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goldenlikedayl1ght · 2 months

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...ready for it? - j.l. howlett

a/n: hi! here's a full version of a blurb i wrote a few days ago that got so much love so quick that i wanted to give yall a full version! the beginning is literally just the blurb but after that it's all new! like many of you wolverine brainrot has hit me hard, so here's graphic smut about him. leave a comment or a reblog if you enjoyed :) warnings: SMUT!!!!! some dumbification, use of pet names, reader is fem, reader is a mutant and able to control plants, lots of cursing, lots of grotesque fliritng/fantasies, some soft moments, some sort of primal sex, oral (fem receiving), some of the setting is probs inaccurate but whatever. let me know if i missed any big ones!! word count: 4.9 k summary: well, you had to find some way of entertaining yourself at charles xavier's school for gifted youngsters. and you have always liked an emotionally unavailable, absolutely hung, challenge. pairing: logan howlett x mutant!reader now playing: ...ready for it? - taylor swift "in the middle of the night, in my dreams/you should see the things we do, baby/in the middle of the night in my dreams/i know i'm gonna be with you, so i take my time"

You are absolutely enthralled with him. It’s actually sort of pathetic how your fingers twitch at the sight of him, at how the mention of his name or god forbid the sound of his voice makes your head snap up, attention deficit disorders be damned!

Funnily enough, you had no damn interest in Xavier’s stupid mutant school, because to you, you’re not an outsider because of your mutant abilities (that don’t have much of a physical apparition, at least one that you can’t hide) but because there’s never been much of a place for you to fit in.

But, you were behind on rent and of course, you fucking hate your job, so why not? You’d be able to be slightly less of a freak, and you’d get free room and board in the process! (Where Charles gets all of his money, you do not know.)

And because you’re a little older, Charles doesn’t force you to sit in a class room to learn about basic arithmetic and grammar lessons, so you really only do some training around three times a day, you have your own room (with a dusty box under the other bed, you also suspect your room used to be the ‘sex’ room) and you have the weekends off.

So for a twenty something year old with few ambitions, the social skills of a Martian with autism, and a huge crush on every older emotionally unavailable man you meet, it’s a pretty good set-up.

You’re waiting for time to pass in the garden, just reading a rather interesting book that Charles had recommended after he noticed you needed something to pass time before you started making bad decisions.

You hear his heavy footsteps on the gravel before you see him. Your heart beats faster, but you will yourself, do everything in your power not to glance up at him. And you let out a breath as you succeed, keeping your head down.

“In your natural habitat, are you, spitfire?” Your head darts up to him—There’s no way he isn’t talking to you, you know you’re the only one in this garden. And you can see his lips twitch up and you want to crawl out of your skin!

“My-My natural habitat?” You laugh, closing the book you’re reading because your attention is locked to him now.

“Yeah, seems like it.” He saunters on up to you and sits on the bench next to you.

And let’s make something very clear—

Logan Howlett does not sit.

This man poses, as if there’s always some invisible camera capturing every frame of movement, from the way his legs spread out, to the way his chest lifts when he inhales.

Fuck, you think you might die if you can’t suck him off right now.

“And what exactly is my uh.. habitat?” You question.

He takes out his lighter and a cigar, placing the cigar in his mouth as he gestures to the space around the two of you, lighter in hand.

“A garden.” He says, matter of facility, as his voice is muffled only the slightest bit by the cigar.

And you just sort of look at him before asking,

“Oh, you enjoy being boiled down to your mutations, Claws?” You question, and as he goes to light the cigar, he smirks.

“Alright, you gotta admit though, it is cliché!”

You are absolutely in agreement, there is zero doubt you are as much of a walking, breathing, real life living, stereotype.

“It is not!” And the pair of you give each other this look, like you’re both shocked at how whiney that statement is!

“Uh-huh, sure, Spitfire.” It sounds almost like he’s purring at you.

When he lights his cigar, he’s sort of eying you for your reaction, whatever you might say.

“You know, smoking is not only bad for you, it’s awful for the environment.”

“You’re probably the most cliché little freak around here.” Which.. honestly..? Shouldn’t possibly turn you on as much as it does.

You just stare at him for a minute, and he smirks.

“Cat got your tongue?’

And maybe it’s stupid and maybe it’s immature but your hand just comes over to fiddle with the pointed part of his hair.

“We’ll you certainly look the part.” He just looks at you, and honestly? The way he’s looking at you, it’s like he’s proud of you for teasing him.

“Aw, there’s my little spitfire,” He teases, just to see how red you get. And red you are— it’s embarrassing. And here’s the kicker—You are young. Exceptionally young, and what’s insane about that? How horny it makes both you and Logan.

The idea of fucking your innocent cunt, tight and all his, drives him genuinely mad. And you are, quite literally, a whore for the idea of riding this older man’s dick. You know he’s big—sometimes you see the outerline of it when he walks away from you all huffy and puffy.

“You’re a tease, Claws.” You respond, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Says you,” he raises and eyebrow, leaning closer to you now, “You’re the one laying around in the sun, looking like that.”

“Looking like this?” You scoff. You’re wearing a muscle tee and a pair of ripped jeans, but the gaps are huge and he can see your thighs. He wants to devour you, and you would let him if he only asked.

And let’s be clear—he is fucking you with his eyes. There’s no way to go around it.

“I think you’re just.. horny.” You tease, and he just growls. Seriously, this man who is undressing you with his eyes, growls, because he does want you and he is horny!

“I think you’re onto something.” He purrs, and you want to just.. god. You don’t know how to express the pit of desire that grows in you. “I would fuck you until you couldn’t think, right here among your pretty flowers. Would you like that, baby?” he asks, his hand finding your thigh.

But you just cough on the smoke from his cigar, before frowning.

“You really shouldn’t smoke.”

“Aw, I’ll make it up to you.” He smirked. “Promise, spitfire.”

He’s very close to you now, so you take a second to just breath and you know that he knows that he’s got you—hook, line, and sweet, sweet sinker.

And then you realize what exactly it is that you’ve gotten yourself into. And what a nightmare it is—Or maybe a dream if you listen to the pathetic part of your brain, but you are into this an in a way that is concerning for your own mental wellbeing and desperately want to avoid him having all the power in this situation.

“Oh, I am sure you will.” You assure. You lean forward, plucking the cigar from his lips, and placing it on the ground, squashing it beneath your heel. With a flick of your wrist, vines and grass grow over the cigar, composting it. And from the vines, grows a small little buttercup flower.

You lean down and pluck the flower from the grass, before tucking it behind Logan’s ear.

“You should take care of that hard-on you have, Claws.” You hum, before standing up, and walking away. And for a minute, he just watches you go—partly to because you have an amazing ass, but partly because you have absolutely flabbergasted him.

And have made him want you even more.

• • •

The next time you see him is the next night, in the woods near the mansion. Because the literal sixteen year olds you go to ‘school’ with do not know how to do anything on the weekend except drink, fuck, and smoke.

Honestly, you kind of fit in great.

So here you are, nursing a mason jar of.. some fucked up concoction, and you’re not too sure what’s in it, but you have drunk two of them and are on your third. You think you might live forever, until you glance up and see Logan, in these fuck me jeans and this burnt orange flannel and a wife beater.

Instantly, you know that you’ll die tonight if you don’t have him.

He approaches you with this cocky smirk as if he hasn’t realized your intoxicated state yet.

“Now what’s a little spitfire like you doing all alone on a Friday night?” he questions, tilting his head. His smirk is deadly. And you roll your eyes.

“Here comes the big bad Wolverine, all bark and no bite.” You scoff, and his eyes flash with surprise. Only for a second, but even drunk, you notice the way his eyes shoot up in surprise.

“All bark and no bite? That’s quite the accusation.” He hums.

“Well, we’ve been.. eye fucking each other for a few weeks now, and you haven’t even kissed me yet. I get being into foreplay and edging, but holy shit, Claws, throw a girl a bone once in a while.” You scoff, and for a moment, he just looks at you.

“Are you.. drunk?”

“Do you think I’m drunk?”

“Yeah, you’re drunk.” He sighs. You respond by taking another sip of your drink, but before the bitter liquor hits your tongue, he snatches the bottle from you.

“Let me take you home.” You’re sure your eyes look like hearts, so, dreamily and a little love struck, you respond,

“’Kay.”

And he chuckles a little bit at that.

“We’re not gonna do anything, I’m just gonna walk you home, spitfire.” He starts, and your face falls a little bit, but in an effort to hide it, you respond,

“..’kay.” And he sees right through you. You’re pretty much an open book. And the alcohol doesn’t help. His pointer finger and thumb comes to your chin, and he gently rubs his thumb against your lip.

“Don’t be like that, pup. It’ll happen soon. Just not tonight, okay?” He assures.

“’Kay.” You answer softly, and you think he smiles at you but your vision is sort of blurry. Then, you blink, as a gust of wind moves through the trees, sending a shiver down your spine. He sighs, and wordlessly takes off his flannel, before wrapping it around you. Your arms slip into the sleeves, and you almost cry because it’s like, the best hug in the entire world. “Won’t.. you be cold, then?” you question, and he just shakes his head.

“Let’s get you home, spitfire.” He holds a handout to you, and without a second thought, you take his hand. He wraps his arm around you, and you lean against him like it’s something the two of you do often. If you were sober, you might short circuit. But, you’re not, so it feels right.

The walk home is quiet, but Logan’s thumb gently rubs against your shoulder. He wants to do more, but he knows he shouldn’t, since you are in fact plastered.

You ignore the giggles and whispers from teenagers making their way past you to the party or to their rooms, and you even ignore the way their giggles stop when they meet Logan’s gaze.

When you get back to your room, you take a second to lean against the door, and he takes a second to admire the way you look in his clothes.

“Ready for bed?” he asks gently, and you just smile at him.

“You’re really pretty.” He just does the half scoff-half chuckle that you’re obsessed with. Then, he wraps his arm around you again, opening the door to your room, and guiding you inside. He gets you to your bed and sits you down, before kneeling in front of you to untie your boots. “Has anyone ever told you how good you look on your knees?” you ask.

He just gives you this smirk.

“One or two pretty girls back in the day.” He says, “None as pretty as you though, spitfire.” He says, and you groan, leaning back and laying on the bed, as he pulls off your boots.

“You’re awful.” And you need him.

“Yes, I know, baby.” His voice is almost condescending, and it turns you on. But then he stands up, grabbing the folded blanket from the edge of your bed, and laying it over you. He finds his place kneeling next to you again as you stare at him, cozy in bed. His hands gently brush hair from your face. “Do you need anything else?”

“You.”

“Soon. But not yet, pup. You’re too drunk.” He says softly.

“Thanks for walking me home, Claws.”

“You’re very welcome, Spitfire.” He purrs, leaning forward and kissing your forehead gently. “I’ll see you in the morning. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Logan.” You mumble as you drift off to sleep. He sits there for a few minutes, just looking at you for a long time before he gets up and creeps out of your room.

• • •

The next morning, you sit in the cafeteria, drinking a large coffee, and nursing the worst hangover, possibly of your life. Made even worse by the fractions of memories about what happened last night.

You rub your eyes, flinching when you hear the clatter of a plate on the table, and someone sitting across from you. You peek through the gaps of your fingers to see Logan sitting across from you, a smirk on his face.

He opens his mouth to say something but you beat him to it.

“I hate you. Shut up.”

“I didn’t even say anything!” he laughs. But he sees how much pain you’re in, and slides two pieces of sourdough toast to you. “Truce?”

“Truce.” You agree, taking a slice and biting into it. You feel better.

And after a moment of silence, he asks,

“I’m never getting my flannel back, am I?”

Truthfully, the flannel has been folded neatly and tucked into your drawer, for the next time you need some comfort.

You tilt your head, looking right into his eyes.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

• • •

Weeks go by like this.

You spend your days either going to class or hanging out—okay, it’s more like flirting with a side of hanging out, with Logan. The pair of you become quite close, and maybe that’s why you haven’t fucked yet.

Oh, the two of you want to, and it’s obvious to everyone (Charles has called you out for being distracted more times than you can count, and you remind him not to probe your mind, and he tells you he does not need his mutant abilities to see that your thoughts linger elsewhere.) but you’re.. afraid, at this point.

Which is odd, because you’re no virgin, you know he wants you, but.. what if everything changes after that? Maybe he’ll start to avoid you. Maybe you’ll start to avoid him. And you’ve really become good friends, and don’t want to lose it.

And then, there’s the fact that half the time, he’s away on dangerous missions, and even if he can regenerate, you worry about him. But he hasn’t been on any lately, so it’s like waiting for the other shoe to drop.

You’re sitting in the garden when it happens.

He finds you, and this time, you do not even try to hide the way your head picks up and gazes at him.

“Hi, Spitfire.” He grins, and you smile a bit at him.

“Claws, what can I do for you?” And he sits next to you, and for some reason, maybe because he doesn’t say anything at first, you know that there is something wrong. And you know what it is.

After a few minutes, you glance to him.

“You’re leaving, aren’t you?” Your voice is quiet, as if you’re scared that if it gets any louder, everything will fall apart.

“Yeah. Charles has me going on another mission.” He doesn’t say it, but you both know this isn’t an involuntary thing.

“Cool.” You cringe at your reaction.

“I guess.” He laughs weakly, as if he knows he’s twisting a knife buried within you.

Silence fills the air. It’s not necessarily uncomfortable, but it isn’t the relaxed silence you’re used to with him. Confessions dance on the tips of your tongues, and you’re so close to saying it, that when you turn to each other suddenly, you just need to look at each other for a second.

“Be safe.” You say quietly. “And hurry back.” You request, and you try not to sound like you’re begging.

“Of course.” He says, like it perplexes him that you even have to request. “I can’t leave you here yearning for me forever, can I?” He teases, and for a moment, you have this flash of an alternate universe where he does die on this mission and you are trapped in this garden forever, waiting for him. Like a lost puppy, or worse, a lost lover. The mere thought of it fucks with your head.

“No. You can’t. I won’t allow it.” You explain, “If anything, I’m the one that should be haunting you.” He just smiles. A real, not at all awkward smile.

“I’m sure you will, spitfire.” He says, and his head comes forward so that his forehead is resting against yours.

“When do you leave?” You ask gently, and he sighs. His breath smells of mint and cigar smoke, maybe even a hint of lemon.

“An hour. I have to pack quick and then debrief.” He answers you.

And just as love struck as you were the night of the party, you answer,

“’Kay.” You smile weakly at him. And he just.. looks at you for a few minutes before sighing again. He pulls away and leans up to kiss your forehead again, before standing up. He turns a few steps away from you just to tease you.

“Don’t miss me too much, okay?” he requests softly. Before you can stop yourself, you stand up, and wrap your arms around him. He only pauses for a half a second before he returns your embrace, and it becomes apparent that you both needed this moment. You stay like this for a few minutes before you pull away.

“Bring me back a souvenir.” You try, a soft smile on your face.

“Yeah, don’t worry. I’ll bring you something great from the great city of Tulsa, Ohklahoma.” He grins.

“Deal.”

• • •

For the next week, you feel like this must be what it was like for housewives when their husbands went to war. You knew all too well that that statement was extremely dramatic, but you simply cannot help yourself.

You think you might die by day three.

It’s like you’re going through withdrawals and it’s making you go genuinely insane.

You have worn this man’s flannel for almost the entire week, because at first you’re a little self-conscious of other people noticing your repeating outfits, but only at first. By day four, you have decided you don’t give a single fuck.

Day eight you’re just laying in bed, quietly making a list of all the positions you want him to take you in. It’s a long list. You’re brought back to reality by a knock on your door. You’re about to snap, knowing that you’ll tell whatever child has been sent to bother you to scram, but when you open the door, you grin widely.

Logan stands there, looking tired, but he’s smiling and holding up a shot glass that reads ‘Tusla’, and has skyline on it.

“Didn’t I tell you I’d get you a souvenir?” He asks, and you can’t help but wrap your arms around him, pulling him in. He hugs you back, making sure to squeeze you just a bit—your feet barely come off the ground.

He pulls away, and you grin up to him.

“You came back.” You say it as if you can barely believe it, and just for a moment, he feels an emotion he can’t quite place, but he ignores it.

“Of course I came back, spitfire. All in one piece too, as requested.” He grins, and you’re just.. amazed at the look of him. “What’s that look for?” He asks gently, tilting his head.

“I just..” you start.

And then you break.

You lean up and kiss him gently, those stupidly delicious sideburns making your stomach flip. He doesn’t waste time, kissing you back, his arms around your waist. After a minute, you pull away.

“Sorry. I’m kind of done playing that game of waiting for you to kiss me. I just got the first hit of you I’ve had all week, and I feel fucking amazing.” You confess, and sure, it’s not a big grand love confession with tears and poetry, but your words make him kiss you so intensely that you start backing into your room, his hands exploring your body as you tug off his leather jacket, a new flannel for you to steal coming off soon after.

He keeps kissing you as his hands come down to your jeans, unbuttoning and unzipping them, before gently pushing you to sit on the bed. He kneels in front of you, and begins to tug off your boots again, then, on your jeans.

You grin.

“You know, I’m getting the oddest sense of déjà vu. Something about you looking great on your knees.” You tease, and he just tugs off your jeans in one strong swoop, before leaning in to bite your thigh. You gasp, your hands coming up to tug his hair.

Then, he begins to tug at your panties, and you tilt his head up, glancing at him.

“What are you doing?”

“Well, before I was interrupted, I was about to eat you out.”

“Wait, really?”

He blinks, confused.

“Yeah. Is that a, uh.. problem..?” He hasn’t gotten any complaints yet.

“I just.. I didn’t think guys actually did that, I thought it was just.. a porno thing.” And at this, the man who is about to burry his face between your thighs, laughs. And not just a chuckle, this man hollars. “What’s so funny, claws?” You ask, a little suspicious.

“Nothing,” he promises, “I am just going to take such good care of you, pup.”

“I’m holding you to that, claws.” And then, he leans in and begins to kiss your thighs, gently biting down here and there. Then, he licks a stripe along your cunt, and you let out this loud moan, and your hand comes up to clamp over your mouth, but he reaches up to grab your hand, lacing his fingers with yours.

He pulls away to lecture you. Lecture you. On his knees. Head between your thighs.

“Nuh-uh, I wanna hear all the pretty noises you can make for me.” Then, softer, he adds, “Never been eaten out before, fuckin’ travesty.” He mumbles, before leaning in to lick your cunt again, beginning to lap his tongue over your throbbing heat.

His nose rubs against your clit, and it’s enough to drive you genuinely crazy. You’re unsure how you’ve gotten to this point in your life without having your pussy worshipped like this, but with him around, you’re pretty sure you’ll never go another day without it.

His tongue continues to work magic on your cunt, as his nose presses against your clit, stimulating you to the point of making you see stars.

Your hands tug at his hair, and the moan that it elicits from him is enough to send vibrations through your cunt through your stomach. Your head leans back as you moan, and for a moment, you hope there is no mutant in this mansion with super hearing.

His free hand grips your thigh as he bends your leg back to get better access, as he continues to eat you out. The mere taste of you is enough to drive him crazy—He almost wants to start thrusting into the side of your bed, he’s so hard, but he ignores that urge to continue to eat you out.

“Mm—Lo, I—I’m gonna—”

He just hums into your cunt, giving your thigh a gentle squeeze of approval, before his tongue moves even faster (if that’s even possible, though, he is an amazingly surprising man), and suddenly—

You feel a release you have been waiting for weeks, and it is fucking phenomenal. And the Wolverine just licks up all your cum, even if it makes your thighs shake, but honestly, he doesn’t care and neither do you. For a moment, you just listen to the sound of your own pants.

After a minute, you are able to look at him, and he just looks up to you with the same smirk that has been torturing you for all of those weeks. And you just have to pull him up to kiss you, like it’s the only way you’ll be able to live.

As you kiss him, you pull off his wifebeater and then your hands rest on the sides of his face as he pulls off your shirt as well, before his hands begin to make quick work of his belt, wanting to skip all of the pleasantries and just fuck you.

But when he finally gets his jeans off, you pull away, and he stares at you like you’re crazy.

“What the fuck could possibly be more important than me fucking you stupid?”

“Will you just.. let me look at you?” You scoff, your eyes flickering over him to just memorize every square inch of his body. He humors you for a few minutes, standing there with his hands on hips before he leans in and cages you in with his arms.

“Show’s over, spitfire.” He purrs, leaning in to kiss you, slowly making his way closer to you so that you’re laying back on your bed. At some point during the kiss, his boxers come off, and when you feel his cock against your cunt, you moan into the kiss, and you can feel his smirk against your lips.

Oh, you could kill him. But, you suspect maybe he’ll get to you first.

After he kisses you for a few minutes, he pulls away to tell—not ask, tell you, “I’m going to fuck you now.” And you know your line.

“’Kay.” He grins at this and kisses you again, before lining himself up and starting slowly. He just has the tip inside of you, and you begin to moan, your grip on his shoulders tightening. You already feel entirely too full, and he slowly agonizingly slowly pushes into you, and he sees how his size makes your face twitch,

“Shh, shh, I know, pup. Deep breathes for me, bub,” he says softly, such a stark contract to his rough movements, as he bottoms out and has his entire cock inside of you. And he gives you a second, watching as your face relaces, adjusting to the size of him. “Okay?” He asks, and you nod.

“’Kay,” You assure, and he kisses your forehead.

“’Kay.” He responds, and before you can tease him for it, he begins to thrust into you, slowly as first, but he continues to quicken his pace. Your nails begin to scratch on his back, and he lets out this angelic moan—You must’ve died and went to heaven.

As his thrusts quicken, the lines quickly blur between quick ruts and an animalistic need, manifesting itself in the way he fucks you. You know you won’t last long, especially when his fingers find your clit and begin to rub it again.

“Fuck! Oh my god—”

“I know, baby, I know,” he coos, his free hand coming to your thigh to lift your leg up, only for better access to your throbbing cunt, “God, I love the feeling of you around me.. Worth the wait, I promise.” He grumbles, as he thrusts into you, his only goal to make you cum.

You want to respond to that—To tease him, to make him feel as shy as you do, but he has completed his goal of fucking you stupid.

All you can do is respond, “Fuck—I’m gonna—”

“I know, baby, go ahead, cum for me,” he requests softly, leaning in to press a rather jarringly sweet kiss to your lips.

As you cum around his cock, he shudders, the look of you, laying there fucked dumb, is almost too much for him to bear.

“I’m gonna fill you up, pup,” he tells you, and all you can do is moan in response, which makes him come that much closer to the edge. After a few more thrusts, with a euphoric moan that will haunt you forever, his hot cum fills you up, leaving the pair of you clawing at each other, wanting more.

When you’re both finally finished riding out your high, Logan lays next to you, keeping you close. His grip on you is tight—possessive. When you finally find your voice, you ask,

“You’re not gonna turn me into a booty call, are you, claws?”

And he laughs.

“No,” he says, pressing a kiss to your head. “You’re gonna be my best girl, Spitfire.”

“Does this mean I get to steal another of your flannels?”

“I’ll give you my whole fucking wardrobe to see how many times I can make you cum.”

#logan howlett x you #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett smut #logan howlett #logan howlett blurb #wolverine #wolverine x reader #wolverine blurb #wolverine smut #xmen smut #deadpool and wolverine #danny speaks to the void

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kroosluvr · 2 months

Text

featherman seeker

as usual da cele notes under cut

had to get some food so thsi si late... i lterally gluedm yself to my chair to finish this LMAOAO

all of the not-dialogue is just straight up lines frm featherman seeker LMAOOO just rearranged

this takes place during 3rd semester (see: infiltration log on wall on 4th page, also their winter clothes strewn around akira's room) after drawing it i was rereading like oh u cld prob see this as like post-third semester but nah i intended it to be such BECAUSE

i rock w the canon that sumire has no clue abt akechi's past and black mask and the mental shutdowns and shido and the engine room she doesnt know hes supposed to be dead, that he sacrificed himself, etc. so ofc shes going thru the game like yayyy featherman yay and her sort of naivete Gets thru to goro. i imagine this is like idk a game he played in childhood bc he was a featherman fan but now revisiting it bc sumire wanted to try it, hes like. damn. this kinda. uh. well thats crazy how things line up. so i think it kinda grates at him but sumi's excitement and like. enjoyment! of it kinda helps him also enjoy it more

SO LIKE He knows he's going to die. He knows thats how grey pigeon's story ends. but he's happy here, and now, with the people he loves, so that makes it All right for now. it's a sad story but it's the good ending.

also i forgor how/where/when goro exactly Actualizes back into existence but can u imagine if he spawned right into the winter wonderland of shibuya square like (head in hands) smth so like. isolating abt it. in a crowd of ppl being excited over christmas and hes like what the hell im supposed to be Dead right now.

also "you are not alone" in the first panels very important..... right under hte panel w goro and sumi side by side :') yea

ryuji and ann holding akira back. YEA.

i really like the 3rd slide. the colors mmmm BUT YEAH so its goro/akira fighting/saving sumire, hanging out at jazz jin, last stand against adam kadmon, then goro holding sumi and akira's hands in the snow, then them smiling :') kinda like a procession of memories, or to-be memories or whatever

ANYWAY this is also like part of my whatever canon divergence where the royal trio section of 3rd sem is just longer for no reason . (aka: the thieves take longer to win over to their side, idk maruki gives u a longer time on the deal, etc etcetc.) just more royal trio time :3

sumibun akimeow and gorodog in 4th img... hidden.... also tennis rackets. ALSO THE LITTLE POLAROIDS Important. and all their clothes! i imagine they stay over at leblanc A Lot. akira prob convinces sojiro to Keep morgana at his house LOL and he handles the business and stuff just so they can have their safe haven while they struggle to try and win the thieves back and infiltrate the palace etc . (I kinda have a comic or something in the works for this)

more abt dialogue choices

"it's tough for a tutorial stage" - this means smth. i didnt think this thru 100% ASKJDHASDKJA but its to do w akechi's life and how everything was so fucking difficult for him as a kid when it shouldnt have been.

"is the second phase giving you trouble" - also smth to do w akechi. (As u can see these are all half baked metaphors) smth to do w his 'second life" aka: third semester being Difficult. because now he has sumire and akira and he doesn't want to leave them, so dying the 2nd time is gonna suck real bad.

i like shuakesumi btw

#hey guys hows it going #sumire yoshizawa #goro akechi #akira kurusu #royal trio #shuakesumi #persona 5 royal #cele draws #cele comic

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mariasont · 4 months

Note

not sure if you’re planning to write this, but smut with spencer & bimbo!receptionist!reader would probably fix my problems 😔 i feel like spencer would be praising her nonstop, while also being condescending & i fucking live for that‼️

Undo You - S.R

a/n: i love ur mind anon 😚 i hope this lives up to what you want 🫶🏼🫶🏼✨ thank you for requesting xoxo

anyway i kinda think this is bad bc i didn’t proofread but whatever ill prob go back and edit laters!

masterlist

pairings: spencer reid x bimbo!receptionist!reader

summary: bimbo reader and spencer doing the nasty

warnings: 18+ MDNI, fingering, degrading? (not really), spencer being slightly condescending, p in v, unprotected sex (BE BETTER!), creampie (STOP I HATE IT TOO BUT WHAT ELSE AM I SUPPOSED TO CALL IT?!?!?! TWINKIE?!?!)

wc: 1.3k

Mustering the courage to ask you out was a feat in itself but getting you into his bed was a whole other ballgame. But here you were, fingers roaming through his hair and tracing the contours of his back. You were perfect, and you were in his bed.

The wasn't the first, nor would it be the last if he had anything to do with it. It's hard to fathom his good luck--to have you, breathtaking in every sense, under him, your fingertips gently grazing his waist band as you inch towards his cock.

Your makeup was almost artfully messy, with mascara delicately pooled beneath your lashes, rendering you devastatingly tempting. You had glittering eyeshadow on, and it was getting everywhere. Spencer felt the urge to undo you--to disrupt the pristine image you presented to the world, to make you uniquely his. Selfish? Without a doubt. But that didn't diminish the idea.

Your hands, with their perfect manicure, were now wrapped around his cock, tugging and pulling as if your palms were sculpted precisely for this purpose.

You were saying something, your lips a mesmerizing motion as he grasped the sheets beside you, each fistful a concerted effort to remain control.

"What, angel?" He was trying to be patient with you.

You talked a lot in general, but in bed, it only seemed to amplify. This was not a bad thing, not in his eyes, no, it was almost too much of a good thing. Each time your mouth opened and closed with another airy comment he found himself that much closer to spilling his load all over you.

"Your face is really red," you breathed out, nostrils flaring slightly, your eyes averted, engrossed in the sight of his length enclosed between your hands.

He stifled a laugh, resisting the urge to shove his cock into that pretty mouth of yours.

"Well, you see," Spencer starts, pausing as your hand presses to the tip of his length, "when someone is excited...or aroused, blood flow increases to the f-face, causing...vasodilation. It's... it's a sympathetic nervous system response."

"Oh, like when you get all red after running?" You tilt your head in that curious way of yours, your actions uninterrupted as words flowed from you.

"Yes, exactly like that."

He grabbed your hand, pulling you off of him and pressing that same hand to the mattress below him.

"And just like my face gets red, your pupils dilate when you're excited," Spencer explains, his hand poised just above your collarbone, sketching paths on your skin, "It's due to the release of norepinephrine, which is part of your body's fight of flight response."

Your lips were parted, pressing your body into him like you couldn't help yourself, hips squirming under his.

"So, what's the verdict, sweet girl?" Spencer asks, watching your gaze met his, lips parting as he dragged a hand over your clothed heat. "What's your body telling you? Fight of flight?"

You kissed him, gasping into his mouth as he pushed a finger into you. You were drenched. "Is submit an option?"

"That's my girl," he said, feeling his cock tighten even more, as if that were possible, almost moaning at the sight of your dimple being drawn out.

You whined, arching your back against the navy-blue sheets as your hands locked around his neck, pulling him impossibly close. He could smell everything about you from here—your coconut shampoo, your vanilla perfume, your lavender lotion. He wanted to inhale it, to inhale you.

He didn't even bother with your skirt, simply pulling your panties out from under it and lining himself up with your entrance. He watched, enthralled, as your chest rose and fell, holding your breath as you braced for his cock. You were so good for him, too good for him.

One hand clasped against your hip as the other guided his length into you, hissing as you tightened around him. It was a feeling that could never get old, like he was being reborn, like the world was ending and you and him were the only two people left. He would be fine with that.

Your face twisted up in pleasure as you began to rock against him, not giving yourself that chance to adjust. You did this often and it caused him to push down on your hips, stopping your movements. He could come if you kept doing that. He would.

"Patience," he hissed, but you were never one that was good with following orders.

You moved again, tits bouncing up and down your chest as you did. He stifled a groan, meeting your movements with thrusts of his own.

He imagined this is what Buddhists meant when they referred to finding the garden of Nirvana. This was it for him. The ultimate state of liberation and profound peace.

You were a blubbering mess, fingertips clawing down his back, surely to leave marks, but he couldn’t care less.

“Look at you,” he cooed, rutting his cock in and out of you. “You’re awfully quiet. Got something on your mind, baby?”

“N-No,” you stammered, legs wrapping around his waist as your arms went around his neck, clinging to him like a koala, your moans now pressed up against his ear.

“I figured as much.”

Your tits were flush against his chest, his breath stalling as he reached in the limited space between you, thumb circling your clit. Your whines intensified, just as his thrusts did.

“Spencer, please, yes, oh fuck—,” you paused, a gasp releasing from your lips as he felt you unravel on his cock, your wet cunt clenching around him in a way that made his legs shake.

“That’s it, sweetheart, just like that.” His movements were more desperate now, sloppily slamming into you without mercy. “You’re so fucking good, baby.”

He barely recognized your lips against his ear. “Will you come inside me please?”

That was all it took, those simple words, brushing against his skin and rushing all the way down to his cock. His thrusts slowing as he pumped himself inside you, the sound completely obscene, but it just made him enjoy it that much more.

You were limp against the bed, and Spencer was quick to follow, face finding the crook of his neck as he tried his best not to crush you with his weight.

He could feel your pulse against his lips, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses into your honey induced skin as he waited for you to return back to planet Earth.

He was well aware of the drill, pressing one last kiss to your sweaty forehead before prying himself out of your hands and making a beeline for the bathroom. He grabbed a towel and a glass of water before coming back to the bed, nearly fainting at your tired smile shining at him, at him.

“Hi, gorgeous.”

“I really love when you call me that,” you said, almost dreamily as you pushed your tousled hair into the pillow.

He laughed, placing the water on the table and moving your legs so he was between them.

“Gorgeous,” he repeated as he dabbed the towel to your sex, cleaning the mess he made on you. “Do I not call you that enough? Because I can certainly make it a more regular occurrence.”

“Well, I mean, it couldn’t hurt,” you said, giggling as you flinched away from the pressure on your clit.

He pushed your leg down, preventing you from squirming. “Let me clean you up.”

You pouted, and he had the sudden urge to bite your bottom lip. You gave him a salute, giggling before you could even get the words out. “Aye, aye captain.”

He tossed the towel to the side, climbing up your legs as he kissed you, soft and slow, murmuring into your lips, “come here, smart ass.”

taglist: @hotchhner @khxna @readergf

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x bimbo!reader #spencer reid x bimbo reader #spencer reid x fem reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid #Reid #criminal minds smut

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writingmeraki · 2 months

Text

kiss the shit out of you — k.mg drabble.

❝ in which you thought there'd never be a time when you would experience first-hand jealousy but turns out you aren't an exception to this emotion.

( or in which your boss seungcheol loves to find new ways to push your buttons. and push you towards mingyu too. you might just punch him or thank him. )

pairing: secret!agent mingyu x secret!agent reader, established stage. genre : fluff, angstish. warnings : jealousy, mentions of bars and drinks, death threats, no actual kissing guys im sorry

a/n : pri comeback with another secret agent mingyu drabble. who cheered. not a full on comeback but hey i picked this up from my abandoned clusters of wips and welp this is how it turned out, let me know what you think !! also urm if the writing is a lil yk wonky pls bare w me it's been a long while <3 also the summary probs sucks my bad g again it's been aaa whileee :DDDDDD

word count : 1.8k

“I want to kill you.”

You glared at Cheol as you clenched your fist to your side resisting the urge to punch the shit-eating grin off his face.

Not an ideal sentence to tell your boss but the situation he’d kept you in was going the way he predicted and not how you thought it would.

It started earlier in the day when he called Mingyu and you along with Chan and Seokmin in to do a mission which would require disguises and putting on an act. It was simple really he said, you all had to attend a gala, which had the member of a gang you’d been trying to catch attending as well.

Butter him up, a few drinks later and he’d let the information you seeked slip out with ease. This particular member was one who caused a lot of mishaps, knowingly or unknowingly, he was hard to track but this was a sure tip as his name was also on the guest list.

It all seemed okay until he told you the twist. You would be the servers along with Chan and Seokmin. You looked at him in confusion wondering if he forgot Mingyu was also called in and was right beside you also wondering something similar.

“What about him?”

“Oh right. He’s going to be attending as a couple with Yura.” He said it nonchalantly while looked towards you,

“It shouldn’t be a bother to you right? Considering it’s just a few hours and most importantly for the job.” He had a smug look on his face to which you slowly narrowed your eyes at him. Mingyu was going to oppose, but you shushed him.

“It’s for the job Gyu, it wouldn’t matter to me.” You knew he had more to say but he just frowned and nodded at your words.

You knew what card he had been playing, you could remember him asking you that what if there came a time your partner would have to act as a couple with someone else would you have gotten jealous and you also remember you scoffing at him saying, it would be for a mission only anyways, why would you be? He protested saying it was natural to feel jealous but you told him that then you would need to get a grip instead of being unprofessional.

Now you could feel your words bite you back as you tried not to glare at the way she seemed more than excited to be with ‘the most sought out’ agent.

You scoffed at yourself, feeling an even worse guilt at being jealous. The kind where you trusted him, but you couldn’t help the ugly emotion to rise up and as time went it seemed to rile up.

It was going to be one of the rookies, her first big assignment being this. Her name was Yura, from what you recalled.

Your relationship with Mingyu was not exactly public. Again it was your idea. It seemed all your ideas were eventually coming to bite you in the back. Maybe this was your karma for something.

Eventually looking away from the couple, you sighed as you sat down by the bar.

“Oye, you aren’t supposed to sit, you’re the server here.” Before he could speak further, Chan elbowed your boss to which he glared at him but eventually gulped a little when he saw the look on your face.

Now, Choi Seungcheol was no coward. But he knew better than to already fuel a fire that might just burn him alive. Quite literally. He thinks he’s spoken enough when he sees your stare harden.

“Haha, or not, yeah um…continue to sit as you wish, besides we’re just back up here…I’ll uh, I’ll go finish the um…cleaning the glasses.”

“Get me a drink. Strong.”

And as your pretend bartender colleague made you an actual whisky on the rocks — training required prior days to mission — your eyes automatically once again drifted off to him.

Your partner, your boyfriend, highlighting the your factor harshly in your thoughts as you looked at the pretend couple.

Jealousy, you learnt that day, is an ugly emotion but a fascinating one too. It might slowly chip away at your self esteem and build on a pile of undeserving guilt but it somehow helps in emphasising just how much one means to the other.

It was a horrible pit at the bottom of your stomach but an unflattering brush in the depth of your heart. Both making you more confused and therefore, anger being the only emotion that would make sense.

You could hear her giggles as she leaned in closer to his side, her arm practically cushioned between his and you clenched your molars in the assumed anger.

It was as if he could sense your gaze. He always could, since a long time actually. As though his mind seemed to embed you, your presence right into his unconscious to the point he could practically feel your gazes on him.

Maybe an exaggeration but he thinks when it comes to you, it all seemed to fall less.

His eyes flickered to see where you were directing yours at, and immediately he had to put in his all to not just move away. He was trying his all honestly, the reason he accepted was because he was sure you were also okay with it.

Professionally. Of course.

Emotionally? Personally?

You may have just been on the edge of punching someone. Seungcheol, you wish.

The way you were looking seemed nonchalant but this was the man that loved – loves you. Of course he knew when you were anything but.

Before you could even move your attention to him from where it had darted to – Yura subtly moved her hand above Mingyu’s. It was so subtle but you were very observant, unfortunately in this case, hand clenching around the now almost empty glass of alcohol.

It seemed in a flash, he abruptly pulled away, murmuring an excuse of getting another drink and you rolled your eyes at the pet names that smoothly rolled out of Yura’s tongues for him. You could feel your sanity level drop at that point.

Taking a deep breath, you reminded yourself as you shut your eyes for a second, that this was a mission. A job. You couldn’t, shouldn’t fuck this up because you can’t keep your newly acquired emotions in check—

A hand on top of yours was the next thing you felt. And even before you opened your eyes to face the owner of the hand, you already knew.

“Hey.” Minyu softly whispered, facing affront while you turned your head in his direction. He was close but not enough to seem suspicious, hand being hidden from the view of the others at the table.

Even though it was just a small touch, he kept it there as he spoke out to Chan. Mumblings of the drinks, a few details about the information he managed to get.

Yet all you could focus on was the warmth that radiated from his hand above yours. The way his hair was styled, the way his longer strands stood out perfectly, the way his pinkish lips moved as he spoke, eyes briefly shifting to yours when he did and it seemed he noticed your blatant checking out as one corner of his lip rose up.

Dammnit, his suits were always your weakness.

“Hi” He tried again, briefly shifting his head in your direction which seemed to snap you out of your daze as you blinked a few times.

“Hey.” You turned your hand that was facing down, and he briefly looked over and intertwined his fingers through yours.

Chan hastily looked over as he made the drinks, deciding he could probably slow down making the few drinks, and not like he was an expert at being fast anyway.

“Be careful.” He whispered to your pair, to which you looked at him and rolled your eyes but gave a short nod.

“Are you alright?” As Mingyu asked, you froze up for a moment, wondering if your obvious discomfort was already known to him.

Gulping, you nodded because it seemed easier to nod than to let your words out in fear of stumbling over reasons for your discomfort.

Jealousy, was again, odd. It made you ashamed, a lump in the throat due to feeling like perhaps you were just overthinking it all.

You didn’t even realise you were blatantly showing your nervousness, eyes looking at anywhere but his and mulling your bottom lip.

“You don’t need to worry over anything, ‘s going fine okay?”

“I can see that.”

The words came out sharply than intended, and he blinked owlishly, eyebrow raising at you with an emotion that seemed familiar to both confusion and wonder in his eyes.

“You don’t seem okay though.” He bit the bullet and told you his actual thoughts. He would have even said his assumptions but he did not want to tread too far.

“I’ll be fine, stop worrying about me. Your girlfriend wouldn’t appreciate that.”

Aha. There it was.

He scanned your face. The scoff was prominent as you narrowed your eyes ahead.

“You know you're the only one that matters to me right?” And even though he was tempted to tease you at the moment, he figured he'd save it for later.

His hand squeezed yours, as if to amplify his words, their meaning to you. How much he truly meant them, he hoped that it would somehow reach to you through the simple motion of squeezing your hand tighter.

And somehow, he knows it did when the crease between your brow slowly disappeared, when the scowl on your face dropped and a seemingly exhausted sigh escaped you.

Jealousy was…tiring.

“Yes, I know.”

Without thinking, he leaned in closer to you, mouth grazing your ear as he spoke, the sudden warmness of his breathing so close making you shudder slightly.

“Tell you what baby? You can simply kiss the out of me when we get back. You know, remove all your anger, I heard it's a great exercise.”

The abruptness of the statement made you pull away and you couldn't help but giggle at his words, feeling a lot lighter than previously. A warm feeling spreads on your cheeks at the thought of his pink lips captivating yours.

And of course, no one in this world could surprise you the way Kim Mingyu does.

Well two could play at this.

Leaning in closer, your eyes gleamed with an equally mischievous flair to his, you whispered, only for his ears.

“As if I need permission to kiss the shit out of you, I hope you know I can and will do it anytime, anywhere.”

His smile turned into a smirk as he glanced back at the table, seeing how his colleague was occupying the others, knowing he could go off for a few.

Looking at you determinedly, he stood up, pushing his hand forward,

“Bathroom break?”

And of course, anywhere Kim Mingyu would go, you'd too.

Placing your head in his, you nodded with a chuckle at how unserious this was getting,

“Sure.”

Lucky for the both of you, it seemed you were good at keeping your words. And kissing of course.

perm. taglist ( open ! ) : @mansaaay ; @gyuguys ; @toplinehyunjin ; @cherrylovescheol ; @stagefrjghts

( if you want to be added just send an ask/reply to this !)

all written works as well as images and edits (unless credited) belong to pri. do not plagiarise, repost, re-edit or claim as yours. pics mostly found on pinterest.

feedback is always appreciated 💌 !

links : main navi ! | svt masterlist ! | info !

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raitonsfw · 8 months

Note

Hi I’d like to request for Dazai x fem!gf reader and ab that Dazai couldn’t get the thoughts off of his mind since the night before reader allowed him to finish inside for the first time in their relationship and it’s just kinda got him weird ( not in a bad way ) but in a way he wants to do it again until he dies? Also breeding kink? Thank you,

𝚟𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚊 𝚍𝚛𝚒𝚙𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚜 | 𝚍𝚊𝚣𝚊𝚒 𝚘𝚜𝚊𝚖𝚞

synopsis: Dazai had pleaded day after day to let him cum inside you and you were always so worried about the consequences, a simple ‘no’ leaving your mouth every single time. But the one time you say yes after he begged for it, yearning for it from the very depths of his arousal, Dazai becomes absolutely obsessed with breeding you. And the next day is nothing but new territory for you as he pushes you to your limit, over and over again…and well, guess it’s time to start shopping for the nursery.

warnings: 18+ mdni, smut (holy fuck y’all), fem!reader, needy-fucked out-desperate!dazai, breeding kink, cunnilingus, cum eating, creampies (a lot of them), squirting, overstimulation, dubcon, slight masturbation (dazai), dirty talk, yearning, begging, desperation, rough p in v, many positions (missionary, doggy style, mating press), dazai has insane stamina, talks of having children, four rounds (probs unrealistic but who cares?), aftercare, pet names (baby, princess, darling, my love)

a/n: i got really really really carried away, my bad. Fr my sex probably wrote this instead of my mind, im so ashamed of myself. anywho, enjoy my version of breedy dazai! wc: 1.5k. m.list

divider credit: @benkeibear

“Please, Y/N, one more time.” You heard Dazai beg in your ear, his cock sliding into your already abused cunt and you let out a tiny bruised noise. “I promise it’ll be the last round.”

How did you get like this exactly? Underneath him for what felt like an eternity with cum and your squirt dripping down the backs of your thighs and pooling thick against the bedsheets? You knew it had something to do with last night, but your mind was so hazy you couldn’t quite puzzle the pieces together.

“Can I, baby? Please, just one time.” “Fuck, ‘M so close, need to cum so badly.” You remembered Dazai groaning last night, the memory finally faltering up in your mind. And of course, you weren’t thinking– you said ‘yes’, moaned, practically whined for his seed as his dick drilled into your sweet spot over and over and over– You should’ve thought it through but as you heard the telltale grunts from Dazai, burying his head into your chest with a heady moan, your senses became distorted and you begged for him to fill you up.

And he sure fucking did his job too, ropes of cum spurting against your cervix as he stilled inside you, pressing up against it harshly. You couldn’t feel anything else but his cum at the time, it was so wet and so warm inside you as your entire body went numb– and your mind too. You definitely thought once or twice about having his kids but that fortunately brought you back from your sublime wanting, reaching down for Dazai’s hand and squeezing it tightly as he shuddered against you.

You remembered his face when he pulled out, his cock damp with your arousal and the tip wet with remnants of the cum he fucked inside of you and you could see something whirling through his brain as he sat there for a second on his haunches, collecting himself. Dazai had watched his cum drip out of you and run down your folds like it was some sort of prize he had won– and was waiting for it to be given to him. Before you blink off the orgasm that had piled through you, his tongue had caught wind of your leaking cunt and you arched your back off the bed, clutching the brunette’s strands with a whimper.

“Dazai–!”

“Mm?” He had looked up at you, with those precious eyes of his still completely clouded with lust and you let out a sharp moan as he plunged his tongue into you, lapping at all the cum he had filled you with. It was possibly the hottest thing you ever witnessed in your life as his bandaged arms came to rub at the sides of your hips, his mouth moving skillfully against your folds and you felt his tongue curl to get every drop. Dazai tasted you through yet another orgasm, it wracking your body with immense pleasure and once you unclenched from his pointed tongue, he crawled onto you with a fervent kiss.

“What’s gotten into you, my love?” You had asked him once you managed to pull away, carefully rubbing down the extent of his chest, soothing the small scars that shrouded the frailness of his figure.

“Nothing, princess. I just really wanted to taste you.”

And maybe breed you. Dazai didn’t know what to do– ever since he had felt your pussy clench around him as he leaked into you– finally filled you up with his cum, his mind had been constantly begging for it again. The entire next day you were gone, he had been at a loss for words– his dick awfully hard in the confines of his trousers as he paced around the living room in distress. He tried to get himself off, slicking his hand up and down his cock with heavy intent on finishing… but he wanted to finish inside you– it drove him nearly mad as the precum bubbled at his tip but never truly let him release.

He waited for you all day, all fucking day and when you walked in; you were basically jumped. He hauled you over his shoulder with a kiss and a promise, something you were so deftly aware of and you got excited– you wanted to see what he had in store. Your boyfriend was quite theatrical, you could say; sometimes he’d end up with his hands tied in his own worn out bandages and other times, you’d end up with marks in places you didn’t even know he could reach. Very eccentric was your Dazai, the master of heeding your sex like it was dessert served on a silver platter.

And oh, that’s right– you’ve been in three different fucking positions now. The first time, you two didn’t even make it to the bed; he threw you against the plush pillows of the sofa and ripped open your blouse like it was a present, mouthing at the lacey bra you wore underneath. His fingers snaked into your panties like second nature, finding your clit and rubbing against it to warm her up. And a few minutes later, he sunk into you with a groan as you sucked him into your tight heat. And guess what he had started to beg as soon as started to thrust deep inside you?

“Baby, please can I cum inside again? Would mean the world ‘t me… I wanna–” And your response had been the same as the night before. A yearning yes, complete with a moan of his name to spur him on even more.

You could feel the cum seeping out of you as he laid you down onto the edge of the bed, the second round much more languid than the first. Dazai rolled his hips into you, peppering kisses down your chest and through the crevices of your neck and all you could do was push back against him in earnest as another orgasm crept up, threatening to burst in your nerves and it overtook you with a tremble. He came with a whimper of your name, seemingly more desperate than before, his eyes glancing down to your cramped pussy and watching the cum ooze out of you.

“Need you still, can we go another round?”

You were flipped onto your tummy, his hand pushing against it so you can get into the position he needed you in– on your hands and knees, with your back arched beautifully to show the swell of your ass. Before you could complain about feeling weak, he plunged into you. Your knees nearly collapsed in on themselves, but Dazai held you up with the hand on your tummy and plowed into you like it was his last day on Earth. And yet again, you chased your overwhelming orgasm as he bruised your cervix with every thrust.

This time was different as a wave of heat rushed over you– some type of pressure you’ve never felt before and you couldn’t even warn him as you squirted all over his cock with a shaky cry. You tightened around him, pulling his third orgasm from him inadvertently. “H-Holy shit, baby…”

And that’s how you got here, with Dazai pleading in your ear for one more fucking round.

You were in another position now; he moved you into a mating press and your legs shook with overstimulation as he held onto them. You honestly weren’t sure if you could cum a fourth time and it was the same with Dazai, but all he wanted you to do was milk him dry. He never expressed it to you, but you knew in the back of your mind that you made him into this monster, this goddamn fucker who wouldn’t stop til his cock leaked out nothing.

“Doing so good for me, darling. S-So fucking good. Wanna breed this pussy, till you're so full– till you have no choice but to have my children.” His eyes were rolling back as you stared up at him with dazed eyes, his words hitting you just right and your brain short-circuited with such a dangerous desire. His entire body had started to shake from overexertion and his praises were babbled on his tongue, stuttering along with his hips and you clenched around him as he thrusted into you and you felt like everything was falling apart around you. You saw stars as you came one last time, your vision blacking out as you arched into Dazai’s chest.

He followed shortly after and as he came, nearly nothing came out but he still tried to fuck it into you anyway. Dazai let your legs fall against the bed as he pulled out, kissing everywhere he could reach in the process. “Did so well, my love. Was so perfect for me, I love you so much.”

The praises didn’t stop for a while, even as he carried you to the bath and let you soak first before he even dared to try to fit in beside you. Dazai changed the sheets as you caressed the marks on your skin, bubbles soaping up the bruises and you whined out for him a few minutes later. He came running when you did so, making sure you were alright and you clinged onto his arm, unwrapping his bandages with a graceful twist. “Get in with me…”

a/n: wanna get tagged in future writing posts? join my taglist!

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