#same for the holes in his ears

[moonlitministry]

As last post of the year here's my main oc unmasked, happy new years!

[little-red-fool]

This is so insignificant and I know they scanned in the actors so the models are pretty much 1:1 but it makes me happy that Higgs also has a Darwin’s tubercle.

[namelessprince]

this song and whatever the fuck is going on with chip and the abyss

[burinazar]

more Ganja-tai nonsense that either hadn't made it to tumblr yet or is freshly generated. see tags on this post for context. but once again The Context Won't Make These Less Stupid.

[definitionsfading]

thinking about lemon and tangerine’s gay little coordinating gold earrings every day of my life

[akkivee]

😭😭😭

[screampied]

☆ cw. fem! reader, true form! sukuna, cūnnilingus, using his stomach mouth, dirty talk, praise, mdni.

“c’mere,” sukuna hoarsely utters, hunching over his throne that solely consisted of piles and piles of corroded dusty bones. with his head leaning down, he’s got a near-perfect view of you. he’s zeros narrow eyes down at your frame, focusing primarily between the gap of your legs and the panties that were already pulled to the side. as you take a step closer, you watch as he takes broad two hands, stretching the fleshy skin of his stomach mouth into a priggish grin. “closerrrr,” and you stare at the way his other beefy arms stack underneath each other. sukuna was big, even while hunched over. he notices your eyes weren’t focusing on him - but instead, his peculiar abdomen’s smile that spreads across his stomach with the widest, cockiest simper. “ah. don’t worry. it won’t bite.. for now.”

with a hushed soft-spoken murmur, you take your seat on his lap before meeting his cold, crimson-eyed gaze. “you can just . . make it smile like that?”

“oh.. i can make it do many other things, too,” and you gasp, feeling sukuna’s other unoccupied hands gently claw at your waist. now, you’re straddling him, feeling each throb between your pretty thighs accelerates by the second. closely leaning his naturally curved lips up against the soft shell of your ear, sukuna lets off a gruff whisper.

“how ‘bout ya try sittin’ on it, princess? it is pretty famished.”

the corners of the mouth that stitched against sukuna’s skin wetly drooled the more you brought your hips closer.

he could practically smell your sweet scent - and the buds that lived on his tongue sizzled with carnal anticipation. from the very cracks and corners of its mouth, you saw how it eagerly slobbered from both sides with glittery drops of saliva.

“o- okay..” you breathe, lightly bringing your palms toward his chest, pushing sukuna to recline back. you could feel yourself throbbing ferociously, each pulse nearly causing your thighs to glue together before you align yourself.

you weren’t even looking at sukuna—and yet, through bleary peripherals, you could see that same cunning grin from his stretching at each wry corner of his lips.

the flat pink tongue flops itself out of its mouth, running its feverishly wet tip down between the crevices of your thighs. you hover over sukuna’s stomach with a whine dramatically tearing out from your throat. “oh! f- fuuuck.” your brows would furrow together as the tongue wanders and dips its way into every orifice. it drags itself further, poking the very hot tip of the twitching muscle near your pearly clit.

it was almost like it had a mind of its own.

and oh- it did.

sukuna’s always had a long tongue . . but his stomach tongue was far, far wider.

he could extend it while inside of you, and it didn’t take long at all before he reached deeply against the spongy barrier around your g-spot.

your thighs forever continued to quaver over him as his tongue roams at all angles - sloppily roving everywhere, even lapping near your hole.

it’s tepidly hot, and your naturally glossed lips couldn’t help but part — cutely spreading into a gasping, agape ‘o’ shape.

it lolls its way flat against your pussy before sluuuurping up a long three-second suck. it’s so-so wet, and it even starts to drink up the remnants of slick that drip between the slot of your thighs.

“you taste sweeter than usual, little one,” he grunts, allowing his stomach tongue to explore through every nook ‘n cranny inside of your dripping cunt. “mhm, atta girl. just ride . . riiiide against it- against me. don’t be shy. it likes you.”

a shivering whimper was a response as your lips trembled. his tongue was wide, and it slithers its way deep before nibbling against your clit. sukuna darkly chortles, feeling your legs trying to close themselves shut but one of his hands grabs your thigh. “easy, eaaaasy girl,” he speaks in a smoky rasp, watching as your back creates an arch.

your hips couldn’t help but shimmy - writhing from his touch before the thick tongue swerves around in sloppy curving arcs. “good . . girl, look at those pretty hips movin’ all for me,” and you whine, feeling him bring three rough, callused hands toward your waist.

he’s slow — slowly guiding your hips to rock against his stomach tongue that’s just oh-so eager, greedily delving its way in and out of your gummy, soaked walls. every few seconds, pant after pant of such languid breaths leaves from your chest, leaving you utterly breathless.

“mmh- ‘kuna, fuck ‘m not .. gonna,” and you watch as the demon raises a pink slit brow. the fat, long tongue punctures its way deep and thoroughly makes itself known inside of you. as it continues to massage its tip through your folds, you let off the sweetest moan once the tongue’s texture abruptly changes.

and now — it feels a bit softer but forked. your eyes started to roll once his stomach tongue thrusts itself between your puffy droopy hoods..

each slick, slimy squelch that wetly sobs from between your legs got louder, louder until you were frantically grinding against his chiseled chest.

as your clit’s being repeatedly stretched by the bumpy flatness of the tongue—you mewl out the same desperate cries, nearing yourself closer and closer toward your longly awaited edge.

your thighs never felt more weak, and it’s like you could feel every chill run down your body at each slurp he took. the tongue that resided on sukuna’s stomach was the pure definition of greedy..

if you dared to move just a single inch, it would snarl - making the sharp edges of his canines playfully nip near your sopping cunt. inaudible babbles slipped past your lips in substitution of words before you ended up falling face first into his chest.

“su- hng- sukuna, ‘m cummin,” you’d squeal out, failing to catch your breath every time. each breath that tries to wind out of your overwhelmed lungs makes you gasp. pounds of ridden, tender flesh smear its way on his tongue in circles before you start to feel the impact — the impact being your poor, poor hips quaking over his abdomen. “fuckk!”

“thaaaat’s it,” he purrs, such baritone sweetly coating his voice like honey. two arms wrap around your torso as you’re losing yourself completely.

your treacly slick pours down the valley between your thighs as you whine, burying your face into his left shoulder. sukuna gives your back a praising pat as you’re succumbing to pleasure, riding out your elated high with the most blissful orgasm rawly following out your throat. “heh, such a dramatic girl. it’s just a tongue,” and as sukuna continues to take jabs at your cute, dumb state—he swats a hand against your ass.

“mhm,” he lets out a satisfied grumble, hearing your breaths turn from quick to slow within seconds. sukuna’s stomach mouth had more than an appetizing meal—and you could feel its lengthy tongue slap its way against your pussy before retreating into its drooling maw.

even still - it greatly drools from the sides with your slick glistening all over his bare, ripped stomach. “such a good little thing,” and you moan, defeated gargled whimpers desperately trying to escape from your throat before he grabs your chin. “c’mere, let me get a taste too.”

closing the brief distance between you both, you press your hot lips against sukuna in a hungry manner. the demon titters as your tongue weakly slips into his mouth, feeling his fangs nip against your quivering underlip.

a hand of yours idly slides its way down his puffed-out chest that was proudly covered with infamous ancient markings.

crowns of teeth sharply clash amongst each other as if a never-ending battle was occurring, and he’s slurping up every one of your moans.

one of sukuna’s hands that was stacked underneath his upper arm snakes its ways between your thighs, giving your sensitive wet cunt a teasing squeeze. “mmph-” you gasp, feeling the smirk stretch wide across his lips before the demon gradually starts to pull away.

you’re left panting—and sukuna eyes you curiously, looking down at you literally before he seductively slides his tongue across his pink lips.

“best meal i’ve had in centuries,” and you continued to quietly moan before watching him lean back against his throne again, patting his now closed stomach tongue. “but princess, don’t catch your breath now,” and you gulp, glancing at the lower placement of his hands.

sukuna does the same action from earlier—prying both corners of his stomach mouth apart into an eerily, haughty smile before watching the tongue roll out once more.

quickly - it licks over its entire mouth where some of your slick still perfectly remained and sukuna runs a stubby thumb down your pussy before letting the extra tongue get the first taste again.

“i think we could go for dessert right now too..”

[nezuscribe]

(previous part)

it's been a week since you've spoken to arranged!gojo, and he feels like he's about to start going crazy.

you don't speak during your meals, not even when he addresses you in a question. sometimes you spare him a glance, but he'd still rather see your icy glare than see nothing at all.

and he knows he fucked up. he knows that you seeing him alone with anya was perhaps the worst possible place you could’ve caught him, but he's been almost begging you to listen to him, to hear his side. but every time he goes to explain you leave abruptly, leaving him alone, feeling the looks of pity from those around the two of you.

and you know you're being petty. after all, the two of you are only bound by words, nothing else. if anything, the two of you were just becoming friends, so this shouldn't hurt you as much as it does.

but you hear the whispers of the ladies, hear of their secret proposals of how gojo would surely bed them if they just asked. how miserable he must be trapped with you, how this marriage is ruining his life. and you know anya, know about her history with him. before you were his wife you were the higher echelon wallflower, listening to all the gossip, observing from afar.

you've gathered some ideas in your head as to why he might want to speak with you. perhaps he wants to gently break the news that he's found a mistress, one that he actually loves. or that maybe he's already had one and now you know why he's been so secretive.

so the more he tries to talk to you, the more you pull away. you don't know why he cares so much, why this even matters to him. if anything, you feel like he should be content with your silence.

but he's not, and gojo grows more restless by the hour.

he decides he can't live like this anymore. tonight he's going to make you listen to him, even if you want nothing to do with him.

you're holed up in your room, talking with alina as she dabs lavender oil on your neck before you go to sleep. you know she knows about your silence with gojo, but ever friend, she does nothing to bring it up.

well, she wouldn't have to if he didn't come knocking feverishly at your door.

you watch in your mirror as she peeks her head out, her gasp of surprise causing a sinking pit to form in your stomach. you can hear how she scrambles with the titles of my lord, how she explains that you're nearly about to go to sleep.

it's late, the only light is the flickering of the candles on your nightstand. he should be asleep by now.

gods, you wonder for the millionth time this week, why does he care so much?

alina finishes up, closing the door slightly as she turns to you, her eyes finding yours in the mirror.

"i'm sorry my lady," she bows her head almost apologetically, "but my lord wants to talk to you. he's requested me to leave...if you'll excuse me," she bows, quickly leaving, not giving you any time to actually excuse her. you know she can't stay any longer, but you do wish she put up more of a fight. you watch her skirt bustle away, the door being left slightly ajar.

you try to act nonchalant, continuing to dab the oil onto your wrists as you look down, even when you hear the door click shut, even when you can feel his presence several feet behind you.

you sigh through your nose, heat rising to your cheeks.

"what?" you bite out, your own voice shocking you. you want to get this over with, not too desperate to hear about how he's ready to take on a mistress and shun you away.

you can hear him take in a deep breath, your eyes briefly looking up in the mirror to catch his, the same ones that make your knees weak, and avert your gaze.

"you haven't spoken to me in over a week," he says after a beat of silence.

you shrug indifferently, despite the fact that he could probably ask you the specific amount of hours it's been since the two of you had talked and you'd give an accurate number.

"i've been busy," you murmur, taking your earrings off as you place them gently in the little glass bowl to the side.

he doesn't say anything about your blatant lie, just nods slowly, as if he understands.

"i missed hearing you talk," gojo tells you quietly, almost as if his voice had been stuck in his throat, and you wonder if any man before him had ever tried to sweet talk his wife before he told her about his new mistress.

you don't say anything, still refusing to look at him as you stand up from your seat, turning off one of the candles near you as you smooth out some of the wrinkles of your nightgown.

"is this what you really want to tell me gojo?" you say bluntly, looking to the side momentarily, getting a longer look at his bulky figure, how he tries to make himself seem smaller, "that you miss my stupid jokes and dull stories?"

"they're not stupid," he quickly cuts in, his voice a little stronger, brows furrowed, "and i like your stories."

you roll your eyes, moving around the bed, to the side where he's not, and fluff your pillows. you've never found this useful, but it gives you something to do with your hands other than fidgeting with them.

truth be told, you're reflecting. you're scared of what it is he has to say, and so you try to appear stronger, and less caring, despite the fact that it's tearing you apart.

you try not to feel self-conscious of the fact that this is his first time ever seeing your room, or the fact that it's so bland. you didn't come to this estate with many things, and so you've tried to spruce up the space as much as you can, but aside from the few flowers and paintings on the wall, you fear it looks bland compared to everything else he's seen.

"and no," gojo adds, running a hand through his already tousled white hair as his arms crossed over his chest, and you finally allow yourself to stare at him, "that's not all i wanted to say."

he paused for a second.

"i don't know why i followed her out, or why i even stayed to hear her speak, but she kept saying these things about..." he trails off, gnawing on his lips as your eyes narrow slightly.

"me?" you finish for him, and his eyes dart to yours.

gojo nods a little bit, arms bulging a little bit as if remembering what she had said.

"i'm used to people staring at me, i lived with it my entire life. but with you, people..." he struggles to find words, "people stare longer. and i don't know why."

you raise a brow.

"do you want me to explain?" you say and he looks at you briefly, almost in a brazen way.

he shakes his head as if he had steered off track.

"that's beside the point. what i wanted to tell you is that she...she was saying some nonsense and i was about to leave until she offered for me to stay at the hostelry she was at." his blue eyes are wavering, his finger itching to get closer to you. this stupid bed is in the middle of you two and he wishes it were gone.

your breathing hitches a little bit, and you hope he doesn't see the sad tilt on your lips.

"so i banished her. or, well, i guess you saw her and then i banished her, but i would've done it regardless," he explains hurriedly, "look, i'm sorry...really sorry. if you want me to-"

"you banished her?" you cut him off, voice raised slightly in confusion.

his mouth gapes open for a second, and then blinks slowly, nodding.

"of...course," he tilts his head, his gorgeous head, slightly "you know that i am married, right? to you? she was offering to-"

"i thought you were going to tell me that you slept with her. o-or i don't know! that you were going to make her your mistress or something!" you spew out, your voice raised as you pace around the floor, moving a little bit closer to him as his eyes widen.

"why would you ever think that?" gojo says in a panicked tone, nothing like the man who commanded the northern army, but more like somebody who was watching his world burn in front of him.

"why?" you exclaim, shocked, "why? are you daft? every single woman wants to sleep with you! every single time we host those dinners, o-or we go to those parties, they look at you and they look at me and they pity you. i hear the whispers of the ladies, how they wouldn't mind being the other woman."

gojo hears the way your voice wavers, how your lips tremble, and the way you try not to let your bottom lip quiver. he sees the way you try to stay strong, to keep your image unbridled, but right now he feels like he's watching you break and he doesn't know what to do.

"so? what makes you think i'd do anything with them?" gojo argues, his voice raised a little bit, not in shouting, but in genuine disbelief.

you take a moment to step back and observe his behavior, and a nagging voice in your head tells you that he's telling you the truth. that he's concerned and worried, that maybe all he came to tell you tonight was an apology.

but that can't be correct.

so you sigh, your arms crossed over your chest protectively.

"i...i don't know," you murmur, "you sleep in another wing, you're always away. i thought...maybe..." you can't meet his eyes, fidgeting with the ring on your finger.

gojo takes a step forward, lips parted, cheeks rosy and flushed.

the two of you don't say anything for a minute, his chest heaving up and down. you feel like there's a weight both removed and added onto your shoulder.

"why didn't you say anything?" he whispers, "did you think...did you think i was...?" he can't finish the sentence, the words themselves too gruesome.

he doesn't say anything as he takes another tentative step closer.

you watch him, your eyes mirroring one another.

"i made a vow to you," his voice is heavy, traveling across the spanning stone walls, going deep into your bones, "and even if you prefer me to be your friend, i'll keep to that vow till the day i die."

your eyes gloss over, lips trembling.

you don't say anything, taking a couple steps forward as you smash against his chest, face crumpling against the stone wall of his torso as you hug him tightly, hoping that he can't feel the tears that seep through his nightshirt.

never in your life has somebody made a promise to you. and never in your life has somebody kept to that promise.

"thank you," you murmur, your voice muffled as his arms wrap around your body, steady and strong.

"and anyways, i'd prefer to be married to you than those miserable women any day," he mumbles into your hair and you laugh wetly, squeezing your arms tighter.

"really?" you say, tears blurring your vision.

"really," he hums, not able to say anything because he fears what you'd say if he told you that he'd rather be your husband and your friend. but he'd keep that inside, respecting your wishes.

if only he knew you wished the same.

[shawtuzi]

thinking about suguru and satoru eating your pussy at the same time heje

𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚 imagine them both between your thighs, staring hungrily at your dripping pussy before gojo breaks the ice and thumbs at your already sensitive clit

𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚 imagine geto soothing your little trembles by gently stroking your thigh, maybe even giving it a few kisses of encouragement <//3

𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚 imagine both of the men using one strong hand to push your plush thighs open, exposing yourself even more to them. if you dared try to shut your thighs even a tad they’d be pushed right back open, along with a quick slap the soft skin curtesy of geto

𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚 imagine the two friends bickering for a moment before geto finally caves and lets gojo have the first taste

𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚 imagine gojo wasting no time spitting on your clit before wrapping his lips around it, tongue immediately caressing your sensitive nub. he couldn’t decide between roughly sucking on the poor thing or moving his tongue side to side sooo he settles on both! he hollowed his cheeks, holding your clit in place while his tongue continued moving with vigor

𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚 imagine geto sucking on the soft skin of your thighs while his hand finds purchase on your bare breast, squeezing roughly every once in a while to keep you on your toes

𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚 imagine geto slowly kissing his way towards your center before nudging gojo’s head with his own, giving the man a cheeky smile

𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚 imagine both men looking up at you before—

“a-ah!!! oh my-” your back suddenly arched off the bed as you felt not one, but two hot tongues on your clit. one slowly moving up and down, like they were trying to savor the taste of your essence—not too hard or too fast….just sensual. the other tongue on the other hand settled on quick, harsh licks sooo basically the exact opposite.

“s’good right ?” gojo slurred into your pussy, now sloppily kissing his way down to your dripping hole. geto took this as an opportunity to cup your entire clit in his mouth, while his tongue drew soft circles around the nub. geto hummed around your clit, spit dribbling from his lips from the sloppy kisses he was giving your weeping pussy.

all it took was gojo shoving his tongue in your pussy for your back to arch slightly off the bed as you came with a loud, pathetic whine. gojo moaned just as loud when he felt your cum began to coat his tongue in little waves.

geto pulled away from your clit with an obnoxious pop! dark eyes admiring at the mess your pussy has already become. “lemme get a taste,” he mumbled, leaning his head down to lick a slow strip up your pussy. but one lick was not enough! and it wasn’t long before gojo got a little jealous and smacked geto on the back of his head, a small grunt leaving him.

“‘fuck was that for?” geto hissed, but gojo didn’t even bother glancing at him, his attention focused solely on your soaked center. his long fingers ran slowly up and down your petal soft slit, occasionally applying light pressure to your clit. without warning he plunged two fingers in with a lewd squelching sound following, “we’re supposed to be sharing don’t be so greedy, now let’s make her cum again.”

“j-just be gentle m’still a little— hah! sensitiveeee,” your request fell on deaf ears as both mens tongues were on your clit once again. they went from synchronized licks, to each giving your clit an open mouth kiss, to taking turns slapping your pussy.

you tried to keep your eyes on them but you could only handle so much before you head fell back against your bed, eyes rolling into the back of your head. “m’gonna put my fingers in sweet thing,” geto mumbled into your thigh, giving it a sweet kiss before plunging two fingers inside you. getos fingers began doing a scissoring motion, and to help you avoid the stinging stretch gojo sucked your throbbing clit in his mouth.

“i’m gonna cu-cum againnn, you’re gonna make me—” your body tensed as another orgasm washed over you, a much pleasing sight for the two men before you. “fuck she’s squeezing me real fucking tight, ease up yeah? gonna make it real hard for gojo to put his in too,” geto growled, curling his fingers in the most delicious way possible.

you whined something along the lines of ‘i’m tryinggg’ and gojo could’ve just ate you up the way you were being so cute. “hehe she’s so cute the way she’s trying to keep it together, just let go baby we’re right here to catch you,” gojo giggled menacingly, his two fingers slowly prodding at your entrance.

“don’t forget to go slow, don’t wanna hurt the poor thing now,” geto patted your thigh before giving it a sharp swat.

it took a little time to get you used to the stretch of four fingers inside your tight little pussy, but you managed like the good girl you were for them. “oh my fuckin’…” your mouth dropped as both men began to move their fingers at a semi-fast synchronized pace, digits bumping against that special that had your toes curling.

geto eyed your lonely breast and brought his free hand up to tweak at your nipple, gojo following suit. there was so much going on and your poor little brain could only handle so much before you were spluttering out nonsense making the two men chuckle.

“look at how wet she is….dripping all over the fucking bed,” geto groaned, pushing his aching erection against the edge of your bed. anything to find a little relief he’s only human. “she’s squeezing so tight i think she’s gonna cum again!” gojo moved his hand from your nipple to your clit, rubbing tight little circles that had your thighs trembling.

you weren’t able to give them a verbal warning of intense orgasm, the only signal being being the clear stream of cum shooting from your pussy each time they pulled their fingers out. “catch some, but don’t swallow,” geto grunted, shoving gojos head down to catch some of your squirt in his already watering mouth.

once you were done they both slowly pulled their fingers out, a small whine leaving your lips from the emptiness. geto turned to gojo, his breathing uneven. “you know what to do,” he nodded his head towards you and gojo quickly understood, slowly crawling up the bed to where you laid, glazed eyes staring up the the ceiling with a fucked out smile on your face.

“open your mouth for him,” geto grunted squeezing the plushness of your thigh. you obliged and slowly opened your mouth, quickly met with the tart, tangy taste of your cum mixed in with a little of gojos spit. geto hummed happily giving your tummy a soft kiss, “that was fun, messy but fun nonetheless.”

the next twenty minutes were spent catering to your every need ofc. gojo having you between his legs, long arms wrapped around your waist while geto gently cleaned the mess up between your thighs. “did so good for us angel, thank you for letting us indulge in you,” gojo smiled, giving your hip a loving squeeze.

they both had raging boners but in this moment it was all about you but hey!! maybe once your rested up you’ll let them put both their dicks in you!! but don’t tell gojo that rn he might bust in his pants the poor thing :((

[silverskyeline]

'look at me' 18+

oneshot - logan can't fuck like he used to, but you don't care. you get on top, gladly taking care of him in return. (2k words) pairing - logan howlett (logan 2017) x gn!reader tags: pre-established relationship, doggy style, penetration, dom!logan, reader rides logan, filthy talking logan, he talks you through it, rough, praise kink, cursing, mutual orgasm, choking, 'use your words', unprotected sex, creampie, sweet ending

logan can't keep up like he used to, but he still fucks you like a man possessed when he's able, like a rabid animal - hips bucking, muscles flexing, baring his teeth as he takes you.

his rough, calloused and scarred hands grip your waist, contrasting against your soft skin. that veiny length makes quick work of your needy hole, just like you wanted.

moments before, you'd teased him for the tent in his blue jeans. logan had cocked a smirk, that same signature smirk that always renders you weak at the knees as he began unbuckling his belt, taking his sweet time. you would wait, he knew you'd wait, you were good for him like that. the distinct sound of the clinking metal and the unsheathing of leather caused a shiver to run down your spine, a throbbing in your core. you needed him just as much as he needed you.

.・。.・���✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・.

it wasn't fair, how he could tell as soon as he entered a room just how much you wanted him. he could smell it, smell your arousal clear as day, he'd teased you about it so many times. the scent fills his mind every time, makes his cock twitch in his boxers, the need to have you almost overwhelming.

your soft wanting moans drift to his ears, one of his palms sliding up to the base of your spine as he keeps you firmly bent over on the bed, fucking into you with purpose. rough grunting spills from his lips, your head turning to catch his eye, watching as beads of sweat form on his forehead. chest rising and falling, logan grits his teeth.

"this what you wanted, huh?" he grunts, his sentence punctuated with a particularly harsh thrust that knocks the wind from both of you, "you wanted my cock? hm? just couldn't fuckin' help but tease and tease. . ."

you whine, gripping the sheets in front of you as the room fills with the lewd sound of skin on skin. he always liked it rough, plus - you'd known logan long enough to know how he liked to channel his anger into sex. and he was fucking good at it. you'd take it, again and again, as harsh as he wanted to give. because you knew that as soon as you were done, he'd be scrambling to pepper soft kisses along your neck, praising you for how good you'd been for him.

his thrusts falter, and you reach back to take his wrist in your hand in a comforting gesture. the harsh panting tells you all you need to know, his grip on you fading. but it's alright, you know how to take care of him, too. you tug at his wrist and after a brief moment of hesitation, he pulls out and lays beside you, looking almost defeated.

your hips find their home atop his and you nestle against him, slowly grinding back and forth on his length. his hands immediately search for your thighs, pawing at the flesh as he looks up at you. you drink in his expression, the way he's looking at you through his heavy eyelids, his scarred, sweaty bare chest rising and falling harshly.

"let me take care of you. . ." you whisper, your hands sliding up across the feverish skin on his chest, threading through the hair that grows there.

he licks his lips, attempting to protest "but i-"

"shhhh. . ." you shake your head, inching upwards to brush his leaking tip against your entrance and he hisses at the contact, "i said let me take care of you. . ."

you sink down on his cock, gasping as he fills you once more - at this point, you've memorised every vein on that thing. you love how he fills you so completely, how you almost, almost struggle to take him in all the way.

"fuck. . ." he huffs, his eyes fluttering shut as he grasps your thighs, sinking into the bed. he hates it, hates how fucking tired he gets nowadays. but damn if you don't look like the prettiest little thing bouncing on his cock like that.

and you want to comfort him, to let him know that it's okay. you'd ride him every night if he'd let you, but he always insists that he can do it, that he can still go as hard and as fast as he used to all those years ago. fast or slow, it didn't bother you, as long as you had logan, you'd be happy, content with even a passing glance from him in your direction.

"look so pretty up there. . ." he coos breathlessly, watching you bounce, his hand snaking up to rest on your stomach as he admires you.

you moan, tilting your head back - and he groans in response, dick twitching desperately, aching to fill you as his hips buck against your movements. he loves watching you ride him like this, watching as you take control, set the pace you want.

the rough hand on your stomach drifts upwards, finding its home around your neck, gently still. but even the soft grip has you reeling, gripping his wrist. you know he still wants to feel some control, that it wasn't because he was losing energy that he was on his back, no. . . it was a choice.

and you indulge him, working down over his cock with your tight hole, clamping around him as your hips meet his over and over. he's groaning, grumbling, eyes fluttering shut as he's lost in the way you take him.

"logan, look at me. . ." you whisper pleadingly, nails digging into his chest, fingertips tracing across the scars there.

immediately his eyes open to lock onto yours, and when he sees you? fuck, he needs more. he uses his grip on your throat to pull you down into a deep kiss, breathing heavily through his nose as his tongue delves into your mouth. you love how much more experienced he is than you, how he makes quick work of you every fucking time, has you a mess for him, opening up to him in every way you can.

"yeah. . . that's it. . ." he grumbles against your lips, kissing you with a fierce passion that borders on animalistic between words, "keep workin' that cock, keep bouncin', you're doin' so well."

you clench around him at those very words, unable to even think straight with his tongue shoved into your mouth and his cock stuffed deep inside you. he's taking you in every way you'll give yourself to him. even with him on his back and with half his energy he's still able to have you squirming.

and the praise, the fucking praise. logan knows just how to talk to you to make you melt. he'll fuck you roughly, desperately pumping his dick into you whilst whispering that you're the prettiest thing he's ever seen into your ear. he'll have you split in half with his thick arms hooked around your legs whilst telling you that you're so good for him, calling you sweet pet names that contrast his rough movements.

that voice of his, gravely, deep, rumbling. you can't think straight when he talks to you this way.

"such a sweet little thing," he groans, his hand on your thigh snaking around to give your ass a quick slap before grabbing a handful. light work for him considering the size of his hands - don't even get him started on what he likes to do with those. . .

you call his name, whimpering against his lips as you try to keep up with his kisses all while riding him. your mind is blank, slamming your hips down against him as he bucks up, meeting your thrusts - sending him deeper and deeper.

his hand on your neck traces along your skin to grip the back of your head, feeling as his digits spread across your scalp. "fuuuuuck," he groans, "can feel how tight you are, you're gonna cum, huh?" logan asks, though it's less of a question and more of a statement. he knows your body better than you do.

you nod, whimpering pathetically, inches from his lips.

eyes darting from your mouth, up into your gaze, he grins, "use your words, c'mon. i asked you a question."

"yes logan, yes, fuck- i'm gonna cum!" you cry out, tilting your hips as you chase that high he wants to give you.

with his mouth open, he pants, watching you above him with a keen fascination as your face contorts in pleasure. slowly, a smirk tugs at the corner of his lips. his favourite thing in the world is to watch you come undone around him, the way your eyes roll back, your pulse quickening under his fingertips.

"c'mon, c'mon, c'mon. . ." he growls, rutting into you from below, feeling as you spasm around his hard, girthy length, "if you cum, i'll cum nice and deep inside you, you'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"logan. . ." you whine, a clear yes. your head dips down to press against his shoulder, unable to keep yourself upright with the intensity of it all.

he chuckles and it's like music to your ears, loving those rare little noises of his - treasuring the sounds he makes while enjoying you.

both hands are back on your hips now, guiding you, slamming you down onto him as you gasp with each thrust, "c'mon. . . give me what i want, what we both want - make a mess for me."

his words hit you like a command, a call to arms - you will cum for him, make a mess of him and his sheets. you're calling his name into the skin of his neck as you cry out, feeling the orgasm beginning to tear through you.

and he can feel it, feel how you convulse and clamp down on his dick, causing him to gasp. he's moaning, groaning, words catching at the back of his throat as he tries to continue to talk you through it - but he can't. you're fucking him too good, he's gonna cum too.

ropes and ropes of white hot cum fill you, pushed deeper and deeper by his faltering thrusts as his dick twitches with each spray. you gasp, writhing against him as he holds you firmly in place, pulling you down one last time and holding you there as he empties into you completely.

you're whimpering, whining, body jerking as the intensity increases as you roll your hips, riding out the last of your orgasm until you're both left a panting, sweaty mess.

"holy fuck. . ." he whispers into the air, closing his eyes to centre himself, world spinning.

meanwhile, you can't even talk, can't even think about forming words, mind instead occupied with feeling his hot cum dripping out of you.

logan pets the back of your head, stroking your hair gently in an attempt to help you come back into the moment. he wants to thank you, but that's never been his strong suit. instead, he kisses the crown of your head, peppering kisses down along your forehead as he hooks his thumb and forefinger under your chin to bring your face closer to his.

he looks into your hazy, exhausted eyes, his own gaze full of love and appreciation. this is what he lives for - watching you bathe in the afterglow, being lucky enough to look into your eyes every day, being blessed enough to have you here like this.

you greet him with a sleepy, almost bashful smile.

he smiles too, and god, butterflies blossom deep within your stomach. you love him, you love him tired, you love him angry, you love him grumpy, you love him on his back, on top - whatever, you just love him.

"you're too good for me," he whispers as his lips find your forehead once more.

you know those words are his way of saying thanks, but you shake your head in protest, "stop that, not another word."

logan looks into your eyes, really looks at you, those soft hazel hues meeting your gaze. he simply smiles in silence as his hand drifts to your cheek.

the room falls into a comfortable silence, and you wonder how logan ever let you this close. but you don't care, all you care about is taking care of him.

and you will, for as long as he lets you.

[succubusvalentine]

Simon Riley who is obsessed with watching your pussy taking what she's given. CW : fingering, toys, mirrors, overstimulation, mentions of filming, Simon being gross.

Simon who loves to watch you finger yourself.

He loves to watch how your fingers were too small to give yourself the same amount of pleasure his could, how they barely seemed to stretch your cunt. And when he finally got his fingers inside you, he loved it even more.

He loved how your tight little hole tried to adjust to his stupidly thick fingers. How with every slide of his fingers your pussy just got louder and louder. He especially loved spitting on your hole and watching his spit slip inside you, then dribble out.

Then, Simon started sitting you in front of the floor length mirror in your bedroom. Between his thick thighs, with your back against his chest.

His cock throbbed in his jeans as he watched your reaction in the mirror to your cunt taking his fingers. How you squirm and whine trying to get away from the overstimulation. But his left hand had a death grip on your hip, keeping you in place.

"C'mon princess, y'can take it" is whispered in your ear as you orgasm again.

your pretty hole just takes your fingers so well princess! Your folds are so puffy and welcoming to Simon's fingers. Practically begging for them! How is he supposed to say no when your hole is begging him so sweetly?

And when Simon comes home early from a mission, only to find you on your bed wearing his sweater and moving a dildo in and out of your cunt? He goes feral.

Suddenly, your brute of a boyfriend is kneeling in front of you and pushing your legs as far apart as they'll go, so he can watch your cunt swallow the toy he was now fucking you with.

"Why weren't you recording this f'me, baby? Y'know I love t'see how your pussy takes what she's given" Simon growled.

And with all of this information, you really can't be that surprised when you come home from work to see Simon building a fucking machine in your living room. A proud smile on his face when he saw your shocked expression.

(and yes, there is a tripod with a high quality camera behind the machine so he can make sure he doesn't miss a thing)

(peep the accidental badjhur reference).

⛧°. ⋆𓌹♰𓌺⋆. °⛧

[whateveriwant]

Actually I'm not done talking about Mr. Simon Fucks-Himself-Stupid Riley just yet :(

I'm picturing a scenario where you, a civilian, are visiting your boyfriend at his base. Maybe you're there to deliver something, like a file he forgot at home or the lunch he said he didn't need. Either way, whatever your cover story for being there is, the end result is the same: you, on your back, knees up by your ears, sprawled across Simon's desk as he fucks you like his life depends on it.

Being a Lieutenant grants him the luxury of having a private office where he can engage in such extracurriculars, but that doesn't mean it's without some major risks – namely, prying ears that might be lurking in the hallway outside.

But being discreet shouldn't be an issue, should it? I mean, a man known infamously as “Ghost” should have no problem staying quiet, right?

Wrong.

Turns out, not only does that tight hole of yours reduce your boyfriend to a dumb, drooling mess, it makes him a dumb, drooling mess who can't keep his fucking mouth shut.

So while you have the wherewithal to clamp a hand over your lips to try muffling your lewd noises, Simon is out here moaning and groaning unabashedly like something sent forward in time from the Paleolithic. You could try asking him to cover his mouth, but it seems an impossible task; his hands are a little preoccupied with making sure he doesn't fuck you right over the edge of his desk.

While you don't want to stop, you also don't want to get caught, so you settle for urging him to keep it down. It's after a third softly gasped ‘N-Need to be qu-quiet, Si’ that your warning finally worms its way into his brain, and he acts in a way to appease you, just… not how you expect.

Swiftly, Simon removes his hold of your waist and brings one of his arms forward. He grabs for the center of his t-shirt, tugs the material up, and quickly stuffs the fabric into his mouth.

It only takes a split second for the action to happen, but immediately, you see how effective it is. The moment that standard, army-issued tee is captured between Simon's teeth, there's a drastic reduction of noise in the room.

Now, he can fuck into you with reckless abandon, and he snaps his hips forward with enough force to make your whole body ripple. Even as you pulse and constrict around him (sometimes inadvertently, sometimes not), the sounds that climb their way up Simon's throat are heavily dampened by his cotton gag.

It's as Simon begins the ascent to his peak that the cloth in his mouth really comes into play. As he pumps into you, he starts grunting lowly, gutturally, exhaling through his nostrils in quick, harsh bursts. It's a deep sound, animalistic in nature, like a bull huffing before it digs its heels into the dirt and charges.

His thrusts turn sloppier and sloppier the closer he nears his high, his hips propelled forward only by some basic hindbrain instinct. His lashes start to flutter, his eyes roll towards the back of their sockets, and when he cums, he throws his head back in a full-blown snarl.

Simon's a bit shaky on his feet after he climaxes in you, but he manages to pull out before he stumbles backwards, plopping down heavily into his chair. As you start cleaning yourself up, you see how he makes no attempt to move. He just sits there, completely brainless, pants around his ankles and t-shirt still tucked between his teeth. You have to walk over to him and purposefully tug on the shirt to get him to release it, and once it's freed, you see the damage that's been done.

In the center of Simon's shirt rests a big, blotchy wet spot, like he's tried to do his own slobbery take on the classic Rorschach test. The fabric's been wrinkled to all hell and there's a few imprints left behind from where his teeth had bitten down, and if you were to inspect the hem closely, you'd see where he popped a stitch or two in his ecstasy.

The sight of his mangled shirt has you tutting in disapproval. He can't walk out of his office looking like this, and he certainly can't forgo wearing a shirt altogether. What would the people around base say if they saw their normally put together Lieutenant looking so unkempt? You don't think he'd ever hear the end of it, nor would you for that matter.

In the meantime, as you wait for Simon's brains to un-liquify themselves, maybe you can scrounge up something else for him to wear. There's got to be something lying around here to help make him presentable once again. It's too bad as part of your cover you didn't think to bring an extra set of clothes to change into.

You'll have to remember for next time.

[fakebwitch]

need you

[rafe cameron x fem!reader]

summary: rafe woke-up from his sleep, he’s needy and you’re right next to him.

warnings: smut, dirty talk, praise, pnv, unprotected sex

rafe sighed heavily moving in bed, he tried to change side of the pillow but both were hot, and the fact that his cock in the boxers was hard didn’t help at all. he looked at the alarm on the bedside table next to him 2:46 a.m., it had been going on like this for almost an hour, he shifted his gaze next to him where you slept blissfully without having the slightest idea of what was happening next to you.

could he jerk off? yes of course, but at that moment it wasn’t his hand that he wanted, it was your pussy, feeling your wet walls sucking him inside and squeezing him was what he needed. he tried to restrain himself, not wanting to wake you up for some of his dirty pleasure but it was becoming unmanageable.

his gaze moved down, your back slightly arched while you slept on the left side, the little babydoll you were wearing had risen slightly making the base of your ass visible to his eyes. he cursed internally as you released small murmurs.

he groped his cock with his hand feeling the fabric of the boxers slightly wet from his pre cum. he turned sideways towards you, approaching so that his cock was against your ass, he released a choked moan at the sensation, his hand rested on the soft skin of your thigh slowly rising stopping with a firm grip on your waist. “babe..” his voice was low and hoarse, his mouths a few centimeters from your ear, his despair grew more and more as he slowly began to rub against your ass.

“baby wake up... I need you” his voice this time louder as you slowly began to come out of your state of sleepiness, you opened your eyes feeling his warm body pressed to yours, all you could see was black apart from a few glimmers of light coming from the window. “rafe...” you moved slightly, your mouth kneaded as your eyes automatically closed again, wanting your sleep back.

“what is it?” you managed to say, your eyes still closed while his hand was still firm on your body, you felt small grunts coming out of his lips while his hips moved slowly against your ass, looking for some kind of friction, his hard cock against the soft skin of your asscheek, “lemme take care of this” he whispered.

“I’m tired baby” you almost complained, but rafe didn’t seem willing to stop, “i know pretty girl, i’m gonna do everything ‘kay? you don’t worry about it” he insisted, you could feel the despair in his voice and seeing him in that state for you made you feel the same way. “be quick” you said moving your ass on him, a grin formed on rafe’s face as his arm moved under your body, grabbing your tit in his hand.

he quickly lowered his boxers, his hard cock came into contact with your ass, his tip red and swollen desperate to release. he raised the babydoll to your belly moving the pair of panties you were wearing to the side, his tip pressed against your wet entrance as his hand gripped your ass. he squeezed a hand around the length directing his tip to push inside your hot hole.

rafe entered inside you slowly making you feel every single inch of his length stretch you, you couldn’t help but moan at the sensation while rafe behind you did the same thing, loving the way you felt around him. “just made for me mhm? nice and warm ‘round me” he praised you, his eyes closed fully enjoying the feeling of being inside you, slowly pulling himself out and then pushing himself back inside you.

his thrusts were deep but slow, hitting the right spot making you bite your lip. “lemme take care of you baby, go back to sleep” he whispered in your ear, but you weren’t listening at all, your mind still sleepy while rafe used your pussy to get himself off, you weren’t sure if it was a dream or it was really happening.

“mhm faster” you said feeling his cock throb inside you and despite the state in which you found yourself you felt needy for more, “i got ya” rafe pleased you, his thrust faster as the room filled with the sound of his body slamming against yours, his cock came out and entered quickly inside your wet pussy.

you let out a loud moan as rafe’s hand moved towards your clit, his fingers applied the right pressure moving quickly on the bundle of nerves causing your body to tremble, your hand tightened onto the pillow.

“fuuck soo good” your voice choked by the various moans as rafe squeezed your nipple, you moved your arm back wrapping it around his neck, pushing him even closer to you than he already was. you turned your face to him to feel his lips, the kiss was messy and sloppy interrupted by your continuous moans. “that’s right baby, squeezing me so fucking tight can barely move in here” his dirty words did nothing but bring you even more to the edge, arching your back meeting the speed of his thrusts.

“you there baby? give it to me” rafe incited you leaving sloppy kisses on your jaw going down to the neck, he could feel how your body was shaking and how your pussy was tightening around him that you were about to reach your peak. “i’m so close rafe” you breathed feeling a weight forming in the lower stomach, his thrusts faster and faster helping you reach your orgasm.

“go on, cream all over my cock” his words did nothing but push you even more to the climax and with a loud moan you let yourself go, your hand tightened around the pillow while you released yourself on rafe’s dick. rafe’s hand tightened around your ass, his thrusts slowed down becoming deeper, he himself was approaching his orgasm.

“gonna cum in this pussy, fill you up so good” you whined at his words, his still hard cock abused your overstimulated pussy, you could feel every single vein of his length pumping inside you and you almost reached your second orgasm. “I want it rafe” you said desperately, your voice low and tired, the sleepiness had amplified after the orgasm and in a few seconds you would fall back into a deep sleep.

“yeah? Imma give ya every single drop” he reassured you, his words trembling as he felt himself getting closer and closer. “s-shiit... that’s it” his voice choked by a loud grunt, he stopped deep inside you while his cock covered your walls with his hot cum. you were now almost asleep when you felt his liquid fill you and his low grunts behind you, you unknowingly emitted a little whining at the sensation.

after a few more thrust he reluctant pulled himself out, he emitted another low grunt at the loss of the sensation of your pussy holding him so tight. while he was putting his dick back in his boxers he realized that your breath had become deeper, now completely asleep.

“did so good princess, i love you” he whispered leaving a sweet kiss on your shoulder.

[dmitriene]

continuation to this small work, cw: two freaks in love.

könig finds out you're kind of shy, a meek, pretty thing, sure, you send him such a revealing, unabashed polaroid pictures, but now, with him appearing out of nowhere at your door, giant and rugged, your fingers fiddle nervously at your own clothes, tugging down and trembling at your sides, wide eyes looking at the letter he holds in his gloved hand, from colonel, to you, name written by the way you already memorized, making you understand that it's really him.

the man you sent your nudes to, who would've know that he'd get so obsessed to try and find you like possessed dog, but you welcome him nonetheless, shuffling aside to let him in, bend his head down with a curl to his back so he would get past the doorway to your living room, dirty boots leaving a crumbs of dirt, his gear coated in things you don't want to know about, but his bright, unmovingly focused eyes look at you with a crinkle of delight, pupils could've dilate by now.

sure, könig is a little bit sad you didn't welcome him naked, or undressing at the very first sight of him, but he can work from what he got, from your shy touches when he wraps a hand around yours, for a handshake, that's it, but his by now ungloved, sandpapered fingers rub and circle around your wrist, curious, almost shuddering at the feel of your much smoother, gentle skin against his, and just this is enough to turn him on, cock swelling hard in his cargos.

he wonders if you'll let him bend you over the couch and eat your pussy from the back, or just stretch your pretty hole around his swollen cock, but you ask him questions, how he found you, why, does he wants something to eat, but könig already plans a small wedding for you two so he could make you his forever, an adorable housewife that will take care of her hard working husband with sending him pictures of her holes he could pump full after coming home.

könig tells you everything, how much times you made him cum, that he fantasized about you in any possible situation and position, dreamed of entering his quarters, and instead of a empty, boring room see you curled at his bed, his thumb tracing along your knee all the while he babbles your ears off with all disgusting, horny talks, but it's amuses you, to the point your thighs start to clench together, pressing harsh, as you lean in, watching his eyes nearly eclipse from the very little contact.

you put the letter he brought aside on the table, instead, asking your questions, and then answering his, which only contain of awkward, boyish laugh and stuttering words of if he looks the way you imagined, and könig is, a little bit awkward, in the same time cocky enough to touch you, nearly groping, looking enchanted on the outline of your breasts from beneath your sleeping shirt, before rubbing an sweaty hand against the back of his hooded head, such a silly man.

nearly jumps out of his pants when you offer him to take a bath at your place, voice mellowy and inviting, and könig trots behind you with a wagging tail when you lead the way, filling the bath full of warm water and couple drops of shower gel, making some bubbles that not really suit him, but would make the room smell nice and block out all that reeks out from him when he starts to undress, preening under your touch when you help to unclasp couple of things off his gear, könig holding down from to not shove your hand down his crotch.

it's when you join him that he gets insistent, all your shy act dropping down, your nails raking down the expanse of his toned, tissued back with tiny, reddening streaks, as könig corners you against the bathtub ceramic, moaning raggedly and humping your pussy persistently, messy, hips grinding and twitching, and the way he acts so eager and silly makes you really aroused, mewling right against his wet ear as he sloppily makes out with your neck, his hair and stubble rubbing all over your sensitive, bruised skin, sharp teeth's closing around the warmed flesh.

seems like now, you have a strange kind of boyfriend, a military colonel, a right pervert, and a pussy drunk pup that pumps your soppy, gummy cunt full of his thick, creamy release, one he kept in his balls especially for your meeting, his vision nearly blackening from how long his cock throbbed and spurted, squeezed tight by your pulsing, milking walls, enjoying your palms stroking his face, cooing at him hushed and lulling, everything könig dreamt of.

main masterlist. quidelines.

[moechies]

kinktober ⋆౨ৎ entry #2 ; size kink w shidou ryuusei .ᐟ

dear diary ♡,

ugh! ryuusei is so crude ! :( i want to act like a hate it, but he always catches on when i get nervous or shy at his antics and it’s soooo embarrassing! he knows me in and out (literally) especially when we’re havin’ sex. he’s running his mouth, always making fun of how wet aroused i get and how my ‘cunt clenches around nothing like a slut?!’ he doesn’t have to say it out loud… i can’t help but get so shy around him — my own boyfriend! is that so bad!? i think his physique also makes me nervous… >< ryuusei is so tall and so beefy ♡ he always catches me staring! i think he could launch me across the room if he wanted to! i better be careful…

“look at how small this pussy is compared to my dick. are ya gonna cry when i fuck this pretty pussy?” shidou hums, pressing his tip up against your chubby folds, and then comparing his cock against your tummy. a low whistle leaves his lips, accompanied by a cocky chuckle, watching the bulbous heap of his tip nudge against your belly button.

“s—shut up ryuu! y’r n-not that big..” you bite, words faltering when you realize the awfully dumb and bold statement that had unconsciously fallen from your lips. he quirks his head with a grin — it’s hilarious to hear you say that from below him, his body hovering over the entirety of yours and his hand damn near the size of your womb.

“that’s funny.” he gloats, sharp canines making an appearance when he flashes a smile. "you really think so?" his cock slips against your folds, folded upwards as he leans down besides you, hot breath felt in between the soft concave of your collar and jaw. you twitch when he gives your neck a soft nip, hot breath tickling the peachy thin hairs on the shell of your ear.

“y’r g’na see just how big i am when i fuck this pussy till it tears.”

he whispers into the shell of your ear, giving your neck another soft nip accompanied by a nibble from his sharp canines.

“go away! y’b—big fat brute.” you hiss weakly, ignoring the way your cunt clenches around nothing at his crude words. you look away, purposefully ignoring the heavy gaze set on your face to avoid his confrontation — putting up your strongest facade to avoid his humiliation. “look at me.” he growls, fingers pressed into your jaw to turn you to him.

you whine, small, shaky hands pushing weakly at his heavy chest, his skin soft and glowy to the touch after hours of being drenched in sweat. “what, y’scared?” he quips, laying his body down onto yours, enveloping you into his warmth.

he reaches his hand below to take yours into his, pressing a thumb into the apple of your palm before giving it a damp kiss. “give ryu a kiss.” shidou presses his lips onto yours at the same time his fat tip nudges in between your folds, prodding against the very hole he needs to be in -- you need him to be in. you feel his warm pre leaking into your slit, dirtying your slit.

he’s amused at the way you whine into his mouth, trying so hard to wriggle away under his heavy weight and push him away again — but he knows how much you love this. how much you love the power he holds over you, and how easily he can have you under him with a sleazy kiss and a few rubs to your little pussy. “don’t be scared, doll.” he mumbles against your lips.

you hate the way he chuckles when you moan into his mouth, your nails digging into his bicep when he attempts to shove his way in. “ryuusei,” you cry, throwing your head bad when you feel the bridge of his cock head fully enter your swollen pussy — your warm folds enveloping him so perfectly, yet wanting to resist him at the same time -- it makes him dizzy. “big, t—too big, help—“

“but y’r takin’ me so perfect. it can't be too big, sweet thing.” shidou thrusts gently, and oh -- you feel every single fucking inch of him. the way his slit drags against your velvety walls, and the scattered veins decorated on the first mere inches of his shaft. every single hump of his prettily decorated cock -- you feel everything.

“don’t,” you cry, feeling the tip of his cock fucking against your walls ever-so slowly. “i’ll cum!”

“on my fuckin’ tip?” he lets out a boasty laugh, pace quickening despite the shaft of his cock you’ve yet to take. “you’re not good at this, doll.”

“no,” you mewl, breaths heavy as you pant. his hand reaches under your tank top, pulling at your pert nipple — sucking it though your thin shirt. his saliva coats the fabric, seeping through to your areola as you twitch incessantly. "wan' cum, cum--"

"stupid, stupid girl. y'braindead on my fuckin' tip? d'ya even have anythin' going on inside that little head of yours?"

"ryuu, ryuu--"

"yeah," he drags out, mumbling against your tit before giving it a mean nip. he urges his hips further against yours, pushing in more cock than you had been anticipating and it makes you scream--

"ryuu--! f-full, s'full, please,"

he knows how hard this is on his sweet girl -- way to much for her and her pliant little body to bare. that's what makes this so fun, so damn great.

"hey . . this little body was made f’me, ‘s i’m gonna need you to act like it ‘nd take it, c'mon. endure it, my doll." he growls, huge arms wrapping under and around yours, pinning you tight against the soft mattress. he envelops your body with a swift grasp, completely hidden under his grasp as if he were protecting you from everything else that has ever existed ever -- like a maternal bear would her cub. you yelp, throwing your head back under his hold as he presses further into your pussy mercilessly, tuning out your cries and whines for him to slow. "fuckin' mine. mine, all mine."

"n'more!" you cry out in stutters, feeling his plump, damp balls press against your ass, cunt stretched beyond belief with little thought left in your head. your folds are spread impossibly wide, struggling to endure all of the man as you warm him. "fuck, shit. w'na stay with my girls forever. just like this." he hisses, pressing a fervor kiss to your lips. he cracks an eye open, met with your low-lidded ones, pupils heavily dilated.

your drowning in each other's sweat, your entire bodies clad against one another. it's so damn hot you might fucking explode -- your remnants would consist of a million beating hearts dedicated to your boyfriend--

"'m the only one that'll ever make you feel like this. don't forget that, dumb fuckin' girl."

[not-neverland06]

n a s t y d o g I logan howlett x fem!mutant!reader

One-shot A/N: I've never felt this way about a fictional character before. Every gif I see of him has me gnawing and biting at the bars of my enclosure. I want to bite him. If Hugh Jackman ever discovered what thoughts lurk inside my rotted brain about him he'd get a restraining order. This isn't OKAY Anyways... Summary: You'd thought you'd had a good thing going with Logan. You weren't officially anything to each other, but you were getting close. You truly saw a future with him, but he made it incredibly clear he did not feel the same 18+ HATE FUCKING (MDNI)

(one chance please, just one chance with him)

“Are you sure this isn’t totally clingy girlfriend of me?”

Ororo gives you an irritated look and Jean laughs. “Not at all, Scott loves it when I surprise him like this.” You’re all huddled in your room, each of you in varying stages of getting ready. Jean is finishing off her eyeliner at your vanity, Ororo is putting on her boots, and you’re trying to decide between a skirt and a dress. 

You’re not entirely sure how, or why, Logan and Scott decided to go to the bar together tonight. You suspect it has something to do with Jean. She wants them to start getting along so there’s less friction when you’re all around each other. 

At Jean’s idea, Logan had muttered, “When hell freezes over,” in your ear before he had left for the night. You’d gotten a little antsy without him to entertain you and had mistakenly blurted out the idea of going to visit them. Ororo had been dying to get out of the house and Jean was a little worried about her boyfriend as well. They’d agreed to go along with you and you’ve felt a weight in your stomach ever since. 

Your relationship with Logan was relatively new. Hell, a month ago you’d thought he’d hated you the same he did Scott. You’d, of course, been proven wrong when you’d had a few drinks with him and things had taken a very physical turn. 

You weren’t sure if he’d just wanted a one-night stand or something serious. But when you’d tried to sneak out the next morning and he’d muttered a grumpy, “Where’re you going?” You’d gotten your answer. 

You hadn’t been on any real dates, there didn’t ever seem to be time for them. But you spent most of your days together. Sometimes just silently enjoying each other’s company, other times you would be holed up in one of your rooms cuddling. The thought always brings a stupid lovesick grin to your face. 

It’s one of your first real relationships and you’re worried that things are moving a little too fast. At least on your end. You can already tell that you’re falling for him. Headfirst into the deep end of love. And it’s terrifying because you truly cannot tell what he thinks about you. Clearly, he likes you. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t let you follow him around like a lost puppy. 

But he’s never truly said anything to you. There’s no official label as to what you two are. You say girlfriend off-handly and you usually don’t mean it when you reference yourself. You’ve never outright said he’s your boyfriend and he’s never really claimed you. He’s made it explicitly clear he doesn’t want you sleeping with other men, and you’ve said the same to him about women. You both agreed on that, but…

You kind of drive yourself crazy trying to figure this out. He’s not vocal about his feelings and everything’s still new so you don���t like pressuring him. You also worry that if you push him too far he’ll just get tired of you and move on. It’s not fair to assume that of him, and you know everything would be better if you just talked to him. But you’re scared. You’re scared the conversation will take the wrong direction and everything will blow up in your face. 

Jean calls your name and your head shoots up to see both Ororo and Jean looking at you expectantly. You flush when you realize they must have been talking to you and you’d just completely zoned out thinking about Logan. 

“Huh?” You blurt out, cringing at how dumb you sound. 

Jean gives you a concerned look, “I can practically taste your anxiety.” The telepath frowns and offers you a comforting smile. “Don’t worry about it, I promise, Logan won’t mind at all.”

“You’re fine,” Ororo adds, because clearly the look on your face screams, I need constant validation. They’re not wrong, but still, you hate feeling like an exposed bundle of nerves. “Think of it as girl’s night, the boys just happen to be there.” 

You force a smile on your face and give your most enthusiastic nod. You change into the dress and finish up with your hair. You finally start chatting with them again, engaging so it might disguise just how nervous you feel. 

There’s this clenching feeling, traveling from your stomach up to your chest. It makes you sick, makes you hurt. And it’s not because you think Logan will be upset with you for crashing. He’d be relieved, if anything. There’s something else. Premonition isn’t one of your abilities, but you’re seriously starting to doubt that now. 

The bar is loud when you walk in. The soles of your shoes immediately start to stick to the floor and your nose screws up in disgust at the loud laughter coming from around the pool tables. You glance around, trying to see if you can spot Logan. 

You’d say you could spot him in any crowd. But has a propensity to hunker down and try to attract as little attention as possible so people don’t bother him. “There he is,” Jean taps your shoulders and points to the two men at the end of the bar. 

Like you’d thought, Logan is hunched over his whiskey, glowering down at the wood under him like it had insulted him. You almost want to laugh at the sight. Some of the earlier anxiety eases its grip on you and you feel your shoulders begin to untense. 

Before you can walk over Ororo grabs Jean’s wrist. “Gotta go to the bathroom,” she tugs Jean behind her. 

Jean looks over her shoulder at you and smiles encouragingly, “Go to them, we’ll catch up in a second.” You give her a tentative nod and slip through the crowd. There are more people here than you thought there would be. 

You’re happy not to spot any kids in the crowd. You’ve had a few too many nights out crashed by kids who thought they were good at sneaking out. 

It’s easy enough not to spot you or the other women in the crowd. Mutants have gotten good at blending in with the people around them. Makes it easier to get around. It’s probably why neither Logan nor Scott stop their conversation as you approach. “So,” Scott draws the word out, fingers tapping against the glass of his beer. 

“Don’t,” Logan warns. You want to laugh at his grumpy demeanor, but someone’s accidentally elbowed you and you find yourself stumbling a few steps back. It’s taking entirely too long to get to them, the bar isn’t even that big. There’s just that many people here. 

Scott ignores him and rolls his eyes. “Look, we’re stuck here for a while. Try and pull that stick out of your ass.”

“How about I put one in yours?” Logan’s claws come out slightly. But then they both share an odd look and Scott smirks. “Shut the fuck up,” Logan grouses, “not like that.”

“Right,” Scott huffs out a laugh and shakes his head. He picks up his bottle and takes a long drink. You’ve nearly reached them now. You stop, though, when you hear Scott say your name. You shouldn’t, you really shouldn’t. Eavesdropping now is just asking to get hurt. 

You drop back into the crowd, hoping the smells of others will stop Logan from discovering you lurking behind them both. Scott continues, “How’s that going?”

You crane your neck forward, trying to hear them better over the karaoke happening behind you. Someone is butchering Britney Spears but you couldn’t care less right now. Logan shouldn’t answer. Since when has he ever shared anything with Scott?

So, imagine your surprise when his answer isn’t immediately telling him to fuck off. “Eh,” he shrugs, downing the rest of his whiskey. Your face drops in irritation. Seriously, all this skulking around for an Eh? That’s bullshit. 

You keep yourself from stepping forward, forcing your feet still, and ignoring the little voice in the back of your head telling you this is a bad idea. You’ve committed this much, you’re seeing it through. Scott whistles lowly, “That bad, huh?” Oh, fuck off, Summers. 

Logan shakes his head and for a moment you have a brief feeling of hope lifting you up. “Nah, not bad. It’s just, I don’t know.” Logan sits up and signals the bartender for a refill. Your snooping senses go off and you briefly see Ororo and Jean exiting the bathroom. Desperate for something to keep them at bay, you flick your wrist. The man in front of them tips his drink down Jean’s shirt, slurring out apologies. Jean huffs and Ororo brings her back into the bathroom. 

Scott and Logan somehow missed the whole interaction and you promise yourself that you’ll pay for Jean’s dry cleaning. You’re definitely not going to. “Think she wants something I don’t,” Logan tells Scott, and your heart plummets to your feet. You can practically see it deflate, all the lovesickness draining out of it and onto the floor of this grimy bar. 

“Like, she just wants to fuck around?”

Logan shakes his head and downs another glass of whiskey. He’s just swallowing it down like it’s water. At a certain point, the bartender gets sick of it and just leaves him with the bottle. “No, she wants something real. Like a real relationship.” Scott’s brows furrow and Logan shrugs. “Not interested.” 

It’s the way he says it that really bothers you. There’s nothing wrong with wanting something different in a relationship. It happens all the time. But he says it so dismissively. He knows that you want something real with him, something secure and loving. He knows that, continues to fuck you and lead you on, and then speaks as though you’re an idiot for ever being interested in that. 

Hurt hasn’t set in yet. You’re staring wide-eyed, jaw agape with shock as you stare at Logan’s back. You’d thought a conversation needed to be had. But you didn’t think that he thought of you like this. You’d thought you meant something to him. 

Scott seems to share the sentiment, his lips tugged down into a frown. He leans against the bar, surveying Logan with a disbelieving look. “What?” Logan snaps.

Scott raises his hands in surrender, shaking his head and backing off. “Nothing, man, I just thought you two were serious about each other.” You miss whatever Logan says as an arm slings itself around your shoulder. 

“What’re you doing?” A husky, seductive voice whispers against the shell of your ear. You jump in shock, glaring at Ororo as she grins at you. She lets her arm slide off your shoulders and glances over at Jean. “I think she was spying.”

Jean nods, nudging you forward. “Definitely spying. Hear anything good?”

You fortify your mind against her probing fingers before she can find out. “Nope,” you blurt out. You hope the racing of your heart is dismissed by your constantly frazzled nature. You hope the look on your face is explained by your earlier boredom and anxiety. You pray that none of them notice the way you lean away from Logan when the men finally turn around and notice you all. 

Scott breathes out a dramatic sigh of relief and slumps onto Jean. “Thank god, I thought I was going to die trying to talk to this brick wall.” his eyes flick towards you in a blink-and-you-miss-it moment. There’s a brief pitying look before he grins. “Come to get your boyfriend?” There’s a heavy emphasis on the word that you never would have noticed had you not heard their conversations. 

It’s clearly a petty dig at Logan. And you would appreciate it if you didn’t feel the sudden urge to vomit up your dinner. “Thought you might need saving from Logan.” You tell him, a chuckle hiding the slight tremor in your voice. 

You’re not sure if he does, but you hope Logan notices how you avoided the word boyfriend. You hope that he hurts the same way you do. But you know, deep down, that he doesn’t care. He’s probably relieved that you didn’t use the title. 

Logan gets off his stool, he wraps his arm around your shoulder, and pulls you into a brief hug. His lips press against your temple before he dips down to whisper, “Thank you,” in your ear.

Asshole, he’s not allowed to smile at you the way he is. If you weren’t in such a crowded place and already overstimulated, you’d shove him away. If your friends weren’t watching you’d take his arm and slam it down onto the bar until you hear his fucking adamantium bones break. 

That might have been too far. Maybe you’re not that angry, but you’re hurt.

You place your hands against his chest, a thin smile on your lips while you hum a simple, “Mhm.” He doesn’t seem to notice the way you push away from him. It’s easily dismissed by you cheekily stealing his seat at the bar. 

He comes up behind you, hands bracketing you and keeping you stuck against the bar while you order your drink. One of his hands drifts down, laying against your thigh. You know this isn’t sexual, this is him comforting you. 

He shouldn’t know how horrible you feel in such busy places. He shouldn’t know that and know that his touch is grounding and then help you. Not if he doesn’t want something serious. If he didn’t want to be your boyfriend, didn’t want to be anything but a fuck, then why do this to you? Did he not think this was leading you on? Is this just him caring for you?

You’ll drown in a sea of unanswered questions before the night is over if you linger too long. You tip your head back, let your shot burn its way down your throat, and turn towards the others with a smile. You feel your worries fade and your focus loosen as you simply drift further into your mind. 

You must have disassociated or something. By the time you realize you’re no longer hearing bad karaoke and your elbows aren’t sticking to the bar, you’re already home. You stare in the mirror, hand pausing as you brush your teeth before you quickly finish. 

You didn’t drink much, you never do. It fucks with your abilities and causes migraines. You rinse your mouth out and glance into your bedroom. Logan groans and stretches. His back bows, muscles flexing and you rip your eyes away. You can’t let yourself be distracted by the chest you want to drape yourself across. 

You need to talk to him. It’s never been more clear. You wipe your mouth and toss the towel onto the rim of the sink. You take in a deep breath, trying to get rid of the nerves plaguing you. It’s never worked before, it’s not going to suddenly cure you now. 

You give up on the thought and instead, shove down the anxiety until you have enough confidence to speak. It takes a little while, Logan peaks an eye open, eyebrows quirked when he sees you just staring at him. “Something up, bub?” he flexes, on purpose, and you roll your eyes. You grab his shirt out of your hamper and toss it at him. 

“Put this on. Can’t think when you look like that.”

He chuckles, “That’s the point.” at your pointed glare his smile drops and he tugs the beater on. It barely does anything to deter you. If anything you’re having more trouble paying attention. Especially now that his full attention is on you. The humor is gone from the room, a thick tension replaces it. Logan seems to feel it, sitting up straighter and glaring at you like he’s trying to read your mind. “What’s wrong?” It’s a demand more than a question. 

It’s hard to look at him. But you refuse to let yourself cower now. You take in a fortifying breath and let your gaze bore into his. You put all the hurt and anger you feel into it, willing yourself to be firm. “We need to talk.”

“‘Bout what?” He’s brusque, but there’s a slight concern to his tone. 

There’s no point hiding this. And maybe you had misheard, maybe there was a conversation prefacing the one you’d heard. And you’ll talk it out and everything will be okay. “I heard you and Scott talking at the bar.”

The hope you had, as minimal as it was, is dashed at your feet. He sucks in a deep breath and the look on his face has you crestfallen. You can feel your chest cave in. You feel so stupid all of a sudden. Constantly following after him, even before you started dating him. Looking at him with stars in your eyes and latching onto his every move and word. 

You’d worshiped him, put him up on a pedestal he didn’t deserve. Superhuman or not, at the end of the day he was still a man. And they’ve done nothing but disappoint you. You suck your teeth, gaze dropping to your feet as you fight back the tears in your eyes. “Right,” you whisper, stepping back from him. 

“Look,” he starts. You force your eyes up and watch as he rubs uncomfortably at the back of his neck. He takes a step towards you and you shake your head, stepping away from him. His arms fall to his sides and he sighs. “Sorry,” he mutters.

“That’s it?” You demand, tone incredulous. You weren’t some great love or anything. But that’s seriously all he has to say.

He opens his mouth, eyes softening as he stares at you. Then he snaps it shut, something covers his face and his expression is borderline cruel as he sneers at you. “Not my fault you got in over your head, kid. Never said I wanted anything more with you.” He points at you, and you suddenly feel like a little girl getting scolded. You’ve never had a partner make you feel this small, especially not Logan. “You were just convenient.”

You rear back like he slapped you. You think it might have hurt less than that. To know you wasted so much time on such a fucking dick makes you want to throw up. Or scream, or cry. You can’t decide on one. But your powers can, the walls are shaking, knick-knacks falling off your shelves as energy pulses from you. 

You’ll face the hurt, the sadness, the horrible ache of rejection later. Right now, you need him out of your face before you bring the whole mansion crumbling down around you. “Out.” You grind the word out, turning away from him and clutching your hands to your chest. You take in quick, rapid breaths, trying to think of anything other than how horrible you feel. 

You haven’t lost control like this in a long time. You’re not going to give him the satisfaction of being the reason you get put on probation again. He whispers your name, coming up behind you like he’s going to touch you. 

You want to lash out, want to hurt him like he’s hurt you. But you’ll only cause more damage than necessary. He’s not worth hurting the kids in the rooms around you. You shove past him, ignoring the way he shouts your name. 

You dart out into the hall, grateful there are so few people milling around. Nearly everyone’s asleep, just a few stragglers finishing up their homework for tomorrow. A few of them give you odd looks that turn concerned when they see Logan chasing after you. Your bones are practically vibrating by the time you make it outside. 

You rush towards the grove of trees at the back of the mansion. Your knees give out under you before you can make it very far. Energy pulses out of you in an explosive circle. You hear bark crack and turn into nothing but dust as the air around you trembles. 

It’s a relief, like going to the bathroom after holding it all day. You feel it drain away from you, a plug pulled out as the energy rushes from you. It slows after a minute, feeling more like a leak than a steady stream. 

Your hands shake by your sides as you lay trembling on the grass. Your eyelids flutter shut and you try and keep them open but it’s hard. All of your energy had been spent keeping yourself in check until you made it out of the mansion. 

“I’ve got you,” a voice mutters near your ear. Familiar strong arms dip under your knees, lifting you up and pulling you into a sturdy chest. You recognize the body, recognize the uncomfortable warmth coming from him. But your tongue won’t work and you're passing out before you can try and push him away. 

You’re in your own bed when you wake up again. You’re briefly comforted by the warm feeling of the sheets around you before you realize how cold the other side of the bed is. You’re so used to the feeling of someone being beside you that it’s jarring for no one to be there. You sit up, a spark of anxiety lighting up inside you before it’s being quelled by an outside force. 

“I think it’s best if we keep that under control.” You’re not surprised to hear Charles’s voice. You can’t be, not when he’s actively keeping you calm and placid. You lean back against your headboard. You tilt your head lazily, looking at him while he looks out the window. 

“That tree was a hundred years old.”

You wince, face screwing up when you remember the large oak tree you obliterated last night. “I can remake it,” you promise. 

“You could,” he corrects, “but whatever happened last night between you and Logan is causing your powers to be volatile.” He finally turns towards you, the motor of his wheelchair a dull buzz as he smiles at you. There’s no resentment in his gaze at least. You’d known he wouldn’t be mad at you. He was used to accidents like this. Had you hurt another person, however, this would be an entirely different conversation. 

There’s a dull ache in your chest at the mention of Logan, but it’s quickly covered by another wave of calm from Charles. He smiles and holds out two metal bracelets. They’re thick, something red inlaid into the black metal. They look like handcuffs more than anything. His lips quirk up at your thought and you frown. 

“That’s what they are, right? Cuffs.”

“You’re not a criminal,” he assuages, his tone gentle as you take them from him. There’s a small silver button inside that you click and the metal springs open. You place your left wrist inside and it snaps shut, it’s a snug fit. It won’t be moving around anytime soon. You put the right one on and feel Charles’ hold on your mind ease the second it's closed. Every horrible feeling from last night crashes down on you and you nearly choke on it. 

You wonder how Charles managed to keep you asleep for so long without the roof crumbling. He chuckles, the noise tired. “Jean helped me. It took a while for the cuffs to be ready.”

The way he says that causes alarms to go off in your head. “How long?” He takes in a sharp breath and shakes his head, attempting to dismiss the question. “Charles,” you snap, voice bordering on a shout. 

“Two days,” he says. You gasp and slump back against your sheets. He says your name but you get to your feet and pace. You don't know what to do with yourself. There’s energy buzzing under your skin, but the cuffs are keeping it at bay. It feels wrong like your pores are being clogged with acid. 

“Two days.” You look over at him, horror painting your face and you can see why he was so apprehensive to tell you. “It’s never been that bad before.”

“No,” he starts cautiously, “It hasn’t. Which makes me wonder, what transpired between you and Logan that destroyed my grandfather’s tree?” 

You cringe at the mention of the tree. He’s never going to let go of that. Even when you recreate it, he’s still going to hold it over your head. His teasing eases you out of the spiral you were heading down and you glance over at him. “You’ve been in my head for two days. I’m sure both you and Jean already know.”

He smacks his lips together and shrugs, clasping his hands in front of himself. “Simply seeing if you wanted to discuss it, my dear.”

You vehemently shake your head and sit back down on your bed. “No, I don’t want to talk about him. I don't want to see him.” Charles gives you a look like he doesn’t believe you and you hate it. You truly don’t want to see Logan again. Just thinking about him makes you want to explode. He was a pig and you regret ever wasting your time on him. 

There’s a shriveled part of your heart weeping somewhere, but you crush in your fist until it shuts the fuck up. “Right,” Charles nods. “I do believe it’s best for your recovery that we keep you two separated for a while.” He rolls past you and places a comforting hand on yours. “Rest, you’ll feel more like yourself soon.”

You nod and watch him leave. Exhaustion suddenly seems to drop its heavy weight on your shoulders. Two days being restrained by telepaths probably wasn’t very restful. You lay across your comforter, rolling over and hoping when you wake up your heart will be healed. 

Two weeks. Two pathetic, snot-filled, and disgusting weeks of sobbing over Logan. You felt like a sixteen-year-old again, crying over the boy that didn’t like you back. It was awful, especially knowing that the entirety of the mansion knew what was wrong with you. 

Your students would leave your class and you would lock your doors, hiding under your desk as you wept. Those with superhearing or telepathy would bake you cookies and leave gifts at your door. It was sweet, but honestly made you feel ten times worse. You felt like your sadness was a burden you were forcing everyone to carry. 

Your mother would be so disappointed in you. She’d always told you that you mourn a relationship half the amount of time you were in it. Of course, hers never lasted more than a few weeks. And she’d had more boyfriends than you could count on three hands. 

Besides, you were allowed to wallow for a while. This was someone you were starting to fall for. To be so blind going into and leaving the relationship was awful. Having the rug ripped out from under you had been cruel and needless. You’re resentful and grateful he’d been so horrifically honest with you. On one hand, if the relationship had just ended, you’d be pining after him. Wondering what you’d done to lose such an amazing guy. 

But being faced with the brutal truth, knowing he was a piece of shit, it makes you hate yourself. You should have seen it. Should have known that he didn’t want you like you wanted him. But there were never any signs. You’d run it through your head a million times. Every interaction you’ve ever had with him. None of it shows you where he’d been lying to you or using you. You can’t even trust yourself anymore. 

There’s a loud knock on your door and you sniffle, tossing another tissue in the trash as you go to answer it. “Hello?” You croak. You can barely see, eyes puffy and so swollen your vision is blurry. 

“Holy hell,” Ororo scoffs and shakes her head. She pushes into your room and slams the door shut before anyone can see how awful you look. To be fair, you keep yourself relatively put together during the day. But it’s after hours now, you’re allowed to be a mess. 

“You look like shit.” 

Neither of you are prepared as you begin to blubber. Your lips tremble and your voice shakes as you begin to sob. “I know,” you wail. “I hate it.” Ororo’s eyes widen in horror and she quickly pushes you into your desk chair, grabbing a box of tissues and shoving it in your hands. 

“I feel,” you stutter, having to take in a few shuddering breaths before you can get the words out. “He tore out my heart and ripped it up with his stupid fucking claws.”

“Okay, okay,” Ororo runs her hands over your arms, trying to soothe you. “I know, sh, it’s okay.” She groans, “Stop crying,” she pleads under her breath. 

“I’m trying!” You snap at her, running hands over your wet cheeks and trying to swallow down the rest of your tears. 

“Look,” she steps back and shakes her head. She glances down at you, disgust poorly hidden on her face. She’s really fucking bad at comforting someone. “This is awful, I can’t take it anymore. You two keep dancing around each other and you’re putting everyone on edge. You won’t stop crying and he keeps going off,” she holds her hands up and shakes her head. “I just can’t do it anymore.”

You frown, brows turning down in confusion. “What?” You didn’t think Logan would be mad. You pictured him skipping through a field of daisies, happy to finally be rid of you. It only made you hate yourself more that you were still crying over it all. 

“He’s kind of losing it,” she seems reluctant to relent the information. “Look,” she kneels in front of you and snatches the tissue box from your hand. She tosses it to the side and forces you to meet her eyes. “He’s in love with you. We all know it, Jean’s confirmed it. He loves you, he needs you, he’s just terrified to admit it. He’s afraid of what's going to happen if you two become real.”

Your eyes widen with the realization. She nods enthusiastically as you connect the pieces. You can’t deny what’s so plainly laid in front of you when she assures you that even Jean knows. Jean knowing means she just did a nosy dive into his head. 

You can picture what could happen. With rom-com levels of nauseating romance, you run to find him. You tell him you don’t care that he’s afraid. You don’t care he pushed you away and you do love him. He’s not going to lose you. Nothing can rip you apart. You ride off into the sunset on Scott’s bike blah blah blah. 

This isn’t a fucking romance. And you’re not going to cry over a man who's too much of a pussy to admit he has feelings. You like men who have emotional depth deeper than a teaspoon. “Are you fucking kidding me?"

Ororo’s face blanches and she slowly backs away from you as you stand. “No,” she answers slowly, like she’s not sure of herself now. 

“That’s what I’ve been crying over?” You feel upset for an entirely different reason. You never misread the signs. You never missed a hint that he didn’t feel what you did. He did! He was just happier letting you doubt yourself and the love you held for him than admitting he felt something. You tear off the depression hoodie you’ve been living in for the past two weeks. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!”

You don’t know where you’re going. Normally, you’d run into a forest to let out a blast of energy. It drained you enough that you wouldn’t have to feel anything. But with these cuffs on, you can’t do anything. 

You storm out of your room and stomp down the stairs, uncaring who you wake up. You’ve wasted so much time on Logan, you refuse to stay in your room and cry for another fucking night. 

“I want to see her,” Logan growls. He tries to move around Charles, but he stops him with his mind, holding him in place while Jean disappears inside your room. Logan watches her go and glares at her retreating back as the door closes behind her. 

It’s been a day already, you’ve never needed to be out for more than a few hours. He doesn’t want to think that there’s anything wrong with you, that he might have permanently broken something inside you. 

That talk at the bar with Scott had been stupid. He would have said anything to get him to shut the fuck up and leave him alone. He didn’t really mean what he said, he just wanted him to back off. And saying that your relationship wasn’t anything was quicker than pouring out every thought he’s had of you. 

It was easier lying than it was to admit just how much he wanted you. Just how far he would go for you. But then you’d overheard, and you brought it up. And there’d been faith on your face. Like even you couldn’t believe what he had said because you could see through the bullshit. 

But all Logan had seen was a way out. This was an opportunity to finally get out of the suffocating clutches of something he didn’t want to admit was love. He took the chance before he could think. It’s what he was used to. Taking the easy way out, especially when it came to shit like emotions. 

He hadn’t thought you were going to explode, though. Because that’s exactly what you’d done. By the time he’d caught up to you, you’d burned a crater into the ground and had destroyed Charles’ stupid fucking tree. 

Seeing you like that, laying there lifeless, it terrified him. He didn’t want to live in a world that you weren’t in. There was no fucking point. It was sobering, realizing that, and then realizing that he was the reason you were like that in the first place. 

He didn’t want to live without you and he certainly would never be able to come to terms with being the reason you were dead. But it didn’t matter, whatever realizations he was coming to. Charles and Jean were completely blocking him from your room. They weren’t even giving him a chance to look at you. And he was about five seconds away from ripping the old bastard’s head off and just barrelling inside. 

He didn’t care what they said, he needed to see that you were okay. “I’m afraid you’re not going to be able to see her for a very long time.”

“Stay out of my head,” Logan growls, glaring down at the man. “What are you talking about?” He presses, finally processing the rest of his sentence.

Charles sighs and rolls away from him. Logan glares at his back but ultimately follows. “You were the cause of this, yes?” Reluctantly, Logan nods, there’s no point in hiding it. He’s sure Charles already knows. “For her own safety, the two of you will need to remain separated.”

That had been it. There was no arguing about it. No fighting Charles. It was for your safety that he stayed away from you. No matter how much he wanted to explain himself, he wouldn’t risk another meltdown like that. 

You didn’t deserve to get hurt because of someone like him. He wouldn’t be able to stand hurting you again. 

But two weeks seemed like a lot. At a certain point, he’s sure you’re just avoiding him. He knows he can’t blame you. He’d been a fucking idiot. But that didn’t make him any happier. If anything, he was getting more and more pissed off every day. 

He had less patience for mistakes. Was lashing out at the kids more often and don’t even get started on the petty fucking fights he was picking with Scott. How long did you fucking need before you talked to him again?

He knows you’re upset, your crying keeps everyone up at night. Something he’s sure you’d be mortified to learn about. Why won’t you let him comfort you? Why do you have to be so petulant, running around the corner every time you see him? Pointedly ignoring him when you’re in the same room together. 

He could fix this, make this all better. But you’re just not letting him. He knows this is why he loves you. It’s why he was so drawn to you. You seem like a bundle of nerves, constantly flitting around and keeping yourself small. It had been off-putting at first. And then he’d seen you training with Scott, kicking his ass more like. A switch had been flicked in his head. 

He could finally see you for what you were. He finally realized that it was your abilities you were keeping small. You were a fucking spitfire and you didn’t hesitate to tell him off, he loved it. Loved arguing with you just so he could see you get all pissed off. 

But that stubborn attitude he loved was really biting him in the ass right now. 

There’s a knock on his bedroom door and he doesn’t even get to pretend it’s going to be you. He smells Jean’s perfume and rolls his eyes. He puffs on his cigar and contemplates ignoring her.

“Don’t be a jackass, open the damn door.” 

Fuckin’ telepaths. “What?” He snaps at her the second the door is open. Her face screws up when she smells the smoke from his cigar. He knows she wants to put it out, and can see it in the twitch of her fingers. He raises a brow, a silent challenge to try him. He’s itching for another fight and she can feel it. 

She lets out a sharp breath, choosing her battles wisely and backing off. He’s almost disappointed. “We need to talk. This whole thing between the two of you is ridiculous. You’re a mess, she’s a mess…”

Her voice trails off into nothing more than the annoying pitch of a fly. Logan can’t be bothered to listen to her scold him. He’s not a fucking kid, and maybe if you were acting like an adult, they wouldn’t be having this problem. 

A few doors down he can hear you shouting, then the door to your room slams open. He darts off his bed, opening his own door to see what you’re doing. He only sees the back of your head as you angrily stomp down the stairs. 

Enough is fucking enough, he was finishing this now. He was sick of your side of the bed being empty and the stupid fucking glare on your face every time you saw him. He doesn’t even bother saying anything to Jean as he leaves, just chases after you. 

Jean watches him go with a perturbed look. She steps out of the room and glances down the hall. Ororo steps out of your room and walks towards her. “Well?” Jean probes. 

Ororor shrugs, “She’s over it.” Jean smiles but it’s quickly wiped off her face by Ororo’s expression. “Not in the way we wanted.

Jean clenches her eyes shut and takes in a deep breath. She needs you two to figure your shit out or she’s never going to be able to get a good night’s sleep again.

You find yourself in the gym. It’s not your favorite place in the world, you don’t usually get to train with the others. You’re stuck with telepaths, mainly the ones who can shut your powers down if you get too out of control. That hasn’t been a problem since you got the cuffs, but you’ve been too sad to test them out. 

Now you find yourself obliterating a punching bag. You wrap the energy around your fists and let it protect the thin skin as you pummel into the bag. You don’t know what else to do. You can’t have energy meltdowns anymore. You have to try and funnel it all out physically, but it’s not working. Nothing is. 

“Imagining it’s me?” You pause midswing. You glance over to the door just in time to see Logan stalking towards you. He unzips his jacket slowly. So slowly it almost seems provocative. He tugs it off and tosses it onto a nearby bench. 

You scoff as you watch him. “Do you ever have a shirt on?”

He shrugs and moves towards the ring in the middle of the gym. His movements are lithe and fluid as he hops onto the ring, every bit a wild animal. You watch as the muscles in his torso ripple and force your eyes off of him. You try and focus your attention back on the bag, but all your earlier energy is gone. Your mind is completely wrapped around Logan. 

Which you’re sure is exactly what he wants, or he wouldn’t be staring at you so smugly as he leans against the ropes and waits for you to acknowledge him. You suck on your teeth, irritation blooming in sporadic bursts throughout your body that has you nearly shaking. Finally, you give in. 

He smirks the second your eyes meet, “I can take it, sweetheart. A lot better than that little toy of yours can.” He nods towards the punching bag but the insinuation isn’t lost on you. You and Logan had been very active in your relationship. You could barely go a day without tasting each other. 

You’ve been pent up since the breakup. You’d given in a few days ago, pulled out your old vibrator, and tried to bring even a semblance of joy back into your life. But nothing could compare to Logan. 

His tongue darts out, wetting his lips as he waits for you to react. He’s standing there, staring down at you with all the surety in the world that you’re going to fuck him. It makes you want to dig your nails in and rip him apart, bit by bit. 

You can already picture it in your mind, using your abilities to pick him apart until he’s nothing but molecules dispersed through the air. He’s lucky you have the cuffs on, without them you’re sure he’d already be dead. 

You smirk and move towards the edge of the ring, your voice drops as you purr up at him, “You wanna play, Logan?”

He grins and moves off the ropes, starting towards you as you make your way onto the ring. You’re slightly less graceful than he was, but you’re too focused on wiping the smug look off his face to pay attention. “Come on kid,” he taunts, voice as low as it usually is when he’s fucking into you. “Let’s see what you got.”

You’re not stupid enough to just outright swing at him. You feint to the right and bring your knee up into his ribs. He only needs one hand to wrap around your thigh and drag you forward. His other hand goes to your hip, tugging you closer until you’re practically grinding against each other. You grit your teeth and glare up at him. 

“Come on, sweetheart, that can’t be all you got for me.” Energy wraps around your head, blurring the air around you. You slam your temple against his, it provides enough of a distraction for you to yank your leg out of his grip. You throw your right fist into his ear, bouncing back with a grin as he shakes his head. 

He practically growls as he reorients himself. You shrug and smirk, “What, don’t tell me that’s all you got, wolvie.”

“Don’t fuckin’ call me that,” he grumbles. You open your mouth, prepared to taunt him again. But he’s lunging towards you and you just barely have enough time to dart out of his way. You know he’s going easy on you. He could have had you just then if he really wanted this. 

But he’s dragging this out. Forcing you to spend as much time with him as you can. It only pisses you off further. You plant your foot on his back and kick him forward. He barely even stumbles and it only further confirms your suspicions. “Stop fucking holding back,” you yell at him. 

He turns around slowly. You almost expect there to be a sneer on his face, something angry. Instead, he looks fucking thrilled, like this is all just foreplay for him. He laughs, so low you can barely hear it, and his chest flexes as his claws come out. 

“You sure?” It’s a taunt, a dare, he knows you aren’t going to take the bait. You’d be stupid to, you don’t heal like he does. Once those things get in you, you’re screwed. But right now, you’re too pissed off to try and care. 

You don’t say anything, you just duck under his fist as he swings at you. You know he made it easy for you, giving you an opening to fall into. He’s treating you like you’re something fragile. And maybe you are. One wrong move in this fight and you might not make it through the night. But anger is making you blind to logic. 

Him playing fair just makes you want to play dirty. You use the opening he gives you, letting energy form around your fist and pulling back just enough to slam into his ribs. He coughs, doubling over as you hear bones crack under your hit. He’ll heal in seconds, you can’t bring yourself to feel too bad for him. 

Maybe if he ever took you seriously you might not be such a bitch. But he didn’t think you were good enough to be honest with and he still was treating you like a plaything. In your opinion, he deserves whatever you give him and more. He doubles over and you swing your leg around, bringing it down across his face. 

You hear a crack as your socked foot connects with his face, something crunches underneath you. And when your sole hits the mat again you see the blood leaking from his nose. You almost apologize. Almost, then you see the look on his face. His pupils are swallowing the hazel of his eyes, lips parted as he pants through his teeth. He looks fucking animalistic. 

You have no warning as he pounces on you. His lips smother your own, moving over you with little to no grace. There’s nothing romantic or gentle about this. His fingers are digging so hard into your shirt, you’re sure you hear the seams rip. But you can’t bring yourself to care. 

One of your hands goes to his hair, tugging at the roots until he’s groaning into your mouth. You rake your nails up his back roughly. He cusses against your lips, hand traveling up to your chin so he can roughly jerk you back. 

He stares down at you, a silent question on his face. You’ve barely nodded before he’s descending upon you again. Lips and teeth clash borderline painfully as he lowers you onto the mat. You’re missing all the usual love and tenderness he treats you with, but you don’t care. 

You want to be rough. You want to hurt him like he hurt you, make him ache for you the way you do him. You wrap your legs around his, lifting your pelvis until you have enough leverage to flip him. Your thighs straddle his waist and you grind down against the prominent bulge in his sweatpants. 

He groans into your open mouth, large palms grabbing at your ass and spreading you so he can thrust between your clothed thighs. You can’t help but moan at the friction. It’s just enough to keep you on edge, he pulls back every time you think you might be close to something real building. 

You rip your mouth off his. He glares up at you as you grab his hair and yank his head back. You slam his head hard enough into the mat for it to echo through the room and he growls against your grip. You grin down at him as you slowly get off him. You make a show of stripping, enjoying the way his eyes track your movements. He looks like a dog, panting and waiting for his treat. 

You’re tempted to get yourself off, making him watch, and then leave him straining against his sweatpants. But you need this bad, need him to scratch the itch you can’t reach so you can finally get him out of your head. Neither of you are patient as he jerks his sweatpants down just enough for his cock to pop out. 

It’s already leaking from the tip like a faucet. You kneel, straddling his waist again. You don’t have to do much to slick him up. You pump him a few times before he’s gripping your wrist and jerking your hand away. “Get up here,” he commands, voice rough as he grips your hips. You don’t even get a chance to protest before he’s flipping you over. 

He grabs your thighs and wraps them around his waist. Your ass is off the ground, hovering above his lap as he lines up with your slit. You moan when the tip rubs against your clit. “Whose teasing now?” You grit out, glaring at him. 

His lips curl up, that insufferable smirk on his face before he slams into you. The attitude is practically fucked out of you as he starts pumping in and out. You groan, raking your hands down his chest. He fucking moans at the pain, blood blooming under your nails and immediately closing the further down you go. 

Neither of you are giving up this fight, you don’t want to lose, not even while you’re fucking. He pulls out of you and flips you over so fast you don’t even have time to whine. He’s back in you before you can blink, hips slapping into you in a way that you know is going to leave bruises tomorrow. You’re not going to be able to sit for a week and he knows it. His hands are groping at the skin of your ass, pulling you apart and watching the skin ripple as he fucks into you. 

You’re not going to last long. You’ve been too desperate, too pent up while you’ve been pissed off at him. He leans over you, draping himself across you lazily. You groan at the added weight, it only adds to the sensation, only makes you want him deeper inside you. “Thought you didn’t want me anymore, sweetheart.” He whispers in your ear and you flutter around him as his hand snakes around your waist, rubbing tight circles on your clit. 

You open your mouth but all that comes out is disjointed moans. You know there’s something sarcastic in there, and he must know too because he laughs at your pathetic mumbled sentence. “I don’t know,” he leans back and watches as he makes room for himself inside you. “Seem to need me real bad now.”

Your nails dig into the mat, energy leaking through your fingertips and warming up the canvas beneath you. You can feel it fluctuating, fighting against the cuffs the closer he brings you to the edge. “Fuck you,” the words escape you at a particularly deep thrust and you struggle to keep your eyes open. 

He pauses and you nearly cry at the loss of movement. “Sorry, couldn’t hear you. What’d you say? Stop?”

You glare over your shoulder at him  “Don’t you fucking dare, Logan.” You let your power push up against his back, forcing his hips to move again. He chuckles at the move, fingers creating figure eights on your nub. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it, sweetheart,” he protests, voice innocent. “Ah, fuck,” his voice is nothing more than low grunts and groans in your ear the closer the both of you get to your release. You can’t speak anymore, can’t think. You can feel it cresting higher and higher inside you. 

Your abilities are rising with your release. They’re pushing against the cuffs, fighting desperately against the control the foreign metal has on your powers. You can feel it, heat building up under your skin, like a tingling on the tip of your tongue that you just can’t reach. It’s Logan’s release that finally tips you over the edge. 

The way his breath catches and his hips stutter in their perfect rhythm as warmth floods you from the inside out. You can feel it, him, dribbling down your thighs and staining the mat beneath you. It has you clenching around him, pushing your hips back weakly while you let the feeling overwhelm you. You nearly black out. Two weeks without him hadn’t felt long until you remembered what you were missing. 

You lose your sense of time, dropping to the mat like your bones have gone liquid, dripping out of you. You can feel Logan draped over you still, his weight a comforting blanket that nearly has you drifting to sleep. Naked, in the middle of the boxing ring. He pulls out of you and you whimper at the loss. 

He shushes you, rubbing a hand up your spine and pressing a gentle kiss to the side of your temple. He wraps his arms around you, laying down and pulling you back into his chest. It takes a few minutes of quiet cuddling for you to remember what exactly led you down to the gym in the first place. 

You feel disgusted with yourself for giving in to him so easily. It’s clear what his plan had been. And you’d fallen for it hook, line, and sinker. You’d barely even fought against him. Of course, you could reason that you needed to get the tension out. This was the perfect way to funnel out your built-up energy. 

But you’re disgusted with yourself for giving in to him so easily. You just disregarded dignity and self-respect for a chance to get him between your legs. You were such a fucking idiot. No wonder this is all he wanted you for. 

“Shit,” you mutter, trying to pull yourself out of his grip. Your eyes widen as his arms tighten around your waist. He tugs you back down until he’s got you in what essentially feels like a headlock. He could easily pass it off as spooning, but it feels a little more demanding than that. “Logan,” you warn, the silent peace of the moment officially shattered. 

“Don’t,” he gripes. You can fight against him for as long as you want, but you’ll only tire yourself out. His arms are literally metal bands around you. “Let me talk and then you can run off.” You huff and wait, but he never speaks. Finally, you look over your shoulder and glare at him. “Well?”

You roll your eyes, “Fuck’s sake,” you mutter. “Alright, speak.”

You can feel his grin against the back of your head. If he didn’t have you in such a tight grip, you’d elbow him in the gut just to be petty. “I made a mistake,” you scoff and he keeps going. Stopping you from interrupting him with something bitchy. “You weren’t just something convenient to me, sweetheart.” he pauses and chuckles, “You’re a huge fucking pain in my ass.”

“Is this your idea of an apology?” You snap, “Because this is pathetic.” 

He doesn’t say anything and you’re tempted to snark at him again. But then the world is flipped on its side as he jerks you around and forces you to face him. Your chests rub together, the sweaty skin sticking together and bordering on uncomfortable. “You ever shut up?” He asks, but there’s no heat to the words. If anything he looks fond of you, and it makes you shift around, trying not to look him in the eye. But there’s nowhere for you to hide, you’re both naked and bare before each other. 

You’re as physically vulnerable as he must feel emotionally. And as much as this is a horrible way to display how he’s feeling, you’re starting to understand him a little better. You know why this conversation is so hard for him, why he can’t accept that someone truly loves him and he loves her back. 

But that’s not going to get him out of it. He’s still yet to say the words. Maybe if he manned up and said something real you’d consider forgiving him. You give him an expectant look and he sighs, forehead pressed against yours as he slumps over you. You want to pretend you’re annoyed at the contact, but you’ve been craving it since you ran away two weeks ago.

You’ve been desperate for this warmth that only he can provide you. Without realizing it, you nuzzle further into his chest, hands drifting up to wrap around his bare waist. Logan feels the tightness in him ease slightly at the way you curl into him. He’s got a shot, even if you try and tell him he doesn’t.  

It’s silent for a while, while you linger in the emotions of what just happened and he tries to find the right words. He leans down, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear and smiling against the shell of your ear. “I love you,” he whispers. 

You’d told yourself you’d only consider forgiving him if he said those words. But that’s only because you’d never thought he would actually say it. You didn’t think he was capable of admitting that to himself. It seems so out of character for him. But, maybe, you don’t know him as well as you thought you did. 

He pulls back, hand landing on your jaw and gently guiding your head out of his neck. He gives you an expectant look but you’re finding it hard to meet his eyes. You’ve been waiting for him to say that, but now it feels like you can’t. You’re still struggling to forgive him. He put you through so much unnecessary hurt just because he couldn’t face his own feelings. 

And now you’re struggling to do the same. “I want to say it back,” you tell him. “But how am I supposed to trust that the next time things get hard, you won’t lash out again?”

He frowns, an irritated huff of breath shooting out his nose. But you know it’s frustration towards himself. For letting you both get to this point because he couldn’t just say three words. “I’ll wait,” he promises. “For as long as it takes, I’ll wait.” 

You smile and nod, wrapping your arms around him and burying your face in his neck. You’re sure you’ll be saying it sooner rather than later. But what’s the harm in making him squirm a little? He deserves it. 

A/N: I don’t write smut, it’s literally in my rules. I think I stared at a gif of him for too long and some horny ass demon possessed me and made me write this. Forgive me, universe, I’m no better than a man.

end. — I do not own the characters or the comics/movies Wolverine/X-Men, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.