Improved Social Compatibility + Physical Features Replacement Addon For Turn-Ons

Improved Social Compatibility + Physical Features replacement addon for Turn-Ons

Hello everybody ! 🤗

I was very interested in this new feature introduced in Growing Together, so I went to explore the game files to find out more about how it works, including the new Sim Characteristics preferences. And I found quite a few interesting things:

It’s not only the traits that are explicitly mentioned in the description that are taken into account, but also the aspiration related traits (Gregarious, Quick Learner…), liked activities, and even Snowy Escape Lifestyles.

The positive traits in relation to the Characteristic preference all have a high impact on compatibility (all at the same level, while some are certainly more secondary).

Negative traits in relation to the Characteristic preference have a low impact (3x lower) than negative traits.

Some traits are not used at all (Loyal, Squamish, Foodie, Glutton…), that’s also the case for some lifestyles.

Some Characterics preferences have a lot related traits, other only a few.

Some newer expansion packs were not included, like Horse Ranch.

That’s why I worked on a small mod to balance that better, include more traits & lifestyles, give relative importance to some of the traits and amplify the negative impact of other traits, and I also added the Character Value traits from Parenthood as I love playing with those. I tried to give more diversity and I based my decisions on the initial descriptions of the Sim Characteristics preferences.

Last update - 07/25/24 : Lovestruck, new traits added, should work fine for any patch after that

Download here: SimFileShare 🧩

I also added an addon to this mod to remplace Outfit Colors by Physical Features for Turn-On & Turn-Offs. This is a separate file as this is completely optional.

As this can be a rather sensitive topic, I fully understand why it wasn’t included by default with the pack, and I think it was the right decision. But since I like to create characters with a wide range of personalities, I needed them for narrative reasons (e.g. for more superficial characters who would have those kinds of preferences).

I replaced the Outfit Color preferences, as I know many of you won’t use them, to create those traits:

💪 Body Types: 4 preferences that correspond to a different combinations of the two fitness sliders

🧔 Facial Hair: the facial hair that are categorized ad length 1 (out of 3) are not considered for this one. If your sim has only a few hairs on the chin, it’s out of the scope

🐻 Body Hair: all levels of back hair, level 2 & 3 of chest hair, level 3 of arm of leg hair only. Only one item required.

💄 Make-Up: two items of make-up at least (I didn’t include eyelashes, as I know it will be used idependently of make-up)

👁️ Eye Color: blue, green or brown eyes. Unnatural eye colors are not included.

❤️‍🔥 Tattoos & Piercings: one item required, of course, earrings don’t count as piercings in this case.

At the moment, everything is translated in english, french, spanish and portugese. If you can help me with other translations, feel free to contact me, I can include that in a next release 🤗

Download here: SimFileShare 🧩

Light in the Darkness (4)

Abby Anderson X Fem!Reader, College AU, Part 4

Since part three was so short I am double posting, so when there is a small journal entry or “thought” chapter then there will usually be a double post because the content was so short.

But I’m not promising anything.

TW: Anxiety, overthinking.

PT. 3 PT. 5

Chapter 4–> Line Without a Hook, Ricky Montgomery, Week 12

Lyrics: “All my emotions feel like explosions when you are around

And I’ve found a way to kill the sound.”

Fuck Max, Tatum, and Bailey. Not literally, but figuratively. Why? Because now you’re in a small club with way too loud music, way too many flashing lights, and way too much of the smell of alcohol induced vomit that could very well be touching every nook and cranny of this hell hole. Of course, you did say yes, so it was partly your fault.

But you were still overstimulated, about ready to explode with anxiety. Tatum was already on the dance floor, dragging Max along behind her. Max was Tatum’s designated ‘gay’ best friend. They’ve always clicked, it’s like they share the same brain.

Bailey was with you, sitting at the bar. She wasn’t drinking, having been the next designated driver in the trio’s rotation. You offered to drive, but they all declined. Maybe it’s because you never went to bars or clubs with them, which was fine. They’ve never been your scene. But Max begged you to go, he felt bad because he thought you felt left out. Even though you explained that you didn’t feel left out, you said you’d go with them tonight.

“You good?” Bailey asked, leaning close to you so you could hear her over the music. Shrugging, you turn to look at the dance floor. There were a lot of people pressed close together, grinding, making out. You couldn’t find Max or Tatum anymore, but someone else caught your eye.

Owen, Abby’s ex-boyfriend. He was making his way through the crowd, stopping to grind on an unsuspecting woman. It was weird, maybe disgusting. Definitely disgusting. You had a weird feeling about him, even when you were bitching at him because of the Red Bull.

“I’m going out onto the floor,” Bailey said, catching your attention.

Nodding, you watch Bailey blend into the crowd. Turning back to the bar, you pulled out your phone. Pinterest seemed to be a good app to get your mind off of the club, cats being your choice of obsession.

“Hey, you’re Abby’s lab partner, right?” A voice too close to your ear caused you to flinch, scaring you from looking at a bright orange picture of a cat.

Turning your head, you saw a dark-skinned girl sitting on the stool next to you. Her body faced the crowd of sweaty college students, but her face was towards you.

“Yeah,” You frown, “Why?” Does Abby talk about you? You would probably be brought up because of her project, but hopefully nothing else would be brought up.

Abby’s friend widened her eyes, “Oh, she didn’t say anything bad, I promise.” She looked as if she let out some horrible secret, her deep brown eyes shifting away. “I’m Nora, I’d like to say I’m Abby’s best friend.”

You raised an eyebrow, not sure why she would approach you out of nowhere. Let alone at a club, and without Abby near. She already knew your name, which was weird considering Abby barely talked about her friends.

“Nice to meet you, is Abby here with you?” You ask, not trying to show your suspicion. It seemed to work, Nora visibly relaxing as she hummed, looking around the crowd.

“She is,” Nora said, “ She arrived a couple hours ago.”

Nodding, you bit your lip, “You brought Owen too?” You couldn’t hide the slight disgust tinting your voice.

Nora sighed, “He’s like the Scott Disick of our group.”

“God he looks like it.”

Nora smirked at your comment, then she pointed at the crowd, “There she is.” You follow the direction of her finger to see Abby. She was dancing with Owen, not seductively, more like she was trying to get away. Nora turned towards you, “I’m going to join them, hope to see you again.” She hopped off the stool, slightly jogging over to her two friends.

After Nora left, the music seemed to have gotten louder. It pounded through your skull, causing a fog in your brain. Looking around for a bathroom, you sighed in relief when you found one. It wasn’t too far away, just on the other side of the bar.

Making your way over, you cupped your hands over your ears to try to muffle the bass. You pushed the door open, surprised at how small the bathroom was. There were two small stalls on your right, a dingy light bulb flickering above your head. Both stalls were occupied, so you walked to the far side of the room, leaning your back against the wall.

As cramped as the room felt, it did muffle the music enough for you to gather our thoughts. You pulled your phone out again, going back to the pictures of cats to distract you from your anxiety. One of the stall doors opened, and you glanced up to see a woman with smeared lipstick and disheveled hair stagger out. She glanced at you, but then turned to pull the door open.

As she pulled the door, she kind of stumbled backwards. Someone was on the other side, pushing the door open. The girl caught herself, cussing as she held onto the stall door behind her. The other girl, who was pushing the door open, apologized, appearing as she walked in.

Abby was the other girl, peering at the drunken one hanging onto the stall door. The drunk girl stood up, glaring up at Abby. She pushed her way past the blonde, calling her a “sightless whore,” as the door closed behind her.

The blonde shook her head, turning away from the door to see you. Her hair was in her signature braid, some stands having fallen out, they were framing her face. Her cheeks were flushed, probably from the hot air from the outside, probably from the alcohol she’s consumed. Her blue eyes were blown wide, pupils almost overtaking her irises. She was wearing a cut-off black tee paired with green cargo pants and brown combat boots.

“Hey,” Abby murmured, a slur hinting at how drunk she may be. If she was blacked out, she definitely hid it well in front of you.

Giving a half-wave, you smile, “Didn’t think I’d see you here.”

“In the bathroom?”

“Sure, we could say that,” You laugh, noticing the light dust of pink overshadowing the flushness of her cheeks.

Abby frowned, looking around the dingy bathroom. “Do you want to get out of here?” She asked, placing a hand on the back of her head.

“I didn’t drive.”

The blonde pulled out a set of keys, “I did, but I need a driver.”

With a quick text to Max, you decided to drive Abby to your dorm. You didn’t really have a choice, Abby, having been more drunk than you anticipated, passed out in the passenger's seat as soon as you both got into her car.

The drive back to your dorm was brief. What wasn’t easy was trying to get Abby to stand up to get to the building’s elevator.

The girl was heavy, leaning on you as the elevator rose to the third floor. Abby didn’t smell entirely of alcohol, hints of cedar coming through. Her hair smelled of Pantene, which made some sense. Abby seems like the type to stare at the shampoos, remember Selena liked Pantene, and decide to go with that one.

The elevator doors opened, forcing you to hoist Abby further onto your shoulder as you practically dragged her.

“For how muscular you are, you sure as hell ain’t using any of them,” You grumble, half-dragging the blonde. Thankfully, your dorm wasn’t too far from the elevator, and you made it with minimal casualties. The only one being Abby’s hair tie, which you decided to hate as you vowed never to go back to save it.

Sliding your key card, you push the door open. Abby seemed to have gained a bit of control of her legs, kind of helping you out as you made your way to the couch. Your energy was depleting quickly at the sight of the couch, running on fumes as you dropped her onto it. She landed face first, and if anything hurt, she didn’t show it. Your muscles that were previously screaming at you, seemed relieved as you hunched over.

Turning, you went back to close your door and turn on the main lights. You and Max bought nightlights for the dorm, having both not liking how dark the rooms could get.

Abby grumbled, catching your attention as you made your way back to the couch. She turned over onto her back, blinking languidly. You crouch, taking her boots off.

“Where am I?” She asked as you finished getting her boots off.

You sat on the floor, leaning your back against the couch. Abby dragged herself into a sitting position, rubbing her eyes. She looked confused as she looked around, when her eyes met your face she seemed to have realized where she was. Her name left your lips, but nothing else.

“What?” You ask, staring at her ruffled hair that was quickly falling out of its braid.

Drearily, Abby patted the cushion beside her, “Sit with me.”

Standing up, you sat beside her, turning to face her. She was looking at you, back slightly hunched. You leaned forward, propping your elbows up onto your knees as you rested your head onto your hands.

“You’re so pretty,” Abby murmured, a hand slowly reaching up to touch your cheek.

She was drunk, she didn't know what she was doing. The heat that rose to your cheeks was embarrassing, a direct reaction to her touching you and her compliment. She was drunk, she couldn't be in the right state of mind. Abby leaned forward though, and you didn’t lean away. She was a couple inches now from your face. She had to be able to hear your heart racing, the loud thumping pounding in your ears.

“I mean it,” Abby whispered. “You’re so pretty.” Time slowed down as she leaned closer, her lips bridging the gap as she kissed you. Her lips weren’t chapped, having a minty taste to them. Abby kissed lightly, as if questioning you.

The blonde pulled away, suddenly looking sick. She leaned forward again, but this time not to kiss you. Instead, she puked onto your lap.

Posted on: 4/21/23

WC: 1,732

76 notes View Post

artsyclxwn

1 year ago

Consider, RZ Michael and Thomas with a s/o who likes to play with their hair. Like braiding it or just absent minded playing with it

Sorry this took so long!! I wrote and rewrote it so many times over the past couple days tryin' to get it right. Still not the happiest with it but I hope it's what you had in mine!

Summary: RZ Michael and Thomas with a s/o who likes to play with their hair.

Warnings: Suggested NSFW-ish, mentions of abuse and bullying

Wordcount: 1.5k

Consider, RZ Michael And Thomas With A S/o Who Likes To Play With Their Hair. Like Braiding It Or Just

Michael Myers

Not gonna lie to ya chief, Michael doesn’t strike me as the kind of dude to give a flying fuck what happens to his hair. Or his body. Like, the dude gets shot, stabbed, slashed, burned throughout all the movies. I highly doubt his hair would be where he drew the line.

But, the act itself is intimate, personal. That IS something he gives a fuck about. It unnerves him. Years of isolation, cruelty from staff, harsh touches, and rough treatment? Getting close enough to even raise a hand to him without his own snatching your wrist into a vice grip would take time and patience. A lot of it.

Once your relationship with him finally grew enough, and he allowed your touch without smacking away your hand or walking out the door, you could get away with a lot when it comes to him.

Michael’s never had someone to touch him tenderly besides his mama all those years ago. So touch him with love, with care. The fucked up wires in his brain would uncross, reconnect and he’d eventually realize how much he actually enjoyed it. He’d soak it up like a sponge.

Now, playing with his hair? That all started out as something you would do when you could wrangle him onto the couch to watch a movie or a show with you in the evenings when he wasn’t prowling around the neighborhood. Always bribing him at first. “I’ll buy you a bag of Reese’s if you watch a movie with me,” or “I’ll make you a cherry pie if you sit with me while I work.” Every time, your hands would twitch when his hair brushed over his shoulders, when it swayed as he turned to look at you. Your thoughts filled with “What if’s” and ”What’s it like-”

It made watching the movie or focusing on whatever you were working on a nightmare.

Of course, in the end, you couldn’t resist touching it. Once you’d forced him into the habit of showering and using hair products, the blonde locks that sprouted from his head looked like gold strands of silk. And it felt like it too. It didn’t take long for your resolve to break down. He watched you like a hawk the first time your fingertips grazed his hair, piercing baby blues peering down at you. They’d shift to your hands for only a second, unnoticed by you, then back to your face. The only time people had touched his hair was when he was getting man-handled in Smith’s Grove, or when victims were trying to claw their way out of his grasp, desperate hands fisting into the silicone mask and catching his hair in the process.

But you weren’t them, and he wasn’t in Smith’s Grove anymore. You were the one who bought him candy and made him pies, so he let you sink your hands in and brush away those memories with every stroke.

Sometime down the line, if you're really lucky and hummed whatever melody came to mind in a soft enough voice, pressed the pads of your fingers into his scalp nice and slow, his eyes would close and his shoulders would just barely sag.

But only sometimes, it is Michael after all.

Congrats, you trained the boogeyman to let you touch his hair! After that, he wouldn’t care if you braided pieces of it, it’s not any different than you running your hands through it in his book, If you left them in and tied them off, he won’t take them out until he finally showers. The only reason he’d tug them out is if they got in the way or made his mask sit funny. Other than that, expect to see them when he comes home after hunts all frazzled and out of place.

Thomas Hewitt

Thomas is a whole different story though. This man was bullied his entire life, called all the names in the book, hit and beat by students and teachers alike. He was undeniably called a sissy, weak like a girl, every other bullshit insult towards femininity in the book. C’mon, it’s Texas. While braids aren’t inherently feminine, the only people he saw at school for the short time he was there wearing braids was the girls in his class, sporting lil' pigtail braids.

Because of all this, braids would mainly be off the table for him. Especially when Hoyt stormed into your shared bedroom one time and let out a slew of crude jokes at Tommy’s expense. He’d probably let you get away with it if you and him alone, just the two of you. Hidden away from Hoyt’s yappin’ and howlin’ in the basement, or laid somewhere on a blanket in a field under an old oak. But before anyone at home could lay eyes on em’, to your dismay, he’d softly pry them out. He’d be feeling really guilty about ruining such fine work though.

Just running your hands through his hair though? Petting his head, fixing any stray fly always with your cute hands on him? He’s fine with that. Absolutely fine with it. Hell, he’d practically melt every time.

It’d always start in the mornings when the early rays of sun start to peek through the curtains over the windows. They’d slowly shift through the old room as the next hour passes, finally tilting through the glass window panes just enough to kiss his face and start to rile him from his sleep. He’d always give a heavy sigh when stirring from whatever dream he was gifted, somehow always feeling like he didn’t seem to get enough rest. Then again maybe that’s just what farm life is like. Especially when he’s been the only real able-bodied adult in the house. Luda Mae and Hoyt can still get around, but all the tuff labor gets shucked onto his shoulders, and after so many years of it he can’t help but be a little worn down.

You’d be next rise from your joint slumber. Waking up with Tommy would mean waking up curled into his side with his arm around you, holding you against his warm body. Now and then your leg is found tangled in his, but almost always your arm would be limp, situated over his stomach. You’d stretch your fingers and try to blink away the drowsiness in your eyes while tilting your head back to look at him, hoping one day you’d catch him asleep. No luck this time. Droopy brown eyes would be looking down at you with adoration, the arm around you pulling you almost impossibly closer while his thumb rubs circles into the soft flesh on your back.

Another few minutes would pass, and you’d find yourself laying on his belly, either by your own will or by his. A low hum would rumble through his thick chest as you slid your dominant hand up and through his chest hair, ever further till you reached his face. He is eyes would flutter close when your hands brushed against the scruff of his cheeks, and a sigh would have your body fall with his chest once they made purchase in his choppy brown hair. They’d dance through the gentle waves, and you’d feel him press into your touch, sighing as your fingertips slid against his scalp in mesmerizing ways.

Of course, it only lasted till someone started howlin’ Tommy’s name. But throughout the day you’d find moments when your hands could sink into his hair.

One is when you’d walk out to the barn with a cool glass of lemonade to give him while he works on fixing up one of the stalls. He’d set whatever he had in his hands down and take a seat on a nearby bale of hay, the furrow in his brow melting away when you hand him the glass. While he sipped on it you’d make idle conversation, your fingers finding themselves into their favorite spot.

Another is after dinner, whenever Luda Mae asks the two of you to clean up and handle the dishes. Thomas always insisted on washing, not wanting your hands getting dirtied unnecessarily. Forever stuck on drying duty. So for the first few minutes of him starting the water and getting everything soaked in the water, you’d steal the opportunity to hop up on the counter and scoot yourself as close to him as you could, hands reaching towards his hair as they always do.

That favorite, intoxicating feeling of it sliding through your fingers was usually bested by the soft groan of pleasure from the man that usually followed. It was an addicting little sound.

And sometimes it got you in the best kind of trouble.

385 notes View Post

artsyclxwn

4 months ago

— come on and show me

[part ii | part iii | masterlist]

logan howlett x f!reader x wade wilson

rated e - 5.5k

tags: Logan POV, MMF threesome, jealous!logan, reader is wade's girl, mutual pining/crushes all around, voyeurism, dirty talk, open relationship, oral sex, fingering, Logan doms both of them, 69ing, fucklicking, ball worship, come eating, PiV

a/n: I want them to kiss and I also want them to kiss reader to here this is! 💕

Right now, all he can hear is Wade running his goddamn mouth. Drowning out the sounds you make - so fuckin’ pretty, and the prick is too busy listening to himself to appreciate it.

There’s one thing that Logan knows for sure - and it’s that Wade’s not doing it right. Not like he would.

(or - Logan tries to shut Wade up, and it doesn’t quite go as expected)

Logan can hear Wade from here.

Running that goddamn mouth already, and the sun’s only barely up.

Can hear you, too. The little whimpers that you try bite back. He can imagine the way your teeth sink into your lip - the thought has him shifting in his chair, breakfast forgotten.

So fuckin’ pretty, and the prick is too busy listening to himself to appreciate it.

Knows he could make you even louder, too. It’s almost like he’s at the mansion again, looking at another toy he can’t touch.

What a waste.

The sounds crescendo, the chanting of a name layered with that endless babble that makes his teeth grind, before the sound breaks.

Trying not to look interested when the door opens a few minutes later. Snatching up the newspaper that’s been sitting on the cluttered tabletop for a month now, flicking it open.

Ignoring how Wade strolls out, adjusting the waistband on a pair of grey sweats that are hanging way too low on his hips for comfort.

Rummaging around for a bottle of water, the glow of the fridge illuminating the curve of his ass. The cut of the pants look familiar, Logan's eyes narrowing as he wonders if those are his missing pair-

The edge of the paper flicking up again into place again, just as Wade stretches - bending further, before the bottle is snatched from the back.

Logan huffs.

“Hey roomie,” Wade hums, flicking the cap at him. It sails through the air, disappearing into his forgotten cup of coffee with a little 'plunk', “Don’t let me interrupt that killer Ed Tom Bell impression you’ve got going on, just hydrating for round two.”

“Ooh,” A cock of his hip, as he turns - head tilting as he thinks, “Does that make me Josh Brolin? God, I love him.”

“That’s all?” Logan’s eyebrows lift as he sneers - ignoring another reference he doesn’t understand, “Been going at it for a while.”

As soon as he says it, he regrets it. Opening himself up for an attack. He can already hear the sing-song response at the admittance that he’s been listening.

Screwing the Pavlovian pooch, with the way that he's more than aware that his dick’s half-hard. The result of taking care of himself one too many times - an attempt at getting himself back to sleep, pretending that he isn’t jerking himself off to the beat of the frame that bangs against the walls.

Luckily, Wade zeros in on the exact wrong part. Sputtering, as water drips down his chin, “That’s all? What do you mean, that’s all?”

“You heard me,” The paper crinkles in his fist, “In fact, I’m surprised you even got round one off. Much less that she’s sticking around for another.”

“You wound me, and yet, flatter.” Wade’s hand flattens over his heart, “I never knew you thought about me like that.”

“I haven’t been thinking about you, you ass,” Logan snarls, teeth bared, “I just know that if you’re talking, then you’re not doing it right.”

Wade grins at that, teeth scraping over his lower lip as they stretch wide.

Eyes flicking over his form, assessing in a way that has Logan bristling - voice going syrupy-smooth, “Is that right? You think you can do better, mutton chops?”

The breath he inhales is ragged. That feeling back again - an urge to curl his hand around Wade’s throat, and squeeze.

“Yeah,” Logan growls out, “Yeah, I fucking do.”

The table shakes as Wade plops himself down on the edge, a leg crossing over the other. Interest gleaming in his eyes as his head tilts towards the bedroom door.

“Alright. Bring on the magic tricks, Angier.” His hands splay wide, wiggling, “Gonna show me how to make your fingers disappear?”

Logan glares, his eyes flicking down to where the fleece pulls across his hips.

“Right.” He spits, “Like you’ve got another in you?”

“Hey now, pookums. Marvel Jesus, remember?” Wade’s hand makes a sweeping gesture in front of his crotch, “Just give me three minutes and I’ll have risen.”

“That’s disgusting.” Logan barks, “And get off the table.”

If anything, it makes Wade sit harder. His legs pivoting until he can spread his thighs on either side of the paper, ankles dangling off the edge.

“Disgusting?” His tone pitches up, “Says the man that’s rocking a stiffy. Gonna jerk it at the breakfast table when I leave? You know Blind Al eats there.”

The paper twitches reflexivity in his hands, and Wade’s smile pulls wider as Logan shoots him a death glare, lips curling over teeth.

“Why the fuck would I do something like that?”

Wade hums, “Call it an educated wish.”

“Call it an educated get-the-fuck-out-of-here.” Logan scoffs. His eyes flicking towards the bedroom, the door still shut, “You’re talking like she wants this.”

Wade’s finger presses at the edge of the newspaper he’s hiding behind, and Logan bats his hand away.

He’s still not gotten used to all the skin, he doesn’t know where to look. The slightest shift back in his chair, but he’s already pressed up against the wall.

“Oh please, as if we don’t take turns roleplaying as you,” Wade sighs longingly, “This would be a wet dream come true.”

His eyes narrow then, as his tongue runs across his lip. Voice dropping again, coaxing.

“Look,” Wade says it like he’s leveling with him - talking man-to-man,“If you wanted to fuck her, peanut, all you had to do was ask.”

And for a moment, Logan truly considers it. Not just the fantasy that’s been playing through his head for weeks.

Weirder shit has happened, he supposed.

He’s already been claw-deep into Wade’s guts. A brawl in that shitty van that lasted until morning. Bound tip-to-tip in the void for god knows how long.

Getting walked in on in the bathroom at least twice in the last month. A gleeful “mind if I cut in?”, before Logan’s fist is sending him into the vanity.

The last time it took a full week to get the sink fixed.

Not to mention that Wade apparently seems so certain that his clothes were now their clothes.

So fucking keen on sharing.

So it wasn’t a stretch to think he might want to share you, too.

There’s something caught between his teeth, heavy on his tongue. About to loosen, when the door is opening.

Swallowing them down as you step through, thighs bare under a too-big t-shirt. Arms wrapping around Wade’s shoulders as your lips press against his cheek.

“Thought you were coming back, Red.” You coo. Drawn out by the sound of bickering as you had basked in your afterglow.

“Morning, Logan.” A smile sent his way after, turning sheepish, “You’re up early. Hope we didn’t wake you.”

He grunts in reply. Pretending there wasn’t a little jolt in his stomach at the sound of his name. That he hadn’t been thinking about spreading you across this table, lifting the hem of your shirt up-

If he’d been in your bed, no one would have had to wonder.

The whole damn floor would’ve been woken up.

“He thinks I fuck bad, so I’m gonna prove he’s wrong,” Wade adds in, cheerfully, “That okay with you, gorgeous?”

Logan glares over the top of his paper. A rough clearing in his throat as your eyebrows lift, glancing his way.

He hadn’t really meant to bring you into this, or at least, that’s what he’s telling himself.

That eye contact dropping, as you lean into Wade, your chin propped on his shoulder, “Is that right? How are you going to do that?”

Logan’s answer comes out flat, as he examines an ad in the bottom corner of the page,“I’m not doing anything.”

Wade sighs, his head knocking back against your shoulder.

“Come on, Wolvie. I would love for you to prove me wrong,” He needles, digging deep, “Put your money where my cock should be.”

Logan still doesn’t look up, “Not interested, I’m busy.”

The sigh that pulls from his lungs is long, a near-whine.

“What, with reading?” He exclaims, “Jesus you really are old. The retirement home called, they’re missing a resident.”

Logan’s eyes snap up now, narrowing, “Fuck. Off.”

With a sigh, Wade fucks off. Legs curling, until he’s rolling off the table. Your hand fitting in his, a water bottle tucked under your arm as you head back towards the room.

“The offer still stands!” He calls.

A beat, before you turn.

“Logan?” You call, as he’s helpless - his eyes pulling away. Drawn to you.

A little wink sent his way. Your finger gesturing towards his chest, as you smile.

“Your paper’s upside down.”

Logan’s still not quite sure how he got here. His feet moving on his own, fingers catching the bedroom door just as it starts to close.

Almost backing out when he sees the look of Wade’s face, pleased as fucking punch.

Standing by the edge of the bed now, as you kneel on it in front of him. Fingers slipping across his chest - curious, with the way your eyes flicker over his face. Eager, though you hide it well.

“So what exactly did you tell Wade to get him so worked up?” Your fingers twine around his neck, as his find your hips.

He hums at that - flicking towards his roommate before they find yours again.

“All I said was that if I can hear his mouth running from out there,” Logan’s fingers dent into soft skin, tugging you closer, “He can’t be doing a good job.”

There’s a shift off to the side. Wade sinking down into the beanbag chair he pulled up,“Can you believe that? As if I don’t have a good grade in my oral and my dickabilties.”

“A gold star, babe.” You shoot him a tender smile, before they focus on Logan again. Shoulder lifting, as your grin grows, “I mean, Merc with a Mouth, right? Seems like part of the package.”

He huffs, eyes dropping to your lips.

“You think it’s good,” Logan’s tone is almost pitying, “But it’s only because you haven’t had better.”

That pulls a gasp from your throat, eyebrows lifting.

“Yeah, I think you’re trying to emasculate me, but honestly…” Wade’s hand splays wide over his crotch, “Sploosh.”

“Sploosh.” You echo softly, and he can feel you shift closer. Can smell the fresh curl of arousal that heats your skin, as his hands ghost higher. A small smile, as your head tilts, “So you just all talk then, or…”

“No.” Logan scoffs, “No, I’m not.”

He closes the gap, more certain now. Mouth pressing against yours, as you squeak - tense in his arms, until you go liquid.

Soft tits pressed to his chest as his tongue sweeps against your lips. Swallowing a pretty moan as they part for him, his own groan rumbling in his chest as his hands wander.

Slipping down, ghosting against skin. Feeling the goosebumps that rise, as he draws circles against your hip. His name whimpered, and it shoots straight to his cock.

Not even a heartbeat, before the chatter begins.

“Bet your pussy’s wet already, isn’t it baby?” He coos, “A kiss like that, it’s even got me a little worked up. And I’m just producing this show.”

Logan’s eyes crack open as he glares, “You’re not producing shit, asshole.”

“Ooh, I bet you SO wish you worded that in a different way-”

You huff against his mouth, your touch guiding him back. The thought lingers, curiosity burning. Letting his fingers toy with the hem of your shirt, knuckles brushing your thigh.

Tracing around to the curve of your ass, his wide palm splaying out, then squeezing against bare flesh.

“Is he right?” He rasps, his lips brushing against yours. Half-hating that he’s letting Wade get in his head, but the thought-

You gasp again, and his teeth flash with his smirk, “Are you wet for me already, sweetheart?”

“She’s been since she first saw you. Goddamn Niagara Falls,” Wade’s voice has softened - teasing now, “Isn’t that right, gorgeous?”

An amused shake of your head, as something silent passes between them. Logan doesn’t pretend to know how your relationship works - other than the fact that Wade was willing to do anything to save this world for you.

And that there’s something inside him that tightens - a flicker in his belly - whenever he looks at you. Whenever Wade flirts with him. That sharp annoyance from their meeting slowly bleeding out with each day goes by.

Something else taking root, the more time he spends with both of you. He’s not good with his emotions. Doesn’t want to name that ache when he saw you together.

A silent wish, with his shifting daydreams. With the jerk of his fist in the morning. Imaging you in his bed, at first. And then, more - two sets of hands. Two mouths at his cock, and then he’s suddenly coming harder than he has before.

He’s become greedy, the more you both give him.

“Show me.” It’s a command, soft and low.

Logan can feel your thighs press together, that little squirm. Tucking this new discovery away as you lean back, eyes dark with desire.

The briefest hesitance, before your fingers loosen from him. Slipping down, under the hem of your shirt. The nails on your other hand bite into his shoulder as you sigh - two fingers gliding through the wet folds of your pussy.

Pulling them back for him to see. Glistening, your arousal stringing between them. His hand is already curling around your wrist. No resistance as he tugs - guiding your fingers past his lips as they part.

Sucking the sweet taste of you as he groans, deep in his chest. Eyes fixed on yours so he can see the way yours widen, feeling how your fingers flex against the swipe of his tongue.

“Logan.” You sigh his name, and it only makes his moan - eyes shutting as you press down against his tongue. The need slipping into your voice, pleading.

“I wanna feel your mouth. Show me, too,” You sigh, as you slip from him, “Show me what you meant.”

Christ, he’s been aching for this. Eager to drown himself in your pussy, if you’d let him.

There’s a sharp clap that forces his eyes open. Wade’s enthusiasm as he drags the bag closer, chin cradled in his hands.

“Yeah, Logan. You gonna show us your dickabilites, or what?”

He shoots him a withering look. Softening before he turns to you, his chin tipping up.

“Lay back on the bed for me, sweetheart.”

You listen so sweetly, and it makes his cock throb. A quick dart of your eyes over to your boyfriend, who only nods.

“Take that off, baby,” Wade coos, “Show him how pretty you are.”

He’s not sure when he started letting Wade make orders, but for once he’s not wanting to argue about his suggestions.

Because fuck, you are pretty. No arguing with that.

Letting his eyes sweep over every inch that is revealed, as you lift the hem of your shirt. The curve of your hips, your soft tits that he can’t wait to get his mouth on.

Baring yourself, as you lean back against the pillows. His eyes are fixed on your cunt, already fitting himself between your thighs. Fingers reaching - ready to part you open. Taste you himself, bury his tongue inside you.

Your hand reaches out, pushing against his shoulder.

“Wait, you too.” You pout, “Let’s play fair, okay?”

He huffs, lips quirking. Hands catching the hem as he tugs his own shirt off, Wade diving for it as he tossed it towards the floor.

Twin gasps rise, and if he was a much younger man, he may have blushed.

“Fuck.” Wade groans, a hand dropping down his crotch and squeezing.

You’re already leaning forward, a hand flattening against his skin. A soft "wow" slipping from your lips - feeling the way his muscles jump as you slide over his pecs, the thick hair covering them.

A hand hooking around his shoulder - a smirk hidden as you tug him down on top of you.

Soft, beneath him. Those needy whines he loves so much caught between your teeth as he noses at your neck. Teeth nipping at skin, an urge to leave a mark for later.

That cry finally loosened as he moves down. Teeth and tongue biting and soothing at the tight peaks of your nipples. Broad hands cupping and squeezing, liking the way they fit in his palms. The way you moan, arching into his touch.

“Give me more of that,” He murmurs against your skin, "I want to hear you."

Your body tensing beneath his when he settles between your thighs. They have to spread, to fit his shoulders. Opening you up, putting you on display.

Watching how you clench - a throaty chuckle as his thumb presses just shy of your folds. Tugging you open, seeing how your skin glistens with slick already.

“Pretty fucking sight, you know that?” His eyes flip up to yours.

You’re propped up on your elbows. Teeth sinking into your lip, breath held as your eyebrows slant in anticipation. Lips parting with his words, a minute shift of your hips.

“You should see it when it’s stuffed full. Boston cream's got nothing on her."

There’s an embarrassed groan of his name. Logan ignores him - letting his thumb rub against the tight nub of your clit, instead. Your word turning into a sharp, inhaled breath.

Teasing, each circle achingly slow. Aware of the two sets of eyes on him, burning his skin. A low ache in his belly, his glaze fixing on yours, watching as you inhale as his mouth lowers.

A soft lick, tongue lapping against your slit. Tasting you more thoroughly, dragging against soaked skin, as his fingers tease at your entrance.

Focusing on your clit, tight flicks with his tongue. Letting his lips suck on the tight bud, as he sinks down to one knuckle, then another. A second finger slipping in once you get used to him, making room for himself as he scissors you open.

He can hear the soft, wet sound of your cunt, with each plunge of his fingers. Flexing and curling them until he can feel you clamp down.

The quiet sounds you make - soft breaths and gasps - turning louder. Panting now, as you whine. Hips lifting to meet the curl of his tongue, until he pulls back.

“Should be hearing this,” Logan grits out. A quick glance towards Wade as his fingers pound into you, “Not you talking out of your ass.”

There’s silence for a long moment, the words coming out distracted.

“You talk about my ass an awful lot for a man who pretends he's not interested,” Wade manages, slowly, “You change your mind about that, too?”

His breath shallow, as Logan growls in annoyance. Attention returning back to you. Fingers working faster, head dropping again to tongue at your clit.

A leg hooks over his shoulder - a heel digging into his back, tugging him closer. Logan loses himself - growling into your pussy. His own hips pressing down into the bed, as he tugs at his belt and button, relieving the too-tight ache of denim.

Feeling how you leak against his palm, tighten around his fingers. Chase that winding pleasure as you arch into his mouth. A hand drifting off the bed, reaching. Grasping.

“Logan.” You’re begging again, pleading. For more, for anything. For him not to stop, and he leans into the way you tug at his hair, guiding him to the right spot.

You come with your fingers entwined with Wade’s. With your thighs clamped against Logan's ears as he rips a cry from you - long and loud - threatening to suffocate him.

Would be the way he’d choose to die, if he could.

The sounds come flooding back, as your thighs loosen. Boneless and languid, your smile wide as your fingers trace his scruff, the sharp curve of his jaw.

Perhaps he was wrong, to think he could silence Wade entirely. Your orgasm has only made him more vocal - complaints about how “fucking hard he is” mixing with rambling praise.

“Wilson.” He finds himself growling. Beckoning with two fingers, as Wade practically springs from the bag.

“Oh my GOD,” Wade is gushing, clambering onto the bed with him, “This is way better than joining the Avengers. Even if they do have Thor.”

“Huge praise.” You smile drunkenly, pushing yourself up to press your mouth against his.

And under his direct instructions, Logan finds that Wade almost listens.

“Get on your back,” He points, as you scooch to make room.

"Ooh, dirty." Wade grins, splaying out on his back, hands tucked under his head.

“No,” Logan makes a frustrated sound - ignoring another comment. A twirl of his finger, “The other way.”

His head is cradled near your hips now, legs stretched out toward the pillows.

Logan’s next words are a growl, “Now, clean her up.”

Wade groans, as he catches up.

“Fuck.” He whines, “Yeah. Come here, baby.”

Hands guiding you into place, your knees framing his head, as you face towards the headboard. Wade’s mouth already tipping up to meet you, a soft moan as his tongue swipes against your slit.

“I don’t want to hear you until she comes.” Logan rasps, and he can see the way Wade’s hips lift.

Just now catching the darkened fabric, where it tents.

Another thing to catalog.

Content for now to let his hands drift as he stands behind you at the edge of the bed, his chest pressing to your back. Sucking a mark in the hollow under your ear, feeling the buzz of your whine against his lips.

Hands cupping your breasts again, feeling their weight. Pinching at the tight peaks, before his thumb is smoothing over them.

Your eyes are blown wide, fingers curling against your thighs. Panting as the overstimulation tips towards pleasure, the feel of the sweet mouth below you soft and familiar.

Shifting as you sit, rocking back to where Logan’s cock presses against your lower back. His hands tugging at the zipper, shoving his jeans down as he works himself free. Kicking them off, after.

You gasp when you see him from over your shoulder, and he can’t help the way he twitches in his hand at the sound. Can’t pretend he isn’t leaking from tasting you, his cock heavy as he lets go to let it hang between his thighs.

“Fuck, that’s not fair.” It’s muffled, and you hum in agreement as Wade lifts you to get a better look, “God didn’t make you perfect enough as-is? Just had to make you proportional, you goddamn stallion.”

A derisive sound as his arm wiggles out from under you, fingers reaching.

“And Jesus H. Christ, look at the girth-”

Logan bats his hand away.

It should annoy him. That Wade isn’t listening. That he’s commenting on his cock - but it doesn’t.

Can’t help but think that in here, in this room, the chatter isn’t so bad. Would never admit that he’s wrong, just that when he’s admiring and not on a dumb-as-fuck tangent, it’s almost - flattering.

Maybe that’s too far. Tolerable, perhaps.

“You want my mouth?” You offer sweetly, breaking into his thoughts. Hungrily.

There’s a flash of white teeth as Logan smiles. A hand pressing gently against your back, until you’re stretched out over Wade.

“No. I’m still gonna fuck you, baby.” He rasps, “Just wanted a little peace and quiet while doing it.”

You moan, thighs inching wider. Head turned so you can watch the way he moves behind you. Adjusting your hips until your ass is in the air, his fingers gripping the base of his cock as he lines himself up.

“Keep going, Wilson.” He grits out, when the man goes still beneath them.

A rough chuckle rattles.

“Not a fucking chance, human tripod. I am SO watching this.”

Fuck it. He lets him.

Letting the tip of his cock press against your entrance. Wade’s arms curling around your thighs, holding you in place as you string tight above him.

“God, it’s even bigger from this angle. Feels like I’m in a goddamn eclipse right now.”

“Why do you sound surprised, babe?” Your voice is strained. Face buried against Wade’s stomach, fingers curled in the sheets, “I thought you guys fucked in the void.”

That fleeting curl of warmth leaves him.

“We what?” Logan growls, leaning back to glare at the peek of dark brown eyes, the top of a bald head he wants to slap.

Teeth bared, as he snarls, “We didn’t fuck. I beat the shit out of him in a goddamn van.”

“All night long.” Wade laughs - and then sighs fondly, “And isn’t that just the same thing?”

Fingers encircle his cock from below before he can retort, squeezing. A tug as he guides him into the tight clench of your pussy, and Logan thinks he really should just shove his claws into Wade’s dick.

But that desire bleeds away, as you stretch around him. The twin groans from beneath him, the sounds blending together.

“Oh,” You moan, clenching around him. Back arching, as he slips in another inch, “Makes sense. Was… was just wondering why it took you so long to join us.”

Logan goes still for a moment, with this new information. A realization that he could have had this the whole time, if he had asked.

That Wade hadn’t been joking before.

He groans, hips snapping forward. A grunt below as your knees squeeze against Wade’s throat, but from the way you squirm, Logan can tell that his mouth is at work again.

Teasing at your clit, as his own hips slowly start to move. Feet planting on the bedroom floor as his hands fit against your waist.

Using the leverage to drive himself deep. Hips flush as his balls slap against your skin, growing sticky with your release.

“This is hot, this is so fucking hot,” Wade groans, babbling as he sucks in a breath, “I’m so going to jerk my dick raw thinking about this later.”

And with the reminder, he supposes he can throw his roommate a bone.

“Come on, baby,” Logan rasps - reaching. A little nudge against your chin, angling your head, “Looks like he needs a little help.”

It’s benevolent. It’s selfish - his fingers biting into skin as you realize what he means. Watching as you tug at the waistband of Wade’s sweatpants, pushing them down.

The man moans, from between your thighs. Sweet nothings mumbled as your hand wraps around his cock, angling it into your waiting mouth.

Watching how the leaking tip presses into your cheek. The buck of his hips as you fist moves, while you suck - your spit slicking up his cock.

It looks like the rest of him. Mottled skin, the tip flushed a deeper shade of red. Long and thick in your hand - Logan’s cock throbbing at the way you swallow him down, how your lips part to make him fit.

His pace picking up. Pounding into your tight, wet cunt as Wade groans against your clit. Tongue lapping and licking, winding you higher as Logan drives you towards a second.

Slowly drifting, as the flicks of his tongue grow longer. The tip pressing against your folds, as you groan around his cock.

Further down. Tasting the tang of your release - the salt of skin where you’re split open, stretched wide.

And then further. Logan jerks, as something wet drags along his shaft.

“Wade.” It comes out as a rough growl. Pitching into a huffing whine when it happens again, flattening against the heavy weight of his balls.

Choking him, as his rhythm stutters. Hips flexing into you as he grinds himself flush, teeth gritting.

“Fuck.” It’s hushed, pulled from his lungs.

Having to find himself again - hold back the urge to come right that second - as you squirm beneath him. Wade’s tongue traveling from your clit to the tight seam of his sack, his hips rocking in your mouth.

Finding a rhythm together, Logan’s head tilting back. The room filled with lewd sounds of their joining, of wet mouths and the rhythmic pounding of the headboard against the wall.

Lucky that Al was out for the morning, or else they’d never hear the end of it.

Your cries pitch up, as his cock drags against the spot his fingers found. Something clenching deep in his guts, eyes dragging down to how you look wrapped around him. The pink peek of tongue beneath, how the combination makes his toes curl.

Imagining another morning. Sharing you in another way, his cock buried in your ass while your lover fills your cunt. Whimpering between them, unable to form words.

The sound you make now are not that different - the cadence of your panting is one he’s coming to recognize.

“You close, sweetheart?” He rasps, arcing over you, “Can feel your pussy clenching around me. So fucking tight, can’t wait to feel you come all over my cock.”

It pulls a moan from you, head lifting from Wade’s cock. Resting against his stomach, as your hand wraps around him. The jerk of your fist messy, off rhythm.

“Yeah, you are.” Logan hums, as his hips rut into you, “Come on, Wilson. Make our girl come.”

There’s a rough groan. Wade listens for once, head tilting to suck at your clit. Logan concentrating on the angle that makes you cry out, a hand fisting in the sheets.

Their names a mumbled mess on your lips, as you’re yanked higher and higher. Your moans pitching up, growing louder.

Just like his dreams. Even better, really.

“Please,” You whine, “I’m, I’m-”

A high-pitched gasp, then, as your face buries against Wade’s hips. As your pussy clamps down around his cock, fluttering with the steady saw of his hips.

“Good fucking girl.” The praise is soft, as his thumbs rub circles against your skin, “That’s it, let him taste how sweet you are.”

Working together, the tight licks against your clit going lazy again. Dipping to your entrance to taste your release against his shaft, Wade’s cock leaking and bobbing against his stomach.

Drawing out your pleasure, until the stars fade from your half-lidded eyes. Until the rushing in your veins ebb, and the pulse around his cock fades.

A low sigh, before Logan’s reaching - his chin tucking against your shoulder. His hand curling around yours, guiding it back to Wade's cock.

“Don’t forget about him.” Another command, but gentle this time. His hand moving with yours, palm mapping your knuckles as he sets a rhythm, “There you go.”

He could let go. You’ve found yourself again, eyes hazy. But he keeps his hand there. Keeps a pace that is so much firmer than your own, his own hips matching the rhythm as he chases his own end.

Wade’s groan replaces yours. A hand leaving your thigh to wrap around his, biting down hard into muscle. It only drives him deeper into you. Logan’s own moan bitten back as the tongue against his dick slips against his sack again.

Then against the thin layer of skin just behind, teasing.

“Fuck.” It’s a rough growl.

His hand works faster, teeth gritting. Feral sounds caught in his throat, as the pressure in his belly grows.

The last thing he sees before he comes is the drips of white against his knuckles. The warmth, a ragged groan against the inside of his thigh. Your mouth closing around to catch the rest, taking Wade’s cock into your throat with a soft sigh.

It robs him of his breath. A shuddering moan, as he grinds himself deep. Spilling into you again and again with each pulse of his cock, blood rushing in his ears.

Legs threatening to give as he empties himself, as his chest presses flush against your back. His face buried in your hair, as your tongue traces his knuckles. Cleaning them, as he did for you.

When he can, Logan eases from you with a grunt. Watching how you gape, then clench, now empty.

A bead of his release welling up, dripping against your skin. You go to move, but Wade’s hands curl around your calves - pulling you flush.

It’s hard to look away, as he licks away Logan’s come. A sharp ache of desire with the sound of a needy groan, as his tongue dipping inside.

Maybe Wade doesn’t have such a bad mouth, after all.

Logan’s arm is numb, but he can’t bring himself to move. Can’t remember a time when he’d let his brain turn off like this. A brief moment of silence, and it’s bliss. His world standing still.

“So that’s how you do it.” You muse quietly, dizzily. Head cradled against his chest - fingers dragging through the hair, gently scratching.

A stirring on his other side, where Wade is using his bicep like a pillow.

“Mm, I don’t think I got it,” Wade counters, but it’s soft - hazy at the edges. “Think I missed a couple steps. Was that round two or three?

"Three," You say - as Logan grunts, "Two."

The fingers on his chest drift down, dipping over his stomach.

“Well, either way...” You hum, snuggling a little closer, “Maybe you oughta show us, one more time.”

Wade flips over then, chin propped in his hand, “At least. Maybe even twice. We’re bad learners, peanut. Dumb as fucking rocks, really.”

“Mhmm,” You sigh, “Really dumb. Can't even count.”

And he can’t stop the twitch of his lips, even with his eyes closed. Had forgotten what it was like to be warm like this.

To be wanted.

And maybe, he even feels… content.

Something he never thought he’d be, again.