#lower back into my thigh down to my knee it's all pain

[tuiccim]

Listen to Your Instructors (Part 2)

Pairing: Bi!Loki x Bi!Bucky Barnes x Female, Inexperienced Reader

Kinks: MMF Threesome. NSFW 18+. Minors DNI.

Word Count: 3.1K

A/N: Thank you to my beta princess @whisperlullaby

The following day in training, you’re glad that the soreness wasn’t obvious from last night's activities. It only showed when you went to kick another trainee during sparring and you winced as they blocked you. You were sure no one caught it, but towards the end of the session Bucky called you over to one side while Loki supervised the rest of the recruits.

“Is there a problem, Sergeant?” you ask nervously. 

“That’s what I’m trying to find out. Kick!” he holds his hands up and you react as trained and deliver with only a small wince. Bucky’s eyes narrow and he holds his hands up again, “Kick!”

You do as told with a small grunt of pain. Bucky’s stare is making you uneasy and you ask, “Is everything okay?”

“Why don’t we go into the athletic trainer’s room and let me take a look?” Bucky points to the open door. 

“Uh, sure, but I thought the trainer was out today.”

“I know what I’m doing, recruit.”

“Yes, sir,” you answer meekly and go through the door. 

“Lay face down on the table,” Bucky instructs. 

Butterflies erupt in your stomach as you comply with his instruction. You lick your lips as you tense with anticipation. When the warmth of his right hand presses gently into the small of your back you let out a small gasp. 

“Did that hurt?”

“No, sorry,” your mind is running wild wondering if Bucky was looking at you as a recruit or as a woman. A woman whose virginity he had taken the night before. A woman he had said he wanted more of. Or was that something all men said? 

“No need to apologize,” Bucky smirks above you as he slides both his hands to knead at your hips. “Any pain here?”

“N-no,” you whisper. God, if this is purely professional you might die. Your body is on fire and he’s barely touched you. 

“Speak up.”

“No,” you say louder. 

“Here?” his hands land on your calves and massage gently. 

“No,” you wonder why he skipped your thighs. Maybe this wasn’t a way to get you alone. 

“Here?” Bucky’s hands caress the backs of your thighs and you will yourself not to squirm under his touch. 

“No,” your voice trembles slightly at the intimate touch. He lingers a little longer than necessary or was that your imagination?

“Get on your hands and knees.”

You comply without a word. Your breath is ragged and you try desperately to get your heart to calm down. Bucky grabs your thighs and moves you so your knees are almost at the end of the table. 

“Good, straighten your left leg. Good, now your right. Any pain?”

“No, sir.”

Bucky moves to stand between your legs and places his hands on your hips again, “No pain in this area?”

“No.”

“How about here?” His thumbs trace the line between your leg and ass and then a little lower. 

You take a shuddering breath, “No, sir.”

“So, all the soreness must be stemming from here,” Bucky licks his lips as he traces two fingers along your covered slit. “Have you been doing any strenuous exercise lately?”

“Bucky!” you groan. 

“Shouldn’t that be Sergeant, recruit?” Bucky teases. 

“If it was I don’t think you’d be touching me like that,” you manage the small bit of sass. 

Bucky chuckles at your response, “That’s true, doll. Fuck, I’ve been hiding my hard-on remembering last night while watching you all morning.”

“You- you have?” you ask, you were soaked already yourself. Every time you had caught Bucky or Loki’s eye that morning, the pleasure of the night before had flooded back.

“Yes. Gotta get my mouth on you, doll,” Bucky says as he pulls your leggings down bringing a surprised gasp from you. His tongue is on you a second later. He licks a stripe from your clit to your cunt and then presses his tongue as deep as he can. He fucks you with his tongue, grabbing your hips to move you against him. 

“Bucky!” you gasp as pleasure ripples through you. “Is here- oh, fuck- a good idea?”

“Don’t give a fuck,” Bucky growls before going right back to what he was doing. 

The door suddenly opens, surprising both of you as Loki enters. You quickly jump down from the table and pull your leggings up. 

“I locked that,” Bucky says to you, as if defending himself.

“As if that could keep me out,” Loki laughs. “I knew what you were up to as soon as you called our little pet away. I just wish I was the one to do it. The other recruits are gone. Shall we take this somewhere a little less conspicuous?”

Bucky looks at you waiting for your answer. You look between him and Loki, “Uh, yeah. W-would you like to come to my room again? I, uh, I need a shower anyway.”

“Hmm, I think my room would be a better idea, pet. I have a nice big bed and a much larger shower than in the recruits’ quarters. Come,” Loki holds out a hand to you. 

You take Loki’s hand and turn back, “Bucky?”

Bucky smirks, “Don’t worry, doll. I’m not gonna let him have all the fun.”

The three of you make your way discreetly to Loki’s room. You survey it quickly. The room is much nicer than yours and has an opulence befitting the god. Loki follows your eyes to his very large bed and smirks, “You can test it out after our shower, pet.”

“It’ll definitely give us more room to move than mine did,” you laugh. 

“I thought we made it work pretty well, doll,” Bucky pulls your back against him. “You don’t regret it, do you?”

“Having my first time with two of the hottest men to ever walk the planet? Absolutely not,” you wink. 

“I’m a god,” Loki props your chin up with his long fingers and rubs his thumb over your bottom lip. 

Looking at him with doe eyes, you suck the tip of his thumb before replying, “That you are, my prince.”

Loki’s eyes smolder as he backs you into the bathroom, ripping your clothes off in the process. Bucky turns the shower on and undresses himself while watching you with a smirk. Loki has you naked and in a liplock while quickly discarding his own clothes. His cock is already at attention and Bucky can tell he’s planning on having first dibs tonight. As soon as the water is warm enough for you, Loki guides you into it and strokes your skin while watching the water cascade over your body. His hand wanders between your legs to find you thoroughly wet between Bucky’s earlier ministrations and the anticipation of what you knew these two would do to you. 

A wicked smile spreads across Loki’s face as he backs you to the shower wall and picks you up as if you weigh nothing. Despite his manhandling, he enters you slowly, cognizant that you may be sore. You let out a long moan as he presses in, enjoying each gentle motion he makes. 

“That’s it, pet. Let me hear you,” Loki encourages as his hips work faster. 

“Oh, fuck. It’s so good,” you whimper.

Bucky had sat back watching but seeing your face contorting in pleasure and Loki’s hips pulling such sweet sounds, he had maxed out his patience. Lubing his stiff cock, he steps into the shower and presses against Loki’s back. Bucky puts his lips against Loki’s ear, “You're hogging our little doll here, mischief. Guess I’ll just have to fuck you.” He nips Loki’s shoulder as he positions himself. 

“By all means, Sergeant. I don’t think our pet wil mind- Fuck!” Loki grunts as Bucky enters him. 

“You don’t mind, do you, doll?” Bucky grins as he steadily fucks Loki, pushing him into you with each thrust. 

“No, oh, fuck,” you whine. Your orgasm building with each motion. You were even more turned on realizing that the two men were lovers as well. There was no doubting the fact when it was obvious that Bucky knew Loki’s body well. He had reached around to flick at Loki’s nipples, pulling a moan from the god’s lips before moving to yours. He played with you both. His hands wander as his hips work. He kisses you over Loki’s shoulder, nips at Loki’s neck and encourages you to play with the god. 

“Clench around him. Let him feel you. He likes being the center of attention. Don’t ya, mischief?” Bucky teases.

“As much as you enjoy hiding in the shadows,” Loki sasses as he licks a stripe up your neck making you clench again. “Keep doing that, pet, and I won’t last long.”

“Are you talking to me or her?” Bucky smirks as he thrusts even deeper. 

“Ah! She’s pet, elskling,” Loki says with a smile for you. 

“Elskling?” Bucky chuckles. 

“A norse word,” Loki smirks over his shoulder. 

“Meaning?” You can’t help asking, drawing both their attention. 

“Darling,” Loki growls. 

“I’m sorry,” your eyes wide with fear that butting into their banter had caused annoyance. 

“No, pet,” Loki laughs lightly at your confusion, “Elskling means darling. And there is no need to apologize. I want to hear that beautiful voice.”

“I’m touched, mischief,” Bucky kisses Loki’s neck. “He can be sweet, can’t he, doll?” 

“Enough talk. Fuck us like you mean it,” Loki demands.

“Please,” you whimper. Your cunt is weeping and clenching around Loki, begging for more. 

Bucky pulls almost completely out and plunges back into Loki, causing him to buck into you even harder. Crying out, you hold on tighter while arching your back. Bucky grabs your head to pull you into a kiss as he thrusts. Loki presses against you tighter and sucks on the sensitive spot on your neck.

Bucky caresses and encourages you both to let go. “Come on, doll. Come all around Loki’s cock. He’s not gonna let go until you do and I’m not gonna until you both have. Don’t hold us up. We’ve been sporting hard-ons for you since we started with the recruits this morning. Hell, I don’t think mine’s gone down since you wrapped your sweet lips around it the first time.”

“I…I…fuck, I am,” you can barely get the words out as your body spasms.

“Good girl, good fucking girl,” Bucky groans as he makes quick, short strokes, knowing Loki must be close. “Your turn, mischief.”

“Please, my prince,” you whimper.

“Fuck, it’s good. This sweet cunt is squeezing me,” Loki moans as he loses himself inside you. 

Bucky grunts, biting down on Loki’s shoulder and staring into your eyes as he comes hard. You comb your fingers through his hair while watching him. You are still incredibly turned on and when Loki pulls out of you, you whimper at the loss. 

“Did we hurt you, pet?” Loki checks in. 

“No, not at all,” you reassure him. 

“Good,” Bucky says as he extricates himself from Loki. He pulls you into the spray of the shower and chuckles as he sees the marks on your back. “You can see the pattern of the tiles in your skin,” he says, ghosting his lips over your shoulder. 

“Worth it,” you smile at him. 

“Let’s get cleaned up,” Loki says as he takes up the soap.

You take turns covering each other in suds, washing hair, and touching as much as possible. It was thrilling, intimate, and all new for you. You kept reminding yourself that this was just a situationship. An opportunity to learn your body and the pleasure you could give and receive. With the way they treated you, you could find yourself having feelings you shouldn’t. You would let yourself care for them but you had to be careful. 

While these reminders had run through your head, your two lovers had rinsed the last of the suds from your bodies. Loki guides you out of the shower and a green glimmer shines over you both. You find yourself completely dry and smile at the display of magic. 

“That’s-” you begin but are cut off. 

“Really, mischief?” Bucky stands just behind you still thoroughly wet. 

“I thought you hated magic, Sergeant,” Loki smirks. 

Seeing an opportunity, you grab a towel and turn to Bucky, “Well, if Loki won’t help, I certainly can.” You begin drying his chest while looking at him with wide eyes. 

Bucky’s eyes slip past you for a quick, gloating look at Loki before returning to you, “Such a sweet, little doll. I definitely need a thorough toweling off-”

Bucky shimmers green and stands before you completely dry. Your lips twist and you bite down on your lip to keep from laughing out loud as a small feeling of triumph at having played the god overtook you. Bucky narrows his eyes as he looks over at Loki. 

“Well, that chore is done,” Loki says as he steps towards you, hand outstretched to pull you to him. Bucky was having none of it and swooped in to throw you over his shoulder.

“Oh! Bucky! What?” You cry as he strides to the door. 

“He’s had enough of your attention, doll. I’m feeling a little neglected,” Bucky teases as he takes a playful bite out of your hip. 

“Oh! Yes, sir. I apolog-IZE!” You squeal the last syllable as you're thrown on the bed. Looking up at him with wide eyes, you scoot yourself back and ask breathlessly, “How can I make it up to you?”

“You’re going to sit on my face while you suck my cock,” Bucky crawls towards you. 

“Uh…oh, y-yes, sir,” you stammer as any bravado you had previously gained deserted you. Your lack of experience rushed back into your mind making you incredibly nervous at the foreign request. “I’m not sure what, how, um…”

“You’ve scared her, elskling,” Loki’s voice trills.

“It’s okay, doll. Come here,” Bucky lays down and positions you to straddle his face but loses his own composure and dives in without thought. His tongue finds that sensitive nub immediately making you cry out and buck against his face. He clamps his arms around your thighs to hold you in place, losing himself completely in your taste. 

Loki sniggers as he steps closer, “See how desirable you are, pet? He’s already lost in you.” He wraps a hand around the back of your neck and watches as your face contorts in pleasure. “I’ll help you. Lean down,” Loki guides you forward. He strokes Bucky’s cock and holds it in position, “Now wrap those sweet lips around him. Can you do it, pet? Are you going to be able to suck him off while he’s pleasuring you? Or is it too much for you?”

“I can take it,” you whisper before taking Bucky in your mouth. You swirl your tongue around his head and try to ignore the pleasure that rolls through you. Deciding to concentrate on Bucky’s pleasure, you begin sucking him in earnest. 

“Such a brave girl. So, you think you can take it? You think you can make him come for you? Can you ignore all those dirty things he’s doing to you and make him come before you do? Tell me, pet.” Loki pulls you away for just a moment. 

“I can do it,” you say before redoubling your efforts. 

Loki snickers before whispering, “But can you do it with two of us pleasuring you?”

You can’t think of what he means. You have to concentrate on sucking Bucky’s cock. God, he was so thick and your tongue was loving the feel of his silky length, but he was eating you for all you were worth. Pleasure rolled through you and no amount of squirming was bringing any freedom or relief from the onslaught. You lost your concentration momentarily when you felt a second set of hands grasp your ass but got it back quickly when you realized it was Loki trying to distract you from your dictate. It was when his absolutely wicked tongue buried itself in your ass that you lost it entirely. You choke on Bucky’s cock and let out a sinful moan around it. Fuck, the god was trying to break you and he had found a tantilizing, new sensation to do it with. You had never imagined such a depraved act that could bring so much pleasure and certainly never experienced it. 

Your pussy begins to flutter, a sure sign that an orgasm was impending and you couldn’t let it happen. You tighten your muscles, willing yourself to concentrate on Bucky’s cock and ignore the mind-blowing act that the two were performing on you. Balancing yourself carefully, you reach a hand to cup Bucky’s balls, rolling them gently in your hand. You concentrate your efforts on bringing him as much pleasure as possible. You employ your lips, tongue, and even graze your teeth lightly to excite him. You know you’re getting somewhere when he lets out a groan against your clit. Gently, you maneuver a finger to massage his prostate and are rewarded by Bucky’s hips jerking. You repeat the motion in time with each slide down his cock and it doesn’t take many more strokes of your tongue before he growls against you. You feel the spurts down your throat and have to fight your gag reflex from the angle but manage to successfully swallow. 

Your concentration on Bucky’s cock is interrupted when a smack lands on your ass. 

“Good girl. Your turn,” Loki growls before resuming his duties. He and Bucky both work their tongues over you. You grip Bucky, grounding yourself as they take you higher. The pleasure that you had managed to push to the back of your mind came back to the forefront in full force. Your cunt ached with need and began fluttering almost immediately. When you came, you screamed. There was no way you could stop yourself. Your whole body spasmed and you writhed as wave after wave hit you. As soon as it began to recede, another wave would hit. It just kept going and as it crested once again, you gave a hoarse cry and blacked out. 

You came to a few seconds later but the two men were hovering over you with worried looks. Loki’s cool hand was caressing your forehead.

“Holy fuck,” you whispered, looking up at the two with a smile. “That, wow.” You blink a few times, take a deep breath, and manage to concentrate on them. You reach for Loki. “I believe it’s your turn, my prince.”

They both chuckle at your enthusiasm. 

“I think it’s time for a break, doll. You need some water and food,” Bucky says, kissing you on the cheek. 

“You more than proved yourself, pet. We know you can take it but it’s also our job to take good care of you. I’ll order some food,” Loki helps you sit up and hands you a bottle of water. 

“Pizza?” You ask hopefully. 

“Sounds like a plan to me,” Bucky agrees.

“Midgardians,” Loki says with a roll of his eyes.

Updates and taglist: Please follow my sideblog @tuiccimfanfiction​​ and turn on notifications for updates. All series and new stories will be reblogged to it. You will only receive notifications when a new part or story is out! Nothing else will be blogged to the page. I can’t thank you enough for your support!

[moonlight-at-dawn]

Maybe now that I have adderall again I can get back to all the things I've left off....

[rafesangelita]

♡ when you’re so wet that rafe keeps slipping out..

warnings: making out, heavy petting, dry humping (not really, it’s pretty messy), finger sucking, cockwarming (?), unprotected sex, praise, teasing, rafe being super pussy drunk, belly bulge, size kink, biting, slight dacryphilia

“fuck, look at those hips..” rafe pulled away from your lips, a string of saliva still connecting you two as he dragged you up and down his lap, his large palms enveloping the soft globes of your ass. with shaky hands, you held onto his shoulders as you rocked on top of him, your panties drenched with your arousal. “need’ you, ray..” you whimpered, “please.” rafe pressed a trail of sloppy kisses across your collarbone, his tongue licking a stripe up the column of your throat as your eyes fluttered shut.

he navigated your body like it was the back of his hand, his skillful touch turning you into putty. rafe could feel your heat through his boxers, the soaked fabric making him groan as his hardened cock strained against the material. “i’ll give it you, baby, don’t worry,” he landed a harsh smack to your ass, ripping a yelp from your lips, “wet those fingers for me.” rafe could only imagine how slippery your cunt would feel swallowing him whole, your slick alone already making you glide easily on top of the layers separating you two from full penetration.

giggling softly, rafe watched as your hand disappeared underneath the waistband of your panties, his breath hitching once you held up your fingers, a pool of your sticky succulence glistening underneath the dim light. knowing that he was the one to make you like this made him twitch with need, his hand wrapping around your wrist as he brought your digits to his mouth. with a baited breath, you gasped softly when he took your juices on his tongue, the man in front of you moaning at the taste.

no matter how many times rafe found his head between your thighs, he could never get used to how intoxicating you were, all of his senses and primal instincts honing in on fucking you stupid. without wasting another second, rafe was quick to take himself out of his boxers, a hiss leaving his lips as his length smacked against your tummy. peeling back the lace material of your underwear, he slid them down your legs until he caught sight of the absolute mess between your thighs.

laying you down on your back, rafe brought your knees up to your chest, using one hand to press on your lower abdomen and the other to guide himself between your folds. he was so hard, he had to use his thumb to keep the tip of his cock down so he could enter your needy cunt. he marveled at the size difference, the head of his length stopping just below your belly button. “fuck, i’m gonna wreck you..” he trailed off, toying with your clit before slipping inside, filling you up inch by inch until you were crying out in both pleasure and pain.

with the hand that he had on your stomach, he guided your own over the budge in your tummy, your eyes widening slightly as he started thrusting into you at a steady pace. “you feel that? ‘feel the way my cock fills you up to the fucking brim?” your eyes rolled back at the same time you whined out a ‘f-fuck, yes!’ into your palm. your walls stretched deliciously around the the welcomed intrusion that was his length, your pussy clenching around him for all that he had. the sounds falling from your lips were nothing short of pornographic, the moans and choked sobs only pushing rafe closer to the edge.

he sped up until his skin was slapping against your own, your back arching off of the bed when he slipped out and stroked your clit with the underside of his cock. you shrieked at the sensation, your legs trembling in sensitivity. “too much..” you shook your head, bringing your legs down to wrap around his waist instead. rafe groaned, your slick dripping down his length as he tapped your glossy folds. “you’re so fucking wet, i’m slipping right out,” he grunted, “this is what i do to you, ‘pretty girl?” he leaned down, nipping the sensitive part of your neck.

he kept himself nestled inside of you for a few moments, letting you revel in being so utterly full. you gave him an approving hum, your nails digging into his skin as he bit you softly across your collarbone. starting up his thrusts again, he slipped out as soon as he picked up the pace, the action making him curse under his breath. your eyes watered in frustration, your bottom lip pulled tightly between your teeth. rafe saw your tears, the sight shooting straight to his cock. he loved seeing how delirious he made you, his chest filling up with pride as you looked up at him with that fucked-out gaze.

soon after he continued, your high was hitting you in intense waves, the coil in the pit of your stomach snapping in two as rafe watched your eyebrows knit together, the added mess between your thighs only making his hips stutter with his own climax painting your walls. “rafe!” you screamed in his ear, his thumb slipping between your lips for you to bite down on while he twitched and convulsed inside of you. a shiver ran down his back as he caged you tightly between his arms, his seed spilling out of you as you both went through the aftershocks of your orgasms.

once you were okay, rafe pressed a kiss to your lips, stroking the side of your face before rolling over to your side. “what’s your ring size?” he sighed, pulling you against his chest. you laughed softly, slightly confused at the words that left his mouth. “why?” rafe’s chest was rising and falling as he glanced down at you, meeting your eyes. “are you kidding me? i need to lock this pussy down. like tonight.”

[sttoru]

𝝑𝑒 SYNOPSIS. sukuna is shameless—not caring if anyone were to ever catch him righteously claiming ownership over his favorite concubine in the garden.

wc. 1.5k-ish

tags. true form!sukuna x concubine!female reader. smut, pwp. exhibitionism. size difference. dumbification \\ objectification. has two c.ocks. hair pulling. use of spit (yeah ik i wouldnt write for it but its sukuna). breeding themes. overstimulation. reader gets called ‘little girl, slut’. sukuna’s a menace and loves to create drama between his concubines

“shut up. i don’t care if they’re here or not,” sukuna grunts, tightening his grip on your fleshy thighs as his lower cock slams in and out your sloppy cunt without much thought. the sound of pruning shears cutting off branches is easily overwhelmed by the lewd noises of skin slapping against skin.

you feel sorry for those servants who’re just doing their job tending to the garden. none of them dare to look your way. they’re sweating, eyes solely focused on the branches they’re cutting, acting like they are not hearing the sinful moans and grunts in the distance. if they look, they’re dead. that much is known.

everything is blurry to you. all you can manage to do is let out a string of pleasure filled whines. your body is easily overpowered and held up against the harsh wood of the nearby wall. your thighs are spread in an awfully painful way, your knees up to your chest. quite literally folded in half.

“i said eyes on me, y’ fuckin’ slut,” sukuna barks. he does not have the patience today. you breaking the intense eye contact with him only worsens his mood. one of his veiny hands tug at your hair. the others hold you up—not allowing you to even think of getting back on your feet until your tight cunt is done milking him for what he’s worth.

you gasp and sukuna takes the chance to grab your jaw with yet another free hand. “open y’r mouth,” his hips do not still for even a second. they roll and ground against yours, the surrounding skin near his pelvis stained with your wet juices. he could smell it. just as nasty and dirty as he wants it to be.

you part your lips and keep them like that, not wanting to piss sukuna off even more. he grins at the sight of your red tongue instinctively rolling out like the obedient little girl you are. he spits right into your mouth, “swallow.”

you do so without second thought. the warm liquid trickles down your throat. sukuna watches in satisfaction, drilling into you until your insides are complete mush. you’re drooling over yourself already—clearly having lost control over your rationality.

you sniffle and try to hold onto sukuna’s biceps. your small fingers curl around the shape of them, nails digging into his flesh. every time you think sukuna’s finally letting up, he only increases his inhuman pace. “my l-lord, ‘s too much,” you cry out. your body could only handle so much pleasure before it’d break down. your pussy is convulsing around his girthy cock, feeling his other sliding back and forth over your sensitive clit.

the king of curses shuts you up with a hiss. his bottom set of eyes is focused on the impressive scene of your tiny pussy swallowing his cock so easily. he’s feeling proud of the fact that he’s molded you into the perfect concubine for him and his carnal pleasure.

sukuna has fucked you silly enough times to know how to get you under his spell. his fingers brush over your hard nipples, grabbing the squishy flesh of your tits as they bounce with each of his thrusts. he leans his head down towards yours. his rough, raspy voice makes your body heat up, “no, no. it’s never too much for my little girl, right? she can easily take ‘nother load f’me.”

your breath hitches and sukuna realises it worked. he knows just what to say to manipulate you into giving in. so he can fuck you senseless for how long he wants. you’re a sucker for the fact that he calls you his. that’s what you are—you’re his woman. only his and no one else’s. the claim of ownership makes your pussy clench.

“y-yes, my lord. i can take another, i can,” you breathe out, head swaying from side to side, not mentally able anymore to keep up with sukuna’s intense libido. yet, your body is still active, squeezing around sukuna’s dick as he promised you more of his precious cum.

the king of curses snickers, amused by just how fast you gave in. “that’s what i thought, hah,” he’s realised that his hold on you knows no bounds. you’re his little toy. the only one he wants to ravish these days. and the only one worth of carrying his seed.

you’re still thinking about the way he’s called you ‘his little girl’. it’s driving you closer to the edge. you start to get louder, completely ignoring your inner thoughts that begged you to have some decorum; to try and hide the fact that you’re getting slutted out in the courtyard.

there’s not much hiding it anyway since the servants have a clear understanding of what’s going on behind them. “mghh, please—please need more!” you mewl and sukuna listens. his red eyes darken with desire as you get into it. he loves to experience that lust driven side of yours. a complete opposite to your usual formal and shy self.

“louder, c’mon. let them know i’m fucking you good,” sukuna sneers, enjoying the mind games he is playing with you. you’re too cockdrunk to even notice. the them in his sentence refers to his other concubines. he knows that you’re secretly craving to get revenge on them and show them just how well you get dicked down by him every single day.

unlike them, who rarely get graced by his touch. that is, when you’re unavailable.

you do as told and increase the volume of your erotic moans, letting everyone around the estate know what you’re getting up to. not like anyone could interfere. sukuna wouldn’t dare let them live a second after.

“that’s it, yeah,” the sorcerer grunts and rams his length repeatedly into you, cursing at the way you’re gripping him so tightly. you’re so dripping wet that he slips out of you for a second. he moves his hips, angling them better to slam back inside of you.

however, you’re one step ahead. your shaky hand reaches down between your legs and you quickly guide his tip to your entrance, urging him to push between your moist folds again. “nasty fuckin’ girl,” sukuna scoffs at your desperation, though secretly thrives off it. he switches cocks and shoves the upper one into your cunt.

you gasp. you’re so used to him to the point that you could sense the difference between his dicks. the upper one has more veins and is a tad bit girthier. you hiccup and nearly choke on your own moans and spit from the change of pace and dicks. “ngh, ‘tis so deep, my lord—” you whine loudly and your hands move to hold your breasts, stopping them from painfully jiggling around in every direction.

sukuna hums in content as he continues his rough thrusts. he can feel his balls twitch and clench, ready to shoot his sperm all up in your womb like you deserve. though, he doesn’t want to end this moment too quickly. he wants to extend it.

“c’mere,” sukuna grumbles and stops pounding your poor, aching cunt. he stills his dick inside you and allows you to cling onto his tall stature, lifting you away from the wall. he silently urges you to wrap your legs around his waist so he could carry you.

the robes of your kimono get left behind on the patch of grass near the wall of the main house. there’s a few droplets of white liquid that’s stained the grass, right where sukuna and you were standing at seconds ago.

you don’t think about anything anymore as you babble about how full you felt with his cock all the way in you. the fat tip brushes against your cervix with each step sukuna takes towards his next destination.

“keep talkin’ to me, doll. tell me how good it feels to take my cock,” he grins smugly as he carries your little body like a trophy into the main building—not paying mind to any maids who he passes by. they’re shocked by the sight of their lady in such a state, though are only able to bow at the two of you.

sukuna finally stops in front of the dinner table. the same table you always have dinner at with him and his other women. he places your back against the surface, big hands holding you down by your hips. “there we go,” he coos mockingly, seeing how you’re completely fucked out, yet still needing more of him.

the king of curses has his own twisted reasons of bringing you here. looking outside of the window, you notice how the sun is starting to set. that’s also the moment you realise his hidden motive.

the other concubines will sooner or later gather at the dining hall to eat supper. they’d expect a peaceful meal, though instead, they’ll be greeted by the sight of their dear lord screwing his favorite. it’ll be a painful blow to them.

which is exactly what the ruthless man wants to achieve.

sukuna licks his lips and all of his eyes focus on you solely, “gonna enjoy my dinner a bit earlier t’day, yeah?”

CR. STTORU 2024

[bunnyywritings]

i’m leaving the gym and all i can think about is supportive gym boyfriend!nanami 😩 (trying a new form of hc’s 🙇🏽‍♀️ hope you like it !!)

gets smutty at the end…warning for curse words and nanami with a breeding kink and a fem!reader

gym boyfriend!nanami definitely encourages you to push yourself to do one more set

gym boyfriend!nanami mutters praises in a husky, breathless tone as he spots your seated shoulder press

gym boyfriend!nanami who just knows what he’s doing when he stops you mid-set on the leg press to gently grip your chin and place a chaste kiss to your lips despite the whine that leaves your throat as your thighs burn and quiver

gym boyfriend!nanami blatantly stares at your ass when you’re doing RDLs and giving it a firm pat as a ‘good job’ when you’re finished

gym boyfriend!nanami who gives you scary dog privileges when the creeps at the gym have lingering stares

gym boyfriend!nanami who purposely grunts your name softly when no one’s around, feigning innocence when he claims to only be getting your attention so you can get his water bottle open

gym boyfriend!nanami who never makes you feel incapable or less than for not being able to keep up with a workout

gym boyfriend!nanami celebrates your feats, big and small

gym boyfriend!nanami who, when your shirt rides up or if the bottom of your shorts roll up and he sees you squirm in discomfort, drops everything to fix it for you so you don’t have to interrupt your concentration

gym boyfriend!nanami who takes pride in seeing your eyes roam over his body through the mirror

gym boyfriend!nanami who purposefully flexes to see you drool and your cheeks flush a deeper hue than they already are

gym boyfriend!nanami who always tells you what a great job you did and how proud of you he is with a kiss to your sweaty forehead

gym boyfriend!nanami who always buys you a post workout protein shake/smoothie/juice and who always insists on treating you to breakfast

nsfw under the cut !!

gym boyfriend!nanami barely waits until the door to your shared home closes to gently shove you against it and kiss you breathless

gym boyfriend!nanami who tosses you onto your shared bed and peels your leggings and underwear off you

gym boyfriend!nanami who waves you off when you try to squeeze your thighs closed, needlessly embarrassed about smelling like sweat

gym boyfriend!nanami who says that it’s only healthy to get a good stretch and cardio in after a workout

gym boyfriend!nanami who grips the back of your thighs and pushes your knees to your chest to hear you moan at the pleasure-fully painful stretch of your sore muscles

gym boyfriend!nanami who teases you about how sopping wet you already are

gym boyfriend!nanami who gladly shoves his face into your cunt to devour you whole, gently kneading your hamstrings and glutes

gym boyfriend!nanami who gives you two orgasms before shoving his sweats off and effortlessly flipping you onto your hands and knees

gym boyfriend!nanami who guides your back into a nice, deep arch to stretch out your lower back muscles, the tip of his hard cock warm and wet as it presses against your sticky cunt, clit puffy and overstimulated

gym boyfriend!nanami could slide in easily with how wet you are but decides to tease and slip in, inch by delicious inch

gym boyfriend!nanami buries himself to the hilt with a low moan, grinding his hips and hitting that spongy spot deep inside you that has your lips falling open with pathetic mewls and whimpers

gym boyfriend!nanami shushes you condescendingly when you whine out “s’too big…k-kento”

gym boyfriend!nanami keeps his strokes deep and slow “it’s okay, honey…you can take it. my good girl can take it, can’t she?”

gym boyfriend!nanami who smirks and bares his weight down on you when you responded with a tearful “can take it…f-fuck! just wanna-wanna be good for you!”

gym boyfriend!nanami doesn’t pull out, he mutters messy promises of “m’gonna fill you up…make you swollen with my kids- fuck! m’gonna make you a mama-“ with equally messy thrusts before stilling behind you, cock twitching as he empties himself inside you

gym boyfriend!nanami who eases out of you and helps position you comfortably on the bed before leaving you with a gentle kiss and going to run a bath

gym boyfriend!nanami who massages your aching muscles as you rest against his chest, bodies enveloped in the warm water, smattering kisses all over your neck and shoulders with whispered and delicate “i love you”s

[joelsgoldrush]

“you can use my skin to bury secrets in” | 6.8k

old man!logan x f!reader

SUMMARY: Saliva floods his mouth as you rise to your feet, looking down at him from above. Gracefully angelic, and yet— “I know what I’m asking for,” you continue, your voice descending to a low murmur that scratches pleasantly against some dark and remote corner of his brain. Then you lower yourself onto his lap, your thighs bracketing his waist. You repeat your question: “Can I help you?” OR Logan had always known your generosity would get him in trouble. WARNINGS/TAGS: mdni smut 18+ cursing. drinking. pining. mentions of alcohol. dirty talk. age gap (reader's in her late 20s). logan’s POV. angst/self-deprecation (he just needs a little loving). religious imagery. feelings. petnames. chauffeur!logan. oral sex (m receiving, tiny bit of f receiving). sort of dom!logan. doggy style. unprotected p in v. creampie. A/N: i could say i'm sorry for this, but i'm not. love love love this old man (#needthat). heavily inspired by the song "i know" by fiona apple. @lubdubology my partner in crime who keeps putting up with me, tysm!!! hope you all enjoy it <3

The line between being a good and bad person is thin. So thin, in fact, that Logan finds himself stepping back and forth across it constantly.

Rescuing a kitten from a tree? Good.

Punching a guy at a bar because he didn’t feel like being acknowledged? Bad.

Saving countless lives from mass destruction? Good—heroic, even.

But killing others to do it? Bad—condemnable, scum of the earth.

Where does that leave him? Which side has laid claim to his soul? He’s long accepted he’ll never see the pearly gates.

When the day comes that his body can no longer take it, and he only grows wearier, he’s pretty sure there’s a special place in hell with his name on it, etched in some grave awaiting to be filled.

Maybe Satan’s already counting down the days until he shows up at his door, who knows?

Yet, the more time passes by, the less afraid he is of what lies beneath the surface. He’s learned to coexist with the darkness, with the kind of pain and loneliness that would crush most men.

He doesn’t know how, but he survives it—the agony, the memories, the solitude that hits him from time to time.

And still, he doesn't lose himself entirely. He’s tempted, of course, to linger in the past—it’s always easier to drown there.

If he could go back, he knows he wouldn’t be alone in choosing that path. Some days, it feels like the only option.

But there’s no you in his past.

Logan inhales sharply when your tongue teases his slit, lapping at the precum pooling there. You hum at the taste, your hand resting on his bare thigh, fingers pressing into his skin. Your other hand lazily strokes the length of him, working the inches your mouth can’t take.

It’s clear you’re enjoying this. He can tell from the way your lashes flutter each time he thrusts a little deeper into your slick warmth. A win-win situation.

Letting a girl like you do this to him? That’s bad. Very bad. Red flags all around.

He meets you when he least expects it.

It’s a night like any other. He’s been driving for God knows how long. His joints ache from being in the same position for hours, and a part of his left knee he didn’t even know could hurt begins to throb.

It takes everything in him not to call it quits for the night, not to turn around and head home like a coward.

When exactly his life fell into this monotonous cycle, he’s not entirely sure, but it happened somewhere along the way. Now, it’s all the same: taking care of Charles during the day, catching an hour or two of sleep, then gripping the steering wheel with white-knuckled intensity, driving through endless stretches of road, resisting any attempts at small talk from the passengers he chauffeurs around.

They all try—every single one of them. They think if they can crack his harsh and bitter exterior, he’ll open up, reveal something, anything to make their eyes go wide.

But why? Why do they insist on breaking through his shell? What do they hope to discover?

No one really cares what’s going on in his mind. They just want to feel good about themselves—like they’ve been kind, amiable, empaths intending to fill some empty and obscure corner of their own lives.

Logan refuses to be the person who grants them that satisfaction.

You slip into the backseat of his limo, closing the door with a soft click. The night clings to you, the scent of the bar still lingering on your clothes. The music is loud enough for him to hear from outside, and he sees the people lined up at the door, willing to cause a fight if it means securing a good time.

There's a slight frown tugging at your features, your lips pulled downward, though your voice is still polite when you blurt out your address.

Five minutes into the drive and you haven’t said a word. Internally, he’s savoring the silence, so happy he could jump on one foot.

This kind of peace is rare. He’d grown unaccustomed to it. The tension in his shoulders eases as the city lights blur past.

But, all good things come to an end, because—

“How’s your night going?” you ask, fiddling with the seatbelt to have something between your fingers. Logan glances at you through the mirror, his eyes catching yours just for a moment, long enough to see the faint, apologetic smile you offer him. He allows himself a heartbeat more to take you in before focusing back on the road.

You click your tongue, a soft sound of disapproval ringing in his ears. “Well, thank you.”

He lets out a quiet huff, grinding his teeth together. “I’d prefer if we stayed like we were before,” he mutters, his voice rough and gravelly. His attention flickers between the passing cars and the occasional glimpses of you that startle him every time he searches for the mirror. Cars. You. Cars. You. You. You. “Y’know, not talking.”

“But that’s no fun at all,” you retort, sliding more to your left, nearly positioning yourself in the middle of the backseat. It gives him a better view of you—whether intentional or not, he can’t say.

The lipstick on your lips is still flawless. A sparkly necklace glints just above the neckline of your dress, and matching earrings dangle from your ears. Wrapped in a leather jacket, you look effortlessly alluring.

This entire sequence is enough to confirm that by no means is he going to heaven. Straight to hell, he thinks, allowing his gaze to trace over each detail of your frame. Straight to hell.

You don’t give up. “Your aura is off.”

That prompts a crooked smirk from him, a shake of his head as he mumbles under his breath: “M’sorry, my what’s off?”

“Your aura,” you clarify, motioning toward him with a light jingle from the many bracelets adorning your wrist. “It’s the energy that surrounds you.”

Logan snorts, amused for a brief second. “Well, you weren’t exactly a beacon of life when you got in either.”

You chuckle softly, leaning back against the seat and looking out the window. “I’m much better now.” A pause before you continue, your tone shifting, losing strength. “My date stood me up. Last-minute cancellation.”

It’s not anger, nor is it disappointment, that laces your words. You seem more resigned than anything else. He’d have expected you to sound at least a bit more conflicted.

“I should’ve seen it coming. He’d been asking to move it forward for a while.”

Does he look like the type of driver who doubles as a therapist? He wishes he could understand why you're telling him all this.

“That sucks,” he still responds, because even though he hasn’t gone out with a woman in what feels like centuries, he understands that sensation all too well. “First time meeting him?”

Listen up, everyone—he’s genuinely engaging in conversation with another soul. This doesn’t happen often.

He hears you hum, eyes still trained on the outside world. You sigh, crossing your arms over your torso. “Would you mind rolling your window up? I’m kind of freezing here.”

“I’d mind that very much,” he says, his voice carrying its usual gruff edge. He fights the urge to grin, but then you unbuckle your seatbelt, leaning in closer to him. Your body is wedged between his seat and the passenger’s, and he perceives your stare boring into his side profile. “Put your seatbelt back on.” 

“You’re fucking with me.” Your finger taps his shoulder once, twice. “First, I get all dolled up for an idiot who bails on me, and now you have the nerve to make fun of me? Give me a break.”

Your eyes stay on him, a smile plastered on your face, anticipating any possible answer.

Crack, crack, crack—you intend to break through his shell, watching him from the front row, waiting for the moment it gives way.

Before you can say more, he cuts you off. “Seatbelt.”

It’s a command, an instruction, and you comply without hesitation.

Warmth pools and stirs low in his gut as he notes how quickly you obey him. 

Would you still look at him like that if you knew the blood he’s scrubbed off his hands? The flesh that his claws have shredded? The names of the lives he’s taken?

Would your warm gaze turn cold, filled with dread instead of curiosity?

Maybe this is hell. Are you the Devil in disguise, tempting him to cross a line he won’t be able to come back from?

A few minutes later, he pulls up to your building. A really nice one, he notes. You announce you live on the sixth floor. He doesn’t need to know that, does he? Why would you tell him that? Why give that piece of information to a complete stranger?

You linger in the backseat, as though you’re expecting him to turn and look at you. And he does, though not for the reason you might expect. “You got everything?”

Eager and full of life, you nod, clutching your purse to your chest. You avert your gaze to read his ID tag, the one that contains his personal details. “James?”

“Glad you can read,” he utters, pulling out a small bottle of liquor from under the seat. He drains it all in one go, savoring the fleeting burn as it slides down his throat, which is enough to keep him going. “C’mon, kid. I already charged you.”

“You drink while you drive?”

“Keeps me entertained,” he says dryly. It’s the only thing he knows how to do. Raising the empty bottle in your direction, he arches a brow. “Goodnight, darlin’. Leave me a good review on your way out.”

You roll your eyes at him, silent as you exit the vehicle, closing the door behind you. While fumbling for your keys, four words escape your mouth. Casual yet devastating, they ruin him: “I’ll see you around.” 

For a couple of days, you don’t bother him again. Bother—notice the implication of the verb in question.

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t think of you after that drive. Each time his phone buzzes, a small, restless part of him hopes it’s you, asking for his services, wanting him to be the one you seek out.

And it happens. The best things seem to occur when the moon hangs high and bright.

You: Hi.

He stares at the message, recognition washing over him. He knows it’s you; he can see the other texts you exchanged that night he took you home.

You: Are you working tonight?

You’ve got to be kidding him.

Logan: Why are you texting me?

He types the words with frustration, his thumb hovering over the screen longer than usual. 

You: Why are you answering me?

Oh, you’re smart. 

Logan: Take my advice. Talk to a guy your own age.

You: Damn. Already jumping to conclusions. I was just going to ask you if you wanted to have a drink with me.

Logan: I’m busy.

You: Well, what time do you get off?

Logan: I work all night.

You: Can’t even make a quick stop? I swear it won’t take you more than twenty minutes.

An impulse to throw his phone out the window surges within him, but he manages to restrain himself.

Then, as if on cue, the device vibrates again—of course, it’s you.

You: The drinks are on me. Let me know if you change your mind.

Do you think he’s going to let you pay for him? Absolutely not. 

What surprises him more than the message is how easily he remembers your address. It appears to be ingrained in his mind.

He cancels his next trip, scheduled for ten minutes from now, his new destination being your building.

Once he pulls up, he does what feels most natural: he honks. Multiple times. Maybe he’s lucky and you’ll tell him to fuck off.

But you don’t. You’re laughing as you make your way over to the limo, sliding into the backseat in the same way you did a week ago. Your plan had succeeded—you had him exactly where you wanted.

Far from hiding it, you make it evident, obvious. Your heartbeat thrums in the air, and Logan can hear it loud and clear, like the bass in one of those funky songs he likes.

There’s no room for mistakes. He won’t deny it. Even if the feeling is mutual, he can’t shake the idea that he’s doing something wrong.

In his eyes, you’re the forbidden fruit—irresistible, the ultimate temptation known to humankind, camouflaged in the fur of a pretty woman.

You, his paradise on earth, could only lead to one thing: a longing for a chance with you, which he should never be granted in the first place.

He’s diving headfirst into disgrace, and the more he realizes it, the worse it feels. If he were to be scolded like a child, maybe he’d feel relieved, but he’s no kid. He’s a grown-ass man who should be able to resist.

Yet, self-restraint is like sand slipping through his fingers—never lasting long enough.

“You came.” Astonishment. Uncertainty. Amusement. Blinking your eyes at him, you sit very upright, and you don't even bother fastening your seatbelt. “Honestly? I thought you were going to block me.”

I can’t, he thinks. I wouldn’t be able to. I’m not that strong.

“What happened this time? Another failed date?” he inquires, still not starting the car. A look of perplexity appears on your features, puzzled about why he’s not moving. “Ain’t you forgetting something?” He tugs on his own seatbelt for emphasis, the fabric snapping back into place against his coat.

Once again, you follow his lead. “I don’t need to get stood up to want to see you,” you say, placing your hand on his shoulder for balance—or so he tells himself. It takes him all his willpower not to collapse right then and there. “Besides, I’m not bad company. I’ve been told I can be pretty funny.” 

“I see…” he trails off, catching your gaze through the rearview mirror, not shocked in the slightest to find you waiting for him to look back. “Where to?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, you should. You invited me.”

How easy it is to make your chest rumble with laughter, the genuine sound bubbling up, pure and unrestrained. He feels like some amateur comedian who has just realized his real passion is to cause this type of response in others.

Except, it’s not just anyone’s laughter he insists on provoking—it’s yours, and yours alone.

An unsettling sensation envelops him the second you retrieve your hand, not before squeezing his shoulder in a friendly manner. “There’s a bar I go to with my friends sometimes,” you suggest after a beat, shoving your phone in the pocket of your jacket. “We could try that one.”

The moment he steps inside, regret washes over him. Why is everyone here under forty? He feels ancient, like fucking Fred Flintstone.

A fossil out of place, meant to dwell in the shadows, not in a scene like this.

When he freezes in the middle of the bar, your fingers intertwine with his, tugging him along, and he follows after you like a lost puppy. The only thing he’s missing is the leash.

You’re met with his quirked eyebrows as you peer into his eyes over your shoulder, a toothy grin threatening to shake the floor beneath his feet. “You know, people usually sit down before they start getting shit-faced.”

“I’m not getting drunk tonight.” Logan exhales a deep breath, trying to hide his discomfort, his eyes scanning the room. “And neither are you,” he practically yells in your ear trying to make himself heard above the pounding music and incessant chatter. He wonders if you even hear him at all.

The two of you eventually settle at the counter, drinking in silence. Logan half-expects one of your comments to pierce through the quiet, but you delight in proving him wrong.

Instead, your head sways gently to the rhythm of the song playing in the background, and you take a trial sip of your beer.

He’s acutely aware of the stares from the rest of the patrons. He can pretend to be oblivious, but the weight of several pairs of eyes burning holes into the back of his neck doesn’t go unnoticed.

Being watched has never been his favorite pastime, and somehow, it feels even more uncomfortable with you by his side.

He knows what those looks imply, can nearly taste the hidden implications behind each fleeting glance.

What’s a girl like you doing with a man like him? A question that makes no sense.

Does he have money? A well-endowed reputation? Did he recently inherit any properties?

Are you truly that desperate for human contact?

Is your bed so cold that you decide to go for the first guy who can string ten words together?

Logan doubts whether this whole experiment is part of the community service you must be doing. Maybe he should look up your name online to see if any criminal records come to the surface.

Now that he takes a moment to ponder it, you certainly fit the mold of the criminal type. The kind who gets what she wants when she wants it, leaving a trail of intrigue on her wake.

His fingers circle the glass so tightly he fears it might shatter into a million shards. You notice his tension, nudging his arm with yours, aiming to meet his eyes.

When you do (because, as he said, criminals have their own ways), you smile, and he internalizes that gesture as something familiar, something he feels he’s grown used to. Something rankled in his memory.

It’s as if he’s known you for a lifetime.

“Thank you for coming,” you say softly, and he may be going down the path of hallucinations,  but your attention remains a little too long on his lips. Then, just as quickly, it flickers back to the rest of his face, and you lean back to drink from your beer once more.

Straight to hell, he thinks, tasting the remnants of whiskey on his tongue, for ever daring to believe himself worthy of even a moment of your precious time.

You’re probably the first person to have his full, undivided attention. And that’s… well, that’s saying something.

Most days, you’re pretty talkative, a steady stream of conversation, your words pouring out in an endless flow.

You tell him about your family, your career, that pet of yours that died when you were six years old. You mention a friend you no longer speak to, and the events that led to the downfall of your friendship.

There’s also that dish from your all-time favorite restaurant, the one you buy at least once a week because it never fails to comfort you.

Nonstop, you talk and talk, and Logan doesn’t mind one bit. Soon, he finds himself becoming an active listener—asking follow-up questions, chuckling at your jokes, even when they’re not funny at all.

He sincerely cares about what you have to say.

This whole situation with you is beyond his comprehension. Before he realizes it, you start wanting to spend more time with him.

Sometimes, you ride along in the passenger seat while he drives aimlessly through the city.

Sometimes, you invite him over, cook a meal, and he always takes the leftovers with him, as if a part of you goes with him when he leaves.

Sometimes, you come over to his place, and the roles reverse—you’re the one with the mic, asking the questions, fully aware that you’re treading on holy ground. 

Logan’s got a sign on his forehead that reads ‘Stop: do not enter.’ It’s rough around the edges, hardened by the years, all capital letters in stark blank ink. But in the end, you just take the sign and set it aside.

He never goes into too much detail. Not because he doesn’t trust you—it’s just that there’s too much to unpack, and you don’t need to know all of it. You’ll be better off not carrying the garbage he does.

Yet, you’ve got him by the throat, encouraging him to cough up disjoined pieces of his life, bits of his day, his thoughts, his feelings. It sounds stupid to him, but you make him feel alive. 

You never judge him, never flinch when he brings up stories from his past. As he sits at your table one afternoon, you look at his hands, his claws fully extended, and you don’t shy away. You rub the pad of your thumb across the rough skin of his knuckles, right where the adamantium tears through his flesh.

You don’t care that he’s a mutant, that he’s killed people. You don’t try to deny who he is or what he’s done. Oddly enough, you just wish to be by his side, staring off into the void with him. 

“But why?” he asks, partly flattered, partly frustrated. This could be compared to learning a new sport from scratch—he can’t figure you out, can’t understand why you haven’t run the other way yet.

He likes your company, though he’s always bracing himself for the inevitable day you find a better hobby and leave.

Your reasoning defies logic, and he’s afraid that at any moment, you’ll grasp the gravity of your choices.

Almost as if you could feel the turmoil brewing in his mind, you simply say: “You’re nice to be around.”

Nice. Nice. Nice. He’d cackle if he were alone. That word reverberates through him. When was the last time someone called him nice?

Bad-tempered, sure.

A pain in the ass? Definitely.

But nice? Not a term people employed to describe him.

It’s a quality reserved for you, with your endless charisma and kind heart, but not for a man of his kind.

He’s nothing more than a chauffeur, a driver, someone who does and says what’s necessary to survive. Does that make him nice? 

When he tells you he’s probably going to hell, you don’t try to make him feel better. Anyone else in your position might try to soothe him, to offer some hollow reassurance.

Your intention isn’t to change him, for him to pretend to be something he’s not. “Then I’ll meet you there,” you mutter, your shiny eyes searing into his. Under the table, your hand finds his, tender fingers grazing over his knuckles, and for once, he doesn’t pull away.

Could it be that an afterlife catching fire doesn’t sound so bad after all?

As much as he likes to admit how easily you can shift his mood, today is not one of those days.

He’s had a nightmare—nothing new, but this one had been… different. The empty bottle on the nightstand hadn’t been of any help; it never does when they visit him in his sleep.

The ghosts of those who used to be his friends, his family, tiptoe around his dreams in the form of shadows.

Blood. Screams. Shouts of his name. He can’t save them all. Walking through the wreckage, he dodges the bodies of those he couldn’t protect, the knot in his throat tightening with every step, not allowing him to breathe.

Wherever he turns, there’s death, destruction. Sadness. Did he save them all?

It’s always the same routine. He wakes up, screaming, chest aching from the effort. His lungs burn, and he has to remind himself that the limbs attached to him are his own and not the remnants of an immobile corpse.

Sweat clings to his skin, pooling at his temples and nape. He wipes it away with the back of his hand, rubbing at the soreness in his neck.

His phone rings somewhere in the distance, pulling him from his dizzy state. He scrambles to his feet, accepting the call just before it hits voicemail.

It's you. Despite it being late, he swears he feels the gentle kiss of the sun over his brow. Your sweet voice chases away the lingering shadows of his dreams, replacing the bitter taste in his mouth with something real—a reason to get up, to start moving.

He holds onto every second of the brief call, replaying those thirty seconds in his head as he steps into the shower. When the cold water shocks his system, it pulls him fully back to consciousness. He has to get ready.

Even though you insist on getting a taxi, he refuses. He doesn’t mind the drive. His gas tank does, his wallet maybe, but Logan? He just doesn’t.

At the end of the day, he’s protective by nature, and who knows what kind of men are roaming the streets at night?

God forbid they’re anything like him—eager to prompt a smile from you, trying too hard to impress you. He arrives at the conclusion that he’d rather lose fuel and money if it means orbiting around you for longer.

You make him feel better, and tonight, he needs it more than ever. He needs you.

(Now he’s driving. He honks five times when he pulls up to your building. You get on the limo, giggling as you say: “My neighbors must hate you.” He grins. You kiss him on the cheek. Subtle. Not the first time. Still, it doesn’t get old. He feels the faint residue of lip gloss on his skin. He doesn’t wipe it off.)

Not in the mood to cook, you declare as you step into his place. The mouth-watering aroma of the Chinese food you bought fills the air, but when he reaches for the bags, you insist that he sit and relax.

Sure, he can take a seat. But to expect him to relax with you around, playing this intricate game? That’s simply impossible. You’re asking for too much. He’s a player at heart, drawn to the thrill of the chase, and he will play along.

What seems inconceivable is the expectation that he can act as if nothing is happening between these four walls.

His attempts to focus on you are futile, as his mind betrays him tonight. All he hears spilling from your lips is pure and plain gibberish. Your very presence is no longer enough to anchor him.

Already immune to your charm, Logan eats his noodles, occasionally nodding when your voice rises at the end of a sentence, indicating a question.

But he nearly chokes on his drink the moment he registers your serious expression, having never witnessed you like this before.

“Are you even here?” you ask, shoving your food aside with a swift motion of your wrist.

What should he answer? What is it that you want to hear? Of course! I’m here, listening to you. It’s a delightful night. Should I start by telling you about my most recent nightmare? Quite the entertainment!

There’s a shake of his head as he lowers his gaze, escaping your concerned expression. “M’sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m not trying to make you feel guilty.” You tug your chair forward, claiming a piece of his personal space. You know he doesn’t mind. “Want to talk about it? Did something happen?”

“My brain is just… off today.”

“Many thoughts at the same time.” Not a question. Have you completely figured him out?

“Yeah.”

He remains still, dragging his plastic fork across the now-cold steamed veggies, which have lost their appeal.

How amusing—your knees bump against his, drawing his attention. “Can I help you?” It’s new, the breathy tone you’re using, a whisper of agitation weaving through your calm demeanor. 

“Can you erase my memory?” he shoots back, attempting to smirk through the wave of memories that flash behind his eyelids. When he looks into your eyes, the siren in his head blares.

Your pupils are dilated, blown wide, chest rising and falling rapidly. Sweaty palms that you wipe on your jeans. Tongue darting out to lick your lips. Your heartbeat accelerates, drumming wildly like the fluttering of a hummingbird’s wings.

He hasn’t been with a woman in ages, but he knows how they react when they see something they like—or, in this case, someone.

“Logan.” His name rolls off your tongue once more, tinged with an unmistakable need. The thought of checking his temperature dances through his mind, but the heaviness in his limbs roots him in place. He feels feverish. “I want to help you.”

Oh, no. No, no, no, no—

“What—what are you on, sweetheart?” Get up. Find your keys. Drive her home. “You don’t even know what you’re sayin’.”

Saliva floods his mouth as you rise to your feet, looking down at him from above. Gracefully angelic, and yet— “I know what I’m asking for,” you continue, your voice descending to a low murmur that scratches pleasantly against some dark and remote corner of his head. Then you lower yourself onto his lap, your thighs bracketing his waist. You repeat your question: “Can I help you?”

He’s no longer in control of his actions. His right hand crawls up your knee, palming the fabric of your pants. It’s numbing: a lapful of you, your rich smell, your quickened pulse.

Tempting. So fucking tempted to take you right now, just like this, without the need for words. Your bodies can communicate in a language of their own, one that transcends spoken phrases. 

I want you, he lets you know through the way he gropes your breasts over your shirt, squeezing them together. He’s always been good with his hands. But what the hell am I supposed to do with a sweet thing like you?

His patience teeters on the edge of a precipice. “Tell me what you want.”

“I asked you first.”

“You’re gonna pretend you don’t know the answer?” He thrusts into the air, grinding against your clothed core, and you close your eyes. He’s rock hard beneath you, the bulge in his jeans shockingly obscene, bordering on grotesque. “We both know what I want, but I’m no telepath, baby. Need you to speak up.”

Twisting the locks of hair at his nape, you press your lips to his neck. “I want to make you forget, to focus on this moment. I want you to live in the present, Logan.” A bite on his earlobe sends shivers down his spine, and he grips your hips with a primal growl. “I can do whatever you want. Just tell me. Tell me, and I’ll do it, please.”

Please? He’s spiraling. Please? That’s it—he’s doing it. He’ll grant you your plea, which aligns perfectly with his own desires.

Once his back meets the mattress in his room, you get to work. With delicate precision, you pull down his pants, sliding his boxers off until only his thick thighs and the crown of short curls adorning his cock remain in sight. Your fingers tremble slightly before you wrap them loosely around his length, and it springs to life in your grasp.

Your gaze pierces into his, mirroring the intensity of his own. But something holds you back, prompting you to reach for his hand.

At that moment, it all clicks into place. Logan urges your head down onto him, and he’s welcomed by the slick warmth you provide.

Indeed, he’s very much alive.

“That’s it. That’s—fuck. There you go.” 

His fingers dig into the mattress, clutching the cotton sheets, stopping himself from thrusting into your mouth. It’s not that he doesn’t want to—God, he does—but tonight, he’s on his best behavior.

He wipes the trail of drool from your chin, smearing it gently across your cheek, his thumb lingering as he watches your nostrils flare with a strained, muffled gasp.

Bringing his thumb to his mouth, he tastes the wetness on it the same way you’re sucking him: greedily, without any trace of mercy.

This proves I’m going to hell, he thinks, enraptured by the sight of his cock disappearing between your parted lips. Straight to hell.

You draw him back to the present, nuzzling your face against his thigh, your humid breath teasing his thick shaft, pulling him from a deep reverie. Your glossy eyes roam, exploring until they find his, and you gift him an authentic smile. Wrecked and blissed out, it’s as if the lights are on, but no one’s truly home.

He would’ve never guessed how much you reveled in sucking cock, radiating enthusiasm with each of your movements.

“Am I doing it okay?” you wonder aloud, hovering over the tip, swirling your tongue around the velvety head. He’s no fool, and neither are you; deep down, you know you’re doing more than just okay. Actually, you’re giving him the best blowjob of his long, long life.

Each panting, airy praise he huffs fuels your eagerness, making you even more receptive to his desires as the words slip past his lips.

“Fuckin’ amazing, honey. Got me so hard, y’see?” His tone is heavily charged with carnality, gripping himself and smacking the tip against your mouth, the wet sound echoing like music to his ears.

He pulses against your tongue, and you seize the opportunity to trace the thin veins scattered along his length. Gulping, with his gaze fixed on you, Logan notices how you’re still wearing your clothes, wiggling your hips against the mattress, rubbing your thighs together to get something in return. “Are you wet?”

Humming against him, you suck in shaky breath. 

“Words.”

“I’m—I’m wet,” you rasp, voice hoarse. You try to guide him into your mouth and fail miserably, because his grip only tightens, stroking himself instead. “Logan,” you keen, stretching your neck in a silent plea, “don’t be mean.”

“Not mean. Just enjoyin’ myself,” he replies, pulling the foreskin back to expose the head, arching his eyebrows. His fingers curl around your chin, drawing your face nearer to his girth, fascinated by how your eyes flutter shut the more you surrender to the pleasure. “C’mon. Be polite.”

Blame him for it—he believes he’ll never get tired of this game.

“Please.” You whisper, returning to your begging while tenderly rolling his balls, staring at him through your lashes. And then you say it again: “Please.”

Your gaze burns a hole through his crumpled heart. He lets you have it, eager to give whatever you may ask him for. You dive back into it, engulfing his length and bobbing your head up and down with fervor. Hushed whines escape your lips, savoring another bead of his precum.

Logan almost loses it as you hollow your cheeks, instinctively cradling the back of your head. “Easy, baby. M’not going anywhere. Take your time.”

Whenever he feels himself approaching that long-awaited release, he forces his mind to conjure thoughts that will stall his impending orgasm.

The water stains from flooding on the walls.

The supermarket list.

The rising price of gas.

The—

“Fuck. Slow down,” he groans, utterly captivated by the way you point your tongue to draw imaginary patterns along his cock, seemingly memorizing every detail. “Don’t go too hard on me, remember?”

You mumble something under your breath, and at first, he can’t quite make it out. “What is it?”

“I said I want you to fuck me.”

Under no circumstances is he surviving this night.

“Really, doll?” Logan seeks the reassurance he desperately needs, fearing that this is all a dream from which he’ll awaken the moment he properly touches you. “You sure you want this old man to fuck you?”

You’re a rambling mess, murmuring Yes, Logan, please, until he maneuvers you to lie on his chest, his glistening cock sliding against your clothes, leaving a trail of dark spots. A whimper dies on your tongue as you brush your lips together, your hot breath enveloping him. “Give me a kiss at least.”

Tilting your head up, he connects his mouth to yours, growling as he detects the dull, sour tang of what must be him. He sucks your bottom lip, hardly aware of what his hands are doing until he shifts your positions, pinning you down.

Logan tugs at your clothes, peeling them away with urgency, his fingers dancing over your nipples until you’re grinding against his thigh, quivering beneath him. With a nip at your damp skin, his eyes flutter open as he studies your expression, casting you a glance that seeks your permission.

A ripple of desire courses through him when you dutifully turn over beneath him, pressing your face further into the pillow. He runs his knuckles along the curve of your ass, his throat going dry as you follow after his touch, arching your body in response.

Unable to resist the temptation any longer, he licks a long, slow stripe up your wet folds, keeping his tongue flat against your clit for a brief moment. Your arms give out and you stumble forward, stuttering as you mewl his name, fully consumed by the feeling.

So he does it again, and again, and again, flicking the sensitive bud, even though you’re already beyond soaked. It’s a pleasure he indulges in simply because he can.

Straight to hell, he thinks, coating his length with your arousal, teasing your entrance while pushing in only the tip. That motion alone is enough to make him draw a trembling breath before he continues, gradually feeding you his cock, inch by inch.

Straight to hell, the voice in his head utters as he buries himself to the hilt deep within your body, his heavy balls resting against your ass.

Like an intruder in your territory, he’s free to do as he pleases, and you let him have his way with you.

If only this moment could stretch into infinity—he longs for time to relent and never draw to a close. 

What will happen after? Will you spend the night? Does he—

“L-Logan,” you mumble, having adjusted to his size. You rock back into him, impaling yourself even more on his cock. “Please, move.”

The pace he establishes is brutal. Your warm, inner walls exquisitely massage him, and the earth as he knows it stops spinning. Fire pools low in his abdomen, his hands holding you by the flesh of your hips to keep you anchored, each thrust driving you closer to the headboard with an intoxicating urgency. 

“You wanted it from the very start, didn’t you?” He doesn’t know if a response will ever come, but these kinds of thoughts are impossible to contain. He’s just a simple man, powerless against the allure of a tight cunt. “Just got in my car and knew it would end like this?”

You roll your eyes at him, silent as you exit the vehicle, closing the door behind you. While fumbling for your keys, four words escape your mouth. Casual yet devastating, they ruin him: “I’ll see you around.” 

His next thrust punches a whine out of your lungs. Even as you clench around him, stuffed and filled to the brim, you beg for him to fuck you harder. He would’ve laughed at you were he able to catch his breath.

With a more deliberate rhythm, he rolls his hips, jackhammering your most sensitive spot, pulling you closer as he wraps an arm around you. When his fingers find your clit, drawing slippery circles, a cry escapes you, and your body merges with the mattress under you.

Your release takes him by surprise, urging him to continue as you reach back, encouraging him to chase his own climax. He knows all too well the struggle of bringing you to this point without succumbing to his pleasure too soon. Your nails graze along his thigh, leaving delicate marks in their wake, and somehow, the passion and bliss he’s been nurturing ignites into a fiery crescendo.

Shortly after, he goes completely rigid inside you, pressing his forehead against your back as he bites down on your shoulder to muffle his groans. His hand squeezes your breast tightly, riding out his high, blood buzzing in his ears, continuing to spill into you. You spam around him, milking him until the last drop of his seed, his release painting your insides with his warmth.

Logan tucks you under his chin as his vision returns to clarity. You nose his jaw, your fingers softly tracing the contours of his beard. He pulls you closer into his chest, gliding his hands up and down your back.

Half a minute of dreadful silence, then: “Can I stay?”

Oh, yes—pillow talk. He’s not great at this either. Despite that, his eyes soften, snapping to your face.

Logan pauses for a moment. “Sure,” he retorts, dragging his fingers along your shoulder blades. He’s a one-word kind of guy. Just perfect.

Tell her you like her. Tell her you don’t want this to be a casual fling. Tell her it’s more than just sex for you.

Or maybe don’t. Get ahold of yourself, will you?

“Logan?” you ask, resting your palm against his heart.

“What is it?”

“I know.”

You do?

Try as he might, he can’t deny it. He might care about you more than he ever realized.

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

[catdia]

Lost in a Wild Rune

“Jayce— p-please slow down.” You whined. Throat straining against his hand.

He had you pressed against the wall of his abandoned workshop. Entering you with one thrust of his hips.

You came to his workshop to mourn his memory. Walk around the now ice cold fire pit and touch all those unfinished projects he had laying around.

Instead you found a broken Jayce, longer hair and full beard. Beautiful amber eyes uneasy and intense like never before. Talis hammer distorted with a Gem stone no longer blue.

A short emotion filled reunion. Hands grasping his dirty ruined coat. Nails digging into his clothing to see if this all was real. That he was flesh and bone.

You had so many questions about what and why. Before you could even get them out your mouth he claimed you with a kiss. Stripping you of your bottoms and shoved into a cold wall.

“I missed you so much, baby. I’ve become crazy without you.” He moan into your ear. Teeth sinking into your neck. Marking your skin red.

What happened to the man that used to make love to you so tenderly? The one that would give and give, and never take.

You refuse to believe that the man that was fucking you so hard was your lover.

He was pounding away at your entrance. Leg brace scrapping the outsides of your thighs. Your ass bouncing against his pelvis each time he thrusted into your weeping cunt. Other hand holding your arms behind your back making your wrists hurt.

He was so hairless before. Claiming he liked to be groomed for you. But seeing him shirtless with hair on his chest and a happy trail pointing to his cock made your cunt drool.

Jayce smelled of musk. The hand on your neck calloused by the lack of gloves. He wasn’t the council member you last saw.

He was just a man with the primal urge to fuck. And that made you unbelievably willing.

“Jayce, please, i-it’s too much!” tears were escaping your eyes. Your moans and cries echoed through the workshop walls. As if those walls were mocking you.

“My beautiful girl.”

He growled like an animal, having your velvety walls contract on his shaft was pure heaven. After months of pain and mental strain your skin was a much needed pill.

Balls slapping against your little abused clit deliciously. They were so backed up and heavy. Full of creamy seed. Head of his cock hitting your sweet spot just right. Squirming to get out of his hold, fearing of cumming too quickly. You wanted to savor his lust.

You almost forgot how big he was. Without any prep the shock of having him inside you was great, the burn was mouthwatering.

“How I’ve missed this pussy. Fuck, can’t wait to breed you.” He moaned between hollow breaths.“Should have done it sooner. I need to make you mine, baby.”

You were his the moment you met. Forever and always.

“Make me yours, Jayce. Fuck me full with your fat cock!”

He let go of your arms and neck. You braced yourself on the cold concrete. Palms violently grabbing the flesh of your hips, dragging them to meet the start of his shaft and all the way to the tip.

“Give yourself to me, muñeca—”

He came screaming your name, coating your cervix in white.

“Ohhh, fuck.” Jayce pulled you flat on his chest.

His hands pressing on your lower tummy. The pressure made you see stars, throwing your head back on his shoulder. Arching your back. Jayce captured your lips in a kiss, beard scratchy against your chin.

He made quick work of your clit with his fingers. Slapping her a few times making your body shiver and whine out.

“Jayceeeeee— I’m gonna cum!”

“Cream all over my cock, baby.” You came on his shaft. Body convulsing by the lack of release you haven’t had in months.

“That’s it, that’s it…” Jayce slowly pulled out with a hiss. Spreading your cheeks apart to see his cum dripping out of your swollen lips.

Your legs were like jelly, if it wasn’t for him turning his back against the wall and sliding you down to the floor your knees you have been bleeding.

Jayce wrapped his arms around you. They were more muscular than you remembered. You were all fucked out. Hair in every direction, sweat coating your brow. But this Jayce didn’t care.

He was smelling your body, nuzzling his nose into every crevice of your skin. Licking and tasting you as if you were going to disappear.

A giggle filled Jayce’s ears.

“Your beard is tickling me, baby.”

He smiled like a lunatic. Kissing the back of your hand. “It is? Do you like it?”

“Mmm I love it, Jayce. And the hair too.” You said tracing his jaw with your knuckles.

You missed each other’s joy so much.

You saw the pain in his eyes, one of a massive headache that cannot even be controlled by morphine. The way the lines of his nose scrunched up in discomfort. What happened to your lover?

The hormones of sex and bliss slowly diminishing.

“What happend to you? Why did you leave me alone?” You broke down in his chest. Ugly crying like he has never seen before.

“Sshhh, baby, please don’t cry. I’m right here with you.” Jayce cradled your head in his large palms. Bringing his lips up to your eyes and drinking your tears.

“I don’t even know where to begin…”

“Start with why the Hexcore has tuned into an angry human tissue sample.”

You pushed a strand of hair behind his ears. Massaging the sides of his temple with little pressure. Making him sigh in relief.

His gaze was focused, like the young inventor you saw for the first time in his blown-up apartment.

“Ok. Well, it all happened so fast after the attack—”

[vauer]

𝐎𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝

𝙹𝚒𝚗𝚡 𝚡 𝙴𝚔𝚔𝚘 𝚡 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

CW: threesome, sub!Jinx, fem!reader, cunnilingus, crempie, no plot, slightly jealous reader

I don't know wtf I just wrote, but let it be here

(can be mistakes, english isn't my first language 💌)

You were on your knees, face in front of Jinx’s swollen and dripping with arousal folds. Your hot breath makes her whimper and squirm on Ekko’s lap, while he’s holding her thighs spread wide apart.

His fingers gently spread her pussy lips giving you complete access to Jinx. You leaned down, lapping on her salty fluid and looking up for approval, just to see how Ekko deliciously sucking her neck while squeezing her petite breasts. Jinx’s face is flushed red, her breathing is heavy and ragged. And you feel jealous, but don't know who you're more jealous of.

You met Ekko a few months ago, after Jinx's ‘death’. You were always obsessed with her, her image. So getting her ex-boyfriend was more than an appealing idea to you. He just needed relief after his loss and you could enjoy the thought that every time you two kissed, you felt Jinx's lips on yours.

Her pleading gaze was making your excitement grow with each damn second. You opened your mouth, sticking out your tongue and letting your hot saliva teasingly drip over Jinx's aching clit.

Her breath hitched and Ekko was ready to muffle her moan with his mouth, pulling her into a sloppy kiss. Blood rushed to Jinx's cheeks as if she was in a fever, and you groaned contentedly at the sight, fucking her tight entrance with your tongue.

Ekko's fingers buried in your hair, pulling your head closer in between Jinx's thighs, while his other hand was pressed to her lower belly, enhancing the stimulation until she was almost crying with pleasure, desperately rubbing herself against your mouth.

“Fuck you… Both,” she whimpered plaintively in a hoarse voice, making Ekko chuckle slightly.

You felt her walls convulsed around your tongue, milking it, as she finished intensely. Her hips shook slightly as her inner muscles continued contracting.

You exhaled, raising on their level, just to lean to Jinx's lips in a messy kiss, letting her taste herself in your tongue.

“You’re… Amazing… I didn’t expect that” Jinx muttered weakly, leaning slightly down to leave hickeys on your neck and collarbone as Ekko grabbed your chin, pulling you into another kiss. He grabbed your ass with one hand and Jinx's breast with another, making you both gasped in surprise. You desperately rubbed yourself against Jinx's thigh, your need for release almost painful.

Finally you changed position, now you were sensually riding Ekko’s thick length while kissing Jinx who was sitting on his face, moaning softly into your mouth. Your hands run over his abs, enjoying its hardness as he slapped his hips against yours. You could feel every depth he was reaching inside of you and it was driving you crazy.

You leaned down to suck on Jinx's breast, teasingly trailing the counter of the cloud tattoo on her chest before gently biting her sensitive nipple. She gasped softly, arching her back from overwhelming sensations.

You could feel your own juices coating your thighs and Ekko's lower stomach. Then Jinx reached down to rub your clit, making you whimper with a delicious sense of fullness and her teasing. Your hips moved faster as you milked Ekko's cock, knocking needy moans out of him. He tried to push himself deeper inside you, not forgetting to take care of Jinx’s needy folds. Your hands moved all over their bodies, enjoying their lean physique.

With final thrust his cock twitched, pulsing softly as he released inside your tight walls. This thought alone was enough to send you over the edge. With a weak moan you collapsed into Jinx's arms, your thighs sticky and shaky as your inner muscles clenched around Ekko's cock prolonging your orgasm.

──────────.★..─

(I really don't like it, but I spent the whole night on this shit, so I just needed to post it)

[crushmeeren]

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

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

Master List Link

⋆｡ ﾟ ☁︎｡ ⋆ FEM READER ｡ ﾟ ☾ ﾟ ｡⋆ ｡

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

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

But he digresses…..

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[hanasnx]

need dick to pin my legs behind my head FR

MINORS DNI 18+

NOTES: DC is for December Event!

“Never knew you were so flexible.” DICK GRAYSON comments with a snide edge, somewhat an indiscernible tone while you’re concentrating on your position. Your legs have spread out in a full split, toes pointed so delicately in response to the invading feeling in your core. Instead of his every inch sheathing up into you, his big hands have grasped onto the globes of your ass, using them as leverage to roll your hips on him.

Your insides knead his shaft, your fragile state ensuring your dependency on him while he uses your body as he sees fit. His wrists bend all the way—shifting you forward and your tailbone to curl inward—and when they straighten, they pull the fat of your ass with them, sticking it out. Your hole stretches around him, and when it feels particularly raw, you whimper enough to stifle it by biting your lower lip. His chest rises and falls. A thin sheen of sweat percolates on his skin and your mouth waters at the sight of the salt you wanna taste on your tongue. Head thrown back, his pretty black hair cascades out and if you had a mind at all you’d tangle your fingers in it. Instead, you take what he’s giving you.

“So bendy.” Dick muses, and this time it’s far more reverent as he’s positioned on top of you. Swapped out for a lesser evil, you lay on your back while your legs are folded over you. Having stretched, your feet effortlessly reach your head. Cruelly, Dick tests your limits, his palms on your thighs pressing down in a gentle bob. When he finds that you’ve still got some ways to go, he grasps your ankles to mold them to his vision.

“Dick, just put it in—!” you cry, but he’s already picking your head up by your hair, and you feel an ache in your knees when he manages to cross your ankles behind your skull. It takes a second for you to register any sensation other than that sharp pain. That is, until his fat cock throbs inside your pussy realizing what a tight fit you are when he’s twisted you up.

[blueberrisdove-sideblog]

hicc gymnastics roomie mydei fucks the shi outta of bratty reader ToT

૮ ˃̵֊ ˂̵ ა warnings : nsfw/smut, fem!reader, vaginal, doggy style, hair pulling, implied dubcon, sub and dom dynamic.

You knew exactly how to piss Mydei off. It was easy, really—just a few snide remarks here and there, a teasing flick of your fingers against his toned arms when he was stretching, a deliberately careless attitude when he was trying to focus on training.

"Mydei, you’re such a tryhard," you’d giggled earlier, flopped lazily on the gym mats while he practiced his parallel bar routine. "Are you training for gold, or just compensating?"

He didn’t answer. He never did when he was in the zone, but you saw the tick in his jaw, the tension in his shoulders. And that was enough to make you grin.

The problem was, you weren’t expecting him to snap tonight.

You weren’t expecting him to pin you down in your shared dorm after practice, his knee shoving between your thighs, his fingers wrapping around your jaw as he forced you to look at him.

"You’ve been testing me all damn week," he growled, voice low and rough. His golden hair clung to his forehead, sweat from hours of training making his muscles gleam under the dim light. "Do you think I’m just gonna let you get away with it?"

Your breath hitched. Your bravado wavered for a second—but you weren’t about to back down. "Oh? What, are you gonna discipline me, big shot?"

His smirk was sharp, dangerous. "That’s exactly what I’m gonna do."

He flipped you over like you weighed nothing, pressing you down into the mattress, his hand sliding into your hair and yanking. Hard. A whimper tore from your throat as your back arched involuntarily, pushing your ass against his hips.

"That’s more like it," he muttered, his free hand gliding down your spine, shoving up your tank top to expose your bare back. Then lower, lower—until his fingers curled around the waistband of your shorts and yanked them down, taking your panties with them.

You gasped as the cool air met your skin, but the sound turned into a moan when he shoved two fingers between your folds, spreading the slick gathering there.

"Bratty little thing," he mused, dragging his fingers along your pussy, rubbing your clit just enough to make your hips twitch. "You act like a pain in the ass, but look at you. Dripping for me already."

You bit your lip, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response.

He laughed—low and knowing—before pulling his fingers away. You barely had time to whine before you felt it. The thick press of his cock against your entrance, the blunt head rubbing against your slit, teasing, taunting.

"Mydei—"

Your voice cut off into a sharp cry as he thrust in, stretching you open in one slow, agonizing push. Your nails dug into the sheets as he bottomed out, filling you so deep you swore you could feel him in your stomach.

"Fuck," he groaned, hips rolling as he pulled out just enough to slam back in, the force knocking the air from your lungs. "This is what you needed, huh?"

His grip tightened in your hair as he set a brutal pace, his cock pounding into you with every thrust, pushing you further into the mattress. Your tits bounced with each snap of his hips, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room, mingling with your gasps and his rough grunts.

"Mydei, s-slow down—"

"Not a chance." His hand slipped down your body, fingers finding your clit and rubbing harsh circles, sending shocks of pleasure through your core. "You wanted my attention so bad. Now you’ve got it."

You clenched around him, body trembling as the pressure built in your stomach, hot and unbearable. His name spilled from your lips like a plea, like a curse, and he drank it all in with a growl.

"Come on," he muttered, hips snapping harder, sharper. "Be a good girl and cum for me."

And you did—your pussy spasming around him as your orgasm ripped through you, leaving you shaking under him, barely able to hold yourself up.

But Mydei wasn’t done.

He kept fucking you through it, fucking you harder, chasing his own high. His grip in your hair tightened as he pulled you up, forcing your back against his sweat-slicked chest. You were barely coherent as his thrusts grew erratic, his breath ragged against your ear.

"Taking me so well now," he muttered, voice rough. "Not such a brat anymore, huh?"

And with one final thrust, he groaned, burying himself deep as he came, warmth spilling inside you. You moaned, body spent, muscles trembling from overstimulation.

For a moment, there was only the sound of heavy breathing, of Mydei’s lips ghosting against your shoulder. Then, he chuckled, pulling out, watching the way his cum dripped down your thighs.

"Maybe I should fuck the attitude out of you more often," he murmured, dragging his fingers along your sensitive clit, making you jolt.

You turned your head, just enough to glare at him. "F—Fuck you."

His smirk was all sharp edges. "Oh, you will."

Mydei’s grip on your hips was firm, keeping you from collapsing completely onto the mattress. Your thighs trembled as the aftershocks of your orgasm left you weak, your pussy still clenching around nothing, oversensitive and leaking with his cum.

But you weren’t stupid—you could hear it in his breathing, feel it in the way his hands lingered on your body, possessive and wanting. He wasn’t done.

"You’re still mouthing off after I fucked you dumb?" His voice was lower now, almost amused, but there was that same dangerous edge to it. His fingers ghosted over the curve of your ass before smacking it, hard, making you jolt forward. "Guess I haven’t fucked you enough yet."

You barely had time to register what was happening before he was forcing you back onto all fours, spreading your knees wider, pressing his cock against your swollen entrance again. Your body shuddered as the thick head rubbed against your sensitive clit, your hips twitching involuntarily.

"Mydei—wait, I—"

"Wait?" His laugh was a breathy, condescending thing as he dragged the tip along your slick folds, teasing you, letting you feel every inch of him. "Now you wanna play nice? Cute."

He didn’t wait. He never waited.

With one sharp thrust, he sheathed himself inside you again, burying himself to the hilt in one smooth motion. Your breath hitched into a broken moan, your walls fluttering around him, still overstimulated from the first round. Your arms gave out beneath you, your cheek pressing into the sheets as he set a brutal pace immediately, hips snapping forward with no restraint.

"Fuck, you’re still so tight." His voice was rough, his hands gripping your waist like he was anchoring himself. "Like this pussy was made for me."

Your hands curled into the sheets, breath coming in short gasps as he fucked you deeper, harder, dragging his cock along all the spots that made you keen. Every thrust pushed you further into the mattress, the wet slap of skin against skin echoing in the room, filthy and obscene.

He let go of your waist just to grab your hair again, yanking your head back so you had no choice but to arch against him. His lips were hot against your ear, his breath ragged as he growled, "Tell me, does this feel like I’m compensating now?"

You whined, legs shaking as he rolled his hips just right, his cock pressing against that spot inside you that made your vision blur. "F-fuck—"

"Yeah?" He smirked against your skin, biting down on your shoulder just enough to make you yelp. "What was that? Didn’t catch it, baby."

He let go of your hair only to slide his hand beneath you, fingers finding your clit again. You gasped, body jerking as he rubbed harsh, fast circles, pushing you closer to the edge.

"Mydei—" You choked on a sob, your walls tightening around him as another orgasm tore through you, white-hot and overwhelming. Your thighs shook as pleasure crashed over you, leaving you utterly spent beneath him.

But Mydei didn’t stop.

His hips stuttered, his thrusts growing erratic as he chased his own release, panting against your skin. "That’s it," he muttered, his fingers digging into your hips as he fucked you through your high. "So good for me now, aren’t you?"

You could barely respond, your body limp, completely at his mercy. That seemed to drive him even further—he groaned, his grip tightening, and with one final thrust, he buried himself deep inside you, filling you up again with a sharp, low curse.

For a moment, there was only the sound of heavy breathing, of his chest rising and falling against your back, of the way his cum dripped down your thighs, sticky and warm.

Then, after a beat of silence, Mydei chuckled.

"Guess I’ll have to keep fucking that attitude out of you."

His hand slipped back down between your legs, fingers teasing your oversensitive clit again, and your entire body jolted at the sensation.

You barely had the strength to turn your head, glaring at him through half-lidded eyes. "You’re a fucking menace."

Mydei smirked, leaning down to press a kiss to your shoulder, deceptively soft. "And you love it."

© 2024-2025 blueberrisdove-sideblog all rights reserved. pretty please, do not steal my dividers, translate and plagiarize any of my works, or either repost my works in any other platform without asking, thank you!

[ddejavvu]

Cigar Burns - Logan Howlett x Reader

Contents/warnings: 18+, minors dni. obvious tw for smoking and cigar burns (on Logan). mild pain kink, giving and receiving. don't like don't read.

You're sure the copious amount of cigars that Logan smokes has to be doing something to his health, despite his supernatural healing abilities. But you can't ever bring yourself to nag too hard, not when they're clearly a release for Logan. What's even more interesting to you about his habit is that he frequently puts them out onto his skin, something you'd initially been horrified at. But time after time, you'd watched on and noticed new details about his bad habit; things you'd missed before, like the way he begins panting each time, or the way he shifts on his feet or in his seat.

You've finally come to the confusing but definite conclusion that Logan gets off on pain.

It's definitely not all he gets off on- you know that for a fact. He has plenty of other ways to get his dick hard, and you know them by heart, but you've watched him writhe in his seat one too many times to ignore the concept now.

"Logan?" You ask, sinking down to your knees in front of where he's settled into an armchair, "Can I put out your cigar?"

He'd already been prepping his palm for the smoldering sensation, but he pauses with an arched brow when you take your place at his feet.

"You wanna put it out?" He confirms, and you nod vigorously, hands settling on his thighs.

"You always put it out on your skin. And you- you like it," A shiver runs up your spine at your words, even though the accusation should be affecting Logan more. He keeps his expression steady and scrutinizing, and that makes the anticipation brewing in your stomach all the more intense.

Finally he grunts, "Alright. Do it."

He holds out his hands, one with the cigar pinched between them and one with an open palm, an invitation. You take the cigar from his left, then switch your attention to the right, but instead of lowering the burning cigar to his palm, you dart it down to the exposed, muscled flesh of his thigh. He's wearing only boxer briefs, and his legs are left mostly exposed- exposed enough for you to press the smoldering cigar to his inner thigh.

He moves with the speed of someone constantly hunted, and his hand is around your throat as a sharp growl leaves his throat raw before you can process anything. But your fingers never stop holding the cigar to his thigh, and his hand loosens its hold before you run out of breath.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" He grunts, hand still rough but not as constricting around your windpipe as he holds your head up to face him, "I gave you my hand."

"You like it." You repeat, shifting on your thighs as Logan's thighs tremble, his flesh searing.

"I- you're fucking crazy." He spits, shoving your hand away from his thigh when the cigar proves no longer lit, "You like hurting me?"

"You like being hurt," You nod at the chub of his cock in his briefs, rapidly stiffening as his skin heals and knits itself back together from the blemish, "You're hard."

"You're crazy." He repeats, taking the back of your head in his hand now to drag you forwards, pressing your face into the bulge in his briefs. It silences you, so that all you can do is breathe him in while he grumbles, "You're a fucking freak."

[angelplummie]

art humping your thigh while you're too busy analyzing his recent matches <33

mhm. u sit with your laptop in bed while art kisses your neck. he’s supposed to be watching too but he’s sleepy, he doesn’t wanna watch anymore, he wants to feel. he presses his lips to the base of your neck, just above your collar bone. you tilt your jaw up to allow his way with you, but you keep your eyes trained on the screen.

“you kept missing on thursday because you centre yourself to the left just a bit. he always hit it to the right and you had to scramble.”

“mm.”

his voice reverberated in your throat as his lips stayed against you.

“i don’t know if you’re playing this guy again, but it’s something to keep in mind.”

“ok.”

he moves over you, shifting his weight till both of his legs are either side of one of yours. he holds your shoulder like a child holds a teddy bear.

his head nestles into your neck, his hair tickles your chin, and you sigh.

“art im trying to help you. they’re fucking you. i don’t want to watch my husband get fucked on the court.”

“can you help me somewhere else?”

you readjust so you can see the laptop better, and kiss his scalp.

“help yourself.”

on the video, art lunges forward, his lean body extending as he grunts like a man and pounds the ball away. sweat pours from every pore on his forehead, chest, arms, and he shines in the sun. it cuts to his competitor, who grazes the ball with his racket to no avail.

in your bed, art presses down onto you, dragging himself backwards. he mewls, hoping to get more of your attention. instead of acknowledging him you pet his hair with a lazy wrist, eyes never leaving the screen. he was playing better now. he won the match after all, but it was still important to review his performance. if he got too comfortable he would start slipping. you needed him on a tight leash if he was going to keep crushing.

he rotates his hips, each time crushing your thigh with a force that must be painful to him. each layer of clothes that separated his flesh from yours slid against the other, the phantom of your touch driving him to desperation.

“you did well for this last set.”

“yeah?”

he pushed himself forward, and drew himself back raking his throbbing groin against your lower thigh. his breath shuddered on your chest. he was working up a rhythm, a dragging, quivering, breathless rhythm.

“yeah. no notes, donaldson.”

“hmm. thank you.”

“are you hard?”

“obviously.”

“i’m not helping you.”

“obviously.”

you laugh. you swirl your fingers in his cropped blonde hair.

“you can do it. i believe in you.”

he doesn’t reply, just groans. his knee was bent, and he held himself up ever so slightly so as to drive himself against you with the most force he could. in his shorts was a sticky, leaking cock, rubbed sensitive. in your panties was a wet, aching pussy. but one of you needed to think of his career.

on the video he sat down, a rest period, with his shirt off, leaning back with his legs spread.

“oh, fuck,” he said, teeth clenched.

you could feel the long thick imprint of his cock, and through all the fabric you could still feel it twitch. you sighed and closed the laptop as his humping quickened and his knee raised further between your legs. as he drove himself down upon you, he knocked his knee to the throbbing of your clit. you breathed deeply.

“you did a good job on thursday. i’m proud of you.”

“thank you. thank you.”

your hand moved to his back, tight from digging his fingers into your shoulder for purchase. he slammed his hips down, making a fwop fabric sounds. you grunted airily.

“that’s enough,” you breathed.

his hips stilled on top of you, pressed to you. he lifted his head, lips parted and cheekbones pink.

“you have a match tommorow. use it.”

[luvrrszn]

behind closed doors

BROTHER'S BSF!THEO NOTT x FEM READER (18+)

summary you're his best friend's little sister—off-limits, right?

warnings smut, theo's mean, fluff, angst i guess, idk

a/n guysssssssssss new week new obsession......soz send help

masterlist

being your older brother's best friend, theo was at your house all the time.

that meant he'd see you almost every day. the most gorgeous girl he'd ever seen, floating around. so close yet so far, always out of reach.

he knew he'd never be able to have you, no, your brother would never allow that. so he did the only other thing he could think of—be mean to you.

so he tormented you every day. called you names, even waited on your bed for you to come home so he could insult you about something new. you suspected it was just his way of getting to see you every day.

he acts like you're the biggest pain in the ass, just his best friend's annoying little sister. but the second nobody's looking? his hands are on you.

—

sleeping with him is casual, no strings attached. theo sneaks out of your brother's room at night after he's fast asleep, making sure that he never ever finds out what's going on.

when your brother is finally out of town for the weekend, theo still comes over. the two of you are watching a movie on the tv in your room, lying on your bed. his arm is wrapped around your shoulder, your head leaning against his chest. his other hand traces up and down your inner thigh under the blanket.

it's one of those rare moments in the in-between.

in-between fucking and being at each others' throats.

theo's hand slips lower, toying with the waistband of your pink lace panties. he traces over your wet cunt, chuckling under his breath, "amore mio, you're dripping, just for me, huh?"

"shut u—" you're immediately silenced when theo plunges two long fingers into your pussy.

a smug smile spreads across his face, “you’re squeezing me so tight, you’re gonna break my fingers aren’t ya? if your brother knew how much you think about me, he’d probably hex you himself.”

“t-theo, stop talking about my brother and start moving your damn fingers.” you pants, writhing against the palm of his hand, aching for some friction against your clit.

“as you wish, amore mio.”

—

one night, you’re sneaking back in after a party. your hair is disheveled, makeup smudged, slightly tipsy and boots in your hand as you try to close the front door as quietly as possible.

theo is the last person you expect to see. you curse under your breath. why is he always in your damn house?

the open kitchen layout gives him the perfect view of you sneaking back in at 3am. he’s leaning against the kitchen counter, grey sweatpants hanging low, black tshirt hugging his biceps. he drinks from a glass of water, a dark look on his face.

you roll your eyes as you put your boots down on the floor, preparing yourself for what’s to come.

“a bit late, isn’t it, piccola?”

you roll your eyes and brush past him, opening the fridge to grab some orange juice. gulping down the juice, you reply, "it's really none of your business, nott."

wrong answer.

before you can react, he's in front of you, blocking your path. he's so much taller, broader than you. the amused glint in his eye is gone.

"see, that's where you're wrong," he murmurs, tilting your chin up with two fingers so you meet his gaze, "it is absolutely my business, because we wouldn't want you messing around with young, dumb, horny boys would we?"

his forearms rest on either side of your head, pinning you against the refrigerator.

"oh yeah? and what are you?" you scoff.

"oh, bella, you already know the answer to that."

and you do. he's stronger, older, perhaps even more mature (when it comes to anything other than you) than whatever company you're keeping.

"i swear, you'd better not tell my brother about this." you groan, ducking under his arms as you beeline for the sink.

"there's no such thing as a free lunch, piccola."

and that's how you end up on your knees in your bedroom, short skirt hiked up as you gag around his fucking massive cock. his hands are tangled in your hair, mercilessly forcing you to take in every inch of him. tears stream down your face, spit pooling at the corner of your mouth. you look like a mess, but at that moment as theo looks down at you through half-lidded eyes, he swears he's never seen a prettier girl than you.

you look up at theo and take in the sight before you. his head is thrown back, hair messy. his jaw is clenched, and he smirks at you. you run your hands over his chest and toned abs, clawing at his biceps.

he's perfect.

—

oh, and when he catches you at a party?

it's over.

he drags you out by your wrists, forcing you into his blacked-out mercedes. he's driving well over the speed limit, desperate to get off the road before he loses his shit.

he'd seen you dancing with some guy you knew from down the street, dress too short, too tight, too low-cut.

he has one hand on the steering wheel, another running through his hair as his jaw clenches.

"didn't take you for the easy type, but i guess i shouldn't be surprised. you're not special, you know. boys will say anything to get them what they want."

his words hit like a slap. your stomach twists, and for a second, all you can do is stare at him, lips parted and heart pounding.

you want to ask what the hell he's talking about, but you already know.

he saw you dancing with that guy. saw the way his hands slid down your waist, how he leaned in close and whispered things in your ear. how you let out that sweet laugh, one that always made theo want to say "fuck it" and just kiss you in front of everyone. he saw the way you let it happen.

and he hated it.

and now he's punishing you for it.

when you remain silent, he continues, "you looked fucking ridiculous in there, you know that?"

and you feel so silly. to think that that evening, you'd picked out your favourite dress, made sure your makeup looked good, just in hopes that theo would notice you at that party.

"you're being cruel, theo. stop it." you murmur, turning to stare out of the window. you don't even notice that you've started crying.

when you finally notice, you wipe it away quickly. you hope that theo didn't notice, but of course he did. at that moment, he pulls into the driveway of your house, turning off the engine.

theodore nott has seen a lot of things—but he has never seen you cry like this. and definitely not because of him.

and it makes something in his chest clench.

"oh, for fuck’s sake—" his voice drops, no longer sharp but still frustrated. he drags a hand through his hair, exhaling harshly, like he’s angry at himself now, too.

for a moment, he doesn’t say anything. he just stares at you, at the way you’re biting your lip, blinking rapidly, trying so hard to hold it in.

then? he moves.

his hand reaches for your thigh, fingers curling around it, grounding. not forceful, but firm.

"hey." his voice is softer now, rough but not cruel.

"don't do that. don't fucking cry over me."

you try to shift away, but theo's grip tightens. not rough—just enough to make you stay.

"i didn't mean—fuck." he sighs again, shaking his head.

his thumb brushes against your knee, almost like a reflex, and for the first time ever, he looks uncertain.

"look at me."

you don't. you can't.

so he makes you.

his fingers curl beneath your chin, tilting your face towards him.

he isn't angry anymore. not at you. not really. his jaw is still clenched, his brows furrowed, but now? he looks almost desperate. like he wants to fix everything he's done, but he doesn't know how.

"i didn't mean it like that, bella."

you sniff, voice shaking slightly, "then how did you mean it?"

and that's when he just sighs. a weak, defeated sigh escapes the big bully of a man.

"i just—fuck, i don’t want to see you with other guys, alright?"

"why? we're not anything. you've made it clear, multiple times."

silence follows. his grip tightens.

then, he finally speaks. rough, low, honest.

"because i want you to be mine."

for a moment, you just stare at him.

his confession hangs in the air between the two of you. you're still hurt, still pissed. but something inside you shifts.

"say it again." your voice is quieter now, still laced with frustration but weaker.

theo's jaw clenches. he’s not used to being this vulnerable. but he doesn’t look away.

"I want you to be mine."

and then he moves. his hand slides to the back of your neck, fingers threading into your hair. he hesitates for just a second, like he’s giving you a chance to stop him.

but you don't.

so he kisses you.

it's not soft. not at first. it’s heated, desperate, full of all the tension that had been boiling between you. his grip is firm, like he’s afraid you’ll pull away. but you don’t—you kiss him back just as fiercely, hands tugging at his shirt, anchoring yourself to him.

it’s messy and overwhelming and everything you’ve both been pretending not to want.

when he finally pulls back, both of you are breathless.

"we’re so fucked," you whisper.

theo smirks, brushing his thumb across your swollen lips. “yeah. but you like it.”

and the worst part?

you do.

[illbegottenfaith]

kiss me better, love

as the two of you stumble into bed after a Valentine's dinner date, theo realises it's not fair how much he loves you (theo nott x reader)

a/n - valentines fic #2 !!!! thought of this idea in a class literally 5 hours ago and idk if its the sleep deprivation but this is sooo self-indulgent writing this had me giggling and kicking my feet frfr 😭 all I have to say is if this isnt me and my future partner I dont want him I send him BACK

tropes/warnings - physical touch as a love language, angry theo but also soft theo 🥰🥰 no (read: minimal) proof reading we die like men etc etc

word count - 1.5k

taglist - @hzdhrtss @justaproudperson @ebriton @thaliashifts @friedfreyfries @allie-sturns

The door shuts behind you both, plunging the room into near-darkness. You barely take a step before bumping into Theo, your knee knocking against his thigh, your hands flying to his shoulders as you stumble.

"Merlin,” he mutters, steadying you with a grip at your waist. “Can you - ”

“You're the one barging into me,” you shoot back, tucking a lock behind your ear as you tighten your grip on Theo’s shoulder, making him wince.

“Anyway, like I was saying, it hasn’t even been a week since Missy - ”

Theo exhales sharply, blindly reaching for the zipper at your back. “Is this something I really need to be hearing right now?” he asks somewhat waspishly.

“Yes.” You barely register his tone, still preoccupied. “So I walk into Charms in Tuesday, expecting to find Josh understandably distraught and/or in mourning. But who do I see him chatting up instead?"

"Hair."

You gather your hair up in one hand to hold it up and go right on talking. You barely notice Theo's largely ineffective attempts at pushing your sleeves off your shoulders.

"Pansy Parkinson! Pansy flipping Parkinson. What, does he think he's a free man now or something? Melissa's halfway across the world, she's not dead."

"Mhm."

You sigh exaggeratedly at his lackluster responses.

“Well? Don't you have to anything to add?"

“Yeah - hold still.” You This is just ridiculous, Theo was thinking. What kind of dress needed buttons and a zip?

You huff, switching your hair to your other hand. “Honestly, Theo, have you listened to a single thing I’ve been saying the past hour?”

Theo groans, still fumbling at your lower back. He had figured out the buttons were decorative, bless him, but your dress was on the more delicate side, and if he ripped it, he'd never hear the end of it. “Uh, yeah, that Abernathy guy...he’s two-timing Melissa?"

“He is not,” you say, peering over your shoulder to see what was taking Theo so long. Seriously, what was going on back there? It doesn't help, though, not when you can barely make him out in the dark. “not yet at least. He might. And if he's going to, well, isn't it better she finds out now rather than ten years down the road? Or am I an awful friend for thinking that?"

"Thinking what?" Theo asks distractedly.

"Willing my best friend's boyfriend into cheating on her."

Before he can formulate a response, your stubborn zipper finally decides to cooperate and moves down an inch - snagging at his finger. A sharp hiss cuts through the dark, followed by some emphatic, muttered swearing.

You pause.

“…what was that?”

Theo slips his injured finger out of his mouth briefly, his voice strained as he struggles to keep the pain out of his tone. “Nothing.”

You shift slightly, trying to catch his expression in the dark, but he’s suspiciously still now, his hands nowhere on you anymore.

“Theo.”

“I’m fine.”

Your brow furrows. Then, his suddenly subdued demeanour and oddly neutral tone clicks in your head.

"Did you hurt yourself?"

There’s an immediate rustle, followed by Theo’s very delayed attempt at nonchalance.

“…no.”

Oh, you could throttle him. “Was it the zip again?”

“You keep saying that like I do it intentionally - I never mean to-”

“And now you're trying to suck the pain away like a child?”

“Would you rather I bleed all over your dress?”

“I’d rather you watch what you’re doing so you don’t get maimed by a bloody zip in the first place!”

Theo exhales sharply, his frustration palpable. “I keep telling you - I don't-”

“You never mean to, but here we are.” You cross your arms. “Third time in two weeks, Theo. This is getting ridiculous. Should I hire a nurse for our dates? A medic? Do you need to start taking my clothes off under medical supervision? Is that what we've come to?"

Theo glares at you (or the shadowy figure he was mostly sure was you), trying to pull his attention away from the stinging pain. “Oh, don’t start - ”

“You don’t think before you do things.”

Theo groans. “I think plenty.”

“No, you rush plenty. Really, it’s a miracle you still have all your limbs -”

He rolls his eyes. “Oh, here we go.”

“First, you burn yourself on my curling iron -”

“Okay, one, you shouldn't be leaving your things out like that.”

“Then you cut yourself opening a tin of biscuits -”

Theo tips his head back in exasperation. “You sh - you literally shoved it at me!”

“ - and now my zipper is out to get you?” You throw your hands up. “What are you telling me, Teddy? That every item I own has a personal vendetta against you?”

"Mattheo agrees with me, you know," you continue smugly, in a so-there kind of tone. "He told me about that time you nearly broke your neck falling down that flight of stairs on the way to Transfiguration, which wouldn't have happened if you weren't - "

"Rushing, I know." Theo steps back as if to escape. “Merlin, you are insufferable - ”

“And you are reckless.”

“I don't need you to lecture me.”

“You’d be fine if you just listened to m - show me your finger.”

A brief struggle ensues.

You lunge; he sidesteps. You fumble blindly for his hand; he twists out of reach.

“For fuck’s sake -”

“Stop being so difficult.”

“I’m not being difficult, you’re being a menace.”

“At least I don't get mauled by zippers.”

“I'm telling you, that zipper has it out for me."

“Well, maybe if you weren’t always in such a bloody rus - ”

“Enough with the rushing!”

“I can't help it if you never learn - ”

“I do learn,” he snaps, stepping back further - only for you to grab onto his wrist and pull.

There’s a shuffle, a scuffle as Theo stumbles back into the dresser with a thud.

“Oi - ”

“Oh, stop squirming, you big baby.”

“You stop grabbing- ”

“Theodore, you are injured. Act like it.”

“I am n- ”

“Then give me your hand.”

A long, heavy pause. Then -

“No.”

You groan, exasperated. “Merlin, you are the most - ”

“And you are relentless - ”

But at last, in an impressive show of determination, you manage to latch onto his wrist, wrenching his hand towards you before he can twist away again. Theo groans in frustration, but you’ve already found the wound—his fingertip, warm and damp against yours.

“Oh, for - ” You tighten your grip as he tries to pull away. “You are bleeding!”

Theo tenses, his entire body bristling. “It’s nothing.”

“On my zipper,” you say incredulously. “Again.”

He exhales sharply as if this is somehow your fault. “You don’t need to make a whole production of it - ”

“I told you to be careful - ”

“And I was - ”

“Clearly not enough!”

Theo groans, tipping his head back against the dresser. “I’m buying you a tear-away dress next Valentine’s.”

You bite back a smirk. “I’d like to see you figure that one out.”

He mutters something under his breath that you don’t quite catch, but you’re already bringing his hand up, brushing your lips over the wound.

He stills.

The fight, the irritation, the tension - all of it dissolves instantly under your touch.

You press another kiss there, softer this time. Through a sliver of moonlight cutting through the curtains, he sees your face - your impish expression, your eyes, alight with amusement and plain adoration. You watch his face too - his furrowed brows relaxing, the slight part of his lips, his sharp features softened by something indiscernible.

His eyes flick to yours.

And Merlin, it’s not fair, he thinks. It’s not fair how you can drive him to the brink of insanity one second and then look at him like that the next, like you could never get your fill. It's enough to make him think you're worth all the trouble you put him through. It's enough to make him want to slow down. Merlin knows the last thing he wants is to rush through his days with you.

“…better?” you murmur against his skin after a moment.

Theo exhales, rolling his eyes as though he isn’t already relenting. "It's a start," he says grudgingly.

Your smile widens as you bring his hand up again, pressing another kiss there, then another, then another.

Theo groans, tipping his head back again, his frustration dwindling with every sympathetic brush of your lips.

“You like this,” you tease.

“Shut up,” he mumbles, but his voice has softened, his body relaxing into yours.

You grin, pressing a kiss to his wrist. Then his palm.

Theo groans again, for reasons unrelated to his earlier irritation, his fingers curling at your waist.

You laugh softly. “Want me to kiss you better everywhere?”

Theo smiles weakly, pulling you closer. “That's the best idea you've had all night."

[puptrefied]

　thank god cait's uniform has pockets to hide the pink vibrator remote because she's planning on using it during the whole ceremony. yeah, yeah, guard the stage, look out for any suspicious people and whatever… she's far too focused on the way you fidget with the fabric of your uniform as you look around, squirming a little in a way that makes her look down to hold back a small giggle. not wanting to draw attention to herself.

sneaky little shit, got as far away from you as possible to not hear any complaints.

she just wasn't having it today. no amount of whining and puppy dog eyes you give could get her to back down. hopefully that'll teach you to stop getting on her last nerve at the most inopportune times.

keeping her in bed for longer than necessary because 'you were cold’ on a sunny and nowhere near cold morning, the little touches under her nightgown with those coy eyes that hid your true intentions ( or so you thought because she can read you like an open book by now ), the gentle kisses and bites on her neck that quickly turned heated and ended up with a couple hickeys that were a pain to cover before arriving at the gala. late.

we're you dumb or did you really think she'd be nice enough to wait until you guys got to her bedroom to turn on the vibrator?

either way, you might regret agreeing to her little idea.

more people are starting to arrive but her duty is to be there and intervene only if something bad happens so she can keep having fun while you pat down people to let them in with a forced, polite smile. you shift on your feet, pretending to adjust the holster at your thigh. It’s an innocent enough motion to anyone watching, but caitlyn knows better.

her thumb grazes the remote in her pocket, toggling the setting up one notch higher. a quick glance in your direction tells her all she needs to know: the way your head dips slightly, teeth pressing into your bottom lip as your hand briefly grips the table for balance. you recover quickly, but not before her eyes catch the faint tremble in your legs.

perfect.

when she finally makes her way over to you, the calm authority in her tone betrays none of her mischief. “I’ll be taking her to assist with another entrance.” she tells the nearby guard, who barely spares a glance before nodding in approval.

her hand is warm and steady on your lower back as she leads you away, her grip firm enough to keep you from protesting. not that you could form a coherent argument right now, not with your mind clouded by the relentless buzzing and caitlyn’s touch.

she is not taking you to the other entrance, she's obviously taking you backstage to an empty room.

immediately closing the door, leaning her body weight against it just in case, pulling out the remote from her pocket to turn it up. the buzzing in between your legs now louder and definitely more overwhelming.

“fuck, cait, I'm sorry—” the quiver in your voice, the way you had to lean onto the desk behind you to hold yourself up while your knees trembled and threatened to give up made something flutter in caitlyn's belly, damn.

“sorry?” she repeats, her tone silky but laced with mockery. she holds up the remote in one hand, her thumb hovering over the button as if she was hesitating. “darling, you’re always sorry. but somehow, you never learn.”

she presses the button, and the buzzing between your legs ramps up another level, sharp and insistent. your breath catches, and your knees almost buckle at the sensation. “cait—caitlyn, please,” you stammer, your voice barely above a whisper, clear desperation.

“you had so much to say earlier this morning,” the enforcer pointed out with a soft laugh, taking a step closer. her free hand reaches out to tilt your chin up, forcing you to meet her eyes. “is my name all you can manage to say now? how funny.”

your thighs clench together in a futile attempt to dull the vibration, but it only makes it worse. heat blooms in your cheeks, spreading down your neck, as you bite your lip to muffle the whimper threatening to escape. she notices—of course, she does—and leans in, her lips brushing against yours in a rather sloppy kiss.

she wasn't supposed to kiss you, she never does when trying to teach a lesson but she couldn't resist this time... sigh.

“no need to hold back,” she murmurs against your lips, “we’re alone here.”

“i can't...” you manage, your voice breaking. tears prick at the corners of your eyes as the overwhelming pleasure inside you.

“yes, you can,” she says firmly, one hand brushes along your side, a grounding touch that only makes the intensity more acute. “you always can.”

she watches you intently, taking in every shudder, every gasp, every tremble of your legs as you struggle to stay upright. her chest swells with satisfaction at the sight of you, undone and helpless under her control.

when your legs finally give out, she catches you effortlessly; pulling you close, stroking your back to let you pant against her shoulder, trailing soft kisses down your jaw as she presses the button to turn the vibrator off…only to start it back at the lowest setting.

“don't look at me like that,” caitlyn whispers, a tiny ( cruel ) smile playing at her lips as she guides you down to the chair. “you already had your fun in the morning, am I not allowed to do the same?”

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