#how do i fit everyone i care about in here

[th3mrskory]

Unspoken Desires

Pairing: fem!Reader x Old Man!Logan

Warning: 18+ MDNI, SMUT,explicit language, coercion (if you squint), oral (male/female receiving), handjob, fingering, unprotected p in v, missionary, doggy style, anal play, creampie.

Summary: Y/N is always the one taking care of everyone, but tonight Logan decides it’s her turn to let go. Rough, tender, and unapologetically intense, he’ll make sure she doesn’t forget who’s in charge—or how good it feels to be taken care of for once.

Word count: 5.6k

A/N: As @coocoocachewgotscrewed so brilliantly put it, 'As the girl that takes care of everyone: SOMEONE TAKE CARE OF ME.' And that’s how this little fic came to life.

© th3mrskory. don’t copy, translate, or use my works in any form with AI, ChatGPT or any other automated tools. I only share my stories here, so if you see them posted elsewhere, i’d appreciate it if you let me know.

The world had never been kind to her softness. In her youth, she'd learned early that the only way to survive was to take up space, to become a force others couldn't ignore, even if they didn't understand it. She had built walls from the ground up, stone by stone until they formed a fortress no one could breach. She had everything together—mostly. She had to. People depended on her and needed her strength to carry them through the chaos of life, so she did. She carried it all. Always.

But there were moments—quiet moments, when the world was still—when the weight of it all pressed against her chest, relentless. The loneliness in her veins. The unspoken ache buried deep within her ribs.

She never asked for help. She didn't need it. Her hands were too used to giving. And when she laughed, when she made jokes about being single—"Men want to be babied. I don't have time to raise a child."—it was easier to mask the truth. It was easier to hide the hunger that lingered beneath her words. The hunger for something she couldn't name, something too soft to fit into the life she'd built.

It was supposed to be just another day, another task, another moment in the long string of motions she went through without thought. But then she saw him—Logan, standing there with that quiet, raw strength of his. The way he didn't try to impress anyone, didn't need to, because the power in him was as much in his silence as it was in his actions. There was no pretense. No façade.

And she hated that it drew her in. 

She hated how much she wanted him—him, the one man who wouldn't cower in her presence, the one who wouldn't need her to be anything other than exactly what she was.

She noticed him more these days, more than she cared to admit. She tried to bury the thoughts, to ignore the way her heart would quicken whenever he was near, the way her body seemed to ache for something it didn't know how to name.

Logan saw it, though. He always did. The way she wore that strength-like armor. But he'd spent enough time with it to know what armor looked like—he knew what it meant to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders and never let anyone see how heavy it was.

He didn't pity her. Hell, he admired her more than anyone he'd ever known. But he saw the cracks. The storm churned behind her eyes. The way she pulled away just when things might have gotten too real, too close. 

She never let anyone in.

But he wasn't afraid of it. Not of her. Not of that ferocity.

And so, on that night, after a thousand little things had piled up until there was no room left for her to breathe, it came out.

Her words were sharp, and cutting, but they were the truth. The raw, jagged truth that she never allowed to be spoken. She was tired of pretending. Tired of holding the world together when no one saw her crumble beneath it.

"What, you think I don't need help? You think I like doing everything myself?" Her voice trembled only slightly, a crack in the fortress that she had so carefully built.

He didn't flinch. Didn't back away. He'd seen that wall before, and he didn't fear it.

He only stepped closer, his presence as solid as the ground beneath them.

"I think you're too damn stubborn to ask for it," he said, his voice low, but the understanding in it was enough to make her heart catch in her throat.

For a moment, the world paused. The storm inside her stilled, and she saw it—really saw it for the first time. He wasn't afraid of her strength. He didn't want to tear it down. He just wanted to be there, beside her, when it all became too much to bear.

He didn't need to fix her. He didn't need to save her.

He just needed to let her be.

Let her lean into him. Let her rest.

Her breath caught as she stepped toward him, her hands trembling, unsure but desperate. For once, she wasn't the one giving. For once, she could be held, could be taken care of. 

Logan's hands were steady, as they always were, but now, they weren't just offering strength. They were offering safety—something she hadn't realized she'd been searching for all along. 

"Hey," he whispered, his voice low, soothing. "You don't have to be strong all the time. You're allowed to let it out." 

The words broke something inside her. Heat prickled behind her eyes, and her chest heaved with the weight of everything she'd kept buried. 

Logan didn't move. He didn't push. He just let her cry, his hand resting firm and comforting on her back, his presence solid as the ground beneath her. 

"Y/N..." His voice was softer now, laced with something she couldn't quite place. Gently, his hands cupped her face, his thumbs brushing away her tears with a tenderness that made her knees weak. 

"You don't have to carry it all, bub. Let me in, just this once." 

Her hands shook as she pressed them to his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath her fingertips. Grounding her. And when she rubbed her cheek against his palm, the motion instinctive, something inside her gave way. 

Her eyes fell to his lips. The urge to kiss him became impossible to ignore. 

He leaned down, brushing his lips against her forehead, but then he paused, his gaze locking with hers. 

She couldn't stop herself. She leaned in, kissing him hard, desperate for the release, the comfort, the closeness. It was a kiss that broke everything wide open—a kiss that held the weight of everything they'd both been holding back. 

The kiss deepened, the world narrowing to the warmth of his lips and the solid strength of his hands still cradling her face. She felt the tension in her chest unravel, replaced by a need that clawed at her, desperate and all-consuming.

Logan didn't rush. He never did. His hands slid down, slow and deliberate, tracing over her arms until his fingers wrapped around her wrists. He pulled back just enough to meet her eyes, his breath hot against her lips.

"No walls. No fightin'. Just let me.", he murmured, his voice gravelly and sure, sending a shiver down her spine. The words hit her like a hammer, shattering the last of her defenses. She wasn't used to this, wasn't used to handing over the reins, but with Logan, it felt...safe. Right.

Her pulse thundered as she nodded, the tiniest of movements, but it was enough for him.

Logan's lips curved into a faint, knowing smile before he kissed her again, deeper this time, his hands guiding hers up and over her head. Her fingers curled instinctively as he pinned her wrists against the wall behind her, the roughness of the surface contrasting with the gentleness of his touch.

"Just let me make you feel good," he said, his voice low and commanding. She exhaled shakily, her head tilting back as his mouth moved to her neck, teeth scraping lightly against her skin before his tongue soothed the spot. Her body arched into him, her hips pressing forward, seeking more, needing more.

"Logan..." Her voice was barely above a whisper, a plea wrapped in the sound of his name.

He hummed against her throat, one hand still holding her wrists in place while the other traveled down her side, his fingers skimming over the curve of her hip. "That's it," he rumbled. "Let me hear you."

Each touch, each kiss, stripped away the layers she'd built to protect herself. She wasn't in control anymore—not of her body, not of her mind, not of the way she melted beneath him. And for once, she didn't care.

Logan moved with a precision that left her breathless, his hand slipping beneath her shirt, rough fingertips tracing the softness of her skin. He paused just below her ribs, his eyes flicking up to hers.

"Say it, darlin'," he coaxed. "Say you'll let me have you."

Her lips parted, the words tumbling out before she could stop them. "I'm yours."

And that was all it took.

His hands, calloused and strong, gripped her thighs, hoisting her up with an ease that sent a shiver racing down her spine. She gasped, clinging to his shoulders as her body pressed tightly against his.

"Where's your bedroom?" he growled against her ear, his voice low, gravelly, and filled with the kind of raw command that made her knees weak, though she wasn't even standing.

"End of the hall," she whispered, the words trembling out of her as his teeth grazed her earlobe, a low hum rumbling deep in his chest.

"Good girl," he murmured, the praise almost too rough to feel soft, and yet it sent heat pooling low in her stomach.

He moved through her place with purposeful strides, each step a reminder of the strength coiled in his body. She felt the steady rhythm of his breathing against her chest, the way his arms tightened around her as if he dared anything or anyone to take her from him.

When they reached her bedroom, Logan kicked the door open without hesitation, the force behind it making it swing back against the wall. The dim light from the hallway framed his silhouette—broad shoulders, wild hair, and eyes that burned as he looked down at her.

The room felt smaller with him in it, his presence overwhelming, and consuming. He didn't glance around, didn't make a single remark. His focus was entirely on her as if the world beyond her didn't exist.

"On the bed," he rasped, his voice cutting through the thick silence.

Before she could even process his words, he was lowering her onto the mattress, her back meeting the cool sheets as his hands lingered, pressing her down as he needed her to stay right where she was.

"Logan—"

"Quiet." The single word was sharp and commanding, and it sent a jolt of heat through her.

His eyes roved over her, dark and smoldering, drinking her in as though he was committing every inch of her to memory. One knee pressed into the mattress beside her, his weight shifting as he leaned closer, his hands bracketing her head.

"Spent your whole damn life holdin' everything together," he muttered his tone a mix of frustration and something darker. "Not tonight. Tonight, you're mine."

Her lips parted, but no sound came out, just a sharp intake of breath as he tilted her chin up with his thumb, forcing her to meet his gaze.

"I'm not askin', darlin'." His voice dropped to a growl, sending a shudder down her spine.

Her heart thundered in her chest as his lips claimed hers again, rough and unrelenting, his teeth nipping at her bottom lip just enough to make her gasp. The sound made his grip tighten, his hands sliding down her sides slowly as if savoring the way her body responded to him.

"You don't have to be strong tonight," he murmured against her lips, his voice softer now, though no less commanding. "Let me carry it. Let me carry you."

Her resolve cracked beneath the weight of his words, her body trembling as her hands found his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his dress shirt. For once, she didn't fight. She didn't resist.

She just let go.

Logan's eyes never left hers as he straightened, standing tall above her. His hands were steady as he reached for the hem of her shirt. The air between them felt charged, and heavy, like the moment before a storm.

"Arms up," he commanded, his voice low and rough, leaving no room for hesitation.

She obeyed without a word, raising her arms as he gripped the fabric, his knuckles brushing against her sides. He pulled the shirt up slowly, dragging the material over her skin with a sensuality that made her shiver. The shirt caught for a moment, tangled in her hair, and Logan let out a low chuckle, dark and throaty.

"Relax," he muttered, his voice softer now as he freed her, his fingers lingering against her temple, brushing stray strands away from her face.

The shirt dropped to the floor with a quiet rustle, forgotten the second it left his hand. His gaze roamed over her now-bare skin, unhurried and scorching, like he wanted to memorize every curve, every scar, every inch of her that she'd never let anyone else see.

"You're beautiful," he said, the words rough and quiet as if they weren't meant for her to hear, but they landed with the force of a confession.

Her cheeks burned under his scrutiny, but there was no hiding from him. He stepped closer, his hands moving to the waistband of her jeans. His fingers brushed her skin, calloused and warm, and she bit back a gasp as he popped the button with ease.

"Look at me," he ordered, his tone low but firm.

Her eyes met his, and the intensity in his gaze made her breath hitch. He was utterly focused as if she were the only thing that mattered in the world. Slowly, he slid the zipper down, the sound loud in the quiet room.

"Lift your hips," he murmured, his hands curling around the waistband, tugging the denim down with maddening slowness.

She shifted, doing as he asked, and he peeled the jeans away, dragging them down her legs. His fingers brushed her calves, and her ankles before the fabric joined her shirt on the floor. The air felt colder now, her skin hypersensitive to every little movement, every little touch.

Logan's eyes raked over her, his expression dark and unreadable. Then he reached out, his hands gripping her ankles, his thumbs running along the delicate bone there. He tugged her toward him, pulling her to the edge of the bed with a strength that made her stomach flip.

"You have no idea what you do to me," he growled, his voice ragged, laced with something almost feral.

Her heart raced as he leaned down, his fingers hooking into the thin straps of her bra, sliding them off her shoulders with an aching slowness. The straps fell away, his knuckles grazing her skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

"You don't need this," he murmured, his lips brushing the curve of her collarbone as he reached behind her, unhooking the clasp with a practiced ease.

The bra slipped from her body, and Logan let it fall without a glance, his hands already returning to her, tracing a path down her sides. His palms were warm, rough in the best way, and they left trails of fire wherever they touched.

"Every inch of you," he whispered, his lips ghosting over her skin as his hands slid lower. "Mine."

Her breath hitched, her body arching toward him instinctively, surrendering completely to his touch.

Logan's hands paused at her hips, his fingers slipping under the thin elastic of her panties. His gaze flicked up to hers, holding her there with an intensity that made her pulse thunder in her ears.

She nodded, her voice failing her, but it didn't matter. Logan saw everything he needed in her eyes.

With one smooth motion, he slid the last barrier from her body, baring her completely to him. He stood there for a moment, his gaze raking over her with a hunger that made her shiver.

"Perfect," he muttered, more to himself than to her, before leaning down, his lips brushing against her ear.

"Now let me show you what it means to let go."

Logan knelt between her legs, his hands on her knees, gently parting them as he moved with calm, deliberate intent. She froze for a second, a wave of embarrassment washing over her as she realized she hadn't shaved. Her gaze quickly flicked away, her cheeks flushing with the sudden vulnerability she felt.

But Logan noticed. He looked at her with a reassuring, almost amused smirk, his eyes flickering down her body before meeting hers again.

"Don't," he murmured, his voice low and soothing as he pressed a thumb along her inner thigh. "I like it just like this."

Her breath hitched at his words, the tension in her body slowly melting under his touch.

He lowered himself slowly, nuzzling his face against her inner thighs, placing soft, teasing kisses along their expanse. His right hand moved to her center, and he leaned in, pressing a kiss to her sensitive bud. His middle and ring fingers slid over her hole, collecting her wetness, and spreading it across her labia.

"She's drooling for me," he murmured as his fingers slowly began to push inside, allowing her to adjust to the stretch. He kept his gaze fixed on her face, watching her pleasure as his fingers began to pump in and out, each movement deliberate and slow.

His fingers continued their rhythmic motion, working in tandem with his mouth. He moved his tongue over her clit, the tip flicking over the sensitive skin in a slow, teasing rhythm that made her body arch toward him. Her hands fisted the sheets beneath her, desperately trying to hold onto something as the heat of his touch seared into her.

"Logan... please," she gasped, her voice trembling, her hips pressing closer to his face.

Logan didn't stop. His tongue flicked faster now, tracing every curve, every inch of her, his mouth drinking in her arousal. She couldn't stop herself anymore; her back arched as her body responded to him, the tension building within her like a wave. "So good," she moaned, her voice breathy and desperate.

"You're so fucking beautiful," Logan murmured against her skin, his voice rough, thick with desire. He paused for a moment, lifting his head to look up at her. "I can feel you shaking. Let go."

She shuddered under his gaze, the command in his voice stripping away the last of her resistance. Her body wanted to obey, to give herself over completely to the sensations he was creating. "I can't... I need you, Logan," she pleaded, tangling her fingers in his hair, urging him back to her, wordlessly begging for more.

Logan smirked, his hands sliding down her sides, gripping her hips tightly as he pulled her closer to his mouth, continuing the rhythm with even more force, more hunger. Every lick, every flick of his tongue brought her closer to the edge.

He could feel the way her body tightened, the way her breath quickened. And then, without warning, his mouth pressed harder against her clit, his tongue moving with desperate speed as he drove her to the brink. She moaned loudly, her body shuddering as she reached the edge. "Logan... oh god," she cried out, completely surrendering to the pleasure.

As she caught her breath, her body still humming with the lingering sensation of his touch, a quiet yearning stirred within her. She sat up, her eyes locking onto his as she gently took his hand. Without a word, she brought his fingers to her lips, her eyes never leaving his. She traced them with her tongue, sucking them clean, savoring the taste of her arousal, before pulling back just a little.

"Dirty girl…" he said, his left hand cupping her cheek.

"I could be sucking something else", she said seductively.

He looked at her with an intensity that sent a shiver down her spine. "You don't have to," he murmured, his voice low, steady.

"I want to. Please."

Logan stood up slowly, keeping his eyes locked with hers. There was an intensity in his gaze, an unspoken challenge, and a silent invitation all at once.

She positioned herself on her knees before him. Her movements were deliberate, almost hypnotic, as her hands traced the strong lines of his shoulders, sliding down his chest, and over the hard muscles of his belly.

When her fingers reached his belt, she didn't hesitate. With a swift motion, she unbuckled it, the leather slipping free with an audible click before it fell to the floor. Her hands moved quickly to the button of his dress pants, flicking it open, and she slowly lowered the zipper.

She tugged at the hem of his shirt, pulling it free from his waistband. Her fingers, delicate yet determined, began to unbutton the shirt, one button at a time. Her gaze never left him, and the way her hands worked with such slow precision sent a wave of heat through his chest. The act was intimate, each button a whispered invitation.

Once the shirt was undone, she moved to the cuffs, gently opening them before pressing a soft kiss to the back of each of his hands. Logan closed his eyes briefly at the touch, the tenderness of it catching him off guard. His thumb stroked the curve of her cheek, the touch affectionate, reverent.

There was something magnetic about the way she undressed him—each movement slow and filled with purpose. Her eyes held a quiet hunger that mirrored his own, a silent language between them that made his pulse quicken.

He shrugged the shirt off his shoulders, letting it fall carelessly to the floor. She didn't waste a moment, pulling his pants and boxers down his legs in one smooth, fluid motion, letting them drop to the floor as he stepped out of the garment.

He stood there, bare in front of her. His body was exposed, but it wasn't the nudity that left him feeling vulnerable. It was the way his body didn't respond like it once had, the slow burn of frustration creeping in.

But that did not deter her. She braced herself on all fours, the movement full of quiet confidence. Leaning in, she began licking and gently sucking at his balls, the heat of her mouth sending a shiver through him. His breath hitched as her right hand took hold of his semi-hard dick, her touch light but teasing, coaxing him to respond. The softness of her lips, the pressure of her hand, stirred something deep inside him, and he could feel himself slowly hardening.

She licked a long stripe from his balls up to his tip, her mouth hot against his skin. The sudden surge of sensation had him grunting low, his hands instinctively finding their way into her hair, fingers curling into her locks as he pulled her closer.

"Fuck," Logan breathed, his voice low and rough, as his grip tightened on her hair, pulling her in deeper, the feeling of her mouth sending waves of heat through him. "Don't stop," he muttered.

Y/N could feel him growing heavier and thick in her mouth. She released his dick with a loud pop and with both hands began pumping it.

At the sight Logan closed his eyes and let his head fall back, the hold on her hair tightening. She took him in her mouth and, hollowing her cheeks, began taking him deeper.

She gagged around him when her nose reached the grey hairs on the base and pulled back coughing, a string of saliva connecting her to his member.

Y/N looked up and smiled mischievously seeing him fully erect.

Logan pushed her onto the bed, his hands firmly pinning her wrists to the mattress as he hovered over her. His eyes locked onto hers.

"You're trouble," he finally muttered, his voice deep and rough.

She smirked, but there was a glint of challenge in her eyes. "You don't seem to mind," she teased, her breath hitching as his gaze darkened with hunger.

His lips curved into a slow, predatory smile. Without warning, he moved, pinning her down more securely. "No, I don't," he growled, his voice low as he leaned in closer, brushing his lips over her neck.

Her breath quickened as she felt the weight of his body pressing against hers. She could feel the heat radiating off him, and despite herself, she arched up, meeting the intensity of his gaze. He was in control now, his hands steady as he guided her into place.

He took a breath, his lips brushing against her ear, sending a shiver down her spine. "You're going to beg for it," he whispered. His tone was rough, yet there was a subtle edge of something softer, almost possessive. "And I'll make sure you don't forget who's in charge."

She bit her lip, anticipating what he would do next.

Logan smiled darkly and kissed her again, his right hand traveling down her chest and grabbing her right breast, giving it a harsh squeeze.

He positioned himself between her legs, gripping his member at the base as he ran his tip along her sensitive center, teasing her with deliberate strokes from her clit to her entrance. Each motion made her hips twitch, her body responding instinctively to his touch.

Her moans filled the room, "Logan," she said breathlessly.

"Yes?"

She closed her legs around him pulling him closer. Logan laughed at her antics. Without breaking eye contact, he leaned back slightly, gathering spit in his mouth before letting it fall onto her, aiding his movement.

Her moans became desperate, almost broken, her hands clutching at his forearms. "Logan," she whimpered, her voice raw with need. "Please… I need you."

His smirk deepened as he held her gaze, the intensity in his eyes making her squirm beneath him. "I told you, you'd beg" he murmured, his voice low and rough.

Her chest heaved, her lips trembling with the words she couldn't seem to stop. "I'm yours, Logan. Please…"

One large hand moved to her throat, his palm pressing gently against her skin, holding her in place. His thumb traced the line of her jaw as his other hand gripped her thigh, pulling her even closer. "Mine," he growled, his tone possessive, claiming.

The pressure at her throat made her head swim, a strange mix of restraint and trust that sent a bolt of heat through her. She arched into his hold, her body surrendering completely.

"You like this, don't you?" he rasped, his lips brushing against hers but not quite touching. His voice was low and commanding, but there was a glint of something softer beneath it, a promise just out of reach.

Her breath hitched, and she let out a shaky moan, her hands clutching at his wrist. "Yes," she whispered, desperate and trembling.

His mouth curved into a wicked smirk as his hand shifted, loosening his hold just enough for her to feel the contrast. "Let me take care of you," he murmured, dragging his thumb along the curve of her jaw.

The words lingered in the air, heavy with intent but unspoken in full. His free hand slid down her body, fingers tracing her curves with a deliberateness that made her skin tingle.

She whimpered, her body responding to every calculated movement. "Logan..."

He leaned in, his lips ghosting over her ear. "Stop thinking. Just feel," he whispered, the edge of his voice rough yet grounding. "That's all I want from you tonight."

He shifted between her legs, his hands gripping her hips, lifting her with ease as he positioned himself. The heat of his body pressed against hers, and her heart thudded in her chest, anticipation coiling tightly in her core.

"Tell me if it's too much," he murmured, his voice a rough whisper.

She nodded, her breath hitching as she felt the tip of his member pressing against her entrance. With a slow, fluid motion, he eased himself inside, feeling the resistance of her body disappearing.

Y/N threw her head back, a low moan slipping from her lips as her body adjusted to his length, "Fuck," she breathed, unable to hide the raw need in her voice.

She bit her lip at the feeling of him twitching inside of her. Logan leaned forward, his tongue sliding down the side of her neck. He then moved to her breasts, attaching his mouth to one of her nipples and sucking. He released her nipple.

"Breathe," he whispered, his hand sliding up to rest on her waist, grounding her. "I've got you."

He straightened up, his body towering over hers, and braced his hand on the headboard as he drew his hips back, the feel of his withdrawal sending a shiver through her. She barely had time to adjust before he slammed back into her.

She was trembling beneath him, her nails digging into his shoulders as she tried to keep up with the brutal rhythm he set. Every time he pulled out, every time he pushed back in, the pressure inside her built, and she couldn't help but whimper.

He picked up the pace, his thrusts turning faster, more brutal, as he pushed into her with a hunger that matched the fire in her veins. Her hips moved to meet him, desperate for more, and he responded with a growl of approval, his hands tightening on her hips to anchor her in place as his rhythm grew harder, more punishing.

"Fuck Y/N."

She smiled at him.

"You like that, don't you?" Logan's voice was rough, and dark, as he pulled back slightly, only to push in even harder.

She couldn't stop herself from moaning, the sharpness of the sensation hitting her in waves.

"That's right," Logan growled, his grip on her hips like iron as he rocked into her with force.

Her body responded without thought, her legs wrapping tighter around his waist, pulling him deeper, faster as if she couldn't get enough. The sound of skin slapping echoed in the room, mixing with the desperate gasps coming from her lips.

Without warning, he shifted his position, his hands leaving her hips for a moment, only to slip under her and lift her body, pulling her into a new angle. She gasped, the sudden shift throwing her off balance, but Logan's grip on her was firm, and controlling, as he guided her back onto him.

Her back arched instinctively, the new position deepening their connection, and she moaned, her hands reaching for the headboard to brace herself. Logan's thrusts grew slower but deeper, more deliberate now, aimed to bring her right to the brink.

Logan's hand came down hard on her left asscheek jolting Y/N forward.

"Logan…" she gasped, her voice trembling with need.

He could hear it—the desperation in her voice, the way her body was bucking against his. He watched her face, her eyes closed tight, her lips parted in a silent plea for release. He wanted to hear her, wanted to feel her break under him.

He gave one last hard, deep thrust, then paused, letting the sensation build before pulling back almost completely. She whimpered, the loss of movement driving her crazy, and before she could protest, he repositioned again, this time bending her further back, his hands now holding her shoulders down as he ran his member between her asscheeks.

Her breath hitched as she looked back at him, over her shoulder, her eyes filled with raw desire.

Logan didn't wait any longer. He positioned himself behind her, his hands firmly gripping her hips as he pushed into her slowly at first, savoring the tight, intense heat that engulfed him. The change in angle sent a shockwave of pleasure through her, and she moaned, her hands clutching at the sheets in desperation.

"Fuck," Logan muttered, his voice low and full of grit as he began to move, his thrusts quick and forceful, each one pushing her further into the bed.

She gasped with each hard thrust, the pleasure taking over her senses, her body rocking in time with his. The deeper connection from this position sent waves of bliss coursing through her, and she pressed back into him, her hips meeting his with every thrust.

"Does this feel better?" Logan growled, his hands tightening on her hips, guiding her with raw intensity.

She could barely manage a breathless, "Yes, harder…"

His thrusts grew harder, faster, and relentless, pushing her toward the edge.

She couldn't hold back anymore, "Logan …I'm gonna…"

His strokes grew sloppier as he grabbed her neck, angling her face so he could kiss her.

Y/N's moans filled the room. The mixture of his hard thrusts and the slap of his balls on her ass pushed her over the edge as she began shaking.

Y/N fell forward, her face on the bed and her ass in the air. Logan didn't stop. His hands opened her asscheeks as he watched his thick, veiny member going in and out of her hole, creating a creamy ring at the base of his member.

The new angle allowed Logan to continuously hit her cervix. "Be a good girl, come on my dick."

Her hands fisted the sheets and Logan, with his thumb began circling her other hole. The new stimulation tipped Y/N over the edge as she came hard on his member.

Logan didn't stop. Didn't even slow down as he followed her, his movements like a force of nature, unyielding, as he pushed her through the waves of pleasure, every last inch of her shaking with the force of it.

Her mouth fell open as she felt him stilling and his release spilling inside of her.

"Fuck!", he said, throwing his head back.

He remained still for a moment but then pulled out when he felt his member softening. He sat on his knees admiring their joint releases dripping out of her spent hole.

"Jesus, that's a fucking sight.", his index finger reached collecting the release and pushing it back.

Y/N moaned and fell on her stomach. He removed his fingers and lay next to her.

"Did it help?", he asked playfully.

"Shut up Logan."

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© th3mrskory 2025 — all rights reserved.

[universalincubal]

Hey there. So I was in Nazi circles as a child until adulthood and came from red Northern and Southern California, the Deep South, and am now living in that funky part of the Midwest where it's still segregated but pretends to like queer people (super weird). So I've lived in and have stomping grounds in a good chunk of the USA. I am now 21 years old, just to make this a little clearer.

Anecdotally, I have never, and I mean legitimately NEVER personally known a Nazi who was not at the least a partial Trump supporter, if not an outright follower of his cult. There is definitely a range, but in effect it produces the same result. I'd say about 35% of everyone I knew was in his cult by summertime of 2019. The rest were vocal supporters of largely an avidly supportive bent.

Any leftover individuals who didn't like whatever random decision he made at whatever time, kinda just shut their mouth and chose to focus on what they did like about him or what he was doing to the country. Trump was doing such a flurry of things for so long and he was spinning such wild stories that people became addicted to the drama high and just didn't want to stop living in that high. They were the real right ones, they had held fast, they had done their righteous work and now the fruits of their labor were finally becoming apparent. And then Trump lost the election and took all of that with him. That's a significant part of the reason for the Insurrection, and the suicides.

Because Trump is an open supporter of Nazism and Hitler, and bad actors who happen to be Nazis (literally watched this live and recorded before 2021 but can't find any evidence now that Google is AI), Nazis in turn provide him at least surface level support because even if that Nazi happens to disagree with Trump's image, overall demeanor, or select-any political decision, they understand that he is their best option to actually get what they want. What they want is a Fourth Reich. They believe the USA is the new motherland and that the Fourth Reich is prophesised to occur here, presumably somewhere in the Heartland, as a grassroots movement that takes back the decimated personal rights of White Americans and people of Aryan descent. (The reason I state it this way is because this is how they romanticize it and this is how it would look to an outsider. It may also help recall memories in those who may suspect or need to remember specifics on Nazi upbringing.)

Now yeah, I've heard of Nazis who don't support Trump. The problem is they are largely ostracized from the rest of the community, at least from what I've seen. They don't show up at the family functions or the important meeting. They don't sit in at the council anymore. Their granddaughters see them less. There's a clear social loss to not supporting Trump in the last ~8 years and because he is taking the White House again, there will continue to be. This should be paid attention to.

I could see how an ostracized individual could do some petty crime like this, but that shouldn't be ignored or downplayed. A deeper rift between differing kinds of Nazis is dangerous for everyone because it creates a lot more singly dangerous acts, risky individuals who are more likely to drop a bomb in a store, or shoot their wife or parents, or drive a vehicle through a crowd, than to organize a militia. We would need to see Nazis with differing opinions come together in one movement to achieve militias and enact whatever judgement they see fit in any organized fashion. This does not mean that chaotic, disconnected violent acts would not be ridiculously dangerous and cause terror in the general populace. I personally know, having grown up Nazi, that mass disorganized violence is what Plan B is for.

Be careful around Nazis. They live for volatility and are incredibly dangerous. Be smart and stay safe. They will always try to get a reaction or an effect with what they say. Just don't let them have it. They have the White House and all of our rights and lives with it. It's not worth risking your safety or the safety of anyone else because we have a longer fight we need to win with stamina and perseverance. If they hit first (and they have and will continue to), they will always be on the wrong side of history, and we are free to retaliate as necessary for the good of society. Good luck out there.

Trump supporter or opponent?

Someone just painted a swastika on Donald Trump's star on Hollywood Boulevard but the cops can’t figure out if it was a supporter or an opponent.

[ladysherreeamore]

We all compare Tomdaya to Lukola but I thought i'd add Jakola into this so we can see how they all treat a woman they care about or even could be "in love" with

The way Tom got upset and rescued Zendaya when the paparazzi was getting outvof control and the way Luke got upset when the fans were getting out of hand are similar but the way Jake left Nic and went inside is not the way you would treat a woman your dating and shouldn't do that to your female friend

He squeezed past her to go inside while she was outside with a group of stange men and anything could've happpened to her, remember she has been stalked so a person should be aware of that and be cautious in this situation.

In case you missed Luke's facial expression here you go

Luke looks like he wants to jump the crowd and the bodyguard is so excited smiling 🤣😂

He is looking at the bodyguard like he wants to jump him too. 🤣

He’s looking at the fans with that same pissed off face. 😂

He’s pointing at the bodyguard like “man do your job” 😂 I’m going to whip your ass.

Here, I am guessing Luke is having some not so nice words to this guy. Bodyguard isn’t smiling anymore.

I have a lot of guy friends and they wouldn't leave me with strange men and not any guy i've ever dated. Men are taught to wait for women and hold doors for them and Jake hasn't done either of these. The weather doesn't matter because I've been in heavy rain and a guy would still open doors for me and not leave me.

These are actions that a man who has been dating a woman for months should automatically know to do because he would be used to it. Even if he started doing these things now it woukd only be because he knows what we've been saying so it wouldn't chang anything.

He isn't used to treating women this way because like i've said before, he doesn't date women. 🌈 Like all of her male friends, he is gay. He doen't even hangout with any straight men and everyone he does hangout with have been telling us he's gay all along but people love to ignore that so they can ship him with Nic and being gay wouldn't fit the narrative of them dating.

[thewatcher98]

SUNDAY CONFESSIONAL IS...

...something that I've been thinking for quite a while now. And it is: how much I hate the expression "dodging a bullet" when talking about Morse.

I found myself a lot in him. The inability to fit in (he is called by Jakes "the odd one" and has particular interests; I also have different interests than my peers and I often got the "she's so weird" look) resulting in social awkwardness (can't really have a "normal" conversation with anyone or forcing myself to be like the others so I'm not left out but it's super draining and tiring; we've seen several times Morse experiencing exactly this). That voice in the back of our heads telling us that no one likes us, that everyone's going to hurt us, to leave us, that we're just a huge disappointment. And most of the time none of that it's true. It's our anxiety (I guess?) speaking.

He is not easy that's for sure. But he has his "reasons" aka trauma. Lack of communication, trust issues, mommy AND daddy issues. Plus I really do think he's neurodivergent (which I suspect I am too but I'll never know cause I can't afford a therapist yoohoo). He's not a bad person. It's just the '60s and people don't talk about these kind of things and surely don't talk with a "shrink". I don't know if have any kind of trauma, honestly. Maybe that infamous "generational trauma" that it's so talked about online that it's now forced in movies/tv shows cause people have lost the ability to write a story. Am I a good person? I let the others be the judge of that cause my mind just LOVE to play tricks on me and I don't trust her for a moment.

All of this to say: if I found us so similar and by avoiding him people "dodge a bullet", what about me? What should I do? Should I lose all hope and give up? No friendship? No love? Cause I'm such a problem that it's better to run the opposite direction as fast as you can? To dodge the bullet?

Anyway this is it. I had to take it off my chest. Sorry if it feels too self centered. That wasn't my intention. All I wanted to say is to always be careful with how you use your words. To you it might sound like something funny to say. Someone else might start spiraling bad. Also, no drama or beef or whatever, please cause I'm so tired of it lol

Here's a nice gif of Morse petting a dog

[dewitty1]

Hii! I was wondering if you could rec fics where either Draco or Harry have to do some serious groveling. Like, they fuck up, and they have to make it up to the other. It’s my guilty pleasure 😅

Thank you!

Hi @albondiguilla007! Thanks for your ask!

Let me just say that I have not read all of these, and I don't know if they will fit your criteria specifically.

Calico Skies by Fate_and_folly

Draco’s voice shook. “You don’t know what it’s like to have you. No one knows what it’s like to lose you.” A sob fled from him. “Please don’t make me be the first.” Harry’s face crumpled, looking away, and Draco knew then it was over. “It’s my past, it must be. I asked before and you said –” “I have forgiven you –” “I am a person!” Then quieter, “A person; not just something to be forgiven.” ~ With his family’s name and misdeeds laying heavily upon him, Draco Malfoy returns to Hogwarts for a torturous eighth year. He finds himself unrequitedly in love with Harry Potter and at odds with everyone around him, even the bricks. While navigating the post-war world, he is forced to decide both who he is and what he wants.

Sometimes It Lasts In Love (But Sometimes It Hurts Instead) by bryoneybrynn

Despite the fact their relationship has been over for years, Draco finds himself standing at Harry Potter’s front door one winter’s afternoon…

Cassiopeia Lily Malfoy by GallaPlacidia (find the Archive drive HERE)

In eighth year, Harry had a toxic fling with Draco Malfoy. Ten years later, a little girl shows up, begging for Harry's help. Could the two be connected? And did Harry misunderstand what Draco was trying to tell him, the last time they spoke? Feat. angry 8th year Harry being truly horrible to Draco, Draco writing a lot of letters he never sends Harry, and the most Gryffindor-Slytherin hybrid ten-year-old you've ever seen.

The Courting by the Pureblood Who Only Has Five Milligrams of Romantic Intelligence and Thinks He’s Real Smooth by hiimcibee

Draco could grab Potter and shove him into a stall before proceeding to suck his soul out of his dick, but secretly, deep down, in the part of Draco that he will never admit to anyone, he is (everyone pauses to shudder) a romantic. Potter is not someone Draco wants a one-off with. Potter is — Draco’s beloved! So Draco decides to boldly go where no one has gone before: to put himself through scrutiny; their friends’ teasing and pranks; unsound romantic advice from a house-elf; wearing pretty clothes; all to try and win Potter’s heart through courtship. (An unnamed ginger bastard can be heard yelling from afar: “This is actually a detailed guide on how not to court someone!”) But who cares about the opinions of redheads? Literally no one.

Such Great Heights by aideomai

Draco Malfoy, wide-eyed and pale and in a decidedly ragged shirt, was crouched next to the pile of whatever the dragon had been eating. Harry threw himself to a halt and yelled, “Merlin, how many times do I have to save your life?”

Soup-pocalypse and The Great Curry Cataclysm by SquadOfCats

Eleven years after the war, Draco Malfoy leads a quiet, boring, and perfectly respectable life, thanks very much. Or, at least he does, until a sudden and very unexpected veela awakening causes him to throw soup all over Harry Potter in the middle of the Ministry cafeteria.

[sissylittlefeather]

If You Talk In Your Sleep

Chapter 2

A/N: EEEEEEEEE I'm so excited that you all loved the first chapter of this!!! I have so many big and juicy plans for this series 😈. ICYMI this is the one with 1969 Elvis and you, a casino boss's wife in Vegas. Edited to add: I can't believe I forgot to mention this!! In this universe, Lisa Marie does not exist. He and Priscilla do not have a child yet.

Click HERE for Chapter 1

Huge shout outs to @ccab and @atleastpleasetelephone for reading this one and helping me identify/fix some mistakes. Y'all, if you're writing, you need a good team of editors/proofreaders. They are PRICELESS.

Warnings: 18+ minors absolutely DNI, this is smutty and a little angsty, sex bordering on abuse (not Elvis!), and then lots of good sex, fingering, oral for her, penetrative sex, plus dirty talk, talk of cum/cumming, it's a whole thing; oh also everyone is drinking again and we're talking about the mafia in Vegas

Word count: ~3.3k

“What the…?” He picks your ring up and holds it up to the light, a sly smile spreading across his face. Now he'll have to see you again.

******

You're on your back with Carl on top of you panting and sweating when you realize that you left your ring in Elvis's pocket. You bite your lip to stifle a curse and Carl takes that as a sign that you're enjoying what he's doing. You're absolutely not. You haven't enjoyed sex with him in years, maybe ever really. He's always been selfish and crude, focused on his own pleasure. You're not even sure he knows that women are capable of orgasms, but if he does, he certainly doesn't care.

Your mind drifts back to the day Carl asked you to marry him. He was head over heels and you'd only been together for a couple of months. But he was rich and you were young, craving the security you thought he could offer. So you'd said yes and tried not to think about what you might be giving up. Still, you never dreamed it would be this bad.

“Fuck yes, you little slut. Take it, bitch.” He grunts as he ruts into you ruthlessly. You try not to grimace. It's not the words necessarily, it's the way he says them, like he's trying to make sure you know you don't matter to him, but you still belong to him. He pulls out and pumps himself, shooting cum all over your belly. Then, he rolls over next to you on his back and you sigh, reaching for something to wipe yourself off with. Carl always pulls out. He told you once that he couldn't risk you ruining your body with a kid. You had always imagined yourself with children, but not with Carl, so you're glad he doesn't cum inside you. He stands up out of bed to get ready for work while you lay on your side and try not to cry. How on earth will you get your ring back from Elvis? The thought of seeing him again makes your heart skip, but then your stomach lurches in fear. Carl cannot find out.

******

You stay in bed as Carl leaves for work. He's used to you having days where you don't get up, so he doesn't question it. In reality, this is the only way you could keep him from noticing you didn't have your ring. As soon as the door closes behind him, you walk to the kitchen and pop open a bottle of champagne. You don't really feel like celebrating, but this is the only alcohol in the house, so it'll work.

About an hour later, you're ready to go. Tonight your dress is black, fitted, and short with an ungodly amount of gold jewelry. Your hair is piled on top of your head and your eye makeup would make Twiggy jealous. Somehow, you managed to pull this off while draining the bottle of champagne. Now, you're drunk, but you stumble towards the front door with your purse, prepared to do whatever you have to do to find Elvis and get your ring back.

******

Elvis sits in his room with your ring in his hand. He's not sure how he should handle this. Does he try to go to you at the Flamingo? No, that would not be smart with your husband there. Does he go back to the Tropicana where you met and see if you're there again? That's an option, but what if you're not there? He finally decides that this is his only course of action and makes his way to the elevator.

When he gets off, his entourage in tow, he hears a commotion at the front desk. Just out of curiosity, he moves a little closer. That's when he spots you. You look impossibly sexy in the black minidress, but you seem to be harassing the front desk worker. He chuckles to himself and then walks over to you.

“I'm tellin’ you, I was here last night! I know he's here. Please just call him!” You yell at the hotel man. Your words are a little slurred from the champagne, but you're not going to let anyone stop you from seeing Elvis. “He has something of mine and I need it. I promise. Ask him.”

“She's not lying. I do have something of hers.” His smooth baritone cuts through the conversation and the hotel attendant’s mouth drops. “Hi, honey. You wanna come upstairs?”

You immediately brighten, the champagne in your system preventing you from keeping any kind of cool when you see him.

“Elvis! Yes!” He can tell you're inebriated, but he still wraps his arm around you and guides you to the elevator. His guys seem disappointed that he's not going out, but he assures them they can go without him.

On the elevator, you giggle and lean against him lazily. He looks down at you and can't help but smile at how cute you are.

When you get to his suite, you stumble a little and he scoops you into his arms to carry you to the couch.

“D’you have any champagne?” You ask, your eyes glazed.

“Honey, I think you've had enough.” He chuckles and strokes your cheek gently. “Why did you drink so much, doll?”

“I was sad.” You look down at your hands in your lap and try not to cry. “I missed you.”

He tips your chin up to make you look into his face. You close your eyes as he kisses your forehead, each of your cheeks, and then your mouth gently.

“I missed you too.” You shake your head and pull back, standing up.

“No, Elvis. I can't do this.” He stands up too.

“Do what?”

“Be here with you. I need my ring and then I need to go.” You talk quickly and look around the apartment like your ring will just be sitting somewhere.

“Hey, honey, slow down–”

“No! If I stay here you're gonna die. Carl will kill you and it'll be my fault.” You finally stop talking and the tears begin to stream down your face. He pulls you into his arms as you cry.

“Doll, that's not going to happen.” He strokes your back soothingly and kisses your forehead again. For a few minutes you let yourself melt into him and be comforted. Then, you pull away, makeup all over your face, and look up at him.

“I need my ring back, please.” He sighs and takes it out of his pocket for you. You slip it onto your finger and sniffle. It feels heavier than it did before. “Where's your bathroom?”

He gestures towards it and you go to it, fixing your makeup in the mirror. Your eyes are still puffy, but you get yourself back to some semblance of normal and then walk out to the living area. He's sitting on the couch with his head in his hands when you come out.

“You okay?” You ask tentatively, your words are clearer now that you haven't had a drink in over an hour. He wipes his face and sits up quickly.

“I'm fine.” He flashes you a fake smile and then leans back on the couch.

“You don't seem fine.”

“I was really hoping you would stay. I don't feel so… alone… with you here.” You look at the door, back at him, and then at the watch on your wrist. It's not even 10pm yet. You have plenty of time before Carl gets home.

“I can hang out for a little while.” He immediately brightens, standing up and walking to the bar. You hear a bottle of champagne pop open.

“What're you doing?” He pours a glass, drains it, and then pours another.

“Figured we might as well both be drunk.” You giggle and walk over to him at the bar. He drains a second glass as you take the bottle and drink directly from it. You move to him and stand close, looking up into his face. He smiles and whispers. “Fuck it.”

He takes a swig from the bottle and then leans down, kissing you deeply. His arms snake around your waist and he pulls you in close. When he backs out of the kiss, he presses his forehead to yours and sighs.

“Please stay for a while.”

“Are you sure you're okay?” He closes his eyes and shakes his head, taking another pull on the champagne bottle.

“Cilla wants me to come home. She and the Colonel have decided it's time for us to have a baby.” You reach for the bottle, but he keeps it and takes another drink.

“You don't wanna be a dad?”

“Not really. Priscilla is not… I just can't imagine she'd be very nurturing.” He thinks to himself that more than that, he doesn't want to tie himself to her for life. Right now, he could still get out, but once there's a kid, everything gets so much more complicated. You nod and wrap your arms around his waist.

“I know what you mean.” You lean your head on his chest and he drapes one arm over your shoulders. “You don't have a whole lot of control over your life, do you?”

“No, I fucking don't.” He chuckles bitterly and takes another long drink from the champagne bottle. You squeeze him a little and then back up, looking into his face.

“Hey. I have an idea. Let's spend tonight just the two of us. We’ll drink champagne and order room service and put on pajamas and just watch tv. You don't have to be Elvis Presley and I don't have to be the casino boss’s wife. We can just be silly drunk people.” He looks down at you as a wide smile spreads across his face.

“Let's do that.” You turn and take off running for the bedroom. He follows close behind you and tackles you on the bed, both of you giggling and out of breath. You kiss him softly a few times before you whisper.

“Jammies. We need jammies.” He stands up and gives you a little fake salute, walking to the chest of drawers to get two pairs. You laugh as he throws you a pair and starts to strip. When you take yours to the bathroom, he hollers.

“You know I've seen it all, right?” You peek your head out of the bathroom and glare at him.

“Let me maintain an illusion of mystery, sir.” He laughs and then lays down on the big bed waiting for you to come out of the bathroom. When you do, he's surprised to see you've washed your makeup off. He stands up and walks to you, a little spellbound, his eyes hazy from the alcohol. Your hair is still up, so he starts pulling pins out of it until it all falls down.

“God, you're beautiful.” He murmurs, touching your cheek gently.

“That's a nice line–”

“Not a line. Just the truth.” You stand there for a minute or two just staring at each other before he runs his thumb along your bottom lip. A flashback of Carl on top of you this afternoon shakes you to your core and you move away from him quickly to sit on the bed. He cocks his head a little. “What was that, honey?”

“Nothing. Let's just watch tv.”

“No. It was not nothing. You literally just ran away from me.” You curl up against the pillows and try not to cry. He lays on the bed behind you carefully. “Honey, talk to me.”

“Carl. He… today… and I wanted to tell him no, but he gets mad when I do.” Even though you can't see him, you feel the anger roll off of him.

“Did that sonofabitch hurt you?”

“No, it's not like that. He didn't force me or anything. I just didn't enjoy it.” He relaxes a bit, but he's still not happy. The champagne makes him bold enough to ask the next question.

“Did you at least cum?” You shake your head.

“No, I never cum. He doesn't care about that.” You sigh deeply, trying not to think about it. He presses himself up behind you and cautiously slips his hand under your pajama top to rest just below your belly button.

“I think you should let me make up for it.” You turn and look up at him over your shoulder.

“And how are you gonna do that?” He presses kisses to the skin under your ear.

“By making you cum as many times as you can.” Then, you moan softly as his hand slips further down, under your pajama bottoms and panties. He finds your clit with the tip of his middle finger and starts to rub circles on you. You whimper a little and he slides down again to your entrance, gathering the wetness and teasing you before moving back to your clit.

“Fuck, Elvis.” You reach back and grab the nape of his neck as he pushes first one and then two fingers inside you.

“Good girl. Tell me what you need.”

“What?” It comes out as a half-moan.

“Fingers? Tongue? Cock? What do you need, honey?” He coos in your ear, his voice smooth and dripping honey, as the champagne flowing in both of you heightens the sensation.

“Umm… tongue?” You're not used to being given choices in bed. It's new and you like it more than you thought you would.

“Give me a direct command. Tell me what you want.” He nibbles on your earlobe. Your eyes flutter open and you turn and look at him again. “Go ahead. Tell me what to do.”

“Lick my pussy. Now.” Your voice comes out stronger than you intend so you add a shaky, “please.”

“No please. You're in charge here. I'll do whatever you want.”

“Then I want you to go down on me until I cum. Twice.” You smirk and he smiles widely.

“Yes ma'am.” You roll onto your back as he unbuttons your pajama top and kisses down your body. Instead of waiting for him to do it, you push your pajama pants and panties down and off and then spread your legs eagerly. He doesn't waste any time settling between them and dragging his tongue up your slit. You grab ahold of his hair and roll your hips into his face as he buries his tongue inside you, his nose pressed to your clit. He eats you with an urgency you've never experienced before and it doesn't take but three thrusts with his fingers for you to fall off a cliff into a wild orgasm, your body writhing as it pulses and throbs. You expect him to stop when you come down fully, but he doesn't.

“Baby, I came…”

“I know. You said twice.” You had been joking about wanting to cum twice, assuming he would know you weren't serious, but he obviously didn't. You're not even sure it's physically possible, but he seems insistent upon making it happen. He continues licking and sucking your clit, his fingers moving against your g-spot relentlessly as the blood begins to gather between your thighs again. You sit up on your elbows and look at him in shock. He doesn't even notice as his face is buried in your pussy, determined to push you into ecstasy again. You fall back on the bed and grab the headboard.

“Oh God, oh God!” You moan loudly as you feel the edges of your second orgasm closing in. He slows his pace, teasing your clit with his tongue lightly. You throw your head back and yell. “No! Don't stop. Lick my clit, baby.”

He giggles into you and goes back to dragging his whole tongue across your sensitive bud and you cum again, a primal scream coming from you as your legs tremble and you see starbursts behind your eyelids. You've never cum more than once before, so you lay there for a bit in a drunken pleasure high, chest heaving and sweat sticking to your skin as he licks you through it. When he pulls back, panting, you grab him and kiss him hard, noticing where his erection strains against the fabric of his pajama pants. Then, to his surprise, you shake off the pajama shirt and roll onto your stomach.

“Fuck me like this.” You spread your legs for him and he strips his pajamas off quickly.

“That's how you want it, honey?”

“Yes.” He lines the tips of his cock up with your entrance from behind.

“You got it, doll.” You groan as he slides into you as slowly as he can, but still all in one smooth motion.

“Oh, fuck yes.” You moan loudly. This is your favorite position, but Carl never does it. “Pull my hair.”

“Yes ma'am.” He chuckles and takes a handful of the back of your hair, pulling it until he can see the side of your face. His cock slides in and out of you rhythmically as he leans forward and kisses your cheek and then your shoulder. You lift your hips a little to change the angle slightly and his dick hits right on your g-spot. Another orgasm gathers and you feel like you might die because it's so good.

“Oh fuck, honey.” The new angle is especially good for him too and he moans, knowing he's not gonna last much longer. “I'm gonna cum. Where do you want it?”

“Inside. Fill me up, baby.” Your third climax is threatening to overwhelm you and just as it does, he cums too. He doesn't even consider the consequences as the wave of pleasure crashes into him and he releases deep inside you. You bite the pillow and moan as your pussy squeezes his cock like a throbbing vice grip.

“Fuck… yes…” He groans through gritted teeth. You give a little satisfied noise with the feeling of him pulsing inside you, so subtle that you'd miss it if you didn't know to pay attention to it. Finally, you feel him slide out of you and whimper softly. He collapses beside you on his back and you scoot over to lay on his chest. As he strokes your hair and kisses your forehead, he hums quietly.

“I like being in charge.” You murmur. He smiles against your skin.

“I thought you might. You were feeling so powerless. Sometimes you just need a chance to be the boss.”

“Sounds like you're speaking from experience.” He chuckles.

“Yeah, I like to be in charge sometimes too. But it's also nice to take orders.”

And then it just slips out of you, lubricated by the champagne and three orgasms.

“Next time you can be in charge.” He looks down at you on his chest.

“Next time?” You pop your head up so that your chin is resting on your hand on his chest. As his eyes look so deeply into yours, you know you mean what you said.

“Yes. Next time. And after that we'll flip a coin or something.” He rolls over on top of you and, holding the side of your neck with his hand, kisses you as passionately as you've ever been kissed before. When he backs out of the kiss, he presses his forehead to yours again.

“Good, because I've got to make you cum a lot more than that to undo all those years with Carl.” You giggle shamelessly and snuggle into him and he holds you like he's never going to let you go. The champagne hits you both and your eyes get heavier and heavier until they finally close.

******

When you realize the sun is out, you sit straight up in bed and gasp.

“Fuck! Elvis, we fell asleep! I have to go!” He sits up groggily rubbing his eyes.

“What?”

“It is morning.” His eyes pop open and you look at each other in terror.

“Oh fuck.”

******

Uh oh...

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Taglist:

@ccab @atleastpleasetelephone @aliypop @18lkpeters @dkayfixates @tacozebra051 @your-nanas-house @joshuntildawn13 @lookingforrainbows @60svintage @littlehoneyposts @epthedream69 @louisejoy86 @rjmartin11 @from-memphis-with-love @deltafalax @cinnamoroll-things @burnthheparaphilia @jhoneybees @cattcb @everythingelvispresley @returntopresley @searchingforgravity @msamarican @angschrof @lustnhim @polksaladava @librababe99 @hooked-on-elvis @theelvisprincess @makethemorning @peaceloveelvis @mrspresley69 @pxpresley @kxnnxy

[thechaoticcheese]

Cause I'm hacking up half a lung, have some head cannons on some COD folk and workouts-

Ghost

He loves lifting weights. Can't get enough of it. If he's working out, he's using every damn weight lifting machine available. He seems to dread cardio. Always having this look of tearing apart the treadmill or digging up the track, but he does it begrudgingly. He's silent about his distaste, knowing he has to keep fit for his position. Will silently complain and curse under his breath when no one is around.

Soap

Like Ghost, fucking loves the weights. You can often find the two spotting each other in the gym or workout room on base. However, Soap needs to be DRAGGED to participate in cardio. He doesn't care if he needs to stay in shape. He complains the entire time and everyone has started to just mute his voice out. He's gotten louder about complaining.

Gaz

He says that he doesn't have a preference, but he does enjoy running more. The only thing he enjoys more than running? Swimming. Though he won't tell you that, especially since some places don't have a pool. He'll go with the training, but he doesn't push himself as much on the weights as others and he's ok with that. As long as he can hang with his buds, he's happy.

Price

He fucking loves to run. He partly relieves stress whenever he runs, but if he can't, he smokes, bad combo I know and so does he, but he doesn't care. It hurts his lungs after a good run, but he could care less. Weights are definitely not his favorite, but he needs to keep up with his men, and Nikolai. You can sometimes hear him cursing under his breath and giving himself soft encouragement whenever he does set.

Price and Gaz love jogging together. Gaz never pokes fun at him until after the two are done, they usually just talk casually here and there.

Nikolai

Does not at all have a favorite. He loves working his body at any moment, but it's nothing ever heavy. It's the repetitive motions that give him enjoyment and often makes him remember working on some sort of stubborn piece of his helicopter. What's worse is that he's always just been kinda strong. He never really has to do anything to keep his body the way it is due to his job. Though he does really like working out with Price, even if it is just to see how red in the face his favorite Brit can get.

Laswell

Cardio. Nothing else. Or at least that's what she'd like to do. Since being entangled in 141, the guys have gotten her to start lifting, even just a little. They're not surprised that she does have muscle, but she hates weight lifting. She scowls the whole way through it, only for it to be worth it when her wife compliments how hard Laswell's been working on her form at home.

Graves

Fucking loves it. Cardio, weights, stretching. All. Of. It. He's that fit person in the group that is genuine in offering workout advice, but accidentally ends up pissing people off due to it. He's always at his A game with exercise and will always help people out.

Shepherd

No. Look at him. What exercise? He likes sitting in hot tubs after a 5 minute walk.

Alejandro

Loves to run as well. He is always striving to do better and swears one day he could beat Usain Bolt in a race. He cannot. He does have real good athleticism, but it just won't happen. He also likes weights. He just likes pushing his body, the slight pain from it afterwards always makes him excited for the next workout. Rudy often has to keep tabs on Ale to make sure he's not over doing it.

Rodolfo

Rudy is meh about exercise. He does it to stay fit and in Los Vaqueros. That and for Ale. Mainly because he finds the dude hot whenever he's pushing himself, baring his teeth as he tries to beat his previous record, but to also make sure he's not over doing it. Rudy lies and says he likes exercise, but only insists on doing it with Ale for the previous reasons.

Roach

Is dragged to it every time. No matter what. He does like it once he gets started, it's the getting started part that's hard. The idea of exercise sounds more taxing than it is, but always feels better afterwards.

[vicedmuses]

i think i want you as much as you want me. even though clayton had a healthy ego and knew that people would be lucky to get a chance with him, it was nice to hear that this wasn't just about giving the man a job or paying him a higher sum of money. they both seemed to like each other. before, he didn't have any ground to stand on when making up the younger man's part of the conversation. now? now he had all of the confirmation that he needed. he barely stayed in monogamous relationships, but that wasn't because he didn't like them. he just never sought them out and no one tried to make a stable man out of him. so when his shirt was fully unbuttoned and he was able to show off more of himself, he smiled softly. “good, because i plan to turn you on as much as humanly possible. every second i can make your cock hard or your hole clench just thinking about me or listening to me is a second that i'm a winner.” he wrapped his arms around caius' waist. not only to support him, but also because he just liked being close to him. skin to skin. touching any way possible. “i don't just like you because you gave me the best blowjob of my life by the way.” that part was true. he liked that the man didn't stop when he wanted something. that determination was admirable and not something that everyone had. “so i think i'd like that. although i hope you know, if i'm going to be sleeping with you weekly i'm not going to just seek you out for sex. i'm going to take you out to shows, dinner, and everything else you can imagine when someone is being courted.” he returned the kiss slowly. something that almost seemed innocent if you didn't know what the two had gotten up to earlier and why they were here now. then, when he felt that delicious tongue sneak its way into his mouth, he couldn't hold back anymore. clayton started to suck on his tongue lightly, not putting too much force behind it. he moaned a little at the taste and the fact that the two of them seemed to be losing themselves in the deep kiss. his shaft throbbed, bulge growing even more, as he heard the moans come from the man's mouth. only one of the many reasons that he found him to be quite attractive. he didn't know how he was going to manage to pull himself away from him. he was starting to get so used to just kissing him. 

honestly, someone could have told him that kiss lasted ten minutes and he would have believed it. time moved different with caius. he liked it. “kissing's a two way street. only that good because i have such a good partner to do it with.” he winked at the man as more of his clothing was taken off. he watched careful at how it was placed in a neat pile on the chair. good to know that he was at least going to be taken care of while he was here. since he wasn't planning on leaving right after they finish their session together. “if you're sure. i can think of a couple of ways to fill you up anyway.” he smirked slightly after hearing the curse. clayton even gave him a little show, flexing his muscles when it came time for his biceps to be touched. he worked hard on his body, so when it came time to show it off he wasn't going to be the type to back away from it. “trust me, i'm going to use you up as i see fit, but i want to make sure that you can still enjoy yourself too. do you have any plans for the weekend? after i'm done with you, i was planning on taking you to a spa. i already made some reservations for sunday morning. that way your body can be fully relaxed for monday and you won't have to worry about anything.” once again, it was a part of him taking care of his partners when he actually did have them. “if you've seen the things i'd smoke, you'd know that this is more than alright with me. i have some back home too, so it's not like i'm against it.” to show his case a little more, he took the joint and took in a deep inhale before releasing the puff. then, he did it a second time, but a little different. that time, he breathed the smoke into caius' mouth while kissing him deeply. with the joint still in his mouth, he made sure to slowly remove the man's shirt. also putting it in the same pile as his. he wanted to make sure that he smelled like him by the end of this. then, clayton returned the joint to the rightful owner and stepped back. “you're not going to have to do anything else tonight.” he slowly took off his pants, making sure to stand in a place where caius could see a hint of cock, but also the curve of his ass. then, when all of his clothes were in a pile, he went back and got down on his knees in front of caius. he hooked his fingers onto the waistband of his sweatpants, slowly pulling them down. at the same time, clay would kiss along his thighs and legs. then, he repeated those motions until both of them were naked. he grabbed his new employee by his legs, slowly lifting them up. “smoke away baby, i'm going to eat you out like you've never been eaten out before.” 

All the things Clayton was saying eased every and any worry he had; he was quick to come around, to acknowledge that perhaps the rough and tough demeanor the man had in appearance was qualmed by his gentle nature. He was surprised surprised (and pleased) to see just how intimate and passionate the man was, by the way he was administering kisses to his lips and face. It made him pause for a second, just as he undid the last button of the man's shirt, tugging it free from where it had been tucked into his pants, freeing up the space to unveil his torso. Caius was sure to feast his eyes upon it soon, but for now, he maintained eye contact as the man spoke on, reassuring him in that calm, deep tone of voice. "Wow," he chuckled, a grin on his face. "I have to confess, the more you speak, the more turned on I get." That, and the attraction was practically palpable. If this was any other situation, he would be asking the man out on a real date... even if Caius had never actually been on one. Most of his encounters were for sex for monetary gain or something born out of passion. "I just want you to know... you don't have to pay me to get a chance at my ass. At this point, I think I want you as much as you want me." Caius stood on the tips of his toes, standing tall so he could wrap his arms around the man's shoulders, a hand finds the back of Clayton's head, Caius' body (though bulky) is slender as he stretched his back in order to lift himself upward, since the two were of relative height. "If after tonight you enjoy being inside of me, and you decide I'm a worthy fuck, perhaps we should arrange for this to be a weekly thing." Playfully, he wiggled his brows at the man, his features softening as he leaned in, their bodies aligning together as Caius stole a sweet, chaste kiss from his plump lips. This kiss was more sincere, more intimate, tender. He latched onto the upper lip, his mouth opened lightly to enable his tongue to sneak out in order to joyfully toy with its newest partner. Every now and then, a soft moan and a whimper would escape his lips. Kissing was not something he did, especially with past partners and hook-ups, since it was deemed a very intimate gesture. So as he stood there, the kiss being reciprocated with a man so attractive, wealthy and well-endowed, Caius was a vocal mess.

Eventually, the kiss broke away. The result causing his cock to throb as it pressed against Clayton's own bulge. "Sweet Jesus, you're a fuckin' good kisser, Boss." Caius' face was plastered with a sincere smile. His feet set back down on the cement floor of his loft apartment, hands returning to the front to sweep between layers of clothing to caress over the wide expansion of Clayton's chest. "I don't think I'm all that hungry now, I can eat later." He hummed, eyes glancing down at the nature of that strong chest, pert nipples, delectable abs. Caius helped to rid the man of every garment of clothing from his torso, until he stood there in just his pants. Usually, he would carelessly throw things aside, but noticing just how expensive and pristine his suits were, he decided to dress them over a nearby chair. Upon returning, he didn't shy away from taking both hands to test the might and dexterity of the man's biceps. "Hm, fuck." And then simply, he allowed his hand graze along his stomach, his touch a sweet caress along supple flesh. "While I may not be the most skilled bottom you've ever met, don't feel like you have to be too careful with me. Yes, maybe not in the first hour, but... I want you to fuck me like you want to. Don't worry about me, Boss. I know I'm going to struggle to sit and walk after tonight, but I'm glad I have this entire weekend to heal myself up for my first day on the job on Monday." By another quick press to his lips, his left hand latched itself onto the belt buckle at the centre front of the man's hips, guiding him backwards into the living room area, where the stench of marijuana was a lot more noticeable. "Ah, sorry about the blunt. Was settling my nerves a bit." The entire joint was still unsmoked, Caius only having taken a few puffs of it before Clayton knocked upon his door. He reached down, took it between his thumb and pointer finger and took a drag of it. "This alright with you?" He wasn't sure where Clayton stood on smoking, so he offered it out to him as he sat down, "You want a hit of this?" Caius leaned back into the sofa, the size and heft of his cock visible in his sweatpants, his gaze turning down to the volume of the man's groin; he knew from his earlier experience, Clayton wasn't yet fully erect. "If you'd prefer, I wouldn't mind laying back, smoking it, and watch you unravel your prize." Meaning, Caius was still pretty much fully clothed, and he ached to be naked, so long as Clayton was just as exposed to his eyes as well. "But before you do, I need to see you. All of you. Please."

[anonymocha]

finally coming out as a dyke in 2023 is realizing i dont need to pretend to simp that Guy just because everyone else in my friend group does

[edge-oftheworld]

I don’t really talk about it much on here because I’m extremely lucky to be able to understand exactly what’s going on in my body, but it’s scary to live for years as someone who Gets Things Done in a way your peers don’t really understand, be putting effort into so many things you care about, and then suddenly lose the ability to do not only that but also basic tasks overnight after a deadline, and bit by bit after many. it’s scary getting really irritable sometimes to the point of violence, just when you were meant to be celebrating the rewards from your hard work, the only impact of the work you did that you can see is that you overdrafted your ability to do anything. including have a basic conversation without getting grumpy or crying. and your body is going to make you pay it back with interest, you already know that, but you don’t know how to start filling yourself back up. you’ve only ever enjoyed being on the grind, hard at work on exciting things.

I don’t know how many of you have been through the kind of burnout that’s years of needing 12hrs of sleep a night but with terrible insomnia, waking up to what feels like a hangover for weeks on end with little relief then rinse and repeat without having a single drink, feeling too sick to eat and needing to exercise to emotionally regulate but being unable to, anxiety that doesn’t come from worry but you’ll pick that up too at some point, dissociating every time you try to do mentally taxing tasks that you’re PAID for so it takes an hour of grounding yourself just to get five minutes worth of productive concentration, falling asleep the minute you feel a little safe by being in the presence of loved ones. but I suspect I’m not the only one.

I’ve had songs for the energetic and angsty times leading up to this. for the exasperated times and the brain fog and the times where all my limited energy is tied up in feeling things. that I need to, need to acknowledge, but it’s overwhelming and I live in a haze for weeks as a result of. songs telling of the kind of youth I wish I had, even when I was sold something else. songs for the months spent as a teenager trying to be there for my friends, worrying for them, distracting me from worrying for myself, trying to cling on to positivity and hope amongst it when I had to choose to make a discipline of always seeing that. I’ve had songs for healing and when healing is harder than expected and songs that have the right level of musical complexity to capture the layers of everything that’s happening in my head, making it sound good, telling me it’s gonna be okay.

I don’t know how I could ever say thank you for this. but I do know that I see parts of myself in the people behind these songs, of course I do, and I worry for them as a result and ache for them because it’s hard enough to feel this way when no one knows me or feels the need to control me or mould me into what they think I should be. I’d do anything to keep them all healthy and happy and all of their loved ones too and I don’t think it’s strange as a fan to take that seriously. I hope we can understand the need to treat them gently, and to while not questioning their privacy and the fact that they’re never going to tell us everything they go through, listen to our intuition when we catch something we relate to and treat what they’ve shared with us or hinted at with the dignity we would if someone we love told us something vulnerable. be kind in our expectations and be intentional in the fan culture we create because it does make its way back to them.

and the same goes with all of you. we’re bonding over the same things. I know a lot of this fandom is in the stage where interpersonal relationships are hard. we don’t mean to be grumpy of frustrated but we are. and I’m sending love to all of you. we can get through this together. it’s what they’ve always longed for isn’t it?

[tenwhiteandalusians]

pertaining to the idea of tenax’s band of strays i do think it’s touching that the kids are the ones who saved him and waited outside the door to make sure he’s okay. for all tenax claims to be harsh and cruel it’s a fine indicator of his character that the kids won’t rest without him and are there every time he’s in danger.

[bmpmp3]

Getting into stuff that has a lot of pre-announced release dates is really good for me like vocal synthesizer products and new love live etc franchise music releases....I'll be lying in bed at like 2 AM with ur usual 20-something's fear and existentialism over time and the future and then I'll remember a piece of singing software or a new song related to cartoon characters I like is gonna come out like next month and I'm like 😌

[jikigo]

you ever just see a post and just

. 😭

.⬅️🫀⬅️

[kyouka-supremacy]

DON'T MANIFEST AKUTAGAWA'S FEELINGS BEING UNREQUITED WAGEHGAHTJSHHAJ

But does it count as manifesting if I'm just stating facts 🤔😔😔

[peapod20001]

I like to think that if my tumblr pals came to my house, they’d have a good time

[lilalilan]

Or I guess. I say that I have it easy comparatively, but that's not entirely true. My name has an English equivalent. I'm pretty sure most people think of them as the same, but they're not.

My name is sharp. Quick and sleek. It means innocence and purity (which I love for the irony of it all). My name is not in English.

The English version of my name is slow and clunky and round. It means nothing in and of itself, although it's derived from a different name that doesn't have a meaning to it. Even if English speakers try to say my name correctly, it's too slow, too clunky. I'd rather they call me by the different, similar, English name than butcher my actual one.

It hurts. Assimilation is a violent process when the individual doesn't want to do it, and people attempting to force my name into their version of it hurts. People claiming they know my name when it's never actually, properly left their mouth hurts. It's not my name or my culture, it's your name and your culture that I am forced to accept because you get annoyed when I tell you it's not my name and that you're saying it wrong when you try to say my name.

I hate that I have to speak your language if I want you to understand. Do you understand what it's like to be forced to translate yourself if you want to be understood, but by the fact of translation never being able to actually be understood? Do you understand what it's like to never be able to exist in your entirety around other people? Do you know what it's like to be refused something as basic as your own name, while being told that this bulbous, noxious thing is the same as your name?