You can definitely ignore this little thingy if you feel uncomfortable buttttt,,,,,,, do you think Steven would like the idea of being bred? Now, breeding is cool and all I love anything that has to do with it but what if it was the opposite? Like, instead of yn it was character? (Doesn't have to be amab specifically lol cuz fake cum is a thing) but like it specifically thinking of Steven having a breeding kink, both ways not just once ʚ(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )ɞ sorry if this is not your usual type of requests or food for thought haha 😞
Okay this has been sitting in my box for a while but I finally got an idea for it asfjdlndlnd
Sorry if it's like, all over the place and not as detailed as my other stuff :'> I might come in and edit it in the morning when I'm more awake!
A Little Strange
Steven Grant x Fem! Reader
TW/CW: NSFW, Smut, Flat out smut, pegging, creampie (sorta), spanking(?), Steven is a crybaby, punishment, Sub!Steven, Top!Reader Reader has some hair that is long enough to be pushed back
MINORS DNI I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME
The request your lovely, mousey, nerdy little boyfriend made of you was one you were not expecting.
Sure, you had pegged him before, but the most recent time, as you helped him ride out his orgasm, you heard him whimper and sob into the pillow; "Breed me, love--"
The poor thing was so embarrassed about it all, but after a little sit down with him, he'd explained that he had fantasized about it, imagined you with a real cock; pumping him full, letting it drip down his thighs as you pulled out...
So, you started looking into online forums, Discord servers for adult toys that gave you advice as well as some stores that did custom designed dildos with cum tubes in them, as well as prep and cleanup.
You showed the messages to Steven, showing him there was no shame in what he was thinking about and you noticed how much lighter he was.
So much so that you and Steven started looking at adult toy shops online together for the "perfect" toy to play out his fantasy.
Steven wasn't yet brave enough to enter actual shops so, that task fell to you, Steven completely and utterly trusting whatever decision you made.
However, one night, while scrolling through various product lines...
You found it.
The perfect one. Lifelike, even complete with soft foreskin--matching your very own skin tone to give Steven a bit more reality in imagining that you were going to be the one to fuck him full of cum, not some obnoxiously-colored hunk of rubber.
You bought some warming lube, the fake cum, a new harness to accommodate the tube as well as a vibrator you could insert into yourself. After all, if he was the only one getting off, it wasn't much fun if you didn't, too...
You loved Steven for that. Your pleasure was always his, too.
You looked at him questioningly as you adjusted the harness, "If you're not sure about this..."
Steven had practically been drooling, watching you slip the silicone dick into place. Hell, it looked so life-like he had to blink for a moment to remind himself it was just a toy.
Not that he would have minded the real thing, per se...
He nodded, a little too enthusiastically; making his wispy raven curls bounce back down in front of his forehead, "Y-Yeah, love... I'm good. So--so good. Um--yes. Comfortable, I mean. That is, I'm--"
"Steven." You laugh softly, taking his cheeks in your hands, noticing how he leaned in on sheer instinct alone; as if your comfort was the one thing he needed most in the world.
"Baby, sloooooow down."
You boop your nose to his, making him laugh in return, an obvious red hue to his cheeks. His tongue gets his lips before he speaks, "Right, sorry. Excited, is all."
"I know." You say gently, brushing your fingers through his hair to push some of his curls back. You kissed his cheek and leaned in just a bit more, your lips brushing the shell of his ear as your hand pressed firmly against the bulge in his sweatpants.
"How do you want my cock, Steven? How do you want me to fuck you?"
The way he shudders visibly makes your toes want to curl and your pussy clench around the toy seated comfortably within you. It was off... for the moment.
"I--ah--a-all fours. From behind." He breathes, pressing his cheek into yours.
"Good boy." You purred, grazing your fingers along his jawline so you could tip his gaze upwards to meet yours.
"What about you, sweetheart?" He asked quietly.
"Oh, me?" You giggled, turning away, noticing how his gaze immediately fell to the way the dildo flopped as you sauntered your hips over to your shared dresser. You decided to spare him a quip, and grabbed a small remote.
You walked back over to him and placed the device in your hand.
And Steven, being the wonderfully curious goober that he is... pushing the button at the top, turning the vibrator on at full force.
The unexpected sensation made you squeak and squeeze your legs together; you hands cradling your midsection as your face erupted in a vibrant flush.
"W-wait!" You whined as you doubled over.
"Oh, bloody--I'm sorry!" He floundered, frantically trying to turn it off--accidentially hitting several buttons in the process so you suddenly were barraged with decreases in frequency, pulses, and even warmth--until he finally managed to succeed.
You panted as the sensations finally subsided, a sticky wet heat soaking the crotch of the harness, leaking out around the vibrator tucked snugly within you.
"Take off your pants and get on your knees." You said, your mouth twitching into a smirk.
"You are in so much trouble for that!"
"I'm s-sorry--" Steven hiccuped as you withdrew your hips oh-so slowly, your eyes watching how the strap-on sunk back in welcomingly past his tight rim of muscles.
His ass cheeks were red and swollen from the spanking you had given him--you didn't actually start fucking him with it until he was drooling and crying into the pillow he had tucked against his chest, his cock a weeping mess into the blankets below.
You didn't even let him touch himself.
You pressed the toy in as deep as it would go, pressing your hips down hard until you were grinding against his prostate; Steven whining and babbling the most filthy things as he chewed his pillow, begging for you to just move, to go just a little faster.
"You want me to go faster, baby?" You coo'd, pulling back just to slam home once again, grinding in deep.
"Ye-eeeeh-eeessss!" He cried.
You huffed, pushing back some of your hair that had gotten stuck to your sweaty forehead as you smoothed your hand up the curve of his arched spine, your fingers easily swiping through the rivulets of perspiration that flowed down his skin.
"Shh, shh, I'll give you what you want..." You murmured, leaning in to pepper soft kisses across his trembling shoulder.
He had been behaving since his "punishment"... You figured he deserved a bit of a reward.
So, you pried his tight-fisted fingers open and slipped the controller to your vibrator into his sweaty grasp.
"I want you to cum. And I want you to make sure I do at the same time. If you forget and don't let me cum..." You curled your fingers under his chin, scraping his messy stubble with your nails slightly, making his Adam's apple bomb as he swallowed the lump sum of saliva that had been gathering in his mouth.
"I--I will! Or--I w-won't? I..."
"Just make sure I do, baby. Can you do that for me?" You murmured against his ear, taking the lobe between your teeth and biting down softly.
"I--y-yes..." Steven sobbed.
"Yes..?" You hummed as you pulled back.
"Yes ma'am." He gasped as he felt the dildo inch its way out of his hole.
"Good boy." You praised him, your teeth snagging your lower lip as you feel him turn the vibrator inside of you on at a nice, comfortable setting.
Comfortable, but not what you wanted.
You thrust into him in a nice, deep, steady rhythm, groaning as you watch his hole clench and try to drag you deeper.
You almost wished this was your real cock, just so you could feel how his walls clenched and gripped--desperately trying to urge you along and deeper inside of him.
A moan was torn from your throat; as you thrusted in and out of Steven, the toy would nudge at a delicious angle to just barely catch at your g-spot.
"Steven, higher..." You panted, planting one foot down on the bed as you increased your pace.
You probably should have given him a bit more time to process your request before you began to fuck him harder, the poor man. He was a babbling mess of drool and tears, and you were relentless--pounding into his ass with vigor and energy he barely had in reserves.
His thumb shakily found it, and your breath punches from your lungs when it is turned to the highest setting on a steady pulse to almost match your rolling hips.
"F-fuck!" You groaned, gripping the soft fat on his hips for more leverage to fuck him harder, the vibrator inside of you moving around in your gummy walls, massaging you wonderfully from within, driving your impending climax closer as the seam of the leather harness you wore ground against your clit with every movement.
"'m gonna c-cum, love." Steven moaned loudly, his head lifting from the pillow.
"God--ahh!--are you?" You huffed back, your eyes rolling a little as the vibrator pulses harshly within you.
Maybe you'd chosen your toys a little too well... Neither of you were going to last at this rate. Pity. And here, you wanted to play with him just a bit longer.
Oh, well... Maybe next time you could cockwarm him; slowly fill him up with fake cum until he was begging to ride your cock. Maybe fill if with flavored lube and have him give you a blowjob? So many possibilities...
You reached down and grabbed the pump from your harness--your hand lightly squeezing it to let the fake cum solution work its way up the shaft as you moaned for Steven.
You hear a furious slide of skin as you realize he'd slipped his free hand below, stroking his flushed, fat shaft as you fucked him from behind. He'd get a punishment for breaking that rule.
He hiccuped, a broken and shattered moan coming from his soft and sweet lips was like music to your ears; making your heart skip a beat in your chest.
Later. He'd get one later.
"J-just a little more, baby--you can hold on long enough for me, can't you?" You sighed, swallowing hard to try and keep your voice level as your orgasm threatened to wash through you.
Your only reply was a choked-out whimper, your name leaving his mouth like a prayer as he sniffled; his hand on his dick slowing just a fraction to allow your budding climax to swell and bloom.
"Love, please." Steven pleaded, his hand dropping the remote to your toy--leaving it on the setting that already had your toes curling--as he gripped at the sheets blindly, drooling into the pillow once again.
"You want me to fill you up, Steven?" You moaned (perhaps a little too theatrically) your hips moving in a sharp blur; chasing every backwards jerk of his hips as much as every graze of that seam against your swollen clit.
"Want me to breed you, baby boy?"
"F-fuck--yes!" He almost bellowed
"Mmmm--" You panted, leaning down to press your chest against his back, his skin almost searing against the flesh of your breasts, "Make me cum, baby."
Steven continued to whimper and sob, arching and rolling his hips back to meet your thrusts, the jostling and tugging of the strap making those flames of pleasure lick up your spine as the vibrator pulsed and buzzed inside of you; the heat pooling in your belly battering down the walls of your self restraint.
Steven gasped and twitched, his hand going still for a moment on his dick as the first thick rope of his cum shot from the tip, coating the sheets and his hand as he picked it back up again.
You kept pumping inside of him--the sight and sound of him coming undone making your muscles go taut and flex as your own orgasm washed over you, his sweet voice muttering your name again and again as his cum began to soak into the fabric below him.
You barely had enough focus to remember the pump in your hand. You thrust once, twice, and on the third and final thrust your hand squeezed a final time, your "cum" shooting from your cock and flowing into him.
And, oh, the sounds leaving his mouth were downright sinful. They surely would have blocked any person from reaching the gates of heaven had they been uttered by a holy man.
Well... maybe holy in a different kind of religion...
As your hearts stilled, you slowly pulled out of him and watched as the white fluid dripped from his twitching hole and rolled away, onto your back as you panted for sweet oxygen--the bedroom felt so hot and humid. The smell of sweat and sex soaked into the very molecules of air between you.
You rolled onto your side as Steven collapsed, your fingers shakily reaching for the remote to turn off your vibrator as your body shuddered to a stop, the aftershocks of your orgasm finally washing away like the tide.
"You alive?" You huffed at him, reaching out to comb your fingers through his soaking wet curls.
He turned his face to you, then, a blissed-out smile on his face as he blinked his adorable little doe-eyes at you.
"I... ah.... better than okay." He mumbled, reaching out to grasp your hand in his. "You?"
"I think I found a new favorite hobby..." You grinned at him as you wiped sweat from your brow.
"Oh... I'm right properly fucked, aren't I?" He joked tiredly.
You leaned over and kissed his temple, where the vein throbbed beneath your lips.
(any and all background photos I use aren't mine, they're from pinterest. I only did character name editing)
These are ongoing masterlists, as I am adding to them constantly.
Posts marked with (*) an asterisk are +18 and feature mature themes, posts marked with a * are most popular, and posts marked with a * are my favourites.
•
FULL FICS
C'est Ça L'Amour
during a harmless night of trying to take the edge off, steven’s faced with the moment he’s been desperately trying to avoid. but as you spin around to old french music, he realizes he can’t help himself.
It's Worth It, It's Divine * * *
when hathor said she’d help give you a push, you weren’t expecting to have marc, khonshu’s avatar, moaning underneath you by the end of the night. but you certainly aren’t complaining.
Cherry * *
marc made you a promise during your most recent encounter. one that he intends to keep, no matter where you two are. (can be read as part two to ‘it’s worth it, it’s divine’)
In Your Eyes *
marc sees the world in your eyes. too bad he doesn’t realize that you see the exact same thing in his.
Knight… Mr. Knight * * *
in an aim to be more adventurous, steven suggests the two of you have sex in an alleyway. he’s completely out of his element, but at least you love the suit.
Reflejo *
your boyfriend refuses to tell you why he got a mirror installed into the ceiling of his limo. instead, he’d much rather show you.
MINI SERIES
part one | part two | part three *
in which both you and marc have convinced yourselves you’ve moved on. only for fate to have other plans.
So, funny story from work tonight. We have TVs in the kennel and when I work the night shift, I like to watch PBS. Tonight just as I was about to head out for the night, while Amanpour and Company was on, they started talking about The Sign in Sidney Brustein's Window. Because my boss lives on the property and she knew I was getting ready to leave, I texted her:
Me: Oscar Isaac is on TV. I'll leave in a bit.
Her: Hahahaha there's a towel in the bathroom for your drool!
She knows me too well. LOL
Christiane Amanpour speaks to Hollywood actor Oscar Isaac and producer and playwright Jeremy O. Harris as they bring the late Lorraine Hansb
Summary: Antagonizing Nathan Bateman when he comes into your store. (~1.6k)
Contents: no smut, language, annoying Nathan on purpose, flirting
-----
Nathan Bateman doesn’t go shopping. But he’s running through the city one afternoon, getting some cardio in while he’s visiting the company HQ for some meetings. He spots your sporting goods store and impulsively decides to stop in for a few things.
A little out of breath and sweaty, he walks in.
“Good afternoon, how can I help you?” You smile at him from behind the counter.
He looks around, filling the space with his too-loud, too-bossy voice. “I’ve ordered from here before. You carry those hand wraps I like. The only ones that fucking breathe. And that protein powder that doesn’t taste like ass.”
Your eyes widen slightly at his language and his demeanor. You keep it professional and friendly. But this guy grates at you in a major way.
“It’s nice to see a returning customer.” You smile at him. “I can look you up in our system if you like, see if we have your usual order in stock.”
He glances around, sees your morning lull, the quiet store. “Fine. Nathan Bateman.”
He looks at you, then looks again. He sizes you up and down as he walks up to stand on the other side of the counter.
Of course you recognize the name. You hadn’t realized he was so sexy though. The beard and shaved head. The wet line of sweat down his shirt. Those dark, hooded eyes that seem to see everything. All muscles and a shitty attitude.
He lifts up the hem of his sleeveless shirt to wipe his face and you just about die, seeing the dark line of hair that travels from his belly button down into the elastic of his shorts.
But he’s such an insufferable prick.
“And can you spell that for me, sir?” You ask.
He does, between gritted teeth.
“Okay, looking you up now. Looks like we’re missing some information for your profile,” you say, looking at his perfectly complete and accurate customer account. “The algorithm can recommend you some things, if you’d let me ask you a few questions. It has a 89% success rate.”
“95.” Nathan says with narrowed eyes.
“Well, I’ve noticed that whoever sold us the system overestimated their abilities a little bit.” You smile sunnily as you insult his product.
Even with his huge beard, you can see his jaw tighten. “Just ask your questions.”
He’s obviously not used to speaking to human beings and was born with more brains than manners.
The more you talk to him, the more he pays attention to you. His brown eyes are laser focused on your face, trying to figure out where to slot you into his hierarchy of information.
You look only at your computer screen, completely ignoring that he seems to get hotter and hotter the more agitated he gets.
“It looks like you’ve ordered hiking clothing before. May I ask about your inseam?” You ask in your customer-service-voice. “Some men have different preferences depending on certain personal factors. Would you say you like your pants a little tighter, or do you need a little less room in the crotch?”
“What?” He leans his hands down on the counter, his head tilting toward you.
You type a few things on the computer, swallowing a laugh. “We just want you to be comfortable, sir.”
“I wear a lot of gym shorts so I’m used to more space. I mean, I need more space for my junk.” He looks at you like he can’t believe you’re not even paying attention to him. “It’s a good dick, okay?”
You smile noncommittally. “Okay, good not great.”
“No. It’s great. Did I say good? I meant great.”
You suck in a breath between your teeth. “Sorry. I already put ‘good’ on your customer account, Mr. Bartman.”
He looks on the verge of a hissy fit, which is delightful.
“I don’t own this company, but know that when I do, you're fired,” he says.
“Unfortunately we’re not for sale right now. But I’d love to show you some hiking poles that you’re welcome to sit on.”
His eyebrows raise up, along with one corner of his mouth. His face goes from pissed-off to almost pleasant. More than pleasant. He looks almost happy. His hostile eyes turn to dark, liquid warmth and sharp interest.
“You’ve been fucking with me,” he says.
You nod. “Absolutely.”
He taps the counter, smiling with his whole mouth now. “Wow.”
“Thank you,” you dip your head to him respectfully.
“So what did I do to make you hate me so much?” He asks, his tone teasing and testing.
You shrug. “You came in here all loud and rude. I know you’re the richest person on the planet or whatever, but I hate entitled douchebags.”
“Entitled douchebag, huh?” He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “And I’m not just the richest person on Earth. I’m also the smartest.”
You give him a look. “I don’t know. You’re pretty gullible.”
He sighs and gives you a patient look, which you recognize as bullshit. “I think you threw me off my game a little.”
You roll your eyes. “Don’t try to back pedal and lie. That’s even worse than the entitlement.”
He runs a hand over his shaved head. “Fucking christ you’re tough. I’m trying to pay you a compliment, sweetheart.” He licks his lips. “You want to have lunch?”
“I have lunch at 12:30. Alone. In the break room in the back.” You smile at him. “And then I have five more hours of work.”
“If I buy this fucking company will you have lunch with me?”
“It’s my family’s store. I wouldn’t sell it to you for a billion dollars.”
Nathan uses his hands to push off from the counter. He hikes up his gym shorts and looks around. “Fine. I’ll buy all of this.” He points his finger around the store. “Just, all of it. Whatever you have out here and whatever’s in the back.”
“That’s not really the slam dunk you think it is. It would actually be a huge pain in the ass for me if you cleared out all of our inventory in one go.”
Hands on his hips, Nathan studies you. “You’re really trying to say no to me?”
“Trying? Succeeding.” Your heart thumps a little against your ribcage.
He takes his phone out of his pocket. It’s about twice the size of yours.
He glances at you. “I’m forcing a firmware update on every single piece of electronic equipment in here. It’s going to take four and a half hours.”
“Probably six, knowing the way your updates go.”
He glares at you.
You check your computer. The other computer. All locked in an updating screen.
“Seems like a perfect opportunity for manual inventory,” you say, not wanting to be boxed in by him.
Nathan grins. “I have two perfectly good hands. Let me help.”
You know he doesn't mean inventory. So, you ignore him.
“Customers aren’t allowed in the back,” you say, grabbing your phone and walking out from behind the counter. “Flip the sign to closed on your way out, Mr. Bateman.”
You walk toward the Employees Only door and can’t help but look back. Nathan hasn’t moved. He has a cocky look on his face, a hint of a smile.
“You know what I like about you? You’re not my type," he says.
You turn back around to face him completely. “I insulted you, so now you’re trying to insult me?”
“Oh, you’re insulted by that? Me saying you’re not my type?” He pushes up his glasses.
“No,” you say, annoyed that he’s wrestling the upper hand away from you. “I assume your type is like, a supermodel, or whatever.”
“Supermodels need love too,” Nathan says plainly. “But usually, I’m physically attracted to someone first. I act on it. And if they’re worth my time, I get to know them. You’re different.”
“I know. No one would pay me to model a bikini.”
He lets out a short sigh. “Stop being fucking stubborn.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Bateman, but we don’t allow swearing at our employees. I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” Even you can hear that your tone is more teasing now, more of a joke. That you might not want him to go.
“I’d like to get to know you,” Nathan says. He waits, but you don’t say anything. He raises his eyebrows at you, looking for a response.
You shrug. “Thank you. I guess.”
Nathan rubs his eyes with his hand, knocking his glasses crooked on his face. “Are we gonna do this all day, honey? Can we just skip to the part where you give in a little? Like, a fucking millimeter? Give me something here.”
“You’re kind of adorable when you’re frustrated,” you say.
Nathan smiles, fixes his glasses to sit back on the bridge of his nose. “You’re annoying. But I like that.”
You look around the empty store, then at Nathan. “We can hang out during my lunch break. Do you want half a turkey sandwich?”
He looks disgusted. “No. Let me order sushi.”
“No. But I’ll split my bag of gummy bears with you.”
He rubs his mouth. “Deal.”
You open the employee door and Nathan follows you into the back room.
“Out of curiosity,” you say, “you said you usually do the physical stuff, then the getting to know someone part. So, if we’re doing the last part first, then when does the first part happen?”
Nathan smiles. “Whenever you want, sweetheart.”
“That’s brave of you. You know I’m going to make you wait, just to piss you off.”
Nathan runs his hands up and down your arms. “I look forward to the challenge. Actually, I look forward to all of it.”
He sounds sincere. It makes your stomach flip.
His condescension, his directness, those you can deal with. They’re fun.
But you have no chance against him if he starts being earnest and caring. Perish the thought.
Nathan looks at you, his brown eyes smiling, as if he knows exactly what you’re thinking.
You wrap your arms around his waist, holding on loosely. “You’re on, Bateman. I look forward to the challenge too.”
Nathan Bateman Masterlist :: main masterlist :: Join My Fic Taglist
Working out the kinks (Nathan Bateman x fem!reader)
Nathan has a habit of getting you all hot and bothered; emphasis on bothered. That is, until, you make a mess of his latest experiment… and the emphasis very quickly shifts to hot.
Genre / tropes: sex pollen fiasco; smut; idiots to lovers; there is plot on the side of your porn.
A/n: About time I wrote for Nathan again – hope I’m not too rusty. This is also my first sex pollen fic so a bit nervous about it! It took me ages to write so any feedback would be appreciated. (I have lost perspective and idek if this is hot, exactly? Sex pollen is inherently sorta silly so I went a little in that direction, I guess? And then I got more than a little bit soft. Anyway, see what you think!).
P.s the line “Are you understanding or are you just standing?” isn’t mine. It’s from Elvira’s Arrowed (on her Vimeo) but I heard it and it screamed Nathan at me so here we are.
Rating: VERY EXPLICIT. STRICTLY 18+. MINORS: DO NOT READ OR INTERACT.
Warnings: I have to warn for dubcon elements since they’re under the influence of sex pollen. They do mutually want each other, they don’t have sex until they are pollen free, but they do engage in other stuff (mainly self-pleasuring) while affected. Explicit sexual thoughts / talk; masturbation (m and f); robot-fucking (oral / vaginal); (non-con then con) voyeurism; verbal sexual instructions m to f (?); orgasm / overstimulation; cum; kissing; cock-warming which turns to consensual unprotected sex; Nathan is (verbally) rude to the sex-bot but IT IS NOT SENTIENT; one TINY reference to anal; far too much set-up; hella pseudo-science.
Word count: Long. 18.9k (it’s broken into sections so you could read it in chunks if you like!).
GIF: @damerondjarin
Stage One: Arousal
You hate this.
You detest when your work requires you to be in the lab with Nathan, in such close proximity. You despise especially when he decides to join you fresh from his morning workout, the scent of his sweat and the sight of it gleaming on his taut, cultivated muscles deeply offensive to you; so much so, that a huff of annoyance escapes you when he simply walks into the room, obnoxiously plonking his smoothie on your desk.
Well… You only hate it of course, because you love it so damn much.
Post-workout, pre-shower, early morning, smoothie sipping, vest-wearing, smug-fucker Nathan is both your favourite and most hated variety.
“I think that’s a personal record,” Nathan says gruffly in lieu of a greeting. “Irritated before I’ve even opened my mouth this morning, honey?”
That’s honey (derogatory), just to be clear.
He is now sawing a towel around the back of his neck, one end in each hand, meaning -unfortunately- that you get an uninterrupted view of his sheening chest and his pumped biceps. Even of those tufts of dark underarm hair, dampened with his musk.
Like he couldn’t have done this out on the deck? Typical Nathan. For a man who insists he doesn’t crave attention, he sure does enjoy a damn audience – and today, like every damn day, you’re it.
Nathan flashes a dark, shit-eating grin as your eyes involuntarily rove over his torso. Your blood boils at the (extra) smugness which blooms on his face when he realises you like what you see. “Huh. Usually it’s my mouth, specifically, that gets you all hot and bothered.” You seethe air out through your nose. “Seems I may have to reconfigure my conclusions.”
You roll your eyes dramatically as you sip on your coffee, over-labouring your annoyance. “Exactly. Emphasis on bothered, Bateman.”
He emits a low whistle, as he comes to perch one perfectly sculpted butt cheek on the end of your desk. “Shit. Kitten’s catty this morning.”
That’s kitten (makes you throb between your legs), just to be clear.
“Today’s going to be a fucking hoot,” he says, evidently chock-full of both kiwis and sarcasm this morning, as he takes an obnoxious sip on his smoothie through a metal straw.
You scowl. His mouth twitches with cruel glee beneath his raven beard. The bastard. If you hate this, you’re sure he loves it. Christ - for someone who hates people, he sure does enjoy having one around to wind up.
Unfortunately, he’s not wrong though. You wish he was. But every part of him truly does get you hot and bothered. Emphasis on hot.
Nathan Bateman X GN!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? • ko-fi • request info •
Summary: It's time Nathan gave you some answers.
A/N: Look, this is just me being silly and having a giggle.
Warnings: overuse of italics, swearing, not beta read, typos, talk of aliens and alien fucking, kisses, please let me know if I've missed a warning.
Word Count: 978
“So when are you gonna tell me about the aliens?” You lean back in your chair, your heels on the table, your laptop perched precariously on your thighs.
Nathan gives you a look over the top of his glasses, glancing up from the circuit board he was soldering. He eyes your comic slippers for a second, seemingly giving the frog designs an individual glare.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” He sighs.
“The aliens.”
“The what?”
“Aliens, UFOs? I’ll look up a dictionary definition for you if you’ve never heard the word before.” You tease and he scowls.
“I know what the word means dumbass.”
“You sure don’t seem like you do, or is this part of a test?”
He sighs. “What?”
“A test? You know, keeping stuff top secret? Deep throat? Cigarette smoking man?”
He rolls his eyes and goes back to his work, “You watch too much X-Files.” He grumbles.
“Yeah, but you got the reference.”
He smiles in spite of himself.
“So, when are you gonna tell me about them.” You put your laptop on the side, your feet on the floor as you roll your chair closer to him.
He doesn’t look up. “I say this with all the energy I have: what the fuck?”
“Blue Book.” You lean closer.
He pauses soldering, an unimpressed look crossing his face. But you know he loves the attention really.
“Aliens. What’s the deal?”
“Are you high?”
You snort.
“Because if you are,” he gives you another glare, “I want some.”
“Project Blue Book, it’s a code name by the American air force about UFOs.”
He gives you a blank look.
“Are you seriously telling me you didn’t know?” You pause, “you’re such a sci-fi nerd, I highly doubt it.”
He puts the soldering iron down. “Did they breach my copyright? Have I got to send a cease and desist?” He sounds sincere, but you know Nathan. What he sounds like doesn’t mean anything.
“It was like a term in the fifties, I doubt you’d be able to sue.”
He shrugs, “I could try.”
You groan and flop back into your chair, “Are you for real? You really didn’t know? I was so sure you got some secret alien communications.” You pout playfully, “I was hoping for some nonsense about your androids really being made so you could send them into space to talk with extra terrestrials.”
He frowns, “And why would I send androids?”
“Because they wouldn’t age when you gotta travel like, 50 million light years or something.”
“What’s the point in contacting aliens if I don’t get to meet them and fuck them?”
“Nathan!” You snort, despite trying to keep a straight face.
“What?” He shrugs again.
You tut.
“If there’s aliens I’m gonna fuck them.”
You laugh, “What if they’re like Aliens aliens, trying to lay their eggs in you?”
“Sounds hot.” He grins.
You giggle and shake your head.
“Plus, the tongue is like another mouth, which I think,” he swivels around in his chair, giving you his now full, undivided attention. “Would give an amazing blow job and-”
“She’d bite your dick off.”
“Nah, nah, nah,” he shakes his head, “my dick’s too hard for that.”
You burst out laughing, “What?”
“What I just said.”
“Nathan-”
“It’s rock hard at all times, could deflect bullets, it has in fact.”
“It has?” You can’t get over the silly expression he’s pulling. It’s stubble, a little glimmer in his eyes and a smile at his lips, but it’s so very endearing.
“Sure, it’s saved my life, saved other people’s lives. Just,” he mimics hitting a baseball, “smacks the bullets right outta here. In fact, it’s super dangerous, because when it deflects them it actually makes the bullets go faster in whatever directly they’re hit, so,” he breathes in deeply, like this was a serious issue, “could hurt bystanders.”
“Are you having fun?” You laugh, resting your elbow on his work table, your chin on your hand.
He nods.
“Fucking nerd.” You tease, grinning.
“Says you.”
“Says me?”
“You’re the one talking about UFO conspiracies.”
“Okay first,” you sit up, wriggling a little in your seat as you raise a finger, about to start on a shpeal. “Project Blue Book wasn’t a conspiracy, it really happened. I was just being a shit about the aliens bit, UFOs don’t mean aliens, they mean-”
He leans forward quickly and kisses you.
The action takes you by surprise, how his lips feel against yours, how his beard brushes against you. He tastes a little of that stupid fennel toothpaste he uses, the one that he proclaims is the best for your gums but tastes like an overload of aniseed and salt. The one that you tried once and never again. The one that you tease him for using at any given opportunity.
But now you lean closer, your hand on his cheek as you lick into his mouth, trying to swallow down any essence of the taste.
He groans a little as your tongue strokes his, his hum is pleasant as it vibrates into you. He slides his hand to your waist, pulling your chair even closer to him. The heat from his palm permeates into you, soothing your muscles, making you ease even further into his touch.
When he pulls back after a long moment, he sighs. It’s the smallest, sweetest sound through his nose, a low grumble of contentment in his chest. He presses his forehead against yours for a second.
You swallow and he opens his eyes at the sound, moving back a fraction.
“If I’d known that would shut you up, I would have done it ages ago.” He grins.
You mock gasp, playfully pretending to hit him on the shoulder. “You’re the worst.”
He giggles, scooting his chair closer to you whenever you move away, “Don’t worry, I’ll kiss it better.”
18+
Rating: Explicit
Category: F/M
Warnings: No Warnings Apply
Fandom: Moon Knight (TV 2022)
Relationships: Steven Grant | Jake Lockley/Reader
Additional Tags: Vaginal Fingering (that's it, that's the fic lol)
Word count: ~840
"Right there," you breathed, grabbing Steven's hand between your legs.
He groaned into your neck.
You blinked your eyes open, staring at the open window adjacent to his bed. The AC had broken down, and London was boiling itself alive.
You'd been sweating bullets when Steven had suddenly kissed you, had started something you weren't sure you could finish in this heat . . . but you'd thrown all caution to the wind when he'd whimpered against your feverish skin.
Steven slid his fingers between your wet folds, the tips of his fingers teasing your entrance. You dug your nails into his wrist and used your other hand to fist his dark curls. They were damp with sweat, you both were, and the sheets were getting ruined, but neither of you cared.
A tightness rolled through your pelvis, making your lashes flutter shut. You enjoyed the sensation, and Steven hummed, pleased with himself. And then he ground his palm against your clit.
"Yes." Your toes curled in the sheets reflexively. A shiver worked its way through your body. The hand between your and Steven's bodies found its way to his bare chest -- where it slipped against his sweat-slick skin.
"Jake wants a turn," Steven said against your cheek. He pushed his fingertips into your entrance, and you groaned low in your throat.
"Sure," you said, nodding.
Steven paused, letting Jake front, and then his fingers curled inside you at a leisurely pace. But there was a silent strength, force, behind them. They found their way deep inside you.
You choked out something nonsensical and then whimpered. Thin and needy in the simmering summer air.
"That's it," Jake rasped under your jaw, his tongue licking up your sweat.
You clenched around his fingers and gasped at every pump of them. If anything, his voice would send you over the edge. It was unique, rough but tentative, lilting, contemplative -- a deadly wolf in sheep's clothing.
"Jake."
He quickened his pace, and suddenly, all you could focus on were the sounds of your arousal and his fingers. He knelt over you, placing a knee between your thighs and resting his forearm by your shoulder. You released his wrist and used both hands to hold his face, pulling him down to your lips.
You felt him smirk before nipping at your lips and soothing those bites with his tongue. "(Y/n)." He exhaled your name, the syllables sticking to the roof of his mouth and disappearing across your tongue.
He cupped his hand under the back of your head, and you moved one hand back between your legs. You found your clit and moaned, twitching against Jake and breathing hard, the whole room spinning with how hot it was.
He angled his fingers and thrust them harder, faster. You whined desperately and sucked in air, air that was so hot, again and again.
"Ja--. . ." Something tingled deep inside you, cutting you off. You moaned sharply and rubbed yourself harder.
"Mírame." Look at me. The hold on the back of your neck tightened.
You forced your eyes open as your legs started closing around Jake's hand. His thigh got in the way, but it didn't matter. You clamped around the well-muscled limb, gasping, writhing, your pussy twitching around his fingers stroking your g-spot. You watched his arm work, his forearm muscles flexing, his shoulder glistening with sweat.
When you finally looked at Jake's face, his eyes were glazed over with arousal and concentration, fixed entirely on you, your face -- your reactions. His mouth parted the longer he looked at you, and you saw more than heard him hiss through a slew of curses.
Everything below your neck tightened until it felt like you couldn't breathe, and then you came with his name on your lips.
Your pussy fluttered around his fingers, pushing them out for a second before he simply thrust them back in, letting you ride out the rest of your orgasm. Your legs convulsed, no longer yours. Your hands spasmed, your fingers growing rigid as raw pleasure bled through every inch of you.
A dull roaring swept through you, and when you came back down, you took a deep, much-needed breath. You moaned louder, Jake's fingers still thrusting inside you, his palm grinding against your clit, taking over for you.
"Oh fuck . . ." Your eyes rolled back, and your neck strained. "Jake . . . Jake . . . Fuck!" You couldn't tell when you'd finished coming and when you were about to again.
Your whole body arched, your head rolling back, and you fisted the sheets. This time you wailed, and you were sure the whole-ass city could hear you with the window open.
Jake let you down slowly and then withdrew his fingers from your still-throbbing heat.
Your chest heaved with ragged, desperate breaths. You made yourself look at Jake when he licked his fingers, something he always did after wringing an orgasm out of you like it was nothing.
"Couldn't resist," he said. The right side of his mouth curled up, and it was so boyish and charged that it made you breathless all over again.
pairing: Logan Howlett x Female Mutant!Reader
rating: Explicit (MINORS DNI; 18+)
word count: 7.1K
summary: Logan ate part of your sandwich, so you stole his cigars. Things turn out differently from what you were expecting.
warnings: fluff and smut, teasing, slight predator/prey trope, banter, making out, dirty talk, oral (f and m receiving), vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, squirting, soft!dom Logan
Author's Note: My first Logan fic! X-Men used to be my world and the fact it is making a comeback has rejuvenated me. Also, I was picturing Logan from the first three trilogies but DOFP!Logan also crossed my mind so :)
Please read my pinned post before following me! Minors and ageless blogs will be blocked as this blog’s content is NSFW.
[AO3 link]
It was getting close to evening, everyone doing their own thing to unwind after a long day of classes and teaching. You had planned to do the same thing, planning to grab a quick bite in the kitchen before getting ready to relax in your room. You were whipping up a quick and easy sandwich, assembling it onto a plate before moving it to the island in the middle of the kitchen. You went to get a soda from the cupboard, only for your skin to raise as you sense something is about to happen: a certain someone was about to come take your sandwich.
“If you take one bite out of my sandwich Logan, I will kick your ass.”
You turn to see him, eyes wide along with his mouth, about to chomp into your dinner. He closes his mouth, only for him to keep the sandwich in his hands and an “innocent” smile on his face.
“Oh, you mean this sandwich?”
You shut the cupboard door, walking over to him with a stern, playful look. You know he is messing with you. That has been the dynamic of your relationship with him. Ever since he decided to stay here at the school and join the X-Men, you two have grown closer and closer, enjoying each other’s company over anyone else. It didn’t matter what either of you did. You both thrived in the presence of one another.
But something that has become common practice as of late was playful in nature. You both have always teased, but it has recently ramped up. If one of you started it, the other would find a way to end it before starting again. It was the push and pull between the two of you that you loved, and it has only made you long for him. You want to believe he feels the same, but even your mutation of precognition can’t fully confirm that.
“Yes, that is my sandwich. I worked very hard on it. I'll have you know.” You are standing in front of him now, having to look up at him slightly as you wait for his next move.
“I’m sure you did. It looks delicious.” He says, but rather than looking at the food, he is looking right at you. Cheeky bastard.
“Y-yeah, which is why I am asking you to put it down so I may enjoy it.”
“I don’t know. I think I wanna have a taste first.”
His hazel eyes are staring you down, almost begging for you to make a move. In reality, you really didn’t care if he ate it. You could easily make another and enjoy dinner with him. But you know that isn’t what he is doing right now. He is playing with you, wanting to rile you up. Well, it takes two to play that game.
“That sandwich is very precious to me. I’d think before you act.”
“Oh yeah?” He smirks, bringing his face closer to yours. “What are you going to do about it?”
“I’ll take something precious of yours.”
He chuckles, turning his face to the sandwich. “I’d like to see you try, sweetheart.”
He takes a huge bite out of your sandwich, his eyes closing as he chews. You purse your lips, watching him savor your meal with gusto. You know he is overexaggerating to truly get at you, but little does he know you have a trick up your sleeve.
“Enjoying my meal?”
He turns back to you, swallowing before licking his lips. “Very much. I may have to take another bite.”
You get up in his space, settling onto your tippy toes so your face is by his ear. You let your breath waft against his skin, causing a shiver to shake his core. You can tell he is anticipating what you will do, always highly enjoying your responses to his antics. Oh, he is so in for it.
“That’s okay. You can have it.” You let your pointer finger trace his collarbone that is very much on display from his white, fitted tank. “And you want to know why that is, Logan?”
He takes a deep breath, very apparent that your actions are doing something to him. His left hand lets go of the sandwich to settle on your hip, squeezing the flesh slightly to ground himself. It is actions like that that make you believe you do something to him. Like you drive him just as insane as he does to you. You bring your left hand to his head, pulling him down so you can really get into his ear.
“That’s because I know where you keep your special cigars from Cuba, and I am going to take them.”
You couldn’t have run fast enough. You are already shooting for the stairs, taking two steps at a time as you speed to his room. You knew it had taken him a second to realize what had happened because by the time you got to his floor, you heard him yelling your name.
You burst into his room, locking it quickly. It was only to buy some time, for you knew he had a key. You were giggling as you went to his bookcase, plucking out the blue, hardcover history book. You open it, and smile as you see the unopened cigars there in the deep hole where text used to be. Just as you close the book, you hear heavy footsteps reach the door and a jingle of keys.
You panic, needing to find a way out before he opens the door. You could run around him, but you needed a head start. You could hide and wait for him to leave but you knew he’d sniff you out. There was only one option left, and that was to go out his bedroom window. You hear the key enter the lock, and with a quickness you didn’t think you had, you unlocked his window and flung it open. Just as the door busted open, you crawled out. You grasped onto the ivy that clung to the school’s exterior and began to climb down.
“Oh, when I get my hands on you, you are in for it!”
You look up to see Logan’s head popping out the window. He has a scowl on his face, but you could see the wild look in his eyes. You knew he was enjoying this, for he loves the chase.
“This is for taking my sandwich!” You yell, and continue making your descent.
You hear the window close, which makes you go faster, knowing he is rushing down those stairs to meet you at the bottom. You could sense that he would go to the front door, so once your feet touch the grassy floor you run to the back door. Opening it quickly, you determine your next move. He is probably at the front, ready to intercept you, giving you the opportunity to hide somewhere.
You rush to the hallway where many of the classes are held. You run into the first classroom you see, its door already open. You see the large oak desk at the back of the classroom, and quietly walk up to it. It has a space for leg room, so with haste you crawl in it, pulling the chair in carefully to not make any sound.
Your heart was racing, adrenaline thrashing as you hid. You try to steady your breath, trying to keep quiet. The atmosphere has become eerie, the silence defying as you try to keep it that way. You try to listen for any other sounds over your pounding heart, when another wave of cognition hits you. You can see it clearly, where he finds you under the desk, hands on either side to block you in. You know you need to move on, so you go to move the chair, but you suddenly halt when you hear his voice boom nearby.
“Where is she?”
You cover your mouth, trying to hold in your breathing as well as the gasp that almost shot from your mouth. His voice was coated in gravel, and absolutely primal. Even from afar, it was clear he was worked up, and it made you embarrassingly wet.
You hear footsteps enter the hallway, heavy boots against the shiny wooden floor. At first, you think you may have a way out, hearing him pass the room you were in, but you aren’t so lucky because you hear him stop. You grip onto the book and your mouth, even though you know it will do absolutely nothing. You know he senses you, and it is confirmed when you hear footsteps enter the room. You hear him inhale deeply, exhaling with sigh only to turn into a deep rumble.
“I know you are here.” He is slow in taking his steps, and each step gets closer and closer to your hiding place.
He sniffs deeply again, growling this time around like he was a wild animal. “No point in denying it. I could smell you the second I walked into the hall.”
You know he will find you, and he will block you in. So you decide to take a risk before he closes in on you. You push the chair out far enough to crawl out, before standing up behind the desk. You put your hands up with the book in your left one, trying to show off a sign of surrender.
“You have nowhere to go, dollface. No point in trying’ to run for I’ll snatch you up real quick.”
“You must really want your cigars back to block me in like this.”
He steps even closer, with him now standing right in reach of the book. He could easily grab it and take it, for he is much stronger than you. But he doesn’t make a move, staying glued to his new spot. You don’t know what’s running through his head, his eyes trained on you. It isn’t until he places his hands onto the desk that you take a step back and drop your hands.
“You’re wrong.”
You raise a brow, not sure what he is getting at. “What do you mean?”
He smirks, leaning his body over the desk. “It isn’t the cigars I’m after. Not anymore.”
Your heart is in overdrive. You know the answer, it is becoming obvious. But you ask anyway. “Then what are you after, Lo?”
“I think you know the answer. Now it is a matter of will you let me take what’s mine.”
You want to give in. You are becoming more aroused by the second, but you are starting to really enjoy the chase. Seeing how much it gets him going, to see this side of him, only makes you want to push him more. You want to see what he will do, especially when he gets his hands on you.
You walk around the desk, book of cigars still in hand, getting closer to him until you are toe to toe with him. “What’s the fun in surrendering?”
He quickly blocks you in, the desk pressed against your back. He has the most seductive, but feral grin upon his lips, like he thinks he has won his prize. His head leans down to yours, forehead against forehead, before he whispers his next sentence against your lips.
“The fun is in what follows.”
His lips are on yours, desperate and needy. You can’t help the moan that leaves your throat, mind going hazy as his lips devour. You have craved him for so long, you want this to last forever. However, you cannot give into him like this. You will not make this easy for him.
One of your hands goes to the hem of his tank, fingers lingering before going under. He feels so solid, the coarse hairs on his tummy spread thick as you go to his left side. You can feel him shudder over you, and you try to hold back the smirk that wants to curve onto your lips. You move your fingers sporadically over the left side of his ribcage, causing him to jump back. This gives you the chance to run like hell.
“Hey! That’s unfair!” You hear him yell and it makes you giggle profusely. You must thank Jean later for letting you in on that little secret; that the broody, grumpy man with the metal bones was insanely ticklish. You wish you could turn to see his full reaction, but you are too determined.
You can hear him running right behind you, and you have never been more aroused. You shouldn’t feel so turned on by Logan chasing you around, but the thrill of the chase was seeping into your loins and you were addicted.
More people had shown up around the school, meeting with friends to study or hang out for the evening. You were dodging people left and right, and everyone looked perplexed as they saw Logan charging his way towards you. Many of them probably assumed it had to do with the book you were holding, and while they would have been originally right, they are no longer even close.
You don’t have time to hide again, not with him so close behind. You make it back to the stairs, hauling ass as you try to make it to your room. You can hear him right behind you, breathing heavily and grunting with each step. Your room is at the end of the hall, and you are basically flying with how fast you are running. The second you reach the door, you swing it open and throw yourself in before slamming it. You had gotten it shut, mentally pumping your fist in victory, but by the time you went to turn the lock, it was too late. The door flies open, sending you back a couple feet back as Logan stands at the door's entrance.
“I have you right where I want you. No more running.”
If looks could kill, you’d be ash. He enters your room, closing the door behind him with his eyes staying on you. He takes one step forward, with him now hovering over your smaller form. The way he is looking at you makes your knees faint, for you felt you could hear what he was revealing with his stare.
“I still know your weakness, Logan.” You smirk, holding the book up to your face to dodge any attack he was planning. It is pointless, you know, but it is the best defense you’ve got.
“Do you now?” He walks towards you, in step with you as you go backwards. The back of your knees hit the edge of your bed, telling you that you truly have nowhere else to go. He is right on you, grinning now that he has the upper hand.
“I’m afraid that book won’t save you from me.” He snatches the book, tossing it to the side of the bed.
You are in for it. You don’t know what he is planning, and the element of surprise has overcome you. However, with the way he is looking at you, you guarantee that what is about to happen will be just as exhilarating as when he was hunting you down.
“What do you plan to do with me, hm?” You let your fingertips walk along his chest, dancing all the way down to his side like you did earlier.
He is quick to grab your hand, bending down to lift you up in his arm before tossing you onto the bed, following swiftly as he pins both hands above your head.
“Don’t even think about it. I know you all too well.” He growls through his teeth. “As for what I plan on doing, what’s the fun in telling when I can just show you. Would you like that?”
You simply nod, breathless at how he is handling you. However, that wasn’t good enough for him, as he takes hold of your wrists in one hand so his other one can grip your chin.
“I wanna hear you say it, pretty girl.”
You huff, getting frustrated already that he is dragging this out. With your legs still free, you wrap them around his hips, your heels digging into his back causing him to grunt. Your lips are practically on his, faint contact making you antsy. “Show me what you’ve been wanting to do with me.”
Your lips are squashed by his instantly, hunger and desperation clear. His hands go to your thighs, grabbing at the flesh. With your hands free, they go straight to his hair, gripping and tugging on it which causes him to moan hotly into your mouth.
His hands travel up to the hem of your blouse, pushing the fabric up past your stomach before his hands go under. You moan at the contrast, rough hands, that have been through so much running along your unmarred body. He swallows what you give him, groaning happily at the effects he was causing.
You are in heaven. You never thought you would be here like this with Logan. You never thought you would be under him at his complete mercy. It makes a shiver travel down your spine, traveling right to your core that is a heated mess because of the man before you. To be with the man you have pined for is riveting, and you could cry that he seems to return those feelings.
You don’t know what triggers your mutation, but it is sudden. Your vision goes blurry, a strong aura surrounding you. It is overwhelming, a whimper bubbling from your throat as you see what is about to happen. Logan releases your lips with a grunt, looking at you intensely as you start to shake. You feel his rough hands cup your soft cheeks, stroking them gently.
Your cheeks feel hot, your vision turning you into a horny mess. Your hands grip onto Logan’s chest trying to ground yourself to reality. It’s too much. Your visions rarely last long for they are just snippets of future events, but this was different. It was as if you were in a trance, and could feel everything he was doing to you. You don’t know if it is your heightened emotions, especially with him right on you. All you knew is that pleasure was present, and you were starting to fall apart.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” You can hear his demeanor change, worry laced in his tone.
“Fuck,” you couldn’t help but moan, unable to control yourself. “I can feel everything, Logan.”
There is a pause, hands still touching your face. A few beats later, he lets his right hand go down, only to stop at your thigh squeezing tightly.
“Tell me what you see, baby.”
The rumble in his voice intensifies everything, causing you to grip onto him tighter. “Oh God please don’t make me say it out loud.”
You try to look away, but his left hand shifts so it is grabbing your chin. He forces your head back up, bringing his face down to yours like he had in the classroom. His breath fans over your lips, taking in the way they move as sounds leave them.
“I’m fucking you, aren’t I? Making you lose yourself on my cock? Is that what you are seeing?”
You can barely talk, too enthralled in your vision. You grab the hand that is on your thigh and bring it to the top of your black pants. Logan gets the idea and angles it so he can slide his hand into them. His fingers brush over the fabric, feeling the damp spot that has formed drastically. You hear him curse under his breath, the vibrations hitting your lips as they brush against one another without full pressure.
“Oh sweetheart, you are so wet.” He murmurs, pulling his hand out to bring it up to his nose, inhaling deeply before releasing a sound so feral that you could sob. “And you smell so fucking good.”
You can’t help but nod, not knowing how to respond. All you know is that you need him. Need him to take you on your bed and do whatever he wants to you. You’ll take anything he is willing to give you, for all you want is for him to make himself known to you.
His hand had gone back down to your crotch, cupping your pussy through the material. “Does she want more attention?”
“Logan, please do something.” You choke, your mind steadily coming back to reality, but still not fully letting go. You start to grind down on his palm, desperate for anything he will give you, but he removes his hand, going to the back of your head to grip tightly.
Damn him!
“I know she deserves something, but do you? Do you deserve me after getting me so worked up like that?”
“Logan, I am begging.” You cry out in frustration, your nails digging into his chest causing him to groan lowly. “I want you. God, I’ve always wanted you so please take what’s yours!”
He is back on you, kissing you till the air in your lungs dissipates. He starts to kiss away from your swollen lips, kissing down to your neck. He nips at your pulse point, going up to your ear to give it a light lick before going back down. With every kiss, he takes a deep breath in, which only makes him get more aggressive. Soft kisses turn to an open mouth lather to nips that could have easily broken the skin.
“I don’t think you know what your scent does to me. It draws me in every time.” He bites down particularly hard at your collar bone, and you wouldn’t be surprised if blood had come to the surface.
His hands come back up to the front of your blouse, carefully unbuttoning the garment before revealing your breasts that are almost spilling out of your bra. His hands mold over the cups, squeezing hard and slow as he makes his way to your sternum.
He is being so gentle with you, a complete 180 from how you thought this was going to go. He was so rough with you in your head, fucking you until you couldn’t even say a word. This side of him was endearing, but you crave more from him.
“For someone so feral for me, you sure are taking your time.”
He bites the top of your left breast, making you gasp at the sudden pain. “I don’t think you are ready for that side of me, dollface.”
Your right hand goes to his head, taking a handful of his hair and yanking his head up. You know he wants to absolutely ravish you, and if it’s some convincing he needs, some convincing he is going to get.
“When I said to take what’s yours, I meant it. I want you to make me beg until I’m dumb, so fucking do it.”
“Fine, but don’t say I didn’t warn you, Princess.”
His hands go under your top from the back, unclipping your bra before letting them resurface. He starts to yank your top off from the shoulders, only to smack your thigh that causes a light sting.
“Arch that back for me.”
You do as he says, allowing him to take the rest of your top off along with your bra. He flings them both across the room, only to do the same with his tank. You’ve seen his upper body plenty of times, as there would be instances in which he disregards it for a training session. But this? This was very different. It’s a different atmosphere, and rather than everyone getting an eye full of his muscular, hairy body, it is now for your eyes only.
He’s looking down at you, pupils flared as he takes you in. You shiver as his palms stroke your tummy, slowly going up until they encompass your breasts. Your nipples pebble from the rough texture of his skin, and you can see it excites him. So much so that he takes the opportunity to take your nipples between his fingers and pulls them gently with a pinch. Your back bows off the mattress, adoring the pain he is providing, and let out a mewl as he lets go to run his thumbs over the tender peaks.
“You sound so good,” Logan murmurs. “I need to hear more.”
His right arm goes under your back to keep you up, holding you there as his mouth goes to your left breast. He takes your nipple into his mouth, sucking with his eyes still on you. Your cheeks flush, head tilting to the side to avoid looking at him. It’s too much. It’s too fucking much.
Whimpers slip from your mouth, his treatment of your breasts making you want to rub your thighs together to soothe the ache, but he keeps your legs open. He eventually does the same to your other breast, working to match the work he left on your other nipple: hard, and tainted red.
He lets up, sitting on his knees as he unbuttons your pants, hands sliding the material down your legs in earnest. He tosses your heels off before stripping away your bottoms, and he hums as he admires the black, lacy thong you adorn.
“Fuck,” he snaps the elastic, eyes entranced. “You sure you didn’t see this coming earlier? Wearing something sexy like this?”
“They work better with my pants.” You huff, his fingers lightly running along your covered slit.
“Hmm, no wonder your ass looked so good today.” He grins. “But this pussy? I could play with her all day.”
He lowers himself, sliding off the bed only to bring you with him, your body gliding across the comforter with ease. He clutches onto your thighs, letting your legs rest in the crook of his elbows. He keeps his hold tight, bringing his lips down to kiss and suck on your thighs. You gasp at the aggressiveness, swearing you will see dark purple marks on you later. You moan at the idea, as it feels like he is finally claiming you; like are his to mark, to claim, to fuck, to love.
He makes his way to your center, sniffing deeply before releasing a feral growl. He lets the tip of his tongue lightly drag from the bottom to the top of your heat, still fully covered by the damned thong. He flicks at your clit, a ghost of a touch that has you bucking your hips. And he draws back every single time. His self-control is impressive but frustrating all the same.
He starts to suck on it through the material, creating a bigger wet spot with his spit. The more he pushed his tongue against your folds, the more the material would rub just right against you. It made you clench, panting at how much he is teasing you. He pulls away, blowing on your sensitive spot which only makes you whine.
“Awe what is it?” He chuckles, the vibrations barely hitting where you need him. “You want my tongue to play with you?”
His hand lets go of your thigh, fingers tracing the fabric before pulling it to the side. “Lucky for you, I love to play.”
He goes right in, mouth over your bud as he consumes your very being. Your hands shoot to his hair, not prepared for the onslaught of pleasure he is delivering. The swirls he is landing on his target is mind numbing, a tangible pressure that makes you want to curl in on yourself.
“Fuck, sweetheart,” he groans, the sound vibrating right on your clit. It makes you buck your hips up, but his left arm presses you down to keep you secure.
“I know you want more, but you are going to have to be patient. I’m not done tasting this sweet pussy. Fuck, you are so sweet.”
You feel one of his fingers near your hole, circling it teasingly before pushing in. His tongue is back on your nerves, mouthing covering it to add slight suction. Even with his big fingers, it’s not nearly enough.
“Logan, please add another.” You say, emphasizing as you clench down on his single digit.
He sucks a little harder, ripping a yelp from your throat. Still, he listens and inserts a second finger with the first. He goes in and out, drawing sighs from your lips as he builds you up. His mouth is going crazy, moving his lips with a vengeance. Your blood is hot, traveling down as your release starts to come to the surface.
You can’t stop clamping down on his fingers, your pussy having a mind of its own. He is pistoning them now, causing your fluids to make its way down your ass onto the comforter. The sounds coming from his handiwork edge you further, your release imminent.
“Oh God, Logan! I’m cumming!”
Big mistake on your part.
He pulls away, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. A smug look appears on his face, and you have the urge to shove his face back into your aching cunt.
“Your first time cumming with me will be on my cock, sweetheart.”
He pulls your thong down your legs and moves you back to the front of the bed. He stands before you, making light work of removing his belt from the loops of his jeans. His jeans are next, pulling them down with his briefs.
You don’t know what you expected. You weren’t surprised with how well endowed he was, not with the way he is built. But to see it in person is so much different from your imagination. The details that your mind didn’t conjure up, especially the vein that starts from his lower stomach to the tip of his cock. It makes you salivate, wanting to run your tongue along it.
“You like what you see, darlin’?” He noticed you staring, but you have no shame. Not anymore.
“Yeah, want it in my mouth so bad.”
He walks over to you, his cock in your face. His hand goes to your head, stroking the baby hairs that are starting to stick to your temple. “As much as I would love that, I am dying to give you the fucking you deserve, sweetheart. However…” he brings your head up closer to his cock, your lips not even an inch away. “How about you get it nice and wet for me.”
You don’t have to be told twice. You work up a good amount of spit, letting it drip from your mouth onto his hard cock. You start to lick at the sides, spreading your saliva all over until he is covered. You are basically making out with his dick, your lips and tongue moving like you had when you were kissing him earlier. It isn’t until you get to that vein of his that you start to go wild, licking it up and down.
Logan is groaning deeply, and pulls your head back, a string of saliva connecting before breaking apart. You hear him curse under his breath before crawling back onto the bed, his hands holding your face as he brings his lips to you. His kisses are slow this time, letting it sink in that this is happening; that you two are about to be connected.
“You did such a good job. You are such a good girl.” He murmurs against your lips before sitting up.
His dick is now sitting heavy on your mound, and the weight of it feels delicious. He taps it against your clit a few times, your hips thrusting up in kind.
“You ready for me, sweetheart?” He lets his cock rut into your folds, thrusting up into your clit. “I think that sweet thing of yours is.”
“Give it to me, Lo. I need you so bad it hurts.”
“Don’t worry, baby. I’ll take that pain away.” He promises.
And as promised, he places the tip right at your aching hole and pushes in slowly. Your jaw slacks, the pressure as he continues his descent much more intense than you anticipated. It’s been so long since you’ve given yourself to someone. It all feels new, and you are thankful; thankful that it's with him.
He is fully seated in you, and you can only describe it as euphoric. With the way he sits heavy in your cunt, filling you up completely, you can honestly say that this was meant to happen. Logan was meant to be with you in every single possible way imaginable. It’s the only explanation.
“How does it feel, baby?” Logan asks, hands rubbing up and down your thighs soothingly.
“It feels,” you whimper, gripping down on him. “It feels so good, Lo.”
“Yeah? My cock makin’ you feel good, doll?” He groans, clearly being affected by your behavior.
Before you can mutter a pathetic answer, your brain turning to mush, he shifts back. His cock slides out until the mushroom head is at your entrance, and then he slams back in; hard and slow.
The constant back and forth of his cock has you shaking, his hard thrust knocking the air out of your lungs and the slow thrusts feeling oh so good. And with the way he is watching you, his face mimicking yours as he receives his own pleasure, is sending zaps of electricity to your cunt. It makes you grasp onto him hard as he gets you more worked up.
Logan sits up straighter, grabbing your right leg and bringing it up to his shoulder. His left hand keeps it steady as he speeds up slightly and presses gentle kisses to your ankle in the process. It lets him go deeper, kissing your cervix every time it goes in. The pressure feels incredible, and the more he speeds up, the more your cunt starts to spasm out of control.
“That’s it, baby. You are taking me so well, like you were fucking made for me.” He growls out, biting your ankle.
“God yes, Logan! I’m yours!” You cry out, him and his cock making you utterly delirious. “You were made for my pussy!”
“Fuck, you got a mouth on you.” He chides, his right hand going to your right breast.
He is squeezing your tit so tight; his hips are on autopilot with how fast he is taking you. Your hands don’t know where to go, going from gripping the fabric below to holding onto his wrist. He is putting you into a completely fucked out state, and you can’t get enough of that treatment.
You can tell you are on the precipice of cumming. You are clenching on and off rapidly, no longer in control of your muscles. The sounds coming from your coupling, wet smacking echoes that are music to your ears. You can feel the telltale sensation of being overwhelmed, and you know you are now on the track of no return.
“Logan, baby, I’m gonna cum!”
He snarls at you, a crazed look in his eyes as he slams into you. He lets go of your tit to grab your chin, keeping your eyes on his. “Do it, darlin’. Cum around my cock.”
You are over the edge in seconds, a silent scream taking over as you tremble and quake. Your pussy is convulsing like crazy, small gushes of liquid coming out. You see Logan look down at where you two are connected, and he is grinning like crazy.
“What a fucking sight. There isn’t one thing about you that isn’t pretty.”
You could sob at his words, especially with how overstimulated you are becoming. You work his cock, wanting him to cum inside of you.
“Give me your cum, Logan. Fill me until I’m dripping.”
Your words must have triggered something because next thing you know he has let go of your leg and face and is falling onto his forearms with his mouth landing on yours. You hear the sound of his claws, completely unsheathed from his skin, causing him to bellow into your mouth, rutting like a madman which causes cum to leak out from your hole onto the bedding.
He slows down, milking out the rest of his spend before stopping all together. He lets go of your lips gasping, face buried in your shoulder as he tries to calm down. Your hands go to his back, massaging the taut muscles as he shakes.
“Fuck, Logan,” you sigh, catching your breath as you come back to earth. You feel so relaxed, even with your guts feeling completely rearranged.
You hear his claws sink back into his skin, and it is then that he pulls out, falling to the other side of the bed. His chest is going up and down with every heavy breath, and you can’t help but admire him like this.
He turns his head over to you, his hand coming to grab the hand by your side. “C’mere, sweetheart.”
You make it over into his side, head laying on his chest as you both bask in the post-sex glow. You can’t help but smile at this turn of events, not expecting to have been in this position with Logan. But here you are, laying on his chest with his arms around you.
You notice something in your peripherals and see splintering from the headboard of your bed. There are six holes in the wood, and it sends you into a laughing fit, a euphoric glaze covering your entire body.
“What’s so funny?” He asks gruffly, pulling you into side as you continue to laugh.
“Your claws pierced my headboard.”
You see him glance back, and you see him sigh, relaxing more into the mattress. “I’ll fix it up for you, darlin’. I’m sorry about that.”
“No need to say sorry.” You snuggle your face into his skin, breathing in his natural musk as you relax more into him. “I just can’t believe we did that, but I’m glad it did.”
“I can say the same.” He murmurs, stroking your hair gently. “Seriously, I gotta know, did you see this coming?”
You shift up, going to lay your arms across his chest only for you to rest on them. You look into his eyes and the need in them is still there, but not in the way they were before. They were searching, looking for any confirmation that what you both just did truly meant more. It makes him look vulnerable, something he rarely shows. It makes you smile at the prospect of him opening up even more.
“Not until today. It’s strange now that I think about it.”
“And why is that?”
“I never saw you coming, I guess. Even when it is clear as day how you felt about me, I never got anything that told me it was real. I didn’t want to potentially screw anything up between us.”
He hums, a look of contemplation on his face before taking a hand and rubbing his face, a long sigh coming out in the process. “I suppose that’s my fault.”
You can’t help but look confused. His fault? “Why do you say that?”
“I haven’t been fully honest, but ever since I came here, no matter how welcomed and appreciated I am here, I have contemplated leaving.” His hand leaves his face to go behind your neck, lightly scratching the skin at the nape before continuing. “I’ve been alone for a long time. Having a family has never been in the books for me. It is easier to not let people in.”
“So, that’s why I couldn’t see you coming. You hadn’t made up your mind?”
“It’s possible, but it’s just a theory.”
“But, if that’s the case, have you made your mind up?” You start rubbing his chest with your palm, feeling his heart pulse slowly. You are confident you know the answer now, but you want to hear him say it.
He grunts in laughter, shaking his head slightly before letting his fingers curl around the back of your neck. “I think you know the answer, princess. But if you really want to know, come up here.”
You push yourself from him, moving so you are straddling his torso. He brings his hands to your face once more, pulling you down so you are face to face with him. He kisses you, slowly initiating intimacy with his lips. He isn’t saying anything, but you can feel what he is saying through the act alone.
“I can’t close myself off from you,” he says between kisses. “And I don’t want to. Especially if you’ll have me.”
“I think you already know the answer to that, Lo.”
“Still, I wanna hear you say it.”
You pull away so you can look into his eyes, giving him all the sincerity you can muster. “I love you, and I want you to stand by me.”
He smiles teeth and all, and pulls you back down, kissing all over your face causing you to squeal. “Hmm I love you too, sweetheart. Always have.”
You both stay like that for a while, basking in each other's company in post-coital ecstasy by continuing to taste one another. Another thought came over you, and you can’t help but laugh again.
“If I had known sex would make you like this, I would have made a move a long time ago.” Logan jokes, breathing them in.
“I’m sorry, but I’m laughing because it took me taking your cigars hostage to do it.”
Logan throws his head back, chuckling at what you presume is the same thing you are laughing about.
“Speaking of those cigars, can you grab them for me?”
You perk up, pushing away from him to lean over to your side of the bed. Your fingers stretch for the book, getting a grasp on it before getting settled back with Logan. He pulls you in quickly, hurdling you into his side. You see he has his lighter ready, which he must have grabbed while you were getting his cigars.
“You gonna smoke one?”
He hums, taking one out. “I only smoke these on special occasions. I think this qualifies.”
He carefully unsheathes a claw, cutting the end before it sinks back under his skin. He flickers the lighter, letting the bright flame linger on the end to get a good burn going. He then lays back, pulling you even closer into his side, before taking his first puff.
You smile, laying your head against him as you let your eyes drift closed. You feel yourself drifting away, the smell of his cigar and the sound of his pulse lulling you to a deep sleep; a sleep with dreams that you hope feel like déjà vu in the near future.
Logan is sick and tired of you treating him like he's fragile. He'll ignore his relentless pain to show you what it's like to be taken apart, rough and slow, then fast and agonizing.
wc: 3.5k of pure smut
warnings: heavy smut, lap sitting, fingering, oral (f!receiving and m!receiving), dirty talk, facials, p in v, ruined orgasms, snowballing, kind of angsty, the claws come out, logan is angry with you, kinda toxic, definitely mean, but still kind of sweet, pwp basically, blood, but it's not bloodplay, it's just logan not caring if he's hurt, if i missed any let me know.
Logan comes home and throws himself back on that torn-up leather sofa, thumb flicking his lighter while the other holds a cigar. It’s less of a distraction from the ache in his bones, and more of a device to push you away. Because if you think he’s tired or angry or hurting, you won’t ask him to fuck you.
It’s not like he doesn’t want you. Of course he does. It’s the sympathy in your eyes when he gets tired from just a couple of minutes of thrusting that he hates. The whispered, “It’s okay. baby, I can ride you.” The gentle touches across his body and his neck and his face and his beard. It all reeks of pity. And if you were to sit him down one day and ask him why he hates being taken care of, he wouldn’t have an answer. He would push the voice in his head down into the void that all the strength he had left fell in, the voice shrinking until it’s nothing as it screams, because I’ve never been taken care of, and I would’ve loved it back when being taken care of wasn’t my only choice.
But it’s fine. You wouldn’t ever ask him that question because he knows for a fact that you don’t know. If you did, you wouldn’t be climbing onto his lap quietly, hands rubbing his sides as you press kisses to his neck.
“I missed you, Logan,” You whisper. Your hips aren’t moving; He knows he sat here like this to avoid fucking you, but he almost wishes you were seeking exactly that. Sex, as embarrassing as it would be for him, is better than you holding him because of your sick love for him. He doesn’t think you love him in the way lovers do. It’s the kind of love meant for sick puppies, or the lonely old woman sitting on the bus with all her belongings in plastic bags.
He turns his head to take a drag of his cigar. Silence.
You hold his face, forcing him to look at you as you kiss him. Slow, chaste, no tongue. He feels scrutinized by your touches, and something nervous seats itself deep in his belly.
“How was your day?” You ask, your gaze snapping between his eyes.
He closes them. “I’m tired,” Logan says flatly.
“I know. It’s okay.”
There it is again. Pity.
He scoffs. It’s quiet. Barely there. He didn’t mean to. He watches your face fall the smallest bit. A year ago, he wouldn’t have noticed, and if he would’ve, he would blurt out an apology. Now, he does notice, but he secretly wants to watch it fall even further if it means you’ll realize how much you’ve been hurting him.
You swallow, your thumb rubbing his cheekbone. “I found an American poetry anthology in the basement today. 20th Century. My favorite poem was in it.”
He mumbles, “In a Station of the Metro. T.S. Elliot.” Remembering the poem you told him about months ago sounds too much like sorry. He wishes he’d pretended to forget.
“Elliot Pound,” You correct. Your smile tells him he’s forgiven for an apology he never offered. “If you can recite it I’ll be impressed.”
“I’m not reciting a goddamn poem.” He sounds sarcastic, and it relieves you, but then you kiss him and he’s wound tight again.
You sigh as you pull back. “What’s bothering you, baby?”
“Nothing’s bothering—”
“What’s bothering you?” You interject.
He shakes his head, clenching his jaw. He makes the decision to sacrifice his dignity for the sake of stopping this conversation. You never could resist an orgasm, especially one caused by him. “Enough of that.”
“What?”
But he’s putting out his cigar and lifting you off his lap with a suppressed grunt, then pushing you down on the couch.
“Logan,” You protest.
He continues undoing the drawstring of your pajamas.
You sit up straight, swatting his hand away. “Stop.”
He withdraws immediately, breathing hard through his nose as he looks down at the floor. He was wrong, before, about you not knowing. You definitely know, because you don’t place a loving hand on his thigh and you don’t kiss his shoulder. He’s grateful.
Instead, you observe his profile, then the quiet tremor in his hand. The impossible stillness of the rest of him. He tends to do that when his nerves are on fire. Thinks being a statue is what people who aren’t in chronic pain do.
“Don’t do that,” He mumbles, feeling your eyes on him. “I don’t need you feeling sorry, or whatever—whatever the fuck else goes through your head when you’re around me.”
You say nothing. That’s the most he’s said about his feelings in a while. He knows it, so he forces himself to say nothing, too. It doesn’t last long.
“I’m not dying.” His voice cracks a little at the end and he fights the urge to squeeze his eyes shut.
“I know.” The words come out in a tumble, as if you’re rushing to participate in his lie.
“Then stop looking at me like I’m dying.”
“Okay.” Tears prickle your eyes but you blink them away.
“Okay,” He repeats.
You take a deep breath. “But it’s okay to be cared for, Logan.”
He laughs incredulously, and suddenly his volume is rising and his voice is firm. “Would you just—Would you just quit being my fuckin’ mommy? Would you?”
He only lets your silence marinate for a second before he rushes in to kiss you, ignoring the cramps in his muscles as he tugs your neck forward roughly. You squeak against his mouth, fighting his impossible grip on you, but you give up with a shaky exhale through your nose when your efforts prove useless.
“I can take care of you, too,” He grits out. It would sound sweet if it weren’t for the frustration in his tone. He pushes you onto the couch the same way he did moments before as he opens your legs by your knees and settles between them. He sucks a dark mark onto your neck, his fingers digging bruises in your ribs.
“I know you can,” You reassure him. You can see where this is going. “And I love when you do.” You gasp when he pulls your shirt up over the curve of your breasts.
“No. You don’t.” He pinches one of your nipples and sucks the other into his mouth for a brief second. “It’s okay. I’ll show you so you don’t forget again. You won’t want to get ruined any other way.”
“Logan,” You sigh.
He hums against the soft skin just underneath your breast as his hands ravage your body. He begins to unsheathe the adamantium claws in one of his hands so he can rip your top open. It’s slow and excruciating, so he closes his eyes, but the pain is over too soon and his suspicions are confirmed when he opens his eyes to see them stuck halfway.
You don’t expect him to lean back and individually tug each blade free. There’s blood, and now it’s dripping onto your belly, and he mumbles something that sounds like an apology as he wipes the dots of red away with his thumb.
But the hazel in his eyes is alive again. You hope it’s you that did that. Hope it’s not the pain or the sight of his own blood. You want to ask him, just to make sure. You don’t like hurting, right? You just really like me—
He slices through your shirt, careful not to graze your skin, and you try to ignore the fact that he’s never that cautious with himself, but you can’t.
“Logan, you’re bleeding.” Your voice is unstable.
“It’ll heal,” He says quickly, passively. He wipes his burning palm on his wifebeater.
“But that takes a long time now.”
He meets your eyes, his movements frozen. He’s angry and you’re not stupid. You’re pitying him again. He needs you to stop fucking pitying him. When he speaks, his voice is deep and rough and slow, and you would be scared if he wasn’t your Logan. “Are you done?”
You don’t know what to say, so you just close your eyes and nod. You hear his claws retract faster than when they came out, and almost simultaneously, he’s shoving that same hand under your waistband as two of his calloused fingers push themselves into your cunt.
You arch toward him involuntarily, a ragged moan falling from your lips as he tugs your pajamas off your legs and spits on your pussy to ease the slide of his fingers.
Each groan he pulls from your throat is a step toward dispelling the doubt from your body. Doubt of his capabilities, of his strength, of his devotion to you.
“Beg me to fuck you,” He demands, fingering you roughly.
Your mind is cloudy at this point, from sadness or arousal or both, but you give him what he wants. “Fuck me,” You whisper, your eyelids about to flutter shut as you shed a tear.
But then you catch Logan smiling.
He grabs your jaw with his free hand, and you look at him immediately. “You’re gonna let me use it, right? Get myself off?” You lazily trace his features with your gaze—His nose, his wrinkles, his beard—because you know if it were your fingers instead he’d mistake it for tenderness and get mad again.
You nod, but it’s weak with how hazy everything is.
“Good girl.”
“Please,” You sigh, “I need you inside of me. I need to—I need it.”
“I know. I know what you’re feeling before you feel it. I know you’ve been missing when I used to ruin you.” He lets the pad of his thumb draw quick circles on your clit. “What? Thought I couldn’t hear you playing with yourself in the shower? If I can hear your heartbeat when I walk through the door, what makes you think I wouldn’t have heard you whining my name?”
“Logan,” You sigh, your hips lifting off the couch, coaxing his fingers deeper for as long as possible before he’s shoving you back down with the heel of his palm.
“I’m gonna play with you now. I’ll fuck you after, don’t worry your pretty head about it.”
“What do you mean?” You breathe, fighting to keep your eyes open as he finds your g-spot.
He grins dirtily, in a way that makes your head spin and your thighs clench around his hand. You’re barely processing his words as he bends down to mumble in your ear, “Right when you’re about to make a mess on my fingers, I’m gonna stop. Then I’m gonna go down on you. And I’m gonna lick your pretty pussy, maybe even fuck you with my tongue if you’re good. And guess what? Guess what I’m gonna do when you’re this close?”
“You’re gonna stop,” You whine.
“I’m gonna stop,” He nods, and it’s mocking, but it’s gentle, and he’s fucking killing you with the way he’s talking right now. “But I’m not mean. I’ll give you a break. You can calm down when my dick is in your mouth, okay?”
“Okay,” You breathe, your hips unabashedly grinding on his fingers. But you want to reassure him he is mean, and you especially want to tell him how much you love it. “Logan, I’m gonna—”
He withdraws his fingers from you so fast it almost burns. You clench around nothing, your lower half spasming as your orgasm barely approaches before falling away again. Only a hint of pleasure is able to make it through the cracks, and you cling onto it, hoping if you focus hard enough, the wave will come back. It doesn’t. You should regret warning Logan that you were about to finish, but all you feel is comfort now that he’s finally proud of you again.
Another tear streams down the side of your face, landing in your hair. Logan’s watching you as he pets your thigh, his lips parted when he leans down over you. He kisses your wet cheek softly, his beard rough on your skin. It’s unlike him to offer you affection this gracefully during sex. It’s always shaky limbs and suppressed groans and dirty kisses. Both of you know it.
He moves down your body, until his face is hovering over your cunt. He doesn’t have his reading glasses on, so he has to pull his head back and squint as he spreads your folds with his thumbs, studying what you look like. He licks a stripe over you. A second, longer one, before he zeroes in on your clit. You can do nothing except lay there and take it as your hips twitch from overstimulation under his firm hands.
“Oh my god,” You whisper, your fingers twisting in his hair. “F-Fuck.”
He moans at that, pressed right up against you, the sound deep and delicious and vibrating. “Feel good?” He asks teasingly with a nip to your inner thigh.
“What do—What the fuck do you think?”
He breathes a laugh. It’s short and airy, not frustrated like before, and a warmth ignites itself in the back of your mind. It’s overpowering even the feeling of his mouth licking and sucking your most sensitive area; It’s the relief that he’s still hiding the Logan you fell in love with somewhere in there.
You wind your fingers in his hair and scratch his scalp. You try to do it lovingly, although it comes across as sexual and Logan’s breath hitches in pleasure against your pussy instead. So as you suppress a gasp from the pure skill of his tongue, you show your affection differently—you hold the wounded hand he has resting face-up beside your hip. The cuts embedded there are easy to avoid as your thumb rubs the lines of his palm, because even though you can’t see his hand, the puffiness surrounding each slash on his skin are your cues.
He doesn’t move his hand away, but his tongue falters for a fraction of a second before slowing down.
The kind of love you’re pressing into Logan’s skin with each gentle stroke is unrecognizable to him. It’s not the pitiful love he’s so used to. He thinks it might be the opposite. Admiration. Reverence.
“I’m so empty,” You whisper, bringing your hands to grope Logan’s biceps. They’re sweaty and hard and flexing under your touch, and you wonder if he would let you ride them one day.
When your climax starts to creep up on you, it’s thanks to the image of Logan forcing you to lick your arousal clean off his bicep. Indulgently swirling your tongue along his pronounced veins, savoring the taste of his sweat mixed with yourself. He’d probably say somthing like, fuckin’ filthy. Getting yourself off on my arm. Who does that? Are you that obsessed with me?
Logan feels you squeezing his tongue, harder than all the other times before, so he withdraws at the last moment, ruining your orgasm once again.
You convulse silently, your breath coming out stuttered with your twitching jaw. As if he can read your mind, he unbuckles his belt and removes his pants and boxers. But he doesn’t strip himself of his wifebeater, stained with blood.
It’s the hottest thing in the world.
You blink, and suddenly Logan is hovering above you with his cock over your face. He rubs his leaking tip on your cheeks first, then your lips, and when you open your mouth to take him, he moves his cock away and nudges your jaw shut with his free hand, shaking his head.
“Not yet.”
A whine lodges itself in your throat as Logan spreads his pre-come over the plush of your lips. It escapes only when he lets go of his cock in favor of massaging his wetness across your lips and on your tongue with his thumb. His hard cock is bobbing above you, almost tantalizingly, the occasional drip of arousal landing itself somewhere near your eyes, then your hair, then your mouth, and you watch Logan’s brow furrow as you try to lick whatever you can.
His resolve snaps. A calloused hand squeezes at your cheeks until your jaw falls open. His cock is in your mouth before you can process it, thick and heavy and wet. So. Incredibly. Wet. You start to wonder how it’s even possible that he’s this hard at his age, but you know he wouldn’t want you to be wondering that, so you happily push the thought away.
You suck your cheeks in, swirling your tongue around his tip as you bob your head to meet the subtle, almost imperceivable thrust of his hips. You’re taking it well, you know you are.
He moves back until his cock slips out of your mouth. “I don’t wanna come like this. Wanna fuck you.”
“Yeah, yes. Fuck me. Please.”
He stands up and turns you on your front, your knees pressing into the soft couch cushions with your ass in the air.
“Logan,” You plead as you feel his tip pressing at your entrance.
“I’ve got you,” He says quietly, pushing in until half of his cock is comfortably squeezed by your cunt. Both your breathing is loud and labored, and there’s a specific kind of intimacy in knowing you’re both feeling identical things. Overwhelming and hot and unquenchable by anything other than each other.
His first thrust is shallow, but it ruins you all the same. With how thick he is, it should feel like an intrusion. But all you can think about is how perfectly he fits inside of you.
“Fuck,” Logan breathes. “Look at that.” He traces around your entrance with his thumb. “Stretching so wide to take me.”
You moan, pressing your cheek against the sofa as you rock with his thrusts. He still hasn’t pressed all the way in yet, and you’re growing impatient. “Come on,” You urge, pushing yourself back to force more of his cock into you.
You expect him to chastise you for being so greedy, but he listens to you instead with a slow, full thrust. His tip nudges your cervix with how deep he is, and a ragged moan escapes you. “Yes,” You whine, “Oh god, yes.”
Logan’s breaths are coming out heavy through his nose, quick and occasionally intertwined with a grunt. His thrusts are getting quicker, and it’s starting to burn, but you welcome every sensation he has to offer you. He pulls out, spits on his cock, then shoves himself back inside, and this time you’re both unabashedly moaning the minute you’re joined again.
His fingers dig in the plush of your ass as he observes himself disappearing into you. It hurts, but you love it. He knows you do, so he spanks you quickly before gripping you and rutting against you again.
“I love when you fuck me,” You whisper, feeling ashamed as soon as the confession leave you. “When you properly fuck me.”
He slows for a moment so he can watch his cock glisten with how wet you are. “I know.” He picks back up his punishing pace.
Your eyes begin to water, from pain or pleasure, you can’t tell. “I love you.”
“I know,” He repeats, this time breathier. His hips stutter. You can tell he’s close.
“I want it on my face,” You tell him quickly, his impending orgasm giving you no time to worry about being too forward.
He pulls out again, letting you turn onto your back as he shifts up your body. He jerks himself furiously, but you swat his hand away and take it upon yourself to stroke him.
“Come for me,” You tell him honestly, softly. His eyes squeeze shut and his lips part around a trembling exhale.
“I’m gonna—” He groans over and over as his release coats your face in long stripes. Some of it even lands in your hair, but you don’t care. Your own fingers work your clit as you stick your tongue out and taste him. Logan bends down to kiss you, chest heaving and hands shaky, and you rub yourself faster, swapping his release between the two of you with a hum. He pulls back so you both can swallow, then he kisses your cheeks with his rough beard, uncaring about the mess on your face.
You don’t know you’re coming until it’s over and you’re breathless, and it’s almost excruciating with how much he’s ruined you, but you’re so exhausted you can’t find it in yourself to dwell on it a second longer.
You wrap your arms around his neck and tug him down for another kiss because you can hardly remember the one he just gave you.
“I’m sorry I had been treating you all wrong,” You say carefully.
“It doesn’t matter anymore.” His voice is rough from his orgasm.
You nod, your lips brushing his as you smooth sweaty strands of hair away from his forehead. These touches are hard for him. Any variation of your chaste affection is a reminder that he’s not really Logan anymore.
But the shame in it is gone. Replaced by the reassurance that he can still surround you with safety and firm hands and blatant desire;
And for a moment, he’s his old self again.
A/N: it's been so long since i've written anything, but logan has been consuming my brain for weeks so i had to get this out. i hope it's true to his character. <3 also, my asks are open, so feel free to request anything you want to read about.
romaincrisis
ellievsbear
gamechangershow
gracieabrams
