Major Buir (Plo Koon X Reader)

18+ DOM DEADPOOL X M!READER

Thinking about WADE WILSON trapping you in his grasp, his masked chin perched on your shoulder and his blood-tinted leather glove shoved in-between your thighs. He reeks of impending doom, the scent combining with his natural aroma.

“Oh, no, no, don’t run from it, pretty boy.” WADE clicks his tongue, shaking his head as you squirm. His arm snaking around your waist tightened its grip, clutching you firmly against his front.

He sneaks his hand beneath your pants, wrapping it around the base of your hard cock before freeing it from your boxers. But he doesn’t allow the cool air to hit your sensitive hardness, choosing to toy with you by keeping it hidden under your shirt. You grunt, reaching to hold onto his knees. “W—wade.” You croak, trying not to buck your hips up.

WADE hums curiously, indicating that he was listening. With one finger, he maps out the silhouette of your length through the soft material. He’s enjoying this, and that fact is one he isn’t afraid to admit. “Hmm? D’ya want somethin’, baby?”

Despite his question, he doesn’t quite let you answer. Suddenly, his thumb presses down against the side of your tip, staring in great awe at how pre-cum begins to dampen the fabric. Your dick twitches from the stimulation, and you can’t prevent the plea from leaving you. “Stop teasin’ me, please.”

You can nearly feel his lips stretch upwards into a cocky grin. His palm rests flat on your length, gently rubbing up and down. Every time WADE’S finger went to messily massage your frenulum, your shirt would press into your skin and increase your responsiveness, making you uncontrollably throb. “Awww, we both know you don’t mean that. Our buddy over here likes it.” He teases, shifting to properly but lazily jerk you off.

His hand clenches when it curls ‘round your shaft, balancing you on the point of experiencing a high but never enough for you to actually reach it. WADE WILSON knows you can handle a tad of edging. “Be a good boy, c’mon that’s it, just a liiiiiiil’ bit more.”

Sometimes a family is a Survey Corps captain, a professor, an amnesiac warden and the danger-prone child, who also has no memory and fell from the sky.

Companion piece to this

May the Force be with you

HAPPY STAR WARS DAY May the Force be with you, always.

Tender Times

⚠18+ [Suggestive] Themes, [Frank Castle × Male Reader × Matt Murdock]

Minors, Ageless/Blank Blogs DNI

﹂Contains: Requested*, polygamous/throuple, two subs one top, domestic life, mentions of blood, fluff with a dash of spice

First thing in the morning a freshly brewed cup of coffee to jumpstart the day, followed by a pair of arms circling him from behind.

Matt's taken to getting up a few minutes earlier to spend them with you. Most of the times being when he ends up crashing at your place rather than his, he sometimes tends to oversleep after his nightly escapades.

Some nights he doesn't get much sleep with how you keep him up. He can still feel the lingering touches on his skin— the smell of you surrounding him, driving him crazy with desire.

If he didn't need to work today, he's sure he would have already dragged you back into bed. Let you have your way with him until all his senses were overwhelmed.

There's already a fresh set of clothes waiting for him, you help him get dressed— despite knowing he's fully capable. You just use it as an excuse to keep your hands on him for a few moments more before he has to head out for work.

"Want me to drop by for lunch?" Foggy and Kate have seen you before, though they're not entirely sure what your relationship with Matt is. They speculate that you're an old friend, one before his college days where he studied law with Foggy. It's not far off but there's more than meets the eye.

"We have a full schedule. So maybe dinner would be better?" He doesn't mind eating later than usual, as long as he gets to share a meal with you in the end. "Alright, go on and get to work then, Matty."

You obviously don't buy his whole blind act anymore since he's much too aware of his surroundings— that and you found out his little secret after a slip up. So you know more than you let on.

The side of his mouth lifts into a smile, "I'll be careful, don't worry." He steals a kiss, purposely missing your cheek and landing it on your lips.

You see him off with a small smile of your own, watching how his form blends into the bustle and hustle of the overcrowded city. It's not even half and hour before you hear a loud crash from the backdoor.

"Ah, look at you all bloody and bruised again, Frank." While it's become more often than usual, you don't turn him away or scold him too harshly. "It's not even Tuesday yet."

He doesn't even respond, just grunts and plops down onto a chair. His muscles are tense that much you can discern right away— other than the scattered scrapes and bruisings.

With a quiet sigh and a trip to the restroom for the kit, you place it down nearby and start working on his injuries. It's times likes these remind you of how vulnerable he truly is.

The subtle longing in his eyes as he leans into your hands as they disinfect a small cut on his cheek. Lips slightly parted when you ever-so-gently thumb his busted lip with a dollop of salve. He's gone soft on you. Hardly glares or bites at you for tending to him like this.

Once it's all said and done he looks up at you expectantly— lips quirked into a sly grin. Frank knows you're not going to chastise him like Matt does, he simply waits for his little reward as you lean down to kiss his wounded lips. However, it never comes which makes him frown.

Just as he was going to make a complaint there's a knock at the door— there goes his alone time with you.

As if.

His hand shoots out to grasp your wrist and tugs you down to him. "It's probably just the neighbor asking for sugar again," he mutters with a huff, face inches from your shoulder. "You're going to stay, right?" That sounded less like a question and more like a demand— a plea.

You keep him grounded, keep his ducks in a row so he doesn't go out and spill more blood. He is, still after all, a wanted man under the eyes of the law. It's your job now to stop him from getting into anymore problems.

And Frank knew you'd give in, the palms of your hands cradling his beaten face was conformation enough to know. Cheeky, you'd call him if he wasn't so coy.

Seems like you'll have to reschedule any errands you had planned. You're going to have your hands full keeping the Punisher entertained— and he's more than excited to have you all to himself.

Tocka-irbis © 2025 —Please -do not steal, translate, modify, repost on other platforms.

we’ve all watched the scene of logan putting out the cigar on himself and it got me thinking about him with a reader whose mutation allows them to burn people. (he’s such a freak i need him).

-

he’s a squirming, whimpering mess underneath you. such a gorgeous sight, and one that only you get to witness - the big, bad wolverine turned into a moaning mess through the use of your power, completely at your mercy, his hands tied so he couldn’t fight you off even if he’d wanted to (not that he ever would).

you were anxious to try this. your power wasn’t one that could be used for good. it only ever caused pain, suffering, family and friends leaving you once it had manifested, spitting out words that felt like venom. you burn people when you touch them, like fire licking over their skin, making them cry and scream and beg for mercy. 

you have gloves of every colour of the rainbow, an array of different fabrics and patterns and textures, pairing them with your outfit every day. you hate touching people, hate hurting them.

but logan has a thing for pain. he’d admitted it to you, under the cover of a dark and cloudy sky, when you’d asked him how he could possibly stand to be with you when you’d never be able to touch him, never be able to kiss him without hurting him.

he’d begged you, actually begged you to touch him, to burn him, to hurt him.

for the first time ever you can touch someone without a layer of fabric in between. you can drag your fingers along his thighs and watch the red burn marks it leaves behind, watch the colour fade and the texture smooth over as his body heals itself. it’s like he was made for you, a perfect match, both with cracked and broken edges, but somehow you fit.

“fuckin’ touch me,” he spits, “c’mon.”

“i am touching you,” you reply, pressing your hand down onto his hairy chest. his skin is warm, slightly damp from a thin layer of sweat, alive and real. he cries out, but it’s not the sound you’re used to hearing when you touch people. it’s a whine, higher than you thought his voice could go, pain and pleasure mixing into something he hadn’t been able to describe to you in words.

“y’know what i mean,” he pants. you just smile, serene. you’re not teasing him on purpose, though you must admit it’s certainly entertaining to watch him fall apart, rather you’re taking the opportunity you thought you’d never get, exploring your lover's body with your touch, breathless at the feeling of skin against skin.

you finally grab his cock, feeling the thick, warm weight of it in your hand. you can feel the telltale buzzing under your skin, the sign that your powers are burning him, but he doesn’t try to pull away from you. rather, his hips jerk up, chasing more of the feeling. a bead of precum pearls at the tip, and you rub it down his shaft.

“you actually like this,” you muse, “you’re such a freak.”

the degrading comment only makes him groan, rutting his hips up to fuck into your fist. and he’s just so pretty, so lovely when he’s desperate, so as much as you want to play with him, spend hours making him beg, you don’t. because you need to see what he looks like when he’s falling apart.

you jerk him off slow, never letting the pressure relent. it’s a fight with your instincts, your mind telling you to let go before you hurt him, before he decides that he doesn’t actually like this, before he leaves like everyone else. but he heals as fast as you burn him, again and again.

you watch his face instead of your hand, focusing on the way his lips part with each sound he makes, the pleasure contorting his expression. he gets louder, warnings filling the space between you, and then his hips stutter, faltering, and you watch his eyes roll back as he cums, shooting thick ropes of white all over his own chest.

your eyes widen slightly at how quickly you’d made him cum, but he’s already hardening again in your hand, chasing the pleasure of his orgasm even as it fades.

“do it again,” he orders, though really he’s in no position to be making demands. still, you oblige, because it feels good to be able to hurt him and know he’ll always come back. you could definitely get used to this, and isn’t that a terrifying thought.

ANAKIN / VADER - AHSOKA 1x05 THE SHADOW WARRIOR

Insatiable + Viktor

Synopsis. You bring Viktor home from a long day in the lab. He wakes up and finds himself needing you.

A/n. No specified gender/genitalia of reader.

Viktor ignored the small voice in his head that tried to tell him to go home. “Just a few more minutes,” he murmured aloud. His fingers tinkered with the project in front of him.

“What’d you say?”

Viktor whipped around to see your lanky build leaning against a desk. He relaxed as you tilted your head with your familiar smile. “I- I missed you, my darling,” he whispered, rising to his feet. He hobbled into your arms and felt his weight sag against you. “I didn’t realize how tired I am.”

You shushed him and carded your finger through his hair. “I’ve been telling you, V. You need to care for yourself,” you coo into his ear. He relaxes completely, leaving you steady on your feet with his freakishly tall body in your arms. “But I admit, I love taking care of you.”

Viktor exhaled shakily. “Y/n?”

You hum.

He nuzzles his face into your neck and breathes in your scent. “Will you take me home?”

“Of course, my love.”

It’s the middle of the night when Viktor wakes, arms latched onto your strong form. Visions of the dream previously flickering behind his eyelids make him pant heavily as he looks down to see his pelvis grinding down  between your legs.

“Fuck,” he croaks, wrapping his arms around your neck as he degrades himself for taking advantage of you while you slept. “I’m sorry, my lover.”

Viktor’s hips move slightly fast as your hands unconsciously grip Viltor’s waist. “Y/n, please.”

You blink awake. Viktor’s pathetic humping had been the actions to wake you instead of his quiet pleads. “You’re so needy,” you inform him wryly. Your head fell back to the pillow under you. “I can’t even sleep without-“

“Y/n, I need you,” Viktor pleads, leaving kisses from your exposed neck all the way up to your eyelids. “Please give me what I need.”

Viktor’s hips stutter. His breath catches in his throat as your hands trace down his back to squeeze his ass. “You have me right here, Vik. Take what you need,” you coo in his ear.

At your breathy words, Viktor whines as he pistons his hips down. “Ple-Please y/n,” he whimpers. “Talk to me, tell me- tell me I’m yours.” 

You look at the famous, world-renowned scientist in front of you and wonder how you were blessed with the ability to turn him into the pitiful, whining, horny man in front of you. “You need my voice, is that it? I love how much you need me Viktor… I love you, Viktor.” He smothers a particularly loud groan by shoving his face into your shoulder. “Oh, you like that, don’t you? You don’t need to tell me, V. I know what my good boy likes.”

Just to tease him, you buck your hips up to grind onto his core. “Y/n!” He cries out, chasing your heat. “Fuck,” he whines.

“So reactive,” you murmur absently. “You’re doing so well, Viktor, so good for me.”

“Please, y/n, I need you. I ca-I can’t cum without you.” Tears leak from his eyes as his movements turn jerky and desperate. “Help me, please.”

You click your tongue. “Oh, Vik. This is how I feel when you’re off in your lab every day and every night. I’m showing you mercy by just being here, my love,” you tell him. “If you make yourself cum right now, I promise I’ll fuck you so good you won’t know any other words than thank you,” you coo. He sinks his teeth into your flesh as he gets closer to his orgasm.

“I’m going- I’m- y/n,” Viktor rambles as his hips unceasingly grind on you. “Y/n!”

His arms tighten around you as he spills his cum into his pants. Viktor is temporarily free from the pain in his leg as his legs twitch. “I love you,” Viktor slurs in your ear, feeling you roll on top of him. “I need more…”

You pull away from him to see how pretty he looks underneath you. The moon glinted in his eyes, and his list was evident in his gaze. As your nimble fingers unbuttoned his pants, you let him pull you back down to his lips in a lazy kiss. “Insatiable,” you chide when you pull away for air.

Viktor pulls your shirt off of your body. “I just crave you. In every way, all the time, unceasingly.”

You chuckle and grasp his chin. “I love you too, Viktor.”

shoutout to boring queer people who don’t do shit. just go to work or school and then come home to watch shows. while gay

"Good morning, peanut~💛"

a pain slut if i've ever seen one