#under the lightest of pressure

[patfr8]

[Movie Lore once more] [Post Sonic 3] [Long(?)]

We all agree the boys suffered a lot when Tom was in the hospital. In a way, they all think they could have done something more. Now, as always, I will focus this point on my favourite boy, Knuckles.

He is a protector, a guardian, doesn’t matter where or when. Not the games, not the comics, not the movies. No one can change that. He’s the guardian of the emerald, yes, but he’s also the guardian of his friends, of his family. And now someone he sees as the patriarch of his new tribe is severely wounded to the point that they thought he wouldn’t make it. The same one that accepted him even though he caused so much trouble to his kid and his town. Knuckles respects Tom.

After so long of being alone, he has somewhere to go. He has a family. They will never replace what he lost, it’s new. Just that. New. And suddenly, almost broken. He had to fight his brother, make sure his other brother was fine, suppress his own emotions for their sake. All without knowing if they would make it out alive.

When everything is done, he is exhausted, but has to take care of them. He is the only one that can. The guardian. They arrive at the hospital. Tom will be fine, the patriarch is fine. His brothers rest along side their father Tom. But he can’t.

Knuckles is anxious, and doesn’t even know why. Is it because of the emerald? No, if he found it once, he can do it again. And he doesn’t care that much now. Honestly, if it were up to him, he would destroy it. His past self would have killed him for just thinking about it, but now? He just wishes it had never been created to begin with. So no, it is not the issue. But then, what is?

Who is he kidding, he knows. He is the issue. If only he hadn’t broken the control pad, they could have gotten their hands on the card. Maybe Shadow and the Robotniks would have found another way to get it back, but at least Tom wouldn’t be hurt. He would be fine. They would have defeated them together. But no, he had to be a complete idiot, destroying it like that. If anyone was to blame, it was him.

He thought of it. Deeply. It would have been the second father he lost because of his negligence But what could he do now? He was hopeless. After everything, it was his fault.

Knuckles goes to the roof. The people let him. Maddie has already warned them that it was fine. He could glide after all. And a fall like that wouldn’t kill him. Almost nothing did. He sometimes wishes it wasn’t true.

Knuckles thinks. And he cries. Because he failed at the only thing he was supposed to be good at: protecting those he loved. He almost lost his father again. An intrusive thought came through his mind.

“If only it had been me the one to explode and not Shadow… everyone would have preferred it anyway. A powerful ally, not a broken… me”

[akkivee]

she wasn't the best mama

but she was kuukou's

[babygray]

I’m praying that my foot will stop hurting enough for me to sleep because it making it hard to do anything other than writhe about and curse the air blue.

[penelopepine]

Little Kicks

141 reacts to feeling the baby kick for the first time. 

Price: 

It's late at night and Price is helping you with your nightly routine. He helped with rubbing some soothing cream onto stomach; it was something he honestly looked forward to every night now. To feel your pregnant stomach under his palm is something he would never deny himself; not even for a second.

The bedroom is quiet; your eyes are closed and clearly enjoying his touch. At least that was until you suddenly wince in pain. Immediately Price is on alert, "What's wrong, sweetheart?"

"Just-," you gasp and wince again, "Just the baby kicking me. "

Price releases a relieved breath hearing those words. He knows the little one has been more active as of late, and that the one light taps are slowly but surely getting harder.

"Here give me your hand! With how hard she's kicking inside there you might be able to feel it now."  

With your words Price reaches out and puts his hand on your stomach once more. He spreads his palm out wide hoping to feel even the lightest tap. And eventually after a few seconds he does! He can feel his baby girl kick his hand. 

Looking at you he sees that you have the softest smile on your face as you watch him. You know that this has been something he had been waiting for ever since you first mentioned it. He couldn’t help, but think how this was all he had ever wanted. Price wouldn’t change this moment for anything in the world. 

He moves himself up on the bed towards you, and pulls you into his arms. Doing so he makes sure to have one hand pressed on stomach as he whispers praises in your ear. 

Gaz: 

Gaz is in the living room building some furniture for the baby’s room when a gasp followed by a loud thud of something hitting the ground. He is immediately calling your name, and rushing to find you. 

Once in the kitchen he sees you standing in the middle of the room. You're obviously in pain, but you have a wide smile on your face. A tupperware container sits on the ground; the lip Is still on and luckily nothing spilled out onto the floor.

"What! What is it? Is everything alright?" Gaz quickly asks, coming to stand right in front of you. 

 "Give me your hand!" You excitedly exclaim while reaching for his hand and placing it on your stomach. 

 Confusion and worry quickly leaves him as he feels a sudden pressure press up against his palm. "Is that-?"

"It is!"

Gaz drops to his knees; his hand never leaves its spot. He loves you so much, and this pregnancy has only strengthened that bond he has with you. 

Everything in this moment is perfect, and he can't believe his life has turned out like this. How he ended up with you he'll never know, but he'll forever be glad he did. Gaz gives your stomach a kiss before rising to his feet, and leading you to the couch. All he wants to do right now is hold his family in his arms. 

Soap: 

Soap had his head right on top of your stomach as he talked to you and baby about how he couldn't wait for them to be born, and everything he had planned after that. When Soap had found out you were pregnant he was ecstatic, and would talk to the baby any chance he could. 

While doing so this time though a hard pressure hits him on his check. You gasp at the same time Soap jerks his head up to meet your eyes.

"Did she-?

"Was that-?"

You both say at the same time before focusing back on your stomach. Soap is immediately placing his head back on your stomach; waiting for the baby to kick him again. 

"Do it again, little lass, do it again!" He whispers repeatedly to the baby.

It only takes him a few short moments for it to happen again, and when it does Soap lets out an excited laugh. 

"I think she likes your voice." You affectionately mention to him while running your fingers through his hair. 

"Aye, just like her mama!" Soap reaches up and grabs your hand that's in his hair and brings it closer to him to give it a kiss before returning it where it once was. This right here was his favorite way to relax when home. 

Ghost: 

In the middle of the night Ghost feels you wiggling in his arms. Your pregnancy had been affecting your sleep so this was pretty normal, but before he can pull you closer to him he hears your pained wheeze. Instantly he’s wide awake and calling out to you. 

“Love, what’s wrong?” 

“The baby,” you gasp, “the baby is apparently wanting to be a football player, and decided that now is the perfect time to practice.” 

The relief he feels from those words are instantaneous. He hates that you’re in pain, but he would rather this than the worst possible scenario. “I’m sorry, love. Is there anything I can do for you?”

“Can you talk to her? She always calms down when you do.” You sleepily ask him. 

And he does; if simply talking is what it takes to help both of his girls then he will do so. Leaning down towards your stomach he places one hand on it, and starts to speak. What surprises him though is that when he does he feels a light punch against his palm. 

That was the baby he realized. He felt her. A wave of love overflows inside of him, and for a second he thinks surely this can’t be real. There is no way his life has turned into something this perfect. 

[colormepurplex2]

Shatter With Me | JJK

▻ Shatter With Me ↳ Model!Jungkook x Surrogate!f.Reader ⤜ Surrogacy AU ⤜ Best Friend’s Husband | smut, fluff, heavy angst ⤜ Rating: MA ⤜ WC: ~46,420 (ongoing) ⤜ Summary: Your best friend, Jiyoon, and her husband, Jungkook, have faced years of hardship trying to start a family. In a last-ditch effort to have their dream life, they seek solace in surrogacy. Wanting to see your best friend smile, you offer to become the bright beacon at the end of the tunnel, giving them what they have always wanted. But what happens when you begin to shine your light on their darkness? Things aren’t always as they seem—happiness can be a façade, shattering under the lightest pressure. ⚠️ Crass language, talk of infertility, drinking, very mild bullying and references to cruel behavior/words, talk of surrogacy, at-home medical procedure, genital touching (non-sexual), planned pregnancy, talk of pregnancy termination/abortion, BIG hurt feelings, open palm slapping, accusations of infidelity, rejected/unwanted drunken kissing that could be viewed as dubious infidelity, lies/deceit about fertility, broken marriage, infidelity, talk of divorce/filing for divorce, legal separation, kissing, fingering, cunnilingus, mild dirty talk, mild begging, sex while pregnant, creampie Each chapter will have specific warnings listed as they're posted.

Chapter 1: Waving The White Flag

Chapter 2: Please, Let Me

Epilogue: Room 613

Wretched Heart: Jiyoon's POV (bonus chapter ongoing)

This story will be completed with the bonus POV chapter.

A/N: Part of the @btsfests Daddy's Home writing fest!

A/N: A special thank you to @hisunshiine @downbad4yoongi @lo1k-diamonds and @lunarelle1013 for their unfailing beta services!

Can also be found on: Ao3 | Wattpad

◅ Back to Main Master List ©️   2024-03  ColorMePurplex2

[quarterlifekitty]

I mean this in the most polite, respectful, do only as you wish under zero pressure, way - I am FERAL for dog Johnny and am drooling and begging for more pretty please and thank you ignore my hybrid kink standing in the corner it’s fine we’re fine…unless you don’t want to :)

Uuuuuuuhhhhhhuuu let me start by saying I owe my dog soap illness to such pillars of the community as @boolger and @frogchiro so never forget that they walked so I could crawl around leaving a snail trail with my pussy.

cw: hybrid stuff

Dunno about you but I know my brain chemistry was permanently altered by lady and the tramp when I was a child. I never stood a chance.

So imagine Stray!Soap and Lady!Reader. He sees you every so often. On walks, laying your head in your owner’s lap as he reads the paper on the porch, scratching your ear, playing in the yard with your other owner as she tends to the garden.

Soap sniffs around in your yard at night, just the lightest traces of your scent drive him a little crazy. He decides to wait around— see if he can meet the little house-princess when she comes out in the mornings.

You have no idea what to make of him. He thinks it’s cute how your ears perk as you inspect him. No collar. Not like you— with your shiny little heart-shaped tag. You’re a little wary, but you figure there’s no harm in him being in the neighborhood.

And you know how it is with Soap. You give an inch, he’ll take a mile.

So he’ll wait right by the door near every damned morning. Just to say hello to the little lady. Smitten as can be.

Heehee and what if you had neighbors, also. Bloodhound!Price. Russian terrier! Or Newfoundland!Nikolai who’ve watched you become a young lady, and warn you to watch out for young dogs like Soap. Always a mess of trouble… you should be with someone who knows enough to look after you. Someone older, maybe. Not some young tramp looking to knot any pretty thing he can sink his teeth into…

[hoshifighting]

        vernon + food play

— vernon doesn't waste food, and there was whipped cream left over from the strawberry cake your two were baking

WARNINGS: +18, smut, nipple play, food play, fingering, eating strawberries, smut under the cut.

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST

you’ve never been one for patience, and vernon knows it. hell, he’s probably counting on it right now,

given the way he’s watching you, slow as ever, sitting at the edge of the bed while you’re lying there like a damn buffet. two perfect mounds of whipped cream on your nipples, and his eyes haven’t left them since he put them there, a quiet little smirk pulling at the corner of his lips like he knows exactly how close you are to losing it.

“you wanna strawberry?” his voice is soft, teasing, and you narrow your eyes at him, your cheeks heating up even though this isn’t the first time you’ve found yourself spread out for him like this. something about how casual he is, like this is an everyday thing, gets to you every time. the lightest tap of your hand against his shoulder makes him laugh, low and lazy, before he picks up a strawberry, holding it between his lips, waiting for you.

you nod, biting down just as he inches closer. the burst of sweetness hits your tongue, but all you can focus on is the heat of his breath as he leans in closer, licking a trail of whipped cream off your breast like he’s savoring every second of it. “fuck,” you murmur, body tensing under his touch. he’s slow, too slow, the way his tongue swirls around the peak of your nipple, lapping up the cream until there’s nothing left but the warm wetness of his mouth, lips wrapping around your sensitive skin.

"you taste good, baby," he mutters, his fingers tracing light patterns down your stomach, making you squirm. his voice drips with amusement, like he’s enjoying your reactions way too much, knowing exactly what he’s doing. his hand slides lower, fingertips brushing between your thighs, and your breath hitches, hips lifting involuntarily towards his touch.

“vernon,” you groan, impatient as ever, but he just laughs again, his fingers dipping between your folds, finding you soaked and desperate. “i swear to god im already so, if you don’t—” your words cut off with a gasp as he presses a finger inside, slowy, like he’s testing how far he can push you before you lose it.

“relax, babe,” he mumbles, his mouth returning to your chest, licking up the remaining cream, tongue flicking over your nipples until you’re a mess of whimpers beneath him. his fingers curl inside you, hitting that spot that makes your whole body shudder, and you can barely keep still, your legs trembling, his name slipping from your lips repeatedly.

he adds another finger, pumping in and out of you, and your hands fist into the sheets, trying to ground yourself, but it’s no use. the pressure’s building too fast, too strong, and you can feel yourself melting. “fuck, vernon—i’m close.”

“i know,” he says, smug as hell, lips ghosting over your belly now, his fingers working you faster, his other thumb circling your clit in time with each thrust. you’re shaking, thighs clamping around his wrist, but he doesn’t stop, doesn’t slow down. his eyes lock onto yours, and you love how he holds the gaze as your whole body tenses, and the next thing you know, you’re crying out, back arching off the bed, your orgasm swiping you from your feet, making you squeeze his forearm that continues pumping you.

you’re panting, barely able to catch your breath, and yet he doesn’t let up, his fingers still moving, milking every last drop of your cum until you’re squirming away, too sensitive, too much. but then he leans down, his tongue tracing a line over your belly, licking up the remnants of the whipped cream like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted.

“holy shit,” you breathe, still coming down from the high, your body still shaking.

he smirks, clearly satisfied with himself, and leans in close, lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, “want more whipped cream, or you done?”

“we still have it?” your eyes shine slightly.

“actually no, but i can definitely buy some more down the street.” he raises up, ready to do it if you say yes.

[marauroon]

I heard asks are open?! Can you please, pretty please, with a cherry on top, write something where the reader has chronic pain and is going through a really bad crash+flare up? And maybe this happens right after the full moon, so Remus is also really under the weather. So, James and Sirius are taking care of them? The bit with it being the full moon is 100% optional. I'm just dying from a flare-up and for someone to dote on me and take care of me right now, haha.

𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐭 𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬. (𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐲.𝐦)

james and sirius never hesitate to amp up the tlc when you and remus are having a tough time.

poly!marauders x gn!reader | 1.2k | h/c | masterlist.

You're already awake when you hear the front door open.

Well, “awake” might be too generous a word. You've been drifting in and out for what feels like hours, wrapped in a fog of pain and exhaustion.

The air in the bedroom is heavy with it, pressing against your ribs like a weighted blanket. Your body feels like lead, every nerve raw, every muscle clenched and aching. It’s been a long night.

A really long night.

The kind where sleep is just another thing your body refuses to cooperate with, where no position is comfortable, where you count the hours in the slow, creeping throb of your pulse in your joints.

You squeeze your eyes shut at the sound of soft voices and the rustling of coats, hoping—just for a second—that they'll let you be. Not because you don’t want them. You do. But you also don’t want to be a burden, don’t want to be another weight on their shoulders, not when you know they already have their hands full.

But James and Sirius have never been particularly good at leaving you alone when you're hurting.

The bedroom door creaks open. You don’t have to look to know it's them. You can smell the fresh air on their clothes, the damp scent of early morning rain. James, predictably, has already kicked off his shoes—he hates wearing them inside. Sirius, less predictably, is quiet. Normally, he'd beeline for the bed, flopping on top of you like an overgrown puppy. Today, though, he's careful.

“Hey, sweetheart,” James murmurs, voice low and warm as he comes around to your side of the bed. His hand is gentle as he brushes a stray strand of hair from your forehead. “How’re you feeling?”

You make a noise that isn't really an answer. It’s as much as you can manage.

James hums, fingers brushing lightly over your skin. “That bad, huh?”

You don't respond, but you don’t need to. You know the answer is written all over your face.

On the other side of the bed, you hear Sirius sigh, the mattress dipping as he perches on the edge. His fingers graze your arm, and you shiver at the touch. Not because it's unpleasant—Sirius is always warm—but because even the lightest pressure sends sharp, aching pain rippling through your body.

He must feel the way you tense, because he pulls back immediately. “Sorry, love,” he says, softer than usual. There's a strain in his voice, something tight and frustrated. Not at you—never at you—but at the situation, at the way he can’t fix this for you.

You force your eyes open, just a crack. “‘S okay,” you rasp, voice hoarse from disuse. “Just... hurts,”

James makes a quiet, sympathetic noise, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. His lips are warm, and for just a moment, you let yourself lean into it, into him.

“Have you eaten?” he asks.

You shake your head. The thought of food makes your stomach turn.

“Drink anything?” Sirius presses, frowning.

Another shake of the head.

“Alright,” James says, rolling up the sleeves of his jumper. “We can work with that,”

You blink at him, sluggish. “M’not hungry,”

James just grins, undeterred. “You say that now, but give me ten minutes. You know I can work miracles,”

You do know. And if you had the energy, you’d roll your eyes at him. Instead, you just let your gaze drift closed again.

James presses another kiss to your temple before he slips away, heading for the kitchen. You listen to his footsteps retreating down the hall, the clatter of cupboards opening. Sirius stays.

He's still quiet. Too quiet.

It takes effort, but you turn your head just enough to look at him. He's paler than usual, dark circles bruising the delicate skin beneath his eyes. His hair is a mess—well, more of a mess than usual—and there’s a cut just above his eyebrow that looks fresh.

“Were you out all night?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper.

Sirius huffs out a breath that might be a laugh, but there’s no real amusement in it. “Yeah,” he admits. "Moony had it rough,”

Right. The full moon.

You turn your head a little more, your sluggish brain finally catching up. “Remus? Is he okay?”

“He’s alright, gorgeous,” Sirius says. “Miserable, but alright. We’ve set him up on the sofa,”

That explains the exhaustion clinging to him, the way he’s more subdued than usual.

You reach for him without thinking, a slow, clumsy movement. Your fingers barely graze his wrist before he catches your hand, wrapping his fingers around yours. His grip is warm and solid, grounding.

“I hope he’s okay,” you mumble.

Sirius lets out a soft sigh. “He’ll be fine, James ‘nd I will take care of him, don’t worry,”

But he doesn’t argue when you tug weakly at his arm, urging him to lie down. He just kicks off his jeans and crawls into bed beside you, careful as he curls around your body, keeping his touch light.

The warmth of him is immediate, seeping into your bones, easing some of the tension in your muscles. You breathe him in, the familiar scent of leather and smoke and something distinctly Sirius. He exhales slowly against your shoulder, and you can feel some of the tension in his own body unwind.

James returns not long after, balancing a tray with one hand, a glass of water in the other, Remus following behind him with heavy, uncoordinated movements.

“Breakfast in bed for my loves,” he announces, far too cheerful for the hour. “Because I am, in fact, the best boyfriend in the world,”

Sirius snorts against your shoulder before vacating his place at your side to help Remus into the bed instead. “Bit early to be handing out awards, don’t you think?”

James ignores him, setting the tray down on the nightstand. You blink at the contents—toast, tea, something that smells vaguely like soup. Simple, easy. Your stomach churns at the thought, but you know James. He won’t push, but he won’t let you get away with nothing, either.

“Just a little,” he coaxes, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Two bites, at least. Humour me, okay?”

You sigh. “Fine,”

It’s slow going, but James is patient, coaxing the two of you into a few bites, a few sips of tea. Sirius is quick to doze beside you, his breath even and steady against your skin, a comfortable heat from his and Remus’ bodies radiating against your skin.

And for the first time all night, the pain doesn’t feel quite so overwhelming.

[dragonnarrative-writes]

Transferrable Skills Part 7

Transferrable Skills Masterlist

Read on AO3

CW: Smut, 18+/MDNI, CMNF (clothed male naked female), continued hamstring stretches (advised by the appropriate medical professional), praise, kissing, manual stimulation/fingering, touching under clothes, explicit consent, dirty talk

The noise you make would be embarrassing if you couldn’t feel the effect it has on him, see the way his pupils almost swallow his irises. With your calves over one shoulder, he pulls your underwear clear. You expect him to toss them aside, but instead, he places them down gently next to your hip.

Then, he parts your legs to let the left one fall back to drape over his leg. Your your face gets hot when you hear how wet you are. Simon makes an interested noise, getting your left leg back into position as he pets lightly over the hair you’d thankfully groomed before your trip. His thumb dips down to just barely brush over the hood of your clit.

“Already so wet f’ me,” he rumbles. “Set your hips. Good girl.” As he straightens your leg, he shifts his own hips and makes room for his hand between you. The breath hisses out of him when his fingers slide across where you’re wet and wanting. “Fuck. Tell me you want it.”

“I want it,” you whimper, resisting the urge to roll your hips into the barely there touch. “Green. Green, Simon, please, I want it.”

He doesn’t make you ask again, just lets a thick finger sink in ever so slowly. His thumb rubs soft and slow, using your wetness to glide gently over your clit. You try not to moan too loudly, to hear the way he huffs into the side of your calf. For once, he’s not staring at you. Instead, his eyes are closed, breaths shallow as his finger pulses inside of you, almost metronome steady.

The heat that’s been pooling in your belly spills into the rest of your body. You can’t help but squeeze around him, once. He’s so gentle that you can feel yourself soften and open for him, until the friction is nothing but the shivery, slow ascent toward your peak. You don’t resist the urge to tip your head back with a soft sound.

After a few long moments, you flutter your eyes open. When you look at Simon, you notice the slightest tremble in his shoulders. His head is tipped down, but you can see tension in his neck, though there’s only the lightest pressure where his temple meets the leg that is still over his shoulder.

You touch the top of his thigh, surprised by how rigid he’s holding himself. “Simon?”

“Mm?” His voice is just as soft as his muscles aren’t.

Your voice comes out just as quiet. “You okay?”

The hum he gives you is noncommittal. But he keeps petting you inside and out, steady and distracting. Three fingers on his other hand tap two times. He needs some time to think, to center himself.

Did you do something to upset him? You try to sit up to speak to him. Before you can get an elbow under yourself, he squeezes his fingers toward each other, a sudden, staggering pressure that makes you fall back with a yelp. You try to twist away, but as gentle as he is, you can’t break his hold on your leg - or between your legs.

“Settle,” he rumbles, pinning you with a heated look from beneath his lashes. He starts petting over your raised thigh. “’M okay, Bambi. Ready?”

You almost say yes. Your whole body wants nothing more but to melt into him. But… “A-are you sure?”

“’F course,” His whole face softens when he smiles. “Mos’ beautiful woman in the world ‘s in bed wi’ me. Tryin’ no’ to mess my pants like a green boy.”

You end up swallowing whatever you might say to that when he curls his thick finger back up to make quick, hard strokes against your g-spot. Even as a part of you starts purring with the knowledge that he’s so undone for you, you feel yourself start to come apart at the seams.

Simon straightens your leg, asking, “Number?” Which isn’t fair of him. You have to consciously resist the building tension in your body, resist chasing the orgasm that is building ever so slowly.

“Number, Bambi,” he prompts you again, with mean pressure over your clit.

He’s barely putting any strain on your leg, just holding your it up. “Two,” you gasp. “One and a half.”

He leans forward, just a fraction, with a grin. “Now?”

“Three-ee!” you yelp as his fingers speed up.

He holds you there, watching as you struggle to relax into the stretch. Each time you start to tense into the pleasure, he slows his ministrations, just a little. Just enough to pull you back from the edge. You want to curse him out, you want to cry. It’s agony just as much as a reward, a slow syrupy pleasure that makes everything a little fuzzy around the edges.

“Doin’ so good, Bambi,” he rumbles, what you suspect is much longer than 30 seconds later. “Ready for the other one?”

You give into the urge to arch your back as he adjusts you. Your voice is so soft you’re not sure he’ll hear you when you ask, “C’n I have more?”

Simon hums as he adjusts you to drape your other calf over his shoulder. “Ask me nice.”

Your whole body feels warm and soft and pliant. “Please, Simon, can I have another finger?”

“’F course,” he coos. He straightens your leg. It’s the barest hint of pressure. You whine as his finger withdraws, then settle when he pets at you with two. “Askin’ so nice. C’n ‘ave whatever you want.”

He pushes in, slowly, before he adjusts your leg, and you’re grateful. His hands are so large, and you appreciate them in a new way, now. His fingers are so thick you have to take a few deep breaths to let him in fully. You can feel the groan that scrapes its way out of his chest. Your own hands seek his thighs, clenching the cloth of his sweatpants in a shaky fist as he pushes your leg where it needs to go.

He doesn’t seem to need your input this time, pushing your leg just to where you need it. Or maybe he did ask, but you’re too focused on the gentle and implacable way he caresses you inside to hear him. He barely has to move to devastate you. Before, you had to try not to tense around him. Now? You’re not sure you have any command over your body. You’re at his mercy, the most serene you’ve ever been.

You can’t stop the noises you make when he starts moving again, little whines and moans that he echoes. The climax that has been building inches closer with every beat of his fingers. When he sets your leg back down, you only notice because he leans forward to brace his hand next to your shoulder.

“Good girl,” he rumbles, and the hand between your legs gets so insistent that you have to gasp for breath. “Good girl, Bambi. Tha’s it. You wan’ to come, pretty girl?”

“Si-mon,” you hiccup, turning your head to mouth at his wrist.

“Yeah, you wan’ it,” he rumbles, ducking down to pant against your cheekbone as he works his hand. “You c’n ‘ave it, beautiful, take your reward. Come f’ me, now. C’mon.”

Before Simon, you’d never been able to come on command. After a few months, his voice could coax you to you peak with a little preparation. Now, with his lips brushing your skin and his presence filling your senses?

You couldn’t resist him if you wanted to.

The orgasm feels like it’s torn from behind your belly button. You can barely breathe for how it rolls through you. If Simon wasn’t caging you in, you might shake apart. As it is, you grasp at him however you can, trembling and crying out in ways you’re barely aware of. His voice anchors you through it, rasped encouragement and snarled affection that you can’t understand.

It takes all of your strength to turn your head to catch his lips with yours. Simon takes over, immediately, perfectly, and you give in to him with a panting moan. He steals your remaining breath, but also starts to gentle you down, hand and fingers gentling from earth-shattering movement to something so slow and gentle that your hips chase the echoes of sensation. He lets you. The way he kisses you, you think he really would give you anything you want.

[heauxvibez]

Weak

Kind of a plot but not really

warning: short and slight smut (18+)

Pressed against his towering figure, I felt like a mere speck under him, dwarfed by his presence. The soft glow of the moonlight shined through the window, casting an ethereal silver sheen across the room. It danced over his features, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw, the curve of his lips, and the coarse beard that framed his face. It was giving him such a Godly look.

The gentle light seemed to caress his skin, the same way I wanted to but knew that I couldn't.

Despite avoiding him for weeks, I finally allowed him in, and now he's here, standing in my living room with me pinned against the wall.

Even the lightest brush of his hand was enough to send me spiraling into a dizzying whirlwind—something my boyfriend could never do.

I wore a delicate satin nightgown, the lace trim soft against my skin, the fabric so thin that with every move he made, I could feel the faintest breeze of his shifting stir the air around me, caressing my body.

The sensation was mind-numbing, and I couldn’t help the way my nipples tightened in response, the fabric grazing against them only making me more aroused.

"Roman, this isn't what I expected when you said you wanted to talk," I protested, my voice cracking under pressure. His hands rested on both sides of my head pressed against the wall. His eyes searched my face, attempting to look into mine. Although I avoided his eyes, mine still found a way to look at every other feature of his.

God, he looked so damn good. His hair and beard were freshly lined and neatly trimmed, the crisp edges making him look effortlessly sharp. The specks of gray sprinkled throughout his beard only made him even more irresistible. His hair, usually perfectly styled, was slicked back into a slightly messy bun as if he’d hurriedly thrown it together. A few loose tendrils had escaped near his ears, softening his rugged look.

I could tell he hadn’t wasted any time getting here, rushing to make the most of our limited time. The thought of him dropping everything to be with me only made me want him even though I knew it was messed up.

With every subtle shift of my head, trying to avoid his piercing gaze, he mirrored my movements effortlessly, ensuring there was no escape from his stare. I knew that with just one look, he could have me completely under his control—wrapped around his finger.

His tongue flicked teasingly across his bottom lip, the motion slow and seductive, while his breaths came out deep and filled the space between us.

"Baby girl, there's no denying you want me. Your eyes, your body language—it's all begging for me to touch you," he whispered once he finally caught my gaze. His rough hands slipped under my gown, his finger softly brushed up and down against my thigh. My body betrayed me, responding to his every caress. My clit jumped and throbbed without effort.

"N-no... you're wrong," I stammered. His touch was like a flame against my skin, wanting to consume me entirely.

“Am I?” His breath hitched in his throat as his hand slowly slid higher up the side of my thigh, fingers grazing my skin in a teasing rhythm. They danced lightly around my hip, barely touching, just enough to make me shiver. He was so close now, his lips hovering dangerously near mine, the heat of his breath mixing with my own as he towered over me.

With a smug smirk playing at the corners of his mouth, his grip tightened suddenly on my hip, his fingers digging in just enough to hold me in place. The pressure was firm, almost possessive. My trembling halted while his hold kept me steady. I just knew he was enjoying watching me unravel beneath him.

"Can he handle these curves of yours?" he asked, his voice low as his hand moved slowly from my hip, tracing the curve of my body. His fingers slid down to the cuff of my ass, lingering there for a moment before he gave it a firm squeeze. The way he gripped me sent a jolt of indescribable feelings to my core, and I couldn't ignore the sexy grunt that escaped his lips as he did it.

It was as if he couldn’t help himself, the feel of my body in his hand making him just as weak as he was making me.

"I know I can," he whispered as he answered his own question cockily.

“Roman, please don’t do this to me right now. He’ll be back soon,” I pleaded, my voice trembling just like my body. But my words seemed meaningless, falling on deaf ears as his hands continued their slow, exploration of every inch of my body. I couldn’t ignore the way he was making me feel, no matter how much I wanted to.

My hands lifted and pressed weakly against his chest, but there was no real intent to push him away. I could feel the solid warmth of his body beneath my palms, the steady rise and fall of his breath, and with each passing second, I felt myself crumbling. My mind screamed at me to stop, to do the right thing, but my body had already betrayed me, submitting to the intoxicating pull of his touch.

Despite knowing what was right and wrong, I couldn’t fight the way my heart raced or the way my skin tingled under his fingertips. All these sensations running through my body blurred the lines between the moral and the forbidden.

"Good. I hope he walks in and learns how he's supposed to please you," he murmured. With a deft touch and his words, he nearly brought me to the brink of ecstasy.

"Tell me everything I want to hear, and you'll get what you want, baby,"

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

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[shiorimakibawrites]

Relax (Daredevil Fan Fic)

Inspired by the above gif and that shower scene in the leaked Daredevil: Born Again trailer. Then given life by the enabling of Murdock's Tuna Team.

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem! Reader Word Count: ~3500 Warnings: Black Suit Daredevil, Explicit sexual content including shower sex, dirty talk, masturbation, sexual fantasies (binding, male receiving oral sex, edging, p in v sex), oral sex (f receiving), vaginal fingering, unprotected p in v sex, rough sex, multiple orgasms, clothed sex (one partner naked), marking Summary: After a long day, you tried to relax in the shower. General Masterlist / Matt Murdock Masterlist Tags: @loves0phelia, @nowheredreamer, @beezusvreeland, @sleepysleepymom, @bellaxgiornata, @yarrystyleeza AO3 Link

Relax

You closed the door behind you. It was such a relief to be home. Your day had been terrible. The computer at work kept having problems. To the point that you had been sorely tempted to throw it out the window. Your office was five stories up. It would make a very satisfying crash when it hit the ground . . . well, satisfying until you got fired for destroying office property.

Your boss wasn’t very sympathetic about the delays. And that was putting it mildly. It soon became just as tempting to defenestrate her along with the computer. After all, you knew a really good lawyer . . . But in the end, you gritted your teeth and restrained yourself.

At least you weren’t the only one she had been an absolute nightmare to. The poor kid from IT had also gotten it from barrels.

It eventually got fixed but not before you had to cancel your lunch plans with Matt. Had to warn him that you were probably working late.

And you had. Not as late as you feared but late enough that you were certain that you had missed Matt. Again.

The journey home after work did nothing to improve your mood. Today had been unbearably hot and humid. The sun might have gone down but the temperature hadn’t. It didn’t take long to start sweating. Not for the first time, you wished your office didn’t have such a strict dress code. Even your lightest weight suit was too warm for this weather.

As expected, the apartment was empty and silent. But you couldn’t say that Matt’s absence from the apartment wasn’t a disappointment. You wanted a hug. You had a shitty day. You were tired. You were frustrated. Your feet hurt. You felt the pressure in your temples that signaled an oncoming migraine. You could really use the comfort of having Matt’s strong arms around you, his deep voice murmuring sweet nothings in your ear.

Or dirty promises, your mind suggested. Your husband was equally good at both. But what made his dirty promises so effective was that you knew they weren’t idle boosting. He always delivered. You vividly remembered the one he had made on your wedding night.

What I want, Mrs. Murdock, is for you to ruin these sheets. So I’m going to bury my face in that beautiful pussy until you can’t walk tomorrow.

And he had. To this day, you have no idea how many orgasms it was. There were at least four but after that it started to get hazy.

You squeezed your thighs together. Just the memory of that night was enough to awaken a familiar ache between your legs. If Matt was here, he’d be giving you that knowing smirk.

Assuming the reek of drying sweat didn’t put him off entirely. Maybe you should take a shower . . . Yeah, a shower sounded good. It would help relax you after such a terrible day and you wouldn’t stink when your husband returned. Win-win.

You kicked off your heels, nudging them under the bench next to Matt’s leather shoes with your foot. Your briefcase and purse, you just dropped onto one of the living room chairs. The one that had the jacket and tie Matt had worn this morning draped across the back. It was joined by your own suit jacket, then you made a beeline for the bathroom.

You turned on the water, then adjusted the temperature to your preference. Peeling off your clothes was so satisfying . . . especially your bra. Taking off your bra was usually one of the best things about coming home but today? Getting the sweaty thing off felt particularly good. You dropped it in with the rest of your clothes piled in the corner. Another thing to tidy up later.

You groaned in relief when you stepped under the spray. The heat immediately began seeping into your muscles. You hadn’t realized just how tighter you were in your neck and upper back until it started to loosen. Truly, hot water on tap was one of human civilization’s greatest luxuries.

You had ignored your earlier arousal while you washed but afterward, your cunt reminded you that it had been a while you and Matt had had sex. Well, a while for the two of you. Technically a week wasn’t all that long. But it sure felt like it to your cunt which had gotten used to regular attention.

Inevitably your mind slipped back to the last time you had gotten that attention. Sunday morning, just before things decided to get hectic. You had woken up to Matt kissing your neck. You rolled over and kissed him. The kiss was soft despite the very eager cock pressed tightly against your ass. His hands had been just as gentle, almost reverent in their exploration. Slowly building the heat until he slide inside you with one of those beautiful moans. His pace remained unhurried, slowly fucking . . . no, making love to you until you were almost sobbing. There was no almost about it, when he ate you out afterward.

Your cunt clenched desperately around nothing. It wanted Matt . . . but Matt wasn’t here . . . . you could wait for his return but who knows when that would be . . . sometimes Matt was out there until the wee hours of the morning. You couldn’t wait that long. You needed some relief now.

The decision to slip your hand between your thighs wasn’t hard. You moaned at the feeling. It had been a long time since you had last touched yourself. Matt was more than happy to take care of your needs . . . And it seemed like every time you touched yourself in front of him, he couldn’t keep his hands to himself for long . . . maybe you should tie him up . . .

You worked a single finger into yourself . . . it was a pretty picture. Matt spread out on the bed, naked save for the ropes binding his hands above his head. Unable to touch you while you did whatever you wanted to him. You could trace every muscle, first with your fingertips, then with your mouth, slowly making your way to his cock. 

Or maybe, you thought biting your lip as you worked in another finger, maybe you wouldn’t touch him at all. You would touch yourself. Drive Matt crazy with the scent of your arousal, the sounds of your pleasure . . . Past attempts trying this had always ended when Matt couldn’t stay away. Sweetheart, you smell so good. I need to taste you.

But maybe if you tied him down, you’d get him begging. Then maybe you would untie him. Or maybe you would just ride him. Turn him into the same moaning mess he made you . . .

You let out a stuttering moan at the image, increasing the movement of your fingers in and out. Close, you were getting close . . .

The bathroom door opened. You let out a shriek, your fingers slipping out of you. Heart pounding with sudden fear, you whirled around to face the intruder . . .

“Relax, sweetheart. It’s just me.”

Matt . . . the fear drained out of you. “Fuck, Matt.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t mean to scare you like that.”

Unlike all the times that he had startled you to amuse himself, he sounded genuinely remorseful. You turned to look at him and had another surprise. He was wearing the black suit. You weren’t expecting that. And neither was your cunt.

You had always had a weakness for the black suit. You couldn’t really explain why. The red suit was just as tight. Just as sexy in its own way. Could get you all hot and bothered. But there was something about the black suit. It was different. And that undefinable difference made you feel feral.

Especially, you squinted through the steam, when said suit was soaking wet. Turning the already tight clothing into something painted on. You could see every ridge and crevice of his torso and abdominals. And the outline of his cock . . . already erect . . . your cunt clenched again, desperately aching for him to be inside you again.

Add in the beard Matt had started growing, a beard lightly peppered with gray . . . if you hadn’t been wet before, you certainly would be now.

And Matt knew it. You could see it in that smug, little smirk that replaced the contrite look. He started removing his gloves.

“Hey, babe,” You said, trying to play it cool. With limited success. “You’re home early. Got too wet?”

The smirk only grew. “No but I think someone here is.”

You felt warmth spread across your cheeks. “Maybe.”

“Sweetheart, do you think I can’t smell how wet you are?” He moved closer. Even barefoot, that predatory slink sent shivers down your spine.

But not from fear.

He herded you toward the back. You gasped at the bite of the cool tiles but your attention was rapidly pulled back to the man in front of you. His hands were braced on the wall either side of your head, boxing you in. He leaned in close, put his mouth right by your ear.

“Because I can.” His voice was deep as it went, a low rumble like thunder. You squirmed, your breath hitching. You had heard his Devil voice before. Matt had very quickly figured that you found his voice a turn on, his Devil even more so. But you hadn’t heard him using the Devil voice while wearing the black suit. The combination was dizzyingly hot. “I smelled your pussy and how thoroughly drenched it is the second I walked in the door.”

“I heard those breathy little moans as you touched yourself from a block away. I heard you panting out my name when you started fingering yourself.” He nuzzled your neck, his lips brushing against a sensitive spot. You felt your skin pebble and you shivered at the sensation. “Has my sweet girl been missing me?”

“Yes,” you said. Your voice had gone breathy. “I’ve barely even seen you this week, Matty.”

Matt made a thoughtful humming noise, kissing your neck. “And then I ruined your orgasm. Let’s fix that.”

He punctuated that promise with a gentle nip. You shuddered, your breath hitching as his mouth continued to work that part of your neck with his lips, teeth, and tongue. It was a sensitive spot. Matt always paid it some attention, sometimes leaving a mark.

Today seemed to be one of those times.

His hands didn’t remain idle. One reached down to cup your left breast, kneading the soft flesh. You couldn’t have contained that breathy moan if you wanted to. It felt so good to have his hands back on you. It really had been too long since he touched you. A second, louder moan spilled out of your mouth when his fingers gently pinched the stiff nipple, then started rolling it between his fingers.

The other hand continued its downward journey until it was cupping your mound. You gasped, your head thrown back against the tile as a single finger slipped between your folds. He slid through your folds a few times, coating his finger in your slick. Before slipping down to trace your entrance. A deep, feral noise rumbled out of his chest.

“You are so fucking wet,” Matt growled into your neck. “All this mine?”

“Y-yes,” You said, your voice rising in pitch as his finger slid inside you. It felt so good. Matt’s fingers were longer and thicker than yours. Not quite as thick as two of your fingers. You bite your lip. You needed more. And because Matt knew your body inside and out, he didn’t need to be told to start working in a second finger. Now you could feel the stretch, the fullness that had been missing before. You threw your head back against the tile, moaning.

“Just like that, sweet girl,” he said. “Give me those beautiful sounds.”

The wave had already begun to build but it climbed higher and higher with each thrust of his fingers, each brush of that spongy spot deep inside that you couldn’t reach with your own fingers. The whines you let out when his hand abandoned your breast rapidly turned into whimpers when his fingers began rubbing circles on your clit.

The little nub was already swollen and sensitive from your almost orgasm. It didn’t take much attention to it for that wave to crest, toppling over into bliss. Bliss that 

The little nub was already sensitive from your almost orgasm. It didn’t take much for that wave to crest, topple over as you came. Waves of bliss that rippled through your body as Matt’s hands continued their work. Not stopping until your inner walls stopped squeezing tight on his fingers. Only then did his fingers slip out of you and away from your clit.

Panting, you slumped back against the tile wall. Your shaky legs couldn’t hold your body upright without the help. The shaking only got worse when Matt lifted his head. Even with his mask still on, you knew that look. That feral hunger. His hands gripped your hips, steadying you against the wall.

Then he sank down to his knees.

You bite your bottom lip, barely managing to swallow an embarrassingly loud moan. Because that . . . the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen kneeling between your legs as the shower continued to pour water down on you . . . Despite just having an orgasm, your cunt throbbed with need. Need that only swelled when Matt grabbed one leg and hoisted over his shoulder, leaving you open to him.

Matt ignored your eager cunt in favor of your inner thigh. Another sensitive spot that he loved leaving marks on. No one but you would ever see it but he knew you liked the physical reminder of his ardor, enjoyed the slight sting when something brushed the mark. Lately that secret pleasure has increased with the addition of beard burn. Your panting picked up as he lighty bit down on that spot. It felt good. It felt so, so good.

But it wasn’t what you needed.

“Matt,” you whined, trying to squirm but held still by the hands gripping your hips. “Please.”

“Hmmm? Does my sweet girl want something?” he asked, only lifting his head enough to speak. The teasing brush of his lips against already sensitive skin only increased your attempts to squirm. But you couldn’t. All you could do was dig the heel of your foot against his back.

To no avail. He was clearly content to wait for you to break. It didn’t take long.

“Your mouth,” you begged. “Please Matty, eat me out.”

“One condition.”

“Anything!”

You could more feel than see the smirk on his face. “You better not swallow any more noises. I want to hear you, sweetheart.”

“But the neighbors . . .”

“Fuck the neighbors,” he growled into your thigh. “I want to hear you scream.”

Then his lips wrapped around your clit and he sucked. You cried out, hands scrambling on the tile. The pleasure was so intense that it bordered on painful. But Matt was merciless, not letting up on the pressure until you were screaming his name as you came for the second time.

“Matt,” you whimpered when his mouth lowered down to lap noisily at your soaked entrance with his usual enthusiasm, sending sparks of white-hot pleasure up your spine. It was so good. It was too much. You didn’t know if you wanted to push your cunt closer to his mouth or pull away.

Eventually he was satisfied that he had gotten every drop. Carefully lifting one hand away from your hips to lower your trembling leg off his shoulder. The hand returned to your hips. Good thing as his hands were the only thing keeping you from sliding down the shower floor. A shift, then he was rising back to his feet.

He kissed you. It was a hungry thing, devouring you like he intended to eat you from the mouth down. You could taste the tang of yourself on his tongue. He pressed himself against you, swallowing all your whimpers as he rutted his clothed cock against your bare cunt. Good, it felt so good . . . 

His hands shifted again until his arm was under your ass. Then he was lifting you up. Your legs dangled on either side of him, still too wobbly to wrap around his waist. You had a moment of worry that he would slip but your husband was cat-like in his grace as ever. And so strong. Even knowing him for as long as you had, sometimes his strength still surprised you. He effortlessly carried you out of the shower. Not even pausing and shifting your weight to one arm in order to turn off the shower caused him any difficulty.

You thought that he might carry you into the bedroom but apparently Matt was feeling impatient. He plopped you down on the bathroom counter. Then his hands reached down and hurriedly undid his belt buckle. The zipper came down next, Matt letting out a soft sigh of pleasure. With a little difficulty, he pushed down his pants and boxers far enough to free his cock.

Your cunt clenched pathetically around nothing. That particular body part should have been sated but it wasn’t. Not while it was so empty. Not when his cock was right there, long and thick and hard. Not when you could be getting fucked by your Devil.

“Do you want me to be gentle?” He asked, his hands gripping your thighs.

“No.”

He roughly pulled you forward by your thighs until you were on the edge of the counter, then used that same hold to spread your legs wide. You felt him sliding against you, then he was inside you. Sliding all the way in without pausing. You gasped. Even with two orgasms and the earlier fingering, it was still a tight squeeze. Not enough to hurt but you would be feeling this later.

Good. You liked waking up like that, feeling the pleasant ache of your and Matt’s passion for each other.

Before he could even ask, you were demanding, begging. “Fuck me, fuck me hard.”

He drew out part way, then back in, and after that there was nothing but his cock inside you. His thrusts were hard and fast, pumping into you with a relentless pace. Just like you asked. All you could do was hang on, hands clinging to his shoulders. One of your legs regained enough strength to wrap around his bare ass. 

The sound of flesh hitting flesh and his grunts as he fucked into you seemed oddly loud, ringing with the faint echoiness of the bathroom. Your own cries of pleasure were only slightly muffled by his neck where you had buried your face. You had to bite down on his neck to contain your screams when with a slight adjustment of his hips, he began hitting that spot deep inside you that brought you so much pleasure. He groaned at the press of your teeth into his flesh. Matty loved a bit of pain with his pleasure.

A third wave of pleasure grew, swelled until it became a raging torrent. You could not help but be swept away. You came, wrenching your mouth away from his neck to scream out his name again and again. Your nails dug deep into his shoulder, then he slammed hard into you, pushing himself impossibly. And he came with a beautiful groan, spilling his release inside you.

You had no idea how long you both remained right where you were, breathing hard with his cock still buried deep inside you as he could be. You could feel it twitching as your cunt continued to flutter around it. But gradually the fluttering and the twitching slowed, then stopped. You reached up, hooked your fingers under the edge and pulled off his mask. 

You loved your Devil but you also loved your Matt. And you haven't seen much of him this week either.

A sentiment Matt seemed to share, smiling at you. “Hey.”

“Hey yourself,” you said, smiling back. It was impossible not when he had that dopey, slightly crooked smile on his face. It was almost impossible not to press a gentle kiss to his forehead. Which only grew that blissful, peaceful look on his face.

“Our water bill this month is going to be outrageous.”

“Worth it.”

Matt hissed a little when he pulled his cock out. But so did you when he helped clean you up, more than a little sensitive. But you wouldn’t trade that experience for anything. As Matt just said, worth it.

He finally peeled off his sopping wet clothes, hanging them up to dry. Your body tried to muster up the energy for a fourth round after seeing his naked body. But you were too tired. Probably just as well. Your legs were limp noodles. For which Matt lightly teased you as he carried you to the bed.

As you lay snuggled across his side, you said softly, “I love you.”

You never let a day pass without telling Matt that. You never wanted him to doubt that. It had taken too long for you to convince him that you weren’t going anywhere. That you were here to say. That you loved him for him.

“I love you, too,” Matt said, his voice just as soft.

Just as you were about to drift off, an idea floated to the top of your mind.

“Hey Matt?”

A questioning sleepy hum.

“How do you feel about being tied up?”

__

To be continued . . . in Bound

[trappolia]

YOU DREW STARS AROUND MY SCARS ── blade + gn!reader, 918

blade hates the sick bay.

the fact that it’s called a sick bay makes him want to scoff. with the sort of crowd the stellaron hunters are, they hardly get sick. blade isn’t even susceptible to any sort of mortal illnesses or afflictions since that incident, couldn’t even come down with a cold if he tried.

but even then, there is something discomforting about the sterility of it all, the scent of unfamiliarity and something chemical. there’s the anxiety he hasn’t felt since the days of being mortal, stirring an unsettling feeling in his gut that makes blade want to take his sword and swing it, tear down this godforsaken sick bay and whoever else is unfortunate to go down with it.

it’s so unlike him, to be driven to such urges by a mere— a mere sick bay, of all things. but blade cannot deny how much he hates it; this constant reminder that even when cursed by immortality, he is still mortal. his skin is too easy to cut through, he bleeds the colour red, and his heart — this wretched thing that keeps his cursed body alive — still beats.

“with how often you try to slip away from your cot, i’d think you hate me,” you hum mindlessly, drawing him out of his pathetic state of mind.

blade's vermillion eyes glance up at you while you wipe a smaller cut on his palm with disinfectant. he does not grace you with a response, the same way you do not grace him with your gaze as you continue your duties.

it astounds him sometimes, how gentle you are with your hands despite the ferocity you wield them with on the battlefield. rarely does elio ever involve you in his scripts, for a reason only destiny's slave is privy to, and so blade often sees you haunting the hallways of the stellaron hunters' headquarters. you've seemed to have grown fond of lingering by the sick bay, tending to silver wolf's cramping hands while chatting with kafka and sam, with elio occasionally coming in with you to exchange words in hushed whispers. blade only ever comes in when you practically drag him by his ear to have his wounds treated, your scoldings directed at him forgotten the next time he bleeds red.

(is it an act of submission or a defiance? truly, it’s neither. blade doesn't want to put a name to whatever this is, doesn't want to think about it. it’s simple enough, him and you.)

he watches as you bend your head kiss his bandages, once on the left wrist and another on the right. there’s the searing heat of your soft lips on his skin even where the bandages are wrapped tightly over his wounds. the lightest pressure makes the areas where his skin has been cut sting, but some masochistic demon in blade sings when he feels the pain. his expression does not betray his emotions though, as he watches you bring his wrists towards you all while maintaining eye contact.

“not going to say anything?” you ask. blade’s eyes furrow when he sees the beginnings of a smirk playing upon your lips, his mouth opening to snap a retort at you— but all words die in his throat when he watches you tug lightly at the bandages with your fucking teeth, scraping hard enough to be felt, but lightly enough that it’d all remain intact.

it hurts— and blade realises what he feels isn’t the pain of his wounds under his bandages. it’s the heat of his skin, flushing at your touch, his heart racing rapidly under the wrappings on his chest.

“you little shit,” he snarls, his voice strained.

you just laugh, a smile of all teeth and canine, and blade wonders what he must do to face the same aggression your foes meet when you face against them in the battlefield; to have your mouth sink into the flesh of his pulse and devour him raw.

(he's died a million times before, but this time he wonders how it would feel to have you take his life for once. whether the heat of your mouth as it tears his flesh would be better than the cold metal of a spear, whether kissing you is enough to kill him already.

if you consumed his flesh, would he still be able to come back? or would he be finally be laid to rest, festering in your gut like a disease that never goes away? he wonders, and he yearns.)

blade shifts uneasily. you’re not normally this affectionate, this forward and precise. subtle nuances have always been your style, and blade knows this better than anyone else– but he is flushed. embarrassed, mouth parted and pink. he's weak, and he wants to kill you for it, or be killed by you– it doesn't matter anymore, because it's hard to tell where he ends and you begin.

your lips trail down the column of blade's throat, ghosting over his collarbones before you return to the bandages on his wrist, once, twice. your eyes meet his through your lashes, and something in blade whispers to him:

oh.

oh.

blade lets out a shaky breath, and the wretched creature that was once human allows his head to bow— lowers himself so his forehead touches yours. he’s here, he’s here, he’s here. and when your lips meet his and his veins are lit aflame, blade thinks he can live, even if it were just for this moment.

© trappolia 2024

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt for Waywren Truesong behind the cut; "interdimensional whoring for Timkon". (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“Was it as good as you thought it’d be, sweetheart?” he asks gently, giving the back of Kon’s hair the lightest little tug, and Kon clutches at the hanging edges of his other’s self’s cape and tries to kiss him harder past a stuttered moan. His kissing is still all clumsy and messy and out of sync, and Tim isn’t above taking the opportunity to admire him so easily sunk into that state as the rare and pretty sight that he’s always considered it to be. 

“Kon,” his other self mumbles between their mouths; between kisses. “Was it?” 

“Y’re b’tter,” Kon mumbles back, sounding drunk or concussed or maybe just both at once. His other’s self’s grip on his face tightens, just barely, and Kon shudders harder under pressure that couldn’t feel like actual “pressure” to him if he wanted it to. “B’tter. B’tter. Pl’se–pl’se jus’–” 

Tim’s other self kisses him again, long and lasting, and Kon whimpers and whimpers and whimpers into it, and shudders and trembles under it, and then comes right in his suit for it all over again with a desperate choking sound that might’ve been supposed to be a word. 

Or a name, maybe. 

Normally Tim would think it was possible that Kon might’ve been touching himself with his TTK to get himself off just then, just like he’d momentarily wondered if he’d been doing before. His own Kon doesn’t have any shame or hesitation about doing that kind of thing–though admittedly this apparently is, again, the sexually-repressed alternate reality–and also has super-sensitivity on top of that. At least when he’s paying enough attention to his sense of touch to focus it the same way he can focus his other senses, anyway. Kon probably has a more sensitive sense of touch than any other Kryptonian, in fact, given the nature of tactile telekinesis and also the amount of touch-deprivation his body went through in development. 

But in this case, even if it’d been his own Kon who’d been down on his knees getting the kiss he’d earned by gettting come all over his S-shield while drooling all over a mouthful of cock, Tim already knows the other wouldn’t have needed to touch himself at all. 

“Well, that’s nice to hear,” he sighs appreciatively, twining a few of Kon’s curls around his fingers. His other self leans back from the kiss, and Kon makes the exact same disappointed whine he’d made when Tim had taken his cock out of his mouth. 

Goddamn adorable. 

“Hell,” Tim’s other self says roughly, letting out a sharp exhalation without taking his hands away from Kon’s face; half-reflexively wiping away the spit around his mouth and chin with the heels of his gloves. Tim pets Kon’s hair again. Kon’s face is still upturned in his other self’s hands as his other self cleans it up, and there’s a look on it that his own Kon definitely, definitely takes longer to give up. 

Well, his own Kon’s much more experienced with this situation, so no surprise, Tim figures. 

“Told you he’s the sweetest to kiss after he’s had his mouth fucked,” he hums, and his other self shoots him a dirty look. Tim smiles back at him blithely. “You’re welcome, on that note.” 

“Drop-kick you through that fucking portal,” his other self mutters sourly. Kon’s still just staring up at him with a dazed, dreamy look on his face. Tim pets his hair a little softer at the sight of it. 

“Good boy,” he murmurs quietly to him. Putting Kon down that far that fast definitely means it’s time to take a break and do a full check-in. “Come on, Kon needs some attention. That doesn’t involve our dick, I mean.” 

“What?” His other self blinks at him, confusion flashing across his face. The sexually-repressed reality needs to work on its kink education, clearly. 

Well, not like that’s really a surprise. 

“We just dropped him through the floor with basically no lead-up and then made him come in his suit multiple times before coming on his shield,” Tim says. “He definitely needs some attention that doesn’t involve our dicks.” 

“I–what do you mean ‘dropped’?” his other self says with a frown, glancing down at Kon in concern. Kon leans right into his hands again, still wearing the same dreamy daze of an expression. “. . . Kon?” 

“Uh-huh,” Kon breathes, sounding even more dreamy and dazed than he looks, and then just tips straight forward and buries his face against the other’s hip, wrapping his arms around his thighs as he just nuzzles into and melts against him. Tim gives his scalp a light scritch or two and earns a low, carrying purr for it. His other self . . . blinks, and then glances up at Tim, his eyes narrowing warily behind his mask. 

“What did you do?” he asks, voice flat and expression edged with suspicion. 

“If you seriously think I managed to drug a half-Kryptonian with my dick, I’m flattered,” Tim replies wryly. His other self glowers at him. “Relax. It’s normal. I did mention your best friend having some submissive tendencies in the bedroom, didn’t I?” 

“You said ‘tendencies’,” his other self says, his eyes narrowing a little more. 

“Yeah, I more meant ‘desperate burning need to feel like he’s good enough for once in his life, especially if it makes someone proud of him’,” Tim says, stroking Kon’s hair a little more gently. “But to be honest, I kind of assumed that was obvious enough that I wouldn’t need to spell it out to you?” 

“He doesn’t need to prove he’s good enough to me,” his other self retorts accusingly, gripping the back of Kon’s neck as he glowers at Tim. Kon goes even meltier against him and lets out a breathy little sigh of a sound that makes the other’s face flush. Tim understands the reaction, for obvious reasons. Like, both the accusation and the flush, he means. 

“We know that, and he knows that,” he agrees, wondering if he’s got a basic kink primer anywhere in his files that he can leave with his other self, since he doesn’t really want to recommend any titles that might’ve been written differently in this reality. Or possibly, like, any titles that were written in this reality at all, given his suspicions about the whole sexual repression thing. It just seems like it might be a good idea, is all. “Doesn’t mean that half-Kryptonian cock doesn’t go full manhood-of-steel for hearing ‘good boy’.” 

“You are such an asshole,” his other self seethes.

[daddyhimeros]

Wayyy too shy to actually DM and damn this might be my autism talking but I wanna get a step by step guide of how you'd finger me and use my vibrator to tease and edge and deny me just to let me cum with a mind blowing orgasm that'll leave me unable to walk, speak or even think whenever you had your fill of playing with me

I got you fam

Now I’d have to tie you up because I’m an artist at what I do and I can’t have you interrupting me because of silly things like “I’m overstimulated”

Once I’ve spread those pretty little legs of yours and tied down your ankles to the bed posts I’d sit down next to you admiring your cunt but I’m not touching it just yet. You have to wait and be patient.

I take my long slender fingers and start tracing along your hip bones. Waking up all of the nerves in your lower body. Sliding them up your inner thigh until I’m almost at your pussy but stopping short. Feeling you l tensing up with anticipation of a touch that doesn’t arrive.

But enough teasing it’s time you feel my touch. I slip a finger between your lips down there and slide it through up to your clit feeling how wet you are. Unsurprisingly it’s already soaked even though I haven’t even touched it yet.

I moisten my fingers slightly with your wetness and begin tracing the lightest circles around your clit. Barely any pressure but you’re so brimming with eagerness to be touched your heart rate already begins to spike and your breathing gets heavier.

As I tease your clit with one hand my other starts exploring your cunt with just my index finger. Slowly slipping it inside and out feeling you tense up and then start to relax. All very rhythmic and smooth as you feel the pleasure starts to build.

I tease at your hole with two fingers now and then slip them both inside. Starting to curl them now and play around with your g-spot on the walls of your cunt. Softly dragging my fingertips inside you every time they slip in and out.

I position my body between your legs and get down low pressing my toungue against your pussy and giving it a long deep luxurious lick. Getting a first taste of you while continuing to slip my fingers into you under my chin.

You’re delicious and I can’t help but kiss and make out with your clit like it’s your lips. Pressing my soft lips around it and swirling it with my tongue. You strain against the restraints and try to buck your hips in pleasure but there is no escaping me.

My kisses deepen and my finger press deeper and slightly faster into you. Building you towards your first orgasm. There it is. I feel your body tense and you moan as I keep enjoying your taste.

Most would be satisfied with this but not me. I increase the intensity after the first. Now you are really fighting against the ropes. Not sure if you want to press your hips deeper into my face or pull away because it’s too much. I draw a second orgasm out of you as you are moaning loudly.

I sit up in the bed now and posture my body up into a dominant position over your poor helpless body. I press my hand down against your womb so that your g-spot presses harder into my finger tips inside you. I fuck you with my fingers more aggressively now but still in an incredibly rhythmic motion. With each press into your g-spot with my long fingers you feel something bigger building inside of you that you haven’t felt yet.

With one final thrust with my fingers I tip you over the edge and your body jerks uncontrollably as you give me a few little squirts into my palm. Grasping your breast playfully and kissing you on your lips I speak into your mouth mid kiss “I’ve never seen you do that before 😏”

You breath heavily but there is a sense of relief that you can finally catch your breath. But that’s broken up by me slipping a blindfold over your eyes. “One final surprise” I say. You feel something large slip inside your soaked and exhausted cunt. A brand new dildo for you. Followed by the electric click and hum of a wand vibrator. I press the wand against your clit causing and electric feeling through your body as I start to slip the toy in and out of your helpless body.

Building faster and faster as the stimulation is overwhelming. You have never feel so much pleasure in your life and you don’t even know how to handle it. Your body starts shaking uncontrollably as you cum for me one more time. Seeing how sexually defeated you are I finally remove the toys and cuddle up along side your still restrained body holding you tight and feeling the orgasm contribute to roll through your trembling body for the next ten mins.

[aangelicest]

Thinking about Big!Bro Suguru who started off just smoking cigarettes to take the edge off after he'd ingest curses. But it wasn't enough. And he found himself indulging in weed just to calm himself down. And his little sister who's never touched a cigarette or drugs in her life, being pressured into trying.

Content Warnings: Inc♡st, Peer pressuring, Dr♡g usage, Dubc♡n? (They don't don't anything really but it does insinuate that he will go further & they are both high), Non-explicit, Suggestive, Little Sister! Reader, Pet names (baby, princess), Short Rambles, Can you tell I've never done a drug in my life? I don't know what I'm doing, I see plug!suguru content all the time and I can't get him smoking out of my head

MDNI + Anti's please block and move on♡

Big!Bro Suguru who speaks to you in his soft, soothing voice. "C'mon, it'll be fun, yeah? Let me teach you." He murmurs before he blows smoke from the blunt on his hand into your face gently. He gives a sly little smile followed by a low chuckle as you cough at the smoke. It's cute, the way your nose scrunches up at the smell

Big!Bro Suguru who watches as you hesitate, but don't look very willing to try. "C'mon, you know you can do it. I just wanna- I just wanna show you, just trust me and try."

Big!Bro Suguru who raises his hand, cupping your chin when you look at him, his fingers just lightly touching your smooth skin. He then blows the smoke in your face again, the sight of your eyes fluttering as you try to blink the smoke away was too cute.

Big!Bro Suguru who pulls you closer when you attempt to take the blunt but not knowing exactly how to hold it properly. "Open wide- yeah, that's it…" He murmurs, his voice low as he holds the blunt to your lips.

Big!Bro Suguru who brings his hand back up to your chin, turning your head gently in his grip, forcing you to look at him. His thumb lightly rubs over your lip to try and soothe you with his loving touch. "Do that again, baby, yeah? This time, don't pull away, alright? Just breathe- just breathe. That's it princess…" He coos.

Big!Bro Suguru who whispers praises in your ear after every hit. "There you go. Good girl, you're doing so good for me, such a good little baby." while he pulls you onto his lap.

Big!Bro Suguru who can't help but stare at his sweet, precious, perfect little sister… so vulnerable and so cute. He's never seen you this loopy or this out of her mind… and all it took was a little bit of weed. He just gently brought his hand up, tucking your hair just behind your ear, fingers trailing down your waist.

Big!Bro Suguru who can't help himself, watching as you grow more pliant in his lap, mind all fuzzy from your first time. "Hey… how about we do something to make you feel even better, yeah?" He'd murmur, his thumb pressing against your soft lips.

Big!Bro Suguru who uses the lightest amount of pressure to slip his thumb past your lips, pressing down on your tongue as he takes a hit, blowing it gently against your face with a low hum. Every soft whine that leaves your lips makes him feel bolder.

Big!Bro Suguru who keeps playing with your tongue as his other hand starts to slowly move under your shirt. Rubbing your hip, thumb sliding against your tongue more. "You're doing so good for me, baby. Just keep feeling good, I got you. I always have you."

Big!Bro Suguru whose eyes darken when he takes another hit, blowing it directly in your mouth as he leans in. "Does it feel good baby? Hm?" The way your eyes look so cute, all glossy and glazed over as you take another hit makes him grunt, unable to stop his hands from sliding down your hips and finding its way between your thighs.

Big!Bro Suguru who's glad your parents are out late tonight, because he has something better to replace his thumb with.

[mariamakeslemons]

Kinktober 2024: Day 5 Rough sex/Bondage

Warning: Possibly badly translated Russian (if I need to fix it, please let me know), weird interpretation of DID (as always seem to do with Nikto, I apologize), Reader is AFAB, mild mention of blood and overly enthusiastic sex to the point of hurting a partner

Nikto knows that they have been lucky to have you as their лисичка, but this is too much. They don’t deserve this trust you give them so easily. You let him tie you to the bed, cover your eyes with a blindfold, and leave you naked against the covers. So vulnerable and all for him. Them. He is bare as well, the first time before you despite your lack of sight. His skin finally touching your skin, watching as you jolt and arch into even the lightest of pressure. His pretty one, their sweet love.

“Я тебя люблю. Моя драгоценная любовь, я убью ради тебя. Мы умрем за тебя. Мое любимое сокровище*,” Nikto rambles, breathing in the scent of your skin. You shudder under the words of affection, of love and lust that stream from his mouth, out of their mind.

“Baby,” you breathe, tilting your head just so. Nikto leans forward, devouring your mouth as their scarred hand slides down to press into your wet heat. You drive them insane, more so than he already is. Usually, the others tell him to hurt, to kill, to rip and destroy everything that would stand before him. But, looking at you, the most malicious request is slapping your ass or biting you to leave a mark. Your death is not wanted.

“Love,” he finally replies, stretching your cunt for his cock. You whine and Nikto shudders at the sound, giving in to the voices again to dig his teeth into your shoulder. The gasp you let out is delicious, it makes their mouth water and long to hear more. So, Nikto nips down your body, taking care to lap at the scars and stretchmarks that cover your body so beautifully. His fingers dig into whatever body part he can, his teeth leaving behind angry marks that blossom against your skin. Nikto pulls back and licks his teeth, his tongue briefly meeting the air because of the rip in his lips.

“Love,” they repeat, “More.”

“Then take it,” you offer, baring your throat to him while spreading your legs in invitation. Nikto growls and clamors over your legs, lining up his cock to your pretty pussy, before pressing in. The moan you let out is delightful, all the better to whet his hunger for you. He doesn’t even wait for you to adjust to the size, just thrusting into your sweet pussy like a man possessed. Their teeth find your shoulder, digging desperately into your flesh, hard enough that red wells up and they lap at it. Nectar from the Gods, through their blessed vessel, to the unworthy sinner.

“Fuck,” you whine so prettily, squirming and pressing against him, “More, Nikto. More, Baby.”

“As you command,” Nikto replies, fucking into your wet warmth with all the strength they’re willing to put you through. A little pain is okay, a reminder that you aren’t a holy being, but they never want you hurt in a way they can’t soothe. Your reaction to that little pain is beautiful, too. Arching into his thrusts, moaning with each squeeze of your hips, even stretching your neck out to entice them to wrap their hand around your pretty throat. He complies and you moan. You, who he revers as one who is unsullied by the sin they are drenched in, moan as they hold your life in his hands. Nikto cums with a snarl, refusing to pull out as he continues to rut into your pussy, overstimulating himself.

“Good,” he wheezes, pleadingly, “I’m good.”

“You are,” you choke out sweetly, “So good. Such a good boy.” Nikto groans, fucking you as hard as he can, his brain finally silent from that first release. There is no they, just him in this shamble of a body. Salvation in your pussy, holy sacrament from your lips. You finally cum and he shivers, almost wishing that he came later. To have cum with you would have been heaven. But now, Nikto pulls back and looks at your body carefully. Bruises litter your skin, the bleeding bitemark slowly dripping red on your skin.

“Baby, can you cut me free?” you ask softly. A blade is in his hand immediately, slicing through the ropes easily. Nikto watches as you lower your hands, rolling them carefully to get better blood flow, but you don’t remove the blindfold. You smile and reach toward where you think he is, requesting, “Can I kiss you on the lips?”

“Да,” he breathes, leaning down and kissing you properly for the first time. So many times have you pressed you lips to his mask, and he longed to feel your skin on his. He pulls back and blinks, before trying to copy something you’ve done to him before, peppering your lovely face with kisses. You laugh at his attempt, but bare your face for him, only to pause.

“Wait, shit,” you hiss, making Nikto pull back. He sees that the blindfold has fallen, but your eyes are still closed, still allowing him to hide. You huff, “The blindfold fell. Give it back and I’ll retie it.”

“…Нет,” Nikto decides. You freeze, your eyes still closed even in your confusion. Nikto delicately cradles your face, and breathes, “I see you. Now, you see me.”

“Are you sure?” you ask, so sweet. Nikto grunts in affirmative and watches as your eyes flutter open. He waits for the recoil, for the damnation. Part of his mouth is sliced open to expose his gums and teeth even when his mouth is closed, burns crawl along half his face and barely spare his eye, half his hair is thinner and lighter than the other. The unburned part of his face is scarred up and it trails down his body. The others return with a vengeance, hissing that you will reject him, them. But, again, you prove holy.

“Fuck, now I know why you keep a mask on,” you whisper, your smile shrinking but still real, “Too damn handsome. I’d be beating people back with a stick.”

“Once, maybe,” Nikto tries to argue, even as a warmth fills them at your acceptance. You hum and gently cup his face, checking that it’s okay before pulling him back down for another kiss. There are still things to do, like get you ointment for the bruises along your body and antiseptic for the bite. But, Nikto will relish in this moment, recalling this on the field to remind that you are waiting at the apartment. A home for them to return to, for the first time he can remember.

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

*I love you. My precious love, I will kill for you. We will die for you. My beloved treasure