#if you'd be enveloped by his scent and his touch' | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

likehoneyandsilk · 1 day ago

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Sugarplum Fairies and Sultry Nights

A little Christmas treat! Inspired by Hold Me Close, Hold Me Tight. Happy Holidays everyone ✨ - peace and love to you all. ❤️ (18+)

Each passing season burgeoned a new found enchantment in the stillness and frenzy of motherhood. In the early presence of Spring, you woke to helpless wails, the sound somewhat foreign and all too frightening. You would hold your precious little boy close, soothing away his discontent with a faint brush of your finger to his cheek, your heart settling as did his cries. As your weary eyes adjusted to frosted windows and glittering specks of trickling sunlight peeking in by noon, you would become painted in a glistening yellow hue. Sunlight bathed both you and Jora, as you breastfed, perched underneath the window in a rocking chair. You would watch his honey brown eyes wander your face as he embedded the beauty of his mother to mind.

Sleep overnight was scarce, your bundle of joy hungry and seeking the existence of his mother. Fatigue consumed you throughout Spring, Joe's tender touches helping you out of bed, his arms wrapped around your waist as he held your frame while Jora latched to your breast. You relished in the tranquility of Spring nights, your back pressed against your husband's, his long muscular legs cascading around yours, and his lips pressed to your ear, murmuring just how breathtaking of a mother you were.

And with Spring came the doubtful thoughts, all too encompassing fears of failing as a mother. When fatigue consumed you senselessly, limbs fragile and emotions shakeable, your lover held you close. Reminding you of the beauty of the life before you, basking you in the sunlight as Jora slept, guiding your eyes to the blossoming flowers. "You're blossoming," Joe would whisper, rubbing circles at the back of your hand, ushering away hiccuped cries and wiping away fearful tears. "Blossoming into the mother I know you can be."

By Summer, you had fallen into a dazed routine. Jora slept more soundly at night, the feedings less frequent. Instead of wailing cries, you woke to sunlight wafting through the French doors of your master bedroom. Body plush against the California King, scent of rich velvety coffee consuming your senses. The trailing fingers, tracing every stretch mark - a reminder of the golden boy laying in the nearby room - against your naked frame, engulfed in cotton sheets and ears filling with the chirping birds and the everlasting sweet innuendo's passing through your husband's lips.

Your eyes would open to the fleet of butterfly kisses against your cheek, the unhinged tracing of incoherent patterns separating your thighs, hovering touches to the lace concealing the sacred spot between your legs. And when his thick fingers would embed deep into the plush skin of your thighs, your chocolate brown eyes would meet his oceanic blue, a reminder that Summer brought upon a new wake in Joe - devoted entirely to you and your little family. It was the teasing remarks of growing your family, his "little man" needing a "little sister". You'd hush him with a kiss, pressing your body into his, inhabiting yourself against his large frame, fingers dancing in his luscious brown hair.

By Autumn, the outside world became painted in glories of muted orange, yellow, and red. The smell of cinnamon and spice graced every corner of the home, the candles casting ominous shadows of your little family. Nights became longer, mornings barely attainable as your lover would press a kiss to your forehead, pull the covers tightly over your frame, and leave before even a fraction of daylight graced the sky. In Autumn, you woke to the sounds of an alarm clock, limbs quickly moving to grace the honey brown eyes of your baby boy, who waited patiently in his crib, mumbling unintelligible nothings that brought you joy. The lingering woody scents of you Joe's perfume enveloping you and your baby boy in an embrace, a sentiment that he had been in the nursery, savouring any and all precious time with his golden boy this season.

And with Winter came a harsh storm of bitter cold and frozen wrath. Despite Joe's tremendous attempts to rewrite the course of the Bengals' season, he often fell short. Nights became lonesome as you lay in bed alone for hours, his end of the bed empty till his tired frame would enter the doorway, a disapproved and apologetic smile on his face as he recalled yet another missed bedtime, another missed night to hold his son, another missed moment to spend with his wife. But in all chaos that ensued, in all misfortunes that crossed his mind, he would fall to your embrace, wrapping his arms around you, seeking silent solace as you held him, fingers brushing into his hair, residual scents of your floral perfume and Jora's baby powder lulling him to serene.

Despite the limitations of his precious time, Joe would pull from your hold in the early wakes of day, when darkness devoured the sleeping sky, the faint sounds of your waking and hungry baby boy assimilating your jaded senses. It was the gentle mumbles of, "I got him, go back to sleep mamas", that would send you in a haze, the warmth of Joe's hand rubbing the small of your back. And when you did rise, you would follow the white light cascading in through the windows, toes curling against the carpet, and watch from the door of the nursery as Joe held his son, his chest bare, eyes heavy with sleep but filled with endearing love and infatuation. And ever so silently would you stand, heart swelling as his muscular arms held Jora, close to his bare chest, whispering gentle reminders of his love and future promises he swore to uphold.

And so, on this Christmas Eve night, as you stood in Jora's nursery, rocking him back and forth as he slept in your arms, you prayed he dreamt of sugarplum fairies and iridescent lights. You hummed a mindless Christmas tune, the delicacy of the sound drawing his mind and body back into a dreamy state. He was lost in peaceful bliss, snuggled against your breast, lips parted. Adorned in a cozy red onesie his grandmother knit him, the words First Christmas patched waywardly on the back.

The Bengals' had hosted the Browns' for a Christmas Eve special that ended in a spectacular win. Playoff hopes were kept alive yet again, the city an electric buzz of the impeccable Christmas miracle. Before settling Jora for the night, you pranced across the living room with him, his giggles filling the air as you pointed at the television. "There's daddy, baby, look! Daddy won!"

And although he had no clue what foreign words you spoke to him, his giggles proceeded, eyes bright and vibrant as he glanced at his joyous mother and reflections of his father on the big screen. He had taken an immense interest in the Christmas tree in the corner, brightly lit with twinkling yellow lights and ruby red ornaments. Each morning, when his mind was still at ease and the time on the clock slow, Joe held Jora firmly in his hold, watching as his tiny little arms outstretched towards the ruby red balls, grasping them in pure fondness. His babbles would fill the silent morning air, immensely absorbed in the twinkling lights, curious eyes dancing between the tree and his father's. It was next to the same tree, would Joe kiss you, pulling you firmly against him. Kisses this season had been bold and filled with love, a reminder that no matter the length of time spent apart, he yearned for you. And when you would release you, a smirk gracing his pink lips, satisfied with how easily he took your breath away, fingers grazing over the rouge on your flushed cheeks, would he turn to Jora, who often lay in his playpen. "Take care of your mom, alright buddy?"

It was a teasing tone, sealed with a kiss to Jora's cheek, and the profound, "Love you guys", as he would exit from the front door, leaving you standing, picking at the reminders of him throughout the day, from the remnants of his scent, to the last few sips of black coffee in his mug, and persistent sensation of his hands on your body.

Tonight, the front door opened as the clock struck quarter to midnight. You listened for the heavy yet quiet footsteps ascend up the stairs. Jora lay soundly before you in his crib now, unknowing to the arrival of his father. A large frame, a familiar shadow cast along the doorway, pulling your attention from one boy to the other. You smiled softly at the sight of Joe.

A tired yet pristine glow flashed across his face, hair a slightly messy yet undeniably soft from his post game shower. He smelt of locker room shampoo, nose slightly red from the cold outside. A crisp black shirt adorned his body, black jeans covering his thick legs. It took him two large strides to consume your space, hands seamlessly falling at your waist as he leaned towards you. The satin night slip did no justice keeping you warm, but his sudden arrival showered you in a warmth so tender and comforting. His right hand trailed upwards, finding resident in your hair, the ends of his thick digits soothing any lingering doubts in your mind.

"Great game nine." The affirming words, barely audible in your whispered tone crept past your luscious lips, your eyes meeting his with such a timid gaze. His hand dropped from your hair, trailing down your back, teasingly riding the frilly ends of your night slip higher, till he rested his hand on sliver of exposed supple skin of your rear. You blushed, nuzzling your head into his chest. Joe relaxed into your embrace, as your arms snaked around his neck, eyes closing when his lips pressed to your neck.

"Sure as hell needed it." He was quiet, careful not to wake Jora, but his voice was always hoarse and heavy after games, igniting a fire in your stomach that you could not deny. "Jora sleeping okay?"

When Joe pulled back, he did so briefly, stepping behind you as you both faced your baby boy. Carefully, Joe reached for Jora's smaller hand, his finger instantly becoming wrapped in the little hand. Joe relaxed into you, his chin resting along your shoulder, as he gazed at Jora, the slight guilt of missing his bedtime yet again evident across his baby blues. You nodded, silently assuring him. "Just fed him again, went to sleep quick."

Pulling your eyes from Jora, you turned, back pressed against the crib and chest millimetres from your husband. Underneath the yellow lamp light, you could make out the faint bruise along his the underside of his jaw. His eyes bore into yours, a heavy yet mischief smile on his lips. "I'll give you some with him." You tilted your head back to Jora, pressing a chaste kiss to Joe's cheek before fleeing his presence.

And while Joe became lost in Jora, escaped the constraints of the world and in tune with his sleeping baby boy, you washed away the day. The warm water of the shower basked your skin in a delightful cordiality. Standing before the mirror not to long after, bare and open, you gazed at the wonders of motherhood across your body. Fuller breasts, stretch marks across your body, and the undeniable glow of playing mommy. Before you stood a girl who was once so afraid to fail, that over a year ago, stood in the same position, whispering sweet promises to the growing baby in her belly.

And now, feeling heightened in the way you seemed to glimmer, embracing the beauty of motherhood, and in the spirit of Christmas, you flushed red as you dressed yourself in a sultry lingerie set, prepping your skin in a vanilla honey lotion you knew drove your husband senseless. You hoped to take his breath away, just as effortlessly he took yours.

Christmas Eve had long become Christmas Day when Joe returned to your shared bedroom. He found you sitting up in bed, resting your back against the headboard. The room smelt of lavender and honey, room warm as the humid heat that existed only after a shower traveled from the bathroom door. Tired yet intoxicating eyes met his, your chocolate brown orbs almost black in the dim light. He neared slowly, running a hand through his hair, agonizingly slow as if embedding this moment in his mind.

He often thanked his lucky stars he had found you. Not only was your heart and mind pure and full of love, it was the mere beauty that you upheld that often left him at a loss for words. Unequivocally, you made his heart skip a beat, left him speechless, and insensibly craving your attention and tender touches. Your voice, velvety and dulcet, emancipated his senses like no other. Skin rich and brown, your hair jet black and thick. It was unfathomable the way motherhood had only elevated the majestic beauty of your existence to your lover. The stretch marks, the way your breasts were tender and full, a newfound love in your eyes, and the mere intoxication he found himself in the way you cared for Jora.

And tonight, was no different.

You rose from bed slowly, standing firmly on your feet before meeting him halfway. His eyes raked over your body as you stood a few inches from him. face bare of any makeup, but long lashes framing those heavenly eyes. Cheeks rouge from the timidness you upheld, and the found courage to lead whatever you desired for the night. Hair falling along your back, the curls loose, but shining and inevitably soft. You had not bothered to adjust the satin white robe. It fell over your right shoulder, a teasing preview of the dark green lace that adorned your frame. The gold Cartier 9 necklace rested against your chest, a faded love bite peeking from underneath the robe.

"Merry Christmas Joe." The words leaving your lips came out breathless, a shaking reminder of what hovering thoughts crossed his mind seeing you like this. All exhaustion and pain consuming his soul, any sense of fatigue left his body as he neared you. He was gentle, lifting your chin with such ease, forcing your eyes to meet. His appeared restless, his eyes raking over your frame once more, a heartfelt sigh of content and mere infatuation causing his chest to flutter.

You kissed him first, the last picture washing through your mind of his lustful darkening pupils that were no longer oceanic blue. He was careful, easing you into a night of splendour. His lips molded against yours, igniting a thousand sparks in your core as his fingers wrestled with the ties holding your robe. The kiss was slow - steady - and when his tongue met yours, he caught you against him, savouring the tastes of mint toothpaste. He felt his lips curl into a smile against yours, before pulling back, granting you the air he deprived.

He undressed your slowly, wordlessly, his eyes growing larger and softer as he exposed every curvature and imperfection. The dark green lace concealed your most intimate spots, the colour exquisite against your skin. His fingers danced silently over you, tracing the outline of yours breasts, grazing down your stomach, eyes flashing to yours before lingering at the waistband of your panties.

Something as simple as his touch left a fire burning on your skin, an impatient yet endearing desire for him to take you all the way. Before he could proceed, just as his thick fingers nestled their way between your thighs, you pressed yourself against him, arms wrapping around his neck as he kissed you yet again, a chuckle leaving his lips at the way you burned against his touch. His hands rested at the small of your back, and it took a forbearing push to guide you backwards, your head meeting the pillows, his body hovering over yours.

You broke the captivating kiss, a groan escaping your lips at the sensation of him unclasping your bra. Before he could expose your chest entirely, he paused, his silence soon overcome with a desire that flashed over his eyes like no other. His thigh nestled between your legs, creating friction against your clothed lotus, your mind a frenzy as tempestuous warmth crept up your stomach.

For a few seconds, he watched the emotions pass through your eyes. Lust, greed, desire, and most of all impeccable infatuation. An unexplainable love, your hands resting against his face, pulling him close as he guided you through a high.

"You're the most beautiful girl in this world, you know that?"

Unable to speak you flushed, your face burning once again, hips impatiently lifting up, the action creating further friction as you slid up his thigh. His lashes fluttered against your neck, his teeth grazing sensitive skin. His hips pressed against your own. You moaned as the heat rose from you, the delicate fabric of lace concealing you pooling with wetness. His eyes found yours again, hands nestled around your waist as he held you still, commanding all attention on him. You chest rose profusely, lips trembling ever so slightly, hair sprawled underneath you. His finger brushed back a lonesome hair, a softness washing over his features, and for a fraction of a second you swore his eyes became a topaz blue you had never seen in all these years.

"I swear mamas, I keep falling for you. I want you for every Christmas I live to see." His finger brushed a single tear that escaped your right eye, the revelation filled with so much love and thought, your mind a senseless spree of a thousand emotions. His lips parted once more to speak, your hands no enveloping together.

"Merry Christmas baby, I love you so fucking much."

And with that flawless statement, filled with immense gratitude, love, and appreciation, he descended upon you. As his shirt was rid from his frame, he wallowed in your touch, hands brushing across every pane, every bruise. Skin to skin, you relished in the close proximity. And he kissed you with such delicacy, dreamy eyes meeting yours as you filled the air with faint moans, his name whispered endearingly surrounding him.

From your lips, to your neck, down to your chest. And then he freed you, your chest fully exposed, his lips pressing against tender skin. And you swore, you were convinced your head spun as he treated down your stomach, his digits tracing every scar and stretch mark, mumbling endearing terms of your beauty, invading your air and mind. The sheets were grasped within your nimble hands, faint whimpering and helpless trails of his name bouncing off the walls.

And you became one, as your panties were pulled down, achingly slow, and his lips finally on you. As you whiter against him, his arms firm around your hips, he sends you in a euphoric high. And you become one, a beautiful tangled mess, a united front.

And when morning comes, as you lay together as one, lingering scents of sex and sweet nuisances heavy in the air, he wakes you with such tranquility.

It is Christmas morning.

You lay as one, body pressed against body. His shirt covers your frame, cheeks still flush from the antics of last night. Silence consumes you both, his fingers tracing constellations on your hip. You desire nothing more but to sink further into the mattress, savouring the attendance of your lover.

"Jora's gonna wake soon, why don't we get up before he does?"

Joe's morning voice is captivating, pulling you from sleep as you adjust your eyes to the growing white light of freshly fallen snow outside the French doors captivating the room. The clock reads a time far to early to fathom wakefulness, but you oblige when his arm snake around your frame, pulling you from slumber and into the bathroom.

Steam surrounds you, as he fills the tub with lavender salts. You sit perched on the vanity, watching him work in silence. His sweatpants hang low on his waist, the muscles of his back flexing with each movement. He is a delicious sight, a captivating need, and a impeccable dream. And when he approaches you, consuming your space with his presence, you fall at his grace as he undresses you, guiding you into the bath. You inhale as warm water envelopes you in comfort, easing against him as he sits behind you, holding you close.

It is not to long before you settle in the kitchen. An cheeky oversized Christmas sweater covers your frame. Your face is enveloped by your hair, eyes an ignited rich brown. It is a dull yet pleasant Christmas thus far. Soft chatter about the game from the night before flows between you and you lover, the occasional claims excitement of opening gifts once Jora is awake and fed. Joe stands across from you dressed in an grey hoodie, masking him in a snug embrace. And you watch the way he speaks, eyes animated, browns furrowed when he speaks of discontented woes, and it takes a subtle pull on the waistband of his pants, before he arrives before you, legs spread as you jump onto the counter.

The taste of peppermint mocha is divine in your mouth, the waft of his black coffee pulling your from a drizzle of fatigue that settles in your bone. You smile as he succumbs to you, dropping his head lower, while at your height you gaze up at him endearingly. "I love you nine." You smile, chuckling as he kisses your jaw, teeth grazing a love bite from before. "I love you too, I love you alot."

And you kiss, slowly and softly, basking in each others comfort. Till a sound erupts from the baby monitor. Joe pulls you from your spot, hand engulfing yours as he leads you to the nursery.

And so, this Christmas morning, you sit underneath the lit tree. Naked limbs outstretched, surrounded by Joe's longer ones. His hands wrapped around your waist, lips brushing over your ear. Jora in your lap, as he smiles up in awe at the tree above him, belly full of milk.

"This is all I could ask for." Joe announces, pressing a kiss to your cheek, his lips lingering there as Jora lets out a squeal of delight. You smile, laughing softly, feeling Joe's nose against your hair, as his lips press another kiss to the side of your head. His fingers tickle the bottom of Jora's foot, who appears all the more elated.

"Maybe next year, we'll be here again. With a little sister for your little man." You turn your head abruptly, meeting an eager Joe, a smirk across his lips and those blue eyes once again filled with admiration. He kisses you sweetly, his fingers now underneath your sweater, mindlessly toying with your soft skin. And when your foreheads rest against each other, the peace of this Christmas so tender, the hazy passion of becoming one from the hours prior, he does nothing but fall intoxicated your presence, finding solace in the comfort of his wife and baby.

"I sure hope so mamas, I sure hope so."

#joe burrow #joe burrow one shot #cincinnati bengals #cincinnati bengals imagines #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow imagines #joe burrow x reader #nfl imagines

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brainddeadd · 2 days ago

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Christmas Chaos with the New Jersey Devils

Christmas morning at the Devils' shared house (Jack and Luke's apartment) kicks off exactly how you'd expect—with sheer bedlam. Cinnamon rolls bake in the oven, Christmas music blares too loud from a Bluetooth speaker, and the boys are already hyped, even though it’s barely 8 AM.

You emerge from your room in pajama pants and a sweatshirt, rubbing sleep from your eyes. “You guys don’t sleep, do you?”

Jack’s head pops out from behind the tree, grin wide. “Nope! Merry Christmas!” He barrels toward you, hugging you like a human battering ram.

“You’re gonna crush me before I even get to the presents,” you mutter, trying to wiggle out of his grip.

Luke strolls over next, ruffling your hair affectionately. “Merry Christmas, bub. You ready for some chaos?”

“Isn’t that the only thing you guys know how to do?” you deadpan, earning a laugh from Nico, who hands you a hot chocolate.

“Come on,” Dawson urges with a grin, “let’s get to the presents before Jack tears everything open himself.”

The living room feels warm and cozy, the tree twinkling with lights. Stockings hang by the mantle, the scent of cinnamon filling the room. It would’ve been peaceful—if not for the boys acting like children hyped up on sugar.

Luke nudges you. “We all know what you got Trevor. Wanna take bets on his reaction?”

You laugh. “I’m telling you, he’s going to love it. It’s peak Z.”

Jack snickers. “A clown keychain. You really did him dirty.”

Nico grins. “You know he’ll laugh his ass off.”

Everyone settles around the tree as you hand out gifts one by one, watching eagerly for reactions.

For Jack, it’s a framed collage of his hockey journey—snapshots from Team USA days, his Devils debut, and goofy moments with his teammates. He stares at it, his usual cocky grin faltering. “Y/N, this is… really cool. Thank you.” His voice softens, and you know it means a lot.

For Luke, it’s a sleek skate-blade necklace with the words "Glide through life. - Bub" engraved on the back. He blinks, clearly surprised. “This is… way better than anything I got you.” He pulls you into a side hug. “Thanks, bub.”

For Nico, it’s a signed jersey from one of his childhood hockey heroes. His jaw drops. “No way.” He stares at it like it’s pure gold before enveloping you in a hug. “This is incredible. Thank you.”

For Dawson, it’s a beautiful leather-bound journal filled with little handwritten notes from you—encouragements for the hard days and funny quips for when he needs a laugh. “This is… perfect,” he murmurs, his grin soft. “Thank you, Y/N.”

The boys exchange looks as they admire their gifts, touched by the thoughtfulness.

“We were supposed to be the ones taking care of you,” Jack mutters, nudging you. “How come you’re so good at this?”

Luke laughs, throwing an arm around your shoulders. “She’s growing up, Jack. Bub's got heart.”

You roll your eyes. “Oh, please. You guys are big softies.”

“Next Christmas,” Nico says seriously, “we’re going all out for you. This was too good.”

Just as you’re settling into the post-present glow, your phone buzzes. The boys exchange knowing grins as you pick it up and see Trevor’s name on the screen.

“It’s happening,” Dawson mutters.

You smirk as you answer. “Merry Christmas, Z!”

Trevor’s face fills the screen, bright-eyed and laughing. “Merry Christmas, Y/N! I just opened your gift, and—what the hell—this clown keychain is the best thing I’ve ever seen!” He holds it up proudly. “You know me too well. I’m putting this on my bag immediately.”

Jack and Luke burst out laughing in the background. “Told you he’d love it!”

“What can I say?” Trevor grins. “I love chaos. You nailed it.”

“I knew it was your vibe,” you reply smugly. “Merry Christmas, clown boy.”

After ending the call, you sink back onto the couch, feeling the warmth of the holiday settle deep in your chest. Jack is still chuckling about Trevor’s reaction, Luke’s already trying to coordinate a rematch of a family board game, and Nico leans in with a knowing smile.

“You’ve got a gift,” he says quietly. “Not just with presents—but with people.”

Dawson nudges you, grinning. “Lucky us, huh?”

As the day stretches on, the house stays alive with laughter, arguments over board games, and way too many snacks. The boys are relentless in teasing you about Trevor’s keychain, but their affection is clear in every nudge and joke.

And for the first time in a while, you feel completely at home.

“Best Christmas ever,” you whisper to yourself, a smile tugging at your lips.

Jack hears you and slings an arm around your shoulders. “And it’s only getting started.”

#° braindead writes #nico hischier x reader #nico hischier fanfic #nico hischier imagines #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes imagines #luke hughes fanfic #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes imagines #jack hughes fanfic #dawson mercer x reader #dawson mercer imagines #dawson mercer fanfic #new jersey devils x reader

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malavera · 4 months ago

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Peaches: “Will you forgive me... Daddy?” (18+) — Logan Howlett

this is a part 2 of my series called Peaches, but it can be read as a standalone 😉 if you wish to check out the part 1 click here!

summary: It’s not like you can’t take care of yourself, no. Your dad just worries a lot so he asks for your friendly old man neighbor to look after you while he’s gone on his business trip. But is that all?

warning: SMUT! MDNI. a little bit fluff, ddlg dynamic, bratty!reader, dom!logan, oral M receiving, throatfucking

taglist: @wcndercore @peachyystuff @kholdkill @narjuko @the-occasional-artist1125 @robynanthonystark @suchasweetieee @jensojkaobecna @explainthisaetheists @currentlyquestioningexistence @cathers-world @seasonofthenerd @thinkinonsense comment if you'd like to be tagged for the next part 😉

The peach-colored bath bomb hisses as it plunges into the warm water, sending ripples through the surface. It fizzes and dissolves, releasing a cloud of sweet fragrance that wraps around the room like a soft, intoxicating embrace. You inhale deeply, the scent pulling you back to a moment not so long ago. As the steam rises, you let the bathrobe slip from your shoulders, but hesitate. The water beckons, promising comfort and warmth, yet something in you resists. His scent still clings to your skin—a haunting reminder of a presence now gone. The thought of washing it away feels like surrendering the last trace of him, and for a moment, you stand there, torn between the allure of the soothing bath and the ache of holding on to what remains.

But in the end, the warmth proves too inviting, and you let yourself slip into the bath. The water envelops you, pulling you into its embrace as your mind replays the scene, vivid and haunting. You can almost see him again, the way he casually brought his fingers to his lips, licking the last remnants of you with a slow, deliberate ease. He didn’t say a word, but that smirk—so confident, so sure—spoke volumes. It was a silent claim, a parting message that lingered as he turned to leave, leaving you with nothing but the fading echo of his presence and the water that now seems too gentle, too cleansing, against the memory you wish to keep.

Time has slipped away, and now, two weeks have passed since that moment. It feels like a distant dream, yet the memory remains sharp, refusing to fade. You’ve been avoiding Logan ever since, even though that’s not what he wants from you. He’s the opposite of what you’ve intended to do; he wants you to embrace it. He wants you to embrace your desire.

But like what you are, you’re too much of a pussy to face your own desire. Even though it aches for his touch.

Now, with your dad away on a business trip, you couldn't be more thrilled. The house is yours, a rare freedom that has your mind buzzing with possibilities. You imagine nights without curfew, slipping out into the night without a care, and not having to worry about getting caught. But your excitement gets the best of you, and you celebrate too soon. Just when you think you’ve outsmarted the system, your dad’s words come crashing down like a cold wave, his rules and expectations finding a way to reach you even when he’s miles away, dampening the thrill before it even begins,

“I’ve asked Logan to watch over you here and there. So, I won’t worry much. He’ll update me on whatever it is you do so, behave.”

Fun right?

And here you are, sitting in the diner’s booth with your girlfriends, the buzz of conversation and the smell of greasy food filling the air. They’re all planning to head to a party after this, and when they mention the time—10 PM—your stomach flips. That’s your curfew, the invisible line you’ve never dared to cross. But tonight, the temptation is too strong, and you’re about to go for it, to finally break the rules. Just as you’re about to give in, the door chimes, and there he is—Logan, strolling into the diner like he owns the place. He walks right up to you, his presence sending a jolt through your resolve, and without a word, he makes it clear he’s not letting you out of his sight tonight. As he takes your hand, you know the party isn’t in the cards anymore—Logan’s about to take you on a different kind of ride.

Crossing your arms tightly over your chest, you pout, your bottom lip jutting out as you stubbornly refuse to look straight ahead. “I’m not a seventeen-year-old,” you mutter under your breath, the words more for yourself than for him.

“But you act like one,” Logan shoots back with a tsk, not missing a beat.

You scoff, rolling your eyes. “I’m twenty-three, for god’s sake. Both of you need to stop treating me like a baby!” You huff, finally turning to face him. He’s driving with effortless ease, one hand on the steering wheel, the other casually resting against the door. The simple, relaxed way he holds himself only makes him look even more frustratingly attractive. You hate that he’s right, but more than that, you hate that you can’t stop noticing just how good he looks when he’s in control.

Stubborn as ever, you dig in, determined not to let him win this round. You reminded yourself of why you were fuming in the first place, the anger bubbling back to the surface. “Stop the truck,” you demanded, your voice edged with frustration.

Logan’s head snapped towards you, surprise flashing in his eyes. “What?”

“I said stop the truck, or I’ll jump, and I won’t hesitate. Do not test me right now, I swear, Logan,” you grumbled, your tone leaving no room for doubt. Your sudden tantrum catches him off guard, and for a moment, the confident Logan you’re used to falters. The sweet little peach he thought he knew is nowhere to be found, replaced by someone fierce and unpredictable.

It intrigues him. Something in your defiance pulls at him, piquing his curiosity. He’s not sure what you’re planning, but he wants to find out. Without a word, he slows the car, watching you closely, waiting to see what you’ll do next.

The tension in the car was thick, suffocating even, as you glared at Logan, fury burning in your eyes. The moment felt like it could explode any second, and you weren’t willing to sit there another minute. With a sharp huff, you pushed the door open and stormed out of the car, the cool night air hitting your face like a slap.

“Peach!” Logan’s voice boomed, filled with an urgency that barely masked his frustration. He fumbled with his seatbelt, the metal buckle clinking violently before he freed himself and followed you out. The car door slammed behind him, reverberating in the stillness. “What the hell are you doing?!”

You didn’t stop. “I’m going to my friends, and you can’t stop me!” Your voice was a defiant shout, each word a hammer striking the fragile foundation of whatever was left between you two. Your footsteps were quick, determined to leave him and everything he represented behind.

Logan’s grunt was more animal than man, filled with a rawness that made your heart lurch. “Peach, I swear, get back in the fucking car!” His voice cracked through the night, a desperate command that echoed around you.

But you didn’t turn back. Not this time. “No! And stop calling me that, that’s not even my name!” You shot back, your words slicing through the tension like a blade, final and unyielding.

As you thought you’d finally put enough distance between yourself and his truck, something shifted beneath you—your feet were no longer pounding against the pavement. You shrieked in surprise, your arms flailing as you tried to break free. But before you could fully process what was happening, you were momentarily released, only for Logan to scoop you up again, this time slinging you over his shoulder with a grunt of determination.

"You're not going anywhere, not even in that dress," Logan growled, his voice rough and unwavering, sending a chill down your spine. You writhed in his grasp, pounding your fists against his broad back with all the force you could muster.

"Let me go! Please! Help, someone!" Your voice rang out, desperate and frantic, but the night offered no solace. The street was eerily quiet, not a single car in sight, no one to hear your cries. The only response was the echo of your own voice and the steady, unyielding pace of Logan’s steps as he carried you back towards his truck.

Logan wasted no time strapping you into the passenger seat, his hands moving with a practiced efficiency that left no room for protest. The door slammed shut with a resounding thud, and before you could unbuckle yourself, he was already climbing into the driver’s seat. Your frustration bubbled over, and you flailed your arms, grunting and throwing a full-blown tantrum like a five-year-old denied their favorite toy.

But then Logan’s voice erupted, filling the car with a booming authority that silenced you instantly. “ENOUGH!” The word hung in the air, heavy and final. Your arms froze mid-motion, and you stared at him with your brows furrowed and lips pouting, the anger in your eyes now mixed with a hint of confusion.

Logan’s gaze softened just a fraction, but his tone remained firm as he continued, “I’m just doing what your dad wants me to do here, Peach. So help me God, if you wanna go hang out with your friends past curfew, fine, I’ll let you go. But not this one!” His voice was low, edged with a protectiveness that made your heart skip a beat. “I’m not letting you go out there to that fucking stupid party where you could probably get drugged or have alcohol shoved down your throat without your consent; no fucking way.”

The weight of his words settled over you, and for a moment, the car was filled with nothing but the sound of your heavy breathing, the tension between you both palpable.

Logan’s eyes flicked over to you, taking in the way your chest still heaved with heavy, frustrated breaths. He understood why. The anger bubbling inside you wasn’t just about this moment—it was about the bigger picture, the suffocating sense of disappointment that came from a reality that refused to bend to your desires. You craved freedom, the kind that seemed to come so easily to everyone else.

All you wanted was to be like the others out there, those who could breeze past curfew without a second thought, who laughed and danced through the night without anyone holding them back. Hell, they didn’t even have curfews anymore, not since they turned twenty-one. But here you were, feeling like the world was passing you by, like you were missing out on all the big, exhilarating experiences that came with being young and reckless.

You’d never touched alcohol, never gone to a party where the night stretched into the early hours, never done anything that could be described as recklessly fun. And it gnawed at you. The longing for that freedom, for the chance to let loose and live a little, was a weight on your chest, one that no amount of logic or concern from Logan could lift.

Logan watched you quietly, his grip on the steering wheel tightening as he saw the storm brewing in your eyes, the conflict between the person you were and the person you wanted to be. He knew he couldn’t give you the freedom you craved, not in this moment. But he couldn’t ignore your pain, either.

Logan leaned over, his movements deliberate as he unbuckled your seatbelt. You watched him, confusion flickering in your eyes as the sharp edges of your anger began to soften. His gaze met yours, steady and calm, as he murmured, “C’mere.”

Before you could fully process what was happening, his hand found your thigh, firm yet gentle as he lifted you up and guided you to sit on his lap, sideways. The shift in position felt unexpected, your body tensing for a moment before you let yourself relax into the warmth of his embrace.

Logan’s strong arms wrapped around you, guiding your body to lean against his chest. He carefully positioned your head on his shoulder, his touch tender as if he knew exactly how to soothe the turmoil raging inside you. The steady rhythm of his breathing, the solid feel of his chest rising and falling beneath you, gradually eased the tension from your muscles.

In his arms, the world outside the car seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in the quiet, shared space. The anger and frustration still simmered, but now, in Logan’s embrace, it felt more manageable, less like a storm and more like a lingering cloud.

Logan's voice rumbled softly against your ear as he spoke, the firmness in his tone leaving no room for argument. “I’m taking you home, alright? Whether you like it or not, I don’t care. But if you want to go out with your girlfriends tomorrow night doing other things than PARTYING, you bet your ass I’m gonna lock you in the house myself. Deal?”

You didn’t respond immediately, the weight of his words settling in as you considered his offer. It wasn’t exactly what you wanted, but it was better than nothing. The compromise, though not ideal, felt like a small victory. So, without saying a word, you nodded your head against his shoulder, accepting his terms.

Logan seemed to take your silent agreement as enough, his arms tightening around you in a way that felt protective rather than restrictive. The frustration still lingered, but there was also a sense of relief in knowing that, at least for tonight, you didn’t have to keep fighting.

“Okay,” Logan murmured as he turned the key, the engine of the truck rumbling to life. You instinctively started to shift, ready to slide off his lap and back into the passenger seat, but his hand on your thigh halted your movement.

“Whoa, whoa, where are you going?” His voice held a teasing edge, but there was no mistaking the seriousness in his eyes as they locked onto yours.

“But, you’re about to dri—” you began, but Logan cut you off with a grunt.

“I don’t care,” he said, his gaze intense, the authority in his tone leaving no room for argument. “Make yourself comfortable and sit on my lap like a good girl, no more tantrum.”

The command sent a shiver down your spine, your breath catching in your throat as you met his stare. The tension from earlier was still there, but now it was mixed with something else, something that made your pulse quicken. His grip on your thigh was firm, but his touch was still gentle, almost reassuring.

Slowly, you settled back into his lap, your body leaning against his solid frame as the truck began to roll forward. There was a strange comfort in the way he held you, the familiar scent of him filling your senses. The fight had left you, replaced by a quiet acceptance, your earlier anger melting away as you rested your head against his shoulder.

The ride was wrapped in a comfortable silence, the kind that didn’t need to be filled with words. For some reason, being around Logan soothed you in a way that nothing else had for a long time. It was a feeling you’d longed for, a sense of security and warmth that you hadn’t realized how much you missed until now.

Even though you had your dad, it wasn’t the same. You were never really close with him. The glue that held your family together had always been your late mother, the one who bridged the gap between you and your father. But when she passed away from that illness when you were seventeen, everything changed. The dynamic between you and your dad became something different—just plain family.

He loved you, you knew that, but it was a love that felt distant, like an obligation rather than a connection. And you loved him back, but only just enough. There was a gap, a void left by your mother’s absence, that neither of you knew how to fill. You’d drifted apart, existing in the same space but not truly together.

But with Logan, it was different. Even in the quiet, even without saying a word, there was a comfort in his presence that made you feel like you weren’t so alone. The steady rhythm of his breathing, the warmth of his body against yours—it was like a balm to the aching loneliness you carried.

The warmth of your house greeted you as soon as you unlocked the front door, a comforting contrast to the cool night air outside. You stepped inside, the familiar scent of home wrapping around you like a blanket. With a tired sigh, you tossed the keys into the bowl on the console table, the clatter echoing in the quiet hallway. Without a word, you made your way upstairs, leaving Logan standing in the entryway, the silence between you stretching out once more.

Logan watched you disappear up the stairs, a heaviness settling over him. With a resigned sigh, he headed straight for the kitchen, his boots thudding softly against the hardwood floor. He grabbed a bottle of scotch from the cabinet, the glass container cold to the touch as he unscrewed the cap, pouring it down the glass.

Taking a generous sip, Logan flopped down onto your couch, the cushions sinking under his weight. The remote was within reach, and with a flick of his wrist, he turned on the TV. The soft glow of the screen filled the room, casting flickering shadows on the walls.

But even as the TV droned on in the background, Logan’s mind wasn’t on whatever was playing. He took another sip of his beer, letting the quiet comfort of your home settle around him, a stark contrast to the tension that had filled the night.

After slipping into more comfortable clothes, you hesitated at the top of the stairs, hoping that Logan was still there. The night had left you feeling unsettled, and the thought of him being gone added to the unease. Slowly, you made your way downstairs, the soft fabric of your clothes brushing against your skin, grounding you.

As you reached the living room, you cleared your throat, the sound breaking the stillness. Logan, who had been staring at the TV without really watching, turned his head towards you, his eyes meeting yours. There was a flicker of something in his gaze—concern, maybe relief—before he watched you walk towards him.

Without saying a word, you sat down on the couch beside him, the space between you feeling both intimate and vast. You looked at the glass of scotch in Logan’s hand, your curiosity piqued. “Can I try?” you asked, your voice soft but eager.

Logan glanced at the glass and then back at you. He simply handed it over without a word, his expression neutral. The amber liquid sloshed slightly as you took the glass from him. The warmth of the scotch felt foreign in your hand, but there was a sense of anticipation as you held it. Logan watched you silently, his gaze steady as you prepared to take your first sip.

You raised the glass to your lips, the rich, amber liquid catching the light. With a deep breath, you took your first sip. The taste was immediately intriguing—complex and smoky, with a hint of sweetness that lingered pleasantly on your tongue. It was unlike anything you’d ever had before, a unique blend of flavors that seemed to dance across your palate.

The warmth of the scotch spread from your mouth down your throat, a slow burn that settled into a comforting glow. You took another sip, savoring the taste, letting the sensation wash over you. The flavor was bold and sophisticated, a little bit of adventure in a glass.

“You like it?” Logan asked, raising one eyebrow and giving you a half-smile. His gaze was curious as he watched you take in the experience.

You folded your lips, glancing down at the glass before meeting his eyes again and nodding. “It’s not bad,” you admitted, a hint of a smile playing on your lips.

Logan chuckled, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Would you trade your life for this or for your peach soda?” he joked.

You giggled, the scotch giving you a carefree lightness. “Peach soda for the win,” you declared with a playful grin. But then, without hesitation, you raised the glass to your lips and chugged the rest of the liquor in one swift motion.

Logan watched with a mixture of amusement and surprise. “Says one who’d trade her life for the peach soda,” he remarked with a scoff, shaking his head in mock disbelief.

He grabbed the empty glass from your hand and, with a quick motion, poured another round for himself. The scotch swirled in the glass as he settled back onto the couch, the warmth of the liquor evident in his relaxed demeanor.

“I want one again,” you murmured, a pout forming on your lips as you looked at the empty glass.

Logan sighed, giving in with a resigned smile. “Fine, here,” he said, pouring another generous measure of scotch into the glass. But instead of reaching for the glass, you snatched the bottle right from his hand.

“Wha—hey whoa, Peach,” Logan started, surprised.

“I have my limits, don’t worry,” you replied with a mischievous glint in your eye.

Logan frowned, his hand reaching for the bottle. “Right, considering this is your first time and you like this more than your peach soda, I think that’s not a great idea. Come on, give me the bottle.”

With a shriek of playful defiance, you pushed yourself off the couch and stood in front of him, waving the bottle mockingly. “Watch me,” you smirked, lifting the bottle to your lips.

You took a generous sip, the rich warmth of the scotch flowing smoothly down your throat. Logan watched, amused. The newfound confidence in your actions only seemed to grow with each sip, the scotch emboldening you in ways you hadn’t anticipated.

As the minutes ticked by, you began to feel a subtle shift within you. The warmth from the scotch seemed to spread through your body, making you feel more alive, more fearless. It was as if the world outside had softened, the edges of your worries and reservations blurring into the background.

“Hmmm,” you hummed contentedly, taking a step closer to where Logan sat. With a playful glint in your eye, you placed the bottle on the coffee table and then gracefully straddled his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck.

Logan’s expression shifted subtly, his initial concern giving way to something more intimate. His eyes softened, the playful warmth of the moment casting a new light on his face. He adjusted his position slightly to accommodate you, his hands resting gently on your hips.

"I'm sorry for the way I acted tonight," you murmured, looking down to his lips before gazing up to his eyes. "Will you forgive me... Daddy?"

Logan looks at you surprised, he couldn't believe what he just heard. It's something he has never heard anyone addressed him with that before. The tension wasn't comforting it was rather more, sensual. Logan slowly leans forward inching closer to your face, he looks down to your lips before murmuring, "What did you just call me?"

You giggled, "Daddy." You repeated. "You're more like a dad to me than my dad ever was," you giggled. "The only difference is, I wanna fuck you." The scotch is now talking. "You were right, all those times you've caught me fucking myself with my fingers through my window, I wanted you to watch me," You stare at him with doe eyes. "And thank fuck, you watched me."

Logan groaned from listening to you talk like that. His hands gripping your hips, throwing his head back against the cushion. "You promised me you wanted me to feel your cock," you pouted, starting to move your hips, rubbing your clothed cunt against his denim jeans. Inching your face close to him, you whispered against his lips, "So give me your cock, Daddy."

Logan grumbled something under his breath, his gaze darkening as the playful tension between you ignited into something more intense. Without warning, his hand moved to your throat, not with force but with a possessive firmness that sent a shiver down your spine. In one swift motion, he pulled you in, crashing his lips against yours.

The kiss was searing, filled with the passion that had been simmering between you all night. His lips moved against yours with an urgency that took your breath away, the earlier tenderness giving way to something more primal. The heat of the moment enveloped you both, and you felt your heart race as the kiss deepened, becoming more feral and uncontrolled.

Logan’s hands tightened around your waist, pulling you closer as his mouth claimed yours with a hunger that made your head spin. The kiss became sloppy, desperate even, as the two of you lost yourselves in the intensity of the connection. You struggled to keep up, your breath hitching as you tried to match his pace, but it was overwhelming, intoxicating. The world around you seemed to blur, your senses consumed by the taste of him, the feel of his hands on your body, and the way his lips demanded everything from you.

You never stopped grinding your hips against his clothed cock as both of your lips were dancing with each other. The bulge in his jeans kept growing bigger and bigger until he decided it's finally enough to torture him; he broke the kiss and lift you up before his hands went to undo his jeans.

You watched the way he swiftly pulling down his jeans along with his boxers, his cock slapped against his abdomen. Shit, you thought. He's nowhere near small, he's big and fat. You wonder if it's going to fit in your small cunt and your small mouth. Logan noticed your demeanor has changed as he smirked to himself.

"Don't worry, Peach. I'll show you how." You looked at him confused. "You're gonna put my cock in your mouth first," You inhaled sharply before nodding your head, Logan smiled at you, happy that you're obeying to what he wants you to do. "Good girl, get on your knees."

Logan walked you through it, by telling you to grab his cock with both hands. "Give it a kiss." He urged, nudging his chin cockily. You hesitatingly kissed the raging red tip of his cock that has his already pre-cum leaking from the tiny slit. "Lick it, peach." He commanded, you obeyed. Dragging your warm tongue out from your mouth and made contact with the skin.

Logan watching you so innocently making out with his tip, makes his heart beat faster, eager to slide his cock down your throat and fuck your stupidly innocent face. "Thaaaat's good, peach. Put 'em all in your mouth." Before you do that, you fixated your gaze on Logan before moving away to inch your face close to his heavy balls.

You decided to improvise and see if he'd like that, Logan watches you intensely and groaned as you drag your tongue from the bottom of his cock upwards to meet his tip before putting him all in your mouth. Hollowing your cheeks, and teasingly rolled your eyes close to show that you're enjoying it so much. And it did sent Logan to heaven, watching his little peach enjoy sucking his girth.

"You like my cock, peaches? .... Yeah? .... Well come on, put them all in ya." Logan muttered as he raised his hip slowly upward, pushing his cock into your mouth further to reach your throat. When you gagged, Logan moaned. You thought that was a good sign, especially when you couldn't control your saliva as it drips down to his pubic hair and all. "Fffuck." Logan cursed watching you bob your head and up down his cock.

"Feels s'good.. Peach, god." Logan rolled his eyes and lean his head back, his hand rest on top of your head, fisting your hair. He grunted, "'want more." He murmured under his breath before he decided to take control. He bobbed your head up and down, increasing the speed while also thrusting his hips upward, fucking your throat.

"Fuck yeah, you better think twice before you talk back to me like that in the car." Logan grunted, watching you struggle to breathe, your eyes getting teary and choked on his cock. Logan laughs rather maniacally, watching you struggle turns him on even more.

"You wanna feel how it feels like to have a warm cum slides down your throat, peaches?" Your eyes widened. "Yeah.. I'll show you. 'M gonna cum soon, Oh.. So good, peach." Logan moaned, eyebrows scrunched together with his eyes closed.

Placing your palm on his thighs, you tried to at least breathe a little. You didn't want to pull away as you don't want you disappoint him. You can feel Logan's tip twitch in your mouth, you take it he's about to cum soon.

Without warning, Logan let out the loudest moan ever, spilling his warm cum down your throat. His hips stuttered a little, giving you one final thrust to make sure he emptied everything in your mouth. And you gladly took them all. As Logan pulls his cock out from your mouth, he watched you swallow his everything down your throat as he smirked in proud.

You watched him with your famous doe-eyes when you want something but Logan just laughed at you, mocking.

"You think after you pulled that stunt on the road you deserve my cock in your pussy? Hell fucking no, peach. At least not tonight, now get to bed."

thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed it! if you love my writing feel free to check my other works here

support me by buying me a coffee! 🤍

#Malavera #Logan and peach #Logan howlett smut #logan howlett #wolverine #wolverine smut #logan howlett x femalereader #logan howlett x you #logan x reader #logan howlett x reader #logan james howlett #james howlett #xmen wolverine #hugh jackman #hugh jackman smut

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teddybeartoji · 6 months ago

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18+ mdni; gn!reader

toji has an oral fixation.

oh, how he loves having his mouth on you. it's one of his favourite pasttimes; no matter whether it's making out and sucking on your tongue, or trailing his scarred lips over the side of your neck, pressing warm kisses against your jaw and pulse point like it's the only thing he knows. he loves having his mouth on your nipples, too. wrapping his lips around the sensitive bud and watch you arch into him while he plays with the other. he loves littering your chest with hickeys and he loves watching them bloom. his marks on you, from his mouth – it drives him wild. and last but not least – he loves giving you head. slobbering all over you, covering you in his saliva as he tries to devour you whole. feeling you cum on his tongue? absolutely nothing can compare to the sensation of that. nothing.

he loves the way you taste, he loves the way you sound, he loves the way you writhe under his burning touch. you're sweeter than anything else he's ever had and he simply can't get enough of you. he'll have you in every way he can, in every way you'll let him.

toji also loves sucking on your fingers.

of course, he'd be a little (read: very) ashamed to admit that out loud, but that doesn't mean he doesn't like it. there's just something so freeing in the way you let him melt into you, the way you don't tease him for wanting to let go. he wants to feel good, too. he wants to give up the power and just feel.

it is new to him though; you were always the one with his fingers in your mouth, so having the roles reversed, toji does feel a little small. in the best way possible.

having you on top of him, sitting perfectly on his stomach with your one hand firmly on his chest and the other caressing his face, toji can't help but feel himself twitch in his sweats. his mouth salivates at the sight of your cunning little smile and the twinkle in your eyes as you purr about how good he looks under you. he doesn't argue.

the tips of his ears burn and his adam's apple bobs, feeling your fingers tracing over the scar on his lips. his hands hold onto your waist like you're about to take flight, his strong grasp bruising your soft skin, making you let out a quiet moan. toji's hips buck upward and he watches your smile widen.

"open up, baby..."

your voice might also just kill him. it's sultry and still brimming with love, you're gentle and just a tad bit teasing – it's the perfect combination. toji's lips part without an objection, his mossy green eyes glued to yours as they do the same.

you push two fingers in and hum at the overwhelming warmth that envelops them immediately. toji's chest rumbles with a groan of his own at the way you run them over the sharp edges of his canines. leaving yourself a little closer to them, you place a kiss to his cheek while holding your fingers to his tongue, pressing it down as you slide them further into his mouth. toji holds back a gag and lets his eyes fall shut; your scent fills his nostrils and the way you're now nuzzling your face into his is not making any of this any less erotic.

finally toji's lips close properly around your fingers and he feels you smile against his skin. and then he feels your hips grinding ever-so-slightly on his stomach and now he really feels like he's losing his mind. you're all over him, but what gets him the most is that none of this is the usual 'sex stuff'. he's always been open to experimenting, he's willing to try just about anything you'd ever want to with a few eyelash flutters and a few pretty 'please's', but this? this is something else.

for starters, you're both still fully clothed. clad in your most basic pyjama, you're making him more turned on than he's ever been. and he's just so, so used to be the one in control, to be the one on the top – so submitting to you feels foreign, but so fucking good. you're making him discover things about himself that he never could've even dreamt about. him sucking on your fingers while you're humping his abs? oh, you'll kill him one day for sure.

but he's not complaining.

his tongue swivels around your two fingers as he begins to push and pull your hips to help you grind against him. you lick the side of his face, covering him in your saliva before pulling back just a little to look at him. below you, with your fingers in your mouth – he looks fucking extraordinary. you feel over the moon about the fact that he feels comfortable enough with you to let you have your way with him. you're utterly thankful for the glorious sight and you will most certainly reward him for it as well.

there's a soft squelch when toji hollows his cheeks and sucks on your digits. a sickeningly sweet coo spills from your lips and his eyes crack open; your gazes meet and you swear his whole body twitches under you. his hold on you gets tighter, his fingers sinking in deeper and you can't help but wonder how big of a mess he might be making in his sweats.

spit makes his lips glisten under the light emitting from the tv; shadows of the long forgotten movie dance on his skin, the whispers getting muffled by the sounds that he keeps making. he doesn't feel as embarrassed anymore, slowly succumbing to the hazy feeling in his head. he's addicted, he wants more and more and more.

and as if on cue, you force your fingers deeper down his throat once more, eyes set on the way his own roll right back into his head. his head dips forward, sinking into the pillow behind him and giving you the most beautiful view of his blooming neck. you're matching – he marks you up and you do the same. it's love.

pulling your fingers with a 'pop', a whine slips from toji but before he can really complain about it, you press your mouth to his. your lips smack together as you cradle his face with your spit-covered hand, tugging him closer and closer. his big arms wrap around your middle as he pulls you flush to him, moaning into your mouth when you decide to suck on his tongue in turn.

he can taste your desire, the need to make him feel good and to take care of him as you push yourself further into him. toji feels like he's about to explode. he wants to kiss, he wants to feel your fingers again, he wants to make you cum, he wants to make love to you.

hovering just above his face, you bring your hand back to his mouth and grant him his wish. he doesn't need to say it out loud, you know exactly what he wants and what he needs. slipping your index and your middle finger between his lips, you both groan at the feeling.

you give him a smile and butterflies bloom in his belly. you give him a peck while still having your fingers in your mouth and cum seeps through his sweats.

toji fushiguro is a weak, weak man and you have him wrapped around your pretty little fingers.

literally.

#shoutout to patrick from challengers iykyk #hehehehe>:3333 #toji #wtf mickey can write #toji x reader #toji x you #toji smut #toji drabble #toji fushiguro #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro x you #toji fushiguro smut #toji fushiguro drabble #jjk toji #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk drabble #jujutsu kaisen

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dollgxtz · 4 months ago

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His Watchful Eye Pt. 3

Word Count: 9k

Tags: yandere!sylus, sylus x fem!reader, noncon, dubcon, drugging, kidnapping, obedience training, mentions of suicide, forced breeding, forced pregnancy, stalking, pet names like kitten, sweetie, pretty, ownership, manipulation

Taglist: @ngh-ch-choso-ahhhh, @eliasxchocolate, @nozomiaj, @xmiisuki, @sylus-kitten, @its-regretti , @m0onlustre , @ve1vet-cake @letgobro @starkeysslvt, @yarafic, @prince-nikko, @leialmela

AN: It seems like these chapters just get longer and longer xDD. Hope yall don't mind! This is also on my A03 if you feel its too long to read on tumblr. Please heed the warnings and don't read this if you're sensitive to the subjects. Also! Reader has no specific skin tone, I just use images I think represent the chapter well, you can imagine her however you want! If you want to be added to the taglist please let me know, also please make sure your tumblr settings allow you to be tagged! <3

"I hate you," you whisper, your voice barely audible, muffled by his chest. The words come out broken, hollow, lacking the fire they once carried. But it’s all you can manage, the last flicker of resistance in a sea of overwhelming fatigue. "I know," Sylus replies, his voice soft and almost indulgent, as though your hatred is just another part of the game to him. He holds you tighter, his hand continuing to caress your hair. "But it doesn’t matter, sweetie. You’re mine now. Hate me all you want, I’ll still take care of you."

Read Pt 1, Pt 2, Pt 4

You ease yourself into the bath, the water just a touch hotter than you'd like, enveloping your skin in a near-burning sensation. It’s almost too much, the heat prickling at your body, but you stay still, letting the warmth slowly settle around you. Steam rises in soft, curling tendrils, and you can feel the tension in your muscles begin to release, even as the heat clings to you, almost suffocating in its intensity. Your breath catches for a moment, but soon you adjust, your body reluctantly surrendering to the soothing, yet overwhelming, embrace of the water.

Despite the searing heat, you slowly begin to lose yourself in thought. When was the last time you'd allowed yourself to truly relax since this whole nightmare began? As much as you hated to admit it, the water felt good—comforting even—offering a fleeting sense of escape. For once, your worries seemed to dissolve into the bathwater, sinking like stones to the bottom. No thoughts of impending doom, no fear lurking at the edges of your mind. Just you, the gentle bubbles, and the soft, soothing scent of cherry shampoo drifting in the steam.

And no Sylus.

Your face twists into a scowl at the very thought of him. No. This was supposed to be your time, a moment for yourself. You can’t let him invade this too. Don’t think about him, you urge yourself. Focus on the bath. Focus on the warmth. Desperate to banish any trace of him from your mind, you sink lower into the water, leaving only your nose and eyes above the surface, your breath shallow as you try to disappear beneath the heat.

But it doesn’t work. His presence lingers in your thoughts like a shadow you can't shake—the memory of his touch, his voice, the sickly sweet promises he’d whisper after those twisted "sessions."

Before you can stop yourself, you plunge fully beneath the water, submerging yourself entirely, as if you could drown his memory along with your thoughts—perhaps even drown yourself if that’s what it takes to make it all stop.

The deafening roar of water fills your ears, muffling the world around you. Instinct keeps your breath held tight, but a dark thought persisted—what would happen if you really… let go? Sylus has made it clear he has no intention of releasing you. Maybe this, right here, is your only way out.

A tightness coils in your chest as your body begins its primal fight for air. The burning need to breathe claws at your lungs, but there’s no panic—just a calm, almost eerie resolve. Slowly, deliberately, you part your lips, ready to let the water rush in. This is it. Your escape. The only freedom Sylus can't take from you.

Death.

You wonder what kind of face he would make when he would discover your barely warm body bobbing in the bath water, having escaped the clutches of his captivity in a way he could not undo.

You wished you'd be around to see it.

Just as the warm sensation of water touches the back of your throat, a sharp tingling prickles across your scalp. A second later, you're violently yanked from the water, gasping for air as the bathroom floods back into focus. You blink wildly, clearing the stinging bathwater from your eyes, only to be met by a familiar face.

"Why willingly subject yourself to waterboarding?" Sylus asks, his tone laced with disappointment, as if you’ve failed some unspoken test. You glare at him angrily, grabbing at the grip he has on your hair.

"Don't tell me I'll have to supervise your baths too?"

"Let go!" you shout, clawing at his fingers, desperately trying to free your hair from his grip. To your surprise, he does, and you quickly retreat to the far edge of the tub, pressing your back against the cool porcelain. Water clings to your skin, dripping down your face as you try to steady your breath. His eyes roam over you, calculating, as if taking in every detail. Suddenly self conscious of your naked figure, you hug your arms around your breasts. You notice, for the first time, the shopping bags dangling from his other hand. He sets them down with unnerving care before casually crossing the bathroom to grab a stool.

You watch warily as he pulls it up beside the tub, seating himself directly across from you, his eyes never leaving your face.

"I wasn’t trying to kill myself," you snap, your voice sharp as you avoid his gaze. "I’d rather not give you more reasons to watch me."

Sylus chuckles softly, clearly unfazed by your defiance, as if your words barely register. Without another glance at you, he begins rummaging through the bags at his feet, his movements methodical and unhurried. After a moment, he pulls out a small white box, and you narrow your eyes, watching as he carefully peels away the packaging. Something small and silver tumbles into his palm, catching the light.

"Nail clippers?" you ask, disbelief creeping into your voice.

He nods, then casually tugs down the collar of his shirt, revealing the jagged red scratches you had raked across his skin during the last time he had forced himself on you. The sight of them makes you smirk—small, uneven lines, but they’re there, vivid reminders that you hadn’t gone down without a fight. You can almost feel your nails digging into him again, that brief moment of satisfaction before he'd pinned you, your resistance crushed beneath his weight.

"The first step in taming an angry kitten," he muses with a grin, "is taking her claws." His voice is disturbingly light, almost playful, as he reaches out toward you.

You hesitate, staring at his outstretched hand. Your instincts scream at you to pull away, but what choice do you have? Reluctantly, you slip your hand into his, your fingers trembling ever so slightly as he curls his hand around yours. His grip is firm but not harsh, his skin warm against your own, the casual dominance in his touch making your stomach churn. He watches you closely, his gaze never wavering, as if daring you to resist.

"Isn't that called declawing?" you mutter bitterly, trying to keep your voice steady as you avert your eyes. You watch instead as he presses the clippers to your nails, the metal cool against your fingertips. The soft snip of each nail being cut echoes in the quiet bathroom, a steady, unnerving rhythm.

Sylus smirks, tilting his head as he replies, "Oh?" His tone is amused, almost mocking. "Would you rather I pull them out instead?" His voice remains calm, and you're unsure if he's joking or not.

You swallow hard, feeling the weight of his words settle over you. Each clip of the clippers feels more invasive than the last, stripping away not just your nails, but a part of yourself—your small weapon of defiance.

It struck you as odd. Just yesterday, the two of you had been locked in a bitter struggle on his bed—panting, groaning, bodies slick with sweat, fighting for entirely different goals. For him, dominance. For you, escape. And now here he was, calmly and methodically clipping your nails, the act almost tender, as if you were lovers sharing an intimate moment.

Neither of you speaks until he finishes. Sylus turns your hands over slowly, inspecting his work with the same detached precision, ensuring he’s clipped them short enough. Finally satisfied, he releases your hand, letting the clippers fall from his grasp with a metallic clatter against the bathroom floor. You frown down at the newly cut length of your nails, feeling stripped of yet another small defense.

Before you can dwell on the thought, he leans over the bath, his face inching dangerously close to yours. There's hardly any space to retreat, and you’re forced to face him, your breath catching in your throat as his presence looms over you. His lips find the soft skin of your neck, leaving light, deliberate kisses that send a shiver of tension through your body.

Sensing your stiffness, he chuckles under his breath, the sound low and familiar, before cupping your face in his hand. His fingers are firm, cradling your jaw with unnerving gentleness.

"Relax..." he whispers, brushing his lips against yours in a soft, almost teasing kiss. "I won’t do anything now. Didn’t I promise you a break?"

His words echo in your mind, bringing with them the memory of his promise from this morning. Instead of threatening you for obedience, he’d dangled a twisted form of kindness—a reward, rather than punishment. A carrot, not a stick.

Promising that if you didn't put up a fight this morning, that would be the only time he would be inside you that day.

You would have been an idiot to refuse such an offer. Almost daily assaults had left you feeling sore and exhausted. Sure, you knew he was offering you crumbs of kindness as a way to train you into obedience but you were much stronger than that. He wouldn't break you so easily.

You simply hummed and nodded in agreement, giving him a small kiss back. You had come to learn that the quicker you returned his affection, the sooner he would relent. It worked, as he almost immediately smiled and leaned back on the stool. He suddenly reaches is arm up and looks at the watch on his wrist.

"Come on out. I bought a few things for you, sweetie," Sylus says softly, his eyes drifting back to your still-exposed body. You tense instinctively, sinking lower into the water as if it could shield you from his gaze. His words may be gentle, but the weight of his attention feels oppressive, suffocating.

Sensing your discomfort, he lets out a quiet laugh. "I’ll turn around. Just don’t try drowning yourself again," he chuckles, as though reading your mind. True to his word, he turns his back to you, but the tension in the room remains thick, your heart pounding in your chest. You wish, more than anything, that he would just leave, give you a moment of peace, but you know better than to ask.

With a deep breath, you grip the edge of the tub, steadying yourself as you rise from the water. The cool air hits your skin, a stark contrast to the heat of the bath, and your wet feet make a quiet slap against the cold tile as you step out. Quickly, you reach for the white towel resting on the sink and begin to dry yourself, moving with an urgency spurred by your skepticism that Sylus will stay turned away for long.

As you dry yourself, you notice something unexpected—when you reach between your legs, your hand freezes. A slight gasp escapes your lips as you spot it: crimson streaks, trailing down your inner thigh. For a moment, you stare in disbelief, watching the droplets of blood slowly slide down your leg. Then, reality hits, and you frantically press the towel to your skin, catching the blood before it can reach the floor.

"What's wrong?" Sylus asks, his voice suddenly alert as he turns his head, catching your gasp. His eyes lock onto the bloodstained towel, his posture shifting as he steps toward you, concern etched across his face. "Are you hurt?"

You swallow hard, a strange mixture of emotions flooding through you. "My period..." you say softly, almost under your breath, but then, a smile creeps onto your face, one you can't suppress.

Relief crashes over you like a tidal wave. You’ve never been so happy to see blood in your life.

You aren’t pregnant. You aren’t pregnant.

Your mind races, the implications still sinking in. It’s not over, but for now, you’re safe. Your hands shake as you pull your gaze from the red stain, your breath coming in short, shaky bursts. Then, a creeping awareness settles in—you aren’t alone.

Sylus is standing behind you. You feel his presence before you see him, the weight of his silence pressing against you. You quickly wipe the smile from your face, the relief vanishing as you turn slowly to face him.

"My period... it’s just my period," you whisper, your voice trembling, barely able to hold steady. You try to read his face, desperate for any sign of how he’s reacting. His expression shifts—concern morphs into a frown, and then... nothing. His face goes blank, like a mask slipping into place. You search frantically for any flicker of emotion—anger, frustration, relief—but it’s as though he’s walled himself off, unreachable.

Was he angry? Disappointed? You couldn’t tell, and that terrified you. Your stomach twists in knots, anxiety bubbling up again. The relief you felt moments ago is quickly replaced by a new dread. One disaster averted, but what now?

"Right," he says calmly, his voice devoid of any warmth, as though this is just another mundane detail in his well-controlled world. He reaches for the bloodied towel in your hands, his movements smooth and deliberate, like nothing about this situation surprises him. "Don’t worry about this. Just finish dressing."

He leans down, pulling open the cabinet under the sink. Your heart skips a beat as he sets several packages of pads and tampons on the counter, each one the exact brand and size you regularly use. A cold chill runs down your spine. How long had he been watching you before bringing you here? How much does he already know? The intimate knowledge of your life, right down to your feminine products, feels like another layer of control—a calculated invasion disguised as care.

"If you don’t want to use these, I’ll have Luke and Kieran get different ones," he says, his tone disturbingly casual, as though this conversation is perfectly normal.

Your throat tightens. "No, these are fine... thank you."

He gives a slight nod, but it’s mechanical, his face still unreadable, and he turns to leave, collecting the rest of your discarded clothes from the bathroom floor. His steps are quick but unhurried, a man always in control of his actions, of everything around him. He leaves you standing there, shaken, and once again, you feel small under his gaze. Whatever he’s feeling, he’s locked it away. You’ll never know unless he decides to let you.

The door closes behind him, and you’re left alone with your thoughts—and the creeping realization that you may never be truly alone again.

After gathering enough courage to leave the bathroom, you cautiously crack open the bedroom door. You peer out, spotting Sylus lounging on the leather sofa, his eyes glued to his phone. His posture is relaxed, casual, as if nothing unusual has happened. But the moment you step into the room, he looks up—his gaze sharp, as though he’s been waiting for you.

"Took you long enough," he says, a smirk playing at his lips, amusement evident in his voice. The cold, distant air he had in the bathroom has vanished, replaced with the easy confidence you’ve come to expect. He’s back to being the Sylus you recognize, the one who shifts between charm and control like flipping a switch.

You force a smile, trying to match his casual tone. "Yeah, well, drowning myself was starting to seem tempting again," you quip, keeping your voice light. You move past him toward the bed, wanting nothing more than to put some distance between the two of you. But before you can get far, his hand shoots out, wrapping around your wrist with a gentle but firm grip. The sudden contact sends a jolt through you, freezing you in place.

His touch isn’t rough, but there’s something in it that holds you captive, a subtle reminder of the power he holds. You glance down at his hand, then back up at him, unsure whether to pull away or let him guide the moment.

"Are you hungry?" he asks, his voice soft now, almost concerned. But the question hangs in the air, heavier than it should be.

"Oh! Uh... yeah?" you stammer, your voice barely above a whisper. As much as you wanted to ignore him and crawl into bed, the thought of food was too tempting to resist. Sylus stands, his grip on your wrist still firm, tugging you toward the bedroom door.

Your heart skips a beat as you watch him press his finger against the scanner beside the door. Why is he letting you this close? The lock hums and with a soft click, the door swings open. You stare at it, a thousand questions racing through your mind.

He turns back to you, his playful demeanor from moments ago evaporating in an instant, replaced by something darker, colder. His eyes lock onto yours, and suddenly, the atmosphere feels suffocating.

"Behave," he says, his voice low and serious. "Don’t wander off without me, and if you try anything... you won’t leave this room or the bed for weeks. Understood?"

The threat in his words chills you to your core. You're frozen in place, trying to process what’s happening. Is this real? Are you dreaming? Why now? The door stands open before you, a symbol of freedom, but it feels more like a trap, a carefully laid test. The air between you crackles with tension. One wrong move, and you know there will be consequences.

You shake your head quickly, pushing aside any fleeting thoughts of rebellion. Not now. Not yet.

Trying to break the moment, you turn your gaze toward the unopened bags still sitting in the corner of the room. "Didn’t you say you bought me some stuff?" you ask, your voice tentative, eyes flicking toward the bags. "I’m curious about what’s in them."

Anything to steer the conversation away from the potential threat.

"It’s okay, you can look at them later" Sylus says, his voice smooth and reassuring as he swings the door open wider. The invitation seems casual, but there’s something unsettling about how easily he offers it. His hand loosens slightly around your wrist, though he doesn’t let go completely, as if to remind you that the freedom he's offering has limits.

Your eyes flick from the open door to his face, searching for any hint of what’s really going on. His expression is calm, almost too calm, as if he’s in complete control of the situation, confident that you won’t dare make a move without his permission. The open door, the promise of something beyond this room, suddenly feels less like an escape and more like a stage he's set for you.

Every instinct in your body screams that this isn’t as simple as it looks. It’s a test, another subtle power play to remind you where you stand. The reassurance in his voice only deepens the pit in your stomach. He’s letting you out, but on his terms.

You force a nod, trying to swallow the growing unease. "Okay," you murmur, though the word feels foreign in your mouth, like you’re agreeing to something you don’t fully understand.

Sylus smiles—a small, practiced curve of his lips, but his eyes remain unreadable. He steps aside, making room for you to pass, yet the tension in the air doesn’t dissipate. It lingers, wrapping itself around you like a noose tightening with every step you take toward the door.

As you step cautiously past the threshold, the hallway beyond the door reveals a world of striking opulence. The air feels cooler, heavier, carrying the scent of leather and polished stone. Beneath your bare feet, the floor is a dark, sleek tile, almost black, with a high gloss that catches the low light and reflects distorted, shadowy images of the surroundings. Each step echoes slightly, the subtle tap of your feet magnified by the smooth surface, giving the space a cavernous, eerie quality.

The walls are a deep, charcoal black, lined with intricately carved molding that runs up to the high, coffered ceilings. Elegant sconces along the walls cast pools of soft, amber light, their glow bouncing off the glossy tiles, adding an extra layer of depth to the room. The lighting is deliberately dim, creating an atmosphere of perpetual twilight, where shadows stretch and warp across the dark floor, leaving certain corners cloaked in deeper darkness.

To your left, a grand staircase spirals down, its wrought iron railings twisting in elaborate, almost gothic designs. The banister is polished ebony, gleaming faintly in the soft light, while the steps are lined with a deep, crimson runner that stands in stark contrast to the black tiles, offering a rare touch of softness amid the cold, hard surfaces. The staircase seems to descend endlessly, vanishing into shadows that hint at more hidden secrets below.

Expensive art lines the walls—large, dark oil paintings that seem impossibly old, their subjects watching with melancholy or judgment. The frames are thick, gilded with gold, though their luster is muted with age. Between the paintings, mirrors with heavy, ornate frames reflect fragments of the space, but never enough to give you a full view—only glimpses, distorted by the interplay of light and shadow.

Despite the mansions undeniable beauty, there’s a coldness that seeps through the dark tile, a chill that seems to rise from the floor itself. Every detail, from the smooth tile to the velvet drapes, feels curated and perfect, yet it lacks any warmth or comfort. The space feels like a cage disguised in luxury—beautiful, yes, but suffocating in its grandiosity.

"Kitchen is downstairs" Sylus says, nodding in their direction. You quietly make a mental note of everything as you descend. This is your chance to map out the house, make a potential escape route. Even if Sylus was close behind, you shouldn't waste this opportunity gawking at everything. So he's filthy rich, so what?

Your eyes flit from the deep shadows that pool in the corners of the hall to the heavy drapery that conceals what’s outside. Every window, every door, every hallway could be a potential escape route if you ever get the chance. You tell yourself to remember where they are, how the house is laid out. A plan begins to form in the back of your mind, hazy but determined. One way or another, you’ll need to know this place inside and out.

Each step down the staircase feels like a test, a countdown of sorts. The further you go, the deeper you descend into Sylus’s world. The weight of his gaze makes it hard to breathe, but you know you can’t falter now. You keep your pace steady, your face expressionless, pretending that this is just a simple walk down the stairs, but inside, your thoughts race. Every second counts, and you’re not going to let this moment slip away unnoticed.

The rich, savory smell of roasted chicken invades your senses as you reach the last step, filling the air with an unexpected warmth. The faint crackle of fire and the clattering of pans echo from the nearby kitchen, the sounds weaving into the dark, quiet luxury of the house. It’s a stark contrast to the cold, empty grandeur surrounding you—this small slice of normalcy, of life. But the moment feels fragile, like it could break at any second.

Your foot barely touches the last step when Sylus’s hands clamp down on your shoulders. The sudden contact sends a jolt of fear through your body, your heart lurching as you instinctively jump.

"You’re jumpy," he says softly, his voice smooth but carrying a hint of amusement, as though your fear is entertaining to him. The warmth of the kitchen clashes with the cold tension between you, and the contrast makes the moment feel surreal.

Sylus guides you away from the comforting noises of the kitchen, leading you into a room that exudes the same dark, expensive elegance as the rest of the house. The atmosphere shifts as you step into the space—less intimate, more like a showpiece designed to impress rather than to live in. It’s reminiscent of a living room, though everything feels just a little too perfect, too polished.

Your eyes widen as a massive flatscreen TV comes into view, its size nearly absurd against the backdrop of rich, dark wood paneling and plush furniture. "Huh? I didn’t know they made TVs this big..." you whisper, the words slipping out before you can stop them. The screen is so large, it feels more like a home theater than a living room—something you’d only expect to see in movies or magazines. While the Hunter's Association paid you well, this level of luxury was foreign to you, something you'd never even considered owning.

Sylus follows your gaze to the screen, his expression unreadable. "Is something wrong with it? Too big? I can have it downsized," he offers casually, though his eyes search yours intently, as if he’s genuinely concerned about your comfort. His suggestion catches you off guard, and you cock your head in confusion. Why would he even suggest such a thing?

"No! It’s fine," you say quickly, shaking your head, still baffled by his willingness to adjust even something so extravagant for you. "I’ve just never seen one this huge."

Sylus nods, seemingly satisfied with your response, and motions toward the sofa. "Sit," he says, his tone soft but commanding. The sofa is deep, covered in smooth leather, and it practically swallows you when you lower yourself onto it.

He wastes no time sitting next to you, checking his watch again. You fiddle nervously beside him, feeling out of place in such a space. First he lets you out of his room for the very first time in weeks, and now the both of you are sitting on the couch casually as if this was routine.

You desperately wished you could tell what he was thinking.

"Chef should be done in a few minutes" Sylus said, interrupting your anxious thoughts. He tenderly intertwines his fingers with yours, lifting your hand up to press a soft kiss against your knuckles. His gaze is unwavering as he looks at you.

Your gaze shifts, briefly breaking away from his piercing eyes, and lands on a shelf in the corner of the room behind him. Something there catches your attention—an old, meticulously cared-for record player. Its polished surface gleams in the low light, a relic of a different time. It’s beautiful in its simplicity, standing out against the modern opulence surrounding it. You wonder briefly about its significance. Why something so old in a house filled with the latest luxuries?

But the question fades as Sylus’s thumb gently strokes your hand, pulling your focus back to him. He's being tender right now, and feeling bold, you start talking.

"I didn't think the leader of Onychinus would live in such a grand place" you say calmly, eyeing his reaction. Instead of anger of irritation, he simply smiles as if he already realized you had figured out his identity.

"Oh? What were you thinking then?"

"Well...I figured you would be in hiding" you say plainly, gritting your teeth a bit. "This place is pretty easy to spot. Lots of hiding places too."

Sylus chuckles as if you just told him something funny. "Sweetie nothing gets in or out of this place without me knowing, that's hardly a worry"

You mentally curse yourself. Of course he has cameras. Why wouldn’t he? A man like Sylus would never leave anything to chance, especially not in a place like this. Escaping wouldn’t be as simple as memorizing the layout of the house. You’d have to make it past the cameras, the eyes constantly watching, recording every move. The realization makes your stomach sink. Even your thoughts of escape feel smaller, less attainable now.

The air grows thick with the scent of steam and roasted chicken as a figure appears around the corner. The chef, an older man with deep-set lines in his face, moves with quiet precision. He says nothing as he places an exquisite spread of chicken and side dishes on the table in front of you. Everything looks impossibly perfect—the golden-brown skin of the chicken, the vibrant vegetables, the delicately arranged plates. It’s the kind of meal you might see in a restaurant you could never afford, yet it feels out of place here, too refined and elegant for the suffocating tension in the room.

The chef doesn’t speak, not a word, but he gives a small nod in Sylus’s direction before quietly retreating from the room. His presence, brief and silent, only adds to the strange, controlled atmosphere. You find yourself wondering if he knows—if he’s aware of the twisted dynamic at play here—or if he’s just another piece of the puzzle that makes up Sylus’s meticulously crafted world.

For a moment, you think about the cameras again. They’re watching, just like Sylus. Always watching. You force yourself to focus on the meal, trying not to give away the panic bubbling beneath your calm exterior. You smile faintly, but your mind races with the next hurdle: it’s not just about getting out of the house, it’s about getting out unseen.

Sylus glances at you, his hand still resting on yours. "Eat," he says softly, his voice smooth but with an edge of command beneath it. The invitation sounds pleasant, but you know better. This isn’t a request.

You nod, swallowing hard, a knot of anxiety tightening in your throat. You start with the green beans, methodically chewing, your mind already strategizing. Green beans—protein and energy for running. Every bite, every move from here on out has to be deliberate, with purpose. Escaping this place was never going to be easy, but now it feels even more impossible. Still, you cling to the idea that preparation is key. You’ll need your strength for when the time comes.

As you chew, you glance at Sylus and notice something unsettling. He hasn’t touched his plate. His gaze is fixed on you, watching, as if he’s waiting for something. The unease that had been simmering beneath the surface now starts to bubble up. You meet his eyes, silently questioning why he’s not eating. He smiles tenderly.

"I’ll be tracking your ovulation window from now on," he says casually, as though he were discussing the weather. "Since you’ve gotten your first period since staying here, now would be a good time to start."

The words hit you like ice water, chilling you to the core. You freeze, your fork halting mid-air as the meaning of what he said sinks in. The casualness of his tone, the way he drops such a personal, invasive statement into the conversation as if it’s nothing, leaves you reeling. He’s watching you, gauging your reaction, his smile lingering in the same unsettling way.

The room, with all its lavish furnishings and exquisite food, suddenly feels more like a cage than ever. It’s not just about being physically trapped anymore—it’s the knowledge that even your body is under his control. He’s tracking you, monitoring the most intimate parts of your life. Any illusion of autonomy shatters, leaving only the cold reality of how deeply he intends to dominate every aspect of your existence.

You force yourself to swallow the bite in your mouth, your heart pounding in your chest. Stay calm, you tell yourself. Don’t react. Not yet.

"That won't guarantee a baby" you retort, trying your best to hide a scowl. You know you’re pushing him, testing the boundaries, but the words slip out before you can stop them. The shift in his expression is immediate. The amusement that once danced in his eyes evaporates, replaced by something darker, more calculated.

His face contorts into a deep frown, the muscles in his jaw tightening as he processes your defiance. For a moment, he says nothing, and the air between you feels charged, thick with unspoken tension.

"Maybe not the first time," he starts slowly, his voice dropping a notch, finally picking up his own fork. His tone is calm, but there’s a cold edge to it, like he’s already several steps ahead in whatever twisted game he’s playing. "Or the second time."

He takes a deliberate bite, chewing slowly, his eyes never leaving yours, as if daring you to interrupt. After what feels like an eternity, he swallows and leans back against the sofa, his gaze sharp and unrelenting.

"But it will eventually."

The words hang in the air, a dark promise. His voice is measured, controlled, but beneath the surface, you can feel the underlying threat. Sylus isn’t just talking about biology; he’s making it clear that he will keep trying, over and over again, until he gets what he wants. The casual way he says it, as if it’s inevitable, sends a shiver down your spine.

The words settle in your mind, their dark implications unfurling like a slow, creeping poison. You can’t take it anymore—the calm, the control, the endless power games. Something inside you snaps. The fear, the careful restraint you’ve held onto for weeks, crumbles all at once. Before you can stop yourself, you slam your fist down onto the table, the sharp clatter of silverware echoing through the room.

"Do you even hear yourself?" you shout, your voice shaking with rage. "You think this is some sick game? You can’t just… you can’t control my body like that! You can't just—" Your voice breaks, the dam of emotions bursting wide open. "You think you can force this? That you can just keep me here, like I’m some… some breeding stock? Like I don’t have a say in my own life?"

Your breath comes in short, ragged bursts, your heart pounding in your ears. The words are spilling out now, unstoppable. "You think tracking my ovulation, making your plans—doing whatever sick family fantasy thing you have in mind—is going to work? You have no right! No right to decide what happens to me, no right to decide my future for your delusions!"

Sylus's fork clatters back onto his plate, his face blank at first, but the tension in the air is palpable. He doesn’t interrupt, just watches as you lose control, like he’s waiting for something—maybe for you to exhaust yourself, maybe for you to break down entirely. But you don’t care anymore.

"You’re insane!" you spit, your voice cracking as the emotions surge, unstoppable now. "This whole place—this whole twisted world of yours—it’s a prison. Do you even get that? It doesn’t matter how much money you throw at it, how many things you control, it’ll never make you anything but a monster!"

The words hang in the air, trembling with the rawness of your outburst. Your chest heaves, your hands shaking uncontrollably. You’re on the verge of tears, but you refuse to let them fall. Not in front of him. Not now.

"I'll kill myself before any child of yours ever calls me mom" you say, your words ringing through the still and quiet mansion.

Sylus’s expression shifts, the mask of calm slipping ever so slightly. His eyes narrow, and his lips press into a thin, tight line. For a moment, the room feels like it’s holding its breath. Then, as if something in him cracks open, he smiles. A slow, unnerving grin spreads across his face, the darkness in his eyes momentarily replaced by something even more disturbing—amusement.

You stare at him, dumbfounded, trying to process the sudden shift in his demeanor. The anger you had expected never comes. Instead, a low chuckle rumbles from his chest, growing louder, filling the room with an eerie echo that makes your skin crawl.

"Are you done with your little tantrum, kitten?" he coos, his voice dripping with condescension. The way he says "kitten" sends a shiver down your spine, the pet name laced with eerie sweetness. Without warning, he reaches out, gripping your wrist with an unsettling gentleness, pulling you toward him with ease.

Before you can react, he yanks you down onto his lap, forcing you to straddle him. Your body stiffens, the weight of him beneath you both unsettling and humiliating. You feel trapped, like prey ensnared in a hunter’s grasp. His arm wraps around your waist, locking you in place. You try to pull away, but his hold is unyielding.

"Poor thing," he murmurs, his voice soft but taunting as his fingers trail lazily up your back, "you’re just a little ball of anger, aren’t you?" His smile widens as his hand slides into your hair, gently tugging it, controlling even the smallest movements. You feel the tension in your body spike, but any resistance you try to muster is immediately swallowed by the cold reality of his control.

"You know," he continues, his tone light, almost playful, as if you weren’t just screaming at him moments ago, "I could let you keep fighting me. Let you wear yourself out like a kitten clawing at something it can’t catch." He chuckles again, his fingers tightening in your hair, forcing your head to tilt just enough so that you have no choice but to meet his gaze. His eyes, dark and unreadable, lock onto yours with a frightening intensity.

"But we both know how this ends, don’t we?" he whispers, his voice dropping into something dangerously low. His smile never fades, but the amusement in his eyes sharpens into something cruel. "You’ll tire yourself out. You always do."

A whimper escapes your lips as his grip tightens in your hair, the pressure mounting to the point where it’s impossible to hold back any longer. The tears you’ve fought so desperately to contain now spill freely, streaking down your cheeks. Your body trembles as the emotional dam breaks, the fear, frustration, and helplessness flooding out all at once.

Sylus notices. His expression shifts, softening in a way that feels strange. The cruel amusement that once gleamed in his eyes fades, replaced by something disturbingly gentle. He loosens his grip on your hair, letting his fingers glide down to your cheek. His thumb brushes away the hot tears, wiping them tenderly.

"Don’t cry pretty girl," he murmurs, his voice a quiet coo. The gentleness in his tone feels like a strange juxtaposition to the fear still gripping your chest. His other hand slides down to cradle your face, keeping you close, but no longer with the same force. "It’s okay. I promised I’d take care of you, didn’t I?"

He presses soft kisses on your lips as they tremble and you just let him, the weight of the situation crashing on you. "Just take my cum and have my baby, I'll take care of everything else. Doesn't that sound easy?"

You jerk your head away from him at the mere thought of him impregnating you.

He turns your head back towards him, his lips pressing a soft kiss against your tear-streaked cheek, the touch almost reverent. The sensation makes your skin crawl, the tenderness a cruel mockery of the power he so clearly holds over you. You want to pull away, but his hands keep you there, gently holding you in place as if to soothe the very tears he caused.

His lips move to your hand, kissing your tear-stained fist, as though he’s trying to console you after making you break down. The gesture feels wrong, every soft touch an extension of his control masquerading as care. He’s not only comforting you out of kindness and love but he’s reminding you that even your pain belongs to him, that he can take you to the brink of despair and then pull you back whenever he pleases.

"You can scream, you can break my things, you can throw tantrums, but in the end..." His voice lowers, chillingly calm. "You’re still mine. You still belong to me. Your anger? It’s nothing. It won’t change anything."

The room feels smaller now, his words wrapping around you like a vice, tightening with every breath. You can’t breathe, can’t think, the weight of the situation crashing down on you all over again.

"And as for your outburst..." he says, his lips curling into a faint smile. "It will have consequences."

Your body trembles as his thumb brushes away another tear, his touch tender, almost soothing. And despite the revulsion that twists in your stomach, despite every fiber of your being screaming at you to push him away, you don’t.

You can’t.

You’re just so exhausted.

Without even realizing it, you lean into him, your body betraying your mind. The weight of your exhaustion is unbearable, and the fight you’ve held onto for so long begins to slip through your fingers like sand. Your head rests against his chest, the steady rise and fall of his breathing providing a sick sort of comfort that you hate yourself for needing.

He holds you gently, his arm wrapping around your waist, securing you against him as though he’s protecting you. The irony is suffocating. This man, who has twisted your world into a living nightmare, is now the one offering you comfort. And as much as you despise him for it, for the control he wields over you, you sink deeper into his embrace, desperate for the warmth and the momentary relief from your own anguish.

"There you go," he murmurs softly, his fingers stroking your hair in long, calming motions. "See? It’s not so bad, is it?"

The words cut, each one a reminder of the power he holds over you, but you’re too drained to care anymore. The anger, the defiance, the hatred—it’s all still there, burning under the surface, but right now, the only thing you can feel is the weight of your own exhaustion pulling you down, dragging you into a state of reluctant surrender.

"I know," Sylus replies, his voice soft and almost indulgent, as though your hatred is just another part of the game to him. He holds you tighter, his hand continuing to caress your hair.

"But it doesn’t matter, sweetie. You’re mine now. Hate me all you want, I’ll still take care of you."

You hate him for saying it. You hate him for making you feel like you need him. But in this moment, you’re too tired to fight him. You allow yourself to collapse into the illusion of safety, just for a little while, even though you know it’s a trap.

You wake to the sensation of being moved, cradled like you’re something fragile. It’s disorienting at first, and for a brief, blissful moment, you don’t remember where you are. But then the cold reality slams into you.

Sylus.

Your eyes flicker open, and through the haze of sleep, you realize he’s carrying you. His arms are steady, but the feel of his hold sends a chill down your spine. You try to shake off the drowsiness, to push yourself upright, but your limbs feel weak and uncooperative.

"Shh," he whispers, his voice gentle, though it only makes the situation worse. "Go back to sleep. You’re safe."

Safe. The word rings hollow in your mind. You know better. Even though his touch is soft and careful, even though his voice is low and comforting, you know exactly where you are—exactly who holds you.

Your heart sinks as you hear the faint whirr of a door opening. He’s taking you back to the room, the one where you’ve spent so many weeks locked away, trapped. A lump forms in your throat as you realize what’s happening, but you’re too weak to fight it. You had a brief taste of freedom, even if it was a twisted version of it, but now he’s putting you back in your cage.

Sylus steps into his room, the dim light casting long shadows over the dark, lavish space. He moves with deliberate care, like he’s handling something precious, lowering you onto the bed with a gentleness that feels grotesque in its contrast to what he’s actually doing.

Your body sinks into the mattress, your limbs too heavy to lift. You manage a weak protest, a soft whimper of resistance, but he shushes you again, his hand brushing the side of your face with infuriating tenderness.

"Sleep, kitten. You need your rest."

He moves to the door, and you hear the unmistakable sound of the lock. The finality of it sends a fresh wave of despair through you. You’re back in the same room, the same prison, despite the moments of fragile comfort you had shared. It all meant nothing. You’re still his prisoner.

You turn your face into the pillow, tears pricking at your eyes once more, but you’re too drained to cry again. Your body aches, your mind is foggy, and sleep still tugs at you, relentless in its pull. You hate that you find any sense of comfort in the bed, in the quiet, but there’s no fight left in you tonight.

With the sound of the lock still echoing in your mind, you close your eyes and let yourself slip back into unconsciousness, knowing that tomorrow, nothing will have changed.

You wake suddenly, gasping for air, your skin slick with sweat. The sheets are tangled around your legs, suffocatingly warm. For a moment, you think it's just another nightmare—the kind that leaves you feeling claustrophobic and panicked—but the heat in the room is real, heavy, and stifling.

You sit up slowly, blinking in the darkness, your breath coming in shallow gasps. Something feels off. The usual low hum of electricity, the steady whir of the ceiling fan, the soft glow of electronics—they’re all gone. Silence presses down around you, and the air in the room feels thick and still, almost oppressive.

The power’s out.

It hits you slowly at first, like a distant thought struggling to surface. The heat, the silence... no fan, no lights. And then it clicks. The power’s out. The fingerprint scanner.

Your heart skips a beat, adrenaline spiking through your veins. No power means the security system that’s kept you locked in this room—trapped and helpless—is down. The scanner on the door, the one that’s monitored your every movement, is dead. It has to be.

This could be your only chance.

You stumble out of bed, your legs shaky, still groggy from sleep but jolted awake by the rush of adrenaline. Your hands tremble as you feel your way to the door in the dark, the oppressive heat clinging to your skin. The room is suffocating, the air too thick to breathe, but none of that matters now.

You press your thumb against the scanner, holding your breath. Nothing happens. The small screen remains black, unresponsive. It’s not working.

A flicker of hope flares in your chest. The lock isn’t powered. You press your palm against the door and push, feeling it give under your hand. Slowly, carefully, you ease the door open just a crack and peer out into the hallway.

The corridor is bathed in shadow, darker than when you last saw it. The ambient lights, the security monitors, everything is dead. The house is eerily still, the silence even more unnerving than before. You step into the hallway, your heart racing as you move forward, each step deliberate and cautious.

For a brief, terrifying moment, you expect to hear Sylus’s voice, or the sound of footsteps approaching from behind, but the house remains quiet. You know he has Luke and Kieran stationed somewhere, but for now, the way seems clear.

You make your way toward the grand staircase, remembering some parts of the house from earlier. The front door is just ahead, at the bottom of the stairs. The hallway stretches before you, dark and endless, but your pulse quickens with the possibility of freedom.

You take a breath and descend the stairs as quietly as possible, gripping the banister for balance. Each creak of the wood beneath your feet feels deafening in the stillness. Your eyes dart around the hallway, searching the shadows for any sign of movement.

Finally, you reach the bottom of the stairs. The front door looms ahead, and you move toward it, the air growing cooler as you get closer. Your hand reaches for the door handle, and just as your fingers brush the cool metal, you freeze.

Voices.

You hear them—low, muffled voices coming from outside the door. Sylus’s men.

"Shit, powers out. We gotta start the generators."

Your heart sinks. They're right outside. You cant go this way without immediately being manhandled.

You glance around frantically, your mind racing for another way out. The house is massive, full of rooms and corridors, but you have no idea where the other exits lead. Still, you can’t afford to stand here and think—you need to move.

Then you remember. The kitchen. Maybe there's a way out there?

It’s a long shot, but you don’t have any other options. You turn quickly, darting down the hallway, your footsteps light and deliberate on the smooth, black tile. The shadows seem to stretch and twist around you, and every small creak feels like it’s echoing through the silence. You try to keep calm, but the fear of being caught wraps tighter around your chest with every passing second.

You reach the kitchen, and the oppressive heat of the house seems to lessen as you step inside. The room is large and dark, no light to be seen through the windows. The scent of stale food lingers in the air, remnants of a meal long forgotten, but you barely notice it. Your eyes dart to the side door.

It’s small, barely noticeable in the corner of the room, half-concealed behind shelves and cabinets. The door leads out to the horse racing track—you remember Sylus mentioning it in conversation once.

You rush toward the door, your pulse thundering in your ears. You reach for the handle, your hand trembling as it wraps around the cool metal. For a brief moment, you fear it’ll be locked, that this last chance at freedom will slip through your fingers.

Thankfully, with a twist and a click it opens.

The space beyond the kitchen is nothing like you expected—no trees, no breeze, just the harsh, cold landscape of the N109 zone. The dark, black midnight sky looms over you like an oppressive blanket, thick and unwelcoming. No stars, no moonlight, just an endless void stretching above you. The air is still and stale, a reflection of the lifelessness surrounding you.

But you have no time to process any of it. You can’t stop now. You have to keep moving.

Your feet press into the cracked, uneven ground as you forge ahead, your breath shallow and quick. As you walk, the outline of several horse stables comes into view. The structures are dark, the animals inside unmoving, their silhouettes barely visible in the low light. Thankfully, the horses are all asleep. None stir as you pass by quietly, your body tense and ready to bolt at the slightest sound. The only thing you hear is the quiet crunch of your own footsteps on the rough surface beneath you.

Ahead, a tall fence looms in the distance, a final obstacle standing between you and the outer edges of the N109 zone. You approach it cautiously, your heart pounding in your chest as you study its height. It’s rusted and worn, but still sturdy enough to make the climb difficult. You don’t have time to think—you have to act.

Gripping the cold metal tightly, you heave yourself up, your muscles straining with each movement. Your hands slip slightly, the rough texture of the fence biting into your palms as you scramble to find footing. Panic flares briefly in your chest, but you grit your teeth and push through the fear. You can’t stop now.

Just as you manage to get a decent grip, you hear it—the unmistakable hum of power returning. Behind you, Sylus’s mansion springs to life. Lights flicker on in the distance, illuminating the cold, empty halls that only moments ago were shrouded in darkness. The power’s back. It won’t be long before they notice you’re gone. They’ll be coming for you.

It’s now or never.

With a final burst of strength, you haul yourself up the last few feet of the fence, your breath coming in ragged gasps. The metal digs into your skin, but you don’t care. You pull yourself over the top, balancing precariously for a moment before launching yourself over.

You crash onto the other side, landing face-first on the hard, unforgiving ground. Pain shoots through your body as your knees and elbows scrape against the jagged surface, but you don’t let it stop you. You’ve come too far to be caught now.

For a moment, you lie there, dazed and gasping for breath, the shock of the impact making your head spin. The cold ground beneath you feels like both a punishment and a reminder that you’re not free yet. Behind you, you can hear the faint sounds of activity from the mansion—the twins moving, footsteps echoing in the distance.

They know.

Ignoring the pain, you force yourself to your feet, your body protesting with every movement. The fence looms behind you like a dark sentinel, separating you from the life you’re fleeing. You don’t dare look back at the mansion, don’t give yourself the chance to second-guess your next move.

You start running.

The landscape ahead is bleak and dark, with nothing but cold, cracked streets in every direction. There’s no breeze, no noise apart from your labored breathing and the pounding of your feet against the ground. A few tall and bleak buildings reminiscent of a part of a city come into view. You start making your way there.

You’re outside. You’re running. And for the first time in what feels like forever, the possibility of freedom is real, even if it’s still far out of reach.

In the distance, perched on a dead landline, a mechanical crow preens its feathers. Its head jerks toward a running girl, its red eyes locking onto her figure. Without warning, it spreads its metal wings and takes off in her direction, gears whirring as it follows from above.

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madschiavelique · 1 year ago

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Hi Ily

Miguel who says he doesn’t want kids after gabriella but secretly tries to breed reader 🤭 breeding press, ass up head down, missionary but he holds knees up to readers chest afterwards for a minute? Anytime reader confronts this he denies it LOL lowkey gaslighting them

GN reader tyyy

aww ily too nony !! hope u like it hehehe

summary : miguel said he didn't want kids after gabriella... but sectrely tries to breed you content warnings : SMUT (18+) minors dni, pnv sex, breeding kink, scent kink (miguel can smell reader's ovulating), gn!reader, no use of Y/N word count : 627 tag list : @fandom-ash

A moan washed through your hot breath against Miguel's cheek as he thrust into you once more, making you feel as if he were buried even deeper within you.

Your calves rested on his shoulders while your knees were on either side of your head, grazing your ears.

"Miguel-" you swallowed as your voice caught in your throat, "I'm too full."

But that was all he was looking for.

Miguel had raised your hips, pressed your legs against you to drive his cock even deeper into you. He had to touch you to the core, make sure his cum would fill you completely and guarantee that you would bear his children.

You were already full, but he had to go on and finish one more time, as much for his own pleasure as to make sure you'd end up pregnant.

He could already picture you, your rounded belly that he caressed and kissed as you carried the fruit of his success inside you.

His chest was pressed against the soft skin of your thighs, his fingers gripping one of them firmly as he moved down to kiss your neck before only pulling his head back to admire the view.

He had before him the most sublime vision of all, your gaze all hazy and dumb fucked, breasts pressed and cunt just taking him perfectly.

His pupils turned red, his rhythm quickening while he let out low grunts as he came to kiss you.

He couldn't think of anything else, his only thoughts all focused on breeding you. He had to make sure you were full enough so that, if he pressed down on your belly, hi cum would drip out of you excessively.

Your mouth whimpering his name, your nails tracing long lines down his back and leaving crescent moon marks in his arm, your smell...

You were ovulating, and that's what made it so uncontrollable. That plump, warm, irresistible smell - how could he control himself when you smelled like that? You were ready for him, your body itself caressing his deepest instincts.

Your walls were so warm, enveloping him to perfection.

"Take it all in," he growled as he felt himself coming, accelerating harder inside you.

He bit into your neck, licking the trail he'd left. His scent mingling with yours was just so exceptional, he couldn't get rid of it, and didn't want to : it felt like pure heaven.

He grunted with a final thrust as he sank deep inside you, feeling his cum filling you all warm once more as you moaned at the sensation.

He came to press his forehead to yours, breathing open-mouthed before coming to kiss you, not moving from the position. He was still buried deep in you, making sure you stayed full and nothing came out.

"Are you... trying to get me pregnant?" you murmured against him, still breathless as Miguel nuzzled his head into your neck, inhaling your intoxicating scent.

He bit his lip and wrinkled his nose. He knew well that you suspected his convictions about not wanting any more children were dubious.

"Don't you like being so full of me, mami?" he'd asked, hoping to deflect the conversation.

"I do, but-" he came to kiss you, cutting you off.

"But what?" his voice was calm, honeyed.

"You said-" but he interrupted you again.

"What I said didn't matter." he sighed as he kissed your cheek, grinning against it as he came back to face you. "But what matters more to me now is that you admitted to liking it."

He raised your hips a little higher even than before, bringing his fingers against your clit which drew a moan from you.

"Then you won't mind if I continue."

Good things can always be overindulged.

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chewnotchoke · 2 months ago

Text

in the warmth of your touch,

— boynextdoor with a s/o who feels cold

requested by anon <3 idk if a similar fic was written prior to this but pls do let me know if there is

comments are highly appreciated! also been a while since i last posted so i hope u enjoy this one!

sungho

𓍯 it was your first time sharing a bed with sungho. you snuggle into yourself, but you still feel an icy breeze along your back, and the room is colder than you anticipated. you know every inch between you and sungho, who is laying only on the opposite side, so you don't want to move too much.

it's not quite enough to have a blanket drawn firmly around your shoulders. you wonder whether he feels the same hesitancy because he hasn't said anything yet, likely in an attempt to settle in. but before you can say anything, you feel his arm extend and his touch lightly rest on your shoulder.

“i think it’ll drive me crazy if i’m not closer than this to you.” sungho says close to your ear. the softness of the moment, the way his hand rests on your arm, and the silent comfort in the gap between you are all that's left. under a blanket that is too tiny, the two of you are feeling warmer than ever.

riwoo

𓍯 maybe going on a walk on a cold night was a bad idea. you didn’t bring any sweater with you to warm you up, and your clothes were almost thin. the breeze was crisp and unexpected on an april night. worse, you were walking side by side with riwoo.

“you look cold. do you want my jacket?”

you declined, knowing it would be bad for him if he tries to make you warm. it’s been a while since you started dating but you still couldn’t help but get shy around him. his kindness makes you fluster, only because you like him that much. he noticed how you kept trying to bring your arms closer to your body to summon any warmth left.

before you knew it, like an embrace, his jacket was enveloped around your shoulders. the wind made it easier to smell his scent on the fabric. from behind, riwoo then wrapped his arms on your shoulders as he draws you closer to him.

“we could stay like this longer if you want.”

and both of you were giggling because he didn’t want to let go of you while walking. flirtatious glances accompanied every step, and your breath was audible in the cold air, fitting in with the playful conversation that seemed to revolve around you two.

jaehyun

𓍯 would be the type to make cheesy comments because he's actually shy about holding your hand and his cheeks are tinted with a faint blush. "you know you don't need to buy hand warmers because you already have me, right?" he says. your fingers are intertwined with each other and he adds, "other people can't find a hand warmer like me!" he grins. you'd laugh at his remark and say "so you're like my personal hand warmer then?"

"yeah, i'm yours only." both of you would laugh at each other's cheesy comments, warming up your hand even more like how much his laugh and smile warms up your heart. he loves playing with your hand, and makes more comments to conceal his shyness.

he doesn't tell you he likes it when you feel colder because then it's his chance to hold you closer to him. he'd ask you if your body feels cold too so you could snuggle together and wrap his arms around your waist.

taesan

𓍯 taesan gets more flirty because he loves the feel of your touch when you use his face to warm up your hands. on a study date you had with him, he reached out to your hands and noticed they were cold.

“can i make use of that pretty face to warm me up?” you asked, a smile crept onto his face. he was holding your hand and slowly bringing it to his face. you couldn't resist grinning as your palm touched taesan’s cheek and the warmth that radiated from him seemed like a soft sunshine.

taesan wasn't finished yet, though. he closed his eyes for a second, perhaps enjoying the sensation as he leaned into your contact and pushed your hand closer.

with a low voice, he whispered, "you don't realize how good this feels."

you move a few strand of his hair away from his face asking, “like it that much?” he opens his eyes to meet yours before replying “i love it so much i could fall asleep like this.”

leehan

𓍯 at a cafe, you were staying with your boyfriend leehan for food. "baby, it's getting a little colder here." you were slightly shivering from the breeze of the air conditioner despite being wrapped with a long-sleeved shirt and thick denim pants. leehan watches you while you barely couldn't smile from the cold freezing air.

"i told you to order something hot like coffee." leehan holds both of your shoulders, making you face him. he starts rubbing his palms in an exaggerated motion, trying to summon warmth.

he leans in as he cups your face with his hands, warm like a furnace as it dissolves the chill settled on your cheeks. being the playful guy that he is, he lightly squeezed your face, filling his expression with a teasing laugh. "better?" he grins.

"stop making fun of me."

"it's okay, you're cute."

woonhak

𓍯 woonhak would be the type to take your hand and put it inside his pocket. woonhak slowly pulls your hands apart as his fingers discover yours. he silently puts your hands in his coat pockets while keeping his own hands firmly in place. with his thumb making soft circles on your skin, he occasionally squeezes your hand. the subtlety of it makes you wonder if he even recognizes what he's doing.

a grin forms in your face, realizing how bold he is but his pink cheeks were still visible. he doesn’t let go, not even when you finally stop shivering.

there's a pleasant, familiar smell of his cologne that hovers between you. now that he's near enough, you can feel his soft breath and his presence enveloping you like an invisible blanket. the gentle curve of woonhak’s lips and the faint flush on his cheeks that intensifies when he knows you're observing him are visible when you dare to look up.

“like it so bad when i hold your hand like this you can’t even stop looking at me, huh?” he teases you

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sleepyangelkami · 2 months ago

Text

PLAYTHING s.winchester

𝜗𝜚 WORD COUNT - 1.2K

SAM WINCHESTER X FEM!READER

𝜗𝜚 SUMMARY - though on the road with dean, sam always comes home to you whatever chance he gets. this time, he feels he's been gone to long and when he finds you sleeping in only his shirt... he aches for you.

𝜗𝜚 WARNINGS - smut, dom!sam, sub!reader, p!v, sleepy sex, praise kink, reader mentioned to be smaller than sam, practically porn with no plot, gentle sex, unprotected sex, petnames, intended lower case, nothing i write is ever proofread 🩷

exhaustion coated sam as he fished around in the back pocket of his jeans, looking for the spare key to your house. it was late and by now, the stars covered the sky. he knew you'd be asleep, that's why he didn't bother knocking.

the door opened silently and sam silently cursed you for leaving your hallway light on. he was always telling you to turn it off before bed but without him there... you felt safer with it on.

he kicked his boots off, not wanting to make a mess of your carpet and found himself walking up the stairs, switching the light off as he went. he tossed his bag somewhere by the top of the stairs, knowing he'd come back to it in the morning.

all that mattered now was well, you.

he opened the door of your bedroom. it was dark but he could still make out the silhouette of your body. your leg was propped up, practically cuddling the duvet. he could see a shirt enveloping your body, too big to be yours.

as he slid his shirt off, he found himself longing to feel you, to touch you. it'd only been a week since he was in this room last and yet it had felt like an eternity that he'd been deprived of your touch.

whenever sam came home after his trips, he'd slide his clothes off and get right into bed. which is exactly what he did now. he wasted no time in enveloping his large arms around your body, pulling you in close.

the smell of your shampoo made his eyes flutter closed and the scent of his own cologne against the sleep shirt you'd stolen from him made his lips quirk.

"sammy?" your voice was a quiet, soft mumble. he loved the way you sounded when you'd just woken, so vulnerable. perhaps he loved it so much because he knew you wouldn't be so vulnerable with anyone else. just him.

"'m here, sweetheart." he felt you move in his embrace. he loved holding you like this, he wished he could get impossibly closer, as if it were possible.

you moved so that you were facing his chest, slightly lower down in the bed than he was. "how was your hunt?" even in the dark, your hands trailed up his arms. he was wearing nothing but his boxers. but feeling his body, there was something about it that just assured you he was really there. "missed you."

"yeah? how much?" the man ignored your first question, his hands sliding around your own body.

you couldn't describe the soft feeling of when he'd come home, feeling him, knowing he was there while he did the same to you. it was rather... lovely.

you felt his fingers inch higher, trailing past the flimsy material of his own shirt on your body. suddenly, you felt the base of his fingers against your panties.

"sammy." you practically whimpered out, low and sleepy. "'m tired."

"i know, honey." you felt him move your hair with his free hands, pressing gentle, damp kisses against your neck. not the kind of kisses he usually left, sucking and leaving marks, roughly and making sure everyone knew you were his. no, this was different. he wasn't kissing you to leave any marks or to induce pleasure, even. he was kissing you so softly, to let you know you were safe with him. "you don' have to do anything, okay? jus' lay there 'n let me do the work, yeah?"

a soft, "okay." left your lips, though your mind was still half torn between sleep and wake.

"good girl." pressing the same, simple kiss to your cheek as his fingers hooked against your cotton panties. you could feel him drag them down against your legs but truthfully, your eyes had fallen shut, tiredness seeping into you.

he pushed his own boxers out of the way too, discarding the clothing against the ground before grabbing his dick in his hand.

if he were being honest, he'd felt himself harden the minute he'd seen your body, pretty cotton panties on show, hardly covered by his own shirt.

perhaps he was being territorial now, but there was something so aching about seeing you in his shirt. he knew you were his, that was a known fact, but seeing you like this, it lit a part of him ablaze.

he moved his hand up and down his shaft, making sure it was hard enough before maneuvering it up against your wet hole.

he didn't push in yet, gently testing the waters as he pushed the tip around your cunt, softly against your clit and finally back down to your sopping hole again.

"jus' relax, baby." littering kisses against your skin. "gonna do all the work."

the hum that left your lips was slick with tiredness but when he pushed himself in, he was met with a stuttered gasp that left your lips. a grunt left his own, usually a string of curses would accompany it.

but not tonight.

often, he'd spend the first few minutes teasing you as much as he could.

but not tonight.

"good girl." he mumbled against your forehead which he had kissed tenderly. "doin' s'good."

he didn't speak much tonight, which he usually did. usually, he couldn't get himself to stop talking. dirty words and the sounds of loud moans would bounce from wall to wall. now, the room was filled with only heavy breaths and lazy whimpers that could be heard from you, buried in the crook of his neck.

but he didn't need you to say anything either. the mere feeling was enough.

it was different than usual. the feeling was indescribable, how comfortable you were with him. the realisation of that on his part was something so riveting.

even now, between the twisted blankets of your bed. you were half asleep, hardly able to keep your eyes open and yet you trusted him with the most vulnerable thing that you could. he realised how protected you felt with him, his large body enclosing around yours, hands gentle against your waist while your head stayed hidden between his neck and shoulder.

your gentle breaths, tiniest of whimpers in his ears was enough for him.

and it didn't take him long to get close.

perhaps he really had been deprived of you.

your breath grew slightly more shallow. "sam." is all you could whimper out, he knew exactly what it'd meant.

"i know, baby." he all but whispered back. "'s okay, let go f'me."

and when you came undone around his cock, he felt himself do the same.

even when everything was done, when the feelings floated away into the air and everything was replaced by this heavy weight of tiredness, he stayed inside you for a few minutes. he stayed inside of you until finally, he realised he was going to fall asleep if he didn't move.

and when he did move out of you, he still kept you close. his large hands trailed up your body, holding it as close as humanly possible.

"really did miss you, sammy." you whispered in the utter darkness.

it was enough for him to think. to really think. perhaps the life he lived wasn't worth it. if he had to give everything up just for a few moments like his with you, then he would.

"missed you so much more, angel."

and with the soft movements of one another's breaths, you fell asleep rather quickly, unable to fight of the tiredness that washed over you both.

sam made sure you didn't leave his embrace until the sun began to rise over the horizon.

main masterlist/sam's masterlist

#sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester one shot #sam winchester imagine #sam winchester x y/n #sam winchester x reader fluff #sam winchester x reader smut #sam winchester drabble #sam winchester x reader angst #sam winchester x reader comfort #sam winchester fluff #sam winchester angst #sam winchester smut #sam winchester comfort #supernatural #supernatural x reader #supernatural x y/n #supernatural drabble #sleepyangelkami

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whiskeyskin · 9 months ago

Text

Love and Longing

Premise: When Elminster delivers Mystra's blessing to reprieve Gale from the Orb's volitile nature, there's a certain something he's been denying himself for over a year and he's finally alone in his tent 👀🍆💦

• Gale x gn!tav • 18+ • E/M Rating

Gale's POV, reader referred as "you", no mention of specific pronouns or genitals, porn without plot, male masturbation, fantasising, oral both recieving, penetration, jealousy, love, longing, horny!gale, fluff, lemons, Astarion x gn!tav referenced, marking if you squint

1.9k words

Gods bless you @wizardblood for this gifset we gladly receive 🥵✨

Part 2 here, if you like that sort of thing?

A/N: Y'all are making me UGLY CRYY WITH JOY AT THESE LOVELY COMMENTS 😭😭😚😚 Thank you for over 800 notes!! You beautiful, thirsty creatures 😏💜

A/N: 1k NOTES?! 🥹🥹 I love each and every SINGLE one of you 😚✨

_____________________________

Gale looked down at the solid protrusion currently causing his bedroll to tent, attempting to keep his breathing even.

It had been what felt like an age since he'd allowed himself to indulge in arousal.

He lay under the blankets, naked as a babe, anticipation crackling in the air around him.

After removing the charm on his underwear to suppress such feelings, it had all come flooding back.

Especially with you around.

His attraction to you was undeniable, however much he thought it impossible; especially after his heartbreak with Mystra. Nevertheless, his feelings for you grew with each step you took, every kind word and all the good you sought to accomplish.

You'd spoken in his defense passionately when Elminster had delivered Mystra's word; the fire in your heart had rivalled that of Karlach.

You'd vowed that there was another way to be found. That you wouldn't allow him to sacrifice himself.

And he loved you for it.

Gods dammit, he did.

He'd fallen hard for you.

He tried to deny it, of course.

It wouldn't lead anywhere.

He had to die.

It was his destiny to end the Absolute, whatever the cost.

No matter stolen glances across the campfire. Ignoring the heated moment of magic between you, where you'd shown him how you felt for him.

Besides, you'd taken Astarion to bed multiple times since the Tiefling party. He couldn't compete with the sultry advances of the Pale Elf.

His paultry offerings of affection wouldn't stand a chance.

But still, a part of him envisioned what life could be like if it was spent by your side.

Hearth crackling, the day's sun swooping low in the sky across the water, two arm chairs and a bottle of wine.. candle light and the smell of strawberries, sweat and arousal. The sound of your voice against his ear, the feeling of your wet, ribbed warmth welcoming him home after a long and stressful day.

Gale licked his bottom lip, his breathing heavy. He reached a hand under the sheets, in the privacy of his tent, to indulge in thoughts of you.

Gods, he wanted to use his mouth on you, he wanted to drown in your heady scent. He would press kisses against your inner thighs, teasing and tormenting, languishing tongue and teeth.

Your unfettered arousal evident before him as he would glide his mouth up your sex, tasting your sweetness and salt. You'd moan his name and wind a fist into his hair, sending sparks through his scalp.

He took the tip of himself in his first fingers, pre-cum had already gathered between the slit and dripped onto his stomach.

Taking a deep breath, he began to gently pulse the head. He hissed as blinding pleasure seared across his vision and sunk low in his belly.

"Ahhh.." he exhaled, with a widening, sinful grin.

Finally, he could touch himself after all these months.

He gritted his teeth against another groan that tried to escape. The sensation of oanism foreign to him but welcome, thoughts of you flooding his mind, as he fell into an old, familiar rhythm.

Oh, you would moan so sweetly underneath him, as he filled you to the brim with his cock. You'd envelop him to the root, sensually clenching your walls around his girth.

Gale replicated the feeling by adding a second hand to squeeze, imagining you enveloping him.

He moved slow and deliberate, like you were taking him for the first time. Every rib of his fingers torture against his sensitive flesh. He pumped his hands in unison, along the thick, veined length of himself, building up the pressure constricting his erection, increasing the speed and fantasizing that he was entangled in your loving embrace.

He'd hold your legs aloft, parted just for him. You'd bray like a wild animal in heat, with the need for his throbbing length to ride you to climax.

One hand clumsily slid to cup his testicles, to massage them and drive him closer to the edge. His hips gyrated at nothing, rutting against the thought of you.

You'd climb to take control and ride him like a stallion through the night. He would hear the salacious slapping of your cheeks against his hips, as he'd watch you bounce yourself in wanton bliss.

He'd hold on to your waist, fingertips digging in hard enough to cause contusions.

He wanted to bruise you, claim you as his own. He wanted to sucker his ownership right over Astarion's bite marks.

He had no right to this ugly and repulsive feeling of jealousy, he knew this.. but he couldn't help himself.

They both vied for your attention and he couldn't stand that Astarion had tasted you when he hadn't.

He wanted to hear your cries as he fucked up into you, slamming your hips down on him harder. Gods, he wanted his name on your lips.

Gale licked the sweat gathering on his top lip; he imagined it was you tasting him.

He fantasied about you using your beautiful mouth on him. You'd cover his body in long, wet, trailing kisses before you'd take him in your mouth. You'd gorge on his cock until he couldn't breathe. Your skillful tongue needy to please him. Your hands wielding a very different kind of weapon, sheathing it entirely down your spectacular throat.

You'd look up at him through lidded gaze, his hard length completely engulfed. The contact would be searing, it would burn him to the spot, it would ignite his soul and turn him to willingly to ash.

There would be love and devotion in your eyes, blissful happiness in your heart.

Gale swallowed and shook his head from side to side.

He wanted to see you.

Wanted you to see him.

See him like this for you.

Helpless and desperate for just a moment of you.

He wanted you to look at him with adoring eyes that turn lustful, when you see him abusing himself, with your name on his lips.

Gale uttered the illusion cantrip and you appeared on your knees beside him. He gasped and smiled brightly at you. He knew it wasn't real but gods he wanted it to be.

You smiled back at him, infatuation shining in your eyes.

"Gale.." softly came the only word he'd been able to summon you to utter. It was warped but it was still your voice. It was still you.

He threw back the covers so you could see him. See all of him. Naked. So you could drink in the sight of him stroking his thick, alert and wanting cock to the thought of you.

"It's for you. Only for you. Going to come for you-just for you." He managed, his voice husky from lust.

"Gale.." You whispered, licking your lower lip and gliding your hands up your strong thighs. You cup yourself through your camp garb and palm yourself in circles, "Gale.." you moan, throwing your head back slightly as you ground against your hand.

His hips twitched unconsciously at seeing your image pleasuring yourself for his enjoyment. That you felt this joy together.

A rumble started to build behind his cock, it tightened around his belly and coiled itself around his legs. It rose through his chest, painfully electrifying his nipples to stiff points, as it wound it's way to the base of his skull. There it gripped him, held him, allowed him to go no further.

He whined in frustration. Gods he wanted to come, it had been so long, so very long.

"Gale..?" Came your voice, he looked at you and his stomach flipped uncomfortably in desire.

You looked spectacular; hair mussed, eyes glassy and wide, lips pink and swollen from lust. Still touching yourself through your clothes, rocking vigorously against the friction.

You placed a hand on your heart and threw your head back in ecstasy. His body began to violently tremble in anticipation.

Oh gods, you looked resplendent on the precipice of orgasm.

"Gale!" You whimpered, sweat glistening on your skin, "Gale.. Gale.. Gale.." you moaned between breaths, your image replicating the noises he'd overheard when you'd snuck into the forest, and committed to memory. The reckless abandon of your heady moans of pleasure. Your face tightened and released, your mouth falling open to gasp.

The desire at the back of his head suddenly pulled taut, every muscle strained, pressure swelling behind his erection. His eyes rolled back in his head, before he came undone.

He jerked and thrashed on his bedroll, trying and failing to keep his ministrations to himself. Thick spurts of cum shot over his stomach, chest and neck, as he came hard for you.

"For you-all for you-only for you." He whimpered, his jaw tense, teeth bared.

He pumped raggedly, squeezing every single drop of his seed from himself. It was almost to the point of pain but the pleasure balanced it perfectly to make the suffering delicious. His muscles seized and toes curled to their fullest extent, as he huffed out a breath and lay feeling weightless on the carpeted interior of his tent.

Gale lay there breathing heavily, sweat damp on his brow. His softening cock still pulsating with after effects, within his loose grasp, as his brain buzzed with static.

His heart felt twice it's size and his entire being was in total elated relaxation, with a doltish smile plastered across his face.

He could quite happily lay like this forever.

It had been so long.

He couldn't remember release being like this.

It was.. dizzying.. violent.. euphoric.. transcendent.. monumentous..

sticky..

cold..

uncomfortable..

"Oh no." Gale groaned, as he looked down on his masterpiece.

Your image had disappeared; there was no way he couldn't have concentrated through that kind of orgasm, even if his life depended on it.. and Mystra's eyelids, the mess he'd made of himself.

His cum lay heavy on his stomach and chest, spattered up to his neck and jaw. Hells, it was even on the floor!

He internally grumbled to himself.

This was the not so fun part of masturbation.

The sharp thud back to reality and the clean up.

He sighed. Well, that was short lived.

Lucky for a Wizard, clearing away the stains of his growing shame, was painless.

Gale waved his hand and the evidence of his debauchery disappeared.

He suddenly felt empty and hollow. The euphoria of release gone all too soon. Slumping back on to his bedroll and bringing the covers up against the chill, he frowned to himself, a cavernous feeling in his chest.

Gale waved his hand, using his last spell slot to conjure your image again.

You appeared laid down with him, tucked closely, your stunning eyes soft and content.

His heart ached; he wanted this.

It didn't matter how much he denied it, he knew what love felt like in the beginning and this was it.

This wasn't because of a covetous, lustful haze from the urgency of ejaculation.

It was comfort.

It was safety.

It was love.

And it terrified him.

More than the thought of ending as a small blip in the farest reaches of the realm. More than dying alone in excruciating agony.

Falling in love with you scared him because it meant that now, he had something to live for.

You smiled sleepily at him and readjusted yourself to get comfortable beside him.

"Night." You whispered, blowing him a slow kiss, closed your eyes and curled in nearer to him.

He stared longingly at your resting form; you looked so peaceful. Wet stinging burned his eyes and he sniffed dryly.

He needed to get to sleep.

He really should..

You'd only last a minute.

He couldn't bare the thought of opening his eyes again without you there, laying beside him..

Tears fell from his eyes and dripped to his pillow, as he shut them tight, "Goodnight, my love."

•°•°•

Part 2

Or.. I've got a Masterlist.. yuh know.. if you like this sort of stuff 👀😏

#gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #bg3 gale #gale x tav #baldurs gate gale #gale x gn!tav #gale x reader #gale x you #gale smut #astarion x gn!tav #astarion x gale x tav #whiskeyskin

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spdrvyn · 2 years ago

Text

touch-starved headcanons — MIGUEL O'HARA

SUMMARY: miguel isn't the most touchy person when you and him first meet but as your relationship with him developed over time and things started to get more intimate, you discovered new things about his love language.

THIS POST CONTAINS: like my last one. literally nothing but fluff. sleep-deprived and stressed out miguel.

NOTES: do you guys think miguel needs a hug because i think miguel needs a hug, reblog and like if you think that miguel needs a hug because i think that he needs a hu

– through the most painful methods (to his heart), miguel had found out that you really liked touching people. every time you greeted him, it was a big hug that he would hesitate to return. it's not that he didn't enjoy it, it was just that it wasn't something he was used to. it's not like people in the spider society were walking around giving hugs.

– although, it's not like he was opposed to it. it was you, after all. gradually, he began getting more comfortable. resorting to wrapping an arm around you and dragging his hand up and down your back, it would make the hug last just a little longer and he enjoyed the soft gestures. they meant a lot more to him than you thought.

– it took a little time to get him to fully hug you back. the reason for that was how he looked when doing so. he doesn't like being so public about it, he can hear the murmurs and light giggles from the passersby around him when you hug him. besides, the face that he makes is one that he finds quite embarrassing. he looked so content, compared to the stone-faced and distant demeanor he always walked around with at work.

"Miguel!"

He felt his body stiffen as you called out his name, head turning frenetically as to locate where exactly you were calling him from. Not until he feels a finger tap him on the shoulder, he turned around and looked down to see you with a grin tugging at your lips.

He isn't even able to get a single word out as you embrace him, head buried into his chest and arms wrapped tightly around his torso. You're about to pull away before you feel two strong arms envelop you as well.

Your heart fluttered a little. Ever since the start of your friendship with him, you'd gotten used to him not reciprocating the hugs. You couldn't blame him honestly, some people aren't into it but it also perplexed you because it's not like he hated it? Otherwise, you wouldn't have continued.

After a few long moments, he finally pulls back and whatever just happened left a look of awe on your face that he reacted so adorably to. His eyebrows furrowed, lips pursing into a straight line, the crimson eyes that you would lose yourself in averting from yours as a shade of deep red settles on his cheeks.

"So, what are you here for? How'd you even get in?" You wanted to laugh at the strain in his voice, but just this once, you decided to spare him the embarrassment.

Quickly digging into your bag, you bring out a small container. "Admittedly, some of your coworkers were a little... surprised when they saw me head up but I told them that I was your friend and they were slightly less mortified!"

You handed the tupperware over to him as he carefully took it in his hands. "I just wanted to bring you a snack. Haven't seen you in a while so I assumed that things were getting busier around here."

Miguel pried open the container as the scent of freshly baked banana bread wafted through the walls of his office. For a moment, you were concerned that he didn't like it. He stared blankly at the food for a moment before closing it once more to conceal the scent.

"Thank you, that's- that's very thoughtful of you..."

Your head cocked to the side ever so slightly to get a better look at his face, watching lovingly as the blush that painted his cheeks continued to deepen.

Oh, how embarrassed he would be if he knew you could hear his heartbeat during that hug a while ago.

– you weren't all that surprised when the affection picked up ten-fold when you two started dating. whatever sense of yearning and longing for a loving relationship that miguel had was definitely all pouring out now but it's not like you were complaining. if anything, he seemed to be more physically affectionate than you at times. he'd work towards trying to be gentle towards you at the start of your relationship, he was scared that he'd hurt you but once you reassured him that he didn't need to walk on eggshells, he didn't hold back.

– greetings went from hugs to straight up kisses, when you got back home from work and he happened to stop by your shared apartment just to fetch something, he would always pull you into a kiss which would always leave you breatheless by the end of it. whenever you two were watching a movie, he'd constantly have his hands all over you. he liked playing with your body, his fingers would rake through your hair and gentle massage your scalp, his hands would wander down to your stomach to trace shapes into it, then to your thighs to knead into the soft flesh like a cat making biscuits.

– let's not leave out how much he bites as well. he has a tendency for marking you up, sometimes you'd be cooking something on the stove and he'd sneak up behind you and wrap his arms around your waist. when you finished preparing your meal and perhaps wanted to get a change of clothes, you'd see a small bite mark in the crevices in your neck. you were more than okay with it, of course, you just had one rule to not make it uncoverable. a rule that he had forgotten to obey at times because "you just taste so good".

"Fuck..."

You groaned as the blaring sounds of your alarm rung painfully in your ears, you reached over to the bedside table and looked at your phone screen (basically getting flashbanged as you forgot you didn't turn down the brightness last night). It was still early in the morning but you still had tasks to care of and a job to do.

You turn off the alarm and sit up from the bed, wincing as you take a big stretch. You're ready to actually stand up and start the day until an arm wraps around your midsection, forcing you back down onto the bed with a yelp.

Your back hits Miguel's chest as he cages you, his face buries itself into the crook of your neck. "Stay, s'early..." You can hear him mumble, hot breath tickling your skin and it sends a tingle up your spine. You giggle, your hand moving down to the ones that he has firmly digging into your belly.

"No matter what I say, you're going to keep me here anyway."

"Mhm. Just surrender."

You mumble out a small "okay" as you properly settle back into his warmth, a small hum escapes his throat as you can feel his nose digging into his neck and lips pressing the back of your shoulder.

Time seems to pass by slowly, surprisingly enough you're used to this. You barely get to see Miguel some days due to the nature of his job however the moment that you're together again, it all feels so heavenly.

Your train of thought is interrupted when you feel a shift of movement, Miguel maneuvers your body so that you're now facing him.

Only now do you get to see how cute he looks. His regularly slicked backed hair all messy, stray hair strands falling onto his forehead. Lips curled into a small pout and eyes lidded as it seems like he's staring into your soul or something.

"Corazón," He breathes out, your fingers move to cup his cheek. Your thumb swipes at the deep bags that formed under his eyes. "Can I kiss you?"

You let your actions speak for you as you leaned in closer, pressing your lips against his. One of the hands that he wrapped around your waist moves to your hair like always, fingers combing out the locks as the kiss continues to deepen.

Once you two finally part, a small grin makes itself present on your face and on his as well.

You realized now that whatever jobs you had, whatever lives you two lived didn't matter as long as both of you were happy. A thought intensified as he pulled you in for another kiss.

request rules here, masterlist here

#spiderman: across the spiderverse #across the spiderverse #spiderverse #atsv #miguel o'hara #spiderman 2099 #spiderman #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara fluff #reader insert #x reader #gn reader #gender neutral reader #fluff #romance #cute #domestic

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delicatebarness · 5 months ago

Text

bridges to burn | prologue

Summary: You arrive at the Avengers Compound to manage your uncontrollable Extremis powers. As you navigated the new environment, you clash with your assigned babysitter/bodyguard, Bucky Barnes.

Warning: MCU Spoilers. Iron Man 3. Intense Emotional Conflict. Superpowers and Uncontrollable Abilities. Parental Concern and Pressure. Family Tension. Emotional and Physical Heat.

Word Count: 1103

Spotify Playlist | Support: Ko-FI

Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

A/N: Oh look, another.

BTB Tags: - Let me know if you'd like to be tagged in this serious.

Touching down at the Avengers Compound, the Quinjet’s engines hummed softly as they powered down. You stepped off the lowering ramp and took in the sprawling complex. The building was an impressive blend of sleek modern design and cutting-edge technology, lush greenery surrounded the wide-open spaces. The peaceful landscape contrasted against the bustling chaos of the city, where you spent most of your life.

Your dad, Tony Stark, stood waiting for you near the entrance, concern, and determination etched across his aging features. The familiar scent of motor oil and cologne filled your senses as he enveloped you in a quick hug. His grip around you was firm, silently reassuring you that he was there for you.

“Welcome home, kid,” he said, a small smile tugging at his lips. However, his eyes revealed the worry he had tried to mask. “Come on, let me show you around.”

Following him through the compound, you passed training rooms that were filled with state-of-the-art equipment, common areas where you caught glimpses of some familiar faces, and the impressive hangar with various vehicles and aircraft. The building buzzed with activity, yet there was still a sense of order and purpose.

Finally, you reached Tony’s sanctuary, his lab. The place you knew he felt most at home. You marveled at the array of gadgets and projects scattered around, as you followed his gesture for you to step in. Screens displayed holographic schematics, while robotic arms moved with precision, a new creation being assembled. The faint hum of machinery was a comforting backdrop.

“And, this is where the magic happens,” Tony said, pride touching his voice. Watching you take it all in, his lips played a small smile. “But, before you get too comfortable, there’s something we need to talk about.”

Raising your eyebrow suspiciously, you waited for him to continue. Looking uncharacteristically nervous, he ran a hand through his hair.

“I know things have been… rough since the incident,” he began, trying carefully to choose his words. He leaned against a workbench, fixing his gaze on a point somewhere behind you, crossing his arms over his chest. “And, I know you’re struggling to control the Extremis,” he trailed off, pausing before he continued, “but, we can’t have another accident like that. Not again.”

The memory of the uncontrollable heat coursing through your veins caused you to flinch. The sight of the flames, the smell of burning wood, the panic in the firefighter’s voice as they tried to contain the damage. Since it saved your life as a child, you lived with the Extremis virus. Your mother, Maya Hansen’s legacy, turned you into a ticking time bomb.

“I know, Dad,” you sighed, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “I’ll do better.”

Shaking his head, Tony pushed off the workbench and stepped closer to you. “It’s not about doing better. It’s about getting help. Which is why I’ve arranged for someone to keep an eye on you.”

The door to the lab opened, snapping your attention away from your dad before you could protest. And in walked, Bucky Barnes– The Winter Soldier. You had seen him in action and heard the ghost stories, but meeting him in person… that was different. He was imposing, a steely gaze seemingly assessing every detail of the room, and you. As he approached, his movements were fluid, almost predatory.

“Tin-Man, this is my daughter,” Tony spoke as he gestured toward you. “She’s going to be staying here for a while. And… you’re going to be looking out for her.”

Bucky’s eyes narrowed slightly toward you, and you could see in his piercing gaze that he was as thrilled about this arrangement as you were. “I was expecting a kid,” he said bluntly, a hint of annoyance carrying in his voice. Crossing his arms over his chest, the metal of his arm caught against the light.

“No, I’m not a kid,” you snap back, matching his posture. “And, I don’t need a glorified babysitter. Unless,” you paused, shoot Bucky a playful smirk. “You’re here to tuck me in and read me a bedtime story?”

Tony stepped between you, holding up a hand to forestall any pending argument. “Easy, both of you. This isn’t up for debate. Barnes’ here to help, whether you like it or not.”

You glare at Bucky, who returns the look with an equal intensity. “Fantastic,” you said, your voice dripped with sarcasm. “My very own bodyguard, don’t expect me to make this easy for you.”

Smirking, Bucky’s eyes filled with amusement almost as if he was accepting a challenge. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Princess.”

“Don’t call me that,” you snap, your iris’ blazed with anger, a burning orange glow.

His smirk never faltered. “Whatever you say… Princess.”

Watching the exchange, Tony’s expression changed to one of concern and exasperation. His face, usually composed, now showed signs of strained patience. Rubbing a hand over his face, he tried to stifle a sigh. “Alright, both of you,” he injects, his voice filled with frustration. “This isn’t a battlefield. Can we at least try to keep it professional?”

You took a glance at Tony, then back at Bucky, who still had a smirk plastered across his face, enjoying the friction. Tony continued, his tone firm but weary. “I get that you two won’t see eye to eye, but let’s keep the drama to a minimum. We’re here to make sure things don’t go up in flames, literally.”

Squaring off with Bucky, you took another step closer. The heat between you both was almost tangible. “I mean it, Winter Soldier. I’m not some dame in distress that you get to boss around.”

Leaning in, his voice was a low, taunting whisper. “And I’m not some nanny here to hold your hand.”

The tension crackled between you, and you noticed how his eyes were cold and calculating, with a flicker of something else– something that mirrored the heat in your own. You weren’t sure if it was anger or something more, but whatever it was, made your heart race.

“Good,” you retorted, sarcasm stayed laced within your words. “I wouldn’t want you thinking you could handle me.”

His eyes locked with yours, his smirking only growing. “Trust me, Princess, I can handle anything you throw at me.”

Scoffing, you rolled your eyes, yet you couldn’t help but feel the thrill of his challenge rush through you. “We’ll see about that.”

As you turned to leave, you felt his gaze burning into your back. This wasn’t over– far from it. And somehow, the thought of that excited you as much as it infuriated you.

---

Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

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malavera · 5 months ago

Text

Cosplay (18+) — Hugh Jackman One Shot

pairing: hugh jackman x female reader

summary: Your hubby came home after filming one of the scenes for Deadpool & Wolverine with his costume on to surprise you

warning: SMUT! MDNI. PWP. Wolverine cosplay sex, unprotected sex, fingering, squirting, daddy kink, praise kink, the use of pet name bub (bubby / bubba)

a/n: i had this scenario every time i went to bed

"Bub, I'm home! Where are you?"

"In the kitchen!" Your voice echoes through the house, a playful lilt in your tone as you rinse the last plate under the warm, soapy water. The clatter of dishes is almost soothing, a rhythm you've come to appreciate in the quiet moments.

But then, without warning, a pair of strong arms snake around your waist, pulling you into a firm, familiar embrace. The unexpected touch sends a shiver down your spine, and you can feel the roughness of his stubble grazing against the soft skin of your shoulder blade. His warmth envelops you, seeping through your clothes, and suddenly the kitchen feels too small, too intimate.

"You’ve eaten without me?" His voice is a low, teasing rumble against your ear, and you can’t help but smile, even as your heart races.

"Well, I figured you'd be late, so..." You trail off, your voice faltering as you quickly dry your hands on a nearby towel. But when you turn around, the air catches in your throat.

Standing before you, with that trademark smirk you know all too well, is your lover. But tonight, he’s not just himself—he’s transformed. Draped in the iconic yellow and blue, his muscles defined by the snug fabric of Wolverine's original suit, he embodies the fierce, feral energy of the comic book legend. His eyes flash with mischief, and the scowl he wears—so perfectly in character—sends a thrill through you.

You stare, wide-eyed, your breath hitching as the reality of the moment sets in. The air feels heavy, charged with anticipation, and your mouth goes dry as you try to swallow, your body betraying you. He steps closer, the leather of his costume creaking ever so slightly, and you know—this night is far from over.

"H-Hugh..." The name slips from your lips, barely a whisper, as you stare, utterly transfixed.

His grin widens, the mischievous glint in his eyes sharpening. "What's the matter, bub? Cat got your tongue?" His voice is a low, teasing growl, sending a jolt of excitement through you.

You stumble back, the cool edge of the kitchen counter pressing against your spine as he advances, his presence overwhelming, magnetic. Your heart pounds in your chest, and you can't tear your eyes away from him—this man, your lover, transformed into something untamed, almost primal.

A nervous laugh escapes you, breathless and trembling. "You look... incredible." The words come out in a rush, your voice barely steady. He’s so close now, the scent of leather and cologne filling your senses, and you know there’s no turning back.

"C'mere.." He muttered, an arm snatching to hug your waist pulling you close to him before he tilted his head, enough so the pointy nose of the scowl wouldn't poke you, to pull you in for a hungry kiss. You gasp, trying to follow his rhythm.

Hugh grabs a handful of your hair, tugging it, earning a loud moan from you. As your mouth went agape that's his moment to shove his tongue deeper. The heated make out session sent you to heaven without realizing everything around you as you are now being seated on top of the kitchen counter, legs spread wide for him to stand in between them.

"You miss me bub?" Hugh asks in between the kiss.

"S'much, daddy." You mewled and he groaned.

"Please, daddy. Do something.. to me." You moaned.

"Yeah? What do you want daddy to do huh? Tell me." He's teasing you. He knows exactly what you need, it's your second favorite thing about him; his fingers. He's so good with it. The way he would put one in, and then shove the other, thrusting in and out of your glistening cunt. Your favorite part is when he curls them inside you before he repeatedly flicks them.

"Want your fingers, daddy."

"These fingers, baby?" He tilted his head, acting dumbfounded, as the tips of his finger made a circle against your clothed pussy. "Yeah?" He pressed the pad of his fingers right against your clothed clit.

"Ah.. Yes." You gasp, smiling.

"You're soaked already, bub. What's gotten you so eager for me? Is this the suit? Huh? You love seeing your daddy in his costume?" He taunted.

You can only nod as you enjoy the way his fingers rubbing your, still clothed, cunt. "Daddy, please. I've been good. I deserve this."

"Of course you do, baby." You gasp once you felt one of his fingers enter your throbbing cunt. You shrieked when you felt his other hand make a handful of your hair and tugged your head back, making you watch him.

"Look at me when I'm making you feel this good, bub." There goes the second finger, entering. And he does your favorite thing, finger-fucking you.

You whimpered, closing your eyes briefly. "Urgh.. Daddy you're so good.. You're so good with my pussy." Between the two of you here, you both have the praise kink. He's an actor, of course he loves being praised for his skills and performances. You both are a master at this department, though only your words can get him going.

"Yeah? Like that bub? Tell daddy how it feels... So good yeah?" He coo’ed.

"Yeah.. Yeah.. so good daddy, deeper.. OH!" You gasped out a loud moan at the end once you feel him pushing in his fingers deep into your cunt.

"Only my fingers can play with this cunt, right bub? My cunt." He grunted.

"Yes, yes daddy! It's your cunt!" You whimpered, feeling as you're about to reach your high; You gasp once more when he harshly tug his fingers out of your cunt, jolting your body forward.

"W-what.." You breathlessly said.

"You're gonna have to cum on my cock, bub." He hastily spoke as he tries to take his heavy cock out of his pants. Swallowing down your saliva, you watch as he give himself a couple of jerks before tapping his heavy cock against your pussy, indicating he’s about to go in. Not that he’d need your permission to.

Your mouth fell agape watching the big tip of his cock, slowly entering your soaked folds, feeling every inch of his cock going in even the raging veins felt like they’re scratching the insides of your warm cunt. Hugh roughly grabs you by your neck, forcing you to look him in the eyes that are covered with the wolverine scowl.

“Look at me when i’m fucking you, bub.” He harshly spoke as he starts to move his hips back and forth, gently at first before he picks up the pace, turning the peaceful atmosphere filled with your moaning mess.

You’d never imagine you’d see the night filled with Hugh fucking you on top of the kitchen island with his super hot wolverine costume on. All you could think about is how this costume would be the one where people all around the world would see later in the movie theater once it’s coming out. And the fact that he has fucked you in it, makes your pussy flutters as he is not stopping anytime soon. The nasty sound of your pussy milking his heavy cock that is formed from the mixed of your fluid fills the entire kitchen. And you wished you could watch yourself being fucked by the wolverine in third person’s point of view.

“What are you thinking about bub?” Hugh piston his hips to a certain angle which caused you to loudly moan. “You’re thinking about how good i’m fucking you right, bub? You never want me to stop right, honey?” Hugh coo’ed.

“N-no, daddy. I never want you to stop. I want you to make me cum, please it feels so good!” You cried, your hands went up to play with your tits.

“Oh yes, play with those tits bub. My tits. Fuck, this cunt is so good I can never get enough.” Hugh grunted. He pulls you closer to him making your hips lying at the edge of the counter.

All you wanted is to get him to cum deep inside you. You could feel the brush of his pubic hair from every stroke, his heavy balls slapping against your ass. You’re going to cum anytime soon. But something is growing inside you and it’s inching closer, any seconds now.

“W-wait, Daddy, stop, something’s wrong!” You shrieked.

And you know better from stoping your beloved from fucking you hard, he will never listen. But instead, he gripped your hips harder and thrusts his cock in and out of you with a godly fast pace.

“Fuck, fuck, Daddy!” You screamed as you forcefully pushing yourself away from him before you feel yourself reaching your high. You couldn’t contain it, it sprayed everywhere, even to his costume. Your thighs are shaking, your chest heaves up and down.

Hugh stood there groaning as he just witnessed his baby squirted out. “Fffuckk… Bub, that was amazing.” He muttered, but he’s not stopping there. He grabbed his cock, aiming the tip against your entrance, softly rubbing it against your hole first.

“W-wait, I don’t think I-..”

“Shut up, Bub. Daddy hasn’t cum yet.” He hissed as he pushed the tip of his cock into your entrance.

Your pussy purred, “Oh.” You gasped, feeling a little bit embarrassed. But, Hugh loved it.

“Do you think you can give it to me one more time bub? This time, squirt on my cock?”

#Malavera #hugh jackman smut #hugh jackman #hugh jackman x reader #hugh jackman dirty imagine #logan howlett #logan howlett smut #wolverine #wolverine smut #logan x you #logan howlett x female reader #wolverine x reader #wolverine dirty imagines #logan howlett dirty imagines #hugh jackman dirty imagines

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mushies-stories · 10 months ago

Text

Mates 18+

GhostXSoapXF!Reader

Summary: Alphas Simon and Johnny come across you during your heat. they take you home and show you they have wanted you, just as much as you want them.

Warnings: 18+ smut, 98% porn 2% plot, ABO, double penetration, fingering, oral (both kinda), unprotected sex, mating, creampie's, knotting. readers an omega but I kind of hardly reference it, I think?

Word count: 7661

It wasn’t more than twenty minutes after putting your immediate request for leave in when the first waves of heat started to hit you. Your body was warming and your pussy was getting wet at the smallest sensation. Hastily you grabbed the few things you knew you'd want from your bunk at home and headed down the hallway. Your steps were fast and you were almost put at ease, that was until you smelt the all too familiar scents of Soap and Ghost. It wrapped around you and filled your head with absurd thoughts. You whimpered a little to yourself as you continued walking, hoping he would be gone by the time you made it to the front door.

To your dismay it looked like they didn’t plan on moving, efficiently blocking your exit. Only way out was to go past them. Of course out of the entire building full of mostly betas, it's Ghost and Soap who are in the way of your freedom. The two Alpha’s here that have the strongest effect on your body and mind. You decide to wait behind a pillar. Waiting for them to be gone first was your best option or you might just collapse in the parking lot.

Moments pass and their scent has only gotten stronger. What was your worst fear suddenly coming true when Ghost pops out from around the corner. His eyes show concern as he looks down at you. “Ya okay love?” he asks. Truthfully, he knew the answer to that, they both could smell you the moment you entered your heat. What you also didn’t know was Ghost that had been eyeing you for a while now. The sweet little omega who looked up at him with big eyes, always showing how willing you were to submit to him. He fisted his cock so many times at the thought of knotting your little hole and now seemed like the best opportunity.

He didn’t want to push you. No, he wanted you to tell him, beg him. He knew his scent had an effect on you, knew it would be hard for you not to ask him to help. You’ll be so needy. He sees the way you look at him and his partner. Watching them while they work out together or are fresh from a shower and soap refuses to put a shirt on.

You looked up at him with wide eyes. There was a light blush to your cheeks and stumbled over your words. “Ye-yeah… im fine just umm.. Not feeling well.” You tell him to avert your eyes to the ground. His gaze was too much, you felt so warm under his stair.

“Ya look like you're about to collapse love, let me take ya home.” He insisted, gently reaching a hand out to touch your arm. Even through the fabric of your hoodie your skin tingles where he held you.

You gave him a quick glance with a small sheepish smile. “That's okay… really I can get home on my own.” your voice was still so shaky, uneven enough for you to feel embarrassed.

“Bonnie, really should just let us take ye home.” Another voice chimed in on your other side. Soap was leaning against the other side of the pillar, looking down at you with a crooked smile.

You can't help the wide stare you give him. Both of them being this close to you, enveloping you in their scents by towering around you had your head swimming with lustful ideas. You blink and avert your gaze once again. They were your superiors and you were becoming so dazed with need just standing there in an open space. You didn't want to think about how you’d act in the small space in a car.

“Really it-”

“Y/N.” Ghosts commanding voices cut you off. You raise your eyes to meet him, looking up at him through your thick lashes. His gravelly voice sent chills up your spine, the authority in it making you falter. The sight alone makes me want to push you against the wall and fuck you dumb. “Let’s go, don't need ya crashing and dying trying to get home.” he says.

“What he said, Dove. Just want to make sure ye make it home safe.” Johnny agrees with a nod of his head.

You let out a little sigh and nod back. “Okay.” You concede.

With a hum, Ghosts leads you to the front door, hand on the small of your back to keep you straight. Johnny opens the back door for you and gestures for you to get in. they both took the front, leaving you to suffer in peace in the back seat, taking the spot behind Ghost. With your address in, the drive begins. You looked out the window, a way to distract yourself from the two alphas chatting and bantering in the front. They seemed to be fine letting you take the time to relax and didn't seem to mind when you cracked the window. Anything to help dilute the air that was swirling with a mix of your arousal and the alphas.

You knew they had to smell you, knew this was more than just a simple cold or flu. You weren't sick. But so far neither of them have said anything, instead they help their own conversation while Ghost drives. Rather slowly you notice and he was taking back streets. You were starting to squirm in the back and it was a little hard to breathe normally. You still felt so hot and was only getting worse as the minutes went by.

“Hey, stop over there.” Soap points out a little convenient store. “Gotta get a few things.” he says.

You felt a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach as you pulled into the lot. “Hold on… I really don't feel well, maybe stopping isn’t the best idea right now?” you try to chime in.

With the car now parked, Ghost looks at you through the mirror as Soap hops out with a chuckle. “Why, making a mess back there?” he taunts suddenly. “Yer little pussy can wait a bit longer, can't it?” he asks, a brow raised under his mask.

Your knees draw closer together. His words send more waves of heat to your core. He seemed perfectly fine ignoring it before… but his words are so straight forward and dirty. You give him a little nod and look back down at your lap. “Yes sir…” you mumble. Embarrassment flooding your face.

“Good girl.” his deep, gruff voice paired with the simple praise had you choking back a whimper.

What you don't realize is just how hard it really is for the pair to not climb in back and fuck you. How badly their cocks twitch when they take a deep inhale of your scent. A few very long, excruciating minutes later and Soap is jogging back to the car with a gleeful smile and a bag in hand. Then you were back on your way to solitude.

Another ten minutes and you're pulling up to your flat. You give Ghost a soft thank you before reading for the door handle, only to be stopped by his commanding voice telling you to wait. You watch confused as he gets out of the car and opens your door for you, reaching a hand out for you to take. “I'll walk ya in, you look a little stumbly, love.” he says.

You gently place your hand in his, he tightens his around yours and pulls you a little to stand outside of the car. “I can manage on my own, I swear.” you try to tell him.

He shakes his head and places a hand on the small of your back, dangerously close to your ass. “Oh yeah? Go on then, walk little pup.” he urges you forward with a firm press to your back.

Your knees buckle, everything they do makes you weak and want to get down on your hands and knees for them. Soap is rounding the front of the car and opening his arms to grab you when you feel like you might really buckle to your knees.

“Oh no Bonnie girl. See, just let us help ye.” he scoffs with a chuckle then scoops you into his arm, effortlessly cradling you in his arms. You let out a soft yelp and cling to his body, arms grabbing his shoulders as he begins walking into your building.

This isn't good, you thought. He was so close, too close. You were pressed so firmly against his chest. “Soap… I can walk.” you try protesting again. His scent was filling your lungs, your mind and your cunt were dripping from it. Ghost also followed, his scent never faded and you could make out the rustling of a bag.

“And miss getting to see such a sweet little omega falling about in her heat?” he grins down at you. You can hear Ghost chuckle behind him. “What floor dove?” he asks in front of the elevator.

“9th, apartment 902.” your voice is quiet, face a steaming red by now. Fighting him on id didn’t seem like it was going to get you anywhere. All the teasing and touching was starting to really affect your mind, and judgments. You don’t understand why they were teasing you now, all you knew was it wasn’t helping. The way they looked at you, talked to you. It was making your head spin. The elevator ride was the hardest part so far, being held against Soap while both Alphas crowd the space around you. You have to force yourself not to snuggle into Soaps chest. At your door he doesn't set you down, instead of trying to fight it you just unlock the door and let the brute sized man bring you inside. “Cute place.” He says as he walks you all the way to your bedroom and sets you down on your bed.

Ghost looms in the doorway, watching you and Johnny. They had talked about this more than a few times, both had admitted to having feelings for you a while ago and figured that sharing you, being together with you would be ideal. They were already inseparable so why not share an adorable little omega, one as sweet and perfect as you?

Soap sinks down to his knee in front of you. His hand comes up to hold your thighs. “Anything we can get ye pup?” he asks, with a sweet smile and a little glint in his eye. Your skin was on fire, his hands were so big as they gently rubbed against your thighs. Even through the fabric he could feel how warm you were. The little whimper you could no longer hold in comes out, small and whiney. Soap’s sweet smiling face turns into one of concern, or at least that's what he wanted it to look like. It was hard to hold back the smirk. “Bonnie, ye okay?” he asks, hands now gripping a little into the plushness of your thighs.

You nod and look between the two before lowering your gaze once again. “M’fine… just um.” you want to tell him that his hands are making your brain short-circuit. You also want to beg him to rip your clothes off and stuff you with his cock.

“What is it lovie?” Ghosts' voice draws your eyes back to look at the two of them. You open your mouth to say something but the shame forces you to close it. Both men noticed the way your thighs instinctively rub together though. Your rosy cheeks and glossy eyes. You were just too scared to ask, to dumb from your heat to read the room. Ghost thought, just this once he would take it easy on you. Since it will be the first, first of many heats to come. He had time to tease you later. “Johnny makin yer little cunt drool, that it pup?” he speculates.

The answer was written on your face. You slowly nod your head. The need to be filled finally overshadows your embarrassment for just a moment. Enough for you to let out another shaky whimper and flutter your pretty lashes at the alphas.

Both men hold back groans. Slowly Ghost strides into and across the room until he's taking the open space to your right. Your shoulder is pressed against his chest. The two alphas invade your space completely. “Use yer words pup.” he instructs. His voice makes your body tense a little, deep and gravely.

You let out a soft sigh. “Yes s-sir.” you confirm.

“What do ya need from us, love.” Johnny asks, bringing your focus to him.

You shift a little under his leering eyes. You fight logic in your head, even in heat they would leave you a mess. You wanted it so bad, your whole body ached for them to touch you, please you. It was starting to feel unbearable how much your pussy craved them. “Need…” you think the words over one last time. You needed them and it was too late to run. “Need to be fucked… please, It’s to much.” you manage to whimper out.

Your big pleading eyes make Johnny's cock leak with pre cum, his cock struggles against his cargo pants. Him and Ghost share a look. They have waited to long for this, for you. “Need us to make ya feel better Bonnie?” he coos. His hands travel up your hips to your jeans. “Need yer Alphas to fuck’ye all better, that it little pup?”

“Yes sir.” you say, just barely remembering what Ghost said about using your words.

Johnny chucks as he hooks his fingers into the waistband and tigs them down past your ass. Your little gasp makes him smirk a little more. “Johnny, dove. That's the name you’ll be begging for to make you cum.” he says with a toothy grin. He yanks the rest of your jeans down and tosses them aside, leaving your bottom half in just your panties. His calloused hands grazed against your now exposed flesh, making your breath hitch in your throat.

You never would have thought in a million years you would ever be this exposed to either of them. Let alone both… at the same time. Not like this at least. Not with you a sopping mess for them, their bodies crowding your own and touching your body so intimately. You dreamed of this, taking both of them and now it's becoming a dream come true.

You looked up at Ghost, wondering what he wanted you to call him. You were ready to assume he would prefer to stick with Sir, or Ghost.

He surprises you.

“Simon, lovie. Better know it because you aren't going anywhere.” he growls. It wasn't scary, rather, possessive sounding. A hand trailed around your neck from behind, keeping you in place. He didn't apply any real pressure, just let his fingers graze over your sensitive gland. Your body shivers. Ghost… Simon wanted to mark you, him and Johnny as their own. You give him a needy whimper at the implication. He chuckles in response and raises his free hand to the bottom of his mask. At the same time Simon is pulling his mask above his nose, Johnny is pulling your legs apart and nuzzling his face between them, kissing and nipping at the soft skin of your thighs. You grip the sheets beside you, needing something to ground you a little.

Your body reacts to Johnny, shaking and jerking at every shark nip on your delicate skin. Your eyes are focused on Simon's lips. They were a little scared from battle, but that just made them more enticing. You wanted to feel them, taste them. Simon noticed the way your eyes are trained on them, your own lips pouting softly. Johnny works his way closer to your core, leaving little purple marks along his way. Then Simon is leaning in, holding your head still as he places his lips gently to yours. For Simon, he was being annoyingly slow and gentle, but he wanted to tease you as much as he could before his cock needed to be in you. You whimper into the kiss, melting instantly against him. His lips are a little rough but completely overpowering.

Johnny takes the opportunity while you're distracted to tease your clothed cunt. Almost like he was going to take a bite out of you, his teeth rake over your throbbing core before placing a sweet kiss to it. Your hips jerk against him and when you gasp against Simon's lips he uses the advantage and slips his tongue into your mouth. Johnny slides your panties down in one fluid motion. His hands slide down to grope as much of your ass as he can get and slides back between your thighs, letting your legs hang over his shoulder.

Simon pulls away to watch your pretty little face crumble when his partner's tongue flattens against your cunt and licks up your slick, tasting you and groaning against your heat. He chuckles and places a hand on your stomach to help keep you still while Johnny starts lapping at your cunt. “Awe lovie, ya look a little warm.” You nod dumbly at him, Johnny's tongue killing any to form whole words. You were burning and your body was already covered in a sheen of sweat. He hums in response then starts to lift your shirt up, dragging his fingertips up your stomach. “Arms up.” he tells you. Lazily you lift your hands above your head and shiver when the fabric is stripped from your body. “Good girl.” he brings you back into a heated kiss, eating your whimpers and moans from the pleasure between your legs.

Johnny's eyes grow darker, watching Simon undress up until you are left in only your bra. His massive hands groping and pawing at your breasts, making you mewl while his tongue explores every crevice of your mouth.

With a groan he pulls back, causing you to let out sounds of protest. Simon releases your lips to find Jonny grinning up at you both sheepishly. “Sorry, feelin a little left out, how'bout ye let me have a taste?.” he looks up at you with big eyes and pouts playfully.

The way he looks between your thighs like that, big shoulders holding you up for him so well. You release a shaky breath; one you didn't realize you were holding. There was so much happening and now this bit of calm made your head spin. Simon's hand on your breast was only just a gentle massage now. You get lost in his big blue eyes, all thoughts swimming away fast.

Until a hand on your back urges you forward, tapping it a few times. “Go on pup, taste yourself on his lips.” he encourages you.

You nod and lean forward; your hands reach out to hesitantly hold his face as you slide your swollen lips against his. Moist and covered in your slick. You moan pathetically along with his guttural groan. Much like Simon, he didn't hesitate when exploring your mouth. The kiss was short, Johnny pulling away while licking his lips. “Perfect Bonnie, such a sweet girl for us.” Johnny praised you. “Now how about we really make ye feel better, how’s that sound?” he asks, watching your eyes light up as you nod. He grins at you then Simon. ”Ready Si?” he asks.

Simons grunts in response, retracting his hands from your body and goes to sit against the wall, sitting you between his legs. Legs still manage to hang slightly off your full-bed sideways. You want to protest when Johnny slides your legs off and back down to the floor. You really do until he reaches behind you and swiftly unclips your bra. “Can give me a show later, right Bonnie?” he winks and throws the garment behind him. He palms your breasts, one in each hand and massages them, squeezed them. Then he takes one nipple into his mouth and sucks hard.

Your back arches and your breasts are pushed into his face more, making him grunt in response. He bites you gently, rolling your sensitive bud between his teeth. “Go-ood… feels so good Johnny.” you force the words out and barely manage to control your moans.

Johnny’s cock twitched hard in his pants. Your pathetic attempt at forming thoughts was cute, he wanted to see you like that on his cock. A mumbling moaning mess, whimpering and crying to cum over and over. He pulls back to see that Simon already has his cock out. He chuckles and shakes his head. “Looks like someone's getting impatient.” he retorts.

Simon ignored the resort. “Come’er pup, hands and knees.” Simon instructs, patting the open space between his legs when you look back at him. You look at Johnny who nods. You wanted to listen to both of them, needing them both to tell you it's okay. Shakily you shift and crawl fully onto the bed and sit on your knees between his legs. Your eyes traveled down to his cock and your heart started pounding even harder. He was huge, thick and long and… fucking thick. You had a thought that his knot might actually send you to the afterlife. Simon grabs your chin with one strong hand and leads you to his lap, your face placed right next to his cock. “Won't expect ya so take it down your throat just yet, dont worry lovie. Already to dumb with need to concentrate, aint ya pup?.” he chuckles, it's deep and heavy, making your pussy clench around nothing.

You nod and wiggle your hips a little, your ass now fully presented to Johnny. He yanks your hips back, just enough so your feet are on the edge and his arms can rest on the sides of your calves. Finally situated Johnny wastes no time in diving in, lapping at your slick folds and making you a whimpering needy miss in seconds. He teases your clit with little flicks using the tip of his tongue.

“Please, Johnny.” you whine, needing to cum. You were so pent up now with how much they have been toying with your body, your mind.

A large rough hand softly stroked your bare back, inching closer to your ass with each stroke. “What is it lovie, what do ya need, tell us what ya need pup.” Simon coos. He sounded so gentle, almost too sweet to be Simon. You let out a small squeak when he palms one of your cheeks. With a firm grip he forced your ass up a bit. Johnny groans, it was only a small adjustment, but he feels like he can reach more of you. He swears he could stay between your thighs forever, devouring your perfect cunt. Simon chuckles, his partner was never good at taking things slow. Not when a pretty thing like you was making such sweet noises for them after all.

You whimper and peak up at him through your lashes. Your lips are parted and your panting right against his angry cock. Leaking pre cum and twitching at the sight of you. “Mm-more~ please, need it so bad.” you manage to choke out through a moan. Your hand softly wraps around the base of his cock. Your fingers are just barely making it around, he was so thick. Precum was covering your fingers already and all you wanted to do was a taste. So, you bring your fingers to your lips and suck on them, taste him and moaning.

Simon can't help but groan at the sight. “Greedy little thing.” He taunts then directs his attention to the other male. “Johnny, beside ya in the bag.” he tells him. Johnny groans and rolls his eyes while pulling back. You whine and shiver at the loss of pleasure again. Tears swelled in the corners of your eyes. “Sshh pup, just a moment.” He ensures you. “We gotta take care of ya, make sure you can take us both, yeah?” he says, stroking your ass.

Your brain blankets when you hear him say the words. Both… you weren't sure how this was going to go but this, being completely stuffed full with both of them? Your pussy fluttered at the thought. You could feel your slick dripping onto the sheets below, making a mess of your bed.

You can’t help but simply nod dumbly up at him.

“Here.” Johnny says and tosses a small bottle next to you that Simon swiped up instantly. He doesn't return his mouth to your cunt, instead he slides two fingers through your folds. “Pretty little pussy baby, tastes s’good.” he praises. You can't focus on Simon who's opening the bottle, too busy focusing on feeling Johnny's skilled fingers tease your clit and push against your little entrance. His middle fingers dips in, just a little before repeating the action, adding more each time. You mewl at the new sensation, his fingers bigger than your own and reaching deeper than yours were able to.

Soon you feel the lube running down to your puckered hole and Simon's own fingers reach behind you and going right to your ass. “Ready lovie?” he asks, messages around your little hole with one finger. Johnny was no longer teasing you as he added another finger, rocking them into you at a steady pace. When you look back at Simon, his mask is off, hair sweaty and flat. Your pussy flutters around Soaps fingers. He was beautiful you thought, scars and all. Your hips jerk a little and you whine pathetically at him. It was so hot, your veins felt like lava ran through them. You leaned up on one elbow while your other hand took a better grip of his cock. You angle your head and his shaft so you could dart your tongue out and lick tentatively at the tip of his cock. You hum and wrap your lips around the tip of his leaky head. Your eyes close, relishing in the taste of his arousal. Simon's body reacts and his cock twitches in your hold, sending more precum right to your tongue. “Fuck'n hell love, just can't wait, can ya?” he says, lips curving into a grin. One big finger pushed its way into your tight entrance, pushing in until he was deep in your ass.

Your eyes fly open and your lips part to let out a gasped squeal. “Si-Simon!” you yelp again when he pulls back and slides back in.

Johnny Chuckles behind you, hot breath fanning your cunt. “Oh dove, this is just the beginnin.” he tells you before placing his mouth back on your pussy, sucking and nipping your sensitive clit. His fingers work your pussy open. Adding a third and stretching you even more at the same time Simon adds a second. Your body slumps against Simon with your ass raised for them. His stiff cock is so close but you just could touch it properly. The pleasure they give you as they work their fingers into your tight holes, filling you up and eating you all at once; your brain is breaking and fast. Flowing until the only thing you can think of is chasing your high, sticking your ass up and giving yourself to these two alphas.

Simon added his third finger and you felt your whole body convulse. You felt the knot in the pit of your stomach tightening, burning and aching. “Please! Gonna c-cum, Simon, Joh-nny!” you whine into Simon's lap, hands grasping at the bottom of his shirt.

They both managed to find the same rhythm, thrusting their fingers in sync into you at a blissful pace. Johnny swirls his tongue around your puffy bud before sucking hard. “C’mon pretty pup, cum for us. Cum on Johnny’s tongue.” Simon encourages you. He pushes a few stray strands of hair out of your face, wanting a clear view of you coming undone.

Just a few more delicious curls of Johnny's fingers and you're a loud and moaning mess for them. Your holes pulse and clench around their fingers. They had teased you so much and you were so sensitive, your slick runs right onto Johnny’s tongue and he groans against your messy cunt. “Fu…fu-ck! Mmmfuck s’to good!” you whine out, body jerking as you try and keep still. You press your face firmer against Simon. Your nails rip little holes into the bottom of his shirt and you cum hard. Your body buzzed with pleasure and after shock and your head felt dizzy. Simon and Johnny helped you ride out your high but when Simon finally pulled his thick digits from your ass, Johnny only removed his fingers before he moved to lap at your still dripping hole. “Joh-Johnny, to much! To sensit-AH!” you gasp when Johnny shoves his tongue into you, tasting your sweet release.

Johnny doesn’t stop, he growls at your pleas to stop and shoves his face deeper. Your knees shake as you feel another orgasm building. “He's just as greedy as you little pup, loves yer little pussy already.” Simon smiles sweetly down at you, watching you lose all focus again as his partner devours your cunt. “Johnny’s gonna make ya cum one more time, alright pup? Then we'll make sure yer little holes are nice and stuffed.” he says, stroking your cheek with the rough pad of his thumb. The only response you can give him is a lazy nod and a breathy moan. You notice a thick stream of precum drizzling down Simon's shaft and you try to reach out for his cock, almost dragging your upper half up enough to lick it up. You get to taste only a little of him before his hand wraps around your throat, fluidly locking you in place just out of reach from his throbbing angry length. “No more, keep teasing me and ya won't be able to walk tomorrow.” he threatens, knowing that if he let you continue he would cum way too fast. Watching you drool and pant over his cock was enough to make him want to cover your pretty little face with his seed.

Johnny's tongue is deep and his finger is circling your throbbing bud mercilessly. Your hips jerk back, pushing your cunt against his mouth even more, causing Johnny to growl into your heat and fasten his pace. “Mmm.. fuck.” you mumble, walls starting to spasm again, your legs shake in his strong hold. He made sure to keep your hips up for him. “Cum.. fuck! M’cumming!” you gush right into his mouth and just like the first one he lapped at your flowing juices.

When he’s satisfied, he helps guide your hips gently to the bed. “There ye go sweet girl, so good for us aren't ye?” Johnny praises, rubbing the side of your hip and sitting next to you to get a good look at your face. His eyes darken with desire when he sees you're blown out pupils and the way you still struggle to catch your breath. You were perfect, he knew you would be the perfect girl for them. Johnny dragged his shirt over his body and tossed it. He smirks a little when your eyes scan his body, your thighs rub together when you spot his bulge. He reaches his arms out and wraps them around your body, pulling you from Simon's lap, making you realize his now torn shirt. “C’mere dove. Why don't ye help me out a little?” he places you on his lap, legs straddling his thighs.

Your eyes travel down to his crotch, his bulge pressing against his pants. Your fingers found the button and zipper, doing quick work of releasing the pressure he was feeling. Your eyes widen a little when your hand reaches under his boxers and feel just how big he was. Slipping his cock free, your assumptions were correct. He was huge, like Simon. Maybe not as long but about the same thickness overall. Your small hands wrapped around the base and started slowly pumping his cock.

Johnny lets out a breathy chuckle. His cock twitched furiously in your palms. “Fuckin eager aint she?” he hisses. Watching you gather his precum and licking it from your fingers. Johnny groans and brings your hands back to his cock, wrapping one large hand around your own and squeezing himself with you. He helps guide your hands up and down, showing you how he likes it. “See pup, just like that. Makin me feel s’good.” he drawls.

Beside you Simon shifts off the bed and stands behind you. You hear the sound of his shirt dropping to the floor. Before he leaned down so his lips could nip at your neck. Hands snake around your body to grope at your breasts. “S’enough of that, ya two.” he commands. His hands travel along your body and pry you away from Johnny, lifting you up with large hands on your thighs. You and Johnny both whine at Simon. “Behave, cock’s fucking aching to fuck ya pup. Not watch you blow your load in her hands.” Simon teases with a smirk and rubs the tip of his cock at your back hole.

You whimper as you lean back against Simon. Your hands reach out for Johnny, needing him to hold onto while you're presented for him like this. Your legs held spread in the air, leaned back against Simon's broad chest, arms outstretched for him. How could he ever deny that? Looking at him so wontedly and desperate for their attention. “Oh Bonnie, look at ye.” he purrs, standing up and stepping up to you. Your arms instantly wrap around his neck, pulling his hips between your thighs. He helps hold you up so Simon can open the bottle of lube and rub it along his shaft. Johnny grinds his cock along your puffy folds at the same time Simon rubs his leaky tip at your other hole. “Ready pup, gunna need ye’ta relax for us.” He says, making sure you hear him.

You nod and take a slow breath, letting your body rest in their hold. “M’ready, please.” you beg, voice going soft and sultry.

Simon’s hands take hold of your thighs again. Holding you in place, he pushes his hips forward, bullying the tip into your pukes hole. “There we go love, going to be so good for us.” he says with a low growl. Your brows knit together as you try and stay calm, letting out shaky breaths the more he presses into you, the lube only doing so much. Simon was by no means so small. About halfway you couldn't suppress the loud whimper that escapes you. You feel his lips on your neck, his hot breath fanning over your skin while Johnny brings a hand to your pussy, finding your clit and messaging it slowly, helping you relax while Simon pushes deeper and deeper, trenching your ass open. “Fuck… so fuckin tight.” Simon nips your shoulder, holding back from sinking his teeth into your neck, claiming you right there as he bottoms out in your unused hole. “See lovie, knew ya could take me.” he kisses up your neck and your head leans back against his shoulder.

You're panting and still desperately holding onto Johnny, fingers gripping the side of his neck, his shoulders, any way to keep him close. “Big. Simon so big." Your speech is broken, simple. Your brain is all hazed, articulating anything other than the basics.

Simon keeps you there, impaled on his cock while Johnny lines himself up with your pussy, nudging that entrance in warning of what's coming. “Ready for another one, pup?” Johnny can't help but laugh at your dumb little nod, pathetic whines of ‘more’ and ‘please’. “Alright little one, hold still and breathe.” he tells you and waits for another nod. Then he pushed his hips forward, not taking as much time as Simon, already forcing half of his cock into your mushy hole.

Your nails dig into his skin, clawing at his neck and shoulders, leaving marks behind. “Ah! Fu… S’to fast.” you slur breathlessly, the wind having been knocked out of you.

Johnny chuckles softly and presses his face against your chest. “Sorry dove, I just couldn’t wait to be inside ye.” he whispers against your warm skin. He slows down however, not wanting to hurt you.

Both alphas kiss along your bare skin. Rough lips attack your shoulder, chest and neck. Simon focused on nipping and sucking a pretty dark bruise into the side of your neck while Johnny was busy leaving little marks all over your chest. Slowly he rocked the rest of his length into you until he also came to a stop. They pull back and look down at you, blown pupils and mouth hung open a little. You lean back against Simon's chest, fingers gripping into Johnny's shoulders. The three of you take a moment to breathe. Everything felt so tight from being stuffed with both of them. They take up all of the room inside your little holes.

Once they felt your grip on their cock soften up they began moving, slowly thrusting in and out of you at the same time, letting your body get used to them. You gasp and whine with each thrust, feeling your walls clench and mold to the cocks stuffing themselves deep in your core. “S’good, feels… mm so fucking good.” you babble, getting lost in their rhythm. You felt like you were in heaven, squished between two alphas you had been pining after for so long.

Simon held your thighs while Johnny's hands gripped at your sides, angling your hips in the best position for them. “Doin so good for us Bonnie, takin us both so fucking well.” he grunts, feeling your pussy flutter and clench around him. “Gunna take our knots, let us claim ye. Want to be our good little pup, right lass?” Johnny whispers, leaning into your neck a little and nips at your sweet spot.

Your head was spinning. Johnny was starting to press his thick knot to your little hole, causing you to whimper and shake in their arms. “Pl-please! Need it please!” you choked out with a frantic nod. “I want to be yours please, all yours.” Another orgasm was knotting quickly in your stomach, So fast your brain could hardly keep up. You really tried to speak, tried to tell them what was happening, but the words were lost. Your eyes squeezed shut and your nails clawed into Johnny's shoulders. All it took was Johnny finally popping his fat knot into your little pussy for your walls to furiously around their cocks. The boys groan around you. Johnny’s teeth found the spot that had your body arching into him and sank his teeth in. Simon watched as you both got lost in each other. Johnny’s teeth claiming you while his cock twitched deep in your pussy. He pumps you full of cum, making your body shake and chest heave. The sounds you both made were so needy and pathetic, it made Simon’s cock throb.

“Fuck, just like that love.” Simon groans into your shoulder, opposite Johnny whose teeth were still sunk into you. Simon’s fingers dig into your skin and so did Johnny’s. You could feel the little purple bruises already and it just turned you on even more. “Cummin s’well for us pup, pussy begging for our knots, isn't it?” he tried to sound more condescending, teasing, but with his heavy panting and groans rumbling in his chest he was clearly just as desperate as you were.

Only a loud choked moan that turned into overstimulated yelps came from you. Simon slowed down to a soft, slow rocking pace. Keeping you full but allowing Johnny and you to come down a little from your high’s. Your eyes flutter to open while you catch your breath. If you weren’t obviously sandwiched between two massive bodies and impaled on their cocks, you could swear you were floating. Johnny finally released your neck and started kissing along your neck and licked and lapped at your freshly marked skin. It helped soothe the burning that came from being claimed.

“So good, Bonnie.” Johnny’s voice was quiet, his eyes were half lidded as he looked at you. If he looked drunk from sex, then you must look like a complete mess you thought. “Got one more in ye, right lass, one more for Simon?” he asks sweetly, nuzzling into your cheek and neck while his cock stays perfectly sheathed in your pussy.

Your head pulls to the side a bit so you can get a glance at Simon. You should feel his knot, ready to push inside your ass. You could see the need to sink his teeth into your neck and your body responded accordingly. Arching your ass as much as you could and giving him a little whimper. “Want it, Simon please, need you too.” you begged.

He can’t help the growl he gives you when he starts to thrust back into you. You and Johnny groan simultaneously at the pressure. “Since ya asked me so sweetly.” he chuckles breathless. His knot slammed against your stressed hole. Simon Nudged Johnny's head away with his own, he needed to claim you too, needed his teeth to tear into you and make you his too. Johnny leaned his head back and watched as your arms hung loosely against his forearms, barely holding on. Pretty eyes rolled back and mouth hung open. He brought a hand down between your legs to circle your sensitive bud. Simon felt your walls flutter around him, begging for his knot. A large, rough hand came up to grope at your breasts, Simon pinched your nipples and grazed his teeth over your tender gland. Your body began to tense, legs becoming shaky in the men's hands. “Gonna cum love? Gonna take my knot and cum all over Johnny's cock again?” he cooed against your neck before nipping at the skin, teasing you with his mark.

All you could do was whimper half formed words and wiggle your ass a little for him. You looked up at him with lust blown eyes and a silent plea.

Johnny leaned down to kiss your chest. “C’mon Si, let her cum again, she feels so fucking good, I need to cum again, just one more time.” Johnny begged against your chest, now replacing Simon's hands with his own mouth, abandoning your clit. He’s rutting his hips into you again, chasing another release. The only response Simon gave to his pussy drunk partner was a grunt and a nod, amused at how needy he was being. He replaced Johnny and focused on your clit, rubbing it in quick circles.

You were a mess for them, panting and moaning, begging with what little words you could for Simon's knot and more of Johnny’s cum. It was when Simon let his teeth finally sink into your neck, encompassing Johnny’s that had you seeing stars. A little symbol to stake his claim to the both of you and it had you shivering and crying at how blissful it felt. As you came both men held you firm, legs spread in their hands and Simon finally bullied his thick knot in, stretching you out almost painfully. You clawed with what little strength you had left at Johnny’s arms. Intens pressure turned into added flames once his knot was finally in, filling you up so completely the three of you shuddered at the tightness. In no time at all both men were filling your holes, coating you with their cum and growling into you. You felt like you could hardly breathe, your orgasm lasting so long you thought you might really pass out.

Your head was leaning back on Simon’s shoulder when he gently pulled his head away from your neck. The room was filled with heavy panting and your sore whimpers. You can feel Johnny"s cum leaking out around his knot and dripping to the floor, you knew if you looked down you would be embarrassed at the mess you all made. Johnny litters little kisses to your chest and shoulders, his thumbs rubbing your thighs. “Did s’good Bonnie.” he praised you and you gave him a small smile in response.

Simon nuzzled the side of your head before placing a kiss on your temple, you leaned into his touch. “Just a little longer and we’ll get ya all cleaned up, love.” he told you. His hand came around to your tummy, feeling the bulge of Johnny’s cock and all the cum he has stuffed in you.

Johnny grunts. “Si, if ye turn me on again, our girl might get scared of how much I can't resist er’pretty pussy.” he warns.

You let out a little chuckle and your walls flutter around them. You were still so cock drunk that you’d probably let him take as many times, without complaint.

A little slap to your thigh brings your attention to the man pressed to your back. “Watch it, yer going to need a little more training before ya can handle everything we can give ya.” you can't help the little pout on your lips and when you give him a little whine. “No pouting, you’ll thank me in the morning.” he tells you with a pointed look.

You and Johnny both sigh a little but conceded, Simon was clearly the rule maker here.

The next morning, squished between two sweaty and heavy alphas, you were thankful that Simon was the brains. Your body ached, your head was still a little hazy thanks to them being there and you were hungry. Thankfully you had two adoring alphas to look after you during your heat from now on. Two mates, your mates.

FIN~

this took a fuckin minute y'all's. but I hope some people enjoyed it!

#COD #call of duty #call of duty imagine #call of duty x reader #tf141 #tf 141 x reader #tf141 imagine #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley imagine #john soap mactavish #john soap mctavish x reader #john soap mctavish imagine #ghost x reader smut #soap x reader #abo #cod abo #soap imagine #ghost imagine

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heejake-hoon · 6 months ago

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Synopsis: you made Jake a little jealous, and now you have to face the consequences.

Tags: smut, mdni, name calling (cumslut, fuckdoll...), unprotected sex, hair pulling, light choking?, kind of possessive Jake.

note: not proof read, also rushed

You gasp as Jake slams you against the wall, crowding into your space until you're enveloped by his heat, his scent, his sheer overwhelming presence. His hand fists in your hair, yanking your head back sharply to bare the column of your throat to his darkened gaze.

"You've been acting like a little brat all night," he growls, nose skimming along your jawline. "Teasing me, flirting with other guys, making me fucking crazy with jealousy. Is this what you wanted, hmm? Wanted me to snap? To put you in your place?"

His other hand comes up to wrap around your throat, fingers flexing warningly. Your pulse flutters wildly against his palm and you swallow hard, mouth going dry at the dangerous glint in his eyes.

"Jake, I-" you start, but he cuts you off with a harsh squeeze to your windpipe, just hard enough to make you light-headed.

"Shut up," he snarls, free hand gripping roughly your breast through your shirt. "You don't get to play coy now, Y/N. Not after you spent the whole fucking night acting like a shameless little cocktease.” he squeezes the flesh in his hand harder making you moan “No, you wanted this. Wanted me to remind you who you belong to, didn't you? Wanted me to stake my fucking claim?"

You whimper, knees going weak as he rolls your nipple between unforgiving fingers. Slowly, deliberately, you nod, holding his dark gaze with your own. Something like triumph flashes across Jake's face and your stomach swoops in anticipation.

"That's what I thought," he says lowly, leaning in until his lips brush the shell of your ear. "You're mine, Y/N. This body is mine.” he tugs on ur nipple making you whimper in pain and arousal. “And I think it's time I reminded you of that fact."

Suddenly, he's spinning you around, shoving you face-first against the wall and yanking your skirt up around your waist. You yelp as he rips your panties clean off, the delicate lace giving way easily under his impatient hands.

"Fuck, look at you," Jake groans, trailing teasing fingers through your dripping folds. "Already so wet for me, baby. So desperate for my cock. I bet you'd let me fuck you right here, where anyone could walk by and see what a needy little slut you are, huh?"

"Yes," you gasp out, arching back into his touch shamelessly. "Yes, Jake, please, want you so bad-"

He chuckles darkly, the sound sending shivers racing down your spine. "Oh, I know you do, sweetheart. And I'm going to give it to you. I'm going to fuck this greedy cunt so hard you forget your own name...."

Jake's fingers wrap around your throat from behind, cutting off your air supply and making your head swim. Your cunt clenches hard around nothing, a broken moan escaping your lips as he notches the thick head of his cock against your entrance.

"Gonna feel so good choking on my dick," he rasps, rolling his hips torturously slow, barely breaching you. "Gonna look so pretty with tears in your eyes, fighting for every breath while I split you open. You want that, baby? Want me to wreck this pussy, want me to make you see fucking stars?"

"Please," you whimper, scrabbling for purchase against the wall as he drives into you harder, deeper. "Jake, fuck, need it, need you to- ah!"

Your words dissolve into a high, keening cry as he bottoms out, pushing the air from your lungs and making you roll your eyes. Jake sets a brutal pace, hips snapping against your ass as he rails you, fingers tightening around your windpipe until you're dizzy with it, until your lungs burn and your cunt throbs and you can't tell up from down.

"That's it, take it," he grits out through clenched teeth, angling his thrusts to hit that spot inside you that makes your toes curl. "Fucking take my cock like the desperate little cumslut you are. Gonna stuff you so full of my dick you'll be feeling it for days.” He pulled away until only his tip was inside before slamming hard into you, earning a small cry from you as you started to lose it. “fuckkk, gonna paint this pussy white, plug you up and send you out there dripping with my fucking spend."

You keen brokenly, walls starting to flutter around him as black spots crowd the edges of your vision. You're right on the knife's edge of too much, the pleasure bordering on pain as Jake fucks into you relentlessly, choking you within an inch of your life.

"Jake," you rasp, scrabbling behind you to grab his wrist, nails biting into his skin. "Jake, 'm gonna come, gonna-"

"Do it," he snarls, doubling his efforts, slamming into you so hard your feet nearly leave the ground. "Come on my cock, Y/N. Fucking soak me, let me feel you shake apart-"

His words, his touch, the sweet ache of your lungs screaming for air - it's all too much. With a silent scream, you shatter, clamping down around him rhythmically as ecstasy crashes over you in blinding waves.

Jake swears in aw, hips stuttering as your cunt milks him for all he's worth. A few more erratic thrusts and he's coming too, muffling his groan against your shoulder as he spills deep inside you, marking you from the inside out.

Slowly, carefully, he loosens his grip on your throat, letting you suck in greedy lungfuls of air. You slump against the wall, knees giving out, but Jake is there to catch you, strong arms banding around your waist and holding you steady.

"I've got you," he murmurs, pressing soft kisses to your hair, your temple, your cheek. "You did so well for me, baby. Took everything I gave you like a champ. My good girl, my perfect little fuckdoll..."

You can only whimper in response, too dazed and dick drunk to form words. Jake chuckles, low against your skin, as he gathers you into his arms and carries you to the bedroom.

He lays you out on the sheets almost reverently, crawling over you and peppering your face with tender kisses. "I love you," he says quietly, smoothing your hair back from your sweat-damp brow. "I love you so fucking much, Y/N. You drive me crazy in the best possible way."

You hum contentedly, looping your arms around his neck and tugging him down into a slow, sweet kiss. "I love you too," you murmur against his lips. "Even when you're being a jealous caveman."

Jake grins, unrepentant. "Hey, I warned you when we started dating that I was the possessive type. Not my fault you didn't believe me."

You roll your eyes fondly, trailing idle fingers down his spine. "Mm, well, maybe I should tease you more often then. If this is the result..."

Jake's eyes flash with heat and he nips at your bottom lip in admonishment. "Careful what you wish for, brat," he warns playfully. "Keep it up and I really will fuck you in public next time. Bend you over the hood of the car and eat your cunt right there in the parking lot where anyone could see."

#enhypen #enhypen jake #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen smut #enhypen jake smut #enhypen jake x reader #enhypen jake imagines #jake enhypen #sim jake #sim jaeyun #jake sim #jake smut #jake x reader #enhypen jaeyun #jaeyun imagines #jaeyun x reader

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chosok-amo · 6 months ago

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JJK HEADCANON : THEIR REACTION WHEN THEY SEE YOU WEARING THEIR SHIRT

satoru gojo, suguru geto, nanami kento, ryomen sukuna, toji Fushiguro

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!!!

MASTERLIST!!

𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎

As Satoru Gojo opens the door to his home, he's greeted by a sight that instantly brings a smile to his face. There you are, standing in the living room, wearing his oversized shirt that drapes over your frame, looking incredibly cute and comfy. The shirt's sleeves are rolled up just enough to reveal your wrists, and the collar slightly slips off your shoulder, adding a touch of casual allure. His eyes light up with delight as he takes in the sight of you, your hair slightly tousled as if you've just finished a nap or lounging around. There's a playful glint in his eyes as he leans against the door frame, his usual confident demeanor softened by the warmth of seeing you so relaxed and content in his presence. "Satoru," you say, looking up with a mischievous grin, "Do you mind if I borrow this? It's so comfy." He chuckles softly, crossing the room to stand in front of you. "You look absolutely adorable," he replies, his voice low and teasing. He reaches out to gently tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. "You can borrow it anytime you want," he continues, his gaze lingering on you with undeniable affection. "But I think I prefer seeing you in my shirt. It suits you." You blush slightly at his words, feeling his warmth enveloping you as he pulls you closer, wrapping his arms around you in a tender embrace. In that moment, surrounded by his scent and the comfort of his shirt, you realize there's nowhere else you'd rather be than in his arms, feeling cherished and loved.

𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎

As Suguru Geto enters his home, his expression shifts from the usual seriousness to a rare moment of surprise and intrigue. There you are, standing in his living room, wearing his shirt that fits snugly on your frame, the sleeves rolled up just right to expose your wrists. The shirt's collar is slightly open, revealing a glimpse of your neck and collarbones, adding an unexpected allure to your appearance.

His eyes narrow slightly as he takes in the sight, a faint smirk playing on his lips. You turn towards him, a hint of amusement in your eyes as you meet his gaze. "Hey, Suguru," you greet casually, a playful tone in your voice. "Hope you don't mind me borrowing this. It's quite comfortable."

He steps closer, his gaze sweeping over you appreciatively. "I must say, you wear it quite well," Suguru remarks, his voice low and smooth, tinged with a touch of admiration. His usually composed demeanor seems momentarily softened by the sight of you in his shirt, looking both relaxed and captivating.

"You have a way of making even my clothes look better," he continues, his tone teasing yet sincere. He reaches out to lightly brush a stray strand of hair away from your face, his touch gentle yet assertive. His eyes hold a subtle intensity as he meets your gaze, his admiration for you evident in his expression.

"You're full of surprises," Suguru murmurs, a faint smile playing on his lips. "But I don't mind this one bit." He leans in closer, his presence enveloping you as he wraps his arms around you in a confident yet tender embrace. In that moment, you feel a sense of warmth and reassurance, knowing that despite his enigmatic nature, Suguru Geto has a softer side reserved just for you.

And as the evening unfolds, you both savor these quiet moments together, each appreciating the unexpected bond that continues to grow between you, fueled by mutual respect and a deepening connection.

𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎

After a long day at work, Nanami Kento finally steps into his home, quietly closing the door behind him. The weight of the day’s challenges begins to lift as he makes his way through the house, his thoughts filled with anticipation of seeing you. When he reaches the doorway of your shared bedroom, the sight that greets him makes him pause. There you are, lying on the bed in his blue shirt, which is slightly too big for you, its hem reaching down to your thighs. The shirt's collar is a bit askew, and one sleeve has slipped off your shoulder. You're almost asleep, having waited for him for too long, your eyelids fluttering as you fight to stay awake. Nanami's heart softens at the sight, a rare, gentle smile touching his lips. He quietly approaches the bed, careful not to wake you. "You must have been so tired," he murmurs softly to himself, his voice barely above a whisper. He kneels beside the bed, taking a moment to simply watch you. There's a serene look on your face, your features relaxed in slumber. Gently, he reaches out to brush a strand of hair away from your forehead, his touch tender and filled with affection. The feel of his fingers against your skin makes you stir slightly, and you slowly open your eyes to see him gazing at you with an expression so full of love and warmth. "Kento," you murmur sleepily, a small, tired smile forming on your lips. "You're finally home." "Yes, I am," he replies, his voice low and soothing. "I'm sorry for keeping you waiting so long." He leans in to press a soft kiss to your forehead, the touch reassuring and comforting. "It's okay," you whisper, your voice tinged with the remnants of sleep. "I wanted to see you before I fell asleep." Nanami smiles again, his eyes filled with a mix of gratitude and tenderness. "You look beautiful in my shirt," he says softly, his hand gently resting on your cheek. "But you should get some rest now." He carefully lifts the covers and helps you settle comfortably into bed. As he joins you, pulling you close into his embrace, you feel the steady beat of his heart against your back. His presence is a balm, a source of unwavering support and love. "Goodnight," you murmur, your voice fading as you drift back into sleep, feeling safe and cherished in his arms. "Goodnight," he whispers back, pressing a final kiss to the top of your head. And as the night wraps around you both, Nanami holds you close, grateful for the moments of peace and love that make all the hard work worthwhile.

𝐑𝐘𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀

After a night of mayhem and mischief, Ryomen Sukuna finally returns to his domain, the air still tingling with the remnants of his dark aura. As he strides into the living area, his crimson eyes catch sight of you lounging on the couch, engrossed in a TV show, wearing his robe. You look up from the screen, noticing his arrival. The robe, oversized on you, drapes loosely over your frame, hinting at your figure beneath. Your expression lights up with a mixture of surprise and amusement upon seeing him, though you're clearly comfortable in his attire. Sukuna pauses in his steps, his imposing presence momentarily softened by the sight of you. A rare smirk curls his lips as he approaches, his gaze sweeping over you with a mix of possessiveness and intrigue. "Well, well," he drawls in a deep, velvety voice, "What do we have here?" You meet his gaze with a playful glint in your eyes. "I hope you don't mind me borrowing this," you reply casually, gesturing to the robe. "It's so cozy." He chuckles lowly, standing before you with an air of authority and allure. "Cozy, huh?" he muses, his tone laced with amusement. "You wear it surprisingly well." You can't help but smile at his compliment, feeling a rush of both excitement and nervousness under his intense gaze. His presence, though formidable, carries a strange magnetism that draws you closer to him. Sukuna steps closer, reaching out to gently brush his fingers against the collar of the robe, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. "Next time," he murmurs huskily, leaning in closer until his breath brushes against your ear, "I might just have to keep you in my robe." Your cheeks flush at his suggestive words, but there's a thrill of excitement that courses through you at his proximity. Despite his menacing reputation, there's an undeniable chemistry between you, a tension that neither of you can deny. "Maybe you should join me," you suggest, unable to resist teasing him back, your voice laced with playful defiance. Sukuna's smirk widens, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of amusement and something deeper. "Oh, I intend to," he replies smoothly, his hand slipping around your waist to pull you closer to him. And as the TV show continues to play in the background, forgotten in the heat of the moment, you both revel in the dangerous thrill of being together, knowing that in each other's presence, nothing else matters but the intoxicating pull that binds you both.

𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈 𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎

Toji Fushiguro arrives home after a long day, his demeanor as rugged and aloof as ever. As he steps into the living room, his eyes catch sight of you wearing his clothes—a casual shirt that fits loosely over your frame and a pair of comfortable sweatpants. The sight brings a rare, genuine smile to his lips, softening his typically stern expression. "Well, well," he says in his deep, gravelly voice, his tone surprisingly warm. "Looks like someone's made themselves at home." You turn to face him, a playful glint in your eyes as you stand up to greet him. "I hope you don't mind," you say with a teasing smile. "Your clothes are just so cozy." Toji chuckles softly, his eyes lingering on you with undeniable affection. He closes the distance between you, his presence commanding yet surprisingly gentle. "You look good in my clothes," he admits gruffly, his hand reaching out to gently cup your cheek. A blush spreads across your cheeks at his compliment, feeling the warmth of his touch. "Thank you," you reply softly, feeling a rush of affection towards him. He pulls you into a warm embrace, his arms strong and protective around you. "Come here," he murmurs, his voice low and soothing. "Let's get you comfortable." You follow him to the couch, sinking into its soft cushions as he wraps his arms around you. The feeling of being held by him is both comforting and exhilarating, his closeness enveloping you like a shield against the world. As you settle into each other's arms, the outside world fades away, leaving only the quiet intimacy between you and Toji. You rest your head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. His fingers trace soothing patterns on your back, grounding you in his presence. In that moment, you realize how much his simple gesture means—his acceptance, his warmth, and his unspoken promise to always be there for you. Wrapped in his embrace, you feel safe, loved, and utterly content.

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