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deathofacupid · 2 months ago

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꩜ CURSED ENERGY? NAH... CURSED DICK!

MY ANACONDA DON'T... — forget vanilla. with them, sex isn't just good, it's transcendent. it's not like there's room for improvement, but go big... or go home, right?

꩜ satoru gojo, suguru geto, kento nanami, choso kamo, toji fushiguro, ryomen sukuna.

warnings — áfab!reader. óverstimulatión, dégrading, dúmbification, sqúirting, breedíng. dóm!characters. bóndage (geto's). unprótected séx. blood (sukuna's). inappropriate use of cursed technique + jujutsu. lemme know if i missed anything! 3.2k+ words.

(呪術廻戦) : note — i think i've forgotten how to write fluff now </33 divider credits to @/cafekitsune !

꩜ SATORU GOJO

the way satoru finds that spot… it’s like he’s got a sixth sense for it, beyond even those eyes. the insistent grind of his hips, the precise angle his thick cock takes as it buries itself deeper. it’s a language your body understands entirely.

“satoru! fuck,” you gasp, head arching back against the worn headboard. it’s so good it borders on agony, a delicious overload that makes your vision swim.

“ah, shit, pretty,” he grunts, his voice roughened with lust. “you’re taking all of me. look at that, huh? so fucking tight.” each powerful thrust has the head of his cock slamming against that sensitive nub deep inside, a relentless pressure that steals the air from your lungs.

all that exists is him – the slick heat, the straining length, every vein and ridge a searing imprint against your slick, yielding flesh.

it’s unnerving, almost invasive, how intimately he seems to know your body, mapping its secrets with a casual expertise. and with those all-seeing eyes, it’s foolish to think he doesn’t.

a wave of dizziness washes over you, coherent thought dissolving into a haze of pure sensation. the faint throb of his teeth marks on your neck is a distant hum against the overwhelming now – the relentless pounding, the feeling of being stretched and filled beyond capacity with each savage push.

the bed-frame creaks in protest with every thrust, the small room thick with the wet, smacking sounds and the friction of skin against skin. the remnants of their last bout, his slick warmth, are still trapped inside, each subsequent invasion driving it further, staking a deeper claim.

he’s not just moaning; it’s the most pornographic thing you've yet to hear, the most obscenely beautiful sound you’ve ever heard. he's whining like a bitch in heat, really.

“no, d- don’t stop,” you plead, your inner muscles clenching instinctively, milking him with desperate urgency.

“mm, not gonna stop,” he bites out, leaning down to press a hard, possessive kiss to your swollen lips. “but you gotta try not to squeeze so damn hard, sweetheart. i might just lose it.”

a mumbled apology escapes your lips, barely intelligible. you’re right on the edge, that familiar release beckoning with dizzying speed. you never stood a chance against him.

never with the way he fucks you, zeroing in on that core of pleasure with an almost cruel precision.

a strangled cry tears from your throat, breath hitching in ragged gasps. “i’m—"

"—i know,” gojo grinds out, cutting you off, his own breath coming in short, sharp bursts. “fuck, me too.”

when he comes, it’s a violent shudder that consumes his entire body, thick ropes of his seed erupting deep inside you. he collapses against you, burying his face in the crook of your neck, riding out the tremors of your own shattering climax.

then, he pulls back slightly, those piercing blue eyes locking onto yours, raw and unguarded. “you know,” he says, his voice still thick with the aftermath, a tenderness in his gaze, “i think we should get married.”

꩜ SUGURU GETO

veiny, thick tendrils of cursed energy snake around you, binding your wrists to the cold metal of the bedposts. they pulse with a subtle, unsettling warmth, a living restraint.

you don't even bother to struggle; experience has taught you the futility. instead, you brace yourself, a strange mix of resignation and fierce anticipation settling in your gut for whatever suguru is willing to give.

the cursed energy is as unyielding as any rope, maybe even tighter. you can already feel the pressure points, the faint burn that promises bruises blooming beneath your skin in the morning.

a small price, you think, a ridiculously small price to pay for the brain-scrambling, mind-numbing oblivion he can deliver.

a very, very small price indeed.

"what a good girl," he purrs, his breath ghosting across your face as he peppers light, almost clinical kisses across your forehead and cheeks. "thought for sure that little whimper earlier meant you were about to tap out."

you huff, the sound catching in your throat and breaking into a shaky whimper despite yourself. "i— i can handle it," you insist, squeezing your eyes shut against the onslaught of sensation already building. maybe focusing on your breathing will help. just a little.

geto clicks his tongue, a sound that vibrates with amusement. "i have no doubt." you can't decipher if it's genuine or laced with his usual condescension. he has a habit of that, a detached superiority that somehow only amplifies the raw intimacy of his fucking.

if your mind isn't already a hazy mess, you might ask him if he even realizes he's doing it. actually, no, you wouldn't. you like it.

"think you can even take some more?" he's baiting you, you know it. everything with suguru is a subtle power play, a quiet competition. it's the same for you, a bad coincidence, you'd said. him? he voiced it as "being made for each other."

"y— yes, fuck!" the word is a desperate gasp as his thick cock slams into you, a raw, visceral connection that steals your breath. his hand slides down, fingers grazing against your slick folds, teasing the swollen nub of your clit. always the deliberate tormentor.

you want to tangle your fingers in the silky length of his hair, to pull him closer, but the pulsing restraints hold you captive. a frustrating, exquisite helplessness.

"cute lil' pussy," he chuckles, his voice a low rumble that vibrates against your ear. does he even realize how devastatingly beautiful he looks in moments like these?

his long, dark hair cascading around his face like a fallen angel, a sex-driven, lust-fueled angel bathed in the dim light.

he bucks his hips, a deep, guttural sound escaping his throat as he drives into you. your slick, aching hole does its desperate best to accommodate his size, that initial stretch always taking a painful, exquisite moment. by the time you adjust, he is already impatient, fucking you with a controlled ferocity that borders on brutal.

but you can never stay truly upset with him when it comes to this. he just… thrusts the discomfort away, slamming into your wet heat with a possessive intensity that drowns out everything else.

"sugu— 'm really close," you inhale, sharply, the words broken by a sharp intake of breath.

"yeah, princess?" he murmurs, his voice softening slightly, a flicker of something akin to tenderness in his dark eyes. "can feel you."

he finishes soon after, a series of deep, shuddering thrusts that wrack his body. but not before he ensures you follow, his fingers relentless on your clit until you cry out, your own release a messy, shuddering wave.

within a blink, the pulsing tendrils of cursed energy dissolve, leaving behind only the faint red marks on your wrists. he leans down, pressing a soft kiss to the irritated skin, a smug wink flashing in his eyes.

꩜ KENTO NANAMI

nanami's great at sex. always has been. you didn't even think the guy could get better at it. and yet, here he is, showing you just how much more mind-numbingly good he can be.

with those long, surprisingly gentle fingers, he's got your jaw cupped, his thumb stroking your cheek as he murmurs, "can you feel me, darling?"

it's a stupid question, obviously you can feel him. every ridge and vein of his thick cock is pressed against your tight cunt, and you've never felt this stretched, you swear.

nanami just adores how your mouth falls open, your brows all scrunched up in that adorable little frown as his fat tip hits your sweet spot. his other hand slides down to your belly, pressing just lightly, like he's staking his claim. he's prideful, is what he is.

his thrusts are so controlled, so damn rhythmic it's almost hypnotic. every movement has a purpose, a precise intention. there's nothing sloppy or senseless about the way he's fucking you. it's like he's engineered your orgasm.

"oh, fuck," you gasp, your fingers digging into the solid muscle of his back, trying to hold on as the pleasure threatens to swallow you whole.

"feels good, no?" he asks, his intense gaze locked on your face. honestly, you wouldn't have pegged him as the type to need his ego stroked, but the look in his eyes says otherwise.

you want to answer him, but your eyes roll back in your head, and you're practically useless, just a whimpering mess under his ministrations.

nanami lets out this low chuckle, pressing a wet, sloppy kiss to your forehead. the bastard knows exactly what he's doing to you.

you can feel that 7:3 ratio thing he probably has going on in his head, even if he's not consciously counting. seven deliberate slides in, each one stretching you further, followed by three slightly shallower, teasing movements that keep you right on the edge.

your breath hitches in your throat, and you drag your nails down his solid back, leaving little trails of sensation. "i- i can't…" nanami just ignores your incoherent mumbles, because he knows you don't even know what you're trying to say. you're just strung out on the feel of him.

the slams of his hips against yours get a little less controlled, a little more urgent, but still with that underlying precision that's so distinctly him. you can feel the tension coiling in him, like a tightly wound spring about to snap.

"oh, love, i can feel – fuck – you clenching around me," he grunts, rutting his cock deeper into you. you're desperate for the release that's building, every muscle in your body contracting as you moan and whimper.

nanami lets out a low groan, his usual composed mask finally cracking as he follows you over the edge. his movements keep up, a little less methodical now, until he's shuddering against you, filling you with his hot, precise load.

he finally stills, resting his forehead against yours, his breathing a little ragged. "god, i love you," he murmurs, a rare hint of pure satisfaction in his voice.

seven minutes (and three seconds) in heaven.

꩜ CHOSO KAMO

choso's stamina isn't just a flex; it's a goddamn superpower. the kind that leaves you wondering if he has some extra hearts tucked away somewhere. "monster-like" feels polite; "relentless" is closer to the truth. you're pretty sure your boyfriend can fuck through the apocalypse and still ask for another round.

his face is buried deep between your tits, the wet heat of his mouth a brand against your skin. his moans are thick and muffled, vibrating against your chest as he rides you, each thrust a deep, insistent press.

hours blur into a sweaty, tangled mess of limbs and desperate gasps. the digital clock on your nightstand glows a mocking 2:47 a.m. you feel like you've been wrung out and hung to dry, utterly, deliciously drained. meanwhile, choso looks like he's just finished his warm-up.

"ngh, baby," he groans, his voice thick with need. "i'm… fuck, i'm gonna cum." you've lost count of his "gonna comes" hours ago, each one a lie that somehow still manages to feel good in the moment. your own orgasms have been a dizzying parade, each one pulling another ragged whimper from your throat.

"oh, choso…" you whimper, your back arching instinctively as he hits that sweet spot. your fingers tangle in his loose, messy hair – those ridiculous space-buns have long since surrendered to the friction. you're probably pulling too hard, but the only sound he makes is a deeper groan of pleasure.

a shaky sob escapes you. "i… god, i can't." your muscles are screaming, every nerve ending raw and overstimulated.

"s— sure you can," he breathes, his lips trailing wet kisses up your neck. "last… last one, i promise." his voice is husky, laced with a desperate edge that almost sounds believable.

except, choso is a liar when he's this deep inside you. the second his hot load pulses into you, you can feel him twitch, his cock hardening again with infuriating speed.

and yeah, you love his blood manipulation, you really do. knowing it keeps him safe out there, facing whatever cursed shit he has to deal with — that's everything.

but this? using it to recycle his blood, straight from his balls to his dick, so he doesn't "waste time" getting hard again? you want to argue that the downtime is the only thing keeping you from dissolving into a puddle of pure sensation. the break is essential.

you need it like you need air.

"choso, please," you hiccup, a pathetic little sound.

"please what, baby?" he mumbles, finally lifting his head to press soft, wet kisses to your tear-streaked face. "please, more?" his eyes are dark and hungry, pupils blown wide.

"no! no… not more," you murmur, squeezing your eyes shut against the fresh wave of sensation building in your core. you can feel another orgasm clawing its way closer, and the traitorous part of you, the part that is addicted to his touch, actually wants it.

he barely waits a breath after his last shuddering release before plunging back into you, his movements insistent and demanding. "oh, but you're doing so good," he insists, his words broken by ragged gasps.

"this is it, okay? j— just this last one, baby." he sounds like he's begging now, his voice thick with desperation, and in your hazy, pleasure-addled state, you almost believe him.

but then you are coming again, that familiar, overwhelming rush consuming you, and he is coming too, his body bucking against yours, and… he is a goddamn beautiful, stamina-blessed liar.

꩜ TOJI FUSHIGURO

yeah, toji doesn't have some fancy cursed technique to whip out in bed. so what? you think that ever stops him from getting exactly what he wants?

hell, no. the dude might be a deadbeat dad and a general pain in the ass, but when he commits to something – and he's definitely committed to you – he goes all the way. a real thorough bastard, that one.

right now, he has you locked in this brutal-as-hell mating press. your knees are practically glued to his sides, and his arms are like iron, squeezing you so tight you can feel his damn heartbeat against your own.

his fingers aren't just holding on; they're digging in, promising a nice little collection of bruises for you to discover later. a reminder, you figure.

his thick cock is stretching you open, filling you up in a way that makes your vision blur and your head spin. "you're a goddamn slut, you know that?" he grunts out between these rough, possessive kisses that leave your lips swollen.

"tell me," toji breathes, his hot breath ghosting over your ear, sending shivers down your spine despite the heat building between your legs. "you know what you are."

your head flops back, heavy and useless. all that matters is the feel of him buried so deep, the relentless back-and-forth stealing your breath and any semblance of thought.

you can taste blood where you're biting your lip, but the pain is just a background hum to the overwhelming pleasure.

"a… slut," you manage to choke out, the word sounding needy and desperate, already begging for the next brutal slide.

toji lets out this low groan that vibrates right through you, a sound that screams you're mine. his grip tightens even more, his thumbs now pressing hard into the slick, tender flesh of your inner thighs, spreading you wider, making him feel impossibly deep. it's almost violent, the way he handles you, but every rough touch sends these crazy sparks of sensation shooting through you.

he pulls back just enough to lock his dark, intense gaze on yours, and you can practically see the possessiveness burning in his eyes. "mine," he bites out, like it's the only truth in the universe. then, he slams back into you, and your nails dig into the hard muscle of his shoulders, clinging on for dear life.

the air's thick with your ragged gasps, the wet, slapping sound of your bodies grinding together, and you just know he's getting off on how tight you are, how you clench and tremble with each savage thrust.

one calloused hand leaves your side to roughly cup your breast, his thumb teasing your nipple until it's hard and aching. the other hand stays glued to the wet heat of your thigh.

"beg for it," he mutters, his voice low and rough, a total taunt.

a shaky cry escapes you, right on the edge of a sob. "please, toji, p— please…"

he lets out this low chuckle, a rumble against your ear. "yeah, yeah." and even though he acts like he doesn't give a shit half the time, he's always a sucker for you. the heat low in your belly coils tighter and tighter. your back arches, and you writhe against him, desperate for that release.

and when you finally come, it hits him just a few brutal seconds later. his hot load pumps into you, coating your insides, and toji groans, a deep, animalistic sound as you squeeze every last drop out of him.

"damn, ma," he breathes, his forehead pressed against yours, shoulders relaxing.

relaxing; only for a moment, because then you know the cycle will repeat.

꩜ RYOMEN SUKUNA

it's no surprise sukuna is rough. he's sukuna. taunting, malevolent, deliciously so. a razor's edge of threat underlies everything he utters, a constant hum of danger that can be playful or genuinely menacing. except in this space, beneath him, it is always, undeniably, intentional.

you are splayed out, limbs heavy and unresponsive, reduced to a whimpering, slick mess under his gaze. his crimson eyes, sharp and predatory, burn into yours, pinning you down more effectively than any physical restraint.

he trails a long finger down the inside of your thigh, the touch surprisingly light, yet you still flinch, a tremor running through you. a faint, red line blooms in its wake, almost imperceptible.

"feel that, flower?" he rumbles, his voice a low purr that vibrates through your bones. "better listen close, wouldn't want you ending up in little pieces."

you know, somewhere in the haze of arousal and fear, that it's a hollow threat. he wouldn't destroy what he so possessively claims. yet, the fear still coils in your gut, sharp and thrilling.

terrifying, yes, but you wouldn't have it any other way.

his thick cock stretches you open, every inch a deliberate invasion. you can feel the head press against something deep inside, a hard knot pushing so far in it creates a visible bulge in your lower belly. the slick heat of him fills you completely.

then comes the unsettling, wet sensation of a tongue, not from his mouth, but from lower down, sliding between your slick folds.

"'kuna— can't..." you whine, which he whole-heartedly disregards. it traces a path of hot, insistent licks, right up to your swollen clit, leaving a shimmering trail of his spit.

"what a messy girl, huh?" he rasps, his voice thick with the effort, as if you aren't completely consumed by the feeling of him inside you. your only response is a helpless groan that vibrates against his skin.

your eyes squeeze tighter, the pressure building again, that familiar knot of another orgasm clawing its way up. your inner muscles clench around his shaft, slicking him even further as you squirt onto his thick length, milking him with each involuntary spasm.

it isn't long before his own ragged breaths fill the air, his hips bucking against yours as he empties himself inside, filling you to the brim with hot, pulsing pleasure.

"maybe," he says against your ear, a low murmur, "if you're lucky, next time i'll let you take both."

❛ all works belong to deathofacupid, do not steal/plagiarize/repost. ❜

tagging jazz (@jeonwiixard) + mia (@mia-can-yap-too) cus they wifey <33

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cherrygirlfriend · 3 months ago

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touchy subject

pairing: reader x exfiancé!rafe synopsis: reader seeing her ex-fiancé after four years. warnings: angst, some fluff, mentions of a miscarriage, just pure agony! wc: 1.8k inspired by the song 'touchy subject' by peach prc. originally posted 11/21/2024

part II & part III

a white baby gate fixed in my hallway stays haunting the house with the angels we made; sometimes, i dream, a decade away, we meet in a grocery store; you look the same, with just a few grey hairs. the blonde little girl who tugs on your shirt with your smile looks nothing like me.

it had been four years since you had last been on kildare island; four years of trying to forget the life, or the ruined bones of one, that you'd been escaping from.

after ending your engagement with your fiancé, you'd traveled all around the country in your beat-up truck, hoping to find a place where you'd belong; only to end up back in the outer banks. they say there's no place like home, and in a way, it was true. you can leave kildare island, but kildare island will never leave you.

"everything okay?"

you're startled out of your thoughts by the melodic sound of your mother's voice, and when she follows your gaze to the baby-gate attached to the door leading to the kitchen, her mouth twists into a frown. "i was meant to take that down before you got here..." she chewed on her lower lip, a pang of guilt almost punching her in the chest.

"it's fine." you shrug, trying to lift the ends of your lips into a smile, only for it to look artificial and rehearsed. "i should start unpacking."

"alright." your mother placed her hand on your shoulder, but should've been a comforting gesture, made you feel like you were underwater and the hand was simply pushing you deeper.

you stood alone in the living room of your apartment, the only thing to be heard of was the ticking of the clock your mother had already mounted on the clock, mixed in with the sounds of passing cars, so unlike the day you first moved into the apartment, yet so much like the day you were last there.

"you should keep the apartment."

"rafe, i can't do that. it's way too much, and i'm leaving-"

"it's already in your name." the man sighed, smoothing his hand over his shaved head; he looked so different than usual, the dark bags under his eyes making him look like he had aged ten years, his usually tan face almost pale. "you can do whatever you want with it. keep it, sell it, i don't care. it's yours. i never want to step foot in this place again."

your feet were almost moving on their own, the hardwood floor cold under your feet, leading you to that door, and even though you felt your blood run cold, every cell of your body telling you not to open it, you couldn't help but nudge the door open.

you didn't know what you were expecting.

stepping into the room, you let your hand trail over the soft-pink wall, still remembering the smell of paint.

"you know, you shouldn't be doing that." he sighed, leaning against the doorway. "i can just hire someone to paint the walls."

you roll your eyes, your denim overalls covered in the soft pink paint as the paint stained the white wall, "i want to do this. i'm not gonna hire someone to do everything for me when i'm perfectly fine doing it on my own."

"you're not-"

"hush." you pointed the paint roller at rafe, "i'm doing this. now pick up a paint roller or quit whining."

you look down at the crib, lined with white lace, picking up the brown teddy bear that used to belong to you when you were a child, brushing your hand over the fur, straightening the pink bow around its neck.

hung above the crib, was a picture of a couple that had just gotten engaged, wide smiles on both of their faces; a couple that had once been so familiar to you, but now, it was like you couldn't recognize either of the people in the photos.

it felt like everyone was staring at you as they walked past you; four years clearly hadn't been long enough to make the people of outer banks forget about you, and as you made your way towards the local cafe, you couldn't help but think about how long it'd take for the person you didn't want to know you were in town to find out.

you were strolling down the street, rafe's hand in yours, your fingers intertwined. you licked the ice cream cone, deep in thought, letting rafe take the lead.

"what's going through that pretty head of yours?" he chuckled softly, bringing your hand up to his lips, pressing a kiss to the back of it, your engagement ring glimmering under the sunlight.

"baby names." you shrug, "what should we name her?"

"do you have any names in mind?"

"i was thinking..." you pursed your lips, not sure if the name you had been considering would be appropriate or not, chewing on your lower lip as you turn your head to face your fiancé, an expectant smile on his lips and his brows lifted in question, "evelyn."

when the name left your lips, you saw his mouth fall open, and for a moment you thought that you never should've spoken, but after rafe cleared his throat, there was a clear smile on his lips, his blue eyes glassy.

"you- you uh, wanna name her after my mom?"

"yeah." you smile, squeezing his hand. "i do."

for the millionth night, you were laid in bed, looking through pictures, featuring the faces of the couple above the crib in the room next door. pictures with the man's arms wrapped around the woman's waist, ones of them holding hands, ones where one was pressing a kiss the other person's cheek, ones from the several midsummers parties they spent together, ones from halloween, thanksgiving, christmas...

the girl in the dress she had planned to wear on her wedding day.

"rafe, where are you taking me?" you laughed, the blindfold covering your eyes, "if the blindfold's for some kinky purpose, you better forget about it."

rafe laughed, continuing to lead you, his large hands on your waist, "come on, have a little faith in me. i'm not that bad, am i?"

"oh, you definitely are. just last week we were an hour late to ava's party because you just thought i was irresistible."

rafe snorted, "well, that's because you were." he pressed a kiss on your cheek, "you can take it off." he whispered, taking a step away from you.

untying the blindfold, you blinked a few times, letting yourself get used to actually being able to see again, only to be startled by the sight of your boyfriend on one knee in front of you, a small velvet box in his hand, "rafe...?"

you wiped away the stray tear that had left your eye without permission before it could reach your jaw, continuing to scroll through the pictures, knowing that it'd be yet another sleepless night, but when you saw a picture of her, you paused.

you weren't sure who was more nervous, you or rafe, even though you were the one in the examination chair, your shirt pulled up and your rounded stomach on full display. his hand was tightly gripping yours, the man's jaw clenched.

"let's take a look, shall we?" the ultrasound technician smiled, and you nodded, feeling her spread the cold gel onto your stomach, a slight yelp leaving your lips, making rafe squeeze your hand even tighter. you looked to him, nodding reassuringly, speaking softly, "it's okay."

rafe's grip loosened slightly and he softened his grip, both of you turning your heads to the screen, and the moment you saw the little lump on the screen, you couldn't help but feel tears stinging in your eyes.

"look. that's our baby."

"shit..." rafe stared at the screen wide-eyed, letting out a low breath, "that's our baby."

just like on any average day on the island, the sun was shining, your skin radiating with warmth as you walked down the street, looking in through shop windows; it had been a few days since you'd first stepped outside, and it seemed like your arrival had become widespread news, and you didn't receive as many stares as you did before.

you arrived at rafe's door, bringing your hand up and pounding on the door before you could stop yourself and chicken out for the third time that week. you were a wreck, unable to sleep, to think about anything other than how much you knew you needed to talk to rafe.

you waited, tapping your foot against the ground and biting down on your lip, when finally, the door slowly started opening, a small smile forming on rafe's lips when he realized that it was you.

"hey baby," he chuckled softly, placing his hands on your waist, "you miss me so much you couldn't even text me to let you know you were coming?" he grinned.

"i have to talk to you." you pull away from his embrace, taking his hands off your waist, the blonde looking down at you with furrowed brows, crossing his arms in front of his broad chest, clearly alarmed by the slight frown on your lips.

"what's wrong?"

"i'm pregnant."

without even realizing it, you had stopped in front of a jewelry store, gazing inside at the things on display as you were going down memory lane inside your head. you let out a small chuckle, about to step back and continue walking, when your blood ran cold, the smile fading away from your face, feeling as if someone had stabbed you in the heart.

to anyone else, it would've just been the backs of two random people. but even without seeing his face, you could recognize the only man you'd ever loved no matter where you went.

his short-sleeved white collared shirt was tucked into his dark jeans, riding up slightly as he ran a hand through his hair, having grown out slightly since the last time you'd seen it, his signet ring on his middle finger.

you saw him let out a chuckle, and you could almost picture how it'd sound, his hand going to rest on the back of the person he was with.

a younger woman smiled up at him, and even just from her side profile, you could tell that she was gorgeous, her flaming hair flowing over her shoulders, the smile on her face genuine, matching his.

and when you saw what she was holding up and showing to him, the knife in your chest was twisted.

an engagement ring.

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nonzino · 2 years ago

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if i hear the words offside one more time

#if you hear sounds of dying it was me btw #literally anything from shouts of pure agony to rat-like squeals #cfc

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rafesangelita · 5 months ago

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hmmm thinking abtt the !readers' fav positions w rafe

warnings: 18+ links (mdni!), unprotected sex, slight mentions of power play, rough sex, dirty talk, praise, dacryphilia, body praise, baby trapping threats, heavy petting, brat-taming, slight tit play, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, degradation, dumbification

₊˚⊹♡ bambi!reader

“deck chair” : your doe eyes peering up at him while he rocked into you was easily one of his favorite sights to see. you looked helpless and completely at his mercy— just the way he liked it. with your knees pressed into your chest, and his pubic bone flushed to your tummy, he was able to penetrate you deeply, his cock easily nudging your cervix with each thrust. in this position he was able to catch onto every cry, whimper, and moan of his name, your pretty sounds of pure unadulterated pleasure filling his ears. with his hand holding up your head, he’d kiss you feverishly until both of you would be pulling away gasping for air, your vision growing fuzzy as he wrapped a hand around your neck.

₊˚⊹♡ sheep!reader

“cradle” : watching the way he made you come undone while he rubbed your clit into overstimulation was the most gratifying thing he ever experienced. rafe loved holding you, forcing you to take whatever he gave you while you squirmed and reached your peak a countless amount of times. he wasn’t satisfied until you were tapping out, begging him to spare you while he held your thighs together, making you incapable of getting out of his grip. he made sure to watch your face morph into one of desperation and agony as you begged for him to slow down his movements at the very least. of course he never did, instead he made it a point for you to have tears running down your cheeks before listening to your pleas.

₊˚⊹♡ latina!kook!reader

“spoon” : fucking you while being this close to you, sharing the intimacy of eye contact was what rafe considered otherworldy. you were beyond perfect; true beauty’s description without a doubt. it drove him insane when you turned your head and looked at him with that fucked-out gaze, your expression just screaming ‘give me more!’ as he dug his fingers into your soft flesh. he’d have his face buried into your neck, breathing in your scent while he cupped your tits for leverage. eventually, you’d start moving your hips in sync with his, meeting each of his thrusts with your own, the action drawing a guttural groan from the man behind you.

₊˚⊹♡ bitchy!kook!reader

“prone bone” : if ‘i fuckin’ told you that you’d be back for this cock..’ was a position, it would be prone bone. it was the ultimate pride killer as it had both you and rafe rolling your eyes to the back of your heads. feeling his weight on top of you while he slid into you, inch by glorious inch, you’d have your head resting in your hands while rafe whispered the filthiest obscenities in your ears. from calling you a ‘cock-hungry slut’, to threatening you with carrying his baby, you had no room to object or go against his words as he practically had you pinned down in place. this position hurt in the best way possible, rafe’s length filling you to the absolute brim.

₊˚⊹♡ bitchy!pogue!reader

“downward dog” : nothing put this brat in place like a pissed off rafe who stuffed your face in his pillows while pinning your hands to your back. dumbing you down and making you feel inferior was his specialty, especially when you were so passive behind closed doors. everyday, rafe let you boss him around and let you think you had the reigns until you two were in the sheets, completely and utterly defenseless, bending to his every will. he loved watching you take him with ease, the sound of your muffled moans sending shock waves straight down to his cock. once you started moving against him, the globes of your ass meeting his abdomen, he knew it was wraps.

₊˚⊹♡ kook!sweetheart!reader

“princess” : a position suitable for a real life princess. you were so pretty and so sweet, he couldn’t help but stare down at where you two were connected, his mouth agape in pure amazement at how you managed to swallow him whole. your perfect french-tipped fingernails would rake down his chest as he rested his hands on your knees. even as you bounced on top of him, you still moved with grace, your back arched just perfectly for him to hit your sweet spot over and over again. in no time, your soaked cunt would be fluttering around the intrusion that was his cock, both of you cumming as you fought to keep moving despite the burning tension in your thighs. after all things were said and done, rafe loved holding you against his chest as he raved about how good you were for him.

₊˚⊹♡ farmer’s!daughter!reader

“reverse cowgirl” : rafe watched you horse ride one day when you thought no one was home, and seeing the way your hips moved in tandem with the animal was enough for his mind to wander other places. soon, he was thinking about your ability to ride his cock instead, the position making both of you finish in record time. he’d be hypnotized, watching the way you moved so skillfully on top of him, that teasing smile playing on your lips as you turned to give him the slightest view of your pretty face. he couldn’t get enough of you. cupping your tits while he whispered against your skin was by far your most favorite part, your heart fluttering in your chest at the intimacy of it.

₊˚⊹♡ pogue!sweetheart!reader

“merger” : now this was a fever dream. having your lips on his at the same his hands roamed your body was all he could ever ask for. with your legs wrapped around his waist, he shuddered and cursed under his breath as his cock was nestled deep inside of you, his lips trailing wet kisses across your bare chest. rafe would praise you, marveling at the sight of your naked body while tracing your curves with his fingers. he was able to take your tits into his mouth, his tongue circling your sensitive buds as you pulled him impossibly closer. taking your bottom lip between your teeth, rafe studied you carefully, engraving every detail into his brain.

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aomiiine · 2 months ago

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cock cage, orgasm denial, ruined orgasm

praedator! sylus who was sat down on a chair for an investigation, wrists held tight around his back by cuffs that his beloved enforcer graciously placed on him. He was whole-heartedly ready to keep his mouth shut and spilling sarcastically erotic words for this investigation but yet again, his enforcer was full of surprises. You chose to make this investigation a hands-on one, it seemed.

praedator! sylus whose saliva drools down the corner of his lips from all the ruthless teasing you gave him, heartlessly adding another body part of his to muzzle other than his mouth.

praedator! sylus who’s cock is achingly hard, pulsing in pure agony in its cage as it wept from the bulbous tip, flushed a deep shade of red bordering on purple from neglect. He curses you out, barks and growls at you to have you take off the muzzle and touch his bare cock. You could see how his hips jerked forward, thrashing around as much as his restraints allowed him too. And yet his feral threats only sounded yet needy pleas from the white haired praedator.

praedator! sylus who borderline whines and whimpers when you tease him long enough by denying him every single orgasm he was close to having. Even with a mere finger of yours running up and down the underside of his cock, praedator! sylus could feel his balls churning and drawing up tight, dangerously and embarrassingly close to exploding all over himself.

praedator! sylus who grunts and pants heavily like a dog when you bring his overstimulated dick to the brink of yet another climax, moaning out name like a curse and a prayer with his hoarse, baritone voice. His head thrown back would lean back forward when your fingers keep going on the agonising ministrations you provided to his erect cock, a light of hope that you’d lay mercy on him sparking in his lust-drunk mind. Hope that you’d consider finally letting him cum.

praedator! sylus who mumbles ‘yes’ repeatedly like a mantra when he feels himself inches away from spilling his load, the pads of your fingers rubbing insistently on his sensitive cockhead. His muscles flex, body tense as if bracing himself for the imminent impact that this orgasm would have on his body and mind—fuck, maybe his soul too. But you had to ruin it. Ruin the allusions of the most mind-blowing orgasm he might’ve had if you had just kept your hand moving. And now he’s a mess all over, hips bucking in the air and his rock-hard erection erupting like a fountain of thick pearly liquid of backed-up semen. His body spasms, laying back on the backrest of the chair as his thighs quiver with his entire body. His black pants are ruined, the concrete floor a lewd puddle of his baby batter that just kept flowing with each pulse of his cock and balls.

praedator! sylus whose mind turns so fucking hazy he can’t think of a single thought, only muttering promises of revenge at you while his crimson eyes remained unfocused, his vision of white spots forming as he threatened to pass out on you that very moment.

#not my best work but its something lol #sylus x reader #sylus smut #l&ds sylus #sylus x reader smut #sylus love and deepspace #love and deepspace #love and deepspace smut #love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace x reader smut #sylus x mc #lnds #lads #l&ds #lnds x reader smut #lads x y/n #lads x mc #lads sylus

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yzzart · 2 months ago

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✶⋆.˚ DID A DEMON EAT YOUR TONGUE? ── VERGIL

୭˚. ᵎᵎ summary: during your pregnancy, your husband only wants to make you feel good.

୭˚. ᵎᵎ content warnings: F!reader, reader is pregnant, established relationship/marriage, 18+, fingering, praise kink, teases, explicit words, explicit content.

“Carry on, my wife.”

The voice, so unperturbed and balanced, instructed your ears, exerting unalterable control over the words; a drastic calm, which also bothered you. — It burned, deeply, and increasingly, your skin.

Your husband, unusually, would never stop teaching you to be patient, to remain impassive — such words were ironic, like a joke about his past — even if it might take longer than expected.

“Vergil, i don’t…” — Your words, if they could be considered, slipped, incoherently, and not maintaining harmony of meaning, it was ridiculous, humiliating; you were starting to become blind, incapable of any shit in your head.

The half-demon, your lovely husband, kept you, in pure and complete comfort, between his thighs; pleasing a position where your belly, which was gestating your firstborn, would fit. — Firstborn, it was such a beautiful word, wasn't it? — The bed amplified the comfort, the fine and satiny sheets that blended together.

Oh, it wasn't just that. — Worried, perhaps, a little complacent, and austere with your complaints, which were not few, of contractions, discomfort and a thirst for need, Vergil didn't worry about a solution; his lover always knew what, in fact, to do. — Or rather, his fingers knew what to do.

“Can’t you tell me how your day was?” — He breathed, feigning disappointment, against the back of your neck, leaving a small kiss on the warm skin; at the same time, moving his middle finger inside you. — “I’m so curious.”

Your hand snaked down Vergil's strong arm, pressed so tightly against your body, lightly scraping your nails and feeling him shiver faintly. — The damned man laughed, seeing your despair and delight, which was so adorable, he followed his lips to your reddened cheek, kissing. — Such an affectionate gesture.

Vergil rested his back against the headboard, made of pure and resistant wood, in front of your body that rubbed desperately against his legs; with your hip, you tried to intensify the pleasure, wanting more while, with the other hand, you supported yourself on your belly. — A stunning scene for him.

“My wife,” — He claimed softly in his voice, breathing deeply and inhaling your scent; something that left him distracted, addicted as a demon is thirsty for blood. — “I have the right to know if you felt any pain or dissatisfaction.” — During the small reprimand, Vergil increased the speed of his finger, exuding a wet noise between your thighs. — “I would hate to know that my child is causing you so much mercy.” — The speech sounded sweet with a touch of predominance.

Gods, upon learning that he had impregnated you, after countless mating sessions, — such animalistic vocabulary, which came out of his scrupulous and brave mouth, causing a burning sensation between your legs — Vergil severely held you in his claws.

Not that this is an objection, ever.

The long finger provided a slow, disgusting “come and go” against all the agony that burned in your chest, wanting to delight and release that trapped pressure. — But it was so delicious, delirious, hellish.

“V-Vergil..!” — Tears began to threaten your eyes, the selfish and power-hungry man pushed, deepened, his finger, touching and feeling your velvety walls; locked and inside your pussy, he stimulated, moved his finger. — “My husband, my husband..” — You repeated it countless times.

“Yes, my darling?” — That damned demon, and he was still the father of your child, drove her crazy and, formidably, fucked you up. — “Tell me.” — The sky-blue eyes, which always contemplated you, in every detail that could exist in you, traveled to his hand; including his head, enhancing his vision, he observed the silver shine on his ring finger, his wedding ring.

The proof of your union, commitment to the faithful and pure passion bond between you and him. — The pact, the promise that would never be broken in any life.

“I felt nothing.” — Finally, you spoke, and you weren’t lying; even though it was extremely difficult to format words or be fair to your lover. — “I swear to you, i swear..”

Your head turned, along with a few strands of hais standing out against the eldest's chest, and those dilated, trembling and, in the midst of voluptuousness, ecstatic eyes met Vergil's face. — You were so charming, apollonian; you always were.

“I just missed you, my love.” — Your voice pleaded, whimpering through the teary vision; Sparda smiled delicately, dedicating human tenderness. — “Please,” — Tears began to roll.

“My beautiful wife,” — Vergil kissed your forehead, feeling a salty taste on his lips, removing one hand that prevented you from closing your legs completely, and resting it on top of yours, which was on your belly. — “the lovely mother of my child.” — The words warmed your heart, entering into fascination.

When he finished speaking, Vergil returned to investing small, quick and flexible thrusts with the same finger, smiling when he heard your needy and melodic meows. — And nodding his head in agreement with anything that came out of your cute little mouth.

#vergil #vergil sparda #vergil dmc #devil may cry #devil may cry netflix #devil may cry anime #dmc #vergil x reader #vergil sparda x reader #vergil x you #vergil smut #vergil x reader smut

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hiraethwrote · 9 months ago

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NEVER GOT YOUR NAME

✧ pairing: satoru gojo x f!reader ✧ summary: based of this drabble — you're ex is borderline harassing you. he just will not leave you alone, and in a desperate attempt to get him off your back, you tell a little white lie. in panic, you grab the first stranger to walk by and introduce him as your date ✧ cw: fluff, light profanity, one little comment about previous sexual relationship, arguing, word vomit ngl (i'm describing too much sorry) pining, reader is smaller than satoru, mild use of petnames, no use of y/n ✧ word count: 3.5k

He was a menace. A true and genuine menace, who seemed to have some sort of natural ability in finding you, no matter where you were.

Maybe getting a restraining order was the next step — there was no way he managed to just randomly run into at the rate that he was, whether that was in the grocery store, the gas station or just on the street. No, he had to be stalking you, right? The universe wouldn’t be so cruel to give this guy, your god awful ex, the privilege of fulfilling his desires of bumping into you.

Yet, here you stood in front of him again.

His eyebrows pinched together, an innocent little smirk tilting his mouth crooked, feeding you the same lines he always did.

“Great seeing you again,” like you hadn’t ran into him not even three days ago. “You look fantastic, as always. How’ve you been, sweets?” Urgh, one of the many nicknames he had named you — your stomach turning at the sound of it. You were scared you might actually hurl.

“Stop calling me that,” you demanded, keeping your voice low. He always managed to bring your anger right to the surface, to which you had to use all your energy not to blow up in his face. It had already happened once, about two months after you broke up with him. You had raised your voice at him and lashed out, causing some random bystander to interfere — who had then proceed to take his side. Unbelievable, as if he wasn’t the one who had taken you for granted for the entirety of your relationship.

“Sorry, old habits die hard, you know.” So full of shit. You’d been broken up for months, there shouldn’t have been any problem dropping the pet names. He only did it as a tactic to try and manipulate you into his arms again. And to think you willingly used to sleep with this guy. “Since we’re both here, why don’t we grab lunch together?”

“Oh, please,” you breathed, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“It’ll be good for us, sweets-“ don’t punch him, don’t punch him, don’t punch him. “Maybe we can talk some things-“

“I’m actually here on a date!”

Finally he shut up, only for his face to twist into an expression of pure disgust. It was clear the idea had never even crossed his mind — and you would have been able to enjoy his agony had it not been for the fact that it was a complete and utter lie, thrown out in a moment of desperation.

What were you to do when your ex decided to wait around for your date to arrive, and he never showed? You could already picture his face — the patronising pity he would pay you, while you’d be able to read his satisfaction behind his eyes, as he would use it against you for months to come.

You had only bought yourself some time and you needed to think fast.

“Who? I mean, do I know them? Have you met them before?” He stuttered out questions of bewilderment as your limbs were growing ever more frantic at your side.

And then the bell above the entrance of the cafe chimed a sweet tune, eyes snapping towards the sound. “Ah, there he is!” Your arms acted on their own accord, hands grabbing onto the bicep of the person who had been so unfortunate to walk in right as you were spiralling.

Swallowing the worst of your anxiety, you dared turn your head towards the random person, hoping to god he wasn’t ugly (because that would just be yet another thing your ex would badger you about).

Due to his height, you had to angle your head more than expected to meet his piercing eyes that were ogling you with complete confusion — but you only had time to take in his appearance for a slit second before you shot him a pleading look, betting everything on the off chance that he would be able to read the situation — but also finding it in himself to play along to your little performance.

Your fingers squeezed lightly at his arm, bringing him back to reality. Then it only took him a second to make up his mind, the white haired stranger wiping off his confusion and confidently throwing his muscular arm across your shoulders. Once he turned to face your ex, he had painted his features with the smuggest grin one could imagine, revealing a charming dimple.

He tilted forward slightly, which only brought more attention to how much taller he was than your ex, and shot his hand out between them. “Satoru, pleasure to meet you.” His tone matched his expression, not a single speckle of insecurity to pick up on anywhere. Your ex stared at his hand with disdain before begrudgingly accepting the gesture and introducing himself in return. “Hm, don’t think she’s mentioned you.”

Your lips parted in surprise, not expecting this Satoru to take his role so seriously — and then put on an award winning show right off the bat, nonetheless. Was it finally your turn to be blessed by the universe with some good karma in the shape of the most perfect stranger to deal with the situation?

Turning to take a quick glance at your ex, you had to press your lips together to choke back the cackle that threatened to escape. His expression was priceless, Satoru’s innocent little comment rolling of his tongue so effortlessly, causing a slight twitch in your ex’s eye.

“Well, I’m her-“ then he cleared his throat, struggling to finish his sentence. You weren’t surprised his title died in his throat, having never really accepted the fact that the relationship with over.

“He’s my ex,” you said, finding some courage to casually place your hand on Satoru’s chest, hoping and begging you weren’t making him uncomfortable by crossing a line.

“Aaah, your ex,” this Satoru trialed off with an awkward raise of the eyebrows before he turned to look at you again. That’s when you finally got to take a proper look at his breathtaking eyes, the whole ocean trapped in his irises. But you couldn’t let yourself fall completely mesmerised — you shook off the affect his piercing eyes seemed to have. “Sorry I’m running a little late. I stopped by the bookstore down the street to see if they had that book you recommended on our first date.” Then he served you what seemed like a genuine smile.

Stop, not the time to admire the handsome stranger!

You bashfully tilted your head forward while the sweetest chuckle traveled past your lips, also having to sell the performance. “How sweet of you to remember.”

“Of course!” He smoothly removed his arm from your shoulder to slide it along your back, moving it in comforting circles — but he never let it travel too far.

Your ex had his glare glued to Satoru’s gesture, unable to look away no matter how badly he wanted to.

“Never got around to that one,” your ex said with an awkward, forced laugh in an attempt to shift the attention back to him. He probably thought he was being charming (he always thought he was), but his little comment only gave you another reminder to why you had broken up with him — he never cared about your interests, as he couldn’t be bothered to pick up your favourite book, no matter how many times you had asked him if he could at least give it a try.

“Huh, how unfortunate.” Again, your ex couldn’t conceal the little reaction Satoru caused in his face by his incredibly taunting tone.

He cleared his throat again, and you could see how he was grasping at straws trying to redeem himself. “So, what do you have planned?” It wasn’t too obvious, but you could tell — you could tell he asked as a challenge, certain your “date” wouldn’t be able to suffice an answer that would leave him satisfied.

You opened your mouth to answer, but only managed to take a breath before Satoru had already started his lengthy explanation. “Well, first I’m taking her out for lunch, obviously,” he mused, taking a quick glance around your surroundings. “And I didn’t want to ruin the surprise, but I got us entrance tickets for the botanical garden uptown. She told me she’s been wanting to go for months.” Then he turned to look at you.

He said it with such a genuine smile painting the corner of his lips, both of you letting the eye contact linger for a second. For once you were thankful for your ex, because if it wasn’t for him drawing Satoru’s alluring eyes away, you were scared you might just have found yourself swooning a little.

“Oh, yeah, of course,” your ex chuckled in response with a nonchalant eye roll, “she might have mentioned it once or twice.”

“Hm,” Satoru huffed, sucking in his cheeks and eyeing him up and down

Pathetic was really the only word that Satoru would use to best describe the individual in front of him. He just seemed so puny, reeking of insecurity, only amplified by how he had so easily went along with the lie of a botanical garden — something Satoru had just pulled from the top of his head.

A huge, nervous lump traveled down his throat as Satoru held his gaze hostage, his dominant behaviour easily smothering any sprinkle of confidence your ex might have possessed at one point — all by just being there. And it was just so satisfying that it was finally your turn to watch your no-good ex being the one who was tormented for once.

“Well-“ his voice cracked the slightest, Satoru pursing his lips in amusement at the little slip, “I have to get going now. I’ll see you around,” stumbling over his words as his face shyly grew redder. Then he just turned on his heel and left, leaving no time for you to even say goodbye.

Satoru instantly felt your body relax at his side with a deep exhale, the hand that had shyly rested on his chest with modesty falling the second the door was shut — and once you took a step in front of him, he became hyper aware of how close to him you had been the entire time. With the sudden absence of your body next to his, he realised how perfectly you had just seemed to fit next to him. Nearly as if you had been made simply to be by his side.

And stood in front of him, he finally got the chance to take a look at you. A proper look at you, and damn, you were beautiful. Your eyes were kind, which amazed him considering the unpleasant encounter that had just taken place.

The chuckle you’d faked along with his act was still resting on your lips, but now it definitely seemed more real — warm.

“Thank you so much!” You gushed, “I am so sorry I just dragged you into that! I was panicking.”

Satoru watched intently as you spoke, unable to peer his eyes off you. His attention held on to every syllable, entirely captivated by your person, eyes roaming your face to take in every little detail there was to observe.

“Shit,” you suddenly interrupted yourself, taking a glance at your watch.

“I never caught-“

“I really wish I could stay and treat you for lunch, as thanks,” you cut him off, seemingly not even acknowledging how he had tried to speak, rummaging through your bag frantically before pulling out your wallet, “but because of him I’m running late. So, here, take this,” you chuckled lightly while stuffing his hands full of cash. “I really appreciate what you did!” Satoru was barely able to decode what you were saying as it all came tumbling out in one breath.

Continuing to spew a string of thank you’s, you quickly backed out of the cafe, his eyes following you as you jogged lightly down the street and out of sight.

Satoru was left utterly baffled, simply ogling the vacated spot you had occupied seconds ago.

Of all the times Satoru would end up tongue tied, this was the worst possible moment — he was cursing himself relentlessly for not being quick enough to demand a name, and now you were just gone, some random person he’d been lucky enough to cross paths with for a moment.

He knew he should just get on with his day — use the money you had gifted him and buy himself that sweet treat he wanted and forget about you. But he couldn’t — he wouldn't.

Had you just decided to walk into a random cafe you had just so happened to walk past that particular day?

Satoru certainly thought so. Because when he couldn’t rid you from his mind, he had gone back to that very same cafe, childlike optimism filling his body while he lingered the area, waiting for your figure to show.

It never did.

His patience quickly ran out, growing more restless every day that passed where he didn’t see you stroll down the street to return to the cafe to grab the lunch you never got to have.

He couldn’t let it rest in the hands of the universe any longer. After days of casually stalking the area, he decided to strut through the entrance of the building to simply ask.

“And how can I help you today, sir?” The sweet girl behind the counter mused, the perfect customer service smile greeting him as he leaned his entire weight in the edge of the counter.

“Hi there, remember me?”

He saw her shoulders rise slightly as she took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, I don’t,” yet another polite smile.

“I was in here about three weeks ago. Was with this really pretty girl-“

“Sir,” she gently interrupted him, still the same smile on her face, “we see hundred of faces every day. We have no way of remembering them all.”

His head fell back dramatically, huffing in disappointment as his fingers flexed against the marble top. “Thanks, anyway,” he mumbled quietly, shuffling over to a secluded table in the corner, sulking in his lonesome while his eyes were locked on the door, still filled with a light glimmer of hope that you would show.

It became routine — sitting in the same corner in the back, ordering the same thing while he waited for three hours everyday before he eventually had to leave, with a heavy heart, to attend to his duties.

And if the nice barista didn’t recognise him before, she definitely did now, walking over to his table and serving him his plate with a sympathetic smile. “No show today either?” The most theatrical sigh would leave his lips every time she asked the question, sad puppy dog eyes on display as he shook his head. “Sorry, buddy.”

“It’s getting a little sad, don’t you think?” Her coworker would comment once she rejoined her behind the counter, both of them keeping an eye on him with pinched eyebrows.

“I don’t know,” she breathed, crossing her arms over her chest. “It’s a little romantic.”

Then they would share a look, some judgement passing between their eyes before they burst into innocent laughter, wondering how long they would get to witness his yearning before he eventually gave up his dreams of finding you again.

For days, Satoru’s head would snap towards the door every time the tiny bell rang, witnessing all sorts of people come to enjoy a little treat but not a single one of them fit your description.

Maybe this was just too hopeless? Tokyo was the most populated city in the world — bumping into the same person twice was like finding a needle in a high stack. Scratch that, it was like finding a rice grain in the great Sahara desert. But he kept praying, hoping the universe would bless him with his desire.

It was a perfectly okay day.

The temperature was nice — higher than expected for a mid-fall day — but the weather wasn’t much to brag about. For the past week it had been raining. Not pouring, but a light, constant drizzle that tapped quietly against the cafe window as Satoru stared mindlessly out at the scenery of concrete buildings and trees changing colour.

There was only a single string of hope that kept him sitting in that chair day after day, but it was destined to break soon. His head didn’t even turn towards the door anymore when that little bell rang with the familiar chime. He simply rested his chin in the palm of his hand, giving all the responsibility back to the universe.

The familiar barista came to his table, picking up the plate littered with only crumps and not one, but two, empty coffee mugs (that had been more sugar than coffee).

“Same time tomorrow?” She asked sweetly, wiping the table clean while balancing the dishes in her other hand.

He instantly wiped away his disappointment, plastering on the most convincing smile he could muster as he turned to face her. “I don’t think so.” She stared wide eyed at him, mouth parted into a shy ‘o’, a little disappointed to see him finally give up, having started to root for him a long time ago. “You’ve had exceptional service,” he beamed from ear to ear as he got up from his chair, her eyes never leaving him as he stood to tower over her.

He gave her one last tight lipped smile as he passed her. “Goodbye,” she stuttered quietly, keeping her pitying gaze on him as he headed for the exit.

The bell rang one last time, and Satoru was a little relieved he wouldn’t have to hear the obnoxiously high-pitching ding again — his relief short lasted as he crashed into a figure smaller than himself the second he was about to exit.

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I wasn’t watching- well, if it isn’t my knight in shining armour!”

What were the chances?

After all those days — waiting, staring, stuffing his face with sweets — and to think he was just about to give up. Maybe the universe had finally decided to take pity on him, wanting to reward his patience.

You looked as breathtaking as the day you had desperately latched onto his arm — maybe even better. You seemed lighter almost, as if someone had lifted off pounds from your shoulders. Same kind eyes, but a sense of peace glossing over them instead of frustration.

“It’s you,” it fell from his lips involuntary.

“In the flesh,” you chuckled. The sweet, vibrating sound faded into a clear of the throat when Satoru only continued to ogle you without a word. “Oh, sorry, you were leaving-“ you stuttered, stepping aside to let him pass. You were left confused when he didn’t walk past you, but rather kept his glare on you.

“I never got your name.”

“Sorry?” You asked, his voice too quiet to pick up on.

The same smug grin you’d seen on his face so many weeks ago greeted you, swallowing the nervous lump in your throat. “I never got your name,” more assertive now that he had increased his volume.

“Oh,” you said shyly, your fingers tightening around the strap of your bag. Eyeing his attractive smile, you let your name roll off your tongue before mirroring his expression of happiness.

If it was even possible, his smile stretched even further across his face, the dimples you’d noticed last time appearing on each side of his face. “Nice to finally meet you. Properly this time.”

His natural charm just steamed off him in abundance, something you had only appreciated in glimpses in your stressed haze. “You too,” you smiled.

“I haven’t seen you here since that day.”

“Well, that’s because I haven’t been here since then,” you chucked nervously, glancing towards the register when you felt some interrogating eyes on you — both of the girls behind the counter wringing their heads away from you and Satoru. “My ex has had a tendency to linger in areas we ‘bump’ into each other,” you raise your fingers to gesture the quotation marks, “but I actually think meeting you might have scared him off for good. Haven’t seen him since, so thank you again.”

“Truly my pleasure,” he straightened his posture, his height growing even more impressive. He spoke your name, and despite not really knowing you, he said it with a tenderness your ex always lacked. “I was wondering,” he took a step closer, his eyes flittering between yours, “I owe you a trip to a botanical garden, don’t you think?”

Your breath instantly hitched in your throat, heat spreading modestly across your face.

Of course the handsome stranger who had come to your rescue in a moment of genuine despair had crossed your mind from time to time since then — you had just come to terms with the fact you would never be as lucky to cross paths with the polite stranger again. And the part of you that had been plagued with embarrassment was okay with that.

But the excitement in his eyes as he waited for you to answer slowly erased the uncomfortable feeling.

“Sure, I’d like that.”

tags (taglist form) @sad-darksoul ﾉ @05-simply-06-simping ﾉ @geniejunn ﾉ @alixris ﾉ @shadava

@gdamnackerman ﾉ @sunfl0werlevi ﾉ @gojonegs ﾉ @m0nsterzl0ve

@cupidxml ﾉ @lashaemorow ﾉ @cirquedelooney ﾉ @itsinherited

@elenor222 ﾉ @mima0127 ﾉ @lem-hhn ﾉ @mechanicalmari

a/n it's finally here and i think i'm happy with it... not entirely sure. think i've seen myself blind on this fic. however, thank you so much for the reception on the little drabble that took me literally ten minutes to write, hope this lives up to your expectations <3 likes, comments and reblogs is much appreciated

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a-leg-without-fear · 2 months ago

Text

Cold🔥🌧️

i'd like to thank matthew michael murdock for getting me back into writing

Ship: Matt Murdock x Female!Reader

Rating: 18+ (WE'RE BACK BAYBEE)

Wordcount: 2.4k

Warnings: smut, sexual situations, foreplay, oral (fem receiving), shower sex, violence, blood, faith, depressive thoughts, angst, cursing, mentions of choking/hanging, DAREDEVIL: BORN AGAIN SPOILERS

Song: Cold by Annie Lennox

Chk. Kssssssss.

Hot water rained down in pellets of fire against Matt’s skin. Beating on his bruises and cuts, both cleansing and punishing in their nature. Warmth licked along his flesh and cooked him alive. His heart still pounding, jaw clenched, muscles twitching as if ready to pounce. Steam immediately clogged his senses with a pure, fog-like mist.

Matt had leaned forward, body suspended by his palms braced against the glass wall. His head hung low between his shoulders. Streams of water raced from his slicked hair down his battered chest. Faint traces of crimson leeched into the clear streaks and merged into a puddle around the drain. Swirls of grime and sweat and blood circled the steel grate.

A twinge from the darkening bruise lining his back, a sharp jab of agony, and Matt was yanked back a mere four hours.

Musty. Musty and old, were his first thoughts. The tiles lining the walls of this tunnel were caked in layer after layer of age. Notes of mold, earth, dust, and several other unsavory smells surrounded Matt on all sides. Whistled passed him as he charged down the unused subway tracks.

He grimaced, straightening his posture and dropping his arms. A reluctant shiver rolled up his spine at the change in position. Faint caresses of fatigue laced through the tendons in his calves.

New scents emerged in the path Matt followed. Cortisol, blood beating through a pounding heart, unwashed rags coated in copper-smelling paint. A young man, standing at 5-feet 9-inches. Whispers of countless victims surrounded this person like a dark aura.

Neck cracking, he tilted his head to stretch out the tension hardening his shoulders. The shower pummeled Matt’s sensitive skin. Harsh collisions shifted to soothing blows, massaging sore muscles and strained joints. Matt let out a labored breath. He lifted his head and let the forgiving water run down his face in penitent rivulets.

The chill of the silver chain around his neck was a stark contrast to the comforting warmth wrapping around Matt like a blanket. An ever-present reminder, cradling the simple cross right above where his heart slowed behind his ribs. He moved to glance a touch off the shining metal, fingers gently tremoring, then diverted to rub at his heavy eyelids.

Rage gathered at the base of his skull like a brewing storm. Fiery, explosive, lightning flashing and bathing Matt’s senses in a red blaze. A guttural scream bellowed from between his bared teeth. With a crouch, coiled like a snake, Matt launched himself into the air.

Movement. The creak of the bathroom door. Matt tensed, widening his awareness beyond the fogged glass walls of the shower. Someone had entered the room. They were familiar, close, Matt's own scent followed the new presence like a shadow. He cocked his head as he focused.

Hair tousled and lightly tangled, eyes still drooping from sleep, one of Matt's shirts draped across a shambling frame. A quiet yawn fell from between pursed lips.

Matt let a small smile tug at his features. He turned his head to offer acknowledgement, an understanding that your presence hadn't gone unnoticed.

"Hey," you offered, graveled voice passing through the air like a hand through smoke. More rustling, the sound of cotton rasping against skin, only a trace of Matt's scent left dancing along your skin as the shirt crumpled in a pile on the floor.

The shower door opened with a hiss. Steam roiled in the air and encompassed your body with open arms. You moved to stand behind Matt, every step accompanied by a light splash of water lapping at the soles of your feet.

Gentle fingertips brushed the glaring splotches across Matt's back. His body responded with an involuntary shudder, fists clenching at his sides. A light gasp caught between your teeth.

"Matt..." you whispered under your breath. Your hands glided across the bruises with delicate precision.

The steel, pointed barb shot out of Matt's baton like a bullet. It soared through the air, propelling him forward, before embedding itself in the bricks behind the canvas-covered man with a spray of rubble.

"Hey. Matt? What happened?"

Your palms smoothed around the warmed skin of his waist, embracing him from behind. A soothing breath coasted along the droplets clinging to his back. His hands wrapped around yours, clasped just below his ribs.

"I'm fine, sweetheart," he answered simply. You sighed, pressing your cheek between his shoulder blades. Matt could feel tendrils of your hair sticking to his skin like vines on an old building.

"You can talk to me, you know," you breathed, the words falling heavy from your lips. You squeezed him tighter as you nuzzled closer against his back. Matt winced, your collarbone digging into a fractured rib.

"Of course I do," he replied.

Matt turned in your arms until he was facing you. Your chests pressed together, breath mingling in the space between you, water cascading in trails and carving highways down your bodies. He ran his fingertips along your arms until he could cup your jaw in his hands.

It was in times like these, when thousands of water drops hit your body in rapid succession, that Matt felt like he could truly see you. Every splash of liquid against the planes of your face illuminated your features like fireworks. The slope of your nose, how your cheekbones rose and fell until they met your jaw line, the crinkle in the corners of your eyes as you looked up at him.

He traced a delicate pattern in the water still clinging to your cheek with his thumb. The crease between your eyebrows deepened the longer Matt went without giving an explanation.

But he didn't feel like giving one.

Fist collided with face as Matt tackled Muse. Blow after blow both thrown and received between the two. Matt would hook a punch over Muse's head, only to dodge a kick to his ribs in the next millisecond. The faint heartbeat echoing from Angela's chest gave Matt a strict deadline. Her slowing pulse echoed inside his head, spurring him on as Muse kneed him in the hip. A dance of blood and death.

"Matt?"

Shoving down the events of last night, he connected your lips to his in a heated kiss. His long fingers tangled in your soaked hair as he tilted your head in just the way he needed. He drew you impossibly closer, tighter, making you pliant beneath his touch. You gasped into his mouth, a noise that was easily swallowed by Matt.

The pads of your fingertips glided up his back in near reverence. As if the lines in your skin spelled worship. Every point of connection between the two of you was Matt's lifeline. His reason for being. The altar he prayed to every evening.

Matt walked you back with every exchanged breath. He lavished in how perfectly you fit together. His tongue tracing the edges of your teeth, his lips brushing against yours, his hands falling from your hair to drift over the warm dew gathering on your arms.

"Matt," you whispered between breaths, voice already dripping with need. He could sense the prologue of your body's symphony. Waves of heat and arousal orchestrated from between your legs floated through the bathroom's haze. A gentle nip under your ear conducted the violins to join the revelry. A touch brushed across your hip beckoned the flutes. Your back resting against the misted glass invited the drums and harps.

Once your body was flush with the glass, Matt began making his journey down. Painting brushstrokes of idolatry along the thin skin under your jaw. Utter adoration flowed from each kiss, each drag of his canines. You are where I can find forgiveness.

"Matt, please," you whined. Your palms found purchase on the swell of his chest, pushing gently, "What- Shit! -What happened? Where did the bruises-"

"Let me have this," he gasped, tearing his mouth from your skin like separating pieces of velcro. His forehead came to rest on your shoulder.

"Matt-"

"I need this. I'll tell you after," he begged softly. Matt willed his pulse to even out with heavy gulps of air as he waited for your response.

A moment. Two. Electricity darted between the water molecules surrounding you like your own solar system. Matt tilted his chin to breathe in the skin at the crook of your neck. His senses zeroed in on you like entering a long tunnel.

God, he could taste how aroused you were. Wave after wave of the scent that was distinctly you overwhelmed the flashes of pain and violence from hours prior. Splashes of blood were coated in a rose-colored hue, screams were muted, pain was temporary. If heaven was real, it was buried within your scent.

"Promise?" you asked tentatively.

Matt pressed a chaste kiss against the hinge of your jaw, "Promise."

You hooked a finger under his chin, angling his face so you could meet his unseeing eyes. There was no forgery in his desperation for you. Every waking moment, every second that passed without you held against him was another mile added to his descent into hell.

"Okay. After," you finally said. That was all the answer Matt needed.

His knees collided with the slick tile, a dull thud ricocheting up his thighs. Supplicant. Hands gripping at your hips like you were this all-encompassing deity. He could practically feel the warmth of your holy radiance evaporating the water still trailing down his back.

The first step in his path to salvation was hooking your knee over his broad shoulder.

You let out a drawn "fuck," as Matt dragged his lips along the inside of your thigh. He could feel the pulse of your blood flowing through the thin skin, how every cell in your body ached for him.

A long drag with the flat of his tongue along your thigh had him groaning against you. He hadn't even reached your folds, his north star, the summit he aspired to, and his eyes were rolling underneath their lids. Another rasping swipe made a shudder roll through his body.

Scraping, pulling fingers wove through his drenched hair. Tugged him higher and higher to that zenith he could never be without. An involuntary hum rumbled deep in his chest. His one and only goal achievable, now that he'd been led to where you needed him most.

Your body beckoned him to drink from you. Practically begged for him to sup of your ambrosia, to feel your arousal flow down his throat. Every pass of his tongue through your cunt guided you both to rapture. Matt clung to your legs like you were his means of survival.

He was addicted to you. That much was painfully obvious. Like any devout to their god, Matt worshipped you. He could lay at your feet and drink from your body's chalice for the rest of his sinful life and never live up to your sanctity.

If Matt was the devil, then you were an angel.

Nothing mattered as much as pleasuring you. Whether it be with his tongue, his scarred hands, or his cock. The world could burn if it meant hearing your breathless moans one last time.

"Matt..."

Even the way you said his name. Like a choir singing the most beautiful hymn. The chords of an organ framed every gasp, every whine that fell from your parted lips. You were rapidly approaching the crest. You stood at the white cliff's edge before a roaring tide, waves crashing over your body like the water from a steaming shower.

Hips rocking in time with his ministrations, thighs squeezing around the crown of his head, fingers pulling at his hair. Strings of blasphemous curses flew from between your clenched teeth. Your head had fallen against the wall, eyes screwed shut, with strands of your hair sticking to the glass in a halo.

One last gentle flick of his tongue against your bundle of nerves and you shattered. Fractals of broken, stained glass rained down over Matt's prostrated body. Currents of ecstasy coursed through your veins. A choked breath caught on your tongue.

Matt reveled in the unbridled swell of pride that filled his chest. He was the one who made you feel this way. He was the one who had you moaning his name. Gone were the flecks of blood coating his skin in a constellation of violence. Gone was the unrepentant fool who entered this shower. He truly, undeniably, felt forgiveness leak from between your thighs and into his waiting mouth.

And he didn't stop.

He kept working at that bundle of nerves, begging for this euphoria to never end. You squirmed as best you could in your position. Back slumped against the glass, held upright by Matt's embodiment of Atlas holding the world.

It wasn't until he felt a gentle prod at his face that he pulled away. He barely moved an inch before he felt the tremor running up your legs. As gracefully as he could, he lowered the leg on his shoulder to the floor.

Your chest heaved with strained breaths. Water, or maybe sweat, beaded on your skin. A shaking hand untangled from Matt's hair and pressed to your forehead.

"H-Holy shit, Matt," you uttered into the steam. A sly smile finally spread across his lips. Ever the devil, was he.

A faint note of copper caught his attention. Sparked bright in his senses like a lens flare. His eyebrows knit together as he focused on the source.

You had bit your lip. Hard enough to draw blood.

Threaded cord wrapped around a sinner's neck. Thrashing limbs, choked and broken pleas, scrabbling boots against concrete. None of it mattered. Matt continued to tighten the noose.

"You okay?" came your panted voice through Matt's churning thoughts.

He squared his shoulders, rising on sore feet. His fingers twitched as his mind fought with itself. Two halves of him barking and snarling at each other like rabid dogs.

"I'll go get dressed. You finish up," he said, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. Matt ignored the gnawing guilt in his gut as he stepped out of the shower.

"O-Okay."

The silhouette of your body remained burned in his senses, the brilliant beam to navigate the gathering thunderstorm in his head. How utterly rhapsodic every nerve spiderwebbed through your skin had glowed. And how he'd left you standing vacant and alone in that shower.

He cursed the very fiber of his being. Damned men don't get to delight in otherworldly pleasures. Wicked creatures should remain in the shadows where they belong. The chill of the early-morning air only solidified that line of thought.

Matt was unholy, a scorn to your radiant image. The broken horn on his nightstand, caked in blood and sacrifice, was a constant reminder of how impious he truly was.

As he sat on the bed, devil horn rubbed between his thumb and index finger, all he could think of was how utterly cold he was.

HAPPY SEASON FINALE OF DD:BA!!! what a fucking WILD ride they've taken us on, huh. it has been.... mostly ok!!! i love how matt blew up his life for most of the season, very on brand we love that for him. ep7 happened. it definitely aired. but other than that cold sore in the middle, i've loved the show!! thank GOD it's better than i expected.

also, thank you to the tuna team!!! chatting with y'all is always a highlight of my days, whether it be about the (FAR TOO BRIEF) shower scene or the cinematic beauty that was this show.

#daredevil #matt murdock #charlie cox #daredevil born again #born again #daredevil fanfic #matt murdock fanfic #daredevil born again fanfic #born again fanfic #daredevil smut #matt murdock smut #daredevil born again smut #born again smut #daredevil x reader #matt murdock x reader #daredevil born again spoilers #born again spoilers #POSTING THIS REAL QUICK THEN WATCHING THE FINALE BYEEEEEE

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lqveharrington · 3 months ago

Text

Every Year in Greece? | F.W.

summary: after ten years of marriage, you and Fred find yourselves celebrating in Greece with your family.

pairing: dad!fred weasley x mom!reader

includes: PURE FLUFF, reader is implied pregnant at the end

a/n: I’m about to be free of all stress after March 8, so the posting should be consistent very soon!!

Love is absolutely endless. No matter how, where, or who falls in love, it was always bound to come. In your life, it came the second you met Fred Weasley in your first year at Hogwarts. Maybe it didn’t occur to you straight away that he was the true love of your life, but you knew as time went on.

Now it was your ten-year wedding anniversary.

This year, your family had collectively agreed to celebrate in Greece, with the added surprise of Molly and Arthur joining to watch over your two troublemakers—children you and Fred loved with every piece of your hearts.

Sunlight filtered through the white curtains, casting a golden glow over the room where you and Fred lay tangled beneath soft sheets. His head rested in the crook of your neck, warm breath fanning against your skin as you lazily traced patterns into the freckled expanse of his back. The world outside was quiet save for the distant sound of waves lapping against the shore. Peace. Pure, perfect peace.

Until it wasn’t.

With a burst of energy only Weasley twins possessed, the door slammed open. The newly appointed Weasley twins—Jane and Henry—launched themselves onto the bed with gleeful squeals, sending Fred jolting upright, hair tousled and eyes bleary.

“M’sorry, lovey,” you mumbled and pressed a kiss to his head as he groaned in mock agony. You reached for the two lively children, pulling them into your arms. “Now how did you two escape Nana and Papa?”

“They were busy making breakfast for us!” Jane answered with a bright grin, laughter filling the air when Fred began to tickle her. She squealed, squirming in your arms. “Daddy!”

You chuckled softly before turning your head toward Henry, his laughter quieter than his twin’s. You nudged your chin to his forehead, earning his attention. “Are you excited to head to the beach, Henry?”

He shifted in your arms and nodded, his browns eyes—the same one’s his father had—sparkling with excitement. “Yes! I’m gonna build the biggest sandcastle in the world! It’s gonna be bigger than the Burrow!”

Fred’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, Jane now in his arms and messing with his hair. “Bigger than the Burrow? Mate, we better get to the beach now before other people begin taking all the sand!”

Henry’s mouth fell agape, voice coming out as loud as his father’s. “People do that?”

You suppressed your laughter as Fred dramatically described his story about his vacation to Egypt when he was fifteen—slipping out of bed to get for the day for Godric knows how long the twins will encourage their father to keep talking.

By the time you exited the bathroom with the white sundress Fred bought you just for Greece and hair pulled back—still styled perfectly like usual—Henry was sitting crisscrossed on your side of the bed still listening to his father while Jane finished another braid in his hair. As always, Fred remained unbothered by anything his children did to his hair, especially the braids his daughter adorned him with.

“—And your uncle Georgie and I could’ve trapped your uncle Perce in the tomb when…” Fred trailed off as he saw you step out of the bathroom and began to pack for the beach. His eyes scanned your figure before meeting your eyes, your warmed cheeks saying unspoken things. “Bloody hell, your mum’s gorgeous.”

At the mention of their mother’s return, the twins whipped their heads in your direction, clambering over the bed to race into your loving arms one more. You stumbled at the sudden impact and held them close, your smile absolutely blinding to Fred.

“You two need to get out of your jammies and into beach clothes,” you squeezed their shoulders and ushered them out of the room swiftly, tilting your head out the doorway to ensure they made it to their room before turning back to Fred. “You need to change too, Weasley.”

Snapping out of his quiet daze, he finally stood and stretched like a lion, freckles that were scattered across his body practically glittering from the rays of sunlight. He met your stern look—the one where you narrowed your eyes at him with your hands on your hips—and placed a large hand on your waist, pulling you close to him.

Keeping your facade up, you bite your tongue in hopes of not letting a smile slip through. However, nothing ever gets past Fred Weasley’s careful eye.

“I suppose,” he murmured and tilted his head down to meet your eyes properly, squeezing your hip softly.

You subconsciously wet your lips and flit your eyes down to his inviting lips—instantly lifting them back to meet his teasing eyes. “Better hurry if you want to help Henry make his sandcastle.”

Fred hummed and thumbed your waist, “Sure.”

Finally giving in, you wrapped your arms around his neck as a loving smile adorned your face, pushing on your toes to be closer. You play with the hair in your reach, twirling the red hair in between your fingers. “I love you, Fred Weasley. I hope you know that.”

He grinned and closed the distance between the two of you, pressing a tender kiss to your lips and pulling you impossibly closer to him. Fred deepened the kiss ever so slightly before pulling away, leaving you in a daze and wanting more.

“I love you a helluva lot more,” he looked between your eyes and slowly release you from his hold. “I’ll see you in a minute, gorgeous.”

“You make me swoon,” you tease lightly as you moved around him to exit the room, jokingly glaring at him when he smacked your ass on the way out.

The morning sun continued to stream through the windows as the Weasley family gathered around the kitchen table, the air filled with the tantalizing aroma of Molly’s famous pancakes and Arthur’s perfectly brewed tea. Jane and Henry were already seated in front of their breakfast with the kind of enthusiasm only children could muster, syrup somehow already smeared across their cheeks when their father entered the kitchen.

And indeed, Fred Weasley indeed made you swoon.

When he wandered into the kitchen with the bag you packed for the beach, you felt your face heat up at the sight. He wore his light blue summer shirt that complimented his features beautifully—you honestly weren’t sure if he was a greek statue brought to life.

“Mum, you’re gonna cut into the plate.” Jane giggled and stopped your movements, tilting her head when you snapped your attention back to her food. “What’re you staring at daddy for?”

“Why are you being nosy?” Fred poked his daughter’s back, smiling when she laughed at the familiar feeling. “Mum can stare at me all she wants.”

Fred slid into the seat beside you, his arm casually draped over the back of your chair as he leaned in to whisper, “You know, I could get used to this. Waking up to you, the kids, and a view like that.” He gestured toward the window, where the sparkling Aegean Sea stretched out endlessly, its waves glinting like diamonds under the morning sun.

You smiled, leaning into him slightly. “Ten years of this, and you’re just now getting used to it?” You teased, nudging him with your elbow.

“Ten years of this,” he echoed, his voice softening as his gaze met yours. “And I still can’t believe how lucky I am.”

Jane scrunched her nose in playful disgust, stuffing her mouth with a fork full of pancakes with blueberries. “Ew, Daddy. You’re so mushy.”

Fred gasped dramatically, clutching his chest as if she had wounded him. “Mushy? Me? I’m the definition of ruggedly handsome, Jane.”

Henry, still munching on a piece of cut up banana, giggled and shook his head. “Mum thinks you’re handsome, but you’re just silly.”

You smirked and took a sip of your tea as your kids argued with their father, knowing they were an exact replica of him. You sighed and rested a hand over your stomach, holding back a laugh when Jane stuck her tongue out at Fred.

“I happen to like silly.” You added as Fred stuck his tongue out at his daughter, making you roll your eyes in amusement.

Fred locked eyes with you and waggled his eyebrows. “I guess you're lucky too, love, because you’re stuck with me.”

The morning passed in the easy rhythm of family life—Molly and Arthur doting on their grandchildren, Fred entertaining the twins with wild hand gestures as he retold stories—this time slightly exaggerated for dramatic effect—and you soaking in every moment.

By late morning, you made your way to the beach, the golden sand warm beneath your toes. The twins raced ahead, kicking up tiny clouds of sand as they shrieked with joy. Fred, carrying the beach bag, walked beside you, fingers loosely laced with yours.

“You happy, love?” He asked, squeezing your hand gently.

You turned your face up to the sun, the salty breeze playing with your hair, and sighed contentedly. “More than I ever thought possible.”

Fred grinned and tugged you closer, pressing a kiss to your temple before lifting his voice. “Alright, team! Let’s build a sandcastle bigger than the Burrow!”

Henry and Jane cheered, already digging into the sand with determination.

You knelt beside them as you set up the blanket on the sand, laughter bubbling from your lips as Fred made a show of supervising, hands on his hips like some kind of foreman. The hours passed in golden warmth, filled with playful splashes in the sea, shrieks of delight as Fred tossed the kids into the waves, and soft, stolen kisses between you and your husband when the twins weren’t looking.

As the sun began to dip lower in the sky, casting everything in a golden glow, the four of you sat before your grand sandcastle—an uneven, slightly lopsided but utterly magnificent creation.

Jane leaned against you sleepily, her damp, red-curls sticking to her forehead. “This was the best day ever,” she murmured, yawning.

Henry nodded in agreement, rubbing at his tired eyes. “Yeah… Can we do this every year?”

You glanced at Fred, your heart swelling at the sight of him watching your children with so much love it was almost tangible. He met your eyes and smiled, the same boyish, mischievous grin you’d fallen in love with all those years ago.

“Every single year,” Fred promised, voice full of warmth.

You lean closer to him and give him a quick kiss, eyes shining with your own secret. “Maybe with one more addition to the family,” you whisper.

His eyes widened and looked down toward your stomach, grin widening when you nodded. He pulled you closer to him, in return pulling the sleepy twins along.

And in that moment—with your family nestled together, the waves whispering their lullaby, and the sky painted in fiery shades of orange and pink—you knew that love, real love, was absolutely endless.

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sexy-monster-fucker · 10 months ago

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Tattered

Logan Howlett/Wolverine x Mutant!Reader

Summary: Reader, Wade, and Logan decide to go out in the nearby woods to do some casual training. Once Logan and the Reader get to fight, things get heated and escalate. (Reader has a regenerative power as well)

CW: fighting, stabbing, blood, jealous!Logan, Wade being Wade, choking, biting, fingering, oral f!receiving, unprotected p in v, creampie,

a/n: this is my first time writing for Logan. I am hella excited. Reader has a regenerative power along with super strength and nails that turn into razor sharp claws. Also sorry I don’t proof read, so grammar mistakes I’m sure

~~~

“Fuck— I don’t remember you being this strong!” Wade Wilson, a close friend and teammate of yours, coughed out. You had decided to do some casual training in the nearby woods, giving you all full access to throw down to your full abilities. You pinned him down with your hips, pulling a small knife from your holster. Hovering it above his groin. “Say uncle or you’re gonna be growing Wade Jr. back,” you grinned.

Wade gasped, “Baby Knife? You wouldn’t—“

You began pressing your knife into his pants, breaking the fabric as you inched closer to his favorite asset. “Okay- Okay! Jesus Christ and Mary— UNCLE! There I said it,” Wade held his hands up in between you showing mercy.

A deep chuckle was heard behind you.

Logan Howlett, The Wolverine, stood behind leaned against a tree. Watching as you and Wade fought back and forth for the last thirty minutes. You had taken a liking to Wade’s new roommate. Gruff and stubborn in nature, distant and aloof, but somehow still alluring.

You rolled off Wade, standing and wiping the dirt off your clothes. “When I said I wanted you in my pants, that wasn’t what I had in mind,” Wade stood up behind you. You threw the knife into his thigh, pulling a disapproving groan of agony from him. Silent curse words pouring from his mouth as he pulled the knife out, “I’m keeping this.”

“If you two are done flirting, I think it’s my turn to fight,” Logan smirked at you. He was incredibly handsome. Ever since Wade had came back from the Void with Logan, you had been infatuated. His dark hair, deep voice, everything about him was admirable. Especially right now as you watched him remove his flannel, sporting a white tank top underneath. The veins on his arms popped against the strong muscle. You felt your cheeks heat up.

“Aren’t you a little old to be fighting someone?” You teased as the new 200-year-old from another universe stood before you.

“Oh no, no, no. Me and this guy went at it all night the first time we met,” Wade chimed in. Logan gritted his teeth at him, warning him to watch what he says next.

“All night you say? Sounds like my kind of party,” you stretched your body, preparing to face off with the new guy. You watched Logan roll and pop his neck, stretching out his arms. Admiring his muscular physique.

“He’s got the stamina of a college freshman wired on Redbull and pure sex drive,” Wade patted Logan on the shoulder. Logan held up a fist to Wade’s face, claws extending mere inches from his eyes. “Shut the fuck up. You had your chance to fight, now leave,” he growled at Wade. Wade stomped his foot like a toddler, whining as he spoke, “Whaaaat!? No fair! You got to watch me fight Sexy Mutant Mamma, why don’t I get to watch the two hottest people in our building go at it!” You chuckled at his minor temper tantrum.

“Because you make everything weird! Now get outta here,” Logan held his claws under Wade’s chin pulling a small drop of blood from him. Wade spun on his heal, fists bundled up at his sides as he stomped away into the woods. Grumbling the entire way, “Not fucking fair. Wanted to see their clothes ripped off. Fucking fuck…”

You placed your hands on your hips, standing straight and firm before Logan. “So are we gonna do this or—“ Logan lunged forward at you, catching you off guard slightly. “Holy shit—“ you jumped before he could tackle you to the ground with his first attack. He dug his claws into the ground as he spun around to face where you were now. You opted out of grabbing one of your weapons. Deciding to go in with brute strength instead. You ran towards Logan, fist pulled back preparing to punch him. He grabbed your hand mid punch, twisting your arm. You kicked a leg up hitting him in the ribs. Logan’s claws extended, stabbing you in forearm. You widened your eyes at the three blades puncturing your skin, glaring up at him. You scratched up at him with your razor sharp nails, gashing his tank top and skin. He chuckled out, looking at his blood momentarily. You pushed him away, pulling his blades from your arm.

Your jaw hung open as you stared at him. A shit eating grin on his face. “Wade may be scared of you, but I’m not. I will kick your geriatric ASS,” you dove toward him, cutting at his legs with your hands. Ripping and tearing his jeans as you slashed at his flesh. Logan growled in pain before stabbing you in the back and picking you up over his head. Throwing you onto the ground. You were quick to hop back up to your feet. You caught your breath shaking off the pain you felt. Writhing slightly.

You darted back over to him, kicking at his leg causing him to fall to his knee. You then jumped and kicked him with both feet, throwing him onto his back. “Fuck!” He cursed at you. You climbed on top of him, straddling his waist as you began punching him. You watched as his nose broke just to heal right in front of you. A cocky grin written on your face as Logan’s eyes stared into yours. Almost as if he was enjoying you on top of him. His arm flexed as he stabbed his claws into your thigh. You bared your teeth at him screaming in pain, “Motherfucker!” He lifted his other fist, releasing the claws right in front of your nose. “I’d hate to mess up that pretty face of yours, doll,” he teased. Your cheeks grew hot with embarrassment. Unable to deny how quickly his pet name went to your core. He slashed his claws down your chest, ripping your shirt.

You crawled off him, attempting to get away. “If you wanted to see my boobs that bad you could’ve just asked!” you playfully called back to him. He chased after you on all fours. You threw one of your small knives into his shoulder attempting to slow him down. He grabbed you by the ankle. Falling forward and smashing your jaw into the dirt. You tussled with him, kicking and swatting with claws. Cutting up his arms and shoulders as he tried to pull you back. Bruising strength as his fingers dug into your skin. His eyes were black as he stared at you, a lustful grin on his lips. He jumped forward pinning your body underneath his.

You shared in your panting. His claws dug into the dirt beside your head, the necklace he wore dangling in your face. Sweat beamed on both your bodies. Both of you bearing your teeth at each other. Your panting mouth slowly morphing into a grin, throwing your head back against the dirt stretching out your neck with a sigh. He cocked an eyebrow at you, your eyes darting back to meet his. He leaned down planting a feverish kiss on your lips. Your arms wrapped around his neck as you deepened it. He pulled his claws from the dirt, wrapping his arms around your back and pulling your fronts flush. Sloppy kisses being exchanged between you, teeth clanking together.

Logan leaned back on his knees, holding you in his arms. “You sure do know how to fight, doll,” he cooed as his eyes stared at your chest. “Yeah? You ain’t too bad for a 200-year-old geezer,” you smirked. Logan grinned, raising an eyebrow at your mockery. One of his hands wrapped around your neck, squeezing at it as pushed you back slightly, “You and Wade sure do have one thing in common. Never knowing how to shut your fucking mouths.” You gasped with his hand on your jugular, smiling widely at him. “I definitely like your mouth a lot better,” he leaned in planting a kiss on your lips. Releasing his grip and pushing your hair out of your face. You caught your breath, hooded eyes staring into his hazel ones. His fingers petted through your hair, “Couldn’t stand to see you on top of him like that. Him having his little fucking hands on you.”

You had no idea Logan had felt this way about you. Sure there was flirting, but that was in your nature. You flirted with everyone, you assumed Logan was playing along. Catching him staring at you from time to time. Him lingering in your doorway before you headed into your apartment. Occasional pet names.

“Ooo, Mr. Jealousy,” you teased. He smirked above you. Leaning down and pressing his lips to your throat, sharp canines grazing as he lapped and sucked your skin. You tangled one of your hands in his hair, holding his head in place as he kissed your skin. Gentle moans falling from your lips. His lips trailed to your ear, “Sounds so pretty.” He pulled your lobe between his teeth. He had marked up your entire neck with hickeys and bite marks.

“Gotta make sure when we get back, Fucko knows to keep his hands off you,” Logan purred in your ear. Every inch of your skin was red hot. Arousal decorating your senses as you stared at the man before you. His hardening cock pressing into you through his jeans. You ran your hands down his chest, pulling a softness from him you had not yet seen. Hooking your fingers under his tattered shirt, lifting it over his head and leaving his chest exposed. Glistening torso with some of the firmest abs you had ever seen, hair on every inch. Admiring his body, fingers dancing delicately on the hair on him. Trailing down to his v-line, fingertips finding the cold metal of his large belt buckle.

Logan pulled your lips to his, kissing you like a touch starved man. Hunger painting his movements, teeth grazing your lip. His fingers tangled in your hair holding you so that your lips would not leave his. One hand ghosting down your side, going up under your shirt. Loving how your soft skin contrasted his corse fingers. Finding their place on your breasts, massaging them with his large hands. Pinching at the thin material of your bra, feeling your hardening nipples. You moaned into his mouth with his touch.

Your lips moved down to his neck, nipping at his flesh. Pulling a deep chuckle from him. A soft moan fell from his lips as yours worked down to his clavicle. His hand guided your chin upward, pulling your lips back to his. Fingers finding the button on your pants, undoing them and placing his hand down the front. Fingers massaging your lips, feeling your arousal glisten on his fingers. “Mmm, you’re so wet, baby doll,” he grinned widely. Your body rutted when he dipped his fingers into you. His name a moan from your throat. Thick fingers curled and massaged your insides, his thumb circling your clit.

You dug your fingers into his back as he continued edging you closer and closer. The tips of your claws penetrating his skin, a wince falling from him. “Easy, sweetheart,” Logan cooed. You mumbled sorry, focusing to retract your claws. One of your hands found its way to his bulge. Palming at his hard cock. Logan moaned at your touch, eyes black with lust as his heavy brow stared at you. You smirked, still a complete mess with his fingers inside you. You tugged at the waist of his pants. Pulling a smile from him.

“You wanna see my cock that bad?”

Electricity flooded every inch of your body with his words. “If I say yes will you fuck me?” You smirked at him. A wide grin painted his face. Raising an eyebrow with your words, leaning in to plant a kiss on you. “Mouth,” he jokingly called you between kisses.

Abruptly pulling his hand from your core and pushing you onto your back. You huffed when you hit the hard dirt. Eyes widening at him. Large hands finding the waist of your pants, pulling them down your legs. Ripping your panties off with them leaving your soaked core bare to the air. Legs shaking with anticipation for him. Logan stared at your core, tongue darting out to wet his lips at the sight. Unable to control himself, delving down and immediately flattening his tongue against your core. You arched your back at the sudden sensation. Grinding your hips against his tongue. Lapping at your entrance like it was his last meal.

Climax building its way through every inch of you as his tongue pressed into you. Heavy fingers digging into your thighs. Deep hazel eyes looking up at you from your hips. The look of him pushing you over the edge. Orgasm washing over you. Your body convulsing and heaving as waves of ecstasy engulfed you. Shouting Logan’s name to the sky.

“There ya go, good girl,” Logan encouraged pulling away from your sensitive opening. You leaned your head back, squinting your eyes shut as waves of aftershock washed over you. The sound of a belt buckle hitting the ground pulling your attention back to him. And what a sight it was. Logan’s large cock curved upward right in front of you. A large vein popping out on the underside, the tip swollen and red and leaking with pre-cum, a bundle of hair decorating the area around it. A mouth watering image.

Logan snickered seeing you slack jawed staring at him. Fucking him with your eyes. Hands finding their place on the ground next to either side of your head, cock pressing at your entrance. All that was left of his clothes was that damn necklace. Chain dangling in your face as you admired the handsome, sweat soaked man.

Large hand positioning himself at your entrance, head delving into your walls slightly. Pulling a moan from you. Swirling the tip around causing your body to quiver, pussy still sensitive from your prior orgasm. Even just the tip stretched you as he pressed into you slowly. Soft groans falling from you.

“C‘Mon, I know you can take it,” Logan purred easing himself into you. You squinted your eyes as his cock begged to pry you open. The girth making you fear he’d rip you open. Fully sheathing himself inside your tight walls. His face contorting in absolute pleasure. Adjusting around his girth, thick cock stretching you perfectly. Logan eased his way back before thrusting back in. With each snap of his hips you moaned. Finding a fast pace in you, panting heavy above you.

You leaned forward placing your lips back to his. Tongues exploring each other’s mouths. Exchanging spit as you licked into each other. Teeth hitting as you deepened the kiss. Hands exploring up his chest, dancing up his toned body. Resting on his cheeks. Lust filled eyes staring into each other as he continued inside you. Slack jawed and breathing heavy.

“Perfect pussy,” Logan growled above you. Thumbs caressing his cheeks. A knot building up inside you that begged to come undone around his large cock. Feeling your walls constrict around him as he thrusted. Each movement pushing you closer to the edge.

“Gonna fill you up, doll. Gonna be so full of me,” Logan panted into your ear. His back straightened as one of his hands found its place on your throat. A minor squeeze of flesh between rough fingers. Eyes rolling back into your head as you felt yourself preparing to finish. Thrusts grew sloppy and harsh, sounds of skin smacking together filled the air. Balls smacking into you with each heavy movement. His name spilled from you as you climaxed around him. Logan moaned loudly feeling how you squeezed him. Milking his cum from him. Shooting hot ropes of himself inside you. Hips rutting as he filled you full of his seed.

He remained inside you, feeling the way your pussy still wrapped around him. Occasional squeeze of walls from aftershock. Feeling him go soft inside you. Both of you wincing at the loss of sensation when he pulled out. Catching your breath as Logan helped with your pants. You sat up, admiring him as he got dressed. Logan looked over his shoulder, grinning as he caught you staring. Extending a hand to you and helping you to your feet, pulling you flush against his chest. Hand petting your hair as he leaned in and gave you a kiss. Silently smiling back and forth.

“So who won?” You joked. Logan rolled his eyes, “Don’t push your luck, doll.” You giggled at his response. Logan wrapped an arm around you as you both headed out of the woods. Loving the warmth of his body next to yours.

“Next time I won’t be leaving,” Wade’s cocky grin met you between the trees. Logan gritted his teeth. He stood with both hands on his hips watching the two of you walk toward him in your ripped and blood stained clothes. “Sounded like you guys were really going at it on the ground there. Sounded just like when I’d catch mommy and daddy having their weekly wrestling matches,” Wade raised his eyebrows. Your eyes darted up at his. Wade caught sight of the purple marks on your neck, laughing. “I didn’t know X-Men training gave you bruises on your neck too!” Wade cackled to himself. Wiping a fake tear from his eye as he sucked in a breath. “When’s it my turn for that kind of training, Y/N?”

You both ignored him, walking past him. You gave a good punch to his stomach, knocking the breath out of him. Wade hunched over coughing. Logan leaned down whispering in Wade’s ear, “Jealousy looks good on you, bub.” Dropping a heavy elbow onto his head knocking him to the ground.

Logan hurried his steps to catch up with you, walking beside you as you headed out of the forest. Exchanging smiles as you walked home together.

~~~

[END]

// Thank you so much for reading! I really love the response people had to the idea of this Fic so I’m more than happy to write it! If anyone has requests for Logan or any other characters, send them my way! If you are interested in being tagged in any future Fics, let me know! //

[tags]

@toogaytofunctiondangit ~ @megangovier ~ @darklover06 ~ @castle-of-ruin ~ @akumazwrld ~ @ravenn-darkholme ~ @laweona510 ~ @ivyinthesun ~ @eddiesguitarskills ~ @amandarobertsboyce ~ @urmom02 ~ @ilove-sexydilfsnmilfs ~ @yesi22 ~ @orangehairedbrat ~ @l0sercat ~ @introvertreader20 ~ @shoxji ~ @gingerplague ~ @porflenet

#wolverine #wolverine x reader #logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #deadpool and wolverine #deadpool #hugh jackman #hugh jackman x reader #mcu #marvel #x men #writing #fanfic #sexymonsterfics

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blindmagdalena · 1 year ago

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Night Terrors

1.6k homelander x reader. established relationship. pure comfort fic. remaster of this old prompt. very mild spoilers for s4 if you squint. mostly just wanted to self-soothe with some comfort/cuddle fic. gif credit.

It's been decades since Homelander last stepped foot in The Bad Room, but when he wakes from a nightmare of it in your shared bed, it's as if he never left.

Most of the nights you spend with Homelander are peaceful.

Tonight is not most nights.

The scream that wakes you from a dead sleep is guttural, barely human. Homelander is sitting upright, frenzied and wild-eyed, the ocean blue of them obscured by crimson glow. You're not even sure that he sees you through it when he looks at you. He's panting like he just ran a marathon, and the comforter is ripped cleanly in half, the two sides strewn on either side of him. "John," you call softly, reaching out to touch his arm, but he jerks away from your hand like you've burned him. "Don't fucking touch me," he hisses, wrapping his arms around himself. Sometimes he is small during these fits, curled in on himself, begging you to make it stop. Not tonight. Tonight he is another self, spitting rage and violence through remembered agony. A cornered animal. "I'll fucking kill you!" "John," you say again, pleading. You know he isn't talking to you. He's speaking to the ghosts of his past. "You're in our bed. You're with me. I would never hurt you. I love you, John." His name is a double-edged sword. It cuts clean through to something at the core of him in a way that “Homelander” doesn’t. Each use of it acts like a shock to his irregulated system.

You keep your hands outstretched, but you don't touch him. You show him that you aren't holding anything. Not a pen, not a notepad, not a needle. You show that you don't mean him any harm.

God knows he's suffered enough. With the sound of your voice, the red glow of his eyes gradually dims, flickers, and then finally it goes out entirely. He's still panting, hands moving slowly down his arms, his torso, checking himself for injury. Though his body bears no scars of the pain he’s endured, his mind knows exactly where each one of them would be. Bit by bit, you watch him come back to himself. He looks around the room, taking in the evidence of your truth. Framed photos, décor, the life you’ve built together. It isn't a concrete dungeon. It isn’t a lab. It isn’t an incinerator. It's home. "Fuck," he says quietly, hiccupping the word into his palm. He says it again, louder, screwing his glassy eyes shut. The third time he says it, it's nearly a sob. It’s agony to wait, but you don’t touch him before he’s ready. You fist the bedsheets, you don’t stop talking. I’m here. I’m right here. I love you. You’re safe. You’re not sure if it’s minutes or seconds before he reaches for you. All you know is you act immediately. You move swiftly up on your knees, climbing over the ruined blankets to take him into your arms, pulling his head to rest against your chest, bringing his ear close to the beat of your heart. You hush him while you work to unstick the words from your throat, unable to help the tears that well in your eyes.

The fear and misery in him is so palpable, you nearly feel as if it’s your own. He wraps his arms around you without hesitation, pulling you to sit sideways in his lap as he weeps against you. It's taken a long time to reach this point. He used to swallow it back like bile, adamant for the longest time that you not see this side of him, this aspect of himself that he thinks ugly, imperfect, broken. You fought for this. As you hold him through these bone-deep sobs, it shatters you that it's taken him this long for him to find someone who would. "You're safe," you whisper, battling to keep the tears from your voice. "You're home. You're with me. You're safe. I love you so, so much." He rocks back and forth, choking on his sobs. “I could feel it,” he tells you, the words barely escaping the clench of his teeth. “It hurt. Every second of it, and they just–they all just watched.”

You close your eyes, tears rolling down your cheeks and disappearing into the softness of his hair. You kiss the crown of his head again and again, combing your fingers through his hair where it’s damp with sweat and your own tears. “You’re safe now,” you whisper, swallowing the lump in your throat. It isn’t enough, but these words and touches are all you have to offer him against the torment of his childhood.

His grip on you tightens. It wouldn’t take much for him to snap you in half.

That scare you? He’d asked you once. How easily I could break you?”

No, you admitted. It makes me appreciate how hard you try not to. It takes time for his breathing to even out. His hold softens, but he doesn't relinquish you. For as terrible as the nightmares are, it's the shame he experiences in the aftermath that often requires the most care.

You rub firm circles on his back with one hand while cradling the back of his head with the other, trailing butterfly kisses along his temple, his forehead, down to his cheek. Any part of him you can reach, you kiss, murmuring quiet assurances in between, as if to imbue him with each word. Eventually, the rocking stops. He's breathing more steadily now, arms encircled firmly around your waist. He gives a shaking sigh. "Sorry," he whispers, voice strained. That's a word in his vocabulary that rarely comes up, but when it does, it is always drenched in shame. He hates himself for this. "Don't," you whisper, carding your fingers through his hair. You sniff back your tears, letting out a breath. "I asked for this. I begged you for this," you emphasize, earnest. You cup his face, angling him to look up at you. "Let me do this for you. Please. You have nothing to be ashamed of." He stares at you with large, watery blue eyes. The whites are red, strained by the force of his grief, his durability tested only by his own power. In his gaze you see damage done to him that may never heal, but your words settle over invisible scars like a soothing balm. It’s that very look of vulnerability that has driven you to this depth of love. You know his violence, his viciousness, but so too do you know the fragile man it protects.

Most of all, the scared boy beneath it all.

His grip on you flexes, his jaw clenched. The nature of your insight into him is both a blessing and a curse to him. He cannot hide from you. You know his shame, and despite how deeply he needs your compassion, your understanding, it’s something he has to bleed for every time. He’s perpetually torn between his desperation to be your perfect hero, and his soul-deep yearning to be safely vulnerable.

If you have to, you'll spend the rest of your life convincing him that he can have both.

Finally, his shoulders sag. "I love you," he says, quietly defeated by your warmth. "I'll never hurt you. Ever." You recognize the plea in his words. He's terrified that someday it will be too much. You’ll see what everyone else sees, and your love will be tainted–destroyed–by your inevitable fear of him. You hope one day that he’ll understand why that will never happen. Someday the depths of your love will soak in as deep as the misery of his past, and he’ll be able to forgive himself for the human way his god’s heart bleeds. "I know. I know that.” You kiss the top of his head, still rubbing his back, taking your hand away only to swipe the tears from your face. “I love you, too. Every part of you."

Even the parts you hate. Gingerly, he lifts you just enough to lay you back down on the bed. He wastes no time cuddling back in against you, burrowing his face into the crook of your neck. The bedding is ruined, but he runs warm enough that you hardly notice the absence of cover while he’s holding you. Your legs tangle with his, bodies slotting together easily. He nuzzles as if he can worm his way closer than skin to skin. If you could, you’d open your ribcage to welcome him inside. He could eat your heart if it kept his beating another day.

"Will you... talk me to sleep?" He asks, threads of shame lingering in the request. The tension has drained away, leaving him vulnerable and exhausted. His blinks are slow, the curve of his lips mournful. "Of course," you whisper, smoothing your hand up and down his back. This isn’t the first time you’ve talked him back to sleep, and you doubt it’ll be the last. Sometimes you tell him the plot of a book as best you can recall, other times it's random anecdotes from your life. Sometimes it's complete nonsense. To him, it doesn't matter what you say. All that matters is that when he does finally drift back into sleep, it's your voice that safeguards him there.

Gladly, he rests his head back down on your chest, closing his eyes with a rumbling sigh while your nails drag along his scalp. You cradle him there, savoring the warmth of him as it seeps into the marrow of your bones, the weight of him grounding you.

You tell him stories until sleep finds him. Even then, you continue to speak until your voice frays and you can no longer keep your eyes open. You speak and speak and speak hoping that somehow, in some small way, you can help make up for the years he spent with only his own voice for comfort.

#homelander x reader #homelander headcanons #homelander x you #homelander fanfiction #my writing #x reader #homelander #fluff #angst

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smuttysabina · 11 months ago

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Tropical Passions with Lisa

(Lisa x Male Reader, 5.3k Words) Tags: Incest with your older sister Lalisa; A conflicted sibling relationship; A forceful start to the sex; Makeup sex; Creampies; Virgin sex; Getting deflowered by your hot older sister is fun; Blowjob; Intimate sex; Technically some cucking going on; Written in one sitting; Step-sibling sex is for cowards, make them blood related; A wholesome and loving conclusion

You had always hated your older sister Lalisa. She had constantly hogged your parents' and peers' attention, gorging herself on their praise while your own achievements had been duly ignored; and of course, she had been an unrepentant slut. It was a rare night that your sleep had not been uninterrupted by the sounds of Lisa fucking some lover of any gender, her bed creaking so badly she required a new one every year, how she managed to remain unimpregnated was beyond you. Naturally, growing up with such a whore of a sister had caused you to follow the complete opposite path, so while she had ascended to sex-drenched idol-hood, you had instead quietly completed school and gotten yourself a pure and sweet girlfriend. Not that you had done anything yet. Sex before marriage? Appalling! Public displays of affection? Disgusting! Mutual Masturbation? Nauseating! Hand holding, fingers locked? Perverse! Only the chastest of kisses, and wholesome hugs were allowable, and it brought you no small amount of joy that she wholeheartedly agreed with you. So it infuriated you to no end that you were unable to bring her along with you on yet another family vacation to some tropical retreat, no doubt your parents were overly worried about how she would react to your harlot of a sister, but you looked forward to seeing her again. You just had to make it through dealing with whatever mindless debaucheries your big sister Lisa had cooked up for this trip...

Awareness comes slowly to you, reality slowly bleeding into your dreams as you gradually become aware of your surroundings, your nerves tingling as they lazily report upon the myriad sensations assaulting them. The exquisite softness of the sheets encasing you, the gentle cold air of the AC caressing your face, the burning sensitivity of your staggering erection digging into the mattress, and the strange patch of warmth in the bed beside you. You start, flinching away from the person curled up mere inches from you, scooting to the edge of the mattress as they groan softly in protest. Lisa blearily raises her head up from her pillow, squinting at you in confusion before collapsing back onto it and letting out an indignant whine, wriggling to find a comfortable position before falling back asleep. Your heart hammering, you slip carefully out of bed, doing your best not to disturb your sister, all the while cursing your parents for forcing you to share a room with her, this was certainly not helping you two bond. The fact that there was only bed was a further annoyance, it was a huge one to be sure, but Lisa seemed to unconsciously seek out heat in her sleep and latch onto her target like a leech, so in reality you ended up far closer together than you would have liked. Which made dealing with your morning wood all the more awkward, since you were loath to masturbate, your member tended towards truly spectacular erections come the dawn, urging you to give in to your vile thoughts and pleasure it. Ignoring your disgustingly drooling penis was difficult at the best of times, but with the scent of a woman in your nostrils, no matter that she was your sister, made resisting your wicked meat nearly unbearable. Every morning you would cover it in an ice-cold washcloth, but even then it would defiantly stand strong for many minutes before ungraciously retreating. Needless to say, your testicles were in constant agony.

After dealing with your unwanted visitor, you check your phone, lovingly responding to your girlfriend's messages before learning that your parents once again had skipped off on some early morning jaunt and would only be back by evening. So, yet another day you would have to spend solely in the company of your whore sister, wonderful. Though, to be fair to Lisa, you had yet to see her engage in her usual wanton behaviour, you did not doubt for a moment that she had been busy messing around while you were not looking. With a resigned sigh you order breakfast, spend the next hour idly munching upon it, waiting for your sister to finally get her lazy ass out of bed. Eventually she stirs, and yawning a good morning she stumbles into the bathroom, not bothering to close the door as usual so you are forced to listen as she voids her bladder. Lisa plops down into the chair across from you with a smile, wearing little more than an overly large shirt and her underwear, an outfit which makes perfect sense considering the heated locale. Cheerfully devouring some fruit, she kindly asks if you had any ideas what you wanted to do today? After all, yesterday you two had such a great time at the aquarium, Lisa hadn't seen you that excited in years! In the face of such relentless enthusiasm you give in, and tentatively raise the idea of going snorkeling together? Beaming, your sister happily agrees.

You had always felt somewhat disgusted whenever your sister had worn something showy, a natural reaction for a sibling to have, but also one born out of disapproval of her loose living. Still, you grudgingly had to admit that Lisa looked absolutely stunning in her yellow bikini, no wonder so many men were desperately enthralled by her. Her tanned skin gorges upon the sunlight, the dappled reflection of the water only serving to enhance her beauty, even with the giant goggles and snorkel goofily attached to her face she still turned heads as you strode deeper into the surf together. She even held your hand as she guided you into the ocean, something you could barely tolerate, yet over the past few days, and against your better judgement, you had felt yourself warming up to your benighted sister, but just a little bit. You get a faceful of Lisa's ass as she smoothly switches from walking to swimming, and a slight tingling fills your groin; perhaps you should not grow too relaxed around this slut lest you be corrupted... But the next few hours pass in a delightfully wholesome fashion, the pair of you leisurely swimming along the reef and admiring the reefs and flourishing wildlife; it was almost enough to make you forget what a whore Lisa was.

It was only later that day though, that the old Lisa you knew so well started to shine through this charade she was putting on. You were relaxing in a small, shaded pool, secluded by shrubbery with your sister curled up intimately close to you, chatting idly about how the day had gone when she finally pops the question. Wearing the sly grin universal to older siblings everywhere, Lisa asks, "So, tell me about this girlfriend of yours, is she cute?" Blood rushes to your face immediately as you sputter at the sudden inquiry, which only makes your sister's smile grow ever more predatory. She squishes herself against your side, throwing an arm around your shoulder and cooing, "Don't be shy, show me a picture of her, c'mon!" Flustered, you haltingly pull up a picture of you beloved on your phone for Lisa to hem and haw at appreciatively, her eyes flicking all over the screen as she judges her in a thousand minute ways before nodding in approval, "She looks pretty enough, has she been treating you well?", Lisa gives you a knowing smirk, "How is she in bed?" A surge of outrage fills you as you angrily inform your dear sister that you and your girlfriend had not engaged in any such foul activities, nor would you be until you were happily! Lisa gawps at your outburst, cold fury crossing her face before giving way to worry, "Is it... not working for you two in bed," she places a hand on your thigh in support, mere inches away from a bulging pressure in your shorts, "Are you... unable to get it up with her?" You repay her honest concern with open scorn, grumbling angrily, you surge up out of the cozy pool and storm off back to your room, leaving Lisa yelling platitudes at your retreating back. Really, she really just did not understand!

Lisa watches her baby brother stomp away with hurt roiling in her stomach, what the fuck was wrong with him? Well, she partially knew, honestly how could she not feel more than a little guilty about being an awful older sister growing up? Being the village bicycle had satisfied her powerful sexual needs, but it had no doubt given her brother all sorts of unwanted pressure and attention. Of course, once she had become an idol, her sexual appetites had grown voracious, and no doubt embarrassing to her younger sibling back home, but she had always made sure to try and send gifts to cheer him up. Instead he seemed to loathe Lisa, and no matter how hard she tried to patch things up, things always fell apart, usually whenever he caught her slaking her desires with some new lover. But not on this trip! No, on this trip Lisa had been on her best behaviour, applying every ounce of her willpower to keep her lusts in check, engaging in only the most innocently enjoyable activities with her brother; displaying nary a glimpse of her usual sex life. In spite of that, he had been downright weird since he had gotten here, well, more so than usual. She had expected the customary puritanical song and dance, but with him having a girlfriend for a couple years now, she had hoped he would have opened up a little. But no, instead if anything he seemed even more repressed than normal, getting hard constantly and always on edge about everything. He was leaking so much at night Lisa could smell his precum staining the sheets in the morning, and she was honestly surprised his raging erection had not torn a hole in his boxers whenever he scrambled out of bed to use the restroom. Hell, he hadn't masturbated even once since they had gotten to this tropical paradise, most guys would have blown a few loads in the shower and dispelled the tension, if anything Lisa was not sure if he had cum even a week before the trip!

The constant reek of pent up semen in their room was starting to get to Lisa, she was already feeling twitchy, having deprived herself of sexual stimulation for so long, this was probably the most days she had gone without fucking in years. She really should take her own advice and at least masturbate, but the last thing she wanted was her brother sheepishly returning to apologize only to find her knuckle deep inside herself, so she endured. Still, something was obviously wrong in her little brother's relationship, and she was determined to fix it; after all, even as warped as she had become, she still felt responsible for him as his older sister. But first, Lisa needed some advice, and not from the other girls in Blackpink. Jisoo would give some well-meaning yet ultimately useless suggestions, Rose would offer up some complicated scheme that would really just be a front for sadism, and Jennie would simply message 'On my way', before showing up and traumatically fucking the life out of your brother in under half an hour after landing. No, Lisa needed to ask some of her more.... normal friends; well, relatively normal. Minutes later she was chatting avidly on the phone with Jihyo and Nayeon, both of whom were appalled by the situation their dear friend was in. Jihyo was apoplectic that Lisa's brother was not putting such potent loads to good use and impregnating his girlfriend, while Nayeon was practically drooling at the thought of being the first one to receive said load. But after a solid hour of intense conversation, the trio had produced a solution that would undoubtedly solve Lisa's darling brother's problems. It would merely require Lisa to break one of society's oldest taboos, but having broken so many already, what was one more?

You feel thoroughly wretched as you lay upon the massive king bed, your sister had been only showing you concern, and yet you had brutally rebuffed her kindness. Normally it was so easy to hate Lisa, you would only need to turn a corner while fetching ice and find her being publicly spitroasted by strangers like some sort of cheap whore, but this time at least there had been none of that. She had been the sweetest older sister a brother could ask for, constantly indulging him, taking him to see all the sights and lavishing him with love and attention; it made you uneasy. Surely Lisa was hiding something, some depraved scheme that she was enjoying while being outwardly wholesome, it had happened before, more than a few times actually. But this time she had seemed genuine, which only left you all the more conflicted, were you the one in the wrong this time? Your morose musings are halted only when Lisa enters the room, who quietly joins you on the bed, patting you reassuringly on the shoulder, "Hey, I'm sorry if I upset you earlier today, why don't we have an early night okay? I'm sure things will be better in the morning." Mulishly, you nod in assent, and slowly join her for a simple dinner at the small table, which passes by in awkward silence. Lisa only speaks up as you get into bed, "Leave your shirt off, I think something is wrong with the AC, it feels really stuffy in here..." She's right, so with reticence you take it off, and snuggle in under the covers as Lisa joins you in bed. She gives your forehead a kiss, "I love you baby brother," before flicking off the light. Perhaps the morning would heal your rift?

Once again you awaken with an inconveniently large erection impaling the mattress, with a now-familiar hot spot behind you. Groggily, you attempt to wriggle out of bed to douse your morning's embarrassment once more, but find your way barred by an arm thrown around your chest. Your confusion only grows as you realize the heat from your sleeping sister was not from her laying nearby you, but rather because she was pressed up against you, with two hard points supported by surprising softness pushing into your back. Unable to process this development, you attempt to escape Lisa's clutches, but her arm holds you tight against her warm body, and your struggles only serve to wake her up. Your big sister stretches languidly against you, which only serves to emphasize what exactly her supple form feels like as it slides against your skin; you were not the only one going shirtless it seems. You feel a perverse fascination with the sensation of Lisa's breasts, and are distracted enough that when she casually pushes onto your back and slips atop you, you offer little resistance. She gives you a sleepy smile, her face mere inches away from your own, and gives you a kiss, "Good morning baby brother, it's time to make things better..." Displeasure wells up within you once more, and you tartly ask for her to get off you, and to put some clothes on. Lisa laughs gently at this and sits up, allowing the sheets to cascade down her smooth body, revealing her perky tits, the lighter skin making the dark of her erect nipples stand out all the more; and further down... Further down the bare skin of her thick pussy lips squishes against your gargantuan hardon, the warmth of her sex burning against your shaft. You stare up in shock at your older sister's nude body, as she patiently allows you to drink in the sight of her, before sliding her hands up your chest, "Are you ready for it? Just relax, and let your big sister do all the work."

Belated realization finally hits your brain hard enough to dispel the fog of arousal filling it, and you snarl in denial at Lisa, get the fuck off of you! But your sibling ignores your demands, and when you try to push her away she catches your hands and pins you down with surprising strength; as she frowns in annoyance, "Fuck, calm down! I am sick and tired of your weird chastity bullshit, it's not normal, so I'm going to take some responsibility as your older sister and fix things," Moving your hands above your head so she can keep them down with one of hers, she smoothly reaches down and pulls out your filthy dick, which drools disgustingly in excitement. Running a finger through the bubbling precum, Lisa seductively licks it clean, before giving you a sharp look, "Wait, when was the last time you came? Just how pent up are you?" Flushing with impotent fury and embarrassment, you answer truthfully, it had been two weeks since your treacherous manhood had last filled your sheets while you slept. Your sister shakes her head incredulously, "Yeah, that is fucking weird, you have a cute girlfriend, use her you moron; or just masturbate like a normal guy!" Lisa sighs, "Okay, let's do this, time to get your cherry popped little brother!" Regaining her usual cheer, your sibling ignores your struggles as you writhe and buck beneath her, her panties shoved into your mouth to stifle your continuous screams of outrage, as she slowly lines herself up. Your older sister gives you the sweetest smile, "I love you," before taking your virginity.

The sordid heat of Lisa's cunt engulfs your sensitive member, its soft folds slobbering all over your shaft as it devours every inch of you until her lower lips kiss your crotch. You groan in despair as your innocence is lost, you had intended that your first time be with your beloved on the night of your marriage, but instead your slut of a- Your body abruptly silences your internal raging as it floods your brain with pleasure, responding to the overwhelming and novel stimulation coming from your cock, it reacts naturally. You groan as your hips slam treacherously upwards, and the fattest load of your life explodes into your sister, richly rewarding her pussy for taking your virginity. Lisa lets out a soft gasp as you creampie her, she had barely even sat on your dick and you were already cumming in her; she smirks, virgins always finished so quickly. She opens her mouth to congratulate you, then pauses and glances down, where your balls continue to pulse; slowly, she slides herself back up your shaft as you gradually fill her pussy with your seed. Post-coital bliss wrestles with horrid guilt, as the catastrophic euphoria of your orgasm fades, remorse stabbing at you for so enjoying being forcibly assaulted by your own sister. Lisa meanwhile is ogling as she tentatively pokes at her sloppy holes, even filled to the brim she was barely leaking, "Fuck, just how much did you cum in me? If this was your girlfriend, she would be knocked up for sure; shit, this might be enough to be risky even for me!" She reaches down to pat your cheek affectionately, "But see, that wasn't so hard was it, didn't it feel so nice just letting it all out? So now that you're nice and drained we..." your older sister trails off as she glances down at your still rock-hard erection, "Oh."

Lisa lets out an astonished giggle as she teases you, "Wow, just how badly do you want to fuck your sister?" Then she stops, and gives you a quizzical look, "Wait, is that it? Is that why you've been so moody around me all this time?" You growl angrily up at her, and she winces as she remembers your gag, once removed however, you fervently deny her claims, while a creeping horror fills you as a little voice in your head agrees with her. But no matter what lies your mouth might say, your cock was entirely truthful as it lets out another leak of precum, beyond eager to be inside of your sister once more. An awkward silence falls as you both stare at your engorged manhood, before looking at one another for a time. Lisa's face crumples as she sobbingly embraces you, holding you tight as ugly tears course down her face, "Oh, you silly idiot, you should have told me! You've spent all these years watching everyone else have their turn with your big sister, but never you! Fuck, I should have known you would be jealous! I'm so sorry for being such a failure of a big sister!" Tentatively, you delicately bring you arms around Lisa, torn between shoving her off of you, or accepting that she may very well be right. Were you so violently against any hint of sexuality because you felt that your sister had spurned your unnoticeable advances while growing up; was that why you loathed her, out of fury at being denied? Your doubts shrink as Lisa kisses you once more, the wetness from her tears anointing your cheeks as her tongue pushes deep into your mouth, sloppily making out with you before pulling back. She gives you a loving smile, "Don't worry, your big sister will take responsibility for this, I'll fix things I promise!"

Beaming, your older sister sits on your cock once more, but this time Lisa was intent on not stopping until you were fully satisfied. You both moan as your member pushes through the goopy remains of your last load, and you share a knowing look; this well and truly was incest now, and it felt so right. Your sibling holds your hands as she rides you, eschewing her more showy techniques for a more primal slamming; your wildly bucking hips would have ruined any complex movements. Semen sprays everywhere as your ferocious sex expels it from Lisa's pussy, making an absolute mess as it drizzles over your skin. Your sister groans, "Fuck, no wonder you were pumping the sheets full of precum every morning, it must have been torture for you to be so close to me yet unable to relieve yourself," she gives you a wicked grin, "But now you can pump your sister full every morning instead!" The perverse thought of fucking your own sister for the rest of your trip fills you with excitement, and you swiftly grasp her petite waist to hold her steady as you pound away at her sopping cunt. Lisa's eyes roll back as she lets you have your way with her, her pussy spasming in anticipation of your next load, her hands hurriedly putting her hair into a messy bun to get it out of her face. Grunting, you creampie your older sister once more, slathering her folds with thick semen as she climaxes from the sordid pleasure of getting pumped full of cum by her baby brother. Shuddering, the pair of you makeout as your cock softens, but it is quick to surge back into full rigidity as Lisa idly rocks back and forth atop you, "Again?" she asks with a perceptive smirk.

You pump between Lisa's supple thighs with virginal passion as your sister simply lays back and takes it. Her legs wrap tightly around your waist as her hands roam your back and chest, spurring you on as you slam deep inside of her, "Oh fuck yes baby," Lisa gasps "It's your turn now, you've watched everyone else take their turn with your big sister, but she's all yours now!" You kiss her fiercely in response, as you unceasingly plow a furrow in your own sibling, your balls drenched with your congealed sexual fluids. Lisa shudders as she climaxes once more, her folds greedily massaging your shaft as you continue to fuck through her orgasm. You bite and suckle upon her neck as she holds you close, urging you on, "God, don't stop little brother, just keep fucking me until your drained! I don't care how nasty you want it, your big sister will do anything to satisfy you, I promise!" You take her up on that, as you feel your next load churning through your balls you abruptly pull out of the warm confines of your sister's pussy, before hurriedly scooting forward to shove your leaking cock into her face. Lisa knows exactly what to do, and opens her mouth in invitation as locks eyes with you, nodding encouragingly as you furiously stroke the cum out of your cock. Groaning, you jizz on your sister's face, the same face that was plastered on billboards and advertisements around the world, was now getting painted with fat ropes of your semen. Lisa doesn't blink, even when your salty load splashes against her eye, lovingly staring up at you as you cover her million-dollar face with your seed.

Lisa stops you from retreating, and with affectionate care cleans your cock off with her mouth, diligently sucking the dregs of your load out of you; before simply sucking on you for the fun of it. You quiver as your older sister gives you your first blowjob, her tongue skillfully caressing the underside of your member, as her naughty lips wrap tightly around your shaft. The sensation left you giddy, and Lisa's eye's narrow with satisfaction as she notes your obvious pleasure as she slurps up and down your length. But like any boy, you wanted to go deeper, and your sister was more than happy to oblige you. You moan loudly as Lisa deepthroats you, holding onto her bobbing head for support as you struggle to stay upright; gasping her name as she skillfully works your next load out of you. The pressure becomes unbearable, and you nearly collapse as you fill your older sister's mouth with your cum, streamers of semen even spewing directly into her stomach as she takes your spasming cock to the hilt; her salacious tongue hard at work coaxing your balls. Lisa doesn't even bother to wipe off the jizz drying on her face after you finish clogging her mouth with sperm, she can tell how much it arouses you.

You would have thought you would be satisfied by all that, but your bulging erection said otherwise. Giggling, Lisa merrily allows you to bend her over, hoisting her ass into the air and arching and spreading her cheeks to reveal your sloppy seconds leaking out of her gaping lower lips. Perverse pride permeates through you at the sight of your sister's cunt crammed full of your seed, how often had you seen someone else's load drooling out of your sister? But now she was yours, you had placed your own claim on her pussy, and you were eager to continue doing so. You shiver with barely controlled excitement as you grab her surprisingly curvy hips, you realized now how much your sister's perky ass aroused you, your cock head already glistens with precum when you push into the sloppy mess inside of Lisa. Who smirks as she feels you enter her, she can feel how eager you were to fuck her from behind just from how you penetrated her, and she knows exactly what her little brother wants, "Mhmm that's it, I bet you've been waiting to fuck me doggy this whole time, every guy does," her smile grows smug as she feels your dick stiffen, "I just love showing it off, I'm sure all your friends were blasting fat loads to my ass all the time..." she abruptly twists backwards and lovingly touches your cheek, "But now it's your turn to give your sister a good pounding, so don't hold back, okay? Lisa blows you a kiss, and moments later you are fervently fucking your older sister as if your life depended on it, who obligingly curls back down into her sharp arch to better pleasure her little brother's cock. You plow Lisa's perky butt, her cheeks slapping loudly against your skin as you work out yet another urge that had festered in your heart for years; this time, Lisa's ass was yours. Lust burns through you as you jackhammer your slut of a sister, the sheer eroticism of finally fulfilling your darkest fantasies driving you to orgasm faster than you anticipated. Howling your sister's name, your balls exert themselves once more and douse your sibling's cunt with sperm, who squeals in delight as she revels in the sensation of being filled, "Fuck yes! Fill your big sister up, cum in me, breed me!"

It was that last phrase that had you thrusting away again even before you had finished recovering from your climax, gritting your teeth as you force your tiring cock to rise to the occasion once more. Lisa looks back at you in bemusement, curious as to your sudden second wind, until she realizes, "Oh... does breeding me excite you that much," she giggles in delight, "You dirty pervert, it isn't enough to just fuck your older sister, you want to impregnate me as well?" Your increased pace is all the answer she needs, and Lisa ponders it for a moment before giving you an enormous and degenerate smile, "Why not? If you manage to knock me up, I'll keep it, it's the least your big sister can do... wait did you just cum in me again? Lisa laughs as she feels your cock spasming inside of her, "Fuck, you really want to put a baby in my belly don't you? At this rate even an idol like me might get fertilized!" Perversely, you feel yourself getting hard once more, your older sister was right, the thought of knocking her up aroused you immeasurably; but she stops you before you can continue fucking her, "Hey! Let it settle in me, how is the sperm supposed to reach me if you keep fucking it out of me? Why don't we switch holes for a little bit," Lisa smirks as she feels your manhood become nearly as stiff as it had been at the start, "Yes baby brother, you can use my asshole as much as you like!" You groan as urgently mount your older sister's tight asshole, you fucking love your sister, Lalisa!

Lisa purrs contently as she strokes her younger brother's hair as he sleeps soundly upon her tender breasts, his semen drying inside both of her holes. The familiar ache of her over-used body soothes her, she hadn't expected her sibling to have as voracious a sexual appetite as her, but she had certainly enjoyed it. But as his big sister, she still had some work to do while her dear boy peacefully slumbered, so humming quietly to herself, she gets to work. First she informs her friends of her success, Jihyo is already enthusiastically hoping her egg gets fertilized, while Nayeon is frothing at the mouth with jealousy for such a spectacular deflowering. Next she uses her brother's phone to send his girlfriend some select clips from the recording she had made of their coupling (Her brother could be so oblivious sometimes, how did he not notice her phone pointing at them the entire time!), cheerfully informing her what happened as well as telling her that she expected at least five nieces and nephews to spoil rotten. An hour later, his phone pings, and she enjoys a minute-long video of the "pure and innocent" girl squirting wildly to the sight of her boyfriend fucking his sister; no doubt she would be getting pumped full of cum within an hour of the couple reuniting. Finally, Lisa muses upon the enormity of what she had just done, she had forced herself upon her own brother, and engaged in depravedly incestous sex with him, oh and there was a very slight chance she might be carrying his baby as well. She was sopping wet at the thought of doing it again and again for the next week.

Lisa was looking forward to not leaving their room for the rest of the trip...

#smut #kpop smut #blackpink smut #lisa smut #Lalisa smut #Lisa fanfic

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isak-dot-gov · 3 months ago

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The Story of Tonight

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Theatre Kid!Reader

Word count: 1175

Summary: When you land the lead role of Eliza in Hamilton, you excitedly tell her girlfriend, Paige, expecting support. Instead, she dismisses it as “just a college play”.

Your hands trembled as you refreshed your email for the hundredth time that day. Rehearsing your audition piece had been nerve-wracking enough, but waiting for the results? That was pure agony.

When your phone finally dinged with a new message, your breath caught in your throat.

"Dear [Y/N], congratulations! You have been cast as Eliza Hamilton in our upcoming production of Hamilton!"

For a moment, you just stared at the words, hardly believing them. Then, excitement exploded in your chest, and a loud squeal escaped your lips. You got it. You actually got the lead role!

There was only one person you wanted to tell first.

You practically sprinted across campus, ignoring the odd looks from passing students as you made your way to the gym. The familiar sound of sneakers squeaking against hardwood and basketballs bouncing filled the air as you stepped inside.

Paige was on the court, casually sinking three-pointers while talking with Ice and Nika. You grinned, bouncing on your feet, waiting for her to notice you.

“Paige!” you called, barely able to contain your excitement.

She turned at the sound of your voice, a lazy smile forming. “Hey, babe.”

“I got the role!” you practically shouted, unable to hold it in any longer. “I’m playing Eliza in Hamilton!”

Paige nodded, tossing the basketball back to Ice before looking at you again. “Oh, nice. That’s cool.”

You blinked, waiting for more.

That was it?

“Cool?” you echoed, your excitement faltering slightly.

“Yeah,” Paige shrugged. “I mean, I figured you’d get it. You’re always singing those songs anyway.”

Your heart sank. You had expected her to be excited, maybe even lift you up in celebration like she did after a big win. But instead, she just… dismissed it.

“I thought you’d be more excited,” you admitted, forcing a small laugh.

“I am happy for you,” Paige said, pecking your cheek before picking up the ball again. “But it’s just a college play, right? I don’t really get why it’s such a big deal.”

You froze.

Just a college play?

This wasn’t just some hobby you did for fun. Theatre was your passion. You had worked so hard for this moment, and Paige just brushed it off like it was nothing.

Your stomach twisted uncomfortably, but you didn’t want to start a fight in front of her teammates.

“Right,” you muttered, forcing a small smile. “Just a play.”

Paige didn’t even notice the way your shoulders slumped as you turned and walked away.

For the next few weeks, you poured your heart into rehearsals. You learned the choreography, memorized every line, and perfected your vocals until your throat was sore. Every single day, you gave everything you had to this performance.

At first, you still tried to tell Paige about it.

You’d excitedly recount your progress, talk about the incredible energy of the cast, or hum a new harmony you’d learned. But Paige always responded with the same half-hearted nods, sometimes distracted by her phone, other times stretching out after practice.

Eventually, you stopped bringing it up.

Then, one evening, after another long rehearsal, you sat beside her on the couch, cautiously bringing up the upcoming performances.

“So… opening night is next Friday,” you started. “I was wondering if you could come?”

Paige barely looked up from her phone. “I don’t think I can. I’ve got practice.”

Your heart clenched. “Your practices are in the morning. The shows are at night.”

“Yeah, but I’ll probably be too tired,” she replied with a shrug. “I’ll try to catch them if I can.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, nodding stiffly.

“Yeah. Sure.”

Paige didn’t even notice how hurt you were.

Closing night arrived quicker than you expected. You should have been excited—this was your moment, the culmination of weeks of hard work.

But there was a weight in your chest.

Paige had missed every performance so far. She hadn’t even asked how things were going. Part of you had held onto the slim hope that she’d surprise you, show up one night and tell you she was proud of you.

But deep down, you knew she wouldn’t.

What you didn’t know was that Jana, Azzi, and Caroline had been working behind the scenes.

They had managed to secure tickets for the entire UConn women’s basketball team, determined to show up and support you—even if Paige wouldn’t.

“You actually got everyone to come?” Ice asked as they filed into the theater.

Jana grinned. “Damn right I did.”

Everyone was buzzing with excitement—except Paige. She crossed her arms, looking unimpressed.

“I still don’t get why this is such a big deal,” Paige muttered.

Jana turned to her, exasperated. “Are you serious right now?”

Azzi shook her head. “Paige, she’s your girlfriend. This is important to her.”

“She’s always at your games, cheering you on,” Caroline added. “Why can’t you do the same for her?”

Paige opened her mouth to argue but stopped.

They were right.

She had been so wrapped up in her own world that she hadn’t considered how much this meant to you. But still, she didn’t really understand—at least, not until the lights dimmed and the curtain rose.

Then she saw you step onto the stage.

For the first time, she watched you in your element—completely at home under the spotlight.

And when you sang Burn, voice thick with raw emotion, Paige felt something tighten in her chest.

She had never seen you like this before.

She had never realized just how talented you were.

And worst of all, she had never realized how much she had hurt you by not being there.

After the show, you stepped into the lobby, still buzzing with adrenaline.

The last thing you expected was to see the entire UConn women’s basketball team standing there, grinning at you.

Your eyes widened. “What—?”

Jana smirked. “Surprise, superstar.”

Your heart swelled, a mix of shock and happiness flooding through you. But then your gaze landed on Paige, standing slightly behind the group, looking guilty.

Paige stepped forward hesitantly. “Hey.”

You swallowed. “Hey.”

“You were…” Paige hesitated, then exhaled. “Incredible.”

You blinked, caught off guard.

Paige ran a hand through her hair, her voice softer now. “I was an idiot. I should’ve been there from the beginning. I should’ve supported you the way you support me. I’m so sorry, baby.”

You bit your lip, the hurt still lingering.

“I just didn’t get it before,” Paige continued, her eyes pleading. “But watching you up there tonight… I get it now. This is a big deal. And you were amazing.”

A small smile tugged at your lips. “You really think so?”

Paige nodded. “Yeah. And I promise, from now on, I’ll be your biggest fan.”

You sighed, finally letting go of the resentment you had been holding onto. “You better be.”

Paige grinned, wrapping her arms around you. The team erupted into cheers, and you couldn’t help but laugh.

Maybe Paige had been late to the party, but at least she had finally arrived.

And that was all that mattered.

#uconn wbb #paige bueckers #paige bueckers x reader #uconn women’s basketball #uconn x reader

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desi2go · 2 months ago

Text

Sore muscles

pairing: Changbin x reader

warnings: fluff

Summary: what happens when Binnie comes home sore from a trainings session?

author's note: hey guys! I'm back (well I hope so). Sorry that I didn't post anything in the last months but my life is so busy right now that I sadly won't be able to post regularly. (But I'll try to update my story on ao3 whenever I have time!)

The door creaked open, dragging out the sound like it could sense his exhaustion, and you immediately heard the telltale signs of his struggle before you even saw him. There was the slow, uneven scuff of sneakers against the wooden floor, the sound of something heavy—his gym bag, no doubt—dropping to the ground with a dull, defeated thud. Then came a low, pained exhale, almost a groan, the kind someone makes when every breath feels like it takes effort. When he finally stepped into view, you barely recognized him.

His hoodie clung to his shoulders, damp with sweat, and his hair was plastered against his forehead in messy, dark strands. His normally bright, playful eyes were dulled with fatigue, and his jaw was tight, like he was gritting his teeth just to stay upright. Even the way he stood was different—his broad shoulders were hunched, his posture sagging as if gravity itself had decided to turn against him.

With judging eyes, you observed your boyfriend who leaned against the wall, his gym shorts were rumpled. His dark hair stuck to his forehead, even more, darkened with the efforts of the night. Honestly, he looked like he just survived a war, not a training session.

"Whoa" you said, closing your book and placing it on the table after sitting up straight on the couch. "You look... rough. Are you okay, babe?"

Changbin didn't answer at first, his eyes briefly roaming over your form before he balanced himself with pressing a hand on the wall. He exhaled slowly. "I bet you won't take a yes for an answer?" Trying to joke failed miserably, his grin only coming out crooked and his voice gravelly.

You stood up, crossing the room to meet him in where he tried so desperately to stay on his feet. "You walk like an old man" you judged him, eyes pinched together. "And I feel like one" he muttered quietly as he bent down slightly to untie his sneakers. Well, he at least tried, stopping in his tracks when he winced from the motion.

"What the hell did you do?" You mumbled worried, dropping to your knees to untie the shoes yourself before tossing them to the other pairs. "Today's training was insane. Chris recommend me the new coach. But oh boy, he is the pure evil, I swear." Changbin explained as he stumbled slightly when he wanted to walk to the couch.

"I didn't even know it was possible for my legs to hurt this much" You curled your fingers around his muscular forearm, guiding your boyfriend before he could topple over again. Every muscle felt like they were rock-hard, not from tension but from exhaustion, like they had been overworked to the point of rebellion.

"Sit down" you said firmly, leaving no room to argue. "I should-"

"Sit, please. Let me take care of you" you interrupted him, your tone soft yet brooking no argument. Sighing heavily, he let himself fall on the soft padding of the couch, nearly collapsing on top of it with a groan that sounded half relieved and half in agony.

He leaned back, closing his eyes eyes, head lolling to the side on a cushion. "I will be back, okay? I'm going to run you a bath" you pressed a quick peck on his damp forehead and headed to the bathroom in order to fill the tub.

While the hot water splashed into it, you dropped some soothing bathing oil in.

Meanwhile, you fetched him new clothes from the bedroom. It didn't take long for the tub to fill, so, you quickly headed back to the living area before your boyfriend fell asleep right then and there in his stinky clothes.

He layed there just like you had left him ten minutes prior, having not even changed his position in any way. Just his steady breathing told you that he was still alive. His eyes were closed, mouth slightly open. He looked cute and even though you wanted him to get as much sleep as possible, you shock him awake carefully.

Your hand cupped his cheek, caressing his soft skin. "Babe, wake up. We need to get you all cleaned up before you can sleep" you coaxed. He mumbled something incoherent, his eyes slowly fluttering open. Yawning, he stumbled with your help to the bathroom.

Carefully you helped him out of his clothes, peeling every piece off after the other. You pecked his cheek and went to throw the dirty clothes in the washing machine while he let himself fall into the tub with a sigh, soothing warmth enveloping his strained body. Changbin could practically feel how every little knot undid and his whole body went lax.

On your way back, you fetched him some water from the kitchen that you placed in his hands with a smile. Carefully, he took it with both hands, wincing even at the small motion. With a wash cloth, you spread water over his broad shoulders and neck and afterwards rubbed the remaining sweat off with shampoo.

The whole time, Changbin observed you through half closed eyes, fighting to stay awake. Yet, his gaze was always holding your form passionately. A trace of gratefulness in there. "I can't believe the new coach pushed you so much, even though you have dance practise tomorrow" you mumbled rather to yourself than him, anger bubbling inside of you.

Changbin lifted a hand out of the water and placed it on your arm. "It's okay. I said to him that he shouldn't go light on me just because I'm an idol. The training was good, just really exhausting." He explained, tracing his fingers over your skin. You sighed. "Just don't overdo it, okay? I don't want you injured"

He nodded and pursed his lips, indicating that he wanted a kiss from you. Rolling with your eyes, you pressed your lips together for a sweet peck. "Alright. Let's get you in bed for your massage" you declared, taking his hands and helping him out of the cooling water.

With one of your fluffiest towels, you dried him. "I feel like an old grandpa" he chuckled. You snorted. "I don't care. I love my sweet old boyfriend" you wiggled with your eyebrows. Grabbing the message oil, you followed him into the bedroom. The dim, amber glow from the bedside lamp casted flickering shadows across the room, highlighting the curve of his exposed back as he layed sprawled across the bed. In the air mingledthe subtle sweetness of your massage oil you had just uncapped.

With a gentle tilt, you let a thin stream of the golden liquid trickle onto his shoulder blades, watching as it pooled in the dips of his muscles before slowly gliding down his back. He shivered at the sensation, his skin reacting to the cool contrast against his warm body. Gently, you smoothed the oil across his shoulders with slow, deliberate strokes. You massaged him often, given his hard training sessions, he was often sore and you loved to help him relieve some of the pain with kneading the knots away.

Pressing your palms flat against his upper back, you let the warmth of your hands seep into his skin before you began kneading in slow, circular motions. His body was tight, muscles knotted from overexertion, but under your touch, he gradually began to unravel. Your thumbs pressed deep into the tension points along his traps, rolling out the stiffness with practiced precision that had come over time.

A deep, guttural sigh escaped him, his body sinking further into the mattress. "God, you’re so good at this."

You chuckled softly, leaning in just enough that your breath ghosted over his ear. "I know."

Your hands moved lower, gliding effortlessly down his spine, fingers tracing the ridges of each vertebra before pressing into the firm muscles of his lower back. Changbin flinched slightly at first, a reaction to the tenderness there, but you soothed him with slow, steady pressure, coaxing the tension away with each pass of youe hands. "Why do you always have to overdo it?" you murmured, working your way down towards his hips.

His lips curved into a lazy smile against the pillow. "Maybe because I know that you will fix me after"

You smirked, pouring a little more oil into youe palm before moving to his arms, your fingers digging into the hard muscle of his biceps and forearms. His body was all strength—firm, defined, yet completely pliant under your touch. You loved feeling the way he reacted, the way his breathing hitched when you found a particularly sore spot, the way his fingers twitched when you massaged his hands.

When you reached his legs, you both shifted until you straddled his thighs to get better leverage. He made a soft sound of contentment as you began working on his hamstrings, thumbs pressing deeply into the tight muscles, kneading away the ache with slow, methodical movements.

"That’s the spot," he groaned, gripping the sheets. Biting your lip as you worked, a grin was displayed on your lips. You didn't rush, instead, you took your time on every single knot, enjoying the way he melted beneath you. Your hands traveled down to his calves, rolling and squeezing, until every last bit of tension had faded. By the time you finished, his body was completely relaxed, his breathing slow and deep. You leaned forward, your lips pressing softly against the nape of his neck. "Feeling better?" His response was a drowsy hum, his fingers reaching out to blindly grasp yours. "Mmm… you’re a lifesaver."

You curled up beside him, draping an arm over his waist as you whispered, "Get some sleep."

With a content sigh, he pulled you closer, your bodies fitting together like two puzzle pieces, warmth radiating between you as sleep claimed you both.

☾☆☽

The next morning rolled by faster than you had expected. Changbin needed to leave for work early and since you were a pretty light sleeper, you heard his alarm go on. Grumbling, you rolled to your boyfriend's side, cuddling further into his embrace.

His hand traced patterns on your back. "Good morning baby" his low and raspy morning voice send tingles through your whole body. "Sorry my alarm woke you" he pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

"it's okay" you mumbled against his chest, remaining in this position for some time until he really needed to get up in order to arrive in time. You stayed in bed for a bit while Changbin went into the bathroom, still notably stiff from yesterday's workout session and still walking like an old man. You heard water running and then louder noises that made you perk up.

When he swore multiple time that you could even hear over the steady noise of the running water, you decided to check on him since that definitely wasn't usual for him. Slowly, you poked your head in. He was standing in front of the sink, his razor clutching in one hand while his whole lower part of his face was covered in shaving foam.

As he tried to move the razor up to his face, he winced, his muscles clearly stiff and sore. And maybe even a small strain hiding underneath the mass of his muscles. "Should I help you?" You asked in a gentle voice, careful not to spook him while leaning against the door frame.

His gaze immediately shifted towards you, letting his hand fall to the side. "You don't need to help me. Go back to bed baby. You need the sleep" he tried to coax.

You observed him with a judging look. "You're sure? I heard you swear. It's okay to ask for help. I'd love to take care of you" you soothed, taking the last few steps towards you and grabbed the razor. "Come on. Sit" you nudged him to the toilet where he sat down on the lid.

"You don't need to do that, you know?" He whispered as you leaned in, fully concentrated. "I know but I want to"

Carefully, you positioned the razor and shaved slowly. The way he watched every of your movements closely had you chuckling as you cleaned it with water.

"what? Afraid that I cut you?" You grabbed his chin and tilted his head to get better access. His eyes sparkled with adoration. "Never. I trust you wholly" he whispered, shutting his eyes as you reapplied the razor.

"You better be" you murmured, cleaning the little stubbles from the razor with the water in the sink.

"You're sure you can attend practise? Your arms seemed still pretty sore and I think they might even be strained." You argued, placing the razor on his cheek and pulling it down carefully, never once lifting your gaze from the razor.

"Well, I need to attend. The others will be disappointed and I can't lack in dancing" he answered, his hand playing with the hem of your sleep shirt.

"They will survive surely without you. Plus, I have already texted Chan yesterday night before sleeping. It's totally fine" you wiggled your eyebrows as you saw his impressed look on his face.

"I have nothing to say in it, right?" He smirked crookedly, eyes sparkling with adoration. You laughed mischievously.

"Nope, absolutely not. You will spend the day with me even if I have to chain you to the bed"

He snorted, shaking his head after you had placed the razor down and cleaning his face with a fluffy towel.

"Maybe I should remind you of your place, baby" he murmured seducingly, voice dropping as he flirted with you. His hand kneaded the skin on your hips, pinching it from time to time in a mocking manner.

You giggled, pecking his sweet lips. "Tempting, very tempting" you sing-sang, butterflies swirling in your stomach as he manhandled you as best as he could with his strained muscles, leading your lips on his for a hard and longing kiss. When his sore muscles had subsided, you were going to have a lot of fun.

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