#have i ever pushed out gifs so fast??? no!

[reedrchards]

PEDRO PASCAL for Corona Extra

[osaemu]

JJK MEN: BABY, CAN YOU CALL ME BACK?

✩ ‧ ˚. [ GOJO, TOJI, GETO ] your boyfriend's gone for work, and you gotta convince him to come back home over the phone... NSFW

contents: fem!reader. phone sex, voice kink, video taking, dick pics, blah blah blah. you can probably guess the rest. not proofread + mostly written while i was half-asleep. 2.3k words.

★ ━ SATORU GOJO

“baby, i miss you,” satoru mumbles, voice soft and sleepy from the other end of the phone. you hear the sound of sheets rustling against his phone’s microphone as he rolls over, groaning softly. “i can’t wait to come home to you.”

you plop down on your bed and turn your phone on speaker as you rest your back against the headboard, stifling a yawn before you reply. “me too… it’s so lonely without you here.”

“i know,” satoru says, and even though it’s not a video call, you’re absolutely certain he’s grinning like the cocky idiot he is. “tell me ‘bout your day, sweetheart. wanna know what you’ve been doing without me.”

you roll your eyes and smile, checking your nails as you reply. “nothing much, it’s kinda boring without you here.”

“tell me more,” satoru murmurs, and he thinks that he’s so lucky you two aren’t on a facetime call, because his hand is slipping down to the waistband of his pants and he’s tugging them off, releasing his already-hardened dick. “i wanna know everything.”

you don’t think much of the way satoru’s breathing has gotten noticeably choppier as you ramble about the little things that’ve happened in your day so far—after all, how could you know that he’s stroking himself to the sound of your voice?

“so, yeah, that’s basically everything,” you finish, exhaling softly. the moment you stop talking, you hear the soft groans that satoru’s been fighting to hide the whole time, and suddenly, it clicks. “wait, satoru, have you been fucking yourself the whole ti—”

“maybe,” your boyfriend replies instantly, pausing and taking a long, unsteady breath before he continues, “wanna join me?” you don’t reply immediately, but soon, his voice turns pleading. “c’mon, baby, missin’ you so much… lemme hear you, sweet girl. help your boyfriend out, pleeea—” 

“okay, okay,” you give in, reaching down and tugging off your shorts. a second later, your panties are discarded as well, and your fingers start to circle your clit at the sound of satoru’s voice.

“mm, you touching yourself, baby?” satoru breathes, hand still wrapped around his dick. you hum in agreement, and the hand holding your phone grows tighter the faster your circles get. satoru clicks his tongue after a couple seconds, and adds, “don’t hold back, i wanna hear you.”

“okay,” you mumble, missing his familiar touch now more than ever. “i miss you so much, ‘toru,” you whisper, voice already a little shaky from your own fingers. but it still isn’t enough to push you over the edge—you both know that only satoru has the skill to do that.

“i know you do,” satoru teases, an amused lilt in his voice. “bet those pretty hands of yours couldn’t make ya cum half as fast as i could, yeah?”

he’s right, but it doesn’t stop you from trying—god, you wish your boyfriend were here and inside of you, but for now, his voice is all that you have. “baby, these past couple days, all i could—fuck, all i could think about was that pretty pussy of yours,” satoru chokes out, hand moving up and down the length of his dick faster. “so tight f’me, all just for me,” he mumbles, throwing his head back and gritting his teeth.

“s-satoru, i need you,” you mewl out, legs starting to tremble just at the thought of him. “need your dick inside of me, plea—”

“can’t do that, princess,” satoru sighs, groaning at the sound of your desperate request. “wish i could, though.. but we gotta wait for a couple days, fuck.”

you stop rubbing your clit and instead slip two fingers inside your cunt, wrist shaking at you pump your fingers up and down at his request. “s’ not as good as you, ‘toru,” you whine, hips unconsciously rocking against your hand. “come home soon, please, can’t wait for that long—”

satoru laughs breathily and moans shamelessly into his phone, mumbling something about work or a mission or something—but you don’t really catch the details, too occupied with fucking yourself to the thought of your boyfriend. “so impatient, aren’t ya?” satoru exhales, thrusting into his own fist and fantasizing about your warm, tight cunt instead. “fuck, baby, miss you and your cunt so fuckin’ bad—”

“then come home, ‘toru,” you plead, hardly able to choke out your words coherently. “please, satoru, i need you here—”

your boyfriend cuts you off with a series of porn-worthy groans, mixing in your name wherever he can as he cums into his hand. it’s not satisfying, and it doesn’t feel half as good as it would if he were fucking your pussy instead. so, after a couple seconds, he mumbles, “whatever you say, princess, i’ll be there by tomorrow.” 

★ ━ TOJI FUSHIGURO

“you’re an asshole,” you mutter into your phone. toji only scoffs in reply, a disbelieving edge to his voice. “toji, listen to me—”

“i’m listenin’, princess,” toji grumbles. “yeah, i know i said i’d be home by tonight, but somethin’ came up. s’ not my fault i’m surrounded by idiots.” and he makes no effort of hiding his disdain at your stubbornness—some things were just out of his control, including how long it took for most of his missions to get completed.

“don’t call me that,” you snap, climbing into your bed and pulling a pillow onto your lap. toji sighs, and it’s a long, lengthy exhale that surely has to be exaggerated. “fuck you, toji, you promised you’d be home by tonight.” 

your boyfriend laughs incredulously into his phone, chortling for a good twenty seconds before he replies, “i don’t remember promising anything, n’ what do ya need me home for anyways? what’s so fuckin’ important, huh?”

well, there’s no way you’re telling him the real reason you want him home so badly—he’d just laugh at you and your desperation for him. but honestly, after going for more than a week without his dick, you’re really fucking close to telling him that. instead, you reply, “maybe i just miss my boyfriend.”

“more like you just want dick, don’t ya, pretty?”

toji sees right through your pitiful lies—he always does. you don’t respond for a long while, and your boyfriend fills up the silence by laughing again. “shoulda just said so. i missed fuckin’ that tight cunt of yours too, idiot.”

“so will you come home now?”

“mm, you gotta convince me.”

“how?” you groan, dragging a hand down your face. 

“show me jus’ how much you miss me, and maybe i’ll consider comin’ back early if you can prove it to me,” toji says, and you can hear the smile in his voice as your screen lights up with a request to facetime. 

you accept, and a second later, your boyfriend’s face fills up your screen. his dark eyes are squinted from the sudden light, but the corners of his lips curl upwards when he sees you. “hey, princess.”

“hey, asshole.”

“you want to get fucked tomorrow night or not?” he drawls, a lazy smile playing on his face when that shuts you up. “now c’mon, let’s see that pussy. open wide f’me.”

you mutter something about him being the worst boyfriend ever before you tug down the waistband of your panties, exposing your neglected, puffy cunt. your clothes are quickly discarded somewhere, allowing you to angle your phone downwards and show toji what he’s missing.

“oh, fuckin’ hell,” toji mutters, navy eyes fixed on your cunt as you slip two fingers inside and start pumping them in and out of your hole. the dim lighting of your room bounces off the slick already coating your cunt, making it look wetter than ever to toji—and you can practically see the longing in his eyes as he watches you fuck yourself.

“please, toji,” you mumble, spreading your legs even wider to show off your pussy to him. “miss you so much, please—fuck, please come home,” you plead, doing your best to put on a show for him. at this point, you’re so touch starved that you’d do anything to get him back—anything to satisfy you, since your own fingers can’t even give you half the pleasure toji can.

“so desperate, aren’t ya?” toji tuts, eying you with interest. “tch, pathetic…”

you whine in response to his words, hips rolling against your own hand as you futilely try to convince your head that it’s a dick in between your legs and not your own fingers. “fuck, toji, i’ll do anythin—”

“anything?” he instantly cuts you off, cocking an eyebrow as if he’s intrigued. you nod desperately, almost willing to do anything and everything for him if it meant he could fill up the empty spot in between your thighs. “you promise?”

“y-yeah, anything,” you whimper, throwing your head back as your hand starts to grow sore. 

toji hums in approval, and a moment later, he replies, “alright then. i’ll head back tomorrow mornin’, but you’re getting fucked for the whole night after. n’ i don’t wanna hear any of that ‘toji, it’s too much!’ bullshit, m’kay?” he snaps, mimicking your voice by raising his pitch two octaves. 

“okay, i promise,” you choke out, and the second the words leave your lips, toji hangs up.

asshole.

★ ━ SUGURU GETO

“suguru, i miss you,” you mumble into your phone, burying your face into the blankets wrapped around your shoulders. usually, it’s rare for you to feel cold within your bedroom—suguru’s presence seems to make everything warmer. but right now, he’s not here, and even your own room feels barren without his comforting aura. “it’s so empty here without you…” 

“is it, now?” suguru replies coyly from the other end of the call. he’s at some sort of meeting right now, but apparently, he’s on his break—which is good, because you imagine that it might be a little embarrassing for him to take this call if he were in the middle of the meeting. “i miss you too, baby. you and that pretty pussy of yours, heh.”

“sugu—”

your boyfriend interrupts you with a soft, teasing laugh, lowering his voice when he adds, “do you want to know what i’d do to you if i was with you right now?”

you swallow back the “yes” you so desperately want to say, instead whispering, “aren’t you in public?”

“nah, i’m in the bathroom right now,” suguru clarifies. “now c’mon, answer the question.”

“...yeah,” you admit. it’s been over a week since you last had any sort of sexual contact with suguru—you’ll take what you can get.

your boyfriend laughs again, sultry voice pouring out your phone’s speakers and straight into your throbbing cunt when he starts describing—in great detail—the things he would do to you if he was on top of you right now.

“...and then, i would flip you over and fuck you face-down ass-up for hours,” suguru adds casually, enjoying the sounds of your muffled moans—you’re trying so hard to hide them, but little do you know that it’s only too obvious to suguru. 

two of your fingers are circling your clit as suguru speaks, and your own hand is clasped over your mouth as you struggle to hide the effects of suguru’s voice on you—and he just keeps talking.

“yeah, and when i finally let you cum all over my dick, i’d just keep going,” suguru cooes, tempted to pull down his pants and take care of his own boner right then and there. but unlike you, your boyfriend has some ounce of resilience, and as he checks the time on his phone, he realizes that he has to get back to his meeting soon anyways.

“suguru—” you moan, unable to stifle your little whimpers any longer. “wan’ you so bad, please—”

“silly girl, what do you mean, you want me so bad?” suguru says amusedly. “i’m already yours, aren’t i?”

“you know what i mean,” you huff, rocking your hips against your fingers in an attempt to force yourself to cum. but unfortunately, ever since you started fucking with suguru, your own fingers aren’t good enough—even if you could hypothetically make yourself orgasm, it wouldn’t give you even a fraction of the pleasure your boyfriend could. “please, sugu, i wanna see you.”

and just like that, any remaining self-restraint suguru has snaps—the sound of you begging is enough to make him do anything in the world.

suguru hastily unzips his pants, releasing his dripping dick. he runs his thumb over the leaking tip, smearing the pre-cum all over its head. “fuck, baby, i’m at work right now,” he mutters into his phone, rolling his eyes affectionately when he hears you giggle. “one pic. then i’m going back to my meeting.”

“m’kay!” you agree, pulling the phone away from your ear and turning it on speaker as you eagerly wait for the pictures to send.

suguru holds up his phone and snaps a picture of his dick resting in his palm, stroking it with that hand and sending you the image with the other. “alright, sweetheart, gotta get back to work,” suguru sighs, unable to get his boner to settle down—he figures the only way it’ll happen is if he ends the call, which he really needs to do.

“aw, do you have to?”

“yeah, sorry ‘bout that,” he mutters, removing the phone from his ear to end the call.

“wait, what’re you sending me—oh, fuck, you’re the worst,” suguru groans when he clicks the notification and sees a video of what you’re doing to yourself right now—it’s a five second video of you pumping your fingers in and out of your puffy cunt to his voice, and there goes his resolve to stay at work.

“i fuckin’ hate you, baby… see you in a couple hours.”

[not-neverland06]

n a s t y d o g I logan howlett x fem!mutant!reader

One-shot A/N: I've never felt this way about a fictional character before. Every gif I see of him has me gnawing and biting at the bars of my enclosure. I want to bite him. If Hugh Jackman ever discovered what thoughts lurk inside my rotted brain about him he'd get a restraining order. This isn't OKAY Anyways... Summary: You'd thought you'd had a good thing going with Logan. You weren't officially anything to each other, but you were getting close. You truly saw a future with him, but he made it incredibly clear he did not feel the same 18+ HATE FUCKING (MDNI)

(one chance please, just one chance with him)

“Are you sure this isn’t totally clingy girlfriend of me?”

Ororo gives you an irritated look and Jean laughs. “Not at all, Scott loves it when I surprise him like this.” You’re all huddled in your room, each of you in varying stages of getting ready. Jean is finishing off her eyeliner at your vanity, Ororo is putting on her boots, and you’re trying to decide between a skirt and a dress. 

You’re not entirely sure how, or why, Logan and Scott decided to go to the bar together tonight. You suspect it has something to do with Jean. She wants them to start getting along so there’s less friction when you’re all around each other. 

At Jean’s idea, Logan had muttered, “When hell freezes over,” in your ear before he had left for the night. You’d gotten a little antsy without him to entertain you and had mistakenly blurted out the idea of going to visit them. Ororo had been dying to get out of the house and Jean was a little worried about her boyfriend as well. They’d agreed to go along with you and you’ve felt a weight in your stomach ever since. 

Your relationship with Logan was relatively new. Hell, a month ago you’d thought he’d hated you the same he did Scott. You’d, of course, been proven wrong when you’d had a few drinks with him and things had taken a very physical turn. 

You weren’t sure if he’d just wanted a one-night stand or something serious. But when you’d tried to sneak out the next morning and he’d muttered a grumpy, “Where’re you going?” You’d gotten your answer. 

You hadn’t been on any real dates, there didn’t ever seem to be time for them. But you spent most of your days together. Sometimes just silently enjoying each other’s company, other times you would be holed up in one of your rooms cuddling. The thought always brings a stupid lovesick grin to your face. 

It’s one of your first real relationships and you’re worried that things are moving a little too fast. At least on your end. You can already tell that you’re falling for him. Headfirst into the deep end of love. And it’s terrifying because you truly cannot tell what he thinks about you. Clearly, he likes you. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t let you follow him around like a lost puppy. 

But he’s never truly said anything to you. There’s no official label as to what you two are. You say girlfriend off-handly and you usually don’t mean it when you reference yourself. You’ve never outright said he’s your boyfriend and he’s never really claimed you. He’s made it explicitly clear he doesn’t want you sleeping with other men, and you’ve said the same to him about women. You both agreed on that, but…

You kind of drive yourself crazy trying to figure this out. He’s not vocal about his feelings and everything’s still new so you don’t like pressuring him. You also worry that if you push him too far he’ll just get tired of you and move on. It’s not fair to assume that of him, and you know everything would be better if you just talked to him. But you’re scared. You’re scared the conversation will take the wrong direction and everything will blow up in your face. 

Jean calls your name and your head shoots up to see both Ororo and Jean looking at you expectantly. You flush when you realize they must have been talking to you and you’d just completely zoned out thinking about Logan. 

“Huh?” You blurt out, cringing at how dumb you sound. 

Jean gives you a concerned look, “I can practically taste your anxiety.” The telepath frowns and offers you a comforting smile. “Don’t worry about it, I promise, Logan won’t mind at all.”

“You’re fine,” Ororo adds, because clearly the look on your face screams, I need constant validation. They’re not wrong, but still, you hate feeling like an exposed bundle of nerves. “Think of it as girl’s night, the boys just happen to be there.” 

You force a smile on your face and give your most enthusiastic nod. You change into the dress and finish up with your hair. You finally start chatting with them again, engaging so it might disguise just how nervous you feel. 

There’s this clenching feeling, traveling from your stomach up to your chest. It makes you sick, makes you hurt. And it’s not because you think Logan will be upset with you for crashing. He’d be relieved, if anything. There’s something else. Premonition isn’t one of your abilities, but you’re seriously starting to doubt that now. 

The bar is loud when you walk in. The soles of your shoes immediately start to stick to the floor and your nose screws up in disgust at the loud laughter coming from around the pool tables. You glance around, trying to see if you can spot Logan. 

You’d say you could spot him in any crowd. But has a propensity to hunker down and try to attract as little attention as possible so people don’t bother him. “There he is,” Jean taps your shoulders and points to the two men at the end of the bar. 

Like you’d thought, Logan is hunched over his whiskey, glowering down at the wood under him like it had insulted him. You almost want to laugh at the sight. Some of the earlier anxiety eases its grip on you and you feel your shoulders begin to untense. 

Before you can walk over Ororo grabs Jean’s wrist. “Gotta go to the bathroom,” she tugs Jean behind her. 

Jean looks over her shoulder at you and smiles encouragingly, “Go to them, we’ll catch up in a second.” You give her a tentative nod and slip through the crowd. There are more people here than you thought there would be. 

You’re happy not to spot any kids in the crowd. You’ve had a few too many nights out crashed by kids who thought they were good at sneaking out. 

It’s easy enough not to spot you or the other women in the crowd. Mutants have gotten good at blending in with the people around them. Makes it easier to get around. It’s probably why neither Logan nor Scott stop their conversation as you approach. “So,” Scott draws the word out, fingers tapping against the glass of his beer. 

“Don’t,” Logan warns. You want to laugh at his grumpy demeanor, but someone’s accidentally elbowed you and you find yourself stumbling a few steps back. It’s taking entirely too long to get to them, the bar isn’t even that big. There’s just that many people here. 

Scott ignores him and rolls his eyes. “Look, we’re stuck here for a while. Try and pull that stick out of your ass.”

“How about I put one in yours?” Logan’s claws come out slightly. But then they both share an odd look and Scott smirks. “Shut the fuck up,” Logan grouses, “not like that.”

“Right,” Scott huffs out a laugh and shakes his head. He picks up his bottle and takes a long drink. You’ve nearly reached them now. You stop, though, when you hear Scott say your name. You shouldn’t, you really shouldn’t. Eavesdropping now is just asking to get hurt. 

You drop back into the crowd, hoping the smells of others will stop Logan from discovering you lurking behind them both. Scott continues, “How’s that going?”

You crane your neck forward, trying to hear them better over the karaoke happening behind you. Someone is butchering Britney Spears but you couldn’t care less right now. Logan shouldn’t answer. Since when has he ever shared anything with Scott?

So, imagine your surprise when his answer isn’t immediately telling him to fuck off. “Eh,” he shrugs, downing the rest of his whiskey. Your face drops in irritation. Seriously, all this skulking around for an Eh? That’s bullshit. 

You keep yourself from stepping forward, forcing your feet still, and ignoring the little voice in the back of your head telling you this is a bad idea. You’ve committed this much, you’re seeing it through. Scott whistles lowly, “That bad, huh?” Oh, fuck off, Summers. 

Logan shakes his head and for a moment you have a brief feeling of hope lifting you up. “Nah, not bad. It’s just, I don’t know.” Logan sits up and signals the bartender for a refill. Your snooping senses go off and you briefly see Ororo and Jean exiting the bathroom. Desperate for something to keep them at bay, you flick your wrist. The man in front of them tips his drink down Jean’s shirt, slurring out apologies. Jean huffs and Ororo brings her back into the bathroom. 

Scott and Logan somehow missed the whole interaction and you promise yourself that you’ll pay for Jean’s dry cleaning. You’re definitely not going to. “Think she wants something I don’t,” Logan tells Scott, and your heart plummets to your feet. You can practically see it deflate, all the lovesickness draining out of it and onto the floor of this grimy bar. 

“Like, she just wants to fuck around?”

Logan shakes his head and downs another glass of whiskey. He’s just swallowing it down like it’s water. At a certain point, the bartender gets sick of it and just leaves him with the bottle. “No, she wants something real. Like a real relationship.” Scott’s brows furrow and Logan shrugs. “Not interested.” 

It’s the way he says it that really bothers you. There’s nothing wrong with wanting something different in a relationship. It happens all the time. But he says it so dismissively. He knows that you want something real with him, something secure and loving. He knows that, continues to fuck you and lead you on, and then speaks as though you’re an idiot for ever being interested in that. 

Hurt hasn’t set in yet. You’re staring wide-eyed, jaw agape with shock as you stare at Logan’s back. You’d thought a conversation needed to be had. But you didn’t think that he thought of you like this. You’d thought you meant something to him. 

Scott seems to share the sentiment, his lips tugged down into a frown. He leans against the bar, surveying Logan with a disbelieving look. “What?” Logan snaps.

Scott raises his hands in surrender, shaking his head and backing off. “Nothing, man, I just thought you two were serious about each other.” You miss whatever Logan says as an arm slings itself around your shoulder. 

“What’re you doing?” A husky, seductive voice whispers against the shell of your ear. You jump in shock, glaring at Ororo as she grins at you. She lets her arm slide off your shoulders and glances over at Jean. “I think she was spying.”

Jean nods, nudging you forward. “Definitely spying. Hear anything good?”

You fortify your mind against her probing fingers before she can find out. “Nope,” you blurt out. You hope the racing of your heart is dismissed by your constantly frazzled nature. You hope the look on your face is explained by your earlier boredom and anxiety. You pray that none of them notice the way you lean away from Logan when the men finally turn around and notice you all. 

Scott breathes out a dramatic sigh of relief and slumps onto Jean. “Thank god, I thought I was going to die trying to talk to this brick wall.” his eyes flick towards you in a blink-and-you-miss-it moment. There’s a brief pitying look before he grins. “Come to get your boyfriend?” There’s a heavy emphasis on the word that you never would have noticed had you not heard their conversations. 

It’s clearly a petty dig at Logan. And you would appreciate it if you didn’t feel the sudden urge to vomit up your dinner. “Thought you might need saving from Logan.” You tell him, a chuckle hiding the slight tremor in your voice. 

You’re not sure if he does, but you hope Logan notices how you avoided the word boyfriend. You hope that he hurts the same way you do. But you know, deep down, that he doesn’t care. He’s probably relieved that you didn’t use the title. 

Logan gets off his stool, he wraps his arm around your shoulder, and pulls you into a brief hug. His lips press against your temple before he dips down to whisper, “Thank you,” in your ear.

Asshole, he’s not allowed to smile at you the way he is. If you weren’t in such a crowded place and already overstimulated, you’d shove him away. If your friends weren’t watching you’d take his arm and slam it down onto the bar until you hear his fucking adamantium bones break. 

That might have been too far. Maybe you’re not that angry, but you’re hurt.

You place your hands against his chest, a thin smile on your lips while you hum a simple, “Mhm.” He doesn’t seem to notice the way you push away from him. It’s easily dismissed by you cheekily stealing his seat at the bar. 

He comes up behind you, hands bracketing you and keeping you stuck against the bar while you order your drink. One of his hands drifts down, laying against your thigh. You know this isn’t sexual, this is him comforting you. 

He shouldn’t know how horrible you feel in such busy places. He shouldn’t know that and know that his touch is grounding and then help you. Not if he doesn’t want something serious. If he didn’t want to be your boyfriend, didn’t want to be anything but a fuck, then why do this to you? Did he not think this was leading you on? Is this just him caring for you?

You’ll drown in a sea of unanswered questions before the night is over if you linger too long. You tip your head back, let your shot burn its way down your throat, and turn towards the others with a smile. You feel your worries fade and your focus loosen as you simply drift further into your mind. 

You must have disassociated or something. By the time you realize you’re no longer hearing bad karaoke and your elbows aren’t sticking to the bar, you’re already home. You stare in the mirror, hand pausing as you brush your teeth before you quickly finish. 

You didn’t drink much, you never do. It fucks with your abilities and causes migraines. You rinse your mouth out and glance into your bedroom. Logan groans and stretches. His back bows, muscles flexing and you rip your eyes away. You can’t let yourself be distracted by the chest you want to drape yourself across. 

You need to talk to him. It’s never been more clear. You wipe your mouth and toss the towel onto the rim of the sink. You take in a deep breath, trying to get rid of the nerves plaguing you. It’s never worked before, it’s not going to suddenly cure you now. 

You give up on the thought and instead, shove down the anxiety until you have enough confidence to speak. It takes a little while, Logan peaks an eye open, eyebrows quirked when he sees you just staring at him. “Something up, bub?” he flexes, on purpose, and you roll your eyes. You grab his shirt out of your hamper and toss it at him. 

“Put this on. Can’t think when you look like that.”

He chuckles, “That’s the point.” at your pointed glare his smile drops and he tugs the beater on. It barely does anything to deter you. If anything you’re having more trouble paying attention. Especially now that his full attention is on you. The humor is gone from the room, a thick tension replaces it. Logan seems to feel it, sitting up straighter and glaring at you like he’s trying to read your mind. “What’s wrong?” It’s a demand more than a question. 

It’s hard to look at him. But you refuse to let yourself cower now. You take in a fortifying breath and let your gaze bore into his. You put all the hurt and anger you feel into it, willing yourself to be firm. “We need to talk.”

“‘Bout what?” He’s brusque, but there’s a slight concern to his tone. 

There’s no point hiding this. And maybe you had misheard, maybe there was a conversation prefacing the one you’d heard. And you’ll talk it out and everything will be okay. “I heard you and Scott talking at the bar.”

The hope you had, as minimal as it was, is dashed at your feet. He sucks in a deep breath and the look on his face has you crestfallen. You can feel your chest cave in. You feel so stupid all of a sudden. Constantly following after him, even before you started dating him. Looking at him with stars in your eyes and latching onto his every move and word. 

You’d worshiped him, put him up on a pedestal he didn’t deserve. Superhuman or not, at the end of the day he was still a man. And they’ve done nothing but disappoint you. You suck your teeth, gaze dropping to your feet as you fight back the tears in your eyes. “Right,” you whisper, stepping back from him. 

“Look,” he starts. You force your eyes up and watch as he rubs uncomfortably at the back of his neck. He takes a step towards you and you shake your head, stepping away from him. His arms fall to his sides and he sighs. “Sorry,” he mutters.

“That’s it?” You demand, tone incredulous. You weren’t some great love or anything. But that’s seriously all he has to say.

He opens his mouth, eyes softening as he stares at you. Then he snaps it shut, something covers his face and his expression is borderline cruel as he sneers at you. “Not my fault you got in over your head, kid. Never said I wanted anything more with you.” He points at you, and you suddenly feel like a little girl getting scolded. You’ve never had a partner make you feel this small, especially not Logan. “You were just convenient.”

You rear back like he slapped you. You think it might have hurt less than that. To know you wasted so much time on such a fucking dick makes you want to throw up. Or scream, or cry. You can’t decide on one. But your powers can, the walls are shaking, knick-knacks falling off your shelves as energy pulses from you. 

You’ll face the hurt, the sadness, the horrible ache of rejection later. Right now, you need him out of your face before you bring the whole mansion crumbling down around you. “Out.” You grind the word out, turning away from him and clutching your hands to your chest. You take in quick, rapid breaths, trying to think of anything other than how horrible you feel. 

You haven’t lost control like this in a long time. You’re not going to give him the satisfaction of being the reason you get put on probation again. He whispers your name, coming up behind you like he’s going to touch you. 

You want to lash out, want to hurt him like he’s hurt you. But you’ll only cause more damage than necessary. He’s not worth hurting the kids in the rooms around you. You shove past him, ignoring the way he shouts your name. 

You dart out into the hall, grateful there are so few people milling around. Nearly everyone’s asleep, just a few stragglers finishing up their homework for tomorrow. A few of them give you odd looks that turn concerned when they see Logan chasing after you. Your bones are practically vibrating by the time you make it outside. 

You rush towards the grove of trees at the back of the mansion. Your knees give out under you before you can make it very far. Energy pulses out of you in an explosive circle. You hear bark crack and turn into nothing but dust as the air around you trembles. 

It’s a relief, like going to the bathroom after holding it all day. You feel it drain away from you, a plug pulled out as the energy rushes from you. It slows after a minute, feeling more like a leak than a steady stream. 

Your hands shake by your sides as you lay trembling on the grass. Your eyelids flutter shut and you try and keep them open but it’s hard. All of your energy had been spent keeping yourself in check until you made it out of the mansion. 

“I’ve got you,” a voice mutters near your ear. Familiar strong arms dip under your knees, lifting you up and pulling you into a sturdy chest. You recognize the body, recognize the uncomfortable warmth coming from him. But your tongue won’t work and you're passing out before you can try and push him away. 

You’re in your own bed when you wake up again. You’re briefly comforted by the warm feeling of the sheets around you before you realize how cold the other side of the bed is. You’re so used to the feeling of someone being beside you that it’s jarring for no one to be there. You sit up, a spark of anxiety lighting up inside you before it’s being quelled by an outside force. 

“I think it’s best if we keep that under control.” You’re not surprised to hear Charles’s voice. You can’t be, not when he’s actively keeping you calm and placid. You lean back against your headboard. You tilt your head lazily, looking at him while he looks out the window. 

“That tree was a hundred years old.”

You wince, face screwing up when you remember the large oak tree you obliterated last night. “I can remake it,” you promise. 

“You could,” he corrects, “but whatever happened last night between you and Logan is causing your powers to be volatile.” He finally turns towards you, the motor of his wheelchair a dull buzz as he smiles at you. There’s no resentment in his gaze at least. You’d known he wouldn’t be mad at you. He was used to accidents like this. Had you hurt another person, however, this would be an entirely different conversation. 

There’s a dull ache in your chest at the mention of Logan, but it’s quickly covered by another wave of calm from Charles. He smiles and holds out two metal bracelets. They’re thick, something red inlaid into the black metal. They look like handcuffs more than anything. His lips quirk up at your thought and you frown. 

“That’s what they are, right? Cuffs.”

“You’re not a criminal,” he assuages, his tone gentle as you take them from him. There’s a small silver button inside that you click and the metal springs open. You place your left wrist inside and it snaps shut, it’s a snug fit. It won’t be moving around anytime soon. You put the right one on and feel Charles’ hold on your mind ease the second it's closed. Every horrible feeling from last night crashes down on you and you nearly choke on it. 

You wonder how Charles managed to keep you asleep for so long without the roof crumbling. He chuckles, the noise tired. “Jean helped me. It took a while for the cuffs to be ready.”

The way he says that causes alarms to go off in your head. “How long?” He takes in a sharp breath and shakes his head, attempting to dismiss the question. “Charles,” you snap, voice bordering on a shout. 

“Two days,” he says. You gasp and slump back against your sheets. He says your name but you get to your feet and pace. You don't know what to do with yourself. There’s energy buzzing under your skin, but the cuffs are keeping it at bay. It feels wrong like your pores are being clogged with acid. 

“Two days.” You look over at him, horror painting your face and you can see why he was so apprehensive to tell you. “It’s never been that bad before.”

“No,” he starts cautiously, “It hasn’t. Which makes me wonder, what transpired between you and Logan that destroyed my grandfather’s tree?” 

You cringe at the mention of the tree. He’s never going to let go of that. Even when you recreate it, he’s still going to hold it over your head. His teasing eases you out of the spiral you were heading down and you glance over at him. “You’ve been in my head for two days. I’m sure both you and Jean already know.”

He smacks his lips together and shrugs, clasping his hands in front of himself. “Simply seeing if you wanted to discuss it, my dear.”

You vehemently shake your head and sit back down on your bed. “No, I don’t want to talk about him. I don't want to see him.” Charles gives you a look like he doesn’t believe you and you hate it. You truly don’t want to see Logan again. Just thinking about him makes you want to explode. He was a pig and you regret ever wasting your time on him. 

There’s a shriveled part of your heart weeping somewhere, but you crush in your fist until it shuts the fuck up. “Right,” Charles nods. “I do believe it’s best for your recovery that we keep you two separated for a while.” He rolls past you and places a comforting hand on yours. “Rest, you’ll feel more like yourself soon.”

You nod and watch him leave. Exhaustion suddenly seems to drop its heavy weight on your shoulders. Two days being restrained by telepaths probably wasn’t very restful. You lay across your comforter, rolling over and hoping when you wake up your heart will be healed. 

Two weeks. Two pathetic, snot-filled, and disgusting weeks of sobbing over Logan. You felt like a sixteen-year-old again, crying over the boy that didn’t like you back. It was awful, especially knowing that the entirety of the mansion knew what was wrong with you. 

Your students would leave your class and you would lock your doors, hiding under your desk as you wept. Those with superhearing or telepathy would bake you cookies and leave gifts at your door. It was sweet, but honestly made you feel ten times worse. You felt like your sadness was a burden you were forcing everyone to carry. 

Your mother would be so disappointed in you. She’d always told you that you mourn a relationship half the amount of time you were in it. Of course, hers never lasted more than a few weeks. And she’d had more boyfriends than you could count on three hands. 

Besides, you were allowed to wallow for a while. This was someone you were starting to fall for. To be so blind going into and leaving the relationship was awful. Having the rug ripped out from under you had been cruel and needless. You’re resentful and grateful he’d been so horrifically honest with you. On one hand, if the relationship had just ended, you’d be pining after him. Wondering what you’d done to lose such an amazing guy. 

But being faced with the brutal truth, knowing he was a piece of shit, it makes you hate yourself. You should have seen it. Should have known that he didn’t want you like you wanted him. But there were never any signs. You’d run it through your head a million times. Every interaction you’ve ever had with him. None of it shows you where he’d been lying to you or using you. You can’t even trust yourself anymore. 

There’s a loud knock on your door and you sniffle, tossing another tissue in the trash as you go to answer it. “Hello?” You croak. You can barely see, eyes puffy and so swollen your vision is blurry. 

“Holy hell,” Ororo scoffs and shakes her head. She pushes into your room and slams the door shut before anyone can see how awful you look. To be fair, you keep yourself relatively put together during the day. But it’s after hours now, you’re allowed to be a mess. 

“You look like shit.” 

Neither of you are prepared as you begin to blubber. Your lips tremble and your voice shakes as you begin to sob. “I know,” you wail. “I hate it.” Ororo’s eyes widen in horror and she quickly pushes you into your desk chair, grabbing a box of tissues and shoving it in your hands. 

“I feel,” you stutter, having to take in a few shuddering breaths before you can get the words out. “He tore out my heart and ripped it up with his stupid fucking claws.”

“Okay, okay,” Ororo runs her hands over your arms, trying to soothe you. “I know, sh, it’s okay.” She groans, “Stop crying,” she pleads under her breath. 

“I’m trying!” You snap at her, running hands over your wet cheeks and trying to swallow down the rest of your tears. 

“Look,” she steps back and shakes her head. She glances down at you, disgust poorly hidden on her face. She’s really fucking bad at comforting someone. “This is awful, I can’t take it anymore. You two keep dancing around each other and you’re putting everyone on edge. You won’t stop crying and he keeps going off,” she holds her hands up and shakes her head. “I just can’t do it anymore.”

You frown, brows turning down in confusion. “What?” You didn’t think Logan would be mad. You pictured him skipping through a field of daisies, happy to finally be rid of you. It only made you hate yourself more that you were still crying over it all. 

“He’s kind of losing it,” she seems reluctant to relent the information. “Look,” she kneels in front of you and snatches the tissue box from your hand. She tosses it to the side and forces you to meet her eyes. “He’s in love with you. We all know it, Jean’s confirmed it. He loves you, he needs you, he’s just terrified to admit it. He’s afraid of what's going to happen if you two become real.”

Your eyes widen with the realization. She nods enthusiastically as you connect the pieces. You can’t deny what’s so plainly laid in front of you when she assures you that even Jean knows. Jean knowing means she just did a nosy dive into his head. 

You can picture what could happen. With rom-com levels of nauseating romance, you run to find him. You tell him you don’t care that he’s afraid. You don’t care he pushed you away and you do love him. He’s not going to lose you. Nothing can rip you apart. You ride off into the sunset on Scott’s bike blah blah blah. 

This isn’t a fucking romance. And you’re not going to cry over a man who's too much of a pussy to admit he has feelings. You like men who have emotional depth deeper than a teaspoon. “Are you fucking kidding me?"

Ororo’s face blanches and she slowly backs away from you as you stand. “No,” she answers slowly, like she’s not sure of herself now. 

“That’s what I’ve been crying over?” You feel upset for an entirely different reason. You never misread the signs. You never missed a hint that he didn’t feel what you did. He did! He was just happier letting you doubt yourself and the love you held for him than admitting he felt something. You tear off the depression hoodie you’ve been living in for the past two weeks. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!”

You don’t know where you’re going. Normally, you’d run into a forest to let out a blast of energy. It drained you enough that you wouldn’t have to feel anything. But with these cuffs on, you can’t do anything. 

You storm out of your room and stomp down the stairs, uncaring who you wake up. You’ve wasted so much time on Logan, you refuse to stay in your room and cry for another fucking night. 

“I want to see her,” Logan growls. He tries to move around Charles, but he stops him with his mind, holding him in place while Jean disappears inside your room. Logan watches her go and glares at her retreating back as the door closes behind her. 

It’s been a day already, you’ve never needed to be out for more than a few hours. He doesn’t want to think that there’s anything wrong with you, that he might have permanently broken something inside you. 

That talk at the bar with Scott had been stupid. He would have said anything to get him to shut the fuck up and leave him alone. He didn’t really mean what he said, he just wanted him to back off. And saying that your relationship wasn’t anything was quicker than pouring out every thought he’s had of you. 

It was easier lying than it was to admit just how much he wanted you. Just how far he would go for you. But then you’d overheard, and you brought it up. And there’d been faith on your face. Like even you couldn’t believe what he had said because you could see through the bullshit. 

But all Logan had seen was a way out. This was an opportunity to finally get out of the suffocating clutches of something he didn’t want to admit was love. He took the chance before he could think. It’s what he was used to. Taking the easy way out, especially when it came to shit like emotions. 

He hadn’t thought you were going to explode, though. Because that’s exactly what you’d done. By the time he’d caught up to you, you’d burned a crater into the ground and had destroyed Charles’ stupid fucking tree. 

Seeing you like that, laying there lifeless, it terrified him. He didn’t want to live in a world that you weren’t in. There was no fucking point. It was sobering, realizing that, and then realizing that he was the reason you were like that in the first place. 

He didn’t want to live without you and he certainly would never be able to come to terms with being the reason you were dead. But it didn’t matter, whatever realizations he was coming to. Charles and Jean were completely blocking him from your room. They weren’t even giving him a chance to look at you. And he was about five seconds away from ripping the old bastard’s head off and just barrelling inside. 

He didn’t care what they said, he needed to see that you were okay. “I’m afraid you’re not going to be able to see her for a very long time.”

“Stay out of my head,” Logan growls, glaring down at the man. “What are you talking about?” He presses, finally processing the rest of his sentence.

Charles sighs and rolls away from him. Logan glares at his back but ultimately follows. “You were the cause of this, yes?” Reluctantly, Logan nods, there’s no point in hiding it. He’s sure Charles already knows. “For her own safety, the two of you will need to remain separated.”

That had been it. There was no arguing about it. No fighting Charles. It was for your safety that he stayed away from you. No matter how much he wanted to explain himself, he wouldn’t risk another meltdown like that. 

You didn’t deserve to get hurt because of someone like him. He wouldn’t be able to stand hurting you again. 

But two weeks seemed like a lot. At a certain point, he’s sure you’re just avoiding him. He knows he can’t blame you. He’d been a fucking idiot. But that didn’t make him any happier. If anything, he was getting more and more pissed off every day. 

He had less patience for mistakes. Was lashing out at the kids more often and don’t even get started on the petty fucking fights he was picking with Scott. How long did you fucking need before you talked to him again?

He knows you’re upset, your crying keeps everyone up at night. Something he’s sure you’d be mortified to learn about. Why won’t you let him comfort you? Why do you have to be so petulant, running around the corner every time you see him? Pointedly ignoring him when you’re in the same room together. 

He could fix this, make this all better. But you’re just not letting him. He knows this is why he loves you. It’s why he was so drawn to you. You seem like a bundle of nerves, constantly flitting around and keeping yourself small. It had been off-putting at first. And then he’d seen you training with Scott, kicking his ass more like. A switch had been flicked in his head. 

He could finally see you for what you were. He finally realized that it was your abilities you were keeping small. You were a fucking spitfire and you didn’t hesitate to tell him off, he loved it. Loved arguing with you just so he could see you get all pissed off. 

But that stubborn attitude he loved was really biting him in the ass right now. 

There’s a knock on his bedroom door and he doesn’t even get to pretend it’s going to be you. He smells Jean’s perfume and rolls his eyes. He puffs on his cigar and contemplates ignoring her.

“Don’t be a jackass, open the damn door.” 

Fuckin’ telepaths. “What?” He snaps at her the second the door is open. Her face screws up when she smells the smoke from his cigar. He knows she wants to put it out, and can see it in the twitch of her fingers. He raises a brow, a silent challenge to try him. He’s itching for another fight and she can feel it. 

She lets out a sharp breath, choosing her battles wisely and backing off. He’s almost disappointed. “We need to talk. This whole thing between the two of you is ridiculous. You’re a mess, she’s a mess…”

Her voice trails off into nothing more than the annoying pitch of a fly. Logan can’t be bothered to listen to her scold him. He’s not a fucking kid, and maybe if you were acting like an adult, they wouldn’t be having this problem. 

A few doors down he can hear you shouting, then the door to your room slams open. He darts off his bed, opening his own door to see what you’re doing. He only sees the back of your head as you angrily stomp down the stairs. 

Enough is fucking enough, he was finishing this now. He was sick of your side of the bed being empty and the stupid fucking glare on your face every time you saw him. He doesn’t even bother saying anything to Jean as he leaves, just chases after you. 

Jean watches him go with a perturbed look. She steps out of the room and glances down the hall. Ororo steps out of your room and walks towards her. “Well?” Jean probes. 

Ororor shrugs, “She’s over it.” Jean smiles but it’s quickly wiped off her face by Ororo’s expression. “Not in the way we wanted.

Jean clenches her eyes shut and takes in a deep breath. She needs you two to figure your shit out or she’s never going to be able to get a good night’s sleep again.

You find yourself in the gym. It’s not your favorite place in the world, you don’t usually get to train with the others. You’re stuck with telepaths, mainly the ones who can shut your powers down if you get too out of control. That hasn’t been a problem since you got the cuffs, but you’ve been too sad to test them out. 

Now you find yourself obliterating a punching bag. You wrap the energy around your fists and let it protect the thin skin as you pummel into the bag. You don’t know what else to do. You can’t have energy meltdowns anymore. You have to try and funnel it all out physically, but it’s not working. Nothing is. 

“Imagining it’s me?” You pause midswing. You glance over to the door just in time to see Logan stalking towards you. He unzips his jacket slowly. So slowly it almost seems provocative. He tugs it off and tosses it onto a nearby bench. 

You scoff as you watch him. “Do you ever have a shirt on?”

He shrugs and moves towards the ring in the middle of the gym. His movements are lithe and fluid as he hops onto the ring, every bit a wild animal. You watch as the muscles in his torso ripple and force your eyes off of him. You try and focus your attention back on the bag, but all your earlier energy is gone. Your mind is completely wrapped around Logan. 

Which you’re sure is exactly what he wants, or he wouldn’t be staring at you so smugly as he leans against the ropes and waits for you to acknowledge him. You suck on your teeth, irritation blooming in sporadic bursts throughout your body that has you nearly shaking. Finally, you give in. 

He smirks the second your eyes meet, “I can take it, sweetheart. A lot better than that little toy of yours can.” He nods towards the punching bag but the insinuation isn’t lost on you. You and Logan had been very active in your relationship. You could barely go a day without tasting each other. 

You’ve been pent up since the breakup. You’d given in a few days ago, pulled out your old vibrator, and tried to bring even a semblance of joy back into your life. But nothing could compare to Logan. 

His tongue darts out, wetting his lips as he waits for you to react. He’s standing there, staring down at you with all the surety in the world that you’re going to fuck him. It makes you want to dig your nails in and rip him apart, bit by bit. 

You can already picture it in your mind, using your abilities to pick him apart until he’s nothing but molecules dispersed through the air. He’s lucky you have the cuffs on, without them you’re sure he’d already be dead. 

You smirk and move towards the edge of the ring, your voice drops as you purr up at him, “You wanna play, Logan?”

He grins and moves off the ropes, starting towards you as you make your way onto the ring. You’re slightly less graceful than he was, but you’re too focused on wiping the smug look off his face to pay attention. “Come on kid,” he taunts, voice as low as it usually is when he’s fucking into you. “Let’s see what you got.”

You’re not stupid enough to just outright swing at him. You feint to the right and bring your knee up into his ribs. He only needs one hand to wrap around your thigh and drag you forward. His other hand goes to your hip, tugging you closer until you’re practically grinding against each other. You grit your teeth and glare up at him. 

“Come on, sweetheart, that can’t be all you got for me.” Energy wraps around your head, blurring the air around you. You slam your temple against his, it provides enough of a distraction for you to yank your leg out of his grip. You throw your right fist into his ear, bouncing back with a grin as he shakes his head. 

He practically growls as he reorients himself. You shrug and smirk, “What, don’t tell me that’s all you got, wolvie.”

“Don’t fuckin’ call me that,” he grumbles. You open your mouth, prepared to taunt him again. But he’s lunging towards you and you just barely have enough time to dart out of his way. You know he’s going easy on you. He could have had you just then if he really wanted this. 

But he’s dragging this out. Forcing you to spend as much time with him as you can. It only pisses you off further. You plant your foot on his back and kick him forward. He barely even stumbles and it only further confirms your suspicions. “Stop fucking holding back,” you yell at him. 

He turns around slowly. You almost expect there to be a sneer on his face, something angry. Instead, he looks fucking thrilled, like this is all just foreplay for him. He laughs, so low you can barely hear it, and his chest flexes as his claws come out. 

“You sure?” It’s a taunt, a dare, he knows you aren’t going to take the bait. You’d be stupid to, you don’t heal like he does. Once those things get in you, you’re screwed. But right now, you’re too pissed off to try and care. 

You don’t say anything, you just duck under his fist as he swings at you. You know he made it easy for you, giving you an opening to fall into. He’s treating you like you’re something fragile. And maybe you are. One wrong move in this fight and you might not make it through the night. But anger is making you blind to logic. 

Him playing fair just makes you want to play dirty. You use the opening he gives you, letting energy form around your fist and pulling back just enough to slam into his ribs. He coughs, doubling over as you hear bones crack under your hit. He’ll heal in seconds, you can’t bring yourself to feel too bad for him. 

Maybe if he ever took you seriously you might not be such a bitch. But he didn’t think you were good enough to be honest with and he still was treating you like a plaything. In your opinion, he deserves whatever you give him and more. He doubles over and you swing your leg around, bringing it down across his face. 

You hear a crack as your socked foot connects with his face, something crunches underneath you. And when your sole hits the mat again you see the blood leaking from his nose. You almost apologize. Almost, then you see the look on his face. His pupils are swallowing the hazel of his eyes, lips parted as he pants through his teeth. He looks fucking animalistic. 

You have no warning as he pounces on you. His lips smother your own, moving over you with little to no grace. There’s nothing romantic or gentle about this. His fingers are digging so hard into your shirt, you’re sure you hear the seams rip. But you can’t bring yourself to care. 

One of your hands goes to his hair, tugging at the roots until he’s groaning into your mouth. You rake your nails up his back roughly. He cusses against your lips, hand traveling up to your chin so he can roughly jerk you back. 

He stares down at you, a silent question on his face. You’ve barely nodded before he’s descending upon you again. Lips and teeth clash borderline painfully as he lowers you onto the mat. You’re missing all the usual love and tenderness he treats you with, but you don’t care. 

You want to be rough. You want to hurt him like he hurt you, make him ache for you the way you do him. You wrap your legs around his, lifting your pelvis until you have enough leverage to flip him. Your thighs straddle his waist and you grind down against the prominent bulge in his sweatpants. 

He groans into your open mouth, large palms grabbing at your ass and spreading you so he can thrust between your clothed thighs. You can’t help but moan at the friction. It’s just enough to keep you on edge, he pulls back every time you think you might be close to something real building. 

You rip your mouth off his. He glares up at you as you grab his hair and yank his head back. You slam his head hard enough into the mat for it to echo through the room and he growls against your grip. You grin down at him as you slowly get off him. You make a show of stripping, enjoying the way his eyes track your movements. He looks like a dog, panting and waiting for his treat. 

You’re tempted to get yourself off, making him watch, and then leave him straining against his sweatpants. But you need this bad, need him to scratch the itch you can’t reach so you can finally get him out of your head. Neither of you are patient as he jerks his sweatpants down just enough for his cock to pop out. 

It’s already leaking from the tip like a faucet. You kneel, straddling his waist again. You don’t have to do much to slick him up. You pump him a few times before he’s gripping your wrist and jerking your hand away. “Get up here,” he commands, voice rough as he grips your hips. You don’t even get a chance to protest before he’s flipping you over. 

He grabs your thighs and wraps them around his waist. Your ass is off the ground, hovering above his lap as he lines up with your slit. You moan when the tip rubs against your clit. “Whose teasing now?” You grit out, glaring at him. 

His lips curl up, that insufferable smirk on his face before he slams into you. The attitude is practically fucked out of you as he starts pumping in and out. You groan, raking your hands down his chest. He fucking moans at the pain, blood blooming under your nails and immediately closing the further down you go. 

Neither of you are giving up this fight, you don’t want to lose, not even while you’re fucking. He pulls out of you and flips you over so fast you don’t even have time to whine. He’s back in you before you can blink, hips slapping into you in a way that you know is going to leave bruises tomorrow. You’re not going to be able to sit for a week and he knows it. His hands are groping at the skin of your ass, pulling you apart and watching the skin ripple as he fucks into you. 

You’re not going to last long. You’ve been too desperate, too pent up while you’ve been pissed off at him. He leans over you, draping himself across you lazily. You groan at the added weight, it only adds to the sensation, only makes you want him deeper inside you. “Thought you didn’t want me anymore, sweetheart.” He whispers in your ear and you flutter around him as his hand snakes around your waist, rubbing tight circles on your clit. 

You open your mouth but all that comes out is disjointed moans. You know there’s something sarcastic in there, and he must know too because he laughs at your pathetic mumbled sentence. “I don’t know,” he leans back and watches as he makes room for himself inside you. “Seem to need me real bad now.”

Your nails dig into the mat, energy leaking through your fingertips and warming up the canvas beneath you. You can feel it fluctuating, fighting against the cuffs the closer he brings you to the edge. “Fuck you,” the words escape you at a particularly deep thrust and you struggle to keep your eyes open. 

He pauses and you nearly cry at the loss of movement. “Sorry, couldn’t hear you. What’d you say? Stop?”

You glare over your shoulder at him  “Don’t you fucking dare, Logan.” You let your power push up against his back, forcing his hips to move again. He chuckles at the move, fingers creating figure eights on your nub. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it, sweetheart,” he protests, voice innocent. “Ah, fuck,” his voice is nothing more than low grunts and groans in your ear the closer the both of you get to your release. You can’t speak anymore, can’t think. You can feel it cresting higher and higher inside you. 

Your abilities are rising with your release. They’re pushing against the cuffs, fighting desperately against the control the foreign metal has on your powers. You can feel it, heat building up under your skin, like a tingling on the tip of your tongue that you just can’t reach. It’s Logan’s release that finally tips you over the edge. 

The way his breath catches and his hips stutter in their perfect rhythm as warmth floods you from the inside out. You can feel it, him, dribbling down your thighs and staining the mat beneath you. It has you clenching around him, pushing your hips back weakly while you let the feeling overwhelm you. You nearly black out. Two weeks without him hadn’t felt long until you remembered what you were missing. 

You lose your sense of time, dropping to the mat like your bones have gone liquid, dripping out of you. You can feel Logan draped over you still, his weight a comforting blanket that nearly has you drifting to sleep. Naked, in the middle of the boxing ring. He pulls out of you and you whimper at the loss. 

He shushes you, rubbing a hand up your spine and pressing a gentle kiss to the side of your temple. He wraps his arms around you, laying down and pulling you back into his chest. It takes a few minutes of quiet cuddling for you to remember what exactly led you down to the gym in the first place. 

You feel disgusted with yourself for giving in to him so easily. It’s clear what his plan had been. And you’d fallen for it hook, line, and sinker. You’d barely even fought against him. Of course, you could reason that you needed to get the tension out. This was the perfect way to funnel out your built-up energy. 

But you’re disgusted with yourself for giving in to him so easily. You just disregarded dignity and self-respect for a chance to get him between your legs. You were such a fucking idiot. No wonder this is all he wanted you for. 

“Shit,” you mutter, trying to pull yourself out of his grip. Your eyes widen as his arms tighten around your waist. He tugs you back down until he’s got you in what essentially feels like a headlock. He could easily pass it off as spooning, but it feels a little more demanding than that. “Logan,” you warn, the silent peace of the moment officially shattered. 

“Don’t,” he gripes. You can fight against him for as long as you want, but you’ll only tire yourself out. His arms are literally metal bands around you. “Let me talk and then you can run off.” You huff and wait, but he never speaks. Finally, you look over your shoulder and glare at him. “Well?”

You roll your eyes, “Fuck’s sake,” you mutter. “Alright, speak.”

You can feel his grin against the back of your head. If he didn’t have you in such a tight grip, you’d elbow him in the gut just to be petty. “I made a mistake,” you scoff and he keeps going. Stopping you from interrupting him with something bitchy. “You weren’t just something convenient to me, sweetheart.” he pauses and chuckles, “You’re a huge fucking pain in my ass.”

“Is this your idea of an apology?” You snap, “Because this is pathetic.” 

He doesn’t say anything and you’re tempted to snark at him again. But then the world is flipped on its side as he jerks you around and forces you to face him. Your chests rub together, the sweaty skin sticking together and bordering on uncomfortable. “You ever shut up?” He asks, but there’s no heat to the words. If anything he looks fond of you, and it makes you shift around, trying not to look him in the eye. But there’s nowhere for you to hide, you’re both naked and bare before each other. 

You’re as physically vulnerable as he must feel emotionally. And as much as this is a horrible way to display how he’s feeling, you’re starting to understand him a little better. You know why this conversation is so hard for him, why he can’t accept that someone truly loves him and he loves her back. 

But that’s not going to get him out of it. He’s still yet to say the words. Maybe if he manned up and said something real you’d consider forgiving him. You give him an expectant look and he sighs, forehead pressed against yours as he slumps over you. You want to pretend you’re annoyed at the contact, but you’ve been craving it since you ran away two weeks ago.

You’ve been desperate for this warmth that only he can provide you. Without realizing it, you nuzzle further into his chest, hands drifting up to wrap around his bare waist. Logan feels the tightness in him ease slightly at the way you curl into him. He’s got a shot, even if you try and tell him he doesn’t.  

It’s silent for a while, while you linger in the emotions of what just happened and he tries to find the right words. He leans down, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear and smiling against the shell of your ear. “I love you,” he whispers. 

You’d told yourself you’d only consider forgiving him if he said those words. But that’s only because you’d never thought he would actually say it. You didn’t think he was capable of admitting that to himself. It seems so out of character for him. But, maybe, you don’t know him as well as you thought you did. 

He pulls back, hand landing on your jaw and gently guiding your head out of his neck. He gives you an expectant look but you’re finding it hard to meet his eyes. You’ve been waiting for him to say that, but now it feels like you can’t. You’re still struggling to forgive him. He put you through so much unnecessary hurt just because he couldn’t face his own feelings. 

And now you’re struggling to do the same. “I want to say it back,” you tell him. “But how am I supposed to trust that the next time things get hard, you won’t lash out again?”

He frowns, an irritated huff of breath shooting out his nose. But you know it’s frustration towards himself. For letting you both get to this point because he couldn’t just say three words. “I’ll wait,” he promises. “For as long as it takes, I’ll wait.” 

You smile and nod, wrapping your arms around him and burying your face in his neck. You’re sure you’ll be saying it sooner rather than later. But what’s the harm in making him squirm a little? He deserves it. 

A/N: I don’t write smut, it’s literally in my rules. I think I stared at a gif of him for too long and some horny ass demon possessed me and made me write this. Forgive me, universe, I’m no better than a man.

end. — I do not own the characters or the comics/movies Wolverine/X-Men, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[happy74827]

Joyride

[Wade Wilson x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Remember kids, always look at the road when driving. It can help you avoid certain blabber mouths 🫶

WC: 2556

Category: Fluff, Annoying!Deadpool, 4th Wall Breaks, Insane Amounts of Profanity {TW: Deadpool (for obvious reasons)}

In honor of watching Deadpool 3 (super good btw), enjoy this random chaotic fic I created with the help of @yoursacredqueenmother. This is super chaotic lmfao

『••✎••』

Shit. Shit. Shit. SHIT.

A millisecond ago, you were driving down a street. In the middle of traffic. At a red light. Now, you were panicking, looking over the front of your car for the flash of red you had just seen. It took a couple of seconds for you to realize that there was blood on your car and on the ground—a lot of blood.

"Oh, shit. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, oh shit!"

You quickly hopped out of the car, rushing to the spot you thought the person… or thing would be, but… there was nobody. There was blood on the ground but nobody.

Did you hit a deer, and it just… ran off? No, that can't be right. You definitely saw something red, and it most certainly was not a deer.

You looked around, confused. How the hell does something bleed all over the ground and then disappear without a trace?!

You got back in your car, deciding to drive to the closest police station. Maybe they knew something about this.

So, you decided to abandon the shortcut home and drive to the nearest police station, which happened to be just down the road. But as you were minutes into the drive, you felt the sudden urge to look in your rearview mirror.

And there you found your mysterious red-suited victim in the backseat, holding the biggest knife you have ever seen as his white-covered eyes stared at you from behind the mask.

You never hit the brakes faster in your life. The car made an ugly screeching sound, and the sudden force slammed the red-clad man into the back of your seat, making him let out a surprised yelp.

The car finally came to a stop, and the masked man recovered quickly, pushing himself off of your seat and glaring at you.

"Well, aren’t you just a heart break—"

He didn’t get the chance to finish his sentence.

You grabbed your keys from the ignition and popped off the attached pepper spray, turning around and squirting him in the face. He let out a scream, and you quickly got out of the car, shutting the door and running as fast as you could.

Unfortunately, you didn’t get very far. Despite being hit by a car, and subsequently getting pepper sprayed, the man (or what you assume to be) caught up with you and blocked your path, his hands on his hips, his head cocked to the side.

"Alright, lady, what the fuck?" He asked, his voice sounding nasally, most likely because of the spray.

You stared at him, confused. He looked like he was waiting for an explanation.

"W-What the fuck?! What the fuck me? What the fuck you!" You exclaimed, your voice cracking a little. "What the fuck are you doing in my car?!"

"Well, I was trying to hitch a ride! But clearly, that didn't work out. Thanks a lot, by the way, for the pain and suffering. You’ve really opened up my horizons here."

It almost sounded like he was pouting.

"What the—! A ride?! Why in the hell would you just hop into someone's car?!"

"Uhh, because you ran me over, genius! I mean, come on, the least you could do is offer a guy a ride home after that. And then, the cherry on top of the fucking sundae: pepper spray!"

The masked man, so to speak, threw his arms up in the air, and you could almost see him rolling his eyes underneath the mask. Of course, that’s when you noticed the obvious broken bones in his hands. And the blood. There was a lot of blood.

"Look," the guy started, walking closer to you. "I know, I'm a big scary guy with a big scary knife and a bad temper and all, and you’re just… well, I’m sure you have an amazing personality, but how about we put all that aside, and you give me a ride, alright? Just drop me off at the corner of 10th and 55th, and you can forget this ever happened."

"You’re arm… your wrist. It's broken," you told him.

"Yeah, no shit," the man scoffed. "Got any Taylor Swift CDs in that car?"

"Uh… no, not really. Why?"

"Cause, baby, I’m Shaking It Off!"

There was a pregnant pause, and you weren't quite sure if he was being serious or not. I mean, surely he wasn’t about to just ignore the fact that his arm was the complete opposite of norm—

But when he shook his arm in a violent manner, and a loud crack followed suit, you realized, with a heavy heart, that yes, this guy was serious.

What you didn’t know until a few seconds later, however, was that he snapped his bones back into place like it was nothing. It took the flexing in his fingers to realize it, too.

"Holy shit." You truly were in awe.

He seemed to find amusement in your expression, tilting his head slightly and giving you a once-over. And, yes, you could feel his eyes on you, and for some reason, it sent a shiver down your spine.

"So… Wendy Torrance, about that ride? Can you give me a lift, or are we gonna start that chick flick moment where your mental breakdown leads to slow-motion running to a Sia song?"

You could only stare.

"Alright, well, if you're going through with the latter, then at least play something that doesn’t involve that little dancing girl who likes to wear potato sacks as clothes."

You couldn’t believe this was happening.

"You are literally insane." You breathed out, shaking your head.

Even if you couldn’t see it, something told you that he made the biggest grin underneath his mask.

"Why, thank you, darling."

Fast forward a couple of minutes, and you found yourself driving towards the address the red-suited stranger had given you. You couldn’t really make conversation. He had his hands in his lap, playing with a knife, and was staring at you, his head tilted.

"You can blink, you know. I'm not a zombie," he informed you, making a gesture to his mask and eyes, which you assumed he was blinking underneath.

"Right," you nodded.

“Well, mostly, at least. I mean, I still have a pulse, but it's kind of irregular, and I think it's because I keep getting shot and stabbed in the heart. Oh, and I guess I'm also pretty much immortal, so that's probably the reason. But I think the whole not-dying thing cancels out the heartbeat thing, right? Like, the more times you get impaled or decapitated or set on fire, the more it doesn’t matter because it doesn’t affect you anymore, am I right?"

You glanced at him. He was staring at you, his hands still and his knife resting on his leg.

"…Do you ever shut up?"

"Woah-hoho, feisty. And here I thought I was going to break the ice with a good ol' fashioned knock knock joke."

"I don’t think that would've been funny."

"That's what the last girl said."

"Oh yeah?"

"Mhm. Except she wasn’t talking about the joke. I made her laugh in a different way."

You glanced at him again, and he was giving you a knowing look.

"I can't decide if you're disgusting or not."

He hummed, shrugging his shoulders. That made him shut his mouth just long enough for you to turn on the radio but not long enough to avoid the inevitable.

"Hey, hey, I got a good one: Knock knock."

You let out a long sigh, closing your eyes. "Who's there?"

"Orange."

"Orange, who?"

"Orange you glad I'm not a serial killer?"

"That wasn’t even good."

"I know. It would've been better if I could've pulled the knife out of my belt. You know, just for show." He twiddled his fingers at you.

"That wouldn’t have helped," you said.

"Nope," he agreed. "But it would've made a great story."

"I suppose."

"Yeah. Hey, hey, I got another one: Knock knock."

"You just—"

"Knock knock."

You let out a huff. This man was the most childish, annoying, idiotic, strange, weird—

"Knock knock."

"Oh, just fucking tell me the joke!"

"No! It doesn't work that way!"

You rolled your eyes, but before you could answer, he beat you to it.

"Okay, okay, how about this: Knock knock."

You didn't say anything.

"Knock knock."

Your eyes flickered over to him for a second.

"Knock knock."

"For fucks sake!" You exclaimed. "Who's there?"

He leaned forward, closer to you, and you could see his mouth moving.

"Deadpool."

You were confused.

"D-Deadpool? Is this a reference to that shitty horror movie? If so, that wasn't even good, and I'm not laughing, and I don't get the joke."

He just gave you a blank look, or at least you thought he did.

"No. My name's Deadpool."

"That’s…" you trailed off. "A pretty dumb name. Like that outfit you're wearing."

"Hey! Diss the name all you want, but don’t you dare diss the suit. It's my trademark. Not everyone can pull off this type of look; it’s a very rare art."

"Whatever. You still haven't told me the punch line to your dumb joke."

"Punch line? I never said there was a punch line. It was a knock knock joke."

"So then… What was the point? To annoy the driver into wanting to run you over again?"

He chuckled, a low, deep sound that vibrated in his throat. That… That was… oh.

He was still close, and now, with the new angle, you could see the small, yet very visible, curve of his lips, and that made you wonder who was actually hiding behind the mask.

"You are seriously the strangest person I've ever met."

"Oh, babe, you don't even know the half of it."

"Please, enlighten me," you replied sarcastically, glancing over at him.

His masked eyes looked into yours, and you knew he was grinning; you could practically feel it.

"What do you wanna know?" He asked.

"Uh, I don't know. Something other than the fact that you're a nutcase. How about your real name? It's obviously not 'Deadpool,' and I doubt anyone actually calls you that. So, what's your actual name?"

"Oh, wow. Right off the bat, huh? You know, the last girl I was with wasn’t nearly as direct. Then again, she never sprayed me like I was a roach in her kitchen."

You didn’t respond. You kept your eyes on the road.

"Fine," he relented. "But don’t expect a happy ending. This isn’t Kanas anymore, Toto."

He leaned back in his seat, his arm hanging off the open window, the wind blowing through his red suit.

"Names Wade, like the boxers, but without the fancy pants."

You raised an eyebrow.

"Wade Winston Wilson, I love long walks on the beach, and a good movie, and tacos, and chimichangas, and guns. Especially guns. Kinky, but not too kinky… and did I mention the tacos? Cause I love fucking love tacos."

Maybe you should start carrying tape around.

"What about you, sugar lips?" He asked, gesturing to you with the hand he wasn’t leaning against. "Got a name, or can I call you mine? Ooh, I should’ve used that before the pepper spray. 'What's your name, or can I call you mine?' Classic, Wade. Well, except for the fact that I forgot the 'I'd like to hit it from the back' part. Damn, should have used that, too. It's a good thing they gave you the lead. Otherwise, the audience would've been confused. They would've been wondering, 'Why did the writer suddenly change the dialogue to be about sex? Wasn’t this supposed to be that pure Notebook love story we all wanted?'"

He paused for a moment.

"Wait a minute. Are we still doing the monologue thing, or is the writer done? Cause, no offense, but that was a shitty transition. And, come on, no one wants a Notebook love story anymore. Who writes those? What we need is a little romance and a whole lotta smut."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Me? Nothing, just giving some feedback. I've always had an open relationship with writers. Some might even call me the next J.K Rowling. Except, instead of a lighting scar and magic, I have an ass load of weapons with an insatiable lust for violence and blood. And tacos."

You decided to ignore him.

"Anyway, back to you. You never answered my question. Do you have a name or not?"

"I can’t believe I actually agreed to give you a ride home."

"Yeah," he said, sounding bored. "Why did you do that?"

"I don’t know. Because I hit you with my car and felt bad? You had a broken arm and were bleeding out all over the ground."

"First sign of insanity."

"What?"

"Nothing," his mask wiggled around the area of his eyebrows. "So, your name? Don’t tell me you’re gonna pull out the classic yes and no abbreviations. You know what? I’m just gonna call you Spidey. It's easier, and it’ll sound sexier when you're screaming it later."

You rolled your eyes, deciding just to ignore his comments for the rest of the drive. You were wishing that you didn't live in a city full of traffic cause, damn, this was taking a while.

"Alright, turn here."

You followed the directions and pulled up in front of an abandoned-looking building. You didn't say anything, but you did raise an eyebrow in question.

"What? A guy like me has to keep his place secret, especially when the fangirls are after him."

"I didn’t ask."

"Yeah, but I saw you wondering."

"Right."

"Hey, Spidey," he said, unbuckling his seat belt. "Thanks for the ride."

"No problem. Just make sure to keep your ass away from car bumpers. And out of my car."

"Awe, come on, baby cakes, don't be like that. You're really missing out. My ass is the finest in the business. Not to mention my package. You should see the reviews I get online."

You snorted. "I'll take your word for it."

"Yeah, you will," he said, leaning over and patting your cheek. "Hey, if you ever get lonely, or bored, or horny, or whatever, just give me a call. Here," he handed you a crumpled piece of paper. "Don't lose it, that's my number. We should totally bang, like, tomorrow, or tonight, or right now."

"Goodbye, Wade," you said, and he took it as his cue to leave. He gave a silly salute and exited the car, but not without giving you a wink first.

"See you soon, Spidey!"

With that, he walked up to the building and disappeared inside. With a sigh, you collapsed into the seat, not even bothering to watch him. You were exhausted, and all you wanted was to go home and sleep.

After a couple of minutes of relishing the nice breeze that came through the open windows, you sat up and un-crinkled the paper.

The only thing written on it was a phone number, with a small, messy, red heart and a few words that honestly had you questioning the sanity of the world:

'If you're lucky, maybe I'll even let you top. ;)'

——

Spoiler alert: it took about a month for the two of you to hook up.

And no, you did not have Domino’s luck.

[cosmictheo]

𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐒 | feyd-rautha

( gif credits to @wondrousashes )

—summary: on a calm day back at your home, you shattered away the serenity as you decide to confront feyd about his alleged concubines and the little secrets he seemed so cautious to hide, pushing him further and further to the edge. —pairing: feyd-rautha harkonnen x female!atreides!reader —word count: 4k —warnings: arranged marriage, jealousy, a bit of implied smut (the actual smut is coming up in the next and last chapter !!!), mentions of sex, mentions of cannibalism, feyd being a slut for the reader (as he should), mentions of killing and death, hot and very passionate love confessions, definitely ooc!feyd.

writer’s note: english is not my mother tongue, so please forgive me if there is a grammatical error. hope you like it!

ᯓ★ part one ── part two ── part three (coming soon)

The week at Giedi Prime went by so fast that you hardly noticed any of it. The first day had been a bit slow and tedious, but the ones that followed turned out to be more than agreeable and enjoyable, Feyd-Rautha had been very concerned about keeping you entertained and as comfortable as possible, showing you every corner of the palace and walking you around the city.

But for now, you were back at your home for the last visit you would have there before becoming a Harkonnen. Feyd was staying close to you through all the reunion, naturally, diplomatically greeting your family.

“You met his cannibal lovers yet?” Paul's voice echoed inside your head between Feyd's conversations with Duke Leto, your gaze drifting to your brother in absolute alarm, horrified at the question and relieved that, so far, the answer was negative.

“There are rumors that tell how his concubines feed on the hearts of his dead opponents.” Your brother propelled you with the oh-so-cute information about your future husband. “The bastard has not one, but three. I guess you'll have to battle it out with them for his love, that was Duncan said.”

“Stop it, don't be an idiot.” You snapped back at him, averting your gaze from him to Feyd-Rautha, who was conversing ever so formally with Lady Jessica now.

You couldn't imagine him eating of human flesh, nor fucking three different women at the same time. Although, rumors always started from something and during the few times you had been able to get inside Feyd's head, you hadn't seen anything that was remotely pretty or light.

Paul's words managed to resonate in your head, lingering between the walls with a sense of suspicion.

Maybe that was why he never showed you the intimacy of his chambers... because on his bed lay three women compliantly awaiting for his attention and lust.

For some reason, the false image of him fucking them, bodies intertwined and interlinked, voices whimpering and moaning, made you feel respulsive, your guts twisting like a serpent.

You didn't want to believe it was jealousy, but again, your mind never wanted you to believe anything at all.

The palace of the Atreides stood majestically between rocky mountains, with the golden sunlight falling beautifully on the grayish stone walls, bringing in a warm afternoon. Rising magnificently behind your back, standing like a rocky guardian.

Your gaze was on Feyd-Rautha as you walked together along the outskirts balconies of the castle, your greenish dress swaying in the sea breeze, as did your hair, which you wore unusually loose that day, the sweet smell of it had him crazy.

“Do you like it?” You asked him after a few moments of silence, with a hint of a smile that Feyd noticed as he turned to look at you, noticing as well how you waited expectantly for his opinion of your home, which he knew you always held close to your heart.

After a second, he nodded his head, looking at you intently. “I do.”

His blue eyes, which looked as clear as ever under the natural glow of the place followed you as you walked beside him, keeping himself close to you, he could feel the natural warmth of your body and the sweet smell of your scent.

It was the first time you saw his eyes showing their true color, for back in his home, they rarely reflected so much brightness and his orbs glowed so beautifully in the sunlight. They possessed the most beautiful shade of blue, reminding you of the ocean, of home.

“It's nothing like my home.” Feyd-Rautha added in a more amused, lighter tone of voice, with a tiny smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, lowering his gaze to the ground, noting how the grass softened each of his steps on it.

“Obviously. Caladan is everything that Giedi Prime and Arrakis are not.” You answered him, snorting the words out with a soft chuckle that was carried away by the wind, turning your head to look at him once you stopped at the edge of a greenish cliff after descending one of the many rocky staircases that rose up through the hills.

The sea stretched into the immensity of the horizon and the water was uncommonly calm, waves lapping the shore relentlessly. It was a calm and peaceful scene out there, quite the opposite of what you felt inside, as you felt a tempest of emotions raging in your soul.

“Have you been with someone else like this?”

There was another one of your little questions again.

And he pondered the answer, dragging his eyes as blue as the ocean itself in front of them, back to you.

But Feyd-Rautha was rather certain that you already knew the answer, that you already had it, you could tell by the way he looked at you and the way he addressed you. Because it was enough to be clear that he had never been this way with anyone before, he had never spoken to anyone like this and he had never been so pleased to be in someone's company, basically in his entire life.

“The only people I've ever had this close to me are my family or my enemies, neither of whom I think entertain my presence very much.” Was his reply, honest and respectful. His husky voice, in contrast to the graceful sea breeze was a pleasant and comforting noise to you.

His words were masked with a touch of amusement, as he used to do in the last days when he spoke to you, it seemed as if you brought back that inner child he had, a stranger who felt increasingly closer.

But even using that tone, his eyes told you that he was not lying, that he was giving you the pure truth.

Yet, somehow you were not satisfied with his response. And he knew it.

“Have you been with other women?”

Feyd drew in a breath, half-opening his lips, air hissing between his teeth.

“So I'm assuming you've heard about the rumors about me?”

And there he was, answering you with another question to challenge you back, to play with your head as he had grown to love to do during the short time you had been in each other's company. Your conversations always ended up being a game of back and forth, a game of a tension that would be cut with the least sharp blade.

“My future wife likes to guide what she believes by mere rumors?” He pressed further.

And as always, you exhaled the air held inside you, twisting your head slightly, looking at him with incredulous eyes. “These are not rumors, Feyd —I've seen it.”

His blue eyes narrowed as he walked closer to you, expression both intrigued and yet defiant. “What do you mean you've seen it? Don't play games with me now, woman.”

“Don't threaten me, man,” You squinted your eyes as you pronounced the word like poison, almost coming out like an insult. “I'm not afraid of you.” With your own response to his defiance, this immediately silenced him, stopping him in his tracks right in front of you, as you stepped closer to him, your presence growing menacing now. You were really upset. “Do you think that when I marry you I will allow you to go on screwing around with them?”

“You met them and they threatened you?” Feyd asked in a low tone, maintaining a calm demeanor, though he wanted to know if any of his concubines had dared to even glance at you during your stay at Giedi Prime. His orbs reflected a sensation that ranged to a murderous, bloodthirsty urge, not at you, but at anyone who was stupid enough to threaten you. “Tell me, did they say anything to you?”

You crooked your head very slightly, looking genuinely offended by his questioning.

“Do you think I would allow any of your concubines —anyone at all— to threaten me and go on with their lives?” You replied instantly, looking him up and holding his gaze, as brave as ever. You seemed to be the only one in the whole universe who dared to answer him and put him in his place. And he was loving it, he felt the desire to be broken by you, to let you destroy all his walls and reach his soul. “They'd already be dead if they did.”

An amused grimace twisted his lips, gaze darkening with pride, desire even, approving of your words, feeling suddenly small under the vastness of your aura, dark and menacing now.

“Don't worry about them.” His words sounded humorous this time, just as his fingers laced between yours, he gave your hand a gentle squeeze, an attempt to reassure you. “Soon I'll be all yours, sweet girl.”

You frowned your brow slightly, as did your lips, still looking offended. He squinted his eyes, hissing as he realized he had said the wrong thing, yet again.

“I'm not sweet.” Your hand released his, your annoyance rising with the seconds. “I'm not one of your pets you can treat as sweet, Feyd-Rautha.”

He raised his brow, following you with his gaze, puzzled, as you turned around and began to walk back to the palace, turning your back on him and leaving him to talk alone.

“One of my pets?” He questioned, with that amused grimace plastered on his mouth again, as he began to follow your hurried footsteps, his pale face reflected a blend of frustration and irritation. “Do you think I would treat you like one of my pets?”

His voice sounded so husky and frustrated and delicious that you felt like just stopping and jumping on him right there. But your own self-respect and pride were more important, you wanted to believe.

Seeing that you weren't planning to stop, Feyd tried to stop you by grabbing your arm, but his hand remained over your smooth skin, with no major result in trying to calm you down, so he cleared his voice, making the attempt to be as cautious and reassuring with his words.

“I think you must understand that desire and lust is something we all possess, my lady, not just men.”

He was physically relieved when you stopped to be able to look at him, with his hand lingering on your forearm.

But your eyes were still dark with discomfort when they met his once again. “I won't be one of your girls, Feyd-Rautha.”

His lips parted, brow furrowing slightly, his voice kept low. “(Y/N)—”

He stood right there, utterly speechless, with his voice caught in his throat, watching you walk away from him, striding with steps that exuded pure anger up to your rocky palace. His hand dropped from your arm and returned to his side, now far from your warmth and heartbeat.

It took Feyd-Rautha a couple of minutes to pull himself together, sighing heavily, a small smirk curving his lips as he began to walk the path back to the Atreides' palace.

He was absolutely thrilled to discover this side of you that he hadn't previously seen. You were truly frightening and he was loving it.

By the time the moon was bright in the center of the dark sky, shining through the thickness of black, a pair of soft knocks sounded against your chamber door and you didn't have to use any hint of your skills to know who it was.

He looked at you with those now dark blue eyes from across the threshold, arm resting lightly against the grayish stone. He looked strangely troubled, look shadowed.

“Have you always been such a perfect seductress?”Feyd asked you just as you made a questioning gesture with your head. “How many men have you seduced like this?”

You looked him up with doubting eyes, frown slightly furrowed. “What are you talking about—”

He interrupted you in a scratchy voice, fearing somehow, that someone else might hear him, that someone else might witness how desperately vulnerable he was being, for you.

“You've broken me. All I can think about is you.”

Feyd took one step forward and you one step back, so you two moved as if you were in a kind of dance until he eventually entered your chambers, pulling the door shut behind him.

“I can't handle not touching you. It's a rule I'm on the brink of breaking for you.” He whispered and your breath caught in your throat, exhaling air in a stuttering gasp. “And I should— I'm expected to be a gentleman. I'm supposed to behave myself, keep my composure. But you… you are driving me crazy, woman, you play with my head, you've bewitched me.”

You could really see that he was trying to explain himself for you, attempting to articulate everything that was going through his head and you knew that it was very unusual for him to speak out loud about his feelings. And now, you were the one who couldn't say anything at all.

It was true, the most important rule your mother had emphasized to you was that you were not to get involved sexually, or in any way with your betrothed, until the very day of the actual wedding, as that particular night was meant to be consumed.

“Y—you shouldn't be here, my lord.” You managed to utter out after a few hesitant stutters, feeling your back brush against the wall and having him in front of you, trapping you against his body. He seemed to be struggling against his body, against his desire and instinct, hesitant hands twitching at his sides, nearly reaching out instinctively for your body.

“You were so bold back there talking back to me, what happened now? Aw, what happened, pretty?” He asked in a more teasing tone of voice, holding your gaze. “We could put that mouth of yours to good use then, hm?”

“My lord—”

“Call me by name.” He demanded, he begged you, whispering.

“Feyd...” You named him so obediently that it made him smile darkly to himself. “Someone might listen.”

“Are you afraid that someone will find out that two people who are getting married desired each other?” Feyd asked, half-closing his eyes and breathing out through his nose, as if trying to compose himself, trying to convince himself more than you. “There is nothing wrong for a husband to crave for his wife, right?”

You gulped, and his eyes instantly landed on your throat, watching as bone and muscle moved beneath the flesh, his tongue twitched, aching with all his will to be able to just lick the skin of your neck.

“I guess not.” Your voice trembled even when you were trying extra hard to sound confident and certain. “But we are not yet husband and wife.”

“Soon...” Feyd muttered, almost as if he was making a promise, uttering a vow.

His eyes closed as he finally rested his forehead against yours and suddenly, you were breathing from the same air. His trembling breath was warm against your lips and his scent was everything you could have ever craved... and it felt so familiar that your soul seemed to shudder, like something you had smelled all your life, something that had haunted you even in dreams, forever present but yet always so far distant.

“Can I touch you?” Feyd breathed out against your mouth after a few moments.

You didn't answer him verbally, instead you slowly took his hands between yours, fingers placing them in parallel against his, allowing you to feel every inch of the imprint drawn on his fingertips as you dragged yours across his palm, both feeling the size difference.

Then, you rested his big, calloused hands on your waist, allowing him to touch and hold you as much as he wanted and to permit him to do so, a single sight on your eyes was all it took.

He hissed as his hands molded the curve of your waist and instantly afterward drew you into his body, pulling you fully against the wall behind you. Your back arched instinctively and you gasped too, so softly, your chest pressed against his with the motion.

“Touch me.” Feyd-Rautha pleaded, he had never pleaded so... desperately for anything ever in his life.

That was your allowance for your hands reaching for his body, out of control, one making a slow path up through his strong arms while the other rested against his chest, feeling the beat of his heart under your palm, beating echoing your own. Your fingertips gently patted his muscles, recognizing his skin and his body. You got the abrupt urge to claim it as yours. To claim him.

You felt yourself blushing at all the overly imaginative and lustful images of him invading your head.

His nose brushed against yours, nuzzling it affectionately, still without opening his eyes, as if he were in some kind of dream from which he didn't want to wake up. His fingers caressed your belly, tracing a slow caress across your entire abdomen upward, while his other hand gripped your waist, holding you against him.

His touch triggered an immediate reaction across your flesh, skin shivering under his fingers.

Feyd whispered your name like a prayer, like a thirsty man, crawling and screaming for water.

“I'm trying to be good...”

“Don't be.” You whispered back, almost begging, looking up at him, gaze meeting his once he opened his eyes. “Please, Feyd—”

Then finally his lips landed on yours, initiating a kiss that you both craved so much, maybe he more than you for the way he brought you close to him, almost possessively, like a mad man, almost as if he was imprinting his mark on you, marking you for whoever had the courage to look at you.

He let himself sink in the way your lips fit against yours, in the warmth your body offered him, in the all too familiar sensation he could sense in every single fiber of his core from the kiss, your kiss.

Feyd-Rautha felt like a roaring beast just unleashed, ruthless and insatiable, just like when he walked into the arena, eager to kill, rooting against his opponents —and now he was rooting for you, to be near you, to intertwine his soul with yours, to claim you as his own.

And claiming you he was, his scent covered you all over now, making you feel a burning sensation in the pit of your stomach, throbbing crotch, blood seething like an infernal flare. Anyone who came near you would not only smell you, but him too, on every inch of your body. His hands roamed just under your breasts, rubbing across your ribcage and sliding down your back, fingers just barely grazing your ass, pressing you tightly against him in desperation, grasping and squeezing as much of your tender flesh as they could.

Your own palms roamed up his chest, caressing his broad shoulders, all the way up to his neck, tugging him closer to you in desperate motions, impossibly close.

When your bodies begged for oxygen, you broke the passionate kiss, leaving you both breathless. He kissed you once more, allowing you to breathe just for a few seconds before all you breathed was him. He wanted to become your oxygen, something indispensable to you, something you needed to live with, a necessity.

“You're the only one.” Feyd-Rautha mumbled out as his hot and soft lips trailed down a wet path all the way to your neck, tracing the line of your jaw with sloppy kisses, each time his lips pulled back from your skin a wet noise echoed and filled the room, making you gasp.

You could feel the way his lips were modulating each word against your skin, as if using a language so intimate and so tight that it took your breath away. A language known and used just between the two of you.

With desirous eyes he looked at the dark crimson mark he'd left on your throat before raising them across your flushed face, his hands cradling your jaw, thumbs caressing your skin tenderly.

“When my uncle gave me the announcement that I was to marry you, I kicked them all out.” He continued to explain, pecking your lips a couple of times before kissing each cheek, your forehead, your eyelids, your nose, every single feature of your entire face, with the utmost care and adoration.

No one had ever looked at you the way he was looking at you right now.

Feyd rasped out a small chuckle, breath warm tickling against your nose. “And by kicking them out I mean I killed them.”

His comment didn't surprise you at all, in fact, it didn't even provoke a reaction in you. During the week you had been in his company, you had already gotten used to Feyd-Rautha's -almost cruel- honesty and sassy remarks, you were just starting to get used to his very eccentric and unique attitude. Because the na-Baron's personality was something that was most captivating to you, he was so different yet so similar to you.

“Of course.” You replied, trying to hold back that dark grin on your lips, an action that caused him to kiss you once more, his attention was on your mouth the whole time as you spoke to him in that tone of voice. “I would expect nothing less from the Feyd-Rautha and for my future husband.”

Again he rested his forehead against yours and you were the one who kissed his lips this time. It had become a reassuring habit in a span of less than five minutes for both of you.

“I can't do anything to you until we get married, my uncle would find out otherwise. I have —we have— to behave, my love.”

He seemed to read your mind this time, or maybe it was the way you were looking at him, biting your lower lip gently, eyes darkened with desire, silently begging him to just take you right there against the wall when he called like that.

Perhaps Feyd-Rautha was a hopeless romantic just like you or he simply desired you in ways that went beyond mere sex or plain lust.

“Are you afraid of him?” You softly asked him, your fingers stroking the back of his neck, feeling the smoothness of his skin. Your fingertips followed the trail of one of his veins marked on his neck, making him gasp lightly.

“Have you seen him?” Feyd responded with another question, a curved little smile on his lips, his tone of voice directed pure sarcasm. “I don't think I'm in such a position as to challenge the Baron.”

You nodded your head, fingers stroking his cheekbones now, tapping the moles that spread across his face affectionately. “He's terrifying.”

Your heart seemed to melt as you watched him close his eyes and lean against your hand, kissing the palm in action.

“Mhm...” Feyd hummed, watching you attentively, as if he was memorizing every inch of your face. Suddenly, his expression changed to one of amusement.

“Were you seriously jealous of my darlings?”

Your heart seemed to drop to your stomach and burn with your guts as you heard the nickname fall from his mouth.

“Call them that again and I'll cut your throat.” You murmured against his lips, kissing them slowly before pulling away from his body, looking up at him with dark, yet playful eyes, your hand roaming across his chest until it fell to your side as you stepped away. Then you made your way towards your bed with a very slow pace, under the attentive gaze of his azure eyes following every movement of your hips.

His heart —apparently non-existent until then— was pounding like crazy inside his chest as his lips parted, for once again you had left him speechless.

That was living proof that you were simply made for him. And he for you.

And maybe that just meant you were each other's weakness, people would say so.

But he felt just invincible in your presence, as if your company made him behold the whole universe, gave him the power of the all galaxy at hand, making him feel like the only man in existence. Your man.

Feyd-Rautha had never felt so desperate to make you his wife and finally call you his.

[jamespotterismydaddy]

Capture the Flag

luke castellan x reader

pt 2

A/N: now that i'm writing for other fandoms, feel free to let me know if you only want to be on a hotd taglist. But now, please enjoy the strongest swordsman in camp halfblood

TW: MAJOR SMUT, slight bondage, rough smut, violence, lowkey dark(ish)!luke

word count: 1,699 words

You want Luke Castellan’s head speared on your sword.

It’s like you spend every minute preparing for capture the flag because of him. He spends every last minute of each game cutting down your teammates and stealing your flag, so now it’s time to change the tactic. You ditch your father’s usual battle advice of going for the kill and hope that defence is the best offence for once. You also pray that he will guide your sword anyhow. So there you stand, guarding your flag with two of your most vicious teammates. You dodge the blue team’s first attack that was supposed to draw you off. You may have a short temper but you aren’t stupid. And you’re more than pleased to see the look of surprise on Luke’s face as he approaches.

“Fucking Ares kids.” He grumbles, sword drawn.

“Were you not expecting me, Castellan?” You ask with a vengeful smirk.

He goes right for you. You’re the biggest threat there but he likes to think you’re not even close to his skill level. You would believe that the man plans to cut you down and then your teammates. He always aims for the glory of it all.

“How’s your team gonna get our flag if you’re here?” He asks as he makes the first swing. It’s much better to start off on offence and he’s the one coming at you.

“Who cares. When you’re done, so is your team.” You block him, hating to be on defence but he’s too quick.

“Gods, you didn’t plan ahead of that? There really isn’t anything in that pretty little head of yours, is there? Other than rage of course.”

  You’re a hothead. He knows it. You know it and it doesn’t take much to rile you up. When you’re riled up, you get sloppy. At this point, you don’t care if he guts you, you go for the little fucker’s ankles. You’re actually surprised when he stumbles from blocking your attack. It’s a stupid mistake, especially for him. Though, you aren’t going to let a chance like this slip by. You keep pushing him back, trying to leave him no chance to think in between swings. He trips over a log behind him, the sword falling from his hand. He has no chance now, not on the ground and you won’t be letting him get up.

“Who’s the idiot now?” 

He looks at you as you approach slowly, taunting him. He then grabs his sword and makes a break for it. You’re too shocked to even keep him down.

What the fuck.

You don’t think you’ve ever seen Luke Castellan run from a fight. Not in your 4 years at camp. So you chase after him.

He’s fast, faster than you but you push yourself. He trails away… and away. Then you lose him. 

“Godsdamnit!” You scream into the woods as you jog around where you last saw him. 

You know you can’t stray for long if you’re not fighting Luke so you turn to make your way back to the flag. That’s when he jumps out at you with his sword swinging. You barely have time to block and it puts you off your balance. He swings at you again and again. You fall as you continue to block the merciless strikes. You’re practically holding your sword in the air and hoping for the best. The best doesn’t come as the weapon flies from your hand. He descends on you, straddling your waist as he holds the blade to your throat. He’s smirking.

“You don’t try nearly hard enough.” He says to you. “I know you’re not very clever but hades, my teammates probably already have the flag over the barrier.” 

That’s when you realize how easily you were deceived. Luke didn’t run from you because you bested him; he ran to draw you off. It was a pathetically simple plan and it worked. The heat rises to your cheeks from humiliation. He grabs your two hands and pins them above your head, his grip gentle but also firm.

“I’ll put you in your grave.” You spit out at him.

“Will you now? While I have you essentially restrained?” He’s clearly amused.

You struggle beneath him with all your force but all you manage to do is roll your hips against him, earning a groan from the man. You feel it too, the burning ache between your thighs. You want him. Worse yet, he wants you.

“Let me up.” 

“No. I think you quite like how I have you pinned to the ground.” He smirks.

“You’re delusional.”

“You’re wet.”

He slips a knee between your thighs and rubs it against your clothed pussy. It takes everything in you not to whimper.

“S-Stop.” You stutter out.

“Make me.” He murmurs, continuing to make you grind down on his knee as he leans down and forces you into a hot kiss. You hate how you kiss back, so hungry for him. Your mind is clouded with lust for a moment before you realize the advantage he is giving you. You never technically conceded.

As swiftly as you can, you wrap your free leg around his waist and use your whole strength to throw him off you, startling him enough to free your hands.

“You bitch.” He groans as you jab him in the stomach to try and give yourself enough time to grab your sword but it doesn’t work. He grabs you by the ankle and yanks hard. You slam to the ground right on your stomach. He moves to restrain you by sitting on your thighs so you can’t move your legs and holds your hands behind your back. You clearly didn’t consider how inevitably stronger he is than you.

“Shit.” You whine. His hold isn’t nearly as gentle this time.

“That was a cheap fucking shot.” He says cruelly. He’s pissed now.

“Fuck you. Castellan!” Gods it goes straight to his dick when you call him by his last name. He grips your hair with his free hand and pulls back hard so you have to look at him. You whine again at the sharp pain.

“You just can’t play fair, can you, princess? Maybe I won’t either then.”

 He drops your head and you hear him rustling with something. You realize it’s his belt when you feel the leather against your wrists. He’s binding you.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Your voice is full of rage but to him, you just sound petulant. 

 “What you need.” Is his simple answer.

He shifts down so he sits, or rather kneels, with your legs between his. He’s amused by your renewed writhing as an attempt to escape. It is pitiful really. Oh well, he’ll have you writhing for a different reason soon enough.

His fingertips glide across your waist, to your hips and then to your thighs, causing your back to arch upwards slightly, your stomach dipping. He brings his lips down to your ear, his voice is deep and lustful as he says, “Your body seems to know what it wants.”

“I’ll kill you.” You promise.

“Oh, i’m sure you will. But right now, you fucking belong to me.” He yanks on your hair again so you have to look at him and your eyes water from the pain. “I think you like me hurting you.” His other hand slips between your thighs to rub your clit and you let out a strangled moan. “For a girl who is so controlling, it’s interesting how badly you enjoy me manhandling you.”

He yanks your pants down and slips your helmet under your hips so your ass stays high in the air with your chest to the ground.

“This is fucked up.” You say.

“You love it. Your panties are soaked.” And he’s completely right. You’ve never been so turned on before but not a lot of men are as strong and good-looking as Luke Castellan.

He pulls your panties down and groans at the sight of your dripping pussy. He begins to palm himself through his pants and unzips them. “You have about three seconds to tell me if you don’t actually want this.”

You are silent and he chuckles. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” 

Before you can even prepare yourself or form a thought, his fat cock is shoved inside of you, splitting you open.

“Ah, Luke!” You moan at the pain and pleasure.

“Gods, this is the tightest little pussy i’ve had.” He begins to fuck in and out of you relentlessly, giving you no time to adjust. “Yeah, you’re good for me now, baby. Such a good little cocksleeve.” He punctuates his last words with hard thrusts, the head of his cock bullying into you each time.

All you can do is repeat his name like a mantra as you get pounded on the forest floor by the strongest swordsman in camp. It’s even worse as he begins to rub your clit again, sending you so close to the edge.

“Never gonna have enough of you after this.” Luke murmurs as he feels you squeezing around him. “My good girl.” 

That’s what sends you tumbling over the edge, bringing Luke with you as you do. He never could’ve kept going, not with the way your walls were squeezing around him. He pulls out almost instantly so he can watch his cum spill out of you. He doesn’t wipe it. He just pulls your panties back on and fixes the both of you up. You’re thoroughly spent, he can tell by the way you pant as he releases your wrists.

“You okay?” He asks as he helps you sit up. He grabs your hands so he can kiss the marks on your wrists. After all you’ve done, that’s the act that makes you blush furiously. 

“Um, yeah.” You breathe out.

“I’ll be nicer next time, I promise. Somebody just had to put you in your place first.” He grins wolfishly.

“Next time?” 

That’s when you hear the horn. The blue team has won again.

He pecks a kiss to your cheek. “Time to claim my kleos.” He says cockily before jogging off to meet his team.

taglist (comment to be added):General: @valeskafics @urmomsgirlfriend1 @girlwith-thepearlearring @darylandbethfanforever9 @lovellies @juhdoche @papichulo120627 @watercolorskyy @ophelialaufey @aerangi

[prythianpages]

But the Worms | Azriel

Azriel x Green Witch | Azriel is woken up by your daughter in the middle of the night to answer some of her questions.

warnings: fluff, dad Az

word count: 943

a/n: Just a short little fic that can be read as a stand alone. This was inspired by a scene from Bob's Burgers lol.

Rain pattered against the window steadily, accompanied by the distant rumble of thunder. Every so often, the sky would flare with a jagged streak of lightning, briefly illuminating the room with a cold, blue light before plunging it back into shadow. The storm was a familiar, comforting backdrop to Azriel’s slumber.

But his shadows, ever vigilant, stirred with a whisper of unease.

Azriel’s eyes fluttered open, drawn by the shift in his shadows. That’s when he heard them. The faint, hurried sound of small footsteps. His shadows fluttered toward the door as they sensed the hesitant shuffle against the wooden floor.

He didn't need his shadows to tell him who was on the other side. Had it been his first born, he'd never hear the steps as she loved to sneak up on him,. The door would've been open abruptly with no hesitation whatsoever but it's been years since she last had a nightmare. A nightmare she didn't welcome, at least.

That was not the case tonight. It was his second-born. Sweet little Alora, who, true to her name, should be dreaming of unicorns and rainbows as she loved to recount to him every morning, rather than being awake.

His gaze flickered to you. While Azriel was a light sleeper, you were a heavy sleeper and truth be told, you were sound asleep, back turned toward him. A shadow tenderly caressed your back before he shifted his attention back to the door. He was already sitting up in the bed, blinking away the sleep or at least trying when the door opened quietly, muted with the help of his shadows.

Alora stood at the door. Her hair, the exact shade of yours, was disheveled, the bangs she cut herself last week splayed over her forehead awkwardly. A rite of passage, you had called it, reminding him that your first born had done the same.

Her eyes, the exact shade of his, were wide and glistening, and there was a pout on her face.

Azriel’s chest tightened at the sight, wanting nothing more than to soothe whatever troubled her, despite his fatigue. He extended his arms out, and Alora ran right into them, her small frame immediately enveloped by his.

Cradling her to his chest, he pushed her bangs back and pressed a gentle kiss to her temple. “Did you have a nightmare?” He asked, voice still heavy with sleep.

“No. I haven’t slept at all,” she whispered, her voice trembling slightly.

Azriel frowned, glancing at the clock. It was well past midnight, and his eyes were begging for sleep, lulled by the rain falling outside. “Is it the storm?”

Alora placed her hands on his chest, pushing herself up slightly. She spared a glance to your sleeping form before leaning in closer to her father, careful not to wake you with her voice. Though, Azriel doubted you'd wake at all.

Her hazel eyes, so innocent and pure, stared into his own. “Do you think worms have dreams too?”

Azriel's heart softened further. Her worries were so small, so wonderfully trivial compared to the burdens he had carried as a child.

“I’m sure they dream,” he murmured, gently pulling his daughter's head back to his chest, wishing for her to always have such simple worries. He also hoped she’d be content with his answer and finally drift off to sleep herself.

“But what do they dream?”

“The same things you do.” He replied, trying to stifle a yawn. He snuck a glance at you, still oblivious to your daughter’s insatiable curiosity.

“Do they get nightmares too?” 

Azriel fought back his groan. He loved his daughters deeply and strongly. He would go through all ends of the world for them. Any other time, he would entertain this conversation fully, but it was late, and Alora should be fast asleep like her sister. 

“Mel says worms come out when it storms so that we don’t hear their cries.”

Speak of the little devil herself. Mel was sure to get an earful from him. Tomorrow morning, or rather, in a couple of hours. Azriel took a deep breath, trying to muster the energy to explain, his body aching for rest.

Azriel could hear the thoughts swirling through her mind as she continued. “Why would they cry? Is it because of the bad dreams?”

“Don’t listen to your sister,” he said gently, running a hand through Alora’s tousled hair.

“But you told me to listen to her yesterday morning.”

“I did,” Azriel replied with a slight grimace, regretting that decision immensely at this very moment. Granted, he had said that after Mel told Lor to stop riling up Sprinkles, her pet scorpion. “But that’s different.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I’ll explain tomorrow,” he said, his voice a mix of patience and weariness.

“But the worms–”

“The worms don’t have nightmares and they come out during storms because they love the rain. Now, go to sleep. Please.”

Alora let out a small gasp, her hand losing its tension against his chest. “You promise?”

“Yes.” Azriel replied quickly, not certain what exactly he was promising. He'd deal with it later.

“Okay.”

When he finally felt her body relax in his arms, he let out a breath of relief. He held her tighter in his arms, shifting them to face in your direction before settling Alora between you both. He didn’t have the energy to take her back to her bed.

He gladly gave in to the heaviness of his eyelids, his eyes closing shut and ready to embrace sleep under the comfort of the rain once more--

"Daddy?"

He didn't bother opening his eyes. "Yes?"

"I love you."

His lips tugged up into a smile. "I love you too, my sweets."

Alora snuggled closer to him, tiny hands grasping onto his larger one and placing it over her face. She always found comfort in his touch, despite the scars that marred his hands. It was something that never failed to make his chest swell with warmth. Along with the way both his daughters always looked up to him, eyes full of affection and admiration.

His thumb caressed her cheek, soothing her as his shadows settled back into their corner of the room, curling into the bed Alora had gotten them for Solstice this year.

For centuries, his shadows had slept among other shadows, usually underneath the bed or in the corners of rooms. But Alora had felt bad for them one night, and when shopping for Solstice this year, she had asked you to take her to the pet store and picked out the softest bed for Azriel’s shadows.

Though his shadows had never complained or shown any interest in comfier sleeping habits, they had vibrated with excitement at the sight of the gift. Now, they slept there every night, happy and content, snuggling amongst one another and curling into a ball.

As his thoughts began to blur and drift, the world around him softened, the edges of his awareness becoming fuzzy and indistinct. Now that he knew your daughter was okay and her curiosity satiated, he could go back to sleep.

His breathing slowed, deep and even, matching the gentle rise and fall of your own breath. Just as he was about to give in to the sweet embrace of sleep–

“Daddy?”

He could barely manage a grunt in response.

“Would you still love me if I were a worm?”

Oh, this was definitely your daughter.

series tag list:@fxckmiup, @aria-chikage

General tag list: @scooobies, @kennedy-brooke, @sillysillygoose444, @lilah-asteria @the-sweet-psycho

@daycourtofficial, @milswrites, @stormhearty, @pit-and-the-pen, @mybestfriendmademe

@loving-and-dreaming @azriels-human, @mrsjna

[gemstone-roses]

Keep me warm

Summary: reader is terrified of storms, soaking wet, she shows up at hannibals door, terrified and needing comfort. Size kink. Cock warming.

Warnings: 18 plus only. NSFW, descriptions of a panic attack, cock warming, size kink, smut, hurt/comfort. You know the drill.

A:N- thankyou for requesting this I have been thinking about this scenario ever since! Hope your okay! Much love ❤️. I know you said you'd be fine with hc but you get a whole fic instead🥰 also I got rained on so much last week and now I'm full of cold I HATE this time of year ugh. I hope you like this I really do 🥰🥰

This might be one of my favourite things I've written.

You regret every decision you've made leading up to this point.

Grey clouds gather above you, you look up, wincing.

You thought you could make it home before the rain. Only wearing a light jacket, definitely not equipped for the kind of weather about to unleash on your head.

Fuck you whisper, hands clenching as thunder rolls in.

You shove your jacket off and hold it above your head in a pathetic attempt to retain at least a bit of dignity. You know you can't make it home with the storm, your anxiety already heightening with every crack you hear.

But you can make it to hannibal.

He's the only one who knew of your fear. Having to reveal it one day when you were both on the way to a crime scene.

The rain falls hard on the front of the car, wipers working overtime to clear it, your amazed hannibal can even see through the haze of rain. Your breath hitches as you hear the beginnings of a storm. You hoped he didn't notice. But this is hannibal. Of course he did. He glances over at you, sees your chest heaving and pulls over.

"Y/N" he says softly, shifting in his seat to face you.

But the rain is coming down so fast and hard and it's like you can feel it, in your soul. Your head spins as you try and take a deep breath. Hannibal places his hand on your thigh and squeezes, once again calling your name. When you don't look at him, he reaches out and grips your chin gently.

His face is flooded with concern

"I- can't

You push your hand into your chest, trying to ease the weight that's settled there.

"I know, I know, y/n, keep your eyes on me, okay?" Hannibal soothes.

You force yourself to keep looking at him, his big hand still rests cupping your chin, applying a slight pressure.

"Good" he smiles, hannibal weighs up the options in his head. Getting out of the car is out of the question, and he asks "do you trust me?" And you nod, so hannibal unclips your belt and says "Come here" before pulling you onto his lap. He immediately holds you tight, pushing you into his chest. "It'll be over soon my love" he soothes as he holds you against him. You can hear his heart beat as you lay on him, and eventually it calms you.

By the time you knock frantically at his door, your positively soaking wet, teeth chattering, tears blending in with the rain running down your face.

Hannibal opens the door and your hit instantly with a wall of warm. His brow furrows in concern as he takes in your state.

"S-storm" you mutter, looking down at the floor before you feel two hands wrap around your waist and pull you into the house.

Hannibal immediately pulls you into his embrace, placing a gentle kiss to your forehead. You shrink into his embrace, his presence beginning to melt away the fear you felt.

Shivers rack your body, cold setting in, hannibal holds you tighter.

'I've got you' he says.

"Come on, let's get you warmed up hm?" His hand comes to cup your face as he speaks.

He leads you to the lounge, where the fire is roaring.

"Let's get out of those wet clothes my love" he says, his hands rest lightly on your waist. Waiting.

You look at him, his eyes blown wide, hannibal swallows visibly.

"Would you like me to leave while you change?" He asks.

"No" you whisper.

Hannibal lifts your soaking shirt over your head. His breath catches in his throat as he does, lips parted slightly as he takes you in.

You slip out of your pants just as hannibal places the dry shirt over your head. It falls just below your knees.

Hannibal runs his fingers over your neck "you, are exquisite" he says, slightly breathless.

Heat rises to your face, warming you. Your still shivering slightly though, and hannibal of course, notices.

"Come here" he whispers, sitting down on the sofa and pulling you on top of him.

You let out a moan as you feel his cock against you, sitting deliciously against your core.

Hannibals cock hardens even more at the noise you made.

"Your still colder than I'd like darling" he says seriously, running his hands up and down your exposed thigh.

"Mm" is all you manage to say.

"I was working on my memory palace, when you knocked"

"M sorry" you mutter, ducking your head.

Hannibal tuts, lifting your chin to look at him.

"No, do not apologise, but, I do need to finish my thoughts" he says as his cock twitches.

"How about we stay like this until I'm done hm? And then I'll cook and you can spend the night?" He asks.

You nod.

"Words, darling" hannibal says sternly.

"Yes" you breathe out.

You shift slightly, his clothed cock pushing against you making you drip with need.

Hannibal grips your hips and stills you.

"Not until I'm finished" he grins. Before pushing you back slightly so he can free his cock from his pants.

You watch in awe as his thick cock springs up against his stomach.

Hannibal places his hands back on your hips before guiding you to sit on his cock.

You close your eyes, pleasure overtaking you as he sinks inside.

"No my love, you keep your eyes on me" he says, his voice gravelly.

"Hanni, please" you whisper, his cock filling you stretching you so good.

He ignores you. Continuing his thoughts as he twitches his cock every now and then inside you.

He keeps one hand gripping your chin, looking at him as you warm his cock.

"You feel so good, sitting on my cock like this, so perfect" he says.

Your chest heaves at his words.

"M so full, please, I need you" you choke out, feeling every ridge of his cock inside you, he pushed himself up on the couch slightly, causing him to hit another spot inside you.

"Fuck" you cry out.

Hannibal smirks, before wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into him. He begins to trace small patterns on your back.

"Hanni, it feels so good" you whisper into his chest, clenching around him.

"I know my love, just a bit longer I promise, your doing so well for me".

You whine at his words, and hannibal keeps talking to you like that, you relax into him, his cock still snug inside you as he holds you, warming you up, as you warm his cock.

[wandurlvst]

Siblings

ken sato x gn!reader one shot

notes: ALMOST 700 NOTES (as of editing this) ON MY FIRST KEN SATO ONE SHOT WHAT TY!!??!

warnings: none! just emi and your daughter being the cutest siblings ever

“how do you think emi would handle it?” you and ken were heading back from the hospital, with your newborn daughter sleeping soundly in your hands, “it’ll be fine. don’t worry. she’ll probably be happy she has someone other than us or mina to play with her.” ken chuckled, “or she’ll freak out and be jealous daddy has his attention elsewhere where.” you joked—adjusting the blanket the baby way wrapped in, to better protect her from the cold japanese weather hitting the island

“she won’t. you saw what happened when she met you.” “she shot a laser at me, ken.” he froze, “okay, yes, but after that- you two got along really quick!” “shh!” “sorry…” he brought his voice down again for the baby

you pulled into the driveway and ken got out of the car, coming around to your side of the vehicle and opening the door for you. when you stepped out completely he closed the door and grabbed the baby carrier and any other items you two brought to the hospital. you ascended the stairs and tried opening the door but ken insisted on doing it for you. “you’re already carrying so much hon.” you pointed out, “you have the baby which is way more important than a few bags.”

he plucked the house keys from his pockets and pushed the door open for you. when you stepped inside mina was there to greet you two. “welcome home. how is the baby?” she floated in front of the newborn. “she is healthy.” you smiled, “that is very good to hear.” mina said

“how has emi been, mina?” ken placed everything down next to the door, he took your daughter from your hands to relive you. “she has been fine. though, she misses both of you. the photos and videos can only last so long.” mina floated to the elevator and the two of you joined her. descending to the basement, emi was sitting in the middle watching said videos and photos of you and ken, but also playing with her giant toys ken had for some reason

“there’s our girl.” ken smiled and emi turned around to the familiar voice. she chirped loudly and got up to run to you two which almost woke your daughter. “shh shh emi.” ken held his finger in front of his mouth and emi. she was confused at what ken was doing and became quiet once more—tilting her head in curiosity. “we have someone we want you to meet emi.” you told her

ken turned your daughter to face emi, while she was still sound asleep. the infant chirped again and leaned. she tapped the baby with her beak and she started crying. you placed your hands on her leg and she lunged back at the sudden cry of the other baby.

ken handed your daughter to you while he comforted emi, you moved your body around to try and calm her. which worked, but now she was wide awake. “seems like she isn’t sleeping anytime soon.” ken commented once he got emi to calm down

you two tried introducing the baby again, this time she was smiling at emi. reaching out to the kaiju—opening and closing her hands. your daughter babbled at the sight of the cute creature and emi leaned in. she laughed and was entertained by the smaller human.

you two stood there together in silence, watching the newborns interact with each other. their laughter and joy filled the echoing basement.

this was so RUSHED AND SHORT i apologize 😭 but it’s been two days and i wanted to get something out fast but sweet at the same time

[sexilene]

boy nextdoor!jj is so hot hehe him choking me while he fucks me in a matting press AHHHH. want to see him smirking down at me through his floppy blonde hair wet with sweat as he puts his other hand over my mouth so my parents don’t wake up :3

ohmygoodness stop it right now. the way i smiled reading thisss pleaseeee!!! adding this to the kinktober list cuz why not!! #19 (ignore any spelling mistakes sorry lol!)

anotha little boynextdoor!jj x girlnextdoor!reader thought ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

when your boyfriend does manage to sneak in through the window by climbing on a tree…he usually spends the night. your parents go to sleep fairly early, like soon after dinner early, so that gives you and jj some alone time in the dark without worrying about one of your parents randomly entering your room to check on you. it's happened before and though jj is getting better at running to find a hiding spot, it's is not ideal.

your parents figure you like to fall asleep to the tv you have in your room watching your little movies, and that it’s the movies making the little sounds. while that is true on some nights, this time around both the tv, you and your boyfriend are making sounds.

“jay!” you squeal when he throws your legs over his shoulders, bending down again to press his flushed hard cock deeper into you. “shhh, gotta be quiet, like a little mouse, quiet okay?” he shushes you, your little movie still on in the background, providing a decent amount of light to illuminate his features and yours.

“uh huh…okay” you nod, still a little dazed due to the past two orgasms he gave you by fingering you a little over 20 minutes ago. once he pushes into your puffy pulsing heat, he wraps a strong hand around your throat and starts to squeeze down, causing you to furrow your eyebrows and grip the hand on your neck. jj is practically trapping you there, underneath him getting incessantly plowed by his big dick.

“wanna hold my hand?” he offers you the hand that’s not on your neck, you mewl at his sweetness, he’s still trying to make you feel as loved and safe as possible even if he is fucking you like he hates you.

“mhmm!”

“here babydoll” he takes your hand in his, the sounds of skin slapping skin faintly bouncing off the walls, not wanting to risk waking the whole neighborhood up with the way he really wants to be pounding into you right now.

your lips are swollen from his kisses, drool threatening to escape the corners of your lips, tear stains on your cheeks glisten due to the lighting, your hair all messy, and still jj thinks you look like the prettiest little thing.

“y’look cute, c’mere” your boyfriend grunts, pulling you up by your neck for another kiss, “harder jayjay, please harder!” you whisper, needy as ever.

“i know babe,” jj chokes you harder and uses his other hand to rub your clit in fast circles, “g’nna cum again!” you squeal out.

“gonna wake up your parents, hold on,” he takes his hand off your neck and covers your mouth to keep you from making any more loud noises, as much as he loves to hear them….

“alright kittie cat no more screamin’ or im gonna have to press your face into the pillow,” he whispers in your ear.

“mph- nmm” your words muffled by his big hand,

“yeaaaah good girl, almost done baby, just keep takin’ it…” he bends your legs back further into a mating press and starts thrusting in again. the position causing his dick to go in deeper and hit the spots that make you melt. that combined with the way both your bodies all sticky with sweat and how he smells all salty and musky, makes you roll your eyes back and then squeeze them shut.

“h-ha…shit, y’so warm and wet holy fuck i love you so much.” jj grits through his teeth, bringing that hand back down to play with your pulsing clit. you whine into his hand as you cum hardddd on his dick, squeezing him so hard he can barely pull out to thrust in again.

“shhh sh sh, there you go…reaaal yummy huh?” he coos, bringing that hand back up to choke you again, “baby girl likes getting choked huh? dont’cha?”

you try and make a sound but you just can’t with how hard he’s squeezing your neck. “yeeeeaaah she likes it, little pussy gushes on me when i squeeze your throat like…thisss…” he gives a few final hard sloppy thrusts, letting go of your neck to give you a breathing break, sweat dripping down his chest, before he shoots hot strings of cum into your cervix.

he doesn’t pull out to keep all that cum stuffed in you and bends down to give you wet sloppy ‘good job’ kisses, whispering an ‘i love you’ after every kiss.

“think we were pretty quiet this time?” your boyfriend whispers looking into your eyes, and all you can do is give him doe eyes, pout and let out a little “mph!” ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

[onlygarden]

[can i watch?] - park sunghoon

genre: smut, some fluff

description: when your boyfriend walks into the bathroom just before you're about to shave your intimate parts, he decides he needs to watch you.

sunghoon x female reader, unprotected sex, shower sex, dom sunghoon, sunghoon is down bad for reader and can barely control himself lmao (he's so cutie), sunghoon is a little rough 18+

a/n: i got this idea suddenly while i was shaving in the shower hehe i neeeeeded to bring it to life i hope u guys get me

you step into the humidity of the shower, the steam enveloping you and filling your pores. your body immediately warms. you allow yourself to fully relax as the hot water glides soothingly along your body. after washing up, your mind is plagued with the reminder of needing to shave, already feeling annoyed by the tedious task. didn’t i just shave not too long ago? why does body hair have to grow so fast? you think pointlessly to yourself. 

the sound of the bathroom door opening reaches your ears, and you peek around the shower curtain to see sunghoon brushing his teeth. he notices you, and immediately bites back a smile. 

“you’re gonna get water all over the rug, idiot,” he teases, the sound of his voice being muffled by his toothbrush making you giggle. 

you playfully scowl. “the curtain’s hardly open, idiot,” you respond, “and you’re gonna get toothpaste all over the floor if you keep trying to talk with a toothbrush in your mouth,” you jest. sunghoon laughs immediately, your playful smirk stretching into a wide smile following his infectious laughter. 

you close the curtain, and you can hear the subtle sounds of your boyfriend rinsing his mouth. a sudden, dramatic sigh travels through the bathroom. 

“why does it take you an eternity to shower?” he pokes jokingly. “are you not done already?” the shower curtain is promptly yanked open to allow your boyfriend enough space to point to his wrist playfully, signaling for you to hurry up. 

you can’t conceal your surprise at his sudden action, but you break into a fit of laughter at his silliness, pushing his body away and shutting the curtain. “you’re scum,” you tell him, as you continue to laugh. “don’t you have any manners?” when he begins speaking you can tell by the volume of his voice that he’s still close to the curtain. “after fucking you senseless so many times i figured you were cool with me seeing you naked,” he digs, anticipating your reaction with a smile on his face.

you peek your head outside of the shower once again, greeting sunghoon with repeated smacks to his chest before returning to the flow of warm water. sunghoon stumbles back a bit, letting out an ‘ah’ through his laughter as your hand thumped against him. 

 “what else do you even need to do? haven’t you finished washing up by now?” sunghoon asks from the other side of the curtain. how cute is he, getting impatient as your time in the shower interrupts your time with him. 

“i’ll be done soon, i just need to finish shaving,” you tell him, completely oblivious to the idea that appeared unexpectedly in your boyfriend’s mind. 

“can i watch?” he asks, an ill-fitting casual tone lacing his brazen words. 

what?

you’re wildly flustered by his sudden request. 

“why would you want to? i promise it’s not anything special,” you tell him, confused as to why he’d want to watch you do such a simple thing in the first place. he was probably expecting your intimate parts to be put on an alluring display, but it’s not like you ever looked irresistibly attractive while you shaved. 

“please just let me watch, i’ve always been curious about it,” he pleads, his hopes of convincing you to comply with his request resting in the sky. “anything you do is special. and sexy.” 

gosh. you sigh. how were you supposed to resist your precious boyfriend when he asked you like that? his curiosity towards the way you complete such a mundane function seemed genuine, anyway. 

you comply, although you make him understand the conditions of his request. 

“fine. but it won’t be sexy, just so you know. i’m just gonna shave in the same unflattering position that i always do.” 

sunghoon flings the shower curtain aside with excitement, looking directly into your eyes with a faint smirk dusting his features. god, he’s so attractive, you thought. you could just melt into a puddle under his gaze. 

“do i have to remind you that you’re always sexy, even when you aren’t trying to look sexy?” 

a wide smile crawls across your face, your lips utterly betraying you, and you bite your lip to prevent it from growing any further. “shut up,” you say, turning around to grab your razor, then sitting down with your back resting against the wall of the shower. 

sunghoon leans his shoulder against the wall near the shower, crossing his arms over his chest. his intense stare almost made you uncomfortable, but you remember his undeniable desire to watch you do this, and his enthusiasm assists you in relaxing. he was your boyfriend, after all. you were always candid around him. he’s seen you do everything, whether you felt attractive or not. 

you separate your legs, completely exposing the most intimate part of yourself in such a natural setting. sunghoon inhales sharply. 

you look up at him, noticing the sudden heaviness of his expression, his features tugged down by such a tempting display. his eyelids were notably lax. is he already starting to get turned on? 

upon noticing your gaze, his stare travels from your unshaven pussy to your eyes. 

“you ready for the show?” you joke, relieving a bit of the tension. i’ll end up hurting myself if i get turned on, too. sunghoon smiles a bit. “i’m stoked,” he replies with the same friskiness. 

you slightly adjust the way you were sitting to give yourself a proper view of each spot that needed your razor’s attention. you begin gliding the razor across the sensitive skin attentively, using your fingers to spread yourself as you needed. sunghoon’s eyes were stubbornly locked onto the scene in front of him. 

the way your fingers moved across your pussy, although you weren’t trying to pleasure yourself it still drove him insane. blood began rushing to his cock and the speed of his breathing steadily increased. he throbbed in his sweatpants. you enthralled him. he almost couldn’t take it. why would he ask to be tortured like this? idly watching you, pussy exposed, as you casually glided the razor and your fingers across your delicate skin. 

god he was so turned on. he struggled to contain his predatory cravings while you carefully shaved yourself, since he didn’t want you to end up getting hurt. still, he needed you painfully. 

“babe, finish up,” sunghoon suddenly says, voice deep and breathless. your pussy throbbed a bit at the desperation in his voice, and with the way you were fully exposed before him, you know he must’ve noticed it. 

“i’m almost done, baby. just one more thing,” you say tenderly. 

his awestricken gaze remains attached to you as you suddenly stand up. he impatiently slips off his shirt, wanting to be ready to latch onto you when you’re finally finished. 

you turn your body around, sunghoon’s eyes immediately traveling the expanse of your bare shoulders, moving to the curves of your waist, and utterly basking in the plumpness of your lovely behind. your skin burned as you could feel his intense stare. 

although you were never uneasy around sunghoon, what you were about to do next made you a bit too bashful to face him. 

you spread your ass apart to shave the space in between, wanting to make sure all your intimate parts were perfectly smooth. sunghoon’s mouth falls open slightly in astonishment, and he exhales heavily, eyes fluttering in a faint manner. did you enjoy torturing him? 

hearing his reaction, you’re quite surprised that he actually found your actions sexy, but you weren’t complaining in the slightest. 

sunghoon was so aroused he felt like he could explode. the fight against his inner desire to touch you is increasing rapidly in difficulty. he quickly removes his sweatpants and boxers, his painfully solid cock springing free, already dripping in anticipation of being sheathed inside your heavenly pussy. 

you rinse your razor off underneath the stream of the shower, and you quickly rinse your body to rid yourself of any tiny loose hairs. 

“all done,” you say, turning to look at sunghoon, the unobstructed sight of his naked body sending heat across your skin. 

he quickly joins you in the shower, shutting the curtain behind him and grabbing your hips with fervor. he pulls you towards him until his cock is poking at your stomach, and he walks forward until you thud against the shower wall. your hands reach his chest, gliding across the skin until they rest upon his shoulders. 

“you looked so fucking sexy doing that,” his hands begin to tighten around your hips as if he was starving, and you were the meal he was aching to devour. “it was so hard to stop myself from pushing you against the wall and fucking you until can barely speak,” he connects his lips with yours before you can even react to his crude words, and you can immediately feel the fierce, greedy arousal that had been welling up inside him. 

he shoves his tongue into your mouth, too hungry to play the slow and gentle game with you. he felt like he could burst at the seams. 

his hand moves from your hips to your pussy, his middle finger sliding eagerly between your folds, exploring and inspecting you to check if you were ready to take him. he just couldn’t take it. he’d never felt so impatient about anything in his life. 

he breathes out as you moan quietly into his mouth, your voice breaking and your volume suddenly increasing as he shoves his middle finger inside of you with haste. you grip the space between his neck and shoulder in desperation. 

he pulls his face away from yours to watch your features contort as he pumps his middle finger slowly inside of you. 

“you really this wet just from me looking at you?” his palm makes repeated contact with your clit, and his finger persistently skates along the spongy patch inside of you.  

“should i stretch you out some more? hm?” he asks, not truly expecting an answer. his ring finger glides directly beside his other digit, and his pumping grows rapid once both fingers are fully enveloped by your warmth. 

grabbing the back of your thigh, he pushes your leg up to gain a more generous angle. he admired as your pussy laid on display, just for him. just how he wanted it to be. 

your eyes nearly flutter shut, your face twitching in bliss as his fingers move in and out of you at a swift pace. his palm made contact with your clit each time his fingers rammed inside of you, and the way he stared menacingly into your eyes as he forced you open on his fingers entirely overwhelmed you. your eyes already burned with tears from the pleasure sunghoon piled onto you. 

he smirked down at you. how cute, he thought. 

“aw baby, are you already crying for me?” his fingers don’t falter as he speaks to you condescendingly. 

“is my cock gonna be too much for you?” you shake your head urgently, sunghoon’s skilled fingers sending your mind to an unimaginable state, beyond delirious. sunghoon lets out a satisfied chuckle before he speaks again. 

“i know it’s not. you’re just gonna take it however i give it to you.” as his words fall out of his mouth menacingly, he pulls his fingers out of you, leaving you dizzy and empty before lowering your leg. sunghoon already waited enough. he needed to be inside you. 

“turn around,” he says bluntly. you quickly oblige, never daring to question a request during sex with sunghoon. 

your hands rest against the slippery shower wall, and you feel sunghoon’s hands upon your hips again, pulling them back until he’s pleased with your position. twinged with desire for you, sunghoon’s hands find your ass and he spreads it apart, smacking it. how relieving was it that he could finally touch you the way he desperately wanted to as he watched you moments before. 

sunghoon kisses your back, causing you to twitch. his lips move to the side of your neck before grazing your ear, his nose sniffing your hair. he was intoxicated by everything about you. 

“need to know you’re ready for me,” he whispers, waiting for your approval before letting his impulses take control of him. 

“i’m ready, sunghoon.” you announce gently.

his length, unimaginably stiff with need, rams into you abruptly to the hilt. sunghoon takes a moment to revel in the fact that he’s finally surrounded by your pussy. your warm silky pussy was hugging him so snugly, and he’s never felt more compelled by anything in his entire lifetime. 

he starts ramming into you, punishing your insides with the ferocity and speed of his hips. his grip on your hips tightens to a painful measure, his nails digging into your skin, showing you just how hungrily he longed to bury himself into you, just how deprived he was of the pleasure you provided him with.

“hoon, slow down! too fast!” you moan out, barely finding the ability to speak due to the way he relentlessly tore through you. 

he continued the way he torturously snapped into you, not changing the way his hips moved in the slightest.

“you know i can’t, baby,” he breathes out, “just be a good girl and take it for me, like you always do.” as he continues his harsh dealing of your body, your moans begin to sound more like sobs. 

god, he was obsessed with it. 

“it’s ok baby, fuck, i know you can do it.” sunghoon was in bliss. there was no way he could stop now, especially when he knew you could handle it. sunghoon knows you well enough to recognize when you’re at your limit, and you still had more to give him.

“ah, fuck, you feel so fucking good baby.” sunghoon groans, using one hand to brace himself against the shower wall. you were absolutely falling apart underneath him. 

“so soft, so pretty for me,” he tells you, his brows furrowing as he surrenders himself entirely to your pleasure. he moves to attach his lips to your neck, and your mouth gapes open, your cries now struggling to leave your throat. 

“close, sunghoon,” you manage to tell him, and the way your name falls off his lips along with the uncontrollable moans you let out leaves him dazed. 

“oh god baby, me too,” he says, his voice strained. he returns his lips to your neck, breathy groans leaving him as he grows closer to spilling inside of you. 

his hand that rested on your hip glides along your stomach and down to your clit, rubbing rapid circles causing you to shove your hips back towards him. his lips detach from your neck as he moans deeply. you grab his forearm, pleading with him to take it easier on you, but he continues regardless. 

you cuss and stutter out sunghoon’s name as you cum, your body curling forward slightly, utterly overwhelmed by the blinding waves of pleasure coursing through you. you barely register sunghoon’s chants of “that’s it, baby,” as your eyes flutter and roll back, your body trying to handle the orgasm that sunghoon just gave you. 

the way your body shook and your pussy spasmed around his cock made sunghoon squeeze your hip brutally as he groaned, closing his eyes. he spilled inside you, his mouth falling open as deep, breathy moans fell from his lips in slow succession, the pace of his hips slowing to a complete stop. he furrowed his brows, astonished by the high that only you could give rise to.

he wrapped his arms tightly around your waist, burrowing his face into your neck as the both of you recovered. the feeling of his breath against your neck sent chills fiercely coursing through you. 

“god, you’re amazing,” he mumbles into your neck, placing his parted lips on the moist skin softly, his breath still hitting your neck with the wispiness of a feather. you smile, turning to glance back at him as his head lifts from the refuge of your skin. 

he pulls his length out of you slowly, now drenched in your essence having just been plunged inside of you. his length gradually leaves you empty as your pussy returns to it’s normal size, reminding you just how much he stretched you out. 

he turns your body around, moving his hands fondly along the curve of your waist, fingers satisfied by the smoothness of the trail they traveled. he pauses when he notices the prominent nail marks and bruises around your hips. you can recall the way he heedlessly attacked your hips while drilling into you, but you weren’t burdened by it at all. 

he frowns and shifts his eyes to meet yours. “i’m really sorry, baby, i didn’t realize,” he says regretfully. “are you hurt?” he asks with concern, hoping for a certain answer. the endless domain of his shiny brown eyes makes you melt, your adoration for him swelling within you. 

you smile a bit, shaking your head to convey your lighthearted perception of his actions. “hoon, i’m fine. it didn’t bother me one bit,” you assure him, pinching his cheek. 

his expression flips with a bright cheekiness at your admission. “yea, i could tell,” he pokes, beginning to dramatically mimic the sounds of your pleasured cries from moments ago. 

you gasp, lifting your fist to bash the side of it into his chest repeatedly. sunghoon laughs, his embarrassing mockery of you stopping as you began your onslaught. you push his giggling body off of you and pout in jest. you move past him to step towards the warm water, rinsing your sweaty body. 

you feel his hands drifting across your body again as he sweetly says, “here, let me wash you up.”

[aklaustaleteller]

heyy how are you! i have this idea that wont leave my head, the reader is scared of love and runs away from it and keeps pushing anyone that tries anything away, but klaus does everything to prove to her that his intentions are pure, and after he does with a little while, she find out about him being a hybrid (maybe she gets really scared) and he has to grovel his way into her life

Mendable Inside Your Ribs

Y/n, all her life, had reached for love and then felt her white-knuckled dying grip on it slip. Then suddenly, Klaus comes in her life looking like the light at the end of the tunnel – and maybe, just maybe, their monsters have more in common than they originally thought.

Warnings - Mentions of animalistic urges, monstrosity, blood, wounds and bruises but it's all in a metamorphic manner (well, except for the blood) Word Count - 3.2k

Finally, Anon, I'm posting your request! I'm so sorry I took so long, but I truly hope that you find the wait worth it once you're done reading this! I could've written this in an entirely different and simpler manner, but I was already half-way through it already written it in a poetic/metamorphic way, so I hope you guys still enjoy it for I am quite proud <3 Please do tell me if you do!

Y/n, all her life, had reached for love and then felt her white-knuckled dying grip on it slip. So many times had it happened that now she was found sat with her hair tangled, dried blood and dirt on her face and inside her nails with crooked teeth, clawing at her own skin sitting in a corner, rocking herself back and forth to comfort herself as she saw love creeping towards her with a smile so sinister that it could make shivers run down the devil’s spine. 

From her parents shaming her for wanting something so simple as love, to her romantic partners who’d always stumble a couple steps back upon realising just how hungry she was for love – how animalistic she could get just for an ounce of it. 

All of it turned her into a person as cold as a tombstone standing over a dead person’s grave, unfeeling and unmoving.

But when she would feel, it felt like her own heart was pushing her head under the water, holding her in there until she had only one more breath left in her. It made her want to snarl and to hiss, to bite and to claw at the person who made her heart leap out of her chest. 

Which would then make her turn and run the other way as fast as her feet could carry her, back to the corner where she belonged. Sometimes she would raise her head and look at the walls inside of her, reading the numbers she had madly tally-marked on them to keep track of just how many days she had kept herself chained there. And somewhere along the passing time, she’d begun defeatedly losing count.

Yet as she sat in that very corner and raised her head this time, she saw something bright. Almost like a light at the end of the tunnel. So she’d gotten forward on her hands and moved on her knees, curiosity pulling her forward until she reached the border which she’d have to cross to get to the other side. 

And that’s when she saw him standing there – Klaus Mikaelson. Smiling down upon her like she was the cutest lamb he’d ever come across, instead of falling backwards because he actually saw the love-hungry animal that she was. 

So, she had taken it upon herself to back off, and ran away from him. But horror crept over her and held her tight when she saw that he had followed her back inside, back to her corner where she resided. 

“Love,” she heard him whisper as he brought his open hands in front of him, wanting her to place her own calloused ones in them and come with him. 

But she never did, always turning away with a growl so that he’d leave. But every time she’d look his way to check if he’d finally left, she’d find him still standing there, with that same smile and those same open arms. 

“Go away, Klaus,” she said coldly, looking away so her dead eyes wouldn’t have to witness hurt flash through his starry eyes. 

He wanted nothing more than for her to see herself the way he saw her. Wanted for her to know that he was the one who’s undeserving of her love, actually. He was the animal here, not her.

But she profusely denied all of his pleas and begs, holding herself strictly uptight so that she wouldn’t fall into pieces upon him and crush him under the weight of all her grief, anger and tragedy. 

He just couldn't seem to get through to her, no matter how hard he tried. So he just decided to remain persistent, and show her how truly pure his intentions are via small acts. Like buying her gifts that he knew would matter to her, such as those small plants that never grow, or random postcards that he knew she put up on her walls, or books that he’d annotated for her to get her to take a glimpse into the way he saw her.

But sometimes, those acts got rather intimate. Like that time he brushed her hair for her for a week long when she had broken her wrist, or that night when he took her feet in his lap to massage them gently after she’d given her best performance on stage. Hell he’d even gone as far as to cook for her on especially hard nights so that he could feed her his love. 

And maybe he was just growing delusional now, but he was beginning to feel like she was taking down her walls around him brick by brick. She no longer glared at him with those ice cold eyes when he would enter into a close proximity to her, nor did she sneer at him to go away. 

Instead, he saw her eyes grow a little wider when he’d enter the same room as her, the dead stare tucking itself away for other people as some life took a dive in her eyes. And he heard a lullaby in her voice when she’d greet him back, her body turned towards him and eyes on him to give him all of her attention.

That’s how he knew that he had brought her away from that corner and back to the very border, again. And he also knew that he now had to tread carefully so that she wouldn’t go back, tumbling away from him. 

And Klaus didn’t know if the Salvatore brothers telling her all about the supernatural world, about who The Klaus Mikaelson was, was his fault or not. 

But what he did blame himself for, was for lowering his guard when he’d brought her just one step away from crossing the border and loosened his grip on her because the moment she was told about his past, not only did she go fumbling back but she also left crescent moons dug in his shoulders from when she’d been shaking him, sobbing loudly and crying out for him to tell her that all of it wasn’t true.

But Klaus couldn’t lie to her, so he’d stood frozen with tears spilling from his eyes as she ran back to her corner, tally-marking another day after so long that her eyes had taken a moment to adjust to the darkness that surrounded her again, this time, more like an evilly laughing capturer instead of holding her in it’s arms like a pitiful mother. 

Y/n awoke this morning with her eyes puffed up, it happened every time she went to sleep exhausted out of her mind. And as the flashes of last night began reeling through her mind again, her eyes grew moist and her vision grew blurry while she climbed down the stairs to go into the kitchen. 

Grabbing a glass of water she chugged it down, leaning over the sink and mumbling to herself that everything was fine, that she was fine. Her eyes remained shut but tears slipped out regardless, sniffling sounds echoing through her house as she tried not to retain any of the information that had been dumped on her. 

“He’s a …hybrid,” Stefan had said, looking at her through his lashes like he was talking to a child about how tooth fairies aren’t real.  

“And what’s that?” She asked, a feeling in her gut telling her that it was, in no way, a sweet creature. 

“He’s half vampire, and half werewolf,” Damon finished saying behind her. 

Breath was knocked out of her lungs at that. She’d always had her suspicions about some certain people surrounding her, like Stefan and Damon themselves, but never once had she felt anything remotely scary when Klaus would stand in front of her. 

Perhaps it was because of his big starry eyes, and those unruly blonde curls that he kept trimmed for some reason. Or those dimples that would shy away from her gaze and that mouth which would always stretch into a smile upon her sight. Or, those hands that held her so gingerly, and those feet that held the weight of her body as he carried her home. 

And maybe it was the fact that he’d never once told her about this himself, that hurt the worse. He had lied to her, or kept the truth from her, dare she say to defend his honour. But it felt like a punch square in the chest when she learned about the blood that stained his hands, his clothes, his face and his mouth. 

Despite that horrifying revelation, she had run straight to his home and shouted at him to come outside. And the moment he had, she was pushing and shoving at him, putting her hands on his shoulders and shaking him, crying – “tell me they are lying! Tell me that you aren’t what they say you are, that you have no blood on your hands!” 

“Tell me!” She had broken down, resting her head on his chest as she let out the sobs. 

“Tell me this wasn’t your intention!” She shook him again and Klaus had opened his mouth to agree with her, but she had fallen to her knees then, looking up at him with tears staining her cheeks and blood swirling in her eyes. 

“Please don’t take me home,” she had told him despite the hot tears streaming down her face and fog settling in her mind. “I can never go home now,” she whispered, scared. 

Home was something that was supposed to be a constant in one's life, that one returned to every single day. And there hadn’t been anything like that for her until Klaus. And now that the shelter of his frame had been uprooted and thrown away, cold rain scraped at her skin all over again as she scrambled around to find her corner to go back to. 

She didn’t want that corner to be her home but time and time again, it was proven to her that it was – whether she liked that or not. 

Taking deep breaths to gather herself, Y/n went back up to her room to get ready for the day – knowing that all she was going to do was read and write and water her dying plants and maybe bake some biscuits that she was never going to get Klaus to taste now. 

And just as she came back to make her first cup of tea, she heard a hissing sound and turned to see a paper that had been folded into half. It had been slipped in through the crack underneath the door. 

She picked it up and opened it, immediately recognising Klaus’ handwriting. 

Y/n,

I know I’ve wounded you deeply by keeping who I truly am from you. But spending so much time with you, I’d somehow mistaken myself to be just the Klaus Mikaelson that you saw. I'm the one who’s wrong at that part, forgive me for it. I never meant to lie to you, perhaps, I was waiting for the right time. But it’s never the right time, is it? I’ve learned that now. 

And while I’m sure the brothers told you enough, I’d still like to introduce myself to you all over again. This time, by laying all my defences down. I should’ve said it then and there, but something came over me and I couldn’t form words. But I hope you’d believe me when I tell you that hurting you was not my intention – it’s something far far away from what I truly do intend. 

My family is hosting a traditional ball tonight. Please save this sick lover of yours a dance. And, you need not fret for I have brought you a dress, come outside? 

Yours truly,

Klaus

A deep weight rested itself on top of Y/n’s chest as she slowly walked towards her door, and opened it. She’d been expecting to see Klaus, but instead there was a box on her porch with a silk bow resting on top of it. She sat down and brought it to her lap, opening it to reveal a blue dress, folded neatly inside the box. 

She knew she was going – there was no doubt about that. But what did gnaw at her, was the chance of what would happen when she’d get there. She wanted to accept the feeling that told her he wouldn't hurt her. And yet, a tremor coursed through her body as she sat and sipped on her tea, waiting for the evening to roll around. 

She wanted for him to unleash himself and show her who he truly is, so that she can love him for him. She didn’t want to fall in love with just his bruised upper skin – no. She wanted to get to know him, inside and out. Wanted to know what his guts found intimidating and what his soul found peaceful. 

But if he wasn’t going to show her that, then nothing could ever make her clean herself up and rid herself of all the wounds that had been inflicted upon her, so that she doesn’t bleed on him from the cut that he didn’t inflict. She had a feelling that maybe, just maybe – there monsters had more in common than they thought they had. 

There must be a reason behind the blood tainting his skin, perhaps, it was thrust upon him for all she knew! Maybe he didn’t want to be the monster that he had been turned into. 

And if that’s true, Y/n wondered if she would still want to unravel him if it turned out that he was just a monster that had no other driving force apart from some personal fun. 

So she dressed herself up for the night. Prepared to listen to him and ask him questions if he wouldn’t have answered them already in his explanation. 

Entering the mansion that she always ran far away from, Y/n took a huge breath before wandering her eyes around to search for the one and only. And It didn’t take long before their eyes locked, with him already looking at her with rather guilty eyes and a relieved smile for she had shown up. 

Walking to her, Klaus took in a shaky breath as he fixed his suite. He was nervous, hell, scared even. Honestly, terrified that tonight might be the final time he would see her and the final memory he’d have of her would be of her sprinting away from him for she couldn’t bear the sight of the ugly monster he had ended up growing into. 

“You came,” Klaus smiled, looking at her with those same starry eyes except tonight they were shining because of the sheen layer of tears glossing them up. 

“You asked me to,” she shrugged faintly, her mouth cold to sight but her eyes were big and almost smiling up at him. 

With her hand still in his’ from when he had bent down to kiss the back of it, Klaus walked her over to the vacant balcony – nothing to witness the tragedy but the sky that had itself gotten dressed in its best constellations and ornament, the moon.

Klaus wanted to believe his heart when it told him that she would listen to him and try to love him, but his head’s juxtaposition was not gentle. It prepared him for the worst, reminding him of how no one had ever loved him before, and no one would now. For all that was true, he had only gotten worse over time. 

“To hurt you, was never my intention,” he whispered, his big eyes looking into hers. 

“It is true that I am a Hybrid – a vampire and a werewolf. It is also true that I’m covered in blood from head to toe, from my bones to my skin, I am drenched in it.”

His legs were growing jittery and breathing was becoming harder to do than it should be. But his hold on her hand only tightened, tears collecting on his bottom lash line. 

“It is true that I am a monster. One with a heart that doesn’t beat and a soul that feasts upon the love it never gets,” with his free hand, Klaus wiped the tear as it slipped down the slope of his cheek. 

She only stood still in front of him, urging him with her eyes to go on. Her own breathing ragged as she began seeing him and listening to him

“But I need you to know, before you leave tonight,” his voice shook as he stole his eyes from hers for a second to gain back his courage, as all of it had been spent the moment he mentioned her inevitable departure. “That I would never hurt you, I never can, hurt you,” he assured her, searching her eyes for anything. 

“I truly am in love with you. And I will take forever to show you that if that’s what you’ll ask of me,” bringing her hand to his chest, he rested it there. “I want you to lay yourself bare in front of me so that I can show you that even your ugliest is loved by me,” he whispered.

“Say something, please,” he almost cried, his voice cracked, not having anticipated her departure to come so soon. 

“I –,” Y/n began, her voice hoarse due to not having used it for so long. “I think I can love you, Klaus,” she uttered, looking away from his eyes, fearing that he was going to deny her heart upon realising just how ugly and bruised and beaten it is.

Upon the realisation that sure, her insides are a million colours – but they are all shades of blue. 

And when the deafening silence got too much for her to bear, she turned away from him to make a run back home. 

But her hand felt to have gotten caught in something and she was pulled right back, into a hard and vulnerable chest as her mouth felt something soft press itself hardly against it. 

Klaus’ mouth. 

His mouth was on hers and one of his hands was curled against the back of her neck while the other cradled her face with force. 

Everything inside of her erupted into flames as she tilted her face to better mould it against his’, and fisted the curls on the nape of his neck, pushing him further into her while bending her back to accept the force. 

“Say it again,” he breathed, breaking the kiss and resting his forehead on hers, his tears slipping from his eyes and falling onto her cheeks. 

“I think,” she exhaled sharply, trying to catch her breath while her eyes remained stuck on his mouth. “I think I can love you,” she confessed again, instantly moving her lips in sync with his’ as he kissed her desperately, finally. 

“My heart – it is shabby and broken but it’s already yours,” she choked out. “And it’s only mendable inside your ribs,” her shoulders shook as she cried, now fisting the shirt of his collar to keep him close to her. 

“My love, your heart – it, it is safe with me,” he breathed with her, trying to calm his racing heart down. “And my heart will forever beat on your command,” sniffling, he tucked her hair behind her ear, gently lifting her face to seal his confession by breathing in her breath and letting her take away his’ as he pressed his mouth against hers, once again. 

[finsplurtz]

virginbitch — gojo.satoru

— dom ! male.reader x sub ! Gojo Satoru

— contents : Virgin bitch Gojo , mentions of boy pussy , virginity loss , jerking off , drunk Gojo for a min , mirror sex , gagging choking , overstim , degrading nd praising

warnings : like choking but nun too srs idk

✩°｡ ⋆⸜ 🎧✮

Gojo satoru is a MAJOR virgin. I KNOW .. CRAZY.

His fossil ass hadn’t lost his virginity yet, he’s been waiting for “the right person” but nobody seems to catch his eye…

Till yn was introduced.

It was kinda funny when they met uhm Gojo was having silly conversation with Yuji about girlfriends n shi and like…

“So you don’t have a girlfriend? Are you a virgin?”

“Nonono! I’m not a virgin Yuji cmon I’m literally a lady magnet. I used to fuck girls left and right in highschool! I just don’t have a girlfriend right now because nobody really seems to grab my att…-“ He fell quiet when the finest guy to ever fucking exist walked in.

Yujis confused and looks at yn and he’s like “OH YN, you’re here!” He’s so happy to see them. Yn smiled and pulls Yuji into a hug spinning him around.

“Lord, it’s been so long! You still look adorable” He ruffled Yuji’s hair who giggled.

“Oh- by the way, this is my teacher, yn meet Gojo, Gojo meet yn. Old friend” Yuji stepped aside and yn held his hand out and shook Gojo’s.

“Nice to meet you, Gojo” the way his name rolled off his tongue made him bite the inside of his cheek.

“Nice to meet you too..yn..” Gojo smiled sickly.

Yuji grabbed yn’s wrists and pulled him around excited to show him everything he’d learnt. Gojo was bewildered. I mean yn was fucking- jaw dropping handsome!

Gojo was too busy to worry about a girlfriend. He never really thought he’d be jerking off to some fucking guy he met that same day…

Gojo was a very flirty guy, he’s always flirting with women who’d obviously get down on their knees for him if he asked and yet still he finds nothing interesting about them.

He can lie about not being a virgin and have people believe him, but as soon as this hunk, yn, asks him about it, he’s a stuttering mess.

“Hm. So you’re realll experienced mister Satoru~?” Yn tilted his head looking at Gojo’s blindfold who obviously flushed red.

“Y..yes..yes I am!” He cursed himself out in his head for sounding too excited.

“Yeah? what about with a guy..” yn smirked watching Gojo’s lip tremble slightly.

“Uh-h..huh…” Gojo’s mouth was slightly open as he nodded making the other chuckle.

“Okay, I’ll keep that in mind, Satoru.” Yn gently closed Gojo’s mouth before walking off.

Gojo was a sensitive guy when it came to his dick, he’s never been inside anything at all. He was now rutting into his pillow pretending it was yn.

“Ugh..I’m y-your good b..haa…boy..y-yn….” His body shook like crazy when he came on his pillow like never before. He was panting like a dog feeling lazy about cleaning up.

He sat up and looked at the mess he made before sighing and throwing the whole pillow away.

Now he can’t even look at yn’s face at all. Cause he gets reminded of what he did that night, it’s not like he’s guilty or anything he genuinely just might go red..

Well he got closer to yn, always being around each other, doing the same things everyday. It was a routine they both loved.

Gojo grew to genuinely feel attracted to yn, he loved his personality and looks. He’s not scared of homophobia or anything I mean he’s the strongest guy alive, what’s there to be afraid of?

They went out drinking one night and since Gojo is obviously, a light weight, he got drunk pretty fucking fast. He tried to keep up with yn but ended up getting himself fucked up instead.

Yn was dragging Gojo back to his house and lied him on his bed getting him some water.

“Satoru, drink” He sat the white haired male up and handed him the drink.

“N…no it’s too hic h..hot..” He pushed the drink away and tried to take his shirt off but yn stopped him.

“‘Toru- if you’re hot maybe you should take this fucking..blindfold off” yn slid the cloth off Satoru’s head and his eyes widened at this guys eyes…

“Your eyes…” He whispered pushing some hair out of Gojo’s face who blushed looking into yn’s hues.

“They’re gorgeous..” He smiled making Gojo’s insides spin.

“Take my..c-clothes o hic off…” He whined successfully pulling his shirt off leaving him only in his pants. Yn scoffed and grabbed Gojo’s jaw forcing him to look at him.

“Drink…the water.” Yn held the bottle of water up to Gojo’s lips who pulled away and tapped yn’s lips.

“No, you drink..”

‘Tsk’ yn filled his mouth with water and kissed Gojo with tongue allowing the water to go into the others mouth.

Gojo wrapped his arms around yn’s neck and didn’t let go of the kiss. Exploring the guys mouth.

Gojo moaned into the kiss and bit yn’s lip who quickly pulled away.

“Satoru you’re- drunk. No more kissing..just drink the water.”

Gojo again protests but yn forces him to open his mouth and shoves water down his throat getting it everywhere on his body and face.

“Ugh..I’m all wet y-yn…’nd it’s y-your f..fault hic” yn looked away blushing. He flinched when Gojo lied him flat on the bed and straddled him.

There was a big mirror facing the bed and Gojo could see himself. He shuffled before sighing and just knocking out on top of yn.

Next morning he freaks out, stuck in yn’s embrace.

“you good?” yn checked.

“Feel….like shit.” Gojo grumbled trying to hide how red his face was.

“Since you’re sober…wanna fuck?”

Gojo’s beautiful eyes widened.

—

“AGH- UGH MMM!~” Gojo screamed arching his back while watching himself in the mirror get fucked like a slut.

Yn’s hips pounded into Gojo’s ass, the sound of skin slapping skin filled the room along with the sweet smell of sex.

“Gosh…look at you..taking my cock so well~ your virgin boy pussy isn’t complaining about it at all..~” yn smirked devilishly grabbing Gojo’s hair and forcing him to look at himself in the mirror.

“‘s t-too much!~ co-ck sho’ b..big..” he moaned as yn let go of his hair.

“I should put your fuckin’ mouth to work..” yn shoved his fingers into Gojo’s mouth, having him gag and choke on his fingers.

“Goood boy~ you’re my good little whore aren’t you Satoru..?~” Gojo smiled and his eyes rolled back into his head.

“‘m your g-good..boy..! All yourz..~” He screamed and shook violently as he came so hard all over the sheets.

“Hah- first time and you’re already a fucked out mess!” Yn laughed watching Gojo’s face contort at the overstimulation of his prostate still getting abused.

When they finished, Gojo’s body was completely weak. It hurt and he couldn’t even stand up. Good thing he didn’t really need to, yn doing basically everything for him.

He cleaned the male up nicely, tucked him into bed and cuddled.

Gojo is having trouble walking as of lately.

i have a million fics of this man i need him butt booty naked

[not-neverland06]

Hey! Love your writing and love Flux!! I was hoping to request a kind of angsty/fluffy fic with the worst!wolverine where the meet her in the void and maybe Logan knew her just not very well and he’s finally letting himself open up and be close with her (likewise with reader/flux towards logan) and they get into an argument or maybe logan has a nightmare and he ends up stabbing her with his claws and maybe the aftermath of him beating himself up and sabotaging the new relationship until reader finally snaps him out of it and says it was an accident and she still loves him?? Thanks!!

mistake

Logan Howlett x fem!reader

a/n: I want to thank you for this request because I've been having the worst writer's block in the world. I was worried about having to go into another unofficial hiatus, but this made something in my brain click together and I knocked it out in two hours. my life is yours 🙏🙏 Summary: You know him. Or, you knew him. And you never blamed him for what happened in your world. It wasn't his fault that everyone you loved died and you barely escaped with your life. But you never actually thought you'd have to see him again. You don't know what to do when all these feelings resurface with his appearance.

No one truly knew who you were back in your universe. After the horrific incident at the mansion, you had run. You’d run as fast and as far as you could from the slaughter of your friends. You’d barely escaped with your life, and from the amount of blood and gore they’d left behind, most people just assumed you were dead. 

It’s not like anyone cared about you. Scott, Ororo, and Jean had been the real heroes. But it didn’t matter because they were still mutants at the end of the day. It didn’t matter how many people they saved. How many lives they positively changed, no one would ever see past the fact that they were mutants. 

Being one of the newer members of the recently disbanded X-Men gave you enough anonymity to get through daily life without being recognized. It did not, however, protect you from being sucked into the shit fest that is the multiverse. 

You’re not sure what it is about you that just attracts bad luck. You don’t know if it’s some hidden power that’s a part of your evolution. You’re just apparently perpetually fucked. The TVA had determined that you were interfering with the proper flow of your timeline or some bullshit. 

Now you’re here. Stuck in the void with nothing but decay and drunk former superheroes. If you have to watch one more Captain America ‘rally the troops’ you’re gonna kill him yourself. You’ve considered switching teams and joining Cassandra Nova at times. If only so you don’t have to deal with Johnny Storm and the rest of the dipshits. 

You get along with Laura, at least. She likes to tell you about her Logan and you like to dodge her questions about yours. She doesn’t need to know that not every version of Wolverine has a golden heart and story worthy of tears. Yours was a fuck up, plain and simple, but you never thought the incident was his fault. 

As much as others tried to push the blame on him. The people who raided the mansion were determined. There was no other way that day was going to end up. You’d just have one less X-Man. But people always love a martyr more than a victim. 

After a couple of years, you get used to the monotony. Your days are only occasionally broken up by dodging Cassandra’s henchmen and trying not to get sucked up into the soul destroyer. Other than that, you spend your nights getting drunk with Gambit and pretending you know whatever the fuck he’s talking about. 

“Laura! I managed to find some chocolate!” You run into the hideout looking for the girl. It’s rare to find good food that isn’t already a month past its expiration date. You weren’t planning on sharing the candy with her but you figured she’d smell it on you and it’s not worth the fight. 

Instead, you stop short as the familiar blue and yellow uniform you’d always try to force on him comes into view. He’s stealing Gambit’s liquor and you know that’s not going to go over well. What you don’t know is why you are so sure that this is your Wolverine. 

You’ve never had a Wolverine in the void. Not once. This could be any one of the hundreds of thousands of variants. But you see that look in his eye. That familiar watery gaze shows just how much he hurts, even if he doesn’t want to admit it. 

“Logan?” You breathe his name out in disbelief. Bypassing the Deadpool standing nearby. You’ve dealt with enough of those in your time down here. He takes a step back, fixing you with a distrusting look. 

He keeps the bottle of alcohol clutched close to his chest like he thinks you’re going to take it. You track the movement and you scoff. “Right,” you shake your head and stop short. “Of course, the only thing you care about is still getting fucking drunk.”

He glares at you, taking a step forward like he thinks it might actually intimidate you. “Do I know you, bub?” He reaches forward, probably to jab his finger in your chest. You drop your gaze to his outstretched hand and narrow your eyes. 

The material of his suit fluctuates, pulling back and rippling over his arms like liquid and not spandex. He doesn’t notice the manipulation of matter until it's his skin you target. It melts off his adamantium bones and he stares down in horror. 

You know he's scared because he’s watching his body dissolve but he’s not feeling any pain. You could make it hurt, but that’s not what you want. You just want to see if he’ll remember you now. If there’s anything half-decent left in that alcohol-rotted brain of his.

“Flux,” he grits your X-Man name out through his teeth like it hurts him to say it. 

You nod and his skin and suit go back to normal, like you’d never tampered with it in the first place. “You do remember me, then?”

“Thought you fucking died with the rest of them.” Your face drops before you feel an astonished smile on your face. 

“You know, it’s a comfort to know nothing about my world has changed. You’re still the same spineless dick that left us all to die.” You shake your head and storm out of the hideout. You don’t know how long they’re planning on staying but you pray they leave soon. If you have to deal with him longer than a week, you’ll just kill him. 

You step outside just as Laura’s coming back from the bonfire. She greets you with a stiff smile and you wonder what’s got in her in a mood. It only takes a glance over her shoulder to find the reason.

Logan is sulking by the fire, nursing yet another bottle of whiskey. He’s drinking it like water and even with his healing, his liver should have turned to mush by now. “I can see why you didn’t tell me about him,” she mutters as she passes by you. 

You know she tried to be quiet but you can see the way Logan’s head tilts slightly towards you. He’s heard her and you know it has to sting just a little.

You glance down at the leaves under your feet, eyes glazing over as you feel the guilt sink into your stomach. You shouldn’t feel bad, you didn’t do anything wrong. You didn’t hurt him, technically, just reminded him who you were. But you still feel bad for what you said. 

You’ve never blamed Logan for what happened. And if you did, you would be a hypocrite. Because you survived too, and you left them all behind. You ran like a coward. You could never blame him when you failed to save them just the same. 

You take in a deep breath and steel yourself. You’ll just apologize, walk over there, and explain to him you didn’t mean what you said. You know he’ll be a dick about it. Claiming he doesn’t want your apology. You’ll just leave him alone after. 

You’re about to step forward when he barks out a gruff command, “Don’t fucking stare at me like that. I don’t want your company.” He turns back to the fire and takes another swig from his bottle. 

You roll your eyes and walk towards him. “You can be as miserable and self-pitying as you want, just let me say one thing.”

His head whips towards you so quickly you’re surprised you don’t hear it snap. “I’m not fucking pitying myself,” he grits out. You quirk your brows in amusement, glancing towards the bottle in his hand and the clear way he’s sulking. He turns his attention back towards the fire, intent on ignoring you again. 

“I don’t blame you for what happened,” you tell him. You ignore the warning look he shoots you, taking a seat beside him even if he doesn’t want you to. “I-” you choke on the words, struggling to admit to yourself what you’ve never wanted to. 

“Don’t.” You know it’s meant to be a warning. But when you look at him and see how completely broken he is, it sounds more like a pathetic plead. 

But you need to say this. As selfish as it is, you need to say this to someone., Need to unload this guilt you’ve carried for so long. “I was there, Logan. I could have saved them and I didn’t. I fucking ran.”

“Kid, don’t do this-”

“Jean was still moving,” you blurt out. You feel the way your heart speeds up at the admission. Your fingers shake and the air around you stills. 

His face drops and he slowly turns towards you. You’re afraid to look at him. You feel like a bunny staring down the snout of a wolf, there’s no escaping this. You’ve created this trap for yourself. 

“What?” He demands. His voice has lost that tremor of vulnerability. Instead, he sounds like he did when he first found out what had happened to you all. That same deadly level of calm that makes you want to bolt again. 

“She,” you stare into the fire until your eyes burn. You don’t know if it’s from the light or the smoke but the pain focuses you. “She was shaking on the floor. There was blood everywhere and she could barely breathe. They had gassed us with something. None of us could use our powers, it’s the only reason they got a one-up on us.”

You can feel yourself slipping back into that moment. You feel the warmth of the blood on your skin. It seeps into your suit and makes the material cling to you. Your gut is split open and the only thing holding your intestines in is your hands. 

Jean is in front of you. Her hands are twitching by her sides. There’s blood pouring out of her lips, dribbling down her tongue and cheeks. Every breath is a rattle so deep you feel it in your bones. 

Each inhale sounds like someone dragging glass through the membrane of her lungs. Her chest rises and sinks shallowly as she gasps for air. She’s practically convulsing, eyes twitching every which way.

The gas has faded from the halls. The people have left, satisfied with the carnage. You’re alone, surrounded only by the blood and bodies of your friends. None of the others are moving. Some of them are so mangled you can’t even tell who they are anymore. 

Jean’s eyes lock onto yours. The only anchor she has. And you can see it, the frantic, wounded animal gaze on her face. She knows she’s dying. She knows there’s nothing she can do about it. 

You can only stand by and watch as your friend dies. You could be her comfort. You could be the last face she sees before she dies, distracting her from the sight of her dead fiancee behind her. 

But what do you do?

You hold your guts in your stomach and you run. You can’t look at her. You can’t look at any of them. You can hear her croaking behind you. And even when you’re out of the mansion, when you’re in a hospital somewhere getting repaired and Logan’s on a rampage, you still hear her. 

You feel something heavy on your arm and it’s like you're being forcibly dragged out of a trance. Logan’s looking at you with something you’ve never seen before. But it’s something you’ve always desperately craved. 

It’s like he’s seeing you, really seeing you. For the first time in a long time, you feel that ache of guilt ease away ever so slightly. It doesn’t disappear, but you’re sharing the burden with someone else and it’s a relief you’ve desperately craved. 

“You’re not a bad person for leaving, kid.” He swallows roughly and you place your hand over his. He doesn’t look completely comfortable with the touch, slightly flinching away from it, but he doesn’t move. “If you hadn’t, you would be dead.”

You squeeze his hand, forcing him to meet your gaze. “I never blamed you for what happened.” emotion is so thick on your tongue and in your throat that the words come out a whisper. “Their deaths weren’t your fault, and what happened after wasn’t.”

He clenches his eyes shut and jerks his hand out of your grip. You sigh, knowing you’ve lost him. “I slaughtered them.”

You scoff, “They slaughtered us!” You nearly shout, anger bubbling hot in your gut. When you heard about him killing those who had hunted down your friends, you’d celebrated. And when you heard the way the public was crucifying him, you realized that no matter what you did they would never love you. 

You would always be nothing more than a mutant to them. 

“And the people who didn’t hurt them? The innocents I killed?” 

You don’t have anything to say to that. You just stand up, placing a hand on his shoulder as you pass by him. “I never blamed you, Logan.”

You don’t see Logan again after that. At least, not while you’re in the void. What was left of your little resistance was sucked up into the purple cloud of death. Only you and Laura are left with the carnage. 

Logan and Wade have disappeared to who knows where. It stings, to be on your own again. Sure, you have Laura, but she’ll never understand the pain of what happened to your universe. 

As much as it hurt, at least with Logan, you had someone to share the pain with. You could share your burden with him. You feel lonely and cold. Like there’s a part of you missing. You finally figure out what that ache is when the TVA comes to collect you and you see him again. 

He’s standing behind Wade as he enthusiastically tells you and Larua all about his world. But you can’t take your eyes off Logan, or the tentative smile on his face. Whatever had happened during that fight with Cassandra Nova had changed him, for the better. 

You smile back at him and it feels like taking a breath of fresh air after years. 

Apparently, whoever this world’s Flux had been, she was fucking insanely rich. And dead, which sucked for her but was great for you and Logan. 

It’s not hard for you to fake some government identities and explain that you’d been mistakenly marked as dead. It’s apparently pretty common in this universe. Superheroes are blipped out of existence all the time. You couldn’t get all of her assets as some had been liquidated, but you did get her giant ass house. 

You let Logan and Laura stay with you until they decide where they want to go. It’s better than living with Wade and his coke-fiend roommate. Laura finds her groove pretty quickly, it is her world after all. But you and Logan struggle to figure out what to do with yourselves. 

Neither of you has an interest in being X-Men again, and it seems like they’re not incredibly present in this world either. You also hadn’t been the best of friends, even before everything went wrong, back home. 

You’re not strangers, you’re not friends, you’re that awkward place in between. Each day is another opportunity to get to know each other. The progress might be slow, but you know that you’re getting closer to something real. 

It’s why you don’t feel any qualms about running into his room when you hear him shouting. You burst into his room and the door slamming against the wall isn’t even enough to wake him up. 

He’s writhing around in the bed, sheets twisted around his waist while sweat beads down his forehead. The noises he’s making remind you of a wounded animal. There’s something heartbreaking about this. 

He doesn’t get peace even when he’s sleeping. It makes you hurt for him. You want to smooth over the aches and pains he carries and burden yourself with them. 

The thought snaps you out of your reverie and you’re shocked by the revelation. You’d been growing closer to him, but you hadn’t thought you were growing this close. You feel so strongly for him, but you’re not ready to put a name on what it is that you feel for him. You just know that right now you want to make him feel better. 

You approach the bed cautiously, taking a seat beside him. The bed ripples and jolts underneath you as he tosses and turns. You place a gentle hand on his arm and shake, “Logan,” you whisper. You don’t want to startle him too bad. 

But he’s not responding to anything. It doesn’t matter how much you shake him or call out his name. Finally, you can’t handle it anymore. You get on your knees, sitting over him and bringing your palm down across his face as hard as you can. 

In a second he’s shooting up. You don’t even notice his hand until you see the way his vision clears. The visceral panic fades and something is aching in your gut. “Oh god, no no no,” he says the word so many times it stops sounding real. 

You look down and see the blood dribbling down his palm, the claws buried in your stomach. It’s almost funny, how perfectly aligned they are with the scar that already lived there. The reminder of your friend’s death being erased and reformed by Logan’s hand. 

He pulls his wrist back and you quickly snatch it up. “Don’t!” You shout, jaw clenching against the pain. “Don’t pull them out, I’ll just bleed out.”

“What the fuck am I supposed to do?” You know he’s worried, that’s why he snaps at you. But it doesn’t help the way you feel yourself fighting back tears.

He sees them drip down your cheeks and his face drops. His other hand, the one not in you, comes up and cradles your cheek. “What do I do?” He whispers, and he sounds more desperate than you do. 

You know he doesn’t want another death on his hands. But there’s something beyond that. He doesn’t want to be the reason you stop breathing. There’s a startling clarity when you’re slowly dying. 

He cares about you. Just as deeply as you do for him. You can’t make him go through this pain again. Can’t let him suffer alone, not when he’s made so much progress. “Slowly,” you tell him, guiding his claws out inch by inch. 

It’s hard not to black out. You’d barely felt it when he’d gotten you the first time. You think it’s because of how fast and sudden it was. But this, having them oh so slowly slicing through your insides is the worst form of torture. 

But you don’t heal like him. You have to close your eyes, focus on the pain, and forcibly reknit your skin back together. It’s a clever manipulation of your powers, but it’s a slow one. You could never take serious damage on the field because you wouldn’t be fast enough to repair yourself. 

This is easy to repair. But that doesn’t make it hurt less. It feels like an hour before he can safely draw them the rest of the way out. The second he does, you’re sinking into his arms with a pained sob. 

He clutches you so tightly to his chest you worry your back might snap. He keeps muttering apologies into your hair, hands desperately grasping at every inch of you he can hold. You’re too tired to say anything. 

You realized you should have. You should have told him you don’t blame him. You were the one who snuck into his room. You should have been smarter. But it doesn’t matter how many times you tell Logan not to blame himself, he always will. And you were too tired to try anyway. 

You only realize what’s happening two days after the incident. You figured he might need some space to process what happened. And honestly, you did too. It was awful and incredibly draining. You’ve felt fatigued ever since. 

But when you try and approach him and he just brushes past you like you weren’t even there, you know something is wrong. You watch his retreating back with a disturbed glare. You connect the dots quickly, already knowing what he’s doing. 

He doesn’t want to be responsible for hurting another person he loves. He can’t handle a loss like that again, even if it’s not by his hands. He wants to make sure you don’t want him, that you don’t care for him. Like that might ease the pain and guilt. 

But it wouldn’t. It would just make him feel worse. It would make you feel worse. 

You don’t waste a second, following him up the stairs and barging into his room before he can slam the door shut. It bounces off the wall and he lets out a deeply irritated sigh. He doesn’t turn to look at you, just walks over to his nightstand and rummages around through the doors.

You know he’s not looking for anything. He’s just trying to ignore you long enough for you to give up. It’s not going to happen, he should know better. 

You take a step further into the room and the smell of chemicals slams into you. Your nose wrinkles in disgust. It smells like he pumped Lysol into the vents. Your eyes dart to the bed and you sigh. 

Your blood, you’d completely forgotten. He must have been cleaning it up the morning after. You can’t blame him for wanting to get rid of the remainder. But this seems excessive. 

“Strong nose,” he mutters. You hadn’t realized you’d spoken aloud and you glanced over at him. “I can still smell it, even after cleaning.” He takes a seat on the bed and you hate the way his shoulders are slumped. 

He’d seemed so much more comfortable with himself lately. It’s like one accident has undone all his progress. “Logan,” you start, taking a step towards him. He holds his hand up, still not looking at you. 

It’s driving you insane. You wish he would just meet your eyes. You feel like you could change his mind if he would just see you. Maybe that’s why he won’t. He won’t let himself be happy. 

“Look, that night just made me realize what a huge fucking mistake this was.” He gets up and slides something out from under the bed. It takes a moment for you to register what it is. A duffel bag, packed with all his essentials and what little clothes he owns. 

He’s going to leave.

You act without thinking. Pure panic making your powers surge out. Logan grunts and the bag falls out of his hand. “Quit it,” he snipes, bending over to pick it up. But he can’t because it’s so heavy it’s making the wooden floor splinter and crack under its weight. 

“You don’t get to just leave when things get hard, Logan.”

He stands up, hands propped on his sides. There’s a challenge in his eyes that makes you nervous. “Fuck this,” he scoffs and brushes past you. 

It’s beyond manipulative to use your powers against him. But sometimes, someone is such a fucking idiot, they need a little outside help. You slam the door closed and the handle disappears, locking you both in his room. 

He turns towards you with a fierce glare on his face. “Open the goddamn door before I break it down.”

“You can try,” you taunt, a nasty tone to your voice. You’re sick of this. You’re sick of running from what you want. You’ve been miserable and alone for years. You want to be happy. For the first time in forever, you want something. 

And you want Logan to be happy with you. You can’t force him to feel the way you do. But you can stop him from actively preventing this. “Stop acting like a goddamn child and just talk to me!” You shout at him. 

There’s a disbelieving look on your face. You don’t understand why he won’t let this happen. Why does he have to fight so hard against any semblance of happiness in his life?

“I’m going to hurt you. That is all I do. I hurt the people I love and I cannot hurt you too.” Your eyes widen in shock at his outburst. Beyond anger, there was so much fear in his voice it was almost enough to make you miss what he’d said. 

“You love me?” You can see the realization dawn on him. The fact that he let slip why he’s so hesitant to be around you. You know he wants to leave, his eyes are darting around the room for an escape route, but you’ve blocked them all. You can’t let this go, not now. 

“Logan,” you snap, demanding an answer from him. 

“Fuck you,” he mutters, something vicious on his face. 

He’s going to hurt you. He’s going to lash out and say something cruel so that this doesn’t happen. You know him because you’ve been him. He will take every possible route to get out of this if it means he doesn’t have to face his feelings. 

You roll your eyes and take a step forward. You jerk him towards you and throw yourself on him before he can say something stupid. The kiss is brief, just enough to snap him out of this ridiculous headspace he’s in. 

When you pull back he looks dazed, but he’s relaxed in your hold, sinking towards you. You grin up at him, “I love you too, dumbass.” You lean up to kiss him again but you dart back at the last second, a mean glare on your face. “Pull some shit like this again and I’m going to melt your dick off.” 

You kiss him before he can respond, but you feel the smile against your lips. You can taste the defeat on his tongue as he wraps his arms around you and tugs you into his chest. He’s not going to push you away and you’re not going to let him. 

end. — I do not own the characters or the comics/movies Wolverine/X-Men, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

General Taglist: @evasmlp

Logan Taglist:  @nonamevenus @smexy-bucky-waifu @wh1sp @peony-always @corvusmorte  

@mrs-ephemeral  @wolviesgirl @allllium  ♡ 

[aurorawritestoescape]

LIKE IT’S THE LAST TIME || 900 words

Tw: 18+ minors dni, smut, unprotected piv, public, creampie, belly bulge, gun use.

Part two || Series masterlist

***

“Yeah… shit…yeah…like that.”

Joel’s low growling always turns you on more than any dirty talk ever could. His forehead is sweaty, teeth are mercilessly biting his lower lip as he’s trying not to blow his load into you just yet.

You’re riding his cock in a stuffy car, knees planted on the back seat to help him plunge his length deeper into your hot core. Only the condensation on the windows hides your indecent public behavior, doing a poor job at that as a few passers-by have already done a double take after glancing inside your car.

You don’t care. On days like this one you can’t let go of each other, lips kissing, tongues licking, hands grabbing one another like it’s your last time.

He playfully slaps your ass and you gasp, a little smile dancing on your heated face.

“’m I taking it good, Joel?”

The man hums, the sound muffled as he’s nuzzling a spot between your breasts. The scruff on his cheeks and chin is rubbing your sensitive skin but this little discomfort won’t stop you from chasing your ecstasy. Your pussy feels so good bouncing on his throbbing cock.

Joel moans through the gritted teeth and pride blooms in your heart when this big dangerous man forgets how to speak, forgets about everything, completely lost in the sensations your body is giving him.

You keep riding his length, slowing down and then picking up the pace again. Your hips are tilted back, as his steel member deliciously slides against your soft spot.

His hands spread your ass cheeks, and you feel cold air right at your hole as your slick collects at the base of his shaft. You’re so wet, your juices must be already sliding down his balls.

Joel’s plush lips form an ‘o’ shape, eyes flutter shut and he tilts his head back against the headrest.

“No, no, too soon… need more, Joel, c’mon”, you mumble hastily, taking his face in your hands and kissing him. You slow down trying to prolong the pleasure for the both of you. ‘Will I ever feel him like this again?’

A familiar thorn of fear pangs your heart but you drive it away caressing his lips with yours while you’re holding his face between your shaky palms. You blink your eyes open, so close to him everything is blurry in your gaze but you still take mental pictures of his freckles, his long lashes, his expression, so vulnerable and honest.

You store them deep inside you. For later. In case your luck fails you.

“Lean back, baby… yeah, good girl,” Joel murmurs as his hands push you back making you sit straight on his lap. His head drops down and he watches his cock disappear inside your glistening pussy.

“Fuck,” he growls, fingers digging into your thighs, “d’ya feel my cock? Shit, here it is,” he marvels, pressing his palm to a lump in your lower belly.

“Yeah, you’re so big, Joel,” you whine watching the bulge move up and down under your skin with every rise and fall of your hips.

His fingers find your clit and he rubs it fast with a perfect pressure and then begins vigorously thrusting up into your stretched pussy. Your whimpers turn into a constant whine when his fat tip hits your cervix again and again.

“Give it to me, baby, c’mon,” he encourages you, on the verge of climax himself and you hear it first, half moan-half roar that he always makes when he comes.

You feel his warm seed flood your pussy and the sensation makes your walls flutter, milking his pulsating cock.

You cry out, one hand braced on the window, the other gripping his broad shoulder as the waves of euphoria are hitting you over and over.

When your climax dissipates, you open your eyes and see Joel looking at you, his loving gaze taking in every feature of your face.

“What?” You ask with a shy smile as if you haven’t just stuffed your pussy full of his cum.

“Nothin’. Just lookin’ at you.” He sighs and adds, “We need to go.”

He helps you off his lap and after you both adjust your clothes, he opens the window, sticks his arm out of the car and slaps the roof a couple of times.

In a few seconds Tommy gets in the driver’s seat.

“So fucking long. Every damn time,” he grumbles frowning at Joel and you in the rear view mirror.

“‘s for good luck,” Joel mumbles as Tommy starts the engine.

“Did you at least sneak a peek, Tommy?” You ask giggling but quickly shut up when you see Joel’s stern look.

***

When you arrive at the place, Joel’s big hand on the back of your neck pulls you in for a kiss, desperate and rushed. It’s coated in promises and hopes, desire and love in every stroke of his lips as you clutch his plaid shirt with trembling fingers, kissing him back with everything you’ve got. Like it’s the last time.

Tommy wishes you luck before Joel and you get out of the car.

Right at the entrance Joel shoots you a wink through the balaclava opening and then storms in raising his gun.

As always your pussy tingles when you hear him roar the command,

“Hit the floor! This is a robbery!”

***

Part 2 || Series Masterlist || MASTERLIST

Let me know if you wanna be tagged for the series💖🌸

General tag list: @milla-frenchy @harriedandharassed @missannwinchester @iamasaddie @nervousmumbling @bbyanarchist @stevie75 @puduvallee @auteurdelabre

[patriarchyslut18]

I'm a proud gender traitor, even to my own friends. Story time...

Most of my friends don't know i've abandoned feminism and actively crave and support right wing, misogynistic men. I got lunch with a long time friend a couple months ago who started complaining about her boyfriend, apparently she thought he might be cheating on her and to top it off, she says that one time she was blowing him, he held her down on it without air while he came, despite her fighting to push him off. She said how it was basically sexual assault and how she wanted to break up with him because he was becoming more and more abusive due to a porn addiction. Slapping her during sex, spanking harder, choking her, spitting on her etc. I kind of nodded along with her, still trying to not expose my real thoughts to a close friend.

Fast forward a few weeks, i go out to drinks with this same friend. She was telling me she'd started withholding sex as punishment to him, they'd gone from sex most days to once a week and she said it was working, he was tamer during sex, less abusive and she was starting to enjoy it more. The whole time i was thinking about this poor man, this entitled bitch (one of my closest friends) thought she was better than him, that she could control him, a man. I hate women like this now. She is what's wrong with the world. So as the night goes on, we drink more and more, get pretty wasted but i encourage her to have more than me and she's not a girl who needs much encouraging to drink, so she gets blackout wasted, i'm pretty drunk but not so bad that i can't function. I call her BF and ask him to come pick us up from the bar, i can tell over the phone he's pissed that she got so drunk. He arrives and helps me put her in the back seat, out cold. I get in the front and we drive back to their place. I was angling my cleavage to him the whole ride home, flirting, telling him how great of a boyfriend he was to help her. Praising everything about him.

We pull up to their apartment block, we both carry her to the elevator, to their door and into their apartment, taking her and laying her in the recovery position on their bed. As we put her there, he's gotten sick of the work it's taken to move her and i took the opportunity to fan the flames. Apologizing to him, agreeing that she's selfish for making him baby her and that i feel sorry for him, that he doesn't deserve to have to put with it. That she doesn't deserve him. That she's become more selfish and entitled lately and i don't know why i'm still friends with her. Saying anything to connect us against her. I finally get what i want, he calls her a bitch, i agree without hesitation, encouraging him to let his hate for her flow. We go back and forth, talking about the things she does that annoy us, every little bad thing she's ever done. I'm so close to him on the couch by this point, my legs up resting against his. My hand on his leg, he puts his hand on my knee, i start to make out with him, straddle him, grind on him as we do. I was insta wet from his big hands groping at my ass. I slide down, taking his pants with me, kneeling between his legs and get to work sucking his cock. i didn't hold back, i gagged myself without him needing to, told him to slap me, he did, i told him harder, he almost knocked me over. I kept sucking, trying harder the rougher he was to me, wanting to reward him for abuse, make him forget all the shit my friend was trying to teach him. He grabbed my head with both hands and fucked my face without me even asking, i could tell he had so much pent up aggression and desire that my bitch firend wasnt letting him release. He pulled me off his cock and threw me over the couch in one motion, even though he's much bigger than me, his strength still surprised me, i felt like a ragdoll. He moved behind me and fucked my brains out, spanking me red, pulling my hair, choking me. I moaned the types of moans you just can't make up or suppress, the type of moans you only get from being completely lost in the moment. This whole time we can hear my friend snoring from the bedroom, the door was open and neither of us cared or made any effort to try and be quiet. Neither of us cared if she woke up. She deserved this, she did this to herself, thinking she was better than him. He didn't even warn me before he buried himself balls deep and pumped his load inside me, choking me with both hands as he did. He didn't have to, he knew i was his toy.

Finally he pulled out of me and i could barely move, leaking his cum, my whole body in a mixture of overwhelming pleasure and pain. He told me i was better than her which gave me such an intense feeling of pride and happiness. I told him he deserved a girl who would submit to his needs.

Eventually i slept on the couch, he went to bed. Two weeks after, i get messages from my friend telling me she's sure he's cheating, he's gone back to his old ways of being disrespectful. I showed him these texts the next time i saw him (that day) and got him to read out the whole conversation while i sucked his cock. He was fucking me on the side almost every day since that night. Every time i encouraged his abusive side to come out, made him know that it was okay, that is was his right as a man to do what he wanted. We would laugh at her behind her back.

Fast forward to last night. I get a tirade of messages and missed calls from my long time friend. She found out i was draining her man's balls religiously. It was his apartment so she got thrown out (lol), i ignored her and went to be his toy again that very night, finally staying the night.

She may have been one of my best friends for nearly 10 years, but I can get new friends, and i'll probably fuck their boyfriends and husbands too. I think i've developed a homewrecking kink from this. Nothing turns me on more than betraying my own gender and serving superior men.

No friendship, no matter how close or long it is, feels better than serving an alpha male's throbbing abusive cock.