#they ain’t need to know shit about fuck

[darnell-la]

Dark-pervy!logan and human!fem-reader when he's being pervy and caught watching her masturbating in her own room. She already has a hubby but that didnt stop logan from wanting and stealing her from her current husband. Logan being kinda a homewrecker

note: send in some more needy, nasty, pervy, dark Logan…

———

Hearing her moans made him go wild. He wanted to barge in and use her, but he couldn’t. She was married, but at times, he didn’t care. Right now was one of those times.

“F-Fuck,” y/n cried low as she pushed the dildo in and out of her cunt. Her husband was demoted to his own room last week, and since then, he hasn’t proved his worth to be back in bed with her.

Everyone in the mansion knew he was a horrible husband, but the two have known each other for so long, that they just deal with it.

Logan, on the other hand, can’t few with it. He needed y/n, and that son of a bitch was keeping her away while doing absolutely nothing either her.

“Logan!” Y/n shouted as she saw Logan look through the crack in the door. The man had lost his mind in her moans that he didn’t notice the sounds of the door creaking.

“Fuck- Shit, I was just passing by, and-“ Logan didn’t know what to say as he opened the door. “Close the door, Logan!” She shouted again, upset that anyone who walked by could see her.

“Shit, okay,” Logan said as he stepped in before closing the door. “With you outside of it- Goddamnit, Logan!” Y/n stressed as she pulled her toy out of her cunt and placed it to the side.

“What the fuck is your problem!?” Y/n asked as she covered herself. Logan had no idea what to say, all he wanted was to see her naked, but now she was covering up.

“Logan!” She shouted to get his attention. “No- What the fuck is your problem?” Logan asked back, shocking y/n. “What?” Y/n slightly whispered as he made his way over to her bed.

Y/n backed up as he grabbed her dildo, then threw it across the room. What was his problem?

“What kind of wife leaves their door unlocked while they’re masturbating? You’re a fucking slut,” Logan spat, only confusing y/n even more. “You had to open my door-“ y/n was cut off.

“You know he’s not coming back up here, yet, you had your legs spread right in front of an unlocked door. Do you know how sick that is? Are you fucking serious, y/n?”

Logan had no idea what he was on about, but he knew some of it had something to do with his feelings. Why did she need a dildo when he lived right next door? Why was her door unlocked? It's unsafe.

“Logan-“ y/n tried saying, but Logan cut her off again. “Do you know how dangerous that is? Anyone could be in this mansion right now. You think they’ll take it lightly with your pussy speed on the bed!?”

Y/n was shocked by his words, slightly understanding where he was coming from, but she shook and felt uncomfortable that he was in front of her naked and half-covered body.

“Logan, can you please leave-“ y/n tried saying, but he slammed his hands on her bed. “Ian fuckin’ leaving, Bub. You’re not gettin’ out of this without being shown how dangerous this shit is,”

Logan quickly grabbed y/n’s ankles and pulled her to the edge of the bed. “Logan!” Y/n shouted as he pinned Y/n to the bed. “Shut it, y/n. I know you need this,” Logan whispered in her ear as he tugged on his own clothes.

“He hasn’t fucked you in days, Bub. I know how much you need it so- Stop!- Stop fuckin’ movin',” Logan pushed y/n’s face into her mattress to keep her down as he stroked his cock, making sure to get fully hard before he fills y/n.

“Logan, I can’t- I can’t do this to him. I-I’ve never cheated, and-“ y/n tried saying, but Logan cut her off with a few shushing and kisses.

“It ain’t cheatin’ is you don’t belong with him, Bub,” Logan said as his cock slid across her folds. “B-But, I am,” y/n said, tears forming in her eyes, but not from how he manhandled her, but from how she felt her cunt throb.

“No, you’re not, and I think you know that. Otherwise, you wouldn’t let me be on you like this,” Bellamy breathed into her ear as she grinned against her, wanting her to understand that she was his, not her husband's.

“Tell me you want me, baby. Do it, and I’ll make you feel so much better. I know you’re hurting, but I can help. You know I can,”

“Logan, I can’t- I can’t,” y/n moved under him, but with little effort. “Stop playing around, Bub. Wanna get in you before I cum,” Logan warned the feeling of her folds made him close.

“Logan,” y/n cried low as his tip pushed at her entrance. “Baby, Ima needa to hear it sooner or later,” Logan said as he finally pushed into her. The way y/n moaned made her feel like she’s never had a cock this great. Maybe she hasn’t, but she couldn’t admit to that.

“Oh, yeah — I know it feels good. So fucking good,” Logan teased as he thrust it on her slowly. He used his free hand to grab her neck as the other still pushed her head into the mattress.

“Logan,” y/n attached her hands to both of his wrists, pulling him closer to feel his body. “F-Faster, please,” all Logan did was groan before he began his brutal hip snaps.

“Look at you, takin’ my cock with your husband just a few doors down. What would he think? — Fuck it. Who cares. You’ve always been mine,”

[evilfloralfoolery]

Lights, Leather, Action!- Part One

Cold-ridden, snzy stripper shit coming your way lol.

Grimm and Indigo are sent on an undercover assignment where neither knows the extent to other's role.

Imagine Indigo's surprise when he's dropped off at the local strip club and his lover is the fucking entertainment. Neither is allowed to break character. Neither can risk allowing their connection to each other to be known. But there's no rule that says they can't pretend to get to know each other as "strangers."

And Grimm loves a fucking challenge. And he's just come down with a the most horrible cold. However will he manage being a sexy AF "stripper" with something like that? -dramatic music intensifies-

Grimm's dance is done to this version of this song.

_______________________________________

“This is absurd.”  Indigo finishes buttoning his shirt and glances over his shoulder.  “Why would I not be informed of the details of this mission?”

“Because,” Grimm says. “You gotta pretend you’ve never seen me before in your whole goddamn life.”  

He gives his reflection the once over and tucks a wayward strand of hair behind one ear.  Typical black t-shirt.  Ripped jeans. Same old boots.  Yep, Indigo wouldn’t suspect shit. 

Well, except for the fact that he is currently nursing one hell of a cold.  Which Indigo is, in fact, all too well aware of.  The man had been watching him like a hawk all afternoon. 

When he wasn’t forcing Grimm to drink whatever gross-as-fuck tea he’d concocted. Not that any of it had done a damn bit of good. Grimm’s voice already had plenty of gravel, but this is a new level of rough depth.  Probably not a bad thing, considering just what he was about to do.  

The near-constant prickle in his sinuses surges to a sudden burn and he clamps a hand over his mouth to muffle a shuddering “Hhkg–UHhSSCHu! –uuhHKGISCCHHshu!”

Damn. Should've grabbed a tissue for that shit.  Maybe a towel. 

“Bless you,” Indigo says, his tone a mix of exasperation, concern, and plenty of “come fuck me now.”

Which would have to wait.  

He does, however, pass Grimm a generous handful of tissues.  Because this ain’t something a handkerchief handle.  Needs a “once and done” kinda thing. 

“Thanks, Indy.” Grimm gives himself a much-needed sinus clearing and tosses it into the trash without so much as looking. “Look, I gotta go.  Rex is gonna drive you out there.”  

Indigo says nothing.  Looks cross as hell.  Grimm smothers a laugh into his palm.  Yeah, no surprise there.

“I’d say ‘don’t worry about it,’ but you’re gonna.”  He grabs his partner by the front of his belt and jerks him into a tight embrace.  “I’ve been doing this shit my whole life. It’s gonna be fine.” 

“I know that,” Indigo mutter-hisses into his shirt.  “It is your health that concerns me.” 

More chuckling. “It’s just a cold, Indy.  I ain’t dyin’.” 

“Yes, yes.”  Indigo fists a handful of the black fabric, tilts his face up to get a better look at Grimm’s expression.  “Regardless of that fact, I would much rather have you in my care.” 

“Uh huh.” Grimm smirks.  “I just bet you would.” 

Before he can so much as protest, Indigo has tugged him into a kiss that has a fuckton of heat and zero concern for catching whatever Grimm might actually have. 

“Go on, then.” Indigo brushes Grimm’s hair away from his face.  “Do as you must.” 

Oh, he would, alright. 

Grimm pulls at the fabric of Indigo’s gray trousers with a decisive snap.  “Hope you don’t like these pants.” 

______________________________

“Rex, where in the name of the gods have you taken me?”

While Indigo is more than familiar with the city and all of its grandeur, this is just beyond its limits, somewhere on the outskirts verging on questionable territory.

“You’re about to find out.”  Grimm's associate shuts the SUV off and grabs his keys from the console.  “Come on. Just pretend we’re two gay-as-fuck bros out for a good time.”

Indigo huffs. “You cannot be serious.”

“I’m so totally serious.”

“Great gods.” 

While Indigo has never entered such an establishment, he is aware of its purpose the moment his foot touches the inordinately tacky carpet.

Surely not.

“Rex.” Indigo grabs his arm and presses himself against the other man’s body so as to be heard over the booming absurdity attempting to call itself “music.”  “You cannot be serious!” 

“You said that already.” Rex runs a hand through his black and blond hair and offers him a lopsided grin.  “Come on, Indigo.  I’ll buy you a drink.” He throws an arm around his shoulders and leads him through the crowd.  “A strong one.”

Well, he would need more than that to cope with the barrage of sensory nonsense currently assailing him. Strobing, multicolored lights. Headache-inducing bass thumping through his entire being. Carpet that looked as if it had been designed by an acid user.  Not to mention the hoards of screaming women.  And more than a few gentleman as well.  To use the term loosely.

And enough naked male flesh on display from both patrons and dancers alike. 

Despite being dressed in casual modern clothing, Indigo himself feels as if he is on display, given the lurid gazes of those in the crowd.

“Don’t sweat it,” Rex says. “They just think you’re pretty.” 

Indigo doesn’t inform the man of what he truly sees.  Amidst the sweltering throng of humans are Others.  At least one for every ten humans.  An inordinate number gathered here, indulging in the perversion of sexual excess and libations. 

Behind the rims of his glasses, his eyes flash brilliant blue but for a moment before he stills his instinctual overdrive. He is here merely as an observer. A “human” observer.

Is Grimm posing as some sort of bouncer?  It was not as if he hadn’t done that manner of work before. 

Rex hands him some manner of clear liquid in a shot glass which he does not bother to consume.  The level of alcohol it would take to so much as touch his consciousness would cause the demise of several grown men. 

It takes him a moment to realize that Rex has guided him to the front of one of several stages, which was absolutely not where he wishes to be under any circumstances.  

“What in the name of the gods are you doing?” He starts to stalk in the opposite direction, but Rex clasps his wrist with a firm, decisive grip.

“Nope. We’re standing right here.” 

Indigo shoots him a look that could freeze lava. “I think not.” 

The deejay’s voice booms over the sound system, announcing the end of one dancer’s routine and welcoming another to the stage.

“Alright all you ladies and gents out there, we’ve got a debut performer for you tonight and goddamn, it’s a good one. Make some noise for Remmington Wolf!” 

Indigo rolls his eyes. Honestly, where did these men find these ridiculous–

The raucous, sexual noise of guitars assaults his ears, but it is not the ungodly noise that stops him short.

No, that would be “Remmington Wolf” swaggering onto the stage, clad in leather and straps.  

Indigo’s jaw nearly drops before he catches his composure in the midst of crumbling.

Grimm. 

Grimm, strutting across the stage like he owns it.  Grimm, ripping that black tank top from beneath the straps that cross over his extremely naked and tattooed chest.  

And approximately one hundred screaming humans suddenly crowding the stage from every angle. 

Great gods.

Grimm drops to the floor, his hips grinding suggestively against a shadow of nothing, body undulating in ways that were never meant for public consumption. A shower of money and frenzied attempts at touch surround him.  The “leather” pants are suddenly gone, ripped from his body much like the shirt and discarded who knows where, leaving him standing in the shortest excuse for black spandex shorts Indigo has ever seen. 

And the boots.  Knee high and covered in straps and buckles that match the ones criss-crossing his chest.  

It is then that his gaze locks onto Indigo and he drops to his knees, crawling towards him some sort of lurid predator intent on the certain demise of his prey. 

Sweat beads Indigo’s brow at the sexual slink of Grimm’s approach and he stands frozen, unable to retreat or react. Grimm rises to his knees and reaches for him, hand tangling in his hair, the roll of his hips an obscene invitation. 

Screaming, hormonal madness in every direction. Grimm’s face so intensely close to his, mere increments from his lips, that lascivious smile curving his mouth. Energy crackles between them, unseen to those around them, but clearly visible to Indigo.  

Grimm is a fantasy of leather and sex, his body bending in ways that Indigo did not think him capable of. 

He pulls back and rises to his feet, his wandering touch focusing on one of the many women absolutely begging for his attention.  Just for a moment. 

Indigo doesn’t miss the hesitation in his stride, the way he suddenly ducks into the crook of his elbow, the unmistakable shudder of those broad shoulders. 

Once. Twice. Thrice. 

Heat suffuses his entire being as Grimm’s wandering gaze targets him and that cocky smile curves one side of his mouth.

The bastard.  The absolute great bastard!

Everything about his partner has been reduced to strutting, undulant carnal deviance. And all Indigo can do is stare at him like one of the slavering buffoons stuffing handfuls of money down those indecorous shorts.

The music tapers to silence and the audience emits a collective shriek of inane delight worthy of several pairs of earplugs. 

Somewhere above it all, the deejay is rambling whatever drivel comes after a performance, but Indigo’s attention is locked onto his partner who is currently at the opposite end of the runway-like stage, running a hand through his sweat-dampened hair, laughing with raucous enjoyment over something a bouncer has said. 

It takes every ounce of control Indigo can muster not to part the crowd with his raging appetency and drag Grimm into the nearest corner and—

“You good?”  Rex nudges his shoulder and Indigo blinks, snapping back to reality.

“Yes,” he lies stiffly. 

Rex laughs. “No?”

Indeed not. Rex truly has no idea.

_____

Grimm pops the cap off of his third bottle of water and takes a deep swig. That had been a lot of damn energy.  Funny, because he doesn’t feel even a little bit tired.  

He should, though. Even if his cold was just some garden variety bullshit, that didn’t excuse him from the relentless symptoms.  

One in particular. 

He snatches a handful of napkins from the bar and barely manages to clamp them over his mouth and nose.

“---UHSCCHHHu! Hhh’uh-KGSSSCCHHuh!” 

Damn. Barely any warning. Maybe if it wasn’t so fucking cold in this place. A double whammy for sure.

He takes a moment to struggle into some actual leather pants, which doesn’t do a goddamn thing, but it doesn’t matter.  He’s got better shit to do.  

Making his way through an ocean of admiration is only moderately weird, but he’s interested in one particular target and that’s the one currently giving Rex an earful.  Fuck, he can only imagine. The kid is laughing, which probably isn’t the smartest thing, but at least Indigo doesn’t look too pissed.  “Frustrated” is definitely the best word for that look.  He’s seen it pointed at him more times than a firing squad.

As if sensing his approach, Indigo ceases whatever he’s dishing out to Rex and turns to face him, expression neutral, posture proper but deceptively normal.

Grimm isn’t buying it. Not for a second. 

He adopts all of the cocky bullshit he can muster and puts a deliberate swagger in his stride. 

Rex excuses the hell out of himself before Grimm reaches the edge of the table where neither Indigo nor Rex had actually sat, leaving Indigo to fend for himself against whatever advances he might make.  That is, if he tried to do that shit. 

“Hey.” He tosses his dark hair over his shoulders with all kinds of ridiculous finesse.  “Saw you watching.  You like what you see?”

Indigo arches one perfect eyebrow with such an air of boredom, Grimm almost buys it.  

Almost. 

“Perhaps,” he says. 

Hmm, he’s good. 

Grimm steps closer, the fingers of one hand grazing the sleeve of Indigo’s shirt with a feather-light touch. “You got a name?” 

His partner does not so much as flinch. “I do, but you may call me ‘Ice’.” 

Grimm almost chokes on the laugh that bursts out of him before he can even do a damn thing to stop it. “Hmmn, okay, Ice.” He lowers his head just a touch, a gleam in his eye. “Guess you heard who I was since you couldn’t take your eyes off of me.”

“I believe I missed it,” Indigo “Ice” says.  Like he’s so goddamn disinterested, he can’t stand himself.  

Well, now. This shit is gonna be fun. 

“Remmington,” Grimm says. “You think something that long will fit in your mouth, Ice?”

Indigo lifts his chin. “I suppose it would depend on if you prefer ‘Remming’ or not.” 

Did he just . . .

Grimm leans against the column beside the table. “You’re a real smartass, aren’t ya.” 

“You are not the first to accuse me of such a thing.”

Maybe Grimm would have said something equally smartassy back, but standing under an AC vent has won over a spicy comeback.  And this is way better.

He brushes a knuckled finger against his nose with a cringe, makes a show of standing there for a moment, fights against it with more visuals than necessary. Indigo’s gaze is cool and steady, his posture now straight, but not rigid.

Grimm’s expression begins the descent from brash to desperate, his breath hitching with an uneven, almost ragged stammer. 

“Hhh-huuh!  Hhuuh. . .! UHCHSSHu! Hkgh’UHSSCCH’u! —Uhh-KGSSSSSH!”  

To hell with covering. He leans to one side and gives Indy the full fucking show, right down to the full body shiver.  Which he can’t help anyway, but fuck it.

“Goddamn,” he says with a shake of his head. “Fucking freezing in hee-hhhuh! Hh–NXGT–shhuh!” He leans against the support pillar with a thick, congested sniffle.  “Fuck. Excuse me.” He flashes Indigo a lascivious smile. “Might have a cold or some shit.” 

“Bless you,” Indigo says with such polite indifference that Grimm laughs like a stupid asshole. “Perhaps this would be of some use to you?”

The icy bastard waggles a folded handkerchief at him, holding it between two fingers, and Grimm smirks. “You won’t want it back when I’m done with it.” 

“I had no intention of wishing for its return,” Indigo says.

Grimm takes a step towards him, his fingers sliding to clasp the thing, but caressing the edges of Indigo’s pale hand in the process, taking his time to pull it free of the proffering grip.  

Just in time, too. Grimm buries his nose in the folds with a dramatic disaster of an encore, doing nothing to stop himself from unleashing hell from whatever the fuck his sinuses are doing right now.

“UHHKGSSCH!-UHSSCHu! UHH-KGISSCHHUu! Good goddamn.” 

Indigo’s expression softens just for a split second and Grimm nudges the tip of his dress shoe with one boot. 

“Bless you,” Indigo says, the frost in his tone warmed for the briefest instant, a context clue no one but Grimm could possibly decipher. 

“Thanks,” Grimm says. He barely manages to stop himself from saying “Indy.” He recovers with another, more subdued nose blow and pockets the handkerchief.  “Wanna buy me a drink?”

Indigo “Ice” chuckles with a thread of something wild.  “I suppose I might.” 

(TBC....)

[draconicdeityarts]

It be like that

[pettytiredandjewish]

I can’t believe that I have to say this but I guess I have to (since I keep seeing people say this kind of sick shit on different social media platforms)…

The I/P war is not a Palestine holocaust. Okay?! It’s not even close to a fucking holocaust. It’s a really horrible war in which innocent people from BOTH sides have sadly lost their lives. This WAR would not have happened if Hamas didn’t attack Israel and killed/kidnapped a whole bunch of innocent people (Israelis and non-Israelis)… did yall forget Hamas started this fucking war?? Not only that but other terrorist organizations also decided to jump in and join in on the war to wipe out all of Israel. These fuckers AKA Hamas doesn’t care about their civilians. It’s been proven multiple times that Hamas uses their civilians as human shields. Those who tried to fight back were killed by Hamas.

It’s not a Palestine holocaust. The holocaust AKA the Shoah happened during WW 2 when the nazies wanted to kill all of European Jews. (Because surprise- us Jews were blamed once again for every single problem that was happening around that time- kinda like how we are now being blamed for what’s currently happening… history does love to repeat itself- I wonder why). Jews were sent to ghettos and camps (work and death camps) all throughout Europe. A majority of them were brutally murdered by the nazies. Those who escaped and survived the shoah either went to Israel or fled to other countries like the USA or Canada. I was lucky that my great grandparents fled before WW2 (they left Germany due to anti Jewish hate crimes that was getting worse and worse…). But sadly my other family members did not leave Germany/Poland and were sent to the camps. Only a few survived.

So for the love of- just please stop comparing this war to the holocaust. Okay?! Because it’s not. Holy fucking shit some of yall need to know your history….

[femme-enby]

What if I just go crazy. Absolutely bananas. Positively kookoo. Brazenly bonkers even.

[starlooove]

I already said this but if u make Aisha the tallest in ur fanart i hate u a lil

[bibleofficial]

ok so man that i hooked up w like 2 weeks ago that i wanted to see for like dates: cancelled. i’m bored of him 😭😭😭

[rosicheeks]

😓🤬

[peaceeandcoolestvibes]

.

[sapphic-storm69]

POV: you’re staring at the person who made the saddest, most depressing movie you’ve ever seen, into a meme

[lilgynt]

my male coworkers are fucking crazy it’s so funny this dude asked me what my plans for the day were and i was either knocking out or going to the movies and he’s like oh shit lemme hop on so i was like sure and we tried inviting our other coworker but blah blah im like we can plan for next week if it doesn’t work for her and he’s like nah we’ll just go then texts me while i’m driving home like actually i can’t see a movie alone with u it would need to be a group for my gf to approve HELP?

[randum-famdoms]

I can’t hate old people because I literally agree with them on shit. Like, I don’t need a fucking robot in my house listening to me? Why would I want an Alexa or Google home or whatever other shit like that exists. I literally have a fucking phone and fingers. It’s in my pocket or within reach constantly. I don’t need a smart home, I can get my ass up and turn my lights off and on. Seriously, we’re advanced enough as is.

I understand their uses in homes where individuals are more impaired, be it not being able to easily get up or having poor dexterity in their fingers (such as from dyspraxia, being a wheelchair user, etc). But I’m not. And most of the people I know with an Alexa/smart home/whatever also aren’t.

I don’t hate people who use things like that. I just don’t see the point and sometimes people look at me weird when I say I don’t see the point in it, and suddenly I get the urge to scream at them to get off my lawn despite being in a college classroom.

So yeah. Old people and I may not agree on everything, but in one thing we are united: judging the youths for their silly tech gadgets

[insanechayne]

~ ~ ~

[bluebellthesponge]

my friend saw trolls 3 over break and we were talking about it over lunch and then *tried* to sing better place and we were soooo in sync (hahaha) jk we were just playfully singing it, but omg i was so excited when she said she saw it, now she can understand my trolls references/singing references/random ass memes, anyways we listened to mount rageous today also during lunch, and then somebody else saw it over break as well and said that nsync appearing at the end reminded them of me

[lovelybucky1]

Ain’t as Good as I Once Was

warnings: old man!logan x AFAB!reader, riding, bratting, dom/sub dynamics, daddy kink, age gap, punishment, degradation, 18+ minors dni, divider from @strangergraphics

“C’mon, girlie, if you want it, you’re gonna have to take it yourself,” Logan’s gruff voice says from below you.

You’re sitting on his lap, trying desperately to fuck yourself on his cock as he sigs back and watches you. Despite your begging, Logan refuses to do the work for you.

“I’m too old for this shit. If you’re that fuckin’ horny, you can take care of it yourself,” he told you smugly.

You sank down on his cock and have been trying to bounce on it, but the strain on your thighs is too much to reach a satisfying pace.

“Please, Daddy, can’t you just fuck me?” you whine pathetically. Logan smirks a bit and chuckles through his nose.

“I ain’t as good as I once was, dollface. I doubt my old bones can fuck you the way you want me to,” he says, not seeming apologetic in the slightest.

You know he’s full of shit. He may be old and gray, but his healing factor keeps him in peak condition. He’d be able to fuck you just fine, he’s just a crotchety old man who wants to see you suffer for his entertainment.

He places a large hand on your hip and starts gently guiding you, urging you to rock back and forth. You follow his movements and while it’s better than what you were attempting, it’s still not what you want.

“You’re a spoiled fuckin’ princess, that’s the problem. So used to Daddy takin’ care of ya, you forgot how to ride, is that it?” Shamelessly you bite your lip and nod.

You wouldn’t call yourself spoiled. Well cared for is a better term. Logan never lets his girl go to bed unsatisfied, and now he’s suffering from the consequences of his actions.

“C’mon, flip me over and fuck me,” you say.

Logan raises an eyebrow at you.

“Who do you think you are, givin’ orders? If I want you to ride my cock, then that’s what you’re gonna do. You’re gonna fuck that pretty pussy with it until she’s had her fill.”

Logan lets go of your hip but you keep up with the same pace he set. With his hand now freed, he reaches over to the nightstand to grab his cigar and lighter. He lights up and smokes it as if he were at the bar, not in bed, deep inside his girl.

He looks up at you, bored, as smoke pours out of his mouth. You’ve been riding the edge of just enough for the past fifteen minutes and you’re getting increasingly frustrated with Logan’s lack of help. You briefly consider being more of a brat in hopes of egging him on enough to punish you with a hard fuck, but with the kind of mood he’s in, it’s likely that the punishment would be stopping entirely.

You let your head hang down as you brace yourself with your hands on his chest. The solid muscle covered in gray hair is hot, unnaturally so, under your touch and you desperately want to feel that heat on your back while he fucks you from behind.

“Daddy,” you plead quietly.

“What’s the matter, dollface?” he asks, playing dumb like the tease he is.

“I can’t do it.”

Logan smirks around his cigar like you just said the magic words he’s been waiting to hear this whole time.

“What’re you saying?”

You pout down at him. “I can’t make myself cum. I need you to do it for me”

Logan, surprisingly, grins at you. “Bet you regret calling me an old man now, huh?”

You furrow your brows in confusion, but you quickly realize what he’s talking about. Before this all started, you pounced on his lap and asked him to fuck you. He told you he was busy reading his book, and in your usual bratty fashion, you replied, “What, you can’t get it up, old man?”

“I didn’t mean it, Daddy,” you whine. “I swear, I was just teasing you.”

Logan hums but makes no effort to move. “Guess you better start behaving if you want something from me.”

“I promise I’ll be good. I won’t talk back anymore,” you attempt to bargain.

You both know that’s about as empty of a promise as you could give, but Logan doesn’t seem to care. He prefers when you’re trouble anyway; it’s the game you play. He’s the grumpy and mean and you’re the spoiled, demanding princess.

Logan stubs his cigar out in the ashtray on the nightstand and places both hands on your hips. He lifts you off of him with ease, something that never fails to amaze you, and sets you on the bed next to him.

He moves so he’s kneeling between your legs and holding them up around his waist, his cock lined up at your entrance.

“Spoiled fuckin’ rotten, you are,” he mutters as he pushes inside.

Logan always makes sure his girl goes to bed satisfied, no matter how much of a brat she is.

[lanabuckybarnes]

Sergeant’s Got You

18+ Minors DNI

You’re stressed, he knows exactly how to make you feel better.

Note: I was asked for something like this, so it’s heavy on the love for his dog tags

Pairing: beefy Bucky (but he’s got that fatws attitude) x reader

Warnings: Dom Bucky, basically smutty right from the get go, filthy buck, he has his metal arm (I’m a slut for it), you like Bucky’s dog tags, like really like them, Petnames: sweetness, sweetheart, sweet thing, sweetie, good girl, baby, a LOT of dirty talk, sergeant kink, sir kink, oral (M receiving), unprotected p in v sex, he’s rough, degradation, feral Bucky, squirting, creampie, aftercare.

Word Count: 3.2k *insert cat HUH sound*

You were stressed beyond belief. Your mission ended up having a few more loose ends than anyone was anticipating leaving you to pick up the pieces. Now you were finally back in New York and ready to punch the next person who pats your back sympathetically with a ‘you tried’ look on their face.

Just as you were contemplating boxing the cupboard in the kitchen than wouldn’t stay open two strong arms pulled you back and into a hard body.

“You alright sweetness?” Bucky spoke into the locks of hair at the back of your ear. His cologne had you relaxing already, the fingers on his right hand hitched up your shirt to rub soothing circles over your hip bone. What really got you was the subtle grind of his hips against your ass; he was a filthy shit, you loved it when he knew what you wanted.

You flipped your body around in his arms, your fingers running up from his abs to his soft chest until they wrapped around his neck. He smirked, he knew exactly what you wanted him to do but he was a tease, you had to tell him or he wouldn’t. It’s just the way the world worked for you sweetheart.

You surged forward, desperate for a taste of the cherry lips you missed so much. You hated to admit just how much the man in front of you affected you, how often on your mission your hand snaked down your body and in-between your legs at the photos Sam sent of your lost puppy husband, his wide back and tiny waist wrapped in that blue Henley that had the arms pulled up to his forearm revealing the long veins and thick structure underneath. You needed him, now.

He pulled back just as your lips brushed his, a dark smirk and a filthy blue colour surfacing in his orbs. Fucking tease.

“You know you gotta use your words sweetheart” One of his big hands, his metal one, landed on the back of your skull, the metal thumb dancing over your bottom lip before you sucked it into your wet mouth. He growled at the innocent look you gave him as your tongue flicked over the tip before poking out and running up the underside of the shiny plates.

He pushed down, holding your tongue in place as it travelled, drool dripping from the muscle but he didn’t care, the sight of the rivulets of saliva sliding down the silver had him harder than a rock. One of the most technologically advanced pieces of handiwork and you were sucking on it like a little slut, pathetic.

He had you in his room before you could even blink, the rough slamming of the door vibrating the wall he pushed you up against.

“You’re a little slut ain’t you? Sucking on my thumb like my cock, getting your drool everywhere, you’re so lucky I don’t make you clean it up” he spoke as he hastily pulled your shirt and his off, his dog tags jangling softly as they fell back into place between his huge chest. You moved like a magpie, gripping at the shiny metal tags, giving them a squeeze, his name imprinting for a second of the fat of your palm before letting them slip between your fingers.

He watched you, ever fascinated at just how worked up you got about him, but it was your love for his dog tags that had him curious. You always, without fail slipped a finger around them, whether it was when you pulled him close for a kiss or if your slept on his chest, one of your fingers slipped itself through the chain and held them close to your hand.

He wasn’t stupid though, he could practically smell when you soaked yourself, always conveniently after his swinging tags made contact with your chin or ran up the column in your spine, the way that little pussy tightened around him when the old metal swept over your lips, tapping your teeth as you moaned out in pleasure. It made him embarrassingly weak too.

“You want me to fuck you cute girl?” He groaned into the crook of your neck, his plush lips suckling obscene dark marks downward till he reached the crevice of your breasts, your legs wrapped around him tighter as his hand grazed over your sensitive sides to the meat of your tit, gripping it softly and flicking a warm thumb over your nipple. You jerked into him at the shock of pleasure, your hand carding through his waves of hair and pulling him close as worked on the underside of your other boob.

“Words Sweetheart, I need words” He knew it wouldn’t be long till you hit that sub space, the same thing always happened when you were stressed, you needed your big Sergeant to take the wheel, use you a little bit.

“Please” fuck the whimper in your voice had him grinding up into you, the scratchy fabric of his jeans meeting the barely their material of the shorts you wore under your gear.

“Please what sweet thing?” he moved to watch the deep colour of your eyes swim with lust, eradicating any stress they once held, he was doing his job.

“Please use me Sir” you whined, fingers wrapping around the chain of his dog tags again to pull him close, finally getting that kiss you so desperately needed. His left hand cupped your cheek, rubbing a thumb over the high point softly, a sharp contrast to the bruising kiss you had going on. Teeth clashed with teeth, soft whimpers falling from your lips as he pushed closer, flicking his tongue viciously with your much weaker one, running against the top of it and sucking once it gave up it’s fight. He pulled you in again, tender with his lips this time, enclosing your swollen ones with his, his tongue running over your upper lip soothingly.

“Fuck! You’re making me go crazy” he chuckled as he moved off the wall, backing himself up to the bed till his calves hit the frame. He sat down with both of you, your body straddling him, his right hand pushing you back and forth softly on his bulge. The lust in his eyes mixed with a softness as he looked up at you, his metal hand still on your face although now his shiny forefinger and thumb hooked onto your chin, pulling you forward for a kiss, and another, and another. You whined, you didn’t want kisses and grinding, you wanted him to blow your back out, use your pretty face, anything but this.

Seeming to sense your thoughts he stopped your movements, the right hand coming up to join his left on either side of your face.

“What do you want sweetheart? You want your soldier to ruin you? I can feel how hot you are on my dick… you want it bad don’t you?” You moaned at his words, dripping filthily from his tongue, he sure had a way to fuck you up without even pulling out his cock.

“Yes, yes please. Use me” he smirked, satisfied at your whimpered begging. With a click of his tongue and a flick of his eyes he had you manoeuvring onto your knees in front of him.

He was a sight, he looked carved from marble, each bend of his body, every nook and muscle and vein delicately etched into rock solid stone to be preserved for a lifetime. His bulge strained painfully against his jeans, angrily awaiting your slender fingers offering it reprise from its tight cell. You were glad to give it just that.

Clumsily, you fiddled with the thick belt around his waist, smiling in satisfaction when the rhythmic clanks finally hit your ears. You flicked the button open and were about to pull the zip of his fly when his hand stopped you.

“With your mouth sweetness” his lip caught between his teeth, a soft blush decorated his face and chest as he watched you. Your tongue ran up the metal, the slight tang hitting your tastebuds, you flicked the little tab until sat snug between your teeth and pulled it down slowly, each tooth of the zip clicking as it finally opened.

Once you were done, Bucky pushed the thick material down his legs with a relieved sigh, letting it pool at his ankles before flicking them off with your help. His hard-on raged against the soft grey briefs, a pool of darkness lay at the head, precum soaking through.

His hands met yours, pulling them up his thighs and hooking them around the waistband of his briefs. He smiles down at you, eyes crinkling and neck craned as he watched you both inch down his underwear until it caught on his tip, he hissed as the scratchy fabric pulled over his silky head before it slapped deliciously onto his public bone and stomach.

“God” he chuckled breathlessly at the feeling of finally being free “look at you drooling all over yourself for me, you want a taste sweet thing?” His metal fingers had wrapped themselves around the fat base of his length, pushing it forward till the spongy tip hooked onto your upper lip, his salty precum smearing over it like a x-rated lip balm.

You pecked the tip of his dick, the tip of your tongue barely poking him as you did. You moved down, lips brushing against every angry vein on his cock until you met the metal of his hand in which you slowly licked a thick strip back up until you swirled your wet muscle against his head relentlessly.

“Fuck sweetheart, good girl” he groaned, head lulling back as his hips jittered off the bed softly, pushing his head into your awaiting mouth. You sucked him in greedily, selfishly inhaling his thick musky scent that had your pussy drooling against your lace panties, threatening to spill into your shorts— you didn’t doubt that if he had you naked, your essence would drip all over the wood of the floor— he’d have a field day making you clean it up.

“God you’re so good, ha— making your soldier feel so good, you like your sergeant all needy? Ready to pull you up off that floor and sink my cock into you” You moaned against his length, gagging softly when he jerked up into the back of your throat.

“Shit, Nuh uh get up here, I wanna cum in that pretty pussy, move come on” He pulled you up and off his length like you weighed nothing at all, his fingers ripping the shorts from your body and only stopping when he caught a glimpse of you’re soaked panties.

“Fuck girl, who’s got you like this hmm?” His thick thumb brushed small circles over your neglected clit. You moaned loudly, jerking off the bed with a shudder at the feeling, more of your slick pooling into your already soaked gusset.

“Mmm I can fucking smell you, smell so good baby… bet I could fuck you without prep, you want that?” He spoke, his voice deep, laced with primal lust— nothing like the composed grumpy old man everyone else saw— no, he was raw, unhinged, pupils blown wide with sexual desire. You wanted nothing more than his cock in you.

“Please Buck, just your cock I don’t care just please” you cried when he pushed particularly hard on your aching nub, your knuckles turning white as you fisted then covers beneath you; your legs shook as they threatened to close on his thick forearm, you were close already but you didn’t want to cum without him filling you out.

He gleamed at your form, fucked out, soaked and crying already— he’d barely fucking touched you— he couldn’t wait to see your face as he fucked you raw.

He ripped your panties with renewed vigour, the ruined material pulled away from your sensitive heat to hang around the your ankle that now sat over Bucky’s muscular shoulder. Your thigh quaked softly at the stretch but his cold digits ran softly against the tight muscle, soothing it for the time being.

His fat head tapped against your clit, each wet slap causing your body to twitch off the bed at the electric jolts of pleasure it sent up your spine. You could feel Bucky’s fingers circling your entrance, two of his thick fingers squishing into your tight hole as he prepped you lightly. When they left, a long line of arousal followed, connecting him to you, he growled at the sight before licking the wetness from his rough palm and middle finger.

“Mmm so sweet, if I wasn’t so fucking horny I’d make you cum all over my face… make you soak my mouth, shit” he was talking more to himself than you but you clenched around nothing at the thought, the thought of him eating you out for hours was not impossible, he’d done it before.

His thick tip drooling against your entrance pulled you from your trance, he pushed softly, hooking his head along the tight rim of your pussy as he stared up at you.

“you ready sweet thing?” He leaned over, right hand resting against the side of your head, his thumb flicking stray tears from your cheeks. You nodded softly, eyes unmoving from him, watching as his lips twitched in pleasure as his head popped into you, each inch dragging in slowly, aided by your soaked folds.

You moaned pathetically, his head running over your g-spot had you clenching around him, your orgasm hitting you quickly, your hands tightening painfully against the sheets as white hot pleasure soaked through your nerves. Everything was tingling, flashes of colour dancing over your closed eyelids.

Bucky wasn’t much better as he watched you, having to will his own orgasm down at the sight of you losing yourself over him already. You were a fucking sight to him, your tits bouncing with each sharp breath you took, mouth hung open allowing each whimper or silent scream to escape unabashedly.

“Ohh good girl, that’s it mmmm shit you’re fucking clenching me tight baby” Bucky mumbled, words falling from his lips in verbal mush, his own mind barely keeping up. When you finally came down from your high you open your eyes to look up at him, a shy little smile playing on your lips at the way he bore down at you.

“I’m so-“ you began but he pushed forward, sucking up your moan at the feeling of him hitting your cervix into his mouth.

“Don’t you dare be fucking sorry for that sweetheart, you hear? Fucking almost made me cum like a fucking teenager again, naughty girl ain’t you? I fucking love you” His hot breath panted against your lips as he growled at you, the last thing he wanted was for you to feel ashamed about the pleasure you were feeling. You blushed deeply, it was quite funny just how much his love for you made you blush, even when he was currently pushing against the deepest parts of you.

“Can I move baby?” He asked against your lips, smiling satisfyingly as you nodded before planting a wet kiss on your lips and pushing himself up.

He started slow, letting each vein pull against every nerve in your heat, his teeth clenching at just how tight you’d squeeze every time his head brushed against your sweet bundle of pleasure. His smooth pace never lasted long though, his hips jerked violently against you once he deemed you ready enough, your body slipping up across the sheets at each slam of his hips against your thighs.

He was leaning over you now, your leg pushed up between both your bodies, his dog tags clanging above your face at each jerk of his body. You reached a hand up, encircling the darkened metal, pulling on it as your body twitched with hints of a second orgasm.

“Shit! You like when my fucking tags hang over your face, fucking little slut aren’t you? You like being fucked like this? your sergeant fucking all that stress away? Mmm god, maybe I’ll put them around your neck next time hmm? Have you wear them when you’re riding me, let them fucking swing between those tits— god you’d love that” Bucky rambled, on and on, thrusts becoming sloppy as you clenched around him for the umpteenth time, only this time your orgasm slammed into you like a freight train, you could feel yourself soaking Bucky’s dick and thighs— probably soaking the already destroyed sheets below you.

With one final thrust Bucky’s moan caught in this throat as he pushed himself the deepest he could go, hot cum soaking your cervix and pushing out against his length to run along your folds, mixing with your juices. His legs give out forcing himself against you even more, pulling a pained whine from you at the feeling. As your orgasms settled, your breathing slightly less laboured although still heavy, you pulled him close by his tags, kissing his blissed out face right on the lips.

“You were so good for me sweet thing, so fucking good” he praised, his metal hand running through your tangled hair, soothing your heated scalp.

He leaned back up with a groan, massaging your aching leg as he pulled it from his shoulder before slipping out of your pussy. You both moaned at the loss, your heat clenching against nothing as his cum slipped from your body in waves. He couldn’t tear his eyes from your heat, tongue poking out to wet his lips as he watched intently. You giggled shyly at his intense expression, your aching legs closing softly in embarrassment much to Bucky’s dismay.

“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up” he smiled, wrapping his arms around you and lifting you to the bathroom. You snuck a glimpse of the sheets as he carried you, the whole area soaked in a mixture of you both.

“Oh my god” you whispered in disbelief against his head.

“What?” He replied as he set you down and began running a bath.

“The sheets are ruined, I can’t believe I did that” you eyed his naked frame from behind, his wide back flushed red but still absolutely stunning, each muscle rippling as he moved methodically, his small waist directing you to his thick globes. It was then Bucky turned to look at you, catching you ogling at his ass, he laughed when you turned quickly.

“It makes me proud when I look at those sheets, I mean who else can make you squirt like that? Fucking no one” he growled the last part against your lips giving you a quick smooch before turning the water off and lifting you both into the hot bubbled water.

His hands massaged your shoulders, working out the knots from your activities as well as any left over stress from your mission, not that there was any after he fucked it out of you.

You two sat in silence, save for the occasional sigh you let out when he hit the right spot, both savouring each other’s presence, reminiscing on the way you exhausted each other. You laugh when you remember his words.

“What? what’s got you all giggly?” he asked, nipping the skin on the nape of your neck.

“Nothing… just… were you being serious?”

“About what sweetheart?” He eyes you curiously.

“About letting me wear your dog tags” you suppress a smirk as you feel him twitch against your back, obviously your words sparking something in him.

“We’ll discuss it later” he rasped causing you to laugh out loud.

Your week had been stressful, with never ending problems and constant nagging from the higher ups to do the job but when you were in Bucky’s embrace, when you had those dog tags between your fingers or dangling over your face, everything melted away into nothingness, leaving you and Bucky alone.

-

So I lied mwahahahaha, I was going to post it yesterday but I love alcohol so I was drunk but here we are.

I’m a little nervous to post this one idk why.

I hope you enjoyed x

(I do not own any of the photos, credits to original owners)