#flockoff-featherface

logan howlett the man that you are. logan and you had long since been sneaking around together, behind everyone else's backs. from secret, quiet sneak aways in close closets to quick fucks behind lockers - the two of you had done it all!

well...

not quite all.

you see, there's one thing about logan. he's been nice. too nice. nice to the point that it's weird. and let's be entirely honest here folks - mean logan... well, you'd be lying if you said it didn't do something to you, everytime he'd get rough and tough.

which is how tonight, as he's snuck into your quarters, you finally muster up the courage to ask hi-

"-be mean, lo."

"mean???"

"yes! i can fucking take it!"

"...ya sure???"

"yes. be mean!"

"..."

"..."

he thinks it over long and hard (hey, guess what else is long and har-). you can practically see the cogs turning in his brain before he sighs and nods, shrugging his shoulders before slowly stripping down in front of you,

"get to it, princess. ya want mean logan, ya get mean logan."

he's stripping and you're stripping. his eyes scan over your body - filled with lust and hunger - as your own eyes scan over his. what you don't quite expect then is his arm darting out around your waist, yanking you into him,

"get down, now. on ya back, princess."

you don't dare say no, the change in tone suddenly sending pulses through your body. you can't hold back the moan's in your throat as he practically manhandles you - pushing your knees up beside your face. he takes one slow look down your body again, smirking as he takes in just how we- well, he says it better,

"all this, baby? already wet? gonna need ya to last f'me, princess.."

he's mocking you. he's mocking you and you're wetter and wetter than before. it's... well, it should be humiliating, but your brain doesn't know the fucking difference right now.

he pulls your legs open, letting a bead of spit dribble down from his lips for a moment, before actually lowering down - spitting on your clit. your body unintentionally tightens and convulses slightly as he presses your legs down properly.

"oh, ya like that, huh?"

one thing you've learnt is logan is really, genuinely, truly into eye contact. eye contact does everything for him. he makes intense, deep eye contact as you squirm under his arms. he doesn't really wait for you to respond - plunging his thick length into you as your back arches under him.

he should be going slow, he should be taking his time and whispering sweet nothings into your ear. he should be making you feel reaaaaal good as you wrap your arms around his neck, whining into his ears. instead, he's fucking you rough and hard from the get go - not giving you time to adapt and get used to him. weirdly enough, it works. the rough pace, the way his hands hold you (in a way that does not allow you to close your legs, or run away) and how he mutters filthy, dirty words into your ears...

"...gonna fill you up- oh, ya like that too, huh? want me to fill ya up, peach? wanna get ya allll full f'me, yeah? what if i don't, pretty girl, then what?"

cut to you whining, begging, needy as he continues to pummel into you - relentless with his pace,

"f-fuck, lo-! please? p-please, baby?"

"gonna have to beg prettier, peach~"

"fill me u-up-! please, baby, please, i n-nee- oh, fuck m'close-"

and all of a sudden, he stops. all of a sudden, the high that the two of you had been climbing together plummets down into the ground. he pulls out, with that awful smile on his face that you can't tell - does it turn you on, or piss you off? both?

as your hands reach out to him, attempting to claw him back to you, he swats them away,

"patience is a virtue, princess."

as you lie there - shivering and shaking - you can't ignore the part of you that practically falls apart. he.. he promised! your eyebrows furrow over as you think it through, clarity slowly returning to you.

no, no, no - logan can't have that! clarity?? in bed with him??? not whilst he's still naked, hot and hard!

he pulls you by your hips, down to the edge of the bed and slowly enters you again. the thick squelch and pop of slick and your thick gummy walls wrapping around his cock have the two of you arching back, moaning into the humid air that surrounds the two of you.

in, out, in and out. over and over again as your nails dig into his arms. his hands press into your hips in a way that will definitely leave heavy bruises. and for once, logan is somewhat dejected at his quickened healing. the idea of your scratches up and down his arms as you tug him closer and closer, whining and moaning and begging him for more, and more has him wetter. needier.

"p-please, fuck, lo - i can't t-take i-"

"take it, baby, fuckin' take it all-"

"-gonna fuckin' cu-m, pleasepleaspleaselemmecu-!"

this time he's kind enough. this time, he doesn't stop you, nor does he pull out like an evil fucking bastard. this time, he pounds into you intentionally. over and over again until you cry out. arms and legs convulsing as he does not stop! he does not fucking stop - fucking hell, logan!

your brain is entirely gone. turned into mush as the only thing remaining is the imprint of his cock, buried deep in you. the remainder of his never ending thrusts are blurry for you, until he starts rushing. thrusting sloppier, groaning and breathing heavy until-

his thick cum fills you. each and every crevice, filling you wholly and fully. it's thick, hot and.. well. a lot. a whole, fucking, lot.

he lifts your knees up to your head, pressing them up against the mattress and holding you there as you whine. pouting, as he smirks down at you again. your teeth dart out, biting your lower lip, and his low voice sends shivers up and down your spine again,

"now, now pretty girl - gotta make it stick f'me, yeah~?"

xoxo, roe~

The weekend. Finally. After what felt like forever, the weekend had finally arrived. Most kids from the institute spent their weekends out, playing games, going shopping, doing whatever it is kids do. And teachers? Teachers spent their time supervising, forever on a cycling rota.

It just so happened, then, that both you and Logan got the weekend off.

So of course, when Logan realised, he wasted no time booking off that old cabin you liked, and planning the trip. Naturally, he'd never let you lift a finger, packing for the two of you as soon as your final lesson had finished, and practically throwing you over his shoulder.

Sure, a few weird stares from newer students, but they'd get used to it soon enough. Probably still wouldn't be the weirdest thing they'd see here.

Anyway, Logan bundles you into his truck, swaddling you in with a blanket and handing over a flask of hot chocolate as your roll your eyes,

"Really, Lo? This all necessary, baby?"

"Don't want m'sweet peach freezin' up on me already, yeah?"

"…Make a good point there.."

He huffs, before placing your joint overnight bags in the back, crossing round to his side of the truck, jumping in. All these years have passed by, yet you still can't help but to trail your eyes over his hair, his eyes, his nose, his lips, tracking down his neck, lowering over his chest. And as always, his eyes whip round to find you, huffing with a smirk this time, catching you red handed,

"Y'never change, pretty Peach."

"Well, not m'fault y'look so good, is it?"

Chuckling and shaking his head, the two of you finally begin setting off for your journey, only a quick two hours out. It's smooth, especially since you fall asleep so early on, snuggling into the blanket, hands still wrapped round the flask. Logan looks over, sighing contently at the sight of his 'sweet girl' so wrapped up nice and tight (there's a joke to be made here. Go on. Make it. I'll wait.).

Eventually enough, the truck slows down in front of the cabin, coming to a gentle stop. You're rousing from your sweet slumber, eyes still blearly as you whine into the silence. Logan walks round again, easily scooping you into his arms, letting you curl up to his chest as he carries you inside, gently placing you down on the bed inside. As he walks away, you reach out for him, your eyes pleading for him to stay.

But he presses a small kiss to your forehead, before walking away, grabbing your bags, your jackets and everything else from the truck, settling them all down and adjusting the heating (which of course, should be the first thing anyone does upon entering a cold cabin).

You peer out of the window, the snow covered pines branching down to greet you as always. Though the journey was only two hours, the sun had already set quickly, a soft, yet dark blue blanket sheet crossing the skies, with barely painted on clouds dotted around. You're so lost in staring out the window, that you don't realise two big hands wrapping round either side of your wiast, gripping you and resting a head in the crook of your neck. The action takes you by surprise, as you left out a soft gasp, before giggling and attempting to turn around.

Yet those same big hands won't let you, holding you down, ensuring you don't move. His face moves towards your ear, his hot breath flaring down your neck as he groans quietly, words quietly mumbled just for you,

"Waited so long f'this. Wanna make it count, hmm, gorgeous?"

You only hum in response, sinking back into his touch, and his chest. His hands move round to your front, as he peppers small kisses across your neck, down to your collarbone, biting down and sucking as your head lolls back over his shoulder,

"Lo…"

"Tell me, baby, tell me 'bout today, hmm?"

One hand presses you tight against him, splayed across your stomach. The other sinks lower, playing with your jeans as he makes quick work of them, unzipping with ease and lower his hand past your waistband, palm pressed against your mound, just cupping you for now. You whine and writhe in his grasp, needing more from him. He only responds by tutting, and shaking his head as he pulls back from your collarbone,

"C'mon now, baby, gotta hear them words, hmm?"

You're nodding, trying to form sentences in your brain, trying to remember what had actually happened today.

"'Kay.. wait.. uh… Good! Was good, spent the mornin' teachin' Pride and Prej-! Lo-!"

He cuts you off with a quick bite at your shoulder, his tongue smoothing over the mark to soothe you as he goes back to suck at it, ensuring a beautiful mark blooms across your skin. Yet he never stops you, encouraging you to keep going, keep talking as he teases you, pulling you further back into his embrace properly. He starts slowly circling your clit, small movements that only make you jitter and shudder in his arms.

"…a-and then wh-! Wait, wait, Lo-!"

Except the moment you actually start taking too many breaks, pausing too much for his liking, he pulls away fully. Lips, teeth, tongue and fingers, all pulled back as you gasp, immediately turning around, doe'd eyes staring back at him with need, with want, as you whine so sweetly.

Christ, he could practically hear angels singing everytime you opened your mouth. But he's not giving in so easily, not when you've gone against his instructions like that! He's clicking his tongue, shaking his head as you bat your eyelashes up at him, pleading, begging for more.

"Told'ya to keep talkin', no? But y'keep stoppin, pretty girl."

"S'not my fault.. s'too much, Lo… Please..?"

He's sighing and rolling his eyes, moving you round from his lap and lowering you down instead, one hand firmly pressed into the arch of your back. His head naturally fits perfectly against your chest as you stretch under him, adjusting to the position change,

"Y'kay there, sweets?"

"Mmmm, jus' adjustin'"

He huffs, before pulling himself and his hands back, pulling off his stupidly warm jumper and tossing it over the other side of the room. He lets your hands reach out to his waist, up his abs, across his pecs and over his arms, before ripping off the skin tight shirt that held him back. He sits over you for a moment, letting you have your.. moment.

"Take a picture."

"Ohhh m'tryin'. With m'brain, Lo."

"Brain picture, huh?"

"Yup. Brain picture."

He sighs again, before reaching to your own shirt, tugging at it before you relent to him, lifting your body and letting him pull it off. His hands travel up your body, resting at the plush of your chest, before squeezing at the plush of your chest, rolling his fingers over your nipples under your bra. Your head rolls back as you push your body up into his hands, but his touch moves on too quickly, pulling further down your body until he finally pulls your jeans and panties off.

The harsher cold air hits your folds immediately as he spreads your legs, lowering his face to your stomach first, pressing small kisses across as he moves lower and lower. Your eyes trail over his perfectly huge shoulders, that only flex as he presses his hands against your inner thighs, holding you perfectly open for him. He glances back up at you, flashing that signature grin of his, toothy and dizzying before he dives right in, his tongue immediately finding your sweetest spots, lapping at you like some starving madman.

Which, as far as descriptions go, was not inaccurate.

One month. A whole month had passed since Logan had last touched you, or you last touched Logan. Not that the two of you hadn't tried, no, more that something would happen exactly as the two of you would find each other.

The first time you recall, was in the storage room. You had gone to find the reading material for the next semester, and he had gone to find spare textbooks (two students had 'lost' theirs, in the lake). Yet as his eyes lingered over yours, he quickly placed the books down, hands wrapping round you and pulling you close, so close to kissing you, his lips just hanging above yours until Scott walked in, looking for the engineering books. And as soon as Logan's hands had found you, the sooner they had left, huffing and grabbing his textbooks before leaving. Not without Scott teasing the two of you, of course.

Incident number two was only a few days later, mind you. You had finished up cooking for the night, two plates of pasta for yourself and Logan, and were sat in the staff kitchen, waiting. Ten minutes passed before he finally made his way in your direction, sinking onto you, on the couch. The two of you stayed like that, for seven blissful minutes, until the fire alarm went off. Perfect! So now, neither of you had dinner, and the two of you had to line up, with your students, in the cold rain as Logan grumbled and you sighed. It didn't help, then, that for this academic year, Charles had gifted two halves of the same cohort to you both. The more 'unruly' kids in Logan's class, and the others in yours. Something about the two of your personalities balancing them out. So when one side started throwing claims that the other had been.. supposedly, throwing leaves at the other side, naturally the two classes began yelling, just opposite each other. Between Logan's yelling, and you pinching your nose bridge to relieve some amount of stress, neither of you were getting action that night.

And then there was the worst time. Dear gods. The two of you had finally gotten back from a slightly… spiced up workout, with him teasing you and you teasing him, until he led you both back to your room, locking the door, turning the lights low and drawing the curtains. He took his time with you, unwrapping each layer and pressing kisses across you, pushing you back towards the bed as he did. So when your knees finally hit the bed, and he tumbled over you, his head lowering to your chest immediately to attend to you, of course the bell had to go off, calling all available teachers to the student dorms. Logan growled and hit his head in the bed next to her, lifting and throwing a shirt on, before helping you dress and making your way down. Turns out, two of the boys had the brilliant idea to start a fight. At almost 1am. Each and every student was covered in a condiment of some sort, screaming and yelling and punching and fighting as you, Logan and the other teachers attempted to pull them apart.

Safe to say, whilst an exhaustion-based sleep came easy that night, neither you, nor he, came.

Yes. The month had been a nightmare.

So of course, Logan would take his time, attending to you as you writhed under his tongue, under his touch. Every few laps, he'd pull his tongue back, a satisfying popping sound as he did, before diving right back in. To make matter worse (better), the hands holding your thighs open finally moved, one arm draped across your stomach, pinning you down as the other hand moved to your clit, circling with his thumb, so soft, so sweetly as his tongue continued moving over your folds, each drip melting into his mouth, coating his tongue, his beard, dripping down his neck.

He savours the taste, taking small pauses to swirl your slick round his mouth, as though he had been fed the Holy Grail itself, each droplet his saving grace, pulling him higher and higher. Where most would consider his actions sinful, he revels in his sweet, unholy temple, kneeling at your warm altar. You welcome your sweet sinner with warmth, and receive his every loving devotion with praises that even the Heavens' highest Seraphim would covet. He needs this. You. He needs you.

When he's pleased with how you feel on his tongue, he dips back in, chasing your high with long, slow strokes first, before speeding his tongue between your folds. Meanwhile, his hand has never pulled away, his thumb continuing to move across your clit with a perfectly steady pace, each circling ministration causing your hips to move round too, as you find yourself needier, your eyes hazing over, rolling back.

He loosens his grip on your stomach, both hands on the outside of your thighs now, holding him up to your face like a meal of sorts. Like you were his sacrament, cleansing his soul, his sins. His sweet, stunning angel, subject to his loving devotion. As he holds your hips up, you can't help but to roll them into his face more, aiding his tongue as it swipes between your folds up to your clit, and back down again. Your breathing becomes more and more erratic, as he moans sweet passages into your folds, soft, gentle - unlike the Logan everyone else knew.

The humming vibrations of his voice through your walls shiver up and down your body, as you jolt up, finally snapping and releasing over him, his sworn fealty, the vassal to his dear angel, finally paying off as you reward his prayers, grasping at his hair with your fingers, tangling into the strands as you tug gently.

Yet he does not stop.

No, instead he lowers himself further, lined up just perfect to explore past your folds, holding your thighs open again as his tongue explores you. Of course, it doesn't go quite as far as you'd like, but it's still enough for you to cry out his name, begging for his mercy as he only chuckles, taking his fill before finally pulling away.

Oh?

Oh.

What a sight. Logan Howlett. The Wolverine. Your sweet partner. Coated, in your slick, licking his lips like an animal, sweat dripping down his chest (which, actually. Might also be mixed with your slick. The thought only gets you hotter), as he brushes his hair back again, shaking his head and sighing as he slows his breathing back to normal. You do the same, your more unstable pants becoming slow sighs, the sweetest sounds tumbling out from your throat.

It's then when you realise it, as your eyes trail lovingly over him. His jeans, soaked, in one particular spot. It was bound to happen, given how well he took care of you, but that doesn't change the way you softly giggle at him, tugging at his jeans, undoing his belt, button and zipper for him. Nor does it change the smile on his face, as you switch places, with him over the edge of the bed, and you kneeling below, between his legs tugging the jeans down lower and lower, pulling them off before you attend to him. He leans back, grabbing a pillow for your knees, and kissing you, which only drives you even more insane, given how you can taste yourself on his tongue, over his mouth. When you finally pull away, his eyes, filled with.. well, love never fail to make your stomach flip, nor your heart skip.

Your hands palm over him, teasing him through his boxers as he hooks a hand under your chin, lifting your head up,

"C'mon, gorgeous. Ya know what I need, hmm?"

"…Fine… Only 'cause I love ya.."

"Hmm, whatever would I do without ya?"

He lifts up slightly, letting you pull his boxers all the way down, tossing them aside before taking in just how big, how thick and dripping he was, all for you. His cock twitched as you licked your lips, striping one long, languid lick up, teasing the bulging vein on the left as he twitched again, throwing his head back. As your lips finally settle on his tip, you push down slowly, sucking slow and gentle first, each stroke deepening and taking more and more of him as you go on. His hands quickly find your hair, rooting himself to you as you take him, each inch filling your mouth, your throat just perfectly.

One hand drops low, fondling his aching balls, giving them much needed and desired attention as your mouth works so sweetly around, up and down his cock. In between, you hum on him, and physically feel him tense beneath you, gripping your hair tighter, pulling your head further down on him.

Unfortunately for him, he can't quite savour this the way he had just savoured you, given how close he already was, barely holding back from thrusting up into your mouth as he cums, quick, hot and fast, loads dumping down your mouth, your throat. You diligently swallow each and every drop, your eyes glassing over slightly as you pull your tongue up, swirling it round his tip and the end and pulling away with a kiss, and a string of cum and saliva, dribbling down your neck and settling over your tits.

His arms reach beneath you, pulling you into his lap, words no longer necessary as you spread your legs, letting him hold you open as you push yourself down on him, your walls quickly wrapping round him. He moves his hands up and around your back, gripping onto your soft flesh as you finally fit all of him in you, pausing to just.. feel him, there.

You clench slightly, his cock sure to leave an imprint over your walls, forming and shaping itself around him and his thickness. All the while, he's trying to memorise each and every miniscule measurement of your flesh - fuck knows when the next time'll be, in this line of work. When you're both finally ready, you tap his cheek twice, and he taps your.. other cheek twice. An old tradition of yours, everlasting through the years as he slowly helps you lift yourself up off him, and lower back down onto him, his hips meeting you in the middle.

His mouth finds your collarbone again, sucking the opposite side this time, eager to leave a matching mark on you. For what is he, if not an attentive, loving partner? And how would his sweet angel go without jewellery like that? He sucks as your hand finds his hair, tousling through the locks as you rest your head on his, still bouncing gently on him as one hand cups your cheek, helping you move up and down, and the other wraps round your waist.

As he lifts his head, he smiles, before pressing his lips to your ear,

"Wanna lemme fuck ya good now? Fuck you silly, pretty girl, wanna get dumb on this dick?"

And holy shit, did his voice trail down your spine, settling in your stomach as the familiar pool of heat recollected itself, preparing for the waves that'd inevitably crash over you. Words are lost upon you, with you resorting to nods and whines as he flips you over, laying you down, lifting your legs up and pressing them against you, kissing the tops of your knees as he slowly thrusts into you, savouring the moment once more.

"F-fuck… pretty pussy.. all f'me, huh?"

Oh, how you wish your voice wouldn't fail you in such moments, dying down into whines and moans as he filled you so perfectly, one hand above you, holding the headboard as the other hand lowered to your clit again. He pauses briefly, only to lower a dribble of spit from his mouth down over your clit, the harsh cold of his spit hitting your warm soft clit. You almost buckle up into him, the feeling tightening in your stomach again.

So you focus on the room around you, instead.

The gentle light from the lamp, bouncing round the room, and off your bodies, joined in perfect harmony. You can see each and every drop of sweat dribbling down his chest now, perfectly dropping over each nipple and falling onto your ribs. Your hands reach out to him as he quickens his pace, lowering his body closer to yours, letting your hands roam over his chest, squeezing him in between.

Each squeeze earns a sweet moan, a groan and a quicker thrust, and before long, you can feel yourself snap again, releasing as you buckle forwards into him. He catches you (he always will), pulling you back into his lap as he works you through your comedown, close to his own release as you clench your walls around him.

And the feeling of you clenching? Fucking. Divine. He could die here, a happy man, as you tighten round him, your nails digging into his back and dragging as you feel him pushing your walls open, his tip only bullying up into you. He's close - he knows that, you know that, and he's very aware that you know that, holding you as close as he can as he paints your walls, thick layers coating you, dribbling out over him. He's slowing down slightly, just enough for the two of you to catch your breath, kissing your neck, your chest, your nipples as he pauses to pay attention to them, mouth wrapping round one and clamping down, sucking harsh and needy as he rocks himself up into you. Your hands, having faltered round his back, tense up again, clawing into him, leaving red lines, your nails acting as your paintbrush, and his body his canvas as you drag along him, anchoring yourself. He pulls away from the one nipple, his teeth grazing over it as he switches to the other nipple, equalling the attention given.

How on earth he still manages to fuck you throughout all this, you have no idea, the only remaining thought in your brain being how fucking good he feels, how much of him you can feel in you, filling you up yet again, as your second release only comes quicker, your body lifting to meet his. He finally presses kisses to your neck, up to your ear, before doing that thing. You know, the one that only drives you insane? Where he whispers in your ear, teasing your skin with the softest whispers, breath fanning down your skin as he-

"-C'mon baby girl, pull me one more, hmm? One more, f'me, y'got it in ya, angel.."

"Gonna fuck a baby into this gorgeous pussy, yeah? Make y'mine, all mine pretty thing.."

"…Fuck.. fuuuuck.. y'so pretty under me.. jus' like that, yeah.."

On the other hand, you can barely get a sentence out, begging for him with your sweet pants, moans and gasps. The heat finally begins coiling again to his words, as he guides you through your high, as through he physically reaches in, twisting your heat round in his hands himself for you. It's not surprise then, that when you finally cum, your body convulses into his, sweet tears of love dripping over his neck, your nails finally dropping from his back. You look up into the mirror, your eyes trailing his body in the reflection, proof of your masterpiece covering him, marks of red, blooming across his body, trails streaking down as crimson droplets dribble down his skin.

The sight only makes you groan in more need, your hands pawing at him again, your honey dripped voice begging for more,

"Think y'can handle one more f'me, angel?"

His words stir your stomach yet again, as you nod your head, still dizzy from your release. He chuckles and nods into your neck, his voice rumbling through your skin,

"Lemme finish here first, hmm? Then we'll get one more from ya."

When he finally releases again, it's somehow even more dizzying than the first time, filling areas and gaps you didn't even think you had. He presses down on your stomach, forcing you to feel exactly where he is as he coats you in his thick, ropey cum. He nuzzles into your neck, fluttering kisses across your collarbone as he manhandles your very pliant, limp body with care, yes, but need too. When he finished, moaning into your ear, he slowly pulls out as you hiss, his hand still pressed down on your stomach, before very quickly flipping you over, down into the pillow.

"C'mon baby, one more, yeah?"

You only hum in agreement, as he chuckles back, spreading you open for him and slowly pushing into you again. His hand reaches round your front, rubbing your aching clit as you cry out, your sweetened whining and gasping becoming uncontrolled moans and groans, noises you don't even recognise reacting to him.

And the new position only angles him better in you, somehow reaching deeper, and better than before. You can feel him everywhere, all over you, as one hand wraps around your throat gently. Never tightening, just present, on you. Staking his claim over you, as you push you hips back against him, arching your back into him. He lowers your face into the pillow, his head just barely above your ear, not even speaking full sentences anymore, just moaning into your ear everytime his heat climbs another high. Not that you're any better, moaning, crying into the pillow, his relentlessness overstimulating you.

His hand on your clit speeds up, borderline bullying at this point as you sob into the pillow, feeling him oush your over the edge as you cum again, releasing with a gush, crying out as you lift your head. He presses kisses to the back of your shoulder, feeling you cum over him, and pulls out slowly again. You hiss and whine at the loss, your walls aching and begging for him to return already.

He flips you over one last time, trapping you under his thighs as he strokes himself languidly over your body. You blink and bat your eyelashes, gulping as your eyes finally settle, less blearly, less teary and staring back up at him, whining needily as he quickens his pace. You can see the smallest, tiniest amount of white coating his tip, as his cum finally paints over you, ropes dragging over your nipples, down your ribcage, thick and hot as you shudder from the weight of each thick load, coating your bare form. He leans down to kiss your bruised lips, pretty as he bites your lower lip. You whine again, arms reaching out for him, and he pushes them back down, leaning back only to admire his work. His art, his magnum opus. Your face, coated in sweat, dribbled saliva and cum, coated in him, in his reminders, his love, his devotion. His bites and bruises, patterns blooming across your body as sweet ropes of jewellery, that he of course would always adorn you with.

The two of you remain like that for a bit, before he finally runs you both a bath, scooping you into his arms and holding you gently, as though you'd break if he were to apply the lightest pressure to you, in any way shape or form. You let him clean you up, practically falling asleep in his arms as he takes care of you, only waking back up when he nudges you for water, and then laying back to sleep, in his sweet embrace.

The rest of the weekend goes by in a blur, between the two of you and your long walks, through the snowy forests, and by the lake, warm home cooked meals and watching shitty reality tv shows, cuddles up on the couch as yet another season of Below Deck comes to an end. On the Sunday, he bundles you back into the truck, and the two of you mentally groan at the idea of having to teach yet again, the weekend of rest only making you want more. Still, it doesn't change the excitement of coming back, seeing everyone after a long, restful weekend away.

Nor does it change the excitement of everyone else, as you walk around, your decorated collarbone on full display as Logan leads you back to your room, eager to rest the Sunday evening away. Students and teachers alike, giggle, sigh and roll their eyes, either fawning over your love, cursing themselves and their inabilities to 'find true love' (just ask her already, kid!) or awkwardly shoving their heads into books, barely peeking over (little voyeurs~).

Professor X finds you both, as you're about to enter your room, and gives a.. knowing glance, raising his eyebrows with a smile,

"Restful weekend, hmm?"

Ahh, winter. Winter break truly was the one holiday you looked forward to. Between the crisp crunchy snow beneath your boots, the warm candlelights lit around town and the general warmth of Winter, you found yourself absolutely enamored.

Especially since… well, you know. You finally have time and space where you're not surrounded by mutant children, rushing around as you attempt to create a level of peace. In fact, the only person you are… surrounded by is a certain spiky haired, gruff and grumpy mutant, as he bundles you up to your shared cabin.

There's something sweet about how he carries you inside, kicking the door shut behind him and immediately shuffling to the couch - where he promptly drops you, smirking as you squeal and flail,

"Lo! How dare you!"

"Aww, baby! Where's ya Christmas cheer, huh?"

"….Christmas cheer is NOT dropping your girlfriend on the couch!"

He only chuckles as he walks away, preparing the hot chocolate you are bound to ask for soon enough as you sigh, flicking through tv channels. What had initially started as a desperate respite from the woes of teaching had quickly become a tradition over the years. This cabin held memories - your first time together, aggressively marking papers together as you sped through them in an attempt to maximise what little time you'd have alone together and so on so forth. In fact - you couldn't really imagine your relationship without the cabi-

"Walk. Now."

"Now?"

"Now."

"But Looooooooo-"

"No 'Looooo!" - get up! The snow's out, the sun sets soon and if ya don't get out there now, you're gonna do my head in tomorrow mornin'. C'mon, sweets, let's go."

Despite it paining you to admit it, he did have a point.

Which is how you now found yourself, trudging through the snow as you clung on to his arm. Each breath you took in felt new - fresh, as the cold air swam through your lungs. Each tree you passed carried the soft, nutty scent of the Earth - renewing you with every step you took. Here and there, you'd pause (or rather, Logan would clear his throat and you'd pause to take in the view around you), pulling your phone out and taking as many pictures as possible.

Where he used to roll his eyes irritably, Logan now finds himself smiling as he watches you. There's something sweet about how you find joy in every little thing, even in the cold, awful snow that freezes your feet below. Or in the painfully icy breeze that hits your throat, stiffening your arms and legs as he practically drags you back into the cabin.

As the two of you, he pushes you against the door, lips immediately finding your neck as they pepper down your skin. He only pulls away for a moment, just to whisper against your skin,

"It's jus' you and me baby… gotta keep ya warm somehow now, don't I?"

You can't help the gasp that tumbles out of your mouth, especially when he continues to attack your neck so lovingly. So needy, as his lips latch on to you, sucking and tugging at your skin. His hands find your back, lowering around the curve of your ass as he pulls your legs up around his waist - walking the two of you to your shared bedroom and lowering you into the bed that already sits prepared. Waiting for the two of you.

It's only when he leans back away from you to remove his sweater that you take a moment to look around you. Candles and flowers, all around the room. Logan really did put in the time for this year's trip. Your eyes lie on the aftercare basket he already has prepared and ready for you - when did he get the time to do all this? The warm, hazy glow from the candles only looks better when your eyes finally find him.

And dear Gods, does he look good. Your eyes trail down his body - warm and flushed under the light, small droplets of sweat dribbling down as you subconciously bite your lip. You lift your body off the bed, inching towards him and tugging him forwards as your hands find his hips. From there, they slowly move up and around - exploring him as your head tips over onto his shoulder. The sigh that escapes you has you leaning further into him, as his hands find you too. Holding you close as he pushes the two of you back down onto the bed,

"C'mere pretty girl.. wanna hear those pretty noises - think ya can do that f'me?"

You can only nod in response.

His lips find your neck again, sucking sweetly and leaving marks behind each and every loving spot of your skin. As promised, each mark pulls another sweet noise from your throat - hitched gasps And when he's satisfied, he pulls back just enough to appreciate his work. His works of art, each mark and bite he leaves across your skin, patterns glowing warm under the soft candle light. The harsh contrast between the warmth of his love, blooming across your body as heat pools in your lower stomach and the powdery, cold snow trickling down outside in the cold Winter night is not lost on you.

In fact, it's only made sweeter when he nuzzles into your neck, kisses slowing as his body's weight presses comfortably against yours. He only pauses to whisper quietly into your skin, sure that you wouldn't hear him.

Of course, he's wrong, and your heart swells when you hear his sweetened words murmured against you,

"Missed this, pretty girl. Missed you."

And so, where the rest of the world got mean, grumpy man Wolverine - with his sharpened claws and even sharper tongue - you got sweet, gentle Logan. Pretty boy Logan, who takes his time kissing and loving on you, slowly moving down your body with a love that's so saccharine sweet it almost hurts. Beautiful, gorgeous Logan, who finds his rest and comfort with his head tangled between your thighs, hair tousled by your wandering hands as he slowly licks a stripe up and across your folds - relishing in the pretty noises you make as you arch your back off the bed.

He can't help but to go slow on you - especially when your sweet hymns hit his sinful ears, warping around him as he continues to work diligently at your aching clit. And you can't hold yourself back - thighs clenched around his head as he laps away each sweetened drop of ambrosia that trickles down your folds.

For he is naught more than a sinner, begging and praying mercy as he takes sacrament at your sweet altar.

Each lick and swipe is accompanied by you and your gasps and moans as you find yourself climbing higher and higher on him, rolling yourself over his face as he relishes in your slick dripping over his face. When you finally release, it's practically a waterfall, flowing over him as he continues to lick and lap at you.

He's not quite done with his meal, not until he's savoured each and every drop.

So even as you lie there, writhing in pleasure, he continues to work his tongue over you. Even when you whine (to which he only hums back, rolling circles into your thighs with his thumbs). When he's finally satisfied, he lifts himself up, making eye contact with you as he wipes the remnants of your slick from his face with his arm - before pressing his lips against your forehead,

"Lo…"

"I know. Too damn cold, huh?"

"Mmmm…"

"Lemme clean ya up, be in bed with ya soon, 'kay?"

You can only hum in response, as he chuckles and kisses your forehead again. You whine again as he walks away, only to come back with a warm, wet cloth and slowly wipe you down. When he finishes cleaning you up, he presses one last kiss to the skin just above your clit, before finally joining you - wrapping his arms around you as you re-adjust yourself around him. He can't hold back the smile on his face, as the two of you drift off into a quiet slumber, warm and loving in the dead of a cold, Winter night.

Maybe the Winter holidays weren't so bad.

merry roe-mas ❅.ೃ࿔

we've done subby steve. breeding kink steve? wax steve. ice steve. and there was another. i know what to do next.

so. remember last time, with subby steve? when we tied him up with our panties, made sure he wouldn't move? yeah, yeah! you noticed... he liked that a little too much.

which gets you thinking...

...and a few google searches later, you find yourself with a box of rope.

okay so, steve's been having a rough time. awh, poor baby :( and he just needs someone to.. well, take care of him, of course! so of course he eagerly follows you back to your shared bedroom, and doesn't blink an eye when your lips immediately crash against his.

it's messy, and rushed and oh, so rough as you push him against the door first. his hands roam around you, and your own keep him held against the door as your lips attack his, before finding his neck. sucking on his sweet spot as he groans and rolls his head back, into the door behind him. god, it feels so good, he could cum here and no-

except you pull back, walking towards the bed,

"over here, pretty boy~ c'mere stevie - gotta get ya all tied up and pretty f'me, yeah~"

and for a moment he's confused, and lost, because what do you mean?

"call it an early christmas, baby~"

he can't deny the way his cock twitches in his pants - suddenly uncomfortably tight around him, as you beckon him over with one finger curled. and naturally, he follows, sitting where you tell him to sit, and following each and every instruction you give him.

which is how he finds himself naked, tied up to the bed. each wrist tied back to a bedpost, as you lean back to marvel at your work.

and holy shit, does he look good. entirely naked, but for the pretty patterns your red ropes leave across his skin. each rope tugs slightly against him already, and you can only imagine how much prettier he'd look when you actually start.

still, you're not so horrible that you'll leave him waiting. not when his pretty cock twitches like that, beads of cum already collecting at the tip, rolling down the side as he whines.

yes, whines.

and the whines hit your ears as you slowly strip. each and every article of clothing hitting the floor as he waits patiently. so agonising, yet patiently he waits.

because steve rogers, is a good, good b-

"such a good boy f'me~"

he whines again, as your colder hands touch his chest - nails dragging up and down as your hips slowly sink down over him. you gasp and moan, and he groans - all at the same time.

it's so, so good, and he should feel so bad, tied up like this. he should hate it - so why is it, then, that he feels nothing but sheer pleasure, rippling through his body as he attempts to rolls his hips up into you...

...only for you to stop, tut and shaking your head,

"steve... baby, i need you to be good f'me, yeah? ya gotta be patient, baby... can't rush this, okay?"

and he's nodding and whining again, because he really, truly is at your whim. at your whim, wrapped around your finger and under your control as you roll your hips up and down his cock, slowly and painfully.

you press your body closer to his, and can practically hear his eyes rolling back as your hips move up and down.

each slowed roll is accompanied by that slow, lewd squelch, that only takes him higher and higher. it's wet, sinful and unholy - but he craves it. needs it, for no drug is quite as addicting, as the drug that is you.

each roll has him throwing his head back onto the headboard, as your lips move closer to his ears, muttering soft yet sinfully delectable words. he can't hear you, through his own deafening pleasure, so he misses how you tease him,

"so wet, from just this? oh, stevie... sweet, sweet, stevie... what would america say, hmm?"

however, he doesn't miss when you... well, i'll let you say it, hmm?

"america's sweet golden boy, all tied up and pretty, huh? ain't that a sight for sore eyes.."

your sweetened sing song tone only has him (somehow) harder, as he moans loudly, entirely unrestrained. you decide that... perhaps he has suffered enough. perhaps you will be kinder to him. you roll your hips faster and faster, working harder towards both your and his release.

soon enough, the only sounds bouncing around the room are the continuous rhythms of skin meeting skin, the loud and sinful squelches of slick gathering between you, your gentler moans and his deeper groans.

he takes the time to actually... savour it? it's nice, not having to do all the work. where everyone else expects big, strong captain america, here he can be just... well, steve! your steve, all yours as you take care of him.

you don't miss how he enjoys it, cooing back at him as your hands pull his face towards yours lovingly,

"oh, my sweet, sweet steve.. all mine, always.."

he only hums in response - already so fucked out and drunk on how good you feel. you can't help but to giggle, quickening your pace as you feel him getting oh, so close - so close!

he can't help it - the ropes, pulling against his skin. your words, wrapping though his brain. the way you felt, wrapped around his cock, bouncing so perfectly up and down him - of course he was gonna cum!

you feel him, thick and hot as he cums hot and fast - his body writhing against the rope as he whines into your ear,

"p-please, pretty gir- f-fuck! m'so good for you-!"

"so good f'me~"

"fuck-!"

he allows himself (or do you allow him?) to thrust up - quick and sharp as he finishes, which only leads to you releasing too, walls tightening around him as you pull his body closer to you. you moan and cry out and he rests his head on your shoulder. somewhat unintentionally, then, your fingers find his hair, slowly stroking through it as you work on your comedown.

it's sweet. strangely sweet, given that he is still so tied up in you. as you lift yourself off him, you can't help but hiss, before quickly untying each and every rope,

"oh, my sweet pretty baby.. lie down, i'll take care of you."

each and every mark is soothed with a kiss pressed against his skin. he only hums contentedly in response, letting you take care of him.

letting you love him.

in the end, you tangle yourself against him in bed again, legs wrapped around his as he tugs you closer to him. your head rests on his chest as the two of you drift off to sleep...

operation sub your steve? success!

xoxo, roe~

i would like to formally preface this by saying i am not into steve rogers, actually. i enjoy whiny chris evans. i am just not into steve rogers. i do enjoy providing aluri with a good time though, so here i am, for you.

it's been a long time since you and steve tried anything new. last time was wax play, and that went surprisingly well. however since then, things have been fairly tame, to be honest.

at least until today, because doesn't he look so.. delectable, sweat dripping from his oh, so perfect arms as he comes home from his run. does he not look so perfect, as his muscles flex with every move.

you find yourself lost - mesmerised, even - by... well, him!

you can't quite help but to think - what if you licked him? dragged your tongue along his body? how would that feel? would he like it? would you like it?

only one way to find out.

you follow him upstairs into your shared room, hands quickly finding your waist as he immediately spins round to pin you against the door. what he doesn't expect is to be the one pinned against the door, as your lust filled eyes rake over his body, taking him in,

"shhh, shhh.. be a good boy f'me, yeah stevie?"

he's swallowing back a whimper and you're batting your eyes up so sweetly at him - how can he say no? so he's nodding now, as your tongue immediately find the side of his neck, swirling in circles before your teeth graze his skin. as they nip at his skin, you moan into his touch - his hands quickly finding your waist, grounding him,

"p-please, baby-"

"what is it, stevie? want more?"

"god, yes-!"

you pull away only to strip him of his shirt, and then to strip yourself of your own, revealing your pretty lacy black lingerie. one of his hands attempts to lower itself to his cock - anything to reveal the quickly tightening ache - but you catch him, tutting in response,

"tsk, tsk! now, now, steve... gotta be patient f'me, yeah? be a good boy and i'll let you cum, 'kay?"

he can only nod - poor thing!

your tongue resumes itself on his neck, slowly dragging down as you tug the conveniently place chair nearby - guiding him towards it. for a moment you consider painfully riding him, edging him until he begs to cum - perhaps another day. for now, you settle yourself between his legs, and your tongue happily glides along his skin - resting above his chest.

you look back up at him, and - dear oh dear me! the man is gone already!

if he's this gone now, however will he manage later on?

im about to live up to my titty sucking fame, because yes! your tongue finds his nipple, swirling round as he moans and groans - practically putty under your careful tongue. before long, your lips have wrapped around it, sucking and teasing him.

unlike past.. experiences, though, you do not offer the other side of his chest comfort (cumfort. haha.). not for quite some time, at least.

when you are pleased with your careful attention to one nipple, you pull away to play with the other, and it's then that steve attempts to make eye contact with you. only to very quickly find out that he is terrible at this - unable to keep his head forward as you send waves of pleasure crashing through his body.

you may look and act like an angel - but elvis really was onto something! the devil in disguise, huh?

meanwhile, you're dragging your tongue lower and lower, sinking into your knees as you find exactly what you look for. you skillfully remove his belt and pants, cooing at the tent he's pitched himself in his boxers,

"awh, steve... baby... f'me?"

"all for you, always for you.."

as you giggle he sighs, and you finally offer him some relief in the form of your fingers and palm, pressing against him - still clothed. still restricted. yet you pull back when you know he's so, so close! he's so close to cumming, just from your palm, and he can't hold back the moans - not when you tease him like this!

you tease. you absolute tease!

you feel bad for a moment. just the one! but then you remember - how pretty would he look with tears streaming down his face? what would he do when you licked them off, kissing each one as you finally relieved him of his pain?

perhaps you really could have the best of both worlds here...

a small smile makes its way onto your face as you look back up to him, voice softer than ever,

"steve, baby? gonna need you to be real good f'me, yeah? can ya do that, baby? f'me? pretty please, pretty boy?"

and he's nodding and whining, unable to think.

you're giggling again, and he's mentally locking away the sound to sinfully jerk off to, when he's all alone next week. but for now? for now he's making the most of what he has, as he has you.

you run your hands up and down his cock, practically wrapping your fingers around his still clothed length, teasing him through and through until he's just about to cum - yet each time he comes anywhere near to it, you pull away. the first time you walk away, ignoring his protests. the second time, you sit back on the floor, smirking up at him as he begs - yes, begs! the third time is the worst, as you stand up and sit on him. he immediately tries to relieve his aching balls - hands flying to your hips, except you swat them away,

"steve..."

"please baby, please! i'll do anything, anything!"

your heart breaks for a moment, until you realise that yes! you can hear a sob in his voice! you whip round and see those sweet, dewy, crystalline tears you sought out all along!

there they are, dribbling down his face as he splutters out his pleading and begging. you lick your lips as you press small kisses up his neck, moaning when his salty tears touch your soft lips.

finally, you let him pull your own panties down, rocking yourself over his tightened, soaked bulge,

"can i..?"

"no. let me, steve."

he sighs, but lets you pull his boxers down, groaning and throwing his head back when his angry, leaking cock is finally freed to the world (or, to the air between you and him. much less the world, but still!)

a thought presses itself against your brain, and you tug your panties up off the floor, pulling his hands behind him - behind the back of the chair - and tying them back,

"shh, shh, baby - it's for your own good, okay? it'll feel better this way.."

"f-fuck.."

"you wanna cum f'me, don't ya?"

"y-yeah... fuck, baby, i can't-!"

"shhh, yes you can, so good f'me, steve.."

he can't pull any coherent thoughts together - not when your hips slam down onto him, filling you entirely as your back instantly arches. and he wants to wrap his hands around you - he really does! but he's a good, good boy, and follows orders well, even when all he wants is to feel you in his arms as he slams up into you.

instead, he's met with an equally mind-numbing experience - you, slamming your hips up and down on him, rolling and riding your hips up achingly slowly before you slam back down with such need and force, that he cant help but to sit in awe of you.

that is, when he can comprehend even being in awe of you. for the most part, steve's brain is entirely mush. entirely fuzzy, as all he thinks about is how perfect you feel. you and your walls, practically moulded around his cock, welcoming him in each time as they wrap around him. the way they suck him in, holding him in you as the two of you moan and cry out in pure pleasure and ecstasy.

he can feel the two of you getting closer and closer, as you move quicker and less controlled now, your hips rolling more than they did before. you're much more needy now, your once controlled and put together voice replaced by pretty moans and whines that he can only praise whatever powers may be for blessing him with,

"f-fuck, steve! gonna need you to cum quick f'me, baby, please?"

"close, close, m'close, pretty girl-!"

"y-yeahhhh.. that's it, steve, cum f'me.."

as if on command, he does exactly that. spurts and ropes of cum fill your walls as your own release joins his, clenching around him. the two of you slow your movements, with you finally pressing your body against his, peppering kisses along his neck as he fills you.

words evade the two of you, as you sit quietly panting, your foreheads pressed against one another. one hand of yours finds his cheek, caressing him softly as the other finally unties him - letting him wrap his arms around you, holding you there - on him. as he does, you can feel the two of you shifting around. cum shifting and squelching in and out of you. the feeling has you whining for more, but it's been a long day.

finally, he lifts the two of you, carrying you into your shared bed. still buried deep in you, he holds you close as you catch your breath to coo back at him once more,

"so good f'me, pretty boy..."

...before promptly falling asleep. you miss how his cock immediately hardens, and his mind wanders back to conversations regarding... sleep... and free use...

dear oh dear me!

steve g. rogers was whipped. absolutely, utterly,

whipped.

okay steve is. steve has been experimenting a little with you, remember? you did the ice cubes, you did the wax, and both had very good results. however, it's been a while, and you're both thinking about.. something new.

but something that's maybe not so out there? something that you don't have to go out of your way for.

and that's when it occurs to him. the image of you, kneeling in front of him as a thick drop of spit lowers from his lips?

oh dear. steve's pulling you into your shared bedroom VERY quickly, locking the door behind you and pushing you against the door as rough kisses immediately find your neck, sucking and tugging at your skin as each kiss leaves behind marks across your collarbone. all whilst you writhe under his touch, gripping onto him as your back arches up off the door. his hands, wrapped round your waist, hold you in place, keeping you against the door as he continues to attack your neck with need

your hands lower down his back, helping him pull his shirt off as they roam over his skin, palming his arms, his biceps his shoulders as he rips your own dress off, chucking it away somewhere, leaving you in thin lingerie.

he pulls you by the waist, his lips finding the sweet spot in your neck as he continues his relentless attack on you, not quite having had his fill of you.

on the other hand… your brain seems to be… connected to his, as you push him back slightly. just enough for you to lower yourself to your knees, knelt on the hardwood floor below (insert hard wood joke here.). you look up at him through your eyelashes, batting your eyes as you swiftly unloop his belt, tugging his belt off and pants down. he sighs in relief, the tightness of his jeans finally gone.

yet his relief only lasts so long, as you drag one of your nails across his still clothed member, giggling as he jerks forwards, barely mumbling,

"quit teasin', princess.."

you're still looking up innocently, tugging his boxers down as you bite your lower lip, hands lingering at his thighs before your eyes finally look down at him.

hungry eyes, you could call em, drinking in each inch of his length far below your lips even find him. speaking of, your tongue immediately darts out, wetting your lips.

you don't need to spit. not when he's got that much precum over his head. but there's something so right about the thin string that threads across from your mouth to his cock as you spit onto him, your hand wrapping round his cock and pumping slowly.

he almost immediately throws his head back, one hand finding your hair, gripping to just keep him in place as you work over his cock, a wide smile on your face when you see him holding back moans,

"aww baby.. holdin' back on me?"

right as you say that, you squeeze your hand round, pumping harder, causing an entirely unrestrained moan to immediately groan out of his throat as you giggle again, slowing your hand around him.

he looks down and whines from your loss - until your tongue licks a slow stripe up his cock, swirling round the head before you wrap your mouth around him, slowly bobbing your head along him.

always maintaining eye contact. especially as you speed up, feeling him rut into your mouth.

"f-fuck, baby you're so good f'me.."

you only hum in response.

and he almost fucking cums, then and there, the hum rumbling through his body as he continues thrusting into your mouth, his own mouth parted in a perpetual moan.

he's edging closer and closer, and you can feel it, his thrusts sloppier, his hold on your hair looser before it tightens as he attempts to hold some sort of focus in the act.

all whilst you kneel there, still working him with patience, humming here and there as you tease him along. your eyes never leave his, not when he looks like THAT.

like what you say?

yours. wholly and fully yours, practically under your control, in full need of you and you alone. especially when you feel him cum, ropes painting your throat as you attempt to take all of it,

"g-good.. yeah, take it a-all, fuck, fuck, fuuuuuck!"

you're still humming in response, diligently swallowing down each and every drop of him.

and when he pulls away, he nods down, a gesture you respond to by holding your tongue out for him, the clear evidence of your obscene act together painted over.

he can't help but to let a droplet of spit lower down from his mouth, not when you look so good like that. and it strings down too, thinning as it hits your tongue. you continue keeping your doe'd eyes on him as you eagerly swallow his spit down, humming in appreciation as his hands finally loosen in your hair again, lowered to your shoulders before he scoops you up in his arms,

"good?"

"good."