#you'd still need to breathe

[kari-go]

I really like how you will use the pearls in your au. The pearls and stones were always one of my favorite scraped ML concepts. Personally, I prefer the pearls and stones over the potions. While I don't hate the potion, I feel like they really lack a presence in the show and aren't very important, especially with how it feels like the show just dropped them after season 2. I think I like the pearls and stones so much because when I first saw their concept art, I thought they would be artifacts that the heroes would have to find (maybe before the villains do). I could imagine Indiana Jones-style episodes where the heroes have to find and go to ancient shrines, temples, or cities to get these artifacts, maybe solving puzzles and avoiding traps or monsters while they do it. This could have been a good opportunity for world-building (which I now think has become the point of the specials since it feels like the show has pretty much locked itself in Paris at this point) and for potential lore about the miraculous, their history, the order, or maybe even the mage who made them. And even if the pearls and stones weren't used often, they would have still impacted the story and the lore while also giving the audience something to use in theories, unlike the potions. But anyway, I'm curious to see how you'll use the pearls in your au.

Yes yes, there were so many opportunities but they just did absolutely nothing, we have no idea what the other power-ups even are! The specials also don't help, they just introduce random stuff that was never mentioned and raise even more questions.

[lesbianwyllravengard]

I love how whenever I see people discuss wyllstarion, in the context of "justifying" why one ships it, there's always that of why Astarion would love Wyll, extensively; bringing up that Astarion said he used to dream of marrying men like Wyll, or that Astarion said wants to feed off of Wyll, or that Astarion would want someone chivalrous and kind who would put his needs first and who would respect his boundaries and his past. Astarion is the fave white boy and so he's shipped with many different people, and this is how people who ship wyllstarion express why he'd choose Wyll. But I almost never see extensive explanation of why Wyll would love Astarion, because of course he would. Of course he'd love Astarion.

[spywhitney]

How I sleep knowing I'll never trust anyone that hates Sydney but worships Richie:

[sasquach-scratches]

I think Skyrim's gravest sin was making some of the most killable characters ever while making them essential because ~we want everyone to be able to do every bit of content in the game~ and it's unfortunately never going to stop because Morrowind was the exception not the norm

[the-trans-dragon]

Could a person with mental illness do THIS?

*spends 20 minutes trying to respond to a text, too anxious to commit to a first word such as "Hey" versus "Hi!" versus maybe a unique catchphrase I should incorporate into my personality like "Banjo bonjour!" or, if it would be more logical, "Bonjour banjo!"*

[violet-dragongirl]

I dunno I think story pacing is going to be a bit odd and too long in Starfield

[eupheme]

— honey, honey

[part ii of sugar, sugar] | [part iii] | [masterlist]

wolverine/logan howlett x neighbor!f!reader

rated e - 5.2k

tags: asshole friend!wade, (sorta soft) roommate!logan, baker!neighbor!reader, flirting, mutual yearning, miscommunication, immature humor, wingman!wade, light angst, oral sex, spitting, fingering, unprotected PiV, begging, floor sex

Even after you wake up alone, and almost late for work, it doesn’t deter your interest in your neighbor - especially after the night you shared.

(Or - a miscommunication, and the following through of two late-night promises.)

You awake to the blare of Dolly Parton's '9 to 5'. 

A time you wish your work schedule followed. Groggy with sleep as you reach for your phone, hitting snooze on your way-the-fuck-too-early alarm. 

Collapsing back on your pillows, as the night before comes rushing back to you.

The party. Meeting Logan. Coming back to your apartment after. 

An ache between your thighs that you definitely didn't have the morning before. Sitting up with a start, heart racing as your hand stretches out on the right side of the bed.

The sheets are cool, in-between the deep rips in the fabric.

You don't remember him leaving.

Had drifted off with an arm slung around your waist, one of the hardest sleeps of your life. Something inside you twists, leaving behind the sharp tang of disappointment. 

It's not unusual, you suppose. You'd had your fair share of fuck-and-go's, and had even committed a few yourselves. But you thought last night had felt different.

There had been a connection, you were sure of it. The way he had touched you, kissed you- 

You had just hoped...

The snoozed alarm goes off, and you catch the time. Forty-five minutes before than your usual alarm - the numbers shocking you into action. 

Set earlier to accommodate a last minute change for a wedding - all of the cupcakes needing to be repackaged before the mother of the bride came at seven. 

And you had volunteered, do-gooder that you were.

"Shit!” You hiss, scrambling out of bed. A whirlwind as you throw clothes on, banging into the bathroom to get ready.

Still muttering as you blow through the kitchen, snatching up your bag and keys. 

"Why the fuck did I do that?" You grouse to yourself, skipping your usual morning coffee - you'll have to grab it on the way, "God, I'm fucking dumb, I always regret it."

The door slams behind you - as you rush down the steps, and out into the streets.

His claws unsheath with the bang of the door. Awakened from a dead sleep, his heartbeat jolting as he's thrown back into another life, in another world. 

It takes him a full minute to come back down. His surroundings unfamiliar, the room still bathed in darkness. 

A groan, when he remembers. The claws slipping back beneath, a sharp twinge as his skin knits back together. 

It's too early for the late night he shared with you. Should have thought about you working in the morning, might have held back from the extra round the night before. 

Had meant to wake up before you, slip back into bed as you dozed. You had dropped off in his arms the night before, lulled to sleep after he had coaxed two more orgasms from you, with the slow pump of his hips and circle of his fingers. 

Dragging himself out to the couch once your breathing had gone steady. Tugging the homemade afghan off a nearby armchair, wrapping it around him as his eyes fixed on the door. Keeping watch, as he did next door.

Lulled to sleep, thinking about you. His eyes flutter shut for a moment now, the slightest pull of his lips at the memory. 

Flinching again, when you barrel out of the bathroom. The light makes him squint - you haven’t seen him yet, as he pushes himself up on an elbow. Your name soft hush on his lips, until he hears your angry muttering. 

"Why the fuck did I do that?"

"God I'm fucking dumb, I always regret it."

Your tone laced with anger, woven in with the sharp tang of remorse. 

The realization is a douse of ice-cold water, rising away the last dregs of sleep. Leaving him staring at the door as you yank it shut behind you. 

Scowling, as he pushes himself up. 

Nearly ripping the denim as he tugs his jeans back on. Finding his white tank and discarded flannel in your room, right where he had stripped them off the night before.

His jaw works, replaying your words.

He should have known. Shouldn’t have listened to Wade. Shouldn’t have listened to you. Shouldn’t have let himself hope. 

And for the second time, your door slams shut. 

You think about Logan all morning, even as you put out fires at work. 

The boxes exchanged - two-hundred and fifty rustic, individual cardboard carriers exchanged for sleek and shiny white ones, tied with a bow. The memory that runs through your mind even staves off your irritation at the last-minute work, a peppy smile and wave as you hand the boxes off. 

The 'tied-up-in-knots' is a feeling that echoes in your belly. Your fondness for Wade is starting to come back, after the way you were ready to write him off for that absolute debacle of an introduction. 

You'd been expecting something a little more... natural. Normal. A "hey, have you met my neighbor?" not one of the most embarrassing things you've had to live through with a near-stranger. 

Maybe you should have known better.

But with the way the night ended, you can't bring yourself to be mad. Letting yourself get distracted as you replay the night, again - almost grabbing the wrong tube of icing as your mind wanders back.

Not only thinking about the way he felt - those wandering hands and how perfectly he fit inside you, how he had completely fucked your brains out - but him as well. 

The conversations. The tiny crack you had made in his armor, the way he had shown you his claws. The drift of his fingers against your skin, when he had asked why you had gone to Wade. 

You’re thankful you’re working in the back today, with the way your skin heats from chest to ears. Quiet mutterings to get it to together. 

And as the afternoon finally starts to lull, you find yourself gathering ingredients.

It wouldn't take long to make something small. The recipe is one you know by heart. 

Maybe you can drop it off tonight. Maybe it will erase whatever you did to drive him from your bed and back to his apartment in the middle of the night. Maybe it will be a nice way to let him know you’re thinking of him.

Vanilla, flour, powdered sugar. Fresh, sliced strawberries.

Maybe you have it bad. 

The box is tucked under your arm when you knock on Wade’s door. It’s still early in the afternoon - the hallways bright, traffic buzzing outside.

You fidget with the strap of your dress - something breezy, but still a little cute. An attempt to look like you have it together with looking like you tried too hard - something easier said than done.

There’s a fluttering twitch behind your ribs when the door opens. That curl of hope squashed when it’s not Logan that answers, but Wade.

You’re quick to fix your expression, offering him a smile, “Morning! Late night?”

“Is it a late night if it’s still going?” A yawn, as he scratches at his ribs - fingers digging into the fabric of his cropped tee, “We’re four seasons deep into a Supermarket Sweep marathon. If I could go back in time again…”

The tv blares in the background, Al sitting in an armchair. The couch from the night before still sits empty, no sign of Logan. 

Not that you’re checking. 

“You’d… want to host?” You offer, eyebrows raising. 

“God no. Can you imagine me in those sweaters? Way too much polyester.” He chuckles, “No, Blind Al and I would sweep. Pun intended.”

Your head tilts, nose scrunching.

“I see you make that face, but that woman knows every goddamn aisle.” Wade sighs fondly, before he’s jolting - eyes fixing on you, “But enough about the biggest regret in my life, how was your night?”

“Oh,” You manage, “It’s was good-”

“Just good?” He scoffs, “He gave you the greatest show and you’re saying it’s just good?”

A huff, muttered under his breath, ”Can’t remember the last time I took the skin boat to tuna town like that. Surprised you’re still walking.”

The noise you make is ugly - a broken groan. Embarrassment flooding with your nerves, cheeks heating, “If you must know, it was great. Lots of wholesome, adult conversation.”

“Uh huh. And a good, old-fashioned railing.” His tongue tucks against his teeth, “I get it! I’ve had him inside me too, it was quite the experience.”

That has you pausing. A beat, as curiosity wells in you, “You mean…?”

“Well, it was his claws,” Wade sighs wistfully, “But how different can it be?”

You huff.

“I don’t think that’s the same thing.”

His brow lifts, “It is, according to the internet.”

“Sure, Wade. The Internet.” Your eyes roll, as you shift - adjusting the box as it rests against your hip, “Speaking of though, is he, uh, home?” 

Wade doesn’t hear you. His eyes have already dropped, just noticing what you’re carrying. A tilt of his head as he peers through the transparent film on top. 

“What is that?” His finger pokes the box, and your eyes dip down

“It’s nothing,” You start - but you know he won’t let it drop, “Well, actually, it’s - I uh, made him a-”

The words peter out lamely, as you hold up the box. Wade’s teeth sink into the side of his lip, as he bites back a cackle. 

“Did you seriously bake him a ‘thanks-for-the-sex’ cake?” 

You blink, “No!”

A pause, as mortification wells in you.

“Oh my god,” It’s a whisper, as your hand drags across your face, “Oh my god, Wade. I baked him a sex cake.”

You shove at him as he laughs - his hands sneaking beneath your arm to wrestle the box away from you, “Mm, you’ve got it bad, girlfriend. This is pretty embarrassing, real hard to come back from.”

“There was context!” You insist, reaching for it, “Give that to me.”

Wade twists - pivoting away from you, “Oh ho, not a chance, Sugarplum.”

Your forearm presses into his chest as you lunge at him, but it’s all too easy for him to set the box on the cluttered end-table, barring you as he closes the door - trapping you both out in the hallway. 

“He earned it, from what I heard,” He chuckles, “And are you really gonna take it away from him?”

You’re still mentally, and possibly physically, cringing. Leaning against the wall, while he blocks the door. 

Wade is still grinning, a sigh as his arms cross,“God, I wish he was here.”

And for the first time all day, you’re glad he’s not. It had seemed like a sweet idea but you’re left feeling like an idiot now - already planning on trying to sneak back in and grab it when Wade isn’t looking. 

“He’s not?” You’re fishing. Hook and bobber, a flick as you cast out your heart, fingers on the reel. Pathetic, perhaps, but you can’t resist, “You think he’ll be back tonight?”

“Ooh, the real reason you stopped by. I see how it is.” He sniffs, “But no, I’ve got no idea. Left this morning with Laura, something about a job.”

A beat, before he adds, “Which about time, bee tee dubs. Great face card, but Old Wadey here is about to go into overdraft.”

“Laura?” You parrot, without thinking. A frown creasing your brow, the slightest downturn of your lips.

He catches the expression immediately. 

Wade smirks, “Ooh, you are looking so green, Sugar. Never took you for the jealous type.”

An inhale of air between his teeth, head tilting as his hands brace on his hips, “God I could make this so complicated right now. Drag this whole thing out to another chapter, but I won’t, because I just so happen to like you.”

A beat, before he puts you out of your misery, “Laura’s his daughter. Well, this world’s Logan’s daughter. Well, he’s the baby daddy, but there’s no mom. Well, it’s complicated.”

“Oh.” You manage. Another detail to keep up with, something you tuck away with the rest. To ask Logan about later, when you see him - a feeling that he might be a little more coherent in his explanation.

“I’m sure you’ll meet her.” Wade smiles, “Good kid, I mean, as good as you can be with that as a father figure. So much trauma.”

You hum. He had hinted at that. You couldn’t believe that his world didn’t want him. Not sure what could have happened to have him all but warn you the night before.

As if it would make you not want him. 

There’s a beat, before his hands are resting on his hips, “Okay. I need to go back to the apparently-contextual-sex-cake.” 

You groan, slumping against the wall - the heels of your palms digging into your closed eyes.

“I thought it was embarrassing but I gotta admit that I’m jealous. It’s really bothering me that no one’s ever baked me a cake, because I’m a very tender and generous lover.”

“That wasn’t why. He seemed interested in trying a non-phallic version of the cake I made for you,” You try to keep it professional, but he’s already smirking, “Which thank you for bringing up by the way, really broke the ice.”

“Without me you’d still be at ‘favorite colors’,” Wade’s smile widens, before he sighs longingly, “And god, that cake was good. Best dick I’ve ever had in my mouth.”

You snort, “So far, right?”

His eyes widen.

“You little slut, are you shopping for a third already?” Wade twists the doorknob - opening it a crack with his yell, “Al, it’s happening!”

“No,” You laugh, “I just meant-, I meant I might get better.”

“Can’t beat perfection. And I would know, with a face like this.”

There’s a high-pitched yap then, the sound of nails scratching at the wooden door. 

“Ooh, duty calls. Pun intended. Again.” He thumbs over his shoulder, “I’ll tell him you stopped, by if-”

You give him a look, but a grin still tugs at your lips, “If I do that other thing you’re always asking me to do.”

His hand presses against his chest, in mock-offense.

“I can’t believe you’d say that! I was going to say if you don’t see him first.”

It makes you smile. Fondly, even. 

“Thanks, Wade.”

His hand pats your shoulder. 

“Any time, Sugar. My holes are always open.”

You sigh. 

You don’t see him until late in the evening. 

The afternoon ticking by. Telling yourself you don’t care - to play it cool - only to turn around and try to convince yourself that open communication is the way to go.

Vegging out in front of the television for a while - trying to figure out what to order for dinner. Narrowing it down to two takeout locations when there’s a series of bangs in the hallway.

Layered voices. 

You can’t help but look. Half-nosy and half-worried for Wade, even if he did have mutant powers. Even if you can’t offer much for backup, it doesn’t stop you from cracking open the door. 

“-open the goddamn door right now, I’ll break it down.”

The growling voice is one you’ve come to know, even if it’s angrier than you’ve ever heard.

The side of Logan’s fist colliding with the door frame, his shoulder pressed up against the wooden door.

“Not a chance, Jack Torrance.” Wade’s voice is muffled, “Always wanted to be an uncle and you are not ruining this for me-”

The doorknob rattles under his grip, as he snarls, “You roped me into this, shithead. All that talk about getting to know-“

“New York’s Cupid is never wrong! Don’t you dare ruin my streak!”

It’s then that Logan sees you - the snarl on his face flickering. Expression going flat.

A final filthy glare shot at the door before he steps away. The calculated look he throws your way makes you think he’s considering making for the end-of-the-hall staircase instead.

What is happening? 

A beat, before his jaw grits. Hand shoving into the pocket of his jeans. Closing the gap between you only to thrust out a rolled-up bundle of bills, secured with a rubber band. 

“For the mattress.” 

There’s a frustrated rumble in his throat when you don’t take it - too busy frowning, your eyes flicking from the bills to his face.

“I don’t want that?” It comes out like a question, as you try to put the pieces together. 

“Just take it.” He grits. Eyes dropping, “You can replace your mattress and we can forget last night happened, if you regret it so much.”

You blink.

“I don’t regret last night, Logan.” Your hands brace on your hips, “You were the one that left. Which is fine, if that’s how you like things to go, but don’t you dare point your finger-”

Logan scoffs, interrupting you.

“I didn’t leave.” His tongue licks against his teeth, as his head shakes, “I slept on the couch. Perfect place to hear your rant this morning.”

Your hands brace on your hips, “My rant?”

“Yeah, Sugar.” He’s stepping into your space - and it shouldn’t be as hot as it is, but something about how you’re bumping up against the door has your heart racing, “Heard everything you said. How ‘fucking dumb you are’, how you regret it.”

A beat, as you process - a thunk, as you head tips back against the door. Everything becoming clear, and you almost laugh. 

He hadn’t left.

“I wasn’t talking about you.” 

His frown deepens.

Your face softens, “How could I think that? I spent all day thinking about you. I was mad at myself for taking an early shift, instead of getting that extra time with you.”

There’s still a jut to his jaw. Defenses and hackles raised - your words as useless as his fist against the door.

Your hands spread wide, “I even baked you a cake, which is apparently something I do when I like someone.”

He goes still at that, eyes dark. A lithe roll of his shoulders as he steps closer - voice dropping, “Say that again.”

“I baked you a cake?” You repeat, distracted by his proximity.

“Mm,” Logan hums, “Not the beginning. The last part.”

Your cheeks heat, as you realize what you said, “When… when I like someone.”

There’s the touch of his fingers against your chin. Tipping your face towards his, even as your eyes drift to somewhere over his shoulder. Too embarrassed to meet his gaze just yet.

“Is that right?” Logan husks. 

The word slips from you, “Maybe.”

“I like maybe.”

That emboldens you to look. He’s close now, a mimicry of the night before - just on the other side. 

The hand still hovers, in that narrow gap between you. Fingers flexing around the bundle of bills, “I still want you to take this.”

“Well, I don’t want it.” Your head shakes, “Maybe just for some new sheets, but I thought-“ 

There’s a different intent in the way he crowds you, now. A softer slope of his shoulders, the sweep of his thumb against your skin. 

“Thought what?”

The low husk makes you squirm. His eyes half-lidded when you glance at him. The heat of his anger morphing into a much different kind of fire. 

“Thought that if it was already ruined…” You trail off, as you smile. 

As you hope.

“….maybe you’d want to ruin it a little more with me, sometime?”

There’s the slightest pull of his lips, as he smirks. 

You make it inside, but no further than the couch. It’s familiar, the way his hand cradles the base of your neck. The muted sigh, when your lips part at the sweep of his tongue.

Laid down against the cushions, legs spread to fit him between them. Hips that dip down, the meat of his thigh nudging against your core, sending your heart racing. 

How he chases after you, when you forget to breathe. Leaning in you as your fingers twist in his hair, tugging him closer. 

Need pounds in your vein, matching the pulse in your throat when his lips press against it. Wandering hands, one that palms the curve of your breast. A throaty hum when he can feel the tight peak through the fabric, pinching it between thumb and forefinger.

The other skating up your bare thigh, raising goosebumps. Slipping beneath the hem of your dress, his leg shifting to make room. Fingertips stroking against your inner thigh - the soft crease as you whine into his mouth, feeling how his lips curve as he kisses you. 

You’re wet already. You know you are - since that spark of realization, then the moment when his mouth pressed against yours. Fueled by the heavy weight of him as he guided you beneath him, smelling like smoke and wood and the sharp bite of leather. 

Wound up by this teasing, and it’s enough that your hand is catching his wrist, pulling his palm flush with your core. 

The moan it pulls from you is ragged. Logan’s hand is warm where he cups you, curling fingers against the curve of your ass, heel pressing against your seam. 

Another rock of his hand, until there’s a soft “please” slipping from your lips. Fingers slip beneath then - a ragged curse muttered against your lips as they part you.

Slipping against where you’re wet and warm. The tips of two pressing against your opening, feeling how you give for him.

“Should let me make it up to you.” Logan’s voice is ragged, as he sinks to the knuckle. A slow pump as you clench down around them, a lift of your hips as you try to take more. 

It’s on the tip of your tongue to protest. 

Remind him it was just a misunderstanding, but then your eyes are fluttering open, seeing how his dark gaze is fixed on you.

Your answer is quiet, “Okay. S’long as you don’t stop.”

There’s the flash of sharp teeth. You mourn the weight of him as he eases off of you, fingers slipping free. But it’s only to catch your thighs - smearing slick across your skin as he moves to the floor. Tugging you until legs spread wide for him, hips at the edge of the couch.

There’s a hitch of your breath, as you hold it. His lips pressing against your knee, as his hand bundle up the fabric. A slow reveal as he fists it around his fingers, bringing it up to rest against your abdomen.

His kisses follow the path his fingers took. Open-mouthed against your thigh, until his tongue dips out to taste the soft skin where your leg meets hip.

“Logan,” You huff - needy, “Don’t tease.”

His eyes lift from where they lingered - the darkened patch of fabric between your thighs. 

“Been teasing me since I left. Couldn’t stop thinking about this.” It comes out rough, his eyes flicking back down.

“But I thought-,” You start. It’s hard to think when he’s this close, the press of his thumb into the joint of your knee - keeping your legs spread, “Thought you were mad.”

Logan huffs. Lips ghosting against your skin, as he inhales, “At the thought of never having you again.”

It’s like being struck by an arrow, piercing clean through. The little gasp turning long, as his hand slips up your thigh. Catching at the waistband of your panties - tugging them down so he can get his mouth on you.

The tip of his tongue meets you before his lips do. A low groan as it flattens against your slit, tasting your arousal. His nose pressing against your mound as he teases at your clit. Slipping down to dip inside you, as your nails scrape against the cushions. 

Slicking you up with his tongue. The buzzing groan of his lips against your skin as he eats you - open-mouthed kisses against your core. Tight licks against your clit, before his lips close around and suck.

It leaves you a mess. Short panting breath, as he gives you what you need. His name melding in with your gasps, as that string inside you winds tighter and tighter.

The pressure eases and you whimper as he leans back, jaw working. Lips shiny where he’s smeared with you - watching how you clench for him as he lets spit pool on his tongue, before it’s dropping against your folds. 

It’s filthy, the way he rubs it into your skin. Coating his fingers before the two are notching again, before sinking deep into you.

A moan is pulled from you, with the stretch. Stealing your breath, even with how eager you are. Giving you more. That dull ache easing as his mouth returns to you. Hungry in the way he groans against your skin, as if he was getting off to your pleasure.

The time before doesn’t compare to now. The full focus of his fingers, buried deep and crooking. Pointed flicks of his tongue - the way his eyes are so fixed on your face.

Catching the pull of your brow and the way your teeth sink into your lip. Keeping the pounding pace steady when he sees how you gasp, your fingers fisting in his flannel. Relentless in the way they stroke against the spot that makes you see stars. 

It sends you higher and higher. A groan against your skin when you buck into his mouth. Another one, louder, when your hand slips to his hair and tugs. 

“Feels so fucking good, Logan,” You’re babbling now - desire slurring the syllables, “I’m so, I’m so close-”

Those dark eyes settle over you - his mouth busy but it’s not hard to imagine the way he’d encourage you. The husk of his voice, that tough timber as a low command melds with praise. The thought is enough to send you over - with the soft suck of his mouth, the way his fingers fill you. 

Your knees dig into his shoulders as you curl inward - that hand at your belly pressing you flat against the cushions as you come. Making you take what he gives you - the flick of his tongue going lazy as the tight pulse around his fingers ebbs. 

The tension leeches from you, turning to glitter in your veins. That tight knot of worry slowly unfurling - giving you something to grasp, hold onto, as you come back down. A sigh when his fingers slip from you. The hungry press of teeth against your inner thigh, a reminder that he’s there. Soothing it with the swipe of his tongue after. 

Easing back as you push yourself up - his shoulder pressing into the edge of the couch as he sits on the floor. Your limbs are liquid as you slip down to join him - Logan’s broad hands gripping at your waist, your thighs splitting as you throw a leg across his lap.

“You’re too good at that.” You hum, as you settle in his lap bare, spit-slick against his jeans. Against where he strains, a breath hissed out as you tug at his belt. Reaching to help you - loosening the button, tugging at the zipper.

A lift of his hips to push his jeans down, his cock full and hard where it rests against your belly. His hands reaching for the hem of your dress, tugging it from you. Fingers slipping around to loosen your bra as your mouth meets his. 

He tastes like you, as he licks into your mouth - a sweet tang that blends with him. His shaft pressing against your pussy as he lifts his hips, grinding himself into you. You push yourself up onto your knees - his lips parting with a groan as your fingers circle him, holding him steady.

It breaks off - a sharp hiss, when you sink down. 

There’s no slow slide this time. Too eager, in the way you drop down. Taking half of him at once, with a breath that chokes you. His fingers pinching hard enough to bruise, as his brow knits. 

“Easy, sweetheart.” He grits, “Not going anywhere, alright?”

It soothes you, as your nails bite into his shoulders. Pink marks that ebb away by the time you start moving - a slow bounce until you’re sitting flush on his lap, cock speared inside you. 

It’s also different than last time. He’d been deep, then. Your faced pressed into the mattress as you had panted - but now -

Now, his mouth is at your shoulder. Lips pressed against the fading mark he had left. That tight grip of his hands loosening, as he guides you - letting your hips rock. A shallow drag of his cock inside you, feeling like he’s in your ribs. 

Another press of his mouth against your sternum. Hands slipping down to wrap around your thighs, encouraging you to lift a little more. Enough that he can get his mouth on you - his tongue laving across a nipple. Groaning as you press your chest against him, leaning into the suck of his lips, the nip of teeth.

His thrusts like this are shallow, punctuated by the occasional deep thrust that has you panting. Has your fingers loosening to slip between your thighs, pressing against your clit.

You can feel the scrape of his facial hair. The ease of his hands as he lets you drop, until he’s buried in you again. Catching at your wrist, tugging your hand back to his shoulder.

“Uh-uh.” Logan tongue clicks, eyes dark, “Just keep riding, honey.”

His fingers replace yours. Slick circles, a pressure that makes you clench down hard around him. 

A soft coo, as your breathing shortens - turning to whimpers. 

“Lemme make you feel good.”

And this is new, too - how close he is. Those hazel eyes focused so singularly on you, it’s almost too much.

“You do make me feel good,” You breathe, letting your lips press against his cheek, ‘You’re, oh-”

His hips stutter, where he flexes into you. Your own pace sloppy - grinding instead of bouncing, chasing the building pleasure in your core. The soft sounds you make growing louder. His legs flexing beneath you, feet going flat against the floor so he can drive himself up.

There’s that tell-tale clench. The way your vision starts to go blurry, words slipping into sounds. 

“Logan.” You, “I’m-,”

He can feel it - the way you tighten as he pounds into you. The glaze of your eyes, the throaty moan as you start to string stiff in his arm. 

“That’s it,” Logan rasps, face tipped up to yours, “You gonna come for me?”

Your moan pitches high. 

He grins. 

“Then let me hear how pretty you sound. Come on, sweetheart.”

With the circle of his fingers, you’re shattering.

A soft cry as you come again, gushing against the cock that only pounds harder. Drawing out the flutter of your cunt as he grips your thighs, rocking into you. A ragged moan as he feels how you flutter around him, head tipped back. An arm wrapping around you back as he tips forward, bringing you down to the floor.

You head cushioned on the pile of discard clothes. His knees brace against the rug as the angle changes, sending him deeper. Lifting your hips, eyes fixed on where he drives into you. The gleam of his cock where he’s soaked with your release, how he slips between your puffy folds.

His teeth grit. Fingers flexing against your skin. A rough moan when your hips move to meet his thrusts.

“You want me to come in you again?” There’s an edge to his voice. Eyes fixed on your face, searching.

You nod, but it’s not enough. 

His hips snap harder, breath ragged, “Ask me for it, Sugar.”

It makes your stomach clench. Something deep burning, liquid heat in your core. Your legs hitch around his waist, hooking around his back.

“Want you to come in me,” You beg, “Logan, please-”

His eyes flutter shut. The muscles in his neck flex, as he arcs over you - a hand braced on the floor, pricks of silver glinting between his knuckles.

A rough growl that turns into something soft as his hips snap forward - hilting himself as he comes. Hips pumping with each pulse of his cock, as he spills deep inside you. As you milk him dry, until the heavy throb of his cock fades. 

He’s beautiful. It leaves you dizzy.

You really might just have to bake him another.

The golden sunset seeps through the windows, spilling across the floor.

“You wanna stay?” 

It comes out drowsy. Your limbs are liquid, even more so than last time, “I know a great takeout place.”

You’ll need a little fuel, if tonight goes as it did before. 

He hums - the brush of bare fingers down your spine. It’s cramped on the couch, entwined limbs. Sweat-dewed in the summer evening. 

“You still wanna get to know me?”

Your nose brushes his throat. Cheek pressed up against the curl of his shoulder - where he can just feel you nod, “I would. If you’ll let me.”

“Yeah,” Logan rasps, quietly.

“Yeah. That sounds nice.”

I can't even express how just - grateful and thrilled and happy I am that so many of you liked sugar, sugar! thank you for the encouragement for this part 2, and I hope you liked it! 💖 I have one more part planned (though open for more!) that I've been working on, along with more for the wade x f!reader x logan fic as well!

[cherrygirlfriend]

passenger princess pairing: sunshine!reader x grumpy!rafe synopsis: no one touches your side of the car warnings: fluff! wc: 700 this was such a cute little idea, i loved it!!! this is for the baddies that refuse to get a license ⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ thank you for requesting!

whenever you'd come up with some new, ridiculous way to 'tune up' what you had deemed your side of his car, rafe would act like it was such a bother; like he really didn't get why you felt the need to be doing all that.

rafe's side of the car was, well, normal. sure, he had a few documents he kept in the driver's seat sun visor, but everything else was sleek, normal, but your side was like a kindergartner's dream come true. it got so ridiculous that you had a fluffy blanket you'd stuffed into the glove compartment, conveniently ignoring the gun he kept there. sure, that came in use for car quickies, but most of the time it was just there for when you felt like... napping.

the dashboard had a bunch of stickers as well as some of those weird furry toys (calico crits or some shit) along with those weird little babies with fruits on their heads; you'd put blu-tack on their feet to make sure they stayed in their rightful places. even the cup holder was taken over by a little plushie, and he'd basically had to argue for you to not get a pink cover for the steering wheel; that ended up with you giving him the silent treatment for a week until he showed up behind your door with more ridiculous trinkets for your side of the car.

secretly, he liked the fact that there was your side of the car, that even when you weren't there, he could still see traces of you everywhere.

rafe let out a small sigh, tapping his long digits against the steering wheel, glancing down at his watch the longer it took barry to get there; finally, he saw the man getting out of his trailer, letting out a low "fucking finally..." while barry opened the door to rafe's car, his eyes immediately landing on the crap on your side of the car. "don't ask."

"wasn't gonna." barry huffed in amusement, getting into the decorated side of the car, and rafe wished he wasn't in such a hurry, the sight being so ridiculous. "you're whipped, huh?"

"what are you talking about?" rafe scoffed, the car lurching forward as he started it, barry adjusting the cute seat cover you'd recently bought, letting out a small tut. "i wouldn't do that." but before rafe could stop barry from further meddling with your settings, he'd already started adjusting the seat, making him groan internally.

"are you gonna get shit for it?"

"obviously." rafe scoffed, "and you will too. it took her, like, a month to adjust it to be comfortable. so stop touching her shit."

still, barry continued looking at the little trinkets you kept on your side of the car, taking one of those weird fruit babies and toying with it, letting out a small snort, but when they pulled up in front of an unfamiliar house instead of the house party rafe had told him they'd be going, barry looked at the blonde with furrowed brows, who simply scratched the back of his neck.

"don't tell-"

before he could finish his sentence, barry was startled by the sound of a knock on the passenger seat window, and when he turned around, you were standing there, mouthing something.

"she's saying you're in her seat." rafe muttered under his breath, barry laughing at this; it was getting more and more ridiculous by the minute.

"whipped. w-h-i-p-p-e-d." barry slapped rafe's shoulder, making the blonde roll his eyes as barry got out of the passenger's seat.

"hi." you said with an excited smile as you climbed onto your side of the car, pressing a soft kiss on rafe's stubbled cheek, all the while barry climbed into the backseat, feeling like he was a damn kid getting a ride to school from his parents.

however, as you tried to settle onto your usual seat, you looked between the two men with narrowed eyes, your glossed lips pursing into a pout, rafe feeling like he might burn under your gaze.

"did he mess with my seat?"

"i told him not to!"

"barry!" you exclaimed, your keen eyes landing on the dashboard, noticing that something was missing; you turned around to face him, a sheepish grin on barry's face.

"barry, give me the angel back!"

[sugoroo]

TRADING CARDS!

ʚɞ summary: toji’s in need of some cash, and you’re in need of having your cherry popped! he’ll take your v card if you lend him your credit card. simple, right?

warnings: fem!reader, penetration (p in v), breast play, tummy bulge, squirting, loss of virginity (reader), fingering, oral (f receiving), age gap (reader just finished college), tojis a bit of a perv, 18+ minors dni.

wc: 7.2k

"hey, doll?" toji grunts as he pokes his head into your room, his hands shoved deep in his pockets as he shoots you a slightly apologetic grin. "i'm gonna need ya to cover my half of the rent again this month."

you look up from your phone, your lips pulling down into a small frown at his words. this isn't the first time this has happened, and it certainly won't be the last, either. "seriously, toji?"

toji simply gives you a noncommittal shrug in response, turning the pockets of his sweatpants inside out as if to further prove his point — there wasn't a single cent in sight. "i ain't got nothin', sweets. hardly been able to buy food these last few days."

you roll your eyes, letting out a soft huff at his not-so-subtle attempt to make you feel bad for him (which almost always worked, and he knew it.) "fine. but you better come through next month. i can't keep covering you."

he lets out a sigh of relief, reaching out to ruffle your hair with one his large hands. "yeah yeah, i'll pay up next time. promise." he was lying through his teeth, and you both knew it. but you chose not to comment on it — maybe a small part of you wanted to keep toji as your roommate, even if you had to pay his rent half the time.

toji heads back out into the living room to lazily slump across the couch, leaving you to your own thoughts.

it was really starting to grate on your nerves how much you had to support him. he's a fully grown man, and you're a young girl fresh out of college. and yet, somehow, you ended up being the one paying his bills with the leftover money from your summer job.

and maybe it wouldn't bother you so much, if you weren't so constantly pent up.

college was supposed to be your time to shine, where you'd attend countless parties and have meaningless hookups with guys in bathrooms, just like all the movies you watched when you were younger.

but it wasn't really like that. and as much as you loathe to admit it, you're still a virgin. with only your own feeble fingers to keep you company, you can probably count on one hand the amount of orgasms you've had in your life.

and that's when you have an idea.

it's just like trading cards — toji takes your v card, and in return, you lend him your credit card.

it's shameless, and you might've felt embarrassed with yourself for even coming up with it if you weren't in dire need of releasing some tension.

and if toji's as desperate for money as he makes out like he is, maybe he wouldn't mind agreeing to your little proposition.

the only catch in your genius idea is that you actually have to ask toji about it.

you've been lingering outside his bedroom door for what feels like hours, trying to figure out how to actually phrase your proposal without making a complete fool of yourself.

but just as you timidly raise a fist to knock, the door swings open, and toji walks right into you, causing you to collide face first with his toned chest. you barely register the two strong hands that rest over your shoulders to steady you, your mind suddenly laser focused on the way your cheek is squished between his pecs.

"oops. sorry, doll," toji chuckles heartily, moving one of his hands from your shoulder to gently grasp your hair and pull your now noticeably flushed face away from his chest. "didn't see ya there."

"n-no, it's my fault." you manage to stammer out, taking a few deep breaths in an attempt to regain your composure. shit, you hadn't even asked him yet, and you were already a mess.

he raises a thick eyebrow at your skittish demeanour, his hand leaving your hair to teasingly poke at one of your adorably pink cheeks. "aww, what's this? you blushin'?"

you try and shoot him a glare, but it looks more like a pout than anything else as you meekly swat his hand away from your face. "shut up, toji. you're the one who walked right into me."

he lets out a deep, amused chortle at this, crossing his arms over his chest and staring down at you with a lazy smirk. "right. and you're the one who was lingering outside my door like a creeper."

you let out an embarrassed huff at his rebuttal, knowing there's no way to deny it now. you take another deep breath, idly wringing your hands as you crane your neck to look up at him. "yeah. about that. i, um, i wanted to ask you something."

toji cocks his head to the side, his expression turning mildly curious. "oh? what could you possibly want to ask this old man, hm?" he grunts, your little nervous fidgets not going unnoticed by him.

"w-well, i, um..." you begin, your features twisting up into a grimace as you struggle to get the words out. damn it, you were already cursing your past self for thinking this was a good idea. "i have a proposition for you."

this seems to pique the dark-haired man's interest, and he straightens his back slightly, reaching up with a large hand to scratch his chin. "what kind of proposition are we talkin', sweets?"

you swallow thickly at the way he puts such emphasis on the word proposition, as if he already knows exactly what you're thinking. but of course he doesn't — how could he?

"the kind of proposition where i lend you my credit card to help with your little... money problem," you begin, fighting to keep your voice as steady as possible. "and in return, you..."

toji's eyebrows raise even higher at your words, and he lets out a grunt of irritation when you trail off at the end of your sentence. "in return i what? use your words, doll."

"and in return, you..." you repeat quietly, your voice becoming consistently quieter until the last few words come out as a mere whisper. "help me lose my virginity."

the silence that follows your words is absolutely deafening, the only noise being the faint sounds of cars passing by the road outside the apartment.

you immediately start thinking of ways to salvage the situation, maybe just laugh it off and say it was a prank or something. it's a flimsy excuse, but it's better than this painful silence.

just as you open your mouth in an attempt to backtrack, toji grasps your chin in one large hand, effectively shutting you up with the movement. "you're a damn virgin?" he rasps out, turning your flushed face from side to side as if examining it would help him find the answer.

"u-uh, yeah," you mutter sheepishly, shrinking in on yourself slightly under the sudden intensity of his gaze. "why do you sound so surprised?"

toji barks out an almost incredulous laugh, as if you were utterly ridiculous for even asking such a thing. "seriously?" he huffs, shaking his head. "you're a fine little thing. figured ya would've had guys linin' up around the block for ya at college."

your eyes widen almost comically at his words, your mouth opening and closing a few times as you try to form a coherent response. you never expected your considerably older, rough around the edges roommate to actually find you attractive. "i-is that a yes, then?"

he scoffs loudly at this, repeating your words back to you in a mocking tone. "how the hell do ya expect me to say no to that?" he mutters, the pad of his thumb skimming across your jaw. "i've done worse deals for a whole lot less."

you let out a long sigh of relief, some of the tension leaving your shoulders at his agreement. the hardest part was out the way — you'd managed to get him on board.

"hey." toji grunts, his hand on your chin squeezing hard enough to get your attention as he angles it higher, tearing you from your thoughts. "look at me when we're talkin', girl."

your eyes widen even further at his sudden commanding tone, your thighs instinctively pressing together slightly beneath your skirt. the reaction doesn't go unnoticed by toji, but he doesn't comment on it, simply filing the information away for later.

"ya sure this is what y'want, sweets?" toji asks, his voice barely above a low mutter as he leans his head down closer to your level, his hot breaths just barely puffing across your face as he seemingly searches for any signs of hesitance. "once it's done there ain't no goin' back."

"i... i know." you gulp, vaguely aware of the way his dark eyes follow the gentle bobbing of your throat. "i wouldn't have asked if i didn't want this."

he hums, appearing satisfied with your answer. his thumb moves from your jaw to the plump skin of your lower lip, pulling it down slightly before letting it snap back into place. "how long do i get ya credit card for?"

"how long?" you repeat, blinking a few times. you hadn't even thought about that. and it was becoming quite hard to focus with the way he was toying with your lip. "um... twenty four hours."

toji grunts in acknowledgement, but his lips start to spread into a mischievous grin, and you can tell he's not going to make this easy for you. "nah. forty eight."

you let out an indignant huff, your eyes narrowing at the audacity of this man. two whole days? he was probably planning on bankrupting you at this rate. "thirty six." you counter.

he lets out a hearty laugh, his chest visibly rumbling with amusement at your haggling. his thumb traces over your lip again, causing you to let out a shuddering breath. "mm. ya got y'erself a deal there, dollface."

"good." you mutter, reaching out a hand towards him in a gesture of sealing the deal. toji takes it, his large hand entirely enveloping yours as he gives it a brisk shake.

before you can even think of saying anything else, toji uses his grip on your hand to tug you closer to his chest, your face almost colliding with his torso again.

"i'm assumin' you've atleast kissed before?" toji muses, this thumb still tracing the contour of your lips as if that would answer his question.

you let out a small, embarrassed laugh, rubbing the back of your neck as you find yourself avoiding his gaze again. "yeah, i have."

toji tuts, yanking your chin back up again, more forcibly this time. "jesus, girl. what did i say about keeping your eyes on me?" he grumbles. "and whatcha laughin' for? i say somethin' funny?"

"sorry." you huff, your lips pushing out into an involuntary pout. "i'm not laughing because of you. it was just a really... bad kiss."

he hums in response, tilting his head to the side as his grin morphs into a small smirk. "damn. a virgin and you've never even had a good kiss. i got my work cut out for me here."

you try and shoot him another glare, a huff of exasperation leaving your lips. "no need to rub it in, toji. i'm paying you for this, remember?"

toji barks out an amused chuckle, shaking his head at your little attempts to try and look stern. cute. "yeah yeah, i know ya are. and don't worry, ya won't regret it."

you're about to open your mouth to retort, but before a single syllable can leave your mouth, toji's lips are on yours. they're rough and slightly chapped as they brush over your own, just the texture you would've expected them to be if you had to guess.

it's not a rough kiss, but it's not exactly gentle either. it's somewhere in the middle, somewhere that makes you think even the way toji kisses is just so... toji.

he pulls away after a few moments, letting out a soft huff of laughter at your dazed expression. "you still in there, sweets?" he hums, flicking his thumb against your forehead.

you can feel the way your cheeks flush darker at his taunting words, silently cursing yourself for getting so worked up over a simple kiss. damn it, it was so obvious just how touch starved you were. how were you going to make it through this?

"i'm still here." you grumble under your breath, causing toji to chuckle even harder. "and if you're just gonna keep laughing at me, maybe i'll go ask someone else to help me."

toji's chuckle turns into a bark of laughter, and his lips curve up into a smug grin as he flicks your forehead again. "no can do. we already shook on it. handshake's sacred, dollface. dontcha know?"

"ugh. you just made that—" you attempt to argue, but he shuts you up by pressing his lips back onto yours again, slightly rougher this time. you let out a sound of surprise against his mouth when his scar brushes against your skin, but slowly, you start to reciprocate the gesture.

he lets out a satisfied hum, starting to take a few steps backwards through the doorway of his room, his lips still moving against yours all the way.

you angle your face up to unknowingly chase after his lips when he pulls away, and you have to swallow down the embarrassing sound that threatens to escape you when you realize what you're doing.

toji snorts, shutting the door behind the two of you with a stupidly self-satisfied smirk stretching across his lips. "that attached to me already, huh? we only just started."

"i'm not attached." you scoff meekly, though your actions severely contradict your words as you lean up on your tiptoes in the search of another kiss.

"mhm. whatever y'say, girl." he mutters amusedly, his hand snaking under your chin again to help you reach his mouth. he meets you halfway, his kisses growing slowly more insistent as his tongue flickers out to swipe over your lower lip.

a soft gasp escapes your lips at the feeling of the warm, wet muscle asking for entrance into your mouth, but you comply, parting your lips to allow the intrusion.

he lets out a satisfied grunt, his tongue darting every which way as it expertly explores the warm cavern of your mouth. you just stand there, completely stock still, for a long few seconds before your own tongue starts to meekly lick against his.

"yeah, there we go," toji mutters into your mouth, his thick tongue easily enveloping yours as he rolls them together. he's so effortless with it, like this is second nature for him — you suppose it probably is. you're not oblivious to the amount of hookups he brings back to the apartment when he thinks you're asleep.

toji pulls back from your mouth with a lewd pop! once he registers that you need some air, observing the way your chest rapidly rises and falls like you can't get enough oxygen with silent amusement.

he's going to have such fun pulling more of these pretty reactions from you.

while you're still desperately trying to catch your breath, he slides both of his rough, calloused palms under the fabric of your shirt, his hands leaving a tingling trail of heat across your skin.

"wait—" you begin to protest, but whatever you were going to say trails off once you feel his fingers brush against the underside of your breasts.

he lets out a grunt of surprise, raising his bushy eyebrows. "no bra, doll?" toji scoffs, shaking his head. "you were ready for this, weren't ya?

your cheeks flood with embarrassment for the nth time this evening, and you feel the sudden urge to just shove his hands away and go back to your room to get yourself off with your feeble fingers. but you don't.

toji lets out yet another snort of laughter at your reaction, rolling his eyes. "i ain't sayin' it's a bad thing, girl," he mumbles, moving his hands to cup each of your breasts in his wide palms. "makes things easier for me. i like it."

you let out a small huff of relief at his sort-of-creepy reassurance, unable to fight the way your body instinctively leans into his touch, pressing your chest into his hands slightly.

he hums, removing his hands only to push your shirt up to get a look at your bare breasts, the fabric bunching up around your collarbone as he leans in closer to inspect your assets.

"toji!" you gasp in complaint, trying to push down the instinct to cover yourself up from your roommate's intense gaze. but when your hands fly up to guard your chest, he instantly grabs your wrists, making you freeze.

"ah ah," he chides with a smug smirk, easily moving both of your wrists into one hand while the other reaches out to fondle your breasts. "no need to be shy. ya got a nice pair of juicy tits right here."

his compliment is so lewd, and even with the way you attempt to wriggle your wrists free from his grip, he effortlessly keeps them trapped with one strong hand.

toji squeezes and kneads the supple flesh of your breasts, laving both with equal attention as he feels up every inch of skin available to him. he can't believe his little roommate has been hiding these pretty tits from him all this time.

when he leans down to pop one into his mouth, you let out a strangled gasp which quickly morphs into an almost pornographic moan when he starts to gently suckle at your highly sensitive nipple.

"shit." you manage to push out, your breaths becoming increasingly more erratic as he starts to flick his rough tongue over your perked bud. you can feel rather than hear the raspy chuckle he lets out at your reaction.

"so damn sensitive," toji rumbles as he pulls back from your breast, which is now shiny and slick with his salvia, before moving to the other. "y'like that, huh?"

it takes you a few moments to form a coherent response, your mind suddenly feeling unable to focus on anything other than the way he's practically making out with your chest. "y-yeah."

toji's smirk widens in a grin at your stammered words, clearly finding enjoyment in the way your body is reacting to his every touch. "bet ya do. poor thing, graduated college and still never been properly touched."

you let out an indignant huff, annoyance momentarily taking over your pleasure. damn it, why did he always have to mock you at any given opportunity? you're starting to wish you never told him about your virginity.

he snorts again at your huff, removing his mouth from your breast with a long, stringy trail of salvia connecting his lips to your chest. "whatcha huffin' for, girl? thought ya wanted this."

you shoot him another one of your trying-to-be-stern-but-really-just-pouting glares. "i do want this. but i also want you to stop laughing at me the entire time."

he rolls his eyes dramatically, acting as if not laughing at your expense was the most difficult thing he'd been asked to do today. "i'm not laughin' at you, dollface. i'm laughin' at those stupid ass college boys who missed out on having you like this."

before you can even begin to process his words, toji crowds you backwards until the backs of your knees hit the edge of his bed, and you instinctively plop down onto the mattress, looking up at him with wide eyes.

he snickers at your shocked expression, moving forward to stand between your legs. from this position, he towers over you even more than usual, and you have to crane your neck practically all the way back to meet his eyes.

"why so surprised, hmm?" toji drawls, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear in an uncharacteristically gentle touch. "y'think i didn't notice how pretty ya were the first damn day ya moved in?"

you open and close your mouth a few times before managing to pull yourself together enough to speak. "honestly? i kinda figured you didn't pay me much attention — considering how many hookups you bring around here."

he hums in response, moving his hand to grasp your chin and force you to maintain eye contact with him. "so you noticed that, huh?" he grunts, shrugging his shoulders slightly. "they're just distractions, really. i've wanted you for a while, but i assumed ya wouldn't be interested in and old man like me."

you can only raise an eyebrow incredulously at his words, as if he'd just said something ridiculous. "toji, you're so dramatic. you're not that old."

he barks out a loud laugh at this, slowly lowering himself to his knees between your legs. the audible sound of his muscles protesting the movement seems to disprove your words, making you wince. "no need to flatter me, sweets. i know 'm old." he mutters, his smirk still firmly in place.

you open your mouth to argue, but quickly forget whatever you were about to say when toji's large palms start to trail up your thighs, stopping just below the edge of your skirt.

"ya got no panties on too?" he asks teasingly, although you can hear the faint sense of actual curiosity in his tone. however, when his fingers graze against the edge of your lace panties, he huffs. "hmph. you disappoint me."

you roll your eyes at his words. you would've gone pantyless too, but unfortunately the prospect of finally losing your virginity made you so wet that you had to wear them to prevent yourself from dripping on the floor of the apartment.

"you've touched yourself before, i take it?" toji grunts as his hand moves to easily cup your clothed pussy in his palm, his smirk becoming a grin again when he feels how damp the material is.

you suck in a sharp breath, your eyes fluttering in pleasure at the feel of someone else's hand except your own touching your most sensitive area. "y-yeah, i have. but it's..."

toji seems to understand why you trailed off, letting out a hum of acknowledgement as his fingers start to rub little circles against your panties. "but your little fingers can't make you cum right, yeah?"

you can only manage a feeble nod, fighting the urge to start grinding yourself into his hand. he chuckles amusedly at your reaction, his fingers just dipping under the edge of your panties but not quite.

if you were one of his usual hookups, he'd probably be balls deep inside you by now. but you're not — you're his pretty little roommate he's had his eye on for a while, and on top of that, you're a virgin.

he's going to take his sweet time with you.

toji spends what feels like an eternity teasing you through your underwear until you're squirming restless on the edge of his bed before he finally, finally makes direct contact with your pussy.

"shit," he grunts as he swipes his finger through your sopping folds, the digit practically slipping across your slick skin. "you're so damn wet, baby. i've hardly even touched you yet."

you can't stop the pathetic whine that escapes your throat, your cheeks flushed a delightful shade of pink and your eyes half-lidded with need as you look down at him. "please, toji."

fucking hell. he actually has to restrain himself from just pouncing on you right there and then when you beg him so sweetly. instead, he lets out a raspy chuckle, his finger moving down to lazily circle your dripping entrance. "please what, girl? use your words."

"please..." you say again, your voice breathless as you wriggle your hips slightly underneath his hand. "touch me properly."

toji snorts at your phrasing, shaking his head. but before another retort can leave his lips, he's rendered speechless for a moment when he slides a finger into your entrance, your gummy walls instantly sucking him in.

"jesus," he mutters hoarsely, yanking your panties to the side with his other hand to get an unobstructed view of the way your little pussy flutters around his finger. "what a pretty fuckin' cunt."

you let out what can only be described as a mewl at his words, and the noise sounds foreign to your own ears. god, what is he doing to you?

he groans low in his throat at the sound you make, moving his finger around inside of you as gently as he can and brushing the thick digit against your spongy walls.

it should be illegal, really, how quickly toji manages to find your sweet spot. he's had a single finger inside your pussy for just under a minute, and the calloused pad of his digit is already grazing your sensitive g spot.

"ah!" you practically sob, your thighs instinctively clenching around his beefy arm. you've never felt such an intense spark of pleasure before — it's obvious you never managed to find that spot before when you attempted to get yourself off.

he grins smugly, brushing his finger over the spot again, almost touching it but not quite enough to properly stimulate you. "that's the spot, ain't it, dollface?" the question is rhetorical. you both know that's the spot.

but before you can start grinding yourself down onto his finger, he abruptly pulls it out, admiring the way the digit is now coated in your shiny slick.

you open your mouth to protest, or beg for more, or something, but all rational thoughts leave your mind when you see toji slip his finger into his mouth, sucking your juices from it with a low grunt.

"damn, that's good," he mutters gruffly, almost to himself, as he slides it out of his mouth with a lewd pop! — his eyes then fall back on your glistening pussy, his pupils dilated considerably more than before.

in a matter of moments, toji's slid your ruined panties down your legs, admiring the sticky mess soiled there before shamelessly shoving them in his pocket of his sweatpants.

"hey!—" you huff half-heartedly, but before you can even think of finishing the sentence, toji's chapped lips are placing a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses up your thighs.

"mmph," you moan softly, not bothering to protest as he slides your thighs further apart with his palms, his lips nibbling against the supple skin of your inner thighs, undoubtably leaving small marks that will bloom tomorrow.

"wanna eat you," toji murmurs once he's face to face with your pussy, his hot breaths puffing across your sensitive skin and visibly making your little clit twitch impatiently. "can i eat you, dollface?"

you crease your eyebrows a little in confusion at his request. from what you'd heard from your college friends, guys hated performing oral for girls. but the way toji was staring hungrily at your cunt, his tongue swiping across his dry lips, made you think he would simply laugh at you again if you told him that.

"o-okay," you mutter sheepishly. and the second the agreement leaves your lips, toji's burying his entire face against your heat, groaning into your pussy as he rubs his sharp nose up and down your sopping folds.

when he first slides his rough tongue across your sensitive skin, you swear you go cross-eyed for a full moment before regaining control of yourself. it's like nothing you've ever felt before, wet and warm and so deliciously lewd.

"fuckin' sweeter than candy," toji grunts against your skin, the vibrations causing your body to instinctively attempt to wriggle away. but he's not having it, his beefy arms wrapping around your thighs to keep you in place. "ah ah, no runnin', baby."

while before you might've tried to argue a little in protest, your brain has already turned to mush from just his finger and his tongue, so you can only let out a few unintelligible murmurs.

"yeahhh," he snorts as he continues to sloppily lap at your folds, gathering as much of your syrupy slick on his tastebuds as possible. "don't hear none of that backtalk now."

god, he's so messy with it. you can hardly manage to keep your eyes open to gaze at him, but when you do, it only makes your pleasure heighten to new levels.

you've never seen your roommate so focused on anything before — not even those storage wars shows he likes to shout at on the tv. his eyes are half-lidded, his thick fingers are digging into your thighs so hard you can visibly see the marks forming, and his tongue is ruthless as it delves in and out of your dripping hole.

"t-toji, shit. feels so good," you manage to stammer out, your head thrown back and your hands traveling up to tangle in his messy dark hair without thinking, tugging on it gently.

your action draws a raspy chuckle from low in toji's throat, and his sloppy, shameless tongue seems to speed up even more in response. you vaguely register a glob of saliva landing on your pussy, but just as quick as it falls there, he's already licking it back up. "c'mon, girl, i know you can pull harder than that."

you attempt to tug his dishevelled strands harder, but your hands feel weak, and your thighs are starting to shake slightly around his head. you notice a familiar spring coiling in the depths of your stomach, but it feels more intense than any build-up to an orgasm you've given yourself before.

"t-think i'm close." you gasp out, your mouth hanging open as you try and keep your body from collapsing back against the mattress. he's quick to help, his hands sliding up the back of your skirt to support your back.

toji hums in satisfaction, a shit-eating (or, in this case, a pussy-eating) grin spreading across his lips as he continues to devour you, his tongue repeatedly massaging your g spot.

it feels like he's trying to eat you whole, and it's completely overwhelming in the best way possible.

"yeah?" he mutters against your cunt, wrapping his lips around your puffy, swollen clit and sucking the sensitive bud harshly. "go on then, baby. cum for me."

it feels like a part of you was instinctively waiting for his permission, because the second those words leave his mouth, your entire body starts convulsing in his strong arms, a strangled cry leaving your open mouth as you orgasm.

your earlier suspicion was right, because this is the hardest you've ever cum before in your entire life. (not that there's really much competition). your limbs feel all tingly and airy, and there aren't really many thoughts left in your mind except from toji, toji, toji.

"hmmph," toji grumbles, pulling back from your cunt after he's sure every bit of your sweet release is down his throat. he looks up at you, snickering gruffly at the utterly dumb look across your features.

you look completely fucked out already, and he hasn't even fucked you yet. that's what happens when you make a deal with a virgin, he assumes.

while you attempt to come down from your high, toji shifts slightly, his knees aching slightly from spending so long on the floor. but even worse than that, is the raging erection he has straining against the material of his sweatpants.

it's been there since he started kissing you, and it's only gotten progressively worse as the time stretched on. he's so hard now that it actually hurts, and the small stain of pre-cum darkening the front makes him feel like a damn teenager again.

toji gets to his feet, ignoring the way his stiff muscles protest, and sheds his sweats and his boxers in one swift movement, kicking them somewhere across the room. he makes his way between your legs, spreading them even further apart to make room for his body.

"wait..." you mumble dazedly, your words adorably slurred as you blink lazily up at him, reaching out a hand as if silently asking for something. "don't y'want me to return the favour first?"

he snorts, although it makes something inside him warm the slightest bit at your consideration. "nah, dollface. you're paying me, not the other way 'round, yeah?"

your pouty expression from earlier returns, but before you can argue further, your eyes fall on his cock, which you only just notice is free from his sweatpants. it's bigger than any you've seen videos of online before, with a prominent vein running down the length and pearly rivulets of pre-cum leaking from the pudgy tip.

your mouth falls into a small 'o' shape, a sudden sense of dread filling you at the mere thought of trying to take that inside of you. why did you have to make this deal with someone who has such an unnecessarily large dick?

toji chuckles deeply at your reaction, cocking his head to the side with a smug smirk. "what? don't tell me you're g'nna chicken out on me now, sweets?"

you could just smooth down your skirt, hand him your credit card as payment for what he's done for you already, and walk right out of his room the way you came in.

but you don't. you've come too far already to back out now — you're this close to finally losing your virginity.

"no," you murmur meekly, swallowing thickly and tearing your eyes away from his cock and meeting his eyes again. "i don't wanna stop. it's just... is that thing really gonna fit in me?"

he barks out an amused laugh at this, his rough palms on your thighs squeezing in what's probably his way of giving you a reassuring gesture. "it'll fit, baby. i loosened you up a little already, so that'll help."

"okay," you mutter, your eyes flickering back down as he wraps a large hand around the meaty base of his cock, lining it up with your entrance and rubbing it along your puffy folds, gathering some of your creamy slick on the head. "is it gonna hurt? it's gonna hurt, isn't it?"

toji huffs at your hurried rambling, leaning his head down to shut you up with a quick kiss to your lips. "it'll only hurt at the start," he grunts in as soothing a tone as he can muster, bracing a hand against the headboard above you.

this seems to ease your nerves, if only a little, and you nod in a sign of silent permission. but he doesn't appear satisfied with this, and he grasps your chin with his free hand. "that ain't good enough, dollface. use your words f'me."

"y-you can start now." you murmur in response, your eyes glued to the way the muscles in his arm flex above you as he begins to slowly push himself in.

"fuckin' shit," he groans, the sound more guttural than anything he's let out so far as his cock breaches the first ring of muscle inside of you, his beefy arm visibly shaking as he tries to hold himself back from just plunging all the way in. "so damn tight in here."

your face contorts into a grimace as a rush of pain pangs through your body, your hands clutching at the sheets for purchase. you'd heard about it hurting online, but then again, most people didn't take a cock as big as toji's for their first time.

"sorry, babydoll." he mutters hoarsely, his gruff tone holding an underlying tone of genuine sympathy instead of the amusement he's shown so far — he's clearly aware of the strain he's having on your body.

he gives you a few moments to adjust to the intrusion, gritting his teeth to hold back any sounds that threaten to spill out of his mouth when he feels your cunt clenching and unclenching around him.

"you can keep going now," you manage to say, your eyes screwed shut and your hands fisted in the bedcovers as you try to deal with the pain. "i'm okay."

he grunts in response, the hand that was around your chin moving to grasp one of your balled up hands as he continues to sink himself inside inch by inch. he can feel how hard you squeeze his hand the entire time, probably cutting off the circulation to his arm in the process.

but he couldn't care less about that. not when he so close to finally being balls deep inside of his pretty little roommate.

"biiiig stretch." toji hums, a low, drawn out sound, when he finally feels himself bottom out, your spongy walls contracting and fluttering around him as if they can't decide whether to push the intrusion out or pull it in deeper. "there we go."

you, on the other hand, couldn't manage to string together a single syllable. it feels like toji has buried himself into your guts, like he's physically rearranging your anatomy right before your eyes.

toji lets his own eyes flutter shut for a moment, his adam's apple bobbing as he swallows thickly. he knows you need a while to adjust to taking all of him, but damn if he doesn't want to pound you into the mattress right now.

you let out a strangled groan, wriggling around against the covers as your body stretches to accommodate his sheer size. it feels like he could split you in half without much effort. "p-please... start moving, toji."

"you sure?" he rasps gruffly, his hand gripping the headboard so hard his knuckles have gone completely white. "once i start i prolly won't be able to stop."

"i-i don't care. just..." you begin, unable to even finish the thought when he shifts slightly, unintentionally pushing into you even deeper. "move."

he snorts at your desperation, but the sound turns into something akin to a growl when he pulls out slightly, before shoving himself right back in all the way.

"ah!" you sob pathetically, clinging onto his hand even tighter as he starts to shallowly thrust into you. shit, you're pretty sure you just felt something inside of you snap.

you're officially no longer a virgin.

"yeahhh." toji grunts above you, his lips spreading into a pussydrunk grin as he moves he moves his hips leisurely but expertly. you're starting to understand why his hookups always cry his name so loud through the thin walls separating your rooms.

the initial pain slowly starts to fade, being replaced by an overwhelming sense of pleasure and fullness. you bring your shaky legs up to wrap around his beefy back, your ankles locking against his skin.

"jesus, girl," he groans, his hips subtly stuttering in their pace in response to your actions. "y'er pullin' me in even deeper."

you open your mouth to apologize, or retort, or something, but it comes out as a slurred garble when you feel toji's fat cockhead brush against your cervix.

"uh huhh." he grins smugly, his hand that was interlaced with yours moving down to grip your hip and keep you in place as he quickens his pace slightly. he's being a little gentler than he usually would be just for you, but this is still toji here.

"t-too much!" you cry out, reaching up to grasp onto his bicep above you for some sort of support. your entire body is jolting against the covers in response to his increasingly hard thrusts, your mouth hanging open dumbly.

"nah, dollface," he grunts in protest, his fingers digging into the skin of your hip as if to ground you. "i know y'can take it. doing so damn well f'me."

toji brings his palm up from your hip to slide under your previously bunched up shirt, fondling your breasts and rolling one of your hardened nipples between his fingers.

this makes a loud mewl escape from your throat, your cunt clenching around him in response to the dual sensations. if you thought his tongue made you reach new heights of pleasure, his cock is a completely different beast.

you can already feel something strange stirring in the depths of your stomach. it's not like your previous orgasm, it's unfamiliar — it almost feels like you're about to pee.

"t-toji, feels weird," you slur out, squirming against the covers as you try to hold the rising sensation at bay. "like i'm gonna pee or something. m-maybe y'should pull out."

he barks out a laugh at this, as if he knows something you don't. his hand moves down to pat your stomach, right where the prominent bulge of his cock is moving in and out.

"that means you're gonna squirt, baby." he utters simply, making your eyes widen in surprise. now that's something you've definitely never managed to make yourself do before.

looks like you're gonna be ticking off more than one first from the list today.

"makin' ya squirt for y'er first time," he proclaims cockily, smirking to himself as he effortlessly keeps up the languid rolls of his hips. "i'm damn good, ain't i?"

"i haven't even squirted yet." you grumble, heat flooding to your cheeks in response to his teasing. he's still your annoyingly smug roommate, even when he's fucking you into his mattress.

"key word — yet." toji shrugs in response, his lethal thrusts quickening in pace. his rough palm pushes down right above your bulging tummy, causing you to let out a strangled gasp.

your cunt clenches impossibly tighter around him, your ankles digging into the skin of his back as you feel your second orgasm of the night start to wash over you. "fuck. g-gonna..."

"yeah? c'mon, baby, make a mess all on me." he grunts gruffly, his hand moving down to rub lazy, sloppy circles against your puffy clit, the nub pulsing under his touch.

"tojiiii!" you practically sob, the added stimulation sending you hurling over the edge before you can process it. your vision goes completely white with the intensity of your high, your breaths coming in heavy gasps.

"oh, thattt's it," he hums in satisfaction, lightly patting your pussy as he watches the gushes of clear liquid squirt out, lewdly coating the base of his cock and balls in your essence. "fuckin' good girl."

it only takes him a couple more strokes for toji to know he's close too, and he quickly pulls out, slapping his thick cock against the flushed skin of your tummy and giving it a few final jerks.

as much as he'd love to fill you up, he figures that since you're a virgin, you probably wouldn't be on birth control.

and he's not about take that risk.

toji lets out a low, raspy grunt as he spills his creamy, pearlescent cum all over your stomach, tainting the supple skin with his sticky, oozy mess.

he lazily tugs his boxers and sweatpants back up, wiping some sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand before leaning down and giving your cheek a quick, wet kiss.

then he saunters out of the room, leaving you panting and limp on his bed while he rifles through your purse on the living room table.

"i would've done that for free, by the way." toji mutters amusedly as he pulls out your credit card, waving it tauntingly in front of his face with the smuggest grin yet stretching at his lips. "see ya in thirty six hours, dollface."

© 2024 SUGOROO. please don't copy or translate any of my works without my explicit permission. all rights are reserved to me.

i’d like to dedicate my first proper fic to @screampied because her works inspired me to begin writing my own! <3

LIKES AND REBLOGS APPRECIATED!

[sunni-stuff]

P1 here.

Ghost walks through the door of your home as if he owns the place, tossing his keys onto the coffee table and shrugging off his gear by the door. He remembers your address by heart and recognizes the space he's walking through once again. 

Glancing around, he expected to see you greet him at the foyer only to be met with silence. Ghost passes by your couch, gloved fingers running against the back while his mind replays the sounds of your needy moans from when he fingered you on the cushions just weeks ago.

Ghost has had countless flings and meaningless one night stands, but never did he expect any of the doves he's played with to actively call for more. 

Though he wasn't complaining.

A creaking floorboard causes his head to snap towards the stairs. There, he sees you cautiously descending, the sides of your nightgown clutched anxiously in your palms. “I didn't think you'd actually show.” 

Simon stares at you, his eyes roaming over your form, taking in every dip and curve visible through the lacey material. He lets out a heavy breath, fist clenched in deep restraint as he thanked every single god above for what's standing in front of him. “How can I ignore a civilian in need?”

Your laugh makes him still, the mirthful chuckle and the smile on your lips making the tent in his pants ache painfully.

Did you know what you were doing to him? How just your chuckles alone stirred something profound?

“So… upstairs or on the couch?” You ask, breaking the silence.

“You wanted me here, love. Dealers' choice.” Simon watches you fumble, fingers thumbing over the lacing decorating the bottom of your nightgown.

“Upstairs then.”

For Simon, everything seems to happen in blurs. Just moments ago he was standing by the stairs and the next he's in between your legs, one large hand splayed over your stomach having you lay back motioning for you to relax as he eats you out like a man starved.

He doesn't remember how he got here; all that matters now is the taste of your cunt on his tongue. Simon laps at your glossy lips, tongue gliding your sensitive folds to your clit, making sure to give both his undivided attention. He needed no words to know he was doing a good job; your knees attempting to lock behind his head was added confirmation if your whines for more weren't enough.

“Can't you just put it in?” You huff in between moans, attempting to sit up on your elbows despite his efforts to keep you down.

“Shhh…” Simon coos, pressing a fleeting kiss on your pearl before pulling away his chin and lips shining your slick. “Look at that, practically begging for me.” A thick digit runs down your slit, gathering a pool of wetness and licking it off his fingers. 

Simon gazes at your cunt, observing how just his lips hovering near causes your weeping hole to clench around nothing. He could watch this all day. Watch how badly you needed him. How only he had the privilege to hear you beg.

“Alright, fussy bird,” He stands up straight, his shadow completely consuming you, the stark differences between you two are evident. Simon is not a small man in the slightest. Everything about him screams large. His presence commands attention, from his muscular arms down to his sturdy thighs.

Simon grabs ahold of your waist, pulling you against his bulge, slowly grinding his hips up and down, teasing you along the rough fabric of his jeans. He shows a little restraint, purposely holding back in hopes of hearing more pleas. “Come on, love, tell me what you need.”

This is what you dreamed of. His hands, his voice, his lips against your skin, a true dream come true. The final stretch was so close, so near and yet he still kept you tethered to the edge. “Please, I need it,” You mewl desperately, hips bucking for more friction.

Simon chuckles lightly, watching as you practically bounce in anticipation. "Someone's in a hurry," he jokes, despite his growing ardor matching your own.

With nimble fingers, he quickly unbuttons his jeans, sliding them down along with his boxers until he's bare to you. His eyes bore into yours as he did so, a silent question in them. His large cock sprang free, bobbing up against his stomach in time with his rapid heartbeat. 

The sight of his length, standing proud and erect, was enough to intensify the heat pooling in the pit of your stomach. Finally, you'd be full once again, getting to feel that cock of his in places no one else can reach. You nod all too eagerly, laying back to fully embrace everything.

With a swift lift of your hips, Simon nudges the edge of himself against you, drawing a ragged groan as he feels the wet heat of your waiting entrance. One hand grabbing his length, he slowly guided his throbbing cock against your slick folds. The head of his erection teased your entrance for a moment, before he pressed forward, burying himself inside you. “Fuck, fuck, more, please.” 

Simon can't help but smirk at your eagerness, patting your thigh appreciatively. “Can't rush things, dove. Don't want you breaking.” It's a slow push, his cock stretching your welcoming heat inch by inch. As he bottomed out, he let out a throaty groan, his fingers digging into your hips, anchoring you to him.

You cum in that exact moment, your pussy squeezing tightly around him and milking his cock. It feels like a faucet that won't stop dripping, coating his length with your sweet juices. For a brief moment you're dazed, head swimming and unable to hear anything over the sound of your heavy breathing.

“Fuck me,” he breathes, admiring the sight of you breathless. You feel like velvet, your pussy a vice he wasn’t sure he’d be able to quit. His thumb pushes against your clit and you whine, your voice high-pitched.

“Sensitive, please,” you beg, squirming until his hands force your hips down. Your lips are forced into an o shape, a silent scream forced from your chest when he does the exact opposite.

You’re not sure if you’re begging for him to stop or begging for more–it’s hard to tell when you’re being fucked within an inch of your life.

“Stay with me dove, stay with me,” Simon sneers, something depraved and feral in his voice. “Lemme make you feel good.”

Once the initial shock of cumming has passed, he begins to move inside you, setting a slow, deliberate pace. With every thrust, he claimed more of you, your bodies moving together in synchronicity. The scent of your sex mingled in the confined space of your bedroom, intensifying the intimate atmosphere.

Simon closes his eyes, wanting to savor the moment. Everything about this is mesmerizing. He'd rather be here than anywhere else in the world.

A hitched moan has him opening his eyes, his gaze boring into yours, wanting to see every flicker of pleasure that passes through you. Thank you, god, Simon thinks. He could feel himself teetering on the edge, but he held on, wanting to draw this pleasure out as long as possible. He wanted to give you everything and more.

“Feel like heaven,” he breathes. “Is this what you wanted? Wanted me nice and deep huh?”

His palm presses on your stomach where his cock bulges the skin, his grin wicked. “Poor girl, can’t make herself cum so she had to call me, yeah?”

You nod, a symphony of yes yes yes escaping you as Simon bears down upon you, the bed rocking with each movement.

“Had to call me because you know no one can fuck you like I can,” he says, “say it for me, c’mon.”

You hiccup through every word. “N-No one can fuck me—oh god—like you Si’—”

Your words make his ego grow, muttering of that's fuckin’ right streaming from his lips as he comes, the feeling sending your nerves on overdrive. 

As he felt you tightening around him, he knew you were close—as close as he was. His hand slipped between their bodies, his fingers finding your sensitive nub, applying just the right amount of pressure. He stroked in rhythm with his thrusts, chasing your orgasm with his.

Your pleasure peaked simultaneously, his cum filling you as you cum around him, walls clenching and rippling along his length in your aftershock. After a moment, he pulls out carefully, the room filled with your heavy breathing. 

Neither of you spoke for a while, simply staring back at each other through lust-filled eyes and flushed cheeks. Simon starts his retreat, stepping back to make distance and pulling up his pants. Your hand on his makes him pause. He raises a brow, confused by your actions. He opens his mouth but you're quicker.

“We aren't done.”

-

The original prompt was supposed to be a little thing; but so many people liked it, so here <3! This most likely won't be a series.

Taglist (ppl who commented): @pheebslu @amaraabbz @crestapex @tsarinamariya @kittykatgorl @havoc973 @gg-trini @coyotebayou @delta98-idk @thincess-reup @my-bright-legacy @jaxz21 @readersandtumblers

[gojosprettyprincess]

Jujutsu Kaisen Men + How they'd moan w/audios.

Tw - dirty talk, assplay in Suguru's, daddy kink in Nanami's, (Got a bit carried away in the geto one haha) also not proofread cause I got tired.

A/n this was requested so tysm to the person that requested it but a part of it is kinda a repost because I've already done something similar before but I hope you guys like it! Gojo, Geto, Toji, Choso, Nanami

Gojo Satoru

This is how Gojo sounds when he's close. (Ik this because he fucked me before so you can trust me on this)

He's very loud when he fucks you and he'd also whisper a lot of nasty shit to your ears while he's rutting his hips inside you, fucking you deeper into the bed while he has your legs over his shoulders, hissing and groaning at the way your tight cunt sucks him in so well, while your sinking your freshly manicured nails that he paid for into his back, decorating it with angry red marks and when he's close he'd be panting and breathing heavily on top of you, beads of sweat dripping from his forehead onto you from how much he's been fucking you.

"Fuckfuckfuck gonna fill you up so good baby, m'gonna stuff you so full of my cum, bet you'll like that yeah?".

Geto Suguru

This is how Suguru sounds while you're riding him in cowgirl position, he has a clear view of the way his cock slides into your soaked cunt every time you bounced on it, he just can't take his eyes off of it, the way your cunt would swallow his cock in and the way your ass jiggles every time you moved your hips, it was so hot. One thing that really caught his eye though was the way your asshole looked so neglected and desperate to be filled, he thought this would be the perfect opportunity to try something.

he spat on his right thumb, making sure to gets his spit all over it to use as lube before circling it around your hole, spreading his spit all around it then sinking his thumb slowly into the tight rim. He hisses as he felt how tight your ass was, clammed around his finger. He noticed how you started slowing down, and how your moans got so much louder, he lands a sharp slap on your ass. "Fuckkk sweetheart k-keep going, Fuck yeah, keep bouncing on my cock, yesss that's it, don't worry princess I'll make you feel s'good". He groans, feeling your cunt fluttering and cleaching around his cock.

He starts thumbing your ass, fucking his finger in and out of you matching your rhythm. "Holy fuck need you to cum, Be a good girl and cum f'me yeah?". He hisses, feeling you thrusting your hips faster and faster onto him, your brain gets all fuzzy and blank it was too much, both of your holes were getting stuffed and penetrated. You start feeling yourself getting closer and closer as you bounced yourself on top of him. "F-fuck sugu gonna cum, M'gonna cum!" you cried out. "Go ahead, cream on my cock baby you can do it fuckk", and that's all you needed to hear before you came undone, creaming all over his cock, rings of your nut appearing at the base of his cock, his thumb still buried in your ass to the hilt. He lets out a loud groan, looking at how your creamy cunt covered in cum. "Good fucking girl, see the mess you made on my cock baby?".

Toji Fushiguro

This is how he sounds when he's close, he doesn't really make that much noise while he's fucking you, maybe you'd earn a few groans and grunts once in a while because of your cunt but most of the time it's just dirty talk.

But when he's close, he gets so much louder and faster, he picks up his pace, hammering into you harder from behind while your face is buried into the pillow beneath you and landing harsh slaps onto the soft flesh of your ass while looking down to watch it jiggle everytime he thrust his hips against you. the sound of his cum filled balls that's waiting to be emptied inside your little cunny, slapping against your clit filling the room with each thrust along with your muffled moans. Your cunt was clamping around him like crazy because one thing about Toji, he always fucks you so good every damn time.

"Holy fucking shit, tight little cunt milking my cock so well, you gonna give me another kid baby or what?".

Choso Kamo

This is how he'd moan while you're on your knees sucking his cock and he's getting close; he'd be whimpering and moaning loudly while saying stuff like "pleasepleaseplease m'so close don't stop please" with tears prickling from his eyes while he's looking down at you. He begs you alot and he's also really sensitive so that makes him moan and whimper even more.

Nanami Kento

This is how he sounds when he's ramming his cock up into your poor messy cunny in his work office, purposely molding your tight hole into the shape of his thick girth as his large beefy hands gripping onto the back your thighs to hold your legs up into a full nelson-type positon but the difference is that he's sitting down and your back is leaning against his board chest.

His thrusts was hard and fast as he continues feeding your greedy tight cunt with his fat cock, loud pants and groans escaping his lips at the way your cunt tightens around his cock while he stretches you out. "Hah- oh fuckk such a good little slut, taking daddy's cock so well, s'good f'me baby". His deep and husky voice made you throbbing around his cock while he ruins you.

[kentopedia]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ LOOK, MOM! — nanami kento

yuuji accidentally calls you mom

contents: nanami x fem!reader, husband nanami hehe, this is very silly and random and stupid, fluff, nanami & reader are yuuji's adoptive parents fr, words: 1059

“nanamin!” yuuji waves at the figure approaching from behind you, a flashy grin appearing on his face as he glances at the blonde man over your shoulder. “i didn’t know you were coming by today!”

kento's hair sweeps over his forehead in the wind, a few strands coming free as he heads towards you. it's a brisk day, and he has two hot coffees in his hands that he'd picked up after his mission.

a bead of sweat drips down yuuji's temple, and he wipes it with his sleeve, still breathing heavily. you'd spent the last hour training together, pushing his physical capabilities. gojo had been busy recently, between all the missions and his conversations with the higher ups.

so, of course, you'd volunteered to teach the newest student when he couldn't. quickly, he became your favorite of the three first years.

“i’m in between assignments.” kento hands you the coffee, places a gentle hand on your lower back with a smile that is hardly there. “mind if i steal my wife away for a bit?”

yuuji shrugs, his face still bright as he glances between the two of you. ever since he’d found out two of his favorite sorcerers were together, he’d hardly shut up about it.

“no problem. i’m going to meet up with fushiguro anyway.” he brushes the dirt off his pants, waving to the two of you.

“good job today, yuuji!” grateful for something to warm you up in the chilly air, you take a sip of the coffee. it’s perfect, as always, just what you needed. “you’re improving a lot!”

he grins, proud of his accomplishments. “thanks, mom! see you later!”

there's an elongated moment of silence.

you choke on your coffee as kento stiffens beside you, watching while yuuji comes to a skittering halt.

all three of you freeze. you cough, clearing your throat, and kento's hand, steady on your back, has stilled. “yuuji—“

“oh,” the teenager says, his face turning bright red as he realizes what he’s called you. he glances between the two of you, embarrassment evident. “i’m so sorry. i didn’t mean to—“

though, you don’t give yuuji enough time to protest. within seconds, you’ve gathered him up in your arms, squeezing the younger boy to your chest. “kento, we have a son!”

you feel yuuji tense, before he relaxes, and throws his arms around you in an even tighter hug. there’s some sort of thanks resting there. he laughs, carefree, a sound you never want to be taken away from the boy who manages to shine so brightly in such a dark world.

kento stares at you, folds his glasses up in his pocket, as if to show you both how unimpressed he is. “do we?” he asks, lips flat, though, you see through the facade to the amusement hidden in his irises. “i'm certain i would’ve remembered something like that.”

you make a face at him, covering yuuji’s ears dramatically. “oh, don’t listen to your dad, yuuji. he’s old, he doesn’t know what he’s saying.”

kento blinks, and then sighs, wrinkling his nose. though, when he sees yuuji’s wide grin, his eager expression, he decides to play along.

“well, then... there must be a lapse in my memory." kento crosses his arms over his chest as he regards the two of your extensively, searching for something. "that would certainly explain the striking resemblance between us.” he says drily.

yuuji laughs, a loud snort. he looks nothing like either of you, but you’re not sure he’s ever gotten to witness kento's sarcastic sense of humor, the one that not everyone really gets.

“exactly!” yuuji quips back to kento’s blank expression. "everyone tells me i have the same smile as my dad!

kento’s trying hard not to let yuuji win that one, but you can see the slight wrinkle around his eye, the tiny quirk of his lips. beside the pink haired boy, you choke out a few giggles, covering your mouth.

“yes," kento nods, solemn. "i’ve heard that as well.”

"so you do know how to make jokes, nanamin!" yuuji shouts, nearly jumping in the air as he cheers. "i can't wait to tell fushiguro this."

kento rolls his eyes, but yuuji’s so pleased, and he releases you, his eyes soft and bright as he pulls away.

though he doesn’t say it, doesn't thank you for anything, you can tell he’s grateful. itadori yuuji may be happy with his life as it is now, may have found a home within the friends he’s made at the high school, but you know he misses his grandfather. sometimes, perhaps, he even longs for the conventional family he never really got to have.

you ruffle his hair, the pink strands catching between the cracks of your fingers. “tell him i said hello too.”

yuuji nods, stuffing his hands in his pocket as he steps away. “i will!” his cheerful gaze is pinned on your husband, a secretive smile making a home on his lips. “bye, dad.”

kento shakes his head, and sighs again, though you can tell, a part of him is touched to have won so much of yuuji's admiration. “have a good evening, itadori.”

you watch the young boy scurry away, hands in his pockets as he braces himself against the cold.

"you should be nicer to your son, kento."

kento snorts, throwing an arm over your shoulder as he brings you closer to him. "i am nice to him," he says, kissing your temple softly. "a little hard on him, maybe, but i just don't want anything bad to happen to him."

you soften, look up at him with warm eyes, and you squeeze the hand that is resting on your shoulder. "i know," you say, your heart clenching. you've thought about it before, thought of kento with a tiny child that looks just like him, cradled against his chest. thought of him with a little girl whose hair he can braid, a little boy he can raise to be a gentleman.

but you hadn't talked about it; you'd always thought your life was too busy, too dangerous for children.

"you'd make a good dad, ken," you say, your cheeks flushed as you grin at him.

kento's eyes flash. "really?" an array of emotions scurries across his features before he leans down, kissing you softly. "is this your way of telling me you want a baby, sweetheart?" his voice deepens as he whispers against your lips, smiling. "because i'm more than happy to give you one."

[sirsnortsalot]

girl WHAT was the hannibal s2 finale 😭😭

[ddejavvu]

this is depraved, but grinding on logan’s happy trail to get off 🫢

Hands Free - Logan Howlett x Reader

send me logan requests!

contents/warnings: smut, minors dni, mean!logan, drinking, don't like don't read.

You've caught Logan at a bad time. The surly mutant is a complicated man, and one with less psychological damage than him might be eager to whip it out whenever, but Logan isn't. He's busy brooding, and he's not to be interrupted when he's got a bottle in one hand and a cigar in the other.

But you need him. There's a pit in your belly that's only made worse by the scowl on his face, and your cunt aches beneath your now-slick panties for something to envelop. You're desperate for Logan to fuck you, but there's no way you'll convince him if he's not in the mood.

"I can feel you staring," He grumbles, eyes still cast to the floor as he takes another swig of burning liquor, "What do you want?"

There's no polite way to say you.

"Uhm," You shift on your feet, thighs clenched, "I'm just feeling- I'm a little, um, I-"

"Spit it out."

"I need you." You breathe, ashamed by the sentence, but Logan's face remains untouched, nothing moving but the lingering smoke from his smoldering cigar.

"I'm not in the mood." He grunts, like it isn't obvious.

"I- I know." You fall awkwardly silent again, rising onto your tiptoes and falling back to your heels. Up, down. Up, down. Up, down. Up-

"Don't make a mess." He shifts in the chair, lowering his hips until they're level with his abdomen, offering you the best seat in the house.

He's shirtless, which means that if you can't have his cock, or his fingers, you can get the next best thing. A combination of the friction from the waistband of his jeans, and his toned abs, blanketed with coarse, wiry hair.

You mount him eagerly, which isn't hard to do seeing as his chair has no arms. It's got a back so that he can lean against it, but your support system is his chest, where you firmly plant your hands in preparation to get yourself off.

There's a dark line of hair that trails from the bottom of his navel and disappears beneath his waistband, flanked on either side with a sharp line of muscle that tapers down towards his cock in a V. His body is a work of art, and you only wish his equally gorgeous face was pointed your direction.

No matter- you won't push. You're lucky he's letting you get off on his lap, you'll take what you can get.

"Easy," He grumbles, rocked by the sudden jerk of your hips. As you settle into a steady rhythm you realize you've already failed his one directive of not making a mess, but there's no way to stop or slow the steady stream of slick that's pouring from your weeping cunt. It's sobbing, slobbering, begging for a cock, but you drag it flush against Logan's abs and mat his happy trail down with your translucent arousal.

"One fuckin' job," He gripes, reaching down to swipe two fingers through the slick that's glistening on his stomach as you find better friction near the waistband of his jeans. The texture of the denim is rough, and you realize with giddy desperation that he's getting hard in his pants despite his insistence that he wasn't in the mood.

He sticks his fingers in his mouth for a taste, his cigar left behind in its ashtray on the side table. He doesn't relinquish the bottle, but he takes equal sips of that and of the mess you're making on his abs.

Finally, thanks to the sizeable bulge in Logan's jeans, you're able to hump your way to completion on his stomach. It's not hard, considering you'd been achingly horny before, but without something inside of you your release feels empty and wasted. You'd use your fingers if you could, but you can't move your hands or you'd faceplant on Logan's chest, and you don't want to invade his space any further in case he decides your privileges have been revoked.

"Poor thing." He murmurs when your hips slow and you're panting against his chest. You glance at his face but he's staring at your cunt, not at you, "She's so hungry."

It takes him one, two, three seconds to reach for his belt, "Well, c'mon. Up now, there y'go." As you shimmy up his abdomen, slicking his happy trail up with your release once more. As soon as he's able to free his cock he slides a hand under your ass, boosting you up so that you're finally able to sink down onto his red-tipped, leaking cock.

"Jesus, she's sucking me in," He grunts, his voice gruff and ragged, "How long were you waiting to ask me?"

"Too long." You whine, pussy already sensitive from your first orgasm, and now in utter bliss from finally being penetrated after all that teasing, "I- hnngh! My toys don't work anymore. They're- they're nothing like you, I can't use them. I can't ever finish."

Logan scoffs, still in a mood as sour as the liquor on his breath, but his hands find their place on your waist as he helps bounce you on his cock, "Shame. Those were supposed to keep you busy. Guess I'll have to do it then, hm?"

You nod vigorously against the crook of Logan's neck, your nose buried where his neck meets his shoulder, and where sweat accumulates sticky on his skin. You lick it up, and Logan hisses against the mouth of his bottle as he takes another swig.

"Fine." He grumbles, butting the bottle up to your head and forcing it against your lips, "Take this, take a nice big- there you go. That'll make you sleepy," He vows, and the head rush comes just like he'd warned. His hips begin shifting, circling slightly in gyrations that only add to the pleasure of bouncing on his dick, "And this'll knock you out, crazy."

[dawnwriterimagines]

Traitors Among Us

SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY x Fem!Reader Task Force 141 x Fem!Reader (Platonic)

PART 2

Part Three: The Guilty Plea

Part Four: The Verdict Due

Summary: You're a rat, a traitor. At least that's what Task Force 141 believes due to the evidence and claims scattered against you. It doesn't matter what you say, everyone's against you, ready to end you for it...until the truth comes out.

Warning(s): Torture, Heavy Angst, etc.

If you liked this would you Buy my a Coffee?

---

Drip.

Drip..

Drip...

Your shoulders seize up involuntarily as freezing droplets continue to hit your skin, eyes squeezed shut to try to ignore the sound that had been going on for who knows how long.

Another drop of water hits your spine from the faucet placed above you, it's cold as it runs down your bare skin. It feels like ice. Hitting the same spot over and over and over...

Drip...

Not even able to take a deep breath, you release a strained cry, it can hardly leave you, not that you hadn't cried enough already. You could feel the dried blood, tears and snot still on your face and a testament to your torment. You haven't been able to get the metallic taste of your blood of of your mouth since you got in here.

You breathe slowly, trying to relieve the pain in your chest. Body positioned downwards, chest pressed down to your knees, a leather buckle holds you down and over a metal stool. Wrists torn open by old shackles and stretched upwards to connect to the steel pipe in the middle of the room.

The stress position had been Johnny's idea, putting you in it to begin with. The bastard...

Kyle had been in and out to collaborate with Price on the interrogation, he didn't have the heart to do you any harm like his Captain. But, that didn't stop him from stomaching your screams as he turned the handle up, piercing cold crashing down atop you, it beats down on your back, by the time it's done your shaking, and your skin a bruising purple hue. It goes on like that for hours, even as you beg. He reads you the files again.

Price would then take the baton from the corner of the room, the side of your face already swollen from the last strike, you were seeing red out of your left eye and soon you wouldn't be able to see out of it if the swelling continued.

"Please..." you shivered, miserably.

"Over in a jiff, love, but i need somethin' from you, you know that." Was his reply, he tapped the baton against the metal below you, the reverb makes you jump each time, leaving you to stare at it as you watched his boots walk around you.

"Cap'n, It's not...It's not--me..." you tried, breathless. "I'd never.."

The steel baton came down on your shoulder, first. There was an immediate response from your constricted muscles, limbs that had all tensed up at once despite their numbness. Pulling at the shackles that kept you in place, the hit shocks you, nearly silencing you completely, it hurts, then it burns. Mouth open in a silent scream, you squeeze your eyes shut in an effort to block out the pain that crawled through your shoulder. "It's not me!"

You've been suffering from hypothermia for a few days since then. Your shoulder crushed right out of place or just plain broken, you weren't sure. It's not like you could feel much of your arms in this position.

It hurt. Not just the painful strain that this position was currently putting on your muscles, but everything else...

Of course, you've handled torture alike this before. Captured and tortured by enemies, ransomed for pay and fought tooth and nail to live, then found your way from that hell...only for the men who you'd kill for, to do the same thing to you with no remorse.

In the quiet of the empty room, you sobbed in agony. Squeezing your fists, but you couldn't even feel them, as far as you knew your fingers could only twitch in response to your demand.

You weren't sure what you were doing here.

Well, you knew. There was a mole, all evidence pointing to you, whatever it was had completely stunted their mission earlier in the week, left them hiding in a safe house for days until they were picked up by evac. Apparently, you'd leaked mission details to some hostiles over seas, you weren't sure which ones, they were hoping you could tell them. You had absolutely nothing, lost.

Of course, they didn't believe you. Although you expected to have at least a sliver of trust, someone to speak up against these claims and believe you...

It must've been too much to ask.

It came out of nowhere, at first you had been in bed with Simon, your fucking Fiancé, then that meeting with Price, then just...they'd cornered you in that room. Knocked you out without even an explanation, woke you up strapped down, confused, stripped of your uniform and feral as you demanded answers. Nobody listened to you.

That first night you thought you were gonna die. The second night you thought you had. The third night you were just convinced this was your hell.

You were soaked to the bone, and unable to stop shivering. The only sound you could hear was your own chattering teeth in this never-ending void of darkness.

It was so fucking dark in here, your eyes darting around to every corner, hoping for even a measly crack of light that your eyes could adjust to. Every sound, scratch, scrape or click made you jump, you couldn't see shit in here, so just about everything made you hyper aware. You couldn't help your anxiety as the sound of the faucet, the constant drops against your spine, the jingle of your shackles and the whimpers that echoed against the walls as you struggled to comfortably breathe. Maybe it was the thought of a mouse crawling up the stool and along your skin, or someone in here just staring at you in the corner, or the door finally opening for Price to start slicing into you demanding answers you didn't have.

You were on the cusp of losing your mind. If you hadn't already.

But it's been a few hours since then...

Maybe even a few days...

It could even have been a week.

You weren't too sure.

Simon had been the last one in here. He'd pulled the strap loose around your neck, hauling you up to an upright position by your jaw, eliciting a whimper from your lips. Able to breathe a bit easier, your lungs finally decompressing and you gulp down air greedily, "Simon..." this had been the first time you'd seen him since. He wears his balaclava, he is Ghost, not your Simon Riley.

As your bloodshot, swollen eyes raise to look into his cold ones, so unfeeling. You hadn't even realized you were so hopeful for his trust in you until then, looking at you like you were absolutely nothing to him, the same look he always had before pulling the trigger. "Simon, please, stop this..." your words slurred by your shivering, exhausted. "You know me...please."

Your tears slide over the leather of his gloved hands, while he holds tight to your face and cuts your pleads short with a painful squeeze. "Shut up," he says. His eyes are blank, but his voice is low and seething. "Shut the fuck up!" Simon harshly grits out to you, jostling you harshly. You squeeze your eyes shut, weeping miserably, throat closing up to your agony.

He had to know that you would've never done this to him. He should've known that. Given you the benefit of the doubt at least. You'd have never done this to him...

"I'm sorr-" you try, he squeezes harder to silence you swiftly, and snatches a tiny bowl off the tray he'd brought in. Raising your jaw a bit higher, he pours down a chunky broth into your mouth, letting it all just fall down to your throat. It's disgusting. He doesn't ease up for even a second as you toss and turn your head to breathe.

"Don't say a fucking word," he seethes, his hand enveloping your neck and keeping your head raised upward. "As if I should believe you..."

He then takes the next cup to do the same, your eyes bloodshot wide and you jerk away from him as you choke, unable to stomach anything, but he doesn't let you. This time you inhale accidentally, blocking your airway, eyes watering as you writhe for oxygen, your shackles clang violently as you attempt to retaliate, the first fight you've put up in days. His grip doesn't let up, even as you struggle and start to vomit up whatever he decided to shove down your throat.

When he finally lets go, you curve over and heave up whatever's left in your mouth, hyperventilating as you empty your guts on the floor. Hacking up whatever you can, it hurts, your throat burning from the sobs that leave you in between coughs. "If you love me, if you--ever had--" you spat at him. You'd given him everything, every part of yourself, nearly given him your life in the battlefield, and yet...it wasn't enough. "You would fucking believe me!" your voice cracks with the effort it takes to scream at him, to curse him to hell.

"My trust? That's what you want," Hollow eyes stare back at you, his attention flickering around to the uncomfortable shift of your shoulders in those cuffs. Your swollen left eye that had been hit so hard, the white of it had filled with blood. The black and blue littering your sides and your spine, the loss of color in your skin from the stress position and the cold that had you uncontrollably shivering. "You've had it before. You must've sold that to them too."

Your head drops to the stool again, releasing a heavy breath. "It wasn't worth much, if it was so easy to lose..."

Usually it's not very easy to set Simon off, you've known him always to be quite mellow, besides the barely concealed rage he had settled in his chest since you've known him. But, today, you were an exception.

Fisting a hand in your hair, Simon yanks at it, pulling you upwards for your to face him. His other hand coming up to wrap around your throat before your tortured scream can even manifest. In that moment, it feels as if he'd snapped your spine in half, having not used the muscles to stretch that area in over a week. Your shackled wrists shifting in the cruel position.

His eyes are wild and rageful, the balaclava that covers him twists just the same, his grip very telling to his violence as he squeezes down any chance at air or even a sentence. "Easy to lose..." he repeats, spitting in your face as he strangles you. "Easy t'lose your life! If you don't tell me the fucking truth," he pulls out the knife you'd seen him slit so many throats with before, you hear the familiar sound of it first then its cold steel pressing into the side of your ribs. "I'm gonna carve out your heart, and I'll take it real slow, let you feel every little thing I do to you in here," he shakes you harshly as a startled cry escapes you, your tears are burning hot against your cheeks. "You don't get to cry. Or whine. Or beg!"

"Stop--" you try to squirm away from him, to get as far away as possible, from this place, from this moment.

"Just tell me the truth," Simon's face twisted in agony, for just a second, his thumb drags along your jaw, meaningfully. "You'd be doing us both a favor..."

As his vast hand finally loosed around your neck just enough to hold you up, awaiting the bitter truth. Simon's knife catches on the protrusion of your ribs, nicking the skin, drawing blood on purpose. You stare up at the ceiling, the flickering old lights, the dripping faucet that's tormented your already fragile state for weeks now. "The truth..." you spoke, hoarsely. "You've all shown me...it doesn't matter to you. If it ever... Believe what you want--" you close your eyes, you're exhausted. Sleep had evaded you for days. "You and your truth and this team, you can all go to hell."

And finally he lets you go, letting your fall forwards, unable to find the relief of a cold floor but back to the strenuous position you'd been placed in. "AH!" nearly popping your shoulders out of place, or maybe they had, you bite down on your tongue, shaking in silence.

If you could see Simon's face, you could've relished in the uncertainty flickering in his eyes, the sudden doubt that led his knife back in its holder and his nails to bite into the flesh of his palms. He opens his mouth to say something, but nothing leaves him, instead he stands there.

You can't say a thing to him now, everything that's happened was just a little reminder that whatever you said, whatever you did, it didn't matter. Their minds had already been made. You really would die here.

Simon stands there a little longer, he doesn't say anything, you're not sure if he stays there to watch your suffering a little longer or to wait to say another heart-wrenching thing. Maybe he's just there to wait for you to die. But, he just watches as you wretch and cry in a ball atop that stool.

He leaves not long after, he didn't bother to strap you down this time. He left the old light on, but it must've been older than you thought.

The single bulb fizzled out completely hours ago. Not unless one of them decided to cut the silence and turn on the light to start another 'questioning', so suddenly being able to see more than darkness wasn't anything to be excited about.

They'd leave you in the dark until then, to await the next moment any of them would grace you with their presence.

To be honest, you'd imagined you'd be stronger than this. But, there was nothing to hold onto, so what did strength matter?

It was too late anyway.

They'd broken you days ago.

---

The truth had come out, two days later.

"Oh god..."

"Oh my fucking God," Simon rushed down the corridor, Price tailing right behind him. "Oh my God!" his normal monotone voice now a mess of fear and panic, breathing harsher, on the cusp of hyperventilating with every stride as he ran faster than he ever had in his life.

Finally getting to the interrogation wing of the department, he bangs his fist on the plexiglass of those silently monitoring the rooms, "Open the fucking door!" he's buzzed in before he can pull on the handle another time.

Rushing down the hall to the now green lit room, lights flickering to life with every step closer down the hall of empty rooms. He nearly rips the door off its hinges as he bursts inside, the lights of the your tiny prison don't come to life as they should. Light spilling into the cell, to hit your limp figure first.

He doesn't deserve to say your name. "(Y/n)," Simon rushes over, to his knees instantly. A puddle of vomit, water and spoiled broth soaks through his uniform.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry," he sobs out his mistakes, unhooking your chains and cutting through your buckles as fast as he could. "Oh my god, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry!" he catches his fiancé as you collapse, turning over and off the stool, your legs having lost all sense of feeling. You fall into his arms, catching you carefully. "Price!" he cries out, desperately.

"They're on the way!" Your captain assures, he sees the medical team rushing down the hallway, a stretcher, a box of medical supplies. Christ.

You're freezing to the touch, your skin a hue of blue, not to mention the bruises, the cuts and the swollen areas throughout your face and spine. You suddenly inhale, sharply, coughing terribly. You're sick, breathing shakily, "Simon...?" you breathe, confused. You can't see. Your eyes swollen shut from your torture at their hands.

"It's me, it's me," Simon assured, although he knew it probably brought you no comfort. He snatches the blanket offered up by Price, your captain a mess of himself, holding himself together at the doorway, nails biting into the steel.

As Simon wraps you in the first glimpse of warmth you've had in days, you ease up a bit, fingers twitching upwards to pull the threads closer around yourself. "It wasn't..." you shiver, Simon listens intently as he rises with you in his arms, running off to meet the medical team halfway. "It wasn't me..." you gasp out. "It wasn't..."

Simon can't say a thing as he hears your tormented voice stutter in fear of him, lips pressed tight together, heart sinking and as the nurses take your body, he collapses to his knees.

Part 2

[thriftedtchotchkes]

how do you sleep?

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: joel's always there to comfort you with his words and a warm bed after a nightmare, but tonight, you need a little more

warnings: 18+ MDNI, jackson era, soft!joel, comfort, undefined relationship, getting together, mentions of nightmares & insomnia, smut, unprotected piv, slow/intimate sex, creampie

word count: 3.3k

“Whas’wrong?”

You didn't mean to end up here again. It's the third night this week you swiped Joel's key from under the doormat and found yourself standing in his bedroom doorway.

"Can't sleep," you reply, barely above a whisper. Exhaustion seeps into your voice, permeating your limbs the longer you remain standing.

He already knows why you're here. Ever since you, Joel, and Ellie arrived in Jackson and were offered homes of your own, rest evades you more than it ever did on the road. It's too quiet here, and your racing mind fills the silence with the horrors of a life lived in constant fear.

You know you're safe now. You know that, but it's not enough to convince your body or quell the ever-present tightness in your chest telling you to run, to hide. Your fears are more potent in the dark, and the shadows creeping from wall to wall have sharper edges. Teeth that threaten to tear you apart and rip away everything and everyone you've fought so hard to protect.

The walls and floorboards creak with life that shouldn't be present in an empty, two-story home—too big for a single person, and yet still yours—and quickly begin to sound like impending death.

Nowadays, more often than not, you seek out a different kind of shelter. The familiar, comforting embrace of the man who kept you warm and protected through harsh winters and from monsters prowling in the night. That's where you belong.

Crisp bedsheets rustle in the dark and then you hear Joel pat the mattress twice—an invitation to occupy the space beside him, the one he always leaves empty just in case.

"Well, c'mon then. Hurry up," he grumbles, still half-asleep. But he isn’t frustrated. He's tired, just like you, and he'll probably sleep a lot better knowing both of his girls are resting soundly under his roof.

You trudge over and waste no time burying your face in his bare chest, breathing in pine and cedar wood shavings before exhaling a heavy sigh of relief. Throwing a leg over his thighs, you mold into him, rubbing your cheek into coarse curls and marveling at the calm, steady rhythm beneath you.

It feels good to be home. You're not sure why you let Maria give you an entire house to yourself when everything you could ever want or need was right across the street. Every time you end up back here, you wonder. And every time you leave, you wish you'd stayed.

He wraps you up in his arms and tugs you into his side, murmuring your name with soft lips that tenderly caress your forehead. They're so warm, just like the rest of him, and you find yourself aching to feel them on yours. It's a line neither of you have ever crossed, but tonight's been rough.

For what felt like days, you were forced to watch as your worst nightmares came to bloody fruition. You were dragged through the most brutal outcomes of events you already survived and could do nothing more than pray you'd wake up soon. When you finally came to and checked the clock, it had only been an hour and a half since you'd passed out. The moon was still high in the sky, taunting you with the promise of more. More dread, endless brutality.

Joel can make all of that go away, if only for a few hours. He always does, but tonight...you don't want to talk about it tonight. You don't want to think about it, about anything at all. You just want him.

You'd feel selfish asking for more if there wasn't already something between you. Something nurtured and gradual that's been building for months, beginning on your travels across the country and coming to an unignorable head here in Jackson.

Back then, it was stolen glances while you bathed together in streams and fleeting touches in your shared sleeping bag under star-filled skies. It's more intimate these days. He holds your hand when you're anxious, and you kiss away the frown lines and frustrated wrinkles that mar his skin.

Every day, you skirt the line between platonic companionship and whatever's starting to simmer below the surface. You're scared to hope he feels it too, but the thought of remaining in this undefined middle ground scares you even more.

The furnace drifting in and out of consciousness next to you radiates with an addictive heat you've told yourself to ignore for a long time, but it's quickly becoming an impossible feat. Pressed into his side, you're trying and failing not to writhe against him. But he's starting to notice.

His hips jerk every time your core drags against his bare thigh, a slow, repetitive grind you really shouldn't continue, but feels so fucking good combined with the slick pooling between your legs. You should stop—really, you should—but his breathing's changing and hitching, catching in his throat every time the growing tent in his boxers meets the friction of your inner thigh.

Then, he gasps something cognizant and urgent, and you know you've been caught. His hand snakes down to your ass and traps you against his side with a grip so firm, plush skin spills between his fingers.

“Woah, hold on there," he breathes out heavily, and his gaze drops to yours curiously. His eyes are wide open and alert, shining with the faint reflection of moonlight streaming through an adjacent window. Bright and yet pitch black as his sleep-addled brain struggles to catch up with his body. "What's goin' on with you tonight?"

You worry your bottom lip between your teeth, debating whether or not to ask for his help. His expression is gentle but otherwise unreadable, and there's a chance this could go very, very badly. Maybe you'd be better off apologizing, but you don't want to. You're not sorry for needing him.

And the longer he waits for an answer, the more his body convinces you that he wants the same things you do. His hand is still on your ass, kneading as he urges you to rock into him, but he doesn't seem to realize he's doing it. Then, his thigh flexes and a rush of wetness coats your already soaked underwear. His expression falters, and you know he can feel it.

His voice is tighter when he speaks again, but that tinge of concern is still there. He wants to make it all better, but he can't unless you tell him how. Your hand tenses where it lies on his chest, and he covers it with his own.

"What can I do? Just tell me how to help you—whatever it is, I'll do it," he murmurs, brushing his thumb reassuringly across your skin. You tilt your chin up and suddenly you're close enough to breathe his air. Closer than you've ever been and yet still not close enough.

"I need you to...," Fuck me. But it sounds too crude. A quick fuck isn't what you need right now. You need to be full of him, to hold him deep inside you and keep him there for as long as this night will allow. "...make me feel safe again."

"Tell me how," he repeats as you struggle to bite back a moan. He's working you against him intentionally now, encouraging you up and down his leg, and it's making your brain go a little haywire. "What do you need, baby?"

"Joel," you whine at the endearment, an intense heat building at the apex of your thighs. That's new. You want to hear him say it again, to devour every word as he buries himself inside you over and over. You will him to understand. "I need you."

He sucks in a harsh breath through his teeth, steeling himself before nosing into the hairs at your temple. The gesture is so tender and affectionate even as he bucks into your thigh, and it's painfully obvious how hard you're making him. He nods slowly and plants a soft kiss on your forehead, his chest rising and falling more rapidly than before.

"Okay, baby. I got you," he murmurs, his lips trailing down to your eyelids, then the apple of your cheek. "I'll make it all go away, alright? M'gonna take care of you."

And you believe him. He rolls you onto your back and you gasp as his entire weight presses you into the mattress. It's more than just comforting. You feel protected. He's shielding you from this horrible, broken world, somehow managing to prove that there's still goodness to be found. And it's on top of you, broad and strong, and wanting you just as badly as you want him.

Big hands cup your cheeks and his lips meet yours, so much different than the familiar press against your forehead or the top of your head. You're in unknown territory, but he guides you carefully and moves slowly, taking the time to explore and savor. The taste of spearmint begins to overwhelm your senses as the kiss deepens, and you lick into his mouth impatiently, already craving more.

But after years of quiet observation, Joel knows better than anyone how to temper you. Ducking down to bury his face in your neck, he kisses along the underside of your jaw, regaining control of the pace with a sharp, halting suck. And while he refuses to let your urgency rush him, he still allows your hands to roam his skin and tug at his boxers, letting you take what you want—like his only goal is to make sure this lasts long enough for him to fulfill his promise.

A disgruntled groan bubbles in your throat, and you feel him chuckle. "Y'know, patience is supposed to be a virtue," he mumbles, amused, his beard scratchy and grounding against your skin. You huff in response.

Tonight doesn't feel like a night for virtues. Not when things are finally changing in your favor. After so much time, so much running, you actually have somewhere to go—and stay. You're not running away anymore. You're moving towards something that feels real, and dependable, and safe, and you're doing it together. And now that you're so close you can taste it, you're done waiting.

"You're really gonna start caring about virtues now?" you ask skeptically, slipping your hands past the waistband of his boxers to grab his ass.

He hesitates, then huffs out a quiet laugh. "Fair enough."

And with that, you both know the time for talking is over. Something shifts and you're on the same page, ready to take as much as the other is willing to give.

Joel begins to drag your shirt up to reveal more, but suddenly feeling stifled, you take over and remove it completely. The look on his face makes it more than worth it. It's not the first time he's seen you naked, but as his eyes rake over your bare curves, it feels like it could be. Reverently, he returns his lips to yours, kissing you deeply before charting a path lower.

His mouth feels hot as he laves and nips across your collarbone, and he shimmies further down the bed until he's just barely ghosting the swell of your breasts. You gasp, burying your fingers in his hair as he sucks a bruise below your nipple and soothes the sting with his tongue. Licking a wide stripe past the darkening mark, he captures the bud between his teeth, another hand sliding up your stomach to cup your other breast while he alternates between swirling and sucking.

Your entire body feels like it's on fire. The ache between your thighs worsens the longer he continues, but instead of squeezing them together for relief, you wrap your legs around his waist and tug him onto you. By now, you're so wet, there's no way you're not soaking right through your underwear and into his boxers, and you hope he can feel it. If your increasing volume isn't enough of an indication that you need him inside you, then maybe this will be.

He lets out a pained groan into your chest, and you clench in satisfaction. He immediately grinds down, thrusting into you like he's forgotten about the layers of clothing still separating you. You don't bother to remind him.

Bucking him off, you quickly wrench down your underwear then reach for his, yanking them off while he sheds his t-shirt. Your fingers close around his cock before his shirt hits the floor and he startles before melting into your grip, eyes fluttering shut and lips parting around a cross between a sigh and the neediest whine you've ever heard.

You feel that telltale whoosh between your legs again, and after pumping him a few times, you guide him toward your entrance. In the back of your mind, you know you're taking a risk without a condom. You should be safer, more responsible. But it's Joel. It's always been Joel.

His eyes shoot open once he realizes where you're leading him, but you only bite your lip and nod, your expression uncharacteristically vulnerable. An unspoken agreement passes between you, a quiet understanding cultivated through years of friendship and now something more. Then, he presses inside and your mind goes blissfully blank.

No more horrors, no more fear. Just Joel keeping his promise and doing exactly what you trusted him to do. He encompasses you entirely, pressing the length of his body flush against yours as he works himself into you. The stretch was nothing you ever could've anticipated, but it grounds you in the present moment. It's everything you told yourself not to hope for when you showed up on his doorstep tonight.

His movements are slow but powerful, and he rests his forehead on yours, eyes alert and acutely aware of every change in expression. The intensity of his gaze and the slick sound of him burying himself to the hilt should make you self-conscious—it's all you can see and hear, but that's the point, isn't it? To get lost in the way he drags so perfectly against your walls and grinds his hips into yours on every thrust, slow and steady.

He's attentive, cataloging whenever he makes you moan a little louder or your eyes roll, and repeats it again and again until you're writhing underneath him. Your nails rake down his back and scratch at his scalp, and he jerks forward whenever you're a little too rough, hitting so deep, it feels like he's grazing your cervix. But the longer he continues to give you everything you want, the more his body trembles with the effort of holding himself back.

You know Joel, and you can tell when he's resisting an urge. His biceps tense where he's propped on his forearms, bracketing your head, and there's so little space between you, you can feel his abs flexing every time he plunges back inside you. He needs more and you want to give it to him.

Lifting your head, you bridge the tiny gap to meet his lips. "Joel, c'mon. You can fuck me harder than that, I'm not gonna break," you mumble between open-mouthed kisses. That catches him off guard.

He accidentally lets himself go for a thrust or two, and you're cut off by a moan, your walls squeezing him so hard, it's painful. Somehow, you manage to recover just long enough to gasp out the rest. "It's okay if you need something from me, too. Just take it. I trust you."

For an agonizing moment, Joel pauses to observe you, waiting for something in your eyes to contradict the permission you just gave him. But when he doesn't find it, he shakily exhales the breath he'd been holding and his head drops to your shoulder. The groan that follows rumbles so deeply in his chest, it makes your stomach drop. Then, without warning, his hands are gripping your thighs and he's rutting into you like a caged animal finally set free.

There he is. The man who never hesitated to gun down anyone who threatened the safety of his loved ones and did whatever it took to bring his girls home.

Recognition washes over you and fills you with a familiar feeling of security. It's something only Joel has ever been able to give you. You wrap your arms around his neck and bury your face into his hair, hoping to return even a fraction of that feeling.

As he gives into his body, he starts to ramble, his words muffled and lost to your delicate skin. But you don't need to hear him to know what he's saying. With every thrust, the bed frame rattles and gets the message across loud and clear. Your heels dig into his back, encouraging him forward, begging him to keep going, and he obliges, quickly reduced to helpless grunts and curses.

The room gets increasingly hotter and more humid, and the cool air flowing through the window isn't nearly enough to provide relief, but neither of you seems to care. You're a little in love with the way your bodies slip together, sweat and slick intermingling seamlessly.

Everything is so wet, and it feels incredible—your skin against his, your walls pulsing around his cock. He's molding into you, so close that you can't do much more than swivel your hips into his, and it's sending you hurtling toward the edge faster than you can fully process. The coarse hair at the base of his cock rubs your clit just right, and when he adjusts the angle to fuck you deeper than before, you hit your peak.

You dissolve into a whimpering mess beneath him, desperately riding out your orgasm as he groans and abruptly bites down on your shoulder. Releasing your legs to grab your waist, he forces himself impossibly further inside you and grinds into your spasming walls until he's coming with you. He gasps his way through it, stilling while he lets you milk him dry, then collapses on top of you and gathers you in his arms.

For a while, you both struggle to catch your breath. The mattress is bare save for the fitted sheet, your clothes, pillows, and blankets having been kicked or tossed onto the floor. It feels nice like this—to savor the winter air cooling your bodies and to just be held. Without letting you go, Joel lifts his head to kiss the teeth marks he left on your shoulder apologetically and then shifts higher to press his lips against the underside of your jaw.

"You alright?" he asks gently, his voice a little gruffer than usual from the exertion.

"Mhm," you hum, nosing into his temple. "More than." He sighs and almost sounds relieved.

The thought makes your heart ache. If he's worried he crossed a line, well. He did. You both did, but it was a long time coming and you don't regret a thing. You squeeze him a little tighter as if to tell him, and he allows himself to melt into you briefly. Then, he draws back to cup your cheek and guide your lips to his.

He kisses you slowly, taking the time to appreciate the sensation of your mouth against his without any urgency. "Feel better?" he murmurs after reluctantly parting from you. You keep him close.

"I don't think we have to worry about any more nightmares tonight," you reply with a small smile. He returns it, eyes crinkling fondly, then rolls you onto your sides to settle in for a good night's sleep.

As you start to drift off, you hear him chuckle and mutter something under his breath that you don't quite catch. But it sounds a lot like, "Might be time for you to finally move in."

thanks for reading!