#and haven’t lifted a SINGLE FINGER to try
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Saying this was a delusion built from unhealthy parasocial relationships, when the words came directly from Oliver and Jen’s mouths is wild.
Jennifer aside, because I didn’t know she shipped them until this season and have never followed her, but Oliver has been pro-Buddie for years. He’s never directly stated he thinks fans were right until this season, but he’s always had a positive response when asked if he’d be comfortable playing Buck as queer and dating Eddie.
Clearly anon has never watched an interview with him, not even this season, nor were they around for his Twitter days, because he is not opposed to Buddie at all. Even this season he’s been liking and reposting Buddie fan art, so they must also not follow him on IG. Which is fine. It’s not necessary to follow actors online, but to claim someone is making shit up based on their supposedly overly familiar delusions with a celebrity… how? If you, anon, don’t follow Oliver on social media and don’t watch his interviews, why would you so confidently say he hasn’t expressed a preference or neutral liking to Buddie? You don’t know anything about what he posts or says in interviews, so why would you put yourself in a position to be so easily proven wrong?
I mean, you don't have that either it's just more of your delusions based on unhealthy parasocial obsessions
get therapy
oliver stark: “i see what you see, the buddie fans aren’t wrong”
youtube
jennifer love hewitt: i see everyone saying buck and eddie should be a couple… i think so too
youtube
There was also the time ryan and oliver said they watch edits and read the fan fiction and send it to each other
I liked tommy at first, i really did. but every new scene he is in he’s made it so hard to keep liking him. that daddy issues joke was so unbelievably cringe and unnecessary. and if buck was a woman and tommy had said that i would still think that it was cringe and unnecessary.
i’m allowed to not like a ship just as you’re allowed to not like buddie, i really couldn’t care less.
so how about you get out of my inbox and get some therapy.
#the answer: because they ship BuckTommy#and haven’t lifted a SINGLE FINGER to try#and watch past seasons nor past content#from Oliver at the very least to find out if#he even wants to play a queer character#it’s actually not at all uncommon for men#to dislike having their characters “turn gay”#especially when they are considered manly#this person and their fellow shippers literally#tuned into 911 because Buck became canon#bisexual and that’s all that matters to them#not his story not his emotions not his wants#and they care even less about Oliver and#how he has talked this season about him#having wanted queer!Buck for a while and#was planning to play him as bisexual this#year no matter what his storyline would be#Oliver wanted queer!Buck and clearly ships#Buddie so what is there to question really
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“never is a promise” | 12.4k
old man!logan x f!reader
SUMMARY: You are everything Logan isn’t: sweet, trouble-free, much younger—and, to top it off, Charles' caregiver.
WARNINGS/TAGS: mdni smut 18+ mentions of drinking. angst. some fluff. old man!logan x caregiver!reader. implied age gap (reader’s in her twenties). miscommunication. slow burn. pining. reader is shorter than logan and has long hair. charles in his cupid era. petnames. minor injuries. wound tending. mentions of blood. virgin!reader. dirty talk. cum shots. fingering. handjobs. oral sex (m receiving). loving sex. sex with a lot of feelings (is that a tag?). unprotected p in v.
A/N: i just want to fall in love with him. that’s it. that’s the reason why i wrote this long ass fic 😭 while doing so, i had “never is a promise” by fiona apple and “cool about it” by boygenius on repeat. give them a try if you haven’t listened to them (your lives will be CHANGED) (also, thank you for reading <3)
No matter how often you play chess with Charles, you never manage to beat him.
“You’ve been staring at that knight for five minutes. It’s not going anywhere, I promise.”
Chuckling at his sarcasm, you fold your hands in your lap, lifting your eyebrows in mock surrender. “Okay, I get it. You’re the master of chess,” leaning back in the chair, you cross one leg over the other. “Can we play something else?”
“I’m quite entertained, thank you,” Charles says, sliding the board closer to you across the table. “Your turn.”
“How is it that you don’t get tired of this game?” you mutter under your breath, eyes fixed on the board as you weigh your options, hovering your hand indecisively over the chess pieces.
“Please do something before I’m forced to make a dash for the toilet.” He hangs his head, pinching the bridge of his nose—a telltale sign of one of his irritable days.
His words spur you into action, encouraging you to finally slide the knight into position. You glance up, meeting his gaze with a hint of challenge. “You go now.”
Charles doesn’t hesitate, and he moves a bishop. “Check.”
Fuck. You hadn’t seen that coming. “I’d prefer to walk away with my pride,” you joke, pushing your chair back and pretending to lose interest in the board.
That makes him smirk, a barely there grin dangling on the corners of his wrinkled lips. The truth is, you wouldn’t stop playing for anything in the world—not even if this old man kicks your ass every single time he suggests playing chess. “You’re not out of the game yet.”
Quietness settles over the tank while you allow yourself some time to come up with a new strategy. After a moment, you decide to go for a pawn, using it to block his bishop.
He doesn’t stop grinning, studying your move with an amused glint in his blue eyes. “Not bad, but you’ve left your king exposed.”
You gape at the board, your fragile confidence faltering for a split second. "I still have some pieces in play."
Charles nods, his brows drawing together in thoughtful consideration. "True. But sometimes, it’s not about how many pieces you have left—” He reaches out, carefully sliding his queen across the board. "It’s about where you place them.” He relaxes, hunching over, his eyes searching for yours. A smile that’s all teeth welcomes you. “Checkmate."
“Damn.” You blow out your cheeks, your gaze tracing the path of his queen. Somehow, he’s trapped your king with no easy way out.
He leans back with a satisfied grin. “That’s three games in a row. My suggestion is that you start rethinking your strategy.”
“Or maybe you’re just a better player,” you admit, a mix of frustration and admiration palpable in your tone. “No more chess for today, though.” You stand up from your seat, gathering the board and chess pieces. As usual, they find their place under Charles’ bed, and you turn back to him, beaming with delight. “I think you owe me one after all this.”
“You’re a terrible loser, my dear,” he says, his eyes twinkling as they take you in. “Reminds me of someone I know.”
At that exact moment, you hear the familiar creak of the tank’s door opening, followed by a cough you immediately recognize.
Without thinking, you straighten your back as Logan steps into the room. Charles notices it, but says nothing in return.
It was an infatuation—or at least, that’s what you try to convince yourself of. Logan is a very good-looking man, probably the most handsome you’ve ever laid eyes on.
The fact that you live with him doesn’t help at all. You think that if you only saw him occasionally, this—this anxiety that grips you whenever he’s around or when you hear his voice—wouldn’t happen in the first place.
Whether it’s good or bad luck, you’ve been sleeping under the same roof as him for over a year, and the crush you’ve had since the first time you exchanged words with him only seems to grow stronger with each passing day.
What you figure out over time is that men like Logan aren’t the dating type. He’s never brought anyone home, and for that, you’re secretly grateful. The last thing you need is to see him with another woman—thank you very much. Still, the thought gnaws at you: he could easily be meeting someone elsewhere.
In fact, it’s more than likely that he’s hooking up with other people. It doesn’t have to be at—
Alright. You don’t need this either.
Logan’s heavy footsteps resonate even louder, his presence more imposing, and he seems especially pissed off. Then again, he always has that demeanor—angry, grumpy, locked in a constant battle with life.
But today… today, you haven’t seen him this troubled in weeks.
“Look who’s joined us,” Charles mumbles, steering his motorized chair to meet him halfway. The chair bumps against Logan’s legs with a thud that sounds almost cartoonish, and Charles scrunches up his nose, his nostrils flaring in disgust. “You smell like shit.”
“Yeah, I missed you too, Pop,” Logan grunts, shoving his hand into the pocket of his suit, searching for something. That’s when you notice the bloodstains on his shirt, smeared across his chest, and the missing buttons at the top. Your breath catches in your throat, and you bite your tongue to keep from asking any foolish questions. “They gave me new ones,” he mutters, looking you in the eye as he tosses the pill bottle at you.
You leap forward to catch it mid-air, your heart skipping a beat. Logan holds your gaze for a moment longer, his expression unreadable, before giving a slight nod and turning on his heel to storm out of the tank.
When your attention goes back to Charles, you see how his eyes remain locked on the pills you’re holding, his head lowering in defeat. “He’s waiting for me to die.”
“Don’t say that.” You squat to be at his eye level, momentarily hiding the meds from his view. Still, you struggle to make him shift his gaze. “He’s taking care of you, which is something completely different.” You place your hand on top of his knee, giving it a reassuring squeeze. You’ve had this same conversation innumerable times, yet each time feels like the first. He offers you a melancholic but knowing look as you softly say: “You have to take them, Charles. I’m sorry.”
He raises a hand, his trembling fingers curling around your wrist, examining you, trying to find an answer in the lines. “Don’t be. At least you’re here.”
“I’m sure Logan’s tired; that’s why he doesn’t stay any longer. Haven’t you seen him?” You rise to your feet, moving behind him to guide his chair. The tank sort of has a chill in the air, metallic walls that seem to press in around you both. “Besides, you wouldn’t want to play chess with him. Rest assured I’ll always let you win,” you murmur next to his ear, succeeding in eliciting a chuckle from him.
After that, you help him with his daily routine. Charles isn’t heavy, and you manage to get him onto the bed, his frail body yielding to your gentle support.
You slip the rest of his body beneath the blankets, tucking him in carefully before handing him two pills and a glass of water. “All the way down, okay? And I wanna see that tongue after you swallow them.”
If looks could kill, you’d be six feet under, covered in dust and dirt. Charles sticks his tongue out, putting the glass down on his nightstand. “Happy?”
“You’ve got no idea how much,” you say, adjusting the covers. The silence of the tank surrounds you both, and you can sense his gaze lingering on you. You flick your eyes up, furrowing your brows as you sit in the small space beside him on the mattress. “What is it?”
“You fancy him, don’t you?”
Freezing on the spot, your eyes narrow. “I—I don’t—” you trail off, pushing the words out with some effort. “Are you trying to read my mind?”
His whole chest rumbles with laughter under your touch. He finds your hand once again, intertwining your fingers with his. “Don’t be so naïve. I don’t need my abilities to see the way you get all flustered when he passes by. Why do you think they say older people are wiser?” he inquires, his lips forming a straight line. “We’ve lived too much not to notice the most common things, my dear—and let me tell you that you do a horrible job at pretending.”
“Of course I like him. Logan’s a good man, he keeps us safe.” You glance down at your hands—his, weak and delicate, in evident contrast to your own. “I’m not in love with him, Cupid.”
“Oh, you should’ve seen him years ago,” Charles says, his eyes glazing over as he drifts back into the past. His body remains here, within the confines of the room, but his mind is elsewhere, somewhere far away. You give his hand a gentle tug, trying to bring him back. “When we took him in, he was pursuing a career as a cage fighter. I had never seen anyone like him in all my years of educating mutants. He was so… different from the rest. Reserved, didn’t talk much at first. But I gave him a family, I—” His voice falters, overcome by his own emotions.
That’s when you realize he’s no longer with you, his gaze unfocused, looking around the tank as if seeing it for the first time. It pains you to see him like this, completely disoriented and disconnected from reality.
“Why are we here? What has happened to the rest? Has he told you anything?”
These are the questions he asks every day without fail—questions that you can’t, nor want, to answer. Since you’re not exactly sure the explanation would soothe his troubled mind, you feel forced to play dumb.
“I don’t know, Charles. We don’t really talk that much, Logan and I.” You stand from the bed, not without pressing a chaste kiss to his forehead before. You smile at him, hoping he doesn’t realize the gesture lacks authenticity. “Why don’t you get some rest? I’ll let you know if I hear anything worth sharing.”
Once you close the door behind you, you settle back into it, releasing a shaky breath. Being Charles’ caregiver was a challenging task, especially in moments like these, which required immense internal strength not to crumble in front of him.
You squeeze your eyes shut as you adjust to the harsh sunlight, fighting to regain your composure. When you finally scan the area, the only thing that meets your eye is the deserted smelting plant you now call home.
You open the sliding door, the noise breaking the stillness and forcing Logan to look up from his plate. He’s eating like a starved man, casually drinking from a small bottle of whisky on the table, already half of it gone. After those long drives through the nights and the early hours, he always returns hungry.
You pour yourself a cup of coffee, setting it on the stove to heat. Neither of you says anything for a few minutes: he eats, and you sip your hot coffee in silence, not wishing to disturb the breakable peace that hangs by a thread.
Thinking this is how the noon will continue, you begin to walk toward your room until he clears his throat, stopping you in your tracks. That simple gesture makes you whirl around, anticipating something.
“This is delicious,” he acknowledges, pointing to his plate with his fork, the rice with veggies and meat you cooked last night nearly gone. Dipping his chin, he adds in a low voice: “Thank you.”
You’re taken aback by his unexpected willingness to engage in conversation. Moments like these are as rare as seeing Halley’s Comet, so you proceed with caution, as if you’re approaching a skittish animal—one wrong move, and the opportunity is lost.
Setting your mug down on the table, you sit on the chair opposite him. Deep down, the hammering of your heart echoes in your ears, and you hope his sharp senses don’t pick up on it.
“I’m glad you liked it. Charles ate two bowls of it,” you explain, unable to suppress a smile. Logan hums, tilting his head to the side as he keeps devouring his meal. You take another sip of your coffee, blowing on it in a futile attempt to cool it down. “He wants to talk to you.”
“Huh?”
“Charles. He—he asks to see you a lot,” you begin, carefully choosing your words. “I know it’s none of my business, but I think it would make him feel better if you spent more time with him.”
The sound of a distant train rumbles through the walls, amplifying the silence between you. Logan doesn’t utter a word; instead, he puts down his fork, the clinking noise making you jump slightly, the intensity of his stare becoming overwhelming.
“You’re right about one thing—what I do or don’t do is none of your goddamn business.”
Just like that, the buildup dissolves in a matter of seconds. You bite down on the inside of your cheek, nodding absentmindedly. “I’m sorry,” you murmur, feeling a wave of shame wash over you. How stupid were you to think he might want to talk to you? “I just—I want to be of help.”
“Just take care of Charles. That’s all you gotta worry about, all I’ve ever asked you to do,” he barks, clenching his jaw, and you can tell he means each word.
When he talks to you in this tone, it makes you think more rationally—it reminds you that you don’t really know him, and yet you agreed to work for him in exchange for a roof over your head and food on your plate. He’s not your friend, and he’s excellent at making that crystal clear every time you cross the line.
Logan pushes you away like you’re nothing, like you’re just another of the many burdens he has to deal with.
It should be enough to send you running to your room, but despite the knot tightening in your belly, you somehow remain rooted in place, your eyes sharp like daggers.
As another train echoes in the silence, you come to terms with the knowledge that one more question will drive him away.
And sometimes, you speak before you think, as you do now: “Whose blood is that on your shirt?” you ask, voice steady and cold. Perhaps it’s you who wants him to leave this time.
He shakes his head with offense, frustration crinkling his eyes. “I don’t need this shit,” he groans, his gruff voice loud enough for you to hear it. He gets up from the table, placing his plate in the sink without much delicacy. At last, he heads to his room, slamming the door with a deafening thud that reverberates through the entire place.
It’s not a crush, that voice deep inside you insists as you’re left alone in the kitchen. And it’s valid: a mere crush wouldn't cause this kind of pain, wouldn’t make your chest feel this heavy and your limbs numb.
Whenever he leaves, he takes a part of you with him, never to be returned. By now, you’re certain he’s stolen all those missing pieces from you, and you’ve got no idea how much longer you can endure before you shatter completely.
You seem to have won this battle, but what you end up losing is far greater than any fleeting gratification.
Loving Logan is maddening, to say the least.
To this day, you still recall every detail of the night that altered the course of your life—the night you met Logan.
The memories are rather vivid in your mind, and you revisit that moment on nights like these, when you can’t sleep and the past appears to be much more appealing than your present.
Pressing your cheek against the cold pillow, you let your eyelids drop, reconstructing the full scene behind your sealed eyes.
It was your third week working at that restaurant, and you were still getting used to its daily rhythm. Waitressing was working wonders for you—you had a good memory, and people often gave you generous tips.
Everything was going well: you were the only waitress on shift, and your boss had left for a brief errand, promising he would be back soon.
During this lull, a group of men entered the restaurant, already drunk or high—probably both. They sat at one of the empty tables, immediately calling for you.
One of them, a tall blonde, was the loudest. “Come here, baby.” He pointed his finger at you, gesturing for you to approach him. The nickname felt wrong rolling off his tongue, and as you obliged, he shoved a handful of bills into the front pocket of your apron. He clutched your waist, dragging you nearer. “I’m getting married tomorrow. Think you can do something special for me?”
His friends cheered him on, laughing and pounding their fists on the table. You managed to slip from his grasp and asked them what they wanted to order.
While they took their time deciding, you noticed a limousine parked in the distance, probably the vehicle that had brought these morons here. The driver rolled down his window, hanging his arm from the armrest.
Though you couldn’t see his features, the interaction alone was enough to make you look away.
An hour went by, and the men refused to take off. They’d eaten, drunk, and danced—and driven you crazy in the process. The rest of the customers had decided to leave once they realized the night was far from finishing for the noisy group of friends. You apologized, feeling incapable of doing anything to change the situation.
Your sanity felt threatened as you turned off the TV, ending the sixth round of karaoke, their shouts and hoots ringing in your ears.
“We’re closing in ten minutes,” you informed them, starting to collect their dirty plates and glasses. Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted the blonde man standing right beside you, his piercing blue eyes burning holes through your skin. He attempted to graze your shoulder, but you quickly stepped back, keeping a safe distance between you. “How do you plan to pay? Cash or credit?”
“How about with a kiss, huh?” He inched forward, his face dangerously close to yours. Unaccustomed to being approached in this manner, you ducked your head, unsure of your next move. His breath reeked of beer and vodka, a horrendous combination that had you nearly gagging on the spot.
As he backed you against the counter, one of his large hands cradled your face, urging you to make eye contact with him. “I swear I can be very, very nice. You haven’t given me the chance to show it yet.”
“Hey, pal. You said one hour.”
The first time you heard his voice—low and husky, the kind that could send shivers down your spine.
Your eyes locked with Logan’s, your pleading gaze seemingly stirring something in him as he got a grip on the situation. His brows bumped together in a scowl, and you didn’t miss how he limped as he made his way into the restaurant.
There was something about him—how he moved, his stance—that felt strangely familiar.
“We’re busy in here, chauffeur,” the blue-eyed man protested, slightly losing his balance while still holding your cheek.
Your rescuer squared off against him, their noses practically brushing. He worked his jaw, his half-lidded, tired eyes taking in the sight of you. “I’m no fortune-teller, but I don’t think she’s into you, bub.”
“Come again?” the blonde guy released you, much more concerned with defending his bruised pride. “What’s the matter, Grandpa? Is it past your bedtime?”
“I want you to pay me for the ride, and for waiting a fucking hour and a half for you and your friends,” the older man spat, jerking his thumb toward the limousine. “I’m not taking you back to the hotel. You might want to start looking’ for another driver.”
The group of men closed in around him, their anger bubbling. “That’s not cool, dude. We had a deal,” another voice snapped, but Logan couldn’t seem to care less.
“Well, the deal’s off. And leave the girl alone, will you?” he retorted, his tone dripping with disdain. “So, where’s my money?”
He couldn’t have predicted it. One of the men behind him swung a plate, striking him in the nape and catching him off guard. Logan collapsed to the floor, clutching his head in pain. The others took the opportunity and began to pummel him, kicks and punches landing wherever they could.
You screamed at the top of your lungs, desperately trying to intervene. You grabbed at their clothes, digging your fingernails into every patch of exposed skin you could find, but they shoved you aside with brutal force. Your back slammed against the nearest wall, a jolt of sudden pain making you wince.
The blood in your veins turned to ice as you watched, paralyzed with fear that they might kill him. But then—
Three metallic claws emerged from his knuckles, and he used them to push himself upright. Despite the blood smeared across his nose and mouth, he managed to stand, his quickened breathing coming out in short puffs.
The men backed away in shock, leaving him alone amidst the chaos.
You stared at him, your hands trembling as recognition dawned: it was The Wolverine.
The familiarity, the sense of having seen him before, all made sense now. It all flooded back in a rush—the comics, the news, the rumors.
“Get the hell outta my sight,” he growled, pressing his claws against the fabric of the blue-eyed man’s jacket, making him flinch.
You couldn’t make out what you were feeling. It wasn’t fear, but intrigue. Even as the group of men fled the restaurant, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from him. At first, he avoided your gaze, focusing on his shoes as he retracted his claws.
Once the immediate danger had passed, he slumped forward, groaning. You gently draped one of his arms around your shoulders and helped him into a nearby chair. His weight felt like a thousand bricks, but you accomplished to get him seated.
He rubbed a shaky hand over his graying beard, his face twisting in pain as you pressed a makeshift towel of napkins against his lower lip, where blood continued to flow.
Taking the towel from you, he continued tending to himself. You scanned his features, scrutinizing him.
“You are…” you began, the words feeling inadequate at the moment.
Logan nodded hesitantly, his silence confirming your suspicion. “Yeah, that’s me,” he tugged at his shirt collar, exposing some of his chest hair, fresh blood staining his work clothes. Your gaze fell there, and you quickly chided yourself.
The poor guy was bleeding, and you were checking him out. Jeez.
Kneeling by his side, you introduced yourself. “Thank you for stepping up for me,” you said afterward, and he shook his head dismissively. “They were a pain in the ass. I don’t know how you even managed to drive them here.”
“Money’s money, darlin’. Doesn’t matter where it comes from, as long as—” he was interrupted by a coughing fit, and your concern deepened as you continued to spot more of his injuries. “I’ll heal,” he reassured you, his expression softening in an attempt to calm your anxiety.
Your eyes pierced his with an intensity that seemed to unsettle him. Warmth crept into your cheeks as a question surfaced in your mind: “Is there anything I can do for you?”
“You don’t owe me anything, kid,” he replied, a hint of gruffness in his voice.
“But I could help you,” you persisted, your voice betraying a touch of eagerness. Stifling a cough, you tried to mask your enthusiasm, and sighed. “Are you hungry? I could cook you something, or pour you a drink. We’ve got plenty of liquor—”
Logan interrupted you, placing the towel down on the table. “Have you ever taken care of an old person?”
Tilting your head, you considered his question. “How old?”
“Ninety-somethin’.”
You nodded, memories of the events from years ago surfacing. “I lived with my grandparents for most of my life. When they fell ill, I spent a lot of time with them. My mom had to work long hours, and I—well, the point is, I did take care of them,” you paused for an instant, his expression unreadable, though you perceived a slight relaxation in his posture, as if your answer had put him at ease. “I like being around old people. They have stories to tell,” you added, a genuine smile breaking through, “and I’m a good listener.”
“Then I suppose there is somethin’ you can help me with.”
And so began a new chapter in your life.
The very next day, you were moving in with him and Charles. It took several weeks for the latter to warm up to you and get used to your presence.
Initially, he was hopeful that you might also be a mutant, but his disappointment was palpable when he discovered you lacked any supernatural gifts. Leaving that aside, he valued your company.
“The shots mellow the seizures. The pills keep them from happening,” Logan had once explained, detailing the medications Charles needed. You recalled the psychic attack from a year ago and its consequences, but that wasn’t a topic to be discussed with Logan, and you understood why.
“Where do you get these?” you asked, examining the bottle of pills with a curious glance. “Without a prescription, I mean.”
“Oh, you don’t wanna know.”
Soon, you got adapted to the whole package: his unpredictable temperament, his mood swings, and his nightmares. Logan Howlett was a puzzle box of surprises, one you could never quite unlock.
Fast forward to the present day, you realize it must be already late, because Logan’s heading to work. You stand on your tiptoes, peering out of your bedroom window. Your humid breath fogs the glass as his eyes find yours, and then he slips into the vehicle, blending into the shadows of the night.
The distant rumble of his limousine signals his departure, your forehead pressed against the glass, as if somehow that could take you with him.
There goes another piece of you.
You find yourself shaving Charles the moment worry takes over your senses.
He’s retelling a familiar story: that one time Logan, Scott, Jean, and Storm saved Rogue from Magneto.
On any other day, you wouldn’t mind listening to his stories, despite having heard them countless times. This one in particular is your favorite.
But today, it’s hard to focus on it, even more when one of its main characters is missing in action.
Logan hasn’t come back home yet.
It’s been an entire day, and he’s usually back by morning to rest. Now, after having cooked dinner and helping Charles shower, you’ve run out of distractions. There’s nothing left to occupy your thoughts, nothing to ease the building anxiety gnawing at you.
You texted him multiple times—no answer. You even called—also nothing. Every time Charles asks if Logan’s at work or sleeping, the knot in your chest tightens. That’s when your mind starts to spiral, and you’re convinced you’ll burst any moment.
After putting him to bed, you pace the kitchen, picking at your nails and biting the raw skin around them. The sting of pain is there, but it’s faint, not enough to overshadow the real fear clawing at your insides.
All these what-ifs that storm through your mind make you feel nauseous: what if he’s dead? What would you do with Charles? How would you provide for both of you without a salary?
Just as you’re about to dial his number again, Logan materializes out of thin air through the sliding door.
He’s got a dark bruise under his right eye, and his once-white shirt is littered with bloodstains. You stare at him—he’s limping harder than usual, each of his movements slower.
Walking towards him, your hands cup his face. His skin feels rough beneath your fingers, and he lets out a grunt as you graze his split lip. “What happened?”
“They were followin’ me. Had been doin’ so for a few days now,” he says, making no effort to pull away.
“Did you kill them?” you wonder out loud, still inspecting his injuries. The pad of your thumb hovers inches away from his bruised mouth.
Covering your hands with his, Logan ducks his head, closing his eyes for a brief second and swallowing thickly. “Somebody had to do it, sweetheart.”
You limit yourself to a nod, because you know there’s nothing you can reproach him for. You were no stranger to the idea of him killing. It was an implicit truth between you.
“I thought—I was so scared, and I—” your voice wavers, and you feel your eyes watering, the tears prickling at the corners. “I thought you—”
He doesn’t let you finish, already knowing how it would end. “Hey, look at me,” he’s the one touching you now, tilting your chin up. Your eyes keep flickering over the cuts and old scars you spot on his cheeks, his neck. Logan forces a pained smile, unable to hide his discomfort. “It’s fine, I’m alright. Just a bit fucked up, but nothin’ you haven’t seen before,” he jokes, trying to lighten the mood, and it works. You bite your lower lip, suppressing your grin. “I always come back, don’t I?”
“But you can barely stand,” you whisper, not sure why you’re speaking so softly. You make him turn his back to you, helping him shrug off his coat. As expected, remnants of dried blood decorate his shirt like highlights. “Let me help you.”
“I don’t—”
”There are cuts all over your back. And your chest—you’re not healing properly,” you say, turning him to face you again. The look on his face suggests only one thing: he’s about to throw in the towel. “You don’t have to do everything on your own.” You think you’ve never been this close before, his proximity both intoxicating and comforting at the same time. “Please.”
He ends up giving in to your persuasion, allowing you to guide him to the bathroom. Logan sits down on the toilet, watching you gather supplies to clean his wounds. When you come back, he’s still staring at you, his eyelashes fluttering together each time he blinks.
Starting with his cheek, you press a damp towel to his skin, and he hisses. It takes everything in you not to flinch in sympathy.
“How’s Charles?” he asks, probably trying to distract himself as you continue to clean his wounds, the towel darkening with his blood over time.
“He’s doing great. Asked for you a lot, actually,” you take a look at his jaw, where one shallow cut is already starting to fade away thanks to his healing ability, something that never fails to amaze you.
Logan hums, tilting his head. ”I’ll check on him in the morning,” he murmurs, and you flash him a quick smile, finishing with his face. He’s now free of dirt and blood, his brows furrowing as he pauses to collect his thoughts. “The other day, when we talked—”
You cut him off, turning to the sink as you rinse the towel, watching the water get red. “Forget it.”
“No, it wasn’t okay—how I acted,” he stands up from the toilet, and you feel his presence behind you, the alarm inside your head going off as the space between you shrinks. “I know you just want what’s best for him. For us. I’m sorry I was a jerk,” his voice comes out even huskier at this time of the night, sounding afraid of waking someone, even though it’s just the two of you here.
“Apology accepted,” you swirl around to meet his gaze, only to find yourself nose-to-nose with him, and you lean back against the sink, your spine pressed into the cool surface.
Logan places his hands on both sides of the vanity, caging you with his body. Like the most beautiful tree, he stands tall in front of you, and you take a deep breath, getting drunk on his distinctive scent. “Are you… okay?”
You watch as he lowers his head, pursing his lips before muttering: “Imma need you to do something more for me,” he says, almost pleading, and you can’t avoid the amount of thoughts that rush into your mind.
Gone was your decency when you had to deal with him.
That’s when he looks up to find your eyes, his harsh expression evolving into a more vulnerable one. “Have you ever removed a bullet?”
If you thought listening to Logan’s nightmares was painful, nothing could have prepared you for the sounds he makes while you pull several bullets from his wounds.
He sits shirtless in front of you, grunting at each of your careful movements. As you remove one bullet lodged near his ribs, Logan practically yells, and you rest your cheek against his, desperate to ease his suffering.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Almost done,” you whisper into his ear, hoping your words might bring him some relief. He lets his head fall forward, resting it on your shoulder, trusting you enough to tend to his injuries, his thoughts drifting elsewhere.
It takes you half an hour to clean both his chest and back, but Logan doesn’t complain. When you’re finished, he goes straight to his room, flopping onto his bed, the mattress creaking under his weight. You see the way his chest rises and falls rapidly, his breathing still labored.
You wish you could lie beside him, even just for a few minutes, but your last shred of self-control stops you from doing such a thing.
“Get some sleep,” you say leaning against the doorframe, your advice sounding more like a plea. He looks exhausted, dark circles sunken beneath his eyes.
Logan lets out a bitter laugh. “Do I look that bad?”
You roll your eyes at that, your fingers curling around the doorknob. Glancing back at him over your shoulder, you catch something in his look—a glimmer of something you struggle to put into words, but you decide not to look further into it. “Good night, Logan.”
“Good night, darlin’—and thank you,” he murmurs, holding your gaze until the door shuts between you.
Then you sprint to your room, gently closing the door before biting back a smile, replaying the last hour in your mind. How close to you he had been, how comfortable he seemed around you.
You hadn’t just crossed lines—you’d broken them. You almost pinch yourself to make sure you weren’t dreaming.
Somehow, your racing mind calms down, and you fall asleep, one hand tucked beneath the pillow, the other resting against your chest.
You’re a light sleeper. The sound of something shattering wakes you, leaving you startled and disoriented.
Dawn is just breaking, the first rays of sunlight slipping through your window. You sit up, pricking up your ears as you scratch the back of your head, listening attentively.
Logan’s voice filters into your room—he lets out a string of profanities, and you stifle a giggle, throwing off your covers and putting on a sweatshirt that matches your pajamas.
Barefoot, you walk down the hall, stopping at the kitchen’s entrance. Logan is kneeling beside the table, gathering the shards of a broken mug. It seems like he’s just gotten out of the shower, tiny droplets of water trailing down his neck.
“That was my favorite one,” you say in a low voice, teasing him. His back muscles flex under the material of his shirt, and he turns to look at you, his expression a silent apology. “I take it you’re not using your glasses?”
“I’m gonna stop you right there.” Rising to his feet, he grunts, digging his fingers into his lower back with a grimace. “They’re called readers for a reason.”
You decide to let him have that one, grabbing a new mug from the shelf and handing it to him. He accepts it, thanking you, and fills it with freshly brewed coffee.
“Was it a nightmare?” you ask, watching as he sinks into the couch, spreading his thighs apart with a sigh while you take a seat at the table instead.
Logan gives a nod, sipping some of his coffee. “At least I slept for a few hours.”
“Are you really going to stay up? It’s pretty early.” You stretch your arms over your head, a yawn escaping you before you can hold it back.
“Wouldn’t be the first time.”
You hesitate for a moment, but then comes your question: “Can I join you?” You prop your elbows on your knees, any trace of sleepiness now gone with the wind.
He squints his eyes, his unrelenting stare boring into you. “Feel free.”
So here you are, studying him as he drinks his coffee, his fingers wrapped tightly around the ceramic. There are so many things you want to ask him—about how he’s feeling, if his wounds have healed—but it seems you’ve entered a silent staring contest without even knowing it.
Not that you mind him looking at you—you just want to know the reason why.
You snort, and he arches a brow. “Do I have something on my face?” You decide to ask him, straightening your back.
“I guess I can’t help but wonder why you agreed to all of this,” he says, setting the mug down with a soft clink. By this, you understand he’s referring to being Charles’ caregiver and leaving your old job behind. “I mean—you could be doing better things with your life. Why would you choose to do this?”
“I told you before: I wanted to help you,” you shrug, trying to keep your tone light even as your stomach tightens with nerves. You watch as Logan folds his arms, the muscles of his biceps becoming more visible. “Plus, I love being around Charles.
“I don’t think people your age would be that interested in spending their days like this,” he says, and you toy with a lock of your hair, wrapping it around your finger.
“Well, good thing I’m not like most people my age then.”
His silence hangs heavy in the air until he speaks again. “What do you mean by that?”
“You know that feeling when life seems like a race? And you just have to keep up with certain things that everybody else is doing, or you’ll be left behind?” You pause, the words falling more naturally than you’d expected.
Logan nods, making it seem like he understands what you’re trying to say. Whether he truly does it or not, you don’t know.
“When my friends started going to parties, getting boyfriends… I couldn’t. My family wouldn’t let me. And even when I could, it felt like it wasn’t really what I wanted.”
Inhaling sharply, you stop yourself. The conversation suddenly feels far too personal.
“You never had a boyfriend?” He gets more comfortable on the couch, his voice gruff as he rubs his chin, waiting for a reply.
A familiar heat settles between your legs. “I went out with some guys, but it never led to anything serious,” you say, your cheeks getting warmer the more details you share with him. “I guess I wasn’t the kind of girl they were looking for,” you add, not missing the way his lips twitch momentarily.
“How could they not want you?”
“They didn’t think like you do.”
“That’s because they were boys, not men,” he mutters, his gaze dropping to your hands before returning to your face. “Did they treat you right, those boys?”
Swallowing hard, you can hardly register the uncertainty in your own voice. “I mean… yes, I think they did. They were nice to me.”
There it is—the faintest hint of a smirk dancing on his lips. “Nice doesn’t mean good, though.”
You dig your nails onto the table, your pulse quickening, trying to hide how affected you are by his words. “What is it that you want to know?”
“Come sit with me, doll.”
Doll. Doll. Doll. Inside your chest, your heart gallops, your legs trembling as you get off the table, moving closer to him.
Feeling lighter with every step you take, you plop down beside him, and Logan sits straighter, his knees almost bumping into yours.
You can’t bring yourself to look at him—this is happening, just like in your filthiest dreams.
His hand slides up to yours, not applying any sort of pressure. He scrutinizes your skin, bringing your hand to his lips, and he presses a kiss to the inside of your wrist.
It tickles, it burns—it ignites a fire inside you, one you know you can’t ignore. A gasp attempts to escape you, but you suppress it.
“Did you let them touch you?” he whispers, attaching his mouth to your neck, brushing the sensitive spot where your jaw and ear meet.
This time, you moan, any possible rational thoughts turning into putty, melting with the way he’s touching you. “Logan,” you purr his name, begging for something, anything he’s willing to give you. Your thighs, once shoved together, spread of their own accord, and you hear him click his tongue.
“I asked you something.” His teeth graze your pulse point, forcing you to close your eyes.
“I didn’t. They wanted to, but I—I wouldn’t let them,” you answer, and as if he’s rewarding you, his fingers begin to tug on the hem of your sweatshirt, rolling it up your body and over your head. He tosses it to the floor, admiring you.
“Why?”
Goddamn.
“Because I was waiting for the right guy,” you manage to get out, grasping his hand and positioning it on top of your right breast, encouraging him to go on with what he had started. His pupils widen further, and he squeezes your tit roughly, eliciting a moan from you. “I think I’ve found him.”
Logan scans your face, searching for any sign of repentance in your expression. “I’m going to hell for this,” he murmurs under his breath, his hard-on noticeable through his tented sweatpants. “Lay down.” You obey his command, easing yourself onto the couch, and sinking into the cushions as he presses himself to your side.
He peppers your neck with kisses, playing with the waistband of your shorts. “I’m not gonna kiss you, but I’ll make you feel good. Just this time, ‘kay? And we don’t talk about it.”
You accept his offer, knowing that you’ll probably regret it in a couple of hours. Right now, it doesn’t matter. You need his electrifying touch, his fingers, his—
With a swift motion, your shorts are yanked down your legs, and his calloused hands part your thighs even wider. A damp spot on your underwear sells you out, and his thumb rubs gentle circles over that area, causing you to lift your hips.
“So this is what you look like when you touch yourself, huh?” He edges his fingers closer to your clit, his breath tickling your ear, and he dips his tongue into your collarbone. “I hear you all the fuckin’ time. You’re not as quiet as you think.”
It should embarrass you, the fact that he has listened to you pleasuring yourself. But in a moment like this, it only succeeds in fuelling your desire. “Please. You said you’d make me feel good.”
“And I will, but you’re greedy as hell,” he says, his movements more deliberate now. You feel hot all over as he pulls your panties to the side, exposing your glistening cunt.
Logan’s on the verge of drooling all over you, reaching for your folds and spreading your wetness. “Men aren’t strong creatures, honey. You’ve got no idea how hard it is to hold back.”
“D-don’t hold back,” you stutter, losing your composure when he returns to your clit, his fingers coated in your arousal while they flick your swollen bud. “Oh, Logan…”
“You make the prettiest sounds,” he rasps, mouthing at your jaw, though as you try to kiss him, he slows his pace. “What’s wrong? Am I not giving you enough?”
“Sorry. I’m sorry,” you whisper, fascinated by how big his fingers look in comparison to your pussy. “I’m just—”
“Needy, I know,” he finishes for you, and he picks up his merciless rhythm again. Heat pools in your lower abdomen, and you can’t help but arch your back every time he teases you, grazing your entrance with his middle finger. “Don’t get ahead of yourself.”
You dig your nails into his arm, relishing the way his body responds to your touch. He grinds his cock against your hip, his teeth nipping at the column of your neck. “I want to come. Please, make me come,” you sob, letting out a shaky breath.
A thin sheen of sweat covers your forehead, and Logan locks eyes with you after what feels like an eternity. “Please, Lo.”
The nickname snaps something inside of him. His fingers circle your clit with a fervency you hadn’t experienced before, your pleasure seemingly being his primary focus. “The shit I’d do for you.”
You warn him, telling him you’re close—so so so close—until the fire in your belly flares, and blood rushes to your ears. You collapse against him, holding his hand firmly against your core, hips jerking as you ride your orgasm.
The world narrows down to this—this moment, your most desired fantasy.
Logan holds you as you go limp in his arms, rubbing your clit ever so slightly, murmuring soft praises. “Y’did so good, sweetheart,” he whispers, planting a kiss on your temple, burying his nose in your hair. You’re still out of breath, the pulsing between your parted legs persisting long after your release. “Told you you weren’t quiet.”
A giggle bubbles up from your chest, his beard tickling you as he slides his hands up under your shirt, finding your nipples.
“It was n-nice,” you tell him, your voice faltering the more he toys with your hardened peaks. Your skin heats up again, heart racing at the thought that he isn’t done with you yet.
“Just nice?” One of his hands makes its way back into your pussy, ghosting his fingers over your hole, and he smirks when he feels you squirm. “You surely know how to hurt a man’s pride.”
“I wasn’t—I didn’t mean to—” You can’t structure a proper sentence, not when he’s playing with you like this.
Logan rubs your arousal between his fingers, as though he wants you to see how slick you still are, even after coming. “Are you going to touch me again?”
He hums, feigning uncertainty. “What do you think, baby? Should I make you come with my fingers now?”
It’s like a switch flips in your mind. He knows exactly how to make you beg and which buttons to push, using that power to his advantage. “Yes, please. I want it,” you plead, intending to buck your hips into his touch, impatient for more.
“Do you fuck yourself with your fingers?”
“Sometimes, but I can never finish—Oh my God.” He slips one finger inside you, causing you to curse, your voice barely above a whisper. You clench around the intrusion, your head falling back onto the cushions. “Fuck me.”
“In a minute.” He begins to thrust his finger in and out, gathering your juices every time he goes back to hammering that sweet spot in your interior. Soon, one finger becomes two, and he reduces you to a panting mess.
Tears threaten to swell in your eyes, and you whine as he involves his other hand in the matter, furiously rubbing your clit. “Your fingers feel much better than m-mine, Lo.”
“I can tell.” He curls them just right, and you push back against his thrusts, tilting your pelvis to meet him halfway. “There you go. Take what you need, sweetheart. I’m right here, I’ve got you.”
Everything feels frenzied, fast, the way your inner walls spam and contract around his fingers as you chase your second climax.
Once you come down from your high, your blurred vision catches him tugging the waistband of his sweatpants down. His cock springs free, and he fists himself, stroking his length angrily.
You watch as some pre-cum dribbles from the head, and you lean forward, watching it closely.
“You look goddamn beautiful when you come, darlin’,” he murmurs through gritted teeth, his jaw clenched tight. Hovering over you, he rucks your shirt up until he can see your tits from above. He alternates between your breasts, squeezing them while he continues to stroke his girth. “Want to see these all dirty.”
Logan truly loses it when your hand reaches out to him, tracing a bulging vein near the head of his cock. You meet his lustful gaze, batting your lashes, and then you feel his come splashing against your bare chest, a choked moan escaping Logan’s throat, spurts of his hot seed landing on your skin.
“Fuckin’ hell… fuck,” he grunts, still tugging at his cock, enamored with the masterpiece he’s created. When it’s finally over, he lies beside you, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. You run your fingers through his hair, and he nuzzles further into your touch with a groan. “I’m too old for this.”
Minutes pass as both of you seem to grasp the gravity of what has just happened. Eventually, Logan rises to his feet, disappearing for a brief moment before coming back with a towel to wipe his come off your stomach and chest.
He’s gentle with you, his gaze trained on his task until his eyes flick up to meet yours.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he says, pulling your shorts back up.
“Like what?”
“Like you want to see right through me.” He adjusts your shirt to cover your body again, but the towel remains in his hand, a reminder of the previous events.
I’m not gonna kiss you, but I’ll make you feel good. Just this time, ‘kay? And we don’t talk about it.
You don’t have to talk about it. You definitely don’t.
Two days later, he’s the one who comes looking for you.
You’re nearly asleep when he knocks on your door. “Come in,” you mumble, a bit of drool having dampened your pillow. You dry your mouth with the back of your hand, your back turned to the door.
He steps into your room cautiously, as if navigating a minefield. The mattress dips under his weight. “Were you sleeping?” he asks, caressing your leg over the covers.
You shift onto your back, your body responding before your mind. There’s no blood on his clothes—that makes you feel a bit better, and you shake your head.
“Good.” He looms closer, fumbling with his belt. His thumb applies little pressure to your lower lip, and your mouth parts to let him in, salivating.
This is just like Pavlov’s dog experiment—except that Logan isn’t an experimenter, and you aren’t a dog.
Yet, when he approaches you like this, you can’t help but respond, settling into a routine where you both take take take from each other.
Logan doesn’t fuck you, even when you beg him to. He gets you off with his fingers, his thigh, his mouth—but his cock remains out of the equation.
“Just the tip,” you plead, voice laced with pure need, when he’s got his face nestled between your legs.
As he stops eating you out, his beard shiny with your arousal, he’s still got that angry look on his face. Your cries don’t get to him.
“That lie’s older than me.” He slips his fingers back inside you, aiming to make you drop the subject. “Come on, baby. Gotta get ready for work, but you need to come first.”
Nor does he stay the night after telling you you’re the most gorgeous girl he’s ever seen in his life. Just when you think he’s fallen asleep, his legs intertwined with yours and one of his large hands under your head, you drift off.
By the time morning comes, he’s gone. You just know that when night falls, he’ll be back for more, drawn to you like a moth to a flame.
Despite all that, Logan won’t kiss you. He keeps his promise, and you hate how determined he is.
“Not even once?” you ask him one night while going over the scars on his back. You’re in his bed this time, and he has his nose buried in his pillow, moments away from dozing off.
“No,” he answers, squirming slightly under your touch. “I’m tired. Stop doing that.”
“How did you get this one?” You trace one scar that’s close to his shoulder, resting your chin just inches from it.
He turns his face to see your eyes. “Well, I was doing Pilates, and I—Hey!” He laughs when you pinch the skin near his ribs, tickling him. “I don’t even remember. Must’ve got it a long time ago.”
“Did it hurt?” It’s a dumb question, but he doesn’t mention it.
His index finger grazes your cheek, and he chuckles at the way your eyelids flutter. “In the past, they all did. But not anymore,” he replies, though you wish you could believe him.
You know he’s in pain most days. That when he goes down on you, and he’s on his knees for too long, he has trouble standing up without cursing. That no amount of alcohol, or his healing ability, helps him with it.
You kiss each of his scars before curling against his side, brushing your nose against his. “And now?” Your eyes fall to his lips, silently hoping he’ll say Yes.
Instead, he sighs. “I think we should go to sleep.”
So despite the lack of kisses, the miscommunication, and the fact that he won’t fuck you even though you know—you feel—he wants to, things are good between you.
Charles notices it, openly expressing his recent realization. “He looks happier, doesn’t he?” he asks says after winning two games of chess in a row, startling you.
“Logan, you mean?”
“Yes, my dear.”
You glance down at the board, fidgeting with the pieces. “I guess so.”
“You guess so?” he parrots your previous words, raising an eyebrow in doubt. “Look at me,” he says, and as you do it, he points a shaky finger toward your neck. “I assume mosquitos have taken a liking to you.”
Heat rises to your cheeks, your hand flying up to cover the hickey you had completely forgotten about in the first place. “Charles, I’m—“
“Are you happy?” he interrupts you, and you nod, because you are.
A nagging thought lingers at the back of your mind. You don’t know if you’re asking for too much, but it still feels like something’s missing.
One morning, you accidentally overhear a conversation between them. The door of the tank is ajar, and right before you step inside, you recognize Logan’s voice in the distance.
“Charles, I’m fine, alright? I don’t need your advice.”
There’s a pause before Charles responds. “You know, Logan… this is what life looks like. You should take a moment and feel it. You still have time.”
Logan doesn’t say anything in response to that. And if he does, you don’t stick around long enough find out, because you’re already turning on your heel.
A poet once said: “Blowjobs are fucking amazing.”
Actually, you might be wrong. Those may not have been a poet’s words, but your best friend Keira’s from high school.
You remember the sleepovers at her place—she had a boyfriend at the time, a boy she had met at a party you hadn’t been invited to.
“Welcome to blowjobs 101,” she had declared one night, holding a hairbrush like a microphone. “Don’t worry, sweetie. I’ll tell you everything you need to know when the moment comes.”
Luckily, many years later, that moment arrived.
Just ten minutes ago, you were cooking dinner, sniffling back tears while chopping onions, so lost in thought that you didn’t realize Logan was already home.
He tossed his keys onto the table, hugging you from behind seconds later. You leaned back against his chest, enjoying the scratch of his beard against your sensitive skin, his lips planting soft kisses wherever they could.
“How was work?” you dropped the knife, wiping your tears as you turned to face him, throwing your arms around his neck. Logan pulled you in tighter by the waist, giving your ass a firm squeeze.
“Hell, as usual,” he looked into your eyes, finding them all glossy. “You miss me so much you started crying?”
Of course, you didn’t talk about it—but words aren’t the only ones who can convey meaning.
You’re not sure how, but one thing led to another, and now you’re on your knees, Logan’s cock filling your mouth. Your lips, swollen and red, suck hard at his tip, pulling the foreskin back, and his hips jerk deeper into your throat. “That’s it, fuck. Doin’ so good.”
Your movements are far from graceful. As a matter of fact, it’s all too sloppy and desperate. Saliva drips down your chin, some of it coating his balls, and you fondle them at the same time you bob your head.
Keira’s advice plays on repeat in your mind, and you pull out every trick you know to make Logan roll his eyes.
So far, you think you’re doing pretty great, judging by the way he’s gripping the back of your head.
“H-how is this your first time suckin’ cock?” he slurs, more to himself, his voice strangled as you make eye contact with him. He brushes your hair out of your face, bewitched by the sight of him disappearing into your wet mouth. “God, I fuckin’ love you.”
Taken aback by his sudden confession. you involuntarily gag around him. He pulls you off his cock, not even sparing you a glance, tucking himself back into his briefs. “Wait, Logan—”
“Not now,” he mutters abruptly, withdrawing into his bedroom and shutting the door behind him.
God, I fuckin’ love you.
God, I fuckin’ love you.
God, I fuckin’ love you.
But still, he doesn’t want to talk about it.
How bad is it to tell somebody you love them and then avoid them?
Yeah, it’s absolutely terrible, right? Tell that to the idiot himself—Logan Howlett.
It’s been over a week, and no matter how many times you press him for an explanation, he keeps dodging it.
Things go back to how they were before you two started fooling around, and Charles’ questions don’t take long to come: “I thought you two were getting somewhere.”
“Me too,” you admit, your voice quieter as you try to appear indifferent.
You have no answer for him. Not that you don’t want to discuss your relationship problems—it’s just that you don’t know what went wrong.
When evading you isn’t enough, he works longer hours, which only adds to how little you see him. At least he lets you know if he’s going to be late, sparing you from waiting up.
But apart from that, your interactions have dwindled to nothing, and it’s eating you alive.
You’re madly in love with him. You thought you knew that already, but now that he’s distant, the depth of your feelings has become clearer than ever.
He’s everywhere you go, just not physically—he has conquered your mind.
And it should be funny, loving someone who used to be no more than a myth for you. Though Logan is real—maybe too real for your own good—and he hasn’t been the mutant you once read about for quite some time.
This morning, he’s having breakfast at the table when you walk into the kitchen. You hold your breath as your shoulders brush for a microsecond, his gaze following your steps.
You’re no longer accustomed to sharing the same space with him, so it makes sense that you stay as far away as possible.
After an awkward silence, he stands up and mutters something about checking on Charles and giving him his meds, leaving you alone with your thoughts.
It’s infuriating, how collected he seems. Why isn’t he miserable like you? Doesn’t he miss you? Didn’t you two have something… special?
I’m not gonna kiss you, but I’ll make you feel good. Just this time, ‘kay? And we don’t talk about it.
The shit I’d for you.
God, I fuckin’ love you.
Not now.
The memory of his words lingers, seared into your unconscious, though the sound of his phone jolts you out of your thoughts.
It’s ringing beside the coffee machine, and you try to ignore it, determined to be the bigger person.
But after five minutes of the relentless ringtone echoing in the empty kitchen, you’ve had enough.
Unknown caller—interesting. What could he possibly be hiding?
Charles, you better keep that asshole busy, you think to yourself, swiping right to answer the call.
Before you can say anything, a woman’s voice fills the line.
“James! Thank God. It’s Gillian. You didn’t reply to any of my texts, and I was starting to get worried,” she lets out a giggle, the sound grating against your nerves.
As your grip on the phone tightens, your knuckles start to go white.
“Look, I know you said you weren’t available, but I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since that ride. I didn’t see any ring on your finger, so what do you say, huh? Will you let me take you out?”
Red. You’re seeing red.
“James? Hello? Cat got your tongue?”
At last, you clear your throat. “Hey,” you greet her, pacing around the kitchen. “I’m deeply sorry, but James can’t talk right now.”
“Excuse me?” she snaps, her high-pitched voice echoing through the speakers, and you pull the device away from your ear. “This is James’ number. Who the fuck are you?”
“Oh, I’ll tell you who the fuck I am, you intolerant piece of—”
Before you can finish, the phone is yanked out of your hand, the call hastily ending.
There is no use in playing dumb, not when Logan’s standing right in front of you, observing you like you’re a child who’s made a severe mistake.
His deep, brown eyes pierce your soul, shattering any chance you had of coming up with an excuse.
“What where you doing with my phone?” It’s the first thing he asks you, his voice still steady, the calm before the storm.
Perhaps you’re not as mature as you thought you were—your forehead furrows, unwilling to back down, and you fall silent. He takes a step forward, as if he can’t believe your attitude. “Think I asked you somethin’. Why did you answer?”
“Gillian sounds like a lovely lady. Tell her I said ‘Hi’ the next time you see her,” you croak, attempting to walk past him, but he doesn’t budge, his solid frame blocking your path. You collide with his chest, and it feels like trying to move a brick wall without success.
“We’re talking. You can’t just leave.”
The nerve of this man.
“You can’t be serious,” you retort, staring at him, wishing the emotion in your tone could capture even a fraction of what you’re truly feeling. “Weren’t you the one who walked away first? After telling me you loved me?”
You search for any sign of the man who once held you close, but he feels miles away, hidden under all these layers that smell like cheap whiskey and gasoline. “You didn’t mean it.”
“I did. I meant every word,” he growls, his fists clenching at his sides, and you don’t miss the exhaustion in his eyes, the dark circles that expose the fragile façade of control he’s so desperate to maintain. “Goddamit! You’re doing that thing again!”
“What thing?” you exclaim, your mouth hanging open in frustration. “What the fuck are you talking about? I’m not doing anything.”
“Yes, you are! You’re trying to see through me, like you can read my mind.”
“Well, sorry to disappoint, but I’m not a fucking mutant. I just have eyes, Logan.” You throw your arms up, exasperated. “People actually look at each other when they have a conversation, in case you haven’t noticed.”
“You’re testing my patience,” he mutters, rubbing a hand over his face.
“And you are testing mine.” You rest your back against the table, raising your chin. “So, who is she?”
Logan drops his shoulders, slamming his eyes shut. “I drove her once, last week. It was a long ride and she… wouldn’t stop talking. Didn’t shut up for a single second. She hit on me, but I told her I’m off the market.”
“Why? ‘Cause she talked too much?”
“No. Because I love you,” he says, pure awe transforming his expression, like he doesn’t believe he has said it out loud. “I don’t know when I started feeling like this, or if I’ve always felt it, but—I do. I love you.”
Oh.
You had heard those words slip through his lips before, but now they sound different. It might be that keeping him at arm's length has felt like death by a thousand cuts, or perhaps it’s the realization that this is the first time someone’s declaring their love for you.
Fuck. He loves you. As in, he’s in love with you?
“Then why do you keep running?” You edge closer to him, your eyes trained on his. “I’m done with the chase, Logan. It’s tiring—I am tired. I’ve been sleeping like shit, trying to figure out what—”
His arms surround your body, cutting you off and pulling you close. The hammering of his heart matches yours, and you return the hug, nuzzling your nose against his neck.
You fear that this might be all you’ve ever needed, feeling as if the pieces he took from you in the past are finally falling back into place.
Logan holds you as if in a past life he lost you, but now, he’s decided to never let you go.
This profound sense of completeness, of being where you’re meant to be, makes you realize you’ve found home in the warmth of his embrace.
“I’m sorry. This… this scares me, alright?” he murmurs next to your ear, raking his fingers through your hair. “You make me feel things I didn’t think I could feel anymore. That’s what I’m running from—the part of me I thought was gone. But you… you brought it back.”
You feel a deep urge to curl up and cry, wondering why on earth he would ever think he was unworthy of being cared for. “Logan, I…”
“I sound pathetic, I know. It sounded way better in my head.”
“Don’t you dare say that.” You retreat a bit, looking him in the eye. He stares down at you with a tenderness you’ve never seen before. “It’s not pathetic to voice how you feel. I want to know it all, want to know everything about you.”
“Everything?”
“Yes, everything. But I need you to promise me that you won’t run away anymore. I know it’s difficult, but it’s not fair to any of us.”
His eyes peer directly into yours, and he gives a nod. “I promise to do my best.” He presses your foreheads together, and that’s when his mouth turns into a grin. “You’re not going to say it back?” he teases, gripping your waist. “Come on, I said it first. Twice, for the record.”
Lifting your shoulders in a half-shrug, you find it hard to conceal your smile. “I may need a bit more convincing.”
Kiss me. Kiss me. Kiss me.
Before you know it, his lips are on yours, almost making you lose your balance. You whimper into his mouth, tightening your arms around his neck as his tongue wastes no time in finding yours, stroking it sensually.
The wait had been definitely worth it—you’d do everything all over again if it meant having him kiss you like this at the end of the day.
He tilts your face so that he can deepen the kiss, and a whine gets caught in your throat when his fingers pull gently at the hair at your nape, nibbling at your bottom lip.
“I love you, too. Very much, to be honest,” you blurt out against his mouth, pleased with the way he laughs at your reaction, squeezing your hips. “But I still have some ideas in mind.”
“I’m all ears.”
Here goes nothing. “Fuck me like I’ve been asking you to.” You cup his cheek, guiding his lips into yours one more time. “Please,” you mewl, standing on your tiptoes. “Want you to be my first.”
If it were up to you, you would’ve begged him to take you right there on the kitchen floor. But Logan, ever the gentleman, insists on moving things to his room.
Each of his movements is slow, igniting your skin with a burning heat, leaving his name imprinted where his teeth sink into your soft flesh.
You’re left in nothing but your underwear by the time he murmurs: “Let me take my time with you.” He trails his lips down your chest, your stomach, until he’s planting several kisses along your ankle. “I don’t know how I got so lucky, baby. Look at you.”
Under his gaze, you feel shy, your eyes snapping to the ceiling instead. “Shut up,” you say, tugging at his shirt to undress him, your fingers tracing the lines of his abdomen before you pull him into a bruising kiss, sucking on his tongue.
He strips out of his black slacks and hovers over you, his clothed cock grinding against your throbbing core, eliciting a moan from both of you. “So goddamn beautiful. Can’t believe you’re mine.” His tip grazes your entrance through the fabric, making your toes curl in ectasy. “I’m gonna make you feel good, I swear.”
At first, he’s extremely careful, making sure to stretch you out with his fingers while you stroke him, pumping your fist to match his rhythm. “Keep that up and this’ll be over sooner than expected,” he warns, taking one of your nipples into his mouth.
It doesn’t happen like it does in the books or movies. No foreplay could’ve prepared you for the moment he enters you.
You move clumsily beneath him, your nose bumping into his forehead as he eases the first inch of his length inside.
For a moment, you’re not certain which hurts most: the dull ache in your nose or the way he’s splitting you open.
Logan freezes, his eyes wide in concern. “Shit. I’m sorry, sweetheart. Are you okay?” His hand cradles your face as he props himself up on one forearm, pushing your hair back while you adjust to his size. You laugh despite the sting, and he wipes away your tears with his thumb. “You’re laughin’?”
“I’m just happy,” you manage to get through the lump in your throat, raking your nails down his back, feeling the rough texture of the scars beneath your fingers. “I love you. Since that day at the bar, I—” you pause for a second, gasping at the sudden wave of pleasure when he twitches inside you. “I’ll always l-love you. Forever.”
As you wrap your legs around his waist and tell him you’re ready, something inside him shifts.
He feels like a madman, his eyes fixed on your face the whole time, searching for any hint of discomfort, though he occasionally glances down at the place where your bodies meet and become one, entranced by the sight of you taking him in, slick coating his length.
Your heels dig into his lower back, pulling him back to the present—back to you, with your pretty tits bouncing each time he pistols his hips, the intensity of his thrusts increasing.
“All those times you took care of me, when you—Fuck,” he groans, nipping at your jaw to regain some of his composure, his humid breath dampening your skin. Your scent drives him wild, and he reaches for your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. “You made me feel loved when no one else did. My girl, love you so f-fucking much.”
His pace is nothing more than a voiceless testament to everything he feels but can’t find words to express.
With each minute that passes, your dripping cunt grips him tighter and tighter, his thrusts losing finesse. He needs you to come first—why does he feel like a virgin?
When you tell him you’re close, the world around him turns into a musical. You cling to the sheets, the mattress creaking noisily as he clutches the headboard, determined to find that angle that will push you over the edge.
“That’s it, sing for me,” Logan mutters from above, hypnotized by the crease forming between your brows. “Come on, let go.”
Time seems to slow down as your muscles tense and you clamp around him, your body sagging against him. His name spills from your lips in breathy whimpers, like an endless prayer, and your mouth engulfs his, tongues and teeth clashing in a fevered kiss.
Soon after that, he surrenders to the coiling tension deep within him, pulling out just in time to stroke himself once, twice, before emptying his hot load across your mound.
You gently thumb the head of his cock, coaxing out every last drop of his hot seed. He’s panting as he comes down from his high, his brain foggy and blissfully blank for a while.
Logan loses track of how many times he tells you he loves you—he does it when he pulls you into his chest, when his lips press against your temple, and when you crack that smile, the one that resembles the very purpose of his existence.
“So this is what it feels like.” His voice sounds low like a murmur near your ear, and you stir, half-asleep.
“Hmm?”
“Nothing, baby. Just thinkin’ aloud.”
You don’t have to talk about it, at least not now. Deep down, he knows that whatever thoughts run through his mind will somehow find their way into yours.
This is what life looks like. You should take a moment and feel it. You still have time.
And God, is he feeling it.
dividers by: @cafekitsune thank you!!! :)
#logan howlett#wolverine#wolverine x reader#logan howlett x you#logan howlett x reader#wolverine x you#deadpool and wolverine#logan howlett fic#logan howlett fanfiction#logan x reader#logan howlett smut#james logan howlett#james howlett#logan howlett xmen#logan howlett x fem!reader#wolverine smut#the wolverine#wolverine x men#wolverine fic#wolverine fanfiction#logan wolverine#x men wolverine#smut#fanfiction#fluff#angst#old man logan#fic: never is a promise#x men movies#logan james howlett
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Juno (Hotch x Fem!Reader) -- one shot
Hello again! This goes from zero to 100 in two seconds flat don't @ me!! Sabrina's new album came out and reawakened something in me (everyone say thank you Sabrina) (also this is not beta'd I wrote this in a short n' sweet haze)
Summary: Aaron is working from home but what paperwork he needs to do is the absolute last thing on your mind.
Warnings: smut! 18+ only! this is so filthy! in no particular order: multiple orgasms, cockwarming, choking, brat tendencies, stoplight system, unprotected sex, breeding kink (briefly), face fucking, overstimulation
WC: like 3,400 I lost my damn mind clearly
You’re not sure what’s gotten into you. Blame it on period hormones (probably) or the fact that Aaron looks absolutely delicious right now in his tight black t-shirt (most likely), but you’re going to go insane if either of you have clothes on for another five minutes.
The problem is, Aaron is trying to focus. It’s one of his days where he works from home, an idea you gave him when you realized how easy it would be for him to do the same paperwork just from the comfort of your living room. It was a brilliant idea at first. You got to see him more, and were able to do your own thing around the house while he did his work. You got to have lunch together, and offer a genuine mental break in between his mountain of paperwork.
Now, though, you can’t find it in you to give a single fuck about whatever needs to be signed, who needs to clear what, and what phone calls he still needs to make.
“Honey,” you call sweetly from the kitchen. You watch him from over the island, your thoughts going all sorts of ways -- namely, deep into the gutter. “Want to break for lunch?”
You see Aaron shake his head, still typing furiously on his laptop. “It’s not even noon yet.”
“Brunch?” you try again, walking out of the kitchen. You lean against the doorframe, crossing your arms over your chest in the way you know he loves because of the view it gives him of your cleavage. And you’re wearing a v-neck shirt today for that exact reason, too.
Aaron still doesn’t look up. “I’m sorry honey, maybe in an hour?”
You let out a huff that you know he hears because he finally looks up, eyebrows raised just so. It’s a look that you love. Curious, veering toward that playful annoyance that you can’t seem to go a few hours without his undivided attention.
Which, you can, by the way. You’re more than capable. It’s just that right now, it’s a crime that his eyes have been looking at paperwork when they should be looking at you.
“Are you okay?” he asks, and there’s some hesitation in his voice. You know he’s assuming the worst. That you’re not okay mentally, and that’s why you need him to take his lunch break now or maybe for the rest of the day. He’s done it before on your darker days.
But you’re okay. You’re perfectly fine. You’d just be even better if he put the damn laptop away and put his fingers to use somewhere else.
Which is exactly why you come to a stop in front of him and reach forward, tilting his screen down and down until it closes. He lets you.
He lets you take his laptop and put it on the table beside the couch. He watches you, his fiery brown eyes taking in every second. He lets you straddle his hips, your arms circling his neck.
“I see now,” he smirks, his hands finding their rightful place on your waist and squeezing lovingly. “By ‘lunch break’ you mean…”
“Put a baby in me,” you blurt, rocking your hips against his.
He stills, his hands making you stop your movements, too. His eyes are darker now in a way you haven’t seen in a while. “What?”
“Please,” you say, leaning your forehead down onto his, trying to move your hips again. “Need you.”
“Honey, we can’t have--”
“Yes I know the semantics, Aaron,” you mutter, now annoyed and lifting your head to glare at him. He has a vasectomy, you get that. “I mean fuck me like you’re putting a baby in me.”
His hands squeeze again. “I see.”
You frown. “Don’t tease me.”
“I’m not,” he smirks, one hand leaving your waist to stroke your cheek. “You’re adorable when you’re horny.”
You roll your eyes, peeling yourself off his lap. He lets you go, albeit with a curious look. You turn and head for the bedroom.
“Where are you going?” he calls out after you, still with that damn smirk lacing his words.
“To get myself off,” you reply in a deadpan. “Since someone--”
You don’t have a chance to finish your sentence before Aaron is right behind you, hands on your hips, spinning you around to face him. That look full of fire is back again, stern this time.
“Did I say you could do that?” he says in a low tone.
“Did I ask?” you retort, backing out of his grasp and darting into the bedroom.
Now there’s a smirk on your lips. It’s quickly approaching shit-eating grin territory, which you know will only egg Aaron on further. This little game of cat and mouse happens to be your favorite, and he knows it.
You’re barely two steps into the bedroom when Aaron is attached to your back yet again, this time wrapping his arms around your waist, locking you in.
“Color?” he whispers, his lips right at your ear, sending shivers straight down your spine.
You groan. “Green. Neon green. So green, I need you to--”
He spins you again, this time backing you into the wall and attacking your lips. Finally, you think, though you know you’re in for it now. The thought has a grin crawling up your lips, and you’re unable to stop it.
“What’s so funny, hm?” he scolds, moving his lips to your neck instead, to the exact spot he knows makes you weak in the knees. Like clockwork, he has to wrap an arm around your waist to keep you upright, your knees buckling when he bites down just so.
“Nothing,” you manage through a moan, tipping your head back onto the wall. “Shit.”
“You’re ridiculous sometimes, you know,” he says, but he’s smiling against your skin. “Can’t let me focus on work because you need me to fuck you.”
“In my defense,” you try, your hands scrambling for his shoulders, for something to ground you. “You didn’t fuck me this morning.”
“I fucked you last night,” he reminds you, as if you needed the reminder. It’s the reason you slept so soundly. “Was that not enough?”
You can’t help it; you laugh.
He lifts his head, raising an eyebrow at you. The same question as before on his lips.
“Sorry, I thought you were joking,” you say.
“You’re insatiable.”
“Guilty,” you grin, grabbing his face and pulling him back in for another kiss.
You make out against the wall for too long like two teenagers behind the bleachers at school. You hook one leg around his hips, pulling him in and grinding against his obvious erection. It’s enough to have him groaning into your mouth, pressing you against the wall with renowned vigor.
You can feel how wet you’re becoming and fuck, neither of you have even taken a single article of clothing off yet.
Aaron notices, one hand traveling south without you paying attention, too busy relishing the way he licks into your mouth, stealing your every breath. The kissing becomes increasingly sloppy when he works his hand into your leggings, under the waistband of your underwear, and into you.
“Oh my god,” your back arches against the wall, pushing his fingers deeper. He doesn’t bother with one, starting right away with two, curling them when you grind harder.
“You’re soaking my hand,” he practically growls into the next kiss, adding a third finger after only a few thrusts. Your body accepts it willingly, always ready for him. “Jesus.”
“More,” you gasp, pushing him deeper. “Aaron, more, I’m serious--” Your words break off as he scissors his fingers, making your eyes roll back instantly.
“I can feel you already,” he smirks against your cheek, pressing a kiss there, an action so sweet and gentle compared to what the rest of him is doing. “Come on, honey. You’re cumming as many times as you want.”
That makes you inch closer to the edge at a frightening speed. He says you can cum as many times as you want, but what he means is he’s going to force as many orgasms out of you as he can. Until you tell him to stop or he decides you need a break.
The thought of being an overstimulated mess in his embrace later has you climaxing against his fingers, your head falling onto his shoulder as his movements never cease, milking every last wave out of you.
You lift your head in search of his lips again, which he willingly gives to you, his fingers slowing to soothing strokes as you whimper into his mouth. You’ve only had one orgasm and you already feel ruined. He can tell the way you tremble against him, so he checks in once more.
“Green?” he whispers, kissing your forehead.
You nod. “Green. You?”
He smirks. “Absolutely.”
He picks you up into his arms, inelegantly tossing you onto the bed behind you. You giggle as you bounce on the mattress, tugging your shirt over your head as he does the same to his. His hands move for his belt and you practically jump to the end of the bed, swatting his hands away.
“Since when is that your job?” you frown up at him, unbuckling his belt without looking.
He laughs, petting your head gently. “So sorry, you’re right.”
“What was that?” you tease. “I don’t think I heard you.”
“Don’t push it.”
“I have no idea what you mean,” you smirk, pulling his belt out of the loops and tossing it somewhere. You don’t wait for him to reply before you unbutton his jeans, yanking them down with his boxers.
There’s just something about his dick. You hate that you love it, or maybe you don’t hate it at all. All you know is you need it in your mouth right now.
So, you do that, without any warning. Aaron thrusts forward into your mouth on pure instinct, not expecting you to wrap your lips around him so soon. You slide down the edge of the bed onto your knees, pulling him back to you by his thighs.
You take your time, pushing his jeans and boxers down further. When you pull back for air, he steps out of them and kicks them elsewhere, returning to you quickly, knowing better than to keep you waiting.
You swallow him down again, moaning around him in the way you know he loves. It takes all of two seconds before he gently holds the back of your head, asking silently for permission that you were already about to grant. You look up at him, batting your eyelashes as you squeeze his thigh twice. Go ahead.
The thing about Aaron fucking your face is that it took a while for him to do it as hard as you really wanted. He’s always so gentle, a quality that drew you to him initially. You love how gentle he can be. But you love it equally as much when he is rougher with you.
Like now, when he has you pinned against the bed, one hand on the back of your head as he fucks into your throat. It’s blissful, quite frankly, the way he feels, and you thank the universe every time for your lack of a gag reflex.
He holds you there with a deep groan, and you feel him twitch in your throat once before he pulls you off entirely. You frown up at him, once again not getting what you wanted, but he doesn’t have any time for that.
He picks you up by your armpits, hauling you back onto the bed. Your leggings and underwear are gone in a single second, along with your bra. He’s crawling up your body and crowding your space before you have a second to protest that he wasn’t down your throat for near as long as you wanted him to be.
All frustrations leave your mind the second he pushes inside of you, immediately sliding home, his hips flush against yours.
It’s a feeling you’ve grown to love, the way he hits you so deep. Another thing it took him a while to be comfortable doing.
He’s not average sized by any means, and you’re the first to admit it made you salivate the first time you saw. The first time he fed himself into you and worried that he was hurting you, meanwhile you were clawing his back because you wanted more. It hurt for a moment, only an uncomfortable pressure because he was bigger than your vibrator, but as soon as you were used to the size of him, you wanted all of him.
He stays there, deep in you without moving for a moment, grinding against you. His lips attack yours again before he pauses to lean his forehead on yours, trying to catch his breath.
“You drive me crazy,” he says on a shaky exhale.
You wrap your legs around him, thrusting your hips up to take him a little more. His hips stutter, pushing in the way you wanted him to, the way you know you can make him do involuntarily.
“Fuck,” he bites out, turning his attention to your neck again.
You thread your fingers through his hair, tugging. “Exactly. So why aren’t you moving?”
He nips at your neck. “Because if I move, I will cum right away.”
“Who said I only want you to cum inside me once?”
He groans again, fingers digging into your hips as you circle them, though he doesn’t try to stop you. “Greedy” is all he says, but he finally moves.
The thrusts are slow at first, Aaron clearly trying to pace himself. You can’t say you’re doing the same, already chasing your second high as he slams his hips into yours. Your hand reaches down to rub your clit, but is promptly smacked away by Aaron’s hand as he glares at you.
“Since when is that your job?” he echoes you from earlier, only this time, there’s more heat to it. He grabs both of your wrists, pinning them above your head to stop any other temptation. “Not this time.”
His thrusts pick up speed and depth, his body moving against yours in the exact way that makes you fall apart. It’s not often that he doesn’t let you cum from added clit stimulation -- not that you can’t without it; it just makes the high feel that much better -- but sometimes he does. It’s an ego trip for him as much as it is for you.
It also adds an unpredictable nature to it, which is why your second orgasm takes you by such surprise. You seize against him, your hands doing all sorts of squirming to try to break free of his grasp, but he doesn’t let you, and he doesn’t let up. You don’t realize why until you feel the warmth spreading into you as he reaches his own peak.
You’ve clearly worked him up as much as you worked yourself up because his thrusts barely slow down, and he doesn’t soften inside of you.
Instead, he pulls out only to flip you on your side, sliding in behind you and pulling your leg up and back over his hips. The action causes some of his cum to spill out of you, but you don’t have any time to focus on that before he fucks back into you.
You’ve ceased to have any coherent thoughts as Aaron whispers dirty nothings into your ear, one arm wrapped around your body to keep you pinned against him. The pleasure doesn’t stop and at one point, you question if your second orgasm stopped at all or if it has continued this entire time.
Aaron reaches underneath the pillow where he knows he’ll find one of your vibrators because he heard you using it this morning. No, he didn’t fuck you this morning, but you fucked yourself, and truly, at 8am, he should’ve known you’d end up like this by eleven.
Your mind doesn’t register what the sound means until the vibrator is pressed against your clit. Your body jerks, scrambling for some grounding, your hands finding it in wrapping them around his arm.
He switches hands on the vibrator, so one hand is free to wrap around your throat. Your eyes roll back as soon as you feel the gentle pressure, your body practically going limp against him.
“Come on, sweetheart,” he murmurs directly into your ear, his thrusts slowing to deep strokes. “You’ve got a couple more in you.”
“A couple?” is all you manage to say, your hand squeezing his wrist so he knows to squeeze your throat a little more.
“Mhm,” his voice rumbles in your ear, sending goosebumps all over your body. “Is it too much?” His question is laced with just the right amount of pity that makes you shake your head against him. “I thought so,” he replies, switching the vibrator to a higher setting.
It sends you into your third orgasm instantly, squirming violently against him as he pushes into you deeper. He knows how much you love that, and loves how much you squeeze around him as he slides inside, fighting against your muscles that threaten to force him out. You’ve done it before, a mesmerized look on his face and yours when you both realized what happened. Since then, you told him you liked it more when he fought to stay inside.
He takes the vibrator away as you calm down, his hips also pausing, keeping himself deep inside you. The pressure is soothing, and you take a moment to take a deep breath. His palm falls away from your throat, instead propping underneath your cheek.
It takes a few seconds before you feel yourself spasming around him. He chuckles against your back, pressing a kiss to your neck. “Still?”
You nod dumbly, rocking your hips again. “Yeah. I don’t know, I just-- Need more.”
“I’ve got you,” he soothes, pulling out again to roll you onto your stomach instead, one of your favorite positions.
You’re floating as you settle into the pillows, letting Aaron manhandle you wherever you need to be. You groan in your happy, blissed out state as he slides home again, draping himself over your back.
He is gentler now, knowing that’s exactly what you need at this point. The last orgasm he pulls from you is just as gentle, and he pushes deeper into you, letting you ride it out.
He pulls your hips up and thrusts once, twice before he’s spilling into you. You didn’t realize he was that close again. The warmth is soothing this time as it spreads through you.
Aaron leaves you only to settle behind you, spooning you once again. Your hand reaches behind you to find him, and he catches your wrist.
“You need to rest,” he chides softly.
“I know,” you whimper. “Need you inside me.”
“Okay, okay,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your neck as he slides in again, still half-hard, but it’s enough. You settle down as soon as the weight of him is tucked inside you again. “Better?”
“Mhm,” you sleepily nod, pushing back into him so he holds you tighter. “Do you have to go back to work?”
He chuckles against you, sighing. “No, I’m done for the day, I think,” he says. “I’ll tell them you weren’t feeling well.”
That makes you laugh. “We need a better excuse.”
“Or I need to go back to working in the office.”
You roll your eyes. “Like that’ll make a difference.”
He shakes his head, his mind remembering the same memories that you are. The many lunch hours when you went to eat with him, and ended up with your back pressed into the couch, his tie stuffed in your mouth to keep you quiet.
“Go to sleep,” he says, pulling you impossibly closer. “I’ll make us lunch when we wake up.”
“Perfect,” you smile, nuzzling into him. “Love you.”
“Love you too, honey,” he says, pressing little kisses to your neck and cheeks, wherever he can reach. “Now sleep.”
You’re already halfway there. The combination of him nestled inside of you and the post-orgasm exhaustion is enough to lull you into a restful sleep.
#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner x fem!reader#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner x you#aaron hotchner smut#aaron hotchner fanfiction#hotch x fem!reader#hotch x reader#hotch x you#hotch x fem!reader smut#aaron hotchner x fem!reader smut#criminal minds smut#aaron hotchner one shot#criminal minds#aaron hotchner songfic#my usual
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As long as you have me
summary: sesh with Sevika while she turns you out
cw: marijuana (whats new here), slight intox kink from Sevika, cunnilingus (r!receiving), Sevika is kinda rough, facesitting (r), tribbing, slight proofread, SEVIKA HAS BOTH ARMS!
The dizziness hits hard.
Sevika’s been letting you take hit after hit, teasing you about how easily you get high. By the time you’re a single drag in, you’re already teetering on the edge. Determined to prove her wrong, you pushed yourself past your usual two weak pulls of the jay she rolled. Now? You’ve nearly smoked the whole thing, and regret is setting in.
“All right, I can’t,” you mumble, unsure whether to laugh or cry because you’ve never been this high in your life.
“Yeah, I don’t think you can either,” Sevika snorts, plucking the joint from your fingers with a smirk. She takes one long, practiced drag, as calm as ever, before ashing the roach and setting it aside. Reaching for her glass of water, she takes a sip, then presses the rim to your lips. The lukewarm liquid feels like a lifeline, quenching the desert your mouth’s become.
The room swirls around you, even though the two of you haven’t moved from her bed in over an hour. Sevika lounges beside you, one hand buried in her hoodie, while you’re a twitchy, overthinking mess, trying not to forget how to breathe. Her free hand glides over your thigh in lazy, soothing circles, her touch grounding you even as the high drags you somewhere else entirely.
“Holy shit, your eyes, babe,” she gasps, her voice overly dramatic as she leans in close, cupping your face. Her thumb brushes your cheek as her sharp eyes scan your expression. “You good?” she murmurs, her breath warm against your skin.
You wrinkle your nose like you’ve smelled something awful and pull back, your face hot. “Stop. You always say that and then I get paranoid,” you whine, sinking back into the pillows.
Sevika doesn’t move, just stares at you with that crooked grin that always makes your chest flutter. You glance at her, and it’s hopeless—you’re smiling too, unable to ignore the butterflies crashing around inside you.
“What?” you mutter, voice low, but the question hangs in the space between you two.
“Nothing, just trying not to say something that’ll make you paranoid,” Sevika says, voice low as she shrugs off her hoodie. She knows exactly what she’s doing—underneath, it’s just that armhole tank that clings to her in all the right places, showing off her dark, delicious arms and just enough side boob to make your thoughts spiral. You can’t resist; your finger pokes at the exposed skin, playful and far too curious.
She smirks but doesn’t comment, shifting to get comfortable again, one hand rubbing her stomach lazily. Then, without warning, her hand slides between your legs, slipping past the hem of your t-shirt. Her fingers cup you over your panties, casual as anything, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
Your breath catches. Sevika stays completely still, her face calm, her body relaxed, but there’s no denying the heat that blooms between you. You’re soaked, embarrassingly so, and her fingers twitch like they’re itching to press harder, to push right where you need her most.
She doesn’t move, just watches you through heavy-lidded, red-rimmed eyes. Her gaze makes you feel dizzy all over again, like you’re floating somewhere just out of reach. You’re here, but at the same time, not really.
The corners of your mouth lift into a grin without you realizing it, and Sevika’s sharp eyes catch the change. She exhales, her heart racing faster with every second that passes. You can tell she’s already plotting how to pull that smug, dreamy expression right off your face.
“Mm... what?” you mumble again, your voice soft and slurred as your heavy-lidded eyes flutter open and closed. The THC hums through your veins, settling you into a weightless, floaty state that leaves your body melting into the bed. The sensation pools low in your stomach, and you can feel just how soaked you are as Sevika’s hand teases you.
She doesn’t say a word, just watches you with that look—the one that makes your pulse race and your breath hitch, like she’s planning to devour you whole. Her sharp gaze alone has your skin buzzing, but it’s the contrast that undoes you, the cool blankets brushing against your heated body, her large hand cupping your mound with such maddening gentleness.
Every nerve in you screams to stay calm, to hold yourself together, but it’s no use. Between the haze in your mind and the weight of her touch, you’re barely keeping it together. You’re fighting demons, and Sevika knows it.
“I’m gonna fuck you, okay?” Sevika asks, her voice low and casual, and you can’t help but giggle. You knew exactly what she was planning the second she pulled out her rolling papers, but hearing her say it like that sends you into a fit of laughter.
“Why’d you announce it like that?” you laugh, rolling over, making her hand slip out between your legs. Sevika grabs you before you can escape too far, pulling you back into her.
Your laughter spills out uncontrollably, and she starts laughing too. It’s that kind of laugh, the ridiculous, stoned-out-of-your-mind kind where every little thing feels like the funniest thing in the world. You wiggle on top of her, squirming as you mistake her attempts to steady you for tickling, which only makes it worse.
“C’mere,” she rasps in your ear, her voice like gravel, stopping you dead in your tracks. The sound shoots through your core, and before you realize what you’re doing, you’re straddling her midsection.
Her relaxed state is almost too cute. She’s not as far gone as you—her eyes don’t get as low and hazy—but you can tell the high is hitting her, too. She keeps licking her lips and swallowing, clearly battling cottonmouth. You get it, cottonmouth’s a bitch. Still, something about her slightly disheveled, unbothered demeanor makes your chest flutter.
“Who knew how fucking dumb you get when you smoke, hmm?” Sevika’s warm, rough hands snake up your thighs, squeezing the soft flesh of your hips. You groan in response, too floaty and noodle-like to argue. She’s right, and you both know it. Sevika had already prepped the room before you arrived, knowing you would ask for something every five minutes.
“You like it when you’re like this? Can’t even think, just focused on how I’m about to fuck the shit outta you,” she mutters, her voice low and teasing as she yanks you down into a kiss. It’s sickly sweet, almost painful, her teeth grazing your lip before biting down hard enough to make you whimper. Sevika gets rough and filthy when she’s drunk or high, all blunt force and no filter. Her favorite thing? Showing off just how built she is. Carrying you, dragging you, manhandling you however she pleases.
And her mouth? That’s a whole other person. She’ll say whatever crosses her mind, like now.
“C’mere. Get that ass on my face,” she growls, breaking the kiss. Her voice drops ten octaves and rasp, making your stomach flip. You cling to every word, breathless, barely able to think as she pushes you higher up her body.
“Wait—Sev, my panties,” you stammer, scrambling to slip them off. She bats your hands away with a huff, nuzzling between your thighs like she doesn’t have the patience for your shit. Then, before you can protest further, she presses her warm mouth against the damp fabric, tongue soaking through to taste your heady slick.
Fucking hell.
Your heartbeat pounds in your chest, the high amplifying everything. The heat of her mouth, the wet slide of her tongue, the glint in her eye as she devours you like a woman starved.
“Wait, wait, can you breathe?” you gasp, stalling as your fingers card through her hair. You gently tug, trying to pull her away just enough to see her face. Sevika tilts her head up, licking her lips with her eyes half-lidded in bliss.
“Mhm. Now stop,” she mumbles, pouting as she pushes your hand aside to focus. And focused she is. Her lips wrap around your swollen clit, pulling soft whimpers from your throat as her tongue strokes you through the fabric.
You lift your shirt over your chest, exposing your tits. not just to watch her work but for her to see you too. The sight of your tits alone makes her groan against you, the vibration adding to overwhelming sensation.
If Sevika’s roommates walked in right now, they’d think they’d stepped into a porno. You’re practically sitting on her face, your high leaving you too sensitive, too reactive. You try to hold back, but fuck, the way her tongue lays flat for you to grind against, it’s overwhelming. She lets you use her, groaning because she loves every second of it.
One bad thing about when you’re high was that if you were to have sex, you came too quick and were far too sensitive than usual.
The final buck of your hip as you spilled in your underwear, soaking it as Sevika mouthed at it. Eyes rolled back to your skull, you find the dark tufts of Sevikas hair as you ground yourself. she flicks her tongue a bit as a way to soothe you, but it does the opposite, causing you to jerk away from her.
“Ah—no more,” you murmur, lying horizontal on her chest, your legs numb and trembling. But Sevika’s hands are already at your hips, sliding your ruined panties off with a smirk that promises round two.
You roll over, watching her gulp the rest of her water before she climbs back into bed. She yanks the blanket off you (of course she does) and starts peeling off her own underwear.
Her smile grows, her hair messy and damp, half-up, half-down strands sticking to her skin. She doesn’t say anything as she adjusts you, moving your body to her liking until her cunt presses against yours. The slick heat of her clit catches on your folds, and you both whimper in unison.
“Holy fu—fuck, you’re so wet. You like this shit, don’t you?” Sevika groans against your lips, her voice low and rough, but her movements give her away. She’s trembling, losing herself in the mess of you, her swollen clit grinding against yours like she can’t help herself. It’s frantic uncoordinated, but it doesn’t matter. All you can focus on is the heat, the overwhelming feeling of her taking exactly what she needs.
You can’t even answer, just nodding dumbly as she kisses you again, her tongue sweeping into your mouth. The taste of her, weed and desperation, making you dizzy. Her hips stutter, and you moan against her lips, feeling yourself come down all over again.
“Sev—ah, slow down. I’m gonna come again,” you whimper, your fingers digging into her hip to try and steady her. But she’s too far gone, her pace frantic, her breath hot against your neck.
“It’s okay, fuck—just let me,” she gasps, her voice breaking as she buries her face in your shoulder. She sounds wrecked, her control slipping completely. Her arms tighten around you, her hands gripping your body like you’re the only thing holding her together.
Your orgasm hits hard and fast, ripping through you as you cry out her name. The sound is all it takes to send her over the edge. She chokes out a groan, her body shuddering against yours as she comes—sticky skin, hearts pounding, breaths tangling in the heavy air.
For a while, it’s quiet. The only sounds are your breathing and the faint rustle of sheets as you try to remember how to move. Sevika’s face is still tucked against your neck, her lips brushing against your skin as she exhales.
“You know you’re, like… really nasty,” you whisper, your voice breathless but teasing. A lazy smile tugs at your lips as you glance down at her.
She groans, lifting her head just enough to glare at you, though the flush on her cheeks gives her away. “We’re never smoking together again,” she mutters, but her lips twitch like she’s trying not to laugh.
“Sure,” you tease, too blissed out to care. You don’t even try to push her away when she shifts on top of you, her arms still holding you close. “As long as you get to have your way with me, I’m fine,” you murmur, your voice softer now as you brush your lips against hers. You can feel her smile before she kisses you again, this time slower, sweeter.
“Fuck, you’re mine,” she whispers against your lips, her voice low and possessive, sending a shiver down your spine.
“I hope so,” you reply, and it comes out like a promise.
a/n: can you tell i love writing about Sev? currently going through my drafts and revising them and so far this was fun to edit the most lol
#sevika smut#arcane sevika#sevika x reader#sevika x reader smut#arcane x reader#arcane x reader smut#orion's writing
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𝓻𝓪𝓯𝓮𝔂𝓼𝓬𝓾𝓻𝓽𝓪𝓲𝓷𝓫𝓪𝓷𝓰𝓼
𝙽𝚊𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚢 𝙻𝚒𝚜𝚝 | 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐦𝐚𝐬 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐬
𝔻𝕒𝕪 𝕋𝕙𝕣𝕖𝕖: 𝕌𝕟𝕨𝕚𝕟𝕕
𝙳𝙸𝙻𝙵!𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝙲𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚐𝚎!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛
warnings: age gap, swearing, older!rafe, drinking, reader is a senior in college, choking, unprotected p in v, kissing, handjob, cum play, spit kink, bathtub sex, changing positions, soft!rafe
📖 based on an ask from @starkeysprincess : ooo ok ok for kinkmas what about college!reader who babysits single dilf!rafe’s kids & she’s stressed cause of finals coming up (totally not self indulgent hehe) and he helps her destress 🩷
Masterlist
Reader’s POV:
You sit cross-legged on Rafe’s plush leather couch: textbooks, sticky notes, pens, and crumpled flashcards littered on the marble coffee table. You blink fast, widening your eyes the next moment, trying to stay awake and on task, willing your eyes to stay open.
Your eyes flicker to the baby monitor, watching Mr. Cameron’s daughter, Winnie, fast asleep. The camera pans over to the next bed, Rory doing the same. Throwing your head back, you breathe deeply, soaking in that little win. At least I have the kids under control.
The week before winter break was always brutal, but this semester felt next to impossible between tests and papers. Five finals in three days…
You tear your planner out of your backpack, jotting down a new study schedule, feeling the pen tremble in your hand—watching the ink scribble and stray from the regular pattern.
I haven’t slept well in days… My stomach has been in knots, my muscles aching, and my head pounding. This week can’t end soon enough.
Shit. Your phone glows with a new notification, but the time catches your eye. Midnight… I still have a couple of hours left, at least. You pull your laptop, open the essay that you have been working on, and check the page count. “Fifteen pages… Twenty-page minimum… What the hell,” you whisper, pinching the bridge of your nose in frustration.
A lump forms in the back of your throat. You swallow hard, refusing to let the tears burning in your eyes spill over. It’s just school. It’s only school… Don’t break down. Not here… Not in his house.
The front door clicks open, jarring you from your thoughts. Your body freezes, fingers quickly lifting to your waterline to clear any tears that dare break. Rafe Cameron… Kook King and Kildare royalty. The man who somehow manages to be intimidating, yet incredibly charming. He’s devastatingly handsome… Fuck, he’s so hot.
Your pulse quickens as you hear his designer loafers shuffle down the hall, echoing through the foyer. Mr. Cameron darkens the doorway a moment later, loosening his tie with one hand and checking his phone with the other.
His toffee-colored hair is tousled— not as sleek as when he left. His large biceps are hugged with a crisp white button-down shirt; suit pants snug enough to show you just how fit he is. “Y/n,” he greets you warmly, lighting up at the sight of you. “How were they?”
"They were great," you manage to say, voice wavering slightly with nerves. “Uhh-Umm… They fell asleep right on time. Rory’s jammies are on backward. He said, ‘The buttons push on his tummy.’ I tried, I swear,” you laugh lightly.
“I know you did,” he smiles as he nods and scratches his five o’clock shadow. His gaze lingers a little longer than usual. “What about you? Are you okay? You look…" he pauses, choosing his words carefully, “… a little stressed. I hope you don’t take that the wrong way. You look beautiful, just stressed.”
Your cheeks warm up at his compliment and his attention; Rafe’s focus never falters. Yours does as your heart flips, your gaze taking refuge in the mess before you to ease the tension, embarrassment quickly filling its place. “Just finals,” you say with a weak laugh. “Five exams in three days. I still have to drive back to campus. I need a shower… And, I have to study… a lot, a lot.”
Rafe’s eyebrows pinch together—his muscular arms cross over his strong chest, the man leaning casually into the doorframe. “You goin’ all the way back to campus?”
You bite your lip and nod. “Yeah, I’ll be alright… I babysit for the Thorntons on a date night and always drive back super late…”
He shrugs his shoulders, looking back at you. "You don't have to," he responds. "Drive back, that is. You can stay here if you’d like if you’re more of a morning person. You can stay in one of the guest bedrooms, watch TV, study, and shower. Or, you can just sleep… Fuck, you look like you’ve been workin’ way, way too hard.”
Your lashes flutter at his offer. Stay the night? Here? You replay to his sweet words again. This place was luxurious… Rivaling any resort on Figure Eight—but this was Rafe Cameron’s house.
“I don’t want to impose,” you babble, catching him waiting for your answer.
”You wouldn’t be,” he tilts his head slightly as a smile plays on his pretty lips. “Seriously, I insist.”
Your shoulders unwind, the stress you were feeling lifting slightly just knowing that you could spend that extra time studying instead of driving; you could spend the night in a cozy bed instead of your cramped apartment. "I really appreciate it, Mr. Cameron,” you breathe.
“Please… Call me Rafe,” he encourages as he rolls up his shirt sleeves, heading toward the sink. ”Go on,” he drawls. “S’gettin’ late. There are two rooms at the end of the hall. You can pick whichever one you’d like.”
You gather your things and head upstairs, your heart still racing. Reaching the end of the hall, you look both ways; each room equally stunning. You glance back at the first option, catching a glimpse of a large bathtub in the mirror.
Shutting the door, you discard your belongings on the bed and quickly undress. You stroll over to the tub, running a bath, adding a heavy spoon of lavender-scented bath salts. As soon as it hits the water, the smell swirls with the steam, wafting around you. You sink into the bubbles, letting out a sigh of pure bliss.
Your body relaxes for the first time in days, melting into the tub.
KNOCK. KNOCK.
”Y/n?” Rafe calls for you from behind the door, his voice husky and deep. “Do you need anything to eat? I should have asked earlier. I apologize.”
Your heart pounds in your chest just knowing he’s outside the door. “I’m fine. Thank you,” you respond sweetly, tucking your lip between your teeth, a part of you wishing you would have said ‘yes’ so he would’ve come back.
”A drink?” He asks. “Wine?”
Your cheeks burn from your giddy smile at the offer. “Wine sounds great. Thank you.”
A few minutes later, there’s another knock. Rafe cracks open the door, his large hand wrapped around the glass, setting it gently on the marble counter, his handsome face still hidden behind the door.
“You can come in,” you call. The door moves fast, then slow, creaking open. Rafe steps inside with a bottle of red wine in hand. Maybe he was hoping for this all along? Perhaps he was just going to set it down on the nightstand?
Rafe walks over, his steps smooth and deliberate, resting the glass in your hand. You lift it to your lips, smiling before sipping, relishing the taste for a moment before letting out a dreamy ‘thank you.’
“You work too hard,” he says softly as he walks away, leaning back into the counter. He looks back at you; genuine concern painted all over his face as well as a glow of admiration.
Your lips draw to the side, nodding in reply, but your mind is clouded with Rafe’s praise so that you can think of a reply.
“Feels good?” He asks, and you nod, your wide, doll-like eyes drawn to the devastatingly handsome man. “You like that?” He asks as he steps closer, gesturing to the bath.
“Yeah,” you smile as you look up at him.
“You can stay over anytime you’d like, sweetheart.”
“Thank you,” you whisper as you tilt toward him. “I’d like that.”
Rafe leans down, lowering himself eye-level with you, his beautiful blue eyes dancing at the waterline, your gorgeous breasts half-hidden under the suds. “You should take more breaks, princess. “It’d be good for you-” Acting before your mind, you grab his shirt and tie, tugging him closer, his lips finding yours for a deep kiss. Your heart races as he deepens the exchange, pulling you closer, causing the water to slosh out of the tub onto his white shirt.
You gasp in surprise, looking down at his muscular body, the white linen clinging to his skin. You race for his buttons; and Rafe for his tie between messy kisses and panting breaths. Your eyes widen as he takes off more and more clothes, tossing them messily to the floor; the air charged between the two of you sparks flying when your lips meet again.
”This okay, princess?” He pants hungrily between kisses.
“Yeah,” you mumble, sucking on his tongue before swirling yours.
“What do you need from me, baby? Tell me what you need.”
“You… Just you, Rafe,” you whimper, feeling as he smiles against your lips. Your fingers stroke the underside of his thick cock, making him moan into his mouth; his breaths choppy as you wrap your fingers around him, rubbing with the cadence of your kiss. Your fingertips ghost over his swollen tip, making him seethe through his teeth before biting your lip.
“M’gonna make you feel good, sweetheart. Yeah? I’m gonna help you relax. But you need to tell me what you want from me” he groans as your other hand cups his balls, rolling slowly.
His abs muscles flex as you toy with his cock, the older man bucking into your hand as he bites his lip. Your eyes widen at the sight of him—finding yourself at a complete loss for words seeing him like this.
Rafe’s fingers tighten on the tub's edge, knuckles turning white. The blood in his cock starts to pump harder as he moves closer and closer to his climax.
The blues of his eyes start to fall, lids growing heavy as his breathing grows deeper. “Let me see your face, pretty,” Rafe pants, cupping your chin with one hand, fisting his dick with the next. You open your mouth, not sure where he wants it, body buzzing from the low rumbles of his moans and praise. “Fuck,” the word falls from his lips as you feel his warm cum land in ropes on your cheeks, lips, and tongue. “Look at you… Shit,” he groans.
Rafe doesn’t loosen his hold, moving closer instead, gliding his warm tongue along your skin, cleaning up your face, keeping your lips popped open with his grasp, but you wouldn’t dare close it. He spits in your mouth; his climax landing on your tongue. “Swallow it, baby,” he whispers against your lips, gentle yet commanding, sending chills down your spine.
Before you can’t think, Rafe moves you through the water, resting you on his lap to face him, chest to chest. Your hands rest on his broad body, the two of you breathing rapidly together. Rafe reaches for you, wrapping his big arms around your waist—lips latching onto the sensitive spot on your neck.
“Fuck me, Rafe…” Those are the only three words he needed to hear, pulling you exactly where he wants you again. You hold your breath, swathing your arms around his neck, nails clawing into his massive shoulders as you bury yourself in his neck, whimpering as you take every inch.
“Just like that… Just like that, princess,” Rafe huffs, tossing his heavy head back at the feeling of you. You rest your hand on your stomach, feeling him deep. “And look at you takin’ it all, baby,” he drawls as he takes his turn nestling himself in you, taking a hold of your hips to urge you to rock against him.
Water starts to move around you, crashing against the back of the bath; rolling over the edge. "That's a good girl,” he moans as you tighten your walls around him, moving at a slightly quicker pace.
Rafe raises his hand, wrapping his ringed fingers around your throat, squeezing before pulling you to his lips. The two of you start moving with each other as the pressure builds inside, just seconds away from coming undone in each other's arms.
”Bounce for me,” he mumbles as his gaze falls just like before, eyes stealing glances as your plush tits move, soaked in soapy water.
Rafe hands sneak up your back, cupping the tops of your shoulders, shifting himself on top. You cry out in pleasure, voice bouncing off the walls of the bathroom as he fucks his dick deep.
”Cum for me,” he whispers, and you do. Your perfect pussy fluttering around his throbbing dick as he empties himself deep, filling your cunt with his cum. Your body becomes one with the water and him, lips mirroring his as you come down from your highs together.
“Two more nights, princess…” He pants between passionate kisses. “You’re comin’ back here tomorrow night… N’we’re doing this again. Promise me… I just want to take care of you…”
You smile against his lips, living in the afterglow of your pleasure. “I promise.”
#rafeyscurtainbangs kinkmas 2024 ❄️#rafeyscurtainbangs library 📚#rafe cameron#rafe#outer banks#obx#rafe x reader#older rafe cameron#dilf!rafe#rafe smut#rafe cameron smut#rafe x you#rafe cameron x reader
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FAVORITE PLACE ? BETWEEN YOUR LEGS
synopsis: just short headcannons of ellie williams who just loves to eat you out !
content warnings : NSFW 18+ ( viewer discretion advised ), fem!reader, men do not interact, wlw content, eating you out, face sitting, praise / degradation, mentions of fingering, squirting <3
Ellie absolutely LOVES having her head between your legs, bonus points if you are wearing a skirt. She’ll be quick to get on her knees, her hands on your thighs and gently kissing at your skin. You’ll end up begging for her tongue already, but she likes to tease her sweet girl, see how wet you’ll get for her before she savours you.
How she’ll have to love her hands to your waist, your legs shaking, keeping you still while she continues to go down on you. Your fingers will tangle tightly in her hair, and every so often she’ll pause to lock eyes with you and see how well she is pleasing you.
“Ah.. fuck..” whimper almost falling from your lips like a whisper, as your legs continued to shake. you haven’t looked down in a while, for your eyes have remained close and your head thrown back. “More..!”
“Greedy girl,” you hear her mumble against your inner thigh before two slick fingers slide inside of you, her tongue returning back to your clit. The combo was overstimulating, almost making your legs shut entirely, but your girlfriend was strong enough to keep them open.
Another way that Ellie adores eating you out, is when you are sitting on her face. Your hands on the headboard, her hands on your ass you ride her face until dawn. Her nose resting against your clit while her tongue devours your insides.
You were always worried about crushing her with your weight but she promises she can handle it, and forces your weight on her with her hands. There is no better way to have you other than you sitting on her face.
“F-Fuck…” you whimper, the bed shaking and your nails digging into the headboard. You squeak every so often when a sharp sting lands on your ass, every time you try to lessen your weight on your girlfriend’s face.
Her tongue is deep inside of you, thrusting in and out and making you scream her name, your legs shaking. “Fuck.. so sweet,” you hear her breathe against your clit before she returns to eating you out. Her pace is phenomenal, and you are left melting, your nipples hard and your legs ready to give out.
“I-I’m gonna cum!” You whimper trying to lift from her face, but her hands on your ass keeps you down. Ellie wasn’t going to work this hard and not enjoy your sweet taste. It isn’t long until you finish, squirting into her mouth, and all she can do is swallow every single drop.
#tlou ෆ#tlou smut#tlou hbo#tlou part 2#ellie tlou#ellie williams#ellie willams x reader#ellie the last of us#ellie x reader#ellie x fem reader#ellie x you#ellie x y/n#ellie smut#ellie x reader smut#wlw post#lesbian
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R thinks Alexia is embarrassed to be dating her because R hasn't met her friends when in reality she doesn't want the team to scare R away.
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The first thing you notice when Alexia walks through the door is her expression. A mix of contentment and exhaustion, like she’s just finished saving the world but could still go another round if she had to. Her hair is tied back in that effortlessly perfect way that you’ve never quite managed to replicate, no matter how many YouTube tutorials you’ve watched.
“Hey,” she says, setting down a bag of groceries on the counter like it didn’t cost her at least fifty euros for whatever organic nonsense she’s insisted on this week.
“Hi,” you reply, the word clipped, your voice low.
She pauses, turning to look at you with that face. The one that says she’s already analysing the situation and will probably win whatever argument is about to unfold. You hate that she’s good at this. You hate even more that you’ve already lost, but you press forward anyway.
“So,” you start, trying for casual but landing somewhere closer to brittle, “I was just thinking. You know how we’ve been dating for, oh, six months now?”
Her eyebrows lift, just a fraction, but she says nothing.
“And how I still haven’t met any of your teammates?”
There’s the flicker of understanding in her eyes, followed by something that looks suspiciously like guilt. You press on, emboldened.
“Not even one,” you add, holding up a finger for emphasis. “Not Irene, not Keira, not even Ingrid, and she seems like she wouldn’t hurt a fly”
Alexia sighs, rubbing a hand over her face, and you know you’ve struck a nerve. “It’s not like that,” she says.
“Oh, isn’t it?” You fold your arms, leaning back against the counter. “Because it kind of feels like you’re embarrassed of me”
That gets her. She blinks, her mouth opening and closing as if she’s trying to form words but failing spectacularly. You’re on a roll now.
“I mean, it’s fine if you are,” you say, with a shrug that’s entirely too casual. “I get it. I’m not, like, a professional athlete or anything. I don’t even know what half those drills you talk about are. I had to Google what a rondo was”
“Cariño,” she interrupts, her voice soft but firm, and it derails you just enough to make you falter.
“What?”
She steps closer, her hands finding your hips in that way that always makes your resolve crumble. “I’m not embarrassed of you. I could never be embarrassed of you”
“Then why—”
“Because,” she cuts you off again, her forehead resting lightly against yours now, “my teammates are… a lot”
You blink at her, thrown. “A lot?”
She nods, her lips twitching like she’s trying not to laugh. “Yes. Imagine a group of very competitive, very opinionated people who spend way too much time together. Now imagine them interrogating you about every single detail of our relationship”
“I think I could handle it,” you say, but your voice wavers just enough to betray you.
Alexia smirks, pulling back just slightly so she can meet your gaze. “Could you handle Mapi trying to figure out your star sign within five seconds of meeting you?”
“I—”
“Or Patri asking you whether you think pineapple belongs on pizza?”
“I mean—”
“And then there’s Aitana, who will definitely ask if you’ve ever made me cry”
Your mouth opens, but no words come out. She raises an eyebrow like she’s already proven her point.
“Okay,” you admit after a beat. “That does sound… intense”
“Exactly.” She presses a quick kiss to your forehead before stepping back, as if that seals the conversation. “I just don’t want them to scare you off”
“Alexia,” you say, grabbing her wrist before she can fully retreat. “I’m not going anywhere”
She looks at you then, her expression softening in that way that makes your chest ache. “I know. But you’re too good to deal with all that. At least not yet”
“Not yet?”
“Maybe next month,” she teases, a rare grin breaking across her face.
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navillera (x.mh)
pairing: ballerina!reader x ballet teacher!minghao
preview: minghao can see your raw potential. you just need a little... incentive.
tags/warnings: fem reader, age gap (minghao is 35 and reader is 21), lots of flexible positions, kinda mean dom minghao, sir kink, fingering, oral (fem.receiving), degrading, monster cock minghao, dacryphilia, choking, marking, praise, pet names (slut, baby, pretty girl), unprotected penetration (wrap it before you tap it), creampie
trigger warnings: n/a
wc: 1.6k
song rec for this fic: all i got by baekhyun
a/n: sorry for scarce posting mls
training for the nutcracker has been more difficult than you had anticipated. your teacher has been so hard on everyone. his perfectionism was definitely showing. the constant cries of “straighten your leg!” or “point your toes!” have been ingrained in your brain. you’ve honestly become paranoid about messing up in front of him. currently, you’re just trying to perfect small things near the end of the show.
you and your dance partner dance carefully together, making sure your legs are straight and there’s not a flat foot in sight. your spun around and lifted effortlessly and you can almost feel a sense of pride filling your bones. but, as you’re put down, the hard box of your ballet slippers lands right on your dance partner’s foot, causing him to cry out.
suddenly, minghao cuts the music off and gestures for everyone to gather around him. “we have our first show next week, i cannot have this show looking this dogshit. we haven’t had a single run that didn’t have a mistake.” everyone around you looks defeated at his words. not a soul in the room isn’t out of breath from his vigorous training demands. “y/n.” he says your name and your eyes dart up to meet his. “do you even know how to do a pas de bourrée?” you gulp, looking down at the floor. “yes, i do, sir.” he scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest. “show me.”
you hesitantly walk to the open space in front of him and get up en pointe. you perform the travelling movement, making sure to keep your legs straight and keep your body lines looking flowy. when you finish, you look over to see the most intimidating scowl on your teacher’s face. “i’m gonna need you to stay after class.” your face flushes bright red as you rush to disappear within the crowd of your classmates.
the rest of the class is a blur. you can’t focus after your teacher embarrassed you like that in front of the whole class. finally, the class ends and you watch as your classmates rush to leave the studio. you and minghao stand on opposite sides of the room, staring at each other. “how long have you been doing ballet?” he asks, stretching arms over his chest. “um, 4 years.” he laughs, wandering over to you. “that’s like nothing compared to your classmates.” he looms over you, his shadow filling you with darkness.
“show me your pirouette.” he moves away from you, gesturing to the empty room. you lift yourself onto your toes and demonstrate a few spins, more than necessary. you stumble at the end and you can feel minghao’s blazing fury. “come here. put your hand on the bar.” you scurry over and do as instructed, your hand resting gently on the wooden bar attached to the wall. he leans down and grabs your ankle. he lifts it until your foot is above your head, your legs spread in a perfect split. “you’re very flexible and your moves are graceful, you just can’t follow through.” he runs his hand down your leg, his hand pausing to rest on your core. you jump, your legs fighting to hold their position.
minghao presses his palm against your core, electricity surging through your veins. you moan slightly before pressing your lips together in a thin line. he runs his finger over your slit through your tights. the thin fabric gives way to how wet you’re becoming at simple touches. “are these your performance tights?” minghao whispers. you shake your head, your legs beginning to ache. suddenly, the sound of fabric ripping fills the room. you gasp at the sudden cold feeling. your knee bends, your leg begging to be let back onto the floor. “keep your fucking leg up while i please you.” he demands as he pushes your panties to the side.
you use your free hand to hold your foot, desperately trying to keep your leg up. minghao licks a wet stripe up your core, salivating at how wet you’d become. you shiver as he licks stripe after stripe up your cunt, savoring your taste as if he’d never tasted something so delicious. “if you can be a good girl and keep your leg up, i’ll let you cum,” he instructed. he dove into your core like he may never eat again. the sideways angle having him gripping every expanse of your ass and thighs he could get at. he rips your tights open more so he can feel your bare skin in his hands.
his tongue jabs at your hole, barely dipping in to feel your dripping walls. his eyes roll back into his head at the way your body jerks whenever he sucks on your clit. your grip the bar on the wall so hard your knuckles turn white. your legs shake as they threaten to close against your will. “p-please sir,” you beg. you don’t even really know what you’re begging for at this point. his fingers find their way to your hole, replacing his tongue. he fingers you with such intensity that you’re worried he might break his hand. your whines and whimpers grow in volume quickly.
he chuckles against you, beginning to eat you with even more intensity. his fingers and his tongue move in sweet tandem. you start to piece together that he doesn’t intend to let you cum, he wants you to let your leg down. your whole body trembles as he licks and sucks on your wet heat until finally; your leg comes down. you stumble backwards and your ballet teacher looks at you with a sinister grin. “so sad, the poor baby doesn’t get to cum on my tongue.“
you look at him, defeated. your legs are so sore you can barely stay standing. minghao seemingly glides over to you before hooking his foot around you to force your knees to bend. you fall backwards and he lays you down on the floor. “can barely follow dance moves, let alone instructions while i’m eating you out. what a disobedient slut.” you whine, writing around on the cold dance practice floor. he slots himself between your legs, pressing his growing erection against your core. your cunt leaves a wet spot on his light colored tights.
he looks down between your legs and sighs dramatically. “look at the fucking stain you’re leaving on my tights. so fucking pathetic,” he spreads your legs into a split again, grinding against your exposed core. your hands find their way to his forearms, digging your nails into his skin. “you’re so flexible and yet you can’t keep your legs straight when dancing. you’d think with a split like this, it would be effortless to you. do you use your split for sex more than dancing? is that it?” you whine at his disapproval.
he separates from you to pull his tights down, a much more gentle gesture than the way he had torn yours open. your eyes widen, watching as he frees his cock. he catches your feverish eyes with his sinister ones. “you think you can take it, baby?” you shake your head slowly and he fakes a look of pity. “you can, and you’re going to.” he takes his place between your legs once again, his cock dragging against your slit. “hold your legs open.” you hook your hands around your thighs, doing your best to stay spread.
he guides himself into your desperate hole, the sting of the stretch filling your senses. your nails dig into the skin of the back of your thighs as you shake underneath minghao. he finally bottoms out and his jaw falls slack. he places his palms by your head, trapping you between his arms. he holds eye contact with you as he draws his hips back before thrusting back in slowly. you savor the feeling of every inch dragging along your walls.
your forearms begin to ache from holding your legs open, your grip slipping. minghao rises to his knees and swats your hands away from your thighs. he replaces them with his own, folding you in half. his thrusts pick up in speed, drilling you full of his cock. “such a good fucking girl, taking my cock. you like when your teacher fills you up, huh?” you nod, your brain not even computing what he’s saying. “words, slut.” you pant desperately, trying to even muster a few words. “y-yes, sir.”
he lands a couple hard slaps to the soft skin of your thighs, leaving bright red hand print marks. you squeal, clenching around him. your senses go into overdrive when he wraps one hand around your throat, applying just enough pressure for your vision to go slightly fuzzy. tears spring to your eyes and flow down the side of your face. he stops holding you down and moves his other hand to your clit, rubbing over it quickly. “fuck, i’m so close, pretty girl. want you to cum for me, can you do that?” you nod to the best of your abilities and he smiles.
your body spasms as he drives you closer and closer to the edge. you wrap both your hands around his wrist as he tightens his grip just a little more. “c-cumming,” you choke out. minghao lets out an animalistic groan as you clamp down on him. you wrap your legs around him to lock him into place, his last couple thrusts chasing his own orgasm. his hips stutter as his cum fills you to the brim, leaking out of you and onto the floor. he finally releases your throat and you suck in a few labored breaths.
he pulls out of you and admires your spent body on the floor. “god, i think we should have more after class practices. do you agree?” you’re too tired to even respond but the way you shiver tells him everything he needs to know. he chuckles before reclothing himself. “there’s a pair of extra leggings in the closet. you might wanna put those on before you leave.” he grabs all of his things and walks away to the door. “see you tomorrow, y/n.”
© lomlhwa 2025
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worship you — sam winchester ꒦꒷ kinktober day nine ; priest kink
cw : gn!afab!reader, smut, softdom!sam, oral (reader receiving), religious metaphors, pet names (baby, honey), 1.5K words. MDNI !!! 18+ ONLY.
sam won’t tell you this now—he’d barely admit it to himself at first—but as he put on that black suit and white collar this morning, he hoped it would turn you on. only, he didn’t really think that it would. he figured that, however hot it might be, that sort of thing tends to be overexaggerated in media or online platforms, so he pushed the thought aside in favor of focusing on the case.
then you’d stepped out of the bathroom after brushing your teeth and when your gaze snagged on his cleanly dressed form, you didn’t even attempt to hide the way your eyes raked over him. he had thought in the moment that he could get drunk off the way you looked at him alone, surprised and yeah, really damn turned on.
but before either of you could get a word in, dean was rushing sam out the door, leaving you to research while they were off to interview witnesses.
the wait was absolutely worth it, because now he has you all to himself, pretty much desperate after several distracted hours of research, during which the only thing you could think of was how hot he looks in that suit.
when he walks through the motel door without dean in tow behind, sam indulges you when you practically throw yourself at him. he catches you easily in his arms, grasping your hips when you run your hands up his chest and kiss him hard. your hold, not gentle at all, smoothes up to the sides of his neck and he feels the stiff clerical collar pressing into his skin.
of course, he kisses back with just as much enthusiasm. he’s had that look on your face from this morning stuck in his head all day, and now he’s ready to see your features contorted with bliss. he’s been thinking far too much about all the ways he could drive you crazy to be considered focused on this case.
he pleases you by softly groaning into your mouth as you push your tongue past his lips, but he doesn’t let you take and take for all that long. instead, he pulls away and you’re already short of breath, chasing his lips with yours.
“wait a minute, baby,” he hushes softly, voice a little strained.
“don’t wanna wait,” you protest, trying not to sound whiny but failing a bit, “been waiting for you all day.” he holds back a grin at that, running his big hands up and down your sides.
“i know, i know,” he murmurs, “just… just slow down a second.” he tips his head into the crook of your neck, barely ghosting his lips over your skin. “dean’ll be gone a while. we’ve got time.” his hot breath tickles your skin and you move a hand to grip his shoulder. sam speaks all soft and reassuring, but you can hear that edge to his voice. you’re not sure why he’s trying to take it slow, and it takes him a minute to figure it out himself.
but when you tangle a hand in his hair and give an unconscious tug at the feeling of his lips pressing sweetly into your neck, he realizes.
“c’mon,” you urge, impatiently slipping a hand under his suit jacket and trying to push it off his shoulder. he stops you immediately, fingers wrapping around your forearm and pulling it away from his body.
he lifts his head to look at you, to take in your expression of sweet desperation. “not yet,” he scolds gently. sam debates explaining, but sometimes he likes to test your willingness to go along with him.
you want something, anything. there are times where you can be patient, where you’ll follow along without a single protest no matter how needy you are, but this is not one of those times. maybe it’s the outfit, the lack of sleep from last night, or the fact that you haven’t been able to have sam like this in too long because of hunts. most likely it’s everything working in tandem to make you so impatient.
so you put your all into testing his resolve, pushing his most sensitive buttons. you give his hair a little tug and you see the way it makes his upper lip twitch a bit, like he’s holding back a groan or soft growl. then you shift the arm in his hold to tangle your fingers through his and look at him all soft and sweet and loving. and because you need it so bad, you trail your hand down his torso as you begin to slowly sink to your knees. it feels like you have the right to tease him a little too now.
but he stops you, even when his eyes betray how much he wants this too. he slots a hand under your armpit and effortlessly pulls you right back up.
“nuh-uh,” he shakes his head, then reaches up to brush his thumb over your cheekbone. his voice is surprisingly still soft and sweet as he speaks. clearly, he wants something specific, and other days you might’ve really pushed his patience by now. “c’mon, honey. need you to listen to me right now, promise you’ll like it.” that pacifies you. he can’t help but smirk at how quickly he sees your body shift in reaction to his words. now, you’re perfectly pliable in his hands and he knows it instantly. “there we go,” he murmurs, dipping his head back into the curve of your neck.
slowly, he kisses down your neck all while he backs you into the bed. his hands roam, softly palming at your sides, slipping under your shirt and touching your skin like it’s holy. when he pulls your shirt fully off and lays you out on the bed for him, he kisses down your body and praises your beauty like he worships you.
so good for me. you’re so good for me. you’re so beautiful, you’re perfect. always so perfect for me. can’t get enough of you, baby.
and then it hits you. that’s exactly what he’s doing; he’s worshipping you, dressed like a holy man who’s supposed to be clean and pure in the eyes of god. but you’re his perverted deity and your body is the altar at which he kneels.
then he really is kneeling, just how he knows you’d want to see him, pulling you down to the edge of the bed by your ankles.
“sam,” you gasp, scrambling to sit up so you can see him there. “god,” you whisper, ready to start begging him to taste you now. you gulp and your chest heaves with breath; you’re sure that the sight of him kneeling between your legs in that crisp suit and white collar will be the last thing you see before you die, because it’s so filthy and clean and perfect all at once that you think it could end you. your thighs tense and your clothed pussy clenches around nothing.
his fingers slip under the waistband of your pants and underwear and he doesn’t have to even start tugging before you’re leaning back on your palms and lifting your hips. you know why he’s going so damn slow, with his fingers dragging along the length of your legs, and his eyes taking in the sweet sight of you like you’re the epitome of beauty. you just can’t help but squirm a little, absolutely desperate for something more.
“please, sam,” you pant, your voice a soft whine.
“i know,” he whispers, soothing you with his big, idolizing hands on your thighs.
then finally, he’s leaning forward, bumping your clit with his perfect nose before his flattened tongue swipes up your slit, intent on soaking up every bit of your sweet wetness that he can in just one movement. you moan lowly, desperately, and sam is high off your taste in less than seconds.
sam reveres you with his tongue. he’s agonizingly slow, perfectly dedicated, absolutely faithful to you and your utter pleasure. his moans and murmured praises into your warmth are prayers and the act is a devotion that sam will perform any day. every day, because just sundays would never be enough. every day is a holy day so long as he gets to put his mouth on your begging cunt.
despite how purposeful and slow he is today, he’s still as messy as ever. he slurps at your pussy and suckles on your clit and makes the lewdest sounds that you’ve ever heard. he drinks up your pleasured noises like he drinks up your wetness.
you were wrong before, because this is the sight that will kill you. now, his arms are hooked around your thighs to keep you in place as he makes you feels so good that you tremble. and he doesn’t look clean, not at all, not anymore. his hair is tousled and roughed up from your hand in his hair, half of his face, from the tip of his nose down to his chin, is covered in a shiny coating of your slick, and that damn collar. in all of his eagerness to eat you out like you’re the only god he’ll ever believe in, the collar has come loose, laying crooked against his neck, it’s purity ruined.
sam gives you that small death, your devotee brings you to heaven. when you cum into his mouth, almost embarrassingly fast, sam thinks he’ll have to keep the collar on when he fucks you.
TAGLIST
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⟢ kinktober : @this-is-me19 ; @ponygyatt ; @tranquilitybasegrunge ; @anu-piyakya97 ; @yeyrpp2 ; @maeve-24 ; @i-luvsang .
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#. >> kinktober '24 !#sam winchester smut#sam winchester x reader#supernatural smut#sam winchester x gn!reader#supernatural#sam winchester fanfiction#sam winchester x y/n#sam winchester suggestive#sam winchester x you#sam winchester#sam winchester drabble#supernatural headcanon#sam winchester supernatural#sam winchester headcanon#supernatural suggestive#spn sam winchester#sam winchester fluff#kinktober
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thoughts
1.6k / joel miller x virgin!reader / master
sequel to Aches but can read alone. Next: Needs. Series masterlist. WARNINGS: I8+ mdni, big girthy age gap (20/50s) only one sleeping bag, pining, fingering, grinding, jacking off, hand job, mutual masturbation, innocence, pet names. No use of y/n.
🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤
“You don’t have to do it for me,” you whisper.
The problem is, the more Joel relieves you, the more often you seem to ache. The more you think about him and his body - his body pressed against yours, wrapped around yours. Inside yours - It’s what you think about all day, every day now. It’s getting really bad. It’s hard to keep eye contact sometimes.
-
Earlier, you were both rummaging through an abandoned convenience store. Joel walked up and asked, “Find anything ya like?” You turned around and your eyes instantly fell on his tight jeans. He followed your gaze down, then slowly stepped toward you. “Hmm?” he prompted you.
You stammered, “Sorry. What?”
He smiled to himself. “See anything ya like?”
“I, uh-”
“In the store, honey.” He briefly glanced around the building. “Find anything good?”
“Oh. No, I guess not.” Your whole face was hot.
He cupped your burning cheek and his brow furrowed as he asked, “You okay, sweetie? You’re warm.”
“Yeah, I’m okay,” you whispered with your eyes drowning in his. A pool was forming in your panties and his touch on your face made you throb between the legs. It was that moment you realized how out of control your desires were getting. It was a constant distraction.
-
Now you’re huddled in his sleeping bag as usual. Joel is spooning you with his hard dick pressed against you. Your top leg is back slightly behind you, between his legs, to make room for his hand between your thighs. He’s two knuckles deep and you’re already close to falling apart. He’s been helping you for a couple of weeks now, and it gets easier and easier to let yourself come.
“Course I don’t have to,” he says and pushes another finger into you. You inhale a chest full of air as he pushes his digits to the hilt and curls them. Your hips lift into his hand which was already soaked with your arousal before he inserted a single digit. “Why? Want me to stop?” Your clit rubs against his slick palm as he expertly works his fingers.
“No,” you whisper. “I don’t want you to stop.”
“Good,” he murmurs, moving his fingers rhythmically as you grind into his hand. Then he whispers in your ear, “Cause I kinda like doin’ it.”
You moan softly.
“Ya know,” he says softly, “You might like helpin’ me, too.”
You’ve thought so much about his cock. You’ve felt it pressed hard against you so many times through his boxers and your panties. You’ve never touched it though, not with your hands. You haven’t felt the skin, except one time when it was accidentally peeking through his boxers and the tip touched your lower back, making a wet spot on your shirt. When you flinched, he apologized.
“Yeah,” you whisper. “Maybe.”
“Why don’t we find out,” he murmurs. “try just a few seconds?”
You swallow, ashamed of your eagerness for anything involving his cock. “Okay,” you say hesitantly.
“Good girl.” He takes his hand away from between your legs for just long enough to free his aching manhood from his boxers and lube it with your slick. “Gimme your hand, sweetie.”
“I dunno how or anything,” you tell him. You clench your thighs together, still in need of relief. You’re not sure if you’ve ever ached this badly.
“That’s okay. Don’t gotta do anything.”
You slowly reach back, offering him your hand as you crane your neck to look to his eyes for reassurance. It’s too dark to see, but you can still feel what his warm eyes would look like.
“Think you’re gonna like this. But if ya don’t, ya don’t have to, okay?” He wraps your hand around his cock upside down. “Yeah,” he whispers. “Just kinda hold it. That’s all ya gotta do.” His breathing is heavier with your hand touching his stiff cock. It’s larger than you thought it would be. You always imagined you’d easily be able to wrap your hand around one.
Joel thrusts into your slick hand and you feel a stab of need.
“How’s that?” he asks, thrusting slowly into your hand again with a barely audible grunt.
“Good,” you whisper, holding your hand behind you. The skin of his shaft is so smooth. Now more than ever, you’re aching to be filled.
“Attagirl,” he murmurs. “Still want my help, right?”
“Yeah,” you breathe.
“Good girl.” He reaches his arm over yours and slides his hand between your legs again. He softly groans when he feels how much wetter you are than you were just a minute ago. All this, just from touching his cock. “God damn,” he whispers.
“What?”
“Nothin', baby.”
It would be hard to say what you prefer - having his cock thrust into your hand or against your body. But finally feeling it naked, feeling its shape, the softness of the skin, the impossible firmness of the erection – it takes your breath away. He slides two fingers into your cunt and pumps them at the same slow rhythm he’s thrusting into your hand.
Your pleasure builds rapidly, and you badly need release. “Doin’ great, baby,” he says in a deep, gruff whisper. “Just perfect.” He gradually increases the pace, moving his fingers and cock in unison. His cock fills your hand as his fingers fill your dripping cunt. You’re keenly aware of what you’d rather be filled with.
He softly grunts into your hair. “Ohh, yeah,” he sighs as he thrusts into your hand and pumps his fingers.
You whimper at the edge of your climax, your upper back pressing into his chest and your hips grinding desperately into his large hand as his fingers fuck you. Your whole body tenses.
He talks you through it soothingly as usual, lips planted near your ear. “Yeah, baby,” he murmurs, “you’re there, I got ya.” Your hips push desperately into the palm of his hand, and his hand pushes back just right. You whine his name as your core finds its stuttering release. The pleasure is more explosive than ever.
“Good girl,” he whispers. You recover for a few seconds, then turn around to face him. He quickly folds down the unzipped sleeping bag for more space and rolls onto his back. “You wanna keep helpin’?”
You nod and whisper, “yeah.” Then you add “Am I doing okay?”
“'Course you are, baby. Get your hand wet between your legs now,” he says, which embarrasses you.
“Nothin’ to be ashamed of, remember?”
You take his cock in your hand again and he covers it with his, showing you how tight to grip it and how to stroke it over the head.
“Good girl.”
-
Once you’ve got the hang of it, he asks, “You like helpin’ me?”
You nod as you keep stroking his cock.
Joel says, “Mmm hmm,” and looks at you curiously. “Why’d ya say I don’t have to help?” His breathing is still heavy, but he’s trying to control it as you talk.
You open your mouth but hesitate to answer. Instead, you stare down into the darkness, imagining what his cock must look like based on all the details that are gliding in and out of your hand. He’s soooo hard.
“You can tell me anything, pretty girl.” He takes a deep breath. “We figure stuff out together, remember?” He breathes again. “Always do.”
“Yeah,” you whisper, then you swallow. “I dunno how to say it,” you admit.
“Do your best,” he says.
“Since you’ve been helping me, I’ve been feeling it more often.”
“You have?” he asks. “Like how?” His hips subtly move as you keep stroking his cock.
“Like during the day. Randomly.”
“That’s okay, baby.”
“But it aches, and it’s distracting.”
“Distracting?” His voice becomes more strained.
“I have a lot of thoughts all the time.”
“What kinda thoughts, baby?” His voice has a sense of urgency.
“About you.”
He moans softly. “Uh-huh. Like what?”
“Um-”
“Tell me anything, baby,” he quickly reassures you, nearly out of breath.
“About this,” you whisper. You pause to give his cock a squeeze to make sure he knows that’s what you’re talking about. “Yeah, about this.” Then you continue stroking.
“Ohh baby,” he exhales. “Course ya do.”
“All the time,” you whisper.
“And what about it?” he pants.
“I’m not sure,” you mutter.
“Thinkin’ ‘bout me bein’ inside you?” he asks, still panting. He moans softly.
“Yeah,” you whisper.
“Ohhhhhh, God,” he sighs as he begins to pulse into your hand. “God damn, baby,” he breathes as he releases his last hot, sticky rope into your fist.
-
Joel catches his breath, then says, “'Course ya have those thoughts, sweetie. I have the same thoughts. Everyone does."
“You do?”
“It’s normal,. They teach biology in FEDRA school right?”
“Yeah.”
“It’s biology, honey. Our bodies feel things for each other. They wanna be together in the way they’re meant to. It’s how we work - Nothin’ but science.”
You’re not sure how that’s supposed to help you.
He reaches for his backpack and grabs some paper to wipe off your hand and his stomach.
“So what do I do about it?” you ask him.
He’s quiet for a few seconds. "Let’s think about it, honey. We’ll figure it out together.”
“Okay.”
“We’ll figure it out, sweetie. We always do.”
“Yeah.”
He wraps himself around you and kisses your head, then you say good night. You think about what he said so matter of factly. The thought of it excites you but also scares you. Especially now that you’ve felt how big he is with your hand for scale.
🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤
Thank you so much for reading and engaging. Love you guys <33
if you like this, please check out my dbf x innocent virgin! reader fic Left in Lincoln (dbf x virgin) which has been ongoing since April. Read warnings. Also, my master list has a virginity section on it.
You can subscribe to @toxicfics for notifications and @toxicrecs for my fic recs.
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#joel miller x reader#joel miller smut#joel miller drabble#joel miller fic#pedro pascal fic#perv!joel miller#dark!joel miller#pedro pascal#pervy!joel miller#pedro pascal smut#toxicanonymity ☠️#joel jacks off#PPCU jacks off#PPCU jacks off ☠️
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𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐓✩’𝐒 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓
CHARACTERS— Santa!Gojo Satoru x pretty sexy gorgeous fem!reader SUMMARY— Supposedly another Christmas night being lonely and horny, you’re suddenly woken up by Santa coming to claim you your Christmas gift. WORD COUNT— 3k+ CONTENT WARNING— slight angst, swearing, smut, porn with plot, virginity lost, fingering, clit sucking, oral sex, no protection A/N— Merry Christmas, my fellow bitchless angels 😔 Ya’ll better not let this shit flop or else I’m going insane. btw guys God literally told me face-to-face that my dog is cuter than your pet 😨 it’s true tho
“So,” your co-worker, Mina started as she haled the roll-up gate down, flipping her long extensions behind her shoulder before grabbing the lock from your extended hand, “got any plans this Christmas?”
“I don’t know…I’ll probably go out with my friends to the new cat cafe. You?” you watched as her fingers worked deftly to lock the gate before trying to pull it open in an attempt to make sure she got it locked.
“Kai wants to visit Ginzan Onsen, said it’ll be the best place to ‘make love’ or something. I mean, long story short he thinks it’s a cute place to fuck,” Mina apprised, always a little bit too forward with her wordings—her bold personality and style amolous from yours.
Albeit she’s amiable and kind, you still couldn’t quite get used to her blatant forwardness despite working with her for the past 5 months. And Mina loved teasing you about how sensitive you are; already blushing from the mere word ‘fuck’.
“Look at how cute you are, (Y/N). Your face is starting to get red!” she giggled, pointing as you hit her arm, feeling your cheeks warming against the cold winter air. “You know, they say the shy-est are usually the kinkiest…”
“Just leave me alone, Mina!” you embarrassingly whined, slapping a palm over her glossed lips before pushing her away. She lets out a few satisfied laughs before raising her hands up in capitulation, already knowing when to stop before you get irritated at her.
“Alright, I’m sorry, ‘kay baby?” she cooed, plump lower lips jutting out into a pout as she wrapped her arms around your waist.
“You keep teasing me,” you frowned and pushed her stubborn hands off of you before you began walking towards the train station.
“Cuz’ you’re so cute. You’re always acting like such a virgin,” her arm hung over your shoulders and your body sunk forward at the sudden weight.
“Now, is there a problem with that…” you spoke lowly, flickering your sight towards her, wary of her reaction.
“You cannot be shitting me?!” Mina widened her eyes, two elder couples turning their attention on her egregious tone, “I mean like, look at you! You’re so pretty and such a good girl. Who wouldn’t want you?! I want you!”
“I don’t know…I just haven’t met the one.”
“There’s tons of guys who want you, (Y/N)! You gotta be a little bold, get out of your shell if you wanna meet ‘your one’.”
“Man…I just wish someone perfect for me who isn’t a creep would come to me,” you sighed, your hand holding onto Mina’s dangling one over your neck. Nearing the station, you could see Kai, her boyfriend already waiting by the entrance for her—probably heading to dinner together later on.
“You’ll find one for sure,” she glanced at you, a bright reassuring smile on her face, and you returned her one before feeling the weight on your shoulders lifted when she pulled her arm away, then waved at Kai.
“So, how was work today?” the male strode over, his two hands reaching out to hold Mina’s from the pockets of his coat before turning to greet you.
“It’s fine, lots of couples today,” she replied, following as you passed the ticket gate and rode the escalator up to the platform. “And as usual, we got a few single lads asking for our pretty girl’s Line today.”
“Yeah, and you forgot to add that they’re either delinquents or high school boys,” the two couples chortled as you sighed, tired of how you’re always attracting guys who are definitely not your type.
“We’re gonna have to get security for our candy shop because of our (Y/N), huh?” Mina joked, nudging Kai’s side with her shoulder as you rolled your eyes.
Within seconds, the bells signaling the coming arrival of the train started, the train announcer apprising the next destination as Shinjuku-sanchōme—20 minutes until you reach your home station.
“Sorry, (Y/N). Kai and I are gonna ride another train to Shinbashi so we can’t go in with you,” the train had arrived and the doors slid open as workmen and women surged in like sea waves.
“No, no! It’s fine. Happy holidays, guys,” you smiled as you began to follow the crowd into the half-packed train.
“Merry Christmas, (Y/N)!” the two bid, Mina waving all the while.
“Enjoy your trip to Ginzan, you two!” you giggled, slightly waving back before jumping onto the train just as its doors began to slide close. The smell of heater and sweat filled your nose and as you swiftly scanned your sight around, you saw most smiling at their phones, probably texting their loved ones, and a few couples giggling in their seats.
Another lonely Christmas, you thought.
Your stomach was growling as you prowled the streets for the nearest convenience store. The sky was already blanketed with darkness and you thought visiting any restaurant would only mount your forlornness, so you figured a quick meal from the store would do for your hunger.
The luminously salient sign of your local convenience store caught your eyes from a distance away, and you hurriedly scorched towards the store. Entering, the cashier greeted you when the automated door slid open with a ding to announce your presence, and you nodded your head with a smile before trodding your way to the back where packed bentos were.
Your eyes raked over the bentos, looking for your favourite Katsudon to find it absent from the display. A surge of annoyance rose in you as your brow knitted into a frown, ‘Can’t even have my Katsudon, huh?’. Grabbing the nearest bento instead, you made your way to the cashier while rummaging through your bag for your wallet.
“Do you want your bento heated up, miss?” the male mooted, a serviceable smile on his face. He caught your affirmative hum before setting the food in the microwave, and silence then transpired between the two of you.
The smell of the heating fried rice pervaded through the air in the wake of the anticipated ‘ding’. The cashier took out the bento and wrapped it in a plastic bag before handing you both the plastic and a card, “Thank you for your purchase, and Merry Christmas!”
You thanked the male and claimed your things before heading out of the store with another ‘ding’, throwing the card into the plastic bag and burying your hands deep in the warmth of your pockets.
What seemed to be your wontedly peaceful route back home suddenly became a path of silent lonesomeness. At that moment, you must be colder than anyone else in Japan. While they have the love and heat of a lover to warm them up—you had no one but yourself.
The walk home was longer than usual and you immediately turned on the heater when you entered your apartment, feeling your limbs beginning to numb. Taking out a few beer cans from the fridge, you set them on the small chabudai along with your cooling packed dinner—ready to scarf down your meal.
It took you an empty bento box and two beer cans to notice the Christmas card the cashier gave you on the wooden floor, probably dropped when you took the packaged meal out of the plastic bag. You could feel yourself getting tipsy as the alcohol set in your veins, rushing to your brain and making it all light and woozy.
“Christmas…Wish?” you read the bold, cursive title aloud, eyes absorbing the contents on the card.
Write a wish on this card and Santa shall grant what you seek!
Aren’t these for kids or something? Why would the cashier give you something like this? It’s obviously fake, but for you to think of a wish…you would love to be a millionaire. Or a billionaire. Or have a pet cat. Or…
Heading to your bedroom to get your pen, you trodded back to the chabudai where the card was, taking your time to ruminate on what to write just for the fun of it. Perhaps it was the alcohol thumping in your pulse, absorbing whatever sense you have in your head as it passed your bloodstream—you found yourself injudiciously scribbling something you normally wouldn’t.
Lose my virginity.
Fire popped beneath the skin of your cheeks as you stared at the piece of card with your writing on it. “I must have gotten insane…” you sighed, rubbing your eyebrows.
Maybe a wash would clear your head, you thought. The beer was making you drowsy and you’d better have an early night. You don’t take long with your shower and you were quick to set your things aside and take out the trash.
It was only 10 but you’ve already settled yourself in your bed, sleepiness blanketing over your head. Your eyelids began to shut, sending you to an abyss of peace and dream.
Then, there was shuffling. And mumbles.
Your consciousness drew back to reality and through your dazed state—you tried to make sense of the noises. Until you began to sober up, there was no one but you in your apartment. No pets nor roommates to be making up all these sounds.
“Who’s there?” you panicked, straining your eyes through the dark, to find a tall silhouette in your room. A sense of aghast rumbled through your being and a shriek ripped itself out of your throat.
You fumbled for something from your bedside table to act as a weapon, and the most threatening object there was was your lamp. At least you could smash it against the intruder and bolt out of your apartment for help.
And as you tried to rip the lamp’s cord out of the socket, its light turned on—revealing the stranger to be…Santa?
“(Y/N), is it?” the male chuckled, rubbing his nape.
“Who are you?!” you screamed, pointing the lamp at him. “Get out of my house, please!”
“Just relax, man. I’m Santa, here to grant you your Christmas wish!”
“Look, I’m just a broke college student! I-I don’t have anything with me. Just leave and I won’t call the cops,” you tried to reason, already starting to break down into hiccups and tears
“Well, I'm sorry. It’s my policy to not leave a house unless I’ve successfully fulfilled one’s desires. So, I won’t be leaving anytime soon!”
“W-What…?” you were beyond dumbfounded, trying to make sense of the random lunatic standing in your room.
“This,” he pointed at the card from the convenience store. “Here, your wish says…to lose your virginity,” the male cladded in his Santa suit bemusedly read aloud.
“No…! I wrote that as a joke!”
“Well, I don’t take Christmas wishes as a joke,” he lifted an eyebrow, resting his hands on his hips.
“Just cut it out, Santa isn’t real,” you retorted, tightening your grip on the handle of the lamp.
“But I am real,” his voice suddenly became closer, and more lucid, his frame had disappeared from your sight—as if he was suddenly gone and had dissipated into space. Whipping your head behind, you found him just there and a scream cracked out of your lungs as you tumbled out of your bed.
“H-How…Wha—“
“I can teleport, y’know?” he smiled, reaching out a hand to pull you up from the floor. “And I can make anything out of thin air,” his other hand rose to have a random Dior bag in his grasp as you stared, shocked and finding it hard to register the scene in front of you.
“So, you’re really…Santa Claus?”
“Yes, and my real name’s Gojo Satoru—at your service,” he slurred, and you found his voice smooth like freshly woven silk. You were silent and still, eyes widening at the white-haired male in front of you. “Speaking of your Christmas wish…”
Your face burst into florid red as you awkwardly laughed, “Could you please just forget about that?”
“Now, if you’ve read carefully; no changing or refusing of wishes once you’ve written ‘em down,” he pointed at the small text at the bottom of the card, “You must’ve missed it just now.”
Thinking over the situation, something in you cracked as you realised—you were going to lose your virginity to Santa Claus. Your eyelids twitched as you nervously chuckled. This gotta be a heck of a joke.
“Hey, don’t underestimate me!” Gojo had caught your expression, and as if he was reading your thoughts, his eyebrows knitted into a frown.
“T-Then what are we supposed to do now?” you asked, switching your gaze away and feeling hot embarrassment tickling your skin.
“No need to worry,” Gojo gave a reassuring smirk, “just trust me.”
Alright, trust.
You felt the bed shift with his weight, and he was hovering over you—face mere inches away. His eyes seemed to sparkle like those of a diamond; blue stars orbiting in his orbs, and you note the plump shape of his lips, so visually kissable.
For the second time, as if he had caught your thoughts, he let his lips mould into yours. He felt soft and plump like peach, and he smelled like a merge of snow and warmth.
Your lips danced in the dark, and your body leaned forward towards him as he fell back, something about the kiss was unbreakable. It felt so soft, it felt so good.
You let his hands wander around your curves from underneath your pyjamas, meet the shape of your hips and dips of your waist, then the roundness of your breasts. You let him study your body with the cold tips of his fingers and slip your clothes off when he wanted to.
A soft moan slipped out of your tongue when the cold December air hit your nipples, and Gojo took no time to let his tongue play with your buds. His hands continued to roam around your body, pressing a finger against the wet spot through your pants.
“You fine with this?” he pointed at the way his fingers slid over your clothed core. You wordlessly nodded, drifting your sight away before you felt yourself benignly pushed onto your back, your pants slowly slipping off of your legs along with your panties.
You were bare, in front of a man you’ve met tonight. But at the same time, you felt oddly safe with him. This was only a wish come true and nothing more, you affirmed.
His long fingers began to reach deep inside, and your nerves tingled at where they caressed your walls. His pace switched after a few pumps and his fingers were dextrously pistoning in and out of your cunt. You could hear your erotic slick coating his digits as it follows his rhythm, and your cheeks burn hot in shyness.
His face lowered to your pussy, and his tongue began playing with your clit. A sharp mewl escaped from your lips as his cheeks hallowed from sucking on your nub and his fingers paced up over the gummy spot deep inside.
Pleasure began amassing in your nerves and you could feel yourself brimming over the edge of lucidity. Gojo didn’t stop and instead, fastened his digits in and out of you, the sound of sex was loud through your state of delirium and he was coaxing all the pleasure there was in you.
Then, you spilled. Your thighs tightened around his head, fingers gripping onto his white locks as you’re sent to a world of blank bliss. Gojo peeks up at you as you pause with your lips parted, edges of eyebrows sewn to the stars, and half a wail stayed choked in your throat.
“You alright?” he chuckled, raising his upper body to your blushed face. You didn't say a word and drove your tongue into his mouth, arms locking him closer to you. The shared heat between your two bodies warmed the air around you, and you thought maybe that’s what it feels like to have a lover.
“Yeah,” you breathed, still ever so shy yet for once, a daring timbre crawled through your tone. “I think I’m ready…”
“If princess wants it,” his lips crack into a smile against yours, pants pulled down and hand pumping his length, fat tip lined against your entrance. Peeking down, regret almost settled into your being when you saw his size. Would it fit?
Then, he saw you and reassured you that he would go slow. No need to worry and to trust. So, you did. Bashfully spreading your thighs open for him.
Your muscles squeezed when he first entered, and he let out a long groan with a pause to his hips. It took a few seconds until he began to move, this time with a thumb rolling your clit to loosen your grip. Every inch of his cock stretched into your cunt made you go almost insane—the pain that first came was soon replaced with a delicate buzz of pleasure.
His hips were slow to thrust at first, gentle and soft until your walls had adjusted to his girth. Your little moans began to fill the chilly air when he slowly started to quicken up, and the bed began to squeak along with his rhythm.
“You look so pretty, y’know?” like silk, slinking through the hot air and into your ears. Every time his curved tip kisses your G-spot, you feel blank—blank of pleasure and stimulation. He could see it in your face, always able to read your features so well.
“Mmhp—” you let out a moan when he pulled your hips closer to him, fucking deep into your squelching cunt. Your back arched from the way his cock rubbed against your walls, hands over your mouth to muffle your whines.
“I wanna hear your pretty moans, (Y/N),” Gojo teased, softly leading your hands into his before fucking himself harder, deeper inside of you.
“Nngh! Feels s-so good—haa!” your hips began to move with his, legs hugging him closer to you and the world seemed to be on vertigo. Pleasure pervaded through every single cell in your body and your blood was pumping loud in your ears. “Please, I wanna cum!”
“Whatever princess says,” you could hear the smirk in his quivering tone, and with a few deep thrusts, the coil inside of your womb snapped—and your essence wet his thighs; your shaky moans high-pitched and sharp. “Yeah, pretty girl. Just like that.”
Static shot through your nerves, and your clit throbs against the hot air. Gojo let a thumb circle your nub, rubbing it through your climax as your nails sink into the skin of his arm. You could feel the warm mix of cum slipping out of your lips, running down your skin and into the bedsheet.
Once again, you felt the bed shift, and the warmth that held you lifted away. Through your hazy sight, you saw his figure rising, “Merry Christmas, pretty.”
@coolpizzazonkplaid @byhuenii @idkmanimreallysleepy @stainednailpolishremover @jxnyi @peachtreexoxo @yaygurist @lalaloverss @aexlime @naruucore @sathavious @guillermowhatwedointheshadows @mistygrovesarchive @glittercums @altmoo @lollixgoddess @victoriak01 @kimminjulvr @ghostlyluminarycloud @satorminniett @someonewhotendstowrite @buhdussy @ichirasblog @kokomisworld @magiouu @bobbicore @xxshiino @urmommyzhot @jjkwhor3 @erostaeyong @tojisprincesa @edgyficuselastica @clemianna @fromthechaoticmind @idkcoolise @fallinlovewithbeelzebub @sirshitsalot12 @kuraa01 @awyunh @lxvegojo
#jjk x reader#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen smut#anime#jjk#gojou satoru x reader#gojou x reader#gojo satoru#satoru gojo#jjk gojo#gojo x reader#jujutsu gojo#gojo smut#gojou smut#gojou satoru x you#gojo satoru x reader#gojo x you#gojo x y/n#BUNN—nsfw
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‘Talk’
Milf!Wanda Maximoff x Female Reader
You’re sleeping with your best friend’s mom who has been keeping quite the secret from you
Warnings: Smut! 18+ please! Kissing, cursing, oral (W receiving), fingering (R receiving), Wanda being a little mean
Note: Milf!Wanda is back! Y’all can read this as a sequel to Best Friend’s Mom or as a stand alone. I hope you enjoy it!
Milf Wanda Masterlist, Main Masterlist
Ever since that first night with Wanda, you haven’t stopped thinking about her. You’ve been meeting up with her at least once a week to ‘talk.’
That’s what you’ve been calling it over text so it doesn’t look suspicious to anyone who might see it. Your best friend is still clueless to you sleeping with her mom.
You’d be lying if you said you felt bad about sneaking around. If anything, it makes you feel good. And the feeling sets Wanda’s skin on fire. You can tell by the way she devours you every single time.
Wanda asked you to meet yo with her tonight to talk, so when you got out of class you got changed and left campus. Your roommate, and best friend, watched you leave with a shake of her head. She thinks you’re just hooking up with some random girl.
When you arrive at Wanda’s house, she opens the door with a grin.
“Hey sweetheart,” Wanda says. “Come on in.” You walk inside and she keeps her distance from you. You realize that her other kids are still in the house. “The boys are just heading out with their uncle.”
“Okay,” you say. “I’ll just- um-”
“You can go wait in my room, baby,” Wanda says.
You nod and walk to her bedroom. Closing the door behind you, you sit on the bed. You hear Wanda outside the door talking to her brother and kids.
Something tells you to get undressed and wait under the covers for her. You get feelings like this a lot around Wanda. You just randomly feel the urge to do things.
You think maybe it’s intuition.
Wanda eventually comes to her bedroom. She waltzes over to the bed, smiling at you being under the blankets.
“Hi there,” Wanda says. She climbs onto the bed and straddles your body over the sheets. “How’s my babygirl doing?”
“A little stressed about finals, but I’m okay,” you tell her.
“Oh, you’ll be just fine, malyshka,” Wanda replies.
She brushes her hands over your cheeks and pulls you in for a kiss. The covers over your chest begin to fall down as Wanda deepens the kiss.
“Look at you, sweetheart. You’re so ready for me already,” Wanda says.
“Mhm,” you hum as you kiss her again.
She pulls the covers away from your upper body to reveal your bare chest. Wanda doesn’t even question it.
“So beautiful,” she says.
Wanda grips your breasts and kisses down your neck. You practically shiver in her arms at the feeling of the her hands on you.
You reach for her shirt and lift the soft material over her head. Wanda’s lacy bra makes your heart skip.
“Do you want to suck on Mommy?” Wanda asks you. Her voice is raspy and thick with lust.
“Please,” you answer.
Wanda undoes her bra as you lean down to suck on her nipples. You lick at the mound and look up at Wanda through your eyelashes.
“Yes baby,” Wanda moans out. “Just like that.”
You switch breasts and Wanda holds the back of your head to keep you from moving again. Her other hand drifts down your body. It lands between your legs. Wanda is pleased to feel your bare pussy against her hand.
“Such a good girl. So fucking wet for mommy,” Wanda says.
“All for you,” you mumble against her chest. You know she wants to hear it.
She grabs your hair and pulls you away from her chest into a searing kiss. Her finger plunges into your pussy at the same time. Wanda bites your lip to distract you from the feeling.
“Fuck,” you say against her lips.
“Language,” Wanda scolds you. “Ride my fingers, baby.”
“Yes ma’am.”
Wanda moves her fingers in and out of you as you move your hips. She keeps eye contact with you as she quickly moves you closer to your high.
“Are you going to come for me?” Wanda asks.
“Yes,” you say.
“Try again,” Wanda says, slowing her pace down to a painfully slow crawl. She grips your face with her lanky hand. “Or I won’t let you come.”
“Please, mommy,” you say. “I want to come for you.”
“Hm, I don’t know baby.”
“Please? I’ll do anything,” you say.
“Oh?”
You nod. Too focused on your pleasure to respond with words. She’s picked up her pace again.
“I know exactly what you can do for me,” Wanda says. “Come for me first, sweet girl.”
You let yourself go and come hard against Wanda’s fingers.
“There you go,” Wanda says. “Good job, honey.”
Wanda kisses you until you can’t breathe. You go back for more anyways, but Wanda pushes you back down onto the bed. She takes her pants off and shifts to place her wet pussy over your face. Not a bad view from here at all.
“I want to ride your face,” Wanda says. “And you will not stop until I’ve came. Okay?”
“Okay,” you reply, but then add, “Ride my face, mommy.”
Wanda grins and begins to move her hips against your lips. Her thighs on each side of your side are silky and soft. Your hands grip at her ass as she grinds.
“That’s it, honey. Show me how much you love tasting me,” Wanda says.
You hum against her as you continue to eat her out. Her wetness is all over your mouth. Wanda holds onto the headboard and picks up her pace. You can hardly breathe but you don’t mind. Not with such an alluring woman in your face.
“Fuck, I’m coming,” Wanda says without warning.
The grunts and groans she lets out are music to your ears. She’s so perfect.
Wanda comes down from her high and shifts off your face. She lays down next to you, turning to kiss your cheek before she grabs your hand at her side.
“You’re amazing,” Wanda says dreamily. “I really enjoy our talks.”
“Me too,” you say, still breathless from eating her out.
“Y/n,” Wanda begins.
“Hm?”
“Nevermind,” she says.
“What is it, Ms. Maximoff?” You ask her.
“Oh, nothing, sweetheart. Let’s just go to sleep.”
You snuggle into her chest and close your eyes.
She wants to tell you the truth about her secret powers, but she reads your mind and sees how sleepy you are.
Wanda realizes she left the door cracked and she can’t sleep with it open. She uses her red tendrils to shut the door, thinking it would be harmless but the door makes a loud noise when it shuts.
“What was that?” You ask with a start.
“Oh, just the door,” Wanda says. “Must’ve been a draft or something.”
You narrow your eyes at her obvious lie. You don’t know what proof you have but you can sense that the door shutting was something more.
For now, you brush it off. But something tells you Wanda has many secrets. All will reveal itself in due time.
#wanda maximoff x reader#wanda maximoff#milf!wanda#wanda maximoff smut#wanda maximoff fluff#wanda maximoff comfort
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Ghostface killer pt.2
Jungkook x fem reader
Kinktober
Ghost face killer pt.1 here
Word count: 759
Genre: smut drabble - minors DNI
Summary: Everyone has a Scream movie marathon in the living room totally oblivious to Jungkook who sneakily fucks you on the sofa
Warnings: Fluff, smut, explicit language, unprotected sex, sneaky sex, public sex, taboo, orgasm
Notes: I wanted to upload this before October ends, enjoy ;) (I LITERALLY CANT STOP WRITING ABOUT JUNGKOOK!!! LIKE HELP ME PLS IM BEGGING!!!! IM TRYING TO WRITE FOR OTHER MEMBERS BUT I KEEP ON HAVING IDEAS FOR HIM FUCKKK!!! *rips off shirt and transforms into a wolf *)
Jungkook. The man that’s full of surprises and pent up sexual frustration has found his way to sneakily fuck you while everyone else is in the living room in the middle of a scream marathon.
Apparently he could care less about the franchise and has more of an interest in fucking you while you sit on his lap softly moving your hips around his cock.
He must have some interest in the film because his ghostface costume had made a return. You could never describe the excitement it brings you when he fucks you in his mask. You never knew you had a mask kink until Jungkook brought it out of you. But now as your pussy stretches for his thick length, you wonder if it’s the mask or just him.
Probably both.
It’s risky fucking In front of other people, but with everyone’s attention on the film, the intoxication in the room, and both of you sitting away from everyone with yours and Jungkooks black cloaks helping hide the movements, it’s pretty worth it. Especially when he fills you up like that, his hands on your waist guiding you around his length. His soft grunts make you lift yourself up a bit and slowly sit back down, still trying not to gain attention from anyone in the room.
Your moans fill the small area as your head tries to adjust to your senses, while he still makes it his point to fuck you recklessly, moving his waist along with your movements. You can feel him all around you and inside you, moving so gracefully with so much precision you’re sure he’s a sex god, or just trying to kill you, or both. You feel him on your body, his hot touch seeping into your skin and through your veins, as he holds your waist and runs his fingers up your spine, his hips working up to meet your movements. You crave for more of him even though he’s as close as he can get. His scent works its way around you and through you, slowly invading your senses and working its way to your head, nothing else makes any sense in this moment, but him and his touch and smell and everything that is him.
You haven’t uttered a single word since he slipped his dick into you, honestly too fucked out to do so. He enters you with so much precision that you’re sure your orgasm is already approaching. The wetness around your cunt and your thighs just proves it. Luckily the large black cloak covers your exposed pussy and his cock.
You lean back against his chest, becoming tired too quickly. His hands hold your hands that are placed on either side of you on the sofa for support. His thumb gently stroking the top of your hand, despite the increasing force of his hips. You bite your bottom lip to suppress any sounds leaving your mouth. When his hands move under your cloak to rub your clit, you’re sure he wants people to find out what you’re doing as you gasp with shock and pleasure.
He rubs your clit, his cock still stuffing you whole as his movements continue. Your legs close as you can feel your orgasm suddenly approach. “I want you to cum for me okay? Make as much noise as you can” he whispers in your ear and you look back at him in shock.
“What? Are you crazy?” And you’re sure he is when he adds pressure to your clit and his hips move at an increasing speed. You can’t do anything but restlessly sit on his lap with his cock inside you as it works in and out of you.
Your thighs are still tightly shut as your orgasm approaches as quick as ever.
It’s like he times it, when you softly squeal due to the orgasm and overstimulation on your clit when ghostface comes on screen and kills one of the characters. Your moans are muffled by the loud music and the slight chatter in the room.
“Mmmh, that’s it let it out baby, good girl”
Your hand covers your mouth as the scene ends and a quieter scene approaches. You shudder, the chills running down your spine at the sensation of your orgasm and him inside of you.
“Good girl, you got it, let it out” his voice is soothing in your ears.
And in that moment you wonder who’s the real killer, the one in the film or him, because he’s really killed you tonight for sure.
#smut#bts#drabble#bts army#bts drabble#bts au fic#bts smut#jeon jungkook#jungkook#bts x reader#jungkook smut#jungkook x reader#jungkook x you#jungkook drabble#jungkook scenarios#jungkook scenario#bts jungkook#jungkook x female reader#bts x fem!reader#bts scenarios#smut drabble#fem reader#bts fic#bts jeon jungkook#ghostface#bts kinktober#kinktober
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— don’t even think about it, brat.
pairings; gf!abby anderson x reader
cw; spanking, brat tamer abby, degrading kink, thigh riding, fingering & squirting.
your girlfriend wasn’t sure why you were acting weird the whole day. she had just came home from a long day at work with endless amounts of paperwork to look over. and on top of that, her coworkers being an absolute head case. yet, she didn’t expect to deal with a bigger headache at home.
“knock it off, seriously angel..” abby sighs, rubbing her temples.
all your giggling, sarcasting comments, and poking at her for fun is driving her nuts. she usually would let you go off in her ear about anything, but today it was clear abby needed me to shut up.
“i haven’t seen you all day,” you roll your eyes trying to get a reaction from her, “too busy for me? might not even need me anymore right?
abby threw her hands in the air, “never busy for you babe, you know that.”
“always lying,” you scoffed.
the blonde knew what you were doing and didn’t have time for this.
all that eye rolling and smart mouthing of yours turned into wet sobs as abby bent you over on the cold kitchen counter, nipples hard as it hits the marble.
“not giggling anymore i see?” she grunted, “don’t understand why.. you go out of your way just for a fuck.”
it was almost comical how much abby had an effect on you. her words making you an obedient mess as you were struggling to get out from the slaps of her rough hands on your ass.
“fuck!” you whined, she smiled at your responses. very different from how you were acting earlier.
“don’t even try and enjoy this, you’re pissing me the fuck off.”
her words made your pussy drool and practically ready to ride out that cum on her thighs. unfortunately she wouldn’t let you do that. maybe.
“please.. m’ sorry abby- fuck!”
abby lets out a dry laugh, “keep saying sorry..”
“i’m sorry.. sorry.. mama please..” you pleaded repeatedly, trying to get some gentleness out of her. she pulls you by the forearm to flip you over facing her, pushing her knee against your wet folds causing you to let out a loud moan.
“oh baby.. that feel good? keep rocking your hips for me.. just like that..”
god damn.
her eyes never leaving your damn hips as it rocks back and forth on her leg muscles. her one free hand trailing up on your neck gripping it firmly but making sure she wasn’t hurting you.
you could barely even think, barely even speak.
“oh- fuck i- feels good..”
“yeah?” she grips your hair, “you wanna get off from my thighs?” you nodded slowly with glossy eyes.
“don’t even think about it, angel.”
you whimpered, “but- i’m close.”
“you think i give a fuck?” abby hisses leaning towards you, “from the way you were acting today, you don’t deserve to be pleased.”
shit. you know you messed up.
“no.. please abby..” i opened my teary eyes, so desperate to orgasm it was almost humiliating and all she did was laugh at you.
“don’t be a dumb brat, you think you were cute pushing my buttons like that? you think you could just make a mess on me that easily?” she sneered,
and all you could say was, “please.”
the blonde raises her eyebrows, “will you be good?” you nodded in response trying to hold in your orgasm.
“i won’t be a br-brat.. m’ sorry abs..”
she hummed, “beg. maybe i’ll consider.”
you scoffed in frustration and muttered, “that’s so embarrassing..”
abby peeked up at you with bored eyes and held you hips in place, not letting you move a single muscle. your response was pathetic whines and pleading eyes to cum, barely even clench your thighs because hers was in the way.
your whimpering was just too cute for her. she trails her fingers on your jaw, “the only way you can get what you want is if you fucking beg,” she says softly.
you sighed and gave in.
“y-you make me feel good abs-“ you panted, “please, please i won’t be a brat.. i’ll stop- wanna cum please..”
and just like that she lifts you off from her lap and plops you on the couch. her ring and middle fingers going in and out of you making you squirt all over her sweatpants. her dark chuckling and fingers pacing faster made you go crazy.
“shit- FUCK abby!”
“oh fuck…” abby face hanging low as she watched you release yourself on her, “needed all that attitude out of you huh baby?”
“make a fuckin’ mess.. i love it.. i love fucking the shit out of you, brat.”
the only sound filling up the room was your wet cunt and mumbles coming out of your mouth. abby was in heaven, never seeing you let out this much.
“my- god” you moaned repeatedly while scratching her back muscles.
“i know, angel.. just missed me is that it? not the same when you fuck yourself huh?” she chuckles.
abby’s eyes watches all that cum dripping down the couch. looks like someone is cleaning that up later.
#abby anderson#abby x reader#abby x y/n#abby x fem!reader#abby smut#ellabs#abby tlou#tlou smut#ellie williams#abby the last of us#the last of us#smut#ellie x you#brat taming#tlou2
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Nights with you
a/n: might not be much but I'm in love with the idea about Paige as a mom so read if you want.
You could practically feel how eager Paige was to just get back home to you and Mia. The anticipation of seeing her family again was probably the only thing keeping her going through the tough game tonight. It had been a gritty match, with Paige taking shots from every single player on the opposing team, but she’d managed to pull away with a win for her team.
You’d seen how exhausted she seemed in the post-game interview. She’d put on a brave face and smiled at the camera, but you caught the way her shoulders slumped as soon as she walked away, the weariness seeping through the cracks of her professional facade.
You could tell she was running on fumes at this point.
After the game, you wait a bit until you know she’s in the locker room. You hesitate, unsure if you should just go ahead and throw her a short text, knowing she still has some media obligations to take care of.
Paige had a routine: she liked to unwind a little before coming home, often taking a short bath to relax her muscles so that when she came home she was already ready to spend quality time with you two.
Before you could even think more about it, Paige beats you to it, sending you a short message: “I’ll try to keep it short today. Missing you guys already.”
It makes you smile immediately. You can picture her, tired but determined, pushing through the last of her duties just to get home to you and Mia as soon as possible.
However, you don’t hear from her for another two hours.
The wait feels endless, each minute dragging on as you try to keep yourself and Mia occupied. Mia babbles impatiently, her little face scrunched up in concentration as she plays with her toys. You bend down to pick her up, rocking her back and forth to soothe her restlessness.
The moment doesn’t last long. Suddenly, you hear a knock on your front door. You gasp at Mia, “Who’s that?” You let her down and smile as you hear the patter of her tiny feet on the wooden floor. She shrieks with delight, slapping her palms on the door repeatedly.
You open the door and you’re met with the most adorable sight. Paige, looking worn but radiant, lets her bags drop to the ground. She immediately squats down, arms outstretched to welcome Mia into her embrace. Mia doesn’t hesitate, throwing herself into Paige’s arms with a joyous squeal. Paige wraps her arms around her, lifting her up and holding her close with the widest grin ever.
“Hey, baby,” she whispers, her voice thick and a little raspy. “I missed you so much today.”
She backs up, and Mia immediately runs her hands all over Paige’s face, giggling uncontrollably. You walk over, and Paige reaches out to give you a soft kiss. “Missed you too, momma,” she whispers against your lips.
Before you can say more, Mia fusses, pushing your faces away to wrap her small hands around Paige’s head. Paige huffs a laugh into Mia's chest, coaxing another round of giggles from the toddler. “You’re not gonna let me give some love to mommy, Mia?” she teases. You laugh, leaning in again, only to be stopped by a tiny hand planted square on your face.
“Hey, be careful with Momma,” Paige gently scolds, taking hold of Mia’s little hand and kissing it softly. “That hurts, sweetie.”
Mia, seemingly appeased, lays her head on Paige’s shoulder. Paige visibly relaxes, squeezing her tiny body a little tighter, a contented sigh escaping her lips.
“Come in, it’s cold,” you say, pulling her inside and grabbing her bags. “There’s food on the stove if you haven’t already eaten, and the room’s already cool just in case you want to—” The words trail off as you turn around to find Paige’s face just inches from your own.
“Thank you, baby,” she murmurs, kissing the side of your mouth, then your cheek, and finally your lips. “You wanna eat with us, Mia?” she coos, running her fingers through Mia’s hair.
Mia hums into Paige’s neck, tightening her hold. Paige looks over at you.
“She’s a bit tired,” you note. You run your hand up and down Mia’s back, placing a soft kiss on her tiny shoulder as she nuzzles deeper into Paige’s neck. “Waiting for mommy tired her out a bit.”
“Should I put her to sleep?” Paige asks, gently rubbing Mia’s back.
“No, mommy…” Mia grumbles, sitting up a bit. Paige leans back to get a good look at her face and smiles as she sees Mia struggling to keep her eyes open. Mia rubs her eyes, and Paige tenderly pushes her head back down onto her shoulder.
“Let’s get you to bed, baby,” Paige whispers. She starts walking towards Mia’s room, gently swaying to soothe her. You follow, feeling the love radiating from the simple act of putting your daughter to bed. Paige lays Mia down gently, tucking her in with care.
As Mia finally drifts off, Paige stands up and takes your hand, leading you out of the room. She closes the door quietly, turning to you with a tired but contented smile. “Let’s eat,” she says softly, wrapping an arm around your waist as you head to the kitchen.
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Tattoo artist Connie and ony??? This is y/n first tattoo and they’re real nervous so con and ony gotta help them relax 🤭
might end up tattooing their name on that pus- nvm…
i love love love thisssss😩
first ink
cw: needles, smuttt
word count: 2.4k
never in your life did you plan on getting a tattoo. it was too scary and you absolutely hated needles. if your mom didn’t get it done when you were a baby, you doubt you would’ve even had your ears pierced. you were getting older though, and the sight of the pretty art of your friend’s bodies swayed your judgement. you became very infatuated with them, always running your fingers along them when they were with you.
“girl just go get one. tired of you caressing my stomach like i’m pregnant or sum” sasha sighed, rolling her eyes as you laughed. “sorryyyy. it’s just so pretty” your friend put her hand on top of yours, squeezing it as she looked deep into your eyes. “i love you so ima touch your hand as i say this. you need to stop being pussy and get some ink. you look like a child.” you rolled your eyes, yanking your hand from under hers as she laughed at you. that was your last straw. you told her that day that you will finally get a tattoo, making her jump for joy as she called up two of the best artists she knew.
as the two of you walked in the shop your eyes instantly met the light brown orbs of a tall man. “buenos tardes ladies. what can i do f’yo-…oh hey sash” the man came across the counter he was standing at, giving sasha a side hug before outreaching his hand towards you. “hola mami, my name’s connie. you must be y/n” he gave you a kind smile, his gold grills shining in the light before he gave you a light peck on your hand. “boy move she here for some ink, not a pregnancy scare” connie rolled his eyes, lifting his hands in surrender before walking deeper into the shop. thats when another man came out from the curtain in the back.
“wasgood sash” the man said as he walked towards his booth before sitting in the spacious chair. “this her?” he mumbled. sasha pushed you up towards them. you haven’t said a word since you got here. too in awe at the beauty of these too men. “don’t talk much do she?” connie chuckled as him and ony continued to look you over. sasha knew how you got when you met new people so she didn’t try to push you to speak. instead she wrapped her arm around you while she did the talking. “this my girl right here. she never got any shit done before other than the piercings in her ears and that was when she was a baby so i need y’all t’be real delicate with her ‘kay?”
ony and connie shared a look, eyes widening as they realized that sasha was telling the truth. there wasn’t a single thing on your body other than your small stud earrings in your ears. “yea we gotchu. come sit while i set up.” ony said, getting up from the chair to let you sit down. the sound of sasha’s phone ringing brought your attention to her. “what….girl call your mother….ughhh why i gotta do it?…whatever whatever bye” you gave her a confused look as she carried an annoyed look her her face. “i gotta get my cousin from summer school, her bad ass. i’ll be back right after i take her home ‘kay?” you gave her a wide eyed look, her cousin lived almost an hour and a half from where you were. your fear was clearly showing on your face. you couldn’t get a tattoo alone.
as if reading your mind sasha gave you a tight hug whispering in your ear. “girl i’ll be right backkkk. don’t be scared. jus breathe and focus on something else, you’ll be fine” with that she gave the two men behind you stern looks, pointing her acrylic finger at them as she spoke. “behave yourselves. it’s her first time” ony and connie both gave her quick nods before she went out the door. as ony set up his stuff you slowly sat down in the chair waiting for him. “so it’s your first time huh ma?” he said, noticing your nervousness as he looked up at your pretty face. “mhm”. your response made him chuckle as he got up from his seat next to you. “what you gettin and where you want it”
you showed him your desired tattoo, making his eyes widen as he looked at the photo. “you sure?” sasha told you that this was an easy spot so you listened to her, nodding your head quickly as a reply. ony gave you a small smile before turning towards connie, who was in one of the other chairs scrolling on his phone. “baby turn some music on. it’s quiet at hell in here”.
baby? you turned your head towards ony’s face, your quizzical look making him chuckle. “sasha ain’t tell you?” you shook your head. “of course she didn’t” before ony could speak again, the sound of psa by kay flock started to play. making ony and connie rap along to the lyrics as they continued on with what they were doing. “so what you getting mami? a butterfly?” connie asked, inked hand rubbing on his boyfriends durag covered head. “she getting a thigh tat, cute lil sun” connie nodded his head as he listened, looking at your legging covered thighs. “well y’know you gotta lose those right?” he said, pointing to the fabric. you had totally forgot, eyes widening as you internally sighed. today was not your day.
“i mean…we don’t mind, could close up the blinds and lock the doors so it can seem like we closed right now. since sasha won’t be back for awhile and ion want you just sitting here waiting f’her” you thought about his words. they seemed like nice, respectful guys. and if sasha trusts them then you knew they wouldn’t do you wrong. “okay” your soft voice made the both of their heads turn to you, making you shy away and put your gaze on your lap. “so she does speak” they both say.
~about an hour later~
“listen mama, if you don’t calm down i can’t get started. i can’t tattoo you while you shaking like this” ony said softly as he watched you twitch away from the needle for the fifth time. you had no problem taking your pants off and letting them put the stencil on you, but as soon as you heard the machine start you couldn’t get it together. “he’s right mami, y’gotta relax for us ‘kay. we not gon hurt you”
you were trying, you really were, but your body just wouldn’t relax. and you weren’t helping them either, ony was ready to pass out from the sight of your ass making your thong practically disappear. and connie was trying his hardest to make his hard on as least noticeable as possible at the sight of your teary eyes staring up at him. your pretty hands gripping his tightly as you tried your best to be calm.
“what we gotta do t’help you relax huh? you want a snack?” connie asked, smiling softly at you as you nodded your head eagerly. ony got up from his seat behind you, walking towards the back to grab you some fruit snacks. “sit up and eat em. ion want you choking or nun” he said as he passed you the packet and walked back behind the curtains. you sat up on your knees as you tried your best to open it, but your hands were too sweaty from how nervous you were. connie saw you struggling so he helped, looking down at your pretty eyes as he slowly opened it. you didn’t even notice, too focused on his pretty light brown eyes as he slowly took a fruit snack from the packet.
on instinct you opened your mouth, not knowing what came over you as you slowly sucked on his finger after he put the small miniature orange in your mouth. “you want sum else t’help you relax mami?” you couldn’t help but nod your head yes. these men were fine, and you were desperate to relax. “pa c’mere! she said she need our help to relax” ony made his was to his boyfriends side, smirking down at you as he realized what he meant. “oh we can help you with that real good”
before you knew it you were laid back in the chair, this time with your back on the end of it as connie eagerly ate your pussy on one side, and ony fed you his long dick in your mouth on the other. “that’s right ma, keep suckin it jus like that. don’t you feel better? no more shakin and cryin” ony’s words went straight to your core, making your arousal increase as you began to leak onto connie’s face. “taste so good mama, you like when he talks t’you like that huh? talks to me like that too at home. y’wanna come home wit us baby?” you instantly replied with a “mhm”. the vibrations of your voice sending ony over the edge as he shot his thick ropes down your throat.
“shittt you suck me so well mama. you gon let connie make you feel good, gon let him fuck you?” as he spoke connie began lining himself up with your entrance, rubbing his inked hands all over your stomach as he waited for you to reply. “y-yes” you said in a small voice, turning the both of them on more as connie slowly sunk into you. the stinging stretch of his dick making you whine as you tightly gripped ony’s arm. “we know mama, s’okay we here” ony coo’d at you, helping you relax as he gave connie the signal to speed up. before then he was pounding you into the chair, long light brown dick pulling loud moans and cries from you as ony stood behind him, whispering dirty words in his ear as he’d occasionally kiss up and down his boyfriends neck. his eyes never left yours as he did this, controlling the tempo of connie’s thrusts without having to lift a finger.
“there you go pretty boy. makin her feel so good” connie’s eyes were closed as he focused on the words of the man behind him. “i wanna cum in her” he whined as ony gave you a small smirk. he knew the sight of them was driving you crazy so to pleasure you further he slowly gripped connie’s neck, turning his head towards his to give him a sloppy kiss. your pussy clenched at the sight, making connie whimper into ony’s mouth as he picked up the pace of his thrusts. “m’finna cum, you want papi t’cum in you mami?” his deep voice rang in your ears, pushing your release closer as you moaned out at loud “yes”
with that connie spilled his seed deep into you, his thrusts halting to a stop as he made sure to keep you full of him. you watched ony whisper something in his here, making connie slowly pull out of you before ony took his place. “gonna make me feel good too now, that okay baby?” you quickly nodded your head yes, but he wanted more. ony teased you, rubbing his tip all over your wet clit to make you whine. “let daddy hear that pretty voice. want y’to talk me through it like i did connie” connie helped you up as ony spoke, kissing your neck as his boyfriend waited patiently in between your legs. “listen t’him mami. or he won’t give you what you want” your brain was clouded with pure lust right now as you finally replied to the man in front of you. “want you t-to fuck me”
“that’s a good girl”
~a couple hours later~
“alright all done pretty girl” ony chirped as he began to wipe the last bit of ink off your freshly done tattoo. “she’s still asleep” connie chuckled out as he sat in the chair with your pantsless body on his chest. as soon as they finished fucking you, you fell asleep so they woke you up to ask you if you still wanted the tattoo and you said yes, and who were they to deny a pretty thing like you especially after you were so good for them.
as you stirred awake you noticed you were still in the chair, a warm blanket draped over your body. you went to get up, but were stopped by a little stinging pain in your leg. “she’s up pa” connie said as he watched you from one of the couches in the waiting area, a bag of chips in his hand as he watched his show. “heyy pretty girl, we ain’t wanna wake you so we just put the blanket on t'keep you from getting cold. want some water?” you eagerly nodded your head yes as you reached for the water bottle in ony’s hand. before you got to grab it he pulled it back towards him. “lemme hear that pretty voice baby” a shy smile planted onto your face as you looked up at him. “can i have some?” a smile spread to ony’s face as well, his big inked hand transferring the bottle into your much smaller one. “good girl”
as you drank the water, connie made his way towards the two of you, a small smirk on his lips as he looked down at you next to ony. “you not gon look at your new ink?” he said. you had honestly forgot, but excitement bloomed in your stomach as you slowly moved the blanket from your thigh. there sat the beautiful sun you asked for, prettily wrapped up along with something else you didn’t see in the picture. there sat an infinity symbol in the middle of the sun with two letters in the spaces. an o and a c.
“you said you wanted t’come home wit us right? if you gon be ours you gotta rep us.” connie said before him and ony pulled up their shirts, the same infinity symbol showing on their sides with each others initials and yours in the spaces. your mouth dropped to the floor at the sight of the pretty tattoos, stomach doing flips in excitement as you realized what you had gotten yourself into.
“you ours now mama”
#aot x black reader#onyankopon x black reader#onyankopon x reader#aot onyankopon#onyankopon x black!reader#aot smut#aot connie#connie springer x black reader#connie x black!reader#connie x black reader#connie smut#connie springer x black!reader#connie springer x black y/n#connie springer smut#onyankopon smut#aot onyankopon x black!reader#aot onyankopon x black reader
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