Domestic Old!ManLogan And Laura

— Bedtime Story Masterlist

bad batch x gn!reader (platonic), hunter x reader, jedi!reader

this is a multi-chapter fic

warnings: mentions of order 66, war (it’s star wars…), violence, loss of a mentor, injury (to reader and others)

notes: there are many original aspects to this fic, such as the names of planets, reader’s master, and their venator. some force methods in this story are original too. theory on lightsaber colors, some drawn from legends.

summary: the bad batch tells omega the story of the reader (through the memories of the reader)

A/N: i’ve been working on this idea for a few weeks now & it’s my first multi-chapter fic for tbb! there is not a set update schedule for this fic. if you would like to be tagged in this fic, fill out this form!

Prologue

Chapter 1 - Unorthodox

Chapter 2 - Attachment

Chapter 3 - Favorite Clones

Chapter 4 - Safe

Chapter 5 - Return to Coruscant

Chapter 6 - Reunited

Chapter 7 - Result of Anaxes

Chapter 8 - TBA

Chapter 9 - TBA

Chapter 10 - TBA

Chapter 11 - TBA

Main Masterlist

Sometimes a family is a Survey Corps captain, a professor, an amnesiac warden and the danger-prone child, who also has no memory and fell from the sky.

Companion piece to this

Bongos (but male) | Logan Howlett X [Dilf] Reader

What Logan wouldn't give to have that damn DILF bent over...

  Quick Notes :  Thank you to our savior @/dorkszn for their glorious Dilf! Reader drabbles! The idea of a Dilf! Reader came directly from their posts, so be sure to give them a follow! Obviously this work is in no way related to their own, and is my own version of Logan and a Dilf! Reader. Please enjoy.

  Story Details :  1,300 words, Dilf! Reader referred to as ‘You/Your,’ Reader has twins, Readers children are animal mutants (bear), Readers children are named ‘Jett’ and ‘Hogan,’ Reader is divorced, Reader is about forty to forty-five, Reader is lightly implied to be a mutant, Reader is described as ‘having stubble,’ Logan is whipped for Reader, Logan ogles reader, and finally, sexual implications in almost everything Logan thinks

 Though, even he could admit a few of the kids stood out; there was a little red-head, about eight or so, whose mutation was a pair of wings (though they had only started growing in a few years earlier), and a teenage boy who frequently turned invisible to get away with stealing cigarettes (he never did, and Logan was the one to drag him to the professor's office). 

Despite working at the school for a few months, Logan was not fond of children. They were loud, frequently interrupted his smoke breaks, and often had mutations that they had little to no control over. In short, it was his personal hell. He only took the job because Chuck had asked him, and as much as he hated to admit it, he owed the man something (even if this job made him want to rip his hair out). 

  A gruff sigh left the older mutant, who fiddled with the cigar between his teeth as he leaned back against the wall of the hallway. It was getting dark, most students in their rooms and preparing for bed. Except, Logan could smell a few brats out and about, their scent making his nose twitch in disgust; they smelled like shit - like mud and the forest.

  His gaze was drawn towards the end of the hall by the sound of giggles - clearly children - and the sound of a heavy sigh soon following. Before Logan could push off to investigate, he blinked in surprise when the source of the noise rounded the corner.

  A man - a man he’d never seen but immediately needed to get to know - was carrying two children, one under each arm; You. At the sight of him, you gave him a tired grin, the crows feet on your eyes crinkling as he felt his heart thump against his chest. The mutant didn’t care if he was staring - you were downright sexy. You wore a shirt with the sleeves up past your elbows and a set of slacks that seemed to accentuate every part of your frame. What Logan wouldn’t give to see you bent over a-

  “Nice night, ain’t it?” You called out, shaking Logan from his thoughts as he took an inhale from his cigar to clear his mind.

  “Could be better,”

  He retorted, his eyes drifting to the two squirming mutants in your arms. They looked like you to a tea, their eyes the same color as yours with a nose to match - the only part that was different were the set of rounded ears on the brats heads. Logan guessed bear, but cat might have been it, too. Both the kids groaned, wriggling around as one tried to hit your side,

  “Papa, ‘s not fair!” one whined, making your gaze turn downwards as you arched a brow, “Yeah, papa! You never let us out into the trees!” The other added quickly.

  Instead of replying right away, Logan watched as you hoisted the two higher into the air and did a small spin, making their complaining turn to squeals of laughter.

  “You two can’t go outside without me because you roll in the mud,” You stated lightheartedly, coming to a stop as you affectionately glared at the two children in your arms.

  He shifted his focus to the two mutants, raising an eyebrow as he finally noticed the clumps of mud, dirt, and leaves that clung to the two - definitely bear, then. It was then that Logan took a more obvious look at your face, his cigar sitting in his mouth for a moment as he analyzed every little detail; you had stubble, as though you hadn’t shaved in a few days, and eyes that held a clear fondness for the two kids in your arms. His eyes moved downward, glancing at your visible forearms - hairy, but not too much so, with some muscle obvious. Fuck, you were his type. 

 “You know where I can find a hose? Or a bathtub?”

  Your voice pulled him out of his ogling, his gaze returning to your face as he grunted, pulling the cigar out of his mouth and exhaling a cloud of smoke towards the ceiling.

  “Med bay has bathtubs, should work for the… mud,” 

  Logan knew how he came across - mean, gruff, an asshole - but you didn’t seem to pick up on it, simply giving him that same tired smile before nodding and glancing down at your kids.

  “Alright, med bay it is! Come on, twerps, bath then bed; I’ve got to get all this mud out of your hair and fur,” 

The sound of your chuckle, gruff with age, made a shiver run down the older mutants’ spine. 

  “You guys new here?” He found himself asking out of curiosity, leaning against the wall again as his eyes raked over your form, “Haven’t seen your kids in any of my classes.”

  You paused, shifting the two mutants under your arms before holding them up one at a time, 

  “This is Hogan.” You raised the child in your right arm, “and this is Jett,” you raised the child in your left arm.

  Both children groaned at being named, beginning to squirm once more as they let out soft bear vocalizations - Logan filed that under something he hadn’t expected, but wasn’t surprised by.

  “Cute kids,” he stated, taking a long drag of his cigar before his gaze dropped to your legs.

  He could’ve sworn he saw one of your pant legs moved at his complement, but he brushed the thought aside as his own imagination, slowly trailing his eyes back up to your face. If you noticed, you didn’t call him out on his staring, instead focusing your attention on your mutant bear cubs with a fond huff,

  “Thank you, really. I got custody after their mother divorced me.” You stated it so bluntly that it made Logan nearly drop his cigar, though he quickly recomposed himself as you continued, “They’re my little bear cubs, all fuzzy and cute.”

  He watched as you cooed down at your children, a slight smirk tugging at his lips; you loved them, that much was clear.

  “Are they the ones who’ve been raiding the school's fridge at night?” 

  He asked jokingly, watching as your expression turned sheepish.

  “That… Is likely my boys, yes,” You said after a moment, adjusting the two bear mutants in your arms before sighing and shaking your head, “They eat like crazy. It’s hard to keep them full without handing them a snack every thirty minutes.”

  Hogan seemed insulted at your words, his expression turning into a fierce pout as he crossed his arms and sulked,

  “Papa not feed us! We need more food!” Jett immediately knew what his twin was doing and copied the boys’ pose, “Yeah! More food! More food!”

  The two bear mutants descended into a chant of ‘more food,’ causing an amused smile to cross your face - Logan wanted to see more than just that. He wondered what you’d look like blushing…

  “Well, we can have a snack after you two take a bath,” 

You said fondly, rolling your eyes as you began to walk down the hall towards the med bay. Before you walked too far, however, Logan watched as you turned around,

  “Got a name, stranger?” 

  He blinked, his mouth suddenly dry as he focused entirely on your, ahem, assets, which looked downright amazing in those tight slacks. Pulling his gaze away, he grunted, taking a pull from his cigar to try and clear the thoughts running through his mind.

  “Logan; Logan Howlett,” 

  He answered gruffly, finally returning his eyes to you as he caught the friendly smile you sent his way.

  “Nice to meet you, Howlett. I figure we’ll be seeing you around,”

  With that, you turned and continued towards the med bay, adjusting and joking with the two pouting bear cubs in your arms.

  In that moment, Logan realized he wanted you right fucking now. Multiple times, in his bed preferably, with you calling out his name as he-

 A gruff and irritated sigh pulled itself free, the mutant glancing down before he adjusted himself and began to walk towards his room. He needed a shower. A cold one.

[OC X CANON APPRECIATION POST! 🩷✨]

REBLOG IF YOU LOVE AND SUPPORT OC X CANON!!

Four in the morning ( when you creep back into bed )

Pairing: Wolverine x Top Male Reader

Cw: 18+, fingering, anal sex, sub!wolverine, dom!male reader, fwb,

Thinking about Wolverine who’s always so impatient to wind down after a long day, calls you over to his place with someone else’s blood and guts still caked onto him.

He hasn’t even finished up the call when he’s stripping the clothes off of him, before pushing strong thighs up to his chest, spit slicked fingers working on loosening the tight ring of muscles, all while counting down how long it takes for you to get there, silently wondering if he should have someone else finish up the job instead.

By the time you arrive, he’s already driving three fingers up inside his tight wet hole, the muscles in his wrist flexing with how hard he’s going, angry red cock uselessly slapping against his stomach as he fucks himself down onto his fingers , all while frustrated noises roll off of his tongue because of course this isn’t enough to make him finish

The frustration only grows when he sees you standing motionless at the door, and he’s quick to tell you to hurry over and fuck him already, even huffing and puffing as he proceeds to turn over and present his ass for you because fuck does he have to do everything around here?

“come on come on come on” he rushes out, hand parting his cheeks to show you his hungry cunt, momentarily wondering if he should just tie you up and use you however he wants.

But just as the thought strikes his head he feels your cock brushing up against the furls of muscles, and a sigh of relief escaping his lips as you finally slide inside him.

Despite the amount of prep there’s a slight burn that comes with the stretch, muscles reflexively resistant as you sink further into him, but he happily welcomes it; toes curling, clawed nails threatening to poke hole in the sheets, as the pleasurable flames slowly but surely engulf him “mfp - ah fuck that’s it yes yes yes, took you ah took you long enough,”

He steadily takes you inch by inch till you’re buried to the hilt; ass flushed with your hips, pressed so close he can practically feel your heartbeat against his skin, even feels himself going lax in as if you’ve finally quenched the fire that’s burning inside of him.

“Couldn’t exactly teleport here now could I?”

Just as he’s about to retort with something sarcastic, you give an experimental roll of your hips cock head brushing up against the wall of nerves that knocks the wind out of him , desperately gasping for air when he demands “Fuck!, oh -oh need more come on, please!!”

“Easy there , going ah- to hurt yourself,” you splurt out , fingers digging into his hips as if to prevent yourself from ramming into the man.

Logan however couldn’t care less, uses his hips to push himself back down onto your length, body shuddering and groans escaping his lips as he starts fucking himself on your dick. “I’ll - ah - I’ll heal,”

That’s when he feels your fingers yank at his hair, pulling him back til his head is resting on your shoulder before driving up into him at a relentless pace, all while keeping a sturdy hand on his hip, turning and twisting his body as you please- as if he weighed nothing .

“This what you wanted huh?” You breathe into his ear while continuously slamming into his hungry cunt.

For a moment he’s unable to muster up a response, lost in the way you’re slamming your hips into him so hard it almost hurts, stretching his body in ways that makes him feel like he’s being split in half on your cock.

But the constant jabs to his prostate eventually coaxes the words right out of him “Yes! Yes! Yes! don’t stop fuck!” He gasps out feels himself already inching closer to his orgasm, and maybe he’d be embarrassed about it if he hadn’t been worked up for such a long time. All he can do now is keep a vice like grip on your cock fearing you’d be cruel enough to pull out when he’s so close to cumming

Fortunately for him you don’t do any of that, instead you continue ramming straight into him til the tension in his balls grow unbearable tight and he’s withering in your arms.

“Cum-cumming-“ is all he manages to blurt out, body tensing for a moment before spurting ropes of cum all over the mattress. “Mph fuck!” He cries out, , world blurring, ears ringing as he continues rides out his high in your arms.

Eventually he stops shaking in your embrace and upon catching his breath he’s hit with the smell of a coppery scent, one heavy eyelid prying open just to be met with the sight of his claws digging into your now bloody hands. A wave of panic rushes through him, and he’s quick to retract his claws before he goes to say something. But just as he’s about to speak you interrupt him “it’s okay”

He doesn’t say a word as he brings your hands to his lips, tongue slipping out and lapping up the bloody mess on your skin.

“Jesus Christ Logan,” you wince out, head dropping into the nook of his neck as he cleans you up, swears he can feel your cock twitching inside as he continues on with his task , his lips all bloody and smiling ear to ear when he says the words “Another round?”

Imma starting moving all my sw shit to here

Now that reader and maria has an interaction imagine if Reader dies instead of maria? Like they saved her and dies in the process? Idk if they still will do the whole destroy the world thing or not but it would be cool tho (like dr. Gerald start to see reader as his own grandchild)

Die with a Smile

pairings: Shadow the Hedgehog x reader x Maria Robotnik (platonic)

warnings: Sonic 3 spoilers, character death

summary: while trying to escape the GUN Base you and Maria are almost caught by the guards, realizing you won’t make it

a/n: I think if Maria survived she wouldn’t want to destroy the world, nor would Gerald (to an extent cause Maria wouldn’t want him to do that) but he would definitely want some type of revenge, same with Shadow but we won’t go that far into it, it’ll be just the basics of what happened that day you died instead, tysm for the request I’m not really good at writing angst but I tried🥲

Quiet. The day started off quiet. Although you sensed something was off, maybe it was the feeling of urgency you felt or the feeling that you should cherish these next hours to come.

Whatever it was you brushed it off, but thinking back on it now, you should’ve paid attention to the signs.

You, Maria and Shadow all sat on the floor, your faces fixed on the small television that Maria had in her room, it played a random movie that you weren’t too interested in. Suddenly you heard an alarm blaring, it seemed like the other heard it to as they both looked towards each other then to you.

“What’s going on?” Maria shouted, expression extremely worried. You shook your head, your hands covering your ears trying to block out the loud noise.

As you three sat there confused, the door to Maria’s room opened “Kids! We have to go!” Dr Gerald yelled at you three, ushering you each out and pointing down the corridor. Shadow held onto your left hand as Maria held onto your right and her grandfathers left.

The four of you ran as fast as you could, Maria still trying to find out what was wrong but her pleads for answers falling onto deaf ears.

As you ran, you took a quick glance, noticing the amount of guards running after you, their guns raised, ready to shoot down children.

Your grip on Shadows hand tightened, you didn’t want to die, you wanted to live with your friends; you were so scared, the fact that not only you would have to suffer this fate but also your friends.

After a bit of running you’d almost made it out, you saw the exit was near, but then you’d heard it, “Don’t shoot, they’re kids!” You turned back and saw it, the gun aiming at you guys, but then it was pushed. It was pushed towards one of the radioactive containers that you knew was unstable.

Things were racing through your mind, the hope that maybe you would all survive, the dread that dawned as you realized you wouldn’t, but maybe, at least you could ensure your friends would survive.

Before the others noticed what was happening, you pushed Shadow behind you, and then you turned your body and hugged Maria, using yourself as a shield.

And then, you smiled. It was short and small, but you smiled. You made sure both Maria and Shadow were covered by you, the majority of the blast only attacking you.

They say when you die your brain replays your best memories for the next 7 minutes. You’d always wondered if that was true, you guess now you’d really find out. You hope it’s true though, because you just wanted to see your friends one last time.

Your body was getting colder, the three no longer running for the exit, instead they stood there shocked, seeing what you’d become.

Maria was the first to try and wake you, her shoulders shaking, she was crying. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Gerald was next to get down, he was checking for any signs of life, there was nothing.

Then there was Shadow, he stood there unsure what to do, before he fell to his knees. His eyes were wide as he just stared, seeing how even in death you could smile, it was so bitter for him.

The guards didn’t give them time to mourn though, as they dragged the three of them away, putting cuffs on Maria and Gerald. Shadow was treated harsher, he screamed your name a few times as they used a taser to forcefully push him into his container.

He tried to get a look at you, he tried to find Maria and Gerald but he just couldn’t, they took you from them, and now they were going to let you lay there all alone. Any of the warmth your body had was gone.

It was no longer a quiet day, it became a day full of sorrow and despair. A day that changed the lives of people, but one thing was set in stone. That you would be avenged one day, no matter how long it would take.

                     THE BAAAAD TOUCH!

synopsis. there’s a very thin line between the way animals fuck on the discovery channel and the way you fuck them. featuring shameless, rough sex with the arcane men, and a third secret option at the end. jayce, vander, silco, viktor.

tags. top! reader, sub! jayce, vander, silco, viktor. reader has a cock. rough anal sex, creampie(s), exhibitionism, infidelity, cumslut! jayce, doggy, riding, size difference, huge cock, belly bulge, size queen! viktor, sweat kink, strength kink, breeding kink, implied marathon sex, dirty talk, degradation, praise kink, excessive amounts of manhandling, age difference, established relationships. cock-hungrified men. (lmao)

a/n. inspired by this song from bloodhound gang.

“does she know?” you pant into his ear, grip strong and sweaty on his hips, and jayce feels dirty, the way he’s being mounted like a bitch. “does she know about the way i fuck you? the sounds you make when i fill your pretty hole up?”  

he shudders, shaking his head, nails raking down your biceps as he tries to lift his head, to be less vulnerable in the way you’re taking him, but to no avail. he feels the hot burn of your palm at the back of his neck, and he finds himself back with his cheek pressed against the sheets, back arching with the violence of forcing his body to accommodate both pleasure and pain plowing away at his dignity. 

 “fuck!” he gasps, “let’s not, nnngh! talk about this. not, not right now.” it’s not the first time you’ve brought mel up in a conversation, but hardly ever more than an offhand comment, something to tease, something for fun. this… this was unknown territory. 

“why? you don’t like it?” there’s a strange displacement in your voice, a touch whiny, as though you were pouting at his denial. jayce thinks he’s going insane, because as manipulative as you were, there was no way he could say no to you. not with that look on your face. the one he can’t see but knows it’s there. 

“doesn’t matter,” jayce whispers. “it’s not ri- right.” 

you want to laugh. it’s not right? so it’s all right and just if he sneaks into your bed almost every other night for you to get him off simply because said girlfriend never could—nights of sweat and sinful lovemaking that end with him sneaking out of your room with a limp—but it’s not okay if you want to talk about it? how was that fair? 

“you don’t like her anyway, do you?” you mutter. “you should just get rid of her and be with me.” you tighten your hold on him. you want it to bruise. you want him to go home with your marks on his body. you want mel to ask about them and jayce squirming as he tries to think of a stupid excuse to fool her again. faulty gym equipment. sparring session gone wrong. you know all of his excuses. it’s funny, the way he tries to patch things up. “this is cruel… to the both of us. don’t you wanna get this over with?” 

“it’s- unh, complicated!” jayce moans, but there’s nothing complicated about it, he just doesn’t want to talk. doesn’t want to feel the shame and guilt making his guts tangle and heart pound—the way you fit into him so perfectly, so innately, like you’ve always belonged inside him, a missing piece to his puzzle. 

he bites back a whine as the thick head of your cock pushes against his swollen prostate, and he’s not sure if he can even feel his legs at this point. it’s humiliating, the way you’re cooing nasty words into his ear, handprints branding his hips as you tug him up only to slam downwards against him, pushing him further down into the mattress with every heavy thrust. 

“why? what’s keeping you then? hah. don’t tell me. does she fuck you like this too?” you snarl, sucking hot purple bruises down the column of his neck, salt and iron underneath your tongue making you hungry, and he keens. “so desperate for cock you’d let your girlfriend fuck you, jayce? well? does she fuck you as good as i do?” 

“noo,” jayce slurs, shaking his head, “nothing’s as good. you’re the best. love it. love you.” 

“really?” you bark out a laugh, and he nods dumbly, like his body’s conditioned to respond to your every whim, wanting to please, to serve. “well, i don’t see it at all. only thing you could ever be in love with is my cock.” 

“ah- ah, yeah, that too,” he whines, “love you more.” 

“liar,” you growl, and he sobs out at the way your length drags across his walls, thick and girthy, missing his prostate on purpose. it’s a punishment, jayce knows. he’s sorry. he feels so guilty. “pretty slutty liar. you’ll do anything to get stuffed, won’t you? even if it means cheating on your little girlfriend. you’ll even enjoy it, the moment you break her heart.” 

jayce shakes his head, tears blurring his vision. he can’t even say anything at this point, with the way you’re forcing him to take, fucking the words out of him. he can’t help being addicted to this. it’s too good. mel would understand, wouldn’t she? she would, if only she could have a taste of it. it’s not his fault. not really. 

“you probably think she’ll never know. you probably think she’ll never find out.” you’re talking again, but the sounds buzz by, intelligible. jayce swallows, letting your accusation wash over him. he has been careful, hasn’t he. surely she won’t know. surely she can’t know. “the way you start crying when you’re about to cum. you think she’ll never know about that, right?” 

he doesn’t know what you mean, but it’s so hard to think. there’s wetness on his cheeks and the low flame in his belly has blazed into a forest fire. he wants to cum. he needs it. he needs it hard and rough, bruises on his waist and hips and love bites on his collarbones, hard, heavy thrusts that make him feel dizzy and high and stupid, drowning him in the throes of pleasure that only you can give to him. 

“please,” jayce begs, tears streaming down his face. “i want, ngh… ah, want your cum in me.” 

and before he knows it, there’s the rush of hot cum flooding his hole, the sweaty press of your chest against his back, your hips trembling and bucking against his, and it’s so good it makes him see stars. but you don’t stop. it’s messy and filthy, and pure bliss when he feels you snake a hand into his hair and wrench his head up, rough and careless just the way he likes it. 

his eyes roll back before his cock starts helplessly spurting at the sight of mel standing in the doorway, watching him being bred like a whore.

VANDER

. . . vander thinks he maybe maybe made a mistake, telling you to be rough with him. because this is exactly the kind of rough he likes. 

“oh, fuck, sweetness,” he moans, arousal bleeding into his guttural voice as he arches his back and cants his hips backwards to receive your thrusts, taking you deeper inside, his ass bouncing every time you meet his hips with a wet, nasty ‘pap’. “t-thaat’s it, kid. right there, fuck, harder…” 

he’s clutching his pillow tightly, waves of pleasure shackling him to the bed as you’re pounding away at his hole from behind. you’ve snaked a hand into his hair to wrench his head up roughly, and a low whine pushes its way past his lips, punctuated by a sharp, deadly thrust aimed at his prostate. he’s pretty sure his own cock’s rubbed raw against the sheets, spurting so much pre there’s a sticky, slippery pool underneath him—easing the steamy push and glide. 

there are stars bursting at the corners of his eyes, threatening to consume his vision, and he can vaguely feel his toes curl and thighs spasm at every brush of your cock against his bundle of nerves. there’s sweat dripping down his face, a salty tang on his tongue, and he wipes his forehead with the back of his hand, hearing nothing but his own heavy pants and groans, attuned to the rhythm of your thrusts. it’s too good. almost makes him feel young again. he’s halfway through his forties, and yet you’re fucking him like he’s twenty. 

vander can feel your hands all over him, pressing heavy bruises onto the tender fat of his waist and hips, bodily dragging him back onto your cock every time you ram forward, making sure to put your entire weight behind it. the mattress is letting out horrible creaking sounds, the headboard of the bed slamming into the wall in perfect tempo, and the both of you are going to regret this later, but fuck, he doesn’t care. 

it’s addicting. it’s violent. vander shouldn’t be enjoying this, but he is. 

“fuck, love, y’er gonna make me cum already,” he chokes out, and it’s more of a drunken slur, really — there’s something about the way you’re treating him that makes him dizzy and weak at the knees. his fists are clenched, grasping at the bedsheets every time he feels like snaking a hand between his legs and jerking off to your thrusts. he wants to enjoy it, savour it—the way you’re taking him, pressing him into the mattress like you’re trying to break the bed before you break him, gaze hungry enough to swallow him up in your lust. 

“go ahead and cum, vander,” you drawl, grabbing a handful of his ass before sharply spanking him across, the sting rewarding you with a full-body shiver. “i want you to cum like it’s your last night on earth.” 

who the absolute fuck does this kid think he is, vander thinks, and he quickly buries his face back into the pillow because he knows he’s going to get loud. you’re insane. insanely bad at dirty talk, but your hunger makes up for it. he’s never liked dirty talking that much, but fuck, if you weren’t something different. cum like it’s his last night on earth? he really underestimated how greedy you were. 

“cocky,” he wheezes instead, once he’s caught his breath, “y’er gonna, haah, hafta fuck me harder for that to happen.” it’s yet another bad decision, and he’s digging his own grave, he knows it. as if you aren’t already fucking him within an inch of his life—the bulbous shape of your cockhead digging into his prostate with such immaculate precision, pressing the shape of your handprints into his skin as you fuck him with your eyes, your hands and your cock. 

hungry. intense. unforgettable. vander doesn’t think he’ll ever get enough of it. 

before he can even breathe, you’ve hooked one arm under his thigh, tossing him over onto his back like you’re flipping a fucking pancake, and vander’s not a delicate man by all means. without wasting a second, you’re pushing inside him again, groaning shamelessly as his wet, warm cave engulfs you perfectly. vander makes a desperate noise, eyes squeezing shut—there’s no pillow to muffle his cries or hide his expressions from you this time, but he’s far too close to be embarrassed. 

the new position’s got you so deep inside him, and it’s getting harder to breathe, almost as though he could feel you all the way to his throat. it’s uncomfortable and very inconsiderate of his aching back, but the mind-numbing pleasure hammering away at his sweet spot makes up for it. 

“s-so fuckin’ good, kid,” he pants out, arching his back with a moan as you reach down to grope at his tits, the muscles plump and soft with tender age, hole clenching around you tightly every time you tug at his perky nipples. his cock’s all leaky, drooling over his stomach and making a mess, and he’s so aroused it’s almost endearing. “fuck me… god, fuck me.” 

he’s going to cum hands-free, vander thinks, and shit, you’re going to be so smug about this after you’re done with having your way with him. vander sneaks a glance at you—eyelids fluttering, making little grunts of pleasure every time you bully your way into his tight wet warmth. it embarrassingly makes the back of his neck burn, makes him feel all hot and sexy and wanted. 

“yeah? best cock you’ve ever taken, vander?” you purr, and his breath stutters, seizing up with a yell and then he’s fucking cumming with you balls-deep inside him. guess you’ll take that as a yes.

SILCO

silco doesn’t know how long he’s been bent over in that same fucking position, but he doesn’t plan on making you stop anytime soon. 

“darling, not so rough. . .” he gasps out, nails raking down the expensive wood of his office desk while you plow away at him from behind, his hole sopping wet but tight, as though you haven’t cum two times in him already. he can feel his knees knocking into the hard front of the desk with every brutal thrust, the weeping tip of his erection grazing the cool mahogany, the pleasure inside him making his lower belly burn with a flame he hasn’t felt in a long time. 

“why?” you grin, draping yourself over his half-clothed stature, his pants yanked down to his ankles as he’s bent over to take. you shuffle forward, making sure his ass is pressed snugly against your crotch before giving an experimental roll of your hips, always reaching deeper, for more. “worried that they’ll hear?” 

silco presses his lips together in a thin line, tilting his face away from yours, and if you didn’t know any better, you would have thought he were sulking. you laughed. it was just too easy to piss him off sometimes. 

“i’m just playing around, baby. your office is soundproofed, no?” you straightened yourself, running a hand over the smooth, sensitive expanse of his back before returning to your firm grip on his bruised hips. he gave a shuddering sigh, trying to relax as you started to rock into him again with strong, steady thrusts. 

“it doesn’t matter,” he rasps, “we’re, hah, being too loud… sweetheart. s-sevika is right outside.” 

“don’t care,” you mutter. “i’m pent up. ‘least you can do is let me fuck you stupid. you’ll let me, right?” 

silco makes a noise at the back of his throat, half from displeasure, the other half from the sharp curl of arousal in his lower abdomen, making his cock twitch and leak. fuck if it didn’t turn him on when you talked to him like this. he settles for burying his face into his arms, preparing himself for whatever you were going to put him through. 

“be gentle,” he whispers, letting out a shuddering sigh. “i’m not so young anymore.” 

you could feel a grin pulling at the corners of your lips. yeah. sure, you were going to be gentle with him. with him looking like that. 

“hngh, r-right there…” silco mewls out, knees buckling repeatedly as he tries not to think about how loud he’s being. he supposes he could gag himself with something, your fingers, maybe, get them warm and wet for you while you use his face as leverage to fuck him harder, but he knows how much his noises spur you on, and right now he really doesn’t want to piss you off. not when you’re indulging him so well. “that’s it… you’re so good… darling.” 

“not so shy anymore?” you hummed, licking a hot stripe up his neck, his gasp twisting into a whine. “think we can make you louder?” 

“sweetheart,” he sighs as he feels your hand wrap around his throat, and he tilts his head back to let you grip it properly. “you already know what i want.” 

“well, i don’t think so.” you smile, leaning down to press your cheek against his, working away from behind with short, firm thrusts that steal his breath away. “remind me. did we use the magic word yet?” 

but just as he’s about to answer with snark, there’s the rap of fists against his office door, and silco feels his heart plummet. not now, when things were about to get good—this was the worst timing possible. “everything alright, boss?” 

“yes,” silco pants, “fuck… yes.” 

you can feel his nails dig into the back of your thigh, warning you not to pull out. you’re thick and heavy, resting against his stomach, and silco feels so fucking good and full. you can’t stop now. not until he’s had his fill. he can vaguely feel your warm seed trailing its way down his perineum in a slow trickle, and fuck, he wants more. wants to feel stuffed even without you inside him, drowsy and content. 

he blinks, brows furrowing as he catches himself fantasizing about you yet again. should he even be having thoughts like these in his forties? was this healthy? sex with you was life-changingly—and now apparently hormone-alteringly good. 

“sir?” sevika’s growl interrupts his train of thought. and yeah, not to mention—his second-in-command is right outside his office, while all he can think about is cock. shit. your big, leaky cock, buried to the hilt inside his hole. he wonders if it’ll be gaping once you’re done with him. and oh. cum. loads of your cum, filling up every inch of space inside him. making it hard to breathe. making him swel— “is someone in there with you?” 

“yes,” silco wheezes dumbly as you roll your hips against him with meaning, forcing him to take you deeper. he trembles, shifting back slightly to fuck himself on your cock, forcing a sharp inhale from you. “we are busy. you’re, oh… dismissed, sevika.” 

the silence is loud, save for the almost-silent squelches of your cock maneuvering inside him with all the cum stored in his belly. 

you can feel his heart pounding from the way your chest is pressed against his bare back. or maybe it’s your own. his walls squeeze around you, sinfully tight, pulling a muffled moan from where you have your teeth sunken into his shoulder. fuck. he’s—silco’s actually into this. you’d have never guessed he would be such a freak, for lack of a better word, but with how things were going . . . you didn’t mind it. not one bit. it drove you crazy with want, if anything. 

“... if you say so, boss.” the sound of retreating footsteps fills you with both relief and disappointment, but before you could even process what that means, you can feel silco gazing at you through his lashes, low and scrutinizing and something needy. 

“did i say you could stop?” silco grunts. “fuck me.” 

you let out a shaky sigh, hips already bucking back into the warm mould of your cock—and the next sound that drives past his lips is a loud and unabashed sob of your name. 

you think you might have unlocked something new in your lover.

VIKTOR

“it won’t fit,” viktor slurs, moans tumbling out of his mouth as he gives a shaky roll of his hips. he’s not quite there yet, with only the tip sucked in, but he’s making good progress. “i’m terribly s-sorry, dear. your… appendage. it’s too big.” 

his eyes flutter shut at the feeling of your hands forming a ring around his waist, strong and firm, a warm assurance that there was a possibility… although slight, that he’d make it. 

“it’ll fit,” you murmur, kissing the sensitive spot at the back of his ear, the one that makes him suck in a sharp breath and shudder. “you’re doing very good, love. just… a little more, yeah?” 

viktor looks down. it’s nowhere near a little more. you’re barely halfway in and he’s already thinking about quitting—has been, since the stupidly huge head of your cock breached his rim, making him feel a stretch that no amount of fingers or plastic toys could replicate. it was something extraordinary. overwhelmingly so. 

“please,” he mewls, forehead dropping to rest on your shoulder. “t-touch me? i think i’ll probably, hah, ease up a little if you would… oh, yes. thank you, dear. thank you.” 

it’s… in simple words, too much. you’re usually very considerate, taking your time with him with your fingers, rubbing on his tender walls until he loosens enough for you to slip another one in. the night would then end with you fucking his thighs, sticky and slick with his own cum. it’s good. it’s enough. that was until he started having thoughts of what it would feel like if you were inside him. 

but viktor would’ve never imagined it would be like this. the difference in size was just… comical. you were so deep inside him already, the impossible girth forming an obscene bulge over his abdomen, making him whine with the fullness. if this is already what it feels like to have you inside, then just what would it feel like to have you spill inside him?

he can’t lie—he’s spent nights waiting for you to fall asleep first so that he could scoop up some of the cum you had missed on the sheets, quietly fingering himself with the cold slickness. it didn’t feel right, even if it was yours. it just wasn’t the same. he wanted, no, needed to feel it for himself. 

it doesn’t help, the way you’re stroking him, ever so gentle with him. your huge palm covers his entire length without having to move much, huge thumb rubbing at his leaking tip, and viktor’s never been so hard before in his whole life. he’s so close already, hole fluttering around you uncontrollably, and it’s almost cute how it looks like it’s going to swallow you up. maybe it is. 

maybe it’ll fit. 

“last few inches,” you pant, fingers trembling slightly where you’re struggling not to press bruises into the cup of his hips. “can i-? please, vik. it’s so good. you’re so good. i just need a little more. please, baby.” 

“yes,” viktor blurts out, before he realises just what he agreed to—but within the next second he can feel something abnormally large pushing its way past his tight walls, faster and rougher than before, even as he tries to clench and hold still—it’s mean and a little too much, but then the back of his thighs meets hot skin and he nearly blacks out with the stretch of it all. 

“ngh,” viktor keens, trembling with exhaustion as he tries to settle into your lap comfortably with such a large intrusion within him. “soo full…” 

you sigh in pleasure, hands going back to his hips where they belong, pushing him down until you’re satisfied that he’s properly taken everything you’ve given him. it’s not a demand, viktor thinks, more like a comfort. telling him that you’ve always known he would’ve been able to take you in the first place. that this is where he belongs, filled to the brim with you and you only. 

he lets out a shuddering moan when you start to slowly bounce him on your lap, lifting him up with ease a good inch or two, before rolling your hips to meet his, pushing yourself deeper. “shit, vik…” you groan, and he cries out with every brush against his prostate, the sheer size of you making it impossible to miss it. “you’re so tight, baby… so perfect. i’m right here with you, okay? easy now, you’re doing so good.” 

you’re so good to him as always, whispering sweet nothings into his ear, but it’s different this time, and fuuck. viktor thinks he’s dying with how good it feels. he tries to steer his hips, to actually ride you instead of having you manhandling him up and down your cock, but there’s hardly any friction left now that he’s properly stretched, and any attempt results in him collapsing back to his knees, the pleasure making him weak. 

he settles for hanging onto you, arms wrapping around your neck and choking out little whimpers as you rock upwards into his waiting hole again and again, toes curling and nails scratching red trails down your back with the all-consuming pleasure.

it’s driving him crazy, the fullness, the simple thought of you pumping your seed and sperm into him, of making love with you. it’s nothing like the way it was written in the textbooks he had spent nights researching—it’s beyond anything he would have ever imagined. 

“please,” viktor sobs out, feeling strangely empty every time you pull out halfway, as ironic as it was—as though there was a chance you would leave him fully. the thought of it hurt. if only you could fit inside him forever. if only. “stay…” he cries, “cum inside. m-make me yours.” 

you lean forward, pressing your lips against his in a hurried kiss, at the same time grinding so deep viktor thinks, for a split of a second, that that might be you he’s feeling in his stomach. the broken wail he gives is loud and muffled, and you lap up the drool on the side of his face, watching as your lover’s eyes flutter shut at the feeling of being filled, properly this time, to the brink of spilling.

masterlist!

Major Buir (Plo Koon x reader)

{masterlist}

Words: 3.7k

Warnings: Unedited, Plo Koon trying to flirt but not quite understanding how to make the swoon, Wolffe being the embarrassed son, potential second hand embarrassment for the reader because I think that Plo is very sweet but is not well versed in the art of flirting. Clones being dumb and cute. Angry Wolffe, potential fluff overload-I got a little carried away. 

Notes: Yeeee it’s my first time writing for Plo-would it be wrong to tag?…I’m gonna do it. @a-dorin , I would like to thank you for inspiring me to write this. I find myself steadily becoming a Plo simp and your fics have only accelerated my downward spiral. 

Also, this was only supposed to be about 1.5k words…woops

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“From this, we can conclude that the remnants of the Ehterium cluster supernova would provide a suitable route around this Separatist controlled rat’s nest.” You sniffed carefully and lowered the pointer to tap against the ground but it landed on your foot. Swiftly, you moved it again so it actually tapped against the durasteel floor of the briefing room. A few chuckles slipped from the gathered cloned men and Jedi generals currently scanning over your notes on the holomap that had witnessed the little slip-up. “Though I can understand the hesitance-which is why I have also taken the liberty of charting a different course around the cluster entirely. It would take much longer though and would put you in more danger in the long run as you’d be exposed and out of range for too…long.” You trailed off, suddenly self-conscious of the overuse of the word ‘long’. Even though you’d worked for the GAR since the start of the clone wars (and technically before that if you counted all the academy training) you’d never gotten the hang of the ‘intimidating analytics and tactician officer’ schtick despite trying. You were often compared to a little mouse in the academy-even when you were wielding a blaster. But that hardly mattered when you were one of the top tacticians in the army and the Jedi were very kind to you. Especially General Plo Koon. He was incredibly patient with you as you adjusted to life with the 104th after being transferred from the 205th and he gave off this very warm and loving vibe. 

And thankfully your new general was among the Jedi present-calmly looking at you with hands clasped behind his back, respectfully silent as the other masters muttered over the maps you’d provided. You met his eyes uncertainly. While it wasn’t like this was your first time pitching a new tactic to a general it was the first time you’d ever pitched an idea to so many people (eight, to be exact) that were so high ranking. The room was currently occupied by yourself, Depa Billaba, Obi Wan Kenobi, Cody, Anakin, Ahsoka, Rex, Commander Wolffe, and Plo Koon and while none of them were ever rude to you it was hard to not be intimidated. You weren’t the one that had to go through with this plan-they did. They were the ones in danger. Sure, you could lose your job but they could lose their lives. So, you looked to Plo Koon as he would be sure to tell you what he thought. 

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pls enjoy some misc icons that I’m tired of seeing in my drafts folder part two (?) I think? Possibly part three? Who knows… not me.