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rowarn · 8 months

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okay i'm back to expand on toxic situationship simon vs smitten golden retriever könig fighting for ur attention!!!

when simon first met you, he had no intention of interacting with you let alone "dating" you. but it just kind of....happened. you had a way of worming your way into his thoughts and his life.

the problem was that he was not build for a relationship. he had problems. a lot of them. he wasn't the type to work on himself, he was the type to find distractions to cope with the mess that was in his head at all times.

the closer you tried to get to him, the further he pulled away. but then when you backed off, he remembered he needed you as a distraction. so he'd rein you back in only for the cycle to continue.

he ignored how much it hurt you, how sometimes your eyes would swim with tears when he gave you the cold shoulder and told you to leave him alone. it wasn't like you understood what was going on — simon refused to open up and tell you that he was just...fucking messy in the head. instead, he just let you think he was some sleazy douchebag who used you for a quick fuck only to toss to the curb when you annoyed him.

part of him wondered (but didn't care bc it benefited him) why you kept coming back after how much he hurt your feelings. but when he wasn't being an intentional jackass to get you to leave him alone for a week or two, he was a great guy. a gentleman. he spoke to you with a soft but not condescending tone and was patient even when you asked stupid questions. when he had you as his distraction, he enjoyed your company and you enjoyed his — only for him to turn around and spew vitriol out of left field.

it was during one of the times he had chased you off that you met könig. on an elevator of all things. the entire mechanical box shuddered with his weight and you were downright shocked as the hulking mass of him ducked to step in.

when you asked what floor, he spoke with a quiet, almost nervous tone to tell you. as you rode the elevator down, you couldn't help but notice how he sort of shrunk in on himself as if he was trying to take up as little space as possible — as if that was even possible. he was massive. he avoided your gaze in a way that was shy instead of suspicious.

it was kind of...cute.

when you both got off the elevator, the lobby, you took a deep breath and stopped him, asking as confidently as you could if you could have his number. his eyes had widened but he surprisingly didn't say no — jackpot!

tho you couldn't see all of his face — the bottom half of it covered by a mask and his large hood concealing his hair, you felt a bit of an attraction to him.

as you walked out, hastily typing his number into your phone as you parted ways, you realized you may have a thing for masked man since this man — könig, he had said with an accent, and the ass that was simon both wore masks.

in between the time of The Simon Cycle, you went on a couple dates with könig. he was charming and sweet, if not a little shy. he was clumsy and almost always bumped his head on doorways before shamefully rubbing the spot he bumped with a look of embarrassment in his eyes.

he was excitable and energetic. he loved animals and always pointed out whatever animals he saw while walking with you — people walking dogs, cats in windows, ducks floating on ponds.

the more time you spent with him, the more you forgot about simon.

until his name popped up on your phone one evening when you were spending an evening in with könig. it was nothing crazy, he wanted to watch his favorite horror movie with you (an ancient black and white).

könig caught sight of your frown as your phone rang, catching sight of the name 'simon' with a blank picture.

"who is this?" he had asked, tho it wasn't out of jealousy, just pure concern and interest.

you let out a sigh, "i dated him....sort of...? not really..." you had responded, earning a confused look from him.

you explained everything to him, from meeting simon all the through his on and off behavior. by the end könig looked upset on your behalf, shaking his head.

"if he cannot decide if he wants you, then he should leave you alone," he said softly, smiling under his mask with a crinkle of his eyes, "that way someone who knows that they want you can move in!"

that was one thing you liked about könig, he was actually open to communicate his thoughts and feelings with you. he told you were pretty, how he liked your laugh, how much he enjoyed your company and was excited to see you again when you both had time.

simon was closed off. he was quiet, mostly listening rather than talking. but he listened well. you remember mentioning that you broke your lamp and had bought a new one but couldn't figure out how to set it up. a week later, after a nice evening spent in bed together, you woke up to find him sitting on your living room floor putting together that lamp for you.

even though könig was...lovely. there was something about simon that was so intoxicating that you couldn't seem to let it go. but also the sex with simon was....spectacular. you never had a man so eager to make you cum until you were incoherent — never had a man who could.

and könig was....traditional. slow. he wanted to date for a long time before jumping into bed. he wanted to properly court you and go through a whole process. which you respected but...you were impatient. greedy.

it wasn't like könig was against you seeing simon. he had told you that you were free to do what you wished, but unless you made it official with the other man he was not going to back down from trying to court you.

so when simon called on you again a couple nights later, you answered.

he was glaring when he opened the door for you, motioning for you to enter before shutting and locking the door.

"why didn't you answer?" he grilled. clearly you ignoring his call when you were with könig annoyed him more than you thought.

you raised an eyebrow before slowly answering, "i was on a date, simon."

that seemed to make him freeze where he stood, eyes narrowing even more into a glare.

"a date?" he spat, "with who? you don't need to go on any dates, you're with me."

that made you roll your eyes so hard it nearly gave you a headache, "a nice guy named könig. simon, i'm not even sure you like me beyond wanting sex. i want a boyfriend." you huffed, "and clearly you don't want that!"

"oh yeah? then why are you here instead of with your boyfriend?" he hissed the last word in disgust.

"we're not official. he hasn't asked but we've been...seeing each other." you decided simply.

at that, simon jerked his mask over his mouth to kiss you in that heated way that made your legs tremble, "does he fuck you as good as i do? hm?"

that got your attention, a sly smile coming to your lips as he worked you out of your clothes.

he was jealous. this revelation was exhilarating to you. simon, the guy who acted like he couldn't care less about you, was actually jealous that you were seeing another guy!

the sex that night was as phenomenal as usual and more. he spent a good half of it with his head between your thighs, pinning you down with strength alone as he ate you to orgasm after orgasm until your cum was a sticky, stringy mess on his lips and chin.

then he worked you to two more orgasms on his cock, the last one he hadn't even needed to touch your clit before you were creaming around him with a sweet little squeal.

simon had a point to prove. you were his and he was not going to lose you to some asshole. deep down, he knew he didn't deserve you and that he should let the better man have you but he just couldn't. he needed you. he wanted you. he was selfish and greedy.

simon disappeared after that. but for once had actually communicated what was going on — deployment, he said. didn't know how long he would be gone. he had actually gave you a goodbye kiss that left you spinning.

the next time you saw simon, you were on a date with könig. it was a quaint little bar that könig said he liked. so there you were, sitting across from him at a booth, nursing a drink and softly talking with one another.

you didn't even know simon was back. he hadn't said anything. when he walked into the bar, his eyes scanned the place like they always did before landing on you.

his gaze lit up as he took a step towards you but quickly halted when he saw you were sitting across from another man. but that didn't stop him for long.

you cursed under your breath, catching könig's attention before simon was right there at the end of the table, glaring at könig.

"can we help you...?" könig asked softly, clearly a little nervous.

"hi...simon..." you sighed softly. könig straightened up in his seat at that.

"official yet?" he asked you, ignoring your greeting.

you gritted your teeth, casting a glance towards könig who looked confused.

"no." you answered simply.

with that simon, yanked a chair from a nearby table and sat right at the end of your table. you concealed a groan of despair.

simons glare fixed upon könig, a challenge clear in his stare alone. he reached forward and grabbed your drink from your hand despite your protest, lifting his mask enough to take a sip, the cocky smirk visible briefly on his lips.

könig quickly understood what was going on and his own eyes narrowed into a glare. you could practically see the sparks going off between them and buried your face in your hands.

it was going to be....a painfully long night, you feared.

#simon ghost riley x reader #könig x reader #konig x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley smut #simon riley smut #ghost smut #cod smut #könig smut #konig smut #cod x reader

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chrollohearttags · 4 months

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random firefighter!ace headcanons (while I finish this fic!)

warnings: nothing too bad! some fluffiness and silly!ace, a few nsfw things under the cut, alcohol mentions, food mentions

firefighter!ace is surprisingly a neat freak. At least around the firehouse..he does weekly inspections and is very meticulous about how the equipment is stored. He has his own little system and everything. (his apartment is another story though!)

firefighter!ace thinks he is the appointed cook in the firehouse. Mans throws down in the kitchen and will make enough to feed an army. (he’s half Filipino in my head idc idc) so he cooks a lot of Asian fusion dishes, recipes passed down from his mom and family and yes, he insists on making them for (y/n) too on ‘date’ nights.

firefighter!ace is a CLOWN and a half. He keeps everybody in high spirits, especially after a rough call. Dancing, playing music, cracking jokes, playing cards..he will never let his team stay down for too long! (hc that he loves Bad Bunny, J Balvin and a lil bit of dancehall 🤭.) went to the club with (y/n) once and you were shocked when you started whining on him and he knew what to do with it!

firefighter!ace keeps teddy bears and dolls in the fire truck in case there are children at the scene and he always rushes to comfort them.

firefighter!ace spends his days off hiking, camping, running and doing a bunch of nature-centric activities. He loves the outdoors and wants to share that passion with you! He gets sooo excited when you agree to go on a hike with him up to this canyon he’s trekked a few times, surprised when you beat him up there. “You’re really good at this, rookie. You can run more than your mouth.” “Nah, I just wanted to kick your ass, that’s all.”

firefighter!ace is an animal lover. He has two cats and the firehouse dog is his literal son. He pets random animals whilst out at the park and will come over to your apartment just to ignore you and play with your kittens! “Anyways, I’m not here for you. I came to see my daughter, thank you.” 😭

firefighter!ace is the life of the party and that even gets worse when he drinks. He can handle his liquor pretty well so he doesn’t fall all over the place but he is way too lively when he’s drunk!

firefighter!ace does have a bit of a fashion game. He and his brother are sneaker heads and collect them so his closet is filled with all sorts of shoes. He has more a rustic, indie/hippy aesthetic but he dresses really nice when he needs to.

firefighter!ace loves the idea of sneaking around the firehouse with you. Getting in quickies with the very little free time and privacy you have. Covering your mouth as he gets you up against the wall in the bunks. “C’mon, rookie. We only have a few minutes, don’t get us caught.”

firefighter!ace is a back kisser, neck licker and suck toes. He’s so attentive and loving when you guys do get your alone time. Especially when you’ve had an attitude all week and he knows what you need. He will give you the slowest strokes while looking deep in your eyes and prone bone because he doesn’t want you doing any of the work. “Is this what you wanted, baby? Needed me stretch you out? Should’ve just said that from the beginning.”

firefighter!ace lovesssss showering together. Not just for the sexual aspect but the intimacy of it. Touching and feeling every inch of your skin, kissing you real slow underneath falling water and holding your face. Seeing your skin all lathered up in soap and just admiring every inch of your body. “You’re so soft..I love it.”

firefighter!ace gets so intense and passionate, becoming a little possessive..fucking you like it’s the last time after extremely dangerous calls. If there was an instant where your life has been in danger or he was scared of losing you, he all but puts you through the mattress, making you whimper and claw at the sheets as you scream his name. He cries into your neck/shoulder, just confessing his feelings. “You’re mine..you got that? Don’t you ever scare me again.”

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chaepink · 8 months

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SUB!TOJI FAILING TO DOM HIS GF PLS

Cat's got your tongue? | sub!toji fushiguro

wc: 2.2k+ words | masterlist

dom!fem!reader, brat!toji, marking/biting, pegging, begging, degradation, overstimulation, fingering (m receiving), slight spanking, brat taming, slight choking, fucking toji dumb

note : i hate to admit how hot this man is

"what are you doing?"

You eye the man in front of you who's been acting weird all day. While he's usually a big brat, he's been even more bratty all day yesterday and today, talking back to you and acting stubborn when you tell him to do basic things and now ignoring you when you just asked him a question.

It's gotten on your nerves but you brush it off as something that won't last long. But now as he takes off his shirt to expose his chest to you—you have to force yourself to look away from his nipples—and begins to crawl towards you on the bed, you're wondering if he has something up his sleeve.

You lay your back on the bed's headboard and put the book that you were previously reading onto the bedside table.

He makes his way in front of you and leans his face closer to yours, a smirk on him.

"how about you just a good girl for me and strip and get on all fours, hm?" You cringe slightly at his words but realization soon dawns on you on what he's trying to do.

You sigh at his antics and you see Toji falter a little at your lack of eagerness to do what he just told you. You cross your arms at him and look at him unimpressed.

"I'm going to ask you again. What do you think you're doing?" Again, you're met with silence but Toji recomposes himself quickly. He glares at you but you notice that the glare lacks any real threat.

"do what I say and don't be a brat-"

You quickly sit up and yank his hair back, narrowing your eyes at the man. Your action makes Toji let out a choked whimper as he looks at you with widened eyes. You're no longer annoyed, you're fucking pissed as you look at him with fury in your eyes. Fuck, he's in big trouble now.

"how about you don't be a brat, huh?" Venom is laced in your tone and Toji has to hold back a shiver. "You think I haven't noticed your weird antics lately? And now you try to dominate me?" You scoff, the grip you have on his hair tightening, making him hiss at the slight pain. He tries to leave your grasp but your hand stays right there in his hair.

"as if you could ever do that. You're a fucking slut whose head turns to mush whenever they get fucked in the ass!" You let out a chuckle, looking at the bulge on his pants.

"And now you're hard. What else can I expect from a whore, hm?" Toji widens his eyes and gulps, he didn't even notice himself getting hard. His plan is falling apart right in front of you miserably.

He looks you in the eyes and shivers at the lack of humor within. You're really angry this time. The annoyance and lack of patience in you has you wanting to punish him until he's crying for you to stop.

"back away and sit in front of me right now." Toji listens to you immediately, knowing he went too far in trying to be a brat. He backs away from you and does what you told him to do, sitting in front of you with his legs together and his hands on his bulge to try to hide it even when you've already seen it. It's pathetic, really.

His breath hitches in his throat when you crawl closer to him, licking your lips at the delicious sight of your boyfriend in front of you, half naked with an obvious tent in his pants. You spread his legs apart with ease. It's not like Toji was really trying that hard to hide it from you anyways.

"What's wrong, baby?" The sweet pet name is ironic, considering the way you're looking at him right now is anything but sweet. You're looking at him as if he was your prey with hunger in your eyes and Toji certainly feels one like when he looks at you.

"Cat's got your tongue, toji?" You tilt your head at him, almost mockingly. "You can't think straight when all that's in your head right now is the fact that you're hard, right?"

You tsk, moving in front of him to whisper in his ear. One of your hands goes to grab at his bulge.

"fucking slut."

You harshly bite the top of his ear with one of your canines. The metallic taste of blood floods your taste buds as your tongue laps at the excess blood coming from the mark.

Toji lets out a choked gasp that soon turns into a moan when the pain turns into pleasure. You make your way down to his jaw and to his neck, leaving kisses and bite marks while you're at it.

"Now what was that little act of yours earlier? Trying to take control of me, hm?" Toji gulps as he stares at the wall in front of him. Two choices cloud his head, either he continues being a brat and denies his earlier actions or he caves in and listens to you.

No matter how much the brattier side of him tells him to do the former, he's not that stupid to anger your further.

"i-im sorry, [name]." You pull back from his neck, licking your lips at the taste of his blood still in your mouth. You raise an eyebrow at him, clearly still unimpressed.

"Sorry?" You chuckle, darkly. "Oh, you're anything but sorry, darling. I know it."

You eye his exposed chest and your hands teasingly ghost over his nipples, grinning when Toji lets out a whine.

"How are you supposed to be the one dominating me when you're already a mess when I've barely touched you?"

You prove your point by pinching a nipple, grinning when Toji lets out a choked moan. He tries to muffle his noises using his hands but you quickly push them away, giving him a glare to warn him not to silence his noises.

"A part of me wants to just leave you here for you to take care of your problem yourself but I want to do something else instead." You get off the bed and go to your dresser, trying to find the exact item you're looking for. Toji gulps at the first part of your sentence. He would hate it if you left him alone to masturbate by himself.

"When I turn around I better see you naked and on the bed on all fours." You hear some ruffling behind you as you quickly put on your strap, tightening enough so that it feels secure on you. You take off your clothes and leave your undergarments on.

And when you turn around, you see Toji naked and on all fours, his head turned to look at you with awaiting eyes, eagerness clearly in them. His hard dick lays hovering over the bed and you swear you can see him slightly rocking forward to fuck himself against the surface. What a slut.

You give him a small smile. "Looks like you're finally able to follow my instructions properly."

You grab a bottle of lube and make your way towards him. You grab his ass unexpectedly which makes Toji let out a gasp. Squeezing it, you spread his ass apart to reveal his twitching hole.

Weirdly enough, it looks as if it's already been prepped. You look at Toji who quickly blushes and looks away from you.

"You already prepped cause you knew I would be punishing you today, huh?" You see him nod nervously and you slap his ass, watching in content as it turns red, a handprint appearing on it. Toji gasps and whines at you.

"Words, darling."

"Y-Yes... i did it this morning" You hum at his answer. "Let's see if you prepped yourself properly then." You then insert a finger into his hole, making Toji grunt at the intrusion.

You pump the finger in and out, feeling the lube that he recently used still inside. You add another finger to which Toji lets out a moan. You feel him rocking back against your fingers slightly and you place a hand on his back to stop him.

You try to find a specific spot inside him and you know you found it when you curl your fingers, making him let out an embarrassingly loud moan. You add another finger inside. He's already falling apart from your fingers only.

"ah! shit- j-just fucking fuck me already!" He gives you a quick glare. You tut at his behavior.

"Still ordering me around? You should learn by now that I'm the one who gives the orders around here, baby." You curl your fingers once more before pulling them out with a grin. "Well, I guess you're ready."

You grab his hips and line up your strap to his hole, watching it squeeze around nothing.

"Your annoying actions today have riled me up which makes me not want to go easy on you today." Toji lets out a small 'please' to which you pause.

"Please what, Toji?" He looks at you with a flushed face and pleading eyes. The sight makes something in your stomach burn with desire.

"Please don't go easy on me." Toji watches as your eyes turn dark with lust and you immediately plunge your strap into him, quickly making the pace into one that's quick and rough. He lets out a groan.

"f-fuck me!"

You chuckle. "Oh, but that's exactly what I'm doing, darling, fucking you."

His face falls onto his pillow to muffle his screams of pleasure. Each thrust of yours has the bed shaking underneath and you would feel bad for your neighbors if it wasn't for the pretty sight in front of you.

His body is flushed and sweating as all he can do it lay there for your use. His ass is still red from your slap and you have the urge to paint it red with handprints. You spread his ass to watch as his hole greedily sucks in your strap, taking it all as you brutally plunge in and out, not giving him any time to get used to the large size you chose.

Your thrusts, while quick and rough, are deep as well. So deep that it's hitting all the right spots inside Toji and he swears he can feel you in his stomach. You try aiming your strap to the specific spot you found early and find yourself successful when Toji screams into the pillow, his dick shooting out his cum onto the sheets below him without warning.

But you don't stop. And when Toji realizes that, he turns to you with widened eyes only to quickly throw his head back with a loud cry. You eye the way his throat is exposed and you lean forward against his back to grab the sides, giving it a squeeze.

Toji moans as his head goes lightheaded at the lack of oxygen. When you lighten your grip, he feels his head spins as he breathes in the air greedily, letting out gasps and whines.

"N-No more, please!" His eyes roll back and you swear you've fucked him stupid. All he can do is babble out pleas as you continue fucking him dumb. He doesn't even realize that he just came again, his cum dirtying the sheets once more. What a shame, you just washed it yesterday too!

"No more? But you're hard again Toji!" You eye his dick that, even though he just came mere seconds ago, begins to become hard again. He looks down at his dick dumbly with dazed eyes and notices the mess he made underneath his dick.

His legs are quivering from the intense thrusts and he feels his thighs about to give out on him but he feels your arm wrap around his waist to keep him upright.

"See how good I'm fucking you, Toji? You could never do this to me." Your hand goes to his stomach to press on the bulge there, making Toji cry out from the pleasure.

"s-so d-deep."

"Are you even listening to me? Or are you too cockdrunk off my strap to even think properly?" Another thrust from you makes Toji moan loudly.

You tsk at him. "If only you could be a good boy for me, Toji. Then I wouldn't have to punish you like this." You're met with loud whimpers and moans from the man who, if you weren't the one fucking him right now, looks as if you would find him in a lewd porn video with all the noises and facial expressions he's making.

"Well it's not like you're not enjoying this punishment of yours, it's clear that you are." You feel Toji trying to grind back into you, chasing the pleasure.

Every whimper and whine he lets out just let you know how absolutely needy he is. How he absolutely wants you to destroy him until all he can think about is the way your strap is hitting deep inside him, milking his cock with every release you give him.

To see the usually stoic, serious man a mess underneath you as he lets out those delicious noises is something you never thought would happen. But oh are you glad that it did.

Toji cums for the third time that night with a scream, his dick releasing less cum from his previous orgasms.

"Too bad though." You grin devilishly at him even though he's not looking at you or is even bothering to hear what you're saying anymore, too dumbed down by the pleasure. "Since I'll be fucking you until you won't be able to walk tomorrow.

ty for reading to the end! ❤ - chaepink

╰┈➤ masterlist | rules

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3lyvshiro · 9 months

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𐙚 ⋆₊˚ 10:31 ..ᐟ

˗ˏˋ୧ —pairing: Suna Rintaro x f!reader

˗ˏˋ୧ genre: fluff, suggestive,

—warnings: mentions of tits, ass, and thighs

𐙚 —Synopsis: your bf comes home tired so he strips infront of you and shoves his head on yo chest.

"Bad day?" you asked half heartedly, leaning your weight onto the headboard by your shared bed, your eyes on the book you were currently immersed in.

you could see Suna coming into the room from your peripheral view, and even you could tell he looked like his life got sucked out of him. From the way his shoulders sagged more than usual, and how he didnt greet you with a kiss yet like he usually would.

Rintaro was tired. he had a shitty day at work. everything was too bright, everyone was too loud, nothing went his way, his blocks were so noticeably sluggish today that his coach had to ask him to go home early. Rin was not having it. He was exhausted. All he wanted to do was come home to you and recieve your affection and comfort. he had priorities.

"Youre home early." You mumbled, trying again.

At his lack of answer you glanced up at him dryly only for you to do a double take, looking up from your book as you watched him take off his shirt. woah.

You bookmark your page before placing your book down the table next to your big bed, but before your boyfriend could take a step to you and get your affections,

He felt himself have to physically pause as you let out a low whistle the moment he lifted his shirt off. You couldnt resist the temptation to tease him, plus, you couldnt take your eyes off his abs and toned upper body the moment he flat out stripped.

"bad day?" you questioned, once more, testing the waters.

At your playful grin, he ignored you with a tired look before slumping in bed with you, curling next to you as he blatantly layed his head down on your chest unannounced.

"Mm" Rin let out groggily, his first instinct stuffing his face on his girls chest.

You were surprised by his sudden action, without any hesitation too. Not that you minded. it was actually really cute the way rin was nuzzling onto your chest. he reminded you of a cat. a big.. 6'3.. cat...

You didnt mind at all. it's just that knowing Rin.... He honestly wouldve just groped you on the spot.

Your boyfriend has absolutely zero shame. none at all. not even in public. in fact he would publicly grope you. wherever, whenever. doesnt matter if its your chest, ass, thighs, he cannot keep his hands to himself if it would save him. You half expected him to curl into a ball on your side, rest his head on your shoulder and start squishing your chest with his big calloused hands but you assume he was just too tired to joke around like that right now, and all he needed was a relief and some love from his girl. His comfort, His home, His love, the person he can come home to everyday knowing she'd be waiting right there to welcome him in her arms.

You placed your hand on your boyfriends head and started playing with his soft locks, cooing at him at how adorable he was acting right now. Usually, if it were any other time, Rin would've rolled his eyes at you, maybe add in a sassy remark, but not right now. right now, he just wanted to bask in your love and affection.

Feeling Rins arms wrap around your waist, you gently clawed your nails at his broad back, humming at the way he buried his face even deeper on your chest, if that was possible.

As you had one hand buried in his hair and the other on his back, you slowly glided your nails up his shoulder blades, not hard enough to leave scratch marks like when..when you two are doing certain activities... but just enough for him to sigh in the relief you were giving him right now.

You subtly moved your nails to claw at his back once again, barely reaching the middle when you heard him groan in satisfaction and contentment in the semi-massage, and attention his girlfriend was giving him.

A smile graced your face shortly after you heard his voice. theres my rin.

With slow movements, you moved your hand down to massage his neck. Rintaro sighed, thanking the gods for whatever thing hes done to deserve you.

He doesn't know what he did at all, but it must've been damn fucking good just for him to score a person like you. He must have been an angel whos done not a single bad deed, he thinks. i mean its only rational, considering how you came into his life and changed everything. hes convinced he did no wrong, commited no sins at all.

Rin shakes his head, dismissing the thought as he felt your nails dig onto a good spot. he let out a low sigh as your thumb gently rubbed over his neck. you took the short strands of hair framing his face, then tucked some behind his ear. Much like what he would do to fluster you. This time though, you could feel him smiling through the way he hummed and nuzzled his head further on your chest. rin loved being babied by you.

You had a soft look on your face too, watching him act like this, it really does do an effect on you.

you leaned down and kissed his temple, whispering your love to him and nothing but sweetness.

it didnt take long before your eyes met his soft gaze after a few seconds. you see him lift his head, and despite his eyes being the only thing you could see, you still caught that furious blush that adorned his face, no matter how he had tried to hide it with shoving his face deeper onto your chest, your could still see the red spreading onto his ears as you giggled at him.

After your giggles died down, and his struggling came to a halt,

".. i love you. Thank you for loving me." you heard rin whisper, voice muffled.

LMAOOOOO SORRY FOR THE SYNOPSIS IT MIGHTVE BEEN A WEE BIT MISLEADING 🤓

#suna rintarou #suna rintaro x reader #suna rintaro x y/n #suna rintaro haikyuu #suna rintaro fluff #suna rintarō #suna rintaro x you #haikyuu suna #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu x reader #suna rintaro headcanons #haikyuu x female reader #haikyuu fluff #inarizaki #inarizaki x reader #suna rintaro imagine #haikyuu imagines

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mercurygguk · 1 year

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freaky deaky · jjk (m)

⤷ summary; being a worldwide superstar can be overwhelming at times – luckily he has you to help him get his frustrations out.

pairing; idol!jungkook x f. reader

rating; 18+

word count; 4.7k

genre/au; fwb au / idol au, smut/angsty and fluff if you squint

warnings; making out, swearing, fingering, oral (f. receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, multiple orgasms, nipple play, slight choking, aftercare <3

author’s note; been wanting to write something like this for a while so here you go – i hope you like it !! slightly inspired by ‘freaky deaky’ by tyga & doja cat

ps. ignore my typos, i was speed writing this kskdls

let me know what you think – don’t be a silent reader, thanks <3

Jungkook is well aware that he should be heading home, get into bed and sleep for a whole day. He has barely slept for a whole week, the nerves and excitement for his upcoming concert too overwhelming. It was simply impossible to calm down enough to fall asleep.

However, he’s headed in the opposite direction of his own penthouse apartment. Instead of his own home, he finds himself in a quieter part of the city, the buildings in this area much smaller than the skyscraper he lives in himself. It's past midnight, a few houses are still lit up but it seems most people have turned in for the night.

There’s a yellow hue in the window on the second floor of the small house he pulls up to. The roaring of his bike is loud in this part of town late at night but he can’t bring himself to care about anyone else – there’s only one person on his mind as he turns off his motorbike.

As he gets off his bike, he glances around him to see if there’s anyone who might spot him; a scandal with the media isn’t what he needs right now. When the coast is clear, he removes his helmet and makes his way to the front door, knocking on it a few times. His teeth are chewing his bottom lip as he waits in silence, staring at his feet while listening for the sounds of footsteps on the other side.

Half a minute later, the door opens. He looks up from his stomper boots, the most beautiful eyes he’s ever seen meeting his. There’s a possible chance he just felt his heart skip a beat at the sight.

You smile at him, opening the door wider for him, silently inviting him inside.

His eyes never leave yours as he steps inside, closing the door behind him and locking it. You’re wearing your pajamas – a flimsy top that doesn’t do much to cover your bare breasts underneath and loose, small shorts paired with a pair of fuzzy socks to keep your feet warm. You watch him with impatient eyes as he puts his helmet down, kicks off his stompers and unzips his biker jacket. He’s impatient too, too impatient to even greet you. Instead he opts for the next best thing; kissing you.

A soft whimper leaves you the moment his mouth connects with yours, the sound going straight to Jungkook’s cock, blood rushing to the tip. The kisses are eager, hungry and rushed, probably bruising too. He pushes you backwards, pinning you against the wall. Goosebumps rise upon his skin as your hands slide into his black strands of hair, your hips buck against him. A low groan escapes his lips as his hands roam your body, sliding over your curves and underneath your flimsy pajamas top.

The sounds of moans and whimpers tumbles from your mouth as his mouth moves from your lips to your jaw and further on to your neck, open-mouthed kisses being left against your skin. His hands cup your breasts underneath your top, thumbs brushing over your already hardened nipples.

“How was the show?” You breathlessly ask him.

“Not important right now,” he manages to say between the kisses he’s showering you with. “Just need you.”

You whimper at his words as he bends to pick you up, wrapping your legs around his waist, hands on your ass to support you. His mouth returns to yours, tongues meeting with wet, lewd sounds as he makes his way upstairs with you in his arms. He knows the path to your bedroom too well at this point – it might be a sign that he’s at your place way too often but he can’t find it in him to care or contemplate what that might mean.

“Feels like I’ve been waiting forever for you to get here,” you admit as you enter your bedroom.

Jungkook grins against your mouth, a soft chuckle leaving him as he puts you down on your bed. You watch as he stays by the edge of the bed, looking at you with those big, dark eyes that hold the galaxy in them. Goosebumps rise in the wake of his hands as he slides them from the top of your thighs and down to your knees, giving them a soft squeeze. He fixes you with a slight smirk, a playful glint in his eyes.

“You missed me that much?”

Flustered, you groan softly and avert your eyes to the ceiling. Jungkook can’t help but laugh at your reaction to his teasing question, getting rid of his biker jacket and t-shirt before crawling onto the bed, hovering over you. He gently grabs your chin, forcing you to look at him again. You’re glaring at him, a soft glare that makes his heart tingle in ways he didn’t know it could.

“Don’t worry, baby,” he quietly tells you, “I missed you too.”

The words leave him before he can think about the meaning behind them. He barely catches the way your face softens at his confession as he dips down and connects his lips to yours again, slipping his tongue past them to intertwine it with yours. You moan against his mouth, arms sliding around his neck to pull him down, as close to you as possible.

“Kook,” you moan his name against his lips as you feel one of his hands slipping between your legs, fingers pushing the flimsy fabric of your shorts to the side. His fingers touch your wet core instantly, your arousal coating his fingers. He groans against your mouth when he realizes you’re not wearing panties. “Please–”

“No panties, huh?” He muses, lifting his head just enough to watch the way your face twists in pleasure as his fingers slip between your folds, running up and down to collect more of your wetness. “You made yourself ready for me, mhm?

You nod, your back arching and a whine leaving you as he sinks a finger into you, thumb pressing down on your clit at the same time. Your pussy sucks his finger in, your walls tight around it as he pumps it in and out. You’re already panting beneath him and he has barely done anything to you. He smirks, leaning down to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“Such a good girl,” he rasps before sliding down. You feel his breath brush over your skin as he moves down your body, tingles shooting through your body as he leaves occasional kisses on your skin.

Cold air hits your core as he tugs your shorts down, causing another round of goosebumps to rise upon your skin. He throws them over his shoulder, a soft thud reaches his ears as they hit the floor. A shaky sigh leaves you as he leans down, face leveling with your core. Jungkook smiles to himself as he watches your pussy clench, your folds glistening as he reaches up with his fingers, spreading them apart.

“Been thinking about eating this pretty pussy of yours all day, baby.”

The words fall from Jungkook's lips before he can stop them, feeling his heart freeze over for a second in fear of how that might have sounded to you. He feels relieved when all you do is whimper in response, core clenching around nothing, inviting Jungkook to come closer.

“Could barely focus at rehearsals…”

He wets his lips, leaning closer, his breath brushing your bare core as he hovers right above where you want him the most. You whine his name impatiently, desperate to feel his mouth on you.

“What was that, ____?” Jungkook hums, lifting his head to look up at you. You shudder, another round of goosebumps rising upon your skin when he leaves a gentle kiss right above your clit, the action teasing and torture all in one.

“Want your mouth.. please,” you whimper, fists gripping the sheets tightly.

Jungkook smiles, kissing your inner thighs softly before throwing your legs over his shoulders and tugging you closer by a tight grip on your hips. You yelp in surprise, a surprised gasp leaving you as Jungkook’s lips latch onto your clit, sucking roughly.

“Oh- god!”

Your hands dig into his black, curly hair, your fingertips tightening around his dark strands as he licks and slurps up your arousal, coating his tongue with it and swallowing it. He moans against you, the sound sending vibrations through your whole body, causing you to arch your back and digging your heels into his back.

Jungkook knows exactly how to eat you out, how to pleasure you to make you cum within minutes – his tongue sucking and flicking your clit is one of the safest and most effective ways to make sure you reach your high every time. He’s spent months learning everything about your body; what to do to make you cum quickly, where to kiss you to cause a shiver to run down your spine, where to touch you in order to have you pleading for more.

He knows it all and it’s to his advantage as he sucks harshly on your clit, earning a whimpering whiny moan from you as your back arches off the bed once again, your chest rising and falling in pants of air as your orgasm sneaks up on you. He watches from between your legs, his mouth still working on your pussy as you reach your high – your brows furrowed together as you bite into your bottom lip, the orgasm rippling through you and causing your hips to jerk against his mouth, thighs trembling.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck-”

The word leaves your lips repeatedly as you cum on his tongue, your juices seeping out of your pretty, perfect pussy; sweet and delicious on his taste buds.

“Oh my god… please fuck me, Kook-“

Jungkook swallows every drop of your orgasm, humming and moaning as he does so, the sound of your pleads for him to fuck you going straight to his hard cock. It’s straining against his jeans as he leaves a kiss right above your slit before moving up to hover over you. He smirks softly at you, tongue poking out to lick away the bit of your arousal that’s sitting at the corner of his mouth.

You let out a soft groan of arousal, hands reaching up to grab him by the nape of his neck to pull him down for a kiss. Jungkook grunts against your mouth as your other hand reaches down to cup his bulge through his jeans, giving him a soft squeeze. Jungkook is breathing heavily against your lips, pulling away just enough to meet your eyes. You whine at the lack of his lips on yours, giving his cock another squeeze. He grins mischievously at the desperate sounds you let out.

“You want my cock, baby?” He hums, slightly breathless because of your touch.

His pride grows as you instantly nod, a soft ‘please’ leaving your pretty lips as you lift your head to kiss him again. Jungkook welcomes your kiss, groaning against your lips. He reaches down to undo his jeans before covering your hand with his, guiding it inside his pants, silently urging you to touch him through his boxers instead. You obey, receiving a low ‘fuck’ from Jungkook as he moves his mouth to your neck again, kissing and nippling at your skin.

“Want me to fill this pretty, sensitive pussy of yours, hm?”

Jungkook growls the words in your ear as he finds your core again, fingertips teasing your wet and glistening folds. You whimper underneath him, goosebumps rising on your skin as he teases your clit with his thumb, the bundle of nerves sensitive from your orgasm just a few minutes ago.

“Yes.. want your cock so bad, Kook-”

Jungkook tuts, the lack of a certain word not going unnoticed.

“Yes what?”

“Yes, please-“

His lips curl into a smile as you obey in an instant, needy and desperate for his cock, to be filled to the brim and spread wide open for him to devour as he pleases.

Jungkook removes his fingers from your heat, sitting up on his knees between your legs to look down at you. As if magnets connect the two of you, you follow and sit up, hands supporting you behind you as you look up at him; beautiful, intriguing eyes that are heavy-lidded and dazed as you stare at him.

Jungkook’s hand reaches out to cup your chin, tilting your head up as his eyes roam your face and down the expanse of your body. His eyes zoom in on your glistening pussy, clenching and throbbing in need of his cock. He smiles to himself as his eyes move further up, noticing the way your nipples are hard underneath your flimsy pajamas top, evident underneath the thin fabric and making his cock twitch in his boxers.

God, he needs to be buried deep within you right this second or he’ll lose his mind.

“On your hands and knees, princess,” he demands, thumb running over your bottom lip before he retracts his hand from your face. His soft and gentle touch causes you to take a few seconds to register what he said, your brain not catching up until he speaks again. “Now.”

He watches in amusement as you realize what he said, face twisting in arousal as you do as told and get on all fours in front of him, your back facing him. Jungkook’s smile widens into a smirk as you place your feet on either side of his knees, positioning yourself perfectly for him.

“Pretty girl,” he hums as he reaches for your ass, grabbing two good handfuls of your flesh before giving it a squeeze, spreading your cheeks apart to reveal your holes; one of them wet and glistening with arousal practically dripping from it, the other tight and small, still untouched by Jungkook after all these months.

“Kook…” you impatiently whine, arching your back and pushing your ass closer to him, glancing at him over your shoulder. He looks so good – unbelievably sexy with his dark black hair and lip ring, tattoos covering one of his arms and hands.

Jungkook is biting his bottom lip as he continues to play with your ass cheeks, unable to keep himself from collecting a pit of spit before letting it drop to your hole, a surprised gasp leaving you as he runs his thumb over it, spreading it out in a circling motion. You let out a shaky breath, a delicate whimper escaping you as you press your chest to the mattress, ass in the air as he continues to circle your tight hole with his thumb.

“Would you let me fuck this tight little ass one day?” He suddenly asks, voice low and deep as he moves his gaze to watch you. The way your brows knit together and lips part in pleasure as he keeps on circling his thumb around your hole has his cock turning painfully hard in his boxers. “Hm? Would you?”

“Fuck- god, yes..” you moan, breathless voice and uneven breathing as you revel in the feeling of his slow and attentive touch.

“Yeah? You’d let me fuck you however I want?”

You nod vigorously and whimper, “yes.. would let you do whatever you want, Kook.. ah-“

Jungkook swears under his breath, the thought of fucking your ass making his cock twitch uncontrollably in his boxers. Unable to hold back any longer, he reaches down to pull his cock out from the right confinements of his boxers, fisting his length in slow, prolonged strokes as he guides his tip closer to your folds.

He huffs out a proud chuckle as you jerk and yelp in surprise when he presses his tip between your folds, prodding at your entrance teasingly. You whine impatiently, hands tightly gripping the sheets as you push back in an attempt to make his cock slip inside of you.

“So fucking needy,” Jungkook rasps, his words a growl in his throat as he rubs his tip up and down between your folds before slipping inside of you, pushing deeper in the slowest thrust he can muster. You moan delicately as he groans in pleasure. Your walls engulf him, sucking him in deeper and fitting just perfectly around his cock. “Fuck, you were made for my cock, princess-“

You let out a relieved, fucked out moan as he bottoms out, back arching as his hands slide over your ass cheeks and down to you waist. His fingertips dig into your flesh as he watches himself pull out and slide right back inside, lips parted as he settles into a slow, torturous rhythm.

“Ohh.. fuck- your cock feels so good,” you moan, moving back against him meeting his thrusts halfway.

“Yeah?” Jungkook grits as he uses his grip on your hips to pull you back on his cock, fucking deeply into you with every thrust, his tip hitting your cervix over and over. “You love being filled and stretched out, hm?”

“Y-Yes..” Your words are laced with a breathless moan, breathing ragged and following every thrust of his hips. The lewd sounds of skin slapping against skin fills the room every time your ass slams against his thighs. Your moans turn higher in octave as he picks up the pace of his hips. “Love it so much, Kook-”

Jungkook groans at your words, loving how your pussy just fits him, how easy it is for him to slip in and out again in smooth thrusts, his length rubbing against your walls over and over again. In need of your mouth on his, Jungkook slides his hands up the expanse of your back, pushing the fabric of your pajamas top up. He pulls it over your head, getting rid of it before closing his hands around your throat to pull you up. Your back stays arched, ass continuously slamming back against him as he tilts your head back by his grip on our throat. You whimper, becoming immensely wetter the moment Jungkook catches your lips with his own, his tongue melting with yours instantly.

“You take my cock so fucking well..” Jungkook growls against your mouth, slipping one of his hands underneath your body to grip your breast, giving it a tight squeeze before pinching your already hardened nipple. A sudden feeling of possessiveness fills him as you moan his name, walls clenching around his length every time he buries himself in you. “My good girl-”

Jungkook is too caught up in the feeling of your pussy to even think twice about how his slightly possessive tone might have sounded in your ears. He can’t find it in him to care or worry about it as his thrusts turn slower yet harder, slamming into you over and over. He moans against your mouth, his hand on your breast sliding down to your clit to rub it in circles.

“Wanna feel you cum around me, baby- can you do that for me?”

Another whimper escapes you as you weakly nod, eyes rolling to the back of your head as he rubs your clit in a circular motion, the bundle of nerves sensitive as hell, chills filling your skin as another orgasm sneaks up on you fast. Jungkook feels it all, the way your walls start to clench and unclench around him, how your breathing turns heavier than it already was, your moans becoming whiny whimpers as you near your high.

“Cum all over my cock, ____,” Jungkook growls, his lips now brushing the shell of your ear. “Let me feel it- come on…”

“Fuck- ah, Jungkook!”

“That’s it, baby- shit..”

Jungkook lets out a groan as you finally cum around him, the sound reverberating into your ear and sending chills down your spine. He continues to fuck into your perfect pussy, hitting deeply over and over again as he slams into you through your orgasm. You whine in sensitivity as he lets go of your throat, pushing you into the mattress, hands back on your waist as he chases his own orgasm.

“Gonna cum so hard, baby- gonna fill your pretty little pussy until it overflows..” he grunts as he slams into you, his thighs slapping against your ass as you whimper underneath him. One of your hands reaches behind you to grab his forearm, nails digging into his skin as his thrusts turn brutal and definitely leaving bruises for you to deal with tomorrow. Jungkook grits and swears under his breath as his hips stutter, his high sneaking a hold of him and pulling him under, tingles of his orgasm running through him as he fucks into you with a few more hard slaps before stilling inside of you. “Fuck-”

“Oh my god-” You moan as he slams into you one last time before stilling, the swear word he lets out in a growling tone sending a shiver down your spine.

Spurts of his orgasm fills you, white and warm cum painting your walls as he empties himself deeply inside of you. He’s breathing heavily as he grinds into you, riding out your highs. One of his hands supports himself on the mattress next to your head, tattooed hand gripping the sheets tightly as he tries to control his uneven breathing. Silence surrounds you as you come down, your hearts beating wildly in your chests and bodies buzzing with the aftershocks of your orgasms.

Jungkook isn’t sure what to say as he pulls out of you, hissing softly as his cock slowly turns soft the moment it’s freed from your tight walls. Your arousal and cum mixed with his own coats his silky shaft, glistening in the yellow hue of your bedside lamp. Jungkook leans down to leave a soft kiss on your shoulder, his free hand sliding up and down the side of your torso in a caressing stroke. There’s an unfamiliar feeling filling his chest as he lingers above you, leaving another soft kiss to your skin before removing himself from you entirely.

You stay lying on the bed as he makes his way to the ensuite bathroom you have. Out of routine and growing habit, he grabs a small hand-towel from your cabinet under the sink. He wets it with lukewarm water, his gaze on you through the mirror. You haven’t moved since he got off the bed and you’re definitely more quiet than usual. Jungkook lets out a frustrated sigh as he cleans himself up before wringing the towel under the water once again and returning to you.

“Hey..” He softly calls to capture your attention, gently tapping the back of your thigh to urge you to turn around. For some reason, he’s holding his breath, not sure what to expect when you face him. Jungkook feels his heart sink into his stomach as he watches you roll onto your back, eyes briefly meeting his for a split second before they shift to the ceiling instead, obviously avoiding his gaze. Not entirely sure what to do or say, Jungkook cautiously places a hand on your thigh to gently spread your legs so he can clean you up after making a mess between your legs.

He watches you intently as he starts cleaning you up. You let out a shaky breath as he touches your sensitive core with the damp towel. He wants to say something but he’s not quite sure what you want to hear right now or what he wants to say himself. He knows something has changed between you lately, especially from Jungkook’s side but he knows it will only cause more trouble than anything else.

“You okay?” He decides to ask instead as he finishes cleaning up his mess, an urge to make sure nothing is wrong overwhelming him because it feels like something might be exactly that – wrong.

“We should talk.”

Your voice is soft as you speak up. He stays quiet as you close your thighs and pull your sheets up to cover yourself, the sight of your beautiful naked body disappearing from his vision. He sits down on the edge of the bed and stares at you for a moment, chewing his bottom lip as nerves fill him.

“What’s on your mind?” He asks, his voice careful and quiet.

You shrug, frowning faintly as your eyes focus on nothing in particular for a second before returning to meet his, “you…”

Jungkook feels his heart melt at your answer yet it keeps beating harshly in his chest.

“Us…” You trail off, still frowning. “What we are and what we could be.”

“Could be?”

Jungkook can’t help but repeat your last words, intrigued by them and also very scared of what you might mean by them.

You nod, “yeah, you know… if you weren’t who you are.”

His heart sinks for the second time tonight, laying at the very bottom of his stomach with cracks in it because you sound so fragile as you admit what’s on your mind, as you talk about what you and him could be if the circumstances were different – if he wasn’t Jungkook of BTS but just Jeon Jungkook from Busan.

“Do you think that maybe… we’re wasting each other’s time?” You ask him, voice so small and careful he fears it might crack in a second.

Your question catches him off guard.

When he rode his bike here, he didn’t think you’d end up in the middle of a deep conversation like this but here you are, talking about what you could possibly be if he wasn’t who he is, talking about how you might be wasting each other’s time by seeing each other, by being exclusive and only fucking each other, by having an arrangement with no strings attached.

Jungkook doesn’t feel like he’s wasted his time by being with you; in fact, you’ve probably made life a tiny bit easier and more normal for Jungkook. Being a worldwide superstar can be overwhelming and frustrating from time to time but he knows a night with you will remove every single hardship he comes across.

“No,” he finally says, shaking his head. “I don’t think we’re wasting each other’s time.”

“No?”

Jungkook shakes his head again, offering you a half smile along with a hand, silently asking you to come closer. You take his hand without hesitation, the gesture causing Jungkook’s heart to skip a beat. His smile grows a bit as he tugs you closer, pulling you into his lap, arms wrapping around your waist. Warmth spreads in his chest as you cuddle into him, your own arms snaking around his torso.

“This… arrangement of ours has been one of the few good things in my life lately,” Jungkook admits, his hands roaming your naked back, fingertips playing with the ends of your hair as he brushes his lips over the skin of your shoulder.

You lift your head to look at him, frowning at his words. “Is everything okay? Are you okay?”

The evident concern on your features has Jungkook smiling as he reaches up to tug a strand of hair behind your ear. He nods, “yeah, everything’s fine, I’m fine.”

“Jungkook…” You gently say his name, eyes shifting between his, “are you not happy?”

“I am,” he tells you, “it’s just… sometimes a life like mine can be kind of hectic.”

“I’m sorry,” you frown as you wrap your arms around his neck, fingers playing with his hair.

“It all gets better whenever I'm here though… with you.”

Jungkook watches your frown turn into a small and shy smile, the sight making his heart flutter. You’re so beautiful, he can’t stop looking at you, a constant urge to kiss you filling his body whenever he’s around you.

“You treat me like me, like Jungkook,” he admits, “and not like Jungkook of BTS.”

You shrug, smiling as your eyes shift from his eyes to his lips and back again. “Well, you are just Jungkook to me. You’re human like the rest of us, aren’t you?”

He smiles and nods, “yeah.”

“There’s no reason for me to kiss your butt and boost your ego,” you giggle softly, the sound sending butterflies flying in Jungkook’s entire body. He cocks an eyebrow at your words, smirking softly.

“And why’s that?”

You lean in closer, lips ghosting his. Jungkook’s arms tighten around your waist as you press your chest flush against his.

“Because I already have you right where I want you.”

3K notes · View notes

cheolism · 1 year

Text

picture of innocence

✧ seungcheol x afab reader

✧ summary: you were the picture of innocence to seungcheol, and when you walked around in that robe he just can't help but to try and ruin that picture.

✧ wc is approx 2.6k

✧ warnings: corruption kink, innocence kink. sex without protection, clothed sex. dom! seungcheol. vulgar language, dirty talk. pet names (baby girl, princess, baby). oral sex (seungcheol giving), cumming inside. innocent reader, dirty-minded and possessive seungcheol.

Seungcheol loved how innocent you were.

He loved how when you saw stray casts you dropped to your knees, singing out cute little words of praise and beckoning them. He loved watching you giggle with delight at the aquarium as you pet the stingrays, encouraging him to join you. Seungcheol loved it when you came running to him, a random flower in your hand and presenting it to him.

He loved how you chewed at your lip, unaware of how he watched your tongue run over the corners of your mouth. He loved it when you laced your arm through his and hung onto him, the sense of pride that flooded his heart after. He loved watching you absentmindedly lick at your ice cream spoon, unaware of how he imagined your tongue running over his dick, savoring it like you did the ice cream.

He loved watching you leave the bathroom wearing that stupid robe he got you for Christmas.

It came to the back of your knees, brightly colored pink with orange tabby cats printed on it. It had fluff around the collar, which despite how tightly you had tied the robe strings around your waist, gaped. Seungcheol could see the expanse of your collar, the sweet valley between your breasts and the beginning of the gentle curve of a breast.

You pranced over to him, grinning brightly and oblivious to how his eyes were caught on that space revealed by your robe. You reached out and ran your fingers through his long strands, tilting his head and pressing your lips to his temple.

“Love you,” you murmured, eyes shining as you pulled away.

Yes, Seungcheol loved how innocent you were. How you were completely, utterly ignorant to how he looked at you. How his mind filled with images of him shoving the hem of your robe up, fingers burying themselves into your pussy as he fucked you over the couch.

“Love you, too,” Seungcheol returned.

He watched as you pulled away, satisfied. You turned your back to him and left for your shared bedroom. The robe did nothing to hide your curves; the shape of your hips. The strings of your robes were tightly wound around his waist, revealing the smallness of it. The fabric of the robe clung to your ass, hugging it, and Seungcheol wished it was his hands so tightly pressed against your ass and not the robe.

Seungcheol was up and moving from the couch, not really knowing what he was doing. He couldn’t really think, not with his dick swelling against his sweats.

You were laying on your stomach on the bed, staring at your screen. Your feet dangled off of the bed. The robe was in disarray around your middle, and Seungcheol knew for a fact that if he were to turn you over it would reveal all of you.

He squared himself to the bed, hands settling on your ankles. You startled, turning and giving him a smile. “Hi, Cheolie!”

“Hi, princess,” he murmured. You tried to turn in his hold, but he tightened his hold on your ankles. “Stay still, baby.”

You tilted your head.

You had no idea.

Seungcheol adjusted his grip on your ankles, and then he was yanking you down the bed. You let out a loud breath of laughter as he moved you until your as was on the edge of the bed. “Seungcheol! What are you doing?”

He pressed himself closer, hands settling on your lower hips. Your robe had ridden up, the hem of it hugging the swell of your ass. One shoulder had completely fallen, revealing half of your back to him. Seungcheol’s dick seemed to throb, and he couldn’t help but press forward and grind his dick against your clothed ass.

“Cheol!” You gasped, eyes wide. You looked like a deer caught in headlights, as if you didn’t expect this.

Seungcheol couldn’t help the little smirk on his face. He flipped up the skirt of your robe, revealing the swell of your ass. You protested, a little pout on your face. “Be serious, Princess. You knew this was going to happen as soon as you put that little robe on.”

“Seung --”

He pinched the fat of your ass, drawing out a little cry. “You can’t just go around taunting me like this and expect me not to do nothing. Now you’re going to sit here and take it like the good girl you are. Aren’t you, Princess?”

Then his hands -- his large hands that you constantly fawned over -- went to your thighs, his fingers digging in. He pried them apart, revealing the little heaven that laid between your legs.

A sigh left you, and you relaxed in his hold. You moved your thighs to his will, resting your head against the bed.

Seungcheol went to his knees, dragging his hands down your skin. The inside of your thighs was warm, and when he brushed his fingers against your pussy he couldn’t help the little groan that escaped him from how hot it felt. He lowered his face, pressing his lips against the inside of your thigh.

“Cheol,” You sighed.

Seungcheol began pressing kisses to your thighs, alternating between them both. He couldn’t help but nibble against one, drawing a low groan out of you. He grinned against your skin at the noise. He then stuck his tongue out, running it down the inside of your thigh, breathing in the sweetness of your cunt and the scent of your body wash.

“Seungcheol.”

“Tell me what you want, Babygirl,” he commanded. His voice was deep, coming from his stomach. Seungcheol’s dick still throbbed, angry that he wasn’t shoving it inside of you already. “Use your words.”

“Please,” you gasped. You twisted against the bed. “Can you please -- can you please use your tongue on me? Please?”

Again, Seungcheol loved how innocent you were. How even with him on his knees for you, breathing in the scent of your pussy, innocence and purity dripped from you.

It always made him feel powerful when you were like this. It made him feel like the strongest man in the world when you were in awe over his muscles; when you so sweetly begged for him.

He settled both of his hands on the insides of your thighs, opening up your lips and presenting your cunt. Seungcheol couldn’t help but appreciate it for a moment, how it glistened and gaped, how both your mouth and cunt seemed to beg for him.

Then Seungcheol pressed his tongue down on your clit; you squealed. He dragged it up the length of your pussy, collecting juices. When you struggled against him, pleasure sending your body quivering, Seungcheol grabbed the flesh of your thighs and pinched it.

“Be good or I’ll make you take my cock dry,” he ordered.

Another gush of fluids left you, a little high-pitched noise escaping your mouth. “Seungcheol, please. I’ll be good.”

“I know you will, Princess.” He ducked down to your cunt once again. He pressed his tongue to your cunt, licking and tasting. Seungcheol ignored your clit, dipping his tongue in and out of your hole, devouring you whole.

He ate you the only way he knew how to: earnestly. Seungcheol worked his mouth against you quickly, kissing and tonguing your cunt like he would your mouth. You were whining, shifting constantly, trying to grind back on him.

Eating your pussy, to Seungcheol, was second only to fucking you open. He loved using his fingers in you, loved stretching you out and watching you face contort in ecstasy. But there was something about making you whine and cry with just his mouth, feeling your juices collect and drip down his chin, smear against his cheeks.

“Ch --” You struggled to speak, canting your hips back against him. Seungcheol didn’t relent his pace, slurping loudly against you. “Ch -- Cheol!”

He hummed against you. Seungcheol shifted before thrusting his tongue deep inside of you, trying to curling it and collecting.

“Gotta talk to me,” He murmured, mouth brushing against your pussy. “Gotta use your words for me to know what you want, babygirl.”

He knew what you wanted. Seungcheol always knew. He prided himself on knowing what you wanted before you did. He loved being able to provide for you, whether it be pressing a bottle of water into your hands on a hot day or wrapping his arms around you after a bad dream.

“Touch me? Please, Seungcheol, touch me.”

Seungcheol hummed again. “Already touching you, baby.” You let out a high whine. “Come on, babygirl. Gotta use your words.”

You whispered something into the blankets. Seungcheol pretended not to hear. “Gotta speak up, babygirl.”

“My clit!” You cried out, voice strained. Your pussy fluttered, clenching. “Please, Seungcheol!”

Seungcheol grinned against your cunt, breathing in your smell. Then he was shifting, one hand moving to open your pussy lips and the other resting on the outside of your pussy. He wiggled his finger against your lip, the very tip of it brushing against your clit.

You let out a sob. “Seungcheol! Cheol, please, please, please --”

He reattached his mouth to your hole, tongue plunging into you. Seungcheol’s thumb went under your hood, pressing meanly against your clit. You shuddered against him, hips careering back and pressing into him.

Seungcheol worked his thumb boldly against your clit, rubbing fast and hard, tongue continuing to gather your juices. You were frantically moving your hips, loud noises in the approximation of words escaping you and filling the bedroom.

Your voice broke, a loud gasp leaving you. Juices gushed out of your pussy, staining his lower face. Seungcheol continued to work you, thumb and tongue relentless. He didn’t stop until you were straining against him, orgasm over and trying to pull away.

Seungcheol pressed a kiss to your pussy, trailing his lips from your drenched core to your thighs. He stood, hands running up your thighs and smoothing over your ass. He pushed your robe from where it fell, revealing your ass once again. “How was that, babygirl?”

“Good,” you hummed, voice soft. You wiggled, turning your head to look at him out of the corner of your eye. Tears stained your face, eyes red. Still you gave him a shy smile. “Always so good to me, Cheol.”

Seungcheol smoothed his hands over your ass again. “You were so good too, baby. Are you going to keep being good and let me fuck that soaking pussy of yours?”

You nodded. Seungcheol squeezed your ass one last time. Then he settled his hands on your hips, guiding you to turn around. You obediently followed him, letting Seungcheol maneuver you.

As he had thought, your robe had become undone. The strings of it were loose, revealing your breasts and throat. Your robe was somewhat closed around your middle, but barely.

Carelessly, Seungcheol reached down and tugged one of your robe strings. He pulled it loose, opening your robe further and revealing your torso.

You shifted against the bed, hands clenching. Seungcheol couldn’t help the dark chuckle that escaped him. “You embarrassed, baby? Embarrassed about me seeing you naked? Even though I’ve fucked you a hundred times before?”

You breathed out his name breathlessly. Seungcheol pulled you back down the bed, your legs wrapping around his middle. He shoved down his sweats, letting them gather around his knees. His cock immediately slapped against his stomach, furious and red.

Seungcheol’s hand went to his dick, thumb rubbing against his head and gathering the leaking precum. “You embarrassed, baby, even though I know you dream of my cock when you’re asleep? Even though I’ve fucked your pussy raw before?”

“Please,” You asked, voice sweet and eyes wide.

He tugged at his cock a handful of times. “God. Should keep you here like this all the time. Keep you wet and open for me, for my cock.”

‘Cheol,” You were pleading. It was sweeter than any honey. “Please, just put it in.”

“Put it in?” Seungcheol smirked, lips twisting. “Want me to stuff your pussy with my cock? Want me to fill your dripping cunt?”

You were nodding frantically, eyes wide and mouth parted. Seungcheol pressed forward, tugging at his dick and pressing the head against your cunt. “You sure, babygirl? Sure you want me to fill your cunt with my dick? Want to feel my dick stretching you out?”

His name was pouring from your lips like a prayer. You were begging, and he couldn’t help the little thrill that that gave him. Knowing that you, beautiful, sweet you, were begging for him to fuck you and fill you, for him to defile you.

Slowly, Seungcheol began to feed his cock into your pussy. His hands went to your hips, eyes watching as your pussy eagerly took him. You were clenching around him, pussy beating like a heart, ready to milk him.

He took a few moments for you to adjust to his length. Seungcheol watched your chest heave, eyes shut.

You bucked your hips against him. Seungcheol took it as the signal it was, his hands gripping your hips and fingers digging in. He withdrew his cock from your pussy, until just the head rested in your hole. Then Seungcheol snapped his hips forward, driving his cock in and sheathing it all at once.

“Seungcheol!” You cried out, back arching. Your hands scrambled against the bed, collecting the blankets and sheets, trying to grab hold of something.

“That’s it,” he murmured. He kept his grip on you, the bed creaking as he kept bringing your hips to meet his, snapping into you.

You took all of his cock like a good girl, pussy clenching around him. Seungcheol shifted, moving to prop one hand against the bed, pushing your leg up higher and letting him reach deeper in you. Your moans were loud, joining his pants as he drove into you, cockhead bruising your g-spot.

Seungcheol felt the tension in him rising, balls tightening. He reached down and began rubbing at your clit at the same pace as his thrusts, unforgivable. “Gonna cum for me, pretty girl? Gonna soak my cock? Be a good girl and cum for me, and I’ll fill you up. Will fill you up and fuck my cum into you.”

You began sobbing, thrashing on the bed. He pressed down on you, using his weight to keep you from moving too much. Seungcheol watched as tears began to leak from your eyes, mouth going wide as an orgasm ripped through you.

He continued to fuck you through it, refusing to slow his pace. The sound of his hips slapping against you nearly drowned out your little cries of over stimulation, the soft little mewls escaping your lips and imprinting on his mind.

Seungcheol thrusted thrice more, and then he was bearing down on you and fill you with as much of his cock as possible. You panted in his ear as Seungcheol filled you with his cum, cock pulsing and your pussy eagerly drinking.

He didn’t move once finished, keeping you plugged. Eventually Seungcheol gently guided your leg down, letting your body relax. When he withdrew from your cunt, his cum flooded out and leaked from your pussy, mixing with your juices.

Seungcheol watched as you reached down, tentatively prodding at your hole. He felt bad at the wince that overtook you, but then you scooped up the mixture of his cum and your fluids, bringing it up to your mouth and tasting it.

Later, after Seungcheol fucked you once more on the bed, in the shower and then on the counter in the bathroom, you would whine and pout at how sore you were. You’d stick out your lip at Seungcheol, calling him a brute, painting yourself as a picture of innocence.

He’d attend to you, dutiful as ever. He’d get you water and a heating pad, setting it on your lower back. Seungcheol would press kisses to your hair, brushing his fingers over the bruises he left on your neck from his mouth. He’d apologize, believing in your innocence, oblivious as you applauded yourself on a well-executed plan.

#my writing #my fic #scoups #scoups fic #scoups oneshot #scoups smut #s.coups fic #s.coups oneshot #s.coups smut #seungcheol oneshot #seungcheol fic #choi seungcheol oneshot #choi seungcheol fic #svt fic #svt #svt oneshot #svt smut #seventeen fic #seventeen oneshot

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fredwkong · 5 months

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Djinni's Gym: Hot Yoga

With a new gym opening in town, you had finally decided to get off your ass and try working out again. You had always been kind of shrimpy, and a few months of nonstop office work had added a bit of unwanted mass to your belly. A generous free trial of the new gym’s facilities was just the kick you needed to get back in shape.

Of course, you hadn’t counted on what seemed to be half the men in town taking the free trial as well. You shouldered through the crowd in the reception area, at least a dozen men filling out release of liability forms. “Look,” you said to the receptionist, a huge Black man, “can I at least go stretch and then come fill out the form when it’s not so busy?”

The guy looked you over and shrugged. “Sure, lil bro,” he rumbled. “The yoga studio is over there.” He lifted a massive arm and pointed across the weight room. As you nodded, you caught a whiff of the humid stench rising from his pit. As your eyes watered, you found yourself rock hard in your sweats.

“Th-thanks,” you stammered, and hurried through the turnstile, your cheeks burning. You had never reacted like that to another man. You looked around the weight room, trying to distract yourself.

The whole place was full of big weightlifters with a whole range of skin tones, all of them dressed in gym gear that left nothing to the imagination. You swallowed, your throat suddenly gone dry as a huge Indian bro grunted through a squat, sweat soaking the back of his tank top.

In a daze, you drifted across the weight room, your eyes drawn to every bouncing pec, rounded ass, and thick bulge you passed. A medley of scents flooded your nostrils, and your own cock started to leak pre into your briefs.

Finally, the door of the yoga studio closed behind you. Your head spun as you leaned against it, idly trailing one hand over your belly to cup your groin.

The yoga studio was dim, wood-panelled and, you quickly realised, heated. The thermostat on the wall read 38 Celsius. There was a single yoga mat set up in the middle of the room. To your overheated, lust-addled mind, some yoga seemed like a great idea. It didn’t occur to you that you hadn’t done a flow in years.

As you stepped out of your shoes and onto the yoga mat and stood in mountain pose, your feet tingled and expanded, darkening from toes to soles to ankles. Your joints flexed, supple and agile, as your feet began to emit a masculine scent that tickled your nose. Your cock jerked again, but you attempted to ignore the heat coiling in your belly.

You raised your arms and slipped into a forward fold, a little surprised when your hands easily touched the mat. You breathed into the gentle stretch in your hamstrings, unaware of your fingers stretching wider across the mat, their grip soft yet strong. An olive tone spread across your formerly pale hands as a sheen of sweat stood out among the thickening hairs near your wrist.

Stepping back into plank, you lowered yourself halfway and slipped smoothly into upward dog. You were surprised at how well your body recalled the sun salutation. After a few minutes in downward facing dog, you lowered yourself to your hands and knees in tabletop.

Dark skin rushed up your arms and legs. They got no longer or shorter, but tightened with lean, hairy muscle. Sweat poured off your body as you went through cat and cow repetitions, adding to the heady, musky humidity of the studio that was keeping you boned up.

You slipped seamlessly into a side split, your newly flexible hips bringing your cock and balls right down to the mat. You gasped, unable to contain yourself as your cock shuddered and grew against the rubber, thickening and darkening as a foreskin grew to cover the head. You felt an even larger spurt of precum gush into your sweats, which seemed to shrink and tighten, until you realised you were wearing stretchy yoga tights that left nothing to imagination. As you lifted out of the stretch, you left a visible pearly stain of precum on the mat, which added its own earthy musk to the air.

Finally, you lowered yourself from a plank onto your belly, resting one cheek on the mat as you breathed. Your shirt vanished into thin air, revealing your newly tight pecs, flat belly, and rippling back muscles. An olive tone swept up your neck, dusting your cheeks with stubble as your eyes darkened, hooded and lusty. You sighed in a deeper voice than you were accustomed to, relaxing into the yoga mat as your transformation ended.

The door of the studio opened behind you. “Hello?” rumbled the big receptionist.

His name suddenly leapt into your mind. “Hey Shaun,” you purred, a Hispanic accent creeping into your voice. “Want to help me stretch out?”

Shaun chuckled. “I’m on the clock, Jorge. I’ll take you in the showers after close.” He sniffed the air appreciatively. “You ready for your first class?”

Your cock flexed, trapped between your hip and the mat, at the thought of a couple dozen sexy men getting sweaty at your command. Only long practice at containing your lust until the right moment kept you under control. You couldn’t wait to lead them through a flow, get them hot and excited, and then help them release all their tension along with their sweat and, possibly, their jizz. You had become Jorge the Mexican yoga instructor, and you couldn’t imagine a better job than teaching classes at Djinni’s Gym.

#djinni's gym #genie #wish #musk tf #muscle tf #race change #latino tf #all fwkong

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lady-lauren · 2 years

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Pairing: Pro-Hero!Katsuki x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Stuckage, slight dubcon, praise kink, degradation, light spanking, thigh fucking, spitting (on the pussy), fingering, vaginal sex, creampie

Word Count: 4k

A/N: I’ve wanted to write stuckage for so long, and who better with than Katsuki? For those who don’t know, stuckage just means one of the characters literally gets stuck and fucked lol in this case, it’s reader.

It’s a normal patrol night. Humid summer air sticks to sweaty, sweet smelling skin, makes Katuski’s hands itch in his gloves. In and out of alleys, checking lingering shadows and avoiding the gazes of pedestrians.

By midnight, he’s bored.

There are no alarms ringing on his phone, no idiot villains skirting around corners for him to chase. Wide awake and ansty, he slips down another alley, kicking a few trash bags before checking in a dumpster. He half-way wishes there was a body inside, just something to pique his interest.

“H-hey! Hey down there!” a feminine voice echoes off the brick walls of the apartment buildings, riding the heatwaves and sinking into the pavement.

Katsuki squints as he looks up, nose wrinkling at the thought of some fangirl yelling down at him from her bedroom.

Then, he sees you. You’re halfway out your window, three stories up.

He has to move around a bit to really get a good look at you, the rusted metal railings of the fire escape to your building blocking his view.

“What the fuck do you want?”

His tone is biting, like a dog snarling in warning to keep away.

“I need help! I- fuck,” you sound exhasperated, like you’ve been struggling, “My cat was on the fire escape—”

“Listen, I don’t chase after fucking cats! I’m a Pro-Hero, I have better shit to do.”

Though, at the moment, he truly doesn’t. But he most definitely doesn’t feel like manhandling some feisty cat on the streets.

“Oh my god,” he hears you mumble from above, head dropping as your hands press back on your window sill, “The cat’s fine! I’m the one who needs help. I’m…I’m stuck!”

Great. Some stupid damsel in distress. It’s a Saturday night, you should have better shit to do than worrying about your cat. You’re young, from what he can tell, probably in your mid-twenties like he is. You should be out partying, sucking cock and drinking too much.

“Fine! I’m coming up.”

With long leaps, he scales the fire escape easily, noticing how the other windows in this building either have their blinds closed or the lights are snuffed out. Your little window is glowing, though, warm yellow lamplight guiding his way to where you’re hanging.

His heavy boots on the steel make you shiver, your frayed nerves making you easily spooked. You raise your head the best you can, neck craning to look up at him.

“Oh. You’re Dynamight, right?”

He grits his teeth, sucking in a growl of frustration that you hadn’t recognized him earlier. His face is plastered on billboards, he’s the posterboy for Calvin Klein in magazines. You should know who he is just from one glance.

Purposely ignoring you, Katsuki crouches down to your level, making sure not to knock your stupid little head with his gauntlets as he starts to lift up on the window. He grunts as it doesn’t budge.

“It’s locked from the inside. Please don’t bust my lock, my landlord will fucking kill me,” you take in a deep breath, coughing a bit from where your lungs are trapped, “and the maintenance guy won’t fix it for a week.”

“Jesus fucking christ, then what do you want me to do? Push you back in?”

“Do you think that will work?”

Katsuki rebalances on his toes, staying low so he can actually take a look at your situation.

The heavy window has fallen onto your back, just below your shoulder blades. It fell at just the right angle to click the lock back in place, the simple turn mechanism taunting him from behind the glass. Your arms and tits are dangling on the outside, ass up inside your apartment. You’re in nothing but an oversized t-shirt, embroidered with some quirkless university logo.

“How long have you been like this?”

“I don’t know. Maybe, like, half an hour? My fingers are going numb.”

You’re not even bothering to raise your head up to speak, just talking down through the galvanized steel gratings. Your hair is a mess from your struggling.

He’d be a shitty hero if he left you like this. From up here, you’re tempting. He can see the curve of your ass, pink thong peeking out from the hem of your shirt.

Sighing, he pinches the bridge of his nose, “Is your apartment unlocked?”

“No. I’m not an idiot, I wouldn’t leave my door open when I live alone.” You’re getting frustrated, groaning as you try to shift yourself again, ass wiggling and knuckles turning color as you press against the window sill and try to shove yourself back inside. “However, the guy in the apartment l-lobby has keys to all the apartments. Tell him you need the one to 3-A.”

“And you think he’s just gonna give it to me, sweetheart?”

You finally raise your head and look up at him, brows furrowed but your pretty eyes are teary. Your lips are inches away from his clothed cock, he could easily pry your mouth open and—

“You’re a hero, aren’t you? I’m sure he’ll give you the fucking key for a girl in need.”

Katsuki doesn’t bother to bite back his grumblings, muttering about how fucking stupid you are and how he doesn’t get paid enough for this shit as he descends the fire escape.

Like you said, the lobby attendant doesn’t bat an eyelash when Katsuki asks for the key to your apartment.

In fact, the guy stares at the orange and black of Katsuki’s chest, grinning as he looks up and asks for an autograph. Katsuki feels like grabbing the guy’s stupid head and bashing it into the counter. But he obliges, taking a few extra seconds to scribble his name onto an empty sign-in sheet.

“Thanks man! You got a date with that girl in 3-A? She’s a real cute one.”

“Shut up.”

On his journey up the stairs, Katsuki finds himself agreeing with the man. This could be worse, he could be helping some old hag stuck in her window, trapped in her curlers and nightgown. Instead, it’s some adorable little college girl who just might give him a special treat for saving her. That thought makes him smirk and hold on to the little metal key just a bit tighter.

When Katsuki pries open your apartment door, you are truly a sight to behold.

The window is behind your couch, one with soft cushions that your knees are sinking into. Gravity is working against you, making you lean down and out the window, your beautiful ass high and completely exposed as your shirt peels away from your waist.

The light pink thong does nothing to cover you, the fabric tight against the folds of your pussy between your legs. Katsuki slams the door shut just to watch you jump, legs spreading from the jolt.

Katsuki takes a moment just to look around your apartment, that nosy nature buried in everyone rearing its head. You’re definitely a student, bookshelves full of textbooks, notebooks, and whatever else you’ve been assigned to waste your time on. There are a few plants scattered around the one bedroom apartment, posters on the wall, a few framed pictures of your friends.

And the offender who started your predicament sits on the kitchen counter, swishing her tail as Katsuki makes a face. The cat doesn’t budge, just sits and stares with judgment.

“Alright, princess,” he wolf-whistles as he comes closer, flexing his fingers in his gloves, “you really got yourself into a fucking mess.”

You mumble outside the window, but he doesn’t catch it, mind on a single track as he stands right behind you. Closer now, he can see that your panties are wet, dampness making the cotton nearly see-through.

Hooking his index finger underneath the elastic of your thong, he snaps the fabric against your hip just because he can.

Your whole body jumps, a very audible moan sounding from outside.

“Oh, you like that?”

He laughs and repeats his action, taking the time to smooth his finger along the line of your thong before tugging and snapping the flimsy thing harder than before.

He knows this is wrong, the dronings of his hero ethics course ringing in his ears about how a hero should never take advantage of a civilian like this. But he’s a man, a dreadfully bored one with a ripe, round ass just under his fingertips.

Katsuki places one palm on each ass cheek, kneading the supple flesh and spreading them apart. His gauntlets clink as he does, reminding him that he’s a hero, that he’s so much stronger than your little body can probably handle.

“Hey!” One of your legs kicks back at him, missing entirely, “you can fuck me after you get me out of this god damn window!”

“Why wait? You’re already in such a perfect position.”

Katsuki’s grin is wild as he crouches down, becoming eye level with your pussy. Using his gloved thumbs, he spreads your cheeks apart, eyes gleaming as he watches your outer folds suck in your panties.

He feels so powerful, more than normal.

He could do whatever he wanted to you right now and you could do nothing to stop him. He could fuck you for hours, use you like a cocksleeve, dump his cum deep in your guts and still leave you stuck and hanging out of your window. And he just might.

Outside, you whine, a high-pitched tune filtering through the open space of the window. You sound so pitiful, so lost.

“Come on, princess, let’s have some fucking fun.”

He shows his teeth in delight as he draws the fabric of your panties into his fist, using it like reins to keep you in place. You cry out as the cloth digs into your pussy, hot against your clit, dragging along your puckered hole. Your thighs quiver, pressing together to try to relieve the heat he’s creating. He imagines shoving his cock between the fat of your thighs, feeling your soft skin close around him and tug.

“You’re such a stupid little thing, getting stuck like this.”

Your head nods out the window, which makes him chuckle. At least you know you’re a fucking idiot.

His cock is so hard it hurts, leaking tip confined by the tight compress of his boxer briefs.

Red eyes glaze over as he starts shedding some of his gear. His obnoxiously large gauntlets go first, bouncing and clinking on your sofa, followed by his gloves. Then his fingers are quick on his belt, his black cargo pants falling to his knees and draping over his boots.

Katsuki wastes no time pumping his shaft, hissing with relief as his thumb rubs his weeping head.

He peels your panties off slowly, watching how your wetness sticks to the fabric, slick drooling just from the tiniest bit of teasing.

“Such a fucking slut, all wet from a stranger pulling on your fucking panties.”

He gives your ass a quick swat, watching your flesh jiggle. You gasp loudly, lurching forward but not budging in the tight constraint of the window’s edge.

Katsuki spreads your labia with his index finger, playing in the wet heat. You shiver with every touch, hips bucking when the pad of his finger toys with your swollen clit.

“I like how sensitive you are, princess.”

You moan so sweetly at his praise, and he makes a mental note to give you more. But it’s hard not to demean you when you’re like this, all spread open and whimpering for a stranger, stuck in the stupidest position. If you have any of those book smarts to you, he’s about to fuck you dumb.

Your slick is hot against his cock as he rubs his wet fingers against his length. He can’t help himself, his cock aches, his lower stomach pulling tighter than sailor’s knots.

Moving his hips, Katsuki slides his length across your folds, throwing his head back and groaning as he sinks his bare fingers into your hips. He rubs his cock along your pussy a few times, back and forth, back and forth, teasing you both as the veins of his cock throb and glide through puffy folds.

“Fuck your cunt is so hot, whatever loser boyfriend you have doesn’t fucking deserve this.”

The head of his cock brushes your clit and it makes your thighs squeeze together, your hands moving outside to grab at your swinging tits for some semblance of control.

You mumble incoherently about not having a boyfriend.

“Oh yeah? Must’ve been saving this pussy just for me then.”

He almost wants to see if you could just take him now, if he could shove his cock into your too-tight cunt and fuck you through the pain of stretching.

But he’s not that cruel, at least not yet.

Katsuki manhandles you up higher, balancing your knees on the back of your couch so your thighs become the perfect height for his cock.

Still coated in slick, his thick cockhead pops easily into the fat of your pressed thighs, length sliding in afterward. He repeats the motion, drawing his cock all the way out from between your legs, then slowly burrowing his red-hot flushed cock back in.

Your pussy flutters at his ministrations, tight hole sucking around nothing.

“Oh poor baby wants something in her pussy, doesn’t she?”

Sucking in his cheeks, Katsuki gathers spit in his mouth before letting it drip from his lips and down onto your cunt. The clear spit coats your folds, gets lost in the mix of your slick.

He could stare at your cunt all fucking day. It’s sexy, unique, spreads for him so easily.

His fingers are quick, purposeful. His index finger prods you, sliding between your shamefully dripping folds with quick ease. You try to clamp your legs shut at the onslaught of pleasure, but his hand is more durable than you expected.

His fingers are long, thick, perfect for curling inside you and finding that fleshy patch against your inner walls that has you shaking and panting. Two of them push inside of you, gummy walls sucking around him. He isn’t gentle. Each move of his hand is a satisfying jab into your pussy, jolts of hard pleasure racing up your spine and bliss turning hot under your skin.

Cock thumping, Katsuki begins to rock his hips, fucking into your thighs as he shoves his fingers into your cunt.

You’re mewling outside the glass, like a cat in heat out in the alley. The sounds are raunchy, mesmerizing.

Your slick is dripping against his fingers, each squelching push of his hand has you pressing farther into him. His cock is nestled perfectly between your thighs and each convulsion of your body, every clenching, stimulates him just as much.

“Love your fat fucking thighs,” he growls and slaps your ass with his free hand, grinning as your little body struggles to keep up with the onslaught of pleasures.

You are gasping, trying to catch short breaths beneath the weight of the window on your back before your inevitable fall into delirium.

“Dyna—Dynamiiight,” if anyone was awake right now, they’d hear your moans echoing down the bricks of your building.

You cum hard and fast, the pleasure so blinding that you slump down, knees dropping and thighs spasming around his cock. Your cunt is aching, cinching his fingers inside of you almost painfully. You cry out, sobbing at the intensity of it all, tears pricking at your lashes.

“Fuck your pussy gets tight when you cum, holy shit,” your hole pops with suction when he pulls his knuckles out of you.

You’re panting, exhausted and so sore from dangling out of your window, but he doesn’t care.

“I want you to scream like a little whore when I fuck you,” he spanks you to get your attention and pull you away from the aftershocks of orgasm, “you hear me out there?”

As Katsuki pumps his cock, smearing your wetness from his balls to his slit, he realizes he doesn’t even know your name.

Leaning forward, he bangs on the hazy glass with his fist to ensure he gets your attention.

“Hey! What’s your fucking name?”

Your body is limp, your hands now pressed down against the grates of the fire escape and blood rushing to your pretty head. Red eyes stare out the window until he sees a little nod. You raise your head to him, lips swollen from being pressed together, eyes glassy.

You look so fucking hot, all spent and messy just from what he’s doing to you.

You sputter out your name the best you can, gasping for air before rocking your hips back again, begging for his cock.

He shoves himself ruthlessly inside of you, the sharp pain of being spread racing across your nerves at the same time the tense squeeze of your insides make him lose control. You scream, mouth hanging open against the humid air as his cock spears into your insides. The pain quickly morphs into pleasure, his hips snapping up against yours with a ferocity that has moans spilling from your mouth even as you try to stop them.

There is no exit. No escape.

Just heavy breaths and the slapping of skin, wet flesh wrapped snugly around an intrusive cock.

Your body bounces back against him, ass rippling as his muscular thighs barrel into the backs of yours. You’re like a little fuck toy, pliant and soft, pussy gushing and sucking around his thickness.

Katsuki calls out your name just to hear you whine, grinning as he cups his hands around your waist and pulls you back with every quick thrust.

He likes having you like this, vulnerable, unable to move or even see what he’s about to do to you. Circling his thumb over your asshole, he does it just to hear your moans change pitch as you overthink, worrying he’s about to shove the thick digit into you. It’s tempting, but he’s far too focused on how your cunt feels.

Stuffed, he’s sure you feel so fucking stuffed, your puffy lips are dragging along his length with every push and pull, no room left in your guts every time he forces himself inside.

Cardinal eyes are glued to the color of your folds spreading around his cock, a thick cream pooling around his base, getting trapped in his coarse curls and staining his balls.

“You fucking love this, don’t you? Love having a stranger fuck you dumb.”

He doesn’t give a fuck that you can’t really respond; he’s losing his edge, his tongue becoming looser the more he races towards his climax.

“Knew I was gonna fuck you the moment I saw this pretty ass through the window,” he spanks you again, hard and fast, your cunt cinching tighter upon the moment of impact, “stupid little girl, needing to be fucking saved by a big strong,” he grunts, sweat dripping down from his hairline, “hero.”

Curses paint your lips each time his cock stretches you again, and again, and again, as the angle you’re trapped in has his cock brushing against that sweet spot inside of you with every fresh plunge.

“Oh you feel so fucking good squeezing me like that. So fucking good.”

The praise makes you louder, makes one of your neighbors bang on the wall to shut you up.

“You’re such a good girl for letting me fuck you like this, giving me your tight little cunt.”

Slick is drooling down your thighs, making every thrust a wet squish of flesh on flesh. You smell like sex, like sweat and salt, like some sweet fruit being peeled open just for him to taste.

“Need you to cum,” he groans, thinking about how your pussy grabbed hold of his fingers during orgasm, “want you to milk this fucking cock. Gonna cream in your cunt.”

He shouldn’t be so reckless. He should spray his seed on your back, he knows that, but your cunt is sucking him in so tightly that he wants to feel his cum rush your insides. Consequences be damned. He’ll breed you if he fucking wants to.

“Pleasepleasepleaseplease,” that’s all he hears, like a lost bird chirping outside the window, all breathy and airy as you try to contain yourself.

Your orgasm is more intense than before. Katsuki practically feels your whole body go numb, limp, the gasp of a silent scream against foggy glass as every part of you trembles.

The seams of sanity split apart for Katsuki as his balls tighten and that first gush of cum bursts against your gummy walls.

He doesn’t stop, not even as he comes undone, ropes and ropes of hot cum filling up your sloppy pussy and spurting down onto his clothes, onto your thighs. He is unrelenting, keeping you within the throes of orgasmic bliss with his cock plunging inside of you over and over again.

Just because he can. Because you can do nothing about it except drag your nails along steel and squeeze your cunt.

Finally, the hormones stop humming, and Katsuki’s empty balls have grown sore from grinding against your abused clit. He lets your hips drop, his still-hard cock springing out from your insides.

Cum flicks onto his face from the bounce of his dick. He wipes his cheek with sweaty hands, chuckling as he places his palms on the window and catches his breath.

“You alright out there, princess?”

You babble something, give him a little whine.

Shit, he probably went too hard on you.

Quickly, Katsuki clicks the lock and lifts the window, and you rush to take a deep breath into your lungs.

“Holy fucking shit.”

You’re slipping out the window from the loss of stability. He grabs your shirt, nearly ripping the threads as he tugs you back inside your apartment. You tumble into his broad chest, panting and sweaty.

“Seriously, you okay?”

Katsuki is uncaring as he knocks his gear off the couch, metal clanging. He lays you back against the cushions, hands petting at your hair.

He grimaces when he notices a solid line of indentation across your abdomen, just below your bunched shirt. Where the window had you in its grasp will be tender tomorrow.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Just…trying to catch my breath.”

Unable to help himself, Katsuki flicks your shirt up, hungry eyes roaming your tits.

“Fucking greedy aren’t you?” You swat at his hand with a giggle.

He keeps his curious eyes on your hard nipples before letting them wander down, finding your swollen folds still leaking cum.

“You can really take a beating.”

He means it as a compliment.

Sitting up, you groan, stretching your back and rubbing at your sore spots.

“Maybe I should’ve gone to hero school instead, let myself be a paid punching bag.”

Katsuki scoffs, moving back so he can tuck himself into his pants and start to reassemble his gear. His phone is buzzing in his pocket, a notification about a break-in just a few streets away that shitty hair is going to go cover.

“I gotta get back to work. Give me your number.” He tosses his phone before you have a chance to react, the lock screen open as it bounces on your lap.

“What, so you can come save me again next time I’m stuck?”

Katsuki is serious when he looks at you, tightening the orange straps on his chest.

“So we can do this again sometime. Or, I dunno, I can take you on a fucking date if you want.”

You laugh and shrug, typing your name and number into his contacts.

“I’m off work tomorrow if you want to swing by, Dynamight.”

“Call me Katsuki, alright? And yeah, I’ll be by.”

You stand as he finishes making himself presentable, grenade gauntlets clicking back into place on his forearms. He grabs his phone from you and immediately texts you his name.

“Kiss me before you go?”

Your lashes are fluttering up at him, eyes sincere.

“God damn I did this all ass-backwards, didn’t I?” He scolds himself out loud, blowing hot air through his nose.

“You could’ve fucked me and left me,” you giggle, “next time we can catch up on everything we missed.”

He nods curtly, grabbing your face a bit too rough so he can crash his lips against yours. He’s brutal to prove a point, that he wants to kiss you, wants to do more than just take advantage of you. You respond in kind, nails scraping at his chest as you moan against him.

His phone rings again and he pulls away, sweaty palm musing through his hair as he stalks toward your front door.

“Tomorrow.”

He states it as a matter-of-fact. Tomorrow he will be back. Tomorrow he will fuck you again.

The summer air is more suffocating as he returns back to the streets, still resituating his costume and pulling at the crotch of his pants.

You’re fucking insane for letting him fuck you like that, but he’s worse for doing it.

Guilt builds on his shoulders as he stalks toward where he’s needed, only being relieved when he receives a text with your name on it.

1:45 a.m.: photo message

It’s a picture of your cunt, spread open by your fingers on your shitty little sofa. His cum still stains your folds, white is still dribbling out of your little hole.

He stops walking, stares down into the blue light of his screen as his mouth goes dry.

1:46 a.m.: photo message

Now it’s your tits, on full display below your shirt that you have pulled up between your teeth.

1:46 a.m.: I want your cock between them. Tomorrow.

Big thumbs type furiously, his brows locked together.

1:47 a.m.: You’re a fucking freak.

And so is he.

#bakugou smut #katsuki smut #tw:dubcon #tw:stuckage #bakugo smut #bakugou x reader #katsuki x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #bnha smut #bnha bakugou smut #katsuki bakugou #bakugou fanfic #katsuki fanfic #stuckage smut

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fandomxpreferences · 1 year

Text

Knight in a Flight Suit

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x female!reader

TW: swearing, violence, groping

Summary: You like to run your mouth and have no problem stepping up to a man. Why? Because you have your very own security guard.(Based off this post)

Word Count: 1.4k

A/N: GIF is same energy just not fresh out of the shower. Also, you know that scene of Jax in sons of anarchy where he's smoking and suddenly throws a hook that sends the guy into another dimension? That's exactly what im imagining.

Over the years you've gained a reputation for being rather..feisty. Especially with men. You didn't get to where you are in your career by taking things lying down, and you've never had a problem going toe to toe with anybody.

Sure it's gotten you in some situations a few times, namely when you square up to a man whose mother didn't teach them not to hit women. But you've never had issues with holding your own.

Then you met the dagger squad. If it wasn't your husband watching your back, it was Rooster. And if it's not Rooster it's Maverick. If not maverick, then Coyote, and so on. You basically have your own security team, so yea, you're pretty confident in your ability to talk shit to any man who looks at you the wrong way.

Usually though, Jake is the only line of defense you need. Ever since the two of you started dating three years ago, a man hasn't gotten within five feet of you. It only amplified when you got married. Jake would set fire to the world if it meant keeping you safe, and he'd do it with a smile. Tonight is a perfect example of that.

You're standing at the bar waiting for yours and Jake's beers when you feel a hand skim across your back about two inches too far south. You don't like someone touching you at all, but when the man's hand lingers on your ass and gives a light squeeze, you whip around to face him.

"Get your grimy fucking hands off of me." You smack his hand away and the man chuckles. "Looks like we've got a live one." He smirks and you see red.

You size the man up, and he takes it as you checking him out. You don't correct him, usually playing the helpless victim works out in your favor. He's got maybe 40 pounds and half a foot on you but that's never stopped you before.

He reaches out for your waist and you quickly step back to avoid him. At this point you're fairly certain you know how this will end and you're just playing along to see how far he'll take it.

The man laughs and quirks his head to the side, clearly taking it as a challenge. "Playing hard to get, huh? That's fine, I like the chase."

His grin reminds you of the Cheshire Cat and your face contorts in disgust. His smile drops when he sees your reaction and this time it's your turn to smirk. Let the games begin.

You square your shoulders and straighten up to your full height. You go to take a step forward and the man's eyes darken. "You think you can fight me? I don't give a fuck you're a woman, I'll knock your ass clean out." He laughs.

You watch him stand up straight and your eyes never leave his face, even as you have to adjust your angle to be looking up at him. Before either of you can say or do anything else, Jake is standing in front of you.

He has his back to the man, forming a physical barrier and putting a few feet of space between the two of you. "What's going on here, sweet cheeks?" His eyes are glued to yours, never even looking at the man he'd most likely be in the parking lot with in the next five minutes.

Your posture relaxes in his presence, knowing Jake just made whatever problem you were about to have his own. Your eyebrows shoot up as you gesture to the man behind him.

"Shrimp dick over there decided to grope me. When I didn't let it slide he threatened to knock me out cold." You explain, eyes still on the threat.

The man points his finger angrily in your direction, ignoring the blonde pilot. "Watch your fucking mouth."

Jake visibly tenses and you laugh at the man, fully aware of the mistake he just made. It's one thing for you to tell Jake about it, but for someone to have the balls to disrespect and threaten you in front of him?

You shake your head at the man. "Now you've really got a problem." You mock and Jake slowly turns around. The two men are about the same size, though Jake is clearly more muscular. Not that it matters, Jake would lay a 10-foot giant out on their ass for talking to you like that.

The only thing scarier than a loud angry Jake is a calm angry Jake. Every word and movement is precise and calculated. He stares the man down for a second before speaking slowly.

"Apologize." He isn't asking, he's telling. "For what?" The man laughs and Jake feels his blood boil.

"For touching my wife without her permission and then threatening to hurt her. And for swearing at a lady. Where I'm from those are justified grounds for murder." His voice is low and it sends shivers up your spine.

"And if I don't?" The man scoffs and Jake takes another step forward, now fully in the stranger's personal space. "Then I'll make you." He cracks his neck and pops his wrists and elbows. That should've been this asshole's sign to walk away.

By now you've noticed a crowd forming and the rest of the dagger squad are making their way over. You see two men heading your way and can immediately tell they're this dick's backup.

You reach forward and press a hand gently to his shoulder. "Jake." You try to get his attention but he doesn't take his eyes off his target. "I see them. I'm not worried about it." He knows he's got his own backup, and they outnumber the three men twofold.

You shake your head. "No, I know. It's Penny I'm worried about if you start a brawl in her bar." You feel Rooster and Maverick's presence and they push you behind them protectively. Phoenix interlocks her arm with yours and pulls you back further so neither of you are in the line of fire.

The three men take in their opponents and weigh their options. After a couple minutes, the one that started it looks at you. "You're lucky you have backup, bitch."

Not even a second passes before you hear a loud crack followed by a thud. Your eyes widen at the heap laying on the ground. Jake threw a right hook from hell and the man was out before his body could catch up. You're no doctor, but you'd guess his jaw is broken.

Jake doesn't even flinch at the impact, instead turning to the two remaining men. He doesn't bother to move back or put his hands up to block any attacks. Your body tingles when you realize it's because he's so confident that he doesn't even feel the need to play defense.

"Anyone else?" He smirks and the men quickly shake their heads and grab their friend to drag him out. Once the three of them are gone, the bar erupts in cheers.

Jake turns to face you and you jump up in his arms with a squeal. He laughs and you start attacking his face with kisses. You pull back after a few seconds and he smiles brightly at you.

Your eyes are filled with worry and you cup both of his cheeks. "Are you okay?"

Jake's heart swells at your concern for him and he gives you a sweet kiss. "Just fine, sweet cheeks. I've been boxing in the gym since you like to run your mouth so much." He smirks.

Your mouth drops open and you stare at him in disbelief. "You've been training to protect me?" He laughs at your reaction and slides his hands down to your ass.

"I'd do anything to protect you. Sooner or later you're going to piss off the wrong person and I need to be sure I can beat the shit out of them." He shrugs.

"Well aren't you my knight in shining armor?" You tease and Jake shakes his head. "More like knight in a flight suit." He smirks before continuing.

"Seriously though, you don't need a knight to save you. You're a badass in your own right. But I wouldn't be a good husband if I let you fight your battles alone."

You smile at the sentiment and lean in for another kiss. "I love you. Thank you." He shrugs again and kisses you on your cheek. "I love you too sweets. You don't need to thank me, it's my pleasure."

Taglist:

@drakelover78

#jake seresin #Jake seresin imagine #jake seresin top gun #Jake seresin x reader #hangman #hangman imagine #hangman top gun #hangman x reader #protective jake #protective hangman #Jake seresin protective #hangman protective

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loganlermanstanaccount · 6 months

Text

please don't kill me mr ghostface (part 1)

(AO3 Mirror), (Main Masterlist), (Kinktober '23 Masterlist)

(Part 2 - coming soon!)

pairing: stalker!Miguel x f!reader, slight yandere undertones. (he's a murderer lowkey but very gentle and sweet and scary hot that's all guys I promise.)

summary: murders on campus. the odd toothbrush goes missing. what's new, honestly. life keeps ticking and you end up at a Halloween party somewhere you shouldn't. there, you meet a gorgeous man in a strange mask. he seems sweet, and all you're looking for is a bit of fun. what could go wrong?

warnings: 18+ , fingering, anal play (mig eats ass, send tweet!) , rimming, p in v, soft dom mig, some switchy + needy behaviour, mild threat of violence (not by mig), alcohol consumption. Minors DNI

a/n: 5k words of ignoring red flags. girl get a grip!

wc: 5.2k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You look too good to feel this shitty.

That's the thought you're left with, picking at flimsy spiderwebs draped on a sofa. Sandwiched between two couples making out like their life depends on it, of course, but that's beside the point.

“Someone said there's CCTV of a guy walking out the building at 3am… seems a little convenient, if you ask me…”

There's a TV on in the background, barely cutting through the dense chatter. By this point, your eyes have glazed over, trying not to let them rattle around in your skull. Drunken conversation around you, and it's the same thing as always; long, winding tales of a campus killer - the kind out of a cheesy slasher. What the news says, officially, is that there weren't any links between those 3 bodies that turned up out on the playing field, an empty dorm, a supply closet; but it hasn't stopped people from indulging in wild speculation.

“No, no, she just didn't turn up to my Econ class….I swear–”

Stay in pairs. Don't walk alone at night. Whilst you think it's all tangential at best, you're not one to tempt fate. The gossip, you could do without. But it doesn't hurt to keep yourself safe, pepper spray nestled in your usual bag.

Tonight, however, you've left it at home, thinking the friends you came with would be enough. Somewhere, somehow, they're off chugging shit beer and you're milling about the place and sinking into couch cushions. There's something sticky by the seat, and there's a crackle as you're jostled - the sharp edge of a stray elbow almost knocks your drink away.

Fuck.

For one night only, you're a cheerleader. A short, short skirt and little top; it has you feeling overdressed. Even though you've left the pompoms at home, next to your taser; seemingly, you've read the mood wrong - stupidly assuming people would dress up for a Halloween party. As you make your way to the kitchen, tugging down your skirt here and there, that's all you can see; half-hearted costumes - cat ears, white sheets and flimsy masks. It feels like you stick out in comparison. You've gone all out, with nothing but the threat of a beer sodden lap for your trouble.

It's a big house. Alpha-delta-phi, kappa-something-or-the-other; a frat with too much money and too much time on their hands. With all the doors you walk past, shallow thuds and thumping ringing out behind them, you're as good as lost. The best ragers this side of campus - as raved about by one of your friends. It feels like bucketfuls of horseshit right now, wandering around packed halls - and oh. Is that the same staircase?

“ Fuck, watch it!” You clatter into the side of an arm, a t-shirt with a superman symbol emblazoned at the chest. He's pretty, but his features curl into a sudden sneer.

" Sorry –" You start but he doesn't let you finish, wagging a thick finger in your face.

There's a girl draped on his arm, merely watching as he shouts; loud over pumping music from the next room over.

"Hey, dipshit , you gonna keep staring? Mouth open like a fucking fish– do you know how much this shit costs?" Your eyes are wide, as he gets closer - stinking of alcohol and pot and God knows what else. You're not drunk enough to entertain this, shirking away from confrontation. The room is hot, his breath is sticky , and–

He grabs your arm. Immediately you're trying to wrench yourself away, not daring to look into blown pupils. Clammy, his grip tightens on bare skin and your stomach churns. He's solid, bigger than you and unable to keep the anger out of his voice…. and fuck. You're scared.

Fear, rising like bile at the back of your throat. Bitter and sharp, fear at the fact that there isn't anyone to help; that everyone else looks away and pretends that this isn't happening. Fear at the spittle that sprays from his mouth like poison, stinging skin. You screw your eyes shut, expecting a slap, a blow, or something worse and then…

Thud. The hand around your wrist is no more, replaced by a gentle pat on your shoulder. Nothing lingering, just a light touch to get you to open your eyes; to see that guy on the floor, clutching at a swollen jaw and split lip.

"You okay? "

It's deep, muffled by a mask, and the figure in front of you has to crouch to be heard over incessant chatter.

You're nodding, sheepishly, not trusting yourself to keep that edge out of your voice.

Ghostface, the masked man, the only other person at this party properly dressed up; he only cocks his head in a gesture that says a thousand words. His robe pools around his wrists, thick fabric that you grab onto without thinking, grip just as tight as your would-be assailant. You don't even want to think about it, what could've happened if someone hadn't stepped in. It has you biting back tears, more shaken than you'd like to admit.

"H-Hey, hey, easy…" He's rubbing little circles into your shoulder, hesitant. Your lip wobbles, ever so slightly, but he catches it, gently pulling you aside.

There isn't a crowd. The stragglers, those that saw the display, barely look at the guy on the floor, scrambling to his feet and far away. In the meantime, you fight off tears and force yourself to flash a shaky smile.

"Good. " You croak, taking his hands off your shoulders. "F-Fuck , I mean… I'm good. Thank you."

He doesn't quite budge, giving you that strange look again. At least, you think so, rearing up to his full height to cross his arms. Quiet incredulity, almost cartoonish, and it almost makes you laugh. Almost.

"Let me get you a drink… some water, or something." He says, stretching out a gloved hand. Sensing your hesitance, he quickly adds, "... Please ."

Chewing your lip, you only have to think for a second before taking it, and you're led out through double doors. Your masked man is big; broad shouldered and hulking, cutting through the writhing mass with ease. It's just as well, you think, unable to sort through the tangle of things that rattle around in your head. You hate this fucking school, sometimes. Boys will be boys. Wear more appropriate clothing. Well, wasn't she just asking for it? A culture of inaction; of hand-wringing and hand-waving… passing on the blame until three dead bodies show up on campus.

That's one thing you have to thank the so-called serial killer for, at least. At least something might actually change around here.

Empty, the kitchen is a mess, but nothing you wouldn't expect. Drink long gone; a distant memory spilled on a carpet, somewhere; you perch awkwardly around a counter, not knowing where to put your hands. Rattled, you've resorted to a glassy stare; stewing and festering and thinking so intensely it might frighten off your masked man.

It doesn't. He merely taps you, a gentle elbow to your side and he offers you a glass of water. Weakly, you give him a smile, gulping up the liquid.

"You here by yourself ?" He asks, muffled by plastic.

You can't help it, eyes wide at the implication - a masked man, a killer on campus - and he must realise the way it sounds.

In no time at all, he clarifies, "I just mean… fuck … is there someone I can call? So you're not alone."

It's a kind gesture. Kinder than you'd expect from a stranger. Slowly, you shake your head.

"They ditched me about an hour ago." You give a bitter laugh. "Just me and you, Mr Ghostface."

And with that he laughs; deep and sonorous, causing heat to bloom at your chest. Despite yourself, you smile, and you swear you see a glint of something behind the mask.

It has you itching for a drink. All of a sudden you make your way across the room, swiping at empty beer bottles and cans, rummaging around for some hard liquor. When you find it - a half empty bottle of something that smells like carpet cleaner and acetone - you're taking a swig, and offering it to the man across from you. It's sneaky, but you don't think he clocks your paltry attempt to see what he looks like under that mask.

He shakes his head, hands up in defeat.

"You sure?" Your voice is lilting, hazy around the edges. Creeping up closer, you press your body to his, taking another unceremonious gulp. Under that cloak - heavy, somewhat well made - you can feel him, lean and cut muscle that tenses as you get closer.

Batting your eyelashes, you make full use of the cheerleader get-up, snaking a dainty hand to his side, and then up to the counter. If you didn't know any better, you'd think he was ogling you, chest taught and tight at the way you feel against him.

Or maybe, he's bored as shit. You wouldn't know - with the mask, and all.

Wobbly, you clamber up onto the counter, helped up by a gentle hand at the small of your back… and oh. You like that: big, thick fingers that press into you, carefully tracing your waist… and why won't they go down a little further? Grab handfuls of the flesh at your thighs, your ass, everything in between?

He's too conservative for that, you think. Nervous, too. Nevertheless, he slots between your thighs, big palms flat next to your ass.

"I… I don't mind watching." He says, voice low.

It makes you giggle as you drink, sweet and soft, and liquid dribbles past your lips, down to collarbone. Mr Ghostface is gentle, tracing a finger across the juncture of your neck, light pressure on the vein that sits nice and pretty at its side.

It goes to your head. The alcohol, the large man of few words with a hand on your neck. When he finishes swiping at the liquid and pulls his hand away, you curl your hand around his, bringing it to your lips. Pert lips wrap around his finger, tongue swiping over leather, and you swear you can hear his breath hitch - heart clearly skipping a beat.

"Careful…" You say, leaning forward to press your tits against him, brushing away imaginary fluff from his shoulders. "I really like this costume."

"I like it too." He clears his throat. "You look nice."

"Nice? Is that all I get, Mr Ghostface?" You're teasing, tracing up his broad chest to his neck and then just under his chin. Carefully, you hook a finger under the thin strap of his mask, tugging ever-so gently.

Quickly, he stops you.

"Not yet, sweetheart."

You pout, flashing him a frustrated look - and God , does he want to kiss it off of you.

"But soon?"

"If you're good." You swear you can hear him smile, hands wrapping around your waist.

You get a bit bolder, hand tracing up his sleeve, clutching at thick, corded forearm. Watching intently as he keens, pushing you to the edge of the kitchen counter with only one hand at your back. This close, you even like the way he smells, like rust and oil and earth, the way he feels around you; strong arms caging you in, protecting you. You feel safe, for some reason.

When he sighs into you, exposing a sliver of tan neck, you feel your knees go weak - unable to stop yourself from mouthing at it, pressing little kisses into the skin. He seems so sensitive, rocking into the counter for some pressure already, clutching you closer and closer until there's a hickey blooming just under sharp jawline.

"Fuck- " He hisses, pawing at your waist a little more desperately.

Suddenly self conscious, you separate with a wet smack, and inspect your handiwork.

"Shit." Eyes wide, you press a finger into the flesh. Your masked man winces. "M'sorry. Got carried away."

He heaves, placing his head on your shoulder for a moment, trying to catch his breath.

"It's fine," He strains. "Don't worry… s'fine."

Admittedly, he doesn't seem too fine, adjusting what feels like a painful hard-on beneath a loose cloak.

Cradling his head so he can look at you, you whisper something bold, even for someone who's downed more than a couple shots worth of cheap liquor.

"I know somewhere… I-I think … that we could go if you wanted to…" His head lolls, and you hear him swallow roughly. "Somewhere quiet . We'd be alone. Just us."

A beat passes and you think you might've read this wrong, much too forward for your own good. It’s why he surprises you by nodding - slowly, at first, and then with more conviction. Taking your hand, he snakes it under his mask, and you almost gasp when you feel soft, plump lips at your knuckles and palm, pressing shaky kisses to the skin.

“I need to do something first.” He says it so quietly, you almost miss it under the mask. “Where can I meet you?”

You don’t ask questions.

“Pool house.” You nod towards the windows, overlooking a sizable pool. People mill about its edges, but you know the little house is off-limits for the night. “Side entrance. They… leave it unlocked, sometimes.”

He doesn’t ask questions.

Before he goes, he snakes a hand under your skirt, giving your ass a sizable squeeze - leaving you breathless.

You don’t feel the cold as you slip out, playing with a loose thread at the hem of your skirt. The side entrance is stiff but unlocked, and you duck past a screen, head on a swivel. Like a good girl, you sit on plush cushions, thighs pressed together to relieve a pressure that has been building since you met your masked man. And you want to touch yourself; to circle that little bud with clumsy fingers, imagining it was him.

You wait. And you wait. You settle between the cushions, adjust your skirt, look at your hair through a makeshift mirror - the glossy surface of windows overlooking the pool. Not wanting to risk turning on the lights, you wander past what little streams in from across the pool; flashing and pounding with the heady bass of music. You can't help but wonder where he's gone, if he's even coming, and what he had to do so desperately that he'd leave you wanting more.

At this point, you don't even care if he takes off his mask. You don't want to know a name, or see the real man underneath the costume. You just want him; writhing underneath as you bounce on his fat cock.

"Hey."

That voice makes you jump, swiveling to face him. How did he get in without you noticing? He was so quiet, so–

"Missed you." He says it so soft, it makes you melt, walking slowly towards him. Shrouded in shadow, as you get closer you notice he's shed his cloak, donned in a white t-shirt and straight leg jeans. Big boots, thick with fresh mud, thud onto the tile. When you meet, two figures cut by bright light, you almost gasp. He's taken off the mask. Instead of Mr Ghostface, you're met with a man - and he is so, so beautiful .

Tan skin. High cheekbones, a jaw that could cut glass. His hair is haphazardly slicked back, fluffy and curly in all the right places. But it's his eyes: mischievous and glinting and serious all at the same time - absolutely gorgeous. You could look at him like this forever; chest heaving, messy, out of breath.

Your hand comes to his chest. He’s hot to the touch, clasping his great big hand atop yours. Squeezing, he pulls you closer, other hand creeping up bare thigh, before hooking under your ass in a move that makes you squeal.

From this close, his lashes look so pretty; wispy and romantic and yearning.

"You look beautiful.” He doesn’t kiss you, not yet, content with only watching - studying you with sharp eyes. “Always do."

All you hear are the compliments, too tipsy to notice what the stranger implies. You're not usually one for a one night stand, but he is intoxicating - intense in a way that's hard to explain.

Carding one hand through the curls at the nape of his neck, you press your lips to his in a kiss that starts off sweet and quickly deepens. He is hungry and devouring; licking up your moans with plump lips.

You lead him to the sofa, only separating for fleeting breaths. Eyes low, illuminated by a flash of light here and there; you force yourself to concentrate on him , shuddering breaths and all. He’s hard, rocking into your lower half splayed out beneath him and arms caged around your head. It’s sly, but you snake a hand past his t-shirt, across his back and then fumble with the belt. It makes him smile, soft laughter spilling into your parted lips; before he sits up above you.

“You want it that bad, huh?” Windswept, he croons, batting away your hands to unbuckle the clasp himself.

You groan, shifting upwards. You don’t notice the way his eyes dart down, eying up the peek of thigh that spills out of little shorts.

“Say it f’me, sweetheart.” He hikes up your skirt, exposing your covered cunt. He’s gentle, pawing at the flesh, pressing the heel of his palm right above your clit.

“F-Fuck!” The pressure is delicious, and you roll your hips up, up, up; chasing some semblance of relief. When he stops, you whine - clutching at his forearm, frustrated. “Want it, please .”

“Want what?” He prompts, lifting his shirt over his head in one quick movement. You’re met with the wide span of his chest, muscle taut and tight above you.

“Want you in me. I want… I want you to fuck me ‘til I break, pound my fucking hole so hard I can feel it in the morning. I want– ”

You’re babbling, now, spurred on by the way he tugs off black shorts, lifting up your legs to slip them off. He’s too slow, clearly enjoying watching you squirm and writhe.

“You can have it, sweetheart.” He coos, before capturing you into another kiss. This time, he separates and you follow him up; finally parting with a wet smack. “I’ll give you whatever you want, however you want it… but you gotta do something first.”

“ Anything .” You breathe.

“Fuck yourself, for me. I…I–”

“You like to watch.” You finish it for him, breathless.

“Please.” His head dips low; big, red-brown eyes never leaving yours.

The way he says it leaves you panting, hung off of every word. And you croon, leaning back into couch cushions, already hot at the way he kneads his thumbs to the flesh near your pussy. This close, he can see the way your cunt pulses, eating up a tiny thong between glistening lips. He’s kneeling on the floor, now, snaking his body around to get a perfect view, flashing looks between both your pretty lips.

More than willing to oblige, you pat at your clit, sending sweet pleasure coursing through your lower half. Even though your legs tremble, he holds you down, placing gentle kisses to your inner thighs. Slipping your thong to the side, you dip two fingers past your slit, gathering up slick to press carefully into your hole.

“So… so pretty. ” He sighs, not daring to close his eyes despite the pleasure he feels. When you notice how his other hand is buried in his pants; jerking up and down to match your pace. You start slow, for now, pumping two fingers in and out, heel of your palm snug against your clit. The sounds are obscene, the wet schlick-schlick ringing out in the quiet room.

“Prettiest fucking thing I’ve ever s-seen.” Your stranger moans, slathering over your thighs with sloppy kisses, occasionally swiping at your knuckles. Lower and lower, as you get faster and faster, his tongue makes you feel amazing. You’re close - entranced by your spot in the limelight and the sharp eyes that watch every ministration.

It’s only when you’re knuckle deep, well and truly fucking yourself ; chasing something just out of reach with his help; when two things happen, catching you by surprise. The first, the one that sends electricity down your spine, that makes you jolt and shiver and almost cum right then and there…

…is a wet kiss pressed to your asshole. He slathers and slobbers and licks large stripes up and down; ripping a great moan out from you. He doesn’t stop there, spreading the globes of your ass to delve deeper, tongue-fucking you as your hand stills - unable to concentrate on anything else. Pornographic, he humps his lower half to the same pace, sealing his mouth over your hole. With the vibrations of his moans sending pleasure straight to your clit, you finally cum - a rolling, bubbling orgasm that ends just as intensely.

The second thing that happens, just as you fall off the edge, is that you’re plunged into darkness. The lights from across the pool, once bright and flashing; are cut off. The music stops, and chatter dies down. Your stranger holds you through it, licking up cum from your neglected cunt, whispering sweet things into the skin.

“There it is, baby. Nice n’ slow.” He soothes as you whimper, hand tight in his hair.

In the dark, you’re heaving, feeling him slow down as your cunt clenches around nothing, empty. Shaky, you sit up on your haunches as he follows you up.

“Is everything…? What happened?” You’re a little panicked, shaken up from your orgasm.

“You’re okay, you’re okay. ” He rubs little circles into bare skin. “Too much?”

You shake your head, nuzzling into him. He gives your forehead a kiss, and you feel warmth bloom across your chest.

He shifts. “Just give it a…”

As if on cue, a generator whirs to life, flooding the little room in red light. Something similar seems to happen across the pool, as you take a quick glance to the window.

Your head is a little fuzzy. It aches as you catch his eye, looking at you intently.

“Do you want to stop? We don’t have to–”

“No.” You say it resolutely, with so much force it even catches you off guard. “I want to.”

“Fuck.” He mutters, brows pressed together imperceptibly.

For someone you’ve just met, he still looks at you like ice about to melt, like he’s bearing witness to the last breaths of a dying star. He looks at you like he knows you; like he knows how many half-truths and one-night stands you’ve had to endure. It makes you shiver; here, bathed in crimson light, pressed against one another.

He starts with your lips, a gentle thumb pressed flat, and then deeper, deeper, deeper. It’s like before, you realise, the taste of liquor and leather long gone. He keeps his eyes on you, careful as he pops the thumb out, groaning at the length of spit that comes with a flash of your pink tongue. You splay yourself out underneath him, drinking in the sight above; your stranger, your masked man once upon a time, shirtless and breathless and rock hard against your cunt. Now, he tugs down black boxers, its band cut across his torso just so. Thick hair; dark, curly, neatly trimmed; and you reach to trace down his happy trail, to get a hand on his pretty cock.

He just watches , eyes dark, leaning forward to rock into your soft palm and put his mouth on the skin that pillows out from a tight crop top. To give him more access, you tug it down, exposing sensitive nipple. And then that tongue; searching, inquisitive, precise; wraps itself around the flesh. You keen - a pretty moan that has his heart fluttering and eyes clasped shut.

“Inside.” At first, it’s a whisper, said in the throes of deep pleasure. You repeat it, slowing your hand at his cock.

When he doesn’t answer; still slathering at your tits, pawing the flesh that spills out from your costume; you tug, a sharp thing that has him moaning and sitting up on his haunches.

“Said I wanted you inside, baby.” You say - and his breaths are deep, his eyes are wild. “Do you want it? Do you want me?”

“A-Always….course I— ” He stops himself, chewing at the inside of his cheek. Finally, he nods and you continue, satisfied.

“Watch.” You titter, reaching down to line him up; carefully gathering slick up at the head of his cock. His tip weeps; shuddering like your stranger does above, getting close and hitching up you up to stay flush against you. His eyes stay trained downward. Inside, he mouths at your neck, groaning once his cock sinks into your fluttering hole.

There’s a tightening grip at your hips, big hands bunching up the skirt to keep you close, with a careful pressure at your clit. That sends heat coursing through your veins, tasting deep crimson in the air. He fucks; up close and humping like he wants to crawl into your skin, with a fervour you’ve never encountered before. It has you hot and sticky, desperate for that biting edge that keeps slipping from dainty fingers. You start to put a hand at your clit, tracing between your bodies when a strong hand pulls it away. Firm.

“No, no, no…” He whispers it, putting your wandering hand to his face, kissing the palm.

“Please. ” You whine. “M’close. So close.”

You feel him twitch inside, hips stuttering at your tone.

“No.” He says it again, resolute. “I’m going to make you cum. Gonna make you feel so good, sweetheart… just… just be patient. Please. For me .”

You’re reaching up for a kiss, of which he obliges. This time, it stays sweet; pink tongues swiped over lips.

“Look at me.” His hips shift, changing angles to hit that sweet spot like you’ve been moulded to his dick - like he knows just where to touch you to make you fall apart. “Look at me, hermosa. Ohh f-fuck, you take me so well… so pretty. You gonna milk my cock? Feels so good around me, sweetheart, like you were made for me. Like we’re ... L-Like–”

You groan, unable to tear yourself away from his writhing form: strong, lean muscles, tensing in the red light. And oh, isn’t he pretty, mere moments away from release, from spilling thick cum inside you.

“M’gonna–”

“I know, I know, hermosa. ” You like the way he says it, rolling off his tongue like honey; treacled and sweet. “Cum f’me, sweetheart. Want to feel you clamp around my cock. Cum for me. ”

And just like that, you’re gone; nails digging into his back as you careen off a steep cliff’s edge. Your stranger quickly follows, pulling out to wrap a tight hand around the base of his cock, spilling onto your stomach as you clench around nothing.

You’re whining, getting ready to complain; why hasn’t he come inside? why doesn’t he want to stay?; when he stills, settling by your side. Propped up by one arm, he crouches down to stroke at your cheek, to touch your jaw, moving your head this way and that - as if he’s looking for something hidden behind bright eyes.

In the red of the emergency lights, you suppose you’re looking for something too. A beat passes, and then another. The generator splutters, whirring and coughing. The lights turn off; replaced by the noise and white lights from across the pool.

So lost in one another, you hadn’t quite noticed; everything else falling away.

He clears his throat, clambering off of the sofa and tugging up his trousers. Quickly, he returns, a bundle of towels draped across his bare shoulders, and then he wipes off the cum - gently, separating sweaty limbs. Your costume is more or less intact, but you’re unable to do more than just lay there. He’s diligent and patient, not in any sort of rush. When you sit up, he pulls on a shirt, kneeling by your legs to play with a loose thread at your skirt. Too intimate, you suppose. With his head on your lap, you don’t think you care.

“We should leave.” You say it first, what’s been left in the air for someone else to pick apart.

“We should.”

“Can’t leave together.” You say simply, curling a hand in his hair.

Humming, he looks up lazily, with a hint of a smile. “You go first.”

Neither of you make a move to get up.

“Mr Ghostface,” You start, giggling. “What happened to your mask?”

“Lost it.” He’s cryptic. Finally, he stands.

Your stranger stretches out a rough palm, and you take it, getting up on shaky legs. You almost collapse onto his chest, but he’s there; solid, stoic. Looking up, and it catches you off guard: the intensity of his stare, how he watches in a way that makes you feel stripped bare.

“You first.” He repeats, still holding on.

He’s pretty. Of course he is, but the shadow and light makes his features even more pronounced. In the quiet, you take the opportunity to catch him off guard; standing on tip-toes to press a quick kiss to his cheek. Jaw tight, he doesn’t react the way you want him to: ever-still, passive. Fuck. You’ve read it wrong: not used to the intensity of this kind of foray. After all: a one night stand seems too reductive, doesn’t quite span the depths and furrows of how your stranger has taken you apart. Finally, you leave the strange man still standing in the pool house. You don’t dare to look, but you can feel him; the weight of his stare at your back.

You can feel his hands, too; the ghost of his touch lingering as you make your way back to the house, mingling with the crowd.

~~~

You don’t tell your friends. You make your back home after the party, bundled into a taxi with a hand tight around your own wrist. It doesn’t feel like his hand on yours - not even close.

“I didn’t actually fuck him yesterday!” Your friend tugs on your sleeve, giggling into your shoulder as she recounts her night. A debrief with the girls turns into hungover breakfast-bleeding-into-lunch at your dorm. They’re bundled onto the sheets, some eating greasy takeout and others nursing bludgeoning headaches.

You’re fine, mostly. A little bit of liquid courage, but your hangover pales in comparison to some - catatonic on your rug and scrolling through their phone in a limbo-like state.

“You didn’t fuck him, but you wanted to.” Someone pipes up, and the conversation devolves into raucous laughter.

You laugh, tucked into yourself. The wonders of a half-dozen sophomores during Halloween - able to grin despite the shit storm that’s been mounting. Campus killers notwithstanding - they make you smile, at least.

“Were you there towards the end?” Someone asks, poking an elbow at your side. “When there was that blackout?”

You nod, simply - not trusting yourself to say more.

“I-I mean…” Her voice is suddenly shaky, thrusting a phone into your unsuspecting hands. “Well… they’re saying it must have happened then, or around that time.”

You squint, confused.

“And it could’ve been anyone, I suppose. There were like, what, a hundred people there? More? ”

“What?”

“A body. They found a body - by the pool house, or something…”

Miguel taglist: @d1lf-loverrr, @afro-hispwriter @ilovemiguelohara @weedxgirlx420 @ladydovahkiin180 @aaliyuh3 @sweetanimebakery @vvitcxen @rosecoloredlenses708 @daikondal @magikmina @impettywhenyouare @alonelygirlsuicidenote @plushyplants @javi0ca @rheeves @starrfruit @nikirikii @marsbars09 @foxglove-grove @mimooyi @crosshairclown @dead-by-light @kynamitedessert @naarra @wanderlustingcastaway @sagejin @cookielovesbook-akie @tangerineloverrr @gobblegluckgluckgod @wolfiepirate @jxxey3 @ebrysteria @elliemm @manchuria @youngghostpeachslime @weasleybuns

@ilovemuppets @vauriz @bonbyon @aimno256 @ancientbeing10 @tvije @venus1224idkpleaze @neteyamsbulletwound @chickenjefferson-blog @maki-z @jasjasthings @aiyaaayei @hyp-oh-critical @tea-earl-grey-thot @sunset-euphoria @moonsio @akiras-key@szaplsdropthealbum@levanneisdumb @naiya-patel17 @Serostapesweat @strawberrymiguel @yumeeesss @errorundyne-exe @spear-bitch @redsoleily @marsissoswag @slezhara @ye4gerzz @adlct515 @nanam1 @indigocookie @cincocosas-blog @starguiders @path0logicalpeoplepleaser@funkyfishy@whoreloll@eugeab@tarjapearce@maddielikesmoths@egotaestical

#miguel o'hara x reader #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara #kinktober #miguel o hara x reader #spiderman 2099 #kat_writes😼

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jethrowest · 8 days

Text

let me see you stripped down to the bone…

- stripped by depeche mode

congratulations! you’ve been hired as homelander’s entire glam squad! what an opportunity! now let’s try real hard not to let the fumes get to you, okay?

pairing : homelander/afab reader

word count : 5.6k

warnings : homelander in and of himself, toxic workplace environment, something akin to stockholm syndrome, fingering, smut. 18+, mdni

special thanks to @blindmagdalena @sehtoast @homeb0ys and @clockworkzeppelin for letting me scream at you about this!

writing tag

gif credit

divider credit

Homelander is an asshole.

That doesn’t bother you much. You’ve dealt with plenty in this field, which means you’ve learned how to make life easier for all parties. That particular learning curve includes when to stand out and blend in, at times concurrently depending on what variety of asshole they happen to be.

As a whole, the makeup artists and hairstylists at Vought take care of The Seven and go where they’re needed. And as a cosmetologist, you were hired to provide both services for Homelander and Homelander only, which you consider to be one of the most prestigious stamps one could add to their professional passport.

Before you became official, you were colorfully threatened by a Ms. Ashley Barrett, who, after the fact, had no qualms throwing you into the lion’s den to figure your own shit out.

In no uncertain terms were you told that if you fucked any part of this up, your sparkling resume would look best as something to sit her smooth, bare ass on while getting fucked on top of her desk. No lube or protection. It would then be tossed exactly like her salad.

Not an image you could have ever predicted crossing your mind. Honestly, you should have stopped her right there and walked your happy little ass out of her office toward pastures that might have not been greener (you were being handsomely compensated), but certainly not as toxic. While the red flags were a color you couldn’t quite ignore, you were also curious about why they stood out so much more than they did regarding previous employers.

None of this is to say you live under a rock. Anyone who has access to the internet is ambushed daily by these Supes’ personal lives. Homelander’s track record as far as choice in partners went hadn’t been ideal, so you understand that made him less popular at the time. That of course has nothing to do with you or your capabilities.

You opt to wear gray-colored glasses, seeing everything with a neutral blend of black and white. As much as possible anyway.

Nevertheless, curiosity killed the cat. But hopefully not your career.

The first day was awkward to say the least. Immediately, you knew you weren’t going to like your coworkers.

Glints of sympathy changed how they perceived you. A target, whether they intended for this to happen or not, was nailed to your forehead, and it made them buzz around you like avid, greedy wasps keen on seeing how rapidly the honeybee will be brutalized. You didn’t much care for going cross-eyed while staring at that target whenever you crossed paths. They didn’t know you, yet because of who you were working under, deemed you helpless. They didn’t give you a chance to establish yourself before branding you a victim.

Why should you respect them?

Small talk wasn’t entertained either, as their judgment tarnished any future encounters. They ostracized you once you showed no interest in engaging with them. That didn’t disappoint you. You weren’t here to make friends.

You do wonder how those before you fared: if they were jaded when they arrived or if they couldn’t help but succumb to the pressures of being at the top rung of a very unstable albeit sought after ladder.

Ms. Barrett quickly introduced you to Homelander, her parting gift before leaving the two of you alone.

You weren’t completely nervous in his presence. He wasn’t any different to you than the other celebrities you’d worked on, except he could rip you in half like a piece of paper if he was so inclined. But he’s the hero of this country’s story, so really, you should have nothing to worry about.

His demeanor, you noted, suggested arrogance, annoyance, and boredom. All things you’re used to. So you offered your hand to shake, which he eyed with a slightly upturned nose before grabbing, told him it was a pleasure to meet him and got straight to business.

Looking back, he was clearly expecting more out of you. Maybe not a display as excessive as getting on your knees and professing your undying love, but close enough. Somewhere in the middle, perhaps.

Part of you believes he might have also counted on fear. To you, he’s not anything or anyone unknown. Another big name in a fancy suit with impossible demands.

You were given a routine to follow and products to use. You did as you were instructed and found the process to be simple and, as Homelander’s expression revealed, uninspiring.

While you were utilizing a face brush to apply powder, he must have decided he was done enduring your lack of enthusiasm, because he suddenly asked, “What are you wearing?”

You stopped for a split second, no longer than, and continued. “The name of my clothing designer, you mean?”

He scoffed, waving his gloved hand at you, almost knocking the applicator you held to the ground. “No, your perfume. What are the top notes?”

You laughed and that seemed to confuse him. “Why, you want a bottle?”

“I don’t like it.” He sniffed sharply and cleared his throat. “Smells like you should be on the corner selling your used body parts.”

Ding ding ding. Alarm bells and red flags galore. You enjoy a challenge, however, and are a bit of a masochist, so you persevere.

“Well, what doesn’t smell like a cheap hooker to you? I’ll start wearing that instead.”

He cocked a brow, studying you. Trying to figure out if you were being serious or mocking him.

“It’s your first day.” A warning. “Are you on your best behavior, or can you do better?” He leaned forward in his chair, forcing you backward. “You should be working harder to prove yourself. Prove your worth.” He sat back again and shrugged. “Or maybe you really are worth as much as that dumpster juice you doused yourself in.”

At this point, he more than likely envisioned your happy little ass getting offended and storming out of the room. Breaking down, sobbing. Questioning why he was being so rude. One of those or, better yet, a nifty combination.

You’ve heard worse, unfortunately for him. Not always directed at you, but that doesn’t matter. You can handle it.

“You’re absolutely right,” you stated calmly, folding your arms across your chest. He looked at you with pretentious, petulant intrigue. “It is my first day, and I want to make a good impression. Which is why I’m asking you what you would like me to wear so I can continue to keep that good impression intact and, as our professional relationship develops, stay on top of it.”

Homelander’s mouth twitched. He sighed deeply and slouched in his seat, staring at the wall to the left of him. Then he deigned to cast his gaze back at you, resting his cheek on his index and middle finger. He tapped the arm rest with his other hand.

“Ugh, fine. Whatever.” A pause followed that lasted longer than necessary. Were you meant to guess? “Just wear something, I dunno, less. If you would have done your homework like a good little peon, you’d know I have super senses. Highly developed. Can you even imagine what that entails?”

Finally, he freed the canvas you were nearly finished with, and you flicked the soft bristles across the bridge of his nose. You smiled, more to yourself than him.

Felt rather on the nose, as the saying goes.

He didn’t comment on your grin. You didn’t give him time to. But he did huff like you were being obtuse on purpose.

“I can try. And my imagination is giving me some less-than-ideal scenarios,” you replied. Another pause. At least he was letting you do your job again.

You don’t know what compelled you to keep going, but something about his lack of a real answer made you carry on. “Do you have a favorite flower or baked good? Maybe a spice?”

Homelander almost glared up at you. You say almost because, for whatever reason, it didn’t seem like he was directing that harshness at you, though former words and actions proved otherwise. Something inside, perhaps. Or outside of this enclosed space.

“I already told you what to wear. Don’t make me repeat myself.”

You took the hint and remained quiet the rest of your session. Soon, you were done.

As you were packing and tidying up your station, he took it upon himself to stand behind you. He lingered over your shoulder, watching the scene play out like he was director and star and you were barely an ant on the sidewalk he acknowledged before squashing.

The heat radiating off of him was impossible to dismiss, a wall of it barricading your backside. He clasped his fingers underneath his cape and inched closer. You thought he was as close to you as he could get without touching you. He was that warm.

When you glanced up, he was staring at you through the mirror. As absurd as it was, you managed to get chills. Goosebumps broke the surface of your skin.

“Fresh chocolate chip cookies. Straight out of the oven. Like mom used to make.” He flashed an unnerving smile before turning to exit.

From there on out, even after you bent to his will and found a gourmand scent that matched what he described, Homelander tested you. Your work ethic, clothing choice, eating habits, and most of all, patience.

Your parents would ask how you were liking your job, how it was working alongside the Supes- not to mention the most famous of all- and you’d lie through your teeth. You felt you had no choice, Ashley’s threat ringing in your ears.

Resume, bare ass, tossed salad...

Oh yeah, it’s going great! They’re all super flexible. I couldn’t be happier!

At least that pun made you feel a little better about hiding the shame of what you’ve allowed yourself to take on.

This was all in the first few weeks. It started to get a little easier after that, which is surprising considering more was added to your to-do list.

You should have moved on before starting. But, for whatever asinine reason, you didn’t.

Every time you go back to your apartment and assess your appearance in the bathroom mirror, you wonder who’s making who up here. He’s changing your looks more than you are his. You’re like his human doll.

You’ve put up with a lot over the years, but this takes the cake and shoves it in your face. As fucked as it is, the flavor is growing on you. Like a fungus. Growing, nonetheless.

You can’t stop thinking about him.

It’s innocent enough, you try convincing yourself. Making sure you have the right outfit laid out the night before, the right lunch (no onions or fish or anything “freaky”!), etc. He is your superior, after all. You shouldn’t be viewing him in any other light.

He’s the most frustrating aspect of your existence these days, but he’s also the one you’re around the most. His penchant for workplace gossip and how unintentionally funny he is tends to make him palatable, which has regrettably become an understatement.

Months go by. You’ve witnessed how alone he truly is. How he has nothing outside of performing his tricks on Vought’s all-encompassing stage. And when he begins asking for your input, starts doing things for you that are so blatant it’s perplexing, you find your stress and vexation melting into cumbersome fascination.

It’s embarrassing. You don’t have the courtesy of enough time to dwell on your feelings toward the situation either, from beginning to whatever end you might be met with. You suppose that could be beneficial in the long run.

It also hits you when you least expect it; when you really don’t want it to.

Your body doesn’t wait until you finally have a moment alone. It decides, while you’re helping Homelander with his skincare routine that he insisted upon because you know more than these vacuous corporate douche-bags, to heat up without warning and slither from your head to your heart until it grasps you unfairly between your legs.

You try not to step into momentary paralysis. You understand to what extent his powers reach. It’s not like he doesn’t go on and on about them. About himself.

Whatever he notices, it’s not right away. A palpable tension fills the air between the two of you eventually. But it takes a more significant amount of time than you would have anticipated to permeate the natural flow of things.

Fuck, you can’t even be safe inside here, where your thoughts, whatever they may be, are yours. You can’t even have yourself. He has every part of you, and you are willingly relinquishing that control.

Your evening, once you can have it, consists of combing over every decision you’ve made leading up to this strange, disorienting space you find yourself occupying. All it does is leave you exasperated in a much different way than before and with an unsettling observation (or hallucination):

Was that the tail end of the American flag outside your window?

You are unacceptably late.

Rushing around, you throw on the first top and bottoms you see from your closet and spritz some perfume on your neck and wrists. You don’t check your phone. You’re afraid of what will pop up on your screen. And, frankly, you don’t have the time.

Your only option for transportation is the subway, as you’re sure the special vehicle from Vought is long gone. Why would they wait for someone like you, even if you’re practically Homelander’s personal assistant? One of his only friends. You doubt he has more than Black Noir, and that isn’t as perfect as it appears to the casual viewer.

You dread what kind of explosion you’re without a doubt walking into once you show your miserable ass up. You’re going to smell like everyone on this train. He’s going to go ballistic.

The question remains: why are you continuing to put yourself through this? It’s not your circus, yet somehow, the monkeys have become your liability.

You know, deep down, what keeps you going back. It’s simply too ridiculous to admit aloud.

Making your way past security, hurriedly presenting your badge, you realize you forgot to brush your teeth, or at the very least, gargle some mouthwash. You thank your lucky stars when you open your purse to a pack of gum tucked away in one of the compartments.

It will have to do.

When you open the door to Homelander’s dressing room, you see a couple of employees standing near the counter where the bag of supplies has been opened and rifled through, looking like they might soil themselves, a frantic Ashley, and an extremely pissed off Homelander in the middle of it all.

Reflexively, you cringe. You attempt to wipe any trace from your features, but it’s too late. Ashley is glaring daggers at you and Homelander can hardly bring himself to look in your direction. The others don’t matter to you. They never did.

“I’m so sorry I’m late. I know there’s no excuse-”

“You’re goddamned right, there’s no excuse! I don’t give a shit if god and his whole fucking choir of angels came down from heaven and divinely called you to give them a makeover! What were you thinking?!”

You’re about to answer, though you comprehend her query is more or less rhetorical. She interrupts your slightly open mouth while gesturing wildly, proving your point.

“Oh, that’s right! You weren’t thinking at all, were you?! But I do believe you’ve thought long and hard about what’s at stake here. And you know damn well we at Vought don’t tolerate this kind of sloppy behavior. Not to mention the way you’re dressed! It’s adding insult to injury!” Her hand swipes at the air, the length of your outfit, and you glance down, recognizing how comically mismatched you are. Her correct observation affects you more than it would have months prior, stinging your ego- one of the many things that’s been shelved in order to accommodate the person who won’t even grace you with a glance.

A dramatic groan cuts short any further commentary from the redhead, perpetually stretched thin between her absurd duties.

“Jesus Christ, Ashley, why are your big fucking horse gums still flapping?” Homelander’s booming voice slices through your mind like a jarring, dense migraine. He pinches his brow between middle finger and thumb, eyes closed. “I want you and Tweedledee and Tweedledum t’get the fuck out. Now.”

Ashley is plainly dumbfounded, struggling to see where she went wrong (a pattern when it comes to dealing with the volatile leader of The Seven), mouth agape. She shakes her head. “But sir, are you-?”

“You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about or doing. Clearly.”

Ms. Barrett turns a shade paler, staring at Homelander and blinking owlishly before snapping herself out of her stupor. She hurries her lackeys out of the room, shooing them along like a pair of misbehaving toddlers. She doesn’t give a final look, no further warning. She merely shuts the door behind her.

You also hear it lock.

What the hell does she think is going to happen?

You should have stopped this while you had the chance. You should have never taken this job. You should have stood up for yourself and walked out. You should have you should have you should-

“Who the fuck do you think you are?”

His caustic tone sends shivers down your spine. It’s unlike anything you’ve heard come out of him. And you’ve heard enough.

Again, you open your mouth. It fills with blood, thick and metallic and more potent than the mint from your gum. You’re silenced by it.

He stalks toward you and grabs you hastily by the shoulders, swiveling you around so you’re face-to-face with the choices you’ve made. Your mirrored image is reflected back at you, exhausted and searching for any last shred of who you might be beneath his heavy palms.

“Look at yourself! Do you even recognize who’s staring back at you?” No.

“What kind of game are you playing, hmmm? Is this… humiliating spectacle you’re putting on for the money? Your pathetic career? Like it’s goddamned rocket science to pick up a can of hairspray and use it. Monkeys have hands.” He makes a noise that’s akin to a snorting horse, exhaling forcefully past his nostrils. “I mean, did you really think you could pull a fast one on me?” He clutches your jaw, squeezing it between middle and thumb. Every muscle in your body tenses, your heart picking up rhythm.

“Spit that fucking gum out. Don’t think I can’t hear you grinding it between your molars like a dumb animal. You aren’t a mama bird, are you? Y’don’t have cute little baby birds t’force-feed your regurgitated leftovers, do you? Eugh, gross.”

You take a deep breath and exhale through your nose. It presents you with a false sense of security. You do as you’re told, and it lands on the floor in front of your shoe, saliva dangling on a thread as withered as your sanity.

Suddenly fresh breath seems like the most insignificant issue, when Homelander himself once made it out to be something earth-shattering.

You’re such a fool.

He leans in and sniffs your throat. Your fingers lengthen and bend.

You’re so many things at once. Confused, angry, nervous, scared. And, to your dismay, warm. God you’re so fucking warm. He’s heating you up from the inside out. You clench your jaw, still held in place by a firm bind.

“Get rid of those ugly clothes. I don’t care what you have to do. I can’t stand the sight or smell of them.”

You shut your eyes. When you open them, all you see is red. The other emotions are smothered in favor of that brand of heat. What happens next is a blur. You temporarily leave yourself.

“Fine. Have it your way, Homelander. You always do.”

Breaking free of his fluctuating hold, you start tearing at what you’re wearing, tossing everything- including your bra and underwear- to the ground. Your shirt winds up with the gum sticking to its loose fabric. You even take your shoes and socks off, not paying any heed to where your belongings go. Just that they’re gone.

You don’t process the glaring fact that you made yourself naked in front of your boss. In front of the most powerful man this country, and possibly world, has known. You don’t care that things have escalated this far. That they shouldn’t have. They shouldn’t have. But guess what? They did. And these are the consequences you both have to deal with.

“You wanna know what game I’m playing?” You turn around, forcing him backward. “It’s funny, I thought you’d be able to answer that for me, considering all the hoops I’ve had to jump through to not only save my ass, but make sure you had someone to talk to at the end of the day! Who on your team can you say goes above and beyond like that for you?!” He blinks at you now, eyes wide. Features fall to the floor where your clothes reside. You have his full and undivided attention.

An impressively dangerous thing to have.

“What more do you want from me, Homelander? I practically live with you without any of the benefits that usually includes! You’re really going to stand here and berate me like I haven’t given you fucking everything you’ve ever asked me for? Because I made one mistake? I gave up my entire world, which I know doesn’t mean shit to you. But it does to me.”

You fold your arms over your chest. Nothing covers it. You have to know before you lose all dignity. So you ask once more, hoping it won’t get lost in this bizarre mess.

“What do you want from me?”

Nothing. He can’t stop staring at you. You aren’t aware enough to be ashamed, but you are aware enough to be upset.

His infuriating silence compels you to bend down and gather what was a barrier between the two of you. You are no longer needed if he can’t do what he does best, which is spout off, leaking bottled words everywhere like a broken faucet. It’s a pretty simple question, you think.

That’s when the glass behind you shatters.

You flinch, pause what you’re doing and slowly stand. Cautious in whatever your next approach will be.

Surveying the aftermath, you’re relieved to find that you’re far enough away from the mirror so no injuries were inflicted.

When you finally lock eyes with the source, you see red. The atmosphere surrounding you heaves like the distended belly of a rotting corpse; hisses like an overflowing tea kettle; pierces you like lightning.

Homelander’s expression is rigid. His jaw quivers. Irises are a bright, shining scarlet. If you try anything rash, you might be next. But, having been around him for so long, you’re more inclined to believe he’s having trouble processing his own emotions. And that might have been one of the only ways to release them.

You drop the top and pants you managed to reclaim. Your brain hasn’t fully recovered from the constant devastating hit it’s taken, so you don’t want to put a name to what’s pushing you forward. You don’t stop until you’re directly in his line of vision.

Swallowing, you carefully extend your hand. The ruby color begins to crumble and give way to the vast ocean you might have drowned in one too many times. You lost track, blocking what you could out. Too real and intimate to accept for a realm that thrives off of inauthenticity and misfortune.

Homelander inhales harshly and you retreat, pupils hooking themselves to his. Searching for any sign you shouldn’t be right where you are.

Of course there are several; unfortunately, you are currently blind to them. Blind to everything but him.

That’s how it’s been for awhile, hasn’t it?

He has a habit of not granting you the luxury of time.

Quickly, he snatches your wrist and brings your palm flat against his cheek. He exhales, eyelids fluttering, nuzzling into you.

It’s so simple, yet it disarms you in ways you aren’t accustomed to.

Homelander basks in this chaste display of affection, and so do you, in awe of how enraptured he appears. Soaking you inside of his pores.

In turn, your cognizance reappears. You nearly topple over, realization infiltrating every part of you.

You’re not wearing a stitch.

A knock at the door startles you both. You glance over in that general direction and hear from the other side, “You’re on in fifteen, Homelander, sir!”

Gazing back up at him, you witness that same fire expand at a rapid rate. You use your other hand to bring him back down to reality, to ground him. It rests against his chest, delving into and cracking his ribs, flaying him open.

What strikes you is how vigorously his heart is beating. How you can feel it through his uniform.

This is how much you affect him. (Can you fathom that you’re only privy to a fraction?) Having evidence of the tiniest reciprocation drains you of any unwanted discomfort.

His fury subsides. You breathe out. He does, too.

“Go sit in your chair. I came here to do my job, after all.” The tenderness with which you speak seems to ease him further, his shoulders deflating with each word.

That aside, you’re playing with a lit match. You’re unsure who’s going to set who ablaze, but you’re willing to go down with this entire building to find out.

He does as he’s told, watching you the whole way like a mutilated mixture of a snarling cornered animal and a man fervently in love. He almost trips into his seat, not an ounce of grace in his gait.

Sacrificing his entire image just to get a glimpse of you.

Whipping his cape to the side, he sinks into the cushion. You get things ready as you typically do, your movements a bit jittery from the adrenaline sending haphazard jolts to your limbs. Despite this, you’re focused. You are more focused than you remember ever being.

You work efficiently, keeping in mind the limit that’s been put on your time.

Homelander bores holes through you. He doesn’t need lasers for that. You’re exposed and vulnerable and he pries what he fostered apart until it’s distinguishable by no one else but him.

You relearn his perfectly manufactured features. Different lights shape shadows you either haven’t seen before or feigned ignorance of. You commit to memory how he looks, smells, feels, the side of your hand grazing his cheek and hanging on.

He’s invigorating, your excitement building to a crescendo you can’t neglect. The heat in your core disperses, most of it congregating low in your belly and behind your expanding rib cage. His pupils drink you in, urgently and violently.

Your arousal is heady. He licks his lips. A hint of a whine caresses your ears and it makes you dizzy.

How could you have ever denied yourself?

You decide to take further control, testing the waters to a greater extent.

It’s your turn to watch him the whole way down. You straddle him, easing yourself atop his taut thighs.

After a few moments of humoring yourself, of pretending to concentrate on your work, dusting his nose with powder, you straighten. Eye contact has not been severed.

You motion toward his hands, balled into tense, repressed fists at his sides.

“Take off your gloves.”

Initially, it feels like maybe you said the wrong thing, or said it the wrong way. He doesn’t budge. You’re patient, however, so you wait like you’ve always done, the warmth from your cunt mingling with the hardness beneath you. Your mouth waters.

At last, Homelander nods and removes his gloves, tugging on the index of each. He places them on the armrests and transfixes himself to you once more.

“Do you want to touch me?” you ask, voice and body staying impossibly still in spite of your nerves.

Immediately, he shakes his head, “Yes,” the first time he’s spoken since your outburst, and without hesitation, reaches for your chest. You close your eyes, falling into his snooping lifts and tugs and squeezes, giving yourself permission to become possessed by the inhibited imaginations of how selfish, how rapacious his touches might be. How smooth his bare hands are, how ardent each digit is.

Leaning into you, he sucks one nipple into his mouth and palms the other, moaning and vibrating against your flesh. He digs his fingers into the pliant softness of your hip, steadying you with disciplined pressure. You squirm, attuned to every minuscule shift.

The lit match is tilted toward you now, swift and stunning. Your fingers release the brush you’ve been holding. It aligns with the slit of the cushion, forgotten and purposeless.

You wrap your digits around the hand on your curves and guide him toward your throbbing center. He doesn’t fight you. Doesn’t stop your movements. Doesn’t scold or challenge you. Instead, he curls his fingers in a way that makes you unabashedly moan, cupping your folds and pinning his thumb to your clit, adapting to your anatomy.

Your wants.

It seems like breaking away from you is a daunting task, but he does for a moment, brow furrowed, more engrossed and invested than you’ve ever witnessed.

“Fuck.” The curse sounds downright edible, your new favorite flavor. Your name tumbles from his lips like he’s been practicing, a sweet, rich icing on top. You gasp, his tongue adhering to you again, swirling around your peak before lightly biting it.

Rocking your hips back and forth, side-to-side, you grind hard into his palm. He strokes you like he’s studied what pace you prefer, how much friction you crave. You’re so wet, even you’re thrown off by it.

Once he’s finished with your chest, he’s back against the seat, unable to peel his gaze from you. Your full, swollen, glistening breasts.

His mouth hangs open, obscene, desperate whimpers slipping from it. Pupils are like whirlpools that drive you under. Drive you mad.

Homelander adeptly slips two, three digits inside your sopping cunt, unrelenting in his intentions to make up for lost time. The voracity of his actions propels you forward, balancing against his chest. He grasps and pulls at your other hip, groaning loudly in your ear, confirming his approval of how close you are to him.

It’s still not enough.

Pulling you even tighter to his blinding sun of a body, he encloses his free arm around you and desperately bucks his waist. “I want… I want… I want…” he chants. Your nails drag up his neck and along his scalp, overwhelmed by his warmth, his scent, him. Your lips ghost the sliver of skin above his collar, making him growl.

You anticipate and dread and yearn for what’s been building for so long. You clench and release, clench and release, clench and release, body chanting with him.

You’re intuitively thankful for the chair’s sturdiness; however, if it would have collapsed, you’re honestly not sure you would have noticed. Or cared.

You hear him come first. Feel the temperature rise temporarily. It’s so sudden and all-consuming that you naturally follow, his name an instinct you can’t help but divulge. You haven’t come down from the turbulent emotions rushing through you earlier, and that combination catapults you over the edge.

Your orgasm draws more deliberate, vehement grunts and sighs of satisfaction from him, as if your pleasure is inexplicably the same or worth more than his.

You can’t crumple into a boneless heap like you want to. You just can’t. You have to look at him. Look at his bliss; the glazed, barren-yet-so-full-of-you expression, of what these months of working in close quarters have done to him.

What you uncover is not what you were picturing. There’s a mixture of that haze with something almost apologetic below the teeming surface. Clouds of red to skies of blue. Destructive in and of themselves.

Sliding his fingers from your wetness, he wraps his lips around each one that was inside of you and spreads them apart. Your slick sticks to his glossy skin and stretches between digits, a generous amount. You whimper at the loss- the emptying, hollow feeling- and watch, mesmerized and delirious as he savors you.

Swallowing you whole, Homelander sweeps his knuckles across the apple of your cheek and presses his lips hard against yours. He wastes no time inhaling your gasps and moans, licking your mouth and the faint taste of mint, stealing it from you. You ingest what you can of him as well, exploring what was open to you longer than you realized.

He then seizes your wrists. It’s a rough gesture that evaporates into gentle circles along your pulse points. Still, you know you’re going to bruise where he turned the key and locked you into place: wherever he is.

A visible sheen coats his lips.

“I want you to tell me I’m good. Great. The best.”

His breathing is labored. So is yours.

He kisses the inside of the wrist smeared with perfume, your fluids, his saliva; ends with your hand and rests his cheek against the slope of it.

“I want you to be mine. All mine. Mine alone.”

You’re shaking. He moves forward and pets your hair, twirls it; grabs your nape and holds his thumb to the front of your throat. Securing you. Keeping you there.

“You have to stay. Be mine and stay.”

You thrum with an ache he forced upon you. He’ll claim you were starving and he was the only one who could satiate.

You nod. You were never going to leave to begin with.

Homelander made you his. And you thanked him for it.

#homelander #homelander x reader #the boys #antony starr #my writing #let me see you stripped down to the bone #oneshot #god it feels so good getting this out #i’ve been going through a painful writer’s block so 🥹#thank you everyone who helped and anyone who reads #this is my first full-fledged homelander fic so i’m a bit nervous but! very excited 🖤#love you all 🥰

262 notes · View notes

ki-yomii · 9 months

Text

phases of a daydream | myg

➥ pairing | min yoongi x f!reader

➥ word count | 2.8k

➥ warning(s) | 🔞 smut; dirty talk, oral (f receiving), squirting, soft dom!yoongi, pet names, mild degradation kink, mild praise kink, begging, teasing, implied established relationship, brief threesome fantasy feat JK

➥ summary | you get up early to surprise yoongi with breakfast in bed, only he ends up surprising you instead.

➥ notes | this man has made my oral fixation 10x worse. for all the sleepy girlies out there 🫡

💚 masterlist | inbox | AO3 💚

The early Sunday morning sun hovers low on the horizon, its golden light peeking through gaps between downtown Seoul’s high risers.

The cacophony of city life sounds muted, far away, foggy with sleep. Slow to rise as vibrant brushstrokes of color chase away the velvet nighttime sky.

Some of the only ones awake are food stand owners with tteokbokki and eomuk in hand, Hongdae club go-ers, and you, apparently. It’s peaceful - certainly different from your usual routine.

But it’s also an experience you don’t see yourself repeating soon.

As nice as watching the sunrise is, you’d rather be dead than awake at this hour, especially on a weekend. You’ll never understand how some people like getting up while the world’s still cold and dark.

It’s criminal.

Couldn’t be me, you think while swirling oil around the pan, and ignoring the fact you did that just this morning.

It’s a minor miracle when you’re fully awake before 11 AM, and that’s after you guzzle down so much caffeine you vibrate in place.

Woe to whoever expects more than dispassionate glares and unintelligible grunts as you migrate from the bed to the couch.

What can you say, you’re not a morning girlie: you hate the half-drunk awareness, the sour taste clinging to the back of your tongue, the sticky sweat, and how overwhelmingly bright everything is.

Instead, you’d much rather nestle into bed, groggy and warm.

So Min Yoongi better count his blessings because he’s the only reason you’re in the kitchen at 7 AM, wearing nothing but a shirt that barely covers your ass while trying - and failing - to flip nurungji.

Quiet Spotify tunes and Min Holly’s rumbling snores are the only background noise amid your bitten off curses.

Before you met him, you used to make fun of girls so far gone for a guy they lost touch with reality. And now, you’re one of them, fighting for your life in the trenches.

He’s got you so whipped, it should be illegal.

Furthermore, it’s downright unfair how endearing you find it. It should infuriate you. Instead, you’re kitten soft.

And Yoongi knows how to use it to his advantage - knows it’s that stupid smirk paired with a face that makes smart girls dumb.

It never fails to win you over; the pretty eyes, the plush lips, the sharp jawline - you’re an absolute goner. If only smug didn’t look so good on him…

Karma’s a bitch, isn’t it?

The only thing that somewhat mollifies your bruised pride is the fact that should everything go to plan, your less than innocent intentions will come to fruition.

After all, your stolen shirt leaves so little to the imagination, you needn’t have bothered. And when Yoongi sees you practically naked, with breakfast in bed?

Fire meets gasoline.

While he might never say it outright, there’s no denying the way Yoongi’s eyes go soft and hungry whenever he catches you prancing around in his shirt.

He swears he’s going to throw it out, threadbare and worn, yet there it sits. Waiting in the back of his closet for the next time you stay over.

But that’s how it’s always been; a game of cat and mouse. You tease, he reacts - a constant push and pull, flirting with the boundaries of his restraint.

Though admittedly, you’ve never been this brazen before; ass out and nipples hard.

Although it’s not like he lives with the rest of the members anymore, so why not up the ante?

Even if imagining someone walking in on you (no matter how improbable) gets your blood pumping, and your pussy aching.

No one has to know about the dirty little fantasy you indulge in more often than you care to admit.

No one has to know how wet you get at the thought of getting caught bent over, stuffed full of Yoongi’s cock and unable to do anything but moan as he makes you take it.

Certainly, he’d play along.

The smooth thrust of his hips wouldn’t falter, wouldn’t stop. He’d fuck sweet whines out of you, make you cum so hard you gush.

Would keep you pinned in place with his hands, and tease you about how much you liked getting wrecked in front of his friend like a perfect little bitch.

Especially if it was Jungkook.

Yoongi thinks it’s cute how frazzled you get around the maknae; a silly, schoolgirl crush. In fact, he’d probably use it to his advantage. After all, he loves to taunt, tease.

Oh, he definitely would, you think, biting your lip as your stomach clenches and your thighs twitch.

His fingers would dig into your jaw, force you to look if you tried to hide; make you stare deep into those wide Bambi eyes with his chin hooked over your shoulder and his voice rough in your ear.

Grinding his cock head over your g-spot with every flex of his hips as your pussy tries to milk him dry, “You just gonna stand there, huh? C’mere, let’s have some fun. She doesn’t mind.”

...

"Ow, shit," you hiss, jerking back from the stove as angry heat blooms through your fingertips, "fuck, that hurts!"

Dropping the spatula, you scramble to the sink and run cold water over your hand while glaring at the sizzling pan. It might have been your fault for getting distracted, but rude.

Even if the pain helps calm down some of your raging hormones.

Okay, down girl, you think, chill out.

So despite your fingers feeling tight and swollen like a bad sunburn, and as hot a fantasy as that is, you take your sign from the universe and recollect yourself.

For now, you need to focus on the task at hand which comes at the expense of no more daydreaming.

Resolutely ignoring the sticky cling of your inner thighs, you slip the spatula under the rice patty and quickly flip it over.

It sizzles as it drops back into the pan, little splashes of oil kicking up.

Thankfully, the bottom isn’t too badly scorched. A little darker than you’d like but beggars can’t be choosers when they burn themselves because they’re too distracted by the thought of dick.

Giving the other side a few minutes to crisp up, you frown down at the forming blister. You poke it with a wince.

It’s not too big, and the sting isn’t terrible. You were able to sap the heat from the wound quick enough.

Honestly, what hurts worse is your pride - a total rookie move.

When its ready, you dump it onto a plate without ceremony before turning to grab the sugar. Only to gasp as you run into a solid chest instead of open air.

Forearms snake around your waist as Yoongi tugs you into the curve of his body. Pressed together from chest to hip, he feels the hitch of your breath when his thigh wedges itself between yours.

“Oh, y-you’re up!”

Fingertips flirt with the hem of your (his) shirt, inching higher to caress the slope of your rib cage. Goosebumps break out across your skin, your nipples pulling taut as a shiver judders down your spine.

Low-slung sweats cling to Yoongi’s trim hips, his erection tenting the cotton.

“Mm, morning,” he says, the greeting slurred out in a voice raspy with sleep. “Smells good.”

You swallow. “Good morning, baby.” You lean forward, and kiss the tip of his nose. “How’d you sleep?” Your hand scrapes over the nape of his neck, playing with the soft baby hairs.

It wasn’t until sometime after 3 AM that he’d wiggled into bed, most of the night spent in front of his MIDI, fiddling with chords and arrangements.

He rests his chin on the top of your head with a sigh, his breath ruffling the hair of your crown, “Hnng, slept alright.”

Arms tighten around you in a light squeeze while cheeky fingers inch up your torso to trace along the underside of your breast.

“Had the best dream though.”

Your breath catches in your chest, your heart stuttering against your ribs when he grinds forward, languid and loose. Your gut clenches hotly in interest as his cock rests heavy against your hip.

A temptation, a promise of what’s to come. Your palms sneak around his sides, resting on sleep-warm skin.

When you speak, its more of a breathless whisper than actual words, “Yeah, I can see that.”

“C’mon, baby, don’t you want to help me out?” Yoongi hums, peppering kisses along the length of your neck. A rough thumb drags over the peak of your nipple. “Promise it’ll be good for you.”

“Yoongi!”

“Fuck,” a kneecap grinds up against your tender pussy, spreading your slick, swollen folds open, “can feel you through my pants. Let me, I know you want to.”

Your hips stutter, and you swallow your whine. “I do…”

Pleasure sings in your blood as you soak the fabric covering his thigh, a needy desperation rearing its head from deep within.

Flames lick along your skin, liquid fire pooling low behind your navel like a shot of whiskey.

“But,” you long for the bite of his teeth, the snap of his hips, the roughness of his grip, “I just finished making breakfast.”

Pouting, you stare up at him.

A tender expression softens the lines of his face. But the desire simmering beneath the gentle veneer remains, rough and rude.

There’s a raging tempest in his gaze, twin rings of rich coffee consumed by the black holes of his pupils.

Utterly ravenous, greedy as he traces your features.

It’s a look that’ll leave you weak-kneed and pumped full of cum.

“I know, and I appreciate the effort.”

He’s earnest, aflame with craven desire even as he presses a tender kiss to the side of your face.

“But I’d rather eat you out. You’ll let me, won’t you, pretty girl?”

You nearly choke on your tongue, and say, “Well, how am I supposed to say no to a face like that?”

You’ve barely got the words out before you find yourself flat on your back, the unyielding marble of Yoongi’s counter top cold against your heated skin.

Calloused palms pry your thighs apart, grip so firm it dimples the fat as Yoongi holds you open and exposed.

He runs his nose along your sensitive inner thigh, his lips warm and ready as his breath pants over your soaked core.

When your clit throbs, he groans low and wrecked, “Just look at this pretty pussy.”

Almost reverently, he strokes his thumbs over the length of your folds, dips his fingers into your entrance to spread the gathering slick.

Whimpering, your head smacks back against the granite and your hips jerk up towards his face

“Can’t wait til I get my mouth on you.”

“Shit, Yoongi, you can’t - you can’t just say stuff like that.”

He flicks your clit, relishing in how your whole body jumps as he demands, “Why not?”

“B-Because you just can’t, okay?” Your heart feels like it’s about to burst out of your chest. There’s no doubt, he’s going to be the death of you one day. “It’s not-”

Fair.

“I think you don’t want me talking like that because you like it. Don’t you, baby?”

“I-”

The words turn to ash on your tongue. A loud, sloppy lick up the length of your slit shuts you up while a harsh suck to your swollen clit makes you whine. Your back bows hard, your hands flying down to sink into the dark mane of his hair.

“Ohh g- ah!”

“That’s it,” Yoongi smacks his lips, humming low in his throat, “Let me hear you.”

Forearms anchor themselves over your thighs. Using his body weight to keep you pinned, he tugs you close and strokes his fingers over your sticky folds, humming in approval at the obscene squelch.

Slick oozes out of you with every talented caress, dripping down your ass to puddle on the countertop.

“Always get so wet for me, don’t you?” Yoongi buries his smirk in the crease of your thigh, his tongue darting out to tease the very edge of your cunt. “You’re such a messy little slut, just how I like it.”

Before you can properly respond, he’s spreading you open and bowing his head. You squirm as his plush lips glide over the top of your mound, butterfly kisses tracing the beginning of your needy slit.

His bangs brush the soft underside of your belly. “Ready?”

He doesn’t wait before diving in, sucking the hard nub of your clit into his mouth. Stars burst behind your clenched eyelids. Soft, warm suction sends pleasure ricocheting through your limbs, your stomach caving in with every tender pulse of his mouth.

Your mouth drops open on a silent gasp

“That’s so - fuck,” you pant, hand scrambling for something to hold onto, hips jerking beneath his firm grip. “Yoongi!”

The wild movements nearly dislodge him, and he grunts in displeasure before readjusting to keep you better pinned.

His tongue retreats from your clit, and he sets his teeth against your pussy in warning, a gentle bite that doesn’t break skin but carries the slightest sting.

“‘m sorry, please - haahhh - please don’t stop,” you slur, fingers digging into his scalp. “I’ll be good, just please don’t stop, I can’t-”

He grunts at the rake of your nails, tongue lashes out in retaliation. He dips the tip into the tight clench of your entrance, teasing your sensitive walls.

Meanwhile, his nose grinds against your clit. The sensation’s almost too much, your body alight like a live-wire. You feel like you’re about to rocket off of the countertop, one of your hands de-tangling from his hair to yank at your own.

“S’too much - s’too good. Please, baby, I can’t!”

Yoongi ignores your cries, knows you’d sooner stab him with a knife if he stopped.

Anyway, you can take it.

You’re his good girl, after all.

You both like it wet and messy; love when the honey of your cunt soaks his face, sticks to his lips and drips from his chin.

All you can do is cry out, your chest pointed towards the ceiling as his tongue fucks deep, never stops chasing every drop of pleasure. Your toes curl from the alteration between flat, firm licks and gentle sucks.

Sweat gathers in your hairline, behind your knees as a heady rush sends you spinning, mind a haze of sensation.

You can’t stop rolling your hips, chasing after his talented mouth. In no time at all, Yoongi’s going to have you violently, explosively cumming on his tongue - just like he always does.

“Give it to me,” he growls, “Wanna feel this pretty pussy gush.”

You moan,” Yoongi, I’m - please, don’t stop. R-Right there!”

Your thighs clench around his head, biting down on your lip to hold in the scream threatening to break free.

“Fuck, please, ‘m almost there.”

Your pathetic cries spur him on.

With renewed enthusiasm, Yoongi twirls his tongue across the top of your slit, the tip playing with the hood of your clit. You clench down hard. It’s almost too much, like he’s reached deep inside and plucked at your nerves.

Then, the leaden ball of heat behind your navel contracts. Expands into a blazing inferno that threatens to swallow you whole, spreading out along your limbs like bolts of lightening until you shake.

“That’s it, come on,” Yoongi says, coaxing every ounce of pleasure he can. “I’ve got you, pretty girl. Now, cum for me.”

All it takes is one last talented pulse of his tongue. Your orgasm rips through you with a loud, keening cry. Your back arches so high your spine feels like it’s about to snap, and slick gushes from you in a warm flood.

The ball of heat snaps, races down through your body from the crown of your head to your toes. Your thighs tremble from where they’re clenched around Yoongi’s head, soaked. Your heart slams against your ribs.

“F-Fuck…”

Collapsing against the cool stone, and panting hard, you push away stray hairs sticking to your face.

Glancing down the length of your twitching body, you see Yoongi still kneeling between your splayed thighs.

The lower half of his face is soaked with cum and drool. His sweatpants were kicked off at some point, you’re not sure when but it doesn’t really matter when his cock throbs against his belly, hard and wanting as the tip weeps pre-cum.

But it’s his eyes that really do you in; hot, hungry, and awe-filled.

“Can’t believe I’ve never made you squirt before.”

Those sinful lips part, red and swollen as his tongue swipes out to gather any leftover slick clinging to his mouth. A rough moan rumbles from his throat.

“Think you can do it again for me, baby?”

A weak laugh escapes you, and you think - not for the first time - that Min Yoongi is going to be the reason you die.

#yoongi #min yoongi x you #min yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #yoongi x reader #min yoongi #yoongi fanfic #bts fanfic

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runa-falls · 11 months

Text

scratches and bites - 2

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Reader

Warnings: Could be a little off-canon for some characters, lots of plot, slight angst, Miguel is an helicopter mom, reader just wants some friends :(

a/n: ok. i didn't realize how much i wanted to put into this chapter so spicy stuff is coming NEXT chapter. promith. i've already written some of it. anyway, i'm glad y'all are enjoying my O'Hara content. I hope this lives up to your expectations lmfao

Summary: Miguel O'Hara is a grumpy man and you make him grumpy. You regularly go against his orders, create chaos, and invite danger. This is what you've been doing since he swept you away.

w/c: 2.2k

series masterlist | main masterlist

----

So being “Spider-Woman” turned out to be harder than you thought. It’s not all swinging from and shooting webs like you imagined. Apparently, there’s a spider-specific physical regimen you’re required to keep up with. Every day.

You’re almost convinced that you’re being hazed into the spider-verse community because you are yet to see anyone else doing upside-down web squats on a 100-story building. Not to mention the life-threatening training simulations you were thrown into as soon as you arrived in Nueva York.

“They can’t hurt you, Kid. They’re holograms.”

“Yeah, that’s what they want you to think O’Hara, but my ass has been kicked enough to prove differently.”

“Alright, well they can’t kill you.”

Miguel has been “training” you for the last few months to become the best Spider-Woman you can be, pushing you harder than you’ve ever been pushed before. Though these days, this “training” is actually just him telling Parker to drill you in whatever he thinks will work.

O’Hara attempted to do it himself for like three days, and it turns out he’s too impatient to take in a spider apprentice or even be in a room where you do anything but exactly what he commands.

You should’ve expected it.

Sure, Miguel is a naturally grumpy man, but you swear he has it out for you. He literally tenses whenever you enter the room and makes sure to barely meet your eyes when he’s forced to talk to you.

Actually, ever since you were dropped in the middle of Spider-Central, O’Hara has been ignoring you. Treating you like the plague. Always making the excuse that he’s too busy with things that are far more important than anything you’d ever have to say. As if he wasn’t the one who forced you to come with him in the first place…

It’s not fair. He was literally all you had.

Months ago, he showed you a side of him, the one that convinced you that he actually brought you here for a reason, but now he can’t even look at you. Sure, you’re a particularly slow learner, and one that never really liked PE, but you deserve some slack. You left everything for him – for them.

Meeting people who’ve gone through similar circumstances as you was quite interesting, to say the least. And it doesn’t stop at people either. Spider cars, dinosaurs, and cats were just the beginning.

You’ve made a few friends. There’s Gwen, a 15 (or was it 16?) -year-old who mostly talks about her friend Miles, music, and…uh, Miles. It’s sweet how she gushes on about some guy without fully realizing how into him she is. Miles sounds great, really great, but you’ll probably never get to meet him because of the number of restrictions placed on your watch. Fucking O’Hara and his parental controls.

Gwen is cool, she plays the drums and can do a bunch of acrobatic things that you’d never even attempt, but she’s also almost a half-decade younger than you. There’s only so much you can talk about before you start getting homesick. Of course, despite her young age, she’s still given more responsibilities and missions than you. If Miguel has one hobby, it would be undermining everything you do.

“She’s been in the game longer than you have.” He always makes that excuse.

And you always counter it with: “But I’m older! I can do more than just scream for help!”

“This isn’t a discussion.” That honestly might be his favorite phrase to shut you up these days. “You’ll be called on when you’re ready, Kid.” And that.

“I am ready. And stop calling me that. I’m not a kid, I’m 20 years old!”

“Yeah, whatever.”

There’s also Peter Parker, your reluctant coach. He’s…something else. Sure, he’s your friend, but he’s more like a substitute teacher and crazy uncle type of guy. Usually, he listens to everything Miguel says, acting like a glorified babysitter, but sometimes, he’s up to bend the rules on some things.

Once he let you visit his dimension, claiming you’d need some real-life experience as a “friendly-neighborhood spider-woman”. You spent that day chasing down petty robbers and helping old ladies cross the road. Sure, it was a small field trip, but that was only the third dimension you’d traveled to at the time.

Parker is also always trying to get you to hold his daughter whenever she comes to work claiming that “it’ll be good for your mental health, trust me.” Of course, for Parker, every day is “bring-your-kid-to-train-the-new-spider-woman-day”. And really, you don’t mind holding her, but not when you’re in the middle of sparing 5 of Doc Ocks tentacles.

The baby is adorable, but you do worry about how she crawls up the walls. Parker doesn’t seem fazed. Actually, neither does O’Hara.

Sometimes you wonder if O’Hara wants kids one day. He certainly handles Mayday like a pro, letting her crawl over his shoulders and paperwork. Would he possibl– No, actually, it doesn’t matter. It shouldn’t matter, because he left you. He’s not – couldn’t even be an option. – Anyway…

Parker and Mayday are nice company and the only real constants in your life, but you really just want to be a consistent part of the team. You don’t know how much longer you can spend your days doing swinging drills and spider crunches (don’t even ask). But Parker has actually been your rock these past months, to give him credit. He’s one of the few people that makes you feel like you belonged in this distorted array of spiders and dimensions.

Then there’s Hobie.

The first time you met him you probably had literal stars in your eyes. Donned with a spiked vest and several facial piercings, he caught your attention right away. He catches everyone’s attention. Even his suit is cooler than everyone else’s with a spiked mohawk that surely gets in the way.

Unfortunately, just as you were hoping to take on the Brit as your mentor for all things spider, he was decidedly off-limits, courtesy of O’Hara. Apparently, his rebellious nature and brash energy make him a “bad influence”.

“Seriously? You should be glad that I’m taking a bigger interest in my training.” You have your hands posted up on your hips, trying to make yourself look bigger than you actually are. Damn, O’Hara and his domineering presence!

He rolls his eyes openly, genuinely already done with the conversation. “Yeah…your ‘training,’ sure.”

“What is that supposed to mean!” You practically whine it out.

“Don’t get distracted gatita, just do as you’re told.”

“Ok, what does that mean? I don’t speak Italian.”

“That was Spanish dumbass.”

Of course, that doesn’t stop you from hanging out with him anyway (though he’s not around as much anymore). Who knew making friends as Spider-Person would be so hard. You’d think you’d have a lot in common with everyone around you, but really, you’re all alone. Sometimes you think the spiders actually resent you deep down because you’re the only one that has never lost anything. Or had anything to lose in the first place.

For now, you’re just moving through a sea of spiders, trying to catch a glimpse of what you’re supposed to be doing here. Trying to figure out why you were chosen over the infinite other versions of you in the multiverse.

—

So far you’ve been on 2 and a half missions. The half was when you were forcibly sent home and effectively grounded for a week. Apparently, talking to civilians while standing guard is prohibited, even when they’re selling dip’n’dots. What? It was a long ass mission. And it was hot!

This one is your official third mission. It’s quite simple, in theory. Just travel to Earth-275A, infiltrate a tech lab, pick up some – worryingly volatile – equipment, and go home. Easy.

Except, it didn’t exactly go that way.

It’s just you, Miguel, Gwen, and Jess on this mission. You and Jess were placed on lookout duty (you on the roof and Jess on the ground with her bike), while Miguel and Gwen broke in and out of the building. It was all running smoothly, each spider occasionally muttering quietly through the radio whenever their positionings changed. Otherwise, it was silent. And frankly, a bit boring.

You idly kicked around some pebbles that somehow found their way onto the roof of this tall ass building, sometimes smacking them against the half wall separating you from falling a thousand feet downwards. You were actually dying to get back to HQ because you briefly spotted Hobie talking to Parker and Mayday before you had to go. He’s been quite absent lately, and you want to show off some of the new moves you learned this week.

Then, there was suddenly action.

A huge explosion surges out the right side of the building that O’Hara and Stacy were infiltrating. That mission plan was not kidding when they described the ‘volatility’ of the shit inside of those supply crates. Deep creaking and smashing objects follow the blast. You watch as the tallest building in the city starts to tilt. Shit, the explosion must’ve taken out some of the support beams.

You hear Miguel yelling your name through your earpiece, as well as heavy breathing and crumbling concrete in the background.

“Y-yes? Copy–”

“You and Gwen collect the crate and get out of here. I already called for a portal. Jess and I will get surrounding civilians away from danger.”

“Understood, sir.” You don’t usually call him anything like ‘sir’, but the stakes are high and complete compliance is needed at this moment.

“Crate is located on the top floor, Stacy is already there waiting for my word.” You briefly shake yourself out, mentally preparing yourself to scale the larger building in front of you.

With a quick fwp, you attach your web to the nearly as tall building next to your target to give yourself some leverage. You jump without even giving yourself time to think about it, tugging slightly at the web, making sure to collect as much kinetic energy as possible. You release the web when you get to the highest point and spit out another web to get you to the top floor of the building. Luckily the blast took out the windows so you could easily enter the floor.

There, Gwen stands next to a crate with several scientists and guards nicely pasted onto the walls with perfectly placed webs on each limb and over their abdomens.

“Took you long enough.”

“It’s been 30 seconds!”

“Relax, I’m teasing.” She shoots out a couple of webs and connects them to the crate. “Here, help me out with this.” You follow her movements, pulling at your webs slightly to get a good evaluation of its weight. Surprisingly, it moves quite easily, almost three inches from your soft tug.

“Why’re we both doing this when it weighs 100 lbs. We have super strength.”

“I dunno, Miguel just gave us the orders. There’s probably a reason. It doesn’t really matter.” You frown realizing you could’ve been down there helping O’Hara save actual lives but instead, you were ordered to assist a teenager on a one-person job. “The portal is opening in a few seconds on the roof of the building behind us.” Gwen doesn’t seem phased. “We can just swing it with us.”

“Isn’t this shit going to blow up if we move it too harshly?”

“Not when it’s in this protective crate.” She steps closer to the broken window, mentally measuring and planning out the escape route. “That explosion earlier was from an open container.” You hum, still torn over leaving Gwen to do the delivery so you can help people get out of the way faster. “You ready then?” She’s been watching you. Clearly, your thoughts are painted on your face.

You nod briefly, “Let’s go.” Together you take each side of the crate and use your other arms to swing yourselves over to the portal that magically appears. This time, that odd purring sound of the portal is completely blocked out by the chaos going on around you. Somehow the building has still only tilted a little bit since the explosion.

As Gwen pushes the crate into the gateway, you look down at the streets, watching as Miguel and Jess work impeccably together as they save hundreds of civilians from falling debris and the inevitable demolition of the building.

Then you look back a Gwen, who’s ready to head home. Then you look down at them again.

Then your eye catches on a red sedan sheltering a terrified family that sits under the chaos.

Gwen catches your eye. “Don’t.”

“I have to.”

“Migu–”

“Would do the same.”

“--Will mur-der me.” You sigh, but quickly shoot a couple of webs downwards without looking. Gwen has her arms folded, sharing that unamused expression that Jess loves to sport. Her feet are now temporarily stuck to the floor. You’re sure she could get out of it in a second, but you can tell, she’s not going to stop you. “Don’t die.”

Right before jumping off the ledge, you send her a cheesy smirk, “Me? Never.”

----

Taglist: @deputy-videogamer @danaeaurelia @reuxxi

#miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara #spider-man

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kakushino · 8 months

Text

Purr for me

Himejima Gyomei x Fem! Reader

Happy birthday, Gyomei!

Tags: modern AU (farmhand! Gyomei), pet play (cat variety), creampie, hint of aftercare Word count: 1,4k

Masterlist

He’d always been so calm it just egged you on and on to tease him, try to make him break out of the tranquil mask and give you something, a reaction.

“Kitten, I think that’s enough.”

Yet you didn't stop, trying to escape his grip on your hips as he fingered you, three fingers in. You weren't trying to get away, per se, but you liked to think he could snap eventually, fucking you rough and fast. You'd dreamed of being absolutely railed by his thick cock - the very same one your belly was rubbing against as you wiggled in your bent-over position in his lap.

Gyomei wasn’t amused in the least. He’d had a bad day at the farm; one of the cows had escaped and he had to coax it back, which took him half the day, and forced him to rush the rest of his chores. He’d hoped to leave his stress inside of your pussy, but you were resisting him, choosing today to be a brat… like a misbehaving cat.

The thought gave him an idea just how to punish your disobedience. And he was glad the tools for that arrived just a few days prior.

The next bout of squirming made him withdraw his fingers, lifting you off of his lap and tossing you onto the bed he’d been sitting on.

“Wha-?”

He ignored you, breathing deeply as he stood. Gyomei walked over to a chest of drawers where he kept his personal items, and opened the bottom one, reaching all the way into the back for a box.

You sat up on the bed, looking at him in confusion. “Gyomei?” He’d seemed so desperate… You did get a reaction out of him, but not the one you wanted.

Your lover returned to the bed, carrying a black box, still silent. You were curious what he’d planned for you.

It didn’t take long for you to find out. Before you knew it, the calico cat ears were on your head, and you were laying face down, ass up, trembling a little. Your arousal ran down your thigh sluggishly.

His large hands soothed over your ass cheeks, squeezing gently. “We can stop anytime you want.”

Gyomei gave you a moment to say the established safeword but you didn’t say anything at all. Satisfied, he reached for the other accessory for your little play tonight. A cat tail butt plug, matching the ears.

You heard him open a bottle of lube, your pussy clenching around nothing at the sound, and then his warmth was at your backside, his thick cock sliding between your pussy lips, coating him in your slick. His left hand pulled your cheeks apart a little, his tip at your entrance, something cold pressing against your ass and then-

Both slipped in - his cock and the tail plug - making you flinch at the mix of sensations. Gyomei remained motionless, cockwarming his tip inside you as you adjusted to the fullness in both your holes.

“This is- too much, Gyomei,” you panted out, rising to your hands and trying to pull away. His hands gripped your hips tightly, halting you.

He leaned over, his massive frame caging you. His tummy pushed against the tail - and the plug - lightly, pressing it a smidge deeper, yet it felt as if he was stirring up your insides, as unused as you were to the feeling.

“Kittens don’t speak, they only meow,” he positively purred into your ear.

Blood rushed to your face at his comment, unable to even meow before he slid his length inside, inch by delicious, thick inch - and when his pelvic bone met your ass, pressing against the plug again, you nearly wailed.

“How is it that every time I slip into your pussy, it feels just as amazing as the first time? It’s indescribable.”

Gyomei set a slow pace, barely moving, his thrusts shallow yet every time he pushed in fully, he rolled his hips, hitting all the right spots. You could only moan, your arms trembling, back arched. One of his hands left your hips tugging at the tail a little, reminding you what you’re supposed to be, supposed to do. Tears gathered in your eyes at the overstuffed feeling and you meowed for him, the sound breathy.

“I’m starting to think you enjoy this, kitten.” You could hear the grin in his voice.

Abandoning the tail for now, he reached under, touching your stomach with his rough hand. He didn’t have to search long for what he wanted to find.

“Oh kitten, do you feel that? Feel how I fill you up so well that you can feel it right here?” His palm pushed against the bulge in your belly, making you mewl, your arms slipping, and you fell on your face.

His other hand reached under your neck, picking you off of the pillow to allow you to breathe, as you were clearly too overwhelmed to do it for yourself. Despite his gentle handling of your throat, his thrusts grew harsher with each passing second.

“I’m not playing tonight. You deserve this. I’m gonna fuck you as hard as I can. Make you mine-” Gyomei groaned, his pace soon turning to outright plowing, loud and wet smacks of skin on skin echoing in the bedroom, your stimulation doubled - both holes clenching against the intrusions tightly.

Your mind was blank, save for the shocks of pleasure each rough thrust brought you. Your fingers tried to find purchase in the bedding, your movements back against him miniscule, yet still there, as you chased the ecstasy he brought you.

And he noticed, of course he noticed. He noticed because every twitch of your snug cunt felt like Heaven on his dick.

“You’re insatiable. It’s like you want me to break you.”

His hand left the stomach bulge to tug at the tail again. Gyomei bullied every little insignificant thought out of your head - all that filled it was Gyomei, Gyomei, Gyomei-! Yet not a word left you, only whimpers and moans filled the room.

He slowed down, letting you feel just the glide of his cock back and forth, not bottoming out at all yet the noises- You tried to push back, to get more-

“A good kitten should beg for it,” he murmured. And stopped.

A dry sob left you, about to beg with words, when he tugged at your tail a little, reminding you of your role.

You yowled, and meowed, trying to sound pleading as you could without speech, hoping beyond hope he would take pity on you and give you what you needed.

Gyomei delivered, a merciful God blessing his worshiper, fucking you with roughness you wouldn’t have guessed your lover was able to bestow upon your frail body.

You quivered, a knot of tension quickly growing in your belly. Each snap of his hips, each mind-numbing shock of delight, each movement of the plug - it was too much.

Your orgasm crashed upon you faster than your scrambled brain could register, and you let out a half-moan and half-meow, somehow coherent enough to remember you were to be a kitten right now.

Your ears rang, body going slack; the only things holding you up were Gyomei's hands - cradling your throat and holding your hip. A muffled groan registered in your mind, the next thrusts sloppy and deep - before he slammed inside, grinding against you, rubbing and pushing the plug inside more. You cried out at the feeling.

His cum flooded your pussy, and it spilled out around his cock, coating both of you in the mess.

Gyomei stayed as he was, both of you panted heavily, coming down from your highs. Your fingers trembled as you reached up to caress his hand at your throat, a silent thanks for helping you up to breathe during the act. His cock twitched a little at the gesture, a grunt escaping him.

"You okay, kitten?" he finally said, voice strained. The thumb of the hand on your hip drew lazy circles, grounding you back on Earth.

"'mkay," you whispered. You placed your arms on the pillow, helping support yourself. "Could use a bath, though…"

"Of course." He chuckled, his breath evening out. Gyomei leaned over your body carefully, placing soft kisses on your shoulders as you both relaxed in the afterglow. "Bath and bed for my kitten. You did well for me… Thank you."

You closed your eyes, enjoying his attention. "Always…"

#desi the blue eyed kakushi #himejima gyomei x reader #himejima gyomei #gyomei x reader #gyomei x y/n #gyomei x you #gyomei #demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #kny #kakushino

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