#he uses bullets with his ability but…

[triplethewinds]

whatever you do don’t think about chuuya having to resort to using a gun to kill dazai

[originalartblog]

So can ada Chuuya and Dazai even touch each other any more. Like ada Chuuya’s ability is now amplification and Dazai’s nullification which lead to them creating a singularity if they touch right?

My boring answer is that No Longer Human cancels out any ability it comes in contact with, and wins, no exception. So Dazai touching Chuuya would just cancel his ability before it takes effect, preventing any funny reaction. No ability can affect Dazai after all.

After that there's the question of how this new ability works. I was thinking "always active" to match NLH, but it's true that the kid in the video seemed to activate it on demand. It's hard to say what the lab had done with him at that point though.

In any case, Chuuya keeps the gloves on because his ability works through touch, so it's easier to get used to it + not activate it by reflex during a fight and cause more chaos if he needs to take off the gloves first.

This isn't near the first ask or comment I have received about this specific topic, so if you have ideas for a fun singularity that could happen here, don't be shy! Let's all explore this together bring your ideas to the table

otherwise I said it before but the funny answer is that if Dazai touches Chuuya while he's using his ability they are subjected to the equivalent of a static shock and both start yelling and complaining about it

[karmicpunishment]

au in where about halfway through the war the soldier says “fuck this” and instead takes yosano with him and runs away from the war.

and when he gets back home and he finds that while he’s been presumed dead, his family’s been treating his little brother like shit, so he takes him with him too.

[spybiote]

Knives and guns are April's preferred tools, a choice stemming from her innate strength awareness. Trained as an adept assassin and marksman, she wields precision and cunning. Unbeknownst to most, April is a symbiote hybrid, her powers lurking as a last resort. A conscious choice made by Norman Osborn. Conditioning her to prioritize her marksmanship, preventing her symbiote side from overwhelming him.

[lilislegacy]

did anyone else ever find it odd how easily zeus offered percy godhood? and how it almost seemed like he secretly wanted percy to accept? well i did, and after thinking long and hard about it…

i don’t think percy understood what turning down godhood really meant

demigods do tasks for the gods because they don’t have to follow any rules. they aren’t controlled by anyone or anything. demigods are a strange hybrid - not god, not human. they are in between the laws of immortal and mortal. they are not supposed to exist. yet they do, which is what makes them so extraordinary.

percy is crazy powerful. of course, there’s the aspect of raw power. he has domain over air (storms/hurricanes), land (earthquakes and volcanic eruptions), and sea (monster waves, tsunamis, floods, basically anything that involves water.) he can control bodily fluids. he has super strength (with one hand, he held up an unconscious annabeth who was being pulled down by both arachne AND the forces of tartarus). he has super speed (he moves faster than bullets in TTC). no matter how badly you hurt him, he automatically heals and regenerates the second he touches water (an ability no other demigod has). he’s an extraordinary swordsman. very skilled in combat and warfare. he’s smart, and thinks of plans quickly. but he also has a great deal of social/poltcial power… i mean, he’s a leader and hero to both the greek and roman camps. if he says “attack,” all demigods, greek or roman, attack. no question. do you have any idea how threatening that is to the olympians? he’s also best friends and has an empathy link with the lord of the wild, which basically means all of nature is by his side too, including all land creatures. he’s also prince of horses, which means pegasi too (both of which are extremely useful in battle). and of course all sea creatures, including the mythical ones like krakens and leviathans. not to mention many of the gods really like him. hermes, hephaestus, athena, aphrodite, and dionysis have all gone out of their way to help him. artemis holds him in high regard, especially since he saved her. apollo literally considers him his friend! and poseidon - his dad, the god who is the biggest threat to zeus - is fiercely protective of him and cares about him a great deal. many minor gods also like him because he demanded them to be given more respect and for their kids to be welcomed at the camps.

percy unknowingly has more power, both physical and social/political, than anyone should ever have. he may have absolutely no idea, but it must scare the living daylights out of zeus. by accepting zeus’s offer to become a god, percy would have submitted himself to the control of zeus. zeus would be his king and ruler. zeus would then have complete control over him.

but percy said no. therefore, percy remains out of zeus’s control.

percy had no idea what he was doing. but thank the gods he made that choice. thank the gods he’s an incredible person. thank the gods percy jackson has no desire for power, because he has more of it than anyone should ever be able to have.

[long-live-astronerd-ghost-king]

DPXDC prompt: Friendly neighborhood forensic pathologist Danny Fenton is a new master of The Court of Owls? (Dead on main, of course) +Part 2: Talon Dick

Don’t underestimate what a ghost will do for a higher education. You see, it's the custom of the Fenton family not to run away from things they are afraid of but to face their fear. So Danny Fenton, who has learned to fear scalpels, steel clamps and surgical retractors, decides to do something about it and to dedicate his life to giving souls of those who died a violent death the final rest and justice they deserve.

Well, it didn’t really come to him at once. It started out as a simple joke:

Danny didn’t think he could continue his education after school. Frankly, his grades suck. However, Tucker for fun applied for a scholarship for gifted villains from Gotham University on his behalf.

And hell, they are willing to pay money for his education. Pay in full! Living in Park Row is also incredibly cheap. And with his flying ability, he’ll also save on transportation.

Danny is not a villain. And he’s not planning on becoming one. But he couldn’t lose that chance.

Why do you deserve this scholarship? “My parents are renowned ecto scientists, and I’ve seen their dissection work at its best. Medical school is expensive, and this scholarship will help me accomplish my goal of becoming a forensic pathologist and helping maintain the boundary between the world of the living and the world of the dead…or use it for my own ends. Of course.”

Well, Mr Two-Face was fully confident that despite his grades in the subjects, Danny was fully committed to achieving high academic achievement. Finally, work experience of Dan came in handy somewhere.

There were only few things about the death that Danny didn’t find on his own or from his ghost friends, so he managed to graduate in record time. Young Fenton thought he was lucky enough to get a job near Crime Alley. It was odd that the job was available. Even a new specialist like him was allowed to work full-time. And the salary was very decent.

~~~~~~

Danny: Yes, Jazz, everything is just fine. I found a great job and I’m trying to relax and find a hobby, you know. Started feeding the local birds. Apparently they were abused, the poor things are so shy and aggressive.

The local birds:

~~~~~~

Let’s say that a returned Jason as undead cannot be killed for forever. The stab wounds heal quickly, the bullet holes sometimes itch unpleasantly for a few days, but in general his regeneration is at a level with some metahumans. This is convenient. But when Red Hood wakes up in the morgue after a particularly severe injury, he’s not happy. Sometimes even looking in the mirror at his dissection scar is difficult for him. And this situation is a fucking nightmare. Danny: Oh. Are you awake now? I’m sorry I didn’t have time to put you on the couch, I didn’t have clean sheets and my assistant would have killed me because of the new stains. Red Hood: What the hell? I’m sorry?! It’s fucked up! I’d love to see you wake up on the dissection table. Danny: Been there Done that. But hey, I didn’t put you there. You didn’t get here on my shift, give me a break.

Jason: …So, what's now? Danny: Well, I can offer you tea or coffee. Of course, only after I sew up the hole in your stomach and give you a change of clothes. Or I could go after the documents and pretend I didn’t notice one of my bodies got away. But then don’t dream about novocaine blockade. Pretty liver by the way, you don’t see that much in crime lords. Jason: Um, thank you? But you’re weird. Usually people are praised for the beauty of the face or eyes rather than… Danny: Wow, now I feel attacked.You wake up in your helmet. I can’t compliment what I can’t see. Jason: Gee, I’m surprised your colleague hasn’t taken it off yet. Danny: And lose important evidence? It is not customary for us to put curiosity above professionalism.

~~~~~

Jason learns quickly that although Batman is willing to go anywhere to track him, there are always exceptions to the rule. The morgue was one of them. Not surprisingly, the emotional constipation and uncomfortable theme of Jason’s death worked like a perfect bat repeller. Over time, Jason becomes really interested in a guy who genuinely laughs at his death jokes and listens to his problems at work without judgment. Danny is too cute and nice.

Danny*works*: No visitors allowed here.

Jason: Unless you are a zombie, right?

Danny:...Still not one of your hideouts. The book is where you left it, make some tea if you want it.

~~~~~

Jason, once again delivered without a sign of life to Danny after the fight, woke up during pupillary reflex test.

Jason: Oh, beauty, you are just dazzling today.

Danny: As I thought, your regeneration didn’t cure your concussion before your resurrection. I’ll give you referrals for all the tests and examinations. And we really should stop seeing each other like this. Please take care of yourself.

Jason: I don’t think you have the right to prescribe them to me. Danny: Technically I do not. But we live in Gotham. And for some time the hospital where I work at night is very sensitive to my requests.

Red Hood: And why? Danny: It’s hard to explain… Red Hood: Doctor Handsome, I’ve been through some shit, so try to surprise me. Danny: Okay, okay. Look, you are a crime lord for not too long, right? But criminals and cops are afraid of you and kids and your henchmen really likes you. Jason: ..So what? Danny: Can you please recommend how to maintain a reputation but so your people aren’t afraid of you? Jason: Why do you need this information? Your assistant finally realized you’re friends with walking corpses? Danny: It’s not about that! Although, like.. you aren’t wrong? It’s complicated. I may, well, accidentally, honestly, have seized power over a local secret aristocratic criminal society.

Jason: Baby, please tell me everything. I have a restaurant as a front for a business nearby. It’s a date. Let's go. Danny: Let me finish a few stitches first, Jay.

~~~~~

Red Hood and Red Robin fight near Batman: Hood: Replacement was on patrol without permission! Red Robin: And Jason is dating the new owner of Court of Owls! Batman:.. he's doing WHAT? Jason, how could you take such a risk? it is completely unprofessional and Red Hood: At least he loves me for what’s inside me! Red Robin: Yeah, like a beautiful liver. It’s a great relationship base. Red Hood: I’m talking about my feelings and interests. Dumb lil stalker with a big mouth! I’ll teach you not to bother my boyfriend.

~~~~~

Henchman: Boss. We shouldn’t go into that area, the rumors are that there are Talons here. Red Hood: All under control, they won’t touch us. Henchman: How can you be sure? The poem says 'Beware The Court of Owls, that watches all the time, ruling Gotham from a shadow..' Red Hood: Yeah yeah "speak not a whispered word of them or they'll send The Talon for your head". I’m sleeping with their boss, of course I’m sure. Henchman: Boss, don’t kid like that. Red Hood: I don’t pay you for gossip. Let's go.

Dick, to whom the memories began to return, haunts Jason because he did not cut for Lil Wing apple slices like he likes for lunch: Talon came to finish the job. Henchmen: scream

~~~~~

Jason *shows Danny 'Red Flags' on youtube*: Hey, baby, want to be a little shit on our date? I know where Brucie Wayne’s having dinner tonight, so you can meet the family.

[extinctionstories]

On April 19th, 1987, a bird known as Adult Condor 9 was captured in the Bitter Creek National Wildlife Refuge, near Bakersfield, California. After decades ravaged by the threats of lead-poisoning and pesticide exposure, and intense debate over the ethics of captivity, it had been determined that captive breeding was the final hope to save a species. As his designation might suggest, AC-9 was the ninth condor to be captured for the new program; he was also the last.

As the biology team transported the seven-year-old male to the safety of the San Diego Wild Animal Park, his species, the California Condor, North America's largest bird, became extinct in its native range. It was Easter Sunday—a fitting day for the start of a resurrection.

At the time of AC-9's capture, the total world population of California condors constituted just twenty-seven birds. The majority of them represented ongoing conservation attempts: immature birds, taken from the wild as nestlings and eggs to be captive-reared in safety, with the intention of re-release into the wild. Now, efforts turned fully towards the hope of captive breeding.

Captive breeding is never a sure-fire bet, especially for sensitive, slow-reproducing species like the condor. Animals can and do go extinct even when all individuals are successfully shielded from peril and provided with ideal breeding conditions. Persistence in captivity is not the solution to habitat destruction and extirpation—but it can buy valuable time for a species that needs it.

Thankfully, for the California condor, it paid off.

The birds defied expectations, with an egg successfully hatched at the San Diego Zoo the very next year. Unlike many other birds of prey, which may produce clutches of up to 5 hatchlings, the California condor raises a single chick per breeding season, providing care for the first full year of its life, and, as a consequence, often not nesting at all in the year following the birth of a chick. This, combined with the bird's slow maturation (taking six to eight years to start breeding), presented a significant challenge. However, biologists were able to exploit another quirk of the bird's breeding cycle: its ability to double-clutch.

Raising a single offspring per year is a massive risk in a world full of threats, and the California condor's biology has provided it with a back-up plan: in years when a chick or egg has been lost, condors will often re-nest with a second egg. To take advantage of this tendency, eggs were selectively removed from birds in the captive breeding program, which would then lay a replacement, greatly increasing their reproduction rate.

And what of the eggs that were taken? The tendency of hatchlings to imprint is well-known, and the intention from the very beginning was for the birds to one day return to the wild—an impossibility for animals acclimated to humans. And so, puppets were made in the realistic likeness of adult condors, and used by members of the conservation team to feed and nurture the young birds, mitigating the risk of imprintation on the wrong species.

By 1992, the captive population had more than doubled, to 64 birds. That year, after an absence of five years, the first two captive-bred condors were released into their ancestral home. Many other releases followed, including the return of AC-9 himself in 2002. Thanks to the efforts of zoos and conservationists, as of 2024 there are 561 living California condors, over half of which fly free in the wilds of the American West.

The fight to save the California condor is far from over. The species is still listed as critically endangered. Lead poisoning (from ingesting shot/bullets from abandoned carcasses) remains the primary source of mortality for the species, with tagged birds tested and treated whenever possible. Baby condors are fed bone chips by their parents, likely as a calcium supplement—but, to a condor, bits of bone and bits of plastic can be indistinguishable, and dead nestlings have been found with stomachs full of trash.

There's hope, though. There are things we can change, things we can counteract and stop from happening in the future. It was a human hand that created this problem, and it will take a human hand to fix it. Hope is only gone when the last animal breathes its last breath—and the California condor is still here.

-

This painting is titled Puppet Rearing (California Condor), and is part of my series Conservation Pieces, which focuses on the efforts and techniques used to save critically endangered birds from extinction. It is traditional gouache, on 22x30" paper.

[a-b-riddle]

Okay, but having to explain “the bear vs the man trend” to the 141.

CW: Sexism, harm against women.

Johnny’s immediate reaction is the man. “The man’d be easier to kill. Dinnae ken if I could fight a bear.” He answers. “But what kind of bear is it?”

You have to explain that killing either is not an option. The prompt is would you feel safer in the woods with a man or a bear.

Gaz asks if the man is armed because that could play into a factor for him. You say both have the ability to inflict harm to you and kill you. Now you just straight up ask which one?

Simon would unfortunately understand why you chose the bear, but waits until you have to spell it out for the others.

"As a woman, the worst thing a bear could do to me was kill me." You explain. You tell them about some of the other things women felt when choosing a bear.

The bear would look at me and see a human.

The bear would kill me for survival. The man would kill me for pleasure.

I trust my dead body with a bear more than I do a man.

They say nothing as you read the reasonings out loud. They understand your reasoning and the subject changes.

It's not until it's close to ten in the evening that you see Captain who was the coincidentally missing turning the hangout with the others earlier.

"Captain," you greet. "Is everything okay?" You can't help but notice the crease between his brows. The worried look in his eyes that gives him away.

“Just, a quick question if you don't mind." He said, waiting for confirmation to continue. You nod, curious as to why he had come all the way to your barracks.

"I spoke to the lads and well-" He clears his throat. "Hypothetically, if we were in the woods,” Price began, feeling foolish for asking you, but needing to know. “You’d pick us? Knowing it was us and who wer are. Right?” His question was more than just would you choose them over the bear.

Did you trust them?

In truth, you trusted them with your life. They had your back time and time again and you just never got that vibe from them. They were never "boys being boys" in the same way you had grown up knowing men to be.

"Boys being boys" around here was when one of the shadows had made a sexist remark so Johnny sneaking into their bathrooms and giving one of their three toilets an upper decker.

Ghost had played bodyguard after that, ensuring none of them dared to fuck with you.

Kyle had went into psychological warfare by finding pictures of the women they had back home and printing out the photos and hanging them up all over the base.

And Price had some choice words with Graves ensuring that the next one of his men to step out of line would get a fucking bullet to the head.

There weren't many men in this world who ever made you feel safe not only as a fellow soldier, but as a woman.

"Yeah," you reply. "I'd choose you."

[seaskate]

I always hate it when I see in fics and videos where people try to make it seem like Dazai was trying to make Akutagawa a killing machine while he was in the mafia, when it was actually the opposite. Akutagawa came to Dazai already a killer even at the age of fourteen (according to the Beast light novel) and Dazai was trying to teach him not to just kill everyone around him.

He wanted Aku to learn to bring in prisoners instead of corpses and to use his ability to defend himself instead of just attacking (like with the bullets).

I’m not saying that he did it the right way, like at all at all, but he wasn’t trying to make a killing machine either. We learn in Dark Era that he had great hopes for Akutagawa, hopes that Aku couldn’t meet just by killing everyone in his way without thought.

So he gave Akutagawa Atsushi, someone that will watch his back when he doesn’t think to do so himself and will be the safety on the gun for him, knowing when not to shoot.

In turn Akutugawa is all but beating the self loathing out of Atsushi, talking about how much he hates the way that Atsushi asks for permission to live. He makes Atsushi more ruthless and willing to do what is needed (like in dead Apple when Atsushi said that the Agency doesn’t kill and then pulls a gun on Akutagawa).

A killing machine was never in the cards.

[incognit0slut]

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3| PART 4

Behind Closed Doors 4

Your frustration over his broken promise melts away as soon as he calls, and you find yourself unexpectedly drawn to his voice, more than you anticipated.

Warnings: (18+, MDNI) Phone sex, mutual (and guided) masturbation, dirty talk ~4.7k words

A/n: this is just me wishing he was on quinn😔 anyway enjoy part 4, this mini series is not dead (i don’t even know how long it will be but let’s just celebrate that I’m finally updating)

All men do is lie, you thought as you flopped onto your bed.

Okay, maybe it wasn’t entirely his fault—but you weren’t in the mood to be reasonable. You remembered that car ride vividly. He had promised you more time together, a moment to finally be alone. Instead, what did you get? A new case, then another, and amidst all the chaos and dodging bullets (literally and metaphorically), you two somehow managed to drift apart.

The past few weeks had been the busiest since you started working at the BAU, and that was saying a lot, considering there was never really a moment of peace when you worked for the government. But this time was different, it seemed even more chaotic than usual. Every time you thought of bringing up the conversation with him—or maybe sneak in a little make-out session—something urgent would come up. 

There was never the right time, or the right moment. It felt as if the universe had other plans for you, and none of them involved the two of you getting a moment alone. And before you knew it, you were caught in this maddening cycle of missed opportunities, and the worst thing was, you were sexually frustrated.

This time, you had no one else to blame but him. Ever since he came into the picture, your carefully maintained self-control had started to slip, and now, despite your best efforts, you couldn’t ignore the growing need between your legs. It was aching, throbbing, and even the thought of him was making you hot and restless.

How did he manage to do that? He wasn’t even trying. There was nothing overtly seductive in the way he moved or spoke, and yet every glance, every accidental touch, seemed to affect you. Spencer. Just his name made your breath hitch, your body betraying you. You weren’t proud to admit this, but the mere thought of his fingers brushing your skin had you feeling that first rush of arousal slipping into your panties.

You huffed, considering digging out your pink silicone toy hidden somewhere in your drawer. And while you were contemplating this, knowing it had been a while since you last used it because nothing could compare to the feeling of his touch now, your phone on the bedside table rang.

Maybe the universe was really testing you, because his name flashed across the screen and it took a lot of self-control for you not to pick up on the first ring and demand him to fuck you right there and then, which sounded too crass when you weren’t in the middle of straddling his lap like the last time. So instead, you decided to wait until the sixth ring before you answered with a curt, “Hey.”

There was a pause, then a sigh. “You’re mad at me.”

Could he tell? Of course, he could. He always had an uncanny ability to read you, even over the phone. “Mad? Why would I be mad?”

“I can almost see you rolling your eyes.”

“I never roll my eyes,” you shot back.

“You rolled your eyes last week when Luke tried to tell us that his dog could sniff out bodies better than our trained ones.”

You suppressed a smile, surprised that he even noticed you giving Luke a once-over at that particular moment. “That was because his dog chases its tail more than it chases leads.”

"And I'm not worthy of an eye roll?"

“Honestly, you deserve more than an eye roll,” you blurted out before you could stop yourself.

"So you are mad,” he stated, growing quiet for a while. “I’m sorry.”

And now you felt bad. You ran a hand through your hair, trying to clear your thoughts. “It’s not your fault.”

“I know, but it doesn’t make me feel any less better.”

You felt a pang of guilt as you stared at the ceiling. It wasn’t exactly fair to blame him. Serial killers, unfortunately, didn’t come with a schedule, and now Spencer was already on his leave. You recalled the excitement in his voice when he told you about the seminars Emily had arranged for him to teach. He had spoken with an enthusiasm you hadn’t heard in a long time, his eyes practically lighting up every time he mentioned it.

How could you be upset about that?

"I'm not... mad.”

There was a slight teasing note in his voice as he replied, "Just annoyed then?"

You held back a smile. "Maybe a little."

“Anything I can do to help with that?” His voice softened through the phone. “Is there any way I can make it up to you?”

Your thoughts immediately went to the sticky situation between your legs, and you felt a flush of embarrassment. Technically, he could help with that. But could you say that? Should you? 

"I don’t know, depends on what you have in mind,” you replied, trying to steer your mind away from the direction it was heading. There was a pause, a silence that hung in the air as he carefully considered his next words.

"I could… start by telling you how much I miss you?”

Now that, you didn’t expect. Your heart fluttered wildly in your chest. Spencer had never really acknowledged his feelings with words when his actions spoke volumes, but hearing him say it out loud made the emotions between you feel undeniably real. It was as if his words shattered whatever platonic friendship the two of you had built over the past years.

Although you knew your friendship had fundamentally changed the moment he had you pinned on the desk that fine afternoon, it didn’t stop you from questioning about where you truly stood.

"You miss the idea of me," you corrected him, unable to resist yourself.

“You know that’s not true,” he replied gently.

“Do I?”

“Yes, you know me better than that,” he insisted. “You’re a great profiler, you can tell if I’m not being honest.”

A small smile tugged at the corners of your mouth, despite trying to stay mad at him. "You hate being profiled.”

"That was before I realized how useful your skills are in deciphering my feelings.”

“You know I’d rather you tell me how you feel.”

“I did, I miss you, and you chose not to believe me.”

Your cheeks actually ached from smiling too much. You couldn’t help but feel a warm, tingling sensation spread through you. “Fine,” you sighed, finally giving in. “I believe you.”

“And?”

You rolled onto your side. “And what?”

“Do you not miss my absence at work?”

“Well…”

“Well?” He prompted.

Now how could you tell him you missed more than just his presence? How could you admit that you missed the way he made you feel, the way his breath felt hot against your skin, without sounding obvious or too needy? Because you missed everything about him. His hands, his lips, his tongue—oh dear god, his tongue.

Spencer suddenly called out your name, and you forced yourself to focus, feeling your heartbeat quicken as you cleared your throat.

“Yes, I—I miss you,” you finally admitted.

There was a pause, then his voice came through, lighter, teasing. “Why do you sound like that?”

“…like what?”

“Like you’re out of breath.”

You gripped the sheets tightly, the fabric bunching under your fingers. How could you even begin to explain this to him now that he was onto you? You felt like you were on the verge of a full-blown emotional meltdown. God, if he knew how many times you’d replayed every kiss, every touch, in your mind, he’d never let you live it down.

It was almost laughable, really. Here you were, trying to keep it together, and failing miserably. “It’s just… I really, really miss you.”

“You really miss me? Are you trying to say something?”

You hesitated, your mind scrambling for the right words without revealing too much. “No…?”

“Mhm,” he replied, clearly unconvinced. “You’re not telling me everything.”

You gripped the phone tighter. “I’m just saying... It's hard without you here. You know, in every way.”

“In every way?”

You squeezed your eyes shut, feeling both embarrassed and mortified. “I just... I miss how you make me feel. Physically.”

“Physically?” he pressed. “Can you elaborate?”

“I’m... you know, I’ve been... missing certain things. Certain... activities.”

“Certain activities,” he repeated your words once again. It was then that you realized he was teasing you, clearly enjoying your discomfort a little too much. “You mean like... talking?”

“No. More like... the other stuff we do when we’re alone.”

"I don't understand."

At that point, your embarrassment was gnawing at you. You wanted to crawl into a hole and never come out. “God, Spencer, don’t make me say it,” you groaned, burying your face in your pillow.

“Come on, I need a little more than that.” He sounded both amused and curious. “I’m just making sure I understand you right.”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” you muttered into the pillow, your voice muffled but still clear enough for him to hear.

“Actually, I don’t think I do. You could be missing so many things, you have to help me out here.”

You turned your head to the side, exasperation coloring your tone. “Spencer…”

"Yes?" he responded innocently.

"You’re really going to make me say it, aren’t you?”

"I find precise communication to be very important.”

You let out a groan, feeling the last of your restraint crumble. “Alright! Fine!” you snapped. “I’m horny, okay? And it’s all your fault!”

His laughter rang through the phone, and you could almost see the grin spreading across his face. “My fault?"

"Yes! I feel like a deprived, horny teenager here, and I just…”

You trailed off, hardly believing you had actually said that out loud. The realization hit you like a wave, and for a moment, you wished you could take it back. There was a pause that seemed to stretch on forever and you wondered if you had gone too far.

He finally broke the silence, breathing out your name in a way that made your skin tingle. "You could've told me from the start."

You could, but you’d rather not.

"I didn't want to sound desperate."

"You can be desperate with me,” he said softly. “Just say the word and I’ll give you anything you want.”

If there was one thing Spencer was good at, it was getting under your skin. He really shouldn’t be saying those words, not now, not when it was making you crave him even more. You swallowed, feeling a tightness in your chest, a knot in your stomach. The part of you that always played it safe wanted to retract, to laugh it off as a joke. But then there was that other part, the part that craved his attention, the part that was tired of holding back.

“Tell me, what do you want now?”

You took a deep breath and laid on your back, the words catching in your throat. You felt your pulse quicken.

“I want… you.”

“Tell me how you want me.”

Your fingers trailed over the sheets, your touch light as you imagined it was him beneath your fingertips. “Spencer…”

“Come on,” he pressed. “Tell me.”

You paused, your heart pounding in your chest. You could almost imagine him right in front of you, staring at you with those beautiful brown eyes that always managed to make you melt, coaxing words from you that you barely dared to think, let alone speak.

Just say it. He's waiting. He wants to hear it.

Your hand began to move.

“I… I want your hands on me.”

“Where do you want my hands?”

“Everywhere,” you whispered, your fingers grazing your body as if they were his. You closed your eyes.

“Everywhere?”

You found yourself nodding even though he couldn’t see you.

“On my hips…”

Your hand danced across your hips.

“My stomach…”

Your palm slipped under your shirt, moving slowly up your abdomen, feeling the warmth of your own touch and wishing it was his.

“Between my thighs…”

You paused at the hem of your panties, the only barrier beneath your shirt, hesitating as a flush of warmth spread through you. The line was silent for a moment, save for the sound of his breathing—a soft, heavy rhythm that matched the pounding of your own heart.

“Where else do you want me?”

Your fingers dipped inside the fabric. “I want you lower…”

“Tell me exactly where.”

“Where I’m most sensitive,” you confessed, the words slipping out before you could stop them.  Your thighs instinctively squeezed together, hips rolling gently as your free hand began to drift south. “Spencer… please…”

“Are you touching yourself?”

“I…”

“Are you?”

“No…”

“Do you want to touch yourself?”

You licked your lips, your breath coming faster. “Maybe.”

“Then do it, no one’s stopping you.”

You hesitated, the reality of the situation sinking in. You couldn’t believe this was happening, that you were having this conversation with him. "This feels so naughty.”

"Naughty can be nice, though, right?" he assured you. "Don't think about it too much. It’s just you and me.”

There really was something about his voice, the way it effortlessly wrapped around you—smooth, coaxing, almost hypnotic. Despite the hesitation that tugged at your mind, your hand began to move lower, and your legs parting involuntarily. A soft gasp escaped your lips when your hand flew right to your pussy, fingers quickly tracing the length of your folds. You were already wet, and you began to spread your arousal towards your clit.

“Spencer…” you whined, feeling the sudden rush of sensations.

“Keep going,” he urged. “Tell me what you feel.”

You closed your eyes. “It feels… good…”

“Describe it to me.”

You took a shaky breath, trying to find the words through the haze of pleasure. “It’s warm and wet… and…”

And you wished he was the one touching you.

You let your mind drift to your fantasy. You imagined it was his fingers circling your clit. You imagined his lips against yours, the way they would move together. You imagined him whispering these words right in front of you, his eyes locked on yours as you writhed beneath him. The fantasy felt so vivid that for a moment, you could almost feel his weight pressing down on you, his presence enveloping you completely.

Your imagination urged you to move faster, but you felt limited by the fabric in the way. You called out his name. “Can I… can I take my, um, underwear off?”

You could almost hear the smile in his voice as he replied, “Of course you can.”

You put your phone down, and with trembling fingers, you slid the fabric down your legs. You discarded them quickly and turned the call to speaker before you settled back on the bed. Your hand returned to your body, fingers brushing over your sensitive skin. You parted your legs even wider, and as your fingers found their rhythm, a moan escaped you.

“Better?”

You sighed in relief as you continued to rub your clit. “So much better.”

“Keep it slow, okay? We don’t want to rush.”

His voice was low and soothing, and you couldn’t believe how just by his voice he had gotten you so worked up.

“Now press a little harder.” You complied, applying a bit more pressure on your clit. "Right there. Do you feel that?"

"Yes," you gasped, your back slightly arching off the bed.

“I wish I could see you right now," he murmured. “I'd kiss you where you're touching.”

You let your imagination take over. You pictured him with his head right between your thighs, his eyes locked on yours with those intense, pretty eyes. You imagined his mouth moving over your clit, sucking gently while his fingers explored between your folds. The thought was so vivid, so real, that you could almost feel his warm breath against your skin.

The mental image of him looking up at you was almost too much to bear. “Spencer…”

"Keep going. Are your fingers wet?" You could simply moan back a reply, not trusting your own voice. “Now slowly slide in one. Can you do that for me?”

You did as he said, sliding a finger into your wetness. You could feel how tight you were, the slick warmth of your arousal enveloping your skin. You looked down between your legs and watched as you pleased yourself. It wasn’t exactly an unfamiliar sight. You had done this countless times before, but never with the voice of a man guiding you, especially Spencer—the last person you’d imagine doing this with.

Yet look at how much effect he had on you.

"You're quiet," his voice suddenly came through. "Are you still with me?"

"Yes," you managed to whisper. "It's just... a lot."

"In a good way, I hope?"

“Very good,” you assured him.

You could practically picture the corner of his lips twitching into a proud smile. “Good,” he recited. “Now try adding another finger.”

You couldn't help a moan escaping your lips as you pushed in your middle finger, the sound louder than you intended.

"How does that feel?"

"Full," you breathed out, adjusting to the sensation.

“Yeah? I bet you’re so tight.”

You were, awfully so. Your walls clenched around your fingers, almost swallowing them as you started to move them in a steady rhythm. The pleasure built in your lower stomach, a warm, coiling tension that made you desperate for more. You needed his voice, you craved his guidance, even from afar.

“Spence…” you whined. “Keep talking, please.”

“You want me to describe how I’d touch you if I were there?”

You moaned in response, the sound escaping your lips involuntarily, urging him to continue.

“If I were there,” he began, his voice low, “I’d start by kissing you slowly.”

You could almost feel it, his lips on yours, his tongue probing inside your mouth.

“I’d move lower,” he continued. “Kiss your neck, your collarbone… while my fingers would move along your hips, your thighs, getting closer and closer to where you need me most.”

You whimpered, your fingers moving faster as you followed his vivid description, imagining his touch guiding you.

“I’d tease you, brush my fingers right at your entrance,” he whispered. “Then, I’d slip them inside you, just like you’re doing now.”

Your breaths came in short gasps.

“I’d spread your legs wide,” he continued again, and you heard a faint rustling noise in the background. “I’d move my fingers in… and… out...”

Your legs fell further apart.

“I’d curl my fingers the same way I did that day,” he went on. “Do you remember?”

How could you not? It never truly left your mind. You could picture that day clearly, the feeling of his fingers and mouth working on your sensitive spot seemed to linger in your memory.

“I’d do the same thing that you like,” he proceeded, and you focused on his voice. “I’d lean in close… licking you… sucking you.”

You moaned loudly as the image of his mouth on your clit flashed through your mind. You could almost feel the way he would sloppily lap at you, drinking in every drop of your arousal with each eager flick of his tongue.

“Go faster for me,” he urged. “I-I want to hear how wet you are.”

You followed his words, and the slick sounds of your arousal filled the quiet around you as you imagined him there, his fingers replacing yours. You could hear more noise through the line, the subtle rustle of clothes moving, the faint sound of his breathing growing heavier before he let out a low grunt.

“You make the prettiest sounds,” he breathed out. “Now add another finger.”

Your eyes narrowed into a frown, trying to slip a third finger in but the stretch was too intense for you to continue. “I-I can’t.”

“Shh, it’s okay,” he soothed. “Just take it slow. Try to relax.”

You took a deep breath, trying to follow his instructions. You slowly eased in another finger, feeling the awkward stretch but the initial discomfort quickly faded into a deeper pleasure, and you moaned softly.

“Oh, fuck.”

“There you go,” he encouraged. “Feel that? Feel how full you are?”

You hummed a reply.

“That’s how I want you to feel when I’m finally inside you.”

A whine left your lips. In your head, you saw him, his body poised above yours, his cock sliding smoothly into you. You imagined the slick, rhythmic motion, the way each thrust would fill you, stretching you, overwhelming you. You cried out a filthy moan at the thought, unabashed and desperate, as you began to pump your fingers inside your cunt.

“Push deeper for me… I know you can take it.”

You gasped, pushing your fingers as deep as they could go. “I can’t… I need… oh…”

“I know, I know,” he whispered. “You need more. You need me inside you, don’t you?”

“Spencer, please…” you begged, your voice breaking into desperate, choked sobs.

“You want that? You want to feel me stretch you?”

“Yes, yes…” you managed to moan out, your movements became more desperate.

“God, you’d be so tight around me… I’d have your legs spread wide so I… I-I could see how perfect you’d take me.”

You could almost feel his hands on your hips, his body pressing against yours, filling you completely. Your fingers moved frantically, your breaths coming in short, ragged gasps as you felt the tension building to an unbearable peak.

“You’d pull me closer, wouldn’t you? You’d ask for more, like you always do, and I’d give it to you,” he promised. “I’d give it to you so hard… s-so deep…”

And that was when you heard it—the unmistakable sound of wetness, like skin sliding over slick, damp skin. The sound was filthy, making your pulse race as you wondered what he might be doing on the other end of the line. Your voice trembled as you slowly asked him, “Spence, are you…?”

There was a sharp intake of breath on the other end before he let out a soft, almost sheepish laugh, as if you had caught him red-handed. “I… yeah,” he admitted, his voice breathless and strained. "Do you know how hard it is not to when listening to your voice?"

Your fingers subconsciously quickened at his confession, their movements becoming more urgent as you imagined him laying on his own bed, hand wrapped around his cock. You bit your lip to stifle your moans as you whispered, “Tell me what you’re doing.”

His breathing grew ragged, his words coming in clipped bursts. “I’m… I’m touching myself…”

You tried to focus on his voice, but the sound of his sloppy strokes began to echo louder. “Tell me more.”

“I’m… I’m rubbing… my fingers over the head,” he gasped, and you curled your fingers deeper, using your palm to grind against your clit. The way he sounded so lost in his pleasure, unable to hold back, had you imagining him stroking himself. You pictured yourself doing it for him, remembering how it felt that day when you had his cock in your hand—the weight, the warmth, the way he looked at you through intense eyes.

Your breathing grew heavier, louder, and his voice cracked with a strained moan as he whispered, “Can you lower your phone?”

You fumbled with the device, bringing it closer to where your fingers worked tirelessly between your legs. “Like this?”

“God, yes,” he groaned, the sound of his strokes growing faster and more urgent. “You sound so perfect.”

You let out a soft cry, your fingers thrusting in and out of your cunt frantically as you imagined him watching you, listening to every sound you made. The wet, slick noises filled the room, so intense and filthy. You looked down to see your juices spilling over your fingers, soaking the sheets beneath you. The sheer sound of it was enough to drive him crazy.

“I—f-faster, please,” he panted into the phone. “I need you to go faster.”

Your eyes widened for a moment as the desperate plea slipped from his lips. But you didn’t have the mental space to think about it. Your focus was solely on reaching your release as you ultimately sped up your pace. Your body began to tighten up, feeling so much pressure and pleasure building up every time your fingertips hit that deep spot inside you.

"Oh—fuck!” You exhaled sharply as the familiar sensation took over you. “I’m cumming I’m cumming I’m cumming—”

With a cry that was both a sob and a shout, your pussy fluttered around your fingers. Your orgasm ripped through you without warning, sending shockwaves of intense pleasure through your body as you gasped and shuddered. Your voice escaped in broken moans and whines, his name falling from your lips like a prayer.

“Spencer… oh, God, Spencer…”

The sound of your climax drove him to his own release. His breath hitched, his movements faltering as he let out a harsh sound from his throat. It was raw and unrestrained, downright filthy, and you listened intently, your fingers slipping out only to circle and rub your clit, drawing out the final waves of your orgasm.

Finally, when you couldn’t take it anymore, your hand fell away, and you lay there, breathing heavily, your body relaxing into the bed. Your room was quiet afterward, the only sound coming from was the sound of your own breathing. Then you heard him calling out your name, checking in. But through the post-orgasmic bliss, all you could manage in response was a giggle.

“You’re… laughing?” He mused. “Should I be concerned?”

“No, no,” you replied, still catching your breath, a satisfied smile spreading across your face. “It’s just… I can’t believe we did that.”

A gentle laugh escaped his lips, a warm, soothing sound that calmed your racing heart. "Did you like it?"

You liked it a lot. "Can’t say that I didn’t.”

"So I take it you're not mad at me anymore?"

You let out a soft, contented sigh. “I wasn’t even that mad to begin with. Just… frustrated,” you confessed. “But I think we handled that pretty well.”

“Maybe a little too well,” he agreed softly. “I can't believe I need to take a shower this late.”

You looked down between your legs at his words, and a wave of embarrassment washed over you as you noticed the patch of wetness on your bed. It wasn't small—it spread across the fabric in a noticeable, damp stain. “Uh, yeah,” you admitted with a nervous laugh. “I also need to change my sheets.”

Then you heard a low, almost pained groan from his end of the line.

“What?”

“It’s just…” He paused, and you could almost hear him struggling to find the right words. "I'm now picturing you on your bed."

"Isn't that what you've been doing?"

"Well, yes, but now it's… different."

You couldn't help the amused grin that spread across your face. "Different how?"

"Let's just say the image in my mind is a lot more detailed now and it's not helping me calm down."

A burst of laughter erupted from your chest as you gripped your phone closer to you. “Is this your way of blaming me because you still have a hard-on?” you taunted. “I mean, I’m simply stating the facts.”

“But you’re painting a picture in my head.”

“Of me drenching the sheets just by hearing your voice?”

He made a low, strained sound. “Stop.”

“I can send you a picture if you like,” you offered slyly. “Help you visualize it better.”

There was a moment of stunned silence on his end before he finally muttered, “You shouldn’t.”

“You’re right, I shouldn’t.”

“But if you insist…”

You laughed softly. “Good night, Spencer.”

“Wait—You’re hanging up?”

“Yep,” you said cheerfully. “I thought you needed a shower.”

He made another frustrated sound, somewhere between a groan and a sigh, before reluctantly agreeing. “Fine, fine. Good night.”

And that was it. You ended the call with a satisfied smile. But as you stared at your phone, a rush of thoughts began to swirl through your mind. You were well aware of the potential risks of what you were about to do—how it could be traced back to you. You could almost hear Penelope lecturing you about online security and the dangers of leaving a digital footprint.

But when your mind kept circling back to Spencer—Spencer’s breathless voice, Spencer’s prominent veins on his hands, Spencer with a freaking hard-on in his bed—it was hard to think rationally. Before you could stop yourself, you propped your phone on your pillow and posed for the camera. Legs spread wide, your nipples pressing against your shirt, a flirtatious smile playing on your lips. The shot looked like it came out of a porno movie. You quickly sent it to him.

It took exactly 7 seconds before your phone rang again.

“Yes, Spencer?” you answered, trying to sound innocent.

You heard shuffling and a muffled grunt, and then, faintly, the rustling of fabric. It sounded like he was fumbling with his phone, and you couldn’t help but bite your lip at the frustration in his voice.

“How do I turn this into video call again?”

[jnece-maharlika]

Danny accidentally becomes the Ghost king, The president and the BIGGEST threat to Bruce's social status.

Pt 1 Danny becomes the Ghost king

"Fenton's were never allowed to have a "normal" life, we are either extremely successful or extremely unsuccessful, there is no in between. Maybe a spirit cursed us back in the days, but who knows, but one things for sure, all Fenton's will definitely make the news."

-Grandma Fenton from whatever generation

Danny's starting to believe that now. He used to think that it wasn't true, but now? He used to wish to have a normal life, be a good normal son with good grades an be an astronaut one day.

But like they said, a Fenton is either EXTREMELY SUCCESSFUL OR EXTREMELY UNSUCCESSFUL.

He was EXTREMELY UNSUCCESSFUL in that.

Instead of a normal life he turned a half ghost teen superhero. But oh well, the Fenton's were also known for their ability to go with the flow

But how in the world did the flow get him here???

In Danny's defense, he wasn't really expecting this. The only thing in his mind at the moment was keeping his town and his people safe from pariah. He just wanted to get rid of the rotten fruitloop. He was EXTREMELY SUCCESSFUL, so successful in fact that he ended up becoming Ghost king.

The fudge????

But okay, sure, he didn't wanna become king but if he also didn't want to give up the crown for others to take, what if an evil person becomes king and attacks amity again?? Fine, he'll be king, he'll figure it out. Just go with the flow.

Surprisingly, not only did he get the crown, he also got THE MONEY. as in literal gold and silver bars, coins and jewelry. Appearantly, one the kings a long long time ago, before at least two generations before pariah had an obsession with MONEY. So the king made a Permanent Royal Degree (a law that cannot be changed by any future kings) that when someone dies and becomes a ghost, 20% of the MONEY that they've acquired in their entire life. (The money turns into an equivalent of ghost currency in the realms but is still physically in the living. Kind of like how the soul is in the realms but the body is the earth. Also, the only reason money exists in the realms is for convenience and a sense of normalcy, it doesn't really have that much value unless the ghosts brings it to the living) would belong to the ghost king.

Basically, it's ghost taxes that only have to be paid once for the entire afterlife. (Or is it more of an entrance fee???)

But anyways, hes got the MONEY.

He's rich now and he thinks, "I have so much money it's disgusting"

So first things first, getting rid of some of it.

By this point, his parents know he's phantom and have changed their opinions on ghosts, instead of attacking they are now looking at ghost like they're equals and try and help them as an apology for hurting them.

They are also looking for a new project to spend time on. A new purpose

So Danny thought, why not give them the money then? Danny proposed to his mom a project to make things that can benefit both ghosts and humans.

Next thing he knows is that he's appearantly funding, building and making:

A ghost job agency

A human job agency

Ghost proof buildings (ghost can't pass through walls, it won't hurt them, just keep em out.)

Ghost proof clothes (overshadowing proof!)

A practical fashion line for ghost and humans (Bullet proof, blast proof etch. Borderline vigilante clothes that look like a civilians day to day outfit)

Homes for ghost and humans

A ghost obsession help center where they can ask humans to help with their obsession.

A school for both ghost and humans.

Liminal 101 because apparently because of the whole, pariah dark and, living in the ghosts kings haunt situation, everyone is liminal now

An entire line of technology that can be used by both ghosts and humans.

A fight arena where ghost and humans can fight for fun.

And so many other things , he can't remember

HIS NAME IS EVERYWHERE . His parents didn't even bother hiding the fact that their son somehow has enough money to fund these projects, everyone knows him now.

He ends up basically owning most of amity park.

And here he thought he wouldn't be the kind of king that expands their territory.

He was extremely UNSUCCESSFUL in that.

[bunnys-kisses]

black ink & pink french tips

captain john price

cw: retired!price, tattooed!price, smut/pwp, sub!reader, dom!price, bimbo!reader, age difference (20s & 40s), power play, daddy kink, baby trapping

bunny says: happy 3,000 followers to me (and right before my exam)!

price remembered his retirement party. he remembered the pat on the back he got from higher ups for his service. he was supposed to be proud, but now in his mid-forties, what legacy did he have to show for it? his name was more often than not redacted, he entire career was in the shadows.

no wife, no kids, not even a fixed address.

so life outside of the military became aimless. that was until he found you. while most would frown at a twenty year ago gap, but you were an adult who could make her own choices. price felt protective over you, he needed to keep you safe.

you were an adult, but you had a lot to learn. and what started out as companionship quickly turned into mind-blowing sex. price could man handle you like no other man could dream of.

"men my age are simply too nice." you sighed as you examined your nails. you looked at him, "pussies."

he simply chuckled and went over to him, shirtless with a cigarette in his mouth. his walk was almost seductive as he got closer. he looked down at you and cupped your face, “well, love. daddy will take care of ya. ”

did he rile up your daddy kink? yes. did he often use it as an excuse to tease you? yes. did you almost rip his hair out when he asked you about your relationship with your father in the middle of sex? yes. 

price loved you on your knees, in his bed, over the couch, he loved on your side, back and stomach. he loved how his cock just sank into the sweetness of your cunt. it riled him up when he felt his tip poke at your womb. you were just perfect, he couldn't imagine himself with any other woman. you were his princess. 

he was laid out beside you on his side while you were on your stomach trembling on the bed. there was a bullet vibrator inside of you and he had turned the setting on to high. he heard your small squeaks and watched you squirm as he palmed your ass. he grabbed your ass roughly as he watched you come apart. 

tonight he was determined to get you as lust-drunk as he could get you. he had plans for you tonight. 

the night prior he had proposed to you, and you rejected him. you told him that you didn't want to get married! was he crazy? so he had to go an unconventional route to keep you firmly by his side. it meant going from lacey bralettes to cute nursing bras in a years time. you could still be your hyper pink self while pushing a stroller, right? 

at the time he shrugged it off, but his ability to plan started to form in his brain. so now he had you laid out as he touched you. his broad, strong hand groped your sweet ass. he watch it jiggle when he gave the cheeks a few smacks. he leaned into your ear, his facial hair touched your flushed skin, “how does it feel, baby girl?” 

you whimpered, “why did you turn it on so high?”

he chuckled, “because when i'm too gentle you turn into a brat.” he slapped your ass and leaned in closer. he kissed your cheek softly, “you kick your legs and whine until you get what you want.”

you whined, “i'm not always a brat.” you buried your face deeper into the pillow. you could feel price's scent cloud your head as he made you feel good. 

price reached down between your legs and started to rock the vibrator in and out of your pussy. you kicked out yours legs and he closed the gap between you, his other forearm across your lower back, “stay still, love.” his voice was low. 

his tattooed fingers lingered around your hole, his thumb even touched your clit which made you feel like you were on a live wire! but price kept you pinned down. he loved watching your little movements, everything about you was so delicate. with your glossed lips and the clips in your hair, the way you pouted at him earlier. 

he licked his lips and slid his fingers into your tight hole up against the vibrator. you moaned and arched your back. the pleasure raced through your body as he pleasured you. he knew you were getting more wound up the more he touched you. his naked little angel, all soft and vulnerable for him. 

you didn't know much, when he asked you hard questions you got confused. but your confusion was just the sweetest thing he had ever seen. now he was going to have you as his wife. you'd make a beautiful mother. the thought made his cock twitch, it was already at full attention. ready to fuck the living daylights out of you. 

you clawed at the mattress under you and arched your back. your noises was music to his ears. you made a deep noise when he pulled the vibrator out of your pussy. you went limp onto the bed, your head felt like a haze as you felt him roll you onto your back, your pussy glistened in the heated bedroom.

  “aren't you such a treat. dirty girl who wants to be fucked by her daddy.” he got between your legs, he rested his weight against you, pinning you to the bed. your hands found his shoulders as he hoisted your hips against his. his hard cock pressed against your entrance, “silly little things like you need to be kept safe. that's why your home is in the arms of an older man.” he pressed his forehead against yours, he felt the sweat against his skin. 

you moaned, “price, please.” 

he grabbed you by the face and moved back to he could stare at you. the look in his eyes was clouded by lust, but stern. stern in a way that showed that he was hardened by war.  he said, “price?”

you pouted “daddy…”

  “i should punish you for that. make ya wash your mouth out with soap for that.” he smirked at you, “or maybe ten minutes in the corner? or maybe i should make sure you don't get to orgasm?” 

you whined, “please, daddy! i'm sorry! my head feels all heavy.” you were running on the high of pleasure. you were barely thinking. 

  “it's alright.” he purred, “I can forgive ya tonight. you're always so good for me.” he said as he let go of your chin and kept you pinned to the bed by his broad chest. you could feel his chest hair tickle against your chest. it felt nice against your nipples. he took you by the legs and pushed his cock into you slowly. 

you were so relaxed and soaked that he slipped in with ease. he bottomed out into you and you jolted it. you clawed at his back, nit enough to draw blood but rough enough that it left the skin irritated. price had a few tattoos since he retired, the ink skin contrasted nicely with the prettiness of you nails. 

black ink and pink french-tips. 

he rubbed up against you as he thrusted into you. he loved the warmness of your sex, he could feel your heartbeat against his skin as he moved you up and down on his cock. he exhaled deeply, “that's it, baby girl. daddy loves that cunt of yours.” 

  “please, daddy.” you whimpered as you held onto him tightly. 

  “you feel amazing.” he groaned, “it was like you were made for me.  mind, body and soul. all mine.” 

you tighten your legs around his waist. you moaned into his shoulder, you almost bit into the meat of it as you felt him. every thrust felt like a nudge against the end of you sex. like he was in your stomach. 

  “so good for me. you felt so perfect around me. my baby girl.” he rocked his hips quickly. he slammed his cock deep into you. he held onto you as tight as he could, he knew it was going to bruising. 

  "please"." you whimpered, "it feels so good!'

  "that's what i like to hear.' he fucked you hard, your pussy clenched around his cock. your noises encouraged him as he moved against you. he sloppily made out with you as his pace started to stagger. pleasure clouded both of your mind. his stomach did flips at the idea of getting you pregnant. trapping you with his baby. 

he held onto you tightly, tattooed hand in your hair as he fucked you with vigor. with a few hard thrusts later, you both climaxed at the same time. you kicked out your legs pathetically as you clenched around his cock. you went limp after as you tried to catch your breath. your head was too fuzzy to notice that price was finishing off inside of you. 

spurts of cum hit against the back of your cervix and you felt like you were going to melt into the bed. but price continued to thrust into you even as he grew softer. he loved the feeling of your gummy, soft cunt around his length. it felt like home.

he whispered as he pulled out eventually, he laid out beside you and teased your cunt, “good girl.” he purred, “my good girl.” 

your were unaware of most things. you didn't even notice that price had eagerly seeded you. and his mission was a success <3

[potofsoup]

i love your fourth of july comics every year but this years feels extremely optimistic about biden’s abilities in the face of him letting roe get overturned and funding a gen*cide at worst or letting it happen at best by taking the bare minimum of regulatory action… i mean can he really be trusted at all anymore to do the right thing or act in line with the people’s demands? and how do we know the people behind project 2025 won’t just rig the election again to get in under false pretenses?

Hihi! Thank you for reading and enjoying my July 4th comics every year! I am in a non-US airport en route to a month-long trip in a place with sketchy internet, so sorry in advance for sloppiness in my response (and potentially going radio silent).

But:

I don't think he "let" Roe get overturned, since that was the Supreme Court's overwhelming conservative majority, which really started with Mitch McConnell refusing to approve Obama's appointee and forcing it into a 2016 election issue. The fact that Trump got to appoint 3 Supreme Court Justices is what got us here.

Re: Biden and the Israel/Hamas war ... on the one hand, there's definitely more that he could have done, but on the other hand, they are a whole other country over there. It's Hamas that initiated the Oct 7 attacks and took the hostages. It's Netanyahu and his right-wing government who decided to retaliate to such extreme extent. Biden can talk about how he would really like Netanyahu to stop fighting and step down, but at the end of the day that's not his call, any more than he can stop the Sudan fighting that is near-genocidal either.

So, to come to your question #1: "Can he really be trusted at all anymore to do the right thing or act in line with the people’s demands"?

For me, it's a resounding YES. Guyz, he has passed so much good domestic policies. My spouse works in green energy and the passing of the Inflation Reduction Act halved his anxiety and gave him legitimate hope. The tumblr post I linked to in my comic has links to many of the other great things that Biden has done. Tbh I voted for him in 2020 because "a moldy onion is still better than Trump", and I've been pleasantly surprised. Like how he tried to cancel student loans, the Supreme Court overturned it, and then he came back 6 months later with a different way to do it that didn't lead to a court challenge.

Is he perfect? Hell no. There's tons of stuff that I wish he did more about, or he went further on, but also he's just one guy heading one branch of government who is heading into an election year. (Just like FDR promising not joining WWII, while behind the scenes doing all the Lend-Lease Act stuff). And "the people" have lots of demands, many of them conflicting.

I'd also like to push at the unspoken part of your question... "Can he really be trusted to do the right thing..." compared to whom? Because right now the answer is "compared to Trump." And compared to Trump... I don't even trust Trump to respect the results of a legitimate election. Heck, he might just take his favorite state secrets, sell them to the highest bidder (or just show them off to someone for funzies), and then claim Presidential immunity. A decent Democrat who got stuff done vs someone who probably wants to pardon himself and all his friends and do Project 2025 stuff is not even on the same level. (Do I wish that there was a viable Democratic alternative to Biden? Sure! But who?) Heck, at this point -- imagine if it's Kamala Harris vs. Trump. Who would you vote for?

As for your question #2: "How do we know the people behind project 2025 won’t just rig the election again to get in under false pretenses?"

We don't. But also what can we do besides showing up to vote?

Actually, I need bullet points for this:

The 2022 midterm elections brought in fewer-than-expected election-deniers into crucial electoral offices at the state level, which means that hopefully most state electoral boards will continue to have integrity

Yes, voting is harder but at least we can still vote. So it's about getting out there and getting your vote counted. For some states, it involves waiting in 8 hour lines. For some states, it involves bringing 2 forms of ID. Document. Track. Make sure it's dropped off in a real ballot box and not a fake one. Don't believe messaging that the voting is happening on a different day or location, etc.

A 50.1% majority is easily challenged. A 55% majority, less so. Which means getting people out to vote.

The more people know about and think about the reality of a second Trump term (versus being disappointed by a Biden term), the more they will be motivated to vote against Trump.

Finally, let's be real here: I'm braced for a 2nd Trump term. That said:

I'm still going to go and vote for Biden, because the only way to prevent a 2nd Trump term is to vote.

A Trump term where either the House or Senate is controlled by the Democrats will be *very* different from a clean Republican sweep.

Even with a clean Republican sweep on the federal level, States have so much more power now, and voting the state level stuff will help shore up Democratic goals for the future. States get to draw voting districts however they want. States get to decide on abortion policies. If you live in a deep Red state, there still might be things to vote for that make it easier to live in now, and turn it purple a few elections down the line.

So at the end of the day, it's "Vote AND". Vote and keep living your best life. Vote and tell others about Project 2025. Vote and have hope. Even if Trump wins, at least you'll have voted against him. Vote and stay to build up a progressive wave for the next election.

[girlkisser13]

being married to erik lehnsherr would include

• erik is EXTREMELY protective of you. he uses his powers subtly to ensure your safety, like redirecting bullets or stopping potential threats without you even noticing.

• when you’re driving he will use his powers to move a car over if he thinks that they’re drifting into your lane.

• as his partner, you have a significant role in his plans and strategies. your insights and ideas are crucial, and he trusts you implicitly with major decisions.

• balancing erik’s often ruthless methods with your own moral compass can be challenging. you constantly strive to find a middle ground, helping him see different perspectives while understanding his deep-rooted convictions.

• erik loves to shares his vast experiences from different historical events, giving you a unique perspective on history and the evolution of mutant-human relations.

• being with erik means constantly learning and evolving. he encourages you to hone your skills, whether they’re related to your powers (if you have any) or other talents.

• despite his tough exterior, erik shows his softer side only to you. his love for you is profound and unwavering, and he cherishes every moment spent with you.

• you both enjoy challenging each other intellectually. debates are a common occurrence, and they often end in mutual respect and deeper understanding of each other's viewpoints.

• erik shows his love in small, meaningful ways, like always having your favorite tea ready or ensuring you have a warm blanket when you’re cold, using his powers to fetch things without you asking.

• you both share a strong commitment to the mutant cause. whether it’s through activism, helping mutants in need, or fighting against oppression, your relationship is a powerful force for change.

• despite the constant battles and responsibilities, erik always makes time for private getaways with you. these retreats are a chance to relax, reconnect, and enjoy each other’s company away from the chaos.

• HIM LETTING YOU WEAR HIS HELMET>>>

• the two of you often host gatherings for the mutant community, providing a space for mutants to connect, share their stories, and support each other. these events are filled with a sense of unity and purpose.

• trust is the cornerstone of your relationship. despite the challenges and dangers, you both have unwavering loyalty to each other, knowing that your bond is unbreakable.

• erik respects your independence and ensures that responsibilities are shared equally. whether it’s managing your home or leading missions, you both contribute and support each other’s strengths.

• if you have children, erik is a fiercely protective and loving parent. he’s dedicated to teaching them about their heritage, powers, and the importance of fighting for their rights.

• GIRL DAD MAGNETO>>>

• i mean come on, it’s basically canon that this man is a girl dad. look at the way he treats wanda and lorna compared to pietro.

• he occasionally shows off his abilities in small, romantic gestures, like creating intricate metal sculptures for you and arranging a metal flower bouquet that never wilts.

• your house is adorned with thousands of metal flowers he's crafted for you.

• he's also made countless pieces of jewelry for you as well.

• he made your wedding ring himself. <33

[orange-artist]

KNY Time Travel AU

Notes about time travel au (hashira kamaboko squad):

Tanjiro

He learned that the longer his hair was the more pissed Muzan gets so he let's it grow out. However he can't handle it too long so it's stays a little over shoulder length and he ties it up

Mastered sun breathing and tried out the other breathing forms to make up for the fact he learned through unconventional means. Aka. He knows moves from all the other forms

A little bit of demon blood in him because of his brief (attempted) possession. Enough to cause him to be slightly more demonic than humans. Heals faster.

Zenitsu

Still wails and whines but mostly performatively

Will gear shift in an instant to seieous mode and it's terrifying to witness

Wasn't able to master the other forms of thunder breathing so he modified into his own style raiden (lit. Thunder and Lightning) aka Thunderstorm breathing to fill in the gaps.

Nezuko once complimented him about his long hair and he's committed to that ever since

Inosuke

Eventually realized people kept thinking he was a demon when he wore the mask so they compromised and he wear it on his shoulder now. He still occasionally wears it.

Had a brief obsession with learning all the manners so he can disregard them on purpose

He's learned to consider consequences, not that he spend a lot of time doing that but still

Got coerced into wearing a bit more cover ups by the squad a la goading and compliments

Nezuko

Half human half demon, wasn't fully cured

She tried to learn a breathing style and managed to somewhat grasp water and flower but she's not as talented as tanjiro in sword fighting

In a fight, she prefers tantos and daggers, if not directly hand to hand

She excels in tactics, the team eventually realized she should be planning the fights

She is able to control all the boys, no one questions the Nezuko

Genya

Thanks to Nezuko's antibodies and Tamayo's efforts, he's okay when he uses his abilities

While not able to use a breathing style still, he's made up for it by training and skills. He's making a mostly a marksman of the group, with phenomenal aim and wisteria bullets made by Kanao

Full mastery over his abilities and is able to control how much power it uses and how long it lasts

Wears Sanemi's outfit…

Lowkey kinda died but managed to get revived…🤔

Kanao

Emulates Kanae and Shinobu to an extent but she's more open about how she's feeling

Changed her cape into a floral orchid haori

She still has her coin but it's mostly for cool factor™️ now

Learned medical and poisons and demonology eventually

worked with Yushiro to try and develop a cure for the curse of the demon slayer marks

Hehhehehe thoughts?

[bluetimeombre]

🀥 𝐇𝐮𝐫𝐭 𝐦𝐲𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟, 𝐛𝐲 𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮

He's not your Logan, but you wish he was.

[I have so many Logan drafts I have to publish, oh no…. While I’m working on p2 of the Hugh Jackman and Ladypool I made this. It’s my first real attempt at smut and I cringed so bad.]

Warnings: death, grief, smut, dirty talk, language, oral (f! Receiving) penetration sex, not proof read

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

The events of Logan:

When you'd seen Logan running through the field, soaking up more bullets than sweat, you knew it was going to be tough to save him. You knew it might even have been impossible but god you were going to fucking try. Even if he didn't want you to.

You'd gone with the kids, with Laura to keep them safe, but you hadn't thought you'd have to keep Logan safe to.

And you tried to. You tried so hard with your limited strength and ability, but it wasn't enough, not when you and Laura watched as his clone threw him into a fall tree, the other end poking out his bloody chest.

You screamed. You think you screamed. The only thing you knew for sure was that you took the adamantium bullet and shot it through the clone's head.

'Logan,' you stood over him. He was staring up at you, pale and watching your every move. 'No.'

Laura was at his other side and behind him. She started to hack away at the tree, until Logan groaned and slowly slid to the ground.

You grabbed him, gently settling him down as Laura joined your side. 'No, please.' You grabbed his hand and held it tight enough for them both.

His fingers gripped yours with the only strength he had left as his eyes cast to the girl. She was crying, tears down her cheeks as she whimpered. She looked down at his wounds, almost as if she was trying to find a way out. Even your hands were already soaking up his blood. 'Don't be what they made you,' he whispered. 'Laura... Laura.'

She sniffed and watched his lips slowly move to say her name. 'Daddy...'

His breath was short and shallow but even then he managed a small smile. His fingers around your hand became weaker as his eyes lifted to look you over. His smile remained and his eyes that had been filled with such pain and exhaustion filled with... love. They looked over you as if taking in every last detail. 'Look... look after our daughter.'

You cried, sobbing, holding his hand to your chest so he could feel the heart that only beat for him. 'I- I love you.'

His eyes softened, his lips forming words you could barely hear. His hold on your hand ended. 'Ah, so... so this is what it feels like.'

The smile on Logan's face fell and his eyes would stare at you forever. He was gone. The love of your life. Your best friend. Everything. Dead. It was over like that. His life span of years over in the snap of a finger.

'Logan?' you cried, brushing your fingers through his short grey hair.

Laura cried. 'No. No. Daddy?'

You fell back on your heels, hanging your head as tears hit the earth under you. The weight of their grief was enough to shake the earth.

Laura's small hand crawled up to claim the one that wasn't desperately clinging onto Logan's. She tucked herself into your side, her head resting on your chest. Finally, you brought your head up and rested it atop hers, your tears soaking her hair.

'Look after our daughter,' and you would. With your whole life.

The events of Deadpool and Wolverine:

'Who-who brought us here, anyway?' asked Deadpool.

'That would be us.'

Everyone turned, including Logan, as a girl- a young woman really, walked out from the shadows. There was another behind her, but they lingered back, staying closer to the dark and leaning on the doorframe.

Laura made herself visible to them all, stopping in front of Deadpool. 'Don't make us regret it.'

'Holy shit,' he said. 'Logan that's her, that's X-23.'

Logan watched the girl for a moment as he took a gulp of the bottle. The girl's eyes assessed him back, as if she had some of her own judgement. He didn't have anything to say to her- he didn't know her. But Logan caught whiff of someone else, a scent so familiar to him but having only been kept with him in a dream.

'Wait, who's that?' Deadpool looked to the figure.

Laura looked back, smiling at her.

Logan almost dropped the bottle as you walked down. You hadn't aged a day. You were just the same as the last day he'd seen you, that day he'd walked away and lost everything. It was your body he found last, surrounded by the children you had been protecting. Your ring, the ring he had given you, bloody.

'Y/N!' Deadpool gasped. 'No way! Holy shit! I didn't think you'd gotten any of my calls. Can I just say- woah. Logan, look who it is!' he boasted.

Logan was still looking at you. You didn't think he could ever look away, but neither could you. You weren't each other's, but you looked it.

'Oh yea, there's some tension here,' said Deadpool. 'How did you even end up here?'

'Our universes were dying and the TVA knew we wouldn't be going quietly, so they sent us here,' you said, walking down the last steps and busing yourself around the room, anything not to look at that Wolverine that wasn't yours.

But you glanced at him, you told yourself just once and he was still looking at you. Looking between you and Laura. Your Logan's last words replayed in your head. 'Look after our daughter.' and you had. Though it hadn't gotten you anywhere. Only to the void.

'The answer is yes, I'm in,' said Deadpool.

'In what?' asked Blade.

'The team. Me- you. You- me, all of us. All of us together, getting the hell out of this place.'

'Don't listen to him, he's a fucking lair!' Logan snapped.

'It was an educated wish!' he corrected.

'Ha!' Logan barked, taking a drink of the whiskey. He caught your eyes and thought better of it. He thought of the times the two of you would sneak to the kitchen to get a beer when you first met each other, how- once the two of you stayed in the same room- he'd never leave your side, even for a drink. Instead, he'd hold you tighter and just watch.

Deadpool, somehow, talked you all into a team up. You thought that's what was happening, frankly, you were distracted watching Logan.

'Hey,' Laura approached you quietly while everyone else spoke. 'You ok?'

'Yeah, yeah, i'm fine,' you assure her, brushing her hair back. 'You?'

Laura glanced back to him. 'I don't know yet.'

'Oh, Johnny must have loved you. X-23, what's it gonna be?' Asked Deadpool.

'The name's Laura,' she corrected him, looking from you to the room. 'Let's fucking go.'

'Let's fucking go.'

'You're all fucking dead,' said Loga.

'My god, read the room.

That night, before your big takedown, Logan took to sitting around the fire.

You and Laura watched for a good ten minutes, trying to come to terms with the father, the lover, you both lost.

'He looks just like him,' said Laura.

'I know,' you agreed. 'But it's not him.'

She looked up to you. 'What if, it could be?'

You didn't want to think of it or believe it. The only thing keeping you from him was the memory of your Logan's blood over yourself. 'It can't,' you told her. For a moment, the both of you continued watching, until Laura walked away from you. Toward him. 'Laura, Laura!'

He must have heard you calling as he glanced over to see her. 'No, no, no, i'm not looking for company, get outta here, kid.'

'You remind me of him,' she said, settling on the other end of the log. 'Angry, drunk, mean-'

'Sounds like a great guy,'

'I wasn't finished,' she said.

You were close enough to hear and you chuckled, watching the two. She was no more than ten the last time they saw each other, she could barley speak to him with all her words in English. It was their first chance to speak.

'He showed up when it mattered the most, couldn't help it. You might not know it, but you're a good man, Logan,' she told him.

'You might not know it but apparently i'm the worst Logan,' he said.

You lowered your head, holding onto the tree.

'I got to have a life because of you. And Y/N. But I got to grow up, because of you. A lot of kids did.'

Logan looked into the fire. 'A lot of kids didn't grow up because of me,' he was thinking about it again. Your body, the kids bodies around you. The blood. The ring. 'Trust me kid, i'm no hero.'

'That suit says different.'

He hummed and looked down at it. 'Scott used to beg me to wear it. So did Jean, Storm, Beast. All of them. Y/N. Wanted me to be part of the team, but I wouldn't. Told them they all look fuckin' ridiculous. I couldn't have them thinking I wanted to be there. Kept saying i'd leave, I only stuck around for Y/N,' he watched the fire. You watched him. 'Then one day I did. I left and the human's decided to go mutant hunting.'

'I can guess the rest,' said Laura.

Logan shook his head. 'No, no, let me say it- I- I need to say it. By the time i'd stumbled home shit-faced from the bar it was too late. They were dead- they were... and the suits all I got to remind me of who they were. What I did.' He took a gulp of his bottle and tried to forget.

You turned from them, thinking of how he lost you in his universe and how you lost him in yours. Both of you couldn't do anything to save it. Perhaps, you were destined never to live happily. You let him and Laura say their farewells in peace before she walked by you, offering you a small side hug.

'Is it your turn, bub?' Logan called to you. 'You gonna give me a speech?'

Cautiously, you stepped closer until you could see the tears in his eyes and the sweat on his brows. 'You never really listened to the speeches.'

He scoffed as you sat where Laura had, if not a bit closer. You couldn't help it. 'And you were never really the sort to give them,' he said, looking to you. His face froze when he caught sight of you. You wondered if he was thinking how similar you looked to her, because all you could think was how close he looked to him. 'You're not my, Y/N.'

'And you're not my Logan.'

You sat in silence for what could have been hours before Logan offered you the bottle. You took it and gulped down more than you should've. You coughed, practically shoving it back to his hands. 'God, I never knew how you drank that.'

He chuckled. 'I know.'

Perhaps not completely different.

'Wade says I died for her, that kid,' he said.

'Laura.' You smiled. 'You were dying anyway. Giving yourself up to protect the kids and her, is probably just a way to speed up the process.' You were taken back to that moment like it was a dream, the blood, his eyes, his last words.

He shook his head. 'If you're Logan was any Logan, then he'd never have voluntarily let you go.'

The two of you met each others gaze.

'I just wanted to make him happy,' you said. 'In the end, I couldn't even do that.'

'You made us happy,' said Logan. 'I'm sorry, about what happened to your Logan.'

'And i'm sorry about your Y'N.'

The after:

You were dying. At least, you thought you were. You could've sworn you were in the void. But then, the TVA turned up again (you may or may not have put up a fight when they put their hands on you and Laura) and whisked you away to another universe.

'Welcome to Wade's world,' said the murk with the mouth, opening the door to you and Laura.

'That's not the trade mark, right?' you asked.

Laura laughed and walked in, joining the party.

Wade had pulled a few strings to get you and Laura back to his world to be with his Logan. It was a work in progress, sort of what the whole party was for. A dozen of his friends were invited just to get you and Logan in the same room together. Everyone was in on it, he suspected even Logan knew what he was doing but he didn't oppose.

Instead, Logan dressed some what good for the evening and planned to try to get to know Laura and to see you as you and not once his.

Wade ushered you through the room. 'There's drinks, food, cocaine cause disney's not here anymore, oh and-'

Logan set the dog- dogpool- into Laura's arms and headed to you. This was his que. 'Hey, bub.'

'Hi.'

The two of you silently stared at each other while Wade watched like a giddy school girl before he found Vanessa in the corner of his eyes and rushed to her.

‘You’re here,’ Logan noted.

You nodded. ‘So are you. You’re out of the suit.’

‘Yeah,’ he looked down at his outfit.

‘You always looked good in plaid,’ you said.

Logan looked up at you through his lashes. ‘Yeah?’

You nodded, lips forming a tight line.

After some more awkward small talk, everyone set down for pizza. You and Laura were introduced to the large group, making talk with them all- some you recognised, others you didn’t.

Laura sat between you and Logan, like a true child with her parents. You were just happy to watch her interact with him, sipping a beer as Logan smiled and chatted happily. He’d changed. His face lit up and he didn’t look like your Logan, but a happy one. It was a rare thing. ‘Oh, I’m gonna get the dog!’ She slipped from her seat, forcing you and Logan to acknowledge each other.

He nodded to the bottle in your hand. ‘Want another?’

‘I’m good.’

He nodded, finishing the rest of his. ‘She’s a good kid,’ he said.

You glanced back at Laura who was chasing the dog around. ‘Yeah, she is.’

Logan smiled at you. ‘You did good.’

Those three simple words seemed to tip the tension over the edge. It was all you’d needed to hear, Logan, telling you you were doing good with his last wish. Your eyes tears up, your hands shook.

You cleared your throat and pushed your chair back. ‘Sorry, need some air.’ While everyone chatted you slipped up from the table and out the front door- Logan watching you go, startling out of his own chair.

Wade turned to him. ‘What the fuck did you do?’

‘Shut the fuck up,’ he couldn’t wait any longer and followed you out.

He couldn’t see you when he stepped out the building and panic set into his bones. He sniffed the air and followed the trail down the side of the building where you leaned on the wall, your back to him.

He said the suit was all he had, but on his dog tags, hiddin under, was your ring. The last thing he had to remind him of you.

You heard movement and whipped around to see him. ‘Sorry.’

‘It’s ok, bub.’

‘It’s just-'

‘I know,’ he said, holding up a hand.

You lean your back on the wall, taking him in as he stepped closer slowly. ‘You know i have nothing to remember him by. Not a suit. Not a picture. Even his dog tags were buried with him- or not anymore after what Wade did. Now, there isn’t even a grave. He exists only in here, in memory,’ you tapped your head. ‘And then you came and you’re just like him. Like a slap in the face.’

Logan nodded, listening and knowing the feeling. Every time he looked at you there was a twisting feeling in his gut, dread and desire mixing in the worst ways. ‘I told Laura that the suit was all I had to remember them by, but that wasn’t true.’

He stood before you and pulled at the chain around his neck. Dangling at the end were the familiar dog tags you knew and loved so much, between them a band of something else, branded with a diamond.

‘This was hers. Or yours, in my world. I’d given it to you a year before … the accident. Knew I loved you. Knew I needed you always. But I was still terrified, I’d never let you know that of course. This was all I had to remind me that you loved me.’

With enough time for him to tell you to stop, you reached out to the chain, looking at the ring.

‘You have good taste.’

He smirked. ‘Scott helped.’

You chuckle and gently set it back on his chest.

Logan took your hand, holding it, his thumb soothing over the back. ‘I know I’m not your Logan, but I want to be. I want you to be my Y/N.’

You knew the feeling. The hold he had on your hand, the only one to hold your hand since was Laura and even then, she carried a piece of him in her. Memories weren’t the only thing you had left of him- you had her. Your daughter.

Logan took one more calculated step toward you until the toes of your boots were pressed together. He held your other hand, pressing them between your bodies. ‘I want this, and so do you,’ his voice came out low, breaths like pants. He hadn’t been close to anyone in so long, it made sense the only one he’d return to was you.

You met his eyes and your resolve washed away like the ocean. You pulled your hands away from his to grab the side of his face and kiss him.

It was a slow movement of lips as you both got familiar with the taste of each other after all these years before his tongue licked over your bottom lip and you moaned into him.

Logan’s tongue swept in and the kiss became desperate. His hands fell on either side of you on the wall as you pulled him into cage you against the bricks. You barley pulled away for breath, like any space would kill you both.

You hands crept around until they were in his hair and tugging.

Logan bit down on your bottom lip before trailing down your jaw to your neck and biting down, groaning at the taste of your skin.

‘Logan,’ you gasped, rocking your body into his until you could feel the tent in his pants.

‘I need you, bub,’ he said into your neck, nuzzling his face there and licking and biting until you were bruised.

‘Baby,’ you trail a free hand down his chest until you grasped the outline of his heavy cock. He groaned and nipped harder.

‘Where are you- where are you staying?’

‘Hotel,’ you mutter in his ear, biting down in his earlobe.

‘Call a taxi.’

You pulled back enough to see his face, his expression drunk on you.

‘What about Laura?’

‘She can stay with uncle Wade!’ Called a voice from above. The two of you looked up to see Wade hanging out the window, looking down at the two of you. ‘We’ll have a girly night, let you guys get at it like rabbits in heat!’

Logan sneered. ‘Fucking jokes.’

Laura appeared next to Wade, poking her head out. As if indecent, Logan pressed his body into yours and you held onto his shoulders. ‘Yeah, I’ll stay with Wade!’

You sigh, knowing you’d regret keeping her with Wade but regret letting go of Logan even more.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

The two of you were like teenagers. Like being in love for the first time all over again. Your hands remained hovering over his crotch throughout the taxi ride and his lips never left you alone.

You walked through the lobby with some dignity but by the time the doors of the elevator slid shut, he had you pinned to the wall and was sliding a huge thigh between your legs and letting you grind yourself on it.

You just had to have a room on the top floor. At some point, an elderly couple joined you and Logan pulled away just in time. He kept a firm grip on your hand and you dragged him out as soon as you arrived at your floor.

You fumbled with the key card and threw it somewhere else as soon as you got in the room.

Logan growled and kissed you, tongue parting your lips and teeth nipping. His hands grabbed your thighs and hoisted you until you were wrapped around his body like a kola on a tree. His hands moved around until they cupped your ass and moved you to grind into him.

You moaned into his mouth, sucking on his bottom lip as he made his way toward the bed.

He dropped you down as you bounced on the mattress. Looking over you, he made quick work at pulling his shirt over his head as you opened your legs, inviting him in. ‘Desperate, bub?’

You nodded, biting down on your lips.

What a sinful look. He moaned just at the sight of you before dropping to his knees.

You fumbled with your jeans, undoing them quickly and shifting your hips until Logan pulled them down and threw them behind him.

His hands were just as rough as your Logan and just as large as they climbed up your legs, his lips following suit. With every dent his fingers made his lips kissed until he was hovering over you me panties, damp and waiting. ‘Oh, poor cunt hasn’t been treated in a while, has she?’ He whined, looking up to you from between your thighs.

You watched his tongue dart out to swipe across you hidden pussy before falling back on the bed in pleasure. He’d barley touched you and yet you were a mess, wiling to beg and do anything for him. For any part of him. ‘Logan, please.’

‘I will bub, I will,’ he smirked, inching closer and closer. ‘But we have all the time in the world.’

He blew against your clit and begun to make out with the dampness of your pussy. His tongue only made it more wet, going between farting out and taking long strokes.

‘Logan,’ you pulled at his hair, trying to get him closer.

He hooked a finger through your panties and pulled them aside, burying himself in there.

The moans you emoted were pornographic as he took long strokes with his tongue, teasing you as his tongue repeatedly nudged your clit.

‘Fuck!’ You moaned, holding a hand to your mouth.

Logan looked up, saw this and grasped your wrist, pinning it to your stomach. He pulled away. ‘I will fucking stop and let you do the job if you dare think about shutting up,’ his voice was rasp and it sent a shiver through you. ‘I want you to scream, sweetheart.’

He spread your folds and feasted like a man starved. He had been. He’d forgotten things about you, the depth of your laugh or the twinkle in your eyes. The way your body vibrates and the way you taste. Now, he was willing to work days and nights to get it all back.

Your thighs trembled, caging around his head.

Logan laughed against your pussy. ‘You want to keep me here, baby? Want me to suffocate between your thighs?’ He didn’t even try and pull away. He grabbed your thigh with one hand and with his other, he slid a finger into your.

Your hands gripped the bed sheets. ‘Logan, I’m..’

He groaned, moving his hips against the sheets. He wouldn’t last long and he knew it, but he wanted you on your face before he came inside of you. ‘You’re so tight baby, did other Logan not treat you right? The way you deserve.’

You muled, unable to do anything else but squeeze your eyes shut and feel your high approach.

Logan laughed. ‘He didn’t stretch you out enough, did he baby?’ He slid in another finger and rested his head back on your thigh, keeping watch on you with dark eyes. ‘If it were me, I’d have fucked this cunt every day. Made it fit for me and only me. Have it crying out for me all day and every day.’

‘Logan, I’m gonna cum,’ you gasp.

He darts his tongue out and flicks your clit and scissors his fingers until you moan out, trying to lift your hips as you come all over him.

Logan doesn’t waste a second to lick you up. His tongue cleaning you softly as his fingers trace circles in your thighs. ‘So good for me, fuck, you taste like your mine.’

‘I’m yours,’ you utter.

Logan looks up at you, backing away from your legs. Your all over his lips, his tongue, his mind. He thought his dick couldn’t get harder but it strained heavy against his trousers. ‘All mine, hey bub?’

You put yourself in your elbows and look down at him. ‘All yours, Logan.’

He leapt upon you like an animal, flattening you to the bed with all his weight on top of you. Your fingers fumbled with his belt as he pulled away enough to rip your shirt in two, bra following.

He squeezed your tits, rolling one nipple between his fingers and taking the other between his teeth.

You panted under him, that familiar ache climbing up your body as you ground your damp panties into him.

Once you’d undone his belt, Logan tugged them off, freeing his cock.

‘Good to see all Logan’s go commando,’ you tease.

He smirks. ‘Only for you, bub.’

He trails kisses between your tits, trailing all the way down your stomach before he found your panties again. He pulled them down agonising slowly with his teeth, your body awakening in shivers at the touch.

Once you were both left bare, he took his cock, pumping it and looking at you withering body, awaiting him.

‘You want my cock, sweetheart? Want it inside of you?’

‘Please.’

‘Were you always sweet for your old man?’ He asked, slowly sinking lower, this tip of his cock feeling your heat. ‘Did you tease him? Were you a good girl for him?’

‘Yes!’ You whine.

He laughed at your desperation.

‘You gonna be good and take it like my Y/N?’ As he asks, he slips the tip between your folds and moans out, throwing his head back as you bite down on your lip, whimpering. ‘Oh fuck, bub. Shit. Too good for me.’

You grasp at his back, trying to pull him in more.

He tutted. ‘That’s not very patient of you, thought you were gonna be good.’ He wanted to tease, wanted to spend the rest of the night getting familiar with you again, but fuck did you feel so good swallowing up the tip of his cock.

‘I’ll be good, Logan.’

‘Fuck, yea you will, bub,’ he slides in further, gripping the base of his cock to guide himself in. ‘Fuck.’

The two of you are silent, gasping and groaning as he tries to fit himself all in. Your legs are spread and you clutch onto his shoulders.

When he’s half way, he pulls back only to slide in faster, deeper. He repeats, muttering under his breath. ‘Fuck, fuck, shit Y/N.’

‘Logan,’ you moan.

‘I love hearing you say my name,’ he groaned, dropping a kiss to your shoulder as he moved in and out of you. He sped up, gripping you ass to hoist you up and reach in deeper.

You moan loud enough to shake the walls.

‘That’s right. Taking me- fuck- taking me just like you always have, he grunted, looking down at you. Looking down at where he disappeared inside of you, to know it was real.

You grabbed his shoulders, urging you over him as he thrusted in at an un-relenting pace. His chain of dog tags and the ring dangled in your face and you let your tongue out so he could dip the cool metal on your tongue.

Logan moaned and stilled, grabbing your hips. ‘Want you to ride me, bub.’

With a smirk, you tossed yourselves over until Logan was spread out on the bed and you could sink all the way down on his cock. You did it faster than he’d expected, just to see his eyes roll to the back of his head.

His grip on your hips remained tight enough to bruise, but he let you set the pace.

You dreaded yourself on his chest and started slow, agonisingly slow. Enough to torment him.

‘Bub,’ he growled.

You smirked and started to bounce, started to move quicker, throwing your ass against him every time.

The bed rocked on the wall and his growls were animalistic. The rocking of the bed became in time with the slap of his balls against you ass.

‘Keep going bub, I’m gonna cum,’ he said.

‘Cum inside of me,’ you pant, sweat causing the baby hairs to stick to you.

He looked in your eyes, his cock twitching inside of you. ‘Yea? Want me to fill you up, huh?’

You nodded, chasing that familiar buzz in your gut.

‘Bet your Logan didn’t fill you up to the brim. Not as much as you deserve, you deserve it all. Don’t you baby, say it!’

‘I deserve it all,’ you utter. ‘Logan I’m-‘

Logan groaned and he lurched up, gripping your body close to his as he came inside of you, his seed coating your walls as yours ran down his cock to the base. He bit down on your shoulder, twitching as he held you both.

Once you’d both recovered, gently, he rolled you over until you were back in bed and he was still inside of you.

You watched him, marking every bit of him in your memory.

Logan saw this and cradled your head. ‘I’m not going anywhere bub, and neither are you.’

He kissed you sweetly, taking his time to steal your breath and feel your lips. Tasting like home.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

When you next woke, with the sun up, you felt a heavy arm draped over you and an even heavier body practically on-top of you, caging you to the bed. He was warm, smelled like whiskey and sex.

Logan. Now your Logan, back in your arms

Memories of last night came back to you in fragments like a dream. You fingers brushed through his hair. There were a couple bruises littered around his neck but you were sure there were more on yours.

‘Mornin’ he grumbled, burying himself closer to you.

‘Indeed.’ Said a voice.

Your head shots up as Laura sits in a chair across from the bed, arms folded over her chest and smirking at the two of you. It was lucky Logan’s body covered yours, but all your clothes were still scattered everywhere and the quilt just about hung over Logan’s backside.

He hardly blinked, ‘hey kid.’

You fell back on the bed and for the first time in years, you laughed.