#still not over it? certainly not forgotten about it
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People call Charles Edwinâs guard dog and Edwin thinks itâs going to offend him, getting more up in arms about it than Charles ever does. But it doesnât seem to bother Charles at all. And Edwin doesnât understand, not at first, not until Charles tells him, âSo what if they think Iâll bite if they lay a finger on you? Not exactly wrong, are they?â
Suddenly, it makes sense. Why Charles takes the comments in stride. Why he seems to take pride in the suggestion.
Charles feels like Edwin should have someone who is willing to do all that for him, go that far for himâand of course that someoneâll be Charles himself. Edwin reflects that heâd never had that sort of fervent devotion from anyone, certainly not when he was alive, and no one has come close since but Charles. He reflects on how good it feels to be fundamentally seen, valued in such a way.
Still, Edwin worriesâdoes Charles know that Edwin is just as dedicated to keeping him safe, his heart and his spectral body and his soul? That Charles is the most precious gift Edwin never dreamt to be given, andâ
Does Charles know that, every day? That heâs more than his teeth? That heâs more than everything Edwin could want? That heâs sweetness and light?
Itâs Charlesâ loving touch that Edwin yearns for and craves, when heâs laughing harder than he ever has, in the middle of the night when the rest of the world is asleep and itâs just him and Charles in the warmly-lit office, tipping against each other on the tiny sofa that never feels cramped when itâs keeping the two of them near. The actual joke goes forgotten in the self-replenishing haze of their giggles, their shoulders knocking together, Charlesâ ankle hooked around Edwinâs.
Edwinâs hand lands on Charlesâ jaw, barely-there fingertips turning Charlesâ head, easy, so easy, to look at him. To catch Charlesâ gaze, deep and shining andâtheyâre so close to each other, a bit heady with leftover mirth, and Edwin will never forget that itâs Charles who moves first to press his smiling lips to Edwinâs, simple as ever, like itâs the next line in their conversation.
It knocks the breath straight out of Edwin: the breath he hasnât needed in three-odd decades. But itâs all right because Charlesâ mouth is opening against his, so right and inviting, and Charles is gasping too like heâs in the same dizzy predicament, and Edwin never wants it to end.
âCharles,â he says, âCharles, my darling, are youâŚ?â
Charlesâ eyes are dark as ink when he pulls back, only far enough to nudge his nose against Edwinâs cheek.
âYeah,â he says, smile flashing bright like a slice of the moon. He closes his eyes, a flutter of lashes Edwin can feel against his own cheekbone, followed by the soft drag of a kiss. Then another. âShouldâve seen it, really,â Charles goes on, in between still more kisses, words said into Edwinâs skin. ââCause youâre it for me, Edwin, arenât you, love? I just didnât see. Iâm sorry I didnât tell you when you firstââ
âNever mind,â Edwin says, âtell me now,â and then theyâre kissing once more. The testing scrape of Charlesâ teeth over Edwinâs lower lip, the nibble on his upper, is tentative, too tentative, and Edwin ought to have known, he ought to have suspected⌠but still he doesnât, doesnât expect the keening, tremulous moan that tumbles out of him at the promise of it all.
Charles chuckles, the sound settling in Edwinâs belly, making a home in his chest. âYou like that?â he asks. Awed. Still hesitant. The laughter from earlier still layered in Charlesâ voice, along with a new sort of hoarseness, a new sort of rasp Edwin could listen to forever. âDonât wanna put you off, do I, loveâŚâ
âI will hardly be put off, Charles. In fact, Iââ Edwin swallows, convulsive and wanting, sees Charlesâ focus drop to his throat, find the soft underside of his jaw as he tips his chin up. âI would not have you hold back with me. Set your hands where you wish. Your mouthâwhere you wish. YourâŚâ It is his turn to close his eyes.
âMy teeth,â Charles finishes for him softly. âWherever IâŚ?â
âYes,â Edwin says. âYes.â
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Assen 2016: During warm-up, Marc Marquez takes a page from Valentino Rossi's book and cuts the final chicane.
#still not over it? certainly not forgotten about it#what do they say about imitation and flattery#i actually find it dead frustrating how little marc has been asked about assen specifically. ik valentino's stance and i get it but marc?#i'd be curious to know if he still thinks he was in the right there. how he feels about what he said in the presser and all that#not that he'd give you an honest answer if you asked him but somebody over the years could have at least given it a shot idk#kinda a dick move to dani too lol like why's he being dragged into this#idol tag#//#this was the race after catalunya mind you.... buddy let's not get too brave here#idk if valentino was really reacting to marc's gravel trap excursion but like the commentators i want to believe he was#this was one of the things i ended up cutting from the mind games post... a lot of valentino stuff i just threw out#like you just can't really get into it with these two because where do you even start with this#also this is where in the pre event presser they were joking about racing each other during the track familiarisation lap...?#marc's idea of reconciliation: still fucking with you but like. in a more friendly and only ever so slightly pointed manner#brr brr
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Rereading ITNL is so strange. Obviously I know I wrote it. I have the memories of it. But especially this stuff from before the end of May last year... back before the beginning of the Year Of Death...
I was a different person, then. And reading my words from back then... it really does feel like I'm reading a fic written by someone else. It's GOOD, I'm definitely invested, but. I hadn't realized just how much shit had knocked me out of the ITNL mindset. It's kind of concerning ngl.
#speculation nation#itnl shit#it should still be okay. just...#i dont actually known if i can finish writing the next chapter by the 13th.#bc im having to read it so much more thoroughly than i was expecting. ive forgotten a lot.#can you believe i forgot about chica the tomas???? im kicking myself over that one.#i know shes not in the story anymore so it wouldnt actually matter. but it matters to me.#idk. i'll just have to see how the weekend treats me. but it very well might end up being Late.#i just finished rereading chapter 5. i am certainly not nearly as far as id like to be for writing purposes.
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At this point it feels like Iâm not even back at square one. Itâs more like Iâm at the lowest point my life can possibly get.
#before I started uni my life was shit but I had one friend and the hope that uni life would make things better#it did#but unis over#now it feels like that one friend I did have has forgotten about me and hasnât got any time for me (which is fair but itâs sucks)#I only see my undergrad uni friends once a year (I love them still but I donât even get texts nowadays)#as for my postgrad friends I havenât heard from them at all - they barley even spoke to me at graduation#I also lost my long term boyfriend of 4 years which was great âď¸#so really back to square one on that front#but really Iâm even lower than square one#I donât have the hope of going back to uni because Iâll never be able to afford a PhD#as for a job it really feels all sorts of hopeless - Iâve had a couple of interview at this point but I doubt Iâll get the jobs and at this#point it seems really hopeless applying to most places because every job I apply to has 100+ applicants and even if I have the exact#experience required I get overlooked#then this whole thing with my sister - weâve always had a good relationship - Iâve always loved being with her - but she said I was a#harasser and that she felt like she was in an abusive relationship with me because I asked for her help with something#the help being something pretty insignificant overall - like few minutes of your time - check over something for me and help me download it#I just this has absolutely wrecked me - I canât believe she thinks of me that way as an abuser? because I asked for her help#I always help her in anyway I can - it feels like Iâm lying about this because how can she think Iâm abusive over such a small thing#I just donât think Iâll ever get over it#I donât think I can have the same relationship with her again. I canât ever ask for her help again. and I certainly donât want to help her#anymore if itâs just gonna be a one way street where I help her for hours on end but canât ask for her help without her viewing me as#an abuser of some kind#I just have no one but my parents now - Iâm so lucky to have parents that love and care about me#but I just want to cut off all my hair and runaway. I just want to be a different person because being myself has gotten me nothing & no one
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ăi hear you like magic? i've got a wand and a rabbit!
part one | part two
đ pairing: simon "ghost" riley x fem reader
đ tags: nsfw, size kink, virgin!reader, oral sex, vaginal sex, rough(?) sex, some mild second-hand embarrassment perhaps, sex toys, edging, failed masturbation attempts, ghost takes your virginity and also maybe ruins you for literally anybody else ever again
masterlist
reblogs are always enormously appreciated!
The ceiling over your head is drab grey and water-stained, the old paint peeling away in strips. Itâs an ugly sight, but you barely see it; youâre too busy trying to catch your breath.
The sheets beneath you are uncomfortably damp with your sweat, but you donât have the energy to roll over just yet. You feel hot and itchy with frustration, and you scowl up at the ceiling above you as your fingers curl into fists. But even though you feel like laying in your now grubby-bedding for the rest of the evening, you canât let yourself wallow. Thereâs going to be a knock on your door any minute, and this is not a position you want to be found in.
With an irritable groan, you haul yourself off the bed and to your feet. Your muscles ache and you feel too warm, but you reach for your clothes anyway. The worn cotton of your shirt feels scratchy against your skin, but maybe thatâs just because youâre still over-sensitive and irritable.
You can never quite bear to look at the aftermath of what youâd been doing, so you avert your eyes as you gather up the bright silicone and plastic devices littering your mattress. Itâs embarrassing now that the adrenaline has worn off and disappointment is beginning to set in, so you end up gathering them all up more roughly than necessary.
The term âtoyâ seems incongruous to you. It sounds too childish, too immature. It makes you sound like a stupid kid, as though you arenât a young adult past twenty fumbling your way through sexual self-exploration. Itâs embarrassing, and much more frustrating than you ever would have predicted â despite all of your clumsy, desperate attempts at pleasuring yourself, youâve never quite managed to reach that peak of pleasure youâve heard other people talking about.
You grumble quietly to yourself as you try to wipe away the sticky lube thatâs still coating your thighs. Your muscles are a little achy from all the tensing youâd been doing trying to come with that stupid vibrator, not even accompanied by the satisfaction you had been hoping for.
Itâs not as though youâve never gotten the opportunity to experiment with others; youâre not unforgivably ugly, you donât think you have a bad personality, and for the past few years youâve been surrounded by military men that certainly arenât known for being picky. And it certainly isnât like you havenât received your fair share of offers.Â
It just never seemed right. Youâre not overly concerned about âsavingâ your virginity or anything like that; itâs just that putting yourself into such a vulnerable position is scary. Youâre aware of the irony, of course, that youâd trust many of these people with saving your ass from catching a bullet in the field, but allowing someone to see you so intimately feels like a step too far.
Youâre still sweaty and flustered and naked when a knock sounds from your door, and you freeze. The doorknob turns, but doesnât open; in that moment, youâre deliriously grateful that you had turned the lock â itâs something that youâve forgotten to do on far too many occasions.
âLass, you in there?â Oh god, itâs Soap.Â
Cursing quietly to yourself, you jolt into action. Your pants are crumpled at the bottom of your bed where you had shed them, and you hurriedly gather them up and struggle your way back into them.
âGimme a minute!â You yell, praying he doesnât notice the somewhat frantic edge to your voice.
You stagger slightly as you worm your way into your pants, and then lunge to grab the stupid dildo youâd just been trying to use. You feel your skin prickle with humiliation as you try to force the stupidly large silicone cock into your already full underwear drawer, jamming it shut roughly to hide it from sight. You donât want to even imagine what Soap might have to say if he were to see what you had been doing; you think you might have to go full deserter mode and abscond into the wilderness.
âDid ye forget about drinks?â Soapâs drawl carries through the thickness of the door. He doesnât sound even slightly put out â if anything, he sounds a little amused.
You pause, close your eyes, sigh. Fuck. You had not, in fact, forgotten about drinks, you just thought you had more time.
âNo, Iâ just a minute!â You yell back, shoving your shoes on and trying to fix your hair.
You had completely lost track of time, and now you donât even have time to rinse your sweat-damp skin off â youâre going to have to sit through drinks with the squad all grimy, like a physical reminder of what you had been up to for the last two hours.
When you finally unlock the door and wrench it open, Soap is standing on the other side tapping a staccato rhythm on his thighs with his open palms. Heâs dressed casually in just blue jeans and a black muscle shirt, and he gives you a look of semi-disbelief.
âWhat the hell were youââ
âGym.â You interrupt, landing on the only explanation you can think of for your sweaty skin and messy hair.
Soap blinks, but apparently decides itâs not worth the effort to continue that line of conversation. He just shrugs, then turns and starts making his way down the hall, slowing his pace for you to catch up.
You exhale; Soap can be like a bloodhound when he suspects thereâs gossip to be had, and youâre relieved to have dodged a round of his relentless questioning. You suppose he can be surprisingly tactful sometimes, and he knows you well enough not to press you. Or, perhaps itâs because you come across as such a non-sexual being that it doesnât even occur to him that there may be another explanation.
Thereâs an unofficial tradition that when the squad is on base, everyone gathers in the sparsely decorated recreation room for drinks and card games on Thursday evenings. It usually makes for an enjoyable night; Gaz and Soap can always be trusted to supply whatever bottles of alcohol theyâve managed to get their grubby little hands on, and itâs always amusing to watch Captain Price get increasingly more irate as Soap pretends not to understand the rules of whatever card game theyâre playing. The whole illicitness of having contraband on base only makes the whole thing more exciting; the COâs on base often turn a blind eye to the activity, so long as itâs kept under control.
But tonight, youâre distracted.
The others had offered a bit of good-natured ribbing when you and Soap had turned up late, but before long youâre all settled in a loose circle on the poorly-stuffed couches in the corner of the room. Gaz has already unstoppered a bottle of bourbon, and is attempting to convince a visibly unimpressed Price to play a game of Kings with them. You curl up on one of the worn-out couches opposite them, watching with a small if slightly stiff smile.
The atmosphere is relaxed and pleasant, almost enough to make you forget about the irritating buzz of unfulfilled arousal under your skin. You shift, trying to keep your movements small, subtle, to avoid the notice of your team. Your denim jeans are nowhere near as comfortable as usual, and you wonder briefly if you should have simply worn your cargo pants just to avoid the harsh friction of the denim.
You sit there feeling⌠unmoored. You fidget, drink your smooth bourbon in sips in an attempt to avoid wincing, and try not to look as obviously out of place as you feel. Itâs been like this, recently. Joining the task force has been an accomplishment for you, a source of immense pride â youâre the youngest member (just narrowly beating Gaz for the title) and a woman to boot, and though the squad has never treated you any differently itâs hard to kick the belief that you have something to prove.Â
You engage in conversations the best you can, but youâre distracted and you know it must be obvious. Your preoccupation gets you a couple of furrowed brows and glances, but there seems to be an unspoken agreement to give you some space.
You donât even realise the extent of your distraction until a big body settles down on the loveseat next to you, and you jolt. True to his name, Ghost had appeared near silently, escaping your notice until he lowers himself down to sit next to you.
And damn, you forget how big he is sometimes. Itâs an average sized loveseat, but the lieutenant takes up over half of it. Heâs obviously being mindful not to consciously crush you, but heâs not being overly cautious when it comes to avoiding touching you. Heâs dressed unusually casually, and his thick, muscled thigh is wrapped in blue denim as it presses carelessly against yours.Â
âYou alright?â He asks, his voice low and smooth as he nudges your knee with one of his big knuckles.
You havenât been a member of the task force for long, but you would know Simon Riley by his hands alone, by the earthy salt-spice in your nose as he leans a little closer to peer at your face. You tilt your head up, unable to stop the small reflexive smile that breaks over your face at the sight of him.
âYeah.â You breathe, hurriedly straightening up where youâre sitting. âYeah, sorry. Just thinking.â
His sudden proximity isnât doing your current state any favours, and you take a quick sip of your drink in an effort to collect yourself. Itâs taking a herculean effort not to stare at the way his biceps are bulging against the straining material of his black cotton t-shirt.
âWhatâre you thinking about?â Ghost asks as he stretches out his legs with a tired groan. The sound is gruff and gravelly, and you feel blood rush uncomfortably to your cheeks.Â
âNothing.â You say quickly.
He doesnât believe you, that much is obvious, but Ghost never pushes and he rarely speaks more than he has to. He just gives you a glance, brief and knowing and far more penetrating than it should be, before turning his head back so he can watch the boys playing their card game. Heâs holding a crystal tumbler filled with dark amber liquid, but he hasnât yet pulled his mask up to drink from it.
Your eyes drop to the thick, pale scars that mar the backs of his hands. You trace the path of the scar tissue, eyes lingering around the thick knuckles and broad palms, the way that he holds the glass so casually confidently. Heâs got nice hands, probably made all the more attractive by the fact that you hardly ever get to see them. Seeing Ghost without his usual long sleeves and gloves makes you feel like a Victorian pervert snatching stolen glances at a passing ladyâs ankles.
A quiet snicker causes your eyes to dart back to his face, and youâre mortified to find that heâs caught you staring.
âWhatâs got you in such a mood?â He asks. Even through the mask you can tell that heâs smirking, though it doesnât feel as though heâs making fun of you.
âJust one of those days, I guess.â You say without meeting his eyes.
Itâs an evasion at best, but Ghost nods ponderously as though heâs giving this great thought. His stare is penetrating, those big brown eyes watching you as though he can see right through you. Maybe he can. You try not to get too caught up staring at his pale eyelashes, darkened by smears of eyeblack.
âDid something happen?â He asks. The question is casual enough, asked as he lazily swirls his whiskey around in his glass, but his gaze is sharp and assessing.
âNo.â You sigh, finally looking properly at him.
Itâs a little frustrating, but the squad has been like this with you from the start â protective. Your whole military career has consisted of you veritably clawing your way up through the ranks, and youâve been surrounded by coarse, gruff men that have underestimated you all your life. 141 is different â they donât baby you, but the way they treat you is unmistakably softer than how they typically treat each other. The concern can be touching, if a little tiring sometimes.
And maybe itâs because heâs your lieutenant, but Ghostâs attention has always been just this side of overwhelming. It feels like youâre pinned beneath his dark eyes, his gaze somehow sharpened as he watches you from beneath his more casual balaclava, the skull pattern printed on his jaw adding another layer of intimidation. But his shoulders are relaxed as he sits next to you on the small couch, settling the weight of his attention over you like a blanket.
Youâve always respected him, admired him. How could you not? Heâs practically a living legend, his reputation larger than life, and heâs scary as fuck. But heâs also softer than you had expected, gentle when he needs to be. He still rides you hard in training, pushing you to your limits and taking no quarter, but you canât begrudge that. Not when you know heâs working to keep you alive. Perhaps thatâs how the attraction had first bloomed; once it started, it was hard to stifle.
Ghost hooks one finger into his balaclava and pulls it up just high enough to expose his mouth, and he presses his glass to his lips to take a sip of his drink. You struggle not to stare like a moron, but he makes it so difficult. His lips are full and pink, and thereâs a rugged scar bisecting his top lip. His stubble is dark blond and short, and it doesnât hide the various scars and marks that decorate his strong jawline.Â
You almost jolt when he pulls the mask back down, hurriedly averting your eyes and forcing yourself to look out across the room. Itâs not just the 141 thatâs decided to take up in the rec room this evening; there are soldiers from other units littered all around the room, laughing and joking, playing lazy games of pool on the table in the corner and smoking. The smoke alarm has been jimmied off the ceiling and the window is open, and even Price is turning a temporary blind eye to the blatant disregard for regulations in favour of puffing on one of his cigars.Â
Ghost shifts on the worn-out fabric of the couch, and lays an arm over the back of the headrest behind you. Itâs a casual, thoughtless movement, but it ends up pushing his body slightly closer to you in a way that makes you feel as though youâre about to catch fire.
You cross your legs, but the seam of your jeans presses into your pussy in a way that sends a frisson of heat up your spine. You hurriedly uncross your legs, and attempt to school your expression into casual neutrality as you force yourself to tune back into the conversation.
ââach, câmon, Captain,â Soap is saying in a wheedling tone that he probably thinks is endearing. âOne round of strip poker wonât kill yaââ
âNo.â Price says in a voice like thunder, brooking no argument as thick cigar smoke pours from his nose. It gives the impression of an enraged bull.
Soap either is ignorant to the warning, or is choosing to wilfully ignore it. Judging by the sly gleam in his eyes, you can guess which. He turns to you then, and waggles his eyebrows.
âCâmon, lassie, youâll play, wonât ya?â He asks with a grin that promises trouble. âI guarantee youâll be a sight better than any oâ these louts.â
âSpeak for yourself,â Gaz pipes up, already grinning. âI was looking forward to seeing the Captain in his jocksââ
Price promptly knocks his drink back, before pushing himself up to his feet with a grim groan. âRight. Thatâs enough of you lot for one night.â
Gaz and Soap break into peals of laughter, settling back into their seats as they watch their captain march away.
âOfferâs still open, love,â Soap says, still snickering when he looks over to you. âWanna play?â
Ghost shifts, his wide thigh knocking into yours as his arm stretches behind your shoulders. He lets out a short exhale through his nose, but when you glance up at him you find him as stoic and hard to read as always.
You just roll your eyes. Itâs not the first time that theyâve tried to rope you into strip poker, and youâre sure it wonât be the last. You can always trust Soap to start stripping his clothes off when heâs three drinks in, whether heâs playing a game or not, so itâs not surprising that he tries to involve other people in his bad decision making.
And itâs not a big deal, really. Thereâs been countless missions and operations that have ended up with all of you staying in uncomfortably close quarters with each other. Youâve seen them naked countless times, and the same with them for you. Itâs never meant anything, and you know that Soapâs teasing is exactly that â you donât think theyâve ever once looked at you through any sexual lens at all.
But even still, the joke flusters you more than it should.
âThink Iâll be joining Cap in going to bed, actually.â You say, clearing your throat and setting your glass down on the low table in front of the couch.
The playful booing from Soap doesnât do much to change your mind, and you stick out your tongue at him and Gaz as you push yourself up from the couch. You try to ignore the loss of heat at your side when you move away from Ghost, though you canât help but glance back at the lieutenant. Heâs not looking at you, his gaze directed into his glass. You try not to feel disappointed about that.
You say your goodnights, and retreat from the rec room.
By the time you make it back to your dorm however, youâre already playing the conversation back over in your head and wondering if you had made the wrong decision.
Perhaps you should have just played the damn game. Despite your inexperience with all things sexual, youâre not actually all that shy about your body. On missions, you and the squad are often forced into tight quarters, and they've all seen you in various stages of undress before. It's hard to be self-conscious around a group of people that have seen you at your worst, whether thatâs soaked in blood, unshowered, sleep-deprived, or injured.
But you were so keyed up from your earlier failed attempts at masturbation that the thought of being so physically exposed in front of your squad is mortifying. It feels as though your unresolved arousal is still simmering through your veins, turning your thoughts slow and soupy and stupid.Â
Itâs not so surprising. Your preferred method of dealing with stress is coming back to your private bunk and messing around with your vibrator until youâve forgotten all of your problems. The problem is, youâve never quite been able to reach that climax youâve heard so many talk about.
Itâs not for lack of trying, and itâs not as though you havenât come close to that toe-curling finish you crave so much. But itâs like thereâs some sort of block, something that always holds you back before you can go plummeting over that edge. Something that makes the buzzing pleasure dissipate before your eyes like smoke, leaving you worked up and so frustrated. Itâs probably inevitable that all those ruined finishes have built up like sludge in your veins, leaving you slow and distracted and irritable.
You eye your underwear drawer thoughtfully as you perch on your bed, before reaching inside and drawing out the same dildo you had been using earlier. You wonder if it would be too much to try again tonight â the muscles in your calves still feel a little bit over-worked from training all day, and you have a feeling that straining in an attempt to reach an orgasm youâll likely never attain will only make it worse.
But the thought of Ghost in that stupid tight cotton shirt stays firmly stuck in your mind, and that really makes the decision for you. Before you can think too much about it, youâre sliding your jeans off and climbing atop your mattress. The sheets are dirty anyway, after all. May as well have some fun before you change them.
You slide your panties off next, then kick them to the side. Itâs difficult not to feel a little pathetic, but you push those feelings aside. So what if you have an embarrassing little crush on a superior officer? Itâs not like thatâs unusual within the military, and youâre quite certain that dealing with all that unresolved attraction like this is the most sensible thing you can do.
You fish out the bottle of lube you had been using earlier, and drizzle it liberally along the dildoâs length before setting it aside on the blanket. While youâve used your dildo plenty of times, you still struggle to grow accustomed to the stretch of it. Itâs a good dildo â a vibrating one in the rabbit style, designed to stimulate your g-spot and clit at the same time. It was damn expensive too, but itâs one luxury youâre willing to indulge in.
You close your eyes, slide it between your legs, and hit the power button. A low bzzz emanates from between your thighs; you jerk at the immediate barrage of pleasure, your abs tightening and your legs twitching apart, creating more room between them.
Your body is quick to react, sweat prickling under your armpits and your heart thudding quickly in your chest. You can feel electric pleasure coursing through you as you press it against your clit, your toes curling into your sheets.
You bring the vibrator lower, your clit throbbing a little at its sudden absence before you press it inside, sighing. It slips inside much too easily â youâre almost embarrassed by the easy slide. Youâre so wet, both from your failed attempt at masturbation earlier and from sitting beside Simon fucking Riley all evening. Itâs a deeper, subtler pleasure now, and you clench around it with a quiet moan.Â
You cycle through the vibratorâs different settings, making it buzz at odd intervals or lower intensities in your usual attempt to build up an orgasm. You wish, with sudden and mortifying clarity, that it could be replaced with a person. More specifically, a person with big hands and firm muscles that still have some soft give to them, and a toe-curlingly gravelly voice.
You squirm, shifting your hips to change the angle of the vibrator inside you. Without meaning to, you imagine Ghost. Itâs hard not to, considering your close proximity to him all evening. Your cheeks heat as you imagine Ghost actually being here, watching you all still and silent with that penetrating dark-eyed stare of his.Â
You huff out a breath, arching off your bed. This is always the best part. You have to ensure that you relish the build up, before it all fizzles out from between your fingers. You whimper, soft and quiet, clenching around the stiff silicone as it buzzes away inside of you.
Right as you press the soft little vibrating bunny ears to your clit, thereâs a knock on the door. Then, horrifically, like a scene from your fucking nightmares, your door opens.
âKid, youââ
Ghost is already half-way through the door when he lays eyes on you, and then he goes completely still in your doorway.
âFuck.â You hiss, scrambling to knock the stupid thing off.Â
You fumble for it, panicking. The end is slippery and you can barely manage to grip it. When you finally do, itâs difficult to pull out, your body still attempting to hold it inside. Itâs another agonising few seconds to turn it off, the vibrator unfortunately featuring one of those awfully thought-out designs that makes you have to cycle through every single one of the settings rather than hit an off-switch.
And then, finally, silence.
Ghost is living up to his name right now; heâs as stock still and silent as a dead man, stiff as a board as he stares unblinkingly at you. Youâre not even sure that heâs breathing, but you can see the whites of his eyes as he gapes at you, frozen.
You stare back at him blankly, hoping that your bed comes to life and swallows you whole just to put an end to your mortification.
At last, Ghost blinks, then finishes his sentence. âYou left your phone.â
He lifts his arm. In his large, thick fist, is your stupid goddamn phone. You must have left it on the couch when you had gotten up to leave. You might have wondered at the lieutenant voluntarily bringing it to your dorm for you, but youâre hit with a wave of humiliation so strong that it wipes your brain completely blank.
âAh.â You say, and your voice cracks. âThanks.â
Thereâs a moment of mortifying silence, and then Ghost steps into your room. Your heart jolts right up into the base of your throat as he closes your door behind him. The click of the door is as loud as a gunshot in the silence thatâs settled over the room.
Ghost still hasnât blinked. Heâs watching you with eyes that look almost black in the dim light of your room, intense as a predator.Â
âIââ You attempt to speak, and your throat clicks dryly. âI didnâtââ
Far too late, you realise that your legs are still splayed open. You snap them shut, inhaling a choked breath through your nose.
âI thought I locked the door.â You finish lamely.Â
Ghost apparently decides to simply disregard that, which youâre honestly a little grateful for. Instead he steps towards you â the enormous bulk of him feels as though heâs completely filling every bit of space in the room, sucking out all the damn oxygen.
â...âS this why you were so distracted this evening, hm?â He says as he approaches the bed. âYou were in a mood âcause you wanted to get back to playing with yourself?â
Itâs not a question, exactly. At least, itâs not phrased like one. Ghostâs tone is knowing, with an undertone of gruff amusement. Youâre certain that youâre not imagining the rough, breathless quality to his voice either, though the thought sends nerves fizzing through your bloodstream.
âNo.â You deny uselessy; itâs plainly obvious what you were doing, after all. âNo, I justââ
He doesnât wait for you to finish. His eyes are still glued to you, even though your thighs are now pressed together. Before you can stop him, he reaches down and takes a hold of your hot pink vibrator where you had been trying to hide it beneath your thigh.
âCute little thing.â He comments, tilting his head to look at the dildo hanging between his thick fingers.
Mortification burns through you. A panicked sort of screech escapes you and you yank it back out of Ghostâs stupid big hand, shoving it under the blankets.Â
Perhaps if it had been anyone else, your humiliation wouldnât be burning quite so intensely. But this is Ghost â your lieutenant, the gruff man that youâve looked up to ever since you joined the task force. Heâs not a man famed for his patience, nor for his eloquence, which is making this situation all the more unbearable.
âLt,â You wheeze, scrambling to sit up and cover your pussy with your hands as you squeeze your legs closed. âI swear I didnâtâ Iâm sorryââ
But Ghost doesnât seem interested in your apologies. Heâs still watching you as though he can see right through the damn blanket, as though heâs measuring you up and trying to come to a decision about something. In that moment, you hate your reaction to him â no matter how humiliating this situation is, you want him to approve of you, even now.
âDidnât mean to interrupt.â He grunts, and then he sits down on your bed.
You gape at him. It feels as though your brain has stalled; youâre pretty sure youâre not reacting correctly right now. You probably should have screamed when the lieutenant walked right into your room without knocking. That surely would have sent him straight back out again. And even now, you should probably be ordering him out, telling him to leave.Â
But you donât.
âI was.. um.. finished anyway.â You manage to croak out. You sound so pathetic that you nearly make yourself cringe.
Ghost doesnât answer immediately. He just watches you, his eyes as dark as ever beneath the mask. For a moment, you think heâs not going to answer at all.
But then he says, âDidnât look like you finished to me.â
Blood rushes to your face so quickly that it makes you light-headed as you catch his meaning. Oh, what the fuck. This is just adding salt to the wound now.
âI wasnât trying toââ You start, then cut yourself off. âThatâs not why I wasâ I was just trying to relax.â
In the ensuing silence, you realise how silly you sound. At the very least, Ghost doesnât laugh; he just tilts his head to the side, consideringly.
âLet me see.â
You gape at him. âIâ sirââ
âLet me see, sergeant.â
Itâs not an order. Not quite. Ghostâs voice is effortlessly assertive, but it falls just short of being a command. You have room to refuse. You could tell him to get out of your dorm right now, and heâd do it. Knowing the lieutenant, heâd never bring it up again, either.
You drop your knees apart, spreading your thighs in an unpracticed, self-conscious sort of motion.Â
Under the lieutenantâs sharp gaze, your skin prickles and your nerves strain. Even sitting down on your bed, heâs a veritable behemoth of broad shoulders and thick corded muscle. His hulking form towers over you even now, and you feel so damn small as you lay there propped up against your pillows in nothing but a t-shirt.
Ghost has seen you naked before, obviously. You canât afford to be prudish in the military, where you never know when youâll next have true privacy, and youâve changed out and showered with the squad countless times. Itâs never meant anything, and the men in 141 have never made you feel anything less than comfortable with them.
This, however, is different. This isnât just a case of catching a quick glimpse of your nude form as you shower in the group shower rooms when youâre out on missions â your whole damn pussy is out on display for him, still glistening wet and sticky from your ministrations and the lube youâd used.
Ghostâs inhale is as loud as a thunderclap. Youâve never felt so exposed, so vulnerable in another personâs presence. You feel a little ridiculous laying like this as he watches you, but another part of you feels so humiliatingly desperate for some kind of approval from your lieutenant.Â
At first, that approval is nowhere to be found. Ghost is notoriously difficult to read, and youâre beginning to sweat as you lay there waiting for a response â any response.
At last, he makes a noise. Itâs part grunt, part hum, and part groan.
âYouâre still wet, sergeant.â
Are you imagining it, or is his voice an octave deeper than usual?Â
Your eyes trace his face, trying to imagine what he looks like beneath the mask. You can see the suggestion of his nose, the square curve of his jaw. His darkened eyes are watching you so carefully that you feel as though youâre physically being pinned in place.
You swallow. âItâs justâ Iââ
âYou didnât get to finish.â Ghost interrupts, with the air of completing your sentence for you.Â
You try to speak, but nothing more than a strangled sort of murmur escapes. You swallow hastily, then try again.
âI wasnât going to. Sir.â You tack on the title at the end as an afterthought, but this whole situation is so far beyond professional that you probably neednât have bothered. âFinish, I mean. I⌠I never do.â
Youâve admitted it before you can really think about it, and then you regret it wildly. You canât help but wonder if youâve overstepped a boundary, but then again the boundaries are currently so blurred that theyâre virtually impossible to discern.
âYou never finish.â Ghost repeats it. Slowly, staring right at your face, as though heâs confirming what youâve just said.Â
It sounds so much worse in his deep, gravelly voice.
Embarrassment blooms, thick and sickly in your stomach. Your legs start to twitch closed, too embarrassed to be having this conversation with your cunt bared like this, but then Ghostâs big paw of a hand reaches out to settle over your knee, keeping you open and exposed. Itâs so rare to see his hands ungloved, and the bare skin of his callous-roughened hand feels almost scorching hot against your inner knee.
âI donâtâ Iâve tried,â You say, and you canât help but feel as though youâre just digging yourself further into a hole, here. âBut I donâtâ Iâm not able to. I mean, Iâve come close, Iâm just not able to⌠you know.â
You trail off lamely, feeling like the biggest fucking loser ever. Why are you telling him this? Why the fuck havenât you reacted properly, and kicked him the hell out of your room?
Deep down, a shameful little part of you already knows the answer to that. Youâre feeling awfully, sickeningly hopeful. Having Lieutenant Riley in your dorm, sitting on your bed and staring so hungrily at the wet, swollen parts between your legs feels like something out of your wildest wet dreams.
His eyes flick towards your pink silicone rabbit dildo, half-hidden under your blanket, and he grunts consideringly before reaching out and taking it into his hands again. Itâs standard-size, but it looks small in his big hands.
âYou ainât doinâ it right, then.â He says, so bluntly that you just blink at him. âShow me how you use it.â
For a brief, wild moment, you wonder if youâre experiencing visual and auditory hallucinations right now. Surely you canât really be experiencing this right now â and yet the lieutenant is still watching you, and youâve never disobeyed a direct order before.Â
He hands you the vibrator, then waits expectantly.
And⌠well. All you ever try to do is impress him.Â
You shuffle your legs open a little wider, ignoring the flustered heat that scalds your cheeks. Youâve never been all exposed like this in front of another person, and the weight of Ghostâs eyes on you is reminiscent of being under a spotlight.
You swear his eyes darken even further when you press the stiff silicone rabbit dildo to your cunt, if itâs even possible for that gaze to get darker beneath the thick balaclava and eyeblack smeared over the narrow strip of skin thatâs visible.
The dildo sinks in so easily that itâs almost embarrassing, and your breath catches both from the stretch and the way Ghost leans in a little closer to see. Far from turning you off, you feel your body throb in response to his proximity, and your cunt flutters pathetically around the plastic toy. You shift, attempting to get a little more comfortable, but you canât dispel the nerves fizzing in your blood as you attempt to push the dildo a little deeper under Ghostâs sharp gaze.
His big, hulking body is so perfectly still as he watches you that itâs making you a little nervous. The only reaction that you get from him is a small, considering hum, but even then you canât figure out what it means. Your movements are a little clumsy, so hyper-conscious that heâs watching every single thing you do that you end up fumbling a little. Heâs looking at you in the same way he assesses threats, his intense dark eyes examining every movement and reaction you make. It makes you feel small and jittery, especially when you realise that heâs judging you by what youâre doing.
âYou gonna turn it on?â He asks, and oh god his voice has definitely dropped lower and huskier. You know youâre not imagining it.Â
You canât even bring yourself to respond with words. You just make a strangled sort of sound of agreement, then clumsily hit the on button. The toy buzzes to life once more, and your toes curl absent-mindedly into the sheets as the soft silicone bunny ears pulse against your clit.
It feels nice, but you canât manage to concentrate on the feeling. Hyper-aware of Ghostâs attention, you let out a quiet moan as you shift the vibrator inside you. Itâs a little exaggerated, but you canât help it â you feel like you should be putting on some kind of a show.Â
You glance back at Ghostâs face, trying to guess what heâs thinking; even through the mask, you can tell that heâs frowning. You feel your stomach clench anxiously. Have you done something wrong?
âThis how you usually do it?â He asks.
You swallow thickly, feeling a bit stupid. âUm.. yeah.â
Ghost grunts. He doesnât sound impressed.
âNo wonder you canât come.â He says wryly.
You go still, eyes widening. In the silence, the bzzzzt! of your stupid vibrator is louder than ever. A sudden wave of shame washes over you, and you start to close your legs again in an effort to block the sight of the toy stuffed into your pussy.
âOh,â You snap sourly, your embarrassment making you irritable. âSo youâre the pussy expert now?â
That startles a loud bark of a laugh out of the lieutenant, a sound so rare that you find yourself desperately trying to commit it to memory.
âThink I might know a bit more than you, sweetheart.â He says. Heâs relaxed now, his wide shoulders rolling back. Heâs always so effortlessly confident, always so assured in himself and his abilities in a way that makes you feel like a silly little girl.Â
Judging by the way the corners of his eyes are just slightly wrinkled beneath the mask, Ghost is smirking at you. He finds this funny.
âWhat about when youâre with other people, hm?â He asks, and his eyes drop back down to try and get a look at you again. When he realises that your legs are clamped tight together, he reaches out to guide your thighs apart again. âNo oneâs ever impressed you?â
His hands are big and rough and hot, and your willpower crumbles like wet paper as you allow him to open your legs all over again. The vibrator is still buzzing sadly inside you, mostly forgotten about; the stimulation is nice, but itâs never been enough for you.
You huff a weak laugh. You should have known that this would come up, and now you find yourself floundering a little.
âNo oneâs ever tried.â The confession comes out like a whisper, like a secret.
You can see the moment Ghost understands; realisation settles heavy over him like a physical weight, and the whites of his eyes flash as they widen just slightly. For a moment, he says nothing at all. He doesnât move â it doesnât even look like he breathes.Â
âNo?â He says, except it doesnât really sound like a question. It sounds rough, and you can feel the almost convulsive motion of his fingers tightening around your knee.Â
You shake your head wordlessly, beyond embarrassed now.
Ghostâs wispy blond eyelashes flutter softly as his eyes dart down to your pussy, still humiliatingly stuffed with your stupid little vibrator. He takes a moment to stare, then looks back up to your face. Heâs so frustratingly confident about everything he does, not an ounce of shame in his posture even as you wilt beneath him.
âNever messed around with anybody?â
âNo.â You say, and it comes out on a wheeze. He holds your gaze without faltering, and you realise that heâs expecting you to elaborate. âNo, Iâ it just never happened. I was never⌠um, I was just always too busy, I guess.â
âToo fussy, more like.â He mutters, quiet enough that it seems like itâs a comment meant just for himself. You donât know how to take that, so you chew your lip and stay quiet.
His eyes drop down to the vibrating dildo again, and you recognise something that looks like a flash of hunger. It feels like thereâs pressure building up beneath your skin, tight and hot, and your thighs fall open a little further. You feel raw and so, so exposed, but you donât even care when Ghost is looking at you like that.
âLet me try.â He says, the words falling out sharp and harsh as though he theyâve burst out of his mouth before he can stop them. Itâs not like Ghost to speak without thinking it through, perfectly calculated, and your breath catches a little at the offer.
How could you ever say no to that? You donât really think that heâs going to succeed in making you come â at this point youâre pretty sure your body is a little bit broken and youâre just not capable of orgasming at all, and thatâs whatever â but the chance to get fucked by Ghost? To lose the lingering vestiges of your viriginity to your ridiculously hot, mysterious, massive lieutenant? Itâs like something out of a dream.
âOkay.â You choke out, nodding stupidly. âYeah.â
You want to be touched. You donât think youâve ever actually felt the yearning for physical contact this strongly in your life; youâre practically holding your breath as you wait for Ghost to make a move.
Finally, he reaches out. His first move is to pull the stupid little dildo out of you, still vibrating, and you feel yourself clench convulsively around nothing as he leaves you empty and wanting. He spares it a brief, evaluating glance, and you feel yourself burn as you realise heâs examining how youâve soaked the toy.
He tosses it to the side, barely even taking the time to switch it off first, then turns his attention back to you. Heâs got that same kind of laser-focus he usually only gets out on the field, and you take a moment to feel incredibly grateful that youâre never going to be on the receiving end of that terrifying scrutiny on the battlefield.
It feels like your skin is too tight for your body, every nerve and synapse strained and primed as you wait for him to touch you. But heâs slow about it, as though he just wants to torture you a little bit.Â
When he finally reaches out to lay his hands on you, he doesnât touch where you want him to.
His callous-roughened hands land on your hips, and pull you down the bed towards him. In the same move, he half-climbs up on the mattress, his huge form practically dwarfing you. Your head and shoulders are still cushioned by your pillows, but your legs are splayed open around Ghost where he kneels on your bed.
You glance down, unable to help yourself, unable to resist trying to catch a look at the outline of his erection pressing against his trousers, and oh. Fuck. Heâs big. You knew heâd be big, of course, heâs big all over, but Jesus Christ, maybe youâre a little out of your own depth hereâ
His thick fingers tangle in the hem of your t-shirt, stretching the fabric out. âTake this off.â
You scramble to do as he says, grabbing at your top and pulling it up clumsily. You realise a moment too late that youâre not wearing a bra, but you suppose at this point it hardly matters. You drop your shirt to the side, and try not to feel too horrifically self-conscious beneath the burning hot gaze of the lieutenant.
Though you canât see Ghostâs face, you can hear the soft exhale he blows out through his nose, just faintly muffled by the fabric of his mask. His eyes are trained on your chest, darting between each of your tits as though he canât decide which one to settle on. After a long moment, he reaches forward and cups your left tit with one of his enormous hands, thumbing absently at one of your nipples.
Itâs silly; Ghost has touched you before. Lots of times. A nudge of the elbow accompanied by a conspiratorial eye roll, a clap to the shoulder, rough hands pulling you to your feet after training or applying white-hot painful pressure to injuries. But this â youâve never been touched like this before, not by Ghost, not by anyone.
The shaky breath you let out as his big, rough thumb rolls over your firm nipple comes out as a strangled sort of moan that honestly startles you a little. The noise catches his attention, and he snorts.
âCanât be that sensitive.â He mutters, but then he reaches to thumb at your other nipple as though trying to be sure.
Itâs because youâve never been touched like this by another person before, you tell yourself. Truthfully, youâve never even touched yourself like this before. Youâve never bothered to play with your own tits; youâve always just gone straight to breaking out your vibrators. Now, with every brush of Ghostâs scarred fingers over the tight bud of your nipples, you think you must have been crazy to skip over this part of yourself. But then again, thereâs no way that your own hands on yourself would elicit the same sharp jolt that shoots from your breasts down your spine.
âSirââ You breathe, struggling not to squirm where youâre laying. You wonder, somewhat deliriously, if it might be rude to demand your lieutenant stuff his thick fingers into your pussy. You can already tell that theyâre going to feel so much better than your own.
Ghost glances up at you, his eyes unreadable as he watches you bite at your lip. God, his little wispy eyelashes are so blondâ
âWhat?â He says, his voice deep enough that you swear you can feel it rumbling through your bones. âSay it.â
âWant to try your fingers.â You breathe before you can second-guess yourself.Â
The laugh that rumbles out of Ghostâs chest is low and smoky. Itâs probably impossible to miss the way your eyes have been drawn to his hands all evening, so big and corded with veins and muscle and scar tissue. Youâve witnessed those hands crack bones and snap necks and break down doors, and yet you canât help but wonder desperately what theyâre going to feel like when he starts touching you properly.
He adjusts himself on the bed; heâs a big man, hulking and huge as he kneels on your mattress, his weight causing it to dip. His palms wrap around your ankles with ease, and he hauls you into place with a grim efficiency that goes straight to your pussy.
âBig brute.â You say, a little breathlessly.
He ignores you, using his arms to hold your legs open and wide for him. And all you can do is just lie there as he stares, because goddamn itâs like heâs been carved from steel and you canât break out of his grip. Not that you want to break out of his grip anyway, but youâd really appreciate it if he actually got moving instead of just staring.
âFuck,â He grunts after a moment, with the air of talking to himself. âBeen hiding this all this time, huh?â
âJesus.â You breathe in response, subconsciously letting your legs drop open even more.
He makes a low noise of appreciation, and finally reaches out to touch you properly. One thick thumb swipes through the seam of your cunt, and you feel the way heâs smearing the clear sticky wetness thatâs been leaking steadily out of you. With his now slick thumb, he drags up towards your clit and circles it with agonisingly light pressure.
You let out an embarrassing choked whine, your toes curling at the sensation. Somewhat ironically, Ghost is handling you far more gently than you usually touch yourself, and you find yourself flexing your hips in an attempt to get him to touch you with more pressure. He ignores your attempts, keeping his pace implacably steady and slow.
âDâyou always get this wet?â
You canât even tell if heâs asking you mockingly or if heâs being genuinely curious; it feels like every inch of your focus has narrowed down to the feel of his big thumb rolling those tight little circles around your clit, his touch scorching against you.
Itâs not exactly surprising that Ghost is good with his hands. Youâve seen the way he handles weaponry, locking and loading and aiming to fire with the kind of swiftness that comes from muscle memory, working with unwavering speed and precision. Heâs the same in hand-to-hand combat, moving with aggressive fluidity that overwhelms his opponents. Youâve caught hits from him before in training, and you know from experience that a punch from those big hands feels like getting hit by a cinder block.
But even knowing how deft and skilled his hands are, it knocks the breath out of you when he slides his middle and ring fingers inside of you, still rubbing steadily at the swollen bump of your clit.Â
When you exhale, it accidentally comes out as a moan. Your cheeks burn, but thereâs really no space in your brain right now for embarrassment to sink in. Two of Ghostâs fingers are the equivalent of at least three and a half of yours, and you feel yourself break out into an overwhelmed sweat when they twist and rub against the sensitive squishy spot in the front wall of your cunt.
Youâre so damn worked up, your arousal coiled like a knot in your lower belly from your failed attempts to get yourself off all day. Your back curves, humping yourself near mindlessly back up into his hand as he plays you like a goddamn instrument.
You barely even have time to consider how unfair it is that Ghost is so good at playing with you like this when he doesnât even have a pussy himself, because then he pulls his fingers out of you.
âOh, no, donât stopââ You start to protest breathlessly, your chest still heaving, but the quick glance the lieutenant sends you has you falling silent.
Ghost glances down at his fingers. Theyâre all glossy from fingering you, and he takes a moment to eye up the way they glisten in the dim light of your bunk. You might have felt self-conscious about it, if you couldnât see the unmistakable gleam of hungry interest in Ghostâs dark brown eyes.
He wipes his hand on the crease of your hip, but you donât even get the chance to protest before he reaches up to hook his fingers into his mask. You go still, holding your breath in surprise as he pulls the material up until it bunches up around the bridge of his nose.
And thatâsâ well. Youâve seen his jaw before, and his mouth (Jesus, you had seen it earlier that evening, when he had been sipping on his smooth whiskey of choice), but the sight of his strong jawline and blond stubble and corded scars on his pale skin always manages to knock the breath out of you. And this time, heâs rolled his mask up even further than before, revealing a nose thatâs clearly been broken at least once before.
You probably shouldnât stare so blatantly, especially knowing that Ghost always takes such pains to keep his face covered. Youâre not even sure if the other guys on the team have seen his uncovered face, except for Price, and you know that theyâve developed a habit of averting their eyes when he pulls his mask up for whatever reason. Itâs a habit that you never quite managed to develop yourself; youâre never able to stop yourself from gaping at him like a moron, drinking in all of the minutest details. Heâs never said a thing about your penchant for staring, so you can only hope that heâs chosen to ignore it.
Youâre so busy staring that it takes you by surprise when he grips your jaw with one massive hand and pulls you into a rough kiss.
The sound you make is small and startled, but itâs swallowed by Ghostâs demanding mouth. His lips are dry and a little chapped, but they feel scorching hot against yours. You reach up to grab at his arms â mostly just to ground yourself â but you find yourself almost immediately distracted by the firm bulge of his biceps beneath your hands.
Listen, youâve kissed people before, plenty times. Youâre in your early twenties, and just because youâre inexperienced sexually it doesnât mean that youâre inexperienced full stop. But this, right now, kissing with Ghost, makes you feel as though youâve been doing nothing but fumbling your way through all of those encounters, like youâve been kissing wrong all this time.
Itâs slow and deep, at first. All-consuming. It lights a fire in your gut, which expands and spreads throughout your body until you find your fingers grasping desperately at the short cotton sleeves of Ghostâs t-shirt where itâs stretched over his thickly muscled arm.
Ghost doesnât just kiss with his mouth, either. Itâs like a full-body experience with him; he puts his hands, his whole damn body into the kiss. He clutches you to him, holding you close even as the force of his kiss bends you backwards into the pillows beneath you. At the same time, itâs all you can do to concentrate and respond to the kiss itself, your attention stretched and strained by the feeling of Ghostâs hands running over you, stroking you sides and squeezing at your breasts and groping at the soft flesh of your hips and ass.Â
 âHah,â You gasp out when Ghostâs lips slide sideways to find the corner of your jaw. His mouth is hot against your skin, bruising, and you feel yourself grow embarrassingly wetter, just from a little kissing.
âYou good?â Ghost grunts into your throat as he nips at the base of your jaw.
âUh huh.â You manage to get out, still clutching at his meaty arms like theyâre a lifeline. âSo good.â
His breath is hot on your throat when he rumbles out a deep chuckle, and then his tongue flicks out against your earlobe. It makes you forget how to breathe for a second, and youâre distracted when Ghostâs hand changes course, easing beneath your legs so he can press his fingers against your clit again.
Then he pauses, and his fingers slide lower, lazily hooking back and inside you. You tremble, horny and humiliated as you realise that your arousal is glistening all over your damn thighs, impossible to miss.
âFuck,â Ghost mutters. âAll this for me, sweetheart?â
âHnng,â You whimper like an idiot as his fingers return to your clit, now slick and slippery. âIâm justââ
He doesnât wait for you to explain. Instead, he pulls his fingers out of you again and kisses you hard. The soft breathy noises you make are muffled into his mouth, and you wrap your legs around his waist automatically. Heâs built like a damn mountain, your thighs stretched wide to accommodate the bulk of him as he settles against the core of you.
He likes that â he presses in close, and you can feel the hard line of his cock pressing up against you through the roughness of his jeans. Youâre so sensitive that the coarseness of the fabric is almost unbearable, but youâre able to ignore it because youâre so distracted by the sensation of his erection because holy fucking shit that canât really be how big he is.
You gasp, the sound high and breathy, and you try to grind against Ghost, but itâs impossible because heâs so fucking heavy and heâs pinning you down on the mattress beneath him. Instead, all you can do is squeeze your legs and pull Ghost in even tighter, increasing the pressure between the two of you.
âIâm gonna ruin you,â Ghost whispers, and it sounds like a promise. He drags his lips up your throat, then talks against the corner of your mouth. âYou wonât be able to touch yourself again without wishing it was me.â
The wave of desire that rocks through you almost pulls you under, and you swear you might have actually gotten so horny that you blacked out for a second, because from one second to the next Ghost has somehow managed to muscle his way back down between your thighs so that heâs eye-level with your cunt.
âWhat are youââ You start to say, but then he loops his forearms under your knees to tug your legs wider, and you realise just how close his face is to your pussy. You swear youâre actually pulsing with arousal, and you wonder a little wildly if he can see that.
âOh, fuck, yes â please,â You blurt out, before Ghost has even gotten his mouth on you. He chuckles, low and amused. His grin looks predatory, but in this moment you really donât mind being the prey â not if it means youâll be devoured by that mouth.
Then Ghostâs mouth is against you, wet and burning hot. You cry out, barely noticing as Ghost throws one of your legs over his shoulders, spreading you open.
Itâs just the right side of overwhelming. Ghostâs mouth feels like itâs going to swallow you whole â his tongue is huge and flat and firm as he licks over your clit, making your thighs quake on either side of his head. Itâs entirely unlike any of the fumbling masturbatory attempts youâve ever made â you always enjoy messing around with your various little sex toys, but youâre swiftly beginning to realise that it could never compare to real human contact. Or at least, contact with Ghost.
His hands move from your waist to your asscheeks, his big palms squeezing the plump flesh there before using his grip to pull your body closer so that he can bury his whole face between your legs. The rougher material of his mask presses harshly into the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, but you hardly even notice it.
Your pussy has never been this wet before; it feels like youâve sprung a goddamn leak. You might have felt embarrassed about it if it werenât for the way Ghost groans against you, his wide tongue laving flat and rough against the seam of your cunt as he practically gulps down all the sticky arousal you have to give him.
âOh godâ fuck! SirâŚâ You sigh, spreading your knees farther apart so that Ghost can wedge his head further between your thighs.
Your ears burn as your room is filled with sounds of him tonguing at your cunt, the lewd wet squish of him working you over until youâre keening, your hips twitching clumsily until his hands tighten where heâs gripping the plump flesh of your ass to keep you still. Then all you can do is twitch as he licks over your clit in repetitive lapping motions, working in circles and then dipping down to shove his searingly hot tongue inside you. You can feel his teeth press against your labia even as he sucks at your clit, and the sensation sends hot bolts of pleasure rocketing down your spine.
Though you donât mean to, youâre pretty sure that you make his job harder. You canât stop wriggling, tossing your head back against your pillows and squirming on Ghostâs tongue in a wild overstimulated dance, like a fish caught in a net.
Finally, Ghost seems to have enough of your unco-ordinated flailing attempts to grind against his face. He reaches around your thigh with one arm to reach your clit so he can keep it stimulated as he gulps at the sticky sweetness of your cunt like a man possessed â the action also works to keep your hips pinned down and still. You stop your frantic moving, but your spasms and sounds increase tenfold.
You can hardly believe it, but you feel something coming. A sweet, torturous build up starts in your belly, and you sweat and gasp as he licks and suckles at you relentlessly. Youâve never found yourself in this state so quickly before, with your legs trembling and your breathing heavy and shaky.Â
âOh.. ohâŚâ You breathe, beginning to arch your back.
You know this feeling â this is where that sweet climax builds and builds, only to dissipate at the last agonisingly close moment. But this time, with Ghostâs big head between your thighs as his mouth moves against you, sucking, tasting, eating up everything you have to offer, the breath-taking pleasure doesnât show any sign of slipping out of reach. It feels like for once you might actually reach that peak.
But then, right as youâre certain that youâre about to tip over that long-awaited coveted release, the bastard pulls away.
âNo!â You practically shriek, attempting to sit up. âNo, I was so closeâ!â
âLie back.â Ghost orders, his voice like the crack of a whip.Â
You drop back obediently before you can even register that youâre moving, so conditioned to react instantly to that tone of voice coming from Ghostâs deep rumbling baritone. Your eyes are wide and betrayed as you stare at him, admittedly a little baleful.
God, but itâs hard to stay annoyed when heâs staring up at you from between your legs like that. His eyes are dark and hungry beneath the mask, and since itâs all pushed up and rumpled around his nose you get a toe-curlingly good look at his lower face. His chin is wet and smeared with your slick, and his lips are plump and pink and swollen from all the kissing and suckling heâs done to you. In a moment of near-delirium, you think that you understand now why he covers his face â his mouth is pretty in a way that shocks you, in a way that needs to be hidden for decencyâs sake.
âYouâre gettinâ greedy,â He grunts, turning his head and sinking his teeth into the crease of your thigh just to make you yelp. âWait for it, love. Itâll be worth the wait.â
You donât think you have much of a choice, so all you can do is lay back and hold on for the ride. He presses his mouth to you again, and you whimper softly as he tongues at your clit.Â
âNo oneâs ever eaten you out like this?â He asks, the words muffled into the damp curve of your thigh. Itâs stupid, because you know he knows the answer to that is a resounding no, but it seems like he just wants to hear you say it out loud.
âNo.â You say, your breaths sawing their way out of your chest.
âHnn.â He makes some kind of grunting sound against you, his tongue flicking out to taste you again. âThatâs why youâve been so tense, huh? So fuckinâ desperate for someone to touch you?â
âThatâs notâ âm not tense,â You manage to get out, your breasts heaving as your thighs tense up where theyâre thrown over his shoulders. âMaybe.. Maybe youâre too relaxed.â
Ghost huffs a hot little laugh at your hip because you both know that couldnât be further from the truth. You doubt anyone has ever accused Ghost of being too relaxed before, but you donât have time to feel stupid for it â not when Ghost is devoting the full force of his attention on you, deep breaths huffing against the wet skin of your pussy and making you shudder.
âThatâs it,â He croons, his voice uncharacteristically soft and lilting. The rumble of it ripples through your limbs like lapping waves, his battle-roughened palm stroking and smoothing down your ass and thigh as he hauls you closer. âRelax, sweetheart. Fuck, such a pretty pussy. Fuckinâ criminal of you to keep this hidden away all to yourself.â And then, quieter, âFuckinâ Christ, youâre wet.â
Youâre not even sure that heâs talking to you. It seems more as though heâs talking to himself, and it just happens to be you heâs talking about. Your cheeks burn as the feeling of vulnerability sets in, but you keep your legs spread wide as he kisses your clit with his swollen pink lips. You want so badly to be good, for him to be pleased with you, that you push past your embarrassment as best you can.
Thereâs a budding anxiety in your belly that Ghost is wasting his time here. As much as you crave his touch and the build up, you worry that heâs going to get frustrated with you and your inability to actually orgasm.
But Ghost doesnât seem to be in a rush. He seems perfectly fucking happy between your legs, and even with his mask all clumsily rucked up around his nose he presses his face into your pussy with his eyes heavy-lidded and hazy. Even when you shift a little in an effort to get him to go a little harder or faster, he just pins you still and continues at his own leisurely pace.
When he reintroduces his fingers, pressing inside and stretching you out with a light sting, you hiss and try to lift your hips again. His rough calloused knuckles brush against the inside of your soft inner thighs, making them quiver as he goes three fingers deep.
âShhh, atta girl.â He mumbles into you, his words coming out wetly muffled since he doesnât even both pulling his face back. âFuckinââ shit, so good.â
The praise shoots liquid and molten through you, and you have to bite back a pathetic keen as you pulse around his fingers. Youâre sure he must feel it, because he lets out an answering rumble and laps against your clit, then closes his lips and sucks.
âOh godââ
âShhh.â Ghost scoots forward so your knee can hoist over his shoulder. Then he angles his chin to kiss the skin on the inside curve of your knee as he pumps into you with slow, slippery fingers and ungodly squelching noises that only sparks you hotter. You canât even tell if itâs sweat or tears dotting your face anymore.
Though Ghostâs eyes are heavy-lidded and a little fogged over, he hasnât looked away from you once. The focused intensity of his gaze spears you through, because youâve never been looked at like that. No one has ever seen you like this, no one has ever put effort into you like this, no one has ever been so determined to please you before. You donât know how youâre ever going to recover from this; you have a terrifyingly distinct impression that heâs going to live up to his promise to ruin you for anyone else.
It feels as though your blood is boiling beneath your skin, and you nearly sob when Ghost pulls back. Youâve never been so close, and you want to scream when he takes his gorgeous fucking mouth away from your clit.
âFuck.â You wet your lips, realising you were panting like a dog and your mouth is bone dry. âFuck, Ghost, justââ
âQuiet, lovie.â His reply is hoarse and firm, his throat working hard to swallow as he peered down between you, his clever thumb delving slick circles over the taut bump of your clit, his other three fingers fucking with easy rhythm and purpose. Itâs maddening, itâs infuriating, it makes you feel as though youâre about to break apart.
His fingers are pulled out, and then you feel firm pressure pressing into you yet again. Your head lolls as you attempt to sit up, your eyelids fluttering as you realise that heâs pressing your stupid dildo into you again.
âOh, you bastardââ You start to complain, but Ghost doesnât give you the opportunity to speak properly.
The dildo slides into you so easily, your sticky slick mixing with his spit making the slide almost effortless. You sigh, a build-up of pressure making your whole body feel as though youâve been stretched out and pulled tight.Â
Now that youâve been pushed to the edge, you linger by it. Ghost keeps you on that edge for what feels like hours, until your breaths are burning in your chest and the ligaments in your calves are screaming from all the straining youâve been doing. Every roll of Ghostâs thumb over your clit sends sparks racing through your nerves, and your breathing is harsh and uneven as Ghost starts fucking you with the stupid vibrating dildo. The rhythm he sets is firm and unrelenting, pushing the silicone toy in and out and visibly relishing the wet squish of your cunt as it takes it deep.
Ghost huffs against the wet skin of your inner thigh, making you shudder. It seems like heâs enjoying this as much as you are, judging by the subtle roll of his hips against your mattress as he absorbs himself in fucking you with the dildo.Â
He experiments with the angle, adjusting the dildo until you cry out, jerking against the bedding, and whining âThere!â. You neednât bother telling him, though; Ghost has a sharp eye, and heâs so goddamn attentive. Heâs already repeating the stroke, pushing the dildo in and bumping it against the same sensitive spot he had hit before.
It feels good, but itâs not enough. Now that youâve felt the firm hot pressure of his fingers spreading you wide and the wet hunger of his mouth devouring you, you donât think anything else will do.
He shifts, you catch the rolls of his hips against your mattress again, and you feel as though youâve caught fire. You think of the glimpse you had caught of his hard cock, pressing against his jeans and making the fabric stretch taut, and you find yourself speaking without thinking.
Ghost pushes the dildo in once more, and you reach down to grab at his wrist as you ask breathlessly, âCan I try yours?â
He pauses; goes so still that itâs honestly uncanny, his eyes practically boring holes into you as he stares at your face. You grow flustered, your own eyes widening in response to your own words. Just because heâs deigning to touch you with his fingers and his mouth, doesnât mean heâs actually planning to fuck you. Jesus, heâs your fucking superior officer. What were you thinking?
âIâm sorry,â You squeak. âThat wasnât appropriate. Fuck, forget I said thatââ
Even beneath the mask, you can see the bob of Ghostâs Adam's apple as he swallows thickly.
âYou sure?â He interrupts your rambling before you can get started. âI donât... âm not good with virgins.â
Thereâs⌠thereâs so much you could say in response to that. Namely, he certainly doesnât seem like heâs bad with virgins, as evidenced by the throb of arousal still pulsing through your soaked cunt. Heâs just had you sobbing at the mercy of his fingers and mouth, and all he has to say when you ask for more is that heâs not good with virgins?
Instead, what you say is a rather lame, âIâm not technically a virgin.â
Which is true. Sort of. Based on a technicality â you had bullied your damn vibrator through your stupid hymen years ago, and youâve always thought the idea of virginity was a stupid one, anyway.Â
âPlastic cocks donât count, darlinâ.â
Blood rushes to your face so fast you feel light-headed as humiliation burns through you. Jesus, okay. Thatâs just mortifying.Â
âOh, you think your cock is special, then?â You scoff, attempting nonchalance.
Ghost shifts, letting your legs drop from his shoulders, and kneels up on the mattress so that heâs looming over you. Fuck, every time you get a visceral reminder of how big he is, you feel a little faint. Itâs like having a veritable wall of muscle caging you into your bed. Your thighs are spread wide to accommodate the size of him, and you find yourself absolutely captivated by the sight of him with his muscles straining against that stupid tight t-shirt, still panting lightly from his greedy gorging on your cunt.
He reaches out and drags a hand slowly from your cunt up over your belly, between your breasts, up over your sternum, to rest over your collarbones. Itâs gentle â he doesnât put an iota of pressure against your throat â but all you can fucking see is the swell of his bicep and the dark ink of his tattoo and the prominent veins running down the chiselled muscle of his forearm.
Good fucking lord.
âYouâll find out.â He says.
And oh. Okay then. Yeah, you sure fucking will.
He reaches down and unbuttons his jeans, and you canât help but strain to try and watch. He pushes them down carelessly around his thighs, but doesnât make any move to strip them off any further. Youâre suddenly aware of the fact that youâre laying on the bed completely nude and exposed, while Ghost has only pushed his jeans down far enough to pull his cock out, but you donât have any time to feel self-conscious about it.
His cock curves up against his belly, red and twitching. Heâs fucking rock hard, and bigger than you had been expecting, bigger than any of your stupid little toys. Your mouth goes dry, and your eyes widen comically. Fuck. No wonder heâs confident. Heâs not lacking in any way.
âDâyouâve a johnny?â He asks, one big paw of a hand taking his cock and stroking lazily at it until a bead of pearly precum oozes from the angry red head.
Youâre distracted for a moment, staring at the way he fists his cock, before you blink back to yourself. âWhat?â
âA condom.â He enunciates slowly, as though speaking to someone he thinks is a bit thick.
âI know what you meant,â You snap, embarrassed. âButâ no. Why would I? Iâve neverâŚâ
You can see the way his eyes crease and realise that heâs frowning beneath the mask, and youâre hit with a sudden bolt of panic â is he going to change his mind now? You can see the hesitation in the lines of his shoulders, but you think if he changes his mind about fucking you, you might just die.
âIt doesnât matter,â You blurt, âYou donât need one. Iâm on the pill. Iâm clean.â
Ghost cocks his head, but remains still. Itâs almost unnerving, and you feel your toes curl into the bedsheets as you wait for an answer. He looks fucking predatory, hulking over you like a fucking behemoth as he watches you assessingly. You try your best to look confident, but you have a feeling that you just look desperately hungry.
He reaches up and hooks his fingers into the fabric of his mask and pulls it back down to cover his still slick-shiny mouth and jaw, and youâre gripped with sudden overwhelming panic and dismay that heâs changed his mind, that heâs about to leave you here wet and empty and wanting. In that moment, you throw your dignity into the wind.
âPlease,â You beg pathetically, wriggling a little bit against your sweat-damp bedding in an effort to grind yourself against him. âPlease, please, itâs fine, I swear, you donât need oneââ
âFuckinâ hell.â Ghost grinds out, his voice rough and a little hoarse. âHow can a virgin be such a fuckinâ slut?â
Some part of you wonders if you should be offended by that, but instead a frisson of heat runs down your spine. You know youâre not a slut â youâve never searched for any sexual attention, and youâve never even experienced someone elseâs touch â but goddamn you want to be a slut for your lieutenant right now.
Despite his harsh words, when Ghost hooks your legs over his hips and aligns himself with you, heâs gentle. Heâs acting like youâre something fragile; heâs so big that your legs are spread wide around his waist, his shoulders so broad that heâs blocking out the dim light from your lamp, and yet his touch is light against you as though heâs afraid to break you.
Heâs still gripping his cock hard, and he slides the tip of it against your slick heat. You have a brief moment of alarm; even through the haze of arousal, you can recognise that this is going to be a tight fit. You breathe deeply, then begin to wiggle your hips in an effort to take him inside you.
He hisses, then one of his big hands grabs at your hip. âFuck, stay still.â
âPut it in.â You beg, your voice coming out thick and stupid-sounding. âFuck, please, câmon, câmonââ
âKid,â Ghost bites out through clenched teeth, his voice low and gritty. âNeed you to shut the fuck up for me.â
You manage to bite down on your lip, but you canât stop yourself from pouting mopily at him with wide, wet eyes. You donât understand why heâs making you wait â canât he see how mean heâs being? Youâre so fucking wet, so empty as you clench down on nothing, and your clit is so desperate for any kind of stimulation that itâs throbbing needily. The head of his cock catches at your opening, dipping in for a second before resuming its maddening slide up and down.
Ghost is still watching you closely, his brown eyes flickering from where the head of his cock drags through your sodden folds up to your pleading pouting expression. You can only imagine what kind of a sight you make, because his chest growls with a choked sort of groan.
âI know,â He murmurs, almost mockingly soft with you. âI know, you want it. Gotta give it to you slowly.â
You want to tell him that he doesnât have to give it to you slowly, that he can go as fast and hard as he wants to, but some sense of self-preservation shuts you up. Instead, you nod clumsily as he rubs his cock over the slick folds of your cunt, lubing himself up with your own arousal. The feeling of his cock dragging over you, iron hard and velvety soft, so close to where you want it, is enough to have your head spinning dizzily.
You want to beg again, but youâre still trying to follow his order to be silent. You shift restlessly, biting back a whimper when he taps his cock thoughtfully against your clit.
Finally, he decides to put you out of your misery.Â
The thick crown of his cock pushes against the tight ring of muscle at the entrance of your cunt, and the gasp you let out is positively punched out of you. He goes slow, just like he promised, but you can still hardly believe it. He goes in and in and in, and yet heâs somehow not even halfway inside.Â
âFuck,â You wheeze, punctuated by a strange little yowl. âOh god, waitââ
You feel stuffed just from the first few inches, drunk already on the quiet little grunts heâs making. The stretch and the sting and the pressure inside you is glorious, so tight that you can barely even flex around him and you canât even decide if itâs good or if itâs too much. Your eyes are hot and wet as overwhelmed tears begin to overflow, and you find yourself arching in a weak attempt to flex away from him and the devastating stretch.
God, heâs massive. You knew he would be, of course, but his size seems so much more significant when youâre being impaled on the end of his cock. Fuck, you can feel your vision go blurry as your eyes fill with overwhelmed tears. Youâre mortified when a sob is ripped from your chest, harsh and thick.
âShh, shh.â Ghost coos, his deep voice syrupy thick as he leans over you, the enormous bulk of him caging you into the mattress until your whole world consists only of him. âJust a little bit more.â
âFuck,â You choke out, trying to arch away again but failing because heâs so big that thereâs nowhere to go. âItâs not gonna fit!â
âShh, lovie,â He rumbles, ducking his face down so that the rough cotton of his mask is pressed against the sweaty skin of your neck. âRelaxân let me in.â
âIâ âm tryingââ You whine, clutching at his biceps. âJesusââ
You blink your eyes open, vision blurry from the tears clumping your lashes together, only to be met with the sight of Ghostâs deep brown eyes staring at you from beneath the black mask. Heâs looming above you, his gaze made all the more intense by the fact that itâs the only part of his face you can really see.
âAll that messinâ around with those plastic cocks, but youâre still this tight for me,â He says, his voice so deep that you feel it reverberate into your bones. âDeep breath.â
The breath you inhale at his instruction is rough and ragged, and he snorts a low breathless laugh in response.
When he finally drives his cock all the way in with one smooth stroke, all the breath is driven from your lungs. It feels as though his cock has been pressed all the way up into your chest, and the noise you make when you squirm on it is utterly pathetic.Â
Ghostâs hands are like steel clamps when they close around the plump flesh of your thighs, holding them up and pressing them back until theyâre pressed against your belly. He looms over you, still almost entirely clothed as sweat beads over his thickly muscled neck. Itâs like getting pinned down by a mountain, and you whimper as youâre speared open and prone by the weight of Ghost pressing down upon you.
He hasnât even started to move yet, but you still feel overfull and raw.
âToo big,â You mumble, struggling to catch your breath. You choke on a sob and feel your eyes burn with unshed tears as your back arches. âGhostâ!â
âShh.â He grunts. âCall me Simon when I fuck you.â
That⌠that does something to you. Molten heat rockets up your spine and pools in your belly, and you swear your pussy floods. Itâs stupid, how being granted permission to call your lieutenant by his first name is somehow so much hotter than anything else heâs done so far.
âSimon,â You try it out. It comes out a little shaky, your voice little more than a weak whisper, but you swear you can see his eyes sharpen.Â
Apparently having come to the decision that youâve adjusted enough, Ghost pulls his hips back only to drive back in.Â
âOh!â You yelp, hips jumping, but thereâs nowhere to go.Â
All you can do is lie there as he slides out, out, out, slow and careful and long, and then his hips snap forward and he impales you, pressing all the way into him. He does it again, and again, and you try to bite down on your tongue, try to not sound so pathetically wrecked, but you canât. Itâs like Ghost is puncturing your lungs and every time he fucks into you, you let out the most pathetic little mewling ah ah ah sounds.
Youâre not quite prepared for how different this feels; itâs nothing like your stupid plastic dildo. Ghostâs cock is bigger, but itâs also hotter and with more give than you expected, and youâve never been able to fuck yourself like this. Your plastic toys could never compare to the sensation of being pinned by your giant of a lieutenant as he ruts into you.
Ghost reaches up and roughly pushes his mask up so his mouth is exposed again before he leans in deeper, almost folding you cleanly in half, stretching in to claim your mouth in a kiss thatâs not quite a kiss, but rather a fierce mash of lips and tongue as his rhythm picks up, riding you down into the mattress until you realised the screaming noise isnât coming from either one of you, but the cheap standard issue bed frame.
All you can do is gasp with each deep, raw fuck. There are tears tracking lazily down your cheeks, having overflowed from your burning eyes, and you honestly think your lungs might collapse. Youâre bent like a fucking pretzel, in a way thatâs making the muscles in your thighs scream, as Ghost pounds into you.Â
Heâs fucking relentless, but also shockingly aware of you beneath him. He doesnât put too much pressure on you when he holds you, he never goes hard enough to hurt, and he knows just the right amount of weight to pin you down without being too much.
Your pussy is sloppy around him, wet squishing noises getting louder and louder as he finds more rhythm against your tight walls. Your whole world of awareness has been narrowed down to Ghost and Ghost only; his fingers digging into your thighs, your name in his mouth, his sweltering body pressing against yours.Â
Heâs holding back, you can tell by the way his voice is caught in his throat. Heâs keeping all his dangerous muscles at bay as he pulls out and presses in again. Rough, fast, but not enough to break you, just enough to make you scream until you bury your face to the side and try to cover your mouth with your arm.
âYeah, you needed this,â Ghost grunts, his uncovered mouth nipping at the hinge of your jaw. âThisâs why you were so fuckinâ distracted earlier, hm? You thinkinâ about how much you needed to cream around a real cock?â
âUh huh, yeah,â You slur out, not even sure what youâre agreeing with. Your tongue feels too big for your mouth, every nerve in your body raw and sparking. You must sound so pathetic, but Ghost seems to like it.
âAinât gonna be distracted anymore, are ya?â He rumbles, laving his tongue over your jaw in a way that feels filthy. âJust needed your little pussy filled, thatâs all.â
You cry out for him because you canât help it, delight bubbling in your throat every time he plunges into you. He keeps his pace for a bit, all rushed and blazing, transfixed on watching you suck him in, leaving slick trails along his shaft. But gradually he gets bolder, more desperate, big hands squeezing from your thighs to your hips.
You get lost in the feeling of him in your belly, searing and harsh, fat tip rolling against the spongy spot inside of you until you feel like you might snap. You feel him in your ears, your head pounding with every snap of his hips. You swear you even feel him in your toes, lightning zaps of pleasure down your nerves.
Then he leans back, lifting his weight off of you so you can breathe properly. He leaves his hand on your collarbones like a placeholder, his palm spread over the base of your throat like a reminder, a way to keep your attention on him.Â
âFuck,â He grits out, âThatâs it, doll.â
Youâre vaguely aware of the fact that Ghostâs gaze has shifted, no longer focused on your face but now instead fixed firmly between your legs as he watches the thick shaft of his cock sink into you. He obviously likes how you feel inside; you can hear him cursing and grunting quietly as his free hand grips your hip for leverage.Â
With his mask rumpled up around his nose, youâre gifted with an incredible view of the way his teeth are sunk into his lower lip. Each time he sinks his cock into you again, he makes a raspy little groan, eyes fluttering briefly shut. Itâs so painfully endearing that your heart quivers in your chest.
Your legs burn from being spread around his thick waist â any attempt for you to lock them around his back is useless, your legs slipping everytime his ass flexes with his thrusts. Every hasty drive of his hips has the ridge of his cock sliding against the spongy spread of your walls, making you feel more stuffed every time he ruts into you. With every sudden movement you feel the entirety of his fat cock; the veins are throbbing, skin heated and silken within you. Part of you marvels how youâre even able to fit him inside you.
âNever seen you look like this,â he grunts. âAll fucked-out and perfect.â
Ghost leans in again, grips your legs so he can rearrange them over his shoulders, and you think you might die. The angle is different and somehow, impossibly, Ghost is fucking into you even deeper. You think you might actually be crying. Thereâs no question as to whether youâre drooling.
Your hands move to his arms, nails sinking into the hard muscles of his triceps as you cling on for dear life. He doesnât even seem to notice the sting of your nails scratching him; or perhaps it only urges him on, because his movements take on an edge of desperation.
âGorgeous girl,â He grits out, jaw clenched. âSqueezinâ so tight. Fuck. Gonna make you cream.â
 You had forgotten about his promise to make you come, too lost in the hazy pleasure of his cock. But now it seems as though heâs been seized by the compulsion to fuck you to the edge; he reaches a hand down so that his thumb can join the fray, and it startles you into moaning breathlessly aloud.Â
His thumb is merciless against your clit. Youâre vulnerable to his touch, clit spread and on display from the stretch of his thick cock inside of you, and he takes full advantage. His fingers are thick and blistering hot as he rubs at you, and you choke as your toes curl.
âSimonââ You manage to eke out before you lose the weak thread of your thoughts, scattering into nothing as he stimulates the stiff bead of your clit.Â
He grunts to show that heâs heard you, but he doesnât seem any more capable of words than you are as he rocks into the cradle of your hips. Youâre practically blinded by your wet eyes, blinking frantically to try and clear your vision as you reach out clumsily to throw your arms around Ghostâs blisteringly hot neck.
It feels as though your skin is stretched too tight over your body, hot and prickly and too much. Youâre trembling, your breaths coming in shaky gasps as agonising pressure builds in your lower belly.Â
âFuck, love.â Ghost says, his voice little more than a snarl. âYou gonna come?â
No, You think hazily. No, you never come. But even as you think it, part of you recognises that itâs never felt like this before. Your stomach tightens, toes curling, your lungs burning, your eyes rolling. You hardly even know whatâs happening.
You recognise that something is building, but it almost seems secondary to the way that Ghost is rutting into you like a man possessed, hitting that spongey spot in the back of your pussy that youâve never managed to reach yourself and making your legs spasm every time even as his thick thumb rubs frantic circles around the bump of your clit.
âFuck, fuckââ You wheeze, bucking your hips against him.
It doesnât grow and dissipate in the way youâre used to. Rather, it creeps up on you almost without you noticing, until youâre whimpering and clinging to Ghost like heâs a lifeline. Your bottom lip trembles as you sob weakly, practically on the brink of diving into an oncoming tidal wave of desire. Then that coil in your stomach snaps like a rubber band, sudden and sharp as a slap to the face.Â
Your back arches, your vision whites out, and you cum so hard that the world stops, your ears ring, your body goes limp. Your cunts sucks tight around him, pulsing, feeling every inch of him. It feels so sweet, that white-hot buzzing pleasure rushing over you and wiping your brain completely clean.Â
Youâre a little delirious from being stuffed with such a fat cock; every thrust just prolongs your pleasure, like his penetration keeps you from squeezing your very first orgasm out right away. Itâs mindless ecstasy, your nails burrowing into the skin of his biceps as you desperately clutch at him for some kind of leverage. Ghost doesnât falter, his hips continuing to work into you, wringing your orgasm out until you feel as though your brain is melting.
You sob â an actual, genuine, wet-sounding sob as your chest heaves for air and your eyes burn with overwhelmed, rapturous tears. Your head is spinning even as your climax subsides, leaving you limp-limbed and weak as Ghost continues rocking into you.
âLook so lovely when you come, sweetheart,â Ghost grunts into your ear, his bulky chest weighing you down as you clutch feebly at his shoulders. âGod, thatâs a sight. All for me, yeah?â
His praise only makes it worse, makes your eyes sting until thereâs tears down your cheeks and stars behind your eyelids. He sounds so smug, but you canât deny that he has reason to be. Heâs the first man to ever touch you, first man to ever fuck you, the first person to ever tip you over the edge and wring an orgasm out of you. Fuck, you think your brain might have been reduced to mush permanently; you wonder wildly if youâll ever be the same after this.
Despite the sting of Ghostâs punishing thrusts into your already oversensitive cunt, your body sings for him. The rhythm of his hips is getting gradually sloppier, as though he doesnât care as much for precision now that heâs succeeded in making you come. Soft, guttural little grunts fall from his mouth, and his arms wrap around your waist to reposition you so that he can fuck quick and shallow. Itâs almost tender, as though heâs aware of your growing sensitivity as you mewl under him.
Thereâs a profound, instinctual pleasure in seeing Ghost lose himself in your embrace. His dark eyes are heavy-lidded and his mask is still all rucked up, revealing the way his mouth is lolled softly open as he pants. You find yourself wishing feverishly that he had taken off his clothes too, because you think you would give anything to watch the roiling muscles of his chest and shoulders as he ruts into you.
Then just when you think youâre beginning to recover from the shattering, mind-numbing oversensitivity, Ghost comes inside of you.
He stops rutting to ride out his orgasm, his cock throbbing, pulsing, spurting inside you until you feel fuller than youâve ever felt. And he comes a lot.Â
Youâre stuffed so tightly with his cock that his cum has nowhere to go, and ends up leaking thickly from where your cunt grips around him, messy and hot and spilling over your thighs and his. The sound he makes is breathless, all open-mouth and head lolled back as he groans, blissed out as he finds release in your cunt.Â
The minutes afterwards are a blur.Â
You close your eyes for what feels like only a second, but the next time you blink your eyes open you find yourself feeling miserably, uncomfortably empty and sticky as all that oozy cum leaks out of you. You somehow missed Ghost pulling out of you, and your thoughts are muzzy and embarrassingly slow.
For a moment, you think youâre alone. Youâre becoming more aware of yourself, and you realise that youâre shivering weakly alone in your sweat-damp sheets. Where did Ghost go? Part of you, still a little hazy, wonders if he had left you alone as soon as he had come, and you feel your lower lip tremble at the thought.Â
God, you feel pathetic. You shift feebly on the sheets, and suck in a sharp breath when you feel the ache inside you, proof that youâre going to feel the shadow of Ghostâs cock for days. You feel drunk off the afterglow, yet youâre swiftly becoming more and more aware of yourself and all the aches and pains that are coming to the fore now.
It feels like youâre too big for your body, and youâre clumsy when you try to sit up. Pushing yourself up makes a whole new set of aches light up, and you let out a quiet keening grumble.
Youâre so caught up with trying to ground yourself that you jolt in surprise when big, paw-like hands land on you, pushing you back down onto the bed. âShh, hey, lay down.â Ghost says, the rough edges of his accent softened. To your bewilderment, he has a damp cloth in his hand; he went to the bathroom, you realise hazily.
Maybe itâs just because you feel raw after your experience with him, pulsing like an open nerve, but you sniffle and blink and then suddenly there are tears dripping down your face.
âThought you left.â You mumble, trying not to sound like a needy little idiot.
Ghost glances up at you, unblinkingly. His mask is fixed firmly back in place, and he looks annoyingly put-together; itâs an embarrassingly stark contrast to the way youâre still nude and shivery and teary-eyed.
âNo.â He says simply.
The damp cloth is warm when it makes contact with your skin, and you relax as he drags it along your sweaty back and over your legs. Heâs a little rough about it, but you donât think itâs on purpose. Gentleness doesnât come naturally to Simon Riley, and yet you can feel that heâs trying and that makes a warm glow settle in your stomach, replacing the cold anxiety that had settled in when you thought that he had left you alone.
When the cloth reaches the tender skin of your pussy, you hiss and try to pull away. It all feels too sensitive, and you feel your face crumple up as he wipes away the mess of slick and cum between your thighs. He gentles his touch as much as he can, but you still mewl at the electric zaps of oversensitivity that jolt up your spine.
When Ghost pauses and pulls the cloth away from you, you blink your eyes awake. Your vision is still all wet and blurry from tears, but you can still see the shape of Ghost as he stares down at you. You can imagine you look nothing short of ruined right now, even after having been cleaned up, and Ghostâs stare is burning.
You wonder if heâs about to leave now â you can recognise this whole thing had gotten out of hand, and you just about manage to stifle the panic at the creeping realisation that youâve just fucked your superior officer. Ghost must have realised at this point that the two of you had just ripped through all those fraternisation rules, though itâs always been difficult to tell what heâs thinking. But you trust him â you have to, in your line of work. You have to trust that heâll handle things.
Ghost tosses aside the cloth, and his big overbearing body climbs back into bed beside you. Itâs a standard-issue bunk, and yet it feels comically tiny when Ghost has been added to the mix. Heâs surprisingly agile, even despite his big size, and you barely have time to realise that heâs joining you in bed before heâs wrapped a thick arm around your middle, hauling you closer.
Youâd love to act chill and cool about the fact that heâs now essentially cuddling you, but you miss the mark by a long mile. You take a breath, and allow yourself to relax into his big burly chest. Heâs still fully clothed, and the rough texture of his jeans against your tender bare skin makes you shiver lightly from oversensitivity.
Your hips are sore from being stretched so wide, your joints weak and watery, and youâre perfectly content to close your eyes and forcibly ignore all your concerns about fraternisation or how youâre going to face Ghost in training. Itâs a problem for another time.
âYou still alive?â Ghost grunts, and his palm coasts down over your back to settle at your ass, his fingers squeezing absent-mindedly into the soft flesh there.
He sounds amused, which makes you grumble in irritation. He takes up so much space, his big body filling up all the free space on the bed and making you feel so fucking small as he holds you so that your back is pressed against his stomach.
âI dunno,â You mumble, words a little garbled. âThink⌠think you might have fucked me stupid, Lt.â
Lying like this, with his front pressed against your back, you can feel his laugh rumble into you. Heâs touchy too in a way that surprises you; his hands are constantly moving, swiping over your sides and groping at any part of you thatâs squishy-soft.
âThink I might have,â He agrees, and you can hear the smirk in his voice even if you canât see it. âBut I think you needed it, sweetheart. You were practically cryinâ out for it all day.â
You feel your face heat at the insinuation that he had noticed the arousal you thought you had hidden so well. But you still feel so fuzzy inside, and you canât manage to drum up any genuine reaction.
Ghostâs roaming hand slips down between your legs, and you hold your breath as he reaches your swollen, tender pussy. His fingers are so big, but heâs aware of his strength and keeps his touch light, cupping rather than groping, his calloused palm catching on your puffy clit.
âTold you a real cock would be better,â He rumbles, and you feel the soft material of his mask rubbing against the back of your sweaty neck. âYouâve got a fussy little cunt â âs only gonna be satisfied by the real thing.â
Youâd love to jab back at him, but the feeling of him rough palm against your oversensitive clit has your thoughts fizzing out into nothingness. All you can do is let out a quiet little whimper, and rock your hips into his touch. To your utter bewilderment, you feel your arousal, which you had previously considered entirely sated, pulse back to life.
As if Ghost can feel your cunt throb beneath his hand, he snickers. âYeah. Fussy and greedy.â
He leans down, and you feel his lips brush against the back of your neck through the cotton of his balaclava. You quiver, and part your legs without conscious thought to give his thick fingers more room to work. Despite your exhaustion, and your soreness, and your sensitivity, you find yourself wanting. You wonder, with an edge of hysteria, if your body has somehow managed to rewire itself to only accept pleasure from your commanding officerâs hand.
âGhostâ Simonââ You breathe, your hips jumping as you grind into his palm.
âYeah,â He says again, as though he knows exactly what you need and want. âOne little orgasm wasnât enough, was it?â
âNo.â You choke out, throwing your head back so that itâs resting against Ghostâs broad chest. âNo, ât wasnât.â
You can hardly believe that your body is winding up for more, but Ghostâs touch is searing hot against your tender skin, and you can already taste the pleasure heâs going to bring you. This time, without the edge of urgency, you think you might even enjoy it more.
âGimme five minutes,â He drawls, his voice low and muffled in your ear. âAnd Iâll give you your second.â
#ahem... hello đĽşđđ#simon riley x reader#ghost x reader#cod smut#cod mw2 smut#simon ghost riley x reader#cod fic#simon riley smut
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so, your best friend accidentally sent you a video of her masturbating. what now?
18+ below! smut smut smut!
ellieâs bedroom is heavy with the scent of sex, her fingers still pruned from her own wetness. sheâs spent the last few minutes tense and panicked, too paralyzed with anxiety to get up and put some clothes on, and sheâs considering what sheâll change her name to and where sheâll move to start a new life when you finally, finally text her back.
itâs okay. give me a second to reply, alright?
the weight on her chest eases a bit at your reassurance, but a new spark of uncertainty flares up at the second part of the message: give me a second to reply. jaw tight, she sends you a question mark, then follows up with you donât have to respond. itâs probably better if you donât?? again iâm so fucking sorry.
but as the minutes tick by, slow and lazed, she starts to panic again. her mind conjures every possible response you could send her next: an angry thesis statement on why ellieâs a disgusting pervert, a seething comment about how stupid she must be for sending a video like that so carelessly. would you ever look at her the same way? would things ever be the same?
all it takes is another notification from you to make every imagined worst-case scenario evaporate. ellie clicks the notification as soon as it pops up, chewing on the soft flesh of her inner lip.
itâs a video.
you sent her a video.
she hits the play button without a second thought, heartbeat thudding in her ears.
âi know youâre probably embarrassed,â you say, head tilting as you frown with sympathy. a blush paints ellieâs cheeks bright red. âbut i need you to know how wet that made me.â
holding the camera up, you extend your arm outwards to reveal the rest of your body - your naked body, ellie realizes with a shock. she sits up in bed, back ramrod straight, her phone shaking as a nervous tremor strikes through her. but she canât look away - not when youâre tracing a hand down the soft curves of your body, fingertips grazing over one peaked nipple, then moving lower, lower. ellie swears sheâs forgotten how to breathe.
you release a pleased hum. âi liked watching you touch yourself,â you say, so matter-of-fact. âi hope you like watching me.â
and she does, god she does. she settles back down onto the mattress, eyes never leaving the screen as you work two fingers through your soaked folds. you moan and sigh and keen, rolling your hips down against your own hand, the wet sounds of your pussy so intoxicating, ellie canât believe sheâs gone her whole life without seeing you like this.
and it might be wrong, the way her own hand drifts between her legs to find herself still hot and wet, but she doesnât have it in herself to care. she dips a finger inside of herself as she watches you ride your own hand, grinding down on your palm as your fingers work in and out of your cunt. she finds a rhythm that matches your own; soon enough, youâre both gasping at the pleasure building beneath your waistline. with every roll of your hips, ellieâs cunt tightens, flooding with slickness - as if she could get any wetter.
as you get closer to the edge, your grip on your phone falters and the camera starts to shake. ellie hisses and curses under her breath when your phone captures the blissed-out look on your face: eyes rolled back, brows pulled together, teeth sinking into your lower lip.
âoh - oh my god,â you stutter, panting, âiâm gonna come, ellie.â
ellie. ellie ellie ellie.
âholy fuck.â ellieâs pussy clamps down around her fingers at the sound of her name on your lips; her thumb glides over her clit just right, and she didnât think sheâd come this fast but she does, her vision exploding into blinding white as her orgasm crashes into her. itâs the only time she looks away from the video on her screen - but she certainly hears your orgasm, all high-pitched moans and ragged breaths, your cunt gushing onto your fingers.
when ellie finds the strength to open her eyes again, the video is still playing. youâre catching your breath, chest shimmering with a thin layer of sweat. you look at the camera and smile. ellie thinks she might pass out.
âthanks for the video,â you say, lifting your free hand up to wave.
when you bring your fingers to your mouth and purse your lips around them, sucking them clean of your own come, ellieâs sure sheâs going to pass out.
and then, she decides, sheâs going to fuck you stupid.
#okay here u silly little dykes<3 enjoy!#ellie williams x reader#ellie williams smut#ellie x reader#ellie smut#ellie williams#ellie williams fanfic#ellie x reader smut#ellie williams fanfiction#ellie fanfic#ellie tlou2#ellie the last of us#ellie tlou#ellie x you#ellie x y/n#ellie x reader fic#ellie williams x y/n#ellie williams blurb#ellie williams drabble#ellie williams x you#my writing#kira writes
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OZZ OMG OMG OMG THAT YANDERE PRISON THING OMG OMG OMG
*jitters with excitement*
I NEED MORE AHHHHH IT TICKLED MY BRAIN THE RIGHT AND WRONG WAY AT THE SAME TIME
Like if you're nice they'll just become your dogs and if you're not nice they'll give you a very rough foursome I'm down for either OMG OMG OMG help I have problems
To quote Markiplier: "I'm not a masochist, this is about power"
*drops dead*
*instantly revives*
Ahem, I saw you mention you might come up with small plots, so I'll do the logical thing to try to inspire you:
- clueless darling ask the leaders about their gangs and whatnot. Like nonchalantly. Because they're too nice darling thought it's no big deal lol
- darling subconsciously avoid blonde man (even tho he is my favourite hahah) after seeing him beat up the guy
- darling got drunk (somehow in a prison) and either gets horny (and try to let it out under the blankets forgetting they got roommates)or innocently touchy hugging all three of them and poking their unique features, sitting in their laps and so on. Or better yet, touches/approaches other inmates in front of the roommates...
content: gender neutral reader, alcohol consumption, NSFW below the cut!
Inmates are creative. They will always find a way around the rules, and this time it happened to be a rather clumsy attempt at brewing alcohol. Had this been discovered by a guard, whoever concocted the beverage would've landed in detention.
Instead, it was you who found it, innocently assuming someone must've forgotten their water behind. You gulped down the clear liquid, thirsty after you walk, then promptly grimaced at its unexpected bitterness.
Safe to say you're now quite drunk.
That in itself would already be troublesome enough, but another thing is endangering yours and everyone else's peace: you're in a particularly flirty mood.
"What the hell are you doing?"
The officer's smile drops instantly, and he turns towards the deep voice. One of your criminal roommates glares at the sight with hollow eyes. You were clinging to the officer's arm, a dumb grin plastered on your face. The man in uniform quickly shoves you aside, his features pale and drained.
"It wasn't me who started it," he pleads.
You're quickly picked up by your bunkie, who is still staring at the guard. He won't be leaving this prison alive, that's for sure. Now, however, his priorities lie somewhere else.
The hallway spins as you're being carried away, and you shamelessly cling to your ride, feeling and groping the muscles and tracing along his tattooed skin.
"My God, at least wait until we're back to our cell," he groans with flushed cheeks.
The blonde one is trying to play it cool. Come, now, you're obviously out of it. He needs to be mature and tuck you in, or something along the line.
Easier said than done, especially with a raging boner. You're quick to notice it, and you certainly don't hesitate to point it out, making lewd gestures with your hands as some sort of offer.
"Are you sure you won't regret it tomorrow?"
"Hey now, I'm drunk, not unconscious," you bark between hiccups.
He may have interrogated you further, but the thought of your pretty little mouth struggling to take him in is too much to bear. He's essentially drooling by the time he pats his knee for you to come over.
The pierced one drops you on your bed with a flat expression. Annoyance? A closer look at his pursed lips, and one can tell he's really just struggling to maintain his composure.
"Please, I really need to-"
You hold him back by the arm and bat your eyelashes. In return, he clicks his tongue. Is this some sort of test from above? His beloved Darling is essentially begging to be fingered. Yet, he shouldn't be taking advantage of your state. He shouldn't...
Too late. You gasp at his rough fingers making their way in.
"Alright, don't be too loud," he concludes with a faint smirk.
The masked one gently places you on your bed, then plants himself before you with crossed arms.
"Nonsense. You're drunk."
"I mean it", you repeat yourself.
He does his best to look imposing. Truth be told, his knees weakened from the moment "fuck me" slipped out of your mouth. He gladly would, but he has morals. Well, when it comes to you, anyways.
Your pout seems to suggest this would be a long standoff. He sighs, then pushes you back onto the mattress.
"How about this? I'll take care of it," he explains quietly, his cloth hovering above your groin. "I'll be awaiting your offer again once you're sober."
For now, his tongue will have to do.
[Yandere Prison] | [More Yandere Stories]
#yandere prison#yandere#yandere x reader#yandere x darling#yandere imagines#yandere headcanons#yandere oc
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â
last chance; long live the inbox graveyard! âi pick a long forgotten request in my inbox and write a short blurb or musings
hot tub time machine lando norris x you âno warnings, just fluff "could we get a number 14 (pool/hot tub sex) with lando pleaseeee? so excited that youâre writing again!!" ârequested by anon on october 8th, 2024
âhappy birthday, sweetheart...â
âi really needed this," he sighed, "knowing i would be home with you for this was the only thing getting me through the last few of weeks.â
lando could feel every single ache and pain wash away as he slid into the hot tub, stomach full of the gorgeous italian spread youâd ordered for dinner. his favourite. he swore you were an angel sent to earth, everything you did for him was heavenly, he could never find the words to tell you how much he loved you.
âyou look so happy lan,â you smiled, dropping the kimono youâd worn during dinner as landoâs eyes cast across your body, luring you into the tub.
âiâm very happy - especially when i get to enjoy all of this⌠câmere pretty girl.â
a soft giggle slipped from your lips as you grasped his hand, "let me get a bottle of red wine for us to share and i'll join you â do you wanna open the one daniel gave you?"
"ooo, are we entering that portion of the night?" lando asked suggestively as you stood up, shooting him quizzical look.
"what do you mean?" you asked earning a loud laugh from the tub, water splashing a little as lando pulled himself up to the edge, smiling over at you with a look you knew all too well.
"as soon as you start on the red wine, you get so frisky," he stated as if it was a well-known fact, one that you certainly weren't aware of.
"i do not!" you staunchly defended, earning another loud scoff.
"oh, wow," lando laughed, "yes, you do baby and i'm not complaining so crack her open..." he teased as you carefully stepped into the tub, with lando's help of course, eyes still narrowed in annoyance.
"okay so maybe wine makes me a little more amorous than usual but i think i'm just like that when i drink, no?" you pouted, earning yourself a pity kiss from the birthday boy.
"red wine makes you horny and that's okay," he teased again with a cheeky smirk on his face as you handed him the stemmed glass, "ta."
"we'll see then, won't we," you tutted, pouring two glasses of wine while lando chuckled to himself.
"i already know what's gonna happen but sure," he baited with a wink as he slowly dunked his head under the water and emerged with a shake of his wild curls, sending water flying across the room and all over you.
"you are so sure of yourself tonight."
lando's eyes skimmed across your body briefly while you claw-clipped your hair up, not wanting the hassle of having to dry it before going to bed. secretly you knew where the night was headed, red wine or notâ it was his birthday after all, but you weren't about to admit that to the man hypnotised by your every move, jaw slack from the glorious view of your cleavage.
lando was a simple man.
"well, i am the birthday boy after all so i reserve the right to be cocky once a year, yeah?" he taunted from the other side of the tub.
"yeah, only once a year..." you rolled your eyes humorously.
the distance between the two of you seemed too far for lando, so he sculled the rest of his drink and carefully placed the glass on the floor before giving you a mischievous smile.
"steady on, party boy," you chuckled as he leaned forward and snaked an arm around your waist, pulling you into his warm hold.
"i just want to focus all of my attention on you," he whispered, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear that had fallen out of your clip, his emerald irises darted over your face, finally resting on yours.
"i missed you a lot, you know."
you took that as an invitation to straddle his lap and rest your elbows over his shoulders, wine glass dangling from your fingers. lando smoothed his hands down your back and and pressed fiery kisses across your chest. his lips travelled back up your neck, along your jaw before finding your soft lips in a slow, passionate kiss. you moved in sync with him, bringing one of your hands up to trawl through his wet, tangled curls. the chlorine always got the best of them.
lando hummed quietly into the kiss before pulling back slightly, "this is the best birthday i've ever had... and i couldn't be more in love with you," he confessed as you took the chance to admire the sweet boy you'd chosen to share your life with.
you grasped his face gently between your hands and pressed another soft kiss to his lips, making sure he knew just how much you loved him, no matter what life threw your way.
"i love you too, darling... happy birthday."
a/n â the first of the end of (f1) season sale!! this hot tub request actually wasn't forgotten, just half-baked so thank you anon for sparking up the inspiration to finally finish it! hope you enjoyed it đ
#lando norris#lando norris x reader#lando norris imagine#lando norris fluff#f1 x reader#f1 imagine#formula 1 imagine#f1 writing#monzamusings â¨#monzamashmasterlist#end of (f1) season sale!!
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â guard dog
kinktober 01 â dom/sub dynamics
sub!logan x dom mutant fem!reader
synopsis
Nobody would believe how his masculine bravado fell as he let you take control. They didnât notice how you could dismiss him with a nod of your head, how he would immediately back down from a fight if you told him to drop it. Like a dog with a bone. Thatâs the thing about Logan. He is protective like a guard dog is protective. And he is submissive like a guard dog is submissive. Oh, you so enjoy training him.
wordcount: 4k+ | crossposted to ao3
tags/warnings below the cut
tags/warnings: explicit (18+ mdni), dom/sub, light pain kink, light praise kink, porn with feelings, hurt/comfort, logan calls reader ma'am, reader wears a dress, pet names (incl. baby, pretty boy, kitty cat), degradation, oral sex (f. recieving), mutual mast., unprotected p i v, fingering, come eating, logan is compared to a guard dog (non-sexually), one (1) mention of collar play, no use of y/n. i'm sure i've forgotten something, please let me know if i have!
a/n: i have no excuse for this omfg. i'm a slut, ok!! and i am allergic to writing smut without including major feels what's up with that
thank you to the lovely @eupheme for looking over this before i posted!
You love seeing Logan like this. On his knees, eyes glazed over, beard drenched in your slick. Fingers tangled in his hair, hard grip pulling his head away from your cunt. You are bare beneath your dress, hiked up to your stomach, but Logan is completely naked. Looking down at him from where you sit on the edge of the bed, thighs spread wide. In complete control as he whines at the loss of his mouth on you, completely drunk on your taste. Candlelight and the Autumn twilight illuminating the planes of his face like liquid gold. Your core throbs where his tongue was just a moment ago.Â
You hush him, your free hand cupping his jaw. âYou miss my pussy, baby?â Your brows knit together in mock pity at the desperate sound he makes in affirmation. He grinds feebly at the side of your mattress, neglected cock aching for something, anything. Maybe it says something bad about you, that you get off on seeing him so pathetic. But you know he craves this too.Â
He was embarrassed about it, at first. Being submissive. Getting hard when you called him your sweet baby, your pretty boy, voice dripping with condescension. But you could tell that he needed to unwind the second he woke up after you dragged him into the X-mansion with Jean and Scott. You could feel it, the emotions pouring from him.Â
Your mutation is a difficult thing to control. To turn off. Sometimes, you feel like a creep. A trespasser. Knowing the deepest emotions of a stranger, ones they may not even recognize themselves. You think Jean and Charles are lucky, with powers rooted in thought. They can tease out feelings too, but their power is fundamentally different from yours. Thought is intention. Emotions are energy.Â
âYou canât force your retinas to stop sensing photons just because the light bulb does not know you can see it. Even if you close your eyes, my dear, you will still be able to see its light, however dimmed.â Charlesâ words from your first day at the mansion help to curb the guilt; when you feel like an intruder.Â
You certainly felt like an intruder months ago, when Logan woke up in the lab, lit aflame like a wildfire. Fear and rage, as he shot up from the table. Confusion, as he pulled the IV from his arm. Idiot. You tried to ground yourself in something tangible, anything, to keep yourself from feeling him. So much him. The buzz of the fluorescent bulbs. The vent blowing cool air against your skin. The weight of contact where your feet met the floor.
You taught mindfulness and meditation to the students and your teammates. Helped them to guard their emotions from people like you. For you, meditation was like closing your eyes. You could still sense those around you, it was just easier to tune out. Like hearing music through cotton in your ears. When others meditated, it was like switching off the light bulb. Leading students through exercises in your class was your favorite time of the day. Sweet silence enveloping you like an embrace from an old friend.Â
Later on that first day, when you introduced yourself to Logan properly, he grumbled, âStay out of my head, bub.â His frustration butted against you like a battering ram. And you stood against it, the feeling piercing your heart just a little. Powers standing tall as a wall of stone as you told him that it wasnât that simple. You wished they could have just crumbled. You couldnât help but feel guilt eat away at you like it always did. You wouldnât blame him if he hated you.Â
Over his first few weeks in the mansion, you taught him basic mindfulness in one-on-one sessions. He had trouble taking it seriously; thought it was silly. A bit out, âNo way thisâll work, bub,â as you led him through meditation in the training room, sat cross-legged on the mat across from him. You told him to close his eyes, to focus on the feeling of his breaths. âNow youâre just makinâ funâa me,â as you told him not to fight his emotions. After twenty minutes, you could still feel the anxiety gnawing at him. Just as bad as at the start of the session. When he opened his eyes again, his gaze met yoursâ bright hazel making your breath hitch. His fear and anger and self-loathing were banked for a moment, and you felt something else. Understanding. Desire. You werenât sure if it was his, or yours. Maybe both. He ended up in your bed that night.Â
Your first few times were pretty vanilla. Him on top, pounding into you, sweat from his brow falling against your cheek. After a month of him fucking you into the mattress at least three times a week, he was still tense as he took you. On edge, knowing he was unguarded from your mutation. It wasnât that the sex was bad. It was some of the best sex youâd ever had. But you could feel it, whether you wanted to or not. His anxiety. Curled up like a viper behind a bush, hiding just beneath his pleasure. Never fully letting go.Â
He didnât even hold it against you, anymore. Your mutation. Knew how it felt to be hated for something you couldnât control. Maybe thatâs what had drawn him to you in the first place.
But when your nails scraped down the side of his bicep, barely even hard enough to leave a mark, you felt the rumble of his moan, deep in your chest. Couldnât feel that viper anymore, lurking just below the surface. Like it was carried away in the beak of a hawk as you marked him. He begged.Â
âMore.âÂ
You shuddered. In control, after that. Flipping your position so he was on his back, body pliant beneath yours as you rode him. Your breath was hot against his ear when you leaned down, bare tits tender where they pressed against his chest, to whisper. âGonna let me take care of you, baby? Gonna let go?âÂ
Nobody would believe how his masculine bravado fell as he let you take control. From the outside, he seemed like the dominating personality in your relationshipâ undefined as it was. How his hand would reach in front of you protectively during missions, how he would bristle with a clenched fist if anybody talked a little too much shit during an exercise in the Danger Room. They didnât notice how you could dismiss him with a nod of your head, how he would immediately back down from a fight if you told him to drop it. Like a dog with a bone.Â
Thatâs the thing about Logan. He is protective like a guard dog is protective. And he is submissive like a guard dog is submissive. Oh, you so enjoy training him.Â
And much as you tried to teach him to meditate over months since he arrived, empty his mind more conventionally, it never quite worked for him. But when heâs beneath you, eyes glazed over as you bounce up and down on his cock, and you canât sense a single thing from his pretty little head? You know youâve done your job well. Given him what he needs.Â
âSuch a good boy, making me feel so nice,â you croon, in the moment again. He sat on the floor between your legs, eyes desperate and wanting when you thrust your hips up in the air just a little bit. Teasing him with the movement, more than yourself. Your hand is still tangled in his hair as he tries to lean forward to bury his face in your cunt again.Â
âStay,â your voice is hard, careful that you donât betray the fluttering in your belly at how badly he needs you. âI thought you were a good boy, but good boys follow orders.â You pout, mocking him.Â
ââM sorry, baby, just wanna make you feel good,â he pants, eyesÂ
glistening in the dim light of the waning sun. Golden leaves rustling just outside the window. âWanna make you come.âÂ
You smile, maybe a little meanly, your free hand squeezing his cheeks together. The other uses its grip in his hair to pull his head back farther, exposing the sweet column of his neck to your greedy eyes. He looks so pretty like this. If he hadnât been so naughty, you wouldâve told him as much. Instead, harsher words leave your lips.Â
âAlready so pussy drunk you forgot your rules, kitty cat?â You let your hand loosen its grip on his hair, the other still pressing into either cheek, forcing his gaze to yours. âYou will make me come when I let you, hm? Can you handle that, darling, or do we need to stop?â The pet name is saccharine sweet on your tongue, mock sympathy dripping from your voice.Â
âNo maâam,â he croaks outâ words muffled by your grip on his face. You finally let go, comforter plush against your skin as you lean back on your elbows. Nothing but the weight of your gaze keeps him frozen in place beneath you. You wait for him to continue, expectantly.Â
âDonât needâta stop,â he pants. âJust need you.âÂ
You love how the words fall from his lips. How he lets them. Tracing his jaw tenderly, the soft touch so at odds with the mean glint in your eye. So at odds with the swell of your heart, knowing he can let go with you.Â
âI know you do, baby.â Your thumb strokes his bottom lip, âNow ask nicely.âÂ
âPlease.â The way he begs has your core throbbing, the heat of your desire spreading down each limb like a flame. You almost give in. Almost.Â
But you canât have him getting spoiled.Â
He knows heâs fucked when one side of your mouth lifts in a cruel smirk. You lean down so your lips brush against his ear. âIâll let you lick my pussy clean after you fill it. If youâre good.âÂ
He whines; the sound a desperate thing.Â
âTouch yourself, baby,â you guide as you tease your fingers at your entrance. Soaked, from your slick and from Loganâs mouth. Your first finger slides in easily, as Loganâs hand grips at his cock. He sighs at the stimulation, the relief, though you know heâd rather his face be buried between your legs. His tip is flushed, weeping. He ruts into his fist as your finger begins to move within you. Already so slick that you make room for a second.Â
Sparks light up inside your belly, already sensitive from Loganâs work, but your touch is nothing compared to his. Your fingers are smaller, not reaching nearly as deep as his would, when you curl them. But you savor the controlâ as you fuck yourself on the bed and Logan touches himself on the floor. Almost feral for you.Â
Locks of hair pulled from their little tufts where you mussed them, falling in front of his eyes. A bead of sweat glistens on his brow, before sliding down his cheek. His lips part; the sounds of his desire falling from them. Sweeter than any melody.Â
And your mutation? Couldnât sense a damn thing. So blissed out that his mind went blank. Letting each sensation roll over his body like a wave against the sandy shore.Â
Thatâs the toughest part about this. Seeing him like this and maintaining your resolve, composure, control. To tease him instead of fucking him like an animal. And you willâ fuck him like an animal. He just has to work for it first.Â
You spread your legs a little wider, pumping your fingers in and out. Using your thumb to circle your clit. Teasing Logan with what you wouldnât let him taste. Yet. You draw out his little torture, watching you get yourself off, so close that your heady desire is all he can smell. Climbing closer and closer to the peak of your pleasure, eyes hooded as they meet Loganâs, letting the sounds of his panting fill the air until you finally come undone. Feeling terribly vulgar as your walls pulse around your fingers. Growing even slicker, then.Â
âStop now, little prince.âÂ
Logan stops moving like he is bound to your will. You smile. He doesnât even talk back when you call him little. Four hundred pounds of muscle and adamantium wrapped around your finger. You bring your hand, wet with your arousal, to meet his lips.Â
âOpen up.â
Logan lets his jaw slacken, his tongue jutting just above his lower lip to taste what you give him. You hum, as your fingers slide into his mouth and he hollows out his cheeks to suck. Your other hand moves to play with his hair, gentler now than it was before.Â
âSuch a good boy for me, arenât you?âÂ
You think that the noise Logan makes is in affirmation. Your fingers remain between his closed lips.Â
âGonna make you come now, baby.âÂ
Logan bites back a moan, glossy eyes wild with need.Â
Fingers slip loose with a slick pop as you guide him up to the bed. You finally let your dress pool on the floor around your feet. Logan sits back against the headboard, flushed cock at attention. You climb atop him, hard muscles so at odds with his lolling head and hooded eyes. Feeling his length press against your belly as you admire the view. Such a pretty thing, sprawled out on your bed, waiting for you with a leaking cock.Â
âSo needy. Need me to fuck you good, baby?â You ghost a touch across his sweat-slick forehead. âNeed me to fuck all the thoughts out of this pretty little head?âÂ
He nods. But no words escape his lips. You angle your head to the side, patient.Â
His voice is rough with desire as he croaks, âYes, maâam. Please.â
You feign confusion. âPlease what, sweetheart?âÂ
Swallowing his pride. âFuck me, baby. PleaseâÂ
You line up above him, palms resting on his toned chest, thick length prodding at your entrance.Â
âMmm, only because you asked so nicely.âÂ
You sink down on him in a quick, brutal thrust that steals your breathâ his cock brushing that perfect spot your fingers couldnât quite reach. Your mouth finds his neck, where your teeth nip and lips soothe. Inhaling his scentâ cigar smoke and whiskey mingle with the musk of his sweat. Undertones of cedar from his shampoo as vanilla wafts from your candles. Your hips remain still, his tip nearly brushing your cervix, savoring the slick, sweet stretch. Logan lets out something between a growl and a whimper when you clench your walls around him, teasing.Â
His desperation finally spurs you on, lighting a sweet fire in your core. Angling your hips up before sinking down again. And again. Slow, at first. You let yourself enjoy his thick length dragging along your walls, stimulating that spongy spot that makes you see stars.Â
âYâfill me up so good, baby.âÂ
Loganâs muscles tense beneath you, eyes squeezed shut as he fights the urge to move his hips. Aching to meet you as you slowly pump, to rut up into you hard and fast. You click your tongue in admonishment as his eyebrows knit together.Â
âEyes on me, sweet thing.âÂ
His lips move, searching for his words, but all that comes out is a garbled moan. His hazel gaze meets your own, brow heavy with the effort you know it takes to follow your rules. Your mutation still canât sense anything from him. The strain purely physical, as his mind floats through the bliss of your command. Your chest grows heavy with the trust that Logan has given to you so freely.Â
âSo good for me, Logan. So good,â you purr.Â
Finally, you pick up the pace. Raising up before gravity brings you back down, hard. Logan sucks in a harsh breath through his teeth, eyes rolling back in his head. Quickly darting them back to your face. Tender flesh gripping him to the hilt, before lifting yourself again. A few thrusts like that, as the impact of your ass on his hips fills the room. If it hurts at all, you know heâll savor it.Â
You think fucking like this might break another manâs hips. There are benefits to having a lover made of adamantium. You can play hard, and never break him. He always has his safe word, if it becomes too much.Â
Changing your pace again, more for your benefit than for Loganâs. One hand tangles in his hair, pulling. Your arm rests by his head, face hovering just above his. Each of his pants ghost across your lips. Thrusting quicker now, as you rock your hips up and down. Gaze locked on his. The sound of the leaves rustling against the window is drowned out by the bed frame squeaking.Â
His velvety length dragging against your sensitive walls brings you closer to the edge of your releaseâ his tip brushes right where you need it with each thrust as he splits you open. The burning tension coils tight, tight, tight in your belly; until you canât stand it anymore.Â
âLo, fuck, tâ touch me,â the command comes out breathier than you intended. But Logan obeys just the same. His hand moves between your bodies, fingers circling your swollen clit as expertly as your own.Â
Molten heat races through your body as you tumble over the edge. Waves of warm pleasure sweep you away, Loganâs palm resting against your tummy. You can feel your walls flutter around his cock, rolling your hips as you come down from your high, lips ghosting against his ear.Â
âCome for me, Logan.âÂ
He moves up to meet your thrusts, then. The pressure verges on overstimulation as his cock plunges deep inside. But you savor it, savor giving him exactly what he needs.Â
âThatâs it, baby. Thatâs it.âÂ
Your grip on his hair weakens to a caress as he spills inside you. You still your hips, letting Logan fuck you through his climax. Once he stops moving, your bodies go limp, enjoying this moment of closeness. The way his skin sticks to yours, damp with sweat. The sound of his heartbeat. The rise and fall of his chest. He lets out a contented sigh, and you finally roll off of him. You enjoy the softness of the mattress against your back for a moment. Propping yourself up on your elbows, you finally spread your legsâ making room for Logan to settle between them.Â
âCâmere, baby. You know Iâm not done with you yet.âÂ
Logan grins, wasting no time as he positions himself between your thighs. There is a mischievous little glint in his eye, face hovering above your cunt.Â
âFinally somethinâ to eat. Had me starvinâ down there, baby.â
Bratty little shit. You canât help the chuckle that escapes you then, rolling your eyes.Â
âYou talking back to me, bub?â You grab him by the chin, digging in your fingernails hard enough to leave little red crescents in his skin. But thereâs a smile on your face and mirth in your voice.Â
âNo maâam.â His chin angles down, looking up at you with hooded eyes. His smirk is devilish as he bats his eyelashes. Fucking bats his eyelashes. You donât think anybody would believe that the Wolverine packs a mean doe-eye.Â
Shaking your head in disbelief, the ghost of a smile on your lips, your hold keeps his greedy mouth just beyond his treasure.Â
âYou wanna rethink your tone, kitty cat?â Head angled, as you watch him through what you hope are stern eyes. You try to add a hard edge to your voice, but heâs so damn cute.Â
It seems to work. His smirk melts away, and only hunger remains, desperate and glossy-eyed. âYes maâam. âM sorry.âÂ
Victory is sweet on your tongue, at his concession. The heady weight of control in your palms. Electricity snakes down your spine, each pant of his breath teasing you between your thighs.Â
âThatâs it, baby. I forgive you.â You pout at him, mocking. Maybe youâre a sore winner. You canât help it when heâs so needy for a taste of himself on your pussy. âNow be a good boy and clean up your mess.âÂ
As soon as you loosen your grip on his chin, he buries himself between your legs. Stroking the flat of his tongue from your weepy slit to your swollen nub. Licking and sucking at your puffy folds, swallowing the mix of your slick and his milky spend like itâs the only meal heâs had in weeks. The squelch of him lapping at you and you moaning his name are all that fill your ears. You toy with the hair at the base of his neck, the roughness of his beard against your thighs making you shiver.Â
âF-fuckâ Lo, baby,â a lewd whimper escapes you, breath stuttering. âYou wanna make me come?âÂ
He somehow buries himself even deeper between your legs, then. Nose pressing against your clit just right, as he devours you. Fucking you with his tongue, before moving up to lick quick circles around the bundle of nerves.
âThatâs it, Loganâ fuck!âÂ
Words are lost to you, for a moment. Taken by the pleasure swelling in your belly as he slides a finger inside. Pressure builds in your abdomen when it curls against that sweet spot. You grind against him, eyes closed and mouth agape.Â
âKnow you can do it, baby,â you pant, spurring him on. Logan adds a second digit, bending to hit the spongy flesh. âSo good for me, soââ you are interrupted again, choking out a sob as your core tightens with your impending release.Â
Logan brings his lips to your slit, fingers still moving inside. His mouth falls open, ready to drink down your essence when the dam within you finally bursts. The pressure behind your navel gives way to warm wetness between your legs. You fall apart on Loganâs thick fingers, throbbing while he swallows the mix of your come and his.Â
His fingers slide out of you, suddenly empty, and the milky ring around them could be his spend or yours. Hopefully both. Bringing them to his mouth, before he licks them clean. He goes limp when you finally relax onto the bed, his head resting against your tummy. His legs must be hanging off the bed comically, but you canât bring yourself to lift your head and check. You choose to ignore the wet spot beneath your ass. The remnants of your climax and Loganâs inevitable drooling as he ate you out. Something to worry about later.Â
For now, your fingers find their way to Loganâs scalp once again, touch featherlight and tender. You canât help it when he sighs like that beneath your touch. If you had it your way, your hand would never leave its place here. Holding him to you, gently claiming him as yours.Â
Your mutation is quiet, still, in the afterglow. At peace. And so is Logan. Head still floating in the clouds, blissed out and dazed. Somewhere nobody can reach except the two of you. As much as he needs this, the way you give him respite even sleep never offers, you need it too. The silence, after. As you lay with him, in tenderness.Â
Youâre struck with a sudden truth. Not sure how youâd overlooked it, all this time. A low whisper, as the sun finally rests beneath the horizon. Flickering candlelight and the faint fluorescent glow creeping beneath the bedroom door. The aged wood all that separates your little world from the rest of the mansion. If you werenât so focused on that strange heaviness in your chest, you would have the presence of mind to hope nobody heard the two of you.Â
âI love you, Lo.âÂ
Breath held in your lungs, as you wait. Just a beat, before he answers.Â
âLove you too.â His palm rests on your waist, rubbing tender circles. His face nuzzles a little closer into your belly. âMy baby. My girl.âÂ
The stinging behind your eyes catches you off guard. But, so do his words. You feel the truth in them. You never thought youâd have this with someone. Never thought anybody would trust you. An interloper. An unwelcome visitor, eavesdropping on the devotion of strangers, destined to feel their love for each other. But never for you. It was never going to be for you.Â
But you feel it, now. Yours. Unsure why it hadnât cross your mind before.Â
Like a wolf, when you met. Wild, feral. Lashing out to bite any hand that got too close. Tamed, with your compassion. Firm as it was. You always thought he was like a guard dog. Faithful. Trusting. Once youâd earned it. Of course he would love you like one.Â
You felt heat creep up your ears, at the thought of getting him a collar, stifling a laugh in the crook of your elbow.Â
His hum vibrates against your torso.Â
âYou alright?âÂ
âYeah, baby. Think I just need some psychological help.â The words are muffled against your arm.Â
Logan is still packing plenty of sass, even in his fucked out state.
âThatâa surprise?â He looks up at you, a single eyebrow arched. You canât help but laugh. Smiling, as you rebuke.Â
âAsshole.â
a/n: aaah thank you for reading!! i'm nervous about this one, if you liked it please let me know!! đŤŁ
dividers by saradika-graphics
#logan howlett x reader#logan x reader#wolverine x reader#logan howlett x you#wolverine x you#logan howlett smut#wolverine smut#logan howlett fanfiction#logan howlett imagine#my work#.5k#1k
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i love love love your work youâre so talented!! âšď¸ got me checking for updates everyday omg
can i pretty please request mean!logan x crybaby!overstimulated!reader who canât stop squirting lolll đ love u!!!
Pairing: Logan Howlett x Reader
contents/warnings: smut, minors dni. mean!logan, crybaby!reader, squirting, oral sex (f receiving), don't like don't read.
You can't quite figure out what's different about this time than the others. Logan is always good at what he does, but maybe it's because this time he hasn't shaved for a few days, leaving his lower face covered in a thick layer of rough stubble. Maybe it's because you'd had a dream about Logan last night that had you waking up in a sweat, pussy throbbing and stomach clenching. Maybe it's because you'd spent all day thinking about it, remembering the way it had felt, the things you'd seen, the way it had driven you so close to the edge of an orgasm even in your sleep with no contact. You really, truly needed Logan today, and now that he's feasting between your thighs you feel yourself coming to a climax that you fear the intensity of.
You've cum hard before, but never like this. It's a full-body experience, white hot tension spreading outwards through your limbs like a live wire sparking and burning anything it can reach. It's all-encompassing like the way Logan's hefty muscle envelops you so easily, and your fingers dig what you're sure are painful, crescent-shaped marks in Logan's scalp as you latch onto him and tug him closer.
You realize halfway through your climax that there's something more happening- and for a half-second your heart stops as you think you're letting out more than you'd intended. But Logan groans, licking a long, languid stripe over your spasming cunt and pulling back to watch.
"Logan-" You gasp, mortified as he studies your pussy. His face is messy- more than usual, and you realize that you're squirting. You're still squirting, aided by Logan's fingers that replace his tongue as he stares hungrily at your release.
"Shit. You're like a fuckin' fountain. That good, huh?"
"Aah!" You cry as Logan's long finger bottoms out in your cunt, still sensitive but uncontrollably gushing impossible amounts of your release. He dips back down to lick at your pussy again, catching more in his mouth, and your body finally decides it's run dry, leaving you panting as Logan cleans your sensitive sex.
When he draws back you watch him scrub a hand over his beard, the short, stiff hairs mangled with a thick layer of your slick. He's always been a messy eater, but you certainly didn't help by squirting in his face.
"That was good." He notes gruffly, casual to the point where you're not sure if he's on the same page as you; he just watched you squirt, right? He's acting casual, save for a hunger in his eyes that lingers longer than usual, and you wonder if he's forgotten that your release had hit the back of his throat like his so often hits yours.
"I'm sorry." You feel the need to babble out an apology, still struck dumb from your own orgasm, "I- I didn't mean to- was that, is that- normal?"
Logan snorts, still staring at your puffy, sensitive pussy. He runs his already-sticky finger down its slit and you hiss from the overstimulation, wriggling away from his touch.
"Normal when you feel really good, sweetheart." He hums, dragging his hand up over your bare abdomen and leaving a glistening trail of your release there, "Now, clean off my hand- that's good, that's right." He hums, tucking his long, thick fingers into your mouth and letting you suck the slick off of them, "And when you're done with that, I'm gonna see how many more times I can get that pussy to squirt tonight."
#logan howlett x reader#logan howlett imagine#logan howlett fluff#logan howlett fanfiction#logan howlett smut#logan howlett x you#logan howlett blurb#logan howlett drabble#logan howlett oneshot#wolverine x reader#wolverine imagine#wolverine smut
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SMILE, YOU'RE ON CAMERA. | YUUTA OKKOTSU.
đ˛ ࣪ââĄđ â synopsis. when taking care of your university finances proves troublesome, the universe grants you your very own savior. but itâs gonna cost you.
đ˛ ࣪ââĄđ â cw. smut, college au!yuuta / bimbo reader (obvi), filming, lots of porn references⌠a lot, virginity loss, praise, oral n fingering, slight obsession, pussydrunk yuuta, unprotected love making, yuutaâs rich and unsettling. mdni <3
đ˛ ࣪ââĄđ â word count. 5.3k
đ˛ ࣪ââĄđ â dolled up! omg, yuuta? i meant to have this out a few weeks ago but got caught in a little writing slump :( nevertheless, hereâs to a new year and a new fic! yuutaâs been slowly creeping his way up my favs list , tehe !! as always, please reblog / comment if you enjoyed this , itâll fill me with joy. thank u âĄ
youâre a pornstar.
albeit, an amateur one with heaps to learn regarding the ruthless industry, but the weight still stands.
the details in which you came to the jarring conclusion were muddled with the convoluted steps that it took for you to get there, murky in your bubblegum-filled mind. all you knew was that yuuta okkotsu was a force, a gentle one, to be reckoned with.
it mustâve played out once you returned to your campus dorm beyond the dusk of midnight, under an unmitigating fatigue from the twelve hour waitressing shift just prior. through abhorrent patrons and the lack of a spendable paycheck, the excruciatingly long night barely made you enough money to even think about buying those dollish pumps youâve been yearning for. how cruel.
in between working and haphazardly handing your earnings over to university fees and textbooks, you just couldnât seem to make ends meet.
you would curse the day you took it upon yourself to branch away financially from your parents under the guise of growing up, since now itâd be a blessing to have even a cellphone bill paid off. whatever the issue seemed to be, lady luck was truly never bothered enough to be on your side.
fortunately for you, though, it was that same arduous night, you had been huddled against your stuffed animals in bed, mindlessly scrolling through the various social media apps on your phone; switching from sites like instagram and twitter to youtube then right back to instagram all over again, only to be met with an offer dusted in pink glitter that caught your eye as if it were made for you.
âstars needed â will pay upfront.â
it was a shoddy story post, one that could be clicked past and forgotten forever â yet, a brisk reminder of your situation in the form of borrowed, used textbooks with pages missing or vandalized, and todayâs horoscope that said to take risks; you did exactly that, aiming a swipe up that would ultimately rid you of the worries of yesterday.
there were no reasons as to why you couldnât be a star. certainly, you had the face for it, and you were told by multiple charmers that you were beyond beguiling to get anything you could ever ask for. what dismay could possibly unfold from contacting .. yuuta okkotsu .. about his offer?
hm, thatâs funny. the name rang familiarity as it seeded in your mind.
must be one of yuujiâs friends.
itadori yuuji, your best friend of three years now. out of all the time youâd spent together, you came to realize that he could get along with anyone, despite their true intentions. he spoke highly of his friends as well, which earned him a sacred spot in your heart that couldnât be replaced by anyone.
itadori had briefly mentioned in a ramen-fueled frenzy that one of his peers were âso insanely talentedâ and that youâd definitely get on with him. but when you asked for validity on that vague claim, all yuuji seemed to respond with was a mere âjust meet him, youâll see.â
from your recollection, the acquaintance he was boasting about, as if it was his own personal victory, was none other than your yuuta okkotsu. he was meek, stuck to a close-knit friend group consisting of maki and toge from your physics class, and the one time you ever spoke to him was to ask about yuujiâs whereabouts, to which he responded that he went back to his dorm after gojo-senseiâs lecture.
he seemed, normal. average, even. that surely had to be the case since your memory was hazy on his being otherwise.
it was true, though, yuuta was gifted. in a way that transcended words, skillful towards visual aesthetics, and careful with the craft. he would spend most of his freetime fumbling with a camera or recording the works of the mundane. overtly, heâd grown such a strong passion in the field of videography in hopes to capture the reality of humanity, the authenticity within intimacy â what could he possibly need a âstarâ for?
shadiness aside, you were in a tough spot, willing to do whatever to free yourself from the financial burden that was jujutsu technical university. with a swift swipe in tandem with the soft tapping of the pads of your thumbs on the keyboard, you were taking yuuta up on his offer.
within seconds, he responded back with his address and an appropriate meet-up date to start the project.
if only you were aware of how drastically your life would change from here on out.
a cluster of days had passed since you last got into contact with yuuta. he had told you to meet him at his place, claiming it would be more efficient than traveling to an unnamed destination with pounds of heavy photography equipment.
where you stood currently, was in front of the bare oak of his front door, hand wrapped in a loose fist as you knocked gently on the wood. a quick moment had passed by before you took initiative to raise your fist and knock once more. before your touch could meet the wood, a muffled âcoming!â chimed beyond the door. from what you had heard on the other side; the scuttling behind the door and jingle of the lock, yuuta had opened the door soon after.
with his hand rubbing away the goosebumps that stood at the back of his neck, he beamed. cordially, warmly.
âyouâre actually here. hi,â
upon first glance, yuuta had a distinct look. he stood tall, not tall enough to matter or incite intimidation, and although he wore a black button-up (a bit formal for an occasion as casual as today), his lean build shone through under the thin fabric, ripples of veins dancing up his forearms. what you couldnât miss, however, were the grey eyebags under his emotionless navy orbs, as if heâd forgone weeks of sleep.
yuuta okkotsu was unsettling.
âhi,â your voice sounded as a sweet croon, dulcet enough that you could barely hear it yourself as it escaped in a breathy breeze. his smile grew softer in response, that monotonous gaze in his eyes fizzling away into something of serenity. âcome in, please,â yuuta held the door open wider for you to tread past, caught up in observing the bunch of fabric that hugged tightly around your ass, then closed it gently behind you once you stepped completely inside. he silently cursed at himself for ogling â he truly didnât mean to stare. youâre just a lot prettier up close. âi was just getting set up. you can have a seat if youâd like.â
as youâd expect from any guy your age, his place wasnât much to gaze at, nor did it have much personality. in a corner to your right was a houseplant, that of the fern variety, and a few steps deeper into the abode was the living room, where yuuta resumed his fumbling with the transfiguration of his tripod.
you decided to sit on the couch across from him, taking in the bleak sight of his home. you would have almost believed it was unlived in had it not been for the scattered midterm review papers decorating his coffee table. it was obvious he had money from the endless rows of space that surrounded the two of you, although a candle or something would be nice.
he peered away from his tripod to look through the viewfinder of his camera, ensuring that the lens was functioning properly. he grew pleased to see the image of you distracted in fiddling with your thumbs reflected back at him. âare you nervous?â his gaze fell upon you through his own eyes, a concerned expression harboring his features.
you were pulled out of your muse of unfamiliarity to direct your attention to the sound of his mild voice, returning a smile to his that eased the worriment trapped behind dull, blue eyes. ân-not really, i donât think.â
his lips curled up once more at that, in fact there wasnât a time so far that you hadnât noticed him without his signature smile. âhere, let me help with that,â reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his phone, tapping away at the screen before ultimately turning it back off and settling it back into its place in his pocket.
your phone vibrated beside you, screen lighting up with a bold alert.
[YUUTA OKKOTSU SENT $1000]
before you had a chance to even process the significance of the notification, he started back up,
âi hope i got the right information, wouldnât want your hard work to get in the wrong hands.â the tilt of his head in tandem with a chuckle resonated sheepishly, and he returned to watch you through his camera lens.
he was right. the money did soothe your nerves.
âiâve barely done anything yet.â a ditzy giggle followed soon after your sentence, a sound that yuuta couldnât possibly ignore. you were already starting to pull at his heartstrings.
âand youâve done it so perfectly,â his praise left you flustered in that moment and you bit down softly on your lower lip to keep your smile at bay. âthank you, yuuta.â
you wouldâve never guessed that your introverted classmate had enough experience in him to be such a flirt, or have your cheeks heating up with fervid affection, no less. but maybe yuuta was just like that; maybe this had been natural.
âno, thank you.â his thumb hovered over the record button just as his eyes met your gaze over the brim of the camera. âwould you like to start now?â
he took the nod of your head as confirmation to press the record button, finally getting started with the project.
you blinked blankly at him as he tilted his head and flashed a warmhearted grin. âhow old are you?â was his first question. he had asked while rolling up the sleeves of his shirt. as he did so, you took notice of the silver ring donned around his finger.
he couldnât have been married, no?
keeping your answer as vague as possible for the sake of matching his comforting warmth, you responded, âtwenty-something.â he let out a satisfied huff of air as he nodded and moved onto his next query.
âand whatâs your major?â
with the question barely having enough time to linger in the suggestively tense air, he added, âyouâre very beautiful, by the way. do you mind taking your dress off for me?â
as much as it shouldâve alarmed you, you were swayed by his toothachingly inviting timbre, its gentleness pulling compliancy from you in a matter of a few mere words. you only shook your head, forgoing the short piece of fabric that clung to each curve and dip of your body while your nipples hardened under the glacial, artificial breeze of his home. once the silk pooled at your hips, that, along with your panties were dropped onto the floor, leaving you bare and vulnerable under the camera â and yuutaâs watchful eye.
he swallowed thickly at the sight, remaining as respectful as he could despite the monster growing in his pants; his eyes locked right back onto yours as if heâd get striked down for moving them even a millimeter south. âare you a virgin?â he queried, opting to move his hand from awkwardly at his side to fidgeting with the button at his shirt, ultimately undoing it and revealing another inch of skin at his heated chest.
from the nature of what you had signed yourself up for, you were hesitant to answer his question. of course you needed experience to be a star, and with you lacking the preconceived ability, you could kiss your $1000 goodbye..
yet he looked at you with an expectant gaze. no traces of malice in his eyes or frustration from your quick witted silence, but merely, with patience. and in that moment you couldnât find it within yourself to lie.
âi am,â out of shame, you curled in on yourself, hoping that the sofa would engulf you, and your feelings, crossing your arms over your bare chest as if itâd create a wall of privacy behind your own humiliation. âis that okay?â
yuutaâs being only grew warmer at the response, you figured heâd be hot to the touch by now, from searing pleasure or unshakeable cordiality, you wouldnât know. âyeah, thatâs okay,â it came out breathier than he wouldâve liked, a telltale sign of his aching desire. âthatâs more than okay.â
truth be told, he had never met anyone as enchanting as you. you looked up at him with such trust in your eyes that it daunted him â fear that the assurance he wielded from you would shatter beneath him, and heâd be drowning. in a sea of his own wistfulness. now that he had you, he couldnât let you go.
you were on to make a breathtaking star.
now feeling less coy than before, you relaxed your head into the palm of yuutaâs hand. you hadnât noticed how long heâd been stroking at your cheek, or when he closed the vexing proximity between the two of you, all that mattered in that moment was the roll of his gentle vocables flowing through your ears and the thumb of his that graciously caressed your cheek.
you came to realize that he was much more handsome this way as your eyes toured his own, then down to the sliver of sweat-sheened skin peeking from underneath the black veil of his shirt, then down to hisâŚ
heâs so fucking hard.
confined against his slacks was his cock that leaked an ample amount even while it was untouched. you could make out its silhouette, something girthy, perhaps heavy, but nothing like youâd expect from yuuta. uncharacteristically huge.
âyuuta.â you whispered, mainly to yourself, as your mouth began to water at the sight, and his cheeks dusted pink once he realized what you were fixated upon.
âdo you wanna,â he started up but faltered soon after when your lidded gaze flitted back up towards his. never had he felt so weak before, it was as if youâd casted a spell on him. âdo you maybe want toââ he paused to avert his own gaze and embarrassment. ââput it in your mouth?â
he couldâve sworn he heard the increase of his heartbeat in his ears when you crinkled your brows, pretty face forming into an even prettier pout.
âbut iâve neverââ
he stopped you before you could start, interjecting his own voice of reassurance.
âitâs okay. iâll guide you,â taking his camera off its stand and moving the rest of the configuration elsewhere, he held it in one hand to better capture the scene unfolding before him. âjust try your best for me, okay?â
âokay.â when he returned your concern with a small smile, you took it upon yourself to undo the arrangement of his pants, carefully hooking your finger into the elastic waistband of his briefs and pulling down just enough for his length to spring free.
for what felt like minutes, you marveled at his sheer size, wondering how anyone of his nature could possibly be hiding something like that. it curved upwards with a prominent vein or two running up the underside while it continued to leak, so much so, that you had to collect it all at the tip with your finger.
the tip? flushed the prettiest pink youâd ever witnessed and was as bulbous as it was mushroomed, you knew youâd have a bit of difficulty trying to fit into your mouth. it seemed to twitch under the fanning of your breath to which yuuta let out a whine of pure impatience.
âcan i..?â your words trailed off when you involuntarily found yourself pressing chaste kisses along the length of his cock until they met with his sticky tip; a recreated scene from the various porn videos youâd seen. the sensation sent a jolt of palpable pleasure through his being, yuutaâs dark hair curtaining over his eyes while he made a damn good attempt at silencing his moans, with his teeth sunken into his bottom lip.
your eyes kept watch at his wavering expression while you wrapped your hand at the base of his length and began to pump slowly, yet another thing you had learned through the fascinating world of porn.
âsuck it,â it was clear to you that yuuta had grown desirously impatient from your teasing, looking down at you with a hint of hunger in his beautiful orbs. âplease?â
you took his words as an incentive to finally give him what heâs been leaking for, wrapping gloss-sheened lips around the thick inches of his tip, accommodating for the stretch with a dulcet whine that reverberated deeply within him. had you not been caught up in building the gradual bob of your head, he wouldâve kissed you, left you with smeared lips and a tongue that ached for only him upon seeing the sinful sight of innocent eyes fixated on his own. youâre beautiful. truly, to die for.
caught all on tape to be watched over and over again.
at the bliss, yuutaâs lip parted open, alotting for a slur of groans turned whimpers to tumble past. âyou- youâre already doing, so good.â he praises, the words floating on his breath. his free hand finds itself back at your face, thumbing the warmth of your hallowed cheek while he captured the moment behind his lens. once you came to a comfortable rhythm, you couldnât stop yourself from dipping your fingers between your thighs to ease the evergrowing ache in your core. in fact, youâd been like this since the moment yuuta spoke a word to you, lightheaded and malleable â what heâs beginning to love most about you.
your digits collected slick at your entrance, the immeasurable amount of essence that youâd pool providing ample leeway for you to sink three fingers inside, pumping at the same rhythm in which youâre sucking yuuta. soft fingertips curling against your gummy walls werenât enough, though, and when he had caught notice of your weakening resolve, his hips involuntarily bucked into your mouth.
âsorry, âm sorry,â he began, with a choked moan. âjust- so close, so fucking close. c-can you take me in deeper?â
the hum of assurance that sounded from you sent vibrations coursing through his cock, from tip to base. had you not been preoccupied with chasing your own high, you wouldâve missed the pitchy moan he let out just after. with your palm now pressed up against your clit while you worked in tandem to pleasure the nub and your greedy hole, you attempted to swallow another stubborn inch of him.
simultaneous with the bobbing of your head, he matched your pace, abdomen flexing when the white-hot pleasure became too much and he could feel it in his ears. he wanted so badly to throw his head back, completely lose himself in bliss, but he had a job to do. he wouldnât dare let the sight of your glassy lidded eyes and glossy lips struggling to wrap themselves around the stretch of his dick go unfilmed, unseen.
as his tip continued to prod the back of your throat and your fingers aided you in relieving the discomfort from your cunt, you found yourself just dangling off the dangerous edge of your release, strokes away from making a mess â and yuuta did too.
it wasnât long until his head started spinning, legs got weaker, and his core coiled tighter; all the signs of a mindblowing orgasm, and blew his mind, you did. âbaby- y/n, if you keep doing that- i might cum.â what he was referring to was the way you fondled his balls in the warmth of your soft hands, yet another trick you had learned from porn. âi donât wanna cum in your mouth but if youâ,â
a jumbled slew of curses flowed from his lips as he did the inevitable, shot his load deep down your throat, gently thrusting his cock in shallow strokes to jettison every last remaining drop. the taste on your tongue was nothing like youâd be warned of before. yuuta wasnât bitter, he went down easy.
hell, youâd use his cum as a condiment for desserts if you could.
in a matter of moments, your own high had washed over you like cold water over a heated body, much needed and refreshing. once he hesitantly pulled out from the heat of your mouth, cock still hard and twitching for more, he gently pushed back strands of loose hair behind your ear.
âcan i see?â
you held out your cream-slickened fingers, sopping with your juices as yuuta proceeded to catch how they dripped on camera. he then took your palm, with the cadence of a knight kissing the back of a princessâs hand, and slipped the soiled digits into his mouth. his tongue lavved around your index and middle fingers while he hummed satisfactorily at your taste. âyouâre just as sweet as i imagined.â he smiled, finding amusement in your post-orgasmic, dazed state.
âdo you do this with a lot of other girls, yuuta?â you queried, taking the time to scan your eyes over his face. it was as if he seemed to get more attractive as your time with him went on. he tilted his head slightly, finding your question endearing. âyouâre my first, actually.â yuuta responded softly, as if his normal speaking voice would be too heavy on your delicate ears.
you jumped at the chance to tease him as he did you, placing your thumb back over the slit of his hard-on and lightly rubbing; which resonated within yuuta as a tonal mewl. a little smile pulled at your lips when you got your perfect reaction. âcan you be my first?â
âiâd love to be,â he took your request with unadulterated honor as if heâd been tasked by the deities above to serve you. âjust- just lay back for me. i promise iâll take good care of you.â
and that you did; conforming to his call of request with such compliance it made his heart swell. you had positioned your body to rest languidly against the seat of the sofa, shaky legs hesitant to spread fully while your hand roamed up your sternum to find solace in kneading your tits.
he couldnât deny how beautiful you looked, laid out for him as such. how had he been so lucky to be the only one to have the opportunity to marvel at the scene? with a steady hand, he faintly trails his hand up the expanse of your inner thigh, a silent beckon for you to open your legs wider. involuntarily so, your body had accepted his presence and allowed for the spreading of your thighs.
what youâd come to notice with yuuta was that he was watchful, observant. he seemed to pick up on every detail, even the minuscule bits that were most likely to fly over anyone elseâs head, had been taken into account. itâs probably why heâs immensely proficient at what he does. not once had he allowed himself to miss the labored heaving of your chest, or the sheen of sweat thinly coating your body â the twitching of your clit when he stroked featherlight touches at the nub. he couldnât call himself a true cameraman then.
his fingers had collected remnants of your previous orgasm before they worked in tandem, both middle and ring, to prod at your sensitive hole, slowly sinking themselves in. it was almost embarrassing how quickly your greedy cunt swallowed him in, as if itâd been waiting for his touch for years now. ây-yuuta, âm still sensitive.â you crooned in response to his digits exploring your cavern, plush walls gripping him with such tautness that heâd found it difficult to even curl his fingers.
his own mind spun (and cock leaked) at the thought of that same warmth around his length, and when you called his name, all he could think about was how pretty youâd sound moaning it. he wouldnât mind if you were sonorous, if the neighbors would hear, if inumaki who lived downstairs would come knocking with a mouthful of complaints, if the whole world knew his name; because in that moment, yuuta okkotsu was yours.
yuuta okkotsu was in love.
after some shallow pumping, enough to have your legs attempting to enclose around his arm, yuuta had pulled his digits out and replaced the lost sensation with the fat tip of his cock stroking your slit up and down.
âiâm gonna put it in, okay? if you want me to stop, tell me. if i'm going too fast or slow, let me know.â
he perused your face for a hint of an answer, seemingly nothing going on behind your vacant, large eyes. your initial response was curt, an ode to the simplistic nature of your mind. âmhm.â
how endearing you were to him, just a unadorned reaction weakening his being, causing his heart to figuratively crumble within its confines against his ribcage. he had searched for a heartier answer, something tangible to hold on to, because, lord knows how terrible heâd feel if he took your indication the wrong way. âcan you be vocal for me, please?â
you nodded your head. âiâll let you know, yuuta.â
with a carefulness that only came from the most benign of beings, he had sunken the first inch of himself into your awaiting heat.
he was paused when your hand dashed to his lower abdomen, futilely pressing against the skin.
âwaitââ you huffed wantonly. âââs too big.â
his eyes wavered with concern, hidden under the veil of pure arousal. in yuutaâs case he had dreamed of a compliment as self fulfilling as yours, for his thoughts of being average were shattered upon first inch. âshould i stop?â
you shook your head, reveling in the light of his attentivity towards you and your body. âno,â you moved your hand from his abdomen. âdonât stop.â
one of his arms rested beside your head, helping to prop him up over your body while he dropped his head down to watch the way your bodies connected. gradually, the sight of his length slowly sinking inside, stretching you out further and further until he was in to the hilt flooded his vision. yuuta had caught on to your labored gasps, merely growing harder from your honeyed voice like music to his ears.
he then lifted his head, strands of inky, out-of-place tresses falling over his face and partially covering the depth of lingering eyes, that lingered for a second too long, causing that shuddering sensation you had once felt when you first met him to reappear. he held his camcorder beside his face, an all too cheerful grin masked over his features. âiâm all in!â
creepy.
there was no doubt that you hadnât felt full. he practically spilled over with how much girth he possessed and throbbed innately within your walls. the swell of your tummy from just how deep he was, was enough to tear away at his composure and drag his length back before driving his hips in at a force unrecognizable to him. the yelp you had let out from his eager thrust dwindled into a blissful moan. âsorry, so sorry.â he whispered, unable to take his eyes off the faultless assortment of breathtaking features that was your face, eyebrows creased together, parted lips and eyes squeezed closed as if youâd been focused solely on the pleasure he was giving you.
his next thrust stroked softer than its predecessor, having no remnants of eagerness but instead, the nuance of a man thatâd been simply smitten.
the meticulousness of his ministrations coursed through your body wondrously, each push and pull lathered in lust, savored to be remembered for the rest of his time on earth. it was as if heâd known your body for years, knew every dip and fold, every swell and mast, aware of what exactly it took to leave your body hungry for his touches.
youâd grown comfortable in the pace at which he set, your mind hazing over each time the blunt tip grazed along your gspot. he peppered kisses along your jaw and down your sternum, the fanning of his warm breath against your chest doing the minimum in stiffening the peaks of your breasts. shootable footage forgotten, yuuta took your mound into his mouth, teeth gently rolling against your nipple which caused you to tighten around his cock in response, the sweetest mewl heâs ever heard from you tumbling from your throat.
âat least take me on a date first, yuuta..â the wittiness of your voice had earned a stifled smile from him, finding utmost admiration in the suggestion. heâll be sure to take you up on your offer, just as you had done for him.
when you felt the familiar coil within you starting to build up once more, you dipped your hand down to rub at your clit in tandem with the increasing vigor of his strokes. the sensation was all too foreign to you, too pleasurable that you couldnât keep your sounds at bay. ââm so close, g-gonna cum!â you had warned, yuuta pulled away from your tit with a soft pop. he chose to rest his head at the juncture of your neck and shoulder, mindlessly chanting the words like a mantra.
âi love you, i love you,â his pace faltered, growing sloppier by the second. âlove you, love you so much.â
intoxicated by your heat, your scent, just you being you, and being so perfect â yuuta was pussydrunk. incredibly so. never in his life had he ever felt as high as you made him. you were an angel, sent to him from heaven, to defile and mark.
quickly, your release surged through you in torrents of ecstasy, nothing that youâve experienced before, coating yuutaâs cock in the glorious essence of you. âcumming!â you cry, to no avail particularly since yuuta wasnât wholeheartedly aware of the situation at hand. his mind was clouded with you, just as you were full of him, wincing in the aftershocks of your fervent orgasm and convulsing around his length with need.
it wasnât long before his own ununified thrusts came to a sudden close, signifying the warm spurts of cum painting your insides, filling you entirely to the brim and leaking down your ass from riding out his high.
âgod, i love you.â he whined, pressing faint kisses to your neck, unable to peel himself away from your fervid body. coming to your senses, his words finally resonated for you. âwe only just met.â
he pulled himself up, opting to look down at your flushed face with a vague hint of confusion on his face as he tilted his head. âhave we?â
âwe have.â you nodded.
to yuuta, heâs known you his whole life. you were the light of his existence, the fire in his heart. had he managed to confuse you with someone else? surely, that wasnât the case.
once he pulled out of you, he made sure to capture the moment that you leaked his seed on film, but in that time, borrowed jealousy had filled his soul. he couldnât share the tape as he had planned, no one else deserved to see you in the same way he did. no one.
he tucked himself back into his pants, leaving you bare and oozing for just one second to fetch a warm wet rag to clean you up with. when he came back, you noticed just how chipper heâd gotten, if that were even possible. âyou were amazing,â he smiled, gently wiping your folds pristine. âiâm so grateful you came to me.â the smile you returned matched his own, âthank you, you were- really good too.â
he perked up, eyes moving from between your thighs to your face. âreally?â and when you nodded to him, you could see the apparent relief flow within his being. âyou know,â he started. âiâm very interested in you.â
you tilt your head, jutting your lips in a cute pout. âinterested, how?â
the camcorder that now resided on his coffee table, unpresumebly documenting the scene on display was picked up by yuuta, and turned off. he grinned softly, eyes shutting from his ear to ear smile.
âmay i take you on a date?â
#đ¨đľđŽđŹđłđŠđšđ¨đť đžđšđ°đťđŹđş âjujutsu kaisen.#jjk smut#yuuta smut#yuta smut#yuuta okkotsu smut#yuuta x reader#jjk x reader#yuta x reader smut#jujutsu kaisen#yuuta okkotsu x reader#yuta x y/n#yuuta x y/n#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen smut#yuuta okkotsu#yuta okkotsu#yuuta x you#jjk#yuta okkotsu smut#jjk x y/n#jjk x you#jujutsu kaisen yuuta#yuuta jujutsu kaisen#jjk yuuta
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i never forgot you
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"Did you hear Art Donaldson's coming?"
That's all anyone could talk about, Art this, Art that. So what if he was coming? You didn't give a shit. (You did, you always did when it came to him.)
Logically, you knew you might see him here, but emotionally, you were really hoping you wouldn't have to, especially considering there were hundreds of people at the Standford alumni gathering.
Once you'd graduated, you'd left all traces of him behind. Or at least, you tried. His name still popped into your head, his face sometimes even appeared in your dreams at night.
Even worse, promotion for him and Tashi Duncan's book was plastered over half the city of New Jersey. It certainly didn't help that one was on the billboard that you so unfortunately had a view of from the window of your apartment.
Your friendship with him had never been clear, but it had been everything but simple. You had felt there was always something more, with the lingering glances, and the gentle touches.
But all of that had changed when she showed up. Tashi fucking Duncan. You felt robbed, stolen from. As soon as she'd stepped into the picture, Art's attention was solely on her.
So you left. Erased yourself out of his life completely. Distanced your life from his until you both graduated, and never looked back. Well, mostly.
Looking back, maybe it was selfish. But all you knew is that you couldn't bear to watch him fawn over her like a lost puppy. Not when you felt so deeply for him.
You shake your head, trying to break yourself out of your stupor. There's too many people here, and you hate it. You already know everyone will want to ask you about your life, your career.
Once you'd left Stanford, you'd made a name for yourself in the tennis world. You loved winning, but you despised the attention. But you knew it was the price to pay for success. So, you tried to keep as much of your private life out of the headlines as possible.
You needed to clear your head, get some fresh air. And figure out what the hell you were doing here, and why you thought it was a good idea to show up.
Unfortunately, it seems like someone else had the same idea, as you're hit with the smell of smoke as soon as you step outside.
"Needed to get away, too?"
Your heart plummets at the familiar, yet unmistakable voice. The one person you'd prayed you wouldn't have to see. Art Donaldson.
You turn to see him leaning against the rail, taking a drag from his cigarette. You'd almost forgotten how utterly gorgeous he was until you laid your eyes on him, and it seemed like he'd only gotten better with age.
The smoke from the cigarette wafts off into the air, and your eyes lock with his. A moment of silence goes by. You want to greet him briefly and then walk off, but he speaks before you do.
"Long time, no see."
You mentally curse yourself for not being quick enough to have the first word, and nod slightly, an indifferent expression on your face.
"Art Donaldson. Has been a long time, hasn't it?"
He blows out another puff of smoke, eyeing you. He'd be lying if he said he'd forgotten about you. You were someone who had haunted him for years, through his entire marriage with Tashi. He could never forget about you, no matter how much time had passed.
"You haven't changed a bit."
You don't say anything, not quite sure how to respond. It's true, it had been years since you and him had last spoken. But what you didn't know is that he had made an effort to keep up with you. He'd been keeping tabs on how you were doing with your tennis career. He'd never admit it, but he was guilty of googling you, to find only headlines of your tennis wins, and barely anything about your personal life.
It seemed like when you weren't playing tennis, you basically ceased to exist, which he suspected was your choice entirely. Despite the years of zero contact, Art couldn't pretend like he didn't care for you. That he didn't still love you, even if he'd been so incredibly blind to it back in your college days.
"Congratulations, by the way." Art says, alluring to your recent conquest in the tennis world. "Winning gold at the Rio Games is no small feat." He can see in your expression that winning that medal wasn't completely satisfying. Your face tells him that you haven't felt a sense of contentment in a very long time.
He wants to ask you why you disappeared. He'd wanted to for years. But all that comes out is, "How's your family?" Stupid question with an even stupider answer. He wanted to slap himself in the face. He knew your family was a sore topic for you. And yet, he was still coming up with mindless small talk to try to fill the unbearable tension between you.
You sigh. "Fine, minus my bitch of a mother. She passed a couple years ago." Art internally winces. He knew you'd had it bad at home, only living with your mother for most of your life after your father had left when you were nine. You'd moved to California to attended Stanford the moment you'd become a legal age to be on your own.
He sucks in a sharp breath and frowns softly as you talk about your mother's passing. There was no love lost in between you and her, but he didn't want to be cruel and completely insensitive.
"Sorry about that." Art says, taking another hit off his cigarette. He looks at you, taking you in with a sense of wonderment. You had grown into such an incredible woman, and somehow, it seemed like you'd gotten even more beautiful. Your deep colored eyes and sun-kissed skin make his heart best faster. How he's missed you.
You shrug, trying not to show any hint of emotion on your face as you speak. "Eh, don't be. You know she was always a shit mother anyways."
If he was being honest, he'd say your mother was a lot of things- manipulative, selfish, abusive- but he would've been lying if Art said that he didn't want to protect you back then.
Looking back at it now, there's so many things he could've done differently back then, like be a better friend. Maybe even a better boyfriend, if he'd had the chance. His mouth opens as if he's going to say something stupid, but Art closes it and instead says, "Why'd you disappear? Why don't we talk?"
Your eyebrows raise slightly, at his inquiry. Truth be told, he knows what you don't talk anymore. He knows he fucked up, majorly. But he's relieved when you don't immediately snap at him, or worse. You always did have a short fuse.
"And how do you know I disappeared? Have you been keeping tabs on me?"
He looks at you, eyes narrowing in disbelief. "Are you serious?" Art raises his brows, "You're not seriously asking me that. You're one of the best tennis players out there. You went radio silent." He pauses, before saying in a slightly teasing way, "You're the one who should've been keeping tabs on me."
You scoff, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. "I don't have to. You and Tashi are plastered over half the buildings and billboards in Jersey." Jersey. Jersey? He was surprised you moved there out of all places. You'd always expressed a dislike for it back then.
Art chuckles at your response. "What, don't you like Jersey?" He jokes, flicking the cigarette away. He turns his body to look at you, studying your expression. "But seriously. Why did you drop off the face of the earth?" He's not going to tell you that he'd looked for you, even though he had. It was a few searches on Google, a few emails. You'd just vanished.
His mouth opens again, this time not backing down from what he really wanted to say. "And don't give me some bullshit excuse either." It sounds more like a command to you than anything. Art is really trying to keep himself from saying all the things he's wanted to say for years.
The thinly veiled frustration lining his voice sends a rush of anger through you. Who does he think he is, ordering you around?
"Don't speak to me that way. Like you have some type of control over me."
It's then Art knows he's screwed up, letting that irritation seep into his tone. He knows he doesn't have any control over you. He never has, and never will. He doesn't want to control you. He just wants you again.
"I'm not. I know I don't have control over you. But did you forget that I was once your friend?" Friend. It pains him to even call you that. You were always more, even though he was completely sucked into Tashi's orbit, like she was the sun. She wasn't. Art stands taller, his broad shoulders straight, his eyes never pulling away from yours.
"Were we, though? You dropped me for Tashi the second she showed up, and you wonder why I haven't reached out?"
Art's teeth grind in his mouth. "That's not fair." He says gruffly, even though he's lying through his teeth. "I didn't drop you. If I remember correctly, you were the one who left." He's getting agitated, his heart starting to race, his hands starting to clench into fists.
But not towards you. God, never you. He'd rather die than ever cause you harm. But the thing is, you weren't wrong. That's exactly what he did.
"I left because I knew if I stuck around, it would never stop hurting me."
That's when Art knows, getting involved with Tashi was the worst thing he ever did. It cost him his friendship with Patrick, his love for tennis. It cost him you.
He knew that your words were laced with truth, that he truly was the root of the heartache that you felt. And he'd do anything to take it back. But he couldn't. The only thing be could do now it try to make it right.
As for his feelings, that's another can of worms Art doesn't even want to open. He'd always had feelings for you, feelings that he thought would go away. But no, years later, they were still as present as ever. He wished he hadn't been so blind.
"I've always been second to Tashi. I couldn't ever compete with her, Art."
He swallows hard. Deep down, he knows it's true. Back in your college days, he was so focused on Tashi that he'd failed to notice what was right in front of him.
Art's heart hurt for you. But even though he knew how much he'd hurt you, how selfish he'd been, he couldn't help but get upset at your words.
"You could never complete?" He huffs through clenched teeth, shaking his head. "God, you just don't get it, do you?" Art steps forward, his body almost towering over you.
Rationally, he knows this isn't the right time or place, and maybe there won't ever be a right time or place. But you're here, now, and he won't lose you again without telling you how he feels.
A sudden heat washes over your body as he steps closer, his breath hitting your face.
"You could never, ever compete with Tashi, but not because you aren't good enough." His hand shoots up to touch your cheek, a soft touch to your skin. His thumb runs against your bottom lip, gently.
Everything in you screams for you to back away, go before you get hurt again. But you find yourself mesmerized by those same eyes you fell in love with all those years ago.
Art's voice is low and deep as he continues, his eyes never leaving yours. "You could never compete with her because I was stupid, I was stupid enough to fall in love with you first. But I pushed you away."
The confession is whispered, and you can hardly believe what he's said. What is going on? Art Donaldson is standing in front of you, declaring his love after years of no contact and a failed marriage to another.
"Art, I..." You don't know what to say. Your brain is mush, your head filled with a million thoughts, your heart threatening to pound out of your chest. You're missed, you're resented, you're loved, and now all you want to do is kiss him.
His hand cupping your cheek begins to slide down to your neck and his other hand slips around your waist, softly tugging you against him. His fingers slide through your hair and Art's eyes are on you, watching you, taking you in.
"I have loved you since we were kids. I was so stupid to not notice it before." He whispers, his breath hitching and his cheeks flushing ever so slightly. "And I have never been able to get you out of my head or my heart. And I am sick and tired of pretending like you aren't the love of my goddamn life."
There isn't any hint of malice, or treachery in his eyes, and he hopes to God that you know that. He knows he can't ever take back the pain he caused you, but he wants to try even if it kills him.
With that, Art kisses you. It's hot, it's needy, and it's passionate as all hell. Your body is responding to him in ways you didn't even know was possible. As he continues to pour all his love for you into that kiss, it picks up in pace, until you feel Art's teeth biting your lip. Your mouth opens to respond, but his tongue slips inside your mouth, causing a low moan to hum out of you. Your tongues slide against each other, your bodies pressed together tightly.
Art can't help himself as his hands explore every inch of your body. One hand is buried in your hair, but the other is traveling down, exploring the bare skin of your back. You arch into him, your fingers digging into his shirt.
You taste like nicotine and beer, you taste like home, a flavor that makes him all that much hungrier for you. He lets out a low groan as he slips his hands into the back of your pants, causing you to moan into his mouth.
Art is starting to lose control and knows that if he doesn't stop this now, he'll take you right here in the grass outside the reunion. He doesn't want your first time to be like this. Not when there's been so much grief getting here, so much pain he's caused to you.
Reluctantly, he rips his mouth off of yours, pulling away slightly. Both of you are panting heavy, your cheeks flushed.
Art doesn't say anything at first. His eyes rake over your disheveled appearance, your lips swollen, your hair out of place. He's sure he looks just as bad. Clearing his throat, he mutters a soft apology. "This isn't happening here. Can I..." He's about to say that he wants to take you back to his hotel.
You nod quickly, eyes blown wide with desire, but with love, too. "Y-yeah. Yeah." After all this time, not seeing him, you'll be damned if you let him slip through your fingers again.
That's all Art needs to hear. He grabs your hand and intertwines your fingers before leading the way to his car. Thank god the reunion was being hosted at a hotel, or Art wouldn't have been able to control himself.
After getting into the car, Art speeds out of the parking lot, his hand never letting go of yours. The drive back is a bit of a blur, his focus solely on you.
When you arrive at his hotel, Art is pulling you down the hallway, your lips connected like two magnets, unable to stay away from each other. Every step is like a challenge as you make your way to the room. All the while, you both stumble over your own feet until you feel your back against the door. You moan into his mouth once more, pulling at Art's shirt, before your kiss is broken by a panting Art.
"Wait," Art whispers, his voice soft. His eyes look at you in the dark of the hallway, his breath coming in hard pants. He's about to ask you if you want this, but your lips meeting his, your hands exploring his bare chest underneath the shirt, is all the answer he needs. He fumbles around for the handle of the door, trying to put the key card in, and it seems like an eternity until you stumble into the room.
Once inside the bedroom, Art is pulling you on top of him on the bed, his body desperate for you to be closer. You shift in his lap, pressing yourself against him, his hardness against your thigh. You gasp, hands running down his chest. Your lips remain locked as your fingers explore each other. Art is running his hands under your shirt, exploring your waist and sides eagerly.
And that's when Art's brain is hit with a sudden realization. He pulls back, breathing heavily, "Wait. We need to stop." He says, his voice firm. Art's eyes find you, and your brow is furrowed as you look at him with confusion and desire.
"What is it?" You ask, your breathing shallow. Art's hands on your sides make you shiver, his touch awakening every inch of your body. "Do you..." You pause, watching his face, "Do you not want this?" Your voice is soft and questioning.
His hands on your sides grip tighter as he answers, "God no, I want this. I want you. I just..." Art can feel the words catch in his throat, but then the question slips out, "Do you love me? I just... I don't want this to be just a causal thing, you know? I finally have you, and I don't want to lose you again." He waits for you to answer, the words hanging in the air. Your breath hitches in his ears.
The anxiety coursing through your veins deflates at his response, and you laugh quietly. "Are you dense? Of course. I've loved you since we were sixteen."
And that is what he's been waiting for. Art can feel a smile spread across his lips, his heart swelling as he pulls you in for a kiss. It's not a kiss filled with the same desire as before. It's filled with love and joy, full of passion and promise.
His hand moves to your back, gently caressing your back, before he flips the two of you so that he's leaning over you, his body still pressed against yours.
His mouth moves down to your neck, pressing wet kisses along your skin, while his hands slide up your sides to tease the waistband of your jeans. He can feel your fingers burying themselves in his hair, your back arching just slightly.
Art can feel the neediness as your touch urges him closer and closer. You're tugging at his shirt, your breath coming out in short stutters. He feels your mouth trail down his neck and Art's hands fumble with your jeans, desperately working on the zipper and pushing them off.
As soon as your jeans are off, he presses his body against you again, his hips rocking into yours. A low moan slips out of Art's mouth as your bodies grind into each other, his mouth finding yours, hungry and hot.
Art can feel your nails dig into his shoulders. He's gripping your thigh, his hand slipping under your shirt to touch your bare skin, feeling his need rise like a raising fire in his stomach.
You gasp out, fingers pushing at his shirt, desperate to see more. More of him. "Off- off. I wanna see you."
Your gasp makes his heart flutter and Art can't help but groan into your mouth as you say those words. "Yeah..." He mutters against your lips, his body hot and needy against yours.
Art lets go of you and lifts his shirt off, tossing it to the floor, revealing his hard, toned abdomen and built chest. His eyes search your face, watching you take in sight of him and waiting for approval.
God, he's beautiful. Like a damn sculpture in a museum. You lean up to press hot, open-mouthed kisses to his chest, taking a moment to gently tug on his nipple with your teeth. If that isn't a sign of your approval, then he doesn't know what is.
Art bites the inside of his lip to muffle his moan. The feeling of your teeth on him is like electricity on his skin and he can't help the whimper that slips out of his mouth. His own teeth graze the skin of your neck, sucking slightly.
He wants you, needs you. And you are making it painfully obvious that the feeling is mutual. He moans into your mouth as Art pushes you gently back into the mattress as he slides between your thighs.
And then his body is pressing against you again, and you're both back to grinding against each other, the friction making you both moan. It's hot and sweat-inducing, passionate and fast. Art's hands are reaching for your bra and tugging it off, needing to feel your skin on his.
The minute the bra hits the floor, he's touching you again, his hands trailing down from your chest to your hips. His mouth finds yours again, your kiss a needy, hard, hungry mess of tongue and teeth.
Art is painfully hard, desperate for you. His hips are rocking, his breath coming hot and needy as you grind together. The pleasure is starting to build, and he can feel your own neediness growing.
He's got to be inside you. Every part of his body is screaming with that need, but he's so desperately trying to hold back. It's not just Art, though. You're needy, as well, your moans and whines telling him exactly what you want.
Art's hand slides down your body, and pauses just above the band of your panties, looking at you in a silent question of consent. When you nod, his hand slip into your underwear, his fingers touching your wetness. He can feel you gasp against his mouth, and Art's fingers rub teasing circles against your cunt. "You're so beautiful." He whispers against your mouth, desperate and needy, "And you're all mine." He's never sounded so possessive before and it shocks him.
But you can't get enough of it. After years of longing, years of pining, he's finally looking at you. He loves you. You moan in his ear, hips canting into his touch.
And then Art's fingers are slipping inside you, pumping slowly as you kiss and press into each other. The way you moan, the way your body reacts, makes Art moan with you, unable to keep himself quiet. He's drowning in your scent and your skin, everything in this room is you.
One of your arms wraps around his neck, as you gasp, moan, and pant into his ear. You're squeezing around his fingers, as his name falls from your lips like a vow. "Oh, oh, God- Art- fuck, don't stop-"
Art's fingers are pumping harder and faster, driven by the sound of his name spilling from your lips. Your moans fill his ears, the sounds and the way you're saying your name makes his neediness all the more desperate. He's desperate to make you cum, to see you come undone because of him.
It isn't long before you feel that familiar coil building in your stomach. "I'm gon- fuck-" You're so close, he can feel it.
He moans into your mouth, shifting down as his fingers work harder, his thumb finding your cunt. "Yeah?" He whispers, his mouth trailing down your neck. "You gonna come for me, baby?"
You gasp out hoarsely, muscles tightening. "Yes! Fuck, mhm-" Your eyes threaten to roll back back, as your jaw goes slack at your upcoming orgasm.
Art can feel you trembling against him, your body shaking as his hands work. This is the effect he has in you and it's driving him crazy. He's panting with his own neediness, but watching and hearing you is what's doing him in. "Come on, sweetheart. Cum for me." He whispers, feeling you clench around his fingers.
"I'm-" You cut yourself off as Art's fingers hit just the right spot. Your nails dig into his shoulders, and you're gasping out into his shoulder, mostly incoherent swears as your muscles clench and your orgasm washes over you. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck- so good, so good-" The sight of you is something he never wants to forget. Eyes fluttering, mouth agape, your moans rising in pitch.
Art can feel a groan escape as he watches you orgasm, his fingers still working to bring you over the edge. You're a perfect picture of ecstasy, flushed pink and trembling against him. "God, you're gorgeous." He moans out, feeling your thighs tremble.
A moment later, he's pulling his hands away from your body, his own neediness growing more desperate. He kisses you, deep and hard, before murmuring in her ear. "Turn over for me, sweetheart."
You're a little shaky as you let him shift and roll you over on your stomach, but you're all too willing. Art's hands are sliding up your soft thighs, his touch gentle with so much love. He's pressed against you again, his mouth leaving kisses up your spine, before he's pulling a cushion under your hips.
His teeth sink into the soft skin of your shoulder as he grinds against you again, moaning into your shoulder; the friction and neediness is driving him insane. "I need you." He whispers, his voice thick with need.
You can feel him pressing against you, his desperate need all too apparent. You moan into the pillow in response, pushing back slightly against him. You whine softly as his teeth bite your shoulder, a low shudder running through your body. "Then take me." You moan, arching your back to press firmly against him.
You're driving him absolutely mad. Art's hands grip your hips, fingers pressing into the delicate skin before pulling you up against him. He's panting in your ear, "Yeah? You want me, baby? Tell me his much you need me." His own neediness is making him desperate.
Your hand reaches back to tangle your fingers in his hair, gasping into his ear. "Please, please, Art- need you to fill me up- need you so bad-"
Art's brain doesn't have time to register your words because he's moaning against your skin and rocking needily against you. His teeth bite your shoulder again as he pants out, desperate, "Yeah, honey, anything- anything you want- I'm yours." He whispers, almost incoherent in his desire for you.
His head dips down to your ear, panting into it and shifting slightly. "Do I need a condom, sweetheart?" He moans, his voice huskier than before. His hands are running down your sides again, the touch almost like a soothing caress before they settle on your waist.
You gasp out, hips still rolling back against his, desperate for friction. "No- I'm on birth control-"
Art nearly sags in relief. He would've used a condom if he needed to, but the thought of going raw inside you makes him to absolutely feral.
"God, you're perfect." He moans, one of his hands trailing back down to your hips and gripping them tightly. He's still moaning needily, your words only driving him further towards the edge. His forehead presses to the back of your neck, his breath hit and needy on your skin. "Gonna make you feel good, sweetheart."
When he finally slides into you, his eyes roll into the back of his head. You're so warm, so soft, so perfect. And the way you're gripping into his hair as he enters you is so goddamn good. You're tugging on locks of his blonde hair, as his body is draped over your back, skin to skin, and it takes effort not to cum then and there.
Art is panting into your neck, his body draped over yours like a living blanket. Your body is perfect under his, his hands gripping your hips and pulling you back into him, as he pants out, "You feel so good, sweetheart. God- can you-" His words are cut off as he bites the nape of your neck, and he's moaning, needy and incoherent.
He's pressed fully into you, surrounded by heat and pleasure. It's driving him crazy, but then you're pulling his hair and he's moaning against your skin, shuddering slightly. You're perfect, all of you, and Art's lost in you.
One of your hands stays tangled in his hair, and the other is curled tightly into the sheets as he thrusts into you, your body rocking forward with each one. Your breasts are bouncing slightly as he fucks you, and you're gasping and moaning pleas of his name, incoherent swears, and begging him not to stop.
And Art is thrusting into you, moaning and panting like a wild animal. His hands are gripping your hips, his own breaths coming out hot and needy against your shoulder. His own moans are spilling out, broken up by his words. "God, baby- you feel so good- so perfect-" He's practically whimpering with need, his face buried in your shoulder. "Want you so bad- honey- God-"
You're driving him insane with your gasps and moans, and Art's words are losing syllables, become more incoherent and slurred with his thrusts. You're perfect, and he can feel a pressure building low in his stomach. He's shaking, the pleasure becoming too much as he gasps out, "Sweetheart, I'm close- gonna-"
He's close, the pressure growing, and he's babbling mindlessly now, his words broken up by moans and gasps. "God- gonna come- don't stop-" He's whimpering into your shoulder, his hand traveling down to your waist and holding you like a vice.
He's pulling you back as he thrusts forward into you, and the pressure and pleasure are too much. His fingers dig into your waist, and Art can feel himself fall over the edge. He's moaning, gasping out your name as his nails dig into your skin, his breath hit against your shoulder.
It's only a moment before he's reaching down to rub figure eights against your cunt, desperate to make you cum.
And he's barely coming down from his own climax, still shuddering and gasping, yet his hands are moving already. He's touching you, fingers rubbing circles against your cunt, desperate to bring you over the edge with him. "Come on, baby. Come on-" He's whining, breath hot against your skin, as he continues his efforts, desperate for your peak.
You're close, he can feel it. You're trembling under his touch and Art's fingers are working faster and faster, begging you, "Please- please- come on- please-" And then you're arching your back against him, shuddering and gasping as you cum under his touch.
Art's eyes roll back into his skull as you come under his fingers and on his cock, a desperate whine slipping out of his mouth. He'd almost forgotten how wonderful your orgasms are. You're ethereal. "God- sweetheart-" He's moaning, pulling you closer, desperate to keep touching you and feel you shaking against him.
He's panting, his forehead pressing to the nape of your neck. His head us spinning from the onslaught of pleasure, his body trembling slightly. He's panting and shivering and still buried deep in you, and all he can think about is still you. Your skin, your scent, your body. His brain can't catch up.
It takes a few minutes before he's come down enough to pull away from you, slipping out of you slowly yet reluctantly. He's still whimpering in your ear, kissing your shoulder reverently. There's a gentle smile pulling at his lips as his arms wrap around you and pull you closer, wanting to feel more skin to skin contact.
Everything else slips away as his body is pressed against yours, legs tangled and skin on skin. Art's body is still buzzing from his orgasm, but right now, you're his one and only focus. He's whispering in your ear, mindless praise and sweet words he wouldn't dare say to anyone else. "God, baby- you're perfect. You're everything- I could drown in you and die happy."
You giggle softly, basking in the afterglow. After so long, you're here, with him. And he loves you. By God, does he love you. He reaches out to tuck a sweat soaked piece of hair behind your ear, pausing to gently run his thumb over your cheekbone. "I love you."
You can't help the exhausted grin that creeps onto your face when you hear that. "I love you, too."
He contains to murmur gentle words and praises, although his words are broken up by soft kisses to your shoulder. It's been years since he's felt this kind of pleasure. Years since he felt so content, so at home. Art hadn't realized how much he'd missed it- missed you. Right now, his only desire is to hold onto you, keep you as close as possible, and never let you go again.
Not that you'd even dream of leaving him again.
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i need more of that dont look seriesss i need sirius and reader to go against remusâ rules or summmm please and thank you if u choose to do so
whatever the people want, i shall give them đââď¸
donât look | remus & sirius
part 2
pairings: remus lupin x fem!reader, sirius black x fem!reader
warnings: smut (MDNI 18+), language
part 1
ââââââ âž ââââââ
Sirius opened his mouth to say something as Remus approached, but Remus put a hand up to cut him off.
âNope, donât even, Iâm still mad at you,â Remus stated, walking past Sirius.
âOh come on!â Sirius called to him, âlook, I said I was sorry.â
âI know, but Iâm still mad,â he called back, âand jealous, I guess.â
Sirius shrugged, âwell maybe you should stop eating out your hot girlfriend in a communal space, Moons, what did you expect?â
Remus stopped in his tracks. He turned around and approached Sirius, stopping only a few feet away from him.
âYou know you arenât supposed to look at her like that.â
âJeez, Moony, you arenât my dad.â
Siriusâs nonchalance bothered Remus. Remus was hot-headed, and it was nearly the full moon, which meant his emotions were heightened even more than usual.
It also meant he was hornier than usual.
He marched to your dorm, swinging the door open, despite the two other girls sat on the floor, textbooks sprawled across their laps as you all studied together. âI need you.â
Your eyes shot up at him, the other girls scanning his figure up and down. âRem, Iâm studying,â you told him, as if he couldnât see you doing just that.
âPlease, I just need to borrow you for a minute.â Remus tried not to sound desperate, but he most certainly did. He didnât care if the girls knew he wanted to borrow you to fuck you senseless, he only cared that he remained level-headed until he was alone with you.
You gave a smile to the other girls, closing your textbook and placing it on the floor before standing up and following Remus to his dormitory. He anticipated that it would be empty, but instead he found Sirius, cross-legged on his bed, a book in his lap.
Remus contemplated his options. Ever since Siriusâs infraction, he had avoided being with you in front of him, worried Sirius would try something again. However, today, he was angry, and he wanted to piss off Sirius by asserting his authority and dominance over you.
He pushed you onto the mattress, immediately hiking up your skirt and pulling down your underwear.
âRemus!â you squealed, taken aback by his haste.
He shushed you, saying, âneed you bad.â
âRemmy, itâs not even a full moon tonight, you can usually wait until later in the da-â
Remus cut you off by shoving two fingers into your hole, not caring about warming you up as you squirmed from his touch.
âShit,â you whined as his mouth connected with your clit, his tongue lapping up any wetness.
You moaned, your hands gripping his hair as he continued to shove his fingers in and out of you, his unoccupied hand pushing (with difficulty) his trousers down until he was left in his underwear, his hand sneaking past the waistband to lightly stroke himself at the sight of you.
Sirius was already in a fight with Remus over watching you, and part of him didnât want to make anything worse. Part of him also thought that since they were already in a fight, what did it matter? He would just have to be more careful.
You whimpered when Remus hit a particularly good spot, and Sirius looked toward you through hooded lids, ready to retreat his gaze if Remus checked in on him, but Remus was focused only on you.
He had almost forgotten Sirius was in the room, his desperation and need growing more intense with each moan and whine you let out.
He pulled away from you, pulling his boxers all the way down before crawling on top of you.
âI need to feel you, pretty girl, are you ready for me?â he cooed, stroking his cock faster and faster as he waited for you to respond.
âPlease, Remmy,â you begged, and he nearly came in his hand at the sound.
He lined himself up at your entrance, slowly pushing in despite his need. He would never give up watching your face as he pushed into you, even if he was desperate. The way your face contorted, the small whimpers that left your lips, the way your hair looked sprawled out on the pillows, the way your skirt bunched up around your waist-
He bottomed out inside of you, immediately starting to thrust in and out of you.
âShit, Rem,â you moaned at the feeling, âyou can use me.â You knew what he needed when the full moon was near, but your statement still drove him crazy as if he had never heard it before.
Remus placed both of your wrists above your head, holding them with one hand as his head dipped in the crook of your neck, his unoccupied hand finding your clit and rubbing fast circles as he fucked you. He didnât care about timing, he just needed you bad. He needed to come inside of you, but he needed you to come first, even if it all happened quickly. He adored the feeling of you coming on his cock, and needed to feel it to achieve his own high.
You turned your head so that Remus had more room to rest his on your shoulder, and you glanced at Sirius, who shifted his seated position as he heard you moan. You remembered the last time he was in the room, and you hoped he would look over at you again, your eyes focused on him as Remus pounded into you at a ruthless pace.
He finally did glance at you, but he did a double take, checking if you were really looking at him, and you were. You nodded your head up and down, a way to tell him it was okay with you if he watched, and that you wanted him to do as such.
His eyes remained on you, scanning your body up and down, watching your thighs fall more and more open as Remusâs hand moved faster and faster on your clit.
He loved seeing you with your hands above your head, a new sight for him, Remus having full control over your body.
Your back arched off the bed, causing the pressure on your wrists to increase as your climax threatened to hit, Remusâs hand and his cock almost too much to hold it together.
âSir- shit, Iâm gonna-â
You squeezed Remusâs cock like a vice, your high washing over you as your thighs shook.
âShit, baby,â Remus breathed.
He didnât catch your almost-slip, but Sirius certainly did, his eyes darkening as he watched you come down from your high, your body still shifting back and forth on the bed from the force of his best friendâs hips snapping against yours.
âGonna come in you,â Remus moaned, a final few, sharp thrusts sending him over the edge as he came, groans in your ear that only you could hear as he spilled his seed inside of you.
You signaled for Sirius to look away as Remus let go of your wrists, pulling out of you before standing up and gazing at your fucked-out frame.
âThank you, baby,â he placed a gentle kiss to your forehead, âlet me get you cleaned up.â
He stretched a hand out to you, and you took it, allowing him to guide you to the bathroom.
âś
Sirius did not speak to you for an entire week after that.
You tried to spark conversation, but he always found an excuse to leave the room or divert his attention. Remus noticed, but assumed it was because of the first time he watched you, and he quite enjoyed the thought of Sirius leaving you alone.
You were seated in the common room, everyone apart from you and the boys at a party in the Ravenclaw dorms. The boys had decided to skip this particular party thanks to Remus, who was falling behind in Transfiguration, and who cursed the Ravenclaws for throwing a party the night before a massive Transfiguration exam.
âI canât fucking focus,â Remus spoke, annoyed at his inability to comprehend the subject.
âI have some extra notes in the dorms,â James spoke, âI can try to find them, maybe theyâll help?â
âYeah, alright,â Remus agreed, âworth a shot.â
Remus sighed, placing a kiss on your forehead as he and James retreated up the stairs to search for Jamesâs extra notes.
You turned to Sirius, who avoided meeting your gaze.
âPlease talk to me, Sirius.â
He ignored you completely.
âSiri, please.â
The pet name broke him out of his mindset. âDonât call me Siri.â
âWhy not, Siri?â you teased.
âBecause it does things to me. Stop.â
âWhy?â
âSeriously, Y/N-â
âSeriously what? Why wonât you talk to me?â
Sirius lowered his voice, whisper-yelling, âwhat do you mean why wonât I talk to you? Iâm finally in a decent spot with Remus, what am I gonna do if he finds out I eye-fucked his girlfriend again while he was in the middle of railing her?â
âWhat does that have to do with you speaking to me?â you questioned.
âBecause every single time I look at you, I see- I see you like that.â
You raised your eyebrows in surprise at Siriusâs confession. âReally?â
âShut up.â
âYou like what you saw?â you teased.
âShut up.â
âYou wanna see more?â
âStop,â Sirius warned.
You listened intently up the staircase, and heard James yell, âI fucking swear they were here! Check in that one.â
You propped your legs up on the coffee table, allowing your legs to fall open and give Sirius an unobstructed line of sight to your core.
âDo you wanna see more?â you asked again, running a finger over your underwear, just above your folds.
âDonât fucking tease me.â
You nodded your head no, you were indeed not teasing him. You really were going to touch yourself.
You moved your underwear aside, giving Sirius full view of your most sensitive area as you put one of your middle fingers into your mouth.
You made a show of sucking on the digit, wetting the skin before slowly inserting it into your now-wet hole. You let out a light whine, so as not to alert Remus of what you were up to.
Sirius tried to restrain himself, but he quite literally could not take his eyes away from you. He was obsessed; a man starved who finally found sustenance. He couldnât look away if he tried.
You began to move your finger faster and faster, your other hand coming up to squeeze your breast over your shirt.
âShit, Siri,â you moaned, and Sirius nearly lost it right there.
He stood up and approached you, gripping the wrist that was moving your finger inside of your hole.
You assumed he would stop you, but instead, he pulled your finger out, pressing two of his fingers to your lips and allowing you to suck on them.
When he was satisfied with how wet they were, he replaced your finger with his own, his pointer and middle entering you slowly as you threw your head back.
Sirius turned his head to the staircase, hearing âwell why wouldnât they be with literally every other set of notes?â and âfucking hell, can you check the trunk over there?â
Sirius met your eyes, watching you squirm as he fingered you, his thumb finding its way to your clit and rubbing circles, a small smile finding its way onto his lips as he watched your reaction to his touch.
As he pumped his fingers faster and faster, he began to curl them against your spongy walls, a euphoric feeling.
âSiri, fuck,â you whined.
Siriusâs unoccupied hand went to your mouth, covering it to keep you from being loud enough for Remus or James to hear.
âYouâre so fucking pretty, did you know that?â Sirius spoke, hand still ruthless on your core, âstaring at me with someone elseâs cock in you, thinking it wonât affect me?â
You whined under Siriusâs hand, your hips beginning to grind on his hand as he continued speaking.
âSilly little girl, donât you know Remus said we shouldnât look at you? You keep breaking his rules, and thatâs only something bad girls do. Youâre not a bad girl, are you?â
Sirius only moved his hand from your mouth to hear you respond. âMaybe I am, Siri,â you moaned.
Sirius placed his hand back over your mouth, his fingers fucking you faster and faster after you spoke. âYou wanna be a bad girl? Iâll treat you like a bad girl. Isnât that what you want, huh? Staring at me when you have Remus inside of you?â
Your high was dangerously close, Siriusâs fingers better than you could have ever imagined, when Sirius heard âfuck this! Iâm just gonna go back downstairs.â
Sirius immediately pulled away, placing your legs back in a normal seated position as he sat back down across from you, scanning the pages of his textbook as if nothing had just happened.
âSorry that took so long, dumbass couldnât even find the extra notes,â Remus said, plopping down next to you and throwing an arm around your shoulders, âdid I miss anything good?â
#marauders#marauders era#marauders x reader#marauders era imagines#marauders era smut#marauders era fanfic#sirius black#sirius black x y/n#sirius black x reader#sirius black imagines#sirius black smut#sirius black fanfic#remus lupin#remus lupin x y/n#remus lupin x reader#remus lupin smut#remus x reader#remus lupin imagines#remus lupin fanfic#poly!marauders x y/n#poly!marauders fanfic#poly!marauders fic#poly!marauders smut#poly!marauders imagine#poly!marauders x reader#poly!marauders#asks
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â MOVE, IT'S A FALSE GOD â
A rising drug dealer returns to Zaun, igniting a "dangerous" power struggle. Tension turns into passion, old routes blur, who will control the game?
⤚ warnings: power dynamics, older man/younger woman, age gap, dom/sub dynamics, angst, begging, pwp, sexual tension, afab!reader praising, pet names, fingering.
⤚ songs used: move - taemin, false god - taylor swift, black swan - bts, danger - txt, automatic - red velvet.
The air in Silcoâs private office was thick with smoke, curling around the dim amber light that spilled from a single lamp. You leaned against the chair, the same old chair you used to sit to just watch the man infront of you start creating what would be the ruin of Zean, his blue eye lifting from the long forgotten documents he was supposedly reading before your entranceâ arms crossed, your confidence unwavering despite the sharp gaze he leveled at youâ or at least, thatâs what you try to pretend.
âItâs been a while,â you said pretending nonchalantly, tilting your head to meet his eyes. âI almost thought youâd forgotten about me, Silco. But here we are.â
He didnât answer immediately, instead taking a slow drag from his cigar, letting the silence stretch. It was the same with him as alwaysâevery move, every glance, carefully calculated to put others on edge. Once, it had worked on you.
Not anymore.
âI donât forget,â Silco said finally, his voice low and deliberate. âEspecially not those who think they can play in my waters without permission.â
You chuckled, a sound that carried a hint of mockery. âIs that what this is about? Permission? I didnât think youâd care, considering how⌠insignificant I used to be.â
His eye twitched, just barely, and you knew youâd struck a nerve. It was subtle, but years of knowing him had taught you how to read those tiny cracks in his armor.
âYou were a child then,â he said, his tone clipped. âA reckless, naĂŻveââ
âAnd now?â you interrupted, stepping closer, your confidence cutting through the haze of smoke. âStill think Iâm a child, Silco? Because from where Iâm standing, I seem to be doing just fine without your approval. Even starting to strike your own success.â
For a moment, he didnât respond. His good eye studied you, cold and unblinking, but there was something else there tooâsomething that betrayed his calm exterior.
âYouâve built quite the reputation,â he said at last, his voice quieter now, more thoughtful. âImpressive, even. But reputations donât protect you when youâre making enemies on all sides. Especially not mine.â
You smiled, slow and sharp. âFunny. I was going to say the same thing to you.â
He laughed, his breathless old laugh bringing the same warm (and rare) feeling to your chest. He looked at you in a way you couldnât describe, he was always the one you looked up for, not Vander, not Vi, him. Even when everything went to shit.
âYou think iâm feeling threatened by your presence here when youâre the one who always kept following around when you were just a clueless teenager trying to survive here?â
He smirked to himself, if you didnât know him all this years you wouldnât be able to see it, he took another long drag of his cigarette, making sure to look at you with a tentative face, like heâs testing the waters.
Silcoâs smirk lingered as his gaze roamed over you, deliberate and slow. It wasnât the predatory kind that most in the Undercity wielded like a weaponâno, this was something subtler, more dangerous. He let the silence between you stretch again, his presence pulling the air tight, as if daring you to speak first.
You didnât.
He leaned back in his chair, the sharp edge of his posture softening just enough to make him seem almost at ease. The movement was calculated, you knewâit always was with himâbut the faint trail of smoke curling lazily from his cigar only added to the intimacy of the space.
âYouâve certainly grown,â he said, his tone low and silken, as though the words were more for himself than for you.
It wasnât a compliment. At least, not entirely. But the way his eye flicked down to where your fingers rested on the edge of his desk, nails tapping a faint rhythm, made you feel as though he was cataloging every inch of you.
âOut of your shadow, Iâd say,â you replied smoothly, letting your lips curve into a faint smirk of your own. âWhich I imagine doesnât sit well with you, does it?â
He exhaled another cloud of smoke, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. âIs that what you think this is? Some petty tantrum over losing control?â
âIsnât it?â you countered, stepping closer. The glow of the lamp cast a golden hue across your skin as you closed the space between you, slow and deliberate.
You saw his eye darken slightly, his gaze following your movement with the precision of a predator assessing its prey. But he didnât move away. If anything, the tension between you only seemed to tighten as you came to a stop just shy of touching him.
âCareful,â he murmured, voice dropping to a near whisper. âYouâre playing a game youâre not prepared to lose.â
You tilted your head, meeting his gaze without flinching. âMaybe I intend to lose. Maybe I know exactly what Iâm doing.â
The sound he madeâa low, amused humâsent a shiver down your spine. He was close enough now that you could smell the faint metallic edge of smoke and shimmer clinging to his suit.
âDo you, though?â he asked, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. He leaned forward, elbows resting on his desk, the movement drawing you in until there was barely a breath of space between you.
Your pulse quickened, but you refused to look away. His good eye searched yours, his smirk softening into something more dangerous. Not threatening, but something far worse: intrigued.
âYouâve always had fire,â he said softly, the words hanging in the air between you. âBut ambition without restraint⌠Thatâs a dangerous thing in this world.â
âAnd yet, here I am,â you shot back, your voice steady, though your chest tightened at the weight of his words.
His gaze dipped brieflyâto your lips, before sliding back up to meet your eyes. It was fleeting, but unmistakable.
âYouâre bold,â he admitted, his voice dropping further, the gravel in it brushing against your nerves. âBut boldness doesnât mean you can stand the heat when you step into the fire.â
âMaybe,â you said, leaning forward until you were close enough to feel the faint warmth of his breath on your skin, âI just enjoy the burn.â
For the briefest moment, you saw something flicker in his gazeâsomething he quickly buried behind a sharp inhale and another pull from his cigar. But the tension lingered, coiling tight between you like a rope about to snap.
His eye sharpened as your words hung in the air. That flicker of intrigue youâd seen moments ago twisted into something darker, something colderâand yet impossibly more magnetic.
âYou think youâve got it all figured out,â he said, his voice soft but cutting. âThat your rise makes you untouchable. But even kings can fall.â
Your lips parted in a quiet scoff. âKings fall when they stop watching the board. And as far as I can see, youâre the one sitting comfortably on your throne while the ground beneath you starts to crack.â
His laugh was low, more exhalation than sound, as he leaned back in his chair. âA clever metaphor,â he murmured, his tone almost amused, silently nodding to your point. Who wouldâve known you would turn this way, follow his pathâand even his words? The realization sparked a strange feeling deep in his stomach, a warm, fuzzy sensation creeping up his neck.
âBut let me remind you,â he continued, his voice still smooth, âwho built that board youâre so eager to play on.â
âAnd let me remind you,â you shot back, stepping even closer, âthat no one stays untouchable foreverânot even you.â
For a moment, there was nothing but the hum of tension between you, the air too thick with smoke and unsaid words. And then he moved.
It wasnât a grand gesture, not with Silco. He didnât need one. Instead, he stood, the slow scrape of his chair against the floor sending a chill down your spine. By the time he was upright, he had erased the distance youâd carefully maintained, stepping into your space with a precision that left no room for retreat.
âCareful,â he warned, his voice barely above a whisper. The closeness made it feel like a growl. âYou might end up liking the view from your knees.â
You felt your breath hitch before you could stop it. The words struck something deep and primal, but you refused to give him the satisfaction of falteringâeven though those words stirred something inside you, a desire, a want⌠a need.
âAnd you might find,â you said, voice steady despite the way your heart pounded, âthat even from my knees, I can be the one in control.â
Something in his expression shiftedâjust barely, but you caught it. That sharp, calculating mask cracked for a fraction of a second, and you saw the flicker of frustrationâor was it fascination?âbeneath it.
He reached for the desk behind you, his hand brushing the edge as he leaned in, caging you against it without ever truly touching you. The faint smell of smoke and ash filled your senses, grounding you even as the tension spiraled. All you could smell was his expensive perfume mixed with the burn of his daily cigarettesâhis scent, only his.
Maybe your group was waiting for you, wondering what the hell you were doing with Silco, maybe even planning what to do if he killed you. But the situation you were in now was far better than anything else youâd ever experienced. This was the dirty, dangerous dream of a naĂŻve teenagerâthe dream youâd always had since the first time you met him. You couldnât risk losing it now.
âYou donât understand what youâre toying with,â he said, his voice lower now, almost a rasp.
âDonât I?â you challenged, tilting your chin up to meet his gaze. âYouâre the one who called me here, Silco. So tell meâwhat exactly are you afraid of?â
The silence that followed was deafening. His eye bore into yours, searching, testing, as though trying to unravel the web youâd spun between the two of you.
And then he smiled. Not the sharp, mocking grin youâd expected, but something slower, quieterâdangerous in its restraint.
âFear isnât the word Iâd use,â he said, his voice like silk. âBut perhaps⌠curiosity.â
Silco's gaze never wavered from yours as he took a slow, deliberate step forward. There was no more room between youâno space for retreat, no escape from the storm building in the air around you. His scent, his presence, overwhelmed you, filling your lungs and sinking into your skin.
His hand reached up, but this time it wasn't to push you awayâ it was to lift your chin, gently, but with undeniable force. His touch was cold, his fingers rough against the delicate curve of your jaw, and yet the heat radiating off him burned you alive. You could barely breathe beneath the intensity of his stare.
âI'm curious,â he murmured, voice low and dark, like the very shadows that filled the room. His thumb brushed along your lower lip, soft yet commanding, testing, teasing.
âDo you know what you're asking for?â
Your heart was pounding, but you refused to show weakness. You forced your gaze to stay locked on his, your breath shallow as you leaned into his touch, letting the burn of his fingers draw you closer. You could feel the weight of his presence, the power he exuded, the way it seeped into your very bones.
âI think,â you breathed, voice trembling just slightly, âI'm asking you to show me.â
The words had barely left your lips when his face closed the distance between you, his breath mingling with yours in a shared, heated exhale. His lips hovered above yours, close enough to taste, but he didn't kiss you âno. Instead, he let the anticipation hang, let it build, until you were certain you couldn't take it anymore. Every inch of your skin felt like it was on fire, and all you could think about was the want-the desperate, aching need that had been simmering between you for so long.
âShow you?â he repeated, his voice thick, almost a growl. âYou're bold to ask for that.â
Without warning, he pulled you closer, his hand gripping the back of your neck with a quiet authority that made your pulse spike.
His lips finally brushed against yours, a fleeting kiss, as light and delicate as the whisper of a shadow. But that brief touch was enough to send a jolt of heat through your entire body, making your knees threaten to buckle.
Before you could recover, he deepened the kiss-fierce, hungry, as if he'd been waiting for this moment as much as you. His other hand slid to your waist, pulling you flush against him. The heat between you was suffocating, your bodies tangled as the kiss grew more desperate, more urgent. You could feel his heart pounding in sync with yours, the strength in his body pressed against yours, both of you craving something neither could name.
The kiss was a collision of fire and ice, a dangerous dance of control and surrender.
His lips were demanding, possessive, but you matched him, not allowing him to dominate entirely. Every time he pulled back, you followed, chasing him like a moth to a flame.
He pulled away suddenly, leaving you breathless, eyes dark with a mixture of lust and something more complicated-something deeper.
âI've always liked fire,â he rasped, voice rougher now, as though the kiss had burned him just as much as it had you. âBut fire... it burns. And you're playing with it.â
You weren't sure if it was the heat of the moment, the way his hands had claimed you, or the raw hunger in his voice-but something inside you snapped.
âI'd say l'm more like an ice burn,â you murmured, your voice dripping with defiance.
Before he could respond, you surged forward, taking control, your lips crashing against his in a kiss that was anything but delicate.Â
The hunger between you was instantaneous, primal, as your hands gripped him with a new sense of authority. Silco had always been the one in charge, but now the roles had reversed, and you were the one pulling him closer, pushing him back against the desk with an intensity that left him breathless.
His shock didn't last long. Silco's hands moved, as though to regain control, but you were quicker. You pulled him firmly against you, forcing him to the edge of the desk, caging him there with your body. Your kiss was hungry, urgent, as though you were trying to consume him, and it felt like you were doing just that-biting, tugging, exploring him in ways that left no room for hesitation.
Silco's breath hitched, but this time it wasn't from power-it was from you. You were the one dominating the kiss now, your hands roaming across his chest, your body pressing him down with a quiet strength. He groaned against your lips, caught off guard by your sudden shift, and yet there was no resistance in him now. Only the heat of his body, the fire in his gaze.
His hands found your hips, but you didn't let him move you. You weren't done. Not yet.
âYou think you control everything,â you said between kisses, your voice low and teasing.
âBut even you can't resist me now.â
His hands tightened on your waist, but he didn't pull you away. Instead, he seemed to surrender to it, to you. His kiss deepened, now one of want-raw and desperate, matching your own intensity as you continued to trap him against the desk.
âThen show me,â he growled against your lips, hands gripping your back, pulling you closer until your bodies were flush against each other. âProve it.â Silco's growl sent a shiver down your spine, his hands tightening on your waist with just enough pressure to remind you exactly who was in charge here. You may have thought you could control the moment, but Silco wasn't one to be caged-or tamed.
The smirk tugging at your lips faltered as his hands moved, sliding up your back and pulling you flush against him. His strength was effortless, his grip commanding, and the air between you seemed to crackle as he tilted his head, his lips grazing yours in a way that sent a jolt of heat through your entire body.
âMercy?â he murmured, his voice dangerously soft, though his grip on you was anything but. âYou seem to be under the impression that I allow mercy.â
The air between you crackled with tension, charged with an electricity that prickled your skin as Silco's hands tightened on your waist. You could feel the heat radiating off him, the power in his grip, and it only fueled the fire burning within you.
"I don't want mercy," you breathed, your voice low and husky, your lips hovering just a hair's breadth from his.
His good eye darkened at your words, a low growl rumbling in his chest that you could feel more than hear. In a swift movement, he grasped your thighs and lifted you onto the desk, his body moving between your legs as he pinned you there with his weight.
The sudden shift left you breathless, your heart pounding wildly as you looked up at him, his face illuminated by the dim amber light of the lamp. His eye searched yours, intense and focused, as if trying to unravel the secrets hidden beneath your skin.
"Careful what you wish for," he murmured, his voice a low, dangerous purr. His hand slid up your thigh, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he leaned in closer, his lips ghosting along your jawline. âWho wouldâve thought you would turn into this nasty dearly thing huh?â
You shivered at his touch, at the way his breath felt against your skin, hot and heavy with want. Your hands gripped his shoulders, nails digging into the fabric of his shirt as you arched into him, desperate for more.
"I'm not afraid of you," you whispered, your lips brushing against his ear. "Are you?"
His response was a sharp nip to your earlobe, followed by a low chuckle that sent a shiver down your spine.
"Oh, I'm not afraid," he murmured, his hand sliding higher, fingers brushing against the hem of your skirt. "But you should be."
You gasped as his fingers pushed under the fabric, trailing fire across your skin as they moved higher and higher. Your head fell back, eyes fluttering closed as you lost yourself in the sensation, in the way his touch ignited every nerve ending in your body.
"Enlighten me, Eye of Zaun.â
Silco's response was a low growl, a sound of pure hunger as he captured your lips in a searing kiss. His tongue delved into your mouth, claiming you, possessing you, as his hands roamed your body with a desperate need.
You moaned into the kiss, your own hands tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer, deeper. The heat between you was suffocating, all-consuming, and you felt like you were drowning in the depths of your own desire.
His hands slipped under your shirt, fingers splaying across your bare skin as he broke the kiss to trail his lips down your neck. You arched into him, head thrown back in ecstasy as he left a path of fire across your throat, teeth grazing your pulse point.
"You want me?" he growled against your skin, one hand sliding up to cup your breast through your bra. "You want to see what I can do to you?"
You nodded frantically, too lost in the sensations to form words. Your body was on fire, every touch of his hands sending shockwaves of pleasure through you.
With a low chuckle, Silco's hand deftly unclasped your bra, tossing it aside before his fingers closed around your sensitive peak. You cried out, hips bucking involuntarily as he pinched and rolled the hardening bud between his fingers.
"That's it," he purred, his voice dark with lust. "Let me hear you."
His other hand slipped through your bottoms into your panties, fingers gliding through your slick folds. You were already wet, already aching for him, and he groaned at the feel of you.
âI could practically kill you right now. Cage youâ Torture you.â He chuckled as he looked at you, your mind already too lost to answer him. "So ready for me," he murmured, circling your clit with a feather-light touch that had you writhing beneath him. "So desperate."
You couldn't deny it. You were desperate, needy, aching for his touch like nothing you'd ever felt before. This was embarrassing. You always had a crush for the man, but you never stopped this low. Your hands scrabbled at his back, nails leaving crescent marks on his skin as you tried to pull him closer.
"Please," you whimpered, too far gone to care how needy you sounded. "Please, Silco."
âWhoâs in control now, dear?â
âF-fuck you Silco.â
âI think itâs the other way around.â He chuckled darkly, the sound sending shivers down your spine.
His fingers slid through your slick folds, teasing, taunting, stoking the fire that burned within you. You were already so wet, so ready for him, and the knowledge only seemed to spur him on.
"Look at you," he murmured, his voice low and thick with desire. "So desperate for me, so needy."
He circled your clit with a feather-light touch, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. You cried out, hips bucking involuntarily as he kept up the maddeningly slow pace.
"Please," you whimpered, too far gone to care how desperate you sounded. "Silco, please..."
He chuckled darkly, the sound sending shivers down your spine. His fingers continued their torturous dance, dipping inside you, stroking along your inner walls before retreating to circle your clit once more.
"What do you want, dear?" he asked, his voice a low growl. "Tell me what you need."
Your head thrashed on the desk, fingers tangling in his hair as you tried to pull him closer. You were so close, teetering on the edge of release, and yet he kept you there, balanced on a knife's edge.
"I want you," you gasped, your voice breaking on a moan as his fingers curled inside you. "I want your cock, Silco. Please, give it to me."
He groaned at your words, his eye darkening with lust. With a swift movement, he withdrew his fingers from your dripping core, leaving you empty and aching.
"Beg for it," he commanded, his voice rough with desire. "Beg me to fuck you."
You didn't hesitate, too lost in the throes of your own need to feel anything but the desperate hunger that consumed you.
"Please," you sobbed, your hips rolling shamelessly against him. "Please, Silco, I need your cock. I need you inside me, filling me, fucking me. Please, I'll do anything, just give it to me, give me your cock, please..."
You begged and pleaded, desperate for the touch of his cock, and Silco finally relented. With a low growl, he tugged your panties down your thighs, exposing your dripping core to the cool air of the room. You shivered at the sensation, at the way his eye raked over your body, taking in every inch of your exposed skin.
"So beautiful," he murmured, his voice low and thick with desire. "So perfect."
There was a calculated intensity in his gaze, a sense of purpose that sent a thrill of excitement through you. Silco was a man who knew what he wanted and went after it with unwavering focus.
He pushed your legs apart, settling between your thighs as he freed his cock from the confines of his pants. It sprang forth, hard and thick and already dripping with precum. You licked your lips at the sight, your core clenching with anticipation.
But Silco didn't rush, didn't give in to the desperate hunger that burned between you. Instead, he took his time, his fingers tracing along your slick folds with a maddeningly slow pace. You squirmed beneath his touch, your hips rolling shamelessly as you sought more of him.
"Patience," he murmured, his voice a low growl. "I'll give you what you need, but first, I want to savor every inch of you."
His words sent a shiver down your spine, a mix of fear and excitement that left you trembling. Silco was a man who took control, who demanded submission, and the thought of being at his mercy only fueled the fire that burned within you.
With a single, measured thrust, he buried himself inside you, stretching you wide around his thick length. You cried out at the sudden intrusion, your back arching off the desk as he filled you completely.
But even as he claimed you, there was a detachment in his movements, a sense that he was simply taking what he needed without any real emotional investment. He set a steady pace, his hips rocking against yours with a calculated precision that left you breathless.
Each thrust was designed to push you closer to the edge, to shatter the fragile control you clung to. His fingers dug into your hips, holding you in place as he used you for his own pleasure. There was no tenderness in his touch, no whispered words of affection or praise. Instead, there was a cold, clinical efficiency to his movements, as if he was simply fulfilling a basic need.
You could feel the coil of pleasure winding tighter and tighter in your core, your body responding to his touch despite the lack of emotional connection. Your nails scrabbled at his back, leaving crescent marks on his skin as you tried to pull him closer, to force some kind of reaction from him.
But Silco remained impassive, his eye never leaving yours as he continued to pound into you with a relentless rhythm. His breath came in short, sharp bursts, his jaw clenched tight with the effort of holding back his own release.
You could tell he was close, his thrusts becoming more erratic, more desperate. But still, he didn't give in to the pleasure, didn't let himself fall into the abyss of ecstasy that threatened to consume you both.
With a final, brutal thrust, he buried himself deep inside you, his cock pulsing as he found his release. You could feel the hot spurt of his cum filling you, marking you as his own, and a part of you thrilled at the thought of being claimed by him.
As he pulled away, his softening cock slipping from your well-used core, you felt a sudden chill, a sense of abandonment that left you aching for something more. But you knew better than to ask for it, to beg for the affection and tenderness you craved
For a moment, his eye raked over your naked form, taking in the marks he'd left on your skin, the way your body trembled in the aftermath of your shared pleasure.
But then, as quickly as the moment had come, it passed. Silco straightened, his expression closing off and hiding the small bit of tenderness you could see once in him, becoming once again the cold, calculating man you knew him to be.
He passed you some tissues, "Clean yourself up," he ordered, his voice clipped and businesslike. "And donât forget to tell your group to stay off what itâs not theirs"
With that, he turned and strode towards the door, leaving you lying there on the desk, exposed and vulnerable. You watched him go, a confusing mix of emotions swirling within you. There was the lingering heat of your shared passion, the ache of your body as it remembered his touch. But beneath it all was a growing sense of emptiness, a longing for something more than the cold, clinical coupling you'd just experienced.
You knew Silco was not a man given to tenderness or affection. He was a survivor, a fighter, a man who took what he wanted and moved on without a second thought. And yet, even knowing this, even understanding the futility of your desires, you couldn't help but wish for more.
With a sigh, you pushed yourself up from the desk, wincing slightly as your sore muscles protested the movement. You grabbed your discarded clothes, pulling them on with shaking hands. As you smoothed your clothes, you couldn't help but wonder what would happen next. You were sure this was not the only time you would be here begging for him after all this.
Only time would tell. But one thing was certain - you were in deep, and there was no turning back now. Silco had claimed you, marked you as his own, and whether he admitted it or not, you knew that you would always be his, no matter how much he tried to deny it.
#silco x reader#silco smut#silco#silco arcane#arcane silco#arcane#arcane smut#arcane s2#silco x you#league of legends#arcane season 2#lol#i need him so bad
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Not to be the little gremlin obsessed with Chappell Roan BUT⌠reader thinking Logan is too cool to want a proper relationship with them, so when things get physical they insist things are just âcasualâ in order to protect themselves from getting hurt. But secretly youâre in love with each other, so honestly, neither of you want things to be casual at all⌠(mutual pining my beloved) please & thank you!! Love you!
ahh hi hi avo I LOVE this song, and this request, and you - I could so see this being a situation that Logan and reader find themselves in. I had so much fun writing this, I hope you like it! (I added a couple winks to the lyrics as well.) đ thank you so much for sending this to me!!!
casual | variant!logan howlett x f!reader
1.2k | posessive!logan, fwb(???), use of alcohol, mutual pining, references to oral sex and PiV.
It doesnât matter that your heart flips when you look at him. Itâs Logan. Itâs just casual.
It certainly feels like a dream, watching your worlds collide.
The heft of Loganâs palm fitting into your friends as he shakes their hand - the five of you squeezed into your usual booth in the corner of the bar.
Youâd say the past couple weeks had seemed that way, as well. A late-night dose of bravery spiraling into something so raw and intense and real, that you feel like you could choke on it.
Even now, thereâs heat in your cheeks as your eyes flick his way. Something stirring in your chest at the way his other arm slings across the back of the booth almost possessively.
But like all dreams, there comes a moment where you have to wake up.
Because you know itâs not.
Because you know your feelings arenât requited. How could they be, when itâs Logan youâre talking about?
A legend.
A lone wolf.
Someone important, someone whose name carries a weight. Who saved the world, from what Wade tells you.
And youâre - you.
So even if you know what he looks like beneath that flannel, know what his mouth feels like when it presses against yours - what he sounds like, when he comes - you know that this is nothing.
Itâs casual. A distraction, for both of you.
And if thatâs how it has to be, then youâll do your best to show him youâre cool with it.
You just hadnât expected this moment to come so soon. It had been a genuine offer, your âyou wanna come with?â when the hour rolled around for your weekly trivia night.
Not thinking his head would cock to the side. The look heâd give you - that arched brow, as his fingers splayed out across your bare hip. Still crowded together on your couch, sweat-dewed.
The âsure, sweetheartâ that slipped out.
And now youâre introducing him as your friend - that quick history youâve perfected - rattling off the âyou know, Wade from workâs roommateâ even though Wade didnât work at the dealership anymore.
He had made enough of an impression that none of your friends had forgotten.
And you ignore the bitter jolt in your stomach, when all Logan does is hum.
You think you must have assumed right.
He doesnât correct you.
Logan quickly solidifies himself as an asset to the team. He gets a lot of the history questions that youâve always struggled with. A shy quirk of his lips when your friends cheer, and you get swept along with it.
His hand ending up on your thigh along the way. Squeezing, when you chime in. Almost as if forgetting - itâs easy to, when youâre having fun like this.
A low rasp in your ear, when the host takes a break.
âLemme get you another.â
You can only nod, as he eases out - taking your glass with him.
It only takes a second, before MJâs hand slaps down on yours.
âThatâs Logan?â She hisses - leaning forward, âThe one who-â
âYes.â You cut her off, ignoring the sideways glance her boyfriend gives you.
You never should have told her about that.
Had a hard enough time climbing into your car without thinking about it, yourself - the way he had man-handled you in the passenger seat. Thighs thrown over broad shoulders.
Fingers twined in his hair, as he made you moan in the dark parking garage. Too eager to make it up to your apartment.
She frowns, the words petering out, âBut I thought-â
Your teeth worry at your lower lip.
âYeah. Me too.â You sigh.
MJ knows how much you like him.
Really like him - butterflies, and everything. How itâs been years since you felt this way - slipping from you during that rushed phone call at 6 am the morning after your first night together.
Her eyebrows raise, and itâs a look you know well.
âItâs, you know.â Your hand waves, âItâs casual. Itâs-â
Itâs easier, this way.
Maybe if you keep repeating it, it wonât hurt as much when he moves on.
The look she shoots you is one of pity, just as a drink is set down in front of you.
Your teeth clicking against each other as the words are swallowed. Forcing a smile as Logan slips back in the booth next to you.
The next round starts a moment after, and itâs a welcome reprieve.
You miss the way his eyes narrow, as yours fix firmly on scorecard in front of you.
But you donât miss the way his hands stay folded on top of the table, for the rest of the night.
You suppose he must have remembered where he was.
âYou wanna come up?â
He lingers outside your apartment door, hands jammed into his pockets. That look from the bar is back - all dark, narrowed eyes.
A low sound in his throat, close to a scoff.
âThat what you want, sweetheart?â
Your eyebrows raise, âWell, yeah. I mean-, thatâs what we usually do, right?â
Heâs spent just about every night at your apartment. His things still scattered across your room. A leather jacket slung across the chair thatâs tucked against your vanity.
Loganâs lips twist at the edges, eyes dropping.
âSuppose we do.â Those hands slip from his pocket, crossing over his chest, âBack when I thought we knew what we were doing. But nowâŚâ
His head shakes. A tick in his jaw.
Your stomach drops.
âWhat do you mean?â
Logan huffs, âThe bar, baby. Is that how you really feel?â
A step closer, until heâs caging you in. Voice dropping, rough and low - near gritted out.
âDoes this,â His fingers flick between your chest and his, âfeel casual to you?â
Your heartbeat gallops behind your ribs.
âI thought-,â You manage, âThought thatâs what you wanted.â
Heâs too close, now. The dip of his head, those eyes burning in their shades of brown and gold.
âNow, why would you think that?â
You swallow, âBecause youâre you, and Iâm-â
âYouâre?â He prompts, but you go silent.
A sigh, when your head dips.
Unable to say it out loud.
âDriving me crazy all night, you know that?â He rasps, âGiving me those looks. Calling me your friend, when we both know your mouth was around my cock this morning.â
A low rumble in his throat, âWhen I still taste like you.â
Your breath hitches, as his hand thumbs at your jaw, tilting it up.
âLemme ask you again.â His mouth is close enough now to ghost against yours, âIs that how you really feel?â
Your head shakes.
âWanna be yours.â
Itâs breathed out, just as he kisses you.
His body pressing flush, as your hands twine around his neck. A palm around the back of his neck, pulling him closer as he deepens it.
Desire thrumming to life inside you, washing out the dregs of insecurity that youâve been carrying this whole time. Melting them away completely with the hungry sweep of his tongue, the way he swallows your soft moan.
Thereâs a flash of white when he finally leans back, with the curve of his lips.
âGood.â
His hand closes around the knob. A rough twist, as his another arm wraps around your waist.
Walking you backwards, into the dark.
âThen let me show you exactly how I feel.â
thank you so much, again!! đ
#logan howlett x reader#logan howlett x you#logan howlet smut#wolverine x reader#logan howlett fanfiction#requests#avocado-writes#eupheme answers#xmen x reader
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i dont think anyones mentioned the dialogue about the rope in the cockpit. and i just wanna yap about it, bc i end up thinking about it every time i play. it doesnt even matter i just think about it.
curly's comments on the rope:
jimmy's comments on the rope:
things that i think about:
50 credits must be like. 5-20 dollars. i cannot see jimmy seriously betting 50 dollars if he could lose that. altho if everything went Fine but jimmy still lost the bet, he would totally just say something like i wasnt being serious lol or i dont remember saying that (and curly would drop it). if jimmy would win the bet and still remembers he made it, he would still expect curly to pay out (and he would)
curly thinks about jimmy with a lot of nostalgia/humor. its several months since the ship set off, and i imagine this is something jimmy brought up somewhat early on, as its mundane shoot the shit type talking and slight irritation at the job while checking stock of their supplies. something about jimmy not caring about what pony express stocks on the ship. lol why would we even need a rope. weve never touched this. i bet we never even Use it for an entire year. and curly still leaves space for the interaction in his mind.
curly has a memory of the friendship between him and jimmy when he thinks about the rope, but jimmy seemingly never reminisces about the same thing. in his mind jimmy only regards things that he cares about, and the rope is something that only exists to him when hes frustrated at it (when they first made the bet), or when needs it (the door/swansea). he may honestly not even remember he made that comment to curly. it certainly isnt as important to jimmy as it was to curly. which is interesting because this is something hes currently Winning. he has this over curly right now. why doesnt he savor this little victory over curly, if not that hes totally forgotten this moment between them?
curly also admits in good humor to himself that hes loosing. like hes also not really wanting to play in the game jimmy set up, if he felt like he wanted to win against jimmy he could easily find a reason to take the rope out. he could even just be trying to let jimmy win. letting jimmy win the bet would be easier in his mind than him winning and risking jimmy getting upset. he can reminisce the bonding moment between them at pony express, and leave it at that.
jimmy thinks the rope is Strong only when he needs it. he only thinks to compliment/describe it when he can get something from it. this is also very on the nose for jimmy. i keep wanting to come back to jimmy voice. its so blunt and straightforward but its filled to the brim with personality, especially when comparing it to curly. the protagonist's blunt descriptions of his point and click environment is standard until you get to see how curly interacts with his environment and realize damn this guy doesnt give a fuck about anything.
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