#full belly mode
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hippopopotas · 9 months ago
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0877. Morpeko
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dragon--n93tcg · 11 months ago
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ourpokemonteamtournament · 1 year ago
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Wait Haven't We Been Here Before?
If you vote please reblog to help us get as wide a net as possible. Round 27 Masterlist
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pokesmashorpokepass · 1 year ago
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fairyprince7 · 1 year ago
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Greedling with Morpeko
You understand
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sugar-softies · 1 year ago
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I've had more than two drinks, and as such now I need to be teased quite badly
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poguehearted77 · 3 months ago
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Baby Steps
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Summary: You and Rafe are expecting your first child and decide to take a trip to the beach, not expecting to be joined by a guest with chubby cheeks and pull ups.
-some more domesticated rafe as per your request-
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The golden hues of the late afternoon sun stretch across the horizon, casting a warm glow over the beach as you and Rafe arrive. You smile at the feeling of the hot sand between your toes.
The waves lazily lap against the shore, creating a serene soundtrack to your special day. It was a beautiful day out, for sure. With the cooler gripped in one hand, with the umbrella on top, and the box containing a special mini cake in his other hand, Rafe is already in full preparation mode.
“Here, let me help with that,” you offer, but Rafe shakes his head, his grin both charming and determined. "You're already carrying something valuable, let me handle the rest, okay?" Rafe reassures you as he places the items down in a nice vacated space.
Far enough from the waves to not get wet, but close enough to still hear the water cracking against the sand at an amplified volume as the perfect white noise for you to do some beach reading. You glance down at your rounded belly, letting your left hand rest over the precious cargo he's referring to.
"I'm only four months, babe. I can still carry things. Just let me help you set up at least." You hold onto the muscle of his upper arm with a soft frown and he can't resist. An idea visibly dawned upon him. "Yeah, you know what." He props open the cooler and pulls out a chilled bottle of water, "I need you to drink this, I don't want you to get too hot."
Your eyes roll and you take the bottle, about to ease yourself down onto the beach chair when Rafe is suddenly behind you, a guiding palm on your lower back to lighten your load as you sit down. "Rafe, you're joking, right? I know how to sit down by myself." You huff and he sees you're starting to get frustrated.
He crouches down to be near you, "Look, baby. I'm sorry, okay? It's all just so new to me and I don't want anything to happen to you or the baby especially not if I can help it." Your arms unfold, and your composure melts under his apologetic gaze.
How could you be mad at him? He was just so cute and excited to be a dad, he wanted to make sure you had the safest, most comfortable pregnancy possible, and he made sure of that at all times. He set up everything while you didn't lift a finger.
You'd even slipped into a light nap as he did so. Waking up under the shade of the beach umbrella and almost certain there was an extra layer of sunscreen on your arms that wasn't there before.
Your towels laid out on the sand in front of you where Rafe knelt, the cake now put away in the cooler as he organized the supplies in the first-aid kit he insisted on bringing along.
"Is this all you're gonna do all day?" You mumble, lifting up your sun hat a bit to see him better and he smiles. "Well, you fell asleep on me, so I was keeping myself busy." Taking that as your cue to stand, leaving your hat behind on the chair and untying the flowy coverup you'd been wearing.
"I'm up now, let's get in the water." He's right behind you as your heels kick up sand with your eager steps to the ocean. Your laughs blend harmoniously in the water. Playful splashes and stolen kisses fill your afternoon for the next hour until you're ready for lunch.
Now Rafe was lounging under the shade, sunglasses covering his sky-blue eyes as he relaxed on the chair. Meanwhile, you enjoyed the warm sun kissing your skin as you sat on the towel, preparing some sandwiches for you both to share.
That brings you to now, the two of you sitting on the sandy towels with satiated appetites and a pleased smile on your faces, enjoying each other's company. "You ready now?" Rafe proposes, referring to the mini cake in the cooler which had either a pink or blue filling. You shake your head.
"Not yet, I need more time." He laughs, "At this rate, you'll find out when the baby comes." He says casually and your brow arches, "Only me? Don't you mean the both of us?" His head shakes, "Uh uh, I'm eating that cake with or without you." He jokes and you swat at him, causing him to spill some water from the bottle he was sipping before putting it away.
His attention was stolen from you and focused on something behind you, before you could even turn your head, Rafe's reflexes are shown as his arms reach out for the tumbling toddler who'd tripped over the uneven terrain and it seems she'd been running at a pace faster than her chunky legs could keep up with.
"Woah! Hey there, pudding," The nickname rolls off Rafe's tongue so naturally you hardly even recognize it, she looks up at him from within his stronghold. "Hi!" She waves and Rafe smiles so big it warms your heart to see.
"Where are your parents?" He follows up but she busies herself with the chain around his neck, blabbering the words 'Dada' in the sweetest voice you'd ever heard.
Rafe's eyes crinkle at the corners with his smile as he looks at you, mouthing the words, "She's so cute" and you mouth back, "I know," "I wonder where her parents are." You say, checking the tag on her swim top for any signs of identification but nothing. The two of you stand, the toddler hanging off Rafe's side, having the time of her life with a cheeky smile.
The two of you paced the beach, up and down. "I know her parents are worried sick," You mutter, checking your phone for any services you can contact for a 'lost baby on the beach please help!'
"If they don't come back, do you think we can keep her?" Rafe inquires and you laugh, "It's probably every parent's nightmare to hear a stranger say that as you're holding their missing child." You say, stopping in your tracks and placing your hands on your back with a sigh, worn out from all the walking.
"Are you okay?" Rafe checks in and you nod, "Maybe we should just go back and wait? Her parents might be walking around too and we keep missing them." Rafe agrees and the three of you walk back to your place on the beach, each of you holding her hand as she had insisted on being put down.
You kept her busy once you returned to your spot, building sand castles and giving her some water and sunscreen to keep her hydrated and protected from the slowly setting sun.
"How old are you?" Rafe laughs at your attempts to have full conversations with who he assumes is a two-year-old, but your guess was three. "Me Ava." She says and your eyes widen. Your initial question remained unanswered but now you had other answers.
"Ava! Hi Ava!" You coo, tickling her tummy until she's a bundle of fits and giggles, completely oblivious to the longing look Rafe has on you. "Tummy!" She says, and you laugh, not sure what she's talking about until she places a hand on your belly. "Big tummy!" She repeats and Rafe can't help but stifle a laugh at her direct observation.
"That's right. There's a baby in here." You explain but her head tilts, lost. "Baby?" You gave the soft waves of her hair a gentle pat, admiring her innocence, "Yep, it's either a girl baby or a boy baby." To your surprise, she begins chanting for a 'boy baby'. "See, Ava gets it." Rafe teases, always taking the opportunity to talk about having the boy he so desperately begs you for as if you had any say in the matter.
"Hungry," She whines and that sends Rafe digging into the cooler for snacks. You let her decide which fruit she wanted but her eye had caught sight of the mini container of cake that had been taken out in order to find the other items.
"Looks like she knows what she wants," Rafe smiles and you think about it, "We can't give her sugar, Rafe. Here, do you want some watermelon?" Her focus now is on the juicy red fruit you presented to her on a plate.
She must be fond of it, slurping up the juices and making a mess of her top. Fortunately, it was later washed off with the salt water when Rafe insisted on playing with her after she'd digested her food.
The sun was slowly beginning to set and the three of you had been lounging around for the last thirty minutes or so, when Ava made a loud shriek, "Mama!" She yelled, hopping off the towel and into her mom's arms.
Ava's mom graces you with a tight hug and a desperate stream of never-ending apologies and gratitude. She congratulated you on the little one you were expecting, confident you'd be amazing parents. "Now, what do you say to the nice people who watched you, Ava?" Her mom prompts, with what you could imagine is a very secure hold on Ava's hand, ensuring she doesn't slip away again.
"Thank you!" She beams, showing off her tiny baby teeth and you feel a twinge of sadness at the thought of her leaving. The last two hours, though chaotic, gave you the reassurance you were looking for with the whole parenting thing.
You wave them goodbye and you take a deep breath, "I'm ready," You don't have to explain anything more and you're both walking back to your spot to cut the cake. Only to see a toddler-sized footprint in it that Ava must've caused as she got up, denting the container and the contents inside smushing against its confines.
Pink.
"Wait…" You say, in disbelief, kneeling down with Rafe doing the same. "Are we-" He says, eyes misting over and you call him out, "Hey, I thought you wanted a boy." He holds you close, "I thought so too, but I'm honestly just glad it's with you." He brings you in for a kiss on your forehead. She's so loved already and she doesn't even know it.
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z-moves · 1 year ago
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Official wallpaper of Morpeko given away as part of a wallpaper challenge (ポケモン剣盾壁紙チャレンジ) held on the poke_times Twitter/X account to promote Pokémon Sword & Pokémon Shield
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littleguysdaily · 4 months ago
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You know how sometimes you tickle a cats belly and scrumble them up and they go full activated play mode and play bite your hand and then run around?
That is how it feels posting for you guys.
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playfully-sadistic · 4 months ago
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Getting yourself off again, angel? Second time today, isn't it? Or already the third, fourth, fifth? You're such a greedy, insatiable thing. Now, now, don't stop on my account - no, keep going, you're doing great.
But your touches are a little too intense, don't you think? A little too... on the nose, too obviously intended to make you come. Good little pets don't finish fast - if at all - no, they edge and edge, over and over again, until they finally get permission to let themselves go and succumb to their primitive needs. So... Lighter. Slower. No rubbing, only caressing, no fingering, only teasing your hole with your fingertips.
But first things first, fingers off entirely. Apparently, you need someone to guide you through the entire process, don't you? You're just too impatient and worked up, full of hormones and heat, to be able to regulate yourself, poor baby. Don't worry, I'll do it for you, step by step, nice and slow. Nothing makes it easier for you than having someone to order you around and tell you exactly what you're allowed to do. Now, isn't it extra fun that, even though nothing stops you from going further before I allow you to, we both know that you won't? You'll be good and behave, just for me, less even, just for a few written words, the illusion of a dom hovering over your barely clothed body and whispering sweet commands against the shell of your ear.
Touch your chest first. Even if it does nothing for you, even if you barely have any sensation in it, I want your fingers circling your nipples, your fingernails gently scratching over them, pinching them between two of them, pulling, massaging. Put on a show, as if someone was watching you. If you have some clamps around, get them, and tease yourself with them - not quite putting them on, but rubbing over your areola, using it to pinch and pull as well. Feel that, treasure? That's what you get for being patient and taking your time. That nice pulling feeling in your stomach... Yeah, that's good, isn't it? Good job. Toy with your chest and nipples some more, make them swollen, sore, red, make sure they already ache before you finally put on those clamps. If you don't own any, you go ahead right now, and order some. The most humiliating, the prettiest ones you can find. And I want you reading through this post again when they arrive, so you can properly get off to it.
Now, I'm sure by now your legs have fallen open all by themselves, mh? Revealing a soaked, hot mess in between, throbbing and begging for attention. So tempting to put your hand right in the middle of it and grope yourself, but you'll be good for me and keep your hands to yourself, love. For now, all you're allowed to do is let your fingers brush over your stomach... Drawing little circles around your belly button, long swirls that slowly go further down, ah, there's that nice feeling of your guts tensing up, isn't it? God, you're so predictable, such a simple thing. Oh, it's fine, you're merely a body in need of being fucked right now, no wonder your brain turns into simple mode.
Gently tease yourself with your fingernails along your lower stomach, before you move onto your thighs - oh, my, you're really desperate, spread them out as far as possible, and let me guess, you only just noticed now how far you've opened up, haven't you? A proper slut for the taking, good job, my angel. Touch your thighs, not the inner parts yet, just explore yourself, palms tracing your muscle, reaching up to your hip, moving onto your stomach again, where that nice, tight feeling comes back. Slowly let your fingers glide to the inner part of your thighs, where your ticklish, and it usually only works to get touched there when it's someone else's fingers, but, oh, fuck, darling, today's different, isn't it? Touching yourself so intensely, yet thoughtfully, it's really showing its effect on you, mh? That's perfect, you're doing so well, yeah, touch and tease your thighs some more, move those fingers up until...
Now you're allowed to move them right in between your legs. That feels good, hm? Finally letting your fingertips feel your own heat, swollen and twitching, feeling your own wetness, only caused by a post. Doesn't that truly show how desperately you need guidance and being made to feel utterly submissive? Don't keep those moans in, show everyone that you're such a needy, horny doll, so desperate to touch themselves. Why the modesty? Let it out. Rub yourself - slowly, dear - and feel yourself up, and know that you've done anything to this point because you followed orders, because you obeyed, because you just couldn't do it yourself and needed someone else so fucking badly, you needed someone to tell you what to do, does it feel like I'm there with you, do you like it, mh? Does it turn you on to know that I took the time writing this, for you to follow every step and work yourself up?
If you own a vibrator, you'll use it now. If it's the kind that you shove inside your needy hole, then do it, don't be gentle, don't be slow, shove it inside of you on the highest settings, as deep as it can go, and use your hand to continue rubbing. If it's the kind that you put on yourself, lay it on you, don't press it against you - we wouldn't want you to get too excited now, would we? - and shove your fingers inside of your instead. Fuck yourself. Make it good. Make it hard to not fall off the edge. Make it as rough and fast and overstimulating as you possibly can. Make it feel humiliating how fucking close it gets you that you're doing this in the first place. Feel the weight and tension that your heat brings - lean into it. Open your mouth, let the moans and whines and all those pretty noises out, don't close it to swallow, let your drool run down your chin - pant. It's getting hard to not come, isn't it? Poor baby.
Do you want me to give you permission? You do. I know. It's okay, baby, relax, keep fucking yourself open like that. A little patience.
Getting harder, mh? Feeling it in your guts already? God, you're so...
Think you can manage a bit longer?
Soon, my angel. You sound so good when you're desperate.
Almost there.
Ready, love?
Come for me, right now.
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ramp-it-up · 5 months ago
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Anatomy of a Kiss
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Summary: You and Logan agree on one thing: you both hate each other. So what happens when you kiss him?
Word count: 4.2 K
Pairing: Logan Howlett x Reader
Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. S MUT Not Beta’d. ONE DEADPOOL X WOLVERINE SPOILER AHEAD! Read at your own risk. S MUT! Enemies to lovers; snark to fluff, idiots in love; use of the words stupid, dumb, insipid as insults. Reader's father is either a mobster or a mutant villain, or both; (Reader may or may not be a mutant herself), a couple dark themes and mention of parent death; Reader has Daddy issues; Reader is a thicc girlie; Princess and Old Man as nicknames; there are two slaps; a tipsy kiss; povs switch thorughout the fic. pining; insinuations of masturbation, oral (f receiving), spitting, praise and degredation kink, size kink, creampie, cum play, explicit sex acts, raw p in v (wrap it up) voice kink, this Logan is Dom Logan.
A/N: This was in my soul for a couple of weeks, but I don't feel it's all that great. Here goes. Let me know if you like it by reblogging, liking and commenting please. Thank you. ☺️
I no longer have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘
I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.
-----
The biggest mistake that Logan Howlett ever made in his life was kissing you back.
Because now he was never going to get you out of his system. 
—--
You were celebrating.
Being being voted best small business owner and philanthropist in the city was a big fucking deal. You decided to let your hair down and let go of your famous self-control and discipline for one night.
And now you were tooted on most of a bottle of Moet and Chandon as you walked back to your high rise apartment from the civic center.
It was a perfect night and you stopped and smiled at the moon, feeling sublime. 
Until you heard his voice.
“Keep moving before I throw you over my shoulder and get you inside myself, Princess.”
You rolled your eyes at your body guard, the only thing your father offered you that you didn’t reject.
Because you weren’t stupid. 
Other than sharing his dna, you were not like your father at all, and you divested yourself of everything that had to do with him.
“What about the penthouse? You kept that.”
Your body felt engulfed as if by flames. You were angry, both at the fact that you’d apparently said all that out loud, and at Logan’s audacity.
“Fuck you, Howlett. The apartment is my mother’s. But she died because of my dad and that’s why he wants to “protect” me.”
You wobbled as you did your air quotes, and you could sense Logan ready to spring to catch you if you fell. You recovered quickly, however, refusing to give him the satisfaction.
“But he can't seem to do the one thing that will protect me. Get out of the life. He’s an old man, for heaven’s sake!”
Logan chuckled and shook his head.
“He’s not so old.”
You were in full blown argument mode.
“He’s over 70.”
“Like I said, he’s not so old. And you don’t know so much, little girl. Life is not that simple.”
“I am 32 years old, Mr. Howlett. I am not one of those little girls that fawn all over you. I am a woman.”
You straightened up and you knew that your thick body in the black cocktail dress was banging.
Logan’s eyes reflected your body, although he was staring back into yours. He’d taken it all in earlier.
“You are a teeny, tiny little Princess.”
He was fucking infuriating as he smiled down at you like that. The alcohol made you step to him.
“Someone needs to kiss that insipid smirk off your face, Howlett.”
That stupid eyebrow shot up, and your belly flipped.
Slap. You meant slap, but Logan was quicker than your champagne brain.
“I dare you, Princess.”
—-----
After what happened happened, you hightailed it back to your building, the electricity zapping around the elevator as you stared each other down. As soon as the doors opened, you moved as quickly as your tipsy legs would take through your foyer and living room and down the hallway to your bedroom door.
Logan followed you.
“Princess–”
The door slammed in his face, and he stood there for a good five minutes, restraining himself from knocking it down, before he relented and made his way back to his own room. 
He’d confront you tomorrow (later today), when you were sober.
—-
On the other side of the door, you were thinking of packing your bags and moving to South America. You needed a continent between you and Logan. How in the world had you allowed yourself to give in to a drunken urge that manifested the late night thoughts that you’d had for months? 
You were slipping. Bad.
You absolutely could not face him the next day. You leaned against the door, relieved when you heard him leave, and touched your lips. They still felt as if they were swollen from the kiss. 
You were sobering up now, remembering it. But just a few minutes ago that dare was all you needed to immediately lock your lips onto his. 
You also remembered the way he’d pulled away in shock and stared at your mouth for a beat before he grabbed your hair, pulled you close again, and kissed you so good that your toes curled.
“Fuck! Fuck fuck FUCK! Fuck my life!”
You were losing control. And that was not good. Not good at all.
Logan couldn’t get you out of his mind. 
And that pissed him off.
He lay in bed, and thought about how, (if he could die) under penalty of death he would never admit just how often he thought about you.
He’d been glad for the room at your place that came with the job; bunking with Wade and Althea was getting real old, real fast. 
But suddenly this arrangement felt too close for comfort.
You didn’t need to know about the fact that the movie playing behind his closed eyelids during his little shower workouts every night was your sexy smile, or the way your ass filled out your jeans. Especially those black ones.
And when he thought about you wearing those jeans with that wrap around shirt that showcased your tits just right. Well, fuck. He’d have gallons of cum for the shower drain.
Nah, you knowing that would only stroke your ego. Somehow, his mind drifted to the other things of yours that needed stroking.
“Oh, Fuck all!”
He sat up and sat on the edge of his bed, reaching for a cigar, reason number 634 why you hated him. 
But if you hated him so much, then why did you kiss him tonight?
—---
Why did you do it? You didn’t even like Logan. In fact you hated him.
Right?
You loathed the way he called you Princess, an obvious reminder that you were a trust fund baby, although you were far from a child, and to spite the fact that you were trying to make your own way.
You hated him from the top of his ridiculous thick hair, to the soles of his huge shit-kicker boot clad feet. You hated how tall and how ripped he was, the way his arm veins threaded atop the muscles there and led the way to his thick, calloused fingers that felt so nice against your skin.
You hated the chest hair that poked out from the top of the tacky tank tops and flannel shirts he always wore underneath the ever present leather jacket, and the way his blue jeans showcased the muscles in his thighs. 
And you absolutely NEVER accidentally gazed at his crotch and ascertained that he was packing.
That would be asinine.
And his stupid face. That was the kicker. Logan’s face would be handsome if he didn’t wear that ridiculous smirk all the time on that mouth that might look nice if he was normal. 
The mouth that felt nice against yours. 
That might feel nice against your…
You groaned around your toothbrush and rolled your eyes at yourself, fully sober now after a quick cold shower. But somehow your body was still warm and buzzing.
What the fuck had you done?
— 
Logan didn’t even like you.
You were bossy, irritating, loud. 
Fuck, you were loud, always chattering away to your customers, always smiling and making them feel at home. 
He absolutely loathed the way you were trying to make your own living, despite the fact that your father was loaded. Running a food truck with the best tacos in town drew hundreds of people every day and giving away a portion of your food to the unhoused every night was what irritated Logan the most. 
More people to watch.
He was sure you did it to surround him with more people to hate. He just knew that you liked pushing his buttons. 
You just reveled in being the anti-Logan.
The more he glared, the more you glowed. 
On fucking purpose.
The kicker was you cranking up the karaoke machine on Thursday nights and belting it out to Journey or REO Speedwagon. It was so annoying. 
Especially the way you closed your eyes and swayed to the music during the bridge. The happy look on your face wasn’t beautiful at all, it was simple, and he didn’t memorize every curve of your face because it was a dumb one.
He couldn’t get away, because he had three months left on the security contract your father signed with him.
It was unfortunate, because you just wouldn’t shut up.
Except when his tongue was in your mouth.
No. 
Even then, you made noises. 
Those delicious little moans that vibrated down his spine and made his dick harder with every second. Moans that made him see visions of your mouth wrapped around his cock. Moans that gave him a waking dream of you giving him head, and…
Fuck, now Logan had a raging hard on and could not sleep for the life of him. 
He really did not like you.
—--
Kissing Logan had you in a tailspin. 
You punched your pillow as you tossed and turned in bed and conjured positive thoughts.
You could forget this.
Pretend it never happened.
Convince yourself that he didn’t taste like heaven and hell and the best fucking thing in a long time.
You could forget.
It was fine.
Everything was just fucking fine. 
All you had to do was completely forget the way he made you feel when he slid his tongue into your mouth. It was easy. 
Except you were wet as fuck. 
“Listen, bitch. You are not doing me any favors right now,” you mumbled to your cunt. 
She didn't care. 
Your pussy just continued to clench on air as if to say, “He’s right down the hall. Let’s just go finish what we started.”
You groaned and tried to smother yourself with your pillow.
It didn’t work.
—-
Logan just kept thinking of the way you stared at him between kisses. Lips parted on a gasp, plump and soft, right before he'd slipped his hand on your neck and kissed you again. Now your taste haunted him.
Logan huffed and put his head in his hands. Flashes of the kiss played like a movie in his head. Finally, he stood up and went to his door, ready to settle this once and for all.
When he opened it, there you were, in just a black camisole and panties, and god, did he want you.
But there was your mouth again.
“I fucking hate you.”
The problem with that was, he could smell you. You might be saying that you hated him, but your body was calling him right now. And Logan’s knees were weak at the power of his lust.
When you looked him in the eye, you licked your lips, your eyes dilated, your nipples tightened into stiff peaks, and your pussy weeping for him, Logan knew it was the end of the line of his self-restraint.
You smelled delicious, like your mandarin orange body wash and your wet-for-him cunt. 
He stepped toward you and you slapped his face, leaving him with a grin on his face.
Then you slapped him again.
“You got it out of your system now? That anger?”
He cocked that damned eyebrow at you and moved even closer. 
“Or is it frustration?”
——
You were in trouble now.
Not because you were scared Logan was going to hurt you.
Just the opposite.
Logan dipped his head to smell at your pulse point, body so close, but never touching you. Your arms went to grab his impossible shoulders and that's when his huge paws grabbed your hips, dragging you further into his room as he backed toward his bed.
He was full on nuzzling your neck now, and your eyes were rolling as the tension between you two was finally ebbing.
The words came tumbling out.
“I’m so fucking angry that you get me so frustrated, you ass..”
You were turning your head toward his, wanting his lips again, on his lap now, crotch sat on his unbuttoned jeans, and refusing to move to ignite the fire.
Logan grunted at you.
“I see that. You’re trying to stare me down even though you are leaking all over me.”
Your body clenched and got wetter at the naming of that fact. You were terrified of what might happen next.
Yet you wanted it so badly.
——
Logan couldn’t wait any more.
He removed one hand from gripping the flesh at your hips that he’d fantasized about for months, to trailing up your cheek to your hair to take off your scarf.
His fingers were in your hair again and your eyelids stuttered as you mouth dropped open for air.
That made him so fucking hard. And it made him want to kiss you again.
He had to know.
“What are you here for, Princess?”
——
His sexy whisper would do you in.
For good.
“I don’t know.”
Logan was staring at you like you were the treasure chest at the end of a quest as you tried to remain as still as possible on his lap. It was so hard.
Logan was so hard beneath you.
“Oh? Let’s run it back to earlier when you weren’t letting that big brain of yours get in the way.”
Frustration surged within you and your mouth got reckless.
“Stop yapping and just do it already.”
——-
“There’s my girl,” Logan growled at you as his dick responded to the challenge and his eyes flashed at your tone.
“Always busting my balls, aren’t you? Need to give that smart mouth something else to do.” 
Before you could reply, Logan’s lips covered yours so perfectly that it was like magnetic puzzle pieces. You fit together and locked. 
Logan’s tongue traced your lower lip and he drew it into his mouth, nibbling, gently at first and then nipping more harshly, causing a gasp and enabling entry. His tongue swiped at yours as he dominated you.
You were not going to win this round.
——
You could only whimper and grab his shoulders tighter as he kissed you. For all that was holy, why did his kisses have to be so damn good?
One of your hands ventured into the thick hair you’d dreamt of feeling between your fingertips and pulled as your desire peaked. Then your palms went to his face as he pulled away and you squirmed as you realized what was about to happen. 
“What are you here for, Princess?”
That question again.
That voice. It rumbled straight to your core and Logan wasn’t letting you off the hook. 
Logan wasn’t letting you up off of him. 
The hardness of his metal button and zipper, but mostly him (oh god he was huge) chaffed your thighs as he sealed his lips over yours again and his hand went from your scalp down your neck and back to your hip again, holding you down to feel him.
You finally moved, smearing your wetness all over your panties and his jeans and Jesus, it felt so good.
——
Logan’s eyes took in all of you in your scanty clothing, following your every movement and when his eyes moved down to your damp panties he swallowed audibly. He clenched his jaw with the strain of holding back.
Logan couldn’t deny that he wanted you. His 200 year old heart felt brand new.
“Mmmmph. Here for this feeling Logan.” 
Your voice was the greatest symphony. His stomach clenched when you looked him in the eye.
“I’m here for you.”
You leaned forward and nuzzled his cheek with your nose, then whispered a demand in his ear.
“Touch me, Logan.”
Without thinking, but instinctively careful of you, Logan’s claws extended, shredding the sides of your panties and rendering them in pieces. 
“Fuck!”
You gasped as he stood up with you in his retracted grip and threw you on the bed, the scraps of your underwear abandoning you.
He couldn’t stand it anymore, he was so weak for you. He was on his knees at the foot of the bed as he ran his rough hands up and down your legs.
——-
“I’m touching you, now what?”
He spoke to you, but he was looking at the juncture of your thighs, at the well-manicured hair there, all casual, as if he weren’t teasing the hell out of you.
You had something for him.
“If you don’t know what to do, then I’ll show you.”
You reached up and took off your camisole and Logan’s eyes raked upwards and widened at the sight of what you were holding, which was your breast in one hand, as you pinched and rolled your own nipple. Your other hand trailed down your body as your legs fell open to give yourself access to your clit, which you had the nerve to play with in front of Logan’s face. 
——
Now he was the one who was angry.
Logan snarled, then batted your hand away.
“Careful Princess. Don’t poke the Wolverine.”
His hands tightened on your thighs and pulled you to the edge of the bed where he was.
———
Logan leaned down, his hot breath ghosting your pussy as he looked up at you with those gorgeous brown eyes. 
You couldn’t let the moment get too tender.
“What if the Wolverine wants to poke–”
Logan’s hand covered your mouth, cutting you off at just the moment he licked a long, hot, wet stripe up the center of you and then pursed his lips around your clit to suck at you ruthlessly.
Your smart ass remark was forgotten as a moan bubbled up into your throat. Logan took his hand away once it was clear that you couldn’t talk anymore, or at least that your capacity for sass had diminished. 
You were leaning up on your elbow and watching him feast on you, convulsing with each swipe of his broad tongue and each pull on your clit.
As mesmerized as you were at his skill, you managed to brush his thick dark hair away from his eyes so that he could see properly. You didn’t want anything getting in the way of the best head you’d ever received.
——-
Logan’s hands were now palming the most delicious meal he’d ever eaten; you were practically sitting on his fingers. For him, you tasted even better than you smelled. He couldn’t believe it.
He looked up at you incredulously, watching your breasts moving with each heave of your lungs trying to capture air, and your mouth open to capture it. He met your eyes and frowned at you as he reached down and stroked his pulsing cock.
“What’s wrong?”
“The fucking Cuties you eat all day long. They got you tasting like a fucking orange. ‘S fucking impossible.”
He yanked you closer and buried his face between your legs. You made those cute little noises with every swipe of his tongue, and he licked and sucked until you convulsed in his hands, screaming.
You were still trying to catch your breath before he was on you, licking and suckling your hard and soft breasts.
“Damn,” you murmured as Logan swiped his thick, bulbous head into your entrance and meeting resistance, “You’re so fucking huge Logan.”
It wasn’t the first time he’d heard that phrase, but coming from you it hit different. His chest puffed with pride.
Logn smiled into your neck, inhaling your scent and growling against your skin.
“Don’t be scared, Princess. I’ll make it feel good for you. I should be more worried than you are. I’m gonna split you open, but you are about to shatter me into a thousand pieces.”
He didn't mean to tell you the absolute truth. But he had.
Logan knew there was no coming back from this for him.
——
You shuddered at the words which were breathed over your skin.
Logan trailed the tip of his tongue up the side of your neck the looked you in the eye. It was too much.
You lowered your gaze and he chuckled, making you sigh when he tugged on your lobe with his teeth and started pushing inside you. It was slow, but sensual and somehow still desperate. 
With each increment of himself that he gave you, you felt destroyed, yet you wanted more. You clutched at his chest as you widened your legs for him, as if that would help.
“No one else has ever made me feel this way. Hurts so good, Logan. More. Please?”
The question was, were you just talking about his penis?
——-
You begging him made Logan want to cry as he slipped further inside of you. When he bottomed out, you both shuddered, you at the sensation of such fullness, and him at the way you were so snugly and warmly wrapped around him.
“Fuck! Princess. Should have known you would be hot and tight. But I wasn’t ready.”
Logan wasn’t ready for you at all.
—-
His pupils were completely blown and the look on Logan’s face made you clench down even tighter as he stroked deeper into you. 
“Y-yess, feels so good.” 
You felt like liquid in his arms. Your hands moved over his shoulders as you hitched your thigh around his hips. He ran his hand up your thigh and around to your leg, holding you in place as he began to pound into you harder.
You whispered a confession into his ear.
“I’ve dreamed about this so many times.” 
Logan lifted his head from watching his cock destroy you, his brow arched in surprise. 
“You’ve dreamt about me?” 
You bit your lip and nodded, all of a sudden feeling shy. 
“At night after a tense night between us, I’d go to my room and imagine that you’d follow me to…shut me up.”
Your lashes fanned your face as you smirked.
“Oh yeah?”
Logan swiveled his hips and you gasped. He was lighting you up from the inside.
“Sounds like a cool dream, Princess,” he said, leaning down to your ear.
“But you’re talking far too much in reality.”
And he began snapping his hips at a frenzied pace, causing your back to arch and your mouth to fall open, leaving you moaning until you screamed with your orgasm.
You couldn’t talk; hell you couldn’t even think when he was going like this.
——
At this point, there was no more finesse; Logan was stroking in and out of you, almost completely leaving you and reentering just to feel that sensation again. The way his fat cockhead breached you was like no other feeling in the world.
Your arched back was displaying your breasts to him at a perfect angle. It inspired something within him.
“Look at you Princess. All gorgeous and fucked out and taking this cock for me. All dumb now. Bet you like not having to think so much. Just take it like the good little slut you are for me, yeah?”
His filthy commentary made the coil in your belly snap, and you came like a freight train, squeezing him so much that he had pull out to keep from coming himself.
He kissed you as you could only whimper in protest. Logan felt a warmth blooming in his chest that he hadn’t felt in a long time, if at all, as you lay melted in his arms.
He couldn’t wait to be back inside you.
“Can’t tell you how many times I dreamt about having you under me just… like… this….”
And he slid back home.
“Mmm… those lips down there suck my tip so well, how will these lips do?”
Logan’s thick thumb was in your mouth and you swirled your tongue around it to show him what your mouth could do. He groaned and pried your mouth open with his hand.
“Keep it open and do what I say.”
——-
The band was tightening in your belly again. You knew what was coming and nearly came again when Logan spit into your mouth. The orgasms were blending together now.
“Swallow.”
You did, and Logan thrust into you hard an deep while thrumming your clit. That was all it took for you to cum again and this time, you gushed around him, making a mess on his bed.
He looked down in disbelief and laughed with glee, handling you like a fuck doll to do with as he pleased.
That's when you realized that you loved being used by him.
“Bet ya didn’t dream you’d be such a dirty little slut for me, did ya, Princess?”
——
Logan realized that he was your slut, too. He was lost to your sounds, the sight of your beautiful lust drunk face, and the feeling of your cunt squeezing him with multiple orgasms now.
He started tracing urgent circles on your clit again.
“Look at me.”
That’s when you said the most beautiful words to him.
“So fucking good L-Logan. Cum inside me. Please. ‘M on the pill.”
“Music to… my fucking.. ears….”
——
Logan’s fingers moved to your shoulders, holding you captive as he stroked deeper and harder. His harsh breaths in your ear increased, the most erotic sound in the world.
You clamped down on him and he growled, his cock pulsing as he spilled inside you, the warm wave of fluid combing and causing a lovely, filthy mess.
It was so satisfying.
And you couldn’t let it lie.
——
He pulled out and stared at the ceiling in disbelief, before looking over at you to find you playing in his cum and licking your fingers, leaning over to give him a taste on your lips.
“What? You tired, Old Man?”
He shook his head and laughed as his cock came back to life.
Kissing you back had been the biggest mistake of his life.
He was never going to get you out of his system.
And he wasn't sure he wanted to.
-----
You shivered as Logan loomed over you, with that damned eyebrow cocked and that smirk on his face.
“Oh Princess. You have no idea what you’re in for.”
Then Logan grabbed you and kissed you again.
——
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shybluebirdninja · 4 months ago
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Babe, You Got This
Summary: Logan might have faced wars, claws, and immortal enemies, but nothing prepared him for his wife going into labor.
Pairing            : Mutant!Logan Howlett x Wife!Human-reader Genre              : Fluff
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You’re lying in bed, feeling the occasional twinge in your belly when it hits you like a freight train: Oh shit. Your water just broke.
“LOGAN!” you yell, holding your breath because, damn, this really hurts.
From the kitchen, you hear a clattering of pots. Logan comes bursting through the door, spatula still in hand. “What? What?! What happened?! Is it—oh hell. Oh hell, darlin’, you good?”
You clutch your belly, sweat already dripping down your face, but for some reason, you’re the calm one here. “Yeah, babe, it’s happening. Baby time.” You manage a half-grin through the pain.
Logan, on the other hand, is losing it. “SHIT. Okay, okay, lemme grab the—wait—no, wait, do we have a hospital bag? Where’s the car keys? Where the hell are my pants?!” He’s pacing now, full-on panic mode, mumbling to himself about “damn doctors” and “how the hell did this happen.”
You just sit there, biting your lip, trying not to laugh because watching the big, bad Wolverine freak out is kind of hilarious. “Logan, babe, breathe. Just get me to the car. We’re fine.”
He’s running in and out of the room, still holding that damn spatula, and when he finally finds the car keys, he throws the spatula behind him like it’s a grenade. “Okay, okay, darlin’, we’re gonna get through this. You’re gonna be okay. You’re gonna—DAMMIT, I SHOULD’VE BEEN THE ONE PREGNANT!”
You blink. “Uh, what?”
Logan’s face is pure desperation. “I mean it! Shoulda been me. You don’t deserve this, I do! You’re too young for this shit. You shouldn’t have to deal with all this pain. I—dammit! Why can’t I be the one carrying the damn baby?!”
At this point, you’re wheezing, both from pain and Logan’s completely ridiculous freak-out. “Babe, that’s… not how it works.”
But he’s already on another train of thought, trying to hoist you out of bed with a mix of adrenaline and sheer terror. “Screw biology. I heal fast! I could’ve popped this kid out in, like, two hours tops! No pain! Why’d I go and knock you up? What the hell’s wrong with me? I’m a monster!”
You giggle in spite of yourself, even as a contraction tightens your entire body. “Babe, stop. I’m fine. Let’s just… go.”
Logan’s still mumbling apologies as he half-drags, half-carries you to the car. When he finally gets behind the wheel, the dude’s sweating more than you are. His knuckles are white on the steering wheel, and he’s muttering something about “never gonna let you get pregnant again” and “damn doctors better not mess this up.”
He glances at you. “You okay, sweetheart? I mean—fuck—this is my fault. You’re—dammit, I’m sorry, babe.”
“Logan, chill. Focus on driving.”
The next five minutes are pure chaos. Logan speeds through red lights, honking at random pedestrians, cursing every car in his way. “GET THE FUCK OUTTA THE ROAD! I GOT A PREGNANT LADY HERE, MOVE YOUR ASSES!”
You try to calm him down, but honestly, the sight of him panicking over your labor is too good. He’s shouting at no one, eyes darting between the road and you. And then, out of nowhere, the tough guy starts tearing up. Full-on tears.
“I’m sorry, darlin’. I never wanted you to hurt. I should’ve… I should’ve done somethin’. Maybe I coulda—oh, goddammit, why couldn’t I carry the kid?”
You laugh, despite the pain. “You? Pregnant? Can you imagine?”
“Don’t even joke about that!” he barks, but there’s a hint of something in his voice—like maybe he actually wishes he could.
When you finally get to the hospital, Logan’s a sweaty mess, practically carrying you through the doors while yelling for help. “HEY! HEY! My wife’s havin’ a baby! Somebody help her!”
The doctors rush you into a room, and suddenly it’s all systems go. Except… Logan doesn’t look so good. He’s pale, eyes wide, muttering something like, “I can’t believe I did this to her,” and—yep, he’s down. He collapses into a chair, one hand clutching his chest like he’s just been shot.
“Logan? Logan!” you call, but he’s already half-unconscious, mumbling apologies.
A nurse rushes over to him, placing an oxygen mask on his face while he’s laying on a hospital bed right beside yours. “We’re gonna take care of him,” she assures you.
For the next twenty minutes, it’s you, the labor pains, and Logan passed out next to you. Every once in a while, he mutters something from his semi-conscious state. “Should’ve… been me. So sorry, babe…”
When it’s finally time to push, Logan snaps awake like he’s missed the most important game of his life. “NO! I’m here! I’m here, darlin’!”
The doctor gives him a side-eye, trying to keep him calm. “Sir, are you sure you want to be in here? You’re not lookin’ too—”
“I’M STAYIN’. NO WAY IN HELL AM I LEAVIN’ HER SIDE.”
He grips your hand, tears streaming down his face. You can barely concentrate through the pain, but you manage to laugh when he whispers, “I’m so sorry, babe. I should’ve been the one. You’re too good for this.”
And then, the baby’s out. Logan’s crying—like, ugly sobbing. “He’s beautiful, darlin’. Oh god, he’s beautiful. Oh God… he’s so damn perfect.”
And then, because the universe has a twisted sense of humor, Logan’s eyes roll back, and he drops like a brick, passing out cold on the hospital floor.
The doctor sighs. “Well, there he goes.”
You laugh softly, exhausted but deliriously happy, as they haul Logan onto the bed next to yours, leaving you to marvel at both your baby and your overly dramatic, ridiculously tough husband, who fainted at the sight of his son.
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fangswbenefits · 2 years ago
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A Series of Firsts
𓂅 𓄹 Summary: You and Miguel are ready to become parents and you must now go through a series of firsts together.
𓂅 𓄹 Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x spider-woman!reader
No warnings. Just pure fluff. Mentions of pregnancy. Dad girl Miguel. Protective dad Miguel.
First Kick
“What colour should we have on the walls?” Miguel asked one day.
“Beige?”
“Boring.”
“Red?”
“Too much.”
“Red and blue?”
“That’s too… spidey.”
You giggled at his remark. “We’ll just pick a neutral one and let her decide as she grows up.”
“That’s settled, then,” he murmured, resting the side of his head on your baby bump as both of you lay comfortably on the bed.
“Fingers crossed for a zebra pattern in purple and green,” you teased.
“She can have whatever she wants,” he said simply and you knew he meant it.
Warmth spread in your heart, realising Miguel would give her anything she’d ask for. Even the moon.
As you rolled a single strand of his hair around your finger, you gasped abruptly and halted.
Miguel shot up straight in full alert mode. “What is it? Are you okay?”
You nodded, running both hands along your belly, waiting to feel it once more.
He immediately picked up on the meaning of your sudden silence and placed a splattered hand next to yours.
It didn’t take long for a second kick to be felt and you watched his face awe. “Does it hurt?”
“No,” you whispered adoringly at his concern.
He paused briefly. “That was a strong kick.”
You placed your hand atop his. “She’ll take after you, then.”
First Time Meeting
Jessica placed the little bundle of joy into his arms as soon as the spider-nurses were done checking the vitals and dressing her.
“What is this?” Miguel asked with a light scowl, shifting to have the sleeping baby face you.
Even through your post-labour exhaustion you managed to giggle.
She was dressed in a red and blue suit-like onesie that had Peter’s face printed onto the fabric as rainbow coloured words read ‘my 1st spider suit’.
“Remind again me why we let him choose.”
“You know how Peter is,” you said softly. “It’s a very cute gift.”
“Right.”
Miguel didn’t seem all that convinced, but brought her back against his chest protectively.
You watched as Miguel’s hardened face immediately softened in adoration and, for a couple of minutes, he just stood there, rocking her lightly in his arms.
“She’s… tiny,” he concluded, fingers probing around her hand. “She’s perfect.”
He raised her slowly up to his face and he planted a soft kiss to her forehead, earning a sudden yawn.
“Welcome home,” he whispered to her, completely transfixed. “I’ll always protect you.”
Something inside you stirred. This big grumpy man with volatile moods had just been disarmed by a tiny baby.
That was definitely a sight to behold.
First Sleepless Night
“We’re not having another baby.”
“Agreed.”
“Ever.”
Miguel let out a measured sigh in agreement. “Ever.”
The two of you lay sprawled across the large bed, facing the ceiling as the first rays of sunshine began to lit up the room.
Your daughter had finally fallen asleep after hours of fighting against it, nearly driving both of you crazy in the process.
As you readied yourself to slide off the mattress, you felt Miguel’s hold on your wrist stilling you.
“Don’t move,” he whispered. “Please.”
You groaned inwardly. “I need to go pee, Miguel.”
Sleepy and bloodshot eyes met yours. “It took us hours to drain her energy… hold it in for a while,” now that was a desperate tone if you’d ever heard one from him.
You heaved a long and heavy sigh, feeling his thumb gently rubbing at your pulse point in sheer gratitude.
“Yup. No more babies, O’Hara.”
“Maybe one more?”
You shot him a death glare and he swallowed hard.
“… or not.”
First Scare
You paced around the apartment, having already lost count of the amount of baby monitors that Miguel had spread all over the place.
“This is a bit too much, no?”
Miguel was checking on the sleeping baby through the orange-tinted screen of his dimensional travel watch when he turned to glare at you like you had just said the most abominable thing ever.
“You can never be too careful,” he said in disbelief.
It was to be expected, really. Miguel was always obsessed with security no matter the context, so you couldn’t really say this surprised you.
“Even the watch?” you asked in awe.
“Of course. It’s a looped system that transmits directly to both our watches,” he said with a nod. “Any alteration in her bedroom trigers an alarm.”
Ever the scientist.
His eyes dropped to the hologram on his wrist and he let out a gasp.
“What?”
“She’s gone!”
Your heart nearly collapsed as a feral Miguel immediately set himself on all fours towards her bedroom, clawing at floor.
“Miguel!” you called after him in a hurry.
Once you reached the open door, you were presented with Peter holding your daughter as Mayday chuckled happily, seated on his shoulder.
“Peter!” Miguel growled, yanking your daughter from his hold and bringing her close to his chest defensively.
“Miguel! We were just paying a visit,” he chuckled. “Cute baby, by the way,” he turned to you with a smile and a flick of his fingers.
But Miguel was having none of that. “Out!”
Mayday stuck out her tongue at him right away, a habit she had yet to let gonof whenever Miguel was around.
“Lyla, why wasn’t the alarm triggered?”
The AI appeared by his shoulder at once, filing her nails. “You forgot to activate the security system, boss.”
First Word
“Pa~pá! Say it. Paaa~pá!”
“Cheater!” you exploded as you entered the kitchen in large steps.
Miguel turned to face you as your daughter giggled.
“We promised to let it be something spontaneous,” you lifted an accusing finger at him. “Cheater!”
He lifted both hands defensively. “I’m just giving her some help.”
In truth, you weren’t upset with him in the slightest. He had been such a constanr presence in his daughter’s life even through an exhausting amount of work around Nueva York.
You feigned indignation crossing your arms across your chest.
Miguel picked her out of the baby chair and walked towards you with a tentative smile.
“I’m sorry.”
Your front broke right away as he leaned to nudge his forehead against yours. “You’re still a cheater,” you accused, not able prevent your lips from curling into a smirk.
“I’ll make it up to you.”
Your daughter started clapping enthusiastically. “Petaah~” and then burst into laughter.
Miguel looked down at her in shock. “What?”
It was almost comedic irony that the first word your daughter said was Peter, which had Miguel sulk for a couple of days.
First Steps
You missed kissing Miguel with no interruptions. Having some alone time in between taking care of your daughter was not easy to come by.
So whenever there was an opening, you’d both make it count.
He had your back pressed against the cold surface of the bedroom wall in no time, framing your face with both hands to deepen the searing kiss.
You melted into his touch right away, yearning for more.
Miguel broke the kiss momentarily to check his watch, panting lightly. “She’s still in the living room.”
You sighed in relief as he took your lips in his once more, hungrier this time. Both of your hands were resting on his firm chest, enjoying the way his muscles rippled under your touch.
Miguel hummed into you, swallowing your gasps and moans.
Your eyes were about to flutter shut when you detected movement out of the corner of your eye.
Panic took over and you immediately pushed Miguel away with a yelp.
Standing by the door was your daughter, gripping the frame with tiny hands, barely able to keep her balance.
Miguel offered her a kind smile. “Hey, you… come here.”
Your heart was hammering hard in your chest as you struggled to even your breathing.
She broke into an amused chuckle, wobbling in Miguel’s direction as he dropped to one knee. “Come here,” he encouraged.
But she would only take a couple of steps before her legs gave out under her to have her sit on the floor.
This was evidently very amusing as she kept trying to mimic her first attempt in between laughter
Miguel exchanged a proud smile with you and, for the first time in a long, you didn’t mind being interrupted.
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ivymarquis · 6 months ago
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Say You Won’t Let Go
No good deed goes unpunished
Pairing| John Price x F!Single Mom!Reader Rating| E Word Count| 2.1k Kinks/Content/Warnings| Zombie apocalypse (I like how I lied to both myself and y’all that there was ever gonna be a chance of it being another type of apocalypse), both John and Love are a little crazy which is to be expected re: zombie!au, more nausea, more pregnancy related discourse, zombie world building and the ramifications/implications of being pregnant in the apocalypse, the author is currently having A Thing about pepperoncinis, strong hints to the events that lead to Love being abandoned, etc etc etc
First/Previous Chapter Here | Next Chapter
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Captain John Price of the SAS, it seems, has decided to keep you.
As a child your neighbors had an Australian Cattle Dog.
He reminds you of that dog. Keyed in on your every move, herding you about as he sees fit throughout the day.
Gets irritated just like that dog used to, if he finds you somewhere he thinks you shouldn’t be.
Being alone with a man you do not know goes against everything you were taught growing up. You, however, are not exactly spoiled for choice where company is concerned and are in no position to bite the hand willing to feed you. Especially when the hand in question hasn’t done anything untoward.
John provides security and stability, even if he fusses at you incessantly.
“Need to be eating more than that.”
Objectively you know he’s correct, but there’s fuck all to be done about it.
“I can’t. I’ll throw up.”
You learn the nausea card will stay his hand, not that you’re even overplaying it. The child you’re carrying likes to alternate between sitting on your bladder and your stomach between bouts of playing soccer with your ribcage. Not exactly making it easy on you to get (or keep down) the food you need to grow a liver or a pair of lungs, or whatever it is that you’re cooking in the final stretch of your pregnancy.
For the most part he leaves you be about the food if he sees you picking at something over the duration of the day.
You circle each other cautiously; circumstance and loneliness making you unwilling to avoid him, but also still having the good sense to be aware you’re dealing with a stranger for less than a full day.
He’s brash, obviously used to getting his way. You don’t know a ton about the military and can only assume that it comes with the territory. He’s used to barking orders and commanding a space. You’re not exactly in a position to buck against his hand- and it’s not like you really want to, anyway.
He gives you first pick of the food, your cravings deciding your meal for you.
Cravings in an apocalypse blow, by the way. It’s not like you can get the tandoori chicken from your favorite Indian place at 2 am just because the mood strikes.
“I would kill for a jar of pepperoncinis,” you mumble, mostly to yourself one night as you pick at your dinner. God you could fuck a jar of them up with how your mouth is watering just at the thought of them.
In fact, had the world not gone to hell in a handbasket you’d probably be doing something cruel and inhumane to a pile of them. Like dipping them into nutella. Wasn’t one of the joys of pregnancy appeasing your cravings with absolutely abominable food combinations?
You’re not exactly in fight or flight at this exact moment, but you are in survival mode. No luxury of door dashing random items.
“How much longer do you think you’ve got?” The captain asks one night over dinner.
“I’m not sure. I think any day now at this point.”
You feel like you’re all belly, something that’s compounded by his follow up question of “Only got the one in there?” which is honestly fair.
“Yes. The midwife said he just has an Olympic sized swimming pool to float around in.”
“Midwife would be handy to have given your state.”
The question is buried between the lines. Why are you here and not with her?
“She’s dead.”
That’s what started this whole mess, isn’t it? It’s not your fault she’s dead but her absence was the catalyst of your group abandoning you.
He pauses his own meal, looking at you momentarily. “Sorry to hear that.”
You don’t know what to say in reply.
It feels disingenuous to pretend her death impacted you more than it actually did. While you two had spent more time together as your pregnancy progressed, the conversations had stayed staunchly about the baby and changes to your body.
You weren’t friends. But she was kind and compassionate and seemed knowledgeable about what was happening to you.
It does make you nervous, though. Women have had babies unassisted for millenium, but women have also died in childbirth since the dawn of time. Certain cultures regarded a successful birth in the same vein as warriors returning home from battle.
Since he asked- in a roundabout way- about your group, you feel bold enough to ask about his.
“How’d you get separated from your group?”
“Got caught with our trousers down by a herd wandering through this area. We were overwhelmed and I ended up going through a window. Did a number on my leg, that seems to finally be healing.”
Herds is such a funny way to describe a roaming group of the undead.
Herds usually contain deer, or horses, or sheep. Something soft and doe eyed that you can pet. Something that has teeth, yes, but typically not interested in hurting you.
Packs would be the better descriptor in your opinion- but then no one had asked you, had they?
“Do you think they’re still in the area?”
“Not if they’ve got any fucking sense,” he grouses. “There’s a group of survivors up north we’ve been taking care of. Safe zone so to speak- about as safe as anything can be, at least. Came down for supplies as the area looked clear, but the truck broke down. Herd came through and mucked everything up.”
The prospect of another community- a safe zone- enraptures you.
You’re not stupid, even if a lapse of judgment and a too long dry spell breaking has landed you in your current predicament. You understand that you’re a bit of a ticking time bomb.
You live in a world where safety is no longer a guarantee. That too much noise, and too much attention drawn can be a death sentence.
So having a baby is a far riskier move these days than it was in the past. There’s so much that can go wrong. You can’t tell a baby to be quiet because a herd is passing through and if any of them hear, then you’ve signed everyone’s death warrant.
And that’s if you and your child don’t die in labor.
So you were understandably devastated but yielded to the group consensus to leave you behind.
But a safe zone?
You’ve been floating around in limbo since parting from your group. Understanding that your death is written on the walls, but unwilling to lay down and die without trying.
You feel something akin to hope fluttering in your belly- that maybe you and your child will survive. That there’s not a blade waiting to descend on you when your water breaks.
“Can you take me there? Are you trying to go back?”
John regards you for a moment, and you try to not squirm in apprehension.
“Would be a whole lot easier if I had a working vehicle,” he states. “Between my leg and your,” he pauses, spearing a bite of his food and making a vague gesture at you as he chews, “current condition, walking that far isn’t a good idea.”
Right. Because you’re a ticking time bomb who might pop in the next hour, next week, or next day and there’s absolutely no way to know until it happens. Hence why you were trolling through a neighborhood looking for somewhere safe to bed down until you have your baby.
Talk about caught with your pants down if your water breaks trying to traverse a substantial distance. But then traveling with a newborn puts another target on your back, doesn’t it? How long until you’re comfortable with how fussy your baby is and you become confident you can read his cues? That’s a hell of a dice to roll.
“If I can find a working radio I can call my team. Or something I can drive.”
“I’m good with tech,” you volunteer. “Even if the radio doesn’t work- maybe I can make it work.”
You’ve always been someone who takes pride in your work, but working in tech in a post-collapse society has rendered your knowledge useless when traveling with a nomadic group just trying to make things work day by day.
So you’ve been feeling like a bit of a lame duck lately, even though you know logically that’s not being particularly fair to your circumstances. You’ve been forced to learn more pragmatic skills (at least, for the zombie apocalypse) but having to learn them on the fly with threats constantly looming over you doesn’t exactly provide a safe place to fail while you get over a learning curve.
Obviously close combat isn’t ideal in your situation. Guns draw too much attention with the noise. Maybe you can find a bow and practice with it.
So you jump at the opportunity to show that you might be able to pull your own weight. That you’re more than a fragile time bomb waiting for the counter to hit zero.
“I’ll keep that in mind if I find a broken one, then,” he appeases, although you can’t get enough of a read on him to know if he’s just placating you.
It’s a bit after dinner and the sun setting that John decides it’s time to herd you up to bed. “Right then, time to get you back upstairs.”
It’s only been two days now but it doesn’t take a genius to realize he’s got a thing about you and the stairs.
Someone like him is likely used to preparing for the worst case scenario in every situation. Lord knows what sort of horrors he’s thought up of you losing your balance going up or down, but he’d chewed on you pretty good earlier in the day when you’d tried to go up them without him to get something out of your bag.
Lesson learned- no traversing the stairs unattended.
Given that you are perpetually exhausted at this point, you can’t see the value in arguing that you don’t need your sleep schedule dictated to you. Left to your own devices you likely would have begun nodding off on the couch.
Even with your group, while there’d be assigned watch times, there wasn’t an enforced bedtime. Everyone’s adults- you were expected to handle your shit and be ready to move when it’s time to go.
So you nod along and let him guide you up.
John is magnanimous about the resources in the house, letting you be uncontested for the bathroom upstairs. You don’t understand how plumbing works but you can’t even bring yourself to complain about the cold water as you clean yourself.
There is a chair in “your” room, and the first night you placed it under the doorknob so that should John get any suspicious ideas, at least you’d be awake for your grizzy demise.
The doorknob never so much as turned, and you’ve been at his mercy long enough you decide if he was going to do anything unhinged, he’d have done it by now.
You are snuggled into your bed- which might as well be a luxurious thing with a 600 thread count for all you can care right now, even though it’s most assuredly not- and hear the sound of John’s door closing across the hall, and are out like a light before you can even process the noise and assume that he’s down for the count for tonight just like you are.
Come morning- after you’re finished in the bathroom and are greeted in the hall by John waiting for you- you realize that John was not squirreled away in his own room last night. He leads you down the stairs- insists on being between you and the bottom of the stairwell.
There’s a jar of pepperoncini peppers, a container of prenatal vitamins, and a pack of preggie pops which claims to be a pregnancy safe anti nausea candy.
The logical side of your brain should be floored that this veritable stranger has paid more attention to your needs (and yes you’re going to go ahead and count the pepperoncinis down as a need) in a day and a half than certain exes had during the entire run of your relationships with them.
A thank you would be appropriate given the situation.
Unfortunately, however, your hormone addled “I've been fending for myself after being abandoned, and I'm still emotionally fried” brain has been the one calling the shots lately, so instead what comes out is “You left me last night.”
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enwoso · 1 month ago
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FINISH THE... — leah williamson x reader
twelve days of christmas | day ten
i apologise for this being so late😅 day 11 will be out soon too🙃
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based on this request
the lights were warm and bright as they glared at a couch which had been placed on the inside astro at the training ground.
the couch covered with tinsel and other christmas decorations as a large christmas tree was placed to the side of it adorned with arsenal-red baubles as it was surrounded with wrapped gifts and fake snow giving it a cozy glow.
you sitting on the couch beside your girlfriend leah as you both wore matching christmas sweaters that had been given to you, ironically they were christmas jumpers of each other.
yours having leah's face on it with big white block letters saying, 'merry christmas and a happy new leah' where as leah's was a one with your face on with reindeer ears and a red nose. 
"oh they could of used a better photo than that" you sulked as you saw the photo on leah's jumper, as a small chuckle came from her as she threw the camera operator a thumbs up signalling you were both ready to begin the filming.
leah leaned back, as she rested her elbows on the sofas armrest looking effortlessly relaxed — but you could already sense her competitive energy as it radiated off of her.
"welcome to the arsenal christmas challenge! i'm y/n l/n and she's leah williamson and we are going to go head to head in some classic christmas games" you smiled reading the lines in your head, you'd been asked to say before starting the filming.
"you ready?" you glanced over to leah who sat with a smirk plastered across her lips, you reaching over to grab the card off the producer. "oh baby i was born ready" leah quipped back as you scoffed. 
you rolled your eyes, grinning. "careful, williamson. confidence is a slippery slope." 
leah clapped her hands together, picking up the card which has the first game on it, "first up is christmas trivia, first one to answer gets the point. thats easy, right”
leah placed the card back down looking to the person behind the camera who was going to be telling you the questions, a look of determination flashing in her eyes as you nodded, "lets go!"
question one; 'what year was home alone released?'
"1990!" you blurted out slapping your hand over your mouth as you realised you went to early, a disapproving glare on leah's face, as you hadn't even gave her a chance to think about the question.
"how on earth did you- is someone telling you the answers?" leah asked as she looked around the team who was filming, as you shook your head giggling.
"no i'm just faster than you"
question two; 'what is the name of the grinch's dog?'
"max!" leah yelled out fast before the question had even ended, a small fist pumping up as small win, you now with the glare as you leant forward on the couch full concentration mode coming out. 
"it's on williamson!"
the trivia went back and forth, with leah's competitiveness driving her to blurt out answers faster and faster - the whole concept of a buzzer sound had gone out the window as you were both trying to answer the question before it had even been fully asked.  
when leah shouted “frosty!” in response to a question about rudolph you were gone and belly laughing for a good five minutes.
“le- not, not every answer is frosty” you got out through giggles as leah sat with a playful pout, “i’m just covering my bases” she whispered quietly.
leah won the trivia by a margin which in your opinion would say she slightly cheater that and the fact you didn’t want to boost the blondes ego any more by telling her she won fair and square.
the second game was guess the christmas song, the team would play ten seconds of a christmas song and you both would have buzzers and had to guess the title.
the first few notes of the song played both you sitting with fierce concentration faces, but out of no where leah smacked the buzzer with such force you were sure she could have smashed it.
“jingle bell rock!” she declared, rushing out the words it mumbled into one. you turning to look at the blonde wondering how she got it from the two notes that had played.
‘correct!’
“the poor buzzer” you teased, glancing at it with a pout as leah gave you pointed look as she shrugged. “it got me the point so i’m sure it’ll be okay”
the next song began and this time you were able to buzz in confidently — before leah. “last christmas!”
‘correct’
the game carried on and after getting the first couple right you got into a groove and were getting most right managing to secure the win over your determined girlfriend who was now sat with a deepened frown.
“you’ve been studying for this haven’t you” leah accused as you gasp playfully rolling your eyes, “i just know my christmas songs” you shrugged causally as you listened in to the tie breaker as the score was currently one:one.
the tie breaker was whoever could wrap the gift the fastest wins.
moving to a table where two identical gift-wrapping setups awaited. leah immediately moving the tape and wrapping paper closer to her reach.
“ay move it back williamson” you pointed as your grumbled moving it back to it’s original place in the middle of the table.
the team behind the cameras counted down and once the word go was said, leah’s movements were fast and frantic.
“slow and steady wins the race," you teased, carefully folding your wrapping paper as you glanced over to see the mess which had occurred on leah’s side of the table.
“yeah? let's see if slow and steady beats a winner's mindset love," leah shot back, sticking a piece of tape to her forehead in her rush. “can i have the scissors?” she asked as you were carefully using them to cut the wrapping paper.
“in a minute” you mumbled, your tongue sticking out as your were concentrating. you could go a little faster than you were but part of you was finding joy in slowing your girlfriend’s rush down.
“i’m gettin’ annoyed now” she grumbled as she reached over to grab the scissor which admittedly you did place furthest away from her.
“oh- sorry did you want them” you teased as she shot you warning glare as you giggled a little carrying on with your careful wrapping.
but somehow, despite her chaotic method, leah finished first—though her present looked like it had been wrapped by a toddler while yours actually looked worth opening so who was the real winner…
"done!" she exclaimed, throwing her arms up in victory.
the team behind the camera inspected both presents, laughing. "well, leah's is...creative, but technically she wins on speed."
leah fist-pumped again. "knew it!"
you shook your head, laughing. "fine, you win this time. but next year, it's on."
leah slung an arm around your shoulders, still grinning from ear to ear. "next year, i’ll win again. but you can keep pretending it'll be close darlin’."
the cameras cut, and as the crew began to pack up, leah leaned in close. "good game," she said softly, her competitiveness giving way to affection. as she placed a soft kiss to the side of your face.
"good game," you echoed, smiling. "even if your wrapping skills are atrocious."
"hey, at least i've got charm," she replied, bumping her shoulder against yours. “your lucky i love you” you smiled as you pecked her lips, as she carried your water bottle for you as you began to walk off set hand in hand
you couldn't help but think that the holidays were even better with leah by your side—even if she was a bit too competitive for her own good.
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leafostuff · 5 months ago
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Private Appreciation [FT. TripleS Nien]
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Tags: smut, established relationship, slow stripping, body worshipping, cunnilingus (at least an attempt lol)
Author's Note: quite short but it was fun writing, really into Nien lately so i had to write something about her, it does count as my September upload
I have been feeling a bit down lately so it took me longer than expected to finally finish the smut (started writing in 20/8/24), i hope yall enjoy it even though the end may feel a bit rushed.
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“Baby…im horny”
“Nien, what the fuck?”
Honest question: was this the appropriate time for such a saying?
you and your girlfriend Nien are cuddling on your couch, watching some random romcom movie on a saturday afternoon, you would've gone outside and had a normal date but today your laziness was next level so you decided to stay at home, it's not like it was gonna get any less hot.
And here’s Nien, telling you the most random thing you heard this week (and for the time you know her, she said a lot of random things) during a movie where it's not like there is a sex or kissing since its was only the first 25 minutes of the movie, so there wasn't anything to trigger her.
“What do you mean ‘what the fuck’?” She whines while her eyes look as tired as ever. “I am feeling hot, wet and it's sure as hell not making it easier for me with all of the sexual tension going between them” she complains while pointing at the screen.
“They are just… flirting” you say, a bit confused
“And?! I can tell 30 minutes from now they are banging” she annoyingly added while her hand goes to grab some popcorn, cutely munching on it.
“Nien are…is it that-”
“NO ITS NOT THAT TIME OF YOUR MONTH” she responded, now angry at you. “I am just horny, and wet, and i need you RIGHT NOW,” she explains.
“In the middle of the movie though?? I already paid fo-” You wanted to ask when suddenly Nien leans forward to capture your lips and quickly releasing, leaving you surprised.
“Please jagi…?”
Its unfair how weak you are to her, the pleading puppy eyes that look at you with glimmer in her pupils, her innocent and sweet smile that will one day will be the cause of your death, and her nickname for you that sends tingles to your brain to switch into ‘yes’ mode almost automatically for her.
You sigh in defeat, its not like you couldve changed her mind anyways.
“Ok babe…lets do it” you say
“Yayyyy, thank you baby” she responds, pulling you into a tight embrace. “You are the best, you know that?”
“Brat” is the only word you can think to yourself when you see how happy she is as you cant help yourself but lean in and mesh your lips with hers engaging in a slow, lazy yet very sensual makeout session.
It's quite clear how much both of you enjoy this, making hums and quiet whimpers in between each kiss while your hands roams around each other’s back. Slowly you could feel Nien slowly fall into the couch with you joining her as now you are on top of herz still focusing on the kiss.
Release yourself from the kiss and look at her. Wearing a pink tube top that shows her smooth belly and tiny navel in their full glory paired with denim jeans that make her look more curvy than she is, her eyes look directly into yours with a mix of excitement and arousal, so you ask.
“Bed?”
“No, on the couch” she answers, “don't wanna move” she lazily said with a wide smile, with that logic you won't look for any arguments with her.
“Okay babe… what do you want me to do?” You ask, in the end, it's her wish to do this so who are you to not let her have it her way?
“My tummy…kiss it” she cutely pleads, you know how important foreplay is for Nien as in her eyes, foreplay is the key for having the best time. So nod with a smile before lowering your face to be parallel to her belly, take one last look at her before planting your first kiss barely above her navel, sending tingles directly to her brain.
“Ngh..yes…” she hums in excitement while closing her eyes, seeing her reception to your first kiss was good you continue peppering kisses all around her navel. Sometimes giving a teasing lick that makes her elicit a quiet moan.
“My pants…Ah-baby…” she breathes 
“What about them babe? I can't read your mind” You teasingly ask, knowing exactly what she wants you to do with them but hearing her say it is part of the fun for you.
“Nghh…take them off” she instructs as you oblige, your fingers working diligently as each button of her jeans that you pop, you place a soft kiss directly to her belly button, after the last button is undone you lower her denim clothing down her thighs, revealing her white panties with a visable stain in the middle.
“You weren't joking when you said you were wet”
“shut up” she moaned, giving you a light smack on the head. “take the panties… off too baby".
“Should I continue kissing?” A simple question in which Nien just nodded, your hands now went to her panties, sliding them off slowly, letting the friction drive her insane as your girlfriend takes her hands and plants them on the back of your head.
Eventually, you leave her completely naked waist down, letting you see her soft thighs and her glistening sex without any obstruction as you could feel yourself get harder by the view. “What now babe?” You ask, waiting for your next orders.
“One hand on my thigh… and-” she stops for a second to release a small moan. “Kiss higher” It's hard for her not to sound needy, especially when you pleasure her midriff with only your lips and tongue.
But, her wish is your command.
So let your palm rest on her right thigh, knead and massage it to your heart's content, all to amplify her pleasure from you tenfold. Meanwhile, your lips travel up from her midriff, eventually stopping near the in-between of her two mounds.
A glance at your girlfriend and you know exactly what she needs as your free hand holds the hem of her top, slowly taking it off revealing no bra and instead a pair of boobs neither too small or too big, just the perfect size for you to let your face dive into the gap between her tits, savoring their sweet taste.
“YES…more….” Nien whines a breathy moan while you alternate between each mound, kissing and licking all around her nipples while her hands get inside the back of your shirt, gliding across your back in an attempt for her to be as close to you as possible.
This goes on for a while, you kiss your girlfriend’s entire body while she instructs you, telling you exactly how she wants to feel good from you, each correct action you follow causes Nien to moan loudly but eventually she pushes you away from her tits.
“What happened?” you ask, confused by the sudden push as she looks at you with a horny smirk.
“I want you to eat me out oppa”
Pause, Nien letting you eat her pussy out is something quite rare for her to suggest since she always felt it was a bit uncomfortable for her. Disagreeing with her request would be foolish of you so look down at her glistening pussy, waiting for you to devour it like your next dinner and let your face close between her thighs.
One last look at her grinning smile and you start
“Yess…” she hisses, your first lick sends tingles to her brain, causing her to wrap her legs around your head, meanwhile her hands grab your hair, trying to not lose herself in the haze, after that you let yourself run wild on her inner thighs and wet pussy with long licks and kisses.
She is still not close however, it is just the beginning for the both of you. So increase your pace slightly to raise the volume of Nien’s breathy moans let her thighs squash your face signaling how horny she is 
“I'm close baby…” it's not hard to tell, how her moans are getting higher pitch, how her thighs are clamped around you and how her grip on your hair is harder, it may hurt but you don't mind, both of you are close to your high.
Eventually you let yourself enjoy the main course since Nien finally let herself go, her wetness flowing out of her as your mouth salivates her sweet taste, meanwhile her left hand gropes her left breast to amplify her own pleasure audible by her sensual moans
Eventually her climax comes to an end, her last wave of cum comes out of her pussy into your mouth. Raise your head and see Nien, a panting mess after the high she has been feeling all this time as now she also rises up from her lying position now seated near you, hands wrapped around you and leans in to kiss your right cheeks.
“Thank you, i feel much better now”
“Anything for you babe” you respond, returning the favor with a kiss of your own. You were helping your girlfriend find her clothes when suddenly you heard sounds of moans coming from the TV. 
You forgot the movie was playing the entire time, the main couple were now making out, half naked and ready to begin their own endeavours for their orgasm.
“I CALLED IT!!”
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Hope you have a good day leafies
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