#mateo ( visage )

[viisiond]

MATEO AMZY- HEAD SAGE OF SPANTAMAD ; GRAND SAGE OF SUMERU

Art by: @/Mpuzzlegirl

[twilightroads]

[gifsbysimplysonia]

Hola otra vez! For anyone not familiar with my annoying rambly feedback, ahead there be

This is the end of the first paragraph of the story and it's just so fcking ... like it works SO well for me, it makes me wanna spike a football

it's hard to find places where he's thought of as a stranger. no familiar faces, no conversation, no fuss. just logan, a bottle of whisky and time.

logan had no reason to keep count. until he saw you.

Well, if there's any indication a man is smitten, I'd say it's when he decides to keep counting after 200 years on Earth cuz of YOU *ded*

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

It's super interesting to think about Logan in relation to time and age. We just went from him deciding he's got a reason to keep counting the years to him being so tired that he doesn't want to get into petty fights. And as someone who grew up with Logan on the XMen cartoon lol, I know Logan to BE petty. So whilst we can't always think of Logan in terms of age, cuz looking at his appearance can make us forget, to hear that he's so TIRED that he doesn't even wanna squabble up on occasion? Well, that's impactful. The author makes it hit home in this other way and I really like it.

And here's another example of the author getting across to us where Logan is at when we meet him in life:

you're easy on the eyes, especially to these tired old hues that have grown accustomed to staring at the same old walls.

Straight up now we have the word tired, but also old. And not in relation to himself, but what he's got eyes on. It's such a clever thing the author has done here, and I really am appreciative of it.

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

Sad face. This is very in line with the Logan I think most of us know (and adore). Gotta take all the blame, gotta punish yourself, gotta try to protect others from you by denying yourself connections. Wanna hug him.

he wonders if you know most of the tips you receive by the end of the night are from him. you're diligent, you work hard, and you deserve more than the minimum wage you're probably getting.

Also very on brand for Logan. Sees a need, fills the need, but doesn't want credit for it. He's also seeing someone he believes is worthy (and perhaps not in a way he feels he could ever be?) of more so he tries to be the provider.

it's not even lust on his mind either, he just finds himself captivated by your presence. he wonders about your life, your interests, your dreams. . .

And again, we are seeing how smitten he is because the man who has been painted as weary and bored suddenly has questions and wonderings again. That is, in the context of Logan's long a$$ existence, quite magical. But that magic is immediately followed by

though he'd be lying if he said he'd never pictured bending you over against the bar and fucking you senseless. he is an animal, after all.

and it's like

relying on others was a weakness. besides, what would you be to him but just another person he'd lose someday? it wasn't worth it. you weren't worth it. fuck.

"Relying on others was a weakness" is just hella relatable to me, so I key in on that. And then that ire being followed by showing vulnerability by thinking of her as another person he'd lose; Logan's heart has always been huge and you just know he remembers the faces and details of each person he has had to lose and she has that status already. Logan trying to lie to himself with the "not worth it" talk only to have to curse himself cuz he KNOW he's lying is also peak Logan behavior, and once again on a personal level, hiiiiiiiiiiiiiighly relatable lol. I'm always lying to myself about my own feelings.

you were strangers, this was stupid, it was all fucking stupid. but the mind of a lonely old man is a desperate one, and what logan really craves isn't just eye candy.

"Lonely and desperate" self descriptions and Logan referring to himself as "stupid." I'm sure we all wanna shake this old man, right? LOL because when he let's himself think about the truth:

he craves a touch, that first touch that sparks electricity throughout your every nerve ending, causes goosebumps to ripple along the skins surface. he craves something, anything. he was so fucking hungry. always so fucking hungry. a rumbling hunger that starts at the pit of his stomach and gnaws through him like a rabid animal frantically trying to escape a suffocating metal cage. it's a hunger he can't satisfy, he knows he can't satisfy. but he'd been alone so long.

It's connection, and it's gnawing at him. Loneliness is a helluva thing, and I think a lot of us know this. But this author is shining in the way she is describing it for us, outside of the usual age/years gone by methods. Tired, lonely, and now ravenous. And while we are in the space of a more spiritual hunger, here, it so easily slides right back to physical as well because he's thinking about a woman and wonders

surely one bite couldn't hurt?

Me literally screaming into my pumpkin pillow cuz I'm like NO IT COULDN'T LOGAN, GO GET HERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR cuz I know what's gonna follow is gonna be liiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit.

switching bars wasn't particularly appealing to him, but it was better than having to look at you and feel that familiar ache.

The self loathing and denial is top tier Logan. He will inconvenience and punish himself just as long as it's in line with denying himself cuz he just "doesn't deserve it." Siiiiiiiiiiiiiigh.

Logan then proceeds to go drain the snake before he beings his newest self inflicted penance, but she comes in to clean the bathrooms thinking they were empty.

Gurrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrl lol

your eyes lock on one another for just a split second before you quickly busy yourself with the mop again. but that split second was enough. it was enough to notice how you were looking at him.

HOW WAS SHE LOOKING AT YOU, LOGAN?!?! It's funny how if it was almost any other man, I'd snort and be like, sure buddy. But it's Logan so I have ZERO issue believing whatever he saw in her eyes let her know she DOES indeed know him and want ... well, something.

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

How interesting to see the contrast of her view of Logan because while he's always looking at her and sworn that he never caught her looking his way, she's letting us know she has definitely looked his way enough to notice he was a man in hiding. And she actually acted respectfully to respect that and not ogle him, which bummed Logan out lol.

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

Oof, she's intuitive! So she SEES what he needs and seems to be quite willing to, ahem, deliver for him but WILL HE LET HER is the big question.

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

you eye the stranger who's been watching you, tipping you. of course you've noticed, you'd have to be pretty stupid or oblivious not to. you've come to expect him at each shift, but his presence intrigued you more than the other regulars. not just because he was more handsome, considerably more handsome. no, it was those sad eyes that seemed to say a million words while his mouth remained firmly shut that had you curious. even now as he stands before you so silent you could hear a pin drop, when you look into his eyes you can feel a sea of words brewing.

I do so love the fact that she's intuitive, curious and sees beyond the big burly handsome cover. He never speaks but look at his eyes and boy, are there a thousand stories waiting to be told. And it's the SAME WAY in the present with her. Liiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiike, it's about to go off.

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

Again, I love that this goes beyond physical with her and that she's genuinely intrigued by him and by what probably most others don't see in Logan.

"i've seen you, you know," you mumble bravely, "looking at me." logan doesn't seem surprised, he brings a hand up to hold your chin, turning your face from side to side to get a proper look at you now that he has you up close. "yeah?" "yeah," you reply shakily, "thought i was imagining it at first. but by the second night it was obvious." he smirks, so he's not as subtle as he thinks.

No because how is he the King of Self Denial but somehow automatically is giving Dom the first time he approaches a woman he means to get to know? Not even embarrassing at being caught at his blatant perusal of her. SIR.

logan grips your wrists, not the suit. he wasn't talking about that now, he had to shut you up.

When I tell you this BROKE me. King of Self Inflicted Penance. I stg. And it's quite the conundrum to be going through an emotional gut punch when it's immediately followed up with

he leans in, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss as his strong hands keep a firm grip on your wrists. you submit, leaning back against the cubicle divider as you let him slip his tongue into your mouth.

and we know it is OFF TO THE RACES!!!

"taste so fuckin' sweet," he mumbles against your lips, kissing you between words, "you do this often? let men kiss you in the bathroom?" you mumble a 'no' under your breath, ". . . just the ones who tip good," you grin.

OH SH!T, WE HAVE HAN AND LEIA BANTER! They are my OTP so I'm always gonna call a combative in love couple that, but this dynamic is MY JAM and I love that what we seem to have here is a clearly dominant male with a bratty female. I am in Heaven lol

logan feels himself chuckling, biting your lower lip. oh, he liked you.

WE DO TOO, LOGAN!

his hand travels upwards, finding purchase around your neck. you gasp in response, moaning. he eagerly swallows your moan with his mouth, drowning out any sound that threatens to escape.

Always a trip when I am personally attacked by a fic lmaoooooooooo

he kisses you like a man starved, like he'd devour you if you let him. and you would, you think, if it felt this good.

"shhh, shhh," he whispers against your lips, "feel good? i know it feels good, but you gotta stay nice and quiet."

I want to diiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiie at the giving of instructions and reminder that, HEY WE ARE IN PUBLIC but we are absolutely NOT stopping.

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

Excellent dirty taaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaalk

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

And he praises? *dies again*

"yeah i am," logan smirks, he knows he's big, and he knows exactly how to use it. you just have time to gasp before you feel one of his hands connect harshly with your skin, the sound ringing out in the small bathroom of the bar.

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

I once again must mention top tier dirty talk!

and fuck does it make him harder to know that you've thought about this just as much as he has.

Once again, Logan's vulnerability is illustrated here because it's very human and natural to WANT TO BE WANTED so that it's exciting for him makes all the sense.

he knows if he lets you look at him, look up at him for too long, he'll lose it. he can't have your soft eyes on him while he fucks you, he doesn't deserve it.

*shakes him* He's still so Logan. Trying to convince himself again he is just not worthy. But I also do this to myself which is no doubt why I key on it, mention it, react to it. That just means the author is striking a chord with me and isn't that what we want? To feel resonance and know we are not alone in our experiences?

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

It's a jarring feeling to be really into some hot smut and then have there be an intermission of this caliber. Cuz again, we are seeing into Logan's heart and his internal self who just screams and screams about not being worthy. And it's so painful and wretched for us as an audience cuz we KNOW it's not true and we just wish HE WOULD SEE IT.

you can't help but smirk, mouth stuck open as you moan softly, he likes it when you talk to him during, huh?

Even in her blissful state, she is noticing what he likes and trying to provide that for him and I love her for considering him and being thoughtful with him. HE doesn't think he deserves it, but we readers know that he absolutely does so it's sweetness in this midst of lust and shows us that she cares beyond whatever is happening now in this bathroom.

Y'all NEED to go read this cuz the smut is rough but because of the well established connection the author built between these two, it's very intimate despite the circumstances which don't necessarily lend themselves to anything other than a "quickie." Because of what's going on between these two and how well laid out that is for us, we know that the reason this is so rough and intimate is BECAUSE it's not meant for just here and now. But will Logan allow anything more?

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

And again, I love her for her thoughtfulness. She's being soft and tender with him. I'm not sure if it's a conscious effort to keep him from screwing things up (by trying to now brush her off) or if it's just naturally who she is and giving into her instinct to want to be gentle with him and keep him close. Either way, I love love love this moment.

". . . does that count as your tip for the night?" you joke with a smirk, hoping to see a flash of his smile again, hoping to alleviate some of that shame he's carrying.

Adore her for infusing humor into the situation and wanting to bring light back into his eyes. Whoever is going to be with Logan needs to have a sense of humor and give him as good as he gives.

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

Is Logan ACTUALLY going to give this thing a chance, and more importantly, HIMSELF a chance?!?!

I hate to quote too much in a story, especially an ending becuase I WANT PEOPLE TO GO READ FOR THEMSELVES but I need @silverskyeline to know that the last 3 paragraphs of this piece are SO FCKING GOOD.

The breakthrough and revelation he has, the tentative willingness to let himself release a burden and not self flagellate? OMGGGGGGGGGGG. Literally all the applause and bravo on this amazing piece. I really really fcking enjoyed it and am so grateful to you for creating and sharing.

It's really a wonderful character analysis or look at who Logan is, the person he think he has to be, with some hot smut that actually isn't a pause in the narrative but continues the throughline of exploring who he is and what he thinks he deserves and how he's giving himself permission to be a man again. I just ... I love this so so much. Thank you again.

'hunger' 18+

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

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

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

until he saw you.

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

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

but what he finds isn't a threat.

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

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

. . . but what harm can looking do?

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

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

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

he is an animal, after all.

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

fuck.

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

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

surely one bite couldn't hurt?

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

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

"oh, thought these were empty, sorry."

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

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

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

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

maybe.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"are you. . . is that-"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[cfthesoul]

"Did you really mean that? you don't love me?" / to anyone

𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈 𝐃𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐒 𝐎𝐅: 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐀𝐑, 𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐁𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓.

"i had to say what i had to say to make sure to keep you off their radar." part of being involved with a very known mafia meant that he always had an enemy by association. so when he was getting his ass beat while questions, yeah he had denied his feelings for the other. if only to protect nick.

[ofyearnings]

name: mateo sánchez. // age: early 30's. // gender: cis male. // pronouns: he/him. // occupation: baker & business owner. // romantic: panromantic. // sexual: pansexual. // position: switch. // faceclaim: taylor zakhar perez.

mateo sánchez, the convivial and dauntless proprietor of sinfully sweet bakery, has turned the traditionally perceived feminine realm of baking into his own artistry. from the mouthwatering allure of maple bacon donuts to the zesty kick of energy drink cupcakes, mateo's creations are a testament to his astuteness and creativity. with a string of competition victories under his apron, mateo has proven that baking is not just a job but an adventurous journey into decadent delights.

[gypsybelladonna]

tag drop for mateo castillo

[chrisgates]

TIMING: Within the past week LOCATION: Bearcliff Motel, Room 237 PARTIES: @chrisgates & @fearhims3lf SUMMARY: Mateo comes across Chris' delicious nightmare potential and decides to have some fun with him. Unfortunately, his meal is cut short when the wolf makes an appearance. WARNINGS: Parental death, sibling death, body horror, unsanitary

Mateo was never the type to let himself go hungry. In fact, many times, he overindulged, what with how often he went out in search of a meal. It wasn’t like he was always hungry, he just really enjoyed what he did. Conjuring up people’s deepest fears and secrets had been the most intriguing thing to Mateo since he finished school. His abilities presented him with so many new opportunities, granting him the chance to delve into someone’s psyche so his creativity could really shine. 

That late summer night was no different. Rob The Prez-O-Dent by That Handsome Devil thrummed through Mateo’s headphones, and he danced around, eyes closed and a smile on his face. He could feel the Astral form around him before the song’s final notes drifted away so he could open his eyes. The next song played, but Mateo busied himself with an array of potential meals he began to scour through.

“Oh, hello there.” Inhaling deeply, the mare shivered with anticipation, catching a brief glimpse of the possibilities, the hidden away fears this lovely man had in his mind. Monster, caging, dead parents… “Bingo.” Mateo muttered, slipping into the shadows of his prey’s room. The mare’s glowing red eyes looking akin to floating orbs in the darkness, hovering overhead the bed as the nightmare began. 

It began simply, everything going black for an instant before the man had a red spotlight burning onto him. Red fog puffed and plumed, circling around him like a predator ready to snap its teeth into flesh. A deep growl rumbled through the air, and a flash of glistening jowls peered through the mist. It was waiting. Mateo was waiting.

Every night when his head hit the pillow, Chris prayed for a dreamless sleep. Not a good sleep, a dreamless sleep. Nightmares plagued him and served to only fuel his tightly wound fear. Dreams would have been preferred if they, too, didn’t goad him with something he could neither have nor ever see again.

Dreams lied. They were a nice reprieve but that was it — a bandaid for the terror he’d endured, for the terror he still endured. So he preferred nothing. Chris wanted nothing more than to drop his head to the pillow and wake up, uneventful. He wanted to forget. He wanted to rest.

But his prayers went unanswered.

Chris found himself back in that cabin — a two bedroom, wooden shelter with a metal roof. It smelled of rain and dirt, but it was clean. The early afternoon light bled through the curtainless windows. There was no sign of life, not until the front door opened with a creak. The flash of long blonde hair and blue eyes appeared suddenly, a broken image conjured by the mind.

Darkness suddenly drowned out the obscured visage, interrupting entirely. That would have been fine with Chris, but it kept going. The spotlight was sudden — but it felt familiar. He was instantly reminded of the harsh beam from a police issued flashlight and the way it felt on his eyes. The black bled into red, like ink blots melding with each other in bath water. It surrounded him, adding to the glare and confusion, but the sound was what forced him to pause in his uncertainty.

It was just a dream. The spotlight caught the curve of fanged teeth. It was just a dream. The red leaked over wet, hungry chops. It was just a dream. It couldn’t hurt anymore. It wasn’t real. It was just a dream. Despite that mantra and unwavering stare, Chris felt himself take a step back.

A bar, a silver one, began to fall from the void overhead, plunging into the ground with an earth-shattering boom. The first of many. Mateo continued to hover, letting the fog plume and twist as a gnarly beast prowled quietly amongst the shadows. It growled, the sound prolonged and vicious. Drool dripping off of its jowls as hunger for flesh rose. 

Time to turn it up. The mare smiled. 

The air grew colder, and a haunting whisper echoed through the room, the sound leading Chris’s gaze to another looming creature in Mateo’s malevolent domain. They disappeared in a large puff of smoke, glowing red eyes the last thing to fade away. “Chris…!” A voice hissed behind him, pulling his attention away for only a moment. It hissed again as soon as he turned, and again, and again, and again, until Chris’s father suddenly appeared at his final turn. 

All voices ceased, a piercing silence filling the area as his father’s smile grew and grew. It turned into something frightening and evil. “Do you wanna see a trick?” Mateo had to bite back a laugh as he sent another silver rod down to put a barrier in the path that Chris tried to run down in. When he turned, his father towered over him, face uncomfortably close as he pressed his smile into Chris’s cheek.

Movement in his peripheral broke his concentration from the thing that lingered in the darkness. It came quickly, a flash of silver before its contact sound drowned everything else out. It took over everything; he could feel it in his bones. One, two, three, they kept coming. But the beast was still there despite the chaos happening around him. 

There was one thing that scared him more, though. More than the memory of canines that sunk deep into his flesh and tissue. More than prying eyes and booming noises — and he could hear him. At least, Chris thought he could. Nothing lingered longer than he wanted to, no, wait — no, he didn’t want it to. He wanted to curl up into a ball and pretend that none of this was happening. He couldn’t shake the voice, though. It felt like it was playing with him. Between the fickle fleeing, his heart pounded on, deafening.

Chris felt everything in him to run, to flee. Get out! Get out! And he tried, but to no avail. He wanted to wake up. He wanted to wake up and to feel the space in his bed and to hear nothing. But it only got worse. Oh god, it was so much worse.

He was there now. 

It felt like Chris’ heart stopped. Dread filled every corner of him, every little pocket it could find itself and commingled with the fear that lived there. It was just a dream, just a dream, a dream. He wasn’t there. He couldn’t be. He couldn’t hurt him anymore. No, he couldn’t. It was just a dream. Oh god, please it was just a dream. He just stood there — menacingly, and no, god no, Chris didn’t want to see a trick. He didn’t want to see any of it anymore. So he did the only thing he could think of: run. 

And like the last few times he tried, he was severely thwarted. Another metal bar crashed to the ground in front of him, much too close for comfort. The urge to escape became great, too great and suffocating, but Chris couldn’t move another inch. He could barely breathe. Suddenly frozen, he could do nothing but cower before the thing that looked like his father. He shoved his eyes shut when he felt the pressure on his cheek; he could feel its hot breath against his skin and the sob that choked him. It didn’t want to come out.

“S.. Stop..” His voice came out small, barely audible, as he stood quivering.

It didn’t matter what Chris wanted. It didn’t matter that his heart drummed wildly in his chest, thrashing against its cage. Mateo was hungry, the monster would be sated, and he’d be full. His smile grew even bigger, the delicious smell of fear sprinkling in the air. He growled hungrily, thrashing another rod into the ground. It landed in front of Chris, once again obstructing his path. 

“There’s no running away from this!” 

The voice rumbled like a distant thunder, a subterranean growl that resonated through the very ground Chris stood on. It sent tremors in its wake, splitting the ground. Mateo cackled, shaking the ground further as fear squeezed Chris tighter. No matter how hard he fought, the pressure increased, reminding him of the damage inside. 

Mateo felt like he was floating in euphoria, the nightmare growing increasingly chaotic. Red began to flash, the father returning with a vengeance the moment Chris turned to run again. No matter which direction he picked, his father would be there, and the scene would turn more and more gruesome. 

“Here comes the trick!” He yelled as blood ran down his chin, ripping his shirt open to reveal the shredded flesh beneath. He let out a blood-curdling scream, more family members shuffling in like zombies to do the very same. It was a dissonant symphony of terror, the final rods crashing in to bring the music to its climax and close the cage.

“Nowhere to run, murderer! Lookit! Lookit!” Mateo sneered as the father once more, body pressing against Chris’s until he was pushed against the silver cage. It burned, bubbling his skin all over. “The monster is burning you with it. Isn’t it beautiful?”

Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckpleasepleasepleasethisisn’trealthis isn’t real oh god, please, fuck! He wanted to scream but every turn only elicited a new fear, a gasp, a throat grab that only gripped tighter. Breath wouldn’t come and heart only pounded harder; he felt his head grow heavy as each new terror sidled up to him with the intent to truly traumatize. It was working. He thought he was going to die.

Chris’ lips hurried in a flurry of silent, breathy pleas but nothing actually came out. He kept trying to run from something that refused to let go. And when he woke up, he’d keep running. He wouldn’t learn, he wouldn’t feel brave or ready or whatever else they liked to call it. He didn’t think he ever would, truthfully. Maybe this was meant to be his eternal punishment, like Prometheus chained to the rock, forever to have his liver devoured while he remained awake, to feel the pain, to feel — everything. Maybe he wasn’t meant to escape it.

Burning tears pricked Chris’ eyes. They threatened to fall, he wouldn’t let them. Even now, choking on fear and terror with a man who was long since dead, he couldn’t. He couldn’t cry in front of his father, even when he knew he wasn’t real. 

The terror only grew and tears, though present, retreated and made way for the gruesome and distressing sight that morphed before him. There was so much blood, oh god, so much. Chris tried his hardest to grow the space between him and the horror, a natural instinct to see your family melt before your eyes, but his father was already there, already on him in a blink. “Stop! Please! Stop, stop it! Stop stop stop!” He screamed as he was pushed against the bars. The burning was incredible. White hot pain began in a flash and he could truly feel his skin bubble—

And then it was gone. The pain started to dissipate, but it didn’t disappear entirely. It was dulled, as if someone had used a cloth to diffuse a lightbulb. That cloth would soon catch aflame, but Chris suddenly found himself being pulled away. Not him, exactly. He was still there, between the decaying body of his father and the claustrophobic metal bars. But he also wasn’t? It felt like he drifted away, like he didn’t have a body. 

But he did — it was right there.

The energy in the nightmare shifted. He not only felt, he saw, his body contort as much as it could beneath the withering, oozing form that used to be dad. A hand reached out and blindly roughly grasped at his father’s shoulder; his fingers pushed into the burning flesh with mild resistance. A blackness started to creep in from the edge of Chris’ vision, threatening very much to suffocate his sight. The body that was his own did burn, but it also changed. It was a scene straight out of Carpenter's, The Thing; teeth grew sharp and poked out from the mouth, some missing completely and breaking straight through skin while thick, dirty blonde fur sprouted from between knuckles. 

On the surface, Chris’ body writhed against his mattress, his changing there matching the nightmare beneath.

The high that came with breathtaking fear was something Mateo knew he’d never get over, but what he created with Chris? He thought he was about to kill the man. His heart thudded in his chest harder than a sledgehammer plunging a rail spike into place. Was he really about to make a mare? Could werewolves become mares? Guess he’d find out soon. Mateo’s chest tightened at the idea, his mind trailing toward thoughts of his brother, or Junior. Is this how he felt? Was it overwhelming for him, too?

Chris gasped, ripping away the climax of death before it reached its apex. Of course, that happened. Getting edged wasn’t exactly in Mateo’s plan, but he supposed not having to find out whether or not he’d be a mare-dad was a positive thing. He didn’t have time to show anyone the ropes if Chris, could in fact, become like him. Turns out though, that hardly mattered anymore. Chris was thrashing against his mattress, growling like some feral beast, and Mateo took that as his cue to leave. 

“Thanks for the meal! Uh…don’t be a bad boy!” He waved his finger like he was some sort of pet owner getting onto their dog. A low blow? Probably. But Mateo didn’t care, and the smile on his face made that obvious. He rarely thought about the consequences. Why would he when he could snap his fingers and be somewhere else? This could only mean that the little werewolf problem he created would inevitably be someone else’s. “Deuces!” He offered his rocker gesture, disappearing just as a sharp set of claws swiped at Mateo, just barely missing him as he blinked away. 

Chris would have preferred to be the one who woke up. Instead he’d been pushed down into the dark, a reprieve from the nightmare that had quite the chokehold on him. He didn’t know that his body twisted into a mangled amalgamation of wolf and man or that there was something else in the room with him. 

The wolf that took over, effectively kicking Chris out of the pilot’s chair, could feel the disturbance. No one was supposed to be in the room — no one. That was why the ‘do not disturb’ sign was on the doorknob. No one was supposed to be in the room. The wolf growled an almost too human sound at the goading words. It thrashed among the twisted and torn bed sheets and lashed out with a still forming arm, hoping to reach the unwanted visitor.

It missed, which only served to irritate it further, and before it could retaliate, they were gone. The wolf howled within room 237’s walls, furious with being poked and prodded. The sound echoed throughout the motel. It tore through the mattress as it lumbered awkwardly off the bed and clambered through the one available window, breaking it, before disappearing into the night.

[thekotaroo]

Profiles of Pride: June 23rd!  🏳️‍🌈Carmen Carrera🏳️‍🌈

Carmen Carrera (born April 13, 1985) is an American reality television personality, model, burlesque performer, and actress, known for appearing on the third season of the Logo reality television series RuPaul's Drag Race, as well as its spin-off series RuPaul's Drag U. Carrera is a transgender woman and a transgender rights activist.

Carrera was born in Elmwood Park, New Jersey. In 2011, she appeared in the third season of the reality television competition show, RuPaul's Drag Race. Carrera is the second contestant in the history of the show (after season three castmate, Shangela) to rejoin the cast after being eliminated, and along with Raja, Manila Luzon, and Delta Work, was part of the clique known as the "Heathers", which took its name from the 1988 film, Heathers. In episode 10, "RuPaul-a-Palooza", Carrera was eliminated for her performance while lip-syncing to a reggae-inspired cover of RuPaul's song "Superstar". Judges Michelle Visage, Santino Rice, and Billy Brasfield voted to re-invite Carrera to the competition in episode 12, "Jocks in Frocks". Subsequently, Carrera was eliminated in that episode after styling a muscular male athlete in her own signature "nude"-style of drag.

Carrera has also been active in AIDS awareness and activism. After being featured in a Gilead Sciences ad titled "Red Ribbon Runway" with fellow Drag Race co-stars Manila Luzon, Delta Work, Shangela Laquifa Wadley, and Alexis Mateo, the dress she wore was auctioned by Logo in commemoration of World AIDS Day. Proceeds from the auction were donated to the National Association of People with AIDS.

On June 11, 2012, Carrera appeared in an episode of the TLC series Cake Boss, "Bar Mitzvah, Beads & Oh Baby!", in which she unknowingly participated in a prank involving "Cousin Anthony" Bellifemine, the cousin of "Cake Boss" Buddy Valastro, who was set up with a date with Carrera. The punchline of the joke had Valastro tell Bellifemine that "... that's a man, baby!" Carrera, however, originally agreed to appear on the program to promote equality for the transgender community, not aware that she would be involved in a joke. Following the airing of the program, Carrera rebuked the situation on Facebook:[

“By calling me a 'MAN' promotes ignorance and makes it ok to call transgender women, men. PEOPLE GET BULLIED, BEAT UP, AND KILLED FOR BEING TRANS BECAUSE OF THIS IGNORANCE! ... I made it VERY clear to the producers on how to use the correct wording before agreeing to filming this but instead they chose to poke fun and be disrespectful. That's not what Im [sic] about! ... I may not have been born a woman, but im [sic] NOT a man. I told them I wouldn't mind if they said 'born male' or 'was a male'. After taking this journey it's not fair at all to be lied to by the producers.”

Valastro subsequently apologized for the incident, saying:

“I owe an apology to the entire LGBT community. It was absolutely not my intention to upset or offend her, or anyone within the community, and I was wrong to use the words I did. I am a supporter of gay rights and equality, and while I regret this situation and my choice of words, I am thankful to have received this feedback and the opportunity to learn from this mistake. I hope that Carmen accepts my sincere regrets.”

In March 2014, Carrera openly criticized RuPaul for use of the pejorative "she-male" on a RuPaul's Drag Race episode. She continued to be critical of RuPaul when the issue arose again in 2015, after Logo pulled the "Female or SheMale" game from DragRace, which prompted RuPaul to defend the use of the word "tranny". Carrera's continued protests led to accusations by others that she was biting the hand that fed her. Carrera responded that, while she appreciates the opportunity to compete on DragRace, she ultimately earned her status through her efforts and those of her agent, friends, fans, and family, and that she was not beholden to support RuPaul's use of transphobic language.

Carrera was featured in the work of photographer David LaChapelle. She posed for a poster for Life Ball, which has two versions; each depicts her with different genitalia to represent the blurring of gender identity.

In 2014, Carrera was included as part of the Advocate's annual "40 under 40" list and made a cameo appearance on Jane the Virgin's premiere episode.

Also in 2014, Carrera was featured on the fifth anniversary cover of C☆NDY magazine along with thirteen other transgender women: Janet Mock, Laverne Cox, Geena Rocero, Isis King, Gisele Alicea, Leyna Ramous, Dina Marie, Nina Poon, Juliana Huxtable, Niki M'nray, Pêche Di, Carmen Xtravaganza and Yasmine Petty.

[viisiond]

The way I would honestly do anything for this man.

(X)

[writtenwillow]

↳ 𝗟𝗢𝗨𝗜𝗦 𝗣𝗜𝗤𝗨𝗘𝗧

𝗧𝗛𝗘𝗥𝗘'𝗦 𝗔 𝗦𝗜𝗖𝗞𝗡𝗘𝗦𝗦 𝗟𝗜𝗩𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗜𝗡𝗦𝗜𝗗𝗘 𝗢𝗙 𝗠𝗘, 𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗖𝗔𝗡 𝗦𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗘 𝗠𝗘 𝗔𝗟𝗟 𝗬𝗢𝗨𝗥 𝗦𝗬𝗠𝗣𝗔𝗧𝗛𝗬

NICKNAME(S) Lou, Luigi OCCUPATION Amateur Underground Fighter & Dealer AGE 21-28 , verse dependent DATE OF BIRTH & ZODIAC June 13th Gemini NATIONALITY Spanish GENDER & PRONOUNS Cis-Male & He/Him SEXUAL ORIENTATION Bisexual RELIGION Agnostic LANGUAGE(S) Spanish & English

tw. abuse, cheating, death, murder, child neglect, terrible parenting, unplanned pregnancy, abortion, addiction, drug use, overdose

Louis grew up in a toxic environment. His father was an abusive drunk and no matter how hard his mother tried she couldn't shield her children from that. Very quickly the boy took his fathers abuse as his burden to bare, purposely getting himself into trouble in order to protect his mother and little sister, assuming that if his father had a reason to be mad at him than he wouldn't have the time to find little things to be angry at them for.

Louis was introduced to the underground fighting scene at the age of fourteen. A fellow peer had caught a glimpse of the bruises and mistook it as a sign that the boy enjoyed the sport. He took him to a fight club that he was a part of and Louis instantly fell in love. Not because he enjoyed it but because he finally saw an out. If he could train eventually he could take on someone bigger than him... someone like his father and finally liberate his family from the mans clutches.

Sadly that chance never came. Instead mere days before Louis sixteenth birthday his father decided to take his mothers life after she finally worked up the nerve to take the children and leave him.

With their mother gone and their father in prison the kids were thrown into the system, not having any other family around to care for them. Isabella was adopted fairly quickly, however Louis found himself struggling to gain a permanent residence. Eventually he ran away from his group home, taking up residency with a few friends from the fight club.

He started dealing drugs and fighting just for survival. Eventually falling in love with an addict that he had been dealing to. He stayed with her for a few years. Although she was an addict it was the healthiest relationship that Louis had ever experienced. She taught him that you could truly allow yourself to open up to another person... she overdosed. Louis still wears the ring he planned on proposing with on a chain around his neck.

Since then Louis has become stone cold. He tends to use people for his own personal pleasure/gain. He's extremally protective of those he does allow into his life although that doesn't happen often as he prefers to keep most people at an arms length.

He currently lives in a rundown one bedroom apartment on the bad side of town. You would think with the money he makes fighting he would afford a better place but he currently is spending a large part of his salary supporting his sister and niece from the shadows.

Although he was born with his fathers last name Louis legally changed his last name to his mothers maiden name as soon as he turned eighteen.

𝗜 𝗖𝗔𝗡 𝗥𝗨𝗡, 𝗕𝗨𝗧 𝗜 𝗖𝗔𝗡'𝗧 𝗛𝗜𝗗𝗘 𝗙𝗥𝗢𝗠 𝗠𝗬 𝗙𝗔𝗠𝗜𝗟𝗬 𝗟𝗜𝗡𝗘

Joelle Piquet - Mother (deceased) Mateo Aguado - Father (deceased) Isabella Aguado - Younger Sister Birdie Jackson - Niece Madisyn Gardner - Ex-Fiancé (deceased)

|OPEN STARTERS| |PLAYLIST| |PINTREST| |VISAGE| |THREADS|

[incorrectblankrune]

How X der Zeit would perform at Panem’s Drag Race

(With Cearis aux Dogér as Ru Paul and Jason Bright as Michelle Visage)

Heliogab: Is a really fucking weirdo and imediatelly says that he will naturally win this show. Gets eliminated in the first episode.

Kaori: Looksqueen with an instagram following. Cannot sing and gets eliminated in episode two. She has to sing against Lighton and everyone agrees that Lighton should have gone)

Tilly: Is really good and can sow and act… but looses in the singing challenge after getting bad advice from Turis. She is mad as fuck. (Dont worry, she will win All Stars)

Turis: SO fucking shady! Acts like he is best friends with everybody and then gives bad advise. The group finds out and Turis gets eliminated because she's distracted with her own drama.

Caravel: Looks really good and has a sense of style… but lieterally all her clothes are in graytones! Gets challanged to add some colour and ads a „light beige“. Get’s eliminated.

Joule: Can serve some really good looks and is way too quiet for the drama. The show finds her boring and finds a convenient way to get rid of her

Elliot: Peagant Queen. Complains about everyone taking the competition not serious enough. „Nobody goes through as much pain as me!!“ (Mostly backpain) Does a lot of death drops and leaves at Snatch Game.

Sora: Talented queen and resident „big girl“ (even though she is only the one person not actively starving). Gets voted miss congeniality.

Lighton: Cannot sing, cannot dance, cannot act, cannot sow….. what can she do???? Nobody knows and everyone hopes for her to have an arc…. She doesn’t.

Tesla: Another classic peagant queen. Is in literally all of the drama and just peak entertainment. Nobody wants to be in a group challange with her. Master oft he emergency gymnastics and lipsynch assassin.

Glory: Just your standard peagant queen. She can serve looks, sing dance… is even really inspirational and talks about her journey a lot! She just lacks a specialty and it gets her out.

Acorn: Epitome of profecionallism and poise. Basically Chad Michels. Just cannot not look beautiful and has trouble eating a burger on camera. Plays Jason Bright at Snatch Game.

December: Literally the most shady person on planet earth. „We are not at Ru Paul’s Best Friend Race“. Everybody hates her but she literally makes it into the finaly, because she gets a very nice and thorough villain edit.

Diego: Wins

_________

Oxyll/Kester: The male judges nobody really cares about Fatima/Tiffany/Numina: Guest Judges Rhy: Old victor who appears in one episode and the finaly. Has some „playful banter“ with Cearis Cas/Prion: Get invited into Snatch Game Simon, Tave, Malachi, Mateo, Jakob and Phillip: The pit crew

[cfthesoul]

welcome to the club:

name: mateo cruz

private school street rat. mateo is smart. insanely smart when he wants to be and really good with numbers. he found himself on the streets from a young age. both his parents addicts who got evicted from every apartment they've lived in. grew up in a trap/crack house for a very long time until he started street fighting. what started simply as a way to release his anger and make some money, got him scouted by vincenzo. the mob boss liked his fighting style and once he realized how smart and good with money he was, vince made him basically the treasurer of his sex club and the mob. mateo had his own

name: riccardo 'ricky' lucciano

ricky is actually the nephew of vincenzo. his mother died when he was young and though vince was not directly involved in riccardo's upbringing; he was always around. when ricky turned 18 he asked vince to be involved with the mob, at least someone. right now he bartends at the clubs and tends to be the scout for new locations for clubs and for entertainment

[hidiingplace]

hey new picrew just dropped !!

[ofchaotics]

[mothafishas]

Petition for us to get to see the full and unedited lipsyncs instead of weird cut up versions with forced reactions and scowls from the judges.!!!! 

[thedeathculture]

Me: *has to be focused and productive*

My brain: HEY SIS it's christmas, you can cross me off of your wishlist 🎶