#shoutout to big noses!!!

[fire-in-my-woods]

Lesbian ava truthers are probably the most insufferable part of the TWC fandom

[sematarygirls]

ohhhhh nooooooo i hope a man with gorgeous eyes and a big nose doesn't hit me uppppp. that would be soooooo unfortunate...

[andy-clutterbuck]

SDCC | 2016

[aroacedavestrider]

👃💛🌸💛🌸💛🌸💛🌸💛👃

actually ill make my own post. its time for some nose positivity

👃💛🌸💛🌸💛🌸💛🌸💛👃

reblog to stop the negativity toward diversity in noses and stop the (racist!) assumption that only small, thin, upturned noses are perfect

👃💯💯💯💯💯💯👃

affirmations for yall to repeat 👇

i have a nose that deserves love respect and positivity

my nose is amazing regardless of shape size width length or color

i do not need a small nose to be seen as beautiful, pretty, handsome, attractive, or worthy

i do not need a nose job to be seen as beautiful, pretty, handsome, attractive, or worthy

my nose is extremely beautiful. period

my nose is incredible because its unique

my nose is so cool that it can never be replicated even by a surgeon

my nose and its features are always deserving and worthy of compliments

i have the best nose in the world

i am blessed with the nose of my ancestors, my predecessors, my family members, my loved ones

a small thin “naturally fake” nose is way less common than i realize and it is normal and ok not to have one

my nose is beautiful and i am beyond societal beauty standards

i love my nose and i love my body and i love myself

i am more than just my nose and i deserve respect and love regardless of what i look like

dont forget that you deserve the world and diversity in noses is beautiful. you are worthy of representation you are worthy of positivity you are worthy of love and you are worthy of celebration

dont let people make you insecure about yourself. drink some water take care of yourself today

this post has been brought to you by the BIG NOSE GANG 👃‼️💯🔥💥

[frutavel]

This year, this guy is getting a much needed overhaul and update 💖

For those who don't know or don't remember my dark troll mage, his name is Vulto and he's part of the Darkmoon Faire's crew. Him and I went through a really rough patch a couole years ago that had me retiring him, but I still love this odd lil fella and I want to bring him back 💜

[absolsrenegade]

Can we see Absol pictures?

-@fox-poke-fanatic

abigail is a camera dodger, but i can occasionally get her to pose for a chicken nugget

and to answer some questions.

she is not fat. her father was a mighteyena, so her fur is quite voluminous

she is not "deformed", she just has a big ass snout because, again, papa was a mighteyena

i did not give her an emo flap. her hair grows like that

thats not an eyebrow, just a very coincidentally placed marking. she only has one on that side so she looks very goofy if you pull her fringe back

[yappacadaver]

You can’t make every feature big or none of them will be

[variksel]

some wips of a new ref for my boy miska from my comic (unfamiliar hours on webtoons and tapas xo) !! yall why is anatomy so hard. i hate it soooo much also old refs of him there 👇 xo hes been around for 4+ years now and he mightve not changed a lot but my style sure has !

[warriors-rewritten-chaos]

Detailed Rewrite Plot Summary- Forest of Secrets

Book Three is go! I think I’ll start just making the whole book one post instead of splitting it by halves.

In the prologue, a tom slowly trudges through a horrible snowstorm with two shivering kits in tow. The trek is quiet and somber, with no one talking. Lots of descriptors here, very atmospheric. The prologue bit ends with the tom walking into a camp and another tom approaching and saying “welcome back brother- who's kits are those?”

The book proper begins with Fireheart and Graystripe headed to the barn to visit Ravenpaw to ask them more questions about Tigerclaw and the deaths of Redtail and Thrushpelt. Ravenpaw reiterates that Tigerclaw was the one to kill Redtail, but also adds another detail about the battle that he only recently remembered: that Thrushpelt got into a bizarre altercation with two RiverClan Warriors during the battle. Apparently, Thrushpelt attempted to attack Stonefur, but backed up once he got close (maybe he recognized him from a Gathering, Fireheart wonders). Oakheart quickly got between them and drove Thrushpelt away, saying that no ThunderClan Warrior, especially Thrushpelt, would ever harm either of his kits.

Neither Ravenpaw, Graystripe, or Fireheart understand Oakheart and Thrushpelt’s odd behavior around Stonefur, so Fireheart and Graystripe decide to sneak over to RiverClan in order to find out. Silverstream is happy to help them out, and while Stonefur is too busy to speak with them, his littermate Mistyfoot is available and willing to talk. She confirms that Oakheart did die the way Ravenpaw says he did, but also has no explanation for what occurred between Thrushpelt, Oakheart, and Stonefur. As she takes her leave, she mutters about needing to talk to her brother about something...

Graystripe leaves and Fireheart begins to follow before an older molly steps out of the shadows, saying that she has heard everything. Fireheart panics a bit before she laughs and reassures him she won't tell on them. She introduces herself as Graypool. Fireheart remembers hearing that she was the honor-surrogate for Mistyfoot and Stonefur. He apologizes to her for Oakheart’s loss, and she reveals (unprompted) that Mistyfoot and Stonefur aren't biologically hers at all, and that Oakheart found them in the forest during a terrible blizzard and she agreed to care for them and lie about their origins when asked. She tells him that they smelled a bit like ThunderClan. Graypool then leaves... in the wrong direction and Fireheart awkwardly guides her back to the RiverClan camp.

Over time, Fireheart begins to break down due to being constantly pulled in many directions: he has to help Brindleface keep an eye on the constantly misbehaving Cloudkit, train both Cinderpaw and Brackenpaw, help keep Graystripe’s forbidden relationship hidden from everyone else, and investigate the many mysteries surrounding both Tigerclaw and Stonefur and Mistyfoot. Spottedleaf and Sandstorm help him out with a few of those things after they notice his stress and force ask him to tell them what's wrong, but it’s still a lot for one cat to handle. Then to top it all off, heavy rains combined with all the snow melting in Newleaf causes RiverClan and ShadowClan’s territories to flood. Bluestar sends some cats to check on the more heavily-effected RiverClan and it’s a good thing they did, because Fireheart, Graystripe, and the rest of the patrol manage to rescue Mistyfoot’s four kits and another kit from drowning in the floodwaters. 

As they leave after their daring rescue, Silverstream tells Fireheart and Graystripe that the floodwaters will make it dangerous and difficult for RiverClan to hunt and expresses concern that more of her Clanmates will die from starvation even after the devastation of the flood. Graystripe, ever the helper, enlists himself and Fireheart to sneak RiverClan prey when they can. Despite some reluctance, Fireheart agrees to help, having come to like Silverstream and even sort of understanding what Graystripe might see in her. They eventually get caught by Tigerclaw and get in trouble yet again, though (no good deed goes unpunished).

The next Gathering, an incensed Nightstar tells the other Clans that ThunderClan is sheltering Brokenstar, having somehow gotten that information. ShadowClan and WindClan are (rather understandably) outraged by this, and even RiverClan is like “what the hell, guys? you’re really sheltering the baby killer?” The Gathering quickly goes south (again), with both Nightstar and Tallstar declaring war on ThunderClan then and there, and Stormstar firmly stating that he and his Clan will be staying out of this mess. This Gathering ends early once again.

WindClan and ShadowClan mount a joint attack on ThunderClan but as they are both still weak they are quickly driven off. Luckily, there are no casualties from the battle. Graystripe discovers that Silverstream is pregnant, and even though Fireheart is still uncertain towards their relationship he shares in their joy. However, things go wrong during the kits’ birth, with Silverstream dying despite her Medicine Cat sister Breezepaw’s best efforts to save her. The kits are both born healthy though, and with her dying breaths Silverstream names them Featherkit and Willowkit. 

Breezepaw insists on taking her sister’s body and the kits back to RiverClan. Graystripe decides to come with and join RiverClan to raise his kits, as it would be what Silverstream would have wanted. A heartbroken Fireheart and Graystripe bid each other goodbye and head their separate ways. Fireheart returns to camp alone to Tigerclaw telling the entire Clan about Graystripe’s affair and that Fireheart knew and didn't tell anyone. This causes some discord, with cats now distrusting Fireheart for aiding in breaking the Warrior Code.

While Bluestar publicly assigns Fireheart a harsh punishment for his actions, she also privately confesses to him that Stonefur and Mistyfoot of RiverClan are her biological children and the result of a dalliance she had with the RiverClan Warrior Oakheart. They go on to say that they did it for the kits’ safety, as they feared the other candidate for the Deputy position would kill their kits.

Fireheart is given Cloudpaw as a second apprentice alongside Cinderpaw, as no other cat will accept him due to having been born a kittypet. One day when the three go on a hunting patrol, they witness Tigerclaw guiding a group of rogues to the ThunderClan camp with the intent to attack it. While the three desperately race to camp to warn of the incoming attack, they get there too late- the battle has already begun. During the fight, Cinderpaw utilizes the fighting techniques she learned from Nightoak to excellent effect and is able to hold her own until Mousefur, Runningwind, and Ashpaw come to her aid. This allows Fireheart to hurry to the Leader’s Den to prevent Tigerclaw from killing Bluestar.

Somehow, the rogues are driven away with only injuries and a single casualty for ThunderClan: Robinwing, who was a brave and fierce fighter till the bitter end. Brokentail is also revealed to have been in on the plot but Yellowfang takes him into the Medicine Den alone unnoticed while a shaken Bluestar informs the Clan of Tigerclaw’s betrayal via a Clan Meeting. When Tigerclaw tries to convince other cats to leave with him when he is exiled, it doesn't go so great. 

Darkstripe, coward that he is, declares that he’s still loyal to ThunderCan, but Fireheart still has a bad feeling about the tom even so. Tigerclaw’s older kits Swiftpaw and Lynxpaw physically recoil and hiss at their father to leave and never come back when he tries to convince the two of them to go with him. A horrified Longtail and angry Dustpelt threaten to skin him alive if they ever see him again, while Goldenflower has to be physically restrained from attempting to kill her former mate herself for his treachery while Bramblekit and Tawnykit cower in fear from the Nursery.

And so it is that Tigerclaw leaves ThunderClan by himself with no support, vowing to return and get revenge if it’s the last thing he ever does. Bluestar finishes the meeting without naming a successor for Deputy, and claws Longtail’s ear when he tries to remind her about the rule, telling him that she will be watching him very closely and calling him a traitor. Noticing that Yellowfang and Brokentail have disappeared, Fireheart and Spottedleaf sneak away from the confused and rattled crowd into the Medicine Den. And what they find there is Yellowfang calmly organizing herbs while Brokentail’s cooling body stares at nothing, the last of his lives spent and bloody foam still dripping from his lips. Not even turning around, Yellowfang offers an explanation consisting of one word: “deathberries”.

Fireheart is shocked by this development (even though Brokentail absolutely deserved it), but Spottedleaf just takes it all in stride and asks Yellowfang if she wants to tell the Clan that Brokentail has been “taken care of” or does she want them to say he died from battle injuries that hit him all at once. Yellowfang says to just bury him and she'll figure it out later. Fireheart leaves the Medicine Den even more confused than before, thinking about how awful and chaotic everything has been and hoping nothing else happens. Just then, a cat screeches from the direction of the fresh-kill pile and almost every mobile cat bolts to crowd around it. When Fireheart pushes his way through, he sees Bluestar with their fur standing on end and terror in their eyes as they stare down at a pigeon at their paws. 

The pigeon is both filled and covered in writhing maggots and reeks of rot and death. Bluestar lets out an absolutely bone-chilling howl before dashing into the Leader’s Den, her ever-dutiful nephew Whitestorm in hot pursuit. An anxious and impatient Smallears notes that it’s after moonhigh and no Deputy has been named, meaning that Bluestar has just broken the Warrior Code. Spottedleaf inspects the decaying pigeon and discovers that it was only recently killed, and should not be rotting like this. She deduces that this is a sign from StarClan that Bluestar’s leadership and ThunderClan itself may be rotting away from the inside.

A few moments later, a still shaking and wild-eyed Bluestar emerges from the Den, Whitestorm at their side letting them lean on him. Bluestar declares that Fireheart will be the new Deputy of ThunderClan before fleeing right back into the Leader’s Den while the Clan is in an uproar over this choice. The book ends with Fireheart’s confused and terrified thoughts about what’s happening.

[porcelain-rob0t]

if you talk shit about someone's nose, i will punch you in the face so hard your nose is going to shoot out the back of your head

[thekingofchungus]

big noses already look good. next post

[ovaryacted]

GUARD DOG

─ Logan Howlett/Wolverine x fem! reader || WC: 5.0k

SYNOPSIS: On another one of your joint club outings with Wade, your boyfriend Logan stands by to make sure you enjoy your night. Once you both arrive at your apartment, he tends to your needs and helps you relax.

CONTENT/WARNINGS: MDNI/18+. NSFW. SMUT. Established Relationship. Age gap implied [Logan is his canon age, Reader is mid to late 20's]. Alcohol consumption. Kissing. Unprotected P in V. Shower sex. Fingering (f receiving). Manhandling. Biting/Marking Kink. Size Kink if you squint. Mutual fantasies of public sex. Worst!/Variant! Logan Howlett. Grumpy! Logan in public, soft! Logan in private. Wade is the third wheel who drinks for fun but can't get drunk (obvi). Descriptions of the reader's clothing (mini skirt & skimpy top). Reader is shorter than Logan in heels. Logan can pick the reader up.

A/N: Lord this was a pain in the ass to write for absolutely no reason, but I am glad it's done. Big shoutouts and thank yous to @ozarkthedog and @pedgito for reading this over and encouraging me. And also thank you to @zloshy and @studioghibelli for holding my hand and helping me out with the brainstorming process. As always, likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated. Enjoy! <3

NAVIGATION | MASTERLIST | AO3

To this day, Logan doesn’t know why he still puts up with Wade’s shit or agrees to his antics. But he doesn’t mind doing it so long as it keeps his eccentric friend off his back and keeps you happy.

The club he was brought to was loud, the air thick with the pungent stench of weed, and he swears he could distinctly sniff out cocaine in the bathrooms, irritating his nose. Bright strobe lights strained his vision, and the obnoxious pop music vibrating through the walls was anything but pleasing to his sensitive ears. Thankfully, the bar had Jack Daniels on the shelf, enough to do the job and keep himself busy.

He raises his arm to lean against the bar, sipping away at his fourth cup of whiskey, knowing that the buzz he feels will go away as quickly as it hits him. Adept eyes scanned the club, landing on your figure as you danced to the current song.

Logan admired the sway of your hips, the mini skirt you wore riding up your thighs with every pop and swivel. The low-cut top you paired it with shifted when your arms rose to the beat change, the open back showing more than enough skin to leave to the imagination. He could taste the light sheen of sweat from your neck at a distance, amplifying your natural pheromones that elevated the perfume you sprayed on earlier.

He did what he did best. He watched. Even with his dominating presence, he was hyper-aware of the other men who stood by prowling like hawks, stalking their prey and waiting for the best moment to attack. Wade was enough to keep you safe during your joint club outings, but now that he was with you, Logan ensured you made it home every night.

You were smart and vigilant, always were before you met him. But Logan was familiar with the instinctive behavior of men, especially men like him. Ill-tempered. Selfish. Prone to arguments and have an affinity to attract trouble. He knows what they were all thinking, creating mental checklists of what tricks they’d use to guarantee you went home with them instead. Countless fantasies of their hands feeling you up, touching you in ways that Logan was allowed to, in a way only he could.

His heart thumped in his ribs at the thought. The innate possession he felt towards you flared as he impatiently wiped his hand over the dark denim of his jeans, ignoring the growing itch to claw the next fucker that thought about coming within six feet of you.

You could hold your own; you’ve told him more than enough times that he didn’t need to stand by and monitor your every move. Yet he does it without hesitation, refusing to give anyone else a chance to breathe you in or get close enough to touch what was his. 

Wade waltzes to the bar and orders another martini, glancing at Logan and contorting his neck to peek at you dancing with a blissful smile.

“Having fun, Wolvie?” he asks, grin widening as his lips envelop the thin straw in his drink, slurping it up like a refreshing cup of water. 

“You know the answer to that,” Logan mutters, finishing the rest of his amber liquid in one gulp before tapping the cup on the bar countertop and asking for a refill. The bartender flashes him a look of concern, receiving a flick of Wade’s hand and topping off the glass.

“You’re five drinks in. Quit being so fucking grumpy,” Wade sneers, detecting someone walking in their direction. “Now flip that frown upside down, Logie bear. Our girl is coming over, and I don’t need you getting your panties in a twist because you’re moody.”

Logan rolled his eyes before spotting you striding to him, standing in front of the burly man with a hazy smile. He noticed the multitude of heads that turned to follow your direction, tracking you with every step you took toward the deviant pair. A low whistle seized his attention, Logan’s head rapidly spun at the sound to find its source and nip it in the bud. The growl settling in the back of his throat simmered down once your soft hand touched his chest, grounding him to you.

“Hey, old man.” Even in heels, you still couldn’t reach him face-to-face, smirking when his thick arm wrapped around your waist to bring you closer. “Enjoyed the show?”

“The music in here fucking sucks, but I can’t complain too much,” Logan’s lips hovered over the shell of your ear, lowering his voice as he spoke. “You were my favorite part.”

“Oh, you weren’t looking at the girl in the cocktail dress? I don’t know, her dress was real short.” The corner of his mouth curled up, challenging your statement that feigned any truth. Giggling, you clutched his bicep, the alcohol loosening your tongue to speak more bluntly. You pivoted to spot Wade, who watched you both from afar in animated shock.

“Problem?”

“Sorry, honey. I just can’t stand seeing the two of you be all touchy-feely in front of me. It’s very disturbing.” Wade finished his martini, ordering a margarita and explicitly asking for a tiny umbrella. “I hate that you took my spot. Creeping in like a slut into a happy home and snatching my man away.”

Ever since Wade had introduced you to Logan almost a year ago, it had been an instant connection he got front-row seats to witness. He was excited when he finally compelled Logan to go to the club you both frequented, recalling how he raked his eyes over you when you weren’t looking. It was only a matter of time before you left the club with Logan one night, and Wade met him at the front door the following day like a disappointed parent acknowledging his walk of shame. 

All jokes aside, considering the pair he just unleashed into the world, he would believe himself to be the city’s most qualified and successful cupid.

“Can’t call me a homewrecker if there was no home to wreck, sweetie,” you shrugged, hearing Logan’s dry chuckle.

“Sure, whatever. But you should be thanking me, you know? You get to have those big, meaty hands on you all the time. Not to mention you get to fuck him and actually see his d-”

“Wilson.” Logan’s voice cut him off, causing Wade to murmur under his breath. You fronted the brunette, messing with the collar of his leather jacket.

“Don’t be mean to him. He’s right. I do have the happy privilege of fucking you all the time.” Your glossy lips hypnotized Logan, his hand kneading your rear as he caught your breathless laugh again. He’ll never fully admit it, but he’s always loved your lack of filter when you had a little bit to drink. You were funny and engaging without needing the extra boost, but something about you being openly vulgar made his blood flow south.

“That you do.” His ego blazes inside him, leaning forward to kiss you in the club for the first time that night.

You happily accepted it with a pleased hum, tasting the Jack he’d been drinking and exchanging the flavor of vodka still on your tongue. Your fingers clutched at his jacket, body pulsing with need as the alcohol in your system beelined straight to your clit. Audible gagging noises pushed you to draw away from Logan, your drunken sight landing on the culprit.

“Oh, am I interrupting you guys? I told you to give me a PDA warning next time before you start getting freaky, otherwise I’m joining,” Wade taunted, getting a scoff from you and an irritated grunt from his friend.

“How about we share another drink? Will you forgive me then, Wadey?” You flapped your lashes at him, his wrinkly skin creasing to mimic your gleeful appearance.

“Fine, but only because you know how to sweet talk me. Tequila?” Your optimistic nod motivated him to order another round of shots for the two of you to down. You felt a gentle squeeze on your arm, meeting Logan’s gaze and silent questioning. Can you handle drinking more?

“Just a few more, and we’ll go, okay?” You stroked his chin, kissing the corner of his jaw in reassurance. He asked to test your senses, only intervening to stop if you were too far gone to speak to him. Unlike him, he wants you to keep your liver intact.

“Alright. But the second he starts offering you shit to snort, we’re leaving.”

“I would do no such thing!” Wade dramatically reacts, offering two tequila shots while holding some of his own. “Besides, I don’t need our precious darling over here fucking up her pretty nose. She needs that thing to smell your bullshit from a mile away.”

With another laugh, you swallowed the shot of clear liquid, inhaling a hiss and consuming the next, sucking on the lime to reset your tastebuds. Your body warmed with a buzz from the drink, an electric shock coursing through your veins as it roused you. 

“C’mon, sugarplum, you owe me a dance.” You didn’t have time to waste as Wade dragged you to the dance floor, throwing Logan a flirty wave and joining your mutual friend. The Wolverine returned to his position, manning his post and sipping on the remaining liquid in his glass. He kept tallies on the wandering eyes that gravitate to you, fighting the urge to rip out every single one.

He’ll keep the peace for your sake. You were already his, you’ve been his ever since you took him home and made him stay the night. What more did he have to prove?

It was nearing two in the morning when you finally decided to call it a night. By now, the heels on your feet started slipping, and your footing grew unsteady when you attempted to walk to the bathroom. You held your bearings long enough for Logan to call a cab home after buying some greasy food for you to eat, shooing Wade once he said he was stopping by Vanessa’s.

Logan’s touch was constant the entire way home, skimming your thigh and lower back in the cab, responding to every one of your little mumbles to keep you awake until you arrived at your apartment. Getting you out of the backseat was another hassle he was familiar with, aiding you to stand up straight without accidentally exposing yourself. The best solution he came up with was carrying you inside, wrapping your arms and legs around him as he held you steady and trekked inside the apartment complex.

He didn’t mind the faint squeezes of your arms or the clenches of your thighs around his waist. You were calm, safe, and happy, mindlessly humming in the crook of his neck as he eased his way through the front door. Strong arms entrapped you as the familiar walls of your bedroom filled your vision, Logan placing you on the edge of your bed with a huff of breath.

“I’m gonna get you a cup of water. Alright?” Logan’s hazel eyes met yours, taking in your feeble nod.

“Okay,” voice light and airy, you patiently waited for Logan to return as promised. Within a minute, he had a tall glass of cold water in his hand, a few ice cubes floating at the top.

“Open up. Need you to drink some of this for me.” Heeding his command, you sipped the refreshing beverage, soothing your parched throat. You got halfway down the glass before he drew the cup away, placing it on the bedside table for later.

“Let’s get these heels off now,” Logan suggested next, descending to his knees and bending his leg to raise your foot on his thigh, messing with the straps tied to your ankles.

“Yes, please. They’re fucking killing me.”

He chuckled as you wiggled your foot at him, allowing his thick fingers to unclasp the buckle that held your heels together. Peeling one of the shoes off and dropping it to the floor, he loosened the other, the heel falling to the ground with an audible thud.

Strong hands held your right foot by the ankle and gently twisted it, stretching the tendon after a long night out and doing the same to the left. You whizzed contently at the touch, the devoted rubs of his thumbs and forefingers massaging your feet after hours of dancing never failed to make you feel better. Before you started dating him, you underestimated Logan’s capacity to be affectionate, but he eventually got the hang of things once your relationship grew more steady. 

Sure, he had been alive a long time, you got that warning from Wade prior to meeting Logan. But once you cracked through that tough exterior, you developed a soft spot for the man buried under all that trauma.

“Always so nice to me yet grumpy with everyone else,” you said, running a hand through his hair as he stayed on his knees.

“You’re saying you don’t like special treatment?” he teased, the look in his eye heating your belly. He caressed your shin, drawing circles over your skin as you watched him.

“Never said that. Like it too much sometimes,” he stood up, kissing the top of your head and walking to the bathroom to wash his hands.

“Let’s take those clothes off and get you in something less skimpy.”

“Already? You didn’t tell me anything about my skimpy outfit. Thought you liked it…” you feigned a pout, and Logan raised a curious eyebrow.

“You look good, you always do. I told you that before we left.” He loomed over you, a shiver rushing down your spine when his musk surrounded you. His hands were at either side of your hips, palms resting on the mattress as he observed you.

“I like it when you get all dolled up for me.” One of his knuckles moved to graze your bare forearm, the hair on your skin rising from the goosebumps that followed. “Hate that everyone else gets to look, though.”

“You did good tonight. Didn’t claw anybody in the ribs.” You were only half joking, but you knew it wasn’t such a farfetched idea for him to do just that. All it took was one guy to come too close, and Logan’s knuckles were splitting to unsheath the blades embedded between them.

“Trust me, I was thinking it.”

“I know you were. Still happy you didn’t, so thank you for that.” You held his cheek and tenderly kissed him. “Now take my clothes off.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Logan tugged your mini skirt down your legs, tossing it to the floor. Your top was next, lifting your arms so he could pull it up from your torso, leaving your top half bare. He leaned back to take you in, raking his eyes over your uncovered figure. You were only clad in the lace black thong he noticed earlier when you were getting dressed, the thin piece of fabric doing nothing to conceal what he knew lay underneath.

“You’re staring again.” Your voice brought him to reality, a dry hum being his response.

“You don’t usually complain when I do,” he noted, growing more cocky at the uptick of the subdued tension between you.

“Because I like it when you look at me, smartass.” You held him by the fabric of the white tee hiding under his jacket, hands roaming over the expanse of his chest and stomach, messing with the metal of his belt buckle.

“Seems like you want something…” Logan hungrily watched as your legs spread wider to accommodate for his thicker ones between them, lingering to pounce on you.

“Want you to fuck me.” A rich groan tumbled out of Logan when you yanked him down for a kiss, chasing his tongue with your own and biting his bottom lip. His large hands skate over your thighs, textured fingers pinching your hip to keep you in place. Pulling his head away, he exhaled out of his nose, lightly grazing the tip of it against yours.

“Not until we shower. You smell like Wade and tequila.” He walked to the bathroom and turned on the shower, messing with the knobs to get the searing temperature you liked and coming to capture your dumbfounded expression.

“Are you fucking serious?” You shouldn’t be surprised. Though you think he was just finding more ways to get you to sober up.

“Very. I don’t need you smelling like him in bed. I want you to smell like you.”

Rising to your feet, you entered the bathroom and bent down to peel your thong off. Holding the last piece of clothing by the tip of your finger, you flung it to Logan, swaying your hips with an added flare as you stepped under the showerhead. The steaming water hit your aching body, comforting your sore legs from standing on an arch for so long. 

You heard shuffling from the other side of the glass barrier, enjoying the feel of the scalding spray as burly arms encircled your midriff, holding you loosely by the waist. Turning to face Logan, he eyed you with a softness reserved only when you were alone, your love worming its way into his cold heart and chipping away at the frozen bits and pieces over time.

“I’m surprised you haven’t melted yet from how hot this water is,” Logan jested, pressing yourself closer and gliding your fingers over his torso.

“You’ll get used to it,” you brushed his comment off, his rough fingertips coasting down your back, much softer than how he handled you in the club. “You’re the one that likes showering with me anyway.”

“Course I do, but I’ll never know how you tolerate this. You sure you aren’t the mutant here?” You lightly slapped his sternum, petting his skin with a shake of your head.

Logan maintained the scorching temperature of the shower stream as he held your chin with his forefinger and thumb, bending forward to kiss you, slow and passionate as it always was. You reached for his broad shoulders, opening your mouth to welcome his tongue, the muscle curling around yours with ease.

Maneuvering to pin you to the tiled wall, your hands ran up to the nape of his neck, driving your fingers through his wet hair as you sought more of his touch. Logan parted from you, leaving a trail of kisses along your jaw and neck, biting at the skin. Your breathing grew more sporadic, desire surging through you and flourishing between your thighs.

“Logan, please,” you were already begging for more, and he hadn’t done anything prevalent yet. Even with the alcohol slowly ebbing away, your arousal intensified, and a desperate craving for his attention overwhelmed you.

“What do you need? Tell me, sweetheart,” he commanded, his tongue rolling down to your clavicle, sucking a mark into the side of your neck for you to uncover in the morning.

“Need you to touch me.” Unabashedly, you took one of his hands by the wrist, spreading your thighs to position it where you needed him most. His fingers quickly found your pussy, drenched and crying out for his touch. The tips of his pointer and middle fingers drifted up to your sensitive nub, twitching under the initial rubs he delivered.

“Yeah? Need me to make you feel good, sugar?” Logan’s ego continued to ascend as he observed the expressions on your face, your eyebrows furrowing when his digits plunged into your aching hole.

“Been like this for a while, hm?” The smooth timbre of his voice spurred you on, directing his free hand to hold the bottom of your thigh, raising it to his hip and keeping it in place.

“Since you kissed me in the club.” Your confession fell over his lips, nails digging into his shoulder blades, leaving crescent indents in their wake. “Wanted you to fuck me in the bathroom.”

A deep moan rumbled in Logan’s chest at your words, crooking his fingers into that spot tucked at the roof of your entrance. You whined loudly at the touch, tossing your head back against the tile behind you and clenching hard around his thick digits.

“Next time. All you gotta do is bring me there, and I’ll fuck you over the sink.”

You couldn’t help but envision what it would be like to follow through on Logan’s proposal. How he’d pursue the imprint of your natural scent, mixing in with the aroma of your perfume that emanated off of you in waves. His lips would make a path over your shoulder and neck, leaving teeth marks for the club members to see after he was done with you. His fingers would wrap around your throat as he fucked you against the counter of the bathroom sink, forcing you to look at your reflection as you took him from behind.

Mascara streaked down your cheeks in dark smudges, your lip gloss fading and leaving a ring on the base of his cock from when you sucked him off, his cum dribbling down your thighs while he grabs your torn underwear and stuffs them into his pocket. And once you’ve both had your fun, you’d take his hand and stroll out of the bathroom with a smile, proudly flaunting Logan’s claim for everyone to acknowledge who you belonged to.

He was focused on the dives of his fingers inside your cunt, concentrated pulses to your g-spot and sneakily adding his thumb to the mix to press into your clit. Your half-lidded eyes glanced at him, the tell-tale signs of your upcoming orgasm creeping up and building in your gut. Logan could sense it too, the increase in your heart rate and the pulsing of your walls signaled that you were getting close, desperately seeking that release he could give you.

“I know you’re close.” He picked up the pace of his fingers, punctuating his thrusts to work in a third digit to stretch you out properly, the circles on your bundle of nerves becoming relentless. “Come for me, darlin’. C’mon, let me feel it.”

Trained like a dog to obey his command, your climax hit you with force, the strained rope of tension snapping and shooting relief up your spine. Gripping at the nape of his neck, the moan you emitted resounded through the bathroom as your thighs quivered from Logan’s ministrations. The slick walls of your pussy convulsed around him, giving you a few more pumps with his fingers before he took them out, watching in a daze as he licked them to taste your slick with a satisfied grumble.

“Always taste so damn sweet,” Logan remarked, letting you taste yourself on his tongue with another kiss. The hard length of his cock twitched over your lower belly, the ache of being empty overwhelming your senses.

“You can take a little more right, princess?” It was a genuine question, analyzing your energy levels after a long night out. But you craved to feel Logan the best way you knew how, nodding your head at the thought of feeling him deep inside where he belonged.

“Want you, please,” you implored, large hands grabbing the underside of your thighs to lift you from the ground, Logan’s strong hold keeping you upright on the wall. The tip of his cock bumped against your opening, your arms wrapping around his neck as he positioned himself.

“Hold on to me.” You did as he said, mewling in pleasure as he sank into your waiting cunt.

You welcomed him without resistance, his legs and forearms flexing to hold you up as he drove his hips forward until he was down to the hilt. A whimper wormed its way out of your mouth once Logan was tucked snug inside you, the tip of him hitting depths only he could reach. Your eyes fluttered closed at the feel of him, legs wound tighter as you adjusted to him.

“That’s it. Exactly where I’m supposed to be,” Logan confirmed with a grin, pressing his forehead to yours and breathing you in. He concentrated on the way your wet heat enveloped him so well, pussy molded to take him like that was your purpose.

Leaning more into your embrace, he began to move, shifting his hips to dive into you just the way you liked. Deep and even thrusts sent you reeling into ecstasy, your toes coiling as he persisted in his consistent pistoning.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you cried out at his movements, the upright position Logan had you in propelled the tip of his cock to hit the roof of your entrance with rehearsed accuracy. Your clit came in contact with the hair at the base of his length, the delicious friction adding to the amplified sensations.

“Feel so good. Fucking warm and wet. Shit.” He rambled against your throat, both of his big hands cupping your ass and keeping you secure as he fucked up into you.

Logan used his strength to bounce you on top of him in time with his jabs, heavy balls smacking into you as he picked up the pace and chased his release. You tightened again, nails biting into the taut skin of his shoulders and raking down, drawing a noisy groan out of the man from the pain. His skin reddened with the streaks you left behind, mending together as his regenerative powers healed him in seconds, removing any evidence of your marks.

“Logan, need it, need you. Please.” He understood what you were asking for, the pounding of his hips getting sloppier on your instruction. “Want you to fill me up…”

“Cum again for me and I will. Fill your pussy up the way you need.”

He wasn’t asking. Your deft fingers went up to his hair and gave him a harsh yank, sinking your teeth into his bottom lip, meshing your mouth with his. Logan panted a breath and followed with a hiss at the slight ache, the urge to fill you up awakening the most primal parts of him.

Your climax washed over you abruptly, mouth positioned in a silent scream as you unravel underneath Logan. He whispered words of praise in your ear, prolonging your orgasm for as long as he could. Your walls flexed and spasmed around him, soft cries morphing into helpless whimpers with every fierce buck of his wide hips. Molten pleasure surged down his back, and his hands sought purchase on your body, squeezing hard enough to bruise. 

“Fuck,” Logan rasped into your skin, stifling his growl with a sharp bite to your neck. The blunt ends of his teeth dug into you, hard enough to tear at your flesh that bloomed into bright red and will fade to purple.

With a few more lunges, he burrowed himself deep inside, painting your walls with his spend and claiming you like he always has. Your legs tensed around his abdomen, making sure to keep him safely tucked and not let a single drop go to waste. You slumped against him, head lolling forward to rest on his shoulder as he littered soft kisses over the marks he left behind in a muted apology. 

“Better now?” he asked, carefully bringing you to stand on the ground, keeping his hold on your hips in case your wobbly legs gave out.

“Mhm. Much better.” You nodded, offering him a kiss and enjoying the aftermath of your respective highs. The carnal appetite you felt earlier dimmed down to manageable levels now that you got what you wanted.

“Good,” Logan reciprocated your delicate kisses, doing what he could to calm and prep you for bed. He knows you could theoretically go for another round, but your exhaustion was palpable. He’d have to make up for it in the morning.

He took your loofah and body wash, pouring the liquid over the net fabric and scrubbing at your figure. He washed you meticulously, rinsing off the suds, and you returned the favor by cleansing him too. Your scents interlaced together as you washed each other, a smile sneaking up on Logan’s face at the realization.

After the shower, Logan did the honors of drying you off, rubbing you down with lotion, and grabbing a baggy dark T-shirt to dress you in. You brushed your teeth as he searched for his sweatpants, alternating between using the sink until you were both ready to end your night.

You eased into the mattress first, tugging the duvet to the side for Logan to follow you and lay on his back. Instinctively, you cuddled into his side once he made room for you, throwing an arm across his chest and lifting your leg to bend comfortably over his thigh.

“You’re gonna make me breakfast, right?” you questioned sleepily over his shoulder, familiar with the post-coitus routine he established in your relationship. In a few hours, you’ll find him making pancakes in the kitchen, or he’ll be under the sheets between your legs again. Either way, it’ll be a good start to your day so long as he’s the first thing you see when the sun beams through the bedroom window.

“I’ll think about it.” Jabbing at his ribs in mock retaliation, you closed your eyes and listened to the distant sounds of the city filling the room, soothing you to sleep.

“Love you, baby. “ You’ll doze off before you hear his reply, nuzzling into his body and chasing the stability and comfort of your personal weighted blanket and heater.

He waited until your breathing evened out and your heart rate leveled, beating on par with his. Giving you a side glance, you were fast asleep, embracing Logan like a teddy bear. Pressing one final kiss to your forehead, he watched you sleep for a while longer, stroking your backbone and holding you close.

“Love you too, sweetheart.”

©️ ovaryacted 2024. Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI. Support your fellow creators by reblogging, commenting, and liking!

Dividers by @saradika-graphics.

[andy-clutterbuck]

The Hollywood Reporter | 2018

[sweetpascal]

" someplace nice "

summary: when simon finally comes back home from deployment, he makes sure he spoils you in the best way possible. *wink wink*

warnings: cursing, teasing touches, husband!simon needs a warning of its own UGH, filthy car sex, messy pussy eating, wet noises, missonaryyy, filthy nasty dirty talk, we already know simon has the mouth of a sailor hehe

wc: 2.8k

notes: first of all, i wanna give a big big big shoutout to @suimon because without her AMAZING FUCKING PHENOMENAL works of art, i wouldn't have gotten out of my writing funk and they truly have inspired me 🫶🏼 second of all, i was on twitter and came across this spicy video and it basically helped me create whatever this is 😭 enjoy !

.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・

it wasn’t that you didn’t want to go out tonight. in fact, you’re ecstatic to go out with your husband. it’s only been two days since simon has been back from being deployed for almost one month. he had spent the two days sleeping and getting up to eat when it’s necessary, only to go back to sleeping. you didn’t care about that. you were just happy that he was back home. safe. alive. on the third day, he surprises you with a bouquet of your favorite flowers.

“we’re going out t’night,” he tells you, eyes all soft with a barely there smile on his lips when you go nose deep into the flowers and sniffing deeply with a pleased smile on your face. “i won’t tell you where. but it’s gonna be a nice place.”

that night, you got ready with nervous butterflies bubbling in the pit of your stomach. it had been so long since you and simon have been out on a date night. with his deployments and your full-time job, having time for yourselves, let alone as a couple was a rarity these days.

you sprayed yourself with simon’s favorite perfume of yours and did a once over in the mirror. your hair looked beautiful, your makeup was on point, your outfit wasn’t too flashy nor too casual - it was a body hugging dress with thin straps and tasteful cleavage and some wedged heels. as you walked downstairs, you saw simon waiting for you at the bottom with his keys in hand. he was dressed so nicely and the color of his dress shirt matched your dress. with tight fitting slacks and his ‘going out’ boots, you knew you’d be staring at him all night long. your cheeks warmed when you caught his gaze. his lips had parted and you could’ve sworn his eyes sparkled. although your heels added a few inches to your height, it was still nothing compared to simon. he still stood above you, two and a half heads taller.

“so.. how do i look?”

he didn’t like how hesitant you sounded. with a slow step forward, his finger hooked under your chin to lift your head up. god, the smell of him was mouth watering. you’re on your ovulating schedule so his natural musk combined with his cologne was like sinking your teeth into the tenderest meat there is. you nearly moaned. nearly.

“you look.. almost as beautiful as the day i met you,” he told you, so genuine, so soft, and so in love.

“almost?” you giggled and caught him off guard by pulling him down and clumsily kissing his chin instead of his lips.

“mhm,” he grumbled and led the way outside to his suv.

dinner went smoothly. simon had taken you both to a nice little italian restaurant downtown. it was the perfect place for a romantic night. the tables were dimly lit with candles and fresh flowers. he did everything a gentleman should do. pulling your chair out, knowing your favorite dish and ordering it for you, getting you your own dessert, paying. but the night still had a salacious vibe to it. for some reason, simon just couldn’t keep his hands to himself. his hand kept brushing up on your thigh, subtly hiking your dress up to feel your skin under his fingertips. you had to quietly scold him as the restaurant was nowhere near empty and your table wasn’t secluded from wandering eyes.

“can’t help it,” he told you in your ear, his voice all low and gruff and husky in a way that always had you tingling. “my wife s’just so fuckin’ gorgeous to look at.” and with that, he left a warm kiss under your earlobe, knowing exactly that was the spot he knew makes you whimper. and you did. only loud enough for him to her.

during the car ride home, it began to rain. it was damn near impossible to drive with the way the rain pelted hard and fast onto the windshield and roof. simon cursed under his breath, the hand resting on your thigh tightening for a brief second. you swallowed down a soft moan as it got lodged in the back of your throat. but simon, having the ears of a true soldier, heard it. he fucking hears everything. you hated and loved it simultaneously.

breaking free from your thoughts, the car swerves to the side to go down an empty road leading to an abandoned part. it was the only place farthest from town. no busy streets. no houses. no stores. it was deserted.

“si?” you were getting confused when he put the car into park and turned the ignition off. he turns on the top light and then turns to you. you expected him to give you a kiss with how he’s leaning over the console, but instead he reaches under your passenger seat, pulls the lever, and forcefully slides your seat further back so it puts a big amount of space between you and the dashboard. “simon?!”

“gimme a minute,” was all he says before getting out of the car and getting wet from the rain.

the door slams shut and you’re twisting and turning in your seat. it was pitch black outside with no streetlights, no house lights, no nothing. your side door is yanked open and simon hops in, slamming it shut and locking it after. he’s on his knees in front of you in the passenger side as you’re still in the seat, dumbfounded. he starts to unbutton his dress shirt as he stares down at you. the dim light in the car casts shadows on his face and he looks so fucking good.

your breathing starts picking up as he kneels before you shirtless. he then starts to unstrap your wedged heels, carelessly throwing them into the backseat. you finally let out a moan when he grabs your hips and forces you to slide down your seat and your thighs fall open.

“fuck, you smell so good,” simon grunts and buries his face between your thighs to mouth and nose at your covered cunt. he licks and sucks through the fabric, further getting it wet with his saliva. “taste like fuckin’ heaven.” he’s quick to slide your panties down and hoists your dress up to pool around your hips, fully exposing your bare cunt to his eyes and his eyes only.

“s-simon,” you whimper softly, eyebrows drawn and lips parted. the ache in your core began to hurt. your hips bucked and your thighs twitched. you didn’t know what you wanted. his hot, messy tongue. his long, powerful fingers. or his thick, hard cock. all you can utter is, “please.” please, anything.

immediately, he bows his head and licks a hot stripe from asshole to clit. he focuses more on your clit. he widens his tongue and uses his big hands to hook underneath your knees to press them into your chest. the wet slurps and hot puffs of air all over your messy pussy has you keening with uncontrollable twitches.

“ooh fuck, fuck, oh my god!” you grab onto his wide wrists, manicured nails digging into the skin for some stability. “fuck me. please, fuck me!”

when your voice gets all high pitched and whiny, simon knows it’s go-time. with one hand reaching down to expertly unbutton and slide down his slacks, he uses his other hand to spread your thighs open. your right foot rests on the window ledge. with the dim lighting and the rain pattering on the car roof, everything about this was romantic. simon lowers his head and gives your lips messy, hard kisses. all tongue. all teeth. heavy breathing and hushed moans. you tasted your slick and a hint of wine on his tongue. if that wasn’t the perfect combination, you didn’t know what was.

“you ready f’me?” his voice is so gruff and thick with lust. he taps the head of his leaking cock on your messy cunt. the lewd noises made you want to cover your face from embarrassment of how wet you are. “hm? ‘s this little cunt ready f’me to fuck her?” god, the things he says would be enough to make a deaf nun cry. but you didn’t care. you ached for him, everywhere.

“plea-please, si,” you weakly whimpered. your body was on fire and you were close to tears. wetness made your lashes clump and you sniffled softly. “need you. need it bad. need you.”

he tuts. he actually tuts. and the condescending smile he sends you makes you all the more embarrassed as your cunt leaked even more slick. “poor angel,” he croons and grins wolfishly. “poor, poor baby.”

and then finally, finally, he dips the head inside your pathetic little hole. and inch by inch, he slides in and then slides back out. he slides in again a little more and slides out again. the teasing torture was enough to make you start crying. simon’s arms wrapped around your trembling frame and he allows you to bury your face in his bare shoulders. you’re hugging his big, beefy body to yourself, your hands desperately holding onto his sides.

“i-i can’t ta-take it! fuck me, please, please, simon, please.” you’re babbling incoherently, sobbing softly into his skin and curling your toes as he grinds his cock up and down your cunt before finally sliding all the way in.

“there we go,” he coos in your ear. “there’s my girl.”

almost instantly, the sobbing stops and is replaced with garbled moans and punched gasps. your lips are open on his shoulder and drool slowly begins to seep out. you hug him closer as warmth explodes throughout your entire body from the top of your head to the tips of your toes.

“‘m y’girl,” you can barely form a coherent sentence.

“that’s right,” simon huffs, now starting to work his hips faster against yours. “my good girl.”

his hips smack into yours, his thickness filling you repeatedly. over and over and over again. the lewd wet noises of your slick leaking onto his balls and maybe his thighs has your cheeks flaming up. simon pounds into you, forcing every moan out of your chest and spilling from your lips, no matter how bad you wanted to quiet them as you two were still in the car and anybody could pull up. everything felt so good. he starts speeding up his thrusts, now pounding into you at an alarming speed and causing you to scream hoarsely in the small space. and then he slows to a grinding halt.

“mm, mm, mm,” you whimpered in his shoulder, tears freely sliding down your cheeks from the excessive pleasure you're receiving with little kisses of pain.

simon hears your reaction and does it again, this time creating a rhythm. he’ll fuck into you at a high speed and then slow down. he feels your tits bouncing against his chest and the way your swollen clit is continuously bumping against his pelvis.

“yeah,” he grunts in your ear, tightening his arms around your non-stop shaking body. “fuckin’ take my fuckin’ cock.”

your eyes slowly cross as he slows again, only fucking you with deep, slow, grinding thrusts. you’re 100% sure you’re leaking onto the seat right now. you wouldn’t be surprised if you were. simon’s cock was heaven and hell. you were obsessed. addicted, even. it look a lot of practice for you to take every inch in the early stages of your relationship. he made sure to take his time training your cunt into swallowing his hardness. simon pulled up just enough to capture your lips in a hot, messy kiss. he grinds deep inside, the tip of his cock nudging your cervix deliciously. your hands desperately grasped the sides of his face, your tongue sloppily entering his mouth and circling around his.

“can’t get ‘nough of you” simon grumbles. he keeps kissing and kissing as he grinds his hips in slow, deep circles. “my wife is jus’ so fuckin’ needy, eh?” the subtle cockiness in his tone had your pussy clenching. he grins at that and pistons his hips, fast and hard and unrelenting.

“ah! ah! ah! aaah!” you squealed and scratched down his back. you’ve been on edge for however long. time was nonexistent and this was torture. you needed that final nudge. a certain thing that helped the rollercoaster of euphoria finally crash down from the tip of the hill. “n-need.. cum. need.. n-need to cu-um!” god, you probably sounded so pathetic.

simon grunts every time he delivers hard thrusts that would’ve made your entire body slide up the seat if it weren’t for his arms wrapped around you. your thighs twitched non-stop. your toes curled and repeatedly thumped against the window. clinging onto your husband, your moans start getting more high pitched and drawn out as you got closer and closer, but simon knew what you needed. he always knew what you need. he pulls back enough to direct his attention to your neglected clit, so puffy and swollen and glistening in your slick from having no attention paid to it. simon slows his hips again and grinds to a slow halt once more. his cock throbs as your walls twitched and tightened around him, eagerly sucking him deeper.

“you poor, poor girl,” he tuts, splaying a large hand over your tummy and humming pleased as he feels the bulge of his cock nestled deep inside. “jus’ need my thumb, eh?” with the first swipe, your nails dug deeper into his skin and your thighs nearly shut. and from that reaction, simon knew it was time to finally let his beautiful wife cum.

and for the last time, his hips smack against yours at a fast speed, pounding and fucking as if tonight was the end of the world and you two had to say goodbye to each other. when his thumb lays against your clit, rubbing circles at the same rhythm of his quick hips, the dam finally broke. your body forcibly arched and your head slides between the seat and the backseat window. simon forces your thighs to keep spread open and grunts into your throat as your pussy contracts around his cock. all of your moans kept spilling out - you couldn’t stop them even if you tried. it was like electricity was coursing through your body. the wave of euphoria crashed at an alarming speed and you’re sure you’re screaming, but it sounds like you’re underwater. simon was stunned, in all honesty, at how hard you came. and you just won’t stop.

“agh!” he grunts and pulls his thumb away from your overly sensitive clit. he instead wraps his arms back around your trembling body and does three good, hard thrusts before the knot tightened and tightened and he spills inside of you. he grinds deep and slow, making sure none is wasted and is settled thickly inside your womb.

heavy breathing and weak moans echo in the car. the heavy rain slowed to a gentle drizzle. your thighs couldn’t stop twitching. simon lowers his head and kisses your pulse point so very gently, humming pleased when you sign contently. he kisses the side of your face tenderly, tracing a line from your pulse, up to your soft jaw, and then your plushy cheek. your breathing finally slowed and you lift your head to look up at simon. a bead of sweat slid down his temple and you had half a mind to lick it away. the two of you look into each other’s eyes and there wasn’t a single thing that could make you look away. and there wasn’t a single thing that could ruin this moment. simon had to swallow down the lump in his throat.

“d’you realize jus’ how much i love you?” he asks you quietly, head tilting to brush his strong nose against yours. “i would go to the ends of the earth f’you.”

at this whisper of a confession, you sniffle and let out a watery laugh, a lonesome tear sliding down your cheek that is quickly wiped away by his thumb. he leans down and hovers his lips over yours. you take the last step and curl your fingers into his hair to pull him down. when your lips touched, it felt like everything disappeared at that moment. the two of kissed and kissed until you needed air. and even though, you would take gulps of air and find his lips again. his cock was still snug deep inside. even soft, he still had some length and weight to him. but you loved this. it made you feel more connected to each other. the rain had stopped completely now. you both broke your kiss, a thin string of saliva connecting. simon lightly thumbs at your lip to wipe it away.

“now, lets get you home.”

[thetriumphantpanda]

i saw mommy kissing santa claus | joel miller

Summary | Your daughter catches you kissing santa... or does she?

Word Count | 1.3K

Warnings | Mentions of traditional Christmas (A tree, gift giving ect), Joel dressed as Santa, Joel being a daddy again, Joel AS A HUSBAND, smut but not super explicit - oral sex (f) and unprotected PiV, just general fluff really.

Authors note | Firstly, I have to give a huge shoutout to @wildemaven - the Dave York piece she posted recently definitely inspired this little Drabble, along with being stuck in a car with my bestie for three hours with the Christmas radio blaring. This is just some sweet Christmas fluff for us all!

Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi.

amazing divider by @saradika

The way the snow flurries fall outside are still a wonder to you, even after seven years of winters in Jackson. The warmth you remember from Christmas before the end of the world is a distant memory now, the open windows and the light breeze of December now replaced with the biting cold and the four layers you must wear inside your home to keep as warm as possible. It’s magical though, the way it looks picture perfect, just like the movies you would watch back then. If you could, you’d take a photo of it, use it as the family Christmas card.

Turning around from the window, the room is bathed in the orange glow from the fire you set a few hours earlier. The lamp, on Joel’s side of the couch is also helping, as are the frosty lights wrapped haphazardly around the tree, in making it feel normal. Because really it is. This has been your life for the past five years, putting up a tree, setting small gifts under it like you always had before all of this. The three stockings set above the fireplace, ready to be filled in the next few hours – the precursor of joy the following morning.

Sofia had thankfully gone to bed with little fuss tonight. Finally old enough to understand that the earlier she went to sleep, the earlier she could wake up to find out if Santa had paid her a visit. She hadn’t been planned, but then when were children ever a plan in this new world? You’d been scared, Joel had been terrified, but in the end, she had been the most wonderful thing to happen to the both of you.

You settle on the couch, letting the warmth from the fire soothe the aches that the cold now settles across your bones. You’re almost able to fall asleep, when, with clockwork timing, Joel tears open the front door, a flurry of snow and cold following him in as he closes it behind him. You struggled to stifle a giggle as you turn to look at him.

Dressed head to toe in a Santa costume that is far too big for him, not enough time for the town seamstress to do anything other than pin the sides of the trousers in. The hat on his head is almost covering his eyes, his hand pushing it back to sit properly, as he deposits the sack, once full of tiny gifts but now empty, on the ground. He’s got a fake beard on to cover most of his face so that none of the children that did see him would know it was Joel.

“Wow,” You muse lightly, standing from the couch, “I thought it was customary to wait for everyone to go to sleep before you turned up?”

There’s a slight grumble from under his beard as you step closer to him, watching as he pulls the fake beard down to sit around his neck, his beautiful face finally revealed. You set your back against the closed door, leaning against it, fluttering your eyelashes slightly.

“Did you bring us presents, Santa?” You ask, voice sultry and low.

“Depends,” Joel says, voice just as low, “Have you been a good girl this year?”

That low, southern drawl shoots straight between your legs, thighs rubbing together as you shrug at him, wrinkle your nose a little, “You’d have to ask my husband.”

You watch as he smirks, steps a little closer to you, his gloved hand wrapping around your waist, “What would he say?”

“That I can be a handful,” You bite at your bottom lip, “But ultimately, I always do as I’m told.”

Joel leans down, as slowly as possible, mouth so close you can feel his breath across your lips, your body tugged closely to his own now, “Well then,” He muses, “If you’ve been a good girl, it’s only right you get your gift.”

His mouth is on yours in no time, softly pressed against yours, his hand clutching your body close to his as you wrap your arms around his neck, pressing up on your tiptoes so your mouth is finally flush with his own. You open your mouths at the same time, tongues meeting as Joel groans into your mouth, hands pulled from your body just long enough to tear the gloves off his hands, shoving them straight under the hem of your shirt, resting at your waist to move you gently from the door to the couch.

He sets you down on your back, fumbling his big body to cover yours as those hands of his work to undo your jeans - tearing them down your legs enough so he can put his mouth on you. You feel weirdly like a teenager, fumbling with someone on the couch like this, biting down on your fist in order to keep quiet as Joel’s tongue works across your soaked cunt, drinking you down, tipping you over the edge twice with his mouth - the second, with his fingers buried deep inside you - trying to keep yourself as quiet as you can, you know the other option is waking your daughter and having to spend the rest of the night trying to get her to go back to sleep.

It gets harder to hold that noise in when Joel pulls you onto his lap, trousers pushed down just enough for you to sink down onto his cock, that stupid Santa jacket unbuttoned, pushed off his shoulders, your mouth biting down on his skin as he fucks up into you, his hands gripping the meat of your ass to keep you still.

It’s messy, it lasts probably less than five minutes, Joel spilling himself inside of you, your mouth pulled from his shoulder, bite mark evident as he moves you gently, puts himself right so he can carry you up the stairs, tuck you both into bed, his warm body next to yours as you both drift off to sleep, sated and happy.

Then, the next morning, with Sofia on her knees in front of the tree, you sat on the couch, curled into Joel’s side with a smile on your face at the elation your daughter finds in tearing the paper off her gifts, she says something no-one expects.

“Daddy?” She says, big brown eyes looking up at the two of you.

“Yes, Darlin’?”

“Mommy was kissing Santa last night.”

You almost choke on your coffee, spluttering to try and keep your composure, praying to the Almighty that it was just the kissing she saw. Joel though, is cool as a cucumber.

“Is that right?” He asks, looking down at you with a wink.

“Yeah!” Sofia exclaims, “I saw her last night.”

“You were supposed to be in bed.” You chastise her lightly, “What were you doing up?”

“I heard the door open,” She says, so matter-of-factly that it’s like having a conversation with an adult, “I wanted to meet him.”

“Well, you see,” Joel speaks, “Sometimes, to get your presents from Santa, he’s gotta ask for somethin’ in return, all that travellin’ in one night and he sees your pretty mama?” He shakes his head, “I’d ask her for a kiss too.”

She mulls it over a little, small hands holding onto an unopened gift, then clearly accepts the explanation as she tears into the paper.

“Nicely saved,” You whisper into his ear, lips pressing a kiss to the delicate skin behind it, “Christmas is saved.”

“Oh baby,” He whispers back, taking the lull in Sofia’s attention on the two of you to look down at you, “You can’t think you can kiss Santa and get away with it?” His low voice sends a silver down your spine, “You’re gonna have to make up for that later."

[fishwithnohobby]

shoutout ghost fandom for being insane about tummies and big noses you are undoing a lot of self hatred in my brain