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thedovesaredying · 8 months

Note

Hi I'm hyperfixated over your zombie! Ghost and I've been reading it every hour since it was up, it's the idea of him only acting upon his own primal urges get me going 🤤 i don't know if your zombie! Ghost is a dead person who became zombie or just an infected living human but either way I'm so down!!

I thought about what if reader leaves the muzzle on him all the time and do the usual stuff, pull him by it when they walk about looking for food and medicine, loosen it a bit when he tries to eat whatever is in his zombies menu and of course tugging it backwards as you ride him 🩵

- 🌋

Anon! Your brain!!

I’m glad I’m not the only one weak for our Zombie lad. I actually have a bunch more I want to write about him, so feel free to request more for him at any point uwu

A little snippet for you below the cut <3

Words: 780

Rating: NSFW

Warnings: Teratophilia, PnV, Unprotected Sex, Muzzles.

Reminder, this is an 18+ account!

Ghost has been in quite a huff with you recently or, at least, you think he is. It’s a little difficult to tell given his difficulty stringing full sentences together after the infection ravaged his brain. He’s still cognisant and able to get his thoughts across to you (even if most of those thoughts involve being hungry or wanting to fulfil certain urges).

However, his attention span isn’t the greatest and he’s constantly getting distracted by things in your surroundings. Wandering off like a toddler at every new sound, checking to see if there’s food or a potential threat hiding around every corner. No matter how many times you ask him to try and focus, he’ll inevitably end up finding trouble.

The other zombies aren’t much of a problem since he can chase them off with a few well-placed swipes and growls to remind them of their place. It’s the other survivors you’re worried about. It’s a lawless land out here and anyone that’s survived this long knows to shoot first and ask questions later. This doesn’t bode well for your zombified partner. He’s an enemy and when he has his sights on a potential meal there’s little you can do to deter him from attacking.

Hence, it’s easier to simply keep him at your side. The muzzle works wonders for when you need to gently steer him away from distractions, even if he occasionally gets a little grumpy at having to be pulled around by his face. He can’t nose his face up against you properly when it’s in place which often makes him grumble and sigh a tad overdramatically.

You take it off when you go to sleep, after all, it wouldn't do you any good to have your guard dog unable to use his best weapons. Ghost doesn’t require sleep anymore, so he makes an excellent protector for when you’re in your most vulnerable state.

He stays with you all throughout the night, his body pressed up against your back and his arms caging you to his chest. His lips are dry and completely missing in some parts, but that doesn’t stop him from trying to lave every inch of you with kisses. A soft rumbling sound always accompanies his affections, almost a purr.

But the uses of a muzzle don’t stop at simply helping to direct your companion whenever he starts to drift away. It’s particularly useful for manipulating his face to exactly where you want it, be it away from something he wants or toward the places you require his attention.

Riding him is only more intense when you’re able to grip at the thick leather straps keeping his muzzle in place. He tries to press his mouth to your throat, but you hold him back, forcing his milky white eyes to stare directly into your own as you slowly sink down on his cock. It’s beautiful, the way his eyelids flutter and a frankly sinful groan escapes him.

“Good boy,” you coo, earning yourself a rough jerk of Ghost’s hips. He starts rocking his body up and into your warmth, his gloved hands raising to grip at your waist.

He pulls you down and onto him over and over again in time with his rapid thrusts, snarling and growling all the while. Ghost might not be able to shift his gaze from your blissed out expression, but that doesn’t mean he’s any less in control. The pace he sets is downright brutal, bullying his entire length into your sopping cunt until it nudges at your cervix.

Even when you gasp at the sensation and one of your hands grips at his hair he doesn’t faulter. Your noises seem only to urge him on, his panting breath heavy as he endeavours to draw out at many sounds from your lips as physically possible. His intense gaze from where you hold his face only heightens the experience, his eyes scrutinising each and every expression you offer.

You grow close to orgasm almost embarrassingly fast, but all it takes is a raspy, possessive, “mine,” snarled at you to have your pussy clamping down around Ghost’s cock.

With your body growing weak from coming so hard, Ghost takes full advantage of your distraction, pushing you down and onto your back without missing a single beat in his current rhythm. He keeps going all through your orgasm, the slick from your tender hole only helping to easy his way. He doesn’t let up with his desperate chanting of, “mine, mine, mine,” right up until he spills deep inside you.

Your attempts to dominate him hadn’t exactly gone to plan. Perhaps next time you should use some handcuffs as well.

#writing #call of duty modern warfare #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x you #reader insert #terato #ask dove #dyingdovefics #🌋anon

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sehtoast · 2 months

Note

umm hey what about a hands worship short fic cough cough

For him or you? >:) This got a little out of hand, but that's the best part!

18+ | finger sucking, grinding, smutty smut smut

Reciprocity has always been a strong feature in your relationship with Homelander. He loved you to pieces, you loved him to bits. He thinks about you all day, your thoughts are consumed by him constantly. It was an odd little thing, but neither one of you could ever find yourselves disliking it.

Especially now.

You’ve always had a thing for his hands. Gloved or not, they were gorgeous and you were all too pleased to vocalize such things to him. Of course, he had his own thoughts about yours. About how lovely your fingers are in his mouth, how sweet your flesh tastes cradled by his tongue– soothing, even.

Normally his head would be resting in your lap as he laved over your fingers, but today you’ve got him straddled on the couch– and things are different. He gets what he wants, and so do you.

He watches you moan around his thumb, twitching in his pants as he imagines something far thicker and sensitive taking its place. You can feel him gulp around your fingers and you can especially feel the way he shifts under you. Just a shimmy of the hips as you both taste each other.

Your other hand holds his loosely, thumb trailing the curve of his knuckles. You take note of every detail– the valleys between them, the ridges of bones and the soft bumps of veins you can never quite help but ogle. You can feel the muscle inside– the strength and power this god among men wields. He could shatter you with those hands, but instead he chooses to slip his thumb further back against your tongue, humming deep around your fingers.

His eyes are hazy as he looks at you. The corner of his mouth is quirked in a smirk and he shifts beneath you again, then an arm wraps around your waist and starts to move you. Back and forth, he coaxes you to grind against him, so you do.

You see how his eyes flutter and roll with each movement of your hips. He’s so gorgeous. Everything about him is so fucking beautiful that you don’t know what to do with him half of the time. You pop his thumb free and trade it for his first and middle fingers, suckling them as you move.

A whimper vibrates against your digits and his hips buck up against you. Homelander sinks down the slightest bit for leverage and starts to roll into every motion of your core, panting hot breaths against your knuckles. His arm never leaves your waist, directing you as you two mime the act that’ll absolutely be coming later.

You feel it building, a warm knot in your core coming to a head like a runaway train– closer and closer by the second as you take in his features and feel his slender fingers creep back your tongue. You grip his wrist tight, eyes clenching shut and–

It hits you all at once. The force of your release makes your thighs quiver around him and your moans sing through the room. You bite down against his knuckles, half insane at having come with them in your mouth– then truly insane as you feel Homelander suck harder against your own and whine through his orgasm, face pinched in pure bliss as he spills in his pants.

You’re almost disappointed when his digits slip free, but it's quickly replaced with contentment when they’re replaced by his lips, warm and wet against yours.

He gives you a lazy grin and leans his head back against the couch, and you follow suit to rest your face against his neck. You’ve got a few minutes before he worships the rest of you.

#homelander #homelander x reader #homelander smut #homelander fanfiction #antony starr #request

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laurorne · 25 days

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༊*·˚ BUT A WHISPER || criston cole x targaryen!reader

summary: a knights love for his lady isn’t always innocent, nor wholly good. and it seems, ser criston is entirely and utterly infatuated with you, and you don’t entirely mind it.

warning(s): nsfw!! softcore yan! criston, smut, religious mentions, semi-public make out, dry humping, criston leave targaryen princesses alone challenge when? (reader is implied to be targaryen but there’s no parental mention)

word count: 574

a/n: hii!! this is my attempt at getting back into writing nsfw on a blog, this is only a drabble because i just wanted some quick practise, but if you wanna request anything, feel very free to :))

a muffled breath, the creak of leather as his gloved hands tighten on your cheeks. thumbs caressing your jaw as he smothers your lips in a kiss.

desperate, needy, wanton.

he pants, lips still brushing yours as he takes a shallow breath to press back to the plush of your lips. his hips knocking against yours has the hilt of his sword prodding your side as he pushes impossibly closer.

you’re surrounded by him, in tough leathers and fine fabrics. your arms are quick to wind around his neck, chest pressing up into him as you allow him to indulge recklessly. in the middle of a hallway, teased and wanting. his tongue pressing against your bottom lip, tracing the flesh and begging for permission, begging for reassurance that you want him just as badly. you do.

he pulls away, lips pressed to the curve of your cheek as one of his hand traces the curve of your neck, falling lower and lower to your ribs. thumb brushing through the fabric of your dress onto the skin below your breast. “this is a bad idea, criston.”

a fluttering open mouthed kiss and a swipe of his tongue, and he’s devoted. “i love you.”

it’s weak and it’s whiny and god it stirs something within you. something curling and angry and sweet all at the same time. fluttering at the pit of your stomach as he follows the pulse of your arteries.

in the near absent light, his dark brown eyes have you. have your heart beating against your rib cage wildly, pleading to be let out. begging to be let out of its cage and placed within his. his hand leaves your ribs in favour of a fist full of thigh. hoisting the leg up to lay flush against his. the heat of his body heady against yours, comforting and unbearable all the same.

he’s pawing at the cloth, attempting to move it out of his way and gain access to what he really wants. a snug home for him, only him. he’s lucky, by the seven is he lucky. to even have the chance to touch you like this. frantically and desperately in a deserted hallway in the dead of the night. to have you allow him to take it this far, you are gracious.

your hand trails down his chest, past the open slip of his chest and to the lacing lower. near the leather belt and the sloppily tucked in ends of his shirt. “you are far to needy, sweet knight.”

he pants against your pulse point, open-mouthed and needy. he continues his endeavour on your throat though, he’s past your teasing comments by now. he presses butterfly kisses to that spot on your throat.

tongue laving over the spot before he bites down on it, not daring to suck hard enough to leave a mark on your skin, no, never. you’re to beautiful for such depravity. “and you are far to accomodating.”

criston rolls his hips into yours, pressing far closer than before so you can feel just how much your accomodation has effected his greed. you stick the breathy moan growing in your throat with a pin as you share a pointed look with him. at which he jostles you mockingly, thigh pressing up into your cunt as his hand roughly cups your breast through your dress. thumbing over your nipple as he inhales the oils you’d bathed in today.

his devotion makes something stir in you, you’re not entirely sure you hate this attention either.

#house of the dragon #hotd #criston cole x reader #criston cole x reader smut #if loving how pathetic he is #is a crime??#i’m guilty af ngl #he’s a baddie guys #i swear #targaryen!reader

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lace-coffin · 4 months

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Hello 🤗 I was wondering what kinda rules do you think Asa would have set for one of his pets? I imagine he'd be really particular about them giving him respect and being submissive, but do you think he has a concrete set of written rules or more of a general guideline of what he expects. Idk of that made sense lol.

What rules does Asa have for his pet/SO? (NSFW)

Asa Emory x gn!Reader

Trigger warning for power/bdsm dynamics and general Asa Emory things.

Requests are open!

This is a super fun ask omg! I love love love talking abt what kind of dom Asa is so I’m so happy with this request!

Honourifics- honourifics are always to be used when addressing or replying to asa. Sir, master are used regularly. If you really want to rile him up then daddy or Mister work prefect, the perversity of it doing something animalistic to him. Calling Asa God or “my God” will draw out his more sadistic egotistical side, tell him how you’re only committed to him, your life is in his hands and you’re nothing but the ground beneath him. Lave over his heavy leather boots in worship.

Collars and marking- collars are worn daily, taken off at night so you can sleep comfortably and not risk choking (he wants to be the one doing the choking ; ) ) if you’re uncomfortable with a full collar then a daytime collar can be worn, usually a chain of some sort with your name tag and return information on it. “Cricket, property of The Collection, if lost return to Asa Emory”

Respect- disrespect will not be tolerated, talking back or lashing out will end in punishment, it depends how severe the offence was. Ignoring him or muttering a rude comment under your breath might earn you a single slap to the ass to correct you in the moment. Having a smart mouth the whole day will have worse consequences and may require a scene to be planned and negotiated prior.

Scenes - your BDSM relationship with Asa is a 24/7 dynamic, this means all the planning and communication comes with it. You use the traffic light system, green for good/continue, yellow for slow down or take a break and red for stop. Asa would never do anything you don’t want or consent to, he may be strict and domineering but your safety is key to him. If your mouth is restrained or you’re not feeling up to speaking in sub space then there are non-verbal safe words in place for you to use.

Clothing and inspections - all clothing is to be approved by asa before you get ready for the day, you can either pick out an outfit on your own and have it approved or let your master choose one and lay it out on the bed ready for you. He’s more than happy to aid you in getting dressed, loving the sense of dependancy you show him.

Bodily inspections are done once a week, Asa prides himself on keeping you in the best physical health he can, this doesn’t end at just an ordinary checkup however. Slipping on his latex gloves (unless ur allergic!) and prying your holes open, delving his fingers into you as your squirm against them under the guise of checking you’re healthy. Filthily commentating the entire time. “Look at that pretty pink hole, stretched open all for me”

Scheduled meals and bedtimes - Asa likes routine and can get antsy when running behind (totally not me projecting my autism onto him) this transfers over to your routine too. Lunch and dinner (and dessert < 3) are served at the same time every day, asa expects you to be ready and waiting at the table. A strike will be added to your chart if your late. Three strikes and a punishment will be given. Sir will decided where you dine everyday, if you’ll be joining him at the table or eating on the floor from a personalised bowl. Breakfast isn’t at a set time, he knows the amount of sleep you get/need will fluctuate so he’s happy to let you sleep in until you feel ready to get up.

Bedtime is usually also at a set time, around 1 am, he knows you’re not a child and won’t make you sleep early but still wants you in bed at a reasonable time, usually ushering you into bed at 12 and giving you an hour to read to watch videos. Usually you either share a bed with asa or sleep in your kennel/cage, sometimes in a combination of the two you sleep at the foot of the bed.

Language- Asa discourages the use of swearing but he won’t punish you for it, he might give you a stern look but that’s the extent of it.

Chastity - your sir has a dainty key hanging on a chain around his neck at all times, your body is his as is your sexual pleasure and your genitals. Chastity devices are worn until he decides it’s time to play, attempts at touching will result in punishment, he does however like the desperate look on your face as you rut against the fabric of the sofa like a pathetic mutt in heat. He won’t let you know that though. Sometimes he’ll bring you to the edge of orgasm, panting and whining as your body shakes, only to remove his hand/cock or toy and slide the device back on. The pitiful cries and “it’s not fair”s from you after are even more beautiful than seeing you cum in his mind. Don’t lash out or act out after otherwise the time spent without release will be extended just to spite you.

Relating back to food and drink Asa expects you to drink a minimum of 500ml of water or juice a day, he knows 1-2 litres is unrealistic and doesn’t want you needing to pee constantly. He’s happy as long as your hydrated, if you have particularly bad days with fatigue or depression he’ll help you drink by bringing the straw to your mouth as he holds you. Medication needs to be taken at the correct time, both your alarm clock and Asa’s watch has an alarm set on it so you don’t miss it.

Whilst Asa can be sadistic most of his rules are for your wellbeing along side your obedience, only wanting the best for you whilst you’re under his control.

I hope u like this!! Was literally so fun to write! I love this chunky bug man and ungodly amount <3

#slashers #slasher x reader #slasher headcanons #asa emory #asa emory x reader #writing #my writing

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visiosatanae · 8 months

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Trying to overcome my sadness and anxiety with smut, so here's a short little something with heavy daddy Papa kink Copia.

MDNI - Smut under the cut

It was quiet. Too quiet. Copia hadn't heard any noise from you in the last few minutes, which meant someone wasn't doing as they were told.

"Dolcezza…" his tone was edged in warning.

He heard the tell tale jingling of a bell from the other side of the room. His lip twitched.

"I can't do it, Papa," your voice was soft.

"That doesn't mean you're allowed to stop."

He heard you sigh, the tinkling of the bell starting up again as your tired hips ground into the pillow on the bed. You were completely bare except for the collar hanging around your throat, and connected to it was the source of the jingling. You had come to Copia with an ache and needing relief. But Papa had work to do, so this was his solution - having you grind yourself on one of his pillows while the collar let him keep an eye (or ear) out for you.

You whined internally. The friction from the pillow was nice at first, but it could only get you so far before you were needing more. And he knew it. The amount of sleepless nights where he had done just the same gave him some perspective into your frustration. But your whines and whimpers were all too amusing. And arousing. He wasn't sure he could focus much on his work anyway.

Standing from his desk, the look of desperation on your face turned to one of anticipation as he came closer. He looked down into your eyes, frustrated tears threatening to spill over.

"Keep going, Principessa," he murmured, his gloved hand coming to gently caress the side of your face. You leaned into his touch, lust and adoration all too evident in your eyes. His thumb stroked your bottom lip before pushing itself inside, making you moan as you sucked on the soft leather. The dinging of the bell increased, your motivation returning with his attention. He watched as you sucked the digit in your mouth, feeling himself grow harder at the feeling of your tongue laving over the pad of his thumb. "Brava ragazza," he hummed, finally removing his hand.

You looked up at him questioningly before you felt him softly push you down onto your back, the bell clanging harshly as you fell onto the bed. He grabbed the pillow that had previously been between your legs, raising it up while never breaking eye contact with you. Your breath caught in your throat as he pressed it to his face. Inhaling deeply, his eyes finally closed leaving you to look back at the black sockets of his papal paint. He exhaled with a growl, tossing the pillow back to the bed before crawling towards you.

"I guess you do deserve a reward, after all," he groaned as his clothed erection brushed against the mattress. He brought his face towards your waiting pussy, his eyes taking in how it weeped for him. You were practically panting in anticipation as he finally, finally, gave you what you needed.

Your hips bucked up into his mouth with a cry as his lips met with your folds, the bell tinkling again at your neck. But he didn't devour you as he normally did. Instead he worked over you slowly, methodically, intending to savor your frustrations as he deliberately avoided your clit. Your supposed reward felt like even greater punishment. Soft whines and moans escaped you as you attempted to grind your cunt into his face, but he held you down in place with ease, causing a sob to wrack through your chest.

"P-Please, Papa, please," you begged, delirious with your need for release. But he ignored your cries to attend to his meal instead, groaning at your taste on his tongue. Tears fell freely now as you felt yourself begin to break from his cruelty. "Oh, Papa, please…"

He finally lifted himself up, black paint smeared across his lips and chin. "What is it you are wanting, hm?"

You didn't have the usual reservations you normally would when he wanted you to use your words, the torture had been too great. "I want to cum, Papa, please make me cum, please." Your words spilled from you without restraint, begging for relief. "I've been such a good girl, please Papa…"

"So polite," he teases, finally relenting. The thumb that had previously been in your mouth finally came in contact with your clit, your back arching with a cry as he made soft little circles there. You sobbed as you already felt yourself near the edge, his touch alone giving you the push you needed. His mouth came back to your folds, working his tongue down inside you. Your hands fisted into the sheets as you neared closer, and closer still. "Cum for me," he growled, his own need breaking his composure, "Cum on your Papa's tongue, dolcezza."

His words were the final straw as you felt yourself be flung over the edge with a scream, wave after wave of pleasure crashed over you as you came. The bell jangled as your body shook from the force of it, finally able to grind yourself onto Papa's face as much as you needed. He moaned into your cunt, drinking up everything you had to offer him like a man dying of thirst. Pulling back ever so slightly, he watched the last of your orgasm die down, your pussy contracting and clenching around nothing. It made his cock ache.

"Papa, oh Papa," you babbled almost incoherently as you came down from your high, not even realizing as Copia freed himself from the confines of his pants. You only did once he grabbed your hips, pulling you to him so his cock rested against your folds. You looked down at it, eyes still hazy from your tears. But even through the obscurity, arousal shot through your core.

"Don't think we are done yet, Principessa."

#the band ghost #the band ghost fanfic #nsft #smut #visific #papa emeritus iv #i just need him so bad 😞

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multi-fan-dom-madness · 7 months

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Midnight Masquerade - Echo

Chapter Summary: Echo is the lucky bastard who gets to fuck you—or maybe you're the lucky one.

Chapter Warnings: siren!Echo x gn!reader; kinks: formal wear + voice kink. unprotected penetrative sex (can be read as PiV or PiA), cum as lube, Echo has hair because I say so, this one's a little more tame on the 'monster'fucker front but I hope it ticks some boxes for y'all regardless; if I missed any warnings please lmk!

Word Count: 2.6k

Read the intro here! | Suggested listening

...Echo.

A round of wolf-whistles rises from the rest of the table (quite literally, in Hunter’s case). Echo jostles you with his elbow, a good-natured grin gracing his features. Quirking an eyebrow at him, you drink in the sight of him sitting next to you. His perfectly tailored suit hugs his body in all the right places, thighs straining against the fine material; the silken red bowtie at his neck draws your eye appreciatively down the strong column of his throat. His hair has grown back in a fuzzy nest of brown curls that he’s slicked back. In short, he looks positively mouth-watering. That’s exactly what happens as you rake your gaze over him.

“Get a room, you two,” Fives jeers, playfully tossing a balled up napkin at you.

It bounces harmlessly off your face. You flash him a rude gesture before rising to your feet, offering your hand to Echo.

“Shall we?”

He takes your hand. Against your skin, his satin glove is smooth and warm, the strength of his grip belied by the entrapment. You suppress a shiver as you step away from the table, Echo trailing you, fingers laced through yours.

As you begin to wind your way through the crowd, you shoot a glance over your shoulder to Echo. He smirks at you, one eyebrow raised as if in question. In the strobing, multicolored lights, he looks near ethereal, a vision stepped straight out of one of those high-end Coruscanti model holos. You bite your lip.

His smirk deepens. Tugging you back against his chest, he wraps his scomp arm around your middle to hold you against his chest. He carefully presses his cheek to the side of your head, mindful of his headpiece, and inhales your scent.

“Care for a dance, cyare?” he asks.

A delightful, full-body tingle shivers through you at the way his voice rumbles against your ear. “You read my mind.”

He hums, the sound sending another frisson of exhilaration cascading through all your nerves. Not releasing his hold on you, your hands still entwined where he brings them to rest on your hip, he finds the rhythm of the song, a deep, bassy, sexy beat that vibrates your bones. Gently, giving you enough leeway in case you decide you want to pull away, he guides your hips to the music.

It’s all the encouragement you need. Circling your hips, you grind your ass against his crotch, earning a low, groaning chuckle. Snaking your hand free up and back, you thread your fingers through his curls. Echo turns his head, pressing a hot, open-mouthed kiss to the pulse point just below your jaw.

A gasp escapes you, lost in the consuming bass of the music. He laves at that spot, nipping playfully.

Emboldened by the shifting, partial lighting and his lips on your neck, you grind against him again as you draw his hand up your chest. A moan tumbles from you as the half-hard definition of his cock presses against you through layers of clothing. His fingers dance over your chest, tweaking a nipple through your shirt.

“Feel what you do to me, pretty thing?” he murmurs, voice sliding like honey over your ears. “Drive me kriffin’ crazy.”

You’ve never realized it before, but stars, you could listen to Echo talk all day. He could read a damn dictionary and you’d be enthralled. Turning your head, you peer up into his eyes, mere pinpricks of shine in the green-tinted lights flashing around you. Dropping your gaze to his lips, your eyelashes flutter.

“What d’you want, cyare, hm? Tell me,” he urges, eyes fixated on your parted lips.

“I want,” you begin, voice tremulous, “I want to kiss you.”

“You wanna kiss me?” he repeats, a dangerous smirk curling over his face.

Gulping, you nod. You don’t trust your voice now to not reveal the intensity of the fire scorching through your veins.

With a contented sigh, Echo tips his head forward and captures your lips in a heated kiss. His scomp tugs you tighter against his chest as he practically ruts his hardness against your ass, When he tugs again at your nipple, you whimper into his mouth. Electricity sparks where he touches you. But he doesn’t relent, kissing you until you’re dizzy with want. Arousal pools hot and tight in your belly.

“Kriff,” you gasp as you pull away from his mouth, “kriff, Echo, stars.”

He chuckles. His gaze sweeps over the crowd around you—but no one seems to be paying you any mind. “What’s the matter, sweetness?”

“Want you,” you say, leaning your head back against his shoulder.

“Want me to what?”

His voice has dropped an octave, positively dripping with sex, and you shudder in his grasp. How can one person’s voice be so alluring, so enticing?

Rather than using your words, you extricate yourself from his embrace and, crooking one finger with a coy smile, urge him to follow you again. A bemused smile graces his features; he slips his hand into his pocket as he steps after you.

You lead him towards the back hallway you’d caught sight of earlier, down a series of blind turns, and pick a door at random. Within, there’s a simple bed with silk sheets; dozens of candles, strewn on every available surface, cast the room in a cheery, cozy glow. Echo moves past you, surveying the room with a curious expression.

“This works,” you say, shutting the door.

You take another moment to really, fully appreciate the specimen of a man before you. Echo gives you an indulgent smile. Backlit by the flickering candlelight, he looks divine; the crisp lines of his black suit outline his silhouette in exquisite fashion. Up close, you realize that the fabric isn’t solid black, but rather one shade of black embroidered with another, darker hue. Tracing one of the repeating designs, you reach with tentative fingers to unbutton the matching vest.

Only to gasp in surprise when his hand catches your wrist.

“You never answered my question,” he says. His gaze holds your own, deep and soulful and burning. Have his eyes always been that golden?

“Everything,” you say, the answer falling from your lips without a second thought. “I want you to do everything to me.”

His eyes fall to half-lidded, a sultry twist to his mouth. “Everything, cyare? That’s awfully broad. How am I supposed to pick?”

Another shiver dances up your spine as goosebumps erupt all over your skin at his voice. Echo’s eyebrows twitch at your physiological response.

“D’you like the sound of my voice, pretty little thing?” he asks, inflecting the words down, deeper, hotter.

Nodding, a more concrete idea of what you want crystallizes in your mind. “Love your voice, Echo. Can you— can you make me cum just by talking to me?”

He catches his bottom lip between his teeth, his cheeks turning a delightful shade of pink. “Kriff, yeah, baby. Whatever you want. Want to get off from me telling you everything I want to do to your gorgeous body?”

You whine, pleasurable heat pulsing through your core.

“Alright, baby.” He gestures toward the bed. “Get undressed and get comfy.”

“What about you?” you ask. You’re already shucking your clothes, but pause when he fixes you with an inscrutable look.

“Oh no,” he says, “you asked for my voice. The suit stays on. Fitting, that you’d ask me to whisper filth to you, when I’m dressed as a siren.”

Inhaling a short breath in surprise, you merely blink at him. He chucks you under your chin with a wink, then glances down at your state of half-undress. Swallowing, you hurry to strip out of the rest of the now-too tight garments and clamber up onto the silky smooth sheets. You prop yourself up with a number of plush pillows.

“Good,” Echo murmurs. He perches on the edge of the bed, one thick thigh crossed under the other, his hand supporting the way he leans. “Such a good listener.”

The praise coils through your ears and settles in your lower belly, simmering with an intense, acute heat. You can only nod, at a loss for words.

“Sit on your hands for me, baby,” he instructs. “Can’t have you cheating, now can we?”

Your chest heaves with anticipation as you shift, sliding your hands beneath your butt to trap them there. Echo’s eyes flicker a brighter gold. For a moment, he lets you sit there, core aching, skin flushed and sweat beginning to dew. At the apex of your thighs, your arousal throbs, demanding to be touched.

“Bet you feel so soft,” he says. The way he murmurs the words makes you think it’s more a thought that slipped out than an intentional statement, but the effect is the same: your nipples pebble as if inviting him to touch. He clears his throat and continues. “Nearly lost my mind out there when you pushed your ass against my dick. Nearly took you right there on the dancefloor.”

“F-Fuck,” you grit out. His voice caresses your skin, a physical presence. “W-Why didn’t you?”

“Didn’t want to put my vod’e to shame.” He chuckles. “Wanted you all to myself. Wanted to feel how you fall apart, just for me. Is that what you want, cyare? Gonna squirm for me?”

As if by his request, you push your hips in his direction, silently begging.

“Thought so,” he says. “Mm. So needy. I’m gonna make you cum just like this, and then I’m gonna fuck you until you can’t walk after, how’s that sound, gorgeous?”

“Yes, yes please, just keep talking,” you whine. The aching need in your core grows with each word he speaks, a spell weaving in the air around you, drawing your nerves along for the ride.

“You felt so good against me out there,” he continues. “Warm and pliant and body fucking begging me to take you. Gonna make you feel so good, cyare. I’m gonna suck my mark into your neck, show everyone who makes you feel this good. Make sure they know whose cock was buried in you. Fuck, I bet you’re tight, bet you need a good fucking to loosen you up. That what you need, baby? Need to be fucked out?”

You’re writhing at this point, hips jerking as if his words are physically touching you. “Y-Yes, stars, please!”

“Yeah, I know you need that.”

You have enough awareness to catch movement in his lap—he’s fucking palming himself through his pants, and the sight draws a raw, cracking moan from your chest. His eyes bore into yours for a moment, an intense, glowing gold, and a jolt of pleasure rocks through you.

“First I’d make you suck me off, get my dick all nice and wet. Your lips will look so good wrapped around me, kark. Don’t worry, I’d put my mouth on you, too. Tease you with my tongue until you’re begging for me to fuck you.

“And then I’d slip into your tight hole—ngh, kriff—” He shudders, palm stilling over his crotch for a moment. “Make you scream for me, make you moan until your voice gives out. Then I’d make you cum again, all over my cock. Fuck, you’ll look so pretty when I fuck you like that, takin’ everything I give you.”

Pleasure mounts in your body with every new word. The rough, raw edge to his voice only serves to rake tingling ecstasy over your entire body. In your belly, the knot of desire pulls tighter, tighter, tighter—you’re teetering on the precipice, ready to shatter at any moment.

A sob wracks through your form. “Echo, please, need to cum!”

“I know, baby, I know you do,” he coos. “You wanna cum? Cum for me, pretty thing. Cum and then I’ll fuck you just like you need me to.”

“Oh fuck—” Your moan chokes off into a strangled gasp as his command washes over you. All at once, the knotted core of need in your center snaps and unravels. Your back arches off the bed, hands scrabbling at the silk sheets for purchase as you cum, shouting incoherent praise to the room. Wave after wave breaks over you, each one drowning you in fresh pleasure.

Through it all, Echo murmurs sweet praise in your ear, his fingers finding purchase at your heated core. “That’s it, baby. Just like that, you’re doing so well. See? Promised you I’d make you cum, and now I’m gonna fuck you, okay, baby?”

Dimly, you register his words. Nodding, you think you beg for it—or maybe you’re just begging for the orgasm to keep going, for your body to keep convulsing and shuddering. Somewhere in the haze that begins to settle over your mind, you feel Echo’s hand grip your hip, holding your lower body still, and then he’s pushing into you, his cock slick with spit and your release.

You groan simultaneously. Walls fluttering around his thick length, you suck in lungfuls of air to steady yourself, the stretch a little painful but nevertheless immaculate. He’s so big; he’s everywhere, stuffed into your tight heat and filling your vision and caressing your flushed skin.

“Kark,” he bites out. “Not gonna last long, cyare.”

“S’okay,” you pant. “Please fuck me.”

You don’t need to tell him twice. Snapping his hips against you, his balls slap your ass with every thrust, the erotic sound echoing in the small room. Gripping one of your thighs to his chest, he squeezes it as he drives his cock into you mercilessly, his jacket discarded and the rest of his clothes disheveled. All you can do is lie there and take it, keening brokenly. His cock grazes against that one spot deep in your heat that makes stars burst across your vision. Whining, you fist the sheets to ground yourself.

“W-Where—”

“Paint me,” you gasp. “Want your cum on me.”

He pulls out immediately, his cock throbbing. Ribbons of hot, white cum splatter over your chest and tummy. Eyes locked together, you have to fight to keep your own open to catch the way that his face twists with bliss as he cums. But he makes it difficult, working his hand over your center to draw out your second orgasm.

You spasm under his touch, weakly pushing his hand away in overstimulation. Core locked up with tight pleasure, it takes you several long moments to drift back down. Heart pounding, chest heaving, you glance up at Echo with a tired grin.

He chuckles. “Holy kriff.”

“You can say that again,” you say, huffing a laugh.

His cum has begun to dry on your skin; you glance around for a towel. Echo retrieves his jacket where he must have tossed it on the other end of the bed and gently wipes your skin clean.

“Thanks,” you murmur, too blissed out to care that he’s ruining a perfectly good suit.

He shrugs out of the other garments then collapses on the bed next to you. Tangling your fingers together, you smile lazily at one another. Distantly, the music of the party reaches you, but you’re in no rush.

“So,” you murmur.

“So,” he echoes. His voice has returned to its normal gruff timbre—still incredibly sexy, but no longer magically enhanced.

You study his eyes for a moment, also returned to their normal state. With a teasing hum, you nudge him. “What happened to all the other things you mentioned? Marking me, going down on me?”

He flushes, rubbing the back of his neck. “I got...impatient.”

You laugh, a genuine, belly laugh that makes him chuckle, too.

“Maybe...” You trail off, biting your lip. “Maybe we can get dinner sometime, and then we can try those.”

Humming, he nuzzles your neck. “I’d love that.”

Ragu list: @the-hexfiles @thorsterstrudle @dystopicjumpsuit @clonemedickix @freesia-writes @littlemissmanga @wolffegirlsunite @anxiouspineapple99 @wings-and-beskar @sinfulsalutations @523rdrebel @sunshinesdaydream @moonlightwarriorqueen @sev-on-kamino @starrylothcat @deejadabbles @starqueensthings @mandos-mind-trick @idontgetanysleep @eyeluvmusic21 @wizardofrozz @mythical-illustrator @sleepycreativewriter @dreamie411 @bobaprint @originalcollectionartistry @imarvelatthestars (if you'd like to be added or removed, click here!)

#tbb echo x reader #echo x reader #echo x gn!reader #echo x you #rhiwrites #midnight masquerade #mdfm hallowkink 23 #monster fucker #siren!echo #the bad batch x reader #tbb x reader

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doki-doki-imagines · 8 months

Text

tw: smut, afab reader

author note: first post for gbf and it's smut, I'm sorry LOL. It's been a while since I last wrote something putting my mind on it so I hope you'll like it!

Siegfried had the intention to charm you the second he put his foot into the warm sand, you are sure of it.

You know your boyfriend doesn't like to expose himself, and you learnt to appreciate it, your little gem that you only can appreciate, hidden from most eyes.

So, you were flabbergasted to see Siegfried so at ease with such skimpy pants, adherent like glue on his skin and torso completely exposed for everyone to look at, because let's admit it, everyone couldn't be indifferent to such a sight.

You are sitting near the shore far away from all the crew, the wave crushing the only sound between you two.

"You look handsome today." Your voice deeper than usual while you look straight into his honey eyes, your hands grip the sand under you.

"Thanks, it's exactly what I wanted." A soft giggle escapes Siegfried's mouth, strands of hair escape his soft ponytail, and the breeze make them fly in the air.

He looks ethereal, sitting there, head tilted back, throat exposed while some droplet of sea water run down his body.

It doesn't take that much convincing to find yourself on your knees, Siegfried belts and pants barely lowered to suck him off like your life depends on it.

And it's not like Siegfried complained.

"S-slow down." He half-moans, golden eyes squinting. His big hand grabs the back of your head, but don't push you forward; as always, he has the perfect control of his body even in problematic situations.

Anyway you don't listen to him, trying to take as much as possible of his throbbing cock, sucking and laving your tongue at the sides where veins are visible. Saliva drips down your mouth, some drop fall on his balls exactly where your fingers are massaging, making the stimulation more intense.

You look at him, beautiful, wonderful, chiseled abs twitching, nipples hards begging to be touched.

Then you get pulled off, a pop can be heard together with Siegfried heavy breaths, his dick, still throbbing hit his navel, tip red a globe of cum running down his lenght.

"C'mere"

You don't have to move much, your boyfriend doing all the work, pulling your lips towards his ones, in a messy dance of tongues and spit, your hands find his shoulders, something stable to grip on while sitting on his lap, while his gloved hand go downwards, fingers playing with the hem of your bikini bottom and then delving deeper into your hot core.

A moan escapes your mouth, doesn't mean Siegfried break the kiss, if anything his tongue explores deeper your mouth, a passionate dance he doesn't want to interrupt. With the free hand he pushes your lower back towards his body, so your tummy can grind on his erection.

Meanwhile his thick fingers keep stimulating you, the material of the glove a new sensation, different from his warmth, but not less enjoyable, your essence drips down his wrist, his rhythm doesn't budge, pistoning into you, your lips parting to moan his name make even more blood run south, his boner unbearable at this point.

A particular curl of two of his fingers makes your toe curl, the moan dulled from Siegfried's mouth and the world around you waver, and not for the overwhelming pleasure, but for your boyfriend pulling you under his body.

"N-No Sieg, I wanna be on top." You says, voice frail, hands pushing on his shoulders trying to flip him over.

"Are you sure you'd be able to take it?" He talks big for someone that look as affected as you from the situation.

"Flip over, I'm gonna show you how good I can take it."

A small chuckle escapes Siegfried's mouth, but decide to listen to you, flipping you over together with him.

Ah he looks majestic under you, his hair now free, soft ribbon lost somewhere during the previous activities, one of his hands grips tightly your hips while his gloved hands...

He's licking it, still stained by your essence, his warm tongue run from his wrist to his middle finger and when it reaches the top, he suck it off, his mouth eveloping it, savouring it. While he looks at you "Always delicious" a smirk grace his face, knowing well the effect he has on you.

A smirk that soon disappear when you line up and go down on him, your hole stretching to accomodate his girth, a breathless moan leaving both your mouths. You bounce on his lenght, hands finding support on his sweaty chest while both of his hands are now placed on your hip, one slightly lower towards your butt.

"Bunny go faster, let me see how much you want it." Penetrating honey eyes look at you, it's an order, but you aren't sure you'll be able to make it.

But it's not a problem that last for much, not when Siegfried decides to take the rein and bounce you on his cock, at his rhythm.

"For someone that wanted to top me so much-" His tips hit a spot that make you both roll your eyes, mind fogging under the intense pleasure "-your willpower lasted really little." His finger grips to tight that you're sure bruises will form soon, his shaft twitching inside you and getting...bigger?

You look better at his face, eyes closed, hair getting reddish and his canines getting more pointed each second that go by. A shiver runs down your spine, not a pleasure one, the kind you feel when battling some Primals.

His cock is getting impossibly big, literally.

"Sieg-look at me please" You lean down, your chests in touch, not a lick of air could go throught your bodies, your hands cupping his sweaty face "Stay calm Sieg, I love you-" A particular harsh thrust make your lips touch, not that you minded, both your hips busy in an animalistic rhythm that the both of you can't control.

An harsh slap on your butt make you squeak, breaking the kiss "Love you too" Your Siegfried is back, blown pupils so deep but so full of love you feel your heartbeat going into a frenzy, and from there it doesn't take much more to reach your apex, Siegfried fucking you through your orgasm before cumming too, your name falling from his lips like a prayer, head falling back, sand now everywhere in his brown locks.

You lay on his body, still trying to recover your breath from the intense love-making "Are you fine?" you ask, voice still feeble.

Siegfried's lips twitch into a small smile "I should be the one asking you that." His hands massage your thighs as he gives you a kiss on top of your head.

"What happened this time? The dragon blood never took over before."

"I-" Siegfried breath heavily, chest rising up and down under you "I prefer not to tell you."

You hum, maybe it will be something to talk about another day.

A few minutes go by, both enjoying the chilly breeze of the beach and the sound of the waves.

"So now I can say that I can take your dragon form?" A small laughter escapes your throat while Siegfried huffs out, the hand massaging you now playful slap your ass.

"I guess so."

This time, you can't contain your boisterous laughter, and Siegfried smiles, eye closing, cherishing your time together

#gbf imagines #granblue fantasy imagines #gbf x reader #granblue fantasy x reader #gbf smut #granblue fantasy smut #gbf siegfried #gbf #granblue fantasy

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hederasgarden · 2 years

Text

Need

Summary: He’s quiet, even when he’s fucking you. Paring: Driver x F!Reader Word Count: 600 Rating: Explicit, 18+ only. Semi public sex over the hood of a car, PIV sex, reference to fingering with gloves and biting. A/N: For @hoe-on-the-range who lets me annoy her with all the Baby Goose talk. Enjoy the pure filth targeted at your kinks, bestie. Thank you @wildbornsiren for beta'ing.

He’s quiet, even when he’s fucking you. All you hear is the harsh sound of his breath in your ear as he fills you again and again. His body is curled over yours, pressing your chest into the hard metal of his classic muscle car. Your dress is rucked up and panties pulled aside just enough for him to have you. It’s sensory overload with the cool hood of the car against your cheek and the sharp bite of his jeans against the back of your thighs.

“Oh god,” you gasp, clenching around him.

When you try to rise up on your elbows he leans more of his weight on you and grabs your hip to thrust into you hard enough to make the car roll back. Your fingers curl into fists near your head and you moan when he yanks at the collar of your dress to give him access to your shoulder and neck. The feel of his teeth on your skin has you coming around his cock with a painful orgasm that rocks your whole body. It washes over you completely, robbing you of your breath.

He fucks you through it, his tongue replacing the sting of his teeth as he laves at the tender skin. You close your eyes, panting when he continues to fuck you until his hips finally still. He lifts off you and runs a hand down your back, pushing your dress up over the swell of your ass. Gently, he squeezes your sides and slips out of you. You don’t move, your body catching up with your brain as you come down from your high.

You hear the sound of his zipper and jolt at the feel of his gloved fingers dragging through your messy folds. He fucked you with those gloves on in the front seat of his car earlier, letting you straddle his lap and ride yourself to orgasm. After he withdraws his fingers, he tugs your underwear back in place and pulls your dress down. He helps you stand, watching you silently.

His staring unnerved your coworkers at the diner, but you learned over the years to decipher the looks men gave you. When they meant harm and when they didn't. Even though he was the latter, he still made you nervous enough to drop your fair share of dishes whenever you caught him watching. There is something overwhelming about being the sole focus of his interest. You crave it despite how anxious it could make you.

“You alright?” He asks quietly.

You nod, wrapping your arm around your middle. What he did to you felt good but now you’re left feeling a little unmoored. He steps into your space, settling a big hand against the side of your face and tilting your chin up. His kiss is achingly gentle and your lips part immediately to let his tongue into your mouth. It’s not passionate or hard like you expect, it’s meant to comfort and calm. You sigh into his mouth and sag against him as he holds you to his body.

He breaks the kiss but rests his forehead against yours. The word narrows to just the two of you and you stare into his intensely blue eyes. He smiles. “I should take you home. You have the early shift tomorrow.”

You nod, unsure how he knows your work schedule. Maybe that should bother you but it doesn’t. He makes you feel safe, protected, and that’s a rare thing.

“Alright,” you agree, turning your face up to kiss him again.

#driver x reader #drive movie #drive #baby goose #it's so dumb they never gave his character a name #ryan gosling

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shapeshiftinterest · 11 months

Text

Hang In There, Weegee!: bowser x luigi (CH 1)

based on THIS comic by @dibujos-de-la-orilla + some of my replies on that post

kamek thinks he hears an intruder in the royal office and goes to investigate

story under the read more

Hang In There, Weegee! (also on ao3)

Chapter 1, Chapter 2

“Mwuah! Hehe.”

Kamek stopped in his tracks, the sound of muffled giggling coming from behind Bowser’s royal office door. Who in the world would have the audacity to do such a thing in the king’s personal office?

The magikoopa adjusted his glasses with a huff; not on his watch!

BANG!

“Who is trespassing on royal property!?!” Kamek shouted, wand blazing. He would be sure to restore the lord’s honor even if-

Oh, it was just Bowser.

The koopa king crossed his arms, smoke billowing from his nostrils. Even while sitting he was easily 5 times as big as the royal advisor.

“King Bowser?!” Kamek exclaimed, confused. He could have sworn he’d heard a second voice. There was no way he was that old... was there?

“You just gonna stand there or what?” Bowser snorted impatiently, tapping a claw against his arm. “I’m still busy doing all this paperwork, ya know.”

Said paperwork was scattered across the desk and floor, probably a result of the advisor’s hasty entrance. Flushing in embarrassment, Kamek quickly waved his wand and whisked the documents into organized piles.

“Many apologies, Your Industriousness; I thought I heard...” Oh dear. The older koopa felt rather silly now, taking his glasses off and cleaning them on his robe to give his hands something to do.

“Well? Out with it!”

The king scratched around his collar in irritation.

“A-ah, it was nothing, Sire. Sorry to have disturbed your paperwork, I’ll be going now.” And with a quick bow the magikoopa fled in a puff of smoke, not wanting to anger the king any further.

...

“Phew!” A loud sigh was heard from behind the large koopa’s shell, The green clad Mario brother hopping down from the other’s spikes. “I almost-a thought he caught us!”

“Uuuuggh,” Bowser groaned, sliding down his seat. He wasn’t worried about the tears in the fabric, it was self fixing, like most of the furniture in his castle.

Rubbing a paw over his eyes the king lazily turned to look at his secret human boyfriend of 3 months, offering his other paw for him to take. Luigi smiled and placed a gloved hand in his, Bowser tugging him into a side hug.

“Crud,” He sighed, giving the plumber an affectionate squeeze. “We really gotta tell someone ‘bout us soon. Sneaking around’s fun but it’d be so much easier if you could just come into the castle without immediately getting attacked, y’kno?”

“Maybe the next-a time you go to-a capture ‘Princess Peach’,” Luigi winked.

“Oh shut up,” Bowser laughed, giving the other a little shove before unclasping his collar and rubbing his neck. “I think you actually gave me a hickey, Green Bean.”

“Really?” The plumber went to touch the other’s neck, Bowser leaning a little lower so he could reach. “Does it hurt?” He asked, gently pressing against one already starting to bruise.

“Psshhh, naw. I’m the biggest, baddest brute around, and don’t you forget it!” He boasted.

Luigi hummed. “Okie dokie.”

“I’m lightning in a bottle! I’m an earthquake in a can! I-” Bowser would have kept going if it weren’t for the feeling of Luigi’s tongue laving over his bite marks. The king shuddered, eyes struggling to stay open when the other kissed his jugular.

“H-haaah.”

The plumber pulled away and grinned up at him. “Why don’t-a we make-a some more, then?”

Bowser gulped.

Oh boy.

BONUS:

'there was no way he was that old... was there?' is talking about old age and deafness

bowser was scratching around his collar because he was worried kamek would see the bite marks so he was trying to cover them more with his hand

'I'm the biggest, baddest brute around, and don't you forget it!' and 'I'm lightning in a bottle! I'm an earthquake in a can!' were taken from the list of bowser quotes from Super Mario RPG: Legend of the Seven Stars

#my words #my fanfic #fanfiction #shapeshiftinterest #games #mario #bowser #luigi #bowuigi #kamek #make outs #kissing #biting #LGBTQA #kamek almost catches his son and his son's boyfriend #established relationship

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prettyboypistol · 11 months

Note

Okay so how about getting ruined by engineer, bc he got frustrated that others were messing with his work.

So to help take his anger out, you let him go as rough as he wants. And can use whatever toys he wants on you.

Blowing Off Steam || Engineer x M!Reader +18

[Rough Sex][Spanking][Dirty talk][Ambiguous Genitals for Reader][Oral][Engie calling you a "good boy"]

minors dni

A loud bang on a desk made you and your coworkers jump and look directly towards the thundering sound. Dell pointed to the door and demanded in a voice none of you had ever heard come out of him before. It was cold and laced with an edge of danger as he demanded only two words.

"Get. Out."

You had been glued to your place in the room as the other men slinked out(or, if you were Scout, sprinted). Dell glared at you, but you could only put your hands up in a surrendering gesture. You and Dell had been messing around with each other for a couple of months now, but the post-sex pillow talk had really brought you two together.

Dell stormed past you and slammed the door and loudly locked it, only to drag himself back to his workbench as he dropped his head onto the metal table. Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. was the only noise that echoed through the garage as he hit his hardhat against the steel. You couldn't help yourself. You stepped forward.

"Dell," You murmured gently, "hey man, wanna talk about it?"

Your Engineer groaned in response. "He's been, pardon my fucking language- fucking around with my machines again!"

"Scout?" You guessed.

"No, Demoman! That bastard's been tinkering with my turrets for a week now!"

Oh, that was a surprise. Tavish wasn't too bad of a person from what you had seen, but you couldn't condone drunken tampering with your man's machines.

"And like, yes the man's brilliant. Fuckin' amazing at bombs and explosives. I've looked over them- uh, them sticky bombs! Brilliant! But that don't give him the right to sneak into my workshop and fuck with my babies!"

"Oh I absolutely agree. There's a difference between explosive intelligence and mechanical intelligence. Two very different fields." You didn't know really what you were talking about, even then, it just felt right to say that. You were speaking off the cuff, and apparently it worked.

"Y'see, I don't think he'd like if I snuck into his testfield and "upgraded" his toys." Dell grumbled, his gloved hand drummed rhythmically onto the table. You tapped on the table to tell Engie that you had arrived at his side, then rubbed his shoulders. He sighed as you tried to work the knots out of him.

Dell let you explore his back through your massage, his temper dulling with every push and knead. Suddenly, you were flipped onto the table with Dell kissing your neck with an open mouth. While you weren't too upset with the change, it was quite surprising.

He tugged your shirt up as his hand slid around your chest, his large hands groped your chest as he sighed into the crook of your neck.

"Y'know babyboy, I think there's a great way to help me blow off steam, if you're willin', of course." Dell murmured before he kissed your ear softly.

You couldn't help but smile.

"Well go on Professor Genius, blow off some steam."

He shrugged his overalls' straps off of his shoulders as he kneeled down, your pants quickly unbuttoned as Dell completely overwhelmed your senses as he went right for the spot he had found that made you hold back a scream that he had found last week. Your hand slapped over your own mouth as he swallowed and laved his tongue in the exact ways that ruined you. God, he was evil.

You had given him fair warning, really! You knocked his hat off, you grasped at his shoulders, hell, you even near-sobbed that you were close! Still, he carried on and took all you had until you couldn't help but kick him away from the oversensitivity. Dell seemed to take that personally, if him grabbing you and placing him over his lap was anything to go by. "Say 'Bee' if I'm too hard." Dell explained. Before you could comprehend what he meant, a harsh smack to your ass made you squeak. Again and again, Dell spanked you until tears welled in your eyes. With every wind up and subsequent slap, Dell grumbled about the situation, accenting every grievance with a spank. After he was apparently done, he manhandled you oh so easily into sitting in his lap. He shushed you and gently kissed your neck and cheeks as his gloved hand reached onto his workbench to grab a little container of lube. He unscrewed the cap and dipped those large and boxy fingers of his deep into the liquid, only to press the slicked fingers against your entrance. "Good boy, c'mon, let me in." Dell crooned. "Let me get inside you darlin'." It felt like seconds, but soon enough Dell lined himself up and pushed you down onto him. God, he was too fucking thick for his own good. His hands on your pelvis tightened as he lifted you up and down in tandem with his hips pumping into you. You felt used. You felt as if he wasn't the Dell you loved, but a man full of horny anger that needed a release. Somehow, that was really fucking hot. "God dammit, I'm so fucking pissed off, love. So. God. Damn. PISSED." Dell ranted as he railed you. Every word was accentuated with a deep push inside you. "Ohhh why can't people leave my shit alone, hm? These nasty fuckin'-" The ranting felt like the horniest dirty talk that could ever be uttered as you sobbed in pleasure. You couldn't do anything but beg and whine as Dell rearranged your guts. There wasn't a real way to tell when Dell was close, but he suddenly switched positions to place you bent over the desk. "Good boy, fuckin' take it. Lemme get you all ruined, okay?" Dell growled as he made your screams bounce and echo off of the walls. You could only let out an excited moan and nod as he sped up. A loud groan and stilling was the only signifier before you were pressed down with rough hands and a chest against your back, keeping you in place as Dell came inside you. A few little pumps to drain himself fully made you sigh and giggle in delirium. "F-feelin' better?" You mumbled. "Yeah." Dell assured as he kissed your back and neck. "Thank you darlin'."

#engie x reader #tf2 engie x reader #tf2 engineer #team fortress 2 #tf2 engineer x reader #tf2 #tf2 x reader #tf2 fanfiction #x reader #x male reader #tf2 x male reader #good boy #team fortress fanfiction #fanfiction #Engie has MULTIPLE PhDs and you WILL respect them.#autistic-coded engineer #dell conagher #tf2 x mreader #prettyboy pistol

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vampireterzo · 7 months

Text

Kinktober Days 2+3: Tail Play + Gloves/Leather.

Pairing: Dewdrop/Aurora

Contains: Bondage, Impact Play (implied), Dacryphilla

Summary: Aurora ties Dew up and makes him cry.

(Again, using the Ghostober prompts by @kroas-adtam.)

Read under the cut or on ao3!

"You’re so pretty when you cry, Dewy.” Aurora purrs, breath tickling the fine hairs at the nape of his neck.

Dewdrop doesn’t even realize that’s he’s been crying, molten tears dribbling down his sharp cheeks. Pooling in the pink silk of the frilly pillow lining Aurora’s bed.

He is, for a lack of a better word, in a bind. Face down, ass up, tied up tight with a pretty little bow. Hands bound behind his back, gag in his mouth. Completely and totally at the mercy of the small ghoulette behind him.

His ass is burning red, bruised and littered with crimson marks. The offending instrument lies between Aurora’s legs where she kneels behind him, a sleek leather riding crop with a chrome handle. The leather tip leaves lovely little heart shaped welts in pretty pale skin.

Aurora’s gloved hands glide smooth down his heated back, tracing mindless patterns over his welted skin. Her plush lips press sweet kisses to the spade of his tail, forked tongue tugging at the jewelry there

Aurora shifts to lean against his left hip, hips straddling his leg. Her riding crop rolls with the shift, coming to a stop near his foot. Dew whines with it, toes curling. Catching on the shiny leather of Aurora’s boot.

She chuffs, a warning, teeth grazing the delicate membranes at the end of his tails. Dewdrop stills.

Lithe fingers glide up the length of the back of his thigh, up over the slight curve of his ass. She drags a gentle finger over Dew’s hole and it takes everything in him not to squirm. His dick hangs heavy between his pale thighs, angry red and dripping.

She hasn’t touched his aching cock at all, but it’s a miracle he hasn’t come yet, she’s been on him for hours. Something about putting one of her favorite sweaters in the dryer, or maybe something else. He can’t remember. Only that he’s being punished and that he *deserves* it.

“You want it, puppy?” Aurora hums, voice breaking his temporary trance, cheshire grin painted across her face. “Want it so bad, hmm?”

Dewdrop whines, tail twisting in her grip. He squirms, cock bobbing between his legs, knees sliding out from underneath him.

She turns her head, kissing down his tail. Laves her tongue over the short fur at the base. He writhes under her attention, eyes shut tight. Drool drips from the corners of his mouth, bubbling around the gag against his lips with every stuttered breath he takes.

The grip on his tail loosens, the appendage falling limp beside him. Aurora let’s lets out an evil little laugh.

“Are you tired, droplet?” She asks, in-between kisses to his back and shoulders.

He opens his eyes to look at her, huffing around his gag, teeth grinding against the plastic.

“Aww, is somebody getting mad. Poor puppy.” She chides, giving a gentle tap to the ass with the tips of her fingers.

He jolts, eyes falling shut once more.

“There we go,” She smiles, sitting back up. "My sweet boy knows better, doesn't he?"

The leather of her gloves is cold against his dick, sudden. His yelp is muffled, spit dribbling down his chin. His hips jerk, either chasing the sensation or running away from it, he doesn't know anymore. He cries out, hands writhing in their binds.

"What's wrong, Dewy?" Aurora coos. "Use your words, honey."

He shakes, thighs burning with the effort of staying upright. Her pace is unrelenting, mean. The slick leather against his heated skin is sweet agony, painful pleasure. He wants it to stop and wants to drown in it, altogether. HIs cock kicks and Aurora coos at him, determined to milk him dry. He whines, gurgling around his gag.

"You want to cum, puppy?" She whines, high-pitched and mocking. "Cum then, I'm not going to stop you this time."

He comes with a shout, wet and muffled. He writhes against her torturous grip, collapsing against the bed.

"Good boy, my sweet puppy." Aurora says, pressing kisses to his thighs. She's taken her gloves off.

The marks from the rope get massaged away, the bruises and welts covered in cream. A wet cloth is wiped gently against his back and belly. His tears are kissed away.

Whatever he did to deserve this, he thinks, he just might do it again.

#the band ghost #nameless ghouls #dewdrop ghoul #the band ghost fanfic #aurora ghoulette #dew/aurora #ky’s writing #kinktober 2023

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elliewlums · 2 years

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𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐬𝐢𝐱 — 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐤 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠(𝐬): ghostface!steddie x fem!reader

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: serial killers!steddie, blowjobs, deepthroating, ball worship, daddy kink (barely there, eddie mentions it once), mask kink, dom!steddie, sub!reader — kinktober masterlist

your knees hurt, scraping against the rough carpet of your bedroom floor as you lave your tongue over steve’s balls; they hang heavy and full and he groans as you suck one into your mouth, roll it around and suckle on it. he gasps, ruts his hips into the warm, wet cavern encasing him and his dick jumps where it’s rested against your cheek, the head leaving little precum kisses over your soft skin. eddie laughs, lowers his own balls further onto your face and watches in awe as you nuzzle into them, inhaling deeply as you wrap yourself around his thigh. his gloved hand reaches out to caress your face as you take hold of his cock, swiping your thumb over the head and giggling as his balls throb and tighten. you’re relying on sound alone to determine what they’re enjoying most, their faces covered by masks; masks that are splattered with their latest victim’s blood, that loom down on you threateningly; the danger of your boyfriends being killers only serves to make you wetter— so wet that your puffy cunt soaks your panties and they mould to you, your clit swollen and quivering with arousal.

“c’mon, angel,” steve coaxes, tapping your lips with the head of his cock and waiting for you to open up. you do, humming in content as he feeds his dick down your throat until your nose is nestled in his pubes. eddie goes back to rubbing his sack across your forehead and cheeks, the scent of him making you lightheaded as you’re surrounded by your boys completely. you choke as steve hits the back of your throat and he reaches out to stroke your hair, tucking it behind your ears.

“breathe through your nose angel. just like, fuck, just like i taught you. good girl, let me in. open that little throat for me.”

you do as he asks, inhale deeply through your nose and close your eyes when he’s finally seated in your throat. eddie laughs again, deep and rasping.

“what a little slut, taking stevie’s big cock all the way down your tiny throat, huh?” he cups your neck with one big hand, pressing down. you can only drool and gurgle around steve. “yeah, can feel him in there, baby. i know, you’re so eager. takin’ steve’s huge dick like a champ.” he pumps his own dick, ruddy and flushed, almost swollen in appearance, and moans, jerks off to the sight of your throat flexing around steve’s length, the bubbles of spit that run freely from the stretched corners of your mouth and the way that your thighs clench and your pussy subtly grinds against steve’s leg. when steve pulls you off, lets you up for a break, you whine and paw at his hips

“wanna see you. wanna see your face.”

eddie pushes you back down and grips your jaw in one of his big, ring heavy hands.

“shut up. you get what we give you, nothing more. you don’t deserve to see us yet. get stevie’s cock back in your mouth and maybe i’ll consider it. give daddy a good view to beat off to, yeah? there you go, oh, attagirl.”

#kinktober #eddie munson smut #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #steddie x reader smut #steddie x fem!reader #steddie x y/n #steddie x you #steve harrington x reader #eddie munson x reader #ghostface!steve #ghostface!eddie #ghostface!steddie #stranger things fic #stranger things smut

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sehtoast · 6 months

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Satisfy Me (Homelander x Reader PowerSwap!AU)

18+ | 3.4k, stalking, masturbation, mostly mutual masturbation, graphic violence, powerswap au, gender neutral reader | Fic Directory

Ask Prompt: Non supe hl x HL reader. Like the reader has his powers, and he's just a regular guy.

You find him by chance. Could've been any of those little ants down on 36 assigned to your old suit's preservation, but it was him.

What an ordinary fellow he was, too, running around in those little blue sweaters over his dress shirts, his soft box-dye-blonde hair, those pretty blue eyes behind dark framed glasses. It drove you nuts, but that was the best part.

John was the best part.

You fixated on him from the moment you saw how he handled a literal part of you, how he touched your suit with care and grace, expressed how much of an honor it was to be picked to take care of you.

And you? You were bigger than life itself! The fucking Homelander, for crying out loud. Of course he should be honored to preserve and maintain your old suit; it's you for fuck’s sake. So why was it that his anxious little demeanor was so endearing to you? What was it that made his promise to keep something of yours in tip-top shape turn him into the center of your attention?

Why did you find yourself lingering on 36 far more often? Going down with the excuse of wanting to see progress on the display, but really just wanting to see him, talk to him, learn about him.

Your gloved hand on his shoulder makes him nervous. You can hear his heart beat as quickly as a hummingbird’s wings as he glances up at you. His cortisone spikes, but not in the wrong way. You rile him up.

It's adorable.

You begin to watch him. You follow him along the route of the subway, trail him from his stop to the school where he picks up his son, then to his apartment. You float up at the same pace that they ascend the stairs until you're lingering outside the window to his bedroom, watching him sleep.

This becomes your routine, and god help anyone who tries to take you away from it.

You sneak in a few times when no one’s home. Roam between rooms, investigating every little piece of his life. You borrow a sip or several from the milk in the fridge, peek at the living room, investigate the bathroom. You learn the boy's name is Ryan from the little wooden letters mounted on the wall above his bed. There's not much of note in the kid's room save for action figures, lego sets, and a few stick figure doodles labeled ‘me and dad.’

John's room is where you have your fun. You start at his desk, sifting through papers and soon-to-be-due bills. You wiggle the mouse at his computer and find his desktop background to be a picture of himself and Ryan. You're almost offended that it's not a picture of you and all your star-spangled glory.

Almost. There's better things to do than care about that.

There's a closet full of clothes to run your fingers over, a drawer of underwear from which you can pick your new favorite keepsake. You settle on a pair of dark red briefs, holding them to your nose to inhale deeply, groaning as the scent of him fills your lungs. You make your way over to the nightstand where you find a drawer with a stroker and lube hidden inside a ball of paper towels. You smirk and toy with it for a time, tongue jutting out to lave over the inside, hoping and praying that there’s even a drop of him left in there.

And then there’s his bed, full of his scent. You lay on it and press your face into his pillow, breathing in several deep, focused breaths. Underneath a smell that is so uniquely him, you find a hint of something woodsy and herbal. It tickles your nose sweetly but you focus more on his natural aroma than that of his products. You want to stay more than anything. You’re surrounded by him in every sense of the word. All of your senses are bombarded by parts of him; the only thing missing is the man himself.

You roll on your back, eyes shut as you picture what it would look like to gaze up at him from that angle. How he’d look leaning above you, sweat on his brow as he drives into you over and over and over again… How he’d pant and gasp, exerting himself just to please you, just to pump you full of his love and devotion.

God, you hadn’t even realized you’d snaked your hand into your pants during the fantasy. You shut your eyes and continue anyway.

Your mind wanders back to him. You’d touched yourself to the thought of him quite a few times, but doing it in his bed?

Delicious…

You imagine wrapping your legs around him, featherlight lest you crush his pelvis. You roll him, straddling his waist as you come down hard on his cock. Beneath you is where he looks best. Squirming and panting, hips thrusting to meet you in desperate, sloppy motions. You’d be so good to him, too. You’d ride his cock until he saw stars, until the only word that could come out of his mouth is your name…

You’d let him pump you full of however many loads that pitiful, human body of his could muster, until you’re dripping with his come and he’s yours inside and out.

Maybe you’d mark him up, too. Leave some handprints at his hips, some bite marks where he’s soft… Wouldn’t be hard… Wouldn’t take much to mar that perfect skin with your claim of ownership. Some hickeys at his inner thighs, maybe an extra special one right where his cock meets his groin.

Your salacious fantasies come to a head at the same time as your pleasure. You grind against your hand as you picture what it’d be like to milk his cute little cock. Suck him dry, watch him beg and plead, let him squeeze your head with his legs as if he could possibly make you stop. You’d eat up every ounce of him and spit it back in his mouth. Make him go down on you with a mouthful of his own come.

“Oh, fffuck!” You howl, writhing on his bed, fist gripping and pressing his blanket to your nose. Your underwear are soaked, but you couldn’t care less. Not as you pant heavy breaths, your body blissful and surrounded by him.

You linger for quite a while, only breaking away for your regularly scheduled visit with him.

You had asked for a lesson about The Federalist Era - not that you really gave a shit beyond getting to consume his time. John was all too excited at your sudden interest and he offered to stay late just for you. Ryan would be with his mother, as was the case for every Friday to Sunday, and he’d have nothing but time for you.

He meets you in your penthouse with a textbook and it's everything you've got not to devour him whole. He’s so precious. You keep your gloves off, brushing your fingers over his as you point to parts of the text you ‘didn't get.’ You do everything in your power to keep him red and blushing. You scoot closer, hover in his space, lean over his shoulder. You practically eye-fuck him every time you look at him. You toy with him all night until he finishes his lesson.

He stays for another hour just for the hell of it. Just to spend time with you. It's not until he's yawning that he entertains the idea of heading home.

“Why don't you let me fly you?” You offer, smirking at how he deeply he flushes.

“Oh, I mean... I don't- I just-” He stammers. “I’m just a little scared of heights, you know?”

You scoff a laugh at his confession, taking him by the hand and leading him to your balcony. He doesn't resist you whatsoever.

“C'mon, Johnny! I won't let anything happen to ya!” You wrap your arms around his waist and begin to hover. You whisper in his ear, “I'll protect you,” and you can feel the way he shivers before nodding.

His arms wrap around your neck, textbook dangling from one hand as he presses himself against you. The higher you rise, the tighter he holds on.

“Good boy.” You breathe soft and low, thumb rubbing circles at his lower back. “I’m a much better ride than the shit they got down there.”

He clings to you the whole way home, only realizing after you've dropped him off that you somehow know where he lives.

You drive him wild. You stir a feeling in him that he hasn't had time to focus on in so long, and it's to your absolute pleasure that you get to linger and peer through his roof that night as he takes care of himself.

John fucks his fist with reckless abandon, then his toy that he just can't help but imagine is your hole. You focus extra hard, trying to make your senses pick up on everything happening in that room. You can smell the salt of his sweat, the pheromones in the air, the scent of his precum. You hear every little gasp and moan, every groan that rattles out of his pretty little mouth. The sound of lube squelching in his stroker riles you up so much more, and you’ve half a mind to burst through the fucking wall and mount him.

You tease yourself in time with him, knelt on the roof so perfectly that no one could catch you. You gaze through matter with hooded eyes to watch him, and it’s the most beautiful, tempting sight you’ve ever seen in your life. You can’t remember a time you’ve been so fucking horny as you are right then.

He comes near violently, shouting, “H-Homelander!” as he does. Your eyes roll back and a quivering moan rips from your throat as you come apart with him. He called your name.

He called your fucking name.

He’s already yours...

He works the next day for some overtime pay. Nothing stressful, just some extra document filing. You're preoccupied with filming away from the tower, much to your heavily expressed ire, and he's bored.

He's bored for the whole day, wishing you'd come by. He stays extra late, hoping beyond hope that you’ll meander in like you don’t actively choose to come down to such an insignificant level.

But you don’t.

He’s thoroughly bummed out as he steps off the train, walking the rest of the way home in the dark. He knows you didn’t forget about him; you’re just busy. Even the world’s greatest superhero’s gotta take care of their commitments, right? He’s deep in thought as he makes his way down the cold street. The yellow glow of the streetlights sets a somber feeling deep in his heart as he shuffles further along, passing the occasional stranger, hands in his pockets. He should’ve worn more than a sweater and a scarf. He had no idea it was gonna be so chilly. Or maybe he’s just so used to running hot after spending time around you.

God, had he really caught the attention of Homelander? Like, really caught it?

He’s heard stories– god knows there’s enough to go around. Was told by more than a few of his coworkers in the archives that it’s dangerous to even be around you. That there was a good reason that the loneliest spot was always at the top.

He didn’t like that, though. What he did like, however, was you. The way you look at him as though he’s worth wanting. You give him your full attention and fuck, you always come back. It’s like he matters now. He’s not just some orphan-turned-moderate-success trying to raise his son and keep from drowning under the oppressive cost of New York’s rent. Well, he still is, but he’s all of that and he’s got the attention of The Homelander!

And he finds you sweet. Like a big, scary dog that only likes him. He wants to know more about you. As much as he likes history, he’d love yours even more.

He’s so caught up in his thoughts that he neither sees nor hears the man sprinting up behind him to grab him by the scarf. John chokes harshly as he’s dragged into an alley, kicking and thrashing to no avail.

He’s thrown on the ground and he wants to get back up, fight for what little good it’d actually do, but there’s a clicking sound directly in front of his face and–

He freezes. Eyes go wide, skin chills far colder than the air alone could ever turn it. A pit forms in his gut and oh god he’s fucking helpless.

“Empty yer fuckin’ pockets,” demands the gunman, motioning down with the barrel of the firearm. He can barely see them as more than fuzzy silhouettes and he realizes that he’s lost his glasses.

He pulls his wallet and phone free shakily, laying them gently on the ground before raising his hands up in surrender. He watches the man who grabbed him go through his wallet, and he hears a scoff.

“Twenn’y bucks?” The man slurs exasperatedly. “Yer life ain’t worth twenn’y, son. Ah shit… we could sell ya! I got a guy needs a good piece’a meat to throw ‘round in his dog fights. Should see the way the mutts fight over fresh food. Y’look like good bait.”

John blinks rapidly, eyes wide and panicked as each word settles in. He tries to shuffle backward, but he’s grabbed by the ankle and yanked back.

“Bet he’d go for a few hundred. He don’t stink. Not a ton of meat on ‘im, but there’s enough,” the gunman muses. “Shit, Gordy, we might as well. Fuckin’ twenty bucks… Ain’t even worth the effort to–”

John hears a sound like fabric flapping, and suddenly everything goes silent.

Silent, until he hears you.

“Howdy ho, boys!” You greet, though your tone couldn’t be further from inviting. “Say, what’s got two idiot fucks like yourselves out tonight, eh?”

John pats at the ground, desperate to find his glasses. He needs to see this- needs to see you. His heart pounds in his ears so loudly that he can’t hear what the men say to you, only the sounds of shrill, agonized screaming. Something warm splats against his cheek and a deep, unsettling feeling in his bones tells him that it’s blood.

“C’mon, boys! It’s not that bad!” He hears you chuckle, followed by a flash of red and more howls of pain. “You guys! It’s not like I’m, oh, I dunno, feeding you to a pack of dogs?”

As he scrambles, he feels the cracked lenses of his glasses and puts them on in time to see just what you’d done.

His assailants kneel on the ground, their arms laying next to them. He swears he sees bones jutting out of their legs.

You’re elbow deep in one’s chest, smiling sadistically with every crunch and squelch as you rip free a blood drenched length of bone and shreds of muscle.

His stomach should churn at the sight of you shoving the gunman’s body to the ground. It folds in half without a spine to support it, and it’s objectively the most terrifying thing he’s ever seen. The other man whispers to himself, which must really piss you off. He sees it in your eyes. Yet, he’s not scared. Not of you.

“Greedy little thing, aren’t ya?” You muse as you stare down at the man.

John can hear him reciting a prayer.

“God? No.” You kneel down to pat his cheek, staining his skin a deep red. “No god. The only one in the sky is me.”

He watches you wedge your hands into the man’s mouth, effortlessly ripping his jaw and head apart, splitting him down the length of his neck.

John watches in a mix of awe and horror as you continue tearing all the way down through the chest cavity. There’s a sick look in your eyes. Like you’d done this before.

Like you were comfortable doing this.

So why the fuck wasn’t he afraid when your gaze flickered up to him? Why did the shakes of his body quell the minute your blood stained hands reached down to loosen the scarf still tight from when he’d been dragged?

You’re drenched in blood. The pungent liquid soaks you, drips down your collar and into your suit. It’s all over your face, coating your hair, resting thick on your eyelashes.

His hands come to settle at your cheeks, thumbs smoothing through the viscera as he gazes up at you in awe. Your grip on his arms is featherlight at most, and he’s amazed.

You are a creature of unfathomable violence. You have ripped and torn through an incalculable amount of flesh, committed sins far greater than even his mind full of historical horrors could imagine, and yet…

You hold him as though you’re afraid to break him.

Even as you gather him in your arms and fly away, you’re so gentle with him. Considerate and kind, courteous and caring as you bring him home. Your boots leave bloody prints across the hardwood floor of his bedroom as you walk him to the bathroom. You’re on autopilot and that nagging voice in your mind berates you for prioritizing some simple mud person over yourself, over the thrill of the kill.

“Are you hurt?” You hear him ask, and it leaves you deeply confused. Are you, The fucking Homelander, hurt? Are you, indestructible force that you are, in pain?

He forces you to sit on the edge of the bathtub as he scrambles around for supplies. You’re not sure why you let him move you around. Hell, you’re not even sure why you let him wash the blood from you.

Worse yet, you let him strip your upper body bare.

You let him see the truth of your suit and what you lack beneath. You’ve got the power of a god, certainly, but you’re so regular underneath the facade. But you can’t find it in yourself to care as he wipes you clean with a warm, wet cloth. Not with the way he holds the back of your head and removes the evidence of just how far your love for him will push you.

At some point your eyes lock and his hands stop moving.

Time stills, but he does not. He leans forward and takes you in a kiss so soft that you wonder if it even counts. Just a peck at first, barely even a graze of his flesh against yours. When you don’t pull away, he comes back, this time brushing his lips to yours with the slightest bit of pressure. His lips are soft, his kisses unsure until you finally reciprocate.

Then?

Oh, then he devours you with a need fit to rival your own. His arm wraps around your upper body and pulls you against him, all while your own hands scramble to grab at him. Your breaths mingle together, fanning hot and heavy against each other. He tastes blood on your lips, and you taste the remnants of his afternoon coffee. The scent of iron mixed with him surrounds you, and god it is the most exquisite aroma.

His taste, his scent, his touch, his sweet little gasps…

You want it all.

He pulls away once he, fragile human that he is, gets dizzy. John giggles breathlessly against your mouth, tongue sliding over his lower lip to lap at your lingering taste. You smile in return, indulging in something you’ve never quite felt before. His hands still roam, and you’ve a pretty good idea of exactly where this night will end up once he’s got the rest of that pesky blood wiped from you. For now, though, you’re satisfied even if you’re not entirely satiated.

After all, you’ve truly proven yourself to be–

“My hero…”

#homelander x reader #homelander #homelander fanfiction #homelander smut #antony starr #the boys #this is hands down my most fav x reader to have written #this prompt was so fun

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