I'm Just Me

If she tries to run from Smoke dick:

Smoke wouldn’t let her get more than an inch. The moment he feels her hips shift or her body try to re oil from the sheer size and thickness of his dick his reaction would be instantaneous and physical. He wouldn’t shout or ask why, he would simply react.

He’d reach out with those large, calloused hands and seize her hips in a vice grip. He would haul her back against him with a brutal, singular motion, pinning her firmly against the mattress or the wall. He’d lean in close, his chest hard against her back because we know this man love to bend you over. Then he would speak in a low gravelly rumble against her ear or her neck.

“Where you think you goin’?”

He would use his weight to anchor her, ensuring she feels every inch of that dick pressing into her. He’d slowly drive that thick dick back in her. Smoke doesn’t do “gentle” when he feels her slipping away or trying to run. He takes control. There is no exit until he’s finished.

He’s keeping that stroke, he wants you crying on the dick.

When she presses her palm against his stomach or chest to push back:

It’s a signal, her saying “daddy, it’s too much.” Or “I can’t take it.” When he’s stretching her past her limit.

Smoke don’t react with hesitation he only gets triggered by her body fighting the girth and length of him. It makes his deepest, most possessive instincts come to life. Smoke ain’t a man of many words, and he isn’t one for gentle reassurance. To him, her resistance isn’t a request to stop it’s a sign that he successfully claimed every single inch of her.

Smoke will lean his full, heavy weight forward, pin her deeper into the mattress or the wall with either his hands on the backs of her thighs/knees. He may even bear hug her while he in it. He catches her wrists in one of his large hands with a steel grip and pin her arm above her head or firmly against his own chest.

Smoke would say little to no words. He’ll grunt, growl, breath heavy through his nose. He’ll look down at her his expression hard and neutral (😩😩😩) though the intensity in his gaze is scorching! He wants her to see that he knows exactly what she’s feeling.

“You mine…take it.”

He would hold her there, frozen and stretched, letting her feel the thickness of him pulsing deep inside her. Then with a slow, brutal efficiency, he would begin to drive back into her, he’d use his hips to grind his dick directly against her most sensitive spots, forcing her body to accommodate his size. Every thrust is a heavy, thudding impact that reminds her exactly who owns her. He won’t stop until her nails start to claw at his shoulders, his chest, his abs.

If she tries to run or pull away from his dick:

Stack wouldn’t react like Smoke. Instead, he’d treat it as a challenge, a playful game of cat and mouse. The moment he feels her recoil from his big dick he wouldn’t just grab her he’d tease her about it.

He might let her slide back just an inch, only to catch her by the waist with a low, melodic chuckle. He’d pull her back toward him with a sliding, sensual friction that makes her skin tingle. He’d lean in, his lips brushing against her ear, his voice a smooth, honeyed tone that vibrates through her entire body.

“Now, where you goin’, sugar? We just gettin’ to the best part,” he’d whisper.

Stack uses his charisma to coax her back, kissing her deeply, his tongue dancing with hers to distract her from the intimidation of his size. But once he had her settled, the “pretty gangster” disappears and the predator emerges. He’d grip her thighs, hoisting them higher over his shoulders to open her up completely. He would slide back in her with a slow, agonizing pace, watching her face with a smug, knowing grin. He wants her to feel the stretch to feel the way his dick sits perfectly against her spot.

When she presses her palm against Stack’s stomach, that frantic, trembling push that tells him it’s too much:

That his girth is stretching her to a breaking point. Stack don’t react like Smoke. Instead, he’d react with that chuckle and that smirk. To Stack, her resistance isn’t a signal to stop it’s a compliment. It’s the ultimate validation of his masculinity. He treats her struggle like a game he’s won.

Stack doesn’t pin her down with force he uses his charisma to dismantle her panic. He leans back just a fraction to look in her eyes. He’s got that predatory grin with deep dimples popping as he watches her expression of overwhelming desire. He’ll let her hand stay there for a moment, feeling the heat of her hand against his flexed muscles before slowly wrapping his fingers around her wrist and kissing the inside of it with his eyes still locked. Then he makes his voice sound all smooth and sexy.

“Now, baby…you know you want every single inch of this. Don’t lie to me. I can feel how tight you grippin’ me. You just a little overwhelmed by how big I am, ain’t you?”

Then he’ll guidance her hand down from his stomach, sliding her palm over the hard ridge of his hip and then directly into the base of his dick, forcing her to feel the thick, pulsing vein and the heavy weight of him as he remains buried deep inside her. He wants her to acknowledge the size of him, to feel the way his dick sits deep.

Then he moves, driving that dick at a slow pace. He pulls back until he’s almost out to tease her with the sensation of emptiness then he’s sliding back in with a steady pressure that makes her toes curl. All while watching her face and savoring every reaction.

“Just breath for me…open up for daddy. Take it all. I’m gon’ fill you up so full.”

Elias sat on the edge of the bed, jaw locked, running a palm over his face.

He wasn’t tired anymore.

That image of Annie, rich brown skin all bare and soft, body thick and glistening in the kitchen light, had branded itself into the back of his eyes. She was all hips and full tits, stomach soft, ass sitting high like it was carved just to make a man weak. Not even trying. Just breathing, reaching for coffee, bare as the day she was born.

And he saw it. Every damn inch.

The roundness of her ass as she stretched. The deep curve of her waist. The underhang of those heavy titties swaying when she turned fast, clutching the towel like it could do a damn thing.

He’d caught the glint of a chain between her breasts. A little silver one that Smoke must’ve left on her. Something about that made Elias twitch under his sweats.

He shouldn’t have stared. But he did.

Not once.

Not twice.

He saw too much, and now he was hard—full, fat, and pressing thick against the fabric like it needed air. He shifted, huffing, trying to ignore it. Palming it didn’t help. Thinking of something else didn’t help. All he could see was her.

Then he heard it.

The door next to his cracked just slightly, voices leaking out.

“Elijah, baby—”

“You walk your ass out like that again, we gon’ have a real problem.”

“I didn’t think he’d be up. I was gon’ come right back. Just wanted tea—”

“Walkin’ round like you forgot who put that arch in your back. Like that pussy don’t stay full off me.”

Annie giggled. Low. Breathless.

It punched Elias in the gut.

Then came the sound of lips. Wet, open kisses. Her whimpering. That kind of laugh that meant her robe had just come undone.

He blinked.

The bed dipped as he leaned back and slid his hand down, gripping himself through the fabric. Hard already. Could feel his own pulse in the way it throbbed up thick and long in his palm. He dragged his sweats down slow, freeing it, his chest already rising faster.

The next sound made him suck his teeth and lay back fully.

Slap.

Again.

Slap.

Annie gasped, loud enough to hear through the wall.

“You so damn disrespectful. Got my brother waking up to see what’s mine. You walkin’ around like your pussy don’t belong to me.”

“You—ahh—Elijah, wait—”

He was fucking her now.

You could hear it.

Annie was moaning, trying to hush herself but not really trying. And Smoke wasn’t quiet either.

“That’s what you wanted, huh? Wanted him to see what you got. You needed me to show off what I be workin’ with?”

Slap. Slap. Slap.

Her cries echoed through the wall. Elias gripped himself harder, eyes shutting tight.

Her voice hitched in a way that made it clear he just bottomed out.

The bed next door was squeaking now. No rhythm. Just chaos. Like Smoke was fucking her in punishment. Long, rough strokes. Using that weight. Making her take it.

Elias stroked slow. From the tip to the base, dragging his palm over the fat vein running along the side. Thick. Slick. His thumb swept across the top. Already wet. He bit his bottom lip, heart knocking.

Smoke kept going, “Sound like you creamin’ all over me. Pussy too good to be actin’ this dumb, Annie. I gotta fuck the sense back into you?”

Annie cried out. That high-pitched sound that came right before a squirt.

Elias’ eyes rolled shut. He pumped faster. Groaning.

“You like that? Huh? That what you needed? Dick so deep you can’t even talk?”

“Yes—yes—f-fuck, right there—don’t stop—”

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t even right.

But Elias couldn’t stop stroking.

Not when he could hear every bounce of her ass against Elijah’s lap. Not when he could picture it in detail—her bent over, robe hanging off one shoulder, hair a mess, face twisted up in pleasure while Smoke dug in deep, working her slow and deliberate, not letting her breathe. Holding her down, whispering filth in her ear.

She was mine first. I laid eyes on her first

That thought didn’t help. It made him grip harder.

He stroked from base to tip, squeezing, imagining what she looked like from the front. Her belly rippling from impact. Her eyes dazed. Her thighs trembling.

Smoke’s voice dragged him back, “Tell me whose pussy it is. Say it so my brother can hear you.”

Annie’s moan was long. Shaky.

“Yours—Elijah, baby, it’s yours—”

Elias groaned low. Gripped the base. Squeezed the tip. Rubbed slow with his thumb, making his own precum bead. It was leaking down his hand, sticky, warm. His breath sped up. He didn’t care how wrong it was.

He wanted to hear her break.

And she did.

“Don’t stop! Don’t stop! Oh my god—it’s so deep—I can’t—Elijah—”

“You can take it. You gon’ take all this dick since you wanna act like a lil’ naked bitch in my kitchen.”

The clapping grew louder.

Faster.

The sound of her ass bouncing, wet and heavy, every slap echoing.

Then Annie’s voice again, breaking into ragged whines.

“I’m sorry! I’m—oh my god—I’m so sorry, baby!”

Smoke chuckled low, “Nah, you ain’t sorry yet.”

Elias fucked his own hand to that. Balls tight. Muscles clenching.

He was getting close.

Next door, the bed hit the wall.

Again.

Again.

He bit his lip hard enough to leave a mark. Groaning through his teeth. Eyes squeezing shut.

And then he heard it.

The telltale gasp. That choked-off cry from Annie that meant she squirted.

Wetness.

Soaking everything.

Smoke laughed again. Dark. Triumphant.

“That’s what I thought. You ain’t got no fuckin’ sense. Creamin’ all over me like you was beggin’ to get caught.”

Elias pumped faster. Legs tensing. Chest rising. His other hand gripped the sheets tight, fighting the urge to grunt too loud. He pictured Annie—body a mess, face in the pillows, juice on her thighs. He imagined being in the room, watching.

Then he came.

Long strokes. Slow release. Hot. Messy.

All over his abs.

All over his hand.

And still Smoke kept going. 

 Annie was still moaning.

Like she could take another round. Like she wanted it deeper.

Elias laid back. Breathing hard. Sweating.

Smoke grabbed her by the hips and folded her without warning.

Annie yelped as he flipped her onto her back, dragging her ass to the edge of the mattress. Her belly sat round and soft, folding into herself when he pushed her thighs up. Thick legs spread wide, trembling. Her titties spilled up under her chin, heavy and full, brown areolas stretched tight, nipples hard and aching as they brushed her throat with every breath.

Her pussy was wrecked. Shiny. Swollen. Cream smeared along her thighs and soaking the sheets beneath her. Every shift made it slicker.

Smoke climbed over her slow and deliberate.

Toes dug into the floor. Thighs flexed. He planted his fists into the mattress on either side of her head and leaned down until his chain slid forward, lodging right between her tits. The weight of it pressed into her skin, cool metal against hot flesh.

He shoved back into her in one sharp stroke.

Annie cried out, sound breaking from deep in her chest as her body jolted up the bed. Her ass slapped down hard against the mattress edge, the sound loud and wet. He pulled back and drove in again, just as rough. Just as deep.

Her mouth fell open. Breath punched out of her with every bottomed-out thrust.

“That’s it,” Smoke said, voice low and tight, “Folded up just like I want you. Look at that body shakin’ when I hit you.”

He snapped his hips again. Harder.

Her eyes dropped between them, watching his dick split her open over and over, thick and shiny, disappearing deep inside her. Each thrust pushed her further back on the bed, made her stomach jump, made her tits bounce heavy and slow.

“I’m sorry,” Annie gasped, biting her lip hard, eyes glassy, “I’m a nasty bitch. I don’t think right. I like bein’ checked.”

Smoke laughed under his breath and slapped her tits, palm flat. The sound echoed sharp. Her nipples jumped. She whimpered, chest heaving.

“You like daddy puttin’ you in your place,” he said, “Like me remindin’ you how you supposed to act.”

Another thrust. Deeper. Slower. Mean.

Her thighs shook around his hips. Her pussy clenched hard, pulling him in like she needed it.

“Yes, daddy,” she breathed, voice breaking, “I need it. I like it when you discipline me with your dick. I like when you mad and still fuckin’ me.”

He leaned down and bit her lip, not gentle. Tugged it between his teeth until she hissed. His forehead pressed to hers.

“You a bad girl,” he said quietly, “Walkin’ around showin’ off what ain’t for everybody. You know better.”

He slammed into her again. The bed knocked the wall.

Her ass bounced hard, jiggling with every stroke. Her belly rippled. Her tits slapped against her chin, nipples brushing her mouth. She moaned through clenched teeth, fingers digging into his shoulders.

“I do know better,” she panted, “I just like bein’ bad. I like when you punish me for it.”

Smoke growled and grabbed her thighs, pulling her tighter, folding her more. He fucked her harder now, sharp strokes that made her voice stutter and shake. Each time he bottomed out, a sound tore out of her throat, raw and helpless.

“Say it again,” he ordered, “Tell me what kind of bitch you are.”

“I’m nasty,” she cried, “I’m greedy. I like dick too much. I like bein’ put on my back and fucked till I apologize.”

He slapped her tits again, harder this time. She sobbed out a moan, back arching even though she was already folded tight.

“That’s my girl,” Smoke said, “That’s how you take it.”

In the other room, Elias had pushed himself back up on his elbow.

He had already spilled once, but his dick was still thick and heavy in his hand, standing proud like it hadn’t learned a lesson yet. He stroked slow at first, spreading what slick was left along the length, breathing through his nose.

Then Annie moaned again. Loud.

Elias cursed under his breath and tightened his grip.

He could hear the wet slap of skin. The bed rocking. Smoke’s voice low and commanding. Annie’s broken responses spilling out between gasps.

He pumped harder now, hand sliding smooth and steady, wrist flexing. His hips lifted off the mattress as he chased it again, jaw tight, eyes screwed shut.

“Fuck,” he whispered, voice rough, “She soundin’ like that on purpose.”

The image burned behind his eyes. Annie folded up. Ass bouncing. Mouth open. Taking it deep. Being told exactly what she was.

Elias groaned and stroked faster, thighs tense, breath ragged. His dick twitched hard in his palm, ready to spill again just from the sound of his brother tearing her up through the wall.

“Flip me,” Annie said, voice wrecked and breathy, fingers clutching at Smoke’s forearms, “Please. I need it again.”

Smoke stilled for half a second, eyes dark, chest heaving. Then he laughed low.

“You beg pretty, baby.”  he said

He grabbed her thigh and rolled her fast, dragging her hips up until her face hit the mattress. He yanked her ass high, forcing her knees under her, belly hanging heavy between her legs. Her back arched deep. Ass lifted. No hiding. No closing her legs.

“Hands back,” he ordered.

Annie reached behind herself, palms shaking as she spread her cheeks open wide, fingers digging into her own flesh. Her ass sat high and full, jiggling with every breath. Her pussy was slick and swollen, lips parted and shining, leaking down onto the sheets.

Smoke stepped back and planted his feet.

“Stay just like that,” he said, gripping her wrists and pulling her arms straight back until her shoulders tightened, “Don’t you fucking move.”

Her voice came out wrecked. Soft. Ruined.

“I won’t,” she whispered,“I swear. I want it. I want you to make me squirt again. That’s why I needed to be turned. I needed it deep.”

Smoke groaned and shoved into her hard.

Her ass jumped forward like she got hit. The sound was loud, wet, obscene. He pulled back and slammed again, feeding her pussy with sharp, punishing strokes. Her ass ricocheted, flesh clapping against his thighs, belly swinging under her with each hit.

“That’s what you wanted?” he growled, “Pussy stuck in the air with nowhere to go but take dick?”

“Yes,” Annie cried, face buried in the bed, “I’m sorry. I’m greedy. I needed it again. I needed you to fuck it outta me.”

He tightened his grip on her arms and leaned forward, hips snapping harder now. Each stroke drove deep enough to punch broken sounds out of her throat. Her body shook from the force. Her legs trembled like they might give out.

“You ain’t got no shame,” Smoke said, “Ass up like this. Pussy open. Askin’ to get split again.”

“I like it,” she sobbed, “I like when you don’t let me move. I like when you make me take it.”

Her ass bounced violently now, cheeks spreading with every thrust. Wetness dripped down her thighs. Smoke slapped her ass once, sharp and loud, and she cried out, whole body jolting.

“Hold it open,” he ordered, “Wider.”

She obeyed, fingers shaking as she pulled herself apart further. Her pussy clenched hard around him, milking, desperate. Smoke cursed and drove in deeper, slower now, making her feel every inch.

“That’s it,” he said, “Let it go again.”

Her legs locked. Her back bowed. A broken cry tore out of her as her body seized, slick spilling out of her, soaking the sheets beneath her knees. She shook hard, ass still high, arms pinned back, pussy pulsing around him.

Smoke fucked her straight through it, not easing up, riding it out until she sagged against the mattress, gasping.

In the other room, Elias had his back against the wall, dick thick in his hand, breath coming short.

“Fuck,” he whispered, “I know he breakin’ her ass.”

He stroked slow, talking himself through it, eyes squeezed shut. His hand slid heavy and slick over his length, balls tight and full beneath his palm.

“She take it just like that,” he spoke low and wrecked, “Ass up. Greedy. Let him tear her up.”

The sounds through the wall drove him wild. Her cries. The wet slap. Smoke’s voice steady and mean.

Elias pumped harder, hips rolling into his fist.

“He fuckin’ the life out her,” Elias breathed, stroking slow, “Got her locked in, squeezin’ all over him. I know she wet as hell. Can hear it in how loud that shit clap.”

His grip tightened. His breathing went ragged.

“Wish she was on her knees right now,” he groaned, “Wish she could suck all my nut off me. Balls too. Make a mess of herself.”

The image hit him hard. Annie’s mouth. Her lips slick. Her tongue dragging slow.

Elias cursed and stroked fast, muscles locking up, dick twitching hard in his hand.

Annie’s body sagged into the mattress, arms shaking. Legs trembling. Slick everywhere. She could barely breathe.

But Smoke wasn’t done.

He grabbed her by the waist and flipped her again—hard. She landed on her back with a gasp, belly rippling, legs open, pussy still pulsing. Her chest heaved, titties jumping with every breath, nipples dark and stiff, glistening with sweat.

“Get on top,” he ordered, voice low and mean, “Right fuckin’ now.”

She scrambled up, climbing over him, thighs wide, sinking down on him slow. That stretch pulled another sound from her throat—raw, fucked-out—but she didn’t stop. She took every inch, bottoming out with her nails digging into his chest.

Smoke slid down just enough to plant his feet into the mattress, knees bent. He grabbed her wrists and pinned them flat against his stomach, locking her in place.

Then he fucked up into her.

Hard.

Sharp thrusts that bounced her thick ass off his thighs. Titties clapped against her chest. Her belly jiggled with every slam. She couldn’t move, couldn’t ride—just took it. Her moans came in broken gasps, head falling forward, lips parted, chain swinging between them.

“That what you wanted?” Smoke grunted,  “Huh? Wanted to get flipped? Want to be my lil’ bounce toy?”

Annie nodded, gasping, whining like she couldn’t find words.

Smoke hit deep again, slower this time. Letting her feel every inch on the way in.

“Say it,” he hissed, “Say why you wanted it like this.”

“I—I knew he could hear,” Annie whispered, voice cracked, “I wanted him to. I wanted your brother to listen to how you fuck me.”

Smoke growled. Hips snapped harder.

“Say that shit louder.”

She arched back, let her head drop. She was gone. Slurring now. Soaked.

“I wanted Stack to hear me,” she cried, “Hear how nasty I am. Hear what this pussy sound like when you fuck it right.”

Smoke slapped her ass from below, then drove up again, lifting her with the force.

“You hear that, Elias?!” he barked, loud enough to shake the goddamn wall, “She want you to listen while I fuck her through the floor!”

Annie screamed into her next orgasm, body jerking. But Smoke didn’t slow.

“You hear these thighs clappin’?! This pussy gushing?! She bounce on me like she don’t need air. Pussy greedy as fuck."

He grabbed her throat and made her look down at him, those eyes wild.

“Now tell him.”

Annie trembled, tears slipping down her cheeks from too much pleasure.

“This my daddy’s dick,” she moaned, “He the only one who make me squirt. He the one diggin’ it out. He the one this pussy belong to.”

Smoke grunted, planting his feet harder, slamming up into her with force that made the bed knock.

“Say my fuckin’ name.”

“Daddy,” she cried, “Fuck—Daddy Smoke!”

Meanwhile in the other room…

Elias was damn near on the floor, one foot braced against the wall, stroking his dick with a slick, tight grip. His thighs twitched. His abs clenched.

He heard his name. He heard her say it. He heard her call Smoke daddy.

And he still couldn’t stop.

His voice broke into a rough whisper:

“She talkin’ to me like that on purpose. Pussy sound like it’s grippin’ the fuck outta him. She a fuckin’ mess…”

He groaned as precum spilled again. His hand never stopped moving.

“Bet her throat would feel so good right now. Suck me clean. Take it all like a nasty lil mouthpiece.”

He cursed again, breath catching.

“Fuckkkk.”

The head of his dick flinched in his hand. He wasn’t done either.

Elias sat up on the edge of the bed, legs spread, hand slick and slow on his shaft. He was edging now. Letting that dick go so it could stand up all the way—dark, thick, twitching with need. Veins bulged along the length. His balls were tight, drawn up close. He exhaled slow through his nose.

She sounded too good.

Her voice was breaking. Her moans were higher. That wet clapping echoing through the damn wall like it was meant for him. He could hear her body lifting and dropping, that pace changing, like she took control.

He wanted to hold that nut. Savor it. Let it burn.

So he gripped the base of his shaft and let it throb. Dark. Glossy. Hard like it needed somewhere to be.

Annie was riding now.

Not bouncing.

Not easing.

Riding.

Full body commitment. Throwing her ass down on Smoke’s lap like it was the only way she knew how to breathe. Her lip was caught between her teeth, eyes heavy, brows pulled tight like it hurt to feel this good. She looked over her shoulder, hair wild, and moaned from the pit of her stomach.

“Don’t pull out,” she begged, voice broken and fucked up, “Don’t take it out—please—I love how it feel slidin’ in and out like this. It’s so fat—so thick—I need it.”

Smoke let her go. Just rested his hands behind his head and stared.

That ass was clappin’.

Full cheeks bouncing.

Throwin’ that pussy down on him like she needed to fuck the air out his lungs.

He popped her on the ass once. Then again.

“Ride that shit, then,” he growled, “Fuck me. Ride this dick like you mean it.”

She whimpered and ground down on just the tip, rolling her hips, making it nasty. Her ass moved in slow circles, grinding low, creamy and wet. She pulled up until just the head stretched her, then dropped again fast, making the whole bed shake.

“Like that,” Smoke hissed, sitting up to watch, “Fuck the tip. Ride it right. Throw that ass.”

She did it again. And again.

One hand planted on his thigh for balance. The other on her own stomach. Her tits bounced wildly. Her belly rippled. Her pussy kept talking.

“Daddy,” she whined, drunk on it now, “I’m fuckin’ addicted. I don’t even know who I am no more.”

Smoke grabbed her waist and held her in place while he just watched her fuck herself on him.

“You done lost your mind, huh?” Smoke teased, voice gravelly, “Ridin’ like that pussy tryna prove somethin’.”

Annie gasped.

Her face flushed deeper. Her movements slowed to grind mode again, dragging that slick slit over the tip and pushing it back in inch by inch.

She whispered, low and ragged, “You gon’ make me squirt again…”

Next door, Elias was biting his damn knuckles. Dick standing proud. Angry.

He was stroking now but only halfway, stopping before the edge.

“Shit,” he growled, “She ridin’ like she possessed. I know that shit slippery as fuck. Gushy.”

His hand trembled a little. Not from nerves.

From trying to keep that nut locked up tight.

“Bounce on it, baby,” he whispered to himself, “Make him feel that grip.”

His toes curled. Thighs flexed.

He still wasn’t ready to let it go.

Annie was unraveling.

She had no rhythm left. Just chaos. Pussy gushing, thighs shaking, ass bouncing out of control. She ground down hard one more time—and it happened.

Again.

Her breath caught, hips locked, and a high, broken sob tore from her throat as she squirted again, soaking his lap. Her whole body trembled from the release, cunt pulsing in aftershock, slick running down his thighs.

Smoke groaned. Loud. Sat up fast, “Move,” he barked.

She barely had time to breathe before he flipped her—manhandled her right into a new position.

Smoke pushed her thighs up, wide, until her knees nearly touched her shoulders. “Grab ’em,” he growled, “Hold them legs just like that.”

Annie obeyed with a shaky whimper, folding open for him completely.

He settled between her legs, thick arms anchoring him as he gripped her titties like handlebars, palms full, thumbs brushing her nipples. His gold chain swayed between them. His eyes dropped to her swollen, glistening pussy—already fluttering, already wet.

“You feel that?” he rasped, dragging the tip of his dick up and down her slit, teasing her entrance.

Then he slammed in, deep and raw.

“That’s me hittin’ the back, huh?” he groaned, watching her mouth fall open.

He pulled out slow, letting her feel every inch, then shoved in harder.

“Feel how I do it like that?”

Annie moaned loud, toes curling, hands shaking as she held her feet. She couldn’t think. Couldn’t speak. Just gasped and nodded, her pussy making those slick, obscene sounds every time he pumped back in.

Smoke leaned in, breath hot and filthy against her cheek, “This where I’m bout to empty my fuckin’ balls. Right here in this big, fine ass pussy.”

He pulled out again, slow and wet, letting the suction pop. Smirked at the noise. Did it again. And again. Watching her cream cling to him each time he withdrew.

Then he snapped his hips and drilled her.

Fast. Deep. Ruthless.

Still grippin’ her titties. Still leaned in like he was claiming her soul.

Her legs started to shake. Her voice got high. Her eyes rolled.

He fucked her through it, whispering, “You gon’ take this nut, mama. You hear me? You gon’ let Daddy bust all up in that pretty pussy. Gimme all that fuckin’ cream. Let me feel it.”

Toes curling tighter, her calves tensed, pulling her knees up instinctively to take him better.

“Yeah, that's my girl. You gon’ squeeze this dick till I empty every last drop in this pussy. Milk me dry with that wet ass pussy—show Daddy how much you need it”

“Yessss, keep putting that big dick in me,”  she gasped, voice trembling, her pussy clenching around him in response, coating his length in fresh slickness as he pulled out and slammed home again.

The rhythm built, his thrusts turning punishing, each entry forcing her mouth agape in ecstasy, lips slack and inviting. Droplets of sweat trailed down her neck, her breasts jiggling in his grip with every impact. 

“Fuck, listen to that pussy talkin’. You want Daddy's load floodin’ you out, don't you? Beggin’ for it? gimme that cream, baby, soak my balls,' he growled, leaning in to bite her earlobe, his breath hot against her skin.

Annie moaned louder, the affirmation breaking into a cry as he drove in relentlessly, her body jolting with the force. Her mouth dropped open wide on the next entry, a choked cry spilling out as he bottomed out.

“Damn, look at you takin’ it so good. You want this load, don't you? Say it louder—beg for Daddy's cum in that big, hungry pussy, baby.'

"Please, Daddy, I'm your nasty bitch—use my pussy, breed me deep! I wanna feel you throb and shoot inside, make me leak. Fuck, I'm so wet for you, gonna cum so hard on this big dick—”

She came undone on that fat dick, gushing hot and messy, her juices squirting out around his plunging shaft, drenching his balls and thighs in a slick flood. Mouth wide in a silent scream that broke into nasty whimpers, toes locked in a rigid curl, she shook violently, pussy milking him with rhythmic pulses.

In the other room, Stack finally broke.

His legs snapped straight, hips lifting as that nut chased him down and caught him in one heavy wave. His fist tightened around the base, stroking through it slow and tight.

“Fuck…fuuuckkkkkkk.” 

He came hard across his stomach. Hot. Messy. Stripes of it landing on his abs, hand shaking. His head fell back, lips parted.

“Annie…”

It slipped out rough. Damn near a moan.

She had him sayin’ her name now.

Back in the bed, Smoke’s body locked up.

His grip around Annie’s titties  turned steel.

His strokes went erratic—deep, fast, brutal.

“Keep that shit open,” he growled, “You gon’ take every drop. You understand me?”

“Yes, Daddy,” Annie whimpered. “Please cum in it. Fill me up—”

Smoke growled low and buried himself to the hilt, holding her body tight as his nut snapped through him. Deep. Hot. Flooding her.

He stayed there, throbbing inside her.

Annie was twitching in his arms. Legs trembling. Breath hitched. Her pussy still pulsing, still messy, still full of him.

Smoke let out a low grunt and finally pulled out slow—his dick thick, glistening, streaked with slick and cream. The second he slipped free, her pussy opened up around the emptiness and let out a slow, wet push of his nut.

He stared.

Watched it drip, thick and warm, trailing down to her ass.

“Look at this shit,” he muttered, voice raw, “You gon’ pull that stunt again?”

Annie tilted her head back onto his chest, smiling lazy, lips shiny with sweat.

“Maybe,” she whispered with a giggle.

Smoke grunted, “Keep playin’.”

But he didn’t sound mad. Just wrecked. Possessive. Drunk off her.

She reached between her thighs, fingers gathering the mess he left inside her, spreading it up and around her swollen lips with slow, teasing circles. Her voice was soft. Smug.

“Don’t waste none,” she said, rubbing it in like lotion, “Daddy gave me all this. I’m keepin’ it.”

Smoke just laid back and watched. His chain tangled between her tits. His nut leaking down her thighs. Her pussy glistening and ruined.

Smoke spoke, breath thick, voice low, “What I give you?”

Annie grinned, still catching her breath, “All your thick nut Deep.”

“Mm.” Smoke’s hand slid over her thigh, “I see that.” 

“You made a damn fool outta me.” Annie spoke breathlessly. 

“No, baby…I made you mine again.”

Annie giggled,  “Hmph. You always say that after you fuck the soul outta me.”

“Because it’s the truth. You feel full?”

 “Leakin’. So yeah.”

Smoke chuckles dark, “That’s how I like it.”

“Mm. You like makin’ a mess in me.”

“I like claimin’ you. Again and again. Til you forget anybody else ever fucked you.”

“Then don’t stop.”

Smoke leans in, mouth brushing her ear, “I’m not done. That was just round one.”

In the other room, Elias was a goddamn mess.

His chest was heaving. His stomach, covered. His fist, still tight around the last stroke.

The nut he just let go was the biggest he’d ever had.

Thick. Endless. Hot. Rope after rope painted his own skin, dripped off his abs, smeared across his knuckles.

And it wasn’t for just any girl.

It was for her.

His brother’s girl.

Annie.

His mind went blank. No shame. Just need.

She sounded too good. Took it too well. Looked too soft. And now, after hearing that? Smoke would just have to kill him.

Because Elias needed her bad.

And next time? He wouldn’t be on the other side of the wall.

The process was grueling. Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, filled with intense training sessions, meditation, and mental exercises. There were moments when I wanted to give up, when the weight of my powers felt too heavy to bear. But Charles was always there, encouraging me, pushing me to my limits, and teaching me to master my abilities. Over time, our relationship deepened. I found myself drawn to him, not just because he was my mentor, but because of who he was—compassionate, intelligent, and incredibly attractive.

One evening, after a particularly challenging session, Charles suggested we take a break. “How about we go out for drinks? Just the two of us,” he said, his eyes twinkling with a hint of mischief.

My heart skipped a beat. Was this a date? Did he feel the same way about me as I did about him? Trying to contain my excitement, I agreed, and we made our way to a cozy bar in town.

The atmosphere was perfect—dim lights, soft music, and a sense of intimacy that made my pulse quicken. We sat at a corner table, and for a while, everything felt perfect. We laughed, talked about everything and nothing, and I felt closer to him than ever before.

But then, she appeared. A tall, confident blonde with a predatory smile. She sauntered over to our table and immediately latched onto Charles, ignoring my presence entirely. “Hey, handsome,” she purred, placing a hand on his arm. “Mind if I join you?”

Charles tried to gently extricate himself from her grasp. “Actually, we’re on a date,” he said, nodding towards me.

The blonde glanced at me and scoffed. “Yeah, right. Like he’d ever go out with you.”

The words stung, and anger flared within me. How dare she dismiss me so easily? I felt a surge of energy, the familiar tingle of my powers awakening. Discreetly, I focused on her, channeling my emotions into a subtle spell. Suddenly, the blonde started babbling, spilling embarrassing secrets about herself.

“I can't believe I lost my job today,” she blurted out, her eyes wide with horror. “And my ex dumped me because I cheated on him. Oh my god, why am I saying this?”

She turned and fled, humiliated, leaving Charles and me alone once more. I felt a pang of satisfaction, but it was short-lived. Charles turned to me, his expression serious.

“Did you use your powers?” he asked quietly.

Guilt washed over me, and I nodded. “I’m sorry. I just... I don’t know. I felt jealous, possessive. I wanted you all to myself.”

Charles sighed and suggested we head back to the school. The drive back was silent, the weight of my actions pressing down on me. Had I ruined everything? As we pulled up to the mansion, I couldn’t bear the silence any longer.

“Charles, I’m sorry,” I said, my voice trembling. “I didn’t mean to lose control. I just... I care about you so much, and seeing her with you made me feel... threatened.”

He remained silent, his face unreadable. As we entered the mansion, I turned to head to my room, wanting to escape the shame and disappointment I felt.

But then, I heard his voice in my mind. “Y/N, I’m not mad or disappointed. In fact, I’m feeling quite the opposite. That was the hottest thing anyone has ever done for me.”

I stopped in my tracks, my heart racing. Turning around, I saw him standing there, a faint smile playing on his lips. Before I knew it, Charles closed the distance between us, his lips crushing against mine in a passionate kiss.

My body responded immediately to his touch, my desire for him igniting like wildfire. I moaned into his mouth, my hands roaming over his strong chest as I returned his kiss eagerly. Charles' taste and touch were addictive, and I already knew I would never get enough of him.

Guided by pure instinct, Charles backed me up against a wall, his lips never leaving mine as he reached behind me to open a nearby door. Still kissing me deeply, he backed us into his bedroom, our mouths fused together.

Breaking the kiss briefly, Charles growled softly, his breath hot against my ear, "Get on the bed, baby." His voice was thick with desire, and I felt my core clench at the commanding tone he was taking with me. I wanted him to take control, to show me just how much he wanted me.

I did exactly as I was told, my heart pounding in my chest as I climbed onto the bed and looked up at Charles expectantly. He reached for the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head and discarding it, revealing his muscled chest and abs.

My mouth watered at the sight, my eyes roaming over his defined body as I licked her lips subconsciously.

Charles kicked off his shoes and undid his jeans, pushing them down along with his boxers, his hard length springing free. Pre-cum glistened at the tip, and my pussy clenched at the sight, my own clothes feeling too tight and restricting.

"Take your clothes off for me, baby," Charles demanded, his voice hoarse as he watched her intently. "Show me that beautiful body."

I sat up, my hands shaking slightly as I lifted my top over my head, revealing my lace bra and the swell of my breasts. I hooked my thumbs into the waistband of my jeans, shimmying out of them, and then slowly stepped out of my panties, now completely naked and on display for Charles.

He groaned, his eyes raking over my body, taking in my breasts and smooth pussy. "You're fucking gorgeous, you know that?" He took a step closer, reaching out to trail a finger along my inner thigh, his touch sending shivers through me.

"Charles..." I whimpered, my voice filled with need. I had spread my legs slightly, inviting him to touch me where I wanted and needed it the most.

As if reading my mind, Charles smiled wickedly, lowering himself between my thighs. He nuzzled my creamy thighs with his face, placing soft kisses along my sensitive skin as he made his way closer to my core.

I sighed, my hands threading through his hair as I savored the feel of his lips and tongue on my skin.

"Mmm, you taste so sweet," Charles murmured against my pussy, his warm breath teasing me. He kissed my inner thighs again before finally zeroing in on my center, his tongue snaking out to lick a long, slow stripe along my slit.

I cried out, my hips bucking involuntarily as I felt his tongue swipe through my folds, collecting my essence. "Oh God, Charles!"

Encouraged by my reaction, Charles gently gripped my thighs, spreading me open further to give him better access. He swirled his tongue around my clit before sucking it into his mouth, flicking it with the tip of his tongue. At the same time, he inserted two fingers into my dripping core, curling them just right to hit that sweet spot inside me.

"Fuck, yes!" I moaned, my body writhing on the bed as Charles ate me out with skill and enthusiasm.

My hands grasped the bedsheets as she surrendered to the waves of pleasure washing over me. Charles devoured me eagerly, clearly enjoying the sweet nectar I was offering him.

It didn't take long for me to climax, my walls clenching around Charles' fingers as I cried out his name.

Charles hummed in satisfaction, licking and lapping up my juices as I rode out my orgasm. But he didn't stop there, continuing to work his magic with his tongue and fingers until I was trembling with sensitivity.

"Please... I can't take any more," I panted, my body still throbbing from the intense orgasms. "I need to taste you now."

With a grin, Charles withdrew his fingers and tongue, giving me a moment to catch my breath. Then he climbed up the bed, positioning himself above me. I reached for his throbbing cock, wrapping my hand around the shaft and stroking him slowly as I guided him to my waiting mouth.

I swirled my tongue around the engorged head, tasting the salty pre-cum before taking him deep into my mouth. Charles hissed, his hips bucking slightly as he threaded his fingers through my hair, gently guiding me as I sucked him off.

I took my time, swirling my tongue around his length, sucking and bobbing my head as I looked up at him through my lashes. I loved the power I felt in this position, knowing that I could bring this strong, powerful mutant to his knees with just my mouth.

"Fuck, Y/N... that feels so good," Charles groaned, his hips picking up a slight rhythm as he gently fucked my face.

I hummed in response, the vibration making Charles grit his teeth. He couldn't hold back anymore; he wanted to feel the tight heat of my mouth around him as he came. With a low growl, he began to thrust into my mouth, his pace quickening as he chased his release.

"Fuck my face, Charles," I moaned, loving the feel of his hard length sliding between my lips. "Cum for me."

my dirty words sent Charles over the edge, and with a hoarse cry, he spilled down my throat, his hips stuttering as he emptied himself into my eager mouth.

I savored the taste of him, swallowing every drop he gave me as he rode out his intense orgasm.

We lay together for a moment, catching our breath, before Charles gently withdrew from her mouth, a satisfied smile on his face. "You are amazing, baby."

The comment made me blush, a happy warmth spreading through me as I reached up to kiss him. "Your turn to lay back and enjoy the ride."

With a twinkle in his eye, Charles lay back on the bed, his hard cock standing proud as he watched me straddle him. I smiled wickedly, reaching for a condom from the bedside drawer before rolling it onto him with ease.

I took my time, rubbing my slick folds against his length as I teased us both. Charles hissed, his hips bucking slightly as he tried to urge me down onto him. "Tease," he accused playfully, reaching up to tweak my nipples, making me gasp.

"Impatient," I retorted, aligning myself with him before slowly sinking down, taking him deep inside me. We both groaned, I threw my head back as I savored the feel of him stretching me.

Charles' hands gripped my hips, guiding me as I began to ride him, my tits bouncing with each bounce.

The sound of our skin slapping together filled the room as I picked up the pace, my hips moving in perfect rhythm. Charles thrust up to meet me, his hands squeezing the flesh of my ass as he helped to guide me onto him.

"You feel so good, baby," Charles panted, his eyes closed in ecstasy. "So wet and tight."

I moaned, my head falling forward as I got lost in the sensations. Charles' cock hit all the right spots inside me, and I could feel my orgasm building already.

Reaching between us, I started to rub my clit in tight circles as I rode him harder, my breath coming in short gasps. "Oh, fuck... I'm gonna cum, Charles."

"Cum for me, baby," Charles urged, his voice thick with his own desire. "Let me feel you squeeze my cock with that tight pussy."

As if on cue, my walls clenched around him, my juices flowing as I cried out his name. Charles groaned, his hips snapping up to meet mine as he thrust into me one last time, spilling himself into the condom.

Our bodies shuddered together as we rode out our intense, mutual orgasm.

Collapsing onto his chest, I felt Charles' arms wrap around me, holding me close. We were both sweaty and sticky, but the post-coital glow and the feeling of satisfaction made it all worth it.

"That was incredible," I murmured, placing a soft kiss on his chest.

Charles smiled, his hand gently tracing invisible circles on my back. "It certainly was. But we're not done yet."

I lifted my head to look at him, a mischievous glint in my eye. "Oh, really? And what did you have in mind?"

Charles' gaze darkened with desire. "I want to try something different. Something a little wilder."

Intrigued, I bit my lip. "Like what?"

Charles rolled them over, pressing a kiss to my neck. "You'll see," he whispered, his hand reaching down to stroke my slick folds. "But first, I want to taste you again."

————

My first Marvel story!!!!

Taglist:

The moment you stepped inside the cabin, your body shivered—not from the cold outside, but from the heat rolling beneath your skin. Your limbs felt heavy, your head light, and the ache pooling deep in your belly warned you of what was coming. 

Logan was already aware. 

You could see it in the way his shoulders tensed as he dropped his bag by the door, his nostrils flaring as he scented the air. His keen amber eyes darkened, pupils dilating as his instincts flared to the surface. The scent of your heat had begun to rise, thickening in the small space of the cabin, making the air humid, intoxicating. 

"You should’ve told me it was this close, sweetheart," Logan murmured, his voice rougher than usual. He made his way over, his movements slow, measured—like a predator keeping himself in check. 

You swallowed hard, gripping the edge of the wooden table for balance. "Didn’t know it’d hit this fast," you admitted, your voice already breathy. 

Logan exhaled sharply, stepping in close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off his body. He was warm, solid, safe. He cupped your cheek, his rough thumb brushing over your burning skin. "Alright. We’ll get you settled in first," he said, voice thick with restraint. 

He turned away and made quick work of preparing the space. He’d stocked up on supplies earlier, anticipating that you'd need to stay put for the next few days. Blankets were already laid out on the bed, extra water bottles within reach, and the air carried the faint scent of lavender from the candles he'd lit—an effort to keep you as calm as possible. 

"Here," Logan said, offering you a glass of water. "Drink." 

You obeyed, though your fingers trembled as you held the cup. He watched you carefully, his eyes tracing over every minute reaction—your quickened breaths, the way your thighs pressed together, the soft whimper you tried to suppress. 

His jaw clenched. "Damn it," he muttered under his breath, running a hand through his dark hair. 

His own scent was changing, sharpening. Even in your dazed state, you knew this wasn’t just affecting you. Your heat was pulling at his instincts, drawing him into a rut just as fast. Logan was doing his best to fight it back, but his breathing had grown heavier, his hands twitching as if they ached to grab, to touch. 

"Logan," you whispered, stepping closer before you even realized what you were doing. 

His hands caught your hips, holding you still, though his grip wasn’t rough. He let out a shuddering breath, leaning forward until his forehead nearly touched yours. "We gotta take this slow, sweetheart. I need to make sure you're comfortable first." 

You nodded, trusting him completely. 

Logan led you to the bed, guiding you down onto the soft blankets. He sat beside you, rubbing soothing circles into your thigh, his heat pressing into your side like a furnace. 

"Just focus on me, alright?" he murmured, his voice low and reassuring. "Let me take care of you." 

His touch was steady, careful despite the tension thrumming beneath his skin. He helped ease the worst of your discomfort, coaxing soft sighs and relieved whimpers from you. His presence alone was grounding—his scent, his warmth, the steady rhythm of his breathing as he murmured reassurances in your ear. 

"You’re doin’ good, darlin’," he praised, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. "I got you." 

As your discomfort eased, desire began to take its place. You could feel the heat building between your legs, your pussy growing slick with need. Logan's nostrils flared, his eyes darkening as he caught your scent. His hand moved from your thigh to your stomach, his touch growing bolder. 

"Logan," you gasped, your voice barely above a whisper. He responded by pressing his lips to yours, his kiss hungry and demanding. His hand moved lower, slipping beneath the waistband of your panties. His fingers found your wetness, stroking you gently. 

You moaned into his mouth, your hips bucking against his hand. He broke the kiss, his lips trailing down your neck as his fingers continued to work their magic. "Fuck, Logan," you gasped, your fingers tangling in his hair. 

He chuckled, the sound low and throaty. "You like that, sweetheart?" he asked, his fingers slipping inside you. You could only whimper in response, your body arching off the bed. 

He continued to stroke you, his fingers sliding in and out of your wetness. Your moans filled the cabin, mingling with the sound of his heavy breathing. You could feel your orgasm building, your body tensing in anticipation. 

"Come for me, sweetheart," Logan growled, his thumb brushing against your clit. You cried out, your body convulsing as your orgasm washed over you. Logan's fingers continued to move, drawing out your pleasure until you were left panting and gasping for breath. 

He pulled his hand from your panties, his fingers glistening with your wetness. He brought them to his lips, his eyes never leaving yours as he tasted you. "Fuck, you taste good," he groaned, his voice thick with desire. 

He moved over you, his body pressing you into the bed. His hard cock pressed against your thigh, the heat of it making you moan. "I need you, Logan," you gasped, your hands moving to his pants. He takes your hands and pushes you back down to the bed, and removes the rest of your clothes.

His lips found your pussy, his tongue licking and sucking. He ate your pussy, his beard brushing against your thighs, making you shiver. Your hands gripped his head, holding him against you as he licked and sucked, his tongue dancing around your clit.

His hands gripped your hips, his fingers digging into your skin. He sucked your clit into his mouth, his tongue flicking against it. You gasped, your body trembling as he licked your pussy, his beard rubbing against your wetness.

Logan pulled away, his eyes dark with lust. He leans back up, his massive body covering yours. His cock rubbed against your pussy, the rough hair of his pubic bone brushing against your clit. You gasped, your body arching as he rubbed his cock against you, his hands squeezing your breasts, his fingers pinching your nipples.

His lips found your neck, his teeth nibbling as he leaned down to suck on your tits. You gasped, your body trembling as he rubbed his cock against your pussy. His hands roamed your body, his touch rough and demanding.

He chuckled, the sound low and deep. "ready, bub?," he murmured, you didn't respond, only wrapping your hand around his thick cock, stroking him gently. 

He groaned, his head falling back as you continued to stroke him. "Fuck, that feels good," he gasped, his hips bucking against your hand. 

You continued to stroke him, your movements growing bolder. He groaned, His hand moved between your legs, his fingers slipping inside you once again. 

You moaned, your hips bucking against his hand. He leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear. "I'm going to fuck you now, sweetheart," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. 

Logan didn't waste any time, he positioned himself at your entrance, his cock pressing against your wetness. He pushed inside you, his cock filling you completely. Your pussy clenched around him, your body welcoming his intrusion. You gasped, your body arching into him as he thrust into you. 

The sound of flesh slapping against flesh echoed through the cabin as he slammed into you, the force of his thrusts pushing you further up the bed. His rough pubic hair rubbing against your clit. You moaned, your hips bucking against him, desperate for more. Logan, his body glistening with sweat, a smirk on his face, pulled out and flipped you onto your stomach. He positioned you on your hands and knees. The room was filled with the sounds of your moans and the slap of skin.  

"Want my knot?." He asked his voice low and rough. He pushed back into you, the new position allowing him to go even deeper. You could feel every inch of his cock, and you knew you could never get enough. You reached back, grabbing his hip, encouraging him to go deeper. 

"Fuck yes, Alpha," you moaned, your body shuddering as he hit a particularly sensitive spot. His hands gripped your hips, his fingers digging into your soft flesh as he pounded into you. The smell of sex and sweat filled the air, a heady scent that only served to heighten your arousal. Logan leaned down, his hairy body pressing against yours as he reached around, his fingers finding your clit.  

"You're so fucking wet," he growled, his voice a low rumble. "You're dripping for me." 

You moaned, your body shaking as he continued to pound into you. His fingers were working magic on your clit, and you knew you were close to the edge. His other hand reached up and wrapped around your throat, his grip firm but gentle. You could feel the power in his touch, sending shivers down your spine. 

His grip tightened slightly, and you gasped, your body shuddering with pleasure. "Please," you begged, your voice a soft whimper. "Please, Alpha, I need to come." 

Logan's grip on your throat tightened slightly, and he leaned down, his breath hot on your ear. "Come for me, 'mega," he growled. "Come all over my cock." 

You moaned, your body shuddering as you came, your pussy clenching around his cock. Logan continued to pound into you, his grip on your throat tightening as he chased his own release. He let out a low growl, and you could feel his cock swelling inside you, his knot locking into place. 

You moaned, your body shuddering with pleasure as he filled you with his seed. He held you close, his body pressed against yours as he rode out his own orgasm. His grip on your throat loosened, and he pulled you back against his chest, his arms wrapping around you.  

After a few minutes catching your breath, Logan began scenting you. his rough hands trailing soothing circles along your stomach. His scent wrapped around you like a protective cocoon—earthy, rich, and undeniably Logan. He pressed a lazy kiss to your temple, his lips lingering as he exhaled slowly like he was breathing you in. 

"You alright, sweetheart?" His voice was a low rumble, thick with exhaustion, but still full of concern. 

You let out a soft hum, snuggling closer against the heat of his body. "Mhm…" 

Logan chuckled, the sound deep and affectionate. "That ain't a real answer, bub." His fingers combed through your hair, untangling the strands with surprising gentleness. "You need anything? Water? Somethin' to eat?" 

You shook your head, feeling too content to move. "Just you." 

He spends a long amount of time kissing his way down your body before he gets to where you want him to be. Never wants to get right to the main event, even if you've had a long time apart. Always has his eyes closed but you can tell when he's enjoying himself by how hard he closes his eyes and the tiny sparks of red that get a glimpse of. Gets a little pussydrunk if you don't push him away on time, even if his jaw hurts he'll keep going.

Wakes you up fully by eating you out, it's become something of a morning ritual for when you really don't want to get out of bed in the morning. This can go both ways if you want to suck him off in the morning and help him with his morning wood. He knows how to cook breakfast pretty well but honestly you're his favorite thing to eat in the morning. Especially when you come all over mouth from how much he tonguefucked you.

Eats you out while he's on his knees like you're the one who should be worshiped and prayed to. Judging by the way he kisses and licks your pussy, his forked tongue flicking and lapping at your sensitive clit he might as well think you're holy. He certainly does get you to call out to God a lot. Because he can't help it he jerks himself off with his tail, he should have better control, instead he gave into lust. and he will gladly do it again.

Talks dirty the whole time while he's eating you out, there's nothing that will get him to shut up. Each and every jolt of your hips serves as a compliment to him. He doesn't hold you down while eating you out, you can buck your hips freely, riding his face as fast and hard as you want. Don't worry if you clamp your thighs around his head, you can't kill him and if you did he would be glad to die and wake up with his face against your cunt.

"Remind me," you say slowly, the first words spoken in almost ten minutes. "How many times did I ask you to fix the air conditioner?"

"Don't start," Logan says from his spot across the room. His head is tipped back to rest on the couch cushion, eyes slipped shut.

You ignore him, lazily rolling your head to the side to look at him through squinted eyes, your brows furrowed in thought. "Was it ten? Or maybe thirteen?"

Logan huffs a breath, slow and heavy, but he doesn't move--doesn't even open his eyes. “I said don’t start,” he mutters again, though there’s the faintest edge of a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.

"Don't worry baby," you say, voice pitched lower in a terrible impersonation of Logan. "I'll get to it, promise. Won’t get too hot for another couple months."

Logan finally cracks an eye open, just enough to give you a sideways glance, his mouth twitching with amusement. "You done?"

You hum noncommittally, the sound lingering in the air like the lazy summer breeze doing nothing to cool the temperature outside. Your gaze slips down the side of his face to trace the jut of his jaw, then lower to the sweaty column of his neck. 

Both you and Logan lost most of your clothes earlier in the day, too hot to bother wearing anything but underwear. You trudged around the house like zombies until you finally gave up on trying to be productive, you both ended up in the living room. 

All the windows are cracked open, trying in vain to let in any cool air. You claimed the armchair closest to the fan, refusing to be anywhere near Logan and the massive heat wave he constantly gives off.

Logan’s on the couch, stripped down to the thinnest pair of sleep shorts you’ve ever seen. His chest is bare, glistening with a thin sheen of sweat that mats the dark hair dusted along his pecs to his skin. 

You can’t help the way your eyes follow the drops of moisture that slide slowly down the contours of his abs. A low heat starting to swirl through your gut when it disappears into his happy trail.

It's funny. When you basically peeled yourself off your mattress this morning, sex was the absolute last thing on your mind.

Now, as your eyes glide over the strong expanse of Logan's body on full display, you're having second thoughts.

Maybe it just comes with the heat. That sort of slow, syrupy feeling that slides along your overheated skin to pulse pleasantly between your thighs.

A bead of sweat slides down the length of your spine slowly, falling until it soaks into the damp waistband of your panties. You try to not notice how Logan is halfway across the room, not touching you.

You fail.

“It’s just a shame, though,” you start, fingers idly toying with the hem of your tank top. “If it was cooler, I could come over there.”

You slide a leg up, letting it rest against the wooden rest, newly exposed skin gleaming under the sunlight filtering in. 

The move isn't lost on Logan. You see his jaw clench slightly, the tiniest shift in his posture.

"Something you wanted?" Logan asks, his voice going low and teasing. "Looks like you've been gettin' yourself all worked up over there."

“Just thinking,” you reply, shifting slightly on the sticky leather of the chair.

Logan’s fingers twitch at his sides, his chest rising and falling with slow, measured breaths. His eyes slide the rest of the way open, his gaze heavy and lingering as it ventures down to where your thin shirt sticks to your skin, outlining every curve.

“Oh yeah?” he prompts, his voice a little rougher now. “Thinkin’ about what, baby?”

“You,” you say easily, fingers slipping down to your thigh. You bring your other leg up, perching it against the opposite armrest. Your thighs spread wide enough that you know Logan has a full view of the wet spot growing along the gusset of your panties.

The hitch in Logan’s breath has you stifling a smug smile, taking your bottom lip between your teeth as you watch the way his chest starts rising faster.

"That's real sweet, sugar," he drawls, an unimpressed look on his face as he drags his eyes back up to your own. "But if you're tryin' to get me over there, you're gonna have to do better than that." His voice slides through the air heavy and warm like molasses.

You bite back a grin, enjoying the slow game that's unfolding between the two of you. 

"Maybe I don’t want you to come over here," you let your fingers trail a little lower, just to the edge of your panties, teasing. “Maybe I like you right where you are.”

Logan’s brow raises, his thighs tensing before he spreads them just a touch wider. The fabric of his boxers goes taut over the strong muscle, riding up to expose even more hairy skin to your greedy eyes.

"You're playin' with fire, kid," he warns.

The tent in his shorts is obvious now, the hard length of his cock pressing against the fabric where it lays across his thigh. Your other hand twitches by your side at just the sight, your pussy throbbing with the sudden need to be filled.

"Am I?" you murmur, your fingers slipping beneath the waistband of your panties, just enough to make sure he knows exactly where this is headed. ”It’s not like you’re going to do anything about it, you’re too busy pouting."

With a deliberate slowness, you slide your fingers lower, brushing against your clit with just enough pressure to let out a soft gasp at the contact. You arch your back slightly, relishing in the way the air feels against your skin, hot and sticky.

You want him to see how badly you need him—how his heat is the only thing that could truly satisfy the insatiable ache building between your legs.

Logan's nostrils flare, jaw tightening and eyes darkening at the sight of you teasing yourself. His restraint is slipping, and you can practically feel the tension building in the room, thick and stifling like the oppressive summer heat. 

But he still doesn’t move, doesn’t rush over like you expect him to. Instead, he shifts his hips slightly, spreading his legs wider and letting his hand fall on his thigh. 

You can’t help the way your breath quickens at the sight, the way his fingers drift dangerously close to his own growing bulge, teasing you just as much as you’re teasing him. 

You tilt your head to the side, gazing at him through your lashes. “You're really just gonna leave me hanging?” you goad, fingers circling lazily around your sensitive clit. “Come on stud, whip it out.”

Logan chuckles low, a sound that sends shivers through you. "Is that what you want, baby?" he asks, voice thick and taunting, a smirk curling on his lips. “You want me to whip it out for you?”

“Yeah,” you murmur breathlessly, biting your lip as you maintain eye contact, your breath starting to come in short bursts. “I need to see you, Logan. Need to see how hard you are for me.”

“Need to, huh,” he muses slowly, fingers finally grazing over the hard length of his cock. “What’s in it for me?”

“How about this?” You slip your hand out from your ruined panties, fingers glistening with your own wetness as you hook your thumbs on either side and drag them down your legs.

You let the soaked cotton fall to the floor, leaving you completely exposed to him.

Logan’s pupils dilate, an inky black completely swallowing the warm hazel. He licks his lips slowly, the tip of his tongue running along his teeth like he wants to sink them into you. His cock twitches visibly beneath his shorts, the growing tension in the air between you thick enough to choke on.

“Fuck,” he breathes out, his voice low and gravelly, more of a growl than a word.

You smile, shifting in the chair to give him an even better view, your legs spreading wider. "Yeah?" you purr, running your fingers over your slick inner thigh, feeling the heat radiating from your own skin. “You like what you see?”

Logan swallows hard, his hand finally slipping beneath the waistband of his shorts, palming his cock as he watches you. “You know I do,” he says, voice rougher than before. 

You let your hand trail back down to your clit, rubbing it in slow, teasing circles as you hold his gaze. “Then show me, Logan,” you whisper, your voice almost a plea now. "I wanna see you."

Logan lets out a low, rumbling groan, his fingers making quick work of shoving his shorts down enough to free his cock. It springs free to slap lewdly against his stomach and you can’t help the moan that escapes your lips at the sight.

He strokes himself slowly to start, his eyes locked on you, watching your every reaction, feeding off the way your chest rises and falls in quick, shallow breaths.

"Like this?" he asks, his tone taunting as he strokes himself from base to tip, his thumb swiping over the head with a low hiss. “That what you wanted?”

Your breath catches in your throat at the sight of him, straining and in his hand. The sight of his thumb brushing over the tip of his cock sends a hot, electric pulse through your body, your hand between your legs moving in time with his slow strokes.

"Yeah," you whisper, voice trembling with need. "Just like that."

You slip your hand lower, sliding two fingers inside yourself with a low moan. Logan groans like he’s the one being touched, his hand speeds up, eyes glued to where your fingers disappear in your slick heat.

His cock leaks pre-come over his knuckles each time his fist passes over the dripping head, the wet sound of it mixing with the low hum of the fan and your own breathy sighs.

"You look so fuckin' good like this honey," Logan groans, his voice rough, strained. "All spread out, playing with that pretty pussy for me."

You whimper at his words, your body aching for more than just your own touch. You need him, need the feel of his rough hands on your skin, his mouth, his cock—anything.

Your fingers move faster, slipping deeper inside with each pump, but it’s still not enough. The stretch is nothing compared to taking Logan, to the feeling of him carving a place for his thick cock inside your pussy, hitting that spot inside you that your fingers can’t quite reach.

Your hips buck up towards your hand, your back arching off the chair as your free hand clutches the armrest tightly.

Logan’s pace quickens, his fist pumping his cock with a new urgency, heavy balls bouncing with every rough tug.

“God, look at you, such a needy fuckin’ thing” he growls, chest heaving as his gaze flicks between your flushed face and the glistening mess you’re making of yourself like he can’t decide where to look. “You want it bad, don’t you?”

"Please," you whine, desperation creeping into your voice. Too keyed up to draw this out any longer. “I need you inside me, Logan. I can’t take it anymore.”

Logan groans, a sound that rumbles deep in his chest. His hand falters slightly on his cock, squeezing hard around the base as your words push him dangerously close to the edge. His jaw clenches, eyes raking over you, and with a growl, he stands. 

The last threads of his restraint snapping.

 He crosses the room in two long strides, towering over you where you sit. His cock swollen and hard, sways between his legs with every step, glistening with pre-come that drips to the floor. His eyes, hooded and burning, drink you in as he reaches down, yanking your hand away from your slick heat.

“Thought you said it was too hot to move,” you tease breathlessly, unable to quit egging him on even when your legs start to tremble with need, spreading wider to welcome him.

Logan ignores you, tugging your hand to his lips. Your breath catches in your chest, a weak moan escaping you as he takes your soaked fingers in his mouth. His tongue swirling along your skin to taste you, his eyes never leaving yours as he does.

“Changed my mind,” he growls, strong hands rough and possessive as they drop your wrist and haul you out of the chair so he can spin around, collapsing into it with you in his lap. The wood gives a warning creak beneath you but neither of you care.

Not when his mouth is on yours, hot and demanding as he slides his tongue past the seam of your lips. The heat radiating off his body is suffocating, but you welcome it—craving the weight of him on you.

You melt against him, feeling the hard planes of his body against yours, every inch of him alive and pulsating with need. Logan’s hands find their way to your hips, fingers digging in just enough to send a rush coursing through you.

It’s intoxicating, the way he devours you, his hands exploring every inch of your back, grasping and pulling you impossibly closer. 

The hard jut of his cock presses against your thigh, a thick plane of heat that makes your pussy throb with need. You shift your hips, grinding down on him in messy circles.

“You feel that?” he growls, lips brushing against your ear. “That’s all for you, darlin’.”

“Need you,” you whimper, grinding down against him faster, desperate for the friction that sends pleasure rippling through you. “Please, Logan, I need you inside me now.”

“Hold on, baby,” he murmurs, his voice low and husky, sending sparks all up your spine.

He dips his head, capturing your lips again, while his hands roam hungrily down your sides, fingers curling around your thighs to urge your legs open wider. “You wanna tease me, you’re gonna have to get off just like this.”

Logan angles his hips so that his cock slips between your drenched folds the next time you roll your own down.

The hot, slick glide sends electric shocks of pleasure racing through you, your body responding instinctively to his touch. You gasp against his lips, fingers tangling in his hair as you push down, desperate for more.

“God, you’re so fuckin’ wet,” he growls, his voice dripping with lust as he watches your movements with hungry eyes. “Just for me, huh? She’s droolin’ just for me.”

You nod breathlessly, chasing the friction, craving the feel of him so close. You lift your hips and rock back down again, the blunt head of his cock brushing against your swollen clit, and you feel your body pulse in response. 

“More,” you plead, leaning in to nibble at his lower lip. “I need it.”

Logan pulls away, shaking his head with a wicked grin. “Come on, tough shot,” he says, giving your ass a quick smack and kneading the tender flesh in his hand roughly. “You’re gonna come like this, you can do it baby.”

You whine, dropping your chin to your chest. Your hands find his shoulders, nails digging crescent moons into the strong muscle. Your chest slips slickly against his, the front of your tank almost entirely soaked with sweat.

Yours or his, it doesn't matter. The white cotton turned transparent enough that your breasts are on full display, nipples hard and visible.

You watch a single bead of sweat make its way down the length of his throat. It trickles down and down and down until it dips between the pronounced muscles of his chest.

You duck your head, dragging your tongue up the valley of his pecs. A deep moan bursts from your lips, pussy drooling more slick over Logan’s cock at the coarse feel of his thick hair on your tongue, at the heady taste of his sweat filling your senses.

Logan groans, hands tightening their hold on your waist. The dull ache his strength leaves behind is enough to let you know that two hand shaped bruises will be blooming over your skin by tomorrow morning. 

“Come on, girly,” he encourages, nipping at the sweaty column of your throat, the sharp points of his teeth scraping along the sensitive skin deliciously. “Fuck me, give it to me good.”

Your hips speed up, his hard cock sliding through the slick folds of your cunt faster. The tip bumps against your clit deliciously with every move, smearing pre-come along the way to add even more to the mess between your legs.

“Gonna fuckin’ fill you up,” he groans, breath puffing warm and hot agasint the slick skin of your lips. “Pump you so full of my come you’ll be leakin’ for a goddamn week.”

He shifts underneath you, the tip of his cock catching on your entrance just enough for it to push inside on the next grind of your hips.

The barely there fullness has you coming with a sharp cry, nails roughly dragging down Logan’s back hard enough to leave red welts that heal as you go.

The pain mixing with the pleasure of finally getting to feel the warm, wet suction of your pussy has Logan coming with a rough shout of your name. He throws his head back, hands tightening their grip on your hips enough to have your bones grinding together as he pumps you full of his come. 

“Logan…” you mewl, your pussy fluttering over the tip of his cock, greedy little clenches like you're trying to suck him the rest of the way in. Drunk on the way his release paints your insides, how you can feel each thick spray coating your walls to claim you in the rawest way.

Logan pulls back just far enough to meet your gaze, his eyes dark and smoldering as he watches you squirm in his lap.

"You’re not tapping out on me already, are you?" he teases, his voice rough and gravelly. "I thought you were tougher than that."

A weak, breathy laugh escapes you, but it’s cut short when he applies just a little more pressure, making your thighs quiver. "Not tapping out," you manage between shallow breaths, your head falling back against the chair. "But you’re—fuck—you’re insatiable."

Logan smirks, leaning in to nip at the sensitive skin of your throat, his teeth scraping just enough to send shivers coursing through you.

"When it comes to you, baby?" he murmurs against your skin, the heat of his breath fanning over your pulse point. "Fuckin’ always."

A lazily smile takes over your lips as you tighten your core and push, the rest of Logan’s come leaking out over his fingers. Logan groans, pressing his forehead to your shoulder to try and ground himself.

His cock throbs where it sways heavily between his thighs, still hard and ready to go even after he just came. His hand slips down your body, thick fingers running through the creamy mess of come and slick to messily push it back inside you.

“Fuckin’ shit, honey,” he groans lowly, pressing his thumb to your clit. “You’re gonna kill me.” 

Before you can respond, he stands again, gently placing your trembling form back into the chair and dropping to his knees in front of you.

Your breath hitches, legs widening despite the way your pussy shakes with overstimulation, like you can’t help but spread your legs for Logan anytime he wants.

Logan smirks up at you from between your legs, his lips already ghosting over the inside of your thigh. "Look at you," he growls, voice low and filled with lust. "Still so needy."

The slick heat of his tongue runs along your folds, lapping at the mess he just made of you. You let out a sharp gasp, thighs trembling as your fingers weave into his hair, tugging him closer.

The sensation is overwhelming—the rough, demanding pace of his tongue as it swirls around your clit, teasing you, while his hands grip your thighs with bruising force. Keeping you exactly where he wants you, keeping you spread open for his tongue.

Your body arches off the chair with a loud cry, every nerve alight with raw pleasure as he feasts on you, his growls vibrating against your sensitive skin.

"Fuck! Logan," you moan breathlessly, head falling back as you try to keep up with the sensations he's pulling from you.

The heat that was pooling low in your belly reignites, stoked by the way his tongue flicks faster against your clit, each stroke sending you higher.

Logan doesn’t let up, his tongue delving deeper, drinking in every moan, every shaky gasp as he drives you closer to the edge. He moans into your pussy, his own arousal clear in the way his hips buck into the air, seeking any kind of friction.

You tug on his hair harder, desperate for more, for release. "Logan, please," you whimper, your voice barely above a whisper, thick with need.

"Atta’ girl," he rasps, his voice thick with desire as he watches your face contort with pleasure. "So fuckin’ pretty like this. You gonna give me another one, baby? Gonna come for me again?"

Every lick, every rough squeeze to your thighs, every teasing stroke sends you spiraling closer to that edge you’re dying to reach again. You can feel the heat radiating off him, his breath hot against your soaked skin and driving you wild.

“Logan, I—” You gasp, fingers tightening in his hair, urging him closer, closer, closer. “I’m so close—”

His eyes flick up to meet yours, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, nose and jaw glistening in your juices.

"Give it to me," he growls, the rough rasp of his voice sending a shiver through your overheated body. "I wanna feel you come on my tongue."

It’s all the encouragement you need. With a strangled cry, your body tenses, thighs quaking as the orgasm crashes over you.

Logan keeps his mouth on you, tongue working you through every pulse, drawing it out until you’re trembling and gasping, your body boneless in the chair.

When you finally come down, panting and spent, Logan pulls away. With one last kiss pressed over your clit, he makes his way up your body, not dropping eye contact as he settles over you.

His hand comes up to your face, thumbs meanly hooking into either side of your cheeks to gently force your mouth open. You part your lips willingly, the heat still radiating between you, a mix of lingering pleasure.

Logan leans in, and the intoxicating scent of sweat and sex surrounds you as he spits what he collected from between your legs back into your own mouth. 

Your cheeks burn with shame, a broken moan ringing through the space between you. Your glassy eyes stare into Logan’s, his own gaze so intense and all consuming you fight the urge to squirm.

"Swallow," he commands, unwavering. 

You hesitate for just a moment, caught off guard by the pure audacity, but the way his eyes darken with hunger makes your resolve crumble. With a breathless whimper, you obey, tasting the remnants of your own pleasure mingling with his, the act both humiliating and intensely arousing.

Logan watches you closely, his gaze never straying as you swallow, a dirty smirk creeping onto his lips. “That's my girl,” he praises, his tone thick with satisfaction.

As the taste lingers on your tongue, you can feel the weight of Logan’s stare like a physical touch.

“Think you can handle another round?” he teases, his voice low and sultry. “I don’t plan on letting you off that easy, kid. Not with all that mouthing off earlier.”

You catch your breath, shaking your head in exasperation. “You’re relentless,” you whisper, a hint of laughter in your voice, though your body betrays you, already craving more.

“Only for you, baby” he replies, brushing the strands of hair plastered to your sweaty forehead behind your ear. “Only for you.”

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mini nat's note: i started my period today chickens...that explains it...

Vanity Unfair

The shoot wrapped hours ago, but Austin never changed. He’s still in that half-absurd, half-perfect outfit from Vanity Fair: a crisp black tuxedo jacket, satin bow tie, white dress shirt and a silk pocket square with an arrow pinned to his lapel. 

The top half screams Hollywood elegance; while the bottom half is pure chaos: pale blue jeans so distressed they’re threaded in places, and polished black dress shoes that somehow look even more expensive under the wrecked denim.

You’re back at his place, relaxing in the cavernous living room lit by afternoon light, casually leaning over the marble countertop bar as you admire him.

His ridiculous orange-red velvet couch takes over half the space, and he’s claimed it like a throne: one foot propped on the coffee table, legs spread wide, looking every bit the movie star that wandered off the red carpet and decided to stay.

He watches you… his gaze wandering over your body until he catches the tiny tilt of your head, because you already know he’s choosing exactly where he wants you next.

He crooks a finger at you, grinning slow and lazy, the same way he does on set when he wants the camera closer.

You cross the room until you’re standing between his legs and he looks up at you, his lips parted just enough that you can see the tip of his tongue resting against his teeth.

You study his handsome face, still thinking about how unreal he looked filming his Vanity Fair interview. 

“Watching you next to Michael B. Jordan and Paul Mescal today…you three looked like the most unfair lineup in the world.” you tease, tracing your fingertip along the satin knot of his bow tie.

He slides one hand up your thigh without hesitation, staring up at you with those ridiculous blue eyes.

“Unfair?” he says, his voice low and playful. “Baby, the way you kept staring… I thought you were gonna leave me for one of them right there on the soundstage.”

You smile before leaning down to kiss him, soft at first, letting him lean in to it, then taking him deeper as you whisper against his mouth… “You’re all I want.”

He answers with a low hum in his throat as he kisses you back, his thumb stroking your inner thigh before he pulls his lips from yours.

“Show me,” he says softly, and when you step closer, he slides one big hand between your thighs, his thumb testing the edge of your panties.

As you look at him he pushes the fabric aside and slips two fingers into you slow, careful, curling them exactly right until your knees buckle a little as his free hand grips your thigh to steady you.

“Fuck… listen to you,” he breathes, his eyes locked between your legs where his hand disappears beneath your skirt. His fingers move steady and deep through your slickness and your walls pulse faintly around them as you sigh. “Hear how sweet that sounds? All that… just for me.”

Your thighs shake slightly as he continues and you can’t help it, not with the way he’s thrusting his fingers inside you, watching your every reaction like it’s his favorite film.

“You’re gonna fall apart before I even start,” he breathes, his voice dropping lower almost reverent.

You gasp softly, your hips tilting forward into his hand chasing the pleasure knowing he’s right, and your fingers grip his shoulders for balance. He speeds up, thrusting faster like he’s waited long enough holding back for you, and the soft sounds become louder, wetter, obscene in the quiet room. 

You gasp, fingers sliding into his curls as your breaths turn into soft, broken whimpers.

“Let me hear you baby” he says, lips parted in awe, blue eyes bright. “Louder, baby, I wanna hear how much you love it.”

You can’t hold the sounds anymore and they spill out higher, broken, desperate. Your thighs tense with every precise stroke of his fingers, and he groans like it’s his cock inside of you instead.

“You’re so gorgeous when you can’t take it,” he whispers, curling his fingers harder, watching your face like he’s memorizing exactly how you break. “Come baby, let me feel you fall apart right on my fingers...”

Your thighs squeeze together around his hand, voice breaking on his name as you come. He hums, low and reverent, pulling his soaked fingers to his mouth and inhaling your scent as he sucks them clean like he’s savoring the best taste in the world.

“Fuck, baby,” he says, low and rough and he pulls you forward, your knee landing on the couch between his thighs as he fists the front of your top yanking the neckline down. His mouth latches onto your breast warm and soft as he sucks with enough force to make you gasp.

He’s messy and needy, teeth grazing the peak as he pulls off with a wet pop that shoots right through your core. He switches to the other laving and pulling it into his mouth with a firm squeeze of his hand.

As he sucks your nipple, his other hand works his jeans; the urgent pop of a button, the clumsy rasp of his zipper, his breath hitching against your skin as he shoves his jeans down and his cock pushes up in his lap.

Your fingers slide into his hair, tugging just enough for his head to tip back, and his mouth leaves your nipple as his breaths fans across your chest, his blue eyes wide as he looks up at you.

You kiss him heavily, lips and tongues sliding together until his breath catches, and you drop to your knees between his thighs. 

He sighs a sound of disbelief as his hand settles on your head, fingertips stroking through your hair.

He’s hard and heavy against your palm as you take him into your mouth, slow at first, then deeper, wetter, letting the lewd sounds fill the room because you know he enjoys hearing how much you love it.

His hips jerk; his thighs tensing under the distressed denim, and you can feel the exact moment it tips from pleasure to overstimulation  for him.

His breath stutters, legs twitching, hands flying from your hair to grip the couch like he’s holding on for dear life.

“Baby—fuck—” he cries, voice cracking, and you don’t stop, you suck around the head, then take him deeper, and his whole body locks up. A broken sound tears out of him, half-gasp, half-moan, like he can’t believe this is happening to him.

He gently grasps a fistfuls of your hair, eyes wild and glassy. “Baby get up—” he breathes almost begging.

You’re barely on your feet before he’s pulling you down beneath him. He shoves your skirt up, your legs high as he pulls off your panties, then he’s bracing over you lining himself up. 

He pushes in with one slick thrust and the noise he makes is pure satisfaction as he groans like it’s exactly what he’s been waiting for.

He starts to thrust, fast and hard, groaning against your mouth every time you moan, one hand braced on the couch, the other sliding up to wrap gently around your throat.

"Look at me," he whispers, and when you do, he presses in just enough that your breath catches. The room narrows to his blue eyes his swollen lips and the way he thrusts hard and fast, hitting exactly where you need it, punching moans from your throat as you orgasm with his hand around your neck.

He follows right after, pressing his face to the side of yours neck laughing breathlessly like he can't believe his luck.

You stay like that, resting on the orange velvet couch, the fading after noon sun highlighting his ruined Vanity Fair look: bow tie loose, jacket hanging open, jeans low on his hips.

He kisses your shoulder then your neck, soft now, puppy-sweet again.

“I’m so glad you’re mine baby.” He says, lazy and satisfied.

You laugh, warm and breathless, sliding your hand into his hair. “I wouldn’t want to be anybody else’s, Austin.”

He grins, kissing along the line of your jaw as his nose brushes your cheek. “Good,” he says, slow and sure, his lips barely leaving your skin. “Keep reminding me, baby.”

END 🎬

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Honey Bunny

The night air is crisp, carrying the faint scent of autumn leaves as you stand at Austin’s front door, your heart fluttering with excitement. Your pink high-cut leotard accentuates every curve, the fabric shimmering under the soft glow of his porch lights. 

Your sparkle glitter fishnet tights catch the light with every subtle movement, and your pink satin gloves, adorned with delicate fur trim, grasp a bag of assorted candy you brought for trick-or-treaters. 

White bunny ears with matching pink inlay are perched in your hair, and your fluffy bunny tail is pinned perfectly in place as you adjust your stance in your pink heels.

You’re all smiles and joy, feeling cute and festive, excited to celebrate Halloween with your boyfriend Austin.

He’s famous, having his fair share of clubbing and costume parties, so when he opted to chill and watch movies instead you completely understood, though part of you still wanted to get in the holiday spirit.

You press the doorbell and the chime echoes throughout Austin’s sprawling secluded estate. A moment later the door swings open, golden light spilling out, and there he stands, tall, broad-shouldered and impossibly handsome. 

Austin Butler.

He’s relaxed in a casual dark gray tee and jeans, his sandy-brown hair tousled perfectly.

His blue eyes go wide, then drop quickly and helplessly down the length of you, choking back his words, as he stares at you, utterly stunned.

You beam at him, bouncing in your heels.

“Happy Halloween!” You greet, stepping forward and planting a quick kiss on his cheek as you pass him into the house.

“Hey, baby…” he manages, his voice low and a little hoarse, like he’s still trying to process what he’s seeing, and his throat bobs as he shuts the door, his mind scrambling as he follows you inside.

His eyes are glued to the sway of your ass, the fluffy bunny tail perched so high and sweet, your voice bright and bubbly as you head toward the kitchen.

“This is gonna be so fun! I can’t wait to see all the costumes tonight, I brought so much candy for the trick-or-treaters!” You exclaim your bunny tail swaying with each step.

Austin’s eyes are glued on you, the high-cut pink leotard leaving little to the imagination, his mind is in a haze as he follows you, trying to remember what he was going to say.

You set the candy bag on the sleek marble counter in his expensive kitchen, chattering about the Snickers and Reese’s you picked. Austin blinks a few times, his gaze lingering on your legs in the glittery fishnets sparkling under the soft lighting. 

Finally he clears his throat, his voice slow as he manages to find words . “Uh, baby, there’s no trick-or-treaters up here. The neighborhood it’s … gated.”

You turn to face him, head tilting slightly your lips forming the perfect little “o” as disappointment flickers across your face. 

His heart aches just looking at you, and his eyes dip traitorous low to the cleavage spilling from your plunging neckline. He quickly tears his gaze back up trying to be a gentleman and keep his eyes on your face.

“Don’t worry, baby,” he says, his voice softer with reassurance. “We’ll have fun tonight just like we planned,” he says, and you smile at him, wondering about all the years of wild Hollywood Halloween parties he’s been to.

As he gets to work making popcorn, you watch him finding it sweet now that at this stage in his life, he just wants to stay in and cozy up in his massive mansion enjoying a quiet movie with you.

He pulls a bottle of expensive red wine from the wine room and pours two ample glasses.

“Ever seen Poltergeist?” he asks, his tone casual as he hands you a glass.

“Nope!” you grin, taking a sip of the wine, expecting something light and fun like Hocus Pocus.

“It’s one of my favorites,” he says, glancing back at you as he leads you deeper into the house, balancing the popcorn bowl and bottle of wine with ease as you follow him.

You settle into his enormous living room, the flickering fireplace casting warm shadows across the space.

You kick off your pink heels, tucking your legs beneath you on the plush sectional, the wineglass cradled in your satin-gloved hands. 

Austin sits beside you, smiling as he drapes his arm along the back of the couch, keeping you close.

The opening credits of Poltergeist roll, and you’re already feeling a little nervous. It doesn’t look like the cute Halloween movie you had in mind, but you don’t say anything, hoping it won’t be too scary.

Within 30 minutes, you’re clutching the wineglass like a lifeline, downing it in a few quick gulps and setting it on the table as the tension on screen builds.

When the first jump scare hits, you yelp, burying your face right into Austin’s neck, your body sprawled across his lap as he laughs, his voice slow and soft.

“What’s wrong, honey bunny?” he teases, his long fingers finding the bunny tail, playing with the softness before trailing over the curves of your ass, squeezing against the glittery fishnets that disappear into the leotard.

“Is it too scary for you?” he whispers, his voice low and warm against your ear as you straddle his lap, face buried under his chin.

“I thought we were doing soft spooky…” you admit hands sliding up his chest arms draping over his shoulders. “Cuddles and candy.” You whisper pressing closer, and he reaches for the remote to turn off the TV.

When the screen goes dark, you pull back just enough to meet his gaze.

“Cuddles and candy huh,” he says, his blue eyes darkening as he studies your face, and then he leans gently kissing you.

His lips are warm and soft against yours, and your satin-gloved hands slide up his neck as he deepens the kiss, the taste of wine lingering between you.

It’s slow and hazy, your lips moving together like you’re drunk on each other, until your head tips back as you grin, feeling his hands roam down your costume squeezing your hips over the fishnets.

“Baby… you look so fucking sexy in this little outfit,” he whispers, thumbs tracing slow, teasing lines up and down your inner thighs.

“Dressed up as such a pretty bunny for me,” he praises, and his lips trail kisses down your chest, tongue licking across the swell of your cleavage like he’s been starving for you.

His hands slide up your back, holding you close, and you can feel the thick press of his cock straining against you through his jeans.

Your thighs shift forward, body acting on instinct, and he drags his tongue in a slow, wet line up the valley of your breasts, kissing the spot above your racing heart, blue eyes locked on yours.

“You want more than cuddles and candy…” he says, against your skin, looking at you with a teasing smile on his full lips.

“Yeah…Aus please…” you breathe, and his fingers find the simple zipper at the back of your leotard, peeling it down and exposing your breasts as he groans at the sight.

His large hand cups one possessively, and he lowers his head, sucking your nipple into his mouth, his warm tongue swirling over the sensitive peak.

You gasp, satin-gloved hands sliding through his hair as you feel the hot pull of his tongue, the graze of his teeth making your whole body weak, your voice breaking with a half-dizzy moan of “Austin…”

He hums against your skin, the vibration making you shiver, his mouth claiming your other nipple with a slow reverent pull, each suck leaving you trembling in his grasp.

His hand lowers between your legs, pulling the fabric aside, and he releases your nipple with a wet pop as he glances down, seeing the glittery fishnets shimmering against your bare skin with nothing underneath.

“Baby……you’re not wearing any panties” he says, his voice hushed, almost desperate, his eyes snapping up to meet yours.

“It would… ruin the look..…” you admit, breathless, and his blue eyes darken with a dangerous edge.

Before you can say another word, his fingers hook into the middle seam, and tear the fishnets apart with a sharp rip, the sound echoing the quiet room.

You gasp, your body trembling as he lifts you effortlessly to your knees, his hands steady as he unzips his jeans, lowering them as he pulls his cock out, thick and heavy, the flushed tip glistening as he looks up at you.

“C’mere, sweet bunny,” he whispers, guiding you slowly down onto his cock, and you moan unrestrained as he fills you up.

You pant as your walls adjust to his size, and he becomes lost in his own desire, his voice rough and he incoherent as he whispers. “My sweet little bunny, caught in a trap.”

His lips find your neck, sucking and biting softly, his teeth grazing your skin as his groans deepen. He cups your breasts, sucking each one, and you’re moaning, soft, sweet sounds spilling from your lips as you bounce up and down, his cock thrusting in and out, making your clit pulse each time.

His hands slide down to grip your hips, urging you faster but your thighs burn with effort, a shaky whimper slipping out as your rhythm falters. “Aus..I can’t….” you gasp.

He takes over in an instant, flipping you onto the couch, the room spinning as he lays you down, spreading your legs.

He thrusts back in slow and deep, his grip tightening on your thighs as he drives into you, hitting that perfect spot over and over.

Your moans rise in your throat, soft and breathless, his pace increasing as the slick sounds echo between your bodies.

“So perfect… I don’t want to stop,” he rasps, his voice filled with lust as he lowers his chest to yours. His mouth is everywhere, biting your neck, nipping at your shoulder, marking you as he thrusts into you.

His hand slips between your thighs, fingers finding your clit with practiced ease, circling slowly at first, then faster, pressing in just right until your back arches off the couch.

Your voice is high and shaky as he groans against your ear feeling you milking him with every stroke. “Fuck, you feel so good… you’re gonna make me come,” he rasps.

Your thighs shake, pleasure rising fast until it overtakes you and you start to orgasm, your walls fluttering tightly around his cock as soft cries escape your lips.

His hands lock on your hips, his thrusts relentless as he follows, groaning your name as he spills inside of you, his heavy breaths filling the quiet space.

You’re both panting, the movie long forgotten as you glance down at yourself, assessing the damage. 

Your leotard is half-off, the fishnets ripped clean open at the crotch, and reaching up you feel your bunny ears barely on your head.

You giggle, the sound rising light and airy as you slowly regain your senses. “Austin, you owe me a new costume,” you tease.

He smiles, his nose brushing against yours in a soft, affectionate nuzzle. “As long as you wear it for me.”  he says, his voice warm and full of promise.

END 🐰

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There was plenty of evidence to help you understand how he was feeling. It was in the heaviness of his breath; the stomp of his feet against the floor; the scowl that had frozen his warm smile over; the deep, deep trouble behind his usually calm eyes. It could have been any of that. But truly, what it was, was the dust particles floating through the air, catching in the light that slipped through the garage’s single window. They only flew with each thud of his bare fist against the punching bag, the one that had sat, untouched, for years now. 

When you married him, he had suggested to just throw it away or donate it—no need to have a visual reminder of the violence he was so desperate to leave behind. He had found God, and He had helped him find you. The new Reverend was not interested in letting his sinful, hateful past thread between the fibers of his new life. You, however, had insisted he keep it. Let it take up space. Let it be there, ‘just in case.’ And today, years, later, case there was.

He could feel your presence in the doorway. You knew it, too, that your presence, leaning against the doorway, filled his peripherals with each grunt that escaped him. You didn’t dare speak, though. Not out of fear, but out of respect for him, his emotions, and his commitment to his calling. He wouldn’t share with you. He couldn’t. The sacramental seal was the last thing he would betray. But still, you’d wait for him to say anything. And as the first, slow tear trickled down from his eye, mingling with the sweat that had dripped into the collar he had yet to remove, his mouth finally opened.

“I can’t tell y—”

“I know.”

He finally stopped punching, his head sagging forward against the bag. You stepped into the garage, stopping just in front of him, and erached toward his throat. With sharp, efficient care, you undid the small, brass clasp. The damp, rigid plastic of the Roman collar came away, peeling off his neck like a useless bandage. You let it drop. It made a tacky, pathetic sound hitting the floor.

“Monsignor Wicks, isn’t it?” you ask slowly, your voice quiet before you meet his eyes. “It’s obvious how much he doesn’t want you there.”

Jud sighs, going to go sit on the workbench on the side of the garage. Your wedding ring catches the sunlight as you follow him. 

“Every week, it’s the same shit that he forces me to listen to,” Jud breathes, letting his head fall to his hands. “I am happy to take his confession. It’s my job to help him reconcile with God. It’s my job to be the shepherd. But they expect the shepherd to be a silent, stainless vessel. And they forget that sometimes, the vessel can crack.”

“You’re shaking,” you remark, catching the tremble of his hands. 

“I’m still angry,” he replies, clenching his fists. “And I wouldn’t have to be here if I had just been less hateful in the first place.” 

“The deacon deserved it,” you quickly retort, rolling your eyes. “He sucked. He got what he had coming.” You reach for one of his clenched fists, forcing it open to place your hand in it. He finally lifts his head, meeting your eyes. “You don’t have to be the Reverend, or the shepherd, or the father, right now,” you say quietly. “You can just be Jud, if you want.” Your fingers thread between his. 

The instant those words leave your mouth, his eyes flash. Not quite hope, but certainly bent in that direction by the strength of his tension. “Your husband,” he breathes. “Just Jud.”

You nod, a thin smile on your face. 

Marriage had saved Jud. You two were young when you made your vows, barely 20 years old. Somehow, though, wise enough beyond your years to have married as soulmates. Plenty of time had passed, and still, those vows rang as true as the day they had been spoken before the lord. 

“Your husband,” he breathes once more, before letting his lips crash to yours. “It’s everywhere,” he pants between desperate kisses, leaning over you. “His words. They’re everywhere. In my head. In my mouth. I can taste his hatred. I need to make it stop. It needs to stop.”

He moves with the practiced, coiled speed of a boxer, seizing you. The bench you sat on was forgotten. He maneuvers you against the cold concrete wall, his body caging yours, blocking the humiliating light of the overhead utility strip.

His hands, thick and strong, go to his own clothing first. Once he rips his shirt off, he throws it. The motion is an aggressive rejection of the spiritual uniform, a physical act of defiance against the man who misused the collar's authority.

He doesn’t remove your clothes so much as he simply displaced them, urgently creating skin-to-skin contact. His movements are rough, driven by the frantic need to replace the vile, lingering residue of Wicks's presence with something pure, honest, and real—the reality of his wife, the reality of his marriage.

His lips fall to yours once more, his hands sliding anywhere they can, desperate to anchor himself to his greatest salvation: you. With a ragged gasp, he pulls back, but immediately brings his kisses down your neck, across your collarbone, and to your waiting breasts. 

“Is this what you need from me?” you softly pant, your eyes wide with both want and concern. 

“I need to feel you,” he replies. “I’m so mad.” His hands travel between your parted thighs, rubbing at the growing wetness of your pussy, eager to get you ready for him. “I need you,” he hisses again, tongue swirling around your peaking nipple.

“Bed,” you reply. The snap in your tone makes him look up. “It’s cold in here!” you sheepishly reply. He can’t help the whisper of a smile that takes over his lips at that moment. He lifts you against his naked body, leaving the pile of both of your clothes behind as he treks to the bedroom.

He wastes no time when he places you down, spreading yout legs wide open to slide one finger into your waiting heat. A short gasp escapes you, your hands finding his toned chest, sliding down to his rippling abs. 

“Lean down,” you huff as he slides the second finger in. “Let me kiss you.”

He smiles, endeared, as he brings his face closer to yours, his fingers thrusting at an angry pace. Your lips flutter over his neck, tracing the lines of his tattoo and down his throat. 

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he pants, thumb rolling your clit, now. “I need to be inside you, but I’m so upset. I don’t think I can be nice.”

“You wouldn’t hurt me,” you’re quick to reply. “And you don’t have to confess anything to me. I want you to feel better. I want to help you feel better.”

“I don’t want you to be mad at me,” he practically whines. “I can’t hold it back.”

“I couldn’t be mad if I tried.”

One final look of assurance is all it takes before Jud is sliding his hands to your hips, his thick, wide cock thrusting into you with the anger and speed of a man truly scorned. 

“He shouldn’t be allowed,” Jud grunts out, though you can barely hear him over your own moans and the slap of his skin against yours. “He shouldn’t be allowed to run a church. He’s so selfish. He’s terrible. He’s—he’s scum.”

It’s hard to focus on Jud’s emotional rant when you’re already close to seeing stars, but you try your best. “Mhm,” you manage to whine out. “He’s a poor excuse for a priest. I’m so sorry—oh my goodness—!”

The cries that you’re unable to contain bring him back to what’s in front of him: his loving, caring wife, who’s inches from a mind-boggling orgasm.

“Don’t even think about him right now, Jud,” you gasp out. “Just focus on this. And yourself. Does it feel good?”

“So good,” he mutters, his eyes relaxing as he hears you. “You feel so good. You’re everything. You’re perfect.” He pulls out slowly, chest heaving, before slamming back into you, hard enough to steal your breath. His eyes lock on yours as he begins to drive himself even harder than before. "You," he gasps out with every thrust. "I need you. This is the truth. This is the only truth."

The rage was now completely subsumed by desire. The roughness wasn't about pain, but about absolute, uncontrolled passion—the kind of messy, glorious, release that only a deeply bonded couple could share. His face was a mask of sweat and agony and intense satisfaction, his back muscles pulling tight with the strain.

You felt the tension coiling impossibly tight inside you. You were seconds away from breaking, propelled by his furious devotion.

“So close,” he groans, his head falling to your neck, hot pants escaping onto your skin. “You’re so good. You feel so good.” His eyes are shut in bliss and concentration as his hips grow impossibly faster, both of you inches from your release. 

Finally, it hits him. The sound that tears from his chest is a deep, ragged groan of pure relief, a primal sound that has nothing to do with collars or churches, and everything to do with being twenty-something, furious, and utterly loved. He trembles as he releases, his fingers rubbing over your clit with intent and devotion.

“Please give it to me,” he begs. “Let me have this from you. I know you can do it, I know you—”

“Jud!” you gasp out, back arching, toes curling. “J-Jud, Jud—yes!” Your orgams crashes over you, and his fingers drag those waves of pleasure through you until your hips are beginning to twitch from the overstimulation. Slowly, he removes his hand, his body lowering onto yours. 

The room is silent for several minutes, the sound of both of your breaths mingling with the descending sunlight that filters through the window. Finally, when your heart rate has slowed enough for your eyes to open, you speak. 

“So we can both agree that I was right about keeping the punching bag, right?”

He snorts at your remark, his eyes fluttering open as he tilts his head slightly to meet your gaze. “You can be right about whatever you want. You’re right about everything, okay? I love you.”

“I love you too.” Your voice is quiet once again, your smile small yet warm.