Stacy’s Mom Has Got It Goin’ On ˚̣̣ ᵕ̣̣̣̣̣̣
Pairing: Husband!Rafe Cameron x Soccer-mom!Wife!Reader
It’s not easy being a soccer-mom, especially when dads hit on you at every game as if you’re not married to Rafe.
Wc: 1,596
Fluff, Protective Rafe making an appearance, kinda pushy guy (idk what to say)
An: I’ve really wanted to write a fic based on this song, and this idea randomly popped into my head so! Am I using the names I wanna name my kids? Yes, yes I am.
Not proofread tbh
Feedback always appreciated lovelies!! xx
“I’ll be back, ‘mkay doll?”
You hum in acknowledgement, eyes peering back at the field after looking up.
Your husband, Rafe leant down and places a firm kiss on your forehead.
“Yeahhh, Daddy’s gonna be back, baby.” Rafe coos at your two year old, who was sitting on your lap, babbling freely while peering at him with her big doe eyes.
Rafe walks off the bleachers; in search of the concession stand to buy food for the three of you.
You brush your hand over your young daughter’s head, making sure her somewhat oversized hat is still covering her head entirely. Her hand wraps around your index finger.
It was oddly humid today, if you continued moving, you’d break a slight sweat. You can't even imagine what your daughter -Stacy must be feeling, running around on the large grassy field under the beaming bright sun.
You were proud of your baby girl though, nonetheless. And so was Rafe, of course.
You shout loudly when you notice the game is about to start, bellowing out a “Go Stacy!”
Stacy’s eyes easily found yours, for you and Rafe would always sit in the same spot on the bleachers.
Her eyes were slightly wide due to your shout, despite you and Rafe always cheering for her during her games.
She’s motioning for you to ‘shh’, putting her fingers to her lips before getting into her position.
“Which one’s yours?” You hear to the left of you, the unknown voice makes you tear your eyes away from the field.
You smile shortly at the unfamiliar man next to you, “Number 22.”
You can’t help but notice how he’s rather scruffy looking, an odd contrast to your upkept husband with his neatly buzzed hair.
“Mine’s number 13.” He says, flashing his teeth at you.
You gasp and shoot up a little, making you look down at your daughter on your lap. “Valerie’s yours? Oh she’s just the sweetest!”
The man chuckles, looking deeply in your eyes. This makes your eyebrows raise, slightly in confusion, but mostly in discomfort.
He hadn’t done anything out of the norm, you’d randomly talk to the other moms around too, but something about him made you uncomfortable.
“My name's Brandon, and yours?”
You introduce yourself briefly, before turning back towards the game.
His eyes dart to your left hand, looking for a ring, for any indication that you belong to someone else. He smiles sharply when he finds your fingers bare. This goes unnoticed by you.
Little does he know, you do have your ring on, just around your neck.
Your biggest fear was your youngest accidentally pulling off your ring, resulting in you losing it. Or, even worse: it pokes her eye or something of that nature.
You suppose you could be considered a ‘Helicopter-mom’ at times, simply going to the extremes to make sure your kids are happy and healthy at every point in time.
Rafe is the exact same way, maybe even a little worse. But you knew he was just protective, he loves this life that he has with you, since he had no idea the two of you would’ve been together for so long.
You had started dating Rafe when you were 18 and he was 19. It was good for the first few months, disregarding the few arguments that you had. But then, you had caught Rafe doing cocaine.
You don’t think you’ll ever be able to shake the look on his face from your memory.
You weren’t supposed to be at the party, you said you were busy filling out college applications.
So when he was mid-line, and he saw you standing there all dolled up, watching him with glossy eyes, he felt his heart shatter into pieces.
You weren’t supposed to find out, he wanted to keep this away from you, to keep you close to him.
He promised that he would try and stay sober for you, but eventually he’d give in every time the opportunity was in front of him. This resulted in several arguments, and surprisingly, a break up.
But things are different now. You both are in your 30’s, you got married, and of course, had two beautiful babies together.
Rafe knew he’d be crazy to fuck things up now, when he has the perfect life right in front of him.
Speaking of which; you’re really starting to wonder what the hell is taking him so long just to get some goddamn hotdogs and drinks.
You’re bouncing your knee anxiously, which makes your daughter giggle. You wish she wasn’t finding this amusing, but you know she can’t help it.
“Well who’s this cute girl, huh?” The man coos, tickling your daughter’s side.
“Her name is Noelle.” You huff, your mood quickly
shifting to do this stranger touching your daughter.
He lets out another chuckle, you wish you never had to hear it again. “Sounds like you’re quoting Teenage Dirtbag to me.”
You give him a pointed look, you’re really getting sick of his pestering. “That’s where I got it from.”
Abruptly, the crowd starts cheering madly. You look around and see Stacy's team celebrating briefly; they had just scored a goal.
You cheer and clap, grabbing Noelle’s chubby hands and making her raise her arms wildly while giggling with her.
“Y’know, I’ve been thinking. Maybe we could-” Before Brandon could finish his sentence, none other than Rafe Cameron comes stomping up the bleachers, huffing and puffing angrily.
He sits down and sighs, “God, I’m sorry babe. The line was so long! I swear I’m going grey right now.”
“And I missed the goddamn play!” Rafe exclaims. He looks over at you and immediately goes quiet once he sees those wide baby eyes that look at him curiously.
“Da?” Noelle mutters, reaching her tiny hands towards Rafe’s larger ones.
“Yeah. Da’s here babygirl, do you want your food? Huh sweet girl?”
Rafe hands you your food, setting his food aside so he can put Noelle in his lap. He begins to split half his hotdog in pieces for her.
You glance to the left, you notice Brandon looking like a fish out of water.
Rafe is the CEO of one of, if not the biggest business company around. And Brandon had just borderline harassed his wife, who was holding his child.
Brandon sneers at the two of you in silence while the game continues, nearly boiling at the fact that he couldn’t have you.
Your head is laying on Rafe’s shoulders, you’re rubbing circles on Noelle’s shoulder as she settles down.
“Everything alright babe?” Rafe asks, trying to peer down at your face.
You untuck your necklace with your wedding ring from your shirt, fiddling with it. “Yeah, now that you’re here Ray.”
There’s silence between the two of you for a few seconds.
“…What does that mean?”
You hesitate to answer, but you do regardless, “Nothing! It’s just uh..That guy next to me, was kinda like hassling me I guess.”
This makes Rafe straighten his back.
“He do somethin’ to you doll?” Rafe questions in a whisper. You know you have about 30 seconds to try and calm him down before he’s banned from every soccer game left in the season.
“No, okay? I’m fine, it’s cool. I need you to calm down Ray.”
Rafe’s nose is flaring, “What about Ellie? Did he touch her?”
You feel your throat closing up, your heart is damn near pounding out of your chest.
You don’t say anything to Rafe, but that look in your eyes tells him everything he needs to know.
You grab his bicep, trying to keep him grounded. Even though he’s changed, some parts of him haven’t.
Rafe speaks lowly in your ear, but not too much to frighten you in any way. “I’ll take care of it, okay? Don’t worry y’pretty little head about it.”
Rafe presses a firm kiss against your cheek, then presses a softer one to your lips.
After 30 more minutes, and 2 more goals, Stacy’s team wins.
You and Rafe cheer loudly, letting out “That’s our baby girl!”
You meet Stacy at the bottom of the bleachers, holding Noelle in your hand as the littlest claps her hands between Stacy’s face.
You’re too busy congratulating your daughter to notice Rafe pulling Brandon aside while his daughter, Valerie is off talking to her friends.
Rafe puts a firm hand on his shoulder, “Hey man.”
Brandon lets out a nervous laugh, “Hey there, Rafe Cameron, right?”
“Yeah, let’s keep this short. I better not see or hear you talking to my wife again, do you hear me? I don’t give a shit what happened.”
Rafe continues shortly, “And keep your fucking hands to yourself, if I find out you touched my either of my daughters again, I swear to God himself I’ll put you under.”
The two men are holding eye contact, one looks with confidence and borderline rage, while the other looks with fear.
Rafe walks down the bleachers, meeting you and your girls.
“You were amazing out there sweetheart!” Rafe smiles while pulling Stacy into a bear hug.
“Jesus dad, you’re crushing me!” Stacy laughs with a slight wheeze.
Rafe ruffles her hair and puts his arm around your neck.
“All good to go?”
You nod your head, and with that, the four of you begin to walk to Rafe’s parked car.
Rafe realizes that this isn’t the first time you’ve been hit on at a soccer game, or anywhere in fact. And this definitely won’t be the last.
Cause everybody’s in love with Stacy’s mom.
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Are you scared of me, Princess?
Jasper Hale x human!reader
Summary: The reader sees the scars on Jasper's arms, prompting him to tell her the truth.
Words: 1,646
Warnings: talk of murder, vampire stuff idk, scars, cursing
Author's note: God this is angsty. Someone get 8th-grade me in here right now because this is what she thought she was reading at her age.
Masterlist <3
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Jasper sat in the bed placed in his room, his mate resting her back against his chest. His arms were wrapped around her waist and his face found its way into her hair. Her hands were placed on top of his on her waist, relishing in the feeling of comfort he gave her.
They were a strange pair, the two. The bloodthirsty vampire fighting his instincts to feed and the helpless human girl who wouldn’t be able to fight him if she tried.
But she trusted him with her whole heart. It had been hard at first. She had to marinate in the knowledge of the existence of vampires, and he suffered the constant smell of her sweet scent, calling out to him every second.
It was so hard for him, even on a good day. Her smell of her blood always drew him in.
The only thing holding him back from draining her was the feeling he knew he wouldn’t fight the minute her body became lifeless: dread.
But now, they laid in each other’s arms in complete trust.
Her hand wandered up his forearm, stopping at the unevenness of his skin. She looked down, pulling his sleeve up briefly.
Bite marks and scratches laid all up and down his forearm. She didn’t want to know how far up his arm it went, thankful for the sleeve.
She felt him shift. He felt uncomfortable. Scared of her reaction. But above all else, he cared for her. She could practically feel his gift poking at her emotions, intertwining them with his. A sense of calmness fell over the two of them before words could form.
Her hand still laid against his arm gently, her thumb brushing one of the bites to comfort him in her own way.
She felt his head move away from hers, leaning back against the bed frame. She used this opportunity to turn in his grip, now facing him. Once there, she pulled his arm into her lap, her eyes inspecting the scars in front of her.
He simply watched. He couldn’t hide them, and he would never lie. Not to her. So, he simply sat there to let her ask him or draw her own conclusions.
She finally looked up, her eyes locking on his. She’s thankful of his gift, because otherwise, she may have been teary-eyed. “T….Tell me, Jasper?”
His eyes softened. God, she was so good to him. So perfect. So innocent and pure. Everything he knew he wasn’t.
Her blood would be so easy to take. The feeling of adrenaline would be worth the-
“It’s… a long story, Princess. I don’t think you wanna hear it.”
She was visibly hurt by his answer, her hand retreating from his. “Oh. I… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry… I just… just thought…”
He chuckles to himself, teasing her, “Thought what, Princess? You really wanna know?”
She nods, her eyes glossy, holding an unreadable expression.
He sighs. He wanted to hold off from telling her this. That was his plan. But now, she had ruined the perfect plan in his head. Not that he could be mad at her. His heart couldn’t do that.
He pulls his sleeve up his other arm, showing her the scarring. “D’you know much about the Civil War, Darlin’?”
She nods, her eyes never leaving his forearm.
He smiles, “Good girl. Knew you would.” He took a deep breath, not that he needed to, but it allowed him to collect himself and decide what to say. “I was turned during the Civil War. A woman named Maria convinced me to help her train a vampire army. I was foolish and naive. I thought she was doing the right thing.”
He looked up at her to gauge her reaction. She simply stared at the scars, her head low in thought. He took this as a sign to continue.
“You know.. I was, uh, a major, in the war?”
Her head perked up at that, her eyes meeting his. “A..a major?”
He smirked, “Yeah. Major Jasper Whitlock.” As he said so, she felt a wave of pride come from his body. She didn’t need Jasper’s gifts to sense it, for it had come so plain.
He continued, “I trained them myself. Her army, I mean. I know you don’t know much about us, but newborn vampires are more dangerous. More deadly. They’re stronger than most.” As he said this, she could feel his tone becoming sharper.
“Stronger than Emmett?”
He nods, “Yes, Princess. Much stronger. You stay away from a newborn.” It had meant to be advice, but it came out a demand. “They’re more deadly than you can imagine. I’ve watched them do…” his eyes look off in thought, “…unspeakable things…”
A small silence overtakes them before she breaks it. “And you trained them?”
His eyes quickly move back to hers, the amber color glowing, “Yes, ma’am.”
“How?”
“Not easily. They don’t take too well, as you can see,” he said, his head motioning forward at his arms. “I punished them, too. Killed them when they got out of hand or weren’t what we needed.”
He feared to look up at her, but he couldn’t resist. Her gaze was on the window. He didn’t often wish for a gift different than his, but at this moment, he wished he could read her mind. See what was going on in that lovely little human brain of hers. But he couldn’t. He sensed she wasn’t distressed. He had to see her eyes to be sure. Not for his gift’s sake, but for his own. His hand outstretched to grab her jaw gently, pulling it towards his own. “Are you scared of me?”
Her eyes catch his, their faces a foot apart. “…Sh…should I be, Jasper?”
He considers her question quickly with a nod, his voice low. “Really fucking scared.”
She blinks at his wording, her brain struggling to comprehend everything in front of her.
He wanted to joke, take the dark mood away, but he knew this was serious. “I killed before this,” he gestured to himself, “I killed during this…. I’ll probably have to kill sometime after this. I’ve murdered many with no remorse, their bodies laying at my feet. Innocent lives and murders, too. I overpowered the strongest vampires with ease, ending them mercilessly. My heart holds no mercy. So, I’ll ask again. Are you scared of me?”
She wasn’t sure what to think. She couldn’t put it into words. Was she scared? She supposed so. Any sane person would be. But she trusted him. She trusted him. She trusted him. “You… You won’t hurt me, Jasper.”
He wanted to laugh at her sweet response. How naive of his little lamb. She said it so sure of herself. Of him. She didn’t know of the constant, deep thirst of blood he fought back every time their eyes met. She didn’t know of the pain he felt when she parted from him. She didn’t know of the horrors he had endured. And most importantly, she would never understand the terrors he had caused.
“You don’t know that, Princess.”
She took a quick breath in at his response. Every reasonable thought she ever had was gone. She should run. She should hide. But she didn’t. She wouldn’t. Her body remained here, on the vampire’s bed, his hand gripping her jaw while staring at her like she was prey. Every reasonable thought was gone.
She reached her hand up to place on top of his on her jaw, flinching at the cold feeling of his skin on hers. “You won’t, Jasper.” She began to even sound confident.
He smiled at her, his sharp teeth peeking out. This girl believes in him that much. What a stupid girl. Too trusting. Too hopeful. Too pretty. Too good. Too perfect. He could absolutely ruin her. But he wouldn’t. “C’mon, Princess. Admit you’re a little afraid.” He needed to hear her say it.
Her hand gripped his, pushing it down her jaw lightly until it rested over her throat. His hand now wrapped around her neck, her hand lightly resting on his.
He was speechless at her touches. Her movements. Her willingness. Her loyalty to him. His eyes stare at his own hand, admiring the view in front of him. Her hopeful eyes staring into his while his hand rested above her only source of oxygen. It was intimate. It was scary. It was perfect. She was perfect.
His thumb brushed her throat lightly, feeling her heartbeat quicken at his touch. He could practically feel the blood running through her veins. And she trusted him still.
They sat there in silence for a while, simply admiring the other.
She was perfect. Too innocent for her own good, but so loyal and willing for him. Her pretty face was the perfect view for him. He could stare at it until the end of his days. And she trusted him with her life.
She trusted him with the one thing his body thirst to destroy. And he loved her all the more for it.
He was strong. Resilient. An open book for her to read at her leisure. Protective was a word she was familiar with. She felt like his arms were the only thing she needed to live in the world. She trusted him with her life.
His other arm moved up her body, his hand getting lost in the hair on the back of her head. He pushes her forward, capturing her lips in his.
The hand on her neck stayed. But it never twitched.
They pulled away from each other to let her catch her breath. Their faces were close as they tried to think of the right words to say.
“You’re not afraid of me.”
It wasn’t a question, it was a statement. She wasn’t afraid of him.
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Hi !!! Can I request something romantic between shy reader and spence? maybe he’s like trying to teacher her something and they’re alone? IDK WRITE WHATEVER U WANNA RIGHT ILL EAT IT UP REGARDLESS <3
Your stomach hurts and you need to pee, but you’re stuck. You’ve been trying to submit your virtual paperwork for the last two hours. Why have they made it this difficult? You’re beginning to wonder if you’re being hazed.
Spencer told you it was easy. Well, he’d put a cup of tea on your desk (for which you hadn’t asked but gratefully accepted), seen you were starting your paperwork, and said, “I’ll see you for lunch in half an hour?” with a knowing smile.
You’d smiled back. You want to be in the know with him, even if you’d needed a ten minute recovery period after he left to learn to breathe through your nose again.
But it became clear after half an hour you wouldn’t be taking lunch, let alone joining him. Nervous sweat dampens your hands and the back of your shirt, and your face burns with heat —why is the office scorching? You’re in hell.
You click another button, sure you’ve found the right process, but a yellow triangle appears with an exclamation mark inside. Function suppressed, it says.
“Oh, good,” Spencer says, approaching from behind, a coffee. “I thought you stood me up. You’re struggling with the system?”
“I wouldn’t say struggling.”
“You don’t need any help, then?”
“Please,” you say softly, worried someone else will hear you. You don’t want anyone in the team nor the unit to realise how inept you are. It’s bad enough that Spencer’s cottoned on. “I can’t get it to work.”
“I was kidding,” he says, smiling tentatively at you. “Let me get my chair.”
Spencer tortures you sitting beside you, knee to knee and arm over your arm as he guides your mouse to the right page, then the correct paperclip. His watch falls down his wrist and brushes your skin with each direction, spurring chills all over. “You’re pretty much done,” he says.
“I don’t know why I was so confused,” you say bashfully.
“Because it’s a confusing system.” He smells like warm vanilla. You wish you could ask him about it, but you’ve a job to talk this close to him.
“Thank you for helping.”
He clicks through the last part of your file to check for any missing paperclips before he sends it off. “You’re welcome.” Then, because he secretly hates you, he takes your arm into his hand with achingly careful fingers. “Are you cold?” He rubs at your goosebumps. He has really nice hands, with strong veins. He moves purposefully.
Another rush of goosebumps down your arm. “Are you okay?” he asks, his eyebrows tugged together worriedly.
“I’m just,” —mortified— “embarrassed about the paperwork. I didn’t know there would be this many online responsibilities involved, I would’ve looked them up.”
Spencer’s eyebrows rise as your sentence ends. You’d mangled ‘looked them up’, said it breathless as his hand curled around your fingers.
“Don’t worry about all of that. You can always ask me for help. Right? I sit right there.” He points to his desk. “Did you forget?”
Something about his tone suggests that he already knows you didn’t forget, but he takes your thank you gracefully, and continues pretending you’re cold rather than physically affected by his touch. He’s nice like that.
“Here, in case you’re still cold,” he says, too casual, draping his suit jacket over your shoulders.
Not that nice.
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Logan in a rut has me brain rotted. I’d love if you could write something about this. I think he would try and isolate himself not matter what but it gets to the point where he can’t hold back anymore and needs relief. Idk if he would be more possessive and rough or if he would end up whiny and desperate almost subby.
note: this is a younger Logan Howlett who ends up a bit subby. he would 100% beg the reader to help him because he would be too embarrassed and shy to just man up and dominate her (we have different thoughts of Logan almost every day).
we will be worrying more rut!logan once we get caught up with our college work. we wanna make bro nasty…
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Logan’s time has come. He hoped it wouldn’t show, but every day that passed, it gets worse. The first day, all he had to do was rub one out, but after the second, he knew he was fucked.
He couldn’t help himself. He fucked his pillow. The man was beyond fucked up that night. He had ripped his pillow open with his claws and buried his cock inside, moaning the girl's name like he’s never before.
Y/n and Logan had been friends for years. A little flirting here and there happens. They might even get a bit touchy but never have they sat and talked about what they were. Especially since the man was known for keeping his flirt up with Jean.
Logan wasn’t surprised when the only person he could think of was y/n. She was pretty, her body always sent a shock through his own, her eyes would have him lost in seconds, and she was the only one around here with common sense.
At times, he hated all those good things about her. Like now. He’s sitting across from her in the kitchen, watching her sip on her drink and watch YouTube on her phone.
All the innocent things she does, makes him so damn hard. He can’t help himself. “G-Goodnight,” Logan said as he got up to leave. He needed to rub one out again. Maybe he’d sneak into her room and cum on her sheets. He needed something that was close enough to her.
“Aw, I was gonna ask if you could walk and get some wood with me, but I’ll get it myself. Goodnight, Logan!” She smiled at the man before he turned the corner, needing to get out of there.
He hoped he could get himself to go upstairs without struggling. Without turning back around to beg Y/n, he couldn’t hold it after her thought of her saying she’d be getting wood tonight.
It’s been almost an hour, and Logan is sitting on the stairs, cock pulsing through his thick jeans. He swore his balls were blue already.
He almost got up to get this over with and grab y/n, pulling her somewhere to at least cum on her face, but he heard the lights cut off in the kitchen.
He peaked around the corner, seeing y/n walk down the hallway and out of the mansion to do her night walk for some wood.
“Fuck,” the man groaned, already thinking of how good he’ll be feeling once he gets his hands on her. He needed to touch her. It’s only been a few short days, but he can’t control it anymore.
The man stalked behind y/n, making sure she wouldn’t sense anything behind her as she walked through the woods with a huge bag to carry back a few dry sticks.
Logan shook his head at the sight of her headphones, knowing she couldn’t hear a thing around her. This was a safe place, but now that he was going through this feeling from hell, it wasn’t anymore. At least for her.
Y/n placed her bag down and took her headphones out before picking up thick and dry wood that she could use for the fire tomorrow night. The way she sang, only made the man want her more. He needed her now.
“Hey, y/n?” Logan spoke, making y/n jump from the unexpected presence of someone else. “Oh, god! Hey, Logan,” the girl smiled up at him as he walked towards her, looking down.
“I-I know this is kind of a weird time, but I need to ask you a question,” Logan said, feeling nervous now that she’s right here. “Yes, ask me anything,” she smiled as she shifted her body towards him.
“Fuck, I — Y/n, I’m going rough a rut,” the man blurted out. This was not a part of his plan. He was going to turn y/n around and shove his cock in her mouth before carrying her back to the mansion, but now he’s stuck.
“Oh — I-I don’t really know what that means, but I can still help you,” she said. “Y/n, it hurts,” the man spoke. His voice came off as a beg which made y/n feel sad for him, even though she had no idea what hurt.
“What is it, Lo? Tell me, and I’ll help you,” she went to get up, but Logan stepped towards her and placed a hand on her head, softly pushing her back down. “It hurts,” the man shifted her head just a little, making her realize his print was right in front of her face.
“Logan,” she said, loss of words at the sight of how hard his cock tried fighting through his jeans. “I-I don’t know what to do about that. Maybe take some pills. Cool it down?” She suggested, but he shook his head.
“Need you, y/n. I need you,” the man said low, needing her to touch him. “I-“ the girl cut herself off, taking a deep dive into her thoughts. The man sounded like he was in horrible pain. He was a friend, so this wouldn’t be bad, right?
“Okay, but I don’t know if it’ll help,” she said, not knowing that this would be more than enough. Y/n slowly reached up to unbuckle his belt. She could see his legs shaking a little from how nervous he was.
He had no idea what came over him. At first, he was going to get what he wanted. Use her like an animal, but now — Seeing her like this and willing to help him, made him feel better. She was going to take care of him.
“P-Please hurry,” the man begged as her hands slid down his clothes cock through his boxers after his shorts fell to his knees. “Did you cum?” Y/n asked, confused but the wet patch was only pre cum. A lot of pre cum.
“P-Please, y/n, fuck,” the man balled his fists, trying to keep himself from crumbling right then and there. He needed to leak in her mouth. No place else. Only her mouth.
“Okay, okay,” y/n worried as she finally pulled his cock out, and god, was he hurting. The veins that covered his cock, showed like crazy. His tip was sticky. His balls were stiff and ready to explode.
“Baby, please!” The man begged louder. Y/n quickly wrapped her lips around his cock and sunk down to take him all in. Well, as much as she could. He was very big.
“G-God,” the man breathed out as his head tilted back. “Oh my god, thank you. Thank you so fuckin’ much, baby,” Logan covered his face with his hands as his heart raised, feeling himself close.
“Oh, fuck, baby — yes,” the man moaned as she quickens her paste, slurping and coating his cock with her spit as she sucked a big roughly.
“Baby, please, let me cum. P-Please, I need to cum,” the man begged, wanting her to decide what he could do. Y/n nodded her head, not knowing what else to do, but she wanted him to cum. Have wanted to make him feel better.
“T-Thank you,” Logan moans loudly as his col twitched, spilling down the girl's throat. Y/n continued, sucking the man as his eyes crossed from the feeling of her emptying his sack.
“G-God,” he couldn’t keep himself together. She was so good at this. He wished he could have this every night before he went to bed.
“S-So good, y/n. So fuckin’ good,” the man let the woman know how great she was. Y/n’s glossy eyes looked up at him, feeling herself grow wet, but she knew she could deal with it herself.
“Get up, baby. Needa takes you back to my room,” Logan pulled y/n to her feet. Confused, the young lady allowed him to throw her over his shoulders.
“I can smell you, and I don’t want to leave you leaking for the night,” Logan said as he walked back towards the mansion. “I’ll be fine, Logan. I-I need to head to bed,” y/n spoke, a bit nervous about this all.
She thought that after she did him this small favor, that would be it. He had other plans. He wasn’t letting her go.
“You’ll sleep with me tonight. Tomorrow we’ll move your stuff to my room so you can sleep there every night,” the man thought way further than she thought.
“I don’t know if we can do that. We’ll have to tell Charles about our shared room, meaning everyone has to know, and I don’t know-“ she tried saying, but he cut her off.
“Baby, please. I’m fine with everyone knowing about what happened tonight. I can’t ignore how much I need you anymore,” Logan admitted.
“What if this happened again? What if I couldn’t walk to you from how hard I was? You do this to me, baby, so I need your help — I need you,”
Y/n sighed to herself then accepted what he wanted. Logan gave the girl a small peck on her side as he continued walking towards the mansion.
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