#PLEASE do not roast me if he doesn't seem accurate

[sceletaflores]

HEAVY METAL LOVER!

pair: logan howlett x bartender!reader wc: 4.2k

contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, drinking, swearing, motorcycle rides, p in v, unprotected sex, rough sex, fingering (fem!receiving), creampie, wolverine's hairy tits, the claws show up ofc, porn with plot, no use of y/n. author’s note: watched deadpool & wolverine twice in theaters, started rewatching the x-men movies, pondered many different thoughts, sat down and wrote this. i need him to breed me. title from lady gaga's 'heavy metal lover' cause it's literally his song.

the wolverine is a regular at your bar…

You're shining glasses behind the bar when you hear it, the gruff sound of Logan’s voice turning away yet another girl that worked up the courage to come up to him. It’s his third rejection of the night, not that you were counting.

You were, you always do. You pay more attention to that side of the bar than you normally would when he’s here, which is nearly everyday for the past three weeks. He's not like any of your other regulars. He's almost always alone, and he never talks to you except when he calls for another drink. 

The only reason you even know his real name at all is because Wade told you one of the nights he tagged along, leaning his elbows on the bar to whisper over the sugared rim of his "Piña Colada. Extra creamy please, you know how I like it..." like he was telling you a secret.

"Don't let him hurt your feels honey bunch. That's just classic Logan for you, a man of few words. Huge case of blue balls by the way." 

You remember the way he let the obvious innuendo hang in the air, the knowing look he gave you as he spun the little paper umbrella floating in his drink. You didn’t think you were being that obvious, that someone as socially inept as Wade was able to pick up on the way your eyes would linger a little too long on the broad width of Logan’s shoulders, on the way his arms would strain against the fabric of his flannels. 

You’d seen him on the news, thick corded muscles all wrapped in blue and yellow leather. It haunted you for days, playing in your mind on a constant loop of sweaty biceps until you finally gave in and pulled out your favorite vibrator. 

Even with that, there’s just something about the jeans and flannels he wears outside of the suit that make you want to jump over the bar and drop down to your knees right in front of him. Your mouth open wide and waiting.

The dull ‘thunk’ of Logan placing his empty glass on the bartop grabs your attention, two quick raps of his knuckles against the wood ripping you from your thoughts. “Another,” he says briskly, not looking away from the peeling backsplash on the wall behind you.

You usually snapped at men who’d bark orders at you, but The Wolverine isn’t just any man. He's certainly the only man you'd ever take orders from willingly, happily.

You grin, tossing your towel over your shoulder as you grab the whiskey bottle off the shelf and slide over to him, tipping the amber colored bottle over to start refilling his glass. “That’s the third one tonight,” you say casually, casting your eyes over his shoulder to the girl from before retreating back to her friends. “I take it you don’t come here looking for company?”

Logan’s eyes flick to yours, it’s the first time he’s looked at you all night. You look back, lips pulled into a small smile as more whiskey than you’d usually pour splashes against the sides of his glass. The music playing from the speakers fades into a dull hum around you.

He holds your gaze for a second longer, a flash of something you can't quite read passing through his eyes before he’s looking away again. “Not the kind you’re thinking of,” he replies, his voice a low rumble that has something warm zinging up your spine.

You set the bottle down next to him, brow piqued in curiosity. “And what kind is that?”

He doesn't respond right away, just raises the now full glass to his lips to take a slow sip. You almost think he’s going to ignore you again, but then he speaks, “You ask everyone that comes in here personal questions, bub?” 

There’s the barest hint of amusement lacing his words that has you biting your bottom lip to try and contain the absolute giddiness blooming in your chest. It’s not much, but it’s more than he’s ever given you before. Encouraged, you step in a little closer, hoping to draw him out further.

“Only the ones with their asses practically fused to my stools,” you shrug, a playful glint sparkling in your eyes. “So what is it, you got some poor wife you leave at home every time you come here? Because the ‘tall, dark, and kind of morally ambiguous’ thing is obviously working for you.”

Logan turns his eyes to you again, his brow raised in amusement. You’re close enough that you can see the way his lips turn up at the corners. He seems to consider your question, gaze slowly trailing along your face before flicking back to your eyes. "No wife," he replies, the words slow and deliberate. "No home to leave her at either.”

His response hangs in the air between you, heavier than you anticipated. You let out a soft breath, lips parting ever so slightly. You can practically feel the weight of his gaze settling over you, leaving your whole body warm and tingly. The heat swirling deep in your gut slipping down to pool wet and sticky in your panties. Logan’s eyes blink shut for just a second, the bridge of his nose twitching lightly.

You almost can’t believe this is really happening, that the angry guy at the end of your bar you’ve seen turn away pretty girl after pretty girl is flirting with you. It makes you feel dizzy with power, like you could do anything, but it’s also one of the most intimidating things you’ve ever experienced. You didn’t realize what it meant to be the center of Logan’s attention until now, but you refuse to back down.

 He gives an inch, so you take a mile.

Your grin widens as you lean your elbows on the bar, resting your chin on the heels of your hands. Logan doesn’t react to you invading his space, just keeps his eyes on you with a passive look on his face, but you don’t miss the way his gaze darts down to the low cut of your top.

“So…” you say slowly, voice dipping into a softer more intimate tone, “that means you’re free later tonight?” You tilt your head to the side coyly, allowing your hair to cascade over your shoulder, the movement drawing his gaze.

Logan’s eyes widen the tiniest bit, a surprised huff leaving his lips. He raises his glass, taking another long drink. Your eyes trace the sharp line of his jaw to where his adam’s apple bobs enticingly as he swallows. Your lips tingle with the need to mark up the tan column of his throat, to sink your teeth in the skin there, to taste.

The neckline of his undershirt dips low enough that you can see the dark hair scattered across his chest, dog tags dangling from a chain around his neck to sit in the center.

You drag your eyes back up to his face, flushing when you see that he's already looking at you over the rim of his drink. He sets his half drained glass down, a skeptical look on his face. “How old are you, kid?”

You shake your head with a soft laugh, dropping your palms to lay flat on the bartop. If that makes your top dip a little lower to flash more of your cleavage in Logan’s eyeline, then that’s just a bonus. “Old enough to be here,” you reply after a short pause, gazing up at him from under your lashes, “Old enough to know what I want.”

Logan’s eyes darken, the warm brown of them seeming deeper and even more intense than before. The dim overhead lights cast shadows across his rugged features, highlighting the scruff on his jaw. You can’t help but imagine the rough scratch of it brushing up against your inner thighs.

Logan pushes his glass away, leaning in with a soft grunt, his eyes drop to your lips. You suck in a shocked breath, your whole body lighting up at being so close to him. Your heart is racing in your chest, a quick ba-dum ba-dum ba-dum ba-dum ba-dum ba-dum that echoes in your ears.

His lips turn up in a sly grin, the sharp canines of his teeth on display. “Is that so?” He asks, voice going all husky like gravel and honey. He meets your eyes and you swear you can see the sparks going off in the air between you, everything else in the bar completely fizzling out as his breath mingles with yours. “Careful what you wish for,” he says, his voice a low rumble that makes your knees weak. “You might just get it.”

Your lips curve into a mischievous smile, the heat between you palpable. “I’m counting on it,” you reply, your voice dripping with promise. It takes everything in you to straighten up and pull away from Logan, stepping back with the forgotten bottle in your hand. “My shift ends at eleven,” you say with a small shrug, jerking your head to a door across the room, “staff leaves through the alley door.” 

It’s a clear invitation, one that Logan easily picks up on. His hungry gaze follows every move you make as you shelf the whiskey.

Before he can say anything, someone calls you from across the bar, shaking their empty glass impatiently. You throw him one last smile over your shoulder, mouthing ‘eleven‘ again with a quick nod of your head. You aren’t sure if it’s supposed to reassure you or him.

Logan smirks nonetheless, standing from the bar before draining the rest of his drink and throwing a few bills down. The air crackles as you watch him make his way towards the exit, eyes lingering on the way his jeans hug the thick muscles of his legs before someone is snapping their fingers at you to serve them.

The rest of your shift drags by, but the excitement and hope swirling in your stomach doesn’t fade. You’re practically thrumming with excitement by the time eleven rolls around, anticipation coursing through your veins as you clock out and grab your bag from your locker.

You pull the door to the alley open, the heavy metal creaking with the swing. The gravel crunches under your shoes as you step outside, eyes eagerly searching the space in search of Logan. The light mounted above the door shines around you, but you don’t see him anywhere. 

Just as disappointment starts to settle in your chest, you hear a loud rumble coming from the down the street. A bright light shines across the road as it gets closer and closer until there’s a motorcycle pulled up against the alley’s opening.

Logan kicks the bike’s stand down, leaning over to hold out a helmet in offering. “You coming or not?” he calls out, voice deep and teasing, “I’m not known for my patience.”

You can’t help but laugh, a mix of exhilaration and nervousness bubbling up inside you. With a confident stride, you walk toward him, the loud growl of the bike reverberates through your body like thunder with every step. “You’re just full of surprises tonight, aren’t you?” 

You take the helmet from his hand, but he doesn't let go right away, making your fingers brush against his in a way that sends a shiver up your arm. You meet his gaze, the smirk on his lips matching the dangerous glint in his eyes.

He drops his hand down to the bike’s handle, jerking his head back to the empty space behind him. “Hop on.”

You straddle the bike, the leather seat warm from the rumbling engine beneath you. You give Logan your address as you slip the helmet on. His body is warm and solid against your front, you can’t help but press a little closer, your hands falling to rest on his waist. The leather of his jacket is smooth under your fingertips.

Logan turns his head to the side, the street lights shine along the side of his face in a warm yellow glow. “Hang on,” he says, voice barely audible over the roar of the bike’s engine starting up.

The sudden rush of wind as he pulls off paired with the thrillingly intense vibration of the engine revving under you is exhilarating. You wrap your arms tight around his waist, fingers digging in slightly as you lean into the curve of his body. 

The city blurs into a whirlwind of colorful lights as Logan navigates the streets with a confident ease. The cool night air whips past you, every turn and acceleration pumping more adrenaline through your veins. You cling to Logan’s waist like it’s a lifeline– there’s a sense of freedom and excitement that comes with being on the bike, but you think the real thrill is being pressed against him like this, feeling the power of his strength under you.

The ride seems like it takes both hours and seconds all at once when Logan pulls up to your house's gate. He kills the engine, the sudden silence a stark contrast from the roaring bike. Your heart pounds in your chest, pulse thumping as you slide the helmet off.

Logan takes it from your hands, eyes scanning over your house. “Nice place,” he comments casually, swinging his leg over the bike to stand next to you. 

"Thanks," you say, your voice a tad breathless. You can’t help but feel a little self-conscious as you dig for your keys in your bag, nerves finally starting to set in. The air is cold against your flushed skin, and you’re hyper aware of Logan’s presence behind you as you unlock the gate and push it open.

He doesn’t touch you as the two of you walk up the steps to your house, infuriatingly keeping his distance with his hands shoved deep in the pockets of his jeans.

Your legs shake with every step, you can’t tell if it’s left over adrenaline from the ride or the building anticipation for the ride you know is waiting for you beyond your front door. Your hands tremble as you fumble with the lock, opening the door and stepping into the darkness of your living room. 

You’re barely a foot inside before a pair of strong hands pull you backwards, getting whirled around by your waist until your back hits your closed front door mute thud. You don’t have any time to react before Logan’s crowding up against you, his body a solid wall of muscle pressing you hard against the door. His lips crash into yours in a hungry kiss, you can taste the whiskey from earlier sharp and smoky on his tongue.

You respond eagerly, leaning up to wrap your arms around his neck and pull him down even closer. Logan’s hands roam over your body rough and possessive, one sliding up to cup the back of your neck while the other grips your waist, pulling you even closer. His hands leave a trail of fire in their wake, your skin tingling with every brush of his fingers. You can feel the raw power in his touch, a barely there restrained strength that has your heart racing even faster. 

“I could fucking smell you,” he growls agasint your neck, digging his sharp teeth into your collarbone meanly. You can't help but let out a soft moan, your head falling back against the door to give him better access. The rough stubble on his jaw scrapes deliciously against your sensitive skin, sending shivers down your spine. “Could smell how goddamn wet you got, back at the bar.”

His hand slips under the waistband of your jeans, sliding down the front of your panties to brush against your clit. Your mouth drops open with a soft moan, your slick lips still tingling. “Do you have any fuckin’ idea how hard it was not to bend you over, to not rip these things off and fuck you over the bar?” he asks roughly, lips brushing against your skin with every word. “Wanted to take you right, make everyone watch while I made you scream.”

Your breath hitches at his words, a wave of pleasure crashing through you. The rough skin of his fingertips press more firmly against your clit, drawing a broken moan from your lips. “Logan,” you gasp, your hips bucking involuntarily against his hand.Your hands claw at his shoulders, gripping the fabric of his shirt as you try to ground yourself. 

His lips capture yours again in a bruising kiss, sliding two thick fingers into you with a rough thrust. “Atta girl,” he murmurs against your mouth, dragging his tongue across your bottom slip. “That’s it, say my name,” he growls, swallowing your moans as his fingers pump into you with an unrelenting pace. Your walls clench around him, a needy whine escaping your throat as he begins to fuck his fingers in and out of your wet cunt. 

The coil of pleasure deep in your stomach tightens with every thrust of his fingers, your body trembling with the intensity of it all. You can feel the pressure start to build, like a dam threatening to burst, but this isn’t how you want to come. You break the kiss, a thin thread of saliva connecting your lips before it thins and breaks. “Wait,” you say breathlessly, hand slipping down to grip his forearm tightly, “I want to come with you inside me.”

Logan growls, a deep, primal sound that you can feel rumble deep in his chest where it’s pressed against yours. “Bedroom,” he demands, hands dropping to the back of your thighs and lifting. 

You wrap your legs around his waist with a quiet squeal, attacking the skin of his neck with your teeth as he walks the two of you down the dark hallway. “First door on the right,” you whisper, dragging your tongue along the column of his throat. You can feel the thick length of his cock straining against his jeans press into your hip. He sucks in a sharp breath as you roll your hips down, sliding the damp fabric of your clothed cunt over him.

Logan kicks the door open with a force that has it slamming against the wall, the sound barely registering in your lust-addled brain. Logan dumps you on the bed, the force of it bouncing you on the mattress. He rips his white undershirt over his head and drops to his knees in front of you, big hands coming up to grip the waistband of your jeans.

The muscles in his arms don’t even flex as he rips your shorts down the middle, denim and along with lace panties tearing like tissue paper in his hands and falling to the floor in tattered pieces. You gasp at the cold air hitting your hot, aching cunt. 

Logan’s hands run up and down the bare skin of your calves, eyes glued to the soaked skin of your inner thighs. Your thighs start to tremble under his gaze, your patience starting to wear thin. Logan drags his eyes back to you, taking in the pleading look on your face. He smirks, wordlessly rising to his feet to pop open the button of his jeans.

You watch with bated breath as he unzips his fly, eyes glued to the way he starts to push them down his legs just enough that they fall to pool around his ankles. Your mouth drops open, eyes going wide at the sight of him.

He’s so big, so thick and heavy that his cock hangs hard between his hairy thighs instead of slapping up against his stomach. There’s a thick drop of pre-cum leaking from the tip, dripping down a thick vein running along the side.

Your mouth waters with want, the want to bury your nose in the dark thatch of hair surrounding the base, the want to have him fuck your throat raw and red. You can almost feel the ache in your jaw. 

As much as you want to get him in your mouth, you want him inside you even more.

“Get your ass over here,” you demand breathlessly, tearing your shirt off your head in one swift motion. Logan smirks, stepping out of his jeans and making his way across the room. His dog tags jingle with every step, your cunt clenches weakly.

He stalks up the mattress like a predator, eyes ablaze as a cocky smirk plays on his lips. Your legs fall open unconsciously, thighs spreading wide to make enough room for his hips to slot against yours.

You gasp at the thick head of his cock sliding through your wet folds, your body arching off the bed. The sensation is electric, shooting through you like a live wire. "Logan," you breathe, your voice barely more than a whimper. "Please..."

"Please what?" he asks, his lips curving into a smirk against your skin. "You gotta tell me what you want, sweetheart."

Your cheeks flush hot, but the need burning inside you is stronger than any embarrassment. "I want you," you admit, your voice trembling with desire. "I want you to fuck me, Logan."

His growl is low and feral, his fingers teasing you relentlessly as he presses his forehead to yours. "That's a good girl," he rumbles, his breath hot against your lips as he sinks into the tight heat of your cunt in a single thrust. 

The pace he sets is unrelenting, one hand braced on the pillow next to your head while the other grips your bed’s frame for better leverage to fuck down into you. The sting of his cock splitting your cunt open has your nails digging into the flesh of his shoulders. His dog tags hang from his neck, swinging like a pendulum as he starts to thrust.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he grates out, brows furrowed in pleasure. His hips speed up, barely pulling out halfway before he plunges back into you. The bed squeaks under you, slamming up against the wall as Logan fucks you.

It’s like Logan surrounds every inch of you, strong arms caged around your head while his body covers yours, metal bonded bones pressing you down into the mattress so there’s nothing you can do but take it. You know that he’s ruined every other man in the world for you as the heavy snap of his hips pounds against the skin of your ass hard enough to bruise. The thick muscles of chest bounces as he moves, the coarse hair scraping against your sensitive nipples.

The head of his cock pounds the soft spot inside of you that has your eyes fluttering closed, mind going hazy as heat starts to pool at the base of your spine.

“Don’t fucking stop,” you beg brokenly, tears sting the corners of your eyes. “God! I’m gonna come, you’re gonna make me come–”

“Come on baby,” Logan goads, dropping down to his fore arm so he can bury his face in the crook of your neck, “Give it to me, come on this cock, show me how much you fucking love it,”

The stinging bite of his sharp canines scraping the fluttering pulse of your neck makes you wail, nails raking down his back hard enough to leave long red welts that heal as you go. Your cunt clenches around the pulsing length of his cock, greedily milking him as you come in a rush of wetness around his cock.

“Fuck,” Logan grits out, his hips faltering. It’s not by much, but just enough for you to notice. The rhythmic smack smack smack of skin stuttering as his breath comes out in fast pants against the sweaty skin of your neck. His cock jerks inside you fiercely, his heavy balls tightening as he gets closer to the edge. You can hear the metal frame of your bed creaking warningly under his grip.

“Come in me,” you beg breathlessly, tightening your ankles around his waist. “Please, Logan I need it–”

Logan lets out a feral growl as his hand drops from your headboard, the sharp metallic sound of his claws unsheathing rings out above you before he slams his fist into the mattress next to your head. He floods your insides, pumping you full of his come as he grunts like a beast on top of you. He gives a few more weak thrusts of his hips, letting the two of you ride out your highs before he finally stills.

You hear the quiet snikt of his claws retracting from your mattress and back into between his knuckles before Logan collapses on top of you, arms braced on either side of your head to take most of his weight. His breath puffs raggedly over the skin of your shoulder, his spent cock still snug in your sore cunt. 

“You owe me a new mattress,” you say breathlessly, digging the heels of your feet into his lower back sharply. 

Logan chuckles into your neck, tipping his head up to look at you with dark eyes. His lips curl into a smirk as he rolls his hips, his still hard cock dragging along the sensitive walls of your cunt makes you gasp. “Yeah?” he asks, low and velvety. His eyes flick to the three holes punched through your sheets.

“You can add it to my tab,” he says with another stronger roll of his hips, “We’re not done here.”

tags are now in the comments! if you want to get tagged for any of my works just fill out this form!

a/n! the actual biggest shout out to @ebodebo for beta reading and listening to my non-stop rambling and horny thoughts about this man. she's a true solider because i have been so annoying about this. mwah mwah mwah.

[rjmartin11]

Faded Love: Part Three

Pairing: Elvis & female!reader

Summary: After finding out about Elvis infidelity, you decide to have one final decision before you walk out the door for good.

Word Count: ???

Warnings: Confession time, talks of pregnancy, Smut

Author's Notes: Welcome to the final act.

・ʚ♡ɞ・💙・ʚ♡ɞ・

You hang up the phone, and Elvis' heart drops. He's lost you. A tear trickles down his cheek as he hangs up the phone. He calls off the search as you asked, and everything goes quiet.

Elvis goes up to his room to reflect on his life and on you. He kneels in front of the window to pray to God for clarity and guidance, but most of all forgiveness. He wants you back so badly he'd do anything.

"God, I love her," he weeps. "I need a miracle, Lord. Bring her back to me, and I'll never ever screw up again. I'll mend each and every promise I've broken to have her back in my arms. I'll be faithful. I'll pledge my undying love to her and only her. She's the love of my life. Please, Lord."

Elvis collapses on the floor in tears, curling up in the fetal position. Elvis waits for some sort of miracle to happen. He doesn't know what to expect, but he'll wait. He will wait for you.

.....

On the other side of the line, you sit with a cool compress on your head and a heating pad on your tummy. You believe the stress from everything has brought you to this point. You've had break-ups before, but nothing like this. Your stomach is knots, and you feel queezy.

"Y/N?" Sharon starts. "You feeling any better."

"I feel so strange," you answer slowly. "This stress on my body is... I don't know. I just think it would be best if Elvis and I distanced ourselves from one another. He needs to find out what he wants."

"What if he wants you?" Sharon questions. "Are you still going to ask him for a divorce?"

"Yes."

You take a deep breath as you speak. Why do you feel nauseous? You begin to question everything that led to this. Did you eat something bad? Is this a realization and the result of an unfit union?

"Y/N, have you vomited again?" Sharon asks.

"Once, after I hung up the phone with him. I ran straight to the bathroom. It just seems like it's gotten worse over the last couple of days," you admit.

"When did this start?"

"A few weeks ago. On and off a few times. I thought it was stress from Elvis' lack of love for me. That and the roast from the night before."

"Y/N, when was the last time you and Elvis slept together?"

"Three days ago. The day I left him."

"And before that?" Sharon asks.

"A month or so. We made love, and then a few days later, it was like he started to resent me."

"You just start feeling this way?"

"Sharon, what are you getting at?" You ask, rebuking this line of questioning.

Sharon smiles and takes you by the hand. She leads you to the bathroom, placing you in front of the mirror.

"My dearest little sister. You've been sick and moody for a full month. When was the last time you had your period?" Sharon asks.

Your eyes widen as you cover your mouth. You've been so worried about losing Elvis that you didn't realize you skipped your period.

"I... I thought it was stress, Sharon." You say. "I've missed periods before, but I was stressed."

Sharon pulls out a pregnancy test from the bathroom cabinet, handing it to you.

"Let's find out," Sharon says calmly.

.....

Fifteen minutes later...

It only takes ten minutes for you to get an accurate read on a pregnancy test. You are nervous. You can't stop pacing the floor. Your palms are sweaty. Your feet are sore, and your tummy keeps doing flips.

If this test proves you're a mommy. That means Elvis will be a daddy. This changes everything. You want a divorce, yet you want this baby to have both parents. Something you and Sharon didn't have growing up. You have no doubt that Elvis will be a good father. A great father, in fact. He was raised in the home with both his parents. Loving parents who supported him in everything he did. That's what you wanted for your child.

You try to focus on your breath and relax. The last few days have been stressful. If you are pregnant, stress is not good for you.

"Well?" Sharon questions, peeking her head in the door.

"Well, what?" You turn to look at her.

"I'm I going to be an aunt or not?"

You put your hands through your hair and breathe.

"Sharon," you begin with tears in your eyes. "Once I look at the test, my life will forever change.

Sharon slowly walks into the bathroom, placing her hands on your arms she asks you,

"You want me to check for you?"

"I... I... yes... no, don't. Yes, please."

Before you can stop her, Sharon grabs the test off the counter. Her face is blank, giving you no clue as to what the answer is to the questions of the day.

"So???" You breathe and wait with anticipation.

Sharon looks over at you with a small smirk on her face.

"Elvis placed a bun in your oven, Y/N."

"Holy... shit," you breathe a sigh of relief as you place your hands on your stomach.

You are happy, but you are still at a loss for words. This baby isn't just yours, but it's Elvis' as well.

"What am I going to do, Shar?"

"Little sister. You're going home, and you're going to tell Elvis he's going to be a father. I have a feeling he's very sorry. Despite everything that he did. You need to speak to him. Tell him the truth. You can do that much."

Gently, Sharon grabs you and gives you a hug. She does her job as a big sister, comforting you and telling you the truth you try to deny. You are really reluctant to follow her advice, yet you know she's right.

The next day, you borrow Sharon's car to return to Graceland. The drive is only ten miles, but it might as well have been an eternity. Every mile felt like a hundred miles. Your stomach's in knots as you drive through the gates.

Before you go into the house, you say a silent prayer. As if you weren't saying one on your way to Graceland.

"Strength. God, grant me the strength," you whisper as you stand at the front door.

You walk in, not knowing what to expect. You hear Elvis' voice immediately, following his it beyond the kitchen into the Jungle Room. You see all the guys in there as Elvis sings Unchained Melody on the piano.

His voice has always lit a fire deep within your heart and soul. When he sings, Elvis builds a connecting bridge between himself and his fans, and you aren't an exception to that rule. It's part of the reason you love him so much. Your heart swells as Elvis unleashes this beautiful part of himself to everyone in the room. These private singing sessions always made you feel special because it almost seemed that it was all for you.

As Elvis ends the song, you exhale the breath you didn't realize you were holding in. Every eye turns to look at you, and Elvis looks up from his piano.

He loses his breath as he sees the image of you clear in his view. A sight for sore eyes. If you only knew how much he missed you. If you only realized how much he prayed for you in the last week. He wished on every star in the sky that his angel would return to him, and here you are.

Elvis slowly raises from the piano bench. His heart beats out of control, yet he remains composed. He wants to run to you and embrace you. He wants to place soft kisses all over your body, but he doesn't want to scare you away like a timid doe.

"Y/N," Elvis says, his voice as clear as a bell on Sunday morning.

"Hello, Elvis," you reply.

"Gentleman," Elvis announces, his eye never leaving you. "Please give us the room."

They all pile out the room as asked. A few of them pat your shoulders as they pass. It's just you and Elvis alone in the room.

"You're home, baby," he says.

"No, but we need to talk."

"Yes, we do. I... me first, please?" Elvis asks, extending his hand to you.

In good faith, you take his hand. Elvis smiles and walks you to the couch, sitting you both down. He notices a glow about you, and it makes him want to kiss you so badly. But he behaves himself. Good things come to those who wait. He holds your hands in his bigger hands, trembling.

"Baby, I'm so glad you're back. I've missed you. I...I got you something amazing. I hope you like it," he says, pulling a box out of his pocket.

You had a feeling Elvis would do this. Elvis never ever had a problem expressing himself verbally. If he was happy or angry or even hungry. He expressed it. If he was sad or depressed Elvis would tell you and the guys. But for some reason, Elvis could never verbally admit when he was wrong or apologize. He'd buy luxurious gifts to compensate for his wrongdoings. It made you mad.

"For fuck sake, you can't even apologize. Can you? Buying me gifts doesn't make up my what you've done."

"Y/N, I... I give you every fucking thing you could want and you..."

"Stop!" You shout, jumping off the couch. "Elvis, stop. I'm done arguing. I didn't come here to argue. I came here to tell you something and leave."

"I don't want you to leave, Y/N," Elvis says, standing before you. "I have more to say. I can't be without you. You are worth every fight. We need to work this out. Come back home, and things will be different. I promise..."

"Elvis, I'm pregnant," you blurt out.

The look on Elvis' face is unreadable, but you continue talking anyway.

"I can't stay here with you like this. I choose this baby. I don't want to lose him or her because you and I got into an argument about whatever."

Elvis falls to his knees, embracing you in a hug. He kisses your tummy, leaving you speechless. Tears pour from your eyes as you feel his soft lips kiss you. He grabs a fist full of the back of your dress.

"Baby, this is incredible," Elvis says, looking up at you. "I prayed to God that something would link us together. This is it, baby. Don't you see?!"

"Elvis, I... I can't."

Elvis stands up, looking you in your eyes. He touches your damp cheeks, wiping the tears away.

"You can't leave me, baby," Elvis says. "I just want to know one thing, Y/N. Then, if you really want to leave, I-I-I won't stop ya."

"What?" You ask. Caught in his grasp.

"Who's ever gonna love you like me? Huh? You once said that I was it for you. Who gonna kiss your lips like me?"

Elvis softly places a kiss on your lips, and you melt like butter in his arms.

"Y/N, who's gonna kiss your spots for you? Your cheeks? The soft spot on your neck that makes your knees quiver," Elvis whispers as he kisses your neck.

Your eyes roll back as his soft lips place kisses on your neck as his hands slowly travel down your back. Elvis was right. No one would love you like he does. No one will take the time to learn your body the way he has. Elvis has ruined sex for you. No one can touch you the way he can, but you're to obstinate to admit it. If Elvis wants you back, he has to work for you. Yet, he still hasn't said the words to open your heart to him again.

"Baby," Elvis says. "Who knows how to work your pussy like me? How to tune you up and lay you down?"

Elvis sits you down on the couch once more. Bowing in front of you, he tenderly spreads your legs away. He lifts your dress up to expose your panties to him. You try to control your breathing, but it's hitched. You know what's coming.

"Does he notice how wet my panties are?" You wonder to yourself.

You know you're in trouble once he rubs the pad of his thumb over your covered entrance. Your chest heaves as Elvis looks into your eyes. He laces both of his index fingers into your panties, slowly pulling them down your legs.

"Y/N, I'm so sorry, baby," Elvis says. "I'm so damn sorry. I... never meant to hurt you. You are my everything."

And with that beautiful apology, you open your heart and accept all that he gives you. Elvis places his lips to your wet, throbbing clit. You sit back and enjoy the ride Elvis takes you on to erotic pleasure. You feel more sensitive than usual. He lathers his tongue all over your clitorus, making you moan out his name.

He then removes his mouth from you to gaze at your blized out face. You are so beautiful to him. He loves you so much. Without warning, Elvis inserts his middle and ring finger into your wet pussy. Causing you to cry out for him.

"Elvis! Ahh!"

"Baby, no one can ever do to you what I do," Elvis whispers. "You're mine. You'll always be mine, and I'm yours."

"Yes," you moan.

Elvis places his lips back to your clit as his fingers furiously work your sweet spot. It's as if he's singing to your clit as he strums your insides. Your chest heaves as you try to maintain your breathing. The heat at your core is like coals swelling to fire. You scratch his scalp as he brings you to the brink of pleasure.

You cum as you grind softly into his face. Elvis has taken all your strength from you. You couldn't leave even if you wanted to.

Elvis laps up some of your nectar before standing up to take his clothes off. His body's armed and ready for you. His cock is rock hard, aiming to plunge deep within you. He teases your entrance instead of immediately driving his cock into you. This teasing has you squirming with excitement.

"Is this okay?" Elvis asks.

You nod your head with enthusiasm as he lifts your leg and gently pushes into you. You both moan at the sensation of being connected together. Elvis steadies his pace as he pumps in and out of you. You grab onto he firmly. He feels better than the last time. You don't know how, but the passion is more powerful than any other time you've had sex. Maybe it's because you're pregnant, or maybe it's because Elvis means to prove to you that you're the one for him. Either way, you accept it.

You push yourself up into Elvis as he pushes into you, giving as much as you take. You look into each other's eyes, seeing into one another's souls.

"Forgive me, Y/N," Elvis pleads. "Forgive me for all I've done. I love you."

"Y-yes," you stutter out.

"Stay with me and be mine," he whispers, pounding harder into you.

"I will, daddy waddy!" You scream as you cum once more.

Elvis isn't far behind you cumming inside you once more. If you were pregnant before the makeup session, you are now. Elvis wraps you up in his arms, placing kisses on your neck up to your face. You missed this. This high school/honeymoon phase of your relationship. The moments when he was so gentle, kind, and extra loving. He rubs your tummy, causing you to remember that you two are alone.

"We're having a baby, Y/N, baby," Elvis whispers as he kisses your lips.

"We're having a baby, E," you say with a smile on your face.

This moment couldn't be more perfect. And just thinking in eight months, your baby would be in your arms. Life is splendid.

Taglist: @missmaywemeetagain @beeandheroddobsessions @headfullofpresley @everythingpresley @epforeverohyes @vintagepresley @pianginferno @powerofelvis @ab4eva @foreverdolly @searchingforgravity @thatbanditqueen @daffieapple @18lkpeters @dkayfixates @epsgirl @richardslady121 @literally-just-elvis-fics @eptodaytommorwforever @vintageshanny @iloveelvis @dreamingofep @aliypop @littlehoneyposts @msamarican

[bluemasochistic]

Quattro/IV Headcanons

Hello, today I will be sharing a view headcanons on IV. Not sure how accurate these are but lemme know what you think. Some are just random headcanons I have of him others may be a bit of you were his bf/gf?

Quattro loves his family dearly and will drag himself through hell to help protect it as well as the others but all family members seem to have a favorite. This being Trey, hurt him he may have a thing or two to say.

Quattro is definitely a pet person although he seems intimidating and sadistic no matter what it's say he has a soft spot for animals and would be very pleased to pet or walk them. He used to basically be best buds with his own dog when he was younger.

He is all about pride I think he'd totally be into winning duels at festival games and giving gifts to girls who'd cheer him on. He'd also probably want to play with best friend Reginald but wouldn't directly ask more like "You think you could beat me in a game of(blank)?" Or "Never played a game of(blank)?

He's more insecure than you think sometimes words can have a big blow to his ego especially if it's about him not being good enough, something minor that doesn't reflect any regrets in his life jed probably just roast you back.

He's not an early riser he likes to sleep in later but he likes being out in the afternoon when the sun is shining, being stuck in doors with nothing to do bores the hell out of him.

Kinda a Tsundere like Reginald, who would've thought. He would love getting praise and bragged about with confidence but if you're acknowledging his affectionate side he'd get rather flustered and lightly try to push it to the side.

Nowadays he wouldn't think twice about helping out the Kastle twins or his dear friends but wouldn't stop him from saying something a little snarky or condescending when something doesn't go as planned.

He likes sweets but more so spicy food, he likes the thrill and the flavor of it.

Enjoys music, what type? I think he definitely enjoys some classical music and probably has some good dance history.

Totally be the type of friend to randomly shake you when a scary scene from a horror movie popped up on the screen.

If Quattro got a lover he'd probably spoil them, cause we all know he likes to spoil whatever that may come to but his family would have to approve of you, probably want you to meet his family right away (more so before he started dating you with a title) Dueling would be one of your love languages for sure. He'd definitely be a guy to give pet names like "babe" because he thinks it would be cool. In a relationship I also think he'd be very protective over you because he wouldn't want to lose you or anyone. He'd take you out to classy places and to where he duels and find it cute if you cheered for him. He'd probably like hugs and wrapping his arms around you in public but nothing to serious. Every now and then he'd like to lay on your lap.

Randomness headcanons

He is is demi-romantic and his bromance with Shark has a little pent of tension

He would be honored if Rio found him attracted or wanted to go on a date with him. (Again rivals girl also seems redeeming from her)

He likes chase Atlantic for hype songs

Occasionally checks himself out in the mirror.

"I'M THE ONLY ONE WHO CAN BULLY TREY!" He would tease him lightly.

Totally take your things and run off with them so you'd chase him because it's funny "fan service"

Talk over you if you tried correcting him in something small and keep walking.

Like anything homemade you give him because of the effort put into it.

[yami-writes]

could you please write a headcanon for kiri, bakugou & hawks (or anyone you like) where y/n's older brother visits them & he has like a mickey milkovich personality from shameless & just straight roasts everyone, espacially his siblings boyfriend, which makes them think he hates them but then they got to spend some alone time and he tells them why he acts like that and that he doesn't hate them & they end up being good friends? 😌

(🏷️) paring(s): kirishima x reader, bakugo x reader, hawks x reader (⚠️) warning(s): swearing, and crimes being committed (💌) note from Yami: ngl i had to search for what his personality was like so this might not be very accurate but i tried, tysm for the request! i enjoyed writing this alot :) (💡) rules/guide

~*~*~*~*

Kirishima

the two of you were chilling in your dorm room 

when you get a text from your brother saying he needs something from you

kirishima had never met your brother up until that point but your excitement hyped him up

about 10 minutes later aizawa called you down

and there he was

the look on kirishima’s face omgg

hes been wanting to your family for a while

but this is not what he expected...

“is this spiky-haired guy really your boyfriend?”

kirishima didnt like the way he emphasized “really”

“my name is Kirishima!”

your brother just waved him off and started talking to you

and eijirou’s just standing there like

����️👄👁️

he tries to just ignore it but it definitely put him off

you ended up needing to back to your dorm to get your brother’s charger you had borrowed

which left Kirishima and your brother alone...

“OI, spiky hair. are you really the guy y/n’s be fawning over for so long?”

poor bby kirishima kinda jus, nods

like- he’s legitimately scared hes abt to get beat tf up 😭😭

“tch. lame.”

hes starting to question if your actually related to him

how could the kind, loving, y/n he know be related to-- him

he was starting to think your brother hated him~

“oi, spiky hair. is that a Crimson Riot shirt?”

it was, in fact a Crimson Riot shirt kirishima was wearing

“y-yea. he’s my favorite hero!”

“hm... then i think you might like this. catch.”

he threw kirishima a Crimson Riot keychain, something you wanted to get him for his birthday

bby’s eyes widen at the surprise gift

“h-huh?”

“i already have my own, that’s an extra one i had.”

“oh... do you like Crimson Riot too?”

long story short, when you came back the two of them were fangirling over Crimson Riot

Bakugo

it was winter break

and yall were chilling in your room

your brother had presumably just come home and was now leaning on your doorframe

“oi, y/n. have you seen my portable charger?”

im aware i used charger for kirishima’s leave my alone im not creative-

“oh, i forgot where i left it, lemme go look for it”

which then left bakugo and your brother alone

they both stayed silent 

but the more time that went by, the more annoyed Pomeranian boi became

“OI! are you not gonna say anything to me!? y/n was so excited for me to meet you yet you cant even be bothered to talk!?”

“its not like your talking either.”

“HAH??”

“you heard me.”

katsuki had to stop himself from blowing anything up

“y/n’s been waiting for you to meet me, huh? better not disappoint”

he starts waling over to katsuki and he’s ready to throw hands

“b/l/n. your bakugo katsuki, right?”

“yea. and what do you want?”

“we could.. be friends,, or whatever.”

bakugo’s just sitting there not wanting to interact with him anymore

but the thought of you being happy stopped him from doing anything he might regret.

“...fine. we can,,, be.. friends.”

“cool. by the way, i like your shirt. y/n has one like it.”

“no they dont, they just always steal mine”

when you came back katsuki was ranting about you always stealing his clothes

Hawks

the two of you were on patrol

when you saw your brother on the other side of the road

“oh, keigo! come look! my brother’s over there!”

your tugging on his hand gesturing over at him

and, you know hawks. he cant say no to you

plus he’s been wanting to meet your family for a while

he flies you to the other side of the road and your already waving at him

hawks’ automatically got bad vibes from your brother

he just didnt like him as soon as he came in proximity of him

which isent fair but okay ma’am...

anyways you and him talk while hawks just kinda.. listens

he dosent seem to be doing anything wrong so he lets his guard down

*ring ring*

“oh, thats my phone. your guys talk for a bit i need to take this.”

you turned a corner, leaving keigo and your brother alone

“Hawks, the number 2 hero, correct?”

“yup! thats me...”

they’re both staying silent and it gets awkward real fast-

hawks it just kinda wondering if he should just leave because your brother seems to not like em very much

“y/n loves you a lot, you know. hell- they wanna marry you.”

“huh?”

“you heard me. and since y/n likes you,,, i guess i do too~ or whatever.”

any bad vibes hawks got before are out the window 

‘wait,, marry???’

when you came back they were talking about the type of wedding you wanted to have with hawks

along with how cute your children would be

that night was quite the interesting one

[emmyrosee]

I know you just did one of my asks, Which was Amazing. But how about one where Deadpool comes over to the house because Axel drew the short straw or something. Anyway Duncan doesn't like him one bit and Axel just finds him Annoying. However the reader and him become like BFFs and Duncan and Axel get jealous or Something. IDK though. Take your time writing this, you don't even have to write it. Anyway Love your Writing

honey, my soul thrives on this stuff and I’m glad you’ve been enjoying them😫 this is therapeutic to me, I’m not even kidding.

——-

You know that vine with the kid that’s like “WHATS UP FUCKERS!”? Yeah. That’s basically Deadpool walking in for Saturday Night dinner. Axel begged and pleaded the other X-Force members to take him for the night because he just didn’t want DP to upset Duncan and in turn kick Axel out, but the closest he could get was Domino offering to take you out to lunch and to get manicures or something.

Leaving Axel with nothing but a silent prayer that DP wouldn’t be a complete and totally douche-canoe. But of course, he walked into the house with a bottle of Jack and a few choice words about Duncan’s decor.

(“I already hate him,” Duncan growled at Axel as DP waltzed in, already looking for shot glasses.

“Yeah?” Axel snapped back, taking the bottle from Duncan. “Give him thirty minutes, you’ll wish you were dead.”)

But the minute you walk down the stairs? It’s like a pin could drop. Duncan’s hard, Axel is praying that DP says quiet in the kitchen and doesn’t-

“Damn!” He whistles, coming back into the living room. “How you doin?”

You laughed, and Duncan actually felt a vein throb in his head. “You must be Wade,” you say with a genuine smile.

Through the night, you two became absolutely inseparable. Every time DP made you laugh- like, really laugh- Axel’s knuckles turned whiter from the fist he was making. This was not part of the plan.

(“Is this how you felt the first time you met me?” Axel grumbled as he and Duncan began to prepare Dinner.

Duncan shrugged, “like my girlfriend bringing home a fucking puppy and begging me to keep it, and I let her because I can’t fucking say no to her?” He asked, looking at Axel.

Axel nodded, handing Duncan a plate of cheese and crackers, “that’s actually really accurate.”

“Yeah,” Duncan scoffed. “Imagine her doing this cute little ‘please daddy?’ again. To you. For him. You’d cave too.”)

There was just something about DP that just made you giddy, laughing hard and unable to stop smiling at him. He constantly would roast Axel about anything and everything under the sun, and Duncan about the interesting life of dating you and your little dog, too.

Duncan has a tension migraine just from the rage that began to build, because he’s been through this before with Axel, but at least axel had the nerve to suggest they all date, rather than DP just making you cry from laughing so hard.

And Axel? He was going to have to change his name, number and height because he was NEVER. HAVING. DEADPOOL. OVER. AGAIN.

After exchanging numbers (much to Duncan and Axel’s dismay) DP finally leaves, taking his sweet time saying good bye to you.

“He seems like such a doll!” You gush, locking the door behind him. Axel and Duncan both held the same expression of “mcscuse me bitch?” as they stared at you. Your expression dropped at theirs, “what’s wrong?”

They looked at each other before grabbing your hands and pulling you down the hall to Axel’s bedroom, where they finally could release all that anger and tension and remind you just who you belonged too ;)