#reader forgot wanderer

[lloovvv]

A Forgotten Bond

Wanderer x Fem!Y/N. fluff, a sprinkle of angst, reunion, will have three parts, proper capitalization this time

decided to feed y’all bcs i don’t want to be gone this long

words: 1,215

sypnosis (this’ll be kind of long): Wanderer, after getting his memories from the past back after erasing himself from Irminsul, avoids you at all cost. why? because back when he was a harbinger, you were a close friend, or maybe more, and you endured all his breakdowns, harsh treatment, venomous words, all while not abandoning him. after getting the electro gnosis and running away from the Fatui to become an archon with dottore’s help, he abandoned you without a word, only muttering about Sumeru. therefore, he thinks that you don’t deserve meeting him again. but Nahida, our dear archon, has other plans in where she’ll push him to meet you again at any chance she gets. due to the Irminsul erasure, memories of him are gone from you completely, meaning this leads to a fresh start.

——————————————————————————————————

Wanderer stood alone, his back pressed against the stone wall of the quiet Sumeru courtyard, watching as the gentle breeze stirred the leaves of the trees above. It had been days since the event that brought him back to his true self, the moment when his memories returned like a flood—memories of his past, his anger, his pain, his love, and his loss. Most of all, he remembered her.

You.

He closed his eyes, gripping his hand into a fist, the memory of your face—the kindness in your eyes, the way you always put up with his cruel words, and yet never once abandoned him. How you stood by him, even when he treated you like a pile of mud, how you loved him when he believed he wasn’t worthy of love.

But that was before. That was before he made a choice to sever the last strings of his humanity, to take the Electro Gnosis, to run from the Fatui and his past, and to rise above it all. He had chosen power over everything else, and in doing so, he had abandoned you—left you behind with nothing but the echoes of his betrayal.

Now, after losing all that, after everything that had come back to him, he was ashamed. Ashamed to face the one person who had always been there, the one person who had stood by his side when no one else would.

He didn’t deserve you.

But fate, also known as Nahida’s meddling, it seemed, had a different plan.

“Hey, Wanderer!” Nahida’s voice broke his thoughts, light and insistent as always.

His eyes snapped open, his heart racing at the sound of her voice. She had found him again.

“You’ve been avoiding her,” Nahida started, her tone casual, but the glint in her eyes told him she knew more than she let on. “You know you can’t keep running forever.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Wanderer said sharply, turning to face her. He tried to mask the pain in his voice, but Nahida saw right through him. She always did. Even without reading his mind. She’s not the Goddess of Wisdom for nothing.

“You think I don’t understand?” Nahida crossed her arms, her expression softening. “You think you can just forget everything, including her? You think it’s easy to erase something like that? You can’t outrun your past, Wanderer. Especially not when it comes to her.”

“I’ve already made my choices,” he muttered, his voice heavy. “I don’t deserve to see her again, not after everything I did. After all the hurt I caused her…”

Nahida’s eyes softened. “[y/n] doesn’t remember. She doesn’t remember you as Scaramouche or Kunikuzushi, thanks to Irminsul’s erasure. But she’s still forgiving, Wanderer. And you’re still deserving. You deserve a chance to start over. Maybe this time, you can do it right.”

His chest tightened at the mention of your name, a part of him angry, a part of him scared. “I don’t deserve her forgiveness. Not after what I did. She deserves better than me.”

“You don’t get to decide that,” Nahida said, her voice sharp, the authority of an Archon present in her words. “She’ll find her own path, but you have to face her. At least give her the chance to make her own decision. Otherwise, you’ll never know what could’ve been.”

Before he could protest, Nahida was already gone, vanishing into the wind with her usual quiet grace. Wanderer stood there, alone again, his thoughts swirling like a storm.

He had been running from his own past for so long. But now, there was no escaping it.

——————————————————————————————————

It didn’t take long before Wanderer found himself near the bustling market square, his heart pounding in his chest. The sound of the crowd, the merchants haggling, the smell of sweet pastries filled the air, but his mind was elsewhere. Somewhere in that crowd, you were waiting, oblivious to the person he once was, to the pain he had caused you.

He could see you now, standing near a stall, bargaining with a merchant. Your laughter after you won the bargain, light and carefree, rang out across the square. You looked the same — your smile, the way you held yourself, the joy in your eyes.

But you didn’t know him. Not as he was. Not as Scaramouche, or the one who had left you broken and abandoned. You knew nothing of the boy he had been, the man he had become, and the pain he carried.

He wanted to turn around, to leave before you could see him. But something inside him — the part of him that remembered the warmth of your touch, the softness of your voice, the way you have always believed in him — held him in place.

Wanderer took a deep breath and stepped forward, his heart heavy, his mind racing.

You turned at the sound of footsteps, your eyes landing on the stranger who had appeared before you. A man, with, honestly some striking features, his indigo hair in a jellyfish cut and a giant kasa hat on his head. There was something… familiar about him. The way his eyes held a weight, like he was carrying the world on his shoulders, and the way he stood, almost as if waiting for something.

For a moment, you two simply stared at each other, the air between thick with unspoken words.

“Do I know you?” you asked, your voice indifferent, feeling confused at the stranger staring at you.

Wanderer swallowed, his throat dry. “I… I don’t think so,” he replied, his voice low, almost too quiet.

For a moment, there was an awkward silence. You didn’t know why, but you felt… drawn? to this man, like there was something you were supposed to remember. But it was fleeting, slipping away before you could grasp it.

He took a step back, as if realizing something, his gaze dropping to the ground. “I’m sorry,” he said, his words heavy with regret. “I didn’t mean to intrude.”

Before you could say anything else, he turned to leave, his back already retreating into the crowd.

But something inside you stirred—an impulse you couldn’t explain. Without thinking, you called out to him, “Wait!”

Wanderer stopped, his body tense, as if caught between two worlds.

“Do you…” you hesitated, the question lingering in the air, your hand fidgeting as a sign of nervousness. “Do you need help with something?”

Wanderer turned slowly, his eyes meeting hers again. The briefest flicker of recognition passed between the two, but it was gone as quickly as it came. He opened his mouth to say something but closed it again, the words unspoken.

“I… I think I’ve made a mistake,” he whispered. “Goodbye.”

With that, he vanished into the crowd, leaving you standing there, your heart racing, a strange sense of loss tugging at you.

——————————————————————————————————

Wanderer didn’t know what he was running from. But as he disappeared into the streets of Sumeru, away from you and the fleeting chance to right the wrongs of the past, he realized something: no matter how much he tried to forget, he could never escape the truth.

He didn’t deserve you, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t try.

And maybe, just maybe, he could find a way to make it right.

[simonisferal]

view me as a god — self aware (yandere) wanderer x gn reader

warnings: self aware au, reader is viewed as the player, reader is obsessed with genshin in the beginning, codependency (aether and wanderer), wanderer develops a victim mentality, traveler is a goat, aether is he/they (you'll know what I'm talking about)

notes: wanderer lore spoilers to those who haven't read, that one event in 1.6 spoilers to those who haven't played; if my account were self aware, i'd actually kms — the characters don't need to see my bio 😭 / i didnt know what team to put him with so i used my own / congrats king on your second rerun 🙏

it was never intended to be taken this far. this little game you've played for years without end had begun to take your social life away and left you in the dark, the only light you saw was the one on your screen.

the sweet voices of the characters , the beautiful scenery and designs, and the story of the fictional world was so alluring you barely slept. thank god your career had the option of working at home so no other potential coworker could've said something about your disheveled hair or your unpleasant smell.

your life was as perfect as can be as long as you see a picture or anything related to your video game! codependency? what is that? shh, you can survive an hour without it!

fuck. once in his many lives, he had never felt so cold. what was wrong with him?

with every name he gained, another tie to his joints tightened its grip on the wanderer, trapping him from the pleasant feel on calmness but the name the traveler gave it felt so pure and warm like a toasty fireplace during the snow. the puppet hadn't felt any warmth in his body since niwa's irreversible death as his still-beating and bleeding heart has been put inside the chest of wanderer. but now it was gone, just like the other feelings of happiness and sweet childish dreams.

"traveler? why'd we stop?" xiangling asks as she helped bennett sit down beside the anemo statue of seven in windrise to heal his injuries as quickly as possible. layla helps the poor boy eat something she packed into her inventory.

the traveler could only stay silent before letting out a small whisper as the wind slows down, the statue of seven only shining so dimly, not like it does when it feels something — someone greater. "i don't feel it anymore." they sit down on the broken stone steps leading to the statue.

"feel? feel what?" layla mutters, laying her head on the globe she keeps near as she rests her eyes. the traveler doesn't respond as they look through their bag for something. they obviously panic, their chest falling down and rising up quicker than a rabbit's. their golden chest plaque dims ever so slightly, just as the windrise statue's light. "the, uhh... uhm, the wind."

of course the idiots fell for it, wanderer thinks as he hears the collective agreement from his party. he doesn't bother setting down his hat as he sits beside a totem near the staircase, not bothering to show his respect to the anemo god or his peers. they're just there to help him please them, to eliminate any obstacle in the traveler's way as their form of appreciation for what they've done for their accounted nations. but they, not the traveler but they weren't pleased.

is that the reason wanderer couldn't feel their warmth? he didn't attack fast enough, hit hard enough, dodge quick enough? was he not enough for the person behind the stars? the dweller who called "earth" their home?

"why are we in windrise, if i can ask?" layla sits beside the traveler. her curls curl around her while her golden accents let out small hymns. "to... to uhh...heal bennett. i do feel very bad for him with his bad luck and all..."

wanderer knew it was a white lie. sure, bennett had been hurt badly even with layla's shielding and guoba's defensive demeanor towards the poor child and his bad luck was only getting worse with the amount of constant traveling the party did but really, all the traveler wanted to do was rest and wait for that feeling.

the feeling of being monitored, not as a prisoner but as a fragile thing, to be cared for and used as a hollow doll—no need to lift a finger unless told to and loved for their hard work—the work they didn't even do. to be drowned in affection, suffocated with praises, and shot with care and pity. something that the wanderer despised so much but craved so badly.

not by anyone, no. no one, no mortal or god could make him feel this way, but something hidden, someone hidden behind a mask, the stars, and celestia itself was waiting for him, wanting him, caring for him like he was.

when he couldn't dodge an attack, he was healed instantly. when he had no energy, it was replenished right before his eyes. when he wanted to be stronger, he became just that. it was a complicated choice between his morals and integrity or his selfish desires and temptations.

bennett didn't heal as fast as he does when the greater person behind the screen is there. he blames it on his bad luck but both the traveler and wanderer know what's really wrong. his pale face slowly turns back to his tanner complexion as time moves forward and everyone decides to rest up a bit before the night ends.

it's been too long since the feeling went away.

"[wanderer]! is it okay if you're on watch duty?" that name. it felt like a childhood lullaby, something the elderly women of tatarasuna would sing him to sleep when he was awoken by nightmares. that name was his, something he held to with genuine pride, not like his other disdainful names that were given by cruel people or joking jesters.

"alright." there's no sigh, groan, or remark afterwards to everyone's surprise. it only happens once in a blue moon and you know damn well that they took it to heart.

layla and xiangling slept beside bennett while aether sat where he was with his eyes closed. there was a moment of silence where it was just beautiful.

the crystalflies didn’t hide from the characters, an anemo one landing on layla’s nose and on the top of the wanderer’s hat. the wind blew ever so softly and for a moment, the wanderer could feel that warmth again.

“what’s up with you?” the traveler asked. his eyes stayed close but they were attentive like always.

“nothing.”

“liar.”

wanderer frowns and slightly turns his head to see them. a smile grew on their face and they sat up, opening their eyes and looking directly at him. “you felt it, didn’t you?” the wanderer looks away.

“do you always ask dumb questions?”

the traveler beside him stifles a laugh. “they’re not dumb,” they pause. they have a visible frown painted on their face now. “you know, don’t you?”

“what? that there’s some being out there controlling us, that the world shifts to their liking, or that you can practically see their face written in those damned stars?”

they stay silent. how’d he even know? was it that meteorite from long ago? “yeah, i guess.”

the wanderer scoffs at his companion's vagueness. “i’m tired of being a vessel.” that was obviously a lie. he can’t remember the last time he actually enjoyed serving someone, let alone helping if it wasn’t for his own personal gain. it felt nice being used (which is something he never thought he’d ever think).

aether sighs, leaning on the totem. they closed their eyes, "wake me up later then."

the wanderer scoffed. "i'm not your alarm," he says but he doesn't complain any further, simply watching over his teammates, the ones you assigned him, with a faint frown on his face. just where were you?

you quickly sweep your phone off of your desk once you come back from an errand. it was only a few minutes but still! you need your game to thrive at work, remember?

it had been days to them. they were at windrise, where you left them, your whole team. thank the gods. everyone was awake and ready to be used as characters.

you continued what you were doing prior to your errand, collecting crystalflies and flowers for your characters' ascensions.

wanderer didn't tell anyone he felt your warmth.

he shouldn't, he couldn't—wouldn't. no one else had suffered like him, it was unfair for those who didn't deserve it to bask in the sweet feeling of your muse. everything bad happened to him; nothing ever bad happened to anyone else.

nahida was right; he needs help!

your help. you were the only one who could help him, help the poor wanderer who had cried and groveled at your feet centuries ago, begging for a god greater than the gods to take care of him and help him—you!

you put him through all this pain to help him in the end, right? to free him, make him truly himself and not part human or puppet but himself again.

his salvation wasn't leaving him; he wouldn't let it happen.

[kichiyosh1]

Deceitful youth

Modern au! scaramouche x f! reader

w//: yandere themes, suggestive, cross-dressing, obsession, photographs of you and your stolen things

summary: When you finally transfer to an all girls school, he was left with no choice but to take on a false female identity. Just so he wouldn't have to be separated from you, he'd do anything.

< previous | Masterlist | next >

He was obsessed with you from the start.

That day in grade school when you found him playing alone in a corner and you came to offer your hand out for him to take, inviting him to play with the other kids with a cheery smile on your face.

"It must be boring playing there by yourself, come on! i'll introduce you to the others!"

He only stared at your outstretched hand, before looking back up to meet your eyes, his eyebrows drooping before he averted his gaze a few seconds after.

"I don't like playing with the other kids, they think i'm weird..."

"What do they think they're talking about? there's nothing wrong with being weird! I mean, i think i'm weird, but there's nothing wrong with me, see?" you then proceeded to flail your arms out in the air, thinking that'd somehow convince him of your point.

'nope, there's definitely something wrong with you' he wanted to say, but he decided ignoring you would be the best course of action. Unfortunately, you weren't going to let him.

"Let me play with you then! whether if you're called weird or not, I dont mind, because you're definitely much cooler looking than the other kids!"

Cool? you think he was cool? better than the other kids even? he went silent after that, a little too flustered to say anything, but didn't make a move to pull his hand out of your grasp as you led him to who knows where.

if only those times with you could've lasted longer

As time went on you became more distant with the people around you, especially when it came to the opposite sex. He knew what your reasons were, you had told him before you decided to cut all ties.

"My mom... doesn't like the idea of me hanging around with other people, especially boys for some reason. Ah, it's not that I don't like hanging out with you! but, I'm really sorry."

Despite this, that didn't stop his on growing obsession for you. From grade school all the way to high school, he was content knowing you were still in the same school as him. Even if he had to keep a good distance away as to not scare you off. How his fingers nails would dig deep into the wood of the outdoor table when he sees you all buddy, buddy with your friend group, and to no ones surprise, only consisted of girls.

Your mother really did engrave it in your brain, the 'all men are evil' kind of saying, annoyingly enough. The way your face would deflate whenever a guy would walk by a little too close to you. Seeing you fear other guys brought a strange feeling of delight and relief to him. The chances of you getting a boyfriend was beyond negative and non-existent.

Maybe your mother wasn't all that crazy and weird after all. It's true, had it been anyone else, any other guy, they were undeserving of your time and attention. Who knows how they would have treated you, but not him, because only he could treat you right.

You had befriended him first, and in return he will continue to watch over you, as the loving boyfriend you didn't know you had and needed.

So why.

Why did you leave?

"It's been a week since [y/n] transferred to that all girls school."

A week? he's surprised he hasn't spiraled yet into madness.

"Tsk, she thinks she's better than us that she can just up and leave like that?"

'Annoying wench, of course she's better than you, in fact, you're not even close to her league'

"Man, good thing I'm a guy, If I wasn't I'd probably be there too."

'ugh, nobody's forcing you, who the hell cares what—'

he nearly choked

eyes bloodshot when he scanned the room, his bedroom. Why was he here? shouldn't he be in school? Wait, you didn't attend the same school as him anymore, so what even was the point of going?

He layed there with his arm over his forehead, his eyes devoid of any light, the same ones that were present whenever you'd step into a room.

If only he could follow you, he would, but how? If only the world would bend down to his wants, and rules be damned when it came to you. He zoned out the knocking at his door, faintly hearing the jingling of keys when his sister stepped into the room.

"Really? getting all worked up because of some girl that you can't even bother with your attendance anymore?" Raiden Mei, better than being scolded by his mother atleast.

"You're trespassing." said in such a robotic and raspy voice, his glare was received unfazed by mei. "Relax, I've got today off so I decided to be the oh so kind sister that I am and do everyone's laundry. Unless you want to continue living like the hermit that you are under all this pile of trash." He didn't bother replying, and neither did mei want to continue the conversation further, so silence enveloped the room as she rummaged through the pile of clothes that were on the floor.

but something caught her eye, at the foot of the heep was a pretty [f/c] t-shirt that had obviously no business being there. "This-","Don't touch that!" the grip he had on her was inhumane, he hovered above her with a look that clearly said 'don't'. Despite the burning sensation on her wrist, there wasn't a single sign of discomfort shown, instead it was disgust.

"So not only are you a creep," Her eyes wandered to the many pictures of you he had on his wall, she tried to the best of her ability to ignore whenever entering his room, "you're a thief too." She jerked her hand out of his grasp, leaving the t-shirt alone before quickly finishing up collecting his dirty clothes.

"Mind your own damn business","if it would make you feel any better, mom thought you were gonna be a girl, atleast she hoped you would be."

she rested her hand on the doorknob, pausing for a moment, causing scaramouche to raise a brow. "and that's going to help me feel better, how?"

"maybe if she continued believing you were a girl, maybe you would have been, if that came to be then i guess you would have been able to follow her." His breath hitched, the cogs in his head finally starting to turn.

The door to his room was already closed when mei let out a sigh, 'Could have been blessed with a sister, but I've been cursed to have this gremlin for a brother' she'd be lying if she said she wasn't concerned, whether if it was for you or for him, that was none of her buisness.

"poor girl".

_

Back in his room, he was already plotting what he'd do next. The answer was so obvious, so easy for him to achieve, that he's wondering why he hasn't thought of it sooner.

"Being a girl, huh," it wasn't impossible for him to do, he already has feminine features, as he wasn't blessed with a muscular body. He knows how to do make-up, and it would probably be best if he wore a wig to add on to his girly appearance. He'd need to change his wardrobe too, he'll have to do a little bit of research on what girls usually wear depending on what occasion. He's not worried about changing his identity, he's had experience before when making fake accounts and id's. The transfer won't be a problem, he can use his mother's connections to get him in, quite the convenience. You probably already forgot about him, as much as it hurts to say, but it's for the best so you won't be able to recognise him.

He's already getting lightheaded at the idea, giggling to himself imagining all the things he could get away with. Visiting your room wouldn't be weird, sleepovers? he gets to sleep next to you? he's shaking at the idea. Maybe even borrow each other's things, make-up, clothes, food? If you saw him as a girl then you wouldn't have to be afraid of him. It wouldn't be weird if he got all touchy with you, I mean your friends do it all the time, right?

something was starting to rise between his legs, he cringed at the motion. He better keep that in check if he doesn't want his secret to be revealed once he gets close to you.

He's sighing dreamily, his hand going over the framed photo he has of you on his desk. It was the one his mother took when the both of you were still in grade school.

"My [y/n], my darling [y/n]." His gaze softened at the idea of finally being close to you, once again.

"Let's start over."

pt.2?

[boarloved-art]

svsss animatic save me (the next set of panels i gotta do involve FAR too much fancy posing im SICK TO DEATH!!!)

[kazumist]

congrats on 100! 🎉 could i get earl grey tea with tighnari if you write for him? if not, scaramuche/wanderer? keep up the good work :)

prompt: earl grey tea; how did they court their s/o?

100 milestone event: closed!

tighnari — !

one of the cute little gestures that tighnari did when he courted you was by giving you flowers everyday with a small note cheering you on or wishing you good luck for the day. but not only that, he sends you notes in general. they consisted of random questions like a simple “how was your day?” or just tighnari asking you to meet him at this specified time and place so you could spend time together.

scaramouche — !

he takes you on the stupidest dates. most of your “restaurant dates” take place in fast food places with him just paying (as much  as you insist on paying at least once, he doesn’t allow it). although his way of courting is sometimes… questionable, in his books, quality time and respect is what matters. scaramouche is actually a pretty nice guy! it’s just his sharp tongue and intimidating image is what makes him look scary to interact with.

[flanchoir]

I like him very much, alt!scaramouche (slight hint of bimbo!y/n)

Not the best of my art but i like the lineart more here :) i also don't know whether to make scara emo or grudge typa person so i go with alt! since yeah..

[paimonial-rage]

My favorite works in no particular order:

Tipsy Tales (Anemo Boys)

Symbiosis (Ayato)

What Destiny Has Brought (Fischl)

Hello How Are You (Gorou)

Follow the Wind II (Kazuha)

Of the Same Coin (Mika)

Songs of the Wind (Venti)

Nothing Lasts Forever (Yae Miko)

Sharing a Drink They Call Loneliness (Zhongli)

Of Hopes and Prayers (Zhongli)

[pttucker]

Okay, so, I've been thinking about some of my more recent posts and have started to combine them with some of my older posts and think I've come up with another theory that I want to throw out into the wild while we've still got like 40% of the novel left to go.

Well, actually it's not really a new theory for me per se, but I think I've finally cemented it whereas in the past I've had vague suspicions. Which has resulted in another giant post.

tl;dr: there are three stories in the novel, with the novel itself being Dokja's story and I think by the end Dokja will realize that he's inside ORV itself in a sort of Neverending Story kind of way, the Fourth Wall is between him and our world (and maybe also him and TWSA), and that the true Omniscient Reader's Viewpoint belongs to us.

So, anyway, I recently made a post about Han Sooyoung being the author of TWSA and overall I think this current arc we're going through right now is another major allegory / foreshadow for how the characters relate to TWSA, just like the Peace Land arc. But thinking on it some more, I think this arc (and possibly also Peace Land) is also showing how they relate to ORV itself.

Like, I actually even specifically said that certain passages relate to the overall plot of ORV such as this one—

Regrettably, there was no guarantee of the work ending up as a success even if the author did an excellent job. – Time to start our attack, Yoo Joonghyuk. Because the ones to complete the story were the 'Characters', not the author, that's why.

—and I think by taking that just a tiny step further, in combination with other clues, ORV itself will end up being almost a Neverending Story type of deal. Not necessarily with Dokja trying to talk to us like Sebastian and the Childlike Empress, but literally just realizing that he's a character in a novel.

Which is something Dokja has technically already realized, and maybe even unconsciously accepted, not only because of the above passage where he lowkey calls himself a character but also because he's seen that he's listed as a character when he messed around with the Fourth Wall (more on that later) and we have no idea if he recently became one or if he's always been a character and didn't realize it.

Unrestrained questions flooded my head. Why did I get this story here? What was the relationship between that story and being called a character? Was I now a character or was I still a reader? I… Was I still able to change the future?

However, I think the big reveal for Dokja is going to be not that he's a character but that the novel is not TWSA but instead ORV.

In fact, I know I've been using "TWSA" as kind of a shorthand for the world that Dokja is now in, with the scenarios and Joonghyuk and such, as compared to the "real world" he was in before as a company worker, but technically speaking TWSA is not Dokja's story. He is not inside TWSA. TWSA still exists as a completely separate text that he has access to and every time he looks at the revisions of TWSA they are still Joonghyuk's story. They go all the way up to the 1863rd round, and while Dokja is in the TWSA revisions, that's because Dokja is a part of Joonghyuk's story in the third round.

And speaking of the revisions, I kind of breezed past this in the tags of another post but Dokja got the Final Revision immediately after thinking to himself that he wants "an author" to tell him that he did good, that it's all going to work out in the end, that he's made the right choices. At the time I thought that perhaps Sooyoung could be the author of the revisions but now I don't think so anymore.

Going back through the text, the First Revision appeared when Dokja was dying in the Industrial Complex and he wanted to read TWSA to try to figure out if there was any sort of hope to fix things without having to ruin his story by killing innocent people. (And honestly he wasn't in any shape to kill people even if he wanted to at that point.) The Second Revision came after he abandoned Breaking the Sky Sword Saint to fight the outer god alone and felt like crap because of it (to be fair she shoved him through the portal while he was still trying to convince her to come) and he and Joonghyuk had a mini-conversation about what to do after and all Dokja could think of is to just keep struggling as best they can.

Basically what I'm trying to say is that all of the revisions have come when Dokja is at an extremely low point, floundering, trying to have someone tell him what to do, tell him that he's made the right choices, etc. Except not once has he actually said anything to anyone in the story around him. He didn't actually end up asking Sooyoung if he did the right thing; he wanted her to tell him it's going to be okay but he only thought it. Just like every other time the revisions have appeared. Almost like they came from someone else who can see what he's going through right then and knows he needs a little help...

Also, back when Sooyoung's version of the story first appeared, I was a little confused by the (First) after it, thinking that maybe Joonghyuk only had the first part of the story, but then later we see that Joonghyuk has 『Han Sooyoung – Records of the 1863rd turn (Last)』.

So now I don't think Sooyoung is writing the TWSA revisions, even if I do think she wrote the original TWSA, and I think that her story is also getting revised as she changes it because she is also a character in which "the ones to complete the story were the 'Characters', not the author" applies.

And speaking of the stories, I kind of went off on a sort of three, three, three tangent in the Sooyoung post, but I realize now that that can be taken even further. There's three unknown beings still left in ORV (Secretive Plotter, Oldest Dream, TWSA's Author), there's three protagonists in both TWSA and ORV, there's three people involved in a novel (Reader, Writer, Character), and there's three ways to the survive the apocalypse. Which, TWSA lists those ways as Regressor, Returnee, and Reincarnator.

But, technically, aren't we also seeing three ways to survive the apocalypse right now? Joonghyuk's way in TWSA, Han Sooyoung's way in her diary, and Dokja's way in ORV itself. Not to mention, now that I think about it, we have Regressor Joonghyuk, Returnee Dokja, and now Reincarnator Sooyoung...

Three separate stories, all sort of TWSA but not technically, more like they're all different versions of the same story. And the dokkaebi's have recently started talking about "which story will you choose" (talking to Bihyung btw, who's been helping Dokja all this time...) and everyone else in ORV keeps going on about a Single Story and how they're all vying for their true story and ending. And how maybe the true story/ending has finally come. Because this particular timeline is going through Dokja's story...which is ORV.

And too when I had the post about the "failed stories" I wondered if maybe it was foreshadowing for ORV ending in tragedy (and maybe that's still true) but also now that I think about the "failed stories" and how both Sooyoung's story and Joonghyuk's story could be considered the "failed stories" in a loose way. Granted, we don't currently know how those stories actually ended since ORV started off with Dokja waiting for the epilogue and the 1863rd ending was disrupted by Dokja, though Dokja has been pretty heavily implying that at least TWSA ended in tragedy up to the epilogue. And with the Single Story it's possible that all three of them will end up combined in the end of ORV itself.

Especially since we don't know what happened to 1864th Joonghyuk. It's possible we may see him again at the end of ORV. Also, I just realized that Joonghyuk stopped being a character when he moved past what was written in his personal story but, atm at least, he's also past ORV's story since we haven't seen him since and Dokja has no way of knowing what's going on with him.

On the topic of endings and epilogues, Dokja has been less and less willing to read TWSA as he starts living his own story and has finally outright said that he doesn't think his epilogue will be in the file. And, yeah, if Dokja's story is ORV then his epilogue would be ORV's epilogue. And ORV does have one. Even though I don't read the chapter titles ahead of time due to spoilers, I did notice when I looked to see how many total chapters ORV has that the last one had the word "epilogue" in the title.

And that's not even getting into Dokja casually stating that the novel is a lie. Which is very interesting.

And of course, there's the infamous moment where (while Dokja is sleeping I might add) the Fourth Wall starts telling the 1863rd Joonghyuk Dokya's story and it literally starts reciting the opening passages of ORV itself. And I'm pretty sure that when Sangah shoved him into it, he once again saw Dokja's story (ORV) just due to the fact that he zeroed in on not just Secretive Plotter, who doesn't appear in TWSA, but specifically all the things Secretive Plotter did in regards to and with Dokja.

In fact, as Dokja messes around with his Fourth Wall more and more, it becomes more and more sentient and present in Dokja's story (ORV) and he starts seeing things that perhaps he, as a character of ORV, was never meant to see, such as the fact that he's a character or that the Fourth Wall goes from simply blocking mental attacks to narrating Dokja's actions, reflecting his thoughts, etc. Just like ORV does for us readers.

I've actually briefly contemplated in the past that perhaps the Fourth Wall isn't necessarily protecting Dokja from the elements of TWSA, but in fact protecting him from the outside world (relevant part quoted below)—

Oh man, what if that's what it means by Fourth Wall? Instead of Dokja being a real person and the Fourth Wall existing because he knows he's not part of the novel, what if he's a character and the Fourth Wall is actually the barrier between him and the real world where the author lives? In which case, the being behind the Fourth Wall could be the author (or the reader!) of Dokja's story.

—and I then later began to wonder if it might be our world and not just some random third world inside the story of ORV, and I really do think that's the case now. Or it could be both! If I'm reading a comic about Batman who's reading a comic about Spider-Man, both I and Batman have a Fourth Wall between us and the fictional world we're reading about, ergo Batman has a Fourth Wall working both ways. (Ignore past Marvel/DC Comics team ups, pretty sure those aren't considered canon lol.)

And this is not only because of the fact that the Fourth Wall is acting more and more like a narrator (or like the third-person text of ORV) but that Dokja reacts so poorly to it going down. Sure, the first time the Fourth Wall went down a million constellations tried to attack him so that caused him issues, but later when he took down a little bit of it for the giants he was in a place with only his most trusted constellations who didn't seem to make any attempt to attack him and he only opened it up a teeny tiny amount and yet he still was physically wrecked. I don't think that he would be that affected by now by the elements of TWSA, especially since he literally learned he was a character and was freaked out for a moment but didn't have this big world-ending crisis...like he might if he attempted to connect to our world. Also, Dokja still hasn't gone back to the idea of using ORV on himself...

And on that topic, I know that I've kind of joked before that Dokja is the most oblivious person ever for someone who also happens to be able to read various characters' minds and see their actions, but honestly speaking there are tons of parts of ORV that are from other POVs that Dokja has never and likely will never see. I actually started tracking them about a hundred chapters back and we get a different POV, even if it's just a few paragraphs, almost every third or fourth chapter. And they're all from the third-person POV, just like how the Fourth Wall speaks.

Meaning that the true omniscient reader's viewpoint is ours.

PS: a very weak "clue" that I'm not really "officially" including is also the fact that The World After The Fall is mentioned as a book that Dokja has read and that's a real webnovel written by the same authors as ORV. I'm not really counting that since I do understand the concept of a cheeky little cameo but it could still be fun to at least acknowledge the possibility that it's something that secretly indicates that Dokja is maybe a little more connected with our world than any of the others.

PPS: I think if I find time this weekend I'm gonna go back through at tag everything or make a list of all my posts or something. Trying to find links for this majorly sucked and I just kind of gave up at points lmfao.

[eupheme]

— tooth and nail

alpha!logan x mutant!f!reader

rated e - 4k

tags: dub-con (logan goes into a rut), a/b/o-lite elements (logan-only - ruts/knots/mates), breeding kink, mutual pining, two jealous dummies, size kink, fighting as foreplay, return of The Claws (claw-play?), outercourse, biting, marking, come play, rough PiV sex 

a/n: pure pwp. reader has druidic-based mutant powers (wild shape, strong connection to nature/animals, influence over vines/foliage) and is from Earth-10005.

Logan knows this feeling. He thought he’d left this part of himself behind. Left on his Earth, carved out and buried with the rest. 

Should have told you no. Should have locked himself away like he always did. Instead, he’s stuck, unable to keep his mind from wandering while his sparring partner - sweat-dewed and squirming - is pinned beneath him. 

(Or - Logan’s rut begins at a most inopportune time)

Something wasn’t right.

It’s been settling under his skin for days now.  Tiny hooked claws, digging into flesh. A syrupy urge low in his guts, his mind not quite his own.

He thought he’d left this part of himself behind. Left on his Earth, carved out and buried with the rest. 

The world he lives in now is different. There’s humans, mutants, aliens. But none like him, answering to something innate that defined him in a way that didn’t matter anymore.

It’s been a while. Almost forgot how it felt, after years of tamping down this part of him. Should have recognized sooner what it was. This rippling, simmering irritation just beneath his skin, so much stronger than usual. 

Should have locked himself away, when he realized his rut was returning.

In his years in his own Earth, the urge had lessened. Dulled by alcohol and grief. Managed by himself, in the few months this part of his nature did visit him.

But he hadn’t been able to tell you no. Hadn’t been able to resist, not when you smiled so prettily at him, practically begging him. 

And the thought of you leaving him behind at the X-Mansion, while you went off without him - to spar with Hank, instead - made him want to rip McCoy’s arms off. 

Desire swirls around him now, as he trades blows with you. Your arms snaking around his shoulders as you shoulder a well-placed hit, bringing you both down the floor.

Logan feels like a pup again, watching your breathless laugh. The clench of your thighs around his waist. The heady throb low in his guts, the pressure of his cock as it strains against his suit. 

His hips lift, separating him from you. Trying to form an excuse, while his brain is rocketing into overdrive.

Fighting back the urge to close that gap again. To peel down those tight leggings that drive him mad, bury his mouth against your pussy and make you scream. Fuck you full of him, until he’s dripping out of you for days. 

The though makes him growl, as he tries to concentrate.

Tough to fake an illness, or injury. You’d see right through him.

Or even worse, worry.

So all he had to do was finish out this session. 

Shouldn’t be too hard. 

If you can just avoid touching him… he might just make it through. 

You know you shouldn’t let yourself get distracted like this while sparring with Logan, but you can’t seem to help it.

Not when you’ve been nursing this thing inside you for months now. Something planted from another earth, settling low in your chest. Infesting like the vines that sprout from you, taking over until you’re fully ensnared.

You’ve tried to ignore it. Didn’t want to ruin a good thing between you. 

Out of everyone in the X-Mansion, you got along with Logan the best. Used to a solitary lifestyle after being raised among the druids, before you knew the truth to what you were, the mutant lineage that flowed through you.

It had paired well with his temperament. His anger and grouchy quips slipped from you like raindrops on a leaf. Something about spending time with you softening him at the edges - just a little bit.

He was still the hard man he used to be. Grizzled, with that scowl of his and the flecks of grey at his temples.

And despite your efforts - forgetting and moving on hadn’t been successful. Not at all. 

Because it’s impossible to ignore when he’s close, like this. Pressing your back to the mat, your wrist slammed against the padded floor. A knife skittering away, because even after all this time - even with his insisting - you were still reluctant to use it.

It sends your pulse racing. He’s so fucking strong - and you think that maybe, even if you had been an equal pair, that you’d still throw these matches. 

Let him win, if it gets him like this. Sweaty and pressed up against you as you struggle beneath him. A thigh jammed between yours to prevent you from slamming your heel into his calf.

You’ll think about this later. 

You always do after your sparring sessions. You hand slipping between your thighs in the shower after. Bitten-back moans as you play out more in your mind - the plunge of your fingers inside your aching cunt until you’re shuddering with the pulsing pleasure, slumping back against the cold tile. 

The fantasies always comes back to him. 

You think that maybe Logan wants it too. Have felt his gaze on you when he thinks no one is looking, but your senses have always been keen. Animal attraction, perhaps. Pheromones. Something about his smell, his touch, beckons you - though you don’t understand what it means. 

And it’s only now that you realize he’s gone still above you. Eyes blown wide, a sharp breath of air inhaled through clenched teeth. A low growl, caught in his throat. 

Holding himself back. You can see it - the way his muscles string tight. How his eyes dip, flicking over your face. Down to the part of your lips. The sweat that dews your chest. 

Close enough that you can inhale him - the smell of leather and cigar smoke blending with more - something inside you giving them a name. 

Want. Need. 

It gives you courage. 

You bridge the gap, for a just a moment. A shallow lift of your hips. Encouraging, the movement pushing your tits against his heaving chest. 

“Bad fucking idea, sweetheart.” He growls.

It’s rough, low. Ground-out as if to himself, a wounded sound slipping from his throat. 

His response has a mark forming between your eyebrows. A soft murmuring of his name.

Logan’s face dips, eyes closing as he inhales. Then, without warning, his knuckles cradle against your throat. 

Wrist flexing as two of his claws spear forward on either side of your neck. Punching through the training mats and sinking deep into the concrete beneath.

Pinning you completely under him, your hips dropping as your free hand wraps around his forearm. A tug of fear ripples through you, but he doesn’t budge.

“Logan,” You repeat, gasping, “What are you doing? What’s wrong?

This isn’t like the times you’ve sparred before. He’s never drawn his claws. You don’t heal like he does - you both know it. Never using more than a loose fist, an open palm in your sessions. 

He’s breathing heavy. Holding himself over you, his other hand still wrapped firmly around your wrist. 

“I’m gonna let you go.” It comes out ragged, through clenched teeth.

“And then I need you to leave, and lock me in after.” Only now does he look at you - his dark eyes burning, “You understand?”

His voice is so rough that it makes your skin prickle. Heat licking down your spine, stoking the embers that have settled low in your belly. 

“I don’t.” It comes out hushed.

How can you? It’s like a flip has been switched, in those few moments. Did you truly misread everything? 

His eyes haven’t left your face. There a peek of his tongue against his lips, the words coming slowly, “Don’t wanna do something you’re gonna regret.”

And for a moment, time stands still. An ache in your chest that’s so different than the one between your thighs. Finger unfurling, reaching.

Slipping up his arm, touching his cheek. He flinches, eyes fluttering shut as he holds his breath. 

“What could I regret with you?”

If it were anyone else, the question would be stupid. You should be running from the man that has you pinned to the ground, claws drawn. Another twitch and you could be dead - the middle unsheathing to pierce clean through your soft throat.

“Whatever it is, let me help you.” Your voice is gentle - coaxing -  and for a second, he leans into the touch. Palm pressing against heated skin, and you gasp, “You’re burning up, Logan.”

“You can’t help me with this.” He rasps with his eyes closed, voice strained. 

Your head shakes, “Let me try.”

A long pause lingers. The room filled with the uneven intake of breath. Logan’s words coming slowly, as his eyes open - dropping down to your throat. And then away, like he can’t bear to even look at you, “Does the word rut mean anything to you?”

It feels like something stirs again inside you. The flutter of wings, not unlike the feeling when you tap into your power. Like threads slipping your fingertips, connecting you down to the earth below. 

“Animals have ruts. Deer, elk, creatures like that.” A beat, as you begin to understand. Heat flaring in your cheeks at the implication, “But, not… not humans.”

He grunts, shifting.

It takes everything not to let your chin tip down, to look. 

“They do where I come from.” 

Pieces start to fall in place. His increased irritability around you lately. Territorial. Aggressive. 

Blending in to what you know, in your connection to nature. Those animalistic instincts that linger in your blood long after you’ve shed your beast form. 

Desire. Mating. An urge to breed. 

Oh, fuck. 

You squirm and he makes a warning sound without thinking - a rough rumble from his chest. His weight shifting on top of you, still hovering.

“How do you handle it?” 

His eyes flicker up to yours, then away again. Jaw working, a breath before he answers, “Take care of it myself. Or, I’d find someone to work through it with me.”

Even as you’re scrambling to make sense of it, you understand his insinuation. It stuns you into silence. You cannot allow that. The thought sends your heart crashing into your guts. 

Your chin tips up, defiantly.

“Let me help you.” 

Those dark eyes narrow as they snap to your face. Your words softening, as your thumb sweeps across his skin, the scruff of his cheek.

“I want to help you.”

Logan laughs, the sound ragged. Showing the points of his canines with the shake of his head. 

“You don’t know what you’re asking.” His voice is smoky-low. Rough as it scrapes across your skin, leaving goosebumps, “You couldn’t take me.”

Your heart feels like it’s pounding in your throat. Heat licking down your spine, and surely he can feel it - the flutter beneath the press of his knuckles. 

“I can.” It comes out breathy. Insisting. 

His tongue brushes over his lips as they part. A tilt of his head as he lowers himself. His knee pressing against the meat of your thigh, nudging. Opening your legs up further. Spreading them wider. 

“I will ruin you.” 

It’s growled in your ear. Each word coming slowly, as he lets the hard curve of his cock grind against your core. His meaning unmistakable, his voice pitching down with a ragged groan. 

“I want you to ruin you. You understand?”

And, you do. It floods through you, sending your nerve endings alight. Imagining how he would handle you, take you. The space between your thighs throbs. 

His admission - the rasp of his words and the heavy nudge of him against you makes you do something very selfish. 

And very stupid. 

You’re just able to reach your thigh holster now, with this new angle. The quick fumble of your fingers to loosen the small dagger.

The metal side of his claw pressing into your skin as your head turns. Before he can move, a flick of your wrist sends it through the air.

Your aim is slightly off, but it does the job. Seating itself in the control box by the door, a sizzle as the wires are cut.

A metallic snick as the doors lock. The lights click off, plunging the room into darkness. The ground bathed only with the stripes of sun that stretch across the floor from the row of window along the wall.

Logan lets go of your wrist, but leaves you pinned. His fist curling in the strap of your tank, knuckles pressing against your throat as he yanks you forward.

“Why the fuck would you do that?” Logan snarls, “You want me to use you?”

His words make you whimper. A soft little whine that has his hips dropping further. An unconscious rut against your core, leg muscles flexing as you clench around nothing. 

You meet his second thrust, your body curving against his. Head tipping back as the seam of your leggings nudge against your clit.

“Fuck.” It almost sounds awed now, his words soft and slow, “You do, don’t you?”

Letting his full weight drop, as your hands grip onto his shoulders for purchase. You had thought you were pinned before, but he had still been using his knees, his elbows. Hovering, in an attempt to keep control.

Now, you can feel all of him, as his body maps against yours. Pulling a rough groan as his hips flex, grinding himself slowly against your core. 

“Logan, please.”

He growls. Fingers unfurling from your shirt. Ghosting down your side to fit against the curve of your hip. Biting into flesh with a bruising force, as his face buried in the crook of your neck. A hot exhale against your skin, as he pants - finding a rocking rhythm, as his body curls around yours. 

You can feel the way his muscles tense with each needy snap of his hips. The way each breath pitches into a near-silent whine, as he seeks friction. 

It’s not enough, as much as he wishes it was.

“I need-” Logan rasps, “Tell me to stop and I will.”

The hand on your hip snakes between you. Roughly tugging on the belt of his suit, until the clasp opens. All while murmuring assurances, half to himself.

“I’ll let you go. Work through it myself-”

That need he speaks of rolls off him in waves. Facial hair scraping against your cheek. The brush of his lips against your throat, just above the cool press of his claws.

“Don’t stop.” It’s easy to answer. Easy to lean into what he offers you, all those sweet promises wrapped in steel. 

The groan he makes is filthy, “Give me your hand.”

Your fingers unlatch from the vice-like hold on his suit. A broad hand wrapping around your wrist, as he tugs you where he needs you. The tips brushing heated skin, making you gasp. 

“Make a fist,” He rasps, “Fuck, that’s it.”

Lining himself up, pushing his bared cock into the circled grip of your fingers. Using you like a cheap imitation of what he craves, as his desire leaks from him. Slicking up your fingers, with each roll of his hips. 

He’s heavy in your hand. You can feel how your fingers stretch - flexing, opening, with each forward thrust. Barely able to circle around, fingers splitting when you reach his base. 

You can’t help but move with him. Hips rocking up, to match his messy rhythm. The knuckle of your thumb pressing against your seam, nudging at where you ache for him.

“I can smell you, sweetheart,” Logan moans, his nose dragging along the curve of your jaw. Lips parting so he can test his teeth against a spot under your ear, the pressure making you shiver, “Your pussy’s leaking, thinking about me.”

Your eyes flutter shut, as you whine. Squeezing his cock a little more tightly, wishing it was filling you instead just your fingers. 

“I’m right, aren’t I?” He husks, “You think you can take it?”

You want anything he’ll give you. And anything is better than the way he’s teasing you. Palm slick with his desire, your own soaking through the soft fabric of your leggings.

“I want it. Want your cock,” You breathe, “Want to fuck me, please-”

There’s a final jerk of his hips against you, his voice gruff as his thighs shift.

“Stay still then, sweetheart.”

There’s the sharp rasp of adamantium against stone as they withdraw from the floor. His knuckles easing carefully from your throat as he leans back. Eyes dropping down, considering.

Barely a heartbeat before there’s the kiss of metal against skin, as the edge of a claw hooks under your shirt. Your breath held as it slips up, between your breasts. 

A tug, and the fabric is shredding. Fibers splitting until the drag of the sharp tips, from belly to throat. Baring you, the air in the open room chilling your heated skin as you gasp.

Nipples already pebbled as his mouth descends. A needy moan loosening when he kisses at the curve of your tits, his tongue flattening across a tight peak. 

Your arms wrap around him, their duty forgotten. Distracting you as his claws shift down. Your breath catches, but then there’s the sound of them sheathing - slipping back under his skin. 

His hands finding the slice he made in the waistband, making short work of the rest himself. Ripping your leggings open - dragging your thighs over his as he leans back on his knees. 

And looking down, it’s only now that you can fully see him. The familiar, worn yellow suit that shows off how broad he is. Zipper yanked down at the crotch, his cock pulled through with his impatience.

Eyes widening, when you realize there’s more to him than you though. Hanging heavy between his thighs, pretty and flushed. A thickened bulge sitting where your fingers had split - what you had mistaken for his base. 

“Need to be inside you, sweetheart,” Logan’s hand already wrapping around his shaft, dragging the tip across your cunt, “Don’t make me waste a drop, alright?”

Fingers tugging the gusset of your panties to the side. Letting the tip slap against your clit. It glides against you, slipping against your combined arousal. Seeing how you flutter as you clench, your own need spiking.

“Logan,” You beg, “Stop teasing, please-”

He makes a rough sound. Almost a laugh, if it didn’t sound so pained. 

“Just listen to you. Begging like you’re in heat,” He grunts, “Don’t worry, I’ll give you what you need.”

The tip dips down, nudging at your entrance. Lining himself up, before his hips drive him forward. The sudden pressure chokes you - a bitten-back cry as your muscles string tight, thighs clamping down around his waist.

“Fuck, I’ve dreamed about this.” He growls. Spearing into you an inch at time with a long, fluid motion. Fingers biting into your thigh, holding you open as your own scrabble against the mat - searching for something to hold onto.

“Tugging down those leggings. Fucking you into the floor.”

You can barely contain the whine. Brow furrowed, as he splits you open. Your pussy making room for him until the swollen ring at his base cradles your entrance. 

Only able to inhale a short breath before he’s moving. Hands catching your legs, slipping to the joints of your knees where they press into his ribs.

Pushing your thighs back towards your chest, opening you up further, as his cock drags along your walls. He feels deeper, bigger - groaning at the way you clench so tightly around him.

Better than any of those daydreams, as he leans into you. Chasing that animalistic urge inside to bury himself fully in you, ensuring that you’ll take every drop.

Your fingers bite into his wrists. The breath pushed from you with each thrust, feeling like he’s deep in your belly, as that swell stretches at your opening.

“Thought about it too,” You admit with a gasp, as that heat inside you burns, “Wanted you, like this.”

“Yeah? I bet you did.” He grunts, as his thighs snap against your ass. Leaning over you now, eyes fixed on yours. Close enough that you can see the glaze to them, lost in his need for release. 

Before his eyes drag down. Seeing where you’re stretched around him. Another shallow nudge, urging himself deeper. His thumb pressing at your entrance, before slipping back to hook around the swell.

“Good girl like you’d take my knot too, wouldn’t you?”

His knot. Your head shakes. He barely fits at is. You can feel every ridge as he ruts into you, every thick vein, “I don’t think- Logan, that won’t fit-”

The thumb shifts up. Pleasure burning through as he rolls the pad across you clit. His brow pulled in concentration, but there’s a flesh of white teeth.

“Sure it will, baby.” It’s slick, how he touches you. His cock grinding again and again against a spot that steals your breath, “You were made to take it. We’ll make it fit.”

It makes you moan. Your fingers sliding into his hair tugging at him. He comes willingly, a soft sound as his mouth dips to press against yours. Turning hungry as your lips part. Rubbing at you as his tongue strokes against yours, deepening the kiss. 

The pleasure licks in your veins, a molten feeling building in your core. 

A rough murmur against your lips, “Tell me you want it. I’ll make you feel good, sweetheart.”

You parrot it back to him without thinking, hips chasing the press of his thumb. 

“I want it,” You keen, “Your k-knot.”

Willing to do just about anything he asks if he keeps touching you like this. If he keeps rutting against the spot that makes your arousal leak around his cock, each drive of his hips loud and messy in the quiet room. 

He groans, the hand at your thigh pinching, sure to leave bruises tomorrow. The fingers at your clit slipping up to splay across your abdomen, his palm hot again your skin. 

“Yeah?” Logan husks - pressing down, almost as if he can feel himself buried inside you, “Fuck, you’d look so good filled with my pups.”

His rhythm going sloppy, as a hand slips up to palm at your breasts, “These pretty tits nice and round. Wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off you, baby.”

Some of his words are new to you, but your body still reacts to his tone. The need, the longing. An intrinsic understanding of what he wants, even if it’s impossible with your implant. It still doesn’t stop your hand from slipping down to replace his.

Of pretending, with him. 

The circles practiced, leaving him to concentrate on his own end. Soft panting cries pulling from you as the pounding of his hips drags you closer. 

He’s close, as well. Those sharp thrusts growing shallow, messy. Letting go of your thighs, letting them wrap around his waist as he drives you into the padded mats. Burying his face in the crook of your neck, lips pressing against your jaw. Tongue dipping out to drag against a spot on your neck that makes you go slack in his arms. 

“Should mate you,” He rasps. Teeth pinching down, where his tongue just was, “Bite you right here. Make you mine.”

The words tip you over the edge. A ragged gasp as your pussy clamps down around him, blood thundering in your ears. Nails catching on the panels of his suit as you cling to him, moans ripped from your throat as you pulse around him in time with your thudding heartbeat.

There’s no sharp bite of teeth. Just a muffled groan against your skin as he grasps at your hips. The sharp feeling of pressure increasing, as something thick works its way inside you. You keen as it stretches you, swelling so he can’t withdraw. 

Twin ragged moans, as you’re joined together. 

He comes with you squirming on his knot, his lips pressed against your throat. Sweet nothings murmured - “squeezing me so fucking tight, baby”, “gonna need you to take every drop, atta girl” - his cock throbbing as he spills inside you, pumping you full.

Still grinding into you. It draws your own orgasm out, with the way he’s rubbing against your walls, nothing left untouched. Overstimulation flickering at the corner of your mind, but you’re locked in place as he breeds you. 

Understanding what he meant by using you - you feel it now. Fucked out and boneless and it sends another gush of sticky need between your thighs. 

The sharp, panting breath starts to ebb. The ghost of his teeth becomes the nuzzle of his face, that strung-tight pull of his muscles turning liquid as he relaxes into your embrace. 

“Why were you so worried?”

It comes out hushed, in the now-silent room. You’re sore - will be, tomorrow. Pleasure-drunk certainly, but not quite as ruined as he promised. 

Almost to your disappointment. 

“That wasn’t too much.”

Logan laughs, the sound dripping with condescension. A flex of his hips, still knotted inside you. Cum leaking from your swollen pussy, smearing against your inner thighs.

“Oh, sweetheart.” He coos, “Ruts can last for days.”

His fingers drop, dragging through his spend. Finding your clit again, rubbing slick circles against the tight little bud. 

Intent on doing this one himself. 

“We’re only just getting started.”

[moodboard] // I had two ideas for his claws after the movie - this was the second one! This is my first time writing something like this, so keeping it a little light with the dynamics 💖 thanks for reading!

and speaking of - I have to link this amazing alpha!logan thot by the incredible @avocado-writing! please check it out! 💕

[sttoru]

𖠵 I’M YOURS.

𝝑𝑒 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. you visit your husband during his work hours to hand him his lunch which he forgot at home. his subordinates are surprised to see their superior act so gentle with you—a total opposite to how he usually is when finding and punishing outlaws.

tags. wild west sheriff!kento nanami x wife!female reader. fluff, smut. set in the wild west (1860’s - 1890’s). blǒwjob. size difference (reader short), p in v -> unprotected, breeding themes, creampié, semi-public, hair pulling. traditional views of marriage. nicknames: darling, sugar, sweetheart. wc: 6.4k

the southern parts of the county are sweltering under an unrelenting sun, and most of the townsfolk have retreated indoors to escape the heat. kento nanami - the town’s sheriff - is taking a quick break, having just returned from breaking up a violent brawl at the local saloon. damn drunkards, he thinks as he shakes his head. they have been causing havoc all afternoon, threatening to turn the place into a shooting gallery. he had to put them in their place.

kento strolls to a nearby window, silently critiquing the poor job done on the grimy glass. his eyes scan the wagons that roll in and out of town to keep watch for anything out of the ordinary. but before long, his thoughts wander, and he found himself thinking of you. his dearest. his beloved. his world— his wife.

the blonde man wonders what you’re doing right now. are you preparing supper, or perhaps knitting him another one of those scarves in preperation for the colder weather?

one of his hands slips into the pockets of his slacks, fingers brushing against the handkerchief you gifted him. he smiles as he traces the embroidered flowers. their colors are still vibrant despite the constant wear. it has become his lucky charm over the years.

kento sighs as he catches a glimpse of a couple in the distance. they share a kiss, the woman waving her partner off with a handkerchief of her own as her husband leaves on his horse. the sight has his jaw clenching as guilt creeps in. he had left home in such a hurry this morning, that he hasn't kissed you goodbye properly. he hopes that you didn’t take it personally.

it is a small thing, but he makes a mental note to apologise for that later.

kento turns around from the window he’s been staring out at for the past couple minutes as one of the deputies hustles a trussed up outlaw into the office. the other male slams the wooden door shut behind them which rattles the place. the outlaw is a scruffy looking fellow and his wild eyes dart nervously between kento and the shotgun-toting deputy.

the blond sheriff pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. just when he thought he could have a peaceful break... duty calls.

“got ourselves a lil’ troublemaker here, sheriff,” jake says and gives the outlaw a rough shove forward. the man stumbles, nearly falling to his knees before catching himself.

kento’s jaw clenches as he looks the outlaw up and down, his hazel eyes hardening. he aims to keep the peace in this small town, and that means dealing with the dregs of society from time to time. anything to keep the folk safe. especially if it meant protecting his dear wife.

“ye damn pieces of shit,” the outlaw spits, glaring defiantly at the two authoritive figures standing in front of him, “i ain't done nothin’ wrong, ya hear?”

there it is; the cliché line nearly every sentenced outlaw utters whenever they’re caught. kento runs a hand through his hair and scoffs as a muscle in his jaw ticks. one thing he hates are shameless outlaws who claim to have done no wrong.

this man before him has been on countless bounty posters, plastered all over the county. wanted dead or alive, for assault, murder and robbery. bart cavanaugh, the thug’s name is.

kento barks out a harsh laugh, but his face doesn’t show an ounce of emotion. the deputy shifts on his feet. the young man had seen that face on the sheriff countless times before. it’s intimidating and scary, the tension in the room palpable.

“done nothin’ wrong? boy, y’ve been stealin’ and killin’ yer way through half the damn county. and now y' got the audacity to stand there and lie to my face?”

kento steps forward and looms over the outlaw, his broad shoulders squared. his hand drifts to rest on the butt of his holstered revolver. the metal is cool and reassuring against his palm.

“jake, go fetch the preacher. tell him to start diggin' a new grave,” kento orders without taking his piercing eyes off the outlaw. his free hand shoots forward to grab a good handful of the man’s matted hair, yanking it back roughly. the sheriff’s eyes are cold and calculating, “looks like we got us a hangin’ to do ‘fore sundown.”

the outlaw’s eyes widened in fear and he tries to take a step back, but kento’s strength is not to be matched. “but... but you can’t!” he stammers, “i got my rights, i-i'll have ya know that!”

“rights?” kento huffs and releases the thug with a rough shove, dusting his hand off on his blouse as if he touched something filthy. “the only right ye got is the right to wait here and take what's comin’ for ya.”

it did not take long before the outlaw is sentenced, hauled outside and led toward the gallows. kento stretches his arms above his head, feeling the tension slip from his shoulders. another task crossed off the list. he can only hope that the rest of his break will pass quietly without any more disturbances.

the exhausted sheriff drops into the wooden chair behind his desk and leans back with the nth sigh of the day. his fingers fumble with the drawer, and after a moment of rummaging, he pulls out a cigar. he strikes a match and lights it up before placing the stick between his lips. kento closes his eyes and inhales deeply, letting the burn of the tobacco settle his mind.

minutes slip by in silence—just the quiet flicker of the lamp and the rhythmic sound of his own breathing. then, the front door creaks.

kento’s eyes flicker open. a loud prayer sounds in his head; please lord above don't let it be another caught outlaw. not another deputy or bounty hunter with some new problem to throw his way.

however, when he looks up, all the weight on his shoulders vanishes in an instant. there you are - his wife - standing in the doorway like an angel sent to pull him from the depths of his workday hell. the stress, the frustration, all of it fades away in your presence.

kento squints through the haze of cigar smoke as you walk inside with a beaming smile on your face. fuck, you're beautiful. a dream come true.

he takes a long drag and holds it in his lungs before exhaling slowly. the smoke curls around his tired face. his hazel-colored eyes narrow as they rake over your figure. a little provocative, he thinks, not wearing a shawl on your exposed shoulders. especially around these parts of town—with other men lurking that aren’t your husband.

“well, well, if it ain’t my sweet lil' wife,” the blonde rumbles, setting the cigar down in the ashtray. kento leans back in his chair which causes the wooden furniture to creak under his muscular frame. “what brings you ‘round these parts, darlin'?”

it is unusual for you to visit him during work hours. normally, you’d be at the house, attending to your duties. taking care of your cozy home, or perhaps socialising with the other wives around town at one of your regular gatherings. kento didn’t expect to see you here, yet the sight of you is a welcome surprise. even more so when you look so radiant, as if the sunlight itself has wrapped around you.

“ah, you forgot your lunch dear,” you explain with a warm smile. your voice carries a familiar tone that always seems to soothe your husband. you nod politely to his colleagues who’re staring at you in awe and curiosity. you continue, “i started to worry. i can’t possibly have my husband starvin’ at work, now can i? ain't so proper as y’r wife.”

your words make kento’s heart lighten. the smile that has faded from his face the second he left you this morning, finally finds it way back. his entire demeanour softens and his body relaxes.

the two deputies, who have been going about their duties in the background, can’t help but glance over at the scene unfolding. they exchange a bemused look as they watch kento’s demeanor shift the moment you walked into the office. it’s almost comical how quickly the stern, commanding sheriff transforms into a doting and affectionate husband.

kento stands up, his tall, imposing figure towering you as he approaches. the gun belt slung low on his hips clinks softly with each step along with the spurs on his boots. he reaches out, taking the cloth wrapped box from your dainty hands. his calloused fingers brush against your skin, sending a jolt of electricity through him.

“well, much obliged, sugar. yer a real sight for sore eyes,” kento comments, his deep voice lowering to an intimate rumble. he sets the box down on the desk before stepping closer to you. his eyes search for yours while his hands gently rub your sides.

“any time,” you shyly duck your head as you sense the tension between kento and you building up. it’s always like this between you two. the honeymoon phase? for you it’s not a phase, it’s a forever thing. until death do you part.

your hands reach up, slithering from his sides to his chest to straighten his sheriff’s badge. “has work been okay, hun?” you murmur in a honeyed voice, the one that drives kento crazy. neither of you seem to care about his co-workers standing around, lost in your own little bubble.

kento’s hand slides from your side to your throat, fingers skimming over your pulse point, enjoying the rhythm of your heartbeat beneath his touch. “work’s been a pain in the ass, darlin’. same ol’ song and dance,” he replies while his half lidded eyes dart all over your pretty face, “but now that y’re here, it's startin’ to look up.”

your conversation is casual, yet the underlying tension tells you there is more to it. even the deputies become aware of what’s playing in the middle of the office. or more so, what's about to happen if the passion in both kento and his wife’s eyes come to life.

kento can’t help but smirk as you press yourself against him. your soft curves mold to the hard planes of his muscular body, a stark contrast to the gentle hands that hold you close. his eyes darken once he catches you looking up at him through those long lashes of yours. that’s his damn weakness.

“y’know, seein' you here, lookin' like sin in that dress—it’s making me think all sorts of improper thoughts,” he starts in his deep voice. your husband lowers his head to whisper in your ear, “thoughts about bendin’ you over my desk and showin’ ya what happens to naughty little wives who distract their husbands at work.”

a shiver runs down your spine even though this is exactly what you wanted. you came here to deliver kento’s lunch, yes, but you've also missed his attention, affection and most importantly his touch. due to his job, he’s not at home for almost the entire day.

you don’t want to come off as clingy, but when you have a man like kento to call yours, you can’t help but want to be greedy.

the same goes for him as well. kento is ever the devoted lover, head over heels for you, and that includes feeling a great sense of physical attraction to you. he can’t help it—especially when you look so adorable, playing the role of the dutiful wife, visiting him at work to drop off his lunch. it’s a massive turn on.

“l-later. there are others here,” you try to play your erotic interaction off, even as you feel the insistent press of kento's clothed cock against your lower belly. your cheeks heat up as you realise that this bit of proximity had already turned your husband on.

kento licks a stripe up your earlobe, his teeth grazing the flesh before he soothes it with his slick tongue. he knows he shouldn’t be so explicit with you, not here in his office where anyone could walk in. but he simply cannot resist your charms. that pretty body and voice of yours are like a siren’s call to him.

however, he also notices your hesistance because of the company you have. kento, ever the thoughtful man, glances up at the deputies sitting around the office. his gaze hardens and his voice is filled with authority, “don't y’all got better things to do than sittin’ ‘round here?”

it’s a hidden message that all men in the room clearly understood. kento wanted them out and as soon as possible so he can take care of his wife. his duties are put on hold for as long as you need him by your side. he trusts his coworkers to deal with the rest while he’s busy attending to your needs.

the deputies scramble to their feet and grab their stetsons, hurrying out of the office with a chorus of 'yes, sir!' and 'right away, sir!' some smirk knowingly as they make their way out into the muddy streets. they know all too well about kento’s soft spot—the one woman he’d do anything for. even if it means that he ignores his work for a while.

within seconds, the office clears out, leaving kento and you alone. he turns back to you and his eyes instantly roam over your feminine curves. from the swell of your soft breasts to the flare of your hips. oh, his mouth immediately starts to water.

“now, where were we?” the blond man hums. he stalks forward until your back hits the wall with a inaudible thud. you swallow thickly as you look up at kento, who’s staring back at you like you’re a five course meal.

but beneath that passionate gaze is something so intimate. so much more gentle and loving. with every touch, his eyes still search for yours, wordlessly confirming your consent. it’s a habit of his—ever since he took your innocence on your wedding night.

kento’s hands slide down to grab your thighs. he hoists you up and encourages you to wrap your legs around the dip of his waist, holding you between his body and the wall. his eyes flicker downwards to where the skirt of your dress rides up and exposes more of your soft skin to his greedy touch.

“i need you,” your lover breathes against your lips. his mouth is an inch from yours, eager to capture it in a kiss. kento groans the second he feels your clothed cunt press against his throbbing bulge. his fingers dig into the plush flesh of your ass, “shit. i need you now.”

not a second more is wasted as your husband crashes his lips against yours. he presses you back against the wall, moaning into your mouth. this is what he missed the most. your touch, your taste— it makes him feel alive. like all his hard work is worth it.

your fingers curl into his blond locks, tugging at them as your lips move in sync. your tongues roll around each other and your lower bodies move accordingly, grinding for fiction. “are ye sure? right here?” you ask between gasps, voice muffled as his lips interlock with yours repeatedly.

kento pulls away, but not fully. he can’t let you go in any way or form. his head instantly dives into the crook of your neck, his breath hot and heavy against your skin. he immediately latches onto your throat and kisses his way down to your collarbone.

this is exactly what he needs after a hard day. the familiar perfume mixing with the faint scent of your arousal and something so homey—it’s dizzying.

“never been more sure,” your husband groans once he feels your nails gently drag down from his nape to his back, slipping beneath the collar of his blouse. little minx, he thinks, knowing exactly what makes a man weak.

kento tilts his head back so he can look into your eyes. your gaze catches his and you’re taken aback by how handsome he looks. he always does, of course, but this sight just makes you clench around nothing. it leaves you throbbing in your underwear.

the way his neat hair has now turned messy, locks covering his half-lidded eyes, biceps straining against the material of his blouse, sharp jaw clenching with the effort to hold himself back from completely ravaging you. . .

you’re soaked.

kento grins at the way your kiss-swollen lips fall apart in a small ‘o’ as you admire him. he knows he looks good and it boosts his confidence. “keep lookin’ at me like that,” he encourages as his lower body grinds against yours.

you can feel the thick outline of his dick pressing and rubbing against your clothed cunt and it causes you to jerk in place. your moans get swallowed by your husband’s lips once more, his mouth not giving you a moment to breathe as he kisses you more demandingly this time.

kento carries you to his desk, not once separating your lips from his. he sits down on his chair and settles you down on his thick thighs. your arms immediately wrap around his neck to deepen the kiss.

the steamy make out session continues for a while, both of you breathless. you finally pull back for some air and open your eyes to meet your husband’s. the way he’s looking at you, like you’re his entire world, makes you weak in the knees.

“let me take care of ya first,” you suggest in a hoarse whisper against his lips. you feel kento stiffen beneath you, his cock throbbing impatiently in his slacks at the implication.

“go right on ahead,” he bites his lip and watches your wandering hands drag down from his shoulders to his chest. the muscle in his jaw ticks as he tries his best not to intervene—to grab and bend you over his desk already.

kento’s breath catches in his throat as your delicate hands worked at his belt, the leather creaking softly as you undo the buckle. he watches, transfixed, as you tug his pants down.

suddenly, his large hand reaches out to wrap around your smaller one, squeezing it. “wait,” kento hisses and his adam’s apple bobs in his throat. he’s trying so hard not to lose control.

he takes a deep breath after closing his eyes, hips bucking lightly against your warm palm as it rests against the deliciously big bulge in his undergarments. you gently drop to your knees in front of him while giving him some time to regain his composure.

when kento opens his eyes again, he lets out a low growl from the back of his throat at the sight of you looking up at him with those big eyes. so ready, so eager to please your husband. it can make him bust a nut in his underwear.

“go on,” he whispers gruffly, letting go of your hand but not before giving it a quick kiss. that gentleman side of his never fails to make an appearance, even during sinful moments like these.

you nod and smile in excitement. you lick your lips before hooking your fingers beneath the material of the jockstraps. you slowly tug it down and free his aching cock from its confines. the thick length springs up, gently slapping against his lower stomach and leaving a smear of sticky pre-cum on the fabric of his blouse.

kento’s cock was a thing of beauty—long, thick, and girthy, with a bulbous head already glistening with arousal. veins puls along the shaft, and a faint clump of blonde curls dusted the base. the musky scent of his desire fill your nostrils, making your head swim with need.

the pre-cum trickles enticingly from the slit of his tip, a drop slithering down slowly to his heavy balls. it’s evident how much you affect the man and it makes your tummy do a flip.

“mmh— kento. y’re so hard already,” you moan as your pink tongue lolls out to lap up the sticky liquid from the head. you give it a couple small licks to tease your partner, a coy grin playing at your lips.

kento growls, one hand coming down to tangle in your hair at the contact. “fuckk, sugar,” he instinctively thrusts his hips forward, the swollen head of his cock brushing against your soft cheek, leaving pearly drops of pre-cum on your skin. “been thinkin’ about this sweet lil’ mouth all damn day. dreamin’ about them pretty lips wrapped around my dick,” he breathes heavily.

the once composed sheriff is a total mess. he squeezes the base of his dick as he gently taps your cheek with it, trying to coax your lips to part. “c’mon. ye can’t keep this from me any longer,” kento grunts with his brows furrowed.

when you blow some warm air on his tip, he throws his head back at the contact. he’s aching for relief and sitting there teasing him. he could manhandle you to comply, but he’s simply too needy for your touch to do so.

kento gulps before looking down at you. his expression is a mix of frustration, pleasure and neediness. his cheeks are flushed, blonde locks covering his eyes. he breathes out his plea in a shaky tone;

“please.”

your jaw drops at that unexpected moment of vulnerability. it’s thrilling and causes you to immediately give in to his charms. you silently hum in agreement before wrapping your lips around his tip, swallowing inch after inch slowly.

a guttural groan tore from kento’s throat as your hot, eager mouth engulfs his twitching cock. the sensation of your tongue swirling around the sensitive head, lapping up the pre that still leaks steadily from the head, was almost more than he could bear. his fingers tighten in your hair, gripping the strands as he fought the urge to thrust deep into your throat and take his pleasure.

“awh shit,” kento growls. his voice is strained with pleasure at this point, not even able to say things properly. “yer mouth feels so fuckin’ good ‘round my dick.” he watches through heavy-lidded eyes as you take him deeper, his thick length disappearing inch by inch between your plump and kiss-swollen lips. the sight of you, on your knees before him, servicing him with such enthusiasm, sends a surge of pure primal satisfaction through him.

you redouble your efforts and bob your head. up and down, up and down—a hypnotic rhythm that has the man in front of you wrapped around your little finger.

“such a good little wife—yeah, jus’ like that,” kento’s hips rock up to your downward movements, driving his cock deeper into the tight, wet heat of your mouth.

he can feel the wet muscles fluttering around him, could hear the obscene sounds of your gagging and slurping as you struggle to take him all the way. but you didn’t stop, didn’t pull away. instead, you start sucking him with a fervor that has him seeing stars.

kento’s eyes roll back and he’s trying his best not to cum on spot. he wants to last longer, wants to relish the feeling of you pleasuring him and most importantly—he wants to spend his cum well. in a place where it can take root, where it’d serve its intended purpose.

inside you.

but it’s hard. so hard. especially when you’re watching his every reaction, eyes so captivating and alluring as you suck the soul out of him.

“don’t—oh lord,” kento grits his teeth as your hands cup his balls and squeeze them, rolling them in your palm. the dual sensations of your mouth and hands working in tandem had his breath coming in harsh pants, his muscular chest heaving with the force of it.

your husband’s head tilts backwards, the chair creaking beneath him as he grips the armrests with white knuckles. he’s lost in the sensation of you worshipping his dick, your moans vibrating around his shaft as you slurp and suck with abandon. he knows he will not last much longer at this rate, knows he is going to paint your mouth white with his seed any second now.

kento doesn’t really want to, but he also does. he’s conflicted, though it’s already too late. one particular suck and his tip hitting the deepest parts of your throat sends him over the edge.

“ah, fuck! cummin’, sweetheart!” he moans loudly, his eyes squeezed shut as the first spurts of his hot seed flow from his cock. he can’t stop it, even as he tries to pull your head off due to the overstimulation.

when you finally let his dick go with a lewd, wet pop, kento gasps for air, pushing the hairs away from your face. you’re looking so debauched, so lost in the pleasure, it sends his blood rushing southwards. again.

“there ye go. swallow it all down f’ me,” he mutters quietly, voice rough as his thumb swipes away at the cum on the corners of your mouth. he watches your throat work as you drink down the taste of him.

before you can catch your breath, kento hauls you up off the floor and onto his lap, his hands gripping your waist tightly. he feels the renewed throb of his erection pressing insistently against your thigh, already aching for more.

“dammit, darlin’,” he clicks his tongue, his voice rough and ragged with lust. “y’ve got me so fuckin’ worked up— can’t hold back no more.” his callused hands slide down to grab your round ass, kneading the flesh roughly as he grinds your clothed cunt against his wet dick.

kento stands abruptly and sweeps the contents of his desk onto the floor with a crash. papers flutter everywhere as he bends you over the now empty surface, the rough wood digging into your soft skin. he can’t care less about those important documents. not when he has his wife in front of him.

he flips the hem of your dress up, the material pooling around your waist to bare your underwear-clad ass. you’re already so wet, your pussy lips clinging to the soaked fabric of your undergarments, outlining your cunt perfectly. it’s a sight that makes kento weak in the knees.

“look at this sweet lil’ ass,” the blonde man rasps, delivering a sharp smack to one cheek. the sound echoes through the office, followed by your startled yelp. “she’s g’nna be hurtin’ when i’m done with her, i bet.”

you arch your back in response to the slaps against your bottom, “mhh, kento. need you real bad.” your ass rippling with each smack to it, along with your soft voice begging for him, makes your husband dizzy.

with a muttered curse, kento rips your underwear off, the flimsy fabric tearing like tissue paper in his large hands. he tosses the ruined garment aside, leaving you bare and exposed to his ravenous touch. his callused fingers delve between your thighs, finding you dripping wet and ready.

“tsk. would ya look at that,” he groans, plunging two thick fingers knuckle-deep into your tight cunt. “yer fuckin’ soaked. practically beggin’ for my cock like the needy lil’ slut you are.”

you can only moan in response, your hips bucking back against his invading fingers. those nasty words being said by your usual sweet lover makes you crave more. the obscene squelch of your arousal fills the air as he pumps his digits in and out of your fluttering pussy. you can feel every ridge and vein on his fingers as they stretch you open so well, preparing you for his thick cock.

“that’s it, baby,” kento encourages, his thumb finding your clit beneath its hood and rubbing the sensitive nub in rough circles. “get this sweet cunt nice and ready f’ me. am gonna make you feel so good, i promise.”

kento’s fingers pump faster, plunging in and out of your dripping pussy with wild abandon. the wet, sloppy sounds of your arousal fill the room as your slick walls clench greedily around the invading digits. he can feel you getting closer, your body tensing and quivering as he worked you towards a peak.

“cummin’ already? naughty girl,” kento growls, his voice a low, dominant rumble, “can’t have that.”

with a harsh tug, he yanks his fingers from your weeping cunt, leaving you empty and aching. “kennnn,” you whine as your fingernails dig into the wooden desk beneath you. you wiggle your hips back in frustration, needing more.

kento can see your hole clenching around air, trying to draw something back inside. the sight makes him groan, his cock throbbing painfully between his thick thighs. he’s such a weak man when it comes to you.

“i hear ya— i hear ya,” he mutters, giving in quickly to your needy whine. your dear husband can’t tease you when you’re basically begging him to take you. he grips himself in one hand, stroking his shaft as he rubs the swollen head over your dripping slit.

kento slides the engorged tip teasingly along your slick folds to coat himself in your arousal as he aligns your lower bodies. with a single thrust of his hips, he buries himself fully inside you. his heavy balls slap against your ass with a faint, meaty smack.

“fuuuck!” kento cusses and his voice echoes off the office walls as he hilts his dick in your wet pussy. no matter how many times he ruins your cunt, it’s still as tight as the first time. “fuckin’ hell, sugar,” he breathes out shakily.

your silken walls grip him like a vice, the slick muscles fluttering and clenching around his fat dick. he pauses for just a moment to savore the exquisite sensation of being buried inside his wife's perfect little cunt.

however, he cannot hold back for long. gripping your hips hard enough to leave finger-shaped dents on your flesh, he begins to move, his thighs flexing as he sets a relentless rhythm. the obscene sound of flesh slapping against flesh fills the room as he fucks into you. the ancient desk creaks and shakes with each forceful thrust. it’s a wonder that old thing isn’t breaking.

“tha’s it, take it,” kento snarls. he punctuates each word with a sharp snap of his hips. the feeling of his slick dick slamming into you over and over has him nearly tearing up from pleasure. this is the way to forget about all his earlier problems

“doing so good, honey. yer squeezin’ the life outta me—good girl,” he praises in-between movements. no matter how much he gets lost in the haze of lust, he’s still the sweet nanami kento you know.

his fingers dig into the meat of your ass, kneading and squeezing the soft flesh as he drives into you again and again. you’re overwhelmed by the stretch, the pure pleasure of his dick molding your insides to fit him and him only.

your toes curl as you struggle to lay steady on your tummy. “o-oh, mmh. right there,” your eyes roll back and your body jolts back and forth in sync with his thrusts. your lower tummy and cunt are tingling, needing more stimulation to build up to that mind-blowing orgasm.

“faster, deeper, please— please,” you mewl. you can’t bring yourself to care about the possibility of others hearing you outside the sheriff’s office. let the town folk gossip and whatnot. at the end of the day, you’re the one winning by having a husband like kento.

your lover leans over your arched back, his sweat-slicked chest pressing against your shoulder blades. he kisses the back of your head with a smile playing on his lips, “as you wish.”

one hand slides up your back, tangling in your hair. kento fists it tightly, using it as a handle to yank your head back, forcing your spine into a deeper arch. the new angle lets him drive even deeper into you, his hard cock kissing your cervix with each rough thrust.

kento’s dick plunges inside your cunt with wild abandon and you’re loving it. your sweet noises intensify and you can’t think about anything else but the feeling of you being split open. the tip of his dick touches the deepest parts of you and it’s painful—but the pain is nothing compared to the mind numbing pleasure.

“there we go. gotta get all up in there, aye?” kento pants harshly against the side of your neck, his hot breath fanning over your skin. his other hand reaches around to flick your clit before coming to rest on your lower tummy, “that way i can ensure y’re g’nna end up with a swollen belly.”

the implications of his words make you shudder. you know kento’s always been a family man. always dropping hints of wanting to start a family with you when you’re ready. and he never misses the opportunity to pump you full of his potent cum when you do try for a baby.

“k-ken,” you bite your lip at the thought of it. of succeeding to conceive this time. it’d be because of this lewd moment, in his office out all places. it’s so naughty to the point it’s driving you insane.

kento notices how your body is reacting to his dirty talk and grins to himself. he isn’t clueless—he can feel the way you clench around his dick, as if you’re trying to suck every drop of cum out of his sack. “hm? yer cunt is agreein’ with me, it seems,” he hums.

your lover bites your shoulder as his hips pound against your rear with a strength that’s nearly inhuman. your insides are being turned to mush while you’re drowning in ecstasy.

“yer g’nna make such a good momma,” kento continues to whisper those words in your ears, simply to drive you to the brink of an orgasm. he kisses your earlobe lovingly as his deep voice carries on, “can’t wait to see this beautiful body change to carry my child.”

the dirty talk sure is working. he can feel you tensing, could hear the breathy moans and whimpers spilling from your lips as he brings you closer to the edge. he knows your body—knows every inch of you—and he uses that knowledge drive you utterly mad.

“ah, fuck, ken! honey,” you whine. the contrast between his honeyed voice and rough thrusts that send electric jolts down your spine, is maddening. you can feel the knot tightening in your belly, threatening to snap any second now.

kento’s eyes darken and he grunts in response. the hand that’s been playing with your clit moves to hold onto your hip again for leverage, pounding into you with a passion you’ve never felt before.

“i know,” he mutters gruffly as he watches his cock disappear into your greedy cunt, “i know, sugar. just give yerself t’ me. let go.”

that’s all it really takes. kento feels your body go rigid beneath him as your climax crashes over you like a tidal wave. your walls clamp down around his pistoning cock like a silken vise, fluttering and rippling as you cum hard.

you cry out due to your mind-blowing orgasm. your thighs tremble and your body convulses uncontrollably on the desk—eyes closed as your senses focus on the remaining pleasure.

“fuck, yes— yes yes yes,” kento grunts as your slick fluids gush out around his dick. he can feel the warm, slick heat of your juices splash against his balls and drip down his thighs. the sight of you coming undone on his dick, the sound of your screams of ecstasy filling the room, pushes him over the edge as well.

kento slams into you one final time, burying himself to the hilt in your spasming, sensitive pussy. his cock jerks and throbs inside you as thick ropes of cum erupt from the tip. he can feel each spurt of his load, can count the pulsing jets of cum as he pump you full with it.

“take it—let me breed ya real good,” he pants while grinding his hips against your ass to properly empty himself inside your pulsing cunt. kento shudders as his hips lazily move in small, shallow circles, “get it all nice ‘n deep in there.. yeaaah, good job.”

his grip on your hair tightens for a moment, forcing you to arch you back even more as he slowly rides his orgasm out, his release seeming to go on and on. he senses his hot seed sloshing inside you, can already picture it flooding your fertile womb and taking root.

finally, with a shuddering groan, kento collapses against your back. his large frame easily blankets your smaller one. he notices your body trembling beneath him, could hear the soft whimpers and mewls spilling from you lips as you came down from your high as well. despite that, he stays buried inside you, not wanting to lose a single drop of his cum.

“yer so perfect,” your lover whispers and nuzzles his face into your neck, “the most perfect woman a man could ask for.” that gentleman side of his now makes a full return, as it always does after a particularly rough session. kento takes aftercare quite seriously.

his hands rub your sides and massage your body in places he knows will be sore later on. his lips leave trails of kisses from your neck to your shoulders and back—a testament of his love for you.

after making sure you’re okay, kento eases himself up off your back, his softening dick slipping from your tender folds with a squelch. he looks down to see your combined fluids leaking out from your slit, dripping down your thighs to pool on the rough wood beneath you.

the sight makes him bite back a groan. if it wasn’t for the ounce of self control left inside of him, he’d go for a second round. but he can’t. his coworkers will be back soon anyway.

kento helps you up as well, his hands gripping your waist to steady you as your shaky legs find their footing. “mmh, my lovely wife,” he smiles at you as he cups your face into his hands. he presses a gentle kiss to your forehead and pulls you into a hug, “thank you so much. don’t think i would’ve even survived today if ye didn’t show up.”

you giggle at kento’s dramatics and hug him back tightly, body slowly recovering from the intense passion you two just shared. the fog on the nearby window, the steamy tension and the scent of sex still lingers in the air—something you have to take care of soon before others come to visit.

but for now, you’ll just enjoy the warmth of your husband’s embrace. that’s all what really matters.

[fleetingpetal]

જ⁀ 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐡𝐮𝐠. ᯓ ᡣ𐭩

. . . very self-explanatory. you merely wanted to give your lover a hug.

— ꒰⁠ the eccentric squad ꒱. fluff.

word count ( combined ). 612.

content warning. absolutely nothing apart from everyone ( except 'nushi ) being surprised pikachu face, but different flavors.

additional notes. please have this really short and kinda rushed piece until i work something out for my 100 followers special that isn't just a kabukimono drawing thanks 🤍

星. ( wc: 114 )

out of the four — kuronushi is the least surprised one. but you do earn an amused yet warm smile out of him. his arms would envelope you in a soft embrace.

despite the calm disposition; you had his heart soaring in his chest. and truly, even if something was weighing on your mind, he would still reciprocate with a heartbeat because if there is one thing the kasan adores; it's spoil his loving darling with love.

“what’s with the sudden gesture, songbird?” he'd ask in a knowing tone, which earns him a slightly sweeter smile and for your gentle embrace to tighten slightly in response.

that was all he needed for an answer.

太陽. ( wc: 146 )

kabukimono undergoes the five stages of grief, but make it surprise.

first it would be him being the very embodiment of a statue as he remains still in place, rightfully taken aback. the second would have him internalizing that this is reality, he wasn't having another fleeting dream again. the third would leave him internalizing this some more as his arms subconsciously wrap around your figure. the fourth would be the stage of realization as a small smile adorns his face, a smile that eventually softens then brightens as the fifth stage would be him enthusiastically reciprocating the embrace.

“you startled me for a bit there,” the puppet would confess with a slight laugh, “is something wrong?”

“not at all,” you'd respond, your tone warm and reassuring as ever. which only makes his smile widen in sheer joy.

“i just wanted to give you a hug.”

月. ( wc: 173 )

out of the four — kunikuzushi is the most surprised one. the definition of a statue as his mind short circuits. the tension hugged him tighter in contrast to you, and he looks at you; confusion clouding the incredibly faint glimmer of curiosity in his eyes.

just what exactly is going on through your head this time to distract him from doing his nails? honestly, how annoyingly unpredictable could you get. but the balladeer digressed, choosing to situate a hand of his on your back. it was the best he could do for now.

“what is it?” he'd ask in a quiet tone, his gaze expressing indifference yet his touch on you is gentle and lingering as he brought you a little bit closer to him. his hand subconsciously trailing down to your lower back as your embrace grew warmer and more reassuring to him, causing the tension to leave his body bit by bit.

“nothing.” you replied, still maintaining that smile of yours as you felt his arm loosely wrap around you.

日食. ( wc: 179 )

the wanderer is a bit of both kabukimono and kunikuzushi. sure, you suddenly decided to hug him while he was occupied with cooking lunch for the two of you and nahida, but the gesture wasn't unwelcome. neither was it unwanted.

he was still occupied with cutting the zaytun peaches and the bulle fruits for the little sprout, so how he reciprocates your embrace is by pausing his work and leaning his head slightly against yours, a slight smile adorning his face as he observes the way your expression brightens at his choice of how to reciprocate the gesture.

his lips sneakily find their way to plant a featherlight kiss to your head before he directs his attention back to slicing the bulle fruits into neat, ever so slightly uneven cuts. and the wanderer relishes in being able to feel your gaze on him, better yet, being in your arms from behind. but such words are feelings are better left unsaid.

after all, you are aware and so is he. what's the point in expressing such feelings through words?

[foxy-eva]

Drunk on You

Summary: Spencer is completely and utterly infatuated with you

Request: Pussy drunk Spencer where it’s the first time they sleep together and he’s completely obsessed with being inside her and eating her out (initially requested to @imagining-in-the-margins) 

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Category: Smut 

Content Warning: (18+, minors DNI) heavy kissing, handjob, fingering, oral (fem receiving), protected penetrative sex, slight overstimulation

Word Count: 2.2k

Masterlist

Maybe it was a bit cliché to invite Spencer into your apartment for coffee after your date. The ulterior motive was obvious but there was no elegant way of telling him what you really wanted. He didn’t seem to mind when he accepted your offer with a grin on his face. 

The tension between the two of you was palpable once you stepped through your door. The warm amber of Spencer’s irises shone even brighter under the lighting of your living room. It was mesmerizing to look at him, so much so that you quickly forgot about the coffee. 

Spencer couldn’t care less. It was obvious that he knew a hot beverage wasn’t exactly what you craved right then. The way he licked his lips as he looked at you gave away that he was longing for something else, too. 

Stepping closer, you left barely any space between the two of you. The warmth he radiated penetrated your skin and spread through your body. You breathed in his scent, a pleasant mix of his cologne and laundry detergent. 

“So,” you teased as you leaned closer. “Are you gonna kiss me now or what?” 

“Gladly,” he chuckled. 

To your surprise, he took his time with you. His fingers found your jaw, gently brushing along your skin before slightly tilting your head. His other hand made contact with your waist to pull you even closer. Then, unhurriedly and with a precise motion, he finally leaned in to close the distance. 

Once your mouths made contact there was no more holding back, though. His lips were soft yet demanding and he didn’t waste any time to deepen the kiss. Tasting you broke any resistance Spencer had and he couldn’t keep up his demeanor anymore. 

His fingertips dug into your waist before you felt them trembling against your body. His tongue brushed over yours as if you had finally granted him the first taste of water after a life-long drought. When your hands found the nape of his neck to playfully tug at his curls, he unabashedly moaned against your lips. 

Spencer was desperate to make you his and he had no intention of hiding that from you. His lips only left yours to gasp for air before kissing you some more. When you wanted to lean back to look at him, he chased your mouth and immediately closed the distance again.

His enthusiasm made you smile into the kiss and he noticed. That was when he finally slowed down, leaving a few more feather-light pecks on your mouth before leaning back. 

“Sorry,” he awkwardly laughed. “I’ve been waiting so long to do this.” 

“Don't apologize,” you breathed. “I like how eager you are.” 

To prove your words, you took his hand in yours to lead him into your bedroom. Spencer wasn’t the only one who had been waiting too long for this to finally happen. You had no intention of acting shy with him when it was clear how much the both of you yearned for each other’s nearness. 

Right beside your bed you came to a halt and turned to him. Patiently he watched as you undid the buttons of his dress shirt and brushed the fabric over his shoulders. Once the shirt dropped to the floor, your hands wandered along the waistband of his pants. 

Your eyes followed the movements of your fingers and you couldn’t ignore the outline of his hardness straining against his trousers. You looked at the man in front of you and found him staring at you with the utmost adoration in his eyes. 

“Can I touch you?” You asked and he nodded. 

Your palm carefully made contact with his clothed cock and a sigh immediately escaped Spencer’s throat. He leaned into your touch and twitched against the fabric of his confines. You decided to free him as you undid his pants and slowly pulled them down together with his underwear. 

As you took your time to admire the beauty of your lover, you completely forgot your surroundings. Only Spencer’s hand brushing along your arm brought you back to reality. You locked eyes with him again and felt your cheeks heating up. 

“You’re so handsome,” you mumbled. 

His hand found the fabric of your shirt and tugged on it as he cooed, “I want to see you, too.”

Together you got rid of the remaining pieces of clothing until both of you were completely bare. You lay down on the mattress to continue kissing without any barriers between your bodies. 

Spencer hovered over you when he began kissing down your neck. He left sweet pecks on your skin before biting down on your pulse point, drawing a whine from your lips. To soothe the angry skin, he carefully licked along it before moving further down your body. 

“You smell so good,” he groaned as he kissed your breasts. “I can’t get enough of you.” 

He took one of your hardened peaks into his mouth while his hand found the other, teasing it with his fingers until you couldn’t hold back your moans. When he heard your hymn of praise, he hummed into your skin. 

Hungry lips found one another once more. “You are marvelous,” Spencer mumbled into the kiss. 

While he was distracted with his mouth on yours, a curious hand made its way down his body to wrap around his erection. It made him whimper against your lips. Your fingers brushed over velvety skin until they found the weeping tip to spread his arousal over it. 

“Fuck!” he hissed as he looked down his body to watch your hand caressing him. 

“Do you like that?” you teased as you kept stroking him a little harder. 

His hand found your wrist to stop your movements. “Yeah, a little too much,” he confessed and his words made you smile. 

You let go of him and watched as his fingertips danced along your chest and down your stomach until they reached their destination between your legs. Tentatively, he let one finger glide along your slit before spreading your folds apart. When he found you already dripping with desire, he groaned, “So wet for me.” 

He collected your dew on his fingertips and dragged it along your folds before circling your most sensitive spot. The sounds of your pleasure only spurred him further on, caressing you some more before he breached your entrance with two digits, finding little resistance from your body. 

Spencer kissed along your neck as he curled his fingers inside you, pressing against a spot that made you light-headed and let your walls flutter around him. He seemed to relish feeling your body like this, taking his time to explore your core before settling on a steady pace. It didn’t take long for you to dance along the edge of euphoria. 

His lips brushed along your ear as he whispered, “I can’t wait to fuck you.” 

That was all it took for your undoing. Spencer groaned as he felt you pulsing around his fingers, your entire body writhing as you found relief. You were still panting when he withdrew his fingers, making you whine at the loss of contact. 

With a playful smirk spread over his face, he brought his hand to his mouth to lick your release from his fingers, savoring the taste of your cunt on his tongue. 

“You taste so good,” he breathed before moving down your body. “I need more.”

Before he could settle down between your thighs, you grabbed his shoulders. The feeling of being empty was overwhelming and you yearned to be filled out by him. Even though the prospect of having his mouth on you was exciting, it was not what you needed then. 

“I need you inside me now,” you whimpered. “Please, Spencer.” 

He kneeled between your legs when he chuckled, “How could I say no to that?” 

Hurriedly and with little grace you reached over to your nightstand to get a condom from the drawer. Spencer didn’t waste any more time when he took the wrapper from your hands to put the condom on. As he leaned over you, you watched him closing his eyes for a moment before he aligned his cock at your entrance. 

Then, after locking eyes with you, he began pushing his hips against yours. He hissed a curse at the sensation of slowly stretching you open one inch at the time. When he dared to look down between your bodies, he got so overwhelmed at the sight of his cock entering you that he almost came on the spot. 

Quickly, he averted his sight to get his composure back. Your walls fluttered around him and you felt him twitch in response. Once he had filled you up to the hilt, he took a moment to feel your heartbeat deep inside you. 

“Spencer,” you whined as you began rocking your hips against his. “Please!” 

He didn’t mean to tease you or test your patience. He just wanted to fully savor this moment. Feeling you tightly wrapped around him made his head spin. He felt inebriated when he began moving and started to think you had cast some kind of spell on him. 

“You feel so good,” he breathed when he began moving. “So tight for me.” 

Pure magic was the only explanation for what you made him feel. Spencer struggled to wrap his head around the fact that this was reality. Nothing else mattered other than being right there with you, making you his as he fucked you against the mattress. 

“Harder!” you cried and Spencer obliged. 

It proved to be a mistake, though. As he watched you quiver underneath him, the bedframe shaking with his forceful thrusts, he struggled to delay his downfall. Feeling you getting even tighter around him made it impossible to not fully indulge in this sensation. 

With his whole body trembling, he tried but failed to slow himself down. Desperation was written over his face as he attempted to prolong the feeling of being inside you. Of course you noticed it, too. Seeing him fall apart on top of you as pleasure overcame him was exhilarating and you had no intention of slowing him down.  

“Come for me,” you murmured and Spencer’s eyes widened at your words. 

Then, with a particularly hard thrust, he did. Trembling and groaning, the built-up tension was released as his climax washed over him. 

Before you had a chance to wrap your arms around him to welcome him inside your embrace, he pulled out of you and quickly moved down your body. With your head still spinning, it took you several seconds to realize what he was doing. 

Only when you felt his tongue glide through your folds did you comprehend that he had found his new home between your legs. 

“Oh fuck, Spencer!” You hissed at the feeling of his mouth caressing your sensitive center. 

Like a man starved he collected your honeyed wetness on his tongue, moaning into your skin as he tasted your heady aroma. The vibrations he created sent shockwaves through your body, prompting you to buck your hips against his face.

Seemingly unfazed by your reaction, he wrapped his arms around your legs to keep you in place as he continued pleasuring you with his tongue and mouth. 

“So good,” he whispered against your heat. 

Despite his effort to hold you securely against his mouth, you were sure you might start floating at any moment. Two of his fingers found their way into you, adding more pressure and bringing you closer to your undoing. 

It only took a few more seconds until ecstasy overcame you. Your thighs trembled as you rode out your high, rocking gently against Spencer’s face. He didn't let go of you, though. Almost in a trance-like state he kept caressing you, licking up your release as you writhed underneath him. 

Your chest was heaving when you looked at him, eyes closed and half of his face buried between your legs. Spencer didn't even consider stopping, not when you tasted so heavenly, even more so after you came. Drunk on your taste and scent, he would have been more than happy to spend the rest of his night right there. 

It became too overwhelming for you, though. The constant stimulation was too much to bear and almost became uncomfortable, so your hands found his curls to pull on them. “Enough,” you murmured.

In an instant, he removed his mouth from your core to litter your inner thighs with little kisses. Then he looked up at you, a wicked grin painted on his glistening face. He wiped himself clean with the back of his hand before plopping down beside you. 

“Sorry, uh…” he muttered. “I got a little carried away.” 

You placed a kiss on his lips, noticing your own scent still lingered on them. 

“I’m not complaining,” you purred. “I just need a little break. We can continue later.” 

The glimmer in his eyes at your words must have been akin to someone witnessing a miracle. Content with the prospect of doing all of this again, he wrapped you into his arms. 

Please like, reblog and leave a comment! I need your lovely words to stay motivated to write more stories.

Taglist: @adoredfromafar @grumpyy-bearr @frickin-bats @pleasantwitchgarden @cynbx @xserenax-13 @alexxavicry @samuel-de-champagne-problems @evvy96 @reidsbookclub @lover-of-books-and-tea @sebs-oxygen @nomajdetective @kobaltdragon @matthew-gray-gubler-lover @castiels-majestic-wings

[dolcekissy]

ditzy , ღ

: ̗̀➛ rafe dating ditzy!reader.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ masterlist

disclaimer // 18+ content. this story includes mentions of sex.

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rafe dating ditzy!reader would definitely consist of him getting super frustrated at times. listen you're his baby, there's no doubt about that ─ but how did you forget to buckle your seatbelt?

the amount of times rafe has had to slam on the breaks on you're damn near flying out of the window? he's made sure to buckle you in every single time you're in his car. fortunately enough for him, you never drive anywhere without him ─ so rafe doesn't have to worry about you forgetting to buckle your seat belt when you're alone.

"what the fu─ are you okay? where is your seatbelt?" his eyes are wide after a pedestrian ran right in front of his car ─ slamming on the breaks as fast as he could.

"uh ─ i forgot!"

rafe would keep his eyes on you at all times. the amount of times you've almost been ran over while walking down the street with him is just fucking ridiculous to him. does your brain just shut off when you're with him?

he'll point a finger at you, pointing to his side while he stares at you with a stern look. "ba ─ baby! watch out ─ stand here and hold my hand, cant have you wandering off and dying on me."

it's like babysitting a child that keeps trying to wander off ─ completely oblivious to everything and in their own little world.

ninety percent of the time he's just highly fucking confused. one second you're talking about your friends and the next you're gasping and running over to pick a flower and putting it in your hair.

he watches you bounce around while your attention moves to one thing then the next. whole time he's just like, 'what in the actual fucking fuck is happening.'

you'll run back over, put the flower in your hair and scrunch your face up in confusion trying to think about what you were just talking to him about before you saw such a beautiful flower.

"what was i talking about again?"

sex with you is so tea though. since you're literally so stupid and can't pay attention at times, rafe knows once he gives you that dick...whew you're SAT.

his dick is just too good for your attention to be on anything else - if anything, during sex your attention is completely on him and his touch. no other thoughts fill your head but him.

rafe, rafe, rafe - yes, yes, yes

there's been plenty of times he'll stop everything you two are doing to fuck you. you're just doing too much and he's tired of watching you, okay? just need a little redirecting with his dick ;)

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[tetsuskei]

⟣insufferable husband – kuroo tetsurō [nsfw]

synopsis: your husband invests in other activities as you pack his lunch for work

notes: repost from old account. working on newer kuroo things in the meantime

warnings: established relationship, female reader, creampie, oral sex (female receiving), pet names, fingering

"there you are."

you shift your head in the direction of the voice to see your sleepy husband standing in the opening to the kitchen. he rubs his eyes tiredly, a frown on his face as he looks at you inquisitively.

"good morning, grumps." you smile before looking back to what you're doing.

kuroo mumbles, shuffling over to you, "what are you doing up so early?"

"i'm making your lunch for work today," you answer, feeling his body warmth from behind you, "i forgot to do it last night, sorry."

"'is okay," he says, resting his chin on the top of your head, wrapping his arms around your waist.

it's normal for kuroo to cling to you while you do things. even normal for him to pet at you and get a little touchy. but today, this particular morning, he seems...different. more needy than usual.

his fingers rub circles into your hipbone before he moves his hands up your sides. knowing him, it's only a matter of time before he would try something.

you feel him press some of his weight into you, and you take that as a sign of him being drowsy.

"hey, if you're still tired go back to bed. okay? i'll make sure i wake you up when it's time." you pat his arm, and he only grunts, moving to hide his face in your side.

"m'not tired." he says, breath tickling your skin. the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

"okay..." you sigh, shivering when his large hands move under the large t-shirt you wear. his t-shirt. the cold metal of his wedding band forces a hiss from your mouth and you click your tongue.

"tetsu, you're cold."

he smiles into your neck, his mischievous nature practically emitting off of him. "sorry...but, i know a way to warm us up."

"that's...not what i meant."

he laughs, a free hand grabbing at your boob. "yeah, well, i did."

you sigh, rolling your eyes. "you're insufferable and an idiot."

"you married this insufferable idiot, sweetheart." he hums, hand wandering down to your shorts. his hands finger at the waistband before hooking in them, pulling them down.

"i guess you're right about that." you say. he pulls off your panties and you step of them and kick them away.

he hums, "glad you agree. let's see if 'she' does too."

"you're so corny." you giggle, a small moan escaping when his thick fingers tease your opening.

"and you're so wet. just like i'd knew you'd be."

you go to retort, but stop when he pushes two fingers into you. a gasp leaves your mouth and you put your hand up to your face to suppress a moan.

kuroo makes a sound of disapproval, removing your hand from your face. "wanna hear you.”

and it isn't long before another moan slips out of you, louder than you initially wanted it to be. he's pushed in a third finger, making you feel almost as full as his cock.

"you're always so tight, it's a miracle i can ever fit in you." he mutters, pumping his fingers leisurely. you whine, trying to move your hips against his hand, but the steel grip of his free hand on your side prevents you.

you try your best to focus on your task at hand, but with the way your husband is moving his fingers vigorously against you is almost too distracting.

the feeling is shallow and slow, you can feel the knot in your stomach wanting to break, but he purposely is depriving you of it.

"tetsu, stop teasing me..." you pout, looking back at him with a small frown.

"m'sorry, i couldn't help it." he chuckles before he moves his thumb over your nub, circling it generously.

a sharp whine leaves you and your back instinctively presses into his chest.

"i-i'm—" you gasp.

he hums, kissing your temple. "let go for me, baby."

you waste no time cumming, quivering and shaking in his hold. you have to stop what you're doing and grip onto his forearm for stability.

"good girl," he praises, watching in awe as you cream on his fingers, mesmerized by the throbbing of your clenching muscles. he can't wait to feel that around his cock.

he slowly pulls out his fingers, sucking on them with a groan.

you normally would reach back and pull him out, but due to the preoccupied nature of your hands making his food, you don't. you only hear the sound of clothing being removed and discarded away. the audible 'slap' of his shaft hitting his skin makes you shiver.

your breath hitches when you feel the heat of kuroo's thick cock before he rests it on your butt. he slowly strokes himself, groaning at the sensitivity.

"you don't mind if your 'insufferable' husband fills you up, do you?" kuroo asks, his voice low in your ear.

"i think you know the answer." you huff, parting your legs slightly.

the tension in the atmosphere is so thick, a knife could cut it. but it slowly dissolves away with your husband entering you. and as much as you try to remain composed at him pushing himself inside of you, it's impossible when handling his thickness and length.

a small whimper escapes you and he leans over to kiss you on the lips, mumbling soft words of encouragement as he slowly presses himself into you.

the stretch is always so worth it when he finally fills you up all the way. instinctively you clench around him, pleasant euphoria washing over you at being full.

"shit," kuroo hisses, pressing his pelvis completely flush to you. he closes his eyes, sighing at the welcoming nature of your warmth and gently rubs the fat of your ass.

the two of you stay like that for a moment, kuroo pressing kisses over the bare skin of your neck.

he squeezes your hip, "is it okay for me to move, baby?"

you nod frantically, losing your voice. "please."

and when he does, it's not fast, and hard. it's slow and deep enough that your toes are left curling. his now bruising grip on your hips makes up for the lack of roughnesses present.

the only sounds present aren't ones of any innocence. the slight squelch coming from how wet you are makes the both of you more aroused. small whines and whimpers escape you paired with the sound of his balls slapping against your skin.

kuroo, usually the charmer with words, is silent. the only sounds are his heavy breathing and quiet moaning.

"more tets, more," you plea, and you feel him shake his head.

"don't...don't want this to end so soon," he groans, "if i move any faster i'll cum. wanna feel you longer," he explains, tone ending in a whine.

his words nearly make your eyes tear up and you understand, relishing in the way his cock carves itself repeatedly into you. the knot in your stomach there, but not quite present.

"always feel so good, sweetheart," he's moving a bit faster now, his movements rocking you against the counter a bit. "love being inside of you."

your heart flutters at this statement, humming, "always feels so good being filled up by you, 'ro..."

his heart swells at the praise and he grips you harder, his lips sneaking to nibble and bite at the column of your neck

"just a little more, i promise." he assures, kissing your shoulder. his thrusts switch to being slow and shallow and the feeling of your impending orgasm is slipping from your hands.

"kuroo," you warn.

he rolls his eyes, clicking his tongue, "don't call me that. you have the same last name, kuroo."

"tetsu," you try, "baby, please. i want to cum..."

he nearly stalls at the pet name, eyes wide, "don't..don't say that without warning me..."

"what? my sweet tetsu, my handsome man..." you coo, reaching back to run a hand through his hair, tugging on the roots.

"i'm gonna cum," he groans, head bowing back for a moment, "if you don't stop..."

you squeeze his hand, batting your eyes innocently, "inside?"

"f-fuck, wherever you want me to. whatever you want." he's twitching uncontrollably by this point, just about ready to burst.

you smile back at him, pouting a little, "then can my husband cum for me? for his wife?"

at the feeling of your hand pulling on his hair again, he cums instantly, warmth spilling inside of you quickly as he fills you up.

you squeeze your cunt, milking every bit that he gives you greedily, as you don't want to miss a drop.

kuroo slowly pulls out of you, groaning when part of his cum leaks down your thighs. that's a sight he'll never get tired of.

by that point you were done fixing his lunch and you lean against the counter to hold up your jello legs.

"god woman, were you trying to kill me just then?" he huffs catching his breath.

you grin, "no, not today."

he looks at you dumbfounded but laughs, grabbing your face to kiss you. you giggle and he slips his tongue in your mouth, hand holding your jaw as he greedily tastes you.

when you both pull away for air, you speak, "you—"

"yeah yeah, i'll clean you up." he mumbles before you can complain.

but what you aren't expecting is for your husband to kneel right there in the kitchen and use his mouth to do so.

you gasp, knuckles gripping the counter and jaw going slack as you try to look back at him. "t-tetsurō!"

he only hums, grinning lazily, "itadakimasu," hands firmly keeping you in place as he licks and sucks up every bit of you and his cum from between your legs.

you cry at the way his nose bumps against your clit and shamelessly grind back on his face. he moans at this, feeling his cock twitch back to life but pays it no mind, only touching himself occasionally.

"i know you got another in you, pretty girl," he says, before promptly reaching around your front and toying with your clit.

you lean forward on the counter for support, bracing yourself with your elbows as your legs start to give with how good he's making you feel.

it should not surprise you at this point that kuroo is able to bring you to an orgasm so quickly even when you just had one. as your husband, your lover, your eternally bounded soulmate, he knows your body inside and out.

he's sucking and licking at your cunt like a starving man. slurping and gulping all together and making a mess between your legs. the grip he has on your ass cheeks is brutal with how spread they are.

it hits you before you can even think, and you wail, feeling your orgasm wash over your harder than the other times.

"fuck, that's it. cum for me like a good girl." he praises as you do. he pulls away slowly, kissing your hip and stands back up.

he wipes his mouth, smirking at you, "don't think i'll need to eat breakfast after that."

"g-get out of here before you're really late to work." you stammer, cheeks hot with embarrassment as you try not to look down.

"as you wish, princess. love you," kuroo laughs at how cute and shy you've become, swooping down to plant a quick kiss on your mouth so you can taste you both. he takes both of your clothes off the ground before proceeding to your shared bedroom to start his day.

you can't help but slap him on the butt, making an uncharacteristic yelp leave him.

"love you too!"

a dazed smile sits on your face. it's mornings like these that remind you just how grateful you are to have a man like him in your life.

[yuujispinkhair]

College Boy!Sukuna accidentally knocking you up

A while ago, I saw a post that asked which of our faves accidentally knocks us up, and I answered it with "CollegeBoy!Sukuna." So here is the fic about that ;)

Modern!Sukuna x Reader (female). Fluff. College AU. Light angst with a happy end. 2k words. Pregnancy, mentions of Sukuna smoking a cigarette. All characters are of age. Minors don't interact. Divider@/plutism + dollsciples

"Damn, princess, how long does that shitty thing need?"

Sukuna has dropped his usual act of aloofness. For once, there is no teasing comment coming out of his mouth, no arrogant smirk, no flirty wink, and no charming look out of those beautiful maroon eyes. Your usually so arrogant and tough bad boy is scared shitless.

For the last few minutes, he has been playing with his tongue-piercing continuously, driving you almost insane with the constant noise of the metal barbell connecting with Sukuna's teeth. But you can't blame him. You are even more nervous than Sukuna.

You lean closer to the old couch table again, looking at the pregnancy test that's lying there, and your stomach twists painfully. There's a change now. A second line has appeared on the little test strip. You feel your heart drop.

The alarm on your phone goes off right at that moment, making you jump as you grab the test with shaky fingers. Holding the sheet with the instructions in the other hand, you read them feverishly as if you haven't already learned them by heart. As if you don't already know what the two lines mean!

Sukuna leans across the table, too,

"What does it say?"

But you only hear his voice muffled as if you are underwater. You stare at the two lines on the pregnancy test, feeling your head spin. Sukuna's large hand darts out and wraps around your trembling wrist, pulling your hand and the test towards him while repeating his question more urgently this time.

But you can't say anything and just throw the test in Sukuna's lap. He grabs it and stares at it, his maroon eyes going wide as comprehension dawns on his beautiful, tattooed face.

"Fuck."

That's all he says, and then he looks at you with wide eyes, shock and fear written all over his face. He looks younger somehow, like a scared little boy. His lips open, but no words come out. He closes them again and gulps hard.

And then Sukuna gets up from the couch and practically bolts from the small living room, walking so fast that he has reached the apartment door before you even realize what he's doing.

His large hand is already on the door handle, pushing it open when your mind finally catches up with what is going on, and you feel like tumbling into darkness.

Sukuna is going to run, isn't he? Of course, he's going to leave! Of course, a guy like him is only interested in having fun but no responsibility! Of course, he will always stay the bad boy who just likes to party and fuck and do whatever the hell he wants! And a pregnant girlfriend is the last thing he needs!

Your hands ball into fists. You're about to scream at him or cry or break down.

But before you can do any of that, Sukuna stops in the doorway.

He is standing there with his back to you, so tall that his hair is almost brushing against the doorframe. You watch him fumble ungracefully with his cigarettes in a way that is completely untypical for him, nearly dropping the pack and needing several tries to light a cigarette before he brings it to his lips with a shaky hand and takes a deep drag.

You let out a slow breath, slumping back against the couch.

He didn't leave.

Sukuna turns his head slowly to look at you over his broad shoulder. Suddenly, his eyes widen, and he bangs the door shut and quickly strides back to the small living area, bending down to hastily stub his cigarette out in the ashtray on the couch table.

"Shit, I forgot that I shouldn't smoke when you are...," he stops mid-sentence, and his eyes wander to your belly, "when you are... ah fuck..."

Sukuna runs a trembling, tattooed hand through his pink hair. You both stare at each other for a long moment, both unable to say the words out loud. But your mind screams them at you:

Pregnant. You are pregnant with Sukuna's baby!

You have no idea how it even happened. Were Sukuna and you not careful enough? Maybe too horny and too drunk after one of the various parties you went to? Did a condom rip, and you didn't realize it? Maybe if it was any other month, things would have gone differently, but you had exams and were in a constant state of stress. You simply didn't have the mind to worry about anything else but studying and then fucking like bunnies for stress relief!

You feel so stupid. You were always so sure that something like this would never happen to you. An accidental pregnancy was something that only happened to those girls in those trashy reality TV shows!

Well, now look at you.

Pregnant from your college sweetheart, the bad boy with the face tattoos. The guy you are head over heels in love with but who you didn't even dare bring home to your parents yet because they took one look at a picture of the two of you, saw Sukuna's tattooed face and his pink hair, and deemed him a troublemaker who will only drag their sweet daughter into the gutter with him. And now he even managed to accidentally knock you up, and it will just be the cherry on top!

Finally, the tears spill over, and a sob escapes your trembling lips. Instinctively, you hug yourself, but your arms get pushed away just a second later, when Sukuna is pulling you to your feet and into his strong, tattooed arms, pulling you against him, holding you so tight you find it hard to breathe.

His lips press against your forehead, leaving little kisses and murmuring against your skin,

"I am sorry for almost running out that door like a fucking coward. I'm sorry, baby."

"It's ok, Kuna. You stopped and came back. That's what counts. But... I... I am so scared."

You sniffle and press yourself against Sukuna's tall, muscular body, seeking the comfort of his broad chest and his strong arms, which feel like home, letting your tears soak Sukuna's t-shirt that smells like him, like cigarette smoke and cherry blossoms and his typical sexy cologne.

Sukuna's arms tighten around you, and he makes a choked-up sound that you have never heard from him before. You feel him gulp hard, and then he speaks up in that low, velvety voice that sounds so much more serious than ever before,

"I promise I won't run. We're in this together. I got scared, too, because I am not the dad type of guy. I don't even have any idea how a dad is supposed to be because I've never had one. I mean, fuck! I am a mess! I don't even know what I want apart from living in the moment, having fun, being with you, and spending time with my brother. But you're my girl, and I'll be damned if I leave you alone with this! I won't run, princess, I promise."

You hear a strange noise, only to realize that it is coming from your own mouth, a strangled sob. You snuggle closer against Sukuna's chest, hiding your face in his t-shirt, clinging desperately to him, overwhelmed with the situation. But he is there for you. He rests his chin on top of your head and holds you, swaying you slightly from side to side.

His low voice is calm when he asks,

"Do you want to keep it?"

"I... I didn't even have the right mind to think about it yet."

Sukuna nods, and his arms tighten around you,

"It's ok. Take your time. If you want to get rid of it, then I will drive you to the hospital and take care of you afterward. And if you decide to have the baby... then I will be a dad. I never imagined myself with a kid, but this is different. This is our baby. And I know what it's like to grow up without parents. I don't want that for my child. My grandpa did a pretty good job with Yuuji and me before he became sick, but it's not the same as having a mom and a dad, I think. I won't let that happen to our kid."

You let out a shaky breath, feeling a huge weight leave your shoulders at Sukuna's reassurance. You can see things a bit clearer now. And maybe it's not as hopeless as you thought.

Technically, you are old enough to be a mom, and you could just pause your studies for a semester or two and then return to your classes. Of course, things won't be as carefree anymore, and you will have a huge responsibility. On top of that, you really have no idea what life with a baby will be like. But you know now that you won't be alone with it.

You will have the boy you love by your side. No, you correct yourself, not the boy you love, but the man you love. Because the way Sukuna reacted so maturely and responsibly showed you that he isn't a boy anymore. He is a man. Your man. And you are even beginning to be able to imagine him as a dad. He is doing a pretty decent job as Yuuji's brother, too, after all, isn't he? Sure, Yuuji is the same age as Sukuna, but Sukuna still always acts like the big brother. So protective and caring, in a grumpy way, but sweet nonetheless.

Suddenly, the thought of a miniature version of Sukuna running around doesn't seem so scary anymore. You catch yourself wondering what your baby would look like if you decide to have it. Will it have Sukuna's eyes?

You lift your head to look up at him, and Sukuna's gaze meets yours. He looks deeply into your eyes, almost making you nervous with how intense those beautiful maroon eyes look at you,

"If you want to keep it, I will make damn sure you and the kid have it good. I promise you, princess. I am not going to run like some loser. I will learn everything about taking care of a child and how to be a dad and get my shit together. I will even stop smoking. I just... I love you, and this will be our little family, and I will fucking protect it with my life! We will make this work. We can move in together. We can ask Yuuji to babysit, and I can take the little gremlin to classes with me. I had someone do that in my history class, you know? Had his ugly little brat in a baby carrier. I could do that, too. Only difference is that our baby will be super pretty, of course."

You chuckle softly despite the shock, a mix of a sob and a laugh, feeling lighter now that you know your boyfriend will be there for you.

"I love you too, Sukuna. Thank you."

"No need to thank me. We will get through this together, no matter what you decide."

You snuggle against Sukuna's tall, muscular body and smile shakily up at him, sure that your pupils must have transformed into little hearts from the way your chest feels as if it's overflowing with love for your boyfriend. Your arrogant, rude, bad boy of a boyfriend, who, deep down, is such a good guy for the people he loves.

You smile and get on your tiptoes to press a kiss to Sukuna's tattooed jaw, a tender lingering touch, before you tell him softly,

"Let's sleep over it for a night or two, and then we'll decide what to do. But either way, I want you to know that you sound like you would be an amazing dad. I guess having your baby would be quite nice."

You can see Sukuna's gaze soften, and then he smirks that attractive smirk at you and pulls you even closer against him, leaning down so his lips brush over yours when he says,

"Let's see if you will still say that when the little brat turns out to be anything like me. I wasn't an easy child."

And you laugh and reach up to ruffle Sukuna's pink hair affectionately, tangling your fingers in the soft, pink strands,

"Well, how lucky that I have you by my side to look after Sukuna Number 2 then."

You feel Sukuna grin against your lips, and then he kisses you, slow and tender, and you practically melt against him.

You are still nervous but not as scared anymore. Sukuna is right: You are going to do this together. No matter what, you have Sukuna by your side. And, even though he doesn't look like it, your bad boy is actually a good man.

And maybe your decision is already made because the mental image of Sukuna going to class with a baby carrier strapped to his broad chest just won't leave your mind anymore.

SIGHHHHHH I think I would want his baby 😭

Thank you so much for reading! I love the mess that CollegeBoy!Sukuna is. He is very dear to me 💗 I am so proud of him for being so mature about this!! A good man and a good soon-to-be daddy.

In my head, I was singing "Papa, don't preach" the whole time while writing this ;)

Comments and reblogs would be very sweet.

Update: Part 2 Option A (Reader has an abortion) Part 2 Option B (Reader decides to have the baby)

[maneskinwh0re]

sevika x brothelfemme!reader — “not your job”

cw: [n]sfw, dom!sevika, soft!sevika, mostly fluff :3

summary: thinking about having a long-term brothel contract with sevika. at the end of a particular booking when she has already made you cum like 3 times, she forgot to leave time for aftercare (actually forgot she was on a time limit, just lost inside you). so when she starts to apologize and frantically clean you up, you just kick her out SKDHAHDJA fic plot begins right afterwards…

∴.·:*¨¨*:·. ☙.·:*¨ ¨*:·.♡ .·:*¨ ¨*:·. ❧.·:*¨ ¨*:·.∴

“come on, i’ll walk you out,” you say as you smooth out your dampened lingerie and throw on a matching robe, shielding your figure from the cold as well as your client’s wandering grey eyes.

“that’s not in your job description,” sevika counters as she zips up the fly of her cargos. you step closer to button her pants as well as buckle her thick belt, a sentiment that means more to her than you know.

whenever sevika asks, you always imply that helping her get dressed is a favor in your contract (you both know it’s not) and then your defense is usually followed by a teasing remark about her missing left arm. in reality, you use the closeness as an excuse to continue the intimacy after sex, a further connection between you two, but the secret remains unspoken.

“you’re right, it’s not in my job description. and neither is changing the sheets, but looks like i’m doing that too since i’m too embarrassed to let poor harley do it.”

“isn’t that their job anyway?”

“can you just quit arguing with me and get your ass out?” you bicker with a laugh, knowing sevika is just stalling at this point.

“thought y’ liked my ass,” she smiles smugly and tilts her head as she looks down to you, her flesh hand teasingly trailing up your curves.

you were gonna really make her feel like shit about not leaving time for aftercare, you just like to rub it in. the two of you know it’s all jokes, and have had a bounded contract for a while now. sevika isn’t a regular for anyone else, and you’ve recently stopped seeing any other clients…

“ha ha. i like it when it’s obedient,” you purr with a giggle, giving her behind a soft swat. “let’s go— the laundry room ‘s at the end of the hall anyway.”

“hmph, alright fine,” she agrees with a pout that is so cute, it almost makes you forget about her dominant nature that made you scream and beg mere minutes ago… almost.

when you get to the door, your trusted head of security opens it for sevika, and only when her flesh hand leaves its place on your lower back did you realize the warmth that was there as you walked the dimly lit hallway. it’s the little things that keep you both so connected, even if you don’t think to control them consciously.

you lean against the doorway, one hand on your hip as you smile up at her. when she leans in for a goodbye kiss, you turn your head away.

“ah ah, y’ know you gotta pay for that,” you say with a smirk.

“i think i just did,” she replies with a quirked brow, a prideful smile revealing the little gap between her two front teeth.

you only stare at each other, a silent competition to see who yields first to give in for a kiss.

“i’ll see you tomorrow,” you finally break the silence with a sly smile and turn away to resume your shift.

“but i’m not booked for tomorrow…?” sevika thinks aloud, her eyebrows furrowing together as if her statement is a question.

you look back to her, your tongue running along the inside of your cheek and huffing as if trying to stifle a laugh. sevika staying away from you? yeah, right. like a moth to a flame.

“i will see you tomorrow, sevika.” you look up at her tall figure and place a hand on her chest to push her out the door.

in a quick motion, sevika shoves your hand to the side and pulls you in by the waist for a deep kiss. you reciprocate immediately— because how could you not? your hands grip her short hair and you feel the coldness of her labret piercing against your bottom lip. you can taste your earlier release on her tongue, recalling the lewd thoughts of when she-

“ahem.” the security guard’s lower pitched voice brings you back to the moment.

gasping for air, you push sevika off and wobbly move clear of the doorway. “alright, get outta here. before i call security.”

“oh, will you? i’m real scared,” she jokes, taking loopy, post-sex drunken steps down the stairs.

“i could kick your ass, sevika!” callum shouts into the cold night, then slams the heavy door shut before your patron could reply. you internally relish the sound of sevika’s deep laugh fading out on the other side of the metal entryway, indicating she’s finally walking home.

“thanks, cal,” you chuckle as you readjust your laced bralette.

“why don’t y’all do all ‘at off the clock?” callum turns to you, his tone is still light but with a tint of seriousness.

“what do you mean?”

“you know what i mean. that stupid smile will stick to your face the rest of y’r shift, hon. and it’s only ever there after your sevika is.”

you scold your coworker, waving him away before he notices your flushed expression. “oh my- s-shut the fuck up!”

‘your sevika’

…you could get used to the sound of that.

∴.·:*¨¨*:·. ☙.·:*¨ ¨*:·.♡ .·:*¨ ¨*:·. ❧.·:*¨ ¨*:·.∴

alexa play casual by chappell roan !

a/n: had the plot idea a few weeks ago, dropping this fluff and running back to hibernate bc kinda been going through it lately lol BUT WE DOING BETTER NOW TEAM DW found some inspo to write :3

harley and callum are two oc’s i might add to an ongoing fic bc i actually ended up kinda liking this :)

- 🐝

taglist: @audr3yyyyy @mirconreadzztuff22 @wizard-pdf @archangeldyke-all @nhaaauyen @inthebrainofalamb <3