#why is the ask button on blogs so close to the other buttons

[misty-gold]

Weh

[strangerstilinski]

𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐤𝐢 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝟏𝟖+

𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐩𝐭. 1 — 𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐞

minors/ageless blogs please DNI.

REBLOGS are important. please reblog to share.

| 𝐩𝐭. 𝟏 | ⋆ | 𝐩𝐭. 𝟐 | ⋆ | 𝐩𝐭. 𝟑 | ⋆ | 𝐩𝐭. 𝟒 |

You'd both sworn. You'd sworn that you wouldn't subject yourselves to sex in the Jeep ever again. Not after the last time ended with so many unnecessary injuries between the two of you. Following one rolled ankle, a noticeable egg on the back of your head, and a bruise to Stiles' elbow that had been so worryingly dark that the purple had been mottled with spots nearly black in color, it was decided that handjobs were fine, blowjobs were great, fingering was.. sufficient. But full-out sex — You had sworn, never again. And, yet..

You can't find it in yourself to care when the dizzying warmth of Stiles' breath falls against your spit slick, kiss swollen lips. Your mouths have separated only as a result of the way he's trying to maneuver you into a better position, a closer position, large hands encasing your waist as he drags you over to straddle his lap. The moment you've settled against his thighs, his hands are already pushing their way up underneath your skirt, fingers hooking into the waistband of your panties as his mouth finds its way to your cheek, your jaw, your neck.

And fuck if your own hands aren't already scrambling to undo the button on his jeans, tearing them open and pushing up on your knees just enough that you two of you can work his pants and boxers down his thighs just a few inches.

His cock springs free, already almost fully hard with the anticipation of what's to come, and your mouth nearly waters at the sight. You will never tire of the sight of Stiles' cock, you're sure of it. When your hand wraps around him, your fingers don't meet, and when you give the fat length of him a gentle tug, he groans deliciously into the skin of your throat, hips jerking up as he chases the feeling.

“Hey, slow down, why don'tcha?” Stiles teases softly, “Why're you in such a hurry, huh? Got somewhere else to be or-” He cuts off with another quiet groan as you twist your wrist the way he likes, “Or something?”

“Shush, you.” You reply with a smacking kiss to his mouth.

His fingers are moving in a teasing touch beneath your skirt, skimming the sensitive skin of your belly before finding home on your thighs. He gives the softness a pinch just hard enough to have you gasping before he's slipping beneath the fabric to drag long fingers between your folds.

“Shit, babe,” Stiles groans, his lips finding your cheek again before he drops a light kiss to your chin, “You're this wet already?” He asks, as if you haven't been working each other up for the last twenty minutes with heated touches and even hotter kisses.

He punctuates his question by slipping two fingers inside you in a ridiculously easy glide, the stretch making your eyebrows pull together as your jaw falls slack. He's giving you shallow thrusts, trying to open you up a little and get you ready for what will come next, and your free hand falls to his arm, tethering yourself with fingers circling his wrist in a firm grip. The way the muscles in his arm work with each drag out and then back in has your fingernails digging little crescent moons beneath the dark hairs on his forearm.

Your head is thrown back in pleasure, and it feels like it might weigh a million pounds when you drag it forward again to drop your forehead to his, your hips rocking down onto his fingers and your hand still working him to full hardness, closing over the head of his cock and collecting his precome just to slip back down his length again and again.

It had been days of longing glances across crowded rooms, and lingering touches that were a little unnecessary but desperately craved, and pushing maybe a little too far into each other's space when one of you needed to grab something just to feel the sparks along your skin. Each tiny moment shared had built upon one another slowly, day after day, and now that you're together, skin on skin and teeth and tongues on lips — that fire between you finally burns bright again.

You're both panting a little breathlessly already, worked up beyond belief after not finding moment alone like this in what feels like ages. Hot breaths mingle between your parted lips, the sound of it broken up by the quiet little noises clawing their way up your throats.

You've missed him desperately amidst the chaos that the week has brought. You find yourself wanting him to wreck you beyond repair, to turn your brain inside out until he is all that remains — no stresses about infuriating assholes in the form of college professors, or pack disputes, or the supernatural threat of the week — and the way Stiles continues to work his fingers inside you, pushing in deep until he's caressing that spot that makes your vision white out a bit at the edges, you think he's well on his way toward that wreckage.

“Condom?” You question desperately, tugging at his wrist in signal for him to extract himself from you.

He's muttering to himself while he fumbles to get access to where his back pocket is scrunched up beneath his thighs and you push up onto your knees all the while, maneuvering your underwear down one leg and then the other until you're free of them. When he produces the little foil packet, you take it from him without prompt, tearing it open and rolling it down over him in a quick, practiced motion that has him biting his lips together to hold back a curse.

Stiles slides his hips down the seat a bit further and grips the backs of your thighs to support you as you guide his tip to your entrance. The moment you start to sink down, his fingers dig into the doughy flesh of your thighs, fingertips curling below the curve of your ass to help spread you wider as he fills you up nice and slow.

“You got it, baby,” Stiles praises quietly, lips catching against your cheekbone to leave a small peck to your flushed skin, “There y'go.”

You're shuddering through your breaths as you accommodate to the stretch, knowing that every inch just a precursor to where he's thickest at the base. It's slow going, painful and delicious all at once, but when your hips finally meet his, clit nestling right up against the thatch of hair that trails from his belly button down to where you're connected, you let out a breathy sigh of relief.

Now that you're seated, his hands leave your backside to skate higher, rough fingertips dragging up to the back of your skirt to massage at your spine. You feel him fiddle with the zip at the back, his eyes meeting yours in silent question before you're nodding and he's giving it a tug and freeing you from the thick fabric.

You can't help but look down, and that first glimpse of where you've sucked him in, where he's filling you to the brim, has you eagerly rocking your hips a little to test the stretch. There's still a bit of an ache, a sharp little sting where you're stretched the widest, but it's lessening already and you can feel that pleasurable fullness behind your navel settling in.

“Almost,” You update him quietly, combing your fingers through the strands of his hair and grinning softly when he cranes into your touch, “Jus' need another minute.”

“Take as much time as you need,” He returns earnestly, “You know I'm just enjoying gettin' you like this. Missed you. This week was the worst.”

And it truly has been. Nearly every minute of every day, start to finish, has been an onslaught of lectures and assignments due and pack bullshit that you're both inevitably dragged into every goddamn time — the presence of the token pack humans always necessary if only to give another perspective to a mundane issue that, really, probably could've been solved by your brother and his co-alpha alone. Scott and Derek really shouldn't need to drag the two of you into every little problem — which in turn would leave the two of you with ample time to sneak off somewhere to do this, perhaps in a bed, without the risk of bonked heads or twisted ankles or the bruises that came with ravishing each other in such close confines. And yet, and yet.

You nod in agreement, fingers tangling in the hair at his nape to give it a soft tug, “Been so busy with classes. N' there've been way, way too many pack meetings,” You complain in a quiet huff, “Not enough time for this..” He grumbles his own agreement as your thumb finds the large beauty mark beneath his ear, “I missed you too.” You return softly.

Stiles is patient as ever, his fingers taking the time to explore every bit of exposed skin on your body with a gentle touch. His arms circle your waist only to release you a second later to run his warm palms up your spine and give your shoulders a squeeze. His movements slow for a moment when he finds the band of your bra, pinching and unclasping it in a practiced motion, and then his big hands are making their way back to the front of your ribs, thumbs dragging against the soft underside of your breasts as he dips his head to press kisses to the newly exposed skin.

You lean back a bit to give him more space to work, savoring in the feeling of his mouth peppering soft kisses over your breasts as your own hands fall from his neck to rest on his pecs. Your fingers trail over dark freckles that dot his skin, nails scraping ever so gently into the patch of hair at the center of his chest.

Even with the windows cracked to let in a bit of the crisp autumnal air, the temperature in the Jeep creeps higher, the windows already fogged over with a thin sheen of condensation that smears lightly when you brace your right hand against the window. Five little streaks through the microscopic drops of water covering the cool glass, one to mark where each of your fingers scrape across the surface as you finally rise up onto your knees.

A pitiful little grunt falls from your lips as you drop back down, the sound pushed out with the sheer depth that his cock manages to reach in this position, so full that you can nearly taste him at the back of your throat.

You settle into a slow rhythm and Stiles grabs a hold of your hips as you do, but he's not guiding you, no. He's not aiming for control, not pushing you to go harder or faster, but rather simply holding on and following your movements, his thumbs tracing little concentric circles against the sides of you belly as you go at your own pace.

“Fuck,” You groan when your knees slip a little against the leather seat. It pushes him impossibly deeper than before, driving his tip against your cervix in a way that erupts goosebumps along your skin even in the warm car. “You’re so deep. 'S so big, baby. You're so big-”

You're not even sure what's coming out of your mouth, already a little drunk on the feeling of being filled so completely, on the slick drag every time you rise up and then the sharp jolt to every one of your nerve endings with each thrust back down. Despite the ramblings falling from your lips, or perhaps because of them, Stiles begins to make little noises of his own — guttural moans against the curve of your throat, quiet grunts each time he hits deep.

He tips his head back and the warm brown in his eyes is almost completely taken over by black with how his pupils have blown wide. You catch sight of a small bead of sweat as it works its way out of his hair and begins a slow trail down his temple but you're kissing it away before it can reach his cheekbone. The salt of it lingers on your lips when your tongue runs over them just a moment later.

Dark eyes watch you move with rapt attention, his lips parted to let out low groans of encouragement. It takes a few minutes for him to find his voice, but when he does, his words send heat flooding through you.

“So good,” He tells you, hand tucking a lock of sweat-dampened hair behind your ear before his wide palm settles against the side of your neck, his voice thick with arousal, “Always so good. You're- Shit, y're so tight. So warm. So perfect.”

The thumb resting at the bottom of your cheek creeps up higher, rubbing the plush of your bottom lip until your jaw falls slack in acceptance and then he's cupping your chin and pushing the pad of his finger down against the softness of your tongue. You bite down softly with a moan and your bottom teeth dig into the meat of his palm with just how deep he's got his thumb before you're pulling off just a little and closing your lips around it, sucking and swirling your tongue and reeling at the way his eyes flutter shut with a groan, like he can't quite handle the sight in combination with the way you're riding him slow and deep.

When he removes his thumb, you suck harder to combat the spit that threatens to cling to the digit, but it doesn't make much of a difference because he's already sliding his hand around the back of your neck and bringing your mouth down against his.

You brace one hand on his stomach to aid your moments as your tongues meet in a hungry kiss. A whimper finds its way up your throat when he rubs his free hand achingly slow up and down the front of your thigh, around to grope your ass and then back, smoothing and squeezing along your skin like he wants to be touching you more — Harder, tighter, everywhere all at once.

He's so, so deep like this and you can tell it's affecting him too. His kisses are hungry as he licks into your mouth, a little messy while his nose presses into your cheek and his fingers graze your waist on their journey toward your chest. He's thumbing over the peaks of your nipples, swallowing up your moans with his own, breathing a little like he's the one getting the air punched out of his lungs every time you seat yourself, burying him deep enough that the head of his cock is driving into that spot that makes you see stars.

Your brain goes a little hazy with your budding orgasm, tiny noises becoming more frequent, falling against his mouth a bit like a plea. You don't need to explain, Stiles is already dragging his hand up to push between your thighs, thumb circling your clit the way he knows you like. Your eyebrows furrow as you slip from the kiss, far too focussed on chasing your high now. You bounce a little faster, shallower, fingers scraping at the pale skin of his chest, eyes pinched shut as your thighs tremble with exertion and your knees ache.

Heat licks across your body, a bead of sweat trickling down your spine as your movements start to become a little more difficult. You're so close — so close-

“C'mon, you're doing so good, baby.” Stiles says with far too much tenderness, far too much amazement.

“Fuck,” You whimper, shaky breaths tearing from your chest as you teeter closer and closer, “Fuckfuckfuck-”

“You got it. You can do it. C'mon-”

His gentle praises send you careening over the edge and your whole body shakes as you try to work through it. You're struggling, but then Stiles' hands are under your ass again, guiding you this time, gripping the backs of your thighs tight as he supports some of your weight and helps you ride out your high. Every nudge of his cock against the deepest parts of you has you moaning louder, brain going a little fuzzy as your orgasm peaks but never quite dies off.

Your arms curl around his shoulders, digging your face into his neck as you gasp against his skin, thighs shaking as he keeps guiding you back and forth, not pulling out nearly as far now before he's dragging you against him and filling you back up. Your breasts are pushed tight against his chest. The smell of his aftershave is in your nose and your forehead is pressed into his sweat slicked neck. You're panting, nearly drooling on his shoulder as you try to lock your knees to hold yourself in place, thighs feeling exhausted and like jelly all at once.

“Sti. Fuck, baby, I can't-” A moan cuts you off as it rolls off your tongue, “My legs can't-”

“Aw, your legs too tired, baby girl?” He asks, and it comes out a little condescending. You can practically see the satisfied little smirk on his face, even from where your own is buried in his neck as you nod. He lifts you up a little higher, hands still grasping at the crease where your thighs meet your ass as he adjusts his hips beneath you, “Need me to do the work now?”

The teasing in his voice has your body going traitorously pliant, your voice weak when it finally comes, “Please.”

“I got you,” Stiles promises, taking a little pity. He drags one hand toward the center of your spine while the other falls to the outside of your knee to hold you steady, “I got you..”

The first thrust up into you has you crying out. Not hitting nearly as deep as before, but he's driving in so much harder, so much faster. It pulls whiny little gasps from your lips with each thrust and your jaw's gone slack where it's buried in his neck as his skin slaps against yours with every snap of his hips. The sound of it is loud, and the combination of noises both lewd and salacious only proves to turn you on that much more.

“Shit.” Stiles grunts, voice a little hoarse and yet somehow high as it catches in his throat, “You make the prettiest noises, baby. Fuck. Just listen t' you.”

You don't entirely mean for it, but your next moan is just a little louder in response, unabashed and desperate even as you attempt to muffle the sound of it in the curve of his shoulder. The pitch his voice has taken is one that you only get to hear when he's getting unbearably close to his own peak. The sound of it is so, so sweet to your ears, mingling with the obscenely wet glide of his cock sliding in and out of you.

“'M gonna come,” He warns, his hips jerking just a bit rougher, a bit less coordinated as he fucks up into you, “Shit. Shit, sweetheart, 'm.. gonna.. come-”

His arms curl and lock around your waist as he does, dragging you down against him and burying himself so deep that it has you crying out again, fingers digging into his shoulders where your arms have curled under his to hold tight. He comes with a moan and a grunt that both get muffled with the way his face is now hidden in your hair, his cock kicking up inside you as he releases into the condom.

The increased stimulation against your sensitive walls has you going a little teary in the best way, overwhelmed but loving every moment of it, and you roll your hips over him despite the soreness in your thighs just to hear the way he groans in response.

You pull back just enough to lock your fingers in the hair at his nape and tug him into a sweet kiss, it's warm and a little sweaty as your lips slide together but it's also so full of unspoken thanks and emotion and undeclared love.

When you lean back again to collectively catch your breath, his thumb finds your wet eyelashes and swipes at them gently.

“Oh- hey, you good?” He checks with concern, his free hand already at your waist and drawing soft patterns along your skin, “You okay?”

You turn your head into the hand on your cheek and press a kiss to the center of his palm, scraping at his scalp beneath sweat-dampened locks, “I'm good,” You promise, “Gonna be sore as fuck tomorrow though, God.”

A smirk finds its way onto his face, “Fucked you so good you're gonna have trouble walkin', huh?”

“Shut up,” You huff, a laugh slipping out in contradiction to your weak display of annoyance, “But with the way my thighs feel right now? Yeah.”

You wince as you push up onto your knees, both from the ache left behind as he slips out and from the soreness in your legs. When you rise up a little higher, your head hits the roof with a painful thump and you can't bite back a curse.

Stiles is quick to bring a hand up to the back of your head with a sympathetic wince, cradling the tender spot on your skull softly, “Oh, shit, y'alright?”

“Ow,” You respond with a pout, your own hand reaching back to cover his over your hair, “Stupid Jeep n' stupid metal roof..”

“Hey,” Stiles frowns, “Don't blame the Jeep, alright? It's not Roscoe's fault you bumped your head.”

“Is too.”

It comes out in a huff and Stiles chuckles in amusement at your disgruntled expression as he slips his hands under your thighs to help you dismount from his lap completely. You fall into the seat beside him and drop your calves over his knees, bumping your forehead against his shoulder in a silent gesture of gratitude.

After a few long minutes wrapped up in each other as you collect yourselves, you both gather your haphazardly discarded clothing and redress. Stiles digs out a new air freshener from the glove compartment and adds it to the hoard of them already hanging from the rearview mirror. Another little tree to the collection, this one a pretty shade of purple and smelling of berries, dropping to sit right atop number of similarly shaped scented hangers in a wide array of colors.

And later, when you're forced to part ways, you push up onto your toes as you lean back in through the driver's side window of the Jeep for one final kiss. The breeze is cool against your thighs as it catches beneath your skirt, goosebumps causing you to tighten your fingers around the window frame as you prepare to lean back. Stiles has a hand coming up to the back of your neck to hold you in place at the first sign that you're about to pull away, stretching the kiss out for as long as he can get away with. It's a sickly sweet press of lips. One that will hopefully be enough to hold you over until you get the chance to have him like this again.

A glance over your shoulder as you walk away has your gaze meeting Stiles one last time, elation and melancholy both pulling at the edges of your lips until you're left with a saccarine smile to pair with your tiny wave goodbye. Your fingers come up to brush your lips as you begin to turn away, and when you extend your hand in his direction Stiles nearly throws himself out the open window to catch the invisible kiss that you've sent his way. His unnecessary enthusiasm has you stifling a giggle as you finally turn your back to him and make your way down the street.

You're forced to jog around the block from where Stiles has dropped you a safe distance from your house, hopping into the shower the moment you get home to wash away any and all evidence of the afternoon from your skin.

It's with skin scrubbed clean and a heavy heart that you head to the washing machine and dump your clothes inside to extinguish the lingering smell of Stiles that you know clings to the fabric, of you and Stiles, together.

And when Scott pauses the load mid-wash with the intention of throwing a shirt in, your brother is sure to complain about the way you've pointedly used the scented detergent — the overpowering artificial smell of lavender much too strong an irritant to his overly-sensitive, supernatural, wolfy nose — But, you remind yourself, if you want to keep up this thing with Stiles, which you desperately do, then that's just how this has to go, because, well.

𝐒 𝐜 𝐨 𝐭 𝐭 𝐲 𝐃 𝐨 𝐞 𝐬 𝐧 ' 𝐭 𝐊 𝐧 𝐨 𝐰 .

𝐚/𝐧; 𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐝!𝐌𝐜𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠!! 𝐢 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬. 𝐢 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐭𝐦 — 𝐬𝐨 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐚𝐧 𝐞𝐲𝐞 𝐨𝐮𝐭, 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐞𝐬.

again, REBLOGS are important.

please have the curtesy to reblog to share/save your ur fave fics.

[kwanisms]

Kinktober 「10:10」 — j.yunho

» ateez menu | yunho menu | kinktober masterlist «

➮ wereleopard!Yunho × fem!Reader wc: 3.3k summary: Yunho hadn’t been on a date in ages when he managed to land a date with his cute coworker, Y/N. Cue one awkward first date and a handful of other successful ones, Yunho feels like he’s starting to settle into his growing relationship. The only thing holding him back is that his girlfriend is so small and it drives him mad with the desire to pin her down and unleash his inner beast. He finally comes clean when Y/N asks him why they aren’t more intimate. genres/themes/au: angst/fluff/smut; supernatural, horror, thriller; non idol au, monster idol au warnings: adult dialogue, female reader, reader is smaller than yunho by a lot mention of alcohol consumption, supernatural and horror themes, mentions of: caffeine consumption (coffee lol), office dynamics, work relationships, coworkers to lovers, leopard mating habits in the wild (lol); sexual content (18+ mdni), see smut warnings under the cut! taglist has been moved to reblogs join my taglists! kinktober taglist is closed! Strikethrough means I cannot tag you.  MINORS WILL BE BLACKLISTED & BLOCKED. AGELESS BLOGS WILL ALSO BE BLOCKED.

a/n: i had a lot of fun with this one and like i mention in the smut warnings under the cut, Yunho's cock is... less than human lol. if that bothers you, don't read this. I'm not called monsterfucker for no reason! i don't really have much else to say about this so thank you for reading and as always, this is a work of fiction and all characters are not reflective of their respective irl counterparts. for entertainment purposes only.

smut warnings: teratophilia (aka monsterfucking), size kink, praise (f receiving), unprotected sex (use condoms pls), use of pet names (baby, babe, sweetheart, kitty, little one, etc), dom!Yunho, sub!Reader, Yun has a huge d!ck (because of course he does), biting (f receiving), scratching (f receiving), non-human genitalia (because he’s a werecat, he has a barbed d!ck. Does it make sense? No. Do I care? Also no. don’t like it, don’t read it ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ i’m not responsible for your media consumption lol), I think that’s all but just let me know if I missed something. kinks: Size kink + praise dialogue prompt: ❛❛ Try to stay quiet for me, kitten. Can you do that? ❜❜

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Being a werecat had its advantages and its disadvantages.

For instance, Yunho was extremely agile, light on his feet, and fast despite his large stature. All positives in his book. He was always the fastest and most graceful in gym class. Everything athletic came naturally to him. 

The cons were it was rough on his dating life. In his teens, he didn’t even bother dating because he was too busy with school and sports but when he finished college and started working, dating became a strange and foreign landscape for him.

Until he met you of course.

When he first encountered you in the break room, he froze upon seeing your tiny frame at the coffee maker. He’d been working at the office for six months by that point and he’d never seen you before. The moment you turned away from the counter, stirring your mug of coffee, and your locked eyes with him, Yunho knew it was all over for him.

You were quite possibly the most beautiful person he’d ever seen, your light makeup and soft lip color. The cream and black button down blouse with sheer sleeves and the tight black pencil skirt that hit just below your knees, hugging and showing off your curves had him weak in the knees.

He was doomed before you even opened your mouth.

You quickly introduced yourself, stepping forward to shake his hand. The feeling of your tiny hand in his was one he would not forget easily. You were so small compared to him. It ignited within him the desire to protect you from the entire office. 

He learned you were part of the IT department while he worked in human resources. You were a transfer from another location of the same company and had just started a few days ago. Yunho took you under his wing immediately despite having only been there a few months but he knew if he didn’t act now, someone else might beat him to it.

You started taking your lunches together and sending messages back and forth. Yunho started to show you around the city when you were off work and you became fast friends.

That friendship for him blossomed quickly into a work crush but he never in a million years thought you might also like him and so when he overheard you telling another coworker about your work crush, his heart sank, thinking you had developed feelings for someone else.

It wasn’t until he heard you say his name that he perked up and realized that you liked him back.

It took him an embarrassingly long time to work up the courage to ask you out and when he finally did, you accepted his invitation for dinner immediately. He’d worried himself so much with you potentially rejecting him, despite knowing you had a crush on him, that he didn’t even have a plan in place for the date but he quickly mapped it all out, scoring a reservation at a really nice place near the river.

Dinner was amazing, the food was spectacular, the conversation was flowing as was the wine and afterwards, the two of you found yourselves walking by the river, admiring the lights of the city. Yunho wanted more than anything to hold your hand and when he finally took the plunge and took your hand in his, he was a goner.

The date ended with him walking you to the bus stop and you had ask him to bend down so you could kiss his cheek before boarding the bus bound for home. Yunho had ridden that high for the rest of the weekend leading into the following Monday and safe to say, he was already smitten.

One date turned into two, which turned into another and soon the two of you agreed to be exclusive. There were thankfully no rules in place that prohibited dating coworkers so long as the two parties weren’t in the same department which you and Yunho were not so it was allowed.

Months flew by and while your relationship progressed romantically and emotionally, physically was another story. That’s not to say you hadn’t kissed. Of course you had. Yunho loved nothing more than kissing you, especially when you were perched on his lap but it never progressed past that.

Yunho was afraid of hurting you. He was quite large, not just in stature. His nature as a wereleopard also meant that he was a great deal more… animalistic. He didn’t have normal human parts. Just like a male cat had spikes on its penis, Yunho had similar protrusions, albeit not as sharp but he knew that it couldn’t be comfortable, having those raking against the inside of your body.

On top of that, he was afraid he might be too rough with you. So as much as he didn’t want to, he often pulled back when things got a little too heated.

It was no different as he sat on your couch, having come over with take out on a Friday night, your designated date nights. That night it was a night in with take out and a show the two of you had gotten into together. Empty takeout containers sat on the coffee table along with a half empty bottle of wine and empty wine glasses.

The tv played softly in the background as you sat perched on Yunho’s lap, fingers twisting through his hair gently as your lips moved against one another, tongues meeting in a languid dance, neither seeking control. His large hands held your tiny waist as you moaned into his mouth, grinding lightly against him.

Yunho had started the evening with an erection, covering it with one of your blankets while you ate and watched TV but when you climbed on top of him, he couldn’t hide it anymore as it strained against his pants, begging for release. When you rolled your hips again, pulling away to leave a trail of kisses down the column of his neck, Yunho finally spoke up.

“Baby,” he croaked, voice hoarse from having not used it in a long while. “Hmm?” you hummed, kisses down to the spot where his neck and shoulder met, a sweet spot of his. You pulled the collar of his shirt away to kiss and nip at the spot, making his mind go blank briefly.

“I-” Yunho let out a moan as your tongue ran along the exposed skin. “I should probably get going.”

You raised your head, lips brushing against his ear. “Why?” you whispered. “Tomorrow is Saturday,” you reminded him. “We don’t work tomorrow.” You pressed soft, wet kisses on the underside of his jaw, one of your hands sliding from his hair down his chest. “You could finally sleep over,” you murmured as your hand continued its path, one that was heading right for the front of his jeans.

“I-I…” Yunho was grasping for a reason to not spend the night despite the fact that he so desperately wanted to. God did he want to spent the night so fucking bad. He wanted more than anything to take you to bed, make love to you and wake up next to you in the morning.

“Please spend the night, Yuyu,” you cooed softly, fingers moving to undo the button of his jeans. Yunho snapped out of it and firmly pushed you back, holding you steadily on his lap as he looked at you with wide eyes. You stared at him in confusion. He could only imagine what was going through your head.

“It’s not a good idea,” he finally said. Your expressions shifted from confusion to dejected as he rejected your advances yet again. ‘Fuck. Don’t look at me like that.’ He hated telling you no, especially when he wanted the exact opposite. “I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he said softly. “It’s just…” he trailed off, knowing there was no easy way to explain his reluctance to you.

Never did he expect that you thought the problem was you.

“Do you not want me?”

Your question paired with the crestfallen look on your face made his heart break.

“You think I don’t want you?” he asked softly, moving a hand to cup your cheek. “Baby,” he said with a sigh as you leaned into his touch. “I want you so bad. I want you so bad it hurts,” he continued. “I’m just trying to protect you.” Your eyes opened to look at him. “Protect me?” you asked. “From what?”

Yunho let out a heavy sigh. “From me.”

Your brows knitted together in confusion. “I don’t understand…” you whispered. Yunho took a deep breath before speaking. “I’m not normal, Y/N,” he started, taking your hands in his, pressing his palms against yours before lacing your fingers together. “I’ve told you about the curse,” he explained, looking up as you nodded. “That you’re a wereleopard,” you replied.

“Well, there are things about me that look human and for the most part, I am rather ordinary,” he continued to explain, looking down at your intertwined hands. “But in some ways I’m quite… odd.” You let out an impatient noise, pulling your hands from his and pushing his shoulders back so he was leaning against the back of the couch, you leaning against him as you twisted your fingers into his hair, playing with his locks. “I’d say extraordinary,” you argued with a smile.

Yunho couldn’t help the smile that rose to his face. “You’re sweet,” he said softly, giving you a quick kiss. “But I’m serious,” he added, smile falling. “I wish I could explain it,” he continued with a sigh. “But it’s difficult.” You pressed a couple kisses to his lips and cheek. “Then show me,” you suggested. “Please Yuyu?” you added when he opened his mouth to protest.

“Baby, I don’t want to freak you out. It’s… weird.”

You frowned, sitting up and looking at him. “You are many things, Jeong Yunho, and weird may be one of them but that’s never deterred me before, has it?” you asked, tilting your head. Yunho smiled again, a chuckle rising up from his chest. “No, I suppose it hasn’t.” The smile returned to your face.

“Then just show me,” you repeated. “I promise I won’t go running for the hills.”

Yunho sighed and nodded, guiding you off his lap. “Just, promise me you won’t… freak out?” he asked as he started to undo his jeans. You nodded. “I promise, babe,” you replied, eyes wide with excitement as he undid his jeans, pulling the zipper down slowly. He raised his hips, pushing his jeans halfway down his thighs. 

You could see his cock already straining against his underwear, a dark patch of precum staining the fabric. It made your mouth water and soon you wanted more than to just see it. Yunho took a deep breath before sliding his hand into his boxers, pulling his cock free and your eyes widened as you took in the sight.

It was not what you were expecting. It was mostly human shaped, flesh colored with a bulbous head darker than the rest. A small bead of precum seeping out of the slit. The shaft was pale, veiny like most cocks but what set it apart from the rest were the small bumps around the base of the head. You leaned in closer to inspect, seeing that the bumps were actually pointed.

You looked up at Yunho. “Can I touch it?” you asked softly. Yunho looked surprised by your lack of disgust and that you were more curious and willing to touch him. He nodded, moving his hand to the base of his cock as you reached out a small hand, fingers wrapping around his cock just under the head.

Seeing your tiny hand on his cock nearly sent him over the edge but he managed to keep his composure as your fingers moved, dancing lightly over the head of his cock. “Oh,” you said, sounding surprised as you rubbed the pad of your finger over the spines of his cock. “I thought they would be sharper,” you murmured. Yunho was struggling to keep his breathing steady as you wrapped your fingers around his cock once more. He let out a hiss, head falling back onto the couch cushion.

Curiously, you leaned over, giving the very tip of his cock a lick, cleaning the precum that had gathered there. Yunho let out a gasp, hips bucking as you sat back up, giving him a cheeky smile. “It’s not weird,” you finally said. “I think it’s actually neat,” you added, glancing down at his cock. “I wonder what it feels like,” you added, fingers brushing the spines once more.

“You wanna find out?” Yunho asked, his voice dropping an octave. You looked up at him, meeting his dark gaze. Wordlessly, you nodded. “Yes,” you breathed out as he held out a hand. “God yes,” you exclaimed, taking his hand. He pulled you back onto his lap, pulling you into a kiss as you settled against his cock, the underside pressing against your cloth covered crotch.

“Fuck,” Yunho groaned as you kissed down his neck, fingers moving to undo the buttons of his shirt. Once you had it undone, you pushed the material aside, exposing his toned chest and abs. “C’mere,” he said, grabbing the back of your neck and pulling you into another heated kiss, tongue sliding against yours messily. “One second,” you murmured, pulling away.

Yunho watched as you climbed off him, tucking your thumbs into your shorts and slowly pushing them down, along with your underwear until it fell to your feet. Stepping out of them, you quickly removed your shirt and climbed back onto his lap as he shrugged his own shirt off, having removed his pants and underwear while you were stripping.

“Wait,” Yunho said as you grabbed his cock, lining the tip with your slit. “I need to prep you, baby,” he said as you sat down, sinking on his cock. You let out a moan, taking the head of his cock with ease. “Fuuuuck,” Yunho moaned, head falling back as his hands gripped your waist tightly.

He underestimated how wet you were as your walls enveloped him. “So big,” you moaned, pausing halfway down his shaft. “It’s okay,” Yunho cooed. “Take your time, little one.” You moaned, resting your forehead against his, your hot breaths mixing together as your body slowly adjusted to the massive intrusion.

As you sank further, taking more of his thick cock inside you, the bumps added to the sensation. Each inch stung, a dull burn as your cunt stretched around him. “Fuck, taking me so well, kitty,” he purred, reaching up to cup your cheek. “Can you take more?”

Without answering, you sank further until the tip of his cock was pressed against your cervix. You had taken every single inch without prep like a champ and Yunho would not forget it. Nor would he let you forget it. “Such a good girl, taking all of my cock. It’s like you were made for me.”

Your walls squeezed around him. “Fuck, you’re so tiny,” he said, as his hands moved up your sides. “Such a small little kitty taking my cock like a good girl.” The praise went straight to your core and you wanted more. As you raised your hips, you let out a strained moan, feeling the spines at the base of his cock head lightly rake against your walls.

“Oh holy shit,” you gasped, freezing. Yunho’s hands steadied you. “Are you okay?” he asked breathlessly. You nodded. “It’s different,” you answered. “But I like it.” You continued, more of his cock sliding out of you as the spines scratched the inside of your cunt. You sank back down on him, moaning loudly as the tip of his cock hit your ceRvix.

“F-fuck!” Yunho groaned, fingers digging into your skin as you started to move faster, bouncing on his cock, each pull dragging the spines against your walls and making you cry out. It didn’t hurt but it was definitely a much different feeling. It took ‘ribbed for her pleasure’ to a whole new level.

Your thighs started to burn as you tried your best to keep up but Yunho could tell you were getting tired and your legs were going to give out any moment with the way they were shaking. “Stop,” he gasped. “Let me.” Yunho easily turned, depositing you onto the couch on your back and was sliding back into your walls, as he pushed your thighs to your chest.

You cried out as he thrust into you roughly, feeling the spines on his cock drag against your walls. “Yunnie!” you whined as he fucked you against the couch, the room filling with the sound of his hips hitting yours with each thrust. Your hands moved to his back as he pounded into you, the feeling of his hard cock ramming into your cervix making you cry out.

Yunho let out a growl as he felt your nails raked down his back, the feeling spurring him on. Just as quickly as he started, he pulled out of you. He easily maneuvered you onto your stomach, re-entering you from behind and stilling there as he peppered kisses along your shoulder.

“Try to stay quiet for me, kitten. Can you do that?”

You nodded eagerly but the moment he started moving, you were unable to keep quiet as he slammed into you roughly. He never expected you to actually keep quiet but he thought he might as well try seeing as you had neighbors. They would just have to deal with the noise.

You pushed back to meet his thrusts, making him groan into your neck. You cried out in both pain and pleasure as you felt his teeth sink into your shoulder, his hips never faltering as he fucked you roughly. It was much more raw and animalistic than you’d ever had it but you loved every second of it.

“F-fuck,” you cursed. “M’gonna cum, Yunnie!” 

Your whimpers and moans urged him on, hips snapping against your ass with a renewed vigor as he pushed you towards your orgasm. “That’s it,” he breathed in your ear, letting go of your shoulder and leaving a deep impression of his teeth in your skin. “Cum on my cock like a good kitty.”

Your walls spasmed around him as you came with a cry of his name. He didn’t stop, chasing his own high as he thrust harshly into you until his own orgasm finally washed over him, releasing his cum into you with one final thrust. You let out another moan as his seed filled your cunt and he stayed there, making sure every last drop made it into your spent hole.

As you lay there, panting and covered in sweat, Yunho littered kiss after kiss along your shoulder, licking the spot he’d bitten down on before kiss up your neck and cheek as you turned your face towards him. “That’s why you were keeping from me?” you asked breathlessly with a chuckle.

Yunho laughed, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “I thought you wouldn’t like it,” he admitted. “I can be an animal in bed, or in this case, couch.” You laughed again, letting out a sigh. “Next time, let’s do it on the bed,” you murmured. “More space.” Yunho chuckled. “Give me five and I’ll be ready to go again.” You lifted your head, turning to look at him.

“Again?” you asked, eyes wide. You were exhausted. How was he not? Yunho chuckled as he pressed a kiss to your temple. “I told you,” he replied. “I’m not entirely like normal men. I’m a wereleopard.” He turned your face towards him, pulling you into a kiss as you felt his cock start to harden within your walls.

“And in the wild, leopards mate up to over two hundred times over a few days,” he added between kisses. He pulled back to look at you with a devious smile.

“And we have all weekend, sweetheart.”

©️ kwanisms 2024 | all works on this blog are protected under copyright. Do not repost, continue, or translate my works. All graphics made by me.

[bunicate]

rambling abt diluc’s relationship with his sister from the maid, adelinde’s pov ♡ im pretti sure dis was an ask I received on my old blog too ! !

adelinde didn’t have much expected of her besides her daily cleanings and the occasional rotation of taking out the trash, but recently she’s been burdened with the task of looking after you.

you’re a troublesome girl to tend to.

she would never say it out loud or let her feelings show, but master diluc had you spoiled rotten. you were the only one allowed to disturb him in his study and demand the most menial things for the sake of his attention. 

you're often half-naked and oversleeping when you weren't bothering him.

she frequently dresses you, and brushes your hair so you could look presentable in front of your brother, and you would insist on only the shortest dresses and skirts. or flat out refuse to have your blouse buttoned all the way. she wouldn’t dare to speak out of turn, but your bosom was nearly visible at all times. 

she doesn’t acknowledge her master's subtle glances towards the swell of your chest, or his hand that rests too closely to your bottom.

you both were closer than most siblings. that she knows, the other maids all witnessed it but wouldn’t speak of it lest their master would catch them.

it was an enjoyable job, and it would be a shame to lose it because diluc caught their loose lips flapping away.

adelinde was quick to regard the interactions as siblings who simply cherished each other.

although you’re a handful, you’re also sweet and thoughtful, and she could see why diluc treated you as such. she often helps you clean up your messes from making strawberry tarts, and other little gifts that you give diluc. by the end of the day, you’d be exhausted, and each time she’d lay a blanket over your slumbering body when you waited up late for diluc.

she’d watch you until she’s interrupted by her master's arrival. 

“thank you, adelinde. you may go for the night. i’ll take care of her from here,” he’d say.

like routine, she’d bow.

“well then. goodnight master diluc.”

she would watch him slowly collect your body within his grasp, gentle enough not to disturb you from slumber. 

he’d pull back the hair that obstructs your face and adelinde could never forget the look of utter tenderness that seeped into his visage.

a certain kind of love unbinds the furrow of his brow and eases the tension in his broad shoulders. his figure would then disappear into your room, and that would be the last she saw of you both for the night. 

the next day when adelinde knocks on your door to come in, and you’re already awake.

your pajamas are revealing as always. a skimpy underwear and a strapless cotton top. your hair covers it, but she makes out the bruise on your neck, and she ignores it.

she tries not to appear uncomfortable when you walk downstairs in the same attire and diluc don't even seem phased. he just puts you on the kitchen counter, feeding you blueberries for breakfast.

touches and the palatable air isn’t enough to jump to conclusions, but she supposes she no longer had a choice anymore when she mistakenly walks into the living room and witnesses such a sweltering kiss.

her master trails his hands on the cheeks of your butt, groping the flesh while he buried his tongue in your mouth. 

adelinde is stunned at the sight. her master was kissing his little sister. 

a sensation she’s unfamiliar with runs down her body. his tongue is so much larger than yours, wrapping around your smaller one, swallowing your breathy cries. his hands cup your face, and it’s then she realizes how large those gloved fingers really are.

carefully, she watches them trail downwards, slipping into his pants to pull out his thickening and leaky member. 

adelinde , felt fear and a tinge of arousal.

he was going to insert his cock between your folds. your pretty silken folds, that sweltered with lust. his dick was hard and angry, and your body looked too perfect — too delicate to be touched.

adelinde licked her lips as diluc entered inside of you. your back arches and your tits jiggle from the comedown of his hips. he fucks into you at a rapid pace, and the sound of wetness on his cock destabilizes the maid's ability to react appropriately.

the moistness is audible between the slaps of skin and the loud cries.

the sheets darken with sweat and cum. your skin is bitten and then kissed, and your moans reverberate in the same room.

the air is hot and sticky and adelinde feels a knot in her belly. she quickly darts out into the corridor and begins to dread the following day. anxiety pricks at her skin at the fear of facing you both once more.

she knows that she’ll have to clean you up in the morning and face the dark truth about her master and his younger sister.

[dilf-docs]

Misery Reigns My Lonely Neon Nights

old man!logan x younger fem!reader

summary: logan should've said no. should've just drove the pretty waitress home. that's his job. hers is to serve his cup of coffee to the brim. so why is he riding you to his house?

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap (cause we have a small daddy kink going on here.. hence the blog name BUT I DO HAVE A GOOD DAD), smut, this reeks of corruption kink for no reason other than me being a virgin whore, like he gets stalker-ish for a second but its logan howlett so we forgive him<3 ya está viejito, brief mention of suicide, sub logan edging on praising kink (if u squint), no protection but u gotta put the hat on the cowboy to ride the horse alr, riding, breeding kink??? angst (the depressing vibes are there cause they follow my writing like a shadow ijbol)

word count: 33,577 words (at the v crack of dawn.. i think i've gone insane FR it's 02:07 am and my brain its eating itself like im gonna start seeing logan in the corner of my room)

side note: newbie here after reading so many fanfics on tumblr but never publishing my own!! its hugh's birthday (well, its past midnight so no more but still!!! it was a couple hours ago) so i figured i should give it a try today cause that man does things to me ESPECIALLY as old man logan i can't lie and say the thought of him fucking me good and slow hasn't crossed my mind too many times 😩 we love sad hot old people in here so naturally my inaguration fic had to be done by him. also, i'm tired of scrapping for votes, comments, and interactions on wattpad so please treat me well during our first:// it's me moving to tumblr it's me hi i'm the problem it's me. i'm a feedback whore so pls leave tons of those!! also, english isn't my first language so if i make a grammar mistake pls do not tell me bc i have no respect for this language ―it just makes me cringe less to write smut on a language that isn't mine lol<3 but if there's any other mistake yes pls do tell me thank u OKAY BYE i needa quit yapping ENJOY dilf town<3

So it started something like this.

It was another simple nightshift for Logan. The weather humid, uncomfortably sticking the fabric of his white button shirt onto his skin. Even with the windows down. Those nights that the driving dragged on for long, like those cigarettes that now made him cough more than relax. The roads felt too long; his eyes too heavy.

Nothing new. Just about what to expect: money short, clients and traffic equally annoying. But that was the problem; nothing was new anymore.

He'd just finish dropping a customer close by, and since the tiring feeling didn't seem to leave his body just yet, a coffee wouldn't hurt. As a matter of fact, the need for a boost to make it home makes him get out of the car and limp his way into the first place his tired vision sees.

The rim of his recently adquired reading glasses slips as he climbs the stairs into the decades old diner, the decoration outdated. He understands; he feels the same way.

Neon lights flash his face when he enters the place and sits in the farthest booth he can find. The air is impregnated in grease and cheap coffee, but he waits at least fifty minutes to order, giving his body some time to rest. In the meanwhile, he tries to distract himself with the newspaper resting on the table, but God knows his eyes are too tired and his mind drifts every two words.

He hopes he doesn't get kicked out, judging from the attentive look he's receiving by a waitress resting on the bar. She looks as bored and tired as he does.

Maybe that's why he chooses her, raising his hand with order in mind. A black coffee. The waitress slides from her position and takes some steps to where he sits.

Her voice is sweet when she introduces herself, and Logan finds himself asking her again what her name is, pretending he's half deaf just to listen to it again.

"It's y/n" you repeat, oh so sickeningly sweet, he might have to skip on asking for sugar.

"Y/n" he savours the name on his lips, trying the tender sound, his eyes darting to the name tag, like he's confirming it. Testing to see if the young woman in front of him is real. Maybe his eyes linger a little too long, and the tip of your ears start to heat. Its the way he examines every feature on your face, like memorizing it in a sense, that makes you squirm. But maybe, just maybe, it's the small―brief, peak he gives to your exposed cleavage, pushing itself against the tight fabric of your uniform what truly gets your heart beating fast.

He looks like what your parents would warn you to stay away and your friends would talk behind your back. Rugged in a way that screams heartbreak, rough around edges your kind nature wishes to soften. It's unresonable to feel this way about a client you just met, but his aloof demeanor peaks your interest, so different from your usual costumers and familiar faces that pop up at the diner.

"Can I order you, darling?" his voice comes out deep, almost passing as a grunt. Just what you imagined it to sound. Why he's acting as his past self so effortlessly, after closing himself off to the point of going by entire days without talking more than three words, is concerning. Why the cute waitress who looks at him with doe eyes, expectant to take his order, is making him break the promise he made to himself not to get attached again―just live by enough to make it to the sea and put a bullet in his head.

"Well, that's just about my job" you joke, feeling confident for no reason. "But you can't order me".

"A damn shame" he chuckles, the sound deep, rumbling on his chest. It's been so long since he's laughed like that: carefree, without that pressing weight on his chest, that despite the sinking notion, sometimes feels more like a hole carved where his heart is supposed to be.

"So..." you trail off, unsure where to proceed after that sound that jolted your entire system awake, "what will you take?"

The banter dies, and Logan is dissapointed when she scribbles the dark coffee on her pretty round letter and walks away. He doesn't miss the sway of her hips, and almost calls her back just to hear her voice again. But he stops himself, because it's getting pathetic.

When she returns with her order, he almost regrets the comeback of his enhaced senses, her honeyed perfume mixed with the bitter smell of the freshly brewed coffee, creating an intoxicating mix.

His lips burn when he sips it, but that doesn't stop him from emptying the cup. Again. And again. All in the name for asking for more coffee, a magnetic force pulling him to the ground, making him forget he's a 200 and something year old man begging like a starved man for at least a fraction of her attention. He feels unworthy of your warmth.

He feigns interest on the newspaper when you return again (he's been stuck on the same paragraph ever since he sat down), the pot in your hands. If you've noticed he's emptied the cups faster than a normal person, you don't ask questions. He's thankful, but can see the amusement and confusion laced across your pretty face.

"More?" you ask, but it's unnecesary. He only nods, and you miss the chatter.

The closeness it's a challenge itself, the uniform's neckline practically shoved down his nose while she fills the cup to the brim. He hears his own heartbeat, the sound averting his attention from another "brief" glance at the cleavage. Is it intentional? Is your goodwill and act? Are you this cruel, playing with an old touch starved man like that?

God knows it's been long since he's had a helping hand during his relief hours.

He can't help it; he's a man, after all. So he seizes the moment and steals a glance. But his eyes meet yours, the wary green clashing with the cozy chocolate. There's warmth on your eyes, and he's looking at your tits like an animal. He pulls away, ashamed. The shirt feels a bit suffocating, and there's sweat on his forehead again. Great, you'll think he's a perv.

"Excuse me" you say, leaving his table. Logan is afraid of having fucked it up for thinking with this dick and not with his head. You were messing too much with his head, and now he'll pay the price. Fair, he thinks, for a perverted old man trying to woo a girl younger and far more innocent than him.

There's benevolance on her smile and blood on his hands.

The whole situation is stupid.

But then he's thinking of excuses (like saying it's his failing eyesight's fault) and something close to an apology, as if he cares a little too much about what you think. And then you come back.

"I forgot to bring you a napkin" she lies, leaving the piece of paper in the middle of the table. You laugh, and Logan let's you because 1. He deserves it, and 2. It's a sound as saccharine as the smell the freshly heated pies emit on the table across him.

You leave before he can even open his mouth, so all he's left with is the napkin that seems to have something written on it. Pervert, he reads, on the same calligraphy you scribbled on your bloc. He can't help but laugh, even with your watchful look on him.

That's how it continued.

Even if he had other rides and more energy to drive, he kept coming to the decaying diner just to see you. Almost as if he was forgetting his desperate need for the money, the boat goal further and further.

"You've forgotten about me" complained Charles, although his tone lacked of bite. "But I'm not mad that you've had".

He'd go on, rambling about living life but Logan just laughed. Yet, maybe he was right. Didn't even need his powers to know it.

Now, you? you simply couldn't get enough of your favorite costumer. Of his late stays until you closed, sometimes not muttering more than necessary, yet his company, even if curt, proved to be what you needed to make it through work, giving you a legitimate reason to yearn the before tedious night shifts.

Despite this two month weird relationship, Logan is as a stranger to you as he was the first day, no matter how many times you've tried to get him to talk. In the end, all your conversation efforts feel more of a monologue than a chat.

He knows about your mom and your dad, one strict the other dead. He knows most of your friends names, what you're studying and what you wanted to. Your dreams and your hopes, your aspirations, failures, and some other things you'd never say to anyone else out loud. All and nothing. And he listens, sometimes asking questions, but never about himself. He never takes the lead.

So frustration from the Logan enigma pours into you, the puzzle pieces layed out over your mind, consuming your thoughts. So now you're stubbornly cleaning the same grease spot on a table you've already wipped before, and that, coincidentally, it's the booth in front of Logan, the permanent resident of your head during these past weeks. You might as well make him start paying rent by now, his power and hold over you ridiculous.

"It's not going anywhere. Take it easy" he mocks you.

There's a bit of annoyance when you reply back, although it's mostly superficial. "Don't know what you're talking about" comes out your dry response, earning a low chuckle from him.

"How about you sit for a moment?" he offers, ignoring your apathy. "You're almost done cleaning up".

If his ever changing attitude isn't enough, closing this night's shift is as tiring.

Logan doesn't expect you to obey, but now you're sitting across from him, and a voice in his head says you maybe feel sorry for this lunatic old man.

You're so close, he can see the eye bags and sorrow you are far tired to try to hide.

"I have to finish cleaning" you explain, "we're about to close".

He doesn't know why he says it, or what takes over him when he says:

"I could wait for you"

He surprises himself and surprises you too.

"No need" you assure, and why does he feel so dissapointed. It's stupid. "My friend picks me up".

Ah, yes. The friend with the perfect stupid smile that picks you up every night. Not like he parks his car until you leave and sees the scene unfold each time, his white knuckle grip on the wheel a bit too much when the young boy opens up your door. Makes him see red, knowing he's your age and maybe the breathe of fresh air you need. Not a man far older, who bears too many sins and scars in and out.

"I see" he says after some minutes in silence, retracting his impulsiveness. "I'm sorry if I made you-"

"No!" you clarify hastily, "it doesn't bother me".

He smiles unconsciously in relief.

"Well, me neither. I insist. If you change your mind" he's practically begging, despite his monotone tone.

But you don't.

The place closes and Logan is forced to get in the car. He lights a cigarette, in no hurry to return home. The lighter lights up while the diner's light goes off. You and your boss come out, biding each other goodbye. She leaves and you're is left alone, hugging your body in the early morning cold. 

He sees you wearing particular clothes, for the first time. He takes a slow drag on his cigarette, eyes running up and down your bare legs, the fragile fabric of the skirt fluttering in the wind. He exhales, watching as you dials your phone several times, getting no response, obviously frustrated.

He mutters something under his breath, and maybe there is a God after all. He starts the car, approaching her, who has already noticed it, probably because of the noise of the engine.

She looks scared, but Logan rolls down the window so she can see it's him.

"Need'a ride?"

Just by his reverberant sound you could accept. But you try to play cool for a while, despite your aching bones and need to get home.

"He doesn't answer" he was right, "my friend".

I know, he wishes to say, but he's the same hot headed asshole who walked through the doors of the X mansion for the first time, so his tone will be laced with irony. He doesn't want you to see him as an intense hot blooded mouth.

I could take you. His head pounds but he shuts the emotions down.

He shoves the knot on his throat down and asks as casually as possible, "do you live close?"

"Just around the corner" you answer. A beat, your frame bending so he can see your face from the driver's sit, the cleavage saying hello again. How considerate of you. "Do you really want to do this?"

Do you really want to do this?

The question rings on his ears. It holds more than just the favor. Logan knows they have a certain tension between them that he no longer wants to ignore. For the first time it seems to be reciprocated; palpable, and he is surprised to hear his heart beating loudly, so accustomed to hearing others' with his sharp senses, constantly forgetting what his own sounds like. Yours also beats erratically, despite your calm composure.

You arch an eyebrow, amused. "I can't believe you waited for me. Your family must be worried."

Logan realizes you're trying to test waters. So he raises his hand discreetly and places it on the door, so you can see the lack of a ring. As expected, your eyes travel to his free finger, and he can swear he sees you breathe with relief, which is funny, because in case you hadn't picked up until now, Logan is very much fucking alone.

"In case you changed your mind," he answers. "I have nowhere else to be."

That is enough of an invitation for you to get in the car.

"I was going to open that door for you" he protests.

You only laugh as you buckle the seatbelt. "It's not that big of a deal, really. You've already done enough for me by doing me the favor".

"It's not that big of a deal" he repeats your words, "as long as I'm of help, that's enough for me".

He smiles wistfully, remembering better times. A part of him still aspires to be that hero everyone loved and remembered, something that clearly doesn't happen anymore (or if it does, it's rare), given the lack of recognition of his former identity in El Paso. He shakes his head, focusing back on the street in front of him. It's too late to get fucking sentimental.

"I like to help too…" you confess, meekly. Logan sighs, how could he not know? "My father used to say that I had the kindest heart he'd ever met. I hope it stays that way, and that when he looks down on me, he's proud".

It hurts Logan to see you be so hard on yourself, as if he didn't do the same.

"I bet all the customers in the place would say you're the sweetest thing they've met", he sees you smile from the corner of his eye, and can't help but emulate it. "Believe me, you're their favorite".

"Thank you, Logan" you say sincerely. However, the affliction that he hates to see crosses your face. So gloomy that you don't even seem the same person.

You wipe away an unexpected tear, but Howlett is faster and notices. You turn around, looking towards the window. Then, you catch a glimpse of his license.

"So… you're a driver" you try to break the silence that Logan has put without knowing why. Maybe to give you some space after being sentimental and opening up again to this closed off wall name Logan, but he knows it's a lie. He's scared. After wanting so much to be closer to you, he cowers, not trusting himself and what he would do trapped in a small space with such an attractive woman. Besides, the tension from the previous conversation was still there.

"You judging me now, honey?" the pet name rolls off his tongue before he catches it. He tries to play it cool, continuing the banter, carrying the same tone. "The only thing necessary to make you trust me was to give you a free ride?

"I'm in your car, Logan. I got in without thinking" you laugh. "I believe that's enough trust"

"Then, I'll keep doing you favors. Maybe if I do…" he trails off.

Your voice drops an octave, provocative. "Maybe what?"

His knuckles grip the steering wheel until they turn white.

"Maybe…" he hesitates, "maybe…"

"It's here" you point out. Shit, Logan curses, braking abruptly without meaning to.

"See you tomorrow" you bid as a goodbye, getting out of the car. Logan misses your smell.

So he sticks his head out the window, like a begging dog.

"How about now?" he says a bit forcefully.

Your face shows surprise and something else.

"You're getting attached" you reply, and he doesn't know why there seems to be sadness in your voice.

"I just keep coming back for the coffee" he defends himself.

You laugh, shaking your head "Now, then. For the coffee, clearly."

"I can leave" he says. Yet, makes no move to leave.

You sigh, giving him one last look. Surrender, he reads.

"You're a driver, right?" he nods, taking in every word coming of your pink plush lips. "Then let's drive off. Anywhere" your voice trails off, and you're just so tired of everything, you'll just let go yourself with the flow. "I'll go wherever you go..."

And this is how it ends.

When you wake up, it's almost dawn.

Logan had suggested you to sleep, claming the road where he was taking you to be long. He had covered you with his jacket, even if your body was burning from nerves.

Why had you agreed? Your mom would probably smack your head in search for some sense, and your reckless friends would encourage you to do it for the sake of a story. But something about Logan makes you feel safe, despite not knowing anything from him. It's sort of a sense of protection―like he would never hurt you, that envelops him. Everyone else would call you crazy; only you can understand that.

When your eyes adjust to the light, you realize you're in a line of cars.

"Did you bring me to the border?" you exclaim groggily, still in a sleepy voice.

"Good morning" he answers instead.

You rub yoou eyes, settling into the passenger seat.

"You're not going to kidnap me, right?" you question, half joking half serious.

Logan laughs, "Not only that. I'm also going to throw your body in a mass grave"

"It's not funny," you pout, although you're laughing too.

Once you've crossed the border, Logan drives a few more minutes, until he reaches a restricted area.

“I live here” he answers before you can ask, “saves rent and questions”

After opening the locks, you can better appreciate the place. Well, appreciate may not be the right word.

“It's an abandoned smelting plant” you voice out loud.

Logan just nods. You realize that he didn't like the comment, so you try not to talk about it anymore.

“Come” he gets out of the car, going to open your door. He offers you a hand, and you fail to hide your smile.

“You didn't miss this time, huh? Quite a gentleman” you praise. Then, add jokingly, “if you choose to kill me, at least I'll die taken care of".

“Stop talking nonsense and go inside” he scolds but smiles.

Inside, the abandoned plant is exactly what you expected.

"We're alone" Logan says, after leaving to check. He opens the door to his room, letting you in. There's not much inside, just a bed and scattered things. A yellowish light begins to filter through the broken glass. "I'mma change. Be right back".

You begin to explore your surroundings, to avoid thinking about the impact of the situation. Two things could happen: leave or stay. Maybe everything was going too fast, but you prided yourself on your spontaneity, often confused with impulsiveness. Others would say it was your naive nature: too innocent for your own good.

What had led you to accept without further ado? Was trust enough, that you had even fallen asleep in his car?

"S'rry for the wait"

You notice that Logan's gotten rid of his formal attire, leaving him in just slacks and an old white tank top. His muscles flex with every movement, making you swallow involuntarily. He still retains his extraordinary physique, despite his greying hair. She can't help but stare at the scars that cover his exposed skin, her fingers itching to trace them.

"Haven't they told ya' t's rude to stare?"

You look away, embarrassed. Logan walks over to the bed, bumping into you in the process, bodies barely touching. Still, an electric shock runs through you. You hug yourself, scared, aware of the effect he has on you.

"Logan" she dares to ask, "what are we doing?"

He finally looks at you. You feel naked under his intense gaze.

"What do you want us to do?"

His voice comes out low, like a growl. You stand in place stiff, unable to form a word.

"Come on, honey", the nickname comes out of his lips so easily, it hurts. "Are ya losing your voice now? Got into my car a while ago without thinkin', what's changed?"

You slowly approach Logan, each stride calculated. He watches you in silence, a silence as hostile as the wind hitting the broken windows, watching you remove your clothes, until all that's left is your bra and that skimpy skirt, as if you knew he liked it.

"Logan…" you whisper his name like a prayer, letting yourself fall on his legs. He holds you with his hard calloused fingers, like a promise.

Don't let me fall. Don't let me go. Don't leave me.

The habit of loneliness settles in between, and the flame they thought in deep slumber rekindles, burning with their long time unattended needs.

"Use your words, sweet thing" the trepidation condenses between, "we're grown up now, aren't we? Use your words"

If by words he meant feeling your lips against his, it's enough to have Logan following his impulses, using his strength to embrace your body until they feel like one, the scars on his hands feeling like your own. Your lips move in sync, and it's almost so casual, so learned, so meant to be, that fear appears in Logan, soon forgotten with the symphony of moans that come from your lips.

"Tell me" he pauses, breaking away from the kiss (something you don't like and express in the form of a pout), "what do you want?"

Logan tastes like cigars and whiskey, a combination you hate and the reason you quit your old job at the bar, but on his lips, it's an intoxicating taste.

"I want you, Logan" you whisper, hot breath against his skin, “you”.

He resumes the kiss, an electric shock of hunger and need between you: lips parted, colliding, teeth almost clashing against each other.

His fingers hesitate with a delicacy that belies his rough touch, the tips of his worn fingers lifting the fragile cloth of your skirt first, revealing soaking wet panties he goes crazy just at the sight of. The smell is sugary, sicklingly, so now he's hard and pulling at the clasp of your bra first, exposing your nipples, which he rolls and pinches mercilessly. A gasp escapes you—then another, and another as Logan pushes his thigh between your legs. The friction is delicious, almost painful against your pulsing center.

His hand firm up his position, securing itself onyour bare legs as you digs her nails into him. His labored moans turn into a guttural growl.

“You think I’m not capable?” he mocks, stealing another moan from her, “that I can’t keep up with you, you pretty young thing?”

You deny it, but Logan takes it upon himself to show you that he can take you like he's in heat, the ghost of his old self taking over in his almost animal way of fucking you, hips arched, muscles flexed and tense, his teeth appearing every time he opens his mouth, reminding you of fangs. They dig into your exposed skin, leaving bruises that will take time to disappear from your shoulders and neck, marking what belongs to him.

The hardness of his skin meets your soft when he grabs you by the waist.

"Look at you" it slips from his tongue, ecstatic. He's a goner, saliva dripping from the messy and sloppy kisses he leaves through your collarbone, "so good and so pure. I bet you're innocent, that you haven't seen what I've seen..."

His pupils darken, a strange mix between torment and desire in his gaze. Hungry and violent.

"Will you let me show you how's a real man s'ppossed to treat a woman?"

He feels shame settle in his belly, the hunger to possess her almost virgin body fueling his dark desire of errasing her sweet smile until she's an unintelligible mess of sobs. To show her what she would complain about, so she'll never slettle for less. So you can feel what it's to be taken care of―handled. And then he'll fill you up with his seed, so no other man will take what's his. His sweet little thing. Oh, he's so going to hell for this.

But maybe he likes pain.

"That's it, honey" he plays with the fabric of your wet panties, pulling at the loose threads in the delicate fabric. "Let me show you".

You take it off, and Logan lies back against the bed, spreading his legs and unbuttoning his belt and pants―a clear invitation to repeat the previous position, except this time, his hands are on top of your hips, squeezing the soft skin. He doesn't take his eyes off you, his gaze reserved only on you. If the adrenaline from before pushed you, now the confidence gained motions you to finish the task. It's just the push you need, remembering that this is what it feels like to be with a real man as you throw a leg over his hips, sitting your ass right on top of the bulge marked on his underwear.

“Right… there…” he barely manages to formulate a coherent train of words, the years of lack of help in attending to his needs leading to overstimulation, “good girl.”

The compliment makes you increase the pace of your hips, his labored breaths a sound so rich and so manly it makes you squirm.

You need it desperately, rubbing your increasingly wet clit against him, riding the fabric. His scruffy beard barely hides the smug smile that graces his lips.

“Like this?” she whispers, and Logan can no longer contain himself, staring at his sweaty, ripped body failing to please her completely. It feels so good it aches, and he can't believe this is how he's ended. But if that means having your pretty face on top of him, covered in his marks, dripping on your joint sweats, well maybe it isn't so bad.

“How can I repay you, honey?” he pleads. He'll try he's best. He just wants to give you a glimpse of the way his whole world has light up ever since he stumbled in that greasy diner.

“You said you were going to show me” it comes out almost as a purr, expectant, “and I’m waiting”.

Logan takes it as his cue, pulling down his underwear until his member is exposed, chuckling darkly when you swallow at the sight.

"Don't tell me you're scared already" he teases, "look how you have me… you can't leave me like this…"

You stifle a scream as you feel every inch of his thick cock enter your sensible walls, trying to fit his member inside of your needy body.

"So tight for me" he stammers, using his hands to keep you in place, on top of him. The only sound in the silence of that place that smells of death is that of their skin colliding―vulgar, the obscenity highlighted by being the only thing that can be heard in the small room.

Even though his stamina has dropped over the years, he thrusts into you relentlessly. Logan fucks you senseless, his balls buried deep in your dripping pussy, a constant rhythm of avid suction with each entry to your walls.

He takes a moment to see you as you take something from the nighstand he doesn't remember putting there.

"Look what I found" you whisper in the middle of your moans. Logan recognizes the shine of metal in front of his eyes, "so Wolverine?"

You say it so easily, like it's not the first time. With acceptance; it scares him.

Do you recognize him? Are you not scared? Why haven't your eyes go from curiosity and kindness to cold and rejection?

He should panic, rip off his dog tags from your hands and pretend he doesn't know who he used to be, but he's so deep inside you and so enraptured, he can only manage to gently take them from between your fingers and put them around your neck, the cold metal against your warm, bare skin creating an electric shock.

"I want to see them on you"

He likes to watch it hang over his face while you're on top, panting heavily as she repeats his name, slurring her words. It dangles with every thrust, the silver glistens in the seeping sun, just like the sweat that adorns her skin.

"Are you that needy of your old man? " he teases, caressing her. He smacks the curve of his ass, “You want more?”

His veiny length makes quick work of your needy hole, more moans escaping your lips.

“Shit,” you curse, wincing at the pain that begins to increase. “Yes, Logan. Just like that. Nobody ever treated me like that, nobody's made me feel like this-”

He moans, pleased with the praise, seeing he isn't as lacking as he thought. Making you feel good is his priority, but he won't lie and say he doesn't want to feel it too.

In an attempt to distract yourself, your eyes try to focus on him: searching his features, memorizing every scar, every wrinkle, every little grey hair.

“You’re perfect, Logan,” you mumble through a moan, the confession hiding more than you want to say and more than he cares to admit.

Before he can process it though, the fire in his stomach signals the arrival of his impending orgasm.

There's something delightful about the way you can barely speak, a mess of moans that sound like his name, eyes half-lidded and lips swollen alongside your messy hair.

He feels almost sick to be consuming something that doesn't and shouldn't belong to him. He doesn't deserve to have such a beautiful, young woman riding him while she clings to him like he's the last thing in this world, him: a worn, old man who can't keep up with her.

His member spasms, and it's got you feeling it all inside your walls, causing him to close his eyes in the process as well.

It's too soon, Logan thinks in shame, but it's been so long and you feels so good, he let's it go:

Thick whips of his cum shoot out of his member, drawing out more than you would've imagined. You don't have much time to think about it, for the orgasm hits you immediately, fingers curling and eyes rolling to the back of your skull.

Logan feels his tip getting wetter, and the extra lubrication is a nice finishing touch.

“God,” he gasps, “what a mess…”

You avoid looking at him, taking one of his hands in yours, kissing the red and violet painted knuckles. If you do, you'll give away what you feel, the same way her memory burns in Logan's chest, more now than ever, as his mouth tastes just like you.

Dependency.

Devotion. Absolute. Sick.

Maybe that was what he felt. This weird feeling. That abyss piercing his chest but never killing him (so much for regenerating...), pressing his heart with a crushing force whenever it threathened to beat again. Logan was content with rather nothing, always a man who didn't ask for much, and since the death of his family―the X-men, less.

"You should go" he mutters in defeat, the shame washing over. Even if he'll miss your warmth, even if he doesn't want you to leave at all. "It's for your own good, y/n. Pretend you don't know me and turn around. Go away" he insists yet gets stuck on his words, "you're not stupid. Then you'll know it's good for you and you'll never speak to me again"

He looks at the ground, cowardly, because he wants your lust filled warm look to be the last memory he remembers. Not whatever look you're giving him now.

So Logan closes his eyes and counts to ten. When he opens them, you'll be gone. It'll be a dream, something too good to be true. Short lived, like every good thing in his life.

"Logan..." you calls his name. So softly it seems like a breath.

You're still here.

"Logan" you call again, more firmly.

"Logan" you don't give up, cupping with one hand his face gently, "look at me".

When he looks up, he comes across a heartbreaking vision. You cry, tears falling like waterfalls down your cheeks. But that's not the most devastating thing, no: it's the look in your eyes, as if you've shared his pain. As if you've had suffered the same things he had suffered; a twisted reflection of him.

"Of course I understand you" you take his hands, and Logan feels that same strange warmth he felt the first time when your hands brushed his with the diner's menu. "I've also lost people… people I loved. Don't you think it hurts me to see the world go on as if nothing happened? Everyone forgets, Logan. But I can't; there's not a day that goes by when I don't think about them"

For a moment, you stop crying, and the hidden internal turmoil he tried so hard to decipher finally makes sense.

"I don't know what you've been through either, but I can promise you, that I understand you more than you think…" it seems like you'll say something else, but you stop and say instead. "Think, Lo: would these people want to see you like this?"

"It's what I deserve" he murmurs barely, his voice constipated but without shedding a single tear.

"It's not what we want, Logan. Please" you sniff, pained "stop being so hard on yourself".

"I'm not who you think I am" he insists. You're still naked on his bed, and he feels dirty for having you like this. For taking you to his home and fucking you raw out of your innocence. "I'm not a good person."

"No, Logan" you seem hurt by that statement. You trace one of his most recent scars with a touch so compassionate, that he feels your fingertips burn, "you are a hero".

Your words were so sweet, so comforting. He wanted to sink into your lap, which smelled like flowers and tasted like safety. A home; a life that had been taken from him. He wanted to believe everything you said―feel who you believed he was. Not this pathetic, tired and apathetic version of himself, but the old version: the version that inspired respect, that despite his tough exterior, had a family he loved. Because he had a heart. Now he feels like he has no soul: no purpose, nothing.

But maybe you are the answer.

Before he can change his mind, you blurt out “can I stay?”

That morning, in that old bed that creaks under his weight, Logan discovers that feeling alive again isn't so bad.

[raewritesfiction]

Pillow [Daryl Dixon x Female!Reader]

A/N: based on this…

Plot: Daryl walks in on you humping your pillow and offers an alternative.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Female! Reader

Warnings: Smut. Pillow jumping, face riding, language.

[[ Lemme know if you wanna be added or removed from tags; no questions asked ♥️ likes are amazing however I really appreciate Reblogs to help spread my writing further! Thank you 🌈😘]]

Tag List: @thegreatlarryfisherman @iraniq @snewsome756 @vikkikrash @amelia-in-w0nderland @pandaliciouz @crispyimagines17 @marie-is-blogging @bonniebird @nutinanutshell @louise-buchan @differentcatcat @madsadgenius @sycochick @kcthescreamqueen @phoenix-is-closer-to-the-edge @charlottewatkinsblog

—

The week had been tough and you needed release; you’d barely been able to wait until you were back in the seclusion of your shared house, knowing he wouldn’t be back for another couple of hours meant you had plenty of time.

You hadn’t closed your door because you didn’t want to waste the time and you’d started out fully clothed, rubbing over your pants, undoing the buttons and zip and dipping into the material to feel yourself and then slowly you’d stripped down to nothing, rocking your hips on a particularly firm pillow you’d cleaned up and repurposed.

You were so far into the feelings flushing through you that you didn’t hear him come back; your small moans wouldn’t escape the house but he heard them and quietly walked up the stairs; missing the two that squeaked.

Daryl stood watching you; your back to him as you rocked on the pillow and gasped, your hands moving over yourself and teasing your nipples. He watched as your head dropped back and you moaned a little louder. He discovered it was music to his ears and silently stepped into your room, placing his hands on your hips making you jump.

“Oh Jesus fuck!” You squealed and turned, panting. “Oh god! Fuck I…”

“Sweetheart… you’re far too pretty to be humpin’ your pillow… how about ya use my face instead?” His voice is low, rough from probably chain smoking through the morning and riding for the runs. His eyes are blown and he can’t take them off of you, you couldn’t decide if it was your ass or tits that held his attention as he squeezed at his crotch.

How long had he been stood there? What had he heard and seen? Why did the idea of him watching you like that turn you on so much more?

You run a hand through your hair and blink, sure you’d imaged what Daryl would feel like inside you but you’d never thought anything would come of it. He always kept to himself; his emotions especially so and he’d never given any indication he was interested. Had he? He did like being close to you and when you were told you’d have to share a house Daryl was quick to say he had a spare room; unlike many of the other houses.

���Uh… y-yeah… I mean I… we…” you stutter, failing to make a complete sentence.

Daryl crawls onto the bed and lays down, licking his lips and letting his eyes wander over you “c’mon baby doll.” His arms spread out for you to crawl onto him.

You move on the bed and do so, hovering over his mouth “c’mon… if I die I die… no better way to go out.”

You blush crimson and slowly lower to his mouth, rolling your hips a little as his tongue makes contact with you. Daryl’s hands gripped you and pulled you down fully onto his face, making him moan as he took in your scent and taste. His lips suck over you while his tongue explores every fold of your wet pussy; he mumbles and circles on your swollen clit, closing his lips over you and sucking in pulses while you rock your hips and find your rhythm.

There was no doubt his mouth felt so much better than the pillow and his hands on your skin felt electric.

“Tease yerself baby…” he hums and looks up at you, watching your hands move to your tits and massage, knead, pinch and pull. He moans as he watches you and rocks his hips in time with yours. Daryl groans and swirls his tongue over you messily, switching between kissing, sucking and licking you. His tongue pushes inside you and he expertly twists and curls it before moving back to your clit.

You pant and whine, careful not to be too loud as the houses were in disrepair and not as sound proof as they should be.

You reach a hand down into Daryl’s hair and he moans low against you, reaching his hand down to his pants and undoing them with ease to reach inside.

“Don’t stop…” you whisper and grind your hips down onto him.

“Good girl, ride my face…” he sucks over you again and watches you writhe; his hand wrapping around his free cock and jerking in rhythm with your movements.

Soon you were both panting and moaning out, louder than intended but it just felt so fucking good that you couldn’t help yourselves. Daryl twists his hand and tightens his grip, speeding up as your hips move faster and buck on his face. You gasp and pant harder “fuck… fuck Daryl…!”

He takes this to mean continue what he’s doing and sucks harder on your clit, pulsing around you while bucking and twisting his hips to his hand.

“Cum fer me…” he speaks against you “cover me…” his tongue flicks quickly and you grip his hair a little tighter, doubling over as you call out with release, he keeps licking and sucking over you making you tremble and babble. Daryl moans low and sucks hard on you with his own release shortly after; slowing both his hand and his mouth to a stop and helping you lay down beside him on the bed.

You lay panting, a hand running over your face and up into your hair “Jesus Christ!”

Daryl kisses you, his lips, tongue and scruff slick with your wetness. You kiss him back hungrily and moan at the taste of yourself on him.

“No more ridin’ pillows…” he speaks low, “Yer always welcome to ride me instead.”

You nod and chuckle “I didn’t realise it was an option until now.”

-fin-

[peachsayshi]

the duke nanami drabbles are insane i am frothing at the mouth why is this so hot like keep em coming babe ur a genius for this

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄ duke!nanami x reader ⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

minors / ageless blogs / blank blogs - do not interact.

notes: I am so glad you guys are enjoying this idea! this was one that's been lingering in my head, so I decided to write something short & sweet for you all x

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ tags: arranged marriage; tension; alludes to smut

your face grows hotter still - it must be the corset, you think. the strings squeezing into your ribs and making your heart flutter aggressively in your chest. it has to be that and not the heat of your husband's gaze staring at you from across the room.

because that’s the only explanation you have as to why you bolted all the way upstairs to your bedroom while in the middle of hosting a dinner.

you remove your gloves with a shaky hand, your fingers touching the frill of your collar.

you exhale, the warmth another set of fingers around your neck. but then you hear it, a soft click from the door behind you, making you spin on your heel in sudden shock.

“kento” you greet, enunciating each letter as your mouth goes dry at sight of him in his well-tailored suit, his blonde hair coiffed perfectly and reminding you of how it feels between your fingers when he’s inside you.

“are you alright?” he asks softly, tenderly. with a care that only a husband would. except other than the title and your bedroom relations, you still don’t know much about him.

it’s only been two months. this is still very, very new.

“yes,” you answer breathlessly, “I think, my lady must have tied it a bit too tight.”

your husband hums, an unfamiliar expression passing through him, one that your innocent mind won’t be able to comprehend as to why knots and binds would trigger that kind of reaction.

“let me help.”

he walks towards you, helps lift your hand up from the dresser and maneuvers you to the wall. he sets your back against it, his expert fingers unfastening the buttons around your neck and down your torso.

“this is far too much clothing for my liking, you know most women don’t dress this conservatively…” he speaks, his tone lighthearted but honest.

your cheeks burn. “mama told me that a lady should never expose herself to anyone other than her husband”

a hint of a smile tickles the corner of his lips. “a little skin is fine. I actually wouldn’t mind it. besides, I can’t have my wife passing out in the foyer because of all this fabric…”

you almost moan with relief when you feel the first layer of fabric fall to your feet, leaving you standing with your arms exposed, your torso cinched by the corset which is layered over a thin, white cotton dress.

your husband inches closer. “turn around,” he whispers.

you do, pressing your forehead to the wall because the scent of his aftershave makes you dizzy.

he tugs at your lace and groans, but you can’t see the furrow of his brows.

“far too tight,” he mumbles, and you clench your thighs together because he allowed those same words to slip from his lips when he first entered you on your wedding night.

slowly but surely, you start feeling a release - the boning easing against your stomach, your ribs, your back…

you sigh, your eyes fluttering close as your husband takes off your corset. leaving you in your sheer dress.

two hands find your waist, your nipples hardening at his touch. “there,” kento coos, “better?”

you’re still so very hot, but at least you can breathe.

he spins you around, your hands clutching the lapels of his suit. his eyes instantly take you in, falling to your chest exposed by the see through fabric.

he licks his lips, unable to help himself. arching forward, he places a kiss just above your left breast, and another on the side of your neck.

“better?” he repeats.

you stutter a “mhmm”, coiling your limbs around him like it’s natural.

his lips brush yours, his teeth nipping at your bottom covered in rouge. you part your lips, and he slides his tongue capturing you for a kiss and effectively ruining your make up. but you don’t care because your sinking, your body only propped up by the wall and your husband’s arms. your tongue drinking him up to cool you off.

“kento,” you pant, “our guests”

“an inconvenience,” he groans into another kiss, “I’ll be down to dismiss them shortly-“

you pull away, your hands finding his jaw and mouth painted in red. your thumb traces over the evidence of the kiss, your eyes sparkling with hesitation when you gaze up at him.

he chuckles, and circles his finger around your wrist to kiss your pulse point. “don’t worry, I’ll freshen up first, darling.”

his other hand slips between your leg, and he presses the fabric up against your slit, catching your arousal and feeling the material dampen slightly.

he rubs his nose over yours, “get ready for bed,” he speaks, his tone dripping in honey, his fingers pushing the fabric between your lips. “I’ll join you as soon as I can”

[chaos-in-deepspace]

L&DS Xavier: Begging for a Pegging | 18+

So anyway, got possessed at 1 in the morning, finished writing this by 3, and ya. This is the first one in the series. The other boys will soon be getting a strap in the ass as well. Also I edited this with grammarly premium so uh...we just hoping for the best but I wanted to get this out tonight gg.

♡(ᓀ‸ᓂ)♡ Pairings: Xavier x Reader ♡(ᓀ‸ᓂ)♡ Warnings: Pegging, Bottom Xavier, Collars and Leashes, Begging, Nicknames, AFAB Reader ♡(ᓀ‸ᓂ)♡ Synopsis: In order to defeat Heartbreaker you need to solidify your bond with Xavier. Your idea might be out of the box, but it'll certainly bring you two closer. ♡(ᓀ‸ᓂ)♡ Word Count: 5k

Disclaimer: This is an original fan work for “Love and Deepspace”. Do not repost on other platforms or plagiarize. All characters shown in this fic is 18+.

Blog Information | Masterlist

Xavier

Begging for a Pegging

Your phone hovered over the ‘send’ button, shifting slightly in your bedroom. You looked at all the supplies you had gathered up. Your heart pounded as you finally hit the button, expecting to hear from Xavier in maybe a few hours. To your surprise, your phone lit up with a phone call immediately. You fumbled a bit with your phone, not expecting it before answering.

“Xavier?” You said, mentally kicking yourself from how your voice wavered. You were excited, anticipating your little plan coming together. Still, you absolutely did not want him to know about it beforehand.

He called your name gently over the phone, “You said it was an urgent mission, so I thought a phone call would be better,” he spoke, and you nodded, then realized he couldn’t see you. You had just texted him that you had received a new urgent mission and that you’d need your partner to help you. Of course, that would get him to call you right away.

“Ya, I just got the information in,” you began as you sat on the edge of your bed, “It’s about that incident with Heartbreaker. I have a plan, but you’ll need to come over to my apartment later,” you didn’t even finish speaking when he cut you off.

“I’m heading over now,” and there goes your heart. You stood up, and he had already hung up before you could say anything. You shivered as you took one last look at all your things and nodded. This would be fine. It had to be okay.

You left your room in a hurry, wishing you had time to put something a bit more…sexy on. Oh well, that could wait for another time. You were certain Xavier would agree to what you were about to offer him. He was always so agreeable to you in the past, a perfect little bunny for you.

You hadn’t even gotten to the door when there was knocking. He was as fast as ever, and you suspected he had just teleported to your apartment’s door. You opened it up and caught sight of Xavier. His hair was messy with bedhead, and he wore his usual white hoodie. He looked like he had just woken up because of your text, and the small yawn he tried to stifle made you realize that was probably exactly what happened.

“Come on in,” You said, allowing him to walk inside your apartment. Nothing was amiss as he strolled in, hands shoved into the hoodie pocket. He looked around and turned as soon as you had closed and locked the door. You watched him take off his shoes and put them close to the door before he spoke up.

“So, do you have a plan?” were the first words out of Xavier’s mouth. 

You softly hum, “I do. Sit down, and I’ll explain,” you motioned towards the couch. Xavier didn’t stop to even think as he sat down on the plush sofa, staring up at you. He was confused at first as to why you weren’t joining him, but then he watched as you began pacing slightly.

“In order to defeat Heartbreaker, we must strengthen our bond. I’ve come up with a plan on how to do so,” you said. The last time you came across him, the snarky little thing had basically said you two aren’t close enough. A shame, really, but it did lead to something that would hopefully be fun for the two of you.

“And that would be?” he asked, tilting his head. He looked so relaxed on the couch, a sweet man with cerulean eyes that looked over at you like a puppy would their owner. You smiled, wanting to cup his face and kiss him, but this was serious business.

You cleared your throat as you said the following words that would really show how this evening would go, “Xavier, I need to peg you,”

The room fell silent as Xavier looked at you. His expression morphed from confusion to shock. It was almost priceless as you could see the slight reddening of his ears and cheeks as he tried to process what you had said,

“It’s to save Linkon City,” You added on; you knew the man was a sucker for whenever you made mention of that. Besides, Captain Jenna did say to do whatever it took to take down Heartbreaker when you got assigned this mission.

His silence was expected as he put a hand over his mouth, thinking things over. You could see the little cogs in his head turning and smirking. Your feet never stopped as you couldn’t just sit still; the anticipation was killing you.

“Is this your subtle way of asking to…peg me?” Xavier finally asked you, looking confused as you paced the living room. He didn’t seem appalled, though. Instead, he appeared…almost like he had been expecting this from you at some point.

“This is in no way, shape, or form supposed to be subtle,” You explained with a huff, putting a hand over your hip, “But I’m not lying. It’s to save Linkon City…we can write it in the report when we take him down,” you nodded your head at the statement.

Xavier was silent once again before he cleared his throat. He stood up and took a few steps closer to you, his hand reaching for your hip, “I am going to beg you not to include this in your report,” he said, swallowing thickly.

“Then beg,”

Those words threw Xavier off momentarily, his eyes widening at the statement, “...What…?” was all he said. He hadn’t expected this coming from you, but he was…shit, he could feel his cock twitching in his pants as you stared at him. He licked his lips without thinking, wondering where this was going and how fast you guys were getting there.

“You heard me,” You stepped closer and touched his chest. That same hand wrapped around the fabric of his hoodie, dragging him down to eye level, “I want you begging for me tonight,” your mouth ghosting over his lips. Xavier was about to lean in and properly kiss you, but you suddenly let go and took a step back.

His breath was caught in his throat as he watched you backing up, “Come on, bunny,” you said, crooking your finger to get him to follow you. Xavier took in a deep breath, closing his eyes to calm down before following you with an urgency.

How eagerly he followed you was adorable, almost tripping on your heels as you stopped before your door. You look back at him with a smile, “You’re okay with anything it takes, right?” you begin, and he nods, “I mean anything,” you voice, accentuating your tone so he knows.

“If it’s to save Linkon…” and to save his sanity with the thought of you over him. He was working hard not to blush right now, thinking about how you would look in a more dominant setting like this. Sure, you always took the reins in the relationship, but this was something new.

You slowly opened the door to your bedroom, allowing Xavier to come in and see precisely what you had been prepping. He looked over at the strap-on, the toy itself being slender but long. Next to it was a bottle of lube…and a collar and leash. He looked at those two the longest, his brain thinking of exactly why you had them.

“It’s to save Linkon,” you nodded, walking over to the bed. Your hand goes over the blue collar with little hearts for studs, picking it up as the dog tag swayed, the light catching it just right so Xavier can read it: “Good Boy.”

He swore that his cheeks would never return to their natural color. His mouth felt dry as he looked at the tag and then back at you. You didn’t seem nervous at all somehow, exuding confidence as you played with the collar, “Come on, bunny,” you chuckled, “Let me put this on for you,”

Xavier got closer until he was almost chest-to-chest with you. You leaned up with the collar, wrapping it around his neck and clicking it into place. “Is this…necessary?” he finally managed to ask, voice barely above a whisper as you put the leash on.

“I think it is,” you murmured just as quietly. You stepped back, admiring how the collar seemed to light up his blue eyes perfectly. He looked so cute like this, a tamed pet of your own.

“Alright, baby boy, I want you lying on the bed,” you said, motioning towards it. You were already moving the supplies out of the way to give him more room. He looked at the bed and then back at you, a slight pout on his lips.

“I…do I have to?” he uttered, and you looked at him and raised your eyebrow.

“That depends. Do I have your consent to peg you?” You asked first. He nodded in response, “And do you have a safeword we can use if you’re uncomfortable?” 

This got him thinking for a moment, “Ramen,” your lips quivering into a smile at that sound. If it worked, it worked, and honestly, you doubted he would be talking about ramen casually when he had a toy shoved up his ass.

“Alright, ramen it is,” you nodded, “Now lay down,”

“It’ll be weird just…lying there, though,” he commented, and you took a moment. Perhaps being in a missionary position would be too vulnerable for him. If that’s the case…

“You’re right…I want you on your elbows and knees,” you said as you looked him right in the eyes. He took in a sharp inhale as his eyes widened minutely. He looked over at the bed and then at your very serious expression.

“I…” he tried to devise another excuse, but you stopped him before he could begin.

“On,” One step closer, “your,” another step with your hand reaching up, grabbing him by the leash and dragging him down to your face, “knees,” your voice was dripping with authority, and he shivered at the tone. He nodded his head after you loosened your hold and made his way to the bed. He did as you said, getting on his elbows and knees, his head right over the pillows as he looked back at you.

“Is this okay…?” He sounded embarrassed, and it was honestly adorable. You licked your lips and walked closer, your hand going over the curve of his ass. He looked so damn good like this as your eyes took in his form. The blush crept up to his ears and the back of his neck as he waited patiently for your reply.

“Ya, this is good,” you said while your hand trailed to the front of his pants. You pressed down as soon as you felt his cock through the fabric of his jeans. He gasped as he tried rolling his hips into the touch, and you chuckled, “So needy already, huh, little dove,” you said as you undid the buttons of his pans.

It was easy enough to begin pulling his pants and underwear down. Once they got to the crook of his knees, you tapped his legs, “Adjust yourself so I can take these off,” you muttered, watching as he obeyed. You could see his cock hanging between his legs, hot and heavy. The tip glistened with his own arousal, and you had barely even done anything.

“So cute…” you breathed out, your hand going back to his ass. You were entranced by the flesh there, round and perfect. You couldn’t help but give it a playful slap, watching it jiggle. Xavier let out a small moan at the contact and tried looking back at you with a pout.

“W-what was that for?” he said; he already sounded so damn turned on with how his voice was taking a huskier tone. It was still the same gentle rumble you were used to, but this version had a little something extra that had your underwear slickening up.

“Just wanted to watch your ass shake,” you casually commented, “Now spread your legs for me a bit,” you tapped his inner thigh in encouragement. He did as you said, shifting to open up his legs as you stared at his cute little hole.

“Why would you wa-ah!” he let out a surprised noise when he felt something wet trailing over his ass. He could see you smirking, your mouth open, and your tongue lolling out. Saliva dripped down your damp tongue as it went over to his hole. Your hands were now gripping his ass and holding it apart so you could get the spit right where you want it. 

You put your tongue back in your mouth, “Were you saying something?” you asked, one finger now trailing over his puckered hole. You gently prodded at it, not pushing in just yet but letting him feel the slightest pressure. It had him flinching away from your touch as his face lit up.

“N-no…” he huffed, knowing you were teasing him. He bit back a groan at the sensation of your fingers sliding in slightly. The sensation was new and foreign but not entirely uncomfortable. Then he watched as you adjusted yourself on the bed, getting close enough that your breath ghosted over it, “W-wait, you can-hng,” he moaned out when your tongue licked at him.

“Just relax, bunny,” you cooed and then pressed your tongue again to his asshole. He shivered as he felt the wet muscle slipping slightly into him. Now, this was something he couldn’t even imagine feeling. How your tongue seemed to make him squirm, his body twitching under as you held his ass open for you to tongue fuck him shallowly.

He was so cute, the noises he was trying to withhold occasionally coming out, and it was all you could do to not just fuck him straight into the mattress. You wanted him to be well and prepared this time around. Maybe next time, you could be a bit more harsh in your scene, but for now, you just wanted to watch him squirm and eventually cry out because of the pleasure.

You leaned away, pressing a quick kiss to his ass cheek and letting him calm down. The front of his body collapsed onto the mattress as he took a pillow and held it close to him. He pressed one cheek into another pillow, panting as he tried to not get too excited. You could see how his cock twitched, though, now drooling onto the sheets below him.

You grabbed the bottle of lube you had tossed to the side, flicking the cap open and drizzling some into your hand. You massaged it a little, getting it warm before your hand finally was ready to open him up. He gasped a touch when he felt your finger pressing against his entrance. Due to how your tongue went in, your finger could easily glide. You could feel just how tight and warm he was as he whimpered into the pillows.

“Xav, you gotta relax, honey,” you said, working your finger in him as you slowly slid it in and out. You could feel the more you did it, the more he managed to loosen up around you. Soon, you could work a second finger in, and this time, you heard a loud whimper from him.

You looked down to see his eyes widen in shock, then he quickly buried his face into the pillow underneath him. It was clear he was trying to make it so you couldn’t hear him anymore, and for now, it would be fine. You’d have him singing in no time when the strap was nestled inside him.

For now, you worked slowly, spreading your fingers into him and letting him adjust to the intrusion. Xavier swore he had never felt anything like this. He hadn’t expected you to be so damn bold, but he wouldn’t say he disliked it. He had heard about pegging a few times and had been interested, but he didn’t think you’d be the one to set it on the table. Now that he was here, legs spread open as your fingers nestled themselves into his warmth, he was thanking every deity out there for your confidence.

“How are you feeling, bunny?” You asked, your fingers now quickly thrusting inside of him. You watched as he shook under your touch, occasionally twitching as he fought himself not to roll his ass into your hand. You could see him nod, and you tsked, “Use your words, I need to know,” you said.

Xavier moved his face from the pillow for a second to speak, “F-fine,” he said, and then his eyes widened, his jaw almost slack in a moan as your fingers hit something inside of him. You could see it, just how good it made him feel. His face quickly retreated back into the pillows, though, before you could see more. It didn’t stop your fingers from playing with that spot. You could hear the little whimpers coming from the pillows and how loud he was.

“Such a good boy,” you cooed, “I think you’re ready for my strap, don’t you think?” you shoved a sliver of mercy as you took your hands out of him, holding his ass in your hands as you waited. He didn’t seem to respond, so you pinched his cheek, making his head jolt up to look back at you. He was pouting, his lip jutting out from your audacity.

“I asked you a question,” you said and watched his expression turn confused, “Are you ready for my cock, pretty boy?” Now, his eyes widened as he swallowed a lump in his throat.

“I…ya,” he managed to get out. It was good enough for you, though, as you sat up and leaned over his body. Your hand was gripping his chin and quickly kissing him. It was over before he could return it, looking at your smirking face.

“Alright, you wait right here then,” you got up and off the bed with Xavier’s eyes on you, watching like a hawk. You looked back at him, those beautiful cerulean eyes now looking almost black from how turned on he was. You put on a little show, slowly taking off your shirt and then playing with the hem of your pants. You bent over, showing off your own ass as you took them off, and Xavier saw for the first time you hadn’t even bothered with underwear.

You grabbed the harness and made quick work of getting it on. You had practiced extensively when buying this one to be fast and efficient. The fake cock nestled between your legs, the blue of it was shiny and would look so good against Xavier’s skin.

His eyes watch as you approach the bed, getting on it once more and settling yourself right behind him. You playfully tapped the fake dick on his ass, letting him feel the cold steel of it. He shivered as he tried looking forward now, knowing if he stared head-on, he might combust.

“Lift your ass up a little more, Xayxay,” You said as you went to grab the lube. He listened, lifting himself up, and you watched as he actually shook his ass a bit so you could watch the jiggle. You smirked at the sight as you popped the cap open once more, pouring a generous amount all over the toy and stroking it languidly.

“You’re just too damn cute, Xav; now be a good bunny and relax, okay?” you said, your heart already beating at the thought of getting to the main course of the evening, “This strap isn’t that big since it’s your first time,” you assured him. You could see how tense he was as you went to push up his hoodie to expose the expanse of his back. Your hand trailed over the muscles there, and you couldn’t help but think about how slutty his waist looked like this. He was absolutely made to be bred.

You gently rub the tip of the artificial cock over his entrance, watching as his hips initially flinched away before relaxing once again. The tip prodded gently at his opening, slowly slipping into it. Xavier nuzzled his face into the pillows below, trying to stop you from hearing the long whine in the back of his throat as you slipped into his waiting hole.

He’s gasping by the time you bottom out, breaths coming out in small pants. He felt like he could fall apart at any moment, his cock twitching between his legs as he realized just how neglected it had been this entire time. The tip was an angry red at this point, considering how bad he needed to release, but you were smart enough not to let him get to that point just yet.

You could still see how tense he was, clearly having issued just letting go and being a cute little slut for you. Your hands went to his side, pinching his hip and making him gasp, “Relax, bunny, it’s alright,” you said, keeping your voice as gentle as possible. He was blushing like mad, and you wished you had taken his hoodie off so you could see just how far it traveled down his back. He did feel so fucking hot underneath you, though, and he looked sexy as all hell.

The toy disappeared perfectly into him as your hips were flush against him. You heard a shaky breath coming from him, and you decided to finally move inside of him. You worked your angle, recalling how your fingers had managed to hit his prostate earlier. You knew you managed to angle it correctly when you saw his knuckles turning white from his grip.

Still, it was too quiet. Sure, you could hear his moans from the pillow, but it was muffled, “Xavier, I want to hear you,” you said, your hips slowly fucking into him and hitting his sweet spot. If he was good, you’d reward him by properly drilling this cock into him, but for now, he had to learn to obey.

You could hear the small whimper and how his head shook side to side to let you know that wouldn’t happen. You purse your lips for a moment, realizing he decided to be disobedient at a time like this. You looked over at the leash that lay abandoned next to him and smirked.

Your hand grabbed the leash tightly, and then you tugged. You heard the choked noise of Xavier as his head snapped up, eyes wide like saucers, as you took that exact moment to slam roughly into him. He almost screamed at this, letting out a loud moan that was shortly followed by a nearly pathetic whimper.

“I said,” another harsh thrust, “I wanted to,” he was moaning so damn loud you were sure you’d have noise complaints, “Hear you!” one more slam and his moaning turned into another whine. He looked back at you, and you could see the start of a tear in the corner of his eyes. His mouth hung open and lips glistening with saliva, and fuck, he must’ve been drooling into the damn pillow, “I told you I wanted to hear you moaning, not complaining, little dove,”

“Please,” he started as he felt you moving inside of him, slamming into his sweet spot, “G-gentle hng, fuuuu-” he whined again. His eyes squeezed shut as he took it all in, trying desperately to get accustomed to the stimulation you were providing. 

“Gentle?” You asked, tugging again on the leash, “You decided to disobey, and now you’re making requests?” you tilted your head now as you slammed your dick directly into his prostate now. The loud clapping noise of your pelvis meeting his ass with every stroke seemed to reverberate through the room alongside his cacophony of moans.

“S-sorr mhm-ple-please,” he begged, and it was enough for you to sigh. You hated how soft you were for him and his gentle begging as his eyes looked back at you. A tear now stained his cheek as he finally let it fall. He looked absolutely wrecked, and you hadn’t even done anything too extreme. It made you wonder what he would be like when edged, maybe overstimulated…or both.

“Is my little bunny feeling good?” You chuckled, deciding to give in and slow your thrusting. It was still hitting his sweet spot with every stroke, but at least now it wasn’t straight-up abusing it.

“Y-yes agh-fu-so so good, mhm!” he whined out, and he sounded like a pornstar; it was a shame you hadn’t asked him if you could record. The mental image of him like this would be burned into your memory for weeks. You already knew damn well you’d be fucking yourself later as you thought about his begging, or perhaps you’d ride him like a toy after he recovered.

You watched his back arching into you so perfectly, his hips going to meet your thrusts as he finally seemed to have given in to the moment. Lust had clearly clouded his rational thoughts at this point as he let his noises run free, whimpering and occasionally begging while calling out your name.

“Alright, Xav, if I let go of your leash, do you promise to let me continue listening to your sweet little moans?” you asked, tugging slightly to remind him of his position. You could see him nodding; it was enough for you to release him. He fell back onto the bed, cheek pressed into the mattress as he let out a small, choked sob. He was so fucking close, but something was keeping him from coming, but with how his brain was mush, he couldn’t think of a reason until he felt it.

Your warm hand was wrapping around his weeping cock. He let out an almost howl as he was so fucking sensitive right now, and in only a few strokes, his vision was turning white. You could see little glimmers of light around him as his evol seemed to flicker.

Cum painted your hand as you worked him through. You hadn’t expected him to bust the moment you touched him, but it was honestly adorable how he did. You looked at the tears on his cheeks as he whimpered at how you didn’t seem to let up at all. He was shaking and panting as he worked through it all until, finally, he was flinching from your touch, feeling like it was all too much.

You stilled your hips, the cock still nestled into him. You leaned down, pressing a kiss to his cheek and nuzzling him, “Such a good job, baby boy,” you muttered, “Imma take it out now. Is that okay?” you asked, watching as he seemed to nod. He was so out of it, his eyes glazed over as he lay limp under you. He did let out a slight whine as he felt the cock leaving his body, though.

You quickly unclipped it, letting it fall from your waist and tossing it to the side. You then grabbed Xavier’s hips and fell off to the side with him in tow. The mattress bounced as your body flopped onto it, spooning him.

“Xavier,” you whispered in his ear in your newfound spooning position. He gasped a little at feeling your breath ghosting over the shell, “Open your mouth,” you now pressed a kiss right underneath his ear. His breath caught in his throat as he seemed to squirm from the slightest of teasing.

Xavier didn’t know what to expect at first but complied, opening his mouth for you. You pressed your cum coated hand to his lips, “Go ahead and clean me off, okay?” you instructed. He whimpered, but he’d do just about anything at this point. His tongue lapped at his release, licking up his cum that was all over your hand. He grimaced from how bitter it was but didn’t want to know what you’d do if he didn’t listen.

He swallowed what coated his tongue and breathed out, “D-done…” he said, and you hummed, pressing your thumb to his lip.

“Good boy, so good for me,” you kissed the back of his neck, your hand trailing to his hips and rubbing them gently, “You feeling okay?” you finally asked as you unclipped his leash, tossing it to the side so he wouldn’t accidentally choke himself in case he fell asleep like this.

Xavier shifted in your hold, turning to his other side to face you. His hand reaches up to cup your cheek and brings you in for a proper kiss. You melted into it instantly, closing your eyes and savoring how soft his lips felt against your own. The wet smacking of you two was the only thing you could hear as he breathed against you.

“It was really good,” he said with a small smile, “Think this is enough to take down Heartbreaker?”

You actually laughed, your eyes dancing with amusement as you recalled the entire reason you had gotten him into this position. You leaned in for another kiss, and when you parted, you wiggled enough to kiss his forehead.

“Ya, I think this is fine…but for good measure, maybe we should take a nap and try some other things when we wake up,” you suggested, and now you could see Xavier smiling at the idea.

“That sounds good to me…” he yawned and then nuzzled into you, “Sleep…then more sex,”

I regret absolutely nothing, as per usual. He is my bottom bitch. My little bunny.

[artinvain]

your darker sevika fic ideas have my brain going brrrrrrrrrrrrrr and i think we must be on similar wavelengths because lately i've been thinking about reader being obsessive and stalker-ish toward sevika and sevika just finding it charming 'cause she's a little fucked up like that ugh i love her

good lordddyyyy

cw: stalking, slight violence, blood mention, smut, dark!reader

(men, minors, ageless and blank blogs dnf)

It starts off small, you start training to serve at the last drop and sevika is your first customer. you’re flustered and she’s laying it on thick with charm just to see you smile. she can tell you’re taken and it just makes we want to woo you more. It seems different, you don’t want anything from sevika - you seem to want to give things to her.

you’re both immediately enamoured, sevika much less revealing about it. you start to ask around about her not knowing it would get to her but it does.

then she sees you in babette’s she’s pissed because “why did you start working here?” she spits when you come to the table. In all honesty it’s because you know where she likes to go, and you wanted to make sure of something.

“I needed the extra money, I’m just bar tending sevika I promise,” you seem to reassure her, even though she doesn’t deserve it - you two don’t know each other.

“I’ll get you a whiskey,”

when you leave, you take a detour in the back of the kitchen to the rooms. lottie was one of Sevika’s favourites and she had a big mouth.

you figured if you could get your message to lottie she would surely pass it on.

“charlotte,” you whisper and she crooks her head at you, watching you in the threshold of the door through the vanity mirror.

“what do you want?” lottie spits. you were new around and you asked too many questions, you were some kind of freak she’d heard - a new one to town speaking of practicing arcane and all kinds of nonsense

“I need to ask you for something,” you ask smiling small and locking the door behind you. lottie stands and faces you, she stands close like she’s trying to be intimidating. but there wasn’t a bone in you that cared.

she was trying to hold on to someone who did not belong to her. sevika was yours.

“and what’s that?”

“I like you lottie - so I’m warning you. stay away from sevika,” you place a hand gingerly on her cheek and she frowns in confusion.

“sevika has lots of girls”

“that’s why you’ll warn them,” you nod and your nails sink into the skin on her belly button, you rip the ring from her stomach and let it clatter to the floor as she does with a scream.

you sigh and kneel over her as she scrambles away from you, “you’re a fucking freak,” she gasps, red seeping down her skirt. “I hope you can heed my warning before something serious happens,” you say and leave her room.

when you get back to your tables sevika is gone, and everyone refuses your service, you couldn’t do shit and you were tipped any. by the end of the night babette lets you go.

when sevika goes back the next day she’s satisfied to see you gone. smirked at the thought of turning one of her girls over imagining you whining out her name below her.

only none of her girls will even see her, the scamper away - more afraid than usual, looking around paranoid.

when she finds out (because she will always find out) she can’t help but lean back in her chair and chuckle

she’s always the one chasing, the one possessing and to have someone want her so desperately.

it makes her hips buck. oh she’s fucked.

and then she starts getting gifts, food and knitted sweaters and baked goods and letters - poetry and “I hope I’m not too forward - I just want to make sure you’re taken care of,”

you never sign your name and you don’t have to.

she’s not surprised when — as she walks through your apartment, fingering as your lingerie and looking over your book titles — you walk into your apartment and you don’t scream.

“sevika,” you exhale, “you’re here,” you approach her slowly.

sevika pulls you in close and cups the back of your head.

“you could’ve been in serious trouble for what you did to lottie if I didn’t protect you,” she mumurs into your ear and toy swallow.

“I’m sorry, she just wouldn’t back off and I told her to. it was a warning,” you say looking over her face and all you see is soft grey eyes and furrowed brows and bitten lips.

“why?”

“because I belong to you sevika and you have to see that you belong to me too,” you whine desperately and sevika swoops down to kiss you, pressing her hips against yours.

“so you’ll do anything I say?”

“of course,” you mumble against her lips as her hands squeeze your ass

she has you brought to her loft and she’s kissing every piece of flesh she reveals.

“oh fuck good girl, better than anyone else - shit, look so pretty letting me ride your face.”

sevika groans as she holds your head still and fucks your waiting tongue, twisting against her and tasting her.

and then she’s laying herself over you, strap sliding in deep as your eyes roll back.

“m’gonna come home to you every day and fuck you senseless,” she moans as she winds her hips “gotta make sure my pretty little housewife is all taken care of,”

you whine backing into her and yelling into the pillows as she rubs your clit.

😚🏷️ @lesbian-useless @archangeldyke-all @sexysapphicshopowner @sevsbaby @iamaboringrattat @lavendersgirl @bimboprincezz @opropheticsoul @ariariarr @femme-historian

[factcheckingmclennon]

harry nilsson quotes double feature: fact or fiction?

"Someone told me a few minutes ago they saw John walking on the street [once] wearing a sign saying – a button, rather, saying 'I Love Paul'. And this girl who told me that said she asked him, 'Why are you wearing the button that says ‘I Love Paul’?' He said, 'Because I love Paul.'" -Harry Nilsson

"I'm just like everybody else, Harry, I fell for Paul's looks." Harry Nilsson (on John)

these quotes get passed around unsourced, or wrongly sourced, constantly. so...

are these harry nilsson quotes about john lennon real?

shockingly, after getting an anon correction on the first one and then discovering myself on the second one through the world's most random search engine imaginable bc SOMETHING felt unfinished...... the final verdict for both?

...ish? the second one is sort of neutral bc it's taken a bit out of context but i'll get to that

let's get into it, because this one took me on a journey!

(and btw the sources on these were SUCH a pain in the ass to find due to lack of sourcing & wrong sourcing so i am on my hands and knees for these to get passed around w the proper sources now that they're in one place bc they're so good)

first of all, these quotes keep getting mixed up and messed around with different wording. which was my first road block on finding a proper source. second of all, they have been wrongly attributed to a) one single interview together and/or b) a rolling stone interview with nilsson. this made things aggravating. but in the end, an anon sent me the audio for the first quote and for the second one i FINALLY found someone a looong while back actually naming the book it's in & successfully found it!

made a post earlier concluding both were fake, but we just had to go a little deeper folks.

anyway, onto the good shit

who was harry nilsson? he was a friend of john's, specifically during his 1974 lost weekend era. they lived together for a while (along with others, including ringo!) and were pretty close.

"because i love paul"

this one gets misquoted the Most honestly like you'll find a bunch of different variations of it, but you can find it in a 1984 interview with geoffrey giuliano as such:

GIULIANO: Did he miss the Beatles? Was he mournful about what happened, over the, you know—? HARRY: Someone told me a few minutes ago they saw John walking on the street [once] wearing a sign saying – a button, rather, saying ‘I Love Paul’. And this girl who told me that said she asked him, “Why are you wearing the button that says ‘I Love Paul’?” He said, “Because I love Paul.” [laughs]  

(source) (and again, it's a tumblr blog, but given that it's audio, i'm marking it trustworthy. i just uploaded it to archive.org in case it ever gets deleted)

"i fell for paul's looks"

this one. this one was a goddamn journey and a half. this sent me on several rabbit holes and dead ends. the author of the last source said "nope it's definitely not from the tapes i found this audio from or i would've posted it too" and couldn't find the source either. no one had a source. until finally i found someone on a forum saying it was in the ballad of john and yoko published by rolling stone in 1984, in an essay titled "harry remembers" and thank christ it was on archive.org

so here's the full quote, found on page 236

"He spoke the way James Joyce wrote. And to me he was the Beatles. He was always the spark. In a late wee-hours-of-the-morning talk, he once told me: 'I'm just like everybody else, Harry. I fell for Paul's looks. George knew more chords, so he was in. And Ringo, he's just Ringo.'"

(source)

so this one gets a... true/neutral rating from me. why neutral? well, the "i fell for paul's looks" part is certainly there. but in the full context, he's talking about why he wanted each member in the beatles. basically, paul was the pretty face. however, he did say that verbatim and it is incredibly fucking gay imo. like specifically the "i fell for" wording is craaaaazy to me. but i do think the full context should be included if we're talking about it, as well as the actual source.

so no, they were not indeed both from the same interview. one isn't even FROM an interview. but they are both true! which is great bc i love both of these quotes and truly thought they were fake! pleasantly surprised on this one

now, take these with a grain of salt. the first quote is a third-hand source. it's nilsson recounting what some random fan told him john had done YEARS prior. the second one is a second-hand source and nilsson and john were like pretty infamous for getting drunk/high together. but the quotes themselves? certainly exist from harry nilsson, and that's the question. believe them if you want to, or leave them! i'm certainly taking them lmao

[vhagarlovebot]

HELPING HAND.

♡. ── gif credit. ; ( aemond targaryen masterlist. )

pairing: aemond targaryen x fem!reader.

summary: when aemond confides in you that he’s never laid with a woman, you make sure to change that.

content warnings: 18+, canon typical incest, unprotected p in v, curse words, loss of virginity, handjob, cockwarming, praise, inexperienced!aemond, a bit of fluff. block the tag “★. dark themes!” if you don’t want to see my dark content.

note: well, hello ! here’s another one of the works i posted on my old blog and just recently found. i edited it the best i could, so you’re probably still going to see some very poor grammar and it’s because i’d just started writing in english and because of that it is completely normal for me to still have problems writing in a language that isn’t mine. i really hope you enjoy! reblogs and likes are greatly appreciated.

BEFORE YOU KNOW WHAT’S HAPPENING, aemond’s lips are on yours. you whimper, surprised but quite pleased, because you’d be lying if you say you haven’t thought about kissing him in many different scenarios.

his lips are soft and sweet, but you can tell he is insecure and that is why his movements are sloppy, he keeps his hands away from your body not knowing where to place them; but you need his touch, his warmth, and so you guide his hands to rest on your waist.

you wouldn’t be surprised if you’re the first girl he’s ever kissed.

without breaking the kiss, you move from your spot on the bed to sit on his lap, legs on either side of his body.

“your lips are soft.” you whisper against his swollen lips, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“yours taste like cherry.” his voice comes out raspy, eyes locked on yours. “i like it.”

yoi cup his cheeks and kiss him again. this time you’re hungry for him, smashing your lips against his own. and he lets you know he likes it holding you tighter against his body as your fingers travel down his head and tug at his hair, tilting his head back to expose his throat you start to suck, intending on marking him right below the collar of his button down.

he gasps, pants tightening. your fingers work fast unbuttoning his shirt, his smooth and pale skin screaming for your touch. you bite down on his neck and he groans, pulling you away.

aemond pupil is dilated, lips parted and red. you shudder at the view, so wrecked just by an intense make-out session. but you want more.

you take your top off, your bra following shortly after, and nod at him to do the same; he’s quick to obey. it’s like he goes into a trance the moment he sees your chest, and you think you can cum just by the sight of him.

“you can touch me.” he makes eye contact for a few seconds, and then lowers his gaze, swallowing. you know he wants you but he’s too nervous to do things on his own, so you help him by guiding both of his hands to your breasts. they’re cold and the friction they create makes you close your eyes and arch your back, palms rubbing against your nipples and hard cock pressing against the fabric of your undergarments.

once you feel he has gained confidence, your hands move slowly over his chest, caressing him softly as you start to kiss his neck. you drag your nails down until they’re at the waistline of his pants and, not wasting any time, you unbuckle his belt.

his jaw drops, taking a sharp breath as he lifts his hips up so you can remove his belt and lower his pants. and when your hand comes in contact with soft flesh, the sound he makes soaks your panties.

aemond squeezes your breasts, making you whine. “easy, pretty boy.”

you giggle, sucking on his bottom lip as you pump his cock. he’s panting, eyes rolled back and desperate. his hands are everywhere on your body, coming to a halt when he lifts your skirt, squeezing the soft flesh of your ass.

aemond whines, thrusting into your hand. “are you close, love?” you ask into his ear, increasing the pace of your hand, while your other hand lifts his chin up. his face is flushed and he’s trying really hard to not let himself go. “i got you, aemond.”

and that’s all he needs to cum in your hand, grasping your waist so hard you know his hands will leave bruises. he groans loudly, and you immediately cover his mouth.

you look at your hand and then at him, who’s resting his head against the headboard with his eyes closed, and you clean it on his chest making a mess between cum and sweat.

“fuck.” aemond murmurs, opening his eyes.

“we’re not finished.” you leave a quick kiss on lips before lifting your hips and moving your panties to the side. “you can take it. right, pretty boy?” he hums, eyes fixed on what he can see of your cunt. “i need you to look me in the eyes and say it.”

aemond gulps and his big violet eye looks at you pleading, the head of his cock brushing against your cunt. “i can take it. please.”

you grab hold of his shoulders, and sink down. slowly. the look on aemond’s face, contorted in pleasure, and the sounds coming out of your mouth creating an intense and seductive atmosphere. he holds you tight against his chest and groans, closing his eye tightly.

“you’re so big.” you whisper, his hands returning to your ass, helping you slide down further.

aemond sucks in a ragged breath as you lift your hips up again, just to sink down completely onto his cock. you move slowly at first, teasing him, wanting to hear him beg, but he sees right through you and squeezes your flesh as he starts thrusting into you. you moan, ducking your face into his neck, trying to muffle those sounds.

“oh my gods, please.” you don’t know what you’re asking for, but is like a praise falling from your lips over and over and over again.

your walls tighten around him and aemond moans so loud you fear someone would hear you, and then you’ll be in big trouble. your hand covers his mouth while you look for something, anything, and your eyes fall on a black leather belt by your side. without saying a word you hold it closer to his lips and aemond opens his mouth not giving it a second thought, blindly trusting you.

“such a good boy.” you say, taking control by lifting yourself up on your knees, fucking him rough. you reach between your bodies to rub circles into that sensitive bud that makes you bite your lips so hard you taste your own blood. “i know you’re close. cum with me.”

you keep grinding on him, tits bouncing with every movement, and it doesn’t take much more before aemond is cumming inside of you, groaning onto his belt, eye closed and a blissful face that sends you over the edge.

you hold your breath, head falling backwards and tights clenching around him. you try to steady your breathing as you come down, legs shaking.

neither of you speaks, all you can hear are your rapid breaths, and when you meet his gaze, he kisses your neck, inhaling your scent. his cock softens but he doesn’t move, and you don’t want to move either, so you stay there; your hands stroking his silver locks. you pull him back to look at him, and you notice that his eye is glazed over and there’s sweat covering his lovely, flushed face. a part of you can’t believe what just happened, but the other part couldn’t be happier. and satisfied.

“can we stay like this for a little while?” aemond asks with a raspy voice and swollen lips, a smile forming on his face. you nod and he buries his face into your neck, arms around your waist while yours are around his neck, rubbing his back.

and when aemond starts to hum a little tune, you know you’re exactly where you want to be.

[tip-top-cloud-surfer]

What If I Never Get Over You? - Rooster

Pairing: Rooster / Naval Aviator! Reader/OC (Callsign: Nova)

Length: 3.3k

This work, all my works, and my entire blog are 18+ Only

Warnings: Exes That Are Still in Love (and Denial); Jealousy; Rooster is Bad at Feelings; Reader is Bad at Feelings; Using Other People for Jealousy; Somewhat Toxic Relationships; Struggles to Communicate; Implied Sexual Content; Reader with a Callsign but No Physical Description

Summary: Rooster and Nova broke up a few months ago. With the Dagger Squad party looming, can they prove that they're over each other?

Master List

The men’s locker room was full after a long day of training. Rooster barely had the energy to raise his hands to rub shampoo through his curls and settled for a quick soap and rinse before stepping out of the shower. Securing his towel around his waist, Rooster sluggishly walked over to his locker.

“So, who’s everyone bringing to the team party?” Hangman asked, always ready to stir up shit, even after a long day.

Actually, Hangman was in his prime after a long day. Everyone else’s defenses were pushed down by exhaustion and frustration. It was easier to press buttons and get answers because everyone’s filters disappeared when their bodies were aching and tired. 

“Phoenix and I are going together,” Bob stated, causing Hangman to scoff.

“Boring. Who’s everyone else bringing?” 

“Your mom,” Fanboy called back. 

“My wife,” Payback answered, his tone matching Fanboy’s with slightly less irritation. 

“Who are you bringing anyways, Hangman?” Yale asked, causing most of the locker room to turn back to Hangman. 

“You know the new bartender at the Hard Deck?” he spoke, wiggling his eyebrows.

“No way,” Coyote snorted, shaking his head. “She’s out of your league. And there’s no way that Penny didn’t warn her about you.” 

“Guess you’ll just have to wait until the party then,” Hangman replied confidently before turning to Rooster. “What about you, Rooster? Have a special friend that you haven’t told anyone about yet?” 

“Haven’t asked anyone yet,” Rooster retorted, pulling his jeans up his long legs. 

“Any ideas? Bob took your usual date.” 

While Hangman and most of the group was focused on Rooster, Omaha closed his locker and headed out for the day. Once the door shut behind Omaha, however, Harvard was quick to spill the tea.  

“I still can’t believe that Nova agreed to go out with Omaha,” he told Payback and Fanboy, who shared a surprised look.

“Nova’s going with Omaha to the team party?” Fanboy repeated, just loud enough.

“Nova’s going out with Omaha?” Hangman asked, unable to hide his surprise. But his surprise was quickly replaced by his usual smirk. “Thank you, Harvard. Now that is the kind of stuff I was looking for.” 

Rooster focused on his locker in front of him. His jaw was locked into place, and he wasn't in the mood for Hangman's games today.

It wasn’t exactly a secret that he and Nova used to date. Had dated. Were exes. Whatever it was called, it happened between them. Three years. Three years of their lives just went down the drain and they still couldn’t be free of each other. Things were cordial and less awkward, but neither of them was happy with it.

There was a reason why you weren’t supposed to fall in love with your squadmates. 

“I think that they’re just going to the party together, that’s all,” Bob replied, glancing over at Rooster worriedly. 

 “How do you know it’s not more?” 

Rooster slammed his locker shut with an audible thud before grabbing his bag. When Rooster stormed out of the room, Coyote nudged Hangman in the side.

“You know that he’s not over her,” Coyote reminded him, earning a nod from Bob.

“So, she’s not allowed to move on?” Hangman countered, pulling on his shirt. “They didn’t work out and that sucks, but they’re adults. He’s not a kicked puppy. And what she does isn't his concern anymore. It all happened months ago.” 

Meanwhile, Rooster walked out of the building, heading for the parking lot. He reached his truck and placed his bag down in his trunk. Reaching for the door, Rooster paused when he saw Nova talking to Omaha, who was leaning on her car with the kind of smile that Rooster used to send her. The kind of smile that would encourage her to lean up and press a loving kiss to his lips.

Slowly closing his trunk door, Rooster stare at Nova and Omaha for a moment, trying to not grind his teeth together. 

They were done with each other. But it still stung to see her with Omaha because Rooster couldn’t find something wrong with him. If she was hanging around with a guy like Hangman, Rooster might have even had a spring in his step. But Omaha? He had a chance at giving Nova more than Rooster ever could.

Fuck. He needed to find a date.

~~~~~

“That’s the girl that he’s bringing to the party?” Nova asked as she stood out on the back deck. 

The Dagger Squad went out to the Hard Deck after an early end to the day. A few of the guys were challenging some sailors to a volleyball game out behind the Hard Deck and the cheers and calls from the competition could be heard from inside the bar. Nova, Phoenix, and Halo had gone inside to grab a drink when Bob came walking over with some news. 

And now the game was the last thing on Nova’s mind as she stared at the rather bouncy woman standing on the boardwalk. She was clapping and cheering loudly whenever the Dagger Squad won a point. And when Rooster blew the woman a kiss after his ace, Nova was on high alert.  

“Where did he meet her?” Phoenix asked, turning to her wizzo. “I’ve never seen her before. And he hasn’t mentioned her.” 

“A dating app, I think. I don’t really know; he was talking to Fritz and Payback about it.” 

“How long have they been going out?” Halo questioned, glancing at Nova out of the corner of her eye. “One date?”

“Two, I think.” 

“And then he asked her to the team party?” Phoenix inquired quietly.

“He’s always running headfirst into things when he’s pissed,” Nova muttered, speaking from experience. “And you know, I bet that he got on that dating app the night after he had that weird conversation with Neil. And then he goes and invites a complete stranger to the team party?”

Nova scoffed, setting down her beer, and folding her arms across her chest. Halo shared a look with Phoenix, who didn’t appear to disagree with Halo as she took a sip of her own drink. Nova shook her head and sat up again.

“And you know what? Do you think that he would have asked her out if he didn’t find out that Neil and I were going to the party together? I’ll tell you.”

Phoenix and Halo were careful to measure their responses, but poor Bob became Nova’s target of letting out her inner frustration about Rooster’s choice. Did Nova have any right to complain? Probably not. Okay, no she didn’t. 

But she felt like it. 

“I can’t believe that he would pull something like that,” Nova scoffed, shaking her head. 

“I mean, he’s single. He can bring whoever he wants to the party,” Halo pointed out softly. “And you did break up with him.”

“Well, yeah, but . . .”

“And he’s had a hard time. Maybe it’s a good thing that he’s asking a random woman to the party. It means that he’s moving on,” Phoenix added, causing Nova to shrink into herself more.

“Yeah,” Nova agreed quietly again. 

“And you’re focused on Omaha anyways, right?” Halo asked, a little protective over her pilot. 

“Of course, I am,” Nova assured her. “Sorry, I just . . . Bradley and I just have this ability to push each other’s buttons. And I need to get better at ignoring him.”

“You guys were together for a long time,” Phoenix replied with a shrug. “It happens.”

“Yeah, it does.”

Phoenix, Halo, and Bob made their way down to watch the volleyball game, but Nova decided to stay back. Sitting on one of the stools, she took a long sip of her beer when Rooster waved over to the mystery woman after scoring another point. And with a bit of a sinking feeling in her chest, Nova got up and walked past the volleyball court, heading for the ocean to be alone. 

As she walked off, she missed how Rooster paused when he saw that she wasn’t standing with Phoenix and Halo. He turned his head and saw her walking down to the ocean by herself. A forlorn expression tugged at his features, before they quickly hardened again when Rooster spotted Omaha jogging to catch up with Nova. 

Turning back to the game, Rooster leaned down with a sharp look in his eye, ready to hammer the ball down.

“You good, Rooster?” Hangman asked, gearing up to serve.

“I’m fine. Just serve it already.” 

~~~~~

The Kazansky house was decked out for the extended Dagger team party. Rooster was one of the first to arrive since he agreed to help set up. His date was going to come later, when there were more people there, and less of a chance that she would get stuck talking to Maverick. Getting himself a drink, Rooster paused when Nova stepped into the house. 

Her hair was simple, but yet elegant and framed her face well. She wore light makeup that enhanced her features but didn’t overwhelm her natural beauty. Her dress was long and complimented her figure and he wanted to run his lips all the way up the slit in the skirt. Or maybe along her exposed collarbone. 

But when he saw her turn to Omaha with a gentle smile, that dream shattered into a thousand pieces.

“I thought that you said that you were over her,” Maverick stated, taking a sip of his whiskey. Bradley shot him a sharp look in return. 

“I am over her,” Rooster insisted. “And I brought a date.”

“Alright,” Maverick agreed, raising a hand. “I’ll drop it.”

But Maverick’s expression as he walked off told Bradley that this wasn’t the end of their conversation. Sighing, Bradley took a sip of his drink before turning and finding something else to busy himself with until his date arrived. 

Nova was having a great time with Omaha and the other Daggers. The food was delicious. The drinks were flowing. Everyone was finally relaxing and letting loose. She was bonding and enjoying everyone’s company at the dinner table. And then with the ridiculous games that everyone challenged each other to after a few more drinks. 

But Nova couldn’t help but stare at Bradley and his date. 

They looked more comfortable with each other than she was expecting and the wine wasn’t dulling the ache in her chest at the sight of them.

It wasn’t fair for her to break up with him and then expect him to not move on. But that was different in theory than in reality. 

“So, you must be from Omaha then?” Rooster’s date asked Omaha.

Nova stood on Omaha’s other side and Bradley stood beside his date. It felt like they were using their dates as buffers to keep them away from each other. And Omaha and Rooster’s date didn’t seem to mind it because they were talking the most out of the four of them. Nova had gone quiet, and Rooster was mostly talking with Bob. 

“Indianapolis, actually. It was a Peyton Manning reference,” Omaha explained with a shrug.

“Really? My brother lives out there!” Rooster’s date spoke up. 

Nova glanced over at the two of them, watching them have a genuine conversation and looking like they were actually enjoying each other’s company. And when she glanced over at Rooster to see him still involved in his conversation with Bob, she sighed to herself. She’d had anxiety over this dinner for the past few days and she just needed a break. 

Excusing herself and sending Omaha an encouraging smile, Nova grabbed a drink and headed outside into the fresh air. She paused outside the door, taking a deep breath, before slowly walking over to the swing set. Nova sat down, kicked off her shoes, and took a sip of her drink. Leaning back against the swing, she closed her eyes and just rocked for a moment.

But when she heard footsteps, she opened her eyes and turned to see Bradley standing there.

He had to look so fucking perfect in that black suit. There was no way that he picked it himself. Ice must have taken him to a tailor. He never wore a bow tie when the two of them were dating and now he wore it like he was auditioning for James Bond. And of course, he had to give her that big brown eye stare that still made her melt.

“What are you doing out here?” Rooster asked her, tucking his hands into his pockets.

“You don’t have to check up on me, you know,” she mumbled quietly, staring down at the grass. “We’re not together anymore.”

“I’m aware,” Bradley replied, a bit tensely. Looking away for a moment, he turned back to Nova. “Did Omaha do something?”

“No, Bradley.”

“Was it something someone else did?”

“No, of course not.”

“Was it something I did?” he asked after a few quiet moments. She sighed, holding her hands to her face, taking a deep breath. “What did I do wrong, Nova?”

“It’s nothing, Bradley.”

“Don’t tell me it was nothing, Nova. Don’t tell me that you ended our relationship over nothing.”

She picked her head up from her hands and turned to Bradley, who was staring at her with such emotion that she had to look away unless she wanted to burst out into tears. 

“We talked about it.”

“Well, I want to talk about it again,” Bradley insisted, causing Nova to close her eyes. “I know that we weren’t perfect. I know that I wasn’t perfect. But why . . . why did you give up?”

“You think that I gave up?” Nova demanded, turning to him. “You really think that, Bradley?”

“It’s how I feel about it, yeah.” 

“Bradley, you are one of the most stubborn men that I have ever met in my life,” Nova stated, slowly getting up to her feet. “You are so stubborn that every time I tried to talk to you about what was bothering me, you just shut down and didn’t want to talk about it and thought that when I dropped it, the whole thing was resolved. But it wasn’t!” 

“I did shut down . . . you were right,” he added with a softer tone. “When I feel pushed emotionally, I shut down. I just went into survival mode because I developed the habit of shutting down to protect myself during my mom’s illness.” When Nova continued to stare at him like he had grown a second head, Rooster added, “I saw a therapist, okay?” 

“You went and saw a therapist?” Nova asked softly, causing Rooster to nod.

“I only did a few sessions, but . . . yeah, I went,” Rooster admitted, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “And then the mission and everything else happened and I thought that things would fall into place on their own. And . . . I was wrong.” 

“Bradley,” Nova sighed, trying to find the right words. 

“And look, whatever you have going on with Omaha . . . I won’t lie and say that I’m happy or thrilled about it, but—” 

“—Nothing is going on with Omaha,” Nova interjected, causing Rooster to noticeably perk up.

“Oh?” 

“We tried it out. Went on a few dates. We kissed a few times, but never went further than that because it just didn’t feel . . . right,” Nova explained, folding her arms across her chest. “We came here tonight together because we already agreed to go with each other and it was too late to find other dates.” 

“So, you and Omaha aren’t together?” 

“No, we’re not.” Nova glanced back at the house before turning back to Bradley. “And you and your date? Are you two . . .?” 

“No.”

“Does she know that?”

“I’m pretty sure that if she’s going home with anyone, it’ll be with your date,” Bradley stated honestly, causing Nova to raise an eyebrow. “We didn’t do anything more than make out.” Nova nodded slowly and Bradley chose to add, “She said that she wouldn’t sleep with me until she was convinced that I was over you.” 

“Oh.” 

“And I’m not, so . . .” Bradley trailed off, shrugging his shoulders. 

“Neither am I,” Nova admitted, voice barely above a whisper. 

Feeling his hope start to grow, Rooster took a careful step towards Nova. She stared straight into those stupidly soft brown eyes that still made her melt and furrowed her eyebrows as she warred with herself about the crossroads they were approaching.

“We have things to work on if we wanted to try and make it work,” she stated quietly as Bradley gently cupped her chin. 

“I know.” 

“And we can’t just pretend like the break up never happened.” 

“I agree,” Bradley responded, tilting her chin up more. 

“And we have to be honest with ourselves.” 

“Absolutely—” 

Nova leaned up and pressed her lips against Bradley’s, cutting off his affirmative. Rooster quickly pulled her closer, holding the back of her head gently as their lips moved together. It felt natural, it felt easy, it felt the way that it was supposed to feel. Wrapping her arms around his shoulders, Nova pressed herself against him as he rested his hands on her hips.  

“And we can’t,” Nova breathed, breaking away from the kiss. Rooster, taking advantage of her momentary distraction, pressed kisses down her throat and dragged his mustache just the way that he knew she liked down her skin. “We can’t take things too fast. We . . .” 

Dove’s eyes fluttered closed as Rooster started moving back up her throat. Digging her fingers into his curls, she tugged and pulled his lips back up to her own. 

~~~~~

Rooster snored as the early morning light filtered in through the blinds of his bedroom. His face was half-buried in his pillow, and he was in the middle of subconsciously shifting towards the center of his bed when his phone started to buzz. Rooster slammed his hand down onto the nightstand, searching for his phone. When he couldn’t find it, he groaned and rolled over.

Cracking his tired eyes open, Rooster let out some choice words as he sat up and saw that Maverick was calling him. He answered the call and held the phone up to his ear.

“What?” Rooster hissed quietly, clearly pissed. 

“Hey, Bradley. Just wanted to check on you. You left the party in a bit of a rush yesterday.” 

“I was tired. And I still am, Mav.” 

“Alright, alright. Just tell Nova that we found her bra in the backyard and we were wondering if she wanted it back or not.” When Bradley let out a choked noise in reply, Maverick added, “Well, I won’t interrupt your morning anymore. Give Nova my best.” 

Rooster groaned, burying his face in his pillow and dropping his phone onto the bed in defeat. From beside him, Nova rolled over. She was still half-asleep, and she didn’t fully open her eyes. When she buried herself in Rooster’s side, he naturally moved to pull her closer.

“Mav knows?” she asked quietly.

"He found your bra.” 

“Good. It’s my fancy one.”

Rooster let out a sigh before asking, “You’re going to make me get it for you, aren’t you?”

“Do you want me to have to answer Mav's questions about our relationship?”  

“I’ll grab it this afternoon,” Rooster agreed, curling his body around Nova and going back to sleep.

[vitamin-cunt]

hiii im a new follower and can i request a dabi x fem!domme!reader

format is full fic but if you want can you also add some headcanons at the end

kinks to add

•sadisim (reader

•masochism (dabi)

•dumbification

•frotteurism (ok idk if you make your fics automatically match with your blog theme [hospital for horny mfs like me] but can you make it so that dabi is a paitient of a hospital for sub people and reader is his most favorite doctor so theres alot of intimacy)

•master and pet themes (reader makes dabi wear a collar, very very short maid dress with frilly black lingerie, cat ears and a cat tail butt plug)

and can you make it so that the reader has a genital type quirk were reader can give people the genitals of the opposite gender and do it to herself without removing their original genital (ex. reader gives dabi a vagina and clit while still having a dick)

A/N: anon I'm in love with you. I'm on one knee rn, you have no idea (Tired asf gonna go proofread this in the morning)

CW: As stated in the ask above, GN! Pronouns, cock mentioned (can be interpreted as a strap tho), Dabi has a pussy at some point (idc, idc there's the door), fingering said pussy

Making a broken man of Dabi

What the fuck was he doing here?

Like, seriously, why the fuck was he here???

It was a strange situation, really. A hospital for incredibly lewd individuals to seek treatment-

And he of all people was here?

He didn't have lewd desires, just-

Well, fuck, he couldn't have normal sex but that didn't require an intervention or whatever this was.

He ran his tongue over his teeth as he rolled over in his hospital bed. Even the uniform was weird-

He was in a maid outfit. A black, short-ass maid dress.

"Awww, look at him blush~ Let me have him, I think we're gonna like each other."

His face burned furiosuly at the memory. When he was first admitted, he'd been uncooperative with pretty much everyone. The "doctors,"(if that's what you could even call them), the nurses, even other patients, because he wasn't like them, dammit!

He wasn't some sex-obsessed lunatic that fucked any hole in sight, he just-

He liked certain things. A lot more than most people did, but that was fine. At least he thought it was fine.

He'd scared off all but one of the staff.

You.

He couldn't make you disappear and, for whatever reason, he'd come to appreciate your presence.

You treated him more human than anyone did in this God-forsaken hell-hole. You checked on him, catered to his needs, listened to his moans and groans about this place...

He swallowed down the excitement as he realized you would be coming in today.

The one thing that set you apart from the staff was that you knew what buttons to press with him.

"I think this thong will look so cute on you~"

"You did such a good job touching yourself for me!"

"Be a good boy and lift your ass up just a little higher for me."

It was like you could read his mind.

Yeah, that was Dabi's "problem." He liked being a toy.

Your toy.

He'd always known he had a thing for being treated like shit, but he tried to keep it on the down-low.

Too bad Daddy dearest found out.

A knock came at his door, and before he could even sit up, you were entering the room, an oddly wide grin on your face.

"How's my favorite patient?"

He narrows his eyes and rolls over in his bed to face you and the door. In your hands was a duffel bag of god knows what. "You're only this happy when you have shit to try on me," he says, eyeing the bag and trying to guess what was making those bulges from every angle in it.

You laugh and ignore him despite his bite of a response. "God, Dabi, what did I tell you about keeping these blinds open?" You walk over to his window blinds and sharply close them shut, leaving the room in the eerie purple glow of the lights above. "How are you going to masturbate with any privacy in this place?"

"What, you want me in the dark all the fucking time?" He hoists himself up on one elbow and follows you as you unpack your supplies. "Yeah, the one thing that gets me hard is a dank-ass hospital room."

"Mmm, just that? Not your favorite doctor?" You fake a pout, hand halfway in the duffel. "Even after I stretched that ass last night? Even after I played with those tits?"

He throws his head back, outwardly in exasperation and inwardly with a humming arousal in his chest. Even his low sigh could be confused for an excited groan.

And one wouldn't be wrong in thinking that.

"Why do you always..." he covers his hot face, trying to put into words what he wanted to say without sounding absolutely pathetic.

But, how could one get any more pathetic laying in a maid outfit in a rehabilitation hospital for the most debauched and depraved sex-addicts?

He swallowed and began again. "You're always describing my body like...like...you know I don't have those parts, right?"

After a moment of silence, he peeks between his hand to find you smiling down at the cat ears and cat butt-plug in your hands.

Your favorites.

When you look up, its with a craze in your eyes. And why should he be surprised?

Only the most depraved could work here.

"You're saying it would make more sense to use those words if you had those..."parts?" You tilt your head innocently. Well, as innocently as someone could with a bottle of lube in their hands now accompanying the lewd accessories.

"I guess," he muttered, his hand sliding down to his jaw and muffle his voice.

He was glad you couldn't see his cock twitching to life beneath his skirt. He loved that face. The look in your eyes right before you fuck him dumb.

"Can I show you a trick?" you ask, approaching his bed and laying your "materials" next to him. "You know the position, get in it, baby," you command, before he can answer your first question.

It always takes some time to follow your first order, but he always does it. Even now, with his head buried in his folded arms and his ass in the air, exposing his thong.

"Happy?" he bites, even through the muffle of his pillow.

He hears you donning your gloves and next came the sound of lube squirting from a bottle.

"We'll tell the insurance this was a prostate exam."

A cold finger pushes itself against the entrance of his hole and then inside him, sliding in easily.

He groans in arousal and discomfort. He guessed it wasn't entirely an entirely normal thing to prefer the feeling of surgical gloves to human fingers, but why give this hospital further justification to keep him here?

"Don't rock, baby, I've told you this before."

Right. He was already fucking himself back against your fingers despite only one being inside.

Your other gloved hand rubs his ass, lifting up the skirt to see the skin beneath it.

"You're still a little red from yesterday, so I'm not gonna spank you today."

He simply nods, hypnotized when you slip in a second finger. And then a third, and, fuck, even a fourth.

This couldn't even count as prepping when you were hitting his g-spot so earnestly that you had him moaning into his pillow. But he had, notably, reduced his writhing because, dammit, you made him want to be obedient.

And just like that, you'd slipped your fingers out, leaving him feeling empty.

"Fuck, if you're gonna prep, then fucking prep, don't..." he swallows as he realized he'd crossed a line.

Never back talk.

"I-I just mean...because it's like you're teasing..." he stutters out weak follow-up after weak follow-up, trying to backtrack from his outburst.

But, to his shock, you don't get angry at him. You laugh, in fact. Soon, something metal was pressing against him and after a moment, the metal plug end of the cattail slips inside him and slotted itself perfectly as he'd grown accustomed to.

Even then he arches his back and pants.

What were you playing at?

Any other day you would have punished him to senseless tears for the way he talked to you, but now?

He's pulled from his pondering when you adorn him with the cat ears.

"On your back, Kitty," you say, walking away to change your gloves. He obeys, wondering if you were going to come back with a cock ring like you'd had last night.

But, besides the fresh pair of gloves, you'd come back empty-handed.

He was really concerned now, especially as you mounted the bed with a grin that left his thighs trembling and his mind buzzing.

"Fuck's going on?" He growled, testing his luck with his mouthiness.

You don't answer, instead choosing to lean forward and press your lips to his. He'd kissed you before, but this...

Why was he suddenly hot? Like, burning, he...he hadn't activated his quirk, had he?

Suddenly, a buzzing emerged from between his legs. Then, a dampness in his thong. Finally, a sudden wave of inexplicable pleasure.

"Wh-what the fuck!? Why do I- mmmmh, it's not supposed to feel wet down there, what did you- ahhh- what did you do???"

He squirmed beneath you, the hospital bed creaking loudly as it usually did during your encounters. His face burned as a new warmth overtook his loins, one that he'd never felt before.

He rubbed his thighs together, trying to rid himself of the incessant ache, but you place your knees between them before he can really do anything.

"Why're you so freaked out?" You say above him, removing your scrub top. "It's just sex therapy!"

"Bullshit." His eyes scan your bare chest and abdomen, having seen it for the first time ever, really.

You laugh lightly through your nose. "Okay...Just sit still while your master plays with your little pussy, okay?"

"I told you, it's weird when- ah- haaah~ fuck!" His eyes went wide as your fingers slipped past his thong and inside him.

But not his ass.

All he heard was the slick squelch of your fingers penetrating him, and before he knew it, he was arched against his bed, gasping and reaching for the thin, cheap sheets above him.

He couldn't stop the moans, the uncharacteristic whines, the sounds coming from his- his-

"Your pussy's dripping for me, baby~" you laugh.

You gave him a pussy. What was worse was that you gave him a pussy and he liked it.

He could feel you scissoring in his walls, just like you did in his ass but it was different, this wasn't the same, it would never be the same-

He covered his face, you couldn't see him like this. Fine, make him wear the tail and the ears, keep him in the outfit, watch him roll his hips against your hand as you fold your fingers inside him-

But he'd be damned if he let you see the blissed tears running down his burning cheeks.

"Are you gonna cum, already?" You tease, noting his tells. His moans turning to breathless pants and a repeat of soft "uhn, uhn, uhn", his thighs trembling, his covering his face. "I didn't even get my dick inside you yet!"

You inside him? When he could feel every movement of your fingers, the aching of his- his clit-

He couldn't take it, even the idea of being filled-

"Not yet, Kitty." You removed your fingers from inside him, once again rendering him empty.

But it wasn't the same, this time, this time he felt as though he could cry. The tears fell faster now, he couldn't even hide them.

What were you doing to him?

He was crying because you wouldn't keep fingering his pussy!?

Furthermore, he was rejoicing when you'd slipped a bit of your cock inside him, his pussy clenching around nothing but air and your tip.

This is crazy, this is insane-

"Ohhh shitttt, ohhh shittt~ yes, fill me up, fill me up!"

He sounded insane-

"I know it's against protocol to directly penetrate your patients, but for you?" You whisper as you lean down and it let him get adjusted. "I couldn't let anyone else be the first person to use this pussy~"

You quickly grow impatient of letting him adjust and it shows because soon, light rocking turns to full-on thrusts in and out of him, fuck the slapping noise it made, fuck the squelching noise it made, fuck how loud he got-

Fuck, he was so loud-

He doesn't know what to do with himself but sit back and take it. Take getting pounded mercilessly like a little bitch.

"Seems like after tonight, you'll fit in with the other patients, hm?" You grab his jaw and turn his dissenting face back in your direction. "Think I trained my Kitty well, don't you?"

He could barely understand you, not with you grabbing the tops of his thighs and pulling his hips down into yours as you slam up into him.

"Tell me you deserve to be here, baby. Tell me you're just a depraved sex slut like the rest of the patients."

He wanted to reply, he really wanted to, but how could he when his tongue was sticking out of his mouth and his eyes were stuck in the back of his head?

"C'mon, baby, I know you can do it. Tell me you're no different, c'mon, let me hear it, baby."

"Haaaah, I'm n-no different! I-I'm the same! I deserve this!"

It wasn't much, but even you knew that he would cum before you could get more out of him, at least at the rate you were going. And, frankly, you didn't want to stop.

In fact, you wanted to take things a step further.

You grab his cock, the same cock that he'd barely registered still having, and began stroking.

And that was all that it took for Dabi, because seconds later he was clenching around you as tight as he could and cumming. It was almost like a double orgasm, what with his spurting white cum onto his black dress, and cumming clenched around you. White hot shocks sent his paralyzed body into brief jerking motions and the pleasure was immense beyond his understanding.

He would deal with the implications of this event when he wasn't still coming down from his high.

"Remember this the next time you complain about how I describe you, Dabi. Because you might just get what you wish for."

[kit-williams]

Home is where the heart is... so where is my heart?

@bispecsual @egrets-not-regrets @moodymisty @bleedingichorhearts @liar-anubiass-blog

@thevoidscreams @barn-anon @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan @squishyowl @ms--lobotomy

@the-californicationist (You might like Horus ((Before he turned evil))) @justeverythingnothingelse (Since you kinda asked for this)

tw: Smut, canon compliant breeding kink

Word Count: 2437 (6 pages on Google Docs) ((I use docs to check the word count))

As always thank you @squishyowl for the dividers

Horus at one point loathed to return to his quarters alone... when his Mournival came it made it feel less cold but that wasn't always the case and he would come back to the room alone. You helped keep it neat and tidy but Horus tried his best to fill it with things... knickknacks... the walls in far more private rooms had graffiti that reminded him of home but all he tried to do only made it feel like a parody.

No matter how close he got it to look like an old ganger hideout that he remembers so vividly... it lacks the feeling... the smell of bodies passing through... the appearance that someone else other than him has been there. You find him so very glum as you feel brave enough to try and ask your Primarch what is wrong and listen to his woe...

"Would... would you like me to help with that sire?" You offered and you see that he almost jumps with excitement like a dog almost.

"Um what would you propose." He says with restrained eagerness.

He no longer dreaded returning to his quarters as there was at least one other person! Not the size of a gang that he wanted to share a space with but... he had his mournival always around him so he could survive having at least one person around at all times. He got you to move in basically when the Primarch told you what he was so use to... he didn't like to live alone... sure he could sleep alone but the sterile living quarters or bachelors pad that it was made him go crazy.

You moved in full time just adding your touch to living there and it made him actually relax while he was there. You were on the large sofa sewing patches on your clothes... He could just get you new ones... though... one of those was your favorite blouse. "What happened to your blouse?" He said leaning on the back of the couch.

"Popped a button." You say as he looks at how one of the buttons over where your breasts would be had popped. Horus bit his tongue as he looked you over and indeed... your breasts had grown slightly sending a fire to his loins. Not only that just... just the fact you were here verses your own quarters doing your mundane chores; once he caught you here on your day off just relaxing and doing some sewing as you watched a drama on your cogitator... eventually he pushed it onto the large screen as the two of you sat on his couch watching tv as you were sewing what he later learned was a baby blanket for another serf... He remembers holding it and looking at the little animals on it... he liked babies... he babied some of his own sons... but they weren't his babies...

"Horus?" You say looking up at him as he was zoning out.

"Hmm? Sorry..."

"It's fine you're just staring at my blouse still... do you want to talk about it?"

"No... do you want dinner?" Horus put the blouse back down.

"Augh thank you for reminding me." You said starting to pack things up, "I finished cleaning-"

"Where are you going?" Horus says frowning.

"Back to my quarters?" You pause as you're surprised by this sudden line of questioning.

"Why?"

"I have to get started on dinner?"

"Just eat here." Horus says waving his hand.

You let out an exacerbated sigh, "My Lord-"

"Why are you getting formal on me?"

"Horus!" You say stopping him from continuing on and he looks at you... and you just let any annoyance leave you as you see him look at you with some look in his eyes that silently pleaded with you to stay. "I... Just.... You don't have anything in your fridge for me." You finally relent as he just gives you a genuine smile as you sit back down and return to sewing.

"I'll get something nice brought for you... we can always get ingredients for you to use."

"Your kitchen is huge."

"But your quarters are so far..." He whined before you could feel him suddenly beside you. "So... what if you got closer quarters?"

"If I lived closer?" You say as you were getting dangerously close to moving into the same quarters as him, stars above if that happened...

"Would you eat dinner with me more?" He said as his hands move over your shoulders, his large thumbs gently rubbing against the back of your neck and you just groan in enjoyment at the sudden massage.

"Maybe." You sigh out enjoying this. "Can I stay on your couch tonight?"

You can't hear the way his hearts jump or the restrained excitement in his voice, "Oh why?"

"It will be far too late and I'm not fighting a sea of second shift people leaving to get back to my quarters if you're also getting me dinner too."

"Of course I'll be a happy host you."

You wonder if this is what a noble who gets his undivided attention feels like as it feels weirdly intimate as food seems to arrive without you knowing... you had heard that he had wined and dined mortals before a bit before your time but... you move your stuff out of the way. But the food... the food was far too rich for you... far too good for your station... and yet you felt comfortable with how Horus ate like a commoner still. Oh he loved to relax as you had found him laying around with his men like a bunch of teenagers trying to expend as little energy but still get food into their mouths.

You don't know what happened... one moment you two were watching some horror and sharing food from your plates. How your lips bush against his fingers as he offered you to eat something as your eyes are focused on the predictable plot, "No bitch don't go in there." You say softly as you quickly burrow yourself into his side to hide from the killer that would show up.

"She's so fucked." Horus whispered but he was focused on you as you were hiding.

You hide your face in his side as the actress gets mauled on screen by the killer and he could feel your heartrate spike and he just soon pull you into his lap as you were watching through your fingers, "By the stars this is terrifying."

"I think the director is Nostroman." Horus said casually putting another piece of food to your lips and relishing the way your mouth moved against his fingers.

"I don't know if I'll be able to sleep tonight." You whined.

"You can stay with me." Horus says softly as you just mindlessly nod. The movie ends predictably... meaning that the killer might come back... and you lean against his chest just trying to dispel your fearful thoughts. "Did you really get scared?" He asks with some concern and you laugh and nod a bit.

"Its been awhile since I had a scare like that."

You feel his index finger curl under your chin as his thumb rests just below your bottom lip, "Good thing you have me to protect you tonight." Horus says in a husky voice that causes your breathing to hitch for a moment.

"My L-"

He cuts you off with a kiss, his hand groping the fullness of your ass as he carries you to the bedroom. Your clothes being removed piece by piece and you're in your underclothes by the time his foot closes his bedroom door. "You smell so good my little-" He cuts himself off as he kisses you hard. "Let me touch you darling... let me love you." He breathes against your skin and you moan.

"Horus... Horus..." You say spreading your legs wide as he pulls your underclothes away and his finger coaxes its way into the slick opening of your sex.

The restrained Primarch felt himself start to unravel seeing you writhe under him to his ministrations. So use to your presence he had become that the thought of you not spending the night any longer was driving him mad. You'd left your mark on this place, pictframes holding picts you had taken of Horus and his Mournival all the ones you had taken all of them being in such humanizing moments, a blanket you had sewn drapes across the back of one of the couches, your scent lingers in the couch cushions... it lingered in the air... it lingered how Horus needed.

"You'll be such a good mother." His gene enhanced voice dropped an octave as his desires were laid bare and he hummed approvingly as you clenched on his finger, your teeth pressing onto your bottom lip, as you covered your eyes with one arm whimpering as the lavished attention of your Primarch was an intense thing... and it did things to you. "You're taking my fingers so well my little wife... " He cooed into your ear, you wanted to ask what he meant by that but you also were pulled into the sexual fantasy so easily. His tongue tracing the shell of your ear, "Will you take my cock just as well?" He whispers to you and you whimper out a small orgasm as your walls clench around his fingers.

Horus pulled off his pants with such quickness you thought he had simply adjusted his position over you as he smears your fluids over his cock head. "Breathe." He orders and you obey as the sensation of his cock sinking into your sex causes you to exhale slowly and inhale sharply. Your small foot pushes against his chest during moments it becomes too much, his thumb making circles on your hipbones... Horus wondering how much more pronounced they would look on you after you had a baby.

Horus was utterly fascinated by the human body... and the way it shifts and will change to accommodate growing a life inside of it. Of course, your body would never be the same after having one... or two... or three... but the thought of you carrying something of his own making was utterly erotic for him. He sinks in more when you let him losing your breath as he bottoms out and you uncover your eyes just looking between your legs with wide eyes, "Oh by the stars." Your shocked voice shakes out as you weren't expecting to fit him, far to scared to see how big he was.

Horus chuckled softly, "Of course you would take my cock so well..." He looks down at you with such a sin ladened look that it causes you to be utterly flustered, "I seem to just..." He clicks his tongue thinking for a moment, "Have a good eye for people."

Your breath leaves you as he churns his hips and all you can manage out besides pleasured noises is his name. All the while the Primarch is whispering such lurid things in your ear; you honestly didn't realize that you might have a breeding kink as well given how he tells you what he wants to do to you in erotic detail. How he will just find a day to utterly fuck you silly and so full of his cum you'll look pregnant. How greedy he will be to suckle and lick your breasts when they start to weep... how this man can make it all sound so erotic... it makes you buck your hips back into his begging for him to give you what he is promising. Though in the back of your mind it dances how he calls you his, you are one of his menials yes, but the other how he keeps calling you wife....

You'll ask later as right now you're utterly lost to the way he fucks you from here to Terra only finally stopping when you're close to passing out to which he cums inside of you.... not that you're fully there as he kisses your throat... "Yes rest now my pretty little wife... everything... will be... care of."

You pass out not long after that the horror movie monster long forgotten as you sleep in such a lavished bed... waking up with your head on his chest listening to the twin beats of his hearts. You wipe away the drool from the side of your mouth, "Hey pretty girl." He says with a wink as his eyes darted from his datapad for a moment before looking back.

"The shift master is going to kill me." You grouse as you know you overslept.

"No he's not." Horus says amused.

"Well I guess not since I'm here to start my shift." You say with an amused snort. To which Horus copies.

"Really?"

"Can't be late to work if I never left it."

He lets out the most pleasing laugh, "Can you feel your legs?"

"Barely. So..."

"So?" He looks at you smiling.

"That breeding kink huh? You uhhh said some stuff."

"I certainly did say some things." Horus says with a smile as his hands move over your body grabbing the fattier parts with a possessive squeeze. "And I meant what I said."

You swallow as you were just a menial... not any of the pretty noble ladies that you saw in articles being friendly with the gregarious Primarch. You are soon on your back finally seeing the, once more, hard cock for only a moment before he kisses you but you were always a brave one... or perhaps stupid as you speak, "So... you want to start... something with me?"

"Did I lay it on too thick last night?" Horus says with a smile fully knowing what he said.

"Something like that my-" His hand squeezes your cheeks gently.

"None of that. No more hiding behind formality. Its a very easy way to tell you're trying to deflect. Try that again." He says as if he was gently correcting a child.

"I guess it was something like that... almost as if you wanted me for something more than a quick fuck." You force the unsaid words out.

"I do enjoy commitments. They make things more erotic for me."

You hesitate to ask about the wife comments but spin it in a way that might be able to possibly slow down the breed happy Primarch, "I... I suppose I can... um is this a way to ask me to court?"

Horus looked at you for a moment with a blank expression before it turns into his normal confident smile, "Something like that."

[pink-sparkly-witch]

Take Care of You

Summary: Y/N is run ragged. Her employer keeps throwing more work at her, and she’s too nice to say no. She’s also been keeping Jensen’s businesses afloat while trying to keep an eye on their families with him away filming. She’s overwhelmed, stressed and hasn’t been sleeping well. When Jensen comes home after finishing his movie, he notices his girl’s not doing great and plans a weekend filled with “her” time.

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Female Reader

Rating: 18+ Only

Bingo Square: Established Relationship for @jacklesversebingo

Warnings: tw: mentions of cancer, tw: mentions of cancer treatments, tw: dementia, domestic fluff, massage, smut, oral sex (f rec), p in v. 

Word Count: 3.8k

A/N: This is a very self-indulgent story that I wasn’t sure would ever be shared. This has been my life for the past few years, and when I sat down to write something, this is what word vomited onto the page, and I couldn’t stop it.

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“Honey, I’m home!” Jensen declared as he opened the front door, quickly closing and locking it behind him. The lamp in the hallway was on, your purse and laptop bag were sitting on the sideboard, and by the text you’d sent him two hours ago asking if he wanted anything special for dinner tonight, he knew you were home. Why then, he frowned, was the whole house silent?

Dropping his bag next to the sideboard, Jensen moved further into the quickly darkening house. “Y/N? Babe?” he called out again, still being met with silence. Walking into the living room, he huffed an annoyed breath, shaking his head in disbelief at the state he’d found you.

You were still in your work clothes: pinstripe pencil skirt, black button-up blouse and tan stilettos. Your hair was still in a tight, professional bun, and your glasses were pushed up on your head. From the look of things, you got home, put your bags down and immediately fell asleep on the couch.

That damn job was going to be the death of you. They took and took and took, giving nothing in return. You were eager to learn, take on more responsibility and help everyone around you. They took advantage of that and turned your kindness and willingness to be a team player into an expectation. Not only was it expected, it was now frowned upon if you said no. So you didn’t, and God help you if you told someone else in your team that they had to be the one to stay late because heaven forbid, you did actually have a life outside of the office.

Jensen sighed as he looked over your beautiful face, blemished by dark circles around your eyes that makeup could no longer cover. How long had this been going on? He’d been away filming for a month and, with other commitments, hadn’t been home. He was contractually obliged to attend conventions on two of the weekends. Another was his own doing; he was exhausted and couldn’t be bothered packing and travelling to spend only thirty-six hours at home. So, instead, he promised he’d come home next time and went to play golf with a buddy. The only problem with that plan was that he couldn’t come home that weekend either as you’d caught Covid. The guilt he’d played golf instead of coming home to you still ate at him.

You both knew you didn’t need to work. Jensen made enough to support you and allow you to live comfortably, but you wanted to work; you needed to. And when he was away for work, you got lonely and threw yourself into work. Jensen had tried several times to convince you to travel with him and spend your free time doing what you loved most: writing. He thought he’d made a fool-proof argument for his case, but you outsmarted him with a flaw in his master plan; you had responsibilities to your family. And to his. Someone needed to help care for your elderly grandparents. God, both your parents were now at an age that even they were considered elderly, and you felt it was your responsibility to do all the heavy lifting for the generations that came before you.

So many aspects of your dad’s health deteriorated since he battled stage four prostate cancer a few years ago. The chemotherapy weakened his immune system, and he never fully recovered from its poison. The treatment exacerbated his arthritis, and his joints were now in constant pain. But it was his memory that was now concerning you. He was forgetful during his treatment, which was understandable because it was one of the side effects. That, and his mind probably ran through a million different scenarios about his mortality. It was just that it wasn’t getting better. It was getting worse. He’d told you the same story twice in the hour you’d visited last week, and now there were changes in his behaviour that doubled your worry.

Jensen hadn’t meant to worry you when he’d asked you after Christmas dinner with your family if your dad was doing alright. He’d told Jensen the same story several times while you were there, and he thought he was helping you out by mentioning it. He’d been upset when you admitted you’d been concerned for a while and hadn’t told him. When Jensen asked why you hadn’t talked to him about it, guilt flooded him when you said work was keeping him busy enough and that he didn’t need to be stressing about anything else just now. 

You’d told him back then that you’d been trying to convince your mom to talk to him and seek help, but they were as stubborn as each other. When the woman wouldn’t even stop smoking after having a partial lobectomy because of lung cancer and radiation treatment for throat cancer, you knew you were fighting a losing battle.

A light had been switched on, though, when at your mom’s birthday dinner, there were just too many things that couldn’t be ignored, including your dad calling you his recently deceased sister’s name and acting completely inappropriately for a restaurant. Your five-year-old niece had behaved better than him. Finally, you managed to convince your dad to see a doctor. Eight months and various appointments and tests later, a diagnosis of frontotemporal dementia, one of the rarest kinds of the disease, was confirmed. Two days before your birthday, no less.

As he watched your sleeping form, he knew something had to give before you became ill, and his plans for a weekend filled with couples excursions and dates quickly changed. It was now your weekend. You had a family barbecue up in Dallas that you couldn’t miss on Sunday, but until then, he’d take care of you and everything else that needed doing in the house. He’d force you to relax all weekend if it was the last thing he did. And it started with making your favourite comfort food: mac and cheese.

Jensen lit some candles around the living room to give a dim light rather than switch on the brighter lamps and wake you. Heading to the kitchen, he put a pan of water on the stove to boil before pulling his phone from his pocket and calling his mom.

“Hi, sweetie! How are you?” Donna greeted cheerfully.

“Yeah, I’m good, ma. How’re you doing?” he replied as he opened the cupboard and pulled down the box of fake cheesy goodness.

“We’re fine, son. How’s Y/N?” his mom asked, and he smiled softly at the affection in his mom’s voice. His whole family adored her, welcoming her into their family with arms and hearts wide open, taking her in as one of their own without hesitation.

“Uhm, let’s just say I’m glad I’m home for a few weeks. My girl needs a little looking after,” Jensen chuckled dryly.

“Oh, sweetie, I’m sorry. I don’t think she’ll ever change. She always puts others before herself. Is there anything we can do to help? You know if you need to miss Sunday, you can. We won’t be upset,” Donna sympathised.

“We’ll be there on Sunday. I think it’ll do her good, you know? Relaxing by the pool and seeing family. But I wanted to ask you something,” he said.

“Anything, son,” she said instantly, and Jensen chuckled at his mom’s worried tone.

“You know that lavender bath stuff from the place in Dallas you got her obsessed with?” Jensen asked, grinning at his mom’s relieved laugh.

“I just sent her some. It arrived the other day. There are bath salts, bath bombs, bubbles, and some candles. And the pillow spray. Oh, and the essential oil! You could give her a little massage!” There was a grin in her voice, and he shook his head with a chuckle.

“Alright, I get it!” Jensen chuckled. “I was going to ask if you could pick some up for us coming up there, but if she’s got some, that’s even better! I just need to know how to use it.”

“Okay, so you want to start with lighting the candles...”

You could feel something soft and warm caress your cheek, and you start to wake. Your eyes flutter open, taking a minute to focus through the dimly lit room, and finally, find the forest-green eyes of the love of your life, and you smile at him with a contented hum. Jensen smiled softly back as he continued to stroke your cheek gently. “Hey, sleepy head,” he whispered.

“Jay, you’re home!” you grinned, voice husky from sleep. “I missed you, baby.”

“I missed you too, darlin’. It looks like someone came home and crashed out,” Jensen chuckled softly.

“What time is it?” you ask, rubbing at your gritty eyes and yawning. You had to admit that although it wasn’t your intention to indulge in a nap, you did feel much better.

“A little after nine,” Jensen answered and laughed at your gasp.

“Nine!? I’ve been asleep for three hours?” you groaned in annoyance.

Jensen smiled and gently gripped your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. “Yeah, and by the look of this, you need much more,” he gently runs his fingers under your eyes. “Those dark circles would make a panda claim you as one of their own, and that was before you rubbed at your eyes and messed up your mascara!”

“Oh, God!” you groaned.

“Hey,” Jensen said, “you’re still beautiful, baby,” he smiled. “I made you mac and cheese. Eat. I’ll grab a quick shower to get the plane smell off me, then I’ll run you a bath,” he held his hand out to silence your protests. “And if you’re a good girl and let me take care of you, you can have a massage when you get out,” he grinned boyishly, knowing he had you where he wanted you.

“A massage or a full body massage?” you giggled as you watched him search for the right response.

“I’ll tell you what. Eat, bathe, and pamper yourself in the tub with a glass of wine and a face mask, and after, I’ll give you a normal, completely innocent massage. If, and only if you still want that,” Jensen licked his lips and smirked, “full body massage to help relieve any deep-rooted tension, then darlin’, I am at your service,” he rasped in his ‘Dean’ voice, and you raised an eyebrow at him.

“Oh, sweetheart, it’s been a month. The only way to get rid of that kind of tension is for those talented fingers to work it out of me,” you lowered your voice seductively. “And I think it’s gonna take a few… releases,” you smirked at his darkening eyes, “to get rid of it completely.”

“Fuck!” Jensen groaned, and you grinned mischievously.

“Oh, and if you need to relieve some tension, my hands and mouth are at your service. Although,” you teased further, “I can think of somewhere else that’ll appreciate it a lot more, and I guarantee you won’t regret using it to your advantage,” you winked.

“You’re gonna kill me one of these days, baby girl,” Jensen grumbled as he headed upstairs to shower and prepare your bath.

You cleared up the mess Jensen had left in the kitchen, rinsed the dishes and put them in the dishwasher. He’d be mad at you for doing it, but you didn’t care. He was also tired and deserved not to worry about a messy house.

Opening the cupboard, you pulled out two glasses. A crystal tumbler for Jensen’s whiskey and a wine glass for you. Filling the ice bucket, you pulled one of his good bottles of Scotch from the cabinet, put it in the bucket, added a bottle of wine, and went upstairs.

The scent of lavender filled the hallway, getting stronger the closer you came to the master bedroom. Smiling, you stopped inside the door and leaned against the wooden frame. You watched with a soft smile as Jensen moved around the room and lit candles. Most were unscented pillar candles, but you noticed the little glass votives on each bedside table and knew they were somewhat responsible for the soothing fragrance permeating the room.

“Found my secret stash, huh?” you spoke, grinning at Jensen’s damp, hedgehog hair and guilty look. “Hey, I’m not mad, baby. Thank you for doing this,” you gestured to the candles and the soft acoustic music playing lowly.

“Anything for m’girl,” Jensen walked over to you and pecked your lips. He took the ice bucket and glasses and placed them on the dresser. “I put your robe over the heated rail so it’ll be nice and cosy when you get out,” he glanced at you with a soft smile, opened the wine bottle and poured you a large glass.

“Thank you,” you walked over to him and wrapped your arms around his waist. He chuckled and pulled you closer, arms around your shoulders and tucking your head under his chin. You sighed and melted into his body.

“What’s this for?” he asked, kissing your hair.

You shrugged, “I just need a hug.”

Jensen kissed your hair again and pulled away slightly, looking down at you with pure adoration. “Well, you can have all the hugs you want for the next three weeks.”

“Promise?” you grinned into his chest.

Jensen chuckled and pulled you in tighter, “I promise. Now, let’s get you in that tub, huh?”

“Yeah,” you smile. “It smells amazing in there!”

Jensen let go of you, filled the wine glass and handed it to you. “Go on in and enjoy. I’ll be here when you get out,” he kissed your forehead and gently pushed you towards the ensuite bathroom.

You gasped at what Jensen had done in there. It was lit only by candlelight, and the steam billowing from the tub filled with bubbles and the lavender scent surrounding you immediately made you relax.

You sighed as you walked to the double sink and stepped out of your heels, kicking them under it. Grabbing a brush and a hair tie, you pulled your hair free of its constraints and brushed it out. Replacing the tight, professional bun with a much more comfortable, messy one, you opened the drawer, grabbed your face cleanser and began to remove the day’s dirt, grime, and makeup, frowning at the dark circles under your eyes.

Finally, you stripped your clothes off, leaving them in a pile on top of your shoes, intending to put them in the laundry basket later. You looked through the sheet masks you kept in a little basket on the counter, settling on one with chamomile and aloe vera, keeping the relaxed vibe in the bathroom.

Sinking into the tub, you sighed loudly as the hot water encompassed your tired body, enveloping you in a warm hug. You placed the mask over your face, rested your head on the bath pillow, and sighed again, letting the water soothe your body, and the lavender soothe your soul.

Relaxed, warm and sleepy, you walk into the bedroom with your fluffy robe wrapped around your body.

“There she is!” Jensen smiled when he saw you. You already looked more relaxed, making him feel lighter than when he first saw you.

“Come on, lie down,” Jensen said, placing a towel over the bedding to protect it from oil. You walked towards the bed, untying the robe. Despite seeing you naked thousands of times, Jensen turned his head to give you privacy. Once ready, you crawled up the bed and lay comfortably on your stomach.

“Comfy, baby girl?” Jensen’s voice is quiet, and you feel the bed dip with his weight. You hummed in response and shivered as his warm hand ghosted down your spine. Jensen poured the lavender aromatherapy oil on his hands and rubbed them together, warming the liquid between his palms.

Straddling your thighs, but careful not to put too much weight on them, he rubbed your lower back, sweeping his hands over your skin, covering it with the slick oil. Moving to your shoulders, he tuts and shakes his head.

“Poor baby, all knotted and tight up here,” he murmured as he increased his pressure.

“Hmm,” you moaned. “Feels good, Jay.”

“Yeah?” Jensen asked, working his thumbs into the knots along your shoulder blades.

“Yeah, it’s perfect,” you purred. You hardly ever took time out for self-care, but when you did, it was something you enjoyed, and you wondered why it was something you didn’t make more time for.

Jensen’s hands continued to work out the knots, and he smiled softly with every moan and hum that left you unchecked. Feeling you relax under his touch and sink further into the mattress made him relax, too.

“How do you feel?” Jensen whispered, not wanting to startle you or ruin your tranquil state as he sat back on the bed.

“I feel good, baby,” your voice was soft – lazy almost, as you turned over to lay on your back, biting your bottom lip when Jensen’s eyes went straight to your naked breasts. “See something you like?” you teased, giggling at his smirk.

“I do,” Jensen’s voice was deep with arousal, “so, can I interest you in a full body massage, or would you like a rain check?” Jensen was always a gentleman; you could see in his eyes (and sweatpants!) that he wanted you, but he knew you were exhausted and would never push you to go further.

“I think,” you smirked, “I want that full body.” It had been a month for both of you, but the excitement on his features made you laugh. “You’d think we never have sex with that look on your face!”

“Can’t a man miss his wife?” Jensen chuckled. “Miss her body because his hand just won’t cut it after a while?” he bit his lip and placed his hands on your chest, rubbing and caressing your breasts and down your torso. He hooked his fingers in the fabric of your simple cotton panties and pulled them down your legs.

Dropping them on the floor, he kneeled between your legs, gently pushing them up before pulling them apart, placing them on either side of his body and opening you up to him.

“Hmm,” he hummed, licking his lips at your glistening folds. “A month is far too long, baby girl. Never going that long without you or this pretty little pussy again,” Jensen murmured and lowered himself to your core, licking a long line up your slit.

You had missed this. Jensen’s tongue was unbelievably talented, never failing to make you come multiple times over hours when he was in the mood. Still, you knew tonight wouldn’t be one of those nights. Tonight, you’d fall apart embarrassingly quickly on his tongue, and then he’d be too desperate to tease you more.

Jensen slid a hand up your body, cupping your breast and grinned into your folds as he felt your body arch further into his touch. Your hand covered his and squeezed, forcing him to grip your breast harder. Taking the hint, he slid his other hand up your chest and began to play with both.

That was all that it took for you to fall over the edge. You grabbed Jensen’s hands from your chest and linked your fingers with his, moaning incoherent curses as your body convulsed through its climax.

“That’s m’girl,” Jensen murmured as he placed one last kiss to your centre before dragging his lips up the rest of your body, nipping and sucking along the way. His warm hands skimmed your body, and he hummed lowly at the softness of your skin, making you putty in his hands.

Jensen’s kisses finally reached your lips, and the combination of his soft lips and your taste on his tongue sent another wave of arousal shooting through your body. Your hands grabbed the hem of his shirt and tugged at it viciously until he got the message and pulled it off. 

His eyes rolled as your nails gently raked over his lower back and around his stomach. You dipped your hand into his sweats, finding his erection and clasping your hand around it. The groan that rumbled from him was the sexiest thing you’d ever heard, making his desperation for you clear as day. He dipped his head and placed his lips to yours once more, the kiss slow and sweet at first, but as you began to pump your hand up and down his length, he pushed his tongue into your mouth and deepened it. 

Jensen’s hand moved from your hip and skimmed up your torso. He gripped your breast and squeezed before trailing his fingers back down and settling between your legs. Running his thumb down your folds, he coated his thumb with your slick before expertly finding your clit and flicking the tiny bud.

“Good girl,” he mumbled, breaking the kiss as your legs automatically opened wider for him.

Jensen focused his lips and tongue on your breasts, sucking a nipple into his mouth with a contented hum. You moaned loudly as your body arched up, forcing yourself into him further, the movement causing his thumb to press into your clit just a little bit harder and pushing you just a little bit closer to the edge.

Wanting more, you started to grind your hips into him, increasing the pressure of his thumb against the tiny bundle of nerves. “That’s it, baby, take what you need,” Jensen growled as he trailed kisses up your chest, “tonight is all about you.” 

You continued to grind against his hand, tumbling straight into another climax the second his lips attached to your throat. Jensen held you closer, slowing the flick of his thumb and prolonging your high just a little without overstimulating you.

You shivered, suddenly feeling cold, as you returned to yourself and whined when you noticed Jensen standing at the edge of the bed. Chuckling, he pulled his sweatpants off and crawled back up your body.

“Hey, I’m not going anywhere, baby,” he smiled, kissing the tip of your nose. “Are you ready?” he whispered while rutting himself through your folds, coating himself in your arousal.

“For you, always,” you smiled, but as he pushed his hips forward and entered you, your head fell back, and a low moan tore from your throat. With a growled string of curses, Jensen filled you to the brim and stilled.

“Fuck, Jensen!” you gasped.

“You okay, baby?” he asked, stroking your cheek, his brow furrowed in concern.

“I’m good. I missed this. I missed you,” you whimpered and wrapped your arms around Jensen’s neck, pulling him towards you and pecking at his lips. Slowly, Jensen pulled his hips back and thrust forward slowly and gently.

The lazy way that you made love was everything you needed and more. As you both succumbed to your climaxes, you knew that you’d always be safe in his arms and that he’d always take care of you the way you took care of everyone else.

Tags: @akshi8278 @ashbatz @candy-coated-misery0731 @chriszgirl92 @deans-baby-momma @deans-spinster-witch @deansbbyx @deanwanddamons @duncanhillscoffeecups @foxyjwls007 @giggles1026 @globetrotter28 @hobby27 @hoboal87 @impala67rollingthroughtown @iprobablyshipit91 @jackles010378 @jamerlynn @jc-winchester @k-slla @kazsrm67 @kmc1989 @lacilou @ladysparkles78 @leigh70 @lyarr24 @maliburenee @michecolegate @mrsjenniferwinchester @nancymcl @negans-lucille-tblr @perpetualabsurdity @roseblue373 @sandlee44 @sexyvixen7 @snackles87 @spnwoman @stixnstripesworld @stoneyggirl2 @suckitands33 @synmorite @tristanrosspada-ackles @twinkleinadiamondsky @waters-2567 @winchestergirl1720

[amostimprobabledream]

I just found your blog and I am EXTREMELY IN LOVE with how you write Claude. Thank you so much 🙏🙏🙏

If you take request, I'd love to see a jealous Claude of some sort. Or Claude having a crush on you and he wants to be very tactical about it but fails because for once he also stumbles over his words.

~🌻🌻🌻

Hello Sunflower anon! I promise I hadn't forgotten your ask, I just didn't want to respond until I had something to show for it. Now, here it is! Hope you enjoy! :)

Also available on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52063906

Out of the corner of his eye, Claude found himself watching you.

The Leicester Alliance might not have been as...enthusiastic in their celebrations as the kind of feasts that went down in Almyra, but they still knew how to host a party when the situation called for it. The buffet table groaned with a banquet of food that would have been unthinkable just a year or so ago and everyone was dressed in their best outfits, determined to finally enjoy some splendour after fighting their way through some of the bleakest days in living memory.

You were working the room, the goldenrod gown you were wearing rustling across the polished marble floors. He wondered if you had picked out that colour for any particular reason – was it simply because it looked nice on you, or was it some kind of message? A code, if you will.

“A woman’s outfit isn’t just for practicalities, Claude!” He heard Hilda’s voice chiming in his head, something she’d told him once in the old days at the Academy, when he’d once asked why she bothered to wear perfume and earrings to a mock battle. “When you pick out your clothing, you’re making a statement about who you are! And not just the girls – look around you sometime if you don’t believe me!”

He’d been sceptical of this claim initially, but after that conversation, Claude had found himself paying closer attention to how his fellow Golden Deer and other students wore their uniforms and had been both surprised and intrigued to see that Hilda had been right. It was in the little things, like Hilda’s skirt being as short as she could possibly get away with without incurring the wrath of Seteth, while Marianne made sure her uniform covered as much as herself as possible, like she was using the fabric to hide in. Then you had Sylvain with his sleeves rolled up and his hair messy, like he’d just rolled out of bed and couldn’t be bothered to button up the cuffs or front of his jacket. Then you had Lorenz and that ridiculous rose he always wore pinned to his lapel…

Speaking of Lorenz and his questionable choice in accessories, Claude spied the man himself across the room…and there you were, laughing at something he was saying.

An unfamiliar knot of irritation tightened in Claude’s chest, which was ridiculous…Lorenz was your old classmate, after all, so why wouldn’t you be catching up with him? There was plenty to catch up on, after all, especially now that the wore was officially over and Fodlan could breath a sigh of relief…

Yet he still didn’t like the way Lorenz was staring at you, like he’d discovered a rare new species of flower or bird. No doubt you looked even more lovely close up, but Claude wondered if you remembered what Lorenz used to be like around female students at Garreg Mach, to the point that Teach herself had to step in. As the sun poured into the room, catching on the jewellery you were wearing around your neck and in your ears, Claude couldn’t help but wonder what you had been thinking when you chose them, if each item was a tool in your arsenal to be deployed at the key moment…

“Stare, much?”

Claude jolted and turned to see Hilda, who was unsurprisingly in a resplendent pink gown that was clinging lovingly to her curves – if she was trying to convey a message with her outfit, then “Look at me!” seemed to be the end result.

“Hilda!” Claude greeted her, shooting her an easygoing smile that did not quite reach his eyes. “I see that you’re already enjoying the festivities.”

“Oh, there’s plenty to enjoy around here,” Hilda said airily. “But I have to say, you’re not looking as happy as the hero of the hour should be. Are you wishing you’d stayed home in Almyra?”

It was still so strange to hear the other half of him spoken aloud so casually, when he’d been hiding it so painstakingly for five years. Yet it came with an undeniable surge of relief.

“My home is here and Almyra.” Claude replied diplomatically. “Anyway, you think I’d pass up an opportunity to see everyone all together again?”

“Hmm, that’s true.” Hilda nodded, sipping from her glass of champagne. “This is a prime time to start forging diplomatic relations, isn’t it? Looks like those two over there are already making inroads.”

Hilda tilted her head, pink hair slipping off her shoulder, an amused little smile playing about her lips, like she knew something Claude didn’t. She’d always been able to see through him, and vice versa.

So no doubt Hilda had noticed the way that, no matter who Claude was talking to, his eyes kept wandering back to you, tracking you all about the ballroom as though he was worried that the moment he wasn’t making sure you were still there, you might just disappear.

“I thought the war taught you that sometimes you can’t just stand back and watch before you make a move.” Hilda remarked.

“It did.” Claude replied evenly, his green eyes growing half-lidded as Lorenz put his hand on your waist.

“Then go and talk to her! It’s not cute to stand around pouting at your age, you know.”

“Ha! You’re one to talk – you’ll be pouting to get your way until you’re an old lady.” Claude said, imagining an eighty-year-old Hilda in pigtails. “And I know.”

“Good, because it’s so exhausting trying to play matchmaker.” Hilda said, with an affected hair toss, before she spotted someone across the room and gave them a dainty little wave, her fingers fluttering.

“Oh, there’s Caspar! I promised him a dance!” she lilted, before swanning away, the scent of her perfume wafting behind her – Claude caught a whiff of anemones.

“Bet that’s not all you promised.” He murmured under his breath.

Nevertheless, Claude heeded her advice, because as spacy as she might have liked to seem, Hilda was a startlingly perceptive woman under her ditzy attitude. He strode across the room, boots clicking on the polished floors, surging ahead before he could start doing what he always did. Running through various scenarios in his head like he was figuring out his next move in chess, making contingency plans, scheming. It was his fall-back from when he was a scrawny young boy, hiding in the shadows from those who sought to harm him that he couldn’t possibly retaliate against physically. Old habits died hard, despite everything.

“Lorenz! I see your fashion sense has improved since our school days! Well, somewhat.” Claude said in a cheery voice as he approached the two of you. “Remember how people used to ask if you’d tried to cut your hair with an axe?”

“May I remind you, Claude, that you wore the same uniform as me back then?” Lorenz sighed, but it lacked the genuine irritation it once did.

“I see you still like yellow, though.” You said to Claude, turning your head to smile at him, though that smile was teetering on being a smirk.

Claude’s mouth went dry.

“So do you.” He replied. He didn’t mean to say that; it just popped out before he could stop himself. It was unlike Claude to be so concise with his wording, he had always tended to err on the side of verbosity, yet…

Your smile widened and heat spread across your cheeks, and his own mouth curved in a smirk.

“Yes, well, we were just about to dance-“ Lorenz said haughtily, seeming not to notice your reaction to Claude’s comment, and the latter gave a wince of faux-sympathy.

“Ooh, sorry, Duke of Gloucester, but she already promised the next one to me. Did she not say? Ah, for shame, my lady!”

“Oh, right, yeah,” you said, before quickly turning your head to Lorenz. “Apologies, do excuse me. But you know, if you’re looking for a dance partner, why not ask Marianne? She’s been standing over there by herself a while, it would probably be nice for her to see a face she recognises.”

“Ah, yes, what a good idea!” Lorenz said, his face brightening at the suggestion, turning to look across the ballroom. “I had to speak with her about Margrave Edmund’s proposition…”

He wandered off, still muttering under his breath, though it was obvious neither you nor Claude cared whatsoever what he was talking about. Instead, Claude offered a hand with a slightly mocking edge to it, unable to resist bucking against convention.

“Shall we?”

You accepted his hand and he lead you into the middle of the room where several people were dancing, and he saw Hilda shoot him a grin as Caspar somewhat clumsily whirled her around in a blur of pink and blue. Claude rested one of his hands on the small of your back and though the contact was hardly anything risqué, it still sent a bolt of delight through you.

“So you really did mean to dance.” You remarked, falling into step with him almost without thinking about it. You’d been instructed how to dance for formal events like this by your parents when you were younger and as much of an irritating chore as they’d felt at the time, it was like second nature now.

“What else could I have meant?” Claude replied, lifting one hand to twirl you around. “I could have challenged you to a duel, I suppose, but neither of us seem dressed for the occasion.”

��Well, for a second there, I thought you were just going to start grunting and throw me over your shoulder.” You teased, as he pulled you in again. “That was quite the glare you were giving Lorenz Hellman Gloucester.”

“Do you want to be thrown over my shoulder?” Claude asked, tilting his head. “Or would that put a dampener on all your schmoozing?”

“Forging important political alliances, you mean.” You corrected Claude with a smirk. “Goodness, Claude. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were jealous.”

“And if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were purposefully trying to induce a little jealousy.” Claude replied, eyes sliding down to your lips.

You tilted your chin up, defiantly.

“And if I was?”

There was a small silence, a verbal gauntlet thrown down, and Claude looked at you with an expression that made your insides twist. He reached his free hand out and twined a lock of your hair around his finger, his expression thoughtful.

“Then I’m afraid you’re just going to have to suffer the consequences.”

~

“Claude…Claude!”

You were sweating. Heated kisses and a warm, muscular body pressing you to the wall would do that to a person. Along with the fact that you were only on the other side of the room from the entire ballroom – if somebody left to get a little fresh air, for example, they might well stumble on the scene of the new Duke of House Riegan kissing you against the wall like a naughty schoolboy. You pulled back, feeling a little dazed.

“I know you like to make risky moves, Claude, but isn’t this a bit much?” you said, a touch breathlessly.

Claude laughed softly, breath tickling your cheek as he moved in closer, pressing his lips to your neck.

“I consider the pros to outweigh the cons in this specific scenario.” He replied in a murmur.

“Which are?” You giggled.

“Pros: I get to put my hands on you,” Claude replied, sucking hard on the skin of your throat, making you gasp. “Cons: Someone might see me put my hands on you.”

“Then why are you doing this in a place where the cons could become a real possibility?” You asked, though you knew the answer already – you just wanted to know if he’d admit to it.

“If you want a gamble to have the best possible payoff, then you have to make sure the risk is big enough.” Claude replied with a wry smile, his fingers squeezing your hips. “Anyway, I didn’t hear you doing much maidenly protesting. Though your mouth was quite occupied at the time…”

You laughed and pulled him down for another kiss, because he was quite right, of course – knowing that other people were there, mooning for someone else across the room but not daring to make a move, or chastely dancing together while secretly wishing they could do so much more, gave you an adrenaline rush you hadn’t felt since you were standing on a battlefield so many months ago. These thrills were less likely to come with the potential cost of your life, but they were exciting in an entirely new way.

“Claude…” you mumbled, leaning into him, resting your hands on his chest, feeling his heart pounding against your palms. It was true you’d wanted to get his attention today – he’d been away in Almyra for months and you’d missed him. Missed his laugh, the easy way he could banter with just about anyone, the sharp line of his jaw and the particular shade of green of his eyes…perhaps going around in a dress the same colour as that cape of his was a little on the nose, but it seemed to have worked.

“Mm?” he seemed preoccupied with your earrings, taking one and giving it a playful little tug, an emerald sparkling between his teeth.

“How long exactly is the hero of the Leicester Alliance expected to stay at the ball until he can flee into the sunset?” you asked, tilting your head.

"Flee? Is that how you see me? Some coward who's always running away at the drop of a hat?” Claude asked, holding a hand to his chest in a parody of shock. "I'm not Bernadetta!"

“I wouldn’t call you a coward,” you said, then paused. “But you do tend to rush from place to place without giving people a chance to say goodbye.”

Understanding dawned across his face, and he ran his fingers through your hair, his touch gentle.

“I had things to do. But I always intended to come back.” He said, simply. It wasn’t easy feeling torn between two things all the time, but he had hope that now, he could finally act as a whole for the first time in his life.

“Still, a word or two would have been nice…” You said, a little churlishly, unwilling to melt under his touch just yet, not wanting to give up your grievances so easily. You didn’t consider yourself the type to be pining over anyone, but Claude von Riegan wasn’t just anyone.

And here was something you loved about Claude, one of the many things – instead of getting exasperated or defensive at your stubbornness, your unwillingness to just sink into the moment, into him, a slow smile spreads across his face, honey-sweet.

“Oh, sweetheart.” He cooed, cupping your face. “Did you miss me that much?”

The sting of his teasing was mitigated by the way he kissed you next, soft and sensually, the scruff of his beard rubbing against your skin, but you didn’t care, you were too busy kissing him back, lips tingling, sighing against him as his hands squeezed your waist like he didn’t want to let go.

“You know, I think I might be able to make it up to you.” Claude said breathlessly, when you both finally paused for ear. Some of your lipstick was smudging his face and a perverse stab of pride poked you at the sight of it. “If you’re willing, that is.”

“That depends on what it is,” you replied, your lips tingling. You knew you were smiling despite your grumpy tone.

“Oh, you’ll like it. But we’d have to get on my wyvern to see it.” Claude replied, brushing his thumb across your bottom lip. “Think of it as an adventure.”

An adventure with Claude sounded…well, even a casual conversation with Claude could be exciting, he was the kind of person who could talk about any subject. But to be whisked away into the unknown made your stomach perform a swooping feeling, almost a pre-emptive recreation of what sitting atop a dragon was like.

“So am I being kidnapped now?” You said with an excited giggle, the possibilities opening up to you suddenly making this spacious corridor seem like a prison you’re about to break free from, and Claude laughed back. “Will you stop and write out a ransom first?”

“You know what us Almyrans alike. We just can’t resist something pretty to take for our own.” He teased, pulling your flush against him. “What do you say we have a real celebration?”

His eyes glinted with mischievous intent, reminding you sharply of the emerald earrings you’d carefully slotted into your ears as you were dressing for the ball. You leaned into his embrace, breathing in the scent of Claude, parchment and cloves and pine needles.

“That’s fine with me. I don’t mind being stolen.” You whispered back to him, and his answering kiss sealed the deal.