#at least let me drag and drop them!!

[holocene-sims]

fáilte abhaile 🚜

[littlegalerion]

*sees Sotha Sil is trending*

*sees he is confirmed to make an appearance in the next Chapter*

Yeah, still not buying until like 3 months after, if even then. Still haven't bought the previous DLC.

"We're listening to the community 🩷"

THEN WHERE ARE DARIEN AND ABNUR, ZENIMAX?!

[joelsgoldrush]

“crawl home to her” | 7.5k

old man!logan x f!reader

SUMMARY: Will he be able to control himself once he's near you? In this moment, he feels more animal than human. Creeping, on the verge of crawling, back to you. OR Like a sinner seeking absolution, he finds his way back to you after every absence, as if you're the only salvation he's ever known.

WARNINGS/TAGS: mdni smut 18+ cursing. drinking. dirty talk. some fluff. comfort. feelings. self-deprecation. miscommunication. sort of established relationship. age gap (reader's in her late 20s). petnames. religious imagery. logan's POV. chauffeur!logan. dom!logan. reader wears logan's dog tags and clothes. pussy pronouns. phone sex. oral sex (f and m receiving). 69. fingering. masturbation (he jerks off in the limo). one (1) single spank. sort of rough sex. unprotected p in v. creampie.

A/N: i wrote this as a part 2 of this story, but still, it can be read as a standalone (i'd recommend that you also read the first part as well 👀 you'll understand their relationship better). hope you like this one! <3

Logan is tired. Bone-deep, soul-crushingly tired.

He takes a slow, deliberate drag from his cigar, letting the smoke curl inside his chest, teasing his lungs. Doesn’t even bother to crack the window open—why would he?—before exhaling, the haze lingering inside the limo like a fog.

One quick glance at his phone screen just to make sure his vision isn’t screwing him over—no older notifications. A pang of disillusionment settles in his being.

Not only is he fighting to keep his eyes open, exhausted from driving the same family around for the past few days while they enjoy their quality time, but he’s also bored out of his mind. 

Where the hell are you?

He adjusts his glasses, pushing them higher up on the bridge of his nose, preventing them from sliding down to his lap. When his phone buzzes, he jolts, nearly hitting his head on the roof of the limo due to his excitement.

His poor heart gallops as he fumbles with the screen, unlocking it with the same urgency as a man starved for contact.

But it’s not you. It’s one of his passengers.

We’re getting out in half an hour, the message reads. By we, she means herself, her husband, and their two kids.

Logan can’t bring himself to type an actual reply, so he leaves her on read. She knows he’s not going anywhere, parked outside the arcade as if he’s rooted in place with no way out.

Family after family enters that hell on earth, kids of all ages bouncing on their heels, voices shrill with enthusiasm. He watches, half-heartedly, as parents get dragged by their little ones, who negotiate how much money they are allowed to spend tonight.

He almost feels bad for those parents. Almost. He hopes that at least they know how to say ‘No’.

All in all, he’s got another thirty minutes of solitude ahead. The radio has long since ceased to entertain him. He’s been parked here for two hours, and his mind is starting to drift. He could stretch his legs, walk around, or maybe grab a drink—but damn it.

He wants to talk to you.

You’d said he could call you after dropping the family off. That was three hours ago. The last message he received from you was still stuck in his head, replaying over and over like a lifeline. Logan knows you must be busy, probably taking care of Charles and—

Okay, he’ll get back to that later. 

You: Just got out of the shower. Call me in five?

Right now, he could die a happy man. Were he a dog, his tail would be wagging furiously, anticipation already building for the simple joy of hearing you.

Logan: Got it.

The next five minutes feel like an eternity. He finishes his cigar, flicking the stub beneath the seat without giving it a second thought. For now, he doesn’t care about being a messy fucker. He’ll deal with the mess some other time.

Priorities.

A quick spritz of some cheap air freshener he picked up from a gas station fills the car, masking the distinctive scent of smoke. God forbid the kids start whining about how ‘weird’ it smells in the limo.

With a grimace, he sprays a little more—floral, of all scents? It feels insulting.

How kind of him to still be this considerate.

His thumb hovers over your contact, and he presses the call button with an agility he hasn’t had in years (thanks to you).

One, two, three rings, and then—

“Logan,” you say softly, your voice a little breathless, like you’ve been hurrying all over the place.

He stops grinding his jaw, the tension in his shoulders easing. He unclenches his fists, fingers uncurling one by one, as if letting go of some invisible burden.

Outside the vehicle, people stop dying, babies stop being born, and the world itself pauses just for him to listen to you.

You can’t see him, but he smiles either way. “Hey, baby.”

“Gosh, I’m so sorry. I lost track of time talking to Charles. We had dinner, and then I just—I felt so gross, you know? From cooking and all that. Took a shower, and it got pretty late.”

You end with a sigh, and he imagines you rubbing a hand over your face. “Please tell me you weren’t sleeping when I texted you.”

“Not even close. Still waiting for them.”

“They’re really taking their time, huh?”

“You wouldn’t believe it,” he murmurs, his fingers drumming a soft rhythm on the steering wheel. “How was your day?”

“Great! I’m already in bed.”

“My bed.”

You laugh, that sweet sound making his heart stutter. “Well, yeah. Where else do you want me to sleep if I’m at your place? On the floor?”

If someone had told Logan a year ago that he’d let someone live in his space, let alone take care of Charles, he’d have scoffed. "Pathetic," he’d have said, rolling his eyes with that familiar growl in his throat. Pretty sure he’d also puffed his chest while saying so.

Because Logan Howlett wasn’t one for accepting help. He’s been on his own since the earth was still cooling down.

But for you? He made exceptions. Plenty of them. And if it weren’t for your altruism, he wouldn’t have accepted this job—a job that pays well enough to cover Charles’ meds and put food on the table. He needs this rich family’s money.

“You’ve got a girlfriend now?” Charles had asked, when Logan explained he’d be staying with you while he went away for a few days.

“Big word you’re using there,” Logan had replied, placing two pills into Charles’ palm. The old man gave him a death stare. “Don’t play dumb. It’s not like you don’t know the drill.”

Mumbling something incoherent before swallowing the pills, Charles had taken slow sips of water between each one, sinking back into the mattress with a weary sigh. “If she’s not your girlfriend, then what is she?”

“A friend.”

“That’s nice. Is that what they’re calling it now?”

He shakes that memory away, forcing his mind back to the call. “Try not to be so kind to him. What if he falls in love with you?” he inquires, a mocking tone weaving through his words. 

And that’s when you drop the bombshell. “You mean like you did?” 

You laugh, but Logan… doesn’t. He can’t do it. He makes sure he’s breathing on command: in and out, in and out, in and out. 

The mention of love unsettles him. He doesn’t feel safe anymore, doesn’t know what game you’re playing. Where’s the rulebook?

Is he—could he be—falling in love with you? Is that what you’re implying? And if so, do you feel the same?

In the long run, you mumble: “It was a joke.” Only then do his lungs fill with fresh air, untainted by the weight of his unease. But he can’t let it pass, the fact you sound disappointed. Defeated.

He promised himself he’d never hurt you. Though he doesn’t intend to, it feels as if he’s just stabbed you in the back, twisting the knife further into your frame—unwillingly.

“Remember the—” he pauses a moment, throwing his head back in frustration, silently cursing himself. “The pills. You’ve been giving them to him, right?”

“Yes, Logan.”

“Please, remember it’s only—”

“Logan,” you try again, cutting through the wave of his spiraling thoughts. He can picture you behind closed lids, looking at him through your lashes, your hand resting gently on his chest. “I have it under control, okay? He’s doing alright. I swear I’m taking good care of him.”

“I don’t doubt that, honey.” Casting a glance at the rearview mirror, he feels an unexpected sense of longing for your presence there, like a ghost haunting his every move, confined to the limits of his brain. “Can’t help but worry. That’s all.”

A soft hum reverberates through the line. He hears the rustle of sheets, the sound of you tossing around in his bed, and his pulse quickens at the thought.

“You said you’re sleepin’ on my bed.”

“Good memory you have.”

“You wearin’ my clothes as well?”

 Thick silence, the kind he relishes.

“Yeah,” you finally reply, shifting the phone from side to side. You take a deep breath, and add: “I forgot to bring mine.”

He hates how you easily find a way to get him riled up despite being miles away. It must be the power of words.

“I don’t believe you.” He knows he shouldn’t, hates himself for doing it, but one of his hands palms the half-hard bulge in his black slacks, suppressing a low groan. “Think you did it on purpose.”

A rush of heat, sharp and urgent, washes over him. Is he really about to do this? Get himself off in the very car he uses for work? Twisted, incredibly sick of him, he thinks.

Still, he craves more. “Tell me what you’re wearing.”

You laugh at his demanding tone, fanning the flames of his desperation. “When did you turn into a horny teenager?”

“Always been, baby,” Logan purrs, undoing the button of his pants, followed by the fly. His eyes flick upwards for just a moment—no cars, no one in sight. He’s presumably alone. It’s all the confirmation he needs to say: “C’mon. Tell your old man what clothes you stole from him.”

He’s never done this before—phone sex. He’s heard about it, sure, but never imagined he’d fall so hard for the idea. The thrill of it sinks into him, electrifying.

What are you doing? Is your lip caught between your teeth? Do your eyes wander down your own body? Maybe your fingers are already skimming over your skin.

“It’s just a random shirt,” you murmur. “Plain, white.”

“What else?”

“There’s nothing else.”

Logan’s breath hitches as his hand moves to his cock, spotting the damp patch on his briefs where the tip has already started to leak. The moment he slides the elastic down past his balls, he fists his shaft in a slow stroke, going from the base to the head. “No panties? And you expect me t’believe this wasn’t planned?”

Your muffled whimper is like molten lava spilling into his ear, bringing him to full hardness. More shuffling follows on your end, driving him wild with the anticipation. “Why do you do this to me if you’re not here?”

“‘Cause I want you touchin’ yourself just like I’m doin’.” He thumbs the head, hips jerking involuntarily at the sensation. He aches to feel your mouth there instead. “Bet that pussy’s been cryin’ out for me, huh? Must’ve got used to me fillin’ her every other night.”

Your breathing grows more uneven, small gasps filtering through the speaker. “I need you here with me. This is—ugh—not enough.”

“What’s not enough, sweetheart?”

There’s a pause as the sound of your phone shifts again, and then he hears it clearly—the wet, needy sound of your fingers working between your legs, filling the silence with the loud squelching of your cunt. “My fingers,” you blurt out, more distant than before, like you’re merging with the bed, dissolving with every touch.

Logan spits roughly into his palm, the slickness of his saliva easing the drag of his calloused hand along his length, good enough to make the movement more satisfying.

He moans aloud, eyes shut tight, your name slipping from his lips, a whispered prayer, as if saying it could somehow summon you to his side. “I spoil you too much,” he rasps, wedging his phone between his ear and shoulder, using every resource available to him, anything to feel something real. “Seems like you’ve forgotten how to make yourself come.”

Your moans follow his, the breathy sounds a clear sign of how close you are, hanging on the edge, your release just a heartbeat away. But it’s not enough, and you need him. He wonders if you can feel his thoughts from miles away, because— “Want your cock so bad, Lo. I m-miss you.”

He has to stop jerking himself to hold off his orgasm, stomping his foot against the pedals. “Fuck, darlin’. You keep sayin’ those things and I swear I’ll be back with you by morning.”

His sole focus now is you—getting you to come. Driven by his growing frenzy, it’s the only coherent thought that claws through the haze in his mind. “Keep talking, please,” you plead, fingers still lost in the heat of your body. “Tell me what you’ll do to me when you see me.”

Logan picks up the rhythm again, his movements faltering as his chest heaves, ragged breaths spilling out while his hand works faster. “Gonna fuck you slow and deep, just how you like it. Face to face, so you can kiss me as much as you want, ‘cause I know my girl loves that, am I right?”

My girl. He’ll regret that one the second the high fades and clarity sets in.

Word after word falls from his lips without thought, uncontrollable, as though he’s surrendered to the storm of desire raging in his being—a storm in which your name is the eye of it all.

You are everywhere, and you take up all the empty spaces he thought were impossible to fill, sinking into the depths of his unconsciousness.

Not a single part of him is left untouched by you, by the power of your presence in his life, consuming him in ways he never imagined.

Your airy mewls ripple through the line, feeding his ravenousness, adding to the tightening knot of pleasure coiling low in his abdomen. His muscles strain, thighs tensing. Each stroke of his hand prolongs this sweet torture. 

“Come for me, princess. You’d make me so h-happy if you came right now.”

And you do, because it’s not just his touch anymore—it’s his voice, and the way he commands you without force. How you’ve become accustomed to him, nodding along to each instruction he mutters.

Beneath your fingers, your swollen clit pulses, and though he can’t see it, he imagines it perfectly, having spent enough time worshiping it.

He knows, even from a distance, what your body must be doing. Your back arching off the bed, thighs quivering and clenching tight around your own hand. Those perfect legs of yours trembling as you reach your so-desired climax.

Loud and unrestrained, you moan, and for a moment, he wants to be with you so badly that he ponders if the theory of traveling across time and space sounds that far-fetched after all.

Logan doesn't need much after that for the thread to snap at long last, his groans dying on his lips as he stares in awe at the spurts of his seed landing wherever his eyes fall: a bit on the top of his pants, on his hand, his briefs. His cock twitches in his grip as he continues stroking himself through the aftershocks, gulping when it becomes too much to handle.

So phone sex is off the list now. Great.

“Miss you, too,” he mumbles once he’s caught his breath, tossing his glasses onto the passenger seat. His forehead feels damp to the touch, and he contemplates when was the last time he came this hard.

The elephant in the room hasn’t been addressed yet. He knows you expect him to say more, something deeper and rawer, but that’s all he can force himself to spit out.

Sometimes, he forgets that you can’t read him all the time. Although you know him better than anyone else, there are certain thoughts and memories locked tightly inside him, things you'd never discover on your own. Secrets he admits he should share with you, but he’s at a loss for how. Words aren’t doable when he needs them the most.

Maybe it's a matter of age—you’re a natural at voicing your feelings.

At some point, you ask: “When did you say you were returning?”

One thing’s clear: he can’t afford to lose you. He’d be an idiot if he let that happen.

“In five days, I think.” Were he with you, he'd hold you in his arms, kissing your lips. God, how he misses kissing you. All of you. “I’ll keep you updated.”

“It’s okay,” you respond, and in his mind, a blank canvas fills with the familiar image of you lying on your side, curling into a ball the way you always do. “I should go to sleep. Talk to you tomorrow.”

“Sure.” Thank you for everything. “Get some rest.” Are you still in love with me? “Bye.” I’m coming back. You know how I feel about you, do you?

So much left unsaid, words he lacks the strength to speak. That, along with his come-stained clothes. And, of course, the limousine now perfumed like a flower shop.

Exhaustion clings to him again.

His luck has never been this good.

The next afternoon, one of the couple’s kids falls ill. Must be something he ate, the woman tells Logan, her voice light, though he can hear the shuffle of urgency behind her words.

Her husband packs their bags in the background, the muted thuds of luggage hitting the floor. You know how children are. Their hands are always filthy!

What she doesn’t realize is that Logan, in fact, doesn’t know how children are, because how could he?

He’s holed up in the hotel across the street, his only responsibility being to wait on their call, ready to drive whenever they needed him. Needless to say, his accommodations are nothing like theirs. Not that he minds it—he’s not one for luxury, has never needed it.

Truth be told, he’s no stranger to beds that groan if you shift slightly, clogged toilets that spit back water like they’re alive.

Joy rushes through him when he hears the news. He’s coming back earlier than expected, a thrill building in his chest. Twelve days he’s been away, his greed growing with each second in that desolate hotel room.

Now, the beating of his heart quickens, a faint thrumming as he stares out the window. He debates whether to let you know about his early return or keep it as a surprise. Would it be better if he just showed up?

How would you feel, knowing that, by the time the lights are out, he’ll be yours again?

He knows he should feel sorry for the poor kid, but all he can muster is a look of concern that barely reaches his eyes. Each time they pull into a gas station, he listens to the hurried slap of footsteps as the boy rushes for the bathroom to empty his insides.

He watches in the rearview as the kid’s father shakes his head, clicking his tongue with disapproval. “Do you have kids?” he asks, his voice forced into a casual tone, like he’s trying to break the silence that’s settled between them. 

Logan’s only response is to turn up the radio, some pop song he’s never heard spilling from the speakers. The lyrics are a blur of nonsense to him, but it’s enough to drown out the man’s words and the boy’s misery.

Some things never change.

As the sun dips below the horizon, he’s finally free, no longer at anyone’s beck and call. He contemplates the possibility of getting a speeding ticket, weighing his options. It hardly matters. The pull to see you, to feel you, is stronger than anything else.

Even though he tries to think of another time in his life when he felt such a raw need, no memory comes close.

When he does pull up to his place, he does it quietly. Parking the limo, he doesn’t honk, doesn’t announce himself. Fumbling with the keys ever so lightly so as not to wake you up, fitting them into the lock.

His wrist twists, and the door gives way with a soft creak.

Anxiety ripples through him as he steps inside. The smell of freshly cooked food hits him, but it only tightens the knot in his stomach, reminding him of how long it’s been since he last ate.

Later, he tells himself. After. Once he’s sated his true hunger—the kind of hunger that can only be satisfied by sinking his fingers into something real, fleshy, malleable. 

Hunger—yes, it’s animalistic, feral even. Will he be able to control himself once he’s near you? In moments like this, he feels more animal than human. Creeping, on the verge of crawling, back to you.

His feet take him to his bedroom, knowing the path to it very well. Fingers hovering over the knob, he takes a deep breath.

It’s already late, past midnight, yet energy courses through his veins as though he’s just woken from a long, ethereal dream.

He finds you asleep, your body wrapped snugly in the sheets, clutching a pillow close to your chest. Your cheek is pressed into it, breathing soft and steady, lulling him in. Kneeling on the edge of the bed, he kicks off his shoes, then slips in beside you, mirroring your position. 

A lamp sits on his nightstand, one that isn’t his, and he figures you must have brought it from your apartment. There has to be a symbolism for that.

It’s incredible how his entire world can fit into such a narrow bed.

The smart thing would be to let you sleep, to simply watch you for a moment longer. But he can’t help himself.

His thumb lingers near your face before gently cupping your cheek, and the very first contact with your skin sends a shudder through him, the warmth of your skin grounding him. He trails his fingers down to your chin, holding it with just enough pressure to remind himself that he’s here.

Leaning in, he presses his lips softly against your forehead, your typical perfume wrapping around him like a welcome.

Welcome home, Logan.

For the first time, he feels that someone’s been counting down the minutes until his return. He’d always believed a person like him didn’t deserve this. That he just wasn’t built for it.

Countless years had he spent convincing himself he’d never be the kind of man who could inspire love. His life had already been written long ago—predetermined by some cruel hand in the sky.

Destiny, fate, call it what you want—once the cards are laid out, there’s no escaping them. Or so he used to think.

You had taken that pen into your own hands, rewriting his future. You, of all people, had changed his life. No matter what the future held for the two of you, he’d always be grateful. Grateful that you’d seen the dim spark in him that others had chosen to ignore.

Thoughtlessly, his fingers continue their gentle strokes along your cheek, your hair. You stir beside him, shifting in your sleep. Your eyes flutter open, close again, and then open once more, blinking in confusion.

“Logan?” you croak, voice still groggy and thick with sleep, coming to your senses. Before he can respond, you throw yourself on top of him, smothering his face with kisses. “Why—how—”

“Sweetheart,” he says, attempting to hide his grin, but failing when your kisses shift to his neck, your nose nuzzling against his skin. A laugh slips out, warmth flooding his chest.

“You didn’t tell me you were coming home early!”

Home. Had he heard right? Had you used that word knowingly?

Peering into your eyes, he catches his reflection in your pupils, tiredness etched into his features. “Wanted it to be a surprise.”

“You could’ve told me,” you reply, fingers threading through his greying locks, massaging his scalp. You place a tender kiss on the tip of his nose. “I would’ve waited up for you at least.”

“Well, I’m here now,” he whispers back, gaze drifting to your lips, and you close the space between you, his sigh mingling with yours as one hand cradles the small of your back, fisting the fabric of his shirt. His other hand tilts your head, inviting your tongues to greet each other in an unhurried dance.

You move languidly on top of him, and he notices, breaking the kiss and pulling back. “You’re gonna fall asleep on me, are you?”

The way your lashes flutter in response should be illegal. “I could use a human-size pillow.”

“I should shower first.”

“No.”

“Baby, I smell like gas.”

“So?”

A smirk tugs at his lips at your insistence, and he gently lays you back against the mattress. Drawn to your charm once again, he licks into your mouth, mentally scolding himself when he gets carried away, letting the kiss linger longer than intended.

“I’ll be quick,” he promises, pulling the sheets over your body. Resigned, you simply nod, settling on your side.

Ten minutes later, you’re dozing off, teetering on the edge of unconsciousness when he slips into bed, wrapping himself around you from behind. One arm drapes over your waist, the other cushions your head, and there’s not a patch of skin between you left untouched.

Fatigue begins to delve deeper into his bones the longer he stays curled around you, but before the weight of sleep takes him, and the silence steals his chance, he huffs: “I missed you.” His beard grazes your skin in a soft, unintentional caress.

You pull his wrist to your lips, pressing a short-lived kiss to the inside of it. “Missed you, too.”

How the roles have reversed.

In the quietness of this starless night, you leave him no other choice but to believe you.

3:34 a.m. Still hostage to the lack of light outside. The world remains submerged in the gentle tides of sleep, undulating between dreams, except for him.

Logan wakes up at 3:34 a.m. because he’s rock hard, and being flushed against your back wasn’t helping him with his situation at all. If anything, it only heightened it.

He sits at the edge of the bed, his mind running in circles, debating whether he should jump to his feet and head to the bathroom for another shower—this time, a cold one. Returning to sleep, at least in this moment, is not a viable option.

His gaze drifts to the moonlight spilling through the window, casting its pale glow across the room. Is this your doing? The question lingers, unshakable, in his thoughts. It remains as just that: a question.

When you quietly rest your chin on his shoulder, he stifles a sigh, biting the inside of his cheek. Your voice breaks through the quiet.

“What’s wrong? Can’t sleep?” Wrapping your arms around him from behind, you circle his frame, in an effort to persuade him to sink back into the mattress.

“It’s nothing,” he says, pulse accelerating. Please, don’t look down. “I’ll be back in a second.”

“But what is—”

He doesn’t get to hear the rest of your sentence. You do look down, finding the outline of his hardened cock straining against his briefs, stealing your full attention.

“Wow.”

“Go back to sleep.”

“And leave you like this?” One hand creeps toward his waistband, your breath warm against his ear. “Wouldn’t miss this for anything in the world.”

Your nails trace a path through the coarse hair at his navel, and Logan tenses. His legs feel like jelly as you cup his balls, fondling them gently between your fingers.

Behind him, your low chuckle stirs something primal in him, making his blood thrum hot beneath his skin. He should be the one doing this to you, not the other way around.

“Darlin’, I don’t—” He’s cut off by his own guttural groan when you fist his length, pumping him in rhythm with his uneven breaths. “I don’t need this.”

“Seems like you do,” you whisper, momentarily halting your ministrations to place your palm in front of his face, hoping he takes the hint. You kiss his stubble, pausing just short of his mouth. “I want to take care of you. Always do.”

Your palm hovers before him, inviting. Grabbing your wrist, he licks it, coating it in his spit and guiding you back down to him. Together, your hands glide along his length, and his gaze locks onto yours, the intensity of it making his neck tense.

You beam with delight under his stare. That red organ caged within his ribs—a blood-pumping machine of passion—surges back to life as he sees you.

He had won the battle. He had triumphed over his past; had lived enough lives, endured enough years, to arrive at this moment.

This had to be the purpose of his existence: to share this part of his stay on earth with you.

“You’re so hard,” you say, twisting your wrist at the tip of his cock, reveling in every buck of his hips, each movement a reflection of his exaltation. “Guess you did miss me.”

With a quiet growl, he reaches behind, nudging your thighs apart until they find your mound, cupping you through your underwear. “I’m not the only one who’s been missin’ someone.” He pulls the fabric aside, sliding his fingers through your wet folds. His nostrils flare as he feels how ready you are. “Why am I not surprised?”

Your breath hitches, and you press yourself closer against him, your tits against his back, mouth teasing at his neck. “That’s what happens when you’re gone.” Another kiss on his nape. “You could take me with you next time.”

“Can’t do that,” he answers, teasing your entrance. “No work would get done.”

His movements cease to a stop. Yours do too. Turning his head just enough to glance over his shoulder, he scrutinizes your expression, pride swelling in his chest as he takes in your affected state.

“You’re not goin’ back to sleep, are you?”

There’s the shake of your head. A single word escapes your lips, imbued with pure fervor: “Please.”

He captures your mouth in an ardent kiss, tugging at your shirt (which is, in fact, his) to undress you, his wandering hands roaming beneath it.

As his mouth meets your neck, something cold brushes against his lips, drawing his gaze down to what’s hanging from your neck.

His dog tags. The ones he had given you before leaving for that job, as his way of telling you I’m coming back without having to say it aloud. And you, as always, understood; had even promised to keep them safe, though he hadn’t expected you to actually wear them.

Now, with your shirt discarded, they lay against your bare skin, his name resting in the valley between your breasts.

“You like ‘em?” His fingers grip the chain and give it a gentle tug, drawing you closer so he can breathe over your lips, his breath mingling with yours. “Like knowing you’re mine? You get off on it?”

You nod in agreement. Of course, you do. Though emotionally constipated and not the most expressive, Logan is a lover who knows how to awaken desire—a good lover, indeed. A decent one.

Which is why he agrees to any idea that crosses your mind, like the one you just whispered in his ear.

He may be older than you, but he’s always been more on the traditional side. You, on the other hand, are continually searching for new ways to innovate.

The round globes of your ass jiggle over his face as he spreads you apart, entrenched by how your skin moves above him, your glistening hole clenching around nothing, as if your body itself is calling to him.

With his head propped against the headboard, he watches you take him deeper, your saliva dripping down the wiry hairs of his cock. The slick heat of your tongue traces over his slit, back and forth, driving him to the edge.

When he hears you gag, it stirs something inside him—a deep need to return the favor, to match your devotion.

At the end of the day, he’s a man on a mission, and right now, that mission is you.

Right there, with his nose and mouth buried in you, he wonders why he hadn't thought of this sooner. If he could choose a natural end like any other man, he'd wish for it to be by suffocation—your body his last breath.

Logan inhales deeply, like a man starved, working two of his fingers inside your throbbing center, his tongue flicking relentlessly over your clit, punching moan after moan out of you. Each thrust of his fingers, each stroke of his tongue, sends waves of pleasure coursing through you.

His beard, streaked with gray, leaves a trail of fire wherever your hips meet his face, pushing back against him. Every so often, you pull off his cock just to ramble, panting, about how good he's making you feel.

From where he lies, you’re a sight to behold, nothing short of divine. “Just what I needed, doll. You taste so fuckin’ sweet,” he blurts out, your frantic cries pouring into his ears as he sucks the swollen bud between his lips. “Can’t believe you let me do this to you. You love makin’ your old man happy, don’t you?”

He used to think he'd burn in hell for indulging in the desire to know you like this—raw, ungraceful.

His judgment must be fucked up, because now, all he sees in you is heaven incarnate. You must be the closest thing to it he’ll ever find.

“Shit, I…” you trail off, gasping as he replaces his fingers with his tongue, drinking from your arousal and tasting every bit of you. “I thought about you every day.”

“Bet you did, just like that night I called you. You know how I felt when you told me you were wearing my clothes?” His hand comes down with a firm slap on your right asscheek, drawing a whine from you as your movements falter. “Can smell you all over these sheets. Makes me wonder how many times you made yourself come while I was away.”

You slip the tip of his cock back in your mouth, your hands and lips working in sync. His nose brushes against the plush skin of your thighs before his teeth graze your flesh, biting down just enough to leave a sting. His fingers curl inside you, hitting that perfect spot again and again, and you moan around him, your throat vibrating against his length.

He makes you come like this, knuckles deep inside you while his thumb circles your clit. Overwhelmed by pleasure, you let go of his dick, and it hits Logan’s stomach with a wet pop. His strong arms tug you closer to his face, eyes falling closed as you ride the wave of your orgasm against his mouth, palms pressed flat on his chest.

For a brief moment, he can’t breathe, can’t feel anything but you, your scent, your taste filling his senses.

Later, he rolls you onto your back and climbs on top of you, uncertain of how much time he has spent lapping at your wetness. His hard length glides along your folds, and he lines himself up without pushing in, looking right into your eyes. 

“Remember what I told you that night over the phone?” he asks, his breath coming in quick bursts, and you nod, head lolling back as he pinches your lower lip between his fingers. “Repeat it.”

“Logan—”

“You say it, and I’ll make it happen.”

Perplexity clouds your features. “You said you’d fuck me slow and deep, just h-how I like it. Face to face, because—”. The words escape you, a sob tearing through your throat as he eases the first few inches of himself inside you, your walls instinctively making space to wrap around him.

He’s home.

“Go on. What else did I say?” he teases, relishing in it. He’s guilty as sin. “Or were you too lost in thought touchin’ yourself?”

“F-face to face,” you slur, nails digging into his scarred back, and he keeps plunging his length into your interior to the hilt. Your lips part slightly, craving the kiss that only he can give you. “You said you’d do it face to face so I could kiss you whenever I wanted.”

He hums, low in his throat, as he gives the first thrust of the night, taking great pleasure in your expression: open-mouthed, eyes scrunched, and a slight crease forming between your brows.

Smoothing his thumb over your forehead, he tsks, pausing his movements. “None of that, princess. Look at me, c’mon.”

You obey, forcing your eyes open, and in that instant, he swears he can feel every tremor coursing through you. “Logan,” you coo, your voice aching as you stretch your neck toward his mouth.

The way you say his name—seductively, charged with a fascination that riles him up—manages to ignite a fire only you can kindle. It’s all the invitation he needs.

“I know. Too much, huh?” His tone drips with condescension, teasing in a way that feels almost cruel. He can’t help it, though: it’s in very his nature. “Need to hear you say it. Need you to tell me how much you want this.”

Like everything else in your world, your patience begins to wither, hips instinctively bucking beneath him, seeking even the slightest bit of friction. But he still withholds the kiss you long for, dangling it just out of reach.

“Please,” you beg, voice breaking as you plead. “Fuck me, baby. Missed you so much while you were away. Please, please, please—”

Logan enjoys hearing you beg. He won’t pretend otherwise. There's a satisfaction in knowing he holds this power over you, that he's the only one who can unravel you this way, your body splayed open beneath him.

The thought of others who may have once been in his place, making you fall apart just like this, sets his blood on edge.

Jealousy, sharp and corrosive, crawls up his spine, and it spurs him on, guiding the tempo of his thrusts.

He wonders if he’s ever fucked you this fiercely before, with a passion that pulses from every part of him. You’re given no space for thought, no moment to catch your breath—just his unforgiving pace and the sounds spilling from your lips.

He has a way of breaking you down, turning you into a trembling, whimpering mess beneath him, and you surrender willingly, craving each second of it.

So fuckin’ tight. Can y’hear her? How badly she needs me?

Sex had never felt like this before. He’d grown accustomed to quick, meaningless fucks in poorly lit bars, fleeting encounters that left him questioning if this was all there was. If this wasn’t the best he’d ever know. 

For a while, he’d tried to solve that emptiness, searching in nameless lovers and hollow hearts for the very thing he feared most: love.

And yet, he wanted it, yearned it, guarding his desire like a secret he barely admitted to himself. Until one day, you stumbled into his life, and all the strength he thought he had wasn’t enough to push you away.

He presses deep into the back of your thighs, bringing your chests so close they're nearly brushing. Claiming your mouth in a maddening kiss, all teeth and tongue, leaving no space for softness. As he nibbles at your bottom lip, he feels you tighten around him, your cunt pulling him under, clouding his thoughts.

“Close?” he murmurs, hips snapping against you with an utterly obscene rhythm that drowns out the world, better than any song ever made. “Such a good girl. Gonna come, sweetheart? Let me see how gorgeous you look when you fall apart, making a mess just for me.”

The constant, steady drag of his cock doesn’t seem to get old for you. He’s leaving his mark within you, inside you, carving a space for himself. His tip keeps hitting all the right spots, prompting you to tilt your pelvis to meet him halfway, telling him there, yes, there. More, please.

His hand slides down, rubbing your clit with his fingers. Doesn’t need any extra help when doing so, your arousal providing all the slickness he needs. He feels like a runner on the final stretch, the finish line within reach, so close he can almost touch it, savoring the euphoria and bliss of crossing it.

The way you sing his name never loses its allure, despite all the times he’s heard it spill from your lips. Especially at this moment, with him buried deep inside you, every thrust a promise to make you feel good.

You shamelessly come while he keeps driving into you, vigorous and untamed—like a caged animal unleashed, tasting freedom for the very first time.

Ankles digging into his lower back, a trail of persistent kisses along his beard. You want him inside, that much he can tell.  It’s not like he ever finishes anywhere else, but the reminder doesn’t bother him. It only serves as a reassurance: that you still want this, want him. You haven’t changed your mind.

He sinks his teeth into your neck the instant he feels his orgasm tearing through him, hips stilling and sagging as a string of grunts abandons his being, dampening your skin even more.  He loves to fill you up, it consumes him entirely.

Such an intimate, visceral act, and then he gets to see his seed trickling down your thighs. He realizes that he doesn’t need much to be happy.

You keep kissing him, his neck, his face. It may seem absurd to say that every kiss feels like the first, yet it’s true.

Even after he’s traced all the contours of your mouth and committed every detail of your body to memory, he can’t help but feel that same thrill of excitement he experienced months ago when he dared to push beyond the boundaries he had set for himself.

Staring at each other, naked, all the love in the world seems to fill these four walls. The compassion and tenderness in your gaze remain unchanged. You’re a dream come true.

It can’t end like this. He can’t allow you to drift back into sleep without saying what needs to be said. Something has to happen, something only he can conjure.

“I think…” He hesitates. Starting with I think carries an air of uncertainty. “I don’t—”

“Logan,” you interrupt, your hand finding his. “I know.”

Yes, you do. You always seem to know everything, but that can’t be enough. He can’t lean on your unspoken understanding of his feelings.

“You still deserve to hear it.”

“It’s not necessary.”

“It is.”

More silence. The moon is the solitary spectator of his upcoming declaration. 

“You were right,” he begins, drawing your intertwined hands closer to his face, pressing a soft kiss on the back of yours. His voice drops to a murmur. It’s not just his body that feels completely exposed anymore; something deeper within him stands bare. “I’m in love with you.”

You scrutinize him as if he’s revealing the secret to eternal life. Again, you kiss his cheek, cupping it gently with your palm.

“It won’t get any better than this. There are no more layers to peel away, okay?” He offers explanations you never even asked for in the first place. “This is what I am.” Much to his dismay, you overlook his choice of words: what instead of who.

He glances away, his gaze landing on the dog tags resting against your skin. The same old guilt threatens to engulf him, as it does each time without fail, and that seems to be your cue to lower yourself to his eye level, eyebrows raised.

“I’m not with you because I’m waiting for you to change. I like you just as you are, Logan. And I want all of you, both the good and bad stuff.” A gentle smile breaks across your face as you stretch your arm to retrieve his glasses from the nightstand. Placing them on your nose, your eyes twinkle with contentment. “Do they look good on me?”

“You don’t need them yet.”

“That doesn’t mean I can’t pull them off.”

“Come here,” he mutters, sighing when you nuzzle his chest, cradling your head between his hands. He ponders what to say, what to do next, but no clear idea sounds promising.

And so it gives you the chance to speak up: “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

I hope I don’t, he thinks to himself as he brushes your hair away from your face, fingers caressing your temples. I hope I never do.

dividers by: @/cafekitsune thank you!!! <3

[thargelalia]

Comrade Red Hood

jason todd x fem!reader

patriarchy sucks, thankfully your doting nerdy boyfriend is there to show you support

-> 3k words

-> fluff, hurt/comfort, tiniest bit suggestive

-> warnings: talks of v!olence and crime (c'mon, guys, it's Gotham); mansplaining (not by Jason); reader is a little mean, but she's only human; Jason is a serial kisser and we love that for him

“Are you upset?” 

“Yes.” 

“…is it something I did?” 

“Not everything’s about you.”

Jason’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline as he lets out a low whistle at your sharp words. “Damn. I thought I was supposed to be the broody one here.”

“Getting a taste of your own medicine sometimes is good.”

Silence.

“Sure you’re not mad at me?”

“I’m beginning to.” You let out a deep frustrated sigh, massaging your temples in a futile attempt to stop the incessant throbbing headache. “What do you want, Jason?” 

“I was just—is there anything I can do for you?” He asks, shifting weight between his legs. “You seemed a bit off over the phone earlier, so I decided to drop by.”

“I just want to be alone.” You sound less passive aggressive this time as exhaustion seeps into your words. ”My head is killing me right now, so I just had an aspirin. I’ll be fine.”

“Okay. I’ll be in the living room if you need me.” Since it’s dark and your eyes are glued to the ceiling, you’re unable to take in the dejected look on his face. 

Seeing you’ve got no objections — he kind of hoped you’d change your mind and ask for cuddles — Jason leaves the room wordlessly. It’s almost like he vanishes into thin air. A well-known skill amongst all bat-family members.

Even so, he’s surprisingly light on his feet for a big guy. But then again, we’re talking about a walking deadly weapon. A vicious vigilante. The prince of Gotham. Red Hood.

Or at least that’s what he usually is when he’s not sulking in the living room for being a victim of his girlfriend’s sour mood. 

Aside from the sound of a car or two passing by down below, and police sirens echoing distantly on occasion, your place is engulfed in a comfortable silence — this a relatively quiet neighborhood. Moonlight filters through your half-open curtains, a soft welcoming breeze swaying them gently to the side. 

At some point, your eyes flutter open. You don’t even remember falling asleep. There’s a dryness to your throat, prompting you to move around and reach for a slim water bottle on the nightstand. Next to it, the digital clock reads 2:17 AM. 

A five hour nap. Nice. 

Fortunately, the pounding inside your head has subsided.

Tsking in disappointment, seeing the bottle is empty, you detangle your legs from the sheets, begrudgingly getting up and dragging yourself to the kitchen. 

The lights in the living room are still on, making your eyes squint when you approach the entrance. You’re confused to discover Jason still lounging on the couch with a book in his hands, legs spread deliciously wide. One of his feet is propped against the edge of the coffee table.

“Thought you were still out on patrol.” 

He looks up, and blinks, not expecting to see you up. “Just got back, actually. About fifteen minutes ago or so, I think.”

You hum in response and take a moment to really observe him. 

His hair is still indeed damp as it falls over his forehead. He’s also shirtless, only dressed in gray sweatpants. Took him quite a long time to feel comfortable enough to show skin like this around you. Likewise, despite the smile that your reassurances bring to his face whenever you thank him for ‘blessing your eyes with such a delectable sight’, sometimes he still gets antsy if they linger too long on his scars. So, you try to respect his limits while also making sure he knows he’s incredible and beautiful. 

There are also beads of sweat accumulated on his bare chest and neck. Despite having just showered, his body is still overheated from Red Hood’s intense activities, you notice. 

No injuries in sight tonight, thank goodness. But if there were, though, he probably wouldn’t be here. He’d still rather agonize in pain alone in his apartment than letting his medical resident girlfriend tend to him. You’re still trying to ingrain into his stubborn mind that his health will never be a disturbance to you. He will never be a disturbance to you.

Hm, though he kinda was a little bit earlier before. However, that wasn’t his fault. Nor yours, for that matter.

As if on cue, his question breaks you out of your reverie.

“Feeling better?” You nod in affirmation and he gives a sweet smile. “Good. You should eat, baby. I got you something on my way back. It’s in the kitchen.”

You mirror his smile and resume your steps to the kitchen where there’s a white medium-sized paper bag sitting on the counter. 

Dismantling crime and wreaking havoc around Gotham, just to later on pick up food to appease his moody girlfriend back home. 

Isn’t that so cute? 

After drinking your fill of cool water, you grab the food bag, a plate – to avoid crumbs dirtying the floor – and return to the living room to eat in Jason’s company. He’s still engrossed in his book. Or rather, yours. Your small library is now his, but so is his yours. It’s an unspoken agreement.

“I didn’t know Mr. Abdul’s place stays open so late.” You say thoughtfully, munching on a falafel. Jason also got you a fattoush salad, hummus, and some pita bread. Yummy. 

You’re sitting on opposite ends of the couch, legs on a pillow in his lap, while his forearms rests on top of them. He’s hunched forward in concentration on the pages in front of him.

“It doesn’t.” Without looking, Jason steals one falafel from the bag and pops it into his mouth. “I broke into his kitchen.“

You choke on a piece of pita bread. “What the f-”

“Relax. I left the money on the counter.” 

“Are you fucking kidding me??” He talks about it so casually. Almost like he’s done this before. “Wait. So, the cookies from Elena’s last time…”

“Well, that one’s obvious.” Successfully blocking a pillow chucked at his face, he rushes to defend himself, “BUT I never forget to pay, so technically I’m not stealing! Only billionaires are harmed here, I swear.”

You both know which particular billionaire he has in mind.

“Right. Keep telling yourself that, Robin. Hood.” You scoff, picking up the fattoush salad box, opening its lid and picking through vegetables with a plastic fork. Jason’s mouth opens in surprise. “Pun intended, by the way.” 

“Whatever.” He huffs with an eye roll, trying to conceal his amusement. To make a point, he raises the open book to his face and blocks your view of him, ignoring you completely. 

As you silently chew on radishes and lettuce, you take a minute to inspect what he’s reading. It’s a considerably thick book. Zeroing in the letters of the cover, your eyes widen in shock as you swallow. 

“Jason, is that—you’re reading The Capital?”

“Yeah, why?” He questions back, nonchalantly, lowering the book just past his eyes.  “You think I only read fiction?” 

“I guess… but I only asked because I think it’s an odd choice of reading given your night.” You explain, gathering the empty food containers, placing them inside the paper bag and setting it aside on the coffee table. “Aren’t you supposed to be tired?” 

“Of fighting against oppressive systems? Absolutely.” He quips, a playful smirk on his face. “This guy just gets me, you know?” 

Seeing the unimpressed look on your face, his smile dies down and he places the book down on the armrest. “I got an extra adrenaline rush while chasing Penguin’s goons this time. There were dozens of them ‘cause he was closing an important arms deal at a warehouse tonight.. Remember that time when we were watching a documentary about wolves, and it was showing how packs tend to slaughter entire flocks of sheep when they’re unable to escape from a confined space?”

“Is that your way of telling me you were in a… kill frenzy?” You swallow hard, trying not to sound too alarmed, but the distant look in his eyes accompanied by his eerie tone and word choice is unsettling. Even though you're well aware he doesn’t pose a danger to you.

Jason seldom shares the details about his gruesome Red Hood business with you. One, because he knows you already see too much violent shit while working at the hospital. 

Two, he knows you worry about his safety. 

Three, there’s also the fact that he’d like to keep a sense of normalcy at home. 

Four, and most importantly, he believes it’s best if you don’t access his dark side, but sometimes – like right now – he’s unable to conceal it. At the end of the day, he’s only someone fighting their shadows like any other. 

Although, his are evidently a bit more obscure and jarring. 

There’s a pregnant pause before he finally breaks out of his trance with a shake of his head. Taking in your tense posture and concerned face, he softens his demeanor, reaching for one of your hands. One, two, three kisses delivered to the tip of your fingers and he’s pulling you to sit straddling his legs. Calloused palms start rubbing the top of your thighs in reassurance back and forth. 

“Don’t worry, baby. I didn’t shoot to kill..uh, mostly.” There’s no way of telling if he’s being sincere, and, frankly, you’d rather not think about this. As usual, he’s attuned to your senses, and tries to lighten the conversation up. “Anyways, I was still feeling charged when I got back. That’s why I picked one of your brainy books to help me wind down. Since your Sociology shelf was right in my line of sight, I decided to give it a try… Oh, I just remembered I forgot to bring you my French copy of Madame Bovary again.” 

“Hm, it’s fine. I’ll borrow it next time I’m at your place. But, back to my books. Why do I feel like this isn’t a first time thing? I did find some of my Sociology books misplaced a couple of weeks ago,” you complain. “Glad you’re having fun tackling dialectical materialism as a post-vigilante workout, but please make sure you put my books in order once you’re done.” 

“So bossy.” He playfully tuts, adding a nip to your shoulder. Then you feel his lips trace a slow path up to your neck, leaving a slow deliberate kiss there. “And so pretty, too.”

He smiles mischievously, lips still attached to your skin, as you shudder. 

Devious bastard.

Crossing your arms, you try not to blush and keep your voice steady. “I mean it, Jason.”

“Alright, alright. I’ll mind your precious organization.” He follows his promise with a chaste kiss, this time to your lips. “But seriously, you do look pretty.” 

“What, out of a sudden?” You raise your eyebrows in amusement. 

Jason prides himself in being a skillful liar. It often comes in handy. 

But he most definitely is not the type to give empty compliments. 

Especially not to the most precious person of his life. 

And you’re aware of that. His eyes don’t lie.

There’s that deep candid warmth swirling within those mesmerizing irises that just captures you whole. They remind you of the ocean, colors of a fine line between blue and green, like teal. Sometimes calm and serene, sometimes agitated and raging. 

One thing is sure. You’re the only person who gets to soak into the tranquil waters hidden amidst the windows of his soul. 

Because you’re the only one capable of bringing them out. 

“Nah, I always think that when I see your face.” Comes his reply.

At that, more kisses ensue. Obviously.

First one is yours, molding your lips to his in an instant as you try to return his incessant devotion with eagerness. He wastes no time in reciprocating, mouth slightly parting to welcome your tongue inside. It makes your head fuzzy all over. Every single fucking time. This type of intimacy took almost as long to construct as the display of his body. You’re never taking his trust for granted. Never. Soon enough, Jason discovered himself to be a great fan of kissing. You. He’s done it before with other people, sure, but it didn’t make him feel like this. Yearn like this. As if he depended on it to survive. And he might as well do. Your fingers find their way to his scalp, tangling in silky locks and pulling while trapping his lower lip between your teeth, eliciting a soft groan from him. As a result, he grips your hips harder, drawing you impossibly closer. The heat from his bare muscular chest is scorching, almost too much to bear as it seeps through your shirt – his shirt. 

You two only break apart because he decides to now trail his lips downward, leaving you panting, eyes sealed shut in pleasure, as he works his mouth across every other available patch of your skin. From jaw to neck, and shoulder. And back up.

This time his ministrations are sweeter and more tender, making you melt completely into his embrace. 

Finally sated, after delivering a last kiss behind your ear, he whispers softly and a little breathless, “Wanna share now why you almost bit my head off a few hours ago, hm?” 

Watching your face fall when he pulls back, his heart equally drops, causing him to backtrack, “S’okay, baby. You don’t have to tell me. I’m sorry.”

You exhale shakily, glancing down to fiddle with the hems of your – his – shirt. A hand cups your cheek, and tilts your head upwards carefully, thumb brushing the soft skin back and forth. Molten blue-green irises coaxing you to relax like the gentle sway of the sea. Telling he’s trusty and willing to listen.

“No, it’s just… ugh…” He waits patiently as you gather your thoughts. “I had to deal with one of my stupid professors mansplaining to me during my presentation today. A subject that I’ve been studying for years now. I knew what I was talking about and he acted as if I didn’t, saying that I didn’t use the concepts correctly like I was a child. Some of my colleagues told me I shouldn’t take his words personally, but it fucking sucked. Still does. I hate it when people, especially men, undermine my intelligence. I just felt so frustrated, I went to the bathroom and cried when the presentation ended. And to top it off, I got a miserable headache on the way home. So yeah, that’s why I was in such a shitty mood tonight. I’m sorry I took it out on you…” 

While describing what happened and venting about your feelings, you barely registered the way his arms tensed around you or how a muscle in his jaw ticked. There’s really no mistaking the look on his face now. The dark stormy blue that has replaced the soothing sea green. “Jason, no. Promise me you won’t do anything stupid.”

“He upset you.” Your boyfriend states in a clipped tone. “He made you cry.” 

“No matter how tempting, you can’t just fuck up every single guy that gets on my nerves.”

“I beg to differ.”

“Jace.” You beg, exasperated. “Please. That’s not what I need right now, okay? He was being an asshole, yes, but the academy, and the whole world, is crowded with them unfortunately. Most of the time, I can handle it just fine. But, today was different. I’ve been preparing for my presentation for days, so he caught me by surprise with his arrogance and my anxiety kinda escalated, I guess. What I mean is I didn’t tell you this because I wanted you to avenge me. I just want to be understood. Can’t you do that for me?” The sight of tears filling your wide eyes dilute his outrage instantly. You’re engulfed in a tight comforting hug.

“Of course, baby. I’ll never feel the same as you ‘cause I’m not a woman, but you must know I’m here for you and I’m sorry you had to deal with this.” He offers, sympathetically, before something darker twists his features again. “I won’t lie to you, though. It’d be easy for me to rip that fucking bastard’s tongue—”

“Jason.”

“—and feed it to his mouth until he chokes—”

“Jason.” 

He puts a finger to your mouth to silence you, just to pull back immediately before it gets bitten off.

“—but I won’t do that.” Not today at least, he keeps this last part to himself. “My point is a brilliant woman like you will always be a threat to insecure fuckers like him. Bet he’s just jealous he’ll never shine as bright as you do.”

You throw your arms around his neck, burying your face in it with a sniffle. “I love you.”

“I love you too. A lot.” Nuzzling into your hair, he inhales the soft scent of jasmine shampoo. “Feeling okay?”

“Yes. Thank you.” You really are. But, then, you sigh wistfully. “I’m thinking if I were an Amazon, it’d probably be easier to deal with this type of situation.”

“How so?” He tilts his head, confused.

“You know… I’d be strong, powerful... intimidating. Stuff like that.” 

“You already wield your intellect like the sharpest blade I’ve ever seen. Your words are eloquent and sharp when you stick up for what you believe. Not to mention the way you carry yourself with confidence even when you’re in a room filled with strangers.” He tucks a lock of hair behind your ear, speaking earnestly. “Trust me, sweetheart. You don’t need to be an Amazon when you’re already a goddess.” 

“That’s… wow… I wasn’t expecting that.” The butterflies are throwing a fucking rave in your stomach. You just can’t stop grinning, so you playfully hit his shoulder. “Never knew you could be so sappy.” 

He catches your wrist delicately, not missing the opportunity to turn it and plant his lips on your knuckles.

“That’s all on you. You turned me into this.” He claims, placing your open palm over his heart, and holding it there. It’s beating quite rapidly. Like yours is. “Take responsibility, woman.” 

“Fine,” you concede with a playful eye roll. Guilty as charged, your honor. “But, seriously, thank you. Your words mean a lot.”

“You mean a lot to me. Don’t ever forget that.” One, two, three pecks to his lips. You discover you really love kissing him as well. 

Suddenly, he’s covering his mouth with a yawn. Outside, Gotham’s black heaven is starting to get tinged with pink and yellow, announcing the sun’s impending arrival. Soon the streets around your building will have people going out about their day. Unbeknownst to them, one of the guys responsible for their safety sleeps tucked in your bed right around the corner. 

“We should probably sleep.” Jason begins, effortlessly getting up in a swift motion while still holding onto you. Your legs wrap around his waist as he walks you two to the bedroom. “I already lost way more brain cells than intended. Gotta save some for Mary Wollstonecraft tomorrow.”

“You’re such a dork.”

“And you need to get woke,” he taunts.

“These are my books!” You counter, indignantly. 

“Ours. Don’t be so individualistic, baby. That’s why capitalism—” Not letting him finish, you jump off his arms and go into the bathroom as he trails behind like a lost puppy.

“Yeah, yeah, I get it, comrade Red Hood. Now shut your revolutionary mouth, and let’s get ready for bed.”

thanks for reading, and please reblog if you enjoyed it <33

feel free to share your thoughts, i'd love to hear them!

this is where i got the dividers

[pholla-jm]

Meet My Wife

IMAGINE: MEET MY WIFE~ LUFFY X F!READER GENRE: FLUFF warnings: f!reader implied. not proof read. slight cursing ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Luffy seemed more excited than usual. I mean, he’s always bouncing off the wall. But it was like he was expecting something and he couldn’t wait for it. 

“What do you think he’s excited about?” Chopper asks Nami.” She just sighs and waves her hand around, “knowing him. He’s probably excited about food.” 

Little did they know, they were about to be in a world of shock. 

Luffy did not waste a single second jumping off the boat as soon as it docked. He continued to run straight into town, like he knew exactly where he was going. 

The rest of the crew just watched him, some in confusion and some of them looked exhausted. Sanji sighs, taking a deep breath of his cigarette. “He’s most likely going to cause trouble.” Nami sighs, already feeling a headache form because of her idiot captain. 

However, it wasn’t food or a new adventure that got him this excited. No, it was someone who was very important to him. He remembered the instructions very clearly. He couldn’t forget it. Just follow the path, there are going to be white flowers along the path. It should lead all the way down to a small house with flowers and different plants all around the place. 

His eyes grew wide seeing the variety of plants and flowers, knowing that you had planted these yourself. The door opens and a large smile covers his face. 

“(y/n)!” He shouts, grabbing your attention. He ran at you, full force and it looked like he wasn’t going to stop. You drop the empty basket you were carrying, fully prepared for him to throw himself onto you. 

And you were right. His body crashes into you. His arms and legs wrapping around you, and he nuzzles his face into your cheek. The first thing he notices is how soft your skin feels against him. The second thing he notices is how sweet you smell. You smelled like fresh laundry, but with a hint of something sweet, like you were just baking. 

“Luffy.” You softly say with a smile on your face. “I didn’t know you were going to be here so soon… I missed you.” You whisper the last part. “I missed you too.” Lufffy pulls back, letting you go a bit. “Are you making something?” He asks. 

You nod your head, “yes. It’s actually almost done. Would you like to try some?” He immediately nods his head yes and you laugh. “I don’t know why I asked. Of course you would. Come inside.” 

He completely lets you go now, and you pick up the empty basket heading back inside. 

The sweet scent is stronger and Luffy basically salivates at the smell. You grab a cloth, pulling out the fresh strawberries and cream croissants. There were only a few, since you weren’t expecting company. 

“Careful, they’re hot.” You say but he doesn’t care. He’s already stuffing his mouth with a croissant. 

His eyes widen and there’s a smile on his face. “They're so good!” He says while grabbing another one. You laugh, “wait. Save one for me.” You grab the last one, taking a bite of it. You were glad how good they came out. 

Once he scarfs down the second croissant, he looks at you and clears his throat. “You should meet my crew!” He says like it was another Tuesday.  

Your eyes widen. “Really?” You ask and he nods his head. “Of course!” You suddenly got nervous and wondered what his crew was like. They had to be nice, right? Luffy only accepted the best of the best. So what would they think of you?

“Like right now?” 

Luffy stands up, “yeah!” He grabs onto your arm and drags you out of the small house. 

“W-wait! Wait! Let me at least clean myself up.” You try to tell him but it falls upon deaf ears. 

You were now leaving your property, and Luffy must've thought you were moving too slow because he suddenly picks you up bridal style. His arms securely wrapped underneath your legs and the other one supporting your back. 

You let out a small gasp, surprised at the action. It had you a bit flustered as he ran back to what you could assume was his ship. 

He was running for about five minutes until the both of you arrived at the port. Multiple ships lined up on the dock, but there was one that stood out to you. A ship with a sheep head. It was… cute. 

You could see people walking on the ship, minding their own business. Until they spot their captain holding some girl. 

The redhead girl gasps, gaining the attention of the other crewmates. 

“Holy shit, Luffy! Did you kidnap someone?!” Nami shouts, a bit horrified. 

Luffy just laughs as he jumps onto the ship, causing you to let out a short yelp at the unexpected height change. 

“No,” Luffy laughs while placing you down, “I want you to meet my wife.” He announces causing everyone on the ship to gasp. Your eyes widened and your cheeks warmed up at his announcement. There was no way he still thinks that the wedding was real…

“What?!” A blonde male shrieks, “you’re telling me that this idiot right here is actually married.” “Yup!” Luffy says with a proud smile on his face and his fists on his hips. “No, I don’t believe it.” Another male says while shaking his head. 

“Well believe it. We kissed and everything. It was official.” He says, causing you to cover your face in embarrassment. You had no idea that Luffy was going to introduce you like this. 

The blonde male cries out, shouting how unfair the universe was. 

“(y/n).” Luffy says while grabbing onto your wrist. He pulls you forward, “I want you to meet my crew!” 

He points at the blonde, “that’s Sanji, our cook.” He then points at the woman, “Nami, our navigator.” He then points at the curly headed man, “Usopp, aaaaand,” he points at the sleeping man with green hair, “Zoro.” 

“Everyone, this is (y/n). My wife!” He pulls you again. This time you were pressed up against him. You honestly felt like you were on fire. 

You wondered how strange this must've looked for them. And you honestly wanted to clear things up.

“B-but Luffy.” You whisper, gaining his attention. “We got married as kids. Kids, Lu.” You emphasize the words kid, hoping that he would get the hint. 

“Oh, yeah.” He says like he almost forgot something important, “I have these.” He pulls out two rings. The same poorly made rings that were made as kids. 

You grab one of the rings, feeling the familiar flutter in your heart. Luffy smiles, “I think they’re too small now. But that’s okay. We can make new ones.” 

A blush dusts your cheeks. It was really sweet that he still considers you his wife. “Yeah… that actually sounds really nice.” 

“Shishishi, I knew you would like that.”

Well... maybe things didn't have to be cleared up right away. Let the crew think the strange things.

[ddejavvu]

so i absolutely love the best friend james potter fic where he warms his hands between the reader’s thighs and the idea of him having really bad circulation just makes sense to me, so can we get a technically kinda part two but instead of between the readers thighs it’s that portion of underboob that just heats up so much for no reason whatsoever? 🙇🙇🙇

Sirius's canine form requires him to get at least twelve hours of outdoor time per week, but during the winter months it becomes a chore delegated to the least lucky of the group: take Padfoot for a walk.

"Please, Jamie?" You'd leveled James with puppy eyes that rivalled Sirius himself, and now two sets of footprints lay in the snow beside pawprints that wind around them in happy trails.

"It's bloody cold out here." James comments, like your own nose isn't burning from the temperature, "Sirius, can't you piss on trees faster?"

Padfoot, who greatly resents the tree-pissing stereotype, takes a snapping lunge at James's ankles that sends him careening into you from your left.

"James!" You shriek as your feet and his knock clumsily together, all four united in trying to stabilize you. His arm wraps around your waist and he finds his footing first, which means that you're supported by his grip as you find your own. You find yourself inches away from his face, his nose stained red akin to his cheeks as you both laugh at how you've ended up pinned to a tree in the forest. Sirius barks at you, sounding suspiciously giddy, and James drags his hands off of your back, trailing them over your stomach as he goes.

"Gonna put a muzzle on you for that one, mutt." James threatens Sirius, who dashes off to find a stick or lick a toad or whatever else his dog brain fancies at the moment. You're left trailing beside James once again, wishing that you had your own stick to drag through the snow.

"You were really warm," James reminisces, his hands surely going numb, "Like- your stomach?"

"It's my boobs," You snicker, "No matter how cold a girl gets, the space beneath her tits will always be warm."

"Really?" James peers curiously at you, "That's cool. It's like a life hack."

"Right. It's-" You stick a hand guilelessly beneath your shirt, nestling it beneath the curve of your bra, "It's not, like, sweaty or anything. Just warm."

"Fascinating." James pushes his glasses up his nose with a single outstretched finger, "Wish I had some of those."

"You can borrow mine," You concede, taking James's hand in your own and sliding it up your stomach until his hand is leeching off of the same warmth you'd felt only seconds prior, "Feel it?"

His jaw drops, one of his unruly curls bouncing stubbornly in front of his face.

"Darling, you weren't kidding! It's like an oven in here." He hums, his other hand greedily reaching for the excess space beneath your chest, "Oh my god, if I had this I'd never stop touching it."

When Padfoot returns it's to James pressing you against another tree, hands pressed firmly to the space beneath your tits. He charges for James determinedly, latching his teeth around the man's elbow and pulling with all of his might to separate his friend from you.

"Pads- ouch! She's- relax, Fido, she's let me. I'm warming my hands, thank you very much."

James manages to pry Padfoot's maw off of him, hissing at the skin surely bruised beneath his thick wool coat.

"It's alright, Sirius." You rub sweetly between the dog's ears, "His hands were cold, that's all. Don't want to bring him back to the castle with less than ten fingers."

Sirius's resulting growl towards James sounds suspiciously like he's going to lose fingers anyways, whether it be from frostbite or a dog's bite.

[hungharrington]

Thinking about Steve cumming quickly - like under 30 seconds of thrusting because he's just so in love with you he couldn't help it

He hides his face in your neck afterwards all embarrassed and you rub his back to bring him back down from the intensity of it all

To add to this - he also has certain triggers that make him cum immediately.

You say you love him, he cums. You scratch at his tummy/happy trail, he cums. You gently pull on his hair, he cums.

My apologies if these thoughts have already been given but it's all I've been thinking about this morning 😭😭

a most delicious ask i’ve been hoarding 🫶 i LOVE all these thoughts i’m sry i didn’t get to incorporate all of them !! is this hot? idk…. but it’s got sum love in it tehe MDNI this entire blog is 18+

Look, Steve Harrington doesn’t have his reputation for nothing, okay?

He’s a ladies man, through and through. He knows exactly what he’s doing with his hands, he loves getting his face in between a pair of thighs, and perhaps most importantly, he is not a minute man.

Steve Harrington has stamina.

At least, he certainly thought he did— but that was before you. But in his defense, nobody told him that sex is a hundred times better when you love the person. A thousand better if they love you back.

And, god, does he fucking love you.

You’re a dream— all laid out on the bed beneath him, chest bare and eyes soft and heavy. Your lips are sheened with spit and all kiss-bitten and Steve has no doubt he looks the same. Kissing you never gets old. His cock throbs, aching for some friction and just begging to be buried inside you.

“Well?” You say, somewhere between a tease and a breathy gasp. “What’re you waiting for?”

Your fingers slip into the waistband of your panties but Steve is quick to knock them away, replacing them with his own hands. He grins up at you, his tongue darting out to wet his lips.

“Can’t let you do my favourite part now, can I?”

You giggle. With that his fingers start to trail down your naval, slow and sensually, dragging the fabric with them. Your hips move to accommodate him and your breath hitches as he drags them down your thighs that part as he wrangles them off your ankles, inviting him in.

Steve nearly groans at the mere sight—a hot surge twisting in his tummy that goes straight to his cock. God, he must be losing blood with how much blood is rushing to harden it up. Or maybe he’s just too enamoured with you and that’s enough to make him breathless. Either way, he’s aching.

“God, baby,” He says, voice gravelly. “Just look at you.”

His hands shift up from grasping lightly at your ankles up, up, up, til he’s nudging your thighs apart further. His dark eyes flick up to your face, his expression one of hunger.

“Y’so pretty, honey,” He coos.

You flush, feeling somehow more naked at his compliment, knowing he’s being sincere. Reaching up, you drape your hand around his neck and urge him forward slowly, pressing up to scrape your lips against his.

“Oh, yeah?” You breathe, your lips twitching up at the obvious way Steve’s breath catches in his throat. “Which part of me’s so pretty?”

Steve chuckles, his gaze switching between your own and says, “All of you,” before he kisses you like he’s starved of the taste of you.

Breaking the kiss, he leans back and his hand disappears into his bedside table for a condom. He makes quick work of it, pausing to give himself a firm squeeze around the base as he does— fuck, he’s going to bust the moment he gets inside of you if he doesn’t take a moment.

But you’re so damn hot — and eyeing him with a heavy desire that makes his tummy hot. He’s not sure he can wait.

He shifts himself up and settles on his hands on your thigh, pushing it back further so he can line himself up and sink in tantalisingly slow. Your cunt is warm and wet, drawing a whiny moan from his throat, and Steve’s head drops into the curve of your shoulder in an instant.

“Fuck,” He hisses, hips flexing to hold back from pushing himself all the way in—a near impossible task considering the breathy little noise you make. God, fuck, fuck, he can’t move another inch or he’ll lose it. “Fuck, baby, you feel so good.” He gasps.

Your arms looped around his neck tighten, pressing your chest up against his as you make a noise of agreement. You begin to mouth lazily up his throat, feeling the throb of his cock between your legs like a heartbeat, burning hotter and hotter.

“Cmon, Steve,” you whisper, nibbling at his earlobe. Steve keens, his hips shoving forward bit more as he tries to contain himself. “Want you to fuck me,”

He makes another pitiful noise that he’d probably be embarrassed of if he wasn’t so gone. He follows your instructions quickly, shifting his hips so he can start slowing fucking into you. It’s lewd, soft wet noises sounding as he builds up a rhythm, sinking himself into you over and over. Pleasure drools through his gut.

“Stevie,” you pout, panting lightly. “Can’t— can’t see you,” You tug on his hair lightly, trying to encourage his face out of hiding but only succeeding in making him whimper. His cheeks burn hotly but he forces his face up, kissing along your jaw as he does.

His eyes crease open as he pulls back and Steve keens at the sight of you, his plush lips parting in a soft pant. Fuck, what was wrong with him? Normally he’d be still murmuring filthy things into your skin, marking up your neck while his hips roll into you, all does that feel good? and oh, it does when you moan in response.

Instead, he’s the one coming apart and beyond his words. You scrape your hand through his hair again and leave it cupped sweetly on his jaw, your eyes watching closely. Swatching your thumb across his cheek, you moan lightly, “Wanna -uh- wanna see your face, baby— love your pretty face,”

Something tightens up in Steve’s tummy, heat flourishing up his spine and he whimpers loudly, the roll of his hips turning the rapid, jerky thrusts in a moment. Skin slaps against skin and you make the cutest noise at the change of pace. It feels so good—too good. He feels too close, his pleasure scratching the edge of release.

Then you stutter out a breathy, “I love you, Steve,” and the coil in his stomach snaps without warning.

Steve gasps loudly and his entire body tightens, his face burying itself in you neck as his hips fuck into your snug cunt desperately. He all but collapses onto you, his hands curling around your waist tightly as he lets out a string of pathetically whiny noises, coming undone far too quickly.

It takes a moment for you to realise what’s happened— to figure out exactly why Steve suddenly sinks him cock into you with fervor and is whimpering in your ear. He’s trembling lightly you realise, as your arms sweep down his back, letting him fuck through his orgasm.

The pleasure of it drags out and by the time it tapers out, mortification begins to set in. Steve’s only glad he’s hidden his face so you can’t see his flaming cheeks. Fuck. Fuck. He’s never finished that fast before.

“I’m so sorry, you just feel— and you said—” He starts, voice sounding wrecked.

“Don’t apologise,” you interrupt sweetly. You stroke down his back soothingly and Steve can’t help but shiver. He groans loudly.

“Don’t apologise for finishing after 1 minute like a 16 years old virgin?” He asks, going for sarcastic but failing with the embarrassment tinting his tone.

You can’t help but giggle, hand still sweeping over his back comfortingly as you say, “I don’t think that was even a minute, babe.”

Steve groans louder, attempting to press his face further into your neck and nipping at it when you laugh a little louder. You’re being way too sweet about this. Steve’s not sure he can ever show his face again.

“I’m banning you from saying ‘i love you’ in bed,” He says, the words muffled against your skin. You huff another laugh, grinning, and comb your fingers through his hair.

“Boo.” You pout, knowing he’s joking completely. You’re still throbbing and aching for him to keep moving but you know you only have to be patient. He’ll fuck you just as you need it. “You’re no fun.”

“I used to have stamina,” He whines. “What have you done to me?”

You chuckle again, turning and pressing a kiss to his temple as best you can. “Turned you full loverboy. Soon enough, any time I say I love you, you’ll pop a boner.”

From within you, you feel the soft twitch of his dick and Steve’s breath hitches again. He finally digs his face out of your neck, a serious furrow between his brows. “Don’t even joke about that!”

[pochaccoups]

beggin’ on his knees — kim mingyu

pairing — kim mingyu x f!reader

summary — mingyu looks good when he’s on his knees.

wc — 2k

warnings — nsfw content. minors dni. smut, established relationship, slight sub!mingyu (he’s a big puppy in this), oral (f receiving), fingering, creampie, not beta read sry

“Please?”

“No, Mingyu.”

“Pleaseee?”

“Mingyu, stop.”

“But… why not?”

“Because I’m still mad at you. No.”

You don’t spare your boyfriend a glance as he stands in the doorway, your gaze thoroughly fixed on your book—your book that you haven’t read a sentence of since he’d walked in.

“But you always let me eat you out before bed.”

You heave out a sigh, dragging a hand down your face in exasperation. “Well, right now I don’t want you to.”

A lie. You know damn well that letting him give you an orgasm or two would quell your infuriation at him, but you’re too stubborn. Mingyu is like a puppy—giving in to his sulking and pouting, however irresistible, only teaches him how to get his way. If you look up, you’re certain you’ll find a pair of pathetic, glistening eyes staring at you, and it’ll become so, so much harder for you to keep your foot down.

“But baby,” he says, so soft, in a way that personifies his affection for you. That one word in that tone of his is the first strike to your heart. “I can show you how sorry I am. Please?”

“Mingyu, I already-”

Finally he gets you to look at him when he beelines over to your side of the bed, takes your hand in both of his, and drops to his knees on the floor.

“Please, baby, I’m begging you. I need to taste you so bad.” He doesn’t hide the desperation in his voice, nor the pleading look in his stupid, round, pretty eyes. “I’m sorry I’ve been neglecting you for work. I’ll do better. I’ll make it up to you, I promise, and I’ll start with this. Please?”

It’s true that perhaps you’re being a little too cruel out of pettiness—you know his schedule is mostly out of his hands and how hectic things get for him. But there are times where things are in his hands, and still he ends up staying for drinks with the boys a little too long for your liking.

He looks fucking good like this though. In fact, your pussy throbs a little, seeing him like this for you—at your mercy. Despite the pinpricks of hurt he’d given you, you can’t find it in you to send him away.

“Fine,” you say, and he’s about to pounce on you until you stop him with a hand to his chest. “No, no. Stay there for me.”

Mingyu watches intently as you sit up, swinging your legs over the edge of the bed so that he’s sat neatly in between them. Unable to wait any longer, he’s reaching for the top of your pyjama pants, tugging them down your legs so hastily you’d think he’s running out of time.

It’s a wonder how he has the control to not tear your underwear off and dive straight in—instead he’s pressing soft kisses that drip with apology all over your thighs, letting his giant hands warm your skin as they roam over your legs. It’s a view you wish you could imprint into your brain forever: your buff, six-foot-three boyfriend on his knees, worshipping you.

It’s only when your hips shift ever so slightly, when Mingyu senses the very first shred of impatience manifesting within you, does he settle his face right where you need him. He presses all the way up against your covered cunt, nudges at your clit with his nose and prods at your hole with his tongue, fabric be damned.

“You begged for this, at least do it right,” you scold, sounding a little more breathless than you’d like.

Mingyu smirks. Of course he does—you’re proving him right. His hands envelop yours as you shove your panties down your legs, and before they can even hit the floor, the wet warmth of his tongue is licking at your awaiting pussy.

You’re kind of stupid, you realise, because why on earth were you refusing this in the name of being petty? He’s sucking on your clit and you’re already whining his name, while his fingers sink into the fat of your thighs and pry your legs open even wider.

Mingyu lacks both mercy and shame when he gets his mouth on you. He becomes depravity in human form, sounds of him slurping and spitting filling the room as he becomes drunk on your taste. His tongue is everywhere, slipping up and down through your folds, playing with your clit until your eyes are rolling back and you’re grabbing fistfuls of his dark hair.

“Mingyu, f-fuck,” you sigh, your spine curling off the bed, your hips rutting against his face. “Need more.”

And Kim Mingyu will never fail to give you exactly what you want, so he circles your sticky, drooling hole with his finger and slides it inside you. And his fingers are so thick that just one alone makes you shiver as it curls up into your sweet spot, and combined with the nonstop lapping of his tongue at your clit, it’s no question why there’s heat pooling deep in your core.

Then he does stop, much to your dismay. Well, he only pulls his mouth an inch away so that he can ask you with his glistening, pouty lips, “does it feel good, baby?”

“Yes-fuck,” you gasp as his finger grazes repeatedly at the most sensitive patch inside you. “Be a good boy and put your big mouth to use though.”

He obeys you without a moment’s delay.

Mingyu drinks in all your noises—the wetness of his saliva mixed with your arousal, the squelch of his finger pressing into you, and your shaky, breathy moans that are a barely coherent mixture of curses and his name. It’s your high, and yet he’s chasing it, too.

He lives for the long, high-pitched whine you let out when he slips another finger inside. He’s pumping them in and out of you with such vigour that his bicep starts to bulge, and when you pull on his hair for dear life he feels his cock jump in his sweats. At the same time his mouth is ruthless as he practically makes out with your pussy, and you rock your hips absentmindedly until you’re riding his face, and fuck, you’re so hot that Mingyu thinks he might cum untouched.

“God, Gyu, just-just like that,” you keen, melting under his gaze that’s both concentrated and hazy. He’s drunk and he’s focused, tuned into your body and the way your walls clench around his fingers, telling him you’re almost there.

It takes just a few more thrusts of his fingers and swipes of his tongue before your moans reach a crescendo, and the heat in your stomach erupts with vengeance.

While your thighs tremble on his shoulders, Mingyu pulls his fingers out from your soaked heat and brings them straight to his mouth. He makes a show of sucking your juices off them, moaning like it’s essence from the sweetest fruit. To him it is.

“I’m hard now,” he says in a whisper.

“So?” you ask, propping yourself up on your elbows to get a good look at him. Him still kneeling; his fluffy hair a mess; his cheeks and chin drenched with your cum; his sweatpants a tent. It’s so pathetic it makes your pussy even wetter.

“Can I put it in? Please?”

You pretend to ponder it for a second—he just looks so cute when he’s desperate for pussy. Then you become aware of how empty you are, and give Mingyu his next command: “kiss me first.”

He’s up now, pinning you underneath him as he does exactly what you ask of him. His lips are sloppy against yours, his tongue weaving its way inside your mouth. He’s kissing you with such want that it’s messy, disgusting almost, but your boyfriend will sooner die than not put his entire soul into something.

His heavy cock prods against you, just as shameless and imposing as Mingyu himself. It’s sticky with precum and so hard that it’s practically throbbing with need, and you wish you were stronger than this but you need him stretching you out now.

“Fuck me, Mingyu,” you mumble against ravenous lips.

He slides home immediately, until his balls are warm against your ass. Then he hikes your legs up on his shoulders and starts to pound away at you like he has something to prove.

The sounds he makes when he gets inside you should be embarrassing to him, but they’re not. Much less to you—hearing him whimper like a clingy puppy in your ear makes you soak all over his cock. You know people look at him and his towering height and his bulging arms and they see strength, control, dominance, and what they’ll never know about is this—that your pussy reduces him to a desperate, whining mess.

Every snap of his hips has you gasping, sends you reaching for the sheets and his hair. Now that he’s finally inside you, he’s taking full advantage of it, because God forbid you think he’s slacking after begging with his heart and soul. No, no—he’ll show you how sorry he is, make up for every minute of your time that he’d wasted, and he’ll do it by fucking you into next week, filling you up (if you let him), and tending to you like you’re royalty after.

“Harder, baby,” you sigh, even though you know that word is dangerous territory with him, but his thrusts had slowed a little in his pondering about how sorry he was.

But oh, does he deliver. More than delivers. Mingyu leans forward, folds you even more in half until your thighs burn, but when his cock is buried so deep in your guts the pain becomes dull. He fucks into you with every ounce of muscle he has, leaning his weight on you so that every stroke breaches past your cervix and touches your soul itself.

Sweat beads on his forehead. His cheeks are lightly flushed; his toned, tanned skin gleaming. Your boyfriend looks divine as he ruins your cunt, as though this is what he was born to do: to please you. You want him to keep splitting you open, to stretch you out endlessly. You want his warm, sticky load inside you even more.

“H-hah, Gyu, baby…” you pant.

“Yeah? Feels good?” he asks, hissing as you clench down on him at the sound of his voice.

“Mm, love the way you fuck me,” you moan. “But I want your cum inside me.”

Your words make his hips stutter. He bites down on his bottom lip hard, willing himself to not cum then and there.

“Want you to cum first,” he whines through gritted teeth, and you near scream when his thumb finds your clit to rub at it, quick and precise in the way that you stand no chance against.

Only a few more hard strokes is all it takes for your orgasm to come hurtling towards you, tearing through your whole body and making you sob Mingyu’s name while his fingers and his hips never let up.

The way your walls clench and gush around his cock as you cum is ruthless. It’s a vice, selfish grip, one that entices him to his own climax, because there’s nothing that gets Kim Mingyu off more than making the love of his life cum.

“Cum for me, Gyu. Make me happy,” you whisper in the aftershock of your orgasm.

He gives you exactly what you want, driving himself impossibly deep inside you and giving a strangled moan as you milk every last drop of his seed out of him.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he whimpers, letting your legs fall from his shoulders as he collapses on top of you. Even when he’s dry, his cock twitches, still, and you think it’ll be a while before he pulls out of you.

You hum, warm and content. Your hand reaches for Mingyu’s hair, fingers brushing through it as he comes down. His face is buried in your neck, and his soft, warm breaths against your skin threaten to lull you to sleep.

Eventually he mutters out, “I’m sorry again.”

You can’t help but stifle a laugh. He’s good at grovelling, that’s for sure.

“You’re making dinner for the rest of the week,” you tell him. “And if you have a late schedule then you’re ordering me something. And if you do leave me hanging again I’ll kill you. Got it?”

“Yes, ma’am. Do you still love me?”

“Yes, Mingyu, I love you.”

[fairy-angel222]

Dilf! Toji helping his college gf study.. with his cock

Leaning against his door frame as he pushes it open wider. A smirk on his face as you shyly squeeze in past his frame.

You’re holding tons of books in your hands, peering up at him through your lashes as you hand them over. “So.. where do we start?” It makes his cock strain when you tilt your head with your lip nudged between your teeth. Curious as to how he of all people could actually help you study.

“You’ll see, doll.”

He sits you down on his lap with a silent groan. Flipping through pages in front of you as he watched your eyes barely scan over the page.

You huffed, turning around with your arms over his shoulder and a pout. “Come onnn, this is so boring.”

“Study, now.” His voice held no trace of playfulness, the deep rumble making you sigh as you turned back around. “Fine.”

You were so restless, twisting and turning in his lap making his grip tighten on your hips. The man’s breath hitching as his cock hardens.

“You know what doll? Change of plans.” You find his fat cock buried inside you instead. Your thighs twitching as you held back the urge to move, to grind, anything. You were so full, and he was so deep. You needed it.

“Please can i move?” You whimpered, arousal leaking lewdly out his thigh at the feeling of him sat directly against your spot. “P-plea.. haah— please.”

Toji grinned, his breath against your ear as he chuckled meanly. “How about this? For every question you get right, one point gets added to me absolutely ruining that tight little pussy of yours.”

Another whimper, “A-and if i get it wrong?”

“Minus one point of course. Hmm.. and let’s just say when i do fuck you. You won’t be cumming for a while.”

Question after question. Wrong answer after wrong answer. You were probably in the negatives already.

“T-toji ple-ase,” you hiccuped, small drops of tears threatening to spill at simply your neediness. You were so desperate for him to fuck you. Your pussy aching each time he turned you down.

Toji watched as you frustratedly wiped away your tears, pulling the book to you for you to read. Actually read. He was impressed, all so you could get a little bit of cock.

You spend at least thirty minutes studying the pages. Confident when Toji started asking questions. And you had every right to be, answering questions correctly after correctly. Your sniffled voice now turned smug making Toji’s eyes widen. That was hot and he fucking loved you.

“Now. Please fuck me,” you breathe.

“As you wish, doll.” He has you flipped over in an instant. Skirt bunched at your hips as he begins fucking into you. Veiny cock dragging against your walls with each starting thrust.

“Ahh— faster.”

Toji swore he could cum right there, speeding up the pace of his hips until he was ramming into you. Your body being rocked roughly against the couch’s fabric as you moaned loudly. Lips parted in thankful cries each time his hips met yours meanly. “So good, so fucking good.” You mewled, stomach tightening as tears welled in your eyes. Good tears this time.

Your back arched, hands hooking around his torso when your body began to tremble. So close to falling apart. “Nngh— Toji, ‘m so close.” You were right there at the edge, letting out a short scream when he reached down to rub at your clit.

“Yeah? Gonna cum f’ me doll? That’s it.. look at that.” He grunted, watching your eyes roll back with the blissful chant of his name. “It’s too bad i said you wouldn’t cum.”

You whined loudly when he slipped out of you, your hips bucking up towards him as your orgasm died down, adjusting to the new found emptiness. “You’re so mean Toji.”

He swiped his finger along your puffy lips. “I know. Now let’s try this again shall we?”

[bunny-jpeg]

sibling situation

simon 'ghost' riley

cw: smut & plot, mactavish!reader, size kink/difference, missionary sex, unprotected sex, marriage & babies (at the end), romance, simon's found family

this rabbit runs on reblogs & comments! feed the rabbit!

simon knew that johnny had a sister. you had been brought up in conversation tons of times. after the death of your parents, you and johnny were really all each other had. but johnny left for the military right before turning eighteen and you struggled to put yourself through university. it wasn't the easiest life and simon could understand, he had his own scars of his childhood.

"so, why are you dragging me out here again, johnny?"

"get ya out of that shoe box flat. got a little more leg room where i am."

johnny had driven the car all the way to edinburgh with a promise that a little time away would do wonders for the other man. simon had his ear talked off about how london was just too big, and while edinburgh was a city. it would be a break from the intense metropolitan of london. if need be the two of them and you could go on a getaway to the countryside.

"this better be good, johnny."

"ah, don't worry! i promise, you'll have the time of your life!" johnny reached over and slapped his friend on the back, "plus, you have to meet my sister."

the flat that you shared with johnny was well kept. of course it was, your brother was out most of the year with an automatic deposit for rent and when he was home, it was so ingrained with the military that things were kept tidy. and you on the other hand enjoyed tidiness as well.

even if cleaning the place in his absence felt a bit much sometimes, you still at least picked up your socks off the floor, put the clean dishes in the cupboard and washed out the carafe of the coffee maker. but you had worked over time to make sure everything was perfect, not for your brother (he could clean himself), but rather the mysterious guest that he was bringing.

you didn't want his lieutenant to think you lived like animals!

when the knock on the front door came, you happily welcomed them. your gaze was captured away from your grinning brother and rather the larger man beside him. he wore a black medical face mark, but you could see the tiredness in his eyes. the mop of blond hair and a slight scar over his eyebrow.

"oh, kid, this simon. simon riley, my lt." johnny smiled, patting his fellow solider on the arm.

you shot him a glance, "i'm almost thirty, johnny. i'm far from a kid." you were a bite fiery, simon liked that.

johnny beamed back at you, "but you'll always be my little sister. gotten into trouble while i was gone?"

you let both men in and replied, "well except for yelling at those stupid kids from the secondary school about smoking in front of my window. nothing else really happened."

johnny dropped his bags on the hardwood floor and kicked off his boots. he put them correctly by the door before he stretched his arms over his head, "where's that guy you were seein'. teddy or somethin'?"

simon stood a little straighter. of course you had a boyfriend, look at you!

you waved your hand, "oh, he's long gone. i guess cousin nikki's words are true." you looked at your brother, "never date a man in finance. turns out he had more than one bonnie in his pocket."

johnny dropped his shoulders and remarked, "never liked the guy anyway. seemed a little uptight, would never survive a gathering of the mactavish's." he laughed.

simon felt odd in the space. seeing the siblings interacting. he thought of his own brother for a moment. instead he just followed suit and took off his heavy boots as well.

you looked at simon, "i hope it's okay that you take the couch. this place is only two bedrooms. the couch." you gestured to it, "does pull out so hopefully you'll have enough room. but, if you don't, tomorrow my lovely brother can give up his room."

"my room!" johnny replied loudly, "i've still got sand in my crack for the mission and you're givin' my room!"

you shot your brother a glance which johnny coward from. no words had to be said. johnny knew that it would be the right thing to do. after all, simon was his guest.

the afternoon went by slowly, and you and johnny moved through the small kitchen like a team. johnny was good at dicing and you were good at keeping an eye on the sauteeing vegetables.

"simon." you said which made simon look up from his spot at the small dining table. your eyes met and you pushed some hair out of your face, "two things. one, there should be a headband on the table it's soft and used for make-up. i need to get this hair out of my eyes. secondly, johnny never said that you had any dietary issues. is there anything i should avoid? i just sort of got our normal grocery order."

simon perked a little bit more, "oh i don't have any allergies or anything, ma'am." he gave a small nod, "i could eat anythin'."

you nodded, "okay, excellent!"

the blond found in endearing. it was almost hypnotic watching you put together the vegetables with the hearty pasta sauce. you worked a stove top like no other. the only problem was that your brother kept getting in the way of his sight of you.

been a while since a woman cooked him a meal.

simon got up quickly and gave you the headband. it was soft and pink colour with two sewn on cat ears made of the same material. you put it on and simon's heart skipped a beat. you were just so beautiful.

dinner of pasta, toasted buns and salad were served with a bottle of grocery store wine. the three of you drank, ate and chatted. you and johnny had most of the conversation while simon enjoyed listening.

he figured out that he could listen to you talk forever.

"well, i'm tired." johnny said as he rubbed his eyes. he finished the rest of his wine before he got up. he patted you on the top of the head, "i'll do the dishes in the mornin'. thanks for dinner, kid."

you rolled your eyes, pouring yourself another glass, "i'm not a kid."

johnny chuckled then looked to simon, "she'll get ya comfortable for the evenin'. i'll see ya tomorrow." before his tired steps headed towards the bedroom. soon the door closed and the sound of his body hitting the bed could be softly heard.

you leaned back in the kitchen chair, one leg draped over the other with your arms crossed. you admitted, "it must be hard to date. finding someone who understands your world."

simon stretched out a little more in his chair. he eyed the empty wine glass in front of him, "i try not to think about it so hard."

"i've heard stories about you. the terrifying ghost. there one moment, gone the next." you then reached across the table to drag a finger down the inside of simon's wrist, "i wonder if i had you in my bed tonight, if you'd be gone by morning."

your admission made simon's dark eyes grow a little wider. he said, "well, i have nowhere else to go."

you smiled a little, "must be lonely. i know it's lonely for me. to feel close to someone."

simon asked, "do you want to sleep with me miss mactavish?"

you chuckled lowly, as to not awake your brother in his room. you leaned back a little once more and gazed at him. you were definitely johnny's brother. the look in your eye said it all. you tilted your head a little to the side and asked, "is it that obvious, mister riley?"

the sound of wooden chairs against the floor as the two of you made your way to the bedroom. you took simon by his tattooed wrist and got him into your room. the door was shut a little louder than you hoped. you turned on the light and simon was already working the belt of his jeans.

you were quick to get your t-shirt off and you saw simon's hungry gaze on you as you became free of your clothes. his eyes raked the exposed skin and thought you looked like a dream.

"like what you see, simon?"

he nodded, "more beautiful than the photos, ma'am."

you covered your mouth while you giggled, "no need for the formalities. if my brother is underranked by you, then i'm sure as hell as a civilian."

simon got a hold of your waist, "you deserve a little more respect than your brother." then pulled you in for a soft kiss. even with his scars that you had seen over dinner. you thought he was beautiful.

it made you warm all over as you pulled the dark t-shirt on his shoulders. he helped you get out of it. and your hands pressed against his chest. you admired the scars, the tattoos, the overall beauty of him.

"i wish my brother had said his lt was hot prior. i would've tried to get with you sooner."

simon picked you up by the waist, your legs wrapped around his waist as he brought you to the bed and sat you down. he then started to work at the button of your jeans. once they were off, he cupped the bulge in his pants.

you slipped out of your simple purple panties and the white bra you wore. you then laid out on your bed with your hands behind your head and you giggled softly.

simon was absolutely smitten by you. he had come to the conclusion that when they were talking about the beauties in scotland. they meant you. and only you. once you were both naked, he got onto the bed.

the bed was a bit smaller than he had hoped, but you two could fit into it thankfully. he was worried that his large, bulkier frame would inch you off of the mattress. but it was a lot easier when he got between your legs. his achy erection, bright red at the tip, begged for attention.

you swallowed a little, "i wonder if it'll fit."

"then you tell me if it does. got it? you mactavish's have a habit of not showing pain." simon gave you a pointed gaze.

you covered your face for a minute, "okay. talk about my brother ends here. i don't want to hear about him while you're balls deep inside of me."

simon chuckled lightly and leaned in for another kiss. he said softly, close to your lips, "if it's anything, love. you're much more a looker than he is."

you held onto his blond locks and pulled him in for a hot kiss. you made a small noise when he shifted your hips up against him. to get a better angle of his cock inside of you.

"simon."

he said softly, his voice still gravely, "beautiful, beautiful girl. i don't know what that last boyfriend of yours was thinkin'. why want another when he could have you. but, i guess that means more for me."

your cheeks grew hot and simon pressed his cock up against you wet slit. you felt your heartbeat race at the anticipation of what was to come. you tensed up at the feeling of his cock being pushed into it.

"i got ya, i got ya. you feel so good there, love."

you nodded, "it's been a while. sorry if i'm too.. tight."

simon loomed over you like a comforting shadow. he gazed down at you, but there was a softness to his tired eyes. you didn't realize how pretty his eyes were. a deep dark brown, that lured you in while in the soft lighting of your bedroom.

he started to move against you and you let out a small moan. the bed squeaked a little bit. thankfully the frame didn't hit the wall. you two had to be somewhat quiet. even if your brother could be heard snoring in the room next to yours.

the sex between you two was quick, but not rough. the idea of bruising such a beauty made simon feel disgusted. you were meant to be cherished. he wanted to know everything about you.

"you are quite handsome, simon."

"thank you, love." he said softly as he held onto your thighs and moved against you. even in missionary you looked beautiful. the slight bounce of your breasts in time with his movements. he wanted to kiss all your soft parts throughout his visit in your sweet home.

he could get used to a warm meal and a warm cunt to bury himself into every night. maybe johnny was right, staying with you was better than being in london.

maybe he could get used to scotland.

he knew he could fit easily into the chaos of the mactavish family. if he could handle johnny, then he could handle you. at least he could fuck one of you quiet.

you felt your heart hammering at the feeling of it all. your noises were so sweet that it made simon need to bury himself deeper inside of you. he needed to feel all you could offer.

call him a sick puppy, but his brain was now wired to need you. you were a hit of a feeling that simon was so painfully unfamiliar with that it almost scared him. but as he admired the sight of you under him.

those soft lips partially opened, your eyes closed. you looked like an angel, and he swore he found heaven.

"beautiful." he said softly, his rugged voice made you feel like honey. gooey and warm, filling.

you came with your hands in his shaggy blond hair. your back arched as you felt the heat through you. you moaned a little louder than you hoped for as he continued to thrust up into you.

panting breaths between heavy thrusts as you laid spread out on the bed, letting simon move quicken his pace to reach his climax. he could feel it on the tip of his tongue. and with a few more heavy thrusts, he finished inside of you. his cheeks flushed and his mouth hung open in a heavy pant.

"fuck, simon."

"beautiful." he said absently. not able to think of much else besides your beauty. you were the kind of woman that simon was into.

he pulled out of you and rested down beside you on bed. you chuckled softly, your head still a little full of post orgasmic bliss. you got the covers on top of you and cuddled him naked.

clothed would be a worry in the morning.

when morning came, simon tried to slink back to the couch before johnny woke up. but when he exited your room and entered the main living space. he found johnny sitting there at the kitchen table. he was leaned back into his seat. simon caught sight of the pistol on the worn wooden table.

"so, si." johnny said, looking away from his paper to look at his fellow solider, "what are yer intentions with my sister?"

it had been a very long time since simon felt the stone of dread in his stomach. he tried not to show it across his scarred face. simon could instantly recall every military statistic that johnny had. there could be a million and one ways that the scottish solider could kill simon. and it wasn't like simon could do anything, he couldn't kill your brother.

there was a brief moment of silence between the two of them. neither made a motion or noise. simon wondered what was to come next. no amount of training could've prepared him for this.

but johnny broke the silence with laughter, "i'm just messin' with ya! the gun's not even loaded. just wanted to scare ya." he leaned forward in his seat. he looked at simon, "i don't care how my sister sees, but i have to be a little bit intimidating, don't ya think so, si?"

simon chuckled nervously.

johnny's suddenly expression dropped and he put down his paper in favour of the unloaded pistol. he pointed the front of it to simon, one eye closed as if he was going to shoot the blond in front of him. he said, "but if you break her heart there, simon. i won't be so forgiving."

the doorway to your bedroom opened with a loud creak and your voice rang through the apartment the three of you were in, "I swear to god! john michael mactavish! you better not be intimidating him!"

-

"you're seriously crying?" you asked your brother as you watched him gently take a hold of your newborn. your brother was a military man for christ's sake. he was weeping like a baby.

simon loomed over his colleague, protective over his newborn. his stern brown gaze read simply, "don't fuck it up, soap." he was ready to jump in if johnny fucked it up.

you were resting back in the hospital room, you just had your child with simon. you two had been married for a little over three years. it became habit for simon to come with johnny post-missions. the drive up to the city and you waiting for them.

a hug for your brother, a kiss for your lover.

now you were watching your brother cry at the sight of his nephew. the chubby little boy bundled up in a blanket. unaware of his weepy uncle. you looked at him with a slightyl stunned expression.

you probably cried less when you finally pushed him out. you didn't want to tell him the news because you thought he was going to cry more. while your son's first name was oliver, his middle name was john. after the crying mactavish in the hospital room.

"he really takes after us." john remarked when his cries died down.

you chuckled, "he sure does, johnny. now hand him over before you drop him." <3

[lovegasmic]

 THE BEAST

⋆ wriothesley + fem!reader

( girl u in jail what did you doooo? /j it's not mentioned you probably stole a fonta idk )

⋆ mdni. heat cycles, knotting, praising, he fucks u hard rip that pussy. pet names: good girl, baby. reposting the fic I'm most proud of.

"you shouldn't be here"

"if you hate me that bad then…"

there's a chuckle resonating through the walls, metal rings around fingerless gloves clicking against the metal railing as the Duke makes his way down the stairs and next to you.

still at your side the man was a couple inches taller than yourself, bringing a slight feeling of nervousness around your body, or perhaps it was a natural response to the 'tiny' crush you had on him.

"your imprisonment is over, you're free to leave this place" Wriothesley mentions, arms crossed, eyebrows furrowing with a hint of scolding in his words to which you only shrug in return.

"i like to help Sigewinne in the infirmary" that wasn't a complete lie, but part of the reason for your continuous presence in such a place was due to the dark haired man currently standing next to you, whose presence was enough to get your knees weak and heart pumping wildly.

"mhm, I don't believe you" he mentions dully, fingers rubbing on the bridge of his nose yet his lips held a small smile on them, "I just wanted you to know I'll be out for a couple of days, a week at max"

"what?" you let out a high pitched sound, even though his erratic schedule wasn't news for anyone around, a week was far longer than any of his other absences.

"don't worry, Clorinde will drop by to check everything is in order" you stiff a huff, if anything, you weren't to admit the prison was the least of your worries.

"take care" was the only thing you managed to say. his hand felt heavy on your shoulder once he replied with a soft "you too"

a day passed and you already felt as if your 'not' lover left for war. the fortress remained the same as well as your usual activities at the infirmary, but the emptiness Wriothesley left alongside the usual meetings for tea and having lunch at the cafeteria started to burden.

but, on the other hand, a sense of pride bloomed in your chest since many of the guards went to find you and ask for advice regarding the fortress, quoting to their own sentences, you were the one his grace trusted the most.

"I am very sorry to bother you miss" one of the man said, "but since the Duke is out and miss Clorinde is still left to come back we decided it will be the best if you knew beforehand" strange rumors started to raise ever since Wriothesley left, some kind of 'beast' was heard from one of the pipes, and even though many guards already searched for clues, nothing was found.

"it's fine" you sighed, "please warn everyone to stay away from that place, at least until this issue gets fixed.

"it will be alright" Sigewinne smiles your way, trying to get your nerves on check while bandaging a man's scratched forearm, a match just took place due to the sudden influx of injured men, luckily no one was in mortal danger, but it was enough to keep you busy until your work hour was over.

but you should have expected that what the guard mentioned earlier was to keep you awake all night, to drag you out of bed and sneak past whoever was on patrol duty that night.

the mentioned zone was clear, no guards or prisoners looking for a challenge with an unknown danger, but especially, no sound besides the occasional water drop hitting a puddle on the floor.

another thing was the cool and smooth metal panels covering the walls, where your fingers slid trying to find any clue, knuckles hitting the material and ear pressed to find any possible hollow area.

and for what it felt like an eternity later, you heard a soft growl from behind the wall, right where your ear was pressed against.

you gasped by consequence, failing to stiff the sound so whatever was on the other side didn't hear you.

apparently, it did, since the growling stopped completely at the same time your back turned to flee and warn anyone nearby, as soon as your foot took a step, a hand covered your mouth and dragged you into some kind of dim lighted room before the door closed right in front of you, it was rough and calloused, and you could've had recognized it in the spot if it weren't because of the fear surrounding your whole body and freezing you in place.

"calm down" a voice rasps in your ear, an incredible mix of emotions running through your body in just a couple of seconds, starting with confusion since you were certain that was Wriothesley 's voice, passing to worry as to why is he in such place and lastly, flustering at the feeling of something poking on your lower back, his arms and chest warm and bare against your body.

"Wriothesley…" you pant once his hand leaves your mouth, "what is going on?"

he exhales heavily, letting you free from his embrace way too quickly for your liking, but allowing your eyes to take in his scar covered chest, drops of sweat dripping down his forehead and dampening the dark fabric of his half buttoned pants, and oh… he was hard. painfully you might add with how his trousers seemed to be about to burst.

"I'm sorry, I should have told you sooner" he starts and you think it should be you apologizing for thinking lewdly of him, "but you have to go"

"what?"

"it's not safe for you to be here" the man grits his teeth, backing up until the back of his knees touch a bed you failed to notice before, sitting on it with no care while his hands are in fists, tight enough to turn his knuckles white.

the threatening growl from man makes you flinch slightly, yet that doesn't stop you from taking a step closer, bared teeth with a single fang peeking from his bottom lip that buries in the lower until a single bead of blood pops up.

"tell me what's going on" you whisper in a slightly demanding tone, your relationship was close enough to mess and joke around, but watching him in this situation, and that he was so hesitant to speak broke your heart.

"i—" he swallows hard when you're close enough to smell your scent, a brief and almost imperceptible hint of arousal clouding his brain and stealing a hiss against his will.

unaware of the situation, thinking Wriothesley is in serious pain, you decide to rest a hand at the top of his shoulder, a friendly motion he often did with you but now, he just wanted to pull you by that hand and kiss you until you ran out of breath.

"I..." he starts again, gently holding your wrist and bringing it up to his mouth, smiling when you shiver visibly, "I go through heats, once every a couple of months"

"oh"

he chuckles, warm and genuine, raising his head to observe your expression, leaving you with shaky knees, his bright blue eyes a tone darker, hair damp and messy, inviting you to thread your fingers on it and kiss him stupid.

"that's why you're not safe here" the Duke whispers, still with his lips against your growing pulse, "I've been dying to rip your clothes off ever since I saw you, now it feels like I'd definitely die if I don't touch you in the next five minutes"

you gasp, surprised and turned on before replying, "make it one" and in the blink of an eye you're kissing him, hard and desperate while your body melts against his, pliantly letting him drag you down and sit you in his strong thigh where you're quick to grinding against, sloppily like the kisses you share.

"fuck" he growls and you moan, allowing his tongue to slip past your mouth while his thumbs press tight on your jaw, opening for a better reach while you can only take it and claw onto his nape.

his knee bucks up in a steady rhythm, one of his hands sneaking below your skirt, all the way up from your bare thighs to your soaked panties, "you're wet, I can smell it"

a pained moan escapes your lips, face burning in embarrassment but the look on his face is rewarding enough, pupils blown out, lips red and puffy letting out breathy exhalations. you barely get enough time to observe him before your eyes shut unconsciously at the feeling of a pair of rough fingers coming in contact with your clit through the flimsy underwear fabric.

"can I… please…?"

"yeah" you gasp, earning a whine from the man right onto your neck where he's nibbling, quickly getting rid of your skirt and half ripping your panties in the process, his pants get undone next, enough to fit his cock between your dripping folds flicking your clit with the engorged cockhead before pressing into your tight cunt.

he's big, bigger than you had imagined during sleepless nights of you touching yourself, but you're incredibly wet and doing your absolute best in taking a fat cock.

"oh fuck…!" you mewl, pressing your chin to the side of his head while Wriothesley continues to bite on your shoulder, careful not to pierce the skin as his hands find place on your hips, busy pushing your body down to take him whole.

"take it" he exhales, "I know you can take it, baby" and you whimper at the praise, thighs shaking from the stretch. his breath is hot against your collarbone, hips rolling forward that causes his cock to rub against the firm spot inside your cunt that leaves you limp, tugging your shirt from above your head so his hands freely get to palm at your tits once he's fully bottomed out, giving you a moment to adjust while he plays with your nipples.

"there we go" Wriothesley pants, hips snapping forward to fuck you deep, clutching onto the back of your head next to press his mouth against yours, bouncing your body up and down his cock in increasing speed.

"shit, shit!" Wriothesley groans, hips stuttering before stopping almost completely in what felt an attempt of self control, his tip coating your insides with immense amounts of precum, making you wonder just how much cum he actually held in those heavy balls that smacked against your ass in loud papping sounds.

"Wrio, you don't have to hold back" you whine through bitten lips, cupping his cheeks between your hands. and the moment where Wriothesley snaps will get forever burnt in your brain, starting from the deep rumbling groan, the twitch of his cock messily ruining your inside with hard precise thrusts, to the sudden movement of your whole body where he pins you down in bed, face down against the pillow with his hand pushing between your shoulder blades, ass up, face down while he successfully mounts you from behind.

his fat cock glides easily past your tight entrance, soaked in slick at the same time his thumb finds a place between your teeth, rubbing on your tongue the tangy taste of your slick.

"stay still" he grunts, dropping his forehead down between your shoulder blades while feeding your pussy the rest of his cock, "you smell so fucking good" Wriothesley is a mess of grunts and hisses, spreading out your ass cheeks to fit in properly inside your tight cunt, loving how the squelching sound comes louder in this position.

"too deep!" you scream, thighs shaking from the forcefully stretch of your walls around his cock.

"it's okay" he slurs, fingers pressing on your forehead to push you head up and kiss your temple, yet his hips continue to piston inside of you, dragging in your body with his on top of the mattress, his knees on each side of your thighs to perfectly fuck into you, driving his tip almost at your cervix with each thrust, "I got you, you're fine"

"Wrio" you sob, "feels so good"

"I know, baby, in know" he chokes out, eyes closed shut while pants escape freely between skin slapping, "you take it so good, my good girl, all mine"

"o-oh!" you whine, "Wrio please, you're so big, oh my god"

"don't say that" he grits, hips stuttering and pushing onto your waist so he gets to reach in much deeper than before, "I'm going to come soon"

"ngh" you moan, toes curling and pussy clenching.

"can I knot you?"

"yes" you reply way too quickly, digging your nails onto the sheets, pillow drenched from sweat and tears, "yes, please"

Wriothesley moans like a wounded animal, fucking you like one too with his hands on your head, pushing you down as if to submit you to him.

you can feel him twitching again, cunt fluttering in sync, clenching and begging to be filled with a scream of your own while you cum all over his cock, gasping loudly when his knot begins to push past your tight entrance.

"W-Wrio—" you sob.

"yes, I'm here, it's alright you can take it" he thumbs your clit, helping you ride out your high while his knot gets snuggled inside your cunt, digging his nails on the skin of your thighs while rutting into you, long and thick spurts of cum coating your walls.

"fuckin' perfect pussy, taking all of my cum" he groans, panting loudly and jerking his hips until every single drop of cum is stuffing your hole.

"are you alright?" he asks once you've calmed down, turning your body around to let you cuddle against his broad chest.

"yeah" you sniffle, overwhelmed.

"I forgot to ask how did you find me" the man grins, rubbing his cheek against the top of your head.

"people heard you growling like a beast" you sniffle again.

"... what?"

and you should have told him earlier, since you were certain now people might think that said beast was just some horny dog.

[crushmeeren]

any thoughts about how touya would eat you out? i cannot stop thinking about his tongue piercing..

Nor can I, friend, nor can I. /ᐠ - ˕ -マ

Master List Link

⋆｡ ﾟ ☁︎｡ ⋆ FEM READER ｡ ﾟ ☾ ﾟ ｡⋆ ｡

Touya is very…. talented when it comes to eating pussy, to say the least.

He’s had a lot of time to kill over the years. Seeing as how nobody knew he was alive after he essentially became his Father’s human sacrifice to whatever deity he believed would grant his delusional dreams of having a child with the perfect quirk to surpass the number one hero.

But he digresses…..

Needless to say, Touya has had a lot of sex. Men and women alike, but he’d confess that he just gets this….thrill, eating pussy. Women are always, without exception, so soft, so fucking warm, and his cock never fails to fill out thickly when he so much as pictures the sweet, high pitched whines he coaxes from them.

And so, it’s really no different now that he’s dating you. He can come to you whenever he craves it, whenever his mouth starts to fill with saliva when he daydreams about eating you out.

Currently, Touya’s got your ass at the edge of, what used to be, a gaming chair. It’s comfortable enough, and Touya likes it when you gawk at him while he flicks his tongue against your clit in a way that you can feel in your fucking toes.

He pushes your thighs as wide as they can go, until your muscles burn, and his searing tongue parts your lips with a few upward dragging motions. Heat blisters up your spine.

“Touya!” Your voice pitches higher, and his name gets caught in your throat when the flat of his tongue creeps up along your clit, the barest hint of that metallic ball of jewelry kissing your skin before he leans back.

“What baby?” He coos condescendingly, pretty blue eyes halfway shut as he peers up at you from where he sits on his knees on the floor. He’s naked too, and he looks so hot you can’t stand it. “My ring feels so good on your pussy, yeah? You want me to heat it up?” His voice is an insufferable amount of husky and you clench around nothing. You nod eagerly.

“Then fucking say it, whore,” he snarls, palms heating dangerously on your inner thighs.

You lace your fingers through his snowy white hair with a gasp, yanking violently as you toss your head back until he moans in the back of his throat.

“Yes! Heat it up, please. It’s so good Touya,” you plead, eyes flashing open to stare down at him again. Your gaze trails the movement of his fingers as he circles his cock and jerks himself off lazily.

“So you’re not that fucking stupid after all, good girl.”

Then, Touya is moving forward with fervor. He centers that devilish tongue ring on your clit and draws steady, unrelenting circles until your thighs start to twitch. The metal is heated to the point it teeters on this side of white hot pain, and you fucking love it.

The corners of Touya’s mouth curl upward in a sly smile, tongue still swirling firmly, and his pupils are dilated wildly, making him seem manic. He pulls your clit between his lips and sucks gently. The muscles in your lower stomach tighten and all of a sudden you’re about to cum.

You cry out to him, begging him, and he drags the pad of his thumb from his free hand over your pussy before slipping two fingers inside with zero effort.

He doesn’t relent the rhythmic sucking with his lips, flicking his tongue occasionally. The rough texture of his bottom lip adds to the whirlwind of sensations and he pumps his fingers unhurriedly, curling them each time. Your pussy clings to him like it never wants to let go.

Stars are bursting behind your eyelids when you cum, mouth dropped open in a silent scream as your entire body tenses up. Touya works you through it mercilessly until you’ve deflated in the chair, releasing his hair.

He pulls away with a Cheshire grin, lips shiny and Touya decides to leave his fingers inside you for the time being.

“You’re gonna cum for me again, pretty little whore, and then I’ll let you sit on my fucking cock like I know you’re drooling to do.”

You agree easily and, in the end, Touya has to put you on your back because your legs are too much like jelly to ride him.

[msgexymunson]

Benefits

Description: Your best friend Eddie starts to look very appealing to you, but if you suggest a dynamic change, will he go for it?

Warnings: NSFW, Minors DNI, AFAB reader, weed smoking, virgin Eddie x virgin reader, grinding, fingering, fem oral receiving.

A/N: I just wanted to write a little goofy, not so confident Eddie and this poured out of my brain hole. Enjoy! Reblogs and comments keep me alive so please for the love of all that is smutty reblog if you enjoy it! 

5k words

Masterlist

“All I'm saying is…” you take a big pull of the joint Eddie wiggles at you, his rough fingers brushing your lips. Your voice comes out croaky as hell when you speak, holding the smoke in, “...you can't do the voice.” 

The film plays quietly in the background as you both hang out on his couch, paying little attention to it. 

Eddie scoffs at you, taking the smoke back, and takes a big lug of it himself, hand coming to rest on your bare ankle that was thrown casually over his lap. 

“What you trying to say? You know I can do voices. I could totally do Vader.” 

Giggling, you wiggle your feet as he lightly drags his fingers over them. 

“Don't do that, you know it tickles!” 

Holding his hands up and away from you, you almost miss the contact. Which was insane. This is Eddie, for fucks sake. Your best friend. The asshole who made you nearly piss your pants in seventh grade from tickling too hard, who does stupid shit to get you to smile when you're sad. 

Recently though, the little lingering touches he gives you make your toes curl. Those glances that last a little too long for best friends, the drag of his hand on your back when you move through a crowd. It was crazy, but a part of you couldn't help but think he was feeling the same way. It wasn't like you were in love with the guy, at least not like that. He was almost family. Which made the feelings that you were having sinful in a way that made your thighs clench. 

The flirting didn't help. Eddie flirted as naturally as breathing. He was just so goddamn charming; he had chemistry with everyone. Which made it even more awkward. What if your salacious thoughts weren't reciprocated? Maybe it was just your raging hormones and you needed to keep them in check before you lose your best friend. 

“You're wrong you know.” 

Eddie's words bring you out of the daze you've been falling into; you blink at him, confused. 

“Huh?” 

Eddie rolls his eyes, and flashes you a smirk that does nothing to quench the fire inside, right when his large hands move to your waist and tickle you relentlessly. You're gasping giggles as he pins your hands over your head, full weight pressing into you. Somehow, he's got his narrow hips in between your thighs, which is definitely not helping the situation. 

“I can totally do the voice, see?” He drops it two octaves, letting a deep bass voice flow out of him, “Luke, I am your father.” 

Fuck, that shouldn't turn you on, but it did. That, and his forced proximity has you feeling uncomfortably wet. It's embarrassingly seeping into your panties; so much so that you cringe at your body's betrayal. 

He's just so damn close. So close, that you see something fluttering behind those brandy wine eyes of his. Or, was it merely your imagination?

Only one way to find out. 

Biting your lip, you flutter your eyelashes softly and speak in the sexiest voice you can.

“Does that mean I should call you Daddy?” 

Eddie's mouth drops open in a perfect O, eyebrows knitted. 

“You can't- you just- fuck!” 

He clambers off of you in an attempt to put some space between you, crossing his legs on the couch. Eddie looks flustered, cheeks burning red as he looks at you like you just grew an extra head. 

“I can't what, Eddie? Can't tease you like you tease me?” 

“Huh? I don't tease you! When did I-” 

“Oh, pinning me down don't count, huh?” 

Crossing your arms over your chest, you watch as he blows air out, grabbing a cushion and ramming it in his lap. 

“I didn't mean it like that, it's just, I dunno.” 

Looking down at his hands, he fiddles with his rings. The sheepishness he's showing is adorable, and so unlike him that it stops you in your tracks. Maybe you should just go easy on him, just a little. 

“Don't worry about it Eds, I'm just fucking around.” 

There's a bit of tension released from his shoulders, but he's still not looking at you. 

Fuck, you need another smoke. 

“You want me to roll?” 

“Hell no, I've seen you roll.” 

Scrunching your nose in fake anger, he laughs at you. 

“Look like a little chipmunk when you do that.” 

“All I hear is that you think I'm adorable.” You giggle as he mockingly rolls his eyes. 

“OK, you roll, I'll grab some sodas.” 

Getting up, you smooth your skirt down and walk over to the fridge. The cans are on the lower shelf, so you bend to grab two, making a mental note to tell Eddie to buy some more. 

When you look back, Eddie's slid to the floor, rolling paraphernalia spread out in front of him. It would be a normal scene, if he didn't still have the cushion wedged in his lap and his face wasn't glowing redder than your underwear. 

Underwear… underwear that he might have seen, since you just bent over. And the only reason why he'd keep that cushion in his lap is if he… 

Oh. 

Wordlessly, you put the soda next to his elbow and scoot up on the couch, entirely unsure about what you're supposed to do in a situation like this. The furthest you've ever gone is some over the clothes stuff. 

Plus, this is Eddie. Your stupid, asshole, mean, tormenting, breathtakingly gorgeous best friend. You curse, wriggling a little in your seat. Your panties are so damp they're practically glued to your privates, a heat emanating from you that's making your insides burn. 

“Milady.” 

Eddie holds the joint to you, perfectly rolled and more surprisingly, unlit.

“Eddie, you always take the first toke. Rollers rights, remember?” 

He shrugs and passes it anyway, giving you the lighter too, as he lifts himself onto the couch with both hands, letting his cushion shield drop briefly. Long enough to see the tightness in the crotch of his pants. 

Now the feel of your slick is dampening your thighs. Pushing them together as tight as you can, willing the feeling to dissipate, you light it with trembling hands. One puff, two puffs, pass. As his fingers graze yours, he looks at you appraisingly.

“You alright there sweetheart? Not comfy?” 

Nothings gonna happen if you just sit here and whine like a bitch in your head. Take the leap. 

“It's a little, er, embarrassing.” 

Knees squeezing together so hard it's bordering on painful, you look up at him through your lashes. Eddie's eyes are wide and warm, a light smile wrinkling them at the corners softly. 

“It's only me, come on. You can tell me anything.”

Huffing and wriggling some more, you watch him inhale smoke, and blow it out, a slight pout to his mouth that makes you want to pepper it with soft kisses. Then hard kisses. Then, other stuff. Fuck. 

“It's not- we don't, talk about this kinda stuff. I don't wanna… cross a line, you know?”

“Hey, it's alright.” His thick fingers shakily touch your knee, thumb rubbing back and forth. You're not sure if it calms you or makes you worse. It could be both. 

“Fine. Just, don't look at me when I tell you this, ‘kay?” 

There's a little laugh from him, then he rests his head on the back of the couch, eyes staring resolutely to the ceiling. 

“Alright weirdo I'm not looking. Shoot.” 

Tightening your knuckles, your face creases with the effort as you let fly the words that may well end your friendship. 

“I'm uncomfortable, I'm just- fuck, I'm really wet, OK?”

Of all the things you could say, you know Eddie was not expecting you to say that. Especially when he blushes profusely and his grip tightens hard on the cushion in his lap. True to his word, his gaze is directed firmly on the ceiling. 

“That's really-” His voice is broken; squeaky and boyish. He coughs and it comes out much lower, almost comically so. “That's, er, interesting.” 

You can't help it. A crazy laugh shoots out of your throat. An insane laugh. A mental institution laugh. It seems fitting for the situation. Here you are, on Eddie fucking Munson’s couch, telling him how wet you are? You've finally lost it. 

He laughs with you, helping to diffuse some of the awkward energy filling the room.

“Sorry Eddie. It just feels a bit, surreal, you know?” 

Eddie risks a look at you when he hands the joint back. You both stare at each other, each wishing to read the other's mind. 

Remember who you're talking to. This is Eddie. You can talk to him about anything. 

“Listen, Eddie, this is way out of fucking left field but I'm gonna say it. Have you like, done stuff, before?” 

Taking the biggest inhale you can risk without swallowing the roach, you pass the smoke back. There's a very slight shake to Eddie's hand. For some reason it gives you a bit more confidence. His voice wobbles more dramatically than you've ever heard.

“You mean like, sexual, stuff?” 

He finishes the smoke and stubs it out, glancing at you. There's a heat in his eyes that you're not used to seeing. 

“Y-yeah, I mean, honest truth? I've only done over the clothes stuff. Nothing more than that. And you?” 

Eddie coughs, puffing his chest out a little in full man-mode.

“I mean, yeah sure, a bit more than that, you know.” 

You do know. You know by the way he worded that, he's at least not gotten past third base. 

“You're a virgin too then.” 

“Hey!” He huffs, turning to you, “I'm like, way less of a virgin than you are!” 

You laugh loudly, knocking his arm with your fist. 

“Doesn't make you less of a virgin, you idiot.” 

He laughs, shaking his head. 

“Suppose you're right. Some hook-ups ‘round the back of The Hideout don't count for much.”

Reaching for his hand, you brush his knuckles with tentative fingers. 

“Eddie, what I'm trying to say is, well maybe- we could help each other out? I'm a bit… frustrated, and so are you. You know?” 

He squirms a little, recoiling from your touch. 

“What makes you think I'm frustrated?” 

“Eddie, I'm not a fucking idiot. I know why you're grabbing that cushion.” 

He laughs, his special fake laugh he reserves for awkward occasions. That is, until you grab the cushion from his lap and throw it across the room.

He's hard, almost painfully so. It's pressing against his zipper in such a way that you know it must be uncomfortable. You take in a harsh breath as you look at his face. So many emotions seem to be fighting for dominance. Clear arousal, some confusion, a little bit of pity, maybe? Which is the last thing you want to see.

Maybe you were wrong.

“I'm saying that we can help each other. I'm attracted to you. I'm not declaring my love for you or anything. It's not like, some crazy confession. I'm just saying we could… relieve each other.”

“Oh.” His whole demeanour has shifted at your words, “so you don't like, love me, or anything?” 

“Eddie, you are so fucking stupid. Of course I love you, you're my best friend. Just not like that. I mean, I kinda want you to… touch me places, don't mean I want your hand in marriage!” 

His chuckle rings against the tinny walls of the trailer. Then, he looks at you, really looks at you. Biting his lip, he walks his hands toward you, stopping just shy of your constricted knees. 

“Glad you said that. I didn't know how to say that I kinda… well, that I like you, that way, but not like… man, you said it better.” 

And just like that, your Eddie was back. It wasn't weird, far from it. After the way you'd been acting around each other for years, it just made sense. 

You both smile at each other. A genuine, familiar smile. One that hurts your cheeks, that makes your chest fill with warmth. 

“I know this is like, super weird, but it might help, you know?” 

Eddie crawls further towards you, palms splayed on your knees. The simple touch has you quivering. 

“What if it's too weird? I don't want this to ruin our friendship.” 

You smile softly, and unclench your thighs slightly, knees spreading. Enough to make his eyes dart down to your core and back up, laced with want. 

“Tell you what Eds. Kiss me.” 

“And how is that gonna help?”

You laugh, beckoning him forwards. As if on a string, he leans toward you, his rough hands grazing the tops of your thighs. You try to disguise the gasp it elicits from you, but it doesn't seem necessary. Eddie's breathing hard, hard enough to hide any impromptu noises from you. 

“Just kiss me Eddie. If it's weird and gross, we'll laugh about it. If it's, erm, better than that… well, then we can maybe take it a little further.”

Eddie leans in more, hovering over you as your head rests naturally into the armrest. But he stops, inches from your face, hesitating. 

“I don't- shit, I don't know what to do!” 

Laughing loud, you reach out and twirl a section of his hair in your soft hands, adding definition to a curl. 

“Just, use a move on me. You know? Like I'm one of those girls at The Hideout. Come on.” 

He laughs, knuckles dragging over your cheek. 

“That's… this isn't the same. You're not like that ” 

“Fine, just- come on to me. Hit me with your best shot. Just, I dunno, just-”

The rest of your sentence dies on your tongue as he cradles your jaw and presses his full lips softly to yours. You don't know what you were expecting, but it certainly wasn't this. He holds your face almost delicately, tongue lapping gently at your lip until you allow him to slip it inside. 

It's a slow, deliberate thing, as if he's mapping out your mouth in case you never agree to do this again. Not that that's a danger to you. His tongue is burning hot; a slippery warm need, igniting the fire that was already smouldering within you. 

His form relaxes slightly, allowing his weight to drop. His chest falls onto yours, no doubt telling him of the heaving gasps you're taking. You couldn't find it in you to mind, not whilst he's prising your legs open with one knee, his thigh pressing against just where you need it most. 

A moan races out of your mouth and into his, muffled into his chasing tongue. The warmth between your legs is just getting worse, stoked by the pressure of his searching knee. Suddenly there's tension exactly where you need it, the coarse denim of his thigh rubbing hard against your throbbing nub. 

“Eddie, fuck!”

He smiles into your mouth as he pushes his leg harder, groans overtaking his mouth as you use it to chase your pleasure. 

His perfect mouth traces down your jaw, nipping and sucking at your flesh. His thick tongue lathing over your taut muscles, your tiny fingers grasping onto his arms almost pathetically. 

When he breaks away to look at you, eyes searching for doubts, you can't help but think how beautiful he looks. His hair's a little messier than usual, cheeks flushed pink, and those full lips look even plumper than before. 

“Sorry, should have checked in. Was that, alright? Not too weird?” 

You try to slow your breathing, but it's no use. It usually takes you a while to get there on your own, but you were so close to coming on Eddie's leg after a couple of minutes of making out it was almost shameful. 

“I'll say, jeez. I nearly- er, got carried away.” 

“Really?” Eddie's eyes seem to brighten as the corners of his mouth twitch up into a cheeky grin. 

“Don't let that get to your head! I'm just really… needy right now.” 

“Fuck,” he replies, adjusting his bulge, “right, carried away, you say?”

Before you can process what he's said he leaps up, grabs you by the waist and throws you over his shoulder. Your giggling squeals echo through the trailer, ringing out like the peals of a bell as he barges into his room and throws you on the bed. Laughing and red faced, with your skirt rucked up around your hips and your arms flung above your head, you notice Eddie's gaze shamelessly skimming to your panties. 

Shaking out of his bare faced revelry he jumps onto the bed next to you, eager as a kid at Christmas. He's on his side, a large hand roaming over your stomach, across your waist, down to your hips and skimming just under your thin sweater. 

“You want me to take this off?” You ask, tugging at the hem. 

“Oh, er- yeah, I-I mean if you- do you want to take it off?” 

Eddie bumbles through his words as you giggle at him, his usual confident demeanour evaporated at the thought of your body. 

“Eddie you dingus, you've literally seen me in my underwear before!” 

“Well, yeah… but that was before you, er, filled out.” 

It was a long time ago. A hot Summer spent running around the trailer park hitting each other with water balloons. You'd almost forgotten how far back it was.

“You don't have to be scared of my boobs ya know.” 

Eddie scoffs, hitting you playfully with a flick of his finger on the tip of your nose. You grab it, trying to bite it but he's pulling it away and you follow. It turns into yet another wrestling match as laughter rings from the pair of you. He tries to hold his hand up high but then you straddle him. 

Suddenly, his arm goes limp and you pull the offending digit into your mouth triumphantly, nibbling softly. It's then you realise you're straddling his stomach and he's completely lost, staring at the way your skirt is wrinkled. 

Play fight discarded, you shimmy down his body and revel in the little shaking breath Eddie makes as you sit gently on his crotch, the hardened bulge pressing into your clothed heat. 

“Fuck, you're so warm.” 

You blush as his fingers dig into your hips as if afraid you'll disappear. 

“You can feel that, through your jeans?” 

He chuckles low in his throat and the sound travels straight to your tummy, letting loose a cascade of butterflies. 

“Feel it? It's like a freaking furnace. Bet it'll feel amazing inside you.” 

It's just Eddie, running his mouth; in fact it seems he didn't mean to say that out loud judging by the look on his face. He always has an issue separating outside thoughts and inside thoughts. It was so casually spoken though, you don't think he realised just how dirty it sounded. 

Your fingers smooth up his stomach, feeling the muscles tense under the contact, pulling his shirt up with them. 

“Really hot when you say stuff like that.” 

You're embarrassed admitting it, but you're so turned on that he needs to know how much his words affect you. Mostly so he'll keep using them.

“Yeah?” 

“Hmm.” 

You're dragging nails over his abdomen, tugging his t-shirt higher and higher. He doesn't seem to mind, firm hands pulling your hips slowly back and forth. So you take a shot, and yank it up high. He gets the message, lifting his arms over his head so you can fling it off and away. 

There's no subtlety to the way he pulls at your top, sitting up to wrench it off you. He's panting, eyes raking over your red cotton bra as if you were in the finest lingerie. Then your lips crash together, desperately exploring each other's mouths, teeth clashing in urgency. You collapse on top of him as he holds your hip with one hand, guiding you over his hardness as the other palms your breast over your bra. 

That feeling is back, the burning tingling mass of arousal clutching your insides, growing and growing quicker than ever. You rut against him, each pass sending a zip of sensation all the way from your clit to the tips of your toes. 

Moaning in his mouth, you break away and he nips at your neck, rough fingers snaking into your bra to clumsily rub your nipple. You cling to his waist tightly as the feeling mounts, and mounts, and finally- 

“Eddie! Oh- oh fuckin’ hell!” 

It happens. The thing that had never happened to you outside of your own late night desperate fumblings. It flows like liquid fire through your veins, buzzing across your skin in a wild burning sensation that takes you utterly by surprise. Your sounds are feral; incoherent and needy, as your thighs grasp him firmly as if in fear of him moving away. 

After a loaded silence, whilst you both breathe, and breathe, you finally unclasp your legs around him, falling to the side in an ungainly heap of arms and legs.  

“Well. Holy fucking shit.” you laugh nervously, legs shaking with the after effects.

“So, not too weird?” He smiles, taking the opportunity to get on top of you, arms either side of your head. 

“It's a little weird. Only ever, you know, came, on my own, so yeah.” 

“Yeah?” The cocky look is back, a hand trailing down your shoulder to rest on your breast. 

“Can I take this off, please?” 

You smile and lift your back up so he can slide his hand behind you, fumbling around to try and get the clasp, swearing under his breath. 

“I don't know, can you?” You question, stifling giggles. 

“You could just help me, you know, you-you devil woman- Oh wait I did it!” 

The clasp springs free and Eddie's proud smile nearly splits his face apart as he eagerly pulls down the straps. 

“You're such a goofball.”

“You've got amazing tits, Jesus Christ.” 

Heat flushes your chest and before you can retort he's kneeling between your legs, hot mouth sucking roughly on a nipple. Words fail you, your body the only thing talking as you arch your back and push toward his greedy lips. Letting go with a loud pop, he sucks a hickey right in the middle of your sternum, running his thumb over the wet mark after. 

“I wanna go down on you.” He blurts it out, spill words tugging out of his lips before he can stop them. 

“You wanna what?” You respond, dazed as he looks up at you, eyes full of fire. 

“I wanna use my mouth on you. Down here.” 

He drags his fingers low, pressing one just to the top of your mound. 

“You really want to?” As far as you're aware, that's not a thing guys tend to want to do. At least that's what you've heard. Eddie seems to be an exception. 

“More than anything.” He's brutally honest, eyes wide and begging. 

“I mean, if you want to, sure.” 

“OK, shit, just wait a sec.” 

Getting up so fast it must make his head spin, he unbuttons his jeans and wrestles them down his legs, tossing them away. The tent in his boxers makes your eyes widen.

Breathing a sigh of relief, he climbs back on the bed. 

“Sorry, just so fuckin’ hard it hurts.” 

Nothing can stop the whimper that shoots out of your mouth at his words. Again, he's just being honest, but he doesn't seem to understand how sexy it is. 

Moving to unzip your skirt, he bats your hand away to do it himself. Before he pulls it off, he looks at you nervously. 

“Just, let me know if you don't like something. Or if you do. I've er, I've not done this before so lower your expectations.” He laughs it out, embarrassment coating each word. 

“I thought you had a bunch of hook ups at The Hideout?” You tease, smirking at him. 

“Right, full disclosure, I've erm, used my fingers before, a few times. And once- once some girl tried to give me head and I busted in like three seconds, OK?” 

He grabs a bunch of his hair and hides behind it while you chuckle. 

“Eddie, it's fine, I'm glad you told me. It's just me. I'm not gonna judge you, you know that.” 

“Yeah, of course.” The breath he lets out is loud, tension melting from his body, and he bends to pull your skirt down and off. Your panties are next; they cling to your core so much it makes you cringe, but he doesn't seem to mind. 

“Can you, spread your legs a little sweetheart?” His voice is husky, eyes staring straight at your pussy. Feeling exposed, you do as he asks, fighting the urge to pull away from his gaze. 

“Look at you. Beautiful.” 

Smiling at his words, it turns into an open mouthed gasp as he strokes his fingers softly through your folds. 

“Fuck me, you're soaked.” 

Then his tongue is slipping across you, feeling tentatively as he keeps your legs wide with his rough palms. It's different; wet and messy, but it's incredible. The pleasure increases tenfold as his wandering mouth finds your clit. 

“Eddie, right there, right there!” 

He groans, pushing his face into you so hard you can feel the vibrations from the noise. He's moving his tongue up and around it, making an absolute mess of spit and slick over you. Suddenly he tries sucking and your back leaves the bed, hands coming to clutch at his hair. 

“Oh my God, do that again, please please, oh fuck!” 

He does it again, and again, smoothing each suckle with a flat lick from his tongue. Fingers graze your hole suddenly, making you jump. As you look down you see Eddie's entirely consumed by what he's doing, rutting himself into the mattress like an animal. One finger breaches you, feeling around, pumping slowly in and out. It's good, but it's not great. 

You feel ashamed even trying to guide him but you attempt to shake it off. 

“Eddie?” 

“Hmm?” He looks up, an almost dazed expression in his eyes. 

“Can you- can you curl your finger upward?” 

“Like this?” 

Your reaction is instantaneous, hips rucking up to his touch. 

“Fuuuck.” 

“Yeah? That good, sweetheart?” 

That smugness is back but it isn't in you to care. There's no words, just little whimpers and moans as you grab him by the hair and push his mouth back where you need it. 

When he adds another finger, you're gone. Your walls are clenching around him, sucking him in as the feeling of his thick digits stretching you fills your entire being. Dots dance in your vision as your whole body feels fuzzy, tingles whispering over your skin. You cry out as the feeling escalates, bubbling through you until you can't see, can't think, clawing at Eddie's head until you reach an impossible precipice. Then, it explodes, showering you in waves, over and over. 

“Oh my God that was amazing, fuck Eddie, you're incredible, I never came that hard in all my life, Jesus Christ!” 

You're babbling, you know, bubbles of platitudes popping out of your mouth in almost nonsensical sounds as your legs twitch like crazy. 

Eddie scoots up a little, face pressed into the plush of your stomach. He mumbles something incomprehensible. Leaning up on your elbows, you pull his hair a little making him look at you. 

“You alright there? What'd you say?” 

Eddie laughs, kissing your tummy, face flushed pink. 

“I said I fuckin’ came in my pants.” 

Then he hides again, as if your skin can cover his embarrassment. 

“Eddie, come here you dope.” 

He climbs up you, leaning on quivering arms. The front of his boxers pushes on your sticky core. 

“Don't worry about it, that's kinda hot.” 

“Yeah? You're hot. That was, wow. I think I found my favourite place.” 

You giggle, pressing kisses to his lips. There's still traces of you on him but you don't care. 

“Can you tell me what you said again?” He asks, grin fighting to envelop his whole face. 

“Huh?” 

“You know, how I'm the most incredible lover in existence.” Waggling his eyebrows at you, he strokes a wayward hair off of your sweaty forehead. 

“I did not say that!” 

“I'm paraphrasing, it was pretty close.” 

You hit him on the chest playfully and he falls to the side in a terrible act of mock pain. Crawling on top of him, you continue to smack him, fake punches thrown at his ribs. 

“OK, you win, I cannot best you!” 

Grabbing your hand, he kisses your knuckles and you melt against him, pressing soft kisses to his mouth. They turn harder, tongues massaging each other as he runs his hands down your back. 

You break away to plant a single kiss to the tip of his nose. 

“Maybe in a bit, you know, when you've… recovered…” 

Dragging your nails down his lean chest you look up at him, biting your lip. 

“We can… go all the way?” 

Eddie's face lights up. He grabs you and flings you down so he's on top, kissing your neck and jaw sloppily as you squeal at the sudden onslaught. 

“Yes, fuck yes, gimme like two minutes, five tops.” 

Taglist (if you want to be added please send me a PM so I don't lose the request, thank you)

@liminalpebble @eddies-puppet @rip-quizilla @micheledawn1975 @vanilla-demon @millercontracting @roanniom @josephquinnsfreckles @leelei1980 @mrsjellymunson @usedtobecooler @eddiesprincess86 @ali-r3n

[3mmalg]

Just Us | Old Man!Logan x Reader

🌶️ 18+

Summary: You and Logan have been on the road with Charles and Laura, but finally catch a moment for yourselves.

It has been too long since you and Logan have spent time alone together. Ever since taking in Laura and making the decision to take her north at her mother’s wish, the four of you have been sharing dingy motels and catching whatever rest you could in the truck. Charles needed to be taken care of and the kid had to be corralled, exhausting you and Logan on top of the constant threat of Dr. Rice and Pierce.

You could tell this sudden change of pace was weighing on Logan’s shoulders heavily. The circles under his eyes were darkening and the worry lines on his forehead were deepening. The frustration was eating away at him, but deep down he knew he had to do this. You could tell he needed release. He found this situation ridiculous and constantly asks you why you let him do this. After all, you, Charles, Caliban and Logan had been successfully under the radar until now. Life was peaceful and even somewhat enjoyable for Logan’s standards. Now, Caliban is dead, Charles refuses his medication, and the pair of you are tasked with taking a child to a sanctuary that could not even exist.

An unexpected change of your path lead the four of you to the farmhouse of a sweet family whom Charles and Logan helped on the highway. They fed you dinner and offered to lend you all a place to sleep, which Logan quickly accepted, catching your gaze from across the dining room. Your eyes trail down his body, catching a glimpse of his clenched fist, and a certain outline in between his legs. Your eyes travel up once more, sharing a shy smirk with Logan.

After helping Charles into bed and getting Laura comfortable, Logan grabs your hand tightly and nearly drags you off into your shared room. His heavy footsteps drown out your giggles- His body language could only mean one thing.

“Well, aren’t you eager?” You say to Logan in a lowered voice, biting back a smile. He closes the door behind you and locks it, spinning you and pressing you into the door.

“You have no idea, bub.” Logan growls.

He grabs your wrists and pins them above your head tightly. His head dips to the crook of your neck, biting and sucking desperately. Your head drops back instinctively, bumping the door behind you. He was so impossibly close already, but it wasn’t enough. He needed to be inside you.

With his free hand, Logan finds the buttons of your jeans and masterfully undoes them. He releases your wrists and your hands quickly find his cheeks to pull his mouth away from your neck and to your lips. He groans deeply into the kiss and shoves your jeans to your knees as your hands tighten in his dusty grey hair. He pushes his knee into yours, forcing your legs open, and shoves his jean covered thigh against your core. You instantly moan into Logan’s mouth.

“You know how long it’s been since I’ve had you to myself? Too damn long.” He says, guiding your hips as you grind on his thigh.

“I’ve missed you.” You choke out, causing Logan to chuckle.

“Well you’ve got me for at least tonight sweet girl.”

He removes his knee from between your legs and helps you step out of your jeans and panties. He takes your hand and leads you to the bed, laying you down on the edge of it. You prop yourself onto your elbows and watch Logan unbutton his flannel and reveal his weathered body. He had been through so much in his life, but he would always make time for his girl.

He works off his jeans, leaving him only in his plain boxers, and leaving you with a wide eyed stare. This would never get old. He inserts himself between your legs and reaches for the hem of your shirt, tugging it over your head and unclasps your bra while he’s at it. He sighs at the sight he had been missing for the last few weeks. He may not tell you often, but you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

“You ready, bub? Don’t expect me to go easy on you.”

You whimper out a desperate reply, but it isn’t good enough for Logan. He leans down, hands placed on either side of your head. Your legs immediately wrap around his hips.

“Use your words, honey. Let me hear you.” He growls into your ear.

“Please, Logan. I need you.”

He chuckles, breath fanning over your ear and neck.

“That’s what I like to hear. Such a good girl for me.” His voice dripping with desire.

He pushes his hands up and pushes his boxers down his hips, revealing his hard cock. He strokes it lazily before guiding it to your entrance. He enters you inch by inch, teasing you both. Even though it’s only been a few weeks without touching each other, being on the run has made it feel like years. Logan finally sinks his hips to become flush with yours, filling you completely. The two of you are panting into each other’s mouths, just completely full of desire and love for the other.

“You ready for me to move, hon?” He whispers in between labored breaths. You nod meekly, hair sticking to your forehead. He kisses you tenderly, his beard scratching your chin. Logan begins to move at a slow pace, but quickly picks up speed. He wants nothing more than a passionate night with you, but it’s been too long to hold himself back.

His speed increases, thrusting into you as hard as he promised. Your jaw goes slack to release a moan, but he covers it quickly with his large hand.

“As much as I wanna hear you, we don’t want to wake our hosts, huh?” He says, smiling at your fucked out expression. You nod, eyes rolling to the back of your head as he fucks you hard.

“You’re close bub, I can feel it. Just let go for me baby.” He whispers, forehead against yours.

You let out a stifled moan against Logan’s hand as he pulls out and releases all over your stomach and thighs. He flops beside you with a groan and maneuvers himself to the top of the bed, pulling you into his muscular chest and wrapping a strong arm around your shoulders.

“I missed you.” You whisper, eyes fluttering shut.

“I know.”

[pomefioredove]

for a oneshot how about vil gets sick and reader/yuu (your choice) helps take care of him? :3

o7

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ it comes with a fever

type of post: fic characters: vil additional info: romantic or platonic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu, took a more unique approach to the sick prompt, would say ooc but this is just how having a cold sore makes you act

"He hasn't left his room all day,"

Epel's still got that uncomfortably tight grip around your wrist. He hasn't let go since he dragged you out of Ramshackle.

"Not even Rook is allowed in. It's... damn strange," he mumbles, disturbed.

You stop in front of the Pomefiore Housewarden's door.

The boy looks at you. "I'd go in myself, but... ah, I'd figure you'd have more luck,"

Which you suppose is his way of saying "Vil PROBABLY won't kill you"

"It's got everyone spooked, Prefect. Like a herd 'a sheep without a sheepdog,"

So, it's up to you. Somehow.

Epel finally lets go of your wrist and disappears before you can ask any questions. Your newly freed hand closes around the door handle.

It's probably nothing, you tell yourself. But if Vil won't even see Rook... there's a slim chance he'll be happy to have you waltzing through the door.

You walk in, anyway.

The room isn't dark or dreary. There are no strange smells or messes. Nothing is out of place, except for the bundle of blankets on the bed and-

FWISH!

You drop to your knees just before a cushion-turned-missile can hit you.

"Get out!"

Definitely Vil. At least he's alive? "You're not supposed to take the name "throw pillow" literally!"

The familiar canto of your voice makes that bundle go quiet and still. And then, from its depths, a loud, uncharacteristic whine. "Don't look at meeeee-"

You can suddenly see why everyone in Pomefiore is "spooked".

"I'm not going to hurt you," you say, as if approaching a wild animal caught in a trap. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing!" he hisses.

"That's not very convincing,"

And, of course, he knows as much. Vil sighs, and you can see the bundle moving. He pulls out an arm and elegantly drapes it over his head. "I'm hideous,"

Did he get hit by a bus or something? You blink. "You're just sick. It's not the end of the world,"

A long, long sigh follows. The bundle moves again, and a person comes out of it- and if you weren't in his room and responding to his voice, you might not have recognized them as Vil.

He's messy. His hair is tangled and limp. His face is flushed and sweaty. He looks...

"See?" he points to his lower lip.

With the general state of him, you honestly hadn't even noticed the small bump on his lip. You blink.

"...That's what you're upset about?"

He glares. "Don't patronize me. I have a standard to uphold. I can't go out looking like this!"

"It's just a cold sore, Vil,"

"Just?" he crosses his arms. "Just, you say? You're either lucky or stupid. This isn't some common blemish I can cover up with a patch and concealer! This is a personal failure! All the supplements, all the medicated chapstick, and the vitamin C and I still-"

He shudders. "...And it comes with a fever, so if you have any sympathy to give, at least let it be for that,"

You sigh, a weary, but fond smile on your face. "Oh, Vil... let me get you some orange juice,"

He crosses his arms and almost pouts. "And the strawberries in the bottom drawer of the fridge,"

"Those, too,"

.

With your service, Vil eventually calms himself down, though he still lies in bed as if he were dying of something terrible.

By the third or fourth bad Neige Leblanche movie of the evening (making fun of them with you is good for his mental health), it's starting to get dark.

"Seven already?" you mutter, checking the time on your phone.

Vil's eyes widen, and he pretends as if he wasn't staring when you look back. "So?"

"So... I have to go," you say. "I have to make dinner. I have to-"

"You're not seriously going to leave me in this state, are you? I'm supposed to avoid stress,"

You blink. Is he really... He's guilt-tripping you?? You almost laugh- it's endearing to see him so...

...Not him.

"You want me to stay?"

"Yes," he says immediately. He clears his throat, and then: "...For my health. Go speak to Rook, get us takeout."

If you were a worse person, you might have teased him about how cute he is when he's needy... But you also know he's not going to be indisposed for long, and you'd like to survive to see next week.

You smile. "Sure. Can't say no to free food,"

"But no chocolate or nuts, and I'd like something with a lot of lysine, some order of tofu and beans. Ask Rook, he'll know what to get,"

A pause.

"...Thank you,"

He really is quite cute like this. Then again, Vil Schoenheit can pull absolutely any look off.

You head for the door, your hand closing around the cool handle once again.

"And Prefect?"

You turn. Vil hesitates, seemingly warring with himself over something. You can't say which side won, because he only sighs.

"Help yourself to whatever pajamas you'd like. And don't bother asking some dimwitted question about where you're going to sleep. You'll obviously be staying in my bed,"

[ceilidho]

He’s late for his own trial.

You’ve been standing outside the courthouse for what feels like twenty minutes now, tapping your heel on the ground and checking your watch for the umpteenth time. The two of you are already supposed to be inside the courtroom getting set up and going over the details of his case, but instead of grabbing a coffee at the shop across the street and combing over the case notes, you’ll be pressed to even get a couple hissed whispers out between you two before the judge steps up to the bench. 

You think about calling your client again, but that thought quickly evaporates when the sound of muffled heavy metal rumbles out of the gunmetal sedan that just pulled into the parking lot at around thirty miles an hour. You take a deep breath when he parks, already trying to talk yourself out of the bad mood you’re in.

In the back of your mind, you’re about eighty percent sure that there’s no way you’re leaving today without a guilty conviction. When Johnny steps out of the car, the cheap sunglasses obscuring his eyes do nothing to distract from the way he’s obviously hungover. He’s buttoning up his suit jacket from the middle button as he walks up the stone steps towards you, sliding his sunglasses into the breast pocket. 

“Don’t you look sharp,” you remark dryly when he’s close enough to lock eyes with you. You have to force down a shudder that threatens to ripple down your spine at the cocky grin that spreads over his face. 

You’re obviously being facetious. Johnny’s suit is two sizes too small for him—it looks like the last time he wore it was to his high school graduation and he’s grown at least a foot since then—and his shirt and pants are rumpled like he wore them to bed the night before. The scruff sprouting from his cheeks and chin also supports that notion; he’s still rubbing the sleep out of his eye when he walks up to you.

“‘N’ ye look—I wanna say exquisite, but we should probably keep it professional, huh?” 

He winks down at you and the twinkle in his eye infuriates you as much as it ingratiates you. You didn’t spend nearly ten years working your way through undergrad, law school, and years as a public defender to start preening at the attention of the first cute guy you’ve had to represent in your career. 

“I think we passed ‘professional’ after the seventh pass you made at me.”

“‘N’ it won’t be the last. Anyway, stop wasting time—let’s get this show on the road,” he says, side-stepping around you towards the court doors. “I’m not going to jail because someone wanted to flirt with me before my trial.” 

Your jaw drops. He acts like he isn't in this situation because he was accused of holding up a gas station six months ago. You think he’s about to brush past you until you feel a hand plant itself on the middle of your back and push you forward, making you almost stumble into the courthouse. 

“Anyway, we can pick up this conversation in the bog during the break if yer that hot for it,” he murmurs into your ear before you’re separated and searched upon entering the courthouse. Your cheeks do not—absolutely do not—heat up at his tone of voice. 

You’re right in that the two of you barely have any time to prepare. The prosecution is already set up at their table and even the court reporter and judge’s clerk are already present. You squirm at a side-eye from the other counsel, hurrying Johnny over to your table and spending the next ten minutes with your lips practically pressed against his ear.

All throughout the trial, he leans back in his chair and looks like the picture of a petulant child who’s been dragged along by his parent. If you could sink your head into your palms without immediately losing face in front of the judge, you would; all he had to do—and you’d reminded him this for weeks before the trial—was sit straight and not roll his eyes when the prosecution brought up their witnesses. He can’t even manage that.

Somehow though, miraculously almost—and in your defense, even Johnny looks shocked when the verdict is rendered—he’s not found guilty. You’re still a little shell shocked walking out of the courthouse, the sunlight making you squint and then a cup a hand around your eyes. 

He fits a big hand around your waist when you’re about to part ways with him, pulling you back into his chest. Your head whips up to stare at him, ignoring the clench in your belly when his fingers curl into your flesh and that same smug grin quirks up on his lips.

“Why don’t we go grab a drink to celebrate our win, hen?” he suggests. 

“I don’t grab drinks with clients,” you snap, trying to put some distance between you and him. 

Johnny leans down a bit more, always towering over you, until his face is so close that you almost go cross-eyed. “We dinnae have to go out then. We can just go back to my car. Ah can show you how much ah pure appreciate a’ ye did fer me.”

“I don’t need your thanks, I get paid for this—”

“Baby,” he murmurs, stressing the word out, and the moment suddenly feels cramped and intimate, despite the fact that you’re standing in the middle of a crowded parking lot. “Just let me eat ye out in th' backseat.”

You’re stunned for all of ten seconds before you try to glance inconspicuously around the parking lot. It doesn’t look like anyone’s paying attention. Johnny notices it at the same time as you and his smile goes devilish, teeth showing behind his lips. 

“Aye, ah ken that look. Come on—I ken a spot down th’ road where we can park.”