#coil slitting line

[nirmaltexim]

Cut to Length Line Machine Manufacturer

About PrecisionCut Industries:

PrecisionCut Industries is a leading manufacturer of high-quality Cut to Length Line Machines, catering to various industries such as automotive, construction, metal processing, and more. With a strong commitment to innovation, reliability, and customer satisfaction, PrecisionCut Industries has established itself as a trusted name in the metal fabrication equipment industry.

Cut to Length Line Machines:

PrecisionCut Industries designs and manufactures a wide range of Cut to Length Line Machines, tailored to meet the specific needs of its diverse clientele. These machines are essential for transforming large metal coils into precise and accurate flat sheets of various lengths. Whether you require precision cuts for small-scale applications or heavy-duty processing for industrial projects, PrecisionCut Industries has the perfect solution to streamline your production process.

Key Features:

1. Precision Cutting: The Cut to Length Line Machines by PrecisionCut Industries are equipped with advanced cutting technology, ensuring precise and uniform cuts throughout the entire length of the metal coil.

2. High-Speed Processing: To maximize efficiency and productivity, these machines are designed to handle high-speed processing, enabling rapid conversion of metal coils into flat sheets.

3. Customizable Solutions: PrecisionCut Industries understands that each client's requirements may vary. Therefore, their Cut to Length Line Machines can be customized to accommodate different coil widths, thicknesses, and processing speeds.

4. Automated Control System: These machines come equipped with a state-of-the-art automated control system, allowing for easy operation and reducing the likelihood of errors during the production process.

5. Durability and Reliability: PrecisionCut Industries uses top-quality materials and components in their manufacturing process, ensuring the durability and longevity of their machines even under heavy-duty usage.

6. Safety Features: Safety is a top priority at PrecisionCut Industries. Their machines are designed with multiple safety features to protect operators and prevent accidents in the production environment.

[writers-potion]

Let's Talk About Pacing Our Fight Scenes.

For Fast-Paced Parts:

Short words with single syllables. Immediately > at once/ endeavour > try/ indicate > point at/ investigate > check out.

Short sentences, the shorter the better.

Partial sentences to blaze through multiple senses and actions within a few lines.

Short paragraphs

Lots of verbs.

Few adjectives and adverbs.

Cut down on -ing form of verbs, as it can make words longer

Use simple past tense

Avoid conjunctions and link words.

Avoid internal thought - your characters are irrational, ruthless and in the flow of pure action.

For Slow-Paced Parts:

Use medium/long sentences

the paragraphs are longer: three lines minimum

Include longer words with more syllables

Use adjectives and maybe a couple of adverbs.

Insert the thoughts of the PoV character.

Words for Action Scenes

act, alter, attack, avert, back, block, bang, bash, battle, beat, beg, belt, bend, best, bite, blacken, bleed, blind, blister, blow, blunt, boil, bolt, boot, bore, bow, box, brace, brag, brash, brawl, break, breathe, brush, buck, bulgde, burn, burst, cackle, call, can, carry, cart, carve, catch, check, chop, chuck, clack, clank, clap, clash, claw, clear, cleave, click, cliff, cling, clip, close, club, cock, coil, cold, collar, come, con, connect, corner, cost, count, counter, cover, cower, crack, crackle, cram, crash, crawl, creep, crinkle, cross, crouch, rush, cry, cuff, cull, cup, curl, curse, curve, cusp, cut, dart, dash, deepen, dig, deep, dip, ditch, drive, drop, duck, dump, ede, effect, erect, escape, exert, expect, feint, fight, fire fist, fit, flag, flare, flash, flick, fling, flip, flock, force, gash, gasp, get, gore, grab, grasp, grip, grope, group, hack, harden, heat, help, hit, hop, hurl, hurry, impale, jab, jar, jerk, join, jolt, jump, keep, kick, kill, knee, knock, knot, knuckle, leak, leap, let, lever, lick, lift, lock, loop, lop, plunge, mask, nick, nip, open, oppose, pace, pack, pain, pair, pale, palm, pan, pant, parry, part, pass, paste, pat, peak, peck, pelt, pick, pierce, pile, ping, piss, pit, pivot, plot, pluck, plug, plunge, ply, point, pool, pop, pose, pot, pound, pour, powder, pray, preen, prepare, prey, prick, prickle, print, probe, pry, pull, pulp, pulse, pump, punch, pursue, push, quarry, quarter, quest, race, raise, rake, ram, rap, rasp, rear, retreat, rip, riposte, rivert, roar, rock, roll, rope, round, rouse, run, rush, sap, scale, scalp, scan, score,scream, seek, seep, shake, shape, sharpen, shock, shoot, shop, slap, slap, slash, slice, slick, slip, slit, smash, snap, snare, snatch, snipe, sock, space, spar, spark, speed, spike, spill, spin, spit, splash, spoil, spring, spur, spurt, spy, squirm, stand, steert, step, stick, strap, strike, stuff, suck, support, swat, sweat, sweep, swingm tack, tag, take, target, taste, team, tear, tent, test, thrash, throw, thrust, thud, tick, tide, tilt, time, tire, top, toss, tower, toy, trap, trick, trigger, trip, triumph, trouble, trump, try, tuck, tug, twril, twitch, weaken, wet, whip, whirl, whirr, whoop, whoosh, whop, work, zap, zip.

If you like my blog, buy me a coffee☕ and find me on instagram! 📸

[fhopepackcom]

The steel coil is an heavy load that is not easy to handling by manually. For safety and more efficiency coil packing, many factory looking for a solution to resolve the problems caused by coil status. FHOPE provides coil packing system that designs according user's packing requirement . There are different types packing line to connect the silting line with coil downender, crane, fork-man...We provide hot mill coil packing system too for achieving the highest efficiency. No matter coil information scanning or strapping, packing, our system are able to reduce huge amount of labor cost by flexible system for handing and stacking. 

[some-bunniii]

ayo some luci angst just popped into my head, like….

imagine Lucifer falling in love with an employee at the hotel but their soul is owned by alastor and like?? luci is not happy about that.

*slams google docs on table, opens random 1.2k wrd snippet #234* behold…

x: GN!reader, no use of y/n

EDIT: read the full fic here

“What is this?” 

Lucifer had asked suddenly, his pupils dilated, trained on something against your throat. 

You sat on the edge of your bed, thumbs rubbing together in a soothing motion as you watched him move closer to you. Gulping, you parted your lips to speak.

You didn’t get a chance to say anything, before his hand gingerly lifted towards you. His nail grazed against your collarbone, and heat blossomed underneath your skin from his touch. 

‘Please, just stop here,’ you silently begged, eyes squeezing shut as his finger rested against your figure, ‘don’t ruin this moment by digging any farther.’

Your reaction only spurred him, however. Lucifer’s eyes narrowed, his pupils thin slits now as he watched you.

Slowly, his finger trailed upward, skin brushing softly against yours as he traced the invisible force only a powerful demon could see. Your heart beat rapidly in your chest, every movement of his only quickening its pace. 

Until his hand stopped, right in the middle of your neck, and you felt a sizzling against your skin. The heat was becoming too much, and you wanted to pull away from his touch. You didn’t, instead, you tensed, deathly still before him.

A soft golden light illuminated from Lucifer’s palm, as his fingers wrapped around an invisible object. A shadow formed in his grip, and he tugged at it, that glow in his palm growing stronger.

Backing away, he pulled a long, thin chain from your figure, it snaked from your throat as it followed his grasp.

He yanked it harshly, as if trying to free you of a parasite that found a home deep in your bones. But it only dragged across the floor, refusing to dislodge itself from your body.

A thick, metal collar snuggly encompassed your throat. The chain locked tightly against it, a vivid reminder of your poor decisions.

Lucifer’s palm slid across the cold, metal links. Eldritch magic seeped from its form in the shroud of thick fog. Archaic symbols danced at the edge of your vision as its glow illuminated Lucifer’s unreadable expression.

The chain was a sickly green, its harsh glow an annoyance to his eyes. It was embedded with a dark, chilling magic. Whispers of untold horrors and ancient curses coiling around you, promises of a fate worse than death. 

Lucifer could practically smell it, that red demon's aura as it encircled around your frame. A twisted signature, practically scrawled across your forehead like a stamp of ownership.

Oh, the audacity of a person to take such a kind, selfless soul and rip it away from its owner. 

You weren’t some dog to be beckoned at the flick of a wrist. You were so much more than that, you deserved so much more than that. 

Yet here you were, the clasp around your neck like a shadowed hand, softly squeezing the life out of your eyes. He could see it, clear as day.

Small, white horns protruded from his head as he clenched the chain tighter. He tugged it once, twice, as if testing its durability. You leaned back slightly, the chain becoming taught between the two of you.

That collar around your throat kept you locked in place, as you watched him turn the chain in his hands. For a moment, Lucifer’s figure melded into the horrid shadow of your owner, and your eyes widened in fear at your delusion.

You could see it, feel it. Your stomach brushing the stained carpet beneath you with that haunting figure bent in a sickly, twisted angle in front you. That chain wrapped around the radio demon’s hand as he threatened you with terrible acts if you failed to stay in line.

Seeing your face contort into pained anguish only caused Lucifer to bare his teeth slightly, the sharp edges glinting in the light.

Seeing it so deeply entwined with your very being only further spurred the king’s anger. It seeped quietly from him, his grip tight against the chains as if trying to snap them with his bare hands.

“Who did this?” He hissed, his gaze boring into yours. He wanted to hear you say that demon’s name, wanted to hear you confirm the truth that was so obvious in front of him. 

You knew he wasn’t angry at you, but still you bowed your head slightly. Averting your gaze from his pleading eyes, shame slowly clawing at your stomach. For a moment, you felt like throwing up. Wanting to rid yourself of the terrible feeling that was seeping into your skin.

You felt like crying, or throwing yourself into his arms. Wanting to melt into his hold, and be told again and again that everything would be alright. That the most powerful man in hell would come to your rescue.

But, deals that bartered in souls are a much more difficult magic to conquer.

Fighting the urge to collapse into his embrace, you steeled yourself. Hands planted against your knees, back straight in a pathetic attempt to have some kind of power in this moment. 

Your eyes sullenly traced across the harsh links of the chain, its form all too familiar by now. Yet, it still caused such grief in your bones no matter how many times you looked upon it over the years.

Slowly, your eyes shifted to meet his gaze. Your lips curved into a frown at his expression, and your predicament.

How were you supposed to tell the love of your life your soul didn’t belong to you? That you were trapped in a deal of your own making? 

Curse that little fine line in your deal that kept your mouth sealed shut, that prevented you from uttering his name.

“I-I..” You desperately tried to speak, to tell him the truth, but that invisible hand that pulled at your tongue forced your silence. Tears pricked at your eyes, the desperation in them evident as your attempts to explain only died behind those pretty lips of yours.

As your mouth shut in frustration, Lucifer’s anger only heightened. His eyes flared into a blood-red glow, a harsh change from that soft yellow radiance you often found yourself lost in.

He pivoted harshly away, his voice contorting into a snarl as he stalked out of the room. His overcoat appeared atop his shoulders, and it swished behind him as he moved. 

Lucifer’s thoughts were too tangled with the images of his claws wrapping around the deal-makers throat to sit there and console you.

The tears that had threatened to spill finally rolled down your cheeks, your lip quivering as your eyes lingered on the doorway he had just exited. His thoughts too mangled with the image of his claws wrapping around the deal-makers throat to sit there and console you.

Placing your face into your hands, you sobbed quietly. 

Oh, how that regret had begun to consume you as you continued to wallow in your self-pity. 

Regret, for thinking that giving away your soul was a simple feat. That somehow, you’d still be happy after the fact. 

Regret, for falling in love when you knew the deal that kept you to that deer demon’s side would never allow you to enjoy such a fleeting emotion. No matter how hard you clawed to Lucifer’s soft embrace, that chain would always be there to drag you back. 

Those soft whispers of affections, of promises you couldn’t keep. Knowing, one day, that constant-smiling demon could play his little games and tear you away from your lover’s hold forever.

Oh, what a lovestruck idiot you are. 

thoughts?? this is just an interesting concept to me and i rlly wanted to share it with you guys! i woke up at like 4:30 am today and was like ‘what if..’ and this is what came of it haha

and mmm alastor makes a such a good bad guy too depending on the context x)

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

Youve mentioned that shark soap is the first to use remora (I can't spell today) reader as a sex toy.

Does this possibly infer that someone else is the second 🤔

I 100% see it as price though. Or gaz,

hot filth coming right up <3

(shark mer 141 + remora mermaid reader au)

it’s Price. definitely Price the second time. probably because after Soap got to you, you became a little insatiable and you know... sleeping next to Price at night... things happen.

and Price is not opposed to Gaz joining in. (. ★ ᴗ ★.)

when it’s time to go to bed, Price lays back with you in his sandy cave nest. you press up into him and coil your tail, pressing the soft warmth of your body against his. even yawning and sleepy as you are, you know what your job is.

you set to work grooming his scales, his chest. you work your specialized palms meticulously across the planes of his body, leaving nothing untouched; no buildup of salt or grime unscraped.

it takes time. he’s much taller and broader a creature than you are.

he makes himself comfortable in his bed of sand, stretches out, and huffs as you situate yourself more firmly on top of him. your tail curls around his hip. he gives a low, pleased rumble. each brush of your nimble fingers soothes his mind and his ego. prized pet.

the sensation is strange—not quite a massage, but a satisfying feeling all the same. his muscles twitch as you brush over his chest. The beginnings of arousal coil in his stomach, and his scales grow warmer under your touch despite the cool water around them.

“that’s it,” he rumbles, placing his large hand on your hip. “keep going.”

you hum in acknowledgement.

under you, you feel him begin to unsheathe. you’re not surprised. this is the nightly routine, after all.

⬇ nsfw, d/s flavors + objectification, size diff, monster dicks, merman sex ⬇

you press your hips to his in idle response and line his emerging spear up to your sheath.

his hand on your hip gently squeezes. he shifts his body slightly to angle you properly.

“you’re in a rush, pet,” he chides, though he makes no move to stop you. in fact, he leans his head back. “you know i like to take my time.”

you bite your lip as the first cockhead pops out of his tail and directly into your slit. just the bulbous tip has your stomach muscles clenching. “s-sorry.”

“i know you are.” his fingers dig into your flesh in warning as you try to move. “but i’m not going to fuck you just like that.”

you rock against him anyway. as best you can—plant your palms on his chest and arch your back to better grind yourself down. he watches you writhe and buck against him like an animal in heat.

his free hand comes up to trace down your curved spine. “you’re being greedy. be good and let me set the pace.”

“mmhmm—!”

you try to slow, but you can’t. you want to be full. he smiles a slow, wicked smile. the tension in your body as you struggle to hold yourself back and fail is so pleasing. you look like you feel so empty without him.

“you’re being so naughty. is this how a good pet behaves, hm? trying to take more than you’re given?” he slides his hand around to your rear and squeezes it. “you’re going to wait until i say you can. you’re here to be used, not to beg me for what you want.”

you nod quickly. but still you rut your hips. you can catch him just right on your sensitive nub—

“stop that. you aren’t going to push me into going any faster.” he knows exactly where you’re trying to get him to touch you. he knows exactly how desperate you are. he gives your rear a firm slap. “behave.”

you whine. you make the prettiest little sounds when you’re desperate like this. you make so much noise, in fact, that Gaz stirs outside.

his voice echoes outside the cave. “sir?”

Price’s eyes don’t leave you. “what is it?” he calls back.

“is something wrong?” Gaz replies, hesitant.

“quite the opposite.”

you keep silent, now trying in earnest not to squirm. you can’t imagine Price wants to be found out like this—to be seen in so compromising a position.

you’d be wrong.

while you watch the dark cave entrance with wide eyes, Price pinches your nipple. you let out a loud gasp, bucking in shock.

Price grins. Gaz is right outside, listening to every sound with appropriate concern—why not take advantage of the opportunity? he wants Gaz to know.

he pinches again. harder. “come on, pet. make some noise for me.”

you cry out at the command, helpless to contain your pleasure.

he grows harder under you. “that’s a good girl,” he purrs. then he raises his voice. “Gaz, come.”

Gaz—pressed as close to the entrance of the cave as he could be without physically transgressing—is there in moments.

Price doesn’t so much as raise his eyes to Gaz in greeting. he simply shifts, finally pushing his cock into you to make you arch and better display you to his new audience. you struggle to suppress your whines, fins curling up behind you despite your best efforts.

Gaz’s gaze turns hungry and lingering. for all his performative concern, he must’ve been expecting this. but he doesn’t encroach. he doesn’t crowd you. he waits to be invited. permission must be granted before he can do anything but hover, eyes glued to you both.

“i said come. closer,” Price commands. “come look at my pretty toy.” he presses his hips up into yours, feeling himself slide deeper. your fingers flex and curl against his chest. such a small fish compared to them. a toy indeed.

soon, Gaz is pressed against your back, his hands feeling you up and down. Price is feeling indulgent—toward both of you—and Gaz is nothing if not an opportunist.

you get much, much more than you begged for. Price’s rough hands, his slow thrusts, the sweetened way orders fall out of his mouth like praise. Gaz’s steadying grip, his teeth on your shoulder, his cocks rutting into the curve of your spine, your ass.

following orders, isn’t he? both of you.

and you keep following those orders even after Price spends himself in you once—you clenching around him in euphoria after edging yourself so long awaiting his satisfaction; Gaz’s hands guiding his superior’s second cock into you with such rote efficiency you wonder who he wants to touch more. you’re swollen and used, and Price’s second cock feels bigger than the first. it’s all you can do to keep your eyes open as Gaz grabs your hips and pumps you up and down for Price’s pleasure.

Price watches with a lazy smile. it’s debauched. Gaz’s desperate need to please his superior; your willingness to be reduced and devoured; the way Gaz slides his own cock into you quietly; the way you take both his and Price’s without complaint despite the immense stretch. you arch between them, wrecked and writhing as they use you both for their own pleasure.

the friction of Gaz’s cock against his sends heat up Price’s spine, and he pulls out and fucks up into you, watching his length and Gaz’s disappear into your slit over and over until he cums again.

“such a good little pet,” Price growls through his teeth, low and sweet. “aren’t you?”

you promise you are. and you continue to be even when Price flips you over, putting you on your back as an offering to gaz.

it’s different when Gaz is having his way with you. it’s all for Price’s pleasure, the way he watches, the way he directs you—two of his favorite toys. Gaz keeps you open and on display to his superior and fucks you every way he knows Price likes.

each time Gaz speaks to you, touches you, moves you, it’s to please Price. but that’s what possesses you both—drives you and Gaz to the edge of your sanity, filled up by the overwhelming desire to please the man who watches you. you’re both props to each other. you’ve never wanted anything more.

as Gaz’s gentle orders turn strict and harsh, Price’s praise softens.

their words bleed together, and by the time they’ve had their fill of you, you’re more spent than you’ve ever been. a boneless, exhausted puddle, used and marked and bruised and deliriously happy.

Price runs his hand over the marks left over. handprints. bite marks. claims of ownership.

Gaz knows better than to hesitate. he wastes no time moving away with a nod from his superior. Price intends to enjoy his handwork—your weary form—alone.

you’re left gasping, body trembling and slick with spent pleasure. your hair is tangled, your body marked with bites and scratches, your eyes hazy from pleasure and exhaustion. despite it all, Price curls his big hand around your cheek. “are you satisfied?”

“if... if you are. sir.”

he smiles at the quivering of your voice, the way you still seek to please. “you don’t have anything else you’re craving, pet?”

it’s a teasing question. he knows you have nothing left to give, even if you wanted to.

your body twitches under his fingers as they trace you, sensitive from so much use. he sees how you shiver when he touches the bite marks left by Gaz’s possessive teeth. satisfaction coils in his stomach at the sight.

still. it’s a trick question to you. you can’t be sated until he is—you don’t want to be.

you press into his side and let your hand wander over his chest in a way that could be sweet or suggestive, depending on where his mind lingers.

it’s tempting to give you more. but he elects instead to sweep you into his arms and bury his face in your chest. you curl around him with a sweet sound.

“insatiable thing,” he rumbles. “sleep. you’ll have much more to tend to in the morning.”

more mer au / more Price / more Gaz / masterlist

[moonchild9350]

Within My Grasp

Summary: Hyunjin’s outfit for an event has you needy for your man.

Pairing: idol Hyunjin x fem reader

Genre: smut-18+ MDNI please

Word Count: 809

Warnings: sex and creampies, that's it folks (but wrap it up though)

Note: Hyunjin's insta update...enough said lol. I hope you like it! Likes, reblogs, and comments appreciated :)

Please do not copy, translate, modify, use, or repost this work elsewhere without my permission. ©moonchild9350 (2024)

You were needy for your boyfriend not being able to wait until you got back to the hotel. Hyunjin and the members had just got done with their event, meeting tons of stay. You were in love with his outfit he chose to wear for the event. You needed him and you needed him now.

You grabbed his hand as he walked backstage, right as he was about to greet you. You pulled him to his dressing room and pushed him against the door for a heated kiss once the door closed. The kiss was quick and messy, urgency in every nip of the lip and suck of the tongue.

“Angel wha…” Hyunjin tried to say in between kisses, but you cut him off each time with another kiss.

You bit his lower lip before pulling back. Grabbing Hyunjin’s hands again, you pulled him to a chair in front of the makeup counter, pushing him down in the chair. Straddling his legs, you grabbed his tie that was loosely tied around his neck, wrapping it around your hands a few times before giving it a tug. Hyunjin let out a groan, your dominant behavior turning him on with each passing moment. He grabbed your waist, giving it a squeeze as you rolled your hips against his, a groan coming from both of you with the movement. You gave another tug of the tie causing him to lean forward, crashing his lips onto yours once again.

You rolled your hips faster and faster, moaning into his mouth. Hyunjin’s hands guided you along, nudging your clothed core against his buldge. Each rock of your hips forward hit your clit just right as you were wearing a skirt, nothing between you besides your soaked panties.

You leaned back and stilled you hips, reaching down to unbuckle hyunjins belt, his eyes on you the whole time. You locked your eyes on his as you unzipped his jeans, tapping his hips to signal for him to lift his butt up so you could drag the offending clothing down his thighs. Once out of the way, you reached your hand into his boxers, giving his cock a few pumps, gathering the pre cum from his slit to help the glide.

You reached down to move your panties to the side before sliding his cock through your folds, gathering the slick that was dripping out of your pussy, sighing at the feeling as it brushed against your clit again and again. Lifting your hips, you lined his cock with your entrance before slowly sliding down his length until his cock was snuggly nestled within your warmth.

With a shaky breath, you placed your hands on Hyunjin's shoulders, looking him in the eyes. His pupils were dilated, soft pants leaving his lips. He looked down at where you were connected before dragging his eyes back to yours. You slowly lifted your hips before lowering yourself down on his cock, a low moan leaving your mouth. Grasping his shoulders harder, you started to bounce on his cock a little faster, the sound of your ass hitting his pelvis each time.

Soft moans could be heard throughout the room, Hyunjin’s eyes never leaving yours as you used him for your pleasure. No words were said, none were needed, as pleasure was the only goal.

You rode his cock faster and faster, feeling your high approaching. You grasped his tie once more, tugging it again and again. Hyunjin let out a loud moan with a hard tug and particular swivel of your hips on his cock, his fingers reaching for your clit. Hyunjin rubbed your bundle of nerves again and again, his fingers slipping and sliding with the amount of slick that was pooling out of your pussy, your whimpers and moans getting louder and louder. You felt the coil in your belly tighten and with one more bounce you came, your thighs shaking. You leaned your head down on Hyunjin’s shoulder letting out a shaky breath.

Hyunjin grounded himself before lifting his hips up again and again to pound into your wet pussy, his high approaching. With a hard thrust he came, hips stilling, his warm cum spilling into your pussy before slowly dripping out of your pussy.

You both sat there, letting out shaky breaths as you came back down out of your highs.

“That was hot angel,” Hyunjin finally said with a chuckle.

You whined at his statement, lifting yourself up and out of his lap, his cum dripping down your thighs.

“Sorry babe, but you looked too hot out there to ignore,” you said with a wink.

Hyunjin just shook his head watching you walk to the in suite bathroom to get towels for both of you.

Hyunjin sat there with his pants pulled down to his thighs, and his now softened cock hanging outside his boxers before chuckling out,

“My little minx.

Taglist: @jehhskz @jeonginsleftcheek

[yannawayne]

vii. what's up danger?

SYNOPSIS: "Alright, let's do this one last time. My name is Y/N Kyle. I was bitten by a radioactive spider, And I've been the one and only Spidey in Gotham. I’m pretty sure you know the rest." PAIRING: Older! Damian Wayne/Fem! Reader TAGS: Established relationship, Wounds, Violence, Surgical procedures, Panic Attacks, Mentions of overdosing, Pills, Non-sexual intimacy, Mentions of death AO3: yenwayne SERIES LINK: gotham's only spidey

<- PREVIOUS | NEXT ->

 ༻⊰───⋅

The blood drained from Damian’s face, leaving him ashen and hollow. The horrifying truth sank in—you thought he was going to kill you. And he had nearly done it.

“No... no, no, no...” The words tumbled from Damian in a panicked whisper.

He dropped to his knees beside you, reaching out with trembling hands, but hesitating, afraid to touch you and cause more harm.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed, guilt choking his voice. His fingers hovered near your skin, close enough to feel your warmth but hesitant to make contact.

“My sweet girl, you’re safe with me.”

 ༻⊰───⋅

DANGER. 

Instinct screamed louder than thought, flooding your veins with raw, primal fear—a visceral, choking terror that clawed at your chest.

Panic clawed its way up your spine, gripping your heart in a vice, as if every nerve in your body had been doused in ice. The sound that followed, the sickening lurch in your stomach, and suddenly, you couldn’t breathe— 

The blade pressed closer, its cold edge grazing your skin. White slits, the only features visible on Robin’s shadowed face, stared down at you from behind the blur of your vision. The edge of a rain-soaked cape trailed down, droplets mingling with the blood pooling on the floor. 

You couldn’t breathe. You were staring up at your own death, and you couldn’t breathe. 

“Don’t—” 

With a breath that felt like a desperate gasp for air, you crawled away from the blade, pleading for your life in ragged, broken whispers. 

Each inch you moved felt like wading through water, the crushing weight of fear dragging you down. Your helmet had long since uncloaked, and the remnants of your damaged suit clung to you, cracked and broken. Some pieces of the shattered armor lay scattered around. 

That white gaze slithered over the spider emblem on your chest piece, coiled around it, heavy with unspoken realization, before slowly unwinding to meet yours.

“Habibti?” 

For a moment, everything seemed to stop.

“It was you?” Damian’s voice was barely a whisper, laced with horror and disbelief. 

But then his expression shifted, confusion and hurt twisting into something darker. His brows furrowed, and his mouth set into a hard line.

"Why did you hide this from me?" Damian growled, voice rough as if dragged over gravel. His teeth ground together with a harsh, grating sound. As he advanced toward you, his hands shook, the katana gripped tightly in his trembling fingers. His knuckles were white with the strain.

“Why didn’t you trust me?!”  

Your head spun, confusion and fear intertwining—what was he talking about? You couldn’t—didn’t—understand. 

Damian’s boot came down on your chest, the impact forcing a violent flinch from you.

“Stop—” you croaked, your fingers digging desperately into the worn leather and scuffed rubber of his shoes.  “What—what’s this about? I—I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but don’t—don’t you dare lay a hand on me!”

Damian hesitated for a fraction of a second, but his anger remained tightly coiled, ready to snap.

With a choked, anguished apology, you swung with all your remaining strength. The punch connected with Damian's jaw, making him stumble back, momentarily stunned.

Seizing the moment, you scrambled to get away, but Damian was faster. He surged forward, his katana slicing through the air in a swift diagonal arc. The blade narrowly missed your shoulder as you ducked, its sharp edge whistling past.

“Ngh!” you grunted, hitting the ground hard on your chest. Your breath caught in your throat as you looked up, seeing Damian's sword raised again. Panic surged through you, and you curled into yourself, bracing for the next strike.

DANGER!

Heaving, Damian held the sword up, his breath coming in ragged bursts. Anger consumed him, his entire being trembling with the force of it. But amid the storm of rage, flashes of clarity began to pierce through the haze. He saw the fear in your eyes, the way you shrank away from him.

The katana slipped from his grip and clattered to the floor with a cold, final sound.

CLANK.

The fury that had burned so fiercely began to crack, replaced by dawning horror. Damian stumbled back, eyes wide, chest heaving. What was he doing?

“Fuck,” he rasped, his voice cracking as he knelt before you, reaching out with trembling hands. But you recoiled, pressing yourself against the floor, the fear too fresh, too consuming.

“Please, don’t,” you gasped, voice shaking. “I’m not—please, just don’t... I’m begging you—”

The blood drained from Damian’s face, leaving him ashen and hollow. The horrifying truth sank in—you thought he was going to kill you. And he had nearly done it.

“No... no, no, no...” The words tumbled from Damian in a panicked whisper.

He dropped to his knees beside you, reaching out with trembling hands, but hesitating, afraid to touch you and cause more harm.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed, guilt choking his voice. His fingers hovered near your skin, close enough to feel your warmth but hesitant to make contact.

“My sweet girl, you’re safe with me,” Damian whispered, his voice trembling. He pressed the emergency button on his watch, and an urgent alert blared out, sending a distress signal to the nearest Bat-vigilante.

You wanted to respond, to reach out, to say something. But the panic had you in a vice grip, squeezing your throat and chest, rendering you mute.

“Habibti, you need to breathe,” Damian urged gently.

You shook your head, the motion making the pain flare up again. 

“I—” you choked, “I can’t.”

“Yes, you can,” he insisted.

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to block out the pain, but it only seemed to make it worse. The fear clawed at your chest, leaving you gasping.

“It hurts,” you whimpered, every breath a battle.

“I know it does, but you have to breathe. Breathe with me.” 

Damian’s hands numbed as he started to assess your injuries, pushing down his rising panic to focus on the task at hand. 

He gently tilted your head, inspecting the gash on your brow. Blood smeared across your face, and the cut was deep—likely requiring stitches. He checked your pupils by shining a small flashlight from his utility belt into your eyes to assess for a concussion. Thankfully, none. 

When you shifted and winced in pain, Damian’s attention fell on your leg. He carefully palpated around your ankle, noting the swelling and deformity. 

“Broken,” he murmured.

The tense moment shattered with a metallic clang and the sharp sound of a grappling hook. Damian looked up to see Nightwing’s silhouette framed by the window. Dick’s face turned grim as he took in the scene, his eyes locking onto Damian’s with a look of horror.

“No time for explanations,” Damian said, lifting you from the ground. “We need to get her to the Cave—now.”

“No...” you murmured weakly, your voice barely more than a whisper. Both men turned to you, concern etched deeply into their brows as you struggled to keep your eyes open. Your head lolled back, and the darkness around you seemed to thicken, fueled by the poison coursing through your veins. “The Batcave... it’s too far...”

“Then we’ll bring the supplies here,” Damian grit out. He tightened his grip on you, trying to make you as comfortable as possible. “I’m not letting you go. Not now.”

The conversation between Nightwing and Damian became a muted blur. You felt yourself being carefully lowered onto the couch, strong arms guiding you down. A hand threaded into yours with a reassuring grip.

You took a few deep breaths, trying to muster the strength to reach for the comm link in your ear. Your hand trembled as you raised it, fingers just closing around the device when the door burst open. Morgan stumbled in, breathless and disheveled, clutching a bag tightly in her hand.

Your eyes locked onto hers, and she let out a sigh of relief. “Y/N.”

The moment she spoke your name, Damian paused.

The warmth in his eyes slowly hardened, replaced by a chilling coldness. 

In a heartbeat, he was across the room, moving with terrifying speed. He grabbed Morgan and slammed her against the wall with such force that the impact stole the breath from her lungs.

“Damian! Wait—” you winced, trying to lift yourself off the couch, but Dick was quicker, gently but firmly pushing you back down.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Damian snarled. The words dripped from his lips like venom as he rammed his forearm against Morgan’s ribs. “You shouldn’t be—”

“Holy shit,” Morgan sputtered, cutting him off with a heave. “Did—Did she just say Damian? You’re Robin?”

Damian’s arm pushed harder, his anger unabated.

“Answer me,” Damian snapped. The white slits in his mask glared at her like twin spots of ice. “You’ll explain what you’re doing here before I ensure you regret ever stepping foot in this place.”

“What the hell, dude?” Morgan shot back, pushing against his arm. “What’s your problem? I’m here trying to help!”

Damian’s grip tightened, suspicion deepening. “Help? How did you even find us?”

Morgan met his gaze without flinching. “I followed the signal from her comm link. I’m not here to mess with you, Batboy. And I sure as hell don’t have time for this bullshit! She’s seconds away from dying from poisoning!”

The word struck Damian like a physical blow. His shoulders stiffened, then faltered slightly, revealing a flicker of genuine panic. “Poison?”

Morgan rolled her eyes, exasperation lacing her voice. “Yes, genius. That’s what I said. Now, unless you want her to die on your watch, you need to get the hell out of my way and let me work.”

Damian staggered back, momentarily off-balance as Morgan forcefully shoved him aside. Without missing a beat, she moved to your side, setting her bag on the floor and beginning to unpack multiple bottles and syringes. 

“Hey,” she said, glancing at you with a frown. “How’s it going so far?”

“Trying not to die,” you croaked. 

“Well, try to hold on a bit longer. I haven't even started saving your ass yet.”

Damian and Dick hovered nearby, their eyes following every movement as Morgan set to work.

Her fingers moved quickly as she wiped down your arm with a sterile antiseptic, the scent of alcohol wafting up your nose.

“This is a batch I made following the journal I found,” Morgan explained. She drew a syringe filled with the antidote, the liquid swirling inside. As she gently pierced the needle into your arm, you felt a brief, sharp sting followed by a wave of coldness spreading from the injection site.

Gradually, the haze of disorientation and the crushing weight of nausea began to lift. The world around you came into sharper focus, and a soothing numbness slowly spread through your limbs.

“Stay with me,” Morgan said, tapping your cheek. “Need some painkillers?”

You nodded weakly, struggling to grasp the sudden clarity returning to you. The pain was still present but had dulled.

“Please,” you said, holding out a hand. “I think... I think the toxin’s affecting my healing.”

Morgan reached into her bag and pulled out a bottle of fentanyl, dropping it into your hand. Clutching it tightly, you fumbled with the bottle of pills, your hands trembling. 

Twisting the cap off, you quickly poured a handful of tablets into your mouth. The sharp, bitter taste assaulted your tongue, making you grimace as it spread across the inside of your cheeks.

Both Dick and Damian reacted with strangled shouts.

“Stop!” Damian snapped. He lunged forward, his hands clamping onto your wrists in a desperate, vice-like grip. The pill bottle slipped from your grasp as Damian hurled it away, sending the remaining pills scattering across the floors. “What the hell are you doing?!”

You tried to speak, but the words were lost in a hacking cough that wracked your body. Dick’s face turned ghostly pale as he scrambled to pull some of the pills from your mouth, his hands shaking as he dropped them to the floor.

“How many did she take?” Dick demanded, his voice trembling as he grabbed the pill bottle and frantically scanned the label. His eyes widened as he read the text, shifting from confusion to horror. “Holy shit! I think I counted ten! That’s way over the safe dose!”

You and Morgan shared a glance, disbelief written all over your faces.

“That’s far from her limit!” Morgan spoke up. “She needs more, not less! The dosage for her is higher.”

Damian’s face flushed an alarming shade of red, his anger boiling over. A rapid stream of Arabic curses burst from him before he switched back to English with a snarl. “Do you have any idea what you’re doing? Just pumping her full of drugs and hoping for the best?!” 

Damian swatted the syringe Morgan tried to bring closer, snapping, “Your incompetence makes it a miracle she’s still alive!”

“Don’t lecture me, you oversized Boy Scout! She’s not a regular patient. You don’t get the dosage she needs. She’s not like you—” Morgan cut herself off, and shakes her head with a frustrated groan. “Look! Either you help or you get out of my way!”

Damian’s hands twitched at his sides, his fingers trailing dangerously close to the blade strapped to his utility belt. 

Cursing under your breath, you reached out, your hand grasping his wrist. 

“Dames, it’s fine,” you whispered, your fingers resting on his pulse point, feeling the rapid thrum beneath your touch. “Let Morgan do her job.”

“Beloved,” he glowered. “I will not allow this—”

“I’m a meta,” you cut him off.

A meta. You’d never said it out loud before—not like this, not even with Selina or Morgan. The word felt alien, a part of yourself you couldn’t quite embrace or accept, even within your own mind. It was as if naming it made it all too real, too undeniable.

The argument that had just moments ago filled the space with heated voices and frantic movement came to a halt. 

The apologetic look Morgan sent your way stung, intensifying the ache in your chest. She had known, of course—known what you were and had still stuck by your side.

That meant something, didn’t it? That maybe not everyone would see you as a threat. But Morgan wasn’t Batman. She wasn’t the one who held the city’s safety in his hands, who made decisions that could alter lives in the blink of an eye. 

"Fuck." Dick heaved a sigh and began to pace the room, a tense set in his shoulders. Damian’s face twisted into something unreadable as he stared at you. 

Meta. The word bounced around in his head.

Raised in a world of absolutes—right and wrong, justice and vengeance, friend and foe—Damian had little experience with gray areas. 

Metas had always been... complicated. Potential threats, variables that couldn’t be controlled. And now you, the person he cared for most, were one of them.

'What would Father say?' Damian thought as he edged closer, his movements hesitant, as he extended the pill bottle to you. His fingers trembled over the label as you took it, swallowing the remaining pills.

Batman’s code was clear—protect the city, maintain control, and apprehend threats. If Batman found out—no, when Batman found out—what would Damian do? If Batman decided you were dangerous…

Damian knelt beside you, his breath shaky. Without a word, he tipped his head against your side, his forehead brushing your ribcage.

With the human barrier out of the way, Morgan resumed her work, administering the dose. The sting of the syringe was a distant sensation, barely registering through the fog in your mind.

“So...” Morgan murmured, the words heavy like syrup and lathered with forced lightness as she finished administering the tenth and final dose. “You guys into birds or something?”

You managed a small, tired smile and nudged her shoulder.

Damian lifted his head, meeting Morgan's gaze with a blank, white stare.

“What?" Morgan frowned. “You two show up with bird costumes and expect me not to ask questions? I need to know if this is some sort of family tradition."

The tension in the room began to ease, the atmosphere shifting from the intense panic of moments ago to something almost resembling normalcy—as normal as two vigilantes and one spider person could get.

You took a deep breath and slowly sat up, despite the weariness pulling at your limbs. Damian immediately moved to stop you, but you waved him off with a tired sigh.

“I’m fine,” you insisted. “Fast healing.”

Your eyes scanned the wreckage of the room, taking in the damage. The shattered window was a jagged lattice of sharp edges, with fragments scattered across the floor like deadly confetti.

“Mom’s gonna kill me,” you muttered, the weight of it all finally hitting you.

“Let’s focus on getting you back on your feet first,” Morgan said, shrugging. “The window can wait. Plus, I’m pretty sure we can come up with a good excuse. Maybe blame it on a freak bird accident?”

You glanced at the two men in the room. 

“Oh, it’s definitely a bird accident,” you quipped, the double meaning not lost on them.

Morgan rolled her eyes playfully, though her gaze softened with genuine concern. She moved toward a nearby closet, retrieving a broom and dustpan. “I’ll, uh... start cleaning up.”

The room fell into a quiet, contemplative silence. Dick stood there for a long moment, his eyes lost in thought. When he finally spoke, his voice was thick with an emotion that was hard to pinpoint, his gaze flicking between you and Damian.

“So...” he began, the word hanging in the air. “What happened?”

Damian seemed to collapse inward, his shoulders curling as guilt bubbled up within him. He grumbled softly, moving to slip off his domino mask. As it came away, vibrant forests met your gaze with smudged black eye paint still clinging to his lids. 

Turning away, you sighed and ruffled your tangled hair, finding the motion oddly comforting. The persistent itching in your ankle and ribs was a constant reminder that your healing factor was still at work, not yet finished mending the damage from your earlier crashes.

"A lot," you replied, biting your lip as you addressed Damian. "Why did you...? I... I thought you were coming after me because of, uh, what I’ve been doing at Ivy's, but... I just don’t understand. Why? Why did you—"

Damian's head whips up, his jade eyes blazing. "What? I—You never told me you were a vigilante."

You blink at him, stupefied. "I did! I told you the night of the dinner!"

Damian’s eyes widen in disbelief. 

“No, you didn’t. You mentioned—” He stumbles over his words. “You only said you were—” His voice trails off as his expression turns grave. His lips press into a thin line, realization washing over him.

“Oh.” The single word is barely audible.

“You—” he stammers, his mouth opening and closing as if he’s trying to find the right words but failing. “I— I can’t believe this.”

Beet-red, he shakes his head vigorously, trying to dislodge the weight of his own mistake. 

“It’s my fault. I misunderstood. I didn’t realize...” As he trails off, his face flushes a deeper shade of red, blotchy patches spreading across his cheeks and forehead. He’s clearly mortified, his eyes cast downward as if he could sink into the floor to escape this. 

“What?” you sputter, completely bewildered.

Damian groans, burying his face into his knees. “I thought you were being hunted down...”

You jump in surprise and let out a soft scoff, placing a soothing hand on the back of his head and gently running your fingers through the scrape of his undercut. “Damian, seriously? You thought I was being hunted by my own... what, my secret identity?”

He nods against the kevlar of his suit, voice muffled and strained. “I thought... you were in danger. I didn’t realize— I didn’t make the connection.”

Dick, watching this whole exchange, finally lets out a huff and nods. “We all thought you were in danger. Guess we jumped the gun a bit. We were convinced you were being targeted by some rogue vigilante. Not exactly our finest hour.”

You turn to Dick with a weak, unintelligible croak. “And what, you didn’t think to double-check?”

“I am aware of how ridiculous we look right now.”

You wince as you lift your fingers to your temple, massaging it gently. Peering down at Damian through your lashes, you glare. “Ugh. You know... you threw me against the floor pretty hard...”

“I did not mean to hurt you,” Damian seethes, mouth dry and throat tight with regret. “But please, help me understand. What’s really going on?”

“You didn’t exactly make it easy to talk when you slammed me into the ground,” you mumble, tone edging toward petulant. “Hard to spill your guts when you’re worried about them actually spilling out, you know?”

You know you’re being a bit petty, but after everything, it feels justified. The pain throbbing in your temple only fuels your irritation, so you rub it harder, hoping you can massage away the ache.

Damian’s eyes flash with hurt, and you instantly taste bitterness in your mouth, regret gnawing at your conscience.

“Sorry,” you mumble, trying to soften the blow. “Okay, let’s go over everything, yeah?”

You start to strip off whatever was left of your armor, the pieces clattering to the floor with a dull thud. Rolling up the sleeves of your undershirt, you extend your arms, revealing the small dots on your wrists.

“I got bitten by a radioactive spider,” you begin. “Trained for a while. Months, actually. Been Spidey ever since. Lately, the media’s been calling me Nightcrawler. I’ve been stopping muggings, robberies, saving Morgan—twice, by the way. She saved me after I got shot. Then blackmailed me into letting her be my ‘guy in the chair. Then I infiltrated a shipment tied to Black Mask. Morgan built me this new suit. I got interviewed while lifting a helicopter with one hand, and... yeah, I ended up getting velocity edits on TikTok. Then, we hit up Poison Ivy’s old warehouse tonight, and Damian tried to hunt me down. And... here we are.”

Damian stares at you, his expression unreadable. Dick remains frozen, caught off guard. Morgan shifts awkwardly, reaching into her pocket and slowly pulling out her phone, waving it in the air.

“Do you guys want to see the edits?”

You shoot her a withering look.

“Shut up,” you groan, throwing a piece of your armor at her.

Morgan ducks, her phone clattering to the floor. Pouting, she picks it up with a scoff. “Alright, alright. I get it.”

She shoves the phone back into her pocket with a huff. “No more distractions.”

“So…” Dick crosses his arms. “You’ve been doing this alone? All this time?” 

“Not alone,” you clarify, glancing at Morgan. “Morgan’s been helping me. Keeping me sane. And... I’ve had Selina’s guidance.”

“And good thing too,” Morgan adds, her voice taking on a more serious note. She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a small, sleek device—a handheld scanner designed to detect injuries.

You straighten up, already familiar with the drill. Morgan’s device emits a soft, rhythmic beep as she runs it over your body, her eyes flicking to the screen.

PEPPER’s voice begins to speak, calm and clinical. “Regenerative healing is in progress. The antidote is fully effective, expected to take effect in about 30 minutes. Current injuries: broken ribs, fractured ankle, head gash, deep abrasions, and internal bruising. Estimated healing time: 7 hours. A bath is recommended for disinfection.”

Morgan, visibly relieved by the update, lets out a sigh of relief. She ruffles her hair, shutting off the device with a satisfying click. Her gaze sweeps over the room, trying to gauge the mood.

“Well,” Morgan says, trying to sound upbeat despite the circumstances, “you heard her.”

You shuffle across the room, your movements slow and deliberate. The bloodstains have been cleaned up, and the glass shards are gone, but the broken window still stands open, letting in a draft that makes you shiver. You can't help but think about how you'll explain this mess to Selina later—if she doesn’t kill you first.

"You guys should head out," you murmur, glancing back at them. "Mom will be back soon."

“You guys should head out,” you murmur, glancing back at them. “Mom will be back soon.”

Damian snaps to his feet, his voice firm. “I’m not leaving.”

Morgan huffs, crossing her arms. “Yeah. No way. I’m staying put.”

You blink slowly at the two of them, a mix of affection and resignation in your eyes. “Okay. Kinda expected that.”

Turning to Dick, who’s been standing off to the side, you raise an eyebrow, silently pleading for some backup.

“I’ll… go,” Dick finally says, holding up his hands in surrender. “It makes more sense if both of them are here, but not exactly me.”

You nod appreciatively, a flicker of relief crossing your face. 

Dick moves toward a non-broken window but pauses, casting one last glance over his shoulder.

“I won’t tell B.”

“I know,” you murmur, offering him a faint, forced smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

“But… he’ll know eventually.”

“… I know.”

Dick’s nod carries the weight of the unspoken, a silent agreement between you. He steps onto the sill, the night air brushing past him, and the curtains flutter gently in his wake. The soft rustling of the fabric is the only sound as he disappears into the darkness.

You take a step towards the window to close it, but Damian strides over, cutting you off as he shuts it for you. 

You blink up at him.

“You’re still injured,” he says simply.

Oh boy. You can already feel the arguments bubbling up, ready to spill out—reasons to defend your choices, to insist that you’re fine, that you can handle it. But the fight drains out of you before it begins. You’re too tired, too worn down from everything that’s happened.

“Alright,” you murmur. Your eyes drift to the remnants of your suit, lying crumpled on the floor, torn and battered. “Hey, Morgz. Can you handle… that?”

Morgan follows your gaze to the suit, then nods. 

“Sure thing,” she replies, already moving toward it in fix-it mode, likely running through a mental checklist of what she needs to do to patch it up.

Turning back to Damian, you step closer, slipping your hands over his shoulders. His muscles are coiled tight beneath your touch, like springs wound too tightly. 

You give his shoulders a gentle squeeze, your fingers pressing into the solid muscle, trying to ease some of the tension, even if just a little.

“As for you… we really need to get changed,” you whisper. “We’re soaking the floors here.”

Damian nods silently, following you into the apartment’s bathroom. The door clicks shut behind you, sealing off the rest of the world.

With gentle hands, Damian reaches for your undershirt, his fingers brushing against your skin as he helps you peel the damp fabric away. The material clings stubbornly, but he works patiently, careful not to rush or cause you any discomfort. Finally, the shirt comes free, and he lets it fall to the floor.

He kneels down, his hands steady as he slips your pants down your legs, his touch light and deliberate, as if he’s handling something fragile. Once the clothes are off, he lets them drop with a soft thud, his eyes flicking back up to meet yours.

Without a word, he turns to the shower, twisting the knob until water rushes out in a steady stream. Warmth seeps into the air, the foggy mirror reflecting the both of you in a hazy outline. 

Damian wastes no time unclasping his cape, letting it fall to the floor in a dark, heavy pool. He then quickly strips out of his tunic, the fabric clinging stubbornly to his skin before he pulls it off with a yank. 

The tunic lands in a crumpled heap beside the cape, and your gaze is drawn to the red "R" emblazoned on his uniform. Your eyes lift to find Damian’s bare chest revealed—bronze skin etched with hard-earned muscle and a long, faded scar that traces a path across his ribcage. 

Tugging his hands up, you began to slip off his gloves, the dark stain of blood transferring to your own skin. The crimson smear seeped down your fingers, dripping onto the bathroom floor and forming dark, splotchy patterns on the tiles. 

When the blood was gone from his hands, you didn’t let go. Instead, you held onto his hands, feeling the slight tremor in them. 

You stayed like that, holding his hands until the shaking subsided, until the tremors ceased and the strength you knew he had began to return to his grip. 

Damian tightens his grip on your hand and pulls you under the shower with him, the warm water cascading over your bodies in a soothing wave. It’s a relief, the heat working its way into your sore muscles, washing away the grime, blood, and sweat from your skin. 

For a moment, neither of you speak.

Silently, you trace a nail along a scar on his collarbone. The only sound is the steady patter of water against tile.

"I'm going to start patrolling with you."

You feel a muscle twitch in your jaw as Damian says that.

"Damian, you're not patrolling with me."

"Yes, I am."

"Damian, no."

"Damian, yes," he insists. “I'm coming with you. I've seen Gotham, and I've been doing this much longer than you have."

“Rub it in. Okay,” you scoff. 

“Beloved, I’m trained for this.”

“I’m perfectly capable of handling this on my own.”

“That’s not the point. You can’t predict every danger.”

He’s not backing down. And you know, deep down, that this isn’t a battle you’re going to win.

With a strangled groan that rumbles up your throat, you lean into his chest, the warm, solid presence of him offering a small comfort. 

“Ugh. Fine, but I’m the one who gets to pick out the patrol routes.”

 ༻⊰───⋅

Saturday, 3:02 AM - Crime Alley, Gotham City.

A whip drags across the crumbling floor of the rooftop, its leather coiling and uncoiling with each step, like a serpent following its master. The sharp clicks of heels against the roof echo through the stillness of the night.

A bag, stuffed with Selina’s latest haul, is slung casually over her shoulder, the weight barely slowing her down. The contents shift with each step, the muted clink of stolen treasures singing to her. 

She hums a low, sultry tune, the sound barely more than a whisper against the backdrop of the city’s quiet. Her gaze sweeps across the rooftop and lands on her apartment building. Her eyes narrow at the sight of a broken window. 

The playful melody dies on her lips, her steps slowing to a halt. Seems a stray found its way in.

With a quick flick of her tongue against her teeth, she leaps down to the fire escape.

The faint creak of metal under her heels is the only sound as she crouches. The sight that greets her sends alarms ringing in her head—the door to her apartment is kicked open, the metal railing bent and dented, signs of a struggle or a forceful entry.

Selina creeps closer, moving silently as she readies herself. But suddenly, she freezes. The sound of voices drifts through the walls, muffled yet unmistakably clear.

"—f we like... cut off your hand, do you think it'll grow back?"

"I dunno. Wanna try cutting my hand off, Morgz?"

"What?! Habibti. No. Absolutely not."

"But think about the science! What if her arm grows back, like, full-on lizard style?"

"Yeah, but what if it grows back all freaky? Like, what if I end up with two thumbs or something?"

"Or better—what if you grow back a tentacle?"

"Oh my God. I could totally kick ass as a walking calamari."

"Are you two out of your damn minds? I forbid it. We're not amputating anything."

"Killjoy."

Selina walks in, her eyes narrowing as she takes in the scene. The three of you are curled up on the sofa, with a ridiculous TV show playing in the background that no one is actually watching.

Her gaze locks on Morgan, and she quickly realizes she needs to keep her presence discreet. With a swift glance around, she silently slips into her bedroom.

Moments later, she reemerges in civilian clothes. She steps back out of the apartment, pretends to head down the hallway, then doubles back and quietly slips inside once more.

Damian is the first to notice her, and he immediately tenses, like a kid caught doing something he shouldn't.

"Do I even want to know what's going on here?" Selina asks, one eyebrow arching as she looks at the three of you.

Damian straightens up, attempting to look composed.

Morgan smiles sheepishly, "Hello, Miss Selina."

You shift uncomfortably, letting out a sigh. 

“Hey, Mom.” You nod towards the broken window, and Selina’s gaze follows. “So… um, things got a little out of hand tonight.”

Selina's eyes flick between the broken window and the three of you. "You think?

She tries to shut the door behind her, but it barely clings to the frame, tilting awkwardly on its splintered hinges. The wood creaks in protest, a low groan that echoes through the room as she shoves it into place.

Damian flushes, his shoulders hunching as if trying to make himself smaller, knowing full well he’s the one responsible for the damage. You place a reassuring hand on his thigh, tapping gently, hoping to ease his embarrassment. 

The knowing look Selina sends him suggests she’s already pieced together what happened.

She moves toward you, her expression softening as she gently cradles your face in her hands. Her fingers trace lightly over your injuries, each caress a soothing balm that feels like gentle rain easing the parched earth.

“Hey, ma,” you murmur, leaning into her touch, savoring the soothing sensation. You close your eyes for a moment, letting her warmth envelop you, grounding you.

You lean into her touch, feeling the exhaustion of the night seep away as her warmth envelopes you. She meets your gaze with a tender, concerned look, her eyes brimming with both worry and motherly affection.

"What happened to your face?" Selina starts. Her eyes flick from the bruises on your arms to the bandaged cut on your forehead, then to the dark circles under your eyes. "And what the hell did you do to my apartment?"

You wince but try to shrug it off nonchalantly. “Oh, this? Yeah. Yeah, I was… uh, fixing the window.”

“Fixing the window?” she repeats. “Why? You do know we have repairs scheduled monthly?”

“Whaaat?” you gasp, playing up your confusion. “I mean, I’m sure it needed it. Maybe.”

“It wasn’t even broken before I left. Did you break it on purpose just to fix it?”

You blink, looking baffled. “Seemed like a good idea at the time?”

“Um! Mrs. Selina,” Morgan chimes in, her tone awkward. “Actually, you see, we’ve got this event at Stark Industries coming up. We were, uh, testing some new tech, and it didn’t go exactly as planned.”

You jump in, nodding vigorously. Morgan discreetly hands you a small gadget, which you hold up for Selina to see. “Right. I didn’t expect it to work as well as it did. We were hoping for a few tweaks, but it kind of... overperformed.”

Selina eyes the gadget and shakes her head. “Overperformed? Is that what you’re calling it now?”

Morgan hums. "Yep, pretty much. The tech’s still in beta, so it’s got some quirks.”

Selina just nods, clearly unimpressed. "Still. Did you have to experiment in my apartment? I still remember that time you overcharged a set of batteries for a project and nearly blew up the kitchen."

You cringe, rubbing the back of your neck. “That was in fourth grade.”

“Ten-year-olds don’t typically run experiments on household electronics and nearly blow up the kitchen. That’s when I knew something was wrong with you,” Selina says, her gaze drifting to Damian, confusion gradually clouding her features. “And why is he here?”

“I’m helping with the project and the funding,” Damian quips, the lie slipping off his tongue like silk as he glances at you for confirmation. “Isn’t that right, beloved?”

You nod, playing along. “Yeah, that’s right.”

Selina’s eyes narrow as she processes this. “Isn’t Stark Tech rich enough to cover all of this?”

Morgan shrugs casually. “Oh, sure, Stark’s handling the main tech stuff. But Damian’s covering the extra costs—like her decorations and outfits for the semi-formal event.”

Damian steps in, his tone polite but firm. "Precisely why we came to your apartment, Miss Kyle. I was hoping to ask for your permission to take her out tomorrow. We’ll be shopping for her gown. And if you’d like, you could join us."

You blink, caught off guard. "Uh..."

Selina considers Damian’s question for a moment, then shakes her head with a sigh. "No can do. I have a... job arranged tomorrow. And I need to get that—" she points to the broken window with a frown—"looked at."

Ruffling her hair in frustration, she turns back toward her bedroom. "You have my permission, though. Just please—don’t turn my apartment into a lab next time."

"Thanks," you rush out, your voice a bit too eager. "Love you, Mom!"

Selina pauses at the doorway, humming in acknowledgment. She casts one last, assessing glance at the mess, her eyes narrowing slightly, before slipping into her room and muttering about needing to call a repair service again. 

As the door swings shut behind her, you let out a quiet sigh of relief, feeling the tension slowly ease from your shoulders.

Morgan turns to you. "That was close."

“Too close,” you agree, then turn to Damian with a scowl. “What the hell? You realize we actually have to go shopping tomorrow, right?”

Damian hums, his gaze settling on you with that infuriatingly charming smolder—dark, intense, and undeniably attractive. “Yes, I do.”

You groan, rolling your eyes. “Are you doing this to try and make up?”

Damian’s expression shifts, a flicker of something dark crossing his face. It boiled his blood to think about this, but he had a habit of torturing himself over mistakes.

“It’s the least I could do,” he murmurs. “I almost…”

He trails off, lost in thought. His gaze turns distant, haunted. “I thought, if I could at least do something—anything—to make up for it, maybe it would help... even a little.”

You reach out, placing a hand gently on his arm. 

“Nope. None of that,” you hush him softly. “We’re moving forward. We both are.”

Damian nods slowly, his shoulders relaxing a fraction. You rub his arm soothingly, then turn to Morgan with a raised brow. Morgan shrugs and holds up her hands in a mock surrender.

“The tech event is a real thing,” Morgan says, her tone matter-of-fact. “You didn’t think the internship was just a cover-up for all of this, did you?”

“Seriously? You guys actually have an event planned?” you ask, disbelief creeping into your voice.

“Yep. It’s the real deal and going to be a big deal. The whole fancy gown and decorations? Totally legit. We just had a few... detours so I couldn’t tell you.”

“What?” you groan, frustration mounting. “You didn’t tell me about this. I don’t even have a project ready to show!”

Morgan waves a dismissive hand, her grin widening. "Don’t worry, I’ll help with that. You still got a week and you’re a genius. The event’s about showcasing potential, not just completed projects. We can work something up, no sweat."

You roll your eyes. "Great, so we’re officially winging a multimillion-dollar internship offer that every single press outlet in Gotham is covering. No pressure, right?"

“Right.”

 ༻⊰───⋅

Saturday, 4:13 AM - Stark Tower, Gotham City.

The elevator doors slide open with a soft whoosh, revealing the dimly lit tech area of Stark Tower. You and Morgan step out, with Damian trailing behind, his arm wrapped firmly around your waist. 

Despite your protests about your healing ankle, he supported you the entire way here. The pain was mostly gone, but Damian’s insistence on playing nurse seems stronger than your actual injury.

The three of you step out of the elevator and begin walking down the corridor. The air is crisp and slightly cool, carrying the faint scent of metal and polished surfaces. 

“Dad wants you to give the opening speech, by the way,” Morgan says, threading her fingers through her hair as she leads you both around a turn in the hallway. 

“Seriously? I’m not really a speech person,” you reply, knocking your shoe into hers. “Why don’t you do it instead?”

Morgan flashes a knowing smirk as she turns to walk backwards, facing you. “I’d love to, but Dad’s adamant about it. He’s all about that ‘new face of Stark Tech’ thing.”

A shudder of disgust visibly ripples through Damian.

“A marketing ploy,” he sneers. “Stark’s fully aware the media will devour the drama between our rival companies and turn it into a spectacle. Of course, Wayne Tech never needed such gimmicks to maintain its edge.”

Morgan chuckles, shaking her head. “Nah, I think he just wants to adopt her.”

The three of you turn a corner and enter a grand space where the hallway opens up into a wide, two-story room. Despite the hour, the floor-to-ceiling windows flood the area with a soft, muted glow from the city lights outside. 

At the center of the room, Tony lounges casually on one of the plush sofas. Gadgets and tools are strewn about him, and he’s engrossed in tinkering with a small device. He looks up as you approach, adjusting his glasses.

“Hey, kids. Didn’t expect you back so soon.”

“Hey, Mr. Stark. Fancy meeting you here,” you murmur, trying to keep the mood light despite your exhaustion.

“I live here.” Tony wipes his hands on a rag, tossing the gadget onto the coffee table in front of him. Crossing his arms, he leans back against the couch. “Who’s your little boy toy? You cheating on Morgan now?”

Damian’s face flushes with irritation, his jaw tightening. You can’t help but snort and rest your cheek against Damian’s shoulder, your grin widening at his discomfort.

“This is the famous Daryll,” you snark, giving Tony a sidelong glance.

Tony’s gaze bores into Damian, taking in the dark, brooding aura that seems to cling to him like a second skin. The kid looks like he’s stepped straight out of a Twilight movie, with those piercing green eyes smoldering beneath furrowed brows, carrying a weight far beyond his years.

It didn’t help that Damian was also the son of a billionaire. Tony remembers him from his younger years—back then, he was a pipsqueak, a sharp-tongued brat who acted like he owned the world.

Now, he’s taller, lean, and strong, with a coiled tension in his frame. That same intense, self-assured vibe still lingers, but it’s darker now, more honed like he’s seen too much and come out the other side more dangerous for it.

 “Nice to meet you, Twilight Reject,” Tony says, pushing himself up and extending his hand to Damian. "Put 'em up."

Damian’s eyes flick to Tony’s hand with a look of absolute revulsion, as if it were some particularly vile insect. He hesitates for a moment, then grudgingly extends his own hand. His grip is firm, almost painfully so, as if he’s trying to crush the perceived insult out of Tony’s hand.

“It’s Damian. Damian Wayne,” he says, drawing out and emphasizing his last name, the irritation barely masked.

"Yeah. I know who you are," Tony scoffs, turning to you with a raised brow. “What’s the deal? Did you lose a bet or something? You're dating someone with all the personality of a damp towel."

“It’s called having standards, something you might not be familiar with,” Damian snaps back, his tone biting.

You sigh, sliding Damian's arm off of you and wincing slightly as you put weight on your uninjured foot. Stepping between the two of them, you raise a hand in a placating gesture. “Alright, alright! Let’s not turn this into a pissing contest.”

“It’s been a rough night, and we all need some rest,” Morgan interjects, her tone weary as she empties her jacket pockets, gadgets clattering onto the table. She tosses her backpack across the room, where it lands with a heavy thud.

Gesturing toward the sleeping quarters, she adds, “Can we save the bickering for later? They’ve got somewhere important to be tomorrow.”

Tony squints. “And where exactly are you two going?”

“Tt…” Damian tilts his head towards the man. “We have a dress appointment scheduled for tomorrow. Naturally, I’m covering all the expenses.”

“A dress appointment, huh?” Tony steps closer, his hand resting on your shoulder. “Well, someone’s got to make sure Sneakers here doesn’t end up in a ditch, so I’m coming along, Daniel.”

“It’s Damian,” he corrects. “And no, that won’t be necessary. We can handle it on our own.”

“Zip it, Dylan. I’m the one organizing this shindig, so I’d like to ensure my top intern doesn’t end up looking like a rag doll.”

Damian’s lip curls slightly. “If you insist on being there, then I’ll have to bring my father along as well. As her top donor, he should oversee it too, don’t you think?”

You blink, caught off guard. That’s a stretch. Bruce Wayne’s never actually thrown cash at your extracurriculars—though he’s tried, insisting on it more than once. Even tried to sneak you and Selina money through some probably illegal wire transfer, but you never took it.

“Oh, please. Anyone can throw money around,” Tony retorts. “He’s not special.”

“Well. If you have a problem with that,” Damian murmurs coldly, “you’re welcome to voice it to him. Tomorrow.”

Tony coughs, barely stifling his laugh. “Oh, I’m sure I can handle some prissy playboy,” he says, clapping his hands together. “Can’t wait to see how that goes.”

Your brow creases in concern.

Oh, you really don’t want to see how that goes.

 ༻⊰───⋅

IM SO SORRY ITS LATE! HAD TO REWRITE A SCENE BC THE DRAFT GOT LOST :(

Next chap out soon </3 It's the weekends so it'll be quicker

Also I'm gonna rework some of the earlier chapters :P (Just tweaking writing a little no plot changes at all)

[nirmaltexim]

Cut to Length Line Machine Manufacturer

Title: Enhancing Precision and Efficiency: The Role of Cut to Length Line Machine Manufacturers

Introduction: In the dynamic world of manufacturing, precision and efficiency are paramount to meet the demands of modern industries. Cut to length (CTL) line machines play a crucial role in producing accurately sized and shaped metal sheets, catering to diverse applications across sectors. This blog explores the significance of Cut to Length Line Machine Manufacturers, their contributions to the manufacturing industry, and the key features that make these machines indispensable.

Understanding Cut to Length Line Machines:A Cut to Length Line Machine is an advanced industrial equipment designed to process coilsof various metals, including steel, aluminum, and stainless steel. These machines can uncoil the metal coil, level it, and cut it into precise lengths and widths as per the required specifications. They are widely used in industries such as automotive, construction, appliance manufacturing, and metal fabrication.

The Importance of Precision: One of the primary advantages of Cut to Length Line Machines is their ability to achieve exceptional precision. Manufacturers rely on these machines to consistently produce metal sheets with precise dimensions, ensuring compatibility with downstream processes and reducing material wastage. Precision is especially critical when industries demand tight tolerances and strict quality control measures.

Customization for Diverse Applications: A reputable Cut to Length Line Machine Manufacturer understands the diversity of manufacturing needs. As such, they offer a range of customization options to meet specific requirements. From adjustable cutting lengths to variable sheet widths and advanced control systems, these machines can be tailored to match the unique demands of various industries.

High-Speed Production: Time is money in the manufacturing world, and Cut to Length Line Machines are designed with efficiency in mind. These machines can process coils at impressive speeds, significantly increasing productivity and shortening production cycles. The ability to handle high volumes of material swiftly makes these machines invaluable for large-scale manufacturing operations.

Quality Control and Safety: Top Cut to Length Line Machine Manufacturers prioritize quality control and safety. They adhere to international standards to ensure the machines meet the highest quality benchmarks. Additionally, safety features are integrated into the machine's design to protect operators and prevent accidents during operation.

Technological Advancements: Innovations in manufacturing technology are continuously evolving, and reputable manufacturers stay at the forefront of these advancements. Advanced Cut to Length Line Machines are equipped with cutting-edge automation, precision measurement systems, and intuitive user interfaces, making them user-friendly and efficient.

Streamlining Workflow and Cost Savings: By investing in high-quality Cut to Length Line Machines, manufacturers can streamline their production workflow and achieve significant cost savings in the long run. The reduction in material waste, improved efficiency, and consistent output contribute to a more sustainable and profitable manufacturing process.

Conclusion: Cut to Length Line Machine Manufacturers play a vital role in enhancing the precision, efficiency, and overall productivity of modern manufacturing industries. Their dedication to quality, innovation, and customization empowers businesses to meet the ever-changing demands of the market. As manufacturing technologies continue to evolve, these machines will remain a cornerstone of efficient metal sheet processing, shaping industries and driving progress across the globe.

[gaiathemexicanbeauty]

desperate sex with sanji | sanji drabble (18+)

18+ POST SO MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

sanji and you have been waiting all day and you're finally alone ♡

warnings: nsfw without barely any plot below the line, lots of praise, men whimpering (yeahhahahhahahah), p in v, afab reader!, pretty much quick and fast sex lol, this is mostly for anime sanji but i'm not gonna be the one to limit who you want this to be

"been w-waiting for this alllll dayy.." sanji whines as he pushes your legs up and apart, looking down at you with a look that elicits a soft moan out of you. it's not like you hadn't seen him all day; in fact, you had spent the day running errands together, cooked lunch together, all the good stuff that comes out of being in a relationship. what had set the two of you off was everything that had conspired that morning. your head in sanji's lap and sucking him for all he was worth, soft moans leaving you every time his fingers stroked deep inside you. the two of you had been SO close, you could have gone to sleep that night without thinking of having sex but a hard knock at the door had gone and ruined the whole thing. but now you were alone again.

sanji buries his face in your breasts with a shaky sigh of relief, a soft gasp leaving you when you feel him lick a stripe between them. your back arches as soft whines leave you when his lips find your nipples and suck on them until he leaves them perky and raw, leaving sloppy kisses on them before he pulls away. "you're absolutely stunning like this.." he says in between pants, shakily starting to line himself up with your slit. "p-please, sanji, hurry, pleeease.." you moan when he rubs only his tip against you, clearly trying to make this last. "i know, i know, beautiful, i'll make you feel so good soon, i promise." he says with a shaky voice, finally letting himself slip past your slit and making the two of you moan in unison.

he really had planned to take it easy, let the moment last like he normally did. but once he felt the way you clenched around him, he knew he was done for. a desperate sort of sound leaves him before he immediately starts to pound into you, making a loud moan leave you as your hands find his hair and tug on it. he nearly drools at the feeling, swallowing thickly as he pushes your legs further back for more access and to watch the way your breasts bounce with each thrust. "gods, p-please, gorgeous.." he whines as he massages your thighs, beads of sweat already beginning to form on his forehead. you can barely do anything but babble, too blissed out to do anything but take him. "soooo nice and tight for me, t-thank you for m-making me feel so goood." he says, the occasional whimper leaving him with every stroke inside of you.

more quickly than he wants, he can feel the coil inside him of tightening to the point of no return, a pathetic cry leaving him as he pushes your legs further apart to wrap them around his waist. he buries his face in between your breasts again, making you let out a cry of your own as he considerably picks up the pace of his hips; his words are becoming so slurred you can barely understand him. "pleasebabyplease, inside, l-let me cuminside, oh g-gods!" he cries out, leaving sloppy kisses over any skin he can reach. "p-pleaseee!" is the only response you can manage, pulling at his hair as you feel your own orgasm washing over you. before he even realizes it, pathetic whines and whimpers are slipping out of him as he cums hard, not stopping his hips for anything as you can only meet his own sounds with loud moans. your thighs twitch and shake as you let sanji ride out his orgasm, something that proves hard with the way he can't seem to get enough. without pausing, he gives you a breathless smile, this time grabbing your hips to press them impossibly closer to his. "o-one more time?"

can you guess who my favorite one piece character is yet another drabble before class bc i have 4 hours of nothing to do LMAOAO

[prettyboychoso]

Needy Natsu Headcanons

Natsu Dragneel x Reader

been thinking about Natsu who ignores his needs for so long, but he finally breaks and comes to you for help

cw: smut (18+ mdni), oral (f!receiving), biting, multiple rounds, creampie, unprotected sex, hurt/comfort (if you squint?)

.85k words | masterlist

Natsu Dragneel who doesn’t really think about sex until he’s beyond pent up, emotionally vulnerable, and in desperate need of intimacy.

Natsu Dragneel who, trapped beneath his lighthearted exterior, is wracked with guilt — anxious and emotionally exhausted from watching the people he loves suffer, risking their lives for the greater good, day in and day out.

Natsu Dragneel who comes to you after a particularly hard job, mind both buzzing and numb all at once, body nearly shaking at the fear and anxiety from the last few jobs that refused to leave him, whimpering out a quiet “I need you,” in the most broken, heartbreakingly desperate voice you’ve ever heard from him.

Natsu Dragneel who nearly collapses into you when you let him in, pawing at your sides with shaky desperation, kissing you softly, needily, craving the comfort and warmth you bring to him.

Natsu Dragneel who continues his tender kisses as he gently guides you onto your back, sliding a hand beneath the hem of your shirt with a whisper of “can I?”, gently pulling it over your head when you nod in confirmation, returning his lips gingerly to yours as soon as the fabric is past your face. 

Natsu Dragneel who trails soft, needy kisses down your jaw, along your neck and collarbones, nipping small, needy bites at the flesh of your chest, holding you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go.

Natsu Dragneel whose trail of kisses leads him to the front of your jeans, hooking a finger through the loops on either side of your hips as he searches your face for permission, pulling them down and off you when you let out a breathy “mhmm” in response.

Natsu Dragneel who wouldn’t dare even think about the aching of his cock in his pants before making sure he’s taken care of you, wrapping his hands around the fat of your thighs, breath fanning over your inner thigh as he trails small nipping kisses upwards, licking a long languid stripe up your slit when he finally reaches your cunt, sending electric warmth coursing through your body.

Natsu Dragneel who eats your pussy languorously — slow, indulgent movements sending jolts of electricity through your body as you shake under him, warmth pooling and tightness coiling in your stomach as you shake under him, his fingers digging into the plush flesh of your thighs. 

Natsu Dragneel who groans softly when you cum on his face, lapping up your spilled juices with soft kitten licks before detaching himself from your sopping cunt, trailing soft, messy kisses back up your body; upon reaching your face, he graces your lips with a deep kiss and a whisper of “you okay?” before finally releasing his cock from his pants, tossing them aside and lining himself up with your entrance when you breathe out a “yeah.”

Natsu Dragneel who sighs out shaky, breathy whimpers as he slowly sinks into you, hands grabbing earnestly at your sides as he reattaches his lips to yours, stifling your whimpers as you feel his cock drag along your walls. 

Natsu Dragneel who holds you close as he fucks you — slowly, amorously — unable to hold you as tightly as he needs for fear of hurting you, but deathly afraid that if he holds you any less you’ll disappear from beneath him. 

Natsu Dragneel who’s ignored his own needs for so long that his first orgasm comes too quickly, shaking above you as he buries his face into your neck, asking if it’s okay to keep going when it barely does anything to soften his stiffened cock, whispering breathy thanks when you tell him you can go as long as he needs, pressing a rough thumb into your clit as he starts moving again, pulling a gasp from you.

Natsu Dragneel who takes several orgasms to finally release the tension both in his cock and his body, finally pulling out of you with tired, shaky movements — a whimper escapes you as you feel his thick cock exit your tired cunt, creamy white liquid spilling out of you as you finally relax your aching body, gasping for air beneath him.

Natsu Dragneel who breathe heavily above you for a few moments before wrapping his arms tightly around you, pressing a soft, needy kiss to your lips — as you wrap your arms around him as well, he nuzzles his face into your neck and holds you even tighter as he lays next to you, body tense and holding yours until he finally, finally falls asleep to the feeling of your fingers carding through his hair and rubbing slow circles in his back, whispering to him that everything is going to be okay. 

Natsu Dragneel whose body aches constantly — from the strain of constant travel and fighting, the strain of being the wizard that everyone is always counting on to save them, the strain of being Fiore’s constant salvation — but who finally feels a fragment of peace when he comes to you like this, allowing himself to be vulnerable, to be needy, be selfish, to be held, and to let somebody else take care of him for just a little while.

oof not normally much of a Natsu stan but I'm rewatching the show again and the Tartaros arc got me feeling some things. something about soft but like needy-and-about-to-break Natsu just tickles my brain rn. first time writing in like 4 years, first time writing smut ever so that's fun, idk how I feel about it but we'll see I guess.

please do not copy or repost. thanks!

[pregmothy]

Naga king and his new human

You are the newest concubine in a Naga King's collection. In an agreement between his kingdom and yours, you were sent as a representative of your people to join the king's haram. You were at a sort of loss; you were but a small human in this swarm of nagas dressed in jewels and fine silks. They didn't have anything that fit you, so you had to make your own clothes from their silks and fix your own jewelry with whatever small pieces you could find. You felt out of place amidst their shiny scales. The great equalizer was, however, how you were expected to bear the king's children.

Again, you were a bit out of your element. Nagas were oviparous, and there was worry throughout the court if your body would be able to handle it. So until the day came, they decided it was best to get you comfortable with your expected duties with some "Exposure therapy."

You sat in on EVERYTHING, from lessons for the concubines to their cooking to cultural events to even bathing, which left you a little flustered. But not as much as the nightly duties; you sat in as the other naga tended to the king and learned a lot about naga anatomy in the process. Naga sex is so ROUGH. The first time you saw the king's two, not one but two, giant cock's emerge from his slit, you almost choked on your own spit. Long, thick, and TWO OF THEM, yeah, you now understood the apprehension, but you watched anyway. You watched as they kissed, long tongues slithering down throats, clawed hands grabbing at areas of exceptionally soft skin. It was a whole nother world compared to human sex. You watched as their tails curled around each other, and the king finally lined up one of this cock's with the concubine's slit; almost on command, the slit opened and gaped for the king, and he entered without a second thought. You sat there, watching their coiling bodies, and imagined yourself in the concubine's place, wondering if the king would do the same to you. You didn't have a naga tail, and you're almost certain your slit can't just open on command. Would he be rough with you like that? Would you like it? Would he coil around your body, bending your arms and legs so you couldn't move while he takes you without abandon? You hate to admit, or maybe you don't, that the thought of it riles you up and has you shuffling in your seat, hoping for some friction to relieve the minor but encroaching ache.

The birthing process was also a hurdle you had to overcome, so like with everything, you sat in on the other concubines laying their clutches. It was stressful in that room; surrounded by attendents, the room was hot and busting with energy. You watched as the concubines were tended to, almost pampered, as naga birth was less... active than human birth but even more lengthy with the large number of eggs they had to lay. You watched as each egg slowly slipped out of their holes, one by one, a wet plop accompanying their descent. You watched intently, the slight bump under skin as the eggs traveled down to their holes before falling out into the rest of the pile.

It didn't look pleasant, but it looked... stimulating. Your senses would be overwhelmed as your body pushes out egg after apple-sized egg. You watched, intrigued, facinated at how they could perform such a feat. You lay in bed at night, imagining how it felt. Did hormones numb the feeling, or could you feel every inch of each egg as they traveled through you? Did it feel good? The occasional wave of pleasure amidst a sea of discomfort. Each day, you watched, and each night, you lay staring at the ceiling as you fantasized about the shape and feel of every egg eventually passing through your body. After a while, you couldn't help but look forward to it. To the day you would finally be taken and made for sire a brood. While you're sure the experience may be glamorized in your sexually pent-up eyes, you can't help but fanaticize, obsess, or desire the experience. The passionate sex, the feeling of being filled with eggs, and the intimacy of laying them make your head spin in ways it never has before, and you don't know if you'll ever be the same.

Now, being all riled up at everything you've witnessed, the king was surprised at how eagerly you wiggled your soaked cunt against his cocks.

[astralnymphh]

Okay I have this little thought of fucking ellie in lotus position and I literally can’t get it out of my head

Sorry if this is weird I just feel like you could do it justice if you’re comfortable😭

omgg lotus position. that's like.. perfect for ellie cause she loves you straddling her and boobs.. and grabbing handfuls of ass meat. I'll do a little blurb on this but honestly might incorporate this position in a future fic. this feels a bit lazy but i swear im just saving my brain as i start saccharine saturations 2. MDNI ౨ৎ

lotus position with ellie ౨ৎ

let me paint the perspective on this blank canvas. the girl before you, ruby–eared as the budding roses of spring and swamping her sights in you, intoxication, a budding lust to be. the absolute hormone spurts you get whenever ellie drags you atop her lap is utterly intoxicating, utterly. you, sitting vis–à–vis. both of you undertaking the nude. her knees, bent to a perfect splay that opens a little seat just for you, a fleshy, cushiony, linen bedsheet crater. fair skin awash in tawny light, courtesy of the floor lamp abutting to the bed. a light that also reflects a shimmer string off the solid base of her strap, diagonally rested between those manspread legs. chartreuse green encapsulated in a bedroom–eye droopy–lid gaze surrounded by reeds of her deep amber esque lashes curving so softly from her puffy waterlines. an expression that says 'come sit on my lap pretty girl.' while she loiters one of those lusty hands to pose and dab her thigh gently– rippling the tight skin barely and croaking a smoky whisper, "c'mon baby, m' all ready for you now." as her lip corners tug a toothy smirk, folding the bottom lip under to bite. it coils back out, so pliantly, she lures you in tender.

ellie would fuck you so good in lotus. maddenly so, spires of her knobby digits grapple and hook on your ass, soothing softness leaven as milk bread. hairs on her arms, bitsy and tickle inducing, lie plumb from your thighs to your hips and are clasped in the soft layer of elasticity. she kneads your butt like malleable dough and spreads you wide on her pumping cock, lubricous laces lashing from your stuffed slit. the pressure exuded in her fingertips line your ass so perfectly to her roll of hip, she can fuck up into your cunt just right. in this angle, she deepens within you, and you take her unconditionally. plop, plop, palp, the slickening of cum glazes your underside thoroughly and crafts a wet slap whenever her dense hips rut into your cushy pussy lips. in your blurred numbness she finds a mania in seeing you all dog–panting and white–eyed, craning close and curling those sun–baked lips flush on your breast, "fuck that pussy back on me, mhmm, good girl.." brushing skin with her muffled coax. you bounce your bottom in sync with hers, creating a on beat rhythm, but in return her cock bottoms out deeper inside to the point of bulging a knob in your belly. on an ellie's perspective note, she fucking loves suckling upon your tender, risen nipples during sex, so this position basically emboldened her to put those eager lips to use. her gob caves an 'o' shape over your nipple and excitedly flicks her textured tongue over the nub, ever the more inflaming your pussy with euphoria. you card knuckles in her tuft of auburn hair, yanking a grip of locks to which ellie gives your nipple a teensy bite, getting you to yelp. ugh, can't you just visualize that view? a thin gap between your humping bodies, skin clumping and swelling, her perky boobs jiggling with the movements produced, peak of her russet pubes browsing over the harness base– slap! a red sting of fury nips you in the buttcheek, literally. ellie can't get enough of your rump, popping off your breast a moment and slanting her body aside to catch a glimpse of it, freak, indulging another slap. anyways, holding your hips captive to where she needs them, she pipes all the delectable cream she can out of you, grazing that bumpy vein shaft along your ribbed walls with a passion to spite 'unpassions', she coagulates a burning knot inside you, haste without chaste. girl will commit ungodly things to prove how helpless to climax you are on her thickset dick, popping her mouth off your tit to provoke in words of hypocrisy, "feels so good, huh? going dumb on my cock? yeahh? haha, god, can't even see your eyes, fuck." i claim hypocrisy, because we all know damn well with our combined minds that this girl gets dumb on your pussy, folding up her lips to contain the slobber threatening to make her look pussydrunk.

and she is most definetely pussydrunk, moreso in this position, climbing up to a high real fast. chromatically, her moan rises, "uhhhhhhh, yeahahhaaa.. ohh fuck."

how she looks cumming in this position? electrifying. her fawn freckled cheeks overcast in a flush of coral pink, gaping her lips wide and scrunching skin in all the right areas. the chafing pleasure tweaking her clit makes for a good fucking orgasm. her lids embracing the reflex of scantly shutting and gazing up at you, the green in her eyes somehow more vibrant and her pupils blown to a new moon. she just whines a grunty, "hahhh– mhhh, mhhh, yeessss." in a warble while twitching her last final blows against your beaten cervix, cockhead mashing that gummy donut. scarred as your shoulderblades take the toll ten clawing nails can bestow, her fingers whiten away the pigment with the strength issued into your flesh. her own pussy convulses and gathers up a bit of milky cum to streamline in strings along her perineum, dripping like dew onto the bed. you're ways from comparable, though, spraying your clear orgasm all over her. she'll praise you through her tale of moans, groaning, "uhhh yeah, get that cock all filthy– filthy, filthy, filthhh– fuuckkkk.." strands of her hair stick in an untidy manner beyond her hairline, shadowing that gloss of sweat narrowly. then, she dwindles down to a smile, a smile to bury. burying kisses in your sternum, she peppers up and up with a sudden awash of elation walking hand–in–hand with exhaustion. shaky nubs of her fingertips press and drag sweaty over the blushed marks given in her high, almost writing an apology to the poor scratches. looser skin of your back bulges and ribs between her waxy digits, cooling with a pasty ache. the weeping of pores after sex was no joke, no lie. and ellie intended to lick every puny dollop of it from your body. "l'mme clean you up.." she mumbles droney as a meadow bee barming your ears with a measly melody, voice muted in your neck. you reply, fumbly out of breath, "oh, a bath? i could really use a–" the chambré stamp of her tongue unfurls blunt to your neck, nudging up a spit trail along the skin. by clean you up, she just means lick you like a dog. i personally live for ellie doing that. you bumble, "ellie?" and she just garbles back, lips obviously occupied, "let me, mhh, clean you up.." and slipping a gritty chuckle in the depths of her throat, shrugging her shoulders a bit.

don't even get me started on ellie licking you up and down after sex.

[getodrools]

𐙚 COMPARABLE FANTASIES: TOJI FUSHIGURO!

IN WHICH, toji proves even with new, cold attachments, he could still make you feel good regardless...

I 𝓲. I MDNI ୨୧ f! reader. slight jjk spoilers. lazy dovey morning turned messy feral muah mess. fingering. breeding. cock warming. squirting. creampies. | WC –> 0.8k+ est ! !

TOJI'S TONGUE PLAYS AT the shell of your ear, slipping in to whisper, "you feel… full." nuzzling down, you ache into his touch.

feening at cold metal dipping between bodies, toji trails along your tummy to mush at the small bump of devotion pooled stickily in your womb. his scar curls with his lips – smirking at the ghastly amount as he keeps his softening cock deeply buried in your walls.

groaning and twisting at the warm fill and shivering and cooing at the foreign object drifting at your skin. it was crushing to see the man you love once kiss death and now filled in with a new century of technology...

though, how he handled it. it was, manly... tantalizingly fun too.

filthy.

cold — freezing more of... the sudden touch of his new arm snipped at bare skin, feeling him slip between shaken legs was like glaciers moving through water… soon, catching at the puckered hood of your clit, he winds steady circles.

“cold? heh...” his words trail off into a husky groan, almost mocking at your worn shivers.

spent and warmly settled to spooning, his cock rests a slow rhythm before popping out. unplugged… a warm, white mess follows, dripping a soiled puddle into silk sheets.

toji knew it made you squirm — knowing the truth. it was new and something to get used to.

no different, he spreads slippery folds wide, forcing them to hug, now, two silvery fingers and cling tight as he pummeled cum back where he deems belongs. toji was quick and busy at stuffing spongy walls to the hilt, all while you were marveling in the taunt texture the entire way through, feeling scraps digging at you with fierce intent.

eyes fluttering back, toji pecks along your jaw,

"see, 's still makes you feel good.." lewdly locking lips, you squeeze at his forearm; the mass once strong muscle, scarred and expanse, now smooth, dull - and uncanny... but the sensible warmness growing to your tone left an ache.

incredulously prodding away, he digs eager fingers into your cum-swollen cunt – and one moment they weren't, the next, they were pressing against your sensitive bundle of nerves, running circles. your thoughts too, running mindlessly, hearing the squelching batter of juices and tainted shame.

"you're making me hard again, baby... maken' those pretty moans in my ear." you curl into his chest, sobbing out moans as his fingers pressed down and worked into your slit. hard and smooth, he dug them into the pliant, slick heat of your pussy, squishing at walls and kneading them around working digits.

you mewl, "oh!–" crudely before whimpering into submission. toji pops the metal tools out, yet kept a steady rhythm at your puffy hood, and probed his bulbous cockhead – hitting into you in no time at all. full chastity, his cock swole and throbbing again. toji sets a rhythm. strong and paced, and keeping firm at your clit; rolling and pinching when warm walls squeeze at his base.

toji holds you close as you sink into fervent putty; his arms so strong, one just as the other, keeping you warm and close... your stomach is coiling and your jaw hangs, "my pretty girl likes being stuffed? you enjoy looking like a mess? huh?" his free hand tucks under your neck, bullying eye contact from you.

you shakily nod.

"nothing can stop me from making you feel good baby?" he would be foaming at the mouth if possible; gasping at the deep-set of jungle eyes hooded, almost hunting for you through lids,

"don't ever doubt me, sweetheart..." panting with pearls of sweat mixing in, as both of you in sync like beasts – tongues even lapping sloppily at each other.

his life seemed to hold that fine line. It terrified you, every day because it could be any day... only the potency of resilience proved odds... and oddly, it was attractive how much he held that.

he fucked you good and well, always horny and hungry. never knowing if it could be the last to make you scream over his name ‘til you couldn't… the day he faced eternal gloaming and luckily found an escape through it, he stuffed you long and hard – ‘til you were packed like a snow cone...

toji buried himself deep while his swollen crown pushed hard against the breaking walls you lose control of – shivering in a pulsing high. licking up your throat, a wet and sloppy tongue cursing,

"can you even handle another?" he was mocking you and at your weakness, watching through droopy eyes how you shook into a mess at such little, yet so much...

watching how he fucks you into a mess and keeping metallic fingers pinched at your clit, you arched a perfect bow into the sheets; cumming a fountain and creaming a translucent ring at his base, his balls rise in a manner you adored in response. In a battering of his hips, solid nth-inch cock meat swelled with oozing cum. heavy holders, no less than before, and just as messy, empties every last drop into you.

…

barely room, ropes of hot seed decorate the soft mounds of your ass. almost bursting; his cock pops out still jutting in cloud nine as your womb was drowning in delight and with cum still struggling to find space... your chest heaves and his follows.

"ah-... y/n..." catching a rare breath, the same raunchy arm puckers up to your face and drags your chin back to his. showing no difference – just clanking bits and cold metal, he pulls and breathes at your bottom, quivering lip,

"i'll always, take care of you."

<– BACK: PINNED ౨ৎ NEXT: MORE TOJI –>

[141wh0re]

Five Senses

Challenge submission: 83. Facesitting.

Pairing: Captain John Price x Civilian!Reader

Warnings: MDNI (18+) - established relationship, swearing, fellatio, face-sitting, cunnilingus, spanking, daddy!price, breeding kink, mentions of breeding.

Summary: silly girl- thinking you can half-ass one of your daddy's requests.

John had always prided himself on being a patient and understanding man.

And he was- except for when his precious girlfriend was knelt before him, choking on his thick cock.

Drool ran down your chin, soaking the soft skin of your breasts, those precious tears rolling down your flushed cheeks while big doe eyes dilated in lust.

God.. how incredible the round globes of your ass looked while perched in the air, sopping wet cunt leaking your arousal along your inner thighs and onto the sheets.

You were a sight for John.

"Fuckin' hell, dove." he cursed, his head tossing back into the pillows of your shared bed, your tongue sliding, gliding over the soft skin of his shaft.

His hips bucked involuntarily when you forced him to the back of your throat, eliciting a rumbly groan from deep within his chest. The lewd sound of you gagging on his thick length mixed with his grunts and low groans.

John's abdomen coiled tight, beads of sweat lined his hairline while he fought valiantly to stave off his building release. He was determined to feast before his release, though. He needed to taste you. To feel your velvety walls clamp on his tongue while he devoured you from the inside out. To hear those beautiful, needy sounds you emit with every stroke of his tongue. To smell the sweet scent of your skin and nectar. To see your body writhe over his face.

John wanted every one of his senses to be wholly consumed by you.

"Doll.." he grunted in his gruff voice, heavily laced with arousal, "better back off."

You pulled off his length, obediently heeding his warning. But he audibly groaned at the sight of you.

Your hair was tousled from his fingers running through it and gripping it, your soft lips were puffy and swollen from your tenacious sucking, and white strings of coagulated spit still bridged your mouth to his aching cock.

He could've nearly come undone then and there.

"Somethin' wrong, sir?" you pouted up at him, feigning innocence, tracing loving circles on the top of his thighs.

John let out a teasing tsk, "Y'know the rules, doll."

"The only place that gets my cum... is that pretty little womb of yours,"

His words went straight to your core and another flood of arousal threatened to spill from your sex.

"But before that can happen.." he trailed off, gazing at you hungrily, "I need a taste of that pretty lil cunt." his lips split into a devilish grin, eyes dark with desire for you.

John's arm wrapped around your waist, guiding you up the bed to kneel over his face.

"Sit on my face, doll. Been cravin' it," he rumbled.

You set your knees on either side of his shoulders, calves tucked comfortably under his frame, and tentatively hover your slit over his lips.

Large hands moved to cup the soft globes of your ass, calloused fingertips gripped and kneaded the soft flesh, earning pleased groans from his throat.

John's hot breaths fanned over your slicked slit, his expert tongue prodded at your folds, and circled at the small bundle of nerves.

Soft, salicious moans fell from your lips and spilled into the confines of the bedroom.

"Said sit not hover." John growled and gave a sharp slap to your ass cheek which effectively reddened the smooth skin and pulled a sharp gasp from you.

John's arms curled around your thighs, and harshly pulled your hips down until your weight rested on his face.

"Daddy's fuckin' starvin'." he growled. Your pussy fluttered in response to his deep, rumbly tenor, and the way the bass of his voice reverberated against your swollen cunt.

Without any hesitation, John pressed his mouth firmly on your pussy. His nose buried deep in you as it nudged your clit, and his skilled tongue circled your entrance before gently prodding it.

And that's where his patience wore out.

As much as he wanted to enjoy his meal, he needed to devour you.

Your hands tightly clutched the headboard while his strong hands guided your hips on his tongue. Your mewls of pleasure grew to a crescendo the longer he toyed between your clit and your tight little hole.

"F-fuck, daddy! Gonna cum," you whined, feeling the tight coil in your abdomen reach its boiling point.

Your face and chest warmed from the ever-growing inferno setting your skin ablaze. Your tight hole fluttered around his tongue, back arched, and head tilted back in pleasure. John held you tight to his mouth, helping you grind yourself on his tongue and finally reach your peak.

You came with a loud cry of his name, as well as his honorific, Daddy.

John groaned in approval as your release flooded his lips, tongue, and beard. He harshly slapped your ass, for the simple fact of hearing his palm connect with your plump globes.

"Good girl. Such a good doll f'me." He murmured against your sopping slit.

"Now Daddy hasta breed that tight little cunt." he growled, biting down on the sensitive skin on the inside of your thighs, earning another adorable whimper.

@glitterypirateduck

[nirmaltexim]

Cut to Length Line

Title: Understanding the Cut to Length Line: Streamlining Material Processing

Introduction:

    Introduce the concept of a Cut to Length Line and its significance in the manufacturing and metal processing industries.     Highlight the benefits of using Cut to Length Lines for efficient and precise material cutting.

    What is a Cut to Length Line?

    Define a Cut to Length Line and provide an overview of its components and functionalities.     Explain how it differs from other metal processing equipment, such as slitting lines or shearing machines.

    Key Components and Functions of a Cut to Length Line:

    Decoiler: Describe the purpose and operation of the decoiler, which unwinds and feeds the coil into the line.     Straightener: Explain the role of the straightener in removing coil-set and ensuring flat material for accurate cutting.     Leveler: Discuss the function of the leveler in flattening and removing any residual stresses in the material.     Shear: Highlight the cutting mechanism of the shear and its ability to make precise cuts at programmed lengths.     Stacker: Describe the stacking system that neatly collects and organizes the cut-to-length sheets or plates.

    Material Types and Applications:

    Explore the different types of materials that can be processed using a Cut to Length Line, such as steel, aluminum, and stainless steel.     Discuss the wide range of applications for cut-to-length sheets, including automotive, construction, and appliance manufacturing.

    Advantages of Cut to Length Lines:

    Discuss the benefits of using Cut to Length Lines, such as increased efficiency, reduced waste, and improved accuracy.     Highlight how these lines can optimize production by eliminating the need for manual cutting and trimming processes.

    Factors to Consider When Choosing a Cut to Length Line:

    Discuss key factors to consider when selecting a Cut to Length Line, such as material thickness and width capacity, line speed, and automation features.     Mention additional considerations like space requirements, maintenance, and operator training.

    Maintenance and Safety:

    Provide guidelines for regular maintenance and upkeep of a Cut to Length Line to ensure its smooth operation and longevity.     Emphasize the importance of safety protocols and training for operators working with the equipment.

Conclusion:

    Summarize the key points discussed throughout the blog post, emphasizing the advantages and applications of Cut to Length Lines.     Highlight how these lines streamline material processing and contribute to increased productivity and quality in manufacturing operations.

Remember to include relevant visuals, such as images or videos, to enhance the clarity and engagement of your blog post.

[writing-wh0re]

“You humans are so needy, you’re simply a cock hungry whore, aren’t you?”

♥ pairing: sukuna x fem!reader

♥ summary: “Based on this ask - True form Sukuna making your cry, beg and cum on his fingers"

♥ warnings: smuty 18+ blurb, degradation, gagging, fingering, pussy slapping, slapping, small praise, choking, marking, female receiving oral, use of petnames: brat, pet.

♥ wc: 814 not proof read

♥ masterlist

A/N: Hey, I know its been a while. Life is pretty awesome at the moment but its been a tough road to get to this point. I have closed my requests and I wont have a posting schedule but when I find time I will write small blurbs either from requests or from my own catalog of ideas. But thank you for still reading what I write. You're all so loved!

“Your whimpers are pathetic brat” Sukuna spat, his grip on your legs tightening as his other hands roam your body, one hand groping your tit squeezing the flesh and the other trailing his fingers up and down your glistening pussy. 

You pout, lifting your hips up to gain more of his touch. Sukuna chuckles, slapping your pussy as his other hand leaves your boob and grips your chin. Sukuna’s thumb brushes your bottom lip, rolling it between his index and thumb before slapping your cheek. 

“You humans are so needy, you’re simply a cock hungry whore, aren’t you?” 

You softly nod your head, small tears lining your eyes from the sting of his slap. 

Sukuna tuts as his fingers start to circle your clit. His middle fingers sliding against your tongue. You suck on his digits, swirling your tongue between his fingers, hollowing your cheeks around him. Your moan hums against him causing his pace to pick up on your clit. 

“You’re so obedient.” 

You nod, moaning loudly around his fingers as he pushes them deeper in your mouth, causing your eyes to water as a small gag fills the air. 

Sukuna stops rubbing your clit, dragging his middle finger up and down your slit, pinching your clit between his index and middle digit. He smirks as your legs twitch in his grasp at the pinch, soothing your swollen bud with a light rub before pinching again. 

“Please kuna.” Your words are muffled, barely audible due to his fingers being pressed against your tongue, but he understands your pleas, your begs, he always knows what your body craves from him. 

Sukuna smirks, slowly shoving his two fingers inside of your tight weeping hole. His deep moan fills the air amidst your muffled gasp. The squelch of your wetness floats around you both, his eyes locking with yours, his grip tightening around your legs, your lips sucking against his fingers. 

“Your body is mine pet.” 

His fingers pull from your mouth, securing around your throat allowing for your moans to fill the air uninterrupted. Sukuna scissors his fingers apart deep inside of you, stretching your walls as his thumb circles your clit. He picks up his pace, pulling his fingers from within you and shoving them straight back in curling them upwards against your spongy walls. His thumb continues to rub fast circles on your clit, pressing against the bud when he pulls his fingers from you. 

“Oh, so good.” Your words vibrate around his grip on your throat. His fingers thrusting deeper inside of you, curling against your g-spot. Your legs shake a little, causing him to smirk, a chuckle rumbling through his chest. 

Your walls tighten around his fingers, your mouth falling open causing him to slip his fingers back inside. Drool starts to form around his knuckles, dripping down the sides of your open mouth. 

“Please, please, please.” Your begs come out in muffled slurs, your eyes rolling back as the coil inside of you snaps, your body falling hot and your chest rapidly rising and falling. Sukuna pushes your legs into the bed more, his grip bruising against your skin, the imprint of his fingers will be visible for days. His fingers never let up, continuing to pull from your velvety walls, his thumb circling your clit as shocks spark through your legs. 

“Too, uh, too much.” 

Sukuna tuts, shaking his head and looking down at his fingers disappearing into your core, strings of wetness and cum covering his fingers. 

“You’ve got more for me brat, show me.” 

You shake your head, hot tears welling in your eyes as they begin to spill down your flushed cheeks. Your body temp picks up, your skin becoming clammy as his fingers continue to drag out of you, a slower pace than before but one that still has your toes curling and your back arching. 

“There it is, good girl.” 

Your stomach flutters with his praise, a rarity but one that you love. Your pussy tightens around him, you scream at the feeling of his mouth on your clit, sucking the overstimulated bundle of nerves. You look down at him between your legs, your eyes rolling back and your legs threatening to close around him, if it wasn’t for his deathly grip securing them. Your hips jerk, grinding against his tongue and falling into rhythm with his fingers. Your whole body shakes as the second orgasm comes crashing over you. Your fingers digging into his forearms, his fingers slipping from your mouth and wrapping around your neck as your head falls back. 

Sukuna pulls his fingers from you, sucking them clean and watching over your body as you tremble. Whimpers and tears fall from your body. 

“And what do you say to your king, pet?” 

“Thank you, my king.” you babbel, repeating your gratefulness to him as your body continues to shock and twitch.

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