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sleepymarimo · 5 months ago

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toji x reader // sfw!

𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈 doesn’t remember the last time he was gifted something.

“you got me what?” he asks again, kicking his sandals off at your front door for what seems like the millionth time.

you rise from your couch, the wood creaking slightly as you do so. “just some stuff for you to keep here so you stop using mine,” you reply, the shrug of your shoulders indicating how little of a deal it is.

in the kitchen, you rinse out the glass you’d been using. toji’s footsteps are barely audible over the sound of running water.

“there’s a few pairs of sweats in the hall closet,” you tell him, setting the glass down to dry. “and some other stuff in the bathroom. shampoo, body wash, toothbrush…”

the assassin lets out a small huff, crossing his arms as he leans against the doorway. “you tellin’ me i reek or something?” he accuses, more so to brush off the odd feeling building in his gut.

“maybe.” comes your playful quip, your head tilting as you rest your weight on the counter and look at him. “but seriously, you just come around so often,”- his nose wrinkles at that, as he knows he crashes here much more than he should- “that i figured i’d just get you your own things. it’s not like it cost me an arm and a leg.”

with a yawn you stroll toward your room, lightly poking his chest as you pass him. “plus, you use up all of my stuff, dummy.”

he grunts, his eyes following you until you’re out of sight. “i don’t need fancy clothes or any of that crap,” he murmurs to himself, taking a few steps toward the hall closet.

his large hands wrap around the handles, sliding the doors open until he sees a pile of clothes resting on one of the shelves. three black tees stacked atop three pairs of sweats, some boxers and socks in a little box, all for him.

he picks up a shirt without hesitation, the fabric smooth against his calloused fingers. his brows furrow in concentration, maybe unease. this is for him, it’s his, and maybe that’s why this shirt is the softest one he’s ever felt.

with a gruff exhale, he snatches a pair of sweats and a clean pair of boxers, his steps unhurried as he heads for the bathroom.

the fan hums above him as the lock clicks into place, his eyes immediately darting to the shelves to see the new toiletries. his stuff.

inside the shower, toji’s shoulders sag.

it’s as if the water is washing away his defenses, the rugged, nonchalant exterior he wears now melting away in the comfort of your shower.

toji pops open one of the new shampoo bottles, taking in the scent and pouring it onto his palm. he wonders if this smell reminds you of him, if you put some thought into each item.

while he rubs it into his hair, he thinks about if he should pay you back. it’s not like he asked you to get him all this stuff, but still.

even when you’d first started letting him crash on your couch, you hadn’t demanded much in return.

“just don’t make a big mess and be decent, alright?” he remembers you saying.

and he was just fine with that. free room and board just for something so simple? he’d be a moron to decline.

it was only after around a week that he felt a familiar itch. he wouldn’t be in your debt, wouldn’t wait for the day when you’d inevitably ask for something.

so, he offered what he always did- himself. that’s what women usually wanted from him, anyway.

his idea didn’t exactly go as planned. if anything, it made him feel more conflicted, made him wonder why the hell you kept him around.

were you just lonely? did you enjoy his company?

“oh, no… i don’t do that,” you’d said, holding your hands up, flustered but adamant. “you don’t have to sell yourself to me or anything. who does that? like, what?”

the water patters on the tile floor, his body and mind feeling more clear and clean than they’ve been in a long time.

when the faucet squeaks shut, he steps out and snorts as he sees a new, fluffy black towel hanging beside yours behind the bathroom door. he grabs it, rubbing his scarred skin dry and running it through the damp strands of his hair.

the new clothes feel like heaven, truly.

in your room, engrossed by your phone, you barely hear the sound of the bathroom door opening. toji’s steps are almost silent, his arms crossing over his chest as he watches you beneath the covers.

he’s amused as you snicker at some post, the dim screen lighting up your face in the otherwise dark room.

“let me crash here, yeah?” he suggests, though it’s more of an order.

you’re startled, rightfully so, hiding your phone against your chest while you sit up straighter. “oh, you scared me! new clothes and you think you’re all that, huh? too good for the couch?”

yet, even as you chide him, you’re peeling back the covers for him, grabbing the extra pillows and moving them out of the way.

a satisfied grunt leaves him as he spreads out on the mattress, careless of the space he takes up. he tugs the blankets over his person, settling in like a big cat.

he curls into you. you don’t mind.

while you scroll along with one hand, the other supports his head and absentmindedly strokes the skin of his cheek.

his eyes watch you, his breaths becoming more steady and even. he’d never admit how much it means to him that you’d gotten him new clothes, new toiletries, practically a new home.

it’s more than he deserves, but he finds himself wanting to take as much as he can get.

he’s yours, even if he doesn’t know it. and, as the days go by, he wonders if you can be his, too.

#jjk x reader #fushiguro toji x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #toji x you #toji x y/n #toji x reader #toji fluff #more toji fluff ofc #my heart yearns for him #soft toji my beloved

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yanderenightmare · 6 months ago

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TW: nsfw, yandere, toxic relationship, friends with benefits, guns, threats of harm and death, name-calling

gn reader

When you open your heart to your fuck-friend, he sighs with rust.

You still have his cum inside your hole as he tears you a new one—telling you he doesn’t have the fucking time or the fucking energy to deal with lovey-dovey confessions right now—he has enough bullshit on his goddamn plate already without having to consider you and your fucking feelings as well.

If you’re not going to shut up and fuck him, you might as well shut up and fuck off.

So you do. The latter, that is.

Part of you knew it was going to end up this way. You with your heart broken and him with the blood on his hands. But part of you had hoped as well—hoped he felt the same way—hoped your words would soften his edges and wash away all the muck in his head enough to let you in.

You’d read a little too much into those gentle touches he sometimes bestowed upon you in his weaker moments—that soft way he cried when holding onto you during the night, wordless and clingy and begging you not to go.

But the more you think about it, the less you understand why your heart aches. It doesn’t really make much sense after all…

In truth, he’s an asshole. Always been. And you deserve better.

He’s always so angry. Always on something mudding up his blood. Never with anything nice to say. It doesn’t really matter how you’d held him in his nightmares or patched him up when he’d stumbled through your door drunk and bloody.

Scarred boys in need of fixing aren’t good for your health—especially when all they have to offer you in return are callous words of rejection.

He’d always been secretive. He wasn’t a very good lover—but you're not entirely sure if he was ever even a good man. The wounds he’d dreg to your apartment in the middle of the night always left blood on your sheets. He never agreed to go to the hospital—always insisted your first-aid kit was enough, even when he'd come to you with bullets you’d have to dig out with a pair of tweezers.

You realize he’d been using you. You were convenient and stopped being convenient the minute you wanted more—and upon the realization, you move on.

And then he comes crawling back…

Shivering in the rain like a beaten street mutt—looking starved and sick like one, too. There’s blood on his shirt and a grim darkness in his eyes. He tells you to let him in, and you only barely have the guts to tell him to go away.

He has this tortured look on his face—as though something’s your fault, as though you’ve wronged him in some way, as though you’re the reason he’s out in the cold with nowhere to go.

Barging in and slamming the door behind him—he locks it and pockets the key—ignoring your questions as you ask him what the fuck’s gotten into him. He looks deranged—water dripping from his matted bangs, eyes reddened, and cheeks streaked. You only now notice it isn't because of the rain.

“You said you wanted me, didn’t you?” he huffs. “Here I am.”

You’re tense. You hadn’t felt like that with him before, it takes you a minute to realize it’s because you’re scared. After all, you’d wanted him all those other times—rough or otherwise. And now you didn’t want him at all.

“You should leave. You’ve been drinking.”

“What? You changed your mind already?” he accused, then scoffed with a not-so-unamused laugh. “I’m not surprised. People like you, who like danger and bad men, are always so fickle-hearted.” He approaches you too fast for you to back away, his scarred hands curling into your sweater—split skin from recent beatings bleed onto the fabric. “Flighty little slut, you’ve probably already found the next guy who gives you a rush. Isn’t that right?” He’s seething as he pulls you forward, looking like a hostile hound.

You lay your hands on his chest to keep him at a distance—feeling his entire body shake like static beneath your touch. You wonder if he’s taken drugs tonight, but looking into his eyes, you don’t think so. They aren’t fidgety but deadset. Actually, upon closer look, you don’t even think he’s drunk.

But anyway, it doesn’t really matter. You still don’t want him here. “I’m serious. Get out, or I’m calling the police.”

“Oh? Are we slinging threats now?” he jeers, showing no signs of letting go or leaving—he only pulls you in closer, so close you could kiss. “What? Don’t tell me you’re scared now.” He breathes out another short excuse for a laugh as you veer away, putting his lips to your ear instead. “You should have been from the start—but no—grinding up on me at the club as though you’d die without my attention. Crying pretty tears when you saw me all beaten and bruised—acting as though you want to save me. Tch—”

He throws you down on the carpeted floor. You wince from the impact, and when you look up again, you see he has a gun pointed at you.

You stop breathing. A dark sinkhole in your gut seems to want to swallow you from the inside, and you think you might just want it to if it means escaping the threat before you.

“I shouldn't have come here…” he mutters—finger resting on the trigger all too calmy. “But I just couldn’t get your face out of my head. Looking up at me with those doe-eyes, wearing my shirt even though it’s got blood on it after I fuck you silly, saying such sweet little nothings as if I’d paid you to.”

He sighs—heavily—as though he’s expelling spirits. His hand remains holding the gun poised and pointed straight down at you even as the other drags down his face, pulling his maw before sliding through his wet locks, raking them away from his face.

“I gotta kill you, you know?” he says, shoulders slumping with the statement. He sniffs—it's almost soft enough to be a sniffle. “That’s the only way to solve this. That’s the only way to get you out of my fucking head.”

He cocks the safety with a click that makes your life flash before your eyes. Faces of your family and friends, people you haven't seen in years, childhood pets long dead, a job interview, the holiday you felt true happiness, the night you went out dancing and met him.

The tears stream silently down your face, and you still don’t breathe. Every part of you, every nerve and muscle, has gone completely still. Unmoving, unblinking as you stare up through the barrel of the gun and wait for the bullet to come through.

His finger curls tighter around the trigger, and you close your eyes with a furl between your brows. And then…

Nothing. There’s a large exhale.

“I can’t do it…”

You open your eyes to see the gun lowered. The sight brings a fresh rush of air back to your lungs, making you all but wheeze as it fills you, breathing in far too much and much too quickly. You regain some semblance worth of motoric, too—able to scramble backward until there’s no more room to be gained, sitting with your back against the wall. Eyes peeled at him where he’s taken to crouch, holding his head with his free hand and the one still with the gun in it.

He fists his hair and tugs on it frustratedly, muttering to himself. “Dozens of lives on my hands, and I can't kill this one single-” he stopped short.

This time, when he looks at you, there’s something else in his eyes. No malice or scorn, but something sad—pity almost.

“Well… seems like you got what you wanted...”

The pity’s for you.

“This is what having my heart feels like.”

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Shoto, Dabi ♡ JJK – Sukuna, Geto, Toji ♡ AOT – Eren ♡ DS – Akaza, Sanemi

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

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risuola · 7 months ago

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ENTRY #11 ♡ F. READER X GOJO SATORU // I starve for your touch yet fear to savor it.

contents: arranged marriage!au, nudity, reader discretion is advised — wc. 1690

a/n: there was no way i wouldn't write a fic based on this picture. just no way.

series masterlist

Satoru loves to sleep naked.

The beauty of his innate technique, the blessing that he mastered to no end, has stripped him off one of the most basic human needs — touch. He wasn’t missing it that much, he thought, but there was something in letting go of everything and allowing himself to be wrapped in the silky layers of bedsheets that made his body crave the feeling.

He has always picked expensive garments, the ones with soft fabrics and luxurious feel, despite everyone telling him it’s unreasonable to spend so much on a shirt or a pair of trousers, but to him, it did matter. To him, that was the only thing touching his body when a thin layer of infinity effectively forced everything else back. To Satoru, touch was forbidden, threatening. It was a vulnerability that he, the strongest, couldn’t afford.

But that until he’s met you. Until he’s married you.

You were one of not many people he’s made an exception for. You were able to touch him whenever you wanted because the protective surface of endless matter let you in. Because he himself altered his technique to make you capable of laying your hands on his body.

He longed for your touch. So soft, and delicate, and warm. He craved more of it and yet, despite being shameless and confident, he has not allowed himself to sleep bare even once since the day you and him were bound by the knot of matrimony. It would cross boundaries he wasn’t sure you’d wish to cross; it would make you uncomfortable, awkward maybe — and he liked the way your relationship looked like now. He liked the late evenings you talked quietly, alone and intimate in the warm embrace of sheets and your own house.

For you, he let go of the way he used to sleep before because you were worth the sacrifice, but now, you were gone for few days. You were sent on a mission away from Tokyo and the hours Satoru spent alone in bed, thinking of nothing more but your fingertips on top of his skin, made him desperate — and so, he allowed himself the comfort of soft cotton and silk.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

You were tired. Exhausted even, by the intense fight you had to pull through, by the uncomfortable nights spent in the dingy hotel room, by the humid weather and rains. In moments like this, there was nothing you envied more in the world than your husband’s ability to warp from one place to another, but you got lucky. Incredibly so, because Ijichi offered you a ride home two days earlier than you were supposed to head back and you thanked all gods and devils for that man’s kindness. He was willing to put on some more road just to get you home.

“Thank you so, so much, Ijichi,” you kissed his cheek — a ghost of a peck that made him all red and steamy and you felt giddy for a moment, seeing the tips of his ears turn crimson. Adorable. You liked him, he was dutiful, polite, trustworthy and constantly terrorized by your husband, so you were determined to at least be the Gojo he likes.

“You’re very welcome,” he mumbled and fixed the frames on the bridge of his nose, pushing them up with the tip of his pointer finger. “Have a good rest.”

“You too, Ijichi.”

Then, he was gone and you were stepping into the house with a deep sense of relief washing over you. Home sweet home. If you were to guess, it was most likely somewhere around 4 am, way too early for anyone to be up — especially your husband — so you gave it your all to stay as quiet as possible. The sun was just showing its first rays from way below the horizon line, crawling up with golden hues and breaking the nightly, navy darkness.

On your toes you moved across the house. It seemed as if Gojo was spending his time alone quite ordinarily — you saw a modest stack of empty takeout boxes, much less humble pile of candy wrappers and his uniform jacket thrown over the couch backrest, along with few other little items that you struggled to differentiate in the nocturnal haze.

You put down your bag, hung up your coat and pushed off the shoes. Ghosting your way towards the bathroom, you were desperate to wash away the combat residuals. You lathered up the shower gel in a rush, desperate to rest and sleep in the comfort of your own bed and then, wrapped in the towel, you tippy-toed to the bedroom, but—

“Came back earlier?”

—you truly didn’t expect to be met with a sight like this. Your husband was awake, just barely, most likely awaken by the water running in the bathroom. His eyes were closed, hidden underneath his forearm and shielded from the lights that were slowly creeping inside, between the dark curtains and onto his face. His body seemed relaxed between the sheets. The softest, gentlest lines of golden glimmer that painted its patterns over his uncovered chest and leg, his hip and one of the muscular arms. The duvet was covering less than half of him, hiding a part of his stomach, the other leg and—

“You’re staring.”

Satoru didn’t even have to look at you to know that your gaze was lingering on his frame. On his very, very naked frame, just barely concealed by the comforter.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, feeling the heat creeping up your cheeks and reaching the tips of your ears and you thanked the darkness for hiding it away. You walked around the bed, hoping to find your pajama where you left it and trying to force your head out of the gutter. You heard your husband letting out a deep exhale and then, a soft hum. His voice was as melodic as always, though you could tell how much sleepiness was laced into it.

Satoru should’ve notice you when you entered the area of your house, but he didn’t. Tired by his own job, by the classes and all of the meetings, he allowed himself to lower his guard and when he realized you’re home, he contemplated for a moment getting up and dressed, but he just didn’t want to.

“You’re exhausted, screw pajamas, just come here,” he said before he managed to think twice about it. It was a daring offer, inappropriate even and he opened his mouth to apologize for it, but then, you rendered him speechless.

Your weight felt good on top of him. You lay your body over his own with feathery gentleness and carefully maneuvered your way to rest on his chest completely. The touch of your skin flush to his own made his brain to short circuit, it felt divine, too good to be true and just so very right, he couldn’t say a word.

“Is that alright?” You asked quietly, pressing your ear right above his heart and letting out a breath that you held for a little too long. Your face felt hot, you were flushed and flustered but also oddly at ease with the current position and you wondered for a moment if it was the tiredness that made you so bold.

“More than that,” he replied, pulling the covers to hide you beneath them. He allowed one of his arms to snake around your waist and his lips to kiss the top of your head. “Rest. Sleep well, wifey.”

“Good night.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

10:19 AM

Satoru thought he was dreaming, but the weight on top of him felt too real. The soft scent of citrusy shower gel that lingered on your skin filled in his lungs each time he took a breath in and there was a tickle, he realized — every time his chest raised, a strand of your hair seemed to be moving against his jawline. You were not a dream.

He opened his eyes, blinking few times, adjusting them to the bright light that forced its way into the bedroom and then, he looked at you. You were still very deep asleep, he could tell based off the long inhales you were taking, slow and relaxed, fanning against his peck rhythmically. Your body was mostly on top of him, you were on his chest, your leg was between his and only your hips were resting on the bed. He still had his arm around you, as if making sure you were as close as possible.

It felt incredible. Intimate. It was everything he could have wished for. A touch, skin to skin, so intense it almost took his breath away. He felt nauseous at the thought, realizing that it’s the first time in his life, he’s that close to someone. So impossibly close that just a little bit more and you’d become a part of him. His heartbeat quickened.

It was so right. So awfully correct and at the same time, so very threatening. He felt helpless. Vulnerable. He was at your mercy, he was robbed of everything what made him the strongest, because at this very moment, he was bare. Uncovered before you, wrapped in an embrace that felt loving, that felt soothing, addicting, but if you only wished to hurt him, you’d—

You moved, shifting your weight a little bit, adjusting the position and the way your hand run down his side made him shiver. A soft sound escaped your throat when you let out a deeper exhale. He felt your fingers squeezing the flesh above his hip and then, you relaxed again.

“Your heart is beating so fast,” you whispered, not bothering to open your eyes, and Satoru held his breath. “Relax…”

And he chuckled. His chest vibrated below your ear and the adorable sound of displeasure you let out made him lose all of the tension. He turned, twisting his body inside your embrace to face you fully and he squeezed you with both of his arms, pulling you close. So impossibly close, and you whimpered, suddenly enclosed in a tight hold of your husband’s limbs. That was it for your sleep.

You could get used to it.

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spatialwave · 1 month ago

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BRAT TAMER.

➸ ask: “our brat tamer vik and “oh no. i’m not finished with you yet.” 🤭🤭” – ➸ pairing: viktor x fem!reader ➸ word count: 911 ➸ tags: mdni! shameless smut, nsfw, pwp, semi-dubcon, rough sex, dominant viktor, brat/brat tamer, no use of y/n. ➸ notes: hehe 🤍🤍

Viktor adored the way your voice squeaked out his name when he pleased you, how your tongue snapped against the back of your teeth at the ‘t’. You were everything to him, there was no one else in the world he’d want to hear screaming his name. How it cracked in your throat when it mixed with a particularly loud gasp.

“Please,” you whined, your body hot as you lay on the couch in your apartment, legs spread wide so invitingly. His face was buried between, tongue sliding along your cunt and tasting you slowly.

This had been a common occurrence lately, neither of you were able to take your hands off of each other the second you were alone in the same room. Call it the honeymoon phase.

Your head lifted from the couch, hardly able to keep your eyes open as you watched your lover eat you out with experienced movements. His were closed, arms wrapped around your thighs as he listened to your sweet sounds that urged him to keep going.

He’d made you cum twice already, working you slowly to each release and watching you unravel with cries of pleasure and body writhing along the couch. Your fingernails had ripped into the fabric beneath you, adding to the tears that had accumulated over the past few months.

“Now,” he breathed against your cunt, the air from his lips warm as he moved to press chaste kisses to your inner thighs, “what did I say about being patient?”

A shaky breath escaped your lips, head falling back again in defeat.

When you first met Viktor, you hadn’t pegged him for the… well… dominant type. He was far too kind, always wearing that small smile on his lips as he ventured through the academy at Heimerdinger’s side. He shook your hand gently, your eyes taking his entire appearance in. Big, sparkling eyes, thinned cheeks, and two moles on his face that seemed to sweeten his features.

It wasn’t until the night you finally fucked after weeks of tension that built between you and him. You half-imagined to spend most of your night riding him, his hand sliding up your body as you took control and put on a show for him that he’d never seen.

Yet, you were greeted with deep rumbles in his throat as he fucked you from behind, standing at the edge of the bed with you on your hands and knees before him. A harsh hand in your hair, tugging it back when you misbehaved, nails digging into the flesh of your ass.

You were so fucking addicted to him, and the feeling was mutual.

“I am being patient,” you whined, back arching as two fingers slipped easily into your pussy, stretching your tight hole. A gasp settled into the back of your throat, hands settling on your tits so you could distract yourself from the way your cunt clenched around his fingers pathetically tight, needing release.

“Good girl,” Viktor purred, licking at a hickey he’d left on your inner thigh, lips trailing back to your heat so he could lick tantalizing slow circles around your swollen clit.

Your face twisted into one of pleasure as the coil in the pit of your stomach began to twist uncomfortably, signifying your third release of the evening. Here you were, a goddamn mess when Viktor had hardly touched himself yet, aside from a few needy strokes along his cock that he gave himself.

His name fell from your tongue again, eyes snapping shut tight as the fingers inside you pumped in and out, fingers curling just right. Those golden eyes watched you with desire, the way your fingers pinched at your nipples and back arched as you reached your climax.

It was intense, like always, leaving you babbling out his name as your body went limp. You were covered in sweat, hips stuttering as he coaxed out your orgasm with a few slow pumps of his fingers.

“Viktor,” you mewled after the feeling finally washed away, pouting as you pulled away from his hands until his fingers slipped out from your cunt, “please, let me make you feel good,” you slurred, properly fucked out. You attempted to sit up, but his free hand pressed against your stomach and forced you down while he clicked his tongue in disappointment.

“I let you cum because you were being such a patient girl,” he murmured from his position on the floor. Ignoring the pain in his legs to please you, “Stay down.”

Slowly, he climbed onto the couch above you, trapping you. You buried your face into his neck, whining as he settled between your legs.

“Viktor,” you breathed out his name again, the feeling of his fingers back within your folds causing you to cry out a loud whimper. You twitched, hips trying to run from the fingers that had made you see stars and had your body oversensitive, “too much.”

He smirked, ignoring your pleas as a hand wrapped around your throat.

“Oh, no, love,” Viktor whispered into your ear, teeth dragging against the shell of your ear as grabbed the base of his cock, the tip rubbing along your wet cunt, “I’m not done with you yet.”

Your pussy stretched as he fucked you, a rough rhythm that had you clawing your nails down his back and leaving behind red lines. There was no escaping him when he desired you, but you didn’t mind. Not one bit.

#viktor x reader #viktor arcane #viktor #viktor x you #arcane x reader #arcane x you #arcane smut #viktor smut #arcane fanfic #arcane fic #reader fic #wordsbyspatial #spatialanswers

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dinogoofymutated · 7 months ago

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For the Logan thirst: it’s laundry day. You’ve got nothing to wear but a pair of panties (or maybe that ugly thong you bought just bc it was on sale) and one of Logan’s flannels or shirts. You still end up with nothing to wear because you got side tracked. 👀 Logan totally didn’t go feral seeing you in one of his shirts. He was soo normal about it. 👀💚

NSFW! Wolverine/AFAB!FEM!reader.

This is the most depraved thing I've ever written I stg. I basically combined some tropes from a few different requests I received, so I hope this will satisfy everyone's thirst 😏

TWs: MDNI!!!! scent kink (my god). Nicknames "pretty girl" and "beautiful". Logan being feral. Manhandling. Eating-out. Little bit of edging. Fucking against the wall, PNV sex, biting, creampie.

You hated doing the laundry. You hated gathering it, folding it, putting it away- it just was so slow. It left you with too much time to think- and you avoided doing it because of that- but this was getting ridiculous. You couldn't find a single clean shirt- you were lucky that you had managed to find underwear, Honestly. All of your pants were dirty too, which left you standing around in the bedroom halfway naked, finally deciding that you had no choice but to do the laundry.

But you needed a shirt. It didn't matter if it was your own home- you just felt too vulnerable walking around the house basically naked like you were. You debate grabbing the bedcovers to sling over you, but that was going to be annoying to deal with while you're lifting and throwing shit in the laundry machines. A flash of red catches your eye on the top of your dresser. It's Logan's flannel. The one lounged around in yesterday while enjoying his day off.

Well, it wasn't dirty, because he hadn't gone out in it. At most it just smelled like him. So… why not?

His flannel is a bit oversized on you, reaching down towards your thighs. The sleeves were a bit awkward to work around, but you made it work. It was almost nice. Domestic even, to be wearing his clothes like this. You're in the laundry room when Logan gets home, still folding and sorting your laundry with both the washer and dryer running.

“Fuck.” Logan's low grunt from the doorway startles you at first, almost dropping the clothes in your hands. It wears off pretty quickly though, and you give him a sweet smile.

“Hey Logan! Didn't realize you made it home.” You say. Logan seems to be standing there stunned for a moment, swallowing. He catches you off-guard by rushing you, pulling you in by the hips and smashing his lips against your own. You can only let out a surprised noise, wide-eyed at him. It doesn't take long for you to kiss back, heart pounding from the welcomed surprise. Logan bites your lip, taking his opportunity to lick into your mouth when you gasp. His sharp canines were one of your favorite parts about him, and he sure as hell always made sure to take advantage of that.

Your fingers dig into the fabric of his shirt as his hands move down, squeezing and fondling your ass and thighs. You let out a yelp as the fondling turns to lifting, and he grabs you by the thighs to plop you onto the washing machine rather roughly.

“Laundry day?” Logan finally asks, looking at you with lidded eyes before his haze of lust returns. His gaze drifts towards the cleavage exposed from the neckline of his flannel, reaching much lower on you than it does for him. He's buried his face into your cleavage immediately, brushing the ends of his sharp canines on the skin as he nips and sucks a mark onto the top of one of your breasts.

“Uh- uh-huh.” You stutter out, desperately trying to keep your composure. You bite your lip as Logan works his way back up to your neck, continuing to lick and suck on your most sensitive spots. He nips you a little harder than normal, and you accidentally let out a rather erotic moan. Logan's breath hitches at the sound, before he’s growling into you.

He pulls away from you rather abruptly as he grabs onto your thighs again, causing your lower back to hit the top of the washing machine as Logan lifts your panty-clad core to his face, throwing your legs over his shoulders. He leans in, dragging his teeth bluntly across the fabric, putting pressure on your clothed clit. He kisses over it afterward, right before he presses his face flush against you and takes a deep breath in through his nose- taking in the scent of your arousal, drowning his senses in it as he makes you writhe.

“Logan!” You scold, completely embarrassed- and yet still aroused. Wetness pools as Logan lets out a deep chuckle in response, his eyes flickering up to meet yours right before he locks one long stripe up your underwear. You're struggling to keep it together, covering your face in your hands as you let out another moan.

“The things you do to me, pretty girl.” Logan rumbles, finally pulling off the now-soaked panties. “Fuckin’ love breathing in that scent.” You swear if you could pass away right now, you might.

“I-It's- the flannel, right? I -ah- didn’t realize that you'd get so feral over it.” You say, peeking through your fingers as Logan closes in on you again, licking another long stripe up your pussy. It's so much more sensitive now that fabric wasn't in the way, and you can't help but writhe a little more in the uncomfortable position as he stops at your clit, giving you a hard and short suck before he stops, chuckling again.

“Believe me, beautiful, you haven't seen feral yet.” Logan's words give you goosebumps, and he latches onto your clit again immediately. Fuck, did it feel so, so good. Logan's groans and hums against your clit sound so obscene mixed with the wet noises from your cunt. His rough tongue draws circles around your sensitive clit, every once in a while sliding a bit downward to slide past your lips and enter your plush walls. You have one hand covering your mouth as the other clenches the side of the running washing machine- scrambling for purchase.

Logan's rough hands trail up and down the inside of your thighs, letting you whine and whimper for him- begging him to give you just a little more. He teases you, brushing his knuckles just barely above your slit as he continues to eagerly suck and abuse the little nub in his mouth.

When he finally slides a single, thick finger inside of you, you can't help but let out a loud whine. He meets no resistance against your soaked walls, slowly stroking it in and out of you. Your walls flutter and cling to the digit, your hips bucking as he curls it inside of you. The action makes Logan laugh, his other arm wrapping around your thigh so he can press down on your hips, keeping them still.

He adds a second finger when he feels like it, now easing off your clit every once in a while as he feels you begin to get closer to your peak. He edges you like that only for a minute, letting his fingers scissor and stretch out your plush walls.

“P-please. Please please please.” You beg. The knot inside of you is waning, desperately trying to snap- and you're so, so close. Logan continues to suck on your clit, finally bringing you to the precipice of pleasure.

Stars dot your eyes as you cum, Logan's fingers and tongue not letting up as he works you through your pleasure. Logan eagerly licks up your cum as you do so, humming and groaning at the taste.

You're panting when your hips finally stop shaking. Logan is too. His face is covered in your slick, and he curses when he looks up at you. The sight of you disheveled and breathless in his shirt is really getting to him. Logan pulls you down off of the washing machine carefully, kissing your temples as he keeps you steady, just until your legs stop shaking.

“ You okay?” Logan asks.

“Better than okay.”

“Perfect.” The words are hardly out of his mouth before Logan has you pushed against the wall of the laundry room, tits pressed against the wall as his hand spreads your folds from the back, clearing the way for him as he pulls his cock out of his pants. Like before, it surprises you, but as soon as your brain has caught up with your body you find yourself pushing your ass against him. Logan chuckles at your desperate action, sliding his cock against your soaked folds before he slowly begins to enter you.

You let out a loud moan at the feeling of his thick cock stretching you out. Logan is trying to keep himself still to give you a moment to adjust, cursing again and again as he presses his face into your neck, laying kisses across the skin. He feels so right, pressed against and inside you like this. You're making it so much harder for him by desperately clenching down on him, your hips grinding back and forth as you coax him to move. Logan snarls at the action, one hand gripping your hip and the other wrapping around your waist as he thrusts sharply into you. The movement bumps you into the wall, and he begins to thrust eagerly into you.

“Fuck, hold on, pretty.” Logan's pace is forceful, but not rough, smoothly gliding in and out of your plush walls as he growls and snarls into your ear. His pace is steady and not overwhelming, hitting that sweet spot inside of you just right every time.

You're a moaning mess right now, mind fully taken over by the hot man snarling behind you, the fabric of the shirt bunching between his fingers as he holds you by the waist so tightly. Logan's flannel has been rumpled during the action, sliding down to expose your shoulder. His voice in your ear rumbles encouragements, praise, pet names. His hips slap against your ass with every thrust, sharp in comparison to the gentle kisses he places on your shoulder.

You can tell Logan is starting to get close when the pace of his hips begins to waver and change, speeding up as he works to reach his pleasure. His hand around your waist slides down to rub your clit, and he pushes himself flat against your back as he presses the two of you flush against the wall. Logan lets out a series of low grunts as he slams into you, his teeth biting into your shoulder sharply as he cums. You yelp at the sensation, hitting your pleasure just a moment after he does.

Logan grinds against you a few more times as he catches his breath, kissing the mark he's left on your shoulder when the metallic scent of blood hits his nose.

“Sorry, sweetheart.” He says remorsefully, hands soothing the bruises on your hips. “I didn't mean to get carried away like that” You turn your head as far as you can, cupping his cheeks in one hand as you pull him forward to kiss you.

“ s’ okay. It was hot.” You mumble. You turn around when he slips out of you, leaning forward into his chest. Logan smiles at you tiredly, his thumb tracing the mark on your shoulder.

“Although, if you want me to fully forgive you, you could always finish the laundry!”

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lolana101 · 29 days ago

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𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐁𝐔𝐁𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐒

⤷ VIKTOR: SLOPPY SECONDS

⤷ feat. viktor (arcane league of legends)

cw: 18+ , oral stimulation (m), edging, dirty talk, dom! f reader, saliva, nsfw, angst? enjoy!!

“i don’t do this.”

viktor’s accent was heavy against his tongue, his gaze weighted with an unsure haze. his now useless cane clutched in his hand as he stared down at you, between his legs. you knew you’d find him here, working late, jayce long gone. was hexcore even a shared project anymore?

his bad leg dangling over the work bench, his weight crushing the onslaught of papers and tools beneath him.

“i’ve never- done this.”

his breath hitched, as you softly caressed his thigh. a soft, hum arose from your throat in understanding, as you looked fixedly up at him.

“say something.. please.”

the cane clatters against the floor as he hesitantly reached and touched your cheek - a soft poke. did he think you weren’t real? he probably thought of that possibility once; he is always thinking.

“what do you want me to say?”

tour voice was soft, eyes never leaving his. his gaze flickered at the hexcore, the room enclosed in a soft blue hue.

you continued to softly rub his thigh, inching up and up.. you could feel the soft twitching of his thigh, the needy yet silent urges emanating from him. what did he look like voicing those sins?

then again, that’s why he liked you. you could practically read through him. you started to fiddle with his belt, sliding the leather off with practiced ease.

“you’re hard.”

you voiced, slowly rubbing the bulge through his pants. his breath paused, a soft buck up into your hands.

you leaned down, pressing soft kisses against his twitching, clothed need, humming softly. Your fingers slid up to his zipper, tugging it down and pulling away. With his jeans open, you could get a look. a soft dark patch forming as his pre-cum weeps through fabric.

his face was red now, those soft blemishes over his face highlighted with the blue. he looked gorgeous. his mouth was agape, silently begging. I guess he waited enough.

your hand softly jerked at the pretty, pink mushroom tip. his length astonishing, not too thick but freakishly long. your fingers slick with his arousal as he let out almost pathetic whimpers. his eyes fluttered close, his thick brown eyebrows curving at the softest stimulation of your hands. his semi - hard member rose up quickly, your finger slowly pumping, pulling up the shaft until your plant wrapped around his head, then moving down.

leaning closer your tongue swiped at the base, slowly trailing up until you could taste the salty need pouring out from him. he let out a shaky sigh, as your plush lips wrapped around his head, sucking and licking. your tongue swiping curiously at his hot need, your hand still gently stimulating him, though gradually gets pulled away as you take him deeper.

it felt so good, his legs twitching. deeper, is all he wanted. you soon obliged sinking down onto him, until your nose was pressed against the soft hair of his stomach, your throat contracting against him. he smelled good, the soft hairs under his stomach and lower smelled of soft musk. so manly.

“fuck..”

a breathless whisper, as your head bobbed on his throbbing cock, spit dribbling down his base only to get slurped back up. every movement had him twitching, he swore he would cum under the first minute. he couldn’t help it, his hand grasping at your curls, swiping them up into a bun to aid you into drilling his length into you. his dick twitched, heat pooling in his stomach threatening to spill.

“I-i’m..”

In an instant he twitched, though as the pleasure washed over him he let out an uncomfortable whimper, your tongue pressed roughly against the slit, humming. he huffed, staring down at you with pure need. his body was hot, needy. his hips twitching, your fingers moving to softly caress his bad leg easing the achy muscles.

“please..? why..”

you smiled up at him, his thighs twitching, as you kissed his base, sucking on his balls for a little before letting them go with a pop if your lips.

he was begging, you could see it. your wrist flicked at his head again, twisting, the lewd squelching echoing as he stared down at you. He was going to cum again, as he started to slowly fuck himself up into your palm.

he was getting more vocal, those sweet huffs turning into pliant begs, your wrist not moving anymore as you felt a familiar twitch in his base, before your thumb pressed against his tip.

“….f-fuck please-“

he whimpered, staring into your gaze, you were so evil. not letting him cum, not letting him desperately release that sweet orgasm he’s been holding - saving up for.

after a moment you remove your thumb, pressing a soft kiss against his tip before staring up at him, fingers skipping up his chest to grab his tie, hauling him down and pressing a sloppy kiss against his lips.

that taste, fresh black coffee. he chased your lips like a lost puppy, sloppy, licking up the dried drool off your lips, tasting the salty goodness he left on you.

“want me to make you cum yeah? fully?”

you asked, nipping at his neck before letting hip sit back up, your gaze down at your twitching cock.

“please? please please..”

he begged, your name rolling off his tongue, so close to sweet melody. you smiled up at him, before your gaze snapped back down, his hand wrapped around his base, as he pointed his needy dick to your lips.

that thick accent rolled your name off his lips for one last time, as you leaned down. your lips wrapped around him, head bobbing sloppily around his dick. you could hear him moan and groan, his hand sinking ti your scalp to guide your movements.

you were still in control, you both knew it. yet his needy whimpers allowed him to soften you just a little, to let him fuck your throat. his tip hitting the back of your throat, your hands splayed on his thighs. You could feel your own heat growing wet, pussy twitching just from him fucking his brains out into your mouth.

he let out a almost howl, your gaze snapping up at him, your eyes watered as you gaged slightly. you could feel warmth deep down your throat, his pretty pink cock twitching in your mouth. you came a a little too, your clothed clit twitching softly.

“…nng.”

he was still going through the after shocks, poor little viktor twitching, not even having the energy to form a sentence. he eased his cock out of you, It growing soft as he pulls you up, kissing you softly. he whined softly, feeling your hands softly jerk at his overstimulated sex.

“…good?”

“amazing.”

he pants out, nuzzling himself in your neck.

happy thanksgiving y’all !! hope he on my plate 😫please like and follow, and request!!

my most recent post here

#viktor arcane #viktor smut #arcane smut #arcane x reader #arcane x you #arcane x female reader #viktor x reader #viktor x y/n #arcane league of legends #hexstrap #arcane lol #arcane viktor #taking requests #reqs open #request

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carbonfiction · 1 month ago

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Irrevocably mine

Worst!Wolverine x reader

summary: Sometimes you get to be too much for Logan; not emotionally, god no. Never like that.. Just the mere presence of you stirs something within him. somedays, it just gets too much, that visceral need to be enveloped by you. it makes him nothing short of desperate, worn eyes begging and pleading, unsatisfied and unhappy until he has you closer than close.

warnings: 18+ SMUT MDNI- Needy worst!Logan, f! Receiving oral, oral on couch?fingering, mentions of bodily fluids (cum and spit) cum eating?(Technically?? S' just suckin on fingers), not sure if this classes as free use?? teeny tiny bit of face slapping, swearing.. he's a little pussy drunk here i cant lie.. But uhh think thats it??

Masterlist words: little over 1.8k

Sometimes you get to be too much for Logan; not emotionally, god no. Never like that.. Just the mere presence of you stirs something within him. The mingled scent of your perfume and shampoo on the bedsheets, on his clothing, a sweet fragrance that seems to follow him around the house even in your absence.

Somedays he can quell the feelings down in his gut until its nothing more than a dull ache, like a muscle overstrained. other times it'll grow, festering in his bloodstream until his body thrums with need.

And Somedays.. Well. Somedays get too much, that visceral need to be enveloped by you. It boils over until he's nothing but desperate, worn eyes begging and pleading as he follows you around, unsatisfied and unhappy until he's inside you- has you closer than close.

Today had been one of those boiling over days. He'd felt it stir from the moment he'd awoken with you snuggled into him, head pushed so far into the crook of his neck it was a wonder you could breathe as you planted gentle kisses across his skin.

Logan pushed the feeling down as you showered together, trying his best to ignore your soapy nakedness and wandering hands, a casual intimacy, as you gently washed him and his hair the same way he always did for you.

He continued his restraint as he'd spent the majority of his day with Wade and his incessant jabbering mouth. But Logan could still feel the ache inside grow, his clothes sitting uncomfortable on his skin, even with half a mind on helping his begrudged friend "fix up a shelf"

*in other words, it was one of Wade's horrible excuse to get logan in his house holding power tools. Making lewd; only-things-wade-would-come-up-with level comments until logan would threaten to shove his claws so far down Wade's throat that he'd be classified as a kebab*

But what really pushed Logan over the edge was when he'd gotten home to the sight of you laid out on the couch reading a book while only wearing one of his flannel shirts with some panties. A usual outfit for you around the house really, but it never stopped driving him wild. The way the of the fabric framed your skin in the soft setting sunlight stirred away at him until his clothes really became uncomfortably constricting.

He needed you, needed to be beside you, above and below you. To finally let your scent consume him whole. He wanted to beg, to plead for you to use him for your pleasure. It was like witchcraft the way you rendered him so pent up by merely existing in his life, like an angel of pure sin had fallen from the sky right into his arms.

His steps were swift as he came to a stop in front of the sofa, jacket thrown haphazardly somewhere in the hall. Your eyes break from the book in your hands as yours meet his, your legs now the only barrier to taking a seat. Within seconds, Logans hands gently lift the soft expanses of your lower legs, a smile appearing on both your faces as he sits.

At first he makes no moves, tells you to keep reading while his hands just simply trace and massage patterns into your limbs, enjoying a comfortable silence. You don't seem to notice how his eyes roam hungry against your dressed form or the chubby bulge that sits heavy in his jeans.

His rough hands slowly walk higher until they find their way under the fabric of your- his- shirt, your thighs soft; doughy and warm in his large palms. And yet his moves don't alarm you, don't break your trance to the page your so taken by in that damn book.

He thinks you don't feel the way his broad body shifts you with him, subtly lowering himself to the carpet until he's practically between your legs. He thinks you don't see the look in his eyes, shining with hunger and need.

Truthfully you see it all, practically felt the growing heat of the fire inside him from the moment he walked in, but you know what he needs from you so you continue to read, letting him believe you don't know.

You make no move when his head dips down, scuffed cheeks moving up from your ankles as he plants gentle kisses. Your stillness burns the flames inside higher, craving acknowledgement, wanting to devour you, but he knows no matter how engrossed in something you are you'd stop him if you didn't want it to happen.

Logan takes his time until he's just above your knees, then, he shifts again, now fully kneeling on the carpet. Your legs placed over broad shoulders. his hands roaming, pushing up the fabric until it rests just above your pubic bone.

His thumb finds your clit over delicate cotton and lace, a teasing pressure that makes you suppress a shudder. Its calculated, barely there and absolutely not enough but it still manages to spark pleasure.

And pleasure given by Logan was like ecstasy.

But, to your surprise, itstays like that for a while; him doing nothing more than planting little nips and kisses to your thighs and lavishing his tongue along the steadily drenching gusset of fabric. Spit aiding the wetness until they press translucent against your slit.

There's a heat in your own gut that builds from his movements, one that has you relenting the little strength you had to ignore him. the exchange so far wordless. But the moment the book hits the couch and your fingers finally entangle in his hair, finding his signature tufts and tugging gently, things shift. The brown strands are soft between your fingers as he lets out a quiet groan, finally speaking up in an intoxicating rumble "gonna let me taste you properly princess? Please.. I need it, been waiting all day to taste you"

For a moment you consider denying him, tease him a little longer, but the embers that burn in his gaze stop you in your tracks. A softly murmured 'yeah' fills the air and as quick as it leaves your lips his own dip, finding the dampening fabric of your underwear and inhaling.

One heavy adamantium arm lies dormant over you, palm splayed on your lower stomach, doing little more than pressing down your hips whenever you even attempt to wriggle for more. The other switches between pawing against your covered tits and holding one of your hands tight.

You squirm under him, sticky and wet as you allow him to choose his pace. Letting him take what he needs so desperately from you, allowing him his time to conduct his main goal; to taste your cum soaked cunt on his tongue like a spoonful of the finest honey.

"Got the sweetest little pussy.. could die happy down here" his eyes make contact with yours as he speaks making you whine. Something in the way they darken when talking about your cunt sending a shooting jolt of pleasure through your veins.

Logan slips his hand from yours until it sits right on the side of your inner thigh. Fingers coming up the middle of the soggy material before he hooks them, pulling them aside and baring you fully unrestricted to him.

"There she is.." he mumbles, lips immediately finding your puffy clit and sucking softly. His tongue flicking against the pulsing bud and paired with the constant suction of his mouth it draws the littlest mewls from your lips; quiet gasps of obscenity.

He spits then, lust blown eyes locked to your puffy cunt, his thumb a steady pressure on your bud as he rubs the saliva in tight circles. A groan as he observes how your empty hole clenches around air, slick arousal mixed with spit drooling down to your ass. "Lookacha fuckin' drooling all over me already.. What a needy princess"

You don't get the chance to respond- to tease him for his own need- what with how his mouth latches back over your pussy. A jumble of sounds filling the room, half sloppy and wet from the way logan laps at you, the other mewls, moans and whimpers as the feeling of your orgasm builds in your gut.

"F-feels so good.... Don't stop, please don't"

If anyone knows how to eat pussy, its Logan. His ability to eat pussy- to eat your pussy- is beyond any man you'd ever been with. You suppose its all in the years, experience built in his time, but its not like you have the capacity to really ponder its origins right now; not with the gusto he's sucking and savoring you with.

"L-Lo.. Fuck- s-so close" you breathe, whiney moans bubbling from your chest as your back arches on the cushion. They grow in volume with each flick and lap of his tongue. Broad strokes to precise flits, all uniquely drawing you closer, winding up the tension higher.

But what really shatters you is Logans fingers. Long and thick, enough to offer a pleasurable stretch, as his index slips just below his working mouth- sliding inside with zero resistance. He crooks it back and forth once, twice, three times before the middle slips inside as well.

You moan louder, hips thrusting down; fucking yourself on his digits as you chase the ecstasy tingling through your fingertips. The grip on his hair tight, making logan grunt and grumble as you guide his face along your dripping pussy.

"C'mon princess. Do it, cum f'me. Need it" he murmurs and the way it wetly vibrates across your clit shatters the tension in your gut, making you cum with a broken gasp. Logans mouth and fingers never stopping their delicious rhythm until tears well in your eyes, fingers desperately tugging at his hair. Your thighs beginning to close around his ears before he pulls away, a deep satisfied grin spread across his face. His beard visibly wet, cum and spit soaked.

"Fuck lo.." you giggle breathless, tugging him up from the floor practically by his hair. "Always make me feel s'good baby" the words are breathy, pressed against his lips in a wet kiss, the taste of you on his tongue.

"I like making you feel good.. Do so well for me everytime" he smirks and you feel it pressed to your lips; a blush spreading from the combination of your taste and his praise.

You kiss him lewdly, sloppy and passionate as you carefully grab his hand from your pussy and tug it up, large fingers still slick and coated in a thin creamy layer of your release. You pull back then, with a soft sinful giggle, making full eye contact with him as you open your mouth, placing those fingers on your tongue, lips closing around them like they would his cock.

The sight makes logan groan, his eyes darkened so much they are almost black. His chubbed cock leaking desperately in his now far to tight jeans. You smile, His free hand lifting to tap roughly on your cheek as they hollow around the digits teasingly. "My pretty girl and her flithy mouth.. Think we should get you something else to suck on hm?"

Save me needy logan.. Save me.. Writers block is easing up a lil so i figured I'd write something I'd enjoy as a reader?? Lemme know whatcha think! <333

#logan howlett #wolverine #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett smut #wolverine smut #deadpool and wolverine #logan howlett x reader smut #carbonsfics #worst wolverine #worst logan #logan x reader #logan wolverine

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katsukikitten · 2 months ago

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Retired pro hero Bakugou buying a really old abandoned home in Japan and restoring it while living in it.

It's all he's got, a lot of his friends have wives, families, kids, some of them even expecting a first grandkid and Bakugou in his 40s has nothing of his life to show for aside from the undisputed number one spot on the hero charts for 20 years straight and more scars than he can count.

He feels he relates to the house, old, once adored but now empty.

He wants to change that, wants to be more than an idea or idol, wants to disassociate from Dynamight and just be Bakugou Katsuki but he isn't sure he knows who that is. Dynamight is still parts of him yes but exaggerated, in all his years Katsuki knows he can soften he just doesn't know where.

Although he's ready to find out. Sadly or maybe fortunately, he's the type of man who has to find out through action and hard work. He bought the house site unseen, didn't even Google what the front of the home looked like he didn't care.

Standing in front of his mostly dilapidated home he feels good, crossing his arms over his chest as he lets his mind wander on where to start. Eyes sharp, cutting into the features of the home as he assesses just like he would any villain situation.

"Excuse me Dyna-" You clear your throat before he looks at you, as you remember his retiring announcement of him saying Dynamight can go fuck himself. I'm Bakugou Katsuki now.

"Excuse me Bakugou. I brought you a little welcome gift. I'm your neighbor." You don't flinch when his heavy gaze flicks to you, don't shy away from his snarl and if anything your smile grows as you offer up the bento and plate of cookies.

He doesn't take them and you don't take offense, just gently pull them back to yourself as you look at the home

"I'm so happy you bought the Sato house. They were good neighbors. They lived here when I was younger by both passed suddenly. Old age does that ya know? They didn't have any children but Mrs. Sato taught me her special rice for bentos."

You're rambling but you don't care, you'd just bought your childhood home from your parents a month prior. Fearful your home would suffer the same fate as the Satos. That the love and memories would be washed away by the rain and neglect. That the air around the home would worsen each year it went unaccompanied until it became so stagnant with neglect it became a miasma that not even the toughest soul could stomach.

Yet here stood Bakugou strong and tall outside a broken home.

"I don't think it's anything special by the way. Just a bit more soy sauce or sesame seed oil, I think she was what made it special."

Katsuki looks down at you for a long time, sees your fingers twitch against the fabric of the neatly wrapped bento, watches you swallow thickly and lashes flutter to combat the burn in your eyes as you stare at the home. You turn to face him, give a polite smile and nod of your head in a brief good bye before his voice stops you.

"I'll be the judge of that." You furrow your brows in confusion, looking up at him before his big warm palm comes under the bento to lift from your hands, "If the rice is special or not."

He watches your face light up, a true genuine smile that could compete with the sun and he feels something deep in his chest ache. Feels it yearn to reach out to you but he stands firm in his spot as he watches you disappear down the short overgrown walk way back to your home.

He doesn't even need to try the fucking rice to know the answer.

The rice was going to be special because you made it, Katsuki's sure of it.

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suncoved · 6 months ago

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HANDS OF AN ANGEL ! — RAFE CAMERON (18+ smut mdni)

in which, washing rafe's hair didn't go as you planned.

you looked up slowly from your book to the sound of your bedroom door opening roughly, rafe trudging in lethargically. your eyes followed him around the room as he threw off his clothes one by one, a trail of fabric following him until he was just left in his boxers.

you rolled your eyes at his unnecessary messiness and let your eyes travel back down to the off-white pages of your book.

you could only read about three words before rafe huffed rather dramatically across the room.

you ignored his annoying sighs and groans until it was physically impossible to not pay attention to him, slamming your book closed and looking at him from the bed.

"what is it rafey?" you asked sweetly, even though you knew what he was gonna ask. "shower" he said simply, nudging his head towards the bathroom from where he stood right outside it. "can't baby, i already put all my lotions and oils and stuff, you're gonna have to have one without me" you answered, watching his face turned into that of a five-year-olds if they were just told they couldn't go to disneyland that day.

"ok" he huffed, turning around and entering the bathroom, but leaving the door open so you could see everything. you giggled softly, turning your attention back to the book in your hands.

you only perked up when you heard the tap of the bath turn on, not the shower. rafe was having a bath?

if there was one thing you had to know about rafe cameron, is that he hated baths, more than an average human being did. he only tolerated them because he could feel you up more in the bath than in the shower because of the close proximity.

but he always took a shower after because he doesn't like 'bathing in his own filth for half and hour'

you itched to get up and hop in the bath with him, but that's what he wanted, because why else would he torture himself like that?

after about 5 minutes of reading the same line over and over again, you untangled yourself from your bedsheets and made your way over to your vanity. reaching your hand into the brown paper shopping bag, you pulled out bottles of shampoo, conditioner, hair masks and hair oils, making your way over to the bathroom with an arm full of hair products.

he heard you from a mile away, staring straight at you as you walked into his trap. "got you baby" he said, hinting at the fact that he was having a bath, for you.

"nope" you said, padding your way over to the bathtub. he looked at you quizzically at the new products you had with you.

you were glad that even though he was very very naked, there were mounds of bubbles covering him, his face and shoulders the only thing showing above the water. because after you spent nearly an hour after your shower rubbing oils and creams over your skin, you really didn't want to end up in the bath with rafe

"what've you got there bug?" he asked as you dragged your soft bathmat to the edge of the bathtub so you could have something to kneel on, placing the products softly on the floor.

"gonna wash your hair rafe" you state, reaching over and running your hand softly through his wet hair. "yeah?" he asked, tilting his head softly in admiration. "i went out and got some stuff for your hair type, not that you need any help with your hair at all! i just wanna do stuff for you like you do stuff for me." you quickly got quieter by the end of your sentence, avoiding eye contact with him.

"c'mere baby" he whispers, matching your soft tone. you hesitantly look at him, biting your lip nervously. your chin felt wet as he gripped it softly, bringing your lips to touch his as he kissed you. he pulled back first, resting his forehead on yours as he looked at you. "thank you, baby. i don't do the stuff i do for you to get repaid, but i love that you think of me"

you beam at his words, leaning down again and placing one last peck on his lips.

you pull up the sleeves of your long-sleeved white pyjama shirt before you lean over to squirt a generous amount of shampoo on your palm.

after rubbing your hands together to create a milky white texture in the shampoo, you leaned over the tub. the white acrylic made contact with where your bra wire would be had you been wearing one, oblivious that as you were reaching your arms to rafe's hair your tits were being pushed together, his eyes immediately staring holes into your cleavage.

"your hair is gonna be so soft rafey!" you exclaimed, using your acrylics to massage the shampoo into his scalp, making his eyes roll to the back of his head in pleasure.

you pulled back after sudsing up the liquid, biting your lip in concentration as you placed your hands on the side of his head and lowered his hair in the water.

he looked up to you, your hair hanging over him, your stare so concentrated, and your tits fully in his face.

rafe knows you didn't notice how much harder it was getting to hide his hard-on under the now less soapy water, the combination of you scratching his scalp and your cleavage fully on view making him spiral.

"ok, all done! once you get out, ill-dry it and put some oil on the ends." you voiced after raking the conditioner and leave in treatment through his hair, leaning down to kiss him after he made a come here motion with his fingers.

what you were unaware of though, is that as rafe was deepening the kiss between you two, he was pulling his hands out of the warm water and straight to your chest.

"rafe!" you gasped, pulling back instinctively as his hands made your once white shirt now see-through at your nipples.

"shh baby, c'mere. don't make me ask you again" he groaned, sitting up straighter so he could use his hands to pull your body towards his.

as he began another steamy kiss with you, he traced your nipples through your shirt, making you shiver. "rafe... i don't wanna get all wet" you whined, pulling back for a moment, giving him a chance to latch his mouth onto one of your tits.

"ill help you put more cream on later, now let me fuck that sweet pussy of yours" he rasped, pulling your shirt and shorts off as you came to a stand in front of him.

"can't believe my baby would think that i would let her win and sit out there reading her book. so naive" rafe cooed, his soft mannerisms of holding your hand until you made it safely in the tub being a complete juxtaposition of the nasty words he had uttered before.

you melted in the somehow still-warm water as he sucked at your neck, his hands roaming all around your body until he made it to your core.

"you're lucky we're in the tub bunny, because i'm gonna make you cum so hard you're gonna make a mess" he whispered into your ear, bringing a strong hand up to rest firmly around your neck, and the other now making circles on your clit.

you looked up at him in a daze, you're eyes already glossed over as you laid your head against his chest. due to the confined space, you could already feel his hard length resting below your ass, making you squirm.

he entered one finger into you without warning, making you gasp. "shhh, quit whining. you're alright." rafe commanded, beginning to pump his finger in and out of you. he placed soft kisses on your head, his hand on your throat providing a comforting presence to you somehow.

rafe always made sure that during these times you felt loved and appreciated by him, knowing that your mind had the tendency to roam with thoughts 24/7.

"ready for another baby?" rafe asked, your walls somehow still tight around his finger. your hum in reply earned rafe to tighten his hold around your neck, urging you to use your words.

"yes rafey, please" you replied, snuggling more in his chest and looking up and him with glossy eyes. "ok, are you sure you can take it?" he teased, earning a whine to come from your chapped lips.

he slipped another finger into you, pumping them in and out as you squirmed. "good girl, such a good girl for me" he praised, beginning to pick up speed as you gleamed at his praise.

"g-gonna come rafey" you whined, gasping as he quickly pulled his fingers out of you. you immediately turned your head to look up at him in shock, annoyed that he wouldn't let you come to his reach.

"don't look at me like that brat, you can cum on my cock" he remarked, placing another kiss on your head as you whined once more.

he pulled his hand cock to line up with your entrance, stroking your cheek as he slid into you softly. "shh, your alright sweet girl. i got you" rafe reassured in response to your gasp.

he groaned as he bottomed out inside of you, stalling for a moment to look at your expression before beginning to pump in and out. "shit, most perfect pussy i ever had. taking my whole cock like the perfect girl you are, love you so much" he rambled, his mind in a haze as you squeezed around him.

he began picking up his pace, slamming into you from below as the water rippled from his movements. you were to cock drunk to worry that the water could splash out of the tub, gasping as he brought a finger down to circle your clit.

"rafe" you whined as you tightened around him, signalling to him that the knot in your tummy was about to burst. "i got you baby, milk my cock"

you squeezed your eyes shut as you came around him, hearing his groan echo in your ears as he shot his load inside of you. you rolled your eyes to the back of your head as he worked you through your orgasm, slowing the circling of his fingers as he stroked your hair as whispered in your ear

"so perfect for me baby, so so perfect"

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron smut #rafe smut #outer banks

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funnyexel · 1 year ago

Text

he's obsessed.

Secondborn!Husband who coincidentally gets married to you just as your country’s death toll reached an all time high from war. So what his nation started it? That doesn’t matter now, you have to worry about your upcoming marriage.

Secondborn!Husband that found the engagement revolting until he saw your face and instantaneously changed his mind. Secondborn!Husband that purposely gives you a impression of disinterest, when in reality he’s infatuated by everything about you. From the way your eyes perk up when you see him for the first time to the way you softly sigh when you think you’re finally alone.

Secondborn!Husband that has a horrible reputation in his own country and jumps to keep his image intact, with you. Secondborn!Husband who doesn’t sugarcoat the way he feels about you in his head. Letting his wildest fantasies conjure up in his head once he’s alone and locked in his room.

Secondborn!Husband that physically shakes every time he realizes your wedding night is closing in. Realizing that, he’ll be able to touch your body and kiss you freely and he cannot wait. Secondborn!Husband that insisted you sleep in the same room with him, since your wedding date is creeping and you would need to get used to sleeping with someone else. And not because he wants to watch your peaceful expression as you sleep soundly next to him.

Secondborn!Husband whose real feelings are starting to get exposed, when you find your panties in his dresser.

Pervert!Husband that steals your underwear when you carelessly leave them hidden underneath your pile of clothes as you go shower. Pervert!Husband who strangles his cock with your panties when you’re gone and moans pornographically when he comes in the fabric to the thought of you beneath him.

Secondborn!Husband who washes and hangs the underwear to avoid suspicion.

Secondborn!Husband who feels a giddy feeling for the first time in years when you both say ‘I do’ at the altar. He bathes in the fact that you cannot and will not ever be with another man other than him for the rest of your days.

Secondborn!Husband who finally has something that no one can take away from him, a oblivious little wife.

part 2

a/n: first post of 2024! thanks for following me into a new year and into a new era of posts.

#fanfiction #smut #yandere #yandere scenerio #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere oc #soft yandere #tw yandere #male yandere #yandere insert #yandere blurb #male yandere x reader #yandere male #yandere oc x reader #yandere male x reader #black fem reader #fem reader

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