#v: Remember Reach

[deus-ex-mona]

omg happy 10th birthday to inokori sensei

[sorryiliketoscreenshot]

[error404vnotfound]

if I had a nickel for every time a ship of mine wasn't able to be together because one of them had dreams of going out at sea and find themselves and achieve their dreams while the other one stayed to rule I'd have two nickels which isn't much but it's weird that it happened twice

[scionshtola]

man h*rmes really just. did not have the tools to help m*teion properly process all that despair. and how could he! no one else had them (the flowers were always white!). but he cared about her. and he wanted her to go out and learn how to deal with despair and more (in the course of your long journey you will learn from those you meet. learn to walk and run and so much more). and it’s just so sad to me. if he knew how to handle his own despair, if he knew that everyone had to find their own reason for living, he wouldn’t have needed to send her out in the first place.

[bri-does-art]

Hi, just popping in to say I'm alive, still working on the next chapter and those ask responses, everything's good. |'D In case anyone was worried!

[toucansafari]

Fellow adhd-havers, how do you consistently take your meds and practice skincare?

[caruliaa]

got a sudden urge to listen to the twisted soundtrack and now i am. i should rewatch it

[noxtivagus]

hex is pretty cool

[eupheme]

— sugar, sugar

[part ii] | [part iii] | [masterlist]

wolverine/logan howlett x neighbor!f!reader

rated e - 6.5k

tags: asshole friend!wade, (sorta soft) roommate!logan, baker!neighbor!reader, flirting, mutual yearning, immature humor, a reference to while you were sleeping, wingman!wade and the worse way to meet someone, light angst, oral sex, swallowing, fingering, v. light ass play, unprotected PiV, appearance of The Claws, what’s a refractory period, sorta audible voyeurism (brief/humorous)

a/n: includes spoilers for deadpool & wolverine (which omg I loved - what was your fave cameo?)

Your eccentric neighbor Wade may drive you a little up the wall… but, you’re willing to put up with him if it means he’ll introduce you to his new, grumpy-looking roommate.

“You gonna introduce me?”

You’ve cornered Wade in the apartment’s laundry room - the door to the front-loading washer hanging open as he holds a bundle of red fabric up to his chest.

“You think this will wash out?” 

The suit in question looks like it had been run over by a truck and then set on fire, with the rips criss-crossed in the leather and the numerous charred holes scattered across the chest.

“Definitely.” Your eyes flicker down, and then back up, “So, will you?”

He bundles the suit up - flinging into the back of the washer, the laundry basket still tucked under an arm.

“Really? Not even ‘hello, Wade’? ‘Looking good, Wade’?” His voice pitches up, imitating yours, “Does our friendship really mean nothing to you?”

You wouldn’t necessarily call Wade Wilson a friend.

In fact, he’s honestly the worst neighbor you’ve ever had. 

Loud, obnoxious. Persuasive - the first night you met you had been banging on his door at three in the morning, yelling at him to shut up as music and a caterwauling voice blared through the shared wall.

Ten minutes later you were playing the drums on his late night session of Rock Band, using a banana and a wooden spoon in place of sticks. Only for Althea to stomp out of her room and shut everything down, scaring both of you out of your skins.  

But sometimes, you think - remembering the times he came through for you, a shoulder to cry on, helping him this slump he’s been digging himself out of - he might just be the best, as well.

And maybe that was friendship, after all. 

You sigh, leaning against the row of washers. Eyes flicking over him, a small smile tugging at your lips.

“You do look good, Wade,” There’s a tilt of your head, the smile widening, “Glad you lost the toupee, that really wasn’t your color.”

“Ah, ah. Repurposed,” He chides, cupping his crotch, “You wouldn’t believe how much I’ve missed-”

“Ew, stop.” Your face scrunches, a hand covering your eyes as you shield your vision, “Will you please just answer my question?”

He throws a handful of shirts in the washer, “Which was...?”

Your head shakes - a hand on his arm as you reach for a glint of gold in the pile of clothes. Cringing as a handgun appears, held gingerly between thumb and forefinger as you set it on the side table.

“Good call,” He nods, “Dry clean only.”

You can't help a laugh then, even as your hands brace on your hips, “I want to meet your roommate.”

He frowns, “You’ve met Blind Al.”

“Jesus, Wade. Not Al." A hand waves, " I mean Mister Tall, Dark, and Brooding.”

You’ve seen the stranger in the hallways a few times in the month since he’s moved in. Scruffy and scowling the first time, a silent shadow behind Wade’s endless chatter. 

But in the weeks following, that look had softened. You’d stopped by twice with cookies to welcome him, but every time you’ve just gotten Al.

Not that you dislike Al, that’s not it at all. She’s sweet enough to you when it’s not 3 a.m. or if Wade doesn’t have her annoyed half to death.

But you certainly weren’t harboring a crush on her. Maybe even secretly hoping that maybe the new neighbor will get a little lost and end up at your door, instead of his new place.  

“Ooh,” The syllables draw out - detergent flung in, before he’s leaning against the washer too, facing you. “Yeah, Logan. He's great, got a mean ‘Hugh Jackman’ vibe, just without the singing. You’d like him.”

Something like hope flutters in your belly, but then he’s raising a finger - wiggling it at you, “Just one question though. What’s in it for me?”

That has you scowling, “What do you mean? You owe me. I covered for you when you had that barqueue in the stairwell.”

“God, that was great sausage.” Wade groans, thinking back, “Mmm, but I think Peter covered for me.”

“Who do you think got Peter?”

“Well, I don’t remember seeing you.” He shrugs.

“I was right-,” You pinch the bridge of your nose between thumb and forefinger, a sharp exhale of breath, “Fine. If you do this for me, I’ll do that thing you keep asking me to do.”

Wade gasps gleefully, “You mean you’ll make the triple decker-”

“-chocolate caramel cheesecake chimichangas. Yes.” You finish with him, arms crossing over your chest, “You’re lucky you heal fast because that should put you right into a food coma.”

“Right. Lucky me,” He smirks. A second as he thinks, before he snaps his fingers, “I’m having a little get-together tonight! You should come. Was gonna invite you anyway.”

The pounding in your head ratchets up at the thought that all this could’ve been avoided.

“Logan sleeps on the couch, though,” He adds, sagely, “So just letting you know that if the two of you decide to get your fuck on in my bed, according to the state of New York I am legally allowed to join you.”

“Thanks for the warning,” You grimace - even if you’re certain that cannot possibly be true, “But I do have my own apartment.”

“Oh, right.” There’s the faintest edge of disappointment in his tone, paired with a sigh.

You give him a sideways look, then.

“I saw Vanessa leaving yesterday. Things getting better?”

He sobers at that, eyes moving towards the sliver of a window. The glimpse of the street outside.

“Yeah.” Wade manages, “Yeah, I think so.”

There had once been a flicker of something. In-between your annoyance and exasperation, there were tendrils of tenderness. Long snuffed out, when you had seen just how banged up his heart was. How it’s always belonged to another. 

You had gotten over it. Gotten to a place where seeing him now, like this, makes you smile.

“I’m really glad to hear that.” 

He smiles, then.

“Thanks. Me too.”

“Hey, hold on.” Wade darts in front of his roommate, a leg kicked up high to block the doorway, “Where are you going? You can’t go out.”

Logan scowls, an arm already shoved into his leather jacket, “Sure I can.”

The blow against his shoulder might move a lesser man, but Wade’s fingers just grip the frame even tighter, “But I promised-, I got a friend that wants to meet you. There is some really important shit at stake here. I can’t let you go.”

An eyebrow cocks, “Can’t? I think we both know how that would go if you tried to stop me.”

It would be easy to get into this right here and now, but his suit is still in the dryer and he’s not about to spend another hour cleaning up blood.

“Wait, wait, wait,” He throws a hand up, “Aren’t you listening to me? A girl wants to meet you. She’s hot, she has a job, and she has an apartment. You’re only one outta three there. Can’t you see what a good opportunity this is? This is totally in your favor!”

Logan scoffs, his tongue tucking against his teeth. Hesitating for just a second, but it's enough that Wade knows he’s got him.

“I’ve met your friends,” He eventually acknowledges, “They’re good folk and all, but there isn’t anyone there I’d like to ‘get to know better’, yeah?”

“You haven’t met this one. She lives next door.”

The pause stretches longer this time. Dark eyes dart out into the hallway, and Wade can practically hear those rusted gears turning.

“Apartment 16 or 18?” Logan finally rasps, his arms crossing. 

Oh, he’s definitely got him. Just call him Wade Wilson, New York’s own personal Cupid. New life goal - get his friends laid. 

He nocks a mental arrow - aiming, and then firing with his answer. 

“18.” 

Another beat passes, and then a sigh. 

“Alright.” The leather sleeve slips from his arm, drooping in his fist.

“Five minutes. That’s all I’m staying.”

Wade’s fist pumps. 

Bullseye, motherfucker. 

The apartment is packed and it’s been well past the allotted five minutes. Logan’s been nursing a beer for the last fifteen, eyes flicking over the people he’s grown to know well.

Offering a tight, half-smile when the big man claps him on the back, followed by Opposites Attract. Almost tempted to find that damn dog, just to have something to do. 

Or maybe, just bail all-together.

Starting to think this was all an elaborate prank. Some fucked up aspect of this Earth, unknown to him until now.

He’s too old for this shit. If he heads for the bedroom now, he might make it out the fire escape before anyone notices.

Logan is still entertaining this new thread of thought until he hears his name - called out over whatever fuck-face bullshit boy-band music Wade’s been playing. 

Ambiance, his ass.

The muscles of his crossed arms flex. Catching the way his roommate hauls a girl across the floor - the look of panic on her face as she tosses a container onto the nearest surface.

Wade hadn’t been lying, after all. It was Apartment 18 - that was about as much as he knew about you.

Other than the color of your eyes. The smell of your perfume in the hall. Your hair, your schedule - waking in the mornings to hear your door opening at 5 a.m., five days a week.

A baker. A damn good one, from the bits of cookie he’s snuck when no one was home. 

Had never thought to introduce himself, because he’s been through all this before. Knows better than to reach out in the first place - still nursing the old wound of heartache, one that still flares to life in his chest.

Better not to hope, or even think, at all. 

You stumble when he lets go, and Logan’s hands only curl tighter. Afraid to touch, now that you’re so close. 

A pretty young thing compared to him. This was a fucking stupid idea, his eyes darting away as Wade claps, his hands spreading wide. 

“Logan,” Wade’s tone is cordial, as if discussing the weather, “This is our neighbor, Sugar. She bakes a mean penis cake and likes emotionally unavailable men.”

A dejected sigh as he regards you, “Which is why it’s never worked out between us. I am just too available.”

Penis cake?

Logan shoots you a sideways look, an eyebrow cocked. Caught off guard by this unexpected intro, and it seems you are the same - gauging by the way your mouth drops open. 

Your face swimming with regret, as you hiss, “Oh my god. Wade. It was one time. Why do you have to put it like that?”

Wade’s smile widens, his tone still innocent, “Just skipping over the ‘getting-to-know-you’s, so you can know if you’re compatible.”

Already pivoting to face Logan with a little wink, his own scowl already deepening. Something like nerves flickering to life - as he wonders if this will all be over before it ever begins.

“And this is Logan. He’s from another Earth, is two-hundred years old, and has a metal dong.”

Jesus Christ. 

Logan’s teeth grit, before he snarls, “It’s not made of metal-”

Out of the corner of his eye, catches the curious dip of your gaze. Past the folded twist of his arms, the flannel, down to his thick belt buckle.

A knock rings out then, interrupting him from any further clarification.

“Ooh! Door,” Wade thumbs over his shoulder, “Go on now, we’ve got some good energy going here. Sugar and spice, I love it.”

A spin on his heel, and he’s leaving them alone. Silence a lingering companion for a long moment, before Logan turns.

“Nice to meet you.” He seethes, jaw working as he shoots daggers at Wade’s back. A hand extended - he’d manage that much at least.

Waiting for you to make an excuse and run, but all you do is fit your hand into his. Soft and strong and a near perfect fit.

Logan doesn’t touch people much anymore unless it’s a hand around a throat, or claws buried deep into a chest. Had almost forgotten what it was like, even if this meeting is close to his own personal version of hell.

“Nice to finally meet you, too.” Your smile is wry. Hands still clasped a moment longer, until he’s withdrawing. 

Your hands shove into your back pockets. The tilt of a head as you regard him, and he lets his eyes meet yours. 

They’re pretty, like the rest of you. Captivating even, if he could use such a word, and Wade’s words ring out in his head. 

She wants to meet you.

He’s wondering if that’s still true. Maybe you’re wondering the same, with the way you look at him. 

“So,” You begin, awkwardly - another unconscious flick of your eyes,“How does-”

“Uh-uh.” Logan’s head shakes. He’s picked up a couple things living with Wade. Never used to be a bargaining man, but he has to admit it has its uses. 

“If you wanna know, you gotta go first.” 

He hates you.

He must, with the way he’s scowling. Thighs spread wide as he sits on the couch you had gestured to, fingers in a vice grip around the bottle. No doubt plotting a dozen ways to ditch you the second he can.

Who wouldn’t, with a meeting like this? You could kill Wade, cheeks burning as you sink into the worn cushions next to him.

That is, until your knee knocks against his. The muscles in his thigh flexing - but Logan lets it rest, instead of pulling away. 

“You gonna-?” His voice is gruff, a low rasp that makes goosebumps raise across your skin. 

“Uh, sure.” Your fingers twist, “Which part did you want to hear about?”

His eyebrows lift. Those dark eyes beneath, almost a hint of amusement in them.

“Right,” The little laugh that bubbles from you is self-conscious, “Well, I don’t really like emotionally unavailable men, they just have a habit of finding me.”

His voice is low, “How would Wade know that?”

“Mm, how would he know about your-?” Your eyes flicker down for the third time, and he shifts. 

“You first.”

“Alright.” You huff, but you’re smiling now. Some of your discomfort easing. 

Logan is even more handsome than you had thought. You like the way his eyes dart away, only to come back and linger. 

It’s starting to make you think that maybe it’s not dislike that has so much of him hidden away. Maybe it’s just been a long time since someone tried to peel any of him back. 

Maybe he’s as nervous as you are.

“Well, he’s had to scare an ex or two away.” You shrug, “He only knows because I told him. And the cake, oh-, that was him, too.”

You turn then, to face him. A shoulder brushing the arm he has thrown across the back of the couch, a flicker in his eyes as you get comfortable beside him.

“Well, Wade had gotten ripped in half a couple years ago,” You nose wrinkles, a wave of your hand, “And it all like, has to grow back, right? It’s so creepy.”

Logan grimaces at your explanation, and you wonder if he understands. You think he must - you had thought he was like Wade, in some ways. 

Different. Special.

“Well, he uh, finished growing everything in,” You make a sweeping gesture over your lower half, “And the next year to celebrate his dickiversary, he ordered a penis cake from my shop.”

“His… dickiversary.” Logan repeats slowly.

The heat is back in your cheeks, but you nod, “Yeah, because it like, it came back and all. And he paid in cash, I couldn’t say no.”

There’s the smallest twitch of Logan’s lips, and it feels like a victory.

“Right. What flavor was it?”

Your smile widens with relief, “Strawberries and cream. It was so good. I’ll have to make it for you sometime.”

A second before you cringe, adding, “I mean, a normal one. Not…”

He hums then, close to a laugh.  

“Sure. You do that.”

You smile, letting your shoulder bump his, “And with that… I think it’s your turn.”

The bit of humor in his expression flattens. A searching look thrown your way, before he inhales a breath.

Setting it free. 

“I’m a mutant.”

Logan waits there, as if expecting something. You only nod, thinking of the ones you know. Colossus, Ellie, Yukio, Domino. Wade. 

“Wade said you were similar to him. I had assumed-” You encourage, waiting.

“Right,” He seems relieved, some of the tension ebbing, “My powers are regenerative, like his. But unlike him, I have these-”

There’s the jerk of his wrist, and three sharp metal claws sprout from between his knuckles. Your gasp is caught in your throat as you cling to his flannel shirt - the surprise bleeding into worry. 

They glint in the light, as his fingers flex. 

“Adamantium instead of bones. All of me is like this.”

The claws sheath themselves inside him again. His wounds smoothing over seconds later, as he scrubs his knuckles across his jeans, wiping away blood. 

Offering out his hand, after. Letting your grip unwind from his shirt, and press against his skin instead. Feeling the tendons in his hand, his wrist. The skeleton beneath utterly unyielding, a weight to his limb that is so unlike your own.

“Metal…” You trail off, as pieces click into place, “I get it now. So does Wade really think there’s like, an actual bone-?”

Logan huffs again, “Guess so.”

You laugh then. A thought sobering you after, as a fingertip drifts up to the dip between his fingers. 

“But doesn’t that hurt?” 

It makes you wince to even think about it. Much less how casually they sprung from him, no different than breathing. 

He shrugs, and it’s heartbreaking.

“Doesn’t even phase me anymore.”

“And, the two hundred years,” Another facet you put together out loud, “You’re still alive because you keep healing? Will it be that way forever?”

His hand flexes in your grip.

“Not forever. Apparently my powers will run out, at some point.” His eyes meet yours, “The Logan in this world is dead. Wade pulled me from another.”

Your brow furrows - always trying to keep up with the snippets that Wade has told you across the years - stories about time-traveling and mutants and even how he came to be. But this seems too deep. Surely Logan must be joking.

“Another world, huh?” You ask, head tilting - trying your best to roll with it, “Won’t they miss you in yours?”

Only now does his face falter. That sharp mask cracking, as his hand pulls from yours. Resting again on the back edge of the couch - his answer low and rough. 

“No. I don’t think so.”

Another jolt racks through your heart. You don’t know him know him yet, but you already can’t believe that could possibly be true. Your fingers fan out, hovering - before it folds into a fist.

“Well then, I’m glad you’re here.”

He doesn’t reply. 

The room is darker now, dim with the setting of the sun. Street lights outside pouring in a golden beam that cuts across his face. 

His eyes are hazel, you can see that now. A fading rim of green spilling into the brown, beneath the near-permanent furrow of his eyebrows. 

Yours caught in the glow of the flamingo string lights that curl out from the kitchen, stapled to the walls.

He breaks the silence, the words coming slowly. 

“Let me ask you one more thing.” 

“Sure. You know some of my worst secrets already.” You smile, a shoulder lifting.

His hand twitches, where it rests near your shoulder. The tip of a finger ghosting against skin.

Just the slightest brush but it feels like it radiates out, lingering after.

“Why’d you tell Wade you wanted to meet me?” 

His voice is still low, rough. But it’s lost that sharp edge. The combination has your stomach tied up in knots, suddenly more nervous that you’ve been the whole night.

Surely he must know? 

“Well…” You hedge. It’s your turn to look away, but then there’s the brush of his fingers again.

“Because I did want to meet you.” You admit, “You, you seemed like someone I wanted to get to know. In whatever capacity you’d like.”

“Is that right, Sugar?” Logan husks, and the nickname sounds even sweeter on his tongue, stealing your breath.

All you can do is nod, as his eyes darken. 

Voices rise behind you, ripping you out of this little bubble you’ve found yourself in. Nearly forgetting just how many people are here, how many eyes have been glancing your way since you’ve arrived.

“Not strip poker Wade, please.” The rough rumbling plea of Colossus’s voice rings out above the others, “You never wear anything under the suit-”

You didn’t even realize when he had changed, but he had - patches of bare skin on his ass showing through the holes. Your nose scrunches, before you turn back to realize that Logan’s eyes are still on you.

Dropping when your tongue peeks out to wet your lips - your words coming out in a soft hush. 

“You want to get out of here?”

You want him. You can only hope that he might just want you, too.

The corner of his lip twitches.

“Thought you’d never ask.”

It’s strange to have someone like Logan in your space. You can remember the last time you’ve wanted someone here.

His fingers still entwined with yours, from where you had reached back for him. Leading him through the dim corners of the room.

Thinking you had made it, only for the rousing cheers to rise when you had cracked the door open to slip through.

His grip tightening when you made to tug your hand free, in an urge to press it against burning cheeks. Letting you fumble with one hand, to open the lock next door.

It’s quieter here. A low echo of the music next door, as the darkness wraps around you again.

Here, his fingers move, but it’s only to skim up your wrist. To tug you between him and the front door, until your back presses against it. 

His nose brushes yours as he steps into your space, your lips already parting. Holding himself there for a moment, inhaling the scent of you as his arm braces above your head.

Leaving you to be the one that closes the gap. The tilt of your head and the press of your lips against his.

A rough hum when your arms wrap around his neck, fingers buried in his hair. His hand gripping at your waist, pulling your hips against his.

Tugging and pushing. A messy path from the front door through the small living room - a mirror-image of the apartment next door.

Through to the bedroom, wandering hands and the brush of his tongue against yours as he deepens the needy kiss. Until his knees are hitting the edge of your bed, and he’s letting you nudge him back onto the mattress.

He brings you with him - your hips cradling his as you settle yourself astride him. Hands flatten against his chest as you rock down - drawing a rough, mumbled “fuck”.

Grinding yourself down where he’s hard, the curve of his cock straining against his jeans. Letting your hands follow, as his own cup your ass. Squeezing, before slipping to press the heel of his hand against the seam at your clit.

You moan into his mouth, as your fingers curl around him. Eyes blown wide when you pull back, scooting your hips down. 

It’s here that he comes back to himself. 

Going tense as you fit yourself between his thighs, fingers at this belt as the other still cups him.

“You shouldn’t want this.” He rasps, those eyes glinting in the dark, “A man like me. You know that, right?”

Propping himself up on an elbow, so he can see your expression. So you can see the way his jaw grits, nostrils flaring. 

It’s a warning, wrapped up in silk. A last ditch effort to scare you away - knowing that once he has you, he won’t want to stop.

Your fingers slow - his zipper half-undone, baring skin and a dark shadow of hair beneath. 

The other pulling away, “You want me to stop?” 

He catches your wrist, jerking your hand back. His hips bucking into your palm, grinding himself into your touch. 

“The last thing I want to fucking do is stop.” It’s almost a growl, “But on my Earth, I-”

You sigh then, impatient, “Logan, this Earth isn’t all that great either. I lost five years of my life to the blip.”

He frowns, not understanding - but your head shakes as you continue, “I’m tired of being too scared to take chances. I’ve been trying to live each day to the fullest, and I’d like to end this one with you.”

And out of everyone - Logan knows a little something about second chances.

“Yeah,” He manages - the grip of his fist leaves you, “Yeah, okay.”

"Thank you,” You answer primly, just as you finish yanking the zipper down. 

His hand beats you in the race to ease himself out, fingers curling around the base. You can’t help it - you inhale a breath at the sight of him.

Heavy, with the way the flushed tip bobs in his grip. Thick enough that you’re already wondering if you’re going to be able to take him. 

The huff he makes turns into a groan as you start small - engulfing the leaking head with your lips. The first inch turns into another as his hips lift, feeding his cock into your waiting mouth. 

Only when he’s halfway inside you, bumping against your throat, does his hand drop. Letting you replace it with your own - squeezing, as drool slicks up his shaft. Your head bobbing in time with the twist of your fist.

That brief hesitance is quickly forgotten. Fingers brush at your cheek, curling around the base of your head as he guides you.

Leaving you eager for more. Another hissed groan when your mouth leaves him, your hand loosening as you strip your clothes away.

“Oh fuck yes,” He coaxes, when he realizes what you’re doing, “Let me see you, baby.” 

Your shirt and pants left to pool on the floor. A second of boldness as you unclasp your bra next, leaving you in your panties as you focus on his cock again. 

A bitten-back moan when your tongue slips across his swollen shaft - an low throb between your thighs as you rub them together, clenching around nothing. Resisting the urge to slip your hand beneath the hem to ease the ache. 

Instead, your keep your hands on him. Goosebumps raising as your nails scratch against the deep v of muscle at his hips. The others working him into your mouth, as he slowly comes more undone. 

His hips flex with each bob of your head, lips parted as he pants. The words a rough mumble, becoming almost desperate. 

“That’s it sweetheart.”

Another moan when you take him deep, hollowing your cheeks as you suck, “Oh fuck, gonna fill that pretty mouth.”

His hand cups your jaw, holding you steady as he bucks into your mouth. Those dark eyes fixed on you in wonder, all that pretty skin bared for him to touch, to taste. He’s mesmerizing like this - the weight of gaze. Jaw slack with pleasure, eyes aflame.

You did this to him. 

It sends something warm flooding through you, as his eyelashes flutter. The tipping back of his head, muscles ticking in his cheek as his teeth ground down. 

A sound still slips between them, as he floods your mouth with the next flex of his hips. Pulsing between your lips as you swallow him down, a choked sound ripping from his chest when you cup his sack to gently squeeze out every last drop. 

Logan melts into the mattress after, an arm thrown over his eyes as he catches his breath. His gaze focusing on you when he feels you squirm - dark, and hungry.

A lithe stretch of muscles as he moves - legs easing from beneath you. 

“Hands and knees,” He commands, head tipping towards the bed next to him, as he rolls off. Kicking off his jeans as you listen, watching over a shoulder as the flannel and white tank underneath joins your clothes on the floor.

Your eyes widen at how toned he is - muscles rippling, the bed dipping as he fits himself behind you.

His broad hand at the small of your back, pushing your torso down against the mattress. A pleased hum then, fingers trailing just along the elastic edge of your underwear.

“Could smell how much she needed this.” The tips of two press against the damp fabric between your thighs, making you gasp, “Even next door. You want it that bad?”

It should be embarrassing that he could tell how much you desired him, but at the moment all you can think about is him touching you more.

“Yes,” You agree, “Please, Logan.”

“So fuckin’ polite,” The fingers withdraw; but only so his nose can replace them. A ragged inhale, just before his tongue drags against your clothed slit.

A groan against your skin as you cry out, before a finger hooks around the fabric, baring you for him to taste.

The heat of his tongue flattens against you - lapping at where you drip with need, a rough rumble in his chest. 

“Sweet, too.” Another flick of his tongue, “Your name. ‘s fitting.”

You can’t manage words. Only his name, muffled against the sheets as your fists twist in them. Back arched as you resist the urge to grind yourself against his tongue, as it flicks against your clit.

It’s messy, how he eats you. You don’t think you’ve even had someone take you like this. Hungry, desperate even, as he devours you. The rumble of a groan against your cunt as his tongue delves inside you, stretching you open. Letting your slick smear into his beard, with how close he presses his mouth.

That need inside you thrumming. Winding tighter as he yanks your panties down your thighs. His palm flattening against your ass, holding you open as he licks you from clit to hole, then higher. Humming as you squeak, when his tongue flattens against your tight rim. 

A thick finger nudging against you then, as his tongue dips back to your clit. There’s no resistance as it slips deeper, into slick walls that clamp down around him.  It’s what you needed - that little bit more.

Unable to help rocking into the crook of his finger now. Whining when a second joins it, spearing deep and curling. Dragging against your walls, loud and wet and filthy with each plunge. 

Your whimpers only grow louder. Needier, as his lips wrap around your clit. Fingers pounding deep, stretching you out. Leaving you babbling, your words slipping together. 

“Don’t fucking stop.” Tears prick at your eyes, each breath a rattling gasp, “Oh my god you’re gonna make me come-”

He has you gushing, with the next flick of his tongue. A pleased groan as he feels your pussy tighten around his fingers, hearing the wail that is muffled into your pillows. That sharp pace slowing, his thumb replacing his tongue to draw your orgasm out until your legs are shaking. 

His fingers sticky when they pull from you, only to slip between his lips - tongue curling around his knuckles, sucking them clean.

It leaves you floating above yourself. You can’t remember ever coming this hard, even by yourself. Only the tintest thread of disappointment as you drift, and it’s only that you won’t get the pleasure of his cock filling you tonight.

You would’ve liked to see what he can do with the rest of him. 

Perhaps you can convince him to stay until morning.

But he moves behind you, instead. His knee pressing against yours, spreading your legs further. The rhythmic shuffle of skin against skin, as his hand slips from between his lips to fist around his cock. 

“Tell me I can fuck you.” It’s not a plea, not with the harsh rasp of his voice. But it’s as close as you’ve heard, as he swipes the tip against your leaking pussy.

Smearing your slick on him, teasing at your waiting hole.

You don’t know how he’s hard again, but at the moment you really don’t care. Not sure if you’ve ever felt a need like this, your back arching further as you present yourself to him. 

A twist of your neck, so your eyes can meet his. 

“Fuck me, Logan.” 

He groans, broad hands squeezing at your ass. Slipping up to sink his fingers into the flesh at your hips. Holding you steady as he lines himself up. 

Your breath held, when you feel his cock start to breach you - muscles stringing tight.

“Relax, sweetheart,” He grits out, though not unkindly, “You can take it.”

Trying to hold himself back from filling you with a single thrust, with the way you’re already gripping him.

Easing himself into your heat. Two inches forward and then one back, and with each one you think you’ll feel the press of his thighs against yours. A low whine as your cunt makes room for him, that sharp stretch as it feels like he’s reaching into your belly.

Feeling full when he finally is flush, the weight of his sack kissing against your clit. His shoulders following the curve of your back, as a hand slips up to plant next to your head.

“Feels fucking incredible,” It’s mumbled against your skin, almost as if it hadn’t meant to say it. 

“Mm,” You grin, your face tipping up to his, “Should’ve met you weeks ago.”

He smirks, a low sound in his throat as his mouth presses to yours. Starting a slow rhythm that drags his cock against your walls. Slipping until he’s halfway out, only to sheath himself again. Pushing the air from your lungs as he flattens himself, knees digging into the bed as your thigh spread wider - forcing him deeper.

It’s almost too much. 

You hand shoots out, reaching. Wrapping around his wrist, nails biting against his skin. 

It feels like he’s surrounding you. Each thrust a heavy weight that presses you into the bed. Splitting you open, until all you can do is squirm beneath him.

That pressure in your belly building again, as his hips pound. His breath, hot and panting in your ear as he chases his own end.

“Fuck, Logan.” You sob, “Harder-”

His tendons flex under your grip. Knuckles pressing flat against the sheets as he makes a rough sound in his throat. 

Those claws unsheathing with his next thrust. Punching down into your mattress. Anchoring as he loses himself to the feel of you beneath him.

How tight and wet and warm you are, your arousal still sweet on his tongue. Fighting the urge to sink his teeth into your throat, as everything tightens up inside him.

“Sweetheart.” It’s a warning, rasped out. 

“Come in me,” You whine, “Wanna feel you.”

He does growl then, at the thought of filling you to the brim, until he's leaking out of your pretty little pussy. Hips snapping faster, pinning you to the bed as he ruts into you. Each squeak of the bed paired with the sharp rip of fabric as his claws dig in. 

Feeling how your body strings tight beneath him, how you clench down in anticipation. Wanting to feel you once more, before he gives in to his own desires.

“Come on, baby,” It’s hushed, murmured against your skin, “Fuckin’ give it to me-”

The sharp point of a canine scraping against your skin, his groan rough and throaty in your ear. 

Your fingers work down to wedge themselves between your thighs. The tips brushing where you’re speared open, before circling your clit like his tongue had.

He has you mindless. Fucked out - that soft glow from your earlier orgasm shining bright as he tips you towards a second.

Burning at that tightly wound thread inside you, until the ends fray, and then snap. 

It has you coming with his next thrust. A wail ripped from you as he buries himself deep, feeling the way your pussy clenches down around him. 

Fingers still swirling, drawing out the deep pulses that fan out from your core as your toes curl, vision going hazy.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” He rasps, those sharp thrust slowing to a sloppy grind, “Make a fucking mess for me, there you go-”

Panting, as he groans. Another roll of his hips before he’s coming with you - teeth bruising skin as they sink into your shoulder. The sound he makes is broken as he spills into you, muscles clenching with each pulse that paints your walls.  

Marking you thoroughly with teeth and come, the saw of his hips slowing until you both finally go still. A breath finally caught. 

Blissed out, when he rolls you both to the side. His thighs still mapping yours, cock still notched deep. A thick arm thrown across your waist, his breath ragged in your ear as he catches his breath.

Your fingers drift, as you bask in your afterglow. Dipping into the rips in your mattress, knuckle deep.

There’s a grunt as you wiggle, the words low in your ear, “I’ll get you another, sweetheart. Just lost control for a moment.”

The thought doesn’t bother you as much as you’d think. In fact, you wouldn’t mind if happened again.

Only as your imagination runs wild, do you hear the muffled moan from the brick wall behind you.

“Fuck, that’s good.”

Dramatic and drawn out, paired with faint rhythmic noise. 

A beat - before you hear mumbled protesting. The voice of someone talking with their mouth full, “No. Back the fuck off Peter, I’m not going to share.” 

Eating. The fucker was eating his end of the bargain, ear pressed to the wall.

The next louder, “Alright, pay up everyone, Operation ‘Get Sugar Some Sugar’ was a success!”

You grimace, eyes rolling. Logan grunts behind you, the words mumbled out sleepily.

“Wish I could sew that goddamn mouth shut.”

There’s a faint “they already tried that!” before Logan’s fist bangs on the wall, shutting him up.

But you can’t help the smile. Your fingers fitting between the ones that rest just below your breasts, squeezing.

“He’s not so bad,” You admit, “Wade, I mean.”

Logan groans, “Don’t say his name while I’m fucking you.”

“You’re-” You start - but then you can feel him.

Still hard - as his hips cant slowly against yours. Your joined hands slip up to cup a breast - as his lips press against your neck, stubble scraping you skin.

“Again?” You breathe, disbelieving that he’d be up for a third time - your hips rocking back to meet his. The sound lewd with how he drips from you - but it only has him grinding himself deeper, “You sure you’re two hundred?”

“Regenerative powers, sweetheart.” Logan husks, the flash of teeth with a knowing smirk.

“Can’t say it doesn’t come with perks.”

I used to have the biggest fucking crush on wolverine, haha - so fun to watch a new movie with him!! 👀💕 thank you so much for reading! And please me know if you'd like to read any more for him! (like more one-shots,etc!)

[jvzebel-x]

🦋

[manygreetingsfriend]

was wondering why i was feeling so weird abt aligning w/ my mom over something then remembered i don’t trust that bitch at all lmao!!!

[kaikree]

me following every okami account that pops up on my feed give me that CONTENT

[goxjo]

｡ﾟﾟ･｡･ﾟﾟ｡ ﾟ. 𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐝 ﾟ･｡･ﾟft. gojo, choso, sukuna, toji

♡ warnings. no reader pronouns, fem anatomy! reader, technically hate fucking, reader is initially very pissed, he is too but he wants to make up, no curse au (choso + sukuna), everything is consensual. gojo cw: some reckless driving, semi-public sex, doggy, getting caught, exhibitionism. choso cw: reader is in a bunny lingerie costume, slight! pet play, suddenly popping a boner, v! fingering. sukuna cw: petty arguments, jealousy, v! fingering. toji cw: jealousy, implied size difference, kabedon!!!, cunnilingus, wall sex. 18+ only, MDNI

♡ a/n. idk if you can already tell by now - I usually make these whenever I have new banners / formats to try out. I really love that heart bubble thingy on the title lol + idk, arguments like these feel a little endearing sometimes. this was very fun to write. enjoy!

♡ links. GEN. MASTERLIST ┆ JJK MASTERLIST

[ ❤︎ ] GOJO SATORU

The car ride home tonight is silent for the most part. It’s your car, your hands on the steering wheel, and therefore your rules. Maybe you haven’t been looking at your speedometer but in case you haven’t noticed, your anger adds more pressure to your foot on the pedal, and you’re a few kilometers past the highway speed limit.

All this because of some petty argument and you barely even remember what it’s about. All you know is, it’s one that made you miss an exit, and it’s another 20 minutes before the next one.

“Baby, slow down.” He sighs with a tinge of worry and slight irritation in his voice. He’s not really keen on the idea of having to watch you flirt with an officer to get out of a speeding ticket. He’ll throw puppy dog eyes to the officer himself if he has to, but he’s putting a pin on that thought for now. There must be something that could remedy the situation (you) for now.

“Don’t talk to me,” you deadpan, lips pursing in your annoyance, eyes dead fixed on the road.

“Fine. Then, I won’t,” he hums, an idea suddenly popping up in his head. “I won’t talk to you. I’ll just…” He fiddles with the hems of your skirt, knuckles lightly stroking your plump and exposed skin.

“What the hell are you doing?” You shift in your seat, quickly taking a glance at your boyfriend.

“Not talking.” It starts with just his fingers, now it’s a full hand, and it’s squeezing and massaging your thigh, reaching higher and higher up till it’s a hair away from your clothed sex.

“That’s a dangerous game you’re playing, Satoru.” You gulp, and he doesn’t fail to notice your breath has shifted, taking deeper inhales and longer exhales the closer he gets to your panties.

And he knows it’s a dangerous game. But hey, at least you’re not in danger of getting a ticket anymore. He’s glad you’re distracted. One finger hooking on the waistband of your panties is enough to make your breath hitch. Watching you chew on your bottom lip puts a strain in his pants knowing you’re trying your hardest not to be the first to break. You’re so cute when you’re angry, focus never breaking when you reach the woodsy outskirts of your exit, and he wonders if you took the wrong turn.

“Why are we here—”

“You fucking idiot.” You’re fuming as you unbuckle your belt, making your way to the backseat.

“I fucking love you.”

….

He’s never seen you cum so fast before, never seen you more vocal, fingers raking into the leather of your back seat, not a care in the world how expensive it’s going to be to have it replaced. He should piss you off more if it means he’ll have you on all fours again in your car in the middle of the woods, begging and screaming for him to fuck you deeper and deeper a nearby town could mistake your cries for a mating call.

He finds a neat little discovery too when a light shines on your window, practically blinding you, and your insides coil around his cock he’s almost sure he was locked in knots. You’re so fucking hot when you’re embarrassed, unable to help the moans that escape your lips even when a cop knocks on your window.

[ ❤︎ ] KAMO CHOSO

“I already told you I’m sorry!”

You won’t budge, half-sulking-half pissed with your back turned to him on the bed, sitting on your folded legs. You refuse to talk to him too so he settles with hugging you from behind, bunny tail pressing against his crotch. You feel his fingers fidgeting against your stomach, clearly remorseful for what he did. Your boyfriend is the last person on earth who could forget about special dates, let alone an anniversary — or so you thought.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please forgive me.” And you want to forgive him. But you had already spent the last few weeks finding the best anniversary costume present, only to be met with questioning heart eyes at the bunny ears and frilly lingerie, wondering what’s the occasion.

“It’s fine, forget it. Just leave me alone.” You try to wriggle out of his hold, only grinding against him kn the process.

“Won’t let go till I know you’ll allow me to make up for it.”

“Stop, it’s done okay — wait, are you…” At first, you thought it was your puffy tail pressing on your ass but you realize that’s definitely not the case when the thing behind you tripled in size.

“Yeah.” He buries his face deeper in your hair, taking in the sweet smell of you despite your little tantrum. His thumb tries to graze your underboob, fiddling with the frilly wires, popping in and out of the garment, obviously trying to restrain himself. “Sorry, you’re just… so soft.”

“Bunny, I know you’re mad and you can tell me all about it.” His hand reaches for your clothed pussy, fingernails scratching your slit behind the fabric. He finally puts the garment aside, spreading your wet, puffy folds with his pointer and ring fingers before sliding his middle into your slippery hole. “Go on, I’m listening.”

[ ❤︎ ] RYOUMEN SUKUNA

“Don’t ignore me, you.”

“He’s my childhood friend! Just a friend, okay?! Why can’t you understand that?”

“He could be the dog of your sister-in-law’s neighbor, I don’t give a fuck. I don’t want you fucking talking to that guy anymore.”

“It doesn’t mean anything!”

“So? I don’t like how he looks at you — hey, don’t leave! Don’t get mad — c’mon!” He catches up with you when your pace quickens as you bolt through the door. Tattooed arms coming from behind you lock tightly around your waist, his face burrowing into your neck.

“Let me go!”

“Fuck no.” He’s still as a rock the first few seconds as you try to wriggle out of his hold. When you realize it’s futile, he begins to pepper kisses on your exposed shoulder, trailing kisses along your neck up to your temple, as if he’a getting off that easy.

“Ryo, stop!”

“Uh-uh.” He runs his nose across your ear before leaving breathy kisses on your lobe. He’s a fucking menace for knowing exactly what makes you weak in the knees and using that against you.

“If you think that’s going to work, I-I — ohh, fuck.” Your head cranes backwards, leaning on his hard chest when his hand slides down your pants. Heat rises to your cheeks in embarrassment when you realize he found you wet despite all this. Or maybe it’s because of this?

“I don’t know? Seems to be working.” Because it fucking is. And you hate that it is. But his hand — black fingernails grazing your clit sloppy, wetting it with your juices — it feels so hot against your pussy at this stupid moment. His free hand reaches for your tit underneath your shirt around the same time as when he started pumping digits into your hole.

You’re not getting out of this alive.

“You still gonna talk to him?”

“Who?”

[ ❤︎ ] FUSHIGURO TOJI

“I fuckin’ swear, I don’t know how that girl got my number.”

“Don’t care. Go away, Toji.” Standing and towering in front of you, he tries to block you in every which direction. He doesn’t budge. Sneaking past him isn’t an option either as those freakishly long arms could easily prevent you from going anywhere.

You didn’t mean to read his messages. But when an unknown number pops out of your boyfriend’s notifications with kissy emojis followed by a steamy shot of her backside, you can’t help but be… curious.

You’re not sure what to think. On the one hand, you know Toji would never cheat on you or lie to you about these things. On the other hand, you also just found out this isn’t the first time this girl has sent him anything — nor the first time anyone’s sent him anything in the whole duration of your relationship.

“Believe me. I ignore every single one of these text messages, I don’t know how they keep finding me!”

“Yeah, well you could’ve told me.” Toji sighs realizing only now that he should’ve. He didn’t think it mattered or that you would be this bothered when you found out. Clearly, he was wrong.

You take his pause as your cue to walk past him, but a big hand slams to the wall next to you, preventing you from walking any further. His hand slides higher as he leans closer to the wall, forcing you to back up and hide in his shadow.

His lips are a breath away, eyes staring at yours through his lashes. His free hand cups your chin, gently forcing you to listen to him carefully. “I never told you because I didn’t care about any of them.”

His hand reaches for the skirt of your dress, balling the fabric into his fist as he raises the fabric till your thighs are exposed. “Why would I care about any of them when I have you,” he slides his hand into your panties, stroking stripes along your wet slit, “and this pussy.”

You all but melt into his touch, pussy squirming underneath his hold. Toji slowly kneels to the floor, taking your panties with him before throwing them aside. He pushes your knees aside, staring right at you as his hot breath fans your exposed cunt. “This pussy. Always so fucking ready for me.”

His wet muscle parts your folds, licking heavenly stripes on your throbbing clit. You lean on the wall for dear life, one hand above your head, the other on your partner’s head, shoving him closer to your pussy as you ride his mouth.

“I’m changing my number, I promise.”

♡ reblogs & comments are appreciated ♡

[plutotheplum]

A Lust for Love

sylus x fem!reader - part 2 to resonance

summary: ever since you've left the N109 zone, you find yourself missing a certain white-haired man.

cw: nsfw (18+) - mdni!!, masturbation, oral sex - m!receiving, p in v, light spanking, dirty talk, possessiveness, praise kink, inappropriate video, size mentions

wc: 5.7k

a/n: the amount of times sylus kept autocorrecting to stylus has actually driven me insane. also, this could work as a standalone (i think)... thank you for reading! <3

also on ao3!

It’s been a month since you’ve left the N109 Zone. 

You had settled back into your old routine easily enough. Jenna had kept you busy, sending you out on mission after mission. However, Wanderer incidents had become relatively stable over the past few weeks, so much so that you were hardly fighting them. Your time had been taken up by training instead, spent out at either the facilities provided by the Hunter Association. 

Life had become so mundane as of late that you found yourself missing the thrill of the N109 Zone. It had kept you on your toes, challenged you and the investigative work had been far more rewarding, not to mention you had managed to retrieve the Aether Core’s other half, which was now safely hidden in your possession. To your chagrin, the modified protocore hadn’t done anything special. You had tried experimenting on it with your Evol, but all that was left was a dull shine. 

There was also another reason you were missing the N109 Zone though. That reason came in the form of a white-haired man with crimson eyes. Sylus. You couldn’t believe you were actually thinking it, but you were starting to miss the bastard. The lack of his stupid remarks and untimely jabs were starting to make you feel lonely. This was without mentioning that night of pleasure, of course.

No one had ever touched you like that. You still remember the way he had whispered filth into your ears, the way he had fucked into you without abandon. You had barely been able to keep up with him the next day at training. Stumbling like a fawn, your legs had been shaking so badly that the shopkeeper had grown concerned that your bones were experiencing some sort of unknown, sudden-onset deteriorating disease. Sylus had merely brushed it off, explaining that you had eaten something bad. The smug smile he’d sent behind the shopkeeper’s back had made your eye twitch. 

He hadn’t rewarded you like he had said though. His work had kept him busy, and it was Luke and Kieran that were coming around to keep you company for the remainder of your stay. The twins were definitely a strange pair, but they were sort of cute in a way, and you found that their bickering was reminiscent of the relationship between you and Caleb. 

Mephisto had also taken to accompanying you throughout the base. You weren’t exactly sure what the mechanical bird ate, but after a few little pets and scratches you felt as though it was warming up to you. 

Unfortunately for you, Sylus had left an indelible mark on both your mind and your body. It was probably the reason you were in this very predicament, with your hand stuffed down your shorts in the middle of the night.

You’d been trying to get off for a while now, but no matter how many times you rubbed your clit or tried fingering yourself, you could not get yourself to come. Your fingers couldn’t mimic the way Sylus had fingered you, couldn’t reach as deep inside of you. There’s an irritated grumble leaving you as you squeeze your eyes shut and let out a muffled scream into your pillow.

Taking in another deep breath, you’re deciding to give it another go. The pads of your fingers circle against your aching clit and you’re letting out a soft sigh, lashes fluttering. You imagine Sylus touching you, his lips against your skin as he rocks his hips into you. Wetness begins to leak out and you're biting your lip, letting out a low whine into the quietness of the night. Pleasure begins to coil inside your lower stomach and there’s more whines escaping you, fingers rubbing faster against your clit. You can feel the tension in your body beginning to build, back arching as you remember the way Sylus had spoken to you that night. 

“Please, please,” you’re begging out into the empty room, brows furrowing when the pleasure suddenly stalls and your chances of reaching an orgasm fade “no, please- fuck! ” 

You try and rub a little faster but it’s completely gone, your wrist aching with how long you’ve been at it. Tugging your hand out of your shorts, you stare at it as though it were a traitor. 

There’s frustration etched across your face, your cheek squishing against the pillow as you stare at the wall sullenly. Stupid Sylus with his stupid face and his stupid fingers and stupidly addictive cock. The man had completely ruined your ability to masturbate. 

At your wits end, you decide to give it one last try. You’re desperate, horny and utterly stressed. Just as you’ve managed to slip your hand down your sleep shorts again, your phone begins to ring.

You squeeze your eyes shut, clamping your mouth shut to prevent the scream that wants to escape. It wouldn’t do you any good to get complaints from your neighbors. Grabbing at your phone blindly, you hit the accept button.

“Hello?” you mumble into the phone.

“Stop squirming around in bed, it’s making Mephisto uncomfortable.”

You shoot up when you hear the voice on the other end of the line.

“Sylus?” your voice is a hiss, eyes darting towards the window.

Your cheeks are hot with embarrassment when you see Mephisto sitting on the railing of your balcony, his little crow head tilted as he stares at you. A wince escapes you at the thought of the crow watching your pathetic attempts to get off and it has you mouthing a silent apology towards the bird. 

Mephisto only lets out an indignant caw , turning his beak to the side haughtily.

You groan, flopping back down onto the bed.

“How are you able to see me right now?” you ask, brows furrowing.

“Look outside,” Sylus replies.

You stumble onto your feet, staring out into the darkened surroundings. Eyes squinting, your face presses against the glass, eyes catching on a camera attached to a street light. Oddly enough, the camera tilts towards you. You tilt your head to the other side and it mimics you. 

So he was keeping tabs on you. Creepy, but also a little comforting.

“It’s been a long time,” you murmur, staring out of the window again.

Mephisto’s begun to groom his feathers.

“Do you miss me?” he asks.

You can hear the creak of his chair as he leans back in it.

“No,” you retort, a frown settling on your face. An outright admission of your feelings would be confessing that you would be warming up to him. You weren’t about to give him the satisfaction, especially not when he had more or less ignored you for a month. 

“Liar,” he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice, “in fact, it seems as though my favorite little Hunter is struggling to sleep.”

His favorite little Hunter. The idea of being anyone’s favorite, much less Sylus’s has your heart fluttering wildly. He had been thinking about you then. There’s a darker part of you that hopes Sylus has been having the same problems as you. It would serve him right, after all.

Sylus sighs into the phone, “I did warn you,” he murmurs, “I told you I wouldn’t be there to please you when you were feeling needy.”

“I- I am not feeling needy!” you respond, voice pitching as you protest against his observation.

“Another lie,” he clicks his tongue and you hear more rustling on the other end of the line, “is it your plan to keep lying for the duration of this call, my dear Hunter? Hm?” 

His taunt has you gritting your teeth, until all your frustrations come pouring out.

“You’ve stolen my ability to orgasm!” you snap into the phone, your tone accusing.

“My, my,” Sylus drawls, “how bold you’ve become, hissing at me like a little kitten.” 

“It’s not funny, Sylus” you say, anger replaced by a sense of gloom “ever- ever since that night, I haven’t been able to come at all.”

There’s silence on the other end of the line. You don’t think he was expecting you to actually be honest. There’s a soft sigh escaping you, eyes slipping shut. You can hear the sound of him breathing, then an odd clinking noise.

“I have to go,” he says suddenly and the line cuts off.

You scoff, looking at your phone screen to see that he has in fact ended the call. What an asshole. You had just confided in him about your intimacy issues and the man had left you high and dry. A frown settles on your face and you almost feel hurt by his sudden change in behavior. Perhaps you shouldn’t have expected more from the leader of Onychinus. 

There’s a tapping noise against the glass of the window. Mephisto lets out another little caw , his wings fluttering for a bit as though waving goodbye. You lift your own hand, giving him a wave and watch as he flies out into the night. Just like that, you were all alone again.

You sigh, crawling back into bed with a pout on your face. The blankets are tugged up over your body, eyes slipping shut as you try to fall asleep. It doesn’t come easily, your efforts upended when your phone lights up.

Tapping across the screen, the messages between you and Sylus pop up. He’s sent you a video. 

Deciding to press play, your throat dries when you see what he’s sent you. His thighs are spread slightly, belt undone as he palms himself through his trousers. You nearly whimper at the sight, moving the phone closer to your face. The bulge of his cock is clear, making his trousers look uncomfortably tight.

You understand why he ended the call so quickly now. Sylus was trying to help alleviate the frustration caused by your little problem. You can hear Sylus let out a low groan and you’re biting your lip, letting your thighs squeeze together.

He palms himself a few more times before he’s dragging down the zip of his trousers. His chair creaks as he lifts his hips and you’re letting out a whimper into the air when you see his hard length in his boxers.

“I’ve been thinking about you,” he murmurs, palming himself a little more before he’s pulling down his boxers as well.

Arousal is pooling between your thighs and your pussy begins to ache. Drool collects in your mouth at the sight of his uncovered cock. It’s just as thick as you remember, his tip just as dark from that night. 

Sylus lets out another groan, his hand wrapping around his cock. You can’t wait any longer, your hand shoving itself back down into your shorts. The stickiness of your arousal is welcome, and you’re letting out a whine, fingers circling your clit.

You can see him squeeze as his knuckles tighten before his hand is dragging up and down, stroking his cock at a lazy pace. His breaths are heavy and he’s shifting again, his thighs spreading a little more as he gets comfortable.

“Work has been terribly stressful,” Sylus says, his wrist rotating as he jerks himself off, “I imagine you’d need the relief too. My fat cock in your mouth, you could just keep it on your tongue, get lost in the haze. Would you like that, sweetie?”

You’re nodding at the phone even though he can’t see you. Your fingers are rubbing at your clit desperately, whining into your pillows as he strokes himself for you.

Sylus lets out a low grunt, his hand moving faster. It’s an enthralling watch. His pretty fingers wrapped around himself, the tufts of white hair at the base of his cock and the little telltale twitches of his thighs. 

“Such a shame you aren’t here,” he sighs and your noises are growing more frequent, feeling the ache in your cunt fade as pleasure builds, “I could’ve taken you here on my desk, given you some of those kisses that you so desperately crave.”

Your body is flushed, sweat beginning to cover your skin as your hips roll, grinding your pussy against your fingers.

“Ah fuck ,” he whispers, squeezing around his cock a little tighter. Pre-cum has begun to drip from his cock steadily and you want to somehow teleport through the screen so you can lick it up for him, feel the taste of him on your tongue. 

You rub faster, moaning when he zooms in so you can see the fat tip of his cock wet with his cum.

He grunts, his hand twisting around his length. You can see his thighs twitch a little more and your own orgasm is building like never before.

“Come with me, baby” he encourages, his cock twitching in his grasp.

There’s a moan of his name and you’re coming on your fingers, thighs twitching uncontrollably as your orgasm hits. It’s a struggle to keep your eyes open, a mewl leaving your lips when his cock jerks, thick cum spurting out of his tip. He sighs, letting go of his cock, allowing it to slap against his abdomen, cum smearing across his skin. 

You can hear his deep laugh and he’s moving the camera so you can get a better look at his spent cock.

“Sleep well, Miss Hunter.”

The video ends. You’re panting softly, staring up at the ceiling. You can hardly believe he’d done that.

Deciding to give him a little gift of your own, the bedside lamp flicks on and you're squirming out of your shorts, moving your camera between your thighs so you can snap a picture of the aftermath. The image is a bit blurry, but you’re too tired, sending it off to him anyways. It seems an orgasm was what you needed, your eyes drooping shut as you sink into a slumber.

A few hours pass and you’re stifling hot. You don’t remember your blankets wrapping around you so tightly or your face pressing into a hard pillow. Still under the spell of sleep, you squirm around, letting out a sleepy grumble. It’s so hot .

When the heat doesn’t cease, your brows are pulling together, bleary eyes making your vision fuzzy. It’s still dark outside from what you can tell. You try to move, but something is keeping you in place. Your skin prickles, breath coming out in short little gasps. A scream tears out of your throat when you see a man’s figure on your bed. There’s a bit of flailing and your leg is kicking out, landing a blow to the man’s stomach. You kick him again and he’s letting out a pained grunt, falling off your bed with a loud thump . Scrabbling for your gun, your finger hooks around the trigger, aiming it at the man as he stands up.

There’s no time to shoot, red and black vines swirling across your arms and jerking your gun away from you.

Oh.

You rub at your eyes a little more to see Sylus standing there, sweatpants hanging low on his hips. 

He examines your gun, shaking his head when he realizes it’s not even loaded.

“Your reaction time is poor,” he says, tossing your gun onto the bedside table.

“What- what are you even doing here?” you demand, crossing your arms over your chest.

“I thought it was obvious,” Sylus replies, laying back down on your bed. 

He stares back at you, smirking when you don’t come to lay down with him. He uses his Evol, the tendrils lifting you in the air and laying you down gently.

You feel his arms wrapping around you, tugging you back into the warmth of his chest.

“You enjoyed my little show,” he whispers, his fingers running through your hair absentmindedly.

“I did,” you admit, peering up at him.

He stares back at you, his hand coming to cup your cheek. You feel his thumb smoothing over your skin and the action is so soothing that it has your eyes fluttering shut. 

“I never said you could break into my apartment though,” you say.

“Such a minor detail,” he sighs, a smile on his face, “you ought to be more grateful that I’m here. I am a busy man after all.”

“Too busy,” you mutter under your breath.

“Oh? How telling, darling” he grins at you devilishly. 

You shoot him an unimpressed look, turning so that your back is to him.

“If I had known you were going to be so difficult, I would’ve brought you something,” he says, his hand squeezing your hip. 

You don’t respond. He’s letting out another sigh, his Evol activating as he turns you back towards him.

“Must you always be so stubborn?” he whispers.

You get lost in his eyes and his hand cups your cheek again as he lowers his head towards yours.

“I’ve missed you,” he confesses, his lips brushing over yours. 

Your cheeks flush. You weren’t exactly expecting him to confess that he had been missing you. It appeared as though you were both entering dangerous territory. Festering feelings only led to a convoluted mind. 

There’s a smirk on his face and you can feel him plant a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“Aren’t you going to return my affection?” he asks, his nose nudging against yours, “I’ve been generous, haven’t I?”

You’re too stubborn to respond and he huffs out a laugh, eyes glimmering with mirth.

“Very well,” Sylus says, “I suppose I’ll just have to fuck it out of you.”

His lips are on yours in an instant. This kiss isn’t rushed like when you had first kissed, languid instead of rough. The soft sounds of your lips smacking together fills the room and Sylus can’t keep his hands off of you, his palms smoothing over your waist and hips, squeezing at the fat he can grab.

Sylus is pulling away, sitting up so his back is against the headboard of your bed. He offers you his hand and you take it, letting him pull you towards him. You settle onto his lap, straddling him, thighs on either side of his hips. He’s kissing you again and it’s you that’s cupping his cheek, guiding him. 

He groans into your mouth and you whine back, arms looping around his neck. There’s spit leaking out from the sides of your mouths with how passionate the kisses have become. Sylus licks into your mouth, his tongue grazing yours. Your hips are beginning to rock, gasping into his mouth when you feel his hardness between your thighs. The fact that you have this much of an effect has you smiling against his lips.

“Something funny?” he asks, peering down at you.

You shake your head, your thumb swiping over his lips gently, “I just didn’t expect you to be so… affected by me.”

“Perhaps you aren’t aware of your own allure then,” he says, head dipping down to kiss you again.

You turn your head however, and his lips end up landing against your cheek. He tries to kiss you again and you deny him, sucking in a deep breath to gather your wavering confidence.

“I want you in my mouth,” you whisper, staring up into his eyes.

There’s a smirk spreading across his face at your admission.

“Don’t laugh!” you whine, smacking his chest.

“It appears I may be a bad influence,” he says, his thumb stroking over your jaw, “or perhaps I am yet to discover the depths of your depravity.”

He’s leaning forward, grip tightening on your chin to give you a kiss that you can’t escape.

“Go on then,” Sylus says, letting go of you.

You move off of his lap, settling between his spread thighs. Your hungry eyes take in the bulge under the fabric of his sweatpants, a small smile spreading across your face.

Leaning forward, you press a kiss to his clothed cock. It twitches under your lips and you hum softly, fingers pulling down his sweatpants to free his cock.

You let out a sigh when his cock springs out, your hand reaching for it greedily. The throb of his cock is hard to ignore, and you’re sneaking a glance up at Sylus.

He’s staring at you, his eyes dark. You can feel his fingers spread across your scalp, threading into your hair. It has you leaning forward, your eyes on his as you kiss the tip of his fat cock gently.

Sylus shudders, biting his lip. You frown when he doesn’t make any noises. Renewing your efforts, your hand squeezes a little tighter, eyes catching on the way pre-cum gathers at the tip.

It has your mouth opening eagerly, tongue lapping up his arousal. The taste only has you addicted, mouth enveloping the head of his cock.

Sylus groans, his hand tightening in your hair.

“I think you have missed me,” he says through gritted teeth.

You shake your head, eyes fluttering shut as you sink your mouth down on him further. His cock is so thick your mouth has already stretched out, struggling to keep your teeth from grazing against his sensitive skin. 

“Keep going, baby” he murmurs, his hand guiding your movements. You can’t fit him into your mouth, not entirely, so it has your hand stroking around the length you can’t reach.

Sylus begins to guide your head, letting your mouth slide up and down his cock as you swirl your tongue. His head is falling back, and you whine when you see the bob of his adam’s apple.

Your mouth suckles harder against the blushed head of his cock, more pre-cum filling your mouth. You swallow it down eagerly, making a soft noise at the taste. Pulling off, you press some more sticky kisses against the tip of his cock and you smile when Sylus nearly whines. 

His cheeks are pink when you look up at him, his pupils dilated with lust. 

“I don’t take kindly to teasing,” he says hoarsely, his hand brushing yours away as he grasps the base of his cock. 

You pout up at him, annoyed that he had removed your hand. Even you don’t know the depths of your own lascivious nature as your head dips lower, mouth latching onto his fat balls.

You bite back a laugh when he grunts, your mouth opening as you suck one of them into your mouth. It feels so good and you’re moaning around it, pussy beginning to ache with want. Sylus strokes himself and you keep your eyes on his, tilting your head as you try and fit both of his balls into your mouth.

“How unbecoming of a Hunter,” he hisses, brows drawing in together as his gaze hardens, “do they know how filthy you are? Sucking my balls into your mouth like a whore .”

You whine, sucking harder around his balls. The taste of his skin has your head swimming, eyes slipping shut. It’s almost relieving, your mind taking solace at the fact that you don’t have to be in control. 

Pain stings across your scalp as Sylus tugs on your hair, pulling your head up. Almost immediately, your tongue is lolling out and he moans, smacking his cock against the pinkness of your tongue. 

“Fuck,” he whispers, “you look beautiful like this.”

You smile, ignoring the uncomfortable ache in your stomach at his compliment, mouth wrapping around his cock again.

“Take it, baby” he continues, his hand pushing your head down slowly. He’s entirely too big, your eyes beginning to water with how far down your throat he is. 

You do your best, head bobbing until your nails are scratching down his thighs, leaving red welts as he pushes your head down fully, your nose hitting the tufts of hair at the base of his cock.

He pulls you up soon after, cooing at your watery eyes as you cough. 

“You’re too big,” you murmur, opting to place soft kisses along his length.

He hums, hand cupping your jaw.

“I could always train you.”

The utterance of such words has your breath hitching and he’s grinning at you, his head lowering as he kisses you sloppily. 

Sylus tugs you up, pulling you back onto his lap.

“Are you sure you didn’t miss me?” he asks, thumbs brushing away the tears that had wet your cheeks when you were swallowing around him.

You nod. His tone has you questioning your relationship with him however. There’s always a sense of softness underlying his actions, as though Sylus sees you for something more . 

He’s making a mess of your feelings, pulling you apart piece by piece and putting you back together the way he wants, pieces of his tenderness embedded within you, much like the Aether Core.

“A shame,” he murmurs, his eyes boring into yours.

You know he can see through your little facade. It’s why the next kiss he gives you is the most tender one yet. His lips work against yours gently, his hands cradling your head. There’s an unspoken promise held within it.

But there isn’t time to dwell on the feelings that are blooming in your heart. Time is sparse in a world like yours and you don’t know when you’ll see him again.

Sylus pats your hip and you’re squirming around, letting him pull off your shirt and shorts. He sighs when he sees your breasts, thumbs brushing the underside of them before he’s reaching for your nipples.

You whimper, head tipping back as he gropes at the fat of your tits. To distract yourself, your hand is slipping between the two of you, hand finding his hard cock. It wraps around him and you begin to stroke the throbbing length. 

Sylus lets out a low groan at the feeling of your soft hand caressing him. His eyes flutter shut as he sucks your nipple into your mouth. You gasp when he bites down gently, feeling the catch of his teeth on your sensitive skin. 

He pulls off of your breast with a pop , and you can hardly bare it anymore, pushing at his shoulders to rise up. Sylus watches with lust-lidded eyes as you grasp his cock, pressing it against where you need him most. He grips your hips, sending you a lazy grin.

“I must say I do enjoy having you on top of me,” he murmurs, his thumb finding your clit. 

You whimper, heat coursing through you as he rubs the little bud, his hand guiding you to sink down on him. You don’t think you could ever get used to the stretch of his cock, the way he sits snug inside of you, as though you were made for each other.

“ Fuck ,” you whimper, hands pressing against his chest, “you- you’re so big .”

“So you’ve said,” Sylus smiles, his hand squeezing your ass, “now indulge me. ”

You nod, hips rolling against his lap. He reaches for your hands, fingers lacing together, a feeling you had dearly missed. Peering up into his eyes, you squeeze his hands, a serene smile spreading across your face as your hips rise and fall. 

Sylus groans at the feeling of your skin slapping against his thighs with every bounce on his lap. The tip of his cock hits the sensitive spot deep inside of your cunt so deliciously that you’ve begun to drool, a cockdrunk giggle slipping out of you as you ride him.

The giggle morphs into a moan when he spanks your ass, your body jolting forward. Sylus’s touches have grown rougher, his hands squeezing almost painfully at your flesh.

“Tell me you miss me,” he hisses and you squeak when you feel him grip your hips, using you like a doll for pleasure when he plants his feet flat against your bed, his hips thrusting up so he can bury his cock in your hot pussy. 

“I don’t,” you hiccup, hands gripping his shoulders as you try to keep up with the roughness of his movements.

Sylus growls and you feel like shrinking away when you see the glare on his face. He almost seems… desperate. You both understand what’s unfolding in this very moment. Desperation, validation, affection. He seeks it from you as though he were a tempest. 

His hand shoots out, gripping your cheeks. You can feel your lips jut out into a pout and he’s leaning forward kissing you messily. You whine, pressing yourself closer, tits squishing against his firm chest. His hips have never slowed, and you’re gasping into his mouth, hands slipping into his hair as he bounces you on his cock.

“Did it ever cross your mind that we may be bound to one another?” Sylus says, his words spoken against your lips.

“Bound?” you pant, your arm wrapping around his neck to support yourself as the burn in your thighs grows more intense.

“Bound,” he affirms, “the Aether Core. It ties me to you in a way that I cannot be tied to another. Perhaps-” he grunts when you slump against him, your hips swaying back to meet his thrusts so that your cunt can swallow his cock, “ perhaps you are my other half .”

The idea he’s proposing sounds absurd. It’s no less than implying the two of you are meant to be together. 

“Don’t- don’t be stupid, Sylus,” you say, feeling his lips leave stinging kisses across your sternum before finding your breast against, his mouth enveloping the mound. 

He nips the side of your breast in retaliation. 

“I am not stupid,” he murmurs, his tongue flicking against your nipple.

“You are ,” you protest, thighs squeezing tighter around his hips when his hand slips between your bodies, thumb rubbing against your clit again.

“I am not ,” he affirms, his forehead nudging against yours so he can stare deep into your eyes.

“I can see it,” Sylus says softly, his nose nuzzling yours, “I can see it in your eyes. The want, the longing . You have missed me.”

You open your mouth to protest but he’s drowning your voice out with a kiss. He swallows every word that threatens to come out, his cock driving deeper and deeper until you’re crying out.

“I missed you!” 

He lets out a laugh and you tuck your face into the crook of his neck, hiding your embarrassed expression. 

“No need to be so shy,” he whispers, “I may revel in the fact that you’ve missed me, but you’re forgetting about my own feelings.”

He grasps your hips, his pace slowing slightly, until you can feel his entire length press inside of you.

“No one else will ever feel this,” he whispers, strong arms wrapping around your waist, “no one else will ever be balls deep in this pretty, little cunt.”

You sink your teeth into his shoulder, moaning. 

“That’s it,” he coos, and the drag of his cock is too hard to ignore, your walls clenching around him tightly as though not wanting to let him go.

“ My pretty pussy,” he whispers against your ear “ my pretty, little Hunter. No one will ever have you.”

His possession has you shuddering, face pressing against his neck as you come around him. Sylus grits his teeth, the squelch of your cunt growing louder as your slick drips down his length, coating his balls.

“I only want you,” you whisper, cupping his cheek so you can kiss along his jaw, “I only want you so- so come for me .”

Sylus doesn’t think he’s ever heard you sound so sweet. The lilt of your words, the softness of your voice. It has him groaning loudly, his hands pulling you down, making sure your pussy is flush against the base of his cock as he comes.

You can feel the warmth of his cum, the way his sticky release covers the insides of your pussy. Your lips find his and you kiss him slowly, sweetly as though confessing your own heart’s desire.

He rubs his hands against your back soon after, your head falling against his shoulder. His cock softens inside of you and wetness between your thighs is almost uncomfortable. 

Sylus lays you down and you whimper when his cock slips out of you. He grins at the sight of your trembling thighs, his lithe fingers spreading your folds to find the mess of both your releases leaking out of you. 

“A vision,” he murmurs, his fingers rubbing against your clit gently and you try to push his hand away, whimpering when the overstimulation has your entire body jolting. 

He ignores you, his other hand clasping yours as he caresses your pussy, playing with your folds before he’s lowering his head, placing soft kisses against your mound. Sylus licks up a long stripe, collecting both of your cum on his tongue before he’s pressing his lips against yours, feeding you the mix of essences.

You moan at the taste, squeezing his hand as you suck on his tongue sloppily. He smiles against your lips, pecking them gently before he’s drawing back.

Your body is utterly spent, eyes slipping shut. You can feel Sylus moving, feeling his lips against your cheek as he peppers fleeting kisses across your face while a warm cloth swipes between your sore thighs. 

Sylus tugs you into his chest and you press yourself closer, face burying itself into his chest. 

“I missed you,” you repeat, quieter this time. 

He hums, his hand stroking your hair soothingly as you both unwind.

“I know,” Sylus murmurs, tilting your head so he can press a kiss to your forehead.

You feel your heart swell at the affection and it has you peering up into his eyes. 

“Have I surprised you?” he asks, a smirk settling on his face.

“You always surprise me,” you breathe out, trying to meld your body against his.

He grins, arm slinging around your waist comfortably. 

“Will you stay?” you ask after a few moments, brushing his hair out of his eyes.

You watch as his eyes shut and it’s you that’s petting his hair this time, playing with the soft strands as he contemplates your question.

“For a few days,” he whispers, his hand finding yours.

Sylus intertwines his fingers with yours, bringing your hand closer to his mouth as he places reverent kisses across your knuckles.

It’s enough for now, you think, when he looks into your eyes. 

It’s enough for now because Sylus will always find his way back to you. 

Across the vast expanse of deep space, you will always be his.

[arcielee]

ilībio

Summary: Aemond finds comfort in your cunt. Paring: Aemond Targaryen x female!reader Word Count: 2.6+ Warnings: reader AFAB, dubcon elements?, oral (m receiving), vaginal fingering, rough sex as a coping mechanism, p in v unprotected, a hint of possessive Aemond as a treat Author’s Note: Thank you my beloved beta reader @sylasthegrim 💜 This story was partly inspired by the brilliance of @peachysunrize (my muse 💜) and @adragonprinceswhore and their wonderful pieces they shared on this hellsite, but it was also inspired by this bitch ass anon. This man is beautiful and I would do anything to be a hole at his disposal. Enjoy! Valyrian translations: ilībio is whore, Iksā ñuhon is you are mine 😈

The instructions from the madame were clear: you were not to speak to the prince and you most certainly were not to look him in the eye. 

It was hard to follow her explicit instructions, as he was as beautiful as he was captivating. You recalled the night when you first saw Prince Aemond. He was poised at the entrance, pulling back his hood to reveal the silver spill of his hair that showed gold in the amber light basking the brothel, his brow furrowed as he looked over the room before taking a step. He was tall and lithe with a grace that cut through the crowd, not sparing a glance at the patrons or whores that parted to allow him through. 

You remembered hearing the stories of the old gods of Old Valyria and thought that he was truly the embodiment from those legends, that he glowed from the ichor knitted into his veins. 

He paused to look at you, and you felt your heart begin to gnaw at your ribs, your pulse erratic as you burned under his one-eyed scrutiny. Your head was in a fog, unable to understand his question. “Your grace,” you chose to say with a curtsy that was clumsy and unpractised. 

He did not care for the attempt or for your formality, but instead repeated his question. “Where is she?” 

You escorted him to Sylvi as requested, and the madame was quick to capitalize on her honored guest, excusing you at once. You continued to watch him from the shadows, entranced, lost in the daydream of being whisked away with the favoritism of a Targaryen prince. 

When he finally left, she caught your gaze that followed him. Her law was laid, he was hers alone, and your envy was hot and thick in your blood, but you were nothing but another whore to serve, awaiting at her beck and call. 

It was her constant threat of being cast out to Flea Bottom that kept you obedient. She wished you to be a decorative piece, dressed in sheer gowns chosen to complement your figure, and tasked to carry a carafe that would keep the cups filled. You did what you were told; you moved throughout, your fingers curled around the neck and the other hand supporting the bottom, careful not to spill a drop. 

Your second run in with Prince Aemond was nearly your undoing. 

You did not even see him, as your trained demure gaze left you counting your footsteps, and despite how lean the prince looked, he felt solid enough when you stumbled into him. Your hands cramped to hold the bottle upright, your senses flooded with the scent of the leather he had been wearing earlier, mixed with the sheen of perspiration and the bathing oils you surely would never afford.

You were rooted to the cobblestone with the realization that he was bare. 

He seemed to tower over you, and the dragonfire that burned bright showed in the lavender of his eye, glittering in the sapphire of the other. You were mortified and he frowned in return, his silver brow furrowed as he looked you over.

You stared back at him, your embarrassment fading, and perhaps it was your unabashed awe that caught his attention–but whatever it was, he would not tell you.

Prince Aemond reached out to grip your jaw, dimpling into your cheeks. You could feel the warmth from his fingertip trickle down your spine and pool into your core; your thighs clenched for relief, your heart screaming to be consumed.

He tilted his head, his eye boring through as if he could see what you desired, though it was painted plainly on your face. He smirked. “One whore is as good as another,” he spoke out loud, and you felt your heart expanding, pumping your blood and encouraging your steps to follow after him. 

The prince glided to a stop in front of an enclave that was draped in silk and lace. The whore and her patrons inside recognized him at once, scattering like rats into the shadows and leaving you alone with the dragon prince. 

Your hands were still shaking as you set the carafe on top of a table, wiping your palms on your skirts. You turned to face the prince and saw his posture was proud, his muscles tensing as his hands balled into fists at his sides; his eye was ever-watchful of you. 

Your lips parted with a soft exhale to soothe your nerves, to settle the pounding in your chest. You took a slow step towards him, your fingers wishing to reach and touch the marble he had been crafted from, but instead you untied the dress that was wrapped around your waist. The fabric pooled at your feet and you were just as bare, your blood seering to the surface when you saw his cock twitch, a lust that began to cloud his eye. 

It was exhilarating to entice a god. 

Your eyes widened with your own admiration as you took him in, a trepidation that fluttered throughout when he did not reach for you right away. Another exhale and you moved closer to kneel before him, your head tilting up to look at him. 

His jaw ticked, a curiosity flickering, waiting for your next move. 

You swallowed your hesitation and your eyes washed over him with reverence, falling to the lines that cut into his slim hips and trailing in-between. Your touch was gentle to wrap your fingers around his hardening cock, moving it aside to press a wet kiss on the curve of the base. You rested back on your heels and looked up again, licking your lips. 

The prince had you rooted with his heady gaze, a rose dusting to his features. His hand touched the top of your head, returning your attention back to how hot and heavy he now was against the palm of your hand. 

It thrilled you. Your tongue flattened to follow along the side, tracing every ridge and vein of his impressive length. The tip was flushed and you pressed another kiss, licking away the briny taste from your lips before wrapping them around to savor the dragon thrumming in your hand. 

He gave a low groan, tensing with how your mouth moved to engulf him. His hand curled into the back of your scalp with a hold that made your skin prickle; your hand grabbed his hip to anchor your endeavor, moving up and down until he was slick from your spit, your desperation to try and swallow every inch of him. 

You gagged, pulling back to lick your other hand and wrap it around what could not fit, matching your pace. He now held onto you with both of his hands, his fingers knotting into your hair with a hold that brought tears to your eyes, but you would not stop–the taste of royalty igniting in your blood vessels. You were spurred on with the sounds that spilled from his lips, and he bucked into your mouth, bruising your throat. 

Only then did you let go, gasping for air. “Forgive me–”

He did not let you finish. He reached to wrap his hand around your upper arm and he pulled you to stand. “Get on the bed.” His voice was low and lethal, velvet that wrapped around to control you. 

You scrambled on top with a visceral shiver from that anticipation already curling at the base of your spine. You looked up at Prince Aemond and it beckoned him closer with a heavy sway between his slender thighs. “My prince, you will not fit,” you realized, “I must–I need to prepare myself…” 

He loomed over you, balancing one arm on the edge of the mattress while the other reached to stop your hand. “Allow me,” he murmured, bringing his first two fingers to his tongue before dipping to slip them between your silken folds. 

It mixed with your arousal, jolting through you as his fingers curled into you. The stretch burned for a moment, but his touch was tactful, pressing upwards until colors began to dance in front of your eyes, soft sighs spilling.

You whined when his hand pulled away, wiping your slick onto his cock. He pushed forward until you melted back onto the bed. Your legs spread to invite him to the cradle of your hips, and he paused to look at you, a softer expression worn as his eye dropped to your lips. 

Your pulse quickened with your hope for a kiss. 

But instead, his hand dipped to guide his length. You felt a shiver of delight from the glide of his swollen cockhead up and down your slit, gathering the wetness that pooled. You ached for more, willing, wanting, canting your hips to angle yourself in a way for him to sink into you.

The prince took his time and you back arched, gooseflesh rippling over from the intimate pressure, from his intoxicating scent and the softness of his hair tickling your skin, from the heat that seemed to permeate from him. He pushed into you further and it was a fullness you had never experienced before; your walls clenched with the slow rut of his hips, deeper and deeper, until he fully sheathed himself within your warm cunt. 

The prince melted into you, molding to your body. His head tucked into the curve of your neck, his teeth nipping at your pulse to muffle his low groan that rumbled through you.

Your lips pressed to his collarbone, a muted mewl in response. Your vision spun and your legs lifted to wrap around his slender waist, pulling him closer. Your hands followed up the definition of his arms to his shoulders, nails biting to hold onto him; you licked his skin. 

He pushed back with a shudder, eye blown and red blotches staining his alabaster skin. A slow roll of his hips went even deeper and you moaned at the sensation. This pleased the prince, and his lips touched the soft spot under your ear, your nipples pebbling when you felt his smile, his rasped command on your skin: “Let them hear you.” 

The madame taught all the girls how to feign pleasure. There was an art of kohl and hooded eyes, of girlish whimpers and whines to encourage patrons to completion. 

But it was unneeded with how the prince was splitting you in half with his cock.

His palms pressed to hold you against the slow snap of his hips, fucking you into the bed until you were teetering on the precipice of both pleasure and pain. Tears pearled at the corners of your eyes and spilled with his brutal pace. He does not see them, his sharp chin tucked to his chest, mesmerized by the white ring forming around the base of his cock that glides in-and-out of you.

It sparked a kaleidoscope of colors with each thrust and you clenched again. “Gods,” he hissed, “you were made for me.” 

His praise was muted, your mind so lost in the haze of passion building, in the wet suction of your cunt desperate to pull him back into you. Your slick spilled in-between your thighs, your fingers fluttering to his hips to pull him even closer– 

But Prince Aemond pulled away. 

You could not stop your whine, pressing to your elbows to watch him. He cupped your chin, not  rough like before, but enough to tilt your head back and truly look at you. The severity of his features softened, the natural curl to his pink lips ticking upwards and hinting at a smile. “I want you to turn around and get on all fours.”

Your stomach dropped at the thought of him claiming his pleasure in a more… unnatural means, remembering the horror stories that the girls shared. You burned as you moved, just as he wished–for how could you deny a prince? You faced away, your arse up. 

His palms were warm when they touched your hips, sliding back to spread your cheeks to see how you glistened for him. There was another noise of content as he shifted behind you, another trill of pleasure up your spine when you felt his cock pressing into your cunt again. 

This new angle was tight, and your hands knotted into the linen of the bed to brace yourself. The prince does not force himself on you, but takes his time to fit; he leaned over you, his lips touching the curve of your spine and his large hand reaching around to palm your breast, pinching your nipple between his finger and thumb.

You crumbled, another muffled cry into the bed, your nerves aflame. His hand followed to the nape of your neck, a firm hold to pull you back up. “Let them hear you,” his repeated rasp was hot against your skin. 

His hands bruised into your hips, sinking into you until the tops of his thighs were flushed against your arse. You were shaking, your back arching to feel him pressing even further than before. He hummed and slammed into you with a pace that builds.

It returned you to that pleasure you tasted earlier when his fingers curled within you, something anew. It was a warm sensation that prickled over your skin, igniting with his thrusts. Your hips rocked back to meet with his unrelenting rhythm as he crashed against you, again and again, until you shattered, splintering off and lifting above, a thousand butterfly wings fluttering throughout you. 

Your cries pulled him after, your cunt grasping for his release. It was quieter for him; the prince hunched over you, his damp brow pressing to your spine with another guttural groan as he pulsed hot and deep into you. 

You fell into the mattress, breathless and drunk from the pleasure pulled. Your mind was tittering how you should fetch a cloth to clean the prince, to pour a fresh goblet to wet his throat, but your body refused. 

At best, you muscled enough strength to turn your neck and look at his sharp angles as he laid on his side, taking in the vision he commanded: the rose tones that touched him intimately, the freckles sprinkled on his shoulders, the lavender color that returned to his one eye. 

Princely, you thought. “Beautiful,” you murmured.

His jaw ticked and for a moment, you swore he flushed from what you said. He touched a finger to your hip, following your curves and coming up to press into your chin to hold your attention–as if you would dare to look away. 

“I will be back for you tomorrow,” he decided.

Your practiced stoicism masked your elation. “She will not like that, my prince,” you reminded him, thinking of the venom that poured when Sylvi glared at you. She made sure to mention him like a trophy she possessed, her face perpetually smug with her every mention of him. 

A smirk played on his lips. He pulled you into his chest and you felt his spend spilling in-between your thighs. You did not care but melted into his warmth, your arm wrapping around his waist, pressing your face to his chest and feeling the low hum of his heart. 

“She will be of no concern,” he spoke like a man who acted without any fear of consequences, but you supposed that this was the tone of all royalty. He pressed a kiss to your hairline and it jolted through your chest. “Iksā ñuhon.”

You curled against him, too dazed to comprehend the weight of his words that rolled from his lips–the tongue of Old Valyria. They meant nothing to you as you laid in the arms of a god.

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[ayyponine]

weird to say but. my previous weekend was also kinda perfect