#unusual pillow

[moussemallow]

fell asleep in the middle of eating hay. lost in the sauce

[flannelandcocoa]

[medicalunprofessional]

never change, man !

[dress-this-way]

~ Pink | Plush | Glam ~

[wampiryzm]

my dog who usually sleeps with my mom during the night has decided to sleep in my bed two night in a row. what is it sweetheart. am I the only one who has not wronged you

[winterinthetardis]

wait I'm curious. was it the word 'chiz'? my dad always just refers to the remote as 'oon' lmao

lmaooooo nah, chiz is like....... a VERY common filler word that gets used ALL the time. i swear, i am very much fluent in farsi!! also, i realistically think chiz translates to thing, more than a "technical thingamabob." but lolol at oon... tbh same

no, the word was "masmasak" ("musmusak?" idk how to write in fingilisi...) which like honestly... i have realistically never heard anyone use that in ANY context other than about the remote control!!!!!! that's why i just thoUGHT THAT WAS THE WORD!!!!!!!

[greeksorceress]

Old flowers in an old book 😘🌹

this is so cute..... 🥺 it just felt like your vibe when i said that, and there's something so mesmerising about this that it was impossible to not associate it with you!

i do this too, and from now on i will think of you every single time i see one of my pressed flowers in my old books!

[always-a-slut-4-ghouls]

Damn, my history of taste in irl men is questionable at best, but at least the girls seem pretty normal???

[eupheme]

— honey, honey

[part ii of sugar, sugar] | [part iii] | [masterlist]

wolverine/logan howlett x neighbor!f!reader

rated e - 5.2k

tags: asshole friend!wade, (sorta soft) roommate!logan, baker!neighbor!reader, flirting, mutual yearning, miscommunication, immature humor, wingman!wade, light angst, oral sex, spitting, fingering, unprotected PiV, begging, floor sex

Even after you wake up alone, and almost late for work, it doesn’t deter your interest in your neighbor - especially after the night you shared.

(Or - a miscommunication, and the following through of two late-night promises.)

You awake to the blare of Dolly Parton's '9 to 5'. 

A time you wish your work schedule followed. Groggy with sleep as you reach for your phone, hitting snooze on your way-the-fuck-too-early alarm. 

Collapsing back on your pillows, as the night before comes rushing back to you.

The party. Meeting Logan. Coming back to your apartment after. 

An ache between your thighs that you definitely didn't have the morning before. Sitting up with a start, heart racing as your hand stretches out on the right side of the bed.

The sheets are cool, in-between the deep rips in the fabric.

You don't remember him leaving.

Had drifted off with an arm slung around your waist, one of the hardest sleeps of your life. Something inside you twists, leaving behind the sharp tang of disappointment. 

It's not unusual, you suppose. You'd had your fair share of fuck-and-go's, and had even committed a few yourselves. But you thought last night had felt different.

There had been a connection, you were sure of it. The way he had touched you, kissed you- 

You had just hoped...

The snoozed alarm goes off, and you catch the time. Forty-five minutes before than your usual alarm - the numbers shocking you into action. 

Set earlier to accommodate a last minute change for a wedding - all of the cupcakes needing to be repackaged before the mother of the bride came at seven. 

And you had volunteered, do-gooder that you were.

"Shit!” You hiss, scrambling out of bed. A whirlwind as you throw clothes on, banging into the bathroom to get ready.

Still muttering as you blow through the kitchen, snatching up your bag and keys. 

"Why the fuck did I do that?" You grouse to yourself, skipping your usual morning coffee - you'll have to grab it on the way, "God, I'm fucking dumb, I always regret it."

The door slams behind you - as you rush down the steps, and out into the streets.

His claws unsheath with the bang of the door. Awakened from a dead sleep, his heartbeat jolting as he's thrown back into another life, in another world. 

It takes him a full minute to come back down. His surroundings unfamiliar, the room still bathed in darkness. 

A groan, when he remembers. The claws slipping back beneath, a sharp twinge as his skin knits back together. 

It's too early for the late night he shared with you. Should have thought about you working in the morning, might have held back from the extra round the night before. 

Had meant to wake up before you, slip back into bed as you dozed. You had dropped off in his arms the night before, lulled to sleep after he had coaxed two more orgasms from you, with the slow pump of his hips and circle of his fingers. 

Dragging himself out to the couch once your breathing had gone steady. Tugging the homemade afghan off a nearby armchair, wrapping it around him as his eyes fixed on the door. Keeping watch, as he did next door.

Lulled to sleep, thinking about you. His eyes flutter shut for a moment now, the slightest pull of his lips at the memory. 

Flinching again, when you barrel out of the bathroom. The light makes him squint - you haven’t seen him yet, as he pushes himself up on an elbow. Your name soft hush on his lips, until he hears your angry muttering. 

"Why the fuck did I do that?"

"God I'm fucking dumb, I always regret it."

Your tone laced with anger, woven in with the sharp tang of remorse. 

The realization is a douse of ice-cold water, rising away the last dregs of sleep. Leaving him staring at the door as you yank it shut behind you. 

Scowling, as he pushes himself up. 

Nearly ripping the denim as he tugs his jeans back on. Finding his white tank and discarded flannel in your room, right where he had stripped them off the night before.

His jaw works, replaying your words.

He should have known. Shouldn’t have listened to Wade. Shouldn’t have listened to you. Shouldn’t have let himself hope. 

And for the second time, your door slams shut. 

You think about Logan all morning, even as you put out fires at work. 

The boxes exchanged - two-hundred and fifty rustic, individual cardboard carriers exchanged for sleek and shiny white ones, tied with a bow. The memory that runs through your mind even staves off your irritation at the last-minute work, a peppy smile and wave as you hand the boxes off. 

The 'tied-up-in-knots' is a feeling that echoes in your belly. Your fondness for Wade is starting to come back, after the way you were ready to write him off for that absolute debacle of an introduction. 

You'd been expecting something a little more... natural. Normal. A "hey, have you met my neighbor?" not one of the most embarrassing things you've had to live through with a near-stranger. 

Maybe you should have known better.

But with the way the night ended, you can't bring yourself to be mad. Letting yourself get distracted as you replay the night, again - almost grabbing the wrong tube of icing as your mind wanders back.

Not only thinking about the way he felt - those wandering hands and how perfectly he fit inside you, how he had completely fucked your brains out - but him as well. 

The conversations. The tiny crack you had made in his armor, the way he had shown you his claws. The drift of his fingers against your skin, when he had asked why you had gone to Wade. 

You’re thankful you’re working in the back today, with the way your skin heats from chest to ears. Quiet mutterings to get it to together. 

And as the afternoon finally starts to lull, you find yourself gathering ingredients.

It wouldn't take long to make something small. The recipe is one you know by heart. 

Maybe you can drop it off tonight. Maybe it will erase whatever you did to drive him from your bed and back to his apartment in the middle of the night. Maybe it will be a nice way to let him know you’re thinking of him.

Vanilla, flour, powdered sugar. Fresh, sliced strawberries.

Maybe you have it bad. 

The box is tucked under your arm when you knock on Wade’s door. It’s still early in the afternoon - the hallways bright, traffic buzzing outside.

You fidget with the strap of your dress - something breezy, but still a little cute. An attempt to look like you have it together with looking like you tried too hard - something easier said than done.

There’s a fluttering twitch behind your ribs when the door opens. That curl of hope squashed when it’s not Logan that answers, but Wade.

You’re quick to fix your expression, offering him a smile, “Morning! Late night?”

“Is it a late night if it’s still going?” A yawn, as he scratches at his ribs - fingers digging into the fabric of his cropped tee, “We’re four seasons deep into a Supermarket Sweep marathon. If I could go back in time again…”

The tv blares in the background, Al sitting in an armchair. The couch from the night before still sits empty, no sign of Logan. 

Not that you’re checking. 

“You’d… want to host?” You offer, eyebrows raising. 

“God no. Can you imagine me in those sweaters? Way too much polyester.” He chuckles, “No, Blind Al and I would sweep. Pun intended.”

Your head tilts, nose scrunching.

“I see you make that face, but that woman knows every goddamn aisle.” Wade sighs fondly, before he’s jolting - eyes fixing on you, “But enough about the biggest regret in my life, how was your night?”

“Oh,” You manage, “It’s was good-”

“Just good?” He scoffs, “He gave you the greatest show and you’re saying it’s just good?”

A huff, muttered under his breath, ”Can’t remember the last time I took the skin boat to tuna town like that. Surprised you’re still walking.”

The noise you make is ugly - a broken groan. Embarrassment flooding with your nerves, cheeks heating, “If you must know, it was great. Lots of wholesome, adult conversation.”

“Uh huh. And a good, old-fashioned railing.” His tongue tucks against his teeth, “I get it! I’ve had him inside me too, it was quite the experience.”

That has you pausing. A beat, as curiosity wells in you, “You mean…?”

“Well, it was his claws,” Wade sighs wistfully, “But how different can it be?”

You huff.

“I don’t think that’s the same thing.”

His brow lifts, “It is, according to the internet.”

“Sure, Wade. The Internet.” Your eyes roll, as you shift - adjusting the box as it rests against your hip, “Speaking of though, is he, uh, home?” 

Wade doesn’t hear you. His eyes have already dropped, just noticing what you’re carrying. A tilt of his head as he peers through the transparent film on top. 

“What is that?” His finger pokes the box, and your eyes dip down

“It’s nothing,” You start - but you know he won’t let it drop, “Well, actually, it’s - I uh, made him a-”

The words peter out lamely, as you hold up the box. Wade’s teeth sink into the side of his lip, as he bites back a cackle. 

“Did you seriously bake him a ‘thanks-for-the-sex’ cake?” 

You blink, “No!”

A pause, as mortification wells in you.

“Oh my god,” It’s a whisper, as your hand drags across your face, “Oh my god, Wade. I baked him a sex cake.”

You shove at him as he laughs - his hands sneaking beneath your arm to wrestle the box away from you, “Mm, you’ve got it bad, girlfriend. This is pretty embarrassing, real hard to come back from.”

“There was context!” You insist, reaching for it, “Give that to me.”

Wade twists - pivoting away from you, “Oh ho, not a chance, Sugarplum.”

Your forearm presses into his chest as you lunge at him, but it’s all too easy for him to set the box on the cluttered end-table, barring you as he closes the door - trapping you both out in the hallway. 

“He earned it, from what I heard,” He chuckles, “And are you really gonna take it away from him?”

You’re still mentally, and possibly physically, cringing. Leaning against the wall, while he blocks the door. 

Wade is still grinning, a sigh as his arms cross,“God, I wish he was here.”

And for the first time all day, you’re glad he’s not. It had seemed like a sweet idea but you’re left feeling like an idiot now - already planning on trying to sneak back in and grab it when Wade isn’t looking. 

“He’s not?” You’re fishing. Hook and bobber, a flick as you cast out your heart, fingers on the reel. Pathetic, perhaps, but you can’t resist, “You think he’ll be back tonight?”

“Ooh, the real reason you stopped by. I see how it is.” He sniffs, “But no, I’ve got no idea. Left this morning with Laura, something about a job.”

A beat, before he adds, “Which about time, bee tee dubs. Great face card, but Old Wadey here is about to go into overdraft.”

“Laura?” You parrot, without thinking. A frown creasing your brow, the slightest downturn of your lips.

He catches the expression immediately. 

Wade smirks, “Ooh, you are looking so green, Sugar. Never took you for the jealous type.”

An inhale of air between his teeth, head tilting as his hands brace on his hips, “God I could make this so complicated right now. Drag this whole thing out to another chapter, but I won’t, because I just so happen to like you.”

A beat, before he puts you out of your misery, “Laura’s his daughter. Well, this world’s Logan’s daughter. Well, he’s the baby daddy, but there’s no mom. Well, it’s complicated.”

“Oh.” You manage. Another detail to keep up with, something you tuck away with the rest. To ask Logan about later, when you see him - a feeling that he might be a little more coherent in his explanation.

“I’m sure you’ll meet her.” Wade smiles, “Good kid, I mean, as good as you can be with that as a father figure. So much trauma.”

You hum. He had hinted at that. You couldn’t believe that his world didn’t want him. Not sure what could have happened to have him all but warn you the night before.

As if it would make you not want him. 

There’s a beat, before his hands are resting on his hips, “Okay. I need to go back to the apparently-contextual-sex-cake.” 

You groan, slumping against the wall - the heels of your palms digging into your closed eyes.

“I thought it was embarrassing but I gotta admit that I’m jealous. It’s really bothering me that no one’s ever baked me a cake, because I’m a very tender and generous lover.”

“That wasn’t why. He seemed interested in trying a non-phallic version of the cake I made for you,” You try to keep it professional, but he’s already smirking, “Which thank you for bringing up by the way, really broke the ice.”

“Without me you’d still be at ‘favorite colors’,” Wade’s smile widens, before he sighs longingly, “And god, that cake was good. Best dick I’ve ever had in my mouth.”

You snort, “So far, right?”

His eyes widen.

“You little slut, are you shopping for a third already?” Wade twists the doorknob - opening it a crack with his yell, “Al, it’s happening!”

“No,” You laugh, “I just meant-, I meant I might get better.”

“Can’t beat perfection. And I would know, with a face like this.”

There’s a high-pitched yap then, the sound of nails scratching at the wooden door. 

“Ooh, duty calls. Pun intended. Again.” He thumbs over his shoulder, “I’ll tell him you stopped, by if-”

You give him a look, but a grin still tugs at your lips, “If I do that other thing you’re always asking me to do.”

His hand presses against his chest, in mock-offense.

“I can’t believe you’d say that! I was going to say if you don’t see him first.”

It makes you smile. Fondly, even. 

“Thanks, Wade.”

His hand pats your shoulder. 

“Any time, Sugar. My holes are always open.”

You sigh. 

You don’t see him until late in the evening. 

The afternoon ticking by. Telling yourself you don’t care - to play it cool - only to turn around and try to convince yourself that open communication is the way to go.

Vegging out in front of the television for a while - trying to figure out what to order for dinner. Narrowing it down to two takeout locations when there’s a series of bangs in the hallway.

Layered voices. 

You can’t help but look. Half-nosy and half-worried for Wade, even if he did have mutant powers. Even if you can’t offer much for backup, it doesn’t stop you from cracking open the door. 

“-open the goddamn door right now, I’ll break it down.”

The growling voice is one you’ve come to know, even if it’s angrier than you’ve ever heard.

The side of Logan’s fist colliding with the door frame, his shoulder pressed up against the wooden door.

“Not a chance, Jack Torrance.” Wade’s voice is muffled, “Always wanted to be an uncle and you are not ruining this for me-”

The doorknob rattles under his grip, as he snarls, “You roped me into this, shithead. All that talk about getting to know-“

“New York’s Cupid is never wrong! Don’t you dare ruin my streak!”

It’s then that Logan sees you - the snarl on his face flickering. Expression going flat.

A final filthy glare shot at the door before he steps away. The calculated look he throws your way makes you think he’s considering making for the end-of-the-hall staircase instead.

What is happening? 

A beat, before his jaw grits. Hand shoving into the pocket of his jeans. Closing the gap between you only to thrust out a rolled-up bundle of bills, secured with a rubber band. 

“For the mattress.” 

There’s a frustrated rumble in his throat when you don’t take it - too busy frowning, your eyes flicking from the bills to his face.

“I don’t want that?” It comes out like a question, as you try to put the pieces together. 

“Just take it.” He grits. Eyes dropping, “You can replace your mattress and we can forget last night happened, if you regret it so much.”

You blink.

“I don’t regret last night, Logan.” Your hands brace on your hips, “You were the one that left. Which is fine, if that’s how you like things to go, but don’t you dare point your finger-”

Logan scoffs, interrupting you.

“I didn’t leave.” His tongue licks against his teeth, as his head shakes, “I slept on the couch. Perfect place to hear your rant this morning.”

Your hands brace on your hips, “My rant?”

“Yeah, Sugar.” He’s stepping into your space - and it shouldn’t be as hot as it is, but something about how you’re bumping up against the door has your heart racing, “Heard everything you said. How ‘fucking dumb you are’, how you regret it.”

A beat, as you process - a thunk, as you head tips back against the door. Everything becoming clear, and you almost laugh. 

He hadn’t left.

“I wasn’t talking about you.” 

His frown deepens.

Your face softens, “How could I think that? I spent all day thinking about you. I was mad at myself for taking an early shift, instead of getting that extra time with you.”

There’s still a jut to his jaw. Defenses and hackles raised - your words as useless as his fist against the door.

Your hands spread wide, “I even baked you a cake, which is apparently something I do when I like someone.”

He goes still at that, eyes dark. A lithe roll of his shoulders as he steps closer - voice dropping, “Say that again.”

“I baked you a cake?” You repeat, distracted by his proximity.

“Mm,” Logan hums, “Not the beginning. The last part.”

Your cheeks heat, as you realize what you said, “When… when I like someone.”

There’s the touch of his fingers against your chin. Tipping your face towards his, even as your eyes drift to somewhere over his shoulder. Too embarrassed to meet his gaze just yet.

“Is that right?” Logan husks. 

The word slips from you, “Maybe.”

“I like maybe.”

That emboldens you to look. He’s close now, a mimicry of the night before - just on the other side. 

The hand still hovers, in that narrow gap between you. Fingers flexing around the bundle of bills, “I still want you to take this.”

“Well, I don’t want it.” Your head shakes, “Maybe just for some new sheets, but I thought-“ 

There’s a different intent in the way he crowds you, now. A softer slope of his shoulders, the sweep of his thumb against your skin. 

“Thought what?”

The low husk makes you squirm. His eyes half-lidded when you glance at him. The heat of his anger morphing into a much different kind of fire. 

“Thought that if it was already ruined…” You trail off, as you smile. 

As you hope.

“….maybe you’d want to ruin it a little more with me, sometime?”

There’s the slightest pull of his lips, as he smirks. 

You make it inside, but no further than the couch. It’s familiar, the way his hand cradles the base of your neck. The muted sigh, when your lips part at the sweep of his tongue.

Laid down against the cushions, legs spread to fit him between them. Hips that dip down, the meat of his thigh nudging against your core, sending your heart racing. 

How he chases after you, when you forget to breathe. Leaning in you as your fingers twist in his hair, tugging him closer. 

Need pounds in your vein, matching the pulse in your throat when his lips press against it. Wandering hands, one that palms the curve of your breast. A throaty hum when he can feel the tight peak through the fabric, pinching it between thumb and forefinger.

The other skating up your bare thigh, raising goosebumps. Slipping beneath the hem of your dress, his leg shifting to make room. Fingertips stroking against your inner thigh - the soft crease as you whine into his mouth, feeling how his lips curve as he kisses you. 

You’re wet already. You know you are - since that spark of realization, then the moment when his mouth pressed against yours. Fueled by the heavy weight of him as he guided you beneath him, smelling like smoke and wood and the sharp bite of leather. 

Wound up by this teasing, and it’s enough that your hand is catching his wrist, pulling his palm flush with your core. 

The moan it pulls from you is ragged. Logan’s hand is warm where he cups you, curling fingers against the curve of your ass, heel pressing against your seam. 

Another rock of his hand, until there’s a soft “please” slipping from your lips. Fingers slip beneath then - a ragged curse muttered against your lips as they part you.

Slipping against where you’re wet and warm. The tips of two pressing against your opening, feeling how you give for him.

“Should let me make it up to you.” Logan’s voice is ragged, as he sinks to the knuckle. A slow pump as you clench down around them, a lift of your hips as you try to take more. 

It’s on the tip of your tongue to protest. 

Remind him it was just a misunderstanding, but then your eyes are fluttering open, seeing how his dark gaze is fixed on you.

Your answer is quiet, “Okay. S’long as you don’t stop.”

There’s the flash of sharp teeth. You mourn the weight of him as he eases off of you, fingers slipping free. But it’s only to catch your thighs - smearing slick across your skin as he moves to the floor. Tugging you until legs spread wide for him, hips at the edge of the couch.

There’s a hitch of your breath, as you hold it. His lips pressing against your knee, as his hand bundle up the fabric. A slow reveal as he fists it around his fingers, bringing it up to rest against your abdomen.

His kisses follow the path his fingers took. Open-mouthed against your thigh, until his tongue dips out to taste the soft skin where your leg meets hip.

“Logan,” You huff - needy, “Don’t tease.”

His eyes lift from where they lingered - the darkened patch of fabric between your thighs. 

“Been teasing me since I left. Couldn’t stop thinking about this.” It comes out rough, his eyes flicking back down.

“But I thought-,” You start. It’s hard to think when he’s this close, the press of his thumb into the joint of your knee - keeping your legs spread, “Thought you were mad.”

Logan huffs. Lips ghosting against your skin, as he inhales, “At the thought of never having you again.”

It’s like being struck by an arrow, piercing clean through. The little gasp turning long, as his hand slips up your thigh. Catching at the waistband of your panties - tugging them down so he can get his mouth on you.

The tip of his tongue meets you before his lips do. A low groan as it flattens against your slit, tasting your arousal. His nose pressing against your mound as he teases at your clit. Slipping down to dip inside you, as your nails scrape against the cushions. 

Slicking you up with his tongue. The buzzing groan of his lips against your skin as he eats you - open-mouthed kisses against your core. Tight licks against your clit, before his lips close around and suck.

It leaves you a mess. Short panting breath, as he gives you what you need. His name melding in with your gasps, as that string inside you winds tighter and tighter.

The pressure eases and you whimper as he leans back, jaw working. Lips shiny where he’s smeared with you - watching how you clench for him as he lets spit pool on his tongue, before it’s dropping against your folds. 

It’s filthy, the way he rubs it into your skin. Coating his fingers before the two are notching again, before sinking deep into you.

A moan is pulled from you, with the stretch. Stealing your breath, even with how eager you are. Giving you more. That dull ache easing as his mouth returns to you. Hungry in the way he groans against your skin, as if he was getting off to your pleasure.

The time before doesn’t compare to now. The full focus of his fingers, buried deep and crooking. Pointed flicks of his tongue - the way his eyes are so fixed on your face.

Catching the pull of your brow and the way your teeth sink into your lip. Keeping the pounding pace steady when he sees how you gasp, your fingers fisting in his flannel. Relentless in the way they stroke against the spot that makes you see stars. 

It sends you higher and higher. A groan against your skin when you buck into his mouth. Another one, louder, when your hand slips to his hair and tugs. 

“Feels so fucking good, Logan,” You’re babbling now - desire slurring the syllables, “I’m so, I’m so close-”

Those dark eyes settle over you - his mouth busy but it’s not hard to imagine the way he’d encourage you. The husk of his voice, that tough timber as a low command melds with praise. The thought is enough to send you over - with the soft suck of his mouth, the way his fingers fill you. 

Your knees dig into his shoulders as you curl inward - that hand at your belly pressing you flat against the cushions as you come. Making you take what he gives you - the flick of his tongue going lazy as the tight pulse around his fingers ebbs. 

The tension leeches from you, turning to glitter in your veins. That tight knot of worry slowly unfurling - giving you something to grasp, hold onto, as you come back down. A sigh when his fingers slip from you. The hungry press of teeth against your inner thigh, a reminder that he’s there. Soothing it with the swipe of his tongue after. 

Easing back as you push yourself up - his shoulder pressing into the edge of the couch as he sits on the floor. Your limbs are liquid as you slip down to join him - Logan’s broad hands gripping at your waist, your thighs splitting as you throw a leg across his lap.

“You’re too good at that.” You hum, as you settle in his lap bare, spit-slick against his jeans. Against where he strains, a breath hissed out as you tug at his belt. Reaching to help you - loosening the button, tugging at the zipper.

A lift of his hips to push his jeans down, his cock full and hard where it rests against your belly. His hands reaching for the hem of your dress, tugging it from you. Fingers slipping around to loosen your bra as your mouth meets his. 

He tastes like you, as he licks into your mouth - a sweet tang that blends with him. His shaft pressing against your pussy as he lifts his hips, grinding himself into you. You push yourself up onto your knees - his lips parting with a groan as your fingers circle him, holding him steady.

It breaks off - a sharp hiss, when you sink down. 

There’s no slow slide this time. Too eager, in the way you drop down. Taking half of him at once, with a breath that chokes you. His fingers pinching hard enough to bruise, as his brow knits. 

“Easy, sweetheart.” He grits, “Not going anywhere, alright?”

It soothes you, as your nails bite into his shoulders. Pink marks that ebb away by the time you start moving - a slow bounce until you’re sitting flush on his lap, cock speared inside you. 

It’s also different than last time. He’d been deep, then. Your faced pressed into the mattress as you had panted - but now -

Now, his mouth is at your shoulder. Lips pressed against the fading mark he had left. That tight grip of his hands loosening, as he guides you - letting your hips rock. A shallow drag of his cock inside you, feeling like he’s in your ribs. 

Another press of his mouth against your sternum. Hands slipping down to wrap around your thighs, encouraging you to lift a little more. Enough that he can get his mouth on you - his tongue laving across a nipple. Groaning as you press your chest against him, leaning into the suck of his lips, the nip of teeth.

His thrusts like this are shallow, punctuated by the occasional deep thrust that has you panting. Has your fingers loosening to slip between your thighs, pressing against your clit.

You can feel the scrape of his facial hair. The ease of his hands as he lets you drop, until he’s buried in you again. Catching at your wrist, tugging your hand back to his shoulder.

“Uh-uh.” Logan tongue clicks, eyes dark, “Just keep riding, honey.”

His fingers replace yours. Slick circles, a pressure that makes you clench down hard around him. 

A soft coo, as your breathing shortens - turning to whimpers. 

“Lemme make you feel good.”

And this is new, too - how close he is. Those hazel eyes focused so singularly on you, it’s almost too much.

“You do make me feel good,” You breathe, letting your lips press against his cheek, ‘You’re, oh-”

His hips stutter, where he flexes into you. Your own pace sloppy - grinding instead of bouncing, chasing the building pleasure in your core. The soft sounds you make growing louder. His legs flexing beneath you, feet going flat against the floor so he can drive himself up.

There’s that tell-tale clench. The way your vision starts to go blurry, words slipping into sounds. 

“Logan.” You, “I’m-,”

He can feel it - the way you tighten as he pounds into you. The glaze of your eyes, the throaty moan as you start to string stiff in his arm. 

“That’s it,” Logan rasps, face tipped up to yours, “You gonna come for me?”

Your moan pitches high. 

He grins. 

“Then let me hear how pretty you sound. Come on, sweetheart.”

With the circle of his fingers, you’re shattering.

A soft cry as you come again, gushing against the cock that only pounds harder. Drawing out the flutter of your cunt as he grips your thighs, rocking into you. A ragged moan as he feels how you flutter around him, head tipped back. An arm wrapping around you back as he tips forward, bringing you down to the floor.

You head cushioned on the pile of discard clothes. His knees brace against the rug as the angle changes, sending him deeper. Lifting your hips, eyes fixed on where he drives into you. The gleam of his cock where he’s soaked with your release, how he slips between your puffy folds.

His teeth grit. Fingers flexing against your skin. A rough moan when your hips move to meet his thrusts.

“You want me to come in you again?” There’s an edge to his voice. Eyes fixed on your face, searching.

You nod, but it’s not enough. 

His hips snap harder, breath ragged, “Ask me for it, Sugar.”

It makes your stomach clench. Something deep burning, liquid heat in your core. Your legs hitch around his waist, hooking around his back.

“Want you to come in me,” You beg, “Logan, please-”

His eyes flutter shut. The muscles in his neck flex, as he arcs over you - a hand braced on the floor, pricks of silver glinting between his knuckles.

A rough growl that turns into something soft as his hips snap forward - hilting himself as he comes. Hips pumping with each pulse of his cock, as he spills deep inside you. As you milk him dry, until the heavy throb of his cock fades. 

He’s beautiful. It leaves you dizzy.

You really might just have to bake him another.

The golden sunset seeps through the windows, spilling across the floor.

“You wanna stay?” 

It comes out drowsy. Your limbs are liquid, even more so than last time, “I know a great takeout place.”

You’ll need a little fuel, if tonight goes as it did before. 

He hums - the brush of bare fingers down your spine. It’s cramped on the couch, entwined limbs. Sweat-dewed in the summer evening. 

“You still wanna get to know me?”

Your nose brushes his throat. Cheek pressed up against the curl of his shoulder - where he can just feel you nod, “I would. If you’ll let me.”

“Yeah,” Logan rasps, quietly.

“Yeah. That sounds nice.”

I can't even express how just - grateful and thrilled and happy I am that so many of you liked sugar, sugar! thank you for the encouragement for this part 2, and I hope you liked it! 💖 I have one more part planned (though open for more!) that I've been working on, along with more for the wade x f!reader x logan fic as well!

[hatsalad]

.

[kurogxrix]

Clingy Mornings

Bruce Wayne x Wife!reader, Batboys x Batmom

IN WHICH your clinginess towards your husband never fails to disgust your sons.

WC: 1.5k

“And where'd you think you're going?” The sudden sound of your voice, albeit muffled partly by your pillow and sleepiness, startled your husband from his sitting place at the edge of your shared bed. You could barely even see with the morning grogginess clouding your iris, yet Bruce’s defined back muscles somewhat managed to break through your view. 

Bringing a hand up to wipe at your eyes, you couldn’t help but relish in the sight of your husband’s fine muscles flexing as he turned to meet your eyes. The way his bicep laid there all deliciously as he tipped all of his body weight onto one arm, the other moving up to caress at your cheek lovingly. There was no denying the pure adoration that swam through his beautiful blue iris, they spoke for themselves. 

“Well one of us has to be downstairs before Alfred decides that we’ve had enough sleeping time and barges into our room.” he chuckled slightly, a rare instance for The Batman, yet he’d only show this side when he was Bruce Wayne alongside you. His beautiful wife and mother of his children, adopted or not, they were yours. He had to force himself and resist the urge to chuckle as he watched your expression morph into a pout, your delicate hand pulling at his arm as you tried to get him back under the sheets with you. 

“Cmon Bruce, just a few more minutes.” you pleaded, tiredness still evident in your voice but it progressively faded the more you stayed up begging your husband to fall asleep with you again. Your hopes spike as Bruce laid behind you for a second, but the fact that he was laying on his forearm and elbow immediately crushed all of your hopes. His warm palm never left your cheek once, making you snuggle deeper into the palm that was just as big as your face. 

“I’d love to, trust me. But are you sure that you don’t want to see those demons of yours before they leave?” Of course he’d do that, of course Bruce would use your beloved children as bait for you to accompany him downstairs and finally leave the bed. You grunted something along the lines of ‘well then you better carry me’ in the crook of his neck as you threw your arms around his shoulders. This time Bruce couldn’t resist chuckling as he grabbed you delicately by the hips, hosting you onto his lap as he stood up from the plush mattress. 

Bruce hadn’t complained once about your clinginess. Truth to be told you’d been like this since the night before because you had rarely seen your beloved Bruce for nearly a whole ass week. It wasn’t unusual that you both wouldn’t see each other, on days that you’d be busy with work and on nights that the city’s menaces just wouldn’t rest. But recently everything had just been too much, too many meetings, too many villains and yet not enough time.

You winced as his hands came to lay across the bruises that now decorated your hips, two huge hand marks engraved into your skin as a remnant of the previous night. Needless to say that the reunion sex had you reaching for the stars, and the faint ache between your legs was a constant reminder of just what Bruce’s perfect girth could do to you. 

Your husband moved his hands with expertise as he descended the stairs, having only one hand under your ass to support your weight as the other laid along your back. You weren’t even concerned about a potential fall, because your husband did happen to be Batman, and his strength was unmeasured to your body weight. No matter what it was. 

Dick had been the first to notice his father walk into the living room, not that it was hard to notice him considering the absolute unit of a man that your 6’4 husband was. Your eldest son was perched up on the sofa, a bowl full of cereal and milk as the TV played in the background. He froze at first, unable to see you from your buried position in Bruce’s chest. Dick was afraid that you’d walk in shortly after you dear husband and start ripping one off on your son for eating on your couch, because even as the grown ass man that he now was, Dick was the messiest eater that you’d ever seen.

Though luckily for him that never came because it seemed like you had better plans, which included being stuck all day to your husband. No exaggeration. He watched in amusement as Bruce sat down amongst his children on the sofa, Damian not even displaying an ounce of attention towards his father as his eyes strained on the TV. could tell that it was a lazy morning for the both of you, even if Bruce claimed that it wasn’t for him. He had been clearly too bothered to dress before going down, instead clad in nothing but a pair of black boxers that he’d quickly thrown on in the morning. His warm, bare skin brought warmth against your clothed one, making you cling to him even harder than you previously were. 

Dick couldn’t help the smile growing upon his lips as he noticed the way your hands were clamped tightly around Bruce’s neck alongside the way your legs caged his waist. Like a clingy koala, he thought. 

You’d not moved from your position upon arrival, and at first your children could’ve thought that you were sleeping, and that Bruce was the clingy one after having snatched you from the comfort of your bed to snuggle with you downstairs on the couch.

Although they quickly found their assumptions to be wrong as they watched Bruce hand move up to your lower back, rubbing it adoringly before he gently tapped you to move and cuddle his side so he could eat. The bowl of cereal that he’d quickly grabbed from Alfred sat on the table staring at him, and his stomach was yelling for it. 

You squeezed in between Bruce and Damian as you climbed off your husband's lap, offering him the limited space that he’d get for the rest of the week. By all means you were still cuddled up to his side, an arm wrapped around his bicep as you rested your head on his bulging muscles. 

In the back of your mind, you heard a little voice telling you that this morning was all too weird. Why? Because the living room was far too silent for it to harbour all four of your children at once in. Maybe If you’d both been a little more aware you would’ve caught the sight of Jason trying and desperately failing in his attempts of ‘secretly’ snapping a picture of you both since the moment you’d walked in. 

Bruce could be sure that in a few hours he’d get a ping from his phone and a bunch of notifications about some sort of instagram post that your son has posted about the seemingly intimidating Bruce Wayne cuddling up to his wife. The caption would read ‘Bruce Wayne has gone soft, nobody is safe from the softpocalypse anymore’, but you didn’t know that as of now. 

Maybe you’d catch sight of that devilish grin adorning your youngest’s face, yet again that was nothing new. Or maybe you would have been able to notice the way Tim would often part from his beloved cup of coffee to check if Jason got the right angle. Although Bruce would admit later on that there’s no shame in showing some well deserved love to your spouse, he’d most definitely ground them all for playing this little ‘prank’ on him. 

You slowly returned in Bruce’s embrace after watching whatever idiotic movie that Dick had put on for god knows how long. Bruce’s bowl now empty and sitting on the coffee table before you. You took it as a sign that you could retake your spot within his arms, and your brooding husband didn’t even complain once as you got comfortable. With your face now buried in the warmth of his neck once again, you couldn’t help yourself but to give him a chaste kiss here and there.

“In front of my coffee.” you paused your movements at the disgusted tone in Tim’s words, effectively getting your other son’s to turn towards you both. You relished in their disgusted disagreeing, carefree laughter escaping you while blocking whatever sound came from the TV. You watched as your boys all left the room one by one to go on with their days, claiming that they can’t stand you two being ‘too in love’ because it was far too disgusting.

A solid minute after the room regained its original silence, save for the soft sounds of the movie still playing, Bruce allowed himself to relax in your arms. He slid down the sofa in a lazy position, keeping you tightly trapped in his embrace as he rested his head above yours. Hands regaining their comforting motions above your back, a rare and cocky smile graced Bruce’s face. Now that the whole mansion knew that you both were up and going, all in your ‘disgusting’ clinginess, he could only guess when the next person who dared to walk upon you both would come and disturb you. 

-

Hope my bruce girlies eat this shit up. also this is UNEDITED😔

[nochepsicodelica]

Thinking of how hard Toji gets to the scent of your body wash, shampoo, lotion etc. He has his own bottle of shampoo and body wash, yet there he is, lathering himself up head to toe with the sweet scents of your shower products. It's not unusual for him to squeeze the bottles to catch the gust of sweet air that comes out of them when he showers, just like it's not unusual for him to douse himself in your scent when he misses you.

You're working a late night shift, not home for another two hours, meaning Toji goes to bed alone. His phone isn't interesting enough when it doesn't buzz with messages from you or other important notices, so he sets it down on the nightstand and just stares up at the ceiling. His dick is hard and your scent is driving him absolutely insane, the way the sweet notes linger on his body. He can smell it prominently on his bare chest and his pillow radiates the scent of your shampoo due to his slightly damp hair. He can't even pretend like he's comfortable enough to sleep this way.

(NSFW Below)

He groans in frustration, so hesitant in following through with beating his dick. This is stupid. It's not you, you're not home in bed with him yet, yet it's like your saccharine presence is wrapping around him, just adding on to the temptation.

After going back and forth for what seems like forever, he bites. He needs you. You're infesting his mind, clouding any other thought that doesn't involve you. This scent that normally goes on your body... your soft, sweet, delicate body- God, he misses you.

He rolls onto your side of the bed, bringing his pillow along. Your bottle of perfume sits in the first drawer of your nightstand, where Toji blindly digs around until he has it in his hand. Such a small bottle of poison. Once you run out, he'll gladly buy it for you again.

He spritzes the fragrance once, accidentally doing so with the nozzle facing him. He can't even be annoyed as he wipes it off his lips and nose with the back of his hand. The scent is smeared on the lower half of his face now, and his cock is twitching uncontrollably in his boxer briefs. All he can smell is you. The scent is already so strong, yet he's turning the nozzle and spraying it into the air again and again until the entire bed smells like you. He doesn't notice that the small bottle is half empty now, even as he puts it back in your drawer.

He lays back on the bed, satisfied with the sweetness that engulfs his nose, so merciful and gentle on him, causing him to act the opposite way as he takes his leaking cock into his fist and makes himself cum way too fast. He feels pathetic, groaning loudly after cumming within less than a minute. There's no one there watching, yet his cheeks grow warm at the mess he made within such a short amount of time. It's not enough to prevent him from going at it again. He's still hard. He has another one in him.

His mind hasn't shut down and it keeps projecting memories of you. A mix of loving ones—like when you happily twirled for him in a flowy dress that you said you always wanted to wear but didn't feel pretty enough for, or that time your nose scrunched in disgust at a cafe after trying something new and not liking it.

Toji lets out a breathy, deep laugh at the memory, before the more lewd memories with you start flooding his mind. Like the time he had to suppress the sound of your moans with his hand, so that you wouldn't get caught screwing in one of the bathroom stalls of a restaurant, or the times when you get all clingy with him and start kissing him all over until you end up sucking him off, or the fucked out expression on your face when he eats you out until you're crying and your knuckles go pale from how hard you fist the sheets beneath you.

"Fuck," he groans, all raspy and low as he furiously glides his hand up and down his messy length. "Come on," he utters through a heavy breath. "Fuck me, mama..." he huffs. "Just-" his breath hitches, "just like that." His eyes are closed so that he can vividly picture you bouncing on his dick. He starts thrusting into his fist, his abs quivering as he chases the climax that he's been building up. His breaths become heavier and they're rapidly released into the air, before he's spewing spurts of cum all over his abdomen and hand again. His brows pinch, and his jaw hangs open to release shamelessly loud groans. He's arching his back off the mattress as he continues fisting his twitching cock to get it all out. He's gasping as he squeezes his swollen, sensitive tip, thumbing at the slit until he can't handle the stimulation anymore.

He takes a few minutes to calm down before he sluggishly makes his way to the bathroom to clean himself up. It doesn't take very long for his heavy eyelids to shut and for him to fall into slumber once he slides into bed again. He feels good and everything still smells like you.

When you finally get home, all the lights are off except the porch light. The first thing you do is search for Toji. It's late, he's most likely sleeping, so you stride over to your shared bedroom first.

You were correct. He's knocked out, not on his side of the bed, but in the middle. The whole room smells so much like your favorite perfume, to the point where your nose burns and feels stuffy. You're wondering if you forgot to put it away and Toji dropped it by accident and it spilled everywhere, or if the bottle spontaneously exploded. You don't want to make any more wild assumptions, so you walk over to your nightstand and look for it where you last remember putting it. It's still in there, but a little more than half of it is gone. There are no cracks or damage overall to the bottle or nozzle, so it's just a huge point of confusion to you. It was a brand new bottle, you had only been using it for a few days, so of course you're a little irked to find that the majority of it is gone.

The only thing holding up your sanity is the sight of your handsome man sleeping so soundly.

[tojisun]

!! it’s very silly and unserious and the only reason it’s long is because it’s so vivid in my head. unedited as hell </3

nosy neighbours tf 141 got me giggling. and it’s not even inherently sexy nor attractive, it’s really just them being in people’s (or a person’s) business.

thinking about how, in retirement, they still bought a house together because it’s so odd to have separate lives. and so they bought one in the suburbs, with five bedrooms and four baths, and a really big backyard. kyle picked up gardening so the backyard was not just a plus but a damn requirement.

so they move in, not giving a damn about that one old WASP couple across the street watching them all with a sneer because apparently moving in with your mates is unusual. well, whatever. fuck them.

then they meet their new neighbour. you’re single—divorced, price would tell them later—whose life is centred around your 9 to 5 job at an office in the city which you wake up at 5am for.

you leave the house at 6:30am and then amble back home when it’s pushing 8pm. it’s a boring life; a boring routine. not even your little front lawn of cared-for wild flowers managed to hold their attention longer than a day.

so with that said, they’d like to go on a record and say that it’s all johnny’s fault.

friday evening, he started the game by saying, “she bought a baguette.” he paused. “and a bottle? it's shaped like lube?”

john blinked, setting his book down. “what.”

mactavish shrugged, still peering from the crack in the curtains. kyle walked in then, his apron all dirtied. “hey, i’m craving a baguette.”

johnny laughed and looked at price like price was supposed to get something from that. of course he didn’t, but johnny’s always been good at carrying the momentum so, to no one’s surprise, he repeats the observation three days after the previous one.

“bag’o coal and lemon bread. what the hell.”

“that’s a disgusting dinner combo,” kyle chirps, switching the channels.

simon throws a pillow at him because he had been watching a documentary about moths when kyle changed the program without asking him.

“it’s just monday,” john finally replies, cementing his participation in the game. “why’s she buying lem—did she not grocery shop?”

johnny looks at him, wide-eyed. “that’s a good question, sir.” then he turns, ignoring them again to peer at their neighbour. john’s sure you’re back in your home so he really doesn’t know what johnny’s watching at that point.

simon was successful at wrestling the remote control back to him, and the program’s returned to the moths.

.

thursday evening, two and a half weeks after monday’s lemon bread and bag of coal, the game picks up again.

“who the hell makes a rug purchase during the weekdays?” kyle asks, his voice teetering between fascination and concern.

“how long’s the rug?” johnny replies, all of them watching as kyle stands in front of that slip of window they now use for ‘bird watching.’

kyle spreads his arms out—2.5 ft.

“huh,” johnny says. “for the toilet, you reckon?”

“probably for the cat, actually,” simon cuts in.

“what cat.” john doesn’t even know who asked that, but really—what cat?

“a round thing,” simon answers. “grey fur.”

“aww,” johnny croons. “that’s cute.”

john sighs and turns back to the morning paper’s crossword puzzle for the day.

.

you don’t join the neighbourhood’s annual summer barbecue party much to their disappointment. although, in all fairness, john understands your decision because they wouldn’t have gone to it anyway had they not found out that the host this year was going to be that WASP couple who still sneered at them every chance they get.

the wife, of course, couldn’t turn them away in front of the other neighbours who particularly loved kyle and, shockingly, simon so there they are, eating what is begrudgingly some good ribs while listening to the neighbourhood gossip.

and while each story was riveting, nothing could honestly hold a candle to their ‘bird’ and your peculiar grocery runs.

.

one evening, you come home with a man. john tells them it’s your ex-husband, admitting to them that yes, he’s now used up their once-a-month pass to accessing ‘special’ resources with regards to finding more about you.

“think they’re fuckin’?” johnny asks, no longer feigning disinterest.

kyle groans because it had been more than a minute now since johnny dropped a card from his stack; they tried their best to be patient as they waited, thinking mactavish needed more time since, apparently, he’s never played cards before—growing up as a catholic boy, he’s always been told that any form of gambling was a gateway to eternal damnation.

john didn’t have the heart to tell him that you didn’t have to make bets to be able to play cards.

“maybe,” simon replies, ignoring kyle’s angry grumbling. “why else would she bring him home? her house ain’t really a wonder.”

“…how do you know that?” kyle asks, his words measured and slowed.

simon blinks, then he sniffs, before looking away.

“hey!” mactavish screams, catching on. “we agreed no tampering with anythin’ of ‘ers!”

“yeah? well tell ‘at to cap’n too—he was already there when i broke in.”

johnny turns to him with a theatrical betrayed look. kyle drops his head on the table because the game’s been fully abandoned now.

“sir,” johnny says, his voice airy like he’s speaking mid-gasp. “you didn’t.”

john licks the back of his teeth, then, “jus’ wanted to see ‘er cat, s’all.”

.

the ex-husband leaves three hours later with a familiar rug tucked to his side.

.

“huh,” simon murmurs, his voice so faint that john almost missed it. “tulips and tuna today.”

johnny and kyle would’ve loved the update but the two are away for the week.

john messages it to the group chat.

suds (19:21)

> holy shit she’s improving.

.

oddly enough, it took them six months since they moved in for them to finally talk to you.

or, well, for you to talk to them.

“i’m havin’ a yard sale tomorrow,” you say after the introductions have passed, your lips tugged up in a shy smile.

john honestly couldn’t even remember how he used to envision you—old age caught up to him and for a whole while, you were nothing but a coloured blob in his eyes since they turned out to be more damaged than expected—but whatever that had been was erased the moment you stood before them.

shy and awkward, your back slouched just a little like you’re trying to curl into yourself in the face of their rapt attention, but even then you’re beautiful.

“yeah?” kyle asks, smiling; the first to break out of the trance you put them into. “and would y’need help, pretty miss?”

“oh, you,” you murmur, strained laughter peeling from your lips. “and yeah, i do. would that be alright? i tried moving my old couch downstairs and my back almost gave out. i swear, i thought i was going to see the lord today.”

johnny laughs, loud and booming. “well we’re glad that you didn’t die today, otherwise who would take care of little truffle, huh?”

john barely stopped himself from heaving out a loud sigh, an attempt made more challenging when he caught the way kyle whirled his head to glare at mactavish, the act not any less subtle since it startled you too. simon grumbles something incoherent—it’s lost amidst johnny’s petering laugh and your swelling horror.

“…how, exactly, do you know my cat’s name?”

[fangswbenefits]

Book

Summary: Astarion comes across an interesting book and decides to share the knowledge with you. Quite literally.

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Warnings: 18+. Breeding kink. P in V. Vampire bite. Blood drinking. Creampie. Overestimulation. Cumplay.

Word count: 1.7k

It wasn't unusual for you to find yourself on your back, knees bent and legs spread apart as Astarion's hand worked diligently in between them.

“You know… I came across this book in Rivington."

Two fingers rubbed slow yet measured circles between your slick folds. His dexterity truly shined through in these moments, as he lured you closer and closer to the edge of your sanity.

“A book?” 

“A most interesting book.”

His lips pressed lingering kisses across the exposed side of your neck, and you struggled to keep your eyes fixed on his hand.

He adored it when you watched him deliver unprecedented pleasure, and the sight was positively maddening with your wetness coating both his fingers as lewd sounds echoed in your ears.

The cluster of pillows strategically placed behind you aided you to take in the view more clearly, and you couldn't help but moan softly.

Suddenly, you jolted at the feeling of one fang raking across your sensitive skin. “What of it?”

“Do you really want to know, darling?”

His purring voice alone could edge you so effectively that you had to grip the bedsheets under you, balling your fists and silently praying to the gods above to help you stay grounded.

“Yes…” you moaned, eyes nearly fluttering shut.

Astarion quickly bfound your pulse point and planted an open-mouthed kiss.

Just bite me… 

That would surely be your undoing, but he merely chuckled and you felt him smile.

“It spoke of dhampirs - half-vampires.”

Gods…

The implication that dangled from his silky words wasn't particularly subtle and you found yourself clenching around nothing.

“It is not an easy feat, but with the right amount of dedication and… perseverance,” he punctuated each word with a roll of his fingers, drawing soft whimpers from you. “... I'm quite certain we can explore it.”

You clenched again, and your legs faltered, almost dropping from the chill that ran down your spine.

He clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “No, no, my sweet. Keep your focus and your legs up high for me.”

Astarion thrived on your pleasure and basked in your praises.

He was good.

He knew he was good.

And he wanted you to show him.

Stroking his ego was a sure way to get his complete devotion.

The throbbing between your legs intensified tenfold and you could see it swollen and peeking through your folds as he dragged his drenched fingers all the way up to your lower abdomen.

“What do you say?” He purred in your ear, massaging you tenderly.

Another agonising clench.

You parted your lips in search of a reply, but the words died in your mouth at the sight of his fingers spreading your wetness across your skin.

“Well? Will you let me breed you?”

His crude words had you gripping the fabric in your hands tighter, and you wondered how much longer until it finally tore.

“Astarion…”

Slowly but surely, you felt something prickling at the skin on the back of your hand.

It was slightly cool and you needn't need to look to know his cock was leaking precum.

Just for you.

The liquid began dribbling down your skin as he began pressing soft kisses along your jawline.

Silently, he grabbed your hand until your fingers instinctively wrapped around his hardening cock.

And then he hissed.

“Tighter,” he urged, placing his hand atop yours to squeeze down hard. “You're tighter than this…” he finished with a sigh.

This time, you allowed your eyes to flutter shut as you rolled your hips in desperation.

He fucked your hand slowly, occasionally bringing your thumb to swipe across his tip, earning delicious and urgent moans from him.

Your breathing quickened and you felt the mattress shift under you as he carefully slid his cock from your grip, positioning himself on top of you.

“Eyes on me.”

You took a deep and shaky breath and your gaze dropped to witness an elegant finger disappear inside you.

A swift gasp escaped your throat and you couldn't stop yourself from clenching around him.

The corner of his mouth quirked up in an approving smile. “So eager…”

You were mesmerised by how he so easily slid a second one, the wet sounds nearly doing it for you.

He shifted until his cool lips were on yours, nipping at the lower one with the razor-like fang, easily drawing blood and gently suckling on the bruised flesh. 

Your back arched when he removed both fingers from you before pressing his cock at your entrance.

By this point, you were too soaked to offer any resistance as he slowly sank into you.

You broke the kiss first, greedily looking in between your bodies just so you could watch his cock slide in and out, bulging veins glistening with your wetness.

“Enjoying the view, darling?”

You bit down on your lip, tasting your own blood as you nodded through half-hooded eyes. 

Countless sweet rolls of his hips pushed you further and further along the inevitable precipice, and the familiar coiling and throbbing had your mouth drop open, unable to rein in your spilling whimpers.

He dipped his head to glide his tongue across your lower lip, both his arms caging you in and allowing him to angle his hips so he could sink fully into you.

You were visibly pulsing, your folds parted slightly, and his gaze soon followed yours.

A guttural grunt rumbled in his throat. “Let go, darling… and let me feel you tightening around me.”

You gripped his arms, bracing yourself for the impending wave of overwhelming bliss that took over your entire body, and through gasps and pants and moans, you plunged down the spiral of bliss.

A distant groan from Astarion was heard as your vision blurred, powerful contractions rippling through your lower half.

He was mumbling something, but you couldn't make out a single word, far too lost in your high to focus on anything else.

You felt his lips on your neck and you threw your head back, offering it fully to him.

As the waves of your contractions finally subsided, you came back to your senses, trying hard to even out your laboured breathing.

He was still buried deep inside you.

Had he come with you?

The answer came when his fangs began prodding the skin along your pulse point, as if barely containing himself.

He had yet to reach his peak.

“Can you give me another one?”

Your eyes widened and you struggled to form coherent words. “I… I don't… know.”

He brought one hand to grip your knee, pushing your leg against your torso, and spreading you further apart for him.

The pace he had set was contained and slow, a constant reminder that he yearned for his own release.

His tongue darted out to swipe across your flushed skin, and you turned your head, granting him easier access.

“Use your words.”

You swallowed, gasping from how oversensitive you suddenly felt from the constant friction in between your legs.

“Please…” you could only bring yourself to plead. 

His fangs taunted the fragile barrier of your skin, but not with enough pressure to draw blood.

“Use. Your. Words.” He rasped impatiently, punctuating each word with a snap of his hips.

You brought your hands to his chest, feeling the taut muscles tense under your touch. 

“Bite me…”

The sharp sting had you grip him hard, his hardened nipples digging into the palms of your hands.

As soon as he got to control the flow of your blood, he quickly matched the rolls of his hips with each mouthful of warm liquid he downed.

Your senses were full of him.

Filled with him.

Dragging on hand to settle on his throat, you moaned as you felt him under your palm, eagerly swallowing your blood.

It didn't take long before his skin began to heat up against yours, and you could almost swear you felt his cock hardening even more inside you.

His pace didn't falter. If anything, he was simply indulging in the newfound vigour that only your blood coursing through his body could provide.

Wanting to further tease him, you circled his nipple with the pad of your thumb, earning an approving grunt.

The crescendo of pleasure began to throb deep within you with each passing moment, and you felt him take one of your hands in his, dragging it down to settle where his body connected with yours.

He slid out just enough for your fingers to trace along the bulging and pulsing veins that slithered around his cock.

He quickly withdrew from your neck with a low, rumbling groan, his handsome face hovering yours, droplets of blood dripping from his lips onto yours, which you quickly swiped clean with your tongue, tasting the metallic aftertaste.

You kept teasing his nipple, feeding your own pleasure from how responsive he was.

Astarion was about to come undone, and you realised that having your blood dripping down his chin and neck, was enough to catapult you steadily yet rapidly into the heights of your own pleasure.

Your eyes watched his face twist beautifully as he reached his peak, mouth dropping agape in a raging growl that made you shudder.

Under the touch of your fingers, you felt the underside of his cock spasm rhythmically as he emptied himself inside you.

It was too much.

You felt some of his cum overflowing and staining your fingers, and you immediately dragged them to the pulsing swell between your folds, coating it in the warm liquid and gasping as the violent wave of bliss had you contracting around him.

Astarion buried his face in the crook of your neck as he cursed and whimpered and pleaded for you to have mercy on him.

You truly wished you could grant him such relief, but you were far too gone to be of any comfort as both of you rode out your peak.

With a final grunt from him and a moan from you, he slumped against you, cock still buried deep.

You pressed a hand to the back of his head, slipping your fingers along his damp and soft curls, cradling him in your embrace.

“Just so we're clear,” you began in between pants. “What are the chances of this actually happening?”

He didn't reply right away, instead pressing his lips to the bite marks on your neck, cleaning up the mess.

“Not that high, I reckon?” You managed to chuckle, raking your fingers along his scalp.

“Not high at all.”

Just as you had suspected.

“But we're so used to turning the impossible into possible, that I can't see why this should be any different.”

Oh.

Oh.

A/N: I'm... sorry.... hahaha

Masterlist

[hon3y-y]

──★ ˙🧷 ̟ !! maybe satoru got a little ahead of himself when he told you to throw away all of your vibrators…

cw : smut (surprised?), sex toys(again, is anyone surprised?), sub-ish!reader, dom-ish!satoru he’s more cheeky than anything, overstim & edging, etc etc…

*not edited*

when satoru was young and immature two weeks ago, he hated vibrators. maybe it was jealousy but when he found your little collection, he became a pouty mess. am i not good enough? do those make you feel better than i do? he even went as far as giving you the silent treatment, stating it was a ‘betrayal’.

you just rolled your eyes, taking his overreaction as immaturity and allowing him to throw his tantrum by himself. it didn’t last long, coming to its end one late saturday night where he climbed into the bed with a cheeky smile on his face.

“show me..” he mumbled, pressing kisses into the soft skin of your neck. his eyes were wide, pleading almost, lip tucked behind his teeth, his hands caressing your exposed skin and slowly unbuttoning the sleep shirt you wore.

“oh but i thought you wanted me to ‘throw all of them out’?” your words made him scoff.

“that wasn’t exactly what i said—“

“toru, i saw the tears in your eyes—“ before you could continue, his lips were on yours. it was rough, trying to shut you up which only made you smile. “you done being a big baby?”

satoru nods before moving to pull off your sleep shorts, “c’mon, i just wanna see”

so of course, that’s what got you into this predicament. you laying down with your head on the pillow while satoru lays on his stomach between your thighs, eyes glistening with mischief as he stares at your panty clad mound. Throughout the past couple of days, toru has made you use a couple toys to help get off, realizing extremely fast how it was becoming his new favorite hobby.

he took in how quick you were to cum, thighs clenching around the toy while you creamed, sticky substance leaving strings on your panties when he became impatient and pulled them off. it was almost addicting. you became so sensitive, eyes welling up when he began to fuck your swollen pussy, “s’too much!”

he just pounded into you harder, mockingly cooing at you. “oh, it’s too much? fine, i’ll stop.” satoru would pull out mid thrust, teasingly rubbing his fat tip against your clenching hole. he would do it until your legs wrapped around his waist to try and push him in, he smiled at the annoyance that came over you, still feisty even when being fucked dumb. “you’re so greedy—can’t ever make up your mind” shaking his head, toru would shove it back in while rubbing your clit making you squeal, an unusual reaction that he was growing accustomed to.

Those toys became his best friends and it was only a matter of time before he wanted to be in control of them. satoru personally loved your wand vibrator, pulling an orgasm out of you quick while also being used in so many different methods and positions. so it wasn’t a shocker that it was that one he picked.

you were comfortable, something he had been checking the whole time. He felt giddy, dick hard just from thinking about it. He made sure to start off slow and ease you into it, putting it on a low setting before teasingly dragging it up and down the crease of your panties, biting his lips after hearing your breath hitch whenever the tiny vibrations passed your aching clit.

“how does that feel, pretty girl?” he kissed your thigh softly, turning up the vibration to hear the gasp as you opened your mouth to speak.

“g-good!”

your words got choked up in your throat, hips bucking as he pushed it down on your bud. meanwhile, satoru watched in fascination as the damp spot on your panties grew bigger and bigger, mouth watering as he gently pressed his nose against it before his tongue lolled out to take a swipe. “satoru!” you gasped, hands moving to tug on his hair and pull it back, a heat climbing up your body in embarrassment.

he smiled sheepishly, turning up the vibrations another level which quickly made your hands loosen as your jaw fell open to let out a moan. “now's not the time to scold, dear~”

he pulls away, shutting off the vibrator while sitting on his knees. you felt a little light headed, eyebrows furrowing, “you're done?”

he shook his head, instead, pulling your panties down and flinging them across the room, fingers moving to play in your wetness before slowly dragging his soaked appendage to your clit to swirl around, “just lay back and relax your pretty little head. i know what i’m doing.”

he picked the vibrator back up, once again on its lowest setting and began using it to dip into your messy hole and spread the juices to the rest of your pussy. he felt like he was painting a pretty picture, eyes zeroing into his muse while his other hand wrapped around your thick thigh to pull it open.

he did this for a while, secretly watching and enjoying the way you were growing frustrated, pussy clamping around nothing as a frown overtook your lips. “toru—enough!”

he smiled, biting back a laugh at the whining. “fine..” you huffed, leaning back on the pillow.

you heard it before you felt it, the vibrations sounding stronger. you sat up, confused before the feeling of pure euphoria washed over you, causing your jaw to loosen and your eyes to cross and roll back. you felt like you couldn’t breathe, the stimulation almost too much, your hands moving to push it away, “too much! please—i can’t!”

but satoru just clicked his tongue, shaking his head in disappointment, “first it’s not enough, now it’s too much… this stupid thing can’t satisfy you, huh?” he pushes your hands away, positioning himself between your legs in a way that made it hard to shut them. “what do you think baby?”

finishing his sentence he began to move it up and down, the feeling making your stomach lurch and shedding some of the tears that gathered in your eyes. it felt too good, borderline brutal against your sensitive pussy.

you couldn’t even acknowledge his question, whimpers and pants filled the room along with mindless babbles of his name. “i’m—s’close! oh fuck—satoru! d-dont sto—p”

your hands claw at the sheets as you begin to tremble, your vision going blurry and the pressure in your stomach is released in pleasurable waves. you didn’t realize you had passed out until you feel a light tapping on your cheek causing your eyes to open slowly. At first, you’re too disoriented to focus. your vision is splotchy and your ears have a small ringing in them.

it takes a couple of seconds for you to register where you are and what just happened, finally taking in your surroundings. the first thing you see once your eyes adjust is satoru staring at you with a shocked grin. “babe..” he leaned down to kiss you, “–that was so hot” his hand reached between you two to pet at your cunt, cooing at the sharp intake of breath you had.

“let’s try again… i’ll leave it on a low setting, i promise” liar

safe to say toys became a frequent tool after that, even going as far as him ordering new ones to “try” including a cock-ring that leaves you both overstimulated, whiny, messes...

the end

a/n; two releases in one day??? who tf am i?? ik, it’s been soooo long but i didn’t have any inspiration</3 i honestly wanna right more sub!jjk characters so if anyone has any ideas they would like to present to the class PLEASEEE🙏 (especially nanami, cause i loveeee him)