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hollybell51 · 2 years ago

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Castiel x AFAB!fem!Reader

Supernatural (2005)

Word count: 9.6K (I'm shocked too dw)

Summary: I have no idea how to describe this I'm so sorry it's just smut. There's also some morning-after shenanigans. Believe me if I could I would but thinking of a title was hard enough.

Content: Just... pretty much 9.6K words of shameless Cas smut because I love him. Only one bed, porn with a plot, friends to lovers (sort of), little bit of hurt/comfort and first aid (?), Cas is a bit of warning honestly. Smut: Cas is a virgin, first kiss, making out, hickeys, blowjob, handjob, vaginal sex, unprotected sex (yikes), fingering, very very light dirty talk, very loving very gentle sex, sharing a bed. Dean is a bit of an oblivious idiot, Sam is less oblivious.

Notes: I wrote this while trying to fall asleep at my friend's house and didn't proof read. I've also only known Cas for six episodes (almost seven), so most of the characterisation for him is based of gifsets, incorrect quotes, and other fanfics (so is the lore/plot because I'm not that far into the series yet but I was impatient so just ignore any mistakes or plot inconsistencies if you find them, although I did try). Hence it's probably bad. But oh well, this wouldn't leave my brain until I wrote it and like I said I'm impatient and also I'm a little bit proud of the smut alone and he's fucking hot I mean come on. Dean Winchester is a better man than me because god damn I would've jumped his bones the second he looked at me and I have no idea how he didn't. Be nice.

Cas was watching you. Again. It wasn’t like you minded, but something about his cool eyes following your movements from across the booth made butterflies swirl in your stomach. You were acutely aware of every single bubble in your glass of lemonade, every clink of the ice cubes, every slurpy noise it made through the straw you were sucking on. You probably looked a bit stupid, hunched over your drink and the plate that had contained your burger, the huge shirt you’d borrowed from Sam while the one you’d packed for yourself dried rolled up to your elbows, hanging off your shoulders way too much to ever be considered cute. Not that you wanted to look cute, and not that it mattered, but…

“There’s a pharmacy down the street,” Sam was saying. “They’d probably have more of that antiseptic, right?”

There was a pause in which you snuck a glance at Cas. His gaze was fixed on the bubbles clustering on your straw, mildly interested as they formed and floated away, formed and floated, again and again in an endless cycle. You’d never found bubbles so fascinating, but now that you looked – and you knew he was looking too – there’d never been anything so beautiful.

“(Y/N)?”

Right, yeah, antiseptic. The cut on your shoulder seemed to itch at the thought, prickling under the carefully applied dressing. You’d done it on a barbed wire fence that had barred the entry to a nest of vampires, and a day later Sam was still worried it would get infected. It wasn’t exactly a clean cut – the fence had been filthy, and your assurance that yes, you were up to date with tetanus shots had stopped him driving you to a hospital. You appreciated the concern, but really, you were sure it would be fine.

“Mhm,” you answered, leaning back in your seat. “D’you think it’ll still be open?”

Beside you, Dean frowned, looking around for a clock. “It’s not that late, right?”

“There’s an open sign in the window.” All eyes swung to Cas, who shrugged, pointing. “It’s lit up,” he added.

“Oh, right,” you said faintly. “Thanks Cas.”

He smiled, a tiny twitch of his lips that had no right to make your heart speed up as much as it did. “That’s ok.”

You smiled back. Your face seemed determined to ignore your brain and grin like an idiot, and it was a damn struggle to keep it to a normal expression.

“Right,” Sam said, clearing his throat and bursting the little bubble you could have sworn you’d been stuck in. You would have liked to stay there, where it was just Cas smiling at you. But no, you were being silly.

“Right,” you echoed. There was a slightly awkward silence, in which you swirled your straw around idly, watching Cas watch the movement of ice cubes and bubbles. When you’d first met him, you hadn’t really believed he was an angel. He seemed so… ordinary. Shabby, even. But the longer you were around him, the surer you’d become that he was the real deal. Strange, not what you’d expected at all, but a real honest-to-goodness angel nonetheless. Even now that he was human, there was still definitely something otherworldly in Cas. Something that, despite the grime and rust of the lives all four of you lead, was almost pure, precious to you, and a little unnerving all at once.

“Do you want some?” you asked, gesturing to your drink.

Cas’s eyes snapped up, almost guiltily.

You smiled. “Lemonade.”

He nodded slowly.

“Here.” You pushed the glass across the table, leaning your chin on your hands and watching as he moved the straw around, then sipped it. You’d been having way too much fun plying him with new things to taste, since food now actually tasted like… food. As opposed to molecules. Apparently.

He wrinkled his nose, drawing back and staring at the glass. Then he leaned forward again and took another sip. There was something in his near-childlike wonder that made your heart ache, the appearance of innocence and naivety so profound that it was hard to remember he was – had been – a soldier. A divine soldier of God. Watching him made you want to reach across the table and just… Well, you didn’t know what it made you want to do. Grab him, maybe? It didn’t matter.

“Any good?” Dean asked, watching Cas mildly.

“It’s very sweet,” he reported. “And sticky.”

Despite yourself, you laughed.

Cas surveyed you, then gave another of those little smiles you’d come to treasure. He took another sip, his eyes never leaving your face.

You cleared your throat, suddenly hyper aware of exactly where you were and what you were supposed to be doing. Not staring at – “mooning over” Dean had teasingly called it not even three days ago, a thought that still plagued you – Cas, that was for sure. You slid out of the booth, since you were the one who needed the antiseptic and you were on the edge. “I’ll go across, meet you back at the hotel.”

“You sure?” Sam asked, watching as you dropped some money on the table. Enough to cover your burger and a small portion of the tip.

“I’ll be fine, don’t worry.” You turned towards Cas, shooting him a small smile. He looked a little confused, and you couldn’t deny the pang of guilt that tugged at your insides. “You can finish that off,” you told him, “if you want.”

“Thankyou,” he said after a moment.

“Yeah, sure.” You nodded to Sam and Dean, the former of whom was staring between you and Cas with a look of what could only be described as incredulity plastered across his face. You were going to ignore it, you decided. “Seeya later,” you said, and left.

You stood before the motel room, shopping bag in hand, staring at Sam’s text. Had he and Dean done this deliberately? Was this some kind of conspiracy between the two of them?

“Room 09,” the message read, “you’re sharing with Cas.” And then, shortly after; “Don’t worry, it’s a double.”

Well, you thought, at least you wouldn’t have to share a bed, and at least you wouldn’t have to deal with the guilt of Cas taking the couch – even though he insisted he didn’t mind, and refused to let you do it.

Just as you raised your hand to knock, the door swung open and there stood the former angel, still in his beige trench coat, tie and all. He hadn’t even taken his shoes off.

“Hi,” you said, slightly breathless. There was something stupidly endearing about the way he just stood there, looking at you.

“Hi,” he repeated. “Do you want to come in?”

“Uh, yeah.” Awkwardly, you squeezed past him into the dully lit room, switching on the light with your elbow. Had he just been sitting in here by himself, in the dark? You hoped not, but at the same time, it was exactly the sort of thing you could imagine him doing.

You deposited your groceries – the antiseptic, a new packet of dressings, painkillers, and a twix you’d grabbed at the counter. You’d figured you could share it with whoever your roomie was, and now you were glad you’d had that foresight. You turned, surveyed the room, then did a double take. Surely not. There had to be something you were missing.

But no, on closer inspection, your eyes were not deceiving you. There was only one bed. A double bed, sure, but still only one bed.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” you muttered, already reaching for your phone.

“What’s wrong?” Cas asked, a concerned wrinkle appearing between his brows.

“Sam said this was a double,” you told him.

“It is.”

“Yeah, but there’s only one bed. I always feel bad kicking you to the couch.”

“I don’t mind. And besides,” he added, “you’ve never kicked me.”

“No it’s–” you broke off, catching his smile. “Yeah, alright”

The smile widened. He was a little too proud of himself for your liking.

You looked away, hoping to hide your own grin as you dialled Sam’s number. “You said it was a double,” you accused before he could even greet you.

“Yeah, hi to you too,” he snorted. “It is.”

“There’s only one bed, Sam. Does your room have only one bed?”

“No, we’ve got two singles.”

“Lucky you,” you practically spat. “Now I’m gonna have to live with the guilt of knowing Cas is on the couch.”

“So?” You could almost hear the frown in Sam’s voice. “He doesn’t mind.”

“I know, but–”

“Share the bed with him if it bothers you that much,” he cut you off. In the background, Dean was saying something. Sam shushed him. “I’m sure he’d be happy to.”

“What’s that supposed to–”

He interrupted you again, all too cheerful. “You’ll sort it out.”

You stared at the phone, “call ended” flashing up at you. “Fuck you, Sam,” you sighed.

By the door, Cas frowned. “Is something the matter?”

“No,” you sighed again, grabbing the dressings and antiseptic and taking a seat on the end of the singular bed. Through the gap in the curtains, the sky was darkening from the pale purple it had been at the diner to a deep indigo. “Just… Sam.”

Cas nodded solemnly, as if he knew exactly what you meant.

You tried not to pay too much attention to him as you unbuttoned Sam’s shirt, sliding it down off your shoulder to bare the current dressing. You’d had it on all that day and the night before, so you figured it was time to change it. Gently, you peeled back the adhesive, hissing as the air brushed over the cut. It wasn’t as bad as it had been, mostly scabbed over and less raw-looking than when you’d first applied the dressing, but it was still tender. It was awkward to reach too, running from your shoulder along your collarbone, stopping just shy of the centre of the sternum. Stupid, you’d cursed yourself when you’d done it, and you cursed yourself again now.

“Would you like some help?”

You looked up, meeting Cas’s eyes. Soundlessly, he’d crossed the room and was now standing directly in front of you.

He gestured to the cut. “It looks hard to reach.”

“Uh, yeah, it is.” You shifted over, making room for him beside you. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” He sank down beside you, his weight tilting you towards him. Your stomach lurched.

Determinedly dismissing it, you turned slightly to face him, one leg dangling off the side of the bed, the other folded under you. Almost immediately you wished you hadn’t done it, because now all you could see was him, bent over you, his face impassive and focused to a fault.

He took the antiseptic from you, gently dabbing it along the edges of the scab.

“Is that alright?” he asked when you gasped softly.

“Mhm,” you nodded. “Just… stings a little.”

Guilt flashed across his face. “Oh, I’m sorry.”

“No, no, it’s not you. You’re fine,” you assured him. “It’s the antiseptic, it’s normal.”

“Should I keep going?”

You nodded, your heart racing. His skin was cool where it brushed yours, the shitty lighting somehow playing tricks with the colours in his eyes, making them appear even more startlingly blue than usual. Those eyes were fixed on your cut, like it was the only thing that mattered in the world.

“I wish you’d taken me with you,” he said as he reached for a dressing pad.

“Hm?” You frowned, unsure what he meant. You’d gone alone, which wasn’t why you’d fumbled crossing the fence, but it certainly hadn’t helped. Sam and Dean had been after a demon in the next town over – it took precedence over vampires, you all knew that – and Cas had been with them. You’d been convinced you’d be alright to tackle such a small nest, it was only three, barely a nest at all, and had insisted on it. But still, you’d been a bit more wired than usual, and that was probably to blame for your bungled entrance. It didn’t matter now, you were fine. They were dead.

He shrugged, smoothing the dressing over your skin more gently than you’d ever thought possible. “On the hunt. I wish you’d taken me with you.”

“Nah,” you shook your head, trying to dispel the ache his action caused inside you. “You had other stuff on. You don’t need to be wasting time running after a nest of vampires, demons take priority.” You smiled. “You’ve got more to worry about than a silly little hunter who can’t jump fences.”

Cas looked up, that little wrinkle reappearing on his forehead. “That’s not true,” he said, “I’ll always have time for you. I’ll always worry about you.”

You froze, taken aback by the… intimacy of the words. You’d mentioned before that you liked when people just said what they meant (“Even if it hurts you?” he’d asked, frowning. You’d said that you’d rather that than be left searching for double meanings and hidden clues, and he’d seemed to find that acceptable.), and since then he’d indulged you in that regard. But this felt different, it felt more real than anything he’d ever said to you before. He’d always have time for you, he worried about you.

“Really?” you asked. “You mean that?”

He nodded, his eyes sincere where he held your gaze. There was something here, you knew, something tingling in the air between you. You’d half thought you were imagining things when you noticed him looking at you. You’d chalked it up to him being, well, Cas, and hadn’t allowed yourself to dwell too long on the glimmer of hope that it was more than that. And he’d been an angel for Pete’s sake; divine, untouchable, totally out of your reach. But here, now, with his hand resting where it had settled on your thigh and his face inches from yours, the dimness of the motel somehow illuminating every dancing fleck of colour in his eyes, every beautiful shadow and line on his – human – face, you weren’t ignoring it any longer.

His voice was barely above a whisper when he spoke. “You’re important to me, (Y/N).”

Oh. Oh. There it was.

He was still looking at you, but there was a hint of what you would have said was nervousness, maybe apprehension, mixed with the sincerity and lingering concern in his eyes. It was so… raw. You felt strangely vulnerable, while at the same time like you were seeing something you weren’t supposed to.

Involuntarily, your eyes flicked down to his lips, your breath hitching in your chest. Fuck it, you thought, then closed the few inches of space between you and pressed your lips to his.

He was completely motionless, and for a wild moment you were convinced you’d grossly misread something and had just made a massive mistake. Then it was like he was coming to life beneath you, pushing back against you, his lips parting under yours, his free hand finding its place cupping your cheek. His mouth was soft, impossibly soft. His tongue, when you brushed against it with your own, tasted like your lemonade.

It was near dead silent in the room, the ticking of the clock on the wall and the distant thrumming of traffic outside the only noises. Then, as you slid your hand up over his leg, fingers squeezing gently at his thigh, Cas made a sound.

It was halfway between a sigh and moan, tiny and restrained, and you could feel him hesitate in the kiss. This is new, it said. This is nice. You let your lips curve into the smile they’d been trying to, squeezing again. It’s alright, you told him with your hand, you’re alright.

You drew back momentarily, sucking a quick breath as Cas chased you, his hand on the back of your neck pulling you closer and closer and closer and closer and impossibly closer until your chest met his. Then you were shifting into his lap, swinging your leg over his and straddling his hips like it was the most natural thing in the world. And maybe it was. It sure felt like it.

“Cas,” you breathed, breaking away properly this time and raising your hands to cup his face. “Castiel.”

“Hm?”

You moved your thumb in a soft arc over his cheekbone, smiling as he closed his eyes and leaned into your touch. His lips found your hand, peppering your palm and wrist with featherlight kisses.

“Can I?” you asked, reluctantly freeing a hand to push at the trench coat he was still wearing.

He looked up, frowning. “What?”

“Take it off,” you whispered, then heat rose in your cheeks. “If you want to, of course. If you want this. You don’t have to.”

He shook his head, pulling back to shrug off the heavy piece of clothing. The blazer followed. He loosened his tie, then seemed to think for a moment before undoing it altogether. It was the first time you’d seen him without it, and he looked… different. Unguarded, almost. Then he was reaching up and unfastening the buttons of his shirt, torturously slowly. He paused, meeting your eyes.

“Is this alright?” he asked.

You smiled, nodding. You’d been staring, you realised, watching his deft fingers work at the material so intently that you hadn’t been thinking about what would show on your face. You took over, finishing off the last few fastenings and pushing the shirt back off his shoulders. You didn’t know what you’d expected his body to look like. You’d had the vague notion that it would be nice, that it would somehow match the rest of him, and you hadn’t been wrong, but now that he was in front of you that same disconcerting feeling of unearthliness haunted the back of your mind. This was Cas, Castiel, and that made it somehow hallowed – irony aside.

“Are you alright?” He was peering up at you, apprehensive.

You nodded. “Are you?”

He echoed your gesture, his fingers running along the collar of your own shirt. A question, a request, testing the waters.

Careful of your still-tender shoulder, you reached for the hem of your shirt and pulled it smoothly over your head, then undid your bra and cast it to the side. Cas’s eyes snapped to your chest, interest and a sort of hunger mixing on his face. Hesitantly, slowly, his hand inched up your waist to your ribs, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. He paused.

“It’s ok,” you breathed. When he still seemed wary, you reached down and took his hand in your own, guiding it to your breast and giving a gentle squeeze. His breath hitched, his tongue darting out between his lips.

“I’m…” he broke off, swallowing hard. He shifted, a hard bulge pressing against your thigh. You smiled.

“Hm?”

“I’m… I’m kind of…” He stopped again, floundering.

“It’s alright, Cas. You’re alright.”

He looked up, something close to nervousness dancing across his face. “I haven’t done this before,” he whispered. “I don’t know…”

Oh. Right. Why hadn’t you thought of that? It made sense, you supposed. Despite Dean’s best efforts, Cas hadn’t picked up the other guy’s… habits, at least not yet. You’d wondered about it briefly before coming to the conclusion that it had to be an angel thing, a choice on his behalf. You knew some people didn’t want that with just anyone, which you could understand. What you couldn’t understand was a world where nobody was interested in Cas, but then again, you might have been biassed.

You bit your lip. “Do you want to? It’s ok if you don’t.”

“I do,” he said, his hand still resting on your chest. “I really do, (Y/N). But I don’t know… what to do.”

“I’ll help you,” you assured him, affection blooming in your gut. And alongside it, an odd sort of pride. Cas was trusting you here, enough to admit he didn’t know what to do. It was more than any guy you’d ever been with had been willing to give away.

“We’ll go slow,” you continued. “You tell me what you like, what feels good. If you wanna stop, you say so, ok?”

He nodded.

You took his face in your hands again, running your fingers over the rough stubbled coating his jaw. “Can I touch you?”

“Please,” he murmured.

You trailed your hand down his neck, along his collar bone, over his chest. His skin was soft, smooth. It wasn’t scarred like Dean or Sam’s or your own, and suddenly you wondered if that was somehow a turn off for him. He’d been an angel, immortal, eternal, unblemished even now. If he hadn’t done this before, or even if he had with a normal human, he probably wouldn’t have encountered the kind of skin a hunter such as yourself possessed. Would it bother him?

Then his chest heaved under your hand, the flesh twitching as your touch crept lower, sideways, up again, mapping the expanse of his torso. He moaned softly as you pressed a gentle kiss to his temple, fingers splayed over his heart. Again, you swept down the centre of his body, all thoughts of your own imperfections dashed from your mind as you revelled in the little hums of pleasure you were coaxing from him.

Carefully, slowly, you inched lower. You passed his belly button, the light trail of hair that led down from it, finally encountering his belt buckle. You paused, tracing aimless patterns over the skin just above the waistline of his pants, pushing your fingers below the material after a moment.

“Is this alright?” you asked, watching his face. His eyes were closed, his lips slightly parted, cheeks flushed.

“Mhm,” he sighed. “Yes.”

You smiled. God, he was beautiful. “You wanna take ‘em off?”

At that, his eyes snapped open, the pupils so wide they almost obscured the blue of his irises. “My pants?” he asked.

You nodded. “You don’t have to, but…” You ran your hand lightly over the increasingly noticeable bulge you could feel. “I can touch you? Here.”

He stared. “Do you want to?”

You gave a little huff of laughter, nodding. “Only if you do. I can keep touching you other places if you want, I can kiss you…” You stopped as he deftly reached down and undid his belt, button and fly in one fluid motion, lifting his hips momentarily and kicking off his pants. It was very fast, impressively smooth. And underneath…

Your mouth watered at the sight. The outline of his cock straining against his underwear, a small wet patch already forming. You usually didn’t indulge the mantra of “bigger is better”, especially not when it came to penises, but there was no denying that your pussy was already aching at the thought of the stretch Cas’s would cause. Not that it was a behemoth, far from it, but he was certainly well endowed.

His voice snapped you from your reverie, jerking your gaze away from his dick and back to his face. “Is that…” he paused, searching your gaze anxiously. “Is it alright?”

Your heart melted. “Oh, Cas,” you sighed. “It’s perfect. You’re perfect. Just perfect.”

A sound that could only be described as whine slipped from his still kiss-bruised lips, sending a bolt of heat shooting down your spine to pool between your legs. Before the request had formed on your tongue, he shed his underwear too, leaving himself bare to you.

“Have you touched yourself?” you asked, jerking your gaze from his cock. Fuck, you’d never wanted to lay hands on a dick more in your life.

Cas looked away for a moment. “No,” he said. “Should I have?”

You shook your head. “It’s up to you. I’d like to, if you’re ok with it.”

“Touch me?”

“Mhm.”

He opened his mouth, closed it again, then nodded.

“Ok.” Dammit, you thought. If this was his first time, you wanted him to feel good. Would he tell you if he didn’t? You thought he would, he was always honest when you asked him to be, and he clearly wanted this. But it was that same want that made you wonder if he’d just keep going no matter what, and you didn’t want that.

You quickly spat into your hand, stretching up, placing a kiss on the corner of his mouth. Then, on second thoughts, you licked softly at his bottom lip. His breath rushed against your skin, the kiss hot and messy and barely even a kiss at all. It was more you licking into Cas’s mouth, Cas experimenting with his tongue in yours. After a few tries he found a rhythm, soft and supple, gentle and careful. Wonderful.

It was then that you reached down with your spit-lubed hand, wrapping your fingers around his throbbing length, coating the whole thing with moisture. There was already a little precum beading on the tip, and you used that too, your hand sliding easily. The skin here was smooth too, apart from the thick veins and swell of the head, the slit that you ran your thumb over, causing Cas to moan – really moan – into your mouth.

“Like this?” you murmured, moving your kisses away from his lips, over his stubble-roughed jaw, down to his neck. You sucked gently at the hollow under his jaw bone, hot and wet, leaving a red mark behind. You moved further down, over his jugular, more and more hickeys blossoming in your wake.

“Ah, (Y/N), yes–” Cas gasped. “Oh, just like that, please.”

You hummed softly, his breathlessness coupled with the words themselves like fog clouding your mind. All you wanted was more. More of his ragged voice, more of the desperate pleading, more of his hips jerking up into your hand and as your fingers slid smoothly over his cock. Your mouth paused at the base of his throat, made more apparent by the strain in his neck – the Plender gap, you thought it might have been called. You could vaguely picture that word with an arrow pointing to the spot on a medical diagram, although you weren’t sure why – and sucked a particularly dark hickey into the skin there. His collar would cover it in the morning.

His hand, which had been flitting about your waist, suddenly found its way to your hair. His fingers tangled in it, pulling your head back up so he could kiss you again. You smiled, your own free hand squeezing at his thigh just as you had before.

He moaned again, deep in the back of his throat, the sound reverberating through your whole body. How had you waited this long? If you’d known it’d be like this, you’d have jumped his bones the second you laid eyes on him. Hell, you’d wanted to.

“Can I use my mouth?” you asked between kisses – they still weren’t really kisses by any stringent definition, too messy for that.

“You are, hm, using your mouth,” Cas pointed out.

You laughed. It was so… matter of fact. “I mean down here,” you explained, giving his dick a gentle squeeze. “I can keep doing this if you want, but…”

“But?”

“I wanna taste you, Cas,” you smiled.

His mouth fell open, his cheeks colouring. He hadn’t been lying when he’d said he was new to this, you supposed. “Taste me?”

“Mhm,” you nodded, ducking forward to nip at his lip. “Wanna feel you in my mouth, wanna choke on your cock. I’ll make you feel so good, Cas, I promise.”

“(Y/N).” His voice was even more gravelly than usual, roughened by the raw desire glinting in his eyes.

“Mhm?”

“Are you sure?”

“That’s sweet,” you laughed again. “I’m sure, Cas. Remember you can stop me whenever you want, though, yeah?”

“Yeah, alright.”

“Alright?”

He kissed you again, more gently and with more precision than before, then nodded. “Go ahead.”

You felt a grin break across your face, your mouth already watering. You didn’t waste time, giving Cas a quick peck on the cheek before sliding off the edge of the bed and kneeling between his legs, your arms resting comfortably on his thighs. You ignored the slight pull of your cut, taking his cock once more in your hand and pumping it gently, once, twice, three times before you lowered your head and kissed the tip.

Cas’s stomach twitched, his hand going once more to your hair as his breath caught in his throat.

“Alright?” you asked, your own breath ghosting over the sensitive area, raising goosebumps.

“Yes,” he sighed. “Keep going?”

You smiled. “Magic word?”

“Please,” he practically growled.

Alright then. You slid your lips over him, relaxing your mouth as you sank as far down his length as you could. What wouldn't fit in your mouth was taken care of by one hand, the other busy holding his hips down. He nearly whined when you moved, bobbing your head back and forth slowly at first, but faster by the minute.

“Oh,” he panted, “oh, (Y/N), yes–”

“Good?” you mumbled, but it didn’t come out sounding like the original word at all. Still, Cas seemed to get the point.

“So good, feels so good. You feel so good, (Y/N), you have no idea.”

The praise went straight to your panties, pooling with the rest of the hot wetness that had been gathering steadily. You’d wanted to take your time, be as careful and gentle as he’d been with you. But now, breathing in the smell of him, feeling the weight and the heat of him, you were losing your composure.

“Oh,” he whispered again as you sped up, your hand moving in tandem with your mouth. He dick was slick with your spit and only getting messier, the saltiness of his precum mixing with the lingering sweetness of your lemonade.

You moaned, the vibrations jolting Cas’s hips despite his best efforts to stay still, as well as your hand attempting to hold him down. You gave a tiny huff of laughter out your nose, lowering your head even further until the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat, relaxing completely.

“(Y/N),” he panted. “(Y/N).”

“Hm?” You glanced up at him, your eyes watering slightly. He made a sound you’d thought only existed in pornos as his fingers tightened in your hair.

“You look… ah, so…” He paused, the words choked by another moan as your tongue swirled around his cock. “So beautiful.”

For the second time, your heart felt like it was melting in your chest. You smiled, your enthusiasm doubling. You were gonna make him cum in your mouth, you were determined. And after that – if he wanted, of course – you’d spread your legs for him and let him fuck you senseless.

He was close, he was so damn close, cock twitching and fingers clutching desperately at you despite his best attempts to be gentle. “I’m–” He broke off, gasping. “So much, (Y/N), it’s so much.”

You wondered if you should stop, if you should pull back and ask if he was ok. If he’d never done this before and hadn’t touched himself either, it was unlikely that he’d ever experienced an orgasm. Maybe you should reassure him. You ran your free hand down his thigh, squeezing gently. It’s alright, you tried to say with the gesture, hoping he’d understand. I’ve got you, you’re alright.

Then he was groaning deeply, his head thrown back and his eyes closed, thighs shaking under you and hot saltiness shooting down your throat. His skin shone with sweat, his chest heaving, his hand gripping your hair so tight it almost – almost – hurt. But it couldn’t have, not when your throat was working to swallow every drop of what he was giving you, not when he looked so beautiful laid out bare above you, not when you could see the pure, raw pleasure painted on his face.

As gently as you could, you drew back and licked him clean. You rested your head on his thigh, placing a soft kiss there, then drew back and sat, waiting.

Finally, Cas opened his eyes and looked at you. He took in your swollen lips, the flush you could feel dusting your cheeks, the tears that had leaked from your eyes, the bird’s nest that was your hair. And he smiled, reaching out a hand to help you up.

“Are you alright?” you asked, settling back on the bed beside him. You took his hands, holding them close to you. “It wasn’t… too much?”

“It was wonderful,” he said solemnly. Then he looked away. “Can I…”

“Yeah?” you prompted. “Can you…?”

He turned back, meeting your eyes. “I want to make you feel like that, too.”

Your stomach did a flip. “Oh.”

“Will you show me?” Cas’s eyes searched yours, curious and sincere. And how the hell could you say no to him?

You nodded, unbuttoning your pants and casting them off – admittedly with much less grace and efficiency than Cas. After a moment’s hesitation you did the same to your underwear, dropping them carelessly over the edge of the bed. You could hunt for them in the morning.

He was watching you the whole time, eyes following every movement you made in that way that was so him. You’d been unnerved by it before you’d gotten to know him, but now it just turned you on.

Slowly, hesitantly, he reached out and ran his hand over your stomach, up, up, up until he reached your breast. He didn’t stop as he had before, his thumb skimming your hard nipple, making you suck in a harsh breath.

“Is this alright?” he asked.

You nodded. “Mhm.”

“What about this?” He slid lower, past your belly button to where your leg joined your hip. It sent tingles running through your whole body.

“Mhm.”

“This?” Lower still, over your thigh, along the inside of it, so close to where you wanted him most.

“Yeah, Cas, you don’t have to ask.”

“I want you to feel–”

You stopped him with a kiss, brief and gentle. “Whatever you do is gonna feel great, ok?”

“But I’m–”

“Cas.”

He fell silent when you placed your hand on his face, leaning into your touch.

“Don’t worry,” you whispered. “I’m gonna help you, remember?”

He nodded, leaning forwards to press his lips against yours. He was getting pretty good at kissing, you noted. Not that he’d been bad when you’d started, but he’d figured out what worked with you.

“Show me,” he urged, the hand that had been tracing over your leg finding yours. “Show me where to touch you.”

This is it, you thought as he drew back, watching where his fingers twined with your own. He had officially smashed apart your standards for all men – and former angels – with just six words. You did as he asked, drawing his hand down between your legs to your now practically drenched pussy.

“Here,” you murmured, a little shock going through you as your fingers brushed your clit.

Cas’s eyes were wide, the pleasure-haze from his orgasm all but gone now. “Here?” he confirmed, pressing gently at the stiff little bundle of nerves.

“Yes,” you gasped, your voice much less steady than you’d have liked.

“Like this?” He slid his finger in a careful circle around it, his eyes never leaving your face.

“Yes, Cas, just like that.”

He did it again, then again and again. You sucked a harsh breath through your teeth, your hips twitching involuntarily.

“Fuck,” you moaned. “Fuck, Cas.”

“Is this alright?” he asked mildly.

“More than alright,” you half laughed, half panted. You broke off in another moan as he moved his hand, sliding the tips of his fingers around your hole, his palm pressing against your clit. You briefly wondered if he was doing it deliberately or just experimenting, and if he’d heard something about how to finger girls somewhere. If so, you wanted to know where. But, you thought a moment later, who really cared when it felt so damn good?

“Can I?” he murmured, watching your face carefully.

“Yeah,” you nodded frantically. “Yeah, go ahead— please.” The word was torn from you in a way that made colour bloom over Cas’s face as he pushed his finger into you. The heel of his hand was still pressing on your clit, and you ground down on it in a desperate search for friction as he added another finger, your own fingers digging into his shoulders and your breath coming in short gasps.

“Am I…” he started, then swallowed. “Is this good?”

“So fucking good,” you replied. “How the fuck are you so good at this?” It was ridiculous, unfair. Most dudes who’d tried had lamely poked at you until you’d given up trying to show them and just moaned loudly, leaving them to grin smugly, convinced they’d made you cum. Cas, however, was well on his way to conjuring the real thing.

He looked away for a moment, a small satisfied smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Good, you thought. He should be satisfied, he was fucking phenomenal. “I’m not sure,” he said.

It was your turn to smile. “Well you are,” you said simply. Then he moved his hand again and all you could think was fuck, because he really was incredible. He was kissing your neck, sucking at the spot where it met your shoulder, his other hand resting on your hip as you rocked against him, his own soft moans mixing with yours.

And God, you wanted him to fuck you.

“Hold on,” you panted. Much as his fingers were doing it for you, you couldn’t fight the shiver the thought of his cock buried inside you sent down your spine.

Cas froze immediately.

“No, no, it’s ok,” you assured him quickly. “I wanna try something else.”

“Is this not–”

“You’re doing great,” you interrupted. “I promise. But…” As before, you slid your hand gently down to palm at the already half-formed erection sitting between his legs.

Cas frowned.

“Would you like to fuck me?” you asked tentatively. You hated how unsure you sounded, how small.

His eyebrows shot halfway up his face.

“Only if you want to,” you added quickly. But from the way his dick had visibly hardened at your words, you guessed he probably did. So, you continued, “I’d like it if you did.”

Again, his tongue darted out over his lips. His voice was husky when he spoke. “I’d like it too.”

“Ok, what are we waiting for?” You smiled, shuffling backwards and easing yourself back on the bed. When you saw that Cas wasn’t following, you reached over and took his hand, dragging him down on top of you. “Come on,” you encouraged.

He gave a little “oof” as he crashed against you, quickly propping himself up above you. It looked uncomfortable.

“Relax,” you said, wriggling into the mattress and running your hands over his arms and shoulders. “It’s alright.”

“I don’t want to squash you.”

You smiled, pulling at him to come closer. “You won’t, don’t worry.”

“How do you know?”

“I just do. Besides, I wouldn’t mind.”

He snorted indignantly. “I would. Then whose lemonade would I steal?”

You laughed at that. Castiel, former divine soldier of God, joking about stealing your lemonade while he was about to fuck you. If you’d gone back and told yourself from a year ago, she’d have slapped you in the loony bin. “You could just order your own,” you pointed out.

“I could,” he conceded. “But I will not.”

“Ok, I don’t mind.” You stretched up, capturing his lips with your own and drawing him down towards you. What you’d said was true, he really didn’t need to worry about squashing you. You liked the warm weight of him, the firmness and certainty that his body pressed against yours brought, his arms caging you to the bed.

You smiled as his tongue slid along your bottom lip, opening your mouth almost immediately. Yeah, he knew what he was doing now. You hooked your leg over his, pulling his hips hard against your own. You were still tingling, still electrified with want and need from having deprived yourself of his fingers just minutes before, and almost without your conscious awareness you ground against him.

You swallowed the little moan that slipped from his mouth, rubbing your wetness over his hard cock.

“(Y/N),” he gasped, breaking the kiss, his hips moving in time with yours.

“Cas,” you echoed, equally as breathless. “Please?”

He swallowed, his eyes dark.

“I want you inside me,” you continued. “Please, Cas, I need you inside me. Now.”

He cursed softly, so softly the only thing you caught was the tone. You wondered what angels cursed by. Not God, surely. But it didn’t matter, because he was taking himself in hand and lining up at your entrance, looking at you for permission. “Here?” he asked.

You nodded. “Yeah, go ahead.”

Gently, so gently, he pushed inside you. You gave a little whimper that might have been embarrassing in any other situation at the stretch, the delicious feeling of being filled up completely by him. Cas, on the other hand, didn’t make a sound. He wasn’t even breathing, just staring at the place where your body swallowed his, his eyes wide.

“Hey,” you said softly, smiling at him when his eyes met yours. “You alright down there?”

“Yes,” he whispered, running a hand reverently over your stomach. His fingers brushed over your scars, some silver, some a newer pale pink. Your earlier doubts fluttered to the front of your mind, but you determinedly pushed them away. Now was not the time.

“You can move,” you told him, rocking your hips gently against his by way of demonstration. Then, “Please?”

He nodded, one hand resting on your hip as he pulled out a little, sliding smoothly back in. He hummed quietly, did it again, then again and again and again, finding his rhythm. It was good, it was as gentle as everything else, firm enough to pull at that special place deep in your belly, steady and decisive. Most of all, it was Cas. Cas fucking you, Cas’s cock sending spasms of heat through your body, Cas’s hand steadying himself and you, Cas’s lovely gravelly voice mumuring your name.

He leant further over you, bending his head to place a wet, open-mouthed kiss to the cut-free side of your collar bone, following it with another, more forceful one, then more until you were sure you looked like someone had spilt wine over your chest. You supposed it was only fair, given how many love bites you’d showered him with.

“Shit, Cas,” you whispered, your hand coming up to run over the back of his head, fingers carding through his mussed-up hair. You’d always wanted to fix it, stroke it down, maybe make it worse. When you’d first met him you’d gone so far as to tell him to his face that it was “un-angelic”. He’d been amused by that.

Now, he groaned against your skin. You smiled to yourself, stroking his scalp again and coaxing another wonderful little moan. You curled your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, lifting your hips off the mattress in time with his thrusts. His breath fanned over your neck, the muscles of his arm taut.

“I’m so close,” you whispered, and you were. The tightness was building in your stomach, coiling and swirling into a dense knot of pleasure. Every movement Cas made had his pelvis hitting your clit, the bedhead hitting the wall behind it – you briefly felt bad for the next room’s residents – and Cas’s cock hitting deep inside you. The only sounds were the squeaking of the mattress – again, you felt bad – and the wet slap of skin on skin, peppered with your combined moans and sighs.

“Fuck, Cas,” you gasped, your voice rising in pitch as you spiralled closer, closer… “Oh, shit, fuck, oh my God, Cas, Cas, I’m gonna cum, holy shit I’m gonna– Castiel!”

You let go, your eyes screwed tightly shut, spine arching off the bed as the bomb inside you exploded. Sparks fizzed through your veins, every muscle in your body clenching as stars speckled your vision and you cried Cas’s name over and over like some kind of mantra.

He hadn’t stopped, in fact he’d sped up, and when your mind finally crashed back into your body his hips were stuttering, his face buried in your neck. He spilled inside you, hot and thick as it had been in your mouth, a deep groan thrumming through you from where his lips still rested on your chest. He stilled after a moment, still holding most of his weight off you despite your arms wrapped around his back, whispering your name like it was a prayer.

You wriggled sideways, smiling as he went limp and flopped down beside you. Well, sort of beside you. His head and the better part of his shoulders still rested over your chest, his lips ghosting over you in feather light kisses, his hand running up and down your arm.

“We should get cleaned up,” you whispered after a moment.

“Hm?”

“Clean up,” you repeated. “We’re all sticky.”

“Oh,” was all he said. Then, “alright then.”

You extricated yourself, squeezing his shoulder gently as you rose and headed for the bathroom. You debated pulling him into the shower with you, but as your eyes settled on the folded washcloth by the sink you scrapped that idea. This would be quicker and easier, and you were tired, dammit. There’d be other opportunities — at least you hoped there would be.

You wiped yourself down, turning to find Cas standing in the doorway. The flickering yellow neon strip of illumination above the mirror cast weird shadows over his body, still shining with exertion. Beautiful, even with the medley of hickeys on his neck and the mess of his and your cum around his crotch.

You beckoned him closer, spongeing away the sweat and other spunk coating his skin. Occasionally you’d look up, without fail meeting his eyes. The usual interest had been replaced with something more; something whole and warm and just for you. The thought made your heart skip a beat.

When you were finished, you stretched up and kissed him again, just once. Then you took his hand, heading back towards the bed.

He hesitated, and you turned. He was looking at the couch, indecision marring his face.

“What’s wrong?” you asked.

“I assumed you’d want the bed to yourself,” he shrugged. “You usually don’t share”

Oh, ok. “Usually, yeah,” you replied, as casually as you could. “But I wanna share with you.” You looked down at your still joined hands, pulling gently. “Stay?”

After a moment, he nodded.

It took longer than it should have to sort out the stupidly layered sheets and blankets, but finally you were both finished wriggling and shifting around, comfortably facing each other. You smiled at him, taking his hand again.

“I wondered what it would feel like to lie beside you, while you slept. You looked so… at peace.” He leaned forward the few inches between you, his lips cool against your forehead. “Beautiful.”

Your voice was quieter than you’d meant it to be, and breathier. “You watch me sleep?”

“It’s hard not to.” It may have been your imagination, but he sounded a little guilty.

You laughed, leaning forward to whisper, “That’s a little creepy, Cas.”

“Should I not have?”

“I don’t mind,” you said after a pause, “but maybe try not to mention things like that. Most people would find it weird.”

“You don’t?”

You shook your head. “Not when it’s you.” The hand that had been holding his was free now, sliding up to cup his face almost of its own volition. You pressed your lips to his, softly and slowly, sweet as syrup. You shifted closer still, draping your arm over him.

“Because I’m important to you, too?” he asked when you drew back. His eyes searched yours in the dimness, sincere and open. God, he was just… so much.

You smiled. “Yeah, Cas, you sure are.”

You woke to a hand running over your shoulder, the rise and fall of a chest beneath your cheek and the steady beating of a heart. Cas’s heart, Cas’s chest, Cas’s hand.

“Hi,” you whispered, sitting up. His hand ceased its movements, his lips curling into a gentle smile.

“Hello.”

You dipped down, kissing him softly, your finger tracing the outline of his lips when you drew away. “Sleep well?”

He sighed deeply, staring at the ceiling for a moment before his gaze found yours again. “Better than I ever have before. Thank you, (Y/N).”

“That’s alright.” You looked away, heat rushing to your face. “It was my pleasure.”

“I can see why you – humans – like it so much.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Hm?”

“Sex,” he explained. “I think I get it now.”

“Oh,” you laughed. “Well, that was pretty good sex. For someone who’s never done it before, you were amazing.”

“Really?” He leaned back, surveying your face carefully.

You nodded. “And anyway,” you went on, “it usually feels better when it’s someone who’s…”

He waited, watching you stumble over your words.

“You know…” You paused, swallowing, half wishing you’d just left it at telling him he was good. “Someone who’s special to you,” you finished lamely.

“Well,” he said after a moment, “then I’m glad it was you.”

You didn’t really know how to respond to that, so you just smiled and kissed him again. It was slow and lazy, his bare chest silken under your own, nothing but the soft rush of breath and tiny hum he gave, the rustle of the sheets, the ticking of the motel room clock. Then your phone rang.

“Fucking hell,” you muttered as you broke away, giving Cas a final apologetic peck before making your way to the table where you’d dumped it. Sam’s name flashed on the screen.

“What do you want?” you growled.

“Breakfast,” he answered. “What’s up your ass?”

“I was sleeping” you answered smoothly, then, “I don’t like being woken up.”

He snorted. “Yeah, alright. Meet us outside in, say, twenty minutes?”

You glanced at Cas, who was now sitting up and, you guessed it, watching you. You squished the phone to your chest. “Breakfast in twenty?” you asked.

He nodded, already swinging his legs over the side of the bed. You couldn’t help staring just a little as he went about getting dressed, drinking in every rapidly disappearing inch of skin like some kind of sexually repressed Victorian maiden.

“Sure,” you said to Sam, then hung up. The problem that you hadn’t thought through last night was the hickeys. You had a scarf, you could button your shirt over your chest, and thankfully Cas had shown more restraint than you had. The most problematic mark sat right in the hollow under his jaw, two love bites blending together. It wasn’t even hickey-shaped, really, but you didn’t think that’d fool Dean and Sam.

“What’s wrong?” Cas asked, fastening the final button on his shirt.

“Nothing,” you sighed. “But Dean’s gonna give us endless – and I mean endless – shit.”

“You’ve killed demons, (Y/N),” he smiled. “And you still can’t deal with Dean’s endless shit?”

“Oi! I can, I just don’t want to.” You crossed the room, poking him square in the chest. “And you’re gonna be dealing with it too, so don’t get cocky.”

“We’ll deal with it together.” It was tentative, almost a question.

You smiled, taking his hands. “Castiel and (Y/N) vs Dean Winchester’s endless shit. I can work with that.”

Things were a little strange over breakfast. Sam and Dean kept glancing at each other, having their annoying silent conversations that consisted of raised eyebrows and side-eyes, the occasional jerk of the head or twist of the mouth. Self consciously, you re-adjusted your scarf, pointedly not meeting anyeone’s eyes. You’d almost made the call not to sit next to Cas, but then he’d looked up at you from his spot by the window and you didn’t stand a chance. You were grateful for your decision when the food came, it made sharing with him a lot easier.

“Dude,” Sam said suddenly, twisting to face his brother and nearly taking out his glass of water. The eyebrow raising and eye-widening had gotten more intense in the last minute, and clearly they’d hit a boiling point.

“It’s not a hickey!” Dean protested. “It’s not even hickey-shaped!”

You froze, fork halfway to your mouth.

“What?” Cas voiced your thoughts, frowning over the cup of coffee he was nursing.

Sam sighed. “Cas, look out the window for a second.”

“Hey–” you started, but you were too late. Both Sam and Dean’s eyebrows shot halfway up their foreheads, and Cas was dutifully peering through the glass. Why did he choose now of all times to listen to Sam?

“That’s a hickey,” the younger man was claiming triumphantly, nodding to the stain on Cas’s neck.

Dean whistled softly. “That’s two hickeys. It’s like… a Siamese hickey.”

“Gross, Dean,” you muttered, ignoring the heat in your cheeks.

He shrugged. “It’s a beautiful, natural act, (Y/N), lighten up. Congratulations, Cas. Who’s the lucky girl?”

Sam made a noise like he was choking. You studied your hands on the table in front of you. Dean grinned. Cas didn’t say anything.

“Was it that waitress?” Dean asked, leaning forwards. “She was cute, man, I’d have tapped that.”

“No, it wasn’t the waitress.”

Dean frowned, then his eyes widened. “The hotel receptionist?” he whispered. “Dude, she was a milf. Nice one.”

“Dean…” Sam started, looking between you and Cas. You glared.

“What? He deserves a pat on the back. I gotta say, I wasn’t sure if you had it in you.”

Sam sighed. “I don’t think it was the hotel receptionist.”

“No? Who else?”

Again, he glanced at you. You hadn’t moved, stiff as a statue and bracing for impact. You were so close to just spitting it out right there, biting the bullet and getting it over with. But you hadn’t discussed that with Cas, and you couldn’t exactly do so now.

Dean was looking expectantly at Sam, who was shaking his head in disbelief. You couldn’t blame him. Then, as if in slow motion, Dean’s face fell and realisation dawned in his eyes.

“No,” he said softly. “No, you didn’t.”

It was your turn to shrug. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t get a little bit of a kick out of Dean’s absolutely horrified expression. Endless shit that was about to rain down on you and all.

“You slept together? You,” he looked at you, “and you?” He looked at Cas.

“Yes,” the former angel said stiffly. “It was nicer than the couch.”

“No, I mean–”

You raised a hand, stopping him. “Yes, Dean,” you sighed. “Just… get it out now.”

“Aw, man.” He groaned, rubbing a hand over his forehead. “That was you guys?”

“I told you,” Sam shrugged, looking all too smug.

Cas frowned. “Told him what?”

“We could hear you,” Dean muttered, his cheeks going a deep red. “I didn’t think we were sharing a wall, Sam did. Drew me a diagram of the motel layout and everything. I didn’t wanna believe it, I didn’t wanna know that… Aw, man!”

Sam’s smile widened, and he extended a hand across the table. “Pay up.”

“Pay up?” You glared at him, incredulous. “What the fuck do you mean, pay up?”

“I mean he owes me fifty. Thanks for that, by the way.” With this, he nodded to Cas.

You gaped. “Please don’t tell me you bet on me and Cas sleeping together. And please don’t tell me you bet for it.”

“What can I say? I knew it’d happen eventually, the way you drool over each other. Not my fault Dean actually took me up on it.”

You groaned, twisting to bury your face in Cas’s trench coat. Absently, he patted your hair. “Why can’t you guys just be normal about one single thing?” you lamented. “Who the hell bets on their friends sleeping together?”

“Actually,” Dean said through a mouthful of bacon, “it’s a very normal thing to do.”

“Mhm, back at Stanford–”

“Back at Stanford,” you mimicked, cutting him off. “I can’t believe you two.”

Dean held his hands up as if surrendering. “Hey, sorry, but I didn’t think either of you would have the balls to ever make a move. And it was fifty dollars, don’t try to tell me you wouldn’t take that.”

“I can’t believe I’m gonna have to sit in the car all day with you.”

“Me too,” Cas added solemnly.

You sighed, taking his hand under the table and laying it between you, squeezing in full view of Sam and Dean. Cas squeezed back.

“You’re not allowed to… do anything in the back of my car.” Dean said after a moment. “Especially not with me or Sam there too.”

Defiantly, you shifted closer to Cas, fingers still entwined with his, firmly meeting Dean’s eyes. “Don’t bet on it.”

4K notes · View notes

melancholymetropolis · 8 months ago

Text

Exchange pt. III

plot: In which Gojo and Y/N wake up together and have morning sex

pairings: Clan Leader!Gojo Saturo x Lawyer!Reader

genre(s): Porn with Feelings

warnings: unedited (mostly). PORN PORN PORN!!!!!!!!!! (This is kinda stand-alone piece) safe sex. oral sex (f receiving). light choking. multiple positions. fingering. squirting. PIV SEX. pet names (sweetheart, sweetness, darling, etc.) multiple orgasms. LAUGHING DURING SEX. lowkey rom com vibes. play wrestling.

song association: Fetish by Selena Gomez

a/n: don't fight me! I come with smut (3k words worth)

w.c: 4.6k

part(s): Part I Part II

A head of unruly, white hair rested comfortably on my chest. Gentle breaths eased out of the owner's nostrils as he slept peacefully. Parted, pink lips were left slightly ajar and pushed out a deep breath every so often. A pool of drool fell from the mouth as well. It created a medium size spot on my tee shirt. His strong arms were wrapped around my midsection and one of his legs was resting between mine. Saturo held onto me like I was his lifeline. The very oxygen gracing his lungs. Even in his sleep, the man couldn't fake his affection for me.

My hand found his hair moments later. My fingertips caressed the thick, full locks tenderly. He was truly something of a fairy tale. His face was almost angelic in the low light. It kissed his pale skin like a lover and embraced him with a fondness I knew all too well. Wispy, white lashes graced his drowsy eyes. My hand lowered from his hair and to his cheek. My fingers brushed against the smooth, clear skin of the area.

“Keep touching me like that,” Saturo grunted, nuzzling my chest. “And I'll get the wrong idea.”

A soft smile fell onto my lips. “And what idea is that?”

“That you're falling in love with me.” Amusement dripped from his voice like a faucet.

I playfully swatted the top of his head. “Oh shut up!”

He lifted his head from my chest in one swift motion. His blue eyes sparkled in the low light and that sleepy smile stabbed me in the heart.

Holy fuck is he gorgeous, I found myself thinking.

“Admit it, sweetheart,” he teased. “You’re falling in love with me. I mean why else would you invite me to your bed.”

“Maybe because it was 3 AM when we finished eating?” I suggested, a smile falling to my lips. “And you shouldn’t be driving while exhausted?”

He paused, pretended to think for a minute, before shooting me the cockiest fucking look I had ever seen in my life. “It could be that,” he started. “Or, you were just so worried about your husband’s well being that you wanted him to sleep safely in your arms for the night.”

“Boy, bye!” I chuckled, pushing against his shoulders. “Now you’re dragging it.”

Saturo lifts his body from mine and I instantly felt a cooling sensation dance between the space.

“Come on, wifey,” he grinned. “You don’t have to hide feelings from your husband.”

I shoved at his shoulders again. “Keep talking like that and I’m gonna kick you off the bed.”

“Oh, I’d like to see you try,” he provoked.

A knowing smirk fell on my lips. “Challenge accepted.”

Before Saturo could throw a snide comment my way, both of my legs hooked around his waist. At the same time, my arms latched underneath his pits. I swung our bodies to the left, effectively switching our positions. I straddled his waist, allowing my lower half to pin his legs to the bed. I placed both hands on his T-shirt covered chest and pinned his upper half down as well. His blue eyes widened with utter astonishment, fear and a little something else I couldn’t exactly catch.

“Fuck, you’re stronger than I thought,” he gasped, eyes trailing over my body. His chest was rising and falling at a rapid pace. “I was not expecting that. Like at all…. Shit. I think you took my breath away. Literally.”

Laughter erupted from my chest and poured from my lips. “Well, there's a first time for everything.”

His hands rested on my thighs, a look of amazement still on his face. “Seriously, sweetheart, is there something you're not telling me.”

“Like what?” I giggled.

“I don't know. . . Like maybe you have a secret second life that requires you to be as strong a fucking body builder.”

“Seriously, ‘Toru, you're being ridiculous.”

“I'm not being— wait. What did you just say?”

I raised an eyebrow. “That you're being ridiculous?”

“Before that,” a smile slowly formed on his face.

“Seriously?”

“After that.”

“I didn't say anything—”

“Don't deny it, sweetness,” the smile was so wide that it practically covered half of his face. “You called me by my first name.”

“I did no such thing!” I crossed my arms over my chest and playfully avoided his gaze.

“Not only that,” he replied, lifting his back from the bed. “You gave me a nickname.”

“No I did not—ah!”

Saturo flipped our bodies back to their original position, with him on top. His massive hand took hold of both of my wrists and pinned them above my head. His knees rested on either side of my thighs, caging my body underneath his. Saturo used his other hand to cradle my face and direct my gaze directly into his eyes. They were electric blue, once again. They shined brightly before me in a way I had only seen twice before. Once at the wedding and the other last night in the restaurant. They searched my face for something I couldn't necessarily pick up. Some truth hidden beneath the surface that I was too scared to reveal. The longer he stared, the deeper the ringing in my ear sounded.

“Say it again,” his voice dropped to a whisper.

“Say what?” I smirked, pulling at my wrists.

“Playing coy is gonna get you in trouble, sweetheart,” he replied, returning my smirk. “I'd watch it if I were you.”

“And what exactly are you gonna do, Ole husband of mine?” I replied, a lustful glint in my eye. “Spank me?”

His jaw clenched and the grip on my wrists tightened. “Please don't threaten me with a good time, sweetness.” He shivered, visibly. “I'll have you on my lap before that cute little nickname leaves your lips a second time.”

“Is that a promise?” I said, allowing my eyes to drop half lidded.

Saturo sucked in a breath and he clenched his jaw. “I am trying my best to behave. To be the gentleman you deserve. But all I can think about is burying myself in that sweet pussy and fucking you until the next sun rise. So, please, darling, don't tease me. My meager heart cannot take it.”

The desire burned in his eyes like sunshine through a magnifying glass. Point it at just the right angle and the object underneath would catch fire. The object or, more specifically, the person underneath said magnifying glass happened to be me. His gaze was beginning to set my body ablaze. Flashes of our last entanglement flickered through my mind like an old film. The heaviness of his body against mine as he pumped into me like a piston. The feeling of his tongue on my skin and how he groaned my name. I remember the way my nails scraped against the wooden headboard behind us. Remembering the rhythmic banging had sent me shivers down my spine. The look on his face made my womanhood tingle. He was remembering that night too. The evening my shins shook violently on his shoulders and he came so hard his entire body convulsed.

It was also the last night we spent together before the wedding.

The same night I left him.

A subtle pain started to throb in my chest from the memory. The guilt slowly threatened to consume me. I reassured myself that I knew better, currently. I knew that the white haired above me was more than just a vacation fling. More than just a cheap thrill to distract me from the tipsy bride-to-be and the plastered bridesmaids. He was a good guy, underneath that silly demeanor. He was thorough. Saturo weighed every option presented to him before coming to a conclusion. He was consistent. When he finally chose said option, he would try his hardest to see it through. He was passionate. There wasn’t a challenge he couldn’t overcome. A person he couldn’t charm. Myself included.

“Left nightstand,” I found myself saying, a subtle smile on my lips. “Top drawer.”

“What’s in there?” A confused look colored his face.

“Condoms.”

The confused look morphed into three different expressions as the realization of what I said hit him. The first being shock. His eyebrows rose and his grip on my wrists loosened. The words rising over in his brain several more times before it morphed into a look of adoration. Saturo’s eyes eased halfway closed and a small smile formed on his lips. His shoulders relaxed and the grip he had on my wrists was forgotten. A gentle hand cupped my cheek before the final expression took over his face: unadulterated joy. He leaned his body down and pressed his forehead to mine. I could practically hear his heart pounding in his chest. Singing a song I was quickly learning the lyrics to. His hot breath fanned my face and his eyes looked deeply into mine; as if he could see my soul. See how it was opening up for him and how it searched for him after all this time.

“Can I kiss you?” The question was breathless on his lips. Almost like the moment we were having wasn’t real. Almost as if I weren’t real.

“Please.”

The softness of his lips melted the ice covering my defenses. My arms wrapped around his neck and I started to pull Saturo closer. The weight of his body broke down the walls I eradicated to keep him out of my heart. His touch pulled away the feelings of confusion and uncertainty. He moaned against my lips; his arms so tightly around my body I could barely breathe. I could barely form a thought, other than the one that we seemed to share.

I want you.

When the need of oxygen became prevalent for the both of us, I pulled away. My eyes were blurry with lust and I could hear myself panting like horny teenager after such an embrace. Saturo’s hot mouth continued to lay kisses along my neck and shoulder. His hips dropped from the levitating position and situated themselves between my open legs. Saturo arched his back, almost like a feline, and started to grind his pelvic area against mine. The clothes and blanket between us did nothing to hide the intensity of his erection. The teasing thrusts of his hips were sending shivers down my spine, the anticipation of what was to come driving me up the wall.

A warm hand wiggled between our two bodies and slid underneath my shirt. The wide palm pressed against the soft tissue of my left breasts before giving it a squeeze. At the same time, the bastard ran a hot tongue against the side of my neck. I moaned as a result. His fingers found the nipple instantly. Saturo ruled the bud between his fingers, while leaving little nips at my shoulder.

“Care to help me out, sweetness?” He asked softly.

His voice was deep with sleep, but had been coated with lust.

Saturo’s half opened blue eyes looked down at me as if I were hiding something.

The ghost of a smile on his perfect pink lips had me melting in the middle.

“Yes. . . ?” Was all I could mutter after staring at him for a noticeable amount of time.

“Take your shirt off for me, baby,” he replied, the humorous look on his face growing into a full-blown grin.

As I lifted the shirt over my head, a thought appeared in my mind. Saturo was not the kind of person to pressure me into doing things I didn't want to do. Sure, in the beginning, he was a little shit about hanging out and getting to know me— though he never forced me to do it. Nor did he guilt trip into going out with him. Saturo gave me an option. He made it known that it was always my choice to have whatever relationship I wanted with him.

My hands gripped the bottom of the T-shirt and pulled the garment from my body. The cool air in the bedroom caused me to shiver slightly. The man above me froze the moment he caught sight of my bare breasts. His eyes rolled over them like water on a leaf as his tongue ran against his bottom lip. Saturo brought his face to my chest while panting. His mouth was already ready ajar while he gripped the first mound and brought the dark brown bud to his lips. We both moaned at the action. His eyes fluttered closed as he suckled the needy nipple. After a few moments, he released it with a pop and started to swirl his tongue against it. I squirmed beneath him. I wanted nothing more.

His warm hand slid down my bare belly as he switched to the other nipple. The slender fingers shimmied under the waistband and found my sticky womanhood. Two digits ran along my slit before dipping into the folds and circling my bud. A pleasurable sigh left my body from the sensation. My hips rolled against his hand. The friction was utterly delicious on the neglected area. I felt my body vibrate beneath his; the desire to be consumed by him becoming too great to ignore.

A little while later, Saturo lifted his head from my breast and started to kiss down my navel. His eyes flickering up to meet mine every so often. I nervously nipped my bottom lip as I watched his face grow closer to my cunt. His hands pulled at the legs of the sleep shorts; I raised my hips to assist in the action. The cool air on my warm cunt made me shiver. An unholy groan left Saturo’s lips as his eyes stared at the curly mound.

“No panties, huh?” His eyes snapping back to mine.

“I hardly ever sleep with them on,” I admitted with a shrug.

“Noted,” he said with a smirk.

Saturo, then, spread my legs nice and wide to get a better view. I saw his breath hitch at the sight. His thumb ran against the slick slit and I moaned from the feather-like strokes. He pushed my hips apart further and brought my body closer to the edge of the bed. With knees planted on the floor and both hands planted on the backs of my thighs, Saturo dove right in.

Long, slow licks graced my neglected folds and I shuddered beneath him. The tip of his plush tongue ran from my drenched center to the throbbing pearl. He circled said pearl with agonizingly slow movements that made me squirm.

“Stop teasing,” I purred, gently combing through his messy hair. “I thought you wanted to bury yourself in my sweet pussy, or whatever you said earlier.”

A low chuckle rumbled through him and Sauro’s eyes caught mine. “Aren’t we impatient, sweetness?” He nipped at the side of my thigh, earning a smile from me.

“Well, it has been a while since you performed your husbandly duties. . .” I trailed off with a knowing smile.

“Oh?” Saturo raised an eyebrow. “So I am your husband now?”

“I mean, you could go back to being my cheap whore,” I teased, propping myself up on my elbows. “I’ll give you a few bills before I send you away.”

“I knew you did that shit on purpose!” Saturo barked with laughter.

“It wasn’t my intention, but I am not denying the allegation.”

Saturo swatted my leg playfully before throwing me a stern look. “Just for that, I should leave you like this. Hot and bothered.”

“You could,” I nodded. “But, you won’t.”

Saturo narrowed his eyes. “. . . I won’t.”

“Good boy.”

His mouth was on my heat once more, sucking the throbbing pearl into his scorching mouth. The teasing was over and the real game began. As Saturo sucked, the tip of his tongue brushed against the underside of my clit every so often. I squirmed beneath him as the pleasure rose in my belly. He must’ve remembered our last time together. The way I creamed all over his face when did that exact movement with his tongue on my womanhood. A flash of something familiar crossed his eyes and watched an arm wrap around my right thigh, as two fingers brushed my entrance. As if to ask for permission.

“If you add those digits, darling, I’m gonna make a mess of that pretty face.” I sighed, attempting to sound unenthusiastic about the action. “I hope you’re prepared for that.”

The taller gentleman groaned against my cunt, but never removed his mouth from it. He pushed both fingers into my awaiting hole and I sucked in a breath. The digits curled in my sex and found the familiar spongy center at the roof of it. My thighs shook in his arms. Saturo massaged the area with a firm hand. He kneaded my g-spot into submission and I felt body start to vibrate underneath him.

“Oooh. . .” I cooed, brushing his hair from his eyes. “Just like that. . . Don’t stop. . .”

Saturo groaned again, his eyes half-closed as he looked up at me.

He was truly enjoying himself, more than he assumed possible.

His desire, like mine, tainted the air with its sweet music. I could hear them clearly, despite the amulet hanging from my neck. The energy he oozed was far more powerful than anything I had previously encountered. It bellowed out to me in such a way that it was hard to ignore it. The ringing in my ear was subtle, almost like a whisper from a lover. A warm pool in my stomach started to grow. One by one, my limbs grew unfeeling. I could feel absolutely nothing by Saturo’s mouth on my pussy. My eyes started to roll back as my back arched from the bed. My nails dug into the bed sheets as my mouth hung open. The climax was deep and guttural. It pulled a sound from my being that I did not recognize. I hadn’t realized I was holding my breath until the pressure in my chest grew too great. I had to force a giant wave of cool air to flood my lungs as I cried out Saturo’s name. I felt my legs shake against his face, as he continued to suck my clit.

“Too much!” I gasped, nudging his head away from my sensitive womanhood. “Stop! Please. . .”

Saturo removed his lips from the aching bud and pressed wet kisses on my soft stomach. He crawled up my body and took me in his arms. He held me tightly as the aftershocks of the orgasm started to wear off. With my back pressed against his chest, I felt myself relax almost instantly. His presence was certain as the sunrise and it warmed me immensely. We laid in silence for several moments, but it wasn’t awkward. It was peaceful. I could’ve stayed like that forever.

The taller gentleman pulled away for a breath moment. Moments later, I heard the familiar slide of the nightstand’s drawer open. Followed by that was a gentle crinkle of plastic and then a soft hiss fell from his lips. Saturo’s arms were around me before my body grew cold. He pressed hot kisses on my naked shoulder, before pressing his hard length on my bare ass.

“Are you still up for this, sweetness?”

“Yes,” I replied, breathless.

The throbbing member sank into my center from behind and I swore I saw stars. His strong arm hooked across my middle to steady himself. His hips rolled against my plush rear and soft moans spilled from his lips afterward. The weight of his body on mine and the feeling of his breath against my ear was indescribable. The thoughts spinning in mind were in one category: adoration. Maybe it was the dopamine and adrenaline creating a toxic cocktail on my emotions, but all I could think about was my future with Saturo. The way our mornings could be just like this one. Filled with sensual love-making and intimacy that made my head spin. The way he cradled by body as he thrusted into me was exhilarating. He held me like I was going to disappear at any moment.

After a short while, he hiked my left leg into the arm and hooked his arm around my thigh. Saturo tilted his hips backward and started to thrust into me a little bit harder. My shoulders fell into the crook of his arm as my back pressed against the soft mattress. His cock moved deeper into my cunt and pressed a pleasure point I had forgotten I had. My eyes rolled back and the air in my throat grew thick. My nails dug into his forearms as I felt my toes curl.

“There it is,” Saturo snickered. “That’s the face I am looking for.”

“ ‘Turo. . .” I moaned, my head falling back onto his shoulder.

He shuddered from the sound of the nickname and moved his hips faster against my ass.

My eyes rolled back as I felt the pressure in my belly grow once more. My nerves were buzzing and started to feel my body begin to heat all over. The sensations coursing through me were simply incredible and I didn’t want them to end. I never wanted to be separated from the feeling Saturo, my husband, was giving me.

Gradually, the thought of being married to him did not repulse me. It ignited a sort of excitement within me that I kept hidden from the public eye. To have such a biblically beautiful man on one’s as we simply lived life would greatly boost anyone’s ego. For that same man to be downright obsessed with everything about me was something entirely different. The passion he had for me was simply extraordinary. The sweet words that fell from his lips as he fucked me tenderly had made my heart sing. The heat from his body and the power that surrounded him was simply ethereal. All reasonable doubt slipped from my mind the longer the thrusted into me. All I could think about was Gojo Saturo and coming home to his girthy cock every night.

One by one, I felt my limbs go numb and my body stiffen. Keep, harsh breaths poured from my lips as my eyes squeezed shut. The feeling of his cock slipping against my walls had broken through the numbness. I could feel said walls begin to contract, squeezing his member tightly as I climaxed. A gush of cool air filled my lungs as my body melted into his.

“Don’t stop!” I screamed, gripping his arm tightly. “Please don’t stop. . . oh God. . .”

The second wave of the orgasm made my entire body shake against his. My hips bucked against his thick member and my thigh shook in grasp. The older gentleman tried everything to keep the slippery limb from his grasp, but to no avail.

Frustrated, Saturo rolled my stomach and wrapped a hand across my chest. He pressed his entire body against my back, before putting a hand on my throat. Upon pressing his hips against my ass, I realized that his cock was even deeper than it was before. Saturo started to rock his hips against my soft ass and I had never felt something so marvelous in my entire life. The pressure in which he used to fuck me was unholy. The head of his brilliant cock was hitting a pleasure point so deep in my pussy that I was sure that the other lover knew it existed. The weight of his body pushed my pelvis nearly flat against the mattress and added pressure to my stomach. Just between my thighs I felt something rather fluffy nestled right against my apex. The cushioned item slid against my throbbing clit with each thrust and I felt my entire body shiver.

I had no idea when Saturo shoved a pillow between my thighs, but I knew the move was far from a mistake.

“You are so… fucking… perfect,” He stammered, pounding into slick pussy like his life depended on it. “The best. . . person. . . for me.”

Saturo’s grip on the bedsheets tightened and I felt his hips begin to twitch against mine.

He was getting close.

“Tell me,” I said, breathless. “Tell me that you're mine.”

Soft curses fell from his lips as the fingers on my neck tightened. Jagged breaths fell from his lips as his hips moved faster against my lower half. The heaviness of the member pushed against the roof of cunt. Added with the weight of his body against mine meant that Saturo was annihilating two of my pleasure points at once. The addition of the pillow meant that he was three. I couldn’t even feel the last orgasm building as I felt with the prior two. The lovely man was simply taking me onto an ongoing wave of pleasure, equipped with peaks and valleys.

The grinding of his body against mine was mind-numbing. I could feel little dribbles of drool spill from the side of my mouth as he fucked me. Incoherent words spilled from my lips like a drunk prayer, along with a few slurred sprinkles of his name. I never wanted that moment to end, I never wanted him to stop pounding me into the mattress as the late morning sun illuminated our sweat soaked bodies. I wanted the moment to last forever. I wanted to stay with him forever; for in that moment he was truly mine.

My friend.

My lover.

My. . . husband.

The orgasm poured over me like a soothing wave. It was just as deep as the other two, but didn’t have such violent muscle tension. My eyes squeezed shut as I rode on the high. It made my entire body warm and my heart tingle. It made me thankful for the impulsive decision to invite him into my apartment and into my bed. I almost scolded myself for not doing it sooner. The heavy member still pressed against the inflated, spongy area in my cunt. Every thrust had sent electricity throughout my body. The little control that Saturo was holding onto slipped through his fingers. The power behind his thrusts grew elevated and resulted in him practically dropping his cock in my awaiting hole. The movement further stimulated my sensitive clit, since his heaviness caused my womanhood to have even more contact with the pillow. My pearl ground against the plush surface hard as Saturo fucked me deeper than before.

“I’m gonna cum again!” I screamed, pulling at the sheets. “I’m gonna cum again!”

“That’s it, baby,” Saturo grunted. “Scream for your husband.”

His fingers pressed deeper into the sides of my neck as my eyes rolled back for the millionth time. The word ‘yes’ spilled from my lips as if it were the only word in the dictionary. I could feel my legs shake violently beneath him and my mouth open wider than it ever had. A warm pool of liquid started to spill from my sticky cunt shortly after, resulting in a small puddle forming between my thighs. The scream that left my throat was so intense that it was silent. I could feel the massive man above me begin to shudder uncontrollably as his heavy member twitched within my snatch. His body fell onto mine in a sweaty heap and Saturo took a moment to catch his breath.

His hand slipped from my throat and he laced the digits with my shaky one. He pressed soft kisses onto my shoulders as I caught my breath.

“I am yours,” he replied, finally acknowledging my request. The one I nearly forgot. “As you are mine. Forever”.

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a/n: before you come for me (pun intended), just know that the next installment may not be the happiest.

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TAGLIST

@amajikisupremacy @sweetdreams-inumimi @reagan707 @wannabeotaku @hazzelle-kento @rav3nmuse @maliamaiden @@satoruontopofme

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olrinarts · 4 days ago

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Stuck inside during an unanticipated snowstorm, Narinder and the Lamb resort to playing Knucklebones, and it goes... weird. Then the Lamb gets melodramatic. Thankfully, not everyone is content to leave it at that. (narilamb, explicit, 8k.)

#cult of the lamb #cotl lamb #cotl narinder #narilamb #cult of the lamb fanfic #pwp fic #sorta #i don't think i've ever written smut without SOME plot #but the point is the smut #olrin writes

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anothersigh · 8 months ago

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I saw a Sterek post about mating season and Derek having big balls, and it reminded me an old tweet of mine. Thought to share here too

Been thinking this ridiculous Sterek Omegaverse idea.

You know how omega produce slick when they're in heat? What about something similar with alphas.

When they are close to their rut, male alpha start to produce a heavy amount of cum to ensure the breeding of their partner. So their balls get big and heavy, full of cum to the point sometimes it hurts. Imagen they can't go out because there no clothes for it and also the pain.

And Derek, as an alpha werewolf, he has it worse. Those big breeding balls, full of cum to keep stuffed a beautiful omega.

He always suffered his rut. Because never find a correct partner. Or they wanted something from him or never felt right. Also his balls get bigger that mostly other alphas, even after his rut. So has to stay in his house for days. His body aching for a mate.

Until he finds Stiles.

And @sinqueen69 wrote a fic about it too. Especially with God!Derek, love that trope❤️‍🔥

The wolf god

#derek hale #stiles stilinski #alpha derek hale #derek is hung #and has big balls #omega stiles #omegaverse au #omegaverse ideas #derek being hung is my head #add size difference #and thats even perfect #sterek #my Sterek ideas #fic rec #fic recommendation #pwp fic #god derek hale #derek is big

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96crewlove · 3 months ago

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lesbians rahhh 🤲🏾🩷 link to the series below ⬇️

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godtier · 2 months ago

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henlo, megamans ppl, i come bearing two fanfics that tie into my overarching storyline that i started like 4 years ago sobs

(tho no... unfortunately neither of them are the second part because i'm still strugglin thru writing that one out... i'm gomen for anyone who cares)

first fic:

Title: Wherever That Wind Blows, the Destination Is the Same Canon: Megaman X Pairing: none, technically... pre-VAVA/Zero if u squint Summary: Set during the first Sigma-led Maverick Riot and part of the Rekindled fic series, VAVA contemplates the situation he's found himself in while Storm Eagle provides his own observations. They're not exactly wanted. This is basically picking up from where VAVA escapes from Zero's surprise attack at the very beginning of X1. It does tie into my main fic series, but it should be vague/general enough to be readable on its own!

Read it on Archive of Our Own!

second fic:

Title: Down the Beaten Path Canon: Megaman X Pairing: VAVA/Zero Summary: To put it bluntly, this is a "What-If" scenario I wrote as a PWP that takes place during the forest scenes in my fic Unsaid. It's basically just smut for the sake of smut and not canon to the series, so take it or leave it!! I'm not your mom!!

Read it on Archive of Our Own!

lmk what you think! feel free to reblog or w/e! it's been a hot min since i've made content for the fandom (even tho this is just OTP brainrot.....) so i hope someone out there likes it!

#fanfiction #fanfic #megaman x #rockman x #zero #vava #vava/zero #vile/zero #vile megaman x #zero megaman x #pwp fic #gen fic #archive of our own #ao3 #text post #my writing

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pleathewrites · 8 months ago

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bellow the fire into my deadened lungs

chapter 2 excerpt — dabihawks first time read full story here

The second the door shuts with Shouto and Natsuo’s leave, Touya pushes the hero towards his bedroom and pounces on him, causing Keigo to fall back onto his bed with an, “oof!”

Touya swallows Keigo’s laughter and pulls at the hem of the hero’s shirt, rucking it up to mouth at the tanned skin of his sternum. Keigo moans and arches his back, quickly taking off his shirt and pressing his feathers along the healthy skin his hands don’t reach, talons slightly biting into the flesh of Touya’s thighs.

Keigo’s hands slide up to squeeze Touya’s ass, appreciating the fat that’s accumulated on the scarred man’s body from eating regularly this past month. Keigo groans at the give and moves one hand to grip at Touya’s waist — the soft squish of Touya’s belly makes heat tingle at the base of Keigo’s spine.

Touya pulls back to fully look at Keigo. The way Keigo’s chest shines with his spit, glints in the dim light around the darker marks made by his own teeth, makes Touya bite his lip.

“Touya, c’mere,” Keigo mumbles, the hands at Touya’s thighs and waist pulling him over to meet Keigo’s open mouth, the hero's tongue sliding inside and lighting the kerosene that sits behind Touya’s teeth.

Touya grinds down with purpose, slow and heavy for the hero to feel his consuming desire. Keigo’s moan vibrates against Touya’s mouth, down his throat, and he works his hips again, desperate for Keigo’s sound.

"Feels like someone's happy to see me, hm?" When Keigo smiles, his golden eyes molt into the only heat that Touya feels will never hurt him.

Touya wants Keigo to want him, to need him, just as badly as he does.

He grips golden locks between scarred palms and licks a stripe from the edge of Keigo's jaw up his stubbled cheek.

Keigo’s sharp inhale against Touya’s ear makes his skin hot, and it has nothing to do with his quirk. When Touya feels a taloned hand start to creep inside the bottom of his borrowed shorts and feels cool air graze the bared skin of his ass before the almost burning heat of Keigo’s palm grabbing one of his cheeks fully, a moan spills from his lips and his head falls to the crook of Keigo’s neck.

Keigo’s hand fondles his asscheek, jiggling the meat of it before giving it a light spank, and it makes Touya laugh, “You're ridiculous, Birdy.”

Keigo turns his head to smirk at Touya, “You’ve got a really cute ass,” punctuating his statement with another firm squeeze.

Touya groans at the tease of Keigo's talons scraping at his most secret parts, “Then do somethin’ ‘bout it.”

He bites down at the juncture between Keigo’s neck and shoulder and feels the shudder that wracks through the hero’s body. He presses his smile into the skin before sucking hard.

He feels a soft and fringed pressure start to trail under his shirt and up to his chest, “Hm?” the hero playfully muses as two red feathers firmly press down against Touya’s nipples and cause the man to gasp at the pleasure that zings through his spine, “Do something… Like what?”

The feathers start to move, light circles at first before alternating to firm sweeps, causing Touya’s hips to shake into Keigo’s hard length and unrelenting grip.

Touya’s cock starts to weep, a few spots of damp stickiness stamped into the front fabric of his shorts.

His spine arched, belly sliding against the hero’s tight core. He stretches his neck to run his tongue along Keigo’s earlobe, nipping just a bit under the hero’s black stud, “Fuck me.”

Keigo’s cock twitches under Touya’s own, and they both moan.

When Touya looks at Keigo’s flushed face, he sees those molten honey eyes have widened into wonder. Keigo’s hand leaves his ass to cup his face, “You sure?” Keigo asks against his mouth.

Touya bites his scarred lip and moves back to sit on Keigo’s thighs as he takes off his shirt.

Keigo’s heart blooms in his chest. Touya never takes his shirt off.

Keigo surges up to kiss the scarred man hard.

He sends his feathers to fetch necessary supplies, his own hands cupping Touya’s bare tits, thumbing over puffy nipples, and drinking in every single sound that leaves Touya’s lips. He trails his mouth down Touya’s neck, kissing every staple within sight and whispering utter devotion into stitched skin — ‘so good, so fuckin' beautiful, baby, you're gonna look so fuckin’ good on my cock, so fucking pretty in my hands, Touya, fuck, thank you, thank you, Touya…’

His teeth scrape a pebbled nipple, and there’s no hesitation before he takes it into his mouth, savoring the velvet feel against his tongue, the pliant give between his bite.

Touya starts to shake all over. His trembles feel glorious under Keigo’s hands, the vibrations against clinging feathers making the hero borderline delirious.

There’s absolute filth spilling out of Keigo’s mouth, dirty promises to take Touya higher than anything he could ever shoot up his veins, and it makes Touya so fucking hot.

No one has ever made Touya feel this way, like he’s about to be pulled apart by his very own seams — so utterly worshiped, so deliciously lewd.

It’s not until he hears the unmistakable sound of something ripping that he registers that Keigo’s talons have shredded Touya’s shorts to tatters.

He's so sensitive, even just the air against his hole brings him to the edge.

“Fuck,” Touya sighs helplessly as Keigo’s mouth bites a trail to his other nipple. “Kei,” He grips onto blond hair tightly and squeezes the man’s shoulder, needing something to occupy his hands just to deal with the tension.

A soft pressure nudges at the hand Touya grips Keigo’s shoulder with. When Touya focuses on looking in that direction, he sees a curled feather carrying a bottle of lube. He opens his hand to engulf both the feather and bottle before maneuvering the objects around a bit until the feather is held between his thumb and middle finger, the lube secure within the cup of his palm.

Touya slips his fingers free from blond locks and slides them down until they curve around Keigo’s strong jaw, urging the hero’s attention away from Touya's chest. Mischievous gold eyes hold slow contact with Touya’s own as Keigo bites down, sending another zing of hot pleasure down Touya's spine, before slowly easing back and pulling Touya’s nipple taut between his teeth. Touya moans and sucks in a gasp when Keigo lets go, feeling a blurt of his precome smear onto Keigo’s stomach.

Keigo smirks.

Touya's eyes narrowed before giving his own slow, devious smile, “How sensitive are your feathers?”

Keigo’s eyes flicker to the feather held between Touya’s two fingers before looking back at him, “Why?”

Touya gathers a pool of heated saliva on his tongue before bringing the feather to his lips and opening his mouth wide, sticking out his tongue, and giving the feather a full and languid lick.

Keigo’s pupils dilate and his spine goes ramrod straight, hands squeezing Touya’s waist so tightly, “Shit.”

Keigo feels every single hot centimeter of Touya's tongue, every slick groove and soft ridge slithering up the hero’s spine and tingling down to his toes.

The reaction causes Touya to smile so fully — pearly whites and pink tongue and glinting stud. Keigo momentarily blanks with how fucking pretty Touya is when he smiles like that.

That pretty smile closes, both rows of blinding teeth disappearing behind two-toned lips closing over the top half of Keigo’s feather, staple-lined cheeks hollowing out with a firm suck.

Keigo’s head falls in a groan, forehead pressing into Touya’s collarbone, “Fuck, you're so hot,” and he means that both figuratively and literally because he can feel the heat of Touya’s mouth, how wet it is and how soft the man’s tongue is around that fucking piercing.

Touya moans around the feather, and the sensation overwhelms Keigo — the feeling of being physically inside Touya makes Keigo feel absolutely wild.

Keigo looks up to memorize the scene, thumbing Touya’s plump bottom lip, "One day, I'm gonna push my cock between this gorgeous mouth of yours," He promises.

In desperation, his hands slide down to Touya’s ass and squeeze the cheeks tightly, pulling them out to welcome Touya's tight heat to the home they've built these past two months within Keigo's safehouse. He uses his grip to bring the scarred man down and grind their cocks together.

He wills the feather in Touya's mouth to press down against the man's tongue and rub against the muscle the way his own tongue would.

The feeling of the feather moving against Touya’s tongue is extremely foreign to him but it feels so good. Touya moans again, making out with Keigo's feather to get blond’s spine to twitch like before.

Keigo groans and once again pulls Touya’s asscheeks apart, wider this time, before letting go and reveling in the smack they make when the flesh collides back together. When he does it again, he doesn’t let go, keeping one globe of flesh in each hand. “Touch yourself,” He begs, running a light and careful fingerpad across Touya’s bare hole, reveling in the flutter of puckered flesh when his talon dangerously grazes just underneath, “Please.”

Touya frantically nods, his chest heaving and hands fumbling to open the bottle and coat his fingers before reaching back and spreading the lube. He exhales a sigh at the feeling, and the feather on his tongue wiggles.

As Touya works his fingers in and sucks on the feather, Keigo takes to hooking his chin over Touya’s shoulder to watch, keeping the scarred man's cheeks apart and using his hold to grind against him.

It all feels so good, Touya wonders if he’ll be able to hold out. From the two fingers he's now thrusting in and out of his hole, to Keigo’s warm body and length grinding up into his own, his feather fucking his tongue, Touya feels the tell-tale pressure building quickly at the base of his spine and spread throughout his groin.

Keigo moves back to watch it all.

Seeing the way Touya moves above him, the circles Touya’s hips make, and the way his neck dangles back and to the side in pleasure makes something inside Keigo release, and he wants to be a part of everything that makes Touya feel good.

Touya feels Keigo’s left hand slightly pinch the flesh of his asscheek, causing him to yelp in surprise. He looks at the man to say something, but when Keigo brings that hand to his mouth and fucking bites the talons of his index and middle finger clean off, he can only gape.

Keigo takes advantage of Touya’s open mouth to rise up and thrust his own tongue down Touya's throat, alongside the feather, and both feather and tongue move against Touya’s own. Touya's whining keen is such a delight to be felt by both.

Touya feels Keigo’s arm wiggle between their bodies, under his spread legs, and when two wet fingers thicker than his own start to trace around his rim and touch his own thrusting fingers, he gasps and Keigo removes the feather from Touya’s mouth to the head of his weeping cock.

Keigo’s middle finger slides in alongside Touya’s own two and the wet feather rubs against the piercing that goes around Touya’s cockhead through his frenulum.

‘Of fucking course he’s pierced there,’ Sometimes, Keigo can’t even believe Touya is real.

Touya moans so loudly — his mouth opens wide and his voice cracks with the pitch of his throat. The staples at his cheeks strain.

Keigo smiles against those open lips, sucks the bottom in his own mouth, “Mmm,” and he bites at the scarred lip as he crooks his finger, feeling the way Touya’s mouth moves around pleasured whines, “That’s it, baby. Ride my fingers, just like that.”

Touya can’t help but pull Keigo in for another kiss, his body being wound up so tightly by this wonderful, wonderful man that he needs to express it, somehow, in any way he can. He sucks on Keigo’s tongue, presses the thumb of his free hand into Keigo's jaw, and curls his fingers into the short blond hair at the nape of Keigo’s neck — the way Keigo likes it, the way that makes him whine and groan into Touya’s working mouth.

Touya pulls back slightly and starts to tug at the waistband of Keigo’s sweats, “I can’t believe you did that,” He marvels, referring to the way Keigo had bit off two of his talons just so he could finger Touya open, “Fuck, doesn’t it hurt?”

“Worth it,” Keigo grins, a little smug as he uses his strength to slightly lift both him and Touya up in assistance to finally push down his sweats enough for his hard cock to literally bob out and smack his stomach. Touya sighs at the sight of it, and Keigo uses that moment to push his second finger in, causing Touya’s sigh to pitch up into a mewl.

Keigo curls his two fingers, and Touya’s back goes taut as a bowstring, “Keigo — !”

Keigo begins to fuck his fingers roughly into Touya’s wet hole, hitting that sweet spot over and over and over again, feeling the bumps and ridges of Touya’s own lax and slender fingers. The sounds that spill out of Touya’s pretty two-toned lips make the sweetest melody Keigo has ever heard.

Keigo wants to hear this song for the rest of his life.

The sight of Touya’s quivering body and heaving chest makes Keigo groan into Touya’s puffy nipple, taking it into his mouth with an audible suck before grabbing Touya’s waist with the hand that was clutching his ass. Keigo stretches and tilts his neck to speak straight into Touya’s ear, “D’you wanna cum?”

Touya shakes his head, and Keigo feels his slender fingers move out his hole, “No, n-not yet.”

Touya wipes off his fingers somewhere along the duvet before pushing Keigo’s shoulder until the hero’s back hits the mattress.

Touya hums as he crowds over Keigo, the change in angle pushing Keigo’s fingers even deeper against his spot. He sighs so lovely when he lolls his head back as his hips swivel and grind into them.

Keigo is so gone for him, "You're fuckin' stunnin’, love."

Touya props a hand on Keigo's chest, his heavy-lidded stare making Keigo dizzy.

Touya drags his hand down Keigo’s chest, his abdomen, scratches at the tuft of blond hair over Keigo’s pelvis before his thumb starts to circle the wet head of Keigo’s cock, watching the way Keigo’s pretty platinum lashes flutter at direct stimulation after so long, “Gods, how do you even look like that.” Touya uses the precum that’s already gathered and dripped down Keigo’s shaft to slide his fingers around it firmly, varying pressure and heat. He watches the hero’s expression at every touch and spits a thick wad of heated saliva onto the tip.

“Shit, Touya,” He loves Touya’s hands but he didn’t know their heat could be used to make him feel so good, twisting at the base and squeezing his cockhead. His mind goes fuzzy with what Touya will feel like inside, “You’re killin’ me here,” because Keigo doesn’t know how long he’ll last with those heavily lidded eyes, half-blazing blue framed by snow-white lashes, glued to him like that.

Touya smiles, and Keigo’s heart skips a beat before he crooks his fingers meanly, making those beautiful blue eyes widen with a gasp. Touya bends down to bite at Keigo’s jaw, “Want you to fuck me,” and digs a nail into the slit of Keigo’s cock as he pants, “Right now.”

Keigo groans, gently pulling his fingers out of Touya’s hole, cleaning them off in the similar manner Touya had, and fumbling with his feathers to scramble a condom on.

He smooths his hands down Touya’s body and pulls until the villain lies directly on top of him, wrapping his arms around Touya’s frame fully and kissing those two-toned lips with a tenderness he feels they’ve skipped out on this whole time.

The reverent slide of Keigo’s lips against his own simmers the boiling need that had been threatening to spill over within Touya. The warm press brings him back from the haze of seemingly insatiable lust and makes Touya feel like he has all the time in the world to learn the man under him.

Keigo pulls back, “How do you want me?” and he smooths his hand over Touya’s back in soothing motions, and Touya has an urge to stretch out like a cat.

Touya bites his lip and thinks about it, thinking about what he wants to feel and what he wants Keigo to feel. He has a feeling Keigo really wants to see his face, but Touya is starting to feel a little bit too exposed and needs a safe space. On the other hand, he wants to feel the hero completely surround him, go as deep as he can go, and touch wherever taloned hands covet in the moment.

He moves off of Keigo to lie on his side with his elbow hoisting his upper body up and uses his free hand to grab Keigo’s arm and pull it over his waist, the heat of Keigo’s skin immediately warming his own, “Like this?” He looks over his shoulder and raises his eyebrow.

Keigo lets out a satisfied hum and begins to get comfortable, reaching behind him to grab a pillow and stuff it where Touya’s head would lay before sliding his own arm under Touya’s neck and curling it around his shoulders. This way, Touya’s lower half remains sideways whereas his upper body has the mobility of either resting on his back to face Keigo or turning on his side to face the wall.

Touya likes the versatility.

Keigo pressed a kiss to Touya’s cheek, “Anything you don’t want, love?”

Touya’s aquamarine eyes meet Keigo’s with a trust that makes Keigo’s heart flutter tenfold, “Just don’t pull my hair. You can touch it, play with it, whatever, but not… like the way I do it to you.”

Keigo pushes Touya’s hips slightly forward, his large wing coming around to surround their bodies in an open cocoon, the feathers at the end dancing around the twinkling jewelry of Touya’s pierced navel, “Got it, Hot Stuff.”

He grabs the meat at the back of Touya’s inner thigh to spread him wide, pulling Touya's leg over his hip, and slides right in.

Keigo’s pelvis presses against the tops of Touya’s asscheeks and his cock is nestled so deep.

They both groan.

The all-encompassing heat around Keigo is absolutely maddening, and Keigo’s cock hits all of Touya’s right places.

Touya encouragingly moves his hips back with a whimper, and Keigo sighs in his ear, “Oh, Touya. You’re so fuckin’ lovely like this.”

The dam breaks.

Keigo’s hands are everywhere; squeezing Touya's tits, pressing into his belly, smoothing over his balls, and touching where they both connect, occasionally slipping a finger alongside Keigo's cock to hear Touya whine and feel the hitch of his breath through devoted feathers. Keigo uses the hand under Touya’s neck to smooth back his dampened bangs and kiss his smooth forehead, turn his jaw to capture his mouth and suck on his tongue. Keigo clasps his hand gently around Touya’s delicate throat — not choking but just enough pressure to remind Touya that Keigo is here, with him, around him, on him, in him.

When Touya comes, it’s with Keigo’s name on his lips, Keigo’s spit in his mouth, and feathers wrung tight around his thighs. It’s the look of Touya’s expression when he orgasms, his upturned brows and open mouth, that tips Keigo over the edge, too.

They stay like that for a moment, connected and dazed in the afterglow, with Touya’s hand buried in Keigo’s hair and Keigo's talons pressing into the meat of Touya’s chest.

When the haze finally clears, Keigo gently pulls out and rolls to collapse on his back, breathing heavily, “Wow. Fuck.”

Touya snorts, he can’t help but agree, “Yeah.”

He rolls to his other side and curls up against Keigo, folding an arm over the blond’s sweaty chest while red feathers scoop as much of the mess off Touya’s stomach before they float off to the sink.

“Rest, Kei. Put your feathers down and relax.”

Keigo winds an arm around Touya’s shoulders, “This is the most relaxed I’ve been in years,” before he uses a hand to press taloned fingers against Touya’s jaw and angle his head up, “We’re definitely doing that again. Gimme, like, ten minutes.”

Keigo catches Touya’s laugh in his mouth, and as he slowly kisses the hero, Touya thinks that if this is his last night of freedom, then he’s okay with it.

read full story here

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ummrys · 1 month ago

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she's using her hands (she's pulling the levers)

complete | 2.2k | one shot | explicit

• wlw buddie smut

• part two in 'i want this like a cigarette'

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chupiicho · 26 days ago

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Ferdibert Office AU Fic

Office AU -- I imagine their relationship level is ~B Support

18+

What was he here for again? Hubert can't think. It was sticky notes? Or was it another stapler… staples? What is a stapler anyway? He supposes it doesn’t matter. He’ll remember soon enough.

If one thing was certain, he didn’t come into the supplies closet looking for Ferdinand.

“Why are you here?” Ferdinand asks.

“Are you dense? I’m looking for supplies.”

Ferdinand rolls his eyes. “You know what I mean, it’s almost 9PM. You should go home so I don’t see you if I don’t need to.”

Their other colleagues had left the office at five o’clock. The evening cleaners were gone too. Hubert thought he was alone, hearing nothing but the clicking of his keyboard and the soft patter of the rain outside. Since Ferdinand sat at the opposite end of the office, Hubert didn’t realize he decided to stay late too.

“I need to access the shelf behind you, Aegir.”

“Can’t you wait outside? There isn’t enough space in here for two people.”

“Stop being difficult,” Hubert says. “I just need to refill the printer, it’s out of cyan.”

His hair is softer than expected. So are his lips -- not that Hubert actually ever thought about kissing Ferdinand, but now that it’s happening he wonders why he never thought of it before. Usually he wanted that mouth to keep shut, but as his hands go from tugging on his ponytail to running down down down Ferdinand’s sides and around to grasp his ass, he’ll mark this down as the first time Hubert is pleased when his mouth opens to moan.

“I’m serious,” Ferdinand says. “It’s cramped in here.”

“Just move to the side.”

“Hey, watch out” --Ferdinand must have forgotten they hate each other if he’s thinking about his well-being-- “you’re gonna hurt yourself if you trip over--”

Ferdinand flips them around so Hubert’s the one with his back pushed against the shelf. Fingers hook into his belt loops, drags his body closer, and then Ferdinand begins grinding.

This is Ferdinand, Hubert thinks. He’s the one who wouldn’t move out of the way of the toner. He should be home doing whatever he does out of office, making dinner or whatever, not distracting him in the supplies closet so he can’t get any work done. This is Ferdinand, and out of everyone who worked in this building he shouldn’t be the one who makes Hubert’s mind fuzzy and makes his blood rush south and whose body he’s pushing back against, whose little gasps against his neck shouldn’t make heat curl in his gut--

Ferdinand gets on his knees.

It seems they have both lost their minds, Hubert knows this much, especially when Ferdinand begins placing slow, small kisses to the front of Hubert’s pants until he’s hard enough to mouth over the tent, and then his tongue darts out to drag slowly up the fly.

If he doesn’t get on with it, Hubert is sure he’s about to come in his pants from the sight alone. Somehow Ferdinand seems to know because his hands suddenly go to undo his belt, and push his clothing down to bundle around his knees. His cock springs free and -- oh, it slaps against Ferdinand’s cheekbone and he flinches (slightly, only slightly, but enough to notice). Hubert commits the image to memory; it may be the only time he’ll ever get to see it.

Ferdinand licks a strip across his palm and grabs the base of Hubert’s cock. Then he brings his opened mouth to the tip, and when he presses the flat of his tongue against the head, Hubert’s hand shoots to the top of Ferdinand’s head to thread through the base of his ponytail.

If there was a universe where they got along, Hubert thinks when he makes small thrusts into Ferdinand’s mouth to test the limits, they wouldn't need to have quick blow jobs after office hours between dusty reams of paper and broken keyboards. He wouldn’t need to keep half his mind on the sound of the pens rattling in their holders with every thrust, trying not to bump back too hard and have the contents of the shelves spilling over them. He wouldn’t need to be wary of anyone passing by the door (even though he knows they’re the only two left in the building he’s still cautious), but they could be touching each other -- doing more, without rush but with real privacy.

Ferdinand was actually a genius at fixing the printer, maybe if they got along he wouldn’t need to keep cursing the damn machine and could save himself half an hour just by asking for help.

His thrusts become deeper.

“Aegir,” Hubert manages to say, nearly breathless. His fingers tighten in Ferdinand’s hair and he pulls his head down as his hips move up.

Ferdinand’s hand goes from gripping Hubert’s cock to around the front of his thigh. Then he pulls off slightly until just the head is in his mouth and breathes deeply, then pushes forward until he’s taking every inch into his throat and his nose is pressing into the hair there.

Ferdinand is so pretty -- the complete opposite of himself. Maybe that's why he dislikes him so much since they seemed too different to ever get along. But looking at him now, on his knees with Hubert's length heavy on his tongue, cheeks hollowed, and his other hand stroking himself, he thinks maybe he should give him a chance. Maybe he’ll buy him lunch one day as a peace offering, then he wouldn’t feel so mad at himself for succumbing to whatever feeling he’s been pushing away.

When he pulls on his hair to take him off from sucking his cock, Ferdinand’s tongue peeks out from between his wet lips to swipe at the air as if wanting him back. When he looks up and their eyes meet, with his cheeks red and hair mussed instead of in its usually neat ponytail, Hubert thinks this is the prettiest he has ever seen him.

His hand starts tugging at the both of them, making Hubert’s hips twitch while Ferdinand thrusts lightly into his own palm. The slick sound of his hand as it works its way up and down his length, and his open mouth waiting for whatever Hubert has to give--

When his grip tightens again in copper hair, Ferdinand sticks his tongue out. Hubert’s hips thrust forward away from the shelf for the last time, and his breath shudders as he comes, spurts of white landing on Ferdinand’s tongue. When he leans back against the shelf, he watches as Ferdinand’s throat bobs when he swallows. Just another image Hubert supposes he will need to commit to memory.

Ferdinand’s cheeks are still flushed. His lips are wet and red. He’s definitely going to need to redo his ponytail before they leave, and Hubert wonders how he’ll accomplish that with his own come sticky between his fingers. All Hubert can think is I did that to him.

"Not a word about this, Vestra."

Ferdinand's voice is rough, but he feels no better -- at least he can still speak while Hubert is slack-jawed and speechless. He nods in agreement, but Hubert is certain he’ll buy Ferdinand lunch one day.

#ferdibert #ferdibert office au #pwp fic #lemon fic #fic #wrote this years ago too and just archiving don't mind me

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my-hot-awkward-turian-boyfriend · 1 year ago

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6k words | rated E | me1 canon divergence |

explicit sexual content | mind the tags |

#mass effect #shakarian #fanfic #ao3 #pwp fic

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anaisanais-stuff · 13 days ago

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“Soo,” Isak smirks. “Are you just gonna sit there and watch, or?”

It’s a good phrase. Tried and tested. Usually snaps Even right out of watching him and into fucking him instead, but tonight, Even’s smile just turns devilish.

“I am actually, yeah.”

Are you just gonna sit there and watch?

Ship: Isak/Even

Rating: E

Wordcount: 1630

#anaisanais writes #skam fanfic #evak fic #pwp fic

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96crewlove · 6 months ago

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jjk manga a hot ass mess here's lesbians 🤲🏾

link to the the series below ⬇️

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fanfictiongreenirises · 9 months ago

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Rating: Explicit

Summary:

It was impossible how even their most mundane days would fill him to the brim with contentment.

my first fic for @zcxevents's ZhanChengXian Valentine's!!

please read the tags before reading the fic!! this is smut!!

#zhanchengxian #jiang cheng #lan wangji #wei wuxian #zcxvalentines #zhanchengxianvalentines #mdzs fic #iris writes #pwp fic

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summonerluna · 7 months ago

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Gratuitous Xu/Seifer smut for @irishais

#i have no idea where all this writing motivation is coming from #but i am trying to squeeze as much out of it as i can while it lasts #fic #giftfic #pwp fic #xu #seifer almasy #xu/seifer #final fantasy viii

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chupiicho · 26 days ago

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Superhero AU Fic

Rundown of this Superhero AU: - Ferdinand's identity is public (being a superhero is his job) - Hubert is a villain who uses magic to hide his identity, but his civilian job is a journalist - Hubert uses darkness for his powers, Ferdinand uses the light (so original, woow) - For fun, this is just an nsfw fic (and before they catch any real feelings for each other)

Top!Hubert/Bottom!Ferdinand

18+

---

His back slams into a wall, and Ferdinand’s body breaks into the abandoned steel mill. The dust plumes above him into a cloud, and it sticks into his hair and in his throat when he gasps from the impact. Then he coughs, spits the blood between his teeth onto the concrete floor, and gets back up from the debris.

Dark Bishop is not going to get away with this.

“Ferdinand, Fodlan’s most beloved hero,” Dark Bishop drawls, stepping through the new break in the wall. The tips of his fingers glow purple as they charge more magic to strike with. “They’ll need to find a replacement, though, since you will die tonight.”

“No one’s dying tonight.”

“No need to be so noble,” he replies. The purple glow flows up to his palms, and begins to swirl into a sphere. “Why deal with life and death if you aren’t ready to pay for it?”

Ferdinand grits his teeth. If only there was more light right now that he could absorb, but it’s night and they're in the outskirts of the city where even the streetlamps barely flicker. Dark Bishop would be easier to handle if his own powers weren’t dampened.

“I can’t,” Ferdinand says. “I’m not—”

“Willing or able?” he interrupts. “Nothing but a pawn, aren’t you? If they didn’t sign your cheques I wonder what you’d do?”

“The same thing — take you down.”

I’m still quick, Ferdinand thinks, and I still have my strength. He clenches a fist and takes a long leap toward the other man just as he aims another burst of dark magic. It works, and Dark Bishop brings his hand back down so he can dodge instead of attack.

But Ferdinand’s fist misses. Then a small, powerful blast of magic hits him from the side and makes him skid across the concrete floor over the broken glass, forcing him deeper into the abandoned mill until his back collides with a rusting furnace.

He manages to stand up despite his head feeling as if it's swimming, and when he puts a hand to his forehead Ferdinand immediately regrets the single second of respite as his vision is covered in darkness. His arms are quickly pinned against the furnace, and when he tries to break free the grip on his wrists tighten.

“Wonder if you’ll get out of this one this time,” Dark Bishop says.

It's almost routine at this point. They’ve been in this situation countless times before, either Ferdinand or Dark Bishop with their backs pressing up against a wall and trapped in by the other. Each time someone manages to barely squeeze out of the hold — but Ferdinand’s powers are extremely low tonight, nearly used up from a fight earlier in the evening.

Maybe this will be the first time he doesn’t.

But he doesn’t let that show. “Of course I will,” he says, and hopes he fakes enough confidence in his voice to sound believable. “You know I always do.”

Dark Bishop smirks. His fingers begin to glow purple again. “I’d like to see you try.”

There’s tingling in his wrists as the magic builds, and Ferdinand begins trying to wrestle out of the grip. He can’t give up.

He looks around. The windows are broken and uncovered, but the sky is cloudy and the moon is obscured; there isn't enough light to aid him. There are no streetlamps near either, none that work anyway, and he thinks Dark Bishop must have picked this place on purpose.

He looks more immediately around. Rusted, twisted metal pipes and broken wires. He could try to cause a distraction, just enough to startle the other man so he would loosen his grip, but how, and would he even fall for it? Or would he only manage to damage an already crumbling building? His wrists begin to heat, and he realizes he’s losing time. What about closer? He looks down on the floor — can the broken glass help him? The dusty, discarded hardhat? Or—

Ferdinand's face goes red and he gasps. "W-wait."

He tries to shift in place, but realizes his ankles, too, are bound by shadow-like chains.

“Really? That’s the best you can come up with?”

Ferdinand glares at the other man. “It’s my suit,” he says. “It’s…”

Dark Bishop looks down between them and raises an eyebrow. “Oh.”

There is a tear in his suit that begins near his hip and goes upward toward his chest. The opening is wide enough to expose enough skin to make Ferdinand self-conscious, and he knows if he keeps fighting in a room littered with shards of glass and jagged metal it may very well tear his outfit to shreds.

“Don’t look,” Ferdinand says instinctively. The end of the tear by his hip is dangerously close to revealing more of himself than he wants. He has ruined suits before, but he’s always been lucky that the rip wasn’t around anywhere that made him embarrassed.

“Really, Ferdinand? You’re worried about propriety in this situation?”

“Just don’t look,” he repeats again. “It’s embarrassing.”

“Then where would you rather have me look?” But Dark Bishop doesn’t wait for an answer, his gaze already back to meeting Ferdinand’s own.

His face flushes even deeper from Dark Bishop’s stare. He has green eyes? Ferdinand thinks. He’s never been able to see them this close before.

The clouds in the night sky drift away, casting streams of moonlight across the mill’s floor. His eyes trail again to the broken window. A full moon. Some of its light touches Ferdinand’s hands still held against the furnace. Good. Natural light is the quickest, strongest type he can absorb; he needs just a little longer and he might have enough strength to wrestle his way out of this mess.

But he may not need it, he realizes, when the tingling of magic on his skin begins to fade and the grip around his wrists starts to ease. Ferdinand looks back to Dark Bishop, his face still a mere few inches away from his own.

Finally, Dark Bishop quickly releases his grip, though his open hands still hover over Ferdinand's wrists.

"You can go, if you want."

He can leave. Slip away into the night. Ferdinand can use the moonlight to fly home, throw away his ruined suit and ask for a new one. Take a shower to get the sweat off his skin and the dirt from his hair.

But he didn’t become a hero to give up so easily.

"What about you?" Ferdinand asks. "Are we still fighting?"

"I've already won," Dark Bishop says, "you've lost your will to fight."

As angry as that makes him, Ferdinand can't find the words to form a reply. He guesses he really has lost his spark.

But another type of spark ignites inside and he tries to put it out. The longer Dark Bishop lingers, the more he notices things about the man that makes Ferdinand want to stare. He’s never seen green eyes quite as piercing as his. Unfortunately he won’t recognize his face after this, even as much as Ferdinand tries to remember what he looks like right now; Dark Bishop must use some type of spell to obscure his identity — the memory of his face will be as clear as a dream he suddenly needs to wake from.

“Are you going?” Dark Bishop asks.

He finally finds his words again. “I can’t just leave,” he responds. “I need to stop you.”

“And if I comply?”

Ferdinand shakes his head. “I can’t trust you on that.”

“I’m a villain, not a liar.”

It's true, he's never known Dark Bishop to outright lie — at least to him. Like the one time Ferdinand solved his stupid little riddle and got the password to disabling a device from turning off the city's entire power. Sometimes Ferdinand wondered if he was a villain to be annoying or if there was a larger plan at work.

But now wasn't the time to dwell on that. He can leave, Ferdinand reminds himself again. Dark Bishop isn't a liar. The chains around his ankles are gone, the grip around his wrists slackened.

“So why can’t I move?” Ferdinand’s voice is a near whisper. “What have you done?”

“I’m not doing anything,” Dark Bishop responds in an equally low voice. His hands — they move from hovering over his wrists and go down slowly so Ferdinand’s eyes can track its movements, and they end as a grip on his hips.

There’s no magic in this touch but he feels that spark again.

He finally has the ability to move, and he lowers his arms from against the furnace so he can place his hands over Dark Bishop’s own, whose thumbs are running small circles over Ferdinand’s hips.

They must be thinking the same thing as they both start moving slowly to not startle the other in this… truce, shuffling their feet so they can slot their legs and eventually their bodies closer together. Ferdinand looks up again to meet Dark Bishop's gaze, and then to his mouth. Ferdinand licks his own lips.

Slowly they lean in — still a little scared, still a little nervous of rejection in a moment of clarity, maybe a hidden motive. Ferdinand closes his eyes but keeps half his mind al‍ert (just in case, just in case), but when their lips finally meet the thoughts melts away.

It's only one long, soft kiss — nothing more than just a press of their lips together. But, it's a kiss that still makes Ferdinand's heart beat faster, makes his skin hot. And when they break apart Ferdinand immediately needs to ask.

"Why?"

Dark Bishop's thumb plays along the edge of the rip in Ferdinand's suit. "Seems I've lost the fight, too."

Ferdinand — that does it, he takes Dark Bishop's hand, the one playing around the edge of the rip on his suit — and guides it underneath. His hand immediately begins exploring skin, and he watches the outline of his hand underneath the fabric traveling across his stomach and his hips until he begins to slowly climb higher up. The leather glove is soft against him, and he shivers when fingers go up to his chest and brushes against his nipple.

It isn’t right — but it doesn’t feel wrong, either. If he really thinks about it, distracting Dark Bishop is to his advantage since the sun would be coming up over the horizon in just over an hour. His own powers would start to grow when the other’s will start to wane.

Besides, he wants this. He can admit that now. And if the growing outline in Dark Bishop's pants is anything to go by he wants this too.

Another brush against his nipple and Ferdinand sucks in a breath. Dark Bishop catches his lips in another stream of slow kisses, until Ferdinand grows impatient and opens his mouth to let the other man's tongue past his lips. Ferdinand's blood rushes south with each stroke against him, the outline of his length starting to press against the front of his suit. The other is hand traveling up his hip, his waist, to his chest.

“Oh…” Ferdinand eyes close when he feels his other nipple being rolled and pinched between fingers above the fabric of the suit.

Dark Bishop moves from his mouth to his jaw; he probably tastes like the salt of sweat and the chalk of flying debris they were just fighting in, but he keeps kissing and biting. The hand under his suit pulls out to move to Ferdinand’s mouth, and he licks the leather of the gloves, tasting the metallic cling of dark magic on two of his fingers. He allows them to push past his lips and swirls his tongue around, covering them in his saliva, treating them like he would if it was a dick in his mouth when he sucks.

You’re doing this, Ferdinand tries to tell himself in an unexpected moment of clarity, because the sun will be up soon. It has nothing to do with the way the heat curls low in his gut. Nothing to do with the length he strokes through Dark Bishop’s pants, nothing with how he wonders what it looks like heavy in his hand, with his fingers curled around its girth. It’s the sun he’s waiting for, that’s all. That familiar cast of orange in the sky that would give him the advantage.

And then those hands stop pinching and rolling his nipple, stops fucking his mouth with its fingers. Ferdinand wants them back on him and in him. He wants him so bad that he nearly begs for him to touch him all over his body again.

Then he feels his ass being squeezed. Ferdinand gasps — oh, absolutely. Yes. But.

"Do you have…" Ferdinand trails off, face suddenly red. Really? Is he about to ask this, of all things, while stroking his archenemy's cock through the fabric of his pants?

"I do," he replies against Ferdinand's throat. "Let me show you."

He hears murmuring in a language that sounds like nothing he knows. "What are you…?"

"Can you recall the fight we had by the abandoned distillery?"

"I remember," Ferdinand says. Dark Bishop had used a spell that covered the ground in a clear slime that Ferdinand slipped in. He landed hard on his backside against the pavement, and while thankful he has an impressively more durable body than most, the embarrassment he felt was as deep as anyone else. "That was unfair."

"And I won't apologize."

Ferdinand feels a hand massaging his ass again, something wet being rubbed into his suit until seeps through the fabric to touch his skin — ah, he knows this too well. "Is this…?"

“It is.” A kiss against the shell of his ear. "Now turn around.”

Ferdinand obeys, stops pawing at Dark Bishop's cock and turns so his palms are pressed flat against the furnace. Wasn't it just moments ago he was desperate to get out from underneath the other man? Funny how a little bit of time can change things.

There must be another rip in his suit he isn't aware of since he can feel Dark Bishop's gloves on his skin instead of through the fabric, and he bites on his bottom lip when a finger slips down the seam of his ass before pushing inside. He never took off his gloves, and Ferdinand nods his encouragement for him to keep going when he finds that knowledge makes the heat inside burn hotter.

He pushes in, pulls out. Pushes in and pulls out again. And then he says, “I can already tell how tight you’ll be, Ferdinand.”

He taps a foot against the inside of Ferdinand’s own feet so he knows to spread his legs wider, murmurs those same unintelligible words, and slicks his hole before pushing back inside two fingers thick.

Ferdinand brings the back of his hand up to his mouth when Dark Bishop begins to spread and curve his fingers. When he curves in at just the right angle, Ferdinand can’t help from clenching down around the fingers and moan. His now ragged breaths and gasps fill the silence of the empty mill, and so do the soft wet noises of Dark Bishop thrusting in again and again, pressing down on that spot that makes Ferdinand’s legs shake.

“Wait, please...” Ferdinand reaches a hand back to try and grab at the other man's arm. He is leaking precome through the fabric of his suit, and if he doesn’t stop with his fingers he’ll come from this instead of his cock.

Dark Bishop seems to understand. He pulls out and kicks away the debris beneath their feet so there’s a clearing for them. “Get down,” he says.

It’s easy for Ferdinand to obey when his knees are already weak. He props himself up by his forearms and raises his hips into the air. And then he hears Dark Bishop dropping down behind him, his hands are rubbing and squeezing more of the slick against the curve of his ass before receiving a light, wet smack against one of his cheeks.

Fabric is being torn.

“My suit…"

“Hush, it was already ruined,” Dark Bishop says. “Now keep steady.”

Ferdinand feels more of the cool night air against his skin from each drag of the fingers that stretch the holes in his suit larger. The ripping is almost too loud in the abandoned mill, louder than his own little breaths as he waits for Dark Bishop to ruin his clothing however he wants, but then — oh, he feels a small kiss to the nape of his neck as one final, long tug exposes his whole backside and his cock is unrestrained from the confines of the fabric.

“Are you ready?”

“Yes,” Ferdinand responds, and sways his hips a little to show just how ready he is. Behind him, Dark Bishop sucks in a breath as the grip on his hip tightens.

Ferdinand feels his cock sliding down the seam of his ass until the head stops against his hole, and then he is pushing against him until slowly it slips inside. Finally, Ferdinand thinks. Finally.

“Please, Dark Bishop.” Ferdinand exhales a shaking breath when he knows the last inch is inside, can feel the other man’s hips flush against his ass. But he isn’t moving yet.

Dark Bishop is rubbing his palms on his hips, and then takes a few deep, steadying breaths before he speaks. “Say Hubert.”

“Hubert?”

“Yes,” he hisses out. “Say that instead.”

It’s shallow still — just little thrusts pressing into Ferdinand, testing his reactions until they can both fit into a rhythm. But it isn’t long until they find one that they both fall into, and the mill no longer seems abandoned when it’s filled with the sound of skin-on-wet-skin.

“Hubert,” Ferdinand says, still testing the weight of the name on his tongue. He feels a harder thrust. He wants more. “H-Hubert.”

Ferdinand is rolling his hips back, chasing Dark Bishop’s — Hubert’s — cock, wants that fullness back every time he pulls away. A few more sharp thrusts ripple through his body to puncture Ferdinand's breathy little ah ah ah’s and then he feels a firm press on his backside as Hubert stays flush against his ass, moves his hips in a small circle.

“O-oh, yes—” A jolt of pleasure curls inside, and Ferdinand can't help but let out a long and low moan — again and again, and louder and longer — each time the head of Hubert's cock is pressing on his prostate.

"Hubert," he says again, reaching an arm back and grabbing a fistful of his cape, nodding yes to every thrust. "Don't stop, please. Please."

Hubert is panting. “Ferdinand, you’re so good around me—”

The grip on his hips is gone, and instead he notices Hubert tightening his hold onto his ruined suit like reins, and pulls his hips back when he slams forward. Ferdinand moans loudly.

Ferdinand can't feel the hard concrete against his knees when he feels Hubert's hips pressing against him, can't smell the old dust of the abandoned mill when he brings the cape up to his face and inhales the scent of Hubert instead. Can't even feel how wrong this is when Hubert feels too good inside of him, the only pounding he'll willingly take, the first time Ferdinand enjoys staying trapped underneath with his back turned toward Dark Bishop as he's driving his cock into his ass and pressing into the right spot inside.

What if the media… imagine if… Ferdinand can't even finish his own thoughts.

Above him Hubert is speaking. Ferdinand can't quite make out the words but only hears his low ragged voice, though it must be something good because his own grip on the cape suddenly tightens. "Hubert," he says, "I'm—"

“Do it for me, Ferdinand.” Hubert sounds absolutely breathless now. “Come while taking me deep inside you.”

A hand begins stroking his cock, and that does it.

“Hubert,” he cries out and his back arches as he’s coming across the floor, dripping over Hubert’s fingers around him while still chasing the cock thrusting inside.

It isn’t much longer until Hubert makes one final thrust and then stills, spilling inside him with a long, low moan. And when he pulls out, Ferdinand can feel a warm drip down the side of his thigh.

They both begin to catch their breaths. Ferdinand rolls over so he can sit with his back pressing against the furnace for support. He watches Hubert tuck himself away back into his pants, a little jealous that he doesn’t have the luxury to do that with his own clothing. He has to stare at the come still sticking on his skin, and that slime spell makes what little remains of his clothing from his waist down turn from opaque to translucent. Why did he choose white for his outfit?

Goddess, he is so tired now.

They remain sitting in the dark, breathing now normal, looking anywhere else but at each other. Now that his mind is clear, Ferdinand is surprised he doesn’t feel as embarrassed or regret-ridden as he would have thought. All he feels is just a little sore.

A chirping noise from the outside. Ah, an early bird, Ferdinand thinks. Wait — an early bird.

Their eyes finally meet once they realize the sun is almost upon them now.

“Ferdinand—”

“Hubert—”

They say at the same time, and stop for the other to continue. But there isn’t anything for Ferdinand to say, really, so he nods to let Hubert know he can continue to speak.

“You know, you never took my offer to leave,” Hubert says. He stands up from the floor. “I’ve still got some time. I can get back to my business.”

Alarms start going off in Ferdinand’s mind. Suddenly he isn’t tired anymore.

“Not if I’ll stop you,” Ferdinand says. About to stand up, he stops when he feels the come dripping down from his inner thigh. He is red in the face.

He can’t fight in this state. Not with his suit torn from the bottom and exposing all of himself. He will fight if he needs to, and the media frenzy afterward will be hell to navigate, but he'll make it up to his publicist somehow.

Hubert seems to understand his sudden hesitation, and he smirks. “Oh, will you?”

Ferdinand steels himself. “Yes.”

As he’s about to try and stand up again from the floor, a bind of magic keeps him on the ground. These shackles seem weak, though, and Ferdinand is sure with enough force he can break free of Hubert’s magic.

“Stay down,” Hubert commands. And then he latches off his cape, kneels down to lay it over him. There seems to be a calculation going on somewhere in Hubert’s mind when their eyes meet. “The sun will come up soon,” he says. He takes a lock of Ferdinand’s hair between his fingers and kisses it. “The magic imbued weakens with light. It seems I will need to wait.”

Hubert stands up and begins to walk away, and the binds holding Ferdinand to the ground dissipates. With his arms free again, Ferdinand bundles the cape closer to his body to cover more of himself, and this time notices the warm, spiced scent clinging to the fabric around the neckline. He didn’t know that Hubert wears cologne.

“Wait,” Ferdinand says, “your cape.”

“I’m lending it to you,” Hubert says. “Use it to get home. We can’t have Fodlan’s most beloved hero caught in a scandal now, can we?” He turns around just enough to sweep his gaze over Ferdinand. A smirk plays on Hubert’s lips. “Until we meet again.”

—

The lights directed at the podium, for once, seems too bright for Ferdinand. As much as it helps with his super powers, he is still human, and last night he was unable to get much sleep — not after all that had happened. He actually asked for a cup of coffee instead of tea this afternoon, and now his heart is beating too fast while his eyes still want to shut.

Still, he tries and smiles at the media before him, answering questions about the latest fight, giving a little speech about justice prevailing that he has memorized and changes up a little bit every time he gets the eventual ask of ‘why do you and your colleagues keep fighting against the villains of the world?’

“Your question?” Ferdinand asks, and points to a familiar face in the crowd. They’ve met each other quite a few times, one-on-one interviews and in rooms like this. He usually has pretty interesting questions to answer, different than most others.

“Howard Bestla with Adrestia City News,” he says. “So Ferdinand, how did you manage to defeat Dark Bishop?”

“It was rather engaging,” he says. Ah, a standard question this time. “I’m glad he decided to show up by the abandoned mills so I didn’t have to worry about any potential harm to civilian lives. In the end, though, he retreated after a long fight.”

Some of the reporters start jotting down extra notes on top of the recordings they are taking.

“Next question please.”

“Is that all?”

“Excuse me?”

“My apologies, my question was not finished.” Howard adjusts his glasses. “Could you provide us the details?”

The room is silent again as they wait for his response.

What to say? Ferdinand can still feel the ghost of Dark Bishop’s gloves on his skin, running under his torn suit. The pads of his thumbs running circles on the jut of his hips as he squeezed and slammed upward and in—

Ferdinand shifts at the podium. “I will need to consult with the Adrestia Heroics Department on the details I can provide as the investigation is still ongoing.”

He can see a few shoulders slump in the crowd at such a bland answer.

But Howard smiles. “Understandable. Thank you for taking my question.”

#ferdibert #ferdibert superhero au #pwp fic #fic #lemon fic #wrote this years ago and putting here for archival purposes

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