#this was on my brain too much to pass up though

[xoxxbilliexoxx]

Use Me, I’m Yours

———————————————

Billie comes home angry and you’re her favorite stress relief. You spread your legs, ready to take her strap, but she has other plans

Established Relationship, Strap-on (B receiving), Dom!Billie x Sub!Reader, intense orgasm & squirting

Y/N POV

The soft sound of Billie’s car tires splashing against the wet pavement pulls me out of my thoughts as I lay stomach down across my bed. She’s been gone all day dealing with meetings about tour and other boring things that the outside world forgets she must manage.

She was dreading it this morning, hiding under the covers and pulling me close to her, fake crying about how badly she just wanted to stay next to me all day. I finally made her get up and while she begrudgingly got ready I made us both a protein smoothie and a piece of toast with almond butter- a breakfast we have been fixated on for the last 3 weeks.

I hear the front door open and close and my heart flutters at the excitement of my girlfriend returning home to me. I want Billie to end each of her days next to me, holding her in bed until we’re old and grey, enjoying the warmth of her wrinkly fingers interlaced with mine. My head stays resting in my hand as I anxiously wait for her to greet me, listening out for each of her steps to grow louder and louder as she gets closer.

Something feels different though, sounds different. The way her feet hit the wood floors is filled with emotion. It’s fast and it’s heavy. I lay still and wait, trying not to assume anything.

My door swings open and Billie’s energy fills the room. It’s hard to read, hard to grasp what it is she’s feeling. A small stuffed duffle bag is thrown onto the floor with a harsh echoed landing and within seconds Billie’s hands grab my ankles, pulling me towards the edge of the bed with a low grunt and a loud yelp from my own mouth.

Before I can speak I'm flipped around and pulled into a heated kiss. Billie’s soft lips guide every motion, every push and pull, every hungry drag of her skin against mine.

Moments pass before I pull away with a gasp, dazed and overwhelmed by the sudden passion.

“Well hello to you too, lovey” I say as I gain control of my mind once again.

“mmmmm hi baby, missed you so much” her words purr out of her, their tone rich with need and desire.

“How was your day? How were your meetings?” I question with a smile and intense eye contact that secretly makes my core throb.

She's still in the same position as she was when she kissed me, standing above me next to the edge of the bed, legs on either side of mine as I sit below her. She’s hovering over me and looking down with an intensity that fills my brain with blind anticipation, not knowing at all what might be coming but eager nonetheless.

“horrible, I hated every moment of them. everything is all fucked up and I felt like I was going to explode all day. I got it all figured out but i’m still just as fucking frustrated.”

I feel frozen for a moment, not used to seeing Billie angry, not sure how to engage. Before I can respond, she speaks again.

“I’m fucking pent up. Need you. Need you now”

Her hand wraps around my neck as she talks, biting her bottom lip as soon as she’s done. As her fingers squeeze just slightly I try to speak, my voice only partially able to come out. I feel pathetic, my words sound like a desperate moan.

“Do what you want, i’m yours baby”

“yeah?” she cocks her head as she questions me, a dirty smirk painted across her face, not at all trying to hide how much she wants me.

I fight against her hand as I nod my head and swallow, barely able to do either as she tightens her grip on my neck for just a moment before she pulls away. She grabs my waist with an intensity that makes my blood surge before she throws me onto the bed with a quiet aggression and walks away.

I prop myself up on my elbows and watch as she shuffles around in the inside of her bag. Billie has tons of clothes and toiletries here at my place, just as I do at her place, I’m not used to seeing her bring a bag over anymore and for just a moment my mind is brought back to the beginning of this whole adventure, when things were still so new and nervous excitement constantly raged through my body.

That same nervous excitement tingles against my skin as Billie turns around with the strap-on in her hands. Her eyes glow with desire as she moves towards me with a seemingly intentional slowness, as if she’s teasing. But it doesn’t feel directed at me, it looks as if she’s playing a game with herself, letting her desire build till she can’t control it any longer.

I lay still, letting my brain soak in the image of her now topless figure, hands filled with the promise of pleasure, hips swaying back and forth as she floats towards me. When the bed tips and her hands find my skin I lose my breath for just a moment.

The energy dripping off of her is still that of anger, of frustration that lingers even as she kisses my neck. It’s the anger that leads each of her motions, yet still she meets me with a tender touch, tender yet intentional, tender yet charged.

When her hands find the waistband of my sweatpants she yanks them hard enough to pull my thong down with it, happy to see what she has done. My wetness hits my inner thighs, a clear sign of the way her aggressive hunger turns me on.

My shirt comes off next, pulled up slowly as her hands glide past my newly exposed skin. They move slow enough to feel each goosebump they cause. It all feels like an orchestrated game, like she’s building her own hunger till she’s starving.

The anticipation of the feeling of her strap filling me up is overwhelming, my need bubbling up quickly. I’m pained with a heavy throb from the lack of touch where I need her most, squirming at the thought of her taking her anger out on me.

My mouth pools with saliva as I watch her slide off the rest of her own clothes, my eyes move slowly to take her in. She’s perfect, her body is meant to be a marble statue in a museum, permanently capturing her goddess-like figure.

When her hands reach for the strap-on my heart beats just a bit faster, my slick dripping from my core just a bit more. I’m eager to watch her fit it to her round hips, a sight that always takes the air from my lungs.

I get snapped out of my dazed observations when she slides it up my own legs, tightening the straps snuggly against my waist. Her actions are confident, like she’s following a planned attack.

“Need you so bad, need to use you baby, that okay?” Her question is rhetorical, it’s clear as she nods with her words. I swallow as I nod in response, all words and thoughts gone from my mind- all that’s left is an urgent need to watch Billie use me in a new way.

My hands move underneath my head, back flat on the bed, as I lay naked under Billie. Her legs are straddling me as she guides my plastic dick between her folds, coating it in her arousal before sinking down, letting its thickness fill her entirely. Her head is thrown back and a powerful groan echoes against the 4 walls of my bedroom.

She moans out quiet expletives like a whisper, like she’s only speaking to herself. It’s as if she’s forgotten I'm here, completely and totally focused on her own pleasure, her own desires. It’s something I never knew I needed, the way she’s entirely using me to get herself off.

Her jaw is clenched tight as she begins gliding up and down on my faux cock, closed mouth whines filling the air as she takes in the feeling.

I think about the fact that she planned this, brought these toys here with the intention of fucking herself on me, needing it so badly she went the opposite direction to stop at her house and gather her x rated supplies. It makes this all the more hot knowing it was premeditated, knowing she wanted it this much, thought about it this much.

“oh god, fuck yes baby, needed this so bad, needed to fuck myself on you so bad, feels so good for me, you feel so good for me mama”

Her eyes stay closed as she speaks, her voice is sent straight to the ceiling as her head faces up. Yet still the filthy words fill my ears and send shivers down my spine all the way to my toes. They mix with my blood and throb against my clit, making it feel all the more powerful each time she bottoms out and the base rubs my swollen bud perfectly.

I groan at the sight above me, her curves on full display, fingers toying with her own nipples as her perfect tits bounce with each motion. Her eyes are slammed shut and her bottom lip is trapped between her teeth, biting so hard a small drop of blood spills out, an intense contrast against the bright white of her teeth.

“you’re mine, you know that? all fucking mine” It comes out as a growl and again it seems as those she’s saying these words for herself, her own ears and her own pleasure. Her intense ownership and dominance is getting her off even faster.

Billie’s bouncing speeds up, moving her hips up and down faster and faster as her erotic cries grow louder, more whiny, more uncontrolled. Her hands leave her own boobs to grab mine before leaning down against me, forearms pressed against my skin and holding her up as she begins throwing her ass up and down as fast as she can.

I’m mesmerized by her, watching as she continues to use me, continues to fuck herself on me and get herself off, working off her anger while getting closer and closer to her peak.

“fuck y/n! fuck fuck fuck” it comes out as a high pitched whine as her movements grow sloppier. Her lips hit the skin of my neck but they don’t move, they just stay pressed firmly on my flesh, like she can’t focus enough to kiss me.

“need you, need you, gah fuck need you baby” Her words are muffled against my skin as she cries against me. my own loud moans spill out, ones that have been stuck in my chest for a while. I feel completely submissive under her, pathetically bucking up my hips to get as much friction as I can against my needy clit.

“gunna cum! oh my god i’m gunna cum” the end of her words are punctuated by a loud gasp as her movements stutter, unable to keep up the rhythm as her pleasure consumes her. Her legs shutter above me and her boobs push against mine as she collapses on my chest. Right as her moments halt, taken over by her high, I grab her hips harshly with both my hands and continue to move her up and down on the strap at the same rapid pace.

“that’s right baby, fucking cum for me billie, use me just like that, cum all over me, that’s its” my tone is aggressive, knowing it’s what she wants, what she needs, as she moves through her orgasm.

After more than 30 seconds she’s still cumming hard, still crying out and digging her nails into my shoulders. With a sudden scream I’m coated in her liquids as she squirts everywhere, gasping and arching and scratching at my skin.

I finally stop my forced movement of her hips, letting her fully collapse on top of me as she tries to calm her body down. Her nails are still clawing at my shoulders, muscles still clenched, breath still heavy.

“jesus fucking christ” she finally whispers.

I feel her plush lips place tender kisses on my neck when her breath begins to calm. Our bodies stay connected, her pussy still wrapped around the extension of me she just used for her pleasure, for her stress relief.

We stay like this for a few minutes, connected, quiet, intimate.

“feel better lovey?” I break the silence as my nails run up and down her sweaty back, tracing the lines of her back tattoo.

“So much better” she giggles back at me while pushing to sit up. A quiet moan slips out as she lifts her hips and slides off the strap on, laughing slightly as she sees how big of a mess she’s made, the bed all around us completely drenched.

A mischievous smirk slides across her face as she begins to fiddle with the harness still hugging me tight.

“help me get this off of you, wanna fuck my cum into you, wanna make you add to this mess now”

[angelsknifeprty]

imagine being loved by me . ۫ ꣑ৎ . - e.w

jackson!ellie x reader | 4.1k words

a/n: hiiii! i'm kinda nervous, this is my first time posting something smutty >.< i hope i did a good job, enjoy!

cw: nsfw, afab reader, cursing, smoking weed, they're both high but everything is completely consensual, nipple play (r! receiving), oral sex (r! receiving), fingering (r! receiving), two idiots high as fuck and desperately in love ghhhfhgfj

summary: your relationship with ellie is a recent development, at the point now of teetering on the edge of the deep end, so close to becoming something more serious for you both. with the help of a some maybe a little too much weed and how irritatingly good she looks in that grey hoodie of hers, you might just take that plunge.

˖𓂃.☘︎ ݁˖

you knew it was a bad idea, to let yourself get this high with ellie. you’d done this so many times before, truly abusing the gift that was accidentally stumbling into eugene’s old weed den while out on patrol together once. but back then you were just friends, two lumbering idiots excited over this newfound high that had you both giggling until you gasped for air. now things are different.

your relationship was still new, its legs still a little shaky like those of a newborn fawn. but being with ellie started to feel as easy as breathing the longer you spent together, slowly but surely figuring out what that transition from friends to lovers meant for the both of you.

“do you want any more?” ellie asked through stifled coughs, extending out her hand that held the lit joint. through a lot of trial and error, you had figured out what your threshold was and tended not to push that limit, your mind already sinking into that floaty headspace you loved so much.

despite this you hummed in thought for a moment, your reddened eyes shifting to ellie lazily leaning against the outside wall of her garage. she was wearing that grey hoodie that made your jaw clench every time you saw her in it, how she made something so simple look so good was unknown to you. you certainly weren’t complaining though.

“hmm… you know what? sure,” you shrug before reaching for the joint, because who are you to say no when she looks like that? you feel that familiar pang in your stomach when your fingers brush against hers. you almost laugh out loud at how pathetic it feels to still react to her this way, not yet fully wrapping your head around the fact that she’s actually yours. 

you get lost in the fluidity of well-trained muscle memory, passing the joint back and forth. and before you know it you’re getting that rush of fuzziness in your brain that brings out that dopey smile of yours and giggles with no particular cause.

ellie looks at you with an amused smile, noticing the adorably dumb look in your glossy eyes. 

“you okay, baby?” she chuckles as she observes you in your blissed-out state. you hum contently, the sound of that name rolling so perfectly off of her tongue, nodding enthusiastically in response.

her tolerance is a lot higher than yours, which you always complained to her about as if she could transfer the trait to you, so she was enjoying the entertainment of you being high out of your mind.

“y’look so pretty, els,” you sigh, ellie’s chest tightening at the way you’re looking at her like she hung the stars in the sky.

“really?” she huffs out a laugh, “i look like shit.” she gives herself a once-over, her hair a little messy from a busy day in jackson and her comfort hoodie thrown carelessly over her clothes.

you let out an exaggerated gasp, unable to fathom how she could look anything other than devastatingly gorgeous right now. 

“nooo, shit looks like you!” you say in a poor attempt to rebuke her statement, your befuddled condition making you fumble your words.

“oh wow, so you do agree?”

“no, no, no, wait! i messed up what i was saying-”

“uh huh, sure. c’mon, let’s get you inside, dork.”

˖𓂃.☘︎ ݁˖

things were peaceful for a while, the two of you in a cosy embrace on ellie’s bed as she reread one of her favourite savage starlight comics. you were draped across her chest, mindlessly glancing at the pages, entertained by the colourful art but not quite absorbing any of the plot.

you then make the mistake of looking up at ellie, cheek squishing against her shoulder as you admire her. your gaze flowed down the outline of her side profile like a water droplet. it started at her forehead, a place you so often left tender kisses upon. it beads down between her scarred brows, which you thought made her look so frustratingly cool, trickling across the freckled slope of her nose where it then drops off of the tip, leaving your focus right where her lips are.

your stomach flutters; the only thing your brain can focus on is how badly you want to kiss her. she wasn’t even doing anything purposefully enticing, but she didn’t have to for you to lose your mind.

ellie could feel your watchful orbs practically burning holes through her, unable to keep herself from looking back at you any longer.

“see something interesting?” ellie startles you a little as she breaks the silence, rapidly blinking at her as you regain your bearings.

“hmm… interesting is one way to describe it.” your voice has a lilt to it, the sound light and a little shy. ellie thinks you’re so precious.

“whatcha lookin’ at, pretty?” she pries, enjoying it maybe a little too much as she watches you fumble at the question, eyes darting between anywhere else in the room and what you were truly captivated by: her lips.

“ellieee…” you whine, moving so your face is hidden in her neck. your breath fans over her skin in a warm gust, making the hair on the back of her neck stand up as she swallows thickly. fuck.

“c’mon, i know you want something.” she’s purposefully trying to rile you up, placing the bookmark you made for her between the pages of her comic, and tossing it to the side. she was far more interested in you now.

“says who?” you weakly argue back.

“uh, says the look on your face. you’re not very subtle, babe.”

in all fairness, what you wanted might as well have appeared in a comedic thought bubble above your head with how clearly it was written across your face.

you mumble a quiet, “shut up,” ellie having you completely cornered. a low chuckle rumbles in her chest, your defeat amusing her.

“can you look at me, please?” ellie’s voice is gentle, that teasing cadence still present but it’s overpowered by something softer. she doesn’t just want you to look at her, she needs you to.

you pull away from your hiding place in her neck, bashful bambi eyes looking up at her finally.

“there she is,” ellie coos and it makes your head spin. your eyes gravitate back down to her lips, unable to ignore the magnetic pull they seemed to have. she knew what you wanted and you knew she wanted it too, but ellie just had to make it hard for you.

“tell me what you want and you can have it,” she whispers playfully. a reluctant groan leaves your wanting lips, (loving) hating the way she found such obvious joy in watching you squirm under her gaze.

you ultimately give in, the frayed rope that was tethering you to what was left of your self-restraint promptly snapping.

“please kiss me.”

so she does, her lips on yours in one fluid motion as she reaches up to cup your jaw. you sigh contently against her mouth now that she’s finally freeing you from this waiting game, melting as you hungrily chase each other's lips.

you feel lightheaded by the time ellie is gently guiding you onto your back, caging you in from above as if hiding you from the rest of the world. she was devouring you, selfish and possessive as she kissed you with an urgency that had you wondering if your lips would bruise. you were undeniably hers and ellie needed you to know it. and of course, you did, you didn’t see how things could be any other way.

it felt like you were about to burst; you could feel her everywhere. her calloused hand holding your face so sweetly, the mind-numbing kisses she was firmly planting onto your lips, hoping that her imprint would take root there and ruin you for anybody else. the way her knee slotted between your thighs with ease, the roughness of her jeans rubbing against you, leaving a tingle on your skin.

ellie had stolen all of the breath from your lungs, gasping for air as you pulled away from her, chest heaving. soft pants filled the air, sharing breathy giggles between the two of you. 

“hi,” you say dumbly, that same dopey grin from earlier stretching across your kiss-swollen lips.

“hi,” she repeats back, freckled cheeks dusted with a pink tint as she looks at you with glimmering eyes.

she barely gives you time to catch your breath before she’s leaning in to trail burning hot kisses down your jaw and the expanse of your neck, the flesh there sensitive under her loving attack. then she reached that spot, one she had discovered recently, pride swelling up in her chest after you made a noise she hadn’t heard from you before. she desperately wanted to hear it again.

a gasp of her name escapes your lips as she sucks and bites on the area, squirming beneath her as you feel her smile against your neck.

“yeah? you need something, baby?” she sounded so fucking cocky. if only you knew the way her heart was racing inside its bony cage, butterflies- no, more like a swarm of wasps invading her stomach. you looked so pretty underneath her, you sounded it too. the little hitches in your breath and your high-pitched whines had her hooked. it was like she was experiencing a whole new high as she watched you grow needier beneath her.

“need you.” your breathless plea is all she requires before her lips are back on yours, determined and eager.

as attractive as she looked in it you needed her out of that damn hoodie, your grabby hands tugging at it as a silent request for her to take it off. of course ellie obliges, why would she ever deny you?

she retreats for a moment to yank the grey fabric over her head, her t-shirt riding up a little in the process and it has you reeling. you felt utterly depraved having such a visceral reaction to the sliver of skin, feeling that familiar ache forming between your legs at the sight.

she was back on you again in an instant, but it wasn’t enough. you wanted to feel her, to bask in her body’s warmth as she drew those pretty sounds from you that she couldn’t get enough of.

“more, i need to feel you closer, fuck please-” your curious hands are creeping their way under her shirt now, nails dragging gently up her back. you watch as she shivers at the sensation, her head hanging low as a shaky breath passes her lips.

she’d do whatever you asked her to right now, grasping the hem of her t-shirt before pulling it over her head. you can’t help but gawk at her, completely stupefied by the sight. this was new, your clothes had always remained on up until now.

ellie feels on fire under your gaze, your half-lidded stare trailing over the definition chiselled into her stomach. you’re trying to add up every freckle you could see scattered across her pale skin, too many for you to count but you desperately wanted to know the number anyway because you wanted to know her.

“can i take your shirt off?” she sounds desperate and it puts you at ease being able to hear that she wants you just as bad as you want her.

“please, ellie,” is all you breathe out before she’s keenly dragging your shirt over your head. her eyes might as well be completely black with how big her pupils have grown, the weed mixed with the heavenly sight of you sprawled out beneath her enough to make her dizzy.

intimacy like this was somewhat new territory for you both as a couple. only recently was it that your eager hands and desperate touches made their way beneath the barriers of cotton and denim, a wall you hadn’t fully breached yet until now. but with how good she was making you feel, you knew you needed more.

brick by brick you tore it down, discarding each other’s clothing until you were left in nothing but your underwear. ellie needed to see you, all of you, her fingers twitching as they inched closer to your bra. she asks to take it off and you’re nodding your head in agreement before she can even finish her sentence. your back arches to give her room to unclasp it, feeling it grow loose around you before it’s being slid down your arms. there you are.

ellie is sure you’ve cast a spell on her, entranced by the sight of you laid almost fully bare beneath her, watching the way your chest would rise and fall as you sucked in breaths.

“you’re so fucking pretty,” she rasps in a tone reminiscent of the whines she would relentlessly mock you for. you were too far gone now to comment on it but you noticed, you could tease her about it later.

she can’t bear to not have her lips on you any longer, leaning down to trail sweet kisses down your neck once more, only this time letting herself go lower and lower.

a pathetic mewl escapes you as you feel her mouth capture one of your hardened nipples, arching into her as she sucks it into the wet warmth of her mouth. everything is so sensitive right now, the joint you smoked earlier still serving its purpose incredibly well. 

you would let her eat you whole if she asked, addicted to the contrast of her soft lips and her biting teeth as they began to mark the supple swell of your tits. you had barely started and she already had you seeing stars, her knee experimentally pushing against your clothed cunt with a little more force than before.

you’re positively soaked at this point, hyper-aware of the cool stickiness seeping through the thin fabric of your underwear. and it only gets worse for you when ellie at last decides to discard her sports bra, leaving her in just her boxers.

she’s so pretty above you, touching you in a way that makes you feel sacred.

ellie moves impossibly closer to capture your lips once more, she can’t get enough of you. you can feel all of her, skin to skin as your sensitive tits push up against each other as she lays her weight on top of you. the feeling of her grounds you, keeping you from feeling like you’re floating away. 

you’re panting into each other’s mouths, a mess of needy gasps and whines as you try and merge into one.

“please let me taste you, baby. i need it- need you.”

you’d be a fool to say no to her.

you watch as she kisses her way down your body, cherishing you like you were going to disappear at any moment. you’re throbbing beneath your underwear, clenching around nothing as she plants careful kisses over the material.

she chuckles as you whimper in frustration despite her needing this just as much as you. she looks up at you for any signs of discomfort that may have flown under her radar, but all she sees is unwavering adoration. you’re squirming but you wait so patiently for her touch, lower lip caught between your teeth in anticipation. so good for her.

you shudder as she drags your panties down the length of your legs, not missing the string of arousal that connects you to the fabric just a little longer before ellie’s throwing them in some random direction. 

she’s face to face with your aching cunt now, almost salivating at the sight of your glistening folds right in front of her, waiting for her to do something.

“ellie, please don’t tease,” you whine, hips bucking in a desperate attempt to entice her closer. she’s truly not trying to drag this out, although she does love to tease you, she’s just completely enamoured by the sight of you.

“sorry, baby,” ellie snaps herself out of her trance, “c’mere, need to taste that pussy,” she sighs dreamily.

it’s like you can feel the chemistry of your brain changing after the first drag of her tongue between your folds, all of your senses flooded by only her and you know now that you’ll spend the rest of your days chasing the feeling.

the sight of her between your thighs is already overwhelming, her eyes rolling back as she savours the heady taste of you. you can hear how wet you are as her tongue ravages you, moaning against you as if she was the one getting fucked. the pleasure was dizzying, your hand weaving into the strands of her hair in a desperate attempt to keep yourself tethered to this reality.

“fuuuck, ellie!” you squeal, her nose nudging your clit as she practically buries her face in your pussy. her eyes open to look up at you, a guttural groan rumbling in her throat as she watches your pretty face scrunch up in pleasure, brows furrowed and lips pouty as you let her have her way with you.

ellie can’t fathom how she’s supposed to want to be anywhere else but between your legs now that she’s finally gotten a taste of you. all of those longing glances and lingering touches from when you were both just friends had somehow led her here. her rightful place, she was sure of it.

she was taking mental notes of all the cute little noises she dragged out of you, noticing how you shuddered and whined when she flicked her tongue just right, clenching around nothing as she sucked your swollen bud into her mouth.

“god, you’re so fucking beautiful. can i use my fingers? please, baby, i’ll make you feel so good i promise.”

she sounds downright insatiable, begging you to let her make you feel good like she could feel it herself. she was convinced that she could, the wet patch on her boxers growing larger the longer she spent savouring you.

“yes please- oh fuck- please, ellie…”

she has rendered you almost completely mindless, dragging her finger up and down your slick folds. she experimentally pushes it inside of you, watching intently as your eyes flutter at the sensation.

“yeah, that feel good, pretty?” ellie asks in that low, sultry tone of hers that makes your stomach do cartwheels. all you can do is eagerly nod, lightning shooting through your limbs as she reattaches her mouth to your pussy. amidst all of this, she slides in a second finger, your slick helping her enter you with ease as a strangled moan leaves your mouth.

you could feel yourself hurtling towards the edge. the combination of her tongue lapping against your folds, her fingers dragging against that sweet spot inside of you and the weed still buzzing in your system has you ready to give her everything you’d been holding back.

she could feel it too, the telltale clenching around her fingers and the way you struggled to form a coherent sentence. and she was obsessed with it, about ready to cum in her boxers just from the taste of you.

“els, i’m so close- oh my god, please let me cum. please, please, please-”

she pulls away for a moment, still pumping her fingers into you to keep you on that edge.

“you gonna cum for me, baby? that’s right, give it to me, c’mon.”

ellie had learned alarmingly fast just how to coax you into giving her exactly what she wants, your legs starting to tense up as she dives back into you, lips messily making out with your cunt.

you could feel her everywhere and it almost scared you, completely unable to escape the undeniable reality of how fucking in love you are with her and it’s making you feral.

“e-ellie, i think i’m gonna- fuck, i’m cumming!” your mind goes blank as she pushes you over the edge, feeling the waves of it throughout your entire body as you convulsed around her fingers.

your hips buck frantically as you ride out your high, ellie’s muffled moans vibrating against your sensitive entrance as she greedily lapped up your juices. 

“oh my god, ellie! fuck, i love you, i love you, loveyousomuch-” you mindlessly babble without thinking, too far gone to notice the way ellie’s eyes widen and her thrusts speed up ever so slightly.

you let her indulge in you until you had to squirm away from the overstimulation, your body limp and tired after she had just wrecked you. you try to regain your bearings, feeling ellie remove herself from between your legs and move so she can hold you against her.

she litters sweet kisses across your face, humming happily as you turn your head to capture her lips with yours once again. you whimper at the taste of yourself on her mouth, melting into her until your breathing starts to even out.

“you okay?” she whispers, rubbing her hand soothingly up and down your arm. you hum sleepily, nodding your head in response.

“are you okay?” you ask her back, voice soft and a little hoarse now.

“yeah, i’m okay, baby. y’did so well for me.” ellie pecks the top of your head, completely smitten as she looks at your limp body cuddled up in her arms.

she thinks back to a few minutes ago of you professing your love for her as she made you come undone, her stomach fluttering at the recent memory. she debates waiting until you’re not half asleep to ask about it, but she just can’t help herself.

“did you mean what you said? when you said that… you loved me?” she’s nervous to ask, not knowing how she’d react if you had just said it on a whim. nothing more than just words.

“i said that?” you ask in confusion. you look mortified and ellie’s stomach twists. these aren’t the butterflies she had felt with you moments before, it felt like she’d been poisoned.

“y-yeah… you said it when you finished.” you’re quiet for a little while, this worries ellie. she feels like an idiot, her palms are starting to get sweaty. did she just ruin everything? fuck, fuck, fuck-

really you were just trying to rack your brain for when those very important words had left your mouth. and then you hear it, transported back to the memory in a third-person view.

she’s making you feel so good, your back arching as the shockwaves of your orgasm slam into you. you look down at her, and she looks undoubtedly obsessed with you. she’s latched onto your pussy like she’s starving, drinking in everything that you give her. and then you say it. a raw and terrifyingly real confession of, “i love you.” and you say it again and again, chanting it like a prayer as you promised her your heart like it was nothing.

“oh my god, ellie i’m so sorry.” she almost winces, she shouldn’t have said anything-

“i wanted to tell you how i felt properly on a date or something, not while you made me cum like a fucking loser, shit-”

ellie is confused for a moment, having been bracing herself for you to tell her that you don’t love her the way she definitely did you. but then you didn’t…

oh.

“this is so embarrassing,” you whine, furrowing your brows angrily when you see the cheesy grin making its way across ellie’s face. “don’t laugh at me! this is so humiliating.”

“no no, i’m not laughing at you! fuck no, i thought you were gonna tell me you didn’t mean what you said.” you tilt your head, the both of you now a little confused.

“oh…” you whisper. but if she wasn’t uncomfortable with you saying that you love her did that mean…?

“thought i was dreaming when i heard you say it. but i wasn’t and i am so fucking happy.” she holds you a little tighter now. “i love you so much, been wanting to tell you for a while now.”

“tell me again.” your request is simple but she knew how much it meant. ellie gently takes your hand and holds it in front of her face, leaning forward to press her lips to each finger tip.

“i love you,” kiss. “i love you,” kiss. “i love you,” another kiss.

there’s a warmth blooming in your chest that you can’t ignore and you feel so safe in her arms. floaty and calm whilst you snuggle into her side, your eyes flutter tiredly as she tells you she loves you as many times as you need to hear.

maybe getting a little too high with ellie wasn’t such a bad idea.

[cheol-e-kat]

Look who's here hehe😈👯‍♀️ im going to order these because i am heavily fic deprived💔

for the server, it's seungcheol (those pics wrecked me), starters- baked brie, main- coq au vin (😈) , dessert- pot de creme AND the drink is gonna be le club

Leaving you w your amazing brain because ik you'll cook smth up��

𝐛𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐮 𝐩𝐨𝐩 𝐮𝐩 𝐜𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

master list & tag list

order #001 coq au vin for @scoupshawty (aka my beta reader)

𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐟'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: haiii dearest, hope you love it ^^

pairing:  choi seungcheol / f!reader 

summary:  seungcheol's co-worker asks him to be her fake date - too bad that they have known each other since college and have left way too many things unsaid, even if winning a big client is on the line

word count: 3.9k

genre: office au, smut, idiots in love, slightest angst, fake dating-ish, low key exes to lovers / second chance

rating: 18+, mdni, explicit

warnings: fingering, oral sex, penetrative sex, messy sex, multiple orgasms

Seungcheol stared at his computer screen, reading the announcements for end-of-year promotions. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. 

First, he hadn’t been promoted. 

Second, James had been. James, who hadn’t even been here that long. James, who constantly came over to ask him questions about how he should be doing things. 

James who was a complete fucking dolt in Seungcheol’s mind. 

But he was promoted before Seungcheol. He pressed his lips together tightly in annoyance and pushed away from his desk. 

He needed a break. 

He passed by James’ cubicle just in time to hear people actively congratulating James on the ‘big’ move up. Seungcheol wanted to punch a wall. Or kick something. Whatever. 

Instead, he walked down the hall and towards the door for the stairwell, his choice spot for loitering because no one ever thought to check there. 

Or so he thought. Because today he opened the door to find his other nemesis, Y/n, leaning against the safety railing with a vape pen, looking a bit amused. 

He started to back away, but she had looked at him immediately. He was surprised that she smiled at him. 

“I thought you would wind up here,” she quipped softly. 

He shrugged. “Why?”

“It’s your spot for pouting,” she said, still smiling. 

Seungcheol sighed, she was just as evil as he remembered. “I’m not pouting - I’m taking a break,” he said plainly. 

“Umhm, a break from James?” She asked as she looped her arm through his. “ And everyone congratulating him - it’s obnoxious by the way,” she said, voice full of sarcasm, as she rolled her eyes. 

Seungcheol watched her for a moment, surprised to hear her breathe a word of criticism towards anyone so openly. 

It was part of why she annoyed him so much - she was always too perky and smiling and willing to say ‘yes’ to leading every bad project like it was a gift, and not a mountain of shit. To be fair, she always had a way of making shit into an opportunity for advancement. 

She sighed. “Anyway, who cares, I came to find you in your pouting place because I have an offer for you”—

Seungcheol couldn’t help but laugh, a small laugh, but still. “An offer for what?” He asked harshly. 

She pursed her lips in annoyance. “An offer that could help us both bring in a really big client - the kind that can’t be ignored when mid-year reviews come up.” She eyed him as she said the last part. 

Seungcheol glanced at the exit door, wondering what he was doing even listening to her. 

She was perky, which he hated, but she was also a shark when it came to deals - and she had a habit of making sure no one else got credit for them when she inevitably landed them. 

He shook his head, “You mean no one will ignore the fact you brought it in.”

She smiled at that. “You know it’s interesting, so many people say they worked with me to bring something in, but I never remember asking them to help, much less them being in the room with me delivering the pitch,” she sighed, “Funny though, that they’re all so hands on, and I just cut them out.”

They were both quiet.

She sighed, staring at the ground. “I’ve never asked anyone to help with my leads, but I am asking you because I think I can trust you. If you want to hear the rest, you can text me.” 

And she was gone, leaving Seungcheol with his thoughts about her. 

⋆⭒˚.⋆

Seungcheol found himself sitting across from her in a small bistro, both their faces lit by the soft glow of fake candles as the sounds of glasses clinking gently and conversations spiked by light laughter filtered around them. 

They, however, were a dead zone in all the seeming happiness. 

They hadn’t talked so far. He pretended to stare at the menu for the umpteenth time while she sat taking notes on a call that never seemed to end. 

He had taken two trains to be sitting there. He certainly hadn’t expected to find her still immersed in a call for work. She had quickly passed him a note with her drink order and an appetizer written on it for him to try to decipher when the waiter came over. 

He was glad he had thought better of things and eaten a protein bar before he caught the train. He was annoyed that he hadn’t changed though - she was in jeans and a tshirt with a black jacket thrown over her shoulders. He was still in a full suit. At least his tie was gone, he told himself. 

She finished the call after the appetizer was on the table. 

“Cute that you waited for me,” she grinned as she speared a little pickle off the board. 

He was too tired to play. “Can you at least tell me why we needed to meet outside the office?”

She nodded as she ate. “Because it’s nicer than being in the office, for one,” she paused to sip her wine. “And for two, uh, I don’t want to tip anyone else off - I’m not joking that it’s a big lead, but for once, I do literally need someone to work with me to get it.”

He nodded. “You told me that part.”

She groaned. “You’re too uptight for this - look nice food, nice wine, I’m paying - this is better than the stairwell, wouldn’t you say?”

Seungcheol stared at her. In reality, he stared at her often and had done since they’d known one another. Even if he hated himself for staring, she was undeniably beautiful. 

She had a way of drawing him in that he couldn’t deny. And he sometimes even enjoyed seeing her be successful - the way she looked when she had beaten someone else - he secretly loved the way she looked then. 

He blinked. “Sure. But why am I here? You don’t exactly like me, so I’m curious.”

He saw the soft way her brows scrunched at his comment as she popped an olive in her mouth. “Did I say that I don’t like you?”

He sighed. “Can we just - just explain, please?” He didn’t feel like poking around old wounds.

She nodded, still eating. “I need you to be my date for a weekend.”

He waited for something else to be said. But she was looking at the menu now. 

“You need me to do what?”

She glanced up. “Be my date - did I not say it clearly?”

He tilted his head in confusion. “That’s - that doesn’t make sense,” he spluttered. He was feeling the awkwardness start to gnaw at him. 

She didn’t seem to think anything about it. “Look, the lead is this couple - they have tons of businesses, they want valuations for them, but they’re you know couple-y, and the only way to get an in, is to be part of a couple - so I need someone to come along.” She shrugged and sipped from her wine glass like she had just proposed the simplest thing in the world.  

He stared for a moment, letting what she said sink in. “Don’t you have friends?” He blurted out. 

“Yes - but my friends don’t know the business or about our verticals or anything really, but you do,” she cooed, a small smile growing on her face. 

Seungcheol could only stare because it was like she already knew she had won. She already knew he would say ‘yes’ to whatever she proposed, no matter how crazy. And she wasn’t coy about it. 

He was glad the waiter stepped in. He ordered the coq au vin, and tried to compose himself while she ordered. 

He really wished that he wasn’t still so transparent - it was like being in college with her all over again. She had always known what to say to him. Even when they were competing for grades and internships. She could always talk him into whatever she was up to. 

And he never turned her down. 

But here he was, presumably older and wiser, but no, his brain had already tracked the fact that she was clearly single. He already knew work ruled her life. 

And she needed something from him. And he was much too ready to agree, even if it was fake. 

He at least made her wait for a few minutes before he agreed.

⋆⭒˚.⋆

He walked her home, rolling his eyes. “Of course, you live this close to the office.”

She laughed. “Yeah, it’s kind of pathetic, right?”

He shrugged, wishing his commute was as short as hers. But he would also need to be making a lot more to live in the same district as her. He always managed to forget that she was a rich girl. But she never really acted like one - and she’d never made him feel like shit for not being rich too. 

She caught his hand lightly, her fingers twining with his. “Come up?”

He glanced down at their hands, wondering why she always did things like that when they were alone. He felt himself nodding, glancing up to look at her. “Yeah,” he murmured. 

It was too easy to go upstairs with her - too easy to find himself kissing her. He picked her up and pressed her against the wall, her legs wrapping around his waist. All muscle memory, he knew.

Their kisses were needy. He pressed her harder against the wall, wanting no distance between them as their mouths crashed together and his hands gripped her waist. He felt her playing with his hair, winding it around her fingers before tugging gently. He groaned softly against her lips, parting just enough for his mind to comprehend what he was doing.

He smoothed her hair back. “I should leave,” he murmured.

Her fingers dug into his shoulder gently. “Why?” Her voice was breathy and sweet.

He shook his head. “This isn’t a good idea.”

She bit her lower lip. “You always say that - that or how I don’t like you, and I’ve no idea why.”

He let her down from the wall gently. He didn’t need to explain himself. He had made the mistake of letting things with her get out of hand before, and he wasn’t sure he could deal with it again.

That didn’t keep him from jerking off the moment he was back home and safe in his own bed. The thought of what could have happened was enough for him. 

It had to be enough.

⋆⭒˚.⋆

He didn’t break off their deal, even after a few days of thinking it over. 

Instead, he found himself going to a dinner party with her later that week. 

He was sitting in her living room, waiting for her to touch up whatever imaginary thing needed ‘touching up’ before they left. He had no clue what could possibly be wrong and needed to be righted. She looked ridiculously perfect. 

He relaxed into the sofa, enjoying the fact that she didn’t have a roommate. Her apartment was perfectly quiet. 

“Why am I going to this thing with you?” He suddenly called out. 

Even from where he was, he could hear her sigh loudly. “Because we need to seem like a real couple, so some practice is probably helpful.”

He sighed. “More practice,” he muttered.

Just imagining interacting with anyone was too much. He was too tired. He had worked late the last few nights - he didn’t want to spend his evening making small talk with strangers. Practice small talk, he wondered to himself if that was what it was considered.

It wasn’t like he didn’t know anything about her. He sighed and stared at the ceiling. He could have a passable conversation about her with someone, he thought to himself as he stretched and settled even more into the sofa’s cushions. 

He was surprised when he felt a light touch against his cheek. His eyes snapped open. She was leaning over him, watching him with a soft gaze. 

“Should I just order something for us?” She asked, her fingers tracing gently through his hair. He waited for some sign that she was annoyed with him for falling asleep. 

He blinked softly, shaking his head. “You’ll be upset if we don’t go.”

She shrugged. “As long as we’re being domestic or whatever, that’s probably good enough?” 

He couldn’t tell if it was a genuine question. It didn’t help that she was so close, and it was only made worse because she was still playing with his hair. 

He wasn’t sure when he made the decision to put his hands on her hips. But he did, and they were there, and she didn’t seem to care. 

“How domestic are we supposed to be?” He asked, his voice breaking slightly as he glanced up at her. 

She just smiled at the question. “Ideally, we’re just as domestic and comfortable with one another as a real couple who’ve been together for a bit.”

He nodded slowly. “So ordering food in is domestic?” 

She nodded. “Mhmm.”

He chewed his lip lightly - she hadn’t moved or stopped what she was doing. He wondered if he could ask for more in the spirit of domesticity. 

“Can I stay over? It’s like three trains to get back to mine,” he mumbled. 

She laughed softly. “Are we going to make out again, too?” She asked with a small smile. 

He blushed hard. “Fuck, like stay on the couch,” he clarified. 

She grinned at his reaction. “But we could make out, and you could sleep in my room - I wouldn’t mind,” she whispered. 

He blinked again, wondering what fever dream he was in that she was curled in his lap like a happy cat, playing with his hair, and offering to let him join her in bed. 

It was exactly the kind of thing he had imagined a thousand times when they were in college. Usually with the addition of fucking in the library’s stacks. He always loved the idea of fucking her and whispering about how she had to be quiet the whole time. 

He was surprised to feel her lips brush gingerly against his own. But his feelings of surprise quickly melted as he pulled her close, wanting their kiss to last. 

He pulled her flush against him as they kissed - he squeezed her waist and let his hands drift lower to ass. He felt the soft roll of her hips against him.

He groaned softly in protest as she pulled away and sat up. Her hands pressed gently into his chest. “See - not so bad to practice,” she whispered.

He shook his head. “I didn’t say it would be - it’s just not”—

“Not what?” She cut in, watching him intently like she knew what he was going to say. Like he might finally admit why he pulled away as much as she did when they got too close.

He pressed his teeth into his lower lip, trying to think of how to say what he wanted. “It’s not what I want,” he murmured. 

She was quick, though. “What do you want?” Even her voice was too soft, caressing him, teasing him. 

He shook his head, wanting to avoid saying more. Even when he knew perfectly well what he wanted - her. All of her. 

Her fingertips traced along his chest. “Wouldn’t it be easier if you just said it?”

“Said what?” His voice was barely a whisper as he watched her.

“What you know you want,” she whispered as her hands traced up his chest. “What you’ve been wanting,” she corrected herself, as she glanced at him, her gaze inviting and vulnerable. 

He wondered if she could feel his heart beating faster in his chest. He felt the way her fingers barely caught in the collar of his shirt, and the smallest graze of her fingers against his throat sent fire blooming across his skin.

He caught her hand gently, bringing her fingers to his lips, kissing them softly. “This isn’t real, though,” he whispered. No matter how badly he wanted it to be real - he knew it wasn’t.

Her fingertips brushed his lips. “So make it real.” 

He leaned into her touch as her fingers shifted to his cheek, but he shook his head. “No,” he breathed. 

“You have to make it real - you already know how I feel, or you wouldn’t have ever asked me for this,” he said plainly, watching her for a response.

He held his breath, waiting for her to do the thing she always did and find some way to push him away. 

She just nodded, though. “Stay the night with me?”

It had been a long time since she last asked him to stay over, but it didn’t change how it made him feel. The warmth that seemed to pool in every part of him at the idea of just lying next to her. 

It made his mouth dry. “Why?”

“Because I want you to,” she mumbled. 

He shook his head softly - he wanted more.

He watched the way pink crept across her cheeks. “Because I know how good it feels to wake up next to you, and I think about it way too often, and how much I miss it - how much I miss you.” 

He hummed softly, almost satisfied with her confession. 

She kissed him again, her fingers just below his jaw, tipping his head back. “And besides, I don’t like the idea of anyone else with you,” she whispered with a pout.

He raised his brow. “When has there been anyone else?”

She shrugged. “You brought someone to the holiday party for one…” she trailed off. 

He smiled. “Jealous?”

She nodded. “Always,” she whispered and pressed close again, kissing him softly. 

She broke the kiss after a few moments. “Stay?”

He nodded, pulling her back in for another kiss.

⋆⭒˚.⋆

He woke up slowly the next day, glad it was Saturday and that he didn’t need to rush. But he was also glad to feel her next to him.

He turned over so her back was against his chest. He kissed her shoulder and traced his fingers just under the hem of her shirt, feeling her warm, soft skin. 

She hummed softly.

He nipped gently at her neck, letting his hand trace lower, playing with the little bow on the front of her panties before he dipped his fingers under the waistband.

He heard her breathy groan. “Cheol,” she whispered.

“Umhm,” he murmured against her skin.

She turned back, her lips making sweet contact with his. She kissed him as he traced his middle finger between her slick folds. No matter how long it had been, he always remembered just how hot and wet her pussy was. 

He was quick to work his first two fingers inside her, which earned him a moan. She pulled his hair gently. “I know you still know what I like,” she purred.

He grinned softly. “Hmm, nothing new?”

Her fingers trailed lightly along his shoulder. “Maybe, but only because no one else can do what you do to me,” she smiled as she spoke. 

He blinked slowly, letting her words sink in. The idea that he was the standard, her standard, went straight to his dick. 

With a groan, he had her on her back, panties off, and his face buried in her pussy. He licked and sucked her puffy little clit as he worked his fingers deep inside her, scissoring them open, pressing hard against her sticky walls. He could hear her whining and whimpering for him. 

He loved how messy he could make her. 

He leaned up, licking his lips as he pushed the heel of his palm into her low stomach, knowing the extra pressure would help. “Just let go, baby - I know you want to,” he mumbled, pressing kisses to her inner thigh. 

She groaned. “Press harder,” she gasped.

He did what she asked and suddenly she came, all of her jucies rushing freely - he fucked his fingers into her harder before pulling out and giving her pussy a smack.

He sat on his knees, watching her catch her breath, and hearing all the little sounds she made. When he touched her clit, she arched off the bed and whimpered, whispering his name. 

He was painfully hard just from seeing her this way. It was one thing to remember how fucked out she could look. But seeing her again, hearing her, feeling her - he felt like he could almost come untouched. 

Instead, he slid his hands gently under her hips, shifting her closer and pushing a pillow under her. He lined himself up with her, teasing her perfect little hole, knowing all the prep in the world wouldn’t matter. She always screamed for him.

He teased her at first, barely letting the head of his cock penetrate her. She whined softly. “Cheol,” she whimpered.

He glanced at her. “Hmm?”

She smiled. “Love when you tease me with your cock - how wet you make me…” she trailed off as he pressed into her again, going just a bit deeper.

“Like that?”

She nodded, her hands going to her breasts, teasing them. “Missed this so much,” she gasped as he pushed in farther. 

He nodded. “Missed it too, baby girl,” he whispered, teasing her slowly, loving the way her walls clenched desperately around him. 

He teased her enough for her to orgasm again. She was wet enough then to take him. 

They both gasped and moaned as he truly sank into her. He squeezed her thighs to ground himself as he bottomed out inside her. “So fucking tight,” he breathed.

He could feel her hands tracing along his arms, squeezing his forearms as she whined softly. “Just move, just fuck me - please fuck me,” she begged. 

He nodded slowly and began to move, slow at first, finding the right rhythm. And then he could fuck her - his hips snapping, his pace relentless. Even when he felt the bite of her nails and she raked her fingers along his stomach, he didn’t care. 

Nothing mattered besides the way her pussy fluttered around his cock, squeezing and releasing him, teasing him. And the moment he felt her sudden release, the heat of her cum washing over his cock, even as her thighs were shaking desperately, he could only fuck into harder. 

The lewd sound of all her slick and wetness mixed with their skin smacking together, all he wanted was to come inside her. He could still hear her softly whimpering his name. Her hands traced along his chest. He didn’t expect her to be coherent enough to give his nipple a teasing pinch, but he groaned when she did, smiling when she didn’t stop, when she did it a second time, pulling gently. 

“Make me full, Cheol,” she gasped, “fuck me harder,” she whined.

He caught her thigh, pulling it over his shoulder, so he could go even deeper. She yelped. He grinned devilishly, knowing exactly how it would push her over the edge again. And when it did, he finally let go too, his cum mixing perfectly with hers. 

He pumped into her a few more times, just to see the glistening mess of her pussy juices covering his cock. He finally leaned over her, kissing her gently. Everything was soft after. 

Everything was perfect. 

a/n: haiii cuties - i know it's been a bit since i posted a longer uhhh anything, so hope you enjoy this and hopefully i can get back to my normal writing schedule and post more

⋆˙⟡♡ 𝒌𝒂𝒕

♡ my [master list] if you want to read more

♡ if you want to be tagged in my posts, go [here]

𝐦𝐲 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐨𝐥 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬 ^^

angst - [ a ] || fluff - [ f ] || smut - [ s ]

teasers: all but break your heart |୨୧| tonight tonight |୨୧| cold fire (cheol only - attorney au)

drabbles: co-worker & spanking [ s ] |୨୧| gamer boy [ s ] |୨୧| professor one [ s ] | valentine's day [ f ] |୨୧| 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚗 𝚍𝚘𝚘𝚛 𝚘𝚗𝚎, 𝚏𝚎𝚊𝚝. 𝚌.𝚜𝚌 [ s ] #kat_drabbles

fluff: profound, not sudden [ f ]

smut: see bingo series above and random slutty thoughts collection

series: obvious affection [ pt. 1 f ] [ pt. 2 f & s ] |୨୧| 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒖𝒑 𝒕𝒐 𝒚𝒐𝒖 [ pt. 1 s ] [ pt. 2 s ] |୨୧| 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒇. 𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒊 [ pt. 1 s ] [ pt. 2 s ] |୨୧| 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 [ master list ] [ pt. 1 s ] [ pt. 2 s ] [ pt. 3 f & s ]

seungcheol bingo [ all s] : knotting + marking | professor (prof. choi, pt. 1) | monster | spanking (neighbor seungcheol) | big dick + hate sex | forced masturbastion (prof. choi, pt ii) | voyeurism + punishment | coffee shop au + forbidden relationship (never let you go pt. 1) | bodyguard + drunk confession | anon sex + hair pulling + mask wearing (all up to you part i) | big dick!cheol + hate sex (choose your own adventure) | sexual frustration + ex sex |

omegaverse (a/b/o): alpha seungcheol [pt. 1] [pt. 2] || never let you go [master list] [part 1 f & s] [part 2 f ] ||

[tag list] ☁︎ @syluslittlecrows [e] ☁︎ @gyuguys [e] ☁︎ @tinyelfperson [e] ☁︎ @unlikelysublimekryptonite [e] ☁︎ @livelaughloveseventeen [e] ☁︎ @codeinebelle [e] ☁︎ @ateez-atiny380 [e] ☁︎ @mingcouper [e] ☁︎ @hanniebub [e] ☁︎ @perfectiondazesworld [e] ☁︎ @scoupshawty [e] ☁︎ @peachytokki [e] ☁︎ @coupsbestleader [e] ☁︎ @fleurloovin [e] ☁︎ @babybae-shisui [e] ☁︎ @asyre [e] ☁︎ @dcrlingyou [e] ☁︎ @yeosayang [e] ☁︎ @nanabananananabatman ☁︎ @aaronwarners69thwife [e] ☁︎ @yoongznme [e] ☁︎ @gyuhao365 [e] ☁︎ @jeonghnie [e] ☁︎ @armycarat2612 [e] ☁︎ @shuas-winnie30 [e] ☁︎ @famouspoetrydinosaur [e] ☁︎ @ateezaddict24 [e] ☁︎

☁︎ @haik-chu [e - one/multi] ☁︎ @gigglensnort [e - one/multi/priv] ☁︎ @thepoopdokyeomtouched [e - multi/priv] ☁︎ @stupendouschildnerd [e - one/multi] ☁︎ @tokitosun [e - one/multi ] ☁︎

☁︎ @living0livia [ c.sc - e ] ☁︎ @angelarin [c.sc - one/multi] ☁︎

[eraserbread]

Hi there (●’◡’●)ﾉ

So, uhm, I've been constantly thinking about this scenario (pls excuse my poor english, it's not my first language lmao)

It's a widow!reader (fem pronouns) who's still isn't over her husband yet, she dreams about him, still cooks for him, and even touches herself thinking about his own touch on her skin. Her sad silly brain isn't much of work right now, not even with her new job.

This new job where the tired blond-haired man (aka our beloved Nanamin 😔❤) was designed as her responsible to teach the company rules and productivity. Finding it oddly cute when she asks the same thing more than once because the amount of info makes her confuse, when she isn't used to the fuzzy and rapidly rhythm of the office and ends up bumping into anyone that also wants to use the printer or get a coffee. Always trying to stay closer to her to make sure she's safe with a one mind thought: "Just taking care of the newbie"

But this "Taking care" certainly didn't evolve him waiting for you outside your apartment building to take the same train with you, certainly helping you when you needed. Enjoying the "friendly" lunch you packed him to thank his guidance, making him crave more of your cooking. When you share more of your deceased husband with him, crying on his shoulder for comfort that he heartily offers you.

Though, one night, this "comfort" turned into something more, which was him taking you to his place after drinking and crying your problems out. He clearly didn't expected her perverted nature to show so freely after a few drinks with coworkers. Begging on your knees to "make her forget about this sadness" which, as a good friend, he does.

Taking you on his bed with the most mind blowing sensations ever, leaving our poor widow craving more of his touch that he calls "just helping a friend in need"

But again, just a thought- ʕ； •`ᴥ•´ʔ

- from Coffee ☕

hi sweet coffee this is perfection thankuthanku for trusting me with your vision. i've been thinking about ken and his little widow all day holyssihff. please send me more of these ideas

kento's never been a liar. he's told variations of the truth on occasion, perhaps to dull a reaction, or to run from it himself, but that's as far as it goes.

yet he finds he's lying to himself more than not, and, as cruel as it sounds, he knows it's your fault.

but, how can it be the fault of the shy, little clumsy new girl? i mean, you can hardly log into your computer without his trusting gaze over your shoulder nodding you through it. you're prisoner to his praise, to his hard body hovering behind you as you're scrolling through wordless spreadsheets.

the night after you completed your company-mandated training with him, kento lied to himself again and thought the lingering look you had on his reddened lips was just a hoax. after all, you're so very innocent—plagued, too.

he remembers the little passing statement you made about switching jobs after your husband's death. he nodded you through it, and kept it in his back pocket when he needed to remind himself to give you grace.

but, how does giving you grace lead to waiting up for each other once the five o'clock bell rings, promising to be neighbors on the train ride home?

and what grace entails pressing your loose, drunken body on his mattress, alcohol still so prominent in his veins as he tugs helplessly at your pants? he wants to be between your thighs—you want him there, even when you're drunk, you act the same around him, just less apologetic.

he smiles thinking about how you crawled to him on your knees just minutes earlier, so flushed and hot—burning with need and vocal about the fact that you couldn't stop thinking about him.

it stems a little deeper than friendship—or co-workership... if that's even a thing. it becomes a need, a normal part of your day. now, your pining is reciprocated. he's face-to-face with the black lace panties you wore with him in the back of your mind.

he's so incredibly deliberate as he takes the soft lace between his fingers, studying the hitch in your breath as he peeks under them. the goal is to hold back—always. kento is often rudely reminded of his own strength and stamina in times like this, and you were a delicate flower blossoming under his hot breath.

so he digs his fingers in your thigh, whispering, "will you let me help you?"

[darnell-la]

Old man Logan non conning reader and she wets herself because she is scared

note: we’ve never written anything like this in our writing lives, but we’ll try it out! please feel free to suggest more!

warning: cnc, rough sex, choking, stalking, kidnapping, threatening, etc 

———

After to many shots, y/n told her friends it was time for her to leave, then made her way back to her apartment. She had been drinking all night, so walking home felt like a nightmare.

The younger woman could barely see, walk, speak, or do anything that involved to much function in her body.

Y/n had been denying men all night, in and out of the club. She was surprised that the men she passed made no effort to continue talking to her. It’s almost like she had a guarding angel watching over her.

Y/n wasn’t rich, but had a great amount of money for her age. Living in a secure and well kept apartment made her feel safer when she made her way back through the front building doors.

“Wait up!” Someone said behind y/n, making her turn quickly. That’s when she saw an older man wave his hand, motioning her to hold the door open. “Oh- sorry,” y/n said as she stumbled back to the door to wait for the man to make his way inside.

“God, it’s so good out there — Thank you so much for waiting for me,” the stranger said as he walked towards the elevators with y/n right next to him. If she wasn’t drunk, she wouldn’t have kept the door open, but tonight felt safe. She felt safe.

“Good night, tonight, yeah?” The older man asked as y/n swiped her card and pushed the button to her room. “Yeah, was pretty good,” y/n said with a smile as she struggled to keep her vision clear.

“Any plans tonight? Friends, family or boyfriend?” The man asked, pushing his limit, knowing he could become the lady was beyond out of it. “No, just me and my bed,” y/n chuckled, feeling a slight pain in her brain.

She knew something was off, but she couldn’t quit put a finger on it.

“Oh- sorry for not asking, but, what floor?” Y/n asked, thinking that was what was making her uncomfortable. “Same floor as you, Bub,” the man replied. Y/n didn’t know what to say so she just smiled and nodded.

She lived on one of the highest floors, so the silence in the elevator was a bit awkward. Y/n hated the silence, because usually she’s a loud and outgoing person, but after a while of being in silence, she started to think.

Y/n hated being one of those people, he she knows almost everyone in her floor. This man looks nothing like any resident she’s seen. Especially with the Jean, belt, and tight shirt combo.

“Have a great night!” Y/n said as she quickly made her way out of the elevator. “Wait!” The stranger said behind y/n, making her pick up her pace. Even though she sounded friendly, she knew people can fake and become something crazy in seconds.

“Young lady, wait,” the stranger spoke again, trying to catch up, but thankfully, y/n was near her room. “Goodnight, sir- It’s late,” y/n said as she lifted her keycard. “Y/n, just wait,”

That was when the young lady stumbled with everything she did. She had know idea how he knew her name. The man was old, and none of her friends would be near his age.

“I said wait,” the older man said as he came up behind y/n. The man covered her mouth as he pulled her into her own apartment. “No, no, no!” Y/n tried screaming, but she wasn’t lying us enough.

“Ssh- You shouldn’t have let me in,” the man said as he pulled the young lady directly to her room, making her think how he knew where she slept. Had he been stalking her? How? He seemed too old and sweet to be like this.

“Get undressed, won’t ya?” The man threw y/n onto her bed roughly, slightly hurting her rips. He was pretty strong for his age. “S-Sir, please — I-I have money if you’d like. Even valuable objects if you-“

“Call me Logan, and I’m not here for your money. I’m here for you, and you think you know what,” Logan said with a look in his eyes that sent shivers down y/n’s spine. The more she scanned him, the more familiar he began to look.

“L-Logan, as in the wolverine? I-I thought you were a hero? Why are you here? What do you want!?” Y/n’s eyes began to water, confused on what an x-man was doing in her apartment demanding her to take off her clothes.

“My public image has nothing to do with my desires, Bub — Now, get undressed before I ruin you more than I have to,” Logan said as he began taking his own clothes off.

“No- No!” Y/n quickly got up from her bed, almost tumbling over, but was caught by Logan. The man threw her back onto the bed, but this time, climbed over her to keep her in place.

“You think you’re getting away from me? Even if you weren’t pissy drunk, you’d be too weak to go against me,” Logan growled before he ripped off y/n’s dress like it was paper.

“Always knew your body would be sexy — I can’t wait to taste every inch of you,” y/n tried her best to kick and scream, but her guiding had think walls and her he was to strong.

The more she’s struggled, the more she realized she wasn’t getting out of anything Logan was going to put her through. That’s when she began to cry.

“Keep your fucking body still, before I break something, do you understand me?” But y/n didn’t listen. She continued to kick and punch, and for that she received a hard slap, almost taking her out.

“Keep fucking around, and you’ll find out, Bub — I want you, but that can be conscious or unconscious,” y/n whined as the room spun. “G-Get off,” y/n cried, only making Logan grab y/n by the neck tightly.

“I’m going to have so much fun with you,” Logan whispered as he moved inches in front of her face. Y/n has been trying to act tough and strong, but that was all over once liquid began running down her leg.

Logan slowly looked down, before looking back up at y/n with a smirk. “You’re that scared? God, you’re pathetic — Just how I like it,” that’s when Logan made his way in between her legs, ready to use her like he’s been dreaming of.

“Y-You won’t get away with this — I-I’ll tell everyone!” Y/n said, as Logan wiped across the younger girls folds before showing her the mess she made. “You think you have the guts to too them what I’m about to do with you, after you did this? Hmm!?”

Logan couldn’t help but laugh as he pulled himself out of his boxers that he didn’t have time to take off earlier.

“Oh, baby — I’d fuck you dumb enough to make you forget to talk. I don’t think you’ll even have the chance to leave two feet out of my sight,”

That’s what the man pushed into y/n with force she could barely handle. The scream she let out, almost made her voice die out. He was huge, and he knew it would be too much for someone like y/n. A none mutant. She wouldn’t be able to heal as fast after he’s done with her.

“Tightest cunt I’ve ever been in — You’re a great find and not a waste of my time — I’m definitely keeping you, Bub,”

[splitfictionthings]

You're... Not A Centipede

It was... weird, picturing Zoe's parents as not a conjoined Centipede.

Ok that's a weird sentence but still. During their time in Zoe's subconscious, they'd spent a lot of time with the parent-ipede, and consequently, Mio had kind of formed an idea in her mind about Zoe's parents.

And attached it to the depiction she'd seen - you know. The centipede.

Oh she'd seen Zoe's parents since - in video calls. But there is nothing quite like landing in England and seeing Zoe throw herself into two people's arms and still catching yourself looking around for a double-headed fucking centipede.

"This must be Mio, right?" Charlie smiled, one hand still wrapped around his daughter's shoulder as he reached forward with the other one.

"Um... yeah." She shook the offered hand weakly. "Charlie, yeah?"

"Yes, and this is my wife Leanne."

"A pleasure," Leanne grinned, a slight dimple in her cheek not dissimilar to Zoe's. "We've heard so much about you!"

"Whatever you heard I didn't do it."

Charlie laughed, loud and booming, while Zoe slapped Mio's shoulder.

"Only good things!" She insisted, and Mio elbowed her back.

"You do over exaggerate sometimes."

"Oi!"

"Now, now," Leanne interrupted, "You'll have plenty of time for bickering once we're out of the airport."

They certainly had. Bickering was the foundation of their relationship after all, even if it was all in good fun. Zoe had even seamlessly resumed their previous bickering after waking Mio up, because of course she fell asleep in the car on the way to Zoe's parents house ON Zoe's shoulder. Honestly what was Mio's life if not a collection of embarrassing moments that make her want to walk off a cliff?

Zoe, much to her credit, mentioned nothing about the patch of drool on her t shirt, simply jumping straight back into bullying her about her reaction to the baby dragons (which was justified). The mood in the car was more solemn, which Mio later found out was because Zoe was recounting their misadventure with Rader while she was asleep, but they easily brought it right back up, slapping each other's hands until they couldn't anymore from laughter.

Zoe's house (not the one they saw in the simulation - but still a nice house located near the Peak District) wasn't massive, but had enough space for Mio to have her own room. Sure it wasn't decorated like Zoe's childhood bedroom was, being designed for any guest who might ever stay, but the bed was comfy and there was space for her clothes and a desk for writing and what else could she need? It was just strange being that far away from Zoe, after a whole day in each others brains and 6 months hearing each other sleep through paper thin walls. But what was weirder was hearing two voices downstairs, almost identical to that centipede, and having to remind herself that they are real legit humans.

The first few days were weird. The silence surrounding the house was eerie, the walls so thick Mio couldn't hear anyone unless they were being really loud or on the same level. The bed was both too big and too soft - she couldn't feel the springs like she could on her own mattress, and it smelled too clean. She awoke to birds chirping instead of engine rumbles, and the nights were so much darker than the city.

Zoe seemed utterly refreshed - eyes brighter and smile easier than Mio had ever seen. She often found herself wondering if her dad would have fared better here, in the clean air and peace, but Zoe would quickly drag her out of her thoughts with some kind of mischief. A waterfall walk, or a hike for a picnic. At some point they even climbed a large hill, Mio complaining the whole way but admittedly breathtaken once they reached the top (literally and figuratively). It almost made up for her passing out halfway down and having to eat an emergency banana to feel more alive again.

After a week or so, Mio also got used to it. She saw the stars (prettier than she thought, though she wouldn't admit it to Zoe), watched squirrels dash around in the front garden and eat peanuts from her palm, and even went for a swim in the lake nearby with Zoe. Charlie and Leanne would accompany them, and sometimes Zoe's nieces and nephews, running around and squealing underfoot.

But nothing is ever truly perfect.

Mio knew that perfectly well - but slamming up from her sheets, struggling to breathe and struggling to discern reality from illusion, she wasn't exactly thinking straight. A strangled scream tore itself from her throat without her even knowing, sweat slicked hands clawing at her throat.

Before she could even blink the door slammed open, Zoe tumbling into the room with none of her usual grace. Her hair was a mess, knotted and tangled, and her pajamas sat skewiff on her body. She looked wildly around the room, as if scanning for threats, before she dashed to Mio's side, hands cradling her face tentatively.

"I can't breathe!" Mio eventually choked out, "I don't - Rader-"

"Rotting in jail, waiting for his trial" Zoe's voice cracked a little, her throat clearly dry from sleep, but she still sounded as assertive as ever. One hand slipped down to her neck, her thumb stroking in rhythmic motions. "You can breathe. Just follow me. In and out."

It took a minute or so before Mio's wheezing faded to more stable rhythms, the motion of Zoe's thumb against her throat enough to follow. She slumped forward, forehead resting on Zoe's shoulder.

"Did I wake you?" She asked, her voice hoarse. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Zoe shook her head, "I wouldn't want you to go through that alone."

"I've done it before."

"I know."

They stayed like that for a while, Mio's head on Zoe's shoulder while Zoe's hand carded through her hair. It was a familiar pose - on both sides. Nightmares weren't rare in their apartment, unfortunately.

A tentative knock came at the door, before it gently creaked open. Leanne quietly walked in, two steaming mugs in her hand that she placed on the bedside. She crouched by the bed, wincing slightly but looking at them in concern.

"You don't have to explain," she offered gently, "I just want to check you're ok."

Mio nodded, too tired to speak, and Leanne smiled. One hand reached out, wiping the dampness on her cheeks before resting on her forehead. Pursing her lips at what must be some warmth, Leanne opened the window, letting the cool night air in.

"Let me know if you need anything," she whispered, leaning her forehead against Zoe's for a moment before she appeared to head downstairs.

"Did I wake everyone?" Mio's voice was barely audible.

"It's not your fault," Zoe said firmly, grabbing one of the mugs, "Now drink up, buttercup. It'll make you feel better."

It did. The tea was warm, soothing her sore throat like a balm, and settling warm in her stomach. She stayed pressed to Zoe the whole time, who never let her go.

"I don't think I want to be alone right now." She whispered after draining the cup. Zoe didn't answer, simply shuffling down the bed and clumsily pulling the covers over them both.

"You don't have to -"

"Shut up." Zoe sighed, readjusting them so they were laying comfortably. They were facing each other, one of Zoe's hands pushing Mio's head into her shoulder and the other wrapped around her waist. Mio slipped her own arms around Zoe too, holding her loosely. "I've got you, Mio. Sleep well."

They fell asleep like that, tangled up in each other like they were afraid to lose them. And Mio woke up in a similar way, her head on Zoe's chest and body practically draped over hers. They were warm, comfy, the weight of the covers almost blissfully crushing. Even the thought of moving from the bed, from Zoe, felt like it could be world ending. So she stayed put, dozing until Zoe blinked herself into existence.

"Morning, Mio." She yawned, Mio grunting in return. "You ok?"

" 'm fine." Mio mumbled, "Warm."

"You talk in your sleep."

"..." Mio sat up, bleary-eyed. "Do I?"

"I'm fairly sure you ordered a McDonalds breakfast from me before I dropped off."

"Oh." She was dumbfounded. "Where is it then?"

"Oh I'm sorry, just let me pull one out of my ass for you." Zoe laughed, tugging her back down and ruffling her hair fiercely.

"Hey! Get off!"

"Nope."

Mio screeched as one hand wriggled it's way under her top, squeezing her sides with brutal efficiency. "OK! OK! Stop!"

"I win." Zoe grinned, climbing out of bed and leaving Mio there to catch her breath. "Get dressed, Giggleguts. Breakfast won't be long."

"I still think your parents are a centipede sometimes." She admitted on a whim.

"... Is that why you sometimes look surprised when you see them?"

"..." Mio looked away, folding her arms. "...Maybe."

Zoe's laugh sounded like it tore out of her body, leaving her breathless. Mio frowned, ready to defend herself, but when the first snorts started she couldn't help but shake her own head with a grin.

"Glad you're having fun." She sighed.

"I'm gonna tell them," Zoe wheezed, lunging for the stairs.

"NO! DON'T YOU DARE!"

[natto-axolotl]

ok posting about my nezha 2 post-postcanon au in a way that's legible now. finally. preface this started out as liyinbao shitposting and got a little serious after 6k words.

The Premise (or: random bits and bobs that happen in the version of NZ3 that lives in the brains of my friends and I):

nezha 3 is the war of the investiture With Certain Elements Tweaked (nezha and co. are secret third faction alongside the chan sect/king wu of zhou and the jie sect/king zhou of shang)

the curse wuliang puts on SGB lets him remotely puppet him, much to the dismay and displeasure of ao bing and co. the inevitable climactic fight ends up with ao bing taking a hit to a horn, which breaks it.

SGB dies and goes to heaven by sealing the eye of the northern sea. he gets better once the investiture invests him! congrats on the promotion!

he deals wonderfully with getting everything he ever wanted at the cost of everything he was doing it for by going AWOL for like 3 years

a method to un-pill lady yin is found, but Not Without Consequence; though her body and mind are restored, the physical consequences of her life has not been. her 20something year old body now has the muscle memory and tone of a newborn. that's not. not great.

thus actual premise: everyone ends up spending most of their time around each other at the rebuilt chentang pass because How Do You Unpack All That. No Seriously Who Can You Even Talk To About All This.

Actual Character Things

nezha: newly minted third lotus prince, marshal of the central altar, boy-prince protector god of chentang pass but everyone is super chill with him and treats him like he's just the li's super powerful and helpful son. doesn't quite know how to live and be with people that aren't scared of him or hold an instinctual aversion towards who he is by birth. every small business owner loves him.

ao bing: newly minted huagai xing. not dead. broke a horn, adjusting to that still. also not having to fear for his life or kneel to unfairness to gain approval for the first time in his life. doesn't quite know what to do now that he doesn't have the pressure of being the spirit pearl and redeeming all of dragonkind by becoming an immortal now. shoots the shit with nezha 4/7 days. has developed a hobby of trying out as many fruits as he can.

lady yin: newly returned to her physical form. can join ao bing, nezha and sgb (in this au) in the "I lost my corporeal form, basically died and came back to life good enough in all the wrong ways and all I got was this shitty ru" club. has to use a cane if she's out and about for too long. doesn't quite know how to go back to her life as nexha's mom and a fellow general of chentang pass— if she can even go back to that. unstoppable charisma.

li jing: having a frankly insane time between his son now being a god and his wife coming back from being pilled. he's trying his best man. also holds unstoppable charisma, only negated by One Leopard Jing's Complete Unwillingness To Open Up.

shen gongbao: newly minted water splitting general of the east sea. having a great time with his new status and hasn't been in the middle of nowhere grappling with how quickly and cruelly he was given everything he wanted. doesn't quite know how to forgive himself for everything he did to get here, especially since it might not have even mattered. unknowingly being wooed by chentang guan's hottest open marriage.

ao guang and tyzr I haven't thought about much but both are living their best lives (tyzr is now one of the golden immortals, ao guang does not have to live under as much stress and fear for his people as he used to) and also wondering where the fuck sgb is. both are giving him space for entirely wrong reasons.

shen zhengdao and shen xiaobao are important but. that's for later hehe!

[cave-monkey]

After watching Episode 12 I really need Mr. "It's the cast of the Beijing Opera! >:D" and "I use theater to playact my insecurities and get really into stage direction and critiquing the roles" to get locked in a room together with Mr. "I use literary tropes and character roles to define and explain both myself and the world and you will pry this out of my cold, undead hands" and "writes and puts on an entire play to really stick it to a kid and then gets upset when he doesn't understand it" with nothing but a script, a knife, and the question, "But what was the playwright's vision for the supporting male lead?"

[ganondoodle]

while i am procrastinating drawing in favor of staring blankly at the wall listening to my own tinnitus and heartbeat for some ungodly reason, i have decided to have the reworked sonau not include the barbarian set in any way (which has been freezing my progress of rewriting them to completion) bc it just doesnt fit them at all and explain it by implying that its a fake armor set with made up lore as essentially a piece of surviving propaganda made by the shiekah to make it seem more justified what they did to them-

(in my rewrite the sonau were an underground dwelling monkey-frog like creature feeding on nectar the nature of which made them turn into crystals of luminous stone upon death- which is also the energy source for the shiekah tech, additionally the sonau here were protecting ancient pieces of lost history of the past they were sure would lead to disaster if anyone of the surface would find them, and with believing the cycle of hyrules destructions is man made and self perpetuated at the center of their belief system it posed a danger to hyrules reputation- thus making them a target that ends in a double win for hyrule if eliminated)

-which would neatly also lead to perhaps a bit of tension with the existing shiekah, most of which of course dont know anything about any of it, but perhaps with impa being the only one to safeguard the only information left about it as a means of both preservation and to have it never be revealed :)

[ame-to-ame]

My friends are so nice to me??? I love them???

[quietlyblooms]

more tired rambling about chiyo in veilguard -- there's minor spoilers, mainly concerning the veil jumper origin. and major brainrot uvu lots of that uvu

i'm soooo sleepy, but i just keep thinking of the interaction between veil jumper rook and strife when the party's in arlathan at the beginning of the game, and it makes me!!! aaahhh!!! bc i said before that chiyo's pointed in the direction of the veil jumpers by her grandmother, and!! what if strife is the old friend she had!! what if there's a bit of a mentor/fatherly dynamic with chiyo, and his disapproval and anger are ultimately what makes it easy for chiyo to leave with varric and harding!!

there's clearly still tension between rook and strife bc rook didn't listen to him and made their own call regarding the " invaluable map " and their fellow veil jumpers. placing chiyo in rook's role, she would definitely feel justified in her actions -- no way she's going to take a chance with innocent lives, even if that map was important. its value doesn't outweigh someone's life. being reprimanded and resented for prioritizing lives over an artifact, especially by someone she respected and cared for, would definitely push her away.

this situation also makes me think of a line you can tell solas!! i can't possibly remember the exact dialogue rn, but it's something to the effect of, " i don't care what they call me as long as they're safe in the end, " implying that there's a lot you would do to keep people safe. and considering the veil jumper background, i feel like that suits chiyo really well in this scenario. she gave up valuable knowledge and who knows what else to save her peers and friends. she'd do it again, and there's more she'd be willing to give up. what exactly that might be moving forward with the story, i'm not sure!! but boy i'm excited to see!!

[syncrovoid-presents]

YOU CAN HIT A TAG LIMIT??? My ramblings in the tags have been conquered and squashed by the 30 tag limit. How silly!

[brightdeadthing]

.

[reignpage]

❀ In which Nanami's wife has baby brain

This pregnancy hasn’t been the easiest. Of course, it hasn’t been terrible, how can it when your husband is Nanami Kento and he’s made it his life’s mission to ease all your aches, worries and fears?

But now that you’re in your third trimester, it’s like everything’s worsened tenfold — your stomach is heavier, your breasts are super sensitive and not in the sexy way anymore, the balls of your feet feel like they’re on fire, and you swear, even though your husband denies it, your hair’s thinner and you somewhat resemble the thing from Lord of the Rings. 

Worst of all though?

Your thought process is much slower these days. It’s so embarrassing. You stutter more, you trail off, get words and phrases mixed up, you can’t follow conversations and it’s like instructions go in one ear and out the other immediately. 

Thankfully you don’t actually interact with many people now that your baby insists on making you anti-social and you spend most of your time at home, in the garden, or just taking long walks which end up at a bakery or the ice cream shop. However, when your husband is a bibliophilic, watch-the news, successful business man, it’s hard not to feel the brunt of your smoother-than-normal brain.

“Hi, sweetheart, are you alright?” 

Startled, you jolt. You’re in the living room, the overhead light on. Kento stands by the doorway, surveying the room for, what you can only assume to be, a threat. He’s wearing his pyjama bottoms, with his glasses off and hair messy whereas you’re wearing a button-up shirt and tie, ready for the day ahead. “I’m getting dressed for work…why aren’t you?”

Nodding like he thought as much, he pads over to you. Soothing hands grip your hips, pulling you into a nice, warm hug. You melt into him. 

“It’s the middle of the night, darling,” he whispers against the top of your head. “And you don’t work anymore, remember? You’re wearing my shirt and my tie too, though I must admit, they look rather good on you so you can keep them, if you’d like.”

Blink. 

Blink.

“Oh God, it’s a Saturday too, isn’t it?”

Kento kisses your forehead. “Yes, love. But it’s okay — calendars can be so confusing these days. Let’s get you back into your pyjamas and into bed, alright? It’s late and you need your sleep.”

“Sorry for waking you, Ken.”

Gaze softening impossibly more, he reassures you, “Don’t be, honey. In fact, you didn’t wake me at all; how did you manage to climb out of bed without me noticing? Has the baby given my darling wife special ninja powers, hmm?”

“No, just cellulite,” you grouch. He laughs and then stops. 

A strange look must have passed in your eyes because then his brows are furrowing, hand rubbing your stomach.

“Is something wrong, sweetheart? You look like you want something. Pickles with melted strawberry ice cream again maybe? We ran out of ice cream but I can get some more.”

Burying your face in between his pecs, your words come out muffled and a little sheepish. “I am hungry but not for pickles. Just the word alone makes me want to throw up now. I want a veggie burger.”

“A veggie burger?”

“Yeah. I think I want to go vegetarian. No, vegan. Go big or go home, right?” 

That’s how you find yourself in the kitchen, sat on a stool (he forbids you from sitting on top of the counter now because you perched at such a height sends his blood pressure rocketing, apparently), watching him make something for the first time and doing it well, by the looks of it. 

Kento's your rock.

He’s been incredibly patient with you throughout it all — there have been many times where you were probably the most frustrating person to talk to, blowing a fuse over something as little as what the colour of the baby’s room should be or whether potatoes are healthier than tomatoes. He never raises his voice, never argues only attempts to have an educational conversation, and apologises first even when he wasn’t in the wrong at all. 

To your credit, however, you’ve made sure to reward him daily. Often, multiple times a day, and he never fails to thank you.

Soon, your husband watches you stuff your face with little regard for the sauces spreading all over your chin. A comfortable quiet thrum fills the air and despite how late it is, Kento is wide awake and rubbing your thigh, your belly, and your hair; he just can’t keep his hands off you.

He’s got something pulled up on his phone and when you tap a finger on it questioningly, he answers, “Just searching up what a vegan lifestyle entails, darling. We should do it right, no?”

Laughing, you give him a sloppy, ketchup soaked kiss. He returns it right back. “Ken, what on earth are you talking about? Why would we ever go vegan? You can’t have sushi when you’re vegan and that’s the first thing I’m eating when our baby’s out of my body, silly.”

Giving you a gentle, but tired, smile, he nods, somewhat grateful it seems and turns his phone off.

“Alright, you’ll have all the non-vegan sushi your heart desires, love. I’m sorry for even suggesting it.” He stifles his laugh and then stands up. “Are you done with your plate? Okay, let’s get you all bundled up in bed.”

You open your mouth to argue and he puts on his stern face.

“Uh uh, no arguments please, sweetheart. It’s late and you get grumpy when you don’t get enough sleep. Go easy on your poor husband, won’t you? He can’t stand when his darling wife gets all upset with him.”

Sneaky bastard's learnt that you're weak when he pouts and uses the baby voice against you. Grumbling about how unfair it is for him to manipulate a pregnant woman with his charms, he leads you back into bed with a hand on your back.

As soon as your head hits the pillows, you’re knocked out cold, whispering a, 'Good afternoon,' to your husband before you're snoring, prancing around in dream land.

Quietly, he kisses your forehead once more and corrects you, “Good night, my love. And good night, baby. Papa will see you soon.”

[chuluoyi]

✎ baby to the rescue

- gojo satoru x reader

in which gojo recruits your baby son to “save” you from a credit card salesman

genre: immense fluff !! baby gojo and dad!gojo shenanigans~

note: based on this and this reel. with this i hereby declare that anything past chapter 235 is null and void HAHA anyway, i truly want to post remarried empress au by this week but since 261 leaks hurt me so much, i need more fluff so have to postpone it to next week :') tagging @karikari19hikariiii <3

a part of gojo's love entries

general masterlist

Your husband Gojo Satoru... is handsome as hell, which means your baby son is also undeniably good-looking.

"Why do you pout at me?" Satoru poked his squirming baby's cheek while pursing his lips too. "C'mon, smile! That auntie is smiling at you!"

Everyone who passed by them in Shinjuku shopping district turned heads to admire him and his pumpkin just a little longer, and Satoru visibly enjoyed the attention. He smiled back at them, occasionally winking even.

If only they knew how pretty his wife was too...

Wait, no! On second thought, if they know how hot you are, there will be problems!

You had left him to go to the nearest pharmacy to restock some things, while Satoru decided to entertain his baby in the toy section. He basked in the starry-eyed looks people were giving him... until he heard some strange sounds and turned to his baby boy—

—who was chewing the beak of a duck toy with all his might. Satoru was mortified.

"—! Let that go! Your mama will beat me if she sees you eating this!"

Your baby paid him no mind though, desperately pushing the duck into his mouth. Satoru sat him on one of the empty racks and began the tug of war—

"Let go!" he reprimanded. "You're so naughty, gods—!"

Some people were now openly giggling at both of them. His son tried to resist by rolling, and Satoru clicked his tongue. He then yanked the toy away until his baby finally let it go, sniffling sadly that his papa wouldn't let him have the duck.

"Oh, you..." he picked him up again and consoled the pumpkin. "You can't do that, you hear? First, it's not clean. Second, mama will grow two heads to chew you and me both, understand?"

No, your son totally didn't understand a thing. Satoru sighed, seeing his little blue eyes welling up with tears. He ruffled his head and pulled him close. "There, there... I'll get you ice cream, okay? Now let's go."

Satoru was determined to turn his son back into a smiling, happy baby. But just as he was about to head towards the ice cream parlor, he encountered the most unbelievable sight—

"Miss! I guarantee you'll love this credit card features!"

You. That was clearly you, and a salesman (or a bozo, in Satoru's eyes) was trying to bother you.

You raised an eyebrow. "Uh, no— thank you—"

Yet the bozo was still persistent, like the pesky fly he was. "You can use it to pay for your monthly beauty treatments! Someone as pretty as you..." He eyed you from head to toe, blinking suggestively. "Oh my! Your skin is flawless! You have to maintain it this way! I can also give you recommendations for—"

You were wearing a flare dress that made you look so young and petite, and obviously, Satoru too was lusting after you. And true, your skin was smooth like a soft serve of mochi, but still!

You are meant for him and his eyes only! Oho, this bozo would get heavenly punishment.

He had to get to you somehow, but this was public space and if he cooked up some sort of shenanigan, you would put him in sex ban. I can't have that! so Satoru wracked his brain to think of another way...

Once again, his gaze fell on his now calm baby, who was also looking at his mama over there with utter curiosity. And an idea immediately popped up in his mind.

"Hey, kiddo, look at that, a bad man is trying to take your mama," Satoru nudged him as if trying to egg him on. "We can't let that happen. Will you help me to save her, hmm?"

"Mama..." your baby looked back at him so innocently before smiling. "Mamaaa!"

"Good boy." Gods, his baby was so adorable, he almost felt bad for doing this but...

Swallowing his guilt, thinking he would make it up later, he pinched his son's butt a little too firmly—

"WAAAA!" and suddenly, the little boy burst into tears, and even Satoru was surprised by the sheer volume of his wail.

The sudden inconsolable sound of your baby sent you scrambling in panic, your eyes wildly searching for him, completely disregarding the credit card man. "My baby!"

"Eh?" the credit card man was visibly surprised. "Oh... so, you're married...?"

You immediately made your way towards Satoru and snatched your baby from him, hugging him tightly. "Oh, there, there... What happened to you?" you shot your husband a distaste look as your son kept wailing. "Satoru, why is he crying?"

He nonchalantly shrugged. "Maybe missing his mama? Dunno~"

By now, you had completely forgotten the credit card bozo, but he still looked at the three of you in mild surprise. Satoru took this chance to approach him and whisper in his ear:

"You see, my wife doesn't need your credit card," he whistled. "My cards or lumpsum money will do more than enough."

After seeing how pale the bozo looked, Satoru chuckled darkly... before leading you and your son away from the crowd, with one arm possessively around your waist.

Epilogue

"I'm sorry— I'm sorry, okay!?"

Satoru looked down at his son in utter hopelessness, as the little boy refused to be held by him, looking at him with teary, resentful eyes, and backing away from him in his playpen.

Can babies hold a grudge? Satoru didn't know, but his son definitely was not happy with him, and he couldn't think of any other explanation other than his sin against him back this afternoon.

"I've bought you mochi ice cream!" he opened his palm to reveal the treat. "Don't you want some? Papa will give you some, yeah?"

Baby looked skeptical now, and at that moment, he resembled you so much—accusing eyes, pursed lips, exactly like the expression you would pull when you were unsure of what Satoru might do next. He almost chuckled at the resemblance, feeling giddy.

"C'mon, forgive me, yeah?" he patted his son's little beanie and offered his hand for him to take, eyes crinkling in fondness. "Now, here comes your treat, come closer?"

Your baby crawled closer, seemingly accepting him, and Satoru was all smiles, until—

Whack!

It happened in a flash. He could have avoided it, but he was too taken aback. The pain exploded in his jaw, so intense that he grunted loudly.

"What the—?! You... you—! You kicked me— in the face!"

[sceletaflores]

SINK IN ME WITH YOUR DOG TEETH!

ೃ⁀➷ pair: logan howlett x fem!reader

ೃ⁀➷ wc: 7.0k

ೃ⁀➷ contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, swearing, established relationship, feral nasty unhinged logan yes god, logan only slightly losing his humanity but like it’s a lot less sad than it sounds, maybe some toxic relationship dynamics but who cares it’s porn, predator/prey dynamics, p in v, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, HEAVY scent kink (like don’t make me say it…but beware of some very subtle armpit stuff), pain kink, biting is just another form of sexual penetration guys, blood, so much come and come talk, creampie, squirting, this is just gross, porn w/o plot, no use of y/n.

ೃ⁀➷ nat's note: hi…hi y’all…so here’s the winner of the poll and i need everyone to just hear me out for a second! walk with me! this is probably the most unhinged thing i’ve ever written, like omg those tags. this upsetting depravity was inspired by this post by @stupidfuckingwindow and this post by @monimccoythings which both altered the chemical balances of my brain so fiercely i blacked out for a while and when i came to this was in front of me. merry christmas and happy holidays! take this not at all christmas themed fic as my present to you my precious angels. kisses!

dividers by lovely @saradika-graphics!

you notice a strange shift in logan...

There’s something off with Logan.

The changes were subtle, but you’ve been with him long enough now to pick up on them. And while he's always had a raw, untamed edge to him, a sort of wildness simmering just beneath the surface, this feels different.

It started with the way he would go quiet for longer than usual, like his mind was too far away for you to reach—lost to somewhere distant.

Logan has always been quiet, but this was a different kind of silence. Conversations that used to flow with ease now hang in the air, unfinished. All of his responses reduced to nothing but low grunts and clipped words.

And he was more territorial over you, so much more.

His hand has started to linger at the small of your back or the curve of your waist for a lot longer when you’re in public, his strong grip firm enough to remind you—and anyone nearby—that you’re his.

He would fume at even the slightest hint of someone else's interest in you, a low warning growl escaping his throat to anyone who spared you a second glance.

It wasn’t just the physical closeness, though. It was also in the way Logan has started to watch you—his sharp gaze a never ending constant. An all imposing, heavily looming shadow.

There were even times late at night when you thought he was asleep, that you’d find him staring at you in the dark.

Not the usual, protective gaze he’d have when he thought you were vulnerable, but something deeper, more intense. His breathing would be slow, measured, but there was this energy, this tension that hummed between the two of you.

The nights he did manage to sleep, he’d hold you close to him, his grip iron-tight, his face buried in your hair. If you tried to shift away, even for a second, he’d stir, his arms pulling you back with a quiet, possessive growl that sent a shiver down your spine.

There were bite marks on your neck when you'd wake up, small enough to pass off as nothing—at least, that’s what you tried to tell yourself, but each one felt like a brand. They were deeper, more deliberate.

Then there was the scent—his scent.

You swear it’s gotten stronger, more potent. It clings to you like a second skin, lingering in your clothes, your sheets, even your hair. An intoxicating blend of leather and pine and musk that makes your head spin.

Each time you left the house without him, he’d pin you to the mattress and rub himself all over you before begrudgingly let you walk out the door. His hands or his face running along the delicate skin of your neck, of your stomach, of your wrists.

Everywhere.

He was claiming you in ways—new ways—that left you both exhilarated and confused.

There were other things too, smaller but no less odd things that were starting to add up.

More and more of your clothes have slowly started to go missing over the past few weeks. Each morning when you open any of your dresser drawers, it seems like there are less and less filling them.

Shirts, shorts, socks, bras, panties. All things you’ve found shoved under his side of the mattress or tucked under his pillow. The most memorable hiding place was the front pocket of his leather jacket, your favorite pair of panties haphazardly stuffed inside.

You haven’t said anything about it yet, unsure if you should be concerned or amused.

It isn’t like he’s truly hurting anyone.

He’s just acting…strange.

A part of you can’t help but be drawn to it—the new intensity, the new rawness. There was something undeniably magnetic about the way he clings to you, like you're his anchor in a world constantly shifting beneath his feet.

You’ve seen Logan at his worst—bloody, broken, and lost. But this? It’s never been like this before.

Whatever it is, it has its claws in him deep, and by extension, you.

You just got home from a run, barely walking through the door and kicking your shoes off when a call of your name rings out from the bedroom.

Logan’s tone stops you in your tracks—low and rough, like gravel crunching underfoot.

Your reaction is nearly instant, breath hitching in your chest, heart skipping a beat as a warmth that has nothing to do with the temperature outside starts to pulse through you steadily.

It’s like you’ve become reprogrammed to respond to him this way, your body reacting before your mind can even catch up as his deep, familiar voice rolls over the sweaty expanse of your skin.

You drop your bag at your feet and slowly make your way to the bedroom, a bead of sweat trailing down your temple as you push the door open.

All the curtains are closed, the only light in the room a yellow glow that shines from your bedside lamp. 

Logan is sitting on the edge of the bed, leaning back on his palms, but there’s nothing casual about his posture.

His gaze is locked on you, dark and intense, tracking every step you take, like a lion stalking a gazelle as it drinks from a watering hole.

“Didn’t tell me where you were going.” His eyes gleam as the lamp’s rays reflect off of them, his pupils dilated so he can see you better in the darkness that shrouds your room.

You swallow hard, trying to be as nonchalant as you can as your feet carry you to your dresser. “I went for a run,” you reply, your voice a little too steady, a little too casual.

You tug open the top drawer, rifling around for a clean shirt with a little more focus than necessary to distract yourself from the way his eyes burn a hole into your back.

“You didn’t tell me,” Logan repeats, his voice a low, dangerous rumble that sends a shiver down your spine. “You know I don’t like it when I don’t know where my girl is.”

There’s a sharp edge to his words, but it’s not anger—it’s something far more primal.

The energy in the room crackles like a storm about to break, and you feel it in your bones, in the way your skin prickles under his gaze.

"I was only gone for an hour," you say, your voice measured, careful. "You were still asleep when I left, I didn’t want to wake you." 

You chance a glance over your shoulder, and the sight of him steals the air from your lungs.

Logan hasn’t moved an inch from his perch on the edge of the bed, but the sheer force of his presence keeps you rooted in place, heart hammering in your chest.

“Hmm, that’s real sweet, baby,” he drawls, sitting up straighter now, leaning forward.

The motion makes him seem larger somehow, shoulders broad and imposing in the dim light. His tongue drags slowly across his bottom lip, and the way his gaze rakes over you feels like a physical touch, leaving a trail of heat in its wake.

Your fingers still in the drawer, fabric slipping from your grasp as your pulse pounds in your ears. You can’t bring yourself to look away from him, caught in the snare of his sharp, predatory focus.

You turn slowly, arms falling to hang limply at your sides. "I wasn't gone long."

Logan tilts his head, a low, amused sound rumbling in his chest as he rises to his feet with a fluid, deliberate ease that makes your stomach flip.

“Didn’t feel that way to me, darlin’.” His voice is a deep, gravelly purr. It sends a shiver down your spine. “Felt like forever.”

His eyes never leave yours as he crosses the room, the green completely swallowed by the dark black of his pupils as they seep into the color like oil spilling out over the surface of a lake.

You’ve never seen him like this before, so hungry.

"Logan," you say slowly, back pressed tightly against your dresser. "You're really starting to freak me out." 

Logan hums idly, head cocked to the side as he watches you. "I can hear your heartbeat." 

His tone is calmer now, but there’s still a dangerous edge to it, like a knife pressed just lightly enough against the skin not to break it.

Your pulse races, heat simmering in your stomach despite the slight edge of fear clawing its way through your chest.

He stops in front of you, so close that his scent invades your senses strong enough to make your knees feel like they’re about to buckle beneath you.

“There’s nothin’ to be scared of baby,” he mutters quietly, thick arms coming up to cage you against the dresser. 

Your hold on the wood tightens, your knuckles turning white with the strength of your grip.

It’s almost chemical, the way you can feel your body start to give in to him. The thought fills you with as much arousal as it does unease, a heady combination that churns in your stomach.

You muster up enough will to breathlessly nod in agreement, a quiet submission.

Logan’s lips quirk into the faintest smirk, his heavy gaze dipping to the curve of your neck, lingering on the rapid flutter of your pulse. “That’s my good girl.”

Any words you might say get caught in your throat as you stare up at Logan, wide eyed and steadily leaking wetness into the gusset of your panties. 

His nostrils flare, and a knowing sound rumbles from somewhere dark and low in his chest as his eyes flutter shut on a deep inhale.

Your thighs clench together instinctively, the overwhelming need to be filled wracking through your body like thunder.

When Logan opens his eyes again, there’s no trace of anything but pure animal need. The muscles in his jaw working furiously under his skin in time with the strain of his forearms still caging you in place.

“Yeah…” he trails off slowly, tone both condescending and soothing all at once. “I know you’re not all that scared, honey.”

He leans in, tearing a small whimper from your throat at the way his beard scrapes against your cheek as he crowds you.

His breath fans over the shell of your ear, hot and enticing as they brush against your skin when he speaks again. “I can smell how fuckin’ wet you are.”

Logan’s words send a sharp jolt through you, a broken moan falling from your parted lips as your cheeks heat up so fiercely it’s as if you’ve been slapped.

Your body moves without thinking, pressing up into his hard, unyielding frame like you can’t help it—and maybe you can’t.

“L–Logan…” Your voice trembles, a weak thing that dissolves in your throat as he noses along the skin of your neck.

His hands come down to rest on your waist, palms rough and possessive and warm and a perfect fit where they lay over your curves, anchoring you in place.

“Shhh.” His lips trail down your jaw, leaving wet kisses in their wake. “You don’t gotta say a thing, princess. I know what you need.”

Logan’s hands slip lower, cupping the backs of your thighs with ease before hoisting you onto the dresser like you weigh nothing. The sharp edge of the wood digs into your legs, but you can’t find it in yourself to care about the discomfort.

Your hands go to his shoulders without much of a second thought, nails digging into corded muscle as you try to keep your balance. 

Logan’s hands stay on your thighs, his grip strong enough for you to feel the power behind them without hurting you.

He noses along your sweaty skin like a hot-tempered hound, desperately inhaling greedy lungfuls of your scent wherever he can get it.

Behind your ear, in the crook of your neck, along your collarbone, the exposed swell of your breasts, dangerously close to your underarm.

He groans against your shoulder, a full body shiver jolting his frame. “Smell so fuckin’ good darlin’, drives me goddamn crazy.”

You can’t form a coherent thought, let alone a response. His mouth finally finds yours, claiming you with a ferocity that steals your breath.

Logan's tongue slides against yours, a messy, desperate kiss that has you moaning into his mouth, your fingers tangling in his hair to pull him closer.

It’s filthy, fueled by nothing but raw need and desperation. Spit drips from your chin to trail down the length of your throat until it gathers in the valley of your breasts. Whether it’s his or yours, it doesn’t matter.

It’s a perfect mix of the both of you, lewd and messy in the way it claims your skin.

Logan breaks the kiss with a low moan, his chest heaving the same as yours as you both inhale harsh lungfuls of air.

His lips are red and raw, swollen in a way that your own must mirror. A string of saliva keeps you connected, drooping thinner and thinner in the space between you until it breaks under the weight of gravity.

Logan doesn’t give you long to catch your breath. His lips trail down your jaw and latch onto the sensitive spot just below your ear, teeth scraping against skin before he sucks hard enough to leave a mark. 

Your head falls back against the wall as his mouth moves lower, dragging the strap of your sports bra down with his teeth.

The way he’s acting—like a man crazed, like he needs you more than he needs air—has you dizzy with need. But there's a part of you that’s still trying to hold onto some semblance of control, to hold onto something familiar in the chaos.

It’s only then that you realize this may be a bad idea. 

Whatever this is, is clearly an accumulation of all the things you’ve noticed over the last couple of weeks.

Maybe indulging Logan will only make things worse, like giving in to him when he’s in such a state could be the tipping point to a much deeper and all consuming issue buried somewhere inside of him.

It can’t possibly be healthy for him to act like this, and it can’t be healthy for you to bask in it as much as you are.

“W–wait.” Your thighs slip shut, hands coming up to push at Logan’s shoulders weakly.

There’s no real force behind your ministrations and you keep your neck bared to him all the while, but he stops anyway, rearing back with a displeased noise. 

His face hovers inches from yours, and for a moment, you swear he looks almost pained—his brows furrowing, jaw tightening as though reigning himself in is a Herculean effort.

His hands remain on your thighs, trembling slightly as he keeps himself rooted in place, clearly fighting every instinct roaring through him to just take what he wants.

“You don’t want me to stop, sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice low and gravelly, a stark contrast to the restraint in his expression. His thumbs stroke idly against your skin, his touch soothing even as his words drip with pure, feral confidence. “I can smell the way your pussy’s achin’ for it. I can feel it. You’re shakin’ for me.”

You are—your whole body feels like it’s on the verge of unraveling under his touch, your resolve crumbling faster than you’d like to admit.

Everything you were going to say gets clogged in your brain on the way out, leaving you silent as you hold his gaze.

You don’t even have the capability to feel embarrassed at the way you blanch, lost in the way his scent attacks your senses, in the rough drag of his palms over your bare thighs, in the way your lips still tingle from his kiss.

Logan sighs, long and all suffering as his hands come to rest on both of your shut knees. The impatient raise of his brow paired with the dissatisfied curl of his lips is enough to shake you to the core.

“Now, you gonna show it to me?” His fingers drum along your knee, his patience thinning. “Or am I gonna have to make you.”

And it may sound like one, but you know it’s not a question. 

It’s a choice.

Your mind races, hands clenching and unclenching on Logan’s shoulders as you weigh your options. His own hands squeeze your knees, just hard enough to let you feel it in your bones.

You spread your legs.

Logan doesn’t waste a second, dropping to his knees in front of you with a satisfied rumble and a predatory gleam in his eyes. His hands grip your thighs, pushing them even wider. Wide enough to make you feel exposed, vulnerable in the best way. 

Your head dips, chin falling to your chest as you watch the way Logan takes up the space between your legs. Your shorts are soaked, fabric so drenched that it’s melded to the shape of your cunt, your puffy folds on display for his greedy eyes.

“Fuck,” Logan breathes, his voice cracking like a whip in the quiet room. His hands find your waistband, and the dull sound of fabric ripping rings out.

The sturdy cotton tears like tissue paper in his hands, the scraps of your shorts falling carelessly to the floor, leaving you in nothing but the light blue panties you slipped on before your run. 

The way he gazes at the space between your thighs is feral, unrestrained, like he’s a man starving for his next meal—and you’re it.

“Look at that…” Logan mutters, almost to himself as he runs his knuckle along the wet cotton of your panties. His touch is featherlight, barely any pressure at all, but it’s enough.

Your breath hitches, a sharp intake of air at the teasing touch, and your hips instinctively cant forward, silently begging for more. 

Logan's eyes flick up to yours, a dark smirk curling his lips like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you—and how much you're already falling apart.

“Eager fuckin’ thing,” he drawls, voice rough with arousal. He leans forward, his hot breath ghosting over your soaked panties, sending a shiver racing down your spine. “You want me to give your pussy some kisses, baby?”

You open your mouth to respond, but the words never make it out. Logan’s lips press against the damp fabric, placing a kiss right over where your covered clit throbs with need.

Your head falls back to rest on the wall behind you, a shocked moan bursting from your lips.

“Logan.” His name is pulled from your mouth like a plea, but he doesn’t let up, the sharp edge of his teeth scraping over the sensitive bundle of nerves hidden beneath the soaked barrier of your underwear.

“Hmm?” He hums against you, the vibration sending shockwaves through your core. “Thought you wanted me to stop?”

The taunt is maddening, the rasp of his voice and the teasing flicks of his tongue combining to unravel you piece by piece. 

You shake your head furiously, thighs trembling where they rest on his broad shoulders. “N-no—don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.”

Logan chuckles darkly, his hands sliding up your thighs to hook his fingers into the thin waistband of your panties. 

“That’s more like it,” he taunts. With a single, sharp tug, the ruined fabric joins the scraps of your shorts on the floor.

Logan groans at the sight of your bare cunt, slick with your juices and flushed with arousal. His mouth waters, his tongue running along the sharp points of his canines in anticipation.

You’re already so ready for him.

“You smell so fuckin’ good,” he growls, leaning in to drag his nose along the slick seam of your folds. The deep inhale he takes is obscene, sending a ripple of anticipation through your entire body. “Know that you taste even better.”

Logan licks a broad stripe through your folds, groaning like the taste of you is enough to satisfy him completely. His hands grip your thighs tighter, keeping you spread and utterly at his mercy as he begins to work in earnest.

He alternates between laving the tip of his tongue over your clit and dipping down to fuck into you, his beard scraping along the skin of your thighs in a way that’s almost too much. Your head falls back, hitting the wall with a soft thud as your vision blurs.

“God, Logan.” You squirm on the vanity, but he holds you steady, growling low and deep into your core like your moaning only spurs him on.

“That’s it,” he mutters between licks, his words unmistakably smug. “Make those pretty little sounds for me, baby.”

Logan circles your clit with the flat of his tongue, alternating between firm, deliberate strokes and light, teasing flicks that leave you gasping for air.

You cry out, fingers tangling in his thick, unruly hair as he repeats the motions, your thighs starting to tremble on either side of his head.

Every time your hips buck against him, he growls, the vibrations of it sinking into your skin and amplifying the pleasure coursing through your veins.

“Stay still,” he orders, his voice muffled against your dripping core but no less commanding. His hands tighten on your thighs, holding you in place with an unrelenting grip. “You’re not in charge, sweetheart.”

You whimper, your whole body trembling as you fight the urge to grind against his face. But it’s impossible to stay still when he’s licking into you like a man possessed, his mouth working you over with an intensity that has your vision going hazy.

“I know, you're just so damn needy, aren’t you, baby?” He drawls , pulling back just enough to speak, his lips glistening with your arousal. “You love this, hmm? Lettin’ me take care of you?”

You can only nod, words failing you as his fingers replace his mouth, sliding through your spit soaked cunt.

“You’re so goddamn pretty down here.” Logan mutters, almost to himself, spreading your puffy, abused folds obscenely wide. 

He teases your entrance, fingertips dipping into your warm heat only to retract a second later. You whine, high and embarrassing as your hips twitch with want.

Logan watches your face closely, his expression equal parts smug and adoring as he finally sinks one thick finger inside you, curling it just right.

“Fuck,” you breathe, your head lolling back he adds a second finger, stretching you in a way that has your toes curling. He pumps them slowly at first, each deliberate thrust sending waves of pleasure radiating through your body.

“Takin’ me so well,” Logan murmurs, his thumb brushes over your clit, drawing tight circles that make your thighs tremble. “So tight and wet for me. You’re makin’ me crazy, darlin’.”

Your moans grow louder, unrestrained, as he picks up the pace, his fingers plunging into you with a rhythm that has your skin burning hotter and hotter.

Logan’s mouth returns to you with renewed fervor, tongue and lips working in perfect tandem as he drags you closer to the edge. 

He shakes his head back and forth like an animal, his nose rubbing up against your clit deliciously as buries his tongue as deep in your cunt as it’ll go. The coarse hair of his beard scratches the sensitive skin of your inner thighs red and raw.

You can’t think, can’t breathe, your entire world narrowing down to the feel of his mouth on you. 

“Logan—” Your voice cracks, your head falling back against the wall as the spring of pleasure inside you winds tighter and tighter, threatening to snap at any moment. “I’m—fuck—I’m so close—”

“Good,” he growls, pumping his fingers in time with the flicks of his tongue. “I can feel you squeezin’ me. I want you to come for me, baby. Wanna taste every fuckin’ drop.”

You’re powerless to resist.

You cry out, thighs clamping shut on either side of his head as you come on his tongue. Your body shakes so violently you knock a few things off the vanity, the distant sound of glass shattering hardly registers. 

Logan growls, low and dragged from the back of his throat in such a way that makes it reverberate in the space between your legs. His own arms come up, grip strong and encouraging as he forces your legs around his head even tighter than before.

He doesn’t stop, doesn’t let up, licking and sucking and pumping his fingers to drag you through the aftershocks like a man obsessed. 

When you finally come back to yourself, panting and trembling, Logan’s holding your shaking thighs apart, his mouth still pressed to you in soft, languid strokes.

“Fuckin’ perfect,” he mutters, voice rough and gravelly as he presses a final kiss to your oversensitive clit. 

Logan’s hands slide up to your hips, gripping tight as he rises to his feet, towering over you with that same dark, predatory gleam in his eyes. 

His lips are even redder than before, swollen and slick with your juices. His beard is damp and shining in the low light, and the smug, satisfied smirk on his face sends another pulse of heat through your already spent body.

“Good girl,” he purrs, not even bothering to wipe his mouth before leaning in to capture your lips in a kiss that’s all heat and possession. 

You can taste yourself on his tongue, the salt and musk mingling with the raw hunger. It’s filthy and intoxicating, and it leaves you gasping for air when he finally pulls away.

But Logan’s far from finished.

His hands slide under your ass, lifting you off the dresser with ease. Your legs wrap around his waist instinctively as he carries you to the bed and tosses you on it with little preamble.

Your back hits the mattress hard enough to have you bouncing on it once, twice, three times before Logan is crawling up to blanket your body with his. 

The heavy weight of his metal laced bones sink you into the soft plushness, keeping you stuck beneath him with nowhere to go.

Which you know is exactly where he wants you.

He slots his hips between yours, dragging the straining jut of his cock along your sensitive cunt. You can feel the warmth of him even through the thick material of his sweats, a scalding plane of heat that makes your cunt ache with need. 

You can feel the damp patch where his clothed tip nudges against your clit, and you know from that alone he’s already soaked through the cotton with pre-come. His cock leaking like a faucet in the harsh confines of his bottoms while he ate you out.

“Feel that?” Logan asks, voice hoarse as he buries his head in your neck. “That’s all ‘cause of you, baby. Got me drippin’ like I busted a damn pipe.”

The sharp intake of air you suck in at his words does nearly nothing to help your breathlessness, your desperation bleeding through as your frantic hands push at the waistband of his bottoms. “Off. Off.”

Logan huffs a rough laugh against your neck, his warm breath skating across your skin as his lips ghost over your pulse. “So fuckin’ bossy.”

He doesn’t move to help you, not right away, savoring the way your hands fumble and tug, your frustration bubbling over in breathy little gasps.

“You want it that bad, huh?” he teases, the rough timbre of his voice a stark contrast to the gentleness of his lips pressing along your jaw. “Look at you, so damn needy. Can’t even wait for me to get my cock out.”

You only tug harder, patience nonexistent as your fingers curl into the waistband. “Please, Logan. Don’t tease.”

“Alright, alright.” Logan finally gives in, sitting back just enough to push them over his hips, freeing his cock.

It springs free, slapping against his stomach heavy and slick with pre-come, the ruddy tip glistening in the low light.

The sight alone has you clenching around nothing, a devastatingly desperate noise falls from your lips as the ache between your thighs builds to an almost unbearable throb.

He makes quick work of ripping his shirt over his head, carelessly tossing it behind him before he’s back on you.

This time, when he bullies his hips in between yours, there's nothing separating you.

You feel every inch of his cock as it grinds along the seam of your cunt. The velvety skin is almost scalding as it drags against your own, the drool of pre-come only adding more to your own wetness.

Logan presses you into the mattress harder, rutting against your cunt almost desperately as he noses along your damp, overheated skin.

His mouth is everywhere. Sucking marks where the junction of your neck meets your shoulder, lapping up the sweat that pools in the valley of your breasts, licking a filthy stripe across the side of your face that has your cheeks burning.

He buries his nose in the sweaty skin of your underarm, whining and panting like a surly dog all over again. Each breath is hot and wet against you, and it only seems to make him hungrier, greedier. His cock blurts even more pre-come onto your skin with every inhale he takes.

It should gross you out. 

It should be utterly mortifying, but the sight of Logan like this only leaves you thrumming with want. 

His desperation, the raw, unfiltered way he takes you in—like he can’t get close enough, can’t have enough of you—has your pulse racing and your mind spinning out of control. 

You feel his nose press harder against your skin, the heat of his breath fanning over you as he groans, a deep, guttural sound that reverberates right through you. 

“Fuck,” he rasps, voice gravelly and broken. “You smell so goddamn good. Can’t help it. Can’t fuckin’—” His hips jerk, the weight of his cock sliding slickly against your cunt, bumping up against your clit in a way that makes you shiver. 

“Logan,” you whimper, your hands clutching at his broad shoulders, nails digging into his skin. Your hips lift instinctively, chasing the friction, the relief, the unbearable stretch you know only he can give you. “Please, I can’t take it anymore. I need you—need you so bad.”

He smirks, his lips curling against your skin as he nips at the curve of your jaw. “Need me, huh?” he murmurs, his tone dark and teasing. “Need my cock inside you, stretchin’ you open? Tell me, baby. Tell me how bad you need it.”

“So bad.” Your hips tilt up instinctively, desperate for him to push inside. The head of his cock catches at your entrance, the blunt pressure sending a jolt of electricity through your body. “Need you so bad it hurts. Please—please don’t make me wait.”

Logan growls, a feral sound. “Such a good girl when you beg for me.” he snarls, big hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise so he can flip you on your front, gently manhandling you until you're on all fours. “Gonna fill you up, princess.”

His hands knead the soft flesh of your ass as he lines himself up behind you. The weight of his cock presses against your entrance, slick and ready, and for a moment, he just stays there, teasing.

Your arms shake beneath you, elbows locked as you force yourself to stay still, patient.

The head of his cock nudges against you, spreading your slickness, and your body trembles in anticipation. He sinks himself into you in one deep, unrelenting thrust.

The stretch is instant, the burn delicious as he pushes inside, inch by inch, filling you in one fluid, devastating stroke. A choked gasp spills from your lips as he bottoms out, his cock seated so deep you swear you can feel him in your stomach.

“Fuck.” Logan stills, his cock pulsing inside you as he lets you adjust, but the restraint is fleeting. 

His hands glide up your back, palms rough and grounding as they map every curve, every quiver of your body. He starts grinding his hips in slow circles, pressing every inch of his cock along your velvety walls. 

Your head drops between your arms, brows pinched together as you take in greedy lungfuls of air. You’ll never get used to this, the way Logan fills you so perfectly, no matter how many times it’s been.

“Come on, baby.” Logan leans down to press a soft kiss between your shoulder blades, his lips fever hot. “You wanted to fuck me so bad you could hardly wait. Now’s your chance, fuck me.”

It takes a few long seconds for his words to cunt through the molasses clouding your mind, the small thrust of his hips hinting at what he wants you to do.

You let out a pitiful whimper, hands digging into your bed’s puffy comforter as you start rocking your hips. 

You start slow, letting yourself build up a nice, steady rhythm as Logan purrs words of encouragement from behind you. His hands never leave your hips, thumbs rubbing soft circles over your skin as you start to pick up the pace.

“That’s it,” he encourages darkly, giving the rippling muscle of your ass a sharp swat. “Find the fuckin’ spot, baby. Write your name on this cock, tell everyone who it belongs to.”

You cry out at the sting of his palm, bouncing yourself on his length impossibly faster. Your arms burn under the strain of your movements, but you can’t stop chasing the high of pleasure that shoots up your spine.

The sound of skin on skin fills the room, a lewd slap slap slap as you fuck yourself on Logan’s cock like he’s a replacement for the cheap suction cup dildo collecting dust in a box hidden away in your closet—like he’s nothing but a expertly shaped lump of silicon molded solely for your pleasure.

You can feel yourself getting close to the edge, and in nearly no time at all. The telltale coil buried deep in your belly winding tighter and tighter as you work yourself on Logan’s cock hard enough that the cheap frame of your bed thumps against the wall.

It might be embarrassing if you weren’t so far gone already, so fuck drunk that the too loud moans falling from your lips hardly phase you.

It's like there's nothing but the feel of Logan inside you, bumping against that spot inside you that has stars shining behind your closed eyes. 

“Close already?” Logan taunts from behind you, voice just the tiniest but breathless, but the way his cock pulses and jerks where it’s sheathed in your cunt lets you know he’s right there with you. “I know you are, honey. I can feel how she’s squeezin’ me, so damn tight.”

His hands dig into your hips, not even waiting for a response as he starts thrusting in time with your bounces. He pounds into you, hips snapping against your ass hard enough to sting.

“Fuck, I’m gonna come too baby,” he bites out, the rhythm of his hips getting sloppier. “Gonna come so fuckin’ hard, fill you up so good. Shit–”

Logan pulls out enough that only the thick tip of his cock stays sheathed in the warmth of your cunt, his body falling to hunch over yours as he pumps his come into you with a feral growl.

You whine at the feeling of his release filling you, painting your insides with spurt after spurt of thick come. It’s so much, it’s always so much. A rush of warmth that floods your insides each time without fail.

And just like that, the feeling alone has you coming.

Your back arches as your cunt gushes over the tip of his cock, drenching his thighs and the rest of his shaft in your essence. You think you may scream, but it’s hard to tell over the white noise rushing through your ears.

Your arms finally buckle under you as Logan helps you ride out the last few tremors of your orgasm with a few slow rocks of his hips, and your spent body collapses onto the mattress.

Logan’s low noises of pleasure barely register as your chest heaves almost violently, your lungs desperately trying to get as much air as they possibly can.

But you barely have time to catch your breath before Logan plants his knees back firmly on the mattress and starts thrusting, again. 

“Logan!” Your hands scramble for purchase on the mussed sheets of your bed, the overstimulation making your legs kick out frantically.

“You thought we were done?” Logan asks, his tone equal parts amused and mocking. “You popped twice already, baby. S’only fair that you let me catch up.”

With no warning, he takes you in his arms, pulling his cock out just long enough to flip you on your back. He throws your legs over his shoulders before plunging back inside your fucked open cunt with a filthy squelch. 

He feels even bigger like this, yet your body swallows his cock like it’s nothing. The spongy warmth of your walls melding to the shape of him like it’s what you were made for. 

The coarse hair of his happy trail drags across your clit each time he thrusts, adding to the blistering feeling where the knife's edge of too much too much too much meets not nearly enough.

His come stuffed in your trembling cunt only makes it all the more filthy, his cock plunging inside you and coming back out slick and wet on every thrust. 

Your lips fall open on a broken moan, eyes screwing shut as you work your cunt around him, feeling the way his release gets fucked deeper and deeper inside you.

Logan notices, of course he does.

A dark chuckle rumbles against your own as he leans down enough to whisper into your slack mouth. “You like havin’ someone come in your pussy, baby?”

You moan into his mouth unabashedly, loudly. Both of your eyes burning as tears threaten to fall down the flushed skin of your cheeks, your throat going dry and scratchy in the best way possible. 

“Shit–” Your hands claw at the rippling muscles of his back desperately, nails digging into his skin hard enough that you feel the unmistakable slickness of his blood coating the tips of your fingers.

The pain spurs him on, his head tips down on a low groan and his eyes squeezing together for a split second before he’s spewing filth again.

“You want some more?” Logan asks, tone going dark like he already knows the answer as his hips speed up impossible faster. “You want me to come again?”

You don’t respond, you can’t respond. You can barely make a coherent thought. 

All you can manage are whiny moans that fall from your slack lips, broken little uh uh uh’s that get punched out with each new thrust. Your nails rake down his back mercilessly, leaving behind deep red welts that heal as you go.

“Yeah, I know you do.” He turns his head to nip at the skin over the delicate bone of your ankle where it bounces near his head, sharp teeth digging in enough to have you whining pitifully. “You love havin’ a messy fuckin’ pussy, don’t you? Love being stuffed so full of my come you can’t even hold it all, huh?”

His words hit you like a physical blow, lighting up your body from the inside out. Your thighs shake where they’re wrapped around his hips, ankles locking over his lower back so he couldn’t pull out if he wanted to.

His come mixes with your juices to coat his cock, completely drenched all slick and shiny in the dull light of your bedroom. It drips down almost leisurely compared to the near feral snap of his hips, trailing all the way down his length to his heavy balls. 

“Yes.” He groans, reverent. “Give it to me, baby. Wanna feel you come on my cock again, feels so fuckin’ good. Can’t ever get enough—”

You’ve never heard him like this, so high of pleasure that his speech slurs and his words all meld together into one filthy stream of ramblings that has you sinking your nails even deeper into his back and coming on his cock with a loud wail.

Your cunt convulses around him, shaking with the force of your release, milking him. 

“Fuck, princess.” Logan pitches forward, his sweaty torso covering yours as he keeps fucking into your shaking body, desperately chasing his own release.

Finally, with a muted roar of your name, he sinks his teeth into the tender skin of your neck and comes for you.

You cry out at the sharp sting of his teeth bearing down hard enough to draw blood, your vision whiting out with the pleasure of being claimed in every way imaginable.

Logan’s hips only stop when he’s drained of every last drop, his body shaking where it lays over yours. He laps at the broken skin of your neck, a soft gesture that isn’t quite an apology for making you bleed—because you know that he isn’t sorry whatsoever—but it’s nice nonetheless.

Your arms come up to circle around his neck, eyes fluttering shut as the exhaustion hits you all at once. You get lost in the steady rhythm of Logan catching his breath, in the way his heart pounds against his ribcage where his chest is pressed to your own, in the way his fingers twitch and flex on your hips.

The last thing you hear as you drift off, his come starting to leak down your thighs in thick streams of white, is a hushed whisper of “I got you, baby. I’m right here, I’m always right here.”

It puts you at ease, all the worry you felt over the last few weeks slipping from your mind like grains of sand through your fingers.

Maybe, this new side of Logan isn’t so bad after all.

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