#so that’s even worse but it can’t be helped | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

twinksrepository · 2 days ago

Text

A shower for two

Rating: 18+

Pairing: Lucifer X F!Reader

CW: Smut, sweaty, teasing, Fingering, delayed orgasm, multiple orgasms, implied rough sex, Shower sex, implied creampie, hickies.

Word count: Roughly 2.7K

A/N: You get back from a run and almost run right into Lucifer, who offers to join you for a shower before joining him for a meal.

I bet you don't need much to know what premium picture inspired this one.

Images belong to Solmare.

Jogging up the stairs to the house you stop for a moment, using the bottom of your shirt to dry some of the sweat on your face while you try to catch your breath. Pacing a little and using the cool air of the evening to help slow your racing heart before heading inside.

A few slow steps as you pulled your earbuds out heading towards your room to grab a set of clean clothes. You’re drenched from your run and the idea of a hot shower sounds amazing against your tired muscles. Turning down the hallway and almost bumping into Lucifer. By almost, you mean if he wasn’t more aware you would have planted your head against his chest since you were looking downward.

“Oh, sorry.” Giving a small laugh that shows just how out of breath you still are as you step back.

A whisper of your name before you get one of those rare soft Lucifer smiles. “Just getting back?”

Nodding and wiping the side of your face feeling a few beads of liquid drip downward, you are not cooling down at all. “How about you? I thought you had some work to do back at RAD?”

“Done. It didn’t take me as long as I expected.” You flinch a little when he reaches out to tuck the strand of hair that always seems to fall in front of your face back behind your ear. “Did you eat already?”

“No.” You shake your head while answering him. “I went for a run almost as soon as I got back, I told the others not to save me any dinner.” It would have been a fight to keep a single plate from Beel even if you had wanted something put aside. “I figured after my shower I’d just grab a sandwich or something.”

“Ah.” Nodding at your logic with the hint of a smile, you can’t help but feel the fluttering of your stomach as your cheeks start to burn while you flush for a different reason. “I picked up a few premade meals on my way home, I expected to miss whatever had been made. Would you care to join me in my room?”

The fluttering in your stomach grows worse and you feel your face split into a wide grin. “I’d love to. I just need a shower and I’ll meet you there.” Starting to move past him since you don’t want to take too much longer knowing you have the chance to spend a few uninterrupted hours with him. A gloved hand stops you in your tracks placed against the center of your chest. “Lucifer?” Tilting your head to the side unsure of the reason for the brief flash of pink across his nose.

“Perhaps, I’ll join you.” Your stomach clenches and your heart starts to race once more as you bite your lip before nodding. “I’ll see you in my bathroom.” If you thought you had been blushing before your face is an inferno now, giving him a soft acknowledgment before he leaves you in the hallway.

Darting to your room with your face ablaze your heart beating a tempo that has you hearing the pumping of the blood inside your veins in your ears. You feel like you’re on a secret mission or something as you check the corners of the hallways, not wanting to be caught by any of the brothers as you make your way toward the Avatar of Pride’s room. Your clothes are pressed tightly to your chest, well not that tightly so you don’t cover them in sweat.

A short knock and you’re tugged through the crack in the door, your face firmly planted in his chest before you hear the lock being engaged. “Um. It’s just a shower Lucifer.” You find yourself muttering into his chest.

“I prefer when our time isn’t interrupted by the antics of my brothers.” His hands slid down over your arms, the bare skin of his palms raising goosebumps in their wake. You’d arrived as he was starting to undress himself, he’s down to his pants and black shirt. Glancing up you turn your head to the side to avoid his lips connecting with your skin.

“Lucifer, I’m sweaty and gross.” You don’t like denying him the chance to kiss you, it’s one of your favorite things but the idea of making out while you can smell your sweaty body doesn’t help put you in the mood.

“You’re covered in sweat when you’re tied to my bed and under me, screaming for me to break you. When I let you scream anyway.” It’s such a deadpan delivery that you jump in his hold, your nose scrunched up because you can’t really argue with his logic.

“It’s just different ok!” A waiver in your voice that makes you sound so unsure of yourself, thankfully the demon takes pity on you and steps away. Or he noticed the low whine of your embarrassment. A few strides toward his closet as he keeps removing his clothes—a slight distraction as those painted nails work the buttons of his shirt loose.

“You know your way to the bathroom.” Jumping again, the inferno burning on your face once more, your ears burning just as much if not more than your cheeks. Slightly embarrassed at being caught watching him, if you had paused a little longer you would have caught the swell of his chest. Or the smirk on his face.

Leaving your clean clothes on the counter near the vanity, stopping to let out a soft snort at the flickering lights lining the bathtub edge against the wall. “Did you seriously light candles in here?” Calling out while you start to peel your sticky clothes from your skin, wincing at the size of the wet patch on the fabric. Confirmation of a good workout at least.

“I see my attempt at being romantic is once more wasted on you.” Another flinch when his deep voice whispers next to your ear, unable to see him because of your shirt sticking to you as you try to pull it over your head. “Here.” A hint of amusement as his hands slid under the stuck garment to help divulge you of the fabric.

“Not wasted.” Laughing as your head pops out of the opening, licking your lips at the shifting of the muscles of his arms as he tosses the sodden fabric to join when you had left your pants in the corner. “I do appreciate when you show that side of you, but between that and saying how you picked up a few premade meals.” Raking your eyes over his body, noticing the black towel wrapped around his hips. “I might be a little suspicious and starting to think you planned this.”

A deep chuckle and a grin your only answer as he steps around you to work the knobs for the shower and the oversized raindrop showerhead before snapping the towel from his hips. A look sent over his shoulder at you as he slips under the spray and your hands move a lot faster to remove the rest of your clothes to join him.

The first few drops of water that hit your skin are just the right temperature as you step in behind him, trying to keep your eyes from trailing downward to the fine muscles of his lower back. And lower. The streams of water along his well-defined body don’t help with the way the water forms trails that converge in just the right spot.

Neither does him trailing his fingers through his wet hair and slicking it back from his forehead. You swallow, an action he doesn’t miss. “I believe you were the one who needed the shower.”

“I swear you’re trying to see if you can make me combust.” Muttering as the fire on your cheeks is hot enough you’re sure it has to be causing steam to rise from your skin. Steeping in front of him to let the spray hit you directly, your hands rubbing at your face as the water streamed down your skin.

“If I did that who would keep me company?” He’s teasing you still but any annoyance you might feel is brushed aside by the feel of his fingers along your scalp.

“Diavolo.” You tease right back, laughing as he swatted at your ass from dropping the demon prince’s name.

“That brazen attitude of yours is going to get you in trouble.”

“Trouble that involves punishment from you?” Your quip has both of you laughing, and you lean back letting Lucifer lather your hair. It’s an uncommon occurrence that you would have never expected from him when you first came to the Devildom. If you’re being honest up until your last night as a member of the exchange program the first time you would have never pictured it. His love language is definitely more along the lines of physical touch and acts of service. When he doesn’t have you tied down and exhausted anyway.

“Rinse.” A single command and you step back fully under the spray and the moment you no longer felt any suds along your hair you turn to pull Lucifer under the spray with you. Tilting yourself to kiss the underside of his chin while the water pounded into both of you.

“Thank you handsome.”

“You know one is never enough to satisfy me.” His arms wrapping around you and you find your hands reaching up to tangle in his damp locks as he connects your lips. There’s no preamble to him sliding his tongue into your mouth, you see no reason no deny letting him have control and doing whatever he wants. Moaning as his tongue coils along yours in a way that makes you feel weak in the knees and has your core clenching. It doesn’t take long for the kiss to become heated and there’s no mistaking the firm length trapped between your bodies.

“What happened to being sweaty and gross? We’ve only washed your hair.” His voice has that edge to it that lets you know he’s planning to absolutely fuck your brains out tonight. You’re going to be sore tomorrow that’s for sure, and internally you’re giddy. More than happy to be a pillow princess for him unless he wants you to do something specific.

“I’m easily distracted.” Laughing against the seam of his mouth. “You know that.” Keeping an arm around his neck as you lean back a small amount, using your finger to toy with the longer portion of his bangs. Curling the strands around your index finger and watching the light shine through the graying sections. Giving him a wink. “Since you are my favorite distraction.”

Shaking his head with a soft smirk in place. “I would never refer to you as a distraction, though you are almost as much trouble as my brothers.”

“Only almost?” You’re well aware of the feeling of his fingers sliding down your back, the tips of his fingers gracing every vertebrae as they trail downward.

“You’re more fun to punish.” Giving your butt a squeeze and leaning forward so he can nip the shell of your ear. “Was earlier just a ploy to rile me up, refusing to kiss me and make me wait?” His voice is low with a husk to it, that ember in your core burning a little hotter.

Honestly, that wasn’t what you had been aiming for but the way he sounds, and the twitching of his cock between your bodies. Well. “Of course it was.” If he catches your lie he ignores it, but the smirk he’s sporting has your core throbbing. “Haven’t you heard good things come to those who wait?”

“You’re lucky I have patience then.” Moving his head to catch your lips while his hands slide down to you grip your ass and lift you, turning the two of you until you feel the slick tiles against your back. As his tongue slides against yours, you give your hips a roll seeking some friction along his body. “Unlike you it seems.”

“I can’t help it, you’re additive Lucifer.” You know he has a firm grip on you, reaching one hand down to wrap your fingers around his length. “And I like being stuffed.” Pumping his shaft while mouthing at his neck.

He doesn’t say anything more, shifting your body in his hold and angeling his hips to better align your bodies. You don’t need him to speak as you use your fingers to slide his cock between your folds, smearing the head with the fluid seeping from your core. The mist from the spray hitting his back clings to both of you, looking at his crimson orbs you lick your lips.

You can feel your heart pounding inside your chest as you both maintain eye contact, staring into those red eyes that shine with adoration certain you have a similar look within your eyes. Gasping as in a single movement Lucifer buries his length in your slick walls, your hands gripping his shoulders as you moan long and low against his neck.

“Hold on.” Groaning through gritted teeth as he starts to thrust into you, the force driving your back hard against the tiles of the shower. Sliding your hands along his shoulders to the back of his neck, intertwining your fingers while your neck arches the crown of your head sliding along the tiles. Your legs rising to wrap around his waist, hooking your feet together and using them to push his hips harder against your body.

His breathing turns ragged in no time, panting as his hips piston in and out of you at a break neck speed. “Lucifer!” You’re no better off, squeezing your elbows together to try and steady yourself against his chest. The steady wet snap and the stretch of your walls has you approaching your edge quickly.

“I know.” There’s a flush on his cheeks that has nothing to do with the hot water still beating against his skin. Dropping his forehead against yours his damp exhale mingles with your own heated breath. “Cum for me.” With the tiles against your back, Lucifer doesn’t need to keep both of his hands on your ass. Trailing one hand upward along your side to brush his long digits against your ribs.

Sliding your fingers along his neck to tilt his head upwards so you can close the distance and press your lips against his. Your back arches when he angles his hips just enough to push you over that edge, a shuttering gasp into his mouth as your walls clamp around him like a vice forcing his movement to still.

Keeping his touch light, Lucifer trails his fingers along your side breathing deeply to regain control of his cock to stop himself from spilling inside of you. He’ll stuff you full of his cum several times before the night is over, but each time will be on his terms. Waiting for the spamming of your core to slow before lowering your legs to the floor but keeping a hand on your hip.

You’re glad for his steadying hand, one of your arms wrapped around his neck as you lean against his shoulder. With the slick surface of the tub and how rubbery your legs feel you seriously doubt if you could have stood on your own right now. “That was a damn good cool down.” Trying to joke with him while you catch your breath.

“Cool down?” A hint of disbelief in his voice as he guides you under the spray once more. “I’d say your run was your stretch for what I have planned for the rest of the night.” Grabbing the smaller bottle of your shower gel that seems to have a permanent place in his bathroom and starting to work at cleaning your skin.

“Does that mean you aren’t going to feed me like you promised?”

It’s silent except for the falling water for a few moments before Lucifer burst out laughing, kissing the corner of your mouth before he goes back to cleaning your skin. “I did invite you to share a meal with me.” Working along your stomach he gives you a look. “After that meal, I plan to ruin you.”

“No visible marks.” A small plea that gets another chuckle from him.

“I’ll consider the request.”

The next morning when you head into the dining room for breakfast there’s no denying the marks along your neck and jaw. Or avoiding Asmo asking why he wasn’t invited to join the two of you based on the noises he heard when he walked by.

Back to Masterlist

#obey me fanfic #obey me x reader #obey me nightbringer #obey me smut #obey me lucifer #obey me luci x reader #lucifer x reader #lucifer x mc #obey me shall we date #twink writes #lucifer obey me #obey me luci x mc #obey me lucifer smut #obey me lucifer x reader #obey me lucifer x reader smut #obey me reader smut #obey me lucifer x you #lucifer smut #lucifer om

196 notes · View notes

yes-these-obsessions-are-healthy · 3 days ago

Text

The more I sit on it, the more obvious and blatant it is that Veilguard transferred over so many tidbits from Mass Effect over to Dragon Age IP (which is a BAD thing, because I loved Dragon Age in part because it did not play or function like Mass Effect). There is a reason why I never gave much of a damn about my Shepherds in Mass Effect. They were already an accomplished soldier of the Alliance. There is no deviation from that. All you can do is choose whether to be a nice or mean soldier in all three games. Your “background” chosen in ME 1 plays no huge part in how the world interacts with you because you are ultimately defined by two things that remain universal among all players: You are human, and you are a soldier.

That is how Rook is. You are a Chaotic Good that was being held back by your superiors because you went Top Gun on a mission + you are most definitely going to help Varric out because you’re best friends. The core of your personality is set in stone at the start of the game. Because you work with Varric you can’t be mean or evil because he wouldn’t want to work with such a person, I suppose. Contrast this with the Hero of Fereldan who can be an absolute bastard because the reason for being recruited by Duncan actually ties to their racial/class background and demonstrates how Hero =/= Good. This is scaled back a lot with the Inquisitor but there is still dialogue highlighting your race/class choice and some ruthless decisions (sacrificing the Chargers, letting Celene die).

Rook operates as an unholy melding of the Mass Effect Shepard circumstances and an even worsely executed Hawke (Hawke could at least be ruthless and callous to people and spit on their companions’ feelings with the utmost venom), and it creates this hollow avatar that is just.. ineffectually inoffensive. They’re a good guy who is doing the good thing for good reasons. No nuance, no friction, no doubts or opportunities to take on a “by any means necessary, fuck everyone’s feelings” or “actually we should burn this whole world down, I’m kind of agreeing with Solas here” (you were able to side with Meredith in DA2 for God’s sake). Even IF data shows that people don’t pick evil/mean dialogue options much of the time, most people want that opportunity for certain opportunities. Maybe they dislike a particular NPC, maybe they really do want to do a bastard run, maybe they want to RP a character who is an asshole and becomes good over the course of the game’s events or vice versa. Why deny us those opportunities?

Rook's backgrounds make no sense or gatekeeping is good, actually

It's didn't sit well with me ever since bioware admitted that all 6 background for Rook can be played by any race you choose

Looking back at Origins it's clear why most of the backgrounds were race-specific. Not only it provided a better understanding of the separate cultures (you wouldn't really understand what dwarfs are about if you were able to play as a surface dwarf commoner) it also established the rules of the world (elves are opressed, you can't become a queen/king cuz the nobles will riot, humans colonize them and inforce their religion and rules on everyone, dwarfs are considered weird)

Now, looking at the veilguard, I can't help but ask:

How can a fully grown dalish with vallaslin be a crow? They buy slaves as a way to get more assassins, usually elves, children, so they could easier ruin their psyche. why the hell would a dalish stand for it?

How can a qunari be a Gray Warden? Wardens don't discriminate, sure, but this far, we haven't even heard of a qunari warden. Rook should be a legend, Rook should be questioned at actually being a warden by NPCs, OR sit in some Warden outpost and being studied by their mages, because no one actually knows how Blight and joining might work with Kossith body instead of running around with Varric.

Veiljumpers were organized by dalish, right? Then why in the world would a human be allowed to join? How and why did they change their minds to accept literally anyone, even if it's a potential threat/thief(Morrigan)/zealot/etc..?

How can a dwarf, someone who isn't even connected to the fade be a Veiljumper?

How can a dwarf be a part of the Mourn Watch? A Mortalitasi, an exclusively MAGE order? What can they even do?? Preform a non magical mummifications with herbs and salts like Egyptians did? Sweep the mausoleum? Be some sort of a funeral organizer/lawyer/genealogist? That could've been really interesting if only the game actually bothered to say anything about it. It did not

"Well it's up to your headcanons!" then why make the backgrounds in the first place??? They don't matter anyway!

I mean, obviously it was just a way to promote the game to older fans. Look, the backstories! The thing you've been craving for is back in game! Only they forgot what actually made them so great. The most important part. They mattered, they created a basis for my character. They gave them families, connections. They changed the way my character is perceived (elves in general) and what they can do plotwise (become a monarch/paragon).

I don't fucking care if 3-5 NPCs might have some additional dialogues for me, cuz they don't matter anyway. I don't even know these people, i never met them before, my character did, but I didn't. And now I don't care enough to know. like, i'm playing as a mourn watcher, but before going to Nevarra i barely knew anything about them, and what i know now is still rather surface level shit

Let alone the fact that all the backgrounds are practically the same. You pissed off some influencial people by doing good and was send away. Bravo.

........if this post gets one like I'm writing my own ideas for DA4 protagonist's backgrounds

#datv critical

552 notes · View notes

loganhowlettshousewife · 7 hours ago

Note

request for a logan x reader where logan comforts the reader after they come home from a mission all bloodied up? i see a lot of reader comforting logan fics but im curious to see how itd be the other way round :)

me? responding to a request like three weeks later? it's more likely than you think. also sorry it's so short. originally it turned into smut but i didn't know if you'd want that given the request was for hurt/comfort. (if you guys want i can publish the alternate smut version of this fic too).

solace

summary: you come home from a mission gone wrong and logan helps you through it.

warnings: death (offscreen), blood, non-sexual intimacy, nudity, reader has hair, pet names (logan canonically calls his love interests "darlin'" and this is me pushing that agenda), english is not my first language so please do not be rude

word count: 1004

you’re splattered in blood and grime, grey ash streaking your skin from the fire created by a little boy lashing out at the world. he had set his own house on fire, his parents dying in the most brutal of ways, burned alive.

“oh princess, c’mere,” logan pulls you into his arms. you’re in too much shock to argue, letting him manoeuvre you like a doll.

you don’t like going on missions, don’t like hurting people. you’re only ever sent on the easy ones, the non-violent ones, where you try to convince mutant kids to join the school. you’re good at talking to children, at getting them to admit their fears to you, at soothing their worries. but even the easy missions don’t always go well.

charles could sense that this particular child was powerful, and far worse than that, he was angry. he’d lashed out when he’d seen you, screamed in anger when his parents expressed a desire for him to go to xavier’s school, to learn to control himself before he came back home again. his parents were frightened too, scared of what might happen if things continued the way they were.

they’d all died in the explosion of his power.

he was so scared. he never meant to hurt anyone, you could see it in his eyes when the fire continued to burn despite him letting go. it was out of control, no longer a part of him that he could control like an extra limb, but something with a mind of its own.

it reminds you of yourself when you’d first discovered your abilities, scared and alienated from the rest of the world, from the non-mutants around you. you see yourself in every kid you save, and in every kid you lose.

you stay in logan’s arms for a long while, the only sound in the room his steady breathing contrasting with your ragged, choked out sobs. his chest rises steadily against yours, a rhythm that you try to imitate but you can’t, and with every failed inhale you feel your frustration grow, your panic increase.

he picks you up easily, and you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist, clutching onto him so as not to fall. he would never drop you, you know that, but it’s always a slight surprise when you’re not expecting him to lift you from the ground.

he leads you to the bathroom where he helps you strip out of your clothes, so gentle with your shaking form. his hands trace each new sliver of skin revealed to him, keeping a firm pressure on you always, grounding you, reminding you of where you are. not in a burning house watching a child’s corpse go pitch black from the flames, but in the house that logan bought the two of you, not too far from the school but enough to give the two of you privacy.

in the shower, the blood rinses off your skin, pink rivulets swirling down the drain. yet you can still feel it, thick and sticky and warm. you want to scrub at your skin until its red and blistering, until you have to grow a new layer of skin, a fresh one that hasn’t been touched by death.

logan doesn’t let you. he catches your hand and whispers, “let me take care of you, darlin’.”

you lean into his bare chest and he massages shampoo into the roots of your hair, over your scalp until it foams, and then rinses it away. he runs your conditioner - the one he always claims is too expensive and why would you spend so much on hair products - through your hair, tugging gently at the strands when he notices you disappearing into your mind.

afterwards he pats you dry, and kisses every inch of your skin, reverent, on his knees before you. and then he rises to his feet and finally presses his lips to yours, soft and intimate, not rushed or heated, just reassurance that he’s here, he’s got you, and he’s not going anywhere.

“do you want to talk about it?” he asks eventually.

you shake your head, “he was just a kid.”

“i know,” logan says, rubbing his large, rough hands over your arms, up and down, “but it’s not your fault, you know that. you can’t control what other people do. d’you blame storm for what happened?”

“no!” you exclaim, eyes wide at the implication that one of your best friends could have caused the boys death.

“but she was on the mission with you,” logan comments, and you shake your head, “if you don’t blame her, you can’t blame yourself. neither of you knew, you couldn’t’ve stopped it.”

“maybe,” you say. you don’t really believe it, but logan knows it’ll take you time to get back to your usual happy self, and he’s fine with staying by your side, whispering praise and reassurance until you start to believe him again.

afterwards, he puts on your favourite movie. he spends the whole time making fun of the characters and their decisions, grumbling about how movies will base their entire plot progression on actions no real, rational person would ever do, until you giggle wetly and slap him in the arm, telling him to shut up and let you watch the film.

you lean back into the circle of his arms and he holds you tight, occasionally wiping stray tears that run down your cheeks. there’s less tension in your muscles now, but you’re not quite relaxed, so he shuffles the two of you around until he can massage your shoulders and back.

you moan at the feeling, sinking into the sensation of his large hands working at the knots, until you’re putty for him. you feel warm and fuzzy by the time his hands start to stray down, massaging your thighs.

“feelin’ better?” he asks as the end credits roll, pressing a kiss to your hair.

“yeah,” you sigh, “thank you for taking care of me.”

100 notes · View notes

daisymbin · 10 hours ago

Text

[13:38] - jeon wonwoo

check out my masterlist!

you’re half-sure the earth might just swallow you whole.

“i’m so sorry, wonwoo,” you stutter, holding up the shattered remains of his chrome hearts glasses with trembling hands. “i didn’t see them there. i should have-”

“hey, it’s okay,” he says, a hint of laughter in his voice. as your good friend of several years, he’s always been patient and kind, but this… this feels like too much. he kneels down beside you, eyeing the poor, mangled frames as if they’ve merely gotten a little dusty. “really.”

but his easygoing reassurance only makes you feel worse. you try not to cry as you pick up the broken pieces from the chair you’d carelessly plopped down onto. he’s worn those glasses every day for as long as you’ve known him, and now they’re… well, ruined.

“no, it’s not okay,” you protest, your voice barely above a whisper, stress coursing through your veins. “i’ll pay for a new pair." you lightly tugged on wonwoo's wrist, "let's go now."

wonwoo stops you & laughs at that, a sound so warm and gentle that it only deepens your guilt; though he meant no harm. he simply thought you were so cute. “i can get a new pair myself,” he jokes, taking the damaged frames from you. “but it’s sweet of you to offer.”

you glance up at him, feeling your face grow hotter by the second. how is he still smiling? how is he not even a little bit annoyed? anyone else would be fuming, but here he is, your easygoing friend, his grin as soft as ever, his eyes crinkling with mirth.

“you really don’t have to buy me a new pair,” he continues, voice low. “i’ve been meaning to get my prescription updated anyway.”

“but still,” you insist, “i broke your glasses. let me make it up to you.”

he pauses, tilting his head as if considering something. then his smile shifts, becoming just the slightest bit mischievous. “okay, how about this?” he proposes. “you owe me a date.”

you stare at him, feeling your face heat up even more. “a date?”

“yup.” his smile remains as his eyes twinkle with something unreadable, and he shrugs. “unless you’re not interested,” he teases, but there’s a hint of hopefulness in his tone, almost as if he knows what your answer is going to be.

your stomach flips, and you can’t help the shy smile that tugs at your lips. “no no no," you panic, "i… i think that’s fair.” you answer softly.

“good.” wonwoo stands up, offering you his hand. “let’s call it even then, yeah?”

you take his hand, his touch warm and firm in yours. and just like that, his broken glasses seem astoundingly insignificant compared to the fluttering feeling in your chest.

109 notes · View notes

glade-constellation · 3 days ago

Text

I literally can’t even bring myself to watch the newest LAES episode because I am so disappointed in Lunar. Like, the moment I read the episode name, I knew what was going to happen. I knew what Lunar was about to do. And I’m just, done.

Logically, I understand why. I understand Lunar as a character, I understand his motives. I used to follow his story just as closely as Eclipse’s, because they were my two favorite characters. I understand why.

But emotionally, I’m still beyond frustrated with him. Just, imagine. Someone who used to be a part of your family has died. You don’t feel close to him, but your siblings were, and they are grieving. Instead of helping in any way at all, you undermine their feelings about him, and then sit and watch Nutella commercials day in and day out. Then your current worst enemy shows up and offers to train you in the very same thing that just killed your ex-brother. And you agree.

The amount of inconsideration Lunar has is insane. I keep imagining Sun and Earth learning about this and just, losing it, because they just lost Nexus to this exact same thing. NSP is what lead to his eventual death, and here Lunar is learning how to use it. Remember how Earth reacted to seeing Lunar kill Eclipse? It’s going to be that, but ten times worse. I can’t even begin to think of how Sun is going to react. Lunar has absolutely no regard for anyone’s feelings or opinions anymore, and he is digging his own grave for it. Because you can’t tell me what he just did won’t have devastating long term effects.

#🌟 Ten Talks #tsams #sams #laes #the sun and moon show #sun and moon show #lunar and earth show #tsams lunar

78 notes · View notes

ceaselesswatchersspecialboy · 2 days ago

Note

HIIII do you have anymore tid bits for you au.... (share all of them. go ham. I LOVE IT SO MUCH)

So many. SO MANY!!

— After Ford gets his body back, Bill makes excuses to himself to watch over Dipper and Mabel when they’re dreaming, and interjects if they have any nightmares. This is definitely important to his evil plans, okay.

— McGucket definitely knows something is wrong with Stanfraud, and makes a scene whenever he sees him, claiming him to be the ‘devil in disguise’, or ‘the beast with one eye’. When Dipper and Mabel ask about it, Bill brushes it off as McGucket’s memory loss making him recall their fallout as worse than it was.

— Bill was roped into helping Stan teach Soos boxing when he was younger. He thought it was stupid at the time, but Stan wasn’t taking no for an answer. Soos still appreciates both of them for it, and Bill doesn’t mind the kid as much anymore. He’s smarter than he looks. He just has to put his mind to it.

— Bill actually likes stargazing. Stan’s surprised when he first catches Bill on the roof doing it, and Bill gets defensive when Stan pushes him on the matter, but he doesn’t exactly hate the company. When he’s left alone with his thoughts and the stars, his mind goes to a place that’s too dark, even for him. So, sometimes he and Stan will grab a drink — usually beer for Stan and some barely drinkable cocktails for Bill — and they’ll watch the stars. When Mabel finds out about it, she joins him. It’s one of the few places that he seems a lot… calmer. Not by a lot, mind you, but it’s noticeable enough for Bill.

— During Headhunters, there’s a lot of conflict between Stan and Bill. Bill thinks it’s weird how Stan is treating the wax figure, that just because he can’t pretend Bill is Ford, doesn’t mean he has to go speaking to a lump of wax. He has a lot of uncomfortable feelings surrounding Ford as is, ones he prefers to bury deep in the back of his mind, and this whole funeral deal, Stan’s genuine grief, it’s really putting a damper on his mood. Plus, he may be a little bit jealous. And maybe, just maybe, a bit concerned. I don’t have the details figured out yet, but I know for a fact they get into an argument over it, and the subject of Ford comes up again — no more avoiding it.

— Stan and Bill are banned from one of the town’s main bars for life. Why? That’s between them and the raccoon.

— I don’t think I’ve mentioned this yet, but Bill actually dyed his, or, well, Ford’s hair brown, though he’s pretty bad at keeping on top of that so the grey roots tend to be showing.

— Dipper Vs Manliness actually has a small bonding moment between Bill and Dipper, where Bill essentially deconstructs gender and also tries to boost Dipper’s confidence, in his own Bill way.

He’s a strangely good influence in general when it comes to masculinity and gender and what not, being as he doesn’t conform to any human expectation. And he would absolutely sing Disco Girl with Dipper too. He loves that song, bitter memories be damned. Why would he let Sixer kill his groove.

And I shall leave it at that for now! If you’d like anymore tidbits I’m always keeping a thousand up my sleeves! And if you’d like any about specific characters, let me know!

#asks #gravity falls #gravity falls au #not who he seems au #bill cipher #stanley pines #dipper pines #mason pines #mabel pines

111 notes · View notes

stxrslut · 24 hours ago

Text

NOTHINGS GONNA HURT YOU BABY ꣑ৎ

summary; a thunderstorm leaves you waking up terrified in the middle of the night, and so you’re ever so loving boyfriend must come up with a fast way to soothe you from all your panic and fear

content; thunderstorm, thigh riding

if there’s one thing about you, it’s that you hate thunderstorms. in your opinion they’re the worst occurrence of nature to ever exist. sure there’s hurricanes and tsunamis and earthquakes, but thunderstorms, they’re worse.

you’re crying, sobbing even. curled into john bs side, you try your absolute hardest to tune out the incessant pummel of rain on the window and the loud booming noises that come down to you from the clouds above.

he’s right beside you, your only anchor. his hand glides up and down your back comfortingly and every now and then he leans down to place a kiss on your forehead and murmur a sentence of quiet reassurance.

his speaker in the corner of the room plays a queue of melodies that you both listen to at bedtime to help wind down your minds. currently it plays the soothing tune of “nothings gonna hurt you baby” by cigarettes after sex, a personal favourite of yours.

john b is humming along to it, you can feel his chest vibrating against the side of your head, it’s a grounding sensation in a moment of such overwhelm. the feeling of his warm skin moving against yours is perfectly stimulating.

you just can’t calm down, your breath stays shaky and the tears keep falling. the jagged inhales you take are causing pain in your chest which only incites more distress to your body.

john b can’t bear to watch, he’s spent the last five minutes trying to think of something he can do to calm you down. and at the moment, there’s only one thing that comes to mind, so he might as well try.

“hey, come on baby, come here.” he speaks so softly as he pulls your body to lay more easily on top of him. you don’t protest, not feeling energetic enough to do so as you sniffle and murmur in ever so slight confusion.

he adjusts your legs so that he can slot one of his built thighs between them, you can immediately feel the gentle pressure it puts onto your pussy through your panties. you moan involuntarily, though it comes out all shaky and messed up due to your crying. john b smiles down at you and rubs your back, “yeah, you feel that? why don’t you focus on that for a little while? good girl.”

it starts off with his guidance, his hands on your hips, helping you rock your hips around and grind yourself on his leg. of course, eventually you take over. your movements become sporadic as you give in to the pleasure and allow yourself to forget the fears of the noises that currently dominate the world just outside your window.

your hands come up to grip onto his beefy arms, his hands rest on your hips, providing help when he feels you need it. your cheek is all pressed up against his chest and your breathing is now heavy for a different reason.

his leg is so perfect to grind on. thick built muscles, it’s full of them, they’re almost padded with a small layer of fat that adds to the heaviness of him. it’s like a perfect concoction. when he was made by whoever makes people, his thighs were created with clitoral stimulation in mind.

it goes on for minutes, blissful minutes. he steps in to help again towards the end, aiding your movements to allow you to really feel your orgasm as it washes over you. you moan out loud, continuing to press yourself onto his leg until the pleasure is fully ridden out.

when you’re finished you’ve tired yourself out so much that you no longer notice the thunderstorm. you find yourself cuddling up into john b's body once more, your eyes starting to drift closed as you tune into the melodic rhythm of the music that still plays on the speaker. your breaths even out with john bs and before you know it, you’re falling right to sleep against his body.

#john b prompt #angel!reader #john b concept #john b blurb #john b routledge #john b x reader #john b obx #obx smut

96 notes · View notes

missfrustration · 3 days ago

Text

a scholar's secret (nanami kento x reader 18+)

rating: explicit 18+, minors do not interact!

tags: pwp, nsfw, smut, rough oral sex, vaginal sex, college/university au, teacher/student relationship, face-fucking, marking, semi-public sex, desk sex, mildly dubious consent, suit kink, light bondage, accidental voyeurism, no use of y/n

A/n: 🎵THINK I NEED SOMEONE OLDERRR🎵 who likes the men in suits kink?? THIS QUEEN. on ao3 here!

word count: 5.3k (too long)

------

“Don’t call me by that name; that’s extremely disrespectful, young lady. I am your senior, and you will address me as such.”

“I’ll do whatever I want, Nanami .” You cross your arms, looking at your professor sitting at his desk across the room.

Today, he asked you to stay after school for remedial lessons. You’ve been failing his class recently, which he doesn’t take lightly. You couldn’t give less of a shit, however, since It isn’t the class you’re bothered about; it’s him.

Nanami Kento is the one who’s constantly been on your mind. You can't deny your attraction toward your English professor even when you're almost a decade younger than him, but your current situation makes your feelings impossible to hide.

“Do you want to stay in this program or not? If you keep skipping my classes, the school will drop you out.” He points at you with a pen in hand.

“Do you even want me to stay? You could kick me out yourself if I’m such a burden.” You sit on the student desk closest to Nanami, crossing your legs. Nanami clicks his tongue at the action, now looking at you up and down.

“Yes, I want all of my students to stay and pass. And that includes you, too.” He shifts to rest his head on his palm. “You’re intelligent enough to pass this class with flying colors, so why don’t you try?”

“Why don’t I ? You don’t take me seriously! Do you think I should give a shit-”

Nanami calls your name, cutting you off, “Watch your language. Now . I will not tolerate this disobedience in my classroom.”

He’s not playing around anymore, but that annoyed look of his as he lazily puts his chin on his palm pisses you off more. You kick off the table, back onto the carpeted floor, and pace behind his desk. He keeps eye contact with you without swiveling his head, watching your every move with indifference.

“Or what ? Gonna fucking kick me out? Seems like the right course of action, considering I’m just some bitch you couldn’t care less about.” You spit out.

He slowly turns to you, raising his head from his hands, which causes you to back down. “Hey,” Nanami starts getting up to face you entirely, “I said language. Watch yourself, young lady. ”

You’ve had about enough of this. If this is how it’s gonna be, you didn’t even care about winning his affection anymore. You just need to say what’s on your mind. You’re probably going to get kicked off the roster either way.

You look at him and lower your voice as you step closer. “I know that you know, Nanami.”

He raises his eyebrow as you continue.

“I can’t keep taking your class if you silently reject me. If you treated me like a nobody, maybe it would be better. Instead, you have me stay after class doing stupid lessons like that will change anything.”

You pause for a minute, feeling the back of your eyes water and a cry come to your throat. You feel so frustrated with him right now but crying would make things so much worse. You continue with your head down, putting an extended emphasis on your words to quell your emotions. “It’s… torture for me. I can’t keep seeing your face in class anymore.”

You raise your head to see the man standing in front of you. He gets up from his chair and crosses his arms.

Nanami closes his eyes and gives a long sigh. “Okay. I’m sorry. I thought this would be helpful for you given the situation, but now I realize I was mistaken.”

He ends his sentence, looking back at you silently for a reply. You stare at him, growing more furious the longer he doesn’t say anything else.

“Wow, I can’t believe you. That’s all you have to say to me, asshole?” You spit out.

“How many times do I have to tell you? Stop spouting that unpleasant language.”

“Oh, yeah? Make me then, Nanami .” You raise your hand to point at him. Before you could, Nanami grabbed your hand and gripped it. Hard. You try to free yourself, but your teacher won’t let go.

“Hey, get off!”

“No.”

“This is extremely unprofessional of you.”

Nanami cocks his head and twists your wrist, which plagues your discomfort, “Huh. I could say the same for you, young lady. Watch your mouth.”

You try to free your wrist again and again. To no avail, it only makes his grip tighten. Your tears have dissipated, leaving behind the pent-up rage you’ve built from this man.

“Just. Let. Me. Leave!”

“No can do.”

You start to turn away. With your back facing him, you try to free your wrist still grabbed by your professor. With each tug to break free, you spit out the vulgarity, “Ugh, you’re an asshole. An idiot. A moron. Shitbag. Useless profess-”

You feel a harsh tug on your wrist as you whirl around. You feel dazed and confused, letting out a small yelp that is silenced by his lips clashing against yours and rough hands falling on your waist. Against your lips, Nanami mutters.

“You brat.”

As your back falls against Nanami’s desk, you lean forward to deepen the kiss, earning a growl from him. Nanami’s scent instantly infiltrated your nose, a nutty musk and vanilla that fit him perfectly. His grip gets harsher when he feels you comply with his touch and your bodies close as you take your pent-up frustrations on each other. You dig your nails through the roots of his hair. He grabs your waist with need, cutting your thighs onto the rigid wood, which causes you to squeak in surprise.

You think Nanami has finally snapped out of his hypnosis when he slowly separates himself from you with a sour look. He shakes his head with a lingering sigh, tapping a finger to your forehead.

“I thought you would’ve learned to keep your mouth shut, but I can see you didn’t get that through that pretty little head.”

“I’m curious to hear what else you expect me to learn when you want to shut me up like this .”

He brushes his hair back as he looks you up and down, taking down your body in a generous display that makes your face heat up. Your thin bra and shirt revealed the protusion of your nipples, and those tight, low-rise jeans showed enough midriff to be noticeable. He bluntly ignores your comment, and you can tell by his knit brows and darting eyes that he’s entirely in his thoughts.

“Dammit, you pesky girl, if I keep going, I’ll be in huge trouble.”

You are dumbfounded at this turn of events. As Nanami hints, separating your bodies to stop this very inappropriate advance would be the best course of action, yet your limbs are still entangled; you don’t push yourself off the desk, and your faces stay tapered to the intimate space. You see his lips pursed and his temples relaxed. The chisel of his jaw was somehow sharper in your proximity, now making him look more irresistible.

“I can keep a secret.” You say.

Desperation takes over as you brush past his tie, feeling the tight muscles that hold shape under his pressed suit. You bawl your fists tightly onto Nanami’s fitted suit jacket before diving your lips to his. Now you were the hungry one. Nanami matches your pace, promptly leading the kiss as he presses into your body.

“We are so fucked if we get caught, huh?” You can’t keep a smile off your face against his lips, reveling in the fact that Nanami’s whole career is on the line—all because of you.

“Obviously.”

“I don’t see what you’re trying to do then. Lose your job?”

Nanami clicks his tongue at the sudden cockiness you’ve shown, tilting your face up to meet his gaze and smushing your cheeks between the pads of his fingers. You note that his hands are unusually soft.

“I’m trying to shut up that filthy mouth of yours.”

His brows are furrowed, almost angry at you for making him say the things he seems desperate to conceal. You could care less if he’s agitated; he has you so worked up that your feelings are in a daze–well, except for the feeling that makes you want to moan against the stiffened fingers that clutch your skin.

“Do whatever you want to me.”

He lifts you onto his desk, pushing past a stack of papers. It didn’t matter that the last essay for your class cascaded on the floor at that moment. What did matter was the way Nanami’s hands laid on your button-up blouse, pulling it apart so rough the plastic buttons flew off your shirt, clattering across the floor. You moan erotically before Nanami’s large hand clamps on your mouth, muffling you.

“ Ah, ah. We don’t need anyone hearing that,” Nanami says, his hand unfastening from your lips yet idles in the air. “Obey this one thing, at least.”

“What if I don’t want to?”

“Then, I’ll teach you an outstanding lesson while we’re at it.” Nanami pulls his tie off cleanly, leaving the collar slack from his broad neck. He slips his suit jacket off with ease and tosses it to the ground.

“Teaching me anything this year hasn’t been your strong suit.”

“Well, we don’t need to do this the hard way, but with that attitude? That’s where you're headed,” Nanami grabs both of your breasts under that thin bra of yours, freeing them from the cups before diving in to taste them.

A small pant escapes your lips at the sensation, arching your back to give your professor more access. He takes the opportunity, using his teeth to slowly drag across your nipples. Your knuckles clench against the desk as you try to stay quiet. Even if your threshold for pleasure without moaning like an animal is barely existent, you want more from Nanami. You want him to rile up, to give him a face other than stoicism and agitation.

“What’s the hard way ? Being fucked in your classroom?” You thrall, unable to hide that smirk that tells Nanami exactly which option you prefer. “Maybe making me your private lesson for the day?”

Nanami scoffs, using your name as a cautionary tale, to tell you to not push him. You swing your feet on his desk, knocking the back of your shoes off the wood, and grabbing your tits to playfully taunt him. You twist the nipples in front of him, giving him your feigned faces of arousal, grabbing the fat like it didn’t matter to you. You wanted it all to matter to him, and you certainly didn’t miss those eyes that glanced at your display before looking back up.

“ Oh , I love a challenge, baby.” You sing, reaching up to pull him closer, undoing the top few buttons of his shirt to reveal a soft glimpse of clavicle.

His hands catch both of yours.

Before you could feel the skin underneath that white shirt, Nanami’s hands took your hips and dragged you back on the ground, away from the desk and probably the last chance you had to back out. Not like you had any intention to back out anyway.

“Get on your fucking knees.” He says. The words come out so dark, so lustful , so purposeful that you would’ve never expected from your English professor.

You didn’t even need to think about it. The way you immediately knelt on the ground like an obedient dog for your instructor is concerning. You watch his hands reach above his trouser pants, see his well-manicured nails travel right at the hem in front of you, and pull out the dress shirt he tucked so neatly in place. Once his brown leather belt clicked off, you didn’t need to consider future repercussions.

“The rest of it. Take it off.” He tells you.

Your skinny fingers unbutton his suit pants and inch down his boxers, catapulting his hard-on out in the air. You practically whimper at the sight. His dick is more than you imagined in all those lectures you sat in on. It's curved with a prominent and a large vein running from head to base, making you shift your legs. You thought about him in the same lectures where you would catch eyes with Nanami and let both eyes travel to each other. Those tight trousers you’ve thirsted to have off are no longer a problem.

It’s much more satisfying when you see the drapes match the curtains.

“Good, now…–!” His sentence breaks, and he hisses when your fingers suddenly wrap around him.

You feel a different ridge and vein of his thick girth for every second that passes before gallantly pumping it with your fist. The way your fingers were shy of connecting a ring around his shaft was enough to make you wet.

You didn’t have to think twice when you looked up at him, giving him pretty innocent eyes as you stroked his cock. Inside, you were absolutely reveling in the power. Your arms narrowed into your torso, giving Nanami the perfect view of your tits. You pulled your face right next to his member while you stroked it like such a tease to see if you could make him take things a step further. At this point, you can’t hide the creeping grin when Nanami’s stoic gaze starts to turn darker. He starts unbuttoning the rest of his loosened shirt.

“ Fuck , I love how you look right now,” Nanami says. “Put that gorgeous mouth to work.”

No second was needed to think; you instantly cut your attention on the growl that spilled off of his tongue when your lips kissed his cock. Maybe it would be better to get to the point, to take all of him in your mouth and show him what you’ve been daydreaming about, but something wants you to unravel him slowly. By the time each of his buttons undoes on his dress shirt, you get to see just how chiseled your professor is.

You travel your tongue up and down his shaft, teasing and tasting the sweet skin shy of his trimmed pubic hair. You gaze at the perfect cut of his V-line, then to all the rigid lines of each muscle exposed to you.

Your hands start to loosen the pants and boxers still around his hips as you lick him, making it pool down his ankles and shiny brown loafers. You return to his hips and trace graceful lines on his cream-colored skin.

His skin catches you in a trace; every inch of his body is soft and supple, showing it’s cared for. When your fingers rub against it, you mistake it for a canvas picked from the finest clothes. The perfection doesn’t look real.

Your face flushes when his finger strokes your cheek. He looks like he could melt from your eyes, slowly turning a more profound gaze once you take all of him in your mouth.

You let your throat relax as, inch by inch, you swallow his cock down, looking at him the whole way. Nanami watches the whole thing, mouth agape, and face furrowed like he’s in agony . Like he was one step away from using your head as he liked and making a mess out of you, his favorite student who should learn more about obedience. The pace you hold is that of a snail, but you want to get accustomed to his length: it’ll help out both of you.

Once his pubic hair tickles the tip of your nose, you feel like you’re running out of breath. The need to take all of him is a ticking time bomb. You squish your lips against the base in a flash, scrunching your nose to his pelvis before pulling away and starting back at the head.

The second time, reaching his base was a lot easier, especially with a hot distraction watching you like you were the moon and stars. Tufts of hair now stuck to his forehead as he pants at you, eyes dilated and bothered to look at anything else.

You continue to bob your head up and down on his pulsing dick, reaching a finger to tug at his balls lightly. Your mouth has fully painted his shaft in a layer of your own spit, brushing it down the base before replacing it with a new layer. The build-up of saliva gathered around your lips in a wet foam.

His stoic gaze, which he held since the day you met him, crumbles. His bottom lip is trapped between his teeth as he huffs in the air. By the minute, his pants grow rugged as his hand brushes back your hair. If he didn’t do that, your hair would’ve been in the way of the lock of your eyes.

When you tease the bottom of his head with the graze of your bottom teeth, he balls your loose hair in a fist. the force causes you to whimper out before plunging his dick in your mouth as fast as you could. Over and over again.

“ Thaat’s it .”

His head throws back as his hips start to snap into your mouth. His hand tangled in your hair forces you down on his cock, but the other presses against your cheek, caressing and tilting your head just right. He groans a little louder when he tilts your head up to rock against you, just to tilt your head back down when it gets overwhelming.

You could practically taste the pre-cum seeping into your mouth, your cheeks hollow out, making the pressure on Nanami’s cock tighten the fist on your hair. He couldn’t help but use that head. He rocks you with reckless abandon, tears rolling down your cheeks and no doubt make a writhing mess of you. You constrict your lips around him so much his entire body jolts. You want more than just pre-cum.

“Okay, okay.”

He pulls you off once he’s on the edge of cumming down your throat. How can you tell? The bliss he had on his face slowly trickling earlier was now contorted, his once slicked back hair now starting to fall out of place, and his other hand that gripped the edge of his desk at the last minute showed you all you needed to know. He didn’t need to tell you the obvious anyway, you knew where he wants to cum.

Your mouth had saliva dripping down your chin, making a thick string connect you and the tip of his penis. Your eyes teared up enough to no doubt smear the mascara on your bottom lashes. Gasps of air replace the part of Nanami that graced every corner of your mouth. You looked up at him like you were oblivious to the mess he made out of you, practically fluttering your eyes at his almost naked body.

“You look beautiful like that.”

Nanami helps you up before enveloping you in his body, arm around your waist, and crooning your head to sop up the spit that dribbled down your neck. The sensation of his tongue and grip on your body made it feel on fire. His lips to your ear had the perfect timing.

“You want me to treat your pretty pussy the same way as your slutty mouth?”

“Please.”

Nanami immediately kisses you while helping you out of your clothing. Things needed to change if he was the only one naked.

He’s insatiable when he sees your naked body, taking in every exposed surface of skin that he can. In one swift motion, he moves closer to you before leaning down, hoisting you in the air by your ass, with large hands gripping the supple skin before placing you on his desk. You’re left in disarray as he wastes no time nipping at your skin. His hands are on you, caressing you as one holds your face close. His teeth brush up and down the surface of your shoulders.

Your hands impatiently reach for the hand lovingly stroking your face, lowering it down your torso near your aching apex.

“Touch me.”

Your legs spread to show him a view of your lips, the ones his hand is being led to. You study his face as he gets achingly closer to your core, watching the enchantment in his eyes over that stoicism.

A heavy exhale escapes you when his fingers brush over your labia, his fingers drawing along the puffy skin. Even with his slight touch, a small whine escapes you as you shiver under his touch.

He spreads your folds with two fingers and sighs, no doubt seeing the effect he’s had on you. Your arousal pools out from the source, one he uses to gloss his fingers. He presses his digits against you and coats himself so expertly before pausing. It causes your legs to squirm with anticipation.

“I don’t think it will fit.” He exhales a harbored breath and holds up his fingers, spitting on them as pseudo-lubricant. “Let me teach you how to fix that.”

He leans over you, spit softly dribbling down his knuckles as his other hand cages you to him.

Your arms buckle against the desk to steady yourself as you lean back, giving Nanami the perfect spot over you. He positions himself between your legs, arm lowering down to your apex by slowly dragging the back of his hand down your body.

Nanami watches your body as his finger pushes in. No, push is an overstatement. His finger easily glides into you, breaking the barrier easily due to your dripping arousal. Your eyebrows lift and knit together as your body reacts to him. His eyes stay on you, stoic yet interested in your movement.

“You sound good like this.”

He’s a knuckle-deep by the time you start to pant, fists tightened against the desk. Your back arches to showcase your pretty tits to him, and you feel your legs spread more with each inch he pushes into you.

“And you get worked up so fast.”

Never has a man been so intent, so clear with his actions, enough to make yourself so turned on from so little done to your body. His words make you wetter and your pussy pulse in a way that doesn’t feel possible.

You feel euphoric when he starts pumping. At first you tried not to show it, but his expertise was clear, watching your reaction to each movement. Heavy, piercing eyes look at you, searching for a reason why you’ve come undone faster than he thought.

You let out weighted breaths, coming out of you like a thick smoke. You try to quell the flames, to lower the tone of your pleasure, but Nanami dares to make you even hotter, even louder with fingers that pump faster into you..

He’s in a daze, looking at your pussy as his fingers go in and out, scissoring, curling, plunging inside you. You try to swallow down your moans as you clench onto digits.

“Slow down.” You manage to say.

He pulls back immediately.

“Why, too much?”

“No, I just, I don’t feel like I should be this loud over justâ€¦”

“I can fix that.”

His head impatiently presses to yours.

He lingers his tongue against your lips, leaving your mouth breathless before he’s even kissed you. Your hand leads him back when you see his plan; to muffle you under his touch.

You feel him insert another finger into you.

What is this, the second? Third? His finger stretched you out so much you can’t determine it, but you know you need it in order to fit him.

His fingers gently scissor you open, helping your body adapt to the changes. He uses his other hand to stroke your leg when it starts to shake, and he looks at your face, watching for any semblance of pain along the way.

“Are you doing okay?” He whispers.

“I can definitely take more.” You said, coming off as more cocky than you intended.

“I see.”

He leans down to the floor, making you spread your legs in anticipation for him licking you up, that would make sense right?

“Give me your hands.”

Did you think he needs your hands for this? No. You hold them out for him regardless.

You don’t think you could fully register how fast he grabbed your wrists as you see his tie flash past and quickly tighten around the skin.

“Who knew English class could get you so riled up?” You giggle in response before being shut up by Nanami’s lips on yours.

Your tongues dance together when you hear the familiar crinkle of a wrapper, before peaking your eyes open to see Nanami sliding the condom down his member. He doesn’t falter once.

Your hands feel higher when he breaks the kiss, Nanami forcing them up and out of the way in order to get close to you. It only takes a second to reconnect lips again, both of you so hungry this time, knowing what’s to come.

With nimble hands you pull Nanami closer, letting his hands lower to your hips, gripping himself close to your soaked pussy. With a whisper of consent, his cockhead eases into you.

Pushing in, both of you release a sigh of relief as you feel yourself being stretched out more than earlier. You whimper against his skin, thankful he worked on loosening you up beforehand, but still living the very real consequences of his thick girth.

Your hands squirm in the air, desperately wanting to wrap around your professor, but a stagnant hand holds them in the air, denying you the ability to move them any farther than digging your nails into his wrist.

You stifle your moans into heavy breaths when his length fully sinks into you, but the task seems impossible when he starts moving his hips.

you

He was only a few thrusts in before you both heard a knock on the door.

“Hey, Mr. Nanami. You okay in there? I’ll be leaving soon, but I wanted to check in.”

You squeak, realizing who is talking on the other side of the door. It was the dean of the college, one that is a door away from sending you to expulsion. You tense up, something that Nanami definitely notices.

“Dammit,” Nanami mutters, hips stuttering when you unconsciously squeeze around him. For him it feels pleasurable. For you it feels downright heavenly, wasting no time to gasp.

Immediately, hands clasp onto your mouth, muffling a surprised gasp when Nanami thrusts deeper into you.

“Try to be quiet.” He whispers, immediately raising his voice. “Thanks, Ichiji, sir, but I’m good. I just found a student who needs some help. I’ll lock up myselfâ€¦ shit.” Nanami could barely squeeze out an excuse before grunting. You squeezed your pussy around his dick, clamping down on him just right. Does he know if it’s purposeful? At first it wasn’t, but seeing he has his hand clamp around you, it’s free game.

“You sure you’re alright? I heard some concerning noises,” the principal trails off.

You hear the door handle shift, yet the door doesn’t open.

“Apologies, the handle must be jammed again.” Nanami says. “I’ll get going in a few.”

There’s a pause, one you don’t divulge in, as Nanami gets his payback by sinking his teeth into your shoulder, making you shiver into his grasp. You hear the faintness of the voice once again.

“Well, try not to overwork yourself again. I’ll be leaving.”

You pry his fingers off your mouth after hearing footsteps echo down the hallway. You almost hear what sounds like a sound of relief coming from your professor.

“Please, that door has never jammed,” You blink. “Wait, did you lock it earlier?”

“Can’t help it. It seems I can’t control myself around you.”

He doesn’t explain further, rather showing you the extent of his swagger.

He leans into your neck, nibbling on the flesh before sucking on one of your nipples, passionately licking, biting, and kissing the bud until your pussy clamps back down on him.

He hollowed his core, rounded his back, and clapped into you more. His eyes watch you flutter under him as your legs wrap around him.

The slaps of his balls thumping against your pussy with each jack of his hips is loud, raunchy, and undomesticated. Your voice breaks into a heavenly sound without resistance now, and Nanami doesn’t move to stop it. When there’s a semblance of silence in your moans, you manage to choke out, “What happened to shutting me up?”

“My superior isn’t here anymore. I couldn’t give a damn about what anyone else hears.”

Nanami spreads your legs, thrusting in you so forcefully your mouth opens in another silent scream, your eyes roll back from the pleasure.

“Want a challenge? Scream so loud like it’s the last thing I’ll ever hear.”

He drank that shit upâ€”you knewâ€”so much that you could see his eyes practically fuck you harder than his body. Just when you think he’s reached his capacity to pleasure you harder, he reaches for your shoulder, letting his grip slam you into his thrusts. The way his cockhead starts pounding againt your cervix sends a full body current of otherworldly heat into you, making your head kick back and body shake. If it wasn’t for your professor's firm hands on you, your body would have flown off the damn desk. No, all the energy of each thrust is concentrated entirely inside of you, promoting a mirase of raunchy moans that have never bellowed from your body.

Your crescendo of pleasure hit its peak soon enough, rupturing a loud moan from your throat. Your feet wrap around behind him, encasing his whole length inside you as you cum on him. You stop Nanami’s hard hammering of hips, causing his cock to twitch amidst your orgasm.

You're twitching on his desk, genuinely so tweaked and cock drunk you don’t need to move. Your mouth is open and covered in your dried spittle, along with your face and eye makeup undoubtedly smeared. You’re gasping for air just as much as Nanami is. You don’t have it in you to do anything else; you're not coherent enough for that.

Nanami holds out his hand.

“Here.”

He helps you down with gentle hands. The softness of his grip when his hands fall to your waist swells your heart and makes you blush.

Your mind doesn’t have a chance to think before you feel something heavy drape around your shoulders. Nanami covers you with his suit jacket, one that’s surpringly weighted, yet durable.

He turns you around, and you feel his figure kneel behind you before untieing your restraints. He doesn’t stumble in undoing the knots, freeing your wrists promptly.

“Hold still.”

You feel his hand pressing against your inner thigh, telling you to spread your feet. You do so, and feel a cloth in between your legs, cleaning you up in soft strokes. You let him clean you, keeping your body still.

When he gets up, he paces back to his desk, placing his now sodden handkerchief to the side. You hold the suit jacket from the sides, preventing it from sliding off.

“You planned all those measures? Kinda odd you would have condoms in the classroom.”

He shrugs.

“I can’t imagine having a kid with someone about a decade my junior.”

That wasn’t exactly what you were asking about; you brushed it off regardless. What did annoy you was his hint of snideness in the remark.

You lean against the desk with an annoyed grimace. “Remind me to poke a hole in it next time.”

Nanami furrows his brows at your remark.

“You will do no such thing,” he says in a flat tone. That lack of depth in his voice doesn’t mean you don’t catch a hint of playfulness in his face.

“Does that mean there will be a next time?”

“Come to my class more, and then we can talk.”

“Deal.”

#x reader #fanfic #fem reader #reader insert #ao3 fanfic #my fanfic #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #nanami kento #nanami x reader #jjk nanami #nanami smut

89 notes · View notes

lunarsilver · 1 day ago

Text

What do your spirit guides want to tell you?

For this reading, I used a deck with only Major Arcana, to get more general but "big", powerful messages. This is what your spirit guides want to tell and advise you really bad.

Arts are from volume covers of Jibaku Shounen Hanako-kun.

REMEMBER

I’m not a doctor, a psychiatrist, a therapist nor a psychologist. Divination will never replace meetings with them.

It’s a general reading, so not everything will resonate.

If you can’t choose between two piles, probably both of them have some messages for you. You can also not identify with any of them, and that’s okay, too.

Readings can help you make a decision, but they shouldn’t be the main reason for making it.

1 ~ 2 3 ~ 4

PILE 1

Temperance - The High Priestess - The Sun R - Back of the Deck: The Emperor R

Maybe because the first two cards in my deck present women, plus especially because of the High Priestess, but what comes to my mind immediately is “femininity”. This is an encouragement to lean more into what is traditionally feminine. The more I look into the cards, the clearer this message is - there’s Temperance, the card of balance, there’s the feminine High Priestess, and there’s the masculine Emperor in reverse. Temperance asks you to balance your life more. Work-life balance, logic-emotions balance, as well as how you act around people. Your spirit guides suggest trying to work together and be a team player, both Temperance and the High Priestess tell you this. The High Priestess is also an invitation to trust your intuition more, to tap more into your spirituality. Maybe your spirit guides would like to talk more to you, and they wish you would let them. With the Sun in reverse, they suggest you should have some fun, do what brings you joy, and listen to your inner child. The Emperor in reverse suggests you could have a not fully healthy relationship with your traditionally masculine traits (I want to make this clear - I always write “traditionally” for a reason, think about it as your relationship with what society expects of you, with gender stereotypes). Your spirit guides want you to reflect on how you look at your relationships with other people. Treat them as your equals, they’re neither better nor worse than you. It won’t resonate with everyone, of course, but I keep having this image of someone working an office job who is kind of bitter and so focused on one aspect of their life that they forget the little joys of life and don’t treat their coworkers/subordinates nicely. So, to sum it up, reevaluate your priorities, find some time to be alone with your own thoughts, with your hobbies, and try to treat other people equally. And give your spirit guides a call.

PILE 2

Temperance R - The Hierophant R - The Hanged Man R - Back of the Deck: The Fool

It’s interesting how, just like in Pile 1, the first card is Temperance, but this time in reverse. Similarly, the message here is to reevaluate what you give attention to and balance your life, but it’s even more urgent. It’s not wise to spend too much on something or to focus on only one aspect of your life, ignoring other ones. Your spirit guides tell you to put some time into self-healing and taking care of yourself. Maybe some home spa would be good, nurturing both your body and mind. Next, the Hierophant in reverse is all about making your own path, challenging the status quo, and not caring as much about the approval of others. Your spirit guides encourage you to find your own voice and speak your mind. Do what is right for you. The reversed Hanged Man tells you it’s time to stop living your life on autopilot and actually start doing something. Think about what you would like to do, make a plan and do it. The Fool at the back just highlights how much your spirit guides want you to embark on a new journey. Don’t be scared of new beginnings. This whole reading emphasizes how important it is to make some changes in your life, and while doing so, keep in mind what will make you happy. You, not someone else. You are the master of your own fate, nobody else can live your life for you. Your spirit guides are with you, so stop merely existing and start to live. It may be scary at first, but you’ve got it!

PILE 3

The Star R - The Magician - The Hermit - Back of the Deck: The Wheel of Fortune

Right off the bat, there’s a lot of gold and some brown, white and blue color-wise, which makes me feel you should take a closer look at your finances and your earthly matters, but also don’t forget about the more spiritual things. Another interesting thing is how the Magician and the Hermit have a similar pose, both with their arms raised, as if creating something out of thin air or launching an attack. Now, getting to the cards themselves, you had a harder time, huh? The Star in reverse tells me that you could start to doubt whether there is something good for you in this life, whether some higher forces are there for you - and here your spirit guides are, screaming that yes, they are here for you, they always are. So nourish yourself, remember what’s important for you and what you want to do, and do it. The Magician says that, once you get in the right mindset, you have everything needed to manifest your desires. Stop self-loathing, stop procrastinating, it’s time to do the THING. Your passion project, your art, your book, your dance. With the Hermit, your spirit guides encourage you to look inward and take some time for yourself. As I wrote at the beginning, both the Magician and the Hermit in this deck have similar poses, they both create something, and they lay here next to each other. At the same time, there’s this interesting contrast, as one is more dark and blue and kind of nocturnal, while the other is gold and bright. I think these parallels are here to tell you how important it is to both think and act, as only then will you create what you want. Only thinking about your goal won’t take you anywhere, only acting without thinking can lead to a catastrophe. With the Wheel of Fortune, your spirit guides once again tell you that you’re not alone and everything is temporary, nothing lasts forever. You may feel hopeless right now, but “this too shall pass”.

PILE 4

The Moon - The Chariot R - Strength - Back of the Deck: The Hermit

This pile is all about being with you yourself. Your spirit guides encourage you to have some alone time and not act recklessly. The Moon is about your fears - your spirit guides encourage you to deal with them and stop running away. However, it’s more about healing your inner child and doing some shadow work than about dealing with them in a more physical way. Write a journal, think about therapy. There are some issues here that you need to work through. Tap more into your intuition and be patient, as you may not have the full picture right now. Next, the Chariot and Strength are both about, well, strength - but the Chariot is more about the outer strength and will, while Strength is more about the inner one. And here we have the reversed Chariot. Both of these cards together emphasize how you should work on your self-discipline and commitment. You have this kind of quiet strength for influencing and persuading without raising your voice. This kind of confidence and strength is not as visible as the loud one, but it isn’t a reason to underestimate you. The Hermit at the back yet again tells you to look into yourself and spend some time with your thoughts. Your spirit guides think you can do a lot of things once you start dealing with your fears and insecurities and realize you can be powerful in more ways than one. Your inner strength is your power.

#divination #pick a picture #pick a card #pick a card reading #cartomancy #general reading #tarot reading #free tarot reading #pick a pile #spirit guides

60 notes · View notes

holidayinhell · 2 days ago

Text

Interview

CWs: references to noncon, violence

1. Would you rather - Rope or Chains?

R: Rope.

W: Chains, dear god, chains any day. Ropes fucking burn.

2. If Whumpee had multiple Whumpers, who is their favourite? For Whumpers, which Whumpee was your favourite?

R: Yeah, I’ve got a favorite. A couple years back I had a Whumpee who fought me at every turn. He'd throw his food at me, cuss me out, and try to attack me. One time he scratched absolute shit outta my arms. Anyways, I got tired of his shitty attitude and decided to kill him. I didn't keep it a secret, I told him he was gonna die. But when I went in to do it, he changed completely. No more screaming, no spark in his eye. He got quiet. Heh, he got all lovey dovey with me even. You know, lots of people say they’ll do anything if only you’ll spare their life. I never did cash in on that promise, but on this Whumpee, I put it to the fucking test. Heh. He let me do whatever I wanted to him. Depraved, horrible things, that would make the most degenerate man blush. Heh, and even though he was crying through most of it, he still pretended to like everything I did to him. And god. You should’ve seen his eyes when I told him I was still gonna kill him. That look. I think about it still.

W: I can’t. glances over at Whumper. Next question please.

3: In your opinion, what is the best way to train a pet?

R: Humans are fickle fucking beasts. You have to break down someone’s pride in order to train them. I start off with food deprivation, that usually helps me gauge what kind of fight I’m in for.

W: Positive reinforcement has always worked for me… I’ve only ever had a pet bearded dragon though.

4: Broken ribs or bullet wound?

R: Both.

W: These questions are uncomfortable to answer. But, uh, bullet wound I guess. Assuming it didn’t graze any organs.

5: Preferred type of gag?

R: I like a fabric gag. Or a simple piece of duct tape. Sometimes they come off and I get to squeeze a little scream out of Whumpee, and then I put a fresh one right back on. I kinda like the cycle of it.

W: I don’t have a preference… none? I guess the metal bit one isn't the worst of them. It hurts my teeth but at least I can still kinda breathe.

6: Burned or stabbed?

R: Stabbed.

W: Stabbed, I guess?

7: Favourite stress position?

R: An old-fashioned hogtie. I guess I’m unimaginative but I don’t get too crazy into the BDSM shit. Who has the patience for that?

W: Uhh.. just, handcuffs behind my back. Something relatively comfortable.

8: Have you given or received any Brands? What do they signify?

R: Heh. No. Never been branded. I certainly have had my fun branding Whumpee though.

W: I… have two… Uhm. One on my chest that, thank Christ, is almost all the way healed. It said, uh, swine. The other one is on my back, it’s a lot worse. I don’t know what it says but I can feel it so it’s um, it’s here to stay, I guess.

R: It says Nice Try. Remember?

W: Not really.

R: From your second half-hearted escape attempt. Didn't realize you forgot. But I did hit you pretty fucking hard that night.

9: Broken arm or broken leg?

R: Leg.

W: Arm. A million times, arm.

10: How did you get here? Why are you the way that you are?

R: I live here. Far as I know, I’ve always been 'like this'-- whatever the hell that means. And I don’t see a problem with it. We’re all free to do as we like, so that’s what I fucking do.

W: I dunno. I, I was outside, it was dark and I think it was raining…yeah… heading home from the bar. I didn’t drink that much. I didn’t live that far, either, so the rain wasn’t a problem. I remember falling down and then… I woke up here. And I’ve been here ever since.

11: What is your biggest regret?

R: I wish this Whumpee could’ve learned a thing or two from my defiant Whumpee in the second question you asked. I wanna get my dick sucked like that every fucking night.

W: Regrets... yeah, I've got a few. One stands out. It was late at night, Whumper didn't tie me up. I snuck out of my cell and I made it to the steps. Almost to the top, nearly all the way out. The door was unlocked and cracked open a little, I thought I could make a run for it and—

R: —I was waiting for you at the top. Heh. I wanted to see if you'd run, and you sure tried to. Not so much after that, though.

12: Is there a line you won’t cross? For Whumpee, what do you most fear Whumper might do?

R: A line I wouldn’t cross? Uhhh…. No. No, I don’t think so. I’ll cross any fucking line. turns to Whumpee, grinning. So what are you afraid of, Whumpee?

W: I, um. Does he really have to be here when I answer these questions?

R: Tell them, Whumpee.

W: Can I whisper it to you? (he’s already done so much to me, so fucking much… it’s dumb but I don’t want him to shave my head.)

R: smirks. You know I heard that.

13: What lessons have you taken away from your experience?

R: Everything has been the same old, same old for me. Guess this Whumpee’s lasted longer than the rest of ‘em. He’s coming up on a year soon. Kind of impressive he’s stuck around this long and hasn’t given me a reason to kill him yet.

W: I don’t know. I do what I’m told so I can eat. I take it day by day. I guess the lesson I’ve learned is that abandoning pride is the only way to survive…

14: Whip or cane?

R: Whip.

W: Yeah. Whip.

R: Didn’t expect you to say that. Noted.

15: Drugged or coherent?

R: Depends on the situation. Drugging them is useful for transport but I don’t much like it when they’re too dazed to understand what’s happening. Sometimes they fall asleep, too.

W: Drug me any fucking day. I don’t care. I’ll take whatever you have.

16: What are your true, honest feelings about each other? Is there some part of you that cares for the other at all?

R: Sometimes I like to touch him. He’s warm and it’s funny when he tries to squirm away. Plus I like it when he begs me to stop. But do I care about him? …eh. Sure, sorta. He’s my plaything.

W: Erm. Thanks, I guess. For me… Whumper is the reason I’m here. I guess I’m appreciative for the food… but he does hurt me. A lot. Constantly.

R: You're very welcome.

17: What is your favourite thing about the other? A personality trait, a physical feature, anything

R: He’s got pretty hair. A kind of pretty face, too. Yeah, almost like a girl. Heh. And he makes good sounds when he’s screaming.

W: Ah. Fuck. I really don’t know how to answer this…

R: Come on. What’s your favorite part?

W: Um. Well, I'll say this: Whumper is smart. Scary smart. I don’t think anyone would ever imagine how smart. I don’t know. I don’t. It’s… terrifying.

18: Do you have relationships outside of each other? Friends, family - if yes, do they know about Whumpee? Do they care?

R: Yes, yes, and no.

W: I have a half sister in, uh, Arkansas. We’re not close, obviously… used to have friends I guess, but it’s been a long time since I saw them…

19: What other hobbies do/did you have?

R: Video games.

W: I used to play saxophone. A lifetime ago.

20: For Whumper, is there any chance you’ll let Whumpee go? For Whumpee, have you ever thought about life after you’re free?

R: No. Sorry. Realistically, it doesn’t make sense to ‘let him go.’

W: I, uh, I used to think about it. I don't anymore… like he said.. realistically it doesn’t make any sense.

R: Mm. Good answer, Whumpee.

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

this interview uses the questions from Character Ask Game post by @inhurtandincomfort !! thanks homie!

((more Whump))

#whumpblr #whump writing #whump #whump interview #idk lol this was a fun exercise in writing #cw: noncon #whump drabble

55 notes · View notes

peterman-spideyparker · 2 days ago

Text

The Great War (Babe Part 2) (Matt Murdock x fem!Reader)

Author’s Note: Hey everyone! At the risk of forgetting to post part two, I'm doing it now! Like I mentioned in the first post, it's only a part two if you want it to be--you can just have read Babe and leave it at that, but this is just more idea to go with it that I couldn't stop my brain from working on. Enjoy! :)

Summary: It's been almost a month since you left Matt. Everything hurts, and you're doing what you can to get through. Foggy calls, and it turns out Matt's not doing much better. For the first time, you have no idea what your future with Matt Murdock looks like.

Listening rec: The Great War by Taylor Swift

Warnings: ANGST, Matt and reader are separated (Matt cheated), they’re both heartbroken at the situation, swearing, fighting/shouting/anger, throwing, Matt grabs reader (NO VIOLENCE, but the Devil of Hell's Kitchen pokes out), depression (mention of the word "borderline suicidal" in reference to season three Matt), Matt being reckless, lots of crying, drinking

Other Characters: Foggy Nelson

Word Count: 2,820

Before you can even say a feeble hello, Foggy is already speaking. “Matt’s devastated,” he breathes.

You’re hurt. Offended, even. You left because of what he did in California, and he has the audacity to feel sorry for himself? “And I’m not?” you say, probably with more venom than appropriate. “Goodbye, Foggy.”

“Wait, hold on!” You don’t know why you don’t hang up, but you stay on the line. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t the right way to start this. How have you been?”

“I’m awful, Foggy. My marriage is done, my heart hurts, I’ve lost the man I love . . . I’ve never been worse.”

“(Y/N) . . . I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, Fog. All this is between me and Matt. It’s why you called, I’m guessing? Get all the answers for what exactly happened between us?”

“That’s between you guys. It’s none of my business or anyone’s. I’ve already ripped Matt a new one for doing what he did, and so did Karen and Frank, but he’s . . .” He stops and lets out a sigh. “Do you remember hearing from Maggie what Matt was like after Midland Circle? Despondent, depressed, borderline suicidal?”

Of course you remember, how could you ever forget? You’ve never seen him like that in your life. But the term “borderline suicidal” makes a pit grow in your stomach as you straighten up.

“He hasn’t tried to—?” you start to ask.

“No, no, that was shitty wording on my part. But Matt’s not himself. It’s like watching a hollow corpse with a temper move about. He either doesn’t care at all, or a little thing will set him off. He’s being reckless on patrol, he’s drinking more than he usually does. I’ve been covering for him at the office, but . . . You need to talk to him.”

You close your eyes, tears rolling down your cheek. “I can’t, Foggy.”

“(Y/N)—.”

“He broke my heart, and I broke his in return. I stomped on it. I love him and I hurt him. If I talked to him . . . That’s salt on the wound for both of us.” More tears stream down your face as you think about it. “We both vowed not to hurt one another. H-He hurt me, but he wanted to fix it. I hurt him and don’t have that same courage to try.”

“Try now,” Foggy pleads. “Try now, help one another. Even if it’s for the last time.”

“O-Okay,” you say before you can realize it.

Foggy breathes a sign of relief. “Come to the loft.”

The loft. The scene of the crime.

You breathe a quiet confirmation before you hang up, taking time to mentally prepare yourself before you grab your purse and leave your sister’s place to talk Matt off whatever ledge he’s currently perched on.

It’s a short trip, and Foggy meets you in the lobby of Matt’s building. He pulls you in for a long hug, and you actively tell yourself not to cry.

“He’s that bad, huh?” you sniffle.

“Yeah,” Foggy sighs. “I’ve never been for him like this before. It’s like he’s not the same person.”

“I know what you mean,” you say quietly. “I haven’t felt like myself since that day.”

Foggy looks at you with a crestfallen expression, and you give him one more hug before you make your way up to the loft.

Your key still works—you’re afraid if you knock, he won’t let you in. Hell, he probably heard you turn the block on your way here and wouldn’t answer out of anger or annoyance. Your stomach churns when you see Matt sitting in the chair. He’s in sweats, his posture is curved, his hair is disheveled, and he’s growing a thick beard. Beer bottles are on the table in front of him mixed with trash.

“Matt?” you breathe, but he remains unmoved. As you move closer toward him, he sits there like a statue, not caring to look your way. “Matt, it’s me.” Still, he doesn’t gaze your way.

Putting your purse in its usual spot, you make your way over to him in the chair, gently cupping his face in your hands to tilt him up toward you. You suck in a small breath when you see the bruises and cuts on his cheeks, nose, and chin. If this is what his face looks like, you can only imagine the other injuries that his clothes are hiding.

“Matt,” you breathe. “What happened?”

He just closes his eyes in shame, starting to turn. You don’t let him, though, bringing his face back to center.

“Matty,” you plea. “Matt, talk to me, sweetheart.”

“You’re not my sweetheart anymore,” he finally says, and it burns like acid. You deserve it—you gave it just as good to him when he came back from California. “And I’m not yours.”

“We didn’t sign any papers yet,” you breathe, trying to lighten the mood as you hold back your own tears. “So, legally, I am.”

Matt peels back from my touch like he’s getting out of an itchy sweater. Okay, you deserve it. You deserve all of it.

“Matt—.”

“You left,” he spits. “You left just like everyone else, even when you swore you wouldn’t.”

You sit back on your heels. It hurts, but it’s the truth. “I did.” He turns back toward you like he’s shocked you actually admitted it. “I didn’t try to hear you out, and I’m sorry. I should’ve. It was . . .”

He turns toward you, ice in his blind gaze. You’ve never seen Matt like, this, and as he starts to slowly rise from his chair, it’s the first time you can say that you’ve ever been afraid of him.

You spring to your feet as well, trying to at least keep things on the same level posture wise.

“Now you’re trying to make things better?” he growls low. “You’re the one that tore it up in front of us. I wanted to stop the breakage, but you readied the wrecking ball. This shit is your mess. It’s like this because of you.”

Now you start to get mad. “Oh, just me? Any breakage that was the breakage that you started. Those images and videos were circulating for two whole days before you came home. I didn’t hear a single word from you—a ‘good morning’ or ‘I’m boarding my plane’ or otherwise. You just showed up here expecting it to all be fine—.”

“You don’t get to assume in this,” he grits, the space between you dangerously nonexistent as one of his hands tightly grab on to your wrist.

“Yes, I can. There’s two people in this mess. I’m saying what it seemed like on my end,” you say, your heart thundering in your chest. Matt wouldn’t hurt you—he’d never do that. But with how his hand is on your arm and the mood he seems to have been in since you left, you’re not entirely confident in that statement anymore.

“You never really knew a damn thing about me, did you?” he frowns. “You just kept a version of Matt Murdock in your head and lived with it this entire time, huh?”

“Maybe I did. Because this isn’t the Matt Murdock I came over to talk to. This is the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. So, if you’re gonna let the Devil out, let him out on me, Murdock. Do your worst.”

“Get the fuck out of here,” he threatens, the muscle in his jaw feathering as he clenches his teeth.

“No. I came here to talk, and that’s what we’re gonna—.”

Before you know it, his hand is off your wrist, wrapping around the neck of a beer bottle before he whizzes it past your head like a threat. You flinch, moving to cover your head before the bottle leaves his hand, and you remain curled as the glass hits something behind you, knocking it over as they both crash to the ground. You slowly turn to see what was caught in the crosshairs—the beer bottle had hit a picture frame, knocking it down off the side table and breaking it. You can tell by the shifts in his body language he immediately regrets it, his shoulders slumping as tears start to sting your eyes. You notice he starts to take a step toward you out of the corner of your eye, but you’re on the move toward the broken picture frame. One of the pictures from our wedding.

Huh, you think. How fitting.

You lower yourself to your knees, carefully picking it up and looking at how your faces were beaming with nothing but joy, how you held onto one another with love . . . and now how it’s the opposite. How you’re broken. You wouldn’t look at him the day you left, and he won’t look at you know. You curl over the photo, freely weeping on the pile of glass. You just want it things to go back to normal.

You hear Matt pad softly over to you, squatting as if he wants to put a hand on your back to soothe you, but he backs away to let you cry. Tears pour out of you like a geyser, a constant flow down your cheeks as you sit alone in the living room. Maybe it was an accident that he hit the picture, but his senses are so sharp . . . maybe he did want to hit it. Maybe he was trying to prove a point. Maybe he wanted to show you that by you leaving, you were the one who put the final nail in the coffin of your marriage.

Maybe he really doesn’t want you anymore. Maybe he stopped wanting you before he went to Los Angeles. Maybe he stopped wanting you a long time ago.

You’re still crying when you hear Matt come back over toward you. Through your limited vision, you watch him clean up the broken glass from the bottle and the frame. It takes him a few trips, but it’s eventually all cleaned up. He leaves again before walking back toward you, holding out a box of tissues. With a shaking hand, you grab one and wipe at your nose, desperately trying to calm yourself.

“This is my favorite picture of us from our wedding,” you sniffle. “This is what I would grab if I could only take one thing from the loft in an emergency. This would be it. And now . . .”

You can’t finish your sentence, just weeping uncontrollably in your little ball on the floor over your two deepest treasures—this photo and your marriage. Shattered.

“Angel . . .” Matt says so softly, so tenderly, you almost forget that your life has essentially imploded.

“This is all my fault,” you cry, spiraling, trying to trace it all back to you, your actions. The big explosive things all seem to have their root in something you can place back to yourself. Matt slept with someone else, but it goes back to something you did— you had a short attention span and a bit of a short fuse before he left because a bunch of shit at work that kept piling up, and you knew he was frustrated . . . how much he hates planes. You egged him on. You did nothing to help, and when he left to go to California, he found someone who understood him in a way you couldn’t. You need an answer for this, and that seems to be it.

“This is my favorite picture of us, and it’s all my fault,” you sniffle, repeating what you said earlier, your chest burning from the tears and hyperventilation.

“It’s just a picture—,” he starts to say softly.

“It’s not just a picture,” you weep. “This, us, it’s all my fault. We’re broken because of me. This is all my fault.”

You hear Matt pad softly over to you, squatting down and taking the picture from your hands, putting it on the arm of a nearby chair before pulling you in for a hug. All you can do is sob against his shoulder as he holds onto you.

“This isn’t because of you,” he tries to soothe, sounding like he’s about to cry as well. “It . . . It was my poor judgement, it was my shortcomings that did this. You’re in the flaming wreckage, and it’s not fair.”

“I just want things how they were,” you sniffle. “I want to come home. I want us to be okay.”

Matt’s silence is terrifying. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt rage like that. Darkness like that,” he says softly. You feel a tear fall from his cheek to the top of you head. “Shit, I grabbed you . . . Fuck, I’m so sorry. I-I would never—(Y/N), please—.”

“I . . . I,” you start. He’d never hurt you. For all his anger, for all his strength, Matt would never hurt you. But when you’re facing off with the man that patrols the streets? The man that brought down Wilson Fisk not once, but twice? You just didn't know.

“I scared you.” Tears are flowing down his cheek. “I could hear your heart race . . . I knew you were scared and for a moment, and I didn’t care. It’s like I wanted you to be scared, and I liked it. I was glad you were scared of me.” He sounds disgusted with himself. “You really thought I was going to hit you.”

“I did. For a moment,” you admit. It catches in your throat, but there’s no use in lying if you’re trying to fix this.

Is that what you came over to do? To fix this?

He lets out a long breath, slumping to the floor. “What happened to us?”

“I . . . I don’t know,” you say. And it’s the truth. You don’t really know how you got to this point. Yes, you know why you walked out, but it’s like there were the small hairline fractures in glass—so fine that you couldn’t see them—and then a hammer came down on it and a million little pieces was left in its wake. But how he sounds . . . you know that tone. When it’s been a rough night on patrol, it coats his words like sap—he’s going into a dark headspace, and when he gets too far in, it’s hard to get him out, and you need to get him out. You move around to carefully sit next to Matt, putting a hand on his forearm. You can feel a thick bandage on his arm before you can process that he winces, so you move to slide your hand in his.

“I know you’d never hurt me,” you breathe. “I know you’d never lay a hand on me like that.”

“But I did, though. If I added more pressure, I could’ve snapped your worst. It would have been easy for me to do.” You see him swallow the lump forming in his throat, his own self-hatred inflating at a dangerous rate. “I was full of rage. You were scared of me.”

“I’m scared of all of this,” you admit, your voice small. “What’s happening to us. How it’s effecting you and me. We’re . . . We’re not ourselves. I-I don’t recognize either of us. I don’t like it. I want things back how they were.”

“But they can’t go back.” He sounds broken, hollow—just how you feel.

“Are . . . Are we too far gone?” you ask just above a whisper, terrified of the answer.

“I don’t want us to be.”

You hang your head. “I haven’t been sleeping,” you admit. “It doesn’t feel right without you, your arms around me.”

He places a gently hand on your chin, lifting your face up and wiping tears off of your cheeks before pulling you in for a hug. It feels like warmth. Like love. “I can’t sleep in the bed. It smells like you, and with you gone . . . I just patrol all night.”

It’s like when you think your heart can’t break any more, it does. “I still feel so upset, but, I feel hollow more than anything. Like part of me is missing.”

“I’m sorry,” he breathes. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too. I-I’m so sorry.” He kisses the top of your head. “I should’ve listened, I shouldn’t have left like that, but I was just so upset. I couldn’t be around you without feeling like screaming or crying or both.”

“We . . . We can get through this. Can’t we?”

You think about it. Is this something you can do? You’ve been through worse— you’ve seen him near death more times than you would like, you’ve seen how the toll of Daredevil and the stress of being an attorney wear him down. Even the debate on how we should bring up our children should you choose to have them strained you both. But your happiness, your life together, it’s bigger than your low points. It has to be.

It has to be.

Right?

Permanent Taglist: @majesticavenger @steampowerednightvaler @themusingsofmany @just-the-hiddles @toozmanykids @dangertoozmanykids101 @clints-worldavengers @theburningbookshop @itwasthereaminuteago @peter1ismybrother @hellskitchens-whore @dpaccione @catnip987 @blackhawkfanatic

Matt Murdock Taglist: @two-unbeatable-beaters @loves0phelia

49 notes · View notes