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cute-little-crow · 23 days

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Based on a request by 💌 anon on how Sylus might react if he finds out you’re ovulating…

tw: female reader, talk of ovulation, implied breeding kink, Sylus has a strong reaction to the news, mention of birth control, NSFW throughout but part two will be worse 😈

Part Two

Fragrant water sloshed over the edge of the tub, your skin slippery from the concoction of essential oils added earlier in the hope of relieving your aches and pains. Your hand slid against your body, glossing over hardened nipples and dipping past your navel towards the dull, throbbing ache between your legs.

Your eyes remained stubbornly closed, thoughts of the debauched nature swirling in a vortex of crimson and obsidian feathers. God, you wished you could admit everything to him… admit that you were struggling, but it wouldn’t be fair to press your burdens onto Sylus.

That was why you had avoided him as much as you could. Why you had dodged the touches he tried to brush against your skin, worried that one touch alone would be enough to give the game away. That he would know from the blazing heat of your skin that things were not as they seemed.

You knew it bothered him, not that he had said anything on the subject, but it was only a matter of time. Sylus was not one to be denied.

As if summoned by thought alone, a sharp knock punctuated your daydreaming. Sinking lower into the tub until your chin hit the waterline, you listened as the low rumble of Sylus’s voice drifted through the door.

“Can I come in, sweetie?”

A tiny part of you wanted to refuse him, but that would be cruel, and cruelty was not a part of your nature, not even in your current state.

Vermillion eyes locked with yours, curious and if you weren’t mistaken, concerned. Sylus sat on the edge of the bath, his back resting on the ceramic tiles whilst he cocked his head and let out a weary breath.

“For a minute, I didn’t think you would let me in,” he admitted whilst carefully rolling the sleeves of his shirt to the elbows. “You’ve been avoiding me, kitten, why?”

You glanced off to the side, heat warmed your cheeks at the accusation. How did you tell him that it was for his own good? He didn’t need you distracting him unnecessarily with wants that made you blush and squirm with embarrassment.

Splash…

His strong hand plunged into the steaming water and wrapped around your ankle. He thumbed across your ankle bone delicately, long fingers splayed around your heel and towards your arch.

“Talk to me.”

The words were followed up with a squeeze of his hand, eliciting a moan that you couldn’t suppress. The corner of Sylus’s mouth twitched upward into a subtle smile, his grasp loosening to run the length of your calf.

“Sylus… I—it doesn’t matter. I’ll be okay, in a few days I’ll be back to my old self.”

“A few days? Nuh-uh, sweetie… I am not prepared to wait so long and I am certainly not willingly to have you continue to avoid me. What’s wrong? Are you sick?” He asked, brow furrowed and the first tendrils of his power leaked out to wash over you.

The power called to your own, entwined around each other in a lovers embrace, twisting and writhing. You weren’t sure if he felt it too, though if you were more present of mind you might have noticed how his breathing had turned shallow and his fingers had stopped massaging calf.

You licked over your parched lips. Gaze low-lidded as desire overrode your previous reservations.

“I’m… can you not look at me like that whilst I tell you this? It’s not helping.”

“Looking at you like what?”

“Like you’re going to devour me whole.”

Sylus huffed a laugh. “I just might, but fine. I’ll close my eyes, how about that?”

He was so handsome and that was certainly a large part of the problem. You’d lost count to the number of times you had fantasised about him soothing the ache in your belly. A large palm pressed against your soft belly whilst he thrust into your hot, wet cunt. His silver hair tickling your shoulder as he marked the skin of your neck, blowing cool air across the blooming bruises. Filling you up over and over until sleep took you hostage and you could happily drown in the fatigue of overused muscles.

“I’m ovulating,” you finally conceded, rushing on to explain. “It makes me feel needy. My body is hypersensitive. I’m prone to my emotions getting the better of me. Picking fights over nothing. Letting jealousy win. It’s a lot and I’m trying not to let it affect you…”

There was a weighty silence, filled only with the gentle sway of the water, and then it was broken.

“Ovulating. You’re… shit—well, that explains a thing or two.”

His eyes were positively glowing. His jaw set into an expression of pure agony. If looks could inflict damage you knew you’d be bloody beneath his dangerous maw.

Sylus was pure predator and you were the only prey he ever wanted to both consume and protect.

“Soft or rough?”

The question didn’t make sense and you frowned in confusion, nose wrinkled.

He answered by submerging his arm into the tub, right between your legs. Not even your attempt at closing your knees together would hinder his progress, not until he cupped your sex.

“I am giving you a choice,” he grit out, jaw flexing, “on how the next few hours are going to go. Either way, you will be asleep in my arms and content by the time I’m finished.”

“Oh, Sylus~”

Sylus groaned. His middle finger rubbed along your slit swollen with heat and desire, dipping through the hot flesh like a knife through butter.

“Don’t. Don’t say my name like that or I’ll make the decision for you,” he warned.

Saliva filled your mouth, runny and hot. “Rough,” you purred, letting your pussy answer for you. “But Sylus… I’m not on birth control right now.”

Sylus, who had started to rise to his feet with his arm dripping and his shirt sleeve dark with water, paused. He turned his gaze on you once more and your spine arched off the porcelain tub, nipples peaked and swollen emerged from the fragrant water.

“Stop talking, princess. I’m already a hair away from plucking you from the water and taking you on the bathroom floor like a dog.”

He strode for the door, ripping it open with such force that you shuddered.

“Five minutes. You have five minutes to get out and get onto all fours on our bed. I want to see my pretty pussy glistening and ready for me… maybe I’ll fuck a baby into you, if you’re lucky.”

You asked for rough… you were going to get it.

an: part two coming soon… dividers by @/roseschoices

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace sylus #lads sylus #lnds sylus #sylus x reader #lads smut #lads fluff #lnds smut #lnds fluff #sylus smut #sylus fluff #love and deepspace smut #sylus x you

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sp0o0kylights · 2 months

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Steve’s seen it before.

The barely concealed expression of horror, made right as a lady hears one of his cornball, goofy jokes and speeds through the five stages of grief as they realize they still want to fuck him.

Even if he says shit so ridiculous a middle schooler couldn’t get away with it.

(And Steve would know, because he’s watched Dustin try.)

It’s a core part of his personality really. He was smooth about it when he cared about appearances, locked the corny shit away until they were alone and he could reveal just enough of his real self to seal the deal.

Then he was all about making teddy bears talk and all other kinds of stupid shit.

Nowadays he doesn't bother with putting on the cool guy front.

Steve is who he is, and likes who he likes, and that perhaps, is why this particular look of horrified acceptance is so amusing.

Because it’s not on a girl's face.

It’s on Eddie’s.

Which he expected, because Steve’s not as stupid as the kids think.

Just as Eddie isn’t the best at hiding his crushes like he thinks he is.

The over-the-top showmanship and teasing, the jokes and theatrics might fool most of the Party, and had even Robin second guessing for a while, but none of them have done their time in the trenches.

Romance is, and has always been, Steve’s game.

“What did you say?” Eddie asks, laughter ringing through his voice, and with a cocky grin, Steve steps into his space and happily repeats himself.

“I said--if no one’s done it yet, then let me be the first to thank you for wearing those pants.” For the second time, Steve sends his eyes downward, only to slowly pull them back up. “What are they made out of? Boyfriend material?”

“oh my God.” Eddie says but he’s grinning, a finger pulling some hair across his face and Steve knows then and there that he’s won.

#Steve is a dork #dont let him fool you #cocky little shit #steddie

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saetoru · 1 year

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✩ ‧₊˚ ✩ speak of the devil

synopsis. satoru and his father don’t quite get along—you don’t think it would help that case if his father walked in on you fucking on his desk right now, but satoru doesn’t seem to care at all

FIVE PLACES RB! GOJO SHOULDN’T FUCK YOU SERIES

length. 3.4k words (why did it take all day sobs)

contents. fem! reader, minors do not interact, college au, rich boy! gojo, as always it’s shameless satoru, you sit on satoru’s lap, brief fingering, dry humping, desk sex <3, clothed sex, unprotected sex, creampie, pet names (baby, sweetheart, princess, perfect girl)

notes. to everyone who kept asking when i was gonna update this series: here it is. now don’t ask again <3

the one time you decide to surprise satoru with a visit is the one time he’s nowhere to be found—it takes you ten minutes and the help of two maids to finally find satoru in his house. as it turns out, he’s in his father’s office—the only room you’ve never been in yet.

“hey,” you murmur, “been looking for you everywhere. way to ruin my surprise.”

“baby!” he grins, perking up from his spot at the chair, setting the pen in his hand down. “you came all the way here to surprise me? you must love me so much. and think i’m hot too, right? and funny? and smart? and—”

“i’m leaving,” you tease, rolling your eyes. and then you notice the papers in front of him, peeking over his shoulder as you read over them. you understand nothing. “what’s this?”

“paperwork,” he grumbles, “old man says i have to start being more responsible for stuff if i’m gonna take over someday. what a geezer.”

you snort—satoru never runs out of insults for his father. normally, you wouldn’t encourage his comments, but….well, his father deserves them. quite a bit, in fact.

“my poor businessman,” you say sympathetically, smoothing back hair from his forehead as you cup his face. he pouts, leaning into your touch as you rub over the swell of his cheek with your thumb. “you deserve a break.”

“i know,” he whines, “i’ve been doing these for like an hour. i could’ve been playing video games with suguru. or fucking you.”

“satoru!” you gasp, pressing a hand over his lips as you eye the door and listen for any signs of anyone nearby. you turn to him and hiss, “you have too many people wandering your house for you to say that so loud.”

“not like they’ve never heard us before,” he shrugs.

well, that’s satoru for you—as shameless as ever. not only has he probably traumatized the poor maids with his insatiable horniness, but he’s not even got the tact to at least seem embarrassed. not even slightly ashamed. you scoff, shaking your head as he grins up at you cheekily.

“you’re a real case, you know that?” you say in disbelief, “i think the only surface you haven’t fucked me on is your parent’s bed. and that’s only because you love your mom enough not to do that.”

“if it was just the old man’s, i’d have fucked you on that too,” he snickers. and then he hums thoughtfully, “actually, i think i have fucked you everywhere. it’s like a bucket list.”

“satoru, you’re sick in the head.”

“the showers, the guest rooms, the kitchen, the living room, the movie room, my room, of course—oh, the game room too. and we can’t forget the backyard and the pool either. i think we got it all—wait.”

he sounds serious. you look at him with furrowed brows as you tilt your head. “what?”

“we didn’t get this room.”

oh god. he’s absolutely ridiculous—and not only that but a complete idiot, too. not only do satoru and his father not get along, but his father couldn’t disapprove of you any more than he already does. the last thing you both need is for him to walk in on his son fucking the girl he probably wants to hire a hitman to assassinate.

“oh my god,” you say exasperatedly, “toru, have you not one ounce of shame? you can’t possibly think—”

“why didn’t i think of this sooner?” he wonders out loud—and oh no. satoru has that look in his eyes, the one that’s locked in on something he wants. the spoiled side of him isn’t going to let this go. the weak part of you is probably going to have a hard time fighting him.

the unwise part of both of you will probably get you both into a whole lot of trouble.

“because it’s a bad idea. you’re a smart guy, toru,” you try to butter him up—it doesn’t seem to do much, though. “the smartest. so, so genius and intelligent, so you know this is a terrible idea, so let’s just drop it—”

“i should’ve done this way sooner,” he chuckles, looking at you in awe, “bend you right over this desk and fuck you over that fossil’s papers.”

his words are so shameless and so, so wrong. but for some odd reason, your clit aches a little at that.

“no, absolutely not—”

“can you imagine? he’s signing papers right where i had you drooling for me? he’d be so mad if he knew,” satoru cackles.

god—this should not be as appealing as it sounds. you try to throw on your best stern look, but satoru is as smart as he is sly. he can see the way you shift on your feet as he smirks up at you, and he’s already got that determined look in his eye that you know well enough.

it’s the same look he has when he decides he’s hungry—for you, that is. the same look that paints his face as he eyes you like you’re his next meal. the same look that tells you he wants you—and he’ll stop at nothing to have you.

and….well, you’ve never been good at saying no to satoru. it’s your fatal flaw.

“satoru, we should definitely not be doing any of that in here, and we definitely should not be risking making your dad—who hates that we’re dating, by the way—any more angry with us than he already is—”

“sweetheart,” he chuckles, pulling you by the wrist to fall onto his lap, “you worry too much, y’know that? i should fix that. fuck you dumb over this desk so you don’t overthink in that pretty little head you have.”

you glare at him, but he’s already got you straddling his hips, arms looped around your waist as he kisses your jaw with a hum. he’s already hard from what you can feel—the bulge pressing against your heat is hard to miss.

“satoru—”

“save the part where you say my name for later. i haven’t even done anything yet,” he winks—and then he’s kissing you. he’s clever, you think, because kissing you is the fastest way to get you to melt against him, arms wrapping around his neck as he pulls you closer.

so close, in fact, that you can feel his cock practically twitch in his pants as you shift on top of him, dragging your clothed cunt over his aching bulge.

“this is such a bad idea, toru,” you whisper in between kisses—but not one part of you fights his touch or even attempts to pull away. he hums, pressing wet kisses along your jaw as his hands dig into your hips, moving you to grind along his hardened length.

“yeah? you sure? let’s check, shall we?” he raises a brow, hand slipping past the waistband of your pants and brushing past your folds—wet. dripping and messy and needy, just how your pussy always seems to be when you’re with him. he grins in satisfaction and throws you that knowing look as he mumbles, “sorry, baby. this pretty little pussy of yours disagrees.”

“toru,” you gasp as he toys with your clit, rubbing slow enough circles that you whine and roll your hips, trying to get more. but satoru is a brat—always has been, right from the day he was born. he pulls his fingers away and looks at you smugly as he kisses your curled lips while you frown at him.

“want more, don’t ya?” he asks—he’s too cocky for his own good sometimes. too ridiculous and annoying and troublesome, but you’re aching to feel something, anything. preferably him, so you nod.

“just hurry up,” you huff. your hips push against him, dragging your cunt over his cock—it’s throbbing in his pants, confined under the fabric and needy for the tightness of your walls. you gasp when he rubs against your clit, and he groans, guiding your movements with a tight grip on your hips.

“fuck, sweetheart,” he rasps, “c-could cum jus’ like this. see what you do to me?”

“‘s not me,” you tilt your head as he nips at your neck, hand trailing to cup the back of his head and keep him in place as he nibbles at the skin and pecks along the marks he leaves, “this is all your fault.”

“all my fault, huh?” he chuckles, “you make it sound like this is a bad thing.”

his hips buck up, rolling against yours and building the friction up until your both panting messes, his lips against yours as you drink in each other’s moans—your clit rubs along his length with every stutter of your hips, and his tip leaks with more pre cum every time you press harder against his cock. it’s desperate—the way he chokes on your name and the way you cling around his neck. it feels good, and the way this is all so wrong only makes it feel better.

“‘m close, toru,” you mewl, whining as his hand slides under your shirt to massage your tit, his eyes trained on you as he hums.

“good,” he grins, eyes dark and glinting with a sick satisfaction you don’t think you’ve ever seen on him before, “cum for me, sweetheart. right here—right on this chair,” he says lowly.

so you do—head falling back with a sharp gasp and your nails digging into his shoulder as you come undone with a loud whine. the gojo estate is big—very big. you’re sure your voice isn’t carrying through even a fraction of the place, but still, you can’t help but clamp a hand over your mouth in case anyone is nearby.

satoru doesn’t like that, though—his hand rips yours off as he ruts his hips upwards faster, harder, pressing against you closer. “no, baby,” he chuckles, cutting himself off with a breathy moan when you press harder against his cock, “make sure you let me hear how good you feel. feels good, huh?”

“yes,” you whimper, “yes, feels so good—need more, toru. please,” you pout, looking up at him with lust-blown eyes.

“here?” he mocks, raising a brow, “you want me to fuck you right here? in my father’s office? where he does his work? right on his desk?”

“yes, here,” you sob, “right here—please. want you so bad. need it.”

“see?” he laughs, “now you’re getting it—not so much of a bad idea, is it?”

that’s the thing about satoru—he’s too used to hearing what he wants. being told what he likes to hear. getting what he asks for. you say no, and he’s determined to change it to a yes. but yes is never enough—it’s more. always more, more, more. it’s like all rich people, you suppose.

they just always want more.

there’s a small, reasonable voice in your head that tells you this is a bad idea. a disrespectful one, even. sure, satoru’s father has never been kind to you, let alone polite. he looks at you like you’re an eyesore, and he’s certainly said less than appropriate things about your upbringing. but that doesn’t mean you have to stoop to his level of low and do something equally as spiteful, if not more…but you’re only human. and satoru always just fucks you so well, and cumming around nothing just isn’t enough, and…well, you think it’s just karma.

the way the world works.

the way you and satoru work.

so you grin, huff out a little snort before pulling him into a kiss and reaching to free his hard, leaky cock from its confinements. he whines a little into your mouth as you smear the arousal coating his tip along his length, stroking down and squeezing at the base.

“okay,” you whisper against his lips, “fuck me toru. right here—right on his desk.”

that, evidently, is all it takes—one second you’re comfortably sitting on his legs, pants soaked with his bulge pressed against your core, and the next second you hear his hand swipe papers off the surface to fall to the floor as your back is pressed against the cool wood. he doesn’t even bother with your clothes, just tugs both of your pants down your thighs that it’s enough. satoru has always been impatient too—doesn’t like to wait for anything when he can take it when he wants.

you can feel him close, hovering over you. he’s warm—where his cock presses against your thigh, where his breath fans over your lips, where his hands grab your wrists and pin them over your head. he’s warm, and your head spins, and you need him filling you to the brim right now.

“anything you want, you get, sweetheart,” he murmurs, grinning sickeningly sweet, “can’t say no to my baby. what kind of boyfriend would i be?” you feel him bump his tip against your clit, making you gasp before he drags the head of his cock along your folds—they’re wet and slick from your arousal, coating his tip before he’s slowly pushing in. you gasp, wrapping your arms around his neck as he groans lowly. “can never get used to this,” he breathes, “never get used to this pussy. just takes me so well. fit in like i was made just to fuck you.”

“toru, t-toru—oh,” you squeal when he slides the rest of his length to fill you, buried to the hilt as your walls flutter around him. it’s nothing new, but it’s never something you’re prepared for all the same. how thick he is, how perfectly he hits that spot in the back of your walls, how full he makes you feel. it makes your legs wrap around his waist and pull him forward, closer, deeper. “more, toru—move, please.”

“nuh uh,” he drawls, kissing your cheeks, “first you gotta tell me how much you love me.”

“satoru,” you hiss in disbelief, “are you kidding—”

“c’mon, say it,” he giggles, “love you, toru. love how you fuck me so good everywhere in your house and make me feel like a princess. you’re the best boyfriend ever and i’ll die without your cock—”

“i love you toru,” you smile sweetly, “you know what i love more, though? when you’re too busy making pretty sounds for me instead of talking so much.”

that makes him shudder—makes him curse under his breath as your walls flutter impatiently around him. he’s aching—hot and swollen in your dripping cunt, balls heavy with cum that he needs to empty into your pussy because it was made to take him. every inch of him.

“you’re gonna be the death of me,” he breathes out shakily, “know that? gonna kill me one of these days.”

“good,” you hum before rolling your hips and making his breath hitch, “now move, baby. wanna feel you.”

he does—pulls his hips back so that he’s just almost pulled out completely before he slams back into you, pressing against your sweet spot with his tip in the way only satoru knows how. only he knows you this well, only he knows your body so well. he knows where to kiss and hold and touch to make your eyes flutter shut, and your mouth fall open, wanton moans falling past your lips without a care in the world who can hear.

“so tight, baby,” he whines, “god you’re so perfect—my perfect girl.”

“so full,” you gasp, clawing at his shoulders, pulling at his hair, pulling him closer and closer and closer until not even air can fill the space between you. “feel so good, toru—fuck.”

“look at you,” he coos, pressing a kiss to your collarbone, “‘s a shame you can’t see what i see. then you’d know why i can’t keep my hands off’a you—’s impossible.”

you can’t speak—all you can offer him as he’s bullying his thick girth into you is a pathetic whine as his veins drag along your walls, as his navel bumps along your clit and has your head thrown back against the table. there’s slick smeared along your inner thigh, the wet sound of his cock fucking into you ringing in your ears along with his deep groans as he pants harshly against your ear. you can feel his breath against your skin, can feel the goosebumps and the flutter of your walls every time he makes a pretty little sound for you as you squeeze around him.

“love you, toru,” you mewl—you can’t help but say it, can’t help but remind him when he pushes into you like he was always meant to fit right there, like he was always meant to feel you as you feel him too. and if his rotten, greedy, stuck-up father with a receding hairline can’t see that you love satoru, maybe you’ll just have to fuck him right where he can find you just to drill the image into his mind.

“love you too,” he says between moans, face digging into your neck as your hand cradles the back of his head, keeping him right there, keeping him close against you like he should never be anywhere else, “love my perfect, perfect girl. feel me? feel what you do to me?”

you nod between sharp gasps and soft cries of his name—he looks down at you in wonder, at the way your lips look when they murmur that sweet little cry of toru!, at the way your pussy sucks him in and hugs too tightly around him, at the way you look so good with the slight sheen of sweat on your face.

his hips roll, a little sloppy in rhythm now, but still just as hard and deep as before. he can sense it—the way you’re just about to fall apart on his cock, just like you always do. so he presses a thumb to your clit, rubbing harsh circles that make you cling to him tighter as you cry out another sweet string of toru, toru—more!

“you close, sweetheart? gonna cum for me? ‘m close—gonna fill you up. want that, don’t you?”

“yeah,” you breathe, kissing him with hot, open-mouthed kisses that he returns, “yeah i wan’ you to fill me up, toru—gonna cum. ‘m so close—f-fuck, so close, baby.”

you know he is too, the way his cock twitches and the way his hips are desperate in the way they roll into you tells you he’s just as close to falling apart as you are. you push your hips up to meet his thrusts, pushing him impossibly deeper into your cunt before you feel the coil snap as you cum—hard. your walls flutter around him, spasming and squeezing around him that his bottom lip is tugged between his teeth as he inhales sharply.

“f-fuck, baby—’m gonna…” he doesn’t get to finish before you feel his cock twitch and the first drop of cum fills you. it’s hot and thick, every rope he fucks into you, leaking past his tip and painting your walls white. you can feel the mess he makes—can feel the drops leak and smear along your inner thighs as he slams into you with choked whines of your name. “g-good—’s so good, you feel so good,” he says breathlessly, face digging deeper into the crook of your neck as his arms tremble over you.

the wood is hard against you, makes your back ache slightly—but it’s not nearly as bad as satoru is good. you can’t think of anything else but the way he fucks you both through your highs until your legs are begging to press shut from the oversensitivity.

it’s silent for a bit once you’ve finished—save for the harsh, labored panting as you both calm down and catch your breaths. satoru is still buried with his nose pressed against your neck, your hand rubbing over his back slowly.

“your maids must hate us,” you mumble, “and if your mother hears? we can never show her our faces again.”

“she’s probably dead to the world and watching her reality shows,” he snorts, “we’ll be fine.”

“well, we should clean up and leave before your dad—”

“oh look, speak of the devil. he’s just in time,” satoru snickers as he cuts you off, looking over at the window as an expensive car drives up to the house, “think we can get these papers organized before he comes up here? maybe we should just leave ‘em to make him mad.”

“you’re crazy,” you say in disbelief. and then— “i think we should leave them there. make them his problem.”

you think you’ve just watched satoru fall in love with you all over again at that.

i hate this fic but hopefully i come back one week later and reread it and think wow i ate w this. sometimes i do that. but if i don’t: if all of you donate one dollar to my family they can afford my funeral for when i drink bleach

#teepods.writings #fics.#thirstee!#rich boy! au #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo smut #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk smut #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x you

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zarameraki · 7 months

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♡🍼₊˚・₊✧ 𝘁𝗼𝗷𝗶 𝗵𝗮𝘀 𝗮 𝗯𝗿𝗲𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗳𝗲𝗲𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗸 ₊˚・🍼₊✧

: ̗̀➛ tropes: fem! reader 𖥔 mdni 𖥔 toji loves boobs

: ̗̀➛ words: 982

: ̗̀➛ notes: this was requested by anon and i did post it through the ask but I wanted to post it separately hehe. ok enjoy

Toji had an outlandish kink.

It developed shortly after you’d given birth. You didn’t understand why he’d stare at you as you breastfeed your child. Well, he mostly stared at your breasts in his classic Toji style.

“What?” you bit out as he continuously watched you from the kitchen. You helped your baby latch onto your nipple and stared at your husband with a defiant look. “Oh, for God’s sake, Toji. Spit it out.”

“I want a taste.”

“Taste of what?”

“What that little brat is drinking.”

Your brows hit the roof of your hairline at his bizarre request. He couldn’t be—Wow, your husband had truly outdone himself in his kinks game. “Yeah, no fucking way. This milk is strictly for our child. If you’re so eager, open the fridge and pour yourself a cup. I’m pretty sure we’ve got cookies, too. But the oatmeal ones are mine—”

“I don’t give a fuck, doll. I wanna know what your milk tastes like.”

“Toji, are you out of your fucking mind? I’m not—You’re a grown ass man. I’m not going to, I don’t know, breastfeed you.”

“I’m not asking you to breastfeed me. I only want a little taste. I’m fucking curious, sue me.”

You scoffed, giving a small rock to your baby as he gargled and took small breaths in between the feeding. “Toji, I love you, and I love your abnormal requests during sex, but I’m not letting you taste my milk.”

Toji stared at you with a frown. A puppy-dog frown that melted your heart and added cracks in your defenses. He lowered his eyes and resumed washing the dishes. “I only wanted a small taste,” he mumbled in the most adorable manner.

Growling from your throat, you folded at his request. “Fine.”

“Really?”

“Just—Just give me a minute.”

Toji abandoned the dishes and quickly sat next to you, ogling your breast. “What if he drinks you dry?”

“What if you drink me dry?”

“I don’t mind sharing. He’s my son, too.”

You rolled your eyes and smiled down at your baby. After a few minutes of drinking, he unlatched his mouth and you handed him off to Toji to burp him. “Wait here. I’ll go use the suction pump—”

“Fuck no. I wanna drink it straight from the source.”

You took in a deep, aggravated breath. “Fine, you dick. Put him to sleep and meet me back here.”

A tiny part of you was intrigued by Toji’s kink, but another was scared that he would drink you dry. The man was downright obsessed with breasts since the first night you slept together. During your pregnancy, he’d lay you back on his chest and massage them with scented oils, commenting how heavy they’d gotten. It was only a matter of time his curiosity regarding your chest would grow.

You unhooked your nursing bra and placed it aside, laying down on the couch with a groan. Toji entered minutes later and immediately covered your body with his looming figure, giving you kisses across your face for being such a kind wife. “Whatever. Hurry up so I can eat something.”

“I’ll cook,” he said, trailing kisses down to your neck and chest. “l’m gonna finger you, too, baby.”

You rolled your eyes with a smile.

Toji smiled and pushed his hands down your panties, parting your folds slowly growing wetter and wetter from his heated presence. He sought out your clit like the expert he was and rubbed it with gentle circles. Your lips parted with small, soft sounding sighs, fingers running through your hair and staying there. “That feels good, doll?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Yeah?” Toji pushed his middle and ring finger into your entrance. He began stimulating you with his quick thrusts. Your heels scraped up the couch’s surface, teeth clamping down on your bottom lip.

Toji ran his coarse tongue over your right nipple. You glanced down at him and scoffed from his cheeky wink. He kissed the sensitive bud, then locked his mouth on it, pulling it in. You wrapped a leg around the back of his thighs, and your hands cupped the back of his head as he suckled on your nipple. He moaned and took laboured breaths from his nose, and when you glanced down, you found trickles of white liquid at the corner of his lips.

“Toji, save some—”

He switched to your left nipple, leaving his fingers static inside your walls. He was too drunk on the taste of your breast milk to care about anything else. Your back arched from the sensation of him teething your nipple to produce more milk. Toji took his fingers out of your pussy and massaged your right breast.

“Toji, that’s enough,” you breathed, using his hair to pull him away. Thankfully, he compiled and released your nipple with a pop sound, licking around his mouth to taste the last bits of your milk. “How was it?”

Toji had to close his eyes and reel in a deep breath. “I’m gonna drink from these tits every night until they stop producing milk.” He gathered your breasts in both large palms and kissed the tips. “Gonna put a baby in you again so I don’t die of thirst.”

You chuckled in disbelief and smacked his back. He stared lovingly at you and kissed your lips. You tasted nothing, really. “Mmm. You know, if you make me a big dinner afterwards, I’ll have more milk for our baby when he wakes up.”

He narrowed his eyes.

“What I’m saying is, you big buffoon, that whatever is left over now, is yours—ah!”

You clutched to the back of his hair as he started drinking again, pulling up to sit on his lap. His strong arms stayed wrapped around your waist, mouth glued to your sore, puffy nipple.

Sighing, you smiled and kissed the top of his head. “You’re a kinky idiot, Toji Zenin.”

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azullumi · 6 months

Text

a scripture on having a certain pretty gambler as your boyfriend ; aventurine

summary — radiant and gleaming, dating him feels like basking under the golden glow of the sun, with the promise of the serene and starlit night ahead.

pairing — aventurine (w/ gender-neutral reader)

tags — established relationship, fluff, him as your boyfriend basically, there are no spoilers dwww, i never proofread, 1.2k words ; headcanons

note — congratulations to honkai star rail for being the only game to have aventurine!! this is day 2 of writing for this man until i have him.

Aventurine couldn’t abandon the person that he used to be so he carried him in his hands. Always hesitant, afraid, and seemingly detached from everyone he meets—this is why he seems so distant and disconnected from you at first despite being in a relationship with him. Although he lives his whole life gambling, believing that everything happens and the outcomes gained are due to luck, he’s meticulously careful and cautious just to not get too attached to you lest he gets hurt in the end (he has dealt with the sight of people’s backs as they walk away from him multiple times).

It will take time for him to completely warm up and be vulnerable to you. Although there are moments that he lets the facade slip and he lays himself bare, moments where it’s just you and him in the silence, moments where you comfort him after a nightmare that disturbs his sleep; he doesn’t ask for comfort nor assurance often but you always seem to know when he needs it.

Aventurine loves it whenever you gently comb your hand through his hair. Even if he wasn’t vocal about the matter, you’ll know from the way he immediately relaxes under your touch as you rake your fingers through his locks. It just gives him a sense of comfort, finding serenity and affection in such a small act of intimacy; it reminds him of how simple everything could be (oh, how he wishes it was) with just the loving touch of your hands.

He’s not exactly a morning person but would always wake up early, occasionally before you do. It’s either because he has to leave for work early or it just so happens that he woke up just as the sun was rising. If he has to get ready soon, he’ll take a few minutes of his time to admire you as you sleep, to trace the bridge of your nose slowly and carefully so as to not wake you, to draw and follow the outlines of your features with his eyes. But if he has no plans for today, he’ll stay in bed with you and eventually, fall asleep once more. He holds you so close and so tight (but not tight enough to suffocate you) that it’s hard to slip away from his grasp.

You feel a pair of soft lips on your forehead, the kiss lingering for a moment until you flutter your eyes open. “Are you awake now, sleepy?”

“Mmh…” You grumble, your vision adjusts to your surroundings as you blink multiple times. You could see Aventurine getting dressed, putting on his expensive tailored-coat.

“You’re leaving already? Why did you not wake me up?”

“You looked like you were having a nice dream.”

MATCHING PAJAMAS (heck yeah!!). The time when he saw you wearing one of his pajamas, it felt like something had been flipped inside of him and the thought of getting you one for your own that matches his fills each and every corner of his mind. Although all of the matching things you have with him are not just limited to pajamas—it can range from matching jewelry, matching charms, matching clothing, matching glasses, matching everything. God, he goes into a store, sees something that he likes and asks the staff if they have another one but in a different color that you like.

Perhaps you have never noticed (or maybe you have) but he never wears his glasses whenever he’s around you—when there’s only you and him. There was no need to hide anything from you, not when you adore all parts of his being. He melts whenever you compliment him (he’s a sucker for such words of affection) especially when it’s his eyes, loves the way you look at him as if he was everything you wish for.

He’ll often play games with you or initiate a bet but somehow, he has more losses than wins. “You’re cheating!” You’ll say, pointing at him as if you were an attorney from a game that objects to a statement. Aventurine, however, would stare at you in disbelief (though he’s just feigning innocence) and would answer with a raised eyebrow: “How am I the one cheating when you’re winning?” To which you’ll respond with: “That’s because you’re letting me win. You’re not playing fair, Aven.”

SPOILS YOU A LOT and when I say a lot, I mean A LOT. Everything you'll ask for or even just mention in passing, he'll provide. He randomly sends you pockets of money, a notification on your phone lighting up your screen and the text says: You have received 100, 000 credits. You have to get used to it—it’s one of the ways that he shows his affection to you. He wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer whenever he gives you something either, so, you have to take it or else you’ll have to deal with a sulky man the whole day.

Don’t worry though as he ensures that everything that he buys and gets for you is something you would like—expensive meaningless gifts will always be meaningless, he would rather give you a cheap yet beautiful charm that is of your favorite color or flower than an expensive shiny necklace made out of gold and adorned with diamonds which you’ll never wear because it’s too heavy on your neck or it’s not your preference.

On that note, he also likes seeing you wear the things he bought for you. Maybe it’s obvious, maybe it’s not, but he likes to dress you up, likes to see you put on the clothes he picks for you. Dates where he brings you to a boutique to pick clothes together (for both you and him), dress up, and ask each other if they look good is not so rare between you two. It’s silly but the two of you would end up giggling like children when the other would strike a ridiculous pose to show off what they're wearing (and also, with the intention to make one another laugh); he lives for and craves these moments with you.

Brings you together with him to casinos and lets you watch him while he plays as he regards you as his lucky charm (when he’s actually the one who is lucky here). Whenever he wins a game or a bet, he asks for a kiss from you—he taps on his cheek as an indication of his request but he will not force you if you don’t wish to express such affections in public, rather he’ll ask for something else instead like maybe a smile or ask that you hold his hand. Sometimes, if you’re curious enough, he’ll teach you the fundamentals of the game and what you can do to win. The look of pride on his face says it all as he watches you win and your opponent falls to the floor (you just put someone in debt).

The amount of endearing names that he calls you. If ever you get flustered whenever he calls you with those affectionate endearments, he’ll take the chance to tease you, to repeatedly call you with such names until you throw a pillow or any object at him—he catches it though but will apologize while laughing, saying that he won’t do it again.

You have to be understanding and gentle with him, careful as you tread the light, lest you fall into the dark and see that the tall and strong walls he built around himself is nothing compared to the broken and fragile pieces that are sewn on his skin, and he will leave (out of fear, out of anxiety, out of grief, out of self-hatred). But it’s alright, everything will be, you’ll embrace him even in the abyss and you’ll guide him back to your warmth.

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blindmagdalena · 3 months

Text

You Let Me Complicate You

18+ 4k homelander x f!reader. bickering, post-breakup sex, dubcon/coercion, angst, jealousy, emotional manipulation, implied murder, stalking, boundary smashing, breaking and entering, cunnilingus, penetrative sex. read on AO3. written as a follow-up to the breakup, but can be read as a standalone. gif credit.

Breaking up with Homelander is... complicated. After all, it is a god that loves you.

"What do I taste like?" You asked him once, drunk on pleasure and those early honeymoon days of loving him. He’d been slow to answer, thinking it over. "Love," he said at last. "Like you love me." You wonder if that holds true. If he can still taste love in you. If that’s why he’s so eager to devour you, or if the absence of it has made him even hungrier.

Homelander is an aberration.

Stronger than a hundred men, faster than a bullet and sharp as a tack all paired with a teaspoon’s depth of emotional maturity. He’s volatile, twisted, broken in ways no amount of therapy could ever hope to duct tape back together. He’s no better off than a dog that bites to kill. No matter how he got to this point, the best thing for him–for the world–would be to put him down by any means necessary.

Too bad you can’t seem to stop fucking him.

It’s late when you hear the front door open with a distinct crack. You’re sprawled out on the couch in the living room, one leg draped lazily over the armrest. What comes next is no surprise to you–a shock of primary colors filling the narrow doorway, a handsome face made ghoulish by the haunting light of the television in an otherwise dark room.

“You nailed the door shut,” Homelander says, the inflection of his voice somewhere between a question and a statement.

“Because you broke it,” you throw back, a stale Twizzler balanced between your lips. It had tasted good enough when you started eating it, but now–in his presence–the sweetness of it has turned sour.

“You changed the locks,” he says with a light shrug, cape swaying as he meanders towards you. “My key didn’t work.”

“Your key? Stealing a key to my house does not make it your key,” you say tersely, lifting your foot to press it firmly to his thigh, stopping him in his tracks.

He glances down, a mirthless smile tugging at the corner of his mouth before he catches your ankle in his gloved hand, yanking you down the couch so suddenly you lose your Twizzler to the floor with a gasp. It’s one thing to know that Homelander has strength enough to throw cars like frisbees. It’s another to feel it. It sends a rush of adrenaline through you like a jolt, followed swiftly by something hotter low in your naval.

“Y’know, I’ve been thinking,” he begins, dropping your ankle. He lifts his knee and slots it between your legs, his opposite boot on the floor, his hand braced on the back of the couch, pinning you in place.

“Don’t hurt yourself,” you cut in dryly, moving to shift up the couch, away from him. He snatches your shoulder, halting you with ease. His thumb strokes your skin idly, goosebumps erupting beneath his touch.

“And I’ve realized that this whole… thing between you and I, this ‘will they, won’t they,’ ” he says, bobbing his head side to side. “It’s getting stale. Don’t you think it’s about time we progressed the plot?” He asks, leaning in close.

You brace your hand against his chest, holding him in place as ineffectually as you did earlier. You both know it’s all a game. It’s all pretense. There had been fondness between you once–love, even–but you’re done with that now. You have to be done with it, or Homelander will swallow you whole. He’s a black pit, a murderer, and his need knows no end. He’ll destroy you and everything you know and love if he thinks it’ll satiate that need.

You’ve lost enough. You can’t afford to lose any more of yourself to him.

“Jesus Christ, you even think in TV script,” you say, pushing on his chest. He leans back, but not by much. It sends a terrible little chill down your spine. “I’m starting to think the only thing that might actually kill you is an original thought.”

His eyes narrow and his bright white teeth flash predatorily in the darkness. “You’re lucky I haven’t broken your neck,” he says, hand slipping from your shoulder to your throat. The sharp press of his thumb into your windpipe steals your breath, makes your thighs tighten on either side of his leg snug between yours. His lips split into an unkind grin. “Or maybe not. You’d probably like that.”

“You’re disgusting,” you spit, gripping his wrist with your other hand. Your pulse is starting to throb against the leather of his glove. He moves his thumb from your windpipe to your jaw and turns your head away, leaning in with a deep, pointed inhale along your neck.

“Is that why your hormones are going haywire? Because I disgust you?” He asks, grinding his thigh between your legs in a way that makes you gasp. “Y’know, given how full of it you are, I was sure I’d smell the bullshit on you. But all I smell… is how fucking wet you are.”

He grabs your hip and the memories come to you like muscle memory. How good it feels to be gripped and fucked and loved by someone beyond your comprehension. To feel as if you’ve stopped the world turning and called the sun itself to shine on you alone.

You twist your chin out of his grip and level him with a heated stare. “I hate you,” you hiss, grasping for the knife you know will twist the deepest.

It works for a second, his smug expression faltering, but only for an instant. His jaw sets, and his lips curl into that same unkind smile. “C’mon, babe,” he coos, the intimate familiarity woven into that pet name making your skin crawl. “We both know that I can always tell when you’re lying.”

He kisses you like he always has. Like you belong to him. In a way, you suppose you always will. There’s nothing you can do to pry your throat from Homelander’s jaws. Nowhere you can run that he won’t eventually find you. Like quicksand, the more you fight, the tighter he clamps down. Truth be told, though, that isn’t the worst of it. The worst of it is that the tighter he grips you, the less you want to fight him.

His tongue slithers into your mouth like a serpent into the garden and you bite down hard. While pliant between your teeth, the flesh doesn’t yield. It never will. He never will. Instead he moans a little chuckle that fades into a rumble against your lips.

“That how it’s gonna be?” He asks, the words rasped into your mouth. “Y’wanna bite and claw? Play hard to get?” He laughs, the sound of it reedy and light, like it’s all a silly little game of make-believe. “I can do that.”

He reeks of his own desperation for what he says to be true. More than anything, he wants to dress up his desires as yours. He wants to believe he’s giving you what you want. That way, he can trick himself into believing you need him.

He bites the middle tip of his glove and tugs it off with his teeth, tossing it aside. His bare thumb brushes your lip, smearing his spit and yours. “I saw you with that fucking loser,” he says, the airiness suddenly gone from his voice.

Your stomach drops. Two days ago you’d been with a man. You’d been so desperate to forget him that night that anyone would have done the job. You stumbled out with some nobody from the bar who’d been good enough for a sloppy makeout session in the back of his truck, but not good enough to bring home. It hadn’t ended well.

How close of an eye is Homelander keeping on you?

“I’d be angry if it hadn’t been so fuckin’ pathetic,” he says through his teeth.

“Liar,” you say tightly. You feel his fury in the tension of his body. He’s pissed that you’d seek this out anywhere else. As if he still has a claim over your body. Your pleasure.

His eyes flash up to yours. He sneers, pushing his thumb between your lips. “I watched you bite his lip until he bled. I watched him slap you,” he says, dragging the pad of his thumb along the ridges of your bottom teeth. The memories come to you as he speaks them, every moment of it made bleary by alcohol. “You wanted it rough, but he couldn’t handle you, could he? Because you’re used to something better. You’re used to a god.”

You sneer right back at him, yanking your head to the side, his thumb slipping from between your lips. “Could you be any more in love with yourself? Go fuck yours-”

“I still had to kill him, of course,” he continues nonchalantly, grinding your thoughts to a screeching halt. He laughs humorlessly. “For kissing you. And, well–for everything else, obviously. Slapping you,” he says, brushing his knuckles down your cheek. The same one the man had struck. “Humping your leg like a fucking dog.”

“Why are you doing this?” You ask, throat tight. Bile burns at the back of it. All you wanted was to get away from this. The blood, the horror of it. Yet no matter what you do to dissuade him, he brings death to your doorstep. “You have everything. You could have anyone. Why are you–”

“Because I want you,” he hisses, words so sharp his sharp teeth snap together. “Because I love you, and that’s what you do when you love someone,” he says. You can feel the accusation building in his words. “You don’t give up on them. And if that means cleaning up every dirty little mistake you make,” he says softly, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “So be it.”

A cold shiver rolls down your spine. You stare woundedly at him, lips parted, brows pinched together, the misery of it all etched into every line of your face. He stares at you in turn, and after a beat, his own hard expression softens.

“Hey, hey,” he says, the heat of his breath a ghostly kiss on your lips. “It’s okay,” he says, brushing the tip of your nose with his. “I forgive you.”

He kisses you again, more tender now. Your eyes prickle with tears. His gentleness hurts so much more than his violence. It disarms you, carries you to a time when things were simpler between you. Sweeter and warmer.

Homelander makes the world feel wonderful and dangerous, like standing in the middle of an electric storm. Being loved by him is the feeling of having your ribs cracked open, your heart cradled in his bare hands, possessive and bloody. What had been thrilling grew stifling, a feeling you realize now never truly went away.

He’s inescapable, literally and figuratively. Even when he isn’t inviting himself into your home or lurking in the periphery of your vision, Vought’s hero is plastered on every billboard and screen in the city. You haven't been able to breathe without inhaling the thick miasma of him.

Tears roll down to your temples as you kiss him back, both hands fisted in his soft hair, tugging. He makes a pleased little sound against your lips, teeth grazing your bottom lip. He’s always kissed like a man possessed–like every brush of your lips is a drop of salvation–but the hunger he’s developed since you tried to leave him is unparalleled. He kisses you like he means to devour you whole.

You bite back a sob, but the hiccuped noise of it catches his attention nonetheless. He breaks from you, looking down at you with a feverish mix of yearning, impatience and something that almost resembles pity, which might be the closest thing he knows to sympathy.

“Hey,” he coos, dusting your jaw with feather light kisses. “Don’t cry.”

“It’s awful,” you choke out.

“What is?”

“Your love.”

“I know,” he says after a prolonged pause. “It’s all I know.”

You look at him, the image of him bleary through your tears. There’s a morose resignation in his ocean-storm eyes, a distance that makes him seem far, far away from you, even as you taste the heat of his breath on your lips.

Focus returns to his gaze, and suddenly he’s present again. “It’s all I know,” he says again, his tone made of wood, stiff and splintering.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you lift your palm to his cheek, hovering just shy of touching. He’s pulled to it like a magnet, nuzzling into your palm, eyes closing. His hand slides down the familiar slopes of your body, settling at your hip, where his fingertips sink in like claws, the pressure of them shy. For as vicious as things have gotten between you, he’s never hurt you. A fact he lords over you as if he should be applauded for it.

I love you more than anything. You know that, right? That I would never do anything to hurt you? He’d asked you during that first fight. When everything went wrong.

You’d only been able to nod then, trapped with a man you didn’t recognize wearing the face of the man you loved.

That’s right. Of course you do. Because if I wanted to hurt you, I would have. It would have been easy, huh?

Despite how desperately you’ve tried to fortify yourself against him, it’s still so easy.

Homelander is an aberration, but so too is he a man, and there was a time when the man was all that you saw. When the monster at the core of him reared its head, bloody and unrepentant, that became all you could see in him. Now, the two are so irrevocably tangled in the sinew of the other, you’re never sure which you’re looking at.

“I miss you,” you confess to the man in him, voice so soft only his ears possibly could have discerned the words. As if you can hide the words from the monster lurking behind if you speak them quietly enough.

He looks as confused as your own aching heart. “I’m here,” he says, everything in his tone willing you to believe it. He doesn’t understand that you miss who he was before you knew what he was.

A mournful noise swells in your chest, but he kisses you before it can escape. “I’m here,” he says again, the hand at your hip turning into a fist in the fabric of your clothes, tearing them at the seams. “I’ll make you feel better,” he says between presses of his lips, hungry and rushing, like he can outspeed your miserable grief. “Let me make you feel good.”

Sex has always been an avenue of redemption for Homelander. Whether he’s frustrated, anxious, wounded or a combination of them all, he’s sought to remedy it through a good orgasm. He treats you as though the notion should hold true for you: the fight doesn’t count so long as he makes you come.

Yet again, you’re left stricken by him. As you have a dozen times before, all you can do is nod. Deep in your core, you know he’s right. He can make you forget this horrible ache in yourself, the grief and the fear. He can take you away to the dream you’d lived before you met the beast in his shadow.

Coherent thought turns to water slipping between the cracks of your mind as Homelander’s bare fingers brush your inner thigh. You suck in a sharp breath that leaves you as a shudder and you clutch at his collar, twisting the fabric, unsure if you mean to push him away or pull him closer.

Homelander makes the choice for you, closing the distance and kissing you too gently, too sweetly. You spur him with your teeth, needing it faster, harder. Needing it to hurt just enough to not feel entirely right. He ignores your prompt, focused wholly on tasting you, on sliding his fingers up into the waiting warmth between your thighs. He presses the pad of his middle finger to your clit, deft and familiar.

You sigh, closing your eyes, ready to lose yourself to the feel of something good. He slides serpentine down your body, kissing you through your shirt, nipping at your skin through the fabric for the way it makes you jump. His lips trail down until they pass the hem of your shirt, finding where he’s stripped you. His mouth is unbearably warm, breath hot huffs on your bare skin, goosebumps erupting everywhere.

He mouths at your hip, sucks the skin dark before trailing further down, leaving a constellation with his lips. The scorching wet heat of his tongue feels like a brand on your clit, replacing his hand with his mouth.

You thread your fingers into his hair, widening the spread of your legs to allow for the way he shoulders under and between them, lifting your lower half. He nuzzles into the nectary sweetness of you, moaning unabashedly for your familiar taste.

What do I taste like? You asked him once, drunk on pleasure and those early honeymoon days of loving him. Everything about him fascinated you; did his super smell lend itself to super taste? Could he pick out each note of you, dissect your profile into sections?

He’d been slow to answer, thinking it over.

Love, he said at last. Like you love me.

You wonder if that holds true. If he can still taste love in you, if that’s why he’s so eager to devour you, or if the absence of it has made him even hungrier. If he plunges his tongue to the core of you in the hopes he might discover lingering shreds of what the two of you once had.

A moan escapes you. His fingers bite into your thighs, tongue coaxing more. Restraint dissipating, you tighten your grip on his hair and tug, grinding hard against his mouth. He knows the stepping stones of your pleasure as well as you know yourself, knowing just when to suck, when to lick. He’s more relentless than any other man could hope to be, never needing to stop for breath, never succumbing to aching muscles. He maintains a pace that sends you careening so viciously towards release, you give a choking gasp when it hits you, your head thrown back against the couch as euphoric relief rolls through you in waves.

Homelander shrugs out from under your trembling thighs, his mouth slick and shining, eyes predator wide. You’re both panting, silently gauging the other. You’re first to break the standoff, his hunger infectious. You climb onto your knees and grab his shoulders, pushing his back to the couch, straddling him. He keens when you kiss him, an addictive sound that gives you a deceptive sense of power.

He murmurs your name in fervent repetition, dragging his mouth along your skin, inhaling you like a drug. You unbuckle his belt with the ease of experience, unzip his pants and slip your hand inside. Curling your fingers around his cock, you find it already hard and dripping in anticipation.

“Anything you want,” he breathes, the words coming between the prayer-like recitation of your name. “Money, diamonds, anything, I’ll make you a queen,” he says, eyelids fluttering at your touch. He pledges these things like an act of devotion, but you recognize this Faustian bargain for what it is. It will cost you your heart and soul.

“I’ll make you a god,” he moans at a particularly deft twist of your wrist.

Making you come will have to be enough for now.

“Fuck me,” you tell him breathlessly. “The way I like it.”

Like flipping a switch, the dazed pleasure in his eyes sharpens. The corners of his mouth tug, his upper lip twitches, eager tension slipping into his touch as his hands slide up your thighs, grasping your hips. His fingers sink in tight enough to bruise, despite the gentleness of his touch. The immeasurable power lurking within his unassuming frame is a novelty that never wears off, a thrill that shocks you to your core no matter how many times you experience it.

Like a vicious storm, he’s beautiful and terrible in equal measure. Caught in the eye of his maelstrom, the only thing left for you to do is weather him.

He guides you down onto his cock in one slow, agonizing pull. Even with his spit and your orgasm easing the way, it’s too much all at once. Relishing the aching burn of being split apart by him, you make a noise that gives him pause. You don’t let him stop. You brace your hands on his shoulders and lift off of him almost entirely before sinking back down deeper than you had before, wringing a moan from him in turn.

Homelander’s fingers dig securely into your back as your bodies slot together and find an old, familiar rhythm. By now he knows exactly the angle to take to best pleasure you. You let out a shaky sigh at the warmth that spreads through you, the pressure of your climax building, his heat sinking into you like the light of the sun itself.

You’re used to a god.

You cup his face and kiss him. You bite his lip until you should taste blood. You dig your nails into his skin so hard your knuckles ache. If he notices it, he’s only pleased by it.

“I’d move heaven and hell for you,” he swears between kisses, ripping the shirt from your body. The cool air hits your damp, hot skin like a shock.

“I don’t want them,” you say, voice catching on one of his sharp and sudden thrusts. He’s close. You can feel it in the tightness of his muscles, in the erratic, merciless way he drives into you.

“Doesn’t matter,” he says, voice reedy, tight. He kisses down your chest, scrapes his teeth over the swell of your breasts. “They’re yours. It’s all yours. I’m yours.”

Those words should hit you like a prison sentence, but they don’t.

They make you come.

Homelander holds you tightly as he, too, breaks into pieces, filling you with light and heat. He chokes more promises against your skin, kisses the salt from your skin and licks it greedily from his lips. You spin in place in his arms, dizzy on your own orgasm, riding out the aftershocks with his cock throbbing against the quiver of your cunt.

For a long while there’s nothing but the sound of your breaths and the distant din of the television. The tremors wracking your body gradually fade, and the chill of the open air begins to set in.

Homelander holds you tight as the sweat on your skin cools. He kisses a trail from your neck to your shoulder, nuzzling there before he rests his head down, face tucked into the crook of your neck. You feel wrung dry, eyelids heavy. You card your fingers absently through his hair, body boneless against his. Your eyes ache from crying, but you don’t mind it. Strung out like this, the aches left in the wake of pain and pleasure both feel equally good.

“It’s late,” he says warmly, a smile in his tone. He sounds lovesick, the way you both did once upon a time. Back then, you thought you knew every dark corner of his insatiable heart. “We should sleep.”

“Okay,” you agree, voice frayed. He lifts you gingerly from his lap, adjusting to cradle your naked body to his chest. Despite how Homelander unspools himself before you, you’re always the one left reduced. Bare and vulnerable both physically and emotionally. You slip your arms around his neck as he stands, resting your head on his shoulder.

“I could take you to the tower,” he whispers, sending a chill down your spine. “My bed’s bigger.”

“No,” you say, remembering a door you cannot reach, no matter how many times you grasp for it, and the god’s hands that sent you spinning. He’s already so capable of turning your home into a prison. You’re not sure you’d ever escape his penthouse. “I want mine.”

Perhaps the most terrible fact of all is that Homelander is neither a god nor a monster.

He is simply a man without limitation.

“Sure,” he says, kissing your cheek. The touch lingers, dripping with his adoration. “Anything you want.”

So long as it includes him.

#homelander x reader #homelander x you #homelander fanfiction #x reader #my writing #yandere x reader #dark fic

3K notes · View notes

gloxk · 10 months

Text

Sneaky linkin’

(Eren Y. Armin A. Connie S.)

A/N: i’m not COMPLETELY back, but I am making a slight improvement w my mental health… so here’s sum slight for yall🤷🏽‍♀️. I kinda hate this but maybe yall will like it..ion know. Luv ya tho. 17+.

Synopsis: Aot men as sneaky links.

Warning: Smut.. F/M

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Eren! ᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ່࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊ࠢ࠘𐡏 ———Back seat bandit

Eren..is definitely a back seat bandit. It’s mainly because he has a nice car, why not show it off?

Now, all i’m going to say is (Persian rugs- jacquees version.) Oh lawwwd, he definitely plays that while giving the most sloppiest, nastiest, messiest, back arching back shots ever. This man does NOT play.

Hair puller, choker, dirty talker. He’s the type to make you tell him how good he’s fucking you. “Uh-huh, right there? You like that baby?” And you better tell him too.

The hair pulling thing just comes by instinct. You could be giving this man the sloppiest head ever, deep throating him till hes hitting the back of your esophagus and all. The type of head that makes him feel like he’s shifting reality. He will tug your hair to get a real good look at your face, saliva dripping down your chin and red coating your face. A face that just screams ‘ Am I making you happy?’. He would stare at you with a shit eating grin just while the camera flash hits your face.

Degrading as fuck. He would just say some shit to boost his ego during sex. “I know you like that shit, stop acting like you don’t.” & “You can scream my name louder than that. Try again.” & “Stop fuckin running.” Don’t be fooled now, he’s also going to talk you through it and give you reassurance. “You doin so good f’me.” & “it’s all yours mami.” & “You look so pretty right now.”

Ugh this man just loves to have his hand wrapped around your body. Around your waist, neck, thighs, hands—it don’t matter to him. He loves touching on you. Any time yall link his hands just find their way over your body.

Connie! ᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ່࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊ࠢ࠘𐡏 ——— Any time any where

Connie..is the type of guy who can fuck ANYWHERE. Car, room, closet, random family bathroom at a gas station—he don’t care.

If you’re down, he’s down. Y’all could be out shopping and he fucks you in the dressing room.

This man LOVES when you ride him. He would just watch you in awe while you bounce up and down on him.

Definitely a talker during sex, he loves telling you how good you’re doing. “Mhm—fuck—I love when you do that.” & “Cmoonn look at me while you do it.” & “Arch that back mama.”

Now, he’s a recorder. He records everything. He has a little folder in his phone dedicated to your link ups.

Although he’s gonna dick you down anywhere he can, his favorite place is the shower. Got some music playing in the background (P power - gunna) while he’s plowing into you. The shower couldn’t even cover up your loud moans.

Pull out ? Nah, “You wanna be grown, let’s be grown baby.” He doesn’t believe in wasting, so either you sucking it up or taking that shit.

Armin! ᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ່࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊ࠢ࠘𐡏 ——— munch

Armin..is an eater. He’s gonna eat like it’s his last meal every fucking time. His tongue game is vicious. Absolutely diabolical, the messiest head you will ever get.

Salvia dripping on the couch, tears falling from your eyes due to overstimulation, legs locking around his head—he still wouldn’t stop. He won’t stop till you force him to.

Hold on now, Armin ain’t just an eater, he got good dick too. He’s a saint that’s gonna fuck you like a sinner. Let him get some liquor in his system and you’re going to be begging for round 2.

Speaking of drunk Armin, he’s gonna fuck you against a wall. Just something that’s going to happen one way or the other. One leg in the air while the other dangles just above the floor, his hands gripping on your ass so hard it leaves a mark.

Oh it doesn’t stop there either, he’s going to stumble his way to the bed and take you there too.

Hella vocal whimpering, moaning, whispering. He’s going to let you know your pussy good. “God-you feel so fuckin good.” & “Please keep doing that.”

Loves teaching you new things, different kinks, positions, anything of the sort. I know he just loves exploring and experimenting things with you. He’s a freaky freak for sure. <3

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whore…

3K notes · View notes

smileysuh · 5 months

Text

nerd

🌙 starring. Jeon Wonwoo x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. Look up at me for a moment, gorgeous,” Wonwoo commands, and you do as you’re told. He meets your gaze, his skin flushed from your mouth suctioning on his cock. “Just need to get your eyes right for your character,” he explains, threading his fingers through your hair and aiding you up and down on his throbbing length. “Such pretty eyes. You look so good staring up at me with your mouth stuffed full, baby.”

tw/cw. Unprotected sex, use of dragon knotted dildo toy, use of vibrator, multiple reader orgasms, blow job, dirty talk, slight power play/humiliation, clit sucking, overstimulation, pussy stretching, reader rides the toy then Wonwoo uses the toy to make her cum again, talking reader through it, mutual masturbation, Wonwoo strokes himself off to the reader using her toys, etc… I pet names: (hers) baby. (Wonwoo’s) puppy

👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 3.9k

🍭 aus. Established relationship au, gamer!Wonwoo, etc…

☀️ mlist + an. I know this is on the shorter side, it’s pwp, but I’ve been reading shorter things lately, and I’ve been insanely busy, so I figured a short and sweet fic couldn’t hurt after last month's near 20k meanie fic :)

You wake up to an empty bed, your hand stretching uselessly toward your boyfriend’s side of the mattress, to no avail. With a slight groan and a huff of sleepy annoyance, you wrap yourself tighter in your white duvet, searching for the energy to sit up.

A clicking sound has your brows furrowing, and you wrap your body tight in the blanket as you open your eyes to look around.

Wonwoo’s sitting at his gaming station in the corner of the room, large earphones snug around his head. For a guy who’s a bit of a night owl, you’re shocked he’s awake and playing video games right now, but as you stare at the screen, you realize what’s going on.

With the new Fallout TV show, Wonwoo’s been wanting to do another playthrough of Fallout 4. He’s been talking about it on Twitch streams for the better part of a week. Leave it to your boyfriend to get the energy to restart a video game at nine am on a Saturday morning.

As much as you love Wonwoo and what he does for work - being a streamer is his dream afterall - you kind of wish he was still in bed with you. He’d been up late gaming last night, and was too tired afterward to take care of your growing needs. You’re at the part of your cycle where you’ve been very horny lately, and you’d been crossing your fingers for morning sex, but by the way Wonwoo is locked in on his screen, you can guess that might not be in the cards.

You watch him a few moments longer, realizing that he’s not actively streaming. It looks like he’s just doing general character creation, but with a boyfriend as meticulous as Wonwoo, you know that could take a while.

Quietly slipping from bed, you wrap yourself in a kimono style robe that Wonwoo had got for you on a recent trip to Japan. You head to the bathroom, intent on completing your morning skin care routine, taking your time and brushing your teeth.

When you head back to your shared room with Wonwoo fifteen minutes later, your boyfriend looks like he hasn’t even moved a muscle aside from his twitching thumbs on the controller.

Approaching Wonwoo, you lean over the back of his chair, loosely guiding your fingers across his shoulders and down to his bare chest.

Wonwoo immediately takes his headphones off, turning to press a kiss to your cheek while you linger behind him.

“Good morning,” you breathe.

“Morning, baby,” he says, voice deep and crackly with exhaustion.

“Watcha doing?”

“Just making my Fallout character,” he responds smoothly, turning to look back at the screen. “I’m glad you’re awake actually.”

“Yeah?” you grin. “And why is that?”

“I’m almost done, and when I move onto my wife character, I want to model her after you. As good as my memory is, it’s probably better to have you here with me when I do it.”

God, he’s such a nerd.

You love him, your whole heart warming in your chest at the notion of him creating a wife character based off of you.

“Are you sure you want to put the time into that?” you ask. “We both know what happens to the wife within the first fifteen minutes of the game.”

Wonwoo only shrugs. “I woke up to your pretty face and I guess I was inspired.”

“Hey, puppy?” The pet name immediately draws his attention, and he turns to look at you, a smirk growing on his lips.

“Yes, baby?”

“Can you take a break for a bit?”

Wonwoo’s eyes scan you up and down, and then he sets his controller to the side, reaching for you instead. You allow him to lace his fingers with yours, drawing you in front of him. He positions you between his spread thighs, using his free digits to tug on the belt of your kimono robe. You don’t even need to verbalize what you need, Wonwoo knows you too well, and within seconds, your robe is opening to expose your naked body.

“I guess I didn’t really have the energy to take care of you last night,” Wonwoo admits, leaning forward to press his lips to the spot above your navel.

You let go of his hand in favour of threading your fingers through his curls, his hair teasing your sensitive skin as he presses kisses up toward your rib cage. He cups the back of your thighs, tugging you closer.

Wonwoo reaches your breasts, his tongue darting out to lick at the underside of your boob, eyes gazing up at you.

“How about a compromise?” he suggests, breath hot on your sensitive skin.

“A compromise?” Your words come out shaky as he takes your nipple into his mouth, sucking on it gently.

He hums against the sensitive bud, one hand lifting to massage your ass. Then, he pulls away from your breast, looking up at you with a grin. “I just wanna finish your character first.”

You let out a deep sigh, shaking your head at Wonwoo. You step away from him, but he grabs at your hand. “Kiss,” he instructs, and you begrudgingly lean down to press a chaste peck to his lips. His fingers thread through your hair, cupping the back of your skull to keep your mouth on his for a few moments longer, then he releases you.

“Should only take five or ten minutes,” he tells you. “And I need you here to model.”

“One second,” you groan, heading to your closet.

If he doesn’t want to fuck you right away, if he wants to prioritize his video game, that’s just fine. You can start without him.

You find a good sized toy, one of the dragon style ones that Wonwoo had been obsessed with a few months ago. He loves watching the coulourful, ribbed cock with a wide ‘knot’ base work you open for him, and fuck it, today feels like a good day for you to enjoy it too.

You also grab a trusty black vibrator and a bottle of lube for good measure before going back to your boyfriend.

Wonwoo doesn’t say anything as you sink to the ground, he simply pushes his chair back, giving you some space to settle under the table his computer is on. You can feel his gaze on you when you open the bottle of lube, squirting some onto the toy before suctioning it to the floor.

“Five or ten minutes, right?” you ask, easing over the head of the toy and facing your boyfriend.

“Uh huh,” he mumbles, looking down to watch the way you sink the head of the toy into your pussy. “Think you can get all the way down to the knot with that time frame?”

“Probably,” you groan, closing your eyes to enjoy the way the tip feels inside of you. “But… puppy, you haven’t fucked me in so long, I’m pretty tight.”

“You’ll work yourself open,” Wonwoo assures you, his attention turning back to his screen, although you can see his cock beginning to strain against the grey fabric of his sweatpants.

The tip of the toy is tapered compared to the base, with all sorts of ridges that stimulate your inner walls as you test yourself up and down. The lube makes it easy to slide an inch or two inside your aching core, and as much as you’d like to try to sink down fully, you want to go slowly with this, seeing as you have five to ten minutes.

You grab your vibrator, turning it up to a medium setting and placing it on your clit.

Your head is bowed, thighs already quivering as the sensation of the vibrator surges through you. A moan slips past your lips, your pace quickening on the toy, another inch sinking into you with your motions.

“That’s my good baby,” Wonwoo coos, reaching down to cup your cheek.

When you look up at him, you find his gaze still fixed to his computer screen, and it makes you angry.

You bite your lower lip, bouncing faster, harder- pressing the vibrator firmly to your clit in hopes that the pleasurable sensations will distract you from your growing annoyance.

“Wonwoo-” you groan.

“Puppy,” he corrects you.

“Please-”

“Please what?” your boyfriend counters.

“Fuck me?”

Wonwoo looks down at you finally, that shit eating smirk returning to his lips. “One cock inside of you isn’t enough right now, baby?”

“No, want your cock,” you insist.

“Okay, just remember, you asked for it, and I told you five or ten minutes.” Wonwoo sighs, lifting his hips and pulling his pants down, his hard length slapping up against his lower abdomen.

You’d meant you wanted his cock in your pussy, but you suppose you hadn’t specified what you wanted him to fuck-

Sucking Wonwoo off while he creates a video game character hadn’t been on todays bingo card, but you know how your boyfriend gets when he’s gaming, and you fear this might be the only way to have a piece of him while he’s focused.

Licking your lips, you pull him closer, the wheels of his chair dragging against the ground. With the hand not on the vibrator, you grab the base of his cock, adjusting so you can wrap your mouth around the tip.

Wonwoo releases a pleased groan, and you can feel your pussy clench around the toy.

Your eyes close, your focus going to the sensations ringing through your body. You take more of the dragon cock, slowly moving up and down on it in tandem with your mouth on Wonwoo. The vibrations on your clit are still making your legs shake, and as you get lost in the feeling of blowing your lover, you think you might cum pretty quick this way.

“That’s it, baby,” Wonwoo coos. “My good girl, being so patient.”

Fuck him for praising your patience. He knows lines like that make you eager to please him in this way, eager for more whispered words of affirmation even while he’s neglecting your aching pussy, fully content with you using a toy while he prioritizes his game-

“Look up at me for a moment, gorgeous,” he commands, and you do as you’re told. He meets your gaze, his skin flushed from your mouth suctioning on his cock. “Just need to get your eyes right for your character,” he explains, threading his fingers through your hair and aiding you up and down on his throbbing length. “Such pretty eyes. You look so good staring up at me with your mouth stuffed full, baby.”

Fuck. Your toes curl at his words.

If his skin wasn’t betraying the effect you’re having on him, you’d never be able to tell by the steady baritone of his morning voice. He’s not shuddering, not breathing deeply- it makes you want to suck on him even harder. You want to earn Wonwoo’s sounds of pleasure- sounds that can be so rare from a man who uses his voice for a living.

“Hows that cock feel inside of you?” he asks, gaze shifting up to his screen again. “Getting you nice and stretched for me, huh?”

You groan around his length, sucking roughly on his sensitive tip.

Wonwoo takes a sharp breath, and your body tingles with your success of earning a strangled sound from him.

“I’m almost done,” he assures you. “But I want to watch you take the knot first, be a good girl and sink down on the toy for me.”

You pull off of his cock with a popping sound, wiping a hand across your saliva wet lips. “What does it matter to you? You can’t even see me taking this.”

“True, but I know the sounds you make when you stuff yourself full with that toy. Wanna hear your pretty sounds baby.”

How is he so good at dirty talk while still staring at his computer screen?

“Nerd,” you whisper under your breath.

“Hmm?” He looks down at you with a grin, and you know he heard what you said.

“Nothing.”

“You’re gonna get it in two minutes,” he warns.

“Lucky me,” you say sarcastically, riding the toy faster, pushing yourself closer and closer to the wide base.

Wonwoo’s left hand finds his cock, and he begins to stroke himself while you focus on your own pleasure, rubbing the vibrator back and forth along your aching clit.

A whimper escapes you when you sink all the way down to the knot of the toy, hovering over the widest section.

“That’s the sound,” Wonwoo muses. “Come on, sink down on it.”

“I’m too tight,” you tell him, moving up and down, unable to go any further onto the knotted base.

“When you take it, I’ll take you,” Wonwoo promises, stroking his cock faster.

Looking up at him, you find your boyfriend staring at you now. He’s set the controller aside, and you have his full attention.

“Can’t you just fuck me right now?” you plead, motions stopping.

“I’m just a gamer nerd, remember, baby? Isn’t it my job to watch an angel like you make herself cum on some stupid toy before I get a taste?”

Fuck.

He makes it sound like he’s the victim here, although clearly you’re the one aching for him.

“Puppy,” you groan, looking down and focusing on taking the knot. “I’m not wet enough-”

“Then cum. Use your vibe and make yourself cum, should make it easier.”

“But I want you,” you whine.

He laughs. “Brat.”

“Nerd,” you fire back.

Wonwoo’s grin only widens. “Be a good girl, make yourself cum, take the dragon knot-”

“Anything else?” you huff, rubbing the vibrator hard on your clit.

“Yeah, one more thing.” Wonwoo sits back smugly in his chair, spreading his thighs even wider. “Suck my balls.”

You narrow your eyes at him. Sucking his dick is one thing, but sucking his balls? Generally with past boyfriends, you’ve stuck to their cocks- but Wonwoo has a very specific way of challenging you to do things like this.

He knows you can’t refuse. He carries all the cards. If you want his dick inside of you, you’re going to have to do this for him. It’s not like you hate sucking balls, it’s not like you’ve ever voiced it to him that this is a boundary for you, it’s just… regularly, you’d rather… well, you’d rather not.

But you suppose this is what you get for calling him a nerd.

With a sigh, you lean forward, licking at the space just below the fingers wrapped around the base of his cock.

“Don’t be shy,” he tells you.

You decide to focus mainly on your own pleasure while you take one of his balls into your mouth. He’s doing this to degrade you, to get back at you for being impatient- but at the same time, from the contented groan that leaves his lips, you know Wonwoo’s sensitive in this area.

His sounds do make things easier for you, and you close your eyes, rubbing your clit hard with the vibrator.

“That’s it,” he coos. “I love it when you’re a good girl for me.”

You whimper at his words, your core throbbing desperately.

“Better be fast and cum though, I’m not sure I can handle much of this, you’re just so good with your mouth.”

And now he’s threatening to not even fuck you? He’ll stroke himself to the finish line if you don’t cum first?

This man will be the death of you.

“Come on, baby, I know you want to cum,” he encourages you. “Be a good girl and just do it, cum from that vibrator and the dragon cock inside your tight fucking pussy.”

His words are the last straw and you pull off his balls to let out a deep groan. You bury your face against his thigh, pussy fluttering as your orgasm slams into you. Your walls contract around what you can take of the toy, and you feel a rush of wetness coat the silicon, helping you bob up and down even faster-

“That’s it,” Wonwoo breathes, rubbing his cock even faster. “Just a little more and I’ll fuck you.”

You whimper like a whore in heat, biting gently against Wonwoo’s thigh as you push yourself to sink further onto the toy, your inner walls screaming at you due to the stretch.

“Good girl,” your boyfriend praises you, petting you with a warm hand that makes your entire body ache.

You turn the vibrator off, nearly overstimulated. Tossing it to the side you focus on the dildo, feeling your pussy stretch to accommodate part of the knot.

“Almost there,” Wonwoo says, and by the way he’s stroking his cock, you’re not sure if he’s talking about you or himself.

“Wonwoo, please,” you beg. “I can’t-”

“You’re the one who wanted to be filled today, just take a little more and I’ll fill you,” he says, his motions faltering on his length.

You grab at his thighs, squeezing and using him for leverage to rock up and down on the toy. Your eyes clench shut as you bob up and down, your wetness coating the silicon until-

You let out a gasp as you sink fully onto the toy, pausing while your thighs quiver. Another mini orgasm rushes through you at the feeling of being stretched this way, the knot stuck in your sensitive hole-

“That’s it,” Wonwoo says, moving into action immediately. He pushes away from you, standing up. Hands that are surprisingly gentle reach down and pull you to your feet, making you cry out from the way the toy is still lodged inside of you. “Fuck, you are tight,” he notes from the way the dragon cock didn’t immediately shoot out of you from the change in position.

“Puppy-” you whimper, already delirious.

Wonwoo helps you onto the bed, sinking to his knees at the foot of the mattress. He spreads your thighs, and you look down to see his pupils blow with lust while he stares at the large toy still embedded in your pussy.

He licks his lips. “Fuck, I always love it when you take this fucking knot.”

You whisper his name, moaning loudly when he grabs the base of the toy and gently thrusts it in and out of you.

Then, he shifts, and his tongue finds your clit. “One more?” he practically pleads. “Then another when I’m inside of you?”

It’s been days since he’s made you cum, and it feels like today, he’s going to make up for that. You can bet that by tonight, you’ll have lost track of how many times you’ve orgasmed, and you honestly don’t mind.

“Please,” you whisper, reaching down to thread your fingers in his sleep tossled curls.

Wonwoo wraps his lips around your clit, gently rocking the toy inside of you. He doesn’t pull it all the way out, just shifts the knot along your sensitive walls, stretched to the limit and already throbbing.

“Fuck, that’s so good, puppy,” you groan, throwing your head back, eyes clenching shut. You begin to rock your hips, feeling impossibly full- his mouth suctions lewdly around your sensitive bud and your entire body quakes, thighs shaking on either side of his head. “Shit-”

Wonwoo grins against your pussy, an invitation for you to cum on the toy-

Fuck, you need him so badly, and your need spurs your body on, your muscles clenching as you teeter on the edge of an orgasm.

His teeth graze your clit and that’s all you need to topple over the edge, your legs attempting to close around Wonwoo while your pussy throbs desperately around the toy. The sounds escaping you now are practically inhumane, your entire body overtaken by white hot pleasure that courses through you like an electric wave.

Wonwoo pulls the toy from your core and you jolt from the loss, eyes opening to stare down at your boyfriend-

He releases your clit from your mouth, standing quickly. “Fuck, you look so good cumming on that stupid toy,” Wonwoo groans, grabbing the base of his cock and lining his tip up with your still aching pussy. “Gonna fill you now, like I promised.”

He sheaths himself inside of you and you let out a loud moan of releif. “Puppy,” you whimper, making grabby hands at him.

Wonwoo wastes no time, shifting his knees onto the bed, getting on top of you so he can press his lips to yours. Your tongues begin to clash immediately, and the kiss feels almost feverish as you tangle your fingers in his curls.

He’s such a good kisser, but you can hardly focus on his lips with the way his hips are already moving, thrusting so the tip of his cock hits your cervix with each motion-

“Fuck, fuck-” you whimper, feeling tears in your eyes from the overstimulation.

Wonwoo’s mouth finds your throat, his mouth narrowing in on your sweet spot, sucking roughly.

“Puppy-” you cry, tangling your legs tighter around his hips.

“I know, I’m close too,” he pants. “Watching you take that fucking knot just does something to me-”

Your core throbs at his words- you’d guessed he’d been close while jacking off, but hearing him say it this directly makes you even hornier. Your pussy is a sloppy mess, so wet that each thrust has it practically squelching.

“Please, puppy, please-” you pant, nuzzling against his cheek and licking at his sensitive ear. “Want your cum, want it so bad.”

“Fuck,” Wonwoo groans. “Rub your clit, need you squeezing me when I cum.”

You shove a hand between your bodies, nearly crying from the sensitivity of your overworked bud- but you’re not about to give up now. You’re not a weakling, and if Wonwoo wants one more orgasm out of you, you’ll give him one.

“Feels so good,” you gasp, rubbing even harder, your core clenching tight around Wonwoo’s cock while he pants loudly in your ear.

“Need you to cum,” he grits out, fingers digging into your hips. “Come on, baby, cum for me.”

You shut your eyes tight, focusing on all the pleasure surging through you, and when Wonwoo bites gently into your throat, your high hits you straight on.

You gasp loudly, back arching off of the bed, pushing your tits toward Wonwoo’s chest. He releases his own sound of pleasure, and you can feel his cock throbbing while your walls clench around him, painting your insides as you both cum hard.

You listen to his moans, loving the way he grabs you tightly as he cums, his thrusts faltering, motions shallow, as if he wants to be as deep as possible when he fills you up.

Your lips find his throat, pressing kisses there that make him shiver as you ride out your orgasms, and soon, your muscles are relaxing, the tightness making way for a slacked, exhausted feeling that overwhelms you.

Wonwoo stills on top of you, panting loudly by your ear.

“I think…” he swallows thickly. “I think we should go back to sleep now.”

You laugh, petting his curls. “What about your precious video game?”

“Fuck the video game,” he counters. “Right now, I’m going to clean you up, go back to sleep with you curled on my chest, then we can wake up in a few hours, do it again, get takeout-”

“You have the whole day planned out, don’t you, nerd?”

Wonwoo only laughs. “Don’t test me, baby.”

“Never.”

☀️ mlist + an. Thank you so much for reading! As much as I love longer fics, I'm such an avid reader of pwp for the anime's I watch, so I wanted to do something shorter and easier for those who like a bite sized fic instead of a full course meal :)

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🔮 preview. “That’s it,” Wonwoo coos. He simply can’t help his dominant tendencies. How is it that you’re supposed to be the one in control, but it still feels like he’s got you wrapped around his finger... And his cock.

cw/ tw. Unprotected sex, handcuff bondage, reader tries to dom Wonwoo, edging, oral, blow job, pussy eating, 69, choking, dirty talk, pet names, reader is slightly in control, Wonwoo breaks the handcuffs, slight crying/dacryphilia, power dynamic, power switch, teasing, creampie, slight fallout roleplay, masturbation, deep throating, etc… I petnames. (hers) baby (his) puppy, sir

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 3k I teaser wc. 130

🌙 starring. Wonwoo x afab!Reader

bonus

“Hey, puppy?” you call, standing in the doorway of your bedroom, watching your boyfriend close up his stream for the night.

“Yes, baby?”

The nerd doesn’t even look up from what he’s doing, but you suppose that’s no new behaviour. With a huff, you disconnect from the door frame, sauntering over to Wonwoo, your skin tight outfit squeezing you with each step.

Leaning over his back, you allow your hands to dance across his chest, Wonwoo looks down, and that’s when you get his attention.

His body goes rigid, and he slowly turns to look at you, taking in the full body Fallout Vault dweller costume you’re wearing.

“Baby…” Wonwoo lets out a chuckle, “what are you doing?”

“Playing into your addiction,” you say smoothly. “What, you don’t like it?”

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2K notes · View notes

la2yn0va · 4 months

Text

Self-aware Honkai Star rail characters opinion on you being a streamer.

Characters: Acheron, Jingliu, Aventurine, Dr. Ratio

————

Acheron

“How… irritating” she said her annoyance overtaking her entire mood and body language. Being forced to be on stage for people SHE didn’t nor about NOR care about.

Why must you make her suffer like this? She loves you, with all her being. But why are you airing her out to the world.. those ‘viewers’ of yours.

And that’s another thing. How do they get to watch you? You shouldn’t make yourself a fool for such unworthy humans. Have they even offered you a thing?

“Ayyy~ thanks for the bits and 20”

….you’d allow them your gaze for a mere 20 credits? (Money) either your benevolence shines brighter, or it’s blinding you.

“Chat what do we think of Acheron? I fuckin’ love this woman, she’s SOOO fuckin’ helpful for grinding and destroying the enemies… white bar health… yeah cause that’s what it’s called…please don’t clip that…”

Acheron could feel herself blushing, so she quickly performs her idle animation, leaning against her sword trying to hide the blush and smile slowly forming on her face.

Chatter—“She’s good, but she keeps taking your attention from us :,(”

Instantly her giddiness is sucked away and locked in a coffin as utter annoyance and disdain grips her with an iron fist “Storm's on the horizon, heading towards you”

“That was perfectly fucking timed… did that sound different to anyone else?” Despite acherons slip up, that hatefulness holds her tighter, refusing to let go.

In short, She loves you-she’s OBSESSED with you. But she WILL kill these ‘viewers’ if they stary your attention away from her one more time.

Jingliu

“What makes THEM so deserving of your gaze?”

Jingliu is similar to Acheron, but tripled. Unlike Acheron, she doesn’t bother to hide her hatred for those viewers.

Chat: Yo (Streamer Name) you should-

Jingliu: Your Ready for death.

She says it like a statement and not a question. She hates these creatures who take your gaze off of her, she hates how a measly 5 credits is enough to get your attention.

Your benevolence is your best quality, but also the one that’s easily manipulated, which simply makes her despise the fact that you’re TOO kind.

Jingliu hates the fact that your a streamer more then her not being able to ‘cut the stars’ with her sword. Why must you test her loyalty like this?

Is this even a test or a punishment for her crimes? Either way, this is too cruel. Being forced in the sidelines for a bunch of people who don’t offer you anything of value.

Is her crit damage/rate not good enough for you? Are her stellar jades not of the highest quality? Perhaps her blade needs more… BLOODSHED.

Unlike Acheron, jingliu would VERY MUCH commit crimes to gain your attention. Like breaking the fourth wall, taking an enemies or allies turn to attack, KILLING her allies so that your attention would be on her completely.

In short, she’s a much more blunt and unrestrained Acheron.

Aventurine

“Such Troublesome detractors…”

Out of everyone in the game, he’s definitely the most laid back about your occupation. Mostly due to his luck.

Course he’s annoyed that some no-named randoms are taking the attention from his god off of him for seconds, but it’s really nothing.

It’s extremely lucky that the characters haven’t killed him out of jealousy (see what I did there?) This fuckin’ Avgin gets the most attention thanks to his kit and luck.

Y/n: Thanks for the Dono-

Aventurine: Eyes on me~

Y/n: Ooo~ yes sir~

Aventurine has a UNIVERSAL shit-eating grin while others are glaring death incarcerated soul-sucking daggers into him.

Aventurine would probably join in on the thanks if a viewer sends you money/bits/cheers n’ shit.

Not much to really say here, he’s just laid back to the whole thing.

Dr. Veritas Ratio

“Stop this nonsense. Immediately”

Dr. Raito fuckin growls anytime everytime you boot up the game, cause he knows 99.9% of the time your going to be joined by those brainless viewers.

He’s completely baffled as to why a being such as yourself would degraded yourself to such… idiocy.

There’s only two possible reasons as to why you’d commit such acts. 1. Your benevolence blinds your logical reasoning, 2. You… enjoy it.

Dr. Ratio’s opinion on the viewers is that their brainless insects, he doesn’t even care enough to be annoyed by them, they’re just THAT low level of importance to him.

Y/n: Hey “Streamer Name” who’s your favorite character?

Dr. Ratio: Do you have answers?

Y/n: I- that was perfectly timed.. DO infact have answers. It’s (anyone that isn’t him)

Dr. Ratio: Fail… Get Out!

(If it is him)

Dr. Ratio: Perfect… Twenty Points.

————

What we thinking about this one chat?

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loving-barnes · 5 months

Text

LOGAN HOWLETT - A LITTLE GAME

A/N: New Wolverine one-shot. I tried and... I don't know. I like the beginning and then it's like.. okay? Let me know your thoughts.

Pairing: Logan Howlett x mutant female reader

Warning: I have decided not to give proper warnings. I don't want to spoil the story. BUT please, only 18+. Minors DNI.

Words: 4000+

Important note: HughJackman!Wolverine (so he's tall!)

FULL MASTERLIST | LOGAN HOWLETT MASTERLIST

LOGAN HOWLETT - A LITTLE GAME

Everyone was looking for her - Magneto’s brotherhood, the X-men, the Avengers and god knows who else. They all wanted her - for good, for bad, to use or to kill. She became the biggest threat in a matter of seconds. That’s why Logan had to be the one to find her first.

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get her for months. She was sneaky, using her power to hide from the whole world, even from him. Leaving the continent would be too risky. She had to stay in the States, right? Maybe Canada?

It all happened so fast. There was a moment where he questioned everything. In the end, he wanted to fight for her… with her. Was there still a chance he’d find her? She could be anywhere. Surprisingly, Logan never lost hope.

One day, Logan got a tip from some random skanky woman who approached him in a New York dive bar. He was drinking his daily dose of whisky, head lost in thoughts. He had her picture, looking at it. Such an innocent yet powerful being. His heart ached.

“I know her,” the woman approached him out of nowhere. She leaned against the bar, smiling. Her eyes were locked on the photo. “Pretty girl.”

Logan’s eyes found hers, frowning. “Where is she?” he asked angrily.

She chuckled. “Now hang on, sugar,” she sat next to him, exposing her long smooth legs. The miniskirt didn’t leave anything to the imagination. Logan’s eyes travelled from her legs, all the way up to her face, but he was not interested. “How about a drink first?”

He reached for his drink. It went down his throat in a second. He smashed the glass against the bar, shattering it. His eyes darkened. The adamantium claws got out, pressing them against the woman’s throat. Logan was not in a mood to play around.

People gasped. They were afraid. A mutant in a bar threatening other humans was unacceptable. Guns were loaded and pointed at him. Logan didn’t care.

The woman yelped. Fear crept into her eyes. “Tell me where she is or you won’t be able to see the sun rise again,” his voice was low, intimidating.

“S-strip club, down the street,” she managed to get out of her throat. Her body was visibly shaking. “I saw her there. She was there an hour ago. P-please, don’t hurt me.”

He didn’t say anything. The claws retracted back under his skin. Logan was out of the bar in seconds, heading down the street to the club where the woman said she spotted the one he was looking for. His heart beat fast. Was he finally about to get her? It’s been months.

Everyone wanted the most powerful mutant on the planet. Some wanted to use her, others wanted to destroy her. Logan wanted to get to her sooner than the rest of the world. All he desired was to protect her.

She’s more powerful than Jean ever was, said Charles to him not long ago. They didn’t have a name for her. No one knew where her power reached, or what her limits were. Jean’s dark side was destroyed with the help of the Scarlett Witch. With Y/N, they didn’t know what to expect. Was she worse than the Dark Phoenix?

Expect the unexpected, said Charles to Logan once he decided to bring her back.

Logan’s eyes locked on the big pink neon sign of the strip club. He sighed. Of course, she would hide somewhere in plain sight. Who would try to find a woman like her in a place like this? She was the kindest teacher. Innocence was her second name. Everyone would expect her to flee the country, or hide in the mountains. No, she hid under their noses in the city that never sleeps.

Expect the unexpected. Well, shit, he didn’t expect this at all.

He entered the club. The heavy smell of cigarettes and sweet perfumes hit his nose. The lights were flashing as the girls kept dancing around the poles. They slowly undressed for the crowd of hungry eyes. Men were holding bills in their hands, roaring and whistling, ready to throw them at the women.

Drinks were poured into glasses and onto women’s exposed breasts. Some wished to lick them, to feel their flesh and alcohol on their tongues.

Some ladies brushed their hands against Logan’s shoulders and arms to get his attention. The fake smiles and lustful gazes did nothing for him. They talked to him and tried to seduce him. He remained focused on his goal. His eyes travelled around the place, trying to glimpse Y/N.

Flashes of images hit his mind. He remembered it all - the laughs, the drinks, the simple days back in the X-mansion. The day when their lips first touched, he knew he was a goner.

Logan huffed, anger rising inside of him. Would she sell her body to all those creeps in here? Would she dance for them to make money? The thought of other men touching her body made his blood boil. Logan was sure that if he saw a man touching a piece of Y/N’s skin, he would slice his arm with his claws.

There was no sign of her. Was the woman from the bar lying to him? Was this a trap? Logan’s fists clenched. He had to be careful. Even a place like this could be dangerous. God knows who’d own this place.

Somewhere in the haze, he noticed the familiar eyes watching him. Their colours sparkled in the flashing lights. She was like a goddess, walking around the mist and colours with her long satin robe flying around her. Logan could smell her from afar. The scent was overpowering his senses.

One blink, she was gone. Was he hallucinating? He sighed. His mind had to be playing tricks on him. Or was it her?

Logan.

Her voice rang in his ears. He could smell her more as if she was closer than before. Logan’s body twisted and turned, trying to find her in the crowd. He was sure she was here, watching him like a hawk.

There was a lingering touch on his shoulder. It moved from one side of the shoulder to the other, fingers lightly pressed against his flannel shirt. He could feel the electric touch that belonged to her.

“Y/N,” he breathed her name. No one would be able to hear him over the loud music. “Stop the games.”

He heard a group of women laugh. His eyes moved to them. They gave lap dances to some businessmen. Their hands were all over their bodies.

Again, his nose caught Y/N’s scent. It was so close, closer than before. When his eyes looked forward, he could see her in her full glory. He cursed. Was he supposed to be aroused or upset?

First, he noticed the exposed legs and high heels on her feet. Then there was the dazzling dress that hugged her curves perfectly. Her breasts were about to pop out of that damn outfit. And then there was the damn satin robe. Fuck! Her dress was provocative. Compared to the other strippers, Y/N was wearing more than the rest of the ladies in the club.

What happened to the woman who radiated pure innocence? This was someone else, someone new. Did she have a dark side that decided to wake up from its slumber?

Still, his jeans felt tighter than before.

His legs moved towards her. Logan got through the dancing women who tried to reach for him some more. They wanted a piece of him. When was the last time a man like him walked into a place like this? His eyes and mind were only on one woman.

“Don’t run,” he said to himself. He knew Y/N would hear his words.

Logan knew the game wasn’t over when he heard laughter inside his head. He was close until he wasn’t. She was gone once again. “Dammit, Y/N. Stop this.”

Again, he felt a pair of hands on his shoulder. This time they pushed him down. His ass ended on something soft, comfortable. It was a chair. Where did that come from?

“Want a dance?” He felt a hot breath close to his ear. The touch remained. Logan knew this wasn’t a trick. She was behind him. “I can help you relax.”

Logan had enough of her shit. He swiftly grabbed her wrist, pulling her to him. He was impatient. Her face appeared in front of his. He lost his breath for a second. The red lips, the glitter in her hair… he wanted to devour her. There was a smirk plastered on her face.

“Strip club?” Logan growled. “What the fuck?”

Y/N lazily climbed on his lap, pressing her core onto his forming erection. She bit her lower lip and rested her hands on his broad shoulders. “What’s the matter, Lo’? Don’t you want to have some fun?” she titled her head, raising a brow.

He gritted his teeth. “I’ve been looking for you for months,” he said, angry. “And I find you here? Of all places?”

“It’s good, isn’t it?” she blinked a few times. “Who would have thought that little ol’ me would hide here?”

His hands gripped her hips tightly. He inhaled her sweet perfume. He needed to get straight to the point before he’d lost his mind. “Why did ya run?”

Y/N glared at him. “What kind of a stupid question is that?” she pushed her body from his a little. She had to get a better look at him. “All of you turned against me. One mishap and I became the villain.”

Y/N’s mutation evolved into something no one has ever seen before. It brought the attention of other groups that wanted her neck, or power. The Professor admitted she represented something beyond explanation. Inhuman was the word he used? It was new, dangerous. Fingers were pointed, threats had been made. Everyone pushed until she ran from the X-mansion and left everything behind. Now everyone was after her - the X-men, the Avengers and Magneto. Fuck, she even heard that the government wanted her. God knows how many organisations and bounty hunters were trying to get her. Rewards were made. The numbers had seven figures or more.

Logan’s eyes widen. One of his hands sneaked behind her neck, pulling her closer to him. “I didn’t.”

“Fuck, right,” she rolled her eyes. “When you found out what I could do, you stepped away. I can remember the betrayal in your eyes. Or was it fear? Were you afraid, Logan?” her nose brushed against his. “Were you scared of me or this?” she pointed between them. And then, she pushed away from him.

His right hand gripped Y/N’s hair and pulled on it, exposing her neck. Logan pressed his nose to it, inhaling her sweet scent. “Don’t ever say shit like that,” he threatened. “I was never scared of what was going between us.”

Y/N moved her head and pressed her lips to his ear. “Or did you realise you still wanted Jean?” She hit a sensitive spot. There was a history between Jean and Logan. Y/N knew damn well nothing ever happened between them. The redhead’s eyes were only on Scott. And yet, she had to dig into it.

Logan’s hand moved to her neck, squeezing it. He made her look at him. Even in the dim lights, his eyes darkened. He hated those words that had escaped those pretty red lips. “Stop it,” he growled. “You mean more to me than she ever did.”

Y/N rolled her hips slowly, grinding on his noticeable bulge. Logan moaned with every movement she did. The grip on her throat never loosened. With the flashing lights and changing colours, the tension between them thickened.

“You are lying,” she challenged him.

He squinted at her. “You know damn well I don’t lie, princess.”

Y/N grabbed him by his stupid flannel shirt from all the irritation. “You never reached for me after everything that went to shit!”

“You destroyed a skyscraper in New York,” he told her with a calmer tone. “A fucking skyscraper. Your mutation evolved with a snap of the fingers. No wonder the shock, the fear or everyone’s need to get their hands on you.” Logan pulled her face closer to his. Their lips almost touching. “Before I could collect my thoughts, process what the fuck had happened and get to you, you ran away.”

She squinted at him. “You pulled away from me,” she blamed him.

“I didn’t,” he tightened the grip on her throat. She moaned. “I’ve been looking for you for months - months! You think I’d do that if I pulled away? Do you think I’d pick Jean over you? Don’t think so little of me, princess.”

A rain of flashing lights started. Logan had the perfect chance to see her face. The red lips, the sparkle in her eyes. He saw the whole universe in them.

“Why here?” he had to ask. “Of all places, why did you hide here?”

She showed him her bright smile. “You’d never expect a good girl hiding in a place like this. It kinda worked.”

And then she snapped her fingers. The people around them stopped moving. They became living statues. The music kept going, the lights still flickered and changed. Logan’s eyes widened. His head moved from side to side. Powerful, that’s what Y/N was. And beautiful. Sexy. Dangerous. Good. Her heart was still good. He had to believe.

Waves of anger flashed through his body. It was still a play. If she wanted to play, he would obey - under his rules. “Tell me, baby girl,” the hand from her throat slid down to her breasts. The other hand joined. They squeezed them through the fabric. It made her hips roll some more. “Did you let any of the guys here touch you?” he tilted his head.

Her head tilted back as she enjoyed his big hands on her chest. His nose found her pulse on her neck, pressing his lips to it. He sucked a mark on her neck. “Baby girl, you are mine and only mine,” he growled into her ear.

“What makes you think I’m yours?” she tried to fight back.

“If I was anyone else, you’d use all your powers to get rid of me. Maybe even kill me. You didn’t,” he stated.

��I’d never kill anyone for fun, Logan,” she said. “You know that damn well.” She leaned closer to his face. “I’d never hurt you.”

Their lips met in a kiss that brought colours to their minds. Each colour represented a different plea. I miss you. I need you. I want you. I love you. It was messy, it was sweet. Their tongues danced and explored. It was needy, it was deep. It’s been months since they last shared a passionate kiss.

It brought tears to Y/N’s eyes. As much as she wanted to be strong, in front of him, she couldn’t. He was like a home she never had. Her heart ached that she had to leave him. But what was there to do when they all turned against her? She believed Logan did too.

Logan felt he was falling. Everything around him felt light. And then his back fell onto something soft. The chair under his ass was gone. He grunted, breaking the kiss. There was a bed under his body. “What the shit?” he was confused. “Where are we?”

“Champagne room,” said Y/N who sat on top of him, still fully clothed. The only thing missing was the satin robe. “For some privacy.”

He raised a brow. “And here I thought you’d wanted to give those living statues a show.” That’s when he heard laughter from behind the walls. The people were moving again.

Y/N’s thumb swiped over Logan’s lips. They were stained from the red lipstick she wore. Before she retracted it, he pressed a kiss to it. “Since when did you learn to teleport?” he asked. “Last time I checked, you didn’t know how to do half of what you did today.”

“Just a mind trick, no teleportation,” she said.

Logan wrapped his arms around her waist and abruptly jumped on his feet. He held her tightly until he smashed her back against the nearest wall. She lost her breath for a moment. “I’m not fucking you on that disgusting bed. God knows how many people fucked on it before us.”

“Shame,” she shrugged. “I thought you liked it dirty.” Y/N’s legs clenched around his waist.

Logan’s lips were back on hers in a hungry kiss. When one of his hands reached down to her covered heath, she moaned into his mouth. “There’s the pretty sound,” he chuckled. His lips moved to her neck where he kissed and nibbled on her skin until he left another mark there. That’s when his fingers found the strap of her thong, ripping it off her in one harsh pull.

He looked into her eyes, grinning like a devil. “I can feel how wet you are for me, pretty girl.” His middle finger had buried deep inside of her. “Did other men make you this wet?”

Y/N whined. “I’d never let any other man touch me, Logan,” she confessed.

He tilted his head. This time, two fingers slipped inside of her, fucking her with them. “Then why hide in a strip club?” He curled his finger, hitting a sweet spot.

“Ah! I knew no one would ever come looking for me here,” she gasped every time his fingers brushed against the place that made her toes curl. “Fuck, fuck!”

“Is that so?” he kept questioning her.

She tried to swallow the moans. “I’ve protected the girls from the perves,” she cried.

“God, you are dripping.” His fingers left her core and went straight to his mouth, tasting her. “Pretty princess, you taste divine,” he smirked. Immediately, his lips pressed against her in a messy kiss.

His body pressed hers even more onto the wall as one of his free hands went to his jeans to get out his painfully hard dick. He pressed the tip against her entrance, pushing it slowly in.

“Ah, shit,” she cursed. Her mouth was wide open as she felt every inch of him.

Once he bottomed out, his lips kissed her gently. “Taking my cock like the good girl you are,” he praised.

“Logan,” she moaned his name. “Please, fuck me.”

He pulled out slowly, leaving just the tip in. “Since you asked so nicely,” and he thrust back into her, making her squeal. She clenched around his cock with every move he made. “Doing so good, princess,” he praised her. “Taking me so well.”

It was fast, intense. Before she knew it, Y/N felt her orgasm approaching. One of his hands was already between their bodies, circling her clit. “Fuck, so close,” she mumbled incoherently. “Logan… Logan, please…”

“Hold it, Y/N,” he ordered. “I’m almost there too.”

“I… c-can’t,” she whined. Tears appeared in her eyes. The pleasure was surprisingly intense. Many feelings wanted to burst out into the open. Their lips pressed together in a sloppy kiss. He kept pounding into her as they tried to swallow each other’s moans.

What if this was for the last time? What if this would be their goodbye?

Her insides clenched around his cock as she reached her peak. Her breath quickened. She became a moaning mess while he kept fucking her through her orgasm.

“I’m gonna fill you up, pretty girl,” he announced, staring into her eyes. His breath got lost as the release came, painting the insides of her walls white. The thrusts slowed down until he remained buried inside of her while his cum slowly dripped down his dick.

Logan’s eyes found hers in a post-orgasmic haze. “So pretty,” he grinned. He watched as she tried to catch her breath. “My beautiful baby girl.”

Slowly, he pulled out of her. Y/N gasped once she felt empty. Carefully, Logan pulled her from the wall and put her legs on the floor. He held her tightly. “Fuck,” she cursed.

“You good?” he asked.

Her eyes lifted, meeting his. She smiled at him. “Yes,” she nodded.

Logan put back his jeans while she fixed her already short, slutty dress. There was silence. With each passing second, it got heavier and more awkward.

“I love you,” Logan confessed his feelings. One of his hands reached for her cheek, stroking it with a thumb. “I love you, princess. Goddammit, I fucking love you.”

Her eyes kept scanning his face. These words were never said before. This was new. Y/N’s heart wanted to burst from Logan’s confession. Now that he reciprocated the feelings, she knew she’d do anything for him.

“Come with me, please. I don’t want you to stay here, of all places,” he frowned. Even though they fucked in a strip club, he wasn’t fond of it.

She sighed. “Everyone wants to get me, Logan,” she said sadly. “Once I leave, the hunt will begin - the Brotherhood, the Avengers, the government. I can’t go back to X-mansion. That’s the first place they’ll check. I can’t endanger the kids.”

This is what he was looking for. She was still a good woman. “So staying in a strip club is better?” he questioned. “Or are you trying to say you don’t want to be with me? Is that it?”

Her eyes widen, mouth open. “What? No, no,” she grabbed his big hands, holding them tightly. “I love you, Logan. The only thing I want is to be with you. How can I do that when the world is against me?”

“You are the most powerful mutant on this planet,” he said. “You can do anything you put your mind to.”

“And that makes me dangerous,” she stated. “Fuck, I put down a whole skyscraper with my powers. It was not my intention to do it, but it happened. People were hurt while I tried to save them. Fuck, Logan, the United Nations are now questioning whether mutants can be trusted again. It’s all my fault.”

Logan shook his head, not wanting to accept she wouldn’t leave this place. He had to take her home, where she belonged. The school needed her. Everyone in the X-mansion was worried about her. “Baby,” Logan’s arm sneaked around her waist and pulled her closer to him. “We’ll figure something out. I won’t let any of those fuckers take you away from me. I’ll do everything to keep you safe and protected.”

Her eyes sparkled with tears. “Oh, Logan,” her hand reached for his face, fingers grazing the mutton chops. She chuckled a little. “You are the only man who can pull this off,” she winked at him. “It suits you.”

“So, what do ya say? Come home with me. That’s where you belong.”

“Promise me this, Logan - you’ll be on my side, no matter what happens. Please, promise me this,” she pleaded. “Because, genuinely, I am terrified. I don’t want to hurt anyone, but I will if someone tries to get to those I love.”

He could see it was important to her, to have someone standing by her no matter what. “I promise, princess,” he kissed her knuckles gently. “Fuck, if I could, I would promise you the world.”

How could this grumpy, dangerous man be such a sweetheart to her? It made her knees weak. He was in love and so was she. “Quick question, how will we get back to X-mansion?”

Logan licked his lips. “I have a bike parked at a bar where a woman gave me a tip you work here,” her winked at her.

She made a face. “Yeah, Wendy, she texted me about you,” Y/N winked at him. “I’m mad that you wanted to kill her.”

“Fuck her,” he growled. “Did she write you she was hitting on me?” he raised a brow.

A simple glare was the answer he needed. “So, does that mean you’ll come with me?”

“Yes,” she nodded.

His lips crashed with hers in a loving kiss. Logan’s arms wrapped around her waist, hugging her tightly. “That’s good, baby. Also,” he pressed his lips to her ear. “That little game you played with me when I arrived - hot.”

Y/N smiled. “It wasn’t planned. I needed to find out your true intentions.”

“Through the art of seduction?”

“Something like that.”

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