#is this crack or not?? we may never know

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Thank you all for voting in the poll to decide who was going to be the leader of the band! It turned out to be such a close race!

[clandestinegardenias]

Because @atkeks is having a bit of a rough day, a snippet of the fic I'm writing inspired by our joke that Sir John asks Francis and James to kiss and make up.

[...]

“Actually, a moment, gentleman,” Sir John calls. James feels as if his stomach has dropped to his ankles. He would very much like to go back to his cabin and sit with his head in his hands for a short while. It has been a trying morning. 

“One must always demonstrate love and understanding to one’s brothers, which all of the men on this ship are bound to be,” Sir John continues, “Before you go, it would please me greatly to see you kiss and make up.”

James had not thought Sir John a man of a particularly humorous inclination. 

He attempts to force a chuckle in response to this sorry attempt at a joke, struggling for several long seconds before the silent anticipation building around them begins to convey that, perhaps, Sir John was not joking after all. 

James nervously glances sidelong at Francis, who, he finds, is not laughing either. 

In fact, he looks downright murderous. Not in the usual way, however, and it surprises James to discover that he knows Francis’ various expressions well enough to make the distinction. This is not the look Francis fixes James with when they fight. That look is red, hot, mobile, alive. This look, right now, is its antithesis. It is pale, cold, and far, far more dangerous. 

It occurs to James that, perhaps, this is what Francis looks like when he is well and truly angry. 

Which suggests, oddly enough, that he has never once in their entire acquaintance been well and truly angry at James. 

As James is having this world-bending revelation, the silence is broken by Sir John’s sudden, booming laughter. 

It was, in fact, a joke after all. 

James experiences the strange sensation of simultaneously dizzying relief mixed with some strange dampening feeling for which he cannot account. He had been in the first, wobbly stages of imagining kissing Francis on the cheek, and finds that he mourns the death of the image.  

He manages a weak chuckle, glad that they are at least back on familiar ground, and shoots a wry smile at Francis beside him only to find that Francis is still not laughing. Not even the slightest hint of a smile graces his face. If anything, he looks angrier than ever. 

If James could bore a hole into Francis’ head with his eyes he would. The man should just accept the provided escape route and relieve the social tension. Just the smallest quirk of Francis' lips in Sir John’s general direction and the two of them could beat a hasty retreat. 

Instead, Francis’ eyes narrow, and James experiences a cold rush of fear because he knows that look, as well. 

Francis is about to do something extraordinarily foolhardy. 

Something that will probably get them both in a fit of trouble. 

[cagcd]

@xmaneater @edxnian the royal table rn

[predvestnik-a]

Trills and chirps, the big single eye’s glow dims and brightens at a consistent rate. Something is interested in whatever it sees.

[galactia]

 “Rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated.”

[joelsgoldrush]

“GUILTY PLEASURE” | 8.6k

logan howlett x fem!reader

“I want this like a cigarette / Can we drag it out and never quit?” Guilty Pleasure by Chappell Roan

SUMMARY: After saving Earth-10005 from impending disaster, Wade convinces Logan, the alcoholic and easily irritated mutant, to stick around for a while. He’s convinced that nothing good can come out of this experience, until he meets you: the charming bartender with a soft spot for swearing that matches his own. Suddenly, sticking around doesn’t seem so bad after all.

WARNINGS/TAGS: smut - mdni 18+ fluff, angst, drinking, dirty talk, slow-burnish, grumpy!logan x sunshine!reader, reader is really kind but cracks a lot of jokes, age gap (25 vs 200 - they’re basically the same age), oral sex (f receiving), fingering, finger sucking, soft dom!logan, wade being the funniest asshole, logan calls reader "kiddo/kid"

AUTHOR'S NOTE: HI! first of all, i'd like to thank you for all the support you showed me on my recent post. let me just tell you that i’m LOVING writing for logan. but none of this would be possible without YOU, so yeah, i fucking love y’all.

** regarding this story, i was planning on making it even longer, but writing these two has been so much fun, and i didn’t want it to end just like that (i have attachment issues as you may infer from this note). therefore, i’ve made the decision to write a second part to this fic, which will contain fluff and other stuff (you already know the drill). i don’t know when i’ll be posting it, but i’m sure it won’t take me that long.

*** i’m also working on other one shots (purely fluff/domesticity because i want this man to cradle me in his arms). anyway, i don’t know if anyone’s going to read this, but still, all I have to say is THANK YOU FOR READING MY WORKS! i hope you really like this silly story i made up :)

**** english is not my first language so if you come across any mistakes don’t hesitate to tell me :)

special recognition to @zloshy who allowed me to rant about my own fic 😭 the sweetest human ever

The bar is far from packed, but then again, it never truly is.

Studying your regulars has become your favorite hobby. Soon you end up knowing their names, the drinks they like, and what time they come through the door. It’s what happens when standing on your own two feet and refilling glasses lose all their charm. A part of you thinks you also do it to make them feel safe. No matter how much you try to deny it, you truly care about their well-being.

Is this your dream job? Nope. Definitely not. You’re pretty sure that holding some stranger’s hair while they empty their insides wasn’t on your bingo card for this year. But sadly money doesn’t grow on trees, and university isn’t going to pay itself. Plus, this was the only job in which your resume was not immediately rejected. It should also be stressed that the drunks happen to love you. 

Perhaps this isn’t the life you had always imagined for yourself, but you were getting closer to it. You’d often talk to Adam, a retired psychologist in his seventies. He was without a doubt one of the most loyal clients you’d ever encountered. In the past, he’d even given you free advice on some of your failed hookups. You once told him that in less than two years, you’d be just like him when you got your degree in Psychology. To your surprise, he replied: “You’ll be much better than me, doll. I’m a mess, can’t you see it? You don’t wanna be like me,” his voice was hardly above a whisper as he continued. “I should be at my daughter’s birthday right now, but I didn’t get an invitation this year. Believe me, you don’t want to end up like this old man.” 

Like Adam, most of the men who frequented the bar day-to-day saw it as an opportunity to hide within the shadows. In comparison to the other pubs in the area, the one you work at doesn’t receive that much attention from the general public. A dimly lit place where only music from the 80s is allowed. You’re certain that if a health inspector ever came down here, you’d be in serious problems. But hey, you know what they say: do not worry about tomorrow; instead, live in the now.

The atmosphere of the bar shifts dramatically as the main door slams shut with a resounding thud, pulling you abruptly out of your daydreaming. You turn to see who’s arrived, but as soon as your eyes meet his, you’re compelled to look away. Nevertheless, the brief glance you catch of the stranger’s features is enough for you to unlock your phone and send a quick text to your best friend. 

You:

cutie patootie alert

there’s this really handsome guy at the bar

i don’t think i’ve ever seen him before

i think i’m in love with him

my night just got a 100% better

Allison:

age

what does he look like

is he bald?

You:

he looks like he could be in his early fifties??? it’s hard to tell UGH i wish you were here

brown hair, beard, 6’2 if i’m not wrong 

i didn’t stare at him for too long

otherwise that would’ve been very weird

and no he’s not fucking bald

that happened only once and i was not aware of that gentleman’s lack of hair 

Allison:

so you’re dating retired now

get it grandma!

You:

oh fuck you allison 

Allison: 

it’s okay girl we all have our flaws

just make sure it’s nobody’s father

wait it’s not mine right?

You:

nah your dad’s way hotter don’t you worry about it

Allison:

bitch 

Even with the music blasting through the speakers that are attached to the ceiling, you can still hear the low murmur and the whispers. The mysterious stranger seems to have attracted the attention of the other patrons, some of whom have even raised their phones to take photos. Your eyebrows draw together. Why would they do something like this, approaching the man as if he were a celebrity? Since curiosity never fails to kill the cat, you decide to get involved.

“Do I have somethin’ on my face?” you hear him ask the crowd, his raspy voice making your knees wobbly. He sounds enraged. You step on your tiptoes, trying to see what all the fuss is about, albeit it’s pretty hard considering how these men are caging him with their bodies.

The glow of a phone’s flashlight catches your attention, and suddenly, a chair is dragged without much elegance. “Enough of that, y’hear me?”

Enter you now. “Okay, gentlemen, I’m sorry. I’m gonna need you to make some space for me, alright?” you mumble as you gently push them aside. “Thank you, thank you. Y’all can be real sweethearts when you put your minds to it.”

Then you spot him, and it becomes clear why everyone is making such a fuss. 

Gary, your worst client ever, steps forward. His nasty breath clouds your senses as he rests one of his sweaty hands on your shoulder. “Doll, it’s the fucking Wolverine. Don’t ask him for a picture, though. He doesn’t seem to be in the mood for that.”

The last thing you needed to see today was a fight (despite your knowledge of who would be the winner). You locate yourself amidst them, shaking your head like a disappointed mother, so as to add a tiny bit of drama to the situation.

“Guys, what you’re doing here is completely inappropriate. I thought I’d taught you better. Imagine if I were to pull this crap on you. You wouldn’t have it.”

Adam presses his lips together, flushing a bit. “She does have a point.” 

“Thank you, peanut. You’re still my favorite,” you flash him an honest smile. Scrutinizing the rest of the men, you continue with your speech. “You can still make up for it and fill my tip jar all the way to the top. Deal?” they all scoff, barking their disagreement. “Oh, you don’t like the sound of that? Then leave him alone, okay? Class dismissed! Back to your places,” you clap your hands repeatedly, signaling them to go away. “Chop chop. All this alcohol won’t be drinking itself.”

Just like that, everything goes back to normal in the blink of an eye. Wolverine sits back down in his chair, leaning closer to the table and resting both elbows on it. He examines you, lifting his chin while his brown eyes take in every inch of you.

“Thank you,” he utters, his eyes still trained on your features. 

“No need to. It’s what I’m here for,” you point to your work clothes, which consist of an antiqued apron and a silly sticker that has your name written on it. “Can I get you anything to drink? It’s also Burger Night. You can get one for half the usual price.”

(No. It’s not fucking Burger Night. You just happen to find yourself deeply attracted to him.)

He doesn’t seem too eager to hear you talk. “Not hungry at the moment. But I could use some whiskey.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, kid. Very sure.” Well, now he does look annoyed.

“Great. I’ll be back in a minute,” you move as if you were in a race, returning to him after a hot minute. Setting his glass down on the table, you fill it with some old whiskey you don’t even know the name of. Still, he omits that detail, gulping down two-fingers of whiskey as if it were water. “I see you’re thirsty.”

“Could you leave the bottle here?” those brown puppy eyes are begging you to do as he says, and although you’d be happy to oblige, rules are rules. 

“Actually, I can’t. The bottle stays on the counter. But you can always join me at the front,” your proposal doesn’t appear to have the desired effect on him. “I won’t talk to you if that’s what you want.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” he rubs his neck, drawing a long breath as he stands up. 

You can feel many pairs of eyes searing into your soul. The others ask you for more drinks and you pour them, pricking up your ears when you hear them talking about him.

“What a weirdo. Didn’t you see it on TV? He’s not even from this universe,” Gary explains, looking for accomplices to hate on Wolverine. “Let me tell y’all something: he shouldn’t even be here. He’s fucking dead on this earth.”

Yeah… that you knew.

It had been all over the news for weeks. Some would even swear that he was back from the dead, but that was until the representatives from the TVA spoke their truth. If someone would’ve told you a month ago that multiple universes were a thing, you would’ve laughed in their face.

As if that weren’t already difficult to process, your mind does the job of reminding you that there’s a man with metal claws sitting a few meters away from you. Despite that, you can’t seem to be scared of him. There’s something magnetic about his personality and that don’t-come-near-me-or-there-will-be-consequences expression that he has. Why had you promised not to speak to him? Dammit.

“I can hear your thoughts,” a muscle in his jaw twitches after knocking back another glass of whiskey. He squeezes his eyes shut before tapping the table with two fingers, silently asking for a refill.

“I thought you didn’t want me to talk,” you raise one of your eyebrows, and you behold how the corners of his mouth turn up for an instant. “I can assure you your liver hates you.”

“Alcohol won’t kill me, so don’t be afraid. Keep ‘em coming.”

For nearly twenty minutes, he does nothing but drink. He attempts to light a cigar at some point, and you stop him. “You can’t smoke in here.”

“No special treatment?” he inquires, placing the cigar between his parted lips and tilting his head back. He’s so… dreamy. He has to know it.

“I saved your ass today. The least you can do is not cause me any trouble.”

His eyes widen at your words, blinking owlishly. “You saved my what?”

“Your goddamn ass. You were about to start a fight.”

“Blame the idiots you have for clients,” he says, jerking his thumb toward your direction. “I was just mindin’ my own business. They came for me, not the other way around.”

“Look, Wolvie. I–”

“Wolvie?” giving a bitter laugh, he rams a hand through his hair. “That’s the worst nickname I’ve heard in a long time,” he looks at you through his lashes, getting rid of his leather jacket. “It’s Logan.”

“Wow. Your name is very boybandish.”

You succeed in making him laugh once again. It’s the perfect opportunity for you to observe his face without feeling like you were just about to get caught. He has deep creases and worry lines etched between his eyebrows, a brown beard that perfectly frames his jaw, and a few white hairs scattered in his sideburns. Pearly teeth that go hand in hand with one of the most impeccable smiles you’ve ever seen, and a pair of brown eyes that make you feel weak in the knees. You know for a fact that he’s a lot older than you; his exact age remains a mystery, but his appearance is enough for you to start fantasizing.

Shit, you want him. You should feel sickened by the mere thought of being with him. He was born God knows when, has lived hundreds of years. Still, the idea of tracing his cheekbones with your fingers while lying on his chest doesn’t leave you. This is fucked up. You are fucked up. A fucked up Psychology student. The joke is pretty much self-explanatory.

“So this is where you’ve been hiding, you preening slut. Can’t even bother to answer my calls now?”

The tension between you shatters like a glass dropped onto the floor. He doesn’t dare to look in the direction of the owner of that voice, not even as the seat next to him gets taken. He pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Wade, what the hell are you doin’ here?”

“It hasn’t been exactly easy, raising our kid on my own. I don’t even have money to hire a babysitter, Lo. I spent nine months carrying your child, and for what? You end up going after a bartender,” the masked man turns to you, giving a sly wink. “No offense, baby. You must be a real sweetheart. In fact, do you want my number? The name’s Wade, but you can call me whatever you like.”

“You dumb fuck. Are you flirtin’ with her?”

“No shit, smartass. You’re the future of this country.”

A soft giggle escapes you despite your attempt to hold it back. You take a step back, admiring the two men. “Well, aren’t you two a beautiful couple?”

“You should see our little munchkin. He’s got my eyes and Logan’s hair. His first word was gubernatorial.”

“Would you like to have a drink while you’re here?”

“A beer would be great. Thank you, sugarbear. You’re the cutest,” Wade sinks back into his chair, resting his chin on his palm. He jerks his head in Logan’s direction, bumping his shoulder. “She’s the cutest. Are you two together?”

Logan rubs his forehead, speaking through gritted teeth. “How did you find me?”

“It's the power of love, baby. I had It’s All Coming Back To Me Now on repeat for hours. Couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

Handing Wade a cold beer, your eyes scan Logan’s face. “I didn’t know patience was your strongest suit.”

“Me neither.”

“Enough of that! I can’t stand not being included in a conversation,” Wade throws his hands in the air, and you look at him. “There you are. So, what about you? Are you even allowed to be here? Did bars change their policies?”

You can’t help but snort. “I’m 25.”

Wade looms closer, lowering his voice. “Now that I think about it, you could totally be Logan’s caretaker. He’s been having some issues recently, given his age. Do you… know anything about adult diapers?”

But then Logan’s face contorts, turning crimson. He rises from his seat, grabbing Wade’s arm. “That’s it. We’re leavin’,” his eyes lock on you for a moment. “How much do I owe you?”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s on the house.”

The things you’re willing to do for a man, right? You should be ashamed of yourself.

(But you aren’t.)

His mouth hangs open in disbelief. “Kiddo, are you–”

“Completely sure,” you finish his sentence for him, bowing your head and clasping your arms behind your body. A tight-lipped smile takes over you. “Just don’t tell my boss.”

Wade shifts his gaze back and forth between Logan and you. “I usually don’t mind third-wheeling, but I sort of feel left out.”

“I’m gonna sew your mouth shut, Wade.”

“Oh, come on! I was just making small talk,” the masked man tries to excuse himself while Logan pushes him towards the door. “It was a pleasure meeting you, sunshine. I’m free on Thursdays. Hit me up if his whiskey dick fails to impress you! Mine’s way more agile and young!”

As you watch them leave the bar, you remain frozen in your place amidst the clamor of ongoing chatter and clinking glasses.

What the fuck had just happened?

“Patrick’s normally the first one to get wasted during weekends,” you explain to the blonde woman sitting in front of you, and she writes that information down in her notebook. “He can usually handle himself, but at some point, he’ll try to call his ex-wife, and that’s when you know you need to stop serving him.”

She clicks her tongue, the color draining out of her face. “This is… definitely a lot to remember. I think I already forgot half of what you said.”

You shake your head, shoving your hands in your pockets. “You’ll get used to it, believe me. I’ll be with you at all times, so if you have any doubts, just ask me.”

After a whole year of working solo at the bar, you finally get to have a coworker: Gwen, a mother of two teenagers in her forties. You had met her at the grocery store, and in the process of helping her find a specific brand of cookies, you found out that she had recently lost her job. One thing led to another, and now she’s your trainee.

Your savior complex strikes again!

It has been four days since your first encounter with Logan. The thought that he could show up at any moment makes your heart race and your hands sweat. Allison had received countless voice messages where you narrated the entire experience in full detail. 

Touching your arm softly, Gwen’s face lights up. “Another man came in. Is he a regular? I don’t think you told me about him.”

Fuck, it’s him. Manifesting does work wonders. He locks eyes with you and raises a hand in greeting.

“Leave this one to me,” you tell her as your feet take you to where Logan’s sitting, contemplating the way in which his leather jacket hugs his wide frame. “Long time no see.”

“Hey, kid,” he grins. “What’s up?”

“Nothing much. Nobody has puked yet, so that’s a good thing,” you crinkle your nose, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “Whiskey?”

“You know me so well,” a smirk takes place in his lips, and he smiles cockily. “Though this time, I won’t be leavin’ without payin’.”

“We’ll see about that,” you go back to your usual spot behind the counter, looking for a glass. Your cheeks kind of hurt from smiling so hard. Next to you, Gwen studies your reaction to seeing Logan. “Is that your boyfriend?”

You almost drop the whiskey bottle. “God, no. He’s not my boyfriend. Barely know the guy.”

“It’s funny,” she says, raising her eyebrows with a knowing look, as if she knows something you don’t. “He hasn’t stopped looking at you since he arrived.”

“It’s probably because of this,” you reply, lifting the bottle in her direction before pouring a small amount into a glass. Just as you’re about to walk over to him, a girl slides into the sit beside him, her long blonde hair swept up in a ponytail. She’s wearing a stunning red dress and black heels. You wonder if she’s a model, because she certainly looks like one.

Her hand creeps up his arm, fingernails scraping against the worn leather. Although Logan’s expression is hard to read, he doesn’t even flinch.

“You know what? Here’s his drink– You take care of it. I’ll stay here,” you don’t give Gwen a chance to talk back, instead staying behind the bar, engaging in small talk with other clients. 

“Doll, are you okay?” Adam asks you after noticing you struggling to open a beer bottle. He takes it from your hands and opens it with ease. “There you go.”

“Thank you, Adam. I’m fine, never been better. Why you ask?

“You sure?”

“Affirmative.”

“You mixed up our drinks,” he explains in his most psychologist-like voice. “This never happens to you. Michael has my wine, and I’ve got his martini.”

“Fuck! I’m so sorry. I just— I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” you chew on your bottom lip, rubbing your temples. “I feel stupid.”

“Oh, please. Don’t say that. You’re far from being stupid,” he sits up straight, reaching for your fingers and giving them an apologetic squeeze. “If you ask me, I think you’ve got your mind on someone else,” he must notice how you visibly get tense because he adds: “Remember: I know when you’re lying. You didn’t charge him the other day, which means that you must really like him,” taking a tentative sip of the martini he didn’t even ordered, Adam shrugs. “I’m a great observer. That’s all.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see the blonde girl from before returning to where her friends are chatting. Logan is left alone, and you watch him grab his glass and head towards the counter.

“As I said, your mind’s somewhere else,” Adam sighs, a tiny smirk tugging at his lips. “Go get your man. I’ll survive.”

“Not my man. But thanks, older-and-wiser-version-of-cupid.”

Pretending not to have seen Logan, you continue with your work. He remains silent for some minutes before finally saying: “Hi.”

Hi? It sounds so out of character for him.

“Hey, claws,” you force a smile, still avoiding to meet his gaze. “Do you need anything?”

Logan points to his empty glass, like a toddler asking for more cereal. “I also wanted to talk to you.”

“I thought you were busy over there,” you say, surprisingly managing to sound nonchalant, despite the jealousy bubbling underneath your friendly tone. “Did you get her number?”

“What? No.”

“Why not? She’s cute.”

Yeah, maybe you don’t sound as collected as you think.

Whether Logan notices it or not, he chooses not to mention it. He folds his arms over his chest, fixing his brown eyes on you. “I’m not interested.”

“And what is it that interests you, champ?” your question elicits a low chuckle from him. Just as he opens his mouth to seemingly reply, Gwen appears out of nowhere to ask you about the price of a certain drink. Your gaze shifts between her and Logan, who remains focused on you while sipping his drink.

After that, Gwen leaves. The man in front of you goes poker-faced, pursing his lips, and his abrupt change in demeanor alarms you. “Wade wants to have dinner tomorrow at his apartment– well, our apartment. I live with him now. It’s complicated,” he adds with a dismissive wave of his hand, and you laugh. “Anyway, he asked me to tell you that you’re invited. I know we don’t know each other that much, but… he said you seem like someone worth havin’ around,” he mumbles awkwardly, eyes downcast. “I think the same as well.”

You could die at peace.

“You’re a lucky fucker because I don’t work on Sundays,” you quip, smiling. “I’d be more than happy to attend your feast.”

“Great. I thought you would turn down the invitation.”

“Now why would you think that?”

“‘Cause you barely know me– us,” he corrects himself rapidly. “Plus, Wade’s annoying as hell when he puts his mind to it. You’ll see.”

“Marital problems?” he actually in response. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes’. Oh, I’ll bring the dessert.”

“You don’t have to.”

“But I do want to,” you tilt your head in an effort to hide your longing for him.

“Just want to get under my skin, huh? I can see why Wade likes you,” Logan beams, reaching out to tuck a $100 bill into the pocket of your apron. “The tip’s included.”

“I don’t know how things work in your universe, but you’re giving me way more money than you’re supposed to. I can't accept this.”

“Oh, but you will,” his gravelly voice fucks your system up, and you’re glad he can’t see how you squeeze your legs together behind the bar.

He writes down Wade’s address on a random napkin, holding his breath as he stands up. “I should get goin’. See you tomorrow then.”

Before he walks out the door, you stop him. “Logan? You didn’t answer my other question.”

His back shakes momentarily with laughter. Turning around to face you, his stare leaves you even more confused. “Good night, doll.”

This is becoming a habit: every time he goes away, you feel as though you’ve just run a marathon with no water available. Your mouth is completely dry, your fingers are numb and there’s a knot in your stomach that’s becoming all too familiar.

“Would you mind telling me where you got him?” Gwen’s voice makes you almost jump out of your skin.

“He’s not from around here. I think he’s Canadian.”

You’ve got this. You’ve got this. You’ve got this.

Knocking softly on Wade’s door, you step back, the container holding the tiramisu cold to your touch. It’s your first time trying out this recipe, so you’re expecting it to at least not taste like shit.

Wade answers the apartment door, acting surprised when you remain silent. “Well, look what the wind blew in: if it isn’t my husband’s lover. How dare you? We’re still going to couples therapy.”

You show him the container, and he squints at it. “Tiramisu. You want it or not?”

“I hate twenty-somethings,” he says with a defeated sigh, stepping aside to let you into the apartment. 

Leaving your purse on the nearest surface, you scan the living room, wondering where Logan might be. There’s a small mirror beneath the couch, and you check yourself for the hundredth time tonight. “Don’t get too excited. He’s still showering,” Wade’s voice rings in your ears, and you turn to look at him, your eyebrows knitted. “Yeah. I noticed. You’re already drooling over that big piece of metal between his legs.”

“Keep quiet!” you cover his mouth with your palm, noticing the scarred state of his skin up close. “Wade, you fucking dog. Are you licking my hand?”

“Couldn’t help it. You taste like mascarpone cheese and espresso.”

Then Logan emerges from the bathroom, with only a white towel draped around his waist. Droplets of water fall from his wet hair, tracing the muscle of his abs, ending somewhere beneath his happy trail. Your eyes keep flickering between him and his torso until he clears his throat. “I thought you were comin’ later.”

“Me too, but I…,” you trail off, your brain struggling to catch up, “I didn’t know what else to do at my place.”

“It’s fine. Just– let me put on some clothes.”

“Please don’t,” Wade murmurs next to you, but Logan only scoffs. “I was just being honest. Communication is key.”

When Wade and you are alone again, he lets out a harsh breath. “That was probably the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. My pants are really tight right now.”

“Thin walls, buddy!” Logan shouts from his bedroom, earning a laugh from you. 

Like A Prayer starts playing. Wade moves his hips to the beat, getting lost in the melody. “Is that your phone?”

“Yeah, but I always take a few seconds to dance to it. Such a banger!” he says, then picks up his phone, accepting the call. “Hey, Ness! What´s up?” Wade covers the speaker before telling you: “It’s Vanessa. My ex-girlfriend. We fuck once a week, sometimes even twice.”

From behind, Logan nudges your arm with his, looking at you. ”Hey, kid.”

“No, I’m not busy at all,” Wade exclaims, grabbing his crotch and thrusting into the air. “I’ll be there in ten, cupcake. See you,” he spreads his arms wide and whistles. “Someone’s getting laid tonight!”

“You made me come all the way here… and now you’re leaving?”

“What? My friend Wolverine wanted to invite you over. I just had to provide the apartment,” in one quick movement, he presses a kiss to your cheek, then does the same to Logan. “Shave yourself, will you?”

“Go fuck yourself, will you?”

“Love you too, honey. Hope you two lovebirds have a good night, because I know I will!”

Wade throws a wink over his shoulder before heading out, the apartment going dead silent. Logan and you stand frozen, staring at each other, although he quickly drops his gaze, unable to maintain eye contact. A giggle threatens to escape you: he wanted to see you. Could he possibly enjoy your company as much as you enjoy his?

Logan watches the spot where Wave had just been. The absence of his chaotic energy makes the room feel strangely empty now. He coughs lightly, the sound awkwardly loud in the quiet room.

“So... I, uh, bought pizza,” he says, his voice a little too casual, as if trying to cover up his nervousness. Averting his eyes, he focuses on the pizza boxes on the table.

You catch the hesitation in his tone, your curiosity piqued by his discomfort. Tilting your head, a teasing smile forms on your lips. “Pizza, huh? You sure know how to impress a girl.”

Logan chuckles, the sound strained, as he scratches the back of his neck. “Yeah, well, I figured it was a safe choice. Didn’t want to ruin it, y’know?”

You move closer to the table, the warmth from the pizza boxes radiating against your hands as you open one of them. The rich smell of melted cheese and pepperoni fills the air, a comforting scent that makes your stomach growl softly. “Thank you. I’m a big fan of pizza.”

He sits in the chair across from you, taking a bite of his slice. You watch him quietly, your own thoughts churning. The truth of his origins had been a shock at first, but now, it just made you want to know more about the man. What was his life like in the other universe? Did he miss it? Was he happier here, or was he longing to return?

“Logan…,” you begin, your tone gentle but probing, “Can I ask you something?”

He glances up at you, eyes widening. There’s something in your eyes –an understanding, maybe– that makes him feel like you could see right through him. 

“Sure,” he replies, trying to sound more at ease than he really feels. “Ask away.”

You hesitate for a moment, not wanting to push too hard. “I was wondering... would it be okay if I asked you some questions? About, you know, your life. Where you're from.”

The bite of pizza suddenly feels heavy in his mouth. He hadn’t talked much about his world, not even with Wade. Partly because it was too painful, and partly because he wasn’t sure how to explain how things turned out for him. He nods slowly, setting his slice down. “Yeah, it's okay. I’ll answer what I can.”

“I just... I want to understand you better.”

“Well, first and foremost, I’m no hero. You should know that by now.”

“I beg to differ.”

“Kid, I’m the worst Logan. A complete failure. Of all the variants out there, Wade just had to pick the one despised by every living soul on his earth,” Logan looks away, his voice low and heavy. You’re wondering if doing this was a good idea. “I need a drink.”

He gets up and you follow him into the kitchen. He rummages through the fridge, in search of a cold beer. Meanwhile, you attempt to find the right words. “I don’t think–”

With a sharp flick of his wrist, three metal claws sprout from between his knuckles. A gasp catches in your throat as he uses his claws to pierce the beer can, drinking from the punctured holes. Once he’s done, he goes back to staring at you. Your gaze, on the other hand, is still glued to the now-empty beer can. “What?” he asks, exhaling slowly.

“That was completely unnecessary,” you mutter, and he lets out a bitter chuckle, tossing the can into the trash. “But, back to what you said before– I don’t think you’re the worst Logan.”

“You didn’t know me back then, darlin’. I fucked it up,” he leans against the counter, arms crossed defensively over his chest. “Like the Logan from this universe, I once belonged to the X-Men too. I remember that Scott used to beg me to wear my suit. So did Jean, Storm, Beast– All of them,” his gaze grows more distant, and you can tell that memories are flooding his mind. “Wanted me to be part of the team, but I wouldn’t do it. Told them they looked fucking ridiculous.”

The pizza’s long forgotten. You take the risk and get a bit closer to him, your eyes never leaving his. 

Logan’s silence stretches for a moment before he speaks again. “One day, while I was off on my own, the humans came. They went mutant hunting.”

Your heart clenches at the pain in his voice. He still remembers everything as if it had happened yesterday. “I can guess the rest. You don’t have to–”

But he cuts you off. “No, let me say it. I need to say it,” he takes a deep breath, lowering his head. “By the time I stumbled home, shit-faced from the bar, it was too late. They were dead. They called after me and I walked away.”

Reaching out, your hand gently brushes against his. He doesn’t pull away, but instead searches for your eyes. “My suit's all I've got to remind me of who they were. What I did. I found them and they were… dead. I started killing, and I couldn’t stop. I didn’t want to stop. I turned the whole world against the X-Men.”

You tighten your grip on his hand, knowing there’s nothing you can do to change how he feels. “You’re not a bad person, Logan,” he shakes his head, mumbling something you can’t quite catch. “I mean it. What happened back then doesn’t define you. You took the blame for their deaths upon yourself. I can tell you loved them deeply, and I’ll never fully understand the pain you feel. I wish I could. I wish I could take it away, make you forget somehow, but I can’t. That’s not how life works. But you got your second chance: you saved this world. My world,” gently cupping his face in your hands, you allow your fingers to caress his cheeks. He leans into your touch, watching you with half-lidded eyes. “You’re my hero. I’m your biggest fan– after Wade, obviously, which is a lot to say.”

He grins, letting out a laugh. “Easy there, bub.”

“Should I give you some space?”

That’s the last thing he wants from you right now. You already know that as he looks you up and down, placing his hands on the small of your back, his thumbs drawing small circles on your skin. There’s no turning back– The warmth between you feels almost like a fever dream. “For a long time, all I wanted was to disappear. I couldn’t stand waking up every morning, knowing that another day awaited me.”

“And what happened?” your breath mingles with his, his closeness becoming nearly intoxicating. “What changed?”

“I met a pretty girl at a pub, that’s what happened,” he murmurs, his dilated pupils flicking up to meet your gaze. “I’m gonna kiss you now.”

“Do all your kisses come with a warning?”

“God, do you ever shut up?”

You don’t have time to respond because he kisses you there and then. His stubble scrapes your skin as your mouths meet again and again, needy hands that hold you as if you were prone to breaking. Logan licks into your mouth, sliding his tongue against yours and swallowing every one of your whimpers.

“So this is what it takes to shut you up, huh?” he murmurs against your lips. You can feel him smiling, and it makes your heart skip a beat. 

“Keep talking and you won’t get a single bite of my tiramisu,” you tease him, kissing him again, the taste of beer numbing your senses. “I really like kissing you.”

“The feeling’s mutual, but now that you’ve mentioned that tiramisu…”

“Am I that easily replaced?”

“No. You’re just a pain in the ass.”

Jokes aside, you’re as happy as a clam.

Since that night you and Logan kissed, you’ve been living your best life. Like a freaking schoolgirl with a crush. Some things never seem to change.

He hasn’t been to the bar in three days. Yes, you’re counting them. No, you haven’t lost your mind. You want to see him, but there’s something about making the first move that gives you the chills. What would his reaction be if you showed outside of apartment?

It’s been a long time since you’ve been with anybody. On top of that, all the guys you’ve dated were your age. Being with someone that older than you certainly wasn’t no your plans. You’d be lying if you said that the mere idea of being with him in that way didn’t excite you.

Oh boy, you miss him. You miss his scruffy voice, his gorgeous hair. And you two aren’t even official yet. To be honest, you don’t even know what he wants from you. Is he even the type to be in a relationship?

“Nighty night, gentlemen,” you say to Gary and his friends as you find yourself in front of them, smoothing your apron. Gwen had called in sick tonight, so it’s just you at the bar babysitting a bunch of grown-men.

“What’s up, doll? You’ve forgotten about us. We miss you coming in here to chat,” Gary’s eating his burger at the same time he speaks, something you find repulsive, but you’ve seen worse. “Y’know, I’d love to take you out someday. I have a place you’d like.”

The other men laugh and punch him in the back, just boosting his ego. Pathetic. 

“I’ll let you know when I’m free,” you reply with the most polite smile you can offer, intending to go on. “What are you having tonight?”

“You always pull that shit, baby. I don’t think you’re so busy that you can’t accept a date.”

You hate the way he’s looking at you, as if you were wrong for not being interested. As if you didn’t know any better.

“You’re reading minds now? Shocking, Gary.”

“Oh, doll. That attitude of yours shows you’ve never been with a real man like me, that’s all,” he leans back in his chair, resting one of his arms on the table and the other one near his crotch, manspreading. “It’s alright. I like you bratty.”

“I’ll be back when you finally have something to order,” you attempt to turn around but he grabs your wrist, pulling you closer. Your eyes lock, and he seems to enjoy this: being in control. Like a predator hunting his prey. “Come on, Gary. I don’t want to have to kick you out.”

“It’s not that you don't like me, right? You’ve already got your mouth full.”

“Careful.”

“What? Don’t tell me you’re not fucking that useless mutant. I see you like ‘em older. Pretty little things like you drive me wild.”

You laugh in his face, showing him your teeth. “It was never about your age, Gary. You’re right: I do like them older. I’m just not into bald, vertically-challenged pricks.”

His entourage of idiots goes silent after that. He looks up at you, eyes burning with hatred. His grip on your wrist tightens, probably leaving a mark. “Fucking bitch.”

“Get your hands off her.”

Logan’s voice forces the two of you to look in his direction. It seems that he’s just arrived at the pub, his jacket still on. 

“You joining us? We’re just getting started here, big boy.”

“Did you not hear me?” Logan lunges forward, his nose almost touching Gary’s. “The fuck is wrong with you?”

“Easy there, cowboy. I’m just having a chat with your girl. She’s one of the good ones, I’ll give you that,” arching a sly brow, his forehead puckers. “You don’t like sharing? We can even take turns.”

Logan clenches his jaw, lips set in a grim line. “Say one more word, and I’ll fucking kill you.”

“I’ll give you a full sentence instead: can you even get it up?” 

The tension in the air is thick, every second stretching out as Logan's anger simmers dangerously close to the surface. Gary’s smug grin only makes it worse, pushing him to the edge. Before you can react, Logan’s fist swings forward, connecting with Gary’s jaw with a sickening crack. Gary staggers back, realising your wrist. Blood seeps from his nose, his white shirt becoming stained with it. “You fucker! You broke my nose!”

“We’re just getting started here, big boy,” Logan mocks him, repeating his previous words.

“Stop!” you shout, moving quickly to grab his arm, trying to pull him back. But he’s beyond hearing, his rage blinding him to everything else. He shakes you off, and with a fierce growl, drives another punch into Gary’s stomach. The latter doubles over, gasping for air, the wind knocked out of him. He then falls to the floor, curling into a ball. People start to gather around you, and soon your beloved bar becomes a box ring.

“That’s enough, Logan! He’s barely conscious,” you murmur under your breath, stepping between them, hands up in a desperate attempt to create some space. Logan pauses, chest heaving, fists still clenched, as he finally looks at you. The wildness in his eyes starts to fade, replaced by a dawning realization of what he’s done.

“He deserved it,” he nods vigorously to himself, as if trying to explain his point. “He was hurting you.”

“If you keep that up, you’re going to kill him. My bar is not a fucking cemetery,” your voice trembles a little bit, expecting to talk some sense into him. “I won’t let you do this.”

The room is quiet now, the only sound being Logan’s heavy breathing as he stands there, still tense, still processing. You turn to Gary’s friends, cold fury in your eyes. “Get him out of here,” you watch as they haul him up, practically dragging him to the door. The other clients continue to stare at Logan, their mouths hanging open. “Everybody out, right now! Go home. We’re closing earlier tonight.”

Adam is the last person to leave, slamming the door behind him. You rush to the counter, searching for a mop to clean the fresh blood off the floor. Still agitated, the images of Logan hitting Gary flash in your mind. He approaches you from behind, his fingers circling your forearm. “Bub–”

“Don’t. Now is not the time.”

“I was protecting you.”

“I told you to stop, and you didn’t. You just shook me off,” you snap, glancing at his knuckles which are not even bruised. Slamming your eyes shut, you get to your feet and wash your hands in the sink, the remaining water becoming reddish for a moment.

Logan moves closer, resting his chin on your shoulder. He wraps his arms lazily around your middle section. ”I’m sorry.”

You turn in his arms, your back flushed against the sink and your nose in the air. “Why didn’t you call me?”

“I don’t have a phone.”

“But– Jesus, Logan. You could’ve come sooner. I thought you regretted what happened the other day,” you say and the muscles in his face twitch, his body stiffening at your words. “Thought you no longer wanted me.”

“No, bub. I– I still want you. I want all of you, trust me,” he murmurs, and you allow him to press his body against yours, the scent of the cigar he must have smoked recently enveloping your senses. “I just… don’t know how to do this. I have a habit of ruining things, and I’m trying to figure out the best way to be with you without hurting you.”

“Pushing me away also hurts,” your eyes flick up to meet his gaze again, and he whispers under his breath. “I can’t read your mind. You need to tell me what’s going on in that ancient skull of yours.”

His face falters, flashing you a mischievous look. His hand creeps under the fabric of your shirt, fingernails scrapping against your spine. “I’m sorry, princess. I truly am.”

“You can’t just say ‘sorry’ with that voice and expect me to–”

You’re cut off by his lips crashing down onto yours. You melt into the kiss, unable to deny what your body has been craving for the past days. 

“I thought your kisses came with a warning,” you say, detaching your mouth from his, a smile spreading uncontrollably in your face as you see his toothy grin.

“Shut up and kiss me, will you?”

In a clash of tongues and teeth, your mouths meet once again. Tugging the hair at his nape, you feel him growl against your lips. His strong hands trace every curve of your body, kneading the flesh of your hips and undoing the knot at the back of your apron. You’re becoming one with the sink, but in a moment like this, you couldn’t care less. Logan’s hard on nudges your lower stomach, and he ruts against you like an animal.

“You said you wanted to know what’s on my mind, right?” his teeth nibble on the skin of your neck, syrupy voice going straight to your core. “Well, I’d love nothing more than to touch you right now.”

“Right here? On the counter?”

“Yeah, on the fucking counter,” he grabs you by your thighs, hosting you up and placing your body on top of the cold bar. He nudges your knees apart, his bulge meeting your clothed cunt deliciously. “Will you let me, baby? Can I make you come in here?”

“Please. I’m glad we have such a low budget. Camera installment is t–too expensive these days.”

“Do you always talk this much?” he slowly unbuttons your pants, and you help him to remove them.

“Yes. Next question,” your breath hitches in your throat as you feel the pad of his thumb circling your clit through your panties. Your eyelids drop, your head lolling back. “Fuck, that feels good.”

Logan hums, mesmerized with the way your hips roll into his hand, your whimpers sounding like music to his ears. “You have any idea how I felt when I saw him touching you? Wanted to rip his hands off you,” his eyes drift to your chest, how it rises and falls with impatience. “But it’s me who gets to have you like this. He can fantasize about you all he wants: I’m the only one who touches you, ain’t I right?” you sigh with content as his fingers graze your slit, aimlessly bucking your hips. He doesn’t go any further, and you tug at the collar of his flannel, needing more of his callousand hands on you. “Nuh-uh. You want something, you gotta use your words. Got it?”

“I w–want your fingers inside me,” you don’t even recognize your own voice at this point. The few guys you had slept with had never been very talkative during sex. But Logan isn’t like them. This is just the beginning and you’re already starting to realize that he has a dirty mouth, that expectant look on his face as he waits to see your reaction to his words. “Please, Logan. I want you so bad.”

“Oh, I know, bub. There’s something about me I don’t think you know,” he inserts one of his fingers in your cunt, your slick coating the palm of his hand. “These claws I have… they didn’t come on their own. Let’s just say my sense of smell is… pretty good,” Logan can almost see the gears turning in your head as you try to think coherently. He moves his middle finger in and out of you, stretching your walls. “And you… have been wet ever since the first time you saw me. Always nice to everybody, making sure they feel at ease,” you feel like you’re being stretched even further, another one of his fingers sinking into your warm pussy. “But you’re so needy, too. How long has it been since someone touched you like this?”

“Too long, f–fuck. Too long,” you’re squirming, a totally whiny mess. He retratcs his wet fingers and instead goes back to flicking your clit, this time with much less delicacy. His left hand squeezes your tits, and you hate the fact that you’re still wearing clothes. “Shit, Logan. I need you to fuck me. Please. Need your cock.”

His face comes to rest at your neck, and you feel lingering kisses and bites that keep you grounded to earth. “Not here. I need a bed to fuck you properly. You’re only getting my fingers now,” he positions them inches away from your entrance, testing your patience. “Tell me who owns this pussy.”

“L-logan–”

“Tell me and I’ll make you come,” his husky voice is making you dizzy, tears shimmering in your eyes. “Come on. Know you want it as much as I do.”

You succumb to the tentation, like divinity turned to sin. He kisses you roughly, and you struggle to find the correct words. “It’s you, Logan. You own my pussy. It’s f-fucking yours.”

With that, he goes back to nudging that spot that makes you see starts, that filthy squelching sound getting mixed up with your moans. The knot in your belly keeps growing tighter the more he pumps his fingers in and out of you. 

“I said you were only getting my fingers for now, but fuck… I need to gest a taste of this sweet cunt.”

He’s on his knees in an instant, urging your legs apart to make room for his body. Your thighs tighten around his face as he licks a hot stripe up your folds, tracing a heated path on your cunt, not wishing to waste a single second. Pleasure builds quickly, your breath hitching as your hands find their way into his hair, pulling him closer when your body begins to tremble. 

“I’m close,” you pant, breathing hard, grinding your hips against his face. “I’m so close.”

“That’s it. Come in my mouth like the good girl you are.”

Who had given him a damn script for this?

The release is explosive. Like the peak of a roller coaster: you go up up up, ascending higher. You think you almost see Jesus, but at some point, you also have to crash down with force. Your shoulders slump, your entire body cramping up; yet he doesn’t let you go that easily, his fingers still working, scissoring within you while you ride out the final waves of your high, drawing out every last moment of ecstasy.

Once you finally manage to open your eyes, there he is, staring down at you. He taps your lower lip with his fingers, and then mutters: “Open.”

And you do, because you’re just as messed up as he is. Your mouth parts, and he slides his fingers between your lips, dragging them smoothly across your tongue. His knuckles brush the back of your throat, and you gag around the intrusion, tasting yourself. He pulls his fingers out of your mouth, clearly satisfied with the way you’ve cleaned them off.

“I think we should really pay a visit to your apartment,” he suggests, groaning in defeat, and you feel his bulge poking your hip. He must be painfully hard. “I meant what I said earlier. I need a bed if we’re going to fuck. My back’s hurting.”

You raise an eyebrow, the corner of your mouth curving into a smirk. “Why not go to yours?”

“Wade’s in there. I wouldn’t be able to concentrate.”

You can’t help but laugh, pausing a moment to collect your thoughts, heat rising to your cheeks. “So we’re going rodeo?”

Aiming to silence up, Logan kisses you, pinching your chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Only if you can handle it.”

part 2: “GIVE ME THE FIRST TASTE”

dividers by: @cafekitsune thank you!!! :)

[ceilidhtransing]

The discussions around whether or not to vote for Kamala keep being dominated by very loud voices shouting that anyone who advocates for her “just doesn't care about Palestine!” and “is willing to overlook genocide!” and “has no moral backbone at all!” And while some of these voices will be bots, trolls, psyops - we know that this happens; we know that trying to persuade progressives to split the vote or not vote at all is a strategy employed by hostile actors - of course many of them won't be. But what this rhetoric does is continually force the “you should vote for her” crowd onto the back foot of having to go to great lengths writing entire essays justifying their choice, while the “don't vote/vote third party” crowd is basically never asked to justify their choice. It frames voting for Kamala as a deeply morally compromised position that requires extensive justification while framing not voting or voting third party as the neutral and morally clean stance.

So here's another way of looking at it. How much are you willing to accept in order to feel like you're not compromising your morals on one issue?

Are you willing to accept the 24% rise in maternal deaths - and 39% increase for Black women - that is expected under a federal abortion ban, according to the Centre for American Progress? Those percentages represent real people who are alive now who would die if the folks behind Project 2025 get their way with reproductive healthcare.

Are you willing to accept the massive acceleration of climate change that would result from the scrapping of all climate legislation? We don't have time to fuck around with the environment. A gutting of climate policy and a prioritisation of fossil fuel profits, which is explicitly promised by Trump, would set the entire world back years - years that we don't have.

Are you willing to accept the classification of transgender visibility as inherently “pornographic” and thus the removal of trans people from public life? Are you willing to accept the total elimination of legal routes for gender-affirming care? The people behind the Trump campaign want to drive queer and trans people back underground, back into the closet, back into “criminality”. This will kill people. And it's maddening that caring about this gets called “prioritising white gays over brown people abroad” as if it's not BIPOC queer and trans Americans who will suffer the most from legislative queer- and transphobia, as they always do.

Are you willing to accept the domestic deployment of the military to crack down on protests and enforce racist immigration policy? I'm sure it's going to be very easy to convince huge numbers of normal people to turn up to protests and get involved in political organising when doing so may well involve facing down an army deployed by a hardcore authoritarian operating under the precedent that nothing he does as president can ever be illegal.

Are you willing to accept a president who openly talks about wanting to be a dictator, plans on massively expanding presidential powers, dehumanises his political enemies and wants the DOJ to “go after them”, and assures his supporters they won't have to vote again? If you can't see the danger of this staring you right in the face, I don't know what to tell you. Allowing a wannabe dictator to take control of the most powerful country on earth would be absolutely disastrous for the entire world.

Are you willing to accept an enormous uptick in fascism and far-right authoritarianism worldwide? The far right in America has huge influence over an entire international network of “anti-globalists”, hardcore anti-immigrant xenophobes, transphobic extremists, and straight-up fascists. Success in America aids and emboldens these people everywhere.

Are you willing to accept an enormous number of preventable deaths if America faces a crisis in the next four years: a public health emergency, a natural disaster, an ecological catastrophe? We all saw how Trump handled Hurricane Maria in Puerto Rico. We all saw how Trump handled Covid-19. He fanned the flames of disaster with a constant flow of medical misinformation and an unspeakably dangerous undermining of public health experts. It's estimated that 40% of US pandemic deaths could have been avoided if the death rates had corresponded to those in other high-income countries. That amounts to nearly half a million people. One study from January 2021 estimated between around 4,200 and 12,200 preventable deaths attributable purely to Trump's statements about masks. We're highly unlikely to face another global pandemic in the next few years but who knows what crises are coming down the pipeline?

Are you willing to accept the attempted deportation of millions - millions - of undocumented people? This is “rounding people up and throwing them into camps where no one ever hears from them again” territory. That's a blueprint for genocide right there and it's a core tenet of both Trump's personal policy and Project 2025. And of course they wouldn't be going after white people. They most likely wouldn't even restrict their tyranny to people who are actually undocumented. Anyone racially othered as an “immigrant” would be at risk from this.

Are you willing to accept not just the continuation of the current situation in Palestine, but the absolute annihilation of Gaza and the obliteration of any hope for imminent peace? There is no way that Trump and the people behind him would not be catastrophically worse for Gaza than Kamala or even Biden. Only recently he was telling donors behind closed doors that he wanted to “set the [Palestinian] movement back 25 or 30 years” and that “any student that protests, I throw them out of the country”. This is not a man who can be pushed in a direction more conducive to peace and justice. This is a man who listens to his wealthy donors, his Christian nationalist Republican allies, and himself.

Are you willing to accept a much heightened risk of nuclear war? Obviously this is hardly a Trump policy promise. But I can't think of a single president since the Cold War who is more likely to deploy nuclear weapons, given how casually he talks about wanting to use them and how erratic and unstable he can be in his dealings with foreign leaders. To quote Foreign Policy only this year, “Trump told a crowd in January that one of the reasons he needed immunity was so that he couldn’t be indicted for using nuclear weapons on a city.” That's reassuring. I'm not even in the US and I remember four years of constant background low-level terror that Trump would take offence at something some foreign leader said or think that he needs to personally intervene in some military situation to “sort it out” and decide to launch the entire world into nuclear war. No one sane on earth wants the most powerful person on the planet to be as trigger-happy and careless with human life as he is, especially if he's running the White House like a dictator with no one ever telling him no. But depending on what Americans do in November, he may well be inflicted again on all of us, and I guess we'll all just have to hope that he doesn't do the worst thing imaginable.

“But I don't want those things! Stop accusing me of supporting things I don't support!” Yes, of course you don't want those things. None of us does. No one's saying that you actively support them. No one's accusing you of wanting Black women to die from ectopic pregnancies or of wanting to throw Hispanic people in immigrant detention centres or of wanting trans people to be outlawed (unlike, I must point out, the extremely emotive and personal accusations that get thrown around about “wanting Palestinian children to die” if you encourage people to vote for Kamala).

But if you're advocating against voting for Kamala, you are clearly willing to accept them as possible consequences of your actions. That is the deal you're making. If a terrible thing happening is the clear and easily foreseeable outcome of your action (or in the case of not voting, inaction), in a way that could have been prevented by taking a different and just as easy action, you are partly responsible for that consequence. (And no, it's not “a fear campaign” to warn people about things he's said, things he wants to do, and plans drawn up by his close allies. This is not “oooh the Democrats are trying to bully you into voting for them by making him out to be really bad so you'll feel scared and vote for Kamala!” He is really bad, in obvious and documented and irrefutable ways.)

And if you believe that “both parties are the same on Gaza” (which, you know, they really aren't, but let's just pretend that they are) then presumably you accept that the horrors being committed there will continue, in the immediate term anyway, regardless of who wins the presidency. Because there really isn't some third option that will appear and do everything we want. It's going to be one of those two. And we can talk all day about wanting a better system or how unfair it is that every presidential election only ever has two viable candidates and how small the Overton window is and all that but hell, we are less than eighty days out from the election; none of that is going to get fixed between now and November. Electoral reform is a long-term (but important!) goal, not something that can be effected in the span of a couple of months by telling people online to vote third party. There is no “instant ceasefire and peace negotiation” button that we're callously overlooking by encouraging people to vote for Kamala. (My god, if there was, we would all be pressing it.)

If we're suggesting people vote for her, it's not that we “are willing to overlook genocide” or “don't care about sacrificing brown people abroad” or whatever. Nothing is being “overlooked” here. It's that we're simply not willing to accept everything else in this post and more on top of continued atrocities in Gaza. We're not willing to take Trump and his godawful far-right authoritarian agenda as an acceptable consequence of feeling like we have the moral high ground on Palestine. I cannot stress enough that if Kamala doesn't win, we - we all, in the whole world - get Trump. Are you willing to accept that?

And one more point to address: I've seen too many people act frighteningly flippant and naïve about terrible things Trump or his campaign want to do, with the idea that people will simply be able to prevent all these bad things by “organising” and “protesting” and “collective action”. “I'm not willing to accept these things; that's why I'll fight them tooth and nail every day of their administration” - OK but if you're not even willing to cast a vote then I have doubts about your ability to form “the Resistance”, which by the way would have to involve cooperation with people of lots of progressive political stripes in order to have the manpower to be effective, and if you're so committed to political purity that you view temporarily lending your support to Kamala at the ballot box as an untenable betrayal of everything you stand for then forgive me for also doubting your ability to productively cooperate with allies on the ground with whom you don't 100% agree. Plus, if the Trump campaign gets its way, American progressives would be kept so busy trying to put out about twenty different fires at once that you'd be able to accomplish very little. Maybe you get them to soften their stance on trans healthcare but oh shit, the climate policies are still in place. But more importantly, how many people do you think will protest for abortion rights if doing so means staring down a gun? Or organise to protect their neighbours from deportation if doing so means being thrown in prison yourself? And OK, maybe you're sure that you will, but history has shown us time and time again that most people won't. Most people aren't willing to face that kind of personal risk. And a tiny number of lefties willing to risk incarceration or death to protect undocumented people or trans people or whatever other groups are targeted is sadly not enough to prevent the horrors from happening. That is small fry compared to the full might of a determined state. Of course if the worst happens and Trump wins then you should do what you can to mitigate the harm; I'm not saying you shouldn't. But really the time to act is now. You have an opportunity right here to mitigate the harm and it's called “not letting him get elected”. Act now to prevent that kind of horrific authoritarian situation from developing in the first place; don't sit this one out under the naïve belief that “we'll be able to stop it if it happens”. You won't.

[xxsabitoxx]

Breed | Kinktober

Satoru x AFAB Reader + Higher Up Suguru

Warnings: Mild dub-con, fucking with the intent of getting pregnant, creampies, pussy eating, voyeurism, drunk sex, use of pet name "princess", Satoru talking you through it, Satoru having a big ass cock ngl hehe, biting

A/N: Day 4... I got really carried away. Lordy lordy... enjoy

WORD COUNT: 6.2K

You swore you didn’t hear him right, your eyebrow cocking upwards as you opened your mouth to say something but Satoru beat you to it. “You want us to do what?” he sounded just as lost as you, face twisted in a grimace as he hoped his best friend would say it was nothing more than a sick joke. “I want the two of you to breed.” Suguru repeated with his easy going smile, eyes shifting between the two very concerned faces before him. 

Ever since becoming a higher up in the Jujutsu world, Suguru had started to change. 

“You… you’re joking, right?” You laughed a bit, eyes shifting to the white-haired man beside you to try and see how he was taking it. Sure enough, Satoru looked completely confused, blue eyes scanning his best friend’s face for some kind of inkling that this was all a prank. “I’m not joking, quite the contrary, I’m dead serious.” Still though, he was smiling, completely unphased. “Yeah, bull shit… I don’t know why you’d think it’s okay to make such a–”

“The higher ups and I have been discussing things. Since the two of you are undoubtedly the strongest of our generation, we want you two to produce children. We want to know if you’ll create sorcerers just as strong, if not stronger than the two of you.” You felt yourself stiffen, immediately off put that he had totally interrupted you to spout the most foul shit you’d ever heard. “We aren’t some fucking experiment.” Satoru stated blandly, arms coming up to splay across the back of the couch you two were sitting on. Suguru still seemed unphased. 

“I don’t see why you two wouldn’t accept the offer.” You gasped, feeling Satoru stiffen beside you as Suguru said such blatantly ignorant shit. “Why wouldn't we accept? We aren’t even a couple! Never mind the fact that you want him to breed me like I’m some bitch in heat?!” you practically screeched, still partially believing this was a sick joke. Suguru’s smile faltered a little now, a crack in his facade that sent a shiver straight down your spine. “You two would be wise to accept the offer. I’m giving you a choice. The rest of the higher ups would not.” 

“You’re not giving us a choice.” You immediately countered, mildly aware that Satoru’s arm was lowering a bit, as if to wrap around you protectively. “Oh but I am, dear y/n.” His hands clasped in front of him, that smile creeping back up his face as his eyes shut. You both shared a glance, eyes returning to Suguru as he exhaled and opened his eyes again. “Either the two of you fuck and let me watch, or the higher ups will sit in and watch you instead. I’m giving you the choice to do this comfortably or do this in front of many watching eyes.”

“I decline both options.” Satoru said with an air of annoyance, not willing to subject you to anything you didn’t want. “That is not an option, Satoru.” Suguru immediately countered, eyes shifting over to you. “Really what is the harm in this? You two can have some fun and then go on with your lives.” Suguru tried again, not grasping how this was a huge deal. “You want me to get her pregnant, Suguru. That is not something you can just move on from.” You remained quiet, still reeling from the fact that Suguru was dead serious. “Not only that but you are looking me dead in the eye and telling me this hypothetical child would be at the whim of the higher ups.”

Suguru knew how strongly Satoru felt about this matter, he had since their high school days. For the man across from you to be so blindly devoted to this inhumane experiment, he must have been brainwashed. “Suguru… did they threaten you or something?” Your voice was a little weaker now, Suguru may think the two of you only have two options, but you knew Satoru well enough to know a third. If it came down to life or death, Satoru would choose death. Not of you or himself, but of the hierarchy in the Jujutsu world. You were both strong enough to do it. 

“Not at all, dear y/n. I just think this would be highly beneficial for not only the two of you but the rest of the jujutsu society. The Gojo clan needs an heir, if you two were to produce a child, it would bind both the Y/L/N clan and Gojo clan together. It would be utterly unstoppable with the two of you at their heads, a perfect child to take the reins when that time comes…” Satoru made a fake gagging sound, lifting his blindfold with one finger to look at Suguru. “Don’t tell me you really believe all that bull shit they’ve been feeding you.” Suguru’s calm aura faded completely at that, smile dropping from his face as his eyes became cold. 

“Either we do it the easy way or the hard way. You fuck each other, or they’ll force it upon you. I, as your friend, implore you two to take the easy route. I mean really, even if she doesn’t get pregnant, at least you’ll have had a good time, no?” That clicked something in your mind, body straightening a bit as you mulled his words over in your mind. “I’m not going to fuck someone who isn’t willing, Suguru.” Satoru sounded completely uninterested now, letting the blindfold snap back into place as you sat up a little more. “Satoru…” you started, turning your body to face him. His head snapped in your direction, the tone of your voice was different. 

Knowing he could still see you with the blindfold on, you turned your body and pressed yourself a little closer. Carefully, you brought your lips to his ear, using one hand to hide your mouth so Suguru couldn’t read your lips. “Why don’t we just play along, Satoru?” You swallowed, face feeling a bit warm as you settled again so he could reply. Much to your surprise, he turned his body so he could lean and whisper against your ear. You half expected him to just blurt his answer out. You held your breath as Satoru’s breath ghosted your ear, large hand easily blocking his face from Suguru’s view. “I don’t want to do anything you aren’t comfortable with.” 

You sigh, letting him move away so you can press your lips to his ear again. “I’m fine with it, we can have fun with each other, can’t we?” you pulled away, shrugging your shoulders to say the decision was his. Satoru huffed out a laugh, one arm still draped over the back of the couch as he used the other to pull at his blindfold again. “Suguru, name a time and a place. We’ll entertain your request.” Your heart skipped, trying to remain composed as Suguru gave the two of you a sly smirk. “I’m glad you’ve made the right choice, we have a few things to discuss before we decide those main factors I’m afraid.” Still, he seemed thrilled at the thought. 

“Then discuss them now, Suguru. If we are doing this, you need to act fast before we change our mind.” you appreciated that Satoru was now speaking for the both of you. It was giving you time to properly sort out your thoughts. “No need for such hostility, Satoru. I just want to figure out when the best time is for dear y/n. After all, she needs to be ovulating when you do this.” You stifled your shudder, you weren’t fond of being discussed like some dog that was about to be bred for his own personal gain. “I’m due to get my period in about two weeks time.” 

You were lying, your cycle had just passed. But you knew if you told him you were currently in your ovulation period, the sooner this could be done and over with. “Well would you look at that, I came to you at the right time.” Suguru smiled, clearly he had done a little research beforehand. Beside you, Satoru was visibly confused, clearly having no understanding of a woman’s cycle. Not that you really expected him to in the first place, but you had to admit it was a bit amusing. “If that is the case, Suguru. Why don’t we get this over with, here and now?” you drawled, falling back into the couch and subsequently, Satoru’s arm. 

“That works for me, does it work for you, Satoru?” You and Suguru were both looking at him now, a sigh leaving his plump lips before speaking. “Yeah, works for me.” Somewhere in the back of his mind he couldn’t quite believe you were willing to do this, especially after being so adamant about not wanting to. Something Suguru had said clearly convinced you, though he couldn’t be quite sure. “That settles it then, I’ll treat the two of you to drinks for accepting my offer.” You snorted, pushing yourself up and off the couch. “I expect a lot more than drinks, Suguru.” you patted your skirt, flattening any wrinkles that had formed while sitting. 

“Dinner and sweets!” Satoru added, standing to his full height and stretching dramatically. “What he said, Suguru. You owe us big time.” You crossed your arms, watching your long time friend look between the two of you before heaving a sigh. “Alright, fine. Dinner, drinks and sweets.” Satoru cheered triumphantly, slinging an arm over your shoulder as you headed out the door. “Only one drink for Satoru though, he’s a lightweight and needs to perform.” you couldn’t help but snicker, Satoru’s face turning a shade of red as he yelled at Suguru for saying such things. 

“It’s the truth and you know it, Satoru.” was all you managed, trying your best to keep up with the pace his lengthy legs set. “Who’s side are you on?!” he pulled you a little closer, nearly crushing you to his side. “I guess I should be on yours, shouldn’t I?” you teased, trying to ignore the new found flurry in your heart when you talked to him. But part of you couldn’t help but wonder, did he feel it too. Of course you would let your emotions start to toy with your mind, knowing full and well what would happen within a few hours time. 

—

“S-shit… oh fuck…” Satoru choked out, blindfold pushed back and sitting on his head like a headband. Your teeth were sinking into the junction between his neck and shoulder, making his hips jerk up against yours. Suguru had cut Satoru off after one drink, the white-hair man getting more than tipsy off of it because of his low tolerance. You, on the other hand, had been three drinks in when Suguru cut you off. Having a better tolerance than Satoru did not equate to you being any less sloppy. Suguru was quickly learning that, eyes wide as he watched the two of you make out on the couch within the hotel room he had rented for the night. 

You hadn’t even made it to the bed, your hands all over each other the moment he swiped the card and the door unlocked. Needless to say, Suguru didn’t think he would be in for such a ride. “E-easy! Fuck… y/n please!” Satoru whimpered, fingers digging into the flesh on your hips as you bit a little harder. You wanted to taste blood, desperate to leave a permanent mark on the man below you. Though, even in your intoxicated state you still had a heart. You eased up, lapping at the indents on his skin to try and soothe the damage. Satoru’s hips were restless, bucking into yours every few seconds. Each time your clothed cunt met his covered erection, a wave of molten heat spread through your already too hot body. 

Behind the two of you, Suguru was getting comfortable in the plush chair that sat in the corner of the room. He had only consumed one drink, a buzz settling under his skin but not impairing him enough to let you two have free reign. “Don’t you dare waste a drop of his cum, if you’re going to grind on each other like horny teenagers, at least strip.” You audibly whined, looking over your shoulder to glare at Suguru. Though it wasn’t threatening at all, you looked like a child trying to intimidate an adult. “You heard me.” was all Suguru responded with, his tone demeaning as your face flushed. Satoru took your distraction as the perfect opportunity

You gasped, body falling forward against his as his fingers dug into your thighs. Hauling you up, Satoru made quick work of tossing you on the queen size bed, the white sheets quickly crumpling as you fell onto it. “You heard him, strip.” Satoru’s voice was mocking, and yet he was quickly undoing the top half of his uniform. You rolled your eyes, clearly disgruntled by your dominance being stripped from you. But you couldn’t complain, your skin was prickling with sweat, your own uniform sticking to you uncomfortably. Your fingers fumbled a bit as you undid your top, shouldering it off after a moment with Satoru’s eyes glued to you. 

“You need help?” he breathed out, looking at the fabric of your bra hugging your breasts perfectly. “No, I’m fine…” always stubborn, you undid the button on your wrist and yanked your arm out, repeating the motion on your other arm with a little struggle. “Done yet?” Satoru’s knee sunk into the mattress, hands coming down to press into the linen as he waited for your “okay” to crawl on top of you. “Yeah, done.” you groaned, tossing the white button up at Suguru who managed to catch it. Maybe your reflexes really were slowing down from the booze. Satoru sighed, crawling fully onto the mattress and connecting his lips with yours. 

Your hands came up to wrap around the back of his neck, legs spreading to accommodate him as you slowly laid back. You had to groan into the kiss, Satoru’s teeth grazing your lower lip for entrance only made you feel more defiant. You were slightly pissed he had moved so fast, you hadn’t even gotten the change to admire his toned torso. Which was something you had been most looking forward to, you knew the man was built but he was always hiding it under his uniform or baggy clothing. One of Satoru’s hands was splayed by your head, supporting him so he didn’t crush you under his weight. The other hand was cupping your cheek, trying to coax your stubborn jaw open for him. Still, you were managing to resist. 

“Such a tease, y/n.” Suguru cooed from his spot, hand shamelessly adjusting his half-hard cock. Of course he’d enjoy this, how could he not? Satoru pulled away, gasping as you stared up at him. “She is, won’t open that pretty mouth for me… so cruel.” he whined, cheeks flushed pink as he dipped his head lower to return the favor you had paid him earlier. This time, it was your turn to gasp, fingers digging into the back of his neck since there was no hair to grab… curse him and his undercut. Satoru’s teeth were sinking into the same point on your body, making a mark that would match the already bruising bite you left behind on him. “F-fuck! Satoru!” 

Your eyes shut, the warm pain blooming on your neck was only making the throb between your legs worsen. “I didn’t think it was possible for someone to be a masochist and a sadist at the same time.” Suguru mused, watching your eyes open slowly, head turning to glare at him. Still, he only smirked, fist pressed into his cheek as his other hand now began palming himself. You looked away, skin vibrating with the realization that Suguru was also getting off on this. “Satoru… ease up!” you whined after a moment, the feeling nearly dizzying as he finally released the skin he had clamped down on. Perfect teeth indents were left behind, the slight swell of blood appearing in some of them. He swallowed, throat dry at the sight. 

“So pretty…” he murmured, head lowering to lap at the mark before trailing his lips up your neck and jaw. “Let me taste you this time, please?” you nodded, dazed as he slotted his lips over yours once more. You were a little easier on him now, mouth opening to accommodate his eager tongue. You shivered as you tasted the slight metallic blood mixing with the fruity cocktail he had consumed earlier. You were envious, he had managed to break your skin but you hadn’t been able to break his. No fair! Your fingers scratched at his skin the more you thought about it, pressing your head into the mattress to create a little distance so you could catch your breath.

“Please…” you gasped out, unsure of what you were asking him for. Yet, he seemed to understand perfectly. Satoru placed one last kiss to your slightly swollen lips before his head dipped lower. Carefully, he kissed down your neck to your chest, burying his face in your sternum, cradled by your breasts. “Can I take this off of you?” He asked even though he knew the answer was yes, still you nodded. Satoru’s hand slipped around your back, the other still supporting himself. You helped by rolling over a bit, allowing him to nimbly undo the clasp of your bra. He tugged it off of you, holding in a shaky breath as he admired your bare skin. Your nipples were pebbling under the cool air of the room, making your cheeks feel warm as Satoru clearly observed them. 

No words were spoken as his head lowered again, tongue running along the valley between your breasts before making the decision to go left. You tried to suppress your noises as his nose dragged along your skin, his tongue leaving a wet trail as he lapped around the pliant skin. He made a point to avoid your nipple, wanting to tease you until you were squirming. You sunk your teeth into the side of your cheek, not willing to give in so easily, still annoyed you were being dominated. “C’mon sweetheart, let me hear that pretty voice.” Satoru pulled away enough to speak, chlorine blue eyes shining even in the dim hotel light. You held his gaze for only a moment before looking away, lips wobbling as he returned to sucking bruises on your breast. 

A quiet, barely audible sigh left your lips, and that seemed to be enough for Satoru. A loud gasp slipped out of you as his lips wrapped around your nipple, tongue flicking across the sensitive bud before he sucked. It was a dizzying feeling, each movement sending a shockwave of pleasure straight down to your cunt. You wanted to feel him, every single inch, that realization tore a moan from your lips as your fingers moved from his neck to thread in his hair. “Satoru… I don’t want to be teased…” You could feel your panties sticking to your cunt as you squirmed, the feeling mildly uncomfortable until you found the right angle. If you moved just right, you could brush against his erection. 

This earned a low groan from Satoru, his teeth grazing your nipple in retaliation. Suguru was still watching, amused as the two of you toyed with one another. “Satoru please!” you cried out again as his teeth actually sunk into the tender flesh, making your eyes water as you tugged on his hair hard enough to pull his head away. The only issue was that he didn't let go, you tugging him away from your chest only caused him to pull at your nipple. A shrill cry left your lips this time, hands immediately letting his hair go as his head lowered to a more tolerable distance. You were panting, your heartbeat racing as Satoru’s free hand moved to cup your other breast. 

He was putting all of his weight on his knees, but that didn’t stop you from feeling the brunt of his weight. “Satoru…” you tried again as he finally let go of your nipple. Still, he didn’t answer you, slim fingers tugging on your other nipple as his eyes focused on yours. You looked completely fucked out already, pupils blown and eyelids heavy as you stared up at him. “Gonna fuck you real good, princess.” Your lips parted at the nickname, not expecting it to have such an effect on you. “Then get to it.” you whined, missing his warmth the moment he straightened. He was towering over you know, giving you a full shot of his muscular torso. 

“Can I take your skirt off?” he asked for your permission yet again, eyes shifting to where his blindfold sat by the pillows. It had slipped off his head when he took his uniform off, but he had the intention of using it for something else later on. “You can, please…” breathless, your hips lifted so he could hook his fingers in the waistband and tug them off of you. Satoru did just as you wanted, pulling your skirt and panties off in one go. You sighed in relief, not at all embarrassed this time when Satoru shamelessly admired your bare cunt. “Pretty.” It was more to himself than you, either way it made you whine. 

“I want to see you, Satoru.” You whined, arms reaching out to try and grab for his waistband. Your hands missed, making you burst into a fit of giggles as you tried to push yourself up. Satoru smirked, undoing his pants with leisure as he looked you over. “You were doing so good at hiding the fact you’re not sober.” He comments, watching you give up and flop back onto the bed with your legs spread around him. He had managed to get his pants off without making a fool of himself. As for his briefs, they were still hugging his hips, straining tightly as his hard-on pressed into the soft material. Behind you, Suguru was chuckling at Satoru’s comment. 

“Yeah, you’re just as bad as she is if you think she was hiding her intoxication.” Still, he was mildly impressed that Satoru had stripped as far as he had without falling over. “Hurry up and pull your cock out.” you groaned, tired of the men’s banter. There was a time and place and it wasn’t now, when your cunt was aching with the desire to be filled up. “Fuck…” Satoru hissed at your words, reaching down to push his briefs, ignoring the way Suguru groaned at your desperation. You swallowed the moment his cock sprang free, slapping up against his abdomen and nearly pulling the air from your lungs. He was big to say the least. Not only that, he was girthy, the kind of girth that would hurt no matter how prepared you were. 

“Damn…” was all you managed to croak, lip trembling a bit as he got his briefs off the rest of the way. Satoru smirked, your reaction stroking his ego in perfect time with his fist stroking his cock. You met his gaze, silently begging him to do something. Satoru took the initiative, grabbing under your knees and pushing you further up into the mattress. “Don’t work, I’ll make sure it doesn’t hurt…” You wanted to ask what he was about to do, but your answer came seconds later as he lowered himself onto his stomach, half of his body hanging off the bed as he settled between your spread thighs. You tried to suppress the strangled noise that left your throat as Satoru’s nose dragged along your inner thighs, shamelessly inhaling the smell of your arousal. 

“S-satoru!” you squealed, hands coming up to cover your face as he groaned. “You smell so fucking good.” You whined, thighs twitching to close around his head but his hands managed to stop you before you could successfully do it. Your head tilted back, too embarrassed to look down at your body and see Satoru start kissing your inner thighs. Suguru watched with dilated pupils, adjusting himself yet again in order to properly monitor the two of you. If he gave into his desires, who knows what the two of you would do. So instead, he sunk his teeth into the side of his cheek and watched you diligently. “Satoru~” you whined as his tongue licked up your folds, not going any further, just covering them in the slick shine of his saliva. 

Your back arched off the mattress the moment his teeth sunk into the underside of your thigh, pain blossoming under the pressure and earning a shrill cry from your lips. It was so sudden that it was nearly dizzying, earning breathless whimpers as he lapped at the now bruising skin. “Sorry…” though you could tell he wasn’t “… you’re just so biteable.” You wanted to scold him but you were too lost in the sensation of his mouth returning to your cunt, letting them fall open for him with ease to give him the access he desired.  The first time Satoru’s tongue passed over your clit, you were certain stars were dotting your vision. He knew better than to poke and prod anywhere else, focusing every ounce of his attention on the pulsing bud below his tongue. 

You felt your thighs tremble, hands twisting in the sheets as you tried to suppress the surplus of whiny moans that slipped out of you. Satoru’s tongue was just as nimble as his fingers, swiping across the sensitive flesh in rapid succession before his lips wrapped around it. You tugged a little harder, the sheets going taut under your fingers as Satoru sucked on your clit just as he had with your nipple. “Fuck… oh fuck… please… just like that… suck it like t-that…” Somewhere in the back of your mind you were mortified for uttering such things, but you couldn’t help but notice the coil in your abdomen tightening with each syllable you spoke. 

It seemed to have a similar effect on Satoru, the man groaning audibly against your bare cunt as his teeth grazed the tender flesh. “S-satoru!” you stuttered out, stomach tightening as his teeth sent a bolt of electricity straight up your spine. The only give away that he heard you was the way his fingers dug into the soft skin of your thighs. You were already close, too overwhelmed by the sensations Satoru bestowed on you. Satoru could tell by the way your sticky arousal was coating his chin each time he grinded his own face into your cunt. He wanted to suffocate on you, dying by your pussy would easily be the best way to go. 

The thought made his hips buck into nothing, mind drowning in the thoughts of shoving his cock into you and doing just as he so boldly refused only a few hours earlier… pumping you full of his cum so you would bear his child. He wanted to utter the filthiest things to you but he knew if he paused for even a moment, that sweet relief you were clearly craving would fizzle away and you’d be back at square one. And at this point, anything that further delayed him delving into your warm cunt felt like pure torture. One of your hands managed to uncurl itself from the hotel sheets, reaching down to instead thread through Satoru’s silky soft white strands. 

You tugged, albeit a little harder than you probably intended, and smothered his face even harder into your cunt. Satoru audibly whimpered at the pain of your tugging, only sending your stomach into a summersault as your orgasm dangled dangerously in front of you. “Satoru please!” you wailed, head tossing back again to make contact with a clearly turned on Suguru. “Go on, Satoru, you heard her, make her cum.” he encouraged with a shaky voice, his tone a lot more wobbly than it had been all night. That made you moan even louder, knowing how visibly turned on he was by this whole thing… and to think you had been so against it at first. 

Satoru grumbled something but it was muffled by your cunt, sending vibrations straight through your core. It didn’t take much more than that, his tongue licking so eagerly at your clit had you spilling all over his face. Your ears ring with the force of your orgasm, Satoru’s touches turning light enough to work you through it without overstimulating you. As much as Satoru wanted to lap up every ounce of your release, he knew he needed you to be sloppy to be able to take him. So, reluctantly, after a few chaste kisses to your now puffy clit, he pulled away. “Do you need a break?” he spoke with a slight pant, face flushed and shiny from his own sweat and your arousal. 

“No… fuck no. Please, Satoru, I want you inside of me.” He couldn’t deny that request, judging by the groan Suguru let out, he wouldn’t deny it either. “Alright.. Fuck alright…” Satoru was getting back on the bed fully, grabbing your ankles and lifting them. You had no time to even squeal in protest before Satoru was folding you into a mating press. “Y-you haven’t even entered me yet…” you wheezed, your knees nearly touching your breasts as the over six foot man settled more of his weight onto you. “Shh don’t worry princess, this will be worth it.” any protest died on your lips, the nickname of his choosing made your body feel warm all over. 

Satoru got himself as comfortable as he could, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to truly settle until he pushed his way inside of you. Ever aware of his size, Satoru ran the slightly swollen head of his cock between your puffy folds, letting your arousal cover him. He held his breath, too enthralled by the way yours caught in your throat each time he bumped your clit. “It’ll hurt a bit at first but it’ll ease up pretty quick, okay?” His alcohol was wearing off but it was no match for his pussy drunk daze. Still, he was going to walk you through each thing he did, blue eyes sparkling with tender reassurance. You nodded, chewing on your lower lip as he positioned his head at your entrance. “Just relax, princess…” 

You nodded, inhaling deeply before slowly letting it out. Satoru timed your breathing with his movements, pressing into you as you exhaled. Your breathing stuttered just a bit as the bulbous head of his cock split you open, stretching you wide and making you flinch. Satoru stopped, whispering soft praises before he kept his hips moving. “It’ll be more uncomfortable if I just stay in place, let me bottom out.” You nodded, your hands holding onto the backs of your thighs as Satoru kept pushing his length into you. When he noticed tears starting to shine in your eyes, he cooed soft reassurance to you, ignoring how his cock was pulsating between your fluttering walls. “I’m almost all the way in, the worst part is almost over.” He smiled a bit, thumb brushing your knee where he held it. You couldn’t recall ever being with a man that had a dick this big. 

“Rub her clit, Satoru. That will help ease any of her discomfort.” Suguru chimed, hand blatantly palming his erection as he greedily observed. “Good thinking.” Satoru hummed, the hand he had been using to guide himself into you now moved to rub gentle circles on your clit. Stars exploded in your vision as the uncomfortable stretch turned into blinding pleasure. Your walls clamped down around him, earning a barely audible whimper between his endless praises. “Yo-you’re taking me so well, I’m sorry it’s so big… oh fuck you’re doing so good f’me princess.” Satoru whined, bottoming out as he tried to regain his bearing before fucking into you. It was nearly impossible to stay still, but the last thing he wanted was to hurt you in this way. He would later argue that the bite marks you bestowed on one another were different from this. 

“Are you okay?” He breathed out, looking at you with lidded eyes and parted lips, making your heart stutter in your chest as you nodded on autopilot. Satoru smiled, settling his body onto you better and really solidifying the mating press he had maneuvered you into. “I’m gonna start moving, princess. Just tell me if I get too rough…” his arms hooked under your knees, forcing your legs wider and further up as he found himself a good position to roll his hips into you. Your hands shakily reached up to rest on his shoulders, shivering as Satoru’s head came to bury in the crook of your neck. Even from Suguru’s perspective, he couldn’t tell where you started and Satoru ended, completely engulfed in one another as Satoru began to find his rhythm. 

Your hands quickly turned from resting to grabbing, breathless whines leaving your lips as Satoru’s cock dragged in and out of your already sensitive cunt. He felt heavy and warm despite being enveloped in your suffocating heat. You could feel the slight upward curve every time he passed over one particular spot, it wasn’t long before a slick squelch emitted from where your bodies connected. “Oh fuck… oh fuck…” Satoru whimpered against your neck, losing himself in the slipper embrace of your cunt. “So good.. Fuck you feel so good… you’re so wet…” he nearly sobbed into your neck, drunk off of your body as his hips relentlessly fucked into you. “Gonna fill you up so good, princess. Fuck so–so fucking good.” he continued to blabber, tears threatening to spill from his eyes as pleasure racked his body over and over. 

You were too far gone to respond to anything, loud moans falling from your lips as you tried to convey how he was making you feel. Each connection had Satoru’s balls slapping against your ass, earning a low whimper into the crook of your neck, right over where he had bitten you. “Make sure you tell me when you’re cumming, Satoru.” Suguru spoke in a slightly raised tone, between the noises you were both making and the noises your bodies made each time he slammed into you, Suguru needed to be sure he was heard. Satoru only lifted his head a bit to mumble a “sure”, vision blurry as he sloppily slotted his lips over yours. The kiss was nothing short of a mess, tongues and breathless pants colliding as drool seeped down the sides of your mouth. Your abdomen was tightening again, an orgasm prickling in your gut as Satoru’s pubic bone managed to rub your cunt with each messy thrust. 

“Gonna cum… ‘toru…” You slurred, this time your impending orgasm felt a little more relaxed,  a warmth spreading through you as Satoru hovered over you. He was studying your face intently, lips a pretty shade of pink and slightly swollen from your kisses. He was close too, but his ability to speak seemed to be robbed by the way your cunt clenched around him. No words could get past his lips, nevermind form in his brain. Satoru’s hips bucked into you a little harder, your whole body shaking with the force of his blows before finally, he was stuttering into you with a loud groan. Your own orgasm hit you shortly after, making your body quiver as Satoru spilled his seed into you. His hips were rocking still, fucking his load deep into your awaiting womb. “So… fuck take it all… take every last drop, Princess…” he had given up on making sense, half of his words stumbling over the other as you tried to remember how to breathe. 

The room finally fell silent, Satoru’s body was still mildly restless as his hips slowly grinded into you. “Well done, you two.” Suguru’s voice earned a groan from the two of you, in your post-orgasm haze, you had forgotten he was there. “You can relax for a few minutes but you’ll have to start round two soon… oh, and Satoru? Don’t you dare pull out of her, keep every drop inside.” Satoru’s body nearly collapsed on you fully at that. “Round two?” He rasped out, limbs feeling like pure jello. “Yes, round two. We have to be thorough. If this doesn't work, we’ll have to keep trying until it's successful.” Suguru was once again displaying a nonchalant behavior regarding the whole thing. “Fine by me.” you slurred out before Satoru could even complain, clarity hitting him like a freight train until you uttered your approval. 

If you were okay with it, then so was Satoru. He didn’t think he’d be able to give up a cunt like yours after tonight, whether it was part of Suguru’s breeding plan or not. “Alright then, whatever you want, you get.” Satoru murmured, lowering again to kiss you tenderly.

[drchucktingle]

On your blog you've talked about dealing with chronic as a result from the stress of masking your autism.

It's a bit of a different situation, but my little sister (who we've begun to suspect has adhd) has been experiencing chronic pain in her arms and legs. I may be totally off base, but I was wondering if a similar stess might potentially be a factor in her pain.

If you're willing, would you mind talking about how your pain affected before you found a way to manage it (I tried searching your tumblr, but not much came up, so sorry if I'm asking a question that's already been answered)?

Thanks either way, I love your books. Love is real!

sure buckaroo GOOD QUESTION. i have had chronic pain in some form or another for LONG TIME in a number of STRESS RELATED WAYS. in past it has been cracking teeth from clenching dang jaws while i sleep and things like that, but a few years ago it was FULL ON BODY PAIN AND TIGHTNESS like every muscle was clenching up. went to the doctor over and over all kinds of dang specialists and it was very difficult to figure out what was going on. eventually landed on a sort of nebulous trot of STRESS but i can get more specific.

there are several things about me that you would never know just from looking or even talking to me for long times. i am a bi buckaroo, i am a non-dysphoric trans buckaroo, i am an autistic buckaroo. EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THESE THINGS IS EITHER HIDDEN AUTOMATICALLY OR I AM SUCH AN EXPERT AT HIDING THAT IT IS SECOND NATURE

autism presents its trot in many ways, so my words do not apply to all, but my version is EXTREME ORGANIZATION AND ENDLESS WORK ETHIC. in way of freud (which is a silly way but sometimes good for symbolism talk) i have what you would call an OVERDEVELOPED SUPER EGO which is a double edged sword. i can write 100s of books at an incredible pace, but also feel like my body is constantly collapsing in on itself

this is not really something i consciously think about much, but eventually these health problems started creeping up. it was all from carrying this mystery tension in my body, because while it feels EASY for me to mask i believe all that tension goes somewhere and it stores up and stores up and stores up.

so i think the HEALTHY way that i have found to deal with this (i think of it as releasing the steam valve a bit so the boiler does not break down) is ART. this space where i am allowed to be CHUCK TINGLE and write without obsessing over the spelling or punctuation, or to loudly express my queerness, or explore gender, and to let my neurotypical mask down DIRECTLY RELIEVES my chronic pain because it literally makes my muscles relax.

when i started out this ARTISTIC TROT as chuck i used a LOT of metaphor to keep my privacy, with different words or different versions of people for different things, and buckaroos found this very funny. as a way to express myself artistically i also liked this metaphor trot a lot, but i have also found that the LESS metaphor i paint over my life as chuck, the better it is for my health. if you have noticed, i talk less about some of the parts of my life that were metaphors, or maybe you have seen that my voice has relaxed a bit in interviews, or that i carry myself a little differently over time, this is partially why. (there is another artistic reason that was a planned trot from the beginning and it has to do with my feelings as a young autistic buckaroo of not fitting in on this timeline, but we can dive into that later).

anyway, as PRACTICAL ADVICE i would say that FINDING A SPACE TO EXPRESS YOURSELF WITHOUT FEAR OR MASKING has been the number one trot for me. that can be a pink bag over your head writing hundreds of erotic shorts, or that can be just laying on the ground howling your heart out, or doing whatever stim you need to do.

i will also say that ONCE I REALIZED IT WAS MUSCLE TENSION getting a physical therapist helped a lot. because there are two sides, you have to start releasing steam from the steam valve, but at the same time youve also gotta start HEALING THE DAMAGE. so i think stretching and techniques like that can be very helpful.

hope that helps buckaroo LOVE IS REAL

[bluebellhairpin]

Cregan Stark X Wife!Reader

Summary: Preparation to leave to Castle Black for the winter months is well under way, and you're reluctant to be left alone in Winterfell. Cregan, having had the same worry, provides what could be a solution. A solution with a name. And fur. (wc. 2.3k>)

Warnings: Reader has she/her pronouns + fem bodied. Pregnancy. Assassination attempt. Unnamed character death. Blood + gore. Cregan wants to be a girl dad. Unedited (lol).

Listening to: 'Wolf at Your Door' by Chole x Halle - "When you're laying in your bed at night, when the air's just a little too quiet, better hope that you're saying your prayers."

Series Masterlist || Masterlist || Ko-Fi || AO3 link

Winterfell was a somber place when the cold rolled down from the north. 

Although only ten men were sent to the wall every winter, everyone left behind knew someone who was sent away. No matter how short of a life you lived, you also always knew someone who died there. Indeed, life on the wall was as harsh as the force it existence kept at bay. 

For you though, the man you lost always returned. The last three winters had you spend upwards of three months without your husband - and in turn rising to take his place as custodian of Winterfell. No matter how busy the role kept you, it never helped you miss Cregan Stark any less. 

With winter approaching once more, each moment with him seemed to not be enough. Yes, the Wall was dangerous, and even Cregan was never guaranteed to return, but this year there was something else that willed you to want him to stay. Something else that made him want to stay too. 

“Each day my resolve seems to crack,” he told you one night, fire cracked in its hearth as you both lay under blankets of fur. His hand rested protectively over your belly. “Already now I can see our babe grow, and I know I’ll not only be missing you but her too.”

“‘Her’?” you hummed, head turning to nose his cheek. “Such a confident tone, my lord.” 

“I am confident.” he replied, turning to press a soft kiss to your lips as his hand idlily rubbed along your stomach. 

“And if you needed an heir at the end of this cold winter, what then?” 

“If my lady wife deems me worthy, we might try for one again.” he said, sedating what could’ve been the start of your mood change with words almost too sweet to be coming from the frosty king in the north. “But that is something we can decide once all three of us are safe together when summer rises.” 

Cregan’s soft words and warm breath on your cheeks made your mind wandered to a time not so far away where you wouldn’t have his heat so close. A time when his comfort was going to be gone. 

“I’m going to miss you.” you said, turning into his hold more, and he let you snuggle into his chest. “This time will feel longer than all the others.”

“I doubt that will be the case for you.” he said, lips moving from their place pressed into your hair. “Winterfell will keep you busy, between that and resting for the babe’s sake, you won’t have time on your hands for much else.” 

“I may not want to rest.”

“You will. The Lord of Winterfell commands it.” 

“The Lord of Winterfell won’t be here, he cannot have a for sure say in what I do or do not do.” You felt him smile into your hair, and you pulled away with a twitch of your own mouth. “What?”

He pulled away a little too, shyly smiling down at where you still laid. He was acting far too coy to be considered normal. 

“I might not be leaving you completely alone.” 

“... Cregan.” you started, sitting up on our elbow. 

“I was going to show you on the morrow, but since you’ve forced my hand -”

“-I? Forcing your hand?”

“- Since you forced my hand,” he said, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he slipped out from the bedcovers, ��I will be right back.”

“What…” You tried, but your voice tempered out as he swiftly made his way from your bedchambers. 

Sighing, you sat back in your pillows, arms folded, and refraining from pouting. It wasn’t long into your settled position of guessing what in the seven kingdoms your husband was doing before he was back. 

Cregan had clearly gone outside, snow settled on the top of his hair and along the shoulders of the fur cloak he snatched before leaving. In his arms was something squirming. You frowned, eyeing the movement under the cloak as he strode over. 

“What is that?” you asked. 

“A protector for the Lady of Winterfell, as per the orders of her lord husband.” Cregan said, and let the squirming mass break free from his hold onto the bed. 

It was a… pup? No not possible, it was too big. From how it acted it was a few months surely, but it was just so big. Then you thought some more. Could it really be? 

“A direwolf?” 

“Not any direwolf. Yours.” Cregan said, rounding the bed and settling back at your side. “A protector to be at your side when I cannot. I’ve been training him and he follows commands well already. By the time I leave he should be grown to the size of any regular dog - then at least twice that when I return.” 

While he spoke, the pup sniffed around your bed covers, curiously wandering on unsteady feet. You had to admit, he looked gorgeous, all black fur, with green eyes, and you didn’t doubt he would grow to be a fierce thing. But sometimes that wasn’t always good. 

“Cregan, are you sure about this?” you asked. “It’s… he’s a direwolf, not a dog.” 

“I’m sure,” he said, lending his arm out. The pup stepped closer, licking Cregan’s fingers and settling on its belly with its nose on Cregan’s knee. “They’re our house symbol. The direwolf are as Stark as I am, they know who we are, and they can be as loyal as they are fierce. That’s why I wanted to introduce you before I left. He’s going to be yours, loyal to you.” 

His arm wrapped around your shoulder, and like second nature you made yourself comfortable by his side. The pup shifted too, now his nose was itching closer to you, wanting to know who this new person was. 

“I supposed you ought to tell me what I'm going to be calling him then.”

“You can call him anything you like,” Cregan said, “But I’ve been calling him Striker.”

Five months passed, and Cregan was right. You were never without anything to do. 

The babe growing inside you made mornings rough, and you often weren’t seen before noon, especially in the earlier months. The rest of your day was spent catching up on what you’d missed while resting, and then catching up on what you missed while catching up. Then the evenings were spent with Striker. 

He had grown on you, just as he had grown physically. Cregan was still able to lift the wolf when he left, but now you doubted it. He was already well on his way to rivalling a regular wolf in size. Despite how intimidating that might’ve been, you couldn’t be more fond of Striker even if you tried. 

Your belly swelled, and with it so did the direwolf’s protectiveness. Your handmaids were tolerated, your guards struggled to be in the same room, and when the maesters dared tough you Striker had to be sent out of the room. Walks around Winterfell were soon out of the question, at least if you were to bring the direwolf along, since he took to growling at everyone who stood too close. 

Cregan really picked well, Striker surely was serving his purpose, and soon he earned his namesake. 

Word came from Castle Black that Cregan was going to return, that the Winter had been fended off once more. That brought joy foremost to you, but really all in Winterfell knew what that meant, even if Westeros didn’t. It was cause for celebration when they returned. 

It also gave a false sense of security. Winter was gone, and so was the evil - but evil didn’t just come from the north. It could come from anywhere. 

You’d settled into bed for the night, Striker laid beside you, head facing towards the door, and your hand rested on his flank as you looked over one last paper. He growled, and you petted his fur, silently reassuring him that it was just a guard passing outside - but then his head lifted, and turned toward your window. His sudden, still alertness put you on edge. 

He’d been hostile before, but this was aggressive. 

Candle flames flickered, Striker’s fur stood on end beneath your palm, the latch on your window clicked open, creaked open, and you could hear your heartbeat in your ears. A cloaked figure slipped into your room, and you couldn’t even bring yourself to cry for help - nor to remember anything Cregan had taught you. But you didn’t have to.

The figure, a man, unsheathed a knife, and with the glint of steel in the candlelight Striker struck. He surged off the bed with a vicious bark and bit into the man’s arm, snarling all the while and all but went to tearing the man to shreds. 

The commotion had people coming in through the door, and the sight had you still rendered motionless and speechless. 

The man’s cloak was torn away, and by now he was pinned to the floor, blood pooling on the stone as he fruitlessly tried to get Striker off him. You barely registered your guard, Gunther, asking you what was happening.

“He came in the window. He had a knife.” was all you could say. You could guess he was saying things to calm you down as he pried your fingers off your bedsheets that covered your swollen belly - he was probably trying to get you out of the room so you didn’t see the mess. It was too late for that. The man was a whimpering, bloodied mess on the floor by now, and no one had yet been brave enough to pry Striker’s jaw off his shoulder. 

Gunther had an arm around you with your hand in his, guiding you away. Others attempted to move closer, either to help the man or take him away - but Striker was still growling. 

“Striker, here.” you called, just finding your voice enough for it to carry over the commotion. The direwolf looked up, and seeing you being led away, he relented, fitting into your side with ease. 

The three of you walked away. Now you were away from the scene you could think again and guess you were going down the hall to another room, one you decided you’d stay in until Cregan returned. 

You looked down at Striker, threading your fingers though the fur at his neck. 

“Good boy.” you said, stroking between his ears. 

“He sure is, my lady.” Gunther said, “Who knows what could’ve happened if he didn’t act so fast.” 

You smiled a little at that, at how right Cregan was in leaving the direwolf for you. He was meant to be company, a protector second - but tonight he proved to be as good, as loyal as any of your guards. He proved to be the real sigil of House Stark - just as Cregan told you he was. 

You reached the door of your new room, and as your hand lifted off Striker’s back you noticed it chill with the cold night air. Turning your palm over, you saw red - and Striker’s nose made home in your fingers, licking away every drop as if it wasn’t ever there to begin with.

A week later, Cregan returned. 

You had been in a foul mood for the past three days, since the maester had put you on strict bed rest because of the babe. Therefore you had been deemed unfit to greet your husband at the gate as he finally came home. In your defense, it definitely seemed like a good reason to be sour. 

So you waited, sat on a chaise, with Striker’s head in your lap pressed to your stomach. 

You could hear a commotion outsider, which only made your face scrunch in annoyance - not just at missing out but also at the pity looked you knew your handmaiden would be giving you. She offered to go fetch Cregan, and you nodded her leave with a wave of your hand. 

“He will be here soon.” you said, cradling Striker’s muzzle in your palms. 

“Indeed he will.” Cregan said. 

“Oh, Lord Stark!” your handmaid said, startled. Your head turned, and you saw him standing in the doorway. 

“Cregan!” you said, grin covering your face - and even after such a long time away, Striker seemed to recognize him, for he didn’t growl, and his tail started thumping against the rug. 

“My love,” he said, shedding his great sword carelessly, and sunk to the floor beside where you sat. You heard your handmaid mumble a goodbye before stepping out and closing the door behind you. “Are you alright?” 

“I couldn’t be better now.” you replied, feeling tears welling in your eyes as you took in your husband's face for the first time in months. He looked tired, older, but as you took his face in your hands his cheeks felt exactly the same as they were when he left. “I missed you so much.” 

“I heard about what happened the other night. I -” he said, mouth hanging open in what could’ve been shock, in his eyes there could’ve been anger. Vengeance would do nothing now, the man was dead, he bled out before anyone could decide to give him mercy - undeserved or otherwise. But as Cregan leant forward to hold you into his arms, his warmth felt like nothing else except fear. “I can’t believe I could’ve lost you.” 

“You didn’t.” you said, taking an arm away from being wrapped around his shoulders to pull his face away from your chest. “You provided the means for me to stay safe long before you left. Striker was better than any guard. He was fearless when I was frozen. I owe him my life, all because of you.” 

Cregan’s face turned soft, and he smiled at you. He leant forward and kissed you. For the first time in too long, his lips move against yours. You felt his jaw move beneath your palm as his fingers grazed your neck and held onto your hip. When he pulled away, he kept your head cradled close to his. 

“I love you.” he said. 

“I love you too.” you replied, and he smiled, pressing another kiss to your lips, then your cheek. 

“Now tell me all about how my little girl is growing.”

[ithebookhoarder]

(BAU Headcanons) If you fell asleep on them

A/N: So... guess who fell into another fandom? I blame everyone on here and their amazing fics for convincing me I need to give this show and wonderful cast a chance. I may have binged 13 seasons in like a month... oops? I'm also looking at my fav BAU bunch here but I'm open to writing for other characters from the show

Aaron Hotchner

Just like some of the other members of his team, Hotch has a hard exterior that very few people manage to crack through. 

If you and he are in a relationship then I can bet you’ve already had to chip away at it, so you’re already pretty intimate with one another. Falling asleep on him is nothing to bat an eyelid at. If anything, he would welcome the opportunity to relax and hold you close to him.  

It also gives him an excuse to steal a few moments of sleep himself, not daring to move and wake you from your rest. 

He loves holding you close, letting himself listen to the steady beating of you heart as it gently lulls him to become calm enough to shut his eyes. 

However, if you weren’t in a relationship or if it happened in front of the others at the BAU then you know he’d immediately react by saying something about ‘work place conduct’. 

However, he’s clearly saying it for the sake of it as he’d make no effort to wake you or remove you from him. 

In fact, he makes sure to stay still and let you rest peacefully, making sure your neck isn’t bent so you don’t wake up in pain. 

He’d also make sure to lay his jacket over the top of you, a clear sign that you are not to be disturbed - under pain of death. 

David Rossi 

Rossi would be the first to complain if you ever fell asleep on him but it’s all good natured. In fact, he only ever complains about it to you after you’ve woken up and only as a joke between the two of you.

“What am I? Just a pillow to you? Are you trying to say my cooking has made me plump?” 

It’s hard to resist his charming smile, especially when he actually is rather comfortable to lean on. His expensive shirts are always soft to the touch, and the cologne you’d brought him last Christmas lingers as you nestle in close. 

He always make you feel safe, and that is an honour greater than any he’d ever been awarded. 

If it happened in front of the others you know he’d roll his eyes and mutter about the cheek of it all. However, his smile would be enough to tell the others he didn’t mean it. 

“I started reading my manuscript and this is what happens… guess that’s one way to leave a review.” 

He’d be sure to shoot daggers with his eyes at anyone else nearby who looked like they would wake you up. 

He’d also shoot down any possible jokes being made at your expense, his parental nature coming out in full force. 

Derek Morgan

This boy would be so smug if you ever fell asleep on him. Like, if you imagine a Labrador’s tail wagging with one of those big dopey grins, then that’s what he is. 

He is keen to try and capture the moment with a picture, setting it as his phone background to prove to himself it really happened. 

If it happens in front of the rest of the team then you know he is going to keep reminding you and everyone else whenever he gets the chance. 

However, you know that for all the bragging and teasing Morgan is actually super touched by the fact you fell asleep on him and he is keen to offer you a place to lay your head whenever you look like you need to take a beat. 

He even has a blanket and pillow in his go-bag especially for you. 

“Only the best for you, hot stuff.” 

He will never complain about it and - considering how much torture and pain we know this man can endure - he is more than capable of handling any cramp or pins and needles he gets as a result of you lying against him. 

Eventually, he would take the opportunity to try and sleep as well. With his job and his manic lifestyle, if he gets the chance to close his eyes he knows better than to waste it. 

Emily Prentiss

She would be shocked at first, especially if it’s early-on in your relationship. She isn’t really used to public displays of affection and you sleeping with your head on her shoulder is pretty public. 

She would stay as still as possible, though, scared of disturbing you or ruining the moment. She’d also probably be panicking internally, unsure what she was supposed to do. 

However, she soon takes a breath and relaxes. After all, you look so cute when you’re asleep and she is honoured you feel comfortable enough to relax around her like this. 

She doesn’t often get the chance to just sit and be peaceful so she savours the moment you’ve given her. 

She’d end up watching you for a while before relaxing and trying to adjust you so that you’re both comfortable. 

She would also take the opportunity to be affectionate, loving that she can run her hands through your hair and kiss your head without any fear of being embarrassed or rejected. 

After all, we know Emily has a soft centre underneath her tough, bad-ass exterior. She just needs to know she is able to express it. 

JJ

JJ is such a mom to everyone including you, so is over the moon the first time you fall asleep on her. She welcomes it with open arms, happy to melt into the embrace. 

It doesn’t matter if you’ve been together long or not, or if you’re in public. Either way, it feels like a personal badge of honour to be trusted in such a way, whether or not you meant to do it. 

She has enough patience not to move a muscle in case she disturbs you and ruins the moment. She knows that if you fell asleep like this then you probably need the rest. 

JJ would totally form a blanket cocoon around you to keep you warm and toasty as you sleep, wrapping her arms around you and cradling you close.

She’d smile the whole time, pressing kisses to the crown of your head and gently murmuring in your ear whenever you seem to stir. 

“Ssssh, Sleepyhead. It’s ok. I got you. Go back to sleep, honey.”   

If it was just the two of you then she’d be sure to try and move you somewhere more comfortable after a while, like the sofa or your bed. 

However, if you were in public then she would turn into a full mama bear and threaten anyone who came close or tried to disturb you. She has that angry mom look down to a fine art and has made grown men wither with it.

Penelope Garcia 

This beautiful baby angel would be so delighted if you fell asleep against her that she’d probably wake you up by accident after squealing a little too loudly. 

“Oh, oh, sorry. Sorry! Go back to sleep. I’m staying as still as a statue, you precious angel, I promise. So you just close your eyes and let me hold you.”

She’d probably manage like five minutes before she moves again and wakes you up, but it was enough time for her to steal a few private photos to commemorate the moment. 

They will most definitely be the background on her computer the following morning, and possibly yours too.

She would also be sure to make sure she has a blanket and pillow stashed away for you if you ever felt like taking an impromptu nap again when you weren’t at home. 

If you worked at the BAU they’d be kept in her lair - or your private napping room, as she tells you. 

They’d also be brightly coloured and super soft, chosen specifically by Penelope to make you as comfortable and as happy as possible, even whilst at the government building. 

“Just so you know, I gave them a spritz with this gorgeous lavender mist spray to help you knock right out the moment your pretty head hits the pillow. So, sweet dreams honeybun.” 

Dr Spencer Reid

Spencer is a precious boy and would be utterly baffled at first if he looked down and realised you had fallen asleep on him. 

He would be surprised he hadn’t noticed you drooping against him sooner, or that your breathing had slowed as you fell asleep. 

At first he thinks it must be a mistake, immediately trying to ease you off of him. After all, he wasn’t the most comfortable person to sleep on and people are far more likely to find his company irksome rather than soothing. 

However, after you start doing it more often he realises that isn’t the case. 

In fact, he feels rather proud that you’ve got the point in your relationship where you aren’t afraid to relax around him. 

He also learns how not to let it over-stimulate him. It takes some time to train his mind to not think about the possible pathogens that could be passing between you or the way your hair tickles his face. He’s also able to talk to you about positions to curl up in if you ever want to sleep against him again, that he feels more relaxed in. 

He’d also totally be happy to tell you all about whatever his latest hyper-fixation is, knowing the sound of his voice helps you settle better than any lullaby. 

Masterlist

[earthtooz]

fluff with a lot of angst, reader is injured and in hospital for one scene but it's not graphic, lovesick!bakugou

during the many years you’ve loved bakugou katsuki, you have only seen him cry three times.

the first time, you were alarmed. where you fell asleep on the couch awaiting your boyfriend’s return, you did not expect to wake up to the sound of sniffles and the sight of drying tears.

“katsuki? what’s the matter?” you asked cautiously, immediately sitting up to wipe his tears away.

your touch, like a healing balm to the blond, lets you treat him like glass when both of you know he is nothing akin to fragile.

“‘s nothin’,” he gruffly huffs, voice cracking a little.

“if you say so,” you murmur skeptically, knowing better than to prod when it’s bakugou involved.

“were ya waitin’ for me?”

you nod. “i thought we could eat together but- what time is it?”

“almost nine.”

“oh. i thought we could eat dinner together but your patrol must have ended a lot later.”

his heart aches pitifully, worsening when he watches you rub the sleep out of your eyes. “‘m sorry, i didn’t mean to come home so late.”

“it’s okay, i get it.”

“we can still eat together, if that’s okay,” he grumbles, looking away bashfully and missing the way your face brightens.

“that sounds lovely, i’ll go heat up dinner-“

“-no, i’ll do it. it’s my fault for coming home later, i’ll call you when it's done.”

bakugou is out of your sight before you can argue any further. as you watch your boyfriend disappear, you’re left pondering on the couch as to why he was acting so uncharacteristically. did he have a bad day? did something happen at work? was he unable to save someone? that’s can't be the reason, he always-

“dinner’s done!” your boyfriend calls from the kitchen, disrupting your thoughts.

when you asked, it didn't sound like he had a terrible day, in fact it sounds like he had a successful patrol, but you cannot fathom any other reason for his melancholy, but if he’s forgotten about it, then you will too.

but... bakugou doesn’t forget. he still remembers when midoriya first alluded to the inheritance of his quirk from all might, he remembers the night vision goggles kirishima broke when trying to save him that one time, he remembers your favourite things and what makes you happy; he remembers everything.

and he’ll never forget that the tears he shed tonight were over the fact that bakugou will never get to show you how much he loves you.

bakugou katsuki, for the first time, realised just how painfully human he is.

he has a heart that beats for you, limbs that longingly ache to be near you whenever he’s not, a mind devoted to you and a cursed mouth so incapable of expressing it all.

if he could, he would wrestle the night sky to give its stars to you instead because you love stars. you love the stupid things in life that bakugou can't give. he can’t give you everything you could ever want and with that realisation, bakugou discovered just how beatable he was.

you may never know the multitude of bakugou’s love for you, and that fact alone brings him to tears as he gazed upon your sleeping figure on the couch, resting peacefully until his arrival.

the second time, you wake up confused.

the lights in the room are dim, there's a machine beeping intermittently and you think it's a heartbeat monitor but you don't really think too hard about it because your body hurts.

you have to blink a few times to get the blurriness out of your eyes, but you eventually comprehend the sterile walls of a hospital room. then the memories come back one by one, a patrol gone awry, evacuating citizens and... ah, being slammed into a wall back-first by the villain. explains the pain.

then you register the looming figure beside your bed, a pair of widened vermillion eyes gazing into your own with untameable blond hair to match, you can't help the smile from spreading on your face when you see your lover.

"hey," you cough weakly, throat dry and scratchy from lack of use.

next thing you know, bakugou's bulky figure is draped over yours, forehead resting on your chest as his arms gently snake around your torso, bringing you into his chest and pressing himself firmly against you.

you feel him; his relief, his sorrow, his devotion, his painful sobs as he shakes against you and it kills you that the only thing you have the strength to do is run a hand through his hair. you want to kiss him, to tell him that it's okay and that there's nothing to cry about, that you're here and nothing will change that, but you're so very sore and barely in tact.

"don't do this shit again," he threatens weakly and you feel his tears seep through your hospital gown. "you had me so fuckin' worried, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, i can't believe you'd do this to me, do you know how much it sucked to be without you?"

"sorry, katsuki," you whisper and he looks up at you, glossy eyes and quivering lip.

"promise me you'll never do this again."

cupping his cheeks with your hands, there's a rush of deja vu as your thumbs catch his tears. "i don't know how realistic that promise is given that this is my job-"

"-your job is to save lives, not go crashin' into buildings, idiot."

you laugh gently, a stabbing pain making itself known in your gut when you do. your wince doesn't go unnoticed by bakugou, who knows you better than the back of his hand and his heart lurches at the slightest evidence that you're in pain. "still, i won't make promises i can't keep, you know how our jobs are, katsuki."

he frowns, furrowing his brows. "then i'll promise to always be there for you. don't go where i can't."

"that's not realistic."

"watch me."

"okay then, deal."

there are questions you still want answers to, but for now, you'll let the blond continue crying with his ear pressed against your chest.

(you won't ever know about the few days bakugou has spent in your hospital ward, absolutely miserable as he looks upon your gaze with anticipation. he hates how helpless he is, that he can't do anything to rid of this horrible feeling in his chest but wait for you to wake up. he hates that he can't any semblance of peace, he hates the man that love has made him, but most importantly, he hates being without you.

you won't ever know the struggle it was to get bakugou out of your room for even just an hour. midoriya and kirishima had to wrestle him in hopes of getting some proper food together, and yaomomo and todoroki had to literally block the door with various items to prevent his entrance.

you won't ever know how alienated bakugou felt, unable to face your shared home without you in it. without your music playing, without your shoes messily thrown at the genkan, without your comforting presence to return to when all is said and done, there isn't much of a home for bakugou.

you won't ever know how desperately bakugou clung to your hand, fiddling with it whenever he needed a safe haven.

you won't ever know the amount of tears the blond had shed by your side, hunched over your bed, with nothing and no one to comfort him but the sound of the heartbeat monitor.)

the third time, you cry too.

it's your wedding day.

when the news first came out, japan practically roared with excitement and anticipation for the special day that their two favourite heroes would wed. the enthusiasm has not dimmed down even months later, and now, as you're one door away from your lover, you feel it buzzing in your bones.

it all goes by in a blur. one second you're about to trip over yourself in nervousness and the next, you're walking down the aisle with a stunned bakugou failing to keep his composure at the altar. despite the amount of close friends and family around you, all you can see is the love of your life who looks at you with unmatched adoration and affection in those ruby irises of his.

up close, however, all you can see are the tears forming in his eyes, and his first sniffle takes everyone in the room by surprise. no doubt, this is their first and last time seeing their beloved hero cry.

more tears are shed and then, it's just waterworks from practically everyone in the room as bakugou breaks down even more.

thank goodness for a private wedding because you know he is never going to live it down if the press got their hands on this image.

a close friend of yours hands you a handkerchief and you wipe away bakugou's tears with a teasing smile, unable to keep your wobbly laughter at bay as your lover- japan's symbol of victory and heroism, turns to nothing but putty in your hands. he lets you treat him so delicately because you've seen him at his lowest, most shaken, and most unlovable, yet still decided to stay.

"sorry," he apologises as you dab at his tears, words reserved for you and you alone. "you're just so... divine. i can't believe i'm marryin' you."

you feel your first tear roll down your cheek and bakugou catches it before it can go too far, wiping it away.

"such an embarrassin' way to start our wedding," he grumbles.

"embarrassing for the both of us, but memorable no doubt," you try to reason.

"everything is memorable as long as i'm with you."

"such a sap," you whack his shoulder lightly. "have you been saving that line for today specifically?"

"you should wait til the vows. bet mine are better than yours."

"i didn't know you could be a poet."

"only for you."

"well then, i can't wait to find out what else you are, katsuki."

"i'll always be yours."

you laugh, "i'm glad to hear that 'cause i love you."

"i love you even more, i'm crying just to prove it."

"your tears are dangerous."

"yeah well, you're marryin' these tears so."

"like i said, i can't wait."

© EARTHTOOZ 2023, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.

[gyubakeries]

𝗼𝗽𝗽𝗼𝘀𝗶𝘁𝗲𝘀 | c.sc

a/n: for some reason the ask got deleted 😭 but an anon asked for something scoups related, so, anon, if you're seeing this, hi! thanks for requesting! i kept brainstorming, and finally came up with this, so i hope you like it! (sorry the ask got deleted im hopeless w technology 😭)

word count: 2.1k contents: seungcheol x afab!reader , gymbro!cheol , i have 0 gym knowledge forgive me , seungcheol and reader are dating , bullying mingyu is a canon event , lots of fluff , cheol being a green flag as always , slight angst , mentions of insecurities (but they have healthy communication about it!) , just overall cute vibes !

"i wanna go to the gym with you."

seungcheol looks up from his phone to direct his gaze at you. it's a thursday night, a rare day off for the both of you, and you had been in the process of selecting a movie for the night when you suddenly spoke.

"what?" seungcheol asks again, not sure if he heard you right the first time.

"i want to go to the gym with you," you repeat, meeting seungcheol's eyes reluctantly, trying to mask your ulterior motive with a smile.

seungcheol was taken aback, but don't get him wrong. he was a regular at the gym, but in your last three years of dating, he had never heard you wanting to accompany him to the gym. instead, you'd always said that you'd rather be at home than be surrounded by sweaty people, including seungcheol himself.

so why the sudden interest?

"babe, everything okay?" seungcheol asks. he knows asking questions may seem rude, but he notices the way the smile you're shooting at him doesn't feel genuine at all.

"yeah! i just wanted to see what was so great about the gym for you to spend hours there," you say, making up an excuse on the fly, hoping you sounded convincing enough.

seungcheol knew you through and through, and he also knew that you weren't telling him the entire truth. but instead of prying, he decides to agree to your request.

"alright,come with me tomorrow," he nods. "it's gonna be pretty intense though. mingyu tells me i'm a really strict gym trainer." he jokes.

"it's okay," you laugh, finally cracking a real smile. "i have a feeling i'll become your favorite student in no time."

"we'll see about that," seungcheol teases, and you drop the topic, shifting your attention back to choosing a movie.

seungcheol needs to get to the bottom of this.

-

the next day, seungcheol comes home from work, and like clockwork, he changes into his workout clothes and grabs his gym bag, ready to head out, but-

something feels different about today though....

"excuse me? were you forgetting your star student at home?" comes your voice, and he finally remembers. he turns to see you waiting in the kitchen, and any suspicions he had about your strange request melt away at the sight of you dolled up in the cutest workout fit. your hair was up in a ponytail, and you were wearing a baby pink sports bra with a matching pair of leggings. you even had a cute duffel bag packed with you.

"aw, baby, you look adorable," he coos. he walks towards the kitchen and stops in front of you to place a kiss to your forehead, his arms wrapping around your waist to pull you into a hug. "also, i'd never forget my favorite student." he says defensively, and you laugh at his cuteness.

"sure, big guy," you chuckle. "let's get going, shall we?"

-

whatever worries had left his brain when he saw you at home had come back to him ten-fold at the gym. he started you off with some basic warm-up exercises and then the treadmill. the both of you jogged next to each other for a while. you had found all of this manageable until now, even though all the physical exertion had made you all sweaty, which in turn made you uncomfortable. you mask your uneasiness though, not wanting to alert seungcheol.

but he had already seen the signs of discomfort on your face. after the treadmill, he decided that he needs to take you home.

"i'm actually feeling really tired today, babe," he fake-yawns while you're sipping on some water. "how about we go home now and come back another day?"

"woah, you're tired just from some cardio?" someone speaks up from behind him, and it's mingyu.

how is he always at the gym?? seungcheol wonders, cursing mingyu's timing.

"i just had a long day at work. what are you doing here?" seungcheol rolls his eyes.

"working out, duh," mingyu retorts. "didn't you clock in late to work today, though? i've seen you less tired while you were working on three days of no sleep."

seungcheol really wants to punch mingyu in the face right now.

"if you're really feeling tired, we can head home," you butt in before seungcheol throws a dumbell at mingyu.

seungcheol would be relieved, if not for the way you look dejected and upset, and seungcheol would rather walk through fire than be the reason for that frown on your face, so he relents.

"it's okay, i'm feeling fine," he smiles. "we can continue, baby."

"just don't be all gross and couple-y," mingyu adds, and quickly scurries away before seungcheol can elbow him in the stomach.

after mingyu leaves, seungcheol gets you started on some basic squats. he shows you the correct posture, even helps you for the first few times till you get the hang of it.

finally, you gain the confidence to do the squats on your own, so you start off with a goal of completing 10. by the time you're on squat number 4, there's a burn in your thighs. you've heard people saying that it's supposedly a good burn, but right now, it's making you feel like your legs are going to snap into two, like twigs.

not wanting to embarrass yourself, you push through the remaining squats, collapsing to the floor after you finish them.

"hey! that was great!" seungcheol smiles cheerily. "i'm so proud of you. let's take a break and then we can move onto something else."

the next challenge: push-ups.

while you weren't a frequent gym-goer, you had an idea of how a push-up should be done. guided by seungcheol's instructions, you find yourself in the position to carry out some push-ups. once again, you set a goal of 10 and you start.

at push-up number 7, your arms give out and you lose your balance, your forehead bumping with the ground.

"shit. y/n, are you okay?" seungcheol is by your side in a blink, helping you up into a sitting posture. you look around the gym, and thankfully there weren't a lot of people around to see your disastrous attempt at push-ups, but you still felt your cheeks burn with embarrassment.

"i'm sorry," you sniffle, tears welling up in your eyes as seungcheol gently rubs your forehead. "i'm sorry for being bad at this."

seungcheol freezes when he sees you cry. he knows you, and you weren't the type to cry from such a small failure. the uneasiness twists his gut; something is really wrong.

"baby, you have nothing to be sorry for," he says, tone firm yet gentle. "let's go home and talk about this, okay? you did a good job today, and you should rest."

leaving no room for negotiation, you let seungcheol gather both your belongings and walk you back home.

once you reach your shared apartment, you're aware of how sweaty and gross you are, your nose crinkling with disgust.

"i need to shower..." you mumble.

"you can head in first. call me if you need anything, okay?" seungcheol suggests. "i'll start on dinner."

you nod timidly and head towards the shower. a long and relaxing shower later, you're emerging from the bedroom in your comfiest pajamas, and a red spot on your forehead from the incident at the gym. you walk into the kitchen to see seungcheol putting down dinner on the table, freshly showered.

"you used the guest bathroom?" you ask, and he nods. you can tell that there's something on his mind, and you know its related to what happened today. knowing seungcheol, he likes to communicate whatever he has on his mind to maintain trust between you, so you eat dinner in silence, anticipating the conversation after.

once the dishes are washed and put away, you quickly go to bed, hoping to avoid any tough conversations by falling asleep early. but seungcheol is too aware of your tendencies, so he follows you to the bedroom, sitting next to you on the bed as you lay down.

"does it hurt a lot?" he asks, breaking the silence.

"my forehead? not that much. but the rest of my body is really sore," you admit truthfully.

"should i get you a painkiller for it?" seungcheol offers, and you shake your head. you've seen him come home from the gym complaining of sore muscles, but he never takes any medication for it, and you don't want to seem weak for doing so.

"you can take one, it won't make you weak," seungcheol says, as if he's read your thoughts. "what's going on, baby? i know something is bothering you, tell me what it is. let me help you."

the gentle tone to his voice makes you tear up immediately. you bring your hands up to your face as you cry. an alarmed seungcheol is quick to hug you, whispering comforting words into your ear.

once you've calmed down, you realize it's time to tell him the truth.

"i wanted to have something in common with you. all our friends and their partners have a shared interest. mingyu and his girlfriend love cooking, wonwoo and his girlfriend like photography; even minghao managed to end up with someone who loves tea as much as him. i just wanted to share something with you. i realized that you and i don't have a lot in common. everyone says 'opposites attract' but to what extent? that's why i thought of going to the gym, so that we could have something to share."

seungcheol is silent for a few moments, and you bite the inside of your cheek nervously while you wait for his response.

"y/n, you're the one person on this earth i have found a perfect match in. you and i have a lot more in common than you think. like the fact that you're the only person who supports my 'dipping french fries in milkshake' agenda," seungcheol cracks a soft smile, holding your hands in his.

"you don't have to force yourself to do things just to share an interest with me, baby. i love you for who you are. you're a wonderful artist, and i'm absolutely pathetic at drawing basic human figures. that doesn't mean we don't work together," seungcheol explains, hoping that his words make sense to you.

"i know, but i just- i just got worried that one day you'd be tired of having to deal with someone so different from you," you sigh, confessing the thought that had been plaguing your mind for a few weeks. "i don't want to lose you, cheol. that's why i did all this. but all i've really done is embarrass myself..."

seungcheol's lips draw into a pout as he crawls onto the bed, laying down next to you. he covers both of you under the blanket and pulls your body closer to him, your head cradled against his chest, and his arm wrapped around your waist.

"i'll never get tired of you. you're the love of my life, and i like the fact that every day we spend together, i get to learn something new about you. there's a familiarity in that too, you know?" he says, and the warmth in his voice makes your heart melt.

"ever since the day i met you, i've wanted to know who you are. i've wanted to know what makes you smile and cry, what food you don't like so i'll never bring it up, what your favorite disney princess is, even how much sugar you like in your coffee. and i'm so grateful to be able to learn every small thing about you, because that's how i show my love for you."

you pull away slightly from his embrace, meeting seungcheol's soft gaze.

"i love you the way you are, and no amount of differences could ever stop me from loving you. even if you were the north pole and i was the south, i'd do everything in my power to be with you, you get that?"

"how'd i get so lucky?" you whisper, eyes welling up again. "i love you too, so much. you- you made me cry, you idiot." you chuckle wetly, slapping his chest playfully.

"you're just a sap," seungcheol teases, but he rubs your back comfortingly nonetheless. "anyways, you're not going to be following me to the gym just for the sake of it anymore. i already think you're perfect the way you are, but if you ever do want to go, you should do it only because you want to, okay?"

"you don't have to worry about it," you dismiss his concerns. "from the second i stepped foot into the gym and got attacked by the stench of sweat, i promised to never come back."

"hey! that's rude!" seungcheol gasps dramatically. you can only laugh at the way a grown, 29 year-old man pouts like a toddler.

yeah, you really were lucky to have him.

-fin.

[joelsgoldrush]

“GIVE ME THE FIRST TASTE” | 10k

logan howlett x fem!reader

part 2 of “GUILTY PLEASURE”

"Your hungry flirt borders intrusion / And I'm building memories on things we have not said / Full is not heavy as empty, not nearly, my love / Give me the first taste / Let it begin, heaven cannot wait forever / Darling, just start start the chase, I'll let you win." The First Taste by Fiona Apple

SUMMARY: From the moment you first laid eyes on Logan, you knew he was a tough nut to crack. But if there’s one thing you love, it’s a challenge. As your relationship grows, you’re determined to show him that, in this universe, he can also be loved.

WARNINGS/TAGS: smut - mdni 18+ fluff, angst, drinking, dirty talk, slow-burnish, age-gap (reader is 25), once again wade saves the day, domestic!logan, soft dom!logan, logan calls reader “kid”, they watch (500) days of summer, oral sex (f and m receiving), fingering, thigh riding, thumb sucking, throat fucking, multiple orgasms, unprotected p in v, creampie (i would say i’m sorry but i’d be lying)

AUTHOR’S NOTE: jeez. hi guys!!! hope you’re doing alright. this is the 2nd part to “guilty pleasure.” writing for these two has been a total rollercoaster, but god was it worth it. as i always tell you, english isn’t my first language, so if you come across any mistake and you feel like letting me know, there’s no problem. thank you so much for all the support you’ve been giving my posts. i’m happy strangers out there take the time to read my silly stories :)

A girl and a mutant walk into an apartment…

Actually, you’re still trying to come up with the rest of the joke. But one thing’s true: Logan’s about to set foot in your place.

You curse under your breath, putting both your hands to work as you struggle to open the door. “Fucking swollen wood. I hate humidity,” you mutter, glancing back at Logan, who frowns as you keep trying different maneuvers to get the door to function properly.

It’s a shitty situation overall. And having that gorgeous man practically glued to your back isn’t helping in any way. You can tell he wants to give you a hand, but you’re not having it—women in STEM or something of the sort.

“May I—” he starts, though you cut him off before he can finish.

“I’ve got this. Just need to—” you say, ramming your shoulder into the door with enough force to make it finally give away. Almost stumbling over the carpet but managing to catch yourself, you sigh in relief. Meanwhile, Logan stands still, scrutinizing you until you gesture for him to enter. “Welcome to the smallest apartment in New York City. It's nothing fancy, but it’s got everything you need for a comfortable stay on a budget. Make yourself at home!”

Logan narrows his eyes, the tiniest smirk playing on his lips before stepping inside. Each of his movements seems to be premeditated as he tosses his jacket onto the couch, surveying the room. A portrait of when you were a kid, probably six or seven years old, catches his attention. He tilts his head, picking up the picture to examine it more closely, and then flashes you a lopsided grin. “How cute.”

“Well, I’ve changed a lot,” you take the picture from his hands, returning it to the shelf where he had gotten it from. 

“Well,” he echoes, mocking your tone, “your beauty certainly hasn’t.”

His eyes bore into you as you meet his gaze. What amazes you most is that he’s being completely honest. In a heartbeat, you look away, wondering what’s gotten into you. Usually, you’re not this awkward—you’ve learned how to take compliments over the years, knowing how to smile just right, to flutter your eyelashes. To blush and giggle in command. Those were the tools that helped you to survive countless first dates—your dearest aces up your sleeve.

There’s no use denying that they remained just that: first, failed dates. You hope you never have to go back to dating apps after this.

“Are you hungry? ‘Cause I’m starving,” you say, trying to walk away from him, although he’s faster, catching your hand in his. 

“Hey,” he urges you to make eye contact with him, his voice perplexingly soft. “Is everything okay?”

You nod so vigorously that you nearly strain your neck. “I’m fine, I swear. I just never get past this point.”

Inching closer, he presses his lips together for a split second, his brows furrowing in confusion. “You lost me there.”

“Guys who come into my apartment don’t tend to call back,” you admit, a flush creeping up your face, cheeks getting hotter. “I happen to believe it’s a curse, though I’ve kissed, like, a hundred toads so far and it still won’t break.”

“So y’think you’re gonna scare me off,” he raises an eyebrow, grinning. His rough fingers become gentle as they tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “It’s sweet. Should be the other way around.”

Wow. You two are a match made in heaven.

As you detach yourself from his embrace and head to the kitchen, you decide to look for something edible in the fridge, finding different trays of food from days ago, none of which look appetizing or suitable for feeding the Tin Woodman standing behind you.

All of a sudden, the unmistakable metallic sound of Logan’s claws unsheathing rings in your ears, forcing you to spin around. The image that unfolds before you is peculiar, to say the least: he’s cornering your cat against the door.

Why is he about to fight a cat?

“Please don’t kill him?” you take a step in his direction and scoop the little ball of white fur into your arms. Logan stares at both of you, eyes squinted and brows knitted. “I’m sure he’s the cutest feline you’ve ever seen. Have mercy on him.”

“I didn’t know you had a cat.”

“Earnest wasn’t aware of your existence either,” you reply, scratching along the animal’s back. He purrs beside your neck, his yellowish eyes never leaving Logan’s. “Earnest, this is Logan. He has claws just like you.”

“Don’t you dare compare me to that,” Logan warns you, retracting his claws with a sigh. You can’t help but wonder if he ever feels tranquil, at peace. “Y’know, you’ve doomed him to bad fortune with that name. Is he at least toilet trained?”

“Are you hating on The Importance of Being Earnest?” you ask, expecting a retort, though apparently the play’s title doesn’t ring a bell for him. “Oscar Wilde?”

“Who do you think you’re talkin’ to, kid?”

Now’s your time to roll your eyes, setting the cat down and letting it run away. He likes to hide in the bathroom—don’t ask why, because not even you know the answer to that. You flick your gaze up back to Logan, placing your hands on your hips. “See, you gave him trust issues.”

“He’ll survive. Don’t they have seven lives?”

This is the perfect conversation to have with someone who just ate you out thirty minutes ago: how many lives do cats have. Jesus.

At some point, Logan flops onto the couch, stretching out. You shudder as you hear him crack his neck, the popping sound getting on your nerves. He pats the empty side of the sofa, spreading his thighs until he’s almost taking up all the space. “Come here.”

Putting aside all your thoughts, you accept the invitation. You sit down, motionless, and his arm grazes the cushion behind your head, pulling you closer to him. You rest your cheek on his chest, letting out a deep sigh, one that you’ve been holding in since you got to the apartment. Is it possible that he knows you craved this? This proximity, this kind of affection. To be held—it’s been your only wish for months. He drums his fingers on your shoulder blades, then starts rubbing your back ever so lightly.

Far from dozing off, you feel alive.

It’s hard not to lose track of time and space when you find yourself immersed in the warmth he offers, and that’s when you realize how deeply you’re falling for this man. “Logan?” the mere thought of asking him what’s been on your mind terrifies you. The last thing you want is to ruin things—or whatever it is that you have. He hums, a low, heavy sound in his throat, indicating you to continue. “I have a question.”

“Ask away.”

You lift your face from his chest and look him in the eye. The city’s still alive outside, with music and chatter sneaking in through the window. Everything seems to be perfect, and you wish you could stay like this—just staring at him as if he were a painting in a museum, and you the critic who can’t stop writing articles about its beauty.

Okay, that was… weirdly specific. 

Logan tries to hide his smile as you peck his lips repeatedly. For a moment, you almost forget what you were going to ask him in the first place. But then he’s ready to listen, and you a wave of nausea washes over you.

“I know that we came here to… engage in adult practices.”

“Fucking, you mean.”

“I didn’t want to be that straightforward, but yeah,” you say, shaking your head as to rearrange your thoughts. “Would you mind if we stayed like this?” to emphasize your point, you kick your shoes off and put your legs on top of his lap. He observes the whole sequence without daring to utter a word. “Don’t get me wrong. I’d love to try that too. I truly do. But… right now, all I want is to cuddle,” he’s still silent, making you even more nervous. “I’m sorry. Is that okay with you?”

His whole body engulfs yours, your cheek coming to rest once again in its original position. You can feel the rhythmic beating of his heart, each breath he takes, the air he exhales dampening your nape. Logan peppers your neck with chaste kisses before pressing his lips to your temple. His voice comes out strained, partially muffled by your hair. “Who do you take me for, huh?” he’s right there, beside your ear, fucking everywhere. There isn’t a single centimeter of your exposed skin that he isn’t touching, marking as his. You don’t give him an answer, in part because you’re unsure of what to say. He takes your silence as a cue to keep talking. “Let me take you to bed.”

“I can walk on my own.”

“I know,” he mutters, standing up with you in his arms, one arm beneath your knees and the other one under your shoulders. Logan’s not used to being this cautious, this patient with someone he’s known for less than two weeks. You see it in his eyes when he lets his guard down—something that has cracked, a shell that’s been broken.

As he places you gently on top of the covers, he lingers for a moment, crouching beside the bed and searching for your lowered gaze. His fingers are warm as he tilts your chin up. “I didn’t come here just to have sex with you. That was a possibility, of course—but it’s not the main reason why I’m here,” he rasps, words accompanied by the light brush of his lips against yours for a quick, brief kiss. “I care about you. A lot. I’m fine with whatever we do as long as I get to be close to you,” he grabs your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. He then goes back to his usual bossy self, his demeanor changing. “And I don’t want to hear you apologizing for not wanting to have sex ever again. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Now you’re making jokes?”

“I can’t have serious conversations,” you confess, observing the look of pure confusion on his face. “It’s true. I once spoke at a funeral and they cut me off forty seconds into my speech.”

Logan laughs at your sudden confession, his eyes crinkling at the edges. Rising to his feet, he begins to unbutton his flannel, pausing after the first few buttons are undone, waiting for your approval. “Do you want me to stay tonight?” 

“If that’s what you want.”

“It is what I want.”

“Are you sure?”

“Don’t make me change my mind.”

His words don’t hide any real threat—that you know.

You stifle your laughter, shedding your clothes. Instead of going to the bathroom to change, you toss your work clothes carelessly to the floor, opting for an old pair of pajamas that are the complete opposite of sexy. They surely have seen better days.

Logan’s eyes trail over you, taking his time to analyze the faded lettering on your wrinkled shirt. “Keep calm and eat pizza?” he reads aloud.

“Hey. I bought it when I was seventeen.”

“You could use a new wardrobe.”

“Well, what about you?” you tease, toying with his belt. “You’re gonna sleep like this in my bed?”

“Can’t wait for me to get my shirt off, huh?” he grins, that all-too-familiar smile on his lips.

You play along, folding your arms over your chest. “You think so highly of yourself.”

Without breaking eye contact, Logan unbuckles his jeans, letting them pool around his ankles. He then shrugs off his flannel, leaving him in just his briefs and vest. You scan his body, and the room suddenly feels a hundred degrees hotter, the air between you thickening. Logan notices your reaction, chuckling. “Don’t get too excited. This is all you’re getting today.”

“I think I’ve already heard that before.”

“Kid.”

You raise your hands in surrender, showing him your palms and mouthing ’sorry’. Approaching your bed, you pull back the covers and slip into it. When you see Logan still standing there, you frown. “Where are your manners? Come here. I’m very impatient.”

He grumbles something under his breath, but he doesn’t make you wait long. He proceeds to get under the sheets beside you, occupying that side of the bed that’s always been empty. As you both settle in, facing each other, you can’t help but giggle, your contagious laugh getting to him. “What now?”

“You’re beautiful,” you whisper, tracing the bridge of his nose with your index finger, a featherlight touch that has him closing his eyes. In the soft glow of the night, with the city’s distant sounds filtering in, he looks breathtaking. “I mean it.”

“Do you have an off switch?”

“I’m… not sure. Let’s find out tomorrow.”

“You need to sleep,” he pulls you onto his chest with firm but gentle hands. He intertwines his legs with yours, holding you close.

“Wait. I have a game to play.”

“It’s late.”

“Please?”

He sighs. “Okay.”

“We have to make confessions until we fall asleep.” 

“You just want to talk—that doesn’t even qualify as a game.”

“It does in this universe,” you reply, feeling his chest rumble with a chuckle as you settle more comfortably against him. “I’ll start: remember the first night you came to the bar?” he hums in acknowledgment. “It wasn’t Burger Night. We don’t serve food. I just wanted an excuse to talk to you.”

He kisses the top of your head, his arms tightening around you. “I knew. You don’t have a kitchen down there, baby,” he falls silent, taking his time to come up with a confession of his own. “I have a fear of flying.”

“Really? You, of all people?”

“I wasn’t expecting to be judged.”

“Oh, don’t be such a crybaby,” you tease, burying your face further into the crook of his shoulder, inhaling his scent. He shivers slightly where your nose touches his skin. “I like you. It’s kind of scary, and I’m sure saying something like this probably goes against the rules of dating 101, but I do. I feel safe with you, like—like this is where I’m supposed to be.”

Almost as if the pieces of the puzzle finally fit together, you think to yourself, though the words stay unspoken.

You’ve come to learn that Logan’s not a man of many words—he’s more of the “show, don’t tell” kind of guy. So when he makes you lift your face, you’re not surprised by the way he kisses you: hungrily. Passionately, like a starved man at an all-you-can-eat buffet. A soft whimper gets lost somewhere in your throat as his tongue makes its way into your mouth, languidly stroking yours.

“We didn’t brush our teeth,” you whisper against his lips, laughing when he groans in exasperation.

“You love having the final say, don’t you?”

“I’m being serious, Logan. Cavities are a real issue for me.”

“You can always get new teeth.”

“But my morning breath—”

“It’ll stink anyway, and so will mine,” he responds, taking a deep breath and clearing his throat once he settles into his ideal sleep position. “Good night.”

“Night,” you murmur, nuzzling your cheek against his neck. Despite your efforts to ignore it, being cradled like this feels incredible. You can’t believe you went twenty-five years without it.

Just as you’re about to drift off, curiosity strikes. “Can you get tattoos?”

“Bub, I was actually falling asleep.”

“Oh, okay. Sorry,” you mumble, feeling a bit sheepish.

More silence.

“Logan?”

“Hmm?”

“What was the Great Depression like?”

“Fuck me,” he mutters, his voice gruff as he shifts lightly. “It was fine. Now go to sleep.”

And you do, but not for long. An abrupt coldness wakes you up, eyes wide open, feeling disoriented. It’s still pitch black outside, far quieter than when you first fell asleep. The clock on your nightstand reads it’s 3:17 am, though it feels like you’ve only been in bed for five minutes.

Then you see him—he’s twitching in his sleep on the far side of the bed, his painful grunts reaching your ears. Most of what he says is unintelligible, but there’s one word he keeps repeating over and over again without fail: “No.”

You don’t usually have nightmares. What’s the best way to wake someone from one? You’re still thinking when he starts mumbling again, his voice thick with distress, and now he’s throwing his arms in the air as if he were fighting off something—or someone—in his dreams.

Pressing your hands to his cheeks, you attempt to hold his face steady. He clenches his fists, his breath quickening the more he battles whatever’s haunting him. “Logan,” you whisper at first, subtly shaking his shoulders, but his eyebrows stay furrowed, deep in his nightmare. This time, you tighten your grip, fully sitting on top of him. “Logan. Logan! Wake up!”

Without warning, you’re on your back, pinned against the mattress. Logan’s straddling your hips, caging you in with his body, the weight of his adamantium skeleton pressing down. Your hands are trapped beneath his, and you watch as he clenches his jaw, teeth bared in a way that looks painful. His eyes are so dark and wild you barely recognize him, prominent veins throbbing in his neck with each labored breath he takes.

“Logan,” your own voice sounds unnatural, forced, as you do your best to bring him back to reality. “It’s me. You’re alright.”

That seems to get through him. Logan stares at you in disbelief, his eyes softening as they take in your terrified expression. He abruptly pulls away, retreating to the nearest wall. He’s gasping for air, slamming his eyes shut, his legs trembling. The only sound you can hear is his rapid breathing. You get up from the bed, taking a step in his direction, but you don’t manage to go any further since he stops you with a shout.

“Stay right there!” he’s growling, pointing his finger at you. “I’m serious. Don’t come any closer.”

“Logan…”

“Please, no!” his voice increases in pitch, not being able to meet your eyes. “Please. Just stay there.”

You comply, not wanting to upset him any further. Sitting back on your knees, you try to appear calm. A man so strong, capable of things you can’t even understand. A weapon turned against himself now stands before you, pushing you away as if his presence were poisonous. He slumps to the floor, the fabric of his vest soaked with sweat.

Once he’s fully conscious, you cautiously crawl toward him, watching his every move. On a random day, this might have been funny for both of you, but right now, there’s no room for laughter. Logan shakes his head, his shoulders tensing when you reach out to hug him, wrapping your arms around his broad frame. It takes him a couple of minutes, but eventually, his body sags against yours. For a while, neither of you speaks. You just thread your fingers through his hair, hoping the closeness will help soothe him. “Feeling better?” you whisper in the shell of his ear, and he pulls back to look you in the eye. You caress his cheek, his stubble rough against your skin. “Welcome back.”

“I’m sorry,” it’s the first thing he says, covering your hand with his. One by one, he kisses your knuckles, still shaking his head. “I don’t know what came over me.”

“You had a nightmare—it’s not like you could control it.”

“But I could’ve hurt you,” he says, lowering his gaze to your wrists, where his fingerprints have left their mark. “God. I’m so sorry. I have to go.”

“Wait!” you grab his arm, your mouth setting in a hard line, stopping him from leaving. “Don’t run away from me, not now. Don’t push me away, Logan.”

“I could’ve done something much worse.”

“But you didn’t. It was a nightmare, baby. You didn’t know,” you kiss his forehead, hoping to talk some sense into him. “Please, stay. Let’s try to get some more sleep.”

“What if—”

You hold his face close to yours, your noses brushing. “You won’t hurt me.” 

This time, he lets you keep him close, the roles now reversed. You can see him fighting his exhaustion, not wanting to fall asleep. But the more you play with his hair, the harder it is for him to stay awake.

“I’m alright,” he says, seemingly reading your mind. It’s hard to tell whether he’s reassuring you or himself.

“I know,” you knead his shoulder, aiming to ease the tension knotted there. “You better sleep, or I might start rambling again.”

A faint, tired hum escapes him, at long last allowing his eyes to close. “I like hearing you talk,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your collarbone, drifting off soon after that.

You continue to hug him, feeling the weight of his body gradually relax against yours as his breathing evens out. The room is quiet, but your mind is far from it: a tornado of emotions swirls within you—concern, relief, love, and something else you can’t quite decipher. It isn’t until sleep finally claims you too that your brain stops going a hundred kilometers an hour.

The most surreal Sunday night of your whole life.

“So… when will you let me see Lolo again?”

Wade’s question makes you stop mid-pour, flicking your eyes between the drink and him. A few seats away, you hand a glass to Adam. Returning to where Wade’s currently sitting, you dry your hands on your apron. “Why are you even here?” you ask, raising an eyebrow, and he gives half a shrug. “Last time I checked, I wasn’t holding him against his will.”

“He’s been crashing at your place almost every night. You have your own methods, woman,” he raises one finger, then quickly adds another, pointing at your shirt. “Two methods, in fact.”

At that, you laugh mirthlessly, shaking your head with a grin. “I’m surprised anyone would willingly date you.”

“I could ask you the same thing,” he retorts, taking a tentative sip of his beer and leaning back in his chair.

You glance at him while you wipe down the bar, looking for something to occupy your hands. “He’s not my boyfriend—yet.”

Wade mimics a punch in his chest, just where his heart’s supposed to be, though you’re starting to question whether he has one. His lips form a small, exaggerated pout. “That must hurt, doll. You got yourself into a situationship with a goddamn fossil. Good luck getting out of that.”

“It’s not that bad,” you say, rolling your eyes. “We’re cool this way. There’s absolutely no need for a title.”

“Okay, let’s rehearse that one more time because you look like you’re about to cry,” he lifts an eyebrow, drawing nearer. “You want the title, right?”

“I don’t.”

He props his chin on his hand, laughing at you. “Yes, you do. You can’t fool me.”

“I said I don’t.”

“I said I don’t,” he mocks you, kicking his legs and puckering his lips.

You can’t help but throw the towel down on the counter with irritation, giving in. “Okay! Of course, I want the fucking title.”

“There she is!” he exclaims, throwing his hands up in a triumphant gesture. “Glad we’re speaking the truth now,” he tilts his head to the side, noticing your sudden silence. “Hey, drop the long face. I’m sure he’s been thinking about it. In order to understand Logan, I usually compare him to elders over ninety.”

“Why would you do that?” you ask, your tone a mix of mild annoyance and curiosity.

“Just think about it! Senior citizens didn’t date for too long in the past. They’d go straight from strangers to lovers. Take my grandparents, for example: in the span of one year, they met at a party, then got married, and had five kids. Do you really want to have a litter of Logan’s grumpy, hairy puppies?”

“Wade, that’s not even possible.”

“The point is,” he continues, finishing his beer and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, “Logan’s rusty in this area, alright? I’d bet a thousand dollars he probably dated Cleopatra.”

“How did you pass History in high school?”

“I never graduated, but keep that between us,” he lifts his shoulders, shrugging. He spins the empty bottle, contemplating his next words. “You should tell him how you feel and what you want. That’s what works best for Vanessa and me. It’s easier that way—you can’t expect him to just guess.”

You wrap your arms around yourself. “I just wish he’d realize it on his own.”

“Well, sometimes you need to give the other person a bit of guidance. I’m just laying out the basics of a relationship here. Did your parents hate each other or something?”

The irony of it all. “They got divorced when I was little.” 

“Oh, god,” Wade sighs, rubbing his temples before glancing at you. “Let me get this straight: Mommy and Daddy weren’t exactly the poster children for love. And you also happen to be a bartender. Anything else, honey? Please tell me you’re at least getting laid, because otherwise, I’m going to feel tremendously sorry for you and your mental health.”

Just then, you hear your name being called. Smiling at Wade, you mumble: “Saved by the bell.” Once you’re back from taking some orders, Wade jumps to his feet, coming around the counter to hug you.

“Dude, what’s the matter with you?” you ask, loosely returning the hug. 

“You’re a fucking survivor,” he whispers in your ear, genuinely sounding concerned. “I don’t know how you do it—you seem so put together. I would’ve lost it by now. A life without sex sounds awful.”

“Jesus, Wade! Get off!” you stretch your arm to punch him in the back, earning a groan from him. “Back to your seat, gentleman. I certainly don’t need your pity.”

“I’m a certified sexologist. Your secret’s safe with me,” he declares with a smirk, gesturing to his empty beer. “But first, I’m gonna need more of this tasty apple juice.”

“I hope you’ve got some cash on you,” you say, getting him another beer. “Why do I get the feeling Logan would kill us if he knew we’re talking about this?”

“Isn’t that what makes it even better?”

Swaying on your feet, you scrunch your nose, momentarily lost in thought. “He won’t let me touch him. I don’t know if it’s me that does something wrong. We do have our… moments, but he takes care of himself. And usually in the bathroom.”

Wade goes white in front of you. “How long has this been going on?”

“Over a month.”

“Oh. That’s bad, like, really bad.”

“Thanks! I’ll be sleeping on the highway tonight. You can always join me.”

“Doll, it’s nothing that can’t be fixed, alright?” he waves his hand dismissively, then sets his palms flat on the counter. “I know I’m starting to sound like a broken record, but talking to him is your best bet. This isn’t something you can just brush under the carpet. You’re like a goddamn radio—put it to good use.”

Just as you’re about to reply, you spot Logan entering the bar. You raise a hand in greeting, waving at him. He meets your gaze and smiles briefly, and so your eyes drift to Wade’s, shooting him a warning look. “If you keep this to yourself, I won’t charge you for today,” you mutter through gritted teeth, to which he answers by pretending to zip his mouth closed.

Logan takes a seat next to him, ignoring his presence. Instead, he focuses entirely on you. “Hey, kid.”

“Hey, homey.”

“Hiya, Wade,” Wade greets himself with a mock cheer, patting his own back, which makes you laugh. He turns to Logan and his whole face lights up. “I’m afraid to tell you I can’t sleep when you’re not around.”

Logan rolls his eyes. “Get your shit together.”

“You’re the worst roommate ever! Can’t believe you got yourself a girl and completely forgot about your bro,” Wade murmurs under his breath, just as his phone rings. “Thank God. I’ve got to go. My love nugget’s calling,” he announces, heading for the door. Before leaving, Wade blows the two of you a kiss. “I hate you both, but I also love you. Peace out, my friends!”

Logan and you exchange glances. “He’s a funny guy, isn’t he?”

“You could say that,” he replies, leaning in to kiss you on the lips. Logan intends to deepen the kiss, but you pull away after a couple of seconds. He frowns, clearly confused. “That’s how you greet me?”

You bite your lip, trying to suppress a giggle. “My tip jar is practically empty, and I hate to say it, but it’s your fault.”

“Do you want me to say I’m sorry?”

“Oh, no.”

“Good, ‘cause I’m not,” he plants a quick kiss on your cheek, making you smile. “You have classes tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah, at 9 am,” you almost grunt, not feeling too enthusiastic about it. “I’m gonna need your help. I can’t sleep through my alarm, okay? The professor said tomorrow’s class is an important one. Midterms are right around the corner, and I can’t take the liberty of failing them.”

“That won’t happen,” he assures you, and you believe him. “I can be of help, don’t worry. You won’t oversleep.”

Oh, Logan. Sweet, lying Logan.

Turns out you ended up oversleeping. Twenty-five years on this earth, and you still haven’t learned not to trust a man, even if his puppy-dog eyes silently beg you to do otherwise. The thing is—you love them. You love men. And you’re especially fond of the one currently sleeping in your bed.

The first rays of sunshine hit your face, waking you up. You attempt to raise a hand to shield your eyes, but moving any limbs feels like a Herculean task. A warm body is pressed against your back, one veiny arm draped over your stomach. Logan remains fast asleep behind you, his steady breathing succeeding in making you feel at ease. You reach back, running your fingers through his messy hair, and he grumbles in his sleep, instinctively pulling you closer.

What a nice, domestic morning. Yep, you’re getting used to this. And nope, you don’t regret it, not even in the slightest bit.

Though there must be a mistake, because you’re preeeeetty sure you had something important to do. 

Oh. You have classes. Had—past tense.

You reach for your nightstand, blindly groping for your phone. The charger is lying on the floor, the plastic of it all damaged. Perhaps Earnest had chewed on it while you were sleeping? You gently pry Logan’s arm off you, sitting up, and your bleary eyes land on something barely peeking out from under the bed.

It’s your fucking phone. The screen is completely shattered, with three distinct holes in the middle of it. Three holes, how strange! You can’t help but wonder who might have left them. Clutching your pillow, you whack Logan in the face with it. “Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty!”

He groans, trying to take the pillow away from you. “What the fuck is wrong with you, kid?”

“I wish I had a UNO reverse card because I should be the one asking you that!” you jab your finger into his chest, showing him the ruined phone. “You broke my fucking phone!”

“What?” he asks, voice laden with sleep, still disoriented. He holds the phone, carefully scrutinizing it. “I think I don’t know how to hit the snooze button.”

“No shit, Sherlock. I believe you’ve made that very clear,” you huff, tossing the phone aside as you flop back onto the mattress. The clock on your nightstand says 11:05 am, and you cover your face with your hands, taking a deep breath. “Next time, when it goes off, just wake me up and I’ll do it.”

Logan settles beside you, resting his head on his forearm as he watches you. “I’m sorry, bub. I’ll get you a new one.”

“It’s fine,” you murmur, sighing. This is your free ticket to be a menace. “I should’ve known dinosaurs and phones would never get along. My bad, pal.”

You don’t even get to see his reaction because he starts tickling you, the room filling with your laughter. Squealing, you try to wriggle away, but his fingers dig into your ribs, expertly finding your most ticklish spots. Your giggles escalate into breathless laughter, your eyes squeezed shut as you desperately attempt to push him away. He’s relentless, chuckling when his own laughter bubbles up. 

“L-logan, stop!” you gasp between fits of laughter, aiming to grasp his hands.

“We dinosaurs love tickling people. Sorry, sweetheart,” he manhandles you until you’re perched on his lap, fisting the fabric of your (his) shirt. Leaning forward, he captures your mouth in a heated kiss. “I’m sorry about the phone,” he slurs the words against your cheek, his lips trailing down to your neck. You tell him that it’s okay, trying to find a comfortable position on top of him, and that’s when his thigh presses against your core, your eyes widening at the unexpected sensation. Logan’s no fool, noticing the way your breath hitches. “What’s wrong, baby? You woke up needy?”

“No, I just—” you trail off as he does it again, his strong thigh coming in contact with your clothed cunt. You search for leverage by placing your hands on his shoulders, glancing at him. “Logan.”

“I’m all ears,” he rests his back against the headboard, the tent in his boxers impossible to ignore. “You want to get off on my thigh,” he states with certainty. It’s not a question—it’s a full-on statement. He knows what you want, what you crave. “Come on then. Grind against it.”

You do as he says, not caring to think twice. You start moving, rubbing your wet pussy against his muscular thigh. The friction sends jolts of pleasure through you, and soon, you’re whimpering his name, your hands trailing down his abs. Why hadn’t you tried this before? It feels fucking amazing.

From his position, Logan stares at you, his lips slightly parted, eyes clouded with lust. Your arousal drenches your panties, soaking through them, the fabric clinging to his coarse leg hair. He glances down at the mess you’re making, his grin widening as he takes in the sight. “Goddamn, woman. I’m gonna make you clean it off, I swear to God.”

“Need your help,” you whisper, lowering your head, the heat in your cheeks intensifying. The coil tightening inside you is almost unbearable. A kiss is what you lean in for, desperate for more, though Logan appears to have other plans. He fists your hair, pulling at your nape and yanking your head back. The roughness of the movement pulls a moan from your lips, your mouth parched like a desert. 

“Eyes up here, okay? You look at me when I make you come,” his raspy voice makes you feel tingly, each word sending shivers down your spine. His hands fiercely grab the flesh of your hips, guiding you, helping you grind harder against his thigh. You think you’re on the verge of drooling when you catch the way his abdomen flexes, working to push you toward that long-awaited release. “That’s it, there you go,” he rasps, relishing the sounds he’s eliciting from you, each of your gasps feeding his desire.

Time slows as the warmth in your belly finally erupts, your eyes fighting to stay open through the aftershocks of your orgasm. No actual words leave your mouth, just a string of whines and moans, some carrying Logan’s name. He swallows every single sound you make, everything you give him, grunting as your legs tremble and shake atop him.

He lets you collapse onto your back, your breathing gradually evening out. “I think I saw fireworks behind my lids,” you confess, your mouth dry, expecting Logan to flop onto the mattress beside you. But he doesn’t. Through your blurry vision, you contemplate as he positions himself between your parted legs, getting dangerously close to your cunt. “Logan, what are you— Oh, fuck,” you moan mid-sentence when you feel him pulling your panties aside to lick a slow strip through your folds, collecting your arousal. He points his tongue, dipping it into your entrance, and you wince, squirming. “Santa Claus, is that you?”

Logan grins against you, closing his mouth around clit for a moment. He then shifts until he’s eye-to-eye with you, two of his fingers sliding into you in one smooth motion. “Give me another one,” he murmurs, his other hand slipping under your shirt to play with your nipples, pinching them. 

You never imagined two fingers could bring such intense pleasure. You just lie there, taking it like a good girl, as Logan sometimes call you. “Please, I need you,” you cry out, your fingernails scraping against his torso.

“I know, darlin’. I’m right here,” he rasps against your temple, moving his fingers in and out of you with more enthusiasm. But what he doesn’t understand is that you need all of him. Your hands itch to touch him, to feel the weight of his cock. The corners of his mouth turn up as he watches you struggle to find words. “Wish you could see yourself like this. Such a pretty girl, so gorgeous like this,” his fingers keep grazing that bundle of joy deep inside you, and he goes in for a kiss, the sour taste of your slick invading your taste buds. “Tightest pussy I’ve ever had. Need to stretch you real good before fucking you with my cock.”

Bingo! That last sentence does it for you, and you come for the second time in the morning, your cunt clenching and spasming around his fingers. You hide your face in his neck, mouthing at his Adam’s apple. He hasn’t trimmed his beard in days, and it shows because you can now feel a burning sensation on the soft skin of your inner thighs.

“You’re allowed to break all my phones from now on,” you suggest, only to hear Logan’s laughter in your ear. He snakes a hand through your hair, shoving it back away from your face. You feel him kiss your sweaty forehead, and as you press yourself closer to his body, something hard nudges your hipbone.

Absentmindedly, you trace the waistband of his boxers with your index finger, your eyes snapping to his face. Logan freezes on the spot, and it’s almost as if he’s stopped breathing. Without a word, he rises from the bed, his movements sudden and almost mechanical. You watch him, puzzled, as he heads toward the bathroom, the intimacy of just moments ago being abruptly replaced by a dreadful silence.

“Logan, is everything okay? Do you need something?” you ask and he pauses at the bathroom door, his back to you. For a brief second, you think he might actually open up, but when he turns around, his expression is neutral, masking whatever thoughts are running through his mind. At last, he flashes you a quick smile.

“I’m fine,” he says, his tone gentle but distant. “Just gonna take a shower. Then we can have breakfast together, right?”

You nod, his words easing the growing sense of frustration gnawing at you. He disappears into the bathroom, and the sound of running water soon follows. You sink back into the bed, staring up at the ceiling. You take your pillow and bury your face in it, letting out a muffled groan. There’s something he isn't telling you, something hidden deep beneath his usual gruff exterior. Although you try to piece together the fragments of his behavior, they don’t quite fit.

The minutes drag on, and the sound of the shower becomes a distant, constant background noise. You close your eyes, visualizing your happy place, but your thoughts keep spiraling. All you can do is wait—wait for him to come back and act as if nothing had happened.

Logan’s right there, just a few feet away—yet in moments like these, he feels miles apart. It’s one of those days in which, no matter how hard you try, you can’t seem to bridge that distance. 

It had all started with you asking Logan “Have you ever watched (500) Days of Summer?”

Of course, he had refused to watch the movie at first, and of course, you had threatened him with phoning Wade to let him know that Logan wanted to have a sleepover. That had done the trick.

You had asked for a day off at the bar, and surprisingly, your boss hadn’t objected. That turn of events led to this moment: sprawled out on the couch with Logan, the two of you watching the final minutes of your favorite film. Logan takes a long drag of his cigar, eyes trained intently on the screen. He’s only wearing sweatpants, which had caused your attention to drift from the plot a few times. The fact that you managed to sit through the entire movie without needing to pause it makes you feel particularly invincible.

Hey.

You again.

Yeah. I, uh, was just wondering if maybe after this, if, um, you— you want to get some coffee or something.

Oh, I’m sorry. I’m sort of supposed to meet someone after this.

Okay.

“That poor fella,” Logan murmurs, taking a slow sip of his beer. You look up at him from where your head rests on his lap, a contented smile playing on your lips. His fingers absently stroke your hair.

“Just wait,” you say, pointing to the screen of your laptop.

Sure.

What’s that?

Why not?

Okay. Well, then I’ll just, uh— I’ll wait for you.

We— we’ll figure it out.

We’ll figure it out.

“They’ll figure it out!” you exclaim, but Logan quickly shushes you, his attention unwavering.

My name’s Tom.

Nice to meet you. I’m Autumn.

When the movie comes to an end, you’re met with Joseph Gordon-Levitt breaking the fourth wall, staring straight at the audience as if he knows he’s about to get himself into a mess with another girl named after a season. You sit up, your eyes eagerly searching for Logan’s. “So? Did you like it? I’ve watched it seven times now. Can’t understand how it gets better each time.”

Logan closes his mouth around his cigar, inhaling deeply before answering. “Yeah, it was pretty good,” he says, his hand finding your cheek, thumb brushing softly against your skin. “Summer’s a bitch, though.”

“I respectfully disagree,” you tell him, grabbing his beer and giving it a try, only to grimace at the taste. Shuddering, you set it back down. “Why don’t you like her character?”

“Well, for starters, she did Tom dirty. Played with him like he was a damn rag doll.”

You raise an eyebrow, hugging a cushion closer to your chest as you lean back into the couch. “He knew from the beginning she didn’t want to be his girlfriend. Summer was clear—Tom just though he was smart enough to change her mind.”

“They acted like boyfriend and girlfriend the whole movie,” he scorns, placing his cigar down into the ashtray with a bit more force than necessary.

Is your first argument going to be over a movie? Exciting.

“Logan, they weren’t even official.”

“But she made it seem like they were,” he insists, the frustration in his voice growing.

“They were in a situationship—the perfect example, really. That’s not the same as being a couple.”

His gaze dips to the floor, brows knitted in a deep frown. “I think you’re relying on the technicality that they never used those titles. I mean, they did everything together. Isn’t that what normal couples do?”

Lord have mercy.

“Logan, who am I to you?” you inquire, crossing your arms over your chest.

He hesitates, narrowing his eyes, the question clearly catching him off guard. “You are—what? I don’t understand. Is this some kind of mind game you’re playing?”

“It’s actually very simple: if someone were to ask you about me, what would you say? Am I a friend? A bartender?” you inch forward, holding your breath, your tone faltering slightly. Meanwhile, Logan’s hands tighten into fists at his sides. “A fling? Your girlfriend? You complain so much about Summer, yet you can’t even name what we have.”

The living room falls into a heavy silence. Logan blinks slowly, his forehead creasing as he processes your words. “Why are you doing this to me?”

“Because these are the kinds of conversations we need to have. I understand you don’t want to have them, but I do.”

“Fine. Then tell me what it is that you want,” he asks, his mouth snapping shut when he sees you snorting in response.

“I don’t— I don’t know! To know how you feel, if possible?” you stand up from the couch, taking the cushion with you. You grind your jaw, gnawing on your bottom lip. “Why is it that every time I try to touch you, you push me away?”

He scrunches up his face, mirroring your movements and rising from his seat. “Bub, can we please talk about this tomorrow—”

“No! You don’t get to make all the choices, that’s not fair. Deciphering you isn’t easy, Logan. I’m not asking you to tell me everything you’ve been through. I just wish I could know how you feel about me. I can’t stand in front of you and pretend I don’t mind where this is going, because I’m more than sure I’m falling in love with you. “

“You can’t. You shouldn’t,” he says, his expression hardening. He turns his back to you, running his hands over his face in frustration before heading to the kitchen.

“Well, what were you expecting?” you follow him into the kitchen, finding Earnest on top of the fridge, beholding the scene with a curious gaze. “You basically moved in here, gave me a free trial of what life with you might be like, and now you have the audacity to appear surprised when I tell you I’ve caught feelings?” salty tears start rolling down your cheeks, and you spread your arms wide in exasperation. “Oh, but you’re right. How could I’ve been this stupid, to fall for the damned Wolverine!” you laugh bitterly, expecting him to break eye contact, but he doesn’t. “You think you’re so bad, so broken. Guess what: you’re not, because I love you, and I couldn’t care less about your past. You may think you’re unlovable, but you’re not, you hear me?”

For a heartbeat, the world seems to pause. And so he says:

“You are the most exasperating person I know.”

“Wow. Thank you so much!” you retort, your voice dripping with sarcasm. You run a hand through your hair, infuriated. “That makes me feel better!”

“Let me do the talking now,” he says, taking long strides toward you, and the proximity makes you lower your head. “You’re not getting the final say today. Just because I’m not over-sharing my feelings all the time doesn’t mean I don’t have them! In fact, I do. I may not express them openly, but they exist. And I wish you could see inside my head! You’d be delighted at how much time I spend thinking about you,” you cackle at his words, rolling your eyes. His fingers grip your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. “There hasn’t been a single moment since the day we met that I have stopped wanting you. Your voice is like a goddamn radio that, no matter what I do, I can’t turn off. It’s like I’m infected by you, and I hate it!” his eyes burn with a mix of anger and affectionpur, his pursed lips softening as he continues. “No good ever comes from caring this much about someone. So excuse me for being scared of ruining the only good thing that’s happened to me in years!”

You hit him with the cushion—not with enough force to make him hurt, but enough to make a point.

“Drop it, kid.”

“I’m—” you hit him again, “not—” and again, “stupid. I know what I’m getting myself into,” as you attempt to raise the cushion once more, Logan takes it from your hands, throwing it on the counter. Your shoulders sag, trying to find the strength to keep going. “And I know for a fact,” you add, glancing at his conflicted eyes, “that the easiest thing for me would be to walk away from you, but I can’t. It’s too fucking late.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“I do! These are my feelings, okay? Mine, not yours. You don’t have the right to decide who I love and who I don’t.”

Logan’s eyes squint, scanning your face. “You’re… obnoxious.”

“Yeah, tell me something I don’t know.”

“And I—I love you,” he confesses, his nostrils flaring with emotion. Opening your mouth to say something, you close it moments later, your gaze locked on his. “You could take what you said, pretend as if I didn’t exist, and I wouldn’t say a thing, y’understand? I would move cities if you asked me, because I love you that fucking much, and I want you to be happy.”

You reach for his hand, briefly intertwining your fingers with his. Looking at him through your eyelashes, you rub your fingers over his stubble. “And what if my happiness comes from being with you?”

Logan lets out a harsh breath, his arm curling around your waist, pressing his chest to yours. “I can’t promise I’ll be the perfect boyfriend. I’ll probably makeplenty of mistakes.”

“Fine with me.”

“And you’ll be mad at me. A lot.”

“Don’t worry about that. I’ll make sure it’s mutual.”

Both of you laugh then, and you’re taken aback when he brushes his nose against your cheek, silently seeking permission to kiss you. His lips move hungrily against yours, trailing his hands down your spine, pulling you closer. He breaks the kiss and laughs at your eagerness when you chase after his mouth. You end up perched on his lap as he settles into one of your kitchen chairs. Logan stares into your eyes, his gaze drifting lower. “I won’t push you away this time. Not anymore.”

That’s your cue to finally do what you’ve been yearning for weeks. You fall to your knees in front of him, shaky fingers that graze the hairs on his happy trail. The bulge in his sweatpants is close to your face, and your mouth waters at the thought of having him between your lips. “Can I?” you ask, your voice a touch higher. 

He draws a long breath, tilting his head slightly. “You may, baby.”

You pull at his sweatpants and boxers, sliding them down his legs just enough to free his hard cock. As you take a look at it, you find yourself at a loss for words, the sight overwhelming. Nothing could’ve prepared you for the first taste of his precum as you envelop his head between your lips, that musky scent of his hitting you.

A whimper escapes you, and Logan hisses when you run your tongue along the slit, his hands gripping the back of your neck tightly. “Fuck, darlin’. Thought about your mouth so many times, but never imagined it’d feel this good,” he cants his hips up, causing your movements to stutter. “You can take a bit more, can’t you?” his question ends with a guttural grunt, his fingers tightening on your hair. “Gotta show me how much you want this.”

Logan takes all that you give him. You lower your head further, taking in another inch of him. Sex’s supposed to feel good, but this? It feels even greater. And he’s not even inside you yet, you hear a voice murmur in your head. The hand on your nape encourages you to move faster, and you sneak a hand between your bodies, grasping him by the base. You swallow around him, eyes fluttering open when he tugs sharply at your hair..

“Thaaaat’s it, honey. Just like that, want you to choke on it,” he grumbles, running his mouth just the way you like. The tip of his cock nudges the back of your throat and tears fill your eyes. You pull away to catch your breath, still stroking him as you regain composure. Logan’s gaze is intense, and he stares into your soul, his chest heaving. “What’s wrong, sweetheart? Dick got your tongue?”

You’ll definitely get back to that joke later.

“Will you—can you—”

“Come on, beautiful. I don’t have all day.”

God, you love it when he’s mean.

“Fuck my throat,” you plead, your voice barely above a whisper.

A smile dangles on the corner of his lips. “We both know you can be nicer.”

The fucker makes your pulse race. “Can you fuck my throat?” you ask again, more insistently. “Please.”

He guides himself into your mouth, smirking as he watches how your eyes roll back in pleasure. “How polite of you to say please. Some good manners you’ve got.”

You whimper around him, your body responding to the rhythm he sets, fully immersed in the intensity of the moment. And for a while, you drift away, losing your sanity with each thrust of his hips, every tug at your hair. It’s almost impossible not to compare him to your past hookups. You try to recall at least a single instance when another man made you feel this way, but no memory surfaces.

Time seems to stretch and warp. You don’t really know when it happens—he pulls you off his cock, cradling your face, examining you. “You fucking love that, don’t you?” he asks with that sweet, syrupy voice, brushing away your tears. There’s no room left for embarrassment, so you nod, closing your mouth around his thumb. Defeated, Logan shakes his head, pressing his finger against your tongue. “I was planning on coming on your mouth, but I think I’ve got a better idea.”

In the blink of an eye, you’re in your bedroom. Not even a metaphor—he picks you up and basically runs to your room, closing the door behind him. You prop yourself on your forearms, trying to process what’s about to happen. Logan, already naked, climbs onto the bed after you, He kisses you slowly, tracing the curves of your body. “You still want this?”

“I do. I’m just… nervous, that’s all,” you admit, flashing him a quick smile. “It’s been two years of celibacy for me. Will it fit?” you ask, glancing down at his cock, and Logan stares at you in confusion. “Also, how many girlfriends have you had? Just curious.”

“I don’t think this is the time for that conversation.”

“You’re right,” you agree, lying back on the mattress, bracing yourself for what’s to come. “Were they pretty?”

“Bub.”

“Yes?”

“Shut up,” he replies with a smirk. “Focus on me, okay?”

Despite your tries to crack jokes at the worst possible moment, things escalate pretty quickly. Logan’s got three fingers inside you, pumping them in and out. He’s already made you come once with his mouth—to get you more relaxed, he had said. Wanting sounds slip past your lips as he doesn’t miss the chance to hit that spot that makes you squeeze your legs together. The tip of his nose drags long lines up and down the skin of your neck, mouthing at your jaw.

“I’m ready,” you mumble after some minutes, reaching for his cock and stroking him. “Let’s break the bed.”

“You’re lucky you’re this cute,” he says, catching your lips in a kiss. “Condom?”

“Negative, Sergeant.”

“You don’t have any?”

You shake your head, biting the inside of your cheek. “I don’t want you to use one.”

The way his gaze darkens doesn’t go unnoticed by you. His hand guides your face toward his cock. “Get me wet,” he commands, and you oblige, sucking him into your mouth. You hum around him, unable to contain yourself, and you hear Logan chuckling above you. “Can’t believe this is what it takes for you to shut up. Gotta keep your mouth full all the time.”

Once he’s satisfied with the way you’ve slicked him, he positions himself over you, caging you between his arms. Logan pins you down with his body, his hot breath mingling with yours. When you stare into his eyes, all you see is pure love, and your heart swells with affection. “Will you fuck the bad jokes out of me?”

Logan laughs, rubbing his length along your folds, grazing your clit for a fleeting second. “I sure as hell will,” he assures you, lining himself up with your wet entrance. He looks into your eyes for approval. “Ready?”

“I was born rea— Fuck!” you nearly scream as his head breaches you, your eyes squeezing shut. Turns out his fingers weren’t enough. “Fucking mutant dick.”

“You’ll love it, believe me,” he husks next to your ear. His arms shake where they rest on each side of your head, seemingly as affected as you are. Logan pulls out, and then fucks into you with a little more force.  “How are you still so tight? You’re killin’ me here.”

“I’ve got no idea, but you feel—amazing,” you gasp, latching onto his back, holding him close to you. His thrusts gain strength, and suddenly he’s bottoming inside you. “Oh, god. I can feel you in my stomach.”

“I know, baby, I know. Can feel it too,” he curls one of his hands around your throat, keeping you in place. From his position, he can watch the way your face contorts in pleasure. Lowering his head to envelop one of your nipples between his lips, he sucks hard. “You were desperate enough to get on your knees in the damn kitchen. You’ll be good now too, am I right?”

“Yes. Yes. I can be good,” you pant, eyes wide and pleading. “Anything you want. Just don’t stop.”

“I’m not stoppin’, princess. Don’t worry,” his mouth curves into a wicked grin as he drives into you again, this time even deeper. His hand on your throat tightens slightly, just enough to make you feel the pressure, grounding you in the moment. “That’s my girl,” he murmurs against your chest, his voice laden with need. 

Each thrust has you gasping, your body arching off the bed to meet his. Logan’s grip on your neck loosens as his hand slides down to grasp your hip. He squeezes your tender flesh, pulling you harder against him, as if he can’t get close enough. The bed creaks under the intensity, but you barely notice, too far lost in the rhythm of his movements.

“You’re perfect, all I’ve ever wanted,” he slips his free hand between your bodies to find your clit, and the moment his fingers make contact with it, you can’t help but whine. “So fuckin’ perfect,” you hear him repeat, more to himself than to you, his voice stranded as he tries to hold himself back, letting you chase your own release first.

The pressure inside you builds up, tightening with every skilled flick of his fingers. You’re sure you must look like a mess, sweaty and sticky, though the way he looks at you makes you forget everything else. “Logan, I’m—” you croak, the wind being knocked out of your lungs with each relentless thrust. “I think I’m gonna come.”

He picks up speed, snapping his hips faster. “I’ve got you, let go for me. I’ll take care of you, baby, I swear,” his pace becomes erratic, digging his fingers into the softness of your thighs as the headboard keeps slamming against the wall. Your body obeys him, a shuddering release tearing through you, moaning Logan’s name and gripping him like a vice. “That’s it, fuck, that’s it,” he doesn’t stop, driving you through your orgasm. His eyes snap to your face, contemplating how wrecked you look. “Tell me where—please, sweetheart.”

“Inside.”

“What?”

“I said inside. Come inside me, Logan.”

He’s not strong enough to deny you such a thing. Logan buries himself to the hilt, groaning your name as his cock twitches and paints your walls with his thick seed. Beside your head, his claws unsheate, tearing into the pillow. He ruts against you, his body trembling and writhing against yours, already apologizing for the pillow incident while pressing his forehead to your shoulder. “Sorry, I’m sorry. That hasn’t happened in a while.”

When Logan collapses beside you, he pulls you into his arms, kissing you eagerly. You return the kiss, wincing as you feel a bit of his cum slip out of you, rolling down your thighs. He stares at your glistening cunt without an ounce of remorse, and you close your legs. “That’s private.”

“It wasn’t very private a minute ago.”

“Logan?”

“Tell me, bub.”

“Knock, knock.”

He must truly love you, because he plays along: “Who’s there?”

“Ice cream.”

“Ice cream who?”

“Ice cream for you all night long.”

“Guess I didn’t succeed in fuckin’ the bad jokes out of you,” he teases softly, letting his head fall back on the bed. “But it’s fine. I’ll just have to keep tryin’.”

This is the story of how you end up dating a man who’s two hundred years old. But it’s also the story of how that same man learns to let his guard down and open his heart. So, remember this, kids: the sky’s the limit, especially when it comes to love—and yes, even when it involves dating mutants.

dividers by: @cafekitsune thank you!!! :)

[aealzx]

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Phantom Rogues (Prequel)

Next

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“Would yOU PEOPLE JUST LISTEN!”

Danny’s exasperated anger was punctuated by a sharp ecto shotgun blast into the nearest tank the GIW had amassed. They were still trying to destroy the Infinite Realms, new agents having convinced the older ones that the Infinite Realms being connected to their realm was a hoax to keep them from following through. Jazz, Sam, and Tucker were all barricaded behind what remained of their equipment, so it was only Danny and Danielle who remained amidst this reality ripped in between the two realms that GIW’s stupid equipment had created. Yet once again Danny wasn’t able to continue his attack, getting cut off by a mostly startled scream from Danielle as they once again focused their fire on her. First it had been the humans of the team, now it was Danielle, and it was really starting to piss Danny off.

“Stop targeting her you sick bastards! She’s fourteen!” Danny belted, flying yet again between their weapons and Danielle, and blasting the cannon with a prolonged stream of ectoplasm to bend its course. They would soon shift it back to pointing at them, but at least that took a few seconds.

“So you claim. Yet the only thing it means for us is that she’s a liability for you. You’re the stronger one, but you’ll let your guard down for her. A pathetic imitation of humanity that may have won over the Fentons, but not us. We know you’re nothing but an imitation of humans made by nothing more than destructive residue.” That was Operative N, the new blood that had worked up the ranks. Danny liked to call him Nimrod.

“We’re not faking it!” Danny shouted back, feeling his voice crack with the desperate protest. “SOME ghosts are residue, but others are just as sentient and full of good emotions as humans are.” If only he could turn this stupid human into a ghost so he could see it too. But life, even stupid life, was too precious to waste just to prove a point.

“....Test run the experiment,” Operative N directed, unfazed by Danny’s outburst. The Operative next to him stepped forward as others to the sides of them started firing a barrage of ectoblasts their way. It was a distraction to keep their attention, Danny knew that. But Danielle still wasn’t as good as he was, and he didn’t miss the way the experimental blaster pulsed red instead of green. He couldn’t let Danielle get hit by that, so when she let out another yelped scream, getting hit by three ectoblasts, Danny flung himself into her when the other Operative took that as an opening.

The experimental blaster was faster than the originals, and Danny didn’t have time to bring up a shield after body slamming Danielle away. He could only tense in preparation for the damage, knowing he could handle more than Danielle could when it came to a beating.

He wasn’t ready for this.

The bloody red blast of energy wasn’t ectoplasm, and when it slammed into Danny’s chest his voice ripped from him in a startled scream of agony as he realized what they had done. The barbed wire poison splitting his ghostly skin held a familiar scorching dry flame feeling that he’d only experienced once before, a hand flying to his ribs as he crashed to the ground and couldn’t help curling into a ball, deaf to his friends’ and family’s cries for him.

Those freaks had weaponized blood blossoms.

It was worse than being trapped in a barrier of them, the poison now sank into his flesh instead of caressing it with noxious fumes. The fight wasn’t over though, so he willed his twitching limbs to work as he wanted them to, shoving them underneath himself to push himself upright, never mind the green blood dripping from his side.

“There we go,” Operative N commented emotionlessly, motioning with his hand to another Operative. “Use him now.”

That was the only warning Danny had before a clamp half his size snapped down on top of him, binding him in its case and pulling him from the broken ground. Danny let out a strangled noise as his arm was smashed against his injured ribs, legs scrambling to try and remain connected to the soil and feeling the anti ghost barrier keeping him trapped in the prickly bindings. It was only when he heard a slight click, and the fat needles poking into his skin started ripping energy from him that he vaguely remembered something about them using him as a battery for their machine. They obviously didn’t care how it treated him either, for Danny could swear getting electrocuted hurt less.

“Scream all you want, Phantom. Not even you could break out of there now that we’ve worn you down,” Operative N commented, having the audacity to sound bored.

Danny barely registered Danielle repeatedly sinking what power she could into the clamp that had a hold of him, but it didn’t seem effective. He hadn’t wanted to resort to blowing everything up, not sure what the machines would do to the realms they were connected to if they burst from overload.

But at this point he didn’t see any other option. If the realms were going to blow up, then he’d rather they blow up because he tried to save them.

If you want to hear me scream, then I’ll scream.

Danny’s defiant thought was accompanied by him forcing his mouth to snap shut, struggling with half stifled gasps to fill his lungs with as much air as they could hold. It took a minute too long, but as soon as he maxed out the air he could hold Danny forced it out again in a drawn out wail.

Jazz had expressed before that she hated hearing Danny’s ghostly wail. She’d even commented that the name itself seemed like a pathetic attempt to calm the fears of children when stories were told about it. As Danny’s abilities had advanced the wail became less of a B movie imitation of ghosts and more of a source of nightmares. A distorted sound of burst eardrum silence smothered by shrieking similar to subtle tinnitus, but with the undertone of the voices of those who had died screaming.

Jazz always heard her brother’s voice over the others.

This was the first time Danny had fully figured out how to make his wail non directional. An orb of earth shattering sound rippling in waves from his form, crushing the machines around them like sealed cans dropped in liquid nitrogen. The only reason his allies weren’t hurt was because the waves were strangely more gentle in their direction, just enough that Danielle could hold a barrier over them while they pressed their palms to their ears, collapsing to their knees.

The wailing only lasted slightly less than two minutes, but the chain reaction explosions continued for several more. As soon as the device holding him was broken Danny let out a ripple of ectoplasm to shatter it. Then soft coils snapped out and wrapped around his allies, dragging them closer to his floating form where he could raise a shield around all of them.

Sam took charge of shielding Tucker and Danielle with her own body as realm rending explosions thrashed their tiny bubble to and fro. Danny was able to keep them from being thrown against the sides of the barrier, but none of them could even attempt to stand with all the vibrations of varying intensities. Jazz stole as long of a look at Danny as she could since she couldn’t do anything else, feeling her heart skip a beat when she saw the hole punched into the left side of his chest, blast marks searing out from it to cover his shoulder and nick his cheek. All of the wounds were oozing the green blood Danny had as Phantom, but he didn’t seem to be paying them any mind.

Another sharp, shuddering jerk signaled the end of their whirlwind ride, and suddenly the group had perfectly still, solid ground under them and silence ringing in their ears. It was deafening, in a good way compared to the wail from before, and Jazz heard the others mimic her shuddering breaths. But before she could visually check on her brother she heard him fall. Nothing like the exhausted drops he did when he couldn’t quite make it to the ground before letting gravity take hold of him again. It was the heavy crumple of a human body being dumped. And as Jazz snapped her head up Danny’s face fell into her view, his eyes closed and figure completely limp. Jazz watched his cheeks drain from color as a new spot of red bloomed across his white shirt, and her voice refused to speak.

Scrambling to her baby brother, Jazz cupped a hand to his cheek, horrified at the rapidly dropping temperature of his skin and using her other hand to shake his shoulder as roughly as she dared. Her voice found itself in moments to scream what had been repeating in her head.

“DANNY!”

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IIiiii am not immune to brain rot |D If you’re confused, good, I am too

Today my brain chose violence, and gave me some of the details of what led to the DP team getting ported to DC verse. So I wrote them while spamming the same 6 songs X’D And then I drew 2 pictures because I wanted both vibes.

This is getting way more attention that I even guessed might happen * wheeze *, so just a few disclaimers just so people are aware:

the DP crew are 2 years older than in the cartoon. because I can

Jack and Maddie are becoming really good parents. Because I’m tired of the “omg I’m a teenager and my parents suck” trope. They know Danny and Danielle are halfas, and it took them about a year to fully accept that. Now they’re rewriting studies to support sentient ghosts and more humane ways to deal with the violent ones.

It’s only in the recent months that they’ve started to actually study ways to help ghosts/halfas. So a lot of medical stuff for them is still unknown, but Jazz knows a bit more first aid than the average teen.

I’m not going to have romance at all. I find pushing the platonic boundaries way more fun and interesting. If you think it's romance, it's not.

I’m also more interested in Danny and Jazz’s sibling relationship than whatever either of them have going on with Sam and Tucker.

No update schedule. I follow the whims of my not normal brain.

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Tag list: @galaxy-sharks-and-bottled-ships, @starscreamlover, @nerdynonnativenarnian, @dragongoblet, @zeestarfishalien, @bellathecatastrophe, @cj-ghostemoji-destielpie, @asexual-insomniac, @wolfeyedwitch

[omgeto]

☆ GHOSTING — GETO SUGURU X READER

summary: after being made aware of your long term ex boyfriends plans to 'fix' the world, you knew that you had to try and stop him. but seeing him for the first time in a decade; all the love, the hate, the heartbreak comes right back to you both and you realise you care about him a lot more than you thought.

wc: 4.7k (of pure goodness....)

cw: afab!reader, mdni, angst to fluff (kinda) cult leader ex boyfriend!geto, kinda sorta canon (its the day that geto yk...) he eats you out like its his last meal, half hate fucking, full making love, and a whole lot of geto being culty and cunty. this one has a plot people!!

authors note: guys yk I love a good exes to lovers fic so the argument in this one hits different and the whole idea of you and suguru breaking up just before he runs off to run his cult really gets to me, so I hope you enjoy this one.

geto suguru hasn’t seen you in years, in almost a decade, and is still reeling harshly from how you left him when he needed you. but somehow he finds himself rushing to meet you when he gets the four word text from your number—which is still saved in his phone under ‘my girl’— saying, ‘we need to talk.’

he knows exactly what you want to speak about, he could easily put together why today of all days you’d want to see —after vanishing him for just over a decade. he figured gojo probably gave word to you, as from when you’ve been young and growing up together, you’ve all known that if gojo couldn’t get through to him, you could.

he opens the door to your apartment, knowing that you wouldn’t have locked it—you always had a habit of leaving it open for him. and there you are, standing in the dimly lit room, waiting for his arrival. the years have etched subtle changes onto your face and in your demeanour, but the essence of who you are remains unchanged. time may have separated you, but in this moment, it feels as though it has never passed.

“you can't do this,” is the first thing you say, your voice steady despite the unexpected surge of emotions upon seeing him again. you didn't think seeing him after all this time would affect you, but it did. his hair is longer, his frame more imposing, but that unmistakable smirk remains, a haunting reminder of the man you once knew.

“wow right to the chase,” he chuckles bitterly, his presence taking up the room as he enters the room further, “i forgot you never really had a thing for beating around the bush.”

you meet his bitter chuckle with a steady gaze, your resolve unwavering. the years of separation have done nothing to diminish the intensity of your connection, the push and pull between you two.

"it's not the time for games, suguru," you reply, your tone serious. "you know why i called you here."

he sighs, his shoulders slumping ever so slightly. the weight of his plans, the burden he carries, is evident in the lines etched on his face. "i figured you'd call sooner or later."

the room seems to shrink as the gravity of the situation hangs between you. the man you once knew, the one who could make your heart race with a smile, now stands before you, shrouded in darkness.

"i won't let you go through with this," you say firmly, your eyes never leaving his. "there's another way, suguru. there has to be."

for a moment, his façade cracks, and you catch a glimpse of the person he used to be, the one who believed in a better world. but then the hardness returns to his eyes, and he steps closer, his presence overwhelming.

"you always were too idealistic," he mutters, almost to himself. "but i can't turn back now. the world needs this change."

"what happened to you?" you snap out, your words laced with a bitter edge that hangs heavily in the air. it's a question that carries the weight of your years of frustration, anger, and confusion. but you knew what happened to him; everyone knew.

his reaction is immediate, and the room seems to tremble with his anger. his gaze narrows, and the atmosphere becomes charged with tension. "you don't get to ask that," he spits out, his voice dripping with bitterness. "you left, remember? you abandoned me when i needed you the most."

“it wasn’t like that,” you argue, leaning forward, your body tense. “by the time i left you were already gone, being physically present in a relationship doesn’t mean anything if your mind is fucking checked out all the time. at that point i was just dating a shell of you.” 

“is that how you justify it?" he retorts, his anger unabated. "you think leaving was the solution?”

you clench your fists, your own anger rising to meet his. "i did what i had to do to protect myself, suguru. you were spiralling, consumed by your own darkness. I couldn't save you"

his eyes blaze with a mixture of fury and hurt. "you think i needed saving?

“you still need saving,” you scoff gesturing to him standing right in front of you, “just because you couldn’t save—”

“don’t even go there,” he interrupts, his hand raising to stop you. he knew you were talking about riko, “i’ve made peace with that.”

“oh have you?” you accuse, “since it seems to me, you’ve been on a killing spree, ever since.”

“other people died y’know,” he hisses out, “remember haibara? he was your fucking friend, but you weren’t even there.”

“this isn’t about me,” you say disregarding his comment, regret seeping through you, “you think i haven’t kept tabs on you since i’ve been away. who have you become?”

he glares at you, his anger evident. "i've become what the world needs," he snaps, his voice heavy. "someone willing to do what it takes to change things."

"and is killing a village full of people the way to do that?" you challenge, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and sorrow. "killing your..." You pause, overwhelmed by the thoughts and images of what he's done. "was killing your parents worth it?"

his expression hardens, and for a moment, you see a glimmer of regret in his eyes, but it's quickly masked by his resolve. "i had to make sacrifices," he says coldly. "it's a small price to pay for a greater cause."

“you can’t truly think that,” you say, taking a step closer to him, your fists still clenched at your sides. “how did it feel killing them then? to take away the lives of your own parents who were innocent?” you probe, you knew that there was some part of him that must feel bad.”

“you’re about… ten years too late to be trying to have this conversation with me,” he shrugs, the turmoil that geto felt when he first set out on his mission has ceased. the guilt he felt for killing his parents, even the grief he had for something that he caused, wasn’t a factor for him anymore.

your frustration boils over as you press him further. "so, you've become heartless, then?" you challenge. the room seems to tighten around you as you await his response. "a cold-blooded killer who's convinced himself that the ends justify the means?"

geto's gaze narrows, his patience dwindling. "it's not about being heartless. it's about doing what's necessary to achieve our goals."

"your goals," you emphasise, "not mine. and not the goals of the innocent people you've hurt along the way."

he sighs, exasperation creeping into his voice. "you always had a way of making everything so complicated, questioning every choice. you left because you couldn't handle the real world."

you shake your head, unwilling to accept his justifications. "no, i left because i couldn't stand by and watch you become a monster."

“so i’m just a monster, yeah?” he retorts, stepping towards you, his anger evident across his face, you could see your words triggered him, and as he gets closer you could feel your facade faltering. 

your heart races as he approaches, and you raise a hand instinctively, palm out, to signal him to stop. "don't come any closer," you warn, your voice trembling with a mixture of fear and anger. there was no rational reason to be scared of him, you’ve known him for years, and despite everything that he’s done —what he’s become— there was still a part of you that believed that he wouldn’t hurt you.

but geto ignores your plea, his determination unwavering. he grabs your hand firmly, his grip surprisingly gentle despite the intensity of the moment. his dark eyes bore into yours, and he speaks in a low, taunting tone, "why? are you scared that with me being this close, you're going to realise that you loved a monster? that you're still in love with him?"

you grit your teeth, refusing to let him get under your skin. "suguru, you don't get to manipulate me with your twisted version of love," you retort, your voice laced with defiance. "i won't let you use my feelings against me.

his words hit you like a punch to the gut, and you're torn between the conflicting emotions swirling inside you. the memories of the love you once shared, the pain of his transformation into something unrecognisable, and the lingering attraction between you all crash together in this charged moment.

you try to pull your hand away, to regain control of the situation, but geto's grip tightens, preventing your escape. his face inches closer to yours, and despite your better judgement, your breath hitches. “manipulation, huh?” geto muses, his mouth so close to yours that you feel his breath faintly brush across your lips. you look up at him through your lowered eyelashes, and in that fleeting pause, so small that it’s almost imperceptible, you find yourself considering the gravity of your actions, if only for a moment.

the feeling of doubt is short lived, as you press your lips against geto’s, his mouth immediately moulding into yours. the kiss is searing, as you push your bodies against each other, he releases your hand from his grip, his hands move to cradle your head, holding it in place as he deepens the kiss, bruising your lips with his.

everything about geto is familiar, the taste of him, the warmth of his mouth, the way he consumes you. his tongue explores yours, wrestling for control as your arms scratch at him trying to tug off his robe. you wanted him to feel you, all of you—your touch, your lips, your hurt, your anger, the love that you still have that you thought was small. but after seeing him, kissing him, you realise is still an overwhelmingly large part of you.

you pull apart to catch your breath, staring hard at each other, but there’s barely a moment wasted before your back on eachother. kissing each other feverishly, as you rip off each other's clothes, he pushes you hard, your back slamming against the nearest piece of furniture as his mouth latches onto your neck. his kisses cascade down your body, stopping at your breasts as he unhooks your bra, tossing it aside.

“i missed these,” he murmurs, as his lips descend onto your tits, his face nuzzling at your chest as he sucks and pulls at your nipples with his teeth. “and i missed this,” he continues to mumble, his hands cupping your clothed pussy, his finger lightly caressing your slit. 

you arch forward into his touch, wanting to feel him more and chuckles saying, “even after all these years, you still respond to my touch just the same.” his fingers plunge into your panties, brushing against your clit and he smirks as your lips part a stifled moan escaping your lips—proving his point.

“s-shut up,” you hiss out, as you slowly start to gyrate against his fingers. although it was obvious from the way you were already soaking your underwear, you didn’t want to admit how good he is actually making you feel—you just couldn’t give him the satisfaction. geto raises his eyebrows at you in amusement, as he watches you bite your lip trying to contain your moans, as his fingers inch into your inviting pussy.

geto’s body moves down yours as he removes his lips from your tits, continues to press kisses down your stomach, as he drops down to his knees —his eyes level with your cunt. he presses a kiss to your covered pussy, before sliding off your panties. his mouth is just about to latch onto you but he pauses looking up at you, his gaze unwavering, “you want this right?” you nod slowly, your anticipation brewing as your eyes lock onto his, “use your words.”

you release an exasperated huff, but he remains steadfast, his raised eyebrow a silent declaration that he won't act until you tell him what he wants to hear. the room seems to pulse with tension, the growing desire between you mounting with each heartbeat.

your hands slide it’s way into his hair, pushing your fingers through his scalp, as you grin, you voice is low and sultry as you say, “i want it.” his mouth envelopes your pussy and you push his head into you deeper, forcing your nose into your arousal. he inhales you, taking in your scent as he presses his face in your cunt. 

“such a pretty pussy,” he mutters lowly, you could feel the vibrations spread through your pussy. his tongue strokes down your slit, before pushing into you, he twists and slurps at you trying to suck out all of your juices. 

geto nibbles at your clit, tugging at it with his teeth before bringing his fingers back to cunt. shoving two fingers in roughly. you pull his hair harshly, the feeling of his mouth sucking on your clit leaving your mind blank. “ah f-fuck,” you cry out, as geto’s strokes grow more intense.

“c’mon let me hear you more,” geto prompts, pulling away slightly from your pussy, his lips plump and coated from your wetness. he grabs one of your legs and hikes it over his shoulder, the angle allowing him to force his fingers into you further, curling them up in your pussy as he goes back to shoving his face in your sobbing cunt.

you grind your pussy in his face, working with him in getting you off. both of your movements were frantic, geto is eating your pussy with such eagerness, hungrily trying to drink all of your cum. “i’m close s-sugu i’m—” you choke out, feeling yourself slipping down the wall you pressed against, but geto holds you upright, his large hand keeping your thigh hooked over his shoulder and roughly pushing you up against the wall.

geto grins against your cunt, your moans and cries is a sound he didn’t realise how much he missed until he heard them now. you laboured breathing, stammered sentences told him that you were reading cum, but he just had to push you further. so he adds one more finger, sending it straight to your spot, twisting and pushing it in your pussy so hard that tears brim your eyes. he was so relentless, you always loved that about him, how he knows your body in and out, he knew exactly where to touch, and just how far he should push to have you becoming a mess for him.

you couldn’t take him anymore, so you cum, hard. your pussy releasing ropes and ropes of cum, all over geto’s fingers and his face, and he laps at it, munching all your cum with excitement. “i know you can give me more than that,” he muses, pressing his thumb down on your clit, rubbing at it aggressively as you cum. your eyes roll back, as he repeatedly flicks at your cum, and before you know it, you're squirting all over his face.

geto’s eyes widen, and he doesn’t stop playing with your pussy, until you bow your head in submission, worn out from all the cum you’ve released over him. your hands slide out of his hair, as you try and catch your breath and geto peppers your cunt and your thighs with kisses finally letting your thigh come off his shoulders. “damn your pussy’s still as sweet as ever.”

“stop with the talking,” you mumble, as you pull him up to his feet, your lips forcing their way back onto him. your hands frantically explore each other's bodies as you drag him to your bedroom, pushing him on your bed. “i can’t fucking stand you,” you mutter to yourself, your denial evident, as you straddle him, pulling his dick out of his boxers.

you pause briefly at the sight, his thick, long dick staring at you. you hear geto chuckle at your reaction, your eyes meet his with a challenging look exchanged between you, he raises his eyebrow at you, a silent dare on whether you’ll actually be able to get the control that you’re aiming to have. 

you hover over his dick, your pussy still dripping, geto bites his lip in anticipation as you tease him, slowly edging yourself down onto him. your pussy greedily, takes in his dick as you force yourself down on him as immediately fills you, stretching out your cunt with one push. you start to ride him, hard and fast, rocking your body forward as you bounce up and down on him, your hand pressing down on his stomach to keep you steady.

geto sits up, stifling a moan as he feels your cunt clench around his dick with everyone of your movements. he tries to thrust up into you, but he just can’t match the relentless rhythm you had, “f-fuck,” he exhales, a moan escaping his mouth, and you smirk —you have him just where you wanted him.

“you alright there suguru?” you mock, the grin spread across your face unmissable as you grind yourself down against him, tightening your pussy around his pole as you slid up and down. the bite on his lip hardens as he pulls it further between his teeth to suppress another moan.

but geto doesn’t submit for long, his hand slaps you across your tits and his fingers pinch your nipples, twisting and tugging them, causing you to arch your back as you wail. “d’you r-really think you run shit here?” he groans, flicking at your nipples with every word, “you’ll never be in control, not with me,” he taunts.

“oh really?” you retort, as you still continue to move your ass, meeting his hips. you can feel him start to pick up his pace, trying to match yours, his hips slightly thrusting upwards, his dick pushing into you deeper.

“yeah,” he says confidently through gritted teeth, one of his hands pulling away from your nipples and onto your ass, harshly grabbing one of your cheeks to steady himself as he drills into you further, “because you’re still my girl.” 

you still at his words, you knew he didn’t mean it but you couldn’t help but react to the name that he always used to refer to you as. geto could see your eyes become vacant, as you think back to the memories when you were truly his girl. you used to revel in that —the feeling of being his. he takes advantage of your pause, your rhythm halted as he takes over, now setting the pace as he charges his dick into you, stuffing you further. 

“suguru f-fuck you’re so—” you sob out, as he breaks down your wall, his strokes hitting your spot perfectly. your body buckles, crumbling at the force that geto was using as he repeatedly thrusts into you, his hand pushing you in further so his dick can get an even better angle in you.

“i’m so what?” he retorts, knowing you wouldn’t be able to string an answer together from the way he is fucking you dumb. geto couldn’t deny that he is getting some joy out seeing you all drunk on his dick, reduced to nothing but moans and incoherent sentences, he liked being the one to break you down. “am i still a monster, someone you can’t stand being around?”

you sloppily nod your head, trying to keep some resolve, but your efforts are pointless since all the insults and accusations you were spouting earlier are now futile, you lost your care in getting him to do the right thing, all you want now is for him to stay like this — inside of you. 

“s-shit i can’t take it a-anymore im gonna cu—” you force out, clenching yourself around little his dick hard as you feel your orgasm building up. but geto’s movements stop for a second as he pulls his dick out of you, flipping you over, your back landing hard on your bed. he leans over you, his focus fixed on you, but at this point, his eyes don’t hold the same heartache, and hurt that they did when he first stepped into your house. the geto that is looking at you now, is the one who’d always look at you everyday, ten years ago —with love and longing.

he strokes his dick down your aching pussy, teasing you with it, but just before he puts it in, his hand caresses your face cupping your chin as he says, “when i said you were still my girl, i meant it y’know?” and your lips part in surprise at his admission. “although it hurt me, when you left me, you just never stopped being my girl.”

“suguru i-i don’t know what to say,” you stammer, and you didn’t realise until he swipes under your eye, that you were crying. there was so much more to your relationship with geto than just some highschool romance, you loved another, and no one could tell you otherwise. 

“tell me that you are,” he prompts, now pressing kisses to your tear stained face, his lips moving down to yours, “tell me that you are still my girl,” he finishes in between kisses. his hopeful eyes still remain on yours, and you could feel him slowly inching his dick into you.

you wrap your legs around his back, your arms hooking around his neck as you pull his head next to yours, your mouth near his ear as you whisper, “i am still yours.” he pushes his dick back into you, his strokes deep and slow. it was different from before, there was no competition or hate between you as you fucked, you didn’t have a point to prove other than the fact that you still loved each other. 

geto’s moans are loud, he has nothing to hold back as he growls lowly in your ear. the way he holds you, and takes his time kisses you and fucking you as if he was accounting for this potentially being his last ever time doing so. “i’ll never get enough of this.”

“then don’t go,” you whine, and your words hold a deeper meaning that you both knew but won’t acknowledge knowing it is pointless to discuss any further. you pull him into you deeper, your thighs clenching around him as your hold tightens. 

the feeling of you pulling him in, has him clenching his eyes as your pussy takes him in, his mouth takes yours in a powerful kiss, before he mumbles “you gonna let me cum in you, leave you with every last bit of me.” you don’t even respond, just deepening the kiss, your head shaking in agreement.

you both cum together, geto spraying your walls as he sinks his face into the crook of your neck, sinking his teeth into your exposed flesh as he continues to shoot ropes of cum inside of you. you claw at his back as you feel all of him enter you, your cum mixing with his as you cry out in full pleasure.

his forehead rests against yours, as the last bits of his cum enter you and neither of you say anything, all that can be heard is just heavy breaths coming from the both of you. you didn’t know what was to happen now, there was still so much left unsaid, unresolved and things have changed now that geto is literally stuffed inside of you.

geto is about to pull out of you finally, but you stop him muttering a faint, “stay,” and he does. he knows he had somewhere to be, things to do that are bigger than the both of you, but he just couldn’t leave when you ask him to stay. he manoeuvres your body so that you now lay atop him, comfortably cockwarming him as he thumb brushes gentle strokes down your arm.

“y’know i’ve got these two girls, who i think would love you,” he muses.

“what? did you manage to become a father whilst i was away?” you tease.

“something like that, yeah,” he mumbles, a small smile forming on his face as thoughts of nanako and mimiko flash through his mind — they’re a bittersweet reminder of the new life he’s built without you, one that you wouldn’t be able to fit in. it wasn’t that long ago that you’d have thoughts about geto fathering your own kids, dreams of somewhat of a domestic life that you’d now never get to have with him.

“well maybe i can meet them,” you say non-committedly.

“yeah maybe…” his voice falters, as you both know that it would never happen.

“do you enjoy it then?” you ask, “this ‘new’ life of yours.” you could tell just by the brief mention of nanako and mimiko and the way he carries himself that he does enjoy his life, but you were hoping that he’d still answer no.

geto hesitates for a moment, his gaze drifting to the ceiling as he contemplates your question, “i…” he begins, his gaze returning to yours, “i won’t lie. it’s different, and there’s moments i find true solace in it, this has been my life for a long time now, so it’s just something i’ve really gotten used to.”

“and you’re happy to go back to it, after this?” your question is loaded, and you feel dumb for even asking but when you did call him over to get him to not go through with his plans, of course your motivations have slightly changed, but your goal is still the same. 

 “i don’t think you should ask me to make a choice, knowing that im not going to choose you,” he grits out, he doesn’t want to hurt your feelings, but 

“you’re not gonna win you know, satoru wouldn’t let it happen,” you couldn’t help yourself, the rejection he just gave you stung, and you wanted him to feel what you felt.

but geto doesn’t bite, he knows you’re hurting—that he’s the cause of it, so he lets you hurt, his hold tightening comfortably as you sulk in his arms. geto places a kiss on your temple, ignoring your comment as he concludes, “let’s just not, okay?”

geto stays with you until your breathing settles into a steady rhythm, and you don’t notice him slipping out of you. he cleans you up and tucks you into your bedsheets, giving you one final stare as if he’s trying to keep a mental image of how you look when he’s last seen you. his lips meet yours in a final, chaste kiss and he mutters a promise that he didn’t think you’d hear, but you do, stirring awake as his lips leave yours, “i’ll see you again… eventually.”

you wake up to an empty room, the warmth of geto's presence replaced by a stark emptiness. the realisation hits you like a wave of cold water – he's gone, leaving nothing behind but soiled sheets and a hollow ache in your chest. there's no note, no message, no trace of his ever being there, except for the lingering scent of him that clings to the air. you know that someone will eventually inform you of the outcome of the night, but deep down, you already suspect that his last promise to you will end up being broken.

AN: first like proper proper real juicy fic that ive written in a long time imo and its just like this took me so long since im soooo sensitive about my geto fics and im just like overly critical about my angsty and fluff and plot fics and my smut and JUST EVERYTHING but I managed to get it all done and I think some parts of this really hit hard. the ending is ofc bittersweet since if we go by canon, he goes and yuta beats his fuckinggg ass and he dies wtf but... the true ending is really up to your imagination. (not really) like dont even think about the ending just focus on the fact that they NEVER TELL EACHOTHER THAT THEY LOVE EACH OTHER BECAUSE UR SO IN LOVE THAT YOU ADMITTING THAT UR STILL 'HIS GIRL' IS ALL THE CONFIRMATION HE NEEDS. my finished an are sooo long why because I FUCKING CAN SO I HOPE YOU ENJOY, PLEASE LMK UR THOUGHTS AND SLAY ALL DAY also thank you @kazushawty and @biscuitsngravie for reading and supporting me 🥹🥹