Summary: A grieving man walks into a town that feeds on guilt, expecting to find his dead wife, only to meet instead the one temptation he always had, shaped from every forbidden glance and buried want he never allowed himself to name. In the suffocating fog of Silent Hill, your warm and close presence becomes his quiet undoing. The closer you get, the harder it becomes to remember who he came here for… and who he might really want.
Tags: No use of Y/N. Male reader. Reader is Mary’s brother. Corruption. Age difference. Heavy sexual tension. Sexual frustration. Crying during sex (James). Top James Sunderland. Feral James Sunderland. Bottom male reader. Anal sex.
ℳ𝒶𝓈𝓉ℯ𝓇𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉
Words count: 5500
West side of South Vale felt like something left to rot as James moved through the foggy streets, each breath dragging slowly and damp.
The metal scrape of Pyramid Head’s great blade still echoed somewhere behind his eyes, a phantom weight pressing against his ribs and even now his fingers flexed on the wooden plank in his hands.
The radio in his jacket hissed again, static crawling out of it in uneven bursts, spiking and dipping. Every time it flared James’s shoulders tightened a fraction, gaze dragging across sagging fences and the hollow faces of buildings that all looked the same shade of tired gray, scanning the area for monsters nearby while he kept walking to hopefully avoid another fight with a bile-spitting armless monster.
Even worse, those sorta of mannequins made of only legs and a waist hiding behind corners to jump at him.
That little girl’s shrill voice still clung to the back of his mind worse than the fog did.
“You always preferred him over Mary!”
The words didn’t fade, persistently repeated inside of his head, constantly different in meaning and implication.
James swallowed, jaw tightening.
How did she know Mary’s name… and who was she referring to?
His grip adjusted on the plank in his hands as he turned down toward the gallery, steps picking up into a jog because standing still felt worse, thinking too long in this place always led to being exposed for attacks with even the insects of this place showing a craving in attacking him.
The narrow passage funneled him forward until it opened into Rosewater Park.
Iron gate hanging crooked and beyond it there were benches half-swallowed by mist, pathways dissolving into white, lake somewhere beyond only hinted at by all this fog everywhere.
James slowed, steps softening as the radio crackled louder, static clawing up and his head turned slightly, instinct dragging his gaze forward as something took shape through the fog.
His grip tightened, wooden plank shifting in his hands, wood creaking under the pressure of his fingers, rusted nails catching what little light there was as he adjusted his footing, careful and quiet.
All until the ground betrayed him with a soft crunch of a leaf beneath his shoe and the figure moved too fast
James’s arms tensed anyway, instinct pushing him forward despite the distance.
“James?” The name hit him in familiarity and the weapon in his hands stopped mid-motion, knuckles going white around it, breath catching somewhere halfway in his chest as the sound of his own name seemed to cut through everything else.
When did the radio stopped bombarding his ears with high and cracking statistics noises?
He knew that voice.
Slowly he lowered the weapon enough that it wasn’t poised to strike and his feet carried him forward again, drawn in a way that didn’t feel entirely like his own decision.
“…What…?”The figure clarified and his mouth parted, word barely forming, more breath than sound, disbelief sitting heavy behind it as his eyes traced over you.
“What are you doing here…?”
It came out quieter than he meant it to, roughened by everything he hadn’t said since arriving.
Moving quickly towards him to close the distance and instinct kicked in a fraction too late, plank shifted out of the way, grip loosening as he moved it aside and his other arm came up, eyes closing the moment you made contact.
The impact was solid and warm but, most definitely important, real.
He wasn’t going crazy and you were actually here, fitting against him like something he hadn’t realized he’d been missing until it was suddenly there and his arms tightened around you a second later than they should have.
That’s the first thing that’s wrong
You’ve always known each other, yes, orbiting the same spaces through Mary, overlapping in conversations and shared moments, but you’ve never been the type to just run straight towards him without a second thought for a greeting hug.
It had been a long time since anything in his life felt… good.
That alone was enough to quiet the questions he should have been asking and something in his chest loosened in a way that almost hurt, tension unwinding where it had been coiled tight for too long.
You pulled back, not far, to look up at him.
Hazel eyes opened slowly, lips parting again with more questions than words to ask them with.
“…You too looking for Mary…?” Your voice was softer now but still grounded in a way nothing else in this place was, questions settling between you easily, almost naturally.
Recognition and confirmation flickering across his face.
“…Yeah.” Word coming with a small nod, hazel eyes steady on yours, “I got a letter from her.”
“Good,” you murmured, a small breath of relief threading through the word before it shifted into something lighter and almost playful. “I was starting to think I’d be stuck here with… whatever those things are.”
Nose wrinkling faintly at remembering those monsters missing limbs and throwing up awful substances.
A soft sound left him.
“…Yeah,” he muttered, corner of his mouth twitching just slightly as he exhaled. “This place doesn’t have the best hospitality.”
Your fingers closed around his arm in a light but insistent grip, tugging him forward to urge him to follow before letting go.
“Come on,” you said, already turning, already pulling him along. “I think I know the way.”
“Hey—” His voice followed, a step behind, boots scraping as he was forced into motion. “There are monsters here.”
“You’ll help me out, though, right?”Glancing back at him over your shoulder, grinning quick and almost teasing.
It hit him in a place he didn’t expect, mostly the ease of tone and that assumption wrapped warmly along an additional small amount of impulsiveness you always had, different from Mary’s steady and thoughtful persona.
Something in him always liked that.
“…I mean—yeah,” he said, a little more quickly than he intended, breath catching as he adjusted his pace to match yours. “Fuck— just slow down a little.”
Not stopping until you reached a small boat station, finally pausing and turning to watch him catch up.
He bent slightly once close to you again, hands bracing against his knees as he pulled in a heavier breath, shoulders rising and falling with the effort.
Stepping closer again, your hand landed on his shoulder.
“Wow,” you said, amusement threading through your voice. “Already tired? Need me to find you a cane, old man?”
A low sound left him, somewhere between a huff and a grumble as he straightened, shooting you a look that didn’t quite hide the faint flush of exertion.
“…You’re not that far from me,” he muttered, earning an easy laugh from you and for a moment, it almost felt normal.
A motel loomed ahead, gate locked tight by a metal chain looped through with the key inside a small safe neither of you had any clue where the combination was.
Most of the doors refused to open minus a downstairs room that offered nothing but stale air and an unease that clung to James’s skin the moment he stepped inside.
Upstairs was different, the door might had been locked but there was a window that shattered under the force of the wooden plank in James’s grip, glass cracking outward with a brittle snap that echoed loudly and James slipped through it carefully, boots crunching against the shards before he immediately reached the door to pull it open from the inside.
“There’s too much glass there. Come through here,” he said, stepping back to give you space.
You paused just long enough to catch the intent, a small nod along a quiet thanks slipping from you while stepping through the doorway.
The room inside was surprisingly intact with a queen-sized bed sitting against the wall, sheets not pristine but not orphaning much dust either, suggesting neglect rather than decay.
Crossing the space and dropping onto it, the mattress gave under your weight with a soft creak as a long breath left your lungs, arms and legs extending.
The movement drew his eyes right where the line of your body lengthened, fabric shifting enough to hint at the shape beneath, gaze lingering a second too long, tracing down, then back up, catching himself and pulling away before it could settle somewhere it shouldn’t.
You shifted again, propping yourself up on your elbows, lifting your upper half enough to look at him properly and the angle changed everything, brought you closer to his eye line, closer to—
“Hey,” you said softly, tone light “You wanna rest a bit?”
Simple words with a subtle pull, something that brushed against him in a way that felt… familiar, and not in the way it should have.
His throat tightened slightly, eyes flicked involuntarily back to your extended legs before looking away.
Silence hung for a moment too long before he shook his head faintly, voice quieter when it came.
“…No, we should keep going.”
Mary’s name sat unspoken between his words, anchoring and pulling him back into something steadier.
“She’s waiting,” he added, more to himself than to you.
A small breath left your mouth, a soft exhale that dipped at the end in almost disappointment.
“So what do we do about the missing code?” Voice that had smoothed itself out by then, casual and practical.
James blinked once, hazel eyes shifting away with a faint stiffness.
“…There might be something we missed.”
His gaze moved across the room, scanning what felt off before landing on a section of wall that looked significantly weaker than the rest and naked from the usual colored paper meant to be on it, structure compromised.
He stepped toward it, grip tightening again around the wooden plank as he raised and pulled it down with forceful swings.
The impact landed with a splintering crack, plaster giving way under the blow, dust shaking loose in a soft cascade as the weakened section buckled inward.
Another hit followed by a grunt forced through clenched teeth as the structure finally broke open, revealing the dark hollow of the adjacent room beyond.
You gave a low whistle from where you still lay sprawled across the bed, the note light, impressed.
“Not bad.” There was something easy in your tone that made it sound less like survival and more approval.
“Good job.”
James didn’t turn immediately.“…Thanks,” he muttered after a second, word quiet and almost automatic, coming with the faintest shift in his posture.
He stepped through the broken opening, boots crunching lightly against debris as he disappeared into the next room and for a moment there was only the muffled sound of movement before he returned with a folded note in his hand.
“This should be it,” he said, holding it up just slightly as he stepped back through the opening, eyes flicking briefly toward you. “We can—”
He stopped at seeing your sitting position, legs drawn in and arms wrapped loosely around them in a posture that. folded inward, gaze lowering toward your lap.
It didn’t fit with the way you’d been moments ago.
“…Hey.” The word came softer than anything he’d said so far, steps slowing as he approached.
He hesitated for a moment with his hand mid air before reaching out and settling it on your shoulder, careful and light.
“What’s wrong?”
You looked up at him and the expression hurt him.
“…Do you know what you’re gonna say to her?” Your voice was quieter now, stripped of that earlier playfulness as you held his gaze. “When we find Mary.”
It hit him worse, like something sinking because he hadn’t thought about that yet.
His eyes shifted slightly, weight of your question settling in, dragging something heavy and uncomfortable up from a place he’d been carefully avoiding.
“We should find her first,” he said after a moment, the answer coming slower than usual, less certain. “Then… we’ll figure it out.”
Nodding quickly, accepting it because you didn’t want to push further, before standing, moment closing just as quietly as it had opened.
“Okay.” Following him out without another word.
The rest of the journey through the monster-polluted streets was spent for James immersed in memories.
Your earlier words lingered in his mind, jaw tightening faintly as memories shifted to hospital walls and fluorescent lights.
That faint and sterile smell that clung to everything.
The bouquet in his hands was too large and full, petals brushing against each other and obscuring his vision, making his walk slightly awkward while the overwhelming sweet scent tickled his nose.
He stopped at Mary’s door once he saw you sitting on the floor just outside it, knees drawn up, elbows resting on them and head angled down.
“…Hey.” The word had been hesitant and careful even then.
Looking up, glassy and unfocused eyes lit up in recognition, hand coming up quickly to rub at them and erase whatever had been there before he saw it.
“Hey,” you muttered back, voice a little rough, pushing yourself up from the floor as your gaze flicked briefly to the flowers in his hands.
“She’s… had one of her moments. Sleeping now after the meds.” Painful how normal for you and him it had gotten.
James glanced down, then toward the door, mind echoing those words carrying frustration and anger that had nowhere to go but outward.
“Are you okay?”
Your hand moved to your arm, rubbing it absently. “Yeah,” you said, a small shrug following. “She just said some stuff. Same as usual.”
He watched you for a second and something in his expression softened slightly.
“…Do you want to get something from the cafeteria?” he asked, offering quiet and almost tentative. “We don’t have to stay out here.”
You had nodded and that had been enough.
Time had blurred after that, hours spent sitting across from each other, plastic trays pushed aside, cups left half-full as conversation of anything but all the atrocious pain dealt by you and him flooded the atmosphere.
You actually laughed at a couple of things James would said that were not even funny, you just found funny the way he’d express them all surly along faint awkwardness in how he tried (and failed) to deliver anything resembling humor.
Every time you did, something in his chest eased.
It truly had made that pain and guilt from feeling relief at getting away… fade temporarily in the small bubble that had formed between you and him.
It felt… dangerously easy.
Not the same as what he had with Mary but brighter.
“You should go get some rest,” he had told you eventually, voice softer and more certain in that moment than most others. “You’ve been here all night. I’ll stay.”
You had hesitated a little before nodding.
The way your eyes had lit up when he gifted you the bouquet of flowers had stayed with him ever since.
For a moment his chest hadn’t hurt from guilt.
A stronger bond formed from that moment on.
Even now you were closer than he remembered you being.
At his side, almost brushing against him, hazel eyes catching the line of your profile.
Had you always been this close?
Maybe it had always been right from the very beginning, the moment Mary had introduced you.
As time went on and the hospital visits grew longer and more frequent just like the distance between him and Mary, that pull had only grown stronger.
Blankets shared without comment when exhaustion took over in uncomfortable chairs, fabric draped over shoulders in absent-minded care.
Food brought in small acts of thoughtfulness, something better than vending machine snacks, shared between the two of you when time stretched too long.
Hands brushing, then staying.
Handshakes that lingered, morphing into hugs that lasted just a little longer than necessary to ease tension from muscles that had forgotten how to relax.
It felt too good
Right now he was climbing on top of a shelf through the higher window, movement practiced by now, boots landing inside the bar with a soft thud as he moved quickly to the door, unlocking it and pulling it open for you.
“Come through here,” he said, stepping aside. “Safer.”
The lights flickered before buzzing to life and neon pink bled into the space, casting everything in a glow that felt wrong in a completely different way than the fog outside.
A strip club of all things.
James’s expression shifted faintly, confusion threading through the exhaustion as he took it in but not enough time to process it.
Your hand found his again, fingers curling lightly around his arm and guiding him toward one of the sectional sofas, touch warm even in the artificial light.
He let himself be guided down, leather dipping under his weight as he sat, posture stiff at first, shoulders tight from everything that had come before.
Sitting beside him closer than necessary, thigh nearly brushing his shoulder just within the space of contact if either of you leaned.
Leather beneath you creaking softly as you nudged closer, sound swallowed almost immediately by the low electric hum of neon lights buzzing overhead.
Your hand settled on his shoulder and something inside him paused mid-thought, caught between continuing and unraveling. His head turned slowly and almost reluctantly, gaze dropping first to your hand where it rested one him, beautiful hazel eyes lingering there before lifting to your up close face just within reach, expression softened by concern.
His gaze flickered, something fragile passing behind it before he broke eye contact, looking down instead toward the table beneath his forearms, scarred wood sticky in places, faint rings from glasses long evaporated.
“I was just thinking,” he muttered, voice low, roughened by disuse and something heavier beneath it, fingers flexing faintly against the edge of the table. “About… before it started.”
He didn’t need to say her name.
The neon light flickered faintly, casting shadows that shifted over his face as you hummed softly beside him, thumb brushing absent-minded circles into his shoulder.
“I remember,” you murmured in a warm voice. “You used to smile a little more.”
His lips twitched barely, ghost of a defunct smile before it faded.
“…That was ‘cause of you and Mary constantly bickering,” he said, humming faintly in return, the sound low in his chest.
A soft chuckle left you, breath brushing his jaw as you shifted slightly closer.
“Hey, they were always justified,” you murmured. “Like that time at Lakeview Hotel.” Voice heavy with nostalgia.
“You two invited me and I forgot half my clothes.” Another quiet laugh. “You let me borrow some of yours and she didn’t let me live that down the whole weekend.”
James exhaled softly through his nose, corner of his mouth lifting slightly again before a moment of silence settled.
“…She was the one who suggested bringing you,” he said, voice quieter now, something more careful threading through it. “Said you shouldn’t be alone.”
A pause.
“I didn’t mind.”
What he didn’t say sat heavier.
The way you’d looked in his clothes, shirt hanging loose over your frame, fabric dipping at the collar to expose skin along with sleeves rolled messily, swallowing your arms, hem brushing your thighs when you have moved to first try them on… even the scent of him had clung to you, mixed with something unmistakably yours.
He had noticed too much of everything and every glance had lingered seconds too long before he’d always forced it away.
Swallowing now, Adam apple bobbing while his throat tightened faintly at the memory.
Beside him, your weight shifted, one leg sliding over his lap before the other followed, settling yourself fully on him, leather creaking again under the combined pressure, body fitting against his and erasing what little space had been left between you.
He didn’t even try to push you away, hands staying where they were.
“…You mind me like this, James?” you asked softly, breath brushing his lips and voice dropping around his name.
“…I—” It came out uncertain, not quite a warning or even resistance.
Behind his eyes, something shifted behind.
A realization he didn’t want to have or name.
“…Who are you?” He asked, voice lower now, rougher, gaze dragging back up to yours.
All of this felt too right, hence how he detected the problem.
“I’m me.” Smiling softly up at him, soft and unshaken.
A breath left him, close to a scoff, but weaker, fraying at the edges as his restraint started to slip.
“You’re not him—” His voice faltered as your hand lifted, fingers brushing along his jaw, thumb dragging lightly over the scruff of his stubble, texture rough beneath your skin like touching sandpaper.
His breath hitched, betraying everything he was trying to fight as your fingers curled to cradle his face.
“See? I’m real,” you murmured, thumb brushing his lower lip now, eyes almost entirely fixed where your thumb was. “The same one you always looked at when you thought I didn't notice.”
Your voice dipped lower.
“…The one who always wanted you too.”
His breath stuttered, gaze dropped to your lips, then forcefully back to your eyes before dipping down again.
Trapped in a loop, restraint cracking in quiet, invisible fractures while you remained seated on his lap.
His hands moved slowly, sliding from the table to your waist, fingers curling into the fabric at your sides to pull you slightly closer.
Your weight shifted with it, settling fully against him, ass pressing down into his lap and his breath hitched sharply at the heat pooling low, his cock hardening fast beneath the rough denim of his jeans, pressing insistently against you where you sat.
The hardness pushed up against you, growing firmer with every second you stayed like this and his grip tightened.
“You can stop me,” you whispered, voice softer now, almost coaxing.
He couldn’t
Guilt fought with unfiltered desire and only one was winning that battle by the way his arms wrapped around you more fully now to pull you closer, forehead almost brushing yours.
“I hate seeing you so sad,” you murmured, lips just barely grazing the corner of his mouth as you spoke, warm breath puffing near skin that you went to kiss quickly.
Your hips shifted and more pressure dragged against him, cock twitching hard beneath you while a low and strained sound got caught in his throat.
“Let me help you,” you breathed closer. “Make me yours… please.”
That did it, the last thread snapped as his lips moved first hesitantly but drawn like he’d been starving for this way too long.
They met yours softly but heavy at the same time with everything he’d been holding back, hand sliding up your back, pulling you flush against him as the kiss deepened, restraint unraveling piece by piece in the warmth of your mouth.
It couldn’t stay soft with the way it started too loaded and long denied by years spent forcing down everything into silence.
What began as hesitant and almost testing, quickly unraveled into something heavier, lips pressing harder against yours.
A low sound rumbled from his chest barely controlled, large and firm hands tightening at your waist, fingers digging into your sides as he pulled you closer.
Your head tilted slightly to the side, instinct guiding you as your lips parted for the angle to change and the contact to grow wetter, arms sliding up, wrapping around his shoulders before your hands moved higher, cradling his face, fingers threading into his soft dirty blonde hair.
Nails scraping lightly against his scalp and a broken sound slipped into your mouth, breath hitching as his grip tightened again, hips shifting instinctively beneath you.
That thick bulge you had below radiated with heat as your ass pressed down harder against him, grinding slightly without thinking.
Your lips parted wider in an invitation he took, tongue pushing into your mouth, gradually going deeper and dragging against yours in a way that turned the kiss messy and breathy.
Fingers tightened in his hair and he groaned as your hands moved down urgently to fumble with the belt around jeans, fingers clumsy but determined as you worked it open, metal clinking softly before you shoved your pants and boxers down enough to expose skin and bare yourself to him in an offer..
Taking hold of one of his hands to guide it down and placing it right on your ass, a sharp inhale left him, followed by a low, wrecked sound that tore from his throat as his fingers spread against warm and fluffy flesh, gripping before squeezing.
Restraint shattered completely and he stood abruptly, movement sudden and rough that still left enough room to let you stay on his lap long enough so he could you down onto the table, surface cold against your back while his warm body leaned over immediately.
Hands planted on either side to cage you in and resume the kiss that grew worse, much hungrier.
Lips dragging against yours, tongue slipping back in deeper and more desperate as his breathing grew heavier, uneven.
He pulled back barely, hand fumbling into his pocket to pull out one of the many small bottles he’d scavenged everywhere, hands already moving to unscrew it, pouring a small amount into his palm.
“…This is all I’ve got,” he breathed, voice rough and strained.
You really couldn’t care, lifting your hips slightly, breath coming faster now in a voice soft but urgent.
“I just want you.”
He leaned back down immediately at hearing those words, capturing your lips again while his slick fingers moved lower to press against your exposed hole, heat pooling low in your stomach as they pressed in further.
“Shh…” he murmured against your mouth, almost soothing as one finger pushed in and a gasp broke into the kiss, swallowed by him as your body reacted, tightening around the intrusion and heat flared.
Curling and testing as another soft, broken sound left you, fingers tightening around his shoulders as he added a second one to stretch you further, scissoring them slowly.
His breathing grew heavier as he watched and, most importantly, felt you.
He couldn’t stop imagining how you’ll feel wrapped around him.
His other thumb brushed lightly against your skin as his fingers moved deeper, curling against that bundle of nerves that made your back arch off the table.
A quiet moan slipped from your mouth, muffled against his lips as he kissed you again and swallowed every sound and reaction, jealous of anything that could hear it beside his ears.
By the time his fingers slowed once your body had softened and opened around them enough, the way you kept wording your want for him with breathless whispers was enough to almost send him over the edge.
Each repetition chipping away at whatever fragile restraint he had tried to hold onto and he pulled his hand back slowly, breath uneven, watching the way you chased the loss of contact for a second before settling again.
His chest rose sharply, desperation coiling inside him as your insistent and wrecked voice kept reaching him, hands moving fast and clumsily as he fumbled with his jeans, shoving them down just to free himself and letting his cock sprang free, thick from base to tip, already leaking and showing veins standing out along the length. It twitched the moment it was exposed, breath hitching sharply as the cooler air hit him.
Your hands knocked down the small bottle he had set there to slick himself, quickly turning it back up and applying the remaining on your fingers before slicking his length slowly.
“—ah—” The sound tore from him before he could stop it, head falling back slightly, throat exposed as your lips followed to press against his neck, stubbled jaw and side of his face all while your hand worked him steadily.
Thumb dragging over the tip and he groaned, hips jerking forward instinctively into your touch.
“I want you,” you whispered again, sound muffled against his cheek.
He leaned into you almost desperately at hearing those words, hands gripping your sides as he pushed you fully down onto the table, back hitting the surface with a soft thud, slotting between your legs.
The head of his heavy cock pressed against your now slick entrance, pausing for a second, face hovering above yours, expression torn between eyes darkened by hunger but laced with guilt.
It flickered across him before breaking as your legs wrapped around his waist to pull him closer, hands sliding up to his neck.
“James—” Your voice broke around his name as he pushed in.
The first stretch made your breath catch sharply, body tensing as he forced himself forward, inch by inch, thickness of him further stretching you by how big he wad to take all at once.
Burn sharp at first before melting into a fuller and thrilling pleasure.
“—ngh—” A broken sound left him as he sank further, hands tightening on your hips, fingers digging while your back arched and the grip on him tightened.
Once he was fully seated inside, balls pressed flush to your ass, the overwhelming feeling got impossible to ignore, body wrapped tight around him as every small movement sent sparks through your nerves while adjusting to his size.
His face dropped into the crook of your neck, breathing heavily as a tear slipped free from his eye, trailing down your skin before falling onto the table beneath.
“…I always wanted this,” he murmured, voice breaking while oozing with something painful.
Your arms tightened around him as he moved, pulling back enough before pushing in again, motion dragging against your walls in a way that made your breath hitch.
Then again and again, hips snapping forward with growing urgency, fueled by years of sexual frustration punctuated by each thrust going deeper and harder.
His grunts were low, muffled against your neck, each one slipping out with the force of his movements as his control unraveled completely, hands gripping tighter, holding you in place as he fucked into you, pace uneven at first before reaching relentless levels.
Your body responded in kind, legs tightening around him and hands gripping his shoulders.
Soft, broken sounds spilling from your mouth with every thrust as the sensation builds higher and higher.
He buried himself deeper each time, tears kept slipping from his eyes, lost against your skin as his pace grew frantic, breathing turning broken.
Your body tightened around him suddenly and that pushed him over.
A strained groan tore from him as his hips stuttered before driving deep and holding there as he came hard inside you, body shaking as thick spurts of hot seed painted your inside, pulsing as he stayed buried, grip tightening almost painfully as he rode it out.
Your own release followed close behind, tightening around him as it spilled over with the unintentional effect of milking him further, heat spreading through you as you came on both of your abdomens.
For a while, neither of you moved, neon light above stuttering with pink dimming, flaring again and casting your bodies in an uneven pulse while he stayed buried inside you, breathing hard as each inhale was dragged uneven.
A tremor passed through him, breath hitching once more but not from pleasure this time.
“…I—” The word didn’t finish.
Slowly he pulled back almost hesitantly, hazel eyes searching your face with conflict unraveled piece by piece as the haze of desire faded.
“I shouldn’t have,” he started, sentence breaking apart halfway through, breath catching as he shook his head faintly. “…I’m sorry.”
The words were quiet, barely above a whisper.
Your hand found his wrist before he could pull too far away.
“Don’t,” you said quietly and his eyes lifted to yours again and, whatever he expected to see between accusation or regret, wasn’t there.
“I’m here for you.” you continued, softer now before smiling again and this time, it looked a little like her, another part like yourself. “We deal with everything together, no?”
That made his breath hitch, words settling deeper than they should have, threading through everything already unraveling inside him.
His gaze dropped, shoulders tensing as something old and heavy dragged up from his chest.
His grip on your hand tightened before he spoke, voice quieter but steadier than before.
“…Don’t disappear on me.” Something fragile, offered without defense.
𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 : The night takes an unexpected but intensely intimate turn when Matt’s relentless attention shifts from your pleasure to worshipping every inch of you—including your feet. What starts as teasing curiosity quickly melts into overwhelming pleasure as he confesses just how badly he wants to savor every part of you. | porn without plot
You lay stretched out on the king sized bed, sheets tangled around your ankles, your hands fisting the pillows above your head as Matt Murdock knelt between your spread thighs. His strong hands gripped your legs firmly, pinning them down against the mattress, keeping you open and exposed for him. His mouth was hot and relentless on your cock, lips stretched wide around your throbbing length as he bobbed his head. “Fuck, Matt... yeah, just like that,” you groaned, your voice husky with need.
Your hips bucked involuntarily, but his grip on your thighs held you pinned—strong, unyielding. You were gasping, your fingers twisted in the pillows, your whole body arched and trembling on the edge of something beautiful. Everything felt perfect, building toward that tight coil of release in your gut, until suddenly Matt pulled off with a slick pop. Your cock twitched in the cool air, glistening and aching for more.
The sudden absence of his mouth left you gasping, your cock wet and aching, hard against your stomach. Before you could even whimper a protest, you felt his fingers wrap around your ankle. Then his lips pressed against the top of your foot—soft, warm, a kiss that sent a jolt up your leg and straight to your spine.
He pressed a slow, open-mouthed kiss to the ball of your foot, his tongue flicking out to taste your skin. You squirmed. It wasn't bad—hell, it felt incredible. “Matt!” you laughed breathlessly, trying to tug your leg free, but he pinned it down effortlessly with one hand while lavishing attention on your foot. His lips trailed kisses along the instep, nipping playfully at the sensitive skin.
“I didn't know you were into feet,” you breathed, watching him. Matt lifted his head just enough to look in your direction, those sightless eyes dark and focused. “Yeah,” he said, his voice low, rough. He pressed another kiss to your arch, his lips dragging slow. “Does it feel good?” You nodded, your breath hitching. “Yeah. It does.”
“Good.” He smiled—that crooked, devastating smile—and lowered his mouth again. He held you firm, his thumb pressing into your heel to steady you. His lips parted over your big toe, and he took it into his mouth, sucking gently. The wet heat of his tongue curling around you sent a shudder through your entire body.
“God, you're full of surprises, Murdock,” you teased, reaching down to thread your fingers through his tousled hair. “Keep going... feels amazing.” He chuckled against your skin, the vibration making you twitch. “Wanted to taste every inch of you tonight,” he confessed, nipping at your arch before moving to your other foot. He pinned both legs now, spreading them wider as he worshipped, alternating between kisses, licks, and gentle bites. His cock hung heavy between his own legs, hard and dripping, brushing against the bed as he worked.
You moaned louder, stroking yourself lazily while watching him. “It feels good. Really good. But it also tickles and I—“ You laughed breathlessly as he dragged his nose along the arch. “I can't tell if I wanna pull away or give in.”
“Don't pull away.” His voice dropped. “Let me have this. Let me worship you.” He lifted your foot higher, bending your knee, and pressed a kiss to the inside of your ankle before trailing his mouth down the length of your sole again. He took his time, kissing every toe. The sounds were obscene—wet, slick, hungry.
“Can't get enough of you,” he growled, finally releasing your foot with a trail of saliva connecting his lips to your skin. He crawled up your body, capturing your mouth in a deep kiss, letting you taste the faint saltiness of your own foot on his tongue. His cock nudged against yours, grinding slow and deliberate. “Now where were we?” he whispered against your lips, nipping your bottom one before sliding back down, ready to devour you again.
synopsis: Meeting your boyfriend’s ex was never easy, especially when she’s a literal goddess. But turns out she’s way more charming than you anticipated and your new friendship with her starts to drive Dick a little nuts.
You had expected to feel a little awkward meeting his ex. After all, how often does someone casually meet the woman who used to date the guy you’re currently in love with. Especially when that woman was the embodiment of alien royalty, radiant warmth, and god-tier beauty?
What you hadn’t expected was how nice she was.
“So you are Y/N,” Starfire said, floating slightly off the ground as she smiled at you with a kind of sunshine-bright sincerity that made it impossible to dislike her. “It is a pleasure to finally meet the one who makes Grumpy-Wing less grumpy.”
You laughed a little. “I—uh—thanks? It’s great to meet you too.”
And it was. But damn, she was everything. Kind, smart, powerful, beautiful. You'd seen the pictures of her and Dick back in their early days: smiling, shoulder to shoulder, picture-perfect in ways that belonged on magazine covers and cheesy soap operas. Even now, years later, they moved around each other like they still shared an orbit.
Not romantic, not anymore, but familiar.
And as the three of you moved through the Titan Tower that weekend, helping out with some team reconvening for a threat that thankfully didn’t escalate, you couldn’t help the thought that rooted in your head like poison ivy.
Why did you guys even break up?
They had chemistry. A history. Years of shared battles, shared glances, and emotional highs and lows. And you? You were just the guy Dick was currently dating. The guy who sometimes stumbled through fight choreography, who needed more coffee than sleep, and who couldn’t fly, unless you counted being thrown by a meta.
You didn’t voice it.
Of course not.
You smiled and teased, joined in the banter, but the seed had been planted. Every time she touched his arm affectionately or burst into laughter at something he said, it watered itself.
And Starfire? She was always so genuine with you.
“You are most humorous,” she beamed after you cracked a joke. “Dick never laughs that way. It is endearing.”
You blinked. “Thanks. I think.”
One afternoon, while Dick was busy coordinating with Cyborg, you and Kory found yourselves lounging on a terrace overlooking the bay, bathed in sunset light and quiet.
“You seem troubled,” she said gently, sipping something fizzy from a glass she probably made sparkle with her fingers.
“Nope,” you said. Then: “...Okay, maybe.”
She tilted her head. “Is it the comparison?”
You froze. She was looking at you with those big green eyes, not with judgment, but understanding. That made it worse somehow.
“I—what?” you asked, a bit too fast.
She smiled. “It is a natural thing. I have known Richard since he was very young, but that is no threat to what you share. If anything…” she leaned in a little, voice low, mischievous. “You and he are very hot together. It makes me wish I had taste in better timing.”
You stared.
“I mean it,” she went on, her smile widening as she leaned back. “Your dynamic is delightful. You challenge him. He softens around you in ways he never did before. And aesthetically? Glorious. Your hair alone could inspire three songs.”
You snorted. “Are you flirting with me?”
“I am complimenting,” she said innocently. “Unless you are open to being flirted with. In which case, yes.”
That was how you and Kory became best friends and when Dick began to act funny. Not in the ha-ha kind of way. No, you’d take goofy knock-knock jokes over what he was doing now.
First it was subtle. He started appearing in rooms he had no business being in. You’d be lounging in the common room, listening to Kory’s latest intergalactic mishaps, and suddenly Dick would appear with a clipboard, muttering something about “inventory checks.”
“In the living room?” you’d ask, raising a brow.
“Important living room supplies,” he’d mutter, shuffling cushions and trying very hard not to glare at your legs draped across Kory’s lap.
Then it escalated.
If Kory threw an arm over your shoulders in the hallway, Dick would suddenly need to “discuss patrol assignments.” If you so much as laughed too long at her joke, he’d swing by like a vulture in a domino mask, kissing your temple in a move so obviously territorial, it practically growled.
Kory noticed. Of course she did. She was a warrior, a princess, and now, your best friend. She took great delight in making your boyfriend squirm.
“Hello, Dick,” she would purr every time he showed up mid-conversation. “We were just discussing how your partner’s biceps have grown. He is becoming so sturdy.”
Dick’s eye would twitch. “Great. Love that.”
It all came to a head one evening while you and Kory were testing out her new “Earth-style fashion experiment.” Somehow, this translated into you wearing a sleeveless mesh top and Kory bedazzling your boots while perched upside down on the couch.
Dick walked in.
Paused.
Looked at you.
Then said, “Cool. When’s the drag show?” You and Kory wheeze with laughter. “Oh come on,” Dick huffed, folding his arms. “You two are literally one hair braid away from running off together.”
Kory beamed. “Do you give us your blessing?”
“I—what?! No, that’s not—” He pointed at you, then her, then back again. “You’re doing this on purpose.”
You stood up, sauntered over, and poked his chest. “Doing what, Grayson? Having fun without you?”
“You’re flirting.”
“She started it.”
“And he is adorably receptive.”
Dick groaned. “Unbelievable. My boyfriend and my ex-girlfriend are best friends and now they’ve unionized against me.”
You grinned and leaned in, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Hey. I’m still yours, y’know.”
He tried to stay mad. Really, he did. But the tips of his ears turned red, and his lips twitched upward despite himself. “Yeah. I know.”
Kory stood as well, looping an arm around each of your shoulders. “Do not worry. I will not steal your boyfriend,” She paused. “Unless you break his heart. In which case I will destroy you and then marry him on a moon garden beneath three suns.”
Could you imagine?—his body twists and swirls around the pole, a ribbon given life and sentience. The thin, stretchy two piece of his, studded in millions of delicate little crystals, catch the light and throw it back in a kaleidoscope of shattered colors like a disco ball.
His limbs glide like he's airborne, his body weightless as he grinds against the slow spinning metallic staff, the strip club's music, a sultry, raunchy song of wanting a man's body carnally, made your heart thump and rattle beneath the layers of your carefully tailored disguise.
Since when was Dick grayson such a talented pole dancer?
He swirled his hips around, spinning around and dancing in a hypnotic rhythm with a siren's devilish allure. You watched as his back arched, chest against the shining shaft, his head falling back with that maddening look of yearning written all over his face—those black swirls coiling and springing sprightly to life as he rolled his hips once more. You knew he had to really play up the whole "pole dancing extraordinaire" for the sake of this mission, but god—
You wanted to be the reason his head threw back, eyes closed and face deliciously pinched as you pumped into him—
Focus.
You look away, lips parted and the rise and collapse of your chest irregular. (Were you shuddering? Why are you being asked if your cold?) You swallow and fix your tie, steeling yourself back into proper attention to the man who you've both been investigating for weeks on account of trafficking drugs throughout Blüdhaven.
"Yeah, I'm fine, something just..caught my eye." You explain, making sure you keep your voice clear enough for dick to hear—being miked up and all.
But the way your cock grew harder, the way it twitched excitedly at the thought of his handsome face in expressions only intercourse could pull out of him, his lithe body writhing and grinding itself deeper into your cock with a desperation that challenged even the most animals in heat, and his limbs wrapping around you, a silent plea to paint his insides white and breed him—
You knew damn well you fell in love, and you're definitely doing more than just "celebrating" after the mission.
(Authors note: check out the poll if you haven't dolls~ <3 !)
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