#v;DoW | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lubdubology · 17 days ago

Text

When Things Turn Green Again

SYNOPSIS: Hoping to mend the pain of your broken heart and bury the memory of your failed marriage, you turn towards the woods. A cabin was left in your name and it’s the exact distraction you were looking for. What you didn’t anticipate is meeting a quiet, ruggedly handsome man along the way who helps you heal.

PAIRING: Logan x fem!reader

WC: 11k

WARNINGS: smut 18+; mdni; angst; mentions of cheating/divorce; emotional trauma; fluff; sexual innuendos; brief mentions of drinking; dirty talk; slight dom!Logan; oral (f receiving); fingering; doggy style; cock warming; sex with feelings; unprotected p in v

A/N: I pictured either Origins!Logan or Wolverine!Logan, but I think you can envision any Logan you’d prefer. And again thanks to @joelsgoldrush for the support through writing this ❤️ I really do love this piece I wrote and I hope you do too. Feedback is always welcome and appreciated! And thank you to everyone who has read, commented, liked and reblogged both Soft Edges and Til The Sun Turns Black—I never imagined either of those stories reaching over 1k notes.

The gravel crunches under your tires as you roll down the long driveway. Memories bloom deep in your chest as you near the cabin, of times simpler than this, unburdened by trappings of real life. You spent your formative years out here in the woods with your grandfather. Summers spent learning how to fish on the lake; how to recognize the poisonous berries from the nonpoisonous ones; and making fires, roasting marshmallows long after the sun had gone down.

Your grandfather had helped build this cabin. He’d always preferred the outdoors and solitude from people—with the obvious exception of your grandmother and mother—and he’d often come here to escape. Especially after he lost them both.

The cabin comes into view through the trees just starting to unfurl their spring foliage. Patches of snow still dot the landscape but the wet brown of winter is losing to spring’s verdant hues. The structure has seen better days, last having been lived in over ten years ago.

A stab of regret pierces your chest. The cabin was willed to you when your grandfather died, but this was your first trip up here since the funeral. You planned to, of course, but as the old saying goes, life happened. Now, you’re hoping the old place can give you something to sink your energy into besides thinking about your failed marriage.

You park the truck and step out, surveying the property. The shrubs and flower beds are overgrown and choked with old growth and weeds. Years worth of leaves rest upon the roof and clog the gutters. The front porch has several loose or missing spindles and you’re almost afraid to step up onto the old boards. Proving yourself right, the wood groans and creaks beneath your feet, certain spots threatening to give way.

“That’s going to be a fun project,” you mutter to yourself.

Opening the front door, you’re met with the damp mustiness of a long closed up space. A layer of dust seems to coat nearly every surface and cobwebs linger in the corners. You’re hoping the repairs needed inside the cabin are more cosmetic than costly.

You open up the old blinds, letting the early morning light filter in the room. It’s not a large space, an open kitchen, living room and dinning area with separate bedroom and attached bathroom. A small set of steps leads up to a loft, which also doubles as a sleeping space or bonus area.

You unload your belongings from the truck, tucking them away inside the bedroom, before opening all the windows to let in the fresh air. Thankfully, the glass and protective screens are in relatively good repair—a few need replacing, but an easy enough job. You feel a sense of purpose flourish within you, something you haven’t felt for months and you wonder if this is just the reprieve you need to find yourself again.

+++

You spend the morning taking inventory of the repairs needed around the cabin to make it immediately livable. Jotting down a list of supplies, you hop in your truck and head into town to hit up the hardware store.

The owner, George, recognizes you from previous trips with your grandfather when you were younger. He greets you warmly and helps you find everything you need. As you’re checking out, he asks, “Run into Logan yet?”

“Logan?”

He nods his head. “Shares a property line with you. Has a cabin of his own just about a quarter mile north of yours. Asked him to keep his eye out on the place.”

“Oh, well, that was nice of him,” you comment, stuffing your receipt in your purse.

George shrugs. “Figured it would give him something different to do. Doesn’t interact much with people.”

“Guess I’ll just have to introduce myself then,” you say, lifting your bags up off the checkout counter.

“Good luck with that,” George responds with a huffed laugh. “He’s not one for small talk.”

You give George a polite smile and leave the store, bags in hand. But the conversation sparks your curiosity and you find yourself thinking of the man who shares the woods with you. You promised yourself once you were settled, you’d make the short hike towards his place and introduce yourself.

Arriving back at the cabin, you park the truck and hop out, stopping short when you spot a lone figure walking around from the back of your property. You can’t stop the prickle of anxiety that zips up your spine as the figure comes closer, but he doesn’t see you yet, his eyes on the ground as he walks.

You shut the truck door with more force than necessary, the sound echoing off the trees. He looks up then and you suck in a short breath as his rugged features come into view—well trimmed but scruffy beard, wild dark hair and a fit muscular frame you can see even under the flannel of his shirt.

Butterflies flutter in your stomach and you can’t remember the last time you’ve felt like this. You can feel a blush creep across your face and you grip the bags in your hands tighter just to feel something other than the hammering of your heart in your chest.

He stops short of where you’re standing and jerks a thumb behind him. “Turned your electrical breaker on,” he says without introduction and you can only stare at him.

“Oh,” you say dumbly. “I, uh—thanks.”

He tilts his head and looks at you and you feel like you’re on fire under his glare. It’s an inquisitive one, like he can’t quite figure out what you’re doing in a place like this and you shift uncomfortably under his gaze. And yet, you don’t want him to stop looking at you.

“Right,” he says, reaching into the pocket of his jeans for something. He fishes out a key and holds it in your direction. “This is yours.”

You shift the bags, so you’re holding them all in one hand and reach for the key. Your fingertips brush against his just briefly, but it’s enough to set sparks along your skin and you can feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. As he steps back from you, you blurt out your name and then immediately wish for a swift death at your awkwardness.

God, this was embarrassing.

It’s like you’ve never interacted with humans before.

He gives the barest hint of a smile. “Logan.”

“Nice to meet you, Logan,” you say, just so you can taste his name in your mouth.

Logan nods and turns to head down the path that leads away from your cabin and deeper into the woods. You watch him go, his figure fading further into the distance and you can’t help but think, I’m in trouble.

+++

You spend the rest of the day keeping busy around the cabin—wiping down dusty surfaces, sweeping up cobwebs, replacing broken light bulbs—but your mind never strays far from Logan and the inexplicable pull you have towards him.

You’ve dated. You were married. You weren’t a stranger to the opposite sex and physical attraction, but this felt like more. Like an unavoidable pull between you and him and you’ve just been spun into his orbit.

And that attraction terrifies you.

Over the next few days, you try and shove him from your mind. It helps that you haven’t seen him again, but your eyes inevitably dart towards the path leading away from your cabin as if you’re expecting him to come walking through.

Then, the idea comes to you late one night as you’re sitting in front of the fire, watching the flames lick higher. No matter how hard you had tried, Logan remained firmly planted in your mind, his roots stubborn and unyielding.

Your grandfather always said your grandmother’s cooking was always something that warmed his heart.

But as you walk the small path towards Logan’s property you briefly wonder if you’ve lost your mind. You carry the small pie dish in your hands and as his cabin grows closer you’re actually contemplating turning back and forgetting the whole thing.

Who the hell bakes pies for people any more?

His cabin is smaller than yours, a little more rustic and worn, which seems fitting based on the little you know about him. Several piles of firewood line the roofed porch and at the opposite end, a single chair and table sit in front of the window. With one last shaky inhale, you climb the steps and rap your knuckles against the door. From inside you hear heavy footfalls and then the door opens.

Logan looks down at you and then towards the dish in your hands, an odd expression crossing his handsome features.

“I made you a pie,” you blurt unceremoniously and you instantly wish for the ground to open up and swallow you whole.

Logan just continues to stare at you and you think you see the slightest twitch at the corner of his mouth. But maybe not.

“I, uh, my grandfather lived in the cabin next to yours and it’s mine now. I’m fixing it up, because…well, just because and he taught me to pick berries as a kid? So, I did that and I made you this,” you finish in a ramble, flames of embarrassment licking across your skin.

Jesus fucking Christ.

His eyes flick down at the dish in your hands again and you hold it up a bit higher, nudging it closer towards him. As he reaches out to take it, his fingers brush against yours and you again feel electricity tingle down your fingertips. If he notices it too, he says nothing, not that he’s said anything since you showed up on his porch.

Logan tucks the dish closer to his body and gives you a slight nod. You take that as a good sign and step back to leave. “Okay, cool, cool. Well, um, enjoy. I made sure all he berries were the edible ones so you don’t end up throwing up everywhere.”

At that he actually huffs a chuckle. “Good to know,” he finally says, his voice warm and rich and just a bit gruff.

“Right, well, enjoy!” You turn to leave and can feel his stare against your back and it takes all your remaining functioning brain cells to walk normally.

You spend the next few days trying to forget all about your ill-fated attempt to play neighbor, figuring if he didn’t want to know you before, he definitely didn’t after that.

You’re coming back from a hike when you spot Logan through the trees walking away from your place, hands tucked deep within his pockets. Your heart quickens in your chest as you walk up to the front door and find the baking dish sitting on the old welcome mat. It’s freshly washed with a folded up piece of paper sitting inside—Thank you.

You’re certain your smile could rival the light from the sun.

+++

It becomes a routine over the next few weeks—you bringing him food and him returning the dish, all without exchanging any words. You’re thankful he’s not much of a talker because you can’t seem to stop making a fool of yourself around him.

And you don’t know why.

He’s a handsome man, that anyone can see, but you’ve never been so flustered around a beautiful man before.

There’s something else about Logan you can’t pinpoint that sets your heart fluttering behind your ribs. He seems lonely in the same way you are, and you wonder if he’s out here to lick and heal old wounds just like you. You have an inexplicable want to help him, even if that means sharing your food leftovers with him and trying to chip away at the wall that surrounds him.

A part of you is hoping he can help break down your walls, too.

You’re waist deep under the kitchen sink when a knock on the door drags you from fixing the leaking drain.

“Ah, fuck,” you curse, trying to maneuver out of the space while also not spilling the stagnant water left in the sink trap. As you set the old drain down you call out, “Just a second!”

You wipe your hands against your thighs and swing the door open to find Logan standing there, your glass baking dish from yesterday in his hands. For a second you blink silently at him, unable to think of anything but the fact that you’re wearing grease stained overalls and probably smell like a swamp.

“Logan, hi,” you finally say, brushing your hair out of your face.

He gives you a strange look as he hands the dish back to you. You open your mouth to speak when he interrupts you, “Why do you feed me?”

His question hangs in the air and you freeze. Of all the things he could have asked, you weren’t sure why you didn’t expect that one. His voice is a little gruff, but underneath there’s something that makes your heart race. Something vulnerable.

You swallow and grip the edge of the glass dish. Logan stares at you, his gaze intense, and you feel exposed. Like he’s trying to dissect you with just a look.

“Oh, well, I don’t know,” you finally admit. “You just…seem like you could use some kindness.”

He raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t say anything else. The silence stretches between you, heavy and charged, and you can feel your pulse quicken. “I can stop if—if you want.”

“No,” he says, his voice rough, but with an undercurrent of tenderness. “No, you don’t have to stop. Just not used to people doin’ things like that for me.”

His admission catches you off guard being the first real piece of personal information he’s shared with you. You’ve gleaned certain things from George—he’s told you about Logan being a mutant and a few pieces of his past—but you know there’s still a world of history hiding behind his loner facade that he keeps hidden. You’re hoping eventually he lets you take a peak inside.

“Everyone deserves kindness, Logan,” you say.

His gaze flickers, a shadow of something crossing his features that makes your heart ache. He shifts on his feet and stares down at the dish in your hands. “I’m not so sure of that,” he replies.

“Well, I am.”

Logan’s eyes drag back up to yours and you try to calm the nervous energy that bubbles under your skin as his stare presses into you. He gives you a small nod then before turning to leave.

He pauses as he hits your driveway and looks back at you, cursing lowly to himself. Scratching at the back of his head, he walks back up the steps and pulls something out of the pocket of his jacket. “I, uh, here,” he says uncertainly as he hands you the small cloth bag.

You can only stare as you take the bag from him, the gift surprisingly light in your hand, but the gesture heavy with unspoken emotion. Your mind races as you think of what could be inside and your heart hammers loudly in your chest.

Logan stands there, eyes not quite meeting yours as he waits for you to open it. Your fingers tremble slightly as you undo the drawstrings and peer inside, finding a mixture of different seeds. You can’t help but trail your fingers through them, feeling the faint warmth they hold from where they were nestled against Logan’s body.

“Oh, Logan,” you murmur, your voice thick with emotion.

You glance up at him and he’s looking at you, scratching at his beard, the faintest hint of blush staining his cheeks. “They’re wildflowers. Don’t know what kind. But, I dunno. I thought you could use them for your garden.”

Your chest tightens as you pull the strings close and tuck the bag in your pocket. “I love them, Logan,” you say, offering him a smile. “Thank you.”

For a moment, you see the tension in his shoulders relax just a bit as he exhales. “Just seemed like something you’d appreciate,” he mumbles, more to himself than to you.

Something has shifted between you and you find yourself itching to touch him, but you don’t. Not yet. The thread holding you two together is there, but thin, and you don’t want it to fray. “I really do appreciate it,” you say softly, stepping just the tiniest bit closer.

Logan nods and his mouth tugs into something that’s not quite a smile, but close. He looks at you for a long moment, the weight of his gaze pressing into you. “Okay. Good.” Shoving his hands in his pockets, he turns and jogs down the steps.

“Guess I’ll see you around then,” you call after him, a smile spreading across your face.

He glances back over his shoulder. “Yeah. I guess you will.”

And maybe, just maybe, the walls around him are beginning to crumble.

+++

Sweat beads across your brow as you work, but you pay it no heed. Your attention keeps slipping to Logan as you pry another nail loose from the rotted board. You’ve fallen into an odd relationship with the elusive man whose property line you share, yet you still barely know anything about him.

It’s been a week since he stopped by and gave you those wildflower seeds. A warmth still spreads in your chest when you think about it. And true to his promise, you do see him around, albeit not as much as you’d like. He seems wary, as if his gift opened up a part of himself he wasn’t ready for you to see.

But at least he doesn’t drop off your clean dishes and run anymore.

As you pry the last nail free, the rotten board comes free and you toss it down onto the grass along with the others. Thankfully, the porch isn’t terribly large and you figure another hour or so to remove the remaining boards before you can start laying down fresh lumber.

The crunch of gravel pulls you from your work and you look up to find Logan walking down the path, a large leather bag in his hand. You look up at him, wiping the sweat off your brow and lean back onto your heels, trying your best not to stare at his forearms.

“Oh, hey, Logan,” you say, wiping your hands against your jeans as you stand. “What brings you to my side of the woods?”

He actually smiles at you and nods towards the porch. “Need help?”

You hate the little flutter you feel pressing against your ribs. “I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

“Well, it’s good thing you’re not asking. I’m offering.”

You blink, caught off guard by his directness. “Oh, well, if you insist,” you say, trying to calm your nerves. “It would be nice to have a second set of hands.”

He sets the leather bag down on the porch with a thud and you catch a glimpse of the tools nestled inside. Logan notices you looking and comments, “I know a few things.” His smirk makes your legs feel like jello.

“Oh, I bet you know a lot of things,” you blurt, and your eyes widen at the double entendre of your words, heat flushing across your face.

Logan laughs, a real laugh, his eyes crinkling. “Well, it’s always good to be well educated,” he says with a wink.

Fuck, you feel like you’re going to spontaneously combust.

Shoving down your raging embarrassment, you lay out your plan to fix the porch and Logan gives a small nod. He starts at the opposite end, prying loose the first board with ease. You try not to stare at the way his muscles move and how his skin begins to slick with the first beads of sweat. You work in silence for a while, the only sounds those of the forest around you.

“So, what actually brought you out here?” Logan finally asks.

You glance over at him and watch as he tosses another board onto the grass. He looks at you expectantly and you sigh. “I got divorced,” you answer honestly. “And I needed something pour my energy into other than wondering where the fuck I went wrong.”

You can’t bring yourself to look at him, your openness leaving you feeling raw, and instead focus on the board in front of you. Anger begins to simmer in your veins at the thought of the last couple of years and you grab the next plank with just enough force to wedge a splinter deep into your palm. A loud curse falls from your lips as you drop the board.

You feel Logan next to you and you suck in a deep breath as he reaches for your hand, his fingers curling around yours. “Lemme see,” he says, pulling you close and you can smell the earthiness of him, like damp soil and campfire smoke. You find yourself staring at him, his proximity intoxicating, as you drink in his long lashes and the slope of his nose.

He tilts your palm towards himself, his fingers pressing gently yet with firm enough pressure to push the splinter out of your skin. Pulling it out the rest of the way, his eyes flick up to yours. “Somehow I don’t think you’re the one that fucked up, sweetheart.” His voice is warm and you want to melt into him.

“Well,” you start, clearing your throat, “I certainly wasn’t fucking his mistresses.”

Something in his eyes darkens and a shiver runs down your spine. “He’s a fool for losin’ you,” he growls, and his words hit you with more force than you’d care to admit.

His hand still lingers on yours, steady and reassuring and warm and for a moment you think he might lean closer. You desperately want him to. To press his mouth against yours, to feel his breath against your skin, to have his taste against your tongue. But he pulls back, his expression one of thin control, but you can see the storm behind his gaze.

“A damn fool,” he mutters under his breath and you can’t help but wonder if he’s talking about himself or your ex.

Logan lets your hand go, turning back towards the porch and you mourn the loss, your skin still tingling from the contact. You swallow hard, trying to shake off the intensity of the moment. It’s Logan—quiet, gruff Logan, who never really sticks around for a real conversation and yet here he is, offering help and showing that maybe he’s not entirely as unaffected by you as you thought.

Your heartbeat drums in your ears as you watch him go back to work, prying up the next board, his muscles flexing beneath his worn shirt. His jaw clenches and there’s a focused determination in his movements and you can’t tell if he’s working out some anger or trying to keep himself in check.

You work in silence for several more minutes, the only sounds being the prying of loose boards and creaking lumber. There’s a tension between you now, more so than there was before, something palpable.

It’s enough to drive you mad.

“What about you?” you finally ask, your voice somewhat hesitant. “You don’t talk about yourself much.”

Logan glances at you from the corner of his eye and his brow furrows, as if he’s weighing whether or not to answer. “Not much to tell,” he grunts, pulling up another board with more force than necessary.

“Somehow, I doubt that. You don’t just wake up one day alone in the woods with forearms like that.”

Logan looks over at you and smirks. “Maybe I’m just really good with my hands.” His voice dips low and you can’t help the warmth that pools low in your belly at his words.

You swallow, your throat suddenly dry. “Yeah, no…yep. I’m starting to figure that out.”

He’s silent for a few moments as he goes back to work and the air between you hums with something charged. “You really want to know?” he asks, his voice rough. “I’ve been around for too long, longer than anyone should. Done things I’m not proud of.” He tosses another plank aside and all you can do it watch him. “I’ve…I’ve hurt people I care about. People I’ve cared about have hurt me. I’m not really sure I belong anywhere, so I just…drift.”

There’s something raw in his voice, something broken and vulnerable, and it catches you off guard. For all his outward strength, there’s man deep down inside who’s lost, and your heart aches for him.

“You belong here,” you say softly.

He doesn’t look at you, but you can feel the tension shift as the weight of your words settle between you. Another board gets tossed aside. “Yeah, maybe.”

He finally raises his gaze to yours and for a moment the world quiets—the forest, the porch, all of it—as his eyes lock onto yours and his expression softens. You offer him a warm smile and then return back to the porch, hesitant to push him any further.

You work comfortably together after that. The old boards removed, Logan helps you place and nail down the new ones. Your conversation is limited to the project, but you don’t mind.

As Logan packs up his tools, you glance over at him. “Thank you.”

A half smile plays at the corner of his mouth. “You’re welcome,” comes his reply as he steps off the porch and heads down the path back towards his cabin.

“Logan!” you call, lightly jogging after him before he slips out of view. He pauses and turns back towards you. “Can I make you dinner?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Haven’t you already been doin’ that?”

“No,” you say shaking your head, “I mean, yes, I have, but like a proper dinner? Fresh from kitchen to table. I can come by you, if you’d like.”

Logan studies you for a moment, his gaze intense and you can feel your heart beating against your ribs. He’s silent for so long you wonder if you’ve overstepped and you open your mouth to speak when he says, “Alright. Come by tomorrow, six o’clock.”

You can’t stop the smile that spreads across your face. “Tomorrow it is.”

+++

You’re up before the sun, your nerves a tangle of raw edges. You lay there, staring at the ceiling and wondering what the fuck you’ve gotten yourself into.

You weren’t expecting to meet someone out here in the woods. You were hoping for tranquility, a distraction to quiet the voice in your head that kept nagging you for how your life veered off course. That maybe if you worked more, did more, loved more you wouldn’t be a thirty year old divorcee.

Instead, you find a mysterious man who sparks within you a flame you long thought extinguished. A ruggedly handsome man who’s somehow wormed his way into your life and has you wondering if maybe he can’t help mend the pieces of your broken heart.

Except you don’t know if that same spark is ignited within him and if his gesture of dinner is simple kindness. A response to the kindness you’ve shown him over the last two months or if he’s feeling that same attraction you do.

God, you hope he does.

You spend the morning cleaning, trying to pour your nervous energy into something productive other than worrying about what the evening may bring. Driving into town, you agonize over what to make even though he’s been eating what you’ve made without complaint for weeks now. You opt to keep it simple—pasta with homemade meat sauce, a nice loaf of bread and a couple bottles of wine.

While the sauce is simmering on the stove you get ready. You dress for comfort, a simple pair of leggings and a flowy top that hangs slightly off your shoulders. You catch your reflection in the mirror and give yourself a silent nod of encouragement. Despite this just being dinner, the night brims with the possibility of maybe something more.

Once the food is prepared, you carefully pack everything in a large basket and begin the walk to Logan’s cabin. The night is cool, but still holds the warmth of day and the promise of summer to come. You feel your anticipation heighten the closer you get to his place and your stomach drops when you see it appear up ahead.

It’s just Logan, you remind yourself.

Stepping up onto his porch, you give a hesitant knock at the door. He greets you almost instantly and you suck in a deep breath. Logan looks good and your heart does a flip as you take him in—well fitting jeans, a clean white shirt underneath a soft red flannel button down, his hair is still slightly damp from a shower.

“You’re early,” he comments, standing aside to let you in. You catch the slight frown tug at his mouth as he notices the basket. “You coulda cooked here, you know.”

“Oh, well, I didn’t know if you’d want me invading your space,” you reply, following him deeper into the cabin and setting the basket down on the counter.

Logan turns back towards you, bracing his hands against the counter. “I don’t mind you in my space.”

His words hang in the air between you and you can feel your pulse quicken. You glance up at him, and the way he’s looking at you—steady and unflinching—sends a thrill down your spine.

You clear your throat, trying to settle the nerves in your chest. “Next time then,” you say lightly, hoping he can’t hear the slight waver in your voice.

Logan’s lips quirk into a half smile. “Next time,” he agrees.

He reaches into a cabinet above him, pulling down a couple of plates and glasses, setting a small table in the corner of the small kitchen. You keep yourself busy unpacking the food, arranging the bread, pasta and sauce on the table, working around him as he uncorks the wine and pours both of you a glass.

Logan joins you then, raising his glass and clinking it gently against yours. He nods in a silent cheers and tips his head back as he drinks, his eyes never leaving yours. You can’t suppress the shiver that shoots down your spine.

Setting down his glass, he serves you and then himself, commenting, “This smells amazing.”

“Family recipe,” you reply, taking another sip wine. “Remind me to make it for you when I have fresh tomatoes. It’s even better then.”

“I’ll have to do that,” he says with a smile.

Conversation starts off slow, but not awkward, as you both test the limits of what you’re wiling to share. Logan’s answers are often short, reserved, but what he does reveal helps bring into focus the outline of the man before you. An outline you’re hoping he’ll let you fill in.

“George says you’re a mutant,” you start slowly and you don’t miss the way his posture stiffens, his fork scraping harshly against the plate.

He goes still and you wonder if you fucked up. Crossed a boundary he wasn’t willing to cross.

Eventually, Logan’s eyes flick up to yours and he lets out a small hum. “He did, did he?”

You nod, chewing. “It doesn’t bother me.”

He’s quiet for a beat. “It bothers most people.”

“I’m not most people,” you reply, your voice soft.

Something in his face softens then, the furrow of his brow a little less pronounced. A slight smile plays at his lips. “No. No you’re not.”

You feel a warmth bloom in your chest and your face flushes. Taking another bite, you ask, “Can I see?”

Logan studies you for a moment and you can see him deciding whether or not to show you that part of him he’d rather keep hidden. He sets the silverware down and he flexes his fingers before resting his palms back on the table. Then, he unsheathes his claws and you can’t stop the gasp that falls from your lips.

You see him flinch at your reaction and he goes to retract his claws and you reach for him. “Don’t,” you say, your fingers hovering just above the blades.

As he relaxes, you gently rest your fingertips against the metal, finding it surprisingly cool but still holding a faint warmth from his body. His eyes drop to where you’re touching him as you slowly begin to trace each blade with your fingers, following the slight curve down to where they emerge from his skin. You look up at him, finding his gaze fixed on you and you shiver under the intensity.

“They’re beautiful,” you whisper. You feel him shudder beneath you as he retracts his claws, leaving your fingertips nestled against the skin between his knuckles.

You pull your hand away from his, mourning the loss of his skin against yours. Logan clears his throat and pulls his hands into his lap, glancing down at them as if they’re foreign, something he’s never taken the time to notice before. He flexes his fingers once more before dragging his gaze back to your face.

“Do they hurt?” you ask quietly.

He shakes his head. “No. Not anymore.”

“Thank you,” you say quietly. “Thank you for showing me.”

Logan studies you for a long moment, searching your face like he’s trying to figure you out. You know he’s probably not used to this, someone seeing him as something other than a mutant, an aberration, someone who should be hidden away. Then, his face softens.

“People don’t usually ask,” he says quietly.

You smile gently, feeling that flame inside you burn just a bit brighter. “I just want to know you.”

He leans back in his chair, his gaze still steady, but more open, as if some of those invisible walls he surrounds himself with have started to come down. If only just enough to let the light shine through.

An unspoken tension simmers, thickening the air, and you know he can feel it too, but it’s not uncomfortable. It’s heavy with promise. You turn your attention back to your plate and for a few moments, neither of you speak.

“So,” you say after a beat, “Do you ever use them as forks?”

Logan huffs out a laugh, the sound surprising you and his eyes crinkle in genuine amusement. “I can’t say that I have,” he replies with a smile.

You grin. “You should give it a try.”

“If I do, you’ll be the first to know.”

The rest of dinner passes with easy conversation and you feel your nerves begin to settle, just a bit. Logan seems less guarded too, more at ease than you’ve ever seen him.

You help him clear the table, ignoring his request that you just sit and relax. As you stand next to him, emptying the leftovers into a container, you feel his eyes on you. When you hand him the container, your fingers brush again, but this time he doesn’t immediately pull away. His fingers linger just a bit longer than necessary and your breath catches in your throat.

“Thanks for dinner, he says quietly, voice low. “And for…understanding.”

You nod, feeling that unmistakable pull between you, the tug that’s kept you orbiting closer and closer to him. “Anytime, Logan,” you answer softly. “You don’t have to hide from me.”

There’s a flicker of hesitation in his eyes, like he’s been burned before and is still figuring out if he can trust what you’re offering him. And you understand his turmoil, trust having shattered your heart into pieces, pieces you’re still trying to pick up and reshape.

Logan steps a little bit closer then and before you can say anything else, his hand gently reaches out and tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. The gesture is simple but intimate and it sends a shiver down your spine, heat pooling lowly in your belly.

“C’mon,” he says. “Let me walk you home.”

He grabs your basket before you can protest and you follow him out into the night. There’s a full moon hanging heavy in the sky, illuminating the path in front of you, yet you remain close to Logan. You curse to yourself as you trip over an exposed root and then you feel Logan reach out for you, his fingers wrapping securely around your own. The heat of his palm against yours is almost overwhelming.

Your cabin comes into view and Logan slows, his fingers slipping from your grasp as he sets the basket down on the porch.

“Good night, Logan,” you say softly as you walk up the steps.

As you turn from him, he reaches for your wrist, his fingers curling and pressing hotly against your skin. Your breath hitches as he climbs the steps to join you on the porch, and your gasps dies in your throat as he tilts your chin up and forces you to meet his gaze.

“Do I make you nervous?” His voice is low, breath hot and damp against your skin.

“Yes,” you breathe, somehow inching closer to him, your fingers reaching for the hem of his flannel and twisting into the fabric.

“Why?” He brushes his nose against yours and you chase after the touch.

Swallowing hard, you look up at him from under your lashes. You tilt further into him, your mouth hovering just over his. “Because I haven’t felt like this in a very long time and I don’t want it to go away.” Don’t want you to go away.

Logan nods and whispers, “I’m not goin’ anywhere.” And then he presses his mouth to yours.

It’s soft, barely a hint of skin against skin, but when you whisper, “Please,” against his lips, Logan growls and then he’s everywhere. His kiss claims you, his tongue licking in your mouth and you whimper as his fingers curl along the nape of your neck somehow pulling you impossibly closer.

You wind your arms around his shoulders, your fingers tangling in the short strands at the back of his head. Your entire world is focused down to the feel of his lips on yours and the press of his fingers against your jaw as he pulls you towards his hungry mouth.

Logan’s grip on you tightens, one hand splayed across your lower back and the other pressed firmly between your shoulder blades, anchoring you to him. The heat between you is palpable, each movement of his lips setting you further aflame. You lose track of time, lost in the sensation of his beard scraping against your skin, leaving a tingling trail in its wake.

When he finally pulls back, you’re both breathless and his forehead rests against yours, your shared breaths mingling in the space between you. His eyes are dark and intense as they search your face and you feel untethered, Logan being the only thing keeping you grounded.

“You okay?” he asks, voice rough, but surprisingly tender as his thumb traces along the line of your jaw.

You nod, swallowing the lump that’s formed in your throat. You don’t trust yourself to speak.

His lips quirk into a small smile. “Good.” He brushes a stray strand of hair away from your cheek, his hand lingering at the side of your face. He presses one last soft kiss to the corner of your mouth before he steps back and walks down the path back home.

+++

You can’t stop thinking about the kiss—Logan’s lips against yours, the taste of his tongue, the press of his hands against your skin, hot and heavy, yet gentle.

You want to live in that moment forever. Want to know only his kisses for the rest of your life, for him to be the first person you kiss good morning and the last person you kiss goodnight. For him to kiss you just because he can, because he misses you, because he can’t get the feel of your mouth out of his mind and he needs to feel you again pressing against him.

You also want to run away, hide yourself from these emotions that are overwhelming you and leaving you feeling raw and exposed and absolutely terrified. You haven’t kissed another man in two years and he broke your heart, leaving nothing but shattered pieces and dust in his wake. Dust that still clings to you despite your best efforts to sweep it up. Those pieces of your heart are still sharp, jagged where they should be smooth.

You’ve always been trusting, choosing to see the light in others as opposed the darkness. Believing deep down that everyone deserves kindness, deserves a second chance, that one bad deed does not a bad person make. But he stole a part of that from you and you hate him for it. Hate that even now, after all this time, he’s able to worm his way into your brain and make you question the motives of the man who’s made you feel more alive than you have in months.

Last night you felt unshackled, unbound by the fear that had chained you for so long. You felt as if Logan’s very touch, his presence, had set your soul on fire and instead of fearing the burn, you were ready to embrace the warmth.

But now, raw contempt begins to simmer in your veins and you need something to pour your frustration into before it threatens to consume you whole.

Throwing your hair up into a messy bun and throwing on a paint-stained shirt and ripped jeans, you head outside looking for a project to sink fingers into. In the small shed behind the cabin, you find a few gardening supplies—a small shovel, trowel, bow rake—and you drag them out and to the overgrown flower beds.

You don’t even bother with the tools at first, ripping at the dead growth with your bare hands, pulling it from the earth in great clumps and tossing it aside. Your pulse beats loudly in your ears as you move from bed to bed, clawing away the old growth, your breathing growing ragged and your palms staining with dirt.

Grabbing the rake, you dig at the remaining plants, tearing at the roots, destroying the new growth. Tears run hotly down your face, blurring your vision and your throat aches from force of your breathing and screams you’ve been holding back.

From behind you, you hear the sound of your name and you whip around so quickly, the rake goes flying from your hands. You can hear the snikt of Logan’s claws as they unsheathe and the splintering of wood as he deflects the rake flying at him. It clatters to the ground between you as he retracts his claws and looks at you, his brow furrowed in concern.

You wonder, then, exactly what you look like in that moment. Dirt caked on your hands and under your fingernails, cheeks flushed with exertion, hair a halo of disarray. The pure adrenaline you’d been running on wanes and your limbs suddenly feel heavy and you sink to the ground in front of him. You can’t bring yourself to look at him, because you’re afraid of what you’ll see.

Logan approaches you slowly, kneeling down in front of you and gently raising your chin to look up at him. The stark worry etched on his face makes you ache and fresh tears burn in your eyes. You wipe at your eyes, which only serves to smear dirt across your face.

“I’m terrified, Logan,” you whisper, wanting to reach for him, but afraid to touch him. “I terrified of how much I like you.”

“You scare me too,” he confesses softly and your heart breaks.

He leans closer, fingers resting hesitantly against your knees. You reach for him too, grabbing on to the open sides of his jacket and pulling him to you. Logan doesn’t flinch, doesn’t push back and instead envelopes you into his arms, your head resting against the solid warmth of his chest.

Safe in his arms, you cry. Harsh, broken sobs as he rubs your back, the soft caress of his fingers along your spine anchoring you to him as he holds you. He murmurs into your hair that he’s got you, to let it all out, and you do.

Eventually, you calm and sigh, pressing your forehead against his chest, loathe to move just yet. “I’m broken, Logan,” you mumble into his shirt. You look up at him then, the softness and concern on his face making you physically ache. “I still have broken pieces where I should be whole.”

Slowly, tentatively, he brings his hands up to your face, cupping your cheeks in his hands. His thumbs brush at the dirt and tears under your eyes and he smoothes the hair away from your forehead. “Maybe some of my pieces fit,” he says, voice low, but steady.

His words send a flood of emotion through you, and for a moment, all you can do is stare at him. Then the gravity of what he’s saying hits you—he’s offering you himself, all his jagged and scarred pieces, the pieces no one else sees.

The pieces he wants you to see.

You lean forward, pressing the lightest of kisses against the corner of his mouth. His sigh is hot against your cheek, but he doesn’t press further.

“Thank you,” you whisper into his skin and somehow it feels like the most important thing you’ve ever said.

“C’mon,” he says, “Let me help you get this cleaned up.”

You nod, wiping your nose with the back of your hand. Logan stands, offering you his hand. You take it, your fingers slipping into his and his grip is steady, yet gentle as he helps you up.

Without a word, Logan grabs the broken rake and begins removing the debris from the beds you laid waste to. You watch him work for a moment before joining in, pulling the weeds from the beds you hadn’t gotten to yet. Every now and then your eyes meet, but you don’t say anything. You don’t feel the need to fill the space with words, his presence beside you speaking volumes more than he could ever say.

After a while, Logan pauses and looks over at you, wiping the dirt from his hands into his jeans. “You still got those seeds I gave you?”

“Of course I do.”

“Go get ‘em,” he says nodding towards the cabin. “We’ll plant something new.”

You retrieve the small pouch where you’ve kept it safe and come out to find Logan kneeling in the dirt, his fingers making small pockets of earth to house the new flowers. He looks up at you, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. You join him on the ground, dropping a few seeds in each well as he moves to create the next one.

“I’m not very good at this,” Logan starts, covering the last well with dirt, “but I promise I won’t break you. You don’t gotta be scared of me.”

He looks at you then, his hazel eyes meeting yours and you reach for his hand, your thumb brushing across his dirt stained knuckles.

“No,” you reply with a smile, “I don’t think I do.”

+++

It’s been three days since that moment with Logan in the garden and the air between you has been quiet. Logan hasn’t come by the cabin, but you hadn’t sought him out either. You weren’t avoiding him, exactly. More a need for space, a chance to process the feelings you felt for him, to test if you were truly ready to open yourself up to him.

Your mind never strays far from him, though. An almost constant loop plays in your brain of the way he held you, the way he spoke, the quiet promise he made not to break you. There’s a large part of you that believes him; your heart is screaming at you shed your lingering doubt and trust him, but your rational brain is grasping desperately to the kernel of truth that vows can be broken.

So you turn to what you do best—pour your energy into other things. The cabin is spotless now, cleaned of disuse and age, turned into a cozy place of retreat, a simple shelter turned into a home. And yet…

You’re sitting on the porch, watching the sun dip lower in the sky, the book you’d been trying to read long forgotten. The forest is peaceful, alive with the sounds of early summer. But as calming as it is, you can’t ignore the ache in your chest—you miss him. More than you thought possible.

Just as you’re about to stand, the sound of boots against gravel catches your attention. You look up and there he is—Logan. His hands are shoved deep into the pockets of his worn jacket as he walks up the path. His look is cautious, as if he’s unsure whether or not you’ll accept his presence.

Your heart skips a beat and you stand, wiping your palms against your jeans as he draws closer. His hazel eyes meet yours and there’s something softer about him, something open.

He stops a few feet away from you, gaze steady. “I wasn’t sure if I should come by.” His voice is still gruff, but quieter than usual. “If you needed space or not.”

“I did, need space. But not from you,” you clarify. You take a hesitant step towards him. “I missed you.”

Logan sighs then, his posture relaxing just slightly. “I wanted so badly to see you. I didn’t know if I should stay away.”

Before you can second guess yourself, you step down from the porch, closing the distance between you. You stand in front of him, noticing the faint lines of tension around his mouth, the way his jaw is clenched as if bracing himself for your rejection.

“Don’t stay away,” you say softly, “I want you here.”

You reach for him, your fingers brushing against his hands as you pull them from his pockets. Logan doesn’t pull away and the warmth of his skin against yours feels like the most natural thing in the world. You feel it then, that familiar pull—the one that’s been there since the beginning, drawing you closer and closer into his orbit, his sun.

You brush your thumbs across his knuckles and look up at him. “You wanna come inside?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll make you something to eat?”

Logan nods, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Yeah. Yeah, I’d like that.”

As you lead him inside, something in the air between you shifts, something subtle. But you know one thing for certain—you’re not afraid anymore. Not of this.

+++

The sun has set, the food long gone and as Logan’s hand reaches for the front door, you slip in front of him. His scent overwhelms you, that earthy dampness you’ve come to associate with him flooding your senses.

“What if you stayed?” you ask, the slight waver in your voice betraying your boldness.

You watch as his eyes darken and he leans even further into your space. “Do you know what you’re asking, sweetheart?” he replies, eyes searching your face.

Swallowing, you nod. “I do,” you whisper.

Then you slide your arms around his waist, pulling him closer as you lean in and kiss the hollow of his throat. You can feel him swallow hard beneath your lips and you smirk into his skin as you drag your mouth higher, over the long column of his neck to nip at the corner of his jaw.

“Stay,” you murmur in his ear.

Logan turns, his nose brushing against your cheek as he seeks your mouth and you inhale deeply as his lips find yours. His fingers wind themselves into your hair, resting against the nape of your neck as he pulls you closer. You whimper into his mouth when he pulls back, eyes blown black.

“Show me where,” he says, his voice low.

You lead him up the stairs, his hand warm in yours and you barely make it to the top before Logan’s spinning you around, mouth finding yours. His is kiss is demanding, so different from that first one all those nights ago. This is urgent and desperate, like he can’t possibly get you close enough to satisfy the need deep within him. And you feel it too, pouring yourself back equally into the kiss, moaning as his tongue finally slips alongside yours.

Your fingers fumble along the top of his jeans, pulling his shirt from where it’s tucked and sliding your hands up along the sides of his ribs. He rewards you with a deep groan of his own, nipping slightly at your bottom lip.

“Christ, sweetheart,” he rumbles against your lips, kissing you once, twice, “I’ve been dyin’ to feel your hands on me.”

“Me, too,” you reply, gasping as his hands find the hem of your shirt, lifting it just enough to brush his fingers hotly along your skin.

Logan pulls back just enough to look down at your face, his fingers still clutching the fabric of your shirt, but lifting it just a bit higher. His gaze is questioning, asking for silent permission to continue. You nod once and he slowly drags the shirt up, his fingers skimming along your sides, over the swells of your breasts as he pulls the shirt over your head.

Despite the heat coursing through your veins, you shiver under the intensity of his stare. He kisses you again, inhaling deeply, before moving down, nipping over your chin, your throat, in between your breasts.

Logan’s hands follow his mouth, running a trail from your shoulders, down long your spine, easily flicking open the clasp of your bra on the way. He glances up at you as he moves to pull the straps aside, dragging them down your arms.

“Do you know how beautiful you are?” he asks, his hands coming up to cup your breasts, thumbs fanning out across your nipples.

A jolt of pleasure shoots down your spine and pools low in your belly. You feel like you might spontaneously catch on fire and he’s barely touched you. You can’t remember ever feeling like this when a man has touched you, so consumed by want and need.

His fingers trail lower, brushing along the top of your jeans, popping open the button. You grab for his hand, stopping him. You see the concern flicker across his face and you smile. “Your turn,” you say, sliding your palms up his chest and pushing the flannel from his shoulders, his shirt following suit.

You revel in his muscular physique, your fingers tracing along his collarbones, down over the broad planes of his chest, feeling the wiry hair beneath your fingertips. His muscles flutter beneath your touch as you follow the trail of hair lower, down to the vee between his hips.

Logan’s arousal is evident by the tenting of his jeans, and your eyes locked on his, you dip lower, giving the faintest of caresses over the fabric.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he curses. “Take your pants off.”

It’s a command, not an ask, and one you’re more than willing to comply with.

Nervous energy licks at your skin as your fingers tuck into the waistband of your jeans and pull them down. Logan follows your lead, unbuckling his belt and shoving his jeans over his hips, kicking them aside. His cock juts out proudly, thick and heavy, nestled in a bed of hair.

Logan’s on you before you can kick away the last leg, hoisting you up under your thighs and forcing you to wrap your legs around his hips. His palms are hot against your ass and you can feel his cock trapped between you.

He moves you both to the bed, setting you down before crawling over you and slotting himself between your thighs. Leaning back on his heels, he stares down at you, skin flushed. He kisses you softly once, before dragging a single finger down the center of your chest, hooking it into the waistband of your panties.

“What do you like?” he asks lowly, eyes boring into yours.

You stare at him, unable to comprehend his question as he slides his finger back and forth across your skin. Electric sparks of anticipation crawl up your spine and you can feel the rapid flutter of your heart against your ribs.

“You want me to touch you with my fingers?” His voice is low, so low and you shiver.

Your mouth has gone dry and you can only nod.

“You want me to touch you with my mouth?” Logan leans down, skimming his lips across your collarbone, nipping lightly.

Your fingers stutter across his shoulders and wind themselves into his hair. Logan’s smirk presses into the corner of your jaw. “Want me to touch you with both?”

“Please,” you whine into his neck, breath hot against his skin.

Logan trails back down your body, kisses peppering over your neck, both breasts, your belly before he presses a kiss to the top of your clothed mound. He hooks his fingers into the waistband and looks up at you, asking for permission. At your nod, he pulls he material down, eyes never leaving yours as he trails his fingers down your legs and tosses the fabric aside.

You’re fully bare, exposed in a way you haven’t been in a long time and your nerves blush across your skin. Instinctively, you try to close your legs, but he stops you, his hot palms curling against your thighs.

“You don’t gotta hide from me,” Logan says, kissing your knee and spreading your legs further apart. “You’re so pretty like this. Flushed and wet and smelling so sweet for me.”

A jolt of desire zips down your spine. Nothing could have prepared you for the filthiness of words that would spill from his mouth. Or how much you’d enjoy hearing them.

“I don’t want to disappoint you,” you murmur.

“That’s not possible.”

“Other men have—“

Your words die in your throat as Logan grips your chin, forcing your gaze up to his face. His expression is soft, but his eyes flash with a glint of something dark. “When I fuck you, I’ll be the only man in your bed, understand?”

The roughness and edge in his voice makes you shiver and heat pools between your thighs. You swallow heavily and nod.

“I want this,” he says, his tone softer. “I want you. Whatever you’ll give me.”

Slowly, you reach for his hand and guide his fingers to where you’re wet and aching for him. At the first brush of his fingertips against your folds, you gasp and your fingers dig deeper into his skin.

“Relax, sweetheart,” Logan coos. “I’m gonna make you feel good.”

And then he’s touching you, fingers dragging through your arousal before circling around your clit. He caresses you like he knows you and you’re molten beneath him. One finger, then two slip inside you, pressing against that spot that makes you squirm and grip at the sheets beneath you.

“Fuck,” you breathe, “You weren’t lying.” Logan quirks an eyebrow, fingers still curling within you, his rhythm picking up speed. “You are good with your hands.”

His chuckle rumbles through his chest as he continues to move, this thumb working over your clit. Your hips jolt off the bed when Logan replaces his thumb with his tongue, drawing the sensitive bud into his mouth.

He continues to work your cunt, long, flat presses of his tongue against your clit punctuated by the short, sharp thrusts of his fingers. The dual sensation is enough to wind that tension in your core tighter, building you up higher and higher until you feel yourself reaching that inevitable peak.

“Logan, I—I’m so close,” you gasp, fisting your fingers into his hair.

His growl against your cunt is enough to send you over the edge, the vibrations rippling through your body as your orgasm washes over you. Through half lidded eyes, you meet his gaze from between your thighs, his eyes dark with desire and you shiver at the intensity of his stare.

Logan crawls over you, pressing a kiss to your lips. You can taste yourself on his lips, bright and sour, as he licks into your mouth.

“Do you trust me?”

Logan’s fingers are still moving against you, wringing out the last of your orgasm and you can only nod. He withdraws his fingers and you whine, but he just smirks and taps your hip.

“Turn over,” he commands lowly.

A shudder ripples through you as you willingly comply, rolling onto your stomach as Logan’s palm trails from your hip over the swell of your ass. His fingers kneed into your flesh and you squeak as he curves them over your skin, pulling you up onto your knees, drawing your hips flush with his. The thick feel of his cock presses into your ass and you can’t help but push back, enjoying the strangled moan that falls from his lips.

“I can’t wait to be nestled deep inside you,” he groans, slotting his cock between your thighs, running the length along your wet cunt.

You peer over your shoulder and smirk at him. “Then what are you waiting for?”

Logan lines up then and the air punches out of your lungs as he slowly eases himself in to the hilt. He’s deep at this angle and you feel claimed, owned in the best way possible as he begins to move his hips. The drag of his cock against your walls is exquisite and you’re sure you’ve never experienced pleasure quite like this before.

His fingers dig into the flesh at your hips, grabbing as much as he can to pull you back into him and you push back, meeting him thrust for thrust. His grip is enough to be bruising, teetering that line between pleasure and pain and yet you relish it.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he rasps. “Look so good stretched around my cock.”

Pleasure zips along your spine and curls along your limbs, each drag of his cock against you coiling that band in your belly tighter and tighter. Yet, you need more. You need to feel him, feel his arms around you, on you, feel his mouth hot and open against your skin.

“I need to feel you closer,” you whine. “Please, I—”

Logan’s arm slips underneath you, curling just under your breasts and pulling your back flush to his chest. He holds on, fingertips splaying across your ribcage as he fucks up into you, his breath hot and damp against your ear.

You turn your head just enough to capture his lips, your mouth pressing against his in an open-mouthed kiss. He steals the moan from your throat as his other hand dips to where you’re joined, fingers beginning to circle around your clit.

Slipping a hand into his hair, you hold him to you, your head falling back onto his shoulder. Logan groans when you rake your nails along his scalp and you do it again. Your mixed groans and the wet noises from where he’s thrusting into you fill the room and time seems to stop. There is nothing but the thick feel of him between your legs, the fervent press of his fingers against your clit and the tight grasp of his hand across your breast.

A litany of praise falls from his mouth and his words burn through you, setting you aflame from the inside. It’s too early for thoughts of love and forever, but you can feel something real, something undeniable pulling you together, uniting you in a way more than just physical. You’re bound to him.

Logan’s hand slides up your sternum, his fingers coming to cup your jaw, pulling your focus back to him. The pad of his thumb pulls at your lower lip. “Come for me, sweetheart,” he husks into your ear. “I wanna hear those pretty sounds you make.”

And you do, two more forceful thrusts sending you teetering over the edge, your orgasm ripping through you. Logan doesn’t stop, fucking you through wave after wave, his thrusts getting sloppier as he chases his own release.

“Let me feel you, Logan,” you pant, your breath coming out in short gasps. “Please.”

With a deep groan into your shoulder he comes, his cock spasming deep within you, painting your womb with his seed. His arm around your hips holds you firmly in place as he uses your body to wring out the last of his pleasure, shallowly thrusting as your walls caress him. When he finally stills, breath hot against your skin, you can feel your combined come slick against your thighs.

You don’t know how long he holds you like that, back to chest, keeping you in his arms simply because he can.

Only later, when the sweat begins to cool on your skin and your flesh pebbles, does Logan lay you down, finally slipping from within you. He pulls you close and you rest your head against his chest, the comforting lull of his heartbeat echoing in your ear.

You lightly trace your fingertips over the crest of his hipbone just to feel him beneath you. His breathing evens out, approaching that blissful edge of sleep when you glance up at him. Logan opens his eyes, gaze meeting yours and he smiles.

“Logan?”

His hum vibrates through his chest.

“I think we’re healing each other.”

“Yeah, sweetheart,” he answers, “I think we are.”

#logan howlett x you #logan howlett smut #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett #origins wolverine #origins logan howlett #the wolverine #wolverine #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #wolverine smut #logan howlett fic #logan howlett fanfiction #logan x reader #logan howlett x fem!reader

1K notes · View notes

yandins-beleagured-historian · 6 months ago

Text

The walls here are very thin. Yandin's command squad are arguing again. Apparently someone detonated a full-yield magma bomb under some disreputable governor's throne to prove a point. They've all agreed it's deserved but are trying to work out if Savant Paramete had anything to do with the 'misplacement' of capital grade munitions.

Seeing stuff like that at the top of r/grimdank warms my heart.

#Get his ass #H. V. Calimorre #The wonderful slice of the fandom OP represents is not new #friendly reminder the Iconic DoW space marine has VA credits for My Little Pony #(Good lord the crossovers)#We've always been here #We will endure #And we have twice as big a pool to recruit our bananas from

2K notes · View notes

mydemimonde · 5 months ago

Text

'Honey, Are You Coming?' (Baby Said, Part 2) — Modern!Aemond Targaryen x Reader

divider is from @plutism

a/n: hello! i'm soooo so sorry for taking too long in doing the second part of baby said, college and work are driving me insane and i barely have time to write. i really hope you like this

Summary: After that mindblowing night after the bar, you find yourself waiting for Aemond's call, growing slightly disappointed.

Words: 4691

Warnings: +18 (minors dni), female reader, no use y/n nor specific physical description, swearing, dirty talk, hand kink, praising, tiddy sucking, oral sex (m receiving), fingering, p in v sex, unprotected sex, creampie, slightly dominant aemond, riding, no proof reading! english is not my first language, i apologise in advance if there are any mistakes.

It’s been five days and you haven’t heard anything from Aemond. Not a call, not even a text message. Nothing. You started to feel a little bit anxious and somewhat offended. Perhaps he didn’t like you that much, or worse, he had a girlfriend and still had sex with you. You shake your head, trying to get rid of those thoughts, focusing on the task at hand.

A year before your graduation, you got a job in a small publishing house, working as an editor. You didn’t earn a fortune, but it was more than enough to make ends meet and pay rent. Still, you were trying to find a job in a bigger place, freelancing didn’t appeal to you and you were actually looking for a new flat, closer to the capital, which meant higher prices.

“For fuck’s sake,” you hear Arianne curse next to you, making you startle. With a frown, you lift your head to look at her. “You have been eyeing your phone for the last fifteen minutes, it’s quite annoying,” she says, half serious, half joking. The brunette tilts her head and places a hand on her hip. “He hasn’t called you yet, has he?”

You shake your head, pursing your lips. “I don’t know why it affects me so much… it was just a one night stand” you explain, running a hand through your hair and sighing.

“Perhaps he’s busy…” your friend tries to reason with you, seeing how defeated you looked. She gets on her knees and grabs your hands. “Hey, I don’t want you to feel like rubbish, you shouldn’t feel like this, even if he was a mindblowing fuck.” She says, quoting the words you said when you told her about that night, giving her all the nasty details over a cup of wine during dinner. “Have you checked his socials?” She asks, to which you nod.

“Yep. Private account on Instagram, no Twitter. Didn’t even bother to check Facebook, no one uses it nowadays” you move your hand in the air. “And before you ask, no, I didn’t ask a following request.”

“What’s stopping you?” She asks with a frown and clicks her tongue in annoyance when you shrug. “I swear to God…” she mutters under her breath before plopping down on her chair, opening an incognito tab in her browser, as if what she was doing was illegal.

You frown and move your chair next to hers. “What are you doing?” You watch as she types his name on the search bar. You read the first few results with narrowed eyes. They scan the many search results populating the screen, but they focus on one particular title. Meet the Targaryens: The Powerhouse Family Behind ‘Valyrian Press’

Oh God. “Click that one…” you point at the title and Arianne immediately clicks. The webpage loads quickly and a big picture pops up on the screen. Your eyes fall to Aemond’s figure in the family picture. He was looking into the camera, a serious expression on his face, his hands into the pockets of his black suit. He wore all black.

Arianne turns to look at you. “You didn’t tell me this snack was the son of Viserys Targaryen…”

“I didn’t know!” You whisper-shout, shrugging. “I had no idea he was the son of Viserys Targaryen, though the surname did ring a bell.” Just when she opens her mouth to speak, you interrupt her, lifting your index finger in the air. “Hey, it wasn’t a date, it was a fuck, okay? We didn’t just sit down to talk about our families” you explain, defending yourself. She lifts her hands in surrender.

“Didn’t say anything at all.” Your friend turns again and skims the article. “Well, my dear friend, you had sex with a single billionaire, son of the owner of one of the most important publishing houses in the country. If you don’t send that Instagram request, I will do it.” Just when she finishes saying that, your phone vibrates. Your head jerks and you extend your hand to grab it, your eyes widening when you see the notification. Arianne frowns. “Is it him?”

You nod, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips. Arianne gasps and chuckles as you open the text message.

Hi. I apologise for not writing sooner. May I call you?

You fight the urge of jumping up and down and screaming of happiness, and instead you take a deep breath to calm down the butterflies in your stomach and type an answer, your hands shaking in excitement.

Hi there :) Sure, you can call me.

Just a minute after you sent that message, your phone vibrates once more, and you take the call, eager to listen to his voice. “Hi?”

“Hello, gorgeous.” Gorgeous. You hear him hiss. “I’m so, so sorry for not calling you back. I have been quite busy these days, travelling and accompanying my father to so many meetings…” you can picture him moving his hands around, explaining things to you. “I meant to call you right after that night, but work got in the way. I hope you accept my apologies…”

You smile against the phone. “Don’t worry, Aemond. It’s okay, I suspected you were busy,” you reply, biting your lower lip to try to stop a laugh, seeing Arianne making faces at your words and mouthing ‘I told you’.

“Anyways, I’m in the city right now… are you at work?” He asks after a soft sigh and you find yourself twirling a strand of your hair like a high school girl. How pathetic, you think.

“Yes, but I finish my shift at 5pm. We can grab a coffee or a sandwich, if you want…” you suggest.

“Of course, darling. Give me your address, I can pick you up and we can go to Honeyholt Bakery, they sell delicious lemon cakes.” You beam, lemon cakes were your favourites, but you never told him that. You give him your job’s address before saying goodbye and hanging up.

You plop down on your chair, a dreamy look in your face as you look at the ceiling. You feel Arianne’s gaze on you, and you look down at her. She slowly shakes her head, a smirk making its way on her face. “I sooo envy you, lucky bitch” she jokes, making you giggle.

Knowing that you were hours away from meeting Aemond was all the motivation you needed to get down to work quickly, going over the document you had to edit before sending it to the executive editor. You finish a bit earlier than expected and grab your jacket and purse, kiss Arianne’s head and head towards the exit to wait for Aemond. You leave him a message letting him know you were ready, and not even a minute later you receive his reply. On my way ;)

Less than ten minutes later, you see a black BMW with tinted windows steering around the corner, slowing down and parking right in front of the doors of the building. The driver’s windows roll down and you see Aemond, with his hair combed back and wearing sunglasses. Fuck me.

He smiles at you and you smile back. “Hello, darling.” His voice is smooth and it makes you swallow hard. He steps out of the car, not before shifting the gear level into park mode and pulling the lever so that the car stays right in place.

“Hi, Aemond” you reply, your eyes sweeping over his lean figure clad in some brown polished shoes, black trousers, black shirt and black leather jacket. A lot of black. He looks delicious. He leans in to kiss your cheek, his expensive cologne filling your nostrils.

He places a hand on your lower back and indicates you to get into his car, opening the door for you, which you thank. He closes the door and walks around his vehicle to get inside, and you take a moment to look around, noticing how clean it smells. There’s music playing, the electric guitars and drums echoing in the small space. When Aemond gets inside and closes the door, he turns the volume of the radio down, but the music is still audible. You can recognize the song very clearly.

Meet me there where it never closes

Meet me there, I'll give you your roses

All is fair in love, oh-oh-oh

Honey, are you coming?

He takes his glasses off and begins driving the car at a normal speed as he talks. “How have you been, gorgeous?”

“I’ve been great… I have a lot more work now, but it’s so fulfilling,” you reply, your gaze falling to his hand on the steering wheel. He looks so confident as he drives, and you suddenly feel your cheeks getting hot, so you move your gaze to the window, watching the shops as you pass by.

Aemond smirks and glances at you. “I’m happy for you. The most important thing is enjoying and loving what you do” you hum at his answer, showing your agreement. “You work at a publishing house, right?”

“Yeah, I work as an editor, have been doing it for a year now” he raises his brows and nods.

“So I take it that you’re comfortable in that place…” his eyes are fixed on the road, concentrated on driving.

You purse your lips to the side, humming. “I’m actually looking for other publishing houses. I’m thinking about moving closer to the capital, and the rent is obviously higher in those areas, so I need a better wage.”

Aemond nods, taking in your words. “Well, my father has a publishing house. Valyrian Press, you might have heard of it.” Your eyes widen in surprise —fake, of course,— at his words. “There are some vacancies, and the pay is really good.”

“Your dad owns Valyrian Press?” He hums. “Oh, that’s why your surname rang a bell…” What a big fat lie.

Aemond huffs a laugh. “You’re telling me that you didn’t google my name?” How the fuck does he know things?

“Not me, my friend did.” He chuckles. “It never crossed my mind to google anything… but perhaps I did look up your social media…” you trail off.

Aemond chuckles again, the sound making your heart flutter. “Well, I barely use social media, I have an Instagram account but I’m not very fond of those apps…” You look at him and shake your head, letting out a soft chuckle. He parks the car outside the café. “What do y’wanna eat, darling?”

You. “Uhm, a cappuccino and some lemon cakes would be fine.”

He winks at you and smirks. “Excellent choice. I’ll be back soon” and with that, he exits the car. You watch him as he walks towards the bakery, biting your lip at the sight. You rest your head against the back of the seat, sighing and thinking about that man you barely know. You don’t know why, but you feel so drawn to him and you want to kick yourself because you’ve never felt like this for anyone. Not even your ex, for God’s sake.

You see Aemond getting out of the shop with two cups in one hand and a small white box with a yellow bow on top on the other hand. You stretch to get the door open, making it easier for him to get into the car.

“Thank you, beautiful” he offers you a smile and you sit comfortably in your position. He hands you the coffees and sets the box in the middle of your seats before closing the door and starting the car. “Where would you like to go?” He asks you, grabbing his cup and taking a sip from it.

“Wherever you want, Aemond… is there any specific place you wanna go?” You ask as you look at him, your eyes momentarily drifting to his hand on the steering wheel, the other one wrapped around the cup. Fuck, how is it that his hands were enough to make you go wild, the mere though of having them roaming over your body, pushing your legs apart, grabbing your hips, squeezing your tits, choking you… and his fingers, God, his long fingers.

“Hey!” He calls you, startling you. His glances at you once again, smirking when he sees you blinking and wide-eyed. “I asked you a question…”

You blink a few times more, frowning. “Uhm, sorry… what?” Your voice comes out meekly as you try to gather your thoughts. He stops at the red light.

“I asked you if you wanted me to take you to your apartment…” when you don’t answer, he huffs a laugh. “Cat got your tongue, hm?” He murmurs in a husky voice. He places his cup on the cup holder and extends his arm, his left hand coming up to your face to cup your cheek. “You like my hands, don’t you?” Aemond looks at you, giving you a smug smile when you mutter something inaudible. “You think I didn’t notice how you were staring at my hands, love?” You swallow hard as his thumb grazes your lower lip and you take the opportunity to open your mouth slightly, the tip of your tongue licking his digit before sucking it, the sensation going straight to his cock.

You hear him curse under his breath, his chest heaving. He sees the light going from red, to yellow, to green out of the corner of his eye and, reluctantly, he pulls his thumb out of your mouth, fearing that if you did that again, he might lose control of the vehicle. Before he retreats his hand you take it and guide it inside your jeans, letting him feel you.

“Fuck, you’re soaked” he mutters as he feels your wet folds, his other hand gripping the wheel tightly, his knuckles going white. You keep him there, pressing his hand against your cunt to get some relief. “Holy shit, babygirl, wait…” he retreats his fingers from your cunt and you whine. “Shh, relax…” he shushes you, his fingers quickly undoing the button of your jeans and pulling down the zipper to get more space.

He hisses when he gets his hand inside your lace panties again, his middle finger trailing up your entrance, gathering some of your essence to rub your clit with his digit. “Oh, fuck” you curse, throwing your head back and closing your eyes as the pad of his finger rubs lazy circles over your bud.

“God, love, you’re really wet… thinking about my hands turns you on, huh?” He taunts you, a low growl rumbling in his throat when he feels your cunt sucking his finger in. Aemond slides his finger inside you and you mewl as he starts pumping it. He continues driving, his gaze focused on the road ahead, his mind racing. “Want another finger, baby?”

“Hmm… ngh… yes, Aemond- oh!” You squeak when he inserts his index finger. You grip the grab handle above the window, trying to hold onto something as his fingers continue his work. “Fuck, right there” you moan when his fingers curl up, hitting your sweet spot with ease.

Aemond hums, curling them again and increasing the pace of his fingers. You were thankful the windows were tinted, otherwise passers-by would see what you were doing inside that car. Aemond’s grip on the steering wheel tightens as he feels your cunt tightening around his fingers, you are so close to cumming so he slows down the movements.

“N-no, Aemond, don’t stop, I’m so close…” you complain in a whine, and he groans lowly.

“Baby, I’m so fucking hard right now and if you continue making those beautiful sounds I might cum in my pants and crash this vehicle. I need you to tell me where you wanna go, I can’t focus on the road if I have you squeezing my fingers like that…” he explains, panting a little bit.

“Pull over… drive to a parking lot, I don’t know…” you plead, bucking your hips slightly. You don’t know how long you can last, not when the heel of his palm is pressing against your clit, eliciting whimpers from you.

Aemond drives towards the nearest parking lot he finds, his fingers moving inside you again at a relentless pace, making you gasp. “Fuck, baby, I can feel you getting closer, you’re squeezing my fingers so tightly…” He says through gritted teeth, smirking when you let out a high-pitched moan the moment his fingers reach that rough patch inside you, making you jolt. “C’mon, pretty girl. Cum all over my fingers, wanna feel you…” he coaxes.

He grunts when you press your legs together as you come, head thrown back and jaw open, incoherent words and moans spilling past your lips. His fingers continue working inside you, helping you ride out your orgasm. He pulls them out, and you nearly choke as you watch him, through half-lidded eyes, how he brings his fingers to his mouth, sucking them clean and moaning at the taste.

“You taste incredibly sweet, baby. You have no idea how much I need to put my cock inside you” you moan in response, head spinning at his words. He enters the parking lot and rushes to find a spot, parking the car immediately. “Come to the back” he orders, and he peeks around to check that no one sees you in the almost empty place.

Both of you get to the back of the car, almost throwing yourself at him. His lips capture yours in an intense kiss, his hand cupping your neck to pull you closer and angle your head to deepen it while the other rests on your waist. The tip of his tongue presses slightly against your lower lip and you gladly part your lips, allowing his tongue to explore your mouth. You can taste the strong coffee in his mouth.

Your hands trail down his chest, feeling his heartbeat quicken under your palms. Aemond growls into your mouth when one of your hands cup his evident bulge, palming him through the fabric. “Holy… shit…” he mutters against your lips. You take the opportunity to leave open-mouthed kisses along his jaw, his neck, all the way to his earlobe.

“Want to suck your cock, Aemond…” you purr in his ear before taking his earlobe between your teeth, nibbling softly as you lower the zipper of his jeans, slithering your hand under his boxers.

“F-fuck…” he curses through gritted teeth, closing his eyes for a moment as you pull down his jeans and boxers in one motion. Your mouth waters at the sight of his cock straining against his stomach and you move in your place, bringing your legs up to kneel next to him, your ass propped up in direction to the window. Your index finger grates the weeping tip, making him shudder. “Don’t tease… put your mouth to work, needy girl” he instructs, his hand landing on your ass with a loud smack, making you yelp.

You swallow hard and lick your lips as you lean forward, your right hand wrapping around his base. Like a lollipop, your tongue licks his cock from the base to the tip, eliciting a hiss from him. The hand that smacked your ass comes to rest on the small of your back, hiking up your blouse and rubbing circles on your skin.

Your lips wrap around his tip, sucking it gently and swirling your tongue around it. “God… yes, like that…” he breathes out, his voice rough. You stroke his shaft with your hand in rhythm with the movements of your mouth, up and down his length. Your hair falls to the side but Aemond is quick to grab it, putting it in a ponytail as your head bobs up and down. He resists the urge to buck his hips up, trying not to hurt you.

You stop stroking him and move your hand to cup his balls, which ignites something primal in Aemond. He can’t help but thrust his hips upwards into your mouth, making you moan. “Fucking hell, you’re taking me so deep into that wet mouth… love it” he coos, biting his lip at the sight of your mouth around him and your head bobbing up and down. His cock is covered in your saliva, glistening under the dim lights of the parking lot.

You hollow your cheeks as you go up, your hands wrapping around his base again, adding a bit of pressure. That makes him growl and pant, the sounds he makes going straight to your cunt. He continues praising you in choked, needy moans, telling you how good your mouth feels on his cock, how he’s going to wreck your pussy immediately afterwards, his hand guiding your head up and down his length. You feel him twitch in your mouth, the signal that he’s close to cumming.

“Are you coming, Aemond?” You ask, your hot breath fanning against his length before taking him deep into your mouth, gagging around him.

“Y-yes… s-stop… I’m so close…” he warns, the obscene wet sucking sounds that fill the car making him let out a strangled moan. He pulls you away from his length, a trail of saliva still connecting your mouth to him. You use the palm of your hand to wipe your mouth, licking your lips and looking at him.

“Why did you want me to stop?” Your hand presses on his inner thigh, making him sigh deeply and let go of your hair.

“Because when I cum, I want to do it deep inside your cunt, alright?” He explains as he leans his back against the seat, his words making your jaw drop. “Now, get rid of those jeans and ride me.”

You eagerly do as told, putting your legs down and shimming out of your jeans and soaked panties. You toss them aside and straddle him, your bent knees on either side of his hips, your chest pressing against his given the constricted space you are in. His hands immediately land on either side of your hips, guiding you to sink down on his cock.

Both of you moan at the contact, your eyes close as he lets you adjust to his size. When you open your eyes you find his hungry gaze on you, his pupils dark with lust. He licks his lips, bringing one hand to cup your neck and pull you down to kiss him. The kiss is slow but passionate, sensual. You find support on his shoulders and you start moving your hips, finding the right rhythm.

Aemond pulls back to breath, his lips hovering over yours as you rest your forehead against his. His fingers grip your hips tightly, certainly leaving marks. “Hmm…” he hums, feeling how your cunt sucks him in, engulfing him. “D’you feel me deep inside you, baby?” He murmurs against your lips.

“Y-yes… you’re so deep, Aemond,” you reply in a shaky whisper. You feel his breath against your face due to the close proximity, hearing the low grunts and whines that leave his lips. His hands move from your hips to your abdomen, lifting your blouse to feel your skin, his touch setting your body on fire.

“No bra?” His eyes widen in surprise and he smirks. “Naughty girl, I might have to punish you…” He taunts as he pulls the straps of your blouse down, freeing your breasts. He mutters a curse and dives into your chest, his hands bringing your tits together, squeezing as his tongue swirls around your right nipple, making you arch your back against him. “You fit perfectly in my hands, baby…” he squeezes your tits once more, making you throw your head back. Aemond leans forward and leaves wet kisses on your throat, sucking the junction between your neck and shoulder as his big hands knead your tits.

Your nails dig into his shoulders as you increase the speed of your movements, letting out desperate whines as the tip of his cock bullies the rough patch inside you. You’ve never been this wet before, the squelching sounds making you blush furiously in embarrassment. “Fuck, you’re so wet… can’t wait for when you soak my cock as you come” those dirty words he mutters against your ear have you gasping loudly and furrowing your brows. Aemond rests his forehead against your shoulder, the sounds escaping his lips coming out muffled.

“Aemond… I’m… fuck, I’m so close…” you speak in a choked moan, your arms wrapping around his neck as you bounce on his dick.

You feel him smirk against your skin, his teeth nibbling your collarbone. “Yeah, I can feel that… you’re so tight, love, you feel so fucking good” he praises, his voice hoarse and deep. Aemond lifts his head from your shoulder, looking up at you, his eyes roaming over your face. “Look at me” he demands in an authoritative, stern voice. You do as told, locking your eyes with his. “Do not tear your gaze away from me, you understand?” You nod frantically, your brows knitted together in pleasure.

His hands lower to your backside, gripping your ass tightly, helping you as you move on top of him. He brings his legs together, plants his feet on the floor and starts bucking his hips up, meeting your movements. Your eyes close shut involuntarily, wanton and sinful moans spilling past your lips as he pounds into you. “I said, fucking look at me” he says through gritten teeth, and you obey, as hard as it is to do so.

His eyes roam over your face, committing every detail to memory. “Y’gonna cum all over my cock, hmm? Can feel you squeezing me.” You nod, unable to speak. His hands grip your ass tighter, his nails digging into your skin. “Come, baby… let go and soak me, c’mon,” he gives your ass a loud smack, and that does it to you. His mouth is agape as he watches you come undone above him, your eyes rolling to the back of your skull and lips parted as you gasp for air. “That’s it, baby… I got you.”

You feel blood rushing through your ears, your eyes flutter close and your legs tremble. You feel Aemond’s hard grip on your ass as he keeps pounding into you, chasing his own release. “Fuck! Fuck, fuck, I’m gonna…” his hips stutter and his arms wrap around your waist tightly as he cums deep inside your cunt, a guttural groan coming out of his lips, the sound muffled as he hides his head in your shoulder.

Both of you stay there, panting and holding each other as you come down from your intense orgasms. You feel like you’re walking on a cloud, feeling boneless. Once you finally catch your breaths, he lifts his head to place a kiss on your lips. He pulls back and huffs a laugh.

“Shit… are you okay?” He asks, placing soft kisses along your collarbone, bringing you back to earth. You struggle to find the words, but eventually open your mouth to speak.

“Yes… I feel amazing…” he chuckles at your answer, your voice coming out croaky.

“I’m glad. Did I fuck your brains out?” He smirks when you nod, and places another kiss on your lips as his hands rub soothing circles on your back. He rests his forehead against yours, looking into your eyes. You untangle your arms from around his neck and place your hands on either side of his face, admiring his features. “I was serious, you know. About the vacancies,” he explains to you. “I can ask my father to arrange a job interview. I’m dead serious, darling.”

You chuckle, the sound of your soft laugh making him smile. You tilt your head. “Hmm… I think you’re just trying to get into my pants…” you tease, to which he chuckles.

“But I already did. Twice” he replies in a low voice, making you giggle. “Oh, and one more thing.” He adds, looking at you, his playful expression turning into a soft one. “Would you go on a date with me?”

Your lips curve into a smile. “Yes. I would love to.”

taglist: @melsunshine @tsujifreya @fan-goddess

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen one shot #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen x you #moder aemond targaryen #modern aemond targaryen smut #hotd #hotd smut #ewan mitchell #ewan mitchell fic #mydemimondewrites

459 notes · View notes

kurishiri · 3 months ago

Text

95k bonus . . . Liebe geht durch den Magen

꒰ ִ ֺ ⊹ @ notice ⊹ ֺ ִ ꒱ this translation may not be 100% accurate or contain creative liberties due to characterization or narrative flow purposes. if you enjoy, please consider reblogging, but don’t repost these or claim these as your own!

꒰ ִ ֺ ⊹ @ warning ⊹ ֺ ִ ꒱ none; it’s really just vogel being silly! hope you’re ready for the dari, nica, and ring galore, hehe.

Kate: A tea party with all of the members of Vogel…?

Victor: Mhm, it seems like all of them have taken an interest in you. So they asked for a chance to speak with you.

Kate: Well, seeing as I’m the only one who isn’t Cursed, I guess it makes sense they would hold an interest.

Victor: Indeed. …How would you like to answer? It’s completely up to you.

V: …However, both parties hold their own secrets.

V: And we do often take care of them, seeing as they are diplomatic guests.

V: Should there be anything making you anxious, or you feel even slightly you don’t want to do this, or anything of the sort, then you are always free to turn them dow—

Kate: …Victor. I will attend the tea party.

Victor: Wait, really? Are you sure?

Kate: Since they have come here to deepen relations between the organizations, turning down an opportunity like this wouldn’t leave a good impression, I’d imagine.

K: And besides, I would like to be of some use to you and Crown, for extending such hospitality to me.

When I expressed my honest feelings, Victor’s expression softened in turn.

Victor: I’m grateful for your honesty. Well then, it’s about time I give them a response.

V: Ahh, but… I’ll have Roger listen in from nearby, so if something happens you can just give a shout, okay?

V: No matter the time and place, I’ll come running.

After Victor’s words resonated in my heart, several days passed——

Darius: Thank you for accepting our invitation, miss fairytale keeper.

D: Did you perhaps prepare everything on this table?

Lined up on the table was filled to the brim with snacks, causing Darius to blink.

Kate: Victor and I prepared them. We were hoping it would be nice if you could eat these…

K: And that we can be on more friendly terms as we’re chatting like this.

Ring: You want to be on more friendly terms with the ones who might kill you? I don’t see the point?

Kate: …Gh.

Nica: Riiing, now don’t go saying gruesome things like that. You’ll bother the Spatzi.

N: So sorry about that? Ring is a Jungfrau [1] who tends to get a bit more nervous around cute girls.

Wearing an amiable smile as he faced me, Nika lifted the heavy air around us.

Kate: Jung…?

Ring: Y-you don’t have to ask what it is! …And also, it’s not like I’m nervous.

R: But, I won’t deny… that you are… cute…

He was simply cautious around me; it was not as though he was really doing me any harm for now.

…Even so, though, I myself had become ever so slightly anxious.

(The members of Vogel are also Cursed, if I recall, right…)

(If they had such intentions, they could easily take my life.)

The fear that I had first felt when I started working for Crown started to paint over my heart, when…

Darius: …Are you nervous, by any chance?

Donning a childlike innocence, Darius looked into my face.

Kate: Ah… umm…

Darius: Well, well… if we did possess a strong ability much like Sir Rex…

D: I wouldn’t blame you for feeling powerless even while simply conversing.

D: But you can relax around us. My ability will not kill you.

D: ——In fact, there is absolutely no way it will. Okay?

Nica: Oh, me and my brother’s abilities aren’t really harmful too.

N: That said, it can probably make you feel really good and maybe make you feel a bit fuzzy, but that’s actually a good thing, isn’t it?

Kate: R-right…

(Just what ability does that entail…?)

Although I still held my doubts, I knew that their abilities didn’t pose a danger to my life, which ebbed my fear.

Darius: Now then, now that you know we mean you no harm, how about we partake in these?

With Darius’ encouragement, Ring quickly reached out to a cake in front of him.

Ring: Mm…! This is really good.

Taking large bites, the cake was gone before I knew it, and Ring then reached out for another snack.

Nica: Geez, Ring, why are you just taking whatever’s in front of you? Pick the ones that especially look good.

While saying so, Nica reached for a baked pastry diagonal of him.

Nica: I recognize this shape. Isn’t this from the high-class bakery near the castle?

Kate: I’m surprised you know of it! That shop——

Nica: Mn… hm? It’s good, but did it really come from that shop?

Kate: Well, what I wanted to say was that shop’s pastry shapes were the inspiration for these homemade sweets.

That said, this time, Victor and I did make our rounds around a variety of bakeries, and put this together.

And I tried to make homemade pastries here at the castle that were freshly made or were hard to obtain.

Nica: They’re ‘homemade’? So they’re basically cheap foods, in which case I don’t want any.

Kate: Eh—

Nica: Here, Ring, say ‘ahh.’

Nica pushed his half eaten pastry into Ring’s mouth.

Ring: Mn… this is also really good…

When he was eating it, Nica said it was ‘good,’ but maybe he’s actually not good with homemade pastries…?

Darius: Hey, miss fairytale keeper, this is Baumkuchen [2], isn’t it?

This time, Darius called out to me while pulling on my sleeve.

Kate: That’s right. We figured since you’re here, we could prepare some German pastries… or that’s what Victor said.

Darius: Ho-oh…

Darius used a knife to lightly cut a slice before he carried it to my mouth.

Darius: Here, have a bite?

Kate: Mn… mmm, it’s really fluffy and delicious!

Darius: I’m glad to hear. Then it’s my turn.

With layers of the Baumkuchen spilling, Darius brought it to his mouth.

Darius: Mm, it’s delicious. …But, I take it it’s not something made in most of England. So where did you get this?

Kate: Actually, while I was racking my head on how to make Baumkuchen…

K: Victor made a gadget that could make it.

In order to make a delicious Baumkuchen by the tea party, I practiced baking it day in and day out.

…I feel that I can keep the fact that for some time the castle’s snacks consisted of nothing but Baumkuchen to myself.

Darius: He made a whole gadget just for this? Hmm… he’s quite strange, I’d say.

Kate: I can’t argue with that… but I’m sure it’s just that he was happy.

K: Happy that you guys, who are also Cursed, have come to England——or rather, to Crown.

Darius: …The pleasure is ours. I’m delighted at how warmly we’re treated here.

D: I do like the Baumkuchen, so do make it again sometime.

Kate: Alright!

I was so glad he liked it that I gave an immediate answer, but…

(Making it is quite time consuming and requires skill… but I’ll try my best.)

Nica: This topic’s all well and good, but what I really want to hear about the Spatzi [3] herself.

N: You know, like what fragrances you like, or which types of guys you fancy, that kind of thing… what about you, Ring?

Ring: Mngh…!? U-uhm…

R: ………M-maybe, like, which color of the sky she most likes?

Nica: The sophistication’s lacking, I see.

Ring: And what’s the problem with that?

Darius: I do agree with Nika here though. I would also like to get to know you better.

D: But simply asking would be a bore, so how about we play a guessing game?

Nica: So, Ratespiel? Now we’re talking.

Darius: Let’s make it so each person can make a single guess, and until then, we can continue asking questions…

D: Come play with us, why don’t you, miss fairytale keeper?

D: If possible… I would prefer you choose a topic that pertains to yourself.

Kate: Alright, then…

K: Out of the foods on this table, which one is my most favorite?

Darius: Hehe, that’s quite a charming topic? Then let’s start.

Nica: Sounds good to me, though I’d like to propose another twist.

N: The first person to guess the correct answer will be able to ask the Spatzi out on a date. Well, how about it?

Ring: A date…!? [surprised]

Darius: You do make a good point. A competition does call for a prize of sorts… well, miss fairytale keeper? Are you fine with this?

Kate: U-um, I think a date may be a bit——

When I tried to speak up, though, the three of them looked at me, causing my breath to catch in my throat.

Ring was looking at me with a guarded look, as though he were a guard dog who could tear my neck apart with a single order.

Nica was looking at me with a scrutinizing look, as though he was thinking about how to play with a toy.

And Darius was wearing an amiable smile, but his eyes alone were sharp, like that of a predator aiming for its prey——

With the three of them looking at me in their own way, I couldn’t bring myself to disagree, feeling myself surrounded by a heavy air.

Darius: ‘I think a date may be a bit’ what was that now?

Kate: …Nope, never mind. That works for me.

Overwhelmed by the pressure, I could only nod, and Darius returned the gesture with an angelic smile.

Like a signal, the tense atmosphere became more lax.

Darius: Thank you. Then, let the game start.

With that, the tea party proceeded such that Darius, Nika, and Ring asked me questions.

While the discussion occasionally went off track, this peaceful time continued to pass by——

Ring: I got it!

The one who had his answer ready first was Ring.

Darius: A friendly reminder that you only have one chance. If you miss the mark, that will be the end… are you sure you would like to answer?

Ring: Don’t worry, I’m sure of this.

R: The answer is——that fruit before your eyes!

Kate: …Miss.

Ring: Wh…!? I-I see… so it was wrong…

Ring looked a bit despondent at my answer, and though he looked like a guard dog before, in an instant, he looked more like an abandoned puppy,

and I had to desperately fight the urge to say ‘actually, it’s a hit.’

Nica: …Hey, Ring. Mind if I say how you got to your answer?

Ring: ‘How I got to my answer’?

Nica: When you were about to grab that fruit, the Spatzi said ‘go ahead’ to you with a smile and put it on your plate,

N: and so you held a positive association with that fruit, leading you to your answer?

Ring: N-now that you mention it… that might’ve been the case… it was completely unconscious…

Darius: Ahaha, you’re so adorably honest, Ring.

Nica: Well then, it’s about time I guess too. The correct answer is… this chocolate.

N: It’s a bit on the mini side, and it looks cute too, and not to mention the packaging is also intricate. It practically oozes the traits a girl would like.

Kate: Miss.

Nica: Oops, too bad.

As opposed to Ring, who seemed down upon getting his guess wrong, Nika didn’t show any signs of caring, even if he did.

It was as though he knew from the beginning his answer was wrong.

Darius: I would prefer you make a serious guess, or this game will really end up in a bore.

Nica: But I thought long and hard about what girls would like and picked based on that?

N: Besides, this is where a subordinate hands the torch to the master.

Nika gave a smug wink, and Darius shrugged his shoulders in response.

Darius: It seems I bear a great responsibility now. If I’m unable to answer correctly, I’m afraid the little miss fairytale keeper——

D: And Crown as well would be disappointed in me.

Kate: Don’t worry, I won’t be disappointed even if you don’t answer correctly. It’s just a game, after all.

Darius: Hmm, so you believe I won’t get the answer right, is that it?

Kate: That…

(If I’m being completely honest, yes, I did think that.)

(Because the answer to this question is… a bit special.)

Darius: Hehe, seeing you have such low expectations of me makes me want to try my utmost hardest.

D: Alright, I have my answer.

D: I see you were trying not to eat this chocolate cake, right?

D: Because you like it, you saved it for last, I take it. So, my answer is that chocolate cake.

I was about to reply with an immediate ‘miss,’ when he opened his mouth before me.

Darius: …is what a normal person would say, but that would be incorrect.

Kate: Eh…

Darius: The answer to your question is——-

D: ‘Everything here on the table.’

Kate: …That’s a hit.

Ring: A-all of it…!? Is that answer even possible?

Nica: Well, we never established that the said thing had to just be a single thing, so yeah, it’s fully possible.

N: But even so, way to bend the rules there, Spatzi. I didn’t think you had it in you.

N: …You really are an interesting one, aren’t you.

Darius: I did think it was a strange answer, but considering the little miss fairytale keeper’s character, it wasn’t too difficult.

D: Perhaps you thought something like, ‘If I’m preparing something for guests, I would choose the things I believe are the most delicious’… am I right?

Kate: It is as you say…

While consulting with Victor, I chose all of the pastries here.

So, that’s why if I were to choose my most favorite among these, the answer would naturally be ‘everything.’

Kate: It was a bit of an underhanded answer, so I didn’t think you would get it.

Darius: Hehe, but I did. Oh, but, I don’t think it’s underhanded.

D: After all, I take it you thought up of such an answer so that you didn’t have to assign winners and losers, yes?

Kate: Yes, there was also that. Since it was such a fun tea party, I didn’t want to label anyone as winners and losers…

Darius: To see you try to put us on an equal footing without assigning a winner…

D: You truly are sweet to the point it’s cloying… and kind as well.

Ring: B-by the way… will Darius ask her out? O-on a date, that is…!

Darius: Ahh, that nearly slipped my mind. Well, miss fairytale keeper, will you go out on a date with me next time?

Kate: …I will.

I didn’t have much reason to turn him down, and now that I got to talk with them like this, I started to become more interested in the members of Vogel.

(…And going out together with them seems pretty fun too.)

Nica: Okay, then, when you’re done with your date with Dari, let me know, okay? We can plan a date of our own then.

Kate: Eh—

Nica: The prize for the game was the right to ask you out on a date, but there’s no need to hinge something like that on a game, right?

N: Besides, if the answer to the question is ‘everything on the table,’ that would technically make my answer right, too, yeah?

Kate: I… guess so…?

Nica: And you caught my interest too anyway…

N: …Ah, that’s right. Since we’re talking about this, why don’t you invite the Spatzi on a date too, Ring?

Ring: O-on a date…!? I… I’ll pass.

R: …But when you go on your date with Nica and Darius, I’ll tag along behind you guys.

Nica: Wait, why though?

Ring: If she’s around, you’ll let your guards down and lose sight of your surroundings, right?

R: So I’ll cover those bases during your date.

Nica: Ehh…

Darius: Hehe, thank you, Ring.

D: …Hey, miss fairytale keeper. I must say that half a day isn’t nearly enough.

D: Why don’t we take our sweet time chatting on our date, the two of us?

A smile played on Darius’ lips, and I couldn’t look away from his honey-colored eyes.

Just then, I remembered Victor’s words from before I went out.

—— Flashback ——

Victor: Ahh, that’s right, Kate. There’s one thing I should say.

V: If you wish to return to your normal everyday life after this month passes… you mustn’t let your heart get stolen by them.

—— End flashback ——

(It’ll be alright… I think I was able to enjoy this time today when I tried talking to them.)

(This feeling won’t blossom into love. Surely…)

Fin.

will vs darius jude vs nica alfons vs ring

NOTES:

[0] according to our handy google translate, the title of this story, Liebe geht durch den Magen, translates to “love goes through the stomach.” I assume this may reference or be the equivalent to a similar English saying, “the way to one’s heart is through their stomach.”

[1] “virgin” in German nhdkshfds

[2] and here we have a quote from Wikipedia: Baumkuchen is a kind of spit cake from German cuisine. It is also a popular dessert in Japan. The characteristic rings that appear in its slices resemble tree rings, and give the cake its German name, Baumkuchen, which literally translates to “tree cake” or “log cake”.

[3] originally, I had Rotkehlchen, which is like the literal translation for “robin” as far as I know. Spatzi means “sparrow,” but can be used as a term of endearment in the same way the Crown members call Kate “robin” out of endearment. In his collection story event, he mentions that the word he used is German for robin, but it could be localized to something like “it is a German-equivalent term of endearment for robin.” Thanks to @.citrusmornings for providing this link!

END NOTES: did you enjoy this story? because i know i did, haha. i really enjoy all the vogel characters so far; they all have interesting personalities, and they bounce off each other in a fun way as well.

honestly, i’m still trying to sort of get an idea of how i want to sort of translate and write these characters. overall, though, i tried to give darius a more innocent air, with some hints of his nobility, while also having a strong sort of presence. and i tried to capture nica’s sort of casual and flippant (but also clever and sharp) air, which contrasts with how ring gets shy and flustered pretty easily.

i’d love to hear your thoughts!

full masterlist 🕊️

251 notes · View notes

sissylittlefeather · 1 month ago

Text

Kinktober Day 8: Cockwarming

Daddy Likes His Football

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, cussing, kissing, Elvis being a bit dominant, reader being bratty, fingering, oral sex (m receiving), p in v penetrative sex, unprotected sex, cockwarming

Word count: ~1.2k

This is a sequel to Daddy Likes His Coat.

Kinktober Masterlist

In between tours in 1972, Elvis settles into Graceland like a hermit, but he has you there with him. He assures you you're the only company he needs. And you know why. He can't go anywhere these days without being mauled by fans. When he was younger, it didn't bother him so much. He even enjoyed it. But now he just wants to be left alone to live his life.

You're a little bored with being stuck in the house, but you'd never tell him that. One Sunday afternoon you wander around the house looking for him. You're wearing one of his pajama shirts and nothing else, having just woken up from a nap. The house is weirdly quiet, but a lot of the guys spend Sundays with their families, so you figure he's alone. Finally, you find him.

He's in the TV room with three different football games playing on the three TVs. You walk up to him cautiously and run your fingers in his hair. He holds the back of your thigh but doesn't take his eyes off the TVs.

"Daddy, I'm bored."

"You're such a brat, little one. Wanting constant attention." He still won't look at you. You roll your eyes and scoff. Then, you knock the remote onto the floor.

"Oops." You bend over right in front of him, giving him a full view of your pussy. He doesn't acknowledge you, but he definitely notices. He's just not quite ready to give into your brattiness yet. You huff and slam the remote on the table. Again, he ignores you. Still, his dick twitches in his pants as it begins to harden.

"God, you're a needy little thing." He mumbles. You pick up his hand and suck two of his fingers into your mouth and then move down and push them up inside you. He pumps them a few times and then pulls them out, lazily licking them. He knows that will drive you insane. You put your hands on your hips and glare at him.

"Daddy. Am I really less interesting than football?" You pout and still he pretends to ignore you. Secretly, he's hard as a rock watching your little display.

"Cleveland is about to score, baby. I can't pay attention to you right now." You roll your eyes and go to walk away, but he grabs you and pulls you into his lap. "You're a menace, little one. You and this needy pussy." He runs his hand up your thigh and starts to play with your clit. You roll your head back and moan loudly. His hands go to his zipper and you try not to squeal with excitement. "I'm gonna fill her up and see if you'll leave me alone then."

He rearranges you and pulls you down to sink your pussy onto his cock facing away from him. He grunts softly, but doesn't stop watching the game. You start to move on him and he grabs your hips to hold them still.

"Distracting, honey. Stop." He holds you in his lap with his dick so far inside you, but doesn't move. The feeling of him deep in your pussy makes you want to scream, but you try to keep your composure.

Then, Cleveland scores. He yells and bucks his hips and you almost cum right then and there.

"Daddy..." You moan loudly as he holds you on his cock.

"A minute and thirty left in the game, honey. I'll fuck you when it's done. Unless you move too much and then I'll leave you unsatisfied."

"You wouldn't dare."

"Wouldn't I?" His hips buck once, but he stops and leaves you begging for more.

"Please. Please daddy...." You whine and whimper and squirm on his lap. You try to stand up off of him to turn and straddle him, but he holds you in place on his lap.

"Did daddy say you could move?"

"Please..." You hiss as your orgasm approaches.

"Game's almost over, baby. Tell daddy what you want." The clock reads :32 seconds left. You pray it'll be over quickly.

"I want you to fuck me!" You moan loudly. He just chuckles and runs his fingertips up and down your back as he continues to fill your pussy completely.

"You'll sit here until daddy is ready, or you'll go to bed alone tonight." You whimper and wiggle and try to get more friction as he watches the game. Finally, he pulls his hand back and smacks the side of your ass, hard. The sting reverberates through your body straight to your center and you moan. "What did I say?"

"Yes, daddy. I'll be still." You whine, nibbling on your bottom lip, but you don't move again. The Browns score another touchdown and you whimper softly as he celebrates. But there's a flag and they call it back. He sits up and starts yelling and gesturing wildly at the TV. You almost scream with the sensation of him finally moving inside you, your orgasm so close you can feel the edge of it. You whisper quietly.

"Elvis, please..."

"Oh you brat, you. This little pussy just can't handle not being fucked. Is that it?"

"Please..." You hold onto his knees and almost burst into tears. He realizes he's pushed you far enough and softens, pulling you back against him and kissing your neck tenderly. His voice is gentle as he whispers in your ear.

"You want me to fuck you, baby?"

"Yes, yes please!"

"Turn around, doll." You do as you're told and turn to face him and straddle his hips. He pulls you down onto his dick and watches over your shoulder as the game ends and the Browns win. After what feels like forever, he looks up into your face and cups your cheek with his hand. "My pretty baby. So needy, but I yove her. Go ahead and get what you came down here for."

You giggle with delight and start to move on him as he grabs your hips, his cock hitting your g-spot with every bounce and roll. You moan and press your forehead against his and whisper.

"Fuck."

"You gonna cum for me, sweetheart?"

"All over your dick, daddy."

"Good girl." He rubs on your clit with his thumb a bit to really send you over the edge and you shudder and pulse on him as your orgasm washes over you. He groans with the sensation of your walls squeezing him. You sigh, satisfied, and then kiss the end of his nose.

"Mmmm, your turn now, daddy. How do you want it?" He grabs your chin in his hand and kisses you. Then he mumbles against your lips.

"I want this dirty little mouth, baby. The next game is on and you're in my way." You can tell by his tone that he's joking, mostly, so you smile and climb off of him, settling between his knees. He shifts his hips to give you better access and then groans as you take him in your mouth. You go to work licking and sucking and swirling your tongue over the tip of his cock. He loves it when you do this. You're the best head he's ever had and he grunts as his climax approaches. The football games play on the TVs behind you, but somehow he forgets to watch.

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

@ccab @atleastpleasetelephone @deltafalax @msamarican @angschrof @lustnhim @jhoneybees @polksaladava @searchingforgravity @librababe99 @hooked-on-elvis @your-nanas-house @peaceloveelvis @makethemorning @theelvisprincess @mrspresley69

Anyone else want a Kinktober tag everyday?

#elvis presley #elvis #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis fanfic #elvis presley fic #elvis smut #elvis fanfiction #elvis fic #elvis presley x reader #elvis x reader #elvis x you #elvis x y/n #elvis presley smut #elvis presley x y/n #elvis presley x you #kinktober 2024 #kinktober

169 notes · View notes

latenightdaydreams · 2 months ago

Note

i love your content so much omg thank you so much for writing these so frequently and welll!!!!! How about a pt 3 to mafia konig x CEO reader where reader finds out that she’s preggy without konig knowing and is scared he’s going to throw her away bc of her pregnancy. She acts like a sad kicked dog, being on her pink comfy bed curled up and whenever he fucks her she looks like she’s going to cry. When he finally finds out she sobs her eyes out and tries to escape again.

💗💗Thank you!

Mafia!König x CEO Part 3 (fem)

Part 1, Part 2

MDNI🔞

Master List✍🏽

>cw: fem/afab, non-con, p in v, pregnancy, choking

1.7k word count

It’s been four months since you’ve become König’s ‘pet’; three months since your last period. König hasn’t noticed, when he’s with you he doesn’t think about your cycle. He only cares if you’ve eaten and if he can fuck you.

You sit on your little pink dog bed in his office with your collar attached by a chain to the wall behind you. König had to leave for a meeting, leaving you alone in his office. The chain is so short that you can’t move around if you wanted to. Even your hands are bound behind your back, leaving you to simply sit on your pink dog bed and wait.

While you wait for him to return, you think about different ways you could possibly escape before he finds out. The fear of him knowing and getting rid of you like trash is forefront in your mind. You don’t only have to worry about your own life, but now the life of this life is developing inside of you. While you doubt you can be a mother to it, you still find yourself oddly attached. In this trauma, it’s as if you have something to hold on to.

The office door swings open and König stomps angrily. His eyes land on you and he smiles softly under his sniper hood. Seeing you waiting there for him like a good little pet always brightens his mood. He closes and locks the door behind him, walking over to you.

König kneels in front of you, petting your head gently with his gloved hand as he tilts his head. “I’ve missed you, Maus.” His hand drifts down to your jaw, grabbing it and forcing you to look into his eyes. “Have you missed me?”

“Yes.” You say but it just comes out as more of a muffle with the gag.

“Good girl.”

König stands again and unlocks the chain that kept you to the wall, using it as a leash to walk you to his desk. He sits down on the strong wooden desk and looks down at you as you remain on all fours before him. His eyes travel up and down your naked body before tugging on your leash.

“Stand up.” He holds one hand out to assist you.

You look at his hand before accepting the help and standing you. König looks at your body, taking his time to linger on your breasts and abdomen. A small panic sets in as you wonder if he’s noticed any change in your body. Looking down at yourself, it doesn’t seem like there are any obvious signs of pregnancy just yet.

“Schön.” He speaks under his breath as he pulls his gloves off followed by his mask. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you all day today. I hate being busy.”

Your mouth relaxes as he takes the gag off of you, allowing you to feel slightly more comfortable. His pale blue eyes linger on your face for a while before leaning in to kiss you; his lips clashing against yours with an undeniable hunger for you. He allows his hands to travel over your body, cupping your breasts and twirling your sensitive nipples between his fingers as his tongue swirls around yours.

König gentle turns, switching spots with you so that you’re leaned up against the desk. Mentally, you’re trying your best to stay in the moment but you can’t stop thinking about the fact that you’re pregnant and stuck here with a dog collar on. Stuck here with a man that just might kill the both of you. While König has shown a soft side, he has also shown how incredibly heartless he can be.

He lets his hands drift down your body to your thighs and lifts you on to the desk. When he pulls back from the kiss, he begins to undress himself. You look down at his erection as his pants fall to the floor making König’s lips pull into a cocky grin. He knows that no matter how much you try to deny it, you find him attractive- even if only deep down inside.

“Spread your legs open for me. Be a good pet.”

You lean back and grab behind your knees, parting your legs wide for him. His eyes lock on to your pussy, reaching out to slip one finger between your folds and circling your clit. He steps closer, pulling that hand away and spitting in his palm to lubricate his dick.

“What do you say?” His blue eyes lock on yours as you feel his thick cock rub your slit.

“Please fuck me, Master.”

“Good girl.”

König thrusts forward into you. The same little breathless moan he makes leaves him as his eyes close for a moment to fully enjoy the sensation of your gummy walls around him. His hips rock back and forth slowly until his eyes open again. He grabs your waist, making you flinch, but he ignores it. His mind is too clouded with the sensation of pleasure to notice your small hints of discomfort.

The rhythmic sound of his hips bucking against your supple jiggling ass echoes in the room. Your walls clench around his girth as you squirm on the desk beneath him, your eyebrows pinched together with a small frown. His eyes watch as his cock pumps in and out of you, your wet cunt leaving behind a thick ring of creamy white arousal on the base of his cock. One of his hands slips up your body, slapping your breasts before wrapping around your neck.

Lost in the waves of ecstasy, his grip slowly gets tighter and tighter. You take deep breaths trying to not make him angry but asking him to stop. The thought of what if he kills you runs through your mind as his grip gets more intense. Underneath his breath he praises your body in German, not paying attention to how oxygen deprived you are. Finally, you grab his arms and squeeze it, begging for relief.

König doesn’t argue, lessening his grip on you and leaning down to kiss your neck. Your head turns to the side as your mind falls away to the gravity of the situation that you find yourself in. Unable to control yourself a silent tear rolls down your face. Still, you try your hardest to hold back your emotions; taking a deep shaky breath to try and calm down.

“Fuck, Maus. Your pussy is so good.” His thrust loses their rhythm, high pitched moans accompanying his words. “Beg for my cum.”

When he looks at your face, he notices the shiny tear streak and the look of emotional torment in his eyes. Just wanting to cum he looks down again and listens to your voice fake arousal and beg for him to cum inside of you. His balls tighten as he holds your shoulders to shove himself fully inside of you. As his cock throbs, coating your walls in his thick sticky cum.

After lingering for a moment, he pulls out and just looks at you. Wiping sweat from his forehead, he shifts his weight and lets out a huff. “What’s wrong with you?” He asks in a no bullshit tone.

“Nothing.” You say unconvincingly.

“Don’t lie to me.” His arms cross over his board chest.

“I’m not.”

“Down.” He snaps his fingers for you like you would a dog for you to kneel.

You sit up and hop off his desk, getting on the floor and kneeling before him. He walks closer to you and looks down at your disappointment that you think you can lie to him. A thick silence lingers in the air between you both before he speaks up again.

“Every time I touch you lately it’s like you’re about to cry. I know I’m not your favorite person, Maus, but I know you love my cock. Why are you crying now?”

You look up at him, not saying a word still as you mentally jump through hoops.

“Tell me what is wrong or else you’re sleeping with that muzzle on.”

Tears burn your eyes as he knows how much the gag hurts your jaw when he has you wear it all day, the thought of sleeping with it on causes an instant reaction from you. Still, you remain silent. Your heart sinks as you watch him walk over to your muzzle and strap it back on you.

Two weeks have passed since the situation and he’s dropped it. So, you thought. When you wake up this morning you see König standing by the bed looking down at you with a small box in his hand. You rub your eyes and sit up, focusing on what he’s holding.

“You’re taking one.” König says, in his hand a box of pregnancy tests.

As you sit on the toilet and pee on the stick, König stands there watching to make sure you don’t try to hide anything. Your hand shakes as you hold the test. His mask is on so you can’t see the expression he has underneath. Once done, he snatches the test from you and steps back to let you clean yourself up.

Pregnant. Just as he suspected. Underneath his mask he smiles. He’s always wanted a family, but has never been able to keep a woman. Yet here you are, already giving him a family. Before he can react, you begin to sob.

You collapse onto the tile of the bathroom floor as a waterfall pours from your eyes. König looks bewildered, not expecting such a strong emotional response from a usually strong woman. He steps forward cautiously as if he isn’t trying to scare you. He kneels down next to you and reaches out to caress your back.

“Don’t cry.” He says awkwardly, not knowing how to comfort you. “I can get you food. Would you like that? Maybe you can stay in the big bed?”

You gaze up at him and nod. König stands and looks at how small and helpless you seem on the floor. It hurts his heart, but he also loves knowing that you’re really trapped now.

“I’ll be back.” He stands and leaves the room, locking the door from the outside.

You continue to sob until you realize that he’s just left you alone in the room without being chained to the wall. In a hurry, you jump up and begin looking through every and any drawer you can open. Inside of the desk you find files held together with paper clips. Quickly, you grab two and hide them under the bed. Your heart thumps in your chest as a light of hope comes to you again.

226 notes · View notes

uluvjay · 1 year ago

Text

Plum- J. Drysdale

Jamie Drysdale x fem! Reader

In which the ducks anniversary jerseys are looking very good on your boyfriend.

Warnings?; SMUT, breeding kink, p in v, unprotected sex(Wear protection!), pet names, cursing, kissing, those fucking plum jerseys, talks of starting a family, I can’t think of more

Part of my 1kcelly:)

You hadn’t been able to sit still since he left the house dressed in the plum colored Jersey. The way it complimented his pale skin and dark hair had his eyes appearing brighter and jaw sharper.

You had always found the jerseys appealing ever since he told you that was what the team would be going with for their 30th anniversary.

But what you weren’t expecting was just how good he looked in said jersey. When he walked out of your shared bedroom wearing the jersey over a hoodie and a pair of joggers for the Ducks community event, you had just about dropped to your knees for him right then and there.

"Baby I'm home" you heard his voice call from the entry way of your new home, finally getting somewhat rid of Trevor allowing some more privacy.

"Living room!" you shouted back, acknowledging the boy of your whereabouts.

Strutting in still clad in the plum jersey he leaned down to give you a kiss in greeting, "Hi baby" he smiled when you two separated.

“Hi” you muttered out before hastily pulling the boy back down to your lips.

Jamie groaned as he felt you attempting to deepen the kiss, your nails had slipped into his hair and tugged at his dark roots causing Him to open his mouth in a gasp, allowing your tongue to enter his mouth.

“Mm, baby. What’s all this for?” He asked as he pulled away for air.

“Missed you” you whined as he pulled back when you tried to bring him down again.

“Missed me? Baby we’ve been together al-“ the boy cut himself off as he finally took a full look at you. Your thighs were clenched, lip slightly pouted and red, and your eyes were darkening with blown out pupils.

“Ohh, I get it. You just want some attention huh baby? Tell me what got you all worked up” he teased as he sat next to you and pulled you onto his lap.

“S embarrassing” you mumbled, face buried in his neck.

“How so?” He laughed, his hands running up and down your thighs smirking at the shiver that ran down your spine.

Playing with the strings of his hoodie you finally admitted just what had gotten you so turned on, “The damn jersey was the first thing and then I kept seeing videos of you all over Twitter playing with kids and holding babies, and god do you look good with a baby in your arms. It was quite unfair really” you grumbled into his chest.

Jamie smirked at your words, the two of you had been talking about kids for a long time but you knew it wasn’t the right time. But that didn’t stop the two of you from fucking like bunnies every time one of your breeding kinks kicked in.

Jamie tangled a hand in your hair to pull you head away from his chest, causing a whine to escape your throat at the pain. “You just want me to fuck you full huh baby?” He mocked as he felt you grind against him.

You let out a pathetic whimper in response, hips rolling against his in attempt to settle the ache between your legs.

“Please Jamie..” you breathed

“Take your pants off for me” he spoke before lifting his own hips to pull down his pants and boxers.

His hard cock springing out from the restricting material he wrapped his hand around it and slowly jerked himself while he waited for you to take your place on his lap.

“Come here baby” he called a hand reaching for one of you own to pull you on top of him.

He pulled you into a heated kiss, one that had your breath hitching and yearning for more when he pulled away for air.

“Jamie..” you breathed but he cut you off with soft shushes as he angled you over his cock.

“It’s okay baby, just breathe for me-there you go, good girl” he worked you through the stretch of your cunt from his cock.

“Shit Jamie, you’re so big” you cried at the feeling of him bottoming out inside of you.

A shiver ran down Jamie’s back as he slowly started to guide you up and down his cock by your hips, a slow and sweet pace.

He placed his head in your neck, lips sucking and nipping along your warm skin. He loved the way your body reacted to him, his cock coaxing whines from your throat while your manicured nails dug into the fabric of his plum jersey.

“Doing so good for me baby, such a good girl” he praised.

He loved fucking you slow but he couldn’t hold off much longer, he was getting close and he needed something more.

Pinning you against his chest with his arms locked behind your back, he positioned his feet against your coffee table before thrusting his hips into you at an unforgivable pace.

“Oh! Shi-Jamie” you mindlessly babbled at the new pace. His cock hit all the right places, his tip brushing right against your g-spot.

Your toes curled as you could feel the tightness forming in your lower stomach, cried becoming louder and louder.

“Shit I’m getting close baby” he groaned into your hair.

“Me to Jamie-fuck! Come for me please baby.” You encouraged the man beneath you, fingers slipping into his dark locks.

He brushed wet kisses along the skin of your bare shoulder before he sucked in a deep breath at the euphoric feeling washing over him.

“I’m coming” he shivered, spilling his seed deep inside your clenching core.

He could tell you were almost there by the way your walls were clenching around him tighter and tighter as he continued to thrust up into you, sharp breaths and whines coming from your throat.

“I’m coming Jamie!” You cried into his neck as you felt the shiver run down your spine and shaking of your thighs be unbearable.

You two sat like that for a moment, his hands running along your back while he placed loving kisses to the side of your head.

“I guess I should wear the plum jersey more often eh?” He teased.

“Shut up” you laughed placing a light slap to his arm.

#jamie drysdale imagine #jamie drysdale x reader #jamie drysdale #jamie drysdale blurb #jamie drysdale smut #nhl #nhl fanfiction #hockey imagine #nhl imagine #nhl smut #anahiem ducks #anaheim ducks #jays1kcelly

823 notes · View notes

lustfulslxt · 1 year ago

Text

Party Revelations - Matt Sturniolo

summary : basically oc and matt have sexual tension that they act on at a party

warnings : sexxxx

a/n : this is just one of my oneshots from my ao3 acc, enjoy 😘

—

vivian stood in front of her mirror, glancing at her outfit to make sure she looks good for tonight.

her and her best friends; madi, nick, matt, and chris were going to their other friend's party. chris and madi have been wanting to go out and have fun, but wanting the rest of them to join as well. so that's what they're doing tonight, going to a party.

as she stared at her reflection, a proud smirk pulled to her lips. she looked good. she had a mini black skirt with fishnets underneath, a fitted off the shoulder black mesh top with a tiny bralette underneath, and black docs laced on her feet. her hair was curled perfectly and she had a dark smokey eye going on.

"v, you ready?" madi calls out, opening the door to her friend's room.

"yup." vivian replied and grabbed her phone, following madi out.

the two girls made their way out to the mini van and squeezed in the back with nick, matt being behind the wheel and chris riding shotgun. they all greeted one another before matt started driving towards the party.

throughout the whole drive, matt and vivian kept stealing glances at one another. he kept finding his eyes watching her through the rear view mirror, loving everything about the way she looked right now. he couldn't help but stare at her lips, oh how badly he wanted them wrapped around him, taking all of him at once. and her body, the way she moved and how she looked in her skimpy clothing. he wanted nothing more than to take her on the hood of his van right then and there.

vivian was in the same boat. matt looked so incredibly breathtaking to her, it was making her hot. he was wearing his black ransom zip up hoodie, black sweatpants, and his white forces. it was a simple outfit that was similar to what he wore everyday, but it still made vivian's insides tighten. the way his hair fell over his forehead, looking so extremely pullable. she wanted nothing more than to become one with him.

the five friends had been at the party for around half an hour now, the majority having split up. madi and nick were drinking together, goofing off in their own little bubble. chris had met up with some of his other friends, smoking with them outside. vivian had already had quite a few shots, and was now dancing by herself as she felt the alcohol flow through her veins. matt was simply standing against the wall with a drink in his hand, watching her.

matt loved the way her body moved, the way she sexily swayed to the music. the way her hands found themselves moving up and down her body and tangling in her hair. she was in her own little world and all matt wanted to do was take her home and fuck her senseless.

see, sure they were friends, but it was different than all of their other friendships. there was deep sexual tension that neither of them acted on in fear of ruining their good relationship. however, the way she looked right now had matt wanting to risk it all.

the song that vivian was originally dancing to had ended, causing her to pause for a moment and observe her surroundings. that's when she noticed matt leaning against the wall with his eyes on her and only her. his intense gaze had her damn near clenching her thighs together to get some sort of friction where she wanted him most.

as a new beat started, vivian bit her bottom lip to prevent her smile from plastering over her face. the song was 'all the time - jeremiah' and it was only setting the mood even more, so she beckoned him over with her finger. he downed the rest of his cup before setting it on the table next to him and walking in her direction.

"dance with me, matty." she spoke in a sultry voice, wrapping her arms around his neck.

he didn't say a word, but pulled her hands from around him and stepped behind her instead. his hands met around her waist, softly running up and down her sides as she swayed to the beat. she placed one of her hands on his and the other went around to the back of his neck again. she continued moving to the music, grinding her hips against his. he pulled her even closer to him, her body flushing against his.

within seconds, his dick stiffened a bit, enjoying the movement of her ass pressed against it. she, too, enjoyed the feeling of it, causing her breath to slightly hitch. matt had leaned his head down, placing his face in the crook of her neck and deeply inhaling her scent. the warmth of his breath arose goosebumps across her skin, it now feeling like it's on fire beneath his touch. the moment he placed a soft open mouth kiss on her neck, she knew she was done for. the feeling of his wet lips on her made her let out a soft whimper, which caused matt's head to snap to her face. that sound went right through him and he knew right then, he needed to hear it again. over and over and over.

"let's go." his voice spoke, husky and rasp.

he didn't even wait for a response, just interlocked their hands and made his way to the stairs. she eagerly followed, not exactly sure of what was happening but still had somewhat of an idea. and that idea made her panties soaked.

matt had walked her all the way down to the end of the hall, entering the bedroom that's off limits to anyone other than their friend group. he pulled her in and locked the door behind them. the two just stared at one another in silence. vivian's big doe eyes gazed up at his and he just wanted to fuck her until they were rolling back into her head.

"you look good tonight." he spoke, his voice still low and slightly hoarse, as he looked her up and down.

"thank you." she smiled, doing the same to him, "you too."

he slowly walked over to her and placed his hands on her waist, pulling her chest against his. their eye contact remained unfazed and stayed connected, making the bulge in his pants grow even more. the two were so close, they could feel each other's breath fanning one another's skin. vivian's eyes flickered from his to his lips and back quickly, but he noticed.

matt swiftly grabbed her jaw and pulled her into him, crashing his lips down onto hers. they moulded together so perfectly, both wanting this moment to last forever. after a moment of their lips working together, he pulled back to look into her eyes again, trying to see if there was any hesitation or reluctance, to which he found none, so he continued.

once again, their lips met in a heated passion. vivian's hands traveled up matt's chest and one set on the back of his neck while the other grabbed a fistful of his hair. upon giving it a light tug, a low groan escaped matt's lips and it made her stomach twist in need. he was so pretty to her and the sound that just came from his mouth almost had her cumming already.

matt's tongue flicked across her bottom lip, begging for entrance, which she granted. their kisses were rushed and wet and hot, tongues gliding over one another with ease. his hands traveled down her body once more, gripping onto her ass and squeezing tightly, causing her to moan against his lips. it drove him crazy.

he briefly pulled away from her and ordered, "take your shoes off."

once both of them had removed their shoes, their lips reconnected. matt's hands went down to her thighs, swiftly pulling her up and walking her to the bed. he laid her down and crawled on top of her, his legs slightly straddling her thighs as his crotch rubbed against hers.

he broke their kiss and turned her head, and began leaving sloppy wet kisses up and down her neck, biting down here and there. both of their breathing's were heavy, lips swollen and red, glistening with each other's saliva.

"fuck, you look so good tonight, vivi." he groaned against her skin, grinding his hips against hers, a soft moan coming from both of them.

her hands immediately reached down to his sweatpants, her fingers tugging at the string the tightened them. once the tie was undone, her fingers looped behind the elastic, but his hand stopped her for just a moment.

"are we really doing this?" matt asks her, wanting nothing more than for them to finally give in to their strongest desires, but also needing to make sure this was exactly what she wanted as well.

vivian frantically nodded, "please. i want you so bad, matty.”

matt was rock hard at this point and her response caused his dick to twitch, begging for her. the two pulled apart once again, both of them removing their tops, before connecting again. their kiss was heated, both of their tongues exploring each other's mouths.

when she tugged on his hair again, he pulled away and began leaving wet kisses down her neck and to her torso. his hands roamed her body, before landing on her boobs. he took turns with them, squeezing and tweaking one nipple while his mouth was sucking and nibbling on the other. vivian was letting out soft moans that only encouraged matt even more. she was loving every bit of the way he touched her, and he was loving every bit of the way she felt from his touch.

"take these off." vivian spoke in a low tone, pulling at his pants once again.

he swatted her hand away and pinned them to her side, "ah, ah. we're doing things my way, pretty girl."

her hips bucked into his, her softly whining, wanting to just feel him already. he grinned at her reaction and kissed down her stomach, sucking at the skin on the way down. he parted from her and pulled her skirt down, tossing it to the side. his hand reached up and met her heat, rubbing her core through her panties and stockings. he could feel how wet she was through the clothing and it turned him on so much. she bucked her hips at him again, wanting to feel more.

"fuck, you're already soaking wet." he licked his lips, tossing his head back. "take these off, baby."

she hurriedly removed the rest of her clothes, as he did the same to himself, leaving them both naked. vivian was in awe of him. he looked so hot and the way his fully erect dick hit his stomach, once free from its restriction, made her want to take him down her throat. matt peered over at her body, his mouth watering at the sight. she was truly beautiful. he smiled at her and lent down, connecting their lips for a few soft kisses.

he then made his way down, lowering himself in between her legs. he was dragging his lips over her inner thighs and it was making her go crazy. he was teasing her and it was working.

"matt." she choked out, breathless from what he was doing to her. "p-please."

"please what, baby?" he smirked at her, licking all around her, except for where she needed him most.

"i want your face buried in my pussy." she admits, her face heating up at her own confession.

"as you wish."

with that, he began devouring her. his tongue was lapping her folds, sucking onto every piece of her. she was a moaning mess, her hands gripping his hair as she pushed them closer together. matt was in heaven. the way she sounded and tasted, he was close to cumming without her even touching him.

"you taste so good." he moaned against her pussy, sending vibrations through her body that left her trembling.

matt's finger found his way up, softly slicking between her folds while he sucked her clit. without warning, he shoved it into her hole, causing her body to slightly jerk as a loud moan escaped her lips. he kept pumping his finger in and out before adding another. with that, and his mouth doing wonders, vivian knew she was close.

"oh my- fuck." she moaned out, tugging on his hair. "i'm so close, matty."

he picked the pace up with his hand, inserting another finger as his thumb came into contact with her clit. he rubbed it back and forth, while his eyes watched her face. her eyebrows were furrowed with her eyes closed, and her bottom lip was between her teeth, attempting and failing to control her moans. upon feeling him stare, she looked down at him and both were starstruck. matt's face was glistening with her juices, his eyes holding so much lust and adoration in them. vivian's eyes were heavy and her face looked so fucked out.

"cum for me, baby." he orders, placing his mouth back into her, flattening his tongue against her pussy.

and just like that, her legs were shaking and she was releasing into his mouth with a loud pornographic moan. he sucked up every drop of her arousal, loving the way she tasted. then, he hovered back over her and shoved his fingers in her mouth for her to taste. she licked all over them and sucked hard, causing his dick to twitch. after removing his fingers from her mouth, he gripped her jaw and slammed his lips on hers. they shared an open wet kiss, tongues sliding all over as they both tasted her.

vivian reached her hand down, finally meeting his dick for the first time. he was rock hard, and emitting crazy heat. matt tossed his head back at the feeling of her hand on his shaft, inhaling sharply.

"i want you to fuck me so bad." she bit her lip and tightened her hand around him, pumping a few times before he abruptly flipped her over.

"face down, ass up."

she immediately complies, eager to be fucked like there's no tomorrow. her ass was in the air and her face buried into the bed, and matt sat there for a moment, taking in the view. he could see her pussy dripping, in need of his dick.

"you want me to fuck you like a little slut, huh?" he asks, his hands kneading her cheeks, his thumb running over her folds.

he placed his dick against her pussy, sliding it around, soaking it in her juices. once he rubbed it against her clit, she moaned and pushed her ass closer to him, but he stopped her. suddenly his hand came across her ass in a fast a hard motion, a loud smack sounding throughout the room.

she let out a whimper and he said, "i asked you a question.”

"please." she begged, "i just want you to make me your slut."

with that, he shoved his dick inside her without warning. she gasped loudly, not expecting all of him right away. he gripped her waist and began thrusting in and out of her. her shock immediately vanished and was replaced with pleasure.

"mm. you feel s-so good inside me." she moans in between each thrust.

"yeah, i bet you love the way i fuck you. i want you to cum all over my dick."

matt was fucking her fast and hard, her hands were clinging to the sheets beneath them. matt's breathing was heavy, he was doing everything in his power not to cum because she felt so good around him. as if he lost all control, he grabbed both of her arms and pulled them back, holding them together behind her, then started pounding even harder. she felt so full from him, she started bouncing her ass onto him, meeting him halfway, causing him to let out a string of moans and cuss words.

her entire body was shaking, the sound of skin slapping filled the air as she cried out. he was making her feel so good. he then reached below her, his fingers meeting her clit, and rubbing in a fast motion.

"OH FUCK!" she practically screamed, she was going crazy.

nobody has ever made her feel this way, and she wanted it forever. and so did matt. he was enjoying every single thing about it.

"i-i'm about to cum." she moans out.

matt groaned in return, "me too, baby. cum with me."

a second later, the room filled with loud high pitched moans. vivian's legs shook as she climaxed, her cum dripping down matt's dick. his hot load shot inside her, mixing both of their juices as he kept fucking her to ride out their high together.

vivian fell forward, matt collapsing on top of her. they were both trying to catch their breath, having just had the best orgasm of their lives. he pulled out and fell onto his back, laying right beside her. the two looked over at each other with goofy grins on their faces. she leaned into him, planting her lips on his, creating a passionate kiss between the two.

"i hope you know you belong to me now." matt tells her once they pull apart.

"that sounds like heaven." she smiled at him, "all i ever wanted was to be yours."

—

a/n : should i post the rest? i have another matt one and 2 chris, lmkkk. back to working on requests, feel free to send in more 🩵

425 notes · View notes