#i keep feeling like i have to be on here All The Time to maintain social progress ive made instead of trying to find a balance of being

[hotchscoffeecup]

those things will kill you

pairing: javier peña x dea!reader

tags: gun violence, broken glass injury, bullet wounds, blood, no y/n

word count: 5k

summary: attacked in a public bar, javier takes you back to his apartment to get you cleaned up and tend your wounds. an almost kiss leads to an exploration of feelings neither of you were prepared for.

as always, big thanks to muffin for always being willing to help beta my fics <3

The bartender places a bottle of beer, sweaty with condensation, in front of you on the bar top.

After uttering a short thank you in Spanish, you leave a couple of bills on the counter and twist your fingers around the neck of the bottle. The beer is cold and slides down your throat easily, but it tastes bitter in your hollow stomach.

You run your tongue over your teeth and tsk, shaking your head wondering how you ended up in this mess. Everything seems like it’s going to hell in a handbasket and all the government wants to do is tie your hands and everyone else’s in the search for Escobar.

You hate how it all keeps you up at night; the cat and mouse. For every inch you eked closer, Escobar always seemed to be a mile ahead. Even when he is right under your nose, he evades capture and disappears without so much as a trace of evidence.

You think too far too deeply about Pablo Escobar and you know it affects your work. How can the same man who built homes and schools for the poor of his hometown be the same man that would blow up a city street full of school children and their families a week before school starts? The thought of it keeps you awake at night because you genuinely cannot fathom how such a disconnect can exist in the human mind. He is a drug lord. A killer. A criminal. But he was also someone’s child, someone’s husband, someone’s father. Could he really justify all of this cruelty and malice? You wonder when enough stopped being enough for him. You wonder if a reality existed where he was just that, a man of the people. A family man. In another life, maybe he could’ve actually maintained a seat in the Colombian congress. In all his posturing and speech making, he really did exude all of the makings of a good politician that wanted to see a better and more prosperous Colombia. Instead, he became that which instilled fear in the hearts of those that called the great nation their home.

The clipped click of a lighter snaps you out of your own mind and the sounds of the bar pull you out from under the sea of thoughts you’d lost yourself in.

“Real sharp instincts there,” Javier jabs as he drags on the cigarette between his lips and settles into the seat beside you. “Glad I’m not a sicario. Getting the jump on you would be all too easy now, wouldn’t it?”

“Fuck off, Peña, I’m not in the mood.”

“What happened? Get in trouble with the ambassador or something?”

You direct a hard stare in his direction and that seems to speak for itself.

“It’s an adjustment for everyone. He’s definitely more of a tight ass, but he’ll get used to the way things operate down here. Give it time.”

You scoff. “Easy for you to say. All you and Murphy have to do is posture and dick swing your way into his good graces. It’s not that easy for me.”

The bartender nears your end of the bar and inclines his head towards Javier. He gestures towards the drink in your hand with his cigarette and says, “Lo mismo, por favor.”

With a drink now in hand, he turns towards you and levels his deep brown eyes on yours.

“Cut the crap.”

Your brow arches toward your hairline. “Excuse me?”

The corners of his eyes crinkle as one side of his lips quirks up. “I’m not buying this ‘I’m-a-lady-so-I-have-to-work-twice-as-hard’ bullshit. You’re a damn good agent and that’s why you’re here with me and Murphy. Ambassador knows that. So, why don’t you tell me what’s really bothering you?”

He takes a swig of his beer and swallows hard. Pointing the bottle at you he says, “and to be clear, I’m not swinging my dick around for anyone.” His eyes flicker over your face and a glint of mischief enters his gaze. “Unless they ask nicely of course.”

You drop your chin and shake your head. “Just when I thought you were being genuine.”

“Hey, I am genuine,” he protests. He pops the cigarette between his lips and grabs your shoulder, the warmth of his palm pressing through your jacket. “C’mon, what’s really eating you?”

You grab the bottle in front of you and swirl the pale liquid inside, forming a small tornado when you still your hand. “I just haven’t been sleeping, that’s all.”

Javier drops his hand from your shoulder to take the cigarette from his lips and blows out a puff of smoke, angling his mouth away from you but the acrid smell still manages to burn your nostrils.

“Those things will kill you, you know?”

Javier smirks and you hate how good it looks on his smug face. “We work in Bogotá. A lot of things can kill us.”

“No need to tempt fate.”

He moves from side to side as if weighing his options. “Cigarettes, alcohol, working too hard trying to prove ourselves that we don’t sleep at night…we all have our vices.” His eyes linger on yours and you suddenly feel vulnerable being called out like that.

“Consider the reasons I don’t sleep, Javi.” You drain the last of your beer and push the bottle away from you.

You press your hands against the edge of the bar, but before you can push yourself up and off of the barstool, Javier claps a hand over one of your wrists, stilling you.

“You can talk to me, you know?” The browns of his irises flicker as they bear into yours and the hollow pit in your stomach widens. You know you can talk to him. Steve too. It’s just hard to be too vulnerable down here though when there’s so much pressure coming down from all angles. If you even look like you might collapse under the weight of it all you’ll get rotated back to the States so quickly, you won’t even get the chance to say goodbye. This is the opportunity of a lifetime for you and you can’t squander it. So, it stays easy to lock it down, despite the consequences.

So, you do just that and lock it down. Forcing a smile you know doesn’t reach your eyes, you shake off his hand and zip up your jacket. “I’m fine, Peña. I’ll see you in the morning.”

He presses his lips together, but doesn’t say anything more. He nods his head in farewell and you turn to leave.

You take two steps before your name rolls off of his tongue and you roll your eyes. “Peña, I’m—” The words die on your lips as you turn, eyes drifting past Javier to the pair on the motorcycle beyond the glass window that makes up the external wall of the bar. The man on the back of the motorcycle aims an automated weapon in Javier’s direction.

“Everybody get down!” You cry out as all hell breaks loose.

You’re airborne as the glass shatters and the explosive sounds of gunfire fill the space. You collide with a thick wall of muscle and hit the ground hard, covering your head with one arm and shielding his body with the other. The gunfire stops almost as soon as it had started and the sound of tires squealing on the pavement echoes off the street.

Patrons scream and cry out as they scramble over one another to evacuate the space. You roll onto your side and groan as shards of glass cut into your arms through the thin windbreaker you have on.

“Javier,” you groan as you reach for him. He’s moving so you know he’s alive. You lean over him and his shocked visage. “Javi, are you with me?”

He blinks hard out of whatever stupor he’s in and sits bolt upright. “Which direction did they go?” He turns his head to look over his shoulder and the gaping frame where shards of glass poke out of the windowsill like jagged teeth.

“They’re gone,” you say on an exhale. “Are you alright? Did you hit your head or anything when I tackled you?”

He breathes out a short laugh and you fear he might be in shock. “Did I hit my head? No, I didn’t—” He stops and shakes his head like he’s trying to clear away a fog. His brow pinches as he looks around at the damage. Tables and chairs are upended and cast aside. Broken bottles line the floor where they shattered upon impact off the shelves behind the bar and litter the ground. You’re surprised to find that, miraculously, no bodies littered the ground in the wake of the attack.

A hand cups your chin and you reflexively reach for the gun tucked into your waistband.

Peña raises his other hand in surrender. “I think you might’ve hit yours though.” His eyes shift just above your field of vision and that’s when you feel the hot sticky substance drip down onto your lashes. You raise a hand and touch it, surprised to find a smear of red staining your fingertips when you look at them.

“I think that’s just from the glass. It’s all in my jacket.”

Javier clambers to his feet and dusts off his jeans. Bits of glass hit the floor as it rattles off of his leather jacket, a much heartier material that you wish yours had been made from.

He extends a hand towards you and you take it, wincing as he pulls you to your feet. With a grunt, you tug the zipper down and shrug out of your jacket. There’s no saving the ripped and bloodied material so you drop it on the floor.

“Fuck, you’re hit.”

The words don’t register as Javi closes the gap between the two of you and the smell of cigarettes and cologne envelops you in a strange, yet almost comforting cloud of, well, Javier.

He scrubs a hand over his face as he hesitates to touch you. You hear him muttering to himself, but the words don’t quite register. Funny how a moment ago you were worried about him going into shock.

A sharp sting of pain brings you back to your senses as Javier presses a folded up bar towel to your shoulder. “Hold pressure on that,” he instructs. He turns and reaches back to take your hand in his. “Come on, I’ll get you out of here. I need to get you taken care of.”

And that’s how you find yourself in the passenger seat of Javier Peña’s Jeep with blood seeping through a dirty bar rag onto the upholstery of his passenger seat. At some point he reaches over you and retrieves the satellite phone from within the glove box to call in the attack.

“No, Murphy. I’m fine. She’s fine. Minor wounds it seems. No—no, don’t wake Connie. I’ve got a kit at my apartment. Yes, I’ll keep an eye on her. I’ve already called the Ambassador and Martinez. Yeah, yeah. Ok, goodnight. I’ll call you if anything happens.”

By the time he pulls into his garage, the adrenaline wears off and the sharp sting of pain in your shoulder becomes glaringly obvious. Javier gets out and moves to open the door for you. He places a supporting hand under your uninjured arm as you maneuver your way out of the car in the confined space. Your body brushes against the firm plane of his as you do and you don’t miss the way he stiffens in response.

“Let’s get you inside,” he murmurs and drops his hand to the small of your back to guide you towards the door.

His apartment is simple, built in the same style as yours and Murphy’s. They all share the same furniture and simple decorations, though yours doesn’t have quite the number of liquor bottles perched on various surfaces and vaguely remember what he’d mentioned about vices at the bar. The smells strongly of him, of his earthy cologne and cigarette smoke. You’ve grown used to it from sitting across from him at work for the last six months. There’s something oddly comforting about it even though the amount he and everyone else smokes bothers you to no end.

“Why don’t you sit down?” He says, gesturing toward the couch.

You do as he suggests and sit on the couch, only on the edge though. You don’t want to ruin the upholstery like you’d done with his car. Plus, you’re fairly certain there’s still small shards of glass embedded in the skin of your back and the idea of pressing those in any further makes you queasy.

Javi disappears into the bathroom, muttering expletives under his breath in English and in Spanish. He returns with a small red first aid kit, a couple of wash clothes, and a bottle of rubbing alcohol.

He climbs onto the couch and perches on the back of the sofa, his legs spread on either side of your body. “Hold these,” he says, and doesn’t wait to dump the items into your lap.

With gentle hands, he peels the bar rag up and off your shoulder. “Good,” he sighs. “Bleeding’s stopped. Let’s get you out of this shirt.”

You turn your head over your shoulder to look at him from beneath an arched brow and he immediately doubles back. “So we can clean this properly and make sure there isn’t any more glass. Get your mind out of the gutter.”

“Funny, I thought you liked it there.” Your lips curve into a wicked smile. “I know what you meant, but it is fun to watch you squirm.”

Javier shakes his head and you turn back around to pull your tank top up and over your head. You try to do it with one arm to avoid aggravating your shoulder, but the movement jostles the joint and you hiss between your teeth. Javi catches your hand as you try to pull it over the injury and takes over guiding it up and over the wound. He discards your tank top on the ground and sucks in a breath.

“What, Jav? You see women in their bras, or without them, all the time. Relax.”

“No, it’s not that. Wait, what—”

You smirk to yourself. “What’s the problem?”

“It’s just on second thought, I think we ought to move to the kitchen. There’s more light there and there’s still some glass stuck in and around where the bullet clipped you.”

He gently lays the towel back down over the open wound on your shoulder and you follow him to the kitchen and drop your keys and gun onto the counter before perching on one of the bar stools. He kicks the nearby waste paper basket next to the empty stool beside you and arranges the first aid items onto the counter, opening the kit and withdrawing gloves, tweezers, gauze pads, and roller bandages. He zips the kit shut, determining he has everything that he needs and places it in his lap as he sits down.

A strange silence settles over the two of you as he snaps on the pair of latex gloves and sets to work. He removes the soiled rag from your shoulder and drops it into the trash. The pinch and sting of him pulling glass from within and around your injuries dulls over time and you watch as the tiny pile of red stained shards grows on the counter next to you.

“You know there wouldn’t be so much of this if you hadn’t fallen directly on top of me.”

Javier scoffs. “You’re right. Next time we’re in a firefight, I’ll let you fall on me.” The tweezers lock on to another small shard and you grimace as he pulls it free. “I think that was the last one.”

He unscrews the plastic cap from the bottle of rubbing alcohol and soaks a washcloth with it. “This is probably going to hurt worse, but we gotta get this cleaned up.”

You nod. “I know, go ahead.”

When he’s cleaning the dried blood from off and around the skin, it just grazes over small cuts and scrapes that feels more annoying than anything else. It’s when he passes over the open wound in your shoulder that a curse slips past your lips and tears well in your eyes.

“Fucking shit, that hurts.”

“I know,” Javi says apologetically. “We definitely don’t want you to get any infection though.” He swipes the cloth over the injury three more times and just when you start to wonder if he’s a sadist, he finally declares he’s finished and drops the washcloth into the trash. The cool air blowing from the nearby AC unit dries the alcohol and relieves the burning sting. He replaces it with a fresh gauze pad and holds it in place with his left hand while his right works the roller bandage into position. He works quickly and quietly as he winds it around your shoulder and bicep. After securing a knot in the bandage, he sits back and nods affirmatively, content with the job he’s done.

“Now let me see your forehead. We oughta get that cleaned up as well while I’ve got you here.”

You’d almost forgotten about the cut above your eye with the adrenaline wearing off and the pain in your shoulder growing more severe. You reach up absentmindedly and brush your fingers against the now dried and flaking blood stuck in your eyebrow. Javi spills some alcohol onto a gauze pad and your breath catches when he touches the tips of his opposite hand beneath your chin to tilt it towards the overhead light.

He swipes at the dried blood and scrubs it free from your eyebrow. When he passes over the shallow cut, you wince and he apologizes. When it’s clean, he peels open the wrapper on a butterfly bandage and uses the tips of his fingers to try to place it so it’ll pull the cut closed. A small smile tugs at your lips as you watch him press his tongue to his bottom lip as his fingers tremble ever so slightly as he makes sure the small ends of the bandage don’t tear.

“There,” he whispers when he’s sure it’ll stay put. His face is so close to yours and the breath catches in your throat when his eyes drop to yours. “Just like new.”

Time slows to an absolute standstill and you feel yourself inextricably drawn to him, as if there’s some tether pulling you towards him and you really start to wonder if you did hit your head harder than you thought in the chaos because you’re pretty sure he’s also leaning in towards you, which would be crazy because he’s your coworker, but he’s also tilting his head and his face is incredibly close to yours…

Reality snaps back into place like a rubber band against skin when the first aid kit resting on his thighs clatters to the ground. You immediately pull away and drop down off of the stool to pick it up and Javier immediately chastises you doing so.

“Dammit!” He curses and your name sounds sharp on his tongue. “You’ve barely stopped bleeding, don’t jerk yourself around like that.” He snatches the first aid kit from you and splays a hand under your elbow to pull you back up to a standing position. He tosses the kit onto the counter and stalks off into the living room leaving you at the bar wondering what the hell is driving this one-eighty in behavior as he paces back and forth across the carpet.

“Damn, Peña. I’m not going to bleed out on your kitchen floor.” You smirk. “Your jeep, maybe,” you suggest, trying to make light of the sudden tension in the room.

Javier either doesn’t or chooses not to hear you. He loops his thumb through one of his belt loops as he shakes his head and mutters under his breath. “I don’t need this right now.”

Your brow pinches and you hate the heat that rushes to your cheeks. You shuffle your weight from foot to foot and suddenly feel like you’re taking up too much space in the small apartment as he increases the space between you and him. This errant behavior is giving you more whiplash than when you’d taken him to the ground and you’re about to call him out on it, when, without another word, he turns and ducks into his room.

Irritation quickly replaces whatever vulnerability you’d just been feeling. “What the hell does that mean?” You ask, your words clipped and demanding. You walk towards the sounds of him rummaging around inside drawers and come to an abrupt halt as he strides out of his bedroom and presses a ball of fabric into your chest. “This,” he says by way of explanation and takes a dramatic step away from you.

“And by this you mean what exactly?” You know exactly what the this in question is, but you want to hear him say it. Frankly, you’re just as surprised by whatever just happened between you and him, but you’ve worked with each other long enough now to know when the other is severely bullshitting their way through a situation and you have no intention of letting him get away with it.

The smell of his detergent wafts up around you from the shirt in your hands and you take the opportunity to try to awkwardly shrug into it without aggravating the freshly dressed wound. It’s hard to start an argument and be taken seriously when you’re standing toe to toe with someone and you’ve only got on jeans and a black lace bra after all.

As you fumble with the buttons on his shirt, he takes a resigned step backwards and collapses onto the couch. He gestures vaguely at the space between the two of you. His voice is softer when he speaks, tired. “All of this. God.” He runs a hand through his hair and falls back into the cushions. “You,” he says, eyes briefly meeting yours and then at the ceiling.

Your fingers pause mid-fastening. “What about me?”

Javier shakes his head. A wry smile pulls at his lips, rife with disbelief, and it fades as quickly as it comes. “You nearly died tonight.”

You arch a brow and direct a knowing look at him. “Javi, not sure if you were paying attention but we both nearly died tonight. I mean, things moved a little quickly for me to break out my calculator and add shit up, but I don’t think all 30 or 40 of those rounds were meant just for me. I think they were aimed at both DEA agents and they didn’t give a fuck who else got caught in the crossfire.”

“That’s not the point,” he responds resolutely.

“Then tell me what is.”

He doesn’t answer, but sits up and pulls the half crushed pack of cigarettes from his back pocket and slips one between his teeth. As he rolls his thumb over his lighter, you feel your already short fuse ignite. Without giving it a second thought you step forward and snatch the cigarette from between his lips.

“Hey!” He protests, nostrils flaring.

You snap the stick of tobacco in front of him and toss it to the floor. “Enough of the theaterics, Peña.” You stare directly into his eyes, refusing to let him get away with ignoring you. “Quit bullshitting me and tell me what’s really on your mind.”

The sound of the wall clock ticking fills the space and the silence is unbearable, but you refuse to be the first to break. Fifteen more uncomfortably strained seconds tick by before he drops his gaze to the floor and scrubs a hand over his face with a heavy sigh.

He slides over on the couch and pats the cushion next to him. “Sit down, will you?”

You do as he asks and situate yourself at an angle towards him with one leg pulled up across your lap.

“Here,” Javi says as he pulls a throw pillow out from behind him and wedges it gently between you and the couch. “I don’t want you to go and tear open anything I got closed.”

You huff out a quiet laugh and thank him, glancing down at his haphazardly buttoned shirt you’ve got on. You notice you’ve completely misaligned what you’d managed to fasten. Ignoring that for now, you kick at his shin and incline your head towards him. “You done with all the tough guy shit?”

Javier presses his lips together and nods. “Yeah, I’m sorry about that. I don’t know what happened. I just—”

“Just what?”

He lifts his eyes to yours and you watch the way his coffee colored irises flicker in the lamplight. “There's just some lines you shouldn’t cross.”

“This is Bogotá,” you say, mirroring his words from earlier. “There’s a lot of lines we shouldn’t cross.”

“I’m serious,” he responds brusquely, eyes darkening as he shuts you out once more.

You sit up straighter, undeterred by his obvious attempts to push you away. “Yeah, well tough shit, so am I.”

The way he speaks your name is laced with frustration and uncertainty. He’s holding back and your own frustration mounts. You’re tired, you’re in pain, and frankly, now you’re just feeling plain stupid. You’d heard rumors of Javier’s extracurricular activities with women. Did you really want to be another notch in his bedpost?

You let out a low, wry chuckle and shake your head. “You know what, Javier?” You push yourself up and off the couch, wincing as you do so, and look down at him. “Give me a call if you figure out what side of the line you stand on.”

You turn and swiftly move towards the door, swiping your keys and gun off of the counter as you do so. You use your good arm to shove your sidearm into the back of your jeans and unlock the deadbolt on Javier’s front door.

You’ve barely pushed the door open when Javier appears at your side and yanks it closed. Before you can protest, he pushes you up against the door and presses his lips to yours in a devastatingly desperate kiss.

You can’t control the moan that rushes from your mouth into his as you kiss him back. He tastes like mint and menthols and you suddenly can’t remember why you hate the smell of cigarettes so much. The cuts along your back and shoulder blades sting as the wood rubs up against the shirt Javier gave you, but with his hands pressed against the expanse of wall on either side of your face, you decide it’s bearable.

That is until you reach up unthinkingly to tangle your hand into his hair and a sharp sting of pain reverberates from your shoulder all the way down to your fingertips.

Javi abruptly breaks off the kiss and his eyes flicker across your face, shining with concern. “Fuck, I’m sorry! I just got caught up in the moment. Did I hurt you?”

You place a placating hand against his chest and feel the erratic beating under your palm. “I’m fine, Jav. Really.”

He licks his lips and you already miss the way they felt against yours. He presses them together and nods. “Good.”

“Good,” you echo. “I guess I should head home though, get some rest. God knows the ambassador is going to want a report on all of this.”

“You got shot, the ambassador can get fucked.”

“Fucked, is what we’re both going to be if we can’t figure out who targeted us.” You sigh and shake off the thought. “I better get going. It’s late.”

Javier stops you from turning to leave. “You’re not walking home alone this late at night.”

“It’s down the street, I’ll be fine.”

“You’re not walking alone.”

“Then walk me home. Your strong male aura will keep danger at a bay,” you add sarcastically.

“No.”

“No?”

“No.”

“Then what do you suppose I do?”

“Simple, stay here. I’ll drive you home in the morning.”

“And sit on all that blood? No thanks.”

“Okay fine, I’ll walk you home in the morning.”

You consider the implications of that and choose the safest route. “S’pose I could sleep on the couch.”

Javier shakes his head. “I’m not gonna make you sleep on the fucking couch. You’ll sleep in my bed.”

“And you’ll sleep where?”

“Next to you,” he says smoothly. “If you’ll let me.”

You arch a brow. “And we’ll just…sleep?”

Javi shoves his hands into the front pockets of his jeans and shrugs his shoulders, his smile smug. “Tonight, yes.” He steps forward and takes a hand from his pocket to cup your face gently in his wide palm. He places a tender kiss upon your lips. “Tomorrow night might be a different story.”

“I think I’d be quite interested in reading that,” you respond playfully.

“It’s different than what I’m used to,” Javier says and then adds, “but I think change might not be a bad thing.”

You give him a once over and nod. “I think you’re right about that.”

He smiles, somewhat sheepishly, as he says, “I’m sorry for being such a dick.”

The corner of your mouth quirks as you shrug your good shoulder. “I’m not sorry I pushed your buttons like that. It’s about time you open up and actually let yourself feel your feelings.”

He rubs his thumb across your bottom lip and then drops his hand to curve around your hip and rest on the small of your back. “Let’s get some sleep, huh?”

And that’s how you find yourself lying in bed next to Javier Peña of all people, wearing his shirt to sleep while he snores softly beside you; and you can’t help but wonder how many things had to happen for you to end up here at this moment. His arm drapes over your waist, pulling you in against the steady warmth of his skin and you find that you quite like the way you fit so perfectly against the crook of his body.

In the comfort of his arms, you drift off into an uninterrupted sleep and for the first time since you can’t remember when you don’t dream of Pablo Escobar.

[flowerbloomsworld]

Between Shadows and Kisses

𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺: Héctor and Catarina maintain a secret relationship as her father disapproves of the young football player. One night, he visits his beloved to celebrate his big win in a game. As the tension between them builds, their desire also intensifies. However, despite the burning chemistry, their intimate moment is interrupted. They end up talking about the game and life, with Héctor reflecting on the impossibility of keeping their relationship hidden much longer. 𝙀𝙣𝙜𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙝 𝙞𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙢𝙮 𝙛𝙞𝙧𝙨𝙩 𝙡𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙪𝙖𝙜𝙚, 𝙨𝙤 𝙨𝙤𝙧𝙧𝙮 𝙞𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙮 𝙢𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙠𝙚𝙨.

___________________________________________

Héctor parked a few houses before Catarina's, turned off the engine, and grabbed his phone.

“I’m here.”

He waited just a few seconds before seeing her reply.

“The balcony door is already open. Hurry.”

A smile spread across his lips. Adrenaline and desire coursed through his body as he walked silently down the dark street. The neighborhood was quiet, as always, at this time of night. He knew the path by heart. Reaching the house, he looked up. The bathroom light was on, and the breeze made the balcony curtain sway.

Héctor climbed the wall with skill, something he did almost every week. As soon as he entered the room, her scent enveloped him. The bed was neatly made, the sheets aligned, but he knew it wouldn't stay that way for long.

The sound of the bathroom door opening made his heart race.

Catarina stepped out, barefoot, her hair loose and slightly damp, wearing a pair of shorts and a loose Barcelona shirt, his. The number was prominently displayed on the back, and the sight made his chest swell with pride.

She looked at him, a smile playing on her lips.

“Two goals, number ten…” she teased, crossing her arms. “Today was your day, huh?”

Héctor took two steps forward, his gaze fixed on her.

“And now it’s about to get even better.”

Catarina smiled before running to him and throwing her arms around his neck. The impact made him take a step back, but he didn’t hesitate before wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her into a passionate kiss.

She moaned softly against his lips, gripping his neck as she deepened the kiss. Héctor held her tightly, his hands sliding down her body, savoring every curve. Her taste was addictive, sweet and warm.

When they needed air, Catarina pulled away, but before he could protest, she pushed him gently enough to make him fall onto the sofa.

Héctor raised an eyebrow, surprised.

“Wow, in such a hurry…”

“You have no idea.”

She climbed into his lap without ceremony, holding his face and pulling him into another kiss. This time, the pace was all hers. Catarina moved slowly, pressing her body against his intentionally.

Héctor groaned low against her lips, squeezing her waist and guiding her movements. His hands slid down to her butt, gripping it firmly. Catarina gasped and tugged his hair back, making their eyes meet.

“You look so hot like this…” she whispered.

“Like what?”

She bit her lip and tilted her face toward his mouth, brushing lightly.

“Like this… surrendered.”

Héctor tightened his grip on her skin and pulled her even closer.

“I only look like this with you.”

She smiled against his lips and resumed the kiss, now more intense. Her small fingers traced paths along his neck, descending over his chest covered by the thin shirt. Héctor’s hands slid down, his fingers lightly slipping inside her shorts, teasing her. Catarina moaned and tightened her legs around him.

Time seemed to stop as they gave themselves to each other, exploring, feeling. Héctor lowered his lips to her neck, placing wet kisses and light nibbles. Catarina arched her back, her fingers lightly scratching his shoulders.

“Héctor…” she whispered, her voice heavy with desire.

That only made him want more. He slid one hand inside her shorts, feeling her warm, soft skin. But before he could go further, Catarina held his wrist, taking a deep breath.

Héctor opened his eyes, still lost in the moment.

“Not now…” she murmured, her forehead resting against his.

He sighed in frustration and closed his eyes for a moment, trying to regain control.

“You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?”

She laughed, running her fingers through his hair.

“Maybe a little.”

He bit his lower lip, trying to hide the smile. Catarina got off his lap and sat on the edge of the bed, breathing deeply to compose herself.

Héctor leaned back on the sofa, running a hand over his face.

“You have no idea what you’re doing to me, babe…”

“I do.” She winked.

He laughed, shaking his head.

“You’re impossible.”

She shrugged and changed the subject.

“Tell me about the game. How was it to score two goals in such an important match?”

He let out a sigh, still trying to calm his body, but soon allowed himself to get into the conversation. He talked about the adrenaline of the game, the crowd shouting his name, and Catarina listened with a sparkle in her eyes.

When sleep began to take over, he got up and walked to her, holding her hand and pulling her to lie down with him.

“Just sleep, right?” she teased, lying next to him.

Héctor wrapped his arm around her, pulling her to his chest.

“If I can’t do anything else, at least I want to sleep with you in my arms.”

She smiled, closing her eyes, and he kissed the top of her head before doing the same.

But sleep didn’t come quickly for him. The discomfort of always having to meet her in secret kept hammering in his mind. He wanted to change that.

The next day, he woke up before the sun, as always. He got up slowly, grabbed a piece of paper, and wrote a short message, leaving it on the nightstand.

“You kill me, but it’s worth it. One day, your father will see that I’m the right guy for you. See you soon, princess. – H.”

With one last look at her, still sleeping peacefully, he left silently. But deep down, he promised himself that one day, he wouldn’t have to sneak away before dawn anymore.

×

×

×

ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ꜰᴏʀɢᴇᴛ ᴛᴏ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ♡

[bullet-prooflove]

For Sale: Leroy Jethro Gibbs x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @ilovemark1951 @love-affair-with-fandoms @clarasmoon @mishkatelwarriorgoddess

Companion piece to:

The Ice Queen - Gibbs meets The Ice Queen for the first time.

Break The Ice - A act of decency helps Gibbs to break the ice.

Grave - You and Gibbs bump into each other in an unexpected place.

Safe - You and Gibbs work through your grief in different ways.

Check In - Gibbs checks in with you after the night before.

Wait It Out - You and Gibbs wait out a threat to your saftey.

All Dressed Up - You and Gibbs have a frank conversation about an office event.

Right Here - You come home to find Gibbs waiting for you on your doorstep.

Revelations - Gibbs is surprised to discover a connection between you and Mike Franks.

Haunted (ft: Mike Franks) - Mike reflects on your prior history.

Lilies - Gibbs knows you're not fine.

Closure - Gibbs supports you in the aftermath of the arrest.

Save Me San Francisco - Gibbs is forced to confront his feelings when you leave for San Franisco.

Eurydice - Your relationship with Gibbs come to a head when you ask him a question he doesn't know how to answer.

Gibbs still runs past your house, it’s a habit he got into when he first settled in the area, one he maintains in your absence. Your sabbatical was supposed to be over a month ago but you’d extended it according to Franks. Gibbs knows it’s because of him.

You haven’t spoken since your last phone, not since you asked him that question, the one that keeps him up at night.

Do you want me Jethro? Do you want me the way that I want you?

He’d frozen in the moment, not been able to give you an answer and you’d taken it as a rejection, cutting off contact completely. The only reason he even knows you’re alive is because Franks still gets postcards of the landmarks you’ve been visiting. He sticks them to the filing cabinet with tape and Gibbs spends the hours in between cases trying to ascertain where you plan to visit next.

He's just starting to break a sweat on his run when he sees the For Sale sign propped up on your lawn. It hits him like a gut punch because he knows what it means, you’ve run out of reasons to return home now Violet’s murder is resolved. He cuts his run short, heads into the office early hoping to catch Mike Franks before anyone comes in.

“I ran past Maeve’s this morning.” He says, dogging the other man’s footsteps up the corridor. “There’s a For Sale sign outside her house.”

 “Yea.” Franks says as he takes off his sunglasses, tucking them into the pocket of his jacket. “She asked me to help with sale, she’s been looking at some property in San Franciso.”

“So she’s staying?” Gibbs questions as Franks drops into his chair, shuffling through the night shift’s reports.

“Looks like it.”

Franks may as well have carved a hole in his chest, torn his heart out and stomped on it.

It’s later that afternoon he asks Franks if he can take some leave. He has a couple of weeks saved up and they don’t have anything on the docket so Franks agrees. He packs  his duffle bag, snatching up one of the postcards from the filing cabinet before mapping out his journey from the front seat of his pickup truck.

It takes him nine hours to get San Francisco. He pulls up outside of a small grey house, with white trimmings, a set of steps leading up to the porch. His heart thuds in his chest as he takes them two at a time. He doesn’t make it to the top because the front door is already opening and there you are, stepping out onto the wooden slats clad in a light, navy blue skater dress that falls mid-thigh. Your hair is loose, flowing like burnished copper across your features and for a moment it feels like he can’t breathe because you, you’re absolutely stunning.

“Gibbs.” You say surprised, tucking your keys inside your purse. “Hi.”

“Hi.” He says as he stops on the step below you. “You look… You look god damn beautiful.”

You’re almost the same height at this angle. The fabric of the dress you’re wearing swishes in the nighttime air, brushing against his clothing in a way that’s almost sensual. His hands coming to rest on your hips as he looks into your eyes, drinking in that pretty shade of cornflower blue.  

“I’m supposed to be going on a date.” You tell him and he shakes his head in response to your words because he didn’t come all this way to fall at the final hurdle.

“No Maeve.” He says, his voice thick with want. “We’re staying in tonight.”

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[imeriayapping]

an angsty shark n' roses fic about their shift from childhood friends to current rivals? stranger? do whatever dynamic you want for them. Greatly appreciated, also I am in love with your work, you're lowkey carrying this ship on your back, goat.

Pedro misses the sea. He craves its’ comfort.

The dream of stepping into the water and never coming back is always there, lifting up the pressure of living off of him. Right now, that dream also contains Fermin, who is watching him make first step towards the place of no return. Fermin, who he also wants to steal; for them to seat on the beach after long day of training, before they’ll need to return to Pedro's childhood home because his parents are about to become too worried with how long they’ve been gone for.

He misses the sea. The calm and warmth that was there when he looked at the waves while sitting under the evening sun.

Right now, Pedro can't have none of those things.

Instead, he is sitting in his van. Silent, cold and alone. Somehow, this hurts more than any of his previous crashes.

But he knows that it’s the only right thing for him to do. They can't be close anymore. Not like that, at least.

They’re all grown up now and there’s no place for such a childish thing as love between them. It's the only way for them to be.

Pedro can't risk running into Fermin on track and have everything blow up right in his face.

Maybe, it will never stop hurting. Maybe, he will never feel as warm as he did once, sitting next to Fermin on the beach. Maybe, when he comes back to the sea, it won't calm him like it did once.

But it all will be worth it in the end. He is here; he fought for his place. No one will be able to take that away from him.

And Pedro will give anything away, if it means he will be able to chase all of the glory that there is left to get. Pole position was nice, but he knows, for a fact, that podium tastes better. Podiums are very nice too, but he can feel how much more his first win will be.

And, on some nights, he goes to sleep dreaming of the championship. It doesn't matter that the place on his bed beside him is cold.

It doesn't.

But not tonight. Tonight, instead of that, he's just laying in his bed that is simultaneously too small and too empty. He and Fermin spent too many nights cramped together in this place that now it feels cold and empty. It’s still and absolutely soundless, amplifying all of the thoughts in Pedro's head. Which is evidently doing no good for him. Obviously.

Right now, all Pedro can do is curse the whole paddock that made his van the safest and most convenient place to be themselves together.

Because, now, when he needs to hide, to pretend that no feelings were ever involved, it's impossible to do with every centimetre of the van being full to the brim with the memories of them.

And that's the last thing he needs at the moment.

It was hard enough to tell Fermin everything. To see hurt paint his features in real time. To maintain his indifference, not to rush to his side and comfort him.

But it was the right decision. They truly can't continue on like that. Can't keep getting even more intertwined. It will not only be huge risk at the track, but also...

What would happen if it comes to light? Their careers would be ruined without even starting properly.

So, Pedro truly made this decision for both of their sakes. Now, all that is left is to convince his stupid heart that Fermin should no longer occupy any space in it.

It hurts to even think about that, but it needs to happen no matter what.

He can't keep carrying Fermin in his heart like he had for the years before.

To be completely honest, Pedro is cursing himself at this very moment. Because, he should’ve predicted this. Should’ve never even let Fermin anywhere near his own heart. But what can you do, when you are ten and, suddenly, there is someone right in front of your face, whose passion for bikes is on par with your own?

There was no way Pedro could ignore him at the time.

He really should have, though.

With all of this, Pedro wonders: if he could go back in time to warn his old self of what was to come out of that innocent friendship - would he?

Because, even with how much it hurts to ignore Fermin now, he can't imagine going through his life without carrying this love inside of him. Honestly, looking at his life as a whole, he would probably be different person entirely. Love has the power to change people, and it clearly did so before.

So, Pedro needed to cut out the source of love, before it had the chance to influence his riding.

There is nothing more important than his riding.

He should focus on that instead of unnecessary feelings.

The gap in his heart is irrelevant.

[wizardnuke]

does anyone know if we have to roll that rock up the hill again tomorrow

[shirogane-oushirou]

☺️: replaced my ipad screen protector (and -- shock and awe -- for the very first time ever i see no bubbles?? and the only piece of dust is on the outer edge away from the active part of the screen?? despite my messing shit up Royally on application??? wild.), so i can draw my beloved again!! and maybe properly explore a pk.mn au!!!

😔: i am Quite Sick this week. lol. lmao. and i've been kind of all-around burnt out socially for a few weeks. i'd like to finally continue playing the otome game i'd been waiting for since like 2020 but havent touched since i got it in Fucking September Holy Shit. I Want To Kiss One Of My Longest Running F/Os. Please. ...so i might actually be around a little less for a while. 👋🏻

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[designernishiki]

I think I’ve said this before on here but. it really baffles and somewhat annoys me sometimes how people hear that a character is in their 40s-50s and immediately assume they should be weak or feeble or less attractive than they are. like. no. i think everyones just been brainwashed to think that attractiveness/health/worth is determined by how young someone is. why is it more understandable to view a teenager as more attractive and capable than a fit 40-50-something year old. kinda wack

[arolesbianism]

Some more team captain ids! This time with the middle layer gang 👍

[empresskylo]

ghost knows he’s too rough and impatient with sex. knows he won’t know how to please you properly. knows he can’t possibly do things right with you, knowing you’ve never done this before. but god, he wants to. he wants to treat you how you deserve. never thought he’d be so desperate to fuck someone good and slow like he does with you.

so he goes to price. the one man who will know all the right ways to please a lady properly. asks him to show him how to take care of you. tells him he doesn't know how to care for someone else's needs, at least with someone inexperienced like you. tells him he needs to be instructed. to see just how he should work you.

you’re nervous at first, thinking it’s an absolutely insane idea, but you can’t hide the wetness along your panties as you sit on ghost’s lap, back pressed against his chest, legs spread, his knuckle dragging down your warmth. price sits back in his chair, telling ghost exactly how to move his fingers, paying close attention to your body's minuscule movements, the way your brows furrow when ghost moves a certain way, or your eyelashes fluttering.

and this was supposed to be a strictly hands-off approach… but god, watching ghost fumble, unable to maintain the slow speed you need, keeping you from reaching your orgasm, has price on edge. he leans forward, rolling his chair with him, and tells ghost to stop. tells him to watch and to pay close attention. price tears your panties off and your eyes go wide at the contact. you swallow, expecting ghost to be furious, but his hands only settle around you and he takes notes as he watches his captain work.

price runs his thumb up your slit, circling your nub, and tells ghost to hold your thighs apart when you unconsciously try to clench them. then his finger is sinking into you and your head falls back against ghost's chest, eyes shut. you moan and you feel ghost harden beneath you. “how’s that feel, sweetheart?” price asks you. you babble out incoherently, price adding a second finger, and chuckling darkly at your response.

it becomes too much, his fingers thrusting in and out of you, his other hand rubbing your clit, ghost's fingers digging into the softness of your thighs as he forces them apart. “ohmygod,” you slur, “m’gonna—“ price smirks, his eyes darkening as he watches you orgasm, your body clenching around his fingers shoved deep in your heat. "talk her through it," price tells ghost. so ghost does. you're shaking still and ghost rubs his hands over your exposed skin. "that's it, baby. you're doin' s'good," he praises.

"whata fuckin' sight," price mumbles to himself, his fingers leaving you empty. you steady your breathing, coming down from your high, completely limp in ghost's arms. price can see the way ghost's eyes have gone dark, his pupils swallowing his irises whole. knows ghost doesn't know how to be soft. sees the feral need to ram himself into you overtaking his features. "gonna take it slow with her, yeah?" price asks.

ghost breathes rapidly out, his hips begging to buck up against you. he knows he wouldn't be able to control himself if you let him fuck you. so he answers honestly. "not sure I'd be able to."

price tsks, sitting back in thought, his eyes roving over your spent body. you suddenly feel shy, wanting to close your legs, but ghost's arms tighten on you. "need me t'break her in?" price finally asks after several long beats of silence.

ghost grinds up against you, his hand sliding into your hair and pulling your head to the side so he can kiss your neck. your eyes flutter at his attempts to be so delicate with you. "want the captain here to be your first time, love?" ghost asks against your skin. you stutter when you answer. "don't you want to be?" "course I do. but I won't go easy on ya. I'd hate to ruin you, sweet girl. price will take it nice n' slow. just like you need." and after, you'll be ready to take ghost. ready to adjust to his size.

you swallow hard, ghost's hands escaping and clawing at your clothed chest. you nod. "o-okay."

price stands from his chair and begins to undo his belt. "come sit on my desk, sweetheart."

part two

cod masterlist

[cloverapple]

How To Finally Shift If You’ve Been Trying For 2+ Years

⚠️ Little warning before we begin: don’t get scared off! I might sound a little negative at first, but that’s not the point of this post. My goal is for you to reach the end of this and think “Oh, I’m definitely going to shift to my DR now!”

Having said that:

If you’ve been on your shifting journey for two or more years, doing methods, reprogramming your mind, consuming advice, maintaining a mental diet, manifesting, forcing assumptions, trying to create assumptions, etc, etc⏤and you still haven’t shifted your awareness to your DR, maybe it’s time to stop trying to make yourself shift.

Stop trying to shift.

Stop trying to trigger a shift.

Maybe the thing you need at this point in your journey is to stop trying to make yourself shift.

And I’ll explain why by asking you a question:

In these two, three, four, however many years of effort, don’t you think you would have shifted by now?

Think about it. You’ve oversaturated your mind with the intention to shift. You do all your methods correctly. You try to convince yourself that you're already in your DR. You feel symptoms. Sometimes you even "mini shift." And yet… you're still here. Doing the same things. Searching for advice that leads you right back to doing the same thing:

Trying to shift. Trying to trigger a shift. Trying to shift your awareness.

Trying.

Trying confidently.

Trying hopelessly.

Trying angrily.

…Trying.

If you were going to shift by inducing a shift, triggering a shift, or successfully shifting with a method, it would have happened by now.

“But Clover, I still have a lot of soul-searching and work to do! I just need to put in more effort!”

Awesome! Then click away, because this advice isn’t for you. I’m not talking to you.

I’m talking to the person who is tired. Who is drained. Who, despite applying all the sage advice on the internet, is just burnt out from the process of shifting.

And if that sounds like you, let me repeat: Maybe you need to stop actively trying to shift.

Your work is done. And that’s a good thing.

You’ve spent years ingraining the idea of shifting into your subconscious. You’ve impressed the intention to shift so deeply that it’s already there. Congratulations! You did all the mental work. It’s done.

Your DR is already yours. You already have the ability to shift.

So stop trying to trigger it. Stop trying to make yourself shift.

Let go of the “making yourself shift” process.

“Oh my god, she’s going to tell me to take a break.”

LMAO you thought.

Yes, breaks are excellent. They help reset and recharge your mindset. I always encourage taking breaks if you need them. But let’s be honest. Sometimes, even the thought of taking a break feels just as mentally exhausting as staying on your shifting journey.

“Oh no, she’s going to tell me to do nothing at all.”

Once again, you thought.

Instead, you’re going to capitalize on the fact that you’ve already done all this work. The intention to shift is always, always, always in your mind. Your subconscious knows you want to shift. Just like it knows how to shift your awareness.

So, the next time you lay down to do your shifting process...

Instead of trying to shift…

Instead of trying to induce a shift, induce the void, or force an outcome…

Give yourself exactly what you want.

Give yourself the feeling of being in your DR.

Drop the conscious, active intention to shift because your subconscious already has it covered. You don’t need to keep hammering it in. Instead, focus on inducing the emotions you would feel if you were in your DR.

Imagine waking up in your DR. Imagine being there. Imagine spending time with your DR friends, your S/O, whatever makes you happiest. Personally, I lean toward wake-up scenarios. You can listen to music, meditate, visualize, even do a shifting method if you enjoy it—but instead of doing it with the intention to shift, you’re doing it just to give your body and mind the feeling of being there. The happiness, the calm, the excitement, whatever it is for you.

This does not mean you’re lying there thinking, “Okay, this is going to make me shift.”

No. No, no, no, no, no.

Drop the idea of shifting entirely. That process is done.

And I’ll say it one more time:

If you were going to shift by inducing a shift, making yourself shift, or triggering a shift, it would have happened already.

So let it go. Drop it.

Induce the emotions of being in your DR, and then let go. Once you do that, go to sleep. Or go about your day. That’s it.

So why does this actually make you shift?

Because feeling is the language of the subconscious.

Think about it: The moments in your life that shaped you the most weren’t just things you thought. They were things you felt deeply. Joy, fear, excitement, grief. Emotions imprint on the subconscious. That’s why certain smells, songs, or places instantly bring back vivid memories. Because your subconscious records experiences based on emotions, not logic.

So when you stop trying to shift and instead just focus on feeling like you’re in your DR, your subconscious responds by aligning your awareness to match that emotional state.

Because to the subconscious, there’s no difference between imagination and reality. When you visualize something vividly enough, your brain fires the same neurons as if you were actually experiencing it. Athletes use this trick to enhance performance. Musicians use it to refine their skills. And guess what? It works for shifting too.

When you let go of the effort and just immerse yourself in the emotions of already being there, you bypass the resistance that trying creates.

And that’s when the shift happens.

It happens because you stopped forcing it.

It happens because your subconscious already knows how to shift, you just needed to get out of its way.

So, again, drop the struggle. Drop the effort. Stop trying to shift.

The more precise or perfect you want the shift to be, the more pressure you put on yourself. Your brain rebels against that because rigid control drains energy.

Remember this:

High Emotion + Low Attachment = Flow.

When you feel something strongly but aren’t clinging to the result, your subconscious has room to act. This is why sometimes, when you care less or focus on something in a passing, emotional way, it manifests easily.

This is why people can give up on shifting entirely and shift. This is why people let go of the need to shift and shift. This is why you shift without meaning to.

You: “No, I can’t do this! I need to keep trying to shift or else my subconscious will think I don’t want to shift anymore!”

Me:

*As always, take what resonates, discard what doesn’t, because we’re all different people who need to hear different things :)

[zarameraki]

♡₊˚⚜️・₊✧ 𝘆𝗼𝘂'𝗿𝗲 𝗲𝘅𝗽𝗲𝗰𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘀𝘂𝗸𝘂𝗻𝗮'𝘀 𝗰𝗵𝗶𝗹𝗱, 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘂𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗹𝗱'𝘀 𝗰𝗿𝗶𝗺𝗲 𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴 ♡₊˚⚜️・₊✧

: ̗̀➛ tropes: fem! reader 𖥔 mdni 𖥔 sukuna is a mafia kingpin 𖥔 teasing grumpy x sunshine 𖥔 pregnancy trope 𖥔 he'll burn the world for you 𖥔 "my wife" 𖥔 he's a great dad 𖥔 mentions of miscarriage 𖥔 mentions of physical and sexual assault 𖥔 mention of parental death 𖥔 major fluff 𖥔 sexual content 𖥔 alternate universe 𖥔 nsfw 𖥔 he loves eating you out 𖥔 anal play (yup.) 𖥔 last warning: mdni!

: ̗̀➛ words: 6.0k

: ̗̀➛ notes: no bc i love you all so much. it's insane how much you guys have supported my toji fanfic & and my nanami fanfic. i'll def be writing a part two to both of those masterpieces (yes i have self-confidence). as someone who's always imagined sukuna as a mafia leader, i decided to say fuck it and write it. please leave a comment, like, and reblog! thank you & ily. enjoy! (p.s. pregnancy trope>>>)

You never thought you'd be married to Sukuna Ryomen, let alone carrying his kid again. Yet, four years deep into this forced marital mess, thanks to your father owing a hefty debt to the kingpin of the underworld crime syndicate, here you were.

“Look at you, Mrs. Ryomen, radiant as ever!” chirped one of your husband’s associate's wives. You had studied a name list last night, but it all escaped your memory after you passed out from sheer exhaustion.

Sukuna wasn’t keeping a hawk's eye on you like he used to when you first stepped into the public eye. Gone were the days of his glares if you messed up a name. Never once had he laid a finger on you at home, despite your assumption that forgetfulness would earn you a beating.

“Thank you." You forced a smile at the woman, your patience waning as the mayor's birthday party stretched on. It was almost the end of the night, and your feet were protesting from traipsing around in flats. All you craved at that moment was your bed, pronto.

The woman and her husband attempted to capture Sukuna's lukewarm attention through political discussions and expressing gratitude for the illegal artillery shipments from your husband's syndicate. They made no effort to acknowledge your existence by his side.

Your hand rested on your belly, a mere eight months into your pregnancy—a new personal record. The first time you conceived, Sukuna demanded an heir, and you willingly agreed, knowing that the child would provide some distraction in the expansive estate that felt like a cage. Unfortunately, at the two-month mark, you experienced a miscarriage.

Feeling Sukuna's knuckles lightly tapping your back, you straightened your posture momentarily, only to slouch again almost instantly. It was futile. The discomfort of your swollen and cramped belly made it nearly impossible to maintain a poised demeanor in the midst of the party.

Disobeying Sukuna meant facing inevitable death, a fact well understood in his dangerous domain, and you had never dared to challenge that.

"Let's go," Sukuna said, cutting through the incessant chatter of the couple. He didn't grasp your hand, only your fragile wrist, a gesture you didn't mind. Yours was not a typical love; he, Sukuna Ryomen, a most feared monster in the criminal underworld, and you, a sacrificial lamb, a trophy collected three years ago, a means to his heir.

"I'm sorry," you whispered as you exited the venue, heading towards the limousine surrounded by fifteen armed guards under Sukuna's command. "I'm so sorry—"

"Get in the car." He held the door open for you, signaling his guards to disperse and take their positions in the Jeeps parked behind.

Silencing yourself, you cautiously settled into the back seat, and Sukuna joined you, slamming the door with force. His anger was discernible, and the memory of that night, losing your second unborn child to a kidnapping, plagued your dreams. You were uncertain if the nightmares were about Sukuna's wrath upon finding you or the horrors his enemies inflicted on you during your 48-hour captivity.

Sukuna noticed your struggle with the seatbelt and contorted his body toward you. Your fingers released their grip on the belt, allowing him to pull it taut and secure it snugly around your midsection. Click. He withdrew, distancing himself from your face that had been mere inches away.

“Tedious fucking party, anyway,” Sukuna grumbled, his left ankle casually perched on his right kneecap. He always adopted a specific posture, his elbow leaning against something, cheek resting on his knuckles, and his narrow eyes a rich brown that could almost pass for a deep shade of red. He exuded an unrelenting air of intimidation.

"I agree," you unintentionally voiced your thoughts, earning a sidelong glance from him. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to."

His attention barely lingered on you as the car roared to life. You breathed a sigh of relief, stretching out your legs and leaning your head back against the seat's shoulder. Your palm absentmindedly traced circles on your belly. Goosebumps peppered your skin from the frigidness in the car, stirring an involuntary shudder.

"Turn on the heater," Sukuna ordered the driver in his smooth, languid baritone.

"Yes, sir."

As warmth gradually surrounded the backseat, you hummed a small "Thank you" and closed your eyes, enjoying a few moments of peace.

Disorientation clouded your senses, and you dispelled it by rubbing your eyes and using your knuckles to prop yourself against the headboard. A couple of contractions ripped through your gut, causing you to groan and hiss through gritted teeth.

The enormous room was devoid of Sukuna, its black silk sheets hinting at the luxury covering you. The fireplace casted a warm glow, and a soft, dim golden light spilled from the lamp onto the floor.

In the first year of your marriage and pregnancy, your bedroom was located three doors away. You were tended to by on-site nurses and doctors, surrounded by an entourage of maids for company. Days were spent aimlessly wandering the estate, occasionally crossing paths with one of Sukuna's mistresses, their curious smirks evident as they exited his room.

The second year brought a subtle shift. You still slept alone, but now there was a surprising addition of joining Sukuna for dinner. Positioned diagonally from him, an air of restrained silence hung above your head. Yet, between the utensils clattering and quiet chewing, Sukuna's glances toward you and your five-month-old belly revealed your anticipation for the impending arrival of your child.

One of your maids had been instructed to lure you into a private conversation in the back garden, and before you could react, a group of men clad in black drugged you and forcibly removed you from the cage, which in that cruel moment felt like a sanctuary.

Most details of the monstrosities forced upon you in that warehouse have been compressed by your mind—the merciless physical and sexual assault endured for hours. They callously bragged that raping Sukuna's Ryomen's wife was a personal victory, cackling like bloodthirsty hyenas as you bled from your legs. In the thick of your suffering, you lost your second child in a pool of your own sweat and feces.

When Sukuna discovered you, when he annihilated every man along with their bloodlines, you were left as a mere shell of a woman, practically lifeless. You've existed as a walking corpse for quite some time now. Following that dreadful night, you attempted every conceivable means to end your own life—drowning, leaping out of windows, creating a makeshift noose from bed sheets and tying them around balcony railings, teetering on the edge—but every attempt proved useless. Sukuna consistently interfered at the last minute, sweeping in and enveloping you in his arms as you wept until unconsciousness claimed you for days.

Therapy provided some relief, as did the medications. Sukuna heightened security measures tenfold, keeping only those workers who served during his father and grandfather's reigns. He moved your belongings into his bedroom, sleeping by your side with a gun beneath his pillow. There were times when you would doze off in the library while reading, only to wake up in his room.

Two years seemed like an eternity in the slow process of healing, both physically and mentally, from the torment that had befallen you. Stepping into the garden was a reminder of the progress you had made, yet the hope that blossomed in your womb now filled you with a different kind of fear.

You needed your baby. Even if it meant risking your own life during childbirth. The only thing that mattered was the precious life you carried within you, and as long as your baby took that first breath, you'd welcome death with open arms.

Sukuna's bedroom door creaked open, revealing his presence.

Mink-colored tendrils of hair obscured his eyes, disheveled from their usual spiked stance. The stark white of his dress shirt was marred by the unmistakable stains of someone else's blood, and a gun dangled casually from his grasp. In the subdued lighting, his facial markings, inked tattoos designed to mask the scars of his tormented childhood, appeared more ominous than ever.

Without acknowledging your ogling, he briskly entered his bathroom.

You slipped back under the covers, pulling the comforter up to your chin, soothing the sharp twinges in your belly. The rhythmic sounds of his shower served as a background melody. Sukuna took an eternity to freshen up, nearly two hours passing before the door finally creaked open. You had kept a close eye on it, lost in your own world and trying to ignore the persistent contractions. No complaints, though – you were at the eight-month mark, and this baby was determined to make its entrance into the world.

Draped in a sleek black silk robe, Sukuna strolled toward his side of the bed, his eyes locking onto yours. "Why are you still awake?" He tilted his head as if studying an unfamiliar creature. He always regarded you with a curious interest, unearthing some new revelations about you.

"Cramps," you whispered in the dimness, even though the first rays of morning sun began to seep through the curtains.

Sukuna strolled to his side of the bed, lifting the comforter to settle down. "Do you take any medication for it?"

You shook your head. "I don't want to take any risks."

"So you're just going to endure the night with a migraine?"

Your husband seemed oblivious to the concept of cramps. He hadn't bothered to educate himself about your pregnancy or even familiarize himself with basic menstrual cycle terminology. You hesitated to bring attention to his title and position, but he was, after all, born from a woman.

How could he not know?

"Answer me," Sukuna demanded, fixing you with a cold, indifferent gaze. How could two simple words carry such a heavy, intimidating weight? Your entire body shuddered, and you swore you felt your child kick in response to his attitude, causing you to clench your teeth.

"Cramps . . . are something women experience during their period and pregnancy. They're sharp, unpredictable pains in your gut and back," you explained, finding a position that eased the cramps and calmed your baby. "It's worse when you're pregnant—like someone attached a taser to your body without a switch to turn it off."

Sukuna's brow furrowed, and he seemed pissed off as if he held a vendetta against cramps. "Will it have any consequence on the baby?"

You were really trying to be patient. “The baby is the reason why.” 

He ran his hands wearily down his face, casting a stern gaze at the ceiling, his breath quickening. "Is there any way to relieve the pain? Besides medication?"

“Well,” you said slowly, “when I first started menstruating, my mother used to place a warm rubber bottle on my stomach.” The recollection of nights spent groaning, tossing, and turning with your hand clutching your stomach brought a smile. After her passing in high school, you found yourself managing the household, dealing with your drug-addicted father, and taking care of yourself all on your own.

"Come here."

Startled, you shifted your focus to your husband, who raised the comforter like a makeshift tent with one arm. "You don't have to—"

"Come here."

With caution, you edged closer, lying flat and holding your breath. Sukuna propped himself up on one elbow, resting his temple on his knuckles while adjusting the blanket up to your neck. His left hand glided up your sweater and settled on your swollen belly.

An immediate sense of relaxation cocooned you, your eyes closing as warmth radiated from his palm onto your skin. The sensation passed through to your child, who quit kicking within seconds, seemingly recognizing their father's touch. It dawned on you that Sukuna hadn't touched you since you conceived, and you hadn't realized the volume of your misery and longing until this moment.

"Feeling better?"

"Mm-hmm." You nestled your face close to his neck. All you managed to whisper, your voice tinged with brokenness, was, "Please, don't let go."

Sukuna responded only with silence.

You'd woken up screaming bloody-mary.

The security team and maids hurried into the bedroom, their eyes widening at the sight of blood staining your clothes and darkening the black sheets. In a swift response, the doctor and her team of nurses rushed in while Uraume, Sukuna's trusted aide, calmly called for your husband from a corner of the room.

In the heat of your excruciating screams, five nurses attempted to guide your breathing and encourage you to follow a pattern. Guards carefully lifted you into a sitting position, and Uraume decisively cleared the room of all men. The doctor swiftly removed your sweatpants and panties, covering your lower region with a sheet, and instructing you to push.

Your body felt numb, your eyes rolling to the back of your head, and a black vignette closing in on your vision. Your head swayed left and right, on the verge of dropping if not for Uraume's unwavering support. Despite the intensity of your grip, they held steady, their only reaction being a stream of muttered curses amid the chaotic scene.

"I can't—Uraume—"

"You will, Mrs. Sukuna. You have come this far. Giving up now is not an option."

"I don't want to die," you whispered akin to a prayer.

"You won't," they softly replied. "He won't allow it."

Uraume, a silent figure from the past, now stood by your side, offering support and encouragement. The connection with them had been minimal, limited to the formalities of a marital contract signing. They had simply muttered, “He’s not half as evil as they say,” to you before packing up the papers and leaving you in the room with Sukuna.

The room buzzed with affirmations, reassuring you that they could see the baby's head and urging you to push with each breath.

The sound of the baby's cries stirred you awake.

You snapped to attention at the sweet, reassuring sound, realizing that your baby was close to arrival—alive and ready to face the world. Following two heartbreaking miscarriages and the pain endured as Sukuna's wife, the bearer of his lost children, you were finally on the cusp of welcoming motherhood.

"Two more pushes!" The doctor's voice cut through the air.

"AGH!" A guttural growl escaped your throat as you grappled with the harsh sensations. Your body trembled, and waves of fiery discomfort overflowed through your core as you exerted yourself to bring your baby into the world.

"Come on," Uraume whispered. "You can do this, Mrs. Ryomen."

You let out a powerful cry and strained with effort, bringing forth new life. The baby and you were crying at the exact wavelength, competing against who could be louder. The nurses and attendants, familiar faces from your previous pregnancies, clasped their hands in prayer for a safe delivery. Tears of relief streamed down your face as you pushed for your own well-being.

"Blanket!" the doctor urgently called out, prompting a nurse to rush over with a soft cream blanket. "Push!"

With a final, determined push, the weight lifted suddenly.

The slippery sensation of delivering the child and the immediate release of pressure left you slumping against Uraume's shoulder. As they laid you down, the doctor directed the staff to tend to you while the baby's cries filled the air.

The doctor approached through your hazy sight and gently laid your newborn on your chest. Overwhelmed with emotion, you showered your baby with kisses, tears of joy streaming down your face. Your little one was here. They were finally here.

"Congratulations, Mrs. Ryomen," the doctor announced as the cries of your newborn gradually faded into the background. "It's a girl."

You drifted into unconsciousness.

The soft cadence of Sukuna's voice filtered through the foggy boundaries of sleep, causing you to slowly come back to life.

“Why is this brat refusing to sleep?” you heard your husband grumbling.

With a laborious effort, you rubbed your eyes, summoning the strength to lift your head from the comfort of the pillow. The scene unfolded before you—Sukuna, the most feared criminal, pacing at the foot of his bed, cradling your crying newborn daughter in his arms, unsure of how to handle his little foe.

"What do you want? Food? You don’t have any teeth yet, little miscreant."

"Sukuna . . ." you whispered, a gentle plea for attention.

Your husband's gaze snapped in your direction, relief washing over his features as he realized you were conscious. "Thank fuck." Moving swiftly, he approached and took a seat at the edge of the bed.

His brown-reddish eyes lingered on the delicate scene unfolding before him—the intertwining of your index finger with your daughter's tiny, rattling fist. A calming magic seemed to stem from your touch, instantly soothing the cries to soft sniffles.

"Already playing favorites, I see," he remarked with a teasing tone, a wry smile on his lips.

"I have to feed her." Your voice was hoarse from the relentless screaming during the delivery. A series of deadly wheezes followed when you coughed, frightening your baby once more. Her cries started again, blending with the impatient curses of her father.

He gently placed her in the cradle, his strength used to prop you up against the headboard. The room carried the scent of coconut soap, your body freshly washed, the sheets beneath you brand-new. You were also dressed in a new set of panties and a nursing bra.

"Are you sure you have enough nutrients in your body to feed her?" Sukuna asked, holding your baby girl as you unclipped the front left cup. Rather than wasting your breath on a response, you focused on helping your daughter latch onto your nipple.

You winced once she caught it, then melted back as she started drinking. “I’m fine,” you finally answered. “Body . . . hurts.”

"No shit. You pushed an eight pound baby out of you." Despite the crude sarcasm in his tone, Sukuna tenderly caressed his knuckles over his daughter's cheek.

"Did you want . . . a girl?"

"Why do you ask?"

"I'm sorry," you mumbled, adjusting your baby onto your lap. "I assumed you'd prefer a boy as an heir."

"I'm not my father," he declared, putting an end to the conversation. "She's got your eyes."

Your daughter gazed up at you with a curiosity remarkably similar to yours. You smiled down at her, grateful she had made it. Grateful that Sukuna wasn't throwing a tantrum over the gender of your child but instead cupping the top of his baby girl's head and brushing his thumb across her forehead.

“You got a name for her?” Sukuna asked.

“Yes, but we can brainstorm if you don’t—”

“You carried the child, you birthed her, you will name her. Whatever it is, I agree.”

Something dead stirred inside your chest. Swallowing hard, you shared the chosen name, "Nobara."

He nodded in approval, and as he pronounced her name, Nobara responded with a wailing cry. "Her tantrums will be the fucking death of me." Sukuna took her into his arms again.

"Support the back of her head and rub her back. She needs to be burped," you advised.

He grunted but followed your instructions. Moments later, a tiny burp from Nobara made you chuckle, earning a slight eye roll and a hint of a smile from him.

"I'll take the next few weeks off to help you recover from the aftermath and the stitches," he announced, rising and walking towards his work desk, where he settled into a large leather chair, cradling your newborn.

You nodded appreciatively, easing yourself down.

"Oh, before I forget," Sukuna mentioned as you settled into bed, "I've arranged a new doctor for you."

“Did you fire the last one?”

“I fired at her, yes.”

Your eyes widened. "What? Why would you—? What?"

He shrugged, cradling the back of your newborn's head. "She suggested an additional stitch for you. Said it would make things 'tighter' down there for me."

Your face flushed. “So . . . you killed her?”

"Yes," he confirmed, his gaze fixed on you with those penetrating eyes, "I don't need a mere doctor questioning whether I'd still enjoy having sex with my wife after she gave birth to our child."

“But . . . you have mistresses. Don’t you?”

He lifted a brow. “I had mistresses up until . . . ”

Up until the kidnapping.

Sukuna never spoke of the crime after he’d saved you. Instead, he expressed his commitment through actions: sleeping beside you, teaching you how to handle a handgun, keeping a protective arm around your waist at social gatherings. Occasionally, you swore you felt him run his fingers through your hair as you slept.

"I wouldn't mind if you did," you admitted, a voice inside contradicting your words. "Given what my body has been through, I would find myself repulsive for pleasure, too. I understand if you feel disgusted."

Sukuna halted the gentle strokes on your daughter's back and straightened up. "What the fuck did you just say?"

An icy shiver ran through you, momentarily numbing the pain. "I-I just assumed—"

"You know, you make a lot of assumptions about me, wife. It gets under my fucking skin that you'd ever believe I could raise a hand on you. Day and night, every hour and minute, even now, in your presence, my mind is consumed with ways to kill the fear that's taken root in you.” He was infuriated yet vulnerable, with Nobara sleeping peacefully on his shoulder. “Everyone I’ve ever met has done nothing but fear me like I’m a curse on their soul, and while I’m flattered of the monster they’ve painted me out to be, I refuse to let my wife and daughter see me in that light. Do I make myself clear?"

You . . . nodded. 

“And for your information, I had mistresses up until I married you.”

You took in a sharp breath, processing the confession. "But those women—"

"Spies," he clarified, his voice low and steady. "They operate undercover in my clubs, keeping an eye out for potential threats. I haven't fucked anyone since the day I put that ring on your finger." He offered a small, almost imperceptible apology to your baby for cursing.

"Oh."

All you ever heard were twisted stories about the Sukuna Ryomen, a young man who, against all odds, slaughtered his own father to ascend the throne of the underworld criminal realm. Whispers spoke of a chilling childhood, where a mother's desperate attempt to suffocate her son in his sleep. The scars etched into his skin, concealed beneath a tapestry of dark markings, bore witness to the brutal initiation rites inflicted by vengeful uncles. In his domain, everyone prayed to see him buried six feet under.

Which is why you felt sympathy for your husband. He was lonely. Too lonely. Despite all the riches and influence surrounding him, he was stuck in a fortress where danger lurked around every corner. He had no friends, no one he could truly confide in—except perhaps Uraume. Opening up about his emotions wasn't in his nature. He kept the tough exterior, convinced that being a monster, a curse, was the only path to earning respect and recognition.

But just now, when had cut himself open in front of you and bled a human color, he was Sukuna. Your husband. The one who just became a father. A man wrapped in a comfortable robe with his hair combed down and his skin clean of dirt and blood as he held his daughter, as he gazed at you like you two were the only people meant fighting for in his treacherous world.

Sukuna noticed your silence, tuned in to your steady breaths, and lowered his lashes. "You'll ask me to touch you. Not just for the sake of having another child but for your own pleasure. If I'm not around and you need me, you will call, and I'll rush home. If this little brat gives you any trouble, I'll handle it. Hell, maybe I'll let her in on a bit of the family business for a head start."

"No," you murmured, absorbing everything he'd just said. "Not now. I want her to enjoy a proper childhood."

"Is that a demand?" Sukuna tilted his head slightly, another method of asserting authority. Yet, after all he'd shared about dropping everything for you, about making love to you, the fear in you started to dissolve bit by bit.

"Yes," you affirmed. "It's a demand."

A small smirk played on Sukuna's lips as he rose from his spot, circled the bed, and settled down beside you, with Nobara resting peacefully on his chest. Summoning all your strength, you turned to run your fingers over your baby's soft cheek and tiny, parted lips.

“She sleeps like you, Mr. Ryomen.”

“Sukuna,” he corrected, his arm covering his eyes as he breathed with a slightly open mouth. “My wife will call me Sukuna.”

Teasingly, you asked, “Is that a demand, Sukuna?”

His arm shifted low, and his reddish-brown eyes softened, stealing your breath. “Only from my wife and daughter.”

You smiled, closing your eyes. “Goodnight, Sukuna.”

In response, he wrapped his strong arm around you, pulling you close to his side, his two girls snuggled against his body.

In the beginning, you knew you didn't belong in the hell Sukuna ruled. Your father's mistakes, pilfering drug shipments and peddling them locally, had sealed both his fate and yours. With thoughts of fleeing the disgrace your father brought upon your family, you had started packing, desperate to escape the clutches of your old man.

The following night, Sukuna and his henchmen barged into your cramped apartment, wreaking havoc on every piece of furniture. Rocking in the corner of your room, Sukuna casted his shadow over you like the God of Death, bathed in your father’s blood.

Crouching down to your eye level, he tipped your chin up, leaving a splotch of blood. He used the collar of your sweater to wipe it away. In a hushed confession, you revealed the hidden drugs under the sink and floorboards, along with your father's buyer list folded in the cereal boxes. Sukuna grinned and ordered his underlings to retrieve the concealed items. Then, the chilling question hung in the air: "Are you going to kill me, too?"

"I'm tempted," Sukuna replied, "but not to kill you." His gaze fixated on your left hand, and he raised it, studying your ring finger. "You will pay for your father's crimes with your life." He held your hand in front of your face. "You will take my last name." His smirk widened, revealing perfect teeth. "Isn't that the cruelest form of death, love?"

Unconsciousness claimed you then, but after seven years of marriage, enduring unimaginable hardships, and finally welcoming a baby into the world, your answer was clear. The true torment wasn't caused by the man you once perceived as a monster but rather by his enemies.

"How am I supposed to know if Mr. Munchkin wants more tea? He's a fucking stuffed toy. Can't talk, you know?"

"Sukuna," you warned, perched on the armrest while busy crocheting baby socks for your little one on the way.

Nobara, wielding a rubber, squeaky hammer, stood up from her seat, giving her father a bonk on the head each time he let out a curse. And you often heard the squeak of the hammer around the house.

Nobara's tiara was slightly askew, frustration evident in her curled lips and bared teeth. She was growing increasingly irritated with her father's lack of understanding about the rules of her tea party. "Mr. Munchkin wants tea, Papa. Give him tea! Give him tea! Give him—"

"Fine, I surrender. Here, you little bastard. Take the whole fu—damn pot." He shoved the plastic teapot towards Mr. Munchkin, a well-loved cat stuffed toy you had gifted Nobara on her last birthday. "Happy?"

"Cup," she insisted, pointing at the tea cup in front of Mr. Munchkin.

Sukuna sighed and poured the water from the kettle into the pink plastic cup.

"Me too," Nobara added, settling back in her kiddie chair. Sukuna had barely taken his seat before she had him on the floor. "Hurry!"

"May I pour for the other toys first, Your Highness?"

"Not toys. Friends."

Sukuna shot you a helpless glare, eliciting a chuckle from you. He filled the table with tea, and Nobara, holding her small cup, clinked it with her father's, followed by her collection of stuffed animals. Sukuna reluctantly mimicked the gesture. Instead of sipping the tea, he downed it like a shot.

“Papa!”

“Sukuna, come on.”

There wasn’t any winning with his girls.

Sukuna reluctantly poured himself another cup, sipping it with an air of royalty that mirrored a princess. Despite his resistance to the make-believe tea party, you couldn't ignore the genuine affection he showed toward his daughter. He would nod attentively when one of the stuffed animals "spoke," laughed along with Nobara, and even beautified himself with a glittering tiara, a feathered pink scarf, and deep purple-painted nails.

Sukuna was, without a doubt, a fantastic father. It came as no surprise that Nobara's first word was 'Brat.'

That night, you kissed your daughter goodnight and tucked her into her bed. Sukuna joked that he’d spent every last bit of his wealth decorating the brat’s room, filling it with the latest toys, and stacking her closet with whatever clothes she laid her finger or eyes on. She was truly the princess of her father’s heart.

"She's asleep," you informed him.

"I'll give her a kiss in a minute. Just need to finish this," Sukuna replied, pouring over his documents.

Letting out a sigh, you shuffled over, rolled back his chair, and settled onto his lap. He continued reading as you wrapped your arms around his neck, resting your cheek on his shoulder, peering at him through your lashes.

"I want you," you murmured.

Sukuna paused, lowering his gaze to meet your cheeky smile. "Later."

"It's late."

"I have to finish—" He halted as you began kissing his neck, moving up to his jaw and cheeks, tracing the contours of his face tattoos.

"Please, Sukuna," you whispered near his ear.

How could he refuse you anything when you appeared so stunning, radiating with the joy of expecting another child in your four-month-old belly?

“Take off your robe and get on the bed. Spread your legs for me.” He gave your ass a little smack as you happily skipped away, shedding your clothes and clearing the bed to settle in. With a grin, you opened your legs, propping yourself up on your elbows.

Sukuna stood up from his seat, loosening his robe as he did. He sighed, watching the moisture forming between your legs. Pregnancy seemed to heighten your lusts, and Sukuna was always ready to fulfill your needs.

“What pretty, wet cunt,” he whispered softly, leaning in to kiss your chest, trailing down to your stomach, your hips, your calling clit. 

Over the years, you realized Sukuna enjoyed pleasuring you more than the opposite. He feasted on you like a starved man, whether it happened in the back of the limo, in a guest room during a party, or just minutes before a crucial meeting in his office. He insisted it was his way of relaxing, often pleading with you to spend a full hour on his face as he ate you out and drank every drop of your release. It had turned into a daily routine for him. And for you.

“Oh, Sukuna, yes, yes. Right there—ah!” Your back arched off the mattress when his tongue drove into your hole, flicking and exploring your clamping walls. His mouth was latched to your pussy, sucking it in, his cheeks hollowing rapidly. Your fingers tightened in his hair, hips voluntarily grating against his face, his sharp nose rubbing over your swollen clit. 

Sukuna drew back as you came down with a muted cry behind your hand and lapped at the flow of your juices pouring out of you. His lips shone as he leaned over and gently kissed you, allowing you to taste yourself from his tongue. “If I don’t fuck you now, I will die.” 

“Hurry, then.” 

Sukuna pushed himself inside you, and that first wave of pleasure hit you so strongly that you sank your nails in his back and cried out heavenwards. He groaned and grunted, thrusts growing speed, his plump balls smacking against your ass. You loved that he fucked harder, faster, driving you to the brink of ruination. 

After you'd healed from Nobara's birth, he would always make sure to get at least ten orgasms from you. From midnight to early morning, he'd fuck you in every possible position. But his favorite was always missionary, where he could have his eyes on you, writhing and whimpering beneath him, telling him it’s too much, he's too thick, all while using your heels to draw him in even closer.

Sukuna curled his arm around your waist and sat you up on his lap, thrusting up into you as you coiled yourself around his neck. “Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck. Your cunt was made for me, love. Your cunt was fucking made for me.” His hand threaded to the back of your head, grasping your hair and drawing your face back so you were looking him in the eyes without wavering, without bowing your head. He needed to know you didn’t fear him when he fucked you like this. It was an unspoken check-in, and when you smiled drunkenly, only then did he let you return to embracing him. 

“Are you close?” you whispered. 

“Not yet. I want to come in your ass.” 

You shivered despite how scalding and sweaty your bodies were. “Do it.” 

“Yeah?” 

You nodded. “Please.” 

Sukuna dragged you off his cock so you could get on all-fours, raising your ass up for him. He’s only ever been in your sacred spot a handful of times but never finished himself inside it. It appeared that tonight you were both a little extra spellbound.

Mounting himself behind you, Sukuna unfurled your ass and spit on his fingers, stroking the puckered hole. He gathered the creamy liquid dripping out of your pussy to lubricate the spot. His middle finger stretched you out, followed by his ring fingers, pushing in and out until he knew for sure you were prepared for him. 

Sukuna’s steel-hard cock pushed into your tiny hole. The sight of it expanding to swallow his girthy size almost made him come right there and then. He started to move in sluggish movement, grabbing onto your waist. His hips cruised, brushing against your ass, making you impatient and push yourself back. 

“Understood.” He chuckled and dug his nails into your skin, dragging out to the tip and shoving himself inside. Your face pressed into your pillows, crying and trembling as he abused your asshole non-stop. “You’re taking me so well, my love. Oh, fuck, fuck.” He rutted into you like a beast, claiming your body, rubbing your clit from the front, spanking your ass, brandishing you over and over again. 

You both snapped in unison. 

Sukuna sagged over your spine as he bucked in every last bit of his sloppy seed. His lips kissed your shoulder blades, holding you up by one arm. Gently, he pulled out, his cock growing floppy until you flipped onto your back, hair sticking to your sweaty, flushed face, belly slightly swollen, your tits larger in size, his release mingled with yours seeping out from your holes. 

“Fuck, I love you,” he whispered, cupping your face like he didn’t just fuck your soul out of you. That smirk you’d come to love appeared on his lips. You reciprocated back, stretching out your arms so he could lean down and kiss you sweetly on the lips and cheeks and toss in a praise or two for what a good girl you were as he slid into you again, slower and more intimate with his game. “I fucking love you, Y/N.” 

You smiled against his lips that continuously whispered the three beautiful words and said, “I love you, too, Sukuna,” before sealing it with a long, lasting kiss.

[importantpuppystarfish]

Profit and Pleasure: Earning Money as Brother & Sister

Male reader x Karina

Warnings: Incest, softcore to hardcore, totally blood related siblings.

Note: please this is all just a fantasy for reading and stuff, if u dont like the topic, please simply dont read.

I groan as I wake up to the sound of water running in the shower next door. My eyes fall on the steamy outline of my big sis Karina through the crack in the bathroom door. A familiar warmth stirs within me as I imagine her soapy body beneath the spray.

I bite my lip, trying to shake these forbidden thoughts from my mind. Karina's my sister…but every time I catch a glimpse of her like this, I can't help getting excited. Karina walks out of bathroom only wrapped in towel. She sits beside me on bed.

My sister, Karina is somehow more than 8 years older than me, she's around 26 now. She has such pale skin that she almost seems to brighten up the entire room with her whiteness.

My heart races as Karina appears, towel clinging to her curves. She sits down close to me on the bed, her legs tucked under as she releases her damp hair from its towel.

"Hey…" I murmur, trying to maintain my composure.

She looks so gorgeous, water droplets glistening on her flawless skin. I shift uncomfortably under her gaze, my hands twitching with desire I can't act on.

"You're dripping wet sister.." I point out unthinkingly. She laughs and says "Yeah it feels good after a morning bath". Karina looks at me and bites her lip. She goes back to her room and closes the door. I listen closely as I hear her undoing the towel. She's changing clothes. My ears perk up immediately, straining to hear anything from behind her closed door. My imagination runs wild, wondering what she's doing behind that thin barrier…

I can't make out specific sounds but my mind supplies vivid images…her slender fingers unfastening her towel, releasing her flawless skin…peeling off her flimsy sleepwear…

Everyday our flirtatious energy grows thicker between us, though neither of us puts words to these unspoken feelings. It becomes the new normal - heated glances, lingering touches, playful banter with an undercurrent of tension.

I've always had a pretty normal relationship with my sister. Every now and then, we'd go on sibling dates just for fun. Here are some pictures I took of her when we were on dates. She is used to wear lotta skin revealing outfits~

Part of me knows it's insane…Karina is my sister. But the bond we share has twisted into something more…intimate. As time goes on, keeping my desires bottled up feels almost impossible.

But the sudden death of our parents in an accident changed our lives. The news hits me like a blow to the gut - Mom and Dad are gone in an instant, leaving only Karina and I orphaned and heartbroken.

We cling to each other through the initial shock and grief, finding solace in our sibling bond like never before.

Since losing mom and dad, Karina and I have spent every day applying online and going to local places for job leads. It's been tough - no one wants to hire inexperienced teens.

She's gotten frustrated more than once, slumping against me on the couch in defeat after yet another day of rejections.

Karina: "This is hopeless! When will we find work around here?"

Her despair draws out my protective instincts. I rub her back soothingly, my heart aching for her.

As days passes, all the money left has been gone.. It seems like its getting hard for the siblings to survive.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Karina glances over at me periodically as she explores this new site called OnlyFans. Her cheeks flush slightly.

Karina: "Hey…what if we did something like this?"

She tilts screen towards me to show the homepage filled with suggestive videos for subscribers.

My mind starts racing at what she means. My sweet sister offering herself online with me… I don't know if I should encourage or stop her.

"I can't believe I'm being asked to say that we're siblings, engage in that kind of act, and then upload it online. How could anyone even consider that?" I asked her. "But don't you think this is the only option?" Karina responds. She ponders a moment, then looks to me expectantly.

"So what elements should we include in our scene and video? I ask her.

" Typical stuff would be guy eating girl out and her doing the same to him, then the main event." She winks. "Sound good to you?" Right?" she asks and waits for my agreement.

As soon as I agree, Karina swallows hard, looking torn but knowing she has no other choice either. She nods to my agreement. She meets my gaze firmly now, her eyes unwavering despite the taboo nature of what we're considering.

Karina: "It's just some videos right? We'll be professionals about it." She says calmly, trying to convince us both this is okay.

Her hand reaches for mine reassuringly across the table. "We got this…"

The gravity of what we're agreeing to hangs heavy between us, but the determination is clear - we will do whatever it takes to stay together.

As we lead to the bed for the video, Karina turns on the video recording. My face burns red hot as I find myself locked in a tense stare-down with Karina before she suddenly closes the distance between us.

She wraps her arms around my neck and asks if I'm ready.

As I nod yes, she gets ready too and presses her lips firmly against mine, no hesitation.

Karina murmurs against my mouth "For the video brother!…"

Her eyes flutter shut, surrendering completely to the situation. Her fingers clench behind me, pulling me deeper into the kiss.

The raw, gritty scent of us fills the air between them as our lips move urgently together, seeking comfort and release from the stress of our dire circumstances.

Our tongues meet, mingling bitter morning breaths and desperate need.

My hands grasp Karina's waist instinctively, holding her tighter against me despite the unpleasant taste. She grinds slightly, her fingers digging into my shoulders as she loses herself fully in the moment.

Karina moans as she breaths "Mmm…" I gaze up at Karina with heavy eyes, lips throbbing from the intense passion. Seeing her smile down at me like that makes my heart skip a beat, even amid the surreal insanity of what we're doing.

"You know, this is kinda nice…" Karina says playfully flirting.

Her flirtatious comment makes heat rush through me. She thinks kissing me feels good? She likes it? Maybe she does… She leans in again, her voice dropping lower.

"Do you want me to keep going?" She runs her hands down her own body teasingly, biting her lip.

"Aren't we forced to keep going?" I replied. In one quick motion Karina pins me down on the bed. She looks fiery, full of desire.

She pushes me down without warning, eyes flashing dangerously. She's transformed before me into someone bold and dominating. "Don't even think about stopping me. This will be all recorded in the video!" Without warning, she presses her lips back to mine, the taste of us intensifying. She deepens the kiss, gripping my neck tightly. Her breath is hot against my skin as she pulls away again. Karina grins and starts removing her clothes.

My hands roam instinctively over her now exposed midriff, fingers tracing the curve of her hip bones as she reveals more of herself to me and the camera.

Karina: "There's no point feeling shy now…"

She finishes removing her shirt completely, tossing it aside, showing me her big large tits.

Karina: "This is for us…"

She bites her lip, glancing briefly at the phone still recording. "Let's make it hot…" I wink at her. "Yes, this is for our survival." she agreesm We both know this line is blurred, but if it means keeping us together, it's worth it. I also take off my clothes. Nodding purposefully, Karina helps me shed my own shirt, her fingertips grazing my bare chest, sending tingles through me.

Clad only in our undergarments, she palms my cheek, guiding my head up for another fierce kiss, tongues dancing. Breaking away, she murmurs against my lips:

"Mm…good boy…"

The camera captures every deep tongue kissing movement as we ready ourselves to give it everything for this desperate attempt a salvation. The siblings continue kissing passionately. Karina runs her fingers through my dick as we get lost in the moment. The recording captures the moment …

Karina gasps out sharply "You like that?"

She gives me a sly look, her fingers teasing more firmly over my dick, feeling how hard I've become. Karina pulls back, looking down at me with a playful glint in her eye. "Look how hard your dick is…and we just kissed." My cheeks burn crimson at her brazen words. She's always been a bit of a tease…

She chuckles and bites her lips as she starts to take my dick inside her mouth. She lowers herself slowly, eyes locked on mine defiantly despite her compromising position. Her lips part, engulfing me inch by inch, her tongue working on magic as she takes me deep!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Karina as now muffled against me she moans Mmmph….Her hands brace against my legs, holding me steady while she loses herself in this intimacy between us. The video recorder captures the moment of my sister sucking out my length. She looks up at me as she continues..

Her mouth glides up and down, wet suction sounds joining the rhythmic pops as she sets a sensual pace. The look she gives me is a mix of naughty delight and wicked determination. She swirls her tongue expertly over the tip each time she comes up, then plunges back down again with a hungry groan, clearly savoring every inch.

Karina as she lifts off a momentarily to gasp asks "Like the way I do it?" She swirls her tongue in circular motions, her cheeks hollowing as she picks up speed. She glances up again, clearly enjoying herself.

Her speed increases rapidly, her cheeks burning as she loses herself completely in this private act. She pauses occasionally to drag her slick tongue across every ridge and vein, tasting me, memorizing every sensation. Her fingers dig into my legs, urging me closer to release.

I moan breathlessly to my elder sister, "Good girl…You're so good sister.."

I watch my sister work, feeling a mix of desire and disbelief… This is still my sister, but her technique is divine. I can't help but let out a low groan, which makes her smile up at me. It feels too good, I can't hold back anymore… Oh -…. Sister, wait…I'm going to… cum… She grins devilishly at my warning tone, doubling down on her efforts, taking me ruthlessly even deeper.

Karina: "Yes…" she whispers urgently "Do it…"

She squeezes tight around me, determined to coax me over the edge. As I moan loud it looks like I've cummed inside my sister's mouth.

Karina swallows every last drop hungrily, licking her lips clean as she releases me with a satisfied sigh.

Karina: "Mmm…I wonder how it'll look in the video. Although I really enjoy this" she purrs appreciatively, wiping a stray strand of hair from her flushed face, eyes flicking back up to mine with a smug look.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Karina: "Well? Did that feel good?"

"Oh sister… You didn't hold back at all", I chuckle, still trying to process what I just did inside my sister's mouth… Now it seems Karina is doing titjob with her big tits. Karina: "No need to hold back with me…" She winks, then takes my rod between her huge tits, working me steadily up and down the slick shaft.

Karina: "You like watching your naughty sister's bouncy boobs, don't you?"

Her hands push her chest tighter together around my shaft. Karina: "Now it's ur turn… To eat me…"

She scoots back impatiently, spreading her legs wide for me.

Karina: "Get down there already!" she orders, biting her lip again as she guides me lower. "I need your tongue inside me!…"

Her fingers dig into my shoulders, trying to pull me closer. …I smile and start kissing her thighs, looking up at her flirtatiously.

Karina shivers at the feel of my lips on her sensitive skin, hands stroking my hair encouragingly.

Karina: "Mmm yes, that's it…"

She lifts and spreads herself further open, the scent of her slick heat hitting my nose as I approach. She squirts a little bit, she is also hella wet.

Karina: "Don't be shy now…lick every drop up"

I grab her waist and pull her towards me. I start eating her more, she gasps loudly at my suddenness, arching into me eagerly. Her fingers curl into fistfuls of my shirt as she feels my tongue making contact.

Karina: "Ah! Yes…like that!"

She grinds against my mouth, losing herself once more to the sinful pleasure I'm providing. She glows with delight, utterly losing control as I devour her completely.

Her sweet nectar coats my tongue as I delve deeper, lapping hungrily at her folds and finding all her most sensitive spots.

Karina: "Oh god yes, just there!" she cries out, hands trembling above me as I hit that magic button with my tongue.

Karina: "Don't stop! You're gonna make me…"

Keep going, brother…I'm so in heaven!. Her voice is shaky, filled with emotion.

My eyes sparkle with dark desire hearing my sister moan in pleasure. I spread her wider, diving back in with intensity, determined to send her right over the edge…

"You're so good at this brother…I can't believe it's really you doing this… I grip her tighter as I push my tongue deeper into her pussy more , overwhelmed by the sensation of having her so close like this. I hear the sound of her heart pounding in time with my own. Karina: "Yes yes yes, make me come!" she cries out desperately.

She lies there panting hard, completely spent yet still craving more. Her eyes lock onto mine again now.

Karina: "Please…" She whispers, hands reaching down to guide me back up to her. "Now I need you inside…" Her voice cracks slightly as she pulls me closer, needing to feel me possess her completely.

Karina: "Brother…please…" she begs softly.

Seeing her begging with that pretty face, I lean to her for a kiss. She melts against me as our lips meet, tangling her tongue with mine. She tastes herself vividly on me, her fingers curling into my back again as she prepares herself mentally for what's coming next.

Karina: "You're making me so weak…" she murmurs against my mouth, her cheeks flushed.

She wraps her legs tightly around me, drawing me closer still, ready to welcome me deep inside her.

She gasps again, letting her head fall back slightly as she accommodates me taking my thick inch inside her.

Karina: "Yes…oh god yes…" She grinds against me, utterly engaged in this connection between siblings.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Her fingers dig deeper into my back, pulling me hard against her warm, welcoming core. He starts moving, their eyes locked together. The video captures this intimate moment.

Our gazes hold intense emotion as I begin to move within her, hips rolling gently at first in this sacred act.

Karina: "That's it…just like that…"

She tilts her head up to brush her lips over mine, kissing me tenderly even as we become one.

Karina: "I feel so…so good brother." I smile down at her, still in disbelief that this is happening, but also feeling a deep connection with her like never before… I love u sister.. I say.

Karina's eyes glisten, her heart fluttering at my sweet words and honest emotion.

Karina: "I love you too my brother…always."

She pulls me down against her chest, wrapping herself completely around me. The intensity between us builds as our movements grow more passionate.

Karina: "You mean everything to me…" she breathes out begging for a kiss.

Our connection runs deep, transcending typical bonds as we lose ourselves to this taboo yet beautiful union. The video captures it all - the love, the ecstasy, the family become lovers.

Caught up in the heat of the romantic moment, I set a harder, more urgent pace, my body driving into hers with powerful thrusts. Karina cries out, surprised by the sudden intensity but clearly loving it.

Karina: "Yes yes yes! Just like that! Harder brother"

She meets each deep plunge, welcoming every inch eagerly. The bed frame begins to creak as we come together with primal force, two souls entwined in the ultimate familial embrace. He does it, hitting a sensitive spot inside her, making her shout out in surprise and delight. Karina screams in pain and pleasure.

She arches violently beneath me, hands ripping the sheets as white-hot lightning strikes deep inside her core. Her scream is raw, primal, full of overwhelming sensation.

Karina: "Ah! Ah! Oh my god…oh my god…!" She babbles senselessly, overwhelmed by the intense pleasure-pain where we join.

Her legs wrap around me like iron bands, trying to pull me impossibly deeper into her quaking depths.

I keeps hitting her sensitive spot again and again. Karina feels like shes about to pass out. She cries, moans & screams at the same time.

Her voice cracks completely, barely recognizable as human anymore as she's pushed beyond her limits again and again. She shakes her head wildly side to side, mumbling incoherently as she digs her nails into my back, leaving angry red trails down my skin.

Karina: "B-brother…stop…I…I can't…" she whimpers desperately, her mind going blank.

He grabs her hips tightly and keeps going. "Shh shh, just feel it sister. The video would look more hotter!…" I whisper in her ear, not stopping my rhythm. Karina continues crying more.

Karina's cries grow louder at my words. She relents though, letting me keep moving, knowing I won't stop.

Karina: "Oh god it's too much!"

Her body shakes with each pounding snap of my hips, every fiber trembling with sensation under my intense attentions.

Karina: "The video…yes…yes make it hot, make us look good!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She throws her head back, surrendering completely now, wanting to put on a show for our recording.

Her ragged breathing becomes ragged screams again as I drive into her ruthlessly, her fragile composure shattering completely under the intense treatment. She nods frantically, giving in fully to what I'm doing to her.

Karina: "Cum inside me already, oohhh, I can't anymore. Brother please cum."

Her nails rake fresh lines down my back again, tears streaming down her cheeks as she's overwhelmed by overwhelming waves of sensation.

Feeling me spill hot and deep within her sets Karina off one last time too, her own release crashing through her in intense aftershocks.

Karina: "Yes yes yes! All in me!"

She grinds hard against me as I fill her completely, claiming every inch of her insides. The warmth of my seed seeping out around me only prolongs her climax further.

Karina: "Mmm yes, such a big, thick creampie…" she purrs contentedly, stroking my chest as she catches her breath.

Our bodies remain entwined as we bask in the throes of pleasure, the evidence of our passion seeping out between us.

"I've never felt anything so good, brother…Oh god, I can feel you dripping out of me…"

She grins wickedly, looking down between her legs where a huge, viscous pool of my seed has gathered.

Karina: "You made such a big, gooey mess inside me…" She giggles, swirling her fingers through the thick fluid coating her.

Karina adds "It's dripping down more..it's making such a mess down on me." She bites her lip, delighted by the evidence of our passion still clinging to her. She sighs happily, tracing a finger through the sticky fluid. She tastes the sticky fluid through her fingers and she savors it with a blissful expression.

Karina: "Mmm…delicious." She purrs, licking her finger clean then sucking it into her mouth. She looks up at the camera, still tasting me on her fingers. "All for the video, right brother?" She flashes a naughty grin.

"What else?. The video has to show everyone what a naughty girl you've become. Our relatives or your friends. Haha.." I say with a wicked grin.

Karina laughs, nodding eagerly in agreement

Karina: "Oh yes, let them see how I crave my little brother's seed."

She spreads wider, showing off the glistening evidence of our act for the lens, looking so proud and satisfied being my naughty sister.

Karina: "I hope it gets lots of views…I want everyone to see what you do to me." She adds with a flirtatious giggle.

"Ok, now the main work! We should upload the video!". I tell her to get serious.

In the next hour after we finishing bathing together, we quietly upload the video to various platforms under the username "BrotherLovesSis123". The private links flood my inbox with confirmation emails once they're live.

I sit back, heart racing a bit wondering what kind of reaction the explicit footage of my own sister will generate online. Karina leans over and gives me a sweet, tender kiss on the lips, her fingers intertwining with mine as I finish uploading our first video.

Karina: "You think people will love watching it…like us?" "I hope they will, elder sister."..

By the 6-7 hour mark, the video has already garnered thousands of views, comments pouring in rapidly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My heart pounds seeing the numbers climb higher. This clearly struck a chord with viewers hungry for incestuous content.

Karina squeals excitedly next to me. "15k views, thousands of likes and 200+ comments!" Karina smiles delightfully. "Omg We're famous now, bro…" she giggles.. I check out the comments as my sister kisses my face.

A sea of thumbs up and heart emojis scroll by as I see the view count top 15k. People are going wild for our taboo act.

Comment 1: "Damn this is the best video I’ve seen all week!"

Comment 2: "Brother you treat her so good! Wish my brother was like you!"

Comment 3: "Her face when she cries out…gorgeous. Need more of this!"

Karina: giggling "People really love what we did huh?" She grins, nuzzling against my shoulder as she continues scrolling through the overwhelmingly positive feedback.

As we scroll more: Comment 4: "The way she screams for her brother is so hot!"

Comment 5: "Her tears and cries just make it 10x better! Such a good girl for daddy"

Comment 6: "She's totally addicted to her little's brother's rod! Look at how she soaks up every second!"

Comment 7: "Damn this girl is perfect when she loses control like that"

Comment 8: "I bet she feels so full of her brother's seed…"

More and more comments keep popping up, all raving about Karina's reactions as she came undone beneath me.

Karina's lips trail over my neck and ears as she watches the numbers continue to climb faster than ever as we get more support. "400K people have seen me be your naughty sister already…"

She sounds both shocked and thrilled by this

Karina: "Bro, looks like our plan worked!!"

She pulls back to look at me, eyes wide and sparkling with excitement.. The notification pops up that our OnlyFans and p*rnhub channel have been approved for monetization. Karina squeals again, unable to contain her glee.

Karina: "Oh my gosh! Real money? Finally this is what we actually did it for!!"

She jumps into my lap, wrapping her arms around my neck tightly.

Over the next few days, our subscribers and followers continue to grow exponentially. People are clamoring to see more of our scandalous siblings dynamic play out on screen.

Our bank account balances swell with incoming subscription fees and Pay-Per-View purchases. Karina spends hours dreaming up new ways to push the boundaries further, drawing inspiration from viewers' wild requests left in the comments.

Karina: "Look at all this money we're making…" She fans herself with her hand, still not quite believing the figures rising daily. "This is like a dream, bro…"

We need to keep going and making more videos to get more money every month to survive. As Karina checks on people's demand for more videos, she reads

"Need to see him rail you from behind while you're face down in pillows screaming!"

"Tie her up completely helpless while you absolutely ravage her sensitive spots mercilessly!"

"Spank her raw until she's crying and begging for mercy!"

"Force her to call you 'Daddy' while you dominate her every desire."

There are countless BDSM demands flooding in, hungry for every dark twist of dominance and submission.

I ask Karina, "What do you think? Should we make videos like this? They seem to bring in a lot of money." Karina responds, "I think we should." I ask her if shes ready. Karina replies, "I'm ready for anything, I trust you, brother."

[evie-sturns]

overstimulated - Matt Sturniolo

summary: where you overstimulate matt to the point where he can’t walk anymore.

contains: smut, sub!matt, overstimulation, slight humiliation, mocking, teasing, use of safe word.

————————————🎀————————————-

i don’t even know how matt and i got in this position, but right now i’m sitting on his lap, pinning him down as his erection pokes into my thigh.

“please?” he whispers shakily, his pale cheeks a cherry red.

i trace my fingers along the waistband of his sweatpants, earning a soft whimper from him.

he’s been desperately horny this whole day, constantly clinging to me, but i’ve been too busy.

i slowly rock my hips against the clear bulge on his lap, my clothed cunt rubbing against his sweatpants.

his head tips back, “oh god- don’t do this to me” he sighs

“dont do what?” i grin, reaching my hand down and tracing the outline of his dick through his pants.

“you know- ‘m gonna cum in my pants if you keep doing that” he says barely above a whisper.

“that would be pathetic, wouldn’t it sweetheart?” i say, cupping matt’s jaw and making him look up at me.

he nods, squeezing his eyes shut. i wrap my warm hand around his dick through his pants, squeezing lightly.

“oh my fuck-“ he whines, rutting his hips up into my hands.

he clutches the bedsheets beside him with his veiny hands, trying to resist his movements.

“look at you, all whiny, don’t even have your dick out yet.” i scoff, matt nods frantically,

“-‘m sorry!!” his breathing picks up.

i feel his dick twitch in my hand as i continue to rub the fabric over it, before a loud groan escapes his red lips, raw from being bitten.

and he finishes in his pants.

a large damp patch is obvious right under my hand as matt’s hands cover his embarrassed face.

i let out a small laugh, “poor thing.”

he shakes his head, “i couldn’t help it, i really tried!” he states with a small pout.

“yeah? now your gonna be sensitive for the rest of this.” i say, matt’s eyes widen

“what- more?” he breathes,

“you thought we were done?” i taunt him, pulling my shirt off of my body.

i reach down for his pink shirt, text lays across the fabric saying ‘i need a kiss’.

i tug it off of him, laying it on the matress beside us.

goosebumps travel up his skin from the cold air as he looks up at me with pleading eyes.

i stand up off his lap and tug down my pyjama shorts, leaving me fully revealed for him.

his eyes roam over my body.

“you’re so pretty.” he sighs, clutching the sheets beside him again.

i smile at him before crawling back onto his lap, i look down infront of me, he’s hard again.

i tug down his sweatpants to his thighs, before pausing my movements.

his eyebrows furrow, i just sit comfortably on his lap, waiting for him to start begging.

he fidgets with his short nails as he avoids eye contact,

he’s never usually this submissive, quite the opposite, i guess he’s not used to having to wait.

“please?” he finally speaks up, his voice husky.

“please what.” i reply instantly.

he bucks his hips up slightly, his dick hitting my stomach.

i push his stomach down, placing him back on the bed.

“use your words.” i tell him, staring into his eyes.

he shakes his head, “that’s embarrasing-“ he starts, but i instantly cut him off.

“if it’s so embarrassing then i’ll leave you here, all needy and nobody will be here to get you off, would you like that?”

he shakes his head, “no- no! i just.. ‘just need you!”

“matt that’s not clear enough, tell me exactly what you want from me.” my voice is stern, seeing how far i can push him.

“i want you on- on my dick.” he speaks quietly,

“yeah? then what.” i reply,

“then- then i want you to ride me.” he says, his eyes travelling everywhere but mine.

i run my hand through his hair, “there we go, wasn’t so hard to use your words wasn’t it?”

he nods,

i grab his jaw, “i want you to keep looking at me okay?” my tone is softer now,

i take his length in my hand and pump his cock a few times.

“oh-“ he stammers, maintaining eye contact with me the whole time through his squinted eyes.

his hair sticks to his forehead, and his abs tense.

i run my thumb over his tip, he gasp lightly, gripping the sheets harder.

“you’re doing so well, so good for me.” i praise him, continuing to run my hand up and down his length, squeezing slightly as i go higher up.

“thank- thank you-“ he squeezes out breathlessly.

his legs shake slightly as his orgasm comes on, spurts of white hit his stomach.

his jaw hangs open slightly as he lets out strings of moans.

i don’t waste time to sit up properly, hovering myself above his sensitive tip.

i run his cock through my folds, his eyes spring open. “i can’t! ‘m to sensitive-“ he pleads,

“i know you can do it for me matt,” i whisper with a warm smile.

he shakes his head, his hands find their way to my bare hips, he grips tightly for dear life.

i slowly sink down onto his dick, a strained groan escapes his lips as he digs his finger nails into the plush of my skin.

“i’m gonna cum too soon, that’s- that’s embarrassing” he stammers, squirming slightly on the mattress.

“that’s okay, you’re okay matt” i assure him through sharp breathes as i continue to bounce on his cock.

the sound of skin slapping along with matt’s strangled whimpers fill the room, his eyes are scrunched shut and his brunette locks are messily laid across his flushed face.

my pace picks up, matt sinks his top teeth into his bottom lip in a desperate attempt to silence his pathetic noises.

“so close already? you already came twice tonight.” i scoff, which tips matt over the edge

his legs judder as his back arches off the bed.

he frantically grips the pillows beside him as he finishes, his warm seed coating my insides.

i don’t stop riding him, chasing my own orgasm.

he winces with pained moans, “too much! too much-“ his voice cracks.

i don’t stop, matt knows we have a safe word.

he shifts himself below me, his arms twisting as he tries to squirm under me.

“s-stop- stop i’m too- too sensitive!” he squeezes out.

i shake my head, strings of groans exiting my mouth as i clench around him, signalling my upcoming orgasm.

“red- red” the safe word falls from his mouth, making my heart skip a beat.

i instantly pull off of him, my juices coating his dick, even dripping onto his pelvis.

i look at matt, a few tears roll down his cheeks.

my eyes widen, “hey- hey don’t cry, i’m sorry sweetheart are you okay?” i ask, flopping down ontop of him and wrapping my arms around him.

“no- i’m fine just intense, i-i’m not sad or anything” he says shakily with a small laugh.

“i’m sorry baby.” i say, squeezing his waist tight as i hug him.

“don’t apologise- tha-that was so hot.” he mutters.

i hover above his tear stained face, i reach my hands down and wipe away his tears.

“i promise i’m not crying- just sensitive.” he laughs, i giggle in response before standing up off of him.

i look down at him on the bed,

what a sight.

i clench my thighs together as i look down at him, he’s flopped messily across the matress, his arms and legs sprawled out different directions.

his face is a deep red, and his hair is stuck to his sweaty face. his lips are raw and bright red,

and finally he’s coated in his release, white streaks painted across his tummy and chest.

i just admire him, “jesus fuck- matt you don’t understand what you’re doing to me right now.” i whisper

he smiles in response,

“can- can i please take a polaroid of you?” i ask shyly, “just for me to keep.” i follow up.

he grins with an eyebrow quirk, “finnneee…”

i clap before running over to my closet and pulling out my polaroid camera,

i stand at the edge of the bed, matt gives me a tired smile and thumbs up, i snap the picture.

“thank you-“ i say with a small laugh, he rolls his eyes with a smirk.

“cmon, let’s get you nice and cleaned up.” i say to matt,

he nods with a small hum, followed by a massive yawn,

“you’re so tired sweetheart.” i laugh,

“how could i not beee..” he whines,

“i’m just teasing you.” i smile, grabbing his hand and tugging him up

he stands up on his feet before stumbling over, his legs basically jelly.

he flops backwards onto the bed,

“can you seriously not stand up straight.” i ask with a giggle.

“no- no i can!” he protests, heaving himself back up off the bed, but his shaky legs instantly give out.

i erupt into laughter,

“oh my god!! i’m gonna use that forever! imagine me telling people that i took away matt sturniolos ability to walk”

he covers his face with his hands as he laughs uncontrollably with me,

“you’re so insanely stupid” he giggles,

“tell that to me when you can stand up!!”

-

@downbad4reid @sturniolo04 @similartokayyz @sturnsintrouble @ilovemattsturn @raysmayhem-72 @75sturn @sturniol0s @secret-sturniolo @hfkeclnendmwodne @sturniolosass @gxldenlush @stonermattsgf @101sara @beccaluvschris @oliviasturniolo21 @imwetforyourmom @tylerstacobell @sunsetsturniolos @aliceloveschris

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[shomatoriashi]

02/15/25; 08:40pm

{ 18+ drabbles / headcanons }

[ when you have them whimpering with need for you ]

featuring: sylus, zayne, xavier, rafayel, caleb

[ minors don’t interact; by choosing to interact with this content, you have consented to viewing something n-fw despite the warnings. ]

the palms of your hands were planted against his broad chest, the sounds of your copulation echoing throughout the room. you were riding sylus, eagerly bouncing up and down his cock while doing your best to maintain a steady pace. with your back arched, you continue to move against him, noticing the way his eyes had darkened considerably in response to your slick heat sheathing him completely, unable to focus on anything that wasn’t youyouyouyouyou-

biting down on your bottom lip, sylus lets out a harsh gasp of your name each time you slowly drag your hips across him, making his cock slide out of you while leaving only his tip connected to you before inevitably slamming down on him.

“you know… i don’t get many chances to dominate you like this, sy.” sylus frowns in response to your words, feeling your hips slow down its pace considerably before stopping completely. a flash of annoyance was seen in his gaze, “why’d you stop, sweetie?”

a playful grin spreads across your features when you lean in to give him a gentle kiss.

one kiss-

two kisses-

three kisses-

each one chaste; no heavier than dew as such featherlight kisses causes the onychinus leader to let out a frustrated groan in response. “what do you want from me, kitten?”

you smile against his lips, placing yet another kiss on them while muttering, “i want you to beg for me.”

“you-“ sylus’s words were cut off when you slowly lift yourself off of him, ready to slide his cock completely out of you when you were stopped by his powerful grip on your waist.

“wait, sweetheart, don’t-“ he lets out a rasp of your name, “please, i need you. come back, come back down on me and show me what heaven is like. only you can…!”

heat blossoms across your veins, making you bite down on your bottom lip when you brought yourself back down on his cock. sylus continues to plead and beg for you to never stop, further accentuating your pleasure as you basked in his whimpers of your name.

“honey, you can’t be serious about this.”

“oh but i am serious. i want you to fall apart for me, dr. zayne. and i’ll do everything in my power to ensure it.”

you had your boyfriend right where you wanted him, settled back in his chair with you kneeling before him beneath his desk. your blouse had been carelessly tossed aside mere minutes ago along with the lace material of your bra.

your heaving breasts were free for his eyes to see, with his erection carefully placed between them. “you always work so hard, so it’s about time i treated you to something nice.”

your name comes out in stuttered breaths the moment you place his cock between your breasts. you end up pushing them together, stroking his cock with your smooth skin while placing the tip of his erection inside of your mouth. you were dimly aware of his low gasps and groans of your name, his hands gripping at the armrests while struggling to keep his voice down.

from outside of his office were the sounds of nurses making their rounds and the technicians delivering all the medications, and they were all clueless as to what sinful things were going on behind the closed office doors of akso hospital’s top cardiac surgeon.

here you were, giving him what had to be the best tit job of his life, with your tongue eagerly lapping up all he had to offer each time the droplets of his precum escapes from the tip of his cock. all too eager to have the doctor fall apart for you, you take him even deeper into your mouth while further sliding down his cock against your breasts, basking in his cute expressions and needy moans of your name.

it was your boyfriend’s idea to take you in this new position, with your legs spread out completely form him as your head was angled awkwardly against the sheets of your shared bed.

your moans were muffled when you bury your face within the mattress, feeling xavier pressing your body further down the bed when he kneels beside you. lifting up one of your legs, he tosses it over his broad shoulder, teasing your entrance with the tip of his cock before slowly pushing inside of you.

“ngh…!” while your cunt was taking in every inch xavier had to offer, you felt the moisture steadily leaking out of you at the sounds of his sexy grunts. he lets out a moan of your name, trembling all while sheathing himself into you.

with this new position, you felt the tip of his cock hitting a new area that was much deeper than you expected, causing your moans to echo across your shared bedroom as xavier works on thrusting himself in and out of you.

“the way i’m curved to fit you in this new position… fuck, i feel every inch of you gripping me, starlight.” you were too far gone to voice your pleasure as eloquently as xavier, choosing instead to let out a series of soft mewls as your breasts eagerly bounce in tune to xavier’s movements.

you were both getting drunk off of the pleasure, unable to stop for even a moment even when you had both reached your respective climaxes-

you chose instead to partake in your respective addictions, becoming a tangle of limbs as you basked in the pleasure that surrounds you.

“hehe, your moans sound so cute as i’m bouncing up and down your cock, rafayel.”

“s-shut up…”

even when your boyfriend was pouting at you, the blush on his cheeks remained. he lays back against the porcelain tub, not even caring that your movements were making copious amounts of water spill over the edges.

perhaps you were becoming a bit too naughty when it came to your boyfriend, always feeling so needy for him during moments where he wished to spoil and take care of you. a simple hot bath had suddenly turned into you sucking his cock to full hardness from beneath the lukewarm waters before riding him with a desperation.

and despite how rafayel turned shy at your teasing words-

the way he guides your hips up and down his shaft was more than enough proof that he didn’t mind these turn of events at all. basking in the way his handsome face was twisted with pleasure, you braced yourself on his slender shoulders and speed up your movements, wanting nothing more than to have your beloved lemurian gasping and needy for you.

“o-oh fuck-“ with one last push, you still your hips and let out a content purr of his name, feeling his cock twitching inside of you, pumping his seed within your heat before slumping back against the tub.

your respective breathing was heard around the bathroom, and you press a lingering kiss against his shoulder before slowly attempting to remove yourself from him-

only to be stopped by a slow whine of your name and the sensation of his hands on your wrist. “n-no, don’t leave me. i still need you…” you were about to say something, only to let out a low moan when he suddenly grows inside of you, pressing you back into him as you continue to bounce up and down his cock, knowing that you had now made rafayel insatiable for you.

you eagerly take caleb’s cock into your mouth, stroking whatever couldn’t fit with your hands. practically drooling on his cock, you use the moisture of your saliva as lubricant all while basking in his groans of your name.

his hands delved themselves into your hair, guiding your cock back and forth on his cock. while he controls your every movement, you dart your tongue out, tracing at the veins that pulsate against his shaft.

that was what caleb finally lose control when he grips at your head with both hands, keeping your head still while ramming his cock in and out of your mouth. your mind had gone hazy with pleasure, feeling the moisture of your arousal stain at your panties as he fucks your face with his cock.

“fuck fuck fuck!” he continues to pound his cock in and out of your mouth, making tears dot your vision as you willingly take him in over and over again. never before had caleb been so aggressive with you, truly using your body for his own pleasure-

and that fact turned you on immensely.

before the familiar twitch could happen, caleb forces himself to remove his cock from your hot and wet mouth, deep magenta eyes going dark when he pushes back your form to the bed.

he spreads your legs momentarily, tracing his wet cock against your pussy lips before sliding into you, letting out a shuddering breath of your name. “oh fuck, you feel so good…! you feel too fucking good, baby…!”

words failed you, rendering you unable to voice how good caleb was making you feel. each time he slides his cock out of you before slamming back inside made you feel so achingly full of him. at the pace he was setting, it wouldn’t be long until you spilled yourself on his cock, drenching him completely with your love juices.

as if reading your mind, caleb smiles down at you, his hips pumping his cock within your slick at a faster pace while caressing at your cheek with the back of his hand, “despite how much i enjoyed having your mouth surrounding me, nothing quite tops the feeling of your cunt wrapped so desperately around me, baby.”

end notes: i got thirsty again, but i also wanted to make this post to announce my semi-hiatus. my creativity has been so low, and i want to try and write longer stories / one shots someday-

but in order to do that, i gotta take a break from writing ｡ﾟ(TヮT)ﾟ｡ so please do wait for my return, or when my inspiration does come back ♡ as always, thank you so much for giving my stories a chance to begin with ♡

major edit: changed main banner at 11:45pm

all stories are written by rei; please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works!!