#So many things to play as well and many things to watch. Waking up at 6 am ...not too bad...I now have more time in the day to do fuck all
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thefaithfulnightwriter · 2 days ago
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𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐔𝐍𝐀 ~ Chapter One
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Summary - 𝙄𝙣 𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙘𝙝 the High Lord of Night Court Rhysand and Y/n meet during cruel dark times. During Amarantha's ruling over Prythian. Finding each other during such a time the two secretly fall deeply in love with one another. Both having a rare bond tethering them together... a mating bond. A bond that they both cherished and held close to their hearts. Though they loved each other dearly there was something that was missing. A missing piece they could feel deep within. It caused the two to grow a longing feeling within. It didn't deter their love for one another. But they just knew there was a blank space in their bond. After so long the two mates finally find the missing piece... another mate.
Pairing - Rhysand x Female!Reader x Feyre Archeron
Universe - pre acotar - acowar [it may go into an au after acowar not sure yet though]
Warnings - Gore, Death, Blood, Characters may be a bit OOC, Mature Themes, Semi Smut or Smut NOT Sure Yet, Violence, Language, Abuse, Mention of Past Abuse, Mention of SA and SH (but nothing descriptive), War, Things Will Be Changed Sort Of, Fluff, Angst, Some Sensitive Subjects, Mating Bonds, Poly. Relationship MxFxM, More Will Be Added If Needed.
Disclaimer - I do not own the series ACOTAR - ACOWAR. I do own certain characters, and I own my mc. I do own somethings that are made up. And i own my writing and whatnot you get where im going and what i am saying lol.
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Shaking her head she found herself able to wake up. A groan escaped her lips at the pain in her head and the pain that traveled all over her body. But then a whimper escaped her soon after. Opening her eyes slightly she was met with the ground beneath her moving slowly. Her vision was still blurry. She then felt two strong grips on her arms holding her up. Along with cuffs  around her wrists and a collar around her neck all connected to chains. She then realized that she was being dragged somewhere. Feeling the ground scraping against her legs.
Opening and closing her eyes rapidly she tried to clear her vision. Once cleared another whimper escaped her as she tried to get away from the two holding her. But it was no use because she was too weak. But a cry escaped her when she felt someone suddenly yank at the metal collar around her neck. Causing her to gasp and cough. It seemed there was someone behind her. 
“You better stop. You know Amarantha won’t want a possible new pet to be banged up too much by us. We already did enough when catching her. She’d want to do the rest herself.”  
She heard one of the males dragging her say. After he spoke they were all soon laughing at his words. She was now confused and terrified. But hearing the name Amarantha she realized where she might be now… Under the Mountain. A place she dreaded and wanted nothing to do with. 
She remembered being in the Spring Court with her family. All of them were getting ready to leave the Court together. Seeing that the Spring Court was being watched more closely than the others by the new cruel ruler of Prythian… Amarantha. Her ruling having been for ten years now. They wanted to get away from the constant searching and persistent eyes. They wanted to stay safe and keep hidden.
They had to stay hidden… well more so herself then anyone. Her family wanted to keep her hidden and out of the public's eye. Being she was something or someone very rare. Someone very rare that hasn’t been seen in many centuries. Something rare but also powerful. And it seemed the people knew as well now. As they dragged her through the dark halls and to a room. 
Now closing her eyes, she began to think about it. She could remember what had happened. She was playing with her younger brother Evrin in the forest behind their cottage when her mother and father came running. They had heard that people were coming to take her to Amarantha herself. They wanted to run. But it was too late. Their cottage was raided not long after. Which led her and her father to fight. While her mother and brother ran to hide. As they fought they almost killed her father but she was able to hide him away from them before they could. But as she did at that moment she was captured. 
She just hoped that her family were together and safe. Her mother, father, and younger brother. She knew they most likely would be at their meeting point. A meeting point on the edge of Spring Court leading into Summer Court. But it broke her heart just thinking of it. That she wouldn’t be meeting them. Because she was in the hands of Amarantha now. 
It caused tears to fall down her cheeks knowing that she was in her hands. She knew how cruel she could be having heard of her through the whispers in the winds. She could hear the cries and prayers to the Mother at times. Then hearing of her from the people in the Spring Court, hearing the rumors and stories. She was scared. No, she was terrified.       
She had soon jumped hearing the loud opening of the large doors leading into a vast room. There were many people in the room. As she looked around with tears in her eyes. She saw many with smirks and grins with their gazes on her. But as she looked to the throne in the room there she sat… Amarantha. 
Seeing her causes her to shake in fear. She was quick to look at the ground. Not wanting to meet her eyes. But a yelp escaped her when she was thrown roughly onto the floor at her feet. Her chains clicked on the ground. Which caused many to laugh at her pain. On shaking hands she forced herself to sit up. 
But she didn’t care about their laughter. At that moment she was too scared. She didn’t look up; she kept her eyes on the ground in front of her. Too scared to look up. It was then she heard everyone quiet and then movement. The clicking of heels moved closer to her. It was then she saw black heels come into her view. 
“Well aren’t you a pretty little thing.”
She heard a female speak. She knew that it was Amarantha. She just knew it was her. It caused a whimper to escape her lips as she kept her eyes on the floor. But soon she felt fingers tangle their way into her long hair and then a yelp escaped her. As her head was forced back. 
“So, tell me little fairy what is your name?” Amarantha questioned her with a grin. As she ran her fingers from her hair down to her cheek. Then up to her longer than average fae ear that was pointed. A gasp left her lips hearing Amarantha call her ‘little fairy’. This meant she probably knew what and who she was and that scared her even more.
But she kept her mouth shut not wanting to give her name. Which Amarantha didn’t like. She was then grabbing her sensitive ear and pulling harshly. Causing her to cry out. But she didn’t speak her name. Leading Amarantha to raise her hand and slap her harshly against her cheek. So hard she fell to the floor with a sob. It led many to laugh.
“Oh shut up! Now I am only going to ask this once more. And if you don’t answer me I’m going to cut off one of those cute ears you have. So, what is your name?” Amarantha threatened before asking again. Reaching a hand out she was quickly given a sharp dagger. Sitting up again she didn’t know if she should tell her name. She was contemplating if she should. But she seemed to have taken too long because Amarantha was kneeling again. She then had a harsh grip on her ear and began to drag the sharp pointed dagger harshly on her ear. 
“Y/n! I - It’s Y/n,” She cried out in pain, her ear now bleeding. She knew it would leave a scar. Amarantha was then letting her ear go and grinned, satisfied with the answer. She still had her eyes on Y/n. Who still had yet to meet her eyes. She didn’t seem to care because her eyes were focused on Y/n. She then muttered, ‘hmmm I wonder’ to herself. 
She was then grabbing her cream colored dress and was soon cutting the back of it. A cry was heard from Y/n as she tried to get away. She didn’t want her to see. She had to keep them hidden. But before she could crawl away she was grabbed by the chain on her collar around her neck and pulled closer to Amarantha. Who continued to cut and rip at the back of her dress. As she did, markings were soon revealed and seen. Black lines and curves were marked on her back and the back of her arms. They seemed to be the markings of wings.
“There they are. I guess they were right. A little spy told me that you are a rare powerful creature. A very rare elemental fairy,” Amarantha laughed. But many gasps were heard from the crowd who were looking at her. Seeing the markings on her back. She didn’t know what to do besides trying to hold the front of her dress up. 
Trying to keep herself covered. And holding her bleeding ear. As many more tears fell down her soft cheeks. She was supposed to keep what she was a secret. She was supposed to be a secret… but not anymore. Everyone now knew and many more would know. But a whimper escaped her lips at what Amarantha said next.
“But now you're my new pet,” Amarantha taunted with a grin. She chuckled as she grabbed the front of the collar around Y/n’s neck pulling her closer. She tried to pull away again not wanting to be anywhere near her. But it was no use. She wished she could be anywhere else. But she knew she wasn’t going to get what she wished for. 
“Get her cleaned up and take her to my guest chambers. Oh and don’t try anything with that magic you have little fairy. Those cuffs and that collar will stop it and it will backfire. You will only be able to use them if I see fit and if I give you permission,” Amarantha demanded as she stood up pushing her away. But still with a grin upon her lips. Soon a guard was walking forward and grabbing her arm and dragged her away once again. As someone a female followed after them. A sob escaped Y/n as he dragged her away. 
But there were a pair of violet eyes on her never leaving her. Having felt a pull towards her like no other. Which they knew and understood what it was instantly. They were trying to hide their pain, awe, and shock behind a mask. Trying to hold themselves together and hold back from running to her. Wanting to have her in their arms and to take her far away from this place. But they knew they couldn’t. It took everything in them to keep their emotions in check and hidden to keep their mask in place. Because they just realize they may have found their mate. 
Rhysand the High Lord of Night Court just realized he just may have found his mate. And he couldn’t do anything to take her away from this horrible place and that broke his heart.   
°˖✧✿✧˖°★°˖✧✿✧˖°
It had been a few days now and she was stuck in a room, a sobbing mess. After a night with Amarantha doing anything she wanted with her. But just thinking about what had happened caused her to let out another sob. As she curled into herself, hugging herself tightly. She wished that she could be anywhere else and that she didn’t have to go through such things. But it had already happened and there was nothing she could do. And she knew it would happen again and it pained her.
She soon saw flashes of moments of what happened. Feeling Amarantha’s hands on her and more. Seeing the marks she had left on her skin. She was then sitting up quickly. She then started pulling harshly at the cuffs that were still on her and the collar. 
She remembers trying to use her magic while Amarantha touched her. But all it did was inflict pain on herself and made Amarantha laugh at her attempts. Before she threatened to search for her family and end them if she didn’t stop. Which led her to stop fighting and to let her do as she pleased and did as she was told. Not wanting anything to happen to her family. She would make sure nothing happened to them.
Another cry escaped her lips as she made an attempt to use her magic. But all it did was inflict pain on herself. Right now it took to burning her skin. Crying at the pain and memories. She didn’t know what to do besides keep pulling at the cuffs. As she kept using her magic not caring if it hurt her. Not caring if it left marks on her skin. She didn’t care. She just wanted them off and to be somewhere else. She wanted to be with her family. She didn’t want any of this. And at that moment she was so lost that she didn’t realize that someone had entered the room. Opening the door quietly sneaking into the room. But seeing her they were quick to move to her. 
She jumped when strong large hands came into view and grabbed hers. Careful of the cuffs on her wrists digging into her now damaged skin. Making sure not to touch them. But quickly stopping her from pulling at the cuffs on her wrists and from using her magic. A cry escaped her once again as she tried to pull away. But they kept a gentle but firm grip on her. As she looked at the one who stopped her she gasped just as they did. 
Her eyes clashed with violet ones. 
Both looked perplexed at each other. Because as soon as their eyes met unexpectedly a golden bond formed slightly stronger between the two. That was now noticeable to the two. A rare bond that they could feel in their chest… a mating bond. But looking at him taking him in, she knew who he was instantly. 
He was Rhysand the High Lord of Night Court. He was truly handsome. The stories and rumors didn’t do him justice. But as she looked at him he looked at her with awe. Yes, he knew she was probably his mate a few days ago. But now he knew it for sure… she was his mate. And he couldn’t help but look at her in awe. He couldn’t believe he really found her.  
Y/n though was stuck in thought. Having remembered hearing the rumors about him. And she didn’t know what to think. She didn’t even know what to say. She was frozen with her gaze on him. He was her mate. She didn’t know how to feel. She didn’t know if she wanted to wrap her arms around him or pull away. But she soon shook her shocked state away when he let her go gently. Not wanting to overwhelm her anymore than what she already was. He didn’t want to do that to her.  
“Sorry. You were… hurting yourself. I - you shouldn’t do that,” Rhysand said after clearing his throat. After stumbling over his words slightly. His eyes still on her taking her in. She was gorgeous. But taking in her state and the scent lingering in the room he knew what had happened. He knew what Amarantha had done to her, his mate. 
It led him to clench his jaw in anger. It was such a strong emotion that washed over him. Which caused her to flinch feeling such a thing through their new bond that they shared together. But she shook it off seeing Rhysand send her a small smile that said ‘sorry’. She after a moment couldn’t help but look at him and say it. Still in a state of shock that he was her mate. She couldn’t help but voice it.
“You’re m - my mate,” she whispered, afraid to say it louder. More so stating a fact then asking. Not taking her eyes off of him. She couldn’t believe she had just found her mate. Nor could she believe that he was the High Lord of Night Court. And now as she looked at him he didn’t seem like the one from the rumors she had heard from people. He seemed kind, vulnerable even as he looked at her. But she soon remembered what the winds had whispered to her about him. She watched as a small smile washed over Rhysand hearing her say such a thing. 
“Yes I am. But can you come with me, my flower? If you want,” Rhysand cooed. Reaching out a hand for her to take. Waiting for her to reach and take his hand in hers. Giving her the choice to come with him. Looking from him to his hand she was hesitant. But after a few seconds she shakingly grabbed it. She didn’t know where he was taking her. But part of her wanted to follow him, her mate. She thought he wouldn’t hurt her right. So she did follow after him. As she kept a close watch on the bond they shared. Taking notice of slight emotions flowing to her from him. Shakingly she began to crawl her way out of the bed. 
As she got off the bed she almost fell but Rhysand was quick to catch her by her waist. Keeping the blanket in place that covered her bare body. Sending her a smile before removing his hands from her waist but kept a hold of her hand. He then began leading her to a door that led to a bathroom.
When they entered the room, Rhysand moved her to stand near the sink. As she stood she watched him move so gracefully and with purpose. She couldn’t keep her eyes off of him. She watched as he filled the large tub with warm water then added oils and what not. And after he was done she then watched as he held out a hand for her. Looking at his hand she took it again. He then moved her to the tub and took a step back. 
“I will be out in the room if you need me. So we can talk when you are done. Take as long as you need. I will wait,” Rhysand informed her, about to leave the room wanting to give her privacy. But before he could turn and leave she stopped him. Keeping a firm grip on his hand. Leading him to look at her with a slight tilt of his head with curiosity. It was then he saw she now had a fearful look upon her face as she looked up at him. 
“You’ll actually stay right? You promise,” she asked softly but with a shaky voice. As she kept her gaze on him, her eyes never leaving his. She didn’t want him to leave her. Not after she just found out that he was her mate. She didn’t know exactly how she felt about it. But she just didn’t want to lose him so soon. A part of her wanted him close and near. She just wanted her mate. Seeing her look at him in such a way caused him to send her a small meaningful smile. 
“I promise I won’t leave you. There are things we need to discuss. Plus I just found you… I’m not leaving your side unless I need or have to,” Rhysand soothed. Bringing her hand closer to him he pulled her hand to his lips, placing a soft kiss upon it. Careful of the cuff still around her wrist that no longer had chains connected to them as they did when she first came. As he did such a gesture he sent reassurance to her through the bond. Which led her to sigh in relief. 
Nodding, she watched as he released her hand gently and left the room. Giving her privacy as he closed the door gently behind him. Sighing again she turned to the warm steaming bath. Taking in the scent and bath caused a small smile to wash over her. Thinking he did such a thing for her. She shook it away and allowed the blanket to drop and stepped into the bath.        
As she sat and started to clean herself. She began to think about her mate… Rhysand. Many thoughts came to her mind. Remembering what she had heard from the winds about him. Then hearing the rumors that fae said about him. A sigh escaped her lips not knowing what to think of him. But then a thought came to her mind causing her to freeze.
Would he even truly accept her as his mate or reject her? Thinking it caused a soft gasp to escape her lips. Before worry filled her. Would she survive such a thing… rejection? Would she survive him not wanting her as his mate? Taking a deep breath she soon released a tired breath. Before hugging her legs to her chest and leaning her head on her knees. Closing her eyes she took deep breaths trying to keep her tears at bay. Then another thought came to her mind.
How were they even going to go about this bond in such a place if they were to accept each other as mates? If they did they would most likely have to keep it hidden. And soon many more things came to her mind. Hitting her like a crashing wave in the ocean almost drowning her in the depths of dark waters. 
Many bad and horrifying thoughts washed over her mind. But she was quick to try and shake her head. She tried to calm herself but found it hard. That is until she felt reassurance flow to her. Starting from her chest and flowing throughout her body. She knew it must have been Rhysand through the bond she has yet to really fully grasp. She couldn’t help the small smile that now washed over her. It caused her to sigh again before she started to wash herself once again. 
In that moment she stopped her motions as she remembered one of the things her mother always says to her. 
“Take one step at a time. Take it minute by minute, day by day. We have long lives ahead of us. There’s nothing wrong with taking your time with certain things. So there’s no need to worry so much all at once.”
She remembered her mother saying to her once. And repeating such a thing on more than one occasion. It caused her to smile thinking of her mother. It felt like forever since she last saw her mother. She just hopes that her family is safe after everything. She then shook the thought away trying not to overthink about them. Not wanting to sink into such worry and thoughts.
After she was done washing she soon made her way out of the bath. Grabbing the towel that was already out. Drying herself off, she looked at the mirror to find herself staring back at her. Her eyes didn’t have their usual bright glow. Her skin was paler without having a certain glow. Her body was littered with marks and scratches. Then there were the collar and cuffs on her that were very noticeable. She could see the red marks that were under them.
But she was quick to turn and move her long hair over her shoulder to look at her back and arms. The black lines and curves and marks were still there and intact… her wings. They were still there. But there were a few marks causing her to sigh. Her back was and always would be sensitive along with her long pointed ears. Which led her to reach to her ear that now had a long scar on it. She didn’t like it but she would have to live with it. She would have to live with everything causing her to sigh in defeat. 
Shaking her head of such thoughts. She soon tightened her grip on her towel around her frame. Looking at the sink she found a dress neatly folded with undergarments. She wondered when they appeared but didn’t think much of it. Knowing Rhysand must have used his magic to make them appear for her. It made a light blush appear over her cheeks thinking of it, about him. 
But she didn’t linger on the thought long. Not wanting to go down that path. Not yet anyway. Not without talking to him first. To see where they stand. Reaching out she was quick to put on the clothing and then made her way to the door. But she stopped in front of it for a moment.
Listening, she could hear the flipping of pages and the sound of a soft heartbeat that seemed to quicken sometimes. She knew who it was… Rhysand, her mate. She could feel how close he was through the bond they shared. With the mating bond they share she didn’t know what was going to happen between them. All she could do was hope that all would go well. Soon she was gathering up the little courage she had. She then took a deep breath and opened the door. So she could face what was to come with her now having a mate. 
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Lacuna Taglist -
ladespedidas 
daughterofthemoons-stuff
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icarusredwings · 15 hours ago
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Trying something new, be kind.
Baby talk. 1/2
Ft. Wo-wo, mama, and 'essy
A Sfw very little Wade fic
Cws include: Brief mentions of adult fun, truama, brief discussion of death, an unexperienced caregiver, an uncomfortable caregiver, cursing, struggles/ happy ending.
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Coming home, Wade was quiet. Too quiet.
"Wade?" He calls.
"Last time I heard him he came to hug me for a bit but he didn't awnser me when I asked what he was doing." Al mutters, half asleep on the couch.
"Oh.. well I got food so don't nod off just yet. I'm gonna make that alfredo stuff you like."
"Mmh.. You're a good kid, Logan."
"Althea, I'm older than you...Remember?" He says, setting down the bag of ingredients in the kitchen.
The old woman waves her hand. "Yeah yeah... just wake me up when you're done."
"Alright. Swear you'll wake up? Don't go dying on our couch." He tells her jokingly.
"Bah! It's my couch, I can die on it if I want too." She smiles, pulling the blanket up a bit.
Sometimes she did this, and it was starting to worry Logan. She was forgetting little things more, taking more naps, not wanting to move a lot either. Something about her back? Either way, Logan was terrified. He's already lost so many to old age, he didn't want to see her go too. And thinking about what it would do to Wade scared him more.
It's not until he checks the bedroom to see Wade W sitting, sucking his thumb, and playing house with his action figures and the doll house that Vanessa bought him a couple of years ago.
"Darlin'?"
From the looks of it, he had Spiderman in the kitchen, an old woman on the couch, a doggy on the couch, two little girls upstairs, a barbie in the tub (that didn't fit at all) and a wolverine action figure in the bed, claws up and out.
It took him a second to process before smiling softly. He hasn't been this small in such a long time. "Did I have a nightmare?" He asks, watching as Wade takes the wolvie out of the bed, reaching up as if showing him.
"Yeah, I see. Mad little guy, isn't he?" Logan crouches, grunting a bit as his knees popped.
"God, how do you get down here? Dosn't that hurt your knees?" Logan asks, only to be given a dead stare. As if not processing what he was saying.
"Oh.. uhm.. these?" He pats his knees. "Ouches. Sometimes.."
His eyes light up, only to frown, looking concerned, his own hands coming to his knees. "...ow?"
"Sometimes... hey so... how big are you right now? Can you tell me?"
But there was that stare again, a small tilt of his head with such wide white eyes. Yeah.. that just about tells him everything he needs to know. Vanessa has told him about when this first started and how truely little he had become, not talking much, simply....staring.
"Well.. Kitty's going to make dinner soon. How about you come out and sit in the living room, okay? So I can see you?"
Another stare, his head tilting to the other side now, like a puppy watching its owner do something it had no concept of.
"Uh-huh.... right. Uhm... nevermind. Just stay in here, okay?" Standing again is when Wade begins to panic, making an urgent whine, putting his arms up. "MmMmh!!"
Blinking, Logan swallows, not exactly comfortable with this age. This was Vanessa's age. Not his. He was used to the 5 year old wanting to play stuffies or the smart alack 8 year old who ranted to him for hours about stars, planets, and dinosaurs.
So this was.. weird. New. Unexplored territory. And Honestly, he was fine with that. Totally fine with not knowing.
"Er...I-i don't.. this isn't-" He starts, having a subconsious guilty feeling in his gut for not wanting to take care of him, but also felt like he shouldn't be interacting with him. I mean- They did big adult things last night. And now he was giving him grabby hands? It felt wrong. And with Wade's truama? He didn't want to make it worse on accident.
"Ups?"
"N-no.. Wade.. I-...Im gonna go call Vanessa. Okay?"
"... 'essy?"
"Y-yeah. 'Essy. Erm.. thats ness right?"
" 'essy?"
Swallowing, he nods, leaving the room with his hairs pricked up on the back of his neck, a knot in his stoamch. Taking a deep breath, he dialed the poor woman twice. The phone range through to voice mail both times. "Shit- okay.. fuck.. uhm.."
So he goes to google, trying his best to look for awnsers only to become more disgusted with himself at what he saw. Why was there so much- He groans, trying to calm himself. He couldn't even ask Althea because she was sleeping, snoring away.
Okay. Come on, Howlett. It can't be this hard.. right? I mean, it's just like a regular ki- Oh come on! He's never had a kid this little before! Especially not alone. What was he supposed to do?
Another deep breath, feeling defeated, and put his face in his hands. A buzz comes from the phone, and just as he looks at it, it was like signing his own death certificate.
'Sorry, I'm working. Whats up?'
"When he was really young what did you do to him?"
'???'
"He's really little right now. What do I do?" He asks, trying to type coherently.
'Oooh okay. So ussually I would give him a cup and put on a movie. He was really cuddly too so sometimes I would just hold him.'
Before Logan could respond again, she sent another message saying she had to get back to work and that it will be fine. 'It's easy, don't worry' She said but Logan had his doubts.
Alright. Movies.. cups.. hugs. Got it. He could do that. He could do hugs and cups. That was normal.
Sighing, he puts the phone away, going to the kitchen as he made him his cup, just putting straight milk into it. He liked milk right?? Did tots like milk? Yeah- obviously. Come on- get it together.
Walking into the livingroom, Logan sets it down, going through movies as he remembered what Vanessa told him before, about singing princess movies. "Ariel it is" he thinks, clicking it on and shifted the coffee table so he would have room to lay or play- what ever it was he did.
Coming back to the room, he gathers up some blankets and his stuffies, taking them from the room only to drop them all infront of the tv.
"Wade!" He calls. "Got a cup for ya! And look its a princess. You like princesses." He says, but he doesn't come.
"Wade? Come on, Bub! I gotta make dinner still." This last part was under his breath, only to grunt, going into the room only to see him sitting in the same spot.
"What are you doing? Come on. Livingroom with mama. Lets go." He shifts, gestruing his arms to the door but Wade didn't move, infact the loud words made him frown more, looking at him with those big wide eyes, a deer in headlights.
Logan took a step forward, watching Wade lower his head, holding his small angry Wolverine near his chest, like he would take it away.
This is what Logan was worried about. Great! Now he was scared of him. How was he supposed to care for someone who was too scared to move?
Think, Logan. This isn't hard. Just carry him.
Grunting, he hesitantly puts his arms out, leaning over. "...come'ere."
Another head tilt, making him groan, slightly annoyed. "Wade. Uppies. Come on, kiddo."
Instantly, he smiles, crawling quickly to his legs and put his hands back up, still keeping mad wolvie in one hand.
Picking him up, a shiver went down his spine, suddenly feeling a sense of severe protection after Wade wrapped his arms around his neck, affectionatly nuzzling into his neck with a big smile.
Unconsciously, he hugged him tightly, holding his bum and rubbing his back. "...Hi honey."
Wait. What was he doing? no. No. No. No. NO.
He couldn't feel that way about him. Absolutely no way. That was wrong. Fucking instincts! Not everthing adorable is your kid damn it!
Shaking his head, he quickly walks to the livingroom, putting him down.
"Now. You stay. Sit and watch princess." He says, pointing at the Tv and shaking his head, watching as Wade whimpered, giving him grabby hands again.
"No, Wade. L-later..." He swallows, wanting to punch himself for feeling that way. He had hugged him the same way Gabby did after a long time of seeing him, and it had activated his instinctual parental habits.
Quickly, he walks away to the kitchen, rubbing his temples. "I can't do this shit.." he grumbles.
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stinkrascal · 5 months ago
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i had dreams about elden ring last night oh man it’s bad now
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nkogneatho · 10 months ago
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"𝐈𝐓'𝐒 𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐊"
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𝐉𝐉𝐊 𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊
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—cw: lactation kink, mentions of pregnancy, dirty, nasty, depraved stuff, vaginal sex, period oral mention, monsterfucking in kuna's (sukuna's is way too dirty), dry humping, drinking breast milk obv, not proofread (this is too long and i have an event tomorrow)
—a/n: i have officially lost it. is it obvious i have lost it? idk if this is the best or the worst thing you will ever read but this is very depraved and nasty. like...aaaaaaaaaahh okay i am normal. i put my big titties non existent breast milk into this so please read it all and i hope you enjoy.
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𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔
— satoru is the man who is always up for something new. especially, if it involves pleasing you because he's a good husband and that's good what husbands do. he knows how to pull out the naughty parts out of you, but he had to work his way up.
"I am just saying. It helps. Believe me," your husband was arguing with you.
"Cut it out, Toru. I am not letting you suck my boobs."
"But why?"
"Because it's gross and weird." The moment those words left your mouth, he audibly gasped.
"Did you just call our baby's food gross?" You rolled your eyes. He's always like this. It's not like you weren't curious of his reaction when he does taste you, you were just scared that he'd be disgusted. Plus the post pregnancy hormones are worst as they make you emotional over the silliest things.
"Please, baby? Just this one time. I'll be a good boy I promise." You hate when he addresses himself as if he's an angel. He is a mischievous devil inside. But rather than having him pester you for the rest of the night and ruin your hard earned sleep (since your baby's cries always wakes you up) You thought maybe let him and just get it over with...
"mmph ffhuck." His moans vibrated through your skin, "mhmm god ywo twaste shwo good." The moment he said that, all the insecurity left your body, and heat forming between your legs.
"Ngh—toru..." you felt so embarrassed—so dirty when his eyes locked with you. Your lashes fluttered and you looked away but you swore you could feel him smiling on your nipples. Your husband really digs out the emotions you never thought existed within you.
He was pressing them together, playing like he had just found a new toy. You had never seen so much amusement in those blue eyes as much as of now. Bright pink tongue lolling out to taste the squirting liquid when he squeezed both your breasts together.
"Feels good, right baby? ah!" *slurp* He wiped the dripping milk at the end of his lips with his tongue, and you couldn't process. You felt so wet. And he knew you very well. After all, you've been together for so many years.
"Lay down baby. I'll fuck you while I drink you." You never thought you'd ever hear that sentence but there it was.
𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎 𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈
— toji has always been an experienced man. he has definitely tried a lot of things. but there's always areas to expand knowledge and new things to learn. he wouldn't do anything that makes you uncomfortable but he knew the person he was marrying wasn't ordinary. you, deep down, were just very dirty like him.
You had your legs stretched on the sofa, upper body resting on your husband's lap. Since you guys had a baby, it was very rare for you rest. Being a parent is the best thing in the world but it also feels worse than a 9to5 sometimes. Today was a good day though. Your boy was sleeping soundly and you had some quality time to spend with each other. Well, it's hard to go on a date at this time, but you both were just happy to be in each other's presence.
Toji was mindlessly flipping through some channels after he got bored halfway through that one movie he was watching. His emerald eyes fell on your ipad screen where you were scrolling through what seemed like a baby product websites.
"I thought we had bought everything for little gumi." You looked up at him then back to the screen.
"Oh this isn't for gumi bear. This is for me. These are called breast shells."
"What? Show me." He took the ipad from you and carefully observed the product you were supposedly buying. "So what is this a fashion accessory for mommies now?"
"Hehehe," you giggled. "No, baby. My breast oversupplies sometimes and it ruins my dress. They prevent that." You watched him as he sat there in silence, poking his tongue inside his mouth. Within two seconds, he flipped you on the sofa, and gently climbed on you.
"Why are you buying that shitty thing when I am right here?"
"Toji, what do y—OH MY GOD!" he pulled out both your breast pretty quickly, all thanks to your maternity clothes. He knew you won't stop him. He knew you would get wet when he'd do that. And he was right on the money. He started sucking so hard, you felt...foreign. He had sucked them a hundred times before but watching him flick your nipples with his tongue and the milk trailing down, fusing with the tastebuds until it goes transparent and his adam's apple bobs when he gulps it. fuck.
Toji's obvious boner grinds against your heat as he suckled on those pretty tits. The wet patch on your panties were now staining his grey bottoms too.
"Overflowing down there too, mama? Hmph," he chuckled. You were to focused on the feeling of his lips on your nipples that you forgot to see his right hand moving down to cup your heat.
"Ngh—twoji," you mewled.
"Don't worry, baby. I'll take care of you." Thick fingers circled your wet clit, "Ya don't need those shells or whateva when i am right here." He is a great husband. He even saved you so much money that you were gonna spend on those silicones.
𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔
—suguru worships you. it isn't obvious but you can feel his devotion towards you. the way his droopy eyes lights up when they fall on you, or his ears turn red when you kiss him. he loves how you take him in, struggling a little at first because he is girthy and a bit long, but when he bottoms out, you finally exhale and relax your walls around him. holy shit. he loves it. but this time, something different struck his curiosity.
"fuck. you sure we can do this baby?" He asked.
"'s okay, sugu. doc said we had to wait like six weeks and it's been three months." You were so busy in your post pregnancy life that you barely got time for just each other. You hadn't even kissed properly in months. "plus," you reached for his cock, "i need you." Those last words came off as a whine. You needed him and who is he to deny you off your pleasure.
You were on top of him as you positioned his boner to your entrance. He watched as your cunt swallowed him. This time, not struggling as much. Thanks to dilation.
"anh! suguuu~ mhmm missed your cock." You moaned so beautifully, he found himself falling in love over and over again. Yet, something was different. Normally, his eyes would focus down on how you well you take him as you ride it, but today he had found something rather more interesting. Your big tits bumped against his face and he couldn't take his eyes of those nipples. Those glistening nipples. He could see droplets of milk settling and honestly, they looked so fucking tempting. He let his intrusive thoughts win as you felt a warm sensation on your boobs.
"haaa—fuck. sugu, mhmm—no, it's gross" He didn't reply. He didn't need to. Pretending he didn't hear that was just right. Why would you even think anything about you is gross. He would kiss the soil you walked on.
"so fucking sweet. my sweet girl." *sucksucksuck* "these are f'me too, right? these were made f'me. hmm...sweet *suck* fucking *suck* girl.
congratulations. you just unlocked his new kink.
𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎
—nanami is a gentke lover. we all know that. he is only mean in bed if you ask him too. that alone needs a lot of convincing because he is scared of hurting you. he is not too kinky but you can't say he's completely vanilla. he enjoys wrapping a tie around wrist as be eats you out. he also found himself getting hard when you called him "daddy." So yeah, he is a little kinky. But not in a million years Nanami Kento would've thought he would get hard watching you wipe the excess milk off your breasts.
"So i just put her down to sleep," you walked out of the baby room, with your left tit out, wiping it with a napkin. "What do you want for lunch—Kento?" He immediately broke the staring contest he was having with your boobs and looked at you.
"Yes, sweetheart?"
"Is everything alright? Is there something on my breasts?"
"Yes—I mean no. of course not." It was rare to hear panic in his voice which only made you mroe curious. You walked closer to him, hsi breath heavier than usual.
"What's wrong, Ken? Talk to me." shit shit shit. you were too close. he could feel your wet boobs rubbing against his cyan blue shirt. If you got any closer, you would loathe him for having a boner for such thing. He was ashamed of himself.
"Why are you looking away, baby? Do you not like me anymore?" Fuck. You're so stupid. Not like you? That man is in love with you so much. He cannot contain himself. You tried to get closer but he tripped on the foot of the couch and felk on it upright, and you on top of him.
oh.
OH.
You could feel it between your legs. You didn't even kiss him and it's not like you were seducing him earlier so you connected the dots pretty quickly on why he was hard.
"hmm hmm" you giggled. "is this what makes you hard you, ken? my lactating tits?"
"don't say it out loud, please." it was so fun seeing him all flustered. you adjusted yourself on top him as you thought of something very dirty.
"wanna taste? i know you're curious." he hesitated a bit, but a man like him can only go so high with his walls before he breaks them and let's his wife take control.
He started off with a few licks, testing his feet into the water. It was sweet with a hint of tanginess. The moment he felt it squirting a lot when he sucked, he fell in love. He acted like a kid who had just discovered magic. You chuckled between your heavy moans as you witnessed him trying to fit in your tits in his mouth as much as he can. You start grinding on him and it only makes him more desperate. He taps your thighs, a cue to pull your dress up and throw it in the floor. You watch as he hungrily latches his lips on your nipples quickly again. Your dress was not even off your arms yet. Nanami had discovered his obsession when he watched you squeeze you tits to squirt your milk on him.
𝐑𝐘𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀
—sukuna didn't even think it was possible for him to have a child as him being a curse and you being a human but here you were. he was in love with you. maybe his expression for love was different than others, but you felt it. be wasn't an embodiment of rage, but rather an overflowing confidence in his skills. That's where the cockiness came from. Existing for over a 1000 years, he thought he had experienced everything. Well...he was wrong.
"So...you just out this device on your chest and it gathers your milk?"
"Yes. It's called a "breast pump" and not a device," his vocabulary according to the new era was still weak but he was working on it.
When you detached the the vaccum of the breast pump from your boobs, Sukuna's eyes were fixated on them. He loved your tits. He had his fair share of biting and sucking on them till they were sore, but today they looked so plumped and so...succulent??
"What are you staring at? You want to drink it too or what?" You joked as you closed the lid of the bottle.
"Yes." You stared at him. Two minutes of complete shock snd silence.
"What?"
"What? You said if I want to drink it, and I answered."
"Yeah but—"
"Be a good wife, my little human. Good wives obey their husband's wishes." (Please let the feminist in you shut up for a sec and enjoy cuz i know he'd say smtg like this)
"Kuna...I don't know. It's nasty, y'know?"
"I think you're forgetting that I am a monster, baby. I ate you out during your those days of the month. This is less dirty." He yaps a lot someone shit him up before I die from embarrassment.
Sukuna laid you on the bed gently after getting you undressed. For the first time in so.many years, you were feeling shy again in front of him. It was quite an amusing sight to enjoy for him. He summoned a mouth on both his palm and licked your nipples. He wasn't sucking yet, but the hint of sweetness still laced his tastebuds.
"I am going to squeeze your breasts in my mouth now, okay?" Why did he feel the need to announce it? Weren't you already so flustered?
The tongues on his palm licked the skin of your tits before squeezing it when his mouth crashed against your nipples, spraying the milk. Sukuna sometimes forget you're a human. You're delicate unlike. The strong force of the suction made you whine and moan so loudly, it vibrated through the walls of the bedroom.
"mhmm I did not know my beloved wife enjoyed such depraved acts," he smirked when his thighs brushed against your bare pussy. you were dripping wet.
"Don't worry, little one. Let me please you. Hope you have pumped out enough in that bottle of yours. Because, I am going to milk you dry today."
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sceletaflores · 19 days ago
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I COULD PLAY THE DOCTOR (I CAN CURE YOUR DISEASE)
pair: logan howlett x fem!reader
wc: 4.1k
contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, swearing, established relationship, logan's pov, written with origins!logan in mind, nat veering dangerously closer to a/b/o territory with every passing day, rut cycles, oral sex (fem!receiving), fingering (fem!receiving), multiple orgasms, gratuitous amounts of dirty talk, p in v, rough sex, biting, hair pulling, size kink, belly bulging, pussy pronouns, one (1) single use of the word daddy, scent kink, pain kink, breeding kink ofc, knotting (don’t look at me…), squirting, porn w/ plot, no use of y/n.
nat’s note: don’t look at me…i don’t know how many times i swore up and down i’d never write something like this but i’m a confirmed liar apparently so…here. i mean i just figured i'm in a rut artistically so therefore the only answer is writing logan in a rut physically...i can do what i want and i don't need to explain myself or my horny thoughts. also, i debated posting this in the wake of everything that's gone down over the past two days that is still escalating and will continue to escalate in the coming weeks, but i think everyone could use a little escape from how scary things may seem right now. take a break from all the terrifying news sites and read about logan wanting to breed you :) kisses!
divider by angel @saradika-graphics!
it's been another six months, and logan needs your help...
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The burn starts on the walk home from work, a pulse of heat deep in Logan's gut that grows with every step.
It spreads slowly, sinking into his muscles and seeping up his spine as he rounds the last corner, your place less than a block away now.
It caught him off guard this time, an itch burying itself under his skin earlier in the day only to get worse and worse as he worked.
He usually knew the signs well enough to feel them start creeping in, and he was dead sure it wasn't for another few weeks.
Apparently, he was wrong.
Logan’s jaw clenches as he picks up his pace, every nerve ending in his body straining to break into a full blown sprint at the thought of you, all alone and waiting for him.
His fingers curl into tight fists, nails pressing into his palms to ground himself, though it’s hardly enough. The faint scent of you drifts up from his shirt, not even a long day at the lumberyard enough to drown it out.
By the time he reaches your door, his heartbeat is a heavy thud in his ears, syncing with the building ache of desire wracking through his body like the earth rattling boom of a raging thunder storm.
He fumbles through getting his key into the lock, hands unsteady as he tugs the door open with a little more force than necessary and finally steps inside.
The second he closes the door behind him, the heat surges, thrumming through his veins and flooding his chest. Your scent fills the air completely, stronger now, wrapping around him so thick and sweet.
"Darlin'?" His voice comes out rougher than he intends, but he's beyond caring.
Your voice floats from the other room, casual, warm enough to send a jolt through him. Logan drops his axe from his shoulder, leaning it against the door as he starts down the familiar path to your bedroom.
You're spread out on his side of the bed—oblivious, curled up with a book, wrapped in one of the flannels he must have left the last time he stayed over.
Just the sight of you does something to him, like a match dragged against a strike pad, damned on setting everything ablaze.
You glance up, and the soft smile on your lips falters as you catch sight of him.
Logan knows what he must look like, his eyes all dark and predatory, chest heaving as he rakes his hungry gaze over you like a wolf watches a lamb grazing too close to its den.
He doesn’t say anything at first, just stalks toward you with a purpose that’s as undeniable as the heat pouring off him in waves.
The book slips from your fingers, forgotten, as you lean back, the small sound of your breath hitching under the weight of his gaze is music to his ears.
Logan pauses at the edge of the bed, towering over you, letting himself drink in the way you look. So soft and serene, like some kind of invitation that begs him closer. His flannel draped loosely over your shoulders–shrouding you in his scent. 
The urge to pounce on you fights against his normal instinct to savor every second, to draw it out until the heat pooling in his gut becomes downright unbearable.
“Been thinkin’ about you all damn day,” he mutters, voice thick and dark as molasses, rough from restraint he’s quickly losing. His knuckles brush against your thigh, then tighten, holding you in place as he leans down, his breath hot against your neck. “Thinkin’ about what I was gonna when I finally got my hands on you.”
Your skin blooms with warmth beneath his touch, and he grins against your neck, the edge of his teeth grazing you just enough to make you squirm. He growls low in his throat, that itch he’s been fighting nearly all day clawing its way up to the surface with a vengeance.
The primal urge inside of him screaming to claim claim claim take take take mate mate mate breed breed breed.
You tilt your head to the side with a soft sigh, freeing up more space for him to nose along your skin. “Is it time?”
Logan's breath catches as your question hangs in the air, thick with anticipation. The soft simplicity of it ignites the wildfire burning in his gut, every ounce of restraint slipping away like sand through his fingers.
“Yeah, baby,” he growls, slipping his fingers under the worn cotton of your shorts, feeling the bare skin beneath. “It’s time.”
You shift, hands going to the buttons of his flannel like you’re going to take it off. Logan stops you, taking your wrists in his free hand.
“Don’t,” he breathes, shaking his head hard enough that his hair flows with it. “Leave it on.”
The thought of you covered in his scent, of his scent mixing with yours to claim you on a level only he can discern sends his mind buzzing.
You look up at him with those wide, trusting eyes, and something in him cracks wide open. The tenderness of your gaze pulls at him, like a tether pulling him back from the edge, but that heat still smolders in his blood, fierce and unyielding.
Logan runs his thumb along the racing pulse of your wrist before he drops them. His hands venture lower, fingers pressing against the inside of your thigh, tracing a deliberate path that makes your body tremble under his touch.
You let out a shuddering breath, the scent of your arousal swirling through the air is enough to make him crave more.
In one rough tug, Logan yanks you towards the edge of the bed as he falls to his knees. Your hips held tight in his hands as he lurches forward, burying his nose in the soft junction where your leg and inner thigh meet.
He inhales deep, greedy lungfuls of your scent. A guttural growl rumbles through his chest, his eyes screwing shut at the sheer amount of too much that courses through him. He feels dizzy with it, high on the pheromones pumping from you in waves.
You’re soaked already, the wet fabric of your shorts melded to the shape of your cunt. He can’t help but run his nose along the slick seam of you, reveling in the way your legs twitch on either side of his head, in the short gasp you let out.
“Logan.” Your voice is nothing but a mewl, pleading and desperate.
“Missed you,” he rasps, his voice rough, almost unrecognizable. The edge of need in him makes his hands shake, sliding up your thighs, urging them even further apart as he settles between them.
Logan’s fingers dig into your skin, he lets his thumbs brush up, hooking them into the waistband of your shorts to tug them down your legs in one sharp yank. He groans at the sight of you completely bare, no underwear.
“Fuck, look at you,” he grates, his thumb coming down to slip through your dripping cunt. Your hole flutters desperately around him, needy little clenches like it’s trying to suck him in. “She’s all ready for me, huh? Been waiting for me to come home and give her some attention?”
“Please,” you whimper, your voice thick with longing, the sound going straight to his head, clouding his thoughts. 
Logan’s pulse races as he watches your body arch instinctively toward his touch, the desperate need in your eyes igniting the raw urges coursing through him.
He can’t deny you; he never could. You’re a feast laid out before him, and he’s starving.
Logan leans closer, letting his tongue flick out to taste you like he’s wanted to since he left for work this morning. 
“Fuck,” he breathes, closing his eyes and losing himself in the moment. He licks a broad stripe from your entrance to your clit, savoring the way your body responds, the way your legs tremble and your hips twitch against his mouth, seeking more. “Tastes like fuckin’ heaven, sweetheart.”
The taste of you is intoxicating—sweet and tangy, flooding his senses with every drag and swirl of his tongue.
Logan can’t help but moan against you, the sound vibrating through your body as he dives deeper, his nose nudging against your slick entrance as he shakes his head back and forth like an animal—rubbing the plush skin of your inner thighs red and raw with each rough drag of his coarse beard.
Every flick of his tongue sends a shockwave through you, and he revels in the sounds you make��each whimper, each moan, a siren’s call urging him deeper. He laves his tongue around your clit, sucking it gently, pulling at it with his lips as you writhe beneath him, begging for more. 
He keeps your thighs spread wide, two strong hands pinning them to the mattress so he can devour you just the way you deserve, the sharp dig of your heels into his shoulders only spurs him on.
Your hands bury themselves in his hair, tugging him closer, and he groans into you, letting his tongue delve deeper, seeking out every bit of sweetness he can coax from you. 
It’s pure sin, each sound you make, each shiver that runs through you as he takes his time, drinking you down like a man starved. 
The ache in him intensifies, his own need growing, pulsing. He’s hard, has been hard since he walked through the front door.
His cock strains against the zipper of his jeans, need pulsing in time with each pump of his blood through his shaft, circling around the base, threatening to expand even without the tight grip of your pussy surrounding him. His hips jerk up on their own volition, desperate for any friction.
“Just like that, Logan,” you gasp, voice breathy and trembling with pleasure. 
The way you say his name—raw, desperate—makes his blood run hotter. He grips your thighs tighter, anchoring you to the bed as he drinks you in, wanting to lose himself in you completely.
Logan pulls away just long enough to catch his breath, looking up at you with lust-drunk eyes, drinking in the sight of your sweaty cheeks, your heavy-lidded gaze, the way your chest rises and falls with each shuddering breath.
The pulse of his cock intensifies, urging him to speed things along. The base desire of his own instincts is getting harder and harder to ignore under your adoring stare.
He feeds his fingers into your clenching hole with no warning, a satisfied smirk tugging his lips up at your sharp gasp. He runs his tongue along his bottom lip, the entire lower half of his face still shining with your essence.
Your cunt swallows him, two thick fingers sinking into the velvety heat like it’s nothing.
Logan groans as he feels you clench around him, your walls fluttering and drawing him in deeper. “That’s it, baby,” he mutters, his voice hoarse with need. “So fuckin’ ready for me, so ready for daddy’s fingers in your pussy.”
Your mouth drops open in another devastatingly desperate noise, your hands twist his hair roughly, soft breasts rising and falling each time you gasp for air. The dim light of the sunset filters in through the blinds, highlighting the curves of your body, slick and shining with a thin sheen of sweat.
Every clench of your walls around his fingers shoots a thrill straight to his cock, making him ache with the urge to bury himself inside you. The overwhelming need to take you completely, to mark you and fill you, pulses through his veins until he feels like he might explode.
But he’s not done tasting you yet. Not until you’re practically dripping onto the sheets.
He lowers his mouth back to your core, sucking your clit into his mouth as his fingers pump faster. The sudden intensity makes your thighs shake around his head, and he grins against you. He wants to see you fall apart—wants to feel it.
“Logan—please, I…” You can barely get the words out, voice breaking as your whole body strains against him, desperate and needy.
The wet slap of his palm against your spit soaked cunt is loud in the quiet of your bedroom, blending with the loud keens that fall from your parted lips. He crooks his fingers, rubbing at that soft, spongy spot inside of you.
“Come on,” he mutters, slick lips brushing against your clit as he speaks. “Give it to me, baby. Show me you're ready for my cock."
He drags the sharp edge of his canine against your pulsing clit with barely any pressure, and you're coming.
Your whole body tenses, back bowing off the mattress as you let out a broken cry of his name. The bite of your nails digging into his scalp feels harsh enough to draw blood, a feeble attempt at grounding yourself against the onslaught of pleasure. 
Your trembling thighs tighten around his shoulders, gripping him like a vice as your shaking cunt gushes around his fingers. Logan groans at the feeling, eyes slipping shut as you drench his wrist and chin in your juices.
Even then, he doesn’t let up, fingers pumping relentlessly as he draws out every pulse, every aftershock of your climax, every tiny spray of your release splashing against his wrist. 
He’s lost in the feel of you—slick and trembling under his hands, the scent of your release filling his lungs, thick and intoxicating.
You slump back against the bed, body limp and spent. His own need is a driving, aching force now, clawing at his insides, demanding more.
He slips his fingers free from your dripping heat, dragging them through the wetness coating his chin as he licks them clean with a growl, savoring every taste.
“Good girl,” he purrs, voice thick with pride and satisfaction as he pulls back, leaving your thighs twitching in the wake of his touch. But he still isn’t finished. Not even close.
You barely have time to catch your breath before Logan crawls up the bed, his eyes locked on you, pupils blown with need. He looms over you, hands planting on either side of your head. His cock grinds against you through the rough denim, and you can feel just how thick and hard he is, throbbing through the fabric, demanding to be freed.
With a low groan, he shifts his hips, dragging his bulge along your soaked cunt, sending another jolt of pleasure racing through you. His hands are all over you, gripping your waist, hot and possessive.
“Feel that?” he asks, pressing his lips the wild flutter of your pulse, the need to sink his teeth in the soft skin of your neck raises the hair on the back of his neck. “That’s what you do to me baby. Got me hard as a fuckin’ rock, just aching to be inside you.”
Your arms circle his shoulders, clawing at the fabric off his shirt. “Need you inside me, Logan. Please, want it so bad.”
The pure need lacing your words, your scent calling out to him, the way he can feel the front of his jeans getting soaked through with the slick pouring from your cunt all pull him deeper into the recesses of his hind-brain. 
The mounting desperation to stuff you full of his cock finally reaches a fever pitch.
With a deep growl, Logan rears back as far as he can bear, just enough to tear his shirt over his head before he fumbles with the heavy buckle of his belt to free his aching cock.
He shoves his jeans down, boxers quickly following until there’s nothing separating him from the cool air of your bedroom. His cock springs free, hot and flushed an angry red color, drooling from the tip enough that it drips down to stain the pretty floral sheets of your bed.
Your eyes zero in on him, mouth dropping open at the sight. His cock so heavy it doesn’t curve upward to slap against his stomach, instead it hangs down to sway between his thighs as he moves closer. 
Your legs spread as he nears, slick covered thighs parting to make room for him to slot between them. So obedient, so good, so well trained.
Logan takes himself in his hand, nearly wincing at the blazing temperature of his skin. He secures his hand around the base, squeezing where his knot threatens to pop before he’s even got in you.
He slips the angry head through the folds of your cunt, slapping it against your clit with a wet ‘thwack’ sound. He can feel the way it twitches and shakes, just as desperate as him.
“Look at that,” he mutters darkly, eyes glued to where he’s laid his cock flat against your stomach, leaking pre-come all over your soft skin. “How’s it gonna fit, baby?” He shifts his hips, sawing his length back and forth to see just how deep in you he’ll be.
Your glassy eyes drop, a broken moan passing through your slack lips when you take in the sight. Your hips rise off the bed, grinding your cunt along the seam of his heavy balls, along the prominent vein trailing up the underside.
“Don’t worry, baby,” Logan grits out, eyes hooded and dark as he watches you grind against him. “You’re gonna take it all. Gonna make you feel every last fuckin’ bit of me.”
He groans, gritting his teeth as he presses in further, each inch a battle against the tight, molten heat that grips him like a vice. Your body shudders as he fills you, your slick warmth pulling him deeper and deeper, and he sinks down until he’s fully seated, his hips flush with yours. 
The pressure is mind-numbing, your walls clenching around him in rhythmic pulses that make his vision blur. He stills for just a second, savoring the way your body stretches around him, hugging him in a way that feels like it was made for him alone.
Logan watches your face as you adjust to the stretch, your brows pinched together, each breath coming fast and shallow, your eyes glazed with pleasure.
Then, your hands come to his shoulders, nails digging little crescent moons into his skin as you nod your head, ready.
It’s all the confirmation he needs. His hips pull back before he slams in again, the force of it jolting your whole body. He presses his forehead to your shoulder, teeth bared as he muffles a snarl against your skin.
Logan thrusts again, and again, and again, hips setting a merciless pace as he watches the way your breasts bounce with each thrust, each little shudder.
His mouth waters with the need to taste, to sink his teeth into your supple skin hard enough to pierce clean through, hard enough to scar.
Sweat drips down the length of his spine, across his brow. It mats down the hair scattered over his chest, his dog tags slick with it when they bounce off his skin with each thrust. The grip of his hands tightens on your hips, it’s taking everything in him to hold back and yet he knows you’ll still bruise tomorrow. 
Pretty hues of dark purples and yellows in the shape of his fingers, ones he’ll catch you admiring in the bathroom mirror, pressing your own fingertips into them to feel the dull ache—to remember this moment.
“Made for this, aren’t you?” he rasps, his voice dark and possessive. “Made to take me, to be mine.”
The words barely leave his mouth before he’s bending down to capture your lips in a searing kiss, swallowing your cries as he drives into you, pushing you both closer to that sweet edge.
“Fuck, Logan,” you gasp, breaking the kiss as your body trembles under him. “Can–ah!–can feel you in my stomach…”
Your hand drops from his shoulder, slipping between your bodies to rest over the sweaty expanse of your belly. Logan’s eyes follow your path, a feral growl bursting from his chest before he can stop it.
He’s transfixed by it, sure that if he pressed his hand to the soft skin of your lower stomach right over your own, that he’d feel it. Feel the way his cock punches up against your insides, so deep it's like he’s rearranging your guts to make room.
“Fuck.” His voice is nothing but a gravelly rumble, hoarse and dark as midnight. His hips speed up impossibly faster, chasing the feeling of your clenching walls choking the length of his cock so tight he thinks it might snap off at the base.
The flimsy headboard of your bed slams against the wall, creaky mattress springs screaming under his ministrations.
You feel like salvation, like the first rays of light after too many years spent in the dark.
He feels it with each kiss of his cock against your cervix, in the way your lips fit in the junction of his neck, in the red welts your nails leave on the skin of his back. He feels alive, truly alive, for the first time in decades.
“Say my name,” he grates, his hand cupping the back of your neck, coaxing you to look up at him, lips close enough to taste the heat radiating from his skin. “Tell me who you belong to.”
"Logan," you gasp, your voice breathy, edged with desperation as he pushes you closer to the brink. "Yours. Only yours."
A broken, shaky noise falls from his lips as he buries his face in your neck. He mouths at your skin desperately, presses his nose to where your scent is the strongest. 
Flashes of his release spraying your insides play behind his closed eyes, thoughts of drenching you so thoroughly that it has to take only forcing his hips to slam against the rippling muscle of your ass like you have your own magnetic pull. He feels it building, the slow swell of his knot presses against your folds, ready to burst.
“Come on, honey,” he begs, thumb coming down to rub slow circles over your slick clit. “Come with me, soak my cock. Show me how much you love it, how much you love me.”
Pathetic little uh uh uh’s fall from you with every thrust, broken up only by the breathy whines of his name as he pounds into you hard enough to push your body higher up the mattress. Finally, with a loud roar, he stuffs his growing knot inside of your cunt. 
Logan’s teeth sink into your neck before he can even think twice about it, the thick spray of his come filling you as his hands pull your hips down even further over his cock. He needs to be as deep in you as possible, to press forward until he can’t anymore, until his aching balls are flush with your gushing cunt.
He watches with rapt attention as you come with a loud wail, just from the feeling of his knot slotting into place. The clamp of your thighs over his hips is nearly as tight as the way your cunt seizes around him like it’s scared he’ll leave.
He groans at the over stimulation of your cunt milking his cock. Your slick leaks around the base of him, your shaking hole plugged so full it can only slip along the creamy ring to splash weakly against his thighs and hips.
Logan licks along the spot where his teeth pierced your skin, planting one last kiss before he’s taking you in his arms and rolling onto his back atop the mattress. The plush comforter sticks to his skin, your own sweaty body slipping against his as he tries his best to not jostle you too much while keeping you stuffed full of his cock.
He holds you to his chest until your breathing evens out, until your body stops trembling on top of his, until you’re nosing along the column of his neck.
“Logan?” Your voice is tiny, hoarse and scratchy. He feels your hand drawing absent minded shapes along the skin of his stomach. A circle, a star, a figure eight, a heart.
“Yeah baby?” he says, pressing his lips to the crown of your head, eyes slipping shut at the content feeling that spreads through him.
“Love you,” you murmur, voice soft but sure, the words slipping out without hesitation.
It’s the first time you’ve said it today, and hearing those three words from you sends warmth flooding through him.
Logan shifts slightly, pulling you even closer, his hand moving to the back of your head, cradling you with a kind of tenderness he used to think he’d never be capable of. “I love you too, darlin’. More than you know.”
Your body relaxes against him, the lingering effects of your shared intimacy still buzzing through your limbs, but now there’s a sense of peace, of safety, and a deeper connection.
He can feel the way your fingers curl lightly against his skin, the quiet smile that must be tugging at your lips as you press a kiss to the side of his neck.
And in that moment, with everything settled around him, Logan knows that this, right here, is everything.
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thornedswan · 1 year ago
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I've been giving a lot of time to myself and the things I enjoy lately.
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motherforthefamicom · 1 year ago
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lost like allllll my motivation for making art what the fuck =(
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unorthodoxfaithxx · 10 months ago
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Yandere Ghost Smut
afab reader ; nsfw
“This house is totally perfect! You’ll love it,” is what your realtor told you when they finally found a house within your budget. You loved the aesthetics of historical homes, so when they discovered an older house that not only was in your price range, but had just minor damages, they called you immediately. 
You moved in within the month. It didn’t take long to settle into your new home. There was a room with shelves meant for books, and you spent most of your free time there, enjoying the books from your collection that could rival a library. Sometimes, you would feel a sudden chill in the air when reading, and grow pensive. It would feel like someone was watching you. But besides that, nothing was out of the ordinary. You just assumed you were too stressed out and growing paranoid as a result. Everything was fine.
Well, it was. Until you started waking up with strange markings on your body. You woke up one day in a cold sweat, waltzing into the bathroom to wash your face off, only to find what looked like hickeys on your neck and upper chest area. Weird. Did you have bugs in the bed? Was it an allergic reaction to the new detergent you bought for the sheets? You had no idea. 
You were never able to solve the issue because the markings disappeared within a few hours, and didn’t come back again. Once more, you shrugged it off and assumed nothing was amiss. 
Yet eventually, things got even stranger. Your panties started disappearing one-by-one, and you were sure you hadn’t misplaced them. Specifically, your already worn undergarments would disappear from the dirty laundry bin before you could wash them. What the fuck?
“I don’t know, Mary,” you call your best friend one afternoon, “I feel like this place is haunted. And what’s even weirder is I keep getting these wet dreams…like every night. I’m not even sexually frustrated so I don’t know why I wake up wet or with markings on myself.”
“Maybe you got a ghost fucking ya?” She jokes around and you both get a laugh out of that. But for some reason, the deepest part of your being can’t dismiss that thought. 
You begin to grow paranoid and start searching for any signs in your house that someone else is living with you. You decide to enter the dusty attic, and find rather antique furniture and a box containing a photo of a man and a woman. He was handsome, albeit a little creepy looking, but what struck you as odd was woman next to him. She looked eerily like you. You brought the photos downstairs to do some research on your computer, but alas, found no information on the man or the woman. The only thing you found out was that there was a fire that had damaged the property all too many years ago. You felt the creepy sensation of being watched again, and called it quits for the night, opting to get some much needed rest.
That night, you saw him.
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It’s midnight when he appears in your room, watching your beautiful self slumber. You were so perfect, all those years ago when you left him, and even now. He loves the way the sheets drape your body, but slowly peels them off to reveal that you’re in nothing but a bra and panties. There is a slight sheen of sweat on your skin as your eyebrows furrow cutely in your sleep. 
His angel must be having a nightmare, but he can take care of that. Gently, he trails his cold fingers over your curves. He admires your beauty, so happy to see you once more. He can’t wait another minute.
While you’re still on your side, he unclasps your bra, relishing the way your tits fall free without the support. They look so beautiful and perfect, he can’t even begin to describe how enchanted you make him feel. 
You roll onto your back. He slides your underwear to the side, revealing your pretty cunt to his ghostly eyes. With a delicate touch, he rubs your clit in small circles, playing with you. 
You gasp at the touch and he smirks. Your shuffling does little to deter him from his objective.
He’s on the bed with you, intently staring at your lower half. He admires your folds and moves them open and closed with his fingers, revealing a leaking hole that was your wetness. With a gulp, he slides your underwear off you, wadding it into a ball, burying his face into it as he takes a whiff of your scent. He’d be tasting the real thing soon enough. Once satisfied, he pockets your undies for safe keeping. He tilts his head down to your lower body, shifting into a more comfortable position. With a breath of anticipation, he slithers his cold tongue over your vagina, moaning slightly at the sensation. 
He’s been doing this every night he could manifest, and it never got tiring.
This time, and he doesn’t know why, you wake up, staring down at the mysterious man in terror as he laps you up like a man thirsting in the desert. You mean to run but you can’t move. You feel something cold and wet tying your body to the bed. You try to close your legs from your violator, but his icu hands grip firmly on your thighs, keeping them wide open for him to shove his face between. 
Under the moonlight, the two of you make eye contact but he doesn’t stop, instead opting to send you a wicked smile. “Good morning, love,” he says gently from beneath you. “I missed you so, so much. You know that?”
You’re in a state of shock, words screaming in your head but not quite reaching your vocal chords. The only sound you can make is a whimper as he shoves his tongue further into you, his nose rubbing you causing further pleasurable friction. He sucks, licks, and rolls your clit with his tongue. 
Suddenly, he slides a cold finger into your hole and you gasp, arching your back only to be stuck back down again. “Don’t move, pretty thing,” he scolds you. 
“F-fuck,” you finally manage to whisper, heart racing, “Who are you?”
“Someone who’s been watching you for a very, very long time.” He’s stopped licking you, instead moving to pump another finger into your pretty cunt, thrusting in and out at a moderate pace. His eyes show so much love, desperation, and lust in them that you have no idea what to do or where to go. Then it clicks. The man from the photo. That’s who he was. How could that be possible? Was he an actual ghost?
“I’ve been so lonely without you, princess. When you left me to burn, do you know how heartbroken I was? But now you’re back, and we can finally be together again. I’m not letting you leave me another time.”
He now has three fingers inside of you, picking up the pace. The lewd sound of slick fingers sliding in and out of your cunt drives him wild. His face is back between your thighs again, lapping you up and suckling on you until you’re visibly shaking. 
“Aw, sweet girl. Gonna cum?”
You don’t want to, but you feel something hot and heavy coming.
“Shit. Cum in my mouth, sweetheart. Wanna taste everything you got.” He latches back onto you. 
Your stomach drops and you let go, mind very distressed but body obviously in heaven. Your pussy spazzes out on him and he moans as he licks up the mess you leave behind. With a wipe of his mouth he grins, eying you like a rare prize he had just one at the fair.
He grabs onto you, embracing you in a hug you can’t run away from. Seriously, why can’t you move? He notices your struggles and laughs, snuggling into your chest. 
“Ah ah ah, no running away, love. I’ve waited so long for you. You’re not going anywhere.”
He flips you to where you’re face down, ass up. Your vagina is dripping, juices sliding down your thigh. He licks his lips before biting his lower one, admiring the roundness of your ass and your now puffy and pink pussy. 
“Oh, love. You got no idea what you do to me…”
You feel something cold and hard tap the entrance of your walls, and you freeze. Oh god, was he going to fuck you? His hands are on the sides of your ass, but you feel another set of cold hands grabbing your arms, and even another pulling at your tits. You whimper at the overstimulation.
“Enjoy the hands. They’re all me.”
Before you can reply, he’s sliding his dick through your entrance. Your pussy quivers at the sensation and he laughs. “Did you just come from that, love?”
Once you take all of him, he leans forward to whisper in your ear. “I want to hear you moan, sweetheart. Go on, make some noise for me.”
As he’s taking you from behind, a hand shoves its fingers into your mouth, and you gag on it. The sets of hands on your breasts are now fondling them, pinching and squeezing. You’ve never felt so much at once before, and you eventually yield to the pleasure, moaning as he thrusts into you.
“That’s it, baby. Take it. Take it all. You’re fucking mine,” He snarls, and you whine at how hard he’s pounding into you, ferocity now evident in his demeanor. 
You slurp and suck on the fingers, only for it to pop out of your mouth and slide into your ass instead. You cry out at the sensation. A hand is sliding circles around your clit as he fucks you, sending waves of pleasure over your body you’ve never known before. 
“Too much!” You cry, sobbing with pleasure.
He gives you a kiss on the neck. “Almost done, love. Just keep taking it, okay? You’re doing so good for me. God, you’re fucking perfect.” His thrusts became sporadic, and you know he’s close. 
In the end, you come once more, and you feel he does too. When he pulls out, you collapse on the bed, blacking out. Morning eventually comes, and you feel someone is holding you from behind. A set of hands grope your body as you wake up. 
“Morning, love. Ready for round two?”
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gilverrwrites · 4 months ago
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Man, I need something with Jason's big hands, so big that one hand can cup your entire sex...
He will smack your clit, cup your sex, you'll grind on it and he will do something while cupping your lady bits.
I can live off of your body heat
Jason Todd/Reader, 2.4K
AN: I've actually had mutiple req for Jason and/or Dick slapping and pinching the readers clit which is like so specific, but I get it. Like I feel yall so much. I know Jay being a giant is fanon thing, but goddamn my 5'4 ass wants to be crushed by his hands so bad. CWs: Mentions of Jay's scars, swearing, size difference, Dom!Jay, teasing, Jay being really rough, nipple play, clit pinching, clit slapping. Petnames: Baby, babe, babygirl, good girl, Name-calling: Filthy girl, bitch, slut. Recommended listening: Body Heat - Kate Nash
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There’s a scar on his chest. Actually, there are many scars on his chest. However, there’s one in particular that stands out; a long taut piece of skin that stretches from his left shoulder blade, right down to his sternum. Its pale sheen stands out against his tan skin and begs you to trail a finger along it.
Despite the temptation, you don’t.
Jason hasn’t slept this well in weeks so you daren't risk waking him yet. Instead, you watch the gentle rise and fall of his torso under the mellow light of the morning sun until the need to move is too great.
Your feet have barely touched the ground when a pair of sturdy arms close around you, enveloping you in the warmth of the very body you’d just been admiring and pulling you back into the bed. Or more, pulling you on top of his body, primarily by his choice, partially because there isn’t enough room for you both to lay without some overlap. Every time you mention buying a larger bed, Jason vetoes it; says he likes the close proximity. That feeling your body against his helps him to relax and you can’t really argue with that sentiment.
“Where’d you think you’re going?” He asks from the spot in the crook of your neck he loves to nuzzle into. He peppers the side of your neck with sleepy half-kisses.
It would be endearing, were his hands not already under the oversized Red Hood tee you’d stolen from him to sleep in.
“Oh, I don’t know.” You hum, hands wrapping around his wrists, purely for additional skin-on-skin contact. You couldn’t stop him from ghosting his calloused fingertips up your body if you wanted to. It’s strange, and arousing to think that he can, and has trapped both of your wrists in with just one hand.
“You don't know?” He’s rousing properly now, amused by your answer.
“Probably just to shower, make a coffee, maybe read a book until you wake up.”
“I’m awake now.” He reminds you, rolling his hips to emphasise his double entendre. The heat of his mourning wood grinds against your backside, and at the same time, one of his wandering hands finally settles on a target. He cups the underside of your breast, and you can’t help sucking in a breath as he pinches your nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Already so brutal, despite the slow, sensual way he’s been exploring until now.
You sigh in relief when he lets go, allowing just enough time for the blood to rush back before he clamps down again, this time in a twisting motion that has your hands shooting up into his hair. “Jay!”
He seems unaffected by your attack on his scalp, chuckling into the tender spot behind your ear, and causing a chill to run down your spine. “Yeah, baby?”
“You should be asleep.” You’d intended to deadpan for comedic effect, but it comes out in short, strained breaths that only serve to make you sound needy as hell.
It’s at this point you hear a snapping sound, followed by the light sting of your underwear’s elastic waist snapping against your skin, drawing your attention downwards just in time to feel Jason cupping your entire sex in just one of his hands. All the while he never stops the assault on your now raw tits.
“Do you want me to stop?” He questions. At the same time, he palms your folds through the fabric of your underwear, pressing the ball of it against your increasingly aching clit.
“Feels nice.” You sigh, letting your head fall back against his shoulder, allowing him further access to the sensitive skin of your neck which he eagerly accepts, honing in to suck and nibble, sloppily leaving marks in his wake. You don’t want to back down, but God, you do not want him to stop.
“Come on baby, I need a real answer. Do you want me to go back to sleep?” He eventually circles back, lips barely leaving your flesh as he speaks. Distracting you from the erotic sting of your nipples and the heat between your legs as his rugged fingers push all the right buttons. “Or do you want me to keep playing with your cute little pussy?”
“Fuck, Jay please- “ You’re ready to give in but as you speak he hooks two fingers under the crotch of your underwear, and the resulting, embarrassingly wet squelch that sounds out as he presses them between your folds has you hissing.
“Please what?” He goads, now upping the pressure. He’s doing it on purpose, cause he’s a fucking tease. “Please stop?”
“No! Please don’t stop touching my cunt!”
“Your cunt? You’re fucking filthy, girl. You know that?” He plants a quick, hard kiss on your cheek and, as if you weigh nothing, lifts you by your pussy, repositioning you for his own ease until your legs are stretched wide, his own wedged in between to keep you in place. The speed at which he moves is enough to give you whiplash. You barely have enough time to gasp at the retraction of his hands before they’re on you again, settling in new positions. With one hand he completely pulls aside your panties, exposing your hot, soaked folds to the tepid air. The other pulls your tee over your head before cupping the back of your head, forcing your gaze downwards. “Don’t move. I want you to watch everything I do to you. Can you do that for me, baby”
Shit. You think your heart might beat out of your chest. All this vehement energy so early in the morning. “Yes, Jay!”
Immediately contradicting yourself, you turn your head to admire his handsome profile. The determined squint of his eyes, the bed head, the morning stubble, you really lucked out with him you think as you lean closer to kiss his cheek. Before you can make contact Jay's grip tightens on the back of your head, sharply turning you back to watch as he dips two long fingers between your slit. Your clit practically twitches at the sight of them; long enough to span from top to entrance in excess.
You try your hardest to watch as he repeatedly strokes your lips in short, lazy motions but it’s a challenge not to close your eyes and get lost in the moment. It’s even harder not to throw your head back and scream when he suddenly sinks his fingers around your clit and starts pinching, it. Tightly rolling the sensitive bud between two curled fingers.
“Shit, Jay.” You pant through gritted teeth. “That hurts so good.”
Just like with your nipples, what feels even better is the rapid return of blood flow when he releases it. He repeats the process twice over, laughing every time you flinch or whine. Whispering in your ear about how you’re his “good girl”, how “you can take it” every time you dig your nails into his arm in an attempt to relieve the pain.
“Help me out here babe. Spread your pussy out for me.” He instructs, playfully gasping into your ear when you pull back your lips to reveal your now dark and swollen core. You’re too turned on to care about the sight of it. Happy to expose yourself, certain that the moment he starts kneading you with care, you’ll cum in seconds.
Jason must be thinking the same as he dips one finger into your entrance, just enough to coat it with your arousal before returning to your puffy clit to rub around it in circles. Even at twice the size, your clit is smaller than the tip of his finger.
“Ohh, I’m gonna cum soon.” Before you’ve even finished your sentence Jay retracts his hand, ripping a distraught weep from you in the process. You’ve been here a hundred times before, splayed out for him, gasping, and begging for his touch, but the red-hot shame at your flagrant desperation never eases. “What the fuck, dude!?”
“Dude?” Without warning, Jay comes back down. Hard. Your whole body shakes under the intensity of the vicious slap he delivers to your clit. “Who the fuck are you calling dude?”
He doesn’t give you enough time to answer before he smacks your open folds again. Flipping the switch in your body from heady to adrenaline-filled arousal.
“Say my name.” He barks as he dispenses a third slap.
“Jay!” You don’t have it in you to say his full name, but it seems to satisfy.
“Say it louder.” His words are punctuated by the lewd echo of sharp, stinging strikes. “I want the neighbours to hear what a dirty fucking slut you are. Want them to know who you belong to.”   
“Jason. You Jason!” You close your eyes and throw your head back, crying with everything you can muster, not caring how raunchy or pathetic you sound. Ignoring the pain of your own nails digging into your flesh. “Jason. I’m yours, Jason.”
“That's better.” He growls. Finally, his arm falls slack. With no friction from your dripping, wanting walls, Jason glides two fingers into your entrance and you tremble, your whole body tingling, ecstatic to finally feel him inside you. It’s just two fingers, two impressively strong, thick fingers that make you feel so full. “You’re so beautiful, you know that?”
Abashed by his sudden gentleness you open your eyes once more, positioning yourself to look at him as best you can. He’s one to talk. You’re always telling him he could be a model if he decided to quit being a part-time crime lord, part-time crime fighter.  
You’re unable to concentrate on him for long, however, as he starts pumping in and out of you in torturously slow thrusts. After all the excitement, it quietens your mind and eases your muscles. For the first time since he’d repositioned your bodies, you notice the pressure of his cock, pulsing against your lower back. The rigged hardness of it makes you feel fuzzy and content at his equal levels of arousal.
You stay like that for a few minutes, simply enjoying the calm as Jason gently massages your insides until it’s not enough. You need more, your body yearns, your core practically twitching for his touch on your clit again. An orgasm is approaching steadily, but you’ll get nowhere without it.
The heel of his hand is so close, so sturdy, you don’t even think about what you’re doing, you just start undulating your hips, rutting up against him in unstable motions. He doesn’t stop you; in fact he curls his fingers and brings his palm down closer, letting you use him to chase your orgasm.
“That's it, baby. Hump me like a bitch in heat.” He coos so softly in your ear that it would set your pulse racing if it wasn’t already running at a mile a minute. “Remember I'm the only who does this for you, the only one who can make you feel so full and cock drunk on just my hands.”
He's right, he's so fucking right.
“Keep that up, I might just cum too.”
“Fuck me.” You breathe, affected both by his words and the reminder of his throbbing dick squeezed between your bodies.
“Not until you cum on my fingers.” He’s only half joking. “Can you do that for me baby, cum all over my finger like a good little slut?”
Fuck yes, you can. You want to say, but all your energy is focused on riding his hand, fucking yourself on his brawny fingers, and gyrating against his palm like it's your job. His groans and rasps become a motivational mantra as you keep bucking your hips.
“You’re nearly there.” He comments, able to feel your walls tightening around his digits, convulsing uncontrollably as it hits you. It takes all your strength to ride it out; to keep going as you topple over the edge but fuck it’s worth it for the full extent of your release. “That it babygirl, cum for me baby, fucking soak me.”
Worth it for the explicit sound of your wet cum streaming against Jason’s hands, for the rush of ecstasy that bleeds through your body, and especially for the unexpected heat that spreads across your lower back in spaced-out intervals; Jason's own ejaculation seeping through his boxers and dispersing on your skin.         
Simultaneously, you both grow limp, breathing in time with each other until the rapid movements of your chests begin to ebb back to a steady pace.
“You were so good for me, I’m so proud of you.” Jason praises as he rolls your bodies onto their sides, never releasing you in the process, but allowing him a better ability to press a smattering of kisses to the side of your head, lingering along your jawline. You're grateful for his sweet words, but still too fucked-out to speak, but you coo when he lifts a hand to run his thumb along your neck, presumably checking out his earlier handy work. You arch to get a better look at him, and given the subtle, but smug smile on his face, you’re certain he’s left quite the mark.   
“Let me guess.” You find your voice. “It’s not just the neighbours who’ll know who I belong to?”
“Hmmmm.” He tilts his head and puckers his lips in mock consideration. “I think you should donate all your scarf.”
“Jay!” You punch his shoulder, and he has enough decency to play along, briefly leaning back as though you could even make a dent on his towering frame. “Is it really bad?”
“No. No no no.” He’s lying through his teeth, snickering as he leans in to crush your lips with his own. His skin is slick with sweat you realise when you reach up to gently grasp his other shoulder and guide him closer to you. His morning breath is frankly kind of gross, but yours probably is too. Nevertheless, it’s a price you’re willing to pay for his affection.
“What do you wanna do now?” He asks when he pulls back from your mouth, continuing to press kisses down your neck, along your collar, and slinking closer to your chest with each brush. He asks some variation of this same question everytime you fuck. Letting you direct how much you can take from him in one go or what kind of aftercare you need.
“I don’t know.” You hum, imitating your earlier indecision, as you stretch against the mattress. “Shower, coffee, and a book still sounds good to me.”
“Sounds very good. Mind if I join?” He’s not actually asking, that much is evident as he lifts you in his arms and cradles you against his chest as he stands. You’ll both be grateful to get your sticky, cum soaked underwear off. You’ll be even more grateful for the chance to lather and massage your boyfriend up in soapy bubbles, to really get your fingers on those pretty scars that call to you. Maybe you can convince him to take a nap later when you’re curled up on the couch, reading together.
“Wouldn’t have it any other way, Jay.”
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hoshifighting · 1 month ago
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WARNINGS: non-stabilished relationship, oral (f.receiving), big!cock vernon, semi-public sex, reader is bent over the university's rooftop railing, alcohol, hangover, ditch classes, mentions of getting caught,
thinking about college fling!vernon so badddd 😫
college fling!vernon that you would meet in one of those lame college dorm things that somehow ends up being packed even though the music’s trash, drinks are watered down, and you can’t move without bumping into some dude playing beer pong way too seriously. seungkwan’s buzzing around, doing his best “life of the party” impression, talking to anyone who’ll listen—mostly about how great his friend vernon is (the boy that looked too quiet for the setting) “you gotta meet him,” seungkwan had said earlier, face glowing like he'd just won the lottery. you’d been mid-sip of some cheap punch that tasted more like regret than alcohol. but you nodded because why not? you’re there, stuck, might as well meet the guy.
so here you are, watching vernon from across the room, trying to look like you’re not watching him. he's got this frank ocean shirt on, the one that’s slightly faded, like it’s seen too many nights like this, and you can’t help it—you have to comment on it, break the ice before this gets any more awkward. “nice shirt,” you say, sliding up next to him, trying to sound casual like you didn’t just spend the last five minutes psyching yourself up to say that.
vernon looks at you, and there’s this second where you swear he’s sizing you up, not in a judgy way, just like... observing. “thanks,” he replies, voice low, almost lazy. “you a fan?” you nod, and he gives you this small, almost imperceptible smile. it’s the kind of smile that makes you feel like you’ve passed some sort of test, like you said the right thing. and just like that, the awkwardness melts. he loves music, that much is clear, and suddenly you’re talking about frank ocean’s best album like you’ve known each other for years.
the thing with vernon? he doesn’t say much. but he’s got this way of looking at you—direct, almost too direct, like he’s daring you to break the eye contact first. you’re talking, yeah, but his eyes are doing most of the work. they flicker over you in that slow, lazy way, like he’s got all the time in the world to take you in, to make you squirm.
and you do squirm. because damn, when was the last time someone looked at you like that? like they see you?
he doesn't try to hide it either—the fact that he finds you hot. there’s no playing it cool with vernon, no pretending he’s just here for the conversation. but he’s not crass about it; it’s more subtle than that. like, instead of throwing some cheesy pick-up line your way, he just lets his eyes do the talking, like the way they drop to your lips when you laugh, or the way they linger on the curve of your neck when you turn your head. it’s fucking magnetic, honestly. you’re not even sure if you’re saying anything coherent anymore, but you’re still talking because it feels like a game now. you want to see how long you can keep this up, how long you can hold his gaze without breaking.
so, somehow, after that intense stare-off that lasted way too long, the night blurred after things got a little hazy after the third round of whatever cheap alcohol was in that red solo cup. the party faded into background noise, and all you could really focus on was vernon—how his hand would brush against yours, how his eyes didn’t leave your face, even when you weren't looking. and damn, the way he kissed you, slow at first, but chocking you at the same time, had you practically yanking him back to your room by the end of the night.
college fling!vernon that is butt-naked in your bed in the morning. as you wake up to a dull throb in your head and an even duller one between your legs, the kind of discomfort that reminds you exactly what went down last night. you hiss, eyes squinting against the light filtering in through your half-assed curtains, feeling the sheets sticking to your bare skin.
you groan, sitting up slowly, body protesting every movement. your legs feel a little wobbly, and as the blanket shifts, you wince at the slight sting between your thighs. it’s not intolerable, but enough to remind that you definitely overdid it.
vernon stirs beside you, stretching out like a cat before blinking his eyes open. he sees you, and without a word, sits up, grabbing a half-empty water bottle from your desk. instead of handing it to you like a normal person, he holds it out without the cap—just letting you sip straight from it. it’s messy, some of the water spills on your chest, but whatever, you’re too thirsty to care. you down it in a couple of gulps, the cool liquid soothing your dry throat.
you’re about to bitch about it, complain about your sore muscles or whatever, but vernon’s eyes are already on you, half-lidded but sharp, like he knows exactly what’s going on in that head of yours. before you can even think about capping the bottle, vernon’s already leaning down, shifting the covers off of you, and making his way between your legs. “gonna help with that hangover,” he murmurs, hands gently parting your thighs as he settles down, face close enough to your core that your breath catches. and yeah, you’re hungover, sore, but the second his mouth touches you, all that discomfort? gone.
he’s sloppy, so sloppy, like he’s thirsty for it. his tongue drags over you in these messy, wet strokes that have you gasping, body tensing under his touch. vernon’s got this way of eating you out that’s chaotic and precise. like, one second he’s all over the place, licking you like he can’t get enough, and the next, he’s right there, focused on your clit, swirling his tongue in tight circles that make your toes curl.
“shit, vernon,” you gasp, your hand instinctively finding his hair, tugging as he goes at it like it’s his fucking job.
the slurping, the little moans he’s making like he’s the one getting off—it’s obscene. he’s not even trying to be neat about it, just going all in, licking you like he’s lost in it, like he couldn’t stop even if he wanted to. and honestly? u don’t want him to. not with the way your hips are lifting off the bed, chasing his mouth, chasing that high that’s building so fast it’s almost embarrassing. your hand shoots to his hair, tangling in it, pulling him closer because jesus christ, this is—
“so fucking good—ah!”
your body arches off the bed, thighs trembling as he pushes you over the edge faster than you can even process. the orgasm slams into you, fast and hard, and all you can do is ride it out, his mouth still on you, not stopping until you’re completely wrecked. you cum in record time, panting and shaking, and vernon pulls back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand like it was nothing.
“feel better now?” he asks, voice all smug and hoarse, and you want to say something—anything—but your brain’s too scrambled to form words. he chuckles, before crawling back up the bed, like he didn’t just ruin you before breakfast. he knows he’s got you.
college fling! vernon that when you’re sitting in class, staring at some powerpoint slides that you know you're never going to remember, your phone buzzes in your lap. half paying attention, you glance down at the screen. it's a message from vernon, and already, a smirk tugs at the corner of your lips because you know this dude barely makes it through class without some kinda stunt.
“yo. wanna ditch?” is all it says, and you can already picture him slouched in the back row of his own class, practically melting from boredom. god, he’s so bad at hiding when he’s bored. you bite your lip, torn between ignoring it like a good student or just saying fuck it—like you always do when it comes to him. why even pretend? with a quick glance to make sure the professor’s not paying attention, you text back:
“where we going?”
he sends the location pin. and it’s for the rooftop.
now, you know the university rooftop’s supposed to be off-limits. it’s plastered with no entry signs, and apparently, they’ve got some security guards roaming around to make sure no one goes up there. but vernon? he doesn’t give a fuck about rules, and, honestly, neither do you when he’s involved.
five minutes later, you’re sneaking out of class, the adrenaline already starting to build as you make your way up the stairwell, heart racing. when you finally push open the heavy door to the rooftop, vernon’s already there, leaning against the rail, hat on backwards, that signature lazy grin spreading across his face when he sees you.
“thought you might leave me hangin’,” he teases, eyes flicking down to your legs as you walk up to him.
“you wish,” you scoff, rolling your eyes but feeling the heat rise between you two the second you’re standing next to him. the air up here is cooler, but with vernon looking at you like that? it’s making it hot, at least down there.
“so... what now?” you ask, though you know exactly what he’s got in mind.
he doesn’t answer right away, just steps behind you, hands sliding down your waist, squeezing your hips as he pushes you gently toward the railing. “bend over,” he mutters.
you hesitate for a second, glancing at the drop below you. “you want me to fall off this fucking roof?”
vernon laughs under his breath, stepping closer until his body presses into yours. “nah, i got you. promise.”
you roll your eyes but do as he says, leaning over the edge, gripping the metal railing for balance. your heart’s pounding in your chest, half from the thrill of getting caught, half from the fact that you’re so fucking turned on. and when you bend over, purposely sticking your ass out, vernon lets out a low whistle.
“goddamn,” he mutters, hands gripping your hips harder, fingers digging into your skin. “you always gotta tease me like that?”
“maybe,” you throw over your shoulder, a smug smile on your lips as you give your hips a little shake, knowing exactly what you’re doing to him.
“fuck.” he groans, and you can hear him fumbling with his belt behind you. the sound of the metal buckle makes your breath catch, and soon his cock’s out, heavy against your skin as he drags it along your entrance. he’s teasing you back now, taking his time, like he’s trying to make you beg for it.
“you want it?” his voice a little strained. you can almost picture the way his brows are furrowed, cheeks probably turning pink from how hard he is.
“you’re too fucking big to be playing games like this, vernon,” you shoot back, though the words come out breathier than you intended.
that makes him pause, his grip on your hips tightening, and when he finally slides inside you, you feel the stretch—god, you feel all of him. it makes you gasp, your fingers clutching the metal railing as your body adjusts to how thick he is, pushing in until he's buried to the hilt. vernon’s groan is low and drawn out, like he’s losing his mind a little, too. “shit. you—” he starts, voice hitching, “you feel so fucking good.” you moan in response, pushing back against him, and that’s all he needs. he grabs you by the waist, holding you tight—so tight you’re sure there’ll be bruises tomorrow—and starts fucking into you, each thrust rocking your body against the railing.
“hold on,” he growls, one hand sliding up your back to grip your shoulder, pulling you back against him, making sure you don’t fall forward. the metal of the railing digs into your stomach, but you’re too lost in the feeling of him pounding into you to care. your knees r weak, but vernon’s holding you so tightly that you don’t even have to think about standing.
“fuck, vernon,” you moan, turning your head to try and catch a glimpse of him. his jaw’s clenched, beads of sweat gathering at his temple, but when he catches your eye, he looks embarrassed for a split second.
you manage a smirk. “you’re—fuck—big.”
he blushes, actually blushes, but he doesn’t stop. if anything, he fucks you harder, grunting something that sounds like an unite of a complaint and a thank you. his hat’s still backwards, so you grab it, yanking him down into a sloppy kiss, lips crashing together as his hips slam into you, fucking you into the rooftop’s edge.
he pulls away just long enough to bite out, “we’re gonna get caught if you keep moaning like that.”
“then stop fucking me so good,” you snap back, voice shaky as he hits that perfect spot inside you.
vernon just grins, all cocky now, and mutters, “never.” with a deep thrust that makes you see white, angels and everything.
he doesn’t stop until you’re both cumming, bodies so in sync that you don’t even notice the footsteps until they’re too close. panic flickers in your chest as you realize someone’s coming—probably a guard—but vernon just pulls out quick, shoving you behind a vent as the guard makes his rounds. both of you are a sweaty, fucked-out mess, trying not to laugh as you adjust your clothes, and vernon gives you one of those signature smirks.
“guess we’ll have to finish this next time”
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leeloooonfire · 4 months ago
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based on this post about Steve's internalized bi-phobia:
Steve has known for years.
And how could he not when Tommy's freckles come back tenfold each spring like a flower peaking it's head through the last layer of snow? Or when Matthew Carver's hair have a reddish brown tone that turns blond after they spent the last days before summer break practising outside and remind Steve of liquid gold? Or when he watches Star Wars and Harrison Ford, rugged and witty, comes into view and twists his stomach in knots? How could he not know?!
Steve knows he finds guys as attractive as girls, known for many, many years. But.
But he can't. Not when Tommy sneers at that boy in their literature class who likes flamboyant clothes and wants to be an actor on Broadway. Not when the people they meet in Indi who are like Robin and Eddie 'fully queer' and talk about people like Steve as if they're traitors and scams. Not when he reads the newspaper and is assaulted by Reagan and his folk preaching about the 'fag pandemic' or how his father nods in approval and mutters 'another sinner gone for good' when the news play on TV and they occasionally mention the crisis that kills people like Robin and Eddie and him.
Like him....
It doesn't matter how much he loves sleeping with his nose pressed against Eddie's collarbone or that he thinks he'd like to kiss Eddie and hold his hands and wake up beside him until they're old and wrinkly and complain about bad knees.
He is, but he cannot be a queer, half a fairy '50% like me, 50% like Eddie' as Robin jokes.
He will not be a bisexual, he can keep it inside, keep it hidden, buried deep inside him no matter how much it pains him. He can be the straight friend who goes to pride and bakes rainbow cakes and marries a woman even though his heart screams in an ear ringing cacophony, 'Eddie, Eddie Eddie Eddie!'
This is how his 20s go: loud and hurting and yearning and hiding and more noticeably being disgusted and ashamed of himself for simply being able to love men the way he can love women.
He's 29 when his wife, Becky, leaves him. It's not just Eddie and this shameful secret that weights heavy on their relationship, but the scars and all the other secrets he is unable to explain to her that drive Becky finally away - back to Boston. She leaves him alone in that tiny house they bought three years ago with their Saint Bernard puppy they lovingly named Bernadette.
He's 30 when he goes to a coffee meeting of the bisexual group meeting in Chicago, nearly turning the car multiple times, hands and knees sweaty with fear that they won't want him there. They do want him there, welcome him with open arms, and talk about things Steve knows all too well: 'When I fell in love with the first girl, I ran. I like men just fine, so I hid my crush. It's just easier, when your parents hate gays, when the world is shaming our community, when we're dying.' He finds a second home there, and learns - learns about queerness and bisexuality, about trans and gender non conforming people and physical attraction versus emotional attraction. He learns about his past and present and about his future, about their history and where they want to go, how they want to mold their world to fit people like them into it without the pain and the hiding.
Steve is 33 when he finally comes out to everyone dear to him. To the kids who aren't kids anymore and to Joyce and Hopper, and then his parents. this does not go well, but Steve doesn't want, doesn't need their validation anymore. He has his family, his friends, his support system who love him not regardless of his sexuality but because of it, love him because it's part of him. He comes out to Becky, too and that goes much better. they want to be friends, in the future. She's also met Gary who works the the NY Times and wants her to follow him into the big city. So Steve is looking forward how that goes, their tentative friendship.
He is 34 when Eddie comes back from his latest world tour and wants to take a break to rekindle with his uncle, to write new songs, to take a breather. It's only natural that Eddie moves into Steve's guest room and takes over his space on the couch where he cuddles Bernadette while Steve is in the kitchen and makes them grilled cheese and tomato soup for dinner.
Its even more natural when their feet meet while watching a movie and they lean into each other in the kitchen, dawn barely there, while they wait for the coffee maker to finish.
Steve's 35 when Eddie finally kisses him and he kisses back. No hurt, no shame, no guilt gnawing on him, Steve finally allows himself to be with the person he truly wants - regardless of their gender.
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Dorm leader's reaction when Mc falls asleep on their shoulder for the first time.
Riddle would blush a lot. You were doing homework together. It would get really late and you would start to get tired. So you decided to rest for a while. Riddle doesn't really know what to do. He tries to stay as still as possible. 100% would accidentally wake you up.
Leona would have persuaded forced you to act as his full body pillow once again. Usually you don't fall asleep during this… Because you are busy pet Leona when you can but this time you are very tired. So you fall asleep too. Leona would wake up after a while and see you sleeping. He would smile to himself and drift back to sleep.
Azul would surely die on some level. At least mentally. You had offered to help him maintain the Mostro longue. (Azul would pay you well.) And at one point you would accidentally fall asleep against his shoulder. Azul would be in a mental panic. He really wouldn't know what to do. If you moved at all, Azul would startle and wake you up.
Kalim would have invited you to a party he had arranged. The party would last late into the night and you started to get tired. So at some point you just fell asleep and used Kalim's shoulder as a pillow. It would take a while for Kalim to notice. He would enjoy this for a while but wake you up quickly. Kalim would certainly offer you a guest room in Sacrabia.
Vil would have invited you over. He'd like to teach you a thing or two about skin care. So you went because you were interested. It would last really late. And at some point you fall asleep against his shoulder. Vil was first going to wake you up and reprimand you for your behavior. But your calm stops him. You are just so beautiful. So Vil would let you rest for a while.
Idia would have invited you to play video games with him. You two had a lot of fun. However, you started to get tired and fell asleep at some point. Idia.exe would have stopped working. His hair would turn bright red and they he blush. Idia would have just frozen in place. He wouldn't dare move at all. Which would be a shame because Idia would really like to take a picture as a memory.
Malleus would have come to your place to watch a movie. It was a fun night and you ended up watching a lot of movies and eating ice cream. However, by the last movie you started to get tired and you fell asleep on Malleus' shoulder. Malleus would find this funny. Many people are afraid of him but you are not. This is yet another peculiar way of showing it. Malleus really enjoys seeing your sleeping face… maybe he would have to use magic to keep you from waking up quickly. Malleus really doesn't want to go anywhere.
Vice dorm leaders are here
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goomyloid · 10 days ago
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got uty au pilled again, sorry... more info under the cut
an AU where ceroba, in the end, refuses to inject kanako with the serum. even after all her research, she just can't trust that it's totally safe. while kanako accepts this, she still wishes she could eventually be of use somehow, and indirectly blames herself for her father's death.
despite all this, with kanako alive, ceroba is able to grieve chujin in a far less desperate way, still having her daughter by her side. as the years go by, ceroba devotes more and more of her time to finishing chujin's research in hopes of finally making a serum that can save the underground. kanako is determined to help, too -- together, they clean up chujin's lab and make it a far nicer place to work, because they're in this together now. well, in theory.
ceroba still certainly takes care of kanako and does her best to be a good mother, but as time passes, ceroba spends more and more time in the lab trying to find an answer. kanako, being the social butterfly that she is, can't bring herself to always stay shut inside like her mother; she travels daily to Oasis Valley, making friends and becoming the town darling. as ceroba spends more time working, kanako spends more and more time taking care of the estate, trying to spend time outside whenever possible.
but it gets kind of lonely. the ketsukane estate is off outside of Oasis Valley, and not many people come by. she's worried about her mother, who's been shutting her out as she becomes more desperate to find a solution. there's only so much to do at the house.
then, clover falls into the underground and explores the dunes. there are barely any other kids at this spot in the underground -- finally, someone around her age! she's immediately entranced by them and determined to become their friend, even after finding out they're a human -- that just makes them cooler...!
but there's a problem; kanako has seen her father's tapes, she knows that a human soul would be extremely valuable to producing the serum. of course, she wants to help save the underground, and she wants her mother to finally be rid of stress and be able to spend time with her again... but after spending time with clover, kanako knows there's no way she can let clover die. they're like the sibling she never had...
and kanako can't even let her mother know that clover exists, either; she knows exactly what will happen if ceroba finds out there's a human here. and yet, a secret part of her wishes and hopes that maybe, just maybe, ceroba could find value in clover as a person and then they could all live in the ketsukane estate together. it would be a dream come true! maybe there's even some way clover can help ceroba without having to give up their soul...?
but things aren't destined to work out that way. any number of things could happen.
clover could peacefully move on in their quest through the underground, leaving a sad and lonely kanako behind.
or, ceroba finds out about clover in one way or another, and things are not looking good. but would she choose to take clover's life at the cost of her daughter's one and only friend?
what if clover didn't come in peace, but in vengeance?
or maybe ceroba somehow accepts clover, growing to respect them after all is said and done, and she tries to experiment on a living human soul?
or maybe, wracked with grief and loneliness, kanako discards her mother's warnings and takes the new, updated serum herself, determined to become the hero for her family like she always wanted...?
or, something else could happen.
what if, after an unhappy ending, kanako wakes up on that same day again, waiting for clover to come by the ketsukane estate for the first time? she doesn't even know how it's possible, reliving the same few weeks over and over. she just wants to find her happy ending, and she'll search and search for as long as she needs to.
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how long can she watch the same endings play out over and over?
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mysicklove · 8 months ago
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Toddlers are known to look at their caregivers to see how they should react when they trip and fall. Even if the stumble of their wobbly legs doesn’t hurt them, in many cases, they will still cry if their guardians fuss over them. Although, if the adult doesn’t give them a time of day usually the little beasts get up and go back to playing with their friends.
This phenomenon is pretty common for the toddler you raise. The small child seemed to master how to react during certain situations depending on who is watching him, you or his wicked older brother.
The three of you go to the park where Yuuji runs around the playground, letting out giggles and squeals when Nobara and Megumi play tag with him. You somehow drift off on Sukunas shoulder on a nearby bench, closing your eyes and slumping against your boyfriend, content with the fact that he has his eye on the reckless child.
As to be aspected, Yuuji, after being warned very harshly by his “doting” brother to go slow when going down the steps of the playground, ignores the caution and sprints down the stairs only to miss a step and fall straight to the bark. It wasn’t a hard fall — his legs collapsed beneath him, and he landed on his knees with a plop. No harm, no injuries, mostly just shock of him falling a couple feet into the bark.
The first thing he does is look toward you, unconsciously questioning if he is about to cry out from the pain so that you can pick him up and coddle him. But he can’t catch your sleeping gaze and instead finds himself face-to-face with Sukuna.
His brother only raises an eyebrow at him, shaking his head as if to say “i dare you to cry right now”. The two of them make eye contact for longer than necessary, silent communication, and Yuuji sniffles, gulps, and slowly gets up before going back to playing.
The elder Itadori puts his hand in front of your eyes, blocking out the sun from disturbing your sleep and continues to watch his younger brother walk much more carefully up and down the playground. It was good to not coddle the boy; Sukuna didn’t want Yuuji to grow up spoiled; he was to be a man, strong just like him.
But of course, Sukuna happened to be raising him with you, a person with the biggest soft spot for the child. And so when you wake up from your nap, and Sukuna calls the boy over to leave, you notice the tiny piece of bark sticking out of the boy's leg. It was surface level — Yuuji didn’t even notice it, but still, the image looked much more gruesome than it was really.
You gasp and begin to fuss over his “injured” leg, asking the boy if he tripped and fell if he was hurt at all if he was okay. And suddenly, to Yuuji, it seemed that maybe that fall did hurt a little too bad. Maybe he wasn't okay like he thought.
Tears begin to well up in his eyes.
“Don’t you give me that shit. You’re fine. You tripped like five minutes ago, and I know it didn’t hurt.”
Yuuji shakes his head, ignoring his brother and rubbing his eyes while he looks up at you. “O-Owie…” he whines, rubbing at his knee.
“Poor thing, did you hurt yourself? I’m sorry baby, I wasn’t watching.” He reaches his hands up to you, and you scoop him up while he begins to cry into your neck.
It was a fake cry, obviously enough. It makes the elder Itadoris mouth hang open. “You little liar!”
“Don’t be mean, Sukuna.” You say, teasing him because you realized quickly enough that the boys “cries” didn’t produce any liquid from his eyes. You didn’t mind spoiling the boy either way.
Sukuna, realizing you also understood, lets out a dramatic groan, shaking his head before exclaiming, “Why am I surrounded by weaklings?!”
You just laugh at him, thinking about to a few years earlier during highschool. Sukuna was the one who would dramatize his pain whenever he got in a fight. You would listen to his whines (after he profusely exclaimed that he won by a longshot) over a busted lip and a black eye while you would fuss over him, just as you are doing to Yuuji.
He got into a lot of fights during highschool because Sukuna could never get enough of you fretting over him. He liked when you played nurse and coddled him, way too similar to the way you cooed at Yuuji.
The two of them, although Sukuna would never admit it, are way too similar. Both are strong and independent boys who happen to turn into whiny, attention-seeking puppies when you are around.
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supernaturalistthings · 7 months ago
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Acts of Service
Dean Winchester x Female!Reader
Summary: Dean Winchester has been loving you for years in his own way and with a little help you finally realize it.
Warnings: soft core smut +18
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You watch from across the bar as Dean sips his whisky from a short glass. You're on your third tequila pineapple and he looks as amazing as ever. His jaw is sharp and he has some slight stubble from not shaving for a few days. You, Sam, and Dean had just finished a tulpa case in Pennsylvania and had decided to celebrate with a few drinks at a local dive. You had worked with the boys for a few years now and it had become a tradition to celebrate after a win.
Meanwhile on your side of the bar you were starting to feel the bass of the music vibrating through you in a different way, the drinks were going down too easily, and the urge to dance was coursing through your being. You had sipped your thoughts away to your heart's content.
You had one too many to drink and you were starting to feel it. If you didn't watch yourself you were going to wake up in somebody's front lawn very shortly.
The feeling of warmth on your waist breaks you from your thoughts and you look up to see an unknown, attractive, dark haired, blue eyed man, with one of his hands on your waist.
“Sorry i didn't mean to startle you…” he says and then continues “Can i buy you a drink?” raising his to make sure you can understand what he's saying over the loudly playing music. It's not that he wasn't attractive, hell he was very attractive. But he wasn't Dean Winchester. He didn't have stubble, or piercing green eyes, or a gruff sultry voice that could make a girl melt. So you raise your full glass as an answer and in hopes to send him on his way but he doesn't budge. He leans in once again to make sure you can hear him and says
“Well, how about a dance?” He pulls back to see your answer but you look across the bar. Dean's eyes are locked on you and the dark haired man before you. If you didn't know better there was a twinge of jealousy behind his eyes. His jaw is locked and his hold on his glass is strong. You think back to all the times you had to watch him shamelessly flirt with local girls and even go home with them and something in you screams that this is your turn. Your eyes snap back to the man in front of you and you say
“Yes”
You down your drink and leave the glass behind. He puts his hand on your lower back and leads you to the part of the bar where everyone's dancing. You wrap your arms around his neck and start swaying your hips to the beat of the music. He's a pretty good dancer, but that drink you just downed starts to catch up with you and all of a sudden you feel hot, really hot. Your vision is slightly blurred and you can't tell if you're about to throw up or pass out.
You lean up to his ear and say that you'll be right back and start stumbling your way towards some fresh air. The walk to the exit feels like it takes a literal year but you finally get there and fling the door open. Little did you know there was a pair of eyes on you watching you your whole way out.
The familiar sensation of warmth on your waist once again breaks you from your thoughts as you've steadied yourself against the wall of the building. You look up expecting to see the newly met set of blue eyes but instead you're met with bright green ones. It's Dean. The confusion must've been written on your face so he clears it up for you.
“We’re going home” He wraps one hand around your waist and throws your arm over his shoulder so he can walk you side by side to his car. He opens your door and sets you in the passenger seat and buckles you in. He walks over to his side, gets in, and the next thing you hear is the engine roar to life. It hits you that you're leaving the bar without saying goodbye to the handsome stranger, or paying your tab, that you werent ready to leave.
“Wait, let's go back… i'll get the next round if we go back right now” You slur out. This makes Dean laugh deeply and he looks over briefly to take in your disheveled state. You never get like this so it's always hilarious to him when you do, and unbeknownst to you it amazes him how you can still look so beautiful.
“I don't think even the most careless bartender would give you another drink right now. You're cut off” He replies still laughing.
This makes you pout and you turn away from him and look out the window dramatically.
“Oh cmon sweetheart… you'll thank me in the morning trust me…” he breaks the silence
“The one time I find someone to take home…” you mumble out with an emphasis on “I”. He snaps his head over and looks you up and down. His grip on the steering wheel is turning his knuckles white. He lets out an unnoticed frustrated sigh and says
“You didn't really want him… did you?”
This causes you to slowly look over at him and he's already looking at you while momentarily darting his eyes back to the road. He wants an answer. But you don't give it to him, ashamed of how and what you really feel. You just bury your head back into the side of the door without saying anything until the motel comes into view. You're exhausted all of a sudden. You hear his door open and he opens yours which causes you to almost fall out of the car. He catches you and laughs and sits you back up straight. He unbuckles you and says
“Okay enough of this” and with that he scoops you up princess style and carries you to your motel room door. You're secretly thankful, as you are embarrassed that you're this drunk, you would've never made the walk. It feels like you're getting more inebriated by the minute. He puts the arm that was carrying your legs down gently and holds you there.
“I'm going to search your pockets for the key okay…” he warns you before gently diving his hands into your pockets until he grasps the key. He opens the door, swings it open, and then picks you up once again to carry you to the bed. He lays you down gently on top on the sheets and the next thing you know your eyes are closed and you have the deepest sleep of your life.
You wake up and the first thing you see is a glass of water on the side table. You reach for it and drink it like you haven't had anything to drink in days. You're pretty sure it was the best thing you've felt in a while, and this only reassures the notion that you are extremely hungover. You don't remember anything from last night other than dancing with some mystery man for a little bit while a pair of familiar green eyes watched you from across the bar. That's it. You lift the sheets that were comfily tucked around you off and see clothes laid out and tylenol behind the glass of water. You must've set yourself up for the morning once you got in. You're a genius is what you're thinking. You couldn't have been that embarrassingly drunk, that crosses your mind and soothes your conscience. You're thankful for the sliver of soberness in you last night and throw on the fresh clothes, brush your teeth and go to head over to Sam and Dean's room. You knock and Sam opens the door. The smell of greasy breakfast food hits you and warms your soul. It's exactly what you need right now.
“Tell me you got something for me” you ask while looking hopefully at Sam.
Sam laughs and says “Yeah Dean went earlier, he got your usual”
You look over at Dean who keeps his eyes on his food and say thank you. You take a seat at the small motel room table and start diving in. You look up and Dean is looking at you and smiling softly.
“What?” you say cluelessly
“Nothing” he replies, dropping his smile and focusing back on his food and you do the same.
“So how was last night? Was it epic” Sam says with a curious smile, eyeing the both of you.
“Not really, I was sober enough to set my clothes out and get under the covers so I'd say it was kind of a bust” You say laughing as you take another bite of your breakfast. Everything gets quiet for a second and you wonder what you said to cause such an awkward vibe.
“I'm going to shower” says Dean and he gets up without even looking at either of you, walks to the bathroom and shuts the door behind him. You hear the shower start and that's when Sam leans in and looks at you seriously. You pause mid bite and look at him confused.
“What?” you say setting your plastic fork down
“You know Dean got you home last night right?” he says directly
“I figured…” you reply, “so?” you continue.
“So… Dean set your clothes out…” it's starting to hit you, he continues “He drove to get you tylenol because we only had the strong stuff…” It hits you, “He set out a glass of water… he tucked you in, he woke up early and got your favorite breakfast. Hell he even paid your tab” Sam says looking towards the bathroom.
It felt like the world stopped spinning, in that moment cars stopped driving, birds stopped chirping. Everything was still. The realization was flowing through every molecule of your being and you were absolutely frozen, other than your jaw dropping you couldn't move. Dean Winchester cares about you. He cares about you as more than a friend, he sees more. It keeps repeating in your head until hopefully it sinks in. He sees more.
How could you have not seen this before? Maybe it's because he knew the real you, he knew more about you than anyone else, and how could anyone love or care about you once they do? That question can no longer plague you because He sees more.
All you can say is, “Thank you Sam”
He replies with a nod and takes his breakfast and says that he'll be in your room. The door shuts behind him and you're left alone awaiting Dean to step out of that bathroom. You’re carefully forming your thoughts making sure what you say is exactly what you feel. It's going to be perfect. You hear the bathroom door creak open and you quickly stand and turn to face a half naked dean who's only wearing jeans and drying his hair with a towel. He pauses when he sees you're the only person in the room. You feel like you might explode.
“Where’s Sa-”
“I care about you… alot” you interject. The silence is deafening. So much for your deep thoughtful speech. You can't take the silence and break it by continuing “and I know you care about me too…”
He's absolutely frozen, cornered. It was now or never.
“How did you-”
“I can just tell” you cut him off. You smile proudly, only now realizing you have the ability to make the Dean Winchester speechless. You're scared you might’ve overstepped, might've been too enthusiastic when he starts laughing and smiling. Maybe Sam was wrong? But that all changes when he says “i don't just care about you… im in love with you…”
It was your turn to be frozen. “You don't have to be yet… but I want you to know that I've been in love with you for a while now. I love your laugh, your smile, hell I even love what you get for breakfast.” Your eyes are wide in disbelief, he walks forward until he's close enough to where he can reach out and brush some hair out of your face and then continues. “I'm painfully in love with you. With everything about you” He’s desperately scanning your face for any sign of reciprocation, any sign of hope. He gets his sign when your mouth curves into a bright smile beaming at him, and before he can even realize it he has one of his own shining back at you.
You don't know who leaned in first, but the next thing either of you know is that your lips are moving against each others. You're running your fingers through his still damp and already messy hair. His hands are at your waist and holding you there like fine art. You were to him, something timeless, thought provoking, head turning, beautiful. This kiss was the start of Dean Winchester's future and he knew it. It tasted sweet and he savored every movement of your lips with his own, grateful for anything you give him.
His hands were electrifying you with every soft touch. You were melting in his arms and you can't get enough of him. You were pressed flush against his bare chest and you can't help but run your hands over his broad shoulders while continuing to kiss him deeply. You can't help but still be in a bit of disbelief. You could kiss him for hours, and by the way he's kissing you, he could too.
He pulls back and says “I don't want to rush things…”
“I was thinking the same thing…” You say, but yet again you have no idea who leans in first but your lips collide once again. His hands are on the sides of your face and yours are resting on his stomach. The room is filled with the sounds of your kiss and occasional involuntary moans, this feels better than either of you had imagined and you can't help it.
“When did he say he'd be back?” Dean mumbles into the kiss referring to Sam.
“He didn't” You mumble back barely breaking the kiss to do so.
You both simultaneously pull back and look at eachother wide eyed and it's like a lightbulb goes off over both your heads, but you can still see the worry plaguing his eyes so you say. “It'll be perfect no matter what because it's us… You and me.” You lace your fingers with his and at that he smiles and pulls you to him and towards his bed. He picks you up and lays you on the bed with him on top of you and it makes you both laugh into the kiss. When suddenly a pang of worry hits you. The last thing you want is for Sam to walk in on what's about to happen. As if on cue you hear the door shut and both of your heads snap to a frozen and panicked Sam. Dean begrudgingly and with a groan stands up and off of you and you immediately sits up. You're utterly embarrassed but Dean is just annoyed.
“Really?” Says Dean
“I wasn't expecting that, I mean I was hoping things went well but… wow” says Sam while setting the remnants of his food on the table. Dean finds a shirt in his bag and throws it on along with his shoes and grabs your hand and starts leading you towards the door. “We’ll hit the road in 2 hours until then … stay here” Dean says to Sam and he rolls his eyes. Dean shuts the door behind you both and starts walking you towards your room with a grin like he's won the lotto, and in his head he has. You laugh and he says
“What? Checkout isn’t for another two hours, might as well make the most of it…” He leans over and places a quick kiss to your temple. Your eyes flutter closed for a second. You've never felt this type of contentment before. You realize you never said i love you back earlier and you immediately look to the side of his face and say
“I love you too by the way” He immediately looks over and smiles wider than you've ever seen him smile before. In the moment he feels the contentment the same as you. His life just got a hell of a lot better and he knew it.
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northlt03 · 9 months ago
Text
Amortentia (Jegulus)
Regulus didn’t smell. It drove James insane sometimes. 
He didn’t smell after quidditch practice, or even after just waking up. It was another one of those things about him that made him seem “perfect”. James hated it. 
Regulus was so much more than the image he presented himself to be, but he’d gotten too lost in playing the part, maybe that’s all he’d become. 
Every single “imperfection” had been driven away by his mother. Not just for Regulus, but for Sirius as well. The Black family had an image to maintain, high society they had to live in. They couldn’t accept body odor, crooked teeth, or any blemishes on their skin. 
James didn’t know how they did it. But none of the Blacks had any negative body odor. No matter how much they sweat. 
It’s not to say they don’t have a particular smell. According to Slughorn, everyone had a distinct smell, something unique about them. 
Sirius smelled like wet dog fur, James knew this because he slept in the bed next to him and every night Sirius turned to padfoot in his sleep. 
Narcissa smelled like spring, like her namesake— narcissus. Strangely intense, yet cool and floral. James had only placed the smell last year when they had grown the flower in herbology. 
Walburga black smelled like roses, James imagined that’s what the queen of hearts from Alice in Wonderland smelled like. It was suffocating if you had the displeasure to be near her, like a thousand thorny plants squeezing your windpipe. 
James wasn’t padfoot, he didn’t memorize smells. But it’s hard not to notice how his closest friends smell. It made him feel warm, to be surrounded by so many people he loves, all with a distinct smell. 
Remus smelled like chocolate, like wet fur, wooly sweaters, a warm fire and old books. James could tell that’s what Sirius was smelling in his cauldron right then. That’s the reason he was thinking so much about smells in the first place. 
Sixth year brought with it responsibilities, but also more advanced potion making. James always wondered why he didn’t drop potions when he had the chance. 
Sirius was blushing so hard, his skin tone matched the pink potion. James had to stifle his own laughter as Remus tried to go over the recipe once again to make sure they had made it correct. They were all paired up for this particular class. Sirius and Remus at one cauldron and James and Peter next to them. It used to be Sirius and James together, but after one too many pranks in the classroom, Professor Slughorn had separated them. 
“Clockwise!” Remus corrected Sirius just before he could have ruined their potion. They were the second ones to finish their potion so Slughorn was already making his way towards the boys. “Bloody hell, Sirius. Stop overmixing it”
James exchanged a look with Peter. Why had he let Sirius pick Remus while pairing up again? Oh that’s right— Wingman duties
James was nowhere near as great as Lily or Remus or even Snivellus in potion making, but he managed. Mostly he used Remus’ notes and applied common sense. It drove Remus insane sometimes, how much work he’d have to put in to memorize something, only for James to make an educated guess about it. James couldn’t really explain how he knew stuff, he just did. Call it pattern awareness, or whatever. 
“So from the way Moony was yelling at Padfoot, I’m guessing we have to stir it clockwise?” James raised an eyebrow.
Peter only snickered as he watched their other two friends bickering like an old married couple. “What’d you think Moony smells, James?”
“Wet dog” James replied easily, “And that awful old leather jacket Padfoot refuses to throw away,”
“I bet Sirius smells chocolate and wool” 
James had known Peter for years, they'd had baths together when they were babies, learned how to ride a bicycle from James’ father, spent ten christmases trying to make gingerbread houses and so many more memories. 
That’s all to say, James knew what Peter smelled like. He had a distinct cologne he swore worked wonders on the ladies, and as stereotypical as it was for the rat to love cheese, he really did. 
So if James was in love with his best mate, that’s what he would have smelled. 
But instead when he dared to take a whiff of the potion (after coughing violently because it was pretty strong), all he smelled was broom wax, old books and paint. 
“Mmmhmm” Peter grinned, “Camembert, and candy. Smells so great I’m hungry now. And you?”
“Old books” He frowned, “And paint”
“Careful, Pads might think you’re in love with Moony too”
James wasn’t sure what he was expecting. He was glad he didn’t smell lilies, relating to his old embarrassing crush. It had been months since he had obsessed over Lily Evans and even thinking about that time made him cringe. 
James had quickly realized he had no idea what love was supposed to be. He grew up watching his parents so immensely in love he’d been in love with the idea of love and the idea of Lily Evans. And ideas are dangerous things to be in love with. 
For his sake and Lily’s, he was glad he stopped liking her. 
But after Lily… well, there had been someone James had grown a liking too. And he couldn’t help the disappointment when he didn’t smell Regulus in the potion. He took a few more whiffs, just to be sure. But to no avail. The potion still smelled the same. 
James wasn’t sure why it bothered him so much. Maybe he was just incapable of loving. Because he couldn’t smell Regulus, that had to mean he wasn’t in love with the boy as he had previously thought. This was clearly a Lily situation again. And that bothered James. Mainly because he wanted to be in love. Not just because of his fantasy of being so in love with someone, but also because Regulus was so lovely. 
He was witty and sharp, beautiful and sarcastic, knowledgeable and petty, headstrong and stubborn but also sweet and funny. He seemed to positively glow under James’ praise. James loved it when he flushed pink, James loved it when he shot back a retort, when he smiled a secret smile for only James, when he dragged his long fingers over James’ skin— touch for the sake of touch. James loved every single thing about Regulus, the way his eyes crinkled when he tried to stop himself from laughing at one of James’ bad jokes, the way he sneezed, the way his lips parted, the way he tasted so sweet when they kissed, but most of all, James thought he was in love with Regulus.
He wasn’t sure what smell he was searching for. He knew Regulus didn’t smell. He didn’t have a signature smell like Peter’s cologne. But James was still disappointed. 
He wanted to make Regulus feel loved, he wanted to be in love. He had said it once and Regulus had said it before. 
Three simple words. 
And what if they were a lie?
A knock on the door made Slughorn change directions. He had been heading toward James and Peter’s potion to check it, but he walked toward the open door. 
James would have recognised those curls anywhere. 
Even before Regulus was fully visible, stepping into the doorway, eyes searching the class, James was grinning. Who cared what the stupid potion said? The potion could be wrong. Maybe James and Peter brewed it wrong. 
All that mattered was that Regulus lit up James’ world, it genuinely felt that way. Just passing him in the hallways, getting to stare at him as he stared at the stars, just listening to him talk about astronomy or his favorite paintings felt like a reward to James.
So yeah, fuck the potion. 
James Potter was in love with Regulus Black.
That’s when he spotted the paint splattered on the edges of his otherwise neat robe. He was handing a book he must have borrowed back to Slughorn. His eyes landed on James and though he tried to keep his composure in thanking the professor, James grew ecstatic at the acknowledgement.
The effect Regulus had on him really had to be studied. 
Just before he left, he sniffed the room, his eyebrows furrowing in that Regulus Black way as he mock glared at James. He had the face of an aristocrat but the mind of an artist. Maybe he was both.
James was thankful his table was the closest to the door and the others were too busy either bickering, fawning over their potion or still completing it. 
“You smell, Potter” Regulus scrunched his nose in disgust, turning to walk away, “Didn’t you shower after quidditch? It’s disgusting, it’s a wonder the whole room isn’t gagging with how strong it is, even your sandalwood perfume can’t mask it.”
James could barely say anything before Regulus had walked away. 
Paint splatter, the old books in the room of requirement and Regulus’ personal collection, the broom wax from when James had watched him polish his broom before a match against Hufflepuff. 
Slowly the pieces floated together and James thought he had started floating too. He felt light, like a floating lantern, a ball of warmth in his chest. 
And what had Regulus been talking about? James twisted his ankle his last game. Madam Pomfrey hadn’t cleared him to fly the whole week, he had been moping about not being able to play. 
When he looked at Peter, his friend was looking back with an amused look. 
“Fucking hell, Prongs”
“Don’t tell Padfoot”
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