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angelshadowsinger · 1 year

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𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Azriel x f!reader

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 8.8k

𝐂𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐫𝐲: smut, & a lil dosage of fluff at the end

𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐬:

dirty talk, heavyyy praise kink, oral(f receiving), implied size kink, light breeding kink, creampie, cum play, a little overstim, Az is a fuckin freak, sweeeeet aftercare 💗

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲:

Azriel hears that no one has ever made you orgasm before, and makes it his mission to show you what you've been missing... again and again.

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞:

y'all this is narstyyyyy nasty... as in, absolute filth. literal prawn. the most detailed smut i have ever written... probably too much detail. be warned.

･゜゜・．｡･゜゜・．｡･ﾟﾟ･．｡･゜゜・．｡･ﾟﾟ･

ɴᴏᴛɪᴄᴇ: ʙʏ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴘᴀꜱᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴇʟᴏᴡ ꜱɪᴘʜᴏɴ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴇʀᴛɪꜰʏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴏᴠᴇʀ 18 ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀ ᴍɪɴᴏʀ. ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ʙᴇʏᴏɴᴅ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴘᴏɪɴᴛ ᴍᴀʏ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴ ɴꜱꜰᴡ ᴛʜᴇᴍᴇꜱ. ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴅɪꜱᴄʀᴇᴛɪᴏɴ.

･゜゜・．｡･゜゜・．｡･ﾟﾟ･．｡･゜゜・．｡･ﾟﾟ･

“I dunno, I’ve just… never been able to finish when I’m with a guy,” you shrugged, nonchalant.

Mor’s jaw was on the floor, her big brown eyes filled with horror. She gasped, “A man has never made you cum?”

You reached across the wide oak table and slapped her arm roughly. “Would you shut up before every citizen of Velaris hears you??”

It had been quite a while since you’d lost your virginity, and after you’d run through a couple partners, you’d come to accept the fact that a man would never deliver that finishing, white hot ecstasy to you. But the way your friend had said it like such sacrilege made you embarrassed, a flush creeping up your ears.

“It’s fine, it’s not like I’ve never come in general,” you went on a bit too quickly, like you had to explain yourself. “It’s just that if I’m with somebody, and I wanna finish, then I have to… do it myself.”

“Gods,” Mor sat back, finishing the final sip of her— how many was that again?— umpteenth glass of wine. “This is why I prefer women.”

You stifled the laugh that nearly escaped. “I wish I could share that sentiment. Sadly…,” you sighed, “Penis is what does it for me.”

“Apparently not,” Mor whispered under her breath, going to sip more from her cup, but it was already empty.

Rolling your eyes, you grabbed the open bottle, ready to pour her another— but nothing came out. The two of you blinked at the empty glass, slow to register what that meant exactly.

“Welp. Should we start taking shots, then?” She asked with concerning sincerity.

You were quick to shoot her down. “Um, no thanks. I'd rather not feel like complete death at training in—” you glanced at the clock above the hearth, “six hours.”

Mor’s expression turned sour, as did yours. Six hours was certainly not enough time for your tipsiness to wear off completely, especially since wine had been your choice of poison for the night. “Fucking cauldron. Guess we should call it a night,” she groaned, dragging her pretty hands across her face.

The House cleaned away your glasses and the numerous empty wine bottles and corks that littered the surrounding area. You thanked it, stroking the table briefly as Mor trudged off, wanting to take a minute to yourself and maybe have some tea to relax before bed. You were completely unaware of the shadowy figure that was frozen around the kitchen corner, having heard every word of your secret confession.

Azriel stood in silent contemplation behind the doorway. He did not believe in fate, or destiny, or whatever crock of nonsense others would claim ruled their lives, but… was it not a sign that he had been walking into the kitchen for a late night sweet, only to stumble upon you spilling drunken secrets? It was rare to find anyone else up as late as him, and it would be a lie if he claimed he wandered out of his chambers tonight solely in search of a snack.

The two of you were quite close friends, but there was something more there that neither of you were brave enough to acknowledge. Lingering glances, teasing flirtation that always went a bit too far, the easy back and forth you volleyed with your sarcastic, dry comments. Yes, somehow the shadowsinger had found himself wrapped around your little finger, yet again enamored with a beautiful lady friend who did not return his interest.

Except you did.

Azriel was too blind to know it; too doubtful, too hard on himself to believe you would really want him. But that did not stop him from thinking about you every time he fisted his cock in the long, solitary hours of the night.

Everyone else in the circle could see it plain as day— in fact, Mor was perhaps the most eager proponent of them all. And perhaps she was a bad friend for allowing you to spill that sultry, enticing secret when she was aware that the shadowsinger who loved you now idled within earshot. Perhaps she was even worse for leaving in a hurry, a smirk on her lips and her fingers crossed as she skipped off to her room.

You remained at the large wooden table, unaware that the man who ruled your fantasies was just around the corner. He was silent and still as possible, battling himself with whether he should sneak off and never breathe a word of this, or if he should join you and take the risk. His shadows reported to him from the other corner of the room, informing that you were now sipping tea and looking gorgeous as ever, clad in a tight, sparkly evening dress that you had worn to the club that Mor had taken you to earlier that night.

Azriel stepped out from his hiding place.

You jumped— even with your fae hearing and so many hours spent with your friend, you never adjusted to how sneaky the spymaster could be. He emerged from the darkness of the kitchen, donned in gray sweats that hung low on his hips, exposing a glorious stripe of tanned, hard muscle that you stared at shamelessly. The white t-shirt that stretched across his broad chest was criminal, and you had to actively avert your eyes from burning into his visage, finally forcing yourself to meet his gaze.

But Azriel was looking at you, too, taking in how your dress flawlessly hugged your every curve, the expanse of your arms and décolletage that laid bare in the sleeveless, sweetheart ensemble. He noted the matching heels that were kicked haphazardly underneath your seat, the hair now falling from the clip you’d pinned at the beginning of the night, your slightly glazed expression. A small smirk graced his lips.

“Az!” You sighed, a hand on your chest, “How many times do I have to tell you not to sneak up on me like that?”

The Illyrian only shrugged, approaching slowly. “How many times do I have to tell you to work on your awareness? Always take note of your surroundings?” He quipped back easily, coming to stand beside you. He was so tall that you had to crane your neck to look up at him, and you motioned for him to take the seat that Mor had vacated only minutes earlier.

You play-scowled as he obliged, only replying once he was sat, his large wings tucking in behind broad shoulders. “And why would I do that, when one of your shadows is always watching for me?”

Azriel’s hazel eyes widened, a faint blush tinging his cheeks. You wished you could commission Feyre to paint that expression— you loved how boyish it made him look, how cute. But he quickly recovered, that measured mask of cool returning to his handsome face. “You should be flattered. They seem to take interest in you.”

“Hmm,” you feigned thought, rolling your eyes to then land on him and bat your lashes, “Just them that are interested?”

The shadowsinger couldn’t contain his grin. Flirting with you was just too easy, and he loved when you looked at him like this, gave him all your attention. It never led anywhere, anyway— so really, it was harmless… right? He chose not to respond, shrugging and taking a sip of the teacup that the House had conjured for him.

You huffed, displeased. Azriel was always the one to cut your flirting short, only entertaining you to the point where you weren’t sure if he was just playing with you or if there was actually some sincerity in his antics. It was fittingly mysterious of him, and undeniably irritating. You decided you weren’t going to have any of that tonight, the remnants of your liquid courage just enough to push you a step further than you would otherwise go.

“Az, tell me—,” you crossed your arms over the table and leaned toward the spymaster who took another sip of tea, nodding for you to go on. It took every ounce of the male’s willpower to not drop his gaze to your cleavage that was now pressed onto the tabletop, squished between your arms. “— Have you ever made a girl come?”

Azriel spit out the hot liquid, wings going rigid behind his back and his scarred fingers clutching the tiny cup in his palm. You examined the fresh line of tea that was sprayed onto the table, slightly amused as the House began to clean it away. But you continued on, determined to get an answer.

“I’ve heard you have a long list of lovers, surely you know how to do it?”

The Illyrian’s cheeks were now a bright red, the most obvious display of emotion you’d ever seen from him. “What—” he stuttered, still shocked that you had really just asked him that. “—Who told you that?”

You frowned, tilting your head in your hands, elbows sliding out further onto the table. “I asked first,” you pouted, taking a sip from your cup.

The male fumbled for words. True, he had heard your conversation with Mor and yes, he did make the choice to come in and sit down with you but never would he have expected you to ask him such a thing, so outright, so brazen.

“…I have,” he finally replied, slightly hiding behind his cup. You’d never seen the shadowsinger look so timid; it was endearing.

“But how do you know you really did?” You queried, looking at him curiously. “I mean— girls can fake it, so how do you really know?”

Azriel seemed offended at your insinuation. But he only pursed his lips and said, “My question…?”

You clicked your tongue and answered, “Cassian and his big mouth. And then Rhys with his… And maybe Mor at some point as well.”

His face contorted into a scowl, shadows coming to lick at his shoulders. But he decided to save his revenge for later, instead meeting your inquisitive gaze and deciding that your intention was not to slander him. “I am almost certain that my partners have never faked completion,” was all the explanation he gave.

“But how do you know—”

“Do you fake a lot of orgasms, Y/N?” Azriel shot back, his turn to pose the picture of nonchalance as he leaned on one elbow, hand on his cheek.

Your cheeks burst into flames. “W-What? No— I—”

The shadowsinger smirked at your flustered babbling. He was tempted to poke at you some more but took pity, instead savoring how cute you looked when you were embarrassed. But you couldn’t find the strength to answer, so he went on to fill the silence.

“If a man cannot make you finish, you should move on and find someone who can,” he said calmly, studying your bashful gaze that was now fixed on the table before you.

You sat up, removing your arms from the table so you could cross them over your chest, guarding yourself. It was your choice to enter this conversation but now it was getting a little too real, and your mortification was getting worse by the minute as Azriel’s steady hazel eyes were pinned to your every movement.

“Yeah…,” you agreed. In theory, his advice was all good and well, but there was no way that it would be that easy. “That’s hard to find, though.”

Azriel gauged your expression, wondering if he should admit he heard your earlier confession to Mor. But you seemed so embarrassed, he didn’t want to make you any more uncomfortable.

“Is there, like, a class you took or something? Maybe you can introduce me to one of your fellow classmates,” you attempted a joke, but the shadowsinger’s gaze only hardened, the corner of his lip twitching in distaste.

Jealousy and possessiveness swirled in his gut, not liking that you had just asked him to set you up— even if you had only meant it as a joke. You were not his, yet your faux request rubbed him the wrong way.

But the slightly hurt look you were giving him now was enough to wipe away any ill emotion that had briefly bloomed. “Just kidding…,” you murmured, fingering the handle of your now-empty tea cup.

Azriel fought to find the words that could navigate him through this strange situation. If only somehow he could reassure you, offer his services, but not ruin your friendship, nor come off creepy.

He took too long, because you rose, excusing yourself, “I think I better get to sleep.” Your cup disappeared and you quietly thanked the house, turning away from the male and heading toward the bedrooms.

The spymaster stood as well, following you down the hall. Both your rooms were at the very end of the walkway, meaning he at least had another minute of your time. His heart beat quickly in his chest, desperate to smooth things over with you, desperate for however much longer he could get with you. “I did not take a class,” he said, matching your pace.

You shot him an inquisitive look over your shoulder.

“One of the marks of a true man is to be able to fully pleasure a lady.”

You laughed, pausing so that you could walk by his side. “So you think of yourself as a true man? What is that supposed to mean?”

Azriel smirked, glad that your disposition seemed a little looser. “It means, I’ve had five hundred years to cultivate my skills.”

“Riiight, with your countless lovers,” you quipped, a little smirk growing on your lips.

A scarred hand pushed you gently, just hard enough to let you know he didn’t appreciate such accusations— even if they held some truth. Those gorgeous hazel eyes rolled as he clicked his tongue, about to shoot something back when you arrived at your door.

You didn’t reach for the handle though, instead turning to look up at him as your back brushed against the sturdy wood of your threshold. “Thanks for all your—,” you blushed, gaze fleeting, “insight.”

Dark brows furrowed at you. You had said it in such a meek little voice, your hands wringing with anxiety. It was easy for him to read your body language, but also, his earlier eavesdropping had cued him in more than you knew. Even though your conversation had made him seem like the one with all the expertise, his heart was slamming wildly against his ribs, tanned cheeks feeling hot. Somehow the spymaster managed to keep his composure and dared to take the leap.

“May I ask why you are so curious all of a sudden, little dove?” He said, a gleam in his gaze. “Would you like for me to prove myself to you?”

You chuckled, shocked, unbelieving. “That joke is deplorable— I think you’ve been spending too much time with Cassian lately. ”

Usually a jab at his brother would make the shadowsinger bark out a laugh, but he remained stoic, looking down at you with profound intensity. The two of you stared at each other, and you found yourself unable to look away. There was always something about Azriel that drew you to him, and in that moment, as he leaned a hand against the door behind you and filled your senses with the scent of cedar and crisp, chilled night…

His gaze flicked down to your lips.

You studied his, the full, soft pink calling to you.

Azriel could barely find the strength to resist kissing you, his face only inches from yours. The sweet, fresh smell of you was so devastatingly strong with such a short distance between you, and the way you were looking at him… he swore he could discern hunger in your beautiful, captivating gaze…

“Do you want that to be a joke, Y/N?” he murmured, warm breath washing over your cheek. The tip of his nose just barely scraped yours, another muscular arm coming to trap the other side of your body so he had you right up against the door with no escape. “I did not intend for it to be, but if that’s what pleases you…”

You looked at him with wide eyes, a shiver running through you. A new scent greeted your nose, and your lips parted as you took it in, your body shamelessly eating up the smell of his growing desire.

The shadowsinger licked his lips, gaze piercing yours as he detected the beginnings of a similar, honeyed scent emitting from you. There was no going back now, he decided. He was closer to you than ever, and he couldn’t pretend he could find satisfaction in you both returning alone to your rooms, not tonight. He dared to caress your jaw, the smooth skin a contrast to the rough texture of his scars.

“It’s your pleasure I seek, always…,” he said, and you held your breath, unblinking as you beheld his astounding beauty up close. “I only aim to please you… will you allow me to?”

Permission— he was asking permission. You could barely think; was he serious? Azriel was not the type to fool about things of such gravity… If this was some cruel joke…

Before you could give it much thought, your mouth was already moving. “Yes,” you breathed, answering him so quietly it was nearly inaudible, “Please, Azriel…”

The Illyrian’s brow twitched and he shuddered. He leaned down lower, lower— big, gentle hands coming to brace the small of your back and the nape of your neck, a thumb slipping along your jaw to point your face up to his… slowly, slow enough to give you the chance to change your mind… You leaned forward, eyelids fluttering shut. Another second went by and then, he kissed you.

Time stopped, and everything else faded away.

His lips pressed against yours and your arms wove around his neck, every place your skin touched exploding with sparks. The smell of him and his desire overwhelmed your senses, your knees weakening as he claimed your mouth with his, pressing you against him harder, hungrier.

You were snug between the door and his broad, powerful body. His hands squeezed at your hips, then slid down to your ass and lifted you effortlessly, your legs securing around his waist. The small friction of your core rubbing against his abs through your clothes was enough to make you gasp for breath.

Azriel seized the opportunity, his tongue coasting into your mouth without caution. The slick muscle wrestled with yours and you pulled at his hair, savoring the quiet moan that spilled onto your lips. You wanted more— to explore more of his skin, discover more of those sounds… Wordlessly the shadowsinger came to the same realization, fumbling with the door handle and tucking the two of you into the privacy of your room.

Your hair fanned out onto the pillows as the male deposited you on your bed, muscled thighs coming to part your legs and settle himself on his forearms above you, lips never leaving yours. It felt unreal to be consumed in the shadowsinger’s kiss, to have his hard body pressed up against yours and your hearts pounding together in harmony.

He felt the same, hardly believing you were really here beneath him, your small hands caressing his arms and his neck, fingernails digging into the meat of his shoulders and curling into his thick onyx locks. Finally he tore his mouth from yours, panting, studying your breathless form under him. “You are so gorgeous,” he praised, licking his kiss-bitten lips, hazel eyes ablaze as he examined the valley of your breasts. Before he leaned closer, he whispered, “Your safe word is moonlight, should you want to stop at any time.”

Though you didn’t plan on using it, you appreciated the consideration… and you wondered just what the male had in mind that might require such a precaution. But he captured your attention once more and you murmured his name as he moved to trail his tongue down your jaw and nibble at your throat, slowly making his way to plant open-mouthed kisses on your exposed cleavage. He pawed at the top of your dress, taking his time as he memorized the taste of your skin, tugging the material down. Your breasts spilled out for his eager mouth to immediately greet, soft lips capturing a nipple and his tongue rolling over it while his fingers found the other. Instinctively your hips bucked up against his, pleasure tickling you as he gave all his attention to your chest, grinding his aching cock into the mattress below.

Teeth grazed the sensitive nub and a moan escaped you at full volume, your cheeks burning when a ravenous glint met the shadowsinger’s eye. With just one swift look you knew he would do anything in his power to elicit more of those sounds from you, and your excitement only bloomed further as a hand slid up the slit in your dress, rough fingers raising goosebumps on your now-exposed thigh.

He kept busy as he explored your chest, sucking and kissing the swell of your breasts. The slow trail of his fingers up your thigh had you clenching in anticipation, whining when the digits brushed the lace edge of your dampening panties.

“Az, wait,” you huffed, causing the male to release your breasts, his warm gaze coming to inspect your face. Even though it was an embarrassing admission, for some reason you felt the need to inform him of your predicament. “I um— I’ve never… No one has ever been able to…”

Hazel pierced into you from his lower position on the bed, his broad shoulders steady and wings taut behind his back. He finished your sentence for you, ceasing your struggle, “…make you cum?”

Just hearing him say it made your soul want to leave your body, and you shut your eyes, nodding, wishing you could just skip this part. A gentle hand cupped the corner of your jaw, his thumb brushing your cheek with such tenderness that you dared to meet his gaze.

“I’m honored to be the first,” Azriel stated, unwavering as he looked deep into your eyes. His own were peering into you, the gold in his irises seeming to shine even in the dark of the room.

Your mouth opened to protest that he lower his expectations, but his thumb pressed into your parted lips and the words died in your throat. There was sheer determination in the look he was giving you— promise.

“Don’t think,” he whispered, his other hand coming to pull you down the sheets, back flat on the duvet and now squarely underneath his entirety. His toned body dwarfed yours and his ability to maneuver you with such ease made something distinctly female stir deep inside of you. “Just relax and focus on me. Focus on how my hands feel on you, my lips…”

A mewl escaped you as he leaned down to kiss the hollow of your neck, your head turning into the blanket while he left his mark on your throat. Your hips squirmed and his own pressed down in response, the hard length of him reaching for you through his sweats. The heat that resonated there made you dizzy, a fresh wave of desire pulsing through your pussy as he rutted against it.

The Illyrian’s groan rumbled across your skin, and he sank lower, again taking your breast into his mouth, an elbow digging into the mattress to hold himself up and curl a large hand around the back of your waist. The other wandered up your dress again, this time his fingers immediately cupping your core through your soaked underwear.

A string of quiet moans floated from your lips as his fingertips began to map your dripping cunt through the soiled material. The firm press of his digits against your entrance teased you until they wandered up to slowly rub your clit, his teeth grazing at your nipple. You whimpered, face twisting in ecstasy. Already the shadowsinger was making you feel better than anyone else had, and you weren’t even fully undressed.

At the realization, you fisted the cotton of his shirt. He complied instantly, ripping the article off of him with no issue, and you watched as the tattered cloth was swallowed by the shadows that danced at the foot of the bed. You then took in the sight before you, mouth watering at his utterly male form— the tan, lean muscle that tapered from his wide shoulders to his narrow waist, the contours and bulges that made his long hours of training evident, black ink melding perfectly with the straight planes and dipping down under the hem of his sweats.

Your fingers wandered on their own accord to splay across his broad chest, tracing the tattoos that laid there and thumbing over his nipples. That bit a low moan from the male, and he leaned down and captured your lips once more, tongue dominating yours. His hands disappeared behind your back and suddenly the zip down your back was undone, the material slipping down your sides. You helped him free you of the gown, now only clad in your soaked panties, hips squirming as you throbbed with need.

“Azriel,” you whimpered when his lips touched your sex through the cloth, the male taking a deep breath of your honeyed scent, and closing his eyes. His brow pinched as he experimentally licked at you, your thighs twitching as he released a moan of approval.

You gasped when he tore the drenched fabric off of you effortlessly, his teeth bared in a quiet snarl. Then he grabbed your hips and dragged your pussy onto his mouth, tongue spreading your folds and moaning as he savored the taste of you. He dove into you and you cried out in pleasure, his mouth sucking and nibbling on your sensitive core, tongue dragging up and down your seeping slit with fervor.

All of his attention focused on you was making you delirious, your eyes rolling back as you relished the sensations he was causing. His hands tucked under your ass and grappled onto your hips, not allowing you to squirm away from his generous attack. He alternated between gently sucking on your clit, your folds… then washing the sensitive bud with the flat of his tongue, laving over you wave after wave.

You were clenching, your hole leaking more and more as your body begged for some kind of relief. Utter want throbbed through you as scarred fingers slowly made their way toward your core. All remnants of thought left your skull at the press of rough digits at your entrance. There was nothing you could say or do as a finger slid inside of you, nothing but stretch around him and keen, gasp for breath. Before you could even moan, a second pushed in and disappeared knuckle-deep, right beside the first. The foreign stretch made your thighs tremble around his face, his nose nudging your clit as he continued his ministrations with his tongue.

His name became a prayer on your lips, a chant as those blessed digits curled and his knuckles scraped parts of you whose existence you had not known before. Slick was pouring down your thighs now, the steady, rough friction of his scars rubbing so deliciously along your gummy walls. You forgot any worries you had harbored, left them far behind as Azriel brought you closer and closer to the edge.

At some point you started begging, actually begging— you couldn’t help how good the shadowsinger was making you feel, couldn’t think to filter the words mixing with your ragged breaths.

Azriel only trekked on, mouth earnestly working in sync with his hand, examining the furrow of your brow, the part of your lips, the roll of your eyes back into your skull. Only then did he speak, mouth popping off of you just long enough to encourage you as you circled the drain.

“Good fucking girl,” he growled, the words vibrating through your cunt, tongue lashing against your folds between his praises. “I can feel your tight little pussy clamping down on me, I know you wanna cum…”

You could only whine and latch onto his shoulders as you hurtled toward that line no partner had ever been able to push you to, at full speed now that the shadowsinger was egging you on, pure filth falling from his lips.

“You can do it baby,” he purred, pressing another kiss to your clit, a brush of tongue following in its wake. “You’re gonna make me so proud, I swear my little dove, you’re right there… Come on pretty girl, cum for me, cum on my tongue.”

The tension in your belly heightened and you gasped, your body tensing under his firm grip and your back arching, teetering on the edge. And then you were cumming, your core gripping onto his fingers and pulsing, your head thrown back onto the sheets as you let out a long, sultry moan.

Azriel’s cock throbbed at the sound, his curiosity peaking as he wondered how your pussy would feel milking his cock like that, so tight and wet for him.

Your body was humming with bliss, fingernails embedded in the sheets beside your hips, your breath ragged and sweat glistening at your forehead. You’d only cum that hard a handful of times before, and it had taken a hell of a lot longer for you to get yourself to that point.

The Illyrian’s pace slowed, his fingers and his tongue still moving just enough to let you ride out your orgasm without overwhelming you. He continued to kiss your clit softly— even as his patience was wearing thin, his length crying for you, trapped tightly, painfully, beneath his pants.

His fingers finally fell from your entrance and he inspected the glossy sheen on them before he stuck them in his mouth. You watched as his tongue ran over every inch, savoring the taste of your cum. He pressed one final kiss to your clit and sat up, the tent in his pants more prevalent than before.

“I’m so proud of you, angel,” Azriel praised, a hand skimming down your thigh. His gaze was warm as he made eye contact, but the movement of his hand landing on his cock pulled your eyes from his.

You watched, still breathless as he firmly gripped his length through his sweats, a low sigh falling from his lips. He looked absolutely criminal touching himself like that, the shine of your cum still on his lips and his muscled torso heaving as he caught his breath.

All thought left your brain as his thumbs hooked the hem of his pants, dipping lower until you could see the base of his dark… thick cock. He pushed his pants down fully and your cunt clenched as his fully erect member slapped hard against his navel. The tip was the most beautiful shade of pink you’d ever seen, and your mouth dried as you examined the trail of glistening pre that dripped down the side. He fisted the base of himself, the wide vein running along the underside flexing as he twitched for you, eying the apex between your legs and your shared desire.

“See how hard you make me?” he said, a sinister glint in his gaze pinning you to the mattress. Both of you were fully naked now, and the sight of him approaching you, those big, ominous wings billowing with shadows behind him… he looked like a god, one that was about to completely decimate you. “See how much I ache for you? You completely own me, fuck… now that I’ve had a taste of that pretty little cunt, I’m yours.”

Your heart skipped a beat. It was unclear whether this was just dirty talk, or if he really meant that, but in the heat of the moment, you allowed yourself to believe his words were sincere.

He crawled toward you, completely predator as he neared. Heat rolled off his bronze skin, his member reaching for you, wings shuddering in anticipation. “These lips are yours…” he murmured, mouth grazing over yours. You closed your eyes, your arm reaching around his head, fingers carding through his soft hair. “These hands are yours…” His scars skimmed down the curve of your side, tingles echoing in their wake. “This cock, it’s yours…” you gasped as his hot tip sliced through your folds, tracing down your slit with ease from the orgasm he had just gifted you.

You moaned, hips lifting and your sex sliding along the length of him, coating him in your essence. He groaned at the sight, his breath mingling with yours as he panted, watching your most intimate parts slide against each other, your love juices mixing.

“Please, Az,” you cried. You’d never been more turned on in your life, the very tip of him nudging against your hole, the promise of pleasure so close you could taste it.

The shadowsinger could barely hold himself back, but he needed to hear you say it. “Tell me what you want,” he commanded, grit in his harsh tone as he began to lose his manners.

“I want you to fuck me,” you replied instantly, inhibitions thrown to the wind. “Please, please— I need you to fuck me, make me cum with your cock, please Az—”

Whatever semblance of restraint the Illyrian had was lost then, his lips pulling back in a desperate snarl. The sound had your legs spreading, your body feeling fuzzy with the overwhelming urge to be filled by him, taken and claimed by him.

Your body sang as he speared the tip inside of you, your cunt stretching around the sizable girth of him. A whimper fell from the male as he lowered his hips, half his cock disappearing into your tight, wet heat. It felt like he was heaven incarnate inside of you, your eyes rolling back and your legs parting wider around his hips, welcoming him deeper inside of you.

Azriel obliged, his balls slapping the wet backside of your thighs as he surged forward. The moan that fell from both your lips was pure sin, your bodies exploding in pleasure as they connected in the deepest, most intimate way, him fully seated inside of you.

Slowly he started to thrust, hips almost shaking at the all-consuming pleasure that was washing over him. He was already fighting his orgasm as he began to find his pace, the moans he was summoning from you urging him to press deeper, harder.

Again and again his hips slapped into yours, burying that impressive length deep within you. The depths he reached made your eyes cross, your pussy squeezing down on him, and your mouth drying from the constant panting he had you victim to.

He was growling into your ear, sweat sticking his hot chest to yours as he exerted himself. The sounds that tumbled from him only made your slickness grow, a wet patch forming beneath your ass as he started slamming into you with reckless abandon.

“Fuck, you look so pretty with my cock inside of you,” Azriel crooned, his face falling so that the bridge of his strong nose skimmed your cheek. It made his breath fall on the crest of your ear, rendering you privy to all the low, delicious noises that slithered out of his mouth. “M’gonna take good care of you, promise…”

Suddenly he pulled out and you wailed at the loss, but he was already flipping you over before you could register what had happened. He yanked you onto your knees, landing a quick slap on your ass before he nudged your legs apart and pushed himself into the new space. His cock dipped into your folds from behind and he loosed a delectable moan as he slid all the way back inside.

From this angle, the tip of him prodded a sacred, uncharted spot that had you shaking, arching your ass onto him and your back bowing in submission. The place he was reaching at the end of your inner walls made you weak, the hard length of him too euphoric for you to handle. He gave a tentative thrust, a hand coming to fist the hair by your scalp, the other weaving around you to tweak a pebbled nipple between his fingers. You sobbed at the newfound intensity, your stomach knotting and your hips sliding back on their own accord, once again seating yourself at the base of his cock.

“You like having me all the way inside, hmm?” he gasped, thrusting deep and hard, the clench of your cunt almost tempting his load straight out of his aching balls.

You gasped an affirmative, each thrust making stars dance on the back of your eyelids. “Yes, ah— yes, deeper— Az!” It must have been your g-spot he was ramming into because you could barely sit upright now, your body nearly collapsing in pure pleasure. “There, oh please right there!”

Azriel’s hand at your chest dove down, a large palm landing right above your womb, right where his cock nestled inside your throbbing cunt. “Here, baby?” He gave a few more thrusts, the very tips of his fingers nudging your engorged clit. “Feel my cock right here, dove? I’m right here inside you, fuck—“

You cried as he continued, ruthlessly pounding into you, the hand in your hair pulling your head back so he could manipulate your body and bend you into the perfect angle to continue hitting that spot.

Again you were rushing toward completion, completely stupefied by the shadowsinger rearranging your guts from behind. The pleasure was too intense— with each thrust his huge, thick cock stretched you to the brim and dragged against that delicious spot deep inside. Sweat dripped down both your bodies, heat and the lewd slap of his wet front against your ass filling the room again and again. His name became the only word you knew, a raspy chant as he brought you closer, closer—

You came with a silent cry, pussy pulling tight and fluttering down onto his hard cock. This orgasm was even stronger than the last, your eyes rolling to the back of your skull as his thrusts slowed, the intensity of your throbbing too great for him to continue his quick pace. Rough fingertips continued to circle your clit, drawing out your euphoria as you slumped into his strong chest, trembling with pleasure.

The Illyrian was fighting every inch of himself not to cum right then, blood tanging on his tongue as he bit the inside of his cheek. He refused to violate your perfect womb with his seed, even if every fiber of his being was screaming with the need to claim you as his. But he would not relent to his desires, not without your permission. And he didn’t want to finish yet, not when this was the highest he had ever felt, sheathed inside your ethereal body. So he clutched onto you and channeled all of himself into supporting your weary frame, rubbing your clit as you floated back to earth.

Once you had ceased twitching, Azriel laid your back onto the sheets again, joining you on his side, adjacent to you. You were still panting as you came back to reality, examining his mussed hair and how it clung to his damp forehead, the flecks of pure gold in his hazel irises, his slick, still-hard cock— a ring of your cream adorning the base of him.

Wordlessly you wiggled closer and kissed him. He moaned in surprise, either at how soft and sweet your kiss was, or at the touch of your small hand wrapping around his aching length. You jerked him slowly, the sound of it absolutely obscene, your thumb grazing over the weeping head where precum had once again begun dripping out. Your back pressed up flush against his chest, guiding his cock to your center and slipping the head into your slit, hips pushing into his.

The shadowsinger’s vulgar moan rung out as your warmth surrounded him again, your nails scraping his scalp. An arm slipped beneath your waist, his grip securing on the opposite hip and fully penetrating you once more. This position had your pussy tighter than before, and his chest shook as he tried to breathe normally, trying to fend off his orgasm. His finger slipped to the back of your head again, this time much gentler than before, just to turn your face and peer into your soul.

Azriel couldn’t find it in himself to thrust, just savoring how your bodies were completely intertwined like this, feeling absolutely one with you and staring deep into your gaze. But you wanted him to cum— needed it, pressing your ass flush onto his hips and clenching tight. The male’s broken growl was his only reply, words failing him. It was he who had planned to drown you in pleasure; he had not been prepared for how incredible you would truly feel, how whole he felt when he was inside of you.

You reached down and cupped his balls, feeling how tight and heavy they were with his seed. Azriel’s teeth grazed your lip at the movement, his body starting to shake with the need to release everything he had deep within you.

“Y/N,” he choked out, hips starting to press tentatively to yours on their own volition.

You studied the desperation on his handsome face, the shake in his thighs at each slow thrust, the dull fingernails that dug into your skin as he clung to you. “Azriel,” you moaned, he was reaching that spot again and rutting into it so slow, hard and precise… you could hardly think as pleasure filled your brain with fog once again. “Please… Need you to cum inside of me.��

Azriel groaned, tongue wrestling with yours and conceding as he began to lose himself in you. His thrusts became slower, sloppier, so you hooked your leg around his and began to arch back into him. The Illyrian began panting, fingers grappling onto your hips.

“This cock is mine,” you purred, repeating his earlier words, your ass slapping back against him harder.

His fingertips were blanching, the sight of his wet length sliding in and out of you from behind as you fucked yourself onto him mesmerizing.

“This cum is mine, too,” you squeezed his balls again and he let out a loud whimper, his orgasm surging forth as he started to meet your thrusts. “Give it to me, fill me up with your cum— fuck Az, need it deep inside me, please.”

He snapped, suddenly hard and fast and deep, a few more snaps of his hips that had you crying for him until— The most pornographic moan sounded for him and he pushed every inch of himself inside of you. His wings fluttered, thighs shaking as he gripped onto you and smushed you into the mattress under his weight. Warmth filled your belly as hot waves of cum spurted deep into your womb, his cock throbbing as you pulsed around him, milking every drop you could get. Sharp teeth lodged into your neck as he emptied himself inside of you, his body trembling with the effort of holding himself up as to not crush you completely.

Sweat dripped from his breathless form onto your back, and you laid there blissfully as you caught your breath. The sheets beneath you were completely ruined, drenched in sweat and slick and cum, but you couldn’t find it within yourself to care; not when Azriel was naked on top of you, cock sheathed all the way in and his cum spilled deep in your womb.

After a minute, the shadowsinger’s dark chuckle sounded from above you, his fingers tracing down your spine. “Naughty little thing,” he murmured, lips brushing your ear before he laid a kiss there.

You smirked, squeezing onto his cock that was still inside of you, retorting “You like it. You like me~”

He growled lowly, nipping you with his teeth. But he nuzzled you then and your heart melted, his lips ghosting over your cheek as he said, “I do. Very much, in fact.”

You whined as he pulled out of you, the loss of him much too noticeable for comfort. But he was right there, turning you onto your back with care, pressing soft kisses into every inch of your sweat-slicked skin. You could feel his release seeping out, the sheer amount of it too great to stay tucked inside where you so desperately wanted it to be.

Azriel gently pulled your legs apart, inspecting the slow stream of creamy white that trickled out of your raw entrance. “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to last long enough for you to cum again,” he said, a thumb running down your soaked folds, “I know you were getting there…” He licked his lips as you clenched under his heated gaze, embarrassed that he was outright admiring your most intimate part. Was he seriously apologizing for not giving you a third orgasm? “Allow me to make it up to you, angel.”

The male leaned down and pressed a kiss to each thigh, sliding back onto the foot of the bed and pulling you with him. You shot him an incredulous look as he settled between your legs, lips just inches from your soiled cunt. There was no way he was really about to do this— the mix of your cum with his was spread wide, coating your inner thighs, your pussy, your ass.

His tongue was like lava as he licked at you experimentally, eyes taking note of the shock apparent in your expression. Hazel glinted at you as he began to make out with your ruined center, his seed dripping from you as he made you clench. But he didn’t seem to mind the taste of himself, for he closed his eyes and traced his tongue down to your messy hole, petting you unabashedly, happily, even.

You didn’t think he could get any hotter. But this… this was outright perverted. Your core felt aflame at the sight, his pure enjoyment as he devoured the mixture of your cum like it was the most sacred delicacy. It had you moaning, legs trembling around his head, clit throbbing as he kissed and sucked at the poor bud.

Deft fingers brushed your core and were immediately coated in that same mixture, slick pouring from you as the shadowsinger continued his depraved quest. Two entered you with no warning and your back bowed, the digits instantly searching for that sweet spot as they pushed through the river of his release. A third joined and you released a garbled sob as they found their target.

Azriel, ever the observant one, took note and pummeled the spot relentlessly, knuckles curling as they slid in so they achieved full stimulation. His tongue was flat against your clit, licking you back and forth, and you were so sensitive from your previous orgasms that tears dotted the side of your eyes, your breathing ragged.

“Az, oh Gods— I—,” you mewled, hips squirming as the pleasure became too much. “Please, I can’t, it’s too much!”

But the Illyrian did not stop, would not stop unless he heard your safe word, his fingers picked up speed. “Come on baby, one more. Just one more,” the words vibrated through your cunt as he held you down, palm flat atop your tummy and pressing your sweet spot down so that it was even more vulnerable to his attack. “Trust me, it’s gonna feel so good angel, I swear.” His lips took hold of your abused pearl and he ravished you, his cum squelching as his fingers drove into you without reprieve.

Pressure gathered deep in your core and you whimpered, the intensity of your pleasure so great it was almost painful. You were close— so close to something big, you could feel that it was different from before with the way your cunt leaked and throbbed, the way your entire core felt on fire.

“Please—” you gasped, not even sure what you were pleading for, “Fuck Azriel, please, yes—!”

You screamed as you came, white-hot ecstasy imploding from your center. You nearly lost consciousness, your eyes crossed with utter bliss as liquid sprayed out of you and onto the shadowsinger’s chest. His chin, his torso, your thighs, and sheets, all of it was drenched as you couldn’t stop the squirt from pouring out of you. Fast fingers replaced his mouth and continued rubbing your clit, only slowing once you had ceased squirting.

Your entire body was shaking, toes curled into the filthy sheets, your brain trying to catch up but it was a mile behind your body.

“I’m— Az, I,” you stuttered, attempting to sit up, shock and shame taking root in your chest. The male was completely drenched from the chin down, the sheets beyond salvation. “I never— I’m sorry—“

A towel appeared from his shadows, and he swiftly wiped himself dry before he joined you on the bed, uncaring of the huge damp spot that now lay beneath you two. He shushed you with a kiss, taking your trembling form into his arms, a hand tucking your hair behind your shoulder. His lips were soft, his touch gentle as he tucked you against his chest.

“You have nothing to apologize for. I am so proud of you,” he said quietly, his low voice rumbling in your ear, “You did so well, little dove. Now let me clean you up.” His praise sent a pleasant warmth through your bones, and you curled closer to the male, basking in his embrace.

Secured in his arms, his shadows enveloped the pair of you in darkness, their cool caress whispering on your skin. Then, you were hovering over a large marble bath, steam wafting from the filled basin that Azriel was standing in the middle of. Slowly he lowered the pair of you into the water, holding you tighter when you squeaked at the heat from the water leaching into your tender core. He sat behind you, wings stretched over the lip of the tub, your chest against his back.

Wordlessly he tied your hair back and ran a damp cloth over your skin. You were still coming down from your high, the warmth from the water and the strong male at your back making your eyelids droop, exhaustion ebbing into your body. He held you up and washed your back and then his front, and when you leaned back against him, you somehow found the strength to smirk at the erection evident behind you. You scooted back to brush your ass against him and he growled lowly in your ear. The sound sent shivers through you, and you turned to face him, looping your arms around his neck.

You nuzzled your face into the crook of his neck, humming in content. The Illyrian kissed the top of your head, large hands supporting your weight as he lifted you from the water. The soft brush of a towel met your skin and his quiet laugh graced your ears when you refused to separate from him, your wet front clinging to his. Eventually he was able to pry you off of him so that he could fully dry you, but it took many kisses of encouragement and gentle praise.

Finally he placed you onto his bed, the silken sheets welcoming your clean, naked skin and flooding your senses with his strong, woodsy scent. Azriel slipped in beside you, his inked arms wrapping around you as he laid on his side, nose tucked into your hair, covering you under the blankets.

“So, did you fake it?” he whispered in your ear just as sleep was about to take you. He had clearly proven himself, teasing you now that you had experienced his full talents.

You swatted him with what little strength you had left, a lazy smile curling the corner of your mouth. “You’re deplorable,” you said and he laughed, gathering you closer to his chest.

You didn’t know what this night would mean moving forward, but you didn’t have the energy to care at the moment— completely drained from the earth-shattering orgasms the shadowsinger had summoned from you. You had the feeling he didn’t want to question it now, either, not as he held you like you were the most precious thing in the world, not when he had you naked, in his arms, in his bed. So you succumbed to slumber, content to leave the questions for the morning, your heart full and your body completely sated for the first time in your life.

⤷ masterlist

#azriel x female!reader #azriel x you #azriel x reader #acotar x reader #acotar x you #azriel smut #azriel fic #azriel fanfic #acotar fanfiction #angelshadowsinger #my work #azriel spymaster #azriel shadowsinger

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tokoyamisstuff · 1 month

Text

Delicate

Homelander x F! Reader

Summary: You and Homelander have been official for a while now, but you have yet to understand why things never went beyond a certain line.

Warnings: slight angst, slight manhandling, somnophilia, masturbation, explicit smut, praise kink, dirty talk, oral sex

A/N: not proofread as always bc I cringe at my own writing. take it or leave it

Homelander had never learned how to be gentle.

Of course he knew how to touch someone without breaking them if necessary, but there's limits to his self-restraint. Especially when it came to the intimate kind of encounter.

This sadistic side of his was an expression of his desperate need for control, an inability to truly let himself fall and be vulnerable with another person.

For decades his mantra was that normal humans only exist for supes' - and mostly his - entertainment. Your weakness was his thrill, the sheer difference in power so ridiculously high that you might as well be filthy bugs - and Homelander was like a cruel child with a magnifying glass.

Usually his mates were supes themselves and even they could barely handle his violent urges, but you are a mere human. So fragile and precious that it terrified him at times.

What if he loses control in the heat of the moment? What if he breaks you? Or even worse: What if you see him for the monster he really is and run away like everyone eventually does?

A while ago Homelander heard the story about Ice Princess' fling, some Vought employee nobody. She accidentally froze his penis off during climax. Hilarious, honestly. The first time he heard this story he had a very good laugh, and he still can't look that guy in the eye without cackling when he passes him in the hallways.

But now, being romantically involved with one of those weaklings himself, the possibility of something similar happening to you made his stomach turn...

...but of course, as Homelander always does, he chose to ignore the problem at hand instead of addressing it.

Why bother with an unpleasant conversation if he can just prolong this innocent, chaste bond for as long as possible? He'd rather have you like this than unnecessarily putting you into harm's way.

You on the other hand slowly but steadily grew impatient with your boyfriend.

At first you thought he was merely being chivalrous, but it's been three months and still nothing. He's famous, so you had involuntarily learned about his past affairs - and he's definetly not old-fashioned.

Then why is he hesitating so much?

Most of the time you don't dare talking about what's bothering you, simply because any issue of yours seemed so insignificant compared to the horrible things John's been through.

Admittedly, he once literally lasered a guy's head into mush just for throwing a can to his son's head. So while his reactions can be a bit unpredictable, John cares so deeply about the few people he loves that you want to spare him any more trouble.

Unhealthy way of handling things, admittedly.

Last week you had planned it all out: What you could only describe as the perfect date was supposed to continue in his apartment, and you could literally see all blood flow from his brain to nether regions as you entered the bedroom in finest lingerie.

Anyways, you had initiated several times up until now, and initially he'd always go along with it. However as soon as your make-out-sessions turn more heated, he'd abruptly end them and practically storm off.

Everything went so well at first, with you straddling his waist and tentatively grinding against his lap. His hands moved against his will as his resolve crumbled, finding the curves of your body and relishing in the feeling of your exposed skin under his gloves. His jaw clenched as he fought the urge to go all out, fearing dangerous consequences.

A proper dosage of pain can function as aphrodisiac, at least in your opinion. So you didn't tell him to stop, in fact your senses were too clouded by desire to even notice the way his fingers dug into the cushion of your hips.

Yet there was just the tiniest microexpression, just the fraction of a second where your heart sped up and your face contorted in pain...

...and Homelander, shocked with himself, threw you so frantically off of his lap, you landed face firsr on the floor instead of the bed.

Against all reasoning, you laughed hysterically at his not-so-subtle rejection, and god knows you'll tease him about it until forever. But also, understandably, on the inside you were as hurt and confused as never before.

Doesn't make it any better that your boyfriend had been avoiding you like you were the goddamn pest ever since.

Just like today, when Homelander comes home to you way past midnight, double checking with his x-ray-vision whether you were already fast asleep.

John was aware that this topic has been tormenting you for a while now, and while he never intended to hurt you - quite the opposite, really - he also clung to this pleasant illusion he had created with you.

Lucky at cards, unlucky in love, or so they say.

The course of his life had convinced him that all remotely good things happening to him will be taken away again. A farce prepared by destiny itself just to mock him, maybe evening out the scales since he had been blessed with too much power.

On days as shitty as this one however, nothing compares to having someone to come home to - even when he made sure that you weren't awake to confront him. He tosses his boots aside, grateful for you to be a sound sleeper as they fell to the floor with a loud thump.

Your boyfriend's heart sinks as he pulls up the blanket, being greeted by a handprint-shaped bruise on the side of your hip. Seems like it still hurts too much to sleep on that side. His fingertips run over the dark purple-ish mark, a pained groan escaping your throat when he gives in to the temptation to squeeze your ass.

He really is the worst.

Homelander freezes until he's certain you continue sleeping undisturbed, the sound of his own heart hammering against his chest drowning out all other noise. His palm is still lingering on your body, running up and down your sides and earning relieved sighs in return.

Before you'd feel his excitement too much, he manages to tear his body away from you, his erection twitching painfully as he rolled onto his back.

John really had pure intentions when he embraced you from behind, simply wanting to distract himself and fall asleep while cradling you in his arms - yet instead his already hard cock buries itself neatly between your thighs, the friction making him utter vile things.

Damn it Y/N, why the fuck do you always sleep in underwear only?! Is it to taunt him or to test his limits? Because it's working.

A breathy moan escapes his lips as he spread his legs wide, cock already leaking precum when he ran his thumb across the slid. He grabs it fiercely, pumping hard to make quick work of it, while roaming every inch of your skin he can get his other free hand on.

"Need some help with that?"

Shit.

ShitshitshitshitSHIT!

Seems like he was a little too busy with getting off - so much that even his heightened senses didn't catch you waking up to this scene. Your boyfriend had a habit of sleeping naked, so right now there was none of what he did left to the imagination.

"Heyyy sweetheart..." John tried to put on his trusty showman attitude, an awkward grin stretched across his face while trying to cover himself with the next best pillow. "Sorry babe, didn't wanna wake you up. Just go back to slee-"

"And miss out on the show?" you chuckle half-sleepily and he wants to die. He's done worse things in his life, way worse to be precize - so why is he fucking shy nowy just because you caught him? "Aww, you're blushing." He contemplates lasering your lips together to make you shut up.

"C'mon, John, I know you're holding back for some reason, but we don't have to go all out." Shuffling closer to your boyfriend, you give him those damn doe-eyes he can never say no to. "And I'd love to lend you a hand, if you know what I mean."

John instinctively closes his eyes as your face moves closer, lips eagerly awaiting yours...

...but just when you were about to touch him, he takes a hold of your wrist. "Y/N, I-" he shakes his head, trying to regain his composure. "Just- just let me go to the bathroom, okay?"

You frown. Worse, the humiliation makes tears dwell in your eyes. Pushing your partner is wrong, but without context you really start doubting yourself here.

Suddenly the stench of fear was lingering in the air, and your heart starts racing like a hummingbird. Trying to calm yourself was a fruitless attempt in front of a man that could perceive almost anything, even your pathetic strangled sobs.

So he was right: You're afraid and maybe even disgusted by his behavior, and just offered yourself to placate him.

Maybe he should just snap your neck to escape the inevitable heartbreak.

"A-Are you cheating on me?"

"Huh?" That question caught him off guard. He was prepared to hear anything, seriously all kinds of insults or accusations, but that? "Are you dense? Why the fuck would I cheat on you?"

And that's when it dawns on him: You are scared - but not of him.

To your defense, he did have a reputation of not being able to keep it in his pants. Maeve had remarked that fact more than once so you wouldn't forget. And him constantly being swarmed by the prettiest celebrities didn't do any good to your self-esteem either.

You're scared of him leaving you.

"Then what is it?" you sniveled, shrinking into yourself as you hugged your own legs. Seeing you like this and knowing he's responsible was somehow even worse than his earlier apprehensions. "You always react as if you got burned whenever we touch. Did I do something wrong, or- or am I not attractive enough?"

"What the hell are you talking about?" John scoffs in an almost irritated tone, unable to refrain from rolling his eyes. Comforting people didn't really come easy to him, even if he hated himself for not being able to let the shielding facade drop just this once. "You're gorgeous and you know that! C'mon, you women are always causing arguments out of thin air. Stop making this about yourself, would y-"

Seeing your glossy eyes turn into a glare at his ramblings made him shut up immediately, but the damage has already been done. "You know what, I'll-" For a while, you sit on the edge of the bed thinking and with every passing second of silence, Homelander's anxiety skyrockets. "I think it's better if I sleep at my own place for a while."

That's exactly what he's talking about, damn it! The line between control and insanity is a thin thread, and he is not willing to take any chances - when it comes to you at least.

"No!" he almost screams at you, jumping up from the bed and pointing a warning finger at you. "You're not going fucking anywhere!" When he sees your wary expression John's eyes soften, instantly regretting his outburst.

Why does he always fuck up? Why can he never seem to keep what makes him happy? Why can't he be what you need?

Homelander buries his face in his hands, taking a few deep breaths to calm himself just like you taught him. "Look, I-" He reluctantly put his hands on each of your shoulders and when you don't flinch away, he starts rubbing circles on your back. You always do it for him when he's upset, so he figures maybe it can help you too. "Please...I'll tell you the truth, okay? Just...don't leave."

You turn around to face him, nodding mutely as he wipes a tear from your cheek with his thumb. Seeing you cry was gutwrenching, moreso when he was the reason. "I..." he helplessly gestures around, wishing there was a script to this like he was usually provided. "I tend to become...rough."

"So?" The initial hurt now turned into confusion, suspicion even about whether he was telling the truth. You defendingly cross your arms, like a barrier so you wouldn't falter before you got answers.

"I'm not made out of glass." Compared to his strenght, you might as well be. "And I can talk. If you become too wild I'll let you know."

Stubborn as always. But he loved that about you, too. "It's not that easy, Y/N." His head falls in defeat and exasperation. John's about to cry himself, and he hates you seeing him anything less than perfect. "I'll hurt you, and then you'll hate me. Or worse..."

Consciously ignoring the worse part, you cup both sides of his face, making him look up to meet your eyes. "John..."

You straddle his waist again, feeling relief now that you finally understood. Peppering kisses across his face and neck you whisper "I was so, so worried you had grown tired of me..."

"Never." Homelander wasn't someone to apologize often, let alone sincerely. The times he did ever since leaving the lab he can count on one hand.

But despite him being...well, him, John knows best what it's like to be plaqued by insecurities. He hugs you tight enough to make you feel the sincerity of his words. "I only wanted to protect you. I never wanted to make you feel this way."

"Next time talk to me from the start, okay?" You smile softly as he aggrees, and he doubts to be deserving of all your sympathy.

Your hands never leave his body, featherlight touch reassuringly calming his nerves. And yet together with the fact that the only thing currently separating your bodies was your thin panty, it was no wonder that his body reacted the way it did.

A moan disrups your conversation when his cock stiffens again, and you can't help but buck your hips against him in response. Your panties were already soaking anyway, due to the friction and his dirty little deed earlier.

The scent of your lust wipe all negative emotions from your boyfriend's mind, replacing them with something else.

"I want you, John" you breathe against his ear and he whines. "We could just take it slowly..."

"I don't know how" he admits, and you smile at his reluctant aggreement. Gently being shoved down on his back again, it feels like he melts beneathe your fingertips. "Then I'll teach you."

Goosebumps rise on his skin as your fingertips ghost over his body, and you lean over for a longdue kiss, so tender and affectionate John thinks he will fall apart.

Homelander's groan gets swallowed by your lips as you pull your panties aside, slick folds now grinding against his cock. Your name falls from his lips in meek whimpers and you refuse to believe this wonderful man could ever harm you.

"Let me take care of you." Shit, how do you always know exactly what to say?

Raking your hands through your hair as you sit up, air gets stuck in Homelander's throat at the sight, making him choke.

You look fucking magnificent.

Hell, he'd pay an artist to paint you like this so he could look at it forever. If only it didn't require another person seeing you naked...

"You know, I thought it was just my imagination..." A mischievous smile plays on your lips now that you think of it. "But my panties have been disappearing a lot lately."

Your boyfriend didn't respond anything else but a whimmer, shame washing over him at being caught. Not that he was really subtle to begin with.

"Speak up" you tease, giving his shaft a soft squeeze and he instinctively thrusts into your hand like a dog in heat. "Did you use them to get yourself off to your fantasies, huh? Naughty boy." His cock twitches in your palm at the words. "From now on, I want you to come to me for release. Always."

"I trust you" you add as doubt is clearly written on his face, voice firm and as unwavering as your loving eyes, driving tears into his own. You lower yourself on his cock, savouring the feeling of being filled out like this. "Mhh...you feel so good inside of me. Will you behave, John?"

"Y-Yes..." was all he managed to wring out, since it takes every ounce of strenght inside of him to not cum to your sweet affirmations right away. John clutches the bedframe so hard that it crumbles under his grip, but to his surprise you don't wince at the sound - quite the opposite, it shot a wave of heat right through your core.

"John...look at me." You guide his hands away from his eyes to cup your breasts instead, looking at him like he's the best fucking thing in the world. The intensity of your gaze causes him to shiver, makes him wanna hide.

Yes, this is too good to be true.

Whatever you see in him right now he will taint with his own hands given time.

And yet he can't stop anymore, now that he's aware of the depht your love helds for him.

You read him like a damn book, noticing his internal struggle so you silence the voices in his head with a passionate kiss. "So good for me, John" you cheer him on, moving your hips at a low pace.

Tension finally leaves his body and he dives his tongue into your mouth, groaning deeply as he moves his body alongside yours. His touch was careful yet bruising, sending pleasant tingles down your spine.

"I love you, John" you cry out as your foreheads touch, eyes never leaving his. "I love you so damn much!"

That declaration was enough to drive him over the edge.

Homelander pulls you as close as close as humanly possible when he stills momentarily, jackknive-like thrusts chasing after his high. The sounds he made as you got filled up bordered on obscene, as did the amount of cum spilling out of you.

"Shit" he speaks breathlessly against your skin, covering a bitemark he had just caused with kisses. "M'sorry..."

And yet he wasn't willing to let go off of you just yet, this amazing orgasm unable to ward off the embarassment of his poor performance.

"Never apologize for having a good time, silly" you chuckle, brushing your nose against his. "I'm flattered, if anything."

John never knew that sex could be so...satisfying, more than just physically. Filled with carefree laughter instead of expectations.

After all, he was conditioned to never wanna disappoint.

"Nah-a-ah." You yelped as he spun you around effortlessly, now him being the one howering over you, bearing his canines like a starved predator. "I refuse to let my goddess go unworshipped."

"John...I'm okay, really. Sex between lovers is not just about that..." And yet when he opens your legs, you don't resist.

He bets you taste just as fucking good as you smell, feisty little thing. Driving him crazy all those weeks. Do you have any idea how hard it was to endure this sweet torture for your sake?!

A shiver runs down your spine when he licks his lips at the sight of your leaking entrance, taking a deep inhale. There's a hunger in his eyes that no sane person could ever comprehend - but you indulged in it, craved in his twisted kind of love.

Heh, you were a goddamn freak just like him all along, isn't that right?

Homelander takes his time kissing a path down to your navel, admiring the marks he left on your body he was now able to see as the lovebites they are. He briefly looks up to assure himself of your consent, an answering smile all he needs to continue.

"Myyyy tuuuurn" he chants so cheerful, you almost thought he had put on his formal persona.

A relieving finger finally has mercy and slides into your already overstimulated sex, making you arch your back when he curls it inside. Pleads and curses falling from your lips as he enters a second one and then another, and you desperately try to move yourself deeper onto him.

"Attagirl!" Seems like his confidence has returned, at least judging by that damn smug smile his tone indicated. The frustrated pout you wore right now was so adorable, he decided to end your misery and bury his head between your legs as well.

You were still fucking yourself on his fingers while he relished the taste of himself on your pussy, before enveloping your clit with his tongue. "That's my fucking girl right there" he mouths as he ate you out, pumping his fingers keenly on your weak spot he so easily found. "Come on, I want to hear you."

When you came it felt like you were ascending to the afterlife, screaming his name at the top of your lungs before collapsing into the sheets.

Your legs had long since gave out but John put them over his shoulders, humping the mattress while his tongue still ran over your nerve endings, shooting jolts of overwhelming pleasure through your system.

"Oopsie" he coos, a predatory glint in his eyes as he crawled on top of you again, his kiss giving you a taste of your own spent. "Made me hard again."

You eyes flutter open after the last bit of your climax had ebbed out, exhausted yet invitingly batting your lashes as your limbs entangled once again.

"Seems like I found the Homelander's weakness."

#the boys #homelander #homelander / reader #homelander x reader #john gillman #self insert #fanfiction #writing

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