Chris RWK / Robots Will Kill

wip wednesday!

hi my beautiful people! this is something ive been working on between other stuff so let me know what you think!

nsfw below!

˚｡⋆⟡♡⟡⋆｡˚

You lean back against the seat, eyes speaking a thousand words as they meet his. God, he’s so handsome. His pretty hazel eyes, the slope of his nose, the salt and pepper stubble across his cheeks. Oh, how you want to feel the burn against your—

“Stop that.” Logan’s grunt snaps you out of your thoughts,

“Stop what?” You go for innocence but really, your tone is saturated in desire and it gives you away entirely.

“Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what, Logan?” You’re challenging him, and though you can’t see it from the backseat, his dress pants get considerably tighter at the defiance in your voice. “I’m not doing anything.”

“Bullshit,” He counters, eyes flickering to yours and you choose then to bite down on your glossy lips. His knuckles flex with the urge to release the claws piercing beneath his skin. Is he crazy for being jealous that he’s not the one biting into the plush skin? “You’re staring at me like you want me to fuck you.”

Vermillion warmth spreads from your chest to your cheeks at his bluntness. It’s completely true, but the lewdness makes you flush, and your panties to dampen at the thought.

“It’s not gonna happen, baby.” His tone is final and it pisses you off. “Knock it off.”

You roll your eyes, turning to stare out the window. You’re not sure when it started raining, but the water droplets hit the glass pane harshly with its momentum. The pitter patter of water should distract you from Logan, but it just sends you further spiraling.

How dare he deny your feelings and then call you baby?

and what the FUCKKKKKK DO Y’ALL KNOW ABT THIS DAMN TIKTOK EDIT.

Congratulations on your milestone!!! If you're still taking microdrabble requests... How can I, as a tattooed girl, turn down Mr. Daniels in a tattoo parlor AU? x

Here we are, my first ever AU (if you don't count Palomino!). This was incredibly fun to write, thank you Lucy for sending in this request. Now, I didn't have the word count to talk about what Jack has tattooed on his arms, but if you'd like to know, you know what to do 😉

Jack Daniels x tattoo parlour AU

Fuck Yeah 2022 Sleepover micro drabble request | 360ish words | warnings: mature themes but not explicit, Jack is a menace any universe he's in, mentions of alcohol consumption

You stomp your foot, the two glasses of wine you had with dinner making you more petulant than usual, jutting your bottom lip out in a pout. 'What do you mean no?'

The proprietor who introduced himself as Jack 'Whiskey' Daniels gives you a stern look from under the brim of his black cowboy hat. 'Exactly what that means, sugar. No.'

'This is a tattoo parlour. Aren't you supposed to give the customer what they want?'

With a sigh, he leans on his palms on the counter, and you can't help but run your eyes over this man. He's wearing a white wifebeater under a thin leather jacket, sleeves pushed up to the crease of his elbows. His forearms flex, sending a ripple through his full sleeves tattoos with the movement.

'But you don't know what you want,' he points out.

'So what? Just tattoo whatever on me - I don't care!'

He scoffs. 'Oh, I ain't fallin' for that again. Nearly cost me my shop last time.'

'C'mon. I just want a small tattoo,' you whine. 'I'm on my Eat, Pray, Love journey.'

'In Kentucky?'

You try a different tact, softening your eyes and drawing your brows into a pleading angle. 'I just want to do something stupid. For once.'

At that, he arches an eyebrow, and his whole demeanour changes. A lazy arrogance settles into his handsome face, and his lips pull into a grinning smirk as he traps you with something bordering on lecherous in his gaze.

It really shouldn't work on you - but it does.

'Well, well, well, you don't say, sugar,' he drawls. 'If you wanted to do somethin' stupid - why don't you just do me?'

Three quarters of an hour later, sweaty and half-undressed on a cushioned tattoo table, you grin at the man slumped on top of you through dilated pupils, your body sluggish with a bone-deep satisfaction that you haven't felt for a long, long time.

'I know what tattoo I want to get now,' you declare, still breathing heavily when you reach up to push a damp curl from his forehead.

'Is that so?' he hums, pressing a kiss to your temple, but otherwise showing no intention to move off you. 'And what might that be?'

'Your face. On my neck.'

Jack laughs, the sound deep and velvety against your warm cheek as his eyes crinkle. 'Now that's definitely somethin' stupid.'

Firsr up, as he is rather short(5 feet and smth), he might have a secret thing for wayyy taller women.

Second headcanon, he tried footwear with built-in standers to make him seem taller but they got uncomfortable and trully embarassed him.

tiny people problem

logan is around 5 feet tall, yes?

assuming the shelves at the supermarket is over 6 feet tall, our little tough man can't reach the top shelves for his maple syrup.

he has obviously tried to use a plastic stool but it broke cause of his weight

so, what does he do?

if ororo is free he gets her to tag along, if not her.... maybe scott ...because he's reasonable and not gonna tease the shit out of logan like other's will cause they are waiting for the moment of weakness to appear, to strike, for all the teases and snark logan has blessed them over the years.

if those 2 are not present for whatever UN-meeting-or-peace-coordinating-mission reasons, ....and if he's feeling petty ..... for a certain blond telepath calling him mean mean untrue things ..... and maybe mind controlling him a few times....

next time logan is seen leaving a grocery store, he has all the top shelf items, looking fashionable in one of emma's corsets and earrings, in tight pair of pants, strutting along with the cart in her 12 inch stripper heels.... ;-)

( heee hee heee! )

if you have silly headcanons, reblog and comment!!

:-) :-)

Welcome to my Kingsman side, that I didn't explore about on Tumblr until now😭

Cowboy hat rule

Jack Daniels (or any other cowboy) x f!reader (no use of y/n)

Summary: the aftermath of taking a Cowboys hat Rating: smut, almost no plot

Word count: 1178

With all the smoke and people trying to talk over each other the atmosphere in the bar feels steamy. Just like others, filled with liquid courage girls, she’s doing her best stealing the attention of a man. Not just any man, a handsome cowboy who without even trying makes her nervous like she’s a teenager.

At this point, innocent touches are standard. Lips getting so close to the delicate elope, so the sentence doesn’t get lost in the loud bar. Or hands placed gently on the lower back when passing by. They don’t have to do that. They could scream or go around the table but they both feel the unapprehended need to be as close as possible. Closer than the fabric of their clothes.

The cowboy compliments her dress which earns him a smile and a spin from the girl. If she moved a liter faster he could see her underwear. Or maybe she doesn’t wear any. A thought that now can’t escape his mind. She wants to compliment him too, but truth be told she doesn’t like his clothes. They cower his broad shoulders which is a crime. She reaches for the hat but he stops her in the middle of that action.

"Be careful. If you take a cowboy’s hat, you’ll have to ride him” he warns her in a deep voice.

‘’That’s a rule?’’ she legitimately is surprised when he nods ‘’yes” but this state doesn’t last long. There’s something about him. Making her want to do things usually she doesn’t do. Making her desperate for any of his attention. In a crowded bar, there’s no space to figure out what it is. She has to take him somewhere where they could explore each other.

Without hesitation, she looks him deeply in the eyes and once again reaches for his cowboy hat. This time he doesn’t stop her. She’s a big girl, she knows what she’s doing. Still, the pupils in his eyes get wider at her action. When the hat, his hat, takes a place on her head he’s ready to fuck her right there. Luckily for him, she already has a plan.

‘’You drove here, right?”

---------

Even with the thick fabric of her jeans, she can feel his hands digging into her cheeks. There’s so much power and strength in the movement but it doesn’t hurt at all. He must have done it many times before. Every grind sends a shiver down her spine, making her more impatient to have any skin-to-skin contact.

She goes for the checkered shirt, throwing it somewhere to find later on one of the seats. It gives her nothing. He’s wearing a black top underneath it. A curse escapes her mouth when she tries to pull the fabric out of his pants. It makes him laugh quietly. So desperate, so pretty and needy. All of this is his for now.

His hand grabs both of her wrists, stopping her trying to make him less covered. Slowly, with one hand, he undoes the belt with some ridiculously big buckle. Her, now almost all black, eyes following every move. When the metal hits the floor, she can see a glimpse of a bulge forming underneath the denim. Mentally she’s preparing herself for a ride like she never had before.

It comes faster than she suspected. In the limited space of the old truck, he manages to lay her down on the backseats. There’s no awkwardness or wobble in his actions. Such a little detail, but it makes her even more excited. He also has little trouble removing her pants which makes her a little embarrassed that she couldn’t deal with him earlier. Luckily she doesn't have a single moment to overthink this. Wet lips and the delicate pinch of his mustache are a perfect distraction.

The higher he gets the more she has to stop herself from hurrying him. The walk from the bar to the truck seemed long, it’s nothing compared to the trail he’s taking now. But he gets there, exactly where she wants him. Only now that he tears her underwear she feels like he’s desperate for her too.

There’s no hesitation in his actions. He practically dives into her pussy, drinking all that she’s unwittingly willing to give him. All of her just for him.

‘’Fuck, don’t stop!” every sentence that leaves her mouth makes him go faster. It’s a never-ending circle until she lets out a scream that someone in the bar for sure could have heard. Delicate kisses on her thighs are too much. But she has no strength to tell him to stop, the blissful explosion took over her body. Slowly she opens her eyes and it is then that she notices that all the windows are steamy.

They’re just looking at each other. Two strangers who’ve met just a few hours before, hypnotized by each other. She can’t stop herself and slowly starts moving towards him, building the anticipation. They finally touch again, her hand on his shoulder when she swings her leg over his lap.

Now, they’re exactly where they should have been. The promise made earlier is happening at that moment. They kiss and it’s slower than any kiss they’ve shared but it’s also more passionate. When lips touch slowly, soaking the moment, it doesn't feel like a one-time thing for any of them.

Once again he guides her hips, addicting her to the feeling she can’t take enough of. It feels perfect and at the same time not enough. She reaches between their bodies and within a moment she’s full of him. The truck is filled with sounds of their pleasure. Quiet moans that couldn’t be kept inside if they’ve tried. Kisses and breaths on the neck add to the addictive feeling. It’s slow, it’s intimate, it’s so much in the best way possible. Until he starts pumping into her faster. Somebody heard them for sure. Maybe steam has covered the windows but the sounds of their pleasure are too loud to hide. The world could be ending and they wouldn’t notice as they start to move together even faster.

She might be screaming at this point, but it doesn't matter. The hot coil growing in her is the only thing she cares about. He comes first, filling her with as much as he can. As his orgasm slowly dies he has a perfect view. Her body stretched right in front of him. Delicious breast bouncing as she chases her own pleasure. He still guides her and adds to it by kissing every inch of her skin he can. It doesn't take much. Few circles around her nipple and she’s screaming even louder.

There’s not a lot of space but somehow with the explosion inside of her, she’s afraid to fall. She holds to his broad shoulder for her life as she slowly gains consciousness.

They sit body to body as their breaths return to normal pace. Once again their stares connect and there’s that unspoken agreement that this wasn't the last time they’ve seen each other.

BE.MA.LOVARRRR

✨✨

I just think it’s been a while since we’ve had a circus x-men comic…

(Reposted with edits to the lettering because more than one person read it as ‘edible’ and they were right 😂😂)

thinking about stripper reader with old man logan.

he came in every week or so — disheveled outfit and hair. he was older, sure — but not in the way most men his age looked. no — the years didn’t wear on him, but whatever he did that day did. his wrinkles weren’t deep, but the bags under his eyes were. his smile lines weren’t permanent, but the distant look in his eyes was. his bones didn’t crack because they were old, but because they were under too much stress. you couldn’t help it — you wanted to take that pain away.

no one wanted to approach him because he seemed to keep to himself — worried he was a creep or something. he was quiet, too — only speaking when he ordered a drink or another after that. he replied in nods or shakes of the head, and his eyes were always on the stage. despite the fact that he tipped well — no one bit.

you were feeling brave that day when you approached him. you kept it simple — black lace teddy, black lace thong, and black heels. hair bouncy with light makeup, hoping to keep the star of the show your eyes and smile. you knew he could see you out of the corner of his eye, and it threatened your confidence — but he had peaked your interest for too long for you to toss and stumble now.

“hey, handsome,” you spoke, keeping your tone light. “need another?”

he didn’t cock his head towards you, keeping his gaze in front. he swirled the small sip of whisky left in his glass, appearing to contemplate your question. after a moment, he responded, “dancers don’t take drink orders, darlin’.”

“no,” you spoke, laughing slightly. you bent at the hips, hoping to be lower than his eye line. “but they don’t when they give private dances — interested?”

“no, thanks.”

his voice was final — and even though you were disappointed, you didn’t want to push it. you stood then, taking a step back. “okay — i’ll send a waitress over.”

after working the room — it was your turn to take one of the side stages. you had your pick of which — but you decided to keep it as far away from the man as possible. if he didn’t want to be bothered, who were you to threaten a good tip? curiosity would not be killing the cat tonight — especially not when there was more money to be made.

a few men had gathered during your set, throwing a few dollar bills here and there as you swung your hips to the music. you had switched into a falls cowboys cheerleader outfit — white shorts, blue top, and white bra. cliche and overdone, but by the look of your tips — you couldn’t care less.

you also couldn’t care less when you noticed a set of eyes on you — the man’s.

he was unashamed in the way he stared at you. he had gotten another round at some point — but wasn’t drinking any of the contents. he simply gripped it tight as he stared at your swaying hips and perfect curves. you bit your lip at the thought of him regretting turning you away, the confidence intoxicating you. before the song ended, you made sure to lock eyes with him — letting you know that this was your stage and your body he was silently and secretly drooling over. when you sent a cheeky wink his way, he shook his head — downing his glass in an instant. you smiled when he stood from his seat, immediately darting for the “vip” lounge in the back that proudly boasted a sign that read “private dances.”

when you made your way into the back room, you were told that a certain someone had specially asked for you. once you made your way back there, you found what you were looking for.

“make me feel young again, darlin’.”

you couldn’t help but smile. he didn’t say it in an insecure way, but in a way that suggested that his day had been too long and too tiring.

“tell me how you like it?”

he didn’t say anything — he just watched you. his eyes never left yours as you flung off your top, exposing your breasts. he drank his entire glass of whisky before you had planted yourself on his thighs. the flesh of your ass was like to pillows, fit for his large hands. he didn’t touch you — but by how hard he gulped, you could tell he wanted to.

“touch me, sugar,” you whispered. “i won’t tell.”

there was hesitation in his eyes, but soon his gaze darkened. restraint had fallen through the cracks, gone and forgotten. was a shame he had already paid for the dance — you would’ve fucked him for free.

now it was time to make it worth his while.

the man beneath you ground your round hips down into his pelvis, groaning at the friction. he hadn’t seen peace or pleasure since never, but it held his facial feature hostage as his nostrils picked up on the scent of your arousal. warm, tangy juices that leaked through the lace in your panties onto the denim of his jeans.

“take off your pants,” you breathed. “i’ll remind you how young you are — if you promise you’ll show me the skill that only comes with age.”

he had you bent over the table, hands behind your back held by his belt. he planted two heavy feet next to each of your ankles, keeping your legs spread and ready for him. his thrusts were hard against the back of your hips as you only had the table’s edge to support you. you felt him repeatedly hit your cervix, wincing at the aggression.

“that’s not the spot, huh, darlin’?” he spat.

you stayed silent — wanting to see how he reacted.

“i can feel it — resistance,” he grunted. “that sweet pussy needs more, doesn’t she?”

his hard, calloused hands rotated your hips so the tip of his cock repeatedly began to smack into the softest and gummiest part of your inner walls. a moan ripped through you like no other — your back arching upwards as your hips desperately tried to meet his thrusts.

“there it is — that’s it, darlin’. come on, fight back.” you could feel the rough skin of his finger tips dig up and into your pelvis, welcoming the pressure. one of his hands moved underneath you — hauling your hips upwards — pressing against your lower abdomen. he could feel the outline of his cock fucking into your womb, stuffing you full. “i can feel how deep your takin’ it, darlin’ — pussy so greedy, ain’t she? — always wantin’ more? those young boys just ain’ it? i’ll take care of her, darlin’…”

you were a whining mess beneath him — practically incoherent. he could hear, smell, feel, taste everything you were feeling. he had every part of you in his hands — completely vulnerable to his mercy and touch. and when your hips started to shake — fighting with him and against him — all he could do was force them down as you took his cock. you whined and whine and whinedwhinedwhined for more until the glam makeup began to melt off your face.

the man watched as your body shook for him — him and only him. you found his wrist, holding onto it for dear life as you tired to anchor yourself. the pleasure was too much, causing your head to spin. you could feel the man rub the skin of your ass tenderly, coaxing you into your orgasm. your womb bloomed for him, wanting to suck him dry and never let him go. his groans were animalistic, filling the room as you begged him to fill your pussy. he smacked your ass once, twice, thrice before he pulled out and painted your back with his cum.

once he pulled out, you were still on your stomach on the table as you tried to catch your breath. he bent down to meet your eyes — a youthful glow on his face — before he pressed a kiss to your lips.

“you just ruined men my own age for me.”

“get your things, doll — takin’ you away from here.”

———

depravity - L xoxo lmk what u think ;)

Gosh I love math.

I have a joke about math but im 2² to say it

~°•🤍•°~

It is weird, indeed, that I miss having my hands cold, fingers purple and shaky breath because of the shattering cold in the middle of december. I miss it 'cause I knew you'd come with yours, to collapse with mine, and warm them under murmured words of love.

Maybe even weirder that I loved your hands cupping my prune cheeks perfectly, as crystal flakes of snow wet my hair. And just how you looked at me,even though I looked horrible in the night...somehow, your blue eyes saw me so magestic, trough a lens.

-

"Even in the night, see? Even here you are beautiful. You're my girl. My beautiful girl."

_

That's how you sang to me. In cold nights of December, after school and after theatre hours on Fridays. I've signed my name across your heart once, and signed it deep. So it remains there, no matter how much you try to change the heart that I wrote it on.

If it is like this, if this is the truth...Then why did you leave? With your heart still bleeding from the blade that I signed myself in..?! You still longed for me when your ego decided for you; that's why you bled.

Now who will kill my grief in the snow, just how Mother Nature soothes the pain of a dead dove by sinking it deep into soil?

Will you let me falter again and again and in the freezing cold, staring from a close distance...yet not moving an inch?

Now I love Winter...because of you. For as long as we were one, together, I loved it. Because it felt just like looking at you, like touching you, like speaking to you. Now's why the cold didn't hurt me, it welcomed me. Why the snow was warm to my palms, like your face was in them. Why the taste of snow was like your lips slick on mine. Why the cascades of winds surrounded me, just.like.your voice...praising me.

-

"Yeah she's..she's just a girl in my class. Her name's ______ or something..."

_

A/N:Okay I know, it's just me blabbering about long lost love (silly me😭) I still cannot let go off sometimes.

~°•🤍•°~