⋆.˚༄ 🇵🇸 Zero, 18, she/her, Arab/Middle Eastern, This is just a little writing blog for myself to write x reader fics :) [usually fem or gn reader] ,This is an 18+ blog so minors DNI, English isn't my first language
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My writing tag: ⋆˚꩜｡ Zero writes!!
Requests are open (moots only atm)
Ao3 ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ
I write for: DC, Marvel, JJK, Castlevania, ATLA and DMC :D
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Vergil is starting to like you, in his own weird way that also means he wants you to have his kids
CW: Vergil is OOC but I just really wanted to write for him, wrote this with crazy baby fever, not proofread, AFAB reader, mostly based on the anime
I just finished dmc 1 and 2, can't wait to finish 3…don’t kill me please
Nero Angelo. Vergil Sparda. That man was a huge anomaly to you and to everyone else in Makai. Honestly, you didn’t think he had anything else but some degree of tolerance to you. After all, all you do together is train and occasionally chat. But today’s training session ignited a flurry of strange emotions to the half demon—affectionate ones.
Vergil and yourself trained, his sword clashed loudly with your own weapon as he navigated through his unbelievably rigid clothing, “Your form is good, (Name), but you fail to acknowledge my ability to adapt to your repetitive technique.”
“Excuse me? Your attacks are continuously parried by my counters. If anyone's technique is flawed it’s your own, Nero Angelo.” you smirk, once again slamming your own weapon to release a metallic clash with his blade.
A glint in his eye sparks and his lips part slightly as his gaze meets yours. Despite this, the fight continued—however he greatly enjoyed it now.
Something about the way you had talked back to him in a way he was not used to, the scrutiny in your voice was something he had only experienced from Mundus. You? It felt somewhat nice from you—like a sting only a masochist could be satisfied in.
The continued clashes rang in the training arena, and it rang in irregular intervals until you both parted for a break.
The socially inept man stared at you—fawned over you—quietly as you wiped the sweat off your brow. You sit on the floor, and with a fine cloth you clear the dust and assess the newly developed scuffs on your weapon. His steps carried him to you, the firm pound of his boots on the ground as he suddenly stopped in front of you.
With a simple nod he comments, “Strong, beautiful and intelligent…yes, you would be perfect to help me.”
“Help you with?” You start, before standing to your feet, and rest your hands on your hips, meeting his gaze.
“To help me make a child. In my pursuit of power I need a child to carry the Sparda name, you would be perfect to assist me in bringing a new heir to the Sparda name.”
A scoff escapes you, and your hand is planted on his chest, only to shove him out of your way, looking over your shoulder, “Keep dreaming, Vergil. Maybe wish on a star and then I’ll birth one of your dumb kids.” And he watches as your hips sway while you walk off, with a bright pink hue creeping onto his face.
Wow. You have to be the future mother of his children.
you were lounged back against the pillows in dick’s oversized t-shirt, legs stretched out, completely absorbed in your book. fingers flipped through the pages with the occasional rustle while your boyfriend was out.
dick slipped in after patrol, still in his nightwing suit. he crawled onto the bed and settled between your legs, resting his head on your chest with a soft sigh. this was practically routine now. dick was obsessed with your tits—needed them after every patrol like they were what he came home for (which… they are.)
“baby… can i…?” he asked, voice low and warm and so sweet, that easy charm threaded with pure need. when you made a small noise that indicated permission, dick tugged the shirt up gently and latched onto one nipple.
his mouth was hot, his motions eager—lips sealing tight around the stiff peak as he sucked with slow, rhythmic pulls that made your breast ache oh so sweetly and sent heated jolts straight to your cunt. his tongue swirled and flicked relentlessly around the sensitive bud that had pebbled immediately under his tongue, then flattened to nurse harder, drawing your nipple deep into his mouth with wet, obscene slurps. cheeks hollowing, he moaned softly against your flesh, the vibrations buzzing through your tit while saliva dripped down the curve of your breast.
he ground his hips against your thigh like a desperate puppy, his thick cock rock-hard and straining through the thin suit fabric. the leaking head left a growing wet spot as he humped slow and insistent, rubbing his throbbing cock along your legs in needy strokes. the friction the suit provided was delicious—but nowhere near what it would feel like to thrust into those pretty tits.
“mm… baby,” he mumbled around your tit, switching sides effortlessly, latching onto the other nipple and sucking deeper, tongue lapping messily at the slick, spit-covered skin. “missed this. fuck… you’re so soft and warm.”
you slid one hand into his dark hair, holding him close but kept your eyes on the book. he couldn’t help but wonder what was so good about words that made you so distracted. “wait a sec, dick. i’m in the middle of this chapter.”
he groaned, the sound buzzing through your breast as he sucked harder, pulling your nipple taut between his lips before soothing it with hungry laps, spit trailing down your tits as he sucked like he couldn’t get enough—which is true. his hips rocked faster, cock sliding hot and slick with pre-cum against your thigh, dragging the swollen head in filthy up down motions. “c’mon… just look at me? i’m being good here.” his tone stayed playful, that signature wit light even in the plea. “feels good, right? tell me. please.”
you turned another page, fingers stroking his hair absently. he groaned, hips twitching. “you’re doing fine, baby. give me a minute.”
“okay… fine. i can wait,” he breathed, still nursing with greedy pulls that left your nipples swollen and glistening with his saliva, grinding harder now so his aching cock dragged along your leg with slick, filthy friction. “but god, these beauties… been thinking about them all night. don’t ignore me too long.”
after a few more minutes of his devoted sucking and puppy-like humping, you sighed, slotted your bookmark in and closed the book with a snap, setting it aside. you tugged his hair gently so he met your eyes, a teasing smile on your lips.
“aww, look at my needy dick,” you murmured, guiding his mouth back down while you laid back fully so you weren’t resting your back against the headboard anymore. which meant he could grind better now. “begging so sweetly while humping my leg like a puppy. can’t get enough, huh?”
dick pulled off with a wet pop, lips shiny and swollen, biting his lower lip up at you with that bright, boyish spark. “guilty. you bring out the best in me… or the neediest.” he chuckled softly. “you gonna tease me or finally give me all your attention?”
you laughed, arching your back to press your glistening tits closer. “go on then. keep going. make it good and i’ll take care of that aching cock next. you’ve earned it.”
he groaned happily and latched on again with fresh hunger, sucking deeper and sloppier while his hips kept grinding, cock pulsing hot and heavy against your cunt now that he’s got you under him properly. you held him close with both hands in his hair, finally giving him the full attention he craved.
He really cant help but love your body, and he needs to show you just how much
CW: chubby reader and SUPER self-indulgent, sex, king shark mention wtf, not proofread
Had to get back to my roots on dilfson todd
“Babe are you listening to me?” You interrogate with a hip cocked to the side and gaze pinning Jason down.
Jason had a little “secret” that has stayed with him all these years. He loves your body. Just all of it. Especially right now. His eyes were locked on your face dreamily as you attempted to scold him, and those same eyes trail down. Over your breasts then to your midsection and hips, he stared at your shirt stretching over your plush tummy.
You look away bashfully, knowing this exact routine as you walk back to the counter, and grab a cloth to wipe it down after you instructed him to. You swipe your hand over the surface, it’s not done to look more attractive, so why is Jason walking to you with a hungry glint in his eyes?
Instead you pointed your gaze to the counter as you continued the chore. That was, until you halted upon feeling the bigger man rest a hand over yours that held the simple fabric. “It’s my chore sweetheart, let me..” his voice is hushed.
It’s like this doesn’t happen all the time as you raise your hands, floundering on what to do now that you’re trapped between your husband and the counter and while Jason wipes down the table. “So, are you gonna let me leave?” You tilt your head back to meet his appraising gaze.
“I could, but I love the company right now.” He smirks, his broad hand rubbing over the softness of your tummy as his lazy tone carries a glaring hint of flirtation. “Don’t want you mad at me, gorgeous, so I’ll do as you like. As they say, happy wife, happy life.”
“You really believe that?”
“(Name), I’m the only one who knows how true that is.”
“Weirdo…” you mutter, only to have your cheek smushed with a firm kiss, and Jason whispers “Go, take a nap, I’ll handle the kids when they wake up from theirs, ‘kay?”
You nod and pull away without much of a fight, taking a few steps to the staircase until you hear and feel the crack of a wet rag on your ass, “Ow! Jason!” You exclaim, rubbing away the sting on your ass.
The rare, childish grin on his face appeared with the most minute snicker bubbling from him, “don’t worry honey, go rest, I’ll kiss it better in a bit.”
As you huff and continue towards the stairs, your husband's eyes linger on your body. Ass, back, thighs, arms, head, everything.
His admiration doesn’t halt as he spots you in bed, rather than going to sleep you had simply taken your bra off and wore a tank top, one that hugs you enough for Jason to get a nice view of your perked nipples as you flick through a book.
It had only been a few hours of him doing chores followed by playing with your toddler and infant children, finally having tired them both out to sleep for a few long hours, meaning plenty of time to spend with you.
Finally noticing him, you smile and peer up, “Hey babe,”
“Hey yourself, doll,” he shoots back quickly, his steps heavy as his firm footsteps ring closer to you. From the way your hair was pulled back to the swell of your tits and hips and the pudge of your tummy and thighs, Jason was thoroughly entranced.
The bed sinks with his added weight as he snatches the book from your lazy hold, dog-earring the page courteously and tossing it to the nightstand on his mostly empty side. “You’re the sexiest woman in the world…my god..” he exhales, inching his face closer.
Chuckling, you instinctively wrap your arms around his neck, “You’re too easily impressed Mr Todd.”
The huge calloused hands grip your ass and knead the flesh like dough before moving to rub up and down your clothes thighs, “How could I not be impressed when the chick impressing me is Mrs Todd herself?”
A girlish blush takes over your face and you force your gaze away, only for him to pull you closer, chasing your lips into a bruising kiss. You don’t even have time to think as he pushes his tongue into your mouth, and hikes your legs over his hips. A familiar bulge nudges you through his pants; thick, heavy and intimidating may be the only way you could describe the cock that you’ve felt countless times.
You melt into the prolonged kiss, moaning as he pushes his hips to grind his cock against your crotch, and he lets a pleasured grunt exhale as he feels your hips gyrating in time with his.
You initiate the pull away from him, lips detaching from each other with a thin string of saliva connecting you both. Jason wastes no time, reaching his hands to graze over your breasts, forcing a shudder out of you.
He peers down at your body from this angle, chest heaving and face warmed with flustered arousal, and he smiles, “So, might be too early to have baby number three—but wanna practice for the making of it?” He thumbs your nipples now through your thin top, wanting to catch your gaze again just to see if he can make you even more flushed with the rush of blood to your cheeks.
So he loves your body, is that even an insane thought? Well..by the way he worships it like it’s a true temple—like he is now, holding you sopping panties to his nose and inhaling deeply while he drags his dick along your warm cunt. He pulls his nose away as he border-line babbles
“Love you, love this body, love you…shit you could look like—I dunno, king shark and I’d still wanna fuck you and be the father of all our half-shark babies.” He chuckled against your neck, squishing on your love handles, and the moan that you were mid-expelling dissolved into a giggle, but you swear you can feel a thick vein pulsing rapidly with Jason’s heartbeat against the spongy insides, with renewed rutting inside of you.
Bottom line: Jason loves you and your body…I mean REALLY loves it.
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a/n: a request that @gr0und-zer00 left in my inbox that i finally had the chance to write hehehehhee
cw: SMUT/18+ ONLY, office sex, Guy is a dog, reader is a MILF, f!reader
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PREVIEW:
One-on-one conferences with your daughter's teacher, Mr. Gardner, go in a different route than you expected.
Not that you're complaining.
Teacher!Guy Gardner/MILF!Reader (18+)
You figure that it would just be your luck that the one time that you’re able to secure early leave from work for parent-teacher conference, it wouldn’t be some dowdy, aging teacher. An authoritarian commanding respect by the book, looking down at you from pince-nez glasses on a thin-bridged nose: that you could handle.
But that’s not who you’ve rocked up to in this cramped office for this one-on-one conference.
Instead, it’s this wall of muscle topped with a thatch of bright orange hair that would dominate your arc of attention. That is, if there wasn’t the bright flash of blue eyes taking rapid inventory of you. Or that rather unprincipled smile on his face as you take seat across the desk that separates you both.
You didn’t even know that PE teachers had offices, but you suppose that’s why people go to school: you learn something new every day. And Mr. Gardner, it seems, has a lot of stuff that you could learn about him. As you sit across from him, watching the way that his eyes make continued appraisal—you seem to be learning things with each passing minute.
He’s radiating this off-kilter tension, though he bears a smile on his face. There’s something about the impressive columns of his arms that take angle on the table across from you. His other hand knuckles at the clipboard with some hastily scribbled notes, though he doesn’t take a chance to look them over.
“So—”—He breaks the ice first by saying your daughter’s name—“—Is she yer younger sister?”
Classic line that you’ve heard ad nauseum time and time again. But for some reason, there’s something in the ken of his eyes that makes you think he actually means the compliment behind it. Or at least, the wicked slant of his grin does as he looks across from you.
“Not quite,” You smother the smile that’s rising to your face in tandem with the heat beneath the curve of your cheeks. “I’m her mom.”
“Yeah?” Guy asks, rolling a pencil over the ridge of his knuckles in such an expert, practiced way—a testament to reflexes. Or testament instead to the way the tendons in his arm flex and pull in such mesmerizing way.
“And where’s her dad?” He asks, in such bold, interrogative manner. You can’t help but find yourself battling for shock and amusement at the way he goes for the jugular.
“Couldn’t make it?” Mr. Gardner continues on the offense, though this time the question is a little more casual. The way his eyes pair with the question speaks to the true intention.
You decide on a ploy for diplomacy.
“Uh, well, Mr. Gardner—”—You begin, but find yourself interrupted by the way that he levies a broad hand. Broad and wide, and with callouses lining the intersection of fingers and palm: a working man’s hand. A rough man’s hand.
“Call me Guy,” Mr. Gardner breezes easily. “No reason why we can’t get familiar.”
He looks at you and you realize that you’re being prompted to provide your name—you find yourself doing yourself with less reluctance than you’d expect. After all, Guy doesn’t exactly seem the altruistic type—more the tit for tat, quid pro quo kind of man.
You have to disrupt yourself from a troublesome line of thought. The one that idly wonders just exactly how he would provide quid pro quo treatment.
“Um,” You begin primly. It’s a valiant effort to devote your eyes away from his jawline and instead to the way that his hand is flat, fanned out on the top of the desk.
“How is my daughter doing in your class?”
“Doing real well. Smart kid, good sense’a humor.” Guy replies to you without any preamble—this seems to be the part that rings true for him. Whatever he says here, you can read the innate sincerity inlaid within it. This is why you feel the fledgling smile that presses over your face; he leans back with an audible creak in his chair.
“Thought it was somethin’ that she picked up on her own.” Guy replies, and he chuckles—it’s a crude sound, but something that oddly fits him so well. “But I guess that ain’t the case.”
“Oh?” You ask, confused just at exactly what direction he intends to take with this. You watch the cock of a thick brow tick up the acreage of his forehead.
“Guess that’s somethin’ she got from her good-lookin’ mom.”
And now you truly can’t resist the audible laugh that escapes you—suffused, muffled—but an assertion of disbelief.
“Mr. Gardner—”—You begin to contest his refuge in audacity, but he’s quick to correct you.
“Guy.” He says with such masculine affirmation that should repel you. But dammit, it really doesn’t. If anything, it necessitates the urge for you to push your thighs. Anything to distract yourself from the jolt of need between your legs.
“Guy—”—You correct, taken momentarily aback before you re-orient yourself—“—I’m not entirely sure that this is how a parent-teacher conference should go.”
“Oh?” Guy asks, and there’s something very cavalier about the way he says it. Not as if it’s a reprimand, but a challenge for him to overcome. “I coulda sworn that it was goin’ pretty good.”
He leans forward on the span of his elbow, rooting you to the spot with the roil of that stare. “Didn’t you?”
“Well—I—”—You’re stymied as you try to find something to say that properly communicates the unmooring that you feel. These circumstances just seem to elude any proper classification. Guy’s patient: he waits as you search for proper vocabulary.
“—That depends.” You finally conclude; there’s a quirk in the corner of his mouth. It’s not a no.
“Depends on what?” He asks with no room for hesitation, pressing you to the point that he wants you to confess.
“If we’re talking about conferences—or you asking me out on a date.” You reply staunchly.
“Who says we can’t do both?” He asks. “I thought I was doin’ a pretty good balancing act.”
The way he says it with such brash confidence—you almost believe him for a second. As if he swears by his own guff, this cocky, handsome jerk.
Maybe, you think, you should play the game and see where you end up on the primrose path. You inch towards the edge of your seat, watching as he takes regard of your proximity.
“If this is how you balance things,” You reply with a coyness you take care to inject, “I don’t know if I can trust you with a date—”
You keep your eyes riveted to him, looking at the way his shoulders broaden at the hurdle you’re asking him to clear—
“—Guy.” You conclude, and if you’ve reached the edge of the table, your hands resting primly on the angle—perhaps he’s in parallel on the other side.
All you can focus on is the way that pink of his tongue darts over the full of his bottom lip.
“How about we go for a test run then?” He asks, and there’s something incautious, low, corrugated in the delivery of this. As though control of the vehicle is being passed to you, to direct it back on track—or let it go careening into the night.
“How’s that work?” You ask, firmly taking the wheel. His smile increases by degrees, and you know you like the way it looks.
“You’re my last conference of the night,” Guy says, leaning back in the ample spread of his chair with another resounding creak. “How ‘bout we find out?”
You smile and stand up from your seat, watching as his eyes track the meter of your body as you do so.
If you thought the chair creaked before—it’s practically an unceasing symphony of rusted hinges as you bounce on his cock. Thank goodness for locked doors, thank goodness for tinted, glossed-over windows—
“Oh, fuck—”—You whine, letting your head loll back as Guy rolls one of your tits into his mouth, taking a slow, lascivious suck.
All you can focus on is the way his tongue feels rolling around the bead of your nipple, the way that your thighs burn as you sink onto his cock. All that you can think of is how it feels as he fills you up, your walls working to fit in the massive length.
“Oh, fuckin’ perfect—”—He groans as his hands clench around your back, urging more of you into his mouth. He laps at it like a man starved, bucking his hips into you to help you ride him easier.
The chair’s hinges protests with the effort, but you could hardly care. Not as you sink your nails into those muscular shoulders growing tacky with the exertion of the cramped room. The air seems to be growing electric with the noises, the sensation that is growing in sweet crescendo in the pit of your abdomen.
“Oh—oh—”—You gasp as the slap of his thighs against your ass grows in quicker, more desperate speed. He growls against your skin before pulling off of your tit with a lewd pop—and offers his open mouth to you.
You don’t hesitate, drawing his tongue against yours, scraping up the flat of the muscle with your own. And when he sheathes into you to the hilt—he swallows the moan you make with a desperate hunger.
“Fuck, Guy—”—You break away to regain air—“—Take a girl out first—”
Whatever else you intend to say is consumed by the way that he pumps into you with that ruthless speed.
“Sure thing, baby,” He grunts as he continues to fuck you to your orgasm, “But let’s make sure we finish this first—”
And then he’s off to the races. You can’t say that you disagree with this train of thought as his cock noses at that spot that makes you feel heaven.
Looks like Guy Gardner’s teaching you something new after all.
cw: mild smut. minors dni. female anatomy. pillowtalk-y.
vergil's fingers slip under rumpled bedsheets to trail softly along the surface of your bare back, and you moan softly, knees bending gently towards your belly. there's still a lingering languidness to your body, that of thorough pleasure turning your very flesh into something more akin to a pleasant moldable jelly than person, and thus you don't turn - not yet.
but the bid for attention is still recognized.
"you okay?" you murmur, eyes closing with comfortable slumber.
"yeah," vergil replies. he presses kisses at the base of your neck, light touches still, then his finger pauses just over your scapula. there his touch is firmer, and his whole palm covers this area, caressing gently.
"there should be wings here," he whispers, almost too venerably.
"wings?" your eyebrows furrow as he kisses there too, then wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you flush to his chest.
"like an angel."
you chuckle softly.
"is this an attempt to flirt?"
with his knee, he gently parts your legs, pressing the surface of his thigh flush to your bare crotch.
"is that so ridiculous?"
his thigh starts to grind softly at the already wet space, satisfied from earlier but still receptive, still wanting.
"no," you sigh out, the grind of muscled thigh against your clit too precise, too trained, as if he's figured out your body and how to make it sing rather than tease. your head lolls back into him with the friction, and a free hand slips around your throat, applying gentle loving pressure.
"as i was saying-" he starts, before posing a kiss on your forehead,
⋆˚꩜｡ Matthew "Matt" Murdock/Daredevil x reader (18+)
Drabble Matt Murdock can't see, but he definitely loves different textures
CW: sex and possible OOC, AFAB reader, not proofread, short
I'll start doing more drabbles soon
I should do more characters liking bush...
His hips pump up brutally into your soaked cunt, and as you moan, you pause it abruptly to look down as you sit reverse cowgirl on him, back to his chest and his hand sliding through your hair coating over your most intimate spot.
“Are you looking for something?” you partly joke, somewhat amazed by his ability to continue multitasking, quick hip movements yet slowly tracing his hands.
Matt drags his fingers over the fuzzed surface, he feels the lines of your labia and the bud up of your clit.
Usually they say ‘men are visual creatures’ but a man who doesn’t have sight, has touch and sound; in this case, your pussy and the desperate whimpering that rang from your throat. A man like Matt who can fight hoards of creatures if he wished, relished most in feeling his lover—clearly the different textures of them too.
Before he even indulged in your joke, he used his middle and ring finger, swirling it over your clit. He knew he had done something right when he heard a combination of your heart racing and your pussy squelching on his dick, clutching so hard he wasn’t sure you would ever let go!
“This is a sensory heaven. You know I love this feeling” The blind man groans before tilting his head back, his eyes void of focus on a specific area of the ceiling or on you. But his other hand pulls you down to lay back atop him.
He’s Luxuriating in the extra weight, and buries his face against your neck, panting as his vigorous movements continue with mild faltering. Meanwhile, your moans never ceased, the pitch hitching with every drag of his hips up and down, and he gave only an acknowledging kiss to the back of your neck as it tilted back.
His free hand, the one not resting in the coarse forest of messy curls, slid up your body, squeezing your breast, grinning into your shoulder with the continued plap-plap-plap ringing around the room, “So good..” he mutters.
Touchy-feely doesn't even begin to cover how Matt is...
currently watching : succession season 4 finale (again lol)
current obsession : sakura haruno (all day every day)
currently reading : a dialogue — nikki giovanni and james baldwin (1973)
currently working on : with love, birdy (tim drake) + the summer i met the graysons (mark grayson x reader x dick grayson) + unnamed barbara gordon phone sex fic
last internet search : catfishing : the wikipedia guessing game (i take this very seriously btw)
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Anya is LIVE right now
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jason todd x fem!reader, smut? idk man, not edited
“Jason, please," you whine into your phone. It's connected to his comms. You can hear his heavy grunts and the bodies of goons slamming to the ground.
All that only made you wetter and more desperate.
Now you have needs. Needs that Jason can’t always take care of from miles away. That’s fine. You have your trusted pink vibrator. Expect this time it decided to give out in the middle of it all. You'd been thinking of Jason while you played around, thinking about how he'd whisper filthy things into your ear, all while somehow still being so sweet and careful. him trying not to crush you when all you needed was for him to do just that. it was all you could think about while you were on the phone with him, your body buzzing with need. You want your man to crush you.
"i need you," you beg, all sense of shame gone. Your fingers play around with your clit, but god, none of it—not even your beloved vibrator—had or will ever compare to your boyfriend.
He's panting on the other side. though, for completly diffrent reasons. "fuck, sweetheart, you know i cant—
"Then talk me through it," you argue.
"I'm fighting criminals, theres nothin' sexy about it." he grumbles. "Just a bit longer?" then, he lowers his voice. "please, baby?"
Nothing sexy his ass. As if any of that mattered when he has you talking to him so wonderfully.
"Fuck you, todd," you mutter, not really meaning it.
"Later," he says as he—you think—swings at someone becasue you hear a crack.
His fingers curl inside you all the while he starts vibrating them. Your hips jerk, and a tiny whine leaves you. "wally," you breathe out.
"Hmm? Can your toy do that, baby?" he say's all smug. You'd called him complaining about how your vibrator had died. Naturally he sped over to yoour place instantly.
"wals, faster," you beg, even with his super speed you wanted more—needed it, needed him.
"greedy girl," he mutters and kisses both your cheeks. Then, the bastard leans back, fingers leaving you, your pussy clenching around nothing.
Your head falls back. "First my vibrator beytrays me, and now my boyfriend," you groan patheticly.
Wally tilts his head, his hands lingering at the waistline of his boxers. "I mean I was gonna give you something better but…
You perk up. "I love you." you pause. "alot." you look up at him with wide, pleading eyes.
"Love you too, babe," he mutters, leaning closer. He kisses you slowly before giving you what you've been waiting for.
masterlist
if your wondering why this is so badly written and short it’s cause i wrote this at a restaurant 💀and just posted it
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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The other members went inside to prep for the picnic, you guys took advantage of this
CW: Outdoors sex, Piotr is nice during sex, unconcerned Piotr, AFAB reader, not proofread, POSSIBLY OOC (we'll know if Dreamer kills me)
requested by AND pics provided by @i-gotta-go-so-much-bigger, I'm sorry if this isn't as good as you had hoped, I ended up writing this more for fun :((
This was risky, yes, especially for a couple like you and Piotr. It was assumed you were both quite plain in the bedroom. But no one knew what was happening just in the garden.
Being bent over with your only support as a tree was mildly difficult, especially if the goal is to be secretive, thankfully your saint of a boyfriend was right behind you, supporting you as his pelvis plapped in quick succession against your ass and thick arms circled around your waist.
It was supposed to be a fun joint picnic with the other X-men members, they agreed to take up some quick last minute chores, like collecting some plates and drinks and last minute food prep. You and Piotr got the simple task of setting the picnic picnic table and ensuring it’s secure. That’s a quick job, so you decided on a quickie to expel any extra energy.
“Piotr, quick sweetie. They’re probably about to come back any second…” you whisper with a moan.
“Only when you’re finished, will I be satisfied.” He replies, leaning down to kiss the side of your face and trails his hand down your tummy, to wedge a middle finger at your clit, rubbing at a pace he knows makes you melt.
The hitch in your voice from the added pleasure to this quickie was unbelievably apparent “look at you, such a romantic.” You try to tease him, but are eventually forced to cover your mouth as you cut off a strangled moan with his thick length dragging brutally inside you.
It’s like he’s oblivious to the effect his big cock had on you as he knocks the air out of you, peering down and moving his head to meet your gaze, smiling dopily, “is this pace satisfactory?” Like he was serving dinner rather than fucking you, and he smiled sweetly as you nodded.
When that knot in your lower stomach bursts, your legs turn to jelly, and eyes roll back, and honestly, any further back, you will find your brain turned to jelly at the mind boggling orgasm that your boyfriend can somehow rip out of you. After his own orgasm settles, Colossus pulls out, pulling your underwear and trousers up to cover you once again, before covering himself, and finally sealing it all with a kiss on your cheek, “Thank you…”
At least now you guys had a little secret during the picnic that the others can't exactly point out, right?
