jays-after-hours-blog - Tumblr blog

[jays-after-hours-blog]

logan eating pussy and enjoying it a little too much (he fucks the mattress pathetically)

pairing: logan howlett x f!reader

wc: 1.3k

warnings: oral (f!receiving), NO USE OF Y/N, grinding, desperate!logan, but he's still dommy, comeplay, snowballing, scent kink sorta, logan has a weird obsession with come idk

Logan holds your gaze from the valley between your thighs, and quickly, the cliches feel understandable. Because calling his eyes hazel would be an injustice to cool fields of wheat illuminated by the massive, descending sun. To be compared to anything of Logan’s, you think, would be the height of such an overused image’s life.

But this isn’t Poetry Workshop Wednesdays at a hippie coffee shop sandwiched between a pilates studio and a Chipotle. This is what happens when Logan wakes up from a wet dream, so you keep your strange (albeit accurate) observation to yourself and close your eyes as you try to focus on the hot tongue currently spreading generous amounts of saliva along your cunt.

His voice travels to your ears like a ripple on a whipped rope: Smooth and quiet until it reaches the end of its journey with a deafening snap. Words ring in your head unintelligibly until suddenly they’re coherent.

“Let your thighs squeeze my head.”

You open your eyes, but are immediately forced to fight the heaviness of your lids when Logan starts to eat you again. It feels as if you haven’t slept in days. “What?” You say, despite knowing exactly what he said. Logan pauses sucking on your clit to clarify.

“You were squeezing my head in the dream,” Logan replies, voice hoarse. “So squeeze my head.”

You comply, but it’s weak because your bones feel about as firm and steady as a sheet of paper.

“That the best you can do?” He rasps against your cunt, hands digging into the outsides of your thighs and forcibly pushing them against his head. He returns to devouring you like an animal, wet and sloppy sucking sounds that go straight to your pussy.

The bed is creaking, and you realize it’s because he’s getting off on the mattress.

“Were you doing that in the dream, too?” You ask quietly, closing your eyes for a second.

“Doing what?” Logan says between open-mouthed kisses to your clit.

“Fucking my sheets.”

He huffs, and it’s a sound of amusement. He must have figured you were too enamored by your own bliss to notice.

“No. That didn’t happen in the dream.”

“Couldn’t help yourself, then?” You whisper.

He teases your entrance with his tongue. “It was the smell of your cum that did me in.”

“Hm?” You hum, accidentally grinding yourself on his face when you adjust your position.

He mutters a voiceless fuck, and sucks your clit again. He lifts your hips off the bed with his palms under your ass and his elbows digging into the bed, veins in his biceps rising to the surface. You love when he shows off his strength, and the insistent fluttering of your entrance tells him as much.

The periodic groans of the bed frame only grow closer together, until they might as well be in sync with your heartbeat.

He whines something short and subtle, stopping his assault on your pussy as he rests his forehead and cheek against your inner thigh and focuses on his own pleasure. His hips are writhing, legs flat against the mattress as they bend and climb and tangle in the sheets.

“Logan,” You sing-song.

“Yeah.” He doesn’t stop moving, doesn’t even look up at you. Quite the opposite: He screws his eyes shut and furrows his brows.

“You stopped eating me out.” Your own voice is breathy, arousal still clouding your mind as you mourn his mouth on your pussy.

“Mm.” He licks you shakily, briefly, as if to prove you wrong or shut you up, but it’s barely as confident or as intentional as before.

You’ve never seen him like this before. Needy, is the word. He’s needy. His muscles are rippling under his tan skin, sweat beading and glistening under the soft, warm light filtering through the curtains. Face twisted in pleasure, hair falling over his forehead, nostrils flaring.

Logan is overwhelmingly beautiful.

He continues to prop up your hips until suddenly he’s not, your lower half falling the short distance as you yelp in surprise. He mumbles a sorry, still refusing to look at you as he bucks into the bed.

You almost start to complain, but then he’s hooking two fingers into your wet cunt and curling them languidly. He’s panting, nose nudging your clit deliciously as his warm breath fans over you.

You reward him with a moan. A sharper thrust of his hips. A sloppy lick around his fingers still inside you.

“The bed can’t be that good,” You tease, although you’re in no position to because you’re just as fucked out as he is.

“It’s not the bed doing this to me. It’s your pussy.”

You shove down the whine that rises in your throat. “If that were true you’d be fucking my pussy, not the bed.”

“But then I wouldn’t be able to smell it, or—or taste it, or stare at it.”

You tilt your head back. “You’re disgusting.” The words mean absolutely nothing.

“I don’t care.” He fingers you faster. His breaths melt into quiet whines as your legs spasm around his hand.

“Are you gonna cum?”

He nods against you, small and quick.

“Do it on my pussy,” You breathe, trying to grip his shoulders but falling short and scratching him instead. The brief sting makes him moan. You’ll have to ask him about that later.

He wordlessly climbs up your body, until his mouth is mashing with yours and his cock is sliding against your cunt. He thrusts his tip against your clit as his tongue delves into your mouth, one hand holding your neck while the other rests on your hip.

“You’re not gonna put it in?” You ask, chest heaving as you tolerate—no, enjoy—the heavy weight of Logan.

“No,” He says simply, letting your folds envelop his cock as he grinds himself on your cunt. The friction on your clit is addicting, and you wonder if he’s resisting being inside of you specifically so you can have this.

You lift your head to catch his lips again, and seconds later, he comes with a cry, cum spurting on your mound and mixing with your own arousal. He doesn’t stop rubbing your clit with his cock until your fingers rake down his back and you convulse with your own orgasm.

He pulls back and sits on his knees so he can observe the mess he made. Thick fingers massage his spend into your skin, then into your hole, slow and methodical. And when he taps your inner thigh, you know what to do. You push his cum back out, relishing the dirty grin on his face when it leaks onto the rim of your asshole.

Logan bends down and licks you clean, but neglects to swallow as he sits upright again. He takes your hand and helps you up until your face is level with his. You know what’s coming. A kiss. Messy and hungry. He shares his cum with you eagerly, then pulls back an inch to watch the string of spend that connects you stretch, then snap. He practically throws himself against your mouth after that, lips moving against yours so obscenely that the sounds of the kiss are almost as loud as the sounds of him eating your pussy.

Eventually, you break the kiss with a giggle and wipe the mess on your chin.

“You’ve got a little something there,” You say, gesturing toward his glistening beard.

He quickly brushes his fingers over a small area on his jaw. “Did that take care of it?” He whispers with a twitch of a smile, playing into your joke.

“Looks like it to me.”

A/N: thank you for the request it entirely cured my writer's block!! pls reblog bc it helps and gimme more logan requests!!

[jays-after-hours-blog]

Burgeon

Logan Howlett x Reader Sex Pollen

Summary: Reader works in the science lab at the mutant academy. Trying to grow a new plant from a mutated seed they had found. When the bloom puffs a cloud into her and Logan’s face they both begin feeling strange.

CW: oral m!receiving, oral f!receiving, biting, p in v, creampie

a/n: sorry this took so long to write I was depressed :D also surprise its today

~~~

You rested your head on your hands as you watched the plant in front of you slowly yet rapidly bloom a gorgeous, wine red bud. The way the flower held itself closed mesmerized you. How small bumps decorated the stem and the leaves along it were a dark purple color.

Logan, a.k.a. The Wolverine stood next to you. Piddling with one of the enclosed flora that was under surveillance. Not all that interested in the details of your work, but enjoying spending time with you. Especially when the big blue fur ball was not around to distract you. Dusk was approaching as it shined through the greenhouse windows. A beautiful color painted the sky as the darkness of the night approached.

“Oh, Logan! Look the bud is about to bloom!” You wrapped your arm around his pulling him over to you. He groaned as you pulled him over to you. You watched closely as the petals fought each other to release. Taking their sweet time to reveal the beauty within.

“Sure is taking its time,” Logan huffed, eyes fixated on you now. Loving how happy you looked awaiting the new flowers arrival.

The petals dispersed. Revealing the most beautiful black center of the flower. A large cloud of purple dust coming out with it. Before you could say anything, you and Logan both inhaled the fumes. Covering your mouth and coughing aggressively as the pollen stuck to the inside of your mouth. You wide eyed the plant, shocked at what came out of it.

“What the hell— that thing isn’t poisonous is it?!”

“I… I don’t really know,” you meekly whispered.

“What do you mean you don’t know?”

“I mean we found this thing, noticed it was displaying some irregular behavior for a seedling of its type. And we decided to monitor it. I didn’t know it was going to cough up smoke at us!”

Logan stamped his foot. Frustrated by the lack of caring on your part. Pacing in a small circle next to you with the bridge of his nose between his fingers.

“Okay! We just have to stay here for the next 48 hours. Keep us under supervision just in case we feel any side effects. We go about our days like normal, just can’t leave the Academy,” you rubbed your hand up and down your arm. Logan irritably took a seat, head down with his hands folded over his lap. You grabbed the pod and placed it in a holding chamber all of its own. Walking over and kneeling down in front of Logan.

“I’m sorry. If I had known—“ you reached your hand out to rest it on Logan’s leg.

“You don’t have to be sorry. We can forget all about it at the party tonight. Celebrating whatever the hell Charles was on about,” Logan grinned at you.

You smiled, “I’ll celebrate anything if it means free drinks.”

Logan left the greenhouse while you finished up cleaning and double checking everything. A sudden hot flash washed over your body. Pulling a sweat from every inch of you. You fanned your hand in front of your face, your clothes feeling oddly tight suddenly. Maybe someone turned the heat up in the greenhouse. You walked over to check the thermostat. Nothing about the number had changed. As long as it was reading right you were comfortable leaving it be.

Walking up to your room. Heat engulfed you, a minor ache on your body now approaching. Choosing to ignore the problem entirely. Changing into something more comfortable for the evening ahead. Looking at yourself in the mirror when a sudden, promiscuous image flashed in your mind.

Logan.

Behind you. Both of you completely nude as he pounded into you. Watching yourself take him in the mirror. His hands splayed out on your chest, lips on your neck.

Your face flushed with your arousal. Unable to fight the feeling forming deep down inside you. Aching at your core. Leaning over your bed as you writhed.

The feeling of his hands grabbing your hips. Buried completely inside you. Your back arching to meet his thrusts. Head thrown back in pure ecstasy.

You gasped at the thought. Unsure of what was happening to you. Uncontrollably desire was taking over your body. Your hand found your aching core in an attempt to cool yourself down. Scrunching up your face at the feeling. It felt good, but not right. It was not what you needed. You needed him.

Your face was completely flushed with thoughts of Logan. Trying your hardest to make it less noticeable before going downstairs.

“Just stop,” you told yourself.

Heading down to the common area where all your fellow teachers had gathered. An adults only party, all the students were off away. You smiled as you greeted your fellow mutants. Getting stopped by Hank. His warm smile and soft eyes pulling your attention to him.

“Hi, Hank,” you smiled as you walked over to him.

“Hello, beautiful,” Hank grinned, fangs decorating his bright white smile. You thought about how his teeth would feel against your neck. Blushing at the idea of the large monster on top of you. Your thoughts suddenly morphing to fit Logan into your fantasy. Fangs nipping at your skin as strong hands held yours above your head. Panting as he thrusted into you. Sweat dripping down his forehead.

“Everything going good with that mysterious plant of yours?” Hank questioned, breaking your fantasy.

“Uh— Yeah, kinda. It bloomed today but some purple pollen came out it. Not sure if that’ll have any effect on me,” you droned off as you saw Logan enter the room. Completely fixated on him now. Seeing his bulging muscles revealed by his tank top. His broad shoulders and strong brow bone indicating he was some form of frustrated. His eyes finally caught yours. Awkwardly you turned back to focus on Hank as you continued on about the beauty of the mysterious flower. Unable to keep Logan in your peripheral. Excusing yourself from the conversation. Walking into a corner so you could scan the entire room. Unable to spot Logan anywhere.

Muscular arms wrapped around your waist. Almost calming the burn trickling down your nervous system. Nose finding its place in the crook of your neck, taking a deep inhale. Your hands meeting those around you, feeling the veins popping out. Smell of musk and cologne overwhelming your senses.

A silent feeling that he understood exactly what you were going through.

“Smells so good,” his gruff, low voice rang in your ear. Your head leaning back against his shoulder, eyes straining to look at him. Black eyes stared at you. Pulling you flush against him, his semi-hard cock pressed into you. Chills ran up you. Rolling your hips to grind against him. A low groan, almost a growl, vibrated against your ear.

Hands inched down closer to the place you ached most. Fingers grazing the sweet spot causing you to arch backwards slightly. Circling your mound as his eyes scanned the room.

“Everyone is in here,” you whispered, a soft moan on your tone.

“I know,” he grumbled, kissing below your ear.

Both of you silently enjoyed the feeling of your bodies pressed together for a moment. How perfectly your body melted to his front. How the smell of him sent goosebumps down your body. The sound of his breathing in your ear pooling inside you.

“Saw you over there with furrball. He not tickling your fancy tonight?” Logan’s fingers dug into your skin, a hint of jealousy on his tone.

“No,” you simply said.

“Haven’t been able to stop thinking about you,” Logan groaned into your ear, “I could smell you from my fucking room. Need to rip these clothes off and get inside you right now.”

You choked on air. Realizing Logan was having the same feelings you were. Unsatisfiable desire.

“Didn’t matter how fucking good my hand felt, wasn’t right. It wasn’t you,” he purred. His fingers danced along the line of your pants, daring to dip under your clothes. Feeling your pantyline against his fingers, the softness of the lace continuing his desire. Your hand met his, intertwining fingers with him. Looking over your shoulder to meet his gaze. Lust blown eyes stared into yours. He plotted an escape route to make sure none of your coworkers watched you slip away together. Grabbing your hand and dragging you behind him.

His touch tingled against your skin. Your sensitive body being thrown into overdrive as you headed down the hallway together. Pulling you into a stairwell and turning to face you. His entire face was red, sweat beaming down his brow. You blushed. Eyes locked together, blown pupils matching each other.

“Dunno if I can wait much longer,” Logan growled as he palmed at himself through his jeans. You fell to your knees instinctively. Tugging at his belt, pulling a deep sigh from him. Releasing his fully erect cock from its confides. It sprung up, tip swollen and leaking. A thick vein wrapped around the underside. You felt your pussy clench around nothing, your mouth salivating at the sight of him. Doed eyes stared up at him, your hand grasping around his member. Lips pressing against the tip in a kiss. Logan moaned at your touch. His fingers tangled in your hair as he guided you down on him. Choking around his girth.

“That’s it,” Logan praised as he lead you up and down on his cock. Hollowing out your cheeks to take him all the way. Tears pricked at the corner of your eyes, fighting off your urge to gag. Feeling him twitch in your mouth, knowing it would not take long for you to get him there.

Logan’s eyes squinted shut as he finished in your mouth. A grunt as he held you in place. “It’s not enough,” he moaned. Eyebrows knitted together as he looked down at you. Reaching a hand down to help you up, “I need to be inside you.”

His words melted into your core. Igniting a primal feeling in you. You wrapped your hand around Logan’s leading him up the stairs.

“My room’s closer,” you answered the question you knew he was silently asking himself. A grin painted his face as he watched your ass bounce going up the stairs.

Hurriedly typing your code to access your room. Logan’s fingers rubbed circles on your core through your clothes. You arched your back into him, feeling his still completely erect dick. “‘M gonna fuck you so good, doll,” Logan purred in your ear pulling at the button on your pants. You bit your lip finally getting the door open. Logan practically shoved you inside.

Attaching his lips to yours immediately, hands cupping both sides of your face. His tongue penetrating your mouth as your teeth clinked together. You hooked your fingers under his tank top, pulling it over his head. His hairy, muscular chest was completely drenched in sweat. His lips attached onto your neck, tongue coming out to lick a stripe up your sensitive skin. “What’s going on with us?” Logan asked against your skin.

“I’dunno,” you moaned when his teeth grazed a spot you liked, “I just want you.” He smiled at your response.

Logan pushed you onto your back on the bed. Ripping your pants and panties off you. A gasp fell from you. “You’ve got plenty more,” he growled as he kneeled at the side of your bed. Pulling you so that he was directly in front of your core. Soaking the blanket underneath you as arousal took over every sense you had. Logan chuckled as he lapped at your core, “Tastes so good.” You arched your back off the bed at the sudden contact. Pushing yourself closer into his mouth. Furrowing your brows because — GOD — he felt good, but it just was not enough to cool the fire inside you. Grinding yourself against his face trying your damndest to reach your high. Logan latched onto you like an animal devouring his last meal. Fingers digging into your thighs, bruising the soft skin there. Hooded eyes stared up at your face admiring how you scrunched up your nose and hung your mouth open. The soft moans and squeaks pouring from your mouth like music to his ears. He rolled his hips into the side of the mattress, desperate to fuck you. But more desperate to get you off first.

Your nails dug into the soft blanket below you. Riding his tongue through your orgasm. Body jolting and legs shaking. His name a scream on your lips. Logan pulled away, his face soaked in your juices. Dropping his pants to the floor. He stroked himself as he stared at your entrance. Your body still basking in the afterglow of orgasm. Logan pounced on top of you. Gently removing your top, lips finding their place on your exposed breasts. Biting through the fabric of your bra to play with your nipples. Licking and sucking the thin material. His hand pinched at the opposite one. Lips dancing up your neck, biting at your jaw.

Rolling his exposed cock into your soaked entrance. The first bit of relief you had felt all day. A shaky moan escaping you. Logan smirked above you, leaning his head back feeling how your body begged for him. Sliding his member through your slit, collecting all your wetness on him. “My pretty girl,” he praised, “I’m gonna fill you up to the goddamn hilt.”

Easing his way into you. Your walls practically pulling him in. Both of you moaned in harmony, throwing your heads back. “That’s more like it,” he cooed. Easy himself back before slamming back in. Setting himself at a brutal pace. The sound of skin smacking together filled the room. He panted above you, keeping his eyes locked on yours.

You leaned forward to catch him in a kiss, Logan’s body slouching so that your front were pressed firmly together. Curving his arms under you, holding you tight as he fucked into you. A huff of breath falling from him with each snap of hips. He held you close, lips pressed against your neck. An occasional kiss being planted there. “You take cock so well. I’m gonna fuck you stupid,” he growled against your skin.

You clawed at his back. Desperate to hold him closer. Scratching down his body, pulling a moan from him. His pace was growing sloppy as he approached his own high. Your pussy still sensitive from your own. Walls clenching when he’d hit deep inside you. “Gonna be so full of me aren’t you? Little cum slut,” Logan grunted with each of his thrusts.

Logan attached his lips back to yours desperately panting and moaning as he felt himself about to finish. Sheathing himself fully inside you as he shot his seed. The feeling of him soothed the burn you had been feeling. Relieved by how perfectly he filled you up. You felt him grin against your skin, slumping all his body weight into you momentarily.

“Could stay like this all night,” he whispered in your ear. You petted his back, kissing him on the cheek.

“Yeah?”

“That way I can already be inside you when I feel like I gotta soothe the feeling again,” Logan playfully bit at your cheek.

~

[END]

// Thank you so much for reading! I know this fic has been a long time coming so I hope it was a great read! I plan on writing quite a lot for the month of October, so if you have any requests send them my way! My next Logan fic is gonna be a Werewolf!AU //

{tags}

@toogaytofunctiondangit ~ @goodness-gracious13 ~ @figsnpassionfruits ~ @gretavankleep37 ~ @shinysam29 ~ @sunnyfranc ~ @savy-luvs-dilfs ~ @ayamenimthiriel ~ @megangovier ~ @its-in-the-woods ~ @father-of-2cats ~ @atthediscowithoutpanic ~

[jays-after-hours-blog]

I’m so sad… time for an x reader fan fiction

[jays-after-hours-blog]

james mcavoy had absolutely no right to be so fucking hot while playing a psychopathic murderer-kidnapper

[jays-after-hours-blog]

Stand By Me : A Darry Curtis Fic

Set during/after the events of The Outsiders, the story of how Darry Curtis falls in love and realizes he deserves it <3 Some angst, but always a happy ending. Not sure how many parts this will be, I've got a lot of ideas so it could go a while!

No use of y/n, told in second person POV. Comment to be added to the tag list!

TW (will update as story goes on): parent with gambling and drinking issues, mild violence (less than the book), swearing from our greasers

Part One

The radio plays The Four Tops and you turn it up a little louder.

You finish stuffing another roll of quarters and bend the edges so they stay shut. Mr. Murphy, the owner of the general store you work at, doesn’t let just anyone roll up the change – you’ve earned it, like you earned his trust.

You started working at Murphy’s General Store on weekends at fourteen when your mom ran off and your dad was spending his paycheck at the pool hall instead of filling the refrigerator. Once you finished high school, it turned to six days a week – every day except Sunday. Nobody really worked on Sunday. It was supposed to be a day of rest, but it was usually the day you could clean the house.

Today was Tuesday, and it felt far from Sunday, but you didn’t mind. The windows were open and a cool autumn breeze was coming through. Summers could be brutal in Tulsa, you weren’t sad to see it end.

The bells hanging over the front door give a jingle and you glance up to see Darrel Curtis walk through. He looks for you, gives you a small smile and then heads back towards the medical supplies. Darrel was always buying bandages or aspirin or ointment; you knew of his brothers and his friends and imagined someone always needed a bit of patching up in the Curtis house.

You subtly tried to check your reflection in the front windows, smoothing down your hair and adjusting the nametag on your dress. It was silly: Darrel had been coming in the store for years, more so now since his parents passed and besides being polite, he had never used a pickup line or any sort of flirting with you.

He used to smile more when he would come in with his football friends from the West Side of town, or with his parents or brothers. But not in the last eight months – every time you see him, he looks a little more tired, a little more worried. You wish you could talk to him; tell him you understand somewhat what it’s like to grow up too fast and wish so hard life had been different. But Darrel never seemed in the mood for small talk, let alone deep conversations, so you didn’t push.

He brings an assortment of medical supplies, packs of cigarettes, a six pack of beer and some lined paper and pencils to the check-out counter and you enter most of the prices into the register by memory. You take out a brown paper bag to put everything in and his hand reaches out.

“I can do it.” His voice, on the rare times you get to hear it, always made you feel a little warm.

“It’s alright, it’s my job.” You put the beer in the bag first since it was the heaviest, and you weren’t surprised when he started helping with the other items. You tell him his total and when you give him his change your soft hand brushes his rough one. You look up into his eyes and give a small smile.

“Thanks,” he says and for the first time in a few months, he holds your gaze.

“You’re welcome.” He gives you a nod and heads out and you don’t realize you are staring until the bell over the door jingles again with a group of teenagers.

The general store was in the middle of town, you saw everyone from Greasers to Socs and you tried to keep your head down and stay out of it all. You grew up on the East Side, poor like everyone else in your neighborhood, but you did alright in school and was in advanced classes that had you right next to the rich kids of Tulsa. You weren’t popular, but you weren’t an outcast; you had a few friends but working and taking care of your father always got in the way of really being a teenager.

Sometimes, late at night when the scary thoughts seemed to settle in, you wonder if this was going be the rest of your life: work at the store, take care of daddy, pay the bills, cook, clean and repeat. You were a few months away from turning twenty and you had never been in love, never done anything beyond a few innocent kisses.

You would remind yourself it wasn’t any use getting worked up about, plenty of people had it far worse. But sometimes you would wonder, what if…

---

A few days later, Darrel’s youngest brother’s face is all over the papers next to Johnny Cade’s, labelling them as dangerous criminals on the run for killing a Soc kid. They used Ponyboy’s school picture- he was barely 14, how could he be mixed up in all of this? The paper told a story of two hot head and dangerous Greasers murdering a nice boy from the West Side in cold blood.

But it didn’t sit right with you. You just knew it couldn’t be true, it had to be an accident, or something more had happened. You thought about it all through your shift, and then again when you were home picking empty beer bottles off the floor and cooking hamburgers for your father.

“Dad,” you try to shake him from where he was passed out on the couch. “Dad, there’s dinner on the table.”

“Breakfast?” He groaned, rolling over. He was still in the clothes he went out in from the previous night. You had taken his shoes off in the morning before you left for work so they wouldn’t dirty the couch.

“No Dad, it’s dinnertime. I got off work an hour ago. Here,” you hand him water and two aspirin. He downs both with practiced ease.

The night goes on as usual, you clean up dinner and tidy the house, while your dad takes a shower then heads out to the pool hall. Your company is the radio, softly playing in the living room while you patch a small hole in your favorite skirt. The Supremes sing about not hurrying love and your mind wonders to Darrel Curtis and how he’s handling everything.

--

Three days later Darrel comes into the general store, looking worse than when you saw him after his parents passed. It’s just the two of you, nearly closing time, and everyone else has done their shopping for the day.

He doesn’t make eye contact with you as he puts the beer and cigarettes on the counter and digs in his pocket for his wallet. You know you shouldn’t bring it up, it’s really none of your business even if the paper is trying to make it the whole town’s business. But you can’t stop yourself from asking:

“How are you doing Darrel?”

His head snaps up, eyes wary. You realize he’s read the same papers you have, he’s well aware of what they are saying about his brother and you rush to explain why you’re asking.

“I know Ponyboy and Johnny, not well, but they come in the store sometimes and they are sweet boys. Even when they are with Dallas Winston, who is always a little mouthy, or Two-bit who is always trying to swipe something, they stay sweet and out of too much trouble. I don’t think they did this at all.” It all comes rushing out of you and you know you’re starting to turn a faint shade of pink, but Darrel’s expression softens.

“They still haven’t found ‘em. Part of me doesn’t want them to, if what they are saying is true. But thinking of them out there…” he trails off and rubs the back of his neck, looking up, then back at you. “Sorry. I shouldn’t be talking about it.”

“I was the one who asked.” You say with a shrug. “And you still didn’t answer on how you were.” He doesn’t quite smile, but it’s almost close.

“Not so good.”

And maybe it was the honesty you weren’t expecting, or maybe it’s how his voice breaks a little on the word ‘good’, but you reach out and take his hand. That feeling from the other day is back, warmer this time and after a second, he holds your hand a little tighter.

“He’ll be okay,” you say, holding Darrel’s gaze. “I’ve said about a hundred prayers for him and Johnny already.” At this, he does start to smile, and you notice a deep dimple in his right cheek.

“You mind throwing in one for me too?”

“Sure,” You squeeze his hand again before having to let go to get his change. He glances at the clock hanging over the register.

“Y’all close soon, right?”

“In a few minutes. I did most of my chores already so I just have to lock everything up since the stock boy called out tonight.”

“You walk here?” You nod. “Let me give you a ride home. It’s getting rougher out there.” You open your mouth to protest, but he gives a pleading look. “Please.”

“Alright. I’ll only be a few minutes if you want to wait outside.” He nods and takes his bag out to the car while you try to take a few breaths as a you turn off the lights and get the keys for the front doors.

You go out the back door and when you walk around the building you see him leaning against the passenger side of his old truck. As you get closer he opens the door for you and you slide in.

He gets in, turns the ignition and you start driving towards the East Side. It’s quiet without the radio on and at first you can’t think of what to say, but he speaks first.

“Thank you, for what you said. About Pony and Johnny. They are good boys, they’re just…” he trails off.

“Mixed up in something awful. I’m sorry y’all have to go through it, I don’t have any siblings but I can’t even imagine.” You look out the side window to see a stray cat wandering down the road. You quietly tell him where to turn and he nods, pulling in front of the old, run down house.

“Do you work every day?” Darrel asks. You nod.

“Every day except Sunday. Mostly the morning and afternoon shifts, but twice a week I close up too.”

“That’s a lot of shifts,” he says and you glance up at the house where a dim light shines from the front room. If you don’t bring home the money, those lights would be dark. You learned that at fourteen years old.

“It’s not that bad. Mr. Murphy is about the best boss you can ask for. And it’s a job, and better than the ones some people have to do.”

“You see the good in everything?” he asks skeptically and you let out a small laugh.

“Not always. But I try to.” He’s looking into your eyes now, really looking. “It makes living a bit easier when you do.”

“Maybe I’ll try it sometime.” His voice is a little deeper, and it makes your head feel lighter. You know you need to leave the truck before you say something even crazier than you already have, even though leaving the truck is about the last thing you want to do.

“Thanks for the ride Darrel.”

“Darry.” He corrects and you raise your eyebrows. “You can call me Darry.”

“Alright. Darry.”

[jays-after-hours-blog]

Space

Summary: Darry and Reader argue, so Reader gives Darry space, but Darry misses Reader’s presence

Contains: Darry x Reader, no use of y/n, reader’s gender is unspecified

Warnings: Mentions of arguing/fighting, Reader is called sweetheart, Reader has one specific/explicit line of dialogue, maybe one uncharacteristic line from Darry, bittersweet stuff

Prompts: “person a being mad at person b, so person b gives them some alone time. only to find person a trying to drag them back to bed bc they miss person b’s presence.” (@/keyotosprompts)

Requested? No

A/N: This has been in my drafts for a little while cuz I wasn't sure on if I should post it, enjoy :) It's short, mb

You and Darry had gotten into a bit of a disagreement, and it got a bit heated because he was already stressed and sore from work and he kind of just took out said aggression on you and the disagreement you had. Because of this, you had come to the decision to just leave Darry alone to give him time to cool off and destress, and went for a walk around town for a bit, also taking it as an excuse to run a few errands.

Once you finally came back, you set down a bag or two of groceries you had gotten while out onto the kitchen counter, and began to unpack them. The house was almost unnaturally quiet. It was the evening. Sodapop was on a date with Sandy and Ponyboy was out at the movies with some of the gang, but you weren’t sure on where Darry was.

You heard footsteps behind you and turned your head when you suddenly felt a pair of arms wrap around your waist from behind. It was Darry.

“’M sorry about earlier, sweetheart. . .” He murmured.

“I thought you wanted some space.?” You asked, pausing in your unpacking of the groceries.

“I don’t need space, I need you.” He replied, huffing out a big, tired, and heavy exhale of breath against your skin.

You had finished unpacking the groceries in a few minutes, with the help of Darry, and you were now sat down on the couch while Darry was sitting in his chair.

Your disagreement from earlier had been over something trivial; Ponyboy’s grades. Ponyboy had gotten a B- on his latest assignment in math and Darry wasn’t too proud of him. You knew that Darry was only wanting the best for Ponyboy, but he was also trying too hard to make something out of him. You had defended Ponyboy and said some version of that it was just a B- and Ponyboy has his own strengths in certain subjects and weaknesses in others, but Darry still got frustrated about it. He had hollered at Ponyboy some, and was awfully stern with you, saying, “He’s my kid brother and I can be as harsh to him as I want to!”

After the fact, it was now a bit awkward; quiet. You were kind of just waiting for Ponyboy and Sodapop to come home so you could all go to bed and relax for the night.

Within the next little while, Ponyboy and Sodapop had come home, walking through the door and chatting for a bit. Soda and Ponyboy went to their room for the night a bit after and you guys did the same. Darry was lying in bed behind you, one of his big, muscular arms draped over your waist, his body close to yours.

“I know I can be a bit harsh on Pony. I just want the best for him and I want him to do good.” Darry murmured to you out of the blue. You knew he wasn’t very emotional, and he also didn’t apologize too much, so this really was out of the blue. “Just. . . Whenever we fight, don’t assume I want to be alone after..” He let out a sigh, subconsciously holding you a little bit closer under the covers.

[jays-after-hours-blog]

Logan would totally be a human furnace.

Imagine cold harsh New York winters at the mansion, sitting on the sofa with logan your feet shoved under his thigh keeping your constantly icy cold toes warm for a moment.

Winter nights you’d need the window open to keep the room frosty, another excuse to squeeze closer to logan to keep warm through the night. Walking around the city, your hands clad with gloves yet still freezing. Grabbing Logan’s hands to hold yours warming them up instantly.

Not like Logan would mind this at all, any excuse to hold or to touch you. Autumn and winter were his favorite seasons because you never left his side. He was like your own personal furnace, and logan would swoon over the fact you practically needed him.

[jays-after-hours-blog]

sitting on logan’s lap and being called baby and princess and getting a few forehead and neck kisses by him would genuinely fix me

[jays-after-hours-blog]

old man!logan x reader

just shut your mouth.

i think you’re the sweetest guy in the world

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J. A. Y. Z. U. S. H. C. A. R. I. S. T. 🔥♥️💋

My apologies to @bil-daddy for lusting after @mrazfellco 🔥🔥🔥

[jays-after-hours-blog]

Happy 55th birthday to our feral, light and fluffy, serious actor and truly just the nicest person: Michael Sheen!!

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just imagine waking up next to him, the sheets in disarray and his sleeping face... a dream.

[jays-after-hours-blog]

worst logan gets a taste of everything he's been missing and can't get enough.

warnings: 18+, MINORS DNI, fem!reader, pussy eating, overstimulation, fingering, desperate logan

You never could have predicted this is how Logan would be. The “worst” Logan as they called him, was nothing but foul mouthed, angry, and drunk. At least he was when you met him. You never would have thought he could be this desperate, this needy. Craving touch he had missed for so many years.

“Logan,” You sigh as you tilt your head back.

You're laying in his bed, hands gripping at his pillows. He has you pinned to the bed. He couldn't hold back his crazy strength if he tried. He was too far gone. His head buried in your thighs. Legs pushed apart by his wide shoulders, a dull ache in your thighs as he stretches them a little more.

"Fuck you're hot." Logan mumbles against your thigh.

For the last...who fucking knows how long anymore, he's been feasting. His tongue lazily lapping at your cunt. No matter how much he drinks he just can't get enough. His hands lay on your stomach, pinning you down from squirming.

This is his breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Your hips buck as his tongue traces your poor, sore clit. His beard brushing up against it. Your eyes widen as he growls, actually growls.

"Come on baby, be nice and let me eat your pussy." You moan loudly as he dives back in. You watch his back muscles move as he gets up on his knees, pushing your thighs apart as he buries his tongue inside of you. You're too wrapped up in pleasure to feel his fingers drift down.

"Nice and wet for me." Logan says in awe as he slips two fingers in with ease.

"Fuck!" You hiss as you try to move your hips.

He's overloading your senses. His hands, his tongue, even the fucking pillows smell like him. He's invading every little bit of your mind. Logan tightens his grip on you, pulling you closer to his face if that was even possible.

"Just a little more baby, please I need to taste you." Your hands reach for his wrist. Digging your nails deep into his skin.

"Perfect, fuck your perfect." He stands a little taller on his knees as he starts to piston his fingers harder. Absolutely obscene noises fill the room as he laps up every drop that spills from your pussy. His other thumb puts pressure on your clit, moving back and forth in a tight but brutal pace.

"Logan please-oh fuck- I can't!" His eyes are blown wide with lust as he stares at your face. Taking joy in watching you fight the pleasure he's giving you. He lifts his face and licks his lips. Messy beard and wet lips.

"Come for me one more time." He purrs.

“Just let that pretty head of yours stop thinking.” He kisses down your legs. He purrs as you reach and grab his hair.

“That’s it baby,” Your mind melts as you let go of any thought as Logan brings you over the edge. He takes his fingers out, licking them clean before dipping back down to work you through your orgasm.

His arms wrapping around you waist as you squirm and shake below him. Logan coos sweet nothings as he kisses along your body. Your grip on his sheets loosen as your body shakes. Nothing but pure, blissful pleasure fills your body but so does exhaustion. You gasp loudly as you feel Logan’s tongue lick up your cunt again.

“Just a little more please baby, please.” He begs desperately. “Just a little longer,” You lay your head back onto the pillows, a smile on your face as you nod your head.

“Fuck you’re perfect,” He purrs, a soft look in his eyes as he dives back down into your cunt.

“My perfect girl.”

[jays-after-hours-blog]

Finally saw Strange Darling

Really fucking good. My only complaint was the soundtrack. There’s a breathy indie girl tinkling a toy piano and whining every single fucking track, except for love hurts, which was already an annoying song. It’s the worst of the Everly Brothers and the worst of the Halloween remake songs. Why the fuck did rob zombie put it in Halloween AND Halloween 2? I don’t fucking get it. I was in manhattan this weekend and tried a drink called a rob zombie at a gay bar called the Cock. It was three different kinds of rum, a splash of pineapple juice, some grenadine blood splatter, and then it aaaall falls apart about halfway through you finishing it leaving you sallow and disappointed by the whole ordeal.

[jays-after-hours-blog]

Ok idk if this is to much but can I request Juice Ortiz with Line 24, and then L and M (🔥🔥)? Thank you!!

Tension.

juice ortiz x teller!female reader

warnings - sexual content. cursing.

24. “You like it when I’m mean to you?” & l. Keeping the relationship a secret & m. Catching eyes across a crowded room.

written for my 5k celebration - post here, masterlist here, inbox here.

It’s risky and you know it.

But you just can’t keep your eyes off of Juice Ortiz.

It’s your average Friday night at the Teller Morrow Garage. Everyone’s drinking, smoking, laughing as Tig tells a horribly inappropriate joke. Your brother is sitting at a table with Chibs and Happy, discussing some sort of club business that you frankly don’t really care about.

You turn back to the bar, sipping on your drink and taking a deep breath. You spin on your stool to scan the room again, and catch eyes with the one man you’ve been watching like a hawk. Juice.

He raises his eyebrows at you, winking cheekily before breaking out into a grin. You shake your head, but can’t help but smile.

He looks good. Better than usual. You’re not sure what it is - maybe it’s the tight black t shirt, maybe it’s the tattoos that are peeking through, maybe it’s the cocky smirk that seems to be permanently etched on his face.

You know the both of you will be in so much trouble if your brother finds out. It’ll be bad for club dynamics, bad for your family’s dynamic. But maybe it’s the risk that makes it that much hotter.

He looks at you, the bathroom door, then back at you. You get the message instantly, nodding gently before watching him get up and make his way in that direction.

You give it a few agonisingly long minutes before you slip off your stool, glancing around to check no one has noticed. When you get to the bathroom, he opens the door and pulls you inside, slamming you against the wood.

“Here she is. My pretty whore.”

Your breath catches, gazing at him with blown pupils.

“Don’t call me that,” you choke out, with less conviction than you would have liked.

“Why not, hmm? You’ve been staring at me with your fuck me eyes for the last couple of hours. You think I don’t know what you’re doing?”

He chuckles, leaning in to nip at your neck, arms winding around your back to hold you against him.

“You’re pathetic, baby,” he mumbles against your skin. When you shudder, he laughs almost cruelly. “Oh, honey. You like it when I’m mean to you?”

You shake your head, and he moves a hand to wind around your throat, squeezing gently. You change your answer and nod, knees going weak.

“Here’s the deal,” he drawls into your ear, all low and honeyed. “If you can keep your filthy thoughts off your face for the rest of the night, I’ll take you home later and fuck you the way you want.”

You whine, hands tangling into the back of his shirt.

“That means no fuck me eyes, no lip biting… none of that shit. You hear me?”

You nod, leaning forward to rest your head on his chest.

“You’re gonna get us caught, baby. We’ve got to be more careful.”

You lean up to press a kiss to his lips, tasting beer and cigarette smoke.

“Okay. Deal.”

He smiles at you gently before kissing you again.

“I’m gonna go out first. Wait a while, okay?”

He slips out the door and back to the guys, praying that no one has noticed either of your absences.

You rest your head against the wood and take a deep breath, body thrumming with the anticipation of what’s to come.

[jays-after-hours-blog]

Logan howlett x f!reader where they’re both training, and the reader tries to get some hits on Logan but he’s literally made of metal, and the reader gets hurt in the process.

training with logan was always the highlight of your day. despite having failed miserably to get any hits on him, you always tried your best. logan would sometimes purposefully act like he got hurt badly just to make you feel a little better

"c'mon bub, you suck at this!" he yelled out, teasing you. "let me concentrate, logan." you said, trying to focus on finding his weak spots as the banter went on between you two, logan managed to get a hit on you. his claws ripped into the flesh of your shoulder, causing a horrible injury. "oh, fuck!" he shouted, nervous about the damage he'd done to you. "n-no 'ts fine lo... im alright..." "i'm so fucking sorry, bub. i didn't think i'd hurt you that badly. fucking hell." he hurried around, picking you up and taking you to jean tears kept pouring out of your eyes as you clung tightly to logan. he kissed your forehead reassuring you that everything would be alright, while repeatedly apologizing. he finally dropped you off at the medical lab, making damn sure you were well taken care of.

you woke up to find stitches on your shoulder and logan sitting right next to your bed. "feelin' better, bub? want me to kiss it?" he said playfully. you giggled at his words, then nodded and allowed him to place a gentle kiss on your shoulder.

divider by : pommecita

[jays-after-hours-blog]

𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐔𝐌𝐄’𝐒 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐌𝐄 𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐎𝐌.

logan howlett x fem!reader

summary: the scent of you is driving logan crazy.

contains: mild 18+ content. MINORS DNI. mentions of masturbation (m&f), a steamy little make out, and implications of future smut

word count: 1.8k

a/n: not me trying to capitalize off the hugh jackman renaissance and revive my dead blog…anyways, this is my first time writing for logan! hope you all enjoy <3

i feel like we don’t talk enough about logan’s enhanced sense of smell.

the man can catch a whiff of someone the second they walk into the room, even the building sometimes if their scent is strong enough. it’s especially heightened when he realizes he’s attracted to you. at first he thought maybe it was because you were always wearing perfume, the aroma lingering around the mansion wherever you traveled. but then it became such an intense, all encompassing sensation that he knew it was something deeper.

his suspicions are confirmed one night as he walks past your room. if the faint whimpers he heard weren't enough confirmation of your activities, then the scent that fills his nostrils seals the deal.

you’re touching yourself. and he can smell your arousal.

it makes something stir in his stomach. the animal-like urges he always tries so hard to keep at bay threaten to make their way to the surface the longer he stands frozen in the hallway. logan attempts to shake the heat that spreads across his skin as he makes his way back to his own room, but it only ends with him cumming hard into his hand an hour later.

the next day, when he catches you on your way out of charles’ office, you offer him the same kind, beaming smile you always did. then that damned smell fills his nostrils again and his fists curl at his sides once you’re out of eyesight.

there’s only one explanation for it.

you’re ovulating.

which means there’s no escaping his desires unless you stay out of reach.

so for his sake and yours, he decides to just avoid you completely until the week is over. he can’t risk caving to those urges and doing something stupid and irrational.

of course you’re completely oblivious to it. you think that he’s just being weird, going through another rut of being a standoffish loner like he was when he first arrived at the mansion. because after about a week, he’s back to being a bit friendlier, to being the logan you had grown to call a close friend.

then the cycle seems to repeat itself and you notice it’s just you he’s avoiding.

you try and wrack your brain to think of anything you could’ve done to warrant this kind of isolation. you hoped if something upset logan he would just talk to you about it instead of playing this childish game of hot and cold.

after a couple months, you decide you’ve had enough.

cornering him was a difficult task. but you were observant enough to know certain parts of his routine, including exactly when he would be lingering in the common areas after all the kids had gone to sleep. after two failed attempts of trying to catch him in the kitchen, you finally managed to find him alone and unsuspecting.

“why have you been avoiding me?” you blurt, wanting to cut right to the chase. you’re expecting him to flinch a little bit, perhaps even be stunned.

but he knew you were coming. logan knew it was only a matter of time before you noticed his schtick.

still, he decides to look for an excuse, any excuse, to cover up the real reason.

“m’not avoiding you” he grumbles halfheartedly around the rim of a beer bottle. taking an extra long swig, he finally turns to look at you; leaning against the doorway with your arms folded and a look akin to annoyance plastered across your pretty face.

you cock your head to the side, clearly unimpressed with his answer.

“a few days ago, i watched you back out of a room the minute you realized i was in it,” you start to list off, counting with your fingers. “last month you avoided the wing where the gym was altogether while i was going through a new training regimen.”

logan winces at the memory. the scent of your pheromones was intoxicating. so much so that he couldn’t step foot anywhere near the gym without feeling like he needed to rub one out.

“and the month before that,” you huff out a sad laugh, voice suddenly soft and quiet. “you didn’t even say goodbye before you went off on that mission with scott and jean.”

guilt overtakes him quickly at the pain in your tone.

you’ve never looked smaller as you pick at a loose thread on your sweatpants. “did i do something wrong?”

“no,” logan reassures, jumping out of his seat at record speed, though still trying to maintain some distance. “you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“then what is it? you sigh exasperatedly, desperate to put an end to this nagging feeling that’s been eating away at you. “logan, you know if something’s bothering you, you can tell me.”

and he wants to. he so badly wants to, maybe even see if you’ll offer to help him out. but you’re you. the sweetest, kindest thing he’s ever known and he’ll be damned if he lets his curse of a mutation ruin whatever relationship the two of you have.

but then you’re inching closer and his skin starts buzzing again. his senses are consumed by you. by the way you look up at him with big, wide eyes, the softness of your skin as you reach to place a comforting hand on his forearm. it's all too much, and he finds himself pulling away from you with a grunt.

it hurts to see him retreat from you so aggressively. his jaw is clenched tight, his fists at his sides even tighter as the veins in his arms bulge bigger than you’ve ever seen before. he looks pained. like he’s fighting something internally.

“logan,” you approach him cautiously, unsure of what exactly to do. “what’s going on?”

his eyes squeeze shut at the sound of your voice. “just, please go back to your room.”

“i’m not leaving you like this.”

“m’not asking you,” he grits out, almost like a growl. “i’m telling you. go back to your room.”

now he was starting to piss you off. you narrow your eyes, leaning your hip against the counter.

“or what?”

suddenly he’s crowding your space, chest heaving up and down as he stares at you with pupils so wide his eyes are nearly black. logan’s voice is scarily level when he utters his final warning.

“or i’m gonna do something i regret.”

when you shift closer to him, his nose twitches with a sniff. the raise of your brow doesn’t go unnoticed, and he knows that you’re not leaving this room until you get to the bottom of what he’s been hiding.

that’s when something inside logan decides to throw caution to the wind, just for a minute.

“i can smell you.”

curiosity morphs into confusion at his admission. you shake your head.

“i don’t understand.”

then, the man’s gaze travels to the waistband of your pajama pants, the tension in his jaw growing more taught by the second. his hands flex at his sides, trying to keep him grounded and calm as he finally admits what’s been driving him mad.

“i can smell you.”

the emphasis on the last word takes a minute to register. logan watches as the gears turn behind your eyes, catches the exact moment of realization as your gaze softens and your lips part.

oh.

oh.

slowly things start to piece together. how logan’s behavior seemed to fall around the same time these past couple months. a few weeks before your cycle.

he wasn’t avoiding you because he was angry, or upset. he was avoiding you because you were fucking ovulating.

logan expects you to flee, to be completely weirded out and steer clear of him for the foreseeable future. what he’s not expecting, is the words that come out of your mouth.

“i can help you with that if you want.”

you say it with such nonchalance, such casualness that he wonders if you’re even really grasping what you’ve said.

the wolverine shakes his head. “trust me, you don’t want this.”

he doesn’t quite believe his own words as he watches you close the distance between your bodies. something you’ve been desperate to do for as long as you can remember.

the thin fabric of his tank top and the soft cotton of your t-shirt is the only thing standing between you both. your chests are mere centimeters from touching and logan can feel the heat radiating from your bodies as his confession hangs heavy in the air. then that fucking smell comes back tenfold and he groans.

“you don’t get to make that choice for me,” your voice is sickly sweet, dripping with desire as your fingers ghost over the waistband of his jeans. he feels like a horny teenager as he preens at the barely there contact.

logan breathes your name, a last stitch effort to get you to run, though he knows it’s futile. if there’s one thing he knows about you, it’s that you're stubborn. unmoving in your ways.

and that when you want something, you don’t stop until you get it.

your hand comes up to cradle the side of his face, a rather gentle touch he wasn’t anticipating. his eyes flutter shut as you swipe your thumb over the expanse of his cheekbone.

your words are barely above a whisper. “i trust you, logan. completely.”

that’s all he needs to hear before he throws any sense of self control out the window.

he surges forward and captures your lips in what is possibly the most heated kiss you’ve ever experienced. you nearly stumble over at the sheer force of it. logan’s large hands fly to your waist, yours to the back of his neck as his tongue prods for entrance into your mouth. it’s messy, almost primal as you let him ravish you like he’s been thinking about for weeks.

you moan and he swallows the sound greedily, desperate to hear it again, and again, and again. when his lips move to press against the column of your throat, you know this is going to escalate into exactly what you hoped it would.

“logan,” you breathe out as he focuses on your pulse point, his hands wandering further south to knead at the globes of your ass. “not here.”

“why not?” he mutters, all smirky and smug as he continues to press wet hot kisses against your neck.

“because i would prefer if you didn’t fuck me where our friends eat.”

he laughs, a deep vibration felt against your chest as you absentmindedly grind your core against his. it makes him bring his mouth back up to yours, stealing one final kiss before he pulls away.

looking at you like he wants to eat you alive. and by god you might just let him.

pressing a playful smack against your backside, he gently nudges you in the direction of the corridor.

“lead the way sugar.”

thanks for reading! <3