#peaches series

[malavera]

did i released peaches part 3 too fast? 🫣

[harringtons-cupid]

Peaches - Part 7

wc: 3.5k

Warnings 18+: Smut: pregnancy sex, daddy kink, fingering, choking, creampie, female masturbation, clit spanking. Fluff: love confession, discussion of family, flashbacks, kissing, lusting. Angst: Talks of cheating, physical violence, hospital dicussion.

Tagged: @urlbitchin @oo0lady-mad0oo, @sweet-villain @joejoequinnquinn @moonchildquinn @goldyghoul @josephquinnwitch @eddiemunsonwillbethedeathofme @eddiemunsons-missingnipple

I actually wrote this as a love letter from Joe to my followers. Sounds cheesy but I couldn't have completed the fics that I have written without your support. I love you just as much as Joe and Peaches.

| 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | Masterlist| Buy me a coffee |

[Feedback and reblogs are important, please support your content creators!]

Your baby began to grow, enough that the little patter against your skin made you giggle. Joe had helped create a nursery for the baby in your shared house, he had moved his minimal amount of belongings that sat against your wardrobe. 

The nursery was surrounded by unopened boxes all containing the necessary items for the birth. 

Since the New Orleans trip, Joe’s fans had circulated all kinds of rumors and theories about you. As you had quit social media a few weeks after finding out you were pregnant, you had no idea that some people disliked you. 

Their jealousy already overwhelmed you, Joe didn’t talk about it as he knew it would upset you. He had already hurt you enough with his own words and didn’t want to cause a further strain on your relationship. 

As you signed off your last email of your job before you began your maternity leave, you sighed and rested into the sofa. The house was silent, you were alone. 

The image of Joe flashed in your mind, it had been a few days since you last had sex. Your hormonal body was dying to be touched, the television played in the background as your hand slid down your underwear. 

Gasping as your hands were colder than your throbbing clit, your stomach was bigger now and slightly hiding your cunt. 

Biting your lip as you began to circle your clit with your fingers, lifting your palm slightly to spank it and making you gasp. 

The sound of the front door slamming shut startled you, unable to move your hand out your underwear quick enough as Joe’s face popped round the door frame with a smirk. 

“Have I caught you touching yourself with me?” He raised his eyebrows, every foot step made you tremble with excitement. 

He sat down next to you, lifting your head up to meet him. You nodded quickly as his lips crashed into yours and his cool ringed finger slid between your wet cunt. Playing with your opening, his thumb circling your clit as you hips bucked against his hands. 

“You were being naughty when I caught you, weren’t you?’’ he whispered, his fingers slipped between your folds and into your entrance. 

Smirking at your gasp at the feeling of his finger inside you, your hips moving quicker as you felt yourself get wetter and wetter by the second. Your eyes staring into him as he watched your body in pleasure, your hands gripped onto the loose pillows behind you as you moaned loudly into the room. 

‘’Fuck Joe, it feels so good’’ you whined loudly, your knuckles began to loose their colour from gripping onto the pillow so hard. 

His eyes flashed darker as he sped up inside you, ignoring the obvious cramp in his wrist as he flicked your clit and curling his fingers deeper inside you. 

Your body shook as you edged closer to your orgasm, grabbing onto his face and pulling him in for a kiss. 

“Fuck me Joe” you groaned, he snapped out of his trance and slowed down his pace. 

Your pussy aching for something to fill it as you waited for his hard cock to slide inside you, maintaining eye contact with him until you squeak at the feeling of his cock hitting your soft spot. Your walls pulsating around him as he began to thrust, your legs wrapped tightly around his back. Your nails digging into his skin, moaning loudly into his mouth. 

“Your pussy feels so good” he groaned, quickening his pace as he listened to your moans in his ear. 

His hands moving from around your side, wrapping themselves around your throat and squeezing. Grinning as you struggled to breath, your moans supressed as he fucked you deeper into the bed. Your clit slamming into his pelvic bone as your tits hit against your chest. 

“Hmm, you going to fill up my pregant pussy. Daddy?” you weezed with a smile. Watching his eyes flash darker, squeezing harder onto your neck as he thrusted rough around your walls. 

Letting go of your throat to hear your cries, your clit twitched as you felt yourself edge closer to your orgasm. Only being able to moan out “daddy”, your hands scratched down his body until they reached his cheeks and you spanked them as you used them for support. 

Unable to resist from cumming any longer, you clentched and unclentched until you felt yourself squirt hard around his cock, your body shaking as your eyes rolled back. Cumming hard, he continued to fuck you even after you finished cumming. Ignoring your overstimulated whines. 

“No baby, let Daddy cum. You want your pregant pussy filled up don’t you” he groaned, kissing you roughly as you nodded against him. 

Gritting your teeth together as his cock hit your walls harder and harder until you heard his groans turn into shudders. His cock emptied inside you, the hot sticky liquid being used as lube as Joe continued to fuck it deeper inside you. Your whines growing louder and louder as you were unable to concentrate on anything but him. 

“Don’t worry baby, Daddy is going to make sure all his cum is deep inside you” he groaned, shaking until he too couldn’t take it anymore. 

“See, all Daddy’s cum is deep inside you now. Such a good girl for me, you did so well” he stopped moving, kissing you slowly and letting his limp cock slide out of you with a smile. 

As you lay on your bed with sweat glistening off your pregnant stomach, you felt your baby kick. Giggling from the sensation, you grabbed Joe’s sleepy hand and pressed it into your skin. Gasping, he pulled out his sleepy slumber and attention was drawn to your stomach. 

He was smiling and gazing between you and your stomach, both hands were cupping the movements. Bending down so his mouth was as close as it could get, whispering words that you were unable to hear. 

You were 21 weeks, growing bigger and bigger by the second. Joe could rest on your stomach, he joked with you that he had an extra pillow. 

Joe was with you for most of your days, he arranged his meetings via voom or teams as you got closer to your due date. He didn’t want to miss anything. 

Closing your eyes for a second relaxing with the mumbling noises from Joe, you were interrupted by Joe’s phone loudly ringing in his pocket. 

“Sorry babe, I have to go” he smiled and kissed you softly before dashing out the door. 

You felt yourself fall back into a heavy sleep, awoken to the sounds of Emily’s voice in front of you. The look of concern was flashing across her face, she had her phone out. Rubb ing your eyes, you shrugged at her until she brought up a photo of Joe and a woman. 

Practically snatching the phone off her, you zoomed in on the photo. You recognised the woman as Anna, the woman Joe had been sleeping with a few months earlier. 

Feelings of hurt and panic filled your body, Emily sat down at your feet. Stroking them softly in comfort, you sighed and placed the phone down. 

“It’s Anna, he was seeing her a few months ago. She liked me apparently” you rolled your eyes, tears filled up as you blinked. 

“Oh hon, you don’t know that he’s seeing her. He seems pretty committed to you” she smiled with reassurance. 

Pulling you for a hug, she felt the baby kick against her skin and squealed loudly in your ear. Your laughter rippled across both your bodies as you watched her eyes light up with delight. 

She stayed with you for the rest of the day, soothed every doubt that came your way. 

The sun settled on your hair when the door crept open, faint snores came from your face as he slipped into bed with you. Pulling the hair out of your eyes, he smiled a guilty smile as he watched you until his eyes began to droop. 

When you woke up, he was towering over you with a cup of tea and that captivating smile. You couldn’t help but accept the drink off him as he sat next to you. 

You had so many things to ask him but you were so tired that all you could do was sip on the tea and mull your thoughts. 

As you sat in the garden alone with the sun on your face, your heart broke a little as you heard him answer another phone call in the kitchen. Peering around on your chair to get any bit of the conversation, 

“I love her, I met you because you said you had some of my things. She’s having my baby, plus I think you have forgotten that she was here first. Before you and she always will be” he sighed, rubbing his brow as a muffled voice answered him. 

Shrugging his shoulders, he ended the call before continuing his tasks in the kitchen. You stared out at the garden with your now cold cup of tea, thinking about his words. Smiling to yourself, you knew that he was beginning to grow. 

Standing in the hallway of your kitchen, the sun bouncing off his blonde curls just watching him from the distance. Wondering what was circling his mind as he noisily cleaned the dishes in the house, 

“What if we went away” you placed your cup down on the counter, startling him slightly. 

Those beautiful brown orbs stared back at you, a smile creased his skin as he placed the dishes in the sink and walked closer to you. His breath was hitting your cheek as he held you in his soapy wet hands, observing your faces with his eyebrows knitted together. You could tell that he was unsure if you were serious. 

“Is this about Anna?” he broke the silence, hearing you sigh. 

“No, it wasn’t about Anna. I wanted to go away with the father of my child in hopes that I could reconnect a fucking relationship with him” you spat, pushing him away from you and making your way out of the room. 

Exasperated you rushed upstairs, peering into the unfinished nursery before collapsing onto your shared bed. The feeling of nausea overcame you, cleaning yourself up. You decided to distract yourself by completing the nursery, baby names floated around in your head and the wonder, if the baby will take your last name or Joe’s, was something that played on in your mind. 

The theme of the nursery was dark oak and green, not wanting to press any traditional societal colours onto the baby from the moment it was born. You had always been accepting of people’s unique personalities and identities, vowing yourself to never become that type of parent. 

As you folded up baby clothes that had been handed down from both of your and Joe’s parents, the furniture was a gift off Joe with a mixture of thrifted items. Sighing with a smile as the sun sprayed through the curtains and hitting the newly arranged baby cot, you thought about whether Joe would stick around for the birth. 

There were uncertainties but you knew that your feelings for Joe would never change, since your childhood you had always been drawn to him. As the sun shifted and shone in your eyes, you thought about the day that you both knew that you loved each other. 

Joe was staring at the sunset through your bedroom window, it was windy that rattled against the window. His hand slipped into yours with that cheeky smile, pulling you out of the room and into the cool breeze of the evening. The sound of his giggle echoed through the wind until you were stood either side of each other staring directly at the pink and blue sky with the sun hiding between the clouds. 

“It’s almost as pretty as you” he stuttered, his eyes moving off the sky for a second to look at you. 

A beaming smile was plastered across your face as you squeezed his hand, feeling giddy with excitement and childlike joy. 

You were 14 at your childhood house, Joe lived down the country lane. Neither of you had any idea that his family would be moving within the next weeks, you had no care in the world as he pulled you onto the grass. 

The grass tickled your thighs as your dress rode up, his body close to yours as the colours stained the sky. Bouncing off onto his skin as he turned to look at you, those innocent eyes staring into yours as you felt yourself pulled to him. His lips met yours, softly pecking your lips your hands cupped his face as you knew you wanted more. 

Coming up for air, that dizzy feeling filled your mind as you grinned at him before resting your head on his shoulder watching the last of the sun disappear to leave the colour clouds behind. 

The day Joe would leave your childhood houses was heart breaking, you knew that you wouldn’t be the same. Spending every second with him until his parents physically had to pry you both apart, tears stinging your cheeks as you cried loudly until your voice was hoarse. Not caring that you were embarrassing yourself, as your parents let you go of you both. 

You ran back towards him and hugged him tightly, staining each others t-shirts with tears as you mumbled your goodbyes. 

“I will never forget you, I will call and write to you. I promise Peaches” he wailed as his parents once again pulled him away and into the car. 

His hands pressed against the window holding out for your hand that mirrored it, your heart hurt as you watched him disappear from your view. Falling to the ground with heartbreak, grasping onto your chest as your mum held you and carried you to the sofa. 

Joe did write, every day but only one ever arrived to your house. 

When you turned 16, your parents decided that they wanted to move to a cheaper house away from your childhood. More livelihood for you to grow in, by this point you were used to being let down. The only man you had ever thought about loving was gone. 

The day that you packed your last box, you sighed as memories flood back in of you and Joe but you knew that they would always be with you. The next day, you were surprised when the doorbell rang and familiar voices filled your townhouse hallway. Pinching yourself to wake yourself up from the dream as he stood in front of you, his cheeky grin plastered on his face. 

“Hey Peaches” he was almost sick with happiness, you changed a bit from when he saw you last but he looked at you just the same. 

You would spend almost every day together until he turned 18, deciding to go away to study. 

“Hey Peaches, there you are” he smiled at you, leaning into the nursery as you sat on the floor with the coordinated piles of items. 

Staring at you with that same look on his face, entering the room to join you as he sat opposite you and began organising with you. You felt at peace, your hands brushing together every now and then. The mixed feelings disappeared in these moments and you felt like you always had with him. 

“Let’s go away” you smiled, neatly folding the tiny baby clothes in front of you. Reaching out to touch his hand softly and squeezing it. Watching him nod at you as he squeezed back. 

Later that night as Joe’s fingers traced on your skin, the white glow of his laptop screen emitted into the room. He looked at you before the swooshing sound of a tweet was sent, detailing that he would taking some time off to focus on his life with you. Logging out to ignore the influx of tweets and messages from everyone of his fans and followers, to research the best place to take you away. 

His mind wandered to the letters that he sent you from when he was 14, quietly climbing out of bed. He sat at your desk, the crumpled cardboard box sat neatly in the wardrobe beside the bed watching to see if you were still asleep he pulled it out. Mountains of letters filled to the brim with his hand writing, and every time he went to send the letter it was returned to him. 

After sorting through them, he placed them back in the box in the order of years and sealed it back up. Quietly beginning to write a new letter for you. 

Peaches, 

You thought I had forgotten you all those years ago when we were in our early teens but you can read through all the unread letters, you will know that I thought about you every day. I still feel that way for you, you were and always will be. My best friend. 

I cannot wait to begin this family with you, i’m sorry for messing you about but I was scared. I was scared I wouldn’t be good enough or ever worthy of you.

With love 

Joe

Sealing the letter and addressing it to you, he left the box on your desk. Kissing your cheek as the morning sun crept through the windows, he decided to sit downstairs at the kitchen table to practice the lines for his new role as he thought about you. 

You woke up alone, your heart breaking slightly as you assumed the worst. Noticing the cardboard box on your desk that was towering over the mirror that lent against your wall. Curiosity filled your veins as you balanced on the seat, picked up the neatly written letter and began to read. Gasping at the contents inside, you practically ripped open the box to see piles of unread letters from when Joe was 14 until he was 16. 

 You opened one of them and began to read it: 

Peaches

It sucks here without you, maybe I’ll come to visit this summer. I know my parents want to take me away on holiday but I would miss it, if it meant I could see you. 

How are you? How’s the country? Still the same I’m guessing. 

I hope to hear from you soon 

Joe 

Prying open another letter, this one was at the bottom of the pile dating to when you and Joe were 16. 

Peaches

I haven’t heard from you in a long time, maybe you don’t feel the same as you did when you were younger but I think about you all the time. 

The city isn’t the same as the country, I still remember how you were the last time I saw you. I hope you are well, my cousins are getting on my nerves as they always were. They will probably tease me for writing to you. 

Anyway, I hope to hear from you soon. 

I miss you 

Joe 

You clasp the letter close to your chest as tears fell down your cheek, the feeling of nostalgia and love flowing through you. Neatly placing all the letters back into the box, you rushed downstairs with your purple satin dressing gown dragging behind you. 

Joe was nowhere to be seen, the house stood still as you felt your phone vibrate aggressively in your pocket. Scrunching your face together as you saw his mums name flash on your phone screen, nervously you answered it. Instantly breaking down at her news, only bothering to change into something comfortable before starting your car. 

Your hands shook as the keys rattled against the plastic, the chugging sounds of your sad lonely car began to start. Trying to calm down your breathing as you drove as quickly as you could to where they were, different tears fell down your cheeks as you parked wonkily in the car park and rushed inside. 

Catching up with the nurse as she rushed you into the room where Joe’s parents sat crowded round him. Bursting into tears as his mum held you, getting a glimpse of Joe in the corner of your eye with tubes all directed into different parts of his body. 

“What happened?” you finally mustered up to say, scanning her face for answers. 

“A car hit him, he’s okay. Stable but they put him to sleep just so that he can heal a bit better” her voice broke slightly as she spoke, bringing you into a hug. 

You hugged everyone in the room, sitting the closest to him until everyone else had left. The nurses kindly began making a bed next to him, as your palm grew sweaty from holding his hand. 

In the corner of your eye, you saw a battered tin of peaches peeping out of his crumpled rucksack on the floor, your heart shattered as you looked between him and the bag. Leaning closer to him with tears in your eyes.

[goldensunset]

people who go through the main tags of big and tumultuous fandoms looking for new fresh good posts to reblog are essential to any circle. they’re like true hunter gatherers leaving the safety of settlement and braving the unknown wilderness to find food for the flock. they risk their lives every day and will come back with a few scratches at best and severe psychological damage at worst

[mimimar]

the lovebird fairies

(art prints)

[pigdemonart]

Part 2 of 3

read part 1 here!

Read part 3 here!

This one took a little longer than usual since I’m moving this week, so there is a lot to pack. Fun pages though, every poor expression on Luigi makes me smile. Wet chihuahua of a man.

Like my art? Please consider tipping!

Wanna support? Please check out this zine!

[danielsarmand]

just peach dragging home away like an exasperated mother

[gunsatthaphan]

"do you agree? - yes."

[riggerbison]

silly little ghost show putting me in my feelings in ep. 6 & 7

[pinkdragonsensie]

October in the glade of dreams ^^

[malavera]

Peaches: “Would you be so kind in lending a hand?” (18+) — Logan Howlett

summary: the friendly old man neighbor of yours is helping you with your wash day

warning: the setting of this one-shot is AU no correlation to Wolverine & Deadpool, SMUT! MDNI, fingering, female oral receiving, age gap (legal), no use of Y/N, the use of pet name peach, sir kink, squirting

wc: 3.5k (well it's a full shot not a drabble ehe)

creds: i forgot where the divider is from, creds to the creator!

dedicating this one to my favorite authors!

@velvrei @wolverinesleftclaw @stark-ironman @lovelybucky1 @cyber333angel @dollverine @joelsgoldrush

peaches masterlist

The day had finally come when you decided enough was enough. The laundry had been sitting there for three days, staring at you from the corner of your room like a silent accusation. Today was the day you would conquer it. Armed with your resolve, you hauled the overflowing basket to the laundry room. But as fate would have it, the universe had other plans.

The washing machine, that steadfast appliance you’d trusted for years, chose this very moment to betray you. The once familiar hum was replaced by a groan, a sputter, and then—nothing. You stared at it, disbelief turning to frustration as you realized the mountain of clothes in your arms was going nowhere. Your favorite pair of undies, buried somewhere in the pile, would have to wait.

You let out a long sigh, leaning back against the machine, its cool surface doing little to soothe your annoyance. Arms crossed, you dialed your father’s number, hoping for some semblance of a solution.

“Dad, the washing machine broke,” you said, half hoping he’d have a quick fix, half dreading his response.

There was a pause before he spoke, his voice calm, almost too calm. “Ask Logan for help, he’s pretty handy with stuff. I won’t be back until 8 PM tonight, buttercup.”

You nearly dropped the phone. Logan. Of course, it had to be him. The very thought of knocking on his door, asking him for help, sent a thrill of anxiety coursing through you. Why did it have to be him?

Logan Howlett—the man who occupied your thoughts far too often, the man who was the face of your wildest dreams. Just the mention of his name made your heart race. And now, you were supposed to ask him for help? The universe certainly had a twisted sense of humor.

You ended the call, staring at the washing machine like it was some cruel joke. The burnt toast theory, they called it. Sometimes, when things went wrong, it was the universe’s way of steering you toward something better. But as you stood there, contemplating the inevitable encounter with Logan, you couldn’t help but wonder if this was a blessing in disguise—or a test you weren’t sure you could pass.

Logan Howlett had been a fixture in your mind for five long months, ever since he moved into the neighborhood. It wasn’t just his rugged good looks or the way he carried himself with that effortless confidence; it was the way he seemed to have slipped so seamlessly into your life. Your dad, always quick to befriend a fellow drinker, had taken to him immediately. They were practically inseparable, sharing beers on the front porch, watching games in the living room, and even lingering over meals in the dining room.

And there you were, sneaking glances every time Logan was around, feeling that unmistakable flutter in your chest whenever he caught your eye.

Today, though, was different. Somehow, you found yourself standing on his porch, heart pounding as your fist hovered in mid-air. What were you thinking? Asking Logan for help—it felt too forward, too direct. But here you were, ignoring every ounce of self-doubt, raising your hand to knock on his door.

You barely had time to second-guess yourself before the door swung open. And there he was, the embodiment of everything that had been haunting your thoughts for months: tall, effortlessly sexy, his dark hair tousled just right. He was wearing a white shirt that clung to his broad chest and shoulders, tucked into denim jeans that fit him perfectly. You couldn’t help but notice how the summer sun cast a warm glow on his skin, making the moment feel almost surreal.

“Hey,” Logan’s voice broke through your reverie, casual yet deep enough to send a shiver down your spine. He squinted against the sunlight, his expression shifting into one of familiarity. “I was about to come over. Your dad called and asked me to check on something.”

You swallowed, trying to keep your voice steady as your mind raced. “Yeah, the washing machine broke. Dad said you could help… Would you be so kind in lending a hand?”

You could hear your own voice, slightly strained as you tried to strike the perfect balance. Not too high-pitched, not too low. Not too eager, not too aloof. But before you could overthink it any further, Logan flashed you a small smile, one that made your heart do a little flip.

“Yeah, sure, Peach.”

And there it was—that damn nickname that never failed to turn your insides into mush. It started innocently enough, the day your dad brought home a bag full of peaches and peach-flavored drinks. Logan had been there, chuckling at the sight, and ever since, he’d called you “Peach” with that easy, teasing tone. Now, every time he said it, you couldn’t help but melt a little, even if you tried to play it cool.

As you turned to lead him to your house through the backyard, you couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, this was the universe’s way of pushing you closer to the man who had taken up residence in your thoughts.

“It made a really loud noise and it was shaking really bad, the sound was a bit scary,” you admitted, your voice tinged with worry. “And also, can you check if my clothes are alright? Did it tear them off or something?”

Logan nodded thoughtfully, a low hum of consideration escaping him as he surveyed the situation. “Where did your dad put his tools?” he asked, his gaze already scanning the room.

“Oh, it’s right there,” you said, pointing towards the shelf against the wall. Determined to be helpful, you stood on your tippy toes, stretching to reach the toolbox. But before you could grasp it, Logan moved past you with ease, his hand already closing around the handle.

“Careful, Peach. It’s pretty heavy,” he murmured from behind you, his voice close enough to send a subtle shiver down your spine. His presence loomed over you as he reached up effortlessly, the scent of his cologne mingling with the warm summer air.

You stepped back, feeling a mix of flustered and grateful as he handled the heavy toolbox with ease, making you feel small and protected all at once.

“O-okay.” The stutter slipped out before you could stop it. Seriously? Get a grip, you scolded yourself internally. Trying to regain some composure, you quickly added, “I’m just—gonna… fix you something to drink.” You gestured awkwardly towards the kitchen, hoping to retreat before you embarrassed yourself further.

Logan nodded absentmindedly, his focus entirely on the washing machine that seemed to be on its last legs. He didn’t even glance your way, which was both a relief and a disappointment. You took a nervous step back, then another, finally turning and heading to the kitchen, hoping a moment away would help you steady your nerves.

Leaving his presence created an unfamiliar ache in your chest, a tug of reluctance you hadn’t anticipated. It was as if some part of you didn’t want to leave his side, didn’t want to be apart from the quiet strength that Logan exuded. The thought of retreating to the kitchen, of putting physical distance between you and him, felt wrong, almost unnatural.

You wanted to stay. You wanted to watch him work on the broken machine, to see those skilled hands in action, to listen to the steady, assured way he moved and spoke. But at the same time, you knew you couldn’t trust yourself around him. Not when your heart raced at every little interaction, not when just being near him made you feel so unsteady.

You didn’t have the confidence to be casual, to act like you weren’t hanging on his every word and gesture. And you certainly didn’t have the strength to face the feelings that threatened to overwhelm you every time you were close to him. So instead, you sought refuge in the kitchen, hoping the distance would help calm the storm inside you, even as it left you aching for more.

Twisting the faucet, you watched as the water streamed out, the steady flow almost hypnotic in its simplicity. The kitchen was quiet, the only sound the gentle rush of water hitting the sink. You leaned forward, letting the coolness soothe your heated skin, and splashed your face with the cold water, hoping it would bring some clarity to your muddled thoughts.

For a moment, the shock of the cold jolted you back to reality, away from the overwhelming thoughts of Logan that had been swirling in your mind. You closed your eyes, letting the droplets drip down your face, trying to steady your breathing and collect yourself. It was just a broken washing machine, just a neighbor doing a favor.

You swung open the fridge, your hand instinctively reaching for your favorite peach-flavored soda. The cool metal of the can felt reassuring against your palm as you pulled it from its place. With a satisfying hiss, you cracked it open, the sweet, fruity scent immediately filling the air.

Reaching for a tall glass, you filled it with ice, the cubes clinking softly as they settled. Then, you poured the bubbly soda over them, watching as the fizzy drink cascaded down, swirling and dancing around the ice. After inserting a straw into the glass, you carefully picked it up, the cool condensation forming on the outside of the glass. You took a deep breath, steadying yourself, and made your way back to where Logan was.

"Here you go," you announced, placing the glass on the nearby table. Logan turned his attention from the washing machine to you, his eyes briefly darting to the drink you’d set down. A smile curved on his lips, the warmth in his gaze making your heart skip a beat. “Thanks, Peach.”

“Ehe…” You offered a nervous smile in return, your cheeks heating up at the casual endearment. Trying to steady your fluttering nerves, you grabbed the straw and shoved it into your mouth with a little more force than intended. It was your way of silencing the awkwardness bubbling inside you, a desperate attempt to keep any embarrassing sounds from escaping.

“So, your dad’s going on a date later today, huh?” Logan’s voice was light, but he noticed the nervousness you were trying to mask. His intention was to ease the tension with casual conversation.

“Y-yeah, he’s working now, but that’s what I’ve heard,” you replied, nervously fiddling with the straw. You decided to sit on the edge of the table where Logan’s drink was, adjusting it carefully to avoid spills.

Logan glanced at you, then back at the washing machine, his smirk widening. “You okay with that?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” you responded, a bit defensively.

Logan chuckled softly, his eyes twinkling with curiosity. “From what I’ve heard, you’ve never been too thrilled about him dating. Is there something you’re not telling me?”

You hesitated for a moment, the weight of Logan’s question pressing on you. Taking a deep breath, you decided to let your guard down. “Well, it’s just… I’ve always felt like I have to compete for his attention. It’s silly, I know, but it’s hard when you’re used to being the center of someone’s world.”

Logan’s expression softened, and he gave you an understanding nod. The moment of connection hung between you as Logan turned his attention back to the washing machine. He worked with focused precision, his hands moving deftly as he made the final adjustments. The clinks and whirs of the machine were soon replaced by a steady, rhythmic hum.

“There we go,” Logan said with a satisfied grin, stepping back to admire his handiwork. The washing machine was back in action, its gentle whirl now a reassuring sound.

You let out a relieved sigh, watching the machine function smoothly. “Thank you so much, Mister Howlett. I really appreciate it.” you said, your gratitude sincere as you adjusted from your sitting position to stand up. You set down your now-empty glass on the table, the slight clink of the glass breaking the brief silence.

Hearing you address him as "Mister Howlett" sparked something within Logan—an unfamiliar, yet undeniable feeling. It was a sentiment he had been trying to avoid, one that stirred within him despite his best efforts to keep his distance. The formal address seemed to intensify the feelings he had been wrestling with, making them more pronounced.

You're not the only one who has a crush, he does too.

From the moment Logan had closed the trunk of his truck while moving into the neighborhood, you had been on his mind. He remembered the day vividly—watching you step out of your car in a beautiful white sundress that hugged your upper body and flowed gracefully. The way the dress accentuated your figure, combined with the ease of your movements, had captured his attention in a way he hadn’t anticipated. As you came knocking on his door with your dad beside you to welcome him into the neighborhood, those peach-flavored pie you brought had been lingering in his mind ever since. He wondered if you smell as good as that pie where he devoured in one full bite that night. And here you are, wearing the same white sundress that's gotten him obsessed with.

As Logan took a step forward, you instinctively stepped back, forgetting about the table behind you. Your hips brushed against it gently, causing a small jolt. Logan had intended to reach for the glass of your beverage, but his proximity brought him uncomfortably close.

With a casual yet deliberate movement, Logan took the glass from behind you, his body nearly brushing against yours. He lifted the glass in front of you, tilting his head slightly with a smirk. “Thanks, Peach,” he said, his voice low and warm.

Without breaking eye contact, he chugged down the drink, his gaze locked onto yours. The act was both confident and intimate, making the moment feel charged with unspoken tension. The shared space between you seemed to crackle with a newfound energy as you both stood there, the air thick with the lingering effects of the brief but intense connection.

You cleared your throat, feeling a flush of heat spread across your cheeks as you managed to wiggle your way out from the proximity of Logan. You made your way toward the washing machine, watching it work through the glass as your laundry tumbled inside.

“Tell me, Peach,” Logan’s voice came from behind, smooth and deliberate. “Is your taste as good as this peach soda?”

Your breath hitched, and your mind raced. Am I hearing this right? Is this a dream? You thought, trying to process his words. Despite the possibility of it being a dream, you couldn't bring yourself to face him. Instead, you leaned against the washing machine, the rhythmic vibrations grounding you.

“Um—W-what do you mean, s-sir?” you managed to stammer, your voice barely more than a whisper.

You could feel Logan’s presence closing in behind you, the air growing warmer and thicker as he approached. The vibrations from the washing machine seemed to pulse more intensely against your torso, amplifying the sensation of his proximity. Each step he took made your heartbeat quicken, your senses acutely aware of the space between you shrinking.

Logan’s shadow fell over you, and you could almost feel the heat radiating from his body. His breath, though not yet touching your skin, was close enough that you could sense its warmth. 

“You wanna know what ‘m thinking, Peach?” He mumbles behind your ear. You wished he didn’t hear your shuddered breath and the swallowed saliva down your throat from the way he makes you nervous.

“I don’t think so, Mister Howlett.” you managed to reply, your voice trembling slightly as you tried to maintain your composure.

“Naw, why? Afraid you might like it?” You could feel the smirk slowly forming in his face.

“I-”

“I’m thinking of bending you against this washing machine, lift up your very short sundress and get on my knees. Slowly taking my time smelling that scent… of arousal from your pussy, where I know, she’s dying to be touched, to be fingered, to be fucked, by me.” You gasp once you feel the bulge from his rough jeans, teasingly grinding against your ass earning a chuckle from him as he continues,

“Oh yes I know, Peach. I know how much you want to feel this cock inside you. Should’ve known better to close your blinds at night when your delicate… fingers desperately trying to reach that high, because I’m always watching you, Peach. Even though you’re such a pain in the ass with that, Peach flavored pie, and that fucking beautiful smile. I wanna turn those smiles into tears… Tears of pleasure from me, fucking this cunt.” You gasped loudly as Logan roughly thrust his bulge against your ass, hitting you against the washing machine.

“L-Logan,” you stammered, your voice trembling with a mix of nervousness and anticipation.

“Call me, Sir,” Logan’s tone was laced with full authority, each word deliberate and commanding. You choked back a swallow before you corrected yourself.

"Sir, I don't know what you're talking about." You stood on your ground.

"Yeah? Let me remind you how it feels then, this time, with me." Logan grunted in your ears before you felt a rush of cold air blowing against your damped panties resulted from Logan lifting your skirt up. You whimpered once you feel his fingers grazing against your soaking wet cunt, earning a mocking tut from Logan.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk... Your cunt says otherwise, Peach." He rubs you through the panties before ripping them off of you, the sound piercing through the room.

Logan crouched on his knees, proving his promise to you the one where he'd like to take his time smelling you from down your legs up to your thighs, dragging his warm tongue on your delicate skin upwards earning a moan from you. Logan hummed once he connected his lips to your glistening pussy lips, his tongue swirling and lapping your gushing juices.

You feel like god had just granted you your wishes into doing this sinful things. You finally can experience the feeling of his tongue against your throbbing cunt that keeps on gushing. Logan moaned, while he laps your juices up like a dog. "You taste just as I imagined, peach-flavored cunt." He murmured against your pussy.

A rosy hue crept across your cheeks hearing his statement. "Come on, Peach. Gimme more." Logan breathed out, his two hands that were gripping your thighs pushed and lifted you upward attempting you to bend over more over the top of the washing machine. Spreading your legs wide, you moaned out loud once you feel his tongue crazily lap your pussy like a dog in thirst.

"S-sir.." You squeaked, feeling yourself close.

"Hmm, yeah, give it to me, Peach." Logan grunted, burying his face even more.

"Ngh, I'm gonna-" Before you could finish that sentence, you froze as you heard your dad's voice calls out to you.

"Buttercup! I'm home, have you managed with the laundry yet?" He hollers from the other room. You gasped while Logan didn't even budge, he kept resuming his action.

"Y-yes, Dad! Everything's good now!" You holler back, holding yourself back from moaning.

"Do you need any help, darling?" You heard the sound of footstep, your eyes widened and hurriedly answer, "No- No, Dad! Everything's good, I'll be coming in a second." Logan smirked.

"Okay darling, I'm gonna get some rest." Your dad holler back as his footsteps fading away. You sighed in relief before you gasped when you feel Logan entering two fingers inside your cunt.

"What a naughty little girl, she needs to make herself cum before she gets back to being the dotting daughter huh?" You whimper to his words.

"Please, sir. Don't stop, it feels so good.."

"Yeah? Wait till you feel my cock." Logan vowed. He curled his fingers inside you, effortlessly flicking your g-spot before he stood back up on his feet, leaning against your back. He gently guide you to stand on your feet even though it's impossible for you as you're still in daze from his fingers still working their magic.

Logan whispered all kinds of filthy things in your head to get you to reach your high. "Is this just like what you imagined, peach?" — "Feels so good yeah?" — "Yes it does. Are you gonna cum for me?" — "Yeah come on, almost there, I know," — "Make a mess on my fingers, baby."

As you choked a loud moan, Logan's other hand went to silenced you while you came gushing down on his fingers. Your whole body shook while Logan holds you in place as you're coming down your high.

"There you go, good girl." You panted once you've gained your strength to stand on your own, you turned around and to find him smirking, a notable wet droplet covered some parts of his jeans as you now just learned, that you squirted on him a little.

He brought his fingers up to his mouth, his gaze never leaving yours as he tasted what's remained of you on his fingers.

"Hmm, taste just like a peach."

let me know if you want me to start the journey for Logan & Peach 😉

[harringtons-cupid]

~personal post ~

Most people will skim past this but those of you who care, I love you.

I have currently been writing part 8 of Peaches, those of you who have read it. Know that the character aka YOU are carrying Joes baby.

But, I have to let you know that it’s going to be taking a while for me to write and upload it. The subject of pregnancies and babies are a big aspect of my trauma, I have had to stop myself from reading breeding link fics because of it.

Those of you know why and those of you who don’t, well I lost a baby of mine last year in January and well I haven’t moved past it yet. I’m doing much better now but some days it hurts me so much.

People say, well why did you write it?? Maybe it’s a way of me to process my trauma in the least self destructive way I could think of.

Maybe I wrote it as a way of processing the fact that it could have be all mine but it wasn’t meant to be.

I have enjoyed writing peaches and will not stop any time soon, the process just might be alot longer. And I want to thank you for your patience.

[sualne]

front cover

[doublel27]

What am I supposed to do with the fact that Home moved Peach and Pang into the first (and only) property Home wanted for himself? What am I supposed to do with the fact he dreamed of filling it with friends so he wouldn’t be lonely?

What am I supposed to do with the fact that this place that has “reserved for Home” written by the bed where Peach and Pang sleep is the only place Peach feels the ghosts won’t find him?!

If not BL, why so BL shaped?!

[aprilblossomgirl]

By the way, about the true meaning of home your Gramps kept mentioning… Did you finally get your answer? To me, wherever feels like home is home.

PEACEFUL PROPERTY ON SALE (2024) F I N A L E

Director Dome Jarupat Kannula

[rayandgay]

peat x perla x

[danielsarmand]

Peaceful Property 1.07 | 1.10