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gloomwitchwrites · 7 months ago

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I'm in a roll....

The 141 in grey sweatpants. 🥵

You're in a roll? Me too. A brioche roll. Or maybe a Hawaiian roll. Or rolled inside one of Price's many cigars. Kidding (not really). I knew what you meant.

And grey sweatpants...yes please! I am salivating over here. Literally drooling. And it's only grey sweatpants. No shirts. No shoes. Just sweatpants and muscle. (my god I need to go touch grass).

These are...spicy. How could they not be? It's our favorite men in nothing but grey sweatpants.

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Reader

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): established relationship, suggestive themes, swearing, invitations for sex, dirty thoughts, sexual situations, married life, fade to black

Word Count: 2k

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

“It’s bedtime. Bath. Pajamas. Teeth.”

“But Dad! Lucy and I—”

“Bed.” You grin into your glass as John ushers the children out of the living room. “Come on you two. I want to kiss your mother.”

“Ew. Gross!” the kids screech in unison.

The trio disappears down the hallway. You hear water running and the laughter of your children. John eventually emerges thirty minutes later. He runs his hand over the top of his head, sighing heavily.

When he enters the living room and notices you, he grins mischievously. His body is on full display. Broad chest with a lovely dusting of dark hair that trails downward to disappear beneath the band of his grey sweatpants. John is all thick muscle. A wall of strength. You’ve always loved that about him. How he seems to take up so much space or the way he crushes you with his body when he goes in for a snuggle.

John plops down on the sofa beside you. The moment his ass hits the cushion, John grabs for you. You giggle, playfully pushing at your husband as his weight tips you back, pinning you to the sofa.

“The kids,” you protest with a whisper.

“They’re sleeping,” he replies just as softly, keeping you pressed beneath him.

John goes in for a kiss. It is sweet. Slow. Deep. Completely indulgent. There is so much of him. And his scent is everywhere. It fills your lungs. Makes you weak.

Your lips part and John slips his tongue inside. You start to soften, to lean into his kisses. Each is salt-laced passion. A tease for later. He might have you pinned against the couch, and his tongue down your throat, but John will move this behind a locked door.

As John goes in for another kiss, the sound of a door unlatching comes from the hall. John freezes and you go still beneath him.

“Fucking hell,” he mutters.

Pushing up to a more seated position, John addresses the offender with a raised voice. “You best be in bed.”

There’s a gentle squeak, and then a door closing.

John sinks back down, resting his forehead against yours. He sighs heavily, and you give him a quick kiss. He returns it, and then snakes an arm under your back. He hauls you up and into his lap. You straddle him, hands pressed against his firm chest.

Through the sweatpants, you can feel his hardness pressing against your thigh. John’s hands roam downward to cup your buttocks, squeezing.

“Ready to take this elsewhere?” he asks, grinding his hips upward.

You have to stifle a moan.

“Please, John.”

With a light slap to your ass, he lifts you off his lap and onto your feet. The ground is solid. Steady. But then John’s hands return, and then you’re away, being guided down the hall to your bedroom.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

You snuggle into the couch and crack open your paperback book.

Everything is in order. You have a glass of wine, a bowl of snacks, the tableside lamp on, and a cozy blanket. It’s late, but it’s officially the weekend. There will be plenty of time to relax.

“Reading out here?”

You glance up, and find Kyle in the entrance of the hallway, leaning against the wall. He’s shirtless. Without shoes. Just him, his freshly showered skin, and a pair of grey sweatpants. Kyle absently scratches at his chiseled stomach, head slightly tilted as he waits for your answer.

You can’t help but focus in on every line of muscle.

“Babe,” he prompts, laughing.

“Sorry?” you reply, blinking.

Kyle laughs again, the sound sweet. He strides forward, coming to a stop beside the sofa. He taps the side of his mouth. “Got some drool.”

“Oh, fuck off,” you giggle, checking with a quick wipe with the back of your hand.

Kyle’s smile is infectious. You can’t help but match it.

“Can I join you?” he asks, already lifting the blanket.

“You’re not going out with the boys?”

Kyle shakes his head. With one hand he lifts the blanket, and with the other he grabs your legs and lifts. He slides in, and drapes your legs over his lap before returning the blanket to drape over your body. Keeping one hand under the blanket, Kyle rests his hand on your inner thigh. It stirs heat in your core.

“Tomorrow,” he yawns. “Simon has a sick kid.”

“Bummer.”

Kyle shrugs, draping his over arm over the back of the couch. His hand on your thigh is a brand, and it’s only made worse when he starts massaging.

“Is it a spicy one?” asks Kyle, nodding toward your book.

Yes.

“Maybe,” you say slowly.

Kyle smirks, and then the book is out of your hand.

“Kyle!” You reach for it, but he twists, blocking your forward momentum.

He examines the pages in front of him. Heat rushes into your cheeks. As he reads, his eyes widen.

Kyle’s mouth drops open.

“What?” you prompt. You try to snag the book but he blocks you.

He glances at you. “Are you aware of where he’s putting that gun?”

“It’s fictional.”

“When you ask me to recreate things—”

“Kyle—”

“—is this what you’re talking about?” His gaze goes from you to the book and then to you again. “I’m down for a lot of things, love, but I’m not sure I’m down for that.”

Pushing off from the couch, you snatch the book out of Kyle’s hands. He surrenders it easily, a smile on his perfect face. The blanket is a crumbled mess beside him, but that’s not what you’re focused on.

The grey sweatpants have shifted, exposing more of the deep v of his pelvis. But it’s not just that. Kyle is hard. That is very clear.

He leans against the back of the couch, throwing both arms out to rest over the top. Flexing his hips, Kyle puts himself on display.

“I’ve got something else I can put inside you.”

John "Soap" MacTavish

A delighted shriek comes from the kitchen.

Johnny emerges, completely unbothered even with the two children in his arms. He has the oldest child, who just turned five, sideways and tucked under one arm. The boy has a wicked smile of his face even as he wiggles, trying to free himself from his father’s grasp. It’s fruitless.

The other child, a boy of three, keeps shrieking with delight even as Johnny lifts him into the air by his ankle. He is upside down, arms flailing, his brown hair hanging below him.

Johnny doesn’t even blink. Doesn’t even break a sweat. He carries the two of them like it’s nothing.

He’s almost completely naked except for a pair of grey sweatpants that hang low on his hips. They show off the deep v of his pelvis, and the dusting of dark hair that spreads over his chest and descends downward. You’ve touched that chest so many times. You know it as well as you know yourself.

Johnny’s gaze is on the television, watching the football match. The kids still shriek and playfully claw at him. But he remains unbothered.

Sitting there on the sofa, you consider that a third kid might not be so bad. You’d give him a small army if he asked.

Johnny glances away from the television, and when his gaze lands on you, it is entirely knowing. Heat curls in your belly, and his smile widens.

“Found these gremlins digging in the pantry,” he says, indicating the kids by hoisting the three-year old higher into the air and squeezing the other tighter against him.

Both kids giggle manically.

“After brushing their teeth.” Johnny tuts. “What’s to be done?”

Both children continue to giggle, not answering their father.

“Sounds like it’s time for bed,” you muse.

The children groan.

“But I’m not tired,” moans the five-year old.

“Too bad,” laughs Johnny. “Come on.”

He doesn’t put them down. He carries them like that all the way to their bedroom. Even from your spot on the sofa, you can hear their manic giggling. After a while, it quiets down, and Johnny emerges from the hall.

Instead of sitting down on the couch next to you, he grabs the remote and shuts off the television.

“Not interested in the game?” you ask.

“Nope. Want something else.”

His sultry smile tells you enough.

Slowly, he approaches, coming to a stop in front of you. He offers his hand, and you take it. With little effort, Johnny brings you to your feet, and hauls you close. Your free hand immediately rises, pressing against his chiseled stomach.

“What is it that you want?” you murmur, already knowing the answer.

His hardness presses against your belly, his voice going low and gravelly as he speaks. “I’d like to spend some time between those gorgeous thighs.”

“Doing what?”

“Whatever I very well please.”

Simon "Ghost" Riley

This is agony. A terrible joke.

Simon is right there. Sweaty. Shirtless. In nothing but a pair of grey sweatpants.

He’s completely in the zone. Heavy metal blares through the stereo’s speakers, drowning out the sound of his gloved fists striking the punching bag. Morning light pours in from the open window, giving Simon an ethereal glow.

You watch from the doorway, chewing on your bottom lip, wanting nothing more than to pounce on him. Simon is all muscle, and not in a gym rat way. He is thick everywhere. You want to lick the sweat from his skin, to drop to your knees before him, and tug those grey sweatpants down.

You know what you’d find. And it sounds delicious.

But he is in the zone. And you won’t disturb him.

Pushing down the naughty thoughts, you start to turn away, to return to the kitchen and find something to eat for breakfast.

The music abruptly cuts off.

“See something you like, love?”

Simon’s raspy voice draws you back to the room. With one hand on the doorframe, you meet his gaze, and promptly melt into the floor. He has a cocky grin on his face, and his shoulders heave slightly from exhaustion.

You lick your lips. “Always,” you reply, fingers digging into the wood.

Simon’s gaze scans you. You feel exposed, like he can see through your clothes. It’s knowing. Amused.

“What is it?” you prompt, staring just as hard as he is.

Simon removes one glove and then the other. He tosses them to the side, never taking his eyes off you.

“Come here,” he says.

You don’t move.

Simon arches a single eyebrow. Instead of repeating himself, he gestures with one finger, indicating that he wants you to come to him.

Heat rushes from your cheeks down to your toes. Slowly, you peel yourself away from the door, heading for him. Simon’s natural swagger is alluring, and those sweatpants sit so low.

Just one tug. That’s all it would take. And you’d be able to take him in your mouth.

As you approach, Simon reaches out, grabbing your waist, tugging you close to him. You instinctually hook your finger in the waistband of his grey sweatpants.

Simon smirks.

You inhale deeply, savoring the manly musk of him.

“Hungry?” he asks.

“Not for breakfast,” you sigh.

“For something else then?”

You nod.

Simon leans in but doesn’t kiss you. He holds back slightly, lips curved into a hint of a smile. “Want to hear what I have in mind?”

“Yes,” you breathe.

Simon presses his thumb on your bottom lip. “I can fill that mouth.” His thumb drops away from your lips, and trails over your chin before brushing over your stomach. “And belly.”

His gaze stays on you. “What do you think of that, love?”

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tangerinesilk · 1 year ago

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－ DISTRACTION : DAVE LIZEWSKI

dave was a great study buddy, but there's no doubt he was a distraction. he constantly made you turn your head twice at whatever he said or did whether it was some comic book character he rambled about or how his pale blue eyes shined under the warm lighting of his desk lamp.

pairing ✷ college!dave lizewski x college!fem!reader

rating ✷ r (18+ minors dni!)

tropes ✷ friends with benefits, spicy but no / little plot, unspoken love, domestic toward eachother but no dating, dorky and awkward people in love who just wont admit it theyre in love (sort of) | nsfw warnings below!

word count ✷ 1.7k

a/n ✷ um this was a random thought and it just sort of happened. stg it feels like i blacked out while writing this KSKFFKS what is going on with me. anyways been wanting to write about this cute dork for a while and why not make it really hot. posting now so i dont chicken out but ill edit later.... i always love feedback! xo

[ steamy warnings: mentions of public sex, dom & sub switches, p in v without protection, nipple play, hj + bj, f receiving oral from m, praising + heavy dirty talk, face sitting, finishing inside v ]

typical weekends: saturday night at dave's apartment.

dave was explaining something... it was something. something important, but all you could focus on was his pretty eyes and how soft his lips looked today. he pushed his glasses up more on his nose bridge again, looking down at his book for one of his college classes.

he was so into the subject, you didn't even have to nod. you were occasionally tapping the eraser end of your pencil against your blank notebook, only listening to every other word.

suddenly, your mind wanders to when you two were doing laundry at three in the morning and got a little spontaneous. then getting a bit handsy on the top floor of the library where no one usually was. maybe even the time when you were visiting him back home for one weekend and you both could barely keep it together with company downstairs.

ever since you both agreed on this friends with benefits agreement, your dry spells were no longer an issue. it seemed like both of you were touched starved, but not wanting to meet other people, strangers you didnt want or need to know.

so, after becoming lab partners in your fall semester of senior year, its been nonstop seeing each other. not just for sex, but hanging out to study, going to local comic book stores and libraries, even the occasional dinner and sleepover combo at his apartment or yours.

it seemed like a wild card at first, but you would never admit (outloud) to dave lizewski that you underestimated how great his tongue felt inside your pus—

"y/n, are you even listening?"

you cleared your throat, "hmm?"

he chuckled, "so you weren't... i know, its kind of boring."

now you felt bad, caught up from going down memory lane and he was excited about his new class.

you ran your hand over his curls, "im sorry, dave. my mind was wandering."

he turned, seeming interested, "about what?"

you felt the heat rise to your cheeks, "about... you know..." you trailed then shrugged, "stuff."

dave smiled, "oh yeah? you weren't, i dont know, thinking about me?"

you had seen this confidence grow inside dave as more time passed, and you weren't sure if it was cockiness, but you couldn't deny how cute yet attractive it was on him.

"why dont you go back to what you were rambling about? please. im all ears now." you lean in, placing your hands underneath your chin with your elbows on his desk.

its ironic how his full size bed was behind the two of you yet here you are, acting like this was the first time you've hung out.

he pressed wet kisses against your inner thighs, your clit aching for his mouth as his nose brushed against your skin. he'd let out a nervous chuckle as he noticed the wet spot forming on the center of your panties. you'd bite your bottom lip as he licked his lips, in awe of the mess you were for him.

dave pulled down your panties, shuffling them down your ankles before tossing them to the side. his strong hands run up the top of your thighs before holding your hips, pulling your core closing to his mouth. after his first, yet hesitant, kiss on your clit, you let out a faint moan.

soon his tongue was running over your open slit and tasting your sweet wetness. you arched your back, leaning back on his desk as he flicked your clit a few times. when he pushes his tongue inside you, a rush of heat runs over your entire body. you caress your own breasts and pull at your own nipples as he picks up his pace.

"fuck... god, yes. eat my fucking pussy." you whimpered. he got so weak when you uttered your sweet nothings. as dominant as he thought he presented himself, dave was a sucker for you.

just when you thought it couldn't get better, he slide his two fingers into your slit as his tongue flicks your swollen clit. you told him how you love when he curled his fingers inside you, knuckle deep and gathering your wetness every pump as he brought you closer to your orgasm.

your hips grind against his mouth and hand, painfully near your climax. he cursed under his breath as he felt your pussy clench around his digits. he pulls his mouth away from your clit, trailing more kisses over your stomach then rolls his tongue against your right nipple.

his hand still worked your slit, thrusting so fast that your head was spinning along with the pleasure of him sucking your erect nipple. you glanced down, seeing how his hard pressed against his khakis. just the thought of taking his cock into your mouth made you dizzy, bucking your hips against his fingers.

"yes... make me cum. i wanna fucking cum on your fingers." you muttered under your breath, pulling at his curls. dave's knees were giving out as he held his position but he loved to hear your continous begging.

he was about to see if he could pick up his pace before your hand reached down, sliding into the front of his stained pants and caressing his hard cock. he grunted against your chest, instantly weak from your touch which made him pause.

"hmm, what about i cum on your cock instead?" you giggled as your lips met his, "it's so hard... bet you've been thinking about cumming inside my tight pussy, huh, dave?"

he sighed, "shit..."

"that's what i thought, baby." you say before taking his fingers into your mouth, tasting your own cum. he takes a mental picture even though you've done this in your previous hookups.

you hop off the desk, playfully pushing him on his twin size bed. you slowly get on your knees, running your hand over the crotch of his pants that were already unbuttoned and half unzipped. it's easy for your pull his cock out, practically springing from his briefs.

his eyes are glued to you as your tongue runs up and down the base before wrapping your lips against his red tip. you half-giggle when you taste his pre-cum, then carefully take him all in your mouth. you gag a bit as his tip pushes further in, and he groans when your throat tightens around him.

you push your tongue out to make sure your teeth dont graze his cock as you deep throat him, incredibly slow, so he can watch in awe. he leans up on his elbows, falling apart as you take him in your mouth so easily and your hand pumping the rest of his base.

"fucking christ... fuck." he muttered, his dick twitching inside your mouth as your salvia runs down when you gag on his hard.

his hand runs over your hair, gathering it together to keep it out of your face— also to have a better view of him receiving one of the best blowjobs you've given him.

when you pull your mouth away, you giggle as you pump his cock with your spit lubricating for better motion. his face screws together the faster you pump, and he can barely take the pleasure.

"hmm, i bet you wanna cum on my face... and tits. but, i want you to cum inside me." you say as you but your bottom lip, running your thumb over the cum leaking from his tip.

"me too, baby. fuck!" he grunts, and it makes you smile at how much of a mess he is too.

you rise from your knees, relieving the pressure on them before straddling him on his bed. you pull off your top, tossing it on the other side of the room as he quickly peels his shirt off as well. his big hands run up your body, over your breasts once more as his thumbs move against your nipples.

"god, i want to feel every inch of your cock... so, don't stop until you're finished." you tell him as you run his tip agaisnt your slit before slowly sinking down on him.

"babe, shit... fuck." he whimpered, his fingers pressing into your hips as you arch your back.

"god, im so tight." you moan, "your cock is so big... can barely fit you inside me." you huff, your eyes closed shut as you slowly move your hips.

soon, you meet a nice pace of bouncing on his cock and he loosens up as he watches you move up and down. his bright eyes keep moving between looking at your tits and your face, completely amazed by your beauty.

you run your hands over his toned chest and abdomen, leaving light scratches on his skin from the waves of pleasure coursing throughout your body.

"dave, im gonna cum. oh, oh! i'm gonna cum." you announced to him and he was holding off anyways, his jaw clenched his much that it was beginning to feel painful.

as you arch your back and let out a long whine, he stills his hips as his warm cum fills you up. it was the first time he was fully inside you, and you were aching around his cock, feeling it throbbing against your walls.

he leans up, leaving a soft kiss just above your breasts before you two share another kiss. you can't help but giggle, both of you feeling that sudden hit of exhaustion.

you lift yourself from your cock and cum runs down your slit, letting him see the mess he made. dave smirks, expecting him to say that he'll get you a towel but instead licks his lips and starts to lean down between your legs again.

it was like deja vu. his tongue presses against your swollen slit, tasting your mixed cum before sucking on your sore clit. now you're so sensitive to the touch, you could orgasm again at any moment. he was so in tune with your body that he knew what pace to go and how long you could actually lasts.

you run your hands over your breasts, his tongue moving so perfectly between your slit and clit. you feel his press a light kiss against the area above your pussy before trailing more kisses up your body. then, you two shared another kiss, tasting each other's tongues once more before he laid next to you.

"you know, i've never had a study partner like you." you jeered, pressed a kiss against the start of his jaw.

he blushed, "me neither..." he raised his eyebrows, "trust me."

#dave lizewski #dave lizewski x reader #dave lizewski smut #dave lizewski x you #kick ass

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megalomaniacz · 2 months ago

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ur toxic pit fighter vi thingy is having me twirling my hair. me want more movie ….. if it ok….

TOXIC PITFIGHTER VI HEADCANONS PT2

i got you darling, more movie :)

incredibly short tempered. everyone has 30 seconds…29…28…27

last book she read was the art of seduction

likes the feeling of nails scratching her back

eats so messily and gets mad when you try to offer her a napkin

swears she can fix everything in the house and ends up making shit worse

air boxes next to you when you’re cooking in the kitchen

loves SPICY noodles. her asshole doesn’t tho…

doesn’t understand that a pillow fight is not an actual fight and you always end up on the floor teary eyed

likes when you do her hair and won’t let anyone else do it

used sharpie as eyeliner in middle school

“name five creed songs” head ass

has a picture of her and vander hung up in her room :(

lies about being over her ex

loves drawing on your face while you’re sleeping

invited jinx over for dinner once (it was take out) and they proceeded to break several lamps, had a mini food fight, and some words that i cannot repeat were exchanged…

gives you her jacket when you’re cold

smells like grease and milds

told you she’d pick you up from work but fell asleep instead

bad. bad. BAD texter. dont even get me started.

wants snakebites

will cuddle you sometimes in her sleep and she’s sooo warm

don’t gaf. will fuck you in public doesn’t care who hears and you better wear that skirt she likes

secretly sniffs your clothes when she misses you

lowkey has cuteness aggression and bites you during sex

#bunnie can speak? ☆#bun’s asks ꕤ #bun’s anons ˖°🦇ִ ࣪𖤐 #lesbian #lesbian fanfic #sapphic #wlw #wlw post #fanfic series #arcane #vi x y/n #vi x you #vi arcane #vi x reader #pit fighter vi #toxic!vi #vi headcanons #arcane headcanon

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lostinlovingrevery · 18 days ago

Text

Smooches

Old Man Logan X F! Reader

A/N: This is short and sweet, no plot, just Logan coming home to you and relaxing.

Plot: You brighten Logan's world

Warnings: None! It's pure fluff, a little making out w Lo

Word Count: 1372

Another day.

Another day of putting up with know-it-all assholes, holier than thou customers who looked down at him like he was scum of the Earth purely because he was a driver and not some fancy rich haughty taughty dumbass who gambles his kids college fund away and cheats on his wife with some showgirl 20 years younger than him.

Another day of aches that riddled his body- a body that used to be indestructible, able to withstand bullets, knives, hell even a fucking nuclear explosion. Now, he has scars haunting his skin, pain that riddled his muscles and bones. Sitting in the driver seat for hours at the time, taking only the occasional smoke and piss break, does no help for the pain.

Another day of his endless lifespan, some cruel joke of god to keep a man like him alive on this Earth. A man who’s caused suffering, and now endures it.

He put the limo in park, leaning back in his seat, taking a deep breath, before moving to shut the car off. He turned and looked at the old plant he now calls home.

An old metal monster, forgotten, like him. Only to remember what’s waiting inside.

Another day….of you.

The thought of you was enough to motivate him to get out of the limo. He shut the door behind him, pushing the lock on his key fob and limbered over to the door of the factory; pushing the door open and making his way to the elevator. He hated the factory, the smell of oil and metal was strong enough that it gave him a headache and make him nauseous the moment he stepped inside. The place was dark, empty, and it wasn’t the most welcoming sight on his old eyes. Once he reached the elevator, he pulled the gated door open, and stepped inside.

His mood heightening a bit, as he heard soft music playing on the floor of your living area over the sounds of the elevator grinding and squeaking as the pulleys did it’s job. The scent of something warm and spicy cooking wafted to his nose, slowly replacing the scent of metal. Reaching the floor, he pulled the elevator door open, a loud clank! and whine eliciting from it, and he made his way down the hall to the small space you and him have formed to resemble something of an apartment.

He opened the door into the space that had been crafted to resemble a living room, greeted with the delicious smell of a stir-fry, a vanilla candle lit somewhere in the room, and the scent of you nearby. A welcome change compared to the smell of rust and metal in the rest of the factory, that was slowly being forgotten as he stepped further into the inviting place.

Mismatched furniture thrifted from various stores from a local town, some from your old apartment decorated the place. Bookshelves decorated one wall, lined with books that you pick up nearly every week and promise you'll read eventually. Large curtains pulled shut to hide the night sky from the room, and to protect the inside from the drafty windows. Multiple lamps, strewn around and plugged in, creating a warm atmosphere- better than the ceiling lights that reminded him of laboratories. Pictures, filled with loved ones from both you and Logan's past decorated walls, shelves, and tabletops. How you managed to get ahold of some of them- such as a group photo of the X-men taken about 3 years ago, he didn't know and didn't bother to question. Somehow, you managed to take a small section of an old factory, and turn it into you and Logans quiet slice of heaven.

Kicking off his shoes, and pulling off his jacket and button-up shirt, throwing them on a nearby table, leaving him in his slacks and a wife-beater tank top; he walked to the couch and sat down with a harsh groan, the couch bouncing and creaking from the weight of him being dropped onto the cushions.

“Doll? I’m home.” He called out, his voice sounded gravelly and husky. The sound of your footsteps quickly approaching from the kitchen and you soon appeared in the doorway, looking like an angel the way the light illuminated around you.

Wearing only one of his shirts, you bounded over to him happily, a beaming smile across his face- enough to make all his worries fade, as if the mere presence of you removed the poisonous material of his bones that was slowly destroying his body. You didn’t hesitate to straddle his lap, arms stretched over his shoulders, as you pecked his lips-

One

Two

Three times!

He chuckled quietly at the kisses, but you weren’t down yet as you moved to kiss the tip of his nose, then each cheek, and then his forehead. His hands settled over your hips, closing his eyes with a faint smile barely visible due to his thick beard, as you began covering his face with soft kisses, your hands moved to cradle his jaw. You landed on his lips once more- this time he made sure to capture you in a real kiss, as you molded into him, his hands reaching to press into your back and press you against him as he soaked in every ounce of you. Your soft lips moved against his chapped, and your tongue came out, wetting across his bottom lip and begging for entrance.

Who was he to deny you?

Your kisses turned soft to something messy, spit and soft moans escaping as you laid down your love on him, you started to grind your hips on him, and he groaned, his hands moving back down to cup your ass. You parted from him, your lips swollen and spit covered, and smiled cheekily.

“Hi.” You greet. He exhaled and grinned.

“Hi.” He responded, his eyes had softened at the sight of you, the tension in his body fading, and the day he has disappeared into the recesses of his mind. You ran your hand down his chest, over his torso and back up his body, onto his shoulders.

“Your day?” You asked.

“Usual.” He answers. “You?”

“It was good. Charles had a good day today.” You brought you hands over the back of his neck, intertwining with his hair as you examined his handsome face. How can it be possible that someone looks so good all the time? “We played a few games of chess- he won every round of course. And we did a little gardening too. The African Violets we planted are finally starting to come in!”

He nodded, happily listening to you go on about your day. It was your weekend off from work, and you took care of Charles during these days to give Caliban a break. He always admired your ability to stay optimistic, to stay strong in the face of adversity. Today was a good day sure, but even on the rough days you still always manage to pluck the positive between the cracks. A quality of yours he hasn’t quite picked up for himself, but considering his age it shouldn’t be a surprise that he’s set in his ways.

His thumb mindlessly rubbed circles into your hip, and your fingers softly tugged at the hair on the back of his neck. He loved these moments. These quiet moments when he could forget about the world and focus on you.

“Logan?”

“Hm?”

“Were you listening?” You pout. He chuckled.

“Course I was doll. You made a new recipe?”

You smiled, happy that he was indeed listening. “It’s a stir-fry. It’s all done, I think you’ll love it. Got your favorite stuff in it.”

“It smells great baby.” He hums. “I think though, I wanna have some dessert before we have dinner.”

A small pout on your face, as you put your hands on your hips. “After all that work I put into dinner?”

He chuckled. “It’ll be there when we’re done. Cmon baby, give me some sugar.” He purred, looking up at you with a sultry expression.

Your will gave way, you could never turn him down- especially when he looked at you like he wanted to eat you alive.

#logan howlett #wolverine #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett fanfiction #logan howlett fic #logan howlett x you #wolverine x reader #vans daydreams #old man logan #logan #old man logan fluff #i originally started this with a plot and decided i jsut wanted to make this short and sweet

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i-am-a-bad-influence-writes · 28 days ago

Text

P*rn ☆ Chapter 7, All of you

Masterlist Word count: 2.4k Sylus x Fem!Reader

Summary: You have been following a spicy content creator by the name of Red Crow for some time now. Nothing could’ve prepared you for what would happen when he moves into the apartment next door.

Author's note: Can you tell I'm procrastinating my school work? I should've been working on a presentation but this fic is consuming my every thought.

Warning! This story is meant for mature audiences. It contains sex, swear words, porn, smoking, intimate piercings, mentions of drugs, alcohol, mentions of domestic abuse, and other mature themes. Do not engage if you are under 18.

Mature content under the cut. (Yes, for real this time)

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I do really want to get to know you. All of you. All of you. All of you. All of you. All of you. All of you. All of you. All of you. All of you. All of you. All of you. All of you. All of you. All of you. All of you. All of you. All of you. All of you. All of you. All of you. All of you. All of you. All of you. All of you. All of you. All of you.

The sickeningly sweet tone of your voice keeps ringing in Sylus’ ears as if it were tinnitus. It's been no more than a few hours since everything went down and he tried to go to sleep, but here he lays. Sleepless, staring at the ceiling of his bedroom, his reflection staring back at him. A few weeks ago those mirrors had been a great idea, now he regrets them more than anything.

They make him angry, to look down at himself and see someone so weak, so desperate for a person to like him that he loses all sense of confidence when one bad thing happens. He tries to remind himself that people are flawed, that you couldn't possibly hate him for having a panic attack, but her voice rings in the back of his head.

"Who could possibly want you? Look at you! Crying over nothing!"

Deep down he knows she was wrong, yet those words, all of her venomous words, are engraved in his memories.

And then there's you who looked at him so kindly and determined when you helped him. Would you still be awake at this hour? He checks his phone on the nightstand for the time. 22:38. It's not that late. Perhaps he should send you a text.

He unlocks his phone starts typing "you up," but quickly deletes it when he sounds it out in his head. Seems too forward for a moment like this. Maybe a heartfelt apology for sending you away so suddenly? Or a time and place to meet for that date you want so bad? To be fair, he wants it too. With a sigh, he settles for a short message.

Sylus: "I'm sorry."

He throws his phone to the side but it dings before it can even hit the mattress beside him.

You: "Don't be. I get it."

How could you get it? He just had a childish meltdown over a memory of a person he left years ago. It's not behavior for a grown man.

Sylus: "Still."

You: "Can't sleep?"

Sylus: "No."

You: "I'll put the kettle on."

Sylus frowns to himself. Why you'd still want to take care of him is a mystery he can't solve. Not without talking to you at least. He peels himself off the covers and gets dressed in his sweatpants and a nice sweater to go see you next door when his phone pings again.

You: "I'm considering this our first date btw."

A smile pulls on his lips. He barely knows you but this just feels right. This feels like you... like home...

He shuffles into his slippers and head out into the hallway. Your door is slightly opened and he figures you did that so he can let himself in. When he steps into your apartment it is so different from a few days ago. All the furniture is in the same place, but the room is bathed in the light of a few decorative lamps that emit warm yellow light and some candles burning on your coffee table. The whole place feels like a warm hug.

You stand in the kitchen, pouring tea for the both of you and it just feels right to Sylus. Like some kind of domestic bliss. Something that he's never had before. You turn to walk the mugs to the coffee table and spot him standing at the end of the small little hallway leading into your living room. You smile.

'Hey.'

'Hey,' he responds, trying to hide his smile. You walk to the coffee table and he follows. The both of you take a seat on the couch on separate ends.

'Do you like honey in your tea?'

'Do I look like a person who likes honey in their tea?' You shrug and he feels himself smile again. 'Sure.' You walk back to the kitchen and come back with two teaspoons and a honey jar.

'How much?'

'Just a little bit.' You nod and he watches as you, very seriously, put some honey in his tea with one teaspoon and one massive glob with the other teaspoon in your own. 'Isn't that a bit excessive?'

'I don't tell you what to like,' you tease as you put the lid back on the jar. With your mug in your hand, you sit cross-legged on the couch, half turned towards him. 'Do you want to talk about what happened?'

'Not right now.'

'That's okay. You don't have to tell me.'

'I want to. Just not right now.' You nod. 'Honestly, I just want to listen to you talk.' That catches you a big off guard.

'You want to-'

'Yes. Your voice soothes me for some reason,' he admits. Shit, that might even be the first time he acknowledges it, let alone admit it, to himself.

'Sure. What do you want to hear me talk about?'

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He was hanging on your every word, humming in agreement every once in a while to assure you he was still listening. It's probably been hours and you're pretty much talked out. Sleep is all that's on your mind right now and it seems Sylus feels the same way. His eyes are barely staying open, his cup of tea long abandoned on the coffee table still half full. You had an inkling he wasn't a tea person but he did try.

'Sylus?' He hums in response, a low, rumbling hum. 'I think we should go to bed.' Another hum. You're not sure he's awake anymore, so you gently push his shoulder. He looks over at you, almost annoyed you disturbed him. 'Do you want to stay? Cuddle maybe?'

'Cuddle? Only if you're sure about it.'

'I am.'

And suddenly the giant man is in your bed. You had suspected him to want to be the big spoon or something, but somehow he ended up with his head on your chest, curled against you like a big cat. His arms around your waist, pulling you as close as humanly possible. His legs entangled with yours. One of your hands is on his shoulder, the other in his hair gently scratching his scalp. If you wouldn't know any better, you'd say he almost sounds like he's purring.

It's the best weighted blanket you could ever ask for.

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Soft light passes through your carelessly closed curtains, illuminating the scene on your bed as you blink your eyes open. Halfway through the night you must've pushed the covers off because Sylus is basically a human sized space heater. You must have twisted and turned quite a bit together because Sylus is on the other side of the bed that he started in, but still half on top of you. Normally that wouldn't bother you because it actually feels quite nice, but the tea you had last night now wants out.

As carefully as you can, you slide out from underneath the peacefully sleeping Sylus in hopes he won't wake up. You'll probably scoot back in when you're done in the bathroom. It's not like you have anything better to do today.

In the bathroom you decide to do a quick hygiene check. After all, this is not a man you want to scare off with bad morning breath or BO. You decide to take a quick shower and brush your teeth. Then you dress back into your pajama shirt. You figure you'll grab some panties in the bedroom before getting back into bed. Then, one last check the mirror. Sure, your hair is a mess and you've got flushed cheeks because you have the hottest man you've ever seen in your bed, but you look alright.

By the time you get back, Sylus is awake and lying on his back. One arm strewn over his face and the other... No...

Sylus is jerking off in your bed.

He must have not heard the shower turn off and as much as you should be offended, angry, annoyed at the very least... It's kind of hot. His ragged breathing, his strong arm flexing with every stroke. Nothing you haven't seen from him before but seeing it in the flesh is something special.

Quiet as you can, you walk over to the bed. When you climb onto the mattress Sylus feels the dip and pulls his arm off his face, looking at you with wide eyes. But the look in your eyes says enough. He grins and continues, watching you closely as you move over to straddle his thighs over the covers.

'Were you thinking about me,' you ask, your voice still low and gravely from sleep.

'Yes,' he breathes out, sounding not nearly as tough as he does in his videos but about ten times hotter. 'About your mouth, your tits, your hips, everything between your thighs.'

He seems to have found his confidence again and, honestly, it's a relief he's finally relaxed and at ease. Especially considering he's not at home. You shuffle a bit closer to where his hand is stroking his dick under the covers, your pussy getting wetter by the second. 'Do you want to kiss me?'

'Please,' he groans and reaches out for you. He grabs the back of your neck, pulls you forward, and kisses you with so much despair that you fear he might die without your lips on his. You're so close that you feel his fist bump against your stomach with every stroke.

You can tell he's getting close. His grip on your neck gets tighter and his kisses keep getting interrupted by his own moaning, groaning, and whining. Suddenly his hand stills and his head shoots back, his lips leaving yours and giving you great excess to his neck. Wet kisses litter over the underside of his jaw with the rare love bite here and there until his breathing steadies.

He looks back at you then, with so much kindness and admiration. His hand slides into your hair, gently running his nails over your scalp and pulling you close once more to press a sweet kiss on your lips. Then, things change very rapidly.

'Time for breakfast,' he says as he looks you in the eye with a mischievous grin. He flips you onto the bed with ease and makes himself at home between your thighs. 'No panties,' he asks with a quirk of his eyebrow. His arms wrap around your thighs, pulling them over his shoulder and your core closer to his face. Then he looks up at you expectantly, waiting for your consent.

Some voice inside your head is screaming in your ear to speak up and say yes, give him your enthusiastic consent. Another voice in your head is whispering in your other ear that it would be so much fun to hear him beg. Make him wait until he's completely pussy drunk without even touching it. The thought makes your head spin and you keep your mouth shut, your bottom lip securely between your teeth and a twinkle in your eyes.

'Come on sweetie, use your words,' he says, his voice wafering ever so slightly. He presses a kiss to your thigh, so close yet so far from where you want him. You keep quiet. 'You want me to beg for it?' There's a glint in his eye, something almost boyish, mischievous, teasing.

And then he bites your thigh. A gasp slips from your mouth, releasing your bottom lip from your teeth but you remain quiet. One of his arms lets go of your thigh. He moves it so that his hand is on your stomach, traveling up under your shirt, the tips of his fingers gracing your tits but not quite going far enough to hold them or play with them.

Sylus moves his head to your other thigh and begins his assault there. Biting, kissing, sucking your skin. A string of moans leaves your lips at the pleasure builds up between your legs. 'Pretty please,' he breathes out, barely holding it together. His eyes are back on yours, boring a hole in your soul before biting your thigh again.

'Yes,' you moan, 'please Sylus.' He dives in right away, licking a stripe up your slit then latching his lips on like he's kissing yours. The hand under your shirt moves to grab your tit, gently massaging it. You can tell he's done this before. The way he switches between licking and sucking on your clit makes you dizzy. You get close to a high faster than ever before.

Without really noticing it, your hand is in his hair, your hips grinding against his face, chasing a high that is coming towards you like a freight train, and all you can see is his eyes. His eyes watching you so attentively, noticing every buck of your hips, every moan, every whimper, every time your back arches. And he plays into it, following your lead.

Then you notice it. He's bucking into your mattress while watching you come apart on his lips. This turns him on as much as it does for you. Shit, how did he get this good?

Suddenly, the freight train crashes. Your hands pull at his hair, your back arches, your voice a blubbering mess of praise and appreciation. You feel your whole body shake and you see Sylus smirking at you while pressing kisses to your lower abdomen. He didn't even have to use his fingers, and you came undone for him like that.

Insane.

Sylus pushes himself up on the mattress and climbs over your body, leaning on his forearms so he is close enough to kiss you. You can taste yourself on his tongue. It's fucking hot and he seems so relaxed.

'Nap, then breakfast?' You look down at his naked form, admiring him one last time before disappearing under the covers again, and you notice that he came again. This time on top of your sheets. You feel strangely proud.

'Sure, but you're doing my laundry after.' He looks down at himself and the mess on the covers. With a sly look he comes down to you again, pressing another sweet kiss on your lips.

'I'll get you new ones.'

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