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blindmagdalena · 9 months

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Guilty Pleasures

18+ 3.3k homelander x plus size f!reader. workplace harassment, stalking, voyeurism, masturbation, lite humiliation kink, sublander flavored. nebulously takes place post s1. part 1/4. AO3 link. | Chapter Directory

Homelander is on top of the world. He can say or do whatever the fuck he wants, and the sycophants around him will bend over backwards to make his word law, with few notable exceptions.

He never expected you to be one of them. When you put him in his place after a workplace incident, he becomes fixated on the promise of a firm hand alongside a soft body.

It’s Thursday, which means Homelander is currently bored to tears less than ten minutes into Vought’s weekly digital marketing meeting. These monotonous discussions of percentages and trending graphics gradually begin to feel like a drill pushing slowly into each of his ears, but they’re a necessary evil if he wants to have input when it comes to his image.

He taps his fingers impatiently on the armrest of his chair. The tapping pauses, however, at the appearance of a new presenter.

You.

You’re a far cry from the dime a dozen jackass in a suit that had been presenting before you. He’s sure he hasn’t seen you before, which means you’re new. His gaze drifts from your round face to the sensible cut of your blouse, the garment buttoned nearly to your throat. Anything less would be considered lewd given the size of your breasts. He wets his lips absently, adjusting himself to sit a little straighter.

He’s completely lost track of what you’re talking about in favor of watching the way your hips sway each time you walk from one end of the board to the other, tactfully engaging each observer. You have a resonant voice, commanding attention without sounding harsh. With a rack like that, you must have to fight to have a word you say heard by anyone with even a passing interest in a good pair of tits.

Not that the cheap fabric of your bra is doing them any favors. Silk would be better. He’s always liked the shine of it. Softer, too. It wouldn’t scrape against your shirt the way he can hear that cotton blend you’re wearing is doing.

Curious, he focuses his vision to peer through your blouse. Your undergarments are plain and sensible. Boring. Still, it elicits a distinct pang between his legs. His mouth waters slightly. Even from where he is, he can smell you, fresh and clean, slightly sweet smelling–like vanilla. Your clothes may be pedestrian but at least your perfume is nice.

Letting his gaze slide lower, he admires how the curves of your body flow into one another. He can tell just by looking at you how soft you would feel against him, under him. How good you would feel to grip and hold in place, sink into and lose himself in. Your voice has a soothing quality to it that lets him easily imagine you’re breathlessly singing his praises instead of rattling off bullet points in a presentation.

Fuck, he’s getting hard, his cock throbbing lightly against the cup of his suit. It’s the only thing that allows him to fantasize as freely as he does. The best part of it is that he’s fairly certain he can sense something warm and wet throbbing between your thick thighs.

He suspects he’s not the only one fantasizing.

The room is quiet for a second too long, and Homelander abruptly tunes back in to realize you’re staring directly at him, expectancy in your gaze. He pulls a blank, realizing he hasn’t processed anything you’ve said. “Say again?”

There’s a flicker of irritation in your eyes before you tightly school your expression back into polite professionalism. His lips slowly split into a devious smile that he consciously fine-tunes to be more neutral. How close you came to some sort of heated response was kind of… cute. It makes him want to give your proverbial pigtails another tug just to see what else he can evoke.

The thought of pulling your hair is good. The thought of you pulling his hair is better, though.

“I asked if you have any feedback for our campaign leading up to the premiere,” you say, though Homelander finds himself more interested in the flash of your tongue he gets as you run it along your teeth afterwards. Your temperature is up a notch, too. You must not be used to such direct attention from someone like him.

“Nope,” he says glibly, turning on one of his patented knock-out smiles. “Looks good to me.” At that, he pointedly looks you up and down, meeting your gaze with a quick wink.

Judging by the slight tic at the corner of your mouth, you aren’t charmed by his response. Still, he waits in preemptive satisfaction for you to appease him by returning his smile.

You don’t.

Instead, you say nothing more than a terse “Wonderful,” the singular word barely passing for civil, let alone professional. You move on, and Homelander finds himself taken aback. You don’t meet his eye for the remainder of the presentation, and while that gives him plenty of opportunity to ogle you, it bothers him.

Towards the end of your time, he clears his throat. Everyone looks at him.

Everyone but you.

“Thanks so much for your time,” you say to the committee, smiling, finishing your piece with a small incline of your head. You go sit, and there’s a slightly awkward pause before the next presenter takes center stage.

Homelander sits in stunned silence. The idea that you, some fresh faced nobody, think you’re in any position to blow him off is laughable at best. Who cares if he didn’t pay attention to your little presentation? That’s not his job. You’re lucky he’s even here, lucky that someone like him would think to give you time out of his day.

By the time the meeting concludes, you haven’t spared him so much as a glance. Indignation builds hotly in his chest. He’s had more than enough of being snubbed lately. He’s not going to tolerate it from the likes of you.

You should be on your hands and knees begging for his attention.

He watches a handful of your peers congratulate you on your first presentation, though plenty of others cast him wary glances and decide not to approach you. They know better. They know who’s really in charge around here. Naturally, they all skitter away like roaches when he strides towards you.

“Not bad for your first presentation,” he tells you, his smile toned down into a thin, lopsided smirk.

You look around yourself, no doubt taking note of how the other little insects around you have scattered. Maybe now you’ll realize your mistake.

“Thank you, sir,” you say, your body angled slightly away from him, as if you’re ready to bolt at any second.

“Got a lot on my mind, though, so I don’t think I absorbed as much as I could have,” he says, laying on that boyish charm a little thicker than usual. “Would really appreciate it if you could stick around and run that by me one more time.”

Your gaze flickers away from him–he wishes you would stop doing that–to the others who’re filtering out of the room, slowly leaving the two of you behind. “As I said during the presentation, all the documents will be available online,” you say, finally looking back at him. You actually have the audacity to look annoyed that he’s talking to you.

“I don’t have a computer,” he replies, his own voice beginning to flatten.

“I’m sure someone in IT can help you with that,” you say, undeterred by his attempts to corner you.

His smile tightens minutely. “Do you have some kind of problem with me?”

Your heart jumps. He finds satisfaction in that, at least.

“No, sir,” you say sharply, a barely discernible hitch in your voice. “What I have are deadlines. If you’ll excuse me, I’d like to meet them.” With that, you manage to squeeze by him. Despite the steady confident tap of your shoes against the floor, your heart races rabbit-like in his ears.

He contemplates you as you go, momentarily stupefied by your flagrant disregard for him. You weren’t entirely unaffected by his presence, though. If you’d had less of an avenue for escape, would you have been so flippant? He continues to focus on the beat of your heart as your steps carry you further from him. It doesn’t slow. You’re still full of adrenaline, the scent of it lingering alongside your perfume. He inhales a slow, deep breath, the leather of his gloves creaking as he curls and uncurls his fist.

Homelander finds himself wondering what your agenda is, what makes you so desperate to break from the norm and catch his attention. It’s clear to him that’s what you want. Why else would you be so stubborn where anyone else would yield? He scoffs to himself.

God, it’s so obvious in hindsight.

He has no doubt that your brazen attitude would shatter if he pressed in closer, if you felt the heat of his breath on your lips. He could part your soft thighs and paint the face of God on the ceiling above you with his tongue inside you. You couldn’t dismiss him so easily then, could you?

You’re so determined to be noticed that it’s almost pathetic. He shouldn’t reward this kind of behavior, and yet he feels strangely inclined to commend it. What you’ve done is brave in a way. Insolence and sycophants he can’t abide, but a touch of bravery? Well… That can be rewarded.

Your heart thunders in your ears as you make a beeline for your office. You can feel a terrible burn crawling up your chest and into your cheeks, the reality of what just happened finally allowed to sink in. You had spent all morning preparing yourself for presenting your work in front of not only your new peers at Vought, but in front of the world’s most prolific superhero. You were solid, you were ready.

Until you felt the gravity of his gaze on you. The weight of it made you stutter where you shouldn’t have, lose your train of thought mid-sentence. Every time you dared to look at him, he was looking at you like he was going to swallow you whole. Never have you felt more acutely aware of yourself than you did beneath his stare, feeling the way he was picking you apart as keenly as you would feel his hands undressing you.

It left you as furious as you are flustered.

That arrogant bastard!

You close the door behind you with a rough breath, closing your eyes. You can’t even sit, you have to pace your office instead, shaking your hands out as you walk. You know you weren’t imagining it. He confirmed as much for you when it took a solid eight seconds of silence for him to tear his gaze up from your chest, smiling as wickedly as any devil and caught elbow-deep in the cookie jar.

You couldn’t look him in the eye after that. It was humiliating to be reduced so thoroughly and obviously in front of your peers. Worst of all, he seemed damn pleased by it.

Though that isn’t the only reason your heart is still racing. You’re not quite ready to address that yet. You’re fairly certain if you’d been forced to speak to him any more than you had, you would have said something that would cause you to lose your job. You just need space to breathe, to collect yourself, to–

There’s a brisk knock at your door. Great. What now?

“Just a m–” You’re stopped dead in your tracks by a familiar flash of red, white and blue as Homelander lets himself into your office, closing the door securely behind him.

“Howdy,” he greets. He looks cartoonishly wide and brightly colored against the neutral colors of your office, even more larger than life than he’d seemed in the conference room. He has a smile that looks like it belongs in the mouth of a shark about to take a bite of you. It sets you off kilter completely–not that you’d been much on it to begin with.

You gawk a moment before managing to close your mouth. “Homelander,” you say, your voice curt in your own ears. You have no idea how to address him, still frazzled from not only the presentation, but your interaction that followed it. You should ask him what he needs.

“What’re you doing here?” That came out ruder than you meant it to. Not that he doesn’t deserve it. Still, you’re trying to keep this job.

“Are you always this pleasant?” He asks, cocking his head slightly as he comes to a stop in front of you, his arms held behind his back beneath his swaying cape. “Or did I catch you on a bad day?”

Is he serious?

“Your conduct today was inappropriate,” you say flatly, settling your hands on your hips.

Homelander scoffs lightly. “Oh, relax. You gonna ‘#Metoo’ me over a wink? Christ, you’re done up tighter than that blouse of yours,” he says, his gaze dipping. A chill rolls up your spine as you watch his tongue roll along his teeth. He’s like an animal anticipating a meal.

Your jaw drops, cold shock settling in your gut alongside that blistering heat. Of all the things you had prepared yourself for before coming to Vought, Homelander being a misogynistic sex-pest hadn’t been on your list.

Well. Not the sex-pest part, anyways.

You point to your office door. “Get out.”

He blinks, zero comprehension in those deceptively charming baby blues. His smile turns incredulous. “I’m starting to think you don’t understand what’s happening here,” he says, his tone taking on a precarious edge. He lets out a breathy, mirthless laugh. “You know, most people in your position would be begging for my attention.”

There it is.

You suck a noise through your teeth, nodding slowly. "Oh, I understand exactly what’s happening here,” you say, shifting your weight like you’re winding up for a pitch. “I know you think you're special because you're famous, or a supe, or both. I know you think I should be grateful that you’d even look at someone like me, but you’re not special, and I’m not grateful. The reality of the matter is I can get dick whenever I want it–good dick–and I can get it without being humiliated at my job.”

The silence in the room is deafening. Homelander looks stupefied, but you decide that you’re not done.

“You're not blessing me by making entitled passes and crude remarks while I'm trying to work. You’re being a nuisance,” you say, your heart beating in your throat. “So please, would you kindly leave?” You ask, voice firm despite the friendlier nature of your phrasing.

Finally, Homelander is the one left gawking. He looks like a fish with the way his mouth keeps opening and closing, but it’s the dismissive, aborted little scoffs he makes in between that really sell his wounded bewilderment. You can see tension lurking just beneath the surface, an anger that skulks in the creak of his leather gloves.

Fear begins to creep up the back of your throat, burning like bile, but you hold steady as he seems to be deciding what he’s going to do with you. The longer the quiet stretches on, your focus entirely on the subtle spasms in his expression, the more sweat begins to prickle at the back of your neck. You refuse to fill the space, you refuse to back down.

For all his power, he’s still just a man.

Eventually, he swallows. “Okie-dokie,” he says, his tone unlike anything you expected. He sounds confused–a little dazed, even. He walks to the door, and after one hesitant look back at you, he leaves.

The door closes with a soft click that still makes you flinch, the sound of it loud in the silence of the room. You blink several times, the abruptness of his departure making the whole encounter feel like some sort of fever dream.

What the fuck just happened?

You’re not special.

The impact of those words struck Homelander’s ears like a loud, painful ringing that follows him as he walks out of your office. He feels off balance, each step leaning slightly to the right.

It’s a ludicrous statement. Objectively wrong. Who in the fucking world could be more special than him? He’s a literal god, and you’re no one. A faceless, nameless cog in Vought’s mechanism that hoists him to the top of it all. That’s your job. To elevate him. Worship him.

Instead you spoke to him as if he were nothing. He could have cut you down where you stood for that. He could have put your head through your office window, snapped your neck, held your skull and burned your eyes out of–

He shakes his head sharply, swaying. He all but stumbles into the bathroom, surprising one of the worker drones washing their hands. “Get out,” Homelander says gruffly.

“Uh, sir–”

“Get the fuck out!” He snaps, startling the man so badly he immediately rushes off, fumbling with the door on his way out. Homelander slams it shut and lets out a ragged breath, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes, then his temples as he paces the bathroom. His reflection taunts him from his peripheral vision.

He hasn’t been able to look himself in the eye since he snapped his Doppelganger’s neck while he knelt before him.

That’s what he wants from you, isn’t it? Mindless desperate praise and worship. Why, then, does the thought od it make his stomach churn so violently he can taste the burn of bile? He tugs compulsively at his suit collar, the press of it against his skin uncharacteristically hot and itchy.

“I can get dick whenever I want it–good dick.”

He shamefully palms himself through his suit, confusingly hard amidst a swirling turbulence of contradicting thoughts and feelings. He could be good for you, too, if you’d fucking let him. He knows he could make you crumble, take apart that carefully constructed demeanor of professionalism and make you see him for what he is. He can prove himself to you. He will prove that you’re wrong about him, and then you’ll show him the love respect he deserves.

Hurriedly, he unzips his pants. His eyelashes flutter as he shoves his hand into them, roughly grabbing hold of his cock. He braces his forearm against the bathroom door and lets his head drop forward, watching his crimson glove pump the leaking head of his dick. His mind bounces between scenarios. He imagines himself in your place, fully on display for you to ogle. He imagines you’re watching him even now, staring him down with that unaffected look of indifference, of irritation, of disgust.

He bites back a whine, gritting his teeth. He wants so badly to imagine his face buried in your soft tits while he fucks the plush space between your thighs, but he knows you won’t let him. Not right away. You’d make him earn it, wouldn’t you? You’d make him watch you please yourself before he ever got so much as a taste.

The glassiness in his eyes begins to sizzle, the moisture burning away as crimson light flares up in them. Would you laugh if you could see him now, or would you scold him for touching himself without your permission?

Homelander comes hard, tipping his head back with a loud moan as he paints the bathroom door with ribbon after ribbon of come. He barely manages not to blow a hole through the ceiling, the light of his eyes flaring and softening in time with each euphoric wave of release. He pants through it, head falling forward and thunking lightly against the door, resting there while he catches his breath.

“Fuck,” he exhales eventually, sighing. He wipes his hand on the wall and then carefully tucks himself back into his pants, his mind swirling hazily on the best high he’s had since…

Clearing his throat, he puts himself back together before leaving the bathroom. Clearly, the thing that he’s been missing is a challenge.

Luckily for him, you’ve kindly volunteered yourself.

( chapter two )

#part two of this fic is mostly finished. i'll probably post it next week!#homelander x reader #homelander #homelander x you #my writing #homelander fanfiction #plus size reader #i've had this in my wips since early december and i just really wanted to get something posted

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minkdelovely · 2 months

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hands on

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Alastor x Fem!Reader ; MDNI 18+

tags/warnings: smut lite, chest fluff worship, reader on top ❤️‍🔥

word count: 568

author’s note: this was a little gift for @hazelfoureyes and @sugoi-writes based off this delicious fan art from @rib_roast_a5 on twitter. it didn’t feel quite right to keep it to ourselves, so here’s a steamy blurb for your enjoyment! i promise i’m not trying to push a hand kink agenda either… 😅

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Eternity was generous in moments like this. You had lost track of time, seconds passing like the listless rhythm of a leaky faucet.

Drip…

Drop.

Tick…

Tock.

It was a rare gift in Hell, and one that you never took for granted. Committing it all to your memory for safekeeping.

You had been riding him for quite some time, the need overcoming the two of you so suddenly you had hardly undressed after making it back to your room. You recalled how poised Alastor had still managed to look kicking his shoes off and removing his coat — and how sinful he looked pulling off one of his gloves with his teeth.

Though nothing could beat the expression on his face when you tore open his shirt before impaling yourself on his lap.

He still had the same intense look in his eyes, searing you with hunger and fascination as you fucked yourself on him. A wolfish grin on his lips and claws digging into the flesh of your hips as your fingers gripped and pulled at the tufts of hair on his chest. Heady pants and moans spilling easily from your open mouth as you maintained eye contact, your walls clenching around Alastor’s length as you saw dark blood fall down his chin in your peripheral. He often did this, quite literally biting back the sounds of his own pleasure in his desire to absorb all you had to give.

All that he could claim.

“Enjoying yourself, dearest?”

The question came out through gritted teeth and shortened breath. A thick swallow and drawn brows betraying his effort to remain stoic after a particularly salacious roll of your hips.

Reflexively, you grabbed handfuls of the hair on his pectorals from the strained sound of his voice, earning you a shaky groan that you could feel under your fingers; the vibration seeming to travel through them straight to your cunt, dousing his cock in more of your arousal. The wet sounds of your laps meeting only tightening the hot coil in your belly.

“Mhmm,” is all you manage to respond, nodding your head in emphasis as you switched from bouncing to grinding. Relishing the ache of him pressing deep into your core and crying out as Alastor began to thrust up into you, finally reciprocating a need for friction.

Another rumble from his clenched jaw as he matched your rhythm while you massaged circles on his chest. Humming at how good the plush, soft hair felt between your fingers.

Suddenly Alastor shifted his weight, putting it all on his shoulders as his legs bent up, slamming his hips into you as you fell forward from the force of it. Your wanton screams now muffled by the hair that your digits had been tangled in only seconds before. There was barely any time to process the switch before your orgasm washed over you, your muted cries harmonizing with the deep groan caused by his own release.

Alastor hummed as he felt your heavy breath hot against him, right over his rapidly beating heart. Your fingers lazily curled around tendrils of his chest hair while he pet your back as he slowly pulled out. Unable to fight the relaxed, pleased smile that spread across his face as you whined from the loss and nuzzled his chest when a thought came to mind.

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten that you owe me a shirt.”

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tag list: @fairyv-ice, @wat4r, @midorichoco, @raynerrold, @krak-jj, @tremendoushearttaco, @redfoxwritesstuff, @chibistar45, @kaylopolis, @cutiebimbo, @lousypotatoes, @rfox1998, @cosmiccandydreamer, @stardustandbrimstone, @cherry-cola-100, @wonderlandangelsposts, @catticora, @velvette3, @sailorsmouth, @alastorthirsty, @reath-solia, @junieshohoho, @cxrsedwxrlds, @fraugwinska, @littlebluefishtail

#alastor x reader #alastor x reader smut #alastor smut #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel smut #alastor hazbin hotel #x reader #hazbin hotel fan fiction

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inzaynety · 3 months

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a little, jealousy ⤫

➢ summary: Too much staring and too many comments tick him off. He makes sure he’s the only one you look at.

➢ content: hoshina x fem!reader, 1622 words, nsfw, fingering, oral (f. receiving)/cum eating, manhandling, unprotected sex (wrap b4 u tap lol), creampie, dirty talk, possessive hoshina, lwky aftercare

➢ notes: not my source of inspo being gojo smut lmao idk how to do this w/o making it like 10k words so here’s a lite version (and pls read the rules, if you’re under 18 DNI and DO NOT CONTINUE) also if yk who u are, dont read im embarrassed

pt. 1 - pt. 2 of slice & dice - pt. 3

Now this was your own fault.

Saying anything that enticing was going to get him riled up, not to mention the pressing matter of other men vying for your attention. Well, it was one man and the other was at the wrong place at the wrong time. But it all culminated to one point; it didn’t even take ten minutes to get you from the training room to his office.

It’s not the most comfortable place, but neither of you cared. He’s quick to push off papers and such off his desk before lifting you atop, knowing he’d regret the mess later. But that of course, was later.

Both of you were frantic in removing each other’s clothes, entangling in a heated kiss as you finally managed to claw off his shirt while separating for the quickest moment. He sighs against your lips when you trail a hand down his chest and once you try to steep lower, he catches your wrist.

“Not yet, sweetheart.” His eyes are dark but you catch a bit of restraint there. Even if you tried to provoke him, no matter what he’d make sure to have an ounce of control. You’re catching your breath when he lifts you a bit to slide off your pants and you hitch at how his fingers press against your aching heat, subconsciously grinding down to his digits.

Hoshina’s looking at you again, watching intently at your expressions and with a trained eye you know he’s enjoying this bit. You’re not about to give in just yet and return your hands to his neck, caressing the skin at his nape to pull him down. He groans at how you catch his bottom lip as you kiss him again and nip at it.

“Come on, baby,” you drawl, watching him through your lashes. “I’m getting impatient here.” He laughs at your demand and sits up to run a hand through his hair.

“You sure you wanna start with me now?”

You narrow your gaze in a challenge and he nods at the wordless challenge.

In a swift motion your panties are slid off and legs spread open, exposing your cunt to the cool air. You shiver at the sudden contact while leaning on your elbows, trying to hide but he’s holding you in place. Despite knowing it’s not the first time he’s seen you bare, you always feel a little shy.

It doesn’t help that he has that goddamn look on his face. His gaze is so intense, zeroed in on your most intimate area.

“Fuck, look at ya. Already wet for me?” Hoshina licks his lips while darting between your eyes and your exposed pussy. At his words comes an embarrassing gush of slick and he laughs at you. “Of course ya are.”

He readjusts bringing his face down to your puffy lips and brings his thumb to press against your clit. You jerk at the feeling but he doesn’t even try to move it, leaving you with just a little bit of pressure.

“H-Hurry up, Soshiro!” You demand but you know you’re in no place to rush him. You know it, he knows it. But then you hear him click his tongue before he licks a stripe up to your clit. He stops you from moving with one hand pressing your waist down onto the wood of his desk.

“Don’t rush me.” He says, glaring at you from his spot. His tone was cold but it contrasted to how he smoothed down his hands on your thighs, coaxing you to relax. The two of you had built up tension up to this point but he’d be damned if he hurt you even a little. Even if he was being a little bit of a jerk.

You’re impatience mellows just enough for you to nod and watch as he slips a finger into you. Mewling, you reach down and grab at his hair when he immediately finds that spongy spot in you with practiced ease, adding another digit. He doesn’t give you the time to recover when he’s ruthlessly bullying them into you.

“That’s it, good.” Your whines of his name fill his ears and Hoshina’s can’t help but feel pride. Only he was the one who could do this to you and the only one you would expose yourself to in such a vulnerable state.

You’re so, so close to cumming now and he can feel it in the way you tighten so nicely. He adds his third finger as more wetness seeps out of you and you lose it, throwing you head back as you cum and right then does he decide to plunge his tongue in, collecting your release into his mouth. He savors the taste and while you try to pull his head back with both hands in his hair, he doesn’t relent and he helps you ride out your first high.

“Stop ‘shiro, too much!” Hoshina hums, enjoys the sting to his head from your pulling and relishes how your moans taper off when you start to come down. He gives you a few moments, rising up from his position to kiss you and allow you to taste yourself on his lips. It feels so dirty but you can’t get enough of him.

Hoshina pulls back and smirks, your face morphing to that of concern as to what he was going to do next. Arms come around your body and you’re flipped around on his desk, bent over with your chest pressed to the hard surface and legs spread apart. One of his hands comes down to rub against your core, spreading your release around. Sighing, he watches as he feels his pants tighten.

You stiffen at the sound of his belt coming off. “Oh? Ya like the sound of that?” He runs the leather against your ass and lightly taps it at the skin, admiring how you jolt. “Naughty girl. I’ll make sure to keep that for next time.” He throws the article to the side with a clang to the shelf while pulling his cock out.

Even if you’re not seeing it at the moment, Hoshina has always been well endowed. The familiarity of him comes rushing back when he presses the tip to your awaiting hole and you automatically press against him, only held back by the sudden appearance of his hands gripping at your waist. He’s definitely going to leave some marks.

Now your impatience has caught up. He was being nice only making you cum once, but it wasn’t enough for him to just go at his pace. You needed more. But it could cost a bit.

“Fucking hell,” you start, trying your best not to shake when he continues spreading more of your come with his cock this time. He raises a brow at your sudden comment, though he doesn’t say anything, “you gonna fuck me or what?”

Was that a mistake?

It sure didn’t feel like it when he rams into you without warning. You choke on your oncoming words and lose your thoughts as he hits that spot inside you so quickly. He’s relentless in his pace; you don’t feel like you’re breathing.

“Bein’ a brat now, huh? How’s that goin’ with you gone on my cock?” He spit out, bringing his mouth to your ear as he grabs your face. “Can’t even think straight?” It’s embarassing how he could make you pliant like this. You were a Commander–a position of high authority but this man was breaking all of that down.

And you loved it.

“Answer me, sweetheart.” Hoshina’s fucked you too many times for you to know he won’t let you come again without a response. You can’t speak, words coming out in hybrids of jumbled moans and whines, so all you can do is nod and nod. “Who’s makin’ ya lose your mind? Who’s cock is makin’ ya feel so good?”

“You! Y-you Soshiro!” Your answer satisfies him as he knows he’s not too far off from his own release. He picks up his pace, hips slamming against you. Luckily, the desk is bolted onto the floor but your sounds were too loud anyway.

Hoshina watches as you fall apart beneath him, letting go of your face to bring his hand back to your hips as he chases his own high. You’re shaking again at the feeling of his cum shooting inside you but the warmth brings some sort of comfort, especially when his previously round hands massages the area they had an iron grip on.

“You’re mine, right?” You immediately confirm with a hum and he smiles at you, giving you a moment to catch your breath while leaning down to pepper soft kisses on your back and nape. In your haze, you know there’s something else behind his words. That would wait until morning.

He whispers sweet nothings against your skin and leaves affirmations in their wake. He moves you again, careful to not separate himself from you too abruptly as he knows how you prefer keeping him inside for a bit longer.

Laying you down, he cages you in his arms with his hands underneath your head to cushion it. Your eyes are a bit unfocused, but he stays watching you till you blink up at him, finally looking into his eyes.

“Are ya okay, sweetheart?” You nod but he shakes his head. “I needa hear ya say it.”

“Yeah. ‘M okay, ‘shiro.”

“Good.” He kisses your temple, your cheek, and finally your lips to distract you from him pulling out. He knows you’d be pissed in the morning if you were left a mess after all so he wants to get started on cleaning you up. “Such a good girl f’me.”

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