#the entire plot is fucking wild

[losttoliterature]

rewatching the princess bride <3 somewhere near round 12 i think?

[givemewallywestorgivemedeath]

I love how Brennan as a DM was all "Riz, you need more than good grades. You need to stand out. You need showstopping extracurriculars." and to Kristen he was all, "I'm going to throw the weight of an entire religion at you, make you relive your family trauma through your brother and give you relationship issues."

Yet, SOMEHOW, when Brennan introduced little miss four dogs, the driven type A rogue, and had her run for president, setting up the perfect foil for Riz's character and an amazing extracurricular for Riz to aim for in one fell swoop, THE ENTIRE PARTY WENT "KRISTEN 4 PREZ!!!! SHRIMP PARTY 2.0!!!"

Don't get me wrong, I love that Ally went for the fucking throat on vibes alone. Like, that was truly loathing at first sight and I love that for them, I really do.

BUT ALSO THAT WAS RIZ'S PLOTLINE KRISTEN. YOU HAVE LIKE THREE PLOTLINES KRISTEN. WHY ARE YOU ADDING MORE TO YOUR PLATE KRISTEN.

[orcelito]

Haven't been able to watch too much naruto recently. Been watching Maybe an episode a day ish. I just finished ep 419 tho and WHAT an episode to have ahead of me for grand number 420. Can't watch it rn tho bc I need to sleep and also I'm too tired to give it the full attention that I want to. Bc when I watch it, I will be embracing !!!!THE!!!! legendary Guy vs Madara fight in its FULL FORM!!!!!!

So exciting. God they're laying some major death flags lol, between the flashbacks stuff and the gate of death and well the saying he's gonna die 😂😂😂 I know he does survive it tho. But I'm also embracing this part with the Possibility of him dying. Bc that's what the others are reacting to too. And I wanna experience the full depth of emotion....

Excited for watching this next episode!!! It just cannot be right now.

[danielnelsen]

but WHY does corypheus lose the ability to body-hop when the dragon dies? it pisses me off every time i play or read about it. it just feels like a cop-out. "oh the all-knowing well told me that the dragon will disrupt corypheus long enough to kill him". i hate the term deus ex machina because of things like cinema sins but this really is "here's a new mechanic that you could never have inferred from anything in the franchise up to this point and you know about it because of ~mystical ancient knowledge~" GAHHHHHHHH

[wackymaci]

im scraping thru ye olde convos rn cause I had to look something up Re: Maci and then I went down a rabbit hole and I just. first of all have to say that . Treating the elysiumverse as a linear story is so hilariously insane like by nature of being an active rp verse established in like 2011 when we were in middle school. everything is so dramatic and so many horrifically terrible things have happened so many times to the point where it’s like Jesus Fucking Christ Can We Relax. everyone has been stabbed so many times. yes it’s all canon. yes I’m gonna write it down.

second of all. by nature of being an active rp verse established in like 2011 when we were in middle school where everything is so dramatic and so many horrifically terrible things have happened, BUT I only started really devotedly publically posting about all those things in like. 2014/2015. there’s so much that I think none of you even KNOW about. im reading the old convos from when Meli was split into her two good/evil halves and almost killed Epi and DID successfully kill his and Eury’s baby and like. do people know about that????? There’s so many tHINGS LKKE THAT. im in the Meli’s Their Only Daughter And Ty And Bel Haven’t Even Been BORN Yet Era of Elysium

like. omfg forget Maci wait til I compile everyone whose moments of drama happened pre tumblr—

[cinnabeat]

i should watch lost song again i will never get over the plot twist

[loregoddess]

If I had a nickel for every fictional character I've encountered who has 2 or more dads they're technically genetically related to, but only 1 or 0 moms, I'd have....a very puzzling number of nickels

[mcrdvcks]

Sweet Nothing

Summary: Mornings were Logan's favorite part of the day.

Word Count: 2.6k+

Pairing: Logan (X-Men) x fem!reader

Notes: i came up with this idea yesterday when i took a nap instead of writing an essay for my energy policy class. this is my first time writing smut for logan so any critiques are welcome!

warnings/tags: no use of y/n, porn with no plot, pet names (baby, sweetheart), unprotected piv, creampie, not proofread

You were like a cat, practically purring into his neck as you slept peacefully, your arm around his chest and your leg hoisted around his stomach.

But Logan wouldn’t trade it for anything, not when he could watch your chest rise and fall steadily, your bare body pressed up against his own.

Logan’s arm tightened around your waist, the weight of you grounding him. He loved the way your breath hitched when he shifted, your skin pressed flush against his. "Mm, baby," his voice came out low, almost a growl, lips brushing against your forehead. His fingers grazed your bare hip, pulling you tighter against his side.

Your leg slipped further up his body, your thigh brushing his stomach, every part of you tangled with him. His chest rumbled, the warmth of your skin driving him wild. He couldn't help but dip his head, nuzzling the soft spot just beneath your ear, breathing you in, "Can’t get enough of you like this," he murmured, his hand roaming down your spine.

A sleepy smile tugged at your lips as you shifted, nuzzling closer into his neck, the feeling of his stubble grazing your cheek sending shivers down your body. The heat of the morning sun was nothing compared to the heat between the two of you, the sheets a tangled mess beneath you both, the air thick with something else entirely.

Logan’s rough hand slid lower, finding the curve of your ass, fingers splaying across the soft flesh. "Always gotta be all over me, don’t you, sweetheart?" His voice was thick with need, each word a low, gravelly tease as he squeezed, hard enough to make you hum softly into his neck. He loved the way you responded to his touch, every sound you made driving him deeper into the moment.

You shifted again, your hips rolling instinctively against him, and that was it. Logan’s breath hitched, his cock stirring against your thigh. He let out a quiet grunt, rough fingertips grazing the inside of your thigh, teasing your skin with lazy circles. "You keep that up, baby," he warned, voice darker now, more possessive, "and I’m not gonna be able to hold back."

Your eyes flickered open just a bit, catching the hungry look in his eyes, the way his jaw clenched as he gripped your ass harder. You couldn’t help but smile, that playful, knowing smirk. You knew exactly what you were doing. And so did he.

Logan groaned, his hand slipping between your legs, fingers brushing the heat between your thighs. "Fuck, you're soaked," he rasped, fingers gliding over your folds, teasing you just enough to make you squirm. "Needy already, huh? Such a good girl for me."

You whined softly, your hips pushing back against his hand, desperate for more. But Logan wasn’t about to let you have it that easy. He kept his touch feather-light, teasing, dragging his fingers over you just enough to drive you insane.

Logan’s fingers teased along your wet folds, barely brushing the surface, just enough to make you whine again, hips rolling forward, desperate for more than just a teasing touch. "Needy little thing, aren't you?" he murmured, voice a gravelly rasp that sent shivers down your spine. His breath, hot and thick against your ear, only added to the tension building between your legs.

You pressed yourself harder against his hand, a soft, pleading moan slipping from your lips. "Logan," you whispered, the word coming out like a prayer, breathless, full of need. He chuckled darkly, the sound vibrating against your neck as he nuzzled deeper into the crook, stubble scraping your skin in that way that always drove you wild.

"Patience, sweetheart," Logan muttered, his fingers finally dipping between your slick folds, parting them with agonizing slowness. His touch was firm, yet still teasing, fingers gliding through your wetness, but never quite giving you the pressure you were aching for. His thumb circled your clit, slow, lazy movements that had you squirming in his arms, a quiet whimper escaping your throat.

You gasped, grinding against him, desperate for more friction, more anything. His body was a solid, immovable wall, warm and grounding, but that teasing hand had you on edge. "Fuck, Lo," you moaned, barely able to keep still, your hips rocking against his touch. Logan’s other arm tightened around you, holding you in place, his lips grazing your ear.

"That’s it. Keep making those sweet little noises for me," he growled, fingers sliding down to circle your entrance, teasing just enough to have your breath hitching. He pressed the tip of one finger inside you, just enough to feel how wet you were for him. "So fucking wet already," he murmured, his lips pressing against your neck, teeth grazing lightly. "You want it bad, don’t you?"

You nodded frantically, the need building in your core, hips pushing back against him. His finger slid in deeper, slow and deliberate, making you squirm even more. "God, Logan, please," you begged, your voice thick with desperation, body trembling with want. You could feel his cock pressing against your thigh, throbbing with need just like you.

He chuckled again, low and dark, before adding a second finger, curling them inside you, finally giving you that delicious pressure you’d been craving. Your back arched, a moan ripping from your throat as your walls clenched around his fingers. "There you go," he muttered, his voice rough as gravel. "Take what you need, baby."

You were a mess, grinding against his hand, your body moving on instinct. His fingers moved faster now, pumping in and out of you, slick and wet, the sound filling the room. His thumb pressed harder against your clit, rubbing in tight circles that had you gasping, your body tensing as you climbed higher, faster.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he growled into your ear, his breath hot against your skin. His hips rocked against you, his hard cock pressing insistently against your thigh. "Gonna make you come all over my fingers before I even think about giving you anything more."

The knot in your stomach tightened, your entire body trembling, on the edge, so fucking close. Logan knew exactly what he was doing, his fingers curling just right inside you, his thumb relentless on your clit, pushing you closer and closer. "Come on, baby," he urged, his voice dark and commanding. "I want to feel you come for me."

His words sent you over the edge, your body shuddering as the orgasm ripped through you, a cry spilling from your lips. Your walls clenched around his fingers, your hips bucking against his hand as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over you.

Logan didn’t stop, his fingers still working you through it, prolonging the sensation, his other arm holding you tight against him as you rode out the high. Your breath came in ragged gasps, your body trembling, oversensitive and overstimulated, but still craving more. You wanted him.

"Fuck, sweetheart," he muttered, pulling his fingers out of you, wet and glistening. He brought them up to your lips, brushing them against your mouth, a wicked gleam in his eyes. "Taste yourself," he growled softly.

Without hesitation, you opened your mouth, sucking his fingers in, tasting your own slickness on his skin. Logan groaned, his eyes dark with desire as he watched you, the heat between you both palpable. His fingers slid from your lips with a wet pop, leaving your mouth craving more.

Before you could even catch your breath, Logan shifted, rolling you onto your back with ease, his weight pressing you into the sheets. His body hovered over yours, his chest brushing against your breasts as he leaned in, capturing your lips in a slow, hungry kiss. His tongue swept into your mouth, tasting, claiming, while his hand trailed down your side, fingers tracing the curve of your waist.

"Fuck, you taste so sweet," he muttered against your lips, his breath hot, sending a shiver down your spine. His hand slipped lower, finding your thigh, lifting your leg to wrap around his waist. The pressure of his hips settled between your legs, his hard cock brushing against your soaked entrance, teasing you with the promise of what was to come.

Logan moved slowly, his hips rocking just enough for you to feel the length of him dragging against your folds, the friction making you gasp, your hands clenching in the sheets. "Shit, baby, you’re dripping for me," he growled, his voice thick with need, as he ground his hips harder, the tip of his cock pressing lightly against your clit, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through you.

You bucked your hips, desperate for more, your body aching for him to fill you. "Please, Lo," you breathed, your voice trembling with desire. "Need you inside me."

A low, feral groan rumbled from his chest as he nudged your legs wider, positioning himself at your entrance. His eyes locked onto yours, dark and intense, filled with a hunger that made your heart race. Slowly, torturously, he pushed in, stretching you inch by inch, filling you completely. The sensation of him inside you, thick and hot, made your head spin, a soft whimper escaping your lips.

"Fuck," Logan hissed, his jaw clenched as he buried himself to the hilt, his body still for a moment as he savored the feel of you wrapped tight around him. "You feel so fucking good, sweetheart." His hands gripped your hips, fingers digging into your skin as he began to move, pulling out slowly before thrusting back in, the rhythm steady but deliberate.

You moaned softly, your hands sliding up his back, nails dragging across his skin as he set a slow, sensual pace, his cock gliding in and out of you with maddening precision. "Logan," you gasped, your back arching off the bed, the pleasure building steadily with each thrust. "Fuck... that feels so good."

Logan's mouth found your neck, his lips trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your skin, his teeth grazing your pulse. "I know, baby," he murmured, his breath warm against your ear as his hips rocked into you, deep and slow, every movement calculated to drive you insane. His hands roamed over your body, fingers squeezing your ass as he angled his hips just right, hitting that perfect spot inside you that made your toes curl.

Your breath hitched, a broken moan slipping from your lips as you wrapped your legs tighter around him, pulling him closer, needing more. Logan growled low in his throat, his thrusts becoming more insistent, his cock driving into you harder, deeper, each one sending a shockwave of pleasure through your entire body.

"Fuck, you feel so good wrapped around me," he groaned, his voice rough and thick with desire. His hand slid between your bodies, fingers finding your clit, rubbing in tight circles that had you gasping, your hips grinding against his, desperate for more friction. "Come for me, sweetheart," he growled, his thumb pressing harder against your clit, his thrusts growing rougher, faster. "I want to feel you come around my cock."

You could barely breathe, the pleasure building to a fever pitch, every nerve in your body on fire as his fingers worked your clit, his cock pounding into you with just the right rhythm. It was too much, the heat, the pressure, his low growls in your ear driving you over the edge. With a strangled cry, your body tensed, your walls clenching around him as the orgasm ripped through you, your vision going white as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over you.

"Fuck, yes," Logan groaned, his pace faltering as he felt you tighten around him, his cock twitching inside you. With one final thrust, he buried himself deep, his body shaking as his release hit, spilling inside you with a low, guttural moan. He held you tight, his breath ragged against your neck, his body trembling with the aftershocks.

For a long moment, the only sound was your mingled breathing, bodies entwined, his weight a comforting pressure holding you to the bed. Logan's lips hovered over yours, brushing them softly, like a lingering promise. His rough fingers skimmed along your side, tracing the dips of your waist, as if savoring the way your body still hummed from the intensity.

He shifted beside you, the warm length of him pressing into your skin, a quiet rumble in his chest as he nuzzled your neck again, his stubble scraping against your pulse. "Still with me, sweetheart?" Logan's voice was low, teasing, his mouth ghosting over your jawline. The rasp of his tone sent another shiver down your spine, even though your body was still heavy from release.

"Mmhmm," you murmured, barely able to form a coherent word, your breath catching as his lips trailed lower, grazing the soft skin just under your ear. Logan chuckled, the sound vibrating against your skin, as his hand slid down, resting on your thigh, fingers splayed out across your skin.

He pulled back enough to meet your eyes, the intensity in his gaze making your pulse quicken again. His thumb rubbed absentminded circles into your skin, like he needed the physical connection just as much as you did. "You really wore me out this time," he teased, smirking that cocky grin of his, though the hunger in his eyes hadn’t fully faded.

Your fingers slid into his hair, tugging him back down toward you. "Don’t act like you didn’t love every second of it," you shot back, breathless but smiling.

Logan chuckled, low and deep, dipping down to kiss you again, slow and deliberate, savoring the way your lips felt against his. "Damn right," he muttered between kisses. "Could stay like this forever."

For a moment, the world outside the room felt distant, forgotten, the only thing that mattered was the heat between your bodies, the steady rhythm of your breaths, and the soft warmth of the tangled sheets beneath you. Logan's fingers skimmed your hip, then slipped around to cup your ass, squeezing gently, making you hum softly in response.

"You're a handful, you know that?" His voice was thick with affection, despite the rough edge to it.

"Mm, you love it," you teased, a grin tugging at your lips as your fingers traced the hard lines of his shoulders.

"Yeah, I do," he growled, his lips pressing harder against yours. "Too much sometimes." His breath fanned across your face as he spoke, and you could feel the steady beat of his heart, matching your own.

Logan's hand slid up your back, pulling you closer to him, his chest warm and solid against yours. For once, the urgency had faded, replaced with something slower, deeper—like he didn’t want to let go of this moment, this feeling. "You good?" he asked, voice quieter now, more tender.

You nodded, resting your forehead against his, your hands curling around his arms, holding onto him like you never wanted to let go. "Yeah," you whispered, feeling the weight of the day melt away with him there beside you.

"Good," he murmured, kissing the top of your head, the gentleness of the gesture at odds with the wild, raw passion from earlier. But that was Logan- rough and intense, but capable of surprising softness when it came to you.

His hand settled on the small of your back, pulling you flush against him again as he let out a long, contented sigh. The steady rise and fall of his chest was soothing, grounding, as you drifted into the comfort of the moment, his warmth wrapping around you like a shield from the world outside.

"Stay here," he rumbled, his voice barely more than a growl, but there was something deeper in his tone, something protective.

You smiled softly against his chest, fingers tracing idle patterns along his skin. "Always."

[storm-and-starlight]

I know this is a little too late and this post has already escaped containment but I do want to clarify that this isn't based on "whether or not a given Doctor could solve the puzzle and break the wall", they all could because they're all the Doctor, even if the specifics differ. The categories are based off of "would this given incarnation as written and acted work with the tone of the episode and be able to carry off the emotional impact and atmosphere, or would it lose some of its quality because of a mismatch in personality/writing style?"

revisiting my opinions on which doctors could pull off Heaven Sent

could do it with minimal alterations to the original episode's plot and dialogue

Twelve - obviously

Eight - could 100% pull off the speeches and the angst and, of course, the memory loss. The episode would definitely be focused a little more on the great tragedy of dying over and over and over again just in the hopes of making it through enough loops to break out, and Eight would be much much more of a sad wet cat about it all, but he could totally pull it off.

Seven - would take a bit more tweaking than Eight (specifically to change the focus of the episode to the puzzle of it all, finding the right room and figuring out the secret of the Veil), but would 100% punch his way through the wall and be able to pull off the speeches.

could maybe do it? but with pretty major edits

Four - definitely has the charisma and the ability to give the speeches, but I don't know if the speeches as written would fit well into how Four talks, and he'd also need the same tweaking at Seven to make it more about solving the mystery, rather than the very atmospheric style of the original. The wall scene would also probably have to be reworked, since Four doesn't really seem like the type to punch through it in the exact same way as Twelve.

Three - could and would punch through the wall and would do it in half the time of Twelve but couldn't carry off the angst or the atmosphere, so you'd need some pretty dramatic rejiggering of the major stylistic choices in order to make it work. Honestly, you might have to really lean into a, like, horror/thriller kinda thing, with the pursuit of the Veil?

could pull off a focus episode but would need a fundamentally different style

Ten/Fourteen - absolutely has the screen presence but they need someone to talk to in order to get it, and the same is true of their problem-solving style. They need someone to bounce off of as an antagonist and as a companion -- basically, they need the same setup as Wild Blue Yonder, which is basically exactly what Fourteen's version of Heaven Sent would be anyways. (Also Ten doesn't do speeches like Twelve does, and definitely wouldn't punch through the wall -- his problem-solving style leans more towards the whole "push a single button that sets off a chain reaction that solves everything" rather than sheer stubborness. He doesn't have the attention span for the wall.)

Nine - Nine also has the screen presence but his comes when he's angry at something, which means that he needs something to yell at, so he would also need another speaking being present in the episode for him to get really really mad at. Think Dalek but without the Rose subplots?

probably not (note: the major reason why none of these work for Heaven Sent is because they're all Doctors that work best with an ensemble cast around them -- they sacrifice intensity and screen-presence for the sake of letting other characters shine)

Eleven - doesn't have the screen presence for that kind of intensity, alas. He could pull off the speeches in his own style, but he's not hypnotic while doing them the same way Twelve is, and he definitely doesn't have the type of personality to pull off the wall. His best emotional episodes are smaller and closer to the heart, and Heaven Sent is anything but small.

Five - could not pull off the speeches or the wall or the puzzle. He's a sweetheart and a golden retriever but he's not nearly dramatic enough to carry a solo episode like that.

Two - same as Five, really

One - just... no. I can't pull out any reasons (it might just be that he's from an era of television that was so very different in how it constructed stories), but no

no clue

Fifteen - hasn't been around long enough for me to get a sense of his personality

Thirteen - never really had a consistent personality in the first place. or any good emotional episodes so I don't feel like I know her well enough to make a judgement call

Six - just straight-up haven't seen very much of his run so I couldn't say how he'd fit in Heaven Sent.

[dykelwj]

I think we should introduce the “fuckable old man poll” person to the Ceiling Xigbar Fic™️

[adelliet]

Wolverine x f!reader

SILENT HUNT

Summary: You are running from the FBI, spending days hiding and surviving until you meet a man who helped you and saved your life.

Warnings: MDNI 18+, corn with plot, soft Logan, harassment, age gap (reader in 20s Logan in his 30s), reader is much smaller than Logan, mentions of trauma, hunting animals, light fingering, oral (f!receiving), nicknames (sweetie, princess), unprotected sex ( p i v ), aftercare, praise kink, good~sweet ending

A/n: Hey so um I didn't expect it to be so long 0-0 sorry for that…but I hope you're gonna like it (I'm going insane over this man help)

,,She ran this way!” You heard one of the cops shouting. You knew they were up your ass. Despite your speed, sooner or later they will catch up. You couldn't allow that.

You quickly tried to analyze the environment around you and when your eyes spotted a thick bush, you took advantage of it and quickly hid behind it. You couldn't hide here forever, but you wanted to gain some time to think. Terrified, you looked around, desperately trying to find a place where you could hide longer.

"Where did she go?!" You recognized the bitter male voice. It belonged to one of them, actually to the main guy who destroyed you. Who used you and turned you into the monster you are now. He took away your rights, your dignity, your life. He didn't care that he could've killed you. You were just a lab rat to him who had beneficially succeeded his experiment.

Just his tone made your heart rate rise, your claws were pressing against your knuckles, struggling to break through. You concentrate all your nerves for stopping the mutant DNA inside you bubble to the surface. The rage and hatred for the man was incalculable, but you couldn't attack him. At least, not right now. You just had to wait quietly for him and his entire team to leave.

"Fuck! Find her or I'll cut your throat!" he shouted angrily. Then you heard vehicles and thousands of footsteps finally fading away from you. You were holding your breath the whole time, finally relieving yourself and carefully climbed out from the bush. You did have a clear air, for now. Time was precious at the moment and you decided to use it well. That's why the moment you left your previous hiding spot, you ran after your goal.

Any shack, abandoned building or cabin would be ideal. Well, your wish was granted. You hadn't been running for long before you saw a small wooden cabin in the distance. Your eyes lit up, excited smile forming on your face. There was still a hope.

Running to the door, you weren't even going to waste time knocking. You rush inside and close the door by leaning against it. You throw your head back, trying to calm your breathing, before opening your eyes again.

You were quite surprised. The furniture and everything in the cabin looked exceedingly good. As if someone lived here. You barely took two steps forward and were about to continue exploring, but you were stopped by sharp objects lightly touching your back. "Who are you and what do you want" a rough male voice made your breath stuck in your throat, goosebumps rose all over your body.

You started shaking and you knew if you won't speak asap, you are dead. But your ability to talk was quite interrupted by those really sharp objects pressing on your back. Yet you inhale deeply and tried to answer calmly.

"I need to hide from the FBI..." there was a moment of silence. "They want me" "Why?" You could still feel the knives touching your back, keeping you in a position where you couldn't do anything but answer. "They want my DNA..." again there was a silent pause until the man finally set you free, so you could finally turn around and see his face.

Your eyes widened. You didn't expect this. It was pretty tall man, at least 6 feet tall. You admired his beard and hair, which created a strange illusion of a wild animal. His hands were huge, not only his biceps but also his palms. When he sees your face, his eyes soften. He did not expect this either.

"Why they want your DNA?" he asked with confusion in his voice. Before you manage to say anything, you hear vehicles outside the cabin. Your instincts immediately got the better of you and claws came out of your knuckles in self-defense. Logan pulled back in surprise and looked at you with raised eyebrow.

He had so many questions but this wasn't the time to ask. He knew that. He smelled your fear and saw your terrified eyes, you've been through a lot. Besides, you didn't look like someone who wanted to hurt him. "Go, hide under the bed in that room" he pointed to one of the doors and you wasted no time.

You did as he told you so and waited, your pulse raising again. "Wait until I tell you" he whispered before he closed the door. No sooner had he closed it, than they aggressively knocked with the words "FBI open the door or we break in!”

Your mind was filled with million scenarios and they weren't in a positive light. What if they find you? What if you get caught and you never see day light again? What if they try more experiments on you until you suffer to death? What if they kill you as soon as they see you? These questions spawned in your head as you tried to control your breathing.

"Hello gentlemen, how can I help you?"

"Have you seen this girl?" you quietly listened to their conversation expectantly. "No, why is she missing or someth-" 

"That's none of your bussines sir, just answer honestly. Have you seen this girl running through here?" you heard rich laugh as you furrow your eyebrows in confusion. "Are you for real? I haven't seen a single soul in here for couple of years..." your breathing and heart raise was slowly going back to normal speed and rhythm. "Okay, let us check the cabin and we can leave" fuck. Just when you though you won…

“I told you I haven't seen her-" "We have the right to come in sir, now stand back or force will come" You could feel beads of sweat rolling down your forehead. You're done. You weren't ready for it but you had no choice. At least you tried. Hope dies last, how they say…

You quietly awaited your fate and listened to the slow stomping around the cabin. There were only a few seconds left before they will enter the room where you were hiding. "Sir I told you I haven't seen that girl!" that wolf-looking guy kept trying to save you and chase them away before they find you. It was pointless. Not only did they not listen to him, but they just accelerated the search.

There it is.

All that running, all that hiding and all that starving was for nothing. Everything led to only one result, which will now be fulfilled.

The hair on your arms stood on end when you heard a loud creaking of the door. You held your breath as you watched the massive black boots move eerily slowly around the room. Then you heard more faster footsteps, before seeing shoes. They were different, so you recognized that this was your salvation.

"I don't know what you're looking for in here. I've told you several times that I've never seen that girl!" you watched the shoes of both men with frightened eyes. There was a silence for a moment, before you heard the transmitter switch on. "All clear" a weight lift off your heart when you heard those words. You waited still, as you were told to do so.

“Alright, you can come out now” you literally jumped out from under the bed and were completely changed. The scared expression turned to excited and your eyes shone like never before. You felt incredible relief, but mostly you were grateful.

"Thank you so much!" he just nodded and checked you up and down before going somewhere else. You followed him, curious what will happen next.

"So now you're going to tell me why they want your DNA?" he raised his eyebrow as he poured rum into the glass. You watched him for a while, observing his large, big, massive hands until you caught yourself. You cleared your throat akwardly.

“I'm…a successful lab experiment” his face expression still didn't change, letting you know he wanted more. "I was born as a normal person, but these guys took me from my parents and used me as their lab rat. They tried to give me DNA from some mutant" he listened carefully, being very interested in your speech. "The chance of me dying was over 90%, but I survived even with mutant genes. They want to know how it's possible. That's why they want me"

You look down, remembering all the traumatic experiences from the lab. "I know what it's like" You look up at him. "I've been…lab rat too" he looked thoughtfully at his hand before sharp claws came out from his knuckles. You gasped quietly, before squeezing your eyes. "You are Wolverine!" you said in disbelief. He looks at you with furrowed brows. "Am I that famous?" you scoffed and shook your head. "They talked about you a lot in the lab. You were...their insiration"

"Well that isn't that something I should be proud of huh?" he chuckled, joking sarcastically but he had a point. You watched his claws. They were much bigger, sharper than yours. "Adamantium" he got your attention again, watching his claws. "Unbreakable metal. I have it instead of my bones" he slid them back in and looked at your face to finally see your reaction.

"Really? That must've hurt..." "Like hell" he agreed and took a sip. He held out the glass to you. It took you a moment to understand what he wanted. "Oh no thank you, I don't drink" you shake your hand and suck your lips into a thin line. "Good girl" he nodded and instead of placing the glass on the counter, he drank it to the bottom and only then put it down.

"But you also have…these don't you?" he asked you and you nodded. "Yeah but my bones are not made from that metal, only these" you also wanted to flex so you took your claws out. There were only two sharp ones on one hand, but they were enough.

"I see..." he poured another shot of rum into his glass and drank it immediately. You were starting to worry about his livers. "I'm Logan by the way" you smiled, introducing yourself too. He repeated your name to himself, smiling at the way those letters tickle his tongue.

"What about your family, where are they now?" your smile dropped immediately and you looked down again. “I don't know” you whispered darkly, hoping, praying that they are still alive. Logan realized that this was probably an inappropriate question and instantly began to act.

"Anyway, are you hungry?" he opened a fridge and looked around there. Of course you were hungry. You were starving. You couldn't remember the last time you had normal meat, vegetables or fruit. Practically any normal food.

You didn't want to sound annoying tho, but before you could say no, Logan was already taking spaghetti out of the fridge. “These are leftovers from yesterday…I can make more if you want” you wanted to refuse the offer, but the longer you watched and smelled the aromatic smell of meat and tomatoes, saliva started pooling in your mouth. Your stomach rumbled and that was a sign that you had to accept Logan's food.

"Here" he handed you a fork which you quickly grab and started eating like an animal. Logan was surprised, he watched you with raised eyebrows but later, he understood. He was glad he could help you. A warm grin began to form on his face so he quickly looked away and pretended to be busy with something, while he kept an eye on you and checking when you are finished. It wasn't even ten minutes and your plate was empty. Completely empty.

After you wiped your lips and calmed your beast inside you a bit, you thanked and gave Logan a grateful puppy eyes. He smiled a bit and nodded. "Do you want more?" you shake your head even though you wouldn't mind extra portion.

There was an awkward silence for a while. Neither of you knew what to talk about, however both of you were thinking the exact same thing. What will happen next? Will Logan let you stay here or will he kick you out? You were so desperately curious, but too scared to ask.

You decided to use reverse psychology. "I should get going" Logan jerked his head and frowned. "Have you lost your mind?" you look up at him, eyes big and sparkling. "You can't leave, definitely not now" and your trick worked. Your heart warmed when Logan let you stay. He was the first person in a long time to be kind to you. You valued him immensely.

The evening came. You were so tired and looking forward to wrapping yourself in the covers and falling asleep. Logan let you sleep in his bed while he slept on the couch. It must've been really uncomfortable, but he wanted to give you some space.

You evoked something in him that no one had been able to do for a long time. Compassion. You both have a pretty similar past and you've been through hard times, why should he be mean to you? Plus, you looked so innocent, so soft and beautiful. Oh you are beautiful.

The moment you turned around and your eyes met, it was as if time stood still. He felt his heart race, yet everything around him faded into silence. Your gaze held him captive, soft yet intense, as though you could see through every layer of him.

You seemed both familiar and mysterious, like a dream he wanted to keep reliving. And your eyes, there was something about them. So bright, yet with a hidden depth, as if they held secrets you weren't ready to share. Just looking into them left him breathless, his thoughts scattering with each heartbeat.

As he lay on the couch, staring up at the ceiling, he couldn’t stop thinking about you. Of course, it was only natural that you’d occupy his thoughts; after all, you were a new event in his life. But this was different. He wasn’t just thinking about you in any ordinary way. His thoughts lingered on you in a way that maybe he shouldn’t have allowed.

There was a heat in his chest, a longing he couldn’t shake off. He couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to have you near in a way that went beyond the boundaries of mere thoughts. The thought of you, of the way you made him feel, ignited something inside of him…a desire, a craving, that he wasn’t sure how to control.

You weren't much better of.

You could feel it, the connection between you, like an invisible thread tugging at your heart, pulling your thoughts to him. As you lay beneath the blankets, you couldn’t escape the images of him. His face, rugged and intense. His hair, wild and untamed, like the ears of a wolf, a perfect reflection of his untouchable, yet undeniable nature. You could almost smell the mix of rum and cigarettes that clung to him, that scent that was both comforting and dangerously alluring.

But it was his hands, those massive hands, that lingered in your mind the most. They were like a sign of safety, as if Logan could protect you from the world. Even now, surrounded by the softness of the sheets, you couldn’t escape the heat Logan left behind, the longing that burned inside you.

You couldn’t sleep. Your mind was too consumed with thoughts of Logan. Every time you closed your eyes, his face was there, vivid in your mind. His intense gaze, the roughness of his voice, the way he moved. It was as if he was everywhere, and you couldn’t escape him, no matter how hard you tried.

You tossed and turned, the sheets tangled around you, but no matter what, sleep didn’t come. It was like your body and mind were in conflict. You were exhausted, but the thought of him wouldn’t let you rest.

Finally, as the hours passed, your thoughts began to blur, the constant tug of his presence softening. Slowly, your breathing slowed, and the weight of the day caught up with you. The last thing you remember was the faintest image of him lingering in your mind before sleep finally claimed you.

You woke with a start, gasping for air, your body drenched in sweat. Your heart raced as the remnants of the nightmare clung to you like a heavy fog. You were back in the lab, the sterile, suffocating air, the cold metal table beneath you, the sharp sting of needles, the hum of machines monitoring your every heartbeat. The doctors—no, they weren’t doctors—had done this to you.

The pain… it was unbearable. You had screamed in your mind, desperate to escape, to survive. But it hadn’t been enough. The dream always ended the same way: your body convulsing, your breath leaving you, your heart stopping. You died there.

And then, as the darkness closed in, your eyes shot open. The scream tore from your throat before you could stop it, raw and terrified. Your body trembled, the terror from the nightmare still alive inside you.

A voice, low and familiar, cut through the panic. “Hey, hey… are you okay?” Logan’s voice, filled with concern, echoed in the quiet of the room. You blinked rapidly, your eyes focusing on him. You were safe. Your were alive. But your mind was still trapped in that place, that nightmare. The pain, the fear… it was all too real.

“Logan…” you breathed, your voice shaking, your body still trembling as his presence grounded you.His brows furrowed as he moved closer, his hand instinctively reaching for your.

He took both your small, trembling hands into his one, massive palm, covering them completely. Logan's rough thumb gently stroked across the back of your hand, the warmth and weight of his touch grounding you, bringing you back from the dark memories of the nightmare.

“Hey,” he murmured softly, his voice low and comforting. “You’re safe now. You’re okay.” He kept his voice calm, his thumb continuing to trace soothing circles as he waited for your breathing to even out. Slowly, you began to calm, your fingers loosening in his grip.

“I… I had a nightmare,” you whispered, barely able to meet his eyes, feeling the remnants of fear still lingering. Logan gave a slight nod, his gaze steady and understanding. “It’s okay. I get those too.” He didn’t press you, just held your hands in his, keeping his presence steady, like an anchor. He stayed there a few moments longer, not moving, until he was sure you were truly alright.

When he finally started to release her hands and stand, her fingers tightened around his. “Wait… would you… stay with me?” You asked, hope and despair could be heard in your throbbing voice.

He glanced at you for a moment, reading the vulnerability in your eyes, and gave a brief nod. “Sure,” he said softly, settling back down by your side. You felt a wave of relief wash over you, as his presence remained close. Gently, he kept your hands in his, his steady, quiet strength surrounding you, until you drifted off again, finally feeling safe.

The sun's rays shone directly into your eyes through the blinds, waking you up. You moved a bit and left a pleased quiet yawn from your lips. You realized you were lying on top of Logan's bare chest, his massive hand resting on your hip. The realization left you in shock for a small moment. After all, it felt comfortable.

The heat from his body warmed yours, his heartbeat was slow in rhythm and you enjoyed listening to it. It was a lovely melody that you wouldn't get tired of.

You slowly looked over at Logan, who was still sleeping. You couldn’t help but let your gaze linger a bit longer, taking in every detail. The way his profile softened under the light, the relaxed way he held himself, like he belonged nowhere else but right here, right now. Your heart began to race, almost as if you'd just realized something you hadn’t quite let yourself feel before.

There was a flutter deep inside you, a mix of nerves and excitement, tiny, electric sparks that seemed to move from her your to your stomach, filling it with a soft, almost dizzying warmth.

You'd heard people talk about “butterflies,” but until now, you hadn’t understood just how real they were. It was overwhelming but oddly comforting at the same time, like an emotion you'd always wanted to feel but never quite believed you would.

You could barely focus, all your senses drawn toward Logan, wondering if he’d notice how your cheeks were flushed, or if he could sense the way your pulse seemed to echo in your ears. In that moment, everything else faded, and it was just you. Just you, discovering that maybe, just maybe, you were falling for him.

Suddenly, Logan woke up. You quickly closed your eyes, pretending to be asleep. You wanted to avoid any awkward situation where he might realize you'd been watching him sleep. What kind of creep does that? He’d definitely think you were crazy, and you weren't about to risk that.

He took a deep breath and clumsily looked around. He seemed confused, but you understood why. After a long, deep sleep, it made sense. Once he finally got his bearings, remembering where he was or who he was, he realized the position the two of you were in. He quickly jerked his hand away from your hip. Part of him enjoyed it, but he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. That was the last thing he wanted.

He yawned loudly, and you took the opportunity to pretend you are waking up too. He looked at you and couldn’t help but smile. Even though it was morning, you still looked so stunning and majestic. You glanced at him and pretended that you had only just realized you were lying on him. Quickly, you pulled away and cleared your throat awkwardly. He chuckled under his breath and stretched his arms.

“Good morning,” he said in his rough morning voice, sending strange waves of pleasure down between your legs. Quietly and shyly, you murmured a good morning back and stretched your back.

“Did you sleep better?” he asked, sitting up so he could at least see half of your face. You nodded, looking at him with a grateful smile. He returned the smile, and when he felt his cheeks starting to warm, he decided to get out of bed. “I’ll go make breakfast,” he added before leaving the room.

You couldn’t shake the lingering scent of Logan, as you lay in bed for a few moments longer. The nightmare had already faded from your mind. You stepped out of the room and made your way to the kitchen, where Logan was at the stove, frying eggs and bacon in a skillet. He looked up at her, did a quick double-take, and smiled. Inside, though, you felt anything but fresh. You felt grimy, sweaty, and were sure your breath wasn’t at its best. “Mind if I use your shower?” You asked softly, your voice shy. Logan nodded and pointed down the hall.

Before you left the room, though, you naturally realized, that your clothes weren't clean either. Feeling a bit nervous, you asked Logan again, “Um, and could I maybe borrow some of your clothes?”

The question seemed to catch him off guard, but he couldn’t say no. “Yeah, I’ve got some shirts in the closet,” he replied, focusing intently on the bacon in the pan without looking at you.

You whispered a soft thank you and went to find something of his to wear. You found a red flannel shirt, and it smelled incredible. You couldn’t resist, taking a deep inhale of the scent was like breathing in Logan himself, a scent so intoxicating it felt like a drug.

Finally, you went to shower, freshen up, and take care of a little hygiene. You tossed your dirty clothes aside and slipped into Logan’s shirt. It hung loosely around you, the hem falling nearly to your thighs and the sleeves draping well past your hands. It felt oversized, almost like a protective blanket, wrapping you in his warmth. His scent, smoky, rugged, with a hint of rum, was woven into the fabric, surrounding you completely.

As you stepped out of the bathroom, the warm scent of breakfast led you toward the kitchen. Logan had just finished setting the plates, but when he looked up and saw you in his oversized flannel shirt, he froze.

It was clear it was his, unmistakably his, and seeing you in it stirred something fierce within him. He couldn’t stop his eyes from roaming over you, taking in how small you looked wrapped up in his clothes. But it wasn't just that, It was the way it clung to you in places, falling just so across your curves, that drove him wild. The collar hung slightly open, teasing him with glimpses of bare skin, and he found himself aching to close that distance, to run his hands along your waist and pull you close, inhaling that soft scent of yours now mingled with his own.

He swallowed hard, silently praying you couldn’t read his thoughts, because the things running through his mind right then were nowhere near decent. Trying to keep his composure, he gave you a lopsided smile. Get it together, he thought, but it was hopeless. All he could think about was how right it felt to see you in his shirt and how much he was craving for your lips right now.

When Logan finished his breakfast, he pushed back from the table and wiped his mouth. He looked ready to leave, grabbing his jacket and placing his hands on the table, looking resolute, like he planned something.

“Alright, I’m heading out for a hunt. Need to stock up for the week,” he said, his voice firm and unwavering.

You paused for a moment, then looked up at him. You weren’t sure if that was a good idea. After all, the FBI is still looking for you and who knows if they'll come to search the cabin again. This time Logan won't be there to protect you. But it wasn't just the FBI that worried you. You didn't want to be alone. You didn't want Logan to leave for god knows how long. You wanted to be with him.

“Y-you're going hunting?” you assured, trying to keep your tone as casual as possible. “Yeah,” he replied, already moving toward the door. “Won’t take long. Just need to get an early start.” You didn’t want him to go alone, and you definitely didn’t want to stay behind.

“Can I come with you?” you blurted out quickly to get his attention before he left. Logan slowly turned and looked at you blankly. “I don’t have anything else to do and… I’d like to help. Can you take me with you?”

Logan was surprised. His eyes softened a bit, but he still seemed unsure. He lowered his head slightly, his face unreadable, as he thought it over. You couldn’t tell if he was considering the idea or just trying to decide how to say no.

“This isn’t exactly a leisure trip, you know?” he said, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. “And it’s not exactly safe. This isn’t the kind of place for someone without experience.”

But there was something in your eyes that made him hesitate. Maybe it was the fear in your eyes for being alone, or maybe you really wanted to learn hunting… Whatever it was, he didn’t dismiss the idea immediately.

“I know it’s not going to be easy,” you replied, looking at him intently. “But I’d feel better going with you…safer.”

Logan looked at you carefully, his gaze softening a little, though his posture was still tense. “Are you sure you can handle it?” You could tell he wasn’t as convinced as he sounded, but your puppy eyes were the last straw for him.

“Alright, fine,” he said, finally relenting. His voice was still serious, but his lips quirked into something like a smile. “Just keep up and don’t slow me down.” You smiled widely, your heart racing a little faster as you stand up from the table, excited.

Logan suddenly raised both hands, holding them in front of him like a stop sign, his expression playful but firm. “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” he said with a smirk, his eyes scanning you from head to toe. “Where exactly do you think you’re going in that outfit?”

His tone was teasing, but there was a flicker of seriousness and concern in his gaze. You look down at yourself and realize you were wearing just his shirt and panties. This is probably not a best suit for hunting.

You looked back at Logan apologetically and a little embarrassed. He shook his head amused and went to hand you some pants.

"I hope they fit...I wore them when I was 14" You both giggled and you put the pants on right in front of him. He watched you the whole time and when you were finally dressed formally, you went out.

You walked with Logan into the woods, your eyes darting cautiously to every shadow and rustling leaf. The thought of the FBI lurking around still haunted you, keeping you tense and alert with every step. But gradually, Logan’s mere presence started to ease your nerves, grounding you in a sense of safety. He didn’t need to say anything; just being near him seemed to calm your racing mind.

Then, a sudden snap of a branch echoed through the trees. Without thinking, you moved closer to Logan, pressing against him instinctively. Your heartbeat quickened, and your breath caught in your chest, certain that you were being watched. But Logan, calm and unbothered, scanned the trees and then nodded toward the source of the sound.

“It’s just a squirrel,” he murmured with a small, amused smile.

You exhaled, your shoulders relaxing as you glanced up at him, feeling a little silly but reassured.

You and Logan kept moving deeper into the woods, his steady pace reassuring even as you couldn’t quite shake the edge of tension from earlier. After a while, Logan spotted a deer grazing in the distance. He motioned for you to be quiet, and the two of you slowly crept toward it.

You both took cover behind a bush, and you watched as Logan readied himself to take aim. But something in you hesitated, you couldn’t help but feel for the gentle creature standing unaware, and a wave of reluctance washed over you. Turning to him, you whispered, trying to convince him, “It’s just a helpless animal…”

Logan’s jaw tightened, a hint of irritation crossing his face. But after a moment, his expression softened as he looked at you, and he let out a quiet sigh. Though a bit begrudgingly, he lowered his weapon.

“Fine,” he muttered, barely concealing a small smirk. Together, you moved on to search for something smaller, Logan leading the way with a slight shake of his head, as if both amused and exasperated.

After walking a little further, you both spotted a wild boar rummaging around the forest floor. Though the idea still tugged painfully at you, you managed to steel yourself, accepting that Logan would take this one down. Once again, you crouched behind cover, careful to stay hidden from the boar’s sight.

Logan took aim and fired, the shot ringing out sharply in the quiet of the woods. You flinched slightly, a quick jolt of surprise, but it wasn’t as bad as you expected. With just one shot, Logan brought the boar down, his skill evident in that single, precise hit. “Come on” he clicked his head towards the animal and you slowly followed him.

When you reached the fallen animal, a wave of sadness stirred in you, seeing it lying there. Logan noticed your expression, and without a word, he stepped closer to you, his gaze softening.

He placed a warm, steady hand on your shoulder, grounding you. “Hey,” he murmured gently, his voice low and calm. “It’s alright. I know this feels…heavy.” His hand moved in a slow, reassuring circle, and you could feel the tension in your body start to melt just a little.

“Hunting isn’t easy, but sometimes it’s necessary. Out here, it’s survival.”

You looked up at him, catching the quiet sympathy in his eyes. The faint lines at the corners of his eyes softened as he gave you a small smile. “We use what we take,” he added, as if sensing you needed something more to ease your mind. “Nothing goes to waste.”

His thumb brushed your shoulder with an unexpected tenderness, and the weight on your chest began to lift. You nodded, still feeling a little heavy-hearted but reassured by his words. “Thank you,” you whispered, feeling his warmth seeping through you.

Logan gave your shoulder one last squeeze, lingering just a moment before he released you. “Come on,” he said, his tone back to its usual steady resolve. “We’ll take care of him. I’ll show you how.”

He began to prepare the boar, his movements efficient but respectful, and you felt grateful that he understood the balance between survival and compassion.

Logan already carried two boars effortlessly over his shoulders, his strength nothing short of superhuman. Watching him handle such weight so casually stirred a flicker of admiration and something else, a heated thrill you couldn’t quite ignore.

When he looked over with a faint smirk, you felt warmth rise to your cheeks and quickly glanced away, flustered. Logan caught the gesture, and a low chuckle escaped him.

Then, without warning, he pressed a firm hand against your chest, stopping you in your tracks. His gaze turned serious, and he tilted his head toward the trees up ahead. “See that?” he whispered, nodding toward another boar just in the distance.

You nodded, heart thumping a little faster. Together, you crept forward, crouching low as you hid yourselves behind a bush. Logan carefully lowered the animals he was carrying to the ground and pulled out his rifle, eyes focused on the target. For a few seconds, he lined up his shot, but then he turned his gaze toward you, a determined glint in his eye.

“If you’re going to survive out here, you’re going to have to learn how to handle this,” he murmured, holding the rifle out to you. With a nod, he motioned for you to move in closer.

For a moment, you hesitated, but the intensity in Logan’s eyes drew you in. You stepped closer, until you were pressed against him, his sturdy form shielding you from behind. The closeness felt reassuring, comforting even, yet you struggled to focus on anything other than the way his body molded perfectly against yours.

Slowly, you reached out for the rifle, feeling its unexpected weight. Sensing your effort, Logan wrapped his hands around yours, helping you hold it steady. You both gripped it together, his strong hands guiding yours.

The warmth of Logan’s chest pressed against your back sent shivers down your spine, awakening a flood of excitement that you couldn’t control. His strong arms surrounded you, hands wrapped firmly around yours on the rifle, steady and commanding. Each breath he took brushed softly against your neck, and you found yourself unable to think of anything but his presence. Solid, protective, and impossibly close.

His touch was rough but careful, and the way his fingers enveloped yours made your pulse race. You couldn’t ignore the way his grip felt, strong and possessive, sending waves of thrill and desire through you.

He covered you like a protective barrier, making you feel safe enough to face anything.

“All right,” he murmured in a voice that was dark, smooth, almost too tempting. “Now, aim at him.” His breath brushed your ear, making it even harder to concentrate. Your fingers touched his where they rested over yours, sending sparks down your spine. But you tried your best to focus, steadying your gaze on the boar ahead.

“That’s it,” he encouraged softly, his voice a low rumble that made you take a deep breath, willing yourself to keep your aim.

Your hands were shaking a bit, but Logan’s massive hands kept the rifle steady, guiding it in perfect alignment. “Shoot,” he commanded, and for a moment, you hesitated, unsure of yourself. But then, with a gentle push from him, you squeezed the trigger, and the shot rang out. The impact sent a jolt through you, and you stumbled slightly backward into Logan’s chest. He chuckled softly, glancing down at you.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice low and reassuring. You nodded quickly, eyes already moving to the wild boar lying motionless on the ground.

“You did it. Good job,” he praised, and the words sent another wave of satisfaction rushing through you, a pleasant heat spreading between your thighs.

Logan then stood, offering his hand to help you up, and you both walked over to inspect the boar. You felt terrible, a heavy weight pressing on your chest as you stared at the lifeless body of the wild boar, the one you had just killed. The realization hit you like a punch to the gut, and a wave of guilt washed over you. But Logan didn’t seem bothered by it at all.

Without hesitation, he hoisted the dead boar over his shoulders, along with the two others, and started walking back toward the cabin with you.

Before getting in the truck, he tossed the animals into the back with ease, as though it was nothing. Then he climbed into the driver’s seat, leaving you standing outside, unsure of what to do next.

“Hop in!” Logan called out with a grin, and you quickly obeyed, climbing into the truck. “We’re going to the store. I’ll need something,” he said, and with a turn of the key, the engine roared to life.

As soon as you stepped into the store, everything felt new. You had never been inside a store before, and it amazed you. Shelves upon shelves filled with things you’d never seen, snacks, drinks, and foods that were completely unfamiliar to you. Logan had told you to stay close to him, but the overwhelming curiosity got the best of you. You couldn’t help but wander around, eyeing all the delicious treats you had no idea existed.

Suddenly, three men approached you. “Hey cutie” one of the slimy guys called out making you turn around. You raised your eyebrows innocently and incomprehension as you watched them approach you. They kept whispering something to each other and laughing, in a very creepy way.

"Damn you're a snack!" "Nice curves you've got there!" they said and kept getting closer. You backed up until you hit a shelf, not allowed to move away from them anymore. "What's a hot chick like you doing in a place like this?" the tallest guy with a beard, that smelled like rotten fish, reached out and tried to touch your arm. You flinched, trying to step away, but they only followed.

You took another step back, hoping to escape their grip, but it was no use. Another hand reached out to brush against your waist, sending a shiver of discomfort down your spine. “Yeah, come on sweetheart, don’t be shy. Let us show you a good time.”

Your heart raced, fear bubbling inside, but before you could react, you heard a familiar, low voice. “I think she’s good, boys”

He was standing there now, his arms crossed, his presence like a wall of muscle, dark eyes locked on the men. His voice was calm but deadly serious.

“And who the hell are you? You some kinda hero?”

Logan stepped closer, his gaze never leaving them. “No, I’m not. But I’ll make sure you wish you were never born if you keep this up.”

The men hesitated, clearly weighing their options. Logan’s stance and cold, threatening tone made them think twice. He reached out, grabbing one by the collar and pulling him a few inches off the ground.

“You’d better walk away. Now.” The men quickly realized they were outmatched, and with a few muttered curses, they backed off, turning and walking away in defeat. Logan kept his eyes on them, waiting until they were completely gone before letting the tension in his body ease.

He turned to you, his expression softening just slightly, though still protective. “You good?” You nodded, feeling a wave of relief wash over you, though your heart was still racing. Logan’s presence had been a shield, and you couldn’t help but feel safe again.

You quietly thanked him, and Logan simply nodded. He didn’t hesitate any longer, unwilling to risk more men getting too close to you. Gently, he grabbed your waist and pulled you to his side, holding you there. You didn’t protest.

Logan’s usual cool demeanor had a hint of something else now, something possessive, as his hand rested firmly on your side. He wasn’t just guarding you, he was claiming you in a way. His thoughts were elsewhere, likely simmering with anger over what had just happened. Though he’d tried to handle things calmly with words, the desire to protect you at all costs was stronger than ever.

He might’ve been trying to be civil, but if anyone tried something again, there would be no hesitation. Logan would’ve torn them apart in seconds if you weren’t around. He had a certain control over himself, but it was clear, he didn’t like anyone stepping too close to what was his.

You came to the register, Logan paid and you left. You didn't exchange a word until then. "What would you like for dinner?" he asked, turning the subject away. He didn't want to discuss the uncomfortable situation further and make you feel uneasy. Talking about food seemed like a better topic to him.

“I don't know” Logan left you from his grip, when you were already at the car. You got inside, where Logan placed the grocery bag in the back seat, before starting the car. "We'll figure something out"

It was evening when you were finally back at the cabin, and Logan was in the kitchen, preparing dinner. The scent of fresh ingredients filled the air, mixing with the smoky, earthy aroma of the forest outside. He was focused, moving with the kind of purpose you admired. You sat on the couch, leaning back into the cushions, watching him from where you were. You were wearing a new shirt, his shirt, of course, but nothing else but your underwear.

As your eyes traced the muscles in his arms, the way his body moved as he chopped and stirred, you felt yourself growing more and more captivated by him. The warmth from the kitchen contrasted with the cool air in the room, but it only added to the heat that built inside you, a feeling that had nothing to do with temperature.

You wanted to help, of course, but when you offered, Logan shook his head. “You should rest,” he said softly, glancing over his shoulder at you, a smirk curling at the corner of his mouth. “I’ve got this.”

With a small, reluctant sigh, you sank back further into the couch, feeling the warmth of the room settle around you. Logan finished preparing the meal, but instead of rushing to serve, he made you a cup of warm tea. The steam rose up, delicate and soothing. He handed it to you with a soft smile, the heat of the cup spilling into your hands, grounding you in the moment.

You wrapped your fingers around the warm ceramic, grateful for the comfort he offered, both physically and emotionally. The tenderness, the care he took in everything he did for you, it made you feel both vulnerable and cherished.

Logan leaned against the counter, watching you with those intense eyes of his, the same gaze that had been on you since the moment you met. It was as though you were the only thing that mattered in that moment. And you couldn’t deny the way it made your heart race.

Logan finished preparing the meal, a hearty dish of seared steaks, roasted vegetables, and mashed potatoes, the savory smells filling the cabin and making your stomach growl with anticipation. He set the plates down on the coffee table in front of the couch where you were sitting, making sure everything was just right. You couldn’t help but smile, taking in the scene. The warm glow of the lights in the cabin made it feel cozy and intimate, a stark contrast to the chaos of your past.

You both settled onto the couch, Logan taking a seat beside you. The food was delicious, and even though the conversation wasn’t centered around anything important, it felt grounding. Logan had a way of making even the smallest details sound interesting. His deep voice, full of humor, washed over you as he shared stories of his time on the road, a mix of ridiculous adventures and near-disasters.

Logan’s laughter was like music, deep and genuine. He didn’t laugh often, but when he did, it was as if the weight of the world had been lifted from him, even if only for a moment. You couldn’t help but laugh along, his energy infectious, his smile that much brighter when he caught your eye.

As you both continued eating, you realized how easy it was to be with him. There was no need to act or pretend, no awkward silences or forced small talk. For the first time in what felt like forever, you were completely at ease. The sound of Logan’s voice, the warmth of the food, the softness of the couch beneath you, it all felt like home.

You didn’t even notice how much time had passed, how the world outside the cabin had ceased to exist in that moment. For the first time in years, you felt truly happy.

Logan’s eyes caught yours, a small smile on his lips. “What?” he asked, noticing your gaze. You shook your head, a soft chuckle escaping your lips. “Nothing, just… this feels nice,” you said, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

Logan raised an eyebrow, a grin tugging at his mouth. “Nice, huh? You sure know how to flatter a guy.” You laughed, feeling a warmth spread through you, but it wasn’t just from the food. It was from being here, with him. Safe. Comfortable. Content.

“I mean it,” you said, your voice softer now. “For the first time in a long time, I feel like… I don’t have to worry about anything.”

Logan paused, his fork hovering in the air for a second before he set it down on his plate. His gaze softened, just for a moment, before he looked away. “I get that,” he muttered, almost to himself. “Things don’t have to be complicated, not when you’re with the right people.”

You felt your heart skip a beat at his words, his sincerity making you feel something deep within. You wanted to believe him, wanted to believe that for once, you could just be happy. That you didn’t need to keep fighting.

He looked back at you, his expression now more serious. “I’m glad you’re here,” he said, his voice low, yet filled with an honesty that hit you in a way you hadn’t expected.

Your chest tightened with emotion, and you nodded, trying to mask how much those words meant. It was strange, how something so simple could affect you so much. But then again, everything with Logan felt different, more real.

The night wore on, and the two of you shared stories, laughed, and ate. The weight of the world didn’t seem as heavy as it had just hours ago. You were no longer thinking about the FBI or what had brought you here. You were only thinking about the present, about Logan.

“Hey, can I ask you something?” Logan’s voice was casual, but there was something in it that caught your attention. You nodded, waiting for him to continue. He took a final bite of his food, chewing slowly before setting his plate down with a soft clink.

“Have you ever been with anyone?” The question hung in the air, unexpected and direct. It startled you, leaving you unsure of how to respond. Your mind raced, and for a moment, you didn’t know how to answer. Logan, sensing the hesitation, quickly shifted his tone, as if trying to soften the impact. But you still found yourself replying simply, “No. I never really had the chance.”

He seemed to understand, nodding thoughtfully. “If you had the chance, though, I bet you’d have no trouble at all.”

You laughed nervously and shook your head in disbelief. “No way… I don’t think so.”

Logan’s expression softened as he leaned slightly forward, his eyes never leaving yours. There was a seriousness in his voice when he spoke again, but a warmth too. “Yes way, I mean look at you. You’re beautiful, not just on the outside, but in everything you are. The way you carry yourself, your strength, the way you laugh, it all draws people in. You have this… presence. I can’t imagine anyone not wanting to be close to you.”

The sincerity in his words made your breath catch. It was as though every insecurity you’d hidden deep inside was being slowly unraveled, laid bare in the best possible way. His words, simple but heartfelt, wrapped around you like a comforting blanket, making you feel seen in a way you hadn’t in a long time.

Logan kept speaking, his words filling the space between you. “I’ve never met anyone like you.” His voice was deep, full of admiration, and you could feel how much he meant it. “You’ve got this amazing energy, this fire. I don’t know how you do it.”

But despite his compliments, something inside you was aching to stop him, to silence all those words. You wanted him in a way you couldn’t explain, something fierce that pulsed through your veins. You couldn’t hold back any longer. You leaned in, your breath catching as you pressed your lips gently against his.

Logan was surprised at first, barely reacting, his lips soft under yours. He wasn’t expecting this, and neither were you, but the spark that ignited between you two was undeniable.

Before you could even think, Logan’s hands found their way to the back of your neck, pulling you closer. His lips parted, deepening the kiss. This time, there was no hesitation. His kiss was hungry, passionate, like he couldn’t get enough of you. You felt his fingers move, cupping your face gently, as though he was afraid of breaking something precious between you. But you weren’t fragile. You weren’t scared.

You responded, matching his intensity, the heat between you two overwhelming, leaving you both breathless.

You put your plate down on the table as Logan's weight weighed you down, so you were underneath him. He didn't want to rush into anything, but at the same time, he couldn't keep that desire inside him for long.

He was kissing you hungrily and you kissed him back, your fingers found a place between his soft hair, which you pulled and messed up. His knee, without his intention, slowly rubbed against your panties. He created the pressure that you wanted for a long time. Your core was pulsating, greedily, desperately wanting something to drive away that annoying lust.

Your lips leaving a soft moans between the kisses, making Logan's pants tighter. Your sweet sound made it hard for Logan to be patient with you. His hands were slowly moving down, gently exploring your body. Every touch of his filled you with doses of adrenaline. Your hips were carefully rocking against Logan's knee as a natural instinct. He scoffed and stopped kissing you to take a look at you.

"Someone's eager huh?" His voice sounded mocking but at the same time, irritated you much more than his leg against your core. You wanted him. You needed him. Lust like you've never experienced before. It was stronger than hunger or thirst, it was much more intense.

You had no idea what was happening to you but you knew you needed Logan. Much, much closer. He didn't need to read minds to see how frantically you needed this.

He lunged at your lips again, much more wildly. One of his hands traveled quite quickly to your legs. When he reached your thighs, he massaged you for a while there. Oh god he needed it as badly as you did.

He couldn't remember the last time he had good sex. It's been a while since he's been living alone in this cabin with only the animals around. Of course, when he got the hang of it, he masturbated, but over time he got tired of it. But the moment you appeared in his sight, you reawakened in him the flame of passion and especially erection, which he was still trying to hide and suppress whenever you were near him.

But now was the time when you both could finally indulge. To relax, achieve pleasure and share the most intimate moment with the person who saved you.

Logan's hand smoothly moved from your thigh to your inner thigh, way too close to the point you wanted him the most. You tried to move your hips so that he would finally touch you. He chuckled softly, noticing your movements. “Easy there”

His middle finger started gently brushing you through your panties. Your eyes widened, as you felt a tickle warm feeling in your lower stomach. You couldn't describe what exactly you felt but it was breathtaking. You couldn't get enough of it.

Logan was careful, gentle and obedient, but you kept implying that you wanted the exact opposite. You wanted more, more pressure, more fingers, but most of all you wanted him to finally take off your panties. You bit your lower lip, trying to be quiet as the soft groans of desperation started leaving your throat, without even realizing it.

"Come on princess, let me hear you" Logan put more pressure into his finger, making you close your eyes and drop your jaw. You couldn't control your voice anymore and that was exactly what Logan wanted. Hearing your moaning and seeing your eyebrows twitching in pleasure, made his dick even harder.

He wanted to feel you, he wanted to taste you, that's why he grabbed your panties made of soft fabric and pulled them off you in one swipe. You gasped a bit as the cold fresh air touched your bare core, wet and pulsating.

When Logan saw your pussy, his breath caught in his chest. You were beautiful. The transparent glistening liquid on your labia was driving him crazy. It looked like the most delicious meat he would ever taste and he decided to not waste any more time, even though he would love to look at you even longer.

He got on his knees on the couch, lowering himself so that his head was right between your thighs. You lowered your head, heavy breathing and heart beating like never before. This image will be etched in your memory forever. His devilish smile and flirtatious wink was the last time you saw, before you started seeing stars.

He buried his face into your cunt, his nose teasing your clit while his tongue was swirling around your surface. He licked off all your wetness while you had to catch on to something. You grab his already disheveled hair, pulling and tugging him.

Your strokes, which Logan barely felt, made him growl against you, sending pleasent vibration right into your core. "Logan" you gasped as his tongue finally penetrated you. He was stretching you and surprisingly, it didn't hurt at all. You were so horny that his penetration was smooth without any problems.

You bit your lips again, creating a bloody mess there, but you could care less. You kept moving your hips awkwardly as Logan created a volcano of emotions inside you. His tongue touched your walls, twirling around and tasting every drop of your juice. On top of that, his nose didn't stop at deliberately provoking your sensitive clit, sending you closer and closer to orgasm.

Logan kept his eyes on you. He watched as your nostrils flared, your brows furrowed, and your muscles tensed beyond belief trying to hold on. You could feel his cocky smile, as your walls started to tighten around his tongue. He knew you were close. “You taste so good”

Your grunt grew louder with every flick of Logan's tongue, your hips moving against his face, before you felt a pressing sensation in your lower abdomen. Goosebumps covered your entire body and a chill ran down your spine, before it happened. Your jaw fall open, your eyes tight close and you shouted over the entire cottage, that even the birds outside flew away.

You squirm all over Logan's face. The feeling of release washed over you until you fell from the height and struggled to catch your breath. Logan licked you, he was very dusty and didn't want to leave even a drop of your cum. The overstimulation started heating up your core.

Logan moved away from your crotch, sitting on his ankles and watching you for a moment. Even though you were drained, you still looked stunning. You opened your eyes when you felt huge warm hands on your cheeks. "That's my girl" you chuckled, your eyelids felt heavy but you couldn't stop looking at Logan's face. He still had the rest of your squirm on his chin and nose, glistening through the rays of cozy light around the room.

"Are you ready?" your heart skipped a beat at his question, but his messy hair with face like an angel made you nod your head. Logan smiled with a huff, kissing you harshly. His hands weren't as careful as before, he was reaching all over you and didn't hesitate to touch you under your, actually his, shirt at all.

You cooperated with his passionate kissing, both of you sighing. Suddenly you felt something poking you which started to annoy you. You pulled away from Logan's lips and looked down to see his huge erection still trapped in his pants. Your eyes widened and your core started pulsating again. Logan noticed your staring and couldn't help but chuckle.

“What are you lookin' at?” you quickly look back into his eyes, embarrassed. As a result, you started to blush and had to suck your lips into a thin line. God Logan adored you.

"Don't worry sweetie" he leans, brushing his lips against your ear as his hot breath warmed your skin. “You'll get it” with those words, he covered your face in soft kisses. You were enjoying it until you heard belt unfastening and a zipper. You knew it was coming and you couldn't wait. You were so heated up and that Logan's cock could cool you down.

You felt the excitement spread throughout your body, as Logan's pants fell onto the floor. You already felt something hard tickling you in your inner thigh. You were impatient. You let out an eager purr, indicating that you absolutely needed to have Logan inside you. He sense your hints and the uncontrollable movements of your hips, fervently trying to get some friction.

Logan look at you, eyes dark with lust, before he presses his lips against yours and at that exact same time, he slowly thrust into you. You squeak, eyes widened as he stretched your walls extremely wide. You were wrapped around him, so fucking tight. His precum mixed with the remaining juices inside you, creating a useful natural lubricant.

"Fuck" he dropped his forehead against yours, his hot breathing in shallow, uneven gasps as he continued his way to get fully inside you. You were quietly whimpering, eyes closed but you felt amazing. Logan's presence so close to you finally got rid of that aggravating aching between your legs.

“Hold onto me baby,” Logan kept comforting you and whispering sweet things that made your heart beat faster. “Just like that” his voice low and hard, ruspy in a way that tickled your eardrums. You automatically wrapped your legs around Logan's waist when he was inside to the base. You felt so full, but that it still wasn't enough. You begged for more.

Logan, like a true gentleman, let you get used to him and catch a breath a little, before he started the rodeo. He moved his pan with incredibly gentle movements. His tip touching and provoking your cervix and places you didn't even know could be reached.

Your mouth opened automatically as you were sighing, your voice pitch and strong. "You like that?" Logan was looking at you and even though you couldn't see him, you instinctively suspected that he was watching you. You didn't mind. You didn't mind at all. You nodded carelessly and threw your head back as Logan started to pick up the pace.

Exactly what you needed and wanted. It's like he's reading your mind. As if he knew your body perfectly and knew exactly what you want, what you desire, what you need.

He took both of your hands and held them tightly as he placed them above your head. Again, you didn't mind. Your only focus was his cock in your vagina. How wonderful he feels. How his massive cock touches every sensitive spot inside you, slowly but surely bringing you to climax.

“Look at you,” he said with a smile as he fought himself not to empty himself into you yet. You're making it really hard for him though. "Such a...." he dropped his head as his dick started twitching, his thrusts gained strength and intensity. "Such a good girl”

He felt it. You felt it too. You stopped perceiving your surroundings, your ears started ringing and the rumbling in your stomach burned. Logan, on the other hand, felt he wouldn't last much longer.

He quickly unbuttoned your shirt, the buttons flew around but it was a blast for both of you. Your breasts bounced to the rhythm of Logan's thrusting, which started being unbearable. He lost control of his pelvis and movements in order to catch up with his orgasm. He got on his knees, freeing your hands but held your hips firmly, while keep pounding into you without mercy.

"You feel s-so good" he groaned his eyes tightly shut as he felt his orgasm being implausibly close. Your legs started shaking, vibrating. You stopped feeling your toes and that's when you felt it. You arch your back, jaw wide open while you moaned really, really loudly.

Your walls tightened around Logan's length, but he didn't stop. All of your muscles stiffened until in one moment, they suddenly relaxed and you let out a soft sigh of relief. Logan chuckled when you cum all over his dick and decided not to wait for his moment anymore. Few more hard thrust, before he pulled out and sprayed your belly with his seed.

His moan was really intense and turned you on again, plus the realization that he made this sound just because of you, your heart was melting.

After that he collapsed on you but carefully, not to smash your tiny body. His forehead was leaning against yours, both of you breathing heavily while giggling. "That was...awesome" Logan sighed, making you laugh and blush. It was that good, that you couldn't even talk. But Logan made sure that there was no awkward silence.

"You were quite loud, princess,” your cheeks started to blush but you didn't break eye contact with Logan, even with such close proximity. “Always so quiet and mysterious… but in bed? You’re not afraid of that, are you?” you were terribly shy, but in a good way. You didn't know you could make such sounds yourself.

He grinned, seeing you all red and sweaty was a moment of comfort for him. He didn't want to admit it, but he felt butterflies in his stomach and they just wouldn't go away since he saw you.

"Come on, let's get you clean up" Logan grunted as he stood up and didn't ask you, just grabbed you and carried you into the bathroom like a princess. You didn't complain, you swung your legs and rested your head on his chest, feeling indescribably good with him.

A few years had passed, and the life you and Logan had built together only grew deeper and richer with time. You’d both settled into a quiet, natural rhythm, a blend of strength and softness, of trust and a fierce loyalty that had grown from countless shared moments, both big and small. Logan, once guarded and wary, had opened up to you in ways neither of you expected, revealing a side that was as protective and tender as it was wild. And you, too, had found a quiet courage within yourself, rooted in him and in the life you shared. Your bond felt like something timeless and unbreakable, a connection that had only strengthened as the years drifted by, like roots that had grown deep and steady in the rich earth of your love.

Logan stood outside the cabin, dressed only in a pair of worn, dark-gray sweatpants that clung to his muscular frame. His gaze stretched out over the rugged landscape, eyes fixed on the rolling hills and dense trees, but his thoughts were somewhere far beyond the scenery. The dawn air was cool, mist rising in thin wisps over the ground, and Logan breathed it in slowly, grounding himself in the calm solitude of nature. His rugged face was softened in the morning light, deep in thought, a rare vulnerability showing in his expression as he seemed to wrestle with something private, something known only to him.

Then, as if sensing him, you stepped quietly onto the porch, carrying a small, bundled form against your chest. You approached him with a warmth and excitement that seemed to break through his solitude. The tiny child in your arms cooed softly, and Logan, feeling your presence before even hearing a sound, turned around. His face lit up with an expression that was a blend of pride, awe, and something deeper, something fierce and protective.

With a gentle smile, you cradled his newborn closer, offering the child toward him. Logan’s face softened, and he reached out, his large, roughened hand brushing over the child’s head with an almost reverent touch.

“She really do have your nose,” he murmured, a smirk breaking across his face as he looked up at you.

You laughed softly, stepping close to wrap your arm around his waist. Logan pulled you in, his warmth settling around you both. Together, you looked out over the vast expanse of trees and sky stretching endlessly before you, wrapped in the serenity of the moment.

“Can you believe this?” you whispered, resting your head on his shoulder.

Logan’s voice was low but sure. “Wouldn’t trade it for anything.” He pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead, his rough hand squeezing your shoulder gently.

The life you shared with him in that moment, under the quiet sky, was both humbling and thrilling, an unexpected future he never dared to hope for but now couldn’t imagine living without.

[aeliuss]

Featuring: pussydrunk!chan x afab reader

Genre: smut with the tinniest of plots lol

Warnings: chris is reader's fiance, cunnilingus, semi-public sex (bathroom stall) and over all smut smutty smut.....yeah. minors do NOT interact

Notes: what i do for you guys (and myself). feedback is always appreciated! or you can hit me up and we can squeal together lol

chan is horny. like, unbelievably so.

which, in itself is incredibly inappropriate since he's currently at the work function you invited him to, in trousers that he cannot afford to have a hard-on in, but it's not his fault. how could he not be, when you're walking around the ballroom in your pretty little slip dress, hair brushed to the side, as you interacted with your coworkers. you're so graceful, so professional, so put together, so--

delectable.

he clears his throat, adjusting his pants and sitting up, forcing himself to tear his eyes away from you and back on one of your coworkers, who has been speaking to him for the past five minutes about the company's goals. he could not give less of a shit to be honest, but he's here for you, so he makes the effort, smiling and nodding when appropriate, the picture of a loving, supportive fiance.

that is, until he has your dress bunched up to your hips as gets to his knees in front of you.

he doesn't know how you two got here, just that he met your eyes over the shoulder of you blabbering coworker and suddenly, he was excusing himself, and through a flurry of movement, and mumbled apologies, you two were suddenly in the only place you could get a sliver of privacy--a bathroom stall.

"chris, my dress--" you whine when he shoves it upwards unceremoniously, forcing you to curl your fingers around the hem. "it's gonna get wrinkled and I have to give a speech later."

his deft fingers curl around the waistband of your panties and he looks up at you. "sweetheart....you know I love you, but I don't give a shit about your dress."

"we can't do this here," you protest, trying to regain some sense of composure, but your words come out in breathy whispers as his fingers trail teasingly along the edge of your panties. you can feel the heat pooling between your thighs, your body betraying your protests.

he chuckles, keeping his eyes on yours as he litters kisses on your inner thighs. "can't we?"

your scent enveloped him, intoxicating and sweet, as his fingers deftly peeled away your panties, his gaze never leaving yours. your already wet, and normally, any other time, chan would comment on how needy you were for him, how you were already sopping and he hasn't even touched you--but today? today he was the needy one, practically drooling at the sight of you.

"so pretty, baby," it comes out in a desperate sigh. "so so pretty."

before you can respond, he is flattening his tongue across your entire vulva, dragging it up slowly. his fingers tighten around your thighs when you jump, steadying you, but also keeping you in place for him.

he can't help the groan he makes at the taste of you as he sucks on your labia, lapping up at the juices you're already releasing. "fucking made for me," his words send vibrations into your pussy in a way that makes your knees weak.

your breath hitches, a soft moan escaping your lips as you bite down on your bottom lip, trying to stifle the sounds. the last thing you need is for someone to hear you, but the way chan is devouring you makes it nearly impossible. his tongue works with an expertise that drives you wild, alternating between broad, slow strokes and quick flicks that have you teetering on the edge.

"chris," you whisper, your voice trembling. "we really... we shouldn't—"

in answer, he maneuvers one of your legs so that it's resting on his shoulder so that he can press his face further against your pussy, inhaling deeply. the world outside the stall fades away, the murmur of conversations and clinking glasses becoming a distant hum as his tongue delves deeper. his fervor is almost worshipful, the way he licks and sucks at your clit with a fervent devotion, the tip of his nose brushing teasingly against your clit with every movement.

"please," you moan, your voice breaking. it's not clear what you're pleading for—more, less, for him to stop before someone finds you, or for him to never stop.

he responds with a growl, the sound vibrating through you as he doubles his efforts, alternating between gentle licks and intense suction, pushing you higher and higher until you're trembling. he knows exactly what you need, exactly how to push you to the brink and hold you there, teetering on the edge of release.

he's there when the coil in your lower belly finally snaps, tongue eagerly waiting to lap up everything you give him--and lap up he does. he is so lost in your taste, that you have to physically push him away, thighs already shaking because of the way he is overstimulating you.

he lets you push his head back by his hair, leaning his neck back to give you a perfect view of the glistening of your juices on his lips and the tip of his nose.

you can't help but let out a shaky laugh, a mix of nerves and disbelief at the situation you've found yourselves in. " we really need to get back to the party," you whisper, trying to regain some sense of rationality, even as your body still hums with the aftermath of his expert ministrations.

"right." he stands, helping you smooth down your dress and you up at him nervously.

"does it look okay?"

he gives you a once over, lips trembling in his effort to stop them from curling. your cheeks are flushed, dress wrinkled and he could see the fabric quiver slightly.

you groan.

"it looks awful doesn't it?"

"nah," he plants a soft, lingering kiss against your lips. "looks amazing. now how 'bout that speech, yeah?"

[merriclo]

just remembered i decided to give Wind a gun in my au. this is gonna be fantastic.

[thewickedjazzy]

Level 1 : “Unveiled” [cyberstalking] for Kinktober.

♡stalker! fyodor d. x afab! reader.

♡Synopsis: your secret life as a streamer takes a wild turn when feyda becomes dangerously obsessed with you, well uh.. obsessed enough to break in, not just to watch, but to finally fuck you.

♡Warnings: ņsfw, mdni, smųt with plot, cyberstalking, cybersex, obsessed! fedya, bdsm themes, non-con recording, dark themes, bondage, oral, cum mentioned, unprotected sex..etc.

♡Word count & a/n: 4k, i'm so sorry. i know i'm horrendously late. i may or may not morph into some sort of poetic lunatic by the end of this fic ppft. also, shoutout to fedya’s art by the brilliant " @isabeau333 " on x.

[SEE: Kink Coin & Winners Scoreboard]

it’s 1:46 a.m. again. you’re sitting on your bed, eyes wide open, staring at the glow of your phone screen. tonight feels different, but you can’t wrap your finger on why. there's a stillness in your own bedroom that makes your skin prickle with unease. you should be asleep by now—work’s in a few hours—but your body hums with a strange kind of thrill. a thrill you haven’t felt since him.

you unlock your phone and scroll through your messages—nothing. the usual fans, the usual comments. until you see it, your heart nearly leaps out of your chest as you catch the latest one:

unknown: “don’t bother, my dear. i’m already inside.”

unconsciously, your breath catches in your throat. inside? inside where? your fingers freeze as you stare at the screen. is someone actually stalking you? you can't help but think what if it’s just a prank, someone trying to mess with you, make you think that you're crazy or something.

but deep down, you know better.

because nothing exciting ever really happens to you. not in your real life, anyway. you’ve got your 9-to-5 job, well, the same routine every day as it was before him. you come home, make lunch, and watch a show to unwind from the long, exhausting day at work. mundane. predictable.

but after midnight, everything changes.

it’s the part of your life no one knows about. not even your closest friends. as soon as the clock hits 12, you shift into someone else entirely. that secret side of you comes alive, and for a few hours every night, you stream games to a hidden audience, identity shielded by the anonymity of your kitsune mask.

you’re known online as "kitsunekitten," a name that’s grown more popular than you ever expected. thousands of fans tune in religiously to watch you play everything from dishonoured to lies of p, dead cells, or resident evil. and with every stream, your fanbase grows. the praise, the attention—it feels good.

your phone buzzes again.

unknown: “look behind you.”

you freeze, breath hitching with fear as you feel the slight shiver spread across your body. your gaze darts to the corner of the room, where your webcam sits innocently atop your monitor. you’ve always felt secure with the mask on—no one could ever see your face, not really. but now? the idea that someone might be looking through the lens, watching your every move, makes your skin crawl.

for a long moment, you don’t move. you don’t dare to. but the urge to check if it's him is eating you alive. slowly, your head turns, heart pounding as your eyes scan the obscured room behind you.

there's nothing.

the room is exactly how you left it—empty, quiet.

your shoulders sag in relief, though your nerves still remain frayed, buzzing with adrenaline. you stand from your desk, pacing, trying everything just anything to shake the unease that's wrecking your system. you glance at the clock: 1:49 a.m. it’s too late to still be awake, but you’re wired. there’s no way you’re getting any sleep tonight, not after those messages.

your phone buzzes again, and against your better judgment, you grab it.

unknown: “you’re so cute when you’re scared.”

your blood runs cold, a shiver racing down your spine. there’s no way they can actually be inside… right? you check the door, locked. the windows, closed. you even peek through the curtains, scanning the street below. everything is as it should be, yet the feeling of being watched is suffocating.

how do they know?

another message:

unknown: “why don’t you check the stream again?”

your heart nearly stops. you rush back to your desk, hands trembling as you click open your streaming software. the screen flickers showing your room through the webcam—but something’s off.

the feed is lagging, slow, as if struggling to keep up. then, for a split second, you see it—a shadow in the corner of the room. you blink, leaning closer, but it’s gone as quickly as it appeared.

panic sets in, your fingers hovering over the keyboard, unsure what to do. but before you can type anything, another message appears, this time in the stream chat. their username, the same one that’s been following you for a few days now: raskolnikov.

“i like your mask, but it’s time we get rid of it, don’t you think?”

your pulse races trying your best to shut the stream down, but your cursor freezes. the mouse won’t respond. every click is to no avail. the screen blurs for a moment before the video feed cuts to black.

what the hell is going on?

then, just as you're about to reach for your phone to call 911, your screen lights up again, showing a video file playing. it’s footage of you—a vivid footage from inside your apartment. to be more exact from your bedroom. you recognize the view, the angle—it’s from your own webcam showing you, sleeping, unaware of the camera watching your every move you make.

your stomach churns. this isn’t real, no... this can’t be real.

then you hear it. this time, a voice comes from right behind you. it filters through your ears, clear with a chilling calmness to it.

“did you miss me, myskha?”

your body locks up, thrill tightening your throat. god! you're so stupid, of course it's him, you should've known it's him, that smooth, taunting tone you’d recognise anywhere.

it’s fyodor dostoevsky.

a few months ago, things were simple. your streams were gaining traction, and the messages were nothing out of the ordinary. until him.

it started small—just a user in your chat, “@demonfyodor,” who seemed more attentive than others. you didn’t think much of it at first. his comments were polite, sometimes even helpful. but then, they became more specific. he knew details about your personal life, things you had never shared on stream—what books you were reading, the colour of the shirt you wore to work that day.

you ignored it at first, brushing it off as a coincidence. but the coincidences kept piling up. he knew too much.

and then, the gifts started arriving. packages with no return address. items you’d mentioned offhandedly during a stream—a game you were interested in, a book you had your eye on, even a necklace you admired. they all came, perfectly wrapped, as if sent by someone who was always listening, aways watching.

by then, the messages grew more intense, sliding into your dms with a casual ease that sent shivers down your spine. easy to say that he wanted more than just to watch. he craved interaction, intimacy, a connection that transcended beyond the screen. and the thrill of having someone so alluringly close was insanely intoxicating, especially when you wore your mask, the anonymity allowing you to explore sides of yourself you’d long kept hidden.

at first, it was thrilling to engage in these flirty exchanges with him. fyodor had a specific way of using words that wrapped around you like silk, enticing you into a world of pleasure you had almost forgotten. he’d ask if you liked the gifts he sent—those perfect little treasures that you've always secretly craved. new packages started arriving, each one with a rush of excitement, revealing items that teased at your wildest fantasies—handcuffs, whips, and other bdsm delights that you had secretly wanted to try but never had the courage to explore.

you’d spent so long alone, single for what felt like an eternity, that you never expected to be so drawn to these fantasies again.

you found yourself lost in hours of texting, often escalating to calls and even facetiming late at night. there was this specific magnetic pull between you, a connection that was both so thrilling yet unbelievably terrifying. and the unforgettable nights you shared became an addiction—worse than nicotine, you realised.

safe to say that fyodor was different. well, he was smart, intuitive, and oh, that half-lidded gaze of his, those captivating amethyst eyes that seemed to pierce through your soul, made it nearly impossible to resist. the way he smirked when he facetimed you, so confident and smooth, drew you in like a cat to catnip.

fyodor had a unique talent for making you cum over and over again without even being in the same room. his silk smooth voice filling your senses with his soft moans and luscious whispers. you could almost feel him there with you, as if he knew every secret spot that would send you twirling into ecstasy.

“just for me, darling,” he would murmur in the dead of night, calling you while you lay there, helplessly aroused, stroking his deliciously lengthy pale cock while whispering sweet nothings that seemed to tangible your desire. it was intoxicating.

and oh the thrill of being sprawled out in front of him through the lens, just for his viewing pleasure, became a nightly ritual. you’d slowly slide the lavender dildo he gifted between your slick-coated folds, moaning softly as you fucked yourself just for him, eagerly awaiting his reaction. every squirm, every gasp was a performance, and the way he admired your every inch of you, the way his gaze burned into you through the screen, made it all the more exhilarating. you loved how pretty he made you feel, how desired, and how alive.

and then came the darker undertones—the realisation that the line between thrill and danger was razor-thin, especially when your connection to him spiraled deeper into obsession.

you were obsessed—completely consumed by him, and you could swear he felt the same. fyodor was always there, filling the void with his words and voice. until one day… he just disappeared.

no warning, no goodbye. nothing, just… gone.

he deleted all of his accounts, his number, everything. every trace of him, wiped clean, deactivated as if he had never existed in the first place. you thought it was some kind of sick game at first. a punishment, maybe? but for what ? you didn’t know. all you knew was the desperate, gnawing need for answers.

you spent days—weeks, really—searching for any trace of him, some clue, something that would explain why he’d vanish so suddenly. but there was nothing. it was as if he had planned this all along, like a predator keeping his prey hooked, dangling just out of reach before vanishing into the void, leaving you stranded in the wake of your obsession.

you’d find yourself obsessively refreshing your streams, hoping his username would pop up in the chat as it used to, scouring your dms, wondering if maybe he was still watching you, lurking among the anonymous fans. you caught yourself imagining him behind every new follower, every message, wondering if he was there, pulling the strings once again.

three months of silence. three agonizing months of waiting, hoping, wondering. were you in love with him? or was it just a pure obsession? you couldn’t tell anymore. all you knew was that he had burrowed into your life, into your mind, so deeply that it felt like you were drowning without him.

your late-night streams had become hollow rituals, devoid of the thrill they once held. the gifts he’d sent were still there, tucked away, untouched since his disappearance. you couldn’t bring yourself to use them anymore, not without him. Not without his voice in your ear, telling you how perfect you were, how beautiful you looked writhing on camera just for him.

"you're shaking my dear are you okay"

his smooth, silky voice cuts through your spiraling thoughts. okay? you're anything but okay. is he even kidding right now? you almost had a heart attack, convinced someone was about to kill you.

your hands tremble, mind racing with dozens of thoughts, questions colliding together in your head. but against all logic, despite the overwhelming fear, you can’t help but feel the familiar rush of dopamine hit your brain receptors.

you missed him. and you know exactly what that means.

he’s right there, sitting on your bed—flesh and bone, not just pixels on a screen. it’s almost too much to process. you hate to admit it, but he’s even more handsome in person. those amethyst eyes are sharper, more intriguing, and his smirk… makes your stomach twist with longing.

then, his voice again hypnotic, like velvet draping over your hearing senses:

“i’m sorry, myshka. i didn’t mean to disappear like that... i had some things to take care of.” he pauses, eyes searching your face for any sign that might let him push further. but all he finds is panic, disbelief, and hurt.

“i—i don’t understand,” you stammer, desperately searching for a way to make sense of it all.

his hand reaches out, brushing your cheek lightly. the touch makes you flinch, but it’s not out of fear. it's the way your body responds—a pink hue spreading underneath your cheeks colouring them so adorably.

“you’re trembling, my dear” he whispers, thumb trailing down to your lips. “but not just from fear, is it? no… there's something else, isn’t there, darling?”

you should push him away. you should scream. but instead, you stay frozen, heart pounding in your chest as his thumb presses lightly against your lower lip, and you can see the striking plum violet and mauve lines in his amaranthine irises.

“you’re so beautiful without the mask,” he continues, leaning slightly forward. “i’ve missed this. missed you.”

oh shit! the mask—how did you forget it? the realisation hits you like a truck, leaving you feeling achingly exposed, like a delicate flower stripped of its petals. is this okay? will he hurt you?

his other hand moves to your waist, fingers curling around your side delicately, drawing you closer to him.

“i’ve been watching you, myshka,” he smiles, that damn smile that you've always wondered when you'll see again. “every night, waiting for the right moment to return.”

“did you think about me?” he asks, eyes narrowing playfully, as if he already knows the answer. you swallow hard, not sure if you should be honest with him or not.

“y-yes,” you finally admit, of course, you thought about him—every single day and night. his essence always lingered in your mind like an addiction, one you couldn’t quite shake off. every moment of your life was coloured by the hope of his return.

“tell me what you want, myshka,” his eyes roam over your nightgown, captivated by how your lavender bra hugs your breasts so perfectly from underneath. tracing the cascade of your hair down your shoulders, with a few wisps caught teasingly between the soft curves of your cleavage. “i can give you everything and more.”

oh lord—the way he says it makes your vision blurs with lust, you want to tell him, you want to confess all of your darkest desires, the fantasies you’ve spun in the solitude of your room. but words fail you. instead, your body leans instinctively toward him, humming in delight, craving the contact you’ve denied yourself for so long.

“the little toys i sent you are gathering dust, aren’t they? i think it’s time we put them to use.”

your breath catches in your throat. how did he know? you hesitate for a second before rushing to your closet, fingers trembling slightly as you open the drawer and pull out the baby blue handcuffs and the magenta vibrator he gifted you months ago his smirk widens as he watches you, an amsuing glint speading into his eyes.

“good choice,” he murmurs, stepping closer to take the items from your hands, smirking viciously as he holds the cuffs like a trophy. “let’s see how well you can follow my orders tonight.”

slowly, he begins to undress you, hands exploring every inch of your soft skin as if you're a forbidden fruit in eve's garden. he traces his fingers along your arms, down your hips, then to your neck down your spin and the cloudy pillows of your ass. each touch makes your skin pebble, radiating flames under his tender touches. you’re not just his toy, you’re his masterpiece.

once he’s stripped you down to nothing, he leads you to the bed and gently handcuffs your wrists to the headboard, securing you in place. you're quite aware that there's a thin line between excitement and anxiety but right now? all you can think about is what he is planning.

as he finishes, he swoops down, lips brushing yours so teasingly, before pressing his cold ones against yours in a gentle chaste kiss growing handsier by each second, causing you to let out a muffled hum of surprise.

he pulls back watching your heaving chest as you catch him holding your kitsune mask, a vicious smile curling on his lips. “you know I can’t have my favorite little fox completely unmasked,” he teases, lifting it toward your face, placing the mask over your features to obscure your identity as he holds a camera in his other hand aiming it at you, its lens capturing the erotic moment. “i want to remember every exquisite detail,” he grouses erotically—placing the camera on your night stand before slowly taking off his clothes.

your breath hitches as you take in his details through the mask. yes, you've seen him naked multiple times before, but it was always behind the camera lenses, never this close. his body is pale and perfectly structured, and oh god, his waist—how is he that beautiful?

your gaze drifts lower, eyes widening as they lock onto his hard cock, the tip glistening and teasingly brushing against your slick folds. it’s a sight that sends a jolt of desire pooling low in your stomach. you want him—need him—right now.

he spreads your folds with two digits, looking eagerly with darkened amethyst orbs as your delicious juices drool from your empty hole.

“oh... myshka, your pussy is so much softer than i imagined.” he purrs as he watches your glossy lips part slightly letting out muffled mewls, the mask frames your features, leaving your mouth exposed for him. he tilts his hips ever so slightly letting the tip of his cock glide against your buzzing clit.

“mnff...fedya,” here comes your needy whimpers that he adores.

he lowers himself, so that his mouth is just a few inches from your cunt, warm breath faning against your wet puffy folds making your cunt gush more and more of its sweet juices.

he begins with teasing licks, the hot muscle swirling around your sensitive clit in circular motion, each flick makes your back arch and hips instinctively buck up yearning for more. a muffled 'mmff' vibrates against your hot sex, as he tastes the sweet honey seeping from between your folds like you’re the sweetest nectar.

“mmff myshka, can you stop moving so much?” he murmurs against your heat core, the vibrations adding to the delicious torment. his fingers dive deeper, curling inside you as he continues to work your clit with his mouth, the combination making you moan loudly, while struggling against your restrained hands, you desperately try to break free, yearning to let your fingers tug on his luscious black silk hair.

“please… more,” you gasp, unable to contain the desperation in your voice as he responds with a low, pleased growl, redoubling his efforts to bring you close enough to your sweet release.

but just as you’re about to cum, he suddenly pulls away. a desperate whimper escapes your lips, the pleasure abruptly cut off as you watch him with wide eyes, feeling the emptiness where he was just a moment ago.

“not yet, myshka,” he chuckles, licking his lips to taste the ghost of you.

without warning, he rams inside you, filling you to the hilt in one swift motion. a sharp gasp leaves your mouth as he stretches you, the sudden intrusion makes your vision blurry, stars flashing behind your eyes making every nerve in your body tingle with pleasure. as you feel yourself close to your release again, your walls clenching around him instinctively.

“черт! тебе так хорошо.” (fuck! you feel so good.) he groans as he begins to thrust deep, each swing of his hips sending ripples of ecstasy radiating from your core. “this tight little pussy of yours..ngh..is going to become my new obsession..mff”

you mull over his words as they feed at all parts of your hollow heart, making you feel butterflies in your stomach mingling with the coil tightening in your lower abdomen.

lost in a haze of blissful moans and blurred vision, you barely notice fyodor's hand gliding over to the vibrator. the moment he presses it against your swollen clit, a scream escapes your lips, a sound of pure ecstasy that mingles with his deep, satisfied moan. the buzzing sensation resonates deep within you, sending shockwaves of pleasure throughout your entire body. as his heavy shaft with veins straining against the skin, finds new pleasure points inside you that he commits to memory eager for the next time you make love.

heat coils between you as his furrowed brows speak of pure, concentrated desire. each deep stroke reshapes your walls, molding them to the weight and curve of his delicious lengthy cock, making sure no one else could ever fill you up the way he does. when your eyes meet, it’s like gazing into a galaxy of forbidden stars—his eyes telling you of a dark beauty of pleasure that pulls you higher and higher and the sound of his balls slapping against your ass blends with your moans, each collision driving you closer to the intoxicating edge of bliss.

you’re absolutely lost in the art of it, the way his body claims yours, painting pleasure across every nerve until the world outside dissolves and all that remains is just the two of you.

his breath comes in ragged, desperate gasps, tension in his muscles like the pull of a bowstring, ready to spill inside you at any given moment. he swells, every stroke only adding more fuel to the release building between you. the world narrows to this moment, the brush of his sweaty skin against your heaving chest, the pulse of pleasure echoing through your body with the buzzy rhythm of the vibrator pressed on your clit drives you straight away to your own release.

it's like stars colliding in the vastness of a violet sky, you shatter together. his name spills from your lips in a cry, body arching as pleasure crashes over you, flooding your senses. his hands grip your hips, holding you steady as he drives deeper, groaning low in his chest. and then you feel the heat of his release blooms inside you, filling you in waves as your walls pulse around him, pulling him in even tighter.

your bodies tremble in the afterglow, the world spinning and slowing until only the soft hum of breath and the fading echoes of pleasure remain. you glance at his irresistible eyes, seeing the remnants of that celestial fire, a shared intimacy that lingers even as the stars dim and the night settles into quiet.

he reaches over with a steady hand, grabbing the camera set just beyond the edge of the bed, with a smirk curling his lips, he flicks it off, the soft click signaling the end of the recording before he leans closer, fingers brushing against your cheekbone as he slowly pulls the mask off your face and gently frees your aching wrists from the restraints.

“beautiful,” he murmurs with a thick russian accent, his breath mingles with yours for a heartbeat before he closes the gap, capturing your lips in another deep, passionate kiss, mouth moving erotically against yours with the same fervor that had driven him moments before, as if he’s still chasing the aftershocks of pleasure through the taste of your glossy now-swollen lips.

“moya lyubov, you're designed just for me.”

TAGS: @a-smol-bean @violetbutterflix @amanoava @falloutjuli @embersweapons @warriordemigosworld @cathias @v15aexe @vasarii @pe4rl-diver @sukidenks @dazaifavbandage @chuuminn @fyodorsprettynun @ace-0fspades69 @irasamu @trippyserval @alyszuha @bittysuguru @writingandmusing @corruptedwrathkitsune @thedamselzelda @fyodorssimp1 @vikkinakahara @laylabuurr

[fvaleraye]

limbus company is a wild game. you play as a nonbinary amnesiac who got their head cut off and responded by replacing it with a flaming wall clock, whose second job is to (ineffectually, at first) be the manager of a group of people on a bus and whose first job is to revive and heal them anytime anything happens, which is all the time. your party is comprised of a dour scientist who has a habit of speaking in poetry, a mysterious white haired genius implied to be in a constant mental discord call with different versions of herself across multiple universes, an autistic woman who named her shoes after a fictional horse and turns into an ancient and powerful vampire if they're ever taken off, a swordswoman who speaks a third of her mind in acronyms and loves to murder people "artistically", an autistic frenchman built like a fridge who refuses to be a person unless ordered to, a long haired rich pretty boy who accidentally pisses people off with his sheltered behavior half the time and pretends to be dumber than he is to purposefully annoy people the other half, a british thug whose entire plot could have been solved by just spitting it out and also turned into a wolf monster for a bit, a ginger who got bored of her office job and decided to get on a boat and hunt whales about it, a russian gambler whose mental health and self image are rapidly deteriorating while she is also getting progressively worse at hiding it, a young man who is really in over his head while also being very good at killing people who also is weirdly good at translating the earlier mentioned swordswoman's acronyms, a kiss-ass former military woman who would probably kill everyone else in the party if she thought she could get away with it, and a german former-soldier who got a mutant bug arm and intense ptsd and depression. there's also the all powerful guide who tells you where to go who is legally not allowed to be too helpful and is also perpetually sick of your shit, and the strange girl who drives the bus you all ride in without a license or a lick of training. also the bus looks like a train. add onto the fact that most of the characters and their backstories are references to classic literature, and you have what is possibly the world's MOST dysfunctional dnd party.

we love this fucking game.

[awesumsaus]

pretty when I cry

wc: 6k

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: what was meant to be a slow relaxing morning after a night out with joel turns into something much more.

a/n: so I’ve been trying to work out the rest of my tlou series but couldn’t get this idea out of my head. it’s entirely self-indulgent, absolute filth, literally inspired by porn (but with feelings). pls skip if you’re not comfortable with anything outlined in the warnings/tags, otherwise hope y’all enjoy :] (and if anyone has any interest in a part two lmk bc I may or may not have some ideas lolol)

warnings/tags: explicit 18+ (minors dni), no outbreak au, softdom!joel, smut with a hint of plot, established relationship, age gap, reader is described as small/little but also curvy, hints of possessive!joel, daddy kink, almost dd/lg dynamics, subspace, oral (f receiving), slight somnophilia (very consensual), size kink, dirty talk, so many petnames (baby, honey, pretty girl, little girl), painful sex but Joel is a consent king, aftercare, fingering, *cough* butt stuff *cough*, unprotected pinv, squirting, barely proofread sorry

It wasn’t uncommon, for you to wake up like this, Joel’s head of salt and pepper curls dipped below the covers, his mouth eagerly pulling an orgasm from your pliant body. So it comes as no surprise when you’re roused awake by the sound of your own whines and whimpers, slipping through your lips like soft little pleas. Your tired eyes shift to the top of his head, the sheets bunched at his wide shoulders, leaving you bare and exposed to the cool morning breeze blowing through the open bedroom window. 

He works in slow languid movements, yet he has you gushing around his tongue nonetheless, his mouth warm and wet against your dripping sex, still soft and swollen from the previous night’s activities. You’d fallen asleep, damp and sticky, only after he’d pounded you into his mattress until the early hours of the morning. 

Upon waking, the feeling of his cum still dripping out of you, legs wrapped around one of his dense thighs, it drove him positively insane. It didn’t matter how peacefully asleep you were, how steadily you drew breaths between your plush lips, he had to have you the moment his eyes set on you.  

He senses you’re awake when your fingers delicately twist through the curls at the crown of his head. He hums contentedly against you, the vibrations making your eyes fall closed once more as wanting sounds slip past your lips. You’d never been one for religion, but seeing Joel for the past several months has you questioning everything. The way his mouth moves against your pulsing core leaves you with no choice but to believe in some higher power, some celestial being that deemed you lucky enough to allow a man like Joel into your life.

He pulls away from your messy cunt and you whine at the loss. Your glossed over eyes meeting his with pupils blown wide. “Mornin’ pretty girl,” he says, his voice gruff and his lips shining with your slick. The sight sends another wave of warmth straight to your core. 

“Hi,” you say, tone gentle and weary with sleep. A timid smile spreads across your lips as you run a hand through his scruff. No matter how many times you wake up next to him, how many times he fucks you senseless, you always manage to grow shy under his salacious stare. 

He plants a fleeting kiss to your clit and you shudder, you can feel him smirk even as your gaze shifts to the ceiling above you. Your hand unknowingly grips his hair tighter and urges him towards where you need him most, not even noticing your own action until you hear Joel let out an amused chuckle. 

“So needy for me, huh baby?” He runs a hand from your thigh over the curve of your hip, his touch featherlight over the certain spot by your hipbone that he knows drives you wild. His fingers end splayed across your lower belly, his thumb rubbing small circles into your skin. 

“Always need you, daddy,” you say, only slightly above a whisper, a small buck of your hips to get your point across. The petname has his already half hard cock twitching against the sheets, his other hand instinctively squeezes the flesh of your hip. 

With no warning, his lips are on you again, his pace now fast and increasingly sloppy. He eats at you like a man starved, his curved nose rubbing against your clit with each of his movements. The intensity of it all makes your head spin and your cunt clench around nothing. A ghosting pain lingers in your lower half, another reminder of the evening prior. 

The two of you had gone out, like you often did on Friday nights, deciding on a new spot downtown. Joel was hesitant at first, having heard it was more popular with the younger crowd, more catered to people your age. But he’d learned early in your relationship that saying no to you was nearly impossible, with your big doe eyes and sweet pleading smiles, he rarely had it in him to deny anything your little heart desired. 

But God, the little black dress you wore nearly had him throwing you over his shoulder and locking you away in his bedroom for only his eyes to ever behold. Joel would never admit to being the possessive type. He knew what other men saw in you, wide eyed and sweet, kind beyond reason, with a gorgeous smile and beautiful curves. He saw the way they’d look at you, saw the way their eyes followed your perfect form, like predators stalking their prey.

He would never admit to being the possessive type, but his incessant grip around your waist in every public space and the death glares he’d send any man that looked your way proved otherwise. And despite your attempts to dissuade his arrogance, there was a part of you that craved to be claimed, to be marked as his. 

The week had been long and draining. Your overbearing boss forced you to work overtime into the late hours of the evening nearly every night, and with Joel’s days often starting as early as 5am, he was usually sound asleep by the time you’d managed to feed yourself and drag your exhausted corpse to bed. 

To no fault of his own, Joel hadn’t paid much attention to you this week, leaving you feeling neglected and irritated despite his generally relentless attentiveness towards you. And so you decided to toy with him, always testing his limits and seeing how far you can go before he snaps. You wouldn’t admit it, but you kinda liked him a little angry. 

And boy was it easy to get a rise out of him, especially dressed the way you were, your ass only just covered and your tits spilling over the tight corset-like top of your dress. You had his blood boiling before the two of you even left his house. When you finally walked through the bar entrance, Joel was like a guard dog, his arm wrapped tightly around your lower waist, a permanent scowl imprinted on his face towards the many male bar goers that ogled you. He had you tucked so close to his body you were nearly tripping over his feet with each of your steps. 

After your first drink you were feeling antsy, and a bit too bold for you own good, and so you flirted with them, boys you had not a single shred of interest in, laughed at their jokes and accepted their offers to buy you drinks, all the while glancing back at Joel, biting your lip, trying not to giggle at his grimace and the way redness began spreading up his neck. You’d retreat back to your table, to Joel, prizes in hand, and feign innocence when he’d question what you were up to. 

“What do y’ think you’re doin’,” he questioned after you had slipped away to the bar a second time under the guise of needing to use the restroom. You padded up to him, slotting yourself between his thighs, twirling the straw in your drink between your fingers. Even sitting on the barstool he towered over you. 

“Nothin’, daddy.” You looked up at him through your lashes, knowing fully well what your words did to him. You brought the hand that wasn’t holding your drink to his upper thigh, you could feel the muscle tense as you slid your way up, up, up. 

“Watch it, little girl.“ He grabbed your wrist, hard. You instinctively tried to pull away, but his grip was firm. He jerked you towards him, your chests nearly touching before bringing your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles softly, a stark contrast to the death grip he still had on your wrist. 

His voice was low, a sign of warning. “F’ you want somethin’ from me, all you gotta do is ask, darlin’.” 

You huffed and pouted slightly when he released you, ignoring the fact that your actions resembled those of a petulant child. Despite knowing that he would give you anything you asked of him, having proved it to you countless times over the course of your relationship, the neglected feeling in your chest grew. You didn’t want to ask, sick of making decisions and telling others what to do after the week you’d had. You wanted him to take. 

It was after your third disappearance, this time to actually use the restroom, that Joel snapped. Passing by the bar, one of the young men that bought you a drink attempted to stop you in your tracks. You didn’t pay him much attention, just smiled and nodded at his words, quietly trying to slip by. But then his hands were on you, grabbing your waist in a way that made your stomach turn. You hadn’t even had time to register a response, to push him away and run back to Joel, before his hands were leaving your body and being replaced by much larger ones, rough and calloused. Joel’s hands. 

“We’re leaving, now,” he grunted, pulling you by the back of your arm towards the exit. It was only after he’d practically thrown you into the passenger’s seat of his truck that you knew you were in for it. 

You’d barely made it to the front door before he was ripping the fabric of your little black dress from your body, letting the torn pieces fall to the floor. Immediately you’d attempted to scold him, it was one of your favorites, but couldn’t get a word in before he was throwing your bare body over his shoulder and carrying you to his bedroom, promising he’d buy you as many dresses as you wanted if you’d shut up and let him have his way with you, let him fuck you stupid, until the only thoughts going through your head were Joel, Joel, Joel.

He spent the following hours relentlessly pulling orgasm after orgasm from your pliable body, impaling you on his thick cock until hot tears streamed down your cheeks. 

“I know, baby,” he said from his place behind you, your limp whimpering form draped across the edge of the bed. “Just needed to be reminded who you belong to, huh?” His voice was mocking, but with a certain sincerity that made your cunt clench even harder around him. 

“Yours, daddy,” was all you could manage before you came around his cock for what felt like the hundredth time that night. 

Needless to say you were feeling extra sensitive this morning, Joel was hyper aware of this fact, yet the feeling of his tongue repeatedly diving into your abused hole had you begging for more. “Need you inside,” you say despite the hurt. Joel holds back a groan at your pleas, needy little thing. He pulls away just slightly to meet your gaze, his breath still hot against your core. 

“Not gonna put my cock in you, honey.” The finality in his voice makes your heart drop and tears prick in the corners of your eyes. You were always like this in the mornings, he had come to notice, sensitive, soft, often emotionally even more so than physically. Joel had always been an assured man, never impulsive or reckless in his actions, always thoughtful and never selfish. But with you he’d learned patience. He’d learned to hold your emotions in the palm of his hand with a certain gentleness he never knew himself capable of. He’d learned you often needed more time than most to become placid, to settle, and so it became almost a sense of his, knowing when to take and when to give, even when you weren’t sure yourself.  

“Please-“ you whine, tears in your voice. His big brown eyes soften when they meet yours, his resolve slipping only momentarily while he moves to kiss the inside of each of your thighs. 

“Not gonna convince me, baby.” he tuts. “Can’t take me yet.” He moves higher, nuzzles into the soft skin above your clit. You let out a small gasp when he starts sucking harshly, surely leaving a bruise, a mark that only he will ever see. 

“I can. I promise.” You wriggle in his hold, feel your wetness drip onto the sheets. He nips the spot and pulls away. 

“Quit.” He pins your hips harder, his eyes meeting yours once more. “Maybe if you hadn’t been such a goddamn tease last night I wouldn’t’ve had to wreck this perfect little pussy.” He runs a finger through your folds as he says it and you tense slightly. He raises an eyebrow at you, an I told you so look, you huff in frustration, yet you relax in his hold. 

“You ready to be good f’ me, baby?” His voice seeps through your ears like honey, your mind beginning to wander to that all too familiar headspace you often turned to in these moments. You nod your head, eyes hooded. Joel senses the shift. “You’re gonna take whatever daddy gives you yeah?”

“Yes,” you gasp as you feel just the tip of his index finger probe your dripping hole, Joel gauging your response. 

“N’ then what d’ you say?” He twists his finger inside you and pushes in just to his first knuckle, the stretch already intense given your increased sensitivity. 

“Thank you, daddy,” you sigh, not a single shred of fight left in you. A devilish smirk spreads across his face. 

“Good girl.”

His hands are on the backs of both your thighs, hiking your legs up so that they’re pressed firmly against your chest, your glistening folds on full display. You shiver as the cool morning air hits where you’re most vulnerable. He then pushes your knees apart, situating himself so that his mouth is only inches from your core while still holding you in place, your legs spread obscenely wide to accommodate the breadth of his shoulders. 

He spits directly on your clit and watches as it drips down your cunt, combining with the mess of wet already there. It’s entirely unnecessary, but it’s how Joel likes you, filthy with his cum and spit and your own slick. You tremble as he smooths his hand over your mound, his undivided attention on the mess he’s creating. When he’s satisfied, the pad of his thumb finds your clit, rubbing small circles into the bundle of nerves, making your hips buck once more.

He pauses his movements, his eyes dark and entirely void of any sense of leniency. “Not gonna tell you again.” A tear pools in your lower lashes at the loss of his touch, your breathing goes shaky. 

“So pretty when you cry f’ me, honey,” his tone mocking. “Almost as pretty as when you come for me.”

His mouth is back on you, even more ravening and unrelenting than before. You have to bite down on your pillow to prevent yourself from screaming when his lips wrap around your clit, sucking the sensitive bud into his warm mouth. Every cell in your body is screaming for his touch, needing more, more, more. You want to be enveloped by him by not just his mouth, but every part of him. You have the sudden desire to crawl under his skin, make a home for yourself there, where all you can ever feel is him, him, him. 

The peaceful sound of birds chirping outside the window is drowned out by your cries and the pornographic squelches of your wet sex. Your vision blurs as his tongue plunges in and out of you. 

“Taste so fucking good, baby,” he pulls away for only a second, his eyes not leaving your center as he anchors his thick arms under your ass and thighs, bringing your cunt impossibly closer to his eager mouth.  

Joel knows your body, knows what every twitch and minor shift means, how your breathing quickens when he’s brought you right to the edge, the sounds you make when you’ve completely given in, forfeited all control. And he senses it, when his thumb presses against the cleft of your ass, and a moan slips from deep within your throat, that he’s uncovered something, something that makes his cock twitch and drip onto the sheets below him. 

He pulls away quick, too quick, and your face burns, the fleeting sensation prompting a new surge of desire in the pit of your stomach. The feeling was foreign, a bit startling, but in a way that left you longing for more. If you were to trust anyone to delve into this part of yourself, this uncharted territory, it would be Joel. It would always be Joel. He knew how to take care of you better than any man you’d ever known. With him you were safe, you were heard, cherished and adored. With him there was no emotion too big or too small, no desire left unsated. 

“Joel-“ you breath. “Joel, baby. I want-“

He pulls away from you, a knowing look in his glassed over eyes. “What is it, honey? What d’ you want?”

He can’t help himself and licks a long strip from your asshole to your clit, moaning at the taste. “Fuck- Joel,” you cry out, a drop of sweat falling to your forehead. “Want- want your fingers.”

“Where d’ you want my fingers, baby.” He says it more like a command than a question, but you can’t respond, your head falling back as he starts lapping at your clit. “You want them in this sweet little cunt?” He prods one of his thick fingers at your opening, but quickly pulls away, leaving you clenching around nothing. 

You bite your lip, eyes hooded. “Mm,” you shake your head. His eyes are nearly black now, something unhinged, sinful behind his gaze. He knows what you want, the seed already planted in his insatiable brain, but he wasn’t going to give in to your pleads that easily. 

“Dirty girl.” His voice has dropped an octave. “Tell me what you want.”

“Please, daddy” you squirm, tears pooling at your waterline, threatening to fall at any second. His hardened grip on your hips softens for a moment before he’s turning his head and biting the inside of your thigh, hard. You gasp, a tear rolls down your cheek. “Use your words.”

“I wan- I-I don’t-,” you babble, the tears now flowing freely, leaving wet trails down your cheeks. He lets you choke on your words for a moment, not once tearing his eyes away from yours. 

“Oh honey, I know s’ hard,” he soothes, sliding his hand along the curve of your ass. Your tears slow. “S’okay. Daddy’s gonna give you what you need. No more cryin’.”

You sniffle, a small smile spreading across your face at his words. You always had a way of making him cave.

His expression goes serious for a moment. “What’s your safe word?” Red. “And you’ll use it if you want me to stop?” Mhm. “Repeat it.” His commanding tone sends a chill down your spine. “If I want you to stop, I’ll say red,” you say softly and run a hand through his curls, wet with a mixture of your sweat and his own. 

“Fuck, baby. Gonna make you feel so good,” he says more to himself than you. Your brain turns to absolute mush when his mouth meets your skin once again. 

Even with his head between your legs, even when he’s on his knees for you, he’s the one in charge, the one that dictates your every move. How your body twists and bends to his will. He decides when you get to cum, decides when you’ve earned it. And there’s a certain feeling that comes with it, this loss of autonomy, a sense of ease and security created by a total loss of control. No other man you’ve been with has understood, most of them only seeking to fulfill their own selfish wants. But Joel knows, having understood this unfamiliar part of you almost as soon as the two of you met, knowing exactly how to satiate that little corner of your brain that craves submission. 

You suck in a sharp breath when you feel his calloused thumb return to your tight hole, tensing a bit when he adds more pressure. 

“Relax, baby.” And you do, your muscles go lax almost immediately and the furrow in your brow softens. You exhale a moan as he begins kissing your cunt, avoiding your most sensitive areas so that he can keep you focused on the feeling of his thumb pushing into you. 

“Fu- fuck, Joel!” You basically shriek when the tip of his thumb breeches the ring of muscle, it’s already all consuming, already so full.

He retracts his thumb and you let out a choked sound before he brings his thick finger to your wetness, gathering slick on the pad of his thumb before resuming his unrushed stretching of your virgin hole. 

“More ngh- please.” He prods you painfully slow, assessing your every reaction as his knuckle plunges into you. 

“Uh-uh. Don’t care how nice n’ polite you ask, baby. Not gonna ruin this little hole.” He plants wet kisses along your seam. “Not yet,” he says almost inaudibly against your mound before devouring you once more. The promise of more makes something in your brain snap, all the shyness and trepidations from before gone in one fleeting moment. 

He stretches you slowly, the speed of his mouth quickening and his thumb beginning to slide more easily in and out of you. You’re entirely lost in the feeling, completely overwhelmed by the pressure and the speed of his tongue on your clit. You cry out when he removes his thumb, replacing it with his middle finger, and dipping his freed digit into your cunt, completely overcome, overstimulated in the best way. 

It’s too much, but not enough. But no, it’s too much. He’s everywhere, in your cunt, your ass, your head. All you can think is how anything in life could ever feel this good. How anyone can be this good, this knowing of your every want, every need. The thought makes tears pinch at the corner of your eyes. 

His gaze is fixed on you, every twitch, every shift. He nearly comes at the sight of you grinding down on his fingers. That’s it baby, fuck yourself on my fingers. His movements slow, your orgasm begins to fade and you whine. You’re not even thinking when you bring your delicate fingers to your clit and trace small circles against the bundle of nerves. Joel immediately grabs your hand and pins it to your lower stomach, nearly growling against your skin. Any other time he’d have you bent over his knee for not asking permission, but he’s so drunk on you, so dead-set on making you come apart, he lets this one slide. 

“Need t’ come so bad, huh baby?” You nod your head furiously, a few more tears slipping down your cheeks. “Go ‘head n’ ask for it then, baby. Nice n’ polite like I know you can.”

“Please daddy, please let me come.” You barely register the words falling from your mouth, but the proud look on Joel’s face tells you all you need to know.

It doesn’t take much to send you over the edge. He sucks harshly on your clit, pulling it into his mouth, while his thick fingers work each of your holes. His hand holding yours presses harder, harder, harder until the tension snaps and you’re screaming, sobbing out as you gush around him, soaking his scruff to the point that your slick drips from his chin and onto the already drenched sheets. He works you through it, curling his fingers into your cunt so that another warm stream of slick hits his tongue. And he takes, not letting a single drop go to waste as he laps at you. 

Your head is still buzzing when he finally ceases his movements, the shockwaves of your orgasm still flowing through you making your whole body shake. Your muscles convulse as he slowly pulls his fingers from your core. 

With blurred vision you watch him stand at the end of the bed, his cock painfully hard, red and leaking. You hadn’t even considered what all this was doing to him, so lost in your own pleasure from the moment your eyes opened. You have the sudden urge to fall to your knees and take him into your mouth until he comes deep down your throat, but your body is limp, sunk into the mattress below you. You merely watch with hooded eyes as he fists himself, his gaze fixed on your slicked core, the sight makes another pool of your arousal drip onto the sheets.

“Fuck-“ he sucks in a sharp breath, his hips stuttering against his own hold. “Need t’ be inside this tight cunt, baby.”

Your eyes go slightly wide at his confession, yet your lower half shakes with anticipation. You’re not sure you’ve ever seen him like this, this wrecked, desperate, this needy. He looks almost pained when your eyes meet his, and you feel as though you may just implode if he’s not inside you a moment longer. 

“Will you let me, pretty girl?”

You nod. 

“Yes or no, baby?” He squeezes the base of his shaft, staving off his impending release. You can’t help but smile a little, knowing he could come just like this, just from looking at you in your current state. But the need to feel him inside of you pulls you from the thought. 

Yes, please, yes.

He grabs your hips and swiftly flips you, shoving a pillow under your lower belly and pushing down on you until you’re laid almost flat on your stomach. He grabs roughly at your hips, pulling you up so that his cock brushes up against your slick folds. 

You bite down on your forearm when his wide tip notches at your entrance, basically drooling onto your own skin as you attempt to hold back your cries. He eases into you, still overly conscious of your sensitivity, ignoring the small part of his brain telling him to ram into you, make you feel every inch of him in one swift motion. He knows that you would take it, thank him for it, always such a good girl for him especially once he’s finally inside you, yet he knows the kind of control he has over you in these moments, knows it’s up to him to determine what you can and can’t take. 

When he bottoms out you feel as though you may just split in two, something animalistic sounds from deep within Joel’s throat. Tears fall to your arm when your head lolls to the side, your breathing ragged and your whole body on fire from both pain and pleasure.

“Fuck- not gonna last, baby.” He starts moving in and out of you slowly, and god, it hurts, yet your tight cunt sucks him back in with each of his thrusts, a delicious burning sensation spreading along your slick walls. You open your mouth to respond, to tell him not to worry himself, to beg him to come inside your aching cunt. But all that escapes your lips is a choked sob in the sound of Joel’s name. 

“Shh I know,” he coos. “You’re just so little, huh sweet thing? Little fucking cunt squeezing me so good honey.”

You keen at his praise, gushing around his massive girth. You’d never get used to it, the thickness of his cock, the weight of him deep inside your cunt. No matter how much he prepares you, it’s always a stretch, always just short of too much to bare. 

His thumb presses into the cleft of your ass as his pace increases. “Gonna let me fuck you here, baby?”

“Yes daddy,” you say and he freezes for a moment, your words nearly sending him over the edge. 

“Not today, little girl,” he growls and rocks back into you. A feeling of combined relief and disappointment washes over you. You’re not sure you could take it, not now, but part of you craves to be reduced to nothing but Joel’s fuck toy, fucked deep and full until you can’t even think, nothing but a few holes to be filled. 

“You’d let me though, wouldn’t ya?” He pulls you from your thought. “Dirty fuckin’ thing.”

“Mhm, yes daddy.” Your vision goes black at the feeling of his cock pulsing against your cervix. He was close, you could feel it in the way his thrusts went erratic, sloppy and slightly hurried. 

“Let me do whatever I want to ya, huh?”

“Yes daddy,” you say the only two words left in your brain. 

“Fuck, so fucking perfect, baby-“ The feeling of his warm release shooting inside of you makes you twitch around him and your brain go fuzzy. You can barely hear Joel’s grunts and moans nor his incessant praises over the ringing in your ears. This is what you craved, beyond the physical gratification brought on by these moments, but the way the world around you disappeared and you were filled with nothing but the content of being his, being Joel’s. The safety you felt beneath his large form, it leaves no room for worry, no thoughts of the stress of everyday life, no decisions to be made. Just him, just Joel. 

You’re not sure how long the two of you stay like this, long enough to feel your combined release dripping from Joel’s cock onto your trembling thighs, long enough that you feel yourself dipping in and out of sleep, in and out of consciousness. 

When he finally pulls out of you, he lets your hips softly fall onto the bed, your body sprawled across the damp sheets. You feel the mattress shift behind you as he stands, immediately heading for the en suite bathroom. At the loss of his presence, you’re reminded of the open window, the now midmorning breeze dancing across your damp skin. You can’t help but wonder if the echoes of your morning endeavors made their way to the street below, if a neighbor passing by could make out the sounds of your shrieks and screams, if perhaps it’d been a cause for concern until it became apparent that your cries were derived from a place of pleasure and not pain nor fear. 

Joel returns and takes quick notice of your shivering, immediately making his way to the window and shutting it. You smile to yourself at the sight of his bare backside, so strong and sturdy, the muscles in his shoulders sculpted from years of working on various job sites, tapering down to his waist, the dimples right above his ass. It’s truly a view you would never tire of. 

“‘S impolite to stare, y’ know?” He catches your eye, a playful smirk spread across his face. You giggle at him, still laying on your belly, your head tucked into the crook of your elbow. He chuckles when you make grabby hands at him with your free hand, to which he quickly concedes, bending over at your side and planting a kiss on your lips. You sigh against him, carding your fingers through his hair and pulling him closer. 

“Hey baby.” He breaks the kiss, his breath hot against your nose. He tucks fallen pieces of hair behind your ear. “You okay?” 

You nod your head tiredly, unable to muster any more of a response, and he doesn’t attempt to pull one out of you, kissing your nose and rising back to his feet. 

He disappears once again, this time returning dressed in a pair of black sweatpants and a damp washcloth in hand. He sits next to you on the bed, moving to clean between your legs, but your thighs clamp shut. It’s a purely physical reaction, your body on high alert due to the sensitivity. 

“Hey hey-“ he runs a soothing hand up and down your spine then leans over to press a kiss to your shoulder. “Just want t’ clean you up sweet girl. I’ll be so gentle, promise.” His soothing makes your legs instinctively relax and he brings the washcloth to the apex of your thighs. He’s gentle just like he promised, yet you still hiss slightly when the warm material meets your sensitive skin. 

When he’s finished, he grabs one of his t-shirts and a pair of shorts from the dresser, quickly returning to your side and urging you to turn onto your back. He dresses you, your body like putty in his hands, his touch gentle and warm. You can’t deny the aching feeling in your lower half when he slides your shorts on, but it’s a good kind of ache, an ache you’ll crave as soon as it dissipates. 

You grab at him again when he moves to pull away, but he makes it easy for you, leaning down and pressing his lips to yours, careful not to bare any of his weight on you. The little whimpers that slip past your lips as your warm mouth moves across his make his spent cock twitch.

It scared him sometimes, the intensity with which he felt for you, the depth of his affections. It scared him, the thoughts he had, of what he would do to those who meant to hurt you, to those who have hurt you. It scared him, the thought of losing you, the lengths he would go to keep you safe, keep you here, here with him. But it was in these moments, when you’re laid beneath him, so soft and so lovely, that all those fears melted away. 

Before things move any further, he hooks his arms under you and lifts you from the bed with ease. You don’t protest, not sure you could even if you wanted to, instead you latch onto him, curl your face into his neck and wrap your legs around his waist as he carries you downstairs to the living room. 

He attempts to set you on the couch, but you cling to him like a koala, arms wrapped tightly around his neck. “Let go,” he says firmly, a smile behind his words. “Don’t wanna,” you mumble against his skin, whining as he unfurls you from his torso and plops you on the couch. He places the TV remote in your hand, telling you to put somethin’ on, whatever you want.

He disappears into the kitchen and you attempt to sit up on the couch, your body going slack against the cushions. Your brain is still buzzing, it’s almost like you’re floating, not yet fully aware of your surroundings, but you can slowly feel yourself coming back to reality. You turn the TV on and set it to your latest recording. 

Joel returns a few minutes later, your favorite water bottle and a plate of peanut butter toast in hand, a bottle of Advil in the other. He sits on the couch, immediately urging you onto his lap, and you don’t object. 

“The Bachelor?” He says, a hint of judgement in his voice as he unscrews the cap of the Advil. 

“You love it,” you respond, beginning to lose focus on the show as you squirm and slither against his body, making yourself comfortable as if he were part of the couch. Joel softly chuckles, wrapping an arm loosely around you.

He holds a few of the pills in front of you. “Joel I’m fine. I don’t-“

“Not asking, sweetheart.” You roll your eyes, but take the Advil from him nonetheless, swallowing them down when Joel holds the straw of your water bottle to your mouth, knowing your body would thank you for it later. 

“Good girl,” he plants a quick kiss to your temple, before grabbing the toast from the coffee table, heat rises to your cheeks at his words.

He feeds you the toast, taking bites for himself while you chew. You hadn’t realized how depleted your body was, now feeling the haze lift with some food and water in your system. Every time it’s like coming back to earth, but fortunately you know that Joel will always be there to catch you. 

y'all I’m not good at endings pls forgive me

but hope we enjoyed the rest :p

part two