hello my loves. here we have the masterlist for my first ever kinktober. a huge thank you to all my new followers and to anyone who’s been around since the beginning. october marks a year since this account blew up so this is my little treat to yall. let’s get kinky.
please note the following, some of these works may contain triggering content and kinks that might not be for you, do not click on something you aren't comfortable with, and as always, chars are 19+, minors please do not interact.
MASTERLIST UNDER CUT | ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊🕷
kinktober masterlist. | full masterlist. | 19+ MDNI.
these will be completed in a mix of full fics & blurbs.
october 1st • size kink, big dick.
just the tip. theodore nott
october 4th • loss of virginity / corruption kink.
Summary Your boss decides it’s time for a vacation after a stressful year —using you as his stress relief.
🔗 Masterlist
❤️🔥Passionate Smut❤️🔥 CEO x Secretary •powerplay dynamics •pleasure trip • sexcation •sex on a desk •clitplay •oral on fem• sub Austin• hair pulling • lap riding • restraint • choking fetish • orgasms • aftercare
After a particularly stressful year, with his successful merger and the finality of his divorce, Austin decides it’s time for a break. He relies on you, his most trusted secretary, who’s not only helped him manage every detail of his company but has also been his quiet support navigating his personal challenges.
The clicking of his keys slowly ceases as he finishes his last email. He leans back in his chair, exhaling a slow sigh before looking up at you, his expression softening for the first time in what feels like weeks.
“Pack your bags,” he says, his voice smooth yet resolute. “We’re getting away for a while.”
A slow grin spreads across your lips at his decisiveness. “Is that an order, Mr. Butler?” you tease, stepping around his desk, drawn to him without even thinking.
As you come closer, Austin’s gaze shifts, his blue eyes locking onto yours with a quiet depth that makes your heart race.
“It’s mandatory,” he corrects, his tone lower, more intimate as you push his laptop aside, settling directly in front of him spreading your legs apart on his desk.
His eyes drop to the space between your thighs, his fingers trailing down your silk blouse, his touch slow and appreciative.
“We deserve a break,” he whispers, his thumbs brushing over your waist before skimming lower, tracing the curve of your hips.
You tilt your head, running a hand through his sandy blond hair, your fingers sliding lightly through the curls at the nape of his neck. His breath hitches, his blue eyes flicking up to meet yours filled with lust.
“You understand me the way no one else does,” he confesses, his voice softer, his fingers slipping up your thighs, squeezing lightly as he rises from his chair.
You smile up at him gripping his tie and slowly pulling him toward you until his lips meet yours in a slow, passionate kiss. His hands squeeze your waist as his body presses between your legs, kissing you like he’s been waiting for this moment forever.
This is how it all began, the inevitable affair. The lines blurred the moment you let him kiss you, and after that, there was no stopping it.
You live to indulge his every whim, his every desire, anticipating his needs before he even speaks them aloud himself.
His lips catch yours again, teasing, consuming, his hands splayed over your thighs, grounding you on his desk. One thumb strokes over your clit, the subtle pressure making your breath catch, your legs parting instinctively.
Your hand moves between you, slipping your panties aside, and that’s all he needs. His breath shudders against your lips, his control faltering as he kisses down your neck, weak and hungry for more.
His belt comes undone with a sharp clink, his fingers working fast, unzipping his pants in one smooth motion before easing his large cock free.
Your hands roam up his neck, your nails grazing through the curls at his nape—his weakness.
A shiver runs through him, his head dipping forward as he presses the thick head of his cock against your entrance. A breathy groan spills from his lips as he pushes forward, the stretch making you tense.
A moan spills from your lips, your walls clenching tight and he stills, his grip loosening on your hips as he presses kisses to your jaw, soft and coaxing letting you adjust to the sheer size of him.
Your hand moves between you, your fingers circling your clit, sending surges of pleasure shooting through your core. The sight of you touching yourself, taking him in, makes his jaw clench, as he groans deep from his chest.
His grip retightens, his fingers digging into your thighs as his hips push forward, setting a rhythm that sends waves of pleasure surging through you, his strength keeping you steady as his lips continue to find yours between gasps and moans.
He cups your chin in one hand tilting your face up and capturing your mouth in a reverent kiss, swallowing every sound you make as the pleasure coils tighter, his thrusts hitting deeper, sharper, more precise, pushing you closer to breaking.
And when you finally let go, your head falling back as his name spills from your lips, the pleasure crashes over you in waves, your walls clenching tightly on his cock.
A deep, needy groan fills his chest, his hips jerking as his movements grow faster, less controlled, laced with something desperate, something raw.
Pathetic little grunts spill from his lips, his head tilting back, his breath coming out in short, shallow pants.
“It’s so good—you’re so good,” he rasps, his voice wrecked, needy, completely at your mercy.
You feel it— in the way his body tightens, his muscles flexing against you, the way his breath stutters, his rhythm faltering, his cock twitching deep inside you, betraying just how close he is.
You grip his silk tie, pulling him close until your lips brush against his ear. “Such a good CEO Daddy, taking care of your secretary like this,” you praise, your voice filled with sweet seduction.
The words hit him hard, his entire body responding instantly and your other hand slides up tugging on the curls at his nape just enough to sting, as a desperate, wrecked cry spills from his lips.
You curl his tie around your hand, tightening it just enough to feel the fabric tighten around his throat, the silk taut against his flushed skin.
His Adam’s apple bobs as a raw, choked-off moan breaks from his lips—something between a gasp and a groan, pure and unrestrained.
His hips falter, his body trembling as he fights against the overwhelming pleasure tearing through him.
His flushed face deepens in color, as redness blooms across his cheeks and neck, his chest heaving with shallow, stuttering pants.
His lashes flutter, his blue eyes hazy as you restrain him and he fights against the tension on his neck, until he’s lost in the way you own him in the moment.
His cock throbs violently inside you, pulsing, twitching, his body tightening under your control— completely wrecked, completely yours.
His muscles lock, his hands gripping you tighter as he lets out a deep, shuddering groan, his hips snapping forward in a final, erratic thrust. His jaw goes slack as he comes, his release pulsing deep inside you, his entire body tensing from the force of it.
Slowly, you loosen the knot of his tie, letting the fabric fall slack around his throat.
Before he can even catch his breath, you kiss him immediately, your hands sliding up to cradle his jaw.
He struggles to breathe against your mouth, still panting, still reeling, but he kisses you nonetheless—deep, hungry, desperate to hold onto you just a little longer.
For a moment, you stay wrapped around each other, your breaths mingling, the city lights flickering beyond the window a silent witnesses to everything you both surrendered to.
A sleek black car company arrives at your apartment the next morning, and as you settle into the plush leather seat, a sense of excitement rushes through you.
You can’t quite imagine the world Austin exists in—the kind of life he leads outside of his company—but you’re about to see firsthand.
The drive is smooth, the city changing into the coast. As you approach the marina, the view opens to a collection of yachts, each one grander than the last. But none compare to the one waiting at the farthest dock.
It’s not a yacht —it’s a mega yacht
Your heart skips a beat.
The car pulls to a stop, and as you step out, your gaze finds him immediately.
Austin stands near the dock railing, effortlessly poised, his back to you as he takes in the water.
The ocean breeze ruffles through his sandy blonde hair, his tan Yves Saint Laurent suit impeccably tailored matching the Yves St.Laurent sunglasses perched on his nose adding to his effortless elegance
With his handsome features, catching the last rays of the sun he exudes a quiet power—calm, commanding, utterly at ease in his world of wealth.
When he turns to face you, his expression softens and as he smiles, your heart races slightly.
He’s handsome, undeniably so. But more than that, there’s something magnetic about him—something that makes you feel like the world narrows to just the two of you when he is near.
“You made it.” He grins, pulling you in and pressing a soft lingering kiss to your lips.
You meet his beautiful blue eyes, a smile tugging at your lips as your fingers trail through his sandy blond hair. “Of course, Mr. Butler,” you tease, your voice warm. “Your secretary always takes care of you, doesn’t she?”
His smirk deepens at the playful edge in your tone, his hand taking yours as he turns toward the yacht. Its sheer size is staggering—sleek, towering, and pristine, a floating palace on the water.
As you step forward, absorbing the scene around you, a full crew waits in line along the dock. A chef, a maid, a steward, a captain—and even more unseen . A deckhand, an engineer, a personal concierge, even a massage therapist. Every attendant on the dock is poised with quiet professionalism, their respect for Austin evident in the way they stand at attention.
You glance at Austin, still in disbelief. “All this for you?”
The corners of his mouth lift, his grip on your hand tightening slightly. “For us,” he corrects, his voice rich with certainty.
With his hand resting firmly at the small of your back, he guides you up the gangway. The scent of salt and polished teak fills the air, the gentle sway of the yacht beneath your feet a quiet promise of the luxury and indulgence that awaits.
Before you even step aboard, your bags are taken care of, disappearing into the lavish interior before you can even think about them.
Inside the Yacht the main floor is a vision of opulence. The walls gleam with warm oak paneling, offset by plush ivory furnishings.
Glass doors stretch from floor to ceiling, revealing the ocean beyond. A grand spiral staircase leads to the upper levels, while an open lounge area seats deep leather sofas, a marble bar stocked with rare liquors, and a grand piano gleaming in the corner.
“Austin,” you breathe, still processing the sheer size of it all.
He only watches you, hands in his pockets, amused at your reaction.
“Come with me,” he says, leading you down a hallway lined with abstract artwork.
He opens a set of doubles doors stepping aside so you can take in the stateroom—his bedroom.
The space is nothing short of a sanctuary. A massive king-sized bed with crisp Egyptian cotton sheets dominates the room, positioned against a padded suede headboard. Soft lighting glows from beneath the furniture, casting a golden hue.
At the far end, a wall of glass doors leads to a private deck, the ocean stretching infinitely beyond it. A walk-in closet larger than most apartments sits to one side, while an ensuite bathroom holds a soaking tub, a rainfall shower, and marble countertops lined with luxury skincare.
And then, there’s the iPad.
You pick it up, curiosity piqued, and scroll through its customized settings.
•Sleep: natural rhythm.
•Music Preferences: Your favorite artists already uploaded.
•Meal Preferences: Notes on your favorite dishes, ingredients, even your preferred coffee order.
You glance at Austin, stunned. “You did all this?”
His hands settle on your waist, his voice steady. “I pay attention.” He says.
You grin, tilting your head up as you close the space between you, pressing your lips to his in a slow lingering kiss.
It’s soft at first filled with all you’re appreciation and when Austin deepens it, you suddenly feel it everywhere.
His lips press against yours with purpose, his tongue gliding out, tracing your bottom lip for entry
You part for him, allowing him in, and the second his tongue strokes against yours a rush of pleasure shoots down your spine.
His tongue moves in deep, languid strokes, teasing, exploring, making you feel every second of it
A soft, pleased sound escapes you against his lips as your fingers curl into the hair at the nape of his neck, needing something to hold onto.
A soft knock interrupts, breaking the moment as you and Austin pull back from the kiss “ I forgot our little surprise.” he says.
As he opens the door a steward awaits with two glasses of chilled champagne.
“To celebrate “ Austin grins and takes a glass, offering the other to you
“To getting away after a stressful year,” he says, lifting his glass in a quiet toast. You smile, tapping your glass against his, the crisp chime of crystal filling the air.
“We deserve a break,” you grin, repeating his own words and taking a slow sip of champagne feeling the tingling against your lips before drinking it down smoothly.
Austin watches you for a moment, then drains his glass in one slow pull. Without another word, he takes your hand, his grip warm and certain, leading you toward the bow. “I want to show you the best view” he says.
The yacht begins to move, gliding out of the harbor and into the open sea as you reach the bow. The water shifts from a deep sapphire to a boundless dark blue, the city skyline shrinking in the distance.
Austin steps behind you poised at the railing, his warmth solid against your back, his arms wrapping around your waist. The salty air brushes your skin as you exhale, finally feeling the tension leaving your body.
“You see yourself living like this more often?” he asks, his lips brushing the shell of your ear.
You smile, tilting your head slightly. “I could definitely get used to a life like this.” you confess and he grins pressing a slow, lingering kiss behind your ear that makes you smile.
As the sun sets, dinner is served on the upper deck. The ocean turns black, an endless void stretching beneath a sky speckled with stars.
The table is set with candlelight, and before you sits a perfectly prepared lobster, the scent of butter and herbs filling the air.
You wear a dress that catches Austin’s eye, a silk, elegant, backless gown that hugs your curves in all the right places. His gaze darkens as he watches you, his appreciation obvious.
A steward pours wine into crystal glasses, the deep red liquid catching the light.
Austin lifts his glass, his eyes steady on yours in a toast.
“To you,” he says, his voice low and sincere. “For everything this year.”
You lift your glass, meeting his gaze as you clink yours against his, the soft chime of crystal ringing through air.
Bringing the rim to your lips, you take a sip, the rich notes of dark fruit and oak lingering on your tongue, the warmth spreading through you.
You meet his gaze, knowing exactly what he means. It hasn’t been an easy year for either of you, with his sudden divorce and recent merger, and yet, you had been there through it all.
In this peaceful moment, you can see through the layers of who he is— the powerful CEO, the man who keeps everything in control—and the one looking at you now, seeking, searching for something more.
“I’m glad I could be here for you,” you say, your voice steady, despite the flutter in your chest.
Austin smiles, a small, almost shy smile.
For a moment, there is no need for words. The quiet bond between you is all that matters.
After dinner you both enter the master stateroom, the ocean hums against the hull, a soothing, rhythmic sound that fills the opulent space.
The room is bathed in blue moonlight, casting soft shadows over the suede paneled walls and sleek ebony furnishings.
A marble fireplace flickers with a low flame, its warmth subtle against the cool sea air drifting through the slightly open balcony doors.
Austin watches you as you glide across his room, your fingers trailing absentmindedly over the solid crystal plaque mounted on a sleek ebony pedestal with a prestigious award engraved with his name
Your eyes roam the room, taking in the understated elegance of his personal space—the place where he sleeps, where he unwinds from the weight of his empire.
Your backless dress dips low, revealing the delicate curve of your waist, the fabric clinging to your hips before pooling at your feet. Austin follows the motion as you slowly pace the room, his gaze dark and intensely observant.
“You did so much for me this year,” he confides, his voice quieter now, reverent, thoughtful. His hands rest in his pockets, but there’s something in the way he holds himself—open, vulnerable, unguarded.
His throat works around the words, his jaw tensing before he continues. “You helped me in more ways than I ever thought possible.”he says, his voice softer. “And I want to make sure you know that I appreciate you—more than words can really convey.”
You pause, the weight of his admission settling between you like an unspoken promise.
Then, you turn just enough to glance at him your eyes catching his ,seeing his expression unwavering with the sincerity of his words
You pause, your voice filled with certainty.
“There’s still so much more I want to do for you, Austin,” you confess, your voice laced with intent, heavy with meaning.
You cross the distance between you, watching as his chest rises and falls a little deeper, his breath slowing, his eyes locked onto yours.
The moment your bodies touch, his hands find you, sliding up, fingertips ghosting over the silk of your backless dress, tracing the exposed curve of your spine.
You find the nape of his neck, threading your fingers into the soft strands of his hair, tugging just enough to make his breath catch.
You kiss him, slow at first, languid, teasing, drawing him in only to slip away. His lips chase yours, desperate for more, but you pull back slightly, just as he tries to kiss you again, your breath warm against his lips. “Let me take care of you.” You whisper.
His jaw clenches, his breath uneven as his eyes flicker with something unspoken, something deeper.
“I want that— I want you,” he admits, his voice strained with desire.
His hands find your hips, fingers digging in just enough to remind you who he is, how much he wants you.
Your hand drifts lower, fingers slipping into the slight part in his pristine white button-up, the thin stripes barely visible under the low light.
With a single, measured pull you guide him forward, leading him toward the bed as he follows your silent command.
When you reach the bed, you push him down, making him sit.
His hands grip the mattress as he tilts his head up and the way he looks at you —as if he’s already lost in you, as if he’s willing to let you strip him of everything he controls—sends a thrill through you.
Slowly, methodically, you begin to undress him.
First, you unfasten the buttons of his YSL dress shirt, exposing the smooth, golden skin of his collarbone.
As his white shirt falls open you push it from his shoulders, revealing the strong lines of his chest, the way his breath deepens betraying how much he wants you.
Next, your fingers move to his belt pulling the leather through the loops with a soft whispering hiss before placing it on the bed.
The tan fabric of his slacks feels impossibly expensive beneath your touch. You pop open the button, dragging down the zipper with the slowest pull, feeling the way his thighs tense beneath your palm.
You kneel down to remove his dress shoes , watching the way he looks at you—his eye hungry, waiting and willing to let you take everything from him tonight.
By the time he’s sitting naked before you, stripped of his power, his influence, his carefully controlled persona, he looks up at you with something close to devotion.
And you know—you have him exactly where you want him.
Your fingers take the leather belt resting on the bed, lifting it slowly, intentionally.
His eyes track the movement, his body tense with anticipation as you loop the belt around his neck, securing it just enough to stay in place.
He swallows hard, his jaw tightening, his muscles flexing as the cool leather presses against his throat.
You tilt your head, watching him with amusement in your eyes.
“Such a powerful CEO,” you muse your finger gliding along the leather at his throat.
“A man with infinite wealth and influence—feared in boardrooms, respected across industries.”
You step back as your grip on the belt tightens.
“And yet, your brought down on your knees by a mere secretary.”
Before he can react you give the belt a sharp tug.
His breath catches, his body falling forward on his knees after the pull.
You smile tilting his chin up with a single finger, letting the belt stay snug around his neck, watching how his breath hitches, his pupils blown wide, completely, undone, completely yours.
“Pull up my dress.” You direct.
He obeys, his hands sliding up your thighs, bunching the silky fabric higher until your fingers hold it in place. His own pausing as he reaches for the delicate lace beneath.
“Take them off.” You order.
Without hesitation he hooks his fingers into your panties, pulling them down your legs.
The feel of his breath is warm on your skin as he presses soft kisses to the inside of your thighs already knowing what’s next.
His eyes dark and hungry as he looks up at you utterly willing to ruin himself for you.
“Such a commanding CEO,” you praise, your nails grazing his scalp just enough to make him shiver. “Always in charge and in control, isn’t that right?” You purr, threading your fingers in his hair tugging just enough to make him groan.
“But not tonight.” You pause, letting the words settle between you, “Tonight, you’re going to please me until I’m satisfied for all of my hard work this year.”
His response is instant, a deep desperate groan filled with need from his chest.
You give the belt a sharp tug bringing his face forward and he buries himself between your thighs, his mouth latching onto you with an eagerness that makes your breath stutter.
His hands spread against the backs of your legs, holding you open, holding you still, as he devours you with long, slow strokes of his tongue, then sharper, hungrier ones.
The first lick of his tongue makes your head fall back, a breathy gasp escaping your lips. The next has your fingers tightening in his hair, urging him closer, deeper.
“Austin!” you gasp, looking down at him, watching the way his broad shoulders flex, the way his biceps tighten as he grips you, anchoring himself to you in the moment.
His mouth works harder, faster, sucking, teasing, flicking his tongue in devastating rhythms. Your thighs start to tremble, pleasure coiling tight, and he feels it—he knows it—because he groans against you, the vibration making you gasp.
“Oh —Austin.” You moan your voice breathless.
He groans again—wrecked, desperate, lost in the act of pleasing you.
And when the pleasure finally snaps, when your body shudders against his mouth, your thighs tense as a broken moans spills from your lips. He drags you through every last wave, his tongue relentless, drinking in every shudder, every gasp, every whimper until you’re panting, spent, body trembling in his grasp.
Finally, you release your dress as he pulls back, looking up at you. His lips are swollen, glistening with evidence of just how thoroughly he’s pleased you. His chest rises and falls, his muscles taut, hands still gripping your thighs like he can’t bear to let go.
You run your fingers lazily through his hair as you slowly recover.
“Good boy.” You praise, the words so beneath his status they make him shudder.
You tighten your grip on the belt, pulling with just enough force to make him obey.
“Stand up.” You direct, the belt working around his throat as he rises to his full height.
His muscles are tense, his, chest rising and falling beneath the pale glow of the moonlight. But your eyes wander lower, seeing the way his cock stands thick and hard between his legs. His impressive length is flushed, impossibly pink, leaking, a single bead of precum at the tip.
You press a hand to his hip, firm, controlling, guiding him backward. He walks as you direct, his body tight with need, his thighs tense, his cock swaying with every motion, thick and desperate for attention.
The backs of his knees hit the edge of the bed, and with a firm push, you make him sit.
His breath catches, his eyes flicking up to you, dark with anticipation, his fingers gripping the sheets as if bracing himself for what’s to come.
Slowly you release the belt, letting it fall over his back still looped around his throat, and you step away watching the way his chest rises and falls, the way his cock stands firmly aching in his lap.
His eyes never leave you, tracking your every movement with a hunger that borders on reverence as you pull the delicate straps of your silk dress slipping them from your shoulders, letting fabric fall at your feet.
A sharp breath leaves him seeing your nakedness, his fingers twitching against the sheets, his jaw clenching as his gaze darkens with raw lust, wanting to get up and take you right there.
You step forward, closing the space between you, climbing onto his lap, straddling him. His breath stutters, his hands instinctively finding your hips, his cock pressing against you, hot and rigid.
His lips part, but before he can speak, you lean in, pressing your lips to his in a slow, open-mouthed kiss.
He exhales a low, needy sound against your mouth, his hands gripping your hips like he wants to take control—but you don’t let him. You tilt your head, deepening the kiss dragging your lips over his, coaxing, demanding.
By the time you pull back, he’s a mess—his lips flushed and deep pink, slick and swollen from your kiss.
“You’ve been so good for me,” you whisper, your lips trailing lower, pressing warm kisses along his throat, feeling his pulse thrum beneath your mouth. “It’s only right that I give you what you need.”
His groan is deep, guttural, almost pained as you lower yourself onto him, taking him in inch by inch, feeling the stretch, the slow, maddening slide as he fills you completely.
His fingers dig into your hips, his breath coming out in a sharp, shattered exhale as he watches you, needing you—completely at your mercy.
You start slow, rolling your hips, feeling every inch of him inside you, dragging him deeper, making him feel it. His jaw tightens, a shuddering breath escaping him as his hands grip you tighter.
Every push, every roll of your hips sends another soft moan from him as the belt metal clicks skimming his back, a teasing reminder of who is in control.
“Fuck—” he groans, his voice wrecked, raw, his hands flexing on your waist like he’s holding himself back from taking over, from flipping you beneath him and losing himself completely.
You ride him harder, pushing deeper, your own pleasure mounting with every movement, every desperate noise you makes, every soft moan that falls from your lips bringing you both closer to the edge.
His body trembles beneath you, his breath coming in uneven gasps, his muscles straining as he tries to last, to keep from giving in too soon.
You feel it—the way his cock throbs inside you, the way his restraint starts to crumble.
And when your own release begins to peak, your body tensing, shuddering with pleasure, you gather the belt in your hand pulling it around his throat at its tightest.
His breath catches, his pupils blown wide at the sensation of being strangled.
All his wealth, his power, his influence— everything he is, everything he’s built, is all stripped away, reduced to this one fleeting moment as the world narrows in front of his eyes.
He’s helpless, undone, his body tense and trembling as you take him deeper, riding him harder to make him come.
Every roll of your hips sends sparks racing through you, your pleasure building, coiling tighter and tighter. You grind down on him, stretching yourself around his cock, reveling in the perfect friction.
As the tension inside you snaps a moan rips from your throat, sharp and raw, your thighs shaking as your body clenches around him feeling waves of pleasure break over you.
His body shudders, his hips barely thrusting, as he chokes seeing stars, his muscles tensing as his eyes roll up feeling the indescribable pleasure of being strangulated on his neck and his cock simultaneously.
You feel every throb, every desperate twitch, as his cock pulses deep inside of you, his come thick and hot, spreading through your core filling you completely until his body goes slack utterly spent.
You release the belt, and his lungs drag in a deep labored gasp, his chest heaving as reality slowly filters back in.
His pulse thrumming beneath your fingertips as you slide the belt from around his neck.
You gasp seeing the deep crimson mark blooming across his tan skin, stretching from one side of his throat to the other.
His chest rises and falls in uneven breaths, his muscles twitching from the aftershocks of what just happened to him.
The faintest sheen of perspiration clings to his him, trailing down to his toned abs, his kiss-bitten lips slightly parted as he gasps for breath.
But that mark— red, hot, and unmistakable— pulls at something deep inside of you.
Quickly you slide off his cock and climb from his lap scanning the room in search of something to soothe the lingering marks forming on his skin.
You press a few low recessed panels, fingers sweeping over the smooth, expensive finish, before one finally clicks open to reveal a hidden mini fridge.
Inside a glittering collection of top-shelf liquor and rare vintage bottles gleam under the soft, ambient lighting.
Without thinking, you reach in and grab the first thing your fingers close around— a chilled bottle of champagne, the label alone telling you it’s worth well over than a thousand dollars.
Returning to Austin, you gently guide him to lie flat against the bed, his broad, sweat-slicked chest rising and falling as he watches you through half-lidded eyes.
“You poor baby,” you coo, voice filled with affection as you bring the icy glass bottle to his neck.
The moment the chilled surface meets his overheated skin, he groans— low, rough,utterly wrecked.
His eyes flutter closed, his lashes dark against his flushed cheeks, his lips parting just enough to exhale a shaky breath.
“Oh you poor thing ,” you pout, stroking his damp hair back from his forehead before pressing a lingering kiss there.
His fingers twitch against the sheets before he blindly reaches for you, finding your hand and bringing it to his lips.
When his mouth kisses your knuckles, you slide your hand to his cheek.
The way he sighs, leaning into your touch, utterly devoted to you in this moment, sends a slow warmth spreading through your chest.
“You take such good care of me,” he breathes, his voice rasping and hoarse.
“I think—” He swallows, his throat bobbing beneath the cooling glass. “I think I’m in love with you.”
For a moment, you just stare at him—his face still rosy from exertion, his hair tousled from your fingers, his body helpless and spent.
He looks completely and utterly undone.
And yet he’s never looked more beautiful.
You set the champagne bottle aside and crawl back over him, straddling his waist. His hands immediately find your thighs, fingers kneading in as if grounding himself.
You lean down, lips grazing the mark on his throat, where the belt left its proof. His breath hitches, fingers twitching against your skin as you press a kiss to it.
“You think you’re in love with me?” you repeat, playing with the words, testing them as you tilt his chin so he can meet your gaze.
He nods, his blue eyes dark with something reverent. “Yeah. I am.” He confesses.
You smile as you lower your lips to his in a slow deep kiss, drinking in the taste of him— the lingering salt on his skin, the faintest remnants of wine on his tongue.
When you finally pull back, he’s staring at you like you’ve just rewritten the fabric of his universe.
“You’ll never forget this, will you?” you whisper as you stroke his jaw.
His smile is lazy, adoring. “Not in a million years.”
summary— as the two of you become more intimate, you uncover Young-il is not who he claims to be. He’s revealed to be the Hwang In-ho, the mastermind behind the entire game. As he manipulates you with his affections, you begin to question everything you thought you knew about him with the line between love and manipulation becoming increasingly blurred
warnings— age gap(reader is in her 20s, he’s in his late 40s) the usual squid games violence mentions, manipulation and deceit, fingering, choking, nipple play, oral(f!receiving), praise kink, body worship, mirror sex, unprotected sex, creampie, aftercare.
a/n— requests are open but i take a while to get to them, patience <3 like and reblog <3
Part I
It was a war zone. Screams and shouts echoed through the space as players turned on each other, desperation driving them to violence. You’d managed to stay out of it for the most part, keeping close to the quieter players, but tonight, the group had decided it was time to go after the organizers of the game.
“Stick with me,” Young-il, the player who had stuck by your side since the start, urged.
You nodded, clutching your arm. “Where are we going?”
He tightened his grip on your wrist. “Trust me. I’ll get you out of here.”
The two of you weaved through the chaos, narrowly dodging bullets as guards closed in. One of them lunged at you after having their gun taken, and before you could react, Young-il used a gun to shoot them.
“Keep moving,” he barked, his voice unusually firm.
As the two of you made your way through what you called a maze, a steel door loomed and you couldn’t help but notice how methodical Young-il was. He fought with precision, taking down and guards and helping the group as you pressed forward.
“In here!” he said, dragging you through a hidden corridor behind the door.
Your heart pounded as the sounds of chaos grew fainter. “Where are we going? How do you know about this place?”
He didn’t answer, his jaw clenched as he led you through the dimly lit hallway. When two guards appeared, you froze, expecting them to attack, but Young-il stepped forward, raising his hands.
“It’s me,” he said coolly.
To your shock, they stepped aside, lowering their weapons.
“What the hell?” you whispered, staring at him in disbelief.
He turned to you, his expression unreadable. “I’ll explain everything. Just stay with me.”
You followed him through the hallway, each step filling you with dread. At the end of the corridor, he pushed open a heavy door, revealing a sleek, high-tech room filled with monitors.
You froze in the doorway. The screens displayed every corner of the facility, the dormitory, the games, the guards. It was the command center.
“What is this?” you demanded, turning to him.
He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he reached to a table and picked up a black mask that had been hidden.
“You’re the organizer of the games?” you whispered, recognizing that he was what they were after.
“I wanted to tell you,” he said quietly, stepping closer. “But I couldn’t. Not yet.”
“You’re the Front Man?” Your voice trembled as the realization hit you like a freight train. “You’ve been running this whole thing?”
“It’s not that simple,” he said, his tone laced with guilt. “I didn’t want you here. I never wanted you to get hurt.”
Tears blurred your vision as you stepped back. “You lied to me. All this time, I thought—I thought you were one of us. I slept with you!”
“I did what I had to do to protect you and—forget that,” he said, taking your hand firmly.
You pulled your hand away, anger bubbling to the surface. “And this is your idea of protection? Letting people die?”
“I’ve kept you alive, haven’t I?” His voice softened, and for a moment, you saw the man you thought you knew. “I brought you here because it’s the only safe place left. Please, just trust me.”
The heavy doors to his quarters slid open, and he guided you inside with a hand on your back. The room was cold and sterile, lined with screens showing every corner of the games. You felt a shiver crawl up your spine as you realized how removed this place was from the chaos you’d just escaped.
He stood by the console, running a hand through his damp hair as his chest rose and fell with controlled breaths. He was fighting to keep his expression neutral, but you noticed the faintest flicker of something else, a strain, like he was holding back.
“I need to explain,” he said, his tone carefully measured.
You crossed your arms, your voice trembling. “Explain what? That you lied to everyone? To me?”
He exhaled sharply, his jaw tightening as he walked closer. “I had no choice. My name isn’t Young-il. It’s Hwang In-ho. I entered the game for a reason, to infiltrate and dismantle this from the inside.”
There it was again—that careful modulation of his voice, as if he was reading from a script. But the way he avoided your eyes gave him away.
The real truth you were unaware of was that he didn’t care about dismantling anything. The truth was, the deaths, the violence, it didn’t matter to him. The only thing he cared about was you. His sweet, pretty little thing.
“What about our friends?” you asked, cutting through the silence. Your voice cracked as you thought of the people you’d fought beside. “What happened to them?”
His lips pressed into a thin line. “Don’t worry about them,” he said coldly. “It’s just me and you now.”
“Don’t worry?” you repeated, your voice rising. “They were our allies, our—”
“They don’t matter,” he interrupted, his tone hard. “You matter. I’ve done everything to protect you. Every choice I’ve made, every lie—it was all for you.”
You stared at him, unsure whether to believe the man in front of you. His eyes softened as he stepped closer, his fingers brushing over your arm. “I know it’s hard to trust me right now. But you’re safe. That’s all that matters.”
You shook your head, your mind racing. “I don’t even know who you are right now.”
“You’ll see,” he murmured, his thumb grazing your knuckles as he took your hand. “You’ll see that everything I’ve done has been for you.”
He straightened, his voice firm again. “You can get cleaned up. There are clothes for you in the bathroom.”
You walked into the sleek bathroom, its stark white tiles almost blinding under the fluorescent lights. A stack of fresh clothes sat neatly on the counter, along with a towel. The sound of water running filled the room as you stepped under the stream, letting the heat wash away the violence of the night.
You hadn’t heard him enter until you felt his hands on your waist. “In-ho?” you gasped, turning to see him standing behind you, naked, water dripping down his hair.
“I told you,” he murmured, his lips quirking into a faint smirk. “I’m not leaving you alone.”
Before you could respond, his hand tilted your chin upward, and his lips were on yours. The kiss was slow, his fingers tangling in your wet hair as he deepened it. You felt his other hand slide to the small of your back, pulling you closer until there was no space between you.
“Is this your way of making me trust you?” you whispered against his lips, your breath hitching.
He chuckled softly, his forehead resting against yours. “Maybe.” His voice dropped to a near whisper. “Or maybe I just can’t stay away from you.”
For a moment, you let yourself get lost in it, the warmth of his lips, the weight of his arms on your naked body. But in the back of your mind, the doubts lingered, like a dark cloud that wouldn’t leave. As his lips trailed down your neck, you fought to push the thoughts away, telling yourself you could question him later. You really wanted to argue, to pull away, but the warmth of his hands against your wet skin, the way his breath fanned across your neck, made your protests dissolve before they even formed.
“I can feel how tense you are,” he continued, his fingers tracing slow circles along your hip. “Let me take care of you. You don’t have to do anything.”
You swallowed hard, the heat from the water mixing with the heat of his touch. “I don’t know,” you whispered, your voice shaky.
“Yes, you do,” he countered softly, his lips skimming your jaw. “You know I’ll make you feel good. I always do.”
His hand moved lower, his fingers slipping along your thigh and feeling a slick wetness completely different from the water, and you couldn’t suppress the shiver that ran through you. “See?” he said. “Your body knows. It always knows.”
His fingers teased higher, the pads of his fingertips grazing your clit with a deliberate slowness that made your breath hitch. You leaned against the tiled wall for support, your knees threatening to give out. Pleasure ran through your body and you opened your eyes to stare into his dark ones as they locked on you. They broke away from you, looking down at your breasts that were cascaded in warm water before leaning down and swirling his tongue over them, his fingers still rubbing your clit.
Soft whimpers left your lips even though you tried your hardest to suppress them. You bit your tongue as he took your nipple between his teeth and bit down gently, a finger now slipping inside your wet pussy.
“Look at you,” he whispered, his voice filled with quiet praise. “So beautiful. So perfect for me. Your body is a masterpiece.”
Your head tipped back, water running down your face as his fingers found your sweet spot, the pressure just enough to make you gasp. “In-ho,” you breathed, your voice trembling with equal parts of protest and need.
“I’ve got you,” he murmured, his free hand moving to cradle your face, tilting it toward him. “I won’t let you fall. Just trust me.”
He moved his hand back down to your breast, kneading it as you involuntarily arched into his touch. A small smirk played on his lips and he leaned down, placing a kiss on yours. Another finger found its way inside your pussy, as his thumb skillfully rubbed your clit, increasing your pleasure. His fingers curled, and he used his free fingers to gently pinch and pull on your nipples as you tried to stop the soft moans from leaving your lips.
The sensation was overwhelming, his touch unrelenting, and the praise spilling from his lips only heightened it. “That’s it my good little girl,” he coaxed, his lips brushing against yours before capturing them fully, swallowing the sounds that escaped you.
His kiss was possessive, almost desperate, as if he couldn’t bear the thought of anyone hearing you but him. His fingers thrusted faster inside you with an expert rhythm, sending sparks of pleasure through your body. “You’re such a good girl for me,” he whispered against your lips, his voice low and intoxicating. “So perfect, every part of you. All mine.”
You clung to him, your nails digging into his shoulders as an orgasm built inside you. “That’s my girl,” he murmured. “Let me see you cum, just for me.”
His fingers went faster and your body gave in, the release was swift and all consuming, leaving you trembling and moaning his name in his arms. He held you close, his hands steadying you as your breathing slowed.
“See how good that felt?” In-ho murmured, his lips curving into a small smile. “It can get even better.”
A flicker of shame passed through you, how could you let him do this, knowing what was happening just outside these quarters? The chaos, the danger, the people you had left behind. But the moment his hands trailed down your waist, firm and grounding, the doubt began to dissolve.
“In-ho,” you whispered, though your voice betrayed you, shaky and soft.
“I know angel,” he said gently, his forehead resting against yours for a moment. “But don’t think about anything else right now. It’s just you and me here. No one else matters.”
Before you could reply, he dropped to his knees. The sight of him kneeling before you, his dark hair dripping with water, made your breath catch.
His hands found your thighs, spreading them slightly as his lips pressed kisses on your pussy. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice husky. “Let me show you.”
Your hands instinctively found their way to his hair, your fingers tangling in the damp strands as his lips engulfed your throbbing clit. He worked with slow, deliberate care, his mouth trailing heat over your pussy.
“You’re perfect,” he whispered between kisses, his breath warm against you. “So good for me. You always are.”
His tongue flicked over your clit fast, better than your fingers or anyone else could ever feel on you. He licked from your entrance back up to your clit, swirling his tongue and suckling like a starved man.
Your grip in his hair tightened as a low sound escaped you, and he let out a quiet chuckle, clearly pleased with your reaction. “That’s it,” he murmured. “Don’t hold back. Let me hear you.”
For a moment, all thoughts of the world outside were forgotten. The only thing that existed was the feel of his lips and the steady stream of praise falling from them.
“You’re mine,” he whispered, his voice reverent yet commanding. “I’m not letting you go anywhere.”
He ate you out like he had something to prove. Like he was showing you that no one else could care for you so much that it reflected in how they pleasured you. His tongue slipped inside your pussy, thrusting gently as you shivered and let out soft whimpers that made his dick hard. All that clouded your mind now was his tongue, exploring every inch of your needy, quivering pussy, licking up and down and slurping on your clit.
Your grip in his hair tightened again as your breaths turned shallow, your body trembling under his touch. He moved with such precision, as though he knew exactly what your pussy ached for. The sound of the water cascading around you only heightened your senses, every touch, every flicker of his tongue sending waves of pleasure through you.
“Come on sweetheart,” he murmured against your skin, his voice a low, rumbling praise that sent a shiver up your spine. “Just cum for me. Be good for me.”
Your fingers clenched in his wet hair, and your body obeyed, your orgasm spilling over as the pleasure became too much to contain and you squirted in his mouth.
“Good girl,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your clit one last time before he stood, his hands trailing up your sides to pull you against him. You could feel the strength of him, solid, grounding you as you tried to catch your breath.
He leaned in, his mouth capturing yours in a heated kiss, his hands sliding down to your hips. “See how good I can make you feel?” he murmured against your lips.
Before you could respond, he turned you gently, guiding your hands to brace against the tile as the warmth of the water poured over you. His lips found the curve of your shoulder, trailing kisses along your neck as his hands explored your wet, naked body.
“You feel so perfect,” he whispered, his voice filled with quiet reverence. “I won’t stay away from you, you know that?”
As his hands gently groped your ass, you could feel his hard cock pressing against you. His breath was warm against the back of your neck, his words soft but full of lust. “I need to fuck you,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire.
“Please- please do,” you whimpered.
You could feel the way he was responding to you, his cock against your ass telling you everything you needed to know. Your pulse raced as you gave in to the moment, not wanting to fight the pull between you. You both let out low moans as he entered your tight pussy from behind, halting for a second to give you time to adjust to his sheer size. He was so thick, stretching and filling you in ways you knew no one else could.
He began steadily rutting into you, the sound of skin slapping amplified by the water making him chuckle lightly. His lips pressed against your neck as your pussy gripped his cock like it never wanted to let him go.
His voice was a little hoarse as he whispered, “You feel so fucking good.”
His hands shifted, one sliding around your neck, the pressure just enough to make you gasp. You leaned into it, feeling the pleasure rise inside you. With every thrust, he took his time, drawing out each moan, each squelch of your pussy that sent your heart racing.
He looked down at your ass bouncing against him, and you swore his cock throbbed inside you. With his hand still around your neck, the other reached in front, rubbing rough circles on your clit as his cock hit your g spot repeatedly.
“Relax,” he whispered softly. “I’ve got you. Cum on my cock.”
His words, his touch, it was all part of this undeniable force pulling you closer, and you gave in, your pussy soaking his cock buried inside you, surrendering to the moment, feeling more alive than you’d ever thought possible these last few days.
After drying off, the steam from the shower clung to your skin. The mirror fogged up just a bit from the warmth, but it only added to the intimacy of the moment. His hands gently cupped your waist as he stood close behind you. You could see his reflection in the mirror, his gaze intense as he met your eyes through the glass.
“You’re breathtaking,” he whispered, his breath warm on the back of your neck. His hands traced your sides slowly, memorizing every curve, every inch of you. “From the moment I saw you, I knew I had to protect you.”
The words made your chest tighten, a mix of emotions swirling within you. You’d never felt so seen, so cared for, as if everything about you mattered to him. He continued, his voice low, full of reverence, “You’re my priority. I would do anything for you. No one else matters but you.”
He stared at you in the mirror as his hard length entered you again. He moaned into your ear, the deep sound going to your pussy and making it throb as he began fucking you again. Your mouth fell open, the intimacy of the moment sending ripples of need through you. His large hands cupped your breasts, groping and tweaking your nipples as you met the roll of his hips, fucking him back as he pounded your pussy.
The mirror reflected the way his eyes softened as they traced your brown skin, his admiration for you evident in the way he held you. He kissed your shoulder, your neck and then your temple, the feel of his lips on you making you shiver.
“No one else matters. They don’t fucking matter, only my pretty little angel,” he murmured
With every thrust, he showed you just how much you meant to him, his actions speaking louder than words ever could. You could feel the care, the devotion, and the unwavering desire to be close to you, to cherish you in some lowkey sick and twisted way. It was a rare and overwhelming feeling, one that made your heart race and your pulse quicken.
“Every.part.of.you,” he murmured, thrusting with word, his lips brushing against your ear, “is.perfect.to.me.”
You couldn’t hold on much longer. He was right at the edge waiting too. Your hand reached behind him, bringing his head down to suck on your neck, his eyes still locked onto yours in the mirror as you squirted on his cock. Your pussy drenched him, your juices trailing down your thighs and his as you convulsed with him still inside you.
“That’s my good girl, fuck, I’m gonna cum too, deep inside this tight pussy. Take it for me sweetheart,” he groaned.
He let out a deep, guttural moan and you hummed in content, feeling his hot load fill you to the brim.
As your highs passed, you could feel the air between you slowly easing. His lips brushed against your temple, soft and tender, grounding you. His voice was gentle but firm, “I’m here. It’s just us now. That’s all that matters.”
His words were soothing you in a way that only he could. With delicate care, he cleaned you up, his touch surprisingly gentle despite everything that had just happened. Then, he led you to the bed, helping you lie down as he dressed you slowly, making sure you were comfortable.
“You’ll get all the answers you need,” he said quietly, his hand brushing a strand of your curls away from your face, “in due time. Just trust me. Be patient.”
You let out a soft breath, not fully understanding everything, but something in his words made you want to believe him. Trust. What a word. It was so simple yet so heavy. Could you really place it in his hands, when everything else felt so uncertain?
You looked up at him. “Trust,” you echoed, “you’re really good at making that sound easy.”
He returned your smile, though it was tinged with something darker, something unreadable. “I don’t need you to trust me now. Just know I’ll never let you go.”
Bill Skarsgård nos trouxe o vilão mais estiloso. Ele não apenas fica bem com roupas bonitas, mas também traz consigo os conjuntos mais luxuosos de Paris. Graças a ele vimos muitas atrações turísticas que normalmente não veremos em um filme de John Wick.
Era pra ter postado antes, mas só agora me lembrei.
omg like a nsfw homelander one shot where he fucks like f!reader he actually knows well and genuinely likes and the reader actually likes him back??? (all these homelander stories have only him hate fucking them :(( makes me sad) THANK YOU LOVE YOU 💕💕💕
MOON SONG || NSFW Homelander one-shot
You know the killer doesn’t understand.
Warnings: none? Except more internal monologue than actual sex my bad guys 😔 also idk how his outfit actually works so bare with me
AFAB! Reader
__________________________________________
He hates this. You. You looking so pretty that it doesn’t feel right. The warmth in his stomach, like he can be killed.
But you look so nice - and it’s all for him. John knows this. He feels like he’s being punished. Why? He’s done everything right? He deserves more.
You turn, smiling small, tears glittering. You always look so small next to him, most people do - but it’s natural for you. To be something John can hide and hover. He takes you by the waist, squeezing and squeezing until you push into his hips - all needy, as you should be.
You’re here every Wednesday, you’ve been here every Wednesday since last Summer. The first Wednesday, you were like everyone else. That in itself makes John’s eyes roll. You became some assistant to somebody in some compartment and on and on and on. You really were like everyone else, and if you weren’t so…nice, you would’ve stayed that way.
Then, one day, you try to make conversation with him. The nerve, it’s almost admirable. He’s waiting to go on some show and you’re trying to kill time - but in reality, you’re trying to kill him. Honestly, but then John pushes you away as is right, because why would he talk to some low-life assistant to pass the time?
But you just laugh at his tight tone, all light and gentle with a smile that makes John feel like he’s been burning forever - he almost coughs.
You’re a pusher, he can tell. So, okay - he’ll bite.
Suddenly it’s a game to get you to crack, to make you like everyone else so you can just leave him alone. For you to either be some heiny-fucks that’ll praise him to death or to be one of those heiny-fucks that think they’re better than him. But no, you’re friendly. Why? He doesn’t fucking know.
Suddenly, you won’t leave him alone, even when you’re not there - cause suddenly John is thinking of ways he can see you - and as the months go on, he’s thinking of ways to make you happy.
It’s a really weird feeling that pushes on his lungs. John will see you and feel a sick, warming hand on his chest. He can admit, eventually - that he wants to see you. Regrettably. Gross, right?
It’s not regret that comes when he can get you to laugh, to press your hand on his shoulder. He doesn’t know what comes and goes anymore. But you’ve come, and you’re not going anywhere. After everything you’ve done to get him like this? He deserves more than that.
You tell him that you might be assigned to another company, and John laughs in your face. It’s mean and sharp, uncharacteristic for your relationship with him.
Why do you think you can go?
Neither of you know how the conversation ended up with his hand almost crushing your jaw, but you just brush his cheek. You realize in that moment, he’s only ever known how to get his way doing one thing. It usually ends in blood, him always wanting more. So you just brush his cheek and smile with a light sigh.
“You’re not going to hurt me, and I’m not going anywhere - not when I’ve got my best friend right here.”
John laughs, disbelief and anger settling. He could crush your hand in that moment, so small and fragile that he would love breaking you.
But you smile, and he knows he actually wouldn’t. That’s the only thing that gets him angry.
Your touch is so sweet that John leans into the soft palm of your hand, wanting. It’s you that needs this, reassurance - not him. You place a kiss on his neck, and there goes the night.
And every Wednesday, everyday after that night, he thinks about you - how he can’t hurt you. And if he can’t hurt you, then no one can.
Your smile and the way you hold yourself. How you laugh and have shit taste in music. How you can poke and push at him. How people wonder how your head hasn’t blown off yet.
Seriously, people see you play fight with the Homelander, playfully insulting him and prodding and you aren’t a bag of guts and bone. How? How John doesn’t even punish you when you two are alone together, ridiculous really.
You call him John so sweetly that he should feel sick, but he feels something even worse - he feels like a man. Only a man. He smiles like it’s instinct and he almost fucking begs to say it again.
There you go, making a mess out of him.
There’s a mess on the company floor. It’s red and smells like copper and meat. It’s some man who tried hitting on you, some fucking suit. But it’s okay, cause John was there to save you.
He takes you up to his apartment and you’re still crying. He doesn’t understand why. It would be annoying in any other moment, but it’s the way you sniffle that makes John crack. He doesn’t like you like this. Where’s the smile? Where’s you?
He doesn’t understand, and you don’t know what you’ve gotten yourself into.
But he knows how to make you feel better. He plays copycat - because you always know how to make him feel better, don’t you? It’s what you do best.
He’s so fucking whipped that he can’t see you’re scared. But hey, maybe you’re not. Because he places the sweetest kiss on your neck, and you don’t have to wonder why this is what ruined him in the place.
The kisses make there way up, warming your jaw, his gloved hands go to caress your chin, but then John remembers how you said you didn’t like the feeling of them. So they slip off, end up on the table. It’s his hands holding your face, you lean in every which way.
His tongue slips into your mouth, teeth cold and you’re so warm and small that somewhere else he would want to break you. Crack all the pretty parts of you. Fuck, he really doesn’t get it.
He wants you safe, healthy. Here. You have no reason to go anywhere anymore. Not when he’s become so nice.
Your hips buck into him and John loves it - the need. He needs it, he needs more. You moan so slightly against his mouth and it’s like every other night, except this time, he’s taking care of you.
His hands clutch your shoulders, keeping you in place as his lips keep pressing into yours. You hum, approving. The buzz against his chin and your hands go to undo his belt.
A tear falls, and John licks it away. Salt and your spit and your perfectly fragile hands around his cock. He places you sprawled across the table, knees apart and up. You tearful, but smiling. There’s his girl.
Your hands are still on his dick, moving in a gentle rhythm and pleasure shoots through John. How could you want anything more than this? How could anyone thing you could want more than him?
He pushes your underwear to the side, your pretty pussy already so wet for him. He slides his middle and ring finger up and down, hand glistening with you. It’s so fucking beautiful.
He’s never wanted to make someone feel better, but when you’re mewling with small, quick breaths - how could he be made for anything else? Fucking ridiculous.
His fingers slip into you so easily that John wants to laugh, but his ears only here your slight moans. You continue to jerk off his dick as best you can, in your fragile, perfect state. He fingers you, you’re so tight - you clench and John knows you were made for him.
“It’s okay, pretty girl. You’ve been doing so good, haven’t you?”
You nod carelessly, already so drunk - from his fingers alone. Your thumbs slide over his slit and John almost jolts.
He wants to make you feel better, but how can he help himself? Your fault, really.
He lowers close, his nose to yours. You’ve got your eyes closed and John hates it, as pretty and needy as you look. He wants you to see when he takes you. He’ll be so good that you’ll have to stay forever.
“Open your eyes.”
You do, cause you know not to deny him, and even if you didn’t - it’s routine at this point.
He lowers into you, thrusting slowly as you moan so lightly. You’re always so tight that one day, John will want to break you. Not today, though. Not when you’ve been so good for him.
John continues to thrust as you clench around his cock, you grab onto his biceps for a good hold and he praises you, because good girl - using what you need. Using him.
Your fingers try digging into his skin - and what would be pain makes him fuzzy and John snakes his arms around your back, pulling up to sit on him.
Your chest is to his as you try to bounce as you’ve done before - but John holds you still. You don’t need to do anything. He thrusts up into you, the bulge of himself moving through you so quick but so…close. You moan and you’ve got your arms around his shoulders. You curl into him, as you should. There’s nowhere else to be.
“I’ll do anything for you.” John says it with a low breath, because he would.
And he will. You know he will, he’s going to. You don’t plan on stopping him.
You pull on his hair, hands moving through the back of his scalp as you become the perfect cock sleeve. Your hands are so warm that John thrusts even harder because it’s the nerves. You squeak, almost.
God, there isn’t one - but he’ll keep you forever.
Your entire body jerks and twitch as your hold tightens - you breath so weakly, but quick that you’ve came on him. John feels you twitch against him and on his cock. The heat of your tight cunt molding into him. He thrusts again, he can’t help himself.
Your hands make their way to the top of his chest, knuckles making small fists right below his neck, the top of your head on his jaw.
This picture is so perfect. John cums, he feels it up against the hilt. He thrusts again, just to make sure his cum stays where it’s supposed to be.
He leaves a long kiss on your hair.
“I’ll do anything you want me to, too.” You whisper. You’re still on his dick.
Then a thought occurs, something John deserves.
“If I keep you like this?”
You wiggle and John’s cock twitches inside you. He can hear your heartbeat, so little and quick and he can feel you smile against his chest. He returns it.
Look what you do to him.
“You like that idea, don’t you?”
You don’t nod or whisper a small yes, you just press your face into him. That’s a good enough answer for John.
But no wasn’t an a option, it never was. That’s okay for you. When you’ve got him like this? He’ll never hurt you. Even with the blood still splattered on you, it’ll never be yours.
And John will never let you go anywhere. After this? He’ll never understand why you would want to leave - not after what he’s done for you, not after all he’ll do for you.
He’ll never understand that is exactly what makes him a monster, a killer.
You twitch against his cock, and he can feel himself harden again. Needy thing, aren’t you?
You push yourself up on him, sliding down with a pretty breath against his chest.
just imagine how angry homelander would get if people asked his girl about her sex life with him..
Best Things - NSFW
———————————————————————
It would be hellfire.
I feel like John was super prideful about showing you off to the world in the earlier times when you two first went public - but then he realizes he has to share. I can imagine the idea of you two going public was actually his idea, something you were just hesitant on as a nonsupe and he just got so petty and suspicious because that definitely instilled a hot insecurity that you’re ashamed of him.
So, of course, you two go public and it’s heaven. He gets to be so proud of his pretty little girl while everyone sees the love you have for him and only him. It’s interviews and magazines covers and it’s great for the supe because everybody knows who you belong to and that there is proof that he’s fucking loved.
Of course, until people start loving you - and getting too fucking personal.
Suddenly your boy is huffing with arms crossed as you sign autographs and laugh and smile your fucking teeth at all these cocksuckers. And honestly, he thinks you’re doing way too much for the fans, almost like you need their love more than his. Like the love he has for you isn’t enough or something.
John doesn’t know it, but it makes him pout. If there isn’t pure red, he’s probably pouting, waiting for you to prove him wrong - even though he’s never wrong. But he’ll still lean into your kisses.
The last fucking straw for the guy, though, is a question.
His little girl always gets dumbass questions from dumbass lowlives. It’ll never not want to make John pop someone’s eyes out, but restrains himself because he’s that good of a boyfriend.
But he’s all the way on the other side of the street of fans while you’re off all smiley on the other side. Of course, though, the shrill voice of a fan to you catches his ear.
“So, how’s the sex life with an actual superhero?”
John hears snickering and his sweet girl with stutters. He hears his own heart picking up and he can’t fucking believe. Fucking nobodies - who the hell do they think they are?
“Oh, I don’t-that’s a lot in question.”
Why are you such a pushover? Tell them to fuck off.
“I bet it’s a lot in general. It’s gotta be the best thing about you two, right?”
And that’s where John is at your side in a beat. It’s his own smiles as his voice booms with a sudden announcement that you two will be off - and with a grip too tight on your waist, you’re both off into the air - and you know.
You know when your boy’s lips are pulled thin and there’s heavy breathing. You want to tell him to do those breathing exercises you make him do, but you know it’s pointless.
(John thinks it utterly fucking stupid, but he only does it because it amuses him how happy you are when you see him “calm down.”, it’s not like the slow of his heartbeat means anything when he does them.)
He turns and there’s that crinkle of his glove. There’s no kisses when he pushes you down to the couch by the neck. There never is because it’s hard for John to be needy while angry without getting embarrassed.
The dress that’s too fucking short pulls up quickly and there’s already heavy breaths from you. A mimic that John holds between his gloves.
“You should’ve told them to fuck off, kitten.”
Not kitten.
Right now, you know you could go sweet and maternal with soft kisses that’ll trail down to his skin - but you’re too tired from all the meet and greets and you want it hard from your boy.
“John, I’m sorry.”
He scoffs into your mouth as his knees pushes on your crotch. He nudges against your pussy and there’s a little mewl from you. He almost loosens his grip on the arm that tries to reach for his face.
“You should be thankful I didn’t kill the bitch.”
“I am. I am, John.” It’s a soft moan where your boy puts a finger to your clit hard. He removes the glove in a quick moment before his finger is down there again - and you’re already wet.
John was already ready to fuck you into sweet pain, but the way your clit gets swollen so fast brings the blood hot. With the other hand, there’s a hard grip to your breast, he pushes your tit up as you give him a sweet moan.
Of course you like this. You’re his little brat - it can never be punishment for you. The only punishment you don’t enjoy is when he drops you while flying. But he fucks you so sweet then.
John stares into your sweet face, eyes closed and clit swollen. He looks down to your tit and swallows. Fuck. Fuck all of this.
The best thing out of you two? Fuck that bitch, but it’s a pretty close second.
His pointer finger brushes over the nipple as he begins to make circles on your little clit. He slips another finger into your pussy as he goes down to suck.
It’s hard, there’s almost a bite. Your semi-pantied pussy, wet and finger-fucked, is not enough for you to ignore the pain.
“John!”
He looks up, mouth still on your nipple.
“Soft, baby. Please.”
John looks into the sweet little mouth of yours and fuck. He feels calm crawling in. It’s fucking embarrassing how quick the anger fades to get you to soften.
“Sorry.” John’s tongue swirls around the nipple to sooth. The finger picks up the pace and you’re always so tight that it would be painful with he was weak.
Your moans and mewls bring the calm to John’s chest. There’s no longer red - just you and it would make him angry if he cared. He doesn’t care anymore. He just sucks on your breast and John gets lost - you can see it in your boys eyes. You can see him suddenly…get weak. If that’s what you can call it.
No, he’s thinking. And what a mess that’ll be.
The finger inside your pussy slows to a stop. You almost put your hands down there to guide him, but you see John pop his mouth off your nipple. There’s a glossy mouth as he almost flops the side of his face into your breast. He removes the finger and lowers his weight onto you. His favorite cuddle position. You almost sigh, but you just bring your hand to the other side of his face.
You brush against his cheek.
“John?”
There’s a sniffle.
“Baby?”
There’s no sigh.
“Is this the best thing about us?”
“Huh, baby?”
The weight of John’s head grows heavy. “The fucking sex, is that really the best thing?”
You sniffle. No, you guess.
“I don’t know, John. Would that be a problem?”
“It is the best thing, but all of it is.”
“Yeah.”
There’s a moment where you see your boys eyes shift, and then he lifts his head up towards you, chin on skin.
“What’s the other thing?”
You know exactly what to do now. There’s never a moment where you’re not working, you love it.
“The other thing?”
“The other things. About me.”
You run your hand over his hair. “You, John? Everything.”
He scoffs. “Besides my fucking dick.”
There’s a small laugh where John squeezes your thigh.
“Your hair.” You give the blond a little tug. “Your eyes.”
It’s said with a smile, but John furrows his brows and pulls his lips thin.
“Those-“ He inhales hard. “Those are just fucking things.”
His swallow is like a punch.
Oh, your poor baby.
“Aw, John - baby, come here, sweet boy.”
You pull him up, his head on your shoulders. It’s always so easy and you know John will kill you if he ever sees this as a weakness. Or worse, he’ll hide you forever.
“I love your laugh. Your real laugh.” You continue to play with his hair as you feel his thin lips on your neck - not kissing. “I love how you always find ways for dates even when you’re busy.”
John’s hand finds it’s way to your unsucked breast. He holds it gentle in an open palm.
You sigh light. “I love how strong you are - and I don’t mean your powers. You’re my strong boy. And that’s the best thing.”
There’s an instant squeeze to your breast. You don’t think it sexual, because John seems so focus on your answer that he might not be thinking about anything else.
There’s another sniffle.
“Okay.”
And your boy’s okay. He’ll be proud of himself soon enough.
You seem him look down to your sucked nipple, and you tug on his hair slow. You feel the hardness of his dick in your thigh.
“What’s the best thing about me, besides the best things?”
With another squeeze to one breast, and before going to suck on the other, you know John’s back to John, as always.
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