note from author all works are 18+ ; ☽ indicates explicit sexual content; home
includes ... BRUCE WAYNE (BATTINSON); RAFE CAMERON; JAKE SULLY; ETHAN LANDRY; STILES STILINSKI; MIKE SCHMIDT; LUKE CASTELLAN; PAUL ATREIDES; ART DONALDSON, TASHI DUCNAN
BRUCE WAYNE !
❝ after party ❞ ☽ 1.3k+ words
after a tiring night out, bruce just wants to bury himself between your thighs
RAFE CAMERON !
❝ west village ❞ ☽ 1.1k+ words
all good things must come to an end, and that includes your relationship with rafe
JAKE SULLY !
❝ east to west ❞ ☽ 3k+ words
sometimes you and jake argue. sometimes those arguments end up with him fucking you against a tree.
ETHAN LANDRY !
❝ stuck with you ❞ 1.6k+ words
by a stroke of sheer bad luck, you end up stuck in an elevator with your self proclaimed worst enemy
❝ bad taste ❞ 1k+ words
you're partnered with ethan landry for a 2000s-esque 'baby project'
❝ just a little bit ❞ ☽ 2.4k+
there's something about the heat of camp nightingale that makes you really want ethan landry
MIKE SCHMIDT !
❝ nothing real ❞ 1.3k+ words
usually haircuts don't include intense longing. but usually, mike doesn't get a haircut from the person he desires most
⇀ ❝ haunting your bed ❞ 2.2k+ words
you, mike, and abby bake a chocolate cake and mike gets to taste it from your lips
PAUL ATREIDES !
❝ do you believe in us? ❞ ☽ 5.4k+
you and paul become stepsiblings, but don't stop your affairs
description. you're broke, but you want to go on a vacation with your friends. luckily, your roommate logan says he has a well paying opportunity for you—one he thinks you would be perfect for
includes. 90s pornstar! logan, roomate! logan, protected pnv, fingering, oral (f receiving), logan's lowk a pro, r is nervy but not a virgin, rom-com vibes honestly
wc. 6.5k+
a/n: this took like 2-3 months um. here’s what he looks like btw (safe tumblr link). title from i want your video by djo
You don’t mean to sigh whenever you click the phone back onto the receiver, but it comes out of you naturally. You rest your head on the wall, taking deep breaths, trying to hold off a tantrum. If you were alone, you would’ve screamed into your hands by now, followed by a stomped lap around the apartment and insistent rambling until you found yourself calmer than before.
But you withhold all of this on account of Logan sitting not far from you.
He’s staring at the TV, watching the movie he picked for movie night. You were interested in watching it before, sitting right beside him with your feet tucked under your legs as you watched everything unfold. But after the call you’ve just had, the only thing you can focus on is how your life feels like it’s slowly crumbling apart beneath you, and you can do nothing about it.
“What happened?”
You pinch your eyes shut, already regretting the—albeit small—scene you made. Now you’re forced to lay your problems out for Logan.
You take your time walking back to the couch, taking a quick detour to the kitchen where you grab a soda for yourself, and a beer for Logan without him having to ask. But by the time you make it back to the living room, Logan’s looking at you, his thick eyebrows raised and his lips parted as if he’s actually curious about what happened.
“My friend called.”
He happily takes the beer from your hands, slightly grinning to himself as he cracks the bottle open with his bare hands and takes a sip.
Logan stares at you from over the rim, waiting for you to continue.
You do so begrudgingly. “They’re planning a vacation.”
“Really? To where?”
“They don’t know yet but places like Aspen, Big Sky, Montego Bay, or whatever other city she mentioned.”
Logan hums, nodding along.
“And…? Why do you sound so bummed? Wouldn’t it be fun to go skiing with your girl friends?”
It would be fun, vacations with them are always fun. But that’s what got you in this predicament in the first place—working two jobs and picking up whatever odd opportunities found you along the way. Too many vacations did eventually have a toll on your savings. It finally came back to bite you in the butt.
“I’m bummed because I don’t have any money.”
Logan shrugs like there’s the easiest solution in the world sitting right on the cluttered coffee table in front of you both. He turns back to the TV, taking another swig from his beer before he answers. “Then just don’t go.”
You groan, tipping your head back until you knock into the wooden structure of the back of the couch.
“It’s not that easy.”
“Seems like it is to me. You don’t have to be part of everything. Surely nothing too good can happen on this trip.”
“But this guy I kinda sorta like, Scott—” Logan groans at the mention of him. You scoff, slapping his arm. You try your hardest to ignore just how hard his bicep feels against your hand.
“Don’t make that sound. You only met Scott once and you caught him on a bad day.”
“Just because he had a bad day doesn’t mean he had to take it out on everyone else. Fucking prick.”
You ignore his grumbling. “Well he’s going and it would be the perfect time for us to get together, right?”
Logan doesn’t look impressed. He looks the exact opposite, actually. The definition of nonchalance sits right there on his pretty features. “Seems very childish to me. Childlike behavior.”
“You’re only 3 years older than me.”
He looks over at you, a lazy and self-assured smile on his pink lips. “And what a world of a difference those three years make.”
You don’t even say anything else. There’s nothing for you to say. Logan doesn’t get it. He has a fairly stable, well-paying job. He doesn’t seem strapped for money. You’ve never even heard him complain about money.
You focus on the movie with a lack of interest, taking occasional sips from your soda, running ideas through your head about how you’ll possibly make enough money to afford this trip. Maybe you’ll have to call your parents and ask them to lend you something. It’ll be better than asking your friends, especially since you don’t want to seem like a burden. You’d rather deal with your parent's lecture. Listen to your mom tell you that you shouldn’t have moved to a new city, one renowned for being expensive at that. You shouldn’t have moved in with that boy. You shouldn’t have dropped school. So many things you shouldn’t have done.
… Maybe you shouldn’t go on the trip at all. Maybe Logan has a point. How much could you miss out on?
Just as you’re starting to conjure up images of things that could happen without you there, Logan shifts closer to you. He stares straight ahead while he speaks.
“You know, if you need extra money, I know a job you’d be perfect for.”
Your eyebrows furrow but since Logan isn’t looking at you, you don’t look at him.
“You do?”
He hums. You wait for him to add on, and when he doesn’t elaborate immediately, you throw a quick glance his way. He’s still staring straight ahead, though, so you continue to mirror him.
“I got a call from the guys at the studio this morning.”
You were there for it. Well, some of it. You were rushing to get ready for work after having overslept. A waffle in your mouth while you messily brushed mascara onto your eyes using your compact mirror. You were sitting in the kitchen, finishing this one thing before leaving, and Logan was standing where you were not long ago.
With one hand on his hip, facing the wall, he seemed serious. His tone was a little remorseful as he sighed, agreeing with whoever had been on the other side of the line. After the call ended, he went to his room and you didn’t see him again until you got home from work.
You nod, tapping your fingers against the metal can as you await more information to add to the puzzle.
“The actress I was supposed to do my next shoot with had to drop out. We’ve been planning this one for a while and we’re too far into production to scrap it…”
“So…?” You’re really struggling to figure out exactly where you fit into this all.
“So, I think you would be perfect for the gig.”
His admission hangs in the air. It sits beside you both, squeezed into the small space in the center of the couch.
It’s awkward. From your end at least.
Logan thinks you’d be perfect for a part in a porno?
You don’t know why that’s so hard for you to believe, but it is. Does this mean he thinks you’re attractive? Maybe you just fit the casting description.
“What’s it about?”
Logan shrugs dismissively. He shifts his position, pushing his hips out a little more. You allow yourself a single glance before looking away.
“A young girl is tired of her overprotective parents and feeling sheltered so she goes out right before going to college, has some fun, and runs into this guy—“
“You, I’m assuming?”
Logan nods. “Yeah, me. I show you a good time the first time, we later find out I’m your professor, and then I show you a good time again.” He sends you a small smile. “Nothing you can’t handle.”
Definitely more than you can handle. “A professor? Don’t you look too young to play a professor?”
“It’s why I grew my beard out a little.” He takes his hand and drags his fingers along his jaw.
You’ll admit, the prominent scruff is a good look on him. It rounds his features out. The highlighted hair, single earring, tan skin, and now very short beard. He looks good, no wonder why people pay to see him fuck … and sometimes get fucked from what you understand.
It doesn’t seem too complex. As long as you remove the having sex for an audience part.
“And would it just be me and you? No one else?”
“No one else. Just us two. Well, aside from the crew and production guys.”
You chew on your bottom lip, looking up to the ceiling to think it through. There’s so much for you to consider, so many worries flying around your brain too fast for you to keep up. Logan senses this, taking another, punctual sip from his beer.
“There’s time to think it over. Just let me know by the end of the week, ‘kay? And no pressure. If you don’t wanna do it, don’t do it.”
You really need the money. You’re pacing outside of Logan’s closed bedroom door, trying your best to be light on your feet while you build the courage to knock on the door and give him your decision.
It would be mortifying, and possibly the hardest thing you’ve ever done (no pun intended, but God, now you can’t stop thinking about it), but you really need the money.
Just as you raise your fist to knock on the door, it’s pulled away from you, and you almost hit Logan right in the center of his chest.
“Woah.” He wraps his hand around your fist, gently pulling it down as he smirks down at you. “What was your plan here?”
You take your hand away, folding it into the other behind your back. “I was gonna tell you that I made a decision.”
“Alright,” Logan crosses his arms over his chest and leans into the door frame. If you hadn’t already come to a conclusion, just the way he looks right now would have driven you to one. His hair tousled on his head, his roots grown out even more than usual so the frosted tips are just barely hanging on. He’s dressed as he usually is—straight fitting black jeans and a undershirt, but the fit of both together just looks so good on him.
You’re staring. You know you’re staring, Logan knows you’re staring. Neither of you say or do anything about it for a minute, until Logan raises his eyebrows.
“You gonna share your decision with me or should I be reading your mind right now?” He furrows his eyebrows and pouts as if he’s really going to make an attempt at reading your mind.
You brush him off through a giggle. Then, suddenly, everything is serious and nothing has ever been funny ever before.
“I have decided that …” It’s so unnecessarily hard to say, but this is Logan, the guy who had to literally hold your head up from crashing into a vomit-full toilet when you got food poisoning. He’s seen you at your worst, and now he’s going to see you at your best. You won’t admit it to anyone, at least not for a while, but the idea excites you.
“I’ll do it.”
Logan’s grinning at you and you don’t know if it’s because he’s happy that he has found a new scene partner, or for some other reason. You don’t wanna think about it for too long.
There’s more and you take a tiny step towards him as if to indicate. “But I think I’ll feel better if I had some sort of crash course or something. I need to get my feet wet.”
“What about a practice round?”
Huh?
You blink up at Logan. You’re pretty sure you’re balking, not like you care.
“Practice round? What d’you mean?”
Logan kicks off of the doorframe and takes the extra step closer to you until you’re practically standing chest to chest. “I mean, we could rehearse. I could get the script for you a little earlier, we can run lines and do the other stuff, too, if it’ll make you feel better.”
“So we’ll fuck?”
Logan nods, a smile twisting the corners of his lips up. “Yeah, we’ll fuck. But only if you want to and if you think it’ll be beneficial. Strictly professional.”
For some reason, the way he says it feels weighted, as if he knows something you don’t. Or maybe, as if he’s referencing something you should know, but don’t.
“Yeah okay. But strictly professional.” And when you say it, it sounds the same.
It sounds like complete bullshit.
Bullshit or not, you’re going through with this. You keep telling yourself that there is no way you can back out now, but you know that if you shot up off of the couch, retreated into your room, and absolutely refused to do it with Logan, he would figure out some way to make it work. He would grumble about it, and maybe hold it against you for a bit, but he wouldn’t force you into something you didn’t want to do.
But you want to do this, and you will.
The script crinkles as you turn the page, blinking at the highlighted lines on the paper. You’ve been here before, it’s your fifth time running the lines with Logan and at this point you’re already starting to commit them to memory. Logically, it’s time to move on. But an itch in your throat tells you to ask to run them one more time, only so you don’t have to get to what comes next.
Logan gulps down the rest of his glass of water and sets the empty cup onto the coffee table, placing his script beside it. He turns to face you, resting his elbows on the faded knees of his jeans.
“You good?”
You blink. “Yeah. ‘m okay.”
Logan nods once. “Alright. Ready to move on then?”
“Sure. Yeah. Yes. Mhm.”
You can see Logan fighting off a smile but when he eventually lets it crack, it makes you feel better. This situation is awkward. There’s no point in pretending that it’s not.
“Where should we … what should we do?”
Logan shuffles closer and your breath hitches. He’s sat this close to you before, there’s nothing special about the way his knee knocks into yours. It’s just the implications behind it.
Jesus, if you’re getting flustered at just the proximity, what’re you going to do when he’s hovering over you?
“Don’t stress,” Logan coos. “We can start slow. When we get on set, everything happens so fast that you won’t have time to worry about anything. That means there’s no time to acclimate either, so let’s just start with getting acclimated with each other. That sounds okay?”
You nod, trying to prevent going cross eyed as Logan leans closer and closer. He cups your cheek with one hand, his fingertips digging into your hair as he pulls your face closer to his.
The first press of your lips together is gentle. It’s light, barely touching, but it lingers. The two of you hover there for a second, and then Logan presses himself closer until your lips slot together. This kiss is chaste, a simple peck. He pulls back, the two of you breathe, and then Logan goes in for more.
He tilts his head, taking the lead in moving your lips together. But this is something you’re comfortable with, even if it’s odd doing it with your roommate. But you know how to kiss, so you show him.
You press yourself closer to him, putting more intention and purpose behind the way your lips glide over his. You slip your tongue forward, poking his bottom lip once before drawing the muscle back in. It’s only when Logan glides his tongue out in search of yours that you introduce the change.
The kiss doesn’t ever get messy, it’s still a little too restrained for that, but it feels less awkward. You shuffle closer to Logan, throwing your leg over his on the couch and placing your hands on his shoulders. It’s shortly after that the need for a substantial amount of oxygen burns in your chest, and you pull away to suck in as much air as you can get as quickly as possible.
Whatever air you have is practically knocked out of you when Logan grins at you. “Very good,” he praises.
You try to hide how affected you are by rolling your eyes.
“You say that like you thought I didn’t know how to kiss.”
Logan throws his hands up in a mocking surrender. “I didn’t want to assume anything, alright?”
You’re about to reply, but then Logan leans in and he’s still smiling and his green eyes are glinting so nicely in the warm lighting of the living room and then he’s kissing you again so there’s no room for a response.
This kiss is deeper. While the last kiss was an introduction—both to what you’re capable of and of each other, this kiss introduces what the two of you are doing this for. You aren’t kissing just to kiss, even though that’s something you’re not opposed to at all. You’re kissing to fuck.
So Logan kisses you like he wants to fuck.
His hands gravitate to your waist and he tugs you closer. You allow him to move you until you’re flush against his legs, but that’s not what he wants. Logan shakes his head, pulling away from the kiss to tell you, “Don’t be shy, c’mere”.
You try not to think too much about it when you end up straddling his lap, your tiny shorts hiked up from the movement. You aren’t thinking too much about it until Logan looks up at you, eyes a little lidded in the way they usually are when he wakes up still high from the night before. His smile is similar to then, too, a laziness to it that’s different from the broad smile before. It’s as if he’s becoming dopey from just this.
You can’t stand to look at him anymore, so you go back to kissing him instead.
Logan sits back for the most part, letting you take control and do what you want. He lets you fist his hair and suck on his tongue. He lets you lick in his mouth and run your hands down his chest. The one thing he takes control of is when he pulls you down to sit flush against his lap, and it’s then that you feel it.
It’s obvious, of course Logan would be getting hard, but feeling his erection pressing against your thigh is different from mentally acknowledging it.
At first, you try to ignore it. You pull your lips away to kiss down Logan’s jaw and neck for a second before coming back to him, but just as you reach for Logan’s lips, he thumbs the side of your mouth. His thumb slips between your lips and it’s only there for a second, not much longer, but your head turns in search of it again. Logan doesn’t give it back, but you see the acknowledgement flash in his eyes.
Instead, he takes your hand in his and drags it down the cotton fabric of his white undershirt, going further and further until you’re touching the heavy denim of his jeans and resting right over the prominent print of his dick.
“Feel that? You feel what you’re doing to me?” You have nothing to say so you settle for dumbly nodding. “Yeah? See, you’re doing good.” Logan pecks your cheek, dragging his lips across your jaw and briefly sucking at a spot right beside your ear.
“Can I feel you?”
Still speechless, you settle for nodding.
Logan’s hand trails down your abdomen, fingers bunching up your big tee shirt as he goes further and further down. “Are you wet? Hm? Are you getting wet for me?”
“Jesus fucking Christ, Lo.”
He laughs, placing his head in the crook of your neck. “Too much?” he asks sincerely.
“Yeah.” His hands stop for a second. He looks up at you, eyebrows pinched together just enough in the center.
You clarify. “But in a good way.” And then Logan keeps going.
You expect him to dig his fingertips beneath the waistband of your shorts, but he doesn’t. He takes a different route, one that has his fingers teasing your inner thigh for a second before they slip up the gap in your shorts. This is how he feels you.
He watches you the entire time, his eyes big throughout. He watches your eyes flutter shut when he presses into your clit for the first time. He watches you gasp when he pushes your panties to the side and glides a fingertip through your folds, allowing himself to feel just how wet you really are. He watches your eyes briefly widen as he slowly slides a finger into your entrance.
“Just like that…” His voice is deeper somehow, a distinct gravel tone to it.
He pumps the first digit for a little while before introducing another. And even when he does, he asks you first. “You want another?”
You manage to vocalize your response this time, even though it’s nothing but a simple, “Yes”.
When Logan adds the second finger, you somehow already feel full. Yeah, it’s been a while since you got laid, and maybe that has something to do with your general reaction to all of this, but Logan’s two fingers are filling you up so nicely.
Much larger and longer than your own fingers, the way he pumps you feels so reminiscent of a cock that you’re already salivating. You’re a little embarrassed to already be getting this worked up and Logan can tell.
“Don’t hold back,” he tells you. “They’re gonna tell you to let go. So let go.”
You do, subtly at first. You let your hips rock with the movement of his fingers, pushing forward and back on his hand, practically grinding on his hands alone. And then you let the sound out. Nothing but breaths at first, until Logan digs deeper and finds what you’re sure he was looking for. Then you can’t help the moan that comes out of you.
Before you have time to feel anything uncomfortable towards your reactions, Logan’s praising you.
“There we go. ‘Atta girl.”
Your head hangs as Logan keeps going, pushing you further and further until your nails dig into Logan’s shoulder and you’re breathing heavily.
“C’mon, look at me,” Logan urges. “You gotta let the camera see how pretty you are, alright?”
You nod, lifting your head and immediately regretting it. There’s a glaze over your eyes, you can see it, and Logan sees it too.
He tilts his head, his eyes squinted and his eyebrows pinched together. It’s his way of asking what’s wrong, the same look he gives you when you come back from work with a similar look in your eyes.
The emotion is completely different this time, though. “I’m so close, Lo,” you explain.
Logan nods. “Alright. I got you, sweetheart.”
And he does have you. When your body seizes with your orgasm, Logan hooks his hand onto the back of your neck and pulls you into him, imaginary camera be damned. He helps you ride through it, keeping you sane throughout. And even when the twitching of your muscles has stopped, Logan keeps his fingers in you. Unmoving, just occupying the space.
“Wanna keep going?”
You nod. There’s no way you’re stopping now.
“Alright. Hold on then.” Logan stands without much warning, forcing you to wrap your legs around his waist. His fingers slip out of you as he effortlessly carries you down the hall and to his bedroom, and the instant emptiness you feel is nearly dizzying.
The only thing keeping you from absolutely losing it is the knowledge that you’ll soon be fuller than you’ve ever been before. Hopefully.
You’ve been respectful of you and Logan’s relationship. He doesn’t bother to get involved in your work so you didn’t bother to get involved in his, even if there is a clear difference in entertainment levels.
So even when your friends would beg and plead to go to the video store and buy one of Logan’s tapes, you would stay firm in your position that it was none of your business. The only things you knew about Logan were things that you learned from living with him. You knew his body was lean from the times when he would slip out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist to give you the space. You knew Logan was a good lay because of the sounds you’d walked in on a few times when you were supposed to be out of the apartment but needed to grab something you’d forgotten. You knew Logan was hung because of the print he’d made you feel just a mere fifteen minutes ago.
As if you needed further confirmation, Logan slipping his clothes off and revealing the tent in his briefs was more than enough.
You stand across from him as he undresses and for far too long, you’re distracted by his physique. The body hair he reveals when he takes his shirt off. The way his biceps and abdomen tenses in picturesque ways as he simply moves. Each patch of skin that is revealed as clothes slide off of his tanned skin.
You don’t even realize you’re still completely clothed until Logan has his hands on your waist, pushing you back towards his bed as he sloppily kisses at the side of your neck.
“Shit, ‘m sorry, lemme—” You try to hook your hands under your shirt but Logan tuts.
“No, no, I got it. Let me.” He sits you down on the edge of the bed, sinking to his knees but not before he pulls your shirt off. He reaches up, fingering the straps of your bra before slipping them down one by one. There’s an almost tenderness in this moment where he reaches back and undoes your bra, helping you slip your arms out of each of the straps.
You don’t feel awkward or embarrassed at all as you reveal your breasts to Logan. It doesn’t feel natural, not at all, but you feel safe. The same goes for when he lays you back and pulls your shorts off. He leaves your panties on for now.
Without having to be told you climb back into the center of the bed, watching Logan follow you the entire time. You lay back on your elbows and he sits up on his knees, hands resting on your knee caps to keep him balanced. With a gentle shove he pushes your knees apart and you take the hint, spreading your legs to give him room.
He climbs between them, leaning on his forearms as your crotches press together, barred away from the other through two thin layers of undergarments.
He kisses you again, that same hunger from before present right here. His crotch grinds into yours as well, a slow push and an even slower pull that somehow manages to continue working you up. You don’t know how much more you’ll be able to take before you snap.
But for now you can handle it.
You revel in the feeling of Logan’s lips against yours and the outline of his dick pressing into your cunt. You bask in the warmth from his body as it spreads down to yours.
You’ve always noticed how big Logan is, how his tall and strong stature is multiplied by the confidence that he carries himself with, and it’s not the first time that you feel dwarfed beneath him. He feels incredibly in control above you, but in a manner that is not overwhelming. There is room for you to take this all back if you want to—and you certainly don’t, at least not before this really gets somewhere—but Logan is in complete control.
At least for now.
“Do you …” your fingers take through Logan’s hair and he seems to melt from the touch, the tension in his neck relaxing as his head hangs directly down over your chest. Meanwhile, he continues rocking his hips into yours. It’s incredibly distracting, and for a moment you forgot you were even saying something until Logan nips the side of your neck.
“Do I…?”
You inhale and take a moment. “Do you have a condom?”
You can feel Logan smile against your skin. He nods, a gentle movement that you know exists from the way the tip of his nose runs up and down the side of your neck.
When you reach to the side in pursuit of opening his bedside drawer, Logan holds you still with a firm grasp on your waist. “Just stay here for a little while longer,” he asks. And the way he says it, breathy, almost like a plea. It feels oddly romantic..
What you and Logan are doing, and are about to do, isn’t necessarily transactional, but it is supposed to be casual in terms of professionalism. It’s supposed to be mundane, even if the circumstances are anything but.
But Logan is blurring the lines with moments like this. He’s savoring it, and it’s confusing.
If you weren’t on a mission, and too fearful to pop the delicate bubble created, you would say something. Instead, you stay there for a little while longer and let Logan grind his boner into the crotch of your panties.
Eventually you have matching wet patches, except yours is much larger than his, spreading down the entire center of your panties and reaching towards your ass. Logan even makes note of it beneath his breath, pulling away and holding your legs by your knees, taking one hand away to run his fingertip down the seam of your folds.
Whatever he says, you don’t hear because you’re too busy trying to find the proper words to ask him to finally fuck you. Eventually, you just say it outright.
Logan grins down at you, nodding as he reaches over to the nightstand.
“Alright, alright,” he chides, “forgive me for wanting to have a little fun beforehand.”
You’re hooking your thumbs beneath your panties and lifting your hips when you raise your eyebrows. “Isn’t this the fun part?”
Logan shrugs as he stands and pulls his boxers off. “To most, yeah. But it’s all the fun part for me. Foreplay isn’t just a means to an end, it’s all part of it. Foreplay can be sex itself.”
You should be listening to his words, and you are just a bit, but most of your attention falls to watching him hold his cock in the base of his hand and then sliding the condom down the length of him. You watch the latex go further and further down, traveling a length that was as long as you had expected, but expanding wider than you thought.
He’s big, and you knew he would be, but it’s different to have it confirmed right in front of your eyes.
Logan chuckles as he shuffles forward. “Are you listening to me?”
You don’t even pretend. “No, not at all.”
Logan doesn't chide you, he only presses his lips to yours once.
“You’re not intimidated are you? Did you wanna stop?” His words are soothing, but the way he says it is not. He’s too cocky about it.
You roll your eyes. “‘m not intimidated. Keep going.”
Your legs are spread, Logan’s settled between them, he’s holding the base of his cock with one hand and has the other placed on your thigh, and you think he's going to slide in, but he doesn't. Instead, he lays his cock over your mound and stares, as if he's measuring it. He whistles lowly, and before you can do anything in response, he slides in. Slow at first, spreading you open inch by inch until his hips are flush against yours. He groans, the sound broken and shuddered, a sharp intake of breath following it as he pulls out and slides back in.
You’re so full it’s almost suffocating. It feels so intrusive to have your roommate feeling you in this way. Even through the layer of the condom, you know he can feel you. The two of you are bound in a way that you’ll never be able to forget, and you don’t want to.
Logan is so good to you. It’s obvious he knows what he’s doing when he rocks into you like this. Your head lolls to the side, eyes fluttering shut as Logan leans forward and wraps one of your legs around his waist. He asks you if you’re okay once more, and your answer is still the same, except with an added moan as Logan adjusts his position just a bit and reaches that spot he found before.
You aren’t sure exactly what you were expecting, but Logan doesn’t fuck you like he’s putting on a show. He makes his living by performing acts like this, but nothing about this is performative. This is pure, no intent to impress anyone because it’s just the two of you. What he does is for you, and he’s not overcompensating. He has nothing to prove.
The roll of his hips is simple and that’s what makes it good. The way he holds eye contact with you is expected and that’s what has you reeling for more. He’s so good because he’s not overdoing it, because he knows what he's doing. He’s so good because he’s so secure, unlike many people that you’ve slept with.
You’re comfortable with him, and that’s why you scrape your nails up Logan’s back and hitch onto his hair to keep his eyes on you when they stray for a moment.
“Logan,” you practically sing. He continues marching towards your mutually shared goal.
You try again. “Lo, lemme on top. Please, I wanna ride you.”
This gets him to stop. “Shit—fuck, yeah. Go on.”
He easily rolls onto his back and helps get you settled on top. It rightfully feels different to sink onto Logan than to have him sink into you.
You somehow feel fuller, again like you’re suffocating. You don’t even realize you’re not breathing until Logan points it out.
“Breathe,” he says, the deep timber of his voice teetering towards meditative.
It’s easy for you to do as he says. You let out the breath you were holding as you sank completely down onto Logan, sheathing him into your walls.
“You feeling okay?”
You nod, licking your lips as you test out moving for the first time. Unsurprisingly, it’s heavenly. “‘m alright.”
Logan nods and then he sits back. He doesn’t take control of the situation anymore. He’s handed it all off to you.
And while you think he didn’t feel the need to prove himself, you certainly do. It crawls up your spine and settles into your head, leaking back down to put pressure onto your chest until you feel like you’re being crushed by the desire to prove what you can do to Logan. To impress him at least a little bit.
Briefly, you hope he’ll be able to read your mind and see what you’re going through. Logan usually has the words needed to calm you down, and you think he’ll have them right now, too. Which, you’re sure he does, but how can he give them to you if he doesn’t know what you’re going through?
You could tell him, but instead you adjust your position, plant your hands on Logan’s chest, and do what you know how to do.
It’s intimidating to stare right into Logan’s clear green eyes so you let yours fall shut instead.
Looking at nothing but near-complete darkness, you find it much easier to focus. You easily latch onto a rhythm and the effects on Logan are audible. He makes sure they’re audible, letting groans and moans slip out.
“You’re doing so well, sweetheart.” His fingers press into your hips. It happens quick, the way his feet plant into the mattress. You’re forced to lurch forward, eyes falling open as both hands reach for Logan’s chest.
The shocked sound that automatically slips out is blended with a moan when your clit brushes Logan’s pubes. It takes a second to gather your bearings once more, and Logan watches you the entire time, but you find that same rhythm from before and when it’s applied like this, you can feel so much more of him.
It’s more strain on you, the stretch in your hips and lower back burns insistently and you don’t know how much longer you’ll be able to keep this up, but the combination of being in control and feeling practically everything encourages you to finish the job just like this.
One arm stretches up and grips the pillow behind Logan between your hand, the other hand slips between Logan’s head and the mattress. You pinch the grown out strands between your fingers until only the bleached ends stick out from between each digit.
Logan leans into your palm, tilting his head back and screwing his eyes shut as he surrenders completely to you.
There we go, you think to yourself, tiredly grinning and attempting to put more into the way you ride him.
It works as Logan’s blunt nails pinch the skin of your hips. The veins in his neck protrude as his mouth falls open. He doesn’t have to say anything, you know what’s coming. It shouldn’t be a surprise when you feel Logan twitch inside of you, quickly followed by warmth cutting off right before it can spurt up into you. He groans, the sound slightly pained, and his eyes screw shut. You think you can feel something nipping your skin where Logan holds you, but it goes away quickly and you’re more focused on other things.
You’re close from this only, with just a few more seconds you could come, too. And then Logan lifts you off of his lap like you weigh nothing, just to set you down onto the bed and kneel between forcibly spread legs.
You barely have time to think before Logan has his head between your thighs, his tongue flicking over your clit until your back crescents and your moans crescendo.
Logan doesn’t stop for a moment. For a torturous moment that seems to drag out, Logan continues and you think you’ll be there all night, driven to orgasm after orgasm until you're begging for him to stop, all while knowing that’s the last thing you wanted to happen.
But then he lifts his head and he’s grinning with your cum smeared on and around his mouth like varnish to a canvas.
“I’m impressed,” he compliments, climbing up your body until he’s lazily draped over you. “My expectations were already high but you’ve exceeded them.”
He kisses you once, and then stands to throw the condom away.
You thank him without much concentration. Laying next to him beneath the thin sheet he had thrown over you both and staring up at the ceiling, there’s only one thing weighing on your mind currently.
You let some time pass before you speak.
“Should we … should we go again?”
Logan smirks over at you. “You wanna go again?”
You nod, flicking your tongue over your lips. “Yeah. Just to make sure I got the character down. I don’t wanna, like, break character because I feel too good or something.”
You’re bullshitting and you know he knows, yet Logan is nodding throughout, resting his hands behind his head. “Yeah, alright.”
He throws the thin sheet off of his waist. “Then get over here. Show me what you got.”
INTERVIEW 017. LOGAN HOWLETT
murdrtober oct 2nd. massages
fed up with your constant complaints, logan offers to give you a massage
1k+ words.
MDNI 18+
“Jesus, you’re really tight, you know that?”
You groan, shifting uncomfortably against the table which is an old piece of furniture Logan found in storage.
Logan doesn’t let you get far, holding you down by your lower back.
“Uh-uh,” he tuts, the warning clear in his voice. “Do you want my help, or not?”
Your response is the way you acquiesce. You stay as pliant as possible, trying to enjoy the feeling of Logan’s big hands, slathered in oil, pressing into your limbs. He’s rough with you, almost completely merciless. There’s a bit of kindness with his actions, mostly in the way he quietly apologizes when he digs into knots in your muscles and you cry out. You can barely hear the apology he utters, but it’s there nonetheless.
He’s losing his patience, though. He can only be so kind when you’re kicking back against him, especially since you asked him to do this.
You might be a mutant, but you still ache like a human. Cracks and creaks in your bones. Fatigued muscles that tense in the middle of the night. You have outwardly complained about one too many charley horses to whoever would listen and you’ve both decided that something had to be done. Well, really, Logan decided something had to be done. Rolling his eyes, telling you that he would gladly help you out if only to put you out of your misery.
You accepted. Not only because you wanted to feel Logan’s hands on you.
Logan may be an amateur, but he knows what he’s doing.
“Almost done,” he assures. His fingertips glide up towards your ass, stopping right below the towel draped over your bottom. He trails his touch down and then repeats the path a few times. This moment is so nice that you allow yourself to get distracted.
You relax into the feeling of Logan warming up your muscles under his hands, remaining grateful for this calm before he forces you into an uncomfortable moment once more.
You’re so relaxed that you don’t question his touch. The way his fingers reach towards your inner thigh, the ghost of his digits whispering to your cunt. The hints of his intentions aren’t on your radar until the tip of his finger nudges against your folds. You jolt ever so slightly, nothing but a slight jump in your shoulders, but Logan notices it.
He apologizes under his breath, and you swear you hear a laugh in there. When you cast a glance at him over your shoulder, uncomfortably craning your neck to throw the look, he looks just as serious as he had been whenever he suggested this. His features hardened, his eyes squinted just a bit, the tip of his tongue resting between his lips.
You turn your head back and remain still.
Then starts your assumed delusions. His hands seem to be inching higher and higher, but you’re so sure that this isn’t what Logan intended that you don’t say anything. Not until you feel the tip of one of his fingers slip between your folds, coming into direct contact with the evidence of arousal that you know is there.
You don’t mean to swear, but you do. You would move, but fear of the towel falling and exposing everything hinders your movements.
“Logan?” you ask, everything you need to say woven through the call of his name.
“Just relax, alright? I wanna help you out here, too. Is that okay?”
You don’t even have to consider it. You’re nodding, preparing to lay back down when Logan tells you to roll onto your back. He gets rid of the towel, throwing it off to the side. You don’t have time to feel self-conscious about having everything laid out for Logan, he already has a hand over your knee, gently urging your legs apart, and once they’re spread to his liking, he rests one hand on your inner thigh and the other peels your folds open.
He strokes you with tenderness you hadn’t felt earlier. His touch exists solely in the tips of his fingers at first, gentle caresses over your clit and the surrounding areas, the delicate parts of his fingers slick with your own arousal instead of the massage oil he’d been using earlier.
You’re so wound up, experiencing borderline euphoria from just the languid way he’s working you up. But it’s not enough, you need more. You try to communicate this with him, but relaxation has you hexed.
Nothing but small pants leave your open mouth with moans and whines as their companions. You would rely on your body, but it’s just as useless, your legs spreading and your hips reaching for Logan. Again, he doesn’t let you get far. As soon as you arch off of the table in search of more of him—in whatever capacity he’s willing to give—he’s holding you down with a firm hand.
He doesn’t say anything. He only glances at you, but that one look is more than enough.
You’re under his control. He’s doing this to you on purpose, keeping you worked up just enough to be interested, but not enough to come. Not yet.
Logan strokes your walls with two fingers and you clench around him, an involuntary contraction. He coos down at you like he’s calming an animal.
“Relax,” he urges, his tone softer than it was earlier. “Don’t think too much about it.” You thought you weren’t thinking too much about it, afterall the only thoughts you had in your head were concerning Logan—his hair swooped over his eyebrows, the way his tanned skin shines as if he’s the one lathered in oil, the necklace he has around the thick column of his throat, no longer his dog tags but now a simple chain.
As soon as his words meet your ears, it’s like a command, and suddenly there isn’t a single thought in your head for real. You’re basically a slab of meat atop the table, under the manipulation of a man that could rightfully control you anyday.
Now, he controls your body, playing you like a well-tuned instrument, pulling melancholic sounds from your throat until you’re writhing around and clenching around his fingers, expelling fluids that add a different shine to his hands.
cage fighter logan is a self proclaimed lone wolf. he doesn't need dead weight, anyone asking about a past he doesn't remember. he travels alone, and light. but you aren't someone he travels with.
you find him, again and again, running into him no matter where he goes. and logan would be suspicious. if you spent the same amount of time asking questions as you do on your back, then logan would cut you loose. but you don't. with the two of you, it's strictly physical. and logan likes it that way.
logan doesn't care about treating you how he does because you're so eager to take it like that. you beg him to treat you like you're nothing but another one of the fighters logan faces in the ring, of course with a few differences. and he's so eager to give it to you because truthfully, he's still a man. lone wolf or not, he needs a release he can't get from drunken, over-confident patrons who challenge him.
you give him what he needs.
pressed up against his chest, curled under his chin, you submit to him. your head lolled back, your eyes closed, as logan just breathes. you've never asked him why he does it, why every single time the two of you are together, he takes time to glide his hand down your body. maybe he's taking it all in.
the feeling of your stomach rising and falling beneath the heavy press of his palm. the slope of your tits, temporarily confined beneath the top of your dress. you travel your hand with his, peeking down once or twice to see the stark difference between the sizes of you two. that becomes even more noticeable when he lines himself up with you, purposefully missing your entrance to glide the tip of his cock through your arousal, uncaring of the snail trail left behind as he lifts himself up to lay across your mound and tummy.
"look at that," he'll tell you, prompting both of you to just stare down. you know it'll fit, but it's fun to pretend that it won't. it makes the strength of how he fucks you that much better.
he likes to see you squirm and cry. he likes to pin your wrists down against the bed with his hands and do the same to your hips with his pelvis. he likes to force his cock in you over and over again, enthusiastically taking the control that you have surrendered. he tends to growl throughout, his teeth bared and sometimes sinking into your skin just enough.
it's hard for logan to remember why he doesn't like other people with him whenever you fit so well. it's hard to remember that the two of you have rarely had any conversations that weren't foreplay when you take him so well. it's nice to feel wanted like this, to always have a pretty cunt wide open for him, always ready to take whatever he'll give.
maybe logan will cave and let you tag along with him, get rid of the anticipation between meetings, allow for more spontaneity.
he’s so certain that you can take it. you’re a big girl, you’ve taken so much of him before, this really isn’t that much different. he soothes your worries and wipes away your tears so well that you can’t help but think you can take it, too.
but the uncomfortable burning of it is so strong that you’re whimpering, pushing against logan, panic settling in your face. he shakes his head, holds your face still with one hand on your jaw. and he just fixes you with this look, it’s not demanding. it’s more comforting if anything. and it works. keeps you calm and placated as the base of his cock expands and he plugs his cum in you.
ok good cause let's talk abt... stalker!logan and stalker!wade who both have their sights set on ditsy!reader who likes to walk home at night through nyc with both headphones shoved in her ears and a sweatshirt to obscure her peripheral vision
it's a little competition between the two of them to see who will strike first, and justify their creepy behavior by saying they're 'protecting the public and ensuring the safety of everyone in new york city,' even when one of them is hiding out in an alley, fisting their cock to the sight of r in their little work uniform on the way home </3
cw stalking. MDNI 18+
logan doesn't know why he let wade rope him into this. he's been letting wade rope him into a lot recently. one thing after another, and logan's starting to think his morals are weaker than he thought.
because no man with a good moral compass would agree to stalking someone, even in the name of protection.
it's what wade says, "we're keeping her safe! just making sure she doesn't get snatched up by some psycho who wants to turn her into a sex slave". and the logic was sound enough for logan at the time.
but being here now, following you down the street, logan felt more like a predator than a protector.
logan just follows you home the first few times. he's trying to stick to the good side of it all, walking a safe distance behind you, keeping his eye out for any actual predators that could pose a threat to you. he does this without wades knowledge, a little mission of his own.
but then wades leaving one night, right around the time they you get off of work, and logan's right there with him. both of them walking down the street, following your every move, up until they can't take it anymore.
for logan, the scent of you just does him in. he can smell everything-the faint essence of greasy food lingering on your clothes, your perfume remnants on your wrists, your laundry detergent, your cunt. logan doesn't know what did it for wade, knowing him, it could just be the sight of you practically skipping down the street.
but suddenly they're tucked in an alleyway right across from your house, having arrived before you and waiting for you to enter your home. their hands down their pants, their groans as muffled as they could get them, the saliva of the other used to glide their touch over their cocks.
