#isolation fucks with your brain bad

[galaxyofender]

i still intend to make sure you don’t fall behind don’t forget that you’re a warrior of a very special kind you are a warrior of the mind don’t disappoint me.

[tricoufamily]

tried to make my middle school ocs as sims to heal my inner child and completely overhauled them. so here they are, before and after The Events

lore time! trigger warning for like. everything like just go ahead and block their name tags if you have basically any triggers at all sorry

facts about hinnry (right)!

born into an incredibly isolated cult that's existed on a commune completely detached from the world since the 1890s. no one knows they exist, and it would be incredibly difficult to even find the commune.

that's why his name is spelled that way. they've been isolated for so long that their spelling and dialect have almost developed into their own language. like hinnry morphed from henry, jime morphed from james, merthy morphed from martha, etc.

everyone on the commune has the last name skrinniwk. none of the historians who studied the remains of the commune could determine what this used to mean.

you can spell it henry or hinnry. ilya (left) spells it henry. whatever

he has like 17 siblings (his father has multiple wives)

his father is the leader of the cult. they believe that their leader has been the same person since the 1890s, and he transfers his soul to one of his children when his physical body dies

on the commune there are bunkhouses for sleeping, a chapel for worship and school ('school') for the kids, a mess hall/kitchen kinda thing where they all eat, and then all their farming and livestock stuff

hinnry's job is slaughtering the animals

he's 18, almost 19, and has no wives or children yet. the men basically conceive children until they can't anymore (his father is an old man), but it's still strange that he hasn't done it yet at his age.

none of them besides his father and his father's brother have ever left the commune (he has a secret car. the rest of them don't even know what a car is, they think he has divine abilities and that's where they get things from)

a plague has been killing them like crazy. they've been locking bodies in the barn and burning them at night. this is not a good sign for their religion.

they believe all the death means it's time to leave their physical bodies. a mass suicide is coming. this isn't why hinnry runs away though. he would have had no hesitations about it.

facts about ilya (left)!

r̵e̷d̵a̷c̴t̴e̴d̶

r̵̅͜é̶͉ḍ̷̉a̵̲͝c̴͎͊t̵͓́e̵̤͆d̸̰̚

r̶̛̟̞͉̝̪͇͇̳͇̫̖͓̥͍̼̬̪̠̻̝̜͎̙̙̫͉̩͕͇̦͑͑̊̇̓̆̅̽̀̌̈̑͋̊̈́̌̈́͗̆͛̐̀̄̏̂̌̇̊̕͜ë̶͚̲͈͚͉̘̞̉̀̈́́̓́͗͐͌̃̌̌̂̈̄ḑ̵̨̟͓̣̲͎̤͔̑̑́̊̎́̉̉͌̋̓͒̅̀͂́̐̃͛̉̂̊̉̃̈́̋̑̀̈̕͝͝ã̸̧̛̪̼̩̦̜̙̳̦͊͛̄̓̔̈́̃̏̅̊̅́̾̔̆͗̈́̇̾̆͊̎͆̍̓͂̕̕̕͝͝ͅc̵̛̛̰͈̩̥̩̭̹̤̙̟͔̬͖͔̗̰̙̹̎̿̑̀̏͋͆̒̔̎̄̐͛͘̕͜t̸̡̰̖̥̱͈͎͍̙͙̤͍̟͈̦͈̻̺̮̳̗̱̫͋̑̏ė̴̢̡̛̥̱͔͉̩̱̬͇͇̪̖̰̻͉̞͈̩̭̪͚̮̞̠̰̩̦̝̽͆̆̔̄̊̑̑͆̎͌̍̀̈́̔̈́̌͘̚͠ḑ̴̨̪̖̞̙̭̖͔̠̯͙̭̺͔͖̖͙̪̐͛̄̉͛͜͝͝

ṛ̸̑̚͝e̸͉͒d̴̮͚̗͑́a̴͖͎̥̾ć̶̦͈t̶̰͇͚̾̉̕e̷͈̰̾͗̎d̵̾͜

r̷̡̛̻̹͙͈̖̺͛̾̇̋͂̊̑͂̈́̓̎̄̍̆͐̕e̴̡̨̝̜̻̞͍͔͍̲̯͕̹̭̱̩̘̝̳̅̉̈́̇̉͋̑̅͂̋̅̆̿̀̄̉̌̂͑̕͜͝͝ͅͅd̴̥̖̖̗̮̯̦̖͖̄͆̍̊̂̔͆͌̒͘á̸̡̨̠̺͓̠̯̼͚̬̘̪̻̜̠͍̱̿͒̃̌̆̅͊̃̈́͑͑͑̽̈͒̂̓̍͌̿̀͊̃͘͠č̴̺͇̒͑̑̈́̉t̴̨̧̨̡̖̩͕̙̪̰̠̳̬͔͈̬̞̝͈̠̮̭̍̏͛͋͊̊̑è̸̡̧̡̨̛̫̪͔̘̞̜͙̥̝̙͎͙̺͉̭̭̱͍̺̓ͅd̶͖̄̂̈

ṟ̴̟̫͊ë̴̠͇̟́̅͠d̸̼̬̘̕͘ą̴̱̜̈́͒͝c̸̺̫̑̓̕ţ̶̣̅̋̈́é̵̛͍͍͝d̸͖̥̬͗̓

oh yeah he'll have all the hair colors in the poll at some point he dyes it a lot

r̸̢̨̢̛̤̘̪͉̘̥̦͍̙̫̖̣̼̟͖̦̪̯̼͓̙̮̬̞̳̞̺̭͈̥̮̪̝͎̻̩̩̣̬̿̍͐̐̓̔̊̂͂̐́̎̊̍́͑̾̓́̊̒͋̇̐͑̈́͒͐̕͝͝ͅͅe̶̡̧̢̡̥͍̭̪͖̟̘̮̬̤͚͚̤̗̯͚̱̻̜͔͈̞̻̫̙̪̜̬̘̼̦̣͖͔̪̝̣͖͕͚͐̽̍͜͜ͅͅd̵̢̧̨̟̝̦̜̹͎̜̻̬̤̝̣̣̭̤̣̪͙̖͉̼̼̜̻̮̬͕͕̤͓̭͍̹̥͉͚̥͆͋̆͗̆̂̑̍̑̒͗̾͂͗̆͗̒̐̈̈̃́̔͊́́̿́̎̿̕͘̚͘͠͝͝ͅͅa̸̢̨̛͔̰̺̙̖̪̟͎͎̬̹̪̭͙̗͕̬̞͍͍̠͚̩̺͓͍͙̋̍̒̑̊͐̍̈̆̊͊̂̂̋̎̈́͗͆͋́͌̏ͅc̵̖̟̦̺̼͈̀̐̓̒̃͆̌̑̽̈́̃̓̎͛̎̅̏̈́̿̃̔͋̓͝͠͝͝͝͝͝t̵̨̢̼̹̜̹͚͖̫̤̫̺̳̞̣̗͚̫̬͉̤̠̫̫̘͔̫͓̠̙͉̲̠͙͈̭̗̻̎͛̑̊͊͒̎͋͗͜ͅę̴͈̟̖̜̄̇̃͌̉̈̆̍͗͒̿̆̀́͑́͋͌̃̈́́d̵̡̧̢̛͙̝̲̗̼͕̟̱̼͍̦̤̙̹̼̯̹͍̭̟̖̠̣̝̝̳̣̣̥̫̰̖̎̓͛̂́̓͋͗͋̾̎́̎̓̿̿̌̓͛́̓̈́̓̚̕̚͘͜͜͠

[redhotarsenic]

Many many irl things are happening at the moment that’s why I’ve been gone for so long terribly sorry for that 💀

[camellia-thea]

i'm still thinking about the conversation i witnessed last night :/

[piplupod]

mistakes were made. should not have gone to library today. i will be leaving the house all five days of the week now (plus we went to a waterside on sunday for several hours) and uhm... i feel like i need to go hibernate for several weeks to feel even remotely okay again fhdkdl i am so tired i can barely think enough to string words together in any comprehendable way 🧍<- upset

[catwouthats]

Maybe it’s only on tiktok that people say this BUT I ALWAYS SEE THINGS LIKE “my poker face when I read smutt is really good” and everyone AGREES

My emotional ass WILL be blushing, crying and giggling along with the characters NO MATER THE GENRE

[v-arbellanaris]

i think the problem (?) is that the only kind of (fictional?) love that interests me is the kind of love that changes the world. the kind of love that derails the narrative, the kind of love that changes everything -- not necessarily by how special or unique the love is but by the very mundanity of it. the love that grows, not in spite of the barren lovelessness of Before, but out of it. i think that's why I'm always so invested in ships that are two people diametrically opposed to each other, or enemies-to-friends-to-lovers, or two people on separate sides of the morality issue coin, because i love it when love... not that it changes a person but it allows the person to Become. the space, the grace, to change. to love the monster, to love the unlovable and the intolerable, is to make it something other than a monster, than unlovable, than intolerable. i love it when being loved at your worst, ugliest, most horrible self is what makes you want to be someone worth loving. like is this ANYTHING to anyone or

[springcatalyst]

*asks you about world building*

*sickos haha yes image*

All my stories take place in roughly the same timeframe in largely the same environment: hesitantly named Synsolic as an analogue to Earth (I may change that later because I don't know if I like it but it's stuck for a while now so. We'll see)

It's fantasy because I am a sucker for fantasy, populated by humans, merfolk, fauns, satyrs, ipotanes, and nightlings- which are also called shadowlings or aveoliths in varying contexts. I know "faun'' and ''satyr" are largely used interchangeably in a lot of things, but they're different species, here, though they share similarities with each other as well as with ipotanes, the other ungulate species. Merfolk are actually made up of two subspecies, iarans and nix, but while they differ physiologically in a lot of ways, culturally they are one and the same, so they're generally grouped together. I think that's as far as I'm going to get into species things for now, because I've got *checks notes* 32 pages of species things in my own nonsense word docs and I really don't think you want all of that. Unless...

BUT

The world as it is now has been fractured. I hesitate to call it post-apocalyptic because that implies a level of supernaturality and/or violence that generally isn't present, but the gist of it is that over a century past, in the mountain range at the northern edge of the continent, the tallest peak erupted. Think Mt. Taupō or Mt Tambora, with some variation. The ash, the pyroclastic flow, the acid rains and sulfide clouds, combined with the continued effects that the material that made it into the stratosphere had on climate in the next few years, contributed to a heavy death toll. Even after the initial activity ceased, cities fell just because they couldn't feed themselves in the unnatural winter that followed, in the subsequent years' lack of a true summer. The sulfuric content released poisoned the air, especially close to the mountain, though if you were close to the mountain, you were probably dead anyway from that initial eruption, just from being buried in ash or debris. More people were lost than can be counted- in the hours after the eruption, but also in the years that followed.

Some were affected more than others. Merfolk, occupying mostly the southern seas and having the added protection of the waters' surface, retained more of their infrastructure, and with it, knowledge and history, more of their people, than terrestrial humanoids. Satyrs had typically occupied the forests in the north, and so there are very few, if any, true satyr cities remaining. As a result, merfolk are now known for their knowledge of technologies that were lost to others, and satyrs are largely travelers or scattered among other species, unlike fauns, humans, and ipotanes, who have places that are more theirs. (The species are not completely distinct, they live amongst each other in a lot of cases, but there are places that are mostly fauns, or mostly humans, for example, where other species are more a minority. Satyrs don't really have that.)

It has been a long time since the cataclysm. Nobody currently alive lived it, in fact, there are few that even remember somebody who did, and if they did, they were almost too young to know it. But it lingers in the way that things are, now. Cities don't really exist as much as towns or villages, small settlements that can support themselves with little outside influence. There's not a whole lot in the way of governmental influence, and there's definitely not any nations anymore, though they were more of city-states before, anyway. This is a double-edged sword, because the cataclysm made people come together in a way they weren't previously, but it also gave people who wanted to use or harm others an easy avenue to do it, with no formal punishment a disincentive.

The world is mostly in-betweens. Towns or herds or any other type of community are few and far between, and in the spaces linking them is just a vast wilderness that, too, has been changed by the cataclysm. Ash is rich soil. There are forests where there were once prairies and there are rivers that were redirected. The closer you get to the mountain, the more changed things have been. The landscape is scattered with overgrown ruins, again, with increasing density as you draw closer to the source. People are isolated because of this vast space they must span in order to reach others. There are many travelers, but they rarely cross paths, because how could they? There is so much space.

There is SO much more I could say but for the sake of your sanity I'll leave it here. Extremely swag of you to indulge me and if you EVER are actually interested in me elaborating on literally anything PLEASE ASK. I WILL GLADLY

[theodore-lasso]

.

[lobotomysyndromez]

Ford Pines they'll never make me hate you

[screampied]

✧ ⁺˳ cw. fem! reader, praise, size kink, fıngering, dirty talk, oral fixation, mdni.

“easy, easy,” sukuna groans, having you laid on his broad, empty lap. you’re straddling him, chewing on your bottom lip as he’s knuckles deep into your drooling cunt. already, a clear sheet of slick coats down a single finger of his and you’re twitching from his hold. a cocky grin paints against his lips as one of his free hands attach to your waist. “ah, c’mon. not that bad. ‘s just one finger, princess.”

“y- your fingers are s-so thick, ‘kuna,” you babble out in broken words, and it doesn’t take long before your muscles tighten. indeed, he had much length to his fingers. he was easing you up because just moments ago, you insisted on how you could easily take him on the first try. of course, he decided to help you out anyway, finding amusement in how you’re already about to gush out from just a single digit. the stretch was immaculate, your tummy churns in a line of zig zags as you feel him slowly insert yet another finger inside. “fuck, ‘s long.”

with a breathy chortle, he makes you slump forward into his chest. “such a weak girl,” and his voice pitches against your ear — his breath, hot and fanning near the soft lobe of your ear. “if you can barely handle two fingers, what makes you think you can take two of my cocks, little one?”

your moans become more loud, echoing through the bouncy walls of his devilish, isolated chambers.

your body fails to remain still, grinding against his hand directly underneath you. “k- kunaaa,” you huff, your own jaw becoming loose and dangling itself agape.

it was so delicious . . the stretch, oh the stretch,

the way his two fingers curl into a salacious circular motion, rotating around the goopy insides of your sopping pussy. you were weak, so so weak.

he groans, hearing the slosh slosh squelches your own mess sings from the impact. “hah, ‘s good. i can take one more, please.”

chuckling, his lips press against your forehead. “hm, dunno. maybe i should take ‘em out..”

“s- sukuna,” you whimper, hearing him snickering at your desperate plea. your walls were more clingy than you were on a daily basis, sticking against the texture of his fingers like glue. with your face buried into the crook of his neck, you gasp once you feel the alleviated pressure arise furthermore. “pleaseplease, more. i can take another finger. need another finger.”

“girl,” he snarls, a single fang baring and you jolt into his chest once he spanks your pussy once.

the brief sting that follows makes you throb and it scratches such a good itch in your brain. “what did i tell ya? you don’t need, you want. repeat that sentence for me, pretty.”

“i— i want another finger inside,” you correct yourself, your eye twitching at his familiar sass. sukuna remained seated on his notorious throne, sexily manspread with you on top of him also. your legs felt like mush practically, and the stimulation has you swooning for more. gasping, you bite down on the breaking skin of your lip once more. “want it, ryo. want you.”

“good grief, does fingering make ya forget manners too?” he slyly grins, ruby red eyes peering into the depths of your precious soul.

you sigh, knowing what that meant. as he’s still got two fingers tucked away deeply into your cunt, your arms sling over his tense shoulders. “p- please.”

“atta girllll,” he praises, another one of his hands tugging against the fabric of your blouse.

as you still make a cute attempt at rocking your hips against his lap. he slowly inserts another thick finger inside. tightening around each one individually, you whine before your entire body jitters.

sukuna chuckles deeply against your ear, feeling the claws of your nails seep into the flesh of his arm. “oooh, so three is the limit. i see,” and within three seconds, his digits pull out of your cunt. a slimey string of your filth sticks against his fingers. as he looks down with an utmost hungry gaze, he brings his fingers up to his mouth before sniffing them.

“mhm,” and with glossy eyes, you stare as the demon pops his three fingers right into his mouth. you’re still taking your seat on his lap, watching as his forked tongue devours your enchanted taste. slit eyebrows furrow in arousal before he takes it back out, bringing his fingers toward your quavering lips. “open. taste it, girl,” and as your lips happily part, he slides two fingers inside your mouth, watching you suck against them. he groans, imagining you were putting your cute throat to use on his cock— not his fingers. your pink tongue swishes around, curling against the digits and you taste the bitter taste of your own sweet. “messy fuckin’ woman. taste how dirty you are for me? yeahhh, lick it all up ‘cause ‘m gonna put ‘em right back in. gotta train this weak cunt for the real thing.”

your head bobbles a bit— every few seconds sukuna’s lengthy fingers would thrash back against your uvula, causing you to almost gag. as you lick them clean, tasting his own syrupy saliva in the process, he quickly pulls them out before stuffing them right back into your greedy cunt as promised.

sukuna raises a brow as your head lowers onto his chest. “eh,” and as your tongue playfully licks against his neglected nipples, his breath hitches. you catch him off guard and he grunts at the suddenly sensitivity. “fuck are ya doin’ brat. didn’t tell you to s-suck on . . mhm, those.”

he doesn’t exactly pull you away.

instead, he drags your head closer, looking down embarrassed as your mouth latches onto his thickset pecs like a leech.

it felt odd, strangely new.

you’re sucking against his swollen perky nipples, lolling your tongue around before that’s when he abruptly pulls you off. with a new look of neediness in his eyes, sukuna watches as a trail of your own spit departs from his nipples. you leer back up at him with a teasing grin forming on your lips and he scoffs.

sukuna ryōmen was flustered..

“y’er .. fuckin’ weird,” he grouses, and once he sees your growing simper, he uses a hand to make your head move back toward its former placement near his now dampened pecs.

“keep .. doin’ that. never told ya to stop, little girl. phew, i- i liked that.”

[teojira]

Scar x fem! Reader/Rover from Wuthering Waves where Reader is trying to get Yangyang back, and Scar offers to give her back for a kiss from reader 🫦

[What's the harm?] [Scar/reader drabble]

Summary: Scar strikes a deal with you, for both your and Yangyang's freedom. (You are Rover in this!)

Word count: 1k+ (I got POSSESSED)

Pronouns: She/her implied

Warnings: Possibly OOC but the game is 3 days old, have mercy. Slightly nsfw! Scar is down bad. You're Rover in this and you're also down bad.

A/N: I want him so bad, the constant flirting with MC? The way his eyes soften at her? I'm in love with him so bad.

“Where is she?” He's already isolated you for Yangyang, bringing you into his domain.

 It's unnerving, standing alone with a man you've seen cause so much trouble, someone who constantly is trying to get into your head.

The comments he makes, there are so many of them and they just keep coming. 

Is he lying about wanting you? Lying about wanting your trust? Is this just a ploy to get you on his side? 

You're not sure, your brain can't deny that this is a trap, he trapped you, but your brain can't deny that he's looking at you with a soft gaze that you're sure he's never graced another human with. He looks like he simultaneously wants to eat you alive and protect you like he claims.

Scar himself stands a few feet away, arms crossed as his eyes trail along your form, starting from your feet, lingering a bit on your chest until finally meeting your eyes. You swear you can see a twinkle in his eye, and he doesn't even remotely try and hide the way he licks his lips at you, a predator grin making it's way on his handsome face.

“Oh come on Rover, she'll be fine~”

“I'm not doing this with you, give her back.” You steel yourself, hand resting on the scabbard of your sword, ready for him to attack.

To your surprise, he knocks his head back and laughs, shaking his head, the movement jostling his locks. He turns back to you, moving closer, step by step.

“Look at that, that fire in your eye is mesmerizing Rover, you're that concerned with a woman who only wants to use you?” He coos, voice mimicking how an adult talks to a child and you feel small, taking a small step back but the distance still closes, he's not letting you get away.

“Stop. I'm not playing this game with you Scar, let me go and give Yangyang back.” You hate how your voice trembles a bit, hating yourself for his presence having such an effect on you.

“Yangyang This, Yangyang that, what about me my dear? Why don't you say my name like you do hers? With that fondness.” He glowers, finally closing the distance, stepping into your personal bubble and cornering you against a large rock.

“What are you even-” You can't help the flush that rushes to your face, your head dizzy at the proximity. The body heat radiating off of him is jarring, but not as jarring as his smell. He smells of ash and burnt wood, and a mix of his own natural scent and it feels warm and safe. For the first time since you've woken up, you feel protected, despite him being the enemy. The same one who the nation you're supposed to protect hates.

It's so stupid, it's so stupid.

"Say my name.” He's leaning down now, was he always this tall?

“W-” He cuts you off, grabbing your jaw with one hand, squeezing your cheeks ever so slightly, only releasing to brush a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Say it, Rover.” His face is so fucking close, you can feel his breath tickling your face.

"Scar." You breathe out, your head spinning, this is wrong, you shouldn't have let him get this close, you need to get out and find Yangyang, what the fuck are you doing?

"Give me what I want, and I'll let you both go." He murmurs, eyes zeroed in on yours.

His heterochromatic eyes are beautiful already, but the way they're so dilated, barely any of his color is shown.

"I'm not following."

"Just a kiss my dear, just one."

"How do I know you're gonna keep your word?"

"You don't, but I don't think that's gonna stop you." He coos again, moving to trail one of his hands down your back, pushing you closer to his body, your chests both heaving and resting on one another.

He's right, as of right now, there is absolutely nothing that will stop you from this, from giving in just this once.

You lean in first, shutting your eyes tight.

It's Scar who does the rest, crashing into you like a wave, trying to consume you.

He kisses you like you're long lost lovers, pouring so much passion into the kiss that you can't ever hope to return, so when he pushes you up against the rock, you know this'll be a reoccurring occurrence. It's addicting, the feeling of his lips finally on yours, all the tension finally reaching a climax. His tongue is damn near down your throat, swallowing down your moans as much as he could, his hands gripping your hips so hard, you wouldn't be surprised if it left a mark later (a small part of you hope he does).

It takes everything in your power to pull away, but the second you do, he moves to start licking at your neck, you can feel his canines run along a specific patch of skin that makes your legs weak. You place a hand on his chest, trying to gently push him away.and when that doesn't work, you bring your other hand up to run your fingers through his locks and tug him away.

The groan he lets out is downright sinful. He looks up at you, his expression as if he just fucked you within an inch of your life, his hair mussed, his lips glossy from your combined spit.

"Was that good enough?"

"Oh honey, you're lucky I don't take you right here. But I am a man of my word." He hums, licking his lips and letting out a snicker. With a shocking gentleness, he pecks your lips one last time.

"Wake up now."

"Rover! Rover! Are you okay?" Yangyang has your head on her lap, one of her palms on your forehead, feeling the warmth there.

All you can do is groan and bring a hand to your face, covering your cheeks.

"What'd he do to you in there?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ᴠᴇʀʏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ꜰᴏʀ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ᴛᴏ ʜᴇᴀʀ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴏᴏɴ!

[adorabledaylilly]

So angry at a white man on Twitter I want him crushed and ground up by a train

[bunnys-kisses]

jailhouse rock au - brain rot

original post | part one | part two

i love the idea of simon sleeping with your clothes once he gets out. he never had much to remind him of you while on the inside. he kept a few of the photos that you sent, he adored those. but at times he wanted something that smelled like you.

he wanted to press his nose up into your belongings and just melt into them. while he was on good behaviour in prison, he could often get wound up. he was held back by thoughts of you, there was no reason to beat another convict over the head and get put in isolation and an extended sentence. he needed to get home to you, he needed to smell your scent and find comfort in your soft belongings.

when he got out and inserted himself into your life, he started to sleep with one of your sweatshirts. it was a ratty thing from college but your scent was embedded in it. you told him that he could snuggle with it when he took naps in the afternoon.

he was like a dog with his favourite blanket, he adored the thing. even when he had the chance to snuggle up next to you in the evenings, he still had the sweatshirt on hand. he loved it more when you told him you wore the thing to your last exam ever in college.

you found it endearing, that he wanted to be so close to you always. even when you were at work. who knew such a big guy would be a total softie. well, at least he was a softie to you. while on the busy streets of the city, he looked intimidating.

if people had to choose between you or him to talk to, they usually picked you. you were the smaller one with the round face and often smiled. simon was an overprotective guard dog. but when it was the two of you, he was relaxed and wagging his tail (if he had one).

but the sweatshirt served another purpose. he liked when you wore it during sex. it wasn't that he didn't think you were the most beautiful being on earth, but the way it rode up when you rode him teased him. he liked seeing peeks of your body, it edged him as you two had sex.

plus it got more of your scent on it.

when he fucked you on your side, he'd bury his nose into the back collar of the sweatshirt as he did long drags of his cock inside of you. he groaned at the feeling of it against his nose paired with the hot moans that left your mouth.

he loved to just bully his cock into his lover, but not hard enough to break you. but when he found out that you loved a few bruises, he couldn't help but indulge in your fetish. he wanted to make his wife-y feel good.

"that's a good missus." he purred in your ear as the sounds of his hips hitting against your ass got louder. the sound of your slick wet pussy around his cock filled the air as he held you by the hips.

you had the collar of the sweatshirt between your lips to keep you quiet, you already got a noise complaint this month. he when he turned your head to face him, he saw that your spit had gotten all over the collar, staining the heather grey colour to a deeper shade.

he slapped your ass and then held you by your hair. those dark eyes showed shades of a domineering man. even though he worshiped the ground you walked on, he knew that he could rough you up a little in the bedroom.

he could recall all the nights he only had his fist to pleasure himself with. but now he had his little wife, the woman who pulled him out of a bad life. and as his cock pressed against your cervix, he made a vow to make sure that you'd be his forever.

through better or worse, you were going to misses simon riley.

*sweat nervously* <3

[shockyky]

.

[j4desblurbs]

i needed “kisses on the nose” from the prompt list with logan, like, yesterday

give me my soft man!!

LOVE’S PERFECT ACHE

yes i got the title from a hozier song

summary: logan gets mad at you, and makes it up to you.

warnings: i made this angsty but other than that, no warnings

word count: 1.3k

logan had been acting cold ever since lunch.

curt responses, no petnames, a bit more sarcasm than he would usually use for you. all of these things pointed to something that was your fault.

no matter how much you wracked your brain, you couldn’t think of anything you’d done to make him angry.

it’s not until he walks into your shared room a couple hours later that you find the answer.

“wanna tell me what that was back there?” he says, causing you to look up from your book.

“what?” your eyebrows furrow. what on earth is he talking about?

“with scott. at lunch. talking to him like that?”

you feel like you’ve missed a chapter.

“logan,” you huff out his name with a confused laugh. “what are you talking about?”

“hand on his arm like that? laughing your ass off? what’d he say that was so damn funny, hm?” logan seethes.

you think back to your interaction with scott earlier in the day. it was just like any other time the two of you have spent time together. you weren’t entirely sure what was so alarming about enjoying the company of your friend and teammate.

but then you remembered logan has a temperament, an extreme distaste of scott, and a jealous streak like nobody’s business.

“logan,” you sigh. “it wasn’t like that at all. i was just laughing at a joke he made.”

he scoffs, his tone condescending. “yeah, right.”

you bristle at that. he almost never talks down to you like this. suddenly, a pocket of anger bubbles into your chest. before you know it, you hear yourself saying:

“funny, i never acted like this while you flirted with jean.”

logan stops cold.

“i never flirted with jean.” he says, plain and simple.

you scoff. if there was anything you hated, it was being treated like you were dumb.

“don’t,” you warn. “don’t do that.”

“do what, sugar?” his tone is condescending, demeaning. it brings the beginning of tears to your eyes.

“don’t pretend like i don’t know.” you blink, trying to hold back your tears, but one falls and makes its way down your cheek.

logan falters. he hadn’t meant to make you cry.

“honey-“ he tries, but you brush him off by holding up your hand without another word.

it’s only after you make it to the first empty room you find that you allow yourself to break down. ———————————————————————————

for the rest of the day, logan isolates himself, staying in your room as the hours tick by.

he was never the best at communicating.

by all means, he was trying. he really was, but it was just so goddamn hard sometimes. he could never get the words right and often ended up causing even more damage to whatever situation he’d fucked up in the first place.

he knew you weren’t doing anything with scott, of course he did. but some part of him deep inside couldn’t help but think that he wasn’t enough for you, or someone bad for you. so, when his worst fear was even remotely realized, he lashed out in ugly ways.

logan lets out a sigh. why’d he have to fuck this up? he had never meant to make you cry. it was the last thing he’d ever want. all he’s ever wanted was to give you the love you deserve. to protect you. never to hurt you.

and he couldn’t even do that.

he gets up, putting out his cigar. it was about time he stopped wallowing in his self pity and started looking for you so he could apologize.

he does end up finding you, in a small room off the gym. logan’s heart cracks when he sees you, curled up against the corner, knees to your chest, eyes red.

what had he done?

he says your name, and his chest tightens even more when you visibly bristle at the sound of his voice. the sight’s almost enough to bring tears to his eyes.

logan strides over, kneeling next to you. his hand is warm and strong when he places it on your back, but your body still tenses when you feel his touch.

“have you been here the whole time, bub?” his voice is soft, his familiar scent of tobacco and leather and pine enveloping you and making you almost give in and bury yourself in his arms.

almost.

you give him an almost imperceptible nod of your head, not wanting to speak just yet.

really, you didn’t trust yourself to not burst into tears the second you tried.

he sighs, shifting his position so that he’s in front of you. his hand gently pulls your chin up to make you look at him, his thumb wiping away the tear tracks down your face.

seeing how red your eyes are makes his heart do a slow twist in his chest. he had done this to you. and he wasn’t sure he knew how to fix it.

“i’m sorry.” his voice is quiet, gravelly. “i didn’t mean any of it, honey.”

you finally force yourself to meet his eyes, blinking slowly. he was lying. you knew it, could feel it.

logan rarely said anything he didn’t truly mean.

“i know you did. i know you meant it.” you say, the weak, broken tone of your voice hurting him even more.

“i want to explain. believe me. but i just can’t put what i’m feeling…..together. into words.” logan looks down, his mind racing. he was never good at expressing his feelings, and he was most certainly going to fuck it up if he did it without thinking it out.

“maybe you could try.” your voice, low and cracking slightly from lack of use, breaks him out of his thoughts.

he lets out a soft breath, unsure of how to explain himself. he owes it to you to try. to have what might possibly be the world’s most uncomfortable conversation if it meant that you didn’t loathe him like you did right now. for everything you do for him, it’s the very least he can do for you.

“you mean a lot to me, darlin. a lot more than it might seem. so when i see you talking to another man, happy with another man,” he trails off, a lump forming in his throat. “it hurts me. because every day i doubt that i’m the right one for you. every day i’m terrified that you’ll get tired of me, of us, and leave.”

as he talks, you slowly start to open up, pulling your knees away from your chest and wiping the remnants of your tears away from your face. your hands find his face, cupping his cheeks as you get onto your knees to reach him.

“logan.” your tone is firm. “why didn’t you tell me this sooner?”

seeing the man you love, normally so tough and headstrong, almost curl into himself is a strange sight to stomach. logan seems small like this, not because of the way he’s crouched in front of you, but because of the palpability of his fear.

he clears his throat before he speaks, his voice soft. “i didn’t know how to say it.”

his hands come to rest on your waist, pulling you against him into a hug. he rests his chin on the crown of your head, one palm sliding up to rest on your back.

as you reciprocate the hug, you feel the tension melt away from his body, his arms tightening slightly around you as the thought clicks in his head: you still wanted him.

“i’m sorry, baby.” logan whispers into your hair. “i’m so sorry.” he pulls you away from him a little, kissing your forehead, then your cheeks, and finally your nose, resting his forehead against yours afterward.

you close the gap, pressing your lips to his, tasting faintly of tobacco and coffee. he kisses you back with equal gentleness. it’s a sweet, soft kiss that you both melt into.

you relish in the fact that you’ll have many more kisses just like these.