My headcanon is that before he made volt, he also had glowing hair, and where the wires are cut off on his in game hair is where the electricity used to start :)
↳ ❝ (NASTY.) Possessive sex with a little bit of a breeding kink and edging perhaps 😇🫶 - @mothcabinet ❞
: ̗̀➛ Logan plays the part of the possessive boyfriend whilst attending a party with you.
trigger warnings: ̗̀➛anal fingering, anal sex, swearing, praise kink, mild choking, breeding kink, possessive sex, jealous sex, edging, orgasm denial, teasing, a little bit of spanking, sex in public bathrooms
↳ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT
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Logan watched all too carefully as you so brazenly and openly flirted with Marc; all smiles and compliments and asking to feel his muscles. Marc would smile and agree, seemingly lapping up the attention with not a single care in the world.
It was obvious to everyone in attendance that Marc was very much keen on you and had no idea about who you had arrived with in the slightest - and even if he was aware, he probably would not have cared anyway.
You, on the other hand, were much aware of the brown eyes watching your every single move. But that was clearly not enough of a deterrent, and it was getting clearer to Logan that it was also very much on purpose.
You were trying to get a rise out of him and he was keenly aware as to why. He was not used to playing the role of the possessive boyfriend, but he would do so willingly.
So he trudged up behind you, putting his hand in your back pocket so that he could easily pull you into his side, and he glared at Marc.
“Are you aware you’re talkin’ to my partner, bub?” The words were all but growled out between gritted teeth, and Logan did not see it as worth the time to even try being the slightest bit polite.
You smiled, leaning into his touch as a soft laugh escaped your throat. “Logan, don’t be rude - Marc was just telling me about some cardio he does.”
He scoffed, his eyes not leaving Marc. “Bullshit.”
Marc took a step back as he apologised; he dealt with enough as Moon Knight, and starting a fight with Wolverine seemed to be far from a good decision. Especially because he knew he wouldn’t win it.
He excused himself after a moment, leaving Logan to drag you to the toilets; he made sure they were empty before locking the main door and pushing you against it. You eagerly caught him in a kiss, tugging at his hair as he slipped his tongue between your lips.
A soft moan of his name left you and he eagerly welcomed it with a sharp growl of yours. You pulled away for air, taking his wrist and guiding his hand down.
“What? You want me to touch you there?” He hissed out, breath heavy and words hoarse.
You nodded, panting heavily. “Please.”
“I don’t think I should,” he mused. “I mean, you were all but throwing yourself at that Moon Knight guy.”
“Logan, I want you,” you huffed out, almost whining. “I need you. Only you, please.”
Slowly, he snuck his hand under the waistband of your trousers, and gently palmed at you; it was not difficult for him to feel your arousal, but he did pull away with a sharp sigh - almost as if the softer side of himself regretted not giving into you.
An idea came to his mind, though, and he grinned slyly as he brought himself close enough to whisper it in your ear.
“So, why don’t we play a little game?”
“Please, Logan,” you breathed out. Your breath was unsteady, and your words were more than ragged. “Touch me, fuck me - anything. Please. Anything.”
“Beg all you want,” he told you. “But I won’t let you cum until I say so, is that clear?”
You nodded, trying to get your breath back. “Clear.”
“Good,” Logan growled softly. “And what’d you do if I go too far or your change your mind?”
“Tap your shoulder or hand twice or say wolf,” you replied, “now please, please touch me.”
“Turn around and strip,” he ordered.
Praising you softly when you did as he asked.
He guided you over to the sink and gently bent you over it before he searched for his pockets and found the small bottle of lube he had hoped to save for the car ride home; you begged a little more, so he quickly slicked up his fingers and slipped one into your ass.
Desperate, you were swift to push against him as you ground your hips and pleaded for more - but Logan was not going to give in so easily. He dug his fingers into the scruff of your neck, using his finger to probe and stroke so slowly that it was pure torture.
You let out a whine, bucking your hips as short and pleading begs left your mouth. Logan kept at it, bringing you almost to tears before he pushed the next finger in; this time, he was not gentle. Ramming them in and out so fast that your body jerked with every movement.
The palm of his hand smacked against you, making you howl out loud and lewd begs of lustful greed the more his fingers pistoned in and out of your ass.
You braced yourself against the sink as your vision became blurry and something wet rolled down your cheeks. Your legs shook, and when Logan noticed, he bent over and put his arm around you gently.
He didn’t slow down, though, his fingers still hammering into your ass as he felt you clench around them.
He stopped, and broke away from you.
He glanced at you through the mirror on the wall just above the sink. “Are you so desperate to cum you’re cryin’?”
You nodded as you sniffled. “I need it so bad - please, Logan… please…”
Logan tutted softly, gently patting your backside. “You’ll cum when I say so. Understood?”
“Yes,” you agreed with a soft huff. He could be so fucking unfair when he wanted to be.
But you would not have had it any other way, either. Still, Logan lined himself up behind you and quickly dropped his trousers and boxers, putting his hands firmly on your shoulders so you could easily tap them if it was ever too much for you or you changed your mind.
“You ready?” He asked gruffly.
“Yes,” you told him, sucking in a harsh breath in preparation.
As quickly as he possibly could, Logan pushed into you, stretching your ass as he bottomed out but leaving you no time to adjust; every thrust was a sharp and quick movement, enough to make you move in tandem, gripping the sink as you moaned loudly, worried your voice might break or give out.
It was easy for Logan’s cock to fill you, and he was more than eager to fuck you as hard and fast as he could. A glaringly obvious sign of who you really belonged to. Who you were going home with… but fuck, it felt so good that you could not help ut to beg for him to keep going, to never stop.
You pushed back against him, trying to keep up; desperation overtaking you as you did your best to keep up. Needing him, and wanting nothing but him and only him.
“Could Marc fuck you like this?” He growled out, his voice ragged as he moved one hand to sit at the back of your neck, keeping your head down.
You shook your head, knowing that your voice was nowhere near as loud as it should have been. “No!”
“No?” Logan chuckled. “Who fucks you best, baby?”
“You!” You whimpered out, clenching around him already. So riled up and so fucking ready to take as much of him as you could that you could hardly think of anything else. “Only you!”
“Yeah?” He huffed out. “And who do you belong to?”
“You!” You all but howled. “You! Only you! I belong to you, Logan!”
“Good,” he praised softly, slowing down his thrusts for just a moment before picking them back up again. “You belong to me and only me, don’t ya, baby?”
Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as you did your best to nod. “Yes! Yes, only you!”
Logan grunted out, his grip on your shoulder and neck becoming tighter and bound to leave marks in the morning; it wasn’t unusual, though. Whenever you and Logan had rough sex, there were always marks leftover - his healed in seconds, yours took days.
You fucking loved it every time, though, always showing off and admiring the marks that he gave you until they were too faded for anyone to see.
A few more grunts, and Logan was starting to get sloppy; his thrusts became a mix between fast and slow, hard and gentle. His grip didn’t falter, getting tighter as he kept pounding into you; trying to remain level and stable.
But he stilled for a moment, gritting his teeth and grunting out your name as he came inside your ass; panting heavily as he fucked it into you as much as he could. Desperate, you began to push back against him as you panted his name under your breath.
“Logan, please,” you whimpered out, weak as you did your best to hold yourself back. “Please, I want to cum.”
“Not yet, baby,” he growled, letting his cum dribble out between your cheeks and his cock. “Soon, I promise.”
You let out another yelp of his name as he kept fucking his cum into your ass; grunting and growling about how he was going to breed you and fill you with his cum until you couldn’t take any more of him.
You were greedy, needing nothing else but him and wanting nothing more than to let him fill you until you couldn’t take anything else. You needed it.
You almost couldn’t stomach it anymore; the way he stopped for a moment right when you were on the edge, refusing to let you cum time and time again. It was so fucking much, you adored every second even though you were aching and needy.
So fucking achy.
Logan took his hand from your neck, pulling back for a moment before giving your ass a firm, hard smack. He leaned back over, gently biting the edge of your ear, he dared to make a move to whisper to you.
“When you’re ready, baby,” he murmured. “I want you to cum for me.”
He kept fucking you, grunting harshly when your ass clenched around him; pushing back as you huffed and panted. Your entire body started to shake, eyes rolling into the back of your head, your tongue fell from your mouth, drool lingering and slowly dripping down.
Logan kept it up, right until you were completely spent; he pulled out and took a step back, quick to pull his trousers back up and zip them; he was quick to turn you around and run his tongue across yours as he grinned.
“You were so fucking good,” he praised softly, stroking your cheek and humming softly. “You feelin’ okay?”
You put your hands on his chest as you let out a shaky sigh; taking a few moments to catch your breath and use him to steady yourself. “I am. I’m okay…”
“Come on,” Logan hummed, guiding you to stand against the stalls. “I’ll clean you up an’ we can go back to the party, yeah?”
You presented yourself to him, letting out a shaky breath. “What about round two?”
He smiled, licking his lips as he thought about it. “I’ll think about it, I promise.”
༺═──────────────────────────────═༻
while I have your attention, I would like to direct it towards Hani; Hani is currently based in Belgium after, thankfully, managing to escape the genocide - however, Hani's family are still in Northern Gaza and need funds to get to Egypt. Hani's asking for a total of 65,000 Euros, and as of today (17/08/24) has raised 54,114 of that. So if you could, please consider donating whatever you can to save this family's life. Please, consider donating.
every time i see the tag “poolverine” i’m reminded of the quote from the first deadpool movie:
“I know right? You're probably thinking, ‘Whose balls did I have to fondle to get my very own movie’? I can't tell you his name, but it rhymes with Pulverine.”
Winston forever forced to be stuck, waiting for Will to return. Sitting on that porch with the hope that Will will come back home….no matter where he ends up, he will always go back home and wait…..wait for someone who’s never coming back……
I’m so unwell about Will and his dogs…Wills dogs save me….save me Wills dogs….
Saw a post talking about if there was a kiss scene for hannigram it wouldn’t really matter because a simple kiss couldn’t even begin to scratch the surface of how intimate they are together and I think about that a lot
Thoughts on the fact that Soda trusts Emizel so much that he literally drank Emizels blood with like zero hesitation and was fully willing to do it because he judy knows that Emizel will always have his back (I am so obsessed with these two the brainrot is insane)
oh you KNOW i’m going crazy insane about it dude i feel like i’ve said it somewhere before but like the fact that soda would probably walk into a blood bond with emizel not even because of it’s nature but just because of how much he fully and implicitly trusts emizel is so. they make me abnormal
"A man who knows to pair rabbit with a Beaujolais." The stranger spoke
Ghost instantly tenses up. Acutely aware of the Scot's eyes watching him, studying him even.
"I know I don't seem like the type..."
"No, you do."
And the man smiled at him. It wasn't one of those fake smiles that somehow conveys “If I smile maybe he won’t hurt me.”
It was a real, genuine smile. This total stranger had managed to break down all the walls he desperately put up, with a simple smile. Simon Riley knew that he was absolutely and utterly fucked.
Oh look yet another Soapghost apocalypse fic shocked emoji
(No I didn’t start this in early January when I was also brain rotting on TLOU that’s insanneeeeee)
————————————————————————
September 18th, 2003
“A virus. Researchers are saying it’s due to cordyceps. A fungus that attacks the brain. Makes the victims lose every part of themselves. It’s fucked up man…”
Ghost closes his laptop and rubs his eyes.
He tries not to panic. This will all blow over in a few weeks. Something like that isn’t fucking possible. It’s just the media exaggerating a story from some small town in the Middle East. He’s protected here. The closest town is 80 kilometers. His property is surrounded by an electric fence. Hell, he even set up cameras so he could constantly watch over the place. (Price’s solution to get him to stop calling him every time he swear he saw someone in the woods)
He takes a moment and lets himself breathe. He attempts to do those stupid breathing exercises Roach taught him.
“Everything will be fine.” He decides and doesn’t give it another thought.
November 28th, 2003
[rewrite] Ghost sat in his bunker. The only source of light being the shitty computer monitor in front of him. The scene in front of him is anything but pretty.
Innocent people getting loaded up like pigs to the slaughter.
“Idiots.” He thinks bitterly. He’s not stupid. He knows those people are walking towards their own deaths. Hell, he’s ex-military. He knows how these guys think.
Eliminate the threat before it's even considered one.
It’s the military’s sick way of trying to grasp control. He hates the way he understands. How he knows how much innocent blood is on his hands. It makes him sick of how willing these “people” are to kill children.
He eventually tears his eyes away from the scene in front of him. The feelings of the past rearing its ugly head. Remembering all the things that we’re supposed to be dead along with Simon Riley.
“Christ, I need a drink.”
And with that, he decides to end the day with his only source of warmth, an old bottle of (Kentucky) Bourbon.
(Which was supposed to be opened when Tommy turned 21…but he can’t fathom remembering that right now…)
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