#anyway would you like that cigar

[columboscreens]

[moongothic]

Crocodad AU where immidiately after having left Dragon and his baby boy Crocodile finds an 11 year old Robin. And while he's 100% only recruiting her so they can make a beeline for the Poneglyph and Pluton in Alabasta by the two of them... Crocodile accidentally sorta kinda adopts Robin.

At this point Robin's been running for her life from the Government for three years so her deep trust issues and fear of betrayal are starting to take root in her little heart. Like perhaps they haven't taken fully over yet, and being still a child I'm sure Robin might've still had that genuine hope that she could find a safe place to stay in. But I'm sure the though of "what'll he'll do with me once he gets what he wants?" would be nagging at her at the back of her mind. Meanwhile Crocodile's struggling between the pain and hurt he's already gone through and given him his trademark trust issues, as well as the aftermath of The Dragodile Divorce. But he also has his Fresh Paternal Instincts and probably misses his baby. So when given a small, scared child who is running for her life, being chased by the very same Government that'll want his son dead if they ever find out about him... Yeah that might fuck with your brain a little

You know this post was supposed to be just that first paragraph and just a few footnotes from the following two paragraphs. And then I kept on Having Thoughts. And I kept on writing them down. And oh no what happened when did this post get so long (Look I was going to either kept on writing my Additional Thoughts in the tags or I just put them in the actual fucking post)

Like considder this: based on this one SBS, we can kinda tell that if Crocodile was given a chance to raise a child, that child would be a spoiled little shit, right

So in this scenario, where Crocodile's looking after lil Robin, would he be kind of torn? Unsure how to feel about her?

Because on one hand, this strange child would have the potential to not only ruin his plans, strip him of his Shichibukai Privileges by outing him and his plans to the World Government, but also put his son in grave danger by extension (if she found out about him having been involved with the Revolutionaries and/or having a child). But on the other hand, his paternal instincts could make him want to spoil this poor little girl rotten. But only because he needs to (perhaps literally) buy her trust so she'll behave. No other reason, he doesn't feel sorry for her one bit, no sirree. (But maybe he did feel sorry for her, since his son could very well end up exactly like her. Poor little thing) (Which is why he needs to nuke Marijoa out of orbit as soon as possible, no matter the cost, and this child can't get in the way of Crocodile protecting his son) (But also this is a child. Like how bad could she be. Besides all he really needs to do to win her trust is be nice and make her feel safe, right?)

Of course, while I'm suggesting Crocodile could have some parental instincts, realistically, he hasn't actually spent any time being, you know, a father to a child (looking after his newborn for an unknown though short amount of time aside), so it's possible he wouldn't even know how to parent Robin even if he wanted to, would he? (Like taking care of a newborn and an 11 year old kid aren't the same either) So if he was kind of just emotionally flipflopping between No Trusting Ever and It's Just A Kid for God's Sake, Crocodile trying to be nice to Robin to make her feel safe and then telling himself to stop being so soft and vunerable... Yeah that would make for an absolute mess of a relationship. (Not to mention, let's be real, dude's a scary motherfucker too, and a bloody giant compared to itty bitty baby Robin. He could keep on accidentally scaring the shit out of Robin (who would be On Fucking Edge To Begin With) by just Being Himself. Like for example, can you fucking imagine if he caught Robin trying to cheer herself up with a little "dereshishishi" only to tell her to stop because "it was stupid"? 'Cause I can imagine him doing that, and boy howdy would that make Robin feel bad)

Or who knows, maybe Crocodile was just Born To Be A Dad, maybe he just Fucking Gets It. Like Crocodile is canonically pretty good at manipulating people to do what he wants them to do (see: how he played Vivi like a fiddle), so knowing Robin's position and understanding how she feels, maybe he COULD completely nail how she needed to be treated. Not being too familiar but still making her feel safe and happy, knowing exactly when to be stern and when to spoil her, etc. Dude just goes off and wins the Dad of the Year Award while being a deadbeat dad himself. The only thing Crocodile would have to worry about then would be making sure HE doesn't get too fond of her. And certainly that could never happen, he's so in-touch with his own feelings and so grounded, he's not a softie, get outta here. Or maybe he does but never realizes until it's too late and good luck backpedalling on those emotions now dumbass

Alright so, the reason I went on that whole rmble is just that like. I'm so interested in the relationship Robin and Crocodile already have in canon. I'm so facinated and curious about how the two feel about each other, considdering they did spend 4 whole years of their lives together as criminal business partners, though neither ever trusted the other. A partnership that was only ended because Robin betrayed Crocodile, out of her own trauma. (God, I want to see these two "reunite" so bad, I want to know how they feel about each other now after the timeskip and Robin joining the idiot in flipflops who foiled Croc's plans)

My question here is just that... if they had met 13 years earlier, would things have been different? Especially if Crocodad Real? Because as I mentioned in the begining, Robin would've been on the run for only 3 years by this point, as opposed to 16 years before running into Crocodile. Simultaneously, this would be before Crocodile went onto spend an entire decade all alone, slowly losing his marbles in his emotional solitude. They'd both be emotionally traumatized, yes, but would it have been as bad in this scenario? Like I did start this post kind of joking about Crocodile adopting Robin, and for clarity's sake I don't think they'd have like a father-daughter relationship nececarily. But it would be a strange relationship still, because we'd have two broken people, both struggling to trust anyone. One who had lost her mother and her only friends, leaving her all alone and afraid while running for her life. The other a father who had just given up his son whom he probably missed dearly. Both having these holes in their hearts from loss of family, holes that could not be filled with replacements. But could they find comfort in each other anyway, because they still as people occupy similar roles to their respective loved ones? If they both could just get over those trust issues?

Okay I've been going off on the Emotional Side Of Things for this AU Concept, THERE'S PLOT TOO

So if Crocodile did pick Robin up like 19 years ago, that should be before he set up base in Alabasta, long before he had built is homebase and financial empire etc.

Now the thing is, while we don't know when, where and how Crocodile learned about the Ancient Weapons, Pluton specifically and how the lead on it would be in Alabasta... Considdering Crocodile did once upon a time aim to become Pirate King, it would make perfect sense if he had learned about Poneglyphs during his past adventures, as he would have needed to get the Road Poneglyphs to find One Piece. And while the World Government did bury the truth about why Ohara had been burned down and why Robin had been given her bounty (remember, the WG claimed it was because she had sunken a fleet of battleships, which she had not, it was because she could read the Poneglyphs), considdering this is a Crocodad AU specifically, you could totally make an argument Crocodile could've learned about what actually happened to Ohara from Dragon and co. So, just to make this AU work, you could just assume Crocodile learned about the concept of the Ancient Weapons from Dragon. And who knows, maybe he overheard the truth about why Robin had been given her bounty from Dragon too (maybe Dragon was able to get intel from Garp in secret) or while going to Marijoa himself to attend a Shichibukai meeting or something IDK.

Maybe he learned about Pluton being in Alabasta before finding Robin by accident, and maybe they made a beeline for Alabasta the second Croc recruited Robin. Travelling takes time and the guy would've most likely had to find an Eternal Pose to Alabasta just to get there (also canonically Robin didn't enter the Grand Line until her 20s so they should've met in West Blue probably, since that's where Ohara was) Or maybe Crocodile had to haul Robin around for a few months while looking for That Missing Piece of Information that would lead him to Alabasta. (Imagine the two travelling from like island to island, library to library, Crocodile trying to find that leads while Robin's just so excited about ALL THESE BOOKS (she's helping too with the research) (but to her, research is playtime, so she's just having the time of her life) (Also, notice how Crocodile's Theoretical Child is a fucking loser ass nerd? Yeah Crocodile would encourage Robin reading and studying, surely. And that would be fucking cute))

But like, once they set sail to Alabasta...

Sure, Crocodile could try to do it The Slow Way that we know he tried in canon, building trust and creating his little empire etc. But also, in canon, Crocodile couldn't have jumped into action head first because without Robin, even if he had found the Poneglyph he couldn't have read it and found the location of Pluton. Crocodile choosing to do it the slow way may have been partially because he didn't have much of a choise and it could've felt like the smarter move long-term.

But in this scenario, he already has Robin. Yes, he could do it the slow, secure way.

But what'd be there stopping him from infiltrating Cobra's palace and kidnapping him (in the night, when nobody suspects a thing), demanding Cobra to spill the beans lest Crocodile kills him and/or his pregnant wife* (*Vivi was born 10 months after Luffy so depending on how long it's been between Crocodad leaving Luffy behind and this scenario... Yeah either the wife is there, still pregnant, or there's a newborn Baby Vivi)

Like it'd be a risky move but depending on how ballsy Croc's feeling and how confident he feels in being able to kidnap the king without being noticed... Yeah he could probably do it. And I'm sure he'd have no problem killing Cobra either, if anything it'd be required if he didn't want the Government to find out he was out to find Pluton, and god knows Cobra would tell on Crocodile if left alive. I could see Crocodad being maybe a little iffy about killing Baby Vivi though (it's not like the newborn baby could report him to the WG anyways), but if nothing else, he just needs to be able to pull off the bluff of his life to convince Cobra to do as he's told. And we all know Crocodile's good at convincing people.

The only question is, how would Robin take that?

Watching Crocodile go into Full Murder Mode, hearing him say he'd kill a pregnant woman/a newborn baby if he didn't get what he wanted? Like yeah, I'm sure 11 year old Robin would be fine with that, that wouldn't make any alarm bells go off in her head at all, it'd be fiiiine. IT WOULD NOT BE FINE, SHE'D BE SCARED SHITLESS. That fear of "what will he do with me when he gets what he wants"? Well, Robin may not have found the answer to that question in particular, but she certainly found the answer to the opposite question, and it's not good

So say Cobra, kidnapped (perhaps with Baby Vivi) by Crocodile in the night, guides the two to the Poneglyph under the tombs. Crocodile puts Cobra out of his misery because he's not needed anymore. And he asks Robin to read the Poneglyph for him.

Robin, who has spent the last little while, be it weeks or months with Crocodile, him having become her "guardian", the thing keeping her safe. Crocodile, who has now shown how cold blooded and cruel he can be. Robin, who might be scared out of her mind. Of him.

And the Poneglyph says Pluton, the thing Crocodile wants, isn't there. It's in Wano.

What's she going to do?

EDIT: I wrote a sequel post, enjoy

[venomgaia]

what's good about a pilot falcon?

HI! The Pilot Falcon (older generations were sold in the US as the Namiki Falcon for whatever reason) is a japanese fountain pen manufactured by Pilot!

it's often referred to as the best modern flex pen, or the best gold nib for a beginner! Tldr for people who aren't pen nerds, a flex pen is a pen that...well, flexes! Most pens have some sort of "flex" to them that results in some sort of line variation, but flex pens can handle a relatively higher amount of pressure. Think like a G nib used in a lot of manga. Old pens were the MASTERS at this, and a good bit of that is due to the nibs being made of gold, which naturally has a "bounce" to it that modern steel nibs have a really hard time living up to. Most people wax poetic about Waterman or other vintages like that because of it. Even modern gold nibs can't really keep up with the gold nibs of yore, but the Falcon is considered to be one that can. I do think legally it's considered a "soft" nib, meaning it's not truly a flex pen but has a lot of flex qualities to it, but some terms that get used are used interchangably so. idk. True flex nibs aren't really a thing in fountain pens these days outside of Noodler's Ahab and Konrad (which are their own nightmare and a half tbh).

The Falcon prized amongst artists for it's very fine nib, which Japanese pen manufacturers like Pilot and Platinum are known for. A Japanese Fine is comparable to a Western (Kaweco, Lamy) Extra fine, and a lot of these pens come in an EF, F, and M. It gets alot of nice line variation despite being so small, and is really an all-around great pen, if legend is to be believed :] An alternative to buying the Pilot Falcon would be getting the Pilot 912 FA, which has something called the "Falcon Nib," not to be confused with the actual pen. They actually look pretty different. The FA nib (right) has these weird cuts on their side that help with flexing and allow it to mimic a full-flex nib, but again. According to legend, modern pens don't flex like vintage pens do, but it IS pretty close.

(sources mentioned in alt text)

I've never used either myself, but I'm pretty picky about my pens and so I don't know if I'd ever pay upwards of $200 unless I got familiar with the nib first tbh....The falcon's nib isn't offputting to me like many feel about it, but I'm particular about aesthetics and the feedback on paper and I can't tell if I like them just from looks alone lol. Right now, I don't have much experience with pilot nibs, but if i were to get a pilot pen, tbh I'm looking at the Pilot Elite/e95s in a fine or medium, or a vintage platinum pocket pen.

Anyways that's that and this is also that. *twirls so elegantly and then collapses onto the ground in slapstick fashion*

[yoditopascal]

Cocoa Butter

bodyguard! logan howlett x boss’ daughter reader

summary: He’s the best there is at what he does but what he does isn’t always very nice.

content warning: mutual pining, scenting, scent kink, age gap, size difference smut, p in v, slight innocence kink towards the end??, violent behavior (logan beats a guy up for you and it kinda turns you on), MINORS DNI

a/n: This was definitely inspired by that one gif of him from DOFP

Logan swore he wouldn't fall to his knees for a pretty little young thing like you. With your big doe eyes, soft curves and that cute little ass o’ yours that you always had wrapped up in those tiny little short shorts. He couldn’t, you were the boss’ daughter after all, but when you swayed your hips and batted your lashes at him like that… god was it tempting. You were just so inviting and deliciously sweet.

Like heaven wrapped in gold foil and lip gloss. Your dad’s guys used to joke to him about you, that is until he beat the shit outta one of them.

Now most of them don’t even make eye contact with you.

Good, he preferred it that way anyways.

His heart beat rapidly in his chest, the possessive streak he felt for you flaring up as he watched you converse with the guy at the bar that had been buying you drinks all night. The guy no doubt had no idea who you were, or who he was for that matter.

Five drinks in and he was practically itching for a fight, hoping that the motherfucker you were laughing with like he was the funniest bastard in the world would slip up and do something so he could take him out back and show him what happens when you mess with what’s his.

His.

You weren’t anyone’s you liked to remind him.

He knew you could handle yourself, you were more than capable of holding your own and you’ve told him plenty of times that he hovers too much, so why was he getting all antsy over this guy?

Logan swore he wasn’t a jealous person, never had a reason to be, until he met you, but watching everyone watching you for the past few hours while you smiled and laughed and danced like you didn’t give a shit about anything, had him ready to kill the next guy who breathed at you wrong.

Maybe it was the few drinks he had but he could have sworn he saw you look over at him a couple of times too.

Like you were doing this on purpose.

What he didn’t know was that he was the reason you were so confident and carefree. His presence alone was your peace. He was your scary dog privilege. It was nice to know that someone had you.

One of your dad’s men annoying you? He’ll handle it.

Some guy at the bar can’t take the hint? Don't worry your pretty little head about it, Logan’s got it.

He was your dad’s most trusted guy and he was the best there is at what he did and what he did? Well it wasn’t always very nice.

Ignoring the growing urge to go over there and drag you away, Logan throws back the rest of his drink, whiskey on the rocks, and flags the waitress in the black cocktail dress down for another.

Taking a drag from his cigar, the ones he’s pretty sure he’s not supposed to have in the club but who the fuck was brave enough to tell him he couldn’t have it, he tears his eyes away from scanning the room when he hears you.

Your voice is soft as you politely reject the guy, so soft you almost couldn’t hear it over the shitty music and the buzz of people in the crowd around him, if it wasn’t for his mutation.

Apparently this greasy ass clown can’t take the hint as his hand clamps down harshly around your wrist pulling you closer to him as you try to pull away.

He’s on his feet before he can register what he’s doing.

He tries to tell himself you’re totally capable of holding your own, you can snatch your arm away and tell the guy off yourself but when he sees the shit stain lean in to kiss you and raise a hand as if to strike you when you turn away, Logan is seeing red.

In the blink of an eye he’s already across the room dragging the guy off his stool and out the back. His fist meets his mouth first, teeth cutting the skin of his knuckles but he doesn’t care. Bone crunches on bone as Logan continues to beat the guy into an unrecognizable barely conscious mess.

He doesn’t stop until he feels your delicate hand brush up against his back, and he turns to look at you.

You stand behind him as he turns until you’re damn near chest to chest, pupils blown wide as your eyes bore up into him from below his chin. Even in your highest heels you still don’t quite reach him. The guy groans in pain from the ground beneath your feet but neither of you care, far too wrapped up in each other to even notice he’s still there bleeding out.

"Can't make my job easy, can ya kid?" He smirks down at you wiping at his nose with a bloody hand.

He goes to say something else but it catches in his throat when he catches a whiff of something in the air.

God he could smell you.

“You doin ok darlin’?” He asks, voice sultry as he leaned closer to you inhaling.

This is dangerous territory, he knows it and so do you but neither of you can bring yourselves to care in the moment. It’s one you’ve both been skating around for months now.

“Y-yeah I just-“ you start biting your lip as you lose yourself in thought for a second.

“You ready to take me home big guy?” You ask, still biting that god damn lip between your teeth as you look up at him through your lashes like you always did when you wanted something from him.

“Always.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When you get to your apartment he’s already on you, not even giving you a chance to get through the door fully. His mouth carving a path from your neck to your mouth as he walks you backwards towards your room, pushing you down to the bed beneath you as he wraps himself around you.

He clings to you, hands grabbing your hips as he grinds himself into you, nuzzling his nose into your neck, taking in deep greedy draws of your scent. Shea and cocoa butter mixed with the tantalizing aroma of you. Always that goddamn cocoa butter. He could cover himself in your scent if he could and it still wouldn’t be enough for him.

You're a whiny squirming mess as he kisses up and down your neck, one of his hands squeezes at your tits. He’s barely touched you and could already smell how wet you were, just for him.

Pulling away Logan looks down at you, eyes half lidded as he strokes a calloused thumb over your soft swollen bottom lip.

You had dick sucking lips, one of the guys had told him his first week here. He shattered his bones with just his fists, now the guy walks with a limp.

He didn’t want the think about that now, not when your hands we’re tangling themselves in his shirt. With a latch he pulls his shirt over his head as he watches you fumble with his belt biting your lip. He leans down to take it in his mouth once more before he’s shedding himself of his pants and underwear pulling yours off with them.

He wraps a heavy arm around your back bringing you to his chest as he puts you on his lap, the hem of your pretty little dress hiked up over your ass, as he nestles his big cock deep inside you. He sinks his teeth into your neck and the flesh of the slopes of your chest as the straps slip further down your shoulder with every thrust of his hips.

“Logan...” Your voice came out as a whimper as he trails his hand down to grip your ass.

“You doing alright sweetheart?” Logan asks between thrusts. He knew it was too much for you, but it was what you asked for, and who was he to deny you anything you asked for.

Reaching behind you he unzips your dress before he’s yanking it over your head, your bra soon joining in the growing pile of both your clothes on the floor. Never missing a beat as he kept plunging into you.

He’s so fucking big, and he knows it too as smirks into your mouth. He’s moving like a younger man. Not that you really even wanted anyone your age. Guys your age didn’t know what to do with a gal like you.

“Easy princess, eyes on me.” He said as your eyes start to close as you lose focus, he knew you were close by the way your gimpy walls kept fluttering around him. Grabbing your face with one hand he forces you to look him dead in his hazel eyes as he keeps up his pace. He pulls you into a searing kiss as he releases your face with a dark chuckle before grabbing both your hands in one of his.

“Keep ‘em here for me.” He says placing your hands over his shoulders as he lays you back on the bed as he locks in, the bed’s frame creaking beneath you at the strength of his thrusts, the headboard hitting the wall behind you with equal force.

Your neighbors were definitely gonna have something to complain about in the morning.

A chill runs down your spine when you feel him exhale a strangled breath into your neck, as he reaches down to rub fierce circles into your clit. He was getting close too.

Glancing down, a smile settles on his lips at the sight of your dripping cunt gripping him in its tight wet hold before he pulls away and settles back in again. He could watch himself disappear in and out of you all night if he could. He teases you as he continues his assault, calling you all types of sweet nothings as he watches your face contorts in pleasure as you clumsily try to keep up with him.

Your moans become muffled as you press yourself against him. That tight coil in your stomach tightening ever so slightly threatening to explode. Goosebumps prickling your skin as you shook violently against him as you finally let go dragging him along with you with a harsh grunt, nails digging into him desperately, most likely drawing blood.

“I know, baby. I gotcha.” He coos rubbing at your sides as you cry out, eyes glazed over with fresh tears. He pauses his movements for a moment to give you a minute but literally only for a minute before he’s back on you kissing and sucking down your neck before he pulls away.

“Hey look at me, kid.” He huffs as he leans down to kiss you. “We’re not done yet.”

“B-but you already-!” You start but are cut off by a moan that’s bubbled up into your throat as you feel him, still hard, as he starts back up again.

“We’re done when I say we’re done.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Logan’s ripped from his sleep by the sound of your front door opening and closing. Before he even has a chance to attempt to get up, your bedroom door opens suddenly, hitting the wall behind it with a soft thud.

“What the fuck!” Said one of your dad’s men as he stared at the two of you in shock. Another one came flying into the room behind him, gun drawn, until he catches sight of you, he looks back and forth between the two of you before he casts his eyes to the ground, going to pull the other guy out of the room with a visible limp.

“You wanna keep your mouth shut?” Logan hisses voice still laced with sleep as he pulls the sheets further up to cover your back. Thank fuck you were a hard sleeper when you were really tired.

“I-I’m sorry man it just-“ the first man starts to stammer as he asks unceremoniously “Did you really have sex with her?!” Smacking a hand over his own mouth just as shocked, but definitely not as pissed as Logan, was that he had said that, he stumbled to follow his companion out the room.

It’s here at your little table in the middle of your kitchen, that Logan finds the two goons. They both jump to their feet at the sight of him, one albeit faster than the other.

“What the fuck are you two clowns even doing here?” Logan said gently, closing the door behind him. His pants resting haphazardly on his hips.

“She never checked in last night after leaving the club like she usually does,” the other guy says, turning away as Logan went to zip up his pants. Of course, how could he forget how much of a good girl you were. “Boss was worried, gave us a key and everything.”

“Yeah sorry man! If we woulda known-“ the other chimed in, his voice was starting to grate on his nerves.

“Did you really sleep with her, Logan?” The other guy cuts him off. He’s staring Logan dead in his eyes to answer him so he could run off and tell the boss, like he actually had anything on him. He was challenging him and he’d be damned if he let him get away with it.

“I did yeah, the fuck are you gonna do about it?”

[yeyinde]

The 141 finding out you've never had sex.

Just casually drinking, playing cards. A joke causes it to slip out.

body electric: the virgin edition

Gaz, the instigator, mutters something about not having been fucked in ages. this springs up a sudden surge of comradery, because, yeah. neither have they.

Soap's devote Catholicism (i like to imagine) leaves little room for flippant intimacy. he tries to be a good boy. key word, of course, being: tries. but the last serious relationship was years ago. back when he was grunt. he's pent up. abstinence, yeah? he holds it tight in his hand. but the thing about fists is that they're often mistaken for anger. Soap's a realist masquerading as an optimist. he knows whoever falls into his jowls next will be a MacTavish by the time he's through with them. and commitment. well. his comes at a price. a hefty one.

Ghost prefers casual flings where he doesn't have to take any clothes off. unzips his trousers, frees his cock, and then tries to pretend he's a real, flesh and blood, human. to feel something, anything, except a vacuum between hollow bones. but his tastes are peculiar. on the side of unhinged. he hasn't found the perfect body yet satiate himself with.

Price. well. with his bloody hands, he thinks he'd rather not dirty the same people he swears to protect. and divorcing at the age of 30 does that to a man, maybe. his role as a captain (an excuse in retrospect) also keeps him from unleashing his wants. the very same ones that are probably best under lock and key, anyway. it's just for the best, really. something he ought to do because the moment he has another chance to sink his teeth into someone's neck, he'll tear them apart. break them into pieces.

despite bringing it up, Gaz knows the real reason he's single is because he's pushy. he wants. so he takes. and then takes some more. more. more. until his gullet is full of the person he's obsessed with. carrying them around in his breast pocket everywhere he goes. the perfect mate. the one he can shower with unfettered affection. a deluge, in all honesty. one with the ideation to drown. biblical floods. trapped beneath him. he likes it more than he should, but. singedom, then, he supposes.

and then you roll the dice. admit, sheepishly, that, technically, you have them all beat. zero is always lesser than five, ten, twenty. but it's this misstep—zero, never—that catches their attention.

suddenly, you're not surrounded by kin but a pack of wolves. all hungry in their own ways, all starving. it just makes sense to quench their hunger with you, doesn't it? friend, ally. pretty little thing. so sweet for them. and perfectly mouldable. putty they shape to their hearts desire. the perfect mate.

Soap grips his rosary. the sign of the cross, heavenly Father and Holy Spirit, digging into his palm like the burn of a baptism. what's devotion if not pain? he cuts himself on the gold. offers blood of the sacrament to whoever might be listening, and leans in, sniffing.

Price's knuckles are white. he leans back, hidden in shadows. all you can see is spark of burning orange from his cigar as he takes mouthful after mouthful of smoke, contemplating. assessing.

"that so?" he doesn't even need to look at his Lieutenant to know that the man has gone still. too bad for you, it's not from shock.

Ghost barely holds himself back. keeps tight in his seat. fists clenching. unclenching. he has a good enough read on the people around him to see the unfiltered desire ripping across their face. scorching. but to bite, with his mouthful of jagged, seraded teeth; ones meant to rip, break, tear, would ruin you. permanently. unequivocally. and—

"wanna give it a go?" all eyes turn to Gaz, electric in his seat. eyes smouldering umbre. "i mean, you trust us the most, don't you?" us. it's stunning, he thinks, the way Gaz can weave tapestry in the air like this with just his words. one tangled like shibari binds. "and we care for you a lot. we'll be gentle. it's up to you, of course, but—"

Soap's bloody hand disappears under the table. you gasp. "yer askin' fer it, ain't ye? beggin' so pretty fer it."

"n-no, i—"

"mind your manners." Price. his voice is chiselled into char, authoritative; low. a lulling command spoken in a breath of smoke. "and don't lie, love. or i'll have to take you over my knee."

the tension is thick. Soap's arm moves, slow. deliberate. Ghost has clench his jaw to avoid bearing his teeth. snarling.

Gaz cuts it with a knife. hews compliance into your skin with a fine needle point. "it's okay. we'll take such good care'a you. make you feel so good."

your submission is a heavy thing. oppressive. the shallow dip of your chin, the blistering heat simmering under your flesh, burning right, is the prettiest fuckin' thing he's ever seen. he does clench his jaw this time. tight, tight. tight

until something pops.

"okay." you yield. head bowed. beautifully submissive.

when he looks around, catches the predatory crackle in the air. his hackles raise. immediate. instinctual. and ah, right.

it's easy to forget he's surrounded by a wild pack of stray dogs. starving ones, too.

[moondirti]

kyle yearns for his captain's approval. you're the perfect medium through which he can secure it.

featuring: gaz x fem!reader x price. very consensual. fondling. inspection. fluff. praise kink. objectification. cucking? anal play. mentions of dp and breeding. 4k words of nonsense.

when price asks gaz if he's got anyone at home, gaz answers.

truthfully. he'd be hesitant to admit that he does to anyone else – soap especially, what with his track record of worming his way into people's pants – but his captain is... his captain. jonathan price. a real force of nature, cursed with an uncanny determinism and a habit of getting what he wants regardless of if those around him are willing. gaz knows that price will find out eventually; when the ring he's been planning to purchase for months finds it's way onto your finger, and he requests a change be made to the dependants section of his paperwork. perhaps before then too, if he really did some digging. but gaz also knows that, if there were anyone to trust with this precious knowledge, it'd be him.

so, he tells him about the little number he's got tucked away in a home in south oxfordshire. it's the lazy afternoon before a big mission, and he shouldn't be drinking but he is, a tumbler cradled between his palms and the burn of rye whiskey loosening his tongue. price doesn't speak, just listens, as the sergeant gradually devolves into more and more detail about your meeting, your courtship, the work you distract yourself with when he's not around. and despite his reverence, he admits it all breathlessly, a sheepishness pervading every word. how is he expected to keep his composure when the air is so heavy? unrelenting scrutiny and the potent waft of cigar-smoke draw a hot flush to his skin, the older man humming every so often as a prompt for him to continue.

he wants to, oddly enough. gaz is a reticent man, second only to ghost when it comes to keeping his life private. but something about this circumstance has him ready to lay it all bare. he wants to tell price about how you kiss his neck, the wicked fucking ways in which you use your mouth to milk him dry. he wants to pull out his phone, scroll through the hidden album full of pictures of your tits, of home-made films that paint you in a cum-covered, dazzling light. he wants price to know that he chose right, wants to hear the praise whispered in his ear as his captain lays a sturdy clap onto his back.

instead, he shrugs.

"not much more to tell, cap."

"damn shame." price taps his cigar to rid of the ashes. "sounds like a proper match, garrick. good for you."

and it's enough. a big enough lump of wood to keep the needy fire in his belly roaring. he shifts in his seat to dissuade the heat, rubbing his jaw in contemplation like he hasn't already thought of a perfect way to reap more.

"tell you what, sir. we survive this next assignment, i'll bring you over to meet 'er."

it's a hairbreadth escape, but they do manage to make it back alive, albeit a bit more scarred than they once were. gaz gets home late at night to find you awake, waiting on him despite the incredibly short notice he'd given you for his arrival. it's there – in the foyer, his nose buried in your neck as you babble on about how much you missed him, and what you'll make for breakfast to celebrate, and questions like hey, are you okay? that cut looks fresh or when was the last time you slept? – that he breaks the news. you'll be having his captain over for dinner in two week's time.

of course you're overjoyed. you've been begging to meet the people he risks his life with ever since he told you what he did for work. the planning is immediate. you're dumping recipes on him the next morning, asking for his opinion on what appetiser, main, and dessert your guest of honour would enjoy best. and what's his poison, anyway? i can get my hands on a nice bottle of scotch if you think it'd be worth it. kyle doesn't have the heart to tell you that nothing you'll do would matter much, that price has already taken a liking to you. besides, if anything, your homemaking ability makes him chub up in his pants. best not to rob himself of that delight.

the night arrives as quick as it had been put forward. gaz has to dodge your attempts to put a tie on him, stifles your complaints with a kiss and insists that it's not that kind of dinner party. you're confused (bless you) but flit around making last minute preparations in your bustier midi-dress anyway, kitten-heels clicking against the polished hardwood floors. at a certain point, he can tell that you're fussing over nothing and pulls you by the hand to stand by the doorway with him.

"there's something i didn't mention earlier." he whispers when you're finally settled, tucking his index finger under your chin. your brows knit anxiously. he pecks the canyons between them, stroking your bottom lip until the frazzled energy bleeds from you.

"why would you wait? there's not enough t–"

"not exactly something you can plan for, doll. s'just gonna happen." when you fail to push him for more context, he sighs. "price is expecting to see you."

"sure... that's the whole point, isn't it?"

"no, sweetheart." gaz's free hand wraps around your waist, lowering until it reaches the plush sweel of your ass. his touch lays breadcrumbs for you to follow, leading you down the very depraved path he's trekked a million times the past few weeks. "i mean all of you."

your lips part in realization. oh. he's scared straight for a second, heart hammering like it always does when he reveals a darker fantasy to you. but you merely smile – anxious, sure, pupils clouded with fresh concern, but a smile nonetheless – and accept his admission gracefully.

"and you want me to let him?"

gaz nods. "if you'd please."

you place a chaste kiss on his cheek, careful not to smear your makeup onto his clean-shaven skin. "okay."

he visibly slackens, an edge of playfulness cutting it's way back into his tone. "what's say we take those panties off, make things easier when the time arrives?"

"can' remember the last time i had a beef welly this good, love. family recipe?"

"yes, actually! but it took me some time to perfect for my own. the original called for sherry in the duxelle, but i always thought wine was better suited."

kyle doesn't know if he's ever been more proud of you.

you're a vision. the paradigm of charm. he half feared things to would be awkward following your conversation at the doorway, but aside from the first few minutes of price's arrival – the time it took everyone to thaw the ice of unfamiliarity – you've been anything but stilted. in fact, he worries that you missed the true implication of his request – of the direction things will take later – given the way you laugh openly. the ease in which you bridge conversation topics. your attentiveness, eyes roving over both your boyfriend and his captain to ensure everyone has everything they need. you certainly don't act like a girl who's going to be nakedly appraised tonight. all the expected clumsiness, the stumbling over your own words, replaced instead by eloquence and quick wit.

sweet girl. bloody... beautiful, darling girl.

price seems to think so too. he chuckles heartily at the stories you offer of kyle failing learning to waterski during your anniversary trip to mauritius (and offers his own insight too, something along the lines of how you'd expect the sergeant to be better balanced, given he's survived hanging off a helicopter before). offers some solid advice on how to deal with the ostentatious coworker whose been bugging you for months. and when you question him about his personal life – a line every good soldier knows not to take with their CO, which has gaz wincing internally – all your guest offers is a genuine, crinkle-eye smile. no doubt appreciative of the non-intrusive manner you ask.

he shoots gaz a look before answering, and it's one full of tacky warmth. a look he's seen several times on the field, molasses sweet and satisfying, one that invades his private thoughts too often to admit. whose effect he knows only comes off in a cold shower, a quick pump to his cock if you're not around to help relieve it. something like approval. unspoken praise.

"wish i could say i've been blessed like the two of ya. married to my work, m'afraid."

"oh." you wave your arms, standing to clear the table of dirty plates. "don't be ridiculous, john. you're a wonderful man. put yourself out there and i'm sure it'll come to you." you say it like it's breathing, and just as easily prance away to the kitchen, your voice losing to the clatter of silverware in the sink. thus, when you yell out something about dessert (price is really only able to decipher i made madeira! over the illegible chorus of cabinets closing) kyle is the one to answer you. well-trained in untangling your voice from any sort of ruckus, poor cell reception and moans and drunk gibberish and the obstructive fabric of his hoodie when you sob into his chest.

"maybe later, doll!" he voices back, scratching the back of his neck as he takes in the food still laid out in front of them. picked apart by hungry forks but still, enough to make up days worth of leftovers.

"mm. the girl stuffed me full, garrick." price stretches from his seat. "if i didnt know any better, i'd reckon you lot were fattening me up to feast on me come winter."

gaz stores the remains of your meal into nearby tupperwares then follows suit, urging his captain to follow him into the lounge. "please," he laughs, nodding when the man pulls a cigar from his pocket and twists it in a silent question. "she thinks they starve us out there. tries to make up for it by feedin' me into oblivion when i'm home."

"speak for yourself. i could do with a home-cooked meal every now 'n' then." the captain takes a puff of the maduro between his fingers, lets the smoke cloud his hindbrain. your house smells so much like you, like kyle and you – warm laundry and anise and jasmine – that he feels a quick lick of guilt at ruining the fragile balance of it. too little too late, too – the scent of leather and oily spice pervades the space.

but you don't mention it once you waltz back in, smoothing your hands across the back of your dress. "if we don't get a chance to try the cake tonight, remind me to send you home with some, john." gaz poorly conceals his laugh with a cough, sinking into the cushion when you shoot him an offended look. "what?"

"nothing," he pouts, then hides his next words behind the back of his hand, whispering to price. "i told you."

"i can hear you, you twat!" you flick his ear, brows furrowed in faux irritation as your boyfriend wraps an arm around your legs.

"i know! hey– i know, gorgeous. was only joking." his forehead nudges your tummy, restless until you comb your hand over his tight curls. "th'captain knows that too. isn't that right, sir?"

"of course."

"you laugh now, but wait until you're halfway through a month long mission. you'll wish you had me around!"

"don't i know it." kyle murmurs, the fingers at the back of your thigh slowly creeping upward. the skirt of your dress slips, climbs up your legs with the motion of his forearm, and all too suddenly he remembers your lack of undergarments.

fuck. he almost forget he pocketed your panties. and you... you've been so natural, such a good hostess despite the cold brush of air constantly on your cunt. it flips a primal switch inside him – that same trigger that'd prompted mention of this night in the first place. blood rushes to his cock so fast it hurts, desperation flooding his lungs until the only thing he can breathe out is your name.

"hmmm." you smile in return. and if price weren't here, he'd bury his nose into the canyon between your legs and take a deep inhale of your natural musk.

but he is, and so all gaz can manage is a quiet: "how about you show the captain our little surprise?"

"oh?" the man in question hums. dangerously relaxed, two legs spread and his posture curved as he watches the little display you put on for him. "what's this about a surprise, then?"

you bite your lip, raking your nails down from your boyfriend's neck to his shoulder and placing a tight, reassuring squeeze there before breaking away. nothing is said as you push an ottoman between price's knees, making sure it's steady before pushing him to rest against the back of the couch.

"do you like my dress?" you practically purr, bending over as to pronounce your tits. kyle's breath stutters, watching for the way superior's eyes take in your form. gratification swells in his belly when he just smiles, patting your hip.

"s'that really a question that needs to be asked, lovie? you know the answer."

an adorable mix between a shrug and giggle is all you give. "kyle says you want to see me."

"aye. i do."

"and i wanna make him happy."

"same for me."

and kyle thinks he could just cum in his pants if this keeps up. he feels filthy, both an observer and the main act in this spectacle. the knowledge that his captain doesn't just want you, the love of his life, but him too works away at him, hollowing him out until he's nothing but a husk of docile yearning.

"so, what'll it be?" you say.

"turn around. elbows on the ottoman, knees on either side of my thighs."

you obey instantly, lamplight catching the heated flush of your skin while you position yourself according to price's wishes. your back arcs so that your ass is prominently within his view, plump even beneath the loose material of your dress.

"kyle."

"sir." he coughs, shifting to conspicuously adjust the aching mass tucked in his waistband.

"on your knees, son. righ' here beside me. when i ask a question, you're expected to answer."

"yes, sir."

"got tha' that, lovie?" he grunts. "respond now, and then it's silence from you."

"okay!" you wiggle your hips, forgetting yourself for a moment. "sir!"

this gaz can do. following orders. grounded pragmatism, however far this is from a professional setting. he figures price has gleaned as much, has given him this task so he doesn't flounder off track throughout the evening and ruin things for everyone. the hard part is over then, all of that hesitant foreplay – of opening up, getting you to agree, of the stretch of time it took for everyone to warm up to one another – wrapped up for something simpler.

all he has to worry about is answering promptly and correctly while he watches his captain–

flip your skirt over your hips.

a low whistle. then, two hands on your backside, kneading the soft flesh there. working either globe apart like dough, the glistening seam of your most private parts spread open to prying eyes. price appraises your cunt for the first time like he would a winning showdog, or the sky on a particularly pleasant day. all utilitarian-like. if it weren't for the bulge in his trousers, your boyfriend would almost be offended.

"no panties, hm?"

"no-" you start, squeaking out an apology when you earn a firm swat to your thigh.

"i asked her to go without them tonight. thought... you'd appreciate it, sir." kyle replies, swallowing the saliva that arises upon seeing your lips flutter.

"good lad." a hot flash of arousal breaks across his chest. the captain lets go of his grip on your ass, watching how the fat jiggles back into place, then returns to squeezing it. "surprised i couldn't smell 'er, way she was dancing around us all night."

it isn't a question, so gaz stays quiet.

the groping continues. sometimes its light – brushes of calloused palms across the area, disturbing the stillness like a rock skipping over water. you ripple when he pokes, shake when he taps. other times, and increasingly once price notes your resilience to pain, it borders on rough. moulding your flesh into compact pinches, jabbing his thumb into the softness so hard it'll bruise. you take it all with grace, a low whine building in your chest that he let's go unpunished.

"she's taking this well. you rough her up often?"

"when she asks, sir." he thinks for a moment, catching your wily smile from the corner of his eye. minx. "likes it more than i do giving it to her."

"need someone to take care of the both of ya." price chuckles, then moves on, oblivious to the way the sergeant's hips buck at his implication. or, maybe he notices – probably does – and stores it away for another time. "looks like a greedy little pussy to me." his thumbs hook onto either side of your labia, pulling it apart like fresh bed to reveal the sloppy mess between. your clit is enflamed, angry for being neglected for so long. if you were allowed to speak, kyle can guarantee with almost a hundred percent certainty that you'd be whining to be touched. "look a' tha'." price's accent grows thicker. "fat little thing just jumping for attention."

he curls a finger, then flicks the swollen bud. a loud moan bursts from you, your face falling between your forearms as you hold yourself back from begging. gaz would've acquiesced by now, would've rubbing the bundle of nerves raw the second you fanned your pretty lashes up at him.

but price snaps it three more times in rapid succession, which apparently is too much for you to handle because you yell. "p-please!"

he remedies your slip up with a slap to the same area. the crack on impact echoes long enough to tell him that one hurt. "shhh. so spoiled, sergeant. how often do you make her cum?"

"a-at least three times a go, sir."

"what's the record?"

"eight."

"and the longest you've held off?"

kyle hesitates, bowing his head for the reprimand he knows is coming. "never... never tried. sir."

"tch."

a precision blow. swift but petrifying. the captain's managed to find both your loose strings in a matter of minutes, tugging to see them come undone on his lap. gaz has got the unwavering urge to rest his chin on his strong thigh, put it on the record that he isn't weak willed, just indulgent. something that can be easily remedied, with his guidance. if he'd let him.

and you...

you're gyrating your hips, begging for some pressure on your aching centre. price gives it to you, though not in the way you expect, pinching your clit and tightening his hold until you're motionless, muscles trembling but otherwise perfectly poised.

so the inspection continues. he fans out your vulva, exposing the hole that clenches around nothing. a laugh wracks his frame at the sight, the aftermath of it husky. amused. "begging to be filled, a'right. how many cocks has she had in 'ere?"

"just mine, sir. and her toys."

"how about at once?"

kyle's never been so bold with you; has always held back that godless part of him, that needy dog he sees his comrades often embrace. pure, unfettered degeneracy. you're soft, and pretty and good and a high-functioning member of society. and he's never once wanted to see you hurt, uncomfortable or bite-mark-bloodied, despite the way his mind screams at him to at least ask. see if you'd be willing to appease that side of him.

yet you visibly shiver at the thought proposed by price, gooseflesh pocking your skin, and he knows he should have thrown caution to the wind.

"one, sir."

he watches the man's finger outline the circumference of your opening, dipping in by the millimetre to test the waters. "shame. could probably stretch her out. get 'er nice and loose for whenever you wan' something to keep you warm without the commitment."

the finger plunges in.

gaz watches you swallow his superior to the last knuckle in what must be a world-record, no time to blink lest he misses it. price goes with the motion, setting his free hand onto your ass to keep you steady as he wiggles his digit to make space amidst the tight embrace of your walls. or, that's what he thinks is happening. the only indication he has of things are the lewd squelches your cunt emits and the face of pure ecstasy you pull. but he's well-versed enough in your bodily functions that he's sure of his estimate.

"scratch wha' i said. nothing beats this." his superior groans, and for the first time that night, adjusts himself in his pants. kyle wishes he would pull it out, allow himself the relief of freeing a raging hard-on from its confines. but kyle also wishes that he could be given something to do, something with his mouth perhaps, to sate the unaddressed thrill in his bones. it wouldn't take a smart man to figure out that both wishes are very much correlated. "fucking suffocating clutch. wouldn' pull out if my life depended on it. pussy like this isn' made for that, garrick."

"sir?"

"you cum inside her, lad?"

"i- yes. i-i do. she's on birth control."

"best to see to that, then." he says, like the contraceptive is an obstacle and not a consolation. you release another, long-winded moan, to which price pulls his finger out to pat your vulva. like taming a wild animal. "though what i said still stands. could always do with a loose hole."

his hand inches up.

this time, it's gaz who groans.

loudly. his eyes fluttering halfway shut, hands tugging at the tight fabric over his groin. you throw a curious look over your shoulder, concern glossing your pupils until you confirm that the source of the sound isn't pain, but pleasure. ecstasy at finally having his wants vocalised, that incessant impulse that nags and nags and nags anytime he's fucking you from behind, tight rim practically leering up at him, tempting him to thrust upwards and 'accidentally' slip in.

"you like that, sergeant? hm? ever use this asshole? it looks unbroken to me."

"y-you're... not wrong, sir. i–"

"but you want to?" he finishes for him, scooping some of the abundant slick from your cunt and slathering it onto your back entrance. it's not enough lubrication to do anything but press one thumb in, but he repeats the process to push the other in alongside it.

"yeah."

you give him a look that can't mean anything except we'll talk about this later and he can bloody kiss price if he was given permission to, if not for anything but helping him open this impossible subject with you.

"we'll see to tha' some other day, then."

his thumbs retreat. your hole winks shut again. gaz is torn between looking at you or his captain, but the latter man robs him of the indecision by bringing his dominant index and middle fingers to his lips. they're shiny with the remnants of your fluids, as if he needed any incitement to wrap his mouth around the digits. he works at them until price's fingers prune, laving his tongue around the knuckles, against the nail beds, all the way through to the fold of skin between them.

so desperate to please, to see to it that 'some other day' is everyday henceforth.

a future with price by your sides. beyond just the field. the bite in your supple existence. spice supporting anise and jasmine, some aphrodisiac blend that'll carry you through to the end of your lives, happy. sated. a mediator. commander. captain. his captain.

"that's a good boy."

he could really get used to this.

[dreamwritesimagines]

Sunshine [3] - Downpour

AN: My loves, thank you so so much for your wonderful support and lovely comments and HCs! ❤️ You're amazing! ❤️

I hope you like this as well, and please don't forget to tell me what you think, thank you! 🥰

Thanks to @chibi-lioness for beta reading!

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Female!Reader

Summary: Evening rain comes out of nowhere.

Word Count: 4540

CW: Smoking cigars, explicit language

Series Masterlist

Fine.

Maybe you did have a crush.

And maybe the said crush was taking over all your thoughts to the point that you could barely focus on anything other than him, but that was completely normal.

Just like you and your best friend analyzing every single second of your interaction with your crush was completely normal.

“He actually lifted your car?”

You nodded your head, filling both her glass and yours with wine before tucking your legs under you.

“With one hand,” you said, leaning back to the arm of the couch. “He did that with one hand.”

“And you didn’t jump his bones right then and there?”

“No but I may have rambled about going to jail if the car fell on him and also not knowing who would take care of Theo.”

“What is that even supposed to mean?” she asked with a scoff. “I’d take care of Theo. We’d come to visit you every weekend.”

“Thanks Julie.”

“I’d even sign you up for those inmate dating websites.”

You blinked a couple of times. “Uh, no thank you.”

“Hey, if you accidentally kill the ridiculously hot mutant guy—”

“Logan.”

“Yeah, Logan. If you accidentally kill him, you might as well exchange some dirty letters with someone else.”

“Can we please focus on the fact that I actually have a crush on him?”

“We absolutely can,” Julie grinned, swirling the wine in her glass. “Aw look at you! It’s cute.”

“It’s not cute!” you whined, slipping a little on the couch. “Julie, I talk absolute nonsense whenever he and I cross paths.”

“Babe, I mean it in the best way possible,” she said and motioned at your face. “I doubt any guy really listens to any word coming out of your mouth when you look like this, so you’re fine.”

“So not true,” you stated and sipped your wine. “I mean either way, it’s not like anything could happen between us so I’ll just, you know, fantasize about him and gaze at him longingly. Should be fine.”

Julie rolled her eyes at you. “Come on.”

“No seriously, because Theo—”

“Sweetheart,” she said. “You got pregnant at 18. Don’t get me wrong, I think Theo is the most perfect kid in the entire world but keep in mind that while we were all out partying, you were taking care of a baby.”

“It’s fine, I lived vicariously through you.”

“And now that you’re in your twenties and hot as fuck,” Julie said, ignoring your comment. “You don’t think it’s time to live a little?”

“It’d confuse Theo if I started dating around, especially with Logan—”

“Fine, then don’t date Logan. Just fuck his brains out.”

“Nope,” you said, shaking your head. “I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“Because the moment I sleep with him, I will be trying to decide on the wallpaper of our future cabin in the woods,” you pointed out, getting a handful of popcorn from the bowl and she scoffed.

“I still can’t believe you want a cabin in the woods.”

“I want a cabin in the woods and I want a horse and a cat and two dogs,” you insisted. “Anyway, the point is, no strings attached is not a thing for me when it comes to a guy that hot. He lifted a car for me, Julie!”

“And you want him to lift you up and down repeatedly,” Julie said with a grin, making you throw a popcorn at her.

“I doubt I’m his type,” you said and she groaned.

“You cannot be serious.”

“No I am, because men like him go for…” you trailed off and threw your head back. “Ugh, I so want to show you his picture so that you’ll know what I’m talking about but I don’t have one!”

“I have this mental image of a very hot lumberjack in mind.”

“That would be correct,” you said before taking a sip of your wine, but then your phone started vibrating on the table and you frowned, then snatched it off the table when you saw the caller ID.

“Theo?” you answered immediately. “Are you alright?”

“Hi mommy!”

You let out a breath at the cheerful tone of his voice, then pressed a hand on your chest and checked the time on the phone.

“What are you doing up, bean?” you asked. “It’s late at night.”

“I couldn’t sleep,” he said. “What are you doing?”

“I’m with auntie Julie,” you said and Julie grinned.

“Hi Theo, I missed you sweetheart!” she called out, making Theo giggle.

“Hi auntie Julie!” he said. “Mommy, I thought about it, and I solved how I can have fish.”

You closed your eyes for a moment, a smile pulling at your lips as you shook your head.

“I’m listening, bean.”

“Okay so,” he said. “We will get two fish, and we will put them in an aquarium, but like a bowl, not a huge aquarium.”

You hummed.

“That’s where they’ll stay at the weekends when I’m there,” he said. “And then, on weekdays, I will bring them here, and put them in the lake, and that’s where they can stay within the week! They’d even make friends with other fish!”

You let out a small laugh.

“Theo, my love,” you said. “How will you catch them again if you put them in the lake?”

He paused for a moment.

“Um, I’d call them by their names,” he said. “Cheeto and Popcorn. They’d come.”

“Fish don’t do that baby,” you said softly. “How about you make friends with fish there in the lake and on the weekends they can just spend time with their own friends?”

“Yes but—” he started but then got distracted for a moment by something. “It’s my mom!”

“I know bub,” you heard Logan’s deep voice and your eyes widened. You sat up straight immediately, making Julie tilt her head in confusion. “Tell her I said hi.”

“Mommy, Mr. Logan says hi to you.”

“Uh, tell him I said hi back,” you said after a beat, hearing Theo parrot what you said as you covered the bottom part of the phone with your palm, then mouthed ‘Logan’ to Julie.

“What?!” she whispered and you cleared your throat.

“And tell him to please watch that you don’t have any sweets before bed, for his sake.”

“No!”

“Bean.”

“Ugh fine!” he said. “Mr Logan, my mom says please watch that I don’t have any sweets before bed for your sake.”

You could hear Logan’s chuckle, making you bite at your lip before he spoke.

“Can I borrow the phone for a minute Theo?”

Your jaw dropped and you motioned at the phone frantically, and Julie pulled you by the arm and made you lower the phone a little so that she could hear as well. You pressed your finger to your lips, signaling her to be silent before Theo’s excited “sure!” and there was a shuffling on the other line for a moment before Logan’s voice reached you again.

“So no chocolate before bed then?”

Julie gripped your wrist, mouthing “hot voice!” to you and you let out a giggle, trying to focus.

“Nope,” you said. “Trust me, it’s for your own good.”

You could hear Theo in the background; “I think I can have one chocolate.”

“No no,” you said, shaking your head. “He can’t.”

“Sorry bub, whatever your mom says goes.”

“Um, Logan,” you said, your mind going overdrive again. “If he’s up this late, he will turn the puppy dog eyes on for dessert, and he can be very, very insistent but sugar makes him incredibly energetic, and he will end up blowing a hole in the wall because of his powers so you can’t—”

“Relax princess,” Logan said and you could almost hear his faint smile. “It’s fine.”

Julie’s eyes widened and she fell on her back onto the couch dramatically, kicking her legs in the air while slapping the pillow and you stood up, your heart beating in your ears.

“How’s the car?” he asked and you licked your lips.

“Oh I changed my mechanic, so it’s at the new mechanic’s shop for a couple of days. My friend has been driving me to work—” Julie waved a hand from where she was lying down on the couch. “But apparently it’ll be fixed the day after tomorrow so it’s totally fine.”

“Are you being safe?”

“I am,” you said. “Are you?”

“Am I being safe?”

“Yeah,” you said with a smile. “What with lifting cars and stuff, it can be dangerous.”

“Half a chocolate!” Theo said as if it was the brightest idea in the world. “Half—Mr. Logan, can I have the phone back please?”

You ran a hand over your face and cleared your throat.

“Sorry about that,” you said and Logan chuckled.

“Not a problem,” he said. “Good night.”

“Good night Logan,” you said, your head spinning with excitement and you heard the shuffling, then Theo took a deep breath.

“Mommy, half a chocolate!”

“Not at night,” you said. “We’ve talked about this bean. You can have chocolate tomorrow morning after breakfast, okay?”

“But—”

“Theo,” you said. “After breakfast.”

He heaved a dramatic sigh.

“I know bean,” you said softly. “You’ll be fine, I promise.”

“Mkay,” he said with a huff. “I’m going to sleep then.”

“Okay, I love you!” you said. “Call me tomorrow and be nice to your teachers, okay?”

“I will,” he said. “Love you too!”

He hung up and you let out a breath, then tossed the phone on the couch while Julie sat up.

“Oh he talks you through it!” she said, slamming the pillow on the couch. “I just know he talks you through it!”

“Julie!” you exclaimed, your cheeks burning and she let out a laugh.

“Oh please, with that voice…”

“That’s what I mean!” you said and flung yourself on the couch. “He’s…he’s so amazing and Theo adores him and he’s so good with him too and to repeat, he lifted a car for me!”

“Aw,” Julie said. “He’s gonna be such a good stepdad to Theo.”

Your jaw dropped and you shook your head.

“We’re not even thinking about that,” you said, pointing at her. “We’re keeping our expectations very, very low, okay?”

She hummed, then tilted her head.

“Do you want to check Pinterest for cabins in the woods to see which one could be your and Logan’s in the future?”

You paused for a moment, then shrugged your shoulders.

“Yeah,” you said. “That sounds like keeping our expectations low, sure.”

                                                *

Despite having drunk until midnight and consequently having a hangover in the morning, the next day went without a hitch. You’d only had a couple of rude customers, which in service industry counted as a normal day if not a good one, but because of last night you were more than ready to get home, eat a bunch of snacks and go to sleep.

Towards the end of your shift, rain started pouring and you couldn’t help the whine escaping from your lips, leaning back to the counter. You could hear your friend Stacey’s small laugh as she looked out the window, then back to you.

“It’s just summer rain love,” she said. “It’ll stop.”

“Yeah but I’ll have to walk to the subway under that rain and I don’t have a coat with me,” you pointed out. “Ugh. Great. I’ll look like a horror movie protagonist by the time I get there.”

“This is why I am a huge advocate of waterproof makeup.”

You hummed, chewing on the pen in your hand as you grabbed your phone to check the weather forecast, faintly hearing the door opening behind you.

“It says it’ll rain until—what?” you asked Stacey when you lifted your head to see her raise her brows at something by the tables area and you turned your head to look over your shoulder, your heart jumping to your throat the moment you did so.

“Logan?”

Jesus, he looked way too handsome. He gave you a small smile, running a hand through his dark hair as if he was trying to get rid of the raindrops clinging to it, then approached the counter.

“Hey.”

“H—hi!” you said, your voice going way too high-pitched all of a sudden. “Uh, welcome! It’s so nice to see you, what—what can I get you?”

“I can take his order love,” Stacey said helpfully. “Your shift is over, get home before rain gets worse.”

“No no, I can stay.”

“I’m not here to eat actually,” Logan said, making you pull back a little.

“…Is Theo okay?” you asked, your stomach dropping as the thought hit you and he nodded his head.

“Oh he’s fine don’t worry,” he quickly assured you. “He was trying to name all the fish in the lake with his friends while I was leaving. I came to take you home actually.”

You blinked a couple of times.

“You drove all the way here from the institute just to take me home?” you asked just to make sure you had heard him right and he nodded again as if it was completely normal.

“You said your car is at the mechanic’s.”

One of these days, you were going to melt into a puddle in front of him.

“You really didn’t have to,” you said. “I’d hate to be a bother, and I’m sure you have other things to do, so I can just—”

“What did we say about you being too polite?” he asked, his voice almost chiding in a teasing manner, making warmth spread from your chest to your fingertips and a smile you couldn’t stop lit up your face, making you shift your weight, way too excited to just stand there.

“Um,” you said. “Just—just wait here okay? Don’t go anywhere.”

The corner of his mouth twitched in amusement. “I won’t.”

You took a step back, and rushed to the kitchen, making the line cook turn his head.

“Hey, leaving already?”

“Yeah. Paul, where’s the pie?”

“Over there,” he said, motioning at the counter. “What’s the rush?”

You grabbed the pie to put it into the container while Stacey entered the kitchen.

“Why didn’t you tell me you had a boyfriend, and more importantly, why didn’t you tell me he was this hot?!”

“What boyfriend?” Paul asked and Stacey motioned at the window.

“Look, right there.”

“He is not my boyfriend,” you said, your cheeks burning and Paul stole a look out the window, then let out a whistle.

“I was going to try to win you over but holy shit, that’s one hot dude.”

“And get this, he came here to drive her home.”

“He’s just being nice.”

“Car sex in the rain, got it.”

“He is my friend!”

“Oh really? So you’d be okay if I went out there and gave him my number?”

You blinked a couple of times and scoffed a laugh.

“Yeah but he…” you trailed off, desperately trying to come up with an excuse. “He has a girlfri—he’s married,” you changed your mind mid-sentence, nodding solemnly. “Yeah. He’s not wearing a ring because he is having it cleaned, and also he has—he has this condition that he can’t have sex with anyone. A disease.”

Out of the corner of your eye through the small kitchen window, you could see Logan tilting his head like a confused puppy.

“When he does, his partner’s… lower region just falls off, and it’s very gruesome, and if you haven’t heard of that condition, it’s because he’s like the only person in the world who has it, they named the disease after him,” you added. “Doctors call him a medical wonder.”

Stacey turned to Paul.

“She’s so gonna fuck him in the car.”

“She’s not gonna do that!” you exclaimed and cleared your throat, pushing the box into a plastic bag. “I’m—I’m leaving, I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

“Theo doesn’t need a sibling yet, use protection!” Stacey teased you and you shook your head, then pushed the kitchen door and stepped out.

“Hey,” you said breathlessly, your whole face on fire and you held up the plastic bag. “The pie as promised.”

He gave you a calm smile, his eyes darting over you.

“You didn’t bring a coat?”

“Um no, but it’s fine—” you started but before you had the chance to say anything else, he had already taken his leather jacket off to put it over your shoulders.

“What about you?”

“Don’t worry about me,” Logan said as he opened the door for you and you stepped outside, Logan gently steering you to a truck with his hand on the small of your back, making you bite back a smile. As soon as you reached the truck and got in, you let out a breath and put the plastic bag on the back seat, then put your seatbelt on. Logan got in as well, then started the engine and began driving.

“Thank you,” you murmured. “Really.”

“No problem.”

“I could just put it in the GPS or…” you trailed off when you noticed that there was no screen or phone or phone holder in sight so you nodded to yourself. “I don’t—you know, I’m against being a prisoner to technology myself so I can totally relate, and yeah I’ll just put my phone here.”

You quickly found your home address and touched the screen, then carefully placed it on the dashboard and stole a look at him.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” he said. “As long as it’s not about my condition.”

“Your condition?”

“Yeah, that disease you were talking about just now?”

Your eyes widened, your jaw dropping as embarrassment hit you, your cheeks growing hot and a whine escaped from your lips.

“You heard that?”

“Mm hm.”

You slipped a little in your seat, burying your face into your hands, the sight making him chuckle as you took a deep breath and lifted your head to look at him again.

“I can explain,” you said. “It’s just that…Stacey is—you know, she’s incredibly nice but I don’t think she’s over her last boyfriend and I was trying to spare her feelings. Wait, did you want to get her number? Because if you did—”

“No.”

A small spark of hope shot through your system.

“Oh,” you managed to say. “Okay. Um, sorry I made up a nonexistent STD about you.”

“No problem,” he said with a smirk. “But for future reference, you might want to go with the wife lie. I can’t get diseases.”

You nodded slowly. “Because of clean eating?”

“Because of the X-gene.”

You blinked a couple of times, staring at him.

“Wait, what?” you asked. “But Theo got sick multiple times after his powers showed.”

“Not for every mutant,” he said. “My body heals itself.”

“Against everything?”

“Mm hm.”

“What if we had a car crash right now?”

“I’ve been in car crashes, healed in a second.”

“What if someone attacked you with a knife?”

“Happened before, healed instantly.”

“What if someone shot you?”

“Multiple people did in multiple wars. I healed.”

You tilted your head. “I’m sorry, wars?”

“Like I said,” he said after a beat. “My body heals itself. Against injuries, and time.”

You frowned slightly, trying to make sense of what you’d just heard and as soon as the thought hit you, you gasped.

“Oh my God, Logan,” you said. “Did you know Marie Antoinette?”

“What?” he asked with a grimace, turning to look at you better. “What is it with you and Theo and France? He asked me if I knew Napoleon the other day.”

You raised your brows. “Did you?”

“No!” he said. “No, I was born in 1832.”

Holy shit, Julie was right.

You did have a thing for older men but having a crush on an almost 200-year-old man was just a little bit excessive, even for you.

A silence fell upon the car and he glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. “You okay there?”

“Yeah, just in disbelief,” you muttered. “Do you miss it? Back then?”

He shook his head.

“Not really,” he said. “It was terrible. Now is better, it’s just a little too...”

“Chaotic?” you asked and he scoffed, then nodded.

“Yeah,” he said. “A little too chaotic.”

“I mean I wasn’t born in the 19th century but I know what you mean,” you said. “Seriously, if I could just live in a cabin in the woods with Theo and a cat, two dogs and a horse, I’d do it. I even have all their names.”

“What are the names?”

“I’m glad you asked,” you said. “The cat will be Catapult—”

“Are you seriously going to name your cat after a pun?”

“Damn right I am,” you said, counting with your fingers. “The dogs are Underdog and Overdog.”

“Jesus.”

“And the horse’s name used to be Princess Pink Sparkle Her Highness when I was six, but now I think I’m just going to name her Hi-Horse so that someone can tell me to get off my high horse one day.”

Logan looked like he was in actual pain for some reason.

“But listen, the list used to go like, a cat, a dog and a horse, and I figured like, if I get one dog, why not have two, you know?” you asked. “I couldn’t possibly leave Underdog without a friend, because as much as I love cats, they can be kind of assholes sometimes to dogs, they can’t help it, so that’s how Overdog came into being, and there were also ducks named Comma, Colon, Semicolon, and Exclamation, and their babies were going to be named Parenthesis, Dash and Hyphen but then I realized that would mean I'd need to have the cabin next to a lake, and ever since I watched that one creepy horror movie I’m terrified of lakes at night because I really don’t think we should mess with any bodies of water and—” you managed to stop yourself and cleared your throat. “Just…feel free to stop me when I do this.”

“I like it when you do it,” Logan stated without taking his eyes off the road, as if he was talking about the weather and your heart started pacing in your chest while you gawked at him.

“…People usually hate it.”

“People are idiots.”

“Someone I used to know would cover my mouth whenever I rambled too much.”

“And you didn’t break their hand?” he asked and you scoffed a laugh, then shook your head.

“Nope,” you muttered. “That sounds like a good idea though.”

“It is,” he said, reaching out to grab the cigar resting by the gear stick, and opened his window a little.

“Do you mind?”

“Not at all,” you said. “You smoke cigars?”

“Mm hm,” he said, patting his jeans for a lighter, then looked around the car before his hazel eyes fell on you. “I think my lighter is in the jacket pocket, would you…?”

“Oh sure!” you said and felt around the leather jacket over your shoulders, then pulled out the lighter and flicked it, the warmth caressing your hand for a moment before you held it out for him. Logan stole a look at you, his gaze stopping on your face illuminated by the flame before he leaned in to hold the tip of the cigar to the flame.

You had no idea why, but it felt strangely intimate.

“Thanks,” he murmured and you offered him a hesitant smile, flicking the cap of the lighter back before carefully placing it beside the gear stick.

“Sure,” you said, trying to snap yourself out of it. “Um, I used to smoke cigarettes. Mostly to look cool.”

“Did it work?”

“Not really,” you admitted as he stole a look at the GPS, then back at the road. “Never a cigar though, do you mind if I try it?”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

Corners of his mouth curled upwards. “Are you trying to look cool right now?”

“Hey, if you don’t think I’m cool after learning my future pets’ names, I don’t think a cigar is gonna help it.”

That coaxed a chuckle out of him and he held out his hand so that you could take the cigar from him. The moment your fingertips brushed against his skin, his hand twitched, a warmth spreading from your hand to your whole body. You swallowed thickly, your heartbeat getting faster and you brought the cigar to your lips with a trembling hand, then took a drag.

“Don’t inhale—” Logan started but you had already inhaled the smoke, a sharp pain stabbing you in the chest as soon as you did. Logan pulled over and through the coughs, you realized you were right in front of your apartment but you couldn’t even thank him as you pounded your chest with your fist, then took a deep breath and wiped at your eyes with one hand while handing him the cigar back with the other.

“Ugh, that’s terrible!” you whined. “You smoke that willingly?”

“You’re not supposed to inhale it.”

You made a face and wiped at your eyes again, sniffling.

“Not supposed to inhale it?” you repeated as you straightened your back to look at him better, your brows pulled together in almost a petulant manner. “What’s the point of it then?”

The calm smile that graced his lips was almost taunting and he reached out to wipe at the remnant of a tear under your eye with a knuckle, your breath catching in your throat.

“The taste, princess,” he said, his deep voice sending an excited shiver down your spine as he pulled his hand back. “The taste is the point.”

…Oh.

Oh you were so going to melt in front of him one of these days.

That wasn’t supposed to sound as suggestive as it did, you were sure of it but that did nothing to stop the fire spreading over your cheeks, making you shift a little in your spot before he nodded to the window.

“Is this your place?”

You had to force yourself to drag your eyes away from him and looked outside even if you knew where you were, then nodded fervently.

“Yeah!” you said. “Yeah that’s—that’s me.”

A silence fell upon the car and you cleared your throat, trying to snap out of the daze you were in.

“Thank you,” you said after a beat. “For…for all of this, really.”

“Don’t mention it,” he said and you looked outside again, now realizing the rain had stopped so you grabbed your phone off the dashboard, unbuckled your seatbelt and slipped the jacket off your shoulders, his unwavering gaze almost too hot on your skin.

“Good night Logan,” you said softly and opened your door to step out of the car, then made your way to the building. You climbed up the stairs, a giggle you couldn’t stop escaping from your lips as you unlocked your door, then stepped into your apartment and closed the door behind you before leaning back against it.

“Alright…” you breathed out, your heart beating in your ears. “Yeah, okay. I definitely have a crush.”

[gladiatorcunt]

- # LEMON SUGAR !

flew like a moth to you (sunlight)

cw: weird pet play, reader has a vagina, large age gap (reader early 20’s & logan is…. not), HEAVY PISS KINK, dirty yucky icky gross vibes, xmen 2 coded logan, dad (father figure) bf talk and behaviors (old man, kiddo, dad, essentially lifestyle dom-ing you) anal plug mention, praise kink but one usage of ‘bitch’ and ‘toilet’, reference to a canon scene with jean but in this au she was just clowning on him as a friend, scogan crumbs, mentally ill & unhinged!reader, self objectification/dehumanization (?), reader: “i wish a/b/o was real :(”, pt.2 to . bc the dynamic might be confusing, implied unaware mutant!reader

do not copy, translate, or feed this work to ai

1k event. / please consider commissioning me

Logan doesn’t slap his tip against your cheek more than a quick initial love tap (if a tight awkward handshake from a man decades older than you was a sexual act) but he loves to force your head against his crotch and really massage it into your skin. His other hand holds his dick like he’s aiming to piss, a slight scowl twisting his lips because he’s trying to concentrate. His cigar hangs out of his mouth and his bulky hips swivel as he grinds his precum into your face, cheeks, around your eyes, lips, check check check.

He doesn’t even necessarily want you to suck him off that bad and he’s not even trying to cum. orgasming is a slower pursuit for him these days anyway. He just wants to dirty his puppy up a little, enrichment and whatever the fuck. Maybe you can make a game of trying to catch the salty droplets on your tongue, see if you can spot them when they’re about to gush out and trickle down.

An activity can both be a perverted parlor trick and a form of indulgent self care that trivial things like ice rollers or under eye patches couldn’t replace.

“There we go, atta puppy.” Logan chuckles and ruffles your hair when you manage to lick away a bead of precum before it can drip down out of your reach.

“Daddy, don’t tease. ‘m trying to focus, that’s rude.” You give him a good shake, smiling wildly.

You’re already drunk and loopy just huffing the pure musk emanating from his uncut cock. You hum as the salty tang of his juices taint your tastebuds, luxuriating in the aftertaste like you were chowing down on a dainty macarron. He doesn’t really believe in eating or drinking anything special to make his crotch and the things it produces taste better. You couldn’t be more happy about that, the whiskey sour twang riding on the flavor notes were much more preferable than some biblical concoction of milk and honey. If only it was more acidic, that way it could burn a hole through your tongue and your cervix. Marking you so thoroughly from the deepest parts of your soul, you’d always be empty and every pang of pain would call for the man that caused it to soothe your burns with his saliva.

Intimacy with Logan feels like you’re reconnecting in whatever version of the garden of Eden can exist on Earth. Why can’t it be here? With you on your knees so close to barking into the skin of your old man’s cock, a fancy cushion settled under you with little golden tassels hanging off the corners. You are always so willing to be the best you can be for him, but he’ll never allow your service to come at the price of individual pain. Your eyes flutter and you take one of your many breaks to plunge your nostrils into his thick bush.

Wooden and spicy, your favorite perfume that is undeniably raunchy yet sensuous and romantic. Natural. You never thought you could be so in love with how a man’s pubes smell, but you can’t say that you thought that any part of this would have become your life’s purpose in more ways than not. Logan chuckles and pats your cheek, enamored with how clearly you seem to be enjoying suffocating yourself in his groin. He sharply inhales through his nose when you move up to trail your tongue along his happy trail, lapping at the thinner hairs because you adore each one just as much as every part of him.

“Bet you wish you could live off my dick, don’t ya, bunny?”

Of course you nod and moan as you let yourself be pulled back to where you’re supposed to be, the mothership calls you home and you answer happily with your phantom tail wagging all the way.

You pant, digging your nose bridge into the crease where his hip bleeds into his inner thigh, “Mmfh- hah… tastes good, Daddy. I could die here…”

You wanted to cut your voice break of ‘Daddy’ short, but you haven’t arrived at that particular station in your subconscious to shed your skin entirely. You’re having trouble forming a coherent line of thought and finishing your sentences now, but you feel sheepish about how easily he can box you into going nonverbal, so you clamor to stay afloat.

You forget that Logan knows your game by now, every step and caveat and every miniscule and complicated rule. It’s cute how you’re still ashamed of letting your dear old dad see you in all of your bunny-puppy-deer-kitty pet glory, when he clocked that shit the minute your shaky eyes fixated on his truck’s glove box rather than make a second of eye contact with him. You’re fucked up, there’s something fractured deeper in you that you keep under a diary shaped lock and key, but all these jagged edges have bows teetering on their precipices.

You’ve let him put them there, with a fond eyeroll and heaps of head pats. Thank your lucky stars that there’s something fucked up with his psyche too, buried under all his other baggage, because that first ride home with you didn’t end in tears and your nipples caught in his canines. You got to be a bunny settling down in their deserved cozy den instead of a rabbit relying on their prey instincts to throw the predator chasing them off their twitching fuzzy cotton tail.

You don’t get to hide and shrink in yourself. Not when the curled up needy angel hidden under the layers of you makes his jaw ache so ferociously that it’s borderline bestial.

Baby, you’ve gotta know that if he could, he’d pick you up with his teeth by your scruff so your feet would never have to touch the ground and grow ripe with callouses.

He takes a puff from his cigar and shakes the excess ash over your shoulder, out of your view because he also knows that you’d try to swallow the unhealthy specks down too. It’s a constant thing on his mind, the never ending job of pulling your leash enough to wean you off of engulfing whatever weird shit into your mouth you can see out of the corner of your eye. And if it comes from him or was in contact with him? Hell, the stuff might as well be damn catnip to you.

He thinks he feels the same way about you, that’s what he gets for being stupid enough to have an inch of his heart unguarded. You found a way and wormed your way through his arteries, and now he’d rather go sober cold turkey than let you squirm away. Which is what you try to do by pulling back and settling soft hands on his hairy and beefy thighs.

He’s got you hook, line, and sinker when he clasps a burly hand around the base of his thick cock in the poor imitation of a knot. He even squeezes in short pulses, bringing to mind what it would look like swelling up and pumping you full of potent cum. Breeding you with all the love of a man who wants more of you in the world because that might make him believe in it again. He wags his length in his hand to you, wordlessly offering you your favorite snack because you’ve been so very good for your old man.

“Come on, hun, want your treat? I know my puppy wants this big dick in their cute fuckin’ mouth.” He grumbles, stubbing his cigar out on his arms without even flinching or gritting his teeth and tossing it on the floor.

The burn’s already healed by the time you’ve gotten yourself and obediently let your tongue hang out of your mouth. He grunts, pleased, and dabs his sticky tip on the center of your tongue. It gives you the taste you crave while simultaneously depriving you of having your mouth filled like you desperately need to be able to get through the day.

You whine, Logan’s lips split on a wry smile but he doesn’t laugh this time. Nah, he’s too busy feeding his throbbing cock into your mouth, cutting off your whining and reducing a thunderous sound to a muffled crack of lightning.

“Theeeeeeeeere we go, kiddo, relax.” He says a few inches in, because your gag reflex is already tickling the back of your throat.

You breathe through your nose and distract yourself by playing with the hairs on his legs, drawing little hearts and stars as you take more of his length. Tears well up in your pitiful eyes but you brave through it. They eventually bubble over as your lips are forced to stretch, but Logan’s rough thumb dutifully wipes them away just like how you’d attentively cleaned his tip.

His head falls back with a slight crack and his sweaty pecs heave, “Drank a whole lot for you today, ‘m all nice and backed up just waitin’ for a pretty lil’ thing to relieve myself with.”

Suddenly you’re a bunny hopping off on a mission, no god could pull you off of Logan’s musky cock as you swallow around him. You don’t really feel like bobbing your head and humming today, you’re tuckered out from how late he kept you up late last night. He’s not going to just fuck your mouth without being asked, as much as he cares about you, you’re impossibly cute when you’re forced to do the tiniest bit of work.

If your mouth wasn’t so stuffed full of dick you’d pout, and the raised eyebrow Logan gives you means he knows that. You’re a good pet though, so you work yourself off of his length, take a deep breath, and immediately slide back down to the hilt. His full balls press against your chin and you rub the heavy sacks with both hands.

“Oh, fuck.” Logan groans, his fingernails dig into your scalp like he’s the one that needs to stay grounded. “Your gonna make your old man jizz his pants too quick if you keep fuckin’ playin’ with my balls like that.”

You don’t mind that at all, but there's still something else you’re after. You didn’t think much of how many bottles of water and glasses of alcohol he had thrown back today, maybe it was some sort of mutant thing that you just didn’t understand. Super dehydration or whatever, but the fact that he had been preparing a little surprise for his piss thirsty puppy made you want to give him your bloody heart right out of your chest.

His moans and growled promises of rewards and declarations of the rawest form of love a person could feel fade into the background. You hollow your cheeks and go for gold, wet ‘schlop!’-ing sounds bounce off the walls as you fuck your throat with his girthy cock. Not the longest in the world, another one of your blessings (you’ve heard mutterings about mission showers and some guy that shoots lasers out of his eyes taking that prize), but the way it fills up the space in your mouth to the point it could burst gives your clit tachycardia.

“Yeah, fuck, are you ready to drink up, bitch? ‘m gonna use you like a toilet, gonna cum too- god fuckin’ damn-”

You give his balls a solid squeeze as the golden shower pours down your throat and past the seam of your lips to the floor. You don’t stop your ministrations, you actually speed up your pace and bring your wrists into it. Your hands bumping against his imitation knot-hand as you move them in circles, jacking him off while your plush lips glide up and down his cock.

You’re rubbing your pussy against the cushion, it has corduroy buttons that send a tingle down your spine when they catch your clit. The emerald green fabric drags and moves as you hump it while you put your all into making your dad-boyfriend-everything cum. You’re outright bouncing his heavy balls in your hands now, they’re so full you know that one load isn’t going to be nearly enough. So you tell yourself to lock in and hum, sending vibrations down his dick.

Determined puppies get extra treats, and you’ve never gone without them. So you push yourself to make eye contact, flicking your eyes up to stare at Logan as you ruin your own throat via his dick like it was nothing more than your toy. You think it’s the sheer and essentially licentious mannerisms and the glaringly obvious truth that there are men who are not immune to watching a pretty pet posturize themselves on an altar of their own making just to paw at their owner’s legs.

“My baby bunny, too damn sweet to me, yessssss-” His mouth wrenches up almost in pain as he clings to the back of your head and pounds your throat on his own for the next minute.

“Drink it all up, let me feel you swallow it down f’r me.”

You purposefully yank yourself off of his mid stream and duck down to bob his balls on your tongue, lathering them in that pungent scent. You rotate your wrist around his tip, coaxing him to empty everything he has in him and give it all to you. Your hand becomes just as scent marked as his balls and the divots in your collarbone where drops of his piss and cum are forming tiny pools.

He groans at the sight, “Doing so fuckin’ well, collectin’ Daddy’s juices and hoardin’ ‘em all for yourself.”

Your mouth envelops his twitch dick once more, most of what Logan keeps cooped up for you belongs in your growling tummy.

“You better not hiss at me when I have to wash your mouth out later, baby.”

Thus, your perfect record remains intact, you beam around his still hard dick as you float in a starless sea of white and yellow. A coat rack for cock fulfilling its duties.

His piss isn’t too orange-y, you’re glad you don’t have to nag him about cutting back on the booze this time.

Sadly there’s no blood sticking to your scalp from his nails, but you embrace the sting their indents leave behind. They’re almost as breathtaking as the plug buried in your ass, Dad always likes to keep your holes stretched out and ready.

—————————————————————————

“Girls flirt with the dangerous guy, Logan. They don’t bring him home. They marry the good guy.”

With you, he was that good guy. Whatever it meant to be one after all these years and invisible scars. It’s indescribable, how much meaning you can find in having to gain the strength to take care of someone else completely. Be their Atlas and shoulder the world so they can waltz around you, their wings spread wide. He’s glad, deep down, that your wings don’t extend past the small house he’s stuffed you in.

Logan Howlett deserves a nice thing or two every once in a while, and he already got a bottle of scotch from Scott. Fucker thinks he’s so clever. You’d do just fine being the second nice thing. A shame that the nicest thing you probably have is that slick stained cushion, he’s not anybody to write home about. But you seem to have stitched your sides together when he wasn’t looking, sewn your identity into his until you had emotionally fused into one being.

It happened way too fast and when he thought he wasn’t meant for loving a little pup like you, but he’s tired of being some old grump about it. You’d probably snap and try to beat him to a pulp with the bats he keeps in the closet (for you to use in emergencies since you don’t leave), and he’d have to hunt you down through the

Anything else other than you meant about as much to him as a pile of cigarette butts.

And some time later when the dam bursts for the first time and you’re trying not to fall off that cliff, sisyphus-esque struggling through recurring hoarse sobs because Logan is uncomfortably stroking your back gently as if you were a person and not a corpse, you’ll start to feel the molten hot gold seeping in and filling the cracks.

Maybe one day you can tell him about the v-shaped scars on your back, the ones that look like they were created when something was ripped away from you. They’re slanted craters, almost, hard material resembling bone jutting out from your back. Hooks lacking their ornaments.

Hell snatch up your old fashioned grocery list (written with an almost completely dried out ink pen from the bank on a flimsy college ruled sheet of paper) and make a quick run while you heal more than just your body, submerged in another acid trip of a dream.

You wanted to make a lemon cake before the summer ended, it’s always been your favorite.

[captainfern]

ORAL FIXATION WITH GHOST

Always chewing on your thumbs / nails and ghost getting onto you (cutely) and everyone is disgusted by it but you just alwaysss have something in your mouth and one night ghost gets like “fed up” with you hurting yourself by chewing on your nails so he is like “you wanna suck on something?” And you give him the sloppiest neediest head I’m talking tears and mascara streaks and the lewdest noises like just UGHHH

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Damage, Inc.

Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!reader

[“Damage, Inc” by Metallica]

[18+]

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• summary - you have a thing for putting stuff in your mouth. ghost has something to put in your mouth too lol. • rating - 18+ • wordcount - 2.1k • warnings - fem!reader, oral [m!receiving], praise, degradation?? not rlly tho tbh, strong language

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You couldn’t help it.

It started off simple. Chewing your nails out of nerves and anxiety eventually gave way to chewing your nails out of habit. You didn’t mean too, it just happened. It’s not that you did it on purpose, anyway.

But everyone else on base still made fun of you for it.

Then, things got slightly more complicated. Putting your fingers in your mouth when you were nervous, or concentrating— just pressing the tip of your thumb to your bottom lip, or rubbing the pad of your index finger against the top of your lower row of teeth. It wasn’t meant to be gross, or strange, or anything like that. You couldn’t help it!

Things kept ramping up. Soon, you found yourself absent-mindedly biting at lollipop-sticks for hours on end, the plastic rolling along your teeth and tongue and giving you something to focus on. Then, it was sucking and chewing on the lid of your drink bottle for literally fucking days during missions.

It was becoming embarrassing, especially when the boys commented on it, joked about you acting like some teething fucking animal. It made you immediately spit out whatever it was in your mouth, and draw back within yourself, face burning. You didn’t mean too.

Gaz and Soap, bless their hearts, joked about it like teenagers. They didn’t mean it maliciously. They were idiots. You didn’t dwell on it too much.

Price tried to help. He noticed the chewing of the nails, first. Noticed the red, raw ring around your fingertips.

“Just dip your fingers in hand sanitiser. You’ll hate the taste.” He suggested.

You gave him a look. That’s not going to work, Price, oh my god.

He laughed. He seemed to understand you the most, though. On base, he carried toothpicks in his pocket, and would roll one across the table to you during rather tedious or nerve-wracking briefings. You’d twist them around in your mouth until you could taste the wood.

On a couple of occasions during missions, he’d hand you an unlit cigar if he had one to spare. You didn’t like the actual smoke inhalation that came with smoking, but the look of it always intrigued you. So, Price would hand you a cigar and you’d happily roll your lips around it, not binding the bitter taste of tobacco. Sometimes, Price would place his hat on your head while the cigar hung from your lips.

Soap liked to do this thing— he’d enter the room after Price gave you a cigar and his hat. He’d act shocked, looking between the two of you with his hands either side of his head in an expression of shock.

“Two Price’s?!?!?!?!”

It was funny, you had to admit.

But, the one person you couldn’t quite crack about the matter was your lieutenant.

He noticed your fixation. Of course he did. Ghost noticed everything.

But he didn’t act weirded out, making jokes like Gaz and Soap. He didn’t even try to offer help like Price.

He’d just make small remarks to you. Sometimes they were somewhat helpful. Sometimes you felt your body grow hot with embarrassment.

Chewing on your nails?— he’d tap you on the head as he walked past you.

Fingers near or in your mouth?— he’d yank your arm away with a shake of his head.

Sucking on the nozzle of your drink bottle for a bit too long?— he’d grip the back of your head and pull your mouth off of it.

Each action made you feel humiliated, to say the least. But, each action also had him speaking to you in ways that made your stomach flip.

Tap on the head = “Quit it, sergeant.”

Arm yanked away = “None of that, thank you.”

Head pulled away = “Don’t make me ask you again.”

Did some of his whispered words make your core throb? Maybe. Was that a problem? Also maybe, but who cares?

This entire thing came to a head one night in base. Price, Soap and Gaz were off doing god knows what, leaving you alone in the rec-room. You found yourself running a finger against your teeth as you stared into space, your most previous mission replaying in your mind.

You didn’t even hear Ghost come in. You also didn’t see him until he was looming over you, a hand clamping around your wrist.

You squeaked in surprise.

“You just don’t listen, do you?” He tutted softly. “You’re hurting yourself. I’ve told you to quit it.”

You looked up at him. “I don’t mean too, sir, I mean it. It just—”

“I don’t care,” Ghost said simply. “Stop it. I’m fed up of seeing you putting shit in your mouth. You’re not a dog.”

You rolled your eyes. “You don’t understand—”

“I don’t understand?” He blinked down at you. “I don’t understand? I understand perfectly. You just want things in your mouth, right? That’s what you want, eh?”

You frowned. “You’re making it weird.”

He had a hand on his belt now. When did he do that? It made your stomach flip.

“You want to suck on something so bad? You want something in your mouth?” He was unbuckling his belt before you could reply. “Come on then, naughty girl, open your fucking mouth.”

You gaped at him as he let his belt hang either side of his hips and place one of his gloved hands to his growing bulge.

“Lieutenant—?”

“Well?” He prompted, imprint of his cock right in front of your face. “Come on, sergeant. You want to put things in your mouth, right? So go on. Suck my fucking cock. Open wide and let me stuff this mouth with my cock.”

Oh.

I mean, you weren’t complaining.

But oh.

He peered down at you between long, blond eyelashes. You swallowed thickly, his stare making your entire body grow hot. His eyes seemed to grow darker and despite the skull balaclava, you could imagine his expectant expression.

“On your knees.” He whispered, bringing a hand to cup the back of your head.

You did as you were told— clambering off of the couch and sinking to the floor. His hand was still heavy on the back of your head as you propped ourself on your knees. He pushed your head forward, and you caught yourself by placing your hands on his thick thighs.

“Come on, pretty girl. I don’t have all night. Take my cock out.” He mumbled, pressing your face closer to the obvious bulge in his jeans.

He lightened his grip so you could lean back. With shaky hands, you unbuttoned and then unzipped his jeans. You opened them and proceeded to push down his boxers, letting his hard cock spring free.

“Good fucking girl. Now take it in your hand,” Ghost hissed. “Wrap your hand around it— ah, fuck, there you go.”

You grasped the base of his cock firmly, making him curse under his breath. You squeezed it gently, stroking lightly, and he hissed out, the hand on the back of your head tightening in your hair.

“S’enough of that,” he tugged at your hair. “Open.”

You looked up at him, eyelashes fluttering. He looked down, cocking a head slightly to the side. Tentatively, you leaned forward and, still maintaining eye contact, pressed your lips delicately to the reddened tip of his cock. The pressure was featherlight, barely a peck, and when you pulled back, you had a small smear of precum on your lower lip.

He grunted, the hand at your head tightening so much that it made you choke on a whine.

“Quit the fucking teasing,” Ghost grunted again. “Naughty girl you are, eh, sergeant?”

You kissed the tip of his cock again. This time, you darted your tongue out like a fucking lizard and swiped it along the sensitive slit across the head. A deep, gravelly sound emitted from Ghost’s throat.

Whoops.

His other hand came down to your face, and he forced a thumb into your mouth. It was cottony against your tongue, his glove tasting like the smell of him. He kept his thumb pressed to your tongue, his other hand gripping the back of your head. His cock was still directly in front of your face. A dribble of pre leaked down the fat shaft of it.

“What’d I just fucking say?” He growled, thumb pressing down harder. “Quit fucking teasing. You don’t want to listen to your lieutenant, eh?”

His thumb on your tongue was making you salivate so much that strings of it dripped from the corners of your mouth. You whined, embarrassed, as your body flared hot with humiliation.

Ghost chuckled, low and dark. “Messy girl.”

He finally shifted his thumb, hooking it onto the bottom row of your teeth, the rest of his fingers holding your chin. With this, he forced your jaw wider, pushing your head closer with his other hand.

“You want to put things in your mouth? Want to be a dirty girl?” Ghost let go of your head briefly so he could grasp his cock. He brought it forward and ran the sensitive tip across your lower face, smearing your saliva. He shuddered an exhale at the sensation. “Come on then. Let me put my cock in your mouth. Let’s see how dirty you can be.”

He kept your jaw open like a vice as he pulled his cock back and then proceeded to push it into your open mouth. You gagged immediately as he rammed the tip into the back of your throat with a groan.

“Yeah, that’s right. Gag on it,” Ghost groaned. “Fucking gag on it. S’too big, eh? Fuck, I know, pretty girl. But you love putting things in your mouth, don’t you? I bet you love this.”

Tears were welling in your eyes when he removed his thumb from your mouth. He kept a hand on the back of your head, guiding you to take more and more of him.

He was grunting and groaning quietly above you, your cunt throbbing at the sounds. Meanwhile, you continued to wrap your lips around his girth and keep up with the way he was fucking your throat.

He was heavy on your tongue. Velvety smooth, with veins you could feel and drips of precum that you could taste. You moaned around his cock, and he bucked his hips deeper into you, making you gag again. Tears slipped from your eyes and down your cheeks.

“That’s it, take it,” he muttered, the fat head of his cock slamming into the back of your throat. “Take it all in this slutty little mouth. Listen to these noises, too. Such a filthy fucking mouth.”

The noises were slick and wet. Your saliva, dribbling down your chin, pooled in your mouth as he fucked it. It was sloppy and messy. The sounds filling your ears made your stomach twist in both mortification and excitement.

Ghost was fucking his cock into your mouth like a madman. His thrusts were desperate while he kept a firm grip on your head. He watched you as you took his cock down your throat, grunting at each suctioned drag, eased by the amount of saliva.

His breaths were now coming in pants. “You’re not gonna put your fingers in your mouth again, okay? You want something to suck on, then you come and suck on my cock. Got it?”

You whimpered around him, desperately trying to hold more gags at bay.

He was still grunting and groaning deep from his chest as pleasure built within him. “M-fuck. M’gonna cum down your throat and you’re gonna take it all, pretty girl.”

You whimpered at him again. Your core was throbbing so much you thought you might die.

The grip Ghost had on your head tightened even more, forcing you to take more of his cock until your nose was flush to the thatch of hair at the base. You whined and gagged and it prompted Ghost to whisper your name and cum down your throat.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he babbled as he emptied his load into your mouth. “Fuck, yeah, take it, pretty girl. Don’t waste it… don’t waste it.”

He rutted his cock a couple more times before he pulled out. He blinked down at you lazily as you stared up at him, cheeks puffed out with a mouth full of his cum. Cheekily, you poked your tongue out a few centimetres, some of his seed oozing out and dripping down your chin.

“Holy fuck—” He caught himself moaning. “Just— fuck, swallow it.”

You did, and he moaned again. He pulled you up towards him, urging you to your feet by still holding your head. Then, he kissed you, shoving his tongue into your mouth to smother the noise of surprise you made.

When he pulled back, he breathed deeply, massaging the back of your neck gently.

“I’m serious, by the way. Stop chewing your nails and sucking on your fingers… please.”

You smiled at him. “I’ll try. As long as I can distract myself by sucking on your cock instead.”

“O’course you can, pretty girl.”

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bruh this sucked i’m sorry 😭

[wolviensabes]

Manhandle.

RQ: 'hello! i saw you mentioned in your wolverine alphabet post that logan loves his partners chubby… i was hoping you could write something nsfw with a fat & fem reader… maybe some body praise and stuff like that. that would be so good 😭😭😭 i love your fics so much💚💚💚' - @olivebebita

Pairing: Logan Howlett x F!reader

Warnings: Smut 18+ || Kinda feral Logan bc he's obsessed w/ you...pure porn no plot, some manhandling, soft dom!Logan, PiV unprotected sex, swearing, light degrading, dirty talk, cunnilingus, aftercare

A/N: I will die on the hill that Logan loves his partners chubby. Idc. I didn't have the patience to edit this ignore mistakes pleaseee. WC: 2.4k

Logan cannot stand you for one reason and one reason alone: You drive him crazy.

Why the fuck are you so soft? Why do your hips sway so much? Why are you so doe eyed and sweet smelling?

His cock twitches in his pants as he sees you talking to another mutant. Fuck. He doesn't like it. He wants you for himself. He needs you for himself.

That's exactly what he does.

He grabs you and tugs you along, you of course go with him, being so sweet and naïve...when you're alone, he practically rips your clothes off. He normally would tease and play with you more, but he can't help himself. He's too eager, his patience is diminished.

Your soft gasp when he tore the fabric from your body made his balls grow heavy and a low growl rumble out of him. You were beautiful to him, your body drove him crazy. He felt hotter than normal, like he was going to die if he didn't have you. You made the most pathetic sound when his hand pushed between your legs and felt your soft folds, his calloused fingertips finding that sweet little pearl. "Fuckin' wet for me...from rippin' y'r clothes off, huh? You like it like this? Bein' manhandled?"

You felt your face heat up and your legs trembled, threatening to give out at any second. You stammered, unable to come up with a solid reply as you pathetically tried while his thick fingers explored your folds confidently. They prodded your entrance, making you tense a bit.

"Y'r tight, my damn finger has a hard time gettin' in here...how are you gonna handle my cock, princess?" he grabbed your face with his free hand, tilting your head up as he kissed you. His lips were warm, the taste of cigar and whiskey on them, a hint of salt and jerky. You melted into his kiss, even though he was claiming you this way. His tongue pushed into your mouth, invading you and exploring every inch as if he owned you. His teeth gently bit your bottom lip, he didn't want to overwhelm you too much, not yet anyway.

"That's it...whimperin' for me...you love this, I can tell by how wet you are. Can't imagine my cock in there...it's so tiny...have you ever been fucked before?" he grunts deeply in your ear, the sound making your entire body react as you shake. Your nipples erect and feeling stimulated by the fabric of his shirt as he stands close enough to rub against you.

"Logan...I...mmn, I have I just...-"

"You've never been with me baby, I'll show ya what a real man can do. I know when y'r fakin' too, you won't have to do that with me." He chuckled, his hand moving away from your dripping core and he grabbed your plush hips, lifting you up. "Goddamn...these things..." He threw you onto his bed, his hand on your belly for a moment, kneading you.

"Logan-!"

"I gotcha...just let me take care of you..." Logan's voice was gentle, but he sounded slightly condescending as he spoke to you, the clear teasing undertone made you whimper in response. His hands pawed at you like a man who had seen a naked woman for the first time, on your breasts, sides, hips. Hs grabbed your thighs, eagerly holding onto your flesh and spreading your legs apart for him. "Such a fat cunt you have, looks comfy, you'll treat my dick well won't you, sweet thing? Perfect little home for it...that's where it belongs isn't it? You're lost without my dick in you."

You squirmed below him, feeling vulnerable and exposed as he held you down. You couldn't deny how hot your pussy felt, you wanted to demand for him to stick it in, to just fuck you into the mattress, but you also didn't want to admit it, playing the game a bit. Besides, Logan was clearly enjoying how you were acting, so you kept it up.

"Ah...please..." You begged lightly, your legs falling limp and allowing him to open them wider. You felt so horny by now, Logan had a way of bringing it out of you. Your core felt like it was on fire, and you needed his touch more than air.

He placed open mouth kisses on your inner thighs, his teeth grazing the thin skin and biting your flesh teasingly. You could feel the slick, warm muscle of his tongue barely touch your sensitive skin as he continued to knowingly tease you. After his painfully slow movements, he finally got to your center, his pupils blown like he was on drugs.

Logan growled deeply, exhaling through slightly parted lips as his hands came around and held your thighs tightly. His head lowered, nose nudged your clit as this man took a deep inhale of your sex. Your face heated immediately, suddenly feeling embarrassed he was smelling you so intensely. His nose buried, your wetness covering it as he investigated further into you until he was satisfied memorizing your scent.

When he pulled up, he barely pulled away for you to say something about his little display and his lips latched onto your clit, knowing exactly where it was after mapping out your cunt mentally. He was torn between making you squirm and beg, or just taking what he wanted. You were intoxicating to him, he hadn't felt his cock throbbing to painfully before, patience was not an option right now.

You made the sweetest sound for him when his encased your clit in his mouth, his lips securing around that pretty pearl and he lightly sucked on it. His firm hands held you still while you naturally squirmed around from the stimulation, keeping you down even when you tried to buck into his mouth more. Logan pulled back enough for his breath to warm your swollen bud, and he grunted, "Stay still. You don't get to move. I'll make you cum, I'll decide when you've had enough."

The tiny whimper that left your trembling lips was enough encouragement, but he wanted to push a little more. So, the smug bastard leaned up and over you, glaring down, his wet lips shining against the dull light of the room peering through his always drawn curtains. Still, when the warm sunlight did peek through, he looked gorgeous.

"Say it. Say you understand."

"I...I understand..." you swallowed the thick lump in your throat, not realizing how tight it felt until you spoke again. He smirked down at you, his eyes raking over your form and he let his hands knead your body a bit more. "So soft...perfect for me. I can really throw you around hm? You can take it..." he groaned as he felt your body, his hands moving up to your breasts and holding them, massaging and pinching your nipples like an eager virgin.

Logan moved down again, his mouth drooled as he took your clit once more, his tongue lapping and teasing the bud before dipping inside your entrance. He tasted you, groaning like an animal at your taste as his tongue went deeper. You hooked your leg around his shoulder and pulled him closer, finding a loophole in keeping your hips still.

Luckily for you, he enjoyed it enough to allow it.

"Stop squirmin' princess...I've almost gotcha ready." He continued to work your pussy until he felt like you were ready enough. He pulled away and licked his lips, "Now...open those pretty lips." he swiped his fingers over your folds and then held them to your pouty face. "You're such a dirty girl...doing everything I say, aren't you?"

He lightly spanked your pussy, then pressed his dick into your folds and rubbed to slicken himself. When did he take his pants off?

You were interrupted when his fat head poked your entrance, forcing you to stretch out around the soft flesh and allow him in. You mewled desperately, the burn of it was so addicting. "Lo...Logan..!"

"Shh, sh, you can take it." he whispered and pushed until his head popped inside. You gasped, just his head made you feel dizzy. And he kept going.

Inch after inch.

You were squirming and crying softly, he was so big, ugh it felt amazing but overwhelming all at once. "L-Lo..Logan, I..aah," you blabbered, his thumbs swiped your temples as he chuckled down at you, his body keeping you warm. He pressed his scruffy cheek into yours so he could whisper to you while his hips rocked against you, his wet head smacking gentle, sloppy kisses to your swollen cervix.

"Shh, good girl, gooood girl," he praised you in a low, soothing tone, his voice contradicting what his body was doing to you. You felt like you were on fire, pleasure was shooting through every inch of you while that delightful burn remained as strong as ever. "Y'r doin' good...so good. Takin' all of me inside ya...knew you could."

Logan's hips moved faster inside you, driving himself in and out at a much better pace for the both of you. He held your legs up and watched himself move in and out of you, admiring the beautiful arousal that coated into his curls. He deliberately made slow, long thrusts so you could feel the mold of his cock perfectly.

Every vein, the plush head, how his cock formed your velvet walls and made you adjust.

It was everything you could've wanted from him.

While you memorized the shape of his dick, he suddenly threw your legs around his waist and he leaned over you, causing your hips to come up and off the bed a little. He began to drive himself inside at an animalistic, rough pace while he held you. His teeth bared as he let out the deepest snarl you ever heard from him. "You make me fuckin' wild, baby...look what y'r doin'...I'm actin' like how I should. A fuckin' animal."

You sobbed lightly from the overwhelming pleasure he was giving you, his cock hitting that delicious spongy spot inside that made you see stars. "Logan!! M'gonna cum...!" you cried, your fists balling the sheets by your head as you let out all your little sounds you tried to hide.

There was no reason to hide them anymore, honestly.

He kept going just as he was, knowing his movements and pace were perfect for you. "That's it...yeah baby, cum on my cock, show me how much you like it, milk my cock." Logan held your hips firm, his fingers dug into your flesh as he focused on his thrusts, driving deeper and deeper.

You finally let out a strangled cry, your vision blurring as your body released around him, clamping down on his dick like a vice and almost messing up his rhythm. "G-goddamn-"

"I'm cumming, fuck! Don't stop, keep going, keep fucking me!" you screamed desperately, reaching you and clawing his shoulder blades, your hips rocking against his thrusts as your mind just focused on riding out your orgasm for as long as possible. He moved with you until he finally let loose, one single thrust in and his cock swelled and exploded against your pretty cervix, spraying his cum inside and filling up your little hole. He dripped out of you as he continued to fill you up, cum squeezing past his cock plugging your pussy, but the sheer amount of it couldn't be contained completely.

Logan's chest rose and fell quickly, his skin in a thin sheen from sweat, as was yours, and you both stilled as you regained your breaths together. You were in a complete daze, your mind foggy from pleasure and good hormones, his dick still buried inside you and felt so right.

"Good girl...fuck, my girl." he grumbled and nudged your head to the side with his own, kissing your jaw. "Did so well...down we go, easy," he lowered your legs while speaking to you gently, pulling himself from your body and watching as his cum flowed out of you. You whined at the absence of him, he just tsked and shushed you.

"Ah, don't give me that...we have to get you cleaned up. Be good for me, and I'll make sure you're nice and cozy after." Logan chuckled at your dazed expression, lifting you up a bit and smirking at how you whined into him.

"Logan....noo, just a little longer..." You pleaded lightly, trying your best to convince him, but he was not going to give in. Instead he picked you up with ease, your weight didn't bother him in the slightest, and he carried you to the bathroom.

"Clean first, then we can lay all you want." He set you down in the bathroom, knowing you were very exhausted by now and most likely coming down from your orgasm high, so he made the clean up quick. His touches were gentle, carefully washing the rag over your body and between your legs, getting all the sticky cum washed away. He stood behind you and kissed the nape of your neck, giving you goosebumps even under the hot water. "Doin' good for me...keep it up, we're almost done princess..."

When you were finally finished, you were so relieved to lay on the clean bed. Your body was much more worn out than you thought, before you collapsed, your legs trembled and almost refused to hold you up. You snuggled into the sheets, smelling heavily of Logan plus a hint of the earthy cologne he rarely wears.

He joined you a few minutes later, his strong arms wrapped around you and held you close. His hand slowly caressed up and down your side, gently squeezing and massaging you. His presence and the tiredness hit you after cleaning, and the drop of hormones made you want to sleep. Your body turned towards him, your face burying in his chest as you let out a shaky breath.

"Easy...I gotcha...sleepy girl. Go on and take a nap, I'll stick with ya until you wake...promise." He kissed the crown of your head and held you firmly against him, knowing you were going to fall asleep any second. You drove him so wild but he also felt a strong need for you in other ways. He wanted you for himself in every shape and form, you were so beautiful, and he would make sure you believed it and saw yourself as he did.

If he couldn't convince you with words, well...he can always fuck you again and make you see.

Thanks for reading ily.

Dividers by @/strangergraphics

[slamminslamminmcgill]

aaaaaaa i need poly deadclaws smoke session 🥺😵‍💫💖 you and wade being cringy stoners ripping wade's gravity bong together and logan walks in on you sitting in his lap on the couch.

"hey, honey badger, welcome home! aw, poor baby, you look so tired! you wanna hit?"

"the fuck are you two doing?"

“it’s called a gravity bong! a hallmark of stoner engineering! would you like a demonstration?”

"no."

“too bad.” wade puts the lighter in your hands, then squeezes them for encouragement. “show him, babes, just like i taught ya.”

you spark the lighter and carefully angle it into the bowl at the top. once it's lit, you grab the inner bottle and slooowly pull it upwards out of the water. the cloud inside it grows thicker, denser, bigger. it swells with the accompanying sounds of water underneath it. glug. glug. glug.

wade explains the mechanics to logan, “now THAT, boo boo bear, is about 2-liters of toke-a-cola right there. almost as fun as when they had cocaine in the recipe.” wade sneaks his hands under your baggy lounge shirt to pinch and pull your nipples, then gives you an open-mouthed kiss on your neck. he purrs his instructions to you. “chug it, honey-cunt.”

you rip the bowl out of the bottle, the smoke billowing out through the spout, and slurp it up as you sink the bottle down into the water. of course, the torrential cloud you had built was at LEAST 2-player content. you started coughing about a third of the way down, and wade had to take over.

“i got it, i got it!” he proclaimed, valiantly chugging what was left of the cloud. he blew some out and sighed with pleasure. “now… this kind of bong gives you… gives you BIG hits. so you get stupid fast.”

you nod in agreement, a hazy, air-headed smile on your face, “it also feels REALLY good for sex…”

"well, shit, why the hell ain't you lead with that?" logan climbs over the back of the couch and sits down next to you two. "give it here. show me how you work that thing.”

also i just KNOW logan gets giggly when he smokes weed it’s a fact god told me. he’s got cigar lungs so he takes to the gravity bong with surprisingly little coughing, but FUCK it makes him STUPID!!!! he gets super touchy feely too and he’ll prolly crawl on top of both of you.

“nngh, c’mon, lemme…” he grumbles, pawing for the bong that wade holds out of reach, “lemme hit it again…”

“i think the fuck not, babe! you will wait your turn in the rotation just like everyone else, young man!”

logan blows a raspberry at him and flops over to wade’s side. “pfft… bitch…”

“yes, sir, and that’s why you love me.”

he watches longingly as wade takes his rip, until his focus shifts to your shorts riding up on your thighs.

“hey. c’mere, boy.”

he tugs you into his lap and starts making out with you, stripping you from your comfy clothes, grinding his bulge up into your folds. you whimper, under your breath, and logan smirks, teasing you in hushed tones.

“ ‘s good, right?”

“mhm…”

“you gettin’ wet now?”

“mhm!”

once wade blows his smoke out, he notices what’s going on and gasps in mock offense.

“are you two seriously excluding me right now? what am i, ugly, or somethi—? wait, don’t answer that, i—“

“yes.”

“yep. knew that was coming. can’t even blame ya. i set you up for that one. anyway!”

wade pulls you to him by your hair and smooches your cheek affectionately before putting the lighter in your hands again.

“your turn, sweetie pie!”

and by the end of that rotation everyone’s clothes are off and you’re all touching each other’s junk 😌

[readychilledwine]

So I saw a post on Tumblr that read:

“Imagine getting fucked from behind in a broom closet of the house of wind by Rhysand, his fingers in your mouth and his breath against your ear whispering “quiet down pet, you don’t want Feyre to catch us huh?”

And I am so desperate for a fic inspired by this. 👀

I love Feysand so, so much, but the thought of this did something to me.

I love your work so I immediately came to you. If you write it, thank you!!! If not, thank you anyway bc I love all of your work!! Ok byeeeee

.......alright you got me....

Extramarital Escapes

Warnings - smut, affair, slightly dub/con, abuse of power on Rhysand's end

A/n - I don't normally enjoy the idea of an affair and cheating, but I turned this into something I can work with.

This was wrong.

So very wrong.

You gasped as Rhys hit that spot inside of you again, growling as you clenched around him.

This was not what you had in mind when he hired you to be their live-in nanny. It had started innocent enough. Rhys would seek out your company when Feyre would head into Velaris. There were short glances, a soft touch to reach around you at times. Those touches slowly became longer, though. They lingered on your waist, the sides of your thighs, your arms. You had thought you were imagining it until Feyre's first trip out of the Court with Nyx.

"Have a drink with me?" He had stopped you from sorting the heir's clothing, tilting your head up to look at him. "They say you aren't supposed to drink alone, Darling."

You had agreed, following him to the cigar room you knew even Feyre never entered. It was his sanctuary. His place to be alone. She had her studio. He had this.

That one drink turned into him getting closer to you on the couch, cornering you between him and it. He tipped the wine back further as you took a sip, trying to get you to relax with this dangerous look in his eyes.

You were pinned below him an hour later, drunk and begging him to fuck you harder, to let you cum. All while he smiled above you, eyes blown out in lust, saying over and over again that you felt exactly like he imagined.

You had told him the next morning it was a one-time thing, that it would never happen again, regardless of if you wanted it to happen. The High Lord simply smirked, undressing you with his eyes all over again. "We will see."

He cornered and took you anytime he wanted after that.

On his desk after Feyre would fall asleep.

On the table when she was out of the house and Nyx was down for a nap.

In your room during the dead of night when he decided his wife wouldn't satisfy his need to feel complete control and power over someone.

You had told him this morning that you were done. If he continued to touch you after this, you would tell Azriel, Cassian, or Feyre, believing one of them would protect you from him.

You loved Nyx and he was why you had put up with being Rhysand's whore for so long, but you needed it to end. You needed the guilt to stop eating you alive at night. You knew you were worth more, are worth more.

Rhysand had again smiled. "You love your job, don't you, y/n?" You nodded, eyes watering. "And in your contract, it is stated your job is to ensure the happiness of my family, correct?" You nodding again. "Then I suppose if you are not willing to fulfill that obligation, I should find a new nanny."

He knew he had you as you took a shaky breath, tears rolling down your face at the idea of never seeing his son again. "I'd hate to take him away from you. He loves you so much, and it is so very clear you love him."

"Rhys, please," you felt him pull you to him, slotting you between his legs as he sat on his desk. "I just can't keep being a mated males whore."

His face softened, hand moving to hold your chin. "You are not my whore. You are my escape. If you do not want that, if you do not want to be loved by me, then we have so few options."

You looked up and away from him. "I just want to take care of Nyx. Like I was hired to do."

"Then you do so on my conditions."

That was how you found yourself, chest pressed against the wall in an unused broom closet. The High Lord pounding you from behind, his fingers down your waiting throat to silence your cries.

You felt your eyes roll back, moaning loudly as you sucked those digits. His other hand was on your clit, circling the bundle of nerves in time with each heavy drag of his cock. "Shush," he growled in your ear. "Gotta be quiet, darling. You wouldn't want Feyre to catch us, would you?" He nipped your pointed ear, causing your walls to twitch around him. "Acting like you don't love my cock inside of you this morning, but now here we are. Sure, it feels like you love it when I'm inside of you. Don't you?"

You could only nod, eyes squeezing shut and moaning more as his hips met the plush skin of your ass over and over, driving into you again and again.

You could feel your orgasm building waiting for him to give the command to let go, and suddenly, he stopped. Pulling out of you and slapping your aching cunt. "This is your punishment for trying to end things with me," he whispered into your ear. "If you're a good girl the rest of the day, maybe I will let you cum tonight when she goes to Rita's with the girls."

He left you there, wet and aching for him in that broomcloset. You sunk down the wall, head falling to your knees.

A few hours later, you had finally gotten Nyx down for the night. You sighed, heading to Rhysand's office to let him know the heir was sleeping, that you would tend to him during the night since Feyre was gone, but two hushed voices had you stopping.

"You have to tell her," a feminine voice stated. "I don't want her to quit over this. Nyx loves her, Rhys."

"I know," Rhysand's voice was barely audible. "She tried today. I had to manipulate her into staying before I fucked her in the broom closet. You were supposed to catch us and join us."

You covered your mouth, hiding the gasp you made before standing silently. Feyre sighed on the other side of the door, "I got busy. Azriel had reports, and he was looking for you. I had to lie to him, Rhys. I don't want to keep lying to our family about her and what she is to us."

"Then let's replan it for next week. Since you are supposed to be out of the house. I wanted to give her the weekend off. I'm scared if I do now, she won't come back."

You walked away, having heard enough information, yet not enough all at the same time.

You could not tell if you were angry, excited, curious. You went to your room, closing and locking the door.

As you bathed, the side of you that hated games began to emerge, and you began a plan of your own. In that moment, you decided one thing, if Rhysand and Feyre wanted to play, you'd play too.

General tag list:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanager

Rhys tag list:

@tothestarsandwhateverend

💜 If you would like to be added to my general taglist, or a character specific one, let me know 💜

[clementine-thedestroyer]

Kinktober day 31: Gangbang - 141 x reader

Warnings/tags: F!reader, f receiving oral, PIV sex, ect. Over stimulating, light bondage.

Um…. Better late than never?

If you’ve been following me for a while, you know that I didn’t finish Kinktober remotely on time, but I guess if you can say one thing about me, it’s that I’ll keep trying.

Anyways, just pretend like it’s not August.

There’s a hand over your stomach, resting over the layer of fat covering the area as you try to take deep breaths. In, and out. All in an attempt to calm yourself.

Your hands are restrained above you, secured to the head board via a pair of handcuffs one of them got from god knows where. The four of them are all standing over you, watching you with varying degrees of patience for what’s coming next.

Over the years, you like to think you’ve memorized every inch of your partners. Where Price’s and Johnny’s hands were both large and calloused, John’s were always warm to the touch with thicker fingers, short, neatly trimmed nails, and a thicker layer of hair on the backs- while Johnny’s were almost always ice-cold with dry skin, bitten-down nail beds, and old, picked at hangnails. Kyle and Simon both had longer and slightly thinner fingers, but Kyle kept his nails neatly trimmed, often just slightly longer than Price kept his, while Simon’s nails were more often than not left unattended. Simon would rather just tear the ends whenever he deemed them too long than bother finding a pair of clippers. Both Kyle and Simon’s hands were rough from work like the other two’s, but Simon’s preference for wearing gloves left his a bit softer than the rest’s, which posed a stark contrast to the remnants of past injuries that decorated his hands like medals- scars and crooked fingers and swollen joints- all with a story to tell and a memory to stir.

At this point, you think you could tell blindfolded whose hands were on you, so even without looking, it’s easy to tell that the hand on your stomach belongs to Price.

His fingers ghost along your skin, ticking just enough for your core to jerk and your breath to hitch at the touch. You make the mistake of meeting his eyes, nearly shrinking back at the undeniable hunger to his gaze.

You jerk your gaze away, shifting on the bed as you try desperately not to squirm. You feel the weight of their eyes on you, their full attention devoted to watching, admiring, lusting over your body laid out for them.

Price’s hand pulls away from you as he takes a step back, tugging a cigar out of his pocket and clicking on his lighter as he speaks in a calm, authoritative tone.

“Alright, boys. Let’s take care of our girl.”

And with that, it’s as if a spell is broken. The other three all take a step away, shuffling around you in wordless understanding as Simon takes his place as the first between your legs.

“It’s alright love, ‘going to get you nice and stretched open so you can take us.” He says, pulling off one of the black leather gloves covering his hand and slipping his hands under your butt to lift your hips, tilting them up for a better angle. Wordlessly, Johnny grabs a pillow from the top of the bed, handing it to Simon to prop your ass up, which he takes with an unintelligible grunt.

After positioning you how he wants you, Simon bites the fingertip of his remaining glove, tugging it off before rubbing slow circles into your clit with the pad of his thumb.

You let out a needy noise, arching your back and trying to grind down onto the pressure on your clit.

You don’t do much more than turn your head into the warmth of his skin when Kyle and Johnny sit down- with Johnny moving behind Simon, watching with a slack jaw and hungry eyes as Simon rubs easy circles into your clit, and Kyle takes a seat beside you, pulling your head into his lap and tucking a wayward strand of your hair behind your ear. Already, you’re nearly too out of it to notice Price taking a seat in the dark, brown leather chair situated in the corner of the room and taking a long draw from his cigar, exhaling and filling the room with the rich smell of his favored brand.

A needy moan escapes you as Simon moves his touch lower, rubbing at your hole with two of his fingers but not pushing in. You try to arch your back to wiggle back down onto his fingers, whining softly when he only pulls his hand away.

“Be patient.” He says sternly, and you want to whine about it, but you’re distracted by Kyle’s thumb running over your mouth, pressing gently at your lips.

When you part your mouth for him, he smiles, running the pad of his thumb over your molars and the inside of your mouth as you struggle not to try and speak around his finger.

“So pretty.” Kyle coos, holding your head gently as he continues to distract you from Simon’s prep work.

“Right’ Bonnie lass she is” Johnny adds, nodding dumbly as his accent thickens to the strongest you’ve ever heard it.

Simon chuckles, “Careful, Johnny, you’re drooling.”

“Wha-?” Johnny’s head snaps up, looking around in confusion before he rolls his eyes. “Very funny.” He grumbles, settling back into his spot.

Kyle laughs, continuing to stroke at your hair and hold your head in his lap.

Without warning, Simon pushes a finger inside of you, curling it up and rubbing circles into the walls of your cunt in a way that mirrors his motions at your clit.

You moan, jerking your hips and squeezing around his finger as tight as you can to wring every bit of sensation you can from the digit.

Again, Simon chuckles, pausing his rubbing of your clit to lean down and lift his mask, pressing a soft, sweet kiss to the swollen bud.

The stubble lining his jaw pokes and prickles at the sensitive skin between your legs and you whimper, trying to squirm away even after he pulls away.

“You like that, princess?” Simon coos, slight condescension evident in his tone as he rubs at your thigh and works to stretch your enough to fit a second finger inside of you.

You whine and shake your head no.

“S’ scratchy-“ you mumble, wiggling your hips even as you’re held firmly in place.

Simon laughs, a deep, amused noise that you’re rarely allowed to hear in full force.

“Alright love, I’m sorry. I’ll make sure I’m clean shaven next time.” He says, before beginning to work a second finger inside of you and ducking his head down to give your clit a firm suck.

You can feel his triumphant grin against your skin when you moan and try to fuck yourself on his fingers.

“It’s fucking- yer hand.” Johnny practically whines, and you feel a surge of arousal move through you at the view he must be getting- of Simon’s hand pistoning in and out of you as your cunt seems to swallow his hand with each thrust.

The force behind the fingers fucking you intensifies and Simon’s tounge circles and rubs at your clit and Kyle pushes his thumb deeper into your mouth, holding your head still and using his thumb to press firmly down on your tongue, trapping the muscle against the bottom of your mouth.

You moan loudly, unable to cut off or muffle any of the sounds you’re making as your hips twitch and jerk.

Your cheeks burn as you realize you can already feel an orgasm beginning to build, each thrust feeling better and better as the feeling begins to build.

“Add another, Simon.” Price says from his chair in the corner. He’s leaned back in his seat with his legs spread comfortably. In one hand, he holds his burning cigar while the other lazily rests atop the tent in his pants as he watches the four of you in the bed.

Simon pulls his mouth away from your clit and sits up. You feel a third finger prod at your entrance, whining when it’s pulled away instead of pressed inside you alongside the other two.

“I’m trying.” Simon growls, looking up. “Garrick, get me the lube.” He adds, thrusting his hand hard enough into you for you to bounce and be shoved slightly up the bed.

You moan, trying not to drool around the thumb in your mouth, swallowing whatever drool had accumulated when Kyle moves his thumb to rest between your lip and the side of your teeth. He turns and uses his free hand to reach behind him and yank open the nightstand drawer, grabbing the bottle of clear liquid before passing it up to Simon and Johnny.

Simon’s hands don’t move from between your legs, instead, Johnny is the one to take the bottle and pop open the cap, squirting a generous amount onto where Simon’s hand is buried between your legs.

You moan as the slide of his fingers inside you turns 100 times sweeter, it’s almost enough to completely distract you from the stretch of a third finger being pushed into your cunt, and you can feel your orgasm creeping closer and closer with every thrust of Simon’s hand.

“It’s alright Bonnie, you’re almost there- Simon’s just got real gnarly fingers, not a good fit for pretty girls like you.” Johnny coos, rubbing his hand up and down over your tensed stomach in a soothing motion.

“Shut it.” Simon growls, decidedly unamused, increasing the force behind his fingers and going down to suck and lick at your clit until you’re twitching- hips jerking as you cry out and cum around his fingers.

You’re squirming your hips down and side to side to try and get Simon’s fingers deeper inside of you and drooling from both ends. From above your head, you can hear Kyle laughing, although you’re not sure whether at Johnny’s words or the pitiful display you’d just put on. Even Price is stifling a chuckle from his seat in the corner, looking down to hide his laughter even as his shoulders shake from the force of it.

Simon’s hands don’t still, even after the last aftershocks of your orgasm finally fade. Instead, he adds a fourth, continuing to bully your clit with his tongue and batter your inner walls until you’re writhing from overstimulation.

Kyle’s thumb goes back to pressing down on your tongue, and you let out what you're sure is an absolutely debauched sound as you squirm. It’s like you’re a doll stuck between them- made solely for them to poke, prod, play with, and bully. Your moans and cries only serve to spur them on further, and your squirming is easily negated by the strong arms that hold you in place.

You look pleadingly at Price, begging him with watery eyes to make Simon give you any kind of mercy, but he only laughs, his legs spread as he languidly jerks his thick, full cock and watches the four of you.

“Don’t look at me like that, Dove. I can’t save you.” He says, and you sob, looking up at Simon and tugging on where your hands are cuffed to the head board.

Simon switches from his mouth to using two fingers to rub circles into your clit, not missing a beat as he keeps pace with the hand currently fucking you.

“Simon- I can’t- it’s too much-“ You whine, only to be cut off by a hash slap to your hip.

“Shush. I’m almost done.” Simon responds, not looking up from where he’s meticulously stretching you open that last bit.

You open your mouth to speak, but Kyle shoves two fingers deep into your mouth, watching with a pleased grin as you gag and choke around the intrusion.

Tears that may be a bit more than reflex prick at your eyes, and just as it’s about to be too much, Simon pulls his fingers out of your cunt with a lewd, wet squelch.

“She’s ready.” He says, scooting back and wiping his hand on the side of your stomach, leaving a streak of cold wetness shining on your skin. “Who’s first?”

“ME!” Johnny yells, practically flinging himself forward. He scrambles between your open legs and yanks open the fly of his pants, freeing his drooling cock and giving it a few rough pumps before climbing on top of you.

Kyle has to move out of the way so as to not be crushed in the whirlwind of energy Johnny has become. He makes a teasing remark you can’t quite catch as Johnny captures you in a wet and messy kiss.

His hands trace the curves of your body, taking every opportunity to grab onto the pockets of fat you carry and squeeze. He gropes at your tits, ass, hips, thighs- anything he can get his hands on, all while kissing you as deep and hard as he can.

“Fuck, Bonnie- yer’ perfect.” He pants, giving your tit a particularly harsh squeeze. “I’m gonna take such good care of you.”

You can hear rumbles of “get on with it” from across the room and Johnny scoffs before sitting up, giving a slight roll of his eyes as he pats you twice on the hip.

“Alright, alright, the peanut gallery is getting impatient. Roll over for me, love.” Johnny says, and his face splits in a grin when you do exactly as he says, letting the chain of the handcuffs keeping your hands above your head twist as you roll on your stomach and get onto your knees. You keep your upper body against the mattress, sitting in an ass-up, face-down position that puts somewhat of a strain on your back.

The position prompts a deep groan from Johnny behind you. Your cunt is aching again. Johnny’s groping and kissing and practicing jumping your thigh had been enough to make you as wet and needy as you felt around Simon’s fingers.

“Fuck- Simon, you should’a opened up her ass for us too. Bet she could’ve taken two of us at once like that, yeah?” He asks, and you moan at the thought, squeezing around nothing as you press your hips back, silently begging for Johnny to hurry up and get inside of you.

The only response from Simon is a noncommittal grunt, but you hear a vague “we’ll see,” from Price.

Without warning, Johnny’s cock starts pushing into you and you moan, a warm, happy and content pleasure spreading through you as his cock easily slides inside of you.

“Fuck!” Johnny curses, hips stuttering halfway as he squeezes his eyes shut, his grip on your hips turning bruising as he takes deep, panting breaths.

“Gonna cum before you’re even inside our girl, sergeant?” Price barks, his words degrading but his tone light and amused. Regardless, you feel the jerk of Johnny’s hips in response.

“No, Sir.” Johnny says through gritted teeth, taking a final shuddering breath before pulling out and beginning to fuck his cock into you.

You moan, already somewhat lost in the pleasure as your head turns to the side.

You find Simon standing near the edge of the bed, looking down at you with his cock out and an unreadable expression. You feel yourself drooling at the sight of his large hand roughly jerking his fat cock, and you feel almost compelled to put on a show for him- moaning messily when Johnny curses and doubles over, thighs slapping your ass as the room fills with the sounds of sex.

When you see Simon’s hand tighten around himself, you take it as a victory, making a show of letting Johnny keep you pinned in place. His knees rest bracketing you on the mattress, while his hands pin down your arms by the wrists and his cock forces you again and again deeper into the mattress.

You’re so close, and it’s almost enough- but you don’t come with Johnny. He tries, continuing to fuck you even after you feel his thighs shaking and his cum spurting inside of you, but after a moment of fucking you though his own orgasm, he curses, pulling out and panting out apologies as he strokes your hair.

You whine when he pulls out, feeling his cum beginning to drip out of you and flopping onto your side to ease the strain on your back.

“Fuck- fuck, I’m sorry Bonnie. ‘Sorry I didn’t make it good for you. I can take care of you, I promise. I’ll lick your pussy so good you’ll never wanna-” He starts, being cut off by Kyle shoving at his shoulder, rolling his eyes.

“You can do that later, mate. ‘Rest of us want a go.” Kyle says, nudging again at Johnny to get him to move.

“But-“ Johnny whines, looking desperate.

“Kyle will take care of her, Johnny.” Price says, and Johnny relents, moving so Kyle can settle between your legs, his hands running up the sides of your hips gently.

“Alright love, it’s okay. I’ll take care of you, how about you just roll onto your back for me, alright?” He says, gently guiding you to roll back onto your back.

You mumble something incoherent, needy and dripping. Your body aches from holding your earlier position and you nearly moan in relief when Kyle scoots you up on the bed so your shoulders can be bent.

A hand smooths over your stomach and a kiss is pressed into the inside of your thigh. Kyle is sweeter about it than Johnny, rubbing appreciatively at whatever parts of you he can reach as he pulls his cock out.

“Please, Kyle-” You whine at the sight, admiring his- fittingly- pretty cock as he guides the tip to your hole.

He laughs, smiling down at you while his guides his swollen tip to your hole.

“It’s alright, I’ll take care of you.” He says, pressing in slow and steady while petting gently at your still sensitive clit.

You moan in relief, relaxing into his touch as he starts to pull out and thrust back in, rolling his hips into you so his cock hits every right place.

Again, it’s slower- sweeter than with Johnny, but you find yourself enjoying it just as much. The drag of his cock inside of you steadily increasing in pace, Kyle’s undeniably handsome face smiling down at you, the stimulation to your clit- all making for a slow, building orgasm that feels less intense but longer and harder all at the same time.

“Kyle-“ You whine, letting your head fall back and shuddering as he sucks wet hickeys into the tender skin.

When you come, Kyle is quick to follow, groaning at the feeling of your cunt squeezing and pulsing around his cock and grabbing you by the hips to pull you as deep onto his cock as he could as he came.

“Fuckin’ hell-“ Simon growled, watching the two of you, eyes transfixed on how your head flopped lazily to the side, watching him with hazy, post-orgasm high eyes.

You hear similar sentiments from around the room, but you’re too taken by the sight of Simon jerking himself off- almost mean in how he tugs and strokes himself.

You barely notice Kyle pulling out- too distracted with the sight of Simon practically bullying his cock into an orgasm.

“You’re up, Simon.” Kyle pants, heaving deep, heavy breaths as he moves for Simon to take his spot.

“Don’t fucking think I need it.” He hisses through gritted teeth. “Our girl paints’ too pretty of a sight.”

You squeeze your thighs together with a soft moan at the feeling of cum oozing out from between your legs, struck by a sudden urge to keep as much of it in as possible.

“Wait- Simon, inside-“ You say, spreading your legs, silently begging with your eyes as you try to reach out for Simon, desperate to have his cum inside of you with the other two’s.

But it’s too late. Simon groans, shuddering as he catches his release in his hand and braces himself against the night stand.

You watch as some of the precious liquid oozes out of his cupped hand, whining needily at the sight of it going to waste.

“Fuuuuck, L.t.” Johnny drawls, watching Simon’s hand full of cum with almost as much need as you.

“You didn’t finish inside….” You mumble, your lower lip wobbling. You’re sensitive enough that even this feels like it’s enough to bring you to tears.

Simon laughs softly at your despair, glancing down at his hand full of cum before slapping it against your cunt with a loud squelch, earning a yelp from you and a laugh from Soap as your back arches and his palm hits your thoroughly worked clit.

“That better, love?” Simon coos, his tone condescending as he wipes a tear from your face with the pad of his thumb, leaving what was left of his cum smeared on your face.

Despite the mocking nature of his words, you find yourself nodding. You would probably thank him for smearing his come over your abused cunt if he asked.

Before it can go any further, Price is stepping forward. You’d been so absorbed in the other three that you hadn’t noticed him standing up until just now- when he’s towering over you and holding his cock out, already moving to situate himself inside you.

“Alright, that’s enough. Leave the poor girl alone, she’s still got one more round she’s gotta’ give us tonight.” Price says, lifting your legs to his sides as he slowly starts to push in.

You make a noise somewhere between a whimper and a moan, and with the first thrust, you’ve already lost it- your entire body is bounced with the slaps of his thighs against your ass and moaning like a porn star as you do.

“Do you think that if we fuck it back into her enough it’ll take, Captain?” Kyle asks, earning a groan from Price.

“Fuck- don’t joke about that, Gaz.” He growls, his hands squeezing at your waist.

Vaguely, you can hear Simon say something about you already having “a belly full of cum,” and the other’s reactions to that statement, but you’re too lost in your head to understand what they’re all saying.

The only thing that mattered was the head of Price’s cock hammering into you- you were well and truly fucked dumb. Your clit was over sensitive and your cunt as a whole felt sore in the best of ways. You were too sensitive to take much more than a few minutes of Price fucking you like he was- thrust after thrust, bullying the same spot until the heat in your belly started to build and build until it snapped and you came with a cry, spasming around Price’s cock as he continued to fuck you. His own pace only started to falter when your moans turned to pitiful overstimulated cries- his hips twitching as he finally finished, burying himself to the hilt and gritting his teeth, groaning as he shot his load into you.

He remains draped over you for a moment, panting as he tries to catch his breath- stroking gently at your hair to keep you nice and floaty through your post-orgasm high. When you crack your eyes open, it's to Kyle unlocking your handcuffs and massaging the blood flow back into your hands while Price slowly pulls out of you, leaving you to whimper at the rough drag of his cock as it leaves you.

“Fucking hell…” Johnny groans at the sight of all the cum pooling out of you, his eyes wide and focused. Price is quick to catch his staring, patting Johnny on the shoulder as he speaks.

“Go get some water for her, alright?” He says, to which Johnny nods, swallowing thickly before standing up and grabbing a cup from the nightstand, going towards the bathroom to fill it up.

He nearly walks into Simon as he’s coming out of the bathroom with a wet washcloth. Johnny ducks to the side he sees him, barely managing to fit between him and the wall, which earns a raised eyebrow from Simon but not much else.

Price sits you up and leans you against Kyle, who’s perfectly content to hold you and coo soft praises to you while he pets at your hair and rubs your back.

You’re absolutely exhausted, and Kyle’s arms are more than comfortable enough for you to start to doze off in.

“You did so good for us, Love. So good.” Kyle says, wiping some of your tears away with his hand as Simon spreads your legs, making you perk up as he starts to gently wipe away all the cum, slick, and lube that’s smeared between your thighs.

No matter how gentle he is, the rough material of the washcloth is hell against the tender skin of an already sensitive area. You whine at the pain and try to close your legs, but your attempt only results in firm hands holding them apart.

John watches you squirm for a moment, still catching his breath as he watches Simon clean you up.

“Stop squirming.” Simon says, rolling his eyes at the whine you make in response, but ultimately continuing to work to get you clean.

Johnny comes back from the bathroom with a cup of water, standing to the side as he waits for Simon to finish before taking his place and working in tandem with Kyle to get you to drink something.

“Come on, you’ve got to drink some water before you can drift off.” Johnny says, and when the first bit of water touches your lips, you find yourself suddenly parched, draining the entire glass in a single sitting.

“Good job.” Kyle says, patting your head when you finish the water, pulling it to rest against his chest the same way you had been before.

You try to say thank you for the water, but all that comes out is a muffled, unintelligible noise. The moment your head’s back against Kyle’s chest, your eyes are closed.

After getting you situated, Simon folds the rag over to present a clean side and hands it over to Price, who thanks him before using it to clean the remnants of cum and slick off his cock, tucking himself back into his pants and zipping them up once he’s done.

“Alright, hand her over to me.” Price says, standing up and sitting down at the head of the bed, his back leaning against the headboard.

You groan softly as you’re passed from Kyle’s lap to Price’s, but you’re quick to settle into his arms regardless.

Around you, you can hear the sounds of the other three settling. You feel the bed dip as someone (or someones) lay down beside you, and someone pulls a blanket up over you.

“It’s alright love, you can go to sleep now.” Price says, patting you on the back and placing a kiss behind your ear.

You barely manage to acknowledge his words before you’re out cold.

Kinktober 2023 Masterlist

[writingoddess1125]

Morticia and Gomez Effect pt. 2

Mihawk X FemReader

Since people liked this made a part two!

Part 1 <<<

• Mihawk mood had been fowl as of late, Clearly issues had been getting to him silently. His wine intake growing and his irritation rising

• You needed to fix this, Anger was never the most attractive look for your husband anyway-

• He had been home for two days and still hadn't spoke. Instead sitting in his study and doing paperwork while drinking, Sometimes the waft of cigar smoke greeting you as well from the halls.

• "Growling at the wall?" You call out seeing him sitting there scowling at the wall with his face turned up like a beast growling.

• He glanced at you, Seeing you close the door behind you, as well as noticing your done up appearance- mainly the black dress that fit you like a lustful sin he had bought some time again- already lessening his angry face.

• "I am in no mood Wife, leave me" He said with a irritated sigh. He never called you 'Wife' only when truly upset did he say this, Just like how when he was furious he would use your name.

• "I see, so you don't wish for your spirits to be lifted?" You said with a smirk starting to crawl across your face. Walking to the other side of his desk to close a curtain.

• "No- nor do I wish for whatever parlor trick you have p-pla-" Mihawk couldn't even finish his sentence as you pulled down the front of your dress flashing him your naked chest with a smile.

• Just like any man at any age his eyes widened and mind blank at the sight of breast. You quickly pulling the dress back up with a smile.

• He frozen, His drink almost falling from his hand if he didn't clumsily catch it and hold it steady.

• Mihawk stared at you for a moment like he was trying to formulate a response, his stoic face starting to break as a hearty laugh broke through his lips. His woes easily being wiped away by your trick as he tried to wave it away.

• "Dragostea mea (My Darling) you are too much, drawing me from my mood in such a childish way" He mused as he reached his arm out and pulling you into his lap.

• You smile at his words and nestle yourself against his strong chest, Your fingers playing with the cross on his chest.

• "Well anything for you my Love~" You smile and pepper kisses on his face and lips. He gives a delighted groan and his hand travels to find the zipper of the dress.

• "Idle hands my Love" You warn making him grumble for a short while- Mainly cause you both knew what was coming.

• His lips falling from its smile as the door bursted open and Perona March in like she owned the place. Recently you had been in charge of training her- Especially since you felt like Mihawk was too soft on her.

• Mihawk sighed as he sat up and saw Perona standing there making a face at the two of you.

• "So Gross!-" She tried as she stared at you two and invaded the space, You smoothing down your dark gown as you stared at the young woman with a amused face.

• "What do you want Perona?" Mihawk said as she stomped into the room, You watching her glare at you and look away flustered.

• "I never got a thank you from you for my recent mission!" She yelled as she pointed to you

• "Thats because you failed-" You spoke plainly.

• "I didn't fail!" She began to rant about the events of loosing to someone who flashed rainbow colors and worse 'disgusting' pastels.

• "So you lost to someone in pastels, Didn't get the information needed, didn't listen to the advice I gave you for the last mission. Now you come through here causing a ruckus cause I will not reward you?" You spoke very carefully, watching her stiffen at the lace of irritation through your voice.

• She shuffled a bit awkwardly and gave a single nod. You sighing at this-

• "Now your failing in the mission is one thing but my darling girl- Being beaten by Pastels?" You mused, she had fallen prey to a pastel nightmare was just too much of a burn. Her face turning as pink as her dress as she fluttered out screaming and throwing a temper tantrum thankfully she slammed the door closed behind her.

• Mihawk sighing as he leaned in his chair and pulled you back against him properly.

• "Disobedient" You hummed with a tired sigh.

• "If we had our own they would be more obedient and skilled" He mused, You feeling him place another kiss to the back of your neck.

• Surprised by his words you roll so you are facing him now, seated on him like a saddle. His intense yellowed eyes meeting your gaze before continuing to kiss you this time down your throat.

• "You're making it sound like you actually want one?" You said in mused question, a few breathy moans leaving you as he proceeded to bite rather hard down on your soft skin and his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips.

• Catching his gaze as he pulls back you could read him like a picture book. He did?

• "You actually want a child?" You hummed as your eyebrow raised, Feeling your husband's eyes wonder your form. His arm doing a quick sweep over his desk to push everything to the side and floor, uncaring as he had a goal in mind.

• "I am surprised we haven't already given an army due to us taking caution to the wind" He said calmly, setting you on the desk as his hands made easy work of rolling up the dark garment over your thighs.

• "Well if it's an army you want-" You purr and pull him closer to you by the cross around his neck feeling him close the distance between you two. "We better make up for lost time~"

• He smirked at this as he leaned down to kiss you with wine flavored lips as his hands found the front of your dress and in a fluid motion ripped the fabric down the center.

• Lost time indeed

Tag list-

@who-the-hockeysticks @vexladin

[babygirl-riley]

Growing Pains

this art work belongs to my all time favorite CoD fan artist. @ave661

Simon holds his baby thinking about when you announced that you were pregnant.

Warnings: fluff, smut, swearing, dad!simon

simon x reader guide

simon x reader family edition

Simon held onto his baby girl as she slept on his chest. She wore his favorite pants she has, skulls littering all over the grey of the shorts and just a simple shirt. Socks covering her feet so she didn’t get cold. He patted her back and rubbing up and down.

Never did he think that he would have a child. Let alone a baby girl. Simon thought about how he wouldn’t be the best dad and was afraid to be one. When meeting you that was the first conversation you both had.

“No kids.” He mumbled sipping his tea as you flipped a pancake.

“No kids,” You repeated. “Then you buy plan Bs since you don’t like condom nor pulling out.”

Simon chuckled at that. You were right he hated both. He loved to feel you gummy walls as the tightened around his cock. And he loved the thought of his cum coating your walls. “Fine.” He said softly standing up to walk to you and kiss your neck.

Five years later the topic was brought up. This time it wasn’t cause of not having one. “Simon,” You whispered through the phone. He knew this voice. Something happened. Something not good. He was gone on an assignment for three months. You have been wanting to mention to him about the forming bump before he got home. This time you had to. You couldn’t have him come home to that. “I’m pregnant.”

Simon thought he heard wrong. He had to. There isn’t anyway. “You sure?”

You sighed tears rolling down your face. Sob coming out. That’s when it hit him. It was true. You sobbed telling him you are terrified and didn’t know what to say. Simon stayed silent. He didn’t know what to do or say either. After a couple of minutes and you stopped talking. His heart was ripping he wanted to comfort you yet he was fucking terrified. “How far along?”

“3 months.”

Simon wanted to laugh. Of fucking course. This had to be a joke. You knew his thoughts about having kids. His thoughts would go back to his dad and what he would think about if he was a dad. Turn like his own. “‘Ight,” He sighed rubbing his painted eyes with his glove. “It’s gonna be fine.”

Price knew something was up with Simon when he was trying to take his time to go home. Usually he would be the first out. “Ya still here?” Price asked walking to him. Simon just nodded. “You and the Misses fight?”

Simon sighed shaking his head. “She pregnant.”

Price was taken a back. “Pregnant?”

Simon sighed once more. “I don’t know what to do.”

Price chuckled actually chuckled and loud. Price rubbed his chin taking out a cigar. “That’s what I said too Simon.” Both Simon and Price sat against Simon’s truck talking about pregnancy and what Price’s wife went through. What to expect. Especially not to be scared. Price explained that you were already terrified. Especially since this wasn’t planned.

When he walked through the door, it was dark and quiet. You were in bed, he did take long of coming home. When he took off his boots and clothes, showered before crawling into bed. Watching your body rise and fall from your sleep. When he started to wrap his arm around you, he felt it. The bump. The form. The child. He rubbed your stomach. “Alright kiddo. You win.” He whispered, pulling you closer.

The next day you woke up last (per usual). You noticed that it was recently warm, knowing that he just got out. You saw a distant light illuminating the hallway. You got out putting on your favorite robe, that kept you warm. Noting that it started to shrink. :(

When you reached the kitchen, he was in the back balcony. Mug in hand. Watching the sun come over the hills. You stepped out, having him turn to you, he moved his hand to grab yours and kissed its palm, before placing on your stomach. “‘M scared.” He whispered.

You put your hand over his and nodded. “I am too.”

Simon was silent looking at your belly. “What if I…” You placed your finger against his lips and walked around to straddle his hips.

“I’m going to stop you right there, I could tell you many ways how you are not your father,” You explained, he looked up at your face you massaged the back of his scalp. He sighed into it. “You might be tough skinned but you also have the biggest heart Simon.”

Simon sat there watching your smile, your eyes full of adoration. He smiled and placed a hand on your cheek. You leaned into it closing your eyes, feeling his warmth radiating. “I love ya so much.” He mumbled kissing you on the lips.

The next couple of months it was amazing. Simon would hold you, help out with putting on shoes when your feet would disappear. Rubbed your belly and hummed to the baby. He would kiss your stomach. He even lifted your tummy so you could have some relief. Soon enough Simon was coming more and more on terms with having a baby. With you. Having a mini both of you running around.

When she was born he was late, he was just landing as he sprinted to his truck. Soap pattering along with. As Soap drove Simon was on the phone with your mom who was informing him of the early birth. Saying you were alright just the baby was ready to be born. Simon was worried that he wouldn’t make it in time as Soap drove through the streets in high speeds.

Simon was throwing his gear off as much as possible. At least look decently alright, he would mess with his blond locks as he sprinted inside the hospital. Nurses guided him to the room that he heard painful screams. When he walked through, you were pushing already. “Si.” You whispered reaching for him.

Simon ran to your aid, holding your hand as the doctor would encourage you to push. Simon kissed your forehead with the breaks as you leaned into him. “You’re late.” You joke smiling at him. He smiled and brushed your sweaty hair out of your face. Before he could make a joke to you the doctor ask for one more push.

Simon thought you were beautiful, sweat and all. Most of all he felt terrible about the pain you were enduring. After one last squeeze of your hand and loud scream. A loud wail came from the bottom of you. You laid back in relief as you panted for some air. Simon was frozen as they moved his little girl over to clean her up.

You watched them then turned to Simon. “Go see her.” You whispered drawing circles into his hand. He looked down at you and immediately you knew he was scared yet excited. “It’s okay.”

Simon nodded once and walked over to his bay girl. The nurses moved over (even though they didn’t need to since he towered over them.) He watched as her face would change into scrunching then not. She started to whimper instead of crying. The doctor looked up at Simon and smiled. “You ready dad?”

Simon nodded once as they passed the bundle of blanket over. She was tiny in his arms. The doctor explained where to hold and placements. You watched as you teared up, watching your boyfriend of all people being told how to hold a baby. Your baby. His baby. Simon looked up at you, tears brimming in his eyes as he walked to you carefully.

You reached out for both you and the baby. “Ya did good lovie,” he whispered into your hair as he gently placed the baby against your chest. “I love you.”

You looked over at him as you smiled, tears falling down. “We did baby, I love you so much.”

Simon held onto her tighter as he remembered that day. The day he felt so many emotion for one little thing. She cooed and was chewing on her hand, Simon kissed her forehead as she cooed. “How you changed everythin’. Ya know?” He whispered picking her up to view her face.

She giggle as she reached for his face. Simon smiled as kissed her nose, she wiggled her head and laughed. Simon brought her closer smiling, she grabbed his face, as their forehead together. “I love you.” He said smiling as she grabbed the back of his hair.

He slowly pulled her hand out of his hair. You stood in the hallway watching as he laid her down on her tummy to teach her crawling. Your heart swelled watching quietly when he had his moments like that. All that mattered is that he became better than his own father.

[xthejazzdalorianx]

Forbidden Heat (One-Shot)

pairing(s): dbf!oldman!logan x f!reader

warning(s): explicit, minors do not interact! plot with porn, SMUT, yearning, angst, fluff, p in v sex, oral sex, sexual tension, oblivious father, logan being a flirt as always. let me know if i am missing anything because i am still learning.

author’s notes: hi y’all! i feel like it has been awhile since i have written something. this one made me giggle too much as i was writing it. i am working on a charles xavier one, but it still in the works. also, i forgot to mention that i am still working on my own signature format for this. anyways…. please let me know if y’all have any advice for me!

word count: 4.5K

- - - - - - -

summary: In this story, the reader returns home after four years away, eager to reconnect with her father and meet his friend Logan. The excitement of reunion quickly turns into a tense attraction between her and Logan, leading to a passionate encounter.

- - - - - - -

The clock reads 5pm as you arrive at the airport in upstate New York. It's a bustling day, especially compared to your days at school in Texas. The air was thick with the excitement of reunion, a palpable energy that hummed beneath the ticking of the clock and the bustling crowds. Your heart raced with anticipation, knowing that in just a few moments, you would be in your father's embrace once again.

As you enter the gates and head towards the baggage claim, you can't help but imagine your dad waiting for you with open arms. It's been a whole four years since you last returned home. You're excited to reconnect with your dad and catch up on all that has happened since he retired from teaching. He mentioned over the phone that he and his best friend Logan have been busy tinkering with motorcycles and cars, so you're eager to hear all about it in person.

Lost in your thoughts, you were caught off guard when your dad's waving finally registered. He had already picked up your luggage and was waiting with a beaming smile. You quickly take off your headphones and run into his open arms, giving him a warm hug.

"Dad! I can't believe I'm finally back," you say, flashing a bright smile. He gives you a reassuring pat on the back as you let go of the embrace. "Hey kiddo, it's great to have you home again. And this time, for good?" he asks with a quizzical look.

You say confidently, "I'm here to stay, whether you like it or not." Your dad laughs and gives you a knowing look. As you both walk out of the baggage claim area, you suggest, "Maybe I can get a a part-time job as a barista at Bonnie’s Coffee Grounds." Your dad nods in agreement. Outside, the noise and constant jostling of people make it hard to hear each other. Despite the chaos, your dad's smile remains as he guides you towards a waiting truck.

You slowly realize that the truck blocking your view is not your dad's familiar Chevy, but a Ford. Maybe a Ford F250? You can't be sure; you've spent enough time around trucks to know the difference at least. As you and your dad approach the vehicle, the windows roll down to reveal your dad's good friend, Logan.

Logan sits behind the wheel, wearing his trademark sunglasses, a tank top peeking out from under a black and red flannel, jeans, and his trusty boots. In one hand, he holds a cigar while the other rests casually on the steering wheel.

"Welcome back, darlin'," he greets you with a voice as smooth as honey. Your cheeks flush at his words and you try to play it off with a smile. "Feels good to be back," you reply through gritted teeth.

A soft chuckle escapes Logan's lips as he notices your flushed cheeks. Thankfully, your dad doesn't seem to catch on as he helps you into the truck and tosses your bags in the back. He takes his seat next to you and we set off towards our homes in the suburban outskirts of the city. Returning home feels strange with all the bright city lights and towering skyscrapers dominating the landscape.

You spend the remainder of the car ride plugged into your music, listening to your favorite songs. Logan occasionally glances at you through the rearview mirror before readjusting it and returning his focus to the road. It takes an hour to reach your hometown. The charming single-story houses in the neighborhood are just as you remembered them, complete with their white picket fences.

- - - - - - -

As Logan pulls his truck into your father's driveway and turns off the engine, he sets his sunglasses down in the cupholder. You feel a mixture of excitement and nervousness as you quickly put your phone and earphones back into the pockets of your jean shorts. Your dad and Logan are the first to get out of the truck, with Logan kindly holding open the door for you and closing it once you're outside.

Your father takes the lead, directing the group as he grabs your bags. Logan places a reassuring hand on your lower back, sending a jolt of electricity through you that intensifies the warmth between your legs and creates a throbbing sensation. Your cheeks flush with embarrassment when you notice Logan's playful smirk and you let out a soft gasp as he winks at you before guiding you towards the house.

Your dad struggles with your luggage while trying to open the door. "Logan, could you lend a hand?" he asks, and Logan breaks away from touching your back to help. The sensation lingers, sending tingles over your body as they finally manage to open the door with a gentle push.

As you drift off in thought again, Logan snaps you out of it when they cross the threshold of the front door. Your dad sets your luggage near the living room couch while Logan heads to the kitchen to get them both beers. You make your way to your old room which hasn't changed since you left for college and is slightly messy.

The walls are still painted a soft shade of lilac with delicate flowers and leaves arranged with care. Your bed is still covered in plush purple velvet sheets and pillowcases. Now that you think about it, this might not be the most age-appropriate room for you, but you shrug it off.

You set your luggage down on the bed and start organizing your things. Your dad can be heard in the distance, letting Logan know that he will be in the garage before ordering pizza for dinner later on. Logan responds with his usual grunt before you hear the garage door close. As you clean and organize your room, you hum to yourself. You are completely unaware when Logan leans against the frame of your bedroom door. Startled, you nearly jump out of your skin when you see him there.

You scold him with a frown, "Don't startle me like that! It's so rude." He just smirks in response. "Your dad wanted me to let you know he'll be ordering pizza." You nod at Logan's words, feeling your cheeks flush with embarrassment for being caught off guard. You wish you could disappear into the comfort of your bed and dream about anything else. Unfortunately, the outside world is more complex than that. His eyes seem fixated on you, taking in every inch of your form, sending shivers down your spine. You clear your throat and turn back to organizing your suitcase.

- - - - - - -

Watching Logan's retreating form, a hint of sadness creeps into your heart. However, you quickly push those emotions away and concentrate on the growing tension in your body. You set down your luggage and close the door quietly. Quickly, you strip off your clothes and let them tumble into a heap on the floor. Then, you hop onto your bed and retrieve your go-to item from inside your nightstand: a dark pink vibrator that never fails to get the job done.

You lie back on your bed, your heart racing as you turn on the vibrator and press it against your clit. You let out a soft moan as the vibrations travel through your body. You close your eyes and imagine Logan's hands on your body, his lips on yours. The mere thought of him whispering in your ear and commanding you to beg for more makes you whimper.

You slide the vibrator lower, teasing your entrance before slowly pushing it inside. You gasp at the sensation, your body quivering with pleasure. You move the vibrator in and out, increasing the speed as you get closer to orgasm. You bite your lip to keep from making too much noise, not wanting anyone to hear you.

You imagine Logan's hands gripping your hips, his body on top of yours. You imagine him thrusting into you, his cock hitting just the right spot. You feel yourself getting closer and closer, your entire body tense with anticipation.

With one final thrust, you let out a muffled cry as you orgasm, your body shaking with pleasure. You lie there for a moment, catching your breath, before turning off the vibrator and setting it aside. You feel a sense of relief and satisfaction wash over you, knowing that you can always rely on your trusty toy when you need it.

- - - - - - -

You jump out of bed and quickly change into a tight tank top and sleep shorts. Feeling a bit shaky, you clean your vibrator and put it back in your nightstand drawer. As the guilt washes over you, you think about what happened earlier. It's your first day back and you couldn't control yourself.

You push away those thoughts and finish tidying up your room, putting away your luggage in an organized manner. With everything in place, you decide to pass the time by reading a book. After approximately thirty minutes, there is a knock on your door. "Hey, it's Logan. The pizza has arrived," he announces before heading to the kitchen. He runs his hand through his hair, trying to distract himself. Has he always been so fascinated by you? Trying to maintain his composure, he leans against the kitchen counter and crosses his strong arms over his chest.

He attempts not to think about the scent of your perfume because it was highly alluring to him. He gazes up at the ceiling and closes his eyes as he lets out a sigh. When he returned from hanging out with your father in the garage, he was on his way to the bathroom when he heard moaning and whimpering coming from your room. As he crept closer to the door, he could hear you and it made him incredibly aroused. He couldn't shake the image from his mind when he heard you; it drove him wild. He longed to open the door, throw you onto your bed, and ravish you right then and there.

But he knows he can’t do that with your dad around, and he isn't sure if you would even be interested in him. He lets out an even bigger sigh. When he lowers his head to look ahead of him, he sees you standing there. You are looking at him curiously. His cock twitches at the sight of you in that tight tank top and sleep shorts. He wants to rip them off of you and...he mentally scolds himself for having such thoughts.

- - - - - - -

As you approach Logan, a heavy tension fills the air between you two. His heart hammers against his chest, his breath coming in short gasps as he feels your intense gaze upon him. The heat radiating from your body is suffocating, making him break into a cold sweat.

You lean in closer, your intoxicating scent enveloping him and sending shivers down his spine. The mere sound of your voice is enough to send electricity coursing through his veins.

Logan's mouth goes dry as he watches your lips form the words "Logan, could you also grab me a beer, please?" Every fiber of his being screams for him to put some distance between you, but he can't resist the pull that draws him to you. His mind races with forbidden thoughts of what it would be like to taste those luscious lips.

With trembling hands, he makes his way to the fridge. His arousal is evident as he struggles to maintain control over his body's physical response to you. As he hands you the beer, their fingers brush lightly and a jolt of desire shoots through him like lightning.

Your simple thank-you sends a shockwave through his body as he watches you bring the bottle to your lips, taking a slow and tantalizing sip. The sight of your tongue caressing the bottle's edge sets his imagination on fire, envisioning it sliding along his cock that is screaming to be free from his jeans.

He knows he shouldn't be having such impure thoughts about you, but he can't help it. You ignite something primal within him that he can't ignore.

Trying to regain some semblance of composure, Logan takes a step back. But the visual feast before him proves too much to handle. Your hardened nipples pressing against the thin fabric of your tank top has him struggling not to give into temptation.

Feeling overwhelmed with lust and confusion, he tries to hide his inner turmoil behind a forced smile. "Do you need anything else?" he asks, his voice strained.

Your eyes hold a hint of curiosity and something else that Logan can't quite decipher. He wonders if you can sense how much he desires you in this moment. But when you break eye contact to focus on the pizza, he lets out a sigh of relief, grateful for the small reprieve.

As Logan watches you eat, a tense silence hangs in the air between you. Finally, unable to contain the swirling emotions inside him any longer, he speaks up.

"You know, I heard some noises earlier... coming from your room," Logan stutters, his voice betraying the turmoil within him.

You look up from your pizza, a hint of surprise flashing across your face before you quickly compose yourself. "Oh, um... yeah, sorry about that. It was nothing, I just… put on a movie," you respond casually, though a faint blush creeps up your cheeks.

Logan's eyes widen slightly at your explanation, his mind racing. "Right… Yeah, totally understandable," he mumbles, trying to shake off the images that still lingered in his mind.

- - - - - - -

The tension between you two thickens as you both struggle to find the right words to break the awkwardness that now fills the room.

After a moment of silence, Logan clears his throat and tries to steer the conversation in a different direction. "So… how was your day back? Did you… uhm… miss being here?" he asks tentatively, his gaze flickering nervously between you and his half-eaten pizza.

You sense Logan's unease and decide to lighten the mood. "Yeah, it's been good so far. And well, let's just say it's definitely nice to be back," you reply with a playful smirk, hoping to ease the tension that still lingers between you two.

Logan chuckles softly at your response, grateful for the brief moment of normalcy amidst the charged atmosphere. "Glad to hear that," he says with a small smile, his eyes meeting yours briefly before darting away. Your dad comes in from the garage, wiping his hands on a rag.

He heads towards the kitchen to wash his hands. "How's the pizza, champ?" he glances back and sees you happily munching on a slice. After you swallow, you answer, "It's great, thanks Dad." You give him a smile. He nods and finishes drying his hands with a paper towel.

"Hey man, have you given it a try yet?" Logan shakes his head, but walks over to the dining table and grabs a slice for himself. He takes a bite and grins. Your dad also cuts himself a slice and joins in on the tasting. Once everyone has had their fair share of two or more slices, your dad declares he's heading to bed. It's just you and Logan left in the living room, watching some TV."

- - - - - - -

Sitting on opposite ends of the couch, you and Logan exchange a quick glance. His gaze is already fixed on you, and he gives you a playful smirk as your cheeks flush with a light pink hue. He pats his thigh and teasingly says, "Why don't you come sit closer to me, sweetheart? I won't bite...unless that's what you're into." You give him a shy smile before standing up and making your way over to him, feeling the couch sink beneath your weight as you settle in next to him. His thigh brushes against yours, sending electric sparks through your body.

You try to focus on the movie playing on the television in front of you, but it's hard to concentrate with Logan's leg pressed against yours. You take a deep breath and try to steady yourself as you watch him out of the corner of your eye. When you lean forward to grab your beer, his eyes follow the movement of your throat as you swallow. The cool liquid helps soothe some of the heat building between your legs.

Logan watches you drink, his fingers itching to touch you. He can feel his own arousal growing as he imagines running his hands all over your body. The background noise from the television fades into the background as he focuses solely on you.

Finally, unable to resist any longer, Logan turns towards you and whispers in your ear, "Do you need any help with that vibrator from earlier?" His voice is low and husky, causing a rush of excitement through your body. You gulp nervously and look around the room, hoping that your dad is not lurking nearby.

With a subtle nod from her, the intense sexual tension between you and Logan ignites like a tightly coiled wire snapping. You quickly finish your beer and place it on the coffee table, then straddle him eagerly. Your thighs press against his hips as you lean in for a passionate kiss. His hands grip your waist, pulling you closer until your bodies fit together seamlessly. You can feel the hardness of his erection pressing against his jeans, teasing the warmth between your own legs.

Logan's lips trail down to your jawline, nibbling and sucking on the sensitive skin there. "Fuck, princess, I've been craving to taste you all night," he growls in a low, rough voice filled with desire. You moan in response, grinding your body against his as his fingers slip under your tank top to tease your nipple.

You lose yourself in the heat of the moment as his lips find yours again. Your hands roam across his chest, tracing the hard muscles beneath his layered tank top and flannel shirt. He groans into your mouth.

In one swift motion, Logan pulls away from the kiss and lifts you up into his arms. You wrap your arms around his neck as he carries you down the hallway to your bedroom, shutting the door softly behind him. He gently lays you down on the bed, his body pressing against yours as he starts to undress you.

His lips trail a path of hot kisses down your neck, stopping at the base of your throat before moving to your breasts. He takes each one in his hands, teasing your nipples until they are hard and sensitive. You arch your back, moaning with pleasure as he sucks on one of them.

His fingers slide down your stomach and hook onto the waistband of your shorts. He pulls them down along with your panties, leaving you bare before him. He gazes down at you, his eyes full of desire. "You're so fucking beautiful, darlin," he whispers hoarsely.

He continues his descent down your body, leaving a trail of hot, eager kisses behind. When he reaches the apex of your thighs, he pauses, taking a moment to appreciate the sight before him. Your pussy is glistening with anticipation, and he can't help but groan at the sight. Without hesitation, he buries his face between your legs, inhaling deeply.

His mouth finds your clit, swollen and sensitive, and he wastes no time in lavishing it with attention. His tongue flicks and teases, tracing circles around the sensitive bundle of nerves before darting inside to taste your wetness. You gasp, your hips bucking involuntarily as he works his magic.

He adds his middle finger to join in, sliding easily inside your slick folds. He curls them upward, finding your g-spot with practiced ease. You cry out quietly, your body trembling as he rubs and teases the sensitive spot. His tongue continues to work your clit, alternating between fast flicks and slow, lingering licks.

He adds a second finger, stretching you deliciously as he pumps them in and out. Your moans fill the room, your body writhing beneath him as he brings you to the edge of release. He can feel your muscles clenching around his fingers, your body begging for release.

With one final, teasing flick of his tongue, you cry out quietly, "Oh god, Logan!" Your orgasm washes over you, your body convulsing as wave after wave of pleasure rolls through you. He continues to kiss and nibble at your sensitive flesh, drawing out your orgasm until you're left panting and spent.

Logan looks up at you, his eyes dark with desire, and murmurs, "You taste so fucking good." Your eyes are hazy with pleasure.

- - - - - - -

He starts to kiss his way up your body, his lips leaving a trail of fire on your skin. As he reaches your breasts, he pauses to circle each nipple with his tongue before taking it into his mouth and sucking gently. You arch your back, pushing yourself further into his touch as he teases and plays with your sensitive flesh.

"Logan, please," you beg, "I need you inside me." He chuckles softly before moving to position himself between your thighs. He leans in to whisper in your ear, "Patience, my love. We have all night."

He starts to slowly enter you, his cock pressing against your slick entrance teasingly before inching its way inside. Each delicious inch fills you completely, stretching you wider and making you gasp with pleasure. Your walls clench around him as he begins to move, thrusting deep inside you with every stroke. His pace is tantalizingly slow, drawing out each sensation until you're writhing beneath him, desperate for more.

He reaches down to cup your ass, pulling you closer and driving himself even deeper. But that's not all - his fingers find their way to your clit, rubbing it in slow circles as he continues to thrust. You cry out in surprise and pleasure, your hips bucking to meet his as he expertly works your sensitive bundle of nerves.

"Fuck, you feel amazing," he groans, his voice low and husky. You respond by tightening your grip on him, pulling him even closer and matching his movements thrust for thrust. His fingers continue to work your clit, building the tension inside you until you're on the brink of release.

But Logan isn't done yet. He increases his pace, driving into you with a fierce intensity that takes your breath away. Each stroke is deeper and harder than the last, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. You moan and gasp, your body trembling with pleasure as he continues to rub your clit and thrust into you.

It's not long before you feel yourself building towards another orgasm. But Logan shows no signs of slowing down. He keeps up his relentless pace, his stamina seemingly boundless as he drives you higher and higher. You cry out as you come, your body shaking and trembling with the force of your release.

Logan follows shortly after, his own orgasm shuddering through him as he collapses on top of you. But even as he catches his breath, his fingers continue to work your clit, drawing out your orgasm until you're boneless and spent. You lie there, panting and satisfied, wrapped in each other's arms and basking in the afterglow of passion. Logan finally lifts himself up slightly to meet your gaze. His eyes are soft now, filled with a tender affection that makes your heart flutter.

- - - - - - -

"I crave more of you," he murmurs, his voice a low rumble as he tucks a stray lock of hair behind your ear. "I can't get enough."

You smirk up at him, feeling the weight of his words pool low in your belly. "Is that so?" you tease, tracing your fingers along the sharp angles of his jaw.

"I mean it," he insists, his tone sincere. "I've never felt anything like this before."

You feel a warmth blooming in your chest at his words, realizing just how deeply connected you are in this moment. "Me neither," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

Logan's hand moves to caress your cheek, his thumb gently stroking your skin. "I want to make you feel good," he murmurs, his eyes searching yours for any sign of doubt.

You meet his gaze head-on, determination shining through. "I trust you," you say firmly, the conviction in your voice unwavering.

With a tender smile, Logan leans down to capture your lips in a slow, passionate kiss. His touch is gentle yet confident as he guides you both towards another round of shared ecstasy. And as the night unfolds before you, filled with whispers of longing and gasps of pleasure, you know that this connection between you and Logan is something truly special.

- - - - - - -

The following morning, you get dressed and brush your teeth before making your way to the kitchen. Upon entering, you are taken aback to see Logan sitting at the table with your father. You feel a bit embarrassed for oversleeping and assume that Logan must have left before anyone else woke up. Clearing your throat and putting on a smile, you join them at the table.

"Good morning, Dad," you mumble, trying to ignore the teasing glint in his eyes. "Sorry about that, I must have slept really hard."

Logan briefly looks up from his coffee and then quickly averts his gaze, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. "No worries," he says casually, taking another sip. "I made breakfast for us."

You take a seat next to him, grateful but also feeling awkward at his gesture. The tension is palpable as you try to act normal, while your mind continues to process what happened between you two last night.

Your dad breaks the silence with a soft chuckle. "Logan was just telling me about some of his adventures," he comments with a mischievous gleam in his eye.

Logan gives your dad a small smile before turning back to you. "Your dad has some pretty interesting stories too," he says nonchalantly, attempting to lighten the mood.

You nod and laugh, thankful for the distraction. "Yeah, my dad always has some wild tales," you say with a smirk.

As breakfast continues, the atmosphere becomes more relaxed and comfortable. You find yourself trading playful banter with Logan and your dad, the earlier awkwardness fading away with each passing moment.

After finishing their meal, Logan stands up and stretches before giving you a warm smile. "Thanks for breakfast," he says sincerely. "I should probably head out now."

Your heart sinks a little at the thought of him leaving so soon, but you understand. "Yeah, thanks for everything," you reply softly.

Logan gathers his things and your dad gives him a friendly pat on the back. "Take care, buddy. You're always welcome here," he says warmly.

As Logan walks towards the door, you watch him leave with a mix of longing and hope for what the future may hold between the two of you.

- - - - - - -