#or you're got paid to pick a side

[goyardgoyangi]

how street racer! sukuna curbs his road rage

You hear about the ticket before he even tells you.

Something about Sukuna yelling at a traffic officer after nearly sideswiping a sedan and cutting through two lanes without signaling. Classic. The guy’s a menace behind the wheel — fast, reckless, and pissed off 90% of the time.

He doesn’t tell you until a few days later, when you’re over at his place and he casually drops, “Got sent to court-mandated therapy.”

You look up from your phone. “Because of the ticket?”

He shrugs. “Road rage, technically.”

“Jesus, Sukuna. You threatened a cop.”

“Yeah, well. He looked stupid.”

You don’t push it. You know he’s got a short fuse — especially behind the wheel. And you’ve been in that passenger seat long enough to know he doesn’t exactly drive — he dominates.

But later, when you’re both in the car, he mentions it like it’s nothing. Like he’s telling you the weather.

“My therapist said I need a calming visual in the car,” he says, eyes on the road, voice bored.

You don’t think he’ll actually do it — take advice from a therapist, let alone that kind of advice. Not him. Not the guy who thinks calming down is for losers and once told you meditation was “just closing your eyes and lying to yourself.”

So you let it go.

But then, a few nights later during a grocery run — you're craving pad thai, planning to make it just so you can plate it on the vintage dish set he bought you during your last date, the one with the chipped gold trim you’d fawned over at the thrift market — you're wandering past the toy aisle when you say, “God, I love when guys have stupid little trinkets in their cars. It’s dumb, but so cute.”

You’re not even talking about him.

But Sukuna files it away like it’s scripture.

Later that week, when he’s alone and trying to be subtle about caring too much, he scours resell sites until he finds the exact two he wants. Doesn’t bother with the blind boxes — he doesn’t trust chance. Wants what he wants.

The bunny one reminds him of you — all soft eyes and twitchy moods, always flinching when he teases, always curling into him like a sleepy little thing once he’s fucked the fight out of you. You doze off in the passenger seat after, cheeks warm, head bobbing like a bunny nuzzling in for comfort while he drives to pick up your favorite post-sex takeout.

The peach? That one’s his favorite — a subtle reminder of what he likes to see when he’s behind you. The curve of your hips, the way you move when you’re lost in the moment.

He pays the ridiculous resale price and doesn’t even flinch. Rips the adhesive tabs from their packaging and sticks both to the back of his rearview mirror — one on each side — so they’re always in view when he drives.

A stupid little bunny.

A stupid little peach.

Both staring at him with plastic smiles.

You notice immediately, of course.

“You trying to copy me or what?” you tease, shoving your phone case with a cherry sonny angel. “Seriously though, why the hell do you have those?”

“They’re just there,” he mutters, tapping the wheel like it’s no big deal. “Came in a set or something.”

Sukuna isn’t the sentimental type. Not openly.

You narrow your eyes. “Sonny angels come in blind boxes. You sure these came together?”

He doesn’t say a word.

You lean in closer with a pout. “Kuna, did you paid resale prices? I thought you said my sonny angels were stupid.”

“They’re not stupid,” he snaps, before catching himself. “I mean. You said they were cute.”

You blink.

He won’t look at you, won’t explain more. But when you ask again, just to annoy him, he grumbles something about how you’re cute like a bunny and your ass looks like a peach and his therapist can go fuck herself but maybe she was onto something.

You nearly die laughing.

[writingadjacent]

Robin knows Steve well. She basically knows what and when Steve is going to do and say. Not to say that he doesn't have free will but... well... Robin knows.

He sat on her bed, his eyes staring at the ceiling and Robin very much knew that whatever he said next was either going to be really insane or very important. Robin paid attention, not that she wouldn't have anyway.

"Do you think men are hot?"

Robin looked over at him. Apparently, Steve had chosen insanity. "No. that's what being a lesbian means, Steven."

"No, I mean, like, even though you're not like... gonna kiss them, they're just, objectively hot," Steve said, his eyes glued to the ceiling.

"No?" Robin said, lying down next to Steve. He tilted his head to lean on her shoulder a bit. "Men just... look like men. I wouldn't find them hot or cute or whatever."

"Am I not cute?" Steve looked up at her with his big eyes, bugging them out like he does when he wants something from her. "Come on Rob-bob, am I not cute?"

She shrugged slightly, laughing and dodgeing when he tried to smack her pillow into her face. "God, yeah okay, you're cute, Steve. Tell me about the guy you found hot, though."

Steve laid back down, almost entirely ignoring her attempts at eye contact. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You wouldn't ask if you didn't find someone hot."

"Ugh," Steve said, hiding his head in his hands. "I didn't really... I mean, I guess I've always found guys hot-"

"Wait for real?" Robin asked, not judging, just interested.

"Yeah. And you know, I just thought all guys thought Tom Cruise was kind of hot and that Han Solo had really pretty hair. But then, I don't know, as I got older I realized they didn't and you know, I just didn't really want to deal with that..." Steve paused, his eyes on the ceiling as Robin rolled to curl into his side, her head on his shoulder. He brought his arm around her shoulder, bringing her closer to him.

"But then you met me?"

Steve nodded, "Yeah, basically. I guess I made my own way in the world and I stopped paying attention to what people thought of me and honestly, I just stopped paying attention to that part of myself for so long that I didn't notice it had come back until recently."

Robin nodded. That made sense. It was dumb but that made sense. "So which guy did you find hot enough recently for it to knock you back to yourself?"

Throwing his hand over his face, Steve muttered something that, despite her closeness to him, Robin had no idea what he'd said.

"What?"

"mmmmm Munson."

Robin blinked. She sat up and stared down at Steve. Blinked again.

"You know, you could absolutely have picked a worse guy but at the same time... Eddie?"

"He's kind of a loser."

"Yeah, very much so."

"It's really hot."

"You know what, Steve?"

"What?"

"You're allowed to think that..."

[lilianne-tarot]

PICK A CARD: Your Next Glow-Up You Didn't See Coming ♡ˎˊ˗

How to Pick Your Pile: Take a deep breath, clear your mind, and look at the images above. Which one pulls you in the most? Trust your gut! Once you choose the image, The number below your chosen image is your pile. If more than one catches your eye, that just means there’s extra tea for you, go ahead and read both!

If you enjoyed this reading, get your own personalized paid reading here!😊🦋

For personalized 18+ readings, click here!

My KO-FI link: HERE 🫶🏻

MY MASTERLIST🫶🏻

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　˚　.　　　　　 . ✦

── .✦ PILE I

Cards: Page of Pentacles, The Magician, The Hermit, and Two of Pentacles

OKAYYY BESTIE let’s get into it because this first pile is actually so powerful, like it's not playing small AT ALL. So sit down because this glow-up? It’s about to hit on ALL levels, mind, body, soul, wallet, like, every department is getting upgraded. Let's GO.

So first off, looking at these cards all together, the energy I’m getting is literally like I’m soft-launching my main character era" yk you see those people who are not actually on your radar, but all of a sudden they SOMEHOW start to glow extraordinarily? YES MY LOVLIES! YOU ARE GONNA BE THEM! Like, this isn't some "oh I just got a haircut and now I’m cute" type of glow-up (though, pop off if you do). Deep, real, long-term changes.

I’m getting this vibe that you’re about to step into this era where you’re focusing on YOU, not in a selfish way but in a hyper-focused, "lemme water my own garden first" way. The spread here is really telling me like, you’ve either been forced to take time out (maybe life got quiet for a reason), OR you’re about to realize you need to pull back from distractions, fake people, draining vibes, all of it. Because guess what? You're realizing you are the magician, meaning, you don’t need anyone’s permission, you don’t need the validation, and you DEFINITELY don’t need to be begging for scraps when you’re out here capable of building the whole damn table. Like??? HELLO???

Secondly, the spirit is also saying "we working on the bag now." But like, from scratch. Like planting seeds. You may start a new job, project, side hustle, or even just start managing your money smarter. If you've been thinking "I need to get my life together" this is your green light from the universe. You’re about to become that person who has their stuff together, budgeting, investing, learning skills, GROWING. Tt’s not giving "easy", like, you WILL be balancing a lot, and honestly, it might feel like a juggling act sometimes. But guess what? You can handle it. Your glow-up is learning to be THAT person who can multitask, who can handle their own business and still look good doing it. Like, in a few months, people are gonna be like "how did they get their life together so fast?" and you’ll just be smiling like, “oh, I was busy minding my business and working.” PERIOD. You’re gonna have this aura, this mix of "don’t mess with me" and "I’m wise beyond my years." Like, people are going to start coming to you for advice, asking how you did it, wanting to be around your energy because it feels... powerful but peaceful. Like you’ll be unbothered in a way that makes people nervous but also lowkey obsessed with you.

Also, I’m getting you’re learning how to work with the universe, like manifesting without forcing. You’ll be doing that chill manifestation, like "I just set my intentions and it came to me" not desperate energy, but aligned energy. This glow-up is very much "I attract, I don’t chase." Two of Pentacles and Hermit together is telling me... you need to take breaks, babe. Like, don’t let this “glow-up” become “burn-out.” You might feel like you have to hustle non-stop to get to where you want to be, but balance is key. Also, watch out for imposter syndrome Page of Pentacles + Magician says you’re stepping into a new version of yourself, and you might feel like "am I even qualified to be this person?" YES, YOU ARE. Even if you’re starting from scratch, you’re capable and worthy of everything you’re building.

So darling, if you picked this pile, your next glow-up is ICONIC. Like, people won’t even recognize you (in a good way). You're about to be AMAZING.

Liked the reading? get your own personalized super in-depth paid reading here!

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　˚　.　　　　　 . ✦

── .✦ PILE II

Cards Pulled: Ace of pentacles, The Empress, Wheel of fortune, The high priestess

THIS PILE???! the energy coming from this spread is actually INSANE. If you picked this, spirit is basically handing you the golden ticket to your ultimate glow-up, like, this isn’t just a little "I got my life together" moment. No.

YOU’RE BEING ELEVATED IN EVERY WAY POSSIBLE.

First of all, your aura?? It’s about to be UNTOUCHABLE. Like, people are going to look at you and just know something about you has changed. This isn’t just a surface-level glow-up, it’s a deep, soul-level shift. You’re about to embody THE Empress energy, meaning you’ll be glowing from within. You’re learning how to step into your soft power, that kind of energy that doesn’t have to chase, because it naturally attracts. This pile is giving ultimate divine feminine energy (regardless of gender) because you’re stepping into a place of receptivity, abundance, and ease. Instead of forcing things, they’re just flowing to you. And the best part? You’re actually ready to RECEIVE it now. This glow-up is about knowing your worth, not questioning it. Before, you may have struggled with self-doubt or over-giving, but now?? You’re the one sitting pretty, choosing who and what gets access to you.

MONEY. IS. COMING. Like, literal, tangible wealth. Stability. Security. If you’ve been waiting for a new job, a business idea to take off, or an unexpected financial opportunity, it’s happening. The Wheel of Fortune is literally spinning in your favor, so be ready to snatch up these blessings the SECOND they arrive. But here’s the thing: this isn’t just quick cash, this is generational wealth type energy. You’re about to start building something solid, something that lasts. And don’t even get me started on your overall energy shift around money. You’re moving out of that “I hope I get this” mindset and stepping into the “OF COURSE I’m getting this” mindset. DAMN. You are about to become so intuitive, so in tune with yourself, so UNBOTHERED by the outside world because you just KNOW things. Like, your intuition? Sharper than ever. You’ll be seeing through people like they’re glass, no one can hide their true intentions from you anymore.

The best part? You’re actually trusting yourself now. Before, you may have second-guessed your gut feelings, but after this glow-up? No more doubting. If something (or someone) feels off? You’re out. No explanation needed. Your boundaries are getting STRONGER, your standards are getting HIGHER, and your patience for BS is getting LOWER. And spiritually?? You’re leveling up FAST. If you’ve been working on manifesting something, just know it’s already on its way to you. Your energy is so magnetic right now, you don’t even have to do much, the universe is delivering.

This glow-up is your REWARD. The universe is literally saying: “You’ve done the work. You’ve been patient. Now, watch how everything finally falls into place for you.”

Babe, this is it. The glow-up you’ve been waiting for? It’s HERE. Get ready, because the universe is about to bless you in ways you never even saw coming.

Liked the reading? get your own personalized super in-depth paid reading here!

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　˚　.　　　　　 . ✦

── .✦ PILE III

Cards Pulled: 10 of wands, 3 of cups, 7 of swords and page of wands

First of all… BABY. Sit down 'cause this glow-up is not for the weak. Like, if you’ve been feeling like life’s been chewing you up and spitting you out lately, yeah, I see it baby, you are TIRED. Like, when’s the last time you actually relaxed without guilt? 'Cause you’ve been in this energy of "I have to do everything alone or nothing will move", and babe... let me be real with you, that era is about to END. Like, done. Period.

But here’s the tea, before we get to the glam part of this glow-up, the cards are giving me the realest real: you need to drop some sh*t you’ve been carrying. And I don’t mean just chores or tasks, I’m talking people who take and take and don’t give anything back. 'Cause with that 7 of Swords staring me down like 👀... there are people around you who are sneaky AF. Like, smiling in your face but pocketing your energy behind your back. And you KNOW this, don't you? Like your gut's been telling you but you've been brushing it off because you didn’t want to cause drama. Well... guess what? This glow-up is gonna be about stepping into your "main character who doesn't have time for snakes" era.

And oh honey, when you do that? BOOM, Page of Wands energy kicks in like I'm seeing you finding this spark again, like you suddenly wake up and remember, "Oh wait, I’m actually THAT person." Like, you start to dream again, you get ideas, you wanna dress up cute for no reason, maybe even change your hair, like full-on "watch me thrive" energy. And it’s not gonna be from nowhere, because 3 of Cups is here like "babe, we're about to party." Yes, like real friends, real connections. You might start surrounding yourself with people who actually hype you up, and you’ll realize that love and support don’t have to be begged for. And once that circle starts to shift? You’re gonna wonder why you didn’t do it sooner.

But okay, let's zoom out 'cause I'm not done. Sitting at the back of this whole spread is Ace of Pentacles, like a secret boss card. So let me tell you this: your glow-up isn’t just about feeling better emotionally (although YES you will), it’s also about money, stability, and opportunities. The universe is like, "Oh you finally cut off what’s been draining you? Here's a fat coin and an open door, love." Like fr, I'm hearing "new job offer," "new income stream," or even like moving somewhere better for your peace.

And get this, once you start choosing yourself, the glow-up starts snowballing. You’re walking lighter 'cause you dropped those wands, you're vibing higher 'cause your circle got real, and you’re out here looking like a snack with plans, not just vibes. But here’s what I’m feeling deeply: this glow-up is gonna be a slow burn, not one of those "overnight TikTok transformation" type of things (sorry bestie, I gotta keep it real). This is a "let me slowly rebuild myself in a way that lasts" glow-up. Something you’ll look back on in a year and be like, "DAMN, I really changed everything for the better."

Also, side note: the Page of Wands and Ace of Pentacles together, this might be a time where you’re about to start that side hustle, that creative project, that thing you’ve been scared to do 'cause "what if it doesn’t work out?" Well, guess what? The cards are like, "What if it DOES?"

So yeah pile 3, this isn’t just a glow-up. This is a rebirth. It’s giving phoenix rising from the ashes. It’s giving "new chapter, who dis?"And you deserve every bit of this new life.

Liked the reading? get your own personalized super in-depth paid reading here!

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　˚　.　　　　　 . ✦

Thank you so much for reading all the way through! I hope my reading resonated with you and that you had a lovely time going through it. If you enjoyed it, please like and reblog, it really means a lot! Let me know which pile you chose; I absolutely love hearing your thoughts and feedback on my readings! If my reading resonated you, you may consider buying my paid reading as it would really help me out financially♡

Note: tarot cards provide guidance and possible insights into what could happen based on current energies, thoughts, and actions. the cards can highlight potential paths or outcomes, but they do not fixedly predict the future. this is a general reading so take what resonates!

[ninikrumbs]

Kiss tax

Caleb x reader. Established relationship. Height difference. Slightly suggestive. Fluff. Love and deepspace

Caleb has always been supportive of you –whether it was new found hobbies or random competitions and contests that you happened to join on a whim, consequently dragging him into it. He didn't mind though. As long as it was with you.

So it was no surprise that Caleb supported your new reading habit. You were obsessed with books lately, with genres varying from fantays to romance. And now, it wasn't strange for Caleb to find you in a bookstore. You could browse books for hours on end. And of course he would be patiently waiting for you. Gazing fondly as he zoomed in on your focused eyes and pouty lips, indecision decorating your face.

Caleb often hold your books when the pile got too tall. And he'd spoil his favourite girl to no end as he paid for all of them no matter the amount.

But this didn't come for free though. Nope, you had to pay Caleb tax as he would say it. You rolled your eyes at first, thinking it was just some ridiculous joke. But then..

"Uh-uh, pip-squeak. You know the rules." He grins mischievously, holding the book over his head.

A few seconds ago, you had asked him to pick up a book on a much higher shelf. You should have known he’d have such evil plans behind those puppy dog eyes because now he's holding your book hostage.

Glaring at his stupidly tall frame, you whine, "Caleb! Stop playing around!"

He laughs as he watches you try to jump and reach for your book, crushing yourself against him. It only made him grin wider.

After a moment, he floats the book above his head eith his evol. Before you could complain some more he leans down and crowds you against the book shelf, hands on either side of you head. He smiles successfully like a predator who managed to trap his prey, "I'll give you the book, but you have to pay the tax."

Huffing in retaliaton, you look up at him, "You’re so childish."

Your comment doesn't seem to faze him, instead he merely smirks, "So what?"

When you didn't answer, he adds, "What'll be, pip-squeak?"

Pursing you lips, you look side to side to make sure no one was paying attention to the both of you. Luckily, you were covered by rows of bookshelves.

After a moment, you sigh as you stand on your toes, lips parted. Whispering against his mouth, "You win, dummy."

Your arms snakes around his neck, pulling him down to meet tou halfway as you close the disrance between your lips. He grins into the kiss, arms dropping to your back and waist, pulling you flush agaisnt him. You feel your cheeks heat up as Caleb kisses you deeper, lips moving slow yet pressing against you so intensely it makes your toes curl and somewhere in your nether regions, throb. His neediness felt in every push.You whimper against his lips, the sound making him groan in response.

A hard thud from beside you snaps you back into reality. The book that was floating above his head had falled down to the hard wood floor. You quickly push him away with you palms against his chest.

"Caleb, you're getting carried away!" You whisper-shout.

"Oops, my bad. Sorry." He sounded anythimg but. Especially with his heavy lidded eyes and satisfied smirk.

Its makes you groan, sliding hands down your face. "I swear, I can't take you anywhere."

He shrugs dramatically, as if everything was out of his hands, "What can we do? those are the rules, pips."

You gawk at him, "You made the rules! And at home you said it would only be a peck!"

Making a noncommittal noise, he pretends to think about it. "Hmm, did I?"

"You're shameless, you know that?"

The annoying grin that graces his face could rival the sun, "As long as it gets me what I want, I don't mind being shameless."

[potchi-fics]

note; trynna write stuff before being busy again

tw; nothing cus its just pure fluff

you whine to your girlfriend who looks like she’s tired of your shit, and is just trying to watch the tv with you on the couch,  “viiii, i told you i can pay for them myself.” 

“and i told you that i can pay for them myself, princess.” vi grumbles under you, adjusting your position so that you're sitting on her lap sideways. she presses a soft kiss on your shoulder, “and i love your nails.”

      when you two got together, she vowed to you that you won’t ever spend a dime, and she’s been trying to keep that vow. trying because you seem to always pick a fight with her every time she pays for something.

you knew that her life back then wasn’t always this easy, growing up in poverty isn’t a stranger to you, but you always felt a tad guilty when she paid for something. she must’ve noticed your train of thought because she bounced her knee, catching your attention.

a beat passes before you reply, you lean forward towards her, “you take good care of me, vi. i’m really grateful and thankful for you, but don’t you think that i shoul–”

“baby, we literally split the bill–”

“sometimes,” you roll your eyes, but you let your kiss connect with her cheek, wiping off the lipstick you left behind.

“wish that was never though. don’t feel bad, baby. i literally want to and insist on paying every time. i want to take care of you, of your needs, of your wants because i love you.” she pulls you closer, her strong arms encircling themselves around your waist, “i love you.”

      she is the epitome of contentment: a state of peace, satisfaction, and quiet happiness — not needing more, just at ease with what is.

she buries her head in your neck, nuzzling the top of her head under your chin. “i love you more.” your left-hand travels to grasp vi by the side of her neck, while the other one rests on her nape—your manicured nails softly scratching the back of her head, “got my nails painted red for you.”

“yeah?”

“yeah.”

[cherrygirlfriend]

── MANCHILD ♡

♡ pairing: situationship!rafe x reader

♡ summary: your situationship acts like a manchild.

♡ warnings / tags: dumb man!

♡ author's note: drinking the new celsius flavor! based on manchild by sabrina carpenter <3

RAFE MASTERLIST ♡

you laid in your best friend's bed, your brows furrowed as you stared at the 'read' mark under the message you'd sent to rafe.

do you wanna come over tonight?

read.

you locked your phone and grabbed one of elle's throw pillows, shoving your face into the soft faux-fur and letting out a muffled scream. elle chuckled, cocking her head to the side.

"is he ignoring you again?"

"no..." you mumbled, only for your best friend to raise her brows, telling you that she didn't believe anything you said, "alright, he's ignoring me again..." you sighed. elle walked over to the bed, sitting down right next to you, "i told you, you need to cut him off. he's just gonna keep stringing you along."

"he's just such a..."

"manchild?"

elle wasn't wrong; rafe always treated you like you were disposable, like you didn't really matter. your best friend poured vodka into two shot glasses, holding one out for you to take, "we're gonna have a blast tonight. and you're gonna stop thinking about that dickhead."

after taking a deep breath, you finally picked up the shot meant for you, and after clinking your small glasses together, you downed the liquid, doing your best to ignore the way it was burning your throat.

your head was already swimming with the force of alcohol when you got to the club, your body pretty much moving without your brain giving it any commands, but all that mattered to you was that you felt good. you weren't thinking about rafe, your phone buried in your purse...

but it felt like your heart stopped the moment you saw them.

rafe's arms were around a random girl's waist, his head nuzzling her shoulder, and you could picture what he was whispering into the girl's ear "god, you're gorgeous..." "i need you..." "you should come home with me but i need you..." all the words he said to you. when you were together, all rafe paid attention to was his computer. but now, all his attention was on the stranger.

you took in a deep breath, ignoring the girl who was practically glued to rafe, and made your way to him. you stood in his eye-line, your arms crossed; you felt an idiot to be openly jealous like this but if he was going to be a douche may as well out do the crazy game. the girl stiffened in her seat as she caught you in staring.

rafe pulled away from her the second his eyes met yours. recoiling from her touch, his eyes widening. the boy’s expression quickly turned arrogant, as usual, his brow quirking as he sized you up.

"hi there." you smiled, your grin so painfully big that it was borderline psychotic. "what are you doing here?" rafe asked through gritted teeth, a sickeningly sweet smile returning your lips.

"what? you didn't miss me? didn't want me to come here?" you cocked your head to the side, "last time i checked this was a public event. maybe you should've stayed home if you didn't want someone to see you."

neither of you noticed when the girl faded into the background, rafe being too busy staring daggers at you, "you said your phone was broken. i guess that was a lie." your words made rafe scoff, "god, you're stupid, and slow, and useless.. i can't believe i let you trap me."

"wasn't that hard. i think you'd give it up for a fly if it had a dick."

the smack you delivered onto rafe's cheek echoed around the club "i never wanna see you again." you stated before turning around and walking away.

only for you to make out with him in the men's bathroom an hour later.

TAGLIST: @raahosh, @nemesyaaa, @purpleplumpudding, @littlelamy, @dollyfiles, @esotericcangel, @mattyskies, @bakugouswaif, @nonietosay, @my-name-is-baby, @tinythebunni, @fratbrochrisgf, @ariieeesworld, @silkylovey, @izumis-salty-penis, @cameronsbabydoll, @love-ella333, @haylorbestie,

[kamospeach]

(any pics without tags are bc i didn't know who they belonged to!)

plot: sukuna gets injured, good thing you're always there to help

content warning: sukuna himself is a warning, mechanic + boxer sukuna, because they're the same in my head

dean's (aka peachy) yap: broke mechanic rising boxer sukuna makes so much sense to me also makes more sense after watch Isi and Ossi on Netflix.

days like these were rare. it was so rare that when it happened, nobody knew what to do. it started like every other friday night. sukuna was warming up in the ring for his fight in the next hour and a half. you sat on the stool, legs crossed, watching his fluid movements. 

“you'd better not mess up his face!” you yelled to the other boxer he was practicing with. one thing about sukuna, he hated to get hurt because when he did, you were at his beck and call. he hated being waited on, especially by you. you were overprotective and wouldn’t let him step outside if injured. 

“please, he couldn’t even land a hit on me even if he tried! no one could.” but he was wrong, terribly wrong. because that’s how he ended up sitting on the nurse's bed as you stood between his legs, patching up the long scar under his eye. 

“so tell me what happened, ryomen,” you tell him, and he smirks, looking down at your frustrated state. he loved the way your brows furrowed when you took care of him. 

“was fightin’, you were there, you saw it.” he huffed, and you gave him a look that said ‘you know what i mean’. “fine. i took my eyes off of him for a second.”

“ryomen.” you gave him a look to explain further. it was like sukuna to tell half the story to avoid being scolded. “if you tell me what really happened, i’ll have your back when you talk to coach yaga,” you offered, and apparently, he was a fan of that deal.

“i was tryna make sure someone was watchin’, that’s all.” he shrugged as if that was nothing. he knows better than to be looking at the crowd when he’s fighting. “she was looking, so that’s all that mattered.”

“no, it’s not, you’re hurt, sukuna, that’s what matters,” you said, walking over to the ice bin to fill a bag of ice for him. he stood behind you a little closer than usual, but you didn’t even notice.

“it’s fine if i get hurt, you’ll be there to take care of me,” he said, and it almost sounded like his voice was softer, maybe even caring. yet you didn’t notice that either, but sukuna sure did and cleared his throat to hide the embarrassment. “at least you better be, since this is your job and it’s what you're getting paid for.” his voice was back, monotone and demanding.

“not by you, by the school, so you better watch that tone of yours,” you playfully said back, and it surprised sukuna how you heard the bad attitude in his voice, but never the times when he got ‘soft’. he grabbed your chin, squeezing your cheeks, making your kissable lips form into a pout.

“you’re getting too bold, brat,” he said, and you rolled your eyes at his nickname for you, that he never retired even after 4 years. you placed the bag of ice on his scar, which was slowly starting to swell. 

“what girl were you looking for?” you asked, cleaning up the athletic room while sukuna followed you around like a lost puppy. 

“someone,” he cleared his throat, and you snorted at him, trying to be secretive. “wanted to make sure she saw me knock him out.”

“and then you didn’t. tell her to come to the next fight,” you tell him as you pack your bag, getting ready for the night. he was silent; you paid it no mind since he was usually quiet anyway. 

“she’ll be there, she comes to all of them,” he tells you. you nod, picking up your bag, and sukuna grabs it out of your hand, slinging it over his shoulder. you locked up the door as the two of you walked to his car. he usually took you home on days he had fights, so this was routine.

“you workin’ tomorrow?” you asked, and he nodded, sighing, opening the passenger door for you and going to the driver's side.

“‘course i’m working, money don’t grow on trees,” he says clearly, not looking forward to going to work. “can’t wait til i go pro, i won’t have to worry about working on rich asshole’s car.” 

“but then you won’t be able to fix my car,” you pout, and he looked at you with a lopsided smile. whenever he gave you that smile, it almost made you see him in a different light. you loved his smile, it was like a rainbow: you don't get to see it often, but when you do, you appreciate it deeply.

“i’d still fix your car after i go pro, ma,” he said, and you scoffed, not believing a word he was saying.

“you’ll be too busy for me then, you probably won’t even remember me,” you say, and it hits you that he may not want to be bothered with you. you would call sukuna one of your best friends or even your best friend. he was one of the first people you met in your freshman year, so he meant a lot to you. 

you both spent a lot of time together outside of practices and matches. you’d frequently visit him at work, sitting in his manager’s office. who just so happened to be the father of a mutual friend of sukuna and yours. or you’d spent time in his dorm watching his film, even helping him notice where he went wrong.

sukuna had become a big person in your everyday life. after classes, you’d be sitting next to the ring, patching up his cut knuckles when he was done. and hopping in his car after so the two of you could get dinner and go home. it was a simple routine, but it was all you knew.

“won’t remember you? every time i get hurt, all i’ll think about is you.” he scoffed, offended that you thought you meant so little to him. “shit i might even hire you.” 

“what?!” you said, shocked, and he parked the car, turning to look at you.

“you’d like that, huh? getting to fix me up even after college.” you looked at sukuna, and you weren’t even sure what you were feeling. you almost felt as if you liked him, but you knew that wasn’t possible. maybe it was just joy that he appreciated you that much.

“‘course i would, i’d get to yell at you for getting hurt forever.” you smile, grabbing your things to leave the car. “i’ll bring you lunch tomorrow after i go see my parents. i asked them to make extra for you and your coworkers.”

“tell your fine ass mom i said-” you cut him off by slamming the door shut and he rolled down the window laughing at your disgusted expression. 

“good night, sukuna! i won’t be telling her nothin’,” you said, walking to the front door of your apartment.

⁺₊⋆ 𖤓 ⋆⁺₊

“you going to see sukuna after you leave here?” your mother asked as you got in the car. she knew where you were going; she just wanted a reason to say that you and sukuna should go together.

“to drop this food off, yes, he’s been working since 6 am.” you say as a smirk spreads across her face, ready to taunt you about it.

“you know, the two of you should date. he cares about you, and you must care about him too since you invited us to his championship fight.” she smirks, and you chuckle at the predictability of your mother. 

“no thanks, ryomen’s mean and angry all the time. i can’t take that,” you said truthfully, sometimes his mean and brooding attitude scared you. 

sure, he was a great-looking guy, and he was built like a greek god. and just maybe he was really good at fighting, and he always stood up for you. and he always took you home, and he never let anyone touch him except you. and maybe he never made you drive anywhere if he was going too.

“maybe that’ll be good for you so you can stop being a pushover,” your mom said with a shrug, snapping you out of your thoughts. she started walking towards the house, turning around to say one last thing. “your dad likes him, too! but anyway, see you soon!” she gave her usual smug smile, knowing your dad was trying to marry you off.

you laughed driving to the car shop where sukuna worked. your parents weren’t fond of any man you brought around. they always compared them to sukuna since when he came he was a big suck up. 

he offered to help your dad fix his old school car, and cleaned all the dishes by himself once dinner was done. refusing to let your mom touch a thing, had you been at your apartment, he’d make you do it all alone.

not to mention, one time in his dorm, he instructed you to grab him a beer. of course, you told him no, and he went and got it himself. sukuna wasn’t the sweetheart your parents thought he was, and you knew that better than anyone else.

“finally, you’re here, woman,” he huffed, opening your car door and leaning on it. because your mom used her voodoo magic on you (not really), you’re currently finding him oddly attractive. not a lot, just a little, because he’s all roughed up and sweaty and manly looking. 

his hair was disheveled, and sweat was still on his forehead. the overalls were now wrapped around his waist, and his wife-beater was stained with oil. that cocky smirk was on his face again and he looked at you expectedly.

“you’re lucky i didn’t let your ass starve.” you scoff getting out of the car and he closed the door for you. he followed behind you as you walked into the shop. sukuna's eyes were wandering to your ass, he didn’t want them to but they did. the little shorts that you wore left nothing to the imagination, and to be honest, sukuna was loving it.

“your shorts are small,” was all he could figure to say, and you laughed, turning around to look at the shorts with a shrug.

“i thought they were cute, you don’t like 'em kuna?” you asked, looking up at him, and he wanted to take you right then and there. but he had to remind himself he’s at work and you guys are best friends. 

“i never said i didn’t like them,” he mumbled, pulling on the belt loop that snatched you back. you gave him a nasty glare, but he was looking down at you like you were a full-course meal. you paid him no mind, continuing your walk to his manager’s office.

once both of you entered, you handed over the bag full of food for everyone. your mom made you help her cook a lot since you told her that sometimes you stop by and bring them lunch. unfortunately for you, your mom’s voodoo magic (again, not really) infested the men who worked with sukuna. 

“you sure you don’t want to marry her man? we’ll be eating good every day,” he said, and sukuna scoffed, stuffing his face with food.

“she didn't even make this, her mom did,” he said, and you hit his arm, giving him a death glare.

“i helped cook it, and actually, i made yours all by myself,” you bragged, but it only made your situation ten times worse. because the men thought it was cute how you made sure you were the one to make sukuna’s food.

you were getting tired of the nagging and were soon ready to leave. sukuna noticed immediately and told everyone you’d be back another day before leading you to your car. it was going on 3, meaning his shift would be over in the next hour and a half.

“i’ll come see you later, okay?” he said, opening the door for you, and you shrugged. he usually came over after he got off work to hang out anyway, but today it felt different.

“you don’t have to if you don’t want, i’ll probably end up just taking a nap anyway,” you tell him, getting in the car.

“stay awake, i’ll be there at 5,” he says, not leaving any room for discussion. he closed your car door and walked away, not even bothering to say bye.

“the nerve of him,” you mumbled to yourself as you drove to your apartment.

to be continued...

one two three four five six

university masterlist

taglist (open):

@grignardsreagent @stardollwrites @keraawrites @soldmysoulto @k-a-m232 @ac27dj @buttershea07 @charminstasia @ane5e @satorupied @miksolosss @nanamisbbygirl @beabamboo @sweetshrew @gurllss @rhicambo @v3rdee @vamppirez @y8zuriha @probablynotleahhhh @snapcracklen @emma-37 @thabiddie23 @sunset-euphoria @ami-s-k @angelita-uchiha @antikaiii @meganwiththebody @certifiedchangbinlover @desirehorizon @meowshiki @cypherthecreator @p1nkfl0wers @emoedgylord @kpopslur @palestrawberrycollection

[entitled-fangirl]

Spitfire.

Harry Castillo x reader

Summary: Harry decides he needs someone with more personality. When the band for his next gala quits unexpectedly, Lucy has a connection to a singer for him. A good one. One that's a little spitfire.

Warnings: cursing, sexual tension and remarks, SPOILERS to Materialists

Masterlist

.................................................................

“How’d the date go with Brenda?” 

Harry stared at Lucy, mouth opening and closing a few times. “Honestly, Lucy? I think this whole matchmaking thing isn’t working like I thought.”

Lucy frowned. “Why? Every thing about her was perfect for you. What did I miss?”

“She just… had no personality.”

“You didn’t specify that in your non-negotiables.”

“I know. It’s not anything you did. It’s just,” he sighs, rubbing at his forehead, “I have too much going on at work. How about we pause the dates until I get everything settled?”

Lucy nods. “Of course.” She writes something down before pausing. “Even with our past and all, I hope you know you can tell me stuff. Confide in me. As a friend. Or an employee. Whatever is easiest.”

He considers it, then almost denies it. But there’s some pull that is forcing the words out. He leans back in his chair. “Alright.” He takes a long drink. "I love my brother. I do. But with him being a newlywed, I'm picking up the slack at the business. Tonight is this big gala we're hosting. The band quit at the last minute, I don't have a date-"

"-Oh. I can help with that."

"Lucy," he warns. "I don't need a date."

"No, no. I meant the other thing. The one before that. The band." At his confused expression, she tore the corner of a paper and began writing. "A friend of mine sings on the weekends at the lounge down the street."

He leans forward curiously. "Which one?"

"Mountainside lounge."

"Oh. She any good?"

"Well, Harry. I wouldn't suggest her if she made my ears bleed, now would I? I will warn you. She's got… a lot of personality.

He takes the torn paper like it's gold. "Thank you. I fear I owe you one."

"Maybe just one more date? I got this really beautiful woman-"

"-Alright. Bye, Lucy." He stands, exiting the restaurant with more pep in his step.

The paper between his fingers weighs on him. An email address. Interesting.

…

You reread the email with a puzzled brow. Lucy really suggested you to this guy? To the Castillos? 

It's professional, but you can sense the desperation in his secretary's tone. Usually, you'd decline. But something about it has you replying back.

Within minutes, they gets back to you.

And you're set to sing on Saturday. You frantically call your accompanist. When they say they can't make it, you managed to get your roommate to do it. She's far too good at the piano anyway to not use that skill anywhere.

…

You set up without seeing a single Castillo. Only the wait staff and the planning committee. They help you as much as you need. It was kind, but you were hoping to at least see the guy that hired you before the party.

You had put way too much thought into your outfit, just like you always do. Singing at the lounge on the weekends paid for a few fancy dresses. Ones way out of your price range. You use that to your advantage a lot.

Like tonight.

You present yourself like you're one of the most esteemed singers in NYC. In reality, you and your roommate barely make ends meet.

But for tonight, you can live it up a little.

It was like every other joint you've sang at. Men ogle you a bit too much. The women give forced claps after a few songs. You're used to the steady routine. 

Half way through the night, you take a small break. You giggle to the side with your roommate turned accompanist until a voice breaks the conversation. "Excuse me, I was hoping to get your ladies a drink."

You pause, lip tight at you stare at your roommate. Another one of those pervy guys hoping to take you home.

But when you turn to look at him, you don't get that vibe at all.

His eyes are far too kind.

"Oh. I can't drink," you nod, "bad for the voice."

"Oh, I'd definitely take a drink," your roommate interrupts. 

The man grins and nods. "I can do that." His eyes set back on you. "Water then for you?"

"Yeah. Warm."

His eyes stay on you a little too long before he turns back to the crowd, disappearing to get those said drinks.

"He's fine as hell," your roommate teases. "If you don't fuck him, I will."

"Oh my god," you whisper-yell. "Keep it in your pants. We're working."

"You're working. I'm pitching in a favor from last Monday."

Last Monday. A sleazy bar fight started by someone getting a little too close to your roommate and you were the only one that did something about it. You're still sporting a wide bruise on your leg from getting knocked down.

"You don't owe me anything for that. C'mon."

"Well, no one else did anything until you fucking absorbed the first hit-"

"Okay. Stop. We'll talk about this later. Just… be professional for a few more hours?"

She sighs. "Fine."

In perfect timing, a tall glass on warm water is sat on the piano in front of you. You can feel him behind you, tie barely brushing your back before he's away from you once again. 

"- and I got you a bit of champagne. Hope that wasn't a bad choice."

Your roommate takes it with greedy hands. "It's perfect. Thank you, Mr…"

"Harry. Harry Castillo."

You freeze, shoulders tightening. "Oh," you push out. "You're Lucy's… friend."

He seems to stiffen up too. "Yeah. Something like that."

"I only meant… you're the one that hired me?"

He relaxes at that, turning on the facade again. "Exactly so. She had good things to say about you."

"I think you were just desperate for a singer."

He laughs. "Maybe so. But you weren't a bad choice in any sense."

You lean against the piano. "I've been told I'm often a bad choice."

His brows raise. "Well, certainly not about your voice." He takes a moment to look at his shoes, recalling a thought. "Lucy did tell me you were a spitfire, though."

"She said that?"

He laughs and nods, content to get a little reaction out of you. "You disagree?"

You consider his words, fighting back and forth with yourself. Professionally, you were calm, cool and collected. Outside of work? A bull in a china closet. "'M not sure."

He keeps a subtle grin on his lips, puppy dog eyes trained on you. "You seem pretty tame."

You can feel the arousal work it's way down your spine to between your legs. 

And with that, he taps the piano lightly like a send-off. "I'll enjoy hearing you the rest of the night, little songbird." And he steps away, businessman facade turned on high as he grins and shakes a man's hand like he hadn't turned your world on its side.

Your head slowly turns to your roommate, whose eyes are trained on the sheet music in front of her. 'Holy fuck,' she mouths, not having the courage to look at you after that.

You exhale, unsure of what to think. He's far too charming, alarmingly so. And yet here without a date. It's odd.

You take a little longer than you should've to collect yourself before beginning the second half of the night.

You know Harry's eyes are on you.

…

As the event comes to a close, you decide to pack up early. You have a busy day tomorrow and your voice needs to rest. 

You help your roommate pack the sheet music carefully, preparing yourself to say forced goodbyes and shake a few hands. 

You can feel Harry's presence before he even says a word. 

"The songbird has a bedtime," you start first, not bothering to look up at him.

God, you know he's grinning. "Good. A songbird needs beauty rest. I can't see how looking so… radiant wouldn't require hours of sleep."

You hum, finishing up. But he catches your arm and places a piece of paper in your hand. 

You pause, finally turning your head to see him watching you like you're an addiction he has a craving for.

And your eyes dart to the paper, seeing it as a folded check. "Mr. Castillo, you already paid-"

"I know. Think of it as a tip. Tonight was wonderful and you made it so."

Your head tilts, eyes flashing with something. "You trying to tame me, Mr. Castillo?"

"No," he whispers, inching a bit closer, "No, I wouldn't dare." He takes a moment, decided where his bravery lies. Then, he closes the distance, kissing your cheekbone and then kissing your hand. "Goodnight."

…

The poor taxi driver. Your roommate could not contain her excitement. "He was like ALL over you! GOD the gorgeous babies that man would make with you! Please tell me you got his number!"

"No," you scoff. "I was working. This was all work related."

"Nothing about that man's eyes screamed work related."

…

The next day, there's a bit of a headache you're nursing. You're not sure why. Maybe a lack of sleep. Maybe the stress of the day before. But you stumble into the kitchen and start making the same shitty breakfast you always have. 

"Oh yeah, I said I'd split that job with you from last night," you remind your roommate. 

She laid across the couch, seemingly in the same mental position as you. Hand over her forehead. "Don't worry about it. Just buy me a couple drinks next time we're out."

You hum. "Well, I even got a tip. How about I at least split that with you?"

She sits up a bit. "How much?"

You shrug. "Haven't looked."

She's already darting for your coat pocket where you left it last night. She scrambles, pulling it out and unfolding it. You see her eyes open wide. "Holy shit."

"What?"

Her eyes just stay on the page. "Like Holy shit."

"Oh my god, just-" you round the counter, peering over her shoulder at it. Then it's your turn to gawk. "Fuck."

You're dialing the number at the top left of the check quickly, spatula in one hand as you nurse your scrambled eggs, phone in the other. 

"You've reached Castillo Enterprises. How may I help you today?"

"Uh, yeah. Hi. I need to talk to Harry Castillo."

"Oh. Well, is this a matter of canceling an appointment or meeting?"

"No. I need to speak to him about a matter-"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Castillo is a busy man. Shall I take a message?"

"No. No. I'll just… forget it. Thank you."

You drop your phone on the counter, eyes trained on the pan on the stove. 

The odds of a busy man like him calling you back is far too slim. There was no point in leaving a message. 

No. You learned years ago that most things can just be taken care of in person.

So you finish your breakfast, rushing to look decently professional before getting in your car. 

…

Castillo Enterprises is a huge fucking building. One you can't see the top of when you're standing in front of it. 

It's all glass, and you see your reflection staring back. You're far from what you looked like last night, but you'd at least managed to slap a little makeup on before you left. 

Clutching your purse, you take a deep breath and step inside. 

You go to the first desk you see, the one placed in the middle of the room for lost souls like yourself. "Hi, I'm here to see Harry Castillo?"

The secretary is a young girl, one who clearly hates confrontation. "34th story. Elevators are that way."

So off you are again, check weighing heavily in your purse. 

You stumble your way around to another desk. A secretary you recognize the voice of. You know you're getting closer since she's the one you spoke on the phone to. "Hi-"

"-You're the woman on the phone," she acknowledges. "As I said before, Mr. Castillo is very busy. He can't see you today."

"I know that but I just need to return a check that was written to me."

Her eyes suddenly widen with realization. "You're the singer from the gala. Sorry, but we can't accept that check back."

"Why not? There's nothing wrong with it."

"Mr. Castillo told me not to accept a returning check from you if you were to come in today."

You gawk for a moment before you get angry. "You know what? Where the fuck is he?"

"As I said before-"

"No. Where is he right now?"

There's a silent standoff that's broken as quickly as it starts. "Cathy, get the Westons a meeting with me t-" Harry pauses, eyes set on you. "Hi," he breathes. 

You scoff. "Ten thousand dollars? Are you fucking serious?"

His face falls, confusing written clearly over it. "What do you m-"

"Don't!" You growl. You dig the check out of her purse, holding it out between two fingers. "Take it back."

He recoils from it like it's poisonous, hands up. "I already gave it to you."

"Really? The fuck are you trying to do, be my sugar daddy? You don't even know my fucking name."

There's a moment where he looks around, a bit embarrassed to be making such a scene at his work. But another part of him doesn't care. His main focus is the woman in front of him. His voice is careful and calculated. "I was only trying to appreciate a songbird. Forgive me if I was too forward. But please, accept it this once."

"For what?"

"Hm?"

Your eyes take in his dark blue suit, tailored just perfectly for him. "What… what do you want me to do? What are you paying me for?"

He frowns. "What? No. It's just… spending money. For you. I… I was doing something nice."

"No one is that nice."

He pauses. "God, you really are friends with Lucy, aren't you?"

"The fuck does that mean, Castillo?"

"Means you're untrusting! Just take the check."

"No," you push, holding it out again. "I don't want it."

When he recoils again, you take it back, holding it with both hands now. "I'll fucking tear it up all over this office floor."

He shrugs. "Fine. I'll mail you another by the end of the day."

"Fuck you."

He laughs. Actually laughs at that. "Consider me charity and I'm asking a favor of you."

You pause. 

"Just listen to my proposal. Accept the money-"

You scoff.

His head tilts. "- or go on a date with me."

The paper in your hands suddenly feel much heavier than it was before. 

At your pause, he shrugs. "Or do both."

"No," you scoff. "No. That is ridiculous."

"What's ridiculous about that?"

"I'm making a scene in the middle of the richest enterprise in New York in front of the richest man in New York, and you're asking me on a date?"

He nods. 

"What the hell is wrong with you?" You ask genuinely.

He shrugs. "I'm all business. I need a little more liveliness in my life."

"And you think I'd do that for you?"

"You already have."

You consider all of it. Your voice calms, "You can't tame me, you know."

He nods, "I would never try to."

And with that, you begin to tear the check into little pieces. The rug catches them, the dark gray contrasting with the little white papers. And he watches. Not the peices fall. But you.

You pull the strap of your purse higher on your shoulder and storm your way past him, content with your victory. 

But you pause, huffing as you turn and kiss him on the cheek. "Pick me up at 8."

He listens to your shoes against the expensive tile until you're gone.

"Yes ma'am," he whispers to himself.

................................................................

[kermdoeswriting]

"That'll be 1k, please."

The words leave Valeries mouth faster than her actual brain can catch up with. She can hear Sam, Tucker and Danny dying in the distance, with Danny losing the most air from the sound of his squeaking.

She can also hear the sound of something exploding on the other side of her, car alarms ringing in a horrible unified chorus to show that the alien invasion that she just helped defeat had actually happened.

Despite all of this, Valerie doesn't hesitate to stick her hand out to the dark red, tall, mysterious biker wannabe staring down at her like she had just grown 3 heads.

The two stare at each other for another minute in silence before Valerie flexed her hand at the guy for a 3rd time. All this to wake him up from whatever trance he was in.

"You're not getting money from me, kid." Wannabe biker sighed exasperated, his very obvious half assed hero gear making his voice crackle.

Valerie only put her hands on her hips in defiance at that response.

"I literally just helped you defeat aliens!"

He didn't scoff, but from his body language, he really didn't need to do it physically to show how he felt about that.

"Didn't need your help -" Biker guy deflected almost immediately, looking away from her and back onto the Amity Park streets

Valerie followed his gaze over to the side of the street. She remembered picking up and throwing an alien towards space from her hover board there moments before, and the memory of doing so only made her look back at him pointedly.

Biker guy just shook his head.

From behind her, Valerie could hear the faint scrapes of doc marten boots hitting the pavement to join her in her quest to get paid for the damage she'd done.

"I don't know man, kinda looked like you did from how that bus almost trampled you when thrown at you" Valerie grinned as she felt Sam lean her head ontop of hers, looking over at the biker guy with a grin.

She heard the gravel next to her kick closer as Tucker and eventually Danny joined them where she was standing.

"They've got a point," Tucker snorted, leaning on her left side while Danny hummed on her right.

The 5 of them stared at each other again in silence before Valerie broke it for the 2nd time with the same trick she had done.

"So," She smiled, eyes never leaving wannabe biker guys face as she brought her hand back out to gesture at giving her money she was rightfully owed.

"1k?"

[bigsisdreams]

You and your little sister were never really affectionate with each other until after you transitioned. Infrequent "take care"s and "I love you"s turned into tight hugs, her pulling you closer all the time and having long conversations on family meetings. Of course, you feel happy being able to openly express those emotions, she's such a sweet child.

The problem is, you can't help but feel self conscious when she drinks a bit too much and starts putting her hand on your thighs over your dress. You can't avoid feeling aroused when she starts being a bit too touchy, pulling you close, hugging you all the time, even giving you kisses on the cheek. Like, that's normal sibling stuff, right? At least for some siblings? Maybe, so you start feeling like a perverted lesbian for getting all fluffy about it.

Today's just another family meeting, and before anxiety starts pulling you in, you decide to calm yourself by drinking the worries away. You don't intend to get drunk, but your sister (who is now sitting by your side) seems to have the exact opposite idea.

It's fine, you do some small talk with your parents and some cousins that you don't even know the name of, and in between, you take your phone to check the still empty chat inbox, while you try to avoid doomscrolling or opening Tumblr (the chances of a porn bot appearing on your timeline not being zero). Whatever, you just share some cat memes on your socials and—

Silence. Your lap suddenly feels cold and wet. You realize your sister has spilled a glass of beer over your dress. You look at her face, she's in shock, so it was clearly by accident.

— I'M SO SORRY — She says as she takes some napkins and starts patting your dress. The rest of your family starts talking over each other.

— N-No, it's okay, it was an accident — You are now patting your dress as well — See? It will be dry in no time

— I'm really sorry, I should have paid more attention — She's still patting the wet fabric, pulling your dress up to dry your tights.

Is she aware of what she's doing? You guess she isn't, and good thing your family has moved onto other stuff else you fear they'd realize how flustered you're feeling right now. You finish up drying the fabric, you pull her hand and press it tightly for a bit to let her know it's all right.

5 minutes pass, then 10, then 15. You're still thinking a bit about it, not the beer thing, of course. The party is becoming a bit overwhelming, so you consider standing up and maybe watching TV instead. You know this is not your house anymore, but it's still a home, and you got a couple hours more before the last bus.

— I'm gonna take a nap I think — Your sister says, looking a bit drowsy. She takes a look at you — I can lend you some clothes if you wanna — She says as she puts her hand over yours

— Alright — You don't even question it, your dress fabric is still a bit humid and you feel gross, being totally honest. You take a look at your family, nobody's paying attention, you both stand up and walk towards her room. — I'll take a shower. Can you take the clo-

— I'll leave them on my bed. I'll be changing in the meanwhile, don't worry

So you totally don't, at all. You take a shower without even thinking about your little sister being all touchy and sweet while drunk. Of course you especially don't think about her pulling your dress up and putting her hands on your thighs— (sarcasm). You pick a towel and dry yourself up, then you walk into her room.

Everything's looking the same as always, though you notice she now has a little bookshelf with a mix of YA and academic books. She's on her bed, looking away, now styling a pajama blouse and short pants, the violet color looks pretty on her pale skin.

— I'm gonna change — You warn her, she just raises her thumb. Still, you dress shyly on the opposite corner of the room, keeping the towel on until after you've put on some panties and a t-shirt, then the sweatpants. All her clothes are smaller, so the t-shirt fits tightly over your still-growing breasts, which makes you feel embarrassed.

You turn towards her bed, and realize she's now looking your way— Since when? The thought makes you fluster, but you decide to shuush it away

— Can you stay for a bit? — She asks, softly. Her voice sounds adorable, you wonder if what happened maybe left her in a vulnerable space.

You just nod and sit by the border of the bed. You put your hand over hers and start rubbing it softly.

— It's okay alright? I'm not mad, just so you know — You say, and it seems to help as her expression softens

She pulls you by your waist, letting you know she wants a hug, or maybe some weight to calm herself down. It's okay, you let your body press onto hers, your head now resting over her shoulder.

After a while, you start being conscious of her warm breath on your neck, and though you feel guilty about the thoughts coming to your brain in quick succession, you stay calm by reminding yourself this is not about you. Some minutes later, you're pretty sure she's falling asleep, the silence's reigning over the room and the thoughts are calming down.

And then she starts rubbing her face on your neck, her lips feel made of cotton against your exposed skin. Oh god.

— T-That tickles — Is the only thing that feels apt to say right now. She stops, but just for a bit, before she starts doing it once again, now rubbing her lips against the whole length of your neck and part of your shoulder.

— Is that so? — She says, teasingly, quite close to your ear

Your mind's now racing, you feel like she's crossing a line but you're not really sure which. Do you like this? You don't really want her to stop— Your hand's on her shoulder, and so you dig your fingers a bit into her clothes, resisting the temptation to just run your nails on her soft skin instead.

She responds right away by now opening and closing her lips over your neck, almost as if she wanted to bite you. She's breathing harder- Are you putting too much weight on her? You pull apart, but she pulls you by your waist again, your breasts now brushing against each other. You're now aware of how warm and moist it feels between your thighs, and just when you're forming a single coherent thought, she bites your neck tenderly, then brushes what you believe is the tip of her tongue over it.

You let a single deep breath leave your mouth. A silent moan, really. She once again puts her teeth on your skin, now biting harder. This is happening. Oh gosh, you're making out with your little sister. You let out a soft moan, as you now dig your face on her shoulder, and your nails deep on her skin.

She responds by forcing her knee in between your legs, and pulling the whole weight of your body over hers— Come on, be good — She says. You're now looking at each other's faces, she's blushing red and breathing heavily, you're basically panting and you're sure your hair looks like a birds nest, whatever.

Masks are off. Now it's you that breaks the ice by pushing your knee deep in between her thighs, she's just as hard if not more than yourself, and as she moans softly while looking you right in the eyes, you can't help but think she's the most precious girl on the entire planet.

— Can I kiss you? — You ask, she nods.

And as you lock mouths together, as your tongues intertwine and your saliva mixes with hers, you keep thinking more and more how her lips taste just like cotton candy.

[tttabii]

— 심재윤 DEDICATION FOR YOU

JAKE SIM X READER

note: where he has his own instagram. fan!reader x idol! jake. word count : 2363.

YOU WEREN'T NEW TO FANSIGNS.  Living a short subway ride away from the venue made it simpler, but this time somehow felt... different. Maybe it was the white dress you got, simple, flowy, not revealing but just revealing enough to feel a little self-conscious.

Maybe it was the seven hand-made hoodies in your tote bag, customized for each Enhypen member based on every subtle detail you'd picked up over the years. Or, more likely, it was because you were going to see Jake. Again. Your day one bias.

As the line shuffled, your heart raced. And finally, it was your turn.

You took a step and walked up to Jake's table. You gave him the most genuine smile you could muster with how shaky your nerves were at this point. He quickly scanned you—respectfully, but still noticeably—and glanced over you again, his expression softening the second time. 

"Hi," he said in that low, friendly voice. "What's your name?"

"Y/n," you replied as you did a small bow. "I... have been a fan since debut. You've been my bias since day one."  

Jake's eyes lit up. "Really?" he asked, and you nodded shyly, placing your favorite album in front of him. "This means a lot. Thank you."

As he twisted the cap off the marker, you swallowed a little courage. "Um... Can you sign somewhere else instead?"

He titled his head to one side, looking confused. "Where?"

You reached your arm out a little. "Here."

Jake blinked. "Wait—your arm?"

You nodded. "I want to get it tattooed," you confessed, feeling your cheeks turn hot. "It means a lot to me."

Jake froze, surprised—eyes wide with astonishment, and then softened to something between admiration and awe. "That's... wow. That's real commitment," he said softly. Jake carefully made his way to your arm, always moving at a careful speed. "You're really going to tattoo this?"

"I am," you whispered.Suddenly, there was a blast of wind that rushed through the venue. Hair flew everywhere and stuck to your lip gloss. You cringed, trying to tidy up, embarrassed to look like a mess in front of him.

Jake chuckled a little. "Hey, hey—here." Jake reached for your hair and pushed it behind your ear, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

His eyes were focused and kind. You felt like you couldn't breathe for a moment. Somewhere in the crowd your friend tried took a picture with shaking hands. Other fans nearby gasped quietly, a few squeals erupting.

You were flustered beyond compare, but Jake? He was composed. Calm even. As if this moment involved the two of you."There's," he said, smiling, "Much better."

Your time was almost up. You handed him the bag with the hoodies."I made these... for all of you. Custom. I paid attention to your styles."

Jake looked at the bag, then back at you, you could tell he was quite stunned. "You made them?"

You nodded. "Hope you like them."

"Y/n," he said, repeating your name softly like he didn't want to forget. "You're amazing."

You left the table on a cloud, the signed arm, the warmth of his fingers just barely grazing your hair, and how he said your name, played over in your mind like a favourite episode of a drama.

That evening, the fan photos began popping up.Your interaction was everywhere.

That same night, you sat on your bed in a cross-legged position, focused on your phone, and suddenly you saw a notification for Weverse Live. You didn't even have time to blink before you opened the app.

Jake was live. Wearing your hoodie.The same one you stitched yourself and designed to have (incidentally) his name just barely stitched in like a real hoodie would have it. The cozy, oversized, shade of a navy blue you picked just for him, knowing he once said dark blue was soothing.

And now, it was on him. On live. You could not stop smiling.You recorded the whole thing on screen record, took too many screenshots and even posted your favorite one on your small account on Instagram.

@yn__archive 🧵: i made the hoodie for all the members and they wore it 😭😭 im crying real tears  #enhypen #jakesim #fanmade

Within the hour you were flooded with comments.

"GIRL YOU WON IN LIFE"

"how does it feel to be God's favorite??"

"He literally looks like a boyfriend wearing his girl's hoodie"

"Petition for Jake to @ you himself"

"Drop the tutorial PLS"

You grinned, but had no idea that far away, Jake—the Jake—was also scrolling through Instagram.

On his personal account.

He had been curious ever since you gave him and the others the hoodie you made. 

And then he found it.

Your account.

He tapped your username, and there you were: a fan account curated to perfection, packed with little edits, photos, café visits, outfit shots, and the day you were all at the fansign. He swiped through a few, smiling to himself about how warm and sincere your big love for Enhypen seemed. Then he froze.

There it was, a photo from when you went to the café for his birthday last year. You were standing in front of a giant Jake banner, holding his photocard next to your face, smiling.

Your fitted off-shoulder top showed a little bit of cleavage, your skirt was pleated and barely hit mid-thigh, and you sat with your legs crossed elegantly.

You looked so pretty. So confident. So playful. Jake felt frozen. "Woah..." he said to himself.

He couldn't tell what he was drawn to first—your face, your outfit, or the way you held his photocard like it was the most precious thing. He double-tapped without thinking. Once he realized what he'd just done, he panicked—unliked. Then he hesitated and did something impulsive.

He shared your post from earlier. The one of him wearing your hoodie.

@jake.sim [Shared post from @yn__archive] "Thank you. This is so amazing. We loved them 🧵💙" 

Fans went wild.

You stared at your screen in shock. Jake had just shared your post. Your DMs flooded. Your notifications blew up. Your follower count doubled in minutes.

Some fans were excited, others playful:

"Girl he knows you exist now."

"If you don't marry him, I will."

"He SCROLLED through your page. He saw everything."

Including that birthday café post.

And yet... he still shared your post.

You swallowed hard, heart racing.

Somewhere across the city, Jake sat back in his chair, still on your profile. Yeah. He remembered your name now. And he definitely wasn't forgetting your face.

Times goes by fast, and somehow concert season was already upon us again. ENHYPEN's new Dark Blood era had you feral—the songs, the choreography, the visuals—and Jake's new blonde hair? Absolutely lethal.

So naturally, you dyed your own hair too. Soft blonde, not too bold but enough to be noticed.

Maybe it was dramatic. Maybe it wasn't.

But you didn't care. You were finally seeing them again.

Front row. VIP. With your best friend. And you were going to look hot. You went all out: black mesh sleeves, leather mini skirt, silver accessories, a little glitter by your eyes.

Your tattoo—the one with Jakes's signature—was peeking out of your sleeve on purpose. Your heart was beating out of your chest as the lights dimmed and screams rang out.

They were on. You basically lost your voice in the first 10 minutes. But then it happened. He saw you. Jake zoomed in on you like a 2-for-1 special the second he spotted the blonde. His eyes went wide for a split second, his mouth twitching at the corners like he was trying not to smile too big.  

Your fingers had already started to shake as you reached for your phone, even before you forming a heart with your fingers. Jake jogged over—while still singing—his mic still hot as he sang, quickly forming his hand into the other half of the heart with you. His hand brushed against yours as he held it for a second, and your heart just stopped when he lingered a second longer than necessary.

Then, in the most unbelievable moment in the world, he reached for your phone with one hand, and softly held your fingers with his other, and took two selfies.

One with a cute wink. One with a cute smirk. One with a cute peace sign. One cute smiling face where he smiled right into your soul. He handed it back to you with the most soft expression on his face, like he recognized you.

Like he knew who you were. Then he gently squeezed your fingers before continuing down the stage and interacting with other fans.

You were breathless, phone clutched to your chest as if it was a holy relic. Your ears were definitely pink.

Burning, actually. Jake saw.

Jake totally noticed.

Especially the peek of black ink curving around your upper arm—his signature. The one you got tattooed after the fansign.

He stuttered for just a second. Tripped slightly in his step. Luckily, he masked it by falling right into the next beat of choreography like a pro.

But his ears were red too now.

He was still thinking about you as the song ended. And he kept looking back throughout his performance, he was doing his best to not stare at you. That night, you posted one of the selfies on your fan account, with just three words:

 @yn__archive "He saw me." [photo: Jake and you, fingers making a heart, matching blonde hair, glowing under the stage lights]

Your comment section went off.

"NOOOO THIS IS A FANFIC IRL"

"THE HAIR MATCHING?? THE TATTOOS?? THE EYE CONTACT???"

"HE'S DOWN BAD MA'AM."

"I know he looked back. I saw it. We all saw it."

And back stage, Jake was still there. Still trying to breathe. Still replaying that second.

And when he was going through his tagged posts later... 

He smiled when he saw your post. Hearted it from his private account. Saved the selfie too. He wasn't going to let you be a fan anymore. 

The concert felt like a fever dream, not just because Jake had held your hand mid-song, or that he took selfies on your phone, but also because it wasn't just you who saw all of that.

By the time you and your best friend got outside of the venue, Twitter, TikTok, and fan accounts were already blowing up.

Someone had captured video footage of you squealing and bouncing with excitement talking to your friend after Jake's interaction with you.

You were gushing like an actual middle-schooler, "Did you see him? He smiled at me! I swear, he smiled at me like he knew me!"

You were laughing until your friend was fanning and waving you down like you were overheating.

What you had not anticipated too was the way the camera slowly panned, right to Jake on stage. Looking directly at you. The expression on his face was unreadable, jaw tight.

His eyes? Tracking every detail of you, from your dyed hair, to the fit of your outfit, and, yeah, the way your top sat too perfectly on you. He lingered for a moment before quickly turning away, but maybe a little too quick... like he just got caught.  

The fans were ruthless.

"Is no one gonna talk about the way Jake was LITERALLY checking her out while she was fangirling over HIM???"

"I SAW WHERE HIS EYES WENT. JAKE. BE SERIOUS."

"That boy is fighting for his life."

"I understand  you Jake, I would fold if I had a girl like that as my fan." 

You watched the video about seventeen times before throwing your phone down and burying your face in your pillow.

Wow. It was embarrassing. But the cute kind, where your stomach twists and your cheeks ache from smiling.

You shared a casual story with a few blurry concert photos and the caption: "Still can't believe all of this happened. Thank you for the best night of my life 🤍".

You didn't expect anything else. You thought it was over.

But it wasn't. About 3 am your phone lit up. A DM request. From an account with no posts, no profile picture... but one follower. Someone pretty familiar.

The username was vague, like a random sequence of letters, but as soon as you opened it you knew.

🐶: Is it ok if I message you here? I can't follow you because of... well, obvious reasons, haha. But I just- I couldn't stop thinking about what happened earlier.

Your heart skipped a beat. There was no profile picture. No real name. But you knew it was him. The way he typed. The emoji. The timing. Your fingers were slightly shaky when you replied. 

you: I mean, you did kind of steal my phone. I think that makes us friends now 😌

🐶: true. I don't do that for everyone, you know.

🐶: also, your hair. You really matched me?? That was insane. I thought I was imagining you for a sec.

You bit your lip. He noticed that? Of course he did.

you: of course I did. Blonde Jake? How could I not?

🐶: And that tattoo. Is it real?

Your fingers paused above the screen before you typed:

you: yeah. It's permanent. like my obsession with you.

🐶: wow.

🐶: can I tell you a secret?

You blinked. Fingers hovered.

you: only if you promise not to ruin my entire existence with it.

There was a pause. Then the next message came in.

🐶: you're the prettiest fan I've ever seen. Like, ever."

You stared at the screen for a full minute, heart threatening to beat out of your chest.

This was happening. Jake Sim just called you pretty. Jake Sim who couldn't follow you but still found a way to reach you. Jake Sim who stared too long. Who tripped over choreography after seeing your tattoo. Who looked at you like you weren't just a face in the crowd anymore.

And you weren't dreaming.

[orphicsun]

78 and 79 with sevika PLEASE.

warnings: 18+ content, spanking, thigh-riding, brothel worker reader, names used (whore, good girl)

"Do you like when I spank you?"

Yeah, you absolutely did. Sevika didn't need to ask. You hardly knew the woman, and you were already letting her witness the sight of your hole clenching around nothing as she landed harsh spanks on your ass, reveling in the way the skin jiggles upon impact.

This is supposed to be your job—doing sexual favors for a living in the back of a busy brothel. It's meaningless when you're on your knees for any man or woman. Hell, it's meaningless for anyone.

It's sad to say, but you don't exactly drool over the the idea of any of your clients fucking you. You're used to the type of sex that uses your body, taking from you without any needed pleasure. People don't care about if you cum because you get paid. They treat you differently than their spouses. They even treat you differently than the girls they pick up in cheap bars.

But Sevika is something, an almost comedic exception to the rules of being a prostitute. She spends the first half of your time together, the first half she had paid for warming you up for it. She always knows exactly how to make you want her, too. The wet heat of her tongue slathered all over your pussy until your wet enough for three fingers was what you were given last week. This time, it's something you weren't expecting.

But when she had suggested it, you weren't dull at the thought of her palm on your ass. So here you are, taking it like you're made for her pain.

Another, and then she soothes you, her fingers spreading over the reddened skin. Isn't she sweet?

"C'mon, whore.."

That name. It should be offensive to someone whose job is sex work, but from her lips, it's stated as if it's a compliment. Like you're not just any whore, but the best. Her whore.

You're snapped out of your tainted thoughts when her palm meets your ass again, making you cry out.

"Stupid little whore I've got," she scolds you, scoffing when she looks down to see more arousal seep out of your neglected hole, dripping down your pussy and past your clit. Laid out on your stomach over her lap is the most comfortable position to receive this extreme treatment, but it's a heavenly torture; every time your pussy gets wetter, you have to feel the sensation right on your clit, the smallest bit of sensation you can get from her actions.

"I'm sorry.. please play with me, please." You beg to be touched, to be fucked right here across her lap.

Sevika has different plans for a whore as desperate as you, though.

She gently hauls you up, situating you on her right thigh. Your bare pussy aches and it takes everything in you not to just start riding her thigh. You want to move and use her, but you don't. She hasn't told you to yet. Afterall, she is the one who paid for this.

Two hands embrace your waist, squeezing you. She holds you affectionately despite the situation, pulling you closer. It only makes you wetter.

And then, she whispers in your ear, her voice a command simple enough for your dumb whore brain to follow.

"Use my thigh, baby."

You don't ask her to specify, don't hesitate. You simply let out a desperate little noise and begin rocking your hips back and forth, shivering when your clit drags against her skin, sending pleasure through you.

"I need you so bad, 'Vika. Needtocumplease," you moan out hastily, your hands finding purchase against her shoulders so you can really use her thigh.

"Fuck, that's it," she encourages. "Knew you could be a good girl for me."

You're embarrassingly close already, in your own little world as you smear arousal all over her thigh with each movement. She loves it, too. She loves how she can take a brothel girl like you and turn her into a dumb whore, desperate enough to do bend over at her command and take whatever she gives.

Sevika isn't surprised when your actions speed up to a frantic pace, your thighs fluttering on either side of her thigh. You're already cumming all over her thigh, making a huge mess. She doesn't mind one bit, though.

You let out the cutest little gasps as you ride out the final moments of your bliss, your hips twitching to milk every bit of stimulation until you're finally sated.

You've got another client soon, and now you're just a fucked-out mess.

taglist: @maple-anon, @abbysbutch, @rhian88, @myfabulousnesshasarrived, @mysexy-anxiety, @femme-tobe, @sulliefimmie, @klallx, @elliescoochieeater, @moodient, @leguitarsxxr, @eradicatedbythenightmare, @mytaping, @pryncess123, @saturnhas82moons, @vixxxen, @prettyinpink69, @aceywaycy, @hellokittyfeenie, @starberr1, @ruelezz, @ladybugb0ng, @deluxism, @prwttiestbunny, @eriiwaiii2, @starrycherie, @lonelysapphic, @x0x0xkimara, @mars4hellokitty, @jhyoos, @moonfloweredprincess, @morticeras, @abbysmeatrider, @ferxanda, @frillynpinkprincess, @plasticl0v3r, @g4ys0n, @waitaminuteashh, @bewareofmyglock, @witzs want to be tagged? click here!

[mojifushiguro]

both aint shit ! c.springer

"he lyin to me, im lyin to him. fuck it, guess we both aint shit!" toxic!exboyfriend connie x black!fem reader

warnings: mild(?)cursing, angst if you squint, cheating, mature, smoking

now, you'd be lying if you said connie springer was a good boyfriend. even once. and he'd be lying if he said you were a good girlfriend.

that's why you're not together.

countless arguments, cheating, lying, staying out late with no explanation, and trust issues, basically anything you would think of, both of you did.

but for some reason, every friday evening to night, you left your boyfriend to go see him. he left his girlfriend to go see you.

it was so bad, but you cant get enough of each other.

"still cheatin on wassaname?" he smirked at you from the hotel bed across from you.

you squinted and kicked your shoes off. "dont act like youn know his name. and im not cheating." you rolled your eyes, running your hands though your hair... that connie paid for. and picked the color for. but you weren't cheating, no.

he only scoffed at you, "yeah, ight. he treatin you right?"

you tilted your head from side to side and pressed your lips together. "better than you did."

which, that wasn't a lie. but you just wanted to get on his nerves. "still fucking the same bitch you cheated on me with?" you poked your lip out, and twirled your finger in your blonde hair.

connie, who was staring at the floor, looked up at you with a mildly irritated squint, before slowly starting to laugh. "you funny, you know that?" he frowned into the smile. you nodded, "yep."

connie stopped smiling and rolled his eyes. "whatever. told you I was done wit that girl." he started on rolling his blunt, as he did every time you saw each other. "but every time you see me..." he paused to focus on his blunt. "...you bring ha ass up."

you laid on your side on the bed and shrugged your shoulders. "and? you cheated."

"you got a man, why you still worried bout that?"

you scoffed. "oh, Ian worried. I was asking a simple question."

connie slowly looked at you and started to lightly dab the blunt with his tongue. "you the only one that still care bout that shit." he took it from his mouth to glance at it and then licked it one more time, looking away from you. "this why we cant be together. always bringing up old shit."

he grabbed his lighter.

"you cant even smoke in this hotel. this ain't a motel." you looked him up and down.

connie got up and exhaled. "cause you think you luxury. but that's why that big ass window over there." he tilted his head toward the window before walking over to it.

you chuckled and hopped up, following connie to the window and sitting on the bed behind him as he sat in the rolling chair.

it was already night out and you felt yourself getting tired. watching connie light his blunt, you got a message from your own boyfriend, telling you the door was unlocked, and that he was too tired to wait up.

that's the difference between him and connie, he was much more calm, and overthought things way less.

looking away from your phone that sat on the edge of the bed, you saw connie looking at it, then look at you, blowing smoke out the window of the room you were in.

he sighed.

"he aint suspecting you?"

you shook your head no, and connie hummed, looking out the window. this was the same thing you two would do after an argument. look at the stars together to talk things out.

swallowing, you bit your top lip. "youn ever think we should just leave each other alone?"

connie stayed silent. had you thinking he completely ignored your question. truth was, he was already getting high. and that's when his true thoughts came out.

"shit... yeah. we aint good for each other. in a way where we really shoulda never met." he continued to stare out the window. but that's when he hit his blunt again, and grabbed your wrist, pulling you onto his lap.

his words were harsh. he'd always been a straightforward person. but you already knew he was telling the truth, and he was right.

"but I cant seem to leave yo... lyin... cheatin ass alone." he wrapped his arm around your waist, softly rubbing at it.

you smiled a little and wrapped your arm around his neck. "I cant leave you alone either, but you knew that." your gaze moved to the parking lot, seeing some people walking to and from their cars. "but sometimes, I miss you connie."

connie just stayed quiet. you felt his grip loosen on your waist and his hand move to your thigh, softly rubbing it with his thumb.

"like, when I see other people, I wish we was like them." you looked down at him. "cus I want a relationship with you. I just know how we is..."

connie hit his blunt again.

you just shook your head, knowing he probably wasn't even listening. he never really did. but he was.

"I know."

he looked up at you, before his eyes moved down to your lips. he gave you a soft, quick kiss on the lips, and a few on your cheeks. "I miss you too, ma." he leaned his head against your chest and swallowed. "I just..." he took a deep breath in and out. "...be fuckin up. it dont be you."

you stayed silent, listening to connie.

you were horrible together. and sometimes you felt bad for your boyfriend, and his girlfriend. because they just dont know.

then again, its connie.

you couldn't leave him alone, and your boyfriend should've known that.

[eclipsturns]

⎯⎯⎯⎯ NOW YOU'RE WATCHING ... ㅤsub!matt's gift giving kink.

matt’s got this thing: he loves spoiling you, dropping cash on gifts that get his dick hard just thinking about; not flowers or sweet shit, nah, he’s all about stuff he can watch you wear while he’s balls-deep, stuff he can rip off mid-thrust, or toys that make the fucking messier, louder, better.

you’ve caught him a million times scrolling sites on his phone, sprawled on the couch in his plaid pajama pants, hair a floppy mess, muttering, “fuck, y’d look s’good in this,” as he adds lacy thongs, silk ties, or some buzzing gadget to the cart. It’s his kink—seeing you decked out in his presents, knowing he picked it, paid for it, and gets to ruin it.

today’s no different.

you’re chilling in his room, the air thick with that stale boy smell—sweat, cologne, and whatever takeout he forgot under the bed. he’s slouched against the headboard, bare-chested, pajama pants low enough to show the faint happy trail dipping under the waistband, scrolling tiktok with one hand, the other lazily scratching his stomach.

the doorbell buzzes, and his head jerks up, eyes lighting with that slow, horny grin. “oh, fuck... it’s here,” he mumbles, his tone slurry and eager while stumbling off the bed, tripping over a sneaker as he bolts for the door.

he’s back in a flash, a small brown package in his hands, tossing it onto the bed like it’s gold. “open it, sweetheart—c’mon, for me,” he says, flopping beside you, leaning in close, breath hot on your neck as his fingers twitch, itching to see.

you rip it open, making that annoying black tissue paper spill out—and there it is: a red lace bodysuit, all sheer and strappy, crotchless, the kind that’d frame your pussy like an invitation.

his eyes go dark, tongue swiping his bottom lip as he mutters, “shit, y’gonna wear that? m’so fuckin’ hard already.”

“you’re such a perv,” you tease, smirking, but you’re already stripping—tank off, shorts yanked down, because you know it gets him whining, needy, that lazy sub side of him kicking in hard.

he watches, sprawled back, hand sliding to his pajama pants, palming his cock through the fabric as you shimmy into the bodysuit. the lace hugs your tits, digs into your hips, leaves your cunt bare and dripping, and he groans, low and desperate, “fuck, baby. y’look so good, so perfect f’me.”

“gonna use it?” you ask, climbing over him, straddling his thighs, and he nods fast, all sloppy and eager, hands fumbling to shove his pants down. his cock springs free, looking thick, leaking, the tip red and twitching as he grips it, stroking slow, eyes locked on the lace stretched tight over your chest, the open slit where your pussy’s already glistening.

“i’m so—fuck, m’so into this,” he slurs, voice cracking, “rip it if y’want, just please, fuck me.

you don’t waste time, immediately grabbing his wrists, pinning them above his head, the bodysuit’s straps digging into your skin as you grind your wet cunt against his cock, teasing, not letting him in yet.

he whines in response, loud and pathetic, hips bucking up, “c’mon, don’t tease, m’beggin’, fuck,” his voice all shaky and wrecked. you smirk, loving how he falls apart, how his lazy ass turns into this whimpering mess just for you.

“you want it bad, huh?” you mutter, sliding down, letting his cock catch at your entrance, then slamming onto him—hard, deep, the stretch burning as the lace rubs your thighs raw.

he moans, a guttural, “ohhh, fuck, yesss,” head lolling back, eyes half-shut as you ride him, fast and brutal, the bed creaking under you. his hands twist against your grip, but he doesn’t fight it, he just takes it, panting, “shit, i’m so good f’ya, right?”

“fuckin’ perfect,” you growl, letting his wrists go, and he’s on you, his hands clawing at the bodysuit, tugging straps down until your tits spill out, his fingers pinching your nipples, earning a hiss from you.

he’s whining again, “love this—love you in it—rip it, baby, fuck me up,” and you do; grabbing the lace at your chest, tearing it open with a sharp movement, the fabric splitting as he groans, “yesss, fuck, s’hot.”

you lean forward, slamming your hips down, his cock hitting deep, wet and messy as your slick coats him, dripping down his balls. he’s a wreck, drops of sweat beading on his forehead, mouth open as he moans, “so close, baby—harder, please.”

you grab his hair, yanking his head back, biting his neck until he yelps, and ride him savage, the sound of skin slapping loud, the torn lace scraping your skin, his cock throbbing inside you, stretching you.

“gonna cum for me?” you pant, voice sharp, and he nods, frantic, “y-yeah, m’gonna—please, let me,” his voice all high and broken.

you clench around him, tight and deliberate, and he loses it, his moans intensified, “ohhh, shit!” as he cums, hot and thick, spilling inside you, his hips jerking sloppy and wild.

you don’t stop grinding down, chasing yours, the bodysuit a shredded mess as you cum hard, a choked scream ripping out, pussy pulsing around him, “t-too much—fuck, you’re so good.”

you collapse on him, both of you sweaty, panting, his cum leaking out, soaking the ruined lace and his thighs. he’s dazed, grinning lazy, hand sliding up your back, voice slurry, “jeez, y’look s’good in my shit. m’buyin’ y’more—tons more.”

© eclipsturns 's all rights deserved !ㅤ ꕀ ⠀⠀𔘓⠀⠀⠀

𝐌𝐘 𝐁𝐀𝐃𝐃𝐈𝐄𝐒ㅤ: ㅤ @courta13 @chrislilcumslvt @marrykisskilled @chrislova @hazedsturns @inspiredangel @strnilolover @emely9274 @sturns-mermaid @ariieeesworld @pixie-sticks-are-good @luvjaeeee @sturnslutz @mattswifeyy @mattswifeyy @oopsiedaisydeer @v4lsturn @pair-of-pantaloons @idkwhatthisevenislol @sturn777 @whore4mattsturniolo @mattchalattee @madifilipowiczisthebest @fratbrochrisgf @sturniolo101 @ivysturnss @mattsatellite @onevison @izzylovesmatt @allisonclairee @m4gz-png @mr-wrinkleton @bluestriips @surprisecurlyfriesbackup @ariestrxsh

[bitchy-craft]

PICK A CARD: Song lyrics that describe your future relationship

Hello and welcome to this reading! Here I will give you song lyrics that describe your future relationship. I hope you enjoy this reading!

masterpost > paid readings > patreon masterlist

The extended version of this reading can be found on my patreon, the link of which is here the 18+ version is here

Pile 1:

“You’re still the one I run to, the one that I belong to / You’re still the one I want for life.” – Still the One – Shania Twain

“I’ve loved you for a thousand years / I’ll love you for a thousand more.” – A Thousand Years – Christina Perri

“I found a love, to carry more than just my secrets / To carry love, to carry children of our own.” – Perfect – Ed Sheeran

“I never thought I'd be in love with you / But I guess that it was meant to be.” – You and Me – Lifehouse

“You are the one, I will love forever / You are the one, I will never leave.” – I Will Always Love You – Whitney Houston

“And I can't help falling in love with you.” – Can't Help Falling in Love – Elvis Presley

“The more I think about it, the more I think about you / I just want to be with you.” – Everything – Michael Bublé

“You are my best friend, but I also love you / I love the way you look at me.” – I’m Yours – Jason Mraz

“When I look in your eyes, I see forever / And I know I don’t have to go anywhere.” – All of Me – John Legend

“I knew I loved you before I met you / I think I dreamed you into life.” – I Knew I Loved You – Savage Garden

extended reading > 18+ version > paid readings

Pile 2:

“And I’ll be your friend / I’ll help you carry on / For it won’t be long / ‘Til I’m gonna need somebody to lean on.” – Lean on Me – Bill Withers

“When I fall in love, it will be forever / Or I’ll never fall in love.” – When I Fall in Love – Nat King Cole

“You’re the one that I want / You are the one I want / Ooh, ooh, ooh, honey.” – You're the One That I Want – John Travolta & Olivia Newton-John

“And I can’t help but wonder, how much you love me.” – I Can’t Help Falling in Love With You – Elvis Presley

“The way you look at me / The way you touch me / The way you love me / It feels so good.” – I Don’t Want to Miss a Thing – Aerosmith

“I’ll be your shelter / I’ll be your armor / I’ll be your strength / I’ll be your love.” – I’ll Be Your Shelter – Taylor Dayn

“No one ever loved me like you do, / Oh, you’re the only one I see / You’ve got to keep me by your side.” – Only One – The Chainsmokers

“I’ll be right here / I’ll be right here waiting for you.” – Right Here Waiting – Richard Marx

“You're my only reason, you're my only truth / I was born to love you.” – I Was Born to Love You – Queen

“I don’t need a lot of things / I can get by with nothing / But all I need is you.” – I Don’t Need Anything But You – From Annie

extended reading > 18+ version > paid readings

Pile 3:

“We don’t have to talk, it’s alright / Just be my woman tonight / We don’t have to talk, it’s alright / Just be my woman tonight.” – Let's Stay Together – Al Green

“Love is all around me, and so the feeling grows / It’s written on the wind, it’s everywhere I go.” – Love is All Around – Wet Wet Wet

“The harder I try to forget / The harder it gets / I will be here.” – I Will Be Here – Steven Curtis Chapman

“I’m sorry for the way I’ve been, I’ll make it right / I’m sorry for the times I haven’t been the one you need.” – Sorry – Beyoncé

“And if you’re feeling scared, you can take my hand / And we’ll fight through it together, you and me.” – Fighter – Christina Aguilera

“We fight, we laugh, we make up / We cry, we laugh, we fall apart / But we’re still standing here.” – You’re Still the One – Shania Twain

“There’s no place like home, you’re where I want to be / So don’t fight it, baby, just be with me.” – Home – Michael Bublé

“I’ll be the one to hold you tight / The one to make things right / After all the times we’ve tried.” – Make It Right – Backstreet Boys

“I’ll never give up on us / I’ll never give up on love.” – Never Give Up On Us – David Soul

“We’re not perfect, but we’re perfect for each other.” – Perfect – Pink

extended reading > 18+ version > paid readings

[loganficsonly]

hello!!! hope you're have a great day so far!! I was wondering if could you write something with Logan and an easily flustered! reader?? like they get bashful when he does anything sweet and super embarrassed when he's being flirty or touchy with them?? maybe they're a little insecure that he might still have feelings for Jean or think that he could do way better??

thank you for writing in! this is super cute but i think i ended up writing something so fucking debauched, i'm so sorry. this is just straight up porn lmao

i hope you don't mind me taking jean out of the equation too!

first time writing patch!logan >:)

beneath the mask

patch!logan x f!reader, 3.4k WARNINGS: 18+ MDNI please this is nothing but filthy smut!!!, flirting?, patch is a warning, reader has hair and is able-bodied, dirty talk, fingering, oral sex (f!receiving), piv, riding, unprotected sex (please be responsible), pet names, not proofread or edited AUTHOR'S NOTE: writing sexy shit is hard eh. anyway, reader is a singer who looks like she can eat a man up and picks her teeth with his bones but is actually super easily flustered. i think i lost the plot towards the end but at least reader and logan get to bang!

Cherry lips croon from behind the silver microphone. Each syllable forms like the slow drip of nectar, lush and perfect and full of promises for those in the audience who have a thirst to quench.

And indeed one could say you’re a tall glass of water, standing on the stage with your hair framing your face like a painting, delicate nails stroking the mic. But with that deep red dress that shines every time you move under the light, it would be more accurate to call you a tall glass of Madripoor’s finest wine. 

Coveted. Delicious. Expensive.  

The spotlights are blinding, reducing the faces staring up at you into shadowed outlines.

That’s good. Between that darkness and the buzz of a warm drink you had just before the start of your set, nervousness has no place here.

You feel a curl of a smile on your lips. Melancholy melodies from the piano resound beneath your voice. The plucks of a double bass from the back of the stage, in time with soft shuffles of a drum set. The music is slow and languid, and you feel yourself sinking into it as you sing.

There was a boy

A very strange enchanted boy

They said he wandered very far

Very far

Over land and sea…

A figure in white cuts through the bar. There’s no need for words—a drink is placed in front of him swiftly, the caramel-colored liquid refracting in the light, ice clinking against the chilled glass. He sits, facing towards the stage. 

One eye trained on you.

Business held him up more than he’d like. He settles down after a burning sip of whiskey, sufficiently satisfied with how he dealt with the problems that caused him to be late for this.

He’d call it a win-win situation. They paid the price. His suit remains crisp, unsullied. You are still singing. Your last song, evidently—Nature Boy is always your closer—but at least he got to hear you and that beautiful voice. 

A little shy and sad of eye

But very wise was he

From behind the rim of his glass, he drinks in your figure.

Stunning. The dress betrays your curves, hugging them like second skin. He sees the sinful slit on the side of your thigh, only visible when you move enough. Your hair is down tonight, he notices—a different impression compared to that of your usual updo. Relaxed. Free. No doubt inviting visions of what you would look like with your head on a pillow, hair splayed as you sigh a sultrier tune… 

You look like you were destined to doom good men. 

Lucky for him, he isn’t a good man.

And then one day

One magic day he passed my way

And we spoke of many things

Fools and kings

This he said to me 

Something pulls your eye to the bar, the only illuminated spot in the crowd.

He’s here. 

There’s a subtle shiver—your skin reacting to the sight of him. White suit, black bowtie. Always the same colors, always here, watching. The many stares you earn from others don’t stand a chance to the smolder of his single eye. Unlike the rest, you can’t tell what’s on his mind. Maybe that’s why his presence at poker tables is considered a curse.

You thought he wouldn’t show, seeing as he missed almost the entirety of your set. But now that he’s fifty feet away, strong hand wrapped around a glass, you find butterflies in your stomach.

Your eyes meet. 

The greatest thing

You’ll ever learn

Is just to love

And be loved in return

A thunderous applause and fifteen minutes later, he finds you on the other end of the bar, surrounded by admirers. They stand a little too close for his liking, but it’s almost part of your job to smile and laugh at them. 

He watches as your fingers move up to fix a gentleman’s tie, half-lidded eyes focused on your task. The man tenses in a way that looks all too familiar. You move smoothly to hug an older woman, lips puckered for an air kiss on her cheek. There’s a hand on your jaw, thumb stroking affectionately, and you lean in, basking in the attention. 

A hand on your arm. Fingers brushing against yours as they hand you your drink. And eyes, god, eyes that roam over you, barely veiling the wicked thoughts behind them.

You merely give them a small smile. The kind that tells them you know, and that you like it.

If he weren’t any better, he’d be seething, but really he’s the same as they are. Hungry for a drop of you. 

But he isn’t angry, or jealous. Can’t be. Not when you catch his eye and cordially murmur your thanks and ‘excuse me’s before parting the crowd, moving towards his seat at the end of the bar. 

Of course, knowing who he is, they don’t pursue you.

He stands as you arrive in front of him, eye locked on yours while he brings your knuckles up to his lips. He notices your painted nails, elegant and manicured to resemble little claws that remind him of cats. He smiles.

The brush on your skin feels innocent, but the shudder you try to suppress is anything but.

“You look beautiful as always.”

Maybe it’s your proclivity for music that makes you so sensitive to his voice. It’s deep and rumbly, awakening a longing for you to place your hand on his chest to feel it. 

“I didn’t think you’d make it,” you reply back softly. He places a hand on your lower back, guiding you to walk with him, likely to one of the private lounges he has access to. Your stride is in time with his as you walk side by side into the velvet-covered hallway.

You can see a slight quirk on his lips, ornamental sconces bathing dim light on his handsome face as he murmurs words only for you to hear.  

“How could I ever miss your show, honey?” 

It’s always like this with Patch.

A big bouquet of red roses, as if you just made your debut when you’ve in fact done this a hundred times over. They’re placed in a nice vase before he pampers you with the kind of dinner you used to have once every year for a birthday celebration. The conversation that ensues with him is quiet but easy, despite each word hanging heavily with the hidden prospect for more.

Before he leaves, he’d ask you to drink with him. A small amount of something heavy and chilled. Keeping him company. So far you’ve never denied his request—not because you’re intimidated, but because you’re interested.

Tonight is no different, except the two of you are standing, and he’s so close.

He’s as striking as a portrait, white suit cutting a clear silhouette against the dark mahogany walls of the room. Low lights and a thick door grant a sense of isolation while you’re, in fact, still in a public place. He has a hand on your cheek, thumb stroking your skin, and you know the heat that gathers under his touch is not because of the alcohol.

“You know I’m a patient man, don’t you, honey?” he rasps, hungry eyes taking in your face. God, you’re even more perfect up close. 

He feels you nod, the gesture a little timid. Something in his chest blooms at the look in your eyes—when it was steady before, cool under the hot spotlights, he can feel a slight change swirling in it. It’s been there, brewing since he closes the door to this room. Blooming when he pays all of his attention to you while you eat.

Nervous. Just from being with him.  

He takes a step forward, slowly cornering you into the wall. Your eyes widen slightly as you look up at him. He sees you swallow, breath hitched, a hand on his chest ready to push him away.

When you don’t, his blood sings.

“Patch—”

“It’s just us, sweet thing,” he purrs, correcting you. You exhale a little shakily.  

“...Logan.”

He hums, pleased at the sound of your voice calling his name. What he’d do to make you sing it louder, like you’re begging for him—he’s had plenty of dreams where you haunt him with just your voice, cooing, coaxing him to unravel you, to take you—

“Not sure I can be so patient anymore,” he says, his body brushing against yours. A hand rests on your waist, pulling you close. The other that’s on your cheek slides down to your jaw before nestling at the back of your neck, craning your head so you’re looking directly up at him.

“What do you mean?” you whisper, staring at his chin instead. If you looked into his eyes right now, you’d wither.

Lips press against your ear. The touch is undemanding, but firm, warm breath eliciting a gasp from you. Your hand on his chest catches him tensing at the sound.

“Means I want you. Now,” he answers, voice low. His hand on your waist slides down to your hip, tugging you until your breath stops—he’s hard. Your chest heaves. 

Pulling away, he looks at you. You wonder what you look like. You feel feverish.

“Will you let me have you?”

A warm, calloused hand slips onto your naked thigh through the slit of your dress, and your knees are so close to buckling. Heels knock into the wall behind you, but there’s nowhere to run.

…do you even want to?

Madripoor is filth dressed up as a gemstone. The city’s deceitfulness is something Logan is accustomed to. He has seen and studied all the ways people lie.

Except for yours. The moment he takes you to the penthouse of the hotel, kissing you senseless against the locked door before carrying you to the bedroom, he feels it. The unraveling of your own brand of trickery.

Senses it through the way you slot your lips against his, how your hands glide softly down his back. He’s been with enough women to know exactly how different you are just by having you like this, under him on his bed while his mouth devours yours. 

When he pulls away, he doesn’t see the woman on stage. There’s no surety in your half-lidded eyes, already glazed with desire, and certainly not in the way they avoid his own gaze, looking away over his shoulder. 

Hazel eye rakes down your body. Your dress rides up, slit revealing your leg in its entirety. The cowl neck of your outfit reveals a hint of your breasts as you heave with each labored breath.

You are a seductress, just not the kind people think you are.

While you put on your mask, you feed their imaginations with easy smiles and affectionate touches. The picture-perfect illusion of a siren, dangerously alluring.

That same person is crumbling underneath him only after a few deep kisses. Averting your gaze, eyelids fluttering. Blushing. 

It drives him wild.

His mouth waters as he hovers above you, still dressed. An animal wearing human clothes. His deception. He uses his hand, directing your gaze at him, smirking at the lost look on your face.

“So fucking pretty for me.”

A palm presses against your breast, lips latching onto your neck as he gets you out of the dress. As gorgeous as you look with it on, he needs to see you bare. He is slow with it, letting the straps fall first, marking the skin of your shoulders, preening as he feels your hands on his back guiding him close. 

Then Logan tugs the silky fabric down, revealing your breasts. You move your arms to cover it. He doesn’t let you, grabbing them and pinning your wrists with one hand to keep you still.

“Don’t stare,” you whisper, twisting your body away from him, but that only makes you look more delicious, tits bouncing. 

“Oh, honey,” he hums. It’s cute, he thinks, the way you try to shrink.

Makes him want to ruin you even more.

“I’d do whatever you ask me to, but that’s just impossible.”

He leans down, tongue lapping up a hardened peak before he uses his free hand to grab your flesh and sucks. You cry out, writhing beneath him, looking like you’re close to tears. Pleasure floods his veins, making him impatient. Where he was restrained before, he’s all relentless lust now—teeth, tongue, and lips working together to coax more of those gorgeous sounds out of you. He moves to your other breast. God, your moans…

“Logan,” you cry out, and he just about loses it.

“Fuck, you sing amazing, but that sounds even better,” he laughs, letting go of your hands so he can provoke you with both of his. The sight of your tits under his palms, slick with the attention he’s given you, nipples hard… Logan wonders whether this is a special type of heaven.

“Give me more, baby.”

You find yourself doing as you’re told, all kinds of lewd noises escaping your lips. He makes you, playing your body like some kind of instrument he’s long mastered, despite having you for the first time. When the dress comes off you entirely, you squeeze your thighs together, vaguely aware of the sopping mess that’s coalesced in your center. 

Logan’s hand parts you, growling.

“No hiding.” He yanks the side of your underwear down, slipping it down your legs before tossing it. Where it lands, he couldn’t care less. 

He smells you before he sees you, and his cock twitches. His good eye focuses on the glisten at the apex of your thighs, visible even in the dim light of the bedroom.

“She’s so wet already, honey,” he smiles, zeroing in at your pussy as two fingers come up to play with your folds. You arch your back, groaning. “Just from playing with your tits?”

“A-ah…” 

Your thighs clamp together, but his other hand interferes just as quickly, gripping your knee to keep you spread. Fuck, he’s still fully dressed—

“So it’s all just an act? The sensual songstress,” he breathes heavily, slipping his middle finger in, watching you writhe at the sensation. He almost laughs, not out of humor, but from the way your walls clench onto his digit like you don’t want him to ever leave. “Soaked for me—” 

“No, it’s not—”

“When was the last time you had a man, then, honey?” he grits, his middle finger all the way inside of you. His cock strains underneath the tent in his pants, eager to have you.

“I d-don’t remember,” you reply, your voice thin and airy.

Ideas flood his head then and there. All the ways he can make you feel good, how loud he can make you scream for him, how he’ll change you, make you want more, make you greedy—

“You’ll remember me after we’re done,” he rumbles, sliding down until your legs bracket his shoulders, head between them. 

When his tongue slides up your cunt, you part your lips in a silent scream, before whines slip past your throat. He’s almost conceited in the way he eats you out, so sure, and he’s not wrong to be. Lips tease and kiss until you’re certain your lungs are short on air, all while his finger stretches your insides, reaching a part so deep you’re sure it hasn’t been touched in a long time.

Then one finger becomes two and they pump, slick sounds of your leaking cunt echoing in the room. Your hand flies to his hair, tugging needily. He moans against you, vibrations racking your body with goosebumps.

As he closes his mouth around your clit, fingers ruining you, you sob his name, cum soaking his digits.

That’s only the first one.

Logan sinks his fingers into your pussy, two fingers scissoring you. He hovers over you, mouth against your ear saying all kinds of obscenities while he stretches you in preparation for the real thing. 

“Pussy so tight, baby, relax for me,” he growls, feeling you drench his fingers. The slapping sounds of his hand against you grow louder. You moan as he curls inside of you, hitting a spot that makes your vision blur. “Wanna make sure my dick fits inside her, yeah?”

“Fuck,” you cry weakly. He grins.

“It’s just my fingers, honey. My cock’s going to fucking ruin you, I know it. Gonna make you feel so fucking good, you won’t even look at any other guy. That right?”

Your response is an unintelligible mewl. A familiar wave crests, the knot at the bottom of your gut tightening.

“Come on, pretty girl, cum for me.”

How on earth he does it, you’re not sure. Your body obeys his command as if he has some kind of control over it, spine arching high as your hips sway, greedy for his digits, and when his thumb flicks that bundle of nerves you collapse. There’s a long drawn-out moan of his name as you spasm and shake, music to his ears.

He doesn’t waste time entering you, jacket shed, pants hanging low on his thighs—far too desperate at this point. Soon, you’re leaking all over his cock. His hand gently directs your gaze to where your bodies join, holding your chin as he feeds you his inches.

“Fuck, honey, look at that. Taking me so well.”

He moves.

A common sense of decency, the songs you sang in the set earlier, the taste of the drink he poured you—all of these things are forgotten, your mind a clean slate with each thrust of his length inside you. The way he moves is designed to make you fall apart quickly, relieving the ache in your core while making you want more, and you feel that sensation build within you again. Hands grip his biceps as you pant, eyelids fluttering up at him, drinking his expression while he spews filth at you. 

“Feels so good, baby, you’re so fucking hot.” His hips snap, a squelching sound between your legs. “Hear that? So wet for me. Want more?”

You mewl a ‘yes, Logan, please’ and he grins in delight, a renewed vigor in his already ruthless pace.

“God, fuck, you’re so tight. Gonna cum on my cock?” 

Nodding, you bury your face in his neck, letting out little gasps every time he sinks into you. You feel so full, like he’s all the way in your stomach—

“Tell me. Use your words, baby.”

“I-I’m so close, Logan,” you cry. 

“That’s right, let go, sweet thing, let me take care of you.”

The third time your orgasm hits, you’re hit by the reality of everything, your senses honing in to register only him. The way his length drags your walls—fuck, he hasn’t stopped—, his breath on your temple, the rumble of his voice as he praises you—“good girl, doing so good,”—the world stops. 

It’s just you, him, and how good it feels.

As the last waves of release begin to simmer down your limbs, electrifying your legs and fingertips, you pant, catching your breath. A gentle hand cups the fat of your cheek. You open your eyes.

Logan looks down at you, studying your utterly ruined countenance. Lips parted, cheeks burning, hair messily splayed on his pillow—the same way he imagined it would when he saw you sing just an hour ago.

That expensive lipstick hasn’t budged, though. He already knows one way he wants to ruin it.

The world spins and you let out a surprised noise as Logan flips the two of you, him on the bed and you sitting on his abs. You whine, feeling the slick smearing his shirt. He all but rips the fabric down the center, yanking it off his skin like it offended him, revealing his bare and hairy chest to you.

Hands are on your hips now, positioning you on top of his length. Your eyes widen. He’s still hard.

Once again, his cock sinks into your heat, and you melt on top of him, hands bracing on his chest, head tilted back.

“Oh my god—”

“Didn’t think I was done with you, huh, honey?” he groans, bottoming out, hand pressing on your stomach. Then his eye snaps up at you, pleased at the hazy look on your face. 

“Come on, ride. Gonna fuck the shyness outta you.”