#chub-writings

[cheeseburgersinparadise]

y’all I’m just so obsessed with hot fat guys eating too much and burping I don’t know what else to tell you 

[mitsundere]

Imagine sweet Geppie with a partner who loves giving people gifts but absolutely spoils him.

Serval and Lynx get regular-sized boxes of chocolate. Gepard? He gets a box of sweets and chocolates wider than his chest.

What's that? All the Silvermane Guards received a lunchbox? Gepard gets a tiered lunchbox that fills him up until dinner.

hi, hope you guys don't mind me combining these asks! i think they're similar enough to be put together :D

-

gepard was a popular young man. he had it all; status, strength, physical appearance— majority of the population favored him people from the overworld did, at least, but everyone knew that their favor could never be comparable to the love that the captain's partner gave.

trinkets were of no use to the frontlines, nor were ugly sweaters (though you wished he would wear something more thick and comfy to combat the cold). so whenever gepard arrives home from work, he's always greeted by something new that you bought or made for him. he appreciates that you make an effort to give gifts to his sisters (and pela) as well. there's a framed photo of you guys wearing matching sweater designs in serval's workshop, and he can't help but gaze softly at the memory every time he visits.

he'd always have the most extravagant gifts, though. his sisters know it, all of the guards know it, dear qlipoth— he's sure that the entire population of belobog knows it as well. a painting in his image (with all of his medals), rare flower seeds (he doesn't know where you got them, not even lynx could find that kind of flower in her expeditions), brand new boots, art materials... gepard appreciates it all, but sometimes it's too much!

even after he brings it up with you, there's one type of gift that he wouldn't mind regularly receiving— the meals you made for him. it brings him a sense of home when he's at work. even if they get cold from the unforgiving belobogian temperatures, he still feels the warmth and love from your cooking. you'd often get carried away with making lunches for him, and you decided to send the extras with him for some of the guards.

on most days, he shares it with them. gepard was proud of your skills, and he knows that your delicious cooking would certainly boost morale. sometimes, it's not enough that he has the biggest lunchbox and most meat out of the packed lunches. he saves one or two extras for himself instead of sharing, though he would never tell you about it.

and everyone notices that the captain became just a tad bit softer after being spoiled with your gifts. on days that he worries about being out of shape, you comfort him. "there's more for me to grab and love" you say, and he lets himself be hugged and smothered with your affections.

[caressthosecheekbones]

"Alex."

"Yeah, baby?"

"The shorts.."

"What's with the shorts?"

"They're too. short."

"Lemme see..."

Henry steps out from behind the curtain, a deep frown on his face while his fingers are fumbling the hems of the indeed quite short shorts.

2 inch inseam indeed.

He doesn't achieve his goal of covering more of his generous thighs and Alex loves it. A lot.

"Well I think..." crowding into the personal space of his welcoming boyfriend he reaches for Henry's thighs with a hungry look in his eyes and what can be only described as grabby hands.

"... they're the perfect length and you look delicious."

Alex's gorgeous dimple and flirty eyebrow twitch while he playfully pushes Henry back into the cabin makes all the blood rush to his usually pale face and he swallows hard.

"Thank you love, but I'm not sure..." his fingers playing with the buttons on Alex's short-sleeved shirt now, eyes trying to find the right words in the space between his collarbones.

Alex deposits a rather sweet kiss on his lips, followed by the cutest nose rub but eyes attentive as his hands continue to map out the mounds of Henry's thighs and ass.

Slowly and thoroughly.

Meanwhile the sentence drops unfinished to the carpeted floor of the dressing room.

"Well I am sure I think you should get them." Alex concludes.

"But I'll get chub rub."

"Chub what?"

"You know.. my thighs. They'll rub against each other and it'll hurt-"

"Oh baby, I will soothe the burn with my tongue, promise..." this next kiss is more heated, Alex takes one of Henry's thighs and presses forward, lifting it to his hip and slipping a finger underneath the inner seam.

Henry's surprised little moan against his tongue his favourite tune.

"... or maybe you should only wear them at home anyway."

His voice is low and hoarse against Henry's lips, his illegal eyelashes lowered and Henry could not stop looking at him if his life depended on it.

"Cannot have you parade around like a lush cupcake, people will walk into oncoming traffic when they'll see you like this."

Henry laughs, pressing his forehead against Alex's and folds both arms behind his neck, caressing his hairline as he leans in for another kiss.

"Okay, I'll wear them only at home." Henry murmurs teasingly.

His eyes shine with mirth and he's grinning now. "I think the lower kitchen cabinets need a proper scrub actually."

"I like the sound of that, baby..."

[fatguarddog]

No pain no gain

That was your motto when you still went to the gym, back when you were in shape. Now the only shape you are is round.

Now that every day is cheat day. Now that you've swapped your protein shakes for weight gain shakes. Now that your gym clothes look ridiculous on your big fat body.

You lay back in your comfy chair, your overstuffed belly dominating your view with empty plates piled up around you. You can hear your feeder joyfully preparing a cake shake for you in the kitchen, knowing they're about to come top up your gut that's stretched so tight it hurts and just how sweetly they'll come and rub it as they push the funnel past your lips and whisper in your ear,

"No pain no gain."

[siberat]

Feeding Competition chapter 2

here’s the conclusion to ambu.lon’s night of vor.tex’s food… and feeding. Can he survive being fed by such a vile ‘co.n? Will ai.d be impressed by what he manages to consume? Read to find out!

[i-like-juice]

Push me

As I grow, watch the light of creativity and focus leave my eyes. My brow relax and stay relaxed. Press your fingers into my forehead and push me back onto the couch. Just barely any force is needed as just as I start to tip back, my knees give and I don't even bother resisting the loss of my stance. Falling back down into a soft pile where I belong, my hips and belly sloshing outwards and then flowing in and upwards like splashing water. Hearing that wonderfully slutty trigger of me cacking and tearing open the fabric of the stretchiest shorts we could find. My favorite. My hip and butt fat greedily expanding in as new space opens. Hold me down by just a few fingers on my forehead. I'll forget why I wanted to be anywhere else, we'll smother out that tiny ember of agency before it gets too out of hand. Yes I can feel my inner voice dying down again, good so annoying. My mouth hangs down slow and stupidly, drool moistening my lower lip. Hungry.

[simply-sithel]

Gifts by @chubsonthemoon [link]

An adorable story that made me happy to read- never mind that I'm unfamiliar with the fandom, the sentiment was universal. Twas very sweet and an exceptionally well suited gem to set within the form of a crafted & gifted item.

The color guidance on this one was tropical island, a very verdant green. Always oh so pleasing to find that perfect little patch of print to fussy cut. Origami paper is excellent for the minis, being so thin and all. An extra small mini- with 2,153 words, it only came out to 39 pages (that 28lb paper really helps bulk out the wee ones)

[ritunn]

Commissioned from Robin

While trying a new diet and preparing for her Wizards & Wyverns game, Cassandra found herself take on a more opulent, draconic, and pudgy form that what she was typically used to as she felt compelled to consume more and more of the food she'd purchased. When all was said and done, let us say game was canceled and she went looking for a bigger mirror.

Inspired by a very old personal writing piece I did you can check out here!

[zz-chikorita]

Thought of a random idea/ au sort of dealio where post sun/moon, after Team Skull gets disbanded, Guzma goes and lives as a recluse on Mount Lanakila because fuck people and also the ultra beasts aren't able to sense him there for some reason. His pokemon don't come out of their balls often, all being bugs and unadapted for the cold so his day to day life is going out into the snow by himself to gather/chop wood, forage, etc. He only rarely goes to the mountain's pokécenter for supplies since it's like a full day's hike from his cabin.

He keeps himself mostly covered up so people don't realize it's him, but they still avoid and are cautious of him because he's just this very large, scary, hermit.

Anyways, blah, blah, blah, insert your favorite blorbo here gets lost/injured in the snow and wakes up in a cabin, roaring fire, is offered a mug of tapu cocoa by the person who rescued them yada yada yada- Oh this guy is kinda cute, he doesn't talk much but he's very kind- something, something takes off his many layers of warm, winter clothes and he's covered in gang tattoos and other ink OH NO HE'S HOT (and also a former crime lord which is a little terrifying but like he's really just a chill dude and wants to be left alone why is everyone afraid of him?)

[i-like-juice]

Why I love squashing

I love sitting on and overflowing someone's lap. Or just any part of their anatomy really. As you grow you obviously get softer and wider but sometimes it's hard to appreciate your own transformation and growth even in mirrors or going over your own pictures and videos. When I'm in contact with someone else, the way I flow over them feels so amazing but what gets me is the way I can see myself. That cool sensation of skin on skin, slightly damp from perspiration or contact with my warm overly insulated body on theirs. I can feel it across so much of me in new directions as I contour to their body. It creates this mental map of myself that gives such an incredible sense of myself. There's also all those wonderful subtle gestures in body language that are so much louder with how I closely my softness presses into every inch it can find. Our bodies sharing our emotions to eachother in such a lovely and quite way. And my favorite, the way I can feel their muscles tone change as I relax more of myself onto them giving that wonderfully intoxicating sensation of mass. Yes, struggle and strain while I lounge and soften out. Playfully asking the question, "I'm not too heavy am I?"

[siberat]

Xmas Treat

So, one tradition Rat/chet and Dri/ft do is find any reason to celebrate. Usually, Cybertr/onians do not recognize the human tradition of Christmas; it’s more of a solstice celebration. Still, if there is any excuse for Dr/ft to spend time in the kitchen cooking and baking, he’ll take it. Rat/chet is finishing his shift in the med bay, and the busy chef has every burner on his stove and even the oven going. He has cooking down to a science, and soon his lover pings him that he is on his way back.

Perfect timing: the food is ready to be plated!

For the holiday meal, he cooked a cyber-turkey with all the sides. A large serving of the hot, tender cyber-meat is plated up consisting of big slivers of the breast, the CM/O’s favorite. A mound of sandstone stuffing seasoned with feldspar flakes and mashed crystal potatoes flavored with rich calcite are added. A large ladle full of thick, brown-colored stock gravy is splashed over these three, soaking them in savory and aromatic goodness. For an added crunch, ener-beans coated in coquina are added as well as something sweet: crystal cranberry slivers.

The heaping plate is set on the table, and the second plate placed on the opposite side is less full. Of course, seconds were available, but Dr/ift had no problem fixing his conjunx’s plate for him. He loved seeing the dish get filled again with all the pretty colors of the food and delicious smells. And Dr/ift being the sap he is, lit some candles and poured a tall glass of Engex for the medic. He poured some non-engex drink for himself to enjoy.

The door swooshed open just as the sword/smech set his drink on the table. Rat/chet was home and wore a smile on his face as he smelt the meal. His supplies were quickly discarded as he sat at the table, eyeing up all the tasty food. Of course, the medic exclaimed he did not have to go all out on him like this like he always says. And Dr/ift always responds the same way: it's never a problem ensuring the love of his life is well fed.

The pair eat their meal. While there is some chit-chat, most of the time is enjoyed savoring the food. A chorus of hums and lip-smacking is heard, signaling what an excellent job the TIC did cooking the meal. Once the medic’s plate is cleared, Dri/ft lovingly asks if he wants more, which Rat/chet cannot deny. A second plate is fixed and set down, both mechs smiling.

Dr/ift doesn’t return to his seat: he finished his meal. Instead, he leans over behind the medic’s chair, rubbing his servos down the medic’s chest, tracing seams as the touch travels down to the much-rounder tummy. What was once flat now bulged in such soft, squishy delightfulness! And this was what Dr/ift loved to grope and knead. The warm flab accumulated not only on the front of his abdomen but also on the sides. Love handles gathered and spilled over his hip plating; some even began squishing out the back. The medic’s lap would hold the swell of his growing belly, the bottom roll resting perfectly on top of thickened thighs.

And no part of this belly went untouched. First to be caressed was the crest, hands circling around its vast curves. Next, the chub crease would be traced, then prodded: this fold of fat was the desired place to warm chilled servos, much to the owner’s displeasure-who would want cold hands in there stealing your heat? This chub crease formed when the medic sat and was the deepest at his sides, then the fold tapered as it reached out to the front of the paunch.

But one of the most joyous places to grope was the side flab. This plump section was always the softest, in Dr/ift’s humble opinion. The chub here was ever so soft and squishy like it was a stress relief toy. And the swords/mech loved to squeeze the love handles between his servos! But what came next was also Dri/ft’s favorite (it is really hard to choose just one): the heavy, firm, but still soft, lower belly flab that sat upon the lap. Now, the correct way to fondle this mass was to slip your hands on the underside to properly feel the heaviness of the mass. Some jostling was good: doing so showed off the jiggly belly nicely. Once servos reached the front, they would set out to caress the rounded roll, enjoying the heft of the gut and feeling the hint of thighs on the other side. This part took a lot of the TI/C’s attention. His hands would adoringly rub over this swollen mass, starting with delightful small circles but broadening their surface area to incorporate the belly. Playful slaps and pats would ensue, and gently hitting the flab gave off such a soothing sound.

Even better was if the belly was noisy: much to Dri/ft’s enjoyment, there was growling and whining present today. The stomach gurgled its delight at being given such tasty food to enjoy and a lot of it. With each lovely, deep-sounding rumble, Dr/ift swore he felt the belly vibrate within his servos. It was as if this stomach had a mind of its own and took it upon itself to tease him in every possible way! Soon, said belly began to gurgle in a particular way as if something was building up inside. Don’t worry; the sword/smech knew what this was. Using two digits, tight little circles were pressed into the growing flab. The touch moved locations slightly and repeated. It didn’t take long for the gas bubbles to make a break for their freedom, and the medic loudly barked out a burp.

Dri/ft loved watching his lover belch. In many cultures, belching was compliments to the chef, signaling a perfect meal. However, no matter how much reassurance the TI/C gave, the medic always flushed slightly as releasing such loud burps. And Dr/ift couldn’t get enough of that shy look adorned by his lover, along with the reddening of his cheeks with a hint of an embarrassed smile. Remember, Dri/ft can be sappy, so this usually turned his insides into goo!

Once supper was finished and no more was desired, Dri/ft would lovingly pat at the firmer, swelled belly, telling what a good job it did consuming all this food. Ratc/het would sit back, weighed down by his stuffed belly, ready for a nap. But there was no rest for the weary because once the dinner plates were cleared, out came the dessert plates: loaded with sweet cakes, pastries, pies, and other assortments of delicacies. The medic couldn’t say no to his belly growling and rumbling, demanding to be filled with such rich goodness. And naturally, Dr/ift stood with utensils at the ready: he was not about to disappoint. He was prepared to feed these scrumptious-looking deserts into that demanding belly, and Ratc/het was excited.

...........

Hope everyone has a great holiday! Stay safe and warm!

[no-see-um-incorrect]

I DONT WANT WEREWOLVES I WANT WEREBEARS

you see media about werewolves all the time I don’t want that I’m sick of it I want WEREBEARS

-Soft squishy, bear Boi good for cuddles

-bearhugs

-Forest picnic dates.

Y’all are skipping out on the werebear 



[authoresswillowraine]

Bless Your Heart

[TW: Explicit language, gun usage, blood, death]

The night was pitch black and the smell of fresh death hung in the air. It enveloped me and permeated my senses to the point of being damn near overwhelming. The velvety copper scent was so thick I could all but taste it on my tongue. My mouth watered more with each forward step.

Blood. A lot of fucking blood.

If I had a pulse, it would’ve quickened. My long still heart wanted to pound inside my chest. It was like a wild thing clamoring to break free from its cage made of bone and flesh. Good thing it wasn’t possible.

A warm breeze danced over my cool skin, and whipped my long, thick black hair around my face. The faint sound of thunder roared from a few miles away. The storm was headed for me, not that I was frightened to be out in it. Storms energized supernatural beings and I was no exception. I relished the feeling of the electricity that played upon the wind. I knew it was getting closer with each passing second until it was right above me. A deafening ‘CRACK’ brought me up short, and I shot bolt right up in my bed.

Whoever says vampires ‘die’ at daybreak and that we don’t sleep, nor dream was either lying or believed everything fiction said about us. I slept – even snored and I dreamt in vivid details. Usually, it took me several long minutes to fully come back to reality upon waking.

The storm, however, was very real and had worked itself into my subconscious to play in my dream. The lightning was fierce and flashed brightly in my pale gray eyes. It broke through my new “guaranteed” blackout curtains – which I made a mental note of. That could be a safety issue if the sunlight ever shone through them for lesser or younger vampires. Sunlight didn’t kill even the youngest among us, but it was uncomfortable and at times, painful. It could cause hives or burns in younger vampires or weaker ones. For older, Master vampires like me it was little more than an annoyance. I didn’t enjoy the sunlight, but it wasn’t detrimental to my health in any way. Sunshades were all I required to combat the discomfort. But I hated the heat and didn’t feel much more kind about the cold. I preferred Fall.

‘Fuck.’ I thought, still salivating from the copious amounts of blood in my dream. The craving motivated me to get out of bed and do something about it before it got to be overbearing. I checked the clock on my phone: 3:21 A.M. I had gotten two whole hours of sleep before I was jolted awake. Once I was awake I played hell at going back to sleep, so it was going to be a long day for me.

My bare feet shuffled across the luxurious carpet on my bedroom floor before they hit the warming tiles of the hall that led into my kitchen. Most of the flooring throughout my home was heated. Except for the bedrooms which were all thick, lavish carpeting that matched the rest of the décor in them.

I kept emergency blood in my fridge from willing donors, which after a little heating up, would work. I preferred to feed from a living being, but I wasn’t one to call and request it at this hour. Unlike some Master Vampires, I also didn’t keep a house of willing ‘feedees’ at my beck and call. My modest home – at least from the outside- was my oasis. My sanctuary. I seldom let anyone gain entry, and those that did were trusted confidants. There were very few humans who’d had access to my home, and none who had been there by anything other than free will. I didn’t like to use my vampire powers to feed or get laid. It wasn’t my thing, because it was rape, no two ways about it. It didn’t matter if I was taking blood or having sex, consent was a requirement, not an option. I didn’t bring home ‘just anyone.' If I did that may require compulsion at the very least and wiping their memories after they left me at worst. Both of which would be rape in that scenario. No, I had willing sources and lovers, but I wasn’t up to either this night.

The best device I had found to warm the refrigerated blood was a baby bottle warmer. Don’t laugh, it worked. I could heat it to whatever temperature was my preference without scalding my mouth. You only heat the blood too long in the microwave once before learning your lesson. Blood scalds and because it’s so thick it burns far more than an instant. Luckily I healed almost immediately but it doesn’t mean I didn’t feel the pain.

As I waited for my blood to reach the perfect temperature I mulled over the dream I couldn’t shake. I had a few witches I could call upon to decipher the dream. Villia, my favorite of them all, would tell me that my instincts about what the dream meant would be more accurate than anything she could tell me. I liked any advice that told me to trust myself. After all, I had kept myself 'alive' for over four hundred years, so I couldn’t be too awful at this gut instinct thing.

I had a nagging feeling that the dream was a premonition of something bad. That dark times were ahead. Of course, I hoped like hell I was wrong, but until it happened there was no way for me to prepare. I just had to wait and see. Premonitions were the least reliable of my skillset. That sucked because it seemed like it could be one of the most useful powers if I could harness it better.

I made a mental note to ask Villia about premonition. She’d be able to help me sharpen my ability or have an idea of who could assist in that area. I wasn’t sure why I hadn’t asked her before now. Another myth about us, not so mythical creatures? We were reborn with all the cool powers, like superheroes, but painted like villains.

The truth was, we came over with anything from zero extrasensory gifts, to several but not all. There were ways we could gain extra powers, and none in a pleasant manner. To enjoy gaining power, one had to find their true pairing. Doing that was about as likely as finding a hay-colored needle in a haystack. Chances are slim to none, that is.

Blood ingested; my mind no longer raced. I grabbed my remote and clicked on the television to keep me company. Once upon a time, I’d fallen into the couch potato trap. That phase had caused a bout of depression that I thought was going to put an end to my long existence. I had no idea how people made it their go-to for entertainment.

I had every channel and streaming service, yet only watched enough television so I could carry on a conversation. I avoided mainstream media like the plagues I had gotten through unscathed. If you know, you know. Instead, I kept up on news from independent and reliable sources – contacts on the inside. I knew World leaders, politicians, and their right hands. I knew military members, indie reporters, and had those types of connections. It was far more reliable and way less sensational.

The television now offered a soft glow and soothing murmuring of a random infomercial so that I no longer sat in complete silence. This was the only time I felt the deep loneliness settle into my bones. The stillness of the night and early morning hours when I only had myself to keep me company. These are the hours when I’d love to be able to wrap my arms around someone. When I wanted to experience what some of those closest to me had explained with goofy smiles on their faces. A sense of peace, of wonder, that they had found another being who added to their happiness. Unconditional love for those of them lucky enough to have it. Those relationships seemed to be rare among everyone I knew, however. We lived in what the younger generations referred to as a hookup culture. Sex had become God; love was far down the list. I understood it, somewhat. As much as I craved someone when the loneliness crept in, I had fought hard not to have anything substantial. Sex was easy, and a need. Love was something that made you weak if you allowed it. I couldn’t afford to be weak. I had too many people depending on me for their entire existence. I would not risk anyone else, let alone everyone else to abate my passing bouts of loneliness.

My eyelids drooped and I let my head fall back against the back of my bright white, overstuffed couch. I was miraculously about to doze off when a feeling washed over me. It was a warning. Someone was around the perimeter of my home, and they weren’t familiar. They wanted something, and it had to be something pressing to bring them out in an electrical storm. I was up, gun in the waistband of my pajama bottoms before they had a chance to knock on my door.

Country, gun-toting, mamaw loving, dad-bod having Vampires? Hell yes! I've got you covered. First 3 episodes will be FREE on Vella. Subscribe to see where Giddeon goes, and how well an almost 7 ft tall, country boy vampire fits in.

[gordopickett]

The NASA Jumpsuit (For All Mankind indulgent chub love fic)

Summary: After Gordo tries, unsuccessfully, to squeeze into his NASA jumpsuit, instead of letting him get rid of it, you make him keep it. He is confused until a couple of months later when you have him try it on again, knowing full well that he has not lost a single pound in that time.

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: For All Mankind (TV 2019) Rating: Not Rated Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Gordo Stevens/Reader Characters: Gordo Stevens, Reader Additional Tags: Episode: s02e03 Rules of Engagement (For All Mankind), Chubby Gordo Stevens, chubby teddy bear Gordo Stevens, teddy bear Gordo Stevens, chub kink, Belly Kink, tummy love, belly love, chub love, fat appreciation, Body Worship, no explicit content, just suggested, this is my first character x reader fic Series: Part 10 of For All Mankind Summary:

After Gordo tries, unsuccessfully, to squeeze into his NASA jumpsuit, instead of letting him get rid of it, you make him keep it. He is confused until a couple of months later when you have him try it on again, knowing full well that he has not lost a single pound in that time.

[lovelybucky1]

Ok! I don't know if you can write about a wolverine who is obsessed with an older student at mansion x, what's the surprise? That she has a daddy kink with him because he has daddy issues-.

Professor!logan x student!fem!reader w daddy kink pleaaaaseee (Obviously reader is of legal age but there is Age gap between she and logan, and of course, smut!)

Cliché (Logan Howlett x Reader)

Logan isn’t a teacher by any means. He doesn’t have a lot of patience and prefers just to do rather than show people how it’s done. Xavier didn’t really give him a choice to be a teacher or not. He led Logan into a classroom full of students one day and told him to have at it. Logan wasn’t pleased with Charles, but he managed to improvise well enough. He’s been teaching since then, and while it is more bearable than he thought it would be, he still isn’t a fan. That is, until you showed up in class.

You caught his eye immediately. He could justify it to himself more if you were playing the part of the slutty student wearing short skirts and dropping your pencil so that you could give him a flash of your tits when you bent down. But you weren’t doing any of that. You were just a normal student, taking notes, listening intently, and raising your hand when you knew the answer. You weren’t trying to tempt him into anything, and Logan was a creep for wishing that you were. 

He pushed these thoughts to the back of his mind and for the most part, he was successful. He was able to compartmentalize well enough to be an effective teacher and not sport a half-chub in the middle of every class. He thought he had finally gotten over his stupid crush that he was way too old to be having, but then you had asked him for extra help.

Like the beginning of every student-teacher porno, you came to his “office hours”, which really meant you knocked on his bedroom door late one night. You were having trouble understanding whatever dull topic Logan was teaching that week, which was unusual for you because you study frequently. You asked him to explain and he did, walking you through it to the best of his ability. Logan was suspicious because the topic wasn’t difficult to understand, and you’re a smart girl. 

After fifteen minutes of you nodding along to his explanation and occasionally biting your lip, Logan called you out. 

“You don’t really need help understanding this, do you?”

You looked up at him, wide-eyed like you were just caught with your hand in the cookie jar.

“Yes I do,” you respond hurriedly. “I told you, I was a little confused by all of the information.”

Logan shook his head. “We’ve gone over topics much more difficult than this and you had no problem. Why don’t you tell me why you’re really here?”

Logan couldn’t help but wonder if his inappropriate fantasies were coming true. It had all the cliches: office hours, a smart girl playing dumb, a half-assed excuse to be close to him. He can hear your heart beating quickly, and when he sniffs the air, he can smell a musky tang of arousal.

He turns to face you, and suddenly you’re unable to meet his eyes. You’re looking down at where you’re fiddling with the hem of your shirt. Nervous, embarrassed. Gently, he places his hand under your chin and tilts your head up. You timidly look at him, eyes searching his for any signs of anger.

“What’re you doin’ here, dollface?” he asks.

He’s hoping, praying, that you don’t say what he so badly wants you to say. 

“I just… wanted to see you,” you respond. You know it makes you sound crazy, but you can’t think of any other explanation that isn’t entirely inappropriate. He doesn’t say anything, but you feel compelled to word-vomit. “I wanted your attention and this was the only way I knew how to get it and I’m so sorry, I know this is so inappropriate. Please just forget about this and I’ll drop your class-”

Logan shushes you. “You wanted my attention?” he asks. You nod hesitantly. “What for?”

You shrug, but Logan doesn’t take that for an answer. “I’m attracted to you.” 

You wince as you rip off the band-aid, and you’re so scared to see your professor’s reaction. He should yell at you, call you all sorts of names for your disgusting fantasies, kick you out of the room and have you expelled. But he doesn’t.

“That right?” Logan asks with a smirk. “You’re all worried just ‘cause you have a little crush?” Maybe it’s mean to tease you, especially when you’re looking at him like you’re about to cry, but he can’t help it. “You know I’m too old for you.”

You shake your head. “You’re not too old for me.”

Logan hums. “Then you’re too young for me.”

“I’m an adult,” you pout. “I’m not too young.”

“Sweetheart,” he sighs. “I’m your teacher. I’m old enough to be your father.” Logan takes note of how your eyes sparkle at that. “You like me because I’m old enough to be your father.”

You look away shyly, and that gives Logan all the confirmation he needs. 

“Y’know, ever since I met you, I’ve been trying not to think about how much I want to bend you over one of those desks. It made me feel so fuckin’ guilty for thinking about you like that, but this whole time, you’ve been sittin’ in my class, thinking about me being your daddy.”

Your eyes widen at his words. When you devised this little plan and walked in here, you thought you would chicken out, much less have it lead anywhere. 

“I have been thinking about that,” you say.

“I’d be real sweet to ya, baby. Give you everything you’ve been wanting.”

The two of you are crossing so many lines, but neither of you seem to care anymore. He’s wanted you for weeks and as morally upstanding as he tries to be, he is still just a man.

“I want it,” you say, voice barely above a whisper.

Logan’s hands are on your hips, grabbing at your skin possessively as he smashes his lips against yours. He dominates the kiss, but you don’t mind the pinch of your lips between his teeth. It’s messy and wet and everything you’ve been dreaming of while you watch him in class. 

Your back hits the door and Logan keeps you pinned against the surface. You’re helpless to do anything but take what he gives you; his large body covering you entirely. His hands find their way under your ass and he tells you to jump. He holds you up with ease as you wrap your legs around his waist. He grinds against you, your little scrap of lace panties rubbing the bulge in his jeans. He’s thankful that you decided to wear a dress because the idea of fumbling with more than one pair of pants right now pisses him off. 

He manages to get his pants undone and pushed low enough to free his cock. Your panties get pulled to the side and his fingers slot themselves inside of you to work you open. Your face is buried in Logan’s neck, where you muffle all of your whines and moans. You’re certain that anyone out in the hall would be able to hear you, but you can’t bring yourself to care. If anything, Logan would be the one to get in trouble for sleeping with a student. You’d just be an innocent victim.

“Daddy,” you moan when he rubs that spot deep inside of you. 

“Shh, baby, Daddy’s got you,” he coos.

He continues to open you up on his fingers until he deems you loose enough to take him. When he pulls out his fingers, he wipes them on his thigh before grabbing his cock and positioning it at your entrance. He pushes in slowly, allowing you to adjust to the stretch.

You both groan simultaneously as he bottoms out. You’ve never felt so full in your life, and your pussy feels like heaven around his aching cock. You’ve both been craving this taboo relationship for so long and now that it’s finally real, it’s making your head spin.

“So fuckin’ tight,” Logan growls against your neck as he begins to rut into you.

His gruff voice, casual display of strength, and the feeling of him inside you work together to light your body on fire. Your teeth dig into your bottom lip as you attempt to stifle your moans. 

“Logan,” you gasp after a particularly hard thrust.

“Keep sayin’ my name like that and this won’t last much longer,” he tells you.

The thought that you doing something so simple as moaning his name could bring him to the edge boggles your mind. The Wolverine coming undone for some girl, a student, no less. You find yourself on a bit of a power trip, knowing what you’re doing to him. It’s only fair because he’s been torturing you for weeks without even knowing it.

You reach down between your bodies to rub at your clit. It’s sensitive from neglect, but as soon as you make contact with it, that coil in your belly starts to tighten. Hot waves of pleasure roll over your body as Logan drives his cock into you. Each bump of your g-spot causes a moan to escape from your mouth and he responds with groans of his own. 

“Logan, Logan,” you pant. “Daddy! I’m close, I’m gonna cum.”

Logan’s teeth find your neck. He bites at the skin under your ear and in the back of your mind, you wonder if he’ll leave a mark.

“Cum for me, princess. Gush all over my dick,” he mumbles against your skin.

You do exactly that. A few moments later, you’re clenching around his length as you rub tight circles over your clit. A moan rips from your throat as your orgasm hits you like a ton of bricks- or a ton of feathers, they weigh the same.

Logan staves off his orgasm long enough for you to ride out yours. Once you come down, he pulls out of you and jerks himself off to completion. Hot, thick ropes of cum paint your stomach and you watch in awe as the muscles in his arm move with the action.

You both stand there, your back against the door, as you catch your breath. You look up at him with slightly glazed eyes; your mind hazy with the remnants of your pleasure.

“Thank you,” you breathe out.

“Nothin’ to thank me for, dollface,” he says.

Logan bends down to scoop you into his arms. He walks you the few feet over to his bed and lays you down gently before grabbing some tissues to clean you off. You tell him you could’ve walked, but he shushes you and replies “Let me take care of you.”

You do, and it feels like the closest to heaven you’ve ever been. The man of your dreams just fucked you stupid and is now coddling you in his bed. What could be better than this?

Logan rids himself of the rest of his clothes and joins you on the bed. He slings an arm over your waist and pulls your back flush to his chest so he can spoon you. He tucks your shoulder under his chin and presses a kiss to your neck, close to the spot he sunk his teeth into earlier. 

“Does this mean I get extra credit, professor?” you ask, giggling.

“Don’t push your luck, kid. You still gotta do your homework.”