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silverskyeline · 30 days

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'look at me' 18+

oneshot - logan can't fuck like he used to, but you don't care. you get on top, gladly taking care of him in return. (2k words) pairing - logan howlett (logan 2017) x gn!reader tags: pre-established relationship, doggy style, penetration, dom!logan, reader rides logan, filthy talking logan, he talks you through it, rough, praise kink, cursing, mutual orgasm, choking, 'use your words', unprotected sex, creampie, sweet ending

logan can't keep up like he used to, but he still fucks you like a man possessed when he's able, like a rabid animal - hips bucking, muscles flexing, baring his teeth as he takes you.

his rough, calloused and scarred hands grip your waist, contrasting against your soft skin. that veiny length makes quick work of your needy hole, just like you wanted.

moments before, you'd teased him for the tent in his blue jeans. logan had cocked a smirk, that same signature smirk that always renders you weak at the knees as he began unbuckling his belt, taking his sweet time. you would wait, he knew you'd wait, you were good for him like that. the distinct sound of the clinking metal and the unsheathing of leather caused a shiver to run down your spine, a throbbing in your core. you needed him just as much as he needed you.

.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・.

it wasn't fair, how he could tell as soon as he entered a room just how much you wanted him. he could smell it, smell your arousal clear as day, he'd teased you about it so many times. the scent fills his mind every time, makes his cock twitch in his boxers, the need to have you almost overwhelming.

your soft wanting moans drift to his ears, one of his palms sliding up to the base of your spine as he keeps you firmly bent over on the bed, fucking into you with purpose. rough grunting spills from his lips, your head turning to catch his eye, watching as beads of sweat form on his forehead. chest rising and falling, logan grits his teeth.

"this what you wanted, huh?" he grunts, his sentence punctuated with a particularly harsh thrust that knocks the wind from both of you, "you wanted my cock? hm? just couldn't fuckin' help but tease and tease. . ."

you whine, gripping the sheets in front of you as the room fills with the lewd sound of skin on skin. he always liked it rough, plus - you'd known logan long enough to know how he liked to channel his anger into sex. and he was fucking good at it. you'd take it, again and again, as harsh as he wanted to give. because you knew that as soon as you were done, he'd be scrambling to pepper soft kisses along your neck, praising you for how good you'd been for him.

his thrusts falter, and you reach back to take his wrist in your hand in a comforting gesture. the harsh panting tells you all you need to know, his grip on you fading. but it's alright, you know how to take care of him, too. you tug at his wrist and after a brief moment of hesitation, he pulls out and lays beside you, looking almost defeated.

your hips find their home atop his and you nestle against him, slowly grinding back and forth on his length. his hands immediately search for your thighs, pawing at the flesh as he looks up at you. you drink in his expression, the way he's looking at you through his heavy eyelids, his scarred, sweaty bare chest rising and falling harshly.

"let me take care of you. . ." you whisper, your hands sliding up across the feverish skin on his chest, threading through the hair that grows there.

he licks his lips, attempting to protest "but i-"

"shhhh. . ." you shake your head, inching upwards to brush his leaking tip against your entrance and he hisses at the contact, "i said let me take care of you. . ."

you sink down on his cock, gasping as he fills you once more - at this point, you've memorised every vein on that thing. you love how he fills you so completely, how you almost, almost struggle to take him in all the way.

"fuck. . ." he huffs, his eyes fluttering shut as he grasps your thighs, sinking into the bed. he hates it, hates how fucking tired he gets nowadays. but damn if you don't look like the prettiest little thing bouncing on his cock like that.

and you want to comfort him, to let him know that it's okay. you'd ride him every night if he'd let you, but he always insists that he can do it, that he can still go as hard and as fast as he used to all those years ago. fast or slow, it didn't bother you, as long as you had logan, you'd be happy, content with even a passing glance from him in your direction.

"look so pretty up there. . ." he coos breathlessly, watching you bounce, his hand snaking up to rest on your stomach as he admires you.

you moan, tilting your head back - and he groans in response, dick twitching desperately, aching to fill you as his hips buck against your movements. he loves watching you ride him like this, watching as you take control, set the pace you want.

the rough hand on your stomach drifts upwards, finding its home around your neck, gently still. but even the soft grip has you reeling, gripping his wrist. you know he still wants to feel some control, that it wasn't because he was losing energy that he was on his back, no. . . it was a choice.

and you indulge him, working down over his cock with your tight hole, clamping around him as your hips meet his over and over. he's groaning, grumbling, eyes fluttering shut as he's lost in the way you take him.

"logan, look at me. . ." you whisper pleadingly, nails digging into his chest, fingertips tracing across the scars there.

immediately his eyes open to lock onto yours, and when he sees you? fuck, he needs more. he uses his grip on your throat to pull you down into a deep kiss, breathing heavily through his nose as his tongue delves into your mouth. you love how much more experienced he is than you, how he makes quick work of you every fucking time, has you a mess for him, opening up to him in every way you can.

"yeah. . . that's it. . ." he grumbles against your lips, kissing you with a fierce passion that borders on animalistic between words, "keep workin' that cock, keep bouncin', you're doin' so well."

you clench around him at those very words, unable to even think straight with his tongue shoved into your mouth and his cock stuffed deep inside you. he's taking you in every way you'll give yourself to him. even with him on his back and with half his energy he's still able to have you squirming.

and the praise, the fucking praise. logan knows just how to talk to you to make you melt. he'll fuck you roughly, desperately pumping his dick into you whilst whispering that you're the prettiest thing he's ever seen into your ear. he'll have you split in half with his thick arms hooked around your legs whilst telling you that you're so good for him, calling you sweet pet names that contrast his rough movements.

that voice of his, gravely, deep, rumbling. you can't think straight when he talks to you this way.

"such a sweet little thing," he groans, his hand on your thigh snaking around to give your ass a quick slap before grabbing a handful. light work for him considering the size of his hands - don't even get him started on what he likes to do with those. . .

you call his name, whimpering against his lips as you try to keep up with his kisses all while riding him. your mind is blank, slamming your hips down against him as he bucks up, meeting your thrusts - sending him deeper and deeper.

his hand on your neck traces along your skin to grip the back of your head, feeling as his digits spread across your scalp. "fuuuuuck," he groans, "can feel how tight you are, you're gonna cum, huh?" logan asks, though it's less of a question and more of a statement. he knows your body better than you do.

you nod, whimpering pathetically, inches from his lips.

eyes darting from your mouth, up into your gaze, he grins, "use your words, c'mon. i asked you a question."

"yes logan, yes, fuck- i'm gonna cum!" you cry out, tilting your hips as you chase that high he wants to give you.

with his mouth open, he pants, watching you above him with a keen fascination as your face contorts in pleasure. slowly, a smirk tugs at the corner of his lips. his favourite thing in the world is to watch you come undone around him, the way your eyes roll back, your pulse quickening under his fingertips.

"c'mon, c'mon, c'mon. . ." he growls, rutting into you from below, feeling as you spasm around his hard, girthy length, "if you cum, i'll cum nice and deep inside you, you'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"logan. . ." you whine, a clear yes. your head dips down to press against his shoulder, unable to keep yourself upright with the intensity of it all.

he chuckles and it's like music to your ears, loving those rare little noises of his - treasuring the sounds he makes while enjoying you.

both hands are back on your hips now, guiding you, slamming you down onto him as you gasp with each thrust, "c'mon. . . give me what i want, what we both want - make a mess for me."

his words hit you like a command, a call to arms - you will cum for him, make a mess of him and his sheets. you're calling his name into the skin of his neck as you cry out, feeling the orgasm beginning to tear through you.

and he can feel it, feel how you convulse and clamp down on his dick, causing him to gasp. he's moaning, groaning, words catching at the back of his throat as he tries to continue to talk you through it - but he can't. you're fucking him too good, he's gonna cum too.

ropes and ropes of white hot cum fill you, pushed deeper and deeper by his faltering thrusts as his dick twitches with each spray. you gasp, writhing against him as he holds you firmly in place, pulling you down one last time and holding you there as he empties into you completely.

you're whimpering, whining, body jerking as the intensity increases as you roll your hips, riding out the last of your orgasm until you're both left a panting, sweaty mess.

"holy fuck. . ." he whispers into the air, closing his eyes to centre himself, world spinning.

meanwhile, you can't even talk, can't even think about forming words, mind instead occupied with feeling his hot cum dripping out of you.

logan pets the back of your head, stroking your hair gently in an attempt to help you come back into the moment. he wants to thank you, but that's never been his strong suit. instead, he kisses the crown of your head, peppering kisses down along your forehead as he hooks his thumb and forefinger under your chin to bring your face closer to his.

he looks into your hazy, exhausted eyes, his own gaze full of love and appreciation. this is what he lives for - watching you bathe in the afterglow, being lucky enough to look into your eyes every day, being blessed enough to have you here like this.

you greet him with a sleepy, almost bashful smile.

he smiles too, and god, butterflies blossom deep within your stomach. you love him, you love him tired, you love him angry, you love him grumpy, you love him on his back, on top - whatever, you just love him.

"you're too good for me," he whispers as his lips find your forehead once more.

you know those words are his way of saying thanks, but you shake your head in protest, "stop that, not another word."

logan looks into your eyes, really looks at you, those soft hazel hues meeting your gaze. he simply smiles in silence as his hand drifts to your cheek.

the room falls into a comfortable silence, and you wonder how logan ever let you this close. but you don't care, all you care about is taking care of him.

and you will, for as long as he lets you.

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inkskinned · 1 year

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the thing is that they're so fascinated by sex, they love sex, they can't imagine a world without sex - they need sex to sell things, they need sex to be part of their personality, they need sex to prove their power - but they hate sex. they are disgusted by it.

sex is the only thing that holds their attention, and it is also the thing that can never be discussed directly.

you can't tell a child the normal names for parts of their body, that's sexual in nature, because the body isn't a body, it's a vessel of sex. it doesn't matter that it's been proven in studies (over and over) that kids need to know the names of their genitals; that they internalize sexual shame at a very young age and know it's 'dirty' to have a body; that it overwhelmingly protects children for them to have the correct words to communicate with. what matters is that they're sexual organs. what matters is that it freaks them out to think about kids having body parts - which only exist in the context of sex.

it's gross to talk about a period or how to check for cancer in a testicle or breast. that is nasty, illicit. there will be no pain meds for harsh medical procedures, just because they feature a cervix.

but they will put out an ad of you scantily-clad. you will sell their cars for them, because you have abs, a body. you will drip sex. you will ooze it, like a goo. like you were put on this planet to secrete wealth into their open palms.

they will hit you with that same palm. it will be disgusting that you like leather or leashes, but they will put their movie characters in leather and latex. it will be wrong of you to want sexual freedom, but they will mark their success in the number of people they bed.

they will crow that it's inappropriate for children so there will be no lessons on how to properly apply a condom, even to teens. it's teaching them the wrong things. no lessons on the diversity of sexual organ growth, none on how to obtain consent properly, none on how to recognize when you feel unsafe in your body. if you are a teenager, you have probably already been sexualized at some point in your life. you will have seen someone also-your-age who is splashed across a tv screen or a magazine or married to someone three times your age. you will watch people pull their hair into pigtails so they look like you. so that they can be sexy because of youth. one of the most common pornography searches involves newly-18 young women. girls. the words "barely legal," a hiss of glass sand over your skin.

barely legal. there are bills in place that will not allow people to feel safe in their own bodies. there are people working so hard to punish any person for having sex in a way that isn't god-fearing and submissive. heteronormative. the sex has to be at their feet, on your knees, your eyes wet. when was the first time you saw another person crying in pornography and thought - okay but for real. she looks super unhappy. later, when you are unhappy, you will close your eyes and ignore the feeling and act the role you have been taught to keep playing. they will punish the sex workers, remove the places they can practice their trade safely. they will then make casual jokes about how they sexually harass their nanny.

and they love sex but they hate that you're having sex. you need to have their ornamental, perfunctory, dispassionate sex. so you can't kiss your girlfriend in the bible belt because it is gross to have sex with someone of the same gender. so you can't get your tubes tied in new england because you might change your mind. so you can't admit you were sexually assaulted because real men don't get hurt, you should be grateful. you cannot handle your own body, you cannot handle the risks involved, let other people decide that for you. you aren't ready yet.

but they need you to have sex because you need to have kids. at 15, you are old enough to parent. you are not old enough to hear the word fuck too many times on television.

they are horrified by sex and they never stop talking about it, thinking about it, making everything unnecessarily preverted. the saying - a thief thinks everyone steals. they stand up at their podiums and they look out at the crowd and they sign a bill into place that makes sexwork even more unsafe and they stand up and smile and sign a bill that makes gender-affirming care illegal and they get up and they shrug their shoulders and write don't say gay and they get up, and they make the world about sex, but this horrible, plastic vision of it that they have. this wretched, emotionless thing that holds so much weight it's staggering. they put their whole spine behind it and they push and they say it's normal!

this horrible world they live in. disgusted and also obsessed.

#this shifts gender so much bc it actually affects everyone #yes it's a gendered phenomenon. i have written a LOT about how different genders experience it. that's for a different post.#writeblr #ps my comments about seeing someone cry -- this is not to shame any person #and on this blog we support workers.#at the same time it's a really hard experience to see someone that looks like you. clearly in agony. and have them forced to keep going.#when you're young it doesn't necessarily look like acting. it looks scary. and that's what this is about - the fact that teens #have likely already been exposed to that definition of things. because the internet exists #and without the context of healthy education. THAT is the image burned into their minds about what it looks like.#it's also just one of those personal nuanced biases -#at 19 i thought it was normal to be in pain. to cry. to not-like-it. that it should be perfunctory.#it was what i had seen.#and it didn't help that my religious upbringing was like . 'yeah that's what you get for premarital. but also for the reference #we do think you should never actually enjoy it lol'#so like the point im making is that ppl get exposed to that stuff without the context of something more tender #and assume .... 'oh. so it's fine i am not enjoying myself'. and i know they do because I DID.#he was my first boyfriend. how was i supposed to know any different #i didn't even have the mental wherewithal to realize im a lesbian . like THAT used to suffering.

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romanticmoonchild · 1 year

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I miss having biker boots…

#and I want to find a good leather skirt #and so many corsets #and dresses #and chest belts #I want money that’s it I want money #I’m genuinely envious of people who can use their clothing to express themselves

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andypantsx3 · 5 months

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contents: general bakugou x princess reader; fem + afab virgin reader. nsft; oral (f receiving) & missionary. semi-sequel to this drabble. 3.2k.

Your wedding day arrives far earlier than you are prepared for.

It’s a tense affair, for you at least. The country depends on it, and you feel the scheming eyes of the nobility hot on your skin as you pronounce your vows to Bakugou. They will not take kindly to your having chosen him over their sons and brothers, over their own desire to rise to power. There will be a price they will want you to pay, soon enough.

The chapel is resplendent with sumptuous decor, the court in their finest. But the room is fringed with Bakugou’s men in their military leathers, a reminder that this is not a happy day, but rather a dangerous political stunt. It keeps the noble houses docile while they are in the room with you, but you know they will return to their estates and their plans.

Your fate is in Bakugou’s hands, now, in more ways than one.

The ceremony is dizzying, and impossible to wrap your head around. The preceptor pronounces Bakugou your prince-consort, ostensibly to remain so while you assume the throne after your father’s passing. You will continue to rule him as his sovereign. But your vows to Bakugou also promise him your obedience as his wife.

It is a contradiction, an impossible trap, the very reason why the general is the only man you could stomach the thought of marrying. If a husband is to rule you after all, Bakugou will do so justly.

The thought does not stifle your nerves, however, as you make your way back down the aisle, sit down to the reception, and take your meal. A disquieting, anticipatory feeling settles over you, fizzing under your skin. You barely pick at your dinner, and drink too much of the wine.

You can tell Bakugou notices, scarlet gaze ever-perceptive, though he does not say anything until you are shepherded to the bridal suite to consummate.

Various aides try to follow you in to prepare you, but Bakugou slams the door closed on them, propping it shut with one broad shoulder. He barks at them to scram.

“Lord General—that is, Your Highness,” one of them stutters through the door. “We are required to witness the consummation—to verify that it is complete.”

A bolt of shame goes through you at this, and you catch hold of one of the intricately-carved wooden bed pillars. Bakugou grunts, holding the door closed with one palm while spinning to the nearby dressing table and chair. He grabs the chair, wedging it forcefully up under the door handle.

“You’ll be sure of consummation when I’m done here,” he growls through the door. “Don’t need you little fucking perverts making eyes the whole damn time. Now beat it.”

A weird sound escapes you, something between a gasp and a laugh—at his promise, at his gruffness.

“Your Highness,” comes a plaintive entreaty through the door. Bakugou slams a fist against it, and you hear a squeal and a sound like someone’s fallen over their feet.

An absurd laugh seizes you, and Bakugou eyes you pettishly.

“The fuck’re you laughing about,” he says, but there’s no heat in it.

Your fingers twist on the bedpost, nervously tracing the lines. “You’re taking to your new post well.”

Bakugou’s features twist into something dangerously satisfied, a smirk painting his mouth. Your breath comes short.

“My post,” he echoes, raising an eyebrow. “As your husband.”

Your stomach swoops. The disquiet flames back to life under your skin, settling heavy in your gut like a stone.

“I supposed it is a post like any other,” you say, fixing your gaze on the ground. “There are responsibilities and… marital duties.”

You hear the soft tread of Bakugou’s boot as he steps away from the door, the rustle of his doublet as he draws closer. His many medals and ceremonial sword belt clink softly. It is a fashion you know he does not prefer, always living in his shirtsleeves—the better to fight in, to train in.

A calloused hand takes your chin, tipping your face up to his.

“You nervous, Princess?” he asks. His tone is obnoxious, as usual, but his crimson gaze traces your face.

You barely suppress a shiver under his touch. Your stomach churns with a thousand emotions and you find you don’t know how to feel. Relieved that you’ve made it this far. Annoyed with Bakugou’s composure and general manner. Apprehensive about what is to come. And warm, suddenly, all over. You do not want to examine why.

“Nonsense,” you sniff.

A feral smile curls the corner of Bakugou’s mouth like he sees right through you. “You’ve never been with a man.”

Your face burns but you force yourself to return Bakugou’s assessing stare. “I’ve never been to Musutafu, either, but I know it well enough. I should think I am… prepared.”

Something hot alights in Bakugou’s gaze, burning like a coal. It’s not unlike how he looked at you that night in the dark outside his chambers, when you’d first come to him with this wild proposal.

“And what do you think you know,” he says, flatter than a question.

Your nose grows hot. “Enough.”

A thumb slides along your jaw, settling against the pulse in your neck. “Answer the question, angel.”

Your face just might be on fire. You steel yourself, reciting dispassionately. “You will undress me and then… enter me. I shall lie still—they say you can breathe through the pain and it will go away after some time. You will… work yourself to completion. And then we shall be done.”

A snort comes from Bakugou. “Is that how you royal tightasses do it?”

You feel your eyes narrow. “That is how everyone does it.”

Your ladies in waiting had been very emphatic. All of them had spoken of the same mechanics. The initial discomfort, the pain, the way a husband moved upon his wife until he was satisfied.

“You don’t know shit, Princess,” Bakugou says.

You reach up to pull his hand from your face, but he tenses, arm growing solid and immovable.

“Explains why all you nobles are such fucking tight-buttoned pricks if that’s how you’re doing it.”

Your reply is startled out of you when his hand finds your waist. You take a step back, and then another, startling again when your back finds the wall. Bakugou follows you, eyes hot.

“You are insufferable,” you inform him hotly. “I am sure of the matter.”

“You’re always sure of a lot of things, Princess,” he says. His hand is back at your waist, and suddenly all your skin feels too hot and tight, stifling like a velvet dress in summer.

“I am sure you are the most obnoxious man on earth,” you say. “Now be quiet and commence with it. Let’s have done with it.”

Bakugou’s face is suddenly closer than you’d remembered it being.

“I’ll have done with you alright,” he says. “But I’m not gonna do it like you little uppity prudes.”

You find you can’t think of what he means, all of your thoughts clouded with his proximity, the feeling of his hand moving to your skirts.

“I—but there is only the one way,” you manage. None of your ladies had mentioned anything else.

Bakugou’s mouth cuts into a smirk again, and you hate him for how pretty it is.

“We’ll fuckin’ see about that,” he says.

And then his mouth is pressed to yours.

It’s nothing like the stilted peck you’d been obliged to give him at the ceremony—one that still left your face burning, for some unknowable reason. This feels entirely different in its intensity. Bakugou’s mouth is hot and soft and tempting and eager, and your body thrills with it.

Every inch of your skin feels like it zings with lightning when he licks into your mouth, and he presses you harder into the wall. You feel his groan all the way down to your toes.

“B–akugou,” you pant when his mouth leaves yours, only to stifle a yip when he moves down to your throat. He sucks a mark there, laving over it with his tongue, and you feel like you're melting in his hands. “That’s—not my—ah!—mouth,” you manage.

The tiniest scrape of teeth has you yelping again, and you find yourself clutching his bicep for purchase.

“No shit,” he says, leaving another mark lower, mapping his way towards your chest. Calloused fingers come up to cup one of your breasts, thumb swiping over your nipple through your stays. You catch hold of his hair, yanking a fistful of that flaxen blonde, clenching your thighs together.

“What are you doing?” you hiss.

Bakugou looks up at you, expression annoyed. “Consummating.”

“But you’re not undressing me,” you say. “And shouldn’t we—on the bed?

Bakugou raises a blonde eyebrow. “They tell you it needs to be on a bed, too?”

You blink, momentarily disarmed. It was quite literally called sharing the marriage bed—where else were you supposed to do it?

“Are you sure we’re talking about the same thing?” you eventually ask him.

Both of Bakugou’s eyebrows shoot for the moon, and he looks very suddenly like he wants to laugh. A grin yanks at his mouth, sharp and beautiful.

“I knew you’d be a fucking handful,” he says, his tone somehow both annoyed and delighted. “Don’t even know what the fuck you’re talking about and you’re still trying to give me orders.”

You yank at the fistful of his hair you’re still clutching and he hisses, hand shooting out to grab yours. He works your grip off of him, pinning your wrist to the wall. The air in the room suddenly feels a hundred times thicker, like trying to breathe through honey.

“Listen closely, Princess,” he tells you, leaning in. “We're going to consummate, alright. But I’m not just gonna squeeze my eyes shut and stick it in. I’m going to do what I want first, and you’re going to be good and let me.”

Your face ignites in flame. You want to disagree reflexively. “If it’s going to be painful I’d rather just have it over with, if you don’t mind,” you say.

Bakugou stares back, scarlet gaze roving over you. “It’s not gonna be if you shut up and let me do what I want.”

You blink. You hadn’t heard that there was a way around the pain—why hadn’t anyone told you?

“I—really?” you ask.

Bakugou nods. “Really.”

“Oh,” you say. “Well then… you may proceed, I suppose.”

“You suppose,” he echoes, staring you down. The look on his face makes you want to lean forward and bite it off.

“Well get on with it,” you say, arching your eyebrows.

Bakugou looks for a moment like he wants to shake you. But he ducks his head instead, lowering his mouth to yours again.

“Gonna fuck that bossiness right out of you,” he mutters, low like he’s promising himself and not you. But then he kisses you again, muffling your gasp in his mouth.

You’ve never kissed another man, and do not have a frame of reference for what he’s doing. But Bakugou is a good kisser, you think. Every flick of his tongue feels like someone has uncorked champagne and poured it beneath your skin, and every brush of his mouth against yours sends a liquid heat racing through your veins.

You moan into his mouth when calloused fingers delve beneath the collar of your gown, dipping into your stays and pinching a nipple. He rolls it carefully, and you arch against him without any say-so from your brain.

“Been thinking about this, Princess,” he says. “Ever since I saw you in that little nightdress. Gonna show you what it really means to be with a man.”

You’re excused from answering by his mouth back on yours. Not that you think you could, with the way his fingers feel in the cups of your stays, or the press of a strong thigh between your own.

“Bakugou,” you gasp when he peels off of you, only to sink to his knees before you.

“It’s Katsuki,” he says, busying himself with the hem of your skirts.

“B–Katsuki,” you say. “What are you doing?”

Long fingers roll up the hemline of your dress, then yank at your underthings, exposing you to him. You gasp again, moving to cover yourself, but Bakugou pins you to the wall with an arm across your stomach, catching your thigh and pulling it over his shoulder.

“Husbandly duties,” he replies, another smirk on his mouth.

And then your head thunks against the wall as that mouth moves, pressing to you.

“Katsuki!” you shout, biting off into an embarrassing moan when he laves over you. No one had told you about this part—about how a man’s mouth there would make you feel like fireworks had just been lit off in your veins. About how a man’s mouth could even go there at all.

Bakugou doesn’t reply, kissing you there as he had your lips. A delicate suck from him over the cleft of you has you arching in his hands again, and you can quite literally feel him smirking against you.

He works you thoroughly, licking and sucking for what feels like torturous hours, but must only be minutes, until you’re a writhing, panting mess, only held upright by the arm he has banded across your lower stomach. There’s a pressure rising within you, pooling in all your limbs, making you shake and shiver with it, and what feels like no way to release it.

“Katsuki—I feel strange,” you say, bucking against his mouth. “Oh—oh!”

“Just hold on, sweetheart, and let yourself feel it,” Katsuki tells you, before licking back over you. A finger presses up inside of you, foreign but strangely good in conjunction with his mouth. Then another one presses in and they curl as if seeking something, making you twist in his grip.

And then something makes you jerk—the press of Katsuki’s fingers inside you in just the right spot, while he sucks on you, feeling like he’s touching the same place inside of you from both sides.

Something inside you snaps, uncoiling, pleasure flooding down you like a mudslide. You cry out Bakugou’s name, tears in your vision, riding out your pleasure against his mouth. Bakugou licks you through it, groaning low in his throat with appreciation.

“That’s it, Princess,” he says, tone rough. “Now you’re ready for consummation.”

You hear his words as if through a haze, and it’s only once you’re moving—being picked up and carried over to the bed—that you register what he’s saying.

He frees himself from his breeches, and stretches out over you, kissing your mouth. You’re embarrassed to taste yourself on him, but the press of him to you overrides that concern. In one smooth stroke he presses in, and you are shocked to find that he slides home easily, your core slick and ready.

It feels strange, but not at all unpleasant—absolutely nothing like what they’d told you.

“You alright, Princess?” Bakugou asks.

“I—yes,” you say, voice fluttering off when he flexes his hips, moving inside of you. The slide of him inside of you is unexpectedly good, especially when he lowers a hand to your core, pressing a thumb to that bundle of nerves at the hood of you.

“Feel good?” he asks, his eyes hot on your face. You cling to him, hips lifting into him unthinkingly as his thumb pets over you again, as he presses in and out of you a few more times.

You nod, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of saying it aloud.

He grins anyway, feral and fever-bright. His pace picks up into something faster, and you’re embarrassed to hear the slap of him against you, the eager way your body welcomes him in.

The band of pressure builds up inside you again, slowly, with every sure stroke of Bakugou inside you. He’s hot and hard and heavy over you, pressing you into the mattress, and the tops of his cheeks are flush with effort—the way he looks sometimes when he’s just come in from the training pitch.

He’s beautiful—handsome and strong and hot-headed and determined. And it dawns on you that he’s yours now—not just your subject but your husband, your prince consort, and now your lover.

It makes all your skin turn molten hot again, especially when you look down and see your knees have rucked his shirt up. You can see the flex of his abs as he thrusts between your thighs, all that golden skin and dense muscle.

The slide of him inside you and the sight of him over you is suddenly too much, and you feel yourself tip right over the edge again. Bakugou catches your hand as you lift it to muffle your cry, kissing over your knuckles.

“That’s it, Princess, that’s it,” he says again, ducking his head to kiss you.

You moan into his mouth as he fucks you through it, and he groans with the clench of you.

“Feel so fuckin’ good,” he says against your lips, pace picking up faster. “Knew you would, sweetheart, yeah.”

Embarrassingly you feel almost like you could come apart again with the praise. Bakugou groans once more, and you can hear his grip tighten in the blanket next to your head. His hips buck and flex, wildly uncontrolled now, until he gives one final hard thrust.

His weight pins you down when he relaxes over you, his breath tickling over your shoulder. You find you like the weight of him on you, covering you, like a shield against the rest of the world.

Apt, for a general.

“Better than how you wanted to do it, wasn’t it, Princess?” he asks, smug.

You scoff, but you catch the flash of a white grin in the corner of your vision. There is really no question that he’d had the better of it, this time.

“Knew you’d see it my way,” he says.

Over him, you can hear the flutter of feet outside the door, some muffled discussion. Heat rises to your face when you realize the castle aids most definitely heard you cry out under Bakugou’s ministrations. There will be no doubt of your consummation now, regardless of whether you were observed.

“Nosy fuckin’ perverts,” Bakugou says, rolling off of you. You catch another flicker of his chest with the way his shirt gapes, and he looks doubly smug when he notices.

“Not done yet, angel?” he says.

“I am, thank you.” You flush, embarrassed at having been caught. But Bakugou stretches an arm out to yank you over him, pressing you down over his hips.

Your stomach flutters.

“Give me a couple more minutes, Princess,” Bakugou says, scarlet eyes flashing with heat once more. His hand raises to trail through your hair, catching in the wedding hairstyle they’d pinned you into.

“Five more minutes,” your new husband promises you, with a grin like the devil. “And then we'll give them something to really listen to.”

#bakugou x reader #bakugou x you #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bnha x reader #bakugo x you #character: bakugou katsuki #andie's writing

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eyesxxyou · 25 days

Text

First Smoke 🚬

💨・・・l. howlett x fem!reader

rating. m

word count. 2.5k

synopsis. you were everything logan shouldn't want. young, religious, and innocent. you were sweet to everyone. and you've never been touched. logan wants to be your first everything.

warnings. age gap relationship (reader is 21, Logan is nearing 50) , religious reader, innocent reader, smoking, shotgunning smoke, dubious consent, dry humping, spanking, a bit of toxic relationship dynamics, logan is not a good person, not edited

↳ pt.1 / pt.2 / pt.3

You’ve always been attracted to Logan Howlett. From his strong build—broad shoulders, the fine lines of veins on his arms—to his carefree disposition. You liked the way he carried himself, confident, lumbering, like his dick was too big between his legs. You especially liked his belts. The thick, worn, leather. The large buckle was always either silver or bronze, engraved with a design.

It was a worldly lust, one you shunned for many years growing up. One you tried to pray away. A test from God to see if you could remain devout. And for a while, you were doing so good. You kept your left for him down, you prayed for the strength to face him everyday.

And then he offered you a drink.

You were back the next day, and the next, and the next. All with the promise of great pleasure and even greater corruption. You prayed every night for forgiveness and went back to commit more sins, more atrocities against your body. You never let Logan take your virginity, but he did penetrate you with his fingers nearly every day. You’ve seen his erect cock, long and thick, 8 to 9 inches of solidity, while he jerked off while fingering you. He came on your belly, just nearly missing your cunt.

You sat like a pretty, little doll in Logan's garage in white stockings with flower designs on them, a white dress dotted in lilacs that went down to your shins, a white cardigan you knitted yourself, and your iconic mary janes heels. You fiddled with the pearl necklace sitting delicately on your collarbones while your heels clicked and your cardigan fell slightly off your shoulder.

Logan was shirtless, the muscles of his sweat covered back flexing as he rummaged through his toolbox. He was beautiful, sun-kissed, pants hanging low on his lips with that thick belt of his. His hair stuck slightly to the nape of his neck.

After a moment, he grunted, closed his toolbox, and reached into his pocket for a lighter while going over to grab a cigar. He placed the thick thing between his lips and flicked his lighter.

“Isn't that dangerous, Mr. Howlett? Lighting a cigar around grease and oil and gasoline?” You ask softly, watching him take a long drag before blowing the smoke. He looked at you with a quirked brow. “Don’t worry about it, doll.” He sat down on an old chair across the garage out of the sun, fingers motioning you over to sit in his lap as you always did. He loved you in his lap, your frame so pretty on top of him, the way you squirm.

Your eyes flickered to the open garage door, rolled up all the way to let the waning sunlight in. “I can't, Mr. Howlett. Someone will see us.” And that someone will recognize you as the pastor’s daughter and inform your father that you were caught in his lap. Canoodling with not only a man, but a man twice your age. He’d never let you out of the house again.

Logan glanced out of the door. “Nah, we’re hidden behind the bike.” A lie that fell too smoothly from his lips. You both were in the corner, in the shade. Eyes would glaze right over your bodies. No one would notice you two unless they were truly taking the time to look. People rarely ever did.

You seemed to calm a little at his words and carefully made your way over to his little corner where he lounged. Logan offered out a hand to keep you steady as you hiked up the skirt of your dress a little and straddled his thighs. You placed your hands on his chest to balance yourself. You liked the hair on his chest that led down his rock solid abdomen. There was a single vein leading down below the belt.

You looked back over your shoulder at the open garage door, eyeing the street as a car passed by. Logan noticed the worry pressing wrinkles to your face, the doubt in your eyes and grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him instead of the street. Smoke came out of his nose slightly, “stop worrying.”

He took another long drag of his cigar and watched with amusement as you eyed the thing curiously. “You don't want none of this, baby. It’s too strong for you.” Logan’s hand stroked your thigh through your stockings. Your lips unintentionally formed into a small pout. You were used to being told no in your life, but Logan never did. You liked the freedom that came with being with him, even if that was at the expense of your soul. You were making dealings with the devil.

Logan sucked up smoke into his mouth and grabbed you firmly at the back of the head, pulling you in to press your lips to his. He blew the smoke between your lips and let it fill your mouth and billow down your throat. Breaking away, began to cough into the back of your hand.

“I told you; too strong for a little babydoll like you.”

The taste lingered on your lips and in your mouth, smokey, bitter. How could he possibly enjoy this stuff? He smoked and drank like it was nothing but you had remained abstemious your entire life, you weren't accustomed to the taste yet. More importantly, your lips had tasted his lips. He had so suddenly stolen your first kiss from you.

You whispered to him, “that was my first kiss.”

“Oh baby,” Logan leaned forward, chuckling softly. “That wasn't a kiss. I can show you what a real kiss looks like.” He took his cigar from his mouth, enjoying the way you shuddered as his prickly facial hair brushed against your cheek. He kissed you because he could, because he wanted to, because he knew if he didn't steal your first kiss from your delicate hands, someone else would. He had to take everything from you, be your first everything, possess you wholly.

You were awkward, squirming, unsure of what to do with your mouth, your tongue. Logan held you by the hips, pulling you ever closer, tasting of smoke, whiskey, and bad decisions rolled into one. His tongue pressed to yours, tracing and exploring every crevice of your mouth. He was not gentle with you. You were no child, you could handle it.

Your lips tasted like a medley of fruit from your lip balm and toothpaste. You were fresh, clean, so terribly pure that every lick of his tongue against yours, every orgasm he drew out of you dirtied you in the mud of sin. Your hands were clawing at his shoulders, your hips pressed down into his lap with the help of his hands.

Another car went past and you leaped away from his kiss, panting. “Someone’s going to see us, Mr. Howlett. My father will kill both of us.” Logan didn't seem to care all that much. He pulled the skirt of your dress up and pulled you down until your body pressed flush with his. Your little cunt pressed right to the large buckle of his belt.

He reached between your legs and found a weak spot in your stockings, jabbing his finger through and ripping the lacy fabric through the middle to access your pretty center. You were wearing another pair of cotton panties, white, with a little bow on the front. “Mr. Howlett.” You whined at your ruined article of clothing. You’d never be able to explain it to your parents. “Listen to me. We can't, not here.”

“We'll be fine, doll.” He grunted, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck. Logan was so much stronger than you, his hand forcing you to press yourself down onto him, your cotton-covered clit catching along the design of his buckle. You gasped, shuddering, your eyes growing heavy. Your hands on his shoulders, rubbing his chest. You weren't like you were before. Timid. Afraid. You were scandalous in a way you never thought you would be. You took the time to grind your hips against his buckle, finding just the right ridge to play with your clit.

How he's tainted you.

Logan leaned back, smoking with a serene smirk while he watched you take your pleasure against his belt. It was quite the show. Your fingers against his solid chest, your eyes fluttered to a close, the way you humped him almost like a desperate bitch in heat. Dulcet moans passed your lips like a song, silky and sweet with a touch of depravity.

“Oooh– Mr. Howlett~” You liked all the bumps and ridges of the design on his buckle, the way it all tickled your pussy at just the right spots and angles. Logan stroked your hip with his free hand, smoking with his other. You were all whiny and squeaky, already falling apart in his lap. He’s made you something monstrous, disgusting. And you liked it.

You were soaking through your panties. Any other time you would have been humiliated, the sin of your lust. But oh, you were hitting all the right spots and you couldn't hear anything beyond the ringing in your ears. Someone could have walked right into Logan's garage and witnessed you pleasuring yourself on his belt of all things and you would have hardly noticed.

Logan, thoroughly amused, took a long drag from his cigar and blew it into your face. You felt a little hazy, whining a little. “Stop.” He did it again, smiling and chuckling lowly as you squirmed. “I can get the whiskey out again, doll. You seem to enjoy yourself better when you’re drunk.”

You shook your head. “Nuh uh, let me– let me keep going. I'm…enjoying myself– just fine.” You squeaked as you found a little nub to rub your bundle of nerves across. You could feel everything as if you didn't have any panties on at all. Your underwear stuck to your cunt like a second sink, so thin that it might as well not be there in the first place.

You were a sensitive little thing. Getting you to cum was an easy task. A few clicks at your clit, a few dirty words in your ear, and you were melting into a puddle in his lap. This time, you were doing it all by yourself, showing off all you had learned. But there was nothing quite satisfying about that. Logan liked his unwavering control over you.

So as you teetered towards the edge of relief, Logan grunted, “Don't you cum until I tell you to.” There was a warning hidden behind his voice. There would be consequences if you disobeyed. You were used to obeying, you just found a new master to serve.

You cried softly. “No, no, no, ‘m so close,” you slurred, rutting your hips like a wild animal. Logan tapped his cigar off the side of the chair before placing it back between his lips. “Don't you dare, doll.” It threatened unknown possibilities, an infinity of punishments. “I’ll march you out into the street and finger you in the front yard. Everyone will see you for the slut you are.”

He’d never actually do it. Logan would like to keep the sight of you cumming to himself alone, but the threat was enough to keep you at bay, to keep his firm control over you.

You shook your head wildly, still rubbing and humping, tears pricking your eyes. “No, please–” You wept at the thought of being ousted from your community, disowned by your family, made to be some shameless whore on the street. A man like Logan would never marry you. He'd never make you his wife. He liked playing with the hearts of little girls like you, who didn't know any better.

So you try your best not to cum with tears streaking your face, tears that only make Logan harder. You look so pretty when you cry. Partially from pleasure, partially from fear, maybe some pain. Your legs trembled with the weight of an orgasm denied.

You went like this for 2 orgasms. Your pussy rubbed red and puffy through your panties, a wet patch on the crotch of his pants from your dripping cunt. “I can't! I can't, Mr. Howlett.” You were sobbing hysterically. Your entire body shook violently with your next orgasm that rushed you like a freight train and came with a hot flash throughout your entire body.

Logan watched you cum on his belt, pussy pulsing and rubbing. You almost went cross-eyed, how cute. Your cheeks were dripping wet with salty tears he could just lick right off your face if he so desired. He liked seeing you cry, liked the way you sobbed like you had no sense.

You were panting, aching, nearly fell right off his lap if he didn't catch you. “‘m sorry, ‘m sorry. Please don't take me to the yard. My– my family will never look at me the same.” You murmured out your words, still crying like a baby.

“I ain't gonna take you to the yard, doll.” Logan, thoroughly amused by your panic, guided you to lay over his lap with your ass facing the open garage door. “I am gonna give you a spanking though.” He smiled at the whimper you let out; his hand flipping up your skirt to reveal your ripped stockings and soaked through panties.

You were reminded of when you were a little girl, in your father's lap when he would spank you for doing something bad. You wiggled and writhed with anticipation, fingers gripping his thigh. Logan soothed his hand over the soft skin of your ass as he gripped great handfuls of flesh into his palms.

The first one came with a great ring of skin against skin. You yelped, lunging forward. More tears, more childish crying. Logan rubbed the spot where he spanked you to soothe the pain. “Quiet down. You don't want anyone to get curious, do you?” You shook your head with feverish intent. You couldn't have anyone looking this way, watching you get spanked, reporting back to your father.

Logan raised his hand and brought it down against your other asscheek. You bit your lip to stifle the sob that threatened to leave you. You did the same when he spanked you again and again, biting so hard you could taste the metallic beginnings of blood.

In total, Logan spanked you 15 times before he deemed it enough and let you up. You were shaking like a startled dog, your once neat, pinned up hair now ruined, your dress wrinkled, your stockings ripped. You were a beautiful mess. His beautiful mess. He was ruining you.

“Come here, babydoll.” Logan coaxed you towards him as he put out his cigar in the ashtray nearby. He took you by the hips and pulled you back into his lap. You were so small and meek, you didn't even fight.

Logan brushed your hair out of your face, carefully fixing it back up with various bands and clips until it looked reasonably neat again. He was gentle for once, taking your chin in between his fingers, and he kissed you. He was tender with that too, licking the blood from your bottom lip with a smile.

Logan always had a habit of destroying his favorite toys.

#x men wolverine #wolverine #wolverine x fem!reader #wolverine x reader #logan howlett fanfiction #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett smut #logan howlett x fem!reader #james howlett

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munsonmuses · 3 months

Text

Emperor Geta x Fem! Reader

Warnings: smut, gladiatorial combat, animalistic tendencies, uhhhg there’s a breeding kink. This was not proofread.

Word Count: 2.3k

Authors Comments: Iiiii was a major Roman Empire nerd as a kid, so if there’s stuff you’re like “that seemed specific” about? I promise you the research was done and I had to consult my notebooks from when I was a teeny tot (like a young teen). And yes, thumbs up signified death because it represented an upturned sword for combat, and the thumbs down signified sparing the loser, by turning your sword down to sheath

The light fabric of the linen chiton you wore felt like chains, the beautiful gold brooches holding it in place and the belt that rested low on your waist like the shackles. Leading you to a life you’d never wanted. To a future you knew you’d loathe so deeply. This wasn’t the life you’d dreamt of as a young woman. Bringing peace to an empire, marrying a man who was made perfectly for you by the gods.

All of these opportunities had been ripped from between your fingers. Your life slipped away the moment you’d heard that Emperor Geta had set his sights on you. He was callous, pompous, the human equivalent of a promenading lion. He thought nothing but the best of himself, and believed he deserved things equally as good. One of those things being you.

Your finger delicately worked on adjusting the raw leather straps of your sandals. The stephane felt like it was weighting your whole body down, veil swishing against your nape, sending chills down your spine. That the earth may swallow you whole in one fell motion was a wishful thought as you carefully examined the large hall.

It was egregious, how much gold one man could have. How many statues of himself an individual could bare to own. Slowly standing from the large chaise you’d been guided too and approaching one. tracing the curve of his nose, the apples of his cheeks. The manic look they’d managed to capture in his marble portrait, captured perfectly within the massive pupils. Scoffing lightly before hearing a laugh from behind you that caused your skin to pebble viciously. Turning around to face him.

The statue somehow didn’t manage to perfectly capture his mania. Pupils so wide they looked almost entirely black. A wolfish grin. His entire body reeked of need and want.

“You, are even more beautiful than Caracalla described…just look at you-“ his hands clamped down on your upper arms. Holding you in place as he hummed. “You’ll do nicely…” he murmured as you quirked a brow lightly.

You prayed that when you asked, he’d give you a different answer than what you’d been prepared for. Not wanting to surrender yourself to matrimony with a man so viciously bloodthirsty and self righteous. “What will I do nicely for, imperator?” You whispered as he let his eyes glaze over your body. Taking in every inch of you before nodding.

“Don’t be silly, you know what I brought you here for. I have chosen you to be my empress. Not Caracalla’s. Strictly my own.” He insisted as he moved a hand up to grip your jaw while humming. “You’ll take to the role with pride. A loving and affectionate empress…and you’ll give me my sons to lead the future of my empire once my time has come. Am I understood?” He questioned as you scoffed lightly to yourself. Fixing your rings and pulling away. Pacing the large floor of the hall as he kept his eyes on you. Ready to pounce if necessary.

“I am marrying you strictly for familial agreement. Through my loyalty for my empire and my dedication to my familial name…it has nothing to do with you.” You murmured as he sucked on his teeth lightly. You weren’t afraid of him, you saw yourself as an independent being, even a possible equal. An equal amount of hatred that matched his levels of obsession. Overall, he was clearly agitated by your lack of throwing yourself at him, the need for you to desperately present yourself to him. Though he wouldn’t push it. To get you out from under Caracalla’s thumb was difficult enough, so he’d take what he could get.

“Your chambers are prepared, you’ll be dressed for our wedding and you’ll smile. You’ll be grateful.” He ordered as you nodded, allowing the two women by the doorway to follow you out as you sighed in frustration to yourself.

These women were terrified to touch you, though they attempted to feebly conceal their terror as you hummed. Hair carefully arranged with an orange veil placed atop. Slipping into the white woven fabric of your wedding tunic, and slipped on orange sandals. Careful with them as you worked on fastening the knot of Hercules around your waist. Nodding slowly as you assessed yourself in the mirror.

It felt like lead lined your stomach as you approached the large garden, eyes meeting with Geta’s own. Your family and his court clearly anxiously awaiting your arrival. Your dowry had been exchanged, and Geta grinned delightedly at the sight of you approaching. Wringing his fingers, rings loudly knocking together as you frowned in mild fury. He was childish and cocky and self absorbed, albeit a bit handsome.

You stopped in front of him as the two of you read over the marriage contract. His eyes constantly flicking up to you as you lifted your metal pen from the inkwell. Scrawling your name with confidence as he followed suit. His hand suddenly clutching your left wrist as your head whipped to look at him. Geta removing the thick red stoned ring upon one of his fingers and slipping it onto one of your own as he hummed contentedly. Clearly awaiting reciprocation for his affections.

You carefully took his face, pressing a pursed lip kiss to his own plush pink lips as he cradled the back of your head and your waist. Satisfied with his win. Cementing your future with your new husband, as empress.

Your wedding was a few months ago, and in that time you’d been growing to know, like, and even love Geta. Although shrouded in cruel mystery, he did have a tender heart when it came to you. Gifting you lavishly, bathing you in riches and praise. You’d never gone to bed on an empty stomach, and you managed to share romantic pleasantries with him regularly.

You sat beside him as you watched a battle in the coliseum. Head perched on your fist in boredom as he smiled wide at you. The folds of your brooches and adornments complimenting the rich purples of your own robes. Your stephane crooked as his hand delicately reached up to adjust it. “Isn’t this delightful my heart?” He whispered eagerly as you scoffed in light amusement. Grinning lightly at him as you kissed his rings lightly.

“It’s alright. Gladiator fights have never…settled my nerves. If anything the bloodsport terrifies me…” you murmured as his own lips pulled into a tight frown. Though unlike usual, he didn’t have a smart or cold comment to make.

You carefully watched the two men fight, though you could barely call them that. Barely older than sixteen a piece as you chewed on your lip. The larger of the two slamming his sword into the smaller boys shield. Reminding you of the kind boys you’d known in your youth who had the whole world in front of them, stolen in war. Your heart heavy at the sight.

Geta’s eyes were trained on you. Noticing the paleness in your face, watering eyes as you left your chair to look over the edge of the balcony at these boys. Heart pounding in your ears as he sighed. He was furious, he was angry…love had “weakened” him, was what Caracalla had lamented before. But in his eyes, it simply made him better for you. Being weak for one’s own wife was impossible.

Your head whipped to look at him as the smaller boy was bloodied and bruised. Whipped to the ground by his foe as Geta stood slowly for the crowd to see.

He lifted his hand slowly, glancing over at you as his thumb rested on its side. He would typically give a thumbs up, signaling the death of the weaker boy…but instead his thumb dropped. The crowd gasping at the young man being spared at the Emperors command.

Geta’s eyes flicked to you one last time. Seeing nothing but adoration in them as he dismissed his co-contributors frustrated muttering, walking off with you to your shared chambers as he hummed in your ear.

“You’re welcome…” he whispered as you rolled your eyes lightly at him. Kissing his cheek lightly as you closed the large doors behind yourself.

With your back to him, you slowly worked on unhooking the brooches of your chiton, letting the fabric pool at your feet as you worked on removing your sandals slowly. Hearing his movements stop, eyes on you as you grinned lightly over your shoulder.

“You have shown such monumental growth…and kindness…and change, my emperor…” you whispered as you stalked towards him. His breath shaky and heavy as he carefully nodded. “I am so amazed by you…” you murmured as he watched your hands making work of the fasteners on his own tunic. It slipping down his shoulders as you smiled.

“I want…to reward you,” you murmured into his ear. Geta was a man who worked on praise, adoration and reward. He needed something for every “accomplishment” he made. This time you’d give him something more.

He let himself be lied back on your massive bed, his cock slowly hardening. Pressed to his stomach. Cheeks and chest flushed as you hummed lightly to yourself. He deserved this, even if it was simple human decency…it was a major turning point for him.

You kissed along his jaw, down his neck, his chest. Lightly nipping at his flushed skin as you worked lower and lower. Pressing kisses down his stomach and licking along the light indentations of his abs before finally paying attention to his desperate cock.

Already twitching lightly, Geta was not a hard man to work up. Lightly pressing warm, open mouthed kisses along his shaft. Tenderly massaging his balls as he whimpered lightly at your ministrations. Following your movements with frantic eyes.

He shivered lightly as he felt your lips lightly wrap around his tip. Lazily sucking and stroking the rest of his shaft lightly. Having used your kisses from earlier as a bit of lubrication. Stroking in time with your slowly bobbing head. Every few moments getting lower and lower. Relishing on the velvety feeling of his thick cock against your tongue. Finally taking your hand away and placing it on his hip. The other taking his right hand and leading it to the back of your head as he trembled lightly. “My heart…please-“ his whisper wasn’t much more than a breath.

The lewd noises of you taking him deep down your throat, slowly sucking while hollowing out your cheeks. Obediently tending to his needs as you groaned desperately against him. Your free hand trailing downward to massage your own clit as he bucked his hips lightly.

“You tease me…” he growled out. “With your desperate hands, your heavenly mouth, your body on full display…you tear me into nothing but tatters of a man…and you relish in my desperation,” he hissed as you pulled your head off.

Stroking his cock lightly as you maintained eye contact with him. Your own blown out with need and want as you continued to tend to your own clit. Sensitive bud twitching under your small, circular motions. Geta’s eyes trained on simply you. Filled with nothing but love and obsession as he growled.

Taking your wrists firmly, he pulled your hands away from both of your own sensitive bodies. Working on lying you back as he pressed his lips to your ear. “You’re a temptress…and you’ll understand just how deeply I want for you…and you’ll give me my sons,” he hissed as he worked one of your legs up around his waist. Keeping one hand on your wrists, pinned above your head as he lined himself up with your wanting cunt. Slowly easing himself into you.

You could feel every vein, every curve. A desperate moan being ripped from you as you arched your back lightly. Geta’s soft laugh and heaving breaths the only other noise you could focus on. His mouth greedily kissing along your soft skin. Nipping at your shoulders and neck. Trailing down to your breasts. Lightly taking your left nipple between his teeth. Sucking and nipping at the sensitive bud while lazily rolling his hips. Breeding you on his terms.

“Fucking…mnghhh…you’re so good~” he mumbled between mouthfuls of greedy kisses. His thrusts short and swift. Though deep enough to give that knot in your stomach a bit of reprieve. Humming contentedly to himself as he watched your lust clouded eyes. “I can’t promise that you’ll be able to do much once im finished…” he murmured as he began to focus on his thrusts.

Deep and swift, pressing deep into your twitching cunt, your wrists finally free of his grasp as your arms wrapped around his shoulders. Holding him close as he fucked deeper into you. “It’s a blessing, to get to carry the future of our empire. Thank me for blessing you…” he growled out as he held your hips firmly. Your moans in time with his thrusts as you struggled to form a single coherent thought.

“Fuck!…thank you, for allow-…allowing me to carry your heirs, and the future of Rome!” Your voice cracked between moans as he laughed lightly. Working on bringing you to your orgasm as he hummed.

Your body felt like it was ablaze, each thrust causing that knot to unravel further and further. Whimpering in desperation and squawking desperately before letting your head fall back. His name spilling past your lips before feeling that knot come undone. Mouth falling open in incoherent babbles as Geta fucked you through your orgasm. Making sure you were thoroughly satisfied and gritting his teeth.

Unable to hold himself back much longer, his thrusts became short and swift before he hilted himself deep within you and came. His own mutters just broken up syllables of your name, trembling arms, and weak kisses along your skin. His body collapsing upon your own as he pressed hot and gentle kisses to your skin.

“I love you…” he murmured, allowing his eyes to close as you lightly combed through his hair. Your own growing heavy as you sighed.

“I love you too…”

#emperor geta x reader #emperor geta #joseph quinn #Joseph Quinn Cinematic Universe #JQCU #addiewrites #gladiator 2 #gladiator Joseph Quinn #emperor geta just one chance please

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yanderenightmare · 10 months

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TW: NSFW, yandere, f!reader, bondage, abuse, punishment, intense spanking/whipping-ish

gn reader

“Please- plea- m’so- sorry-” You sob, voice cracking on its own blubbering. Chest full of panic – heaving for a fix but achieving little less than spurring even more hysteria.

“Haah…” He sighs. Casually fixing your bonds tighter around your wrists, hoisting them a little higher above your head until you were properly stretched up on your tippy-toes.

Shivering in just your undies in anxious wait of his anger.

Stroking your back while holding your belly in a steady hand, he thinks he’s never felt fear quite like it, but unfortunately, “Y’broke the rules, Sunshine… and now yer’ gettin’ punished.”

He unbuckles his belt. Your eardrums burn at the crisp sound, so much spiked blood rushing about, making you go dizzy.

You think you might pass out.

“What did I say the rules were, hm? ‘You remember ‘em?” He mumbles in a steady tone, speaking awfully softly with his lips pressed against your temple. Waiting for your answer.

You give a sob and a pitiful nod, and he hums in return, rubbing calm circles into your shivering, goose-fleshed skin.

“Recite them for me.” He requests, nose rubbing your hairline as you shiver from his touch.

Voice unsteady, filtered through tears and a hopeless sense of terror – chin tipped up, needing to gasp for breaths. “N-no fighting, no- no arguing, no run- running-”

“Mh…” He hums, taking in the scent of your shampoo with a sniff of your crown, placing a kiss there as though in kudos – or as a small mercy before getting started. “And you managed to do all three in one night. ‘You feel proud, hm? ‘You feel accomplished? Hm? Was it worth it?”

You whimper under the interrogation, feeling smaller and smaller by the second – so exposed where you are, practically hanging from the ceiling like dead meat. Stripped of everything that might’ve protected you – or that would have at least cushioned the coming onslaught of pain you knew to dread.

“Nah… it’s written all over your body. Goosebumps and cold sweat, shaking from tits to toes. You regret it, don’t you?” He murmured, winding his belt around his fist once, then twice, leaving a looped tail. “Mh, maybe you’ll think twice about it next time... or maybe you’ll finally learn your place.”

He finished with a soft bite to the chub of your cheek, then grabbed your chin just as gently, holding your face up to look at him as he sidestepped to your front. Leaning his forehead against yours, he stroked your jaw with his thumb – lips hovering just short of yours.

“I'm gonna hurt you, Sweetie.” He purred, stroking your asscheek with the cool leather in his grip – in such gross contrast to what you knew he planned on using it for. “I promised I would, and now I will…”

He kissed your lips then – slowly, sweetly – suffocatingly so as you cried – tasting your tears and doing a terrible job at withholding his grin as you felt it pull giddily at the corner of his mouth.

He licked his lips once he pulled away, walking a circle around you like a shark.

“How many hits do you deserve?” He mused. “I guess one for each rule you broke is fair, but it seems a little scant…”

He stopped behind you, placing a chaste kiss on your arm before nuzzling around it.

“Should we say thirty?” He offered, and your eyes immediately widened.

Shaking your head furiously, prayers already coming out in splutters. “No- please-”

“No? Too many?” He pouted, not bothering to mask his glee now. “Okay, okay, calm down, baby. Breathe.” He soothed with no effort. “I think…”

There was a pause – a hum of thought as he wrapped his arms around your front and swayed you back against his chest in a hug.

“Ugh fuck, I'm no good makin’ rules on the fly…” He feigned - sinking his jaw into the grove of your armpit before cuddling the soft flesh with his chin-stubble.

He sucked his teeth in a further display of thought before releasing an exasperated sigh.

“I really didn’t think you’d break ‘em, y’know? I thought you’d be a good pet…”

You trembled, eyes looking down at the belt held between his big hands – whimpering at the sight of him simply playing with it – psyching you out like a true sadist.

“But you just had to disappoint me, didn’t you?”

You bit your lip to stop a sob.

“Had to be difficult… and now I gotta make difficult decisions…”

He slinked off you, leaving you to wobble – toes barely grazing the cold basement floor.

You try your best to prepare yourself for the next events, but the more you brace yourself the more tense you get and the harder you cry. “Please- I’ll be good- promise- m’real- really sorry-”

“I know, baby. I know~ I am, too.” He coos, kissing your spine while rubbing circles into your sides – feeling your ribs rattle with sniffles, struggling for air through your panic. “I wanna make sure we never have to be sorry again.”

He wraps an arm around the front of your hips, steadying you while stroking the loop of his belt over your plump cheeks – tentatively teasing the soft flesh with what was soon to come.

He licked his lips at the promise – already imagining the flawless flesh blooming with his marks.

“I think thirty is fair.”

“No- no please- please, don’t-” You thrash – but do so little more than in place.

“Don’t squirm.” He interrupts, his hand curling into your hip with blunt nails denting the fine skin, keeping you still, pushing your side snugly against his front – holding you intimately while gruffing out eerie murmurs still much too softly for what he was saying. “Remember, it’s another ten hits if you fight me and another ten if you argue.”

At least he doesn’t make you count....

You wouldn’t have been able to even under threat – too busy wailing.

Each hit like the lash of a whip, smacking you fast, one on top of the other. It’s enough to make you throw up after half of it – though it's mostly just water and acid.

He takes pity enough to allow you a small break. Wringing off his wife-beater and wiping your mouth with it – also brushing some of the sweat off your brow before kissing your forehead.

“Halfway there, Sweetie- you’re doing so good~” He whispered soothingly, holding your cheeks to pick your face up from hanging – looking into the hopeless look of your opium-blown eyes – so lost he didn’t know if you could even hear him.

He acts as though he’s sorry after, but the boner he’s got nudged against you doesn’t lie – desperately dry-humping your thigh for some sort of relief.

His breaths are tight and hot, puffed against your arm where he now mouths wet kisses. “Good-” He swallows thickly, brows tight-knit, voice thick with lust. “Good pet.”

You hadn’t noticed he was done. And the relief doesn’t register either. There isn’t much comfort in it to grasp, not with the pain still so numbingly intense that you can’t feel anything but the raw sting.

He drops the belt to the floor and struggles his fly open, shoving the trousers down along with his boxers, stepping out of the heap in a rush – all the while sucking sloppy kisses on your shoulder and nape, mumbling praise. “Y’were so good- so good fo’me- gonna reward yah- my good fuckin’ baby- gonna make yah feel so fuckin’ good now-”

The flesh of your ass burns with welts and split skin, ugly marks already lining the once-pretty color with horrid shades of bruise-dark. Your throat’s ripped raw from all the wailing – only weeping harder when he takes your hips and sways you back to meet his fat erection.

He shamelessly rubs himself between your cheeks – frenzied with his mouth gaping, releasing a filthy shuddering moan while leering at the beautiful sight of his handiwork – feeling so proud he was blushing just from sheer sadistic enjoyment – even letting slip a breathy laugh now.

He hung his tongue out and let his drool drip onto the shaft, then placed another kiss between your shoulder blades. Gliding his tip down and, with the help of a hand, pushed it between your cheeks until it caught your entrance.

A rugged groan blew hotly down your spine, and another cry was ripped from your chest as he sunk inside without a single spare second to waste.

He laid his face to rest against your back, nudging up inside you slowly with both arms wrapping around you like before – holding you snugly before he began the intimate pace, fucking only the deepest coziest parts of you.

“I love you, Sunshine- you’re mine- only one I give two shits about- rest can just fuck off for all I care- as long as I have you- right here… forever.”

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Shoto, Kirishima, Dabi, Hawks, Aizawa, Overhaul ♡ JJK – Sukuna, Nanami, Geto, Gojo, Naoya, Toji ♡ HQ – Iwaizumi, Matsukawa, Sakusa, Miya twins, Suna ♡ CSM – Aki ♡ BLLK – Reo, Isagi, Kunigami ♡ DS – Doma, Sanemi

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

#yandere x reader #yandere #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere smut #yancore #yandere bakugo #yandere kirishima #yandere dabi #yandere hawks #yandere boku no hero academia #yandere jjk #yandere haikyuu #yandere toji #yandere nanami #yandere geto #yandere demon slayer #yandere blue lock #yandere csm

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fanaticsnail · 4 months

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I Don't Want To Hurt You

Masterlist Here, Pollen Masterlist Here

Word count: 3,900+

Synopsis: You have been married to Charlotte Katakuri for five years, and not once has he engaged with you intimately. You had not even seen his face without the shroud of fur atop it. In desperation for grandchildren from the minister of flour, his mother drugs him with a powerful aphrodesiac. The only cure is to give in to his desires and finally claim you as his spouse.

Warnings: Katakuri x f!reader, husband x wife, some gendered terms used, dub con, pollen trope, forced to engage in intimacy, mutual pining, interfering mother in law, NSFW, 18+, MDNI, Katakuri loves you, he doesn't want to hurt you, size difference, swearing, mentions of pregnancy.

Notes: Getting this out of my head and added him to the pollen list. He needed it, I think.

Tag list: @sordidmusings @nerium-lil @feral-artistry @since-im-already-here @writingmysanity @indydonuts @gingernut1314 @i-am-vita @carrotsunshine @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @sunnyferr

The desperation and neediness in his rough huffs and pants of breath were too much for him to bear. His body gave in, finally feeling the incessant need to release his steely cock from the confines of his leather pants the moment he stepped into the safety of his private room. Unbuckling his belt, his pants pooled at his ankles and his right hand immediately flew to his cock.

He pulled his furred covering further up his face to muffle the wanton moans and feral growls from escaping his lips and painting the atmosphere with his desires. Gripping his cock in a vice-like fist, he began to piston his hand and brace his back against the wall behind him. The need for relief in release overcame him, and he chased his high harder and faster in his palm.

Charlotte Katakuri knew his mother wanted grandchildren from him. She married him off to the first willing bride the moment they came of age. He had been with you for almost five years now, and he found you to be the most beautiful creature he had ever set his eyes on. A perfect match for him, and truly the best partner he could ever find in another.

Although he was attracted to you physically, he never once allowed his body to enter yours due to the incredibly large size difference between you. As he thought of you romantically and dotingly, he never once in all that time thought you ever felt the same way for him.

The union between the two of you remained unconsummated, much to the chagrin of his interfering mother. She consistently ordered him to get you pregnant, to make her more hulking crewmembers and swell her family to a larger number. But he never did. He outright refused.

He couldn’t do that to you.

You were intelligent, charismatic, kind, and innocent compared to him. He had to claw tooth and nail for the respect he now had, his bestial face was the cause of fear for so many. He was yet to display his lips and teeth to you in the assumption you may feel similar to the others he had allowed to view him prior. He was a beast, and he refused to permit you to see him as such.

Katakuri clapped his hand over the shroud and jammed the material into his lips as a makeshift gag to prevent the muffled moans from expelling themselves further. His hips began to rut into his palm as he stood with his back against the locked door. He clamped his eyes tightly shut, feeling his approach towards ecstasy slowly slipping from his sight the moment he tasted it on the tip of his tongue.

He whined, desperately chasing it harder and faster in bucking his hips into his fist. “No, no, no, no,” his muffled whisper desperately panted. His breathing hitched, his brows furrowing as his pearlescent precum was the only spill he felt in a twitch against his fingers.

“Why-...?” He stuttered, his eyes reopening and searching for a rhyme or reason he couldn't spill his seed into his hand like the other times he felt these urges come over him. “Why can't I-...?” Eyes trailing down to his fur scarf and noticing a soft sheen of the finest dust he had ever seen coating the strands of hair.

He roared in rage, immediately thrusting the material away from his lips across the room with a great force. He gnashed his teeth, drool beginning to coat his lips with the fury he felt at this cruel invasion of his privacy.

Charlotte Linlin had finally done it. She had crossed that boundary to force him to disrespect and ravage his spouse. This was the only cure for this disgusting invasion of his senses, now encumbered by dust from the pollen aphrodisiac. His need to respect you, and ensure you had no reason to fear him, was far greater than these urges he felt now, and he was certain he could be rid of it without aid.

His mother had done something similar to her lovers in the past, drugging them so they would be desperate to perform the task of making Katakuri an army of full blooded and half siblings. He never thought she would turn this on her own son, an oversight he was making up for now.

He needed to be rid of it without assistance. He didn't want to hurt you, frighten you, or cause you harm with his larger body tearing apart your smaller one. His desperation came out in the form of a suppressed, needy roar as he felt his cock throb in his hand.

“Not like this,” he whispered, bracing himself against the door by clawing the panels. He stumbled towards the ensuite bathroom, shaking hand continuing to brace himself against each surface as he continued to thrust his fist firmly down his veiny shaft and stampede his release towards finality.

“I can't do this to you,” he whimpered, his hand finding the copper taps and turning on the liquid to fill the bath. “I won't do this to you.” He immediately stepped into the bath, his pupils remaining fully dilated and influenced by the dust within his respiratory system and bloodstream.

Sitting beside your sister in law, you lulled your head to the side and arched your brows up at the rows of tiles spaced out in front of you. Nine by four, and face down on the doilies margining the tea table, you rolled two dice to determine who gathers the spare tile to begin your little game.

“I got a four,” you shrug, looking at Brûlée's dice. “Oh, you win with that five!” you smile at her, offering her the single, vacant tile to begin the mahjong game. She returned your smile, selecting a random starting point and sliding down the carved tiles.

As your game continued, you all managed to get several numbers you needed from one to nine. The sheer number of times you played this game with Brûlée made for speed in completion. She was as fast as you, both swapping numbers and tiles as you needed it to order them.

After you managed to complete the game for the umpteenth time today, she offered you her large hand to shake in mutual celebration of winning your games. Wrapping your fingers around her index finger and giving it a soft shake, she offered you a genuine smile and a curious gaze.

“What's that look for, my favorite sister in law?” you asked her, your own curiosity marking your features. She sucked her lips in, darting her eyes between yours and silently assessing you before speaking.

“I have a confession to make, my beautiful sister in law,” she muttered in her cackling cadence. You sat back in your seat and silently examined her posture in response with a curious glance.

“I'm not a priest,” you shrug with a soft smile, “There's no need to confess anything to me.” She laughs in response, shaking her head and beginning to pack up your joint games into a hessian bag.

She gulped back a sheepish mouthful of saliva before turning her attention back to you. Her temples were beading with soft droplets of nervous sweat, her lips chapped and injured from how hard she was biting on them, and her eyes darting between yours as she asked her question.

“Are you in love with my brother?” she asked you with a subtle underlying question masked beneath her words. You sighed, closing your eyes as you focussed on finding the right words to respond.

“I have been married to your brother for over five years,” you nodded with your eyes reopening, looking at the table ahead and sighing out further, “I want-...” you look up into her eyes and hold nothing but truth and honesty in your expression, “...I want nothing more than to love him. I want him to love me.” You shake your head, looking back to the floor and kicking your toes.

“Your mother has been pestering me, insistent that we make her grandchildren immediately, but,” you suck in a lengthy, shaken breath and look up at Brûlée, “We have yet to share a single touch, let alone a night together in unity. He thinks he’ll break me, I’m sure.” Brûlée offers you a soft smile, reaching forward one of her larger hands and grimacing immediately thereafter.

“Ah, that’s where my confession comes in,” she cringes, looking at where her hand descended upon your shoulder, “My mother has taken matters into her own hands to give him another push. She, uh…” Brûlée gives your shoulder a gentle squeeze before admitting to you the seriousness of the situation, “...She drugged him.”

“She what?” you ask, flinching away from your sister in law and stare at her with eyes wide in shock.

“She laced his shroud with an aphrodisiac, and a potent one at that,” she confessed with a soft nod, “As you are my favorite sister in law, I thought it was only fair to warn you of the severity of what’s waiting for you when you return to your marriage suite.”

Your blood ran cold, mind racing with the remainder of the severity in circumstances awaiting you beyond the door. Still hearing the echo in Brûlée’s voice, you reached for the doorknob with a shaky hand and quivering lip.

“He’s going to be unhinged, consumed with lust,” her voice rang in your mind, “He will likely attempt to ravish you as soon as he sees you, lacking any semblance of restraint or self-control.” You made a mental note to thank Brûlée later for her honesty, but your mind remained swirling with the knowledge that your husband is likely going to hurt you.

“When you see his face,” your hand turned the doorknob, slowly creaking the door open inwards to your joint suite, “Try not to scream. He-... He’s self-conscious about his mouth.” You slowly stepped into the room, preparing yourself to be immediately met with your husband’s sizable hands and gripped tightly.

Yet nothing happened.

Nothing but a soft hummed whimper from beyond the bathroom door was met with you as you slowly made your way in. Water splashing in rhythmic bursts and a rumble of a frantic, stifled roar was muffled between the clamped jaw of the man you had come to love.

The bathroom door was left slightly ajar, the steam from the bath was exiting the space in a soft puff. Your curiosity was tingling at the corners of your mind and shooting down your spine.

“The only way he can be cured is by-...” you heard Brûlée’s choked confession in your mind, your body urging you to witness what was behind the door. Offering a simple knock, a barked growl came in the form of a rumbled exhale in response.

“Leave,” he spat, the splashing never ceasing and his pants growing more desperate, “Leave me. I-I can-... ngghmm-... I can handle it.” You refused to heed his command, pushing past the door and witnessing the majesty of your seventeen foot husband sitting in the golden spa in the bathroom.

His brow was creased, his eyes scrunched shut in concentration, his lips parted and huffing out pants of pleasure, and his fist thrusting beneath the murky water and shaking the suds from his forearm with each crude motion. A blush immediately rose to your cheeks as you continued watching him from your position in the doorway.

As you began to move closer, his eyes opened and his feral stare snapped over to you. Jaw opening and closing, his pupils dilating to eclipse that chocolate-brown hue you adored so much, and his hips rocking to meet his arm beneath the water.

“Please leave,” he begged, imploring you to leave the room for your own safety with wide eyes, “I can’t do this to you. I won’t.” He whimpered, his jaw protruding as he bit back his wanton desire to fill you with his girthy cock.

You couldn’t tear your eyes away from him. His jaw began to shake and quiver, pointed teeth chattering as he desperately bit at his lips to stifle his desperation. You hesitated slightly, rocking on your feet before hardening your resolve.

“...Giving in,” Brûlée’s voice echoed in your mind. Looking down at your husband in the soapy bathtub, you were overcome with admiration and love. There was nothing to fear in his lips, reflecting on Brûlée’s earlier sentiment of warning. He was perfect to you, and five years of longing finally began to catch up with you.

Stepping closer still, he flinched away with eyes wide and somberly pleading for you to not tempt him further. He was large, and you were of average standing and stature for a person of your size. In fear of harming you, he reached his hand down onto his thigh and dug his nails into the flesh while pumping his cock.

“You need to give in,” you offer him with a calmness to satiate the beastly form of your husband, “Give in to me.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he growled at you, scrunching his eyes shut in a bid to ignore what his body was so desperately screaming at him to enact. Shaking your head, you pressed on in your journey over to him.

“I want you to,” You drew yourself closer still, rolling the straps of your dress over your shoulders and flinging it to the side. Your lingerie was the next to pool at your feet, leaving you bare as you began to step into the water.

Without further warning, Charlotte Katakuri thrust himself forward and caged his head between your thighs. You shrieked in shock as he held your lower back firmly within a single, hot hand while his other busied itself against his steely shaft. He leaned back against the wall of the spa and took your body with him on his descent.

Parting his lips and releasing his tongue from his mouth, he began lapping at your glistening core with gentle moans and whimpers escaping from his chest in a desperate pant. His tongue shot tingles up your spine with each crude lap.

The length and width of his tongue was far greater than your slit, his organ reaching all of the places that had your toes curling at once. He rocked your hips against his lengthy tongue, groaning as your pussy began to drip onto his salivating organ with your unbridled lust depicted in your slick arousal.

Your hands shot down to his plum-colored hair and gripped him as you felt the call of ecstasy approaching almost immediately from his skilled ministrations. Mewls and whimpers flinging into the air, your shock never ceases and only grows as the sparks of release fizz within your core.

“Oh-... f-fuck-... I’m gonna-...” you began, failing to find the words as Katakuri growled against your contracting pussy. The vibrations fog your mind as your body ignites in tingling ecstasy. White flashes behind your eyes as your jaw falls slack in reaction to the bliss.

Katakuri never ceases grinding you down against his open mouth, his tongue greedily lapping at you and prolonging your orgasm to shaky overstimulation. You desperately attempt to pull his face away, but he shakes his head with a barking growl and continues on bullying you with his mouth.

Your toes tingle, legs shaking as you use all your strength to attempt to draw his head away from your pussy to no avail. You whimper and whine, beginning to sob as he greedily laps at your pussy: gyrating your hips in a harsh rock and thighs grinding against his cheeks. He never tore his eyes away from you, the feral beast lurking beneath his skin preventing him from being the chivalrous and doting partner you once knew.

He had you in his clutches, and there was no way he was going to give up this opportunity to bring you pleasure. His carnal desires had his eyes rolling in his head as he continued to feel the rapid flutter of your walls and twitch of your overstimulated clit warning him of your secondary wave of bliss.

“Ka-... Katakuri, s-stop,” you whined, your knees squeezed his larger head between your thighs and you attempted to wriggle away from his greedy tongue, “Katakuri, I-I’m gonna c-cum again!” The intensity of the waves you were being ushered through heightened as a gush of your arousal flooded Katakuri’s tongue and mouth.

Another explosion of ecstasy was paved by the skilled lulling and lapping of Katakuri’s lips and tongue. The ribbed indents of his teeth rolling against your fluttering walls as you rode his face felt unlike anything you had experienced with another. He took your fluttering walls contracting around nothing as consent to enter you with it, your heat coaxing and beckoning him to finally give in to his urges.

Finally lifting you from his head, he breathily panted as he opened and closed his tingling jaw. Rolling his tongue over his teeth, he sampled the arousal of your pussy on his palate and hummed in response. Lowering you into the water, you felt the blunt tip of his larger cock brush with your slit. The slickened release of two orgasms was still not enough to ease his cock inside your smaller body.

“Are you cer-... f-fuck-... Certain you want to do this?” he gritted his teeth in a steely clamp and hissed at you, lining his cock up with you by circling it with his fist beneath the water. “I don’t want to do this to you. Not like this.” He slowly inched you further onto his cock, your body stretching to accommodate his width. The sting around your walls prompted you to wince, but you refused to deny him.

“I want you to,” you softened your face, attempting to relax your body, “I want you.” Your confession had Katakuri’s eyes hanging half-lidded and his teeth chattering.

“I’ve-...” he groaned, hissing out your name as he felt the first twitch of your body finally widen enough for his broad tip to enter you, “...I've wanted you the moment I first saw you. The moment you agreed to this union.” He whimpered, bringing his other hand up to cradle your shoulders and thumb soft, soothing circles into your skin.

A soft sniffle fell from your nose in reaction to his confession, both of you silently cursing your mother in law for dousing him like this with the aphrodisiac. Katakuri finally felt your body stretch enough to completely take his aching knob within you, your body claiming the ribbed edge within your walls. He huffed out his gratitude, almost immediately spilling over his release the moment he felt the warmth of your heat take him in.

“It will all be over soon,” Katakuri confessed to you with a somber expression on his face, “Em-... fuck-... Embarrassingly soon.” You gently reached up and caressed his cheeks in your hands. Darting your eyes between his, your eyes swelled with emotion as he sunk more of himself into you.

“There is-... ah-... nothing to be embarrassed about, my love,” you whimpered, your brows furrowing as you took more of him into you. Only managing to sink a third of his cock within you, he slowly raised you up with one hand before sinking you back down. You had never felt more full in your life, your body stuffed beyond your maximum capacity by his quivering shaft.

“I-I’m g-gonna cum,” he confessed in a husky growl, sleeving as much of himself within you as you could take. “I-I’m cumming. I’m-...hhah-... I’m cumming.” His motions became more feral, more beastly as he chased his high in your body. You winced while mewling a few cries, feeling his blunt tip almost break past the barrier of your cervix and breach your womb.

To stifle your cry, you lunged forward and claimed his lips in a desperate and searing kiss. His eyes grow wide in shock, immediately exploding his sticky release deep within your body beneath the bathwater. Ribbons of his pearlescent release spurted from his small slit and hit you with such force internally it left you breathless.

He removed his hand from your shoulder, joining the other on your hips and bucked up into you. Focussing on your lips, he closed his eyes and groaned his relief into your lips. Coasting through the waves of ecstasy, he continued a staggered staccato of rhythmic bucks in shallow thrusts.

The slosh of water spilled over the sides of the bath and splashed onto the floor around you. You rotated your chin, mouthing at his lips and attempting to relay onto him the emotions you had suppressed for so long. With his cock still sheathed within you, he focussed entirely on your lips with his own.

His kiss was soft and gentle, his teeth unintentionally grazing your skin with each soft turn and tip of his lips. As you attempted to withdraw from his lips, he chased you and groaned at the absence.

“One more,” he mumbled, his chest rising from the water and lips falling against yours, “Just one more.” You giggled against his lips, granting him a lengthier and more desperate kiss. The force of your faces colliding had your nose scrunch affectionately against his own. His lips smiled against you, humming dopily and breathily against your lips.

Twin smiles reflected in each other’s lips, finally feeling the unity between you both as spouses. He slowly retracted his cock from your walls, continuing to move his lips dotingly against your own in an apologetic oscillation. You whined into his lips, your heart jumping to your chest with how much you truly loved him.

You attempted to pull away from his lips to gaze into your lover’s face, only for him to purr a soft growl of disapproval from the partition once more. He pecked your lips with a soft kiss to stamp you with his affection before allowing you to finally part from him.

He stroked your hair, his eyelids dancing with a soft flutter of his eyelashes. His expression was a combination of true sorrow and repentance. Feeling the remnants of the pollen finally flee from his system and have his true nature return to him had his regrets showcased on his features.

“I never wanted to hurt you,” he whispered carefully, “Not like that. I could’ve broken you, or something more sinister.” He tilted his chin away and broke his eye contact from your face.

“But you didn’t,” you whisper, collecting his cheek in your palm and gently coaxing his face back to meet yours. He turns his head and gazes apologetically into your eyes and pressed his lips to your palm.

“Forgive me,” he asked in a voice just above a whisper, closing his eyes and leaning forward to brush his forehead with yours. You meet his head and close your own eyes shut in response.

“There is nothing to forgive, my love,” you whisper in a similar cadence before quirking up your eyebrow at him, “Unless what you’re apologizing for is not claiming me sooner,” you pull away and smirk at him with a mischievous grin, “In which case, I don’t think I can forgive you for that.” Katakuri froze, his body tingling at your confession.

“Then please tell me what I can do to make up for my maltreatment of your needs,” he smiled with half-lidded lashes and leaned up in your embrace, “I am desperate to know,” You leaned down, your chest now lining up with his chin from your position on his lap, while your eyes held more sultry mischief within.

“I can think of a few things,” you whisper affectionately down at him, “But I think I might need a little time to recover before we begin your apology from being properly received.” A soft rumble reverberated in Katakuri’s chest, swelling into a growl in his smile.

“I will spend the rest of my days making it up to you,” he whispered in response before collecting your lips beneath his in another soft kiss.

#one piece #x reader #Charlotte Katakuri #katakuri #Katakuri x reader #Charlotte Katakuri x reader #pollen #afab!reader #one piece x reader #one piece smut #katakuri smut

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