#the hand tremble in the first one......yeah

[madaqueue]

TEAR MY FLESH, HOLD MY HAND, FEEL MY WARMTH

the weight that lies in a pinky promise

pairing: suguru geto x gn!reader

themes/content: curse/canon au. fluff, angst. mentions of fights/difficult childhood. (wk: 3.2k)

a/n: this was originally gonna be for flufftober but it got a lil angsty teehee so here we are :) also the mouse on my computer stopped working so i did all this formatting on my phone bc i'm that dedicated to serving you guys this fic

Suguru was a soft child. Chubby hands, round cheeks, gentle steps.

He was sweet in all the ways a child ought to be, at least according to your parents - sweet in all the ways you weren’t.

You, on the other hand, were loud, jarring, unreserved. “A handful,” you were always described as by those who attempted to care for you. Perhaps that’s why they allowed you such a great extent of freedom, tugging against the length of a leash they tried to place around you, but they’d need stronger chains to tie you down.

And yet, you and Suguru found your similarities - you were both unencumbered by expectations. I am who I am. In spite of everyone, in spite of the ways they tried to dig their tight hands around you and force you into something you weren’t. You are who you are.

The first time you met him, all you saw were tiny feet kicking the air, unable to reach the ground from where he perched upon the park bench. He was the only one not screaming, something you appreciated, something novel. Your life had held such chaos, constant arguments, slamming doors. The peace that wrapped around his small frame seemed to exude a comfort you craved, even if it couldn’t be articulated by your six-year-old mind, you were drawn to it. To him.

“Hi,” you chirped, lifting yourself next to him.

“Hi.”

When you grinned widely at him, he returned a thin-lipped smile, as though he had been trained by wild dogs who took eagerness as a threat, who wouldn’t dare snarl unless as a warning.

(He noticed your absence of fear immediately - how could you approach him so easily? Had you not been taught to be wary?)

(You had been taught. “Avoid strangers, they’ll hurt you.” But you would never choose the harm of the monsters you knew. Better to take your chances in the wild.)

Averting your gaze, your dirtied fingernails began absentmindedly picking at the green paint coating the wood beneath your legs. Your eyes landed on his knees, scuffed and bloody.

“Did that hurt?”

Without looking at you, he shakes his head. “No, I’m just clumsy. I fell off my bike.”

“That’s okay,” you hum, “I get bruises all the time. You must be pretty tough if it didn’t hurt.”

And this time, he giggles, crooked teeth poking through. “Anyone can get hurt, it doesn’t make me tough.”

Leaves rustle overhead as you let out a thoughtful sigh, allowing the sounds of the breeze to fill the silence. It’s comfortable, you realize, no tension hanging in the air like there always seems to be at home, no threat looming around the other side of the kitchen counter.

You tug with all the strength your muscles can muster at a large strip of paint. With a final pull, your palm catches along the fraying wood, splinters digging under your flesh as you let out a choked cry.

Immediately, the boy’s small hands wrap around your wrist, pulling it to his face. Worried eyes inspect the wound. “Are you okay?” he asks without looking up.

A small whimper falls from your throat, lower lip trembling as you hold back tears. “Y-yeah,” your voice wobbles.

You’re lying. He knows you’re lying - you aren’t particularly hard to read, he grows to learn, somehow always wearing your heart on your sleeve. It’s a trait he admires (perhaps because he’s never quite able to place his there so visibly).

When he frowns, you almost giggle at the sight - no child should frown like that. It’s endearing, the way his eyebrows furrow, mouth tugged downward.

“Can I make it better?”

It takes very little to make you trust him, but you believe he wouldn’t hurt you. Just as animals seem able to sense intent, an implicit knowledge that the human freeing them from a cage won’t inflict additional pain, you know that his stubby fingers won’t dig at your flesh and make you bleed.

So, you nod.

Determined eyes turn from your visibly pained face to your aching palm. Slowly, he removes the shards of wood from your skin. When you wince, he pauses immediately, waiting for your shoulders to relax before he continues. By the time he’s finished, your bottom lip is red from biting into it but the pain isn’t even noticeable, not when every nerve in your body seems focused on the warmth coming from his fingertips still lingering on your wrist.

“There,” he breathes through the softest smile, “all done.”

“Thanks,” and you can’t help but grin back.

“And see!” He’s beaming now. “You were very tough!”

Your laugh is brighter than the sun, more calming than the birds chirping overhead, a sound he can’t help but mirror. His desire to cheer you up, to comfort you through it all, makes your cheeks warm.

“I’m Suguru, by the way.”

He opens up easily to you, an honor you don’t quite understand yet. When you introduce yourself, he repeats your name back slowly, the vowels sweet like the flowers blooming nearby. It sounds good in his voice.

A whistle cuts through the humidity, immediately drawing Suguru’s attention.

“I gotta go,” his face draws into that adorable pout again.

“Oh.” Dropping your attention, it falls to your freshly healed hands resting in your lap. “Can you do me a favor?”

Expectant eyes meet yours.

“Promise me I’ll see you again?”

This time, he smiles so wide his cheeks push up into his eyes, crinkling at the corners. Holding out a hand, he gently grasps yours as he intertwines your fingers.

“Pinky promise,” he grins, linking them together with a shake.

Through a giggle, you mimic, “pinky promise.”

He shuffles off the bench, clumsy feet landing on the ground before he hobbles off to the waiting arms of a parent who seems to love him. Your heart aches for a moment before it stills - you’re happy he has someone to take care of him, to pull the splinters from his hands and clean off the scrapes on his knees.

It’s a miracle when you both get placed at Jujutsu Tech. It takes very little for you to abandon the place you called home, having jumped at the first chance to leave your childhood behind, but having Suguru there makes it even easier when you get approached by a strange man with dark hair and glasses who touts himself as the principal of some elusive school a few hours away. They’ll pay for your housing, your food, anything you need to survive for the next four years so long as you agree to train and work for them. It was an easy yes - you would have done more for less.

And of course, there was your so-called “power.” The two of you had danced around the subject for years, hesitantly testing each other’s experiences to not unload worry onto the other. That was the thing about Suguru - he was always looking out for you, and you, him. He never needed to ask if you were thirsty, he’d just bring you tea; you never had to ask if he was lonely, you’d just find him sitting alone on the same park bench.

It was Suguru who finally broke on his thirteenth birthday while the two of you made your way through town, snowflakes hanging in the air.

“Do you ever…see things?” he asked, shoving his hands deeper into the pockets of his jacket in a futile search for warmth.

From the corner of your vision, you caught the faintest glimmer of fear in his eyes. And you understood immediately.

“Yes.”

His shoulders visibly relaxed, hot breath puffing into the air. “Thank god,” he murmured.

Again, it wasn’t a surprise, per se - the two of you had shared everything. It only seemed natural that you would share this ability to see curses, the monsters hiding in the shadows.

“Do they ever…scare you?” Your voice felt small as you asked - you hadn’t yet reached relief, or at the very least, neutrality towards these things.

And he sees it in you, too - the dread he felt when he first saw them, the pang of terror that shoots up his spine when he catches one moving in the dark. He’s grown more accustomed to their presence, but there’s still that thread of fear lingering, choking him when he gets tangled in it.

“Yes.”

Cold fingers lace through yours, squeezing your hand reassuringly.

“But I’ll always keep you safe,” he smiles that sweet, soft smile, “pinky promise.”

The training wasn’t easy. You hadn’t expected it to be, obviously, but fuck was it hard.

Suguru excelled initially, as he did with everything. The others in your small class also show great potential, Satoru in particular, but Shoko’s abilities develop in her own way, too.

It’s nice to finally feel like you have a place where you belong, to have people to return to, people who care about you, who love you. It’s nice to be here, even if it pushes you to your limits everyday, because you know you’ll always have someone to come home to - to know you’ll always have Suguru to come home to.

It hits you on a sunny day in October when you’re watching him spar with Satoru. Fists fly, a mix of black and white flashing across the grass. When Gojo lands a particularly well-timed punch, Suguru’s body lands with a thud in the dirt.

You’re on your feet in less than a second, shoving Satoru out of the way as you stand over the dazed boy on the ground. He looks beautiful like this, you think - his hair splayed out around him, blood trickling from his nose, lips tugged into an awestruck smirk - before you shake the thought aside.

“Are you okay?”

Panicked hands run over his torso, checking for injuries before they land on his face. Cupping his jaw, he can’t help but breathe a laugh at the worry painted across your features. His palms come to rest along your wrists, dark eyes meeting yours.

“I’m okay,” he sighs. Now that you’re here. “I’m tough, remember?”

Every muscle in your body releases tension just at hearing his voice, his calming aura once again blanketing you, bringing you under the warmth of his peace.

With a playful punch to his shoulder, he feigns a dramatic wince. “Just don’t get hurt again, okay?”

He knows it’s impossible - it’s the nature of the job, of the responsibilities he holds. He will be hit and bruised and battered and brought to the brink of death again and again, but right now, that’s not what you need to hear. Because you know it’s impossible too; and you also know Suguru is strong.

“I pinky promise,” he halfheartedly grins. He promises to at least try. For you.

Wrapping your finger around his, you let the heat of your bodies fill the air, vibrating in tune with the cicadas lining the trees. His hand is soft in yours. It feels like coming home - the familiar walk up the steps, the paint on the front door cracking from where palms had rubbed against it time and time again as the handle turned. The wooden floors are worn in with the path you take through each other’s lives, from the kitchen to the living room to the windows, gazing over the backyard.

Suguru had a swingset, you remember. You figured out how to use it the first time you ever sat on the sun-worn rubber, going higher and higher and higher until the toes of your shoes scraped the sky. But Suguru always struggled - he couldn’t quite move his body in the right way to grant him flight. He would get frustrated with it rather easily, until your small hands rested against his back. With a firm push, you set him free into the air, his feet kicking perfectly with all the momentum a child’s body could hold.

Maybe gravity was discovered by children on the playground. There had to be a reason they couldn’t swing forever; there had to be a reason they couldn’t reach the sun.

The problem is, though, that a star’s heat dissipates with distance. It can’t always warm you, not when your feet land back on the ground.

Over the next year, Satoru began going on more missions alone, and Shoko stayed behind to hone her healing, leaving you and Suguru in the purgatory between power and nothingness. And most days, you feel closer to nothing.

It’s eating at him, you realize. The missions, the responsibility, the whole fucking thing is taking bites out of his soul with sharpened teeth and leaving nothing behind but a bloodied mess of torn expectations. It makes him smaller and smaller, pulling pieces of him until there’s nothing left.

You can see it in the way his clothes hang loose on his body. His shoulders slump forward, the shadows beneath his eyes growing darker each night he spends with his gaze locked on the ceiling.

The foundation of his soul is crumbling, the front door barricaded closed. The windows are boarded up. You can’t see your childhood anymore. All the grass in the front yard is dead.

You miss when the sun’s rays shone through him.

You miss when he was warm.

Finding him resting on one of the old benches in the school’s courtyard, it creaks beneath your weight as you sit, the only sound breaking the stagnant silence of the summer air. That’s another thing you’ve noticed - sometimes, Suguru is so quiet you aren’t even sure he exists. If you weren’t here watching his chest rise and fall, could you even prove he was breathing?

He says nothing when you rest your head on his shoulder, not that he needs to, of course. He hasn’t said much lately, mostly responding to everyone else’s overflowing conversations with empty smiles and sad eyes.

You aren’t sure how much longer you can take it.

“Suguru?”

His body doesn’t even shift in response to hearing his name, but you feel his eyes on you even though you can’t see them, your gaze instead focused on your hands resting in his lap. Picking at the skin along your nails, you continue.

“Are you okay?”

He’s grateful you can’t hear the way his heartbeat stutters (because then you’d already have the answer to your question).

“Mhm,” he hums, his lips never parting. You miss the way they used to curl into that childlike grin, it’s been so long since you’ve seen it.

You know he’s lying, but unfortunately, you want to believe him. You want to believe him so badly it feels like you’re trapped underground, buried under your love for him, banging on the floorboards overhead, but there’s no one around to hear. There’s dirt in your lungs and you can’t breathe. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts.

Silently, you hold your hand in front of him, pinky raised in a question.

Would you promise?

On instinct, his own hand lifts from his side. It hovers just inches from yours, but he hesitates. The gap between them grows farther with each second they don’t intertwine, stars pushing one another apart, unable to collide. The steadiness in him wavers for a moment as you watch his fingers shake.

He can’t.

When he collapses into you, everything falls apart. Arms wrap around your frame, hands grabbing fistfuls of your uniform. He clings to you like a lifeline, the only thing keeping him from drowning. Because as a child, no one ever taught him how to swim - maybe they didn’t see the point in learning such a useless skill, or maybe they thought they were protecting him. But now, he’s been thrown into relentless waves of grief and with each breath more briney water fills his chest and he’s gasping and scared and he doesn’t know what to do except hold you. The tears falling from his eyes taste like the sea and they burn his throat, but at least for a moment his legs can stop kicking. For a moment, he has someone who can keep him afloat.

Your palms rub slow circles into his back as he cries. The sound is sharp and painful, carving into the still-beating flesh of your heart, but at least it exists. At least he’s here. At least he’s alive.

Placing your lips to the top of his head, you let them rest there as his body shakes.

“It’ll be okay, I’ve got you,” you whisper into his skin, surrounded by small strands of hair pulled loose and warm from the sun. “I promise.”

As things tend to do, they eventually get easier.

You and Suguru talk to the higher ups about changing his schedule, only going on missions with at least one other sorcerer so he’s not doing all the work by himself. They bargain and ultimately even agree to grant him dedicated days off to rest. And finally, you feel as though you’ve been granted your miracle, the scales of fate begrudgingly tipping in your favor.

(If all your pain meant that Suguru’s would be lessened for even a moment you would do it over again a million times. If all your suffering meant that Suguru wouldn’t have to endure it for a second longer, you would suffer for eternity.)

Even as fall returns and the sun shines through the sky less and less, things feel brighter. The two of you find yourselves in the school’s cafeteria making tea every night, and he learns he sleeps better with you in his arms.

When the four of you gather around a picnic table outside to recap your recent assignments, you tell some stupid joke, one that makes Satoru groan and Shoko roll her eyes through a smirk, and you hear it: Suguru laughs. And for a moment, the world stops spinning.

You all exchange glances before turning to face him, his cheeks pushed up and pink, eyes closed in bliss. You can’t contain yourselves as you join him, fits of giggles lilting through the crisp air.

That night, he welcomes you into bed with open arms waiting beneath the covers. His lips are curved into a grin as he places a gentle kiss to your forehead, a newer part of your routine, one that makes your entire body vibrate.

Snuggling against him, the warmth of his chest radiates into your skin, each beat of his heart a welcome melody.

“Hey Suguru?” you murmur.

His voice is laced with sleep as he answers into the darkness, “Yeah?”

“You’re really strong, y’know that?”

Letting out an airy chuckle, he rolls his eyes. “I’m nothing compared to Satoru-”

“You know that’s not what I mean.”

You can hear the air entering his lungs with each breath. He takes in three before he responds. “I know.”

Long fingers trace circles into the bare skin of your arm.

“Suguru?”

You know what you have to tell him - you’ve been holding it for years, keeping it close to you, carrying its weight through each day until you barely notice it anymore. Maybe it’s the change of the seasons, a different density to the air, but suddenly it has begun to feel heavy in your hands.

“Yeah?”

His hands make their way up your neck until they rest along your cheek, guiding your gaze to him through the dark.

Three breaths in, three breaths out.

“I love you.”

You can’t see him smile, but you feel it. The warmth of his palm leaves your face for a moment until you feel it again along your hand. He intertwines his pinky with yours. “I love you, too.”

[heauxvibez]

Make A Movie

Warning: Smut (+18)

Baby, we don't need no script (Script) for this (For this) I'ma throw a couple thousand, baby, strip (Strip) for this (For this) Let me pull my camera out and make a (Movie, yeah) Starrin' (You and me, yeah)

Roman’s grip tightened on your face, his fingers pressing firmly into your cheek as he forced your gaze into the camera’s unblinking eye. He stood tall behind you, his bare chest brushing against your bare back, while you were positioned in front of the dresser. His black, wavy locs dangled over your shoulder, the ends lightly tickling your skin, adding an unexpected layer of pleasure. The soft, coconutty scent of shea moisture clung to his hair, filling your nostrils with a familiar, comforting fragrance that you loved because you also tended to use the same hair product.

You inhaled deeply, savoring it. His face was also nestled deep in your thick, curly 4b/4c fro, smelling that familiar scent of coconut. The soft coils brushed against his cheek as he moved, trying to maneuver around your hair. But even as he shifted, his lips brushing your ear, you could feel the smile tugging at his mouth. He loved the feel of your curls—how they surrounded him, a constant reminder of one of the many reasons he fell in love with you in the first place. The texture, the beauty, the wildness of them—it was all part of you, and it drove him wild.

Normally, in moments like this, your eyes would wander to your reflection, looking for his eyes in the mirror, enjoying the way he watched you. But tonight that wasn't the case—tonight, you were staring straight into the lens of a camera he’d proudly bought over the weekend.

He had gone on and on, boasting about the crystal-clear resolution, the sharpness of the image, and the way it captured even the smallest detail. You assumed he had purchased it for family gatherings, for special occasions, to create lasting memories. But now, it was clear—the memories he wanted to create weren’t the ones shared at celebrations. No, he wanted to capture every nuance of this moment. The deep richness of your melanin skin, glowing under the soft light. The way your eyes glistened as you silently begged for more, the camera drinking in every flicker of desperation. He wanted it all—the sharp clarity of your moans, how the sound of your voice would tremble and rise, your gasps and breaths recorded in perfect unison. The sighs, the whimpers, every surrendering sound was meant to be preserved, etched into the flawless quality of this new toy he was so proud of.

Your hands pressed flat against the cool surface of the black wooden dresser, fingers splayed wide as you struggled to stay still. The hand holding your cheek worked hard to keep you focused on the camera while the other—free from its task of forcing you to submit—was busy teasing your nipple, rolling it between his fingers with a touch that made your pussy throb with a crazy ache.

He knew exactly what he was doing. Roman was a craftsman who had learned all the ways to unravel you. He was cold and calculated, you could feel it with every brush of his fingers. He had watched the way you responded—the slight arch of your back, the soft gasps that escaped your lips when he touched the right spot. He could damn near bring you to insanity, making you drip with need, but he always kept you right there, hovering on the edge of sweet release.

The way his fingers teased your bud made your breath get lost in your throat, and your body trembled from all the emotions that you felt. He grinned as he felt your reaction, knowing that with every flick and tug, your body was begging him for more.

"You love this, don’t you? Love being right here, just about to break."

And it was true. You were soaked, every nerve tingled, with the feeling of being so close yet so far from release. But you knew he loved it too. Teasing you until your body was as wet as the ocean, leaving you desperate and shaking. It wasn’t just about the physical pleasure for him though. As we all know, he thrived on controlling you, on watching you fall apart piece by piece under his touch.

But he also understood your love for submitting to him. He tended to you with all his might, fulfilling your wants and needs in ways that left you feeling cherished. Physically, mentally, emotionally, even financially—he cared for you in all the ways that mattered, even though you didn’t need him to. You carried your own weight, having a successful career, independent and more than capable. But something was irresistible about knowing you didn’t have to do it all alone. Just knowing that he was there, ready to support you without question, made you want to give yourself to him completely.

It wasn’t just his actions; it was the way he did it. The way he made you feel safe and seen, while still allowing you the freedom to be strong. That kind of devotion—selfless, yet confident in his role—was a complete turn-on. Pussy completely wet without question. It made you look forward to the moment when you could submit entirely, offering him everything he could ever ask for, knowing that he would take care of you in return.

The thought of it made you sigh deeply, in the best way of course—the idea of giving him all of you, letting him guide you, because you knew in your heart that you were safe in his hands. It was what made intimate moments special. He knew how much you craved his words, how much you needed to be talked through it, pushed toward the edge while he whispered in your ear. You wanted to be teased, denied, and kept in that delicious state of frustration, only to have him edge you over and over again. And when you could hardly take it any longer, when your body was shaking, he would finish you completely, making you surrender every single piece of yourself to him.

"Tell the camera what you want," he growled dangerously, his hand tightening around your nipple, the sensation somehow simultaneously sharp and sweet. While his other hand slid from your jaw to your throat, his fingers wrapping around you with just enough pressure to make you gasp. You could barely think, let alone speak, "Tell the camera how much you love it when I tease you. When I make you beg for it."

Your body was damn near burning, crying out for release, but you knew he wouldn’t give it to you until you asked for it—until you begged. And even then, he’d make you wait, because that’s how he controlled you, how he made you submit completely. He loved to hear the desperation in your voice, to see the way your body shook, and to know that he held all the power.

“I love it,” you gasp, your voice shaky and breathless as your body quivers. “Fuck, I love when you do this to me… when you make me beg for you.” The words tumble from your lips, barely a whisper as you could hardly form the words.

“Please Roman, I need you..so fucking bad..”

His hand slid lower, fingers trailing from your neck to your other breast savoring the way your body trembled under his touch. You could feel his body heat behind you, his scent and his presence wrapping around your senses. The breaths you took felt heavy, your lips parting as your gaze remained fixed on the camera.

"Look at you," Roman murmured in your ear. His right hand now pulling behind you to travel down the curve of your spine, resting on your waist as he pulled you back against him. His grip was strong, and you were caught between the camera’s cold, silent witness and his touch. "The camera loves you. I love watching you like this."

The camera’s lens seemed to drink in every bead of sweat forming on your brow and the goosebumps on your skin as Roman’s hands explored you. His fingers traced the contours of your hips before slipping between your thighs, teasingly slow. You gasped softly, your voice trembling into the quiet of the room.

He chuckled darkly, the sound vibrating against your back. "I want you to make the kind of sounds this camera will never forget." he whispered, lips brushing the shell of your ear.

You could barely hold back a moan as his fingers pressed deeper, setting a pace that left you breathless. Your body responded helplessly, hips rocking back toward him, wanting more contact. The camera captured it all—your movements, the flicker of need that crossed your face, the sounds that fell from your lips. Everything. And that's exactly what he wanted.

"There you go, that's Daddy's sweet girl.."

Leaning in closer, his mouth traced the sensitive skin of your neck. His fingers quickened their rhythm, and your fingers held on tighter to the dresser if that was even a possibility.

You whimpered his name, the tension coiling tighter inside you. Roman pressed closer, his lips brushing the delicate skin just beneath your ear, as your body arched against him, his muscles melting into the grooves of your own.

"That's it, let it all out." he coaxed, "Show the camera exactly how much you want it."

Roman's fingers played you like an instrument, and with every stroke, every flick, he pulled a new sound from you. Your world blurred as his words sank in, pushing you further into bliss. The sound of your moans filled the room and your gasps were captured perfectly by the camera's mic—your whimpers echoing in the silence. Roman's fingers pressed deep into your pussy, curling and grazing every part of your pussy that made you want to crumble and curl into a ball. You cried out, your pussy contracting around his fingers soaking them into the slick juices that he typically loved coating his tongue in.

As your body trembled in the aftermath, Roman leaned closer, "Perfect," he whispered, "Exactly what I wanted."

The camera blinked its final red light, sealing this moment. It was more than just a scene—it was a movie, starring only you and him.

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

Aw, this was better in my head lol

Tags: @harmshake @southerngirl41 @sortudademais @empressdede @alichesmi

@msbigredmachine @theninthwonder @blacst4r @sassginamillls @wrestlingprincess80

@headoftheetable @trashbin-nie @saintmagx @venusesworld

@mzv11 @tshepisho @cyberdejos2 @femdisa @dayaimonee

[writeriguess]

katsuki x reader where the reader is pregnant but in like the early stage and doesnt know she is pregnant yet, she is experiencing morning sickness AGAIN and katsuki takes care of her. she goes to take a test and is positive but doesnt know how to tell him

You wake up feeling that all-too-familiar nausea bubbling in your stomach again. For the past week, mornings had become your worst enemy. At first, you thought it was a bad batch of food or a stomach bug, but this was the fifth day in a row you had sprinted to the bathroom the moment you opened your eyes.

Slumping over the toilet, you groaned, head resting against the cool ceramic. Your body felt drained, and your stomach was still queasy.

"Oi, you in here?" Katsuki’s voice came from behind you.

You barely lifted your head as he walked into the bathroom. His eyes softened, concern immediately washing over his face.

"Again?" he muttered, kneeling down beside you. He gently pulled your hair back and rubbed slow circles on your back. “I thought you were over this crap. Been almost a week now.”

You nodded weakly. “I don’t know… maybe it’s something I ate? But nothing’s off… I don’t know what’s wrong.”

He let out a grunt, not entirely convinced. Katsuki wasn’t exactly the type to freak out, but you could tell he didn’t like seeing you like this. His hands lingered on your back, trying to provide you some comfort.

"You think you should go see a doctor?" he asked, his voice lower now.

You shook your head. "I’ll be fine. Maybe it’ll pass today."

Katsuki was silent for a moment before helping you up. "Here, drink some water. Get yourself together. If this doesn’t stop, I’m dragging your ass to the doctor tomorrow." His tone was gruff but filled with genuine worry.

You chuckled softly, taking the glass of water from him. "Thanks, Katsuki. You’re sweet when you want to be."

He clicked his tongue. "Yeah, whatever."

As the morning went on, you felt slightly better, but something about it kept gnawing at you. The sudden sickness, the fatigue, the strange cravings you’d been having the past week. You weren’t one to jump to conclusions, but there was one thing that kept crossing your mind.

Could I be… pregnant?

The thought alone sent a jolt through your body. You and Katsuki hadn’t exactly been trying, but you hadn’t been overly cautious either.

You excused yourself and slipped out to the drugstore nearby, your heart racing as you picked up a pregnancy test. Back home, you took a deep breath, staring down at the little plastic device. Waiting for those couple of minutes felt like an eternity.

Then, there it was. Positive.

You stared at the result, blinking rapidly, trying to process it.

Pregnant. I’m… pregnant.

The excitement and fear clashed within you. Your mind raced, wondering how Katsuki would react. He wasn’t the most expressive person when it came to emotions, but you knew how much he loved you. Would he be ready for this? Were you ready for this?

You sat on the edge of the bed, holding the test in your hands, trying to think of how to tell him. You couldn’t just blurt it out. Your heart pounded as you imagined his reaction.

Suddenly, the door opened, and Katsuki stepped in, eyeing you suspiciously.

"Why the hell are you just sitting there like that?" he asked, crossing his arms. “You’re all weird today.”

You bit your lip, your hands trembling slightly as you hid the test behind your back. "Katsuki, I… I have something to tell you.”

He raised an eyebrow, stepping closer. “What is it? You’re being all weird again. What the hell is going on?”

You took a deep breath, summoning every ounce of courage you had. Slowly, you revealed the test, holding it out to him. His eyes flicked from you to the test, his face going from confusion to shock in a matter of seconds.

Katsuki stared at it, his mouth slightly open. "Wait… are you serious?" he asked, his voice much softer than usual.

You nodded, your own emotions threatening to overflow. “Yeah… I think I’m pregnant.”

He remained silent for a moment, just staring at the test as if he couldn’t believe it. Then, slowly, a smile began to form on his face—a real, genuine smile, the kind you didn’t get to see often. He knelt down in front of you, resting his forehead against your stomach gently.

"You’re pregnant," he whispered, his voice trembling slightly. "We’re gonna have a kid."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you placed your hands on his head. You nodded, your heart swelling with love and joy. "Yeah, we’re gonna have a kid."

For the first time, Katsuki’s tough exterior cracked, and you could see the pure happiness in his eyes. His hand rested on your stomach, and he looked up at you, his expression soft and full of emotion.

"You’re amazing, you know that?" he said, his voice low. "I’m gonna take care of you… both of you."

And just like that, you knew that everything was going to be okay. You were both in this together, and no matter what, Katsuki would be by your side, ready to face this new chapter with you.

Requests are open. Send as many as you like.

[i5uckersblog]

When It Hurt

Summary: Logan cares for Wade during a painful episode, showing him he’s not alone.

Wade was slipping.

The pain felt different this time—worse. It crawled under his skin, dug into his bones, and wouldn’t let go. He had stopped keeping track of the days, the hours. Time blurred into one endless stream of hurt, and the only constant was the hollow ache deep in his body as it rebelled against him. His healing factor, usually his greatest weapon, was failing him tonight. Every cell felt like it was tearing itself apart.

He couldn’t move. Couldn’t think. He was cold. So cold that his teeth chattered, even as sweat dripped down his scarred face. His body lay sprawled on the floor of his dingy apartment, too weak to rise, too stubborn to call anyone for help. Not that anyone would care, right?

The door creaked open, but Wade didn’t lift his head. He couldn’t muster the strength to react, not even when the familiar heavy footsteps approached. A low sigh cut through the silence, and then that voice, rough as gravel.

“Wade.”

Logan.

Wade’s breath hitched, his body convulsing in a painful shiver. He wanted to say something, crack a joke, but all that came out was a broken whisper. “Logey…? Thought you… swore off visiting my… beautiful face.”

Logan didn’t answer right away. Instead, he knelt beside Wade, his gruff demeanor softening for a moment as he took in the sight of the man lying before him—pale, trembling, and looking more fragile than Logan had ever seen him. Wade was always larger than life, hiding behind endless wisecracks and masks, but now… now he looked small. Vulnerable.

“Christ, Wade. What’ve you done to yourself?” Logan muttered, his brows furrowing. His hands were steady as he gently touched Wade’s face, checking for fever. Cold as ice. “You’re freezing.”

Wade let out a weak laugh, the sound hollow and brittle. “Yeah… I’m a walking popsicle… catch me while you can.” His lips quivered, his voice breaking at the end. He hated this—hated being weak in front of anyone, especially Logan.

Logan didn’t bite at the joke this time. His focus was on getting Wade off the floor, his hands moving with surprising gentleness as he hooked them under Wade’s arms. “C’mon. We gotta get you warmed up,” Logan grumbled, lifting him with ease. Wade’s body was limp, too drained to protest.

The mercenary let out a faint groan as Logan guided him toward the couch, his muscles spasming with every step. It hurt. It all hurt. But he didn’t want Logan to see it—didn’t want to let anyone see how much it hurt.

“Logey, if you wanted to… cuddle, you could’ve… asked,” Wade slurred, trying desperately to keep up the act.

Logan just shook his head, his jaw tight. He laid Wade down on the couch, careful not to jostle him too much. Wade could feel the warmth of Logan’s hands lingering on him even after he pulled away. A shiver wracked his body, and his teeth chattered violently.

Logan grabbed a blanket from the back of the couch, covering Wade with it. “You’re a goddamn idiot,” Logan muttered, but there was no anger in his voice—just something that sounded almost… sad.

Wade stared up at him through half-lidded eyes, his vision blurry. “Yeah, but you… you love me,” he whispered, his breath catching on the last word.

Logan froze for a second, his expression flickering with something unreadable. Then, without a word, he disappeared into the kitchen. Wade could hear the sound of cabinets opening and closing, water running. His body ached, the pain throbbing in every limb, but for the first time in days, he wasn’t completely alone.

Logan returned a few minutes later, kneeling beside the couch with a steaming mug in one hand and a glass of water in the other. He pressed the glass to Wade’s lips, helping him drink. Wade gulped down the cool liquid, grateful for the relief it brought to his parched throat.

Logan watched him, his brow furrowed with concern. “When’s the last time you ate somethin’?”

Wade blinked, trying to remember. The days had bled together, but he couldn’t recall the last time he’d had anything besides a few sips of water. “Who needs food when you’ve got… cancer couture?” he rasped, but the joke fell flat, the usual spark missing from his voice.

Logan’s hand tightened around the mug, and for a moment, Wade thought he was going to snap. But instead, Logan held the mug up to Wade’s mouth, his touch so gentle it almost felt like a dream. Wade sipped slowly, the warmth of the broth spreading through his chest, taking the edge off the freezing cold that had settled deep in his bones.

“You’re not invincible,” Logan said quietly, his voice rough but soft. “I know you act like you are, but… this? This ain’t a joke, Wade.”

Wade’s breath hitched, a lump forming in his throat. Logan didn’t talk like this. Logan didn’t do feelings. But here he was, sitting beside Wade like a goddamn guardian angel, watching over him with that stubborn look of his.

“Hey… don’t… don’t get all mushy on me, Wolvie,” Wade whispered, but the usual sarcasm was gone. His voice cracked, betraying him. “I’m fine… always fine.”

“No, you’re not,” Logan snapped, but then his tone softened again. “You don’t have to pretend with me.”

That hit Wade harder than any bullet or blade ever had. He closed his eyes, swallowing hard against the sudden wave of emotion that rose in his chest. The pain was still there, sharp and all-consuming, but so was something else—something warmer, something that cut through the icy numbness that had settled over him.

“Why do you care?” Wade asked, his voice barely a whisper now. His eyes fluttered open, meeting Logan’s steady gaze. “Why… do you always come back?”

Logan didn’t answer right away. His expression was stoic, but Wade could see the tension in his jaw, the way his hand gripped the edge of the couch like he was holding something back. Finally, Logan spoke, his voice low and raw.

“Because you’re not alone in this,” he said, his eyes never leaving Wade’s. “No matter how much you act like you wanna be.”

Wade’s breath caught in his throat, and for once, he didn’t have a joke. Didn’t have anything to say to that. Instead, he just let the words settle, let the warmth of Logan’s presence wrap around him like the blanket tucked over his shaking form.

Logan stayed by his side, not moving, not saying another word. He didn’t have to. Wade closed his eyes, feeling the heaviness in his chest start to loosen, just a little.

It still hurt—God, it hurt so much—but with Logan there, it was bearable. He wasn’t fine, not by a long shot. But he wasn’t alone.

And for now, that was enough.

[aurulia]

you stood just outside the restaurant, already feeling the familiar tension building in your chest. matt’s hand was warm against your lower back as he gently guided you toward the entrance. tonight was a big deal. not just any dinner, but the first time you were meeting his brothers, Chris and Nick. you had heard so much about them, seen countless videos, but being face to face with them felt like a whole new level.

you tugged at the sleeves of your oversized sweater, fidgeting with the fabric as nerves bubbled up. the sweater, one of matt’s favourites, hung loosely on you, the sleeves long enough that your hands were barely visible, swallowed by the fabric. you played with the edges, your fingers curling inside the soft material, a nervous habit Matt had noticed long ago.

matt glanced down at you, instantly picking up on the way your fingers twisted the sleeves, the way you kept your head down a little more than usual. he stopped just before you both reached the door, turning to face you fully.

“hey,” he said softly, reaching out to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly along your skin. “you don’t have to be nervous. It’s just my brothers. I promise they’re gonna love you.”

you nodded, but the slight tremble in your fingers gave you away. “I know. I just… it’s a lot, meeting them for the first time. I don’t want to mess it up.”

matt’s lips quirked into a smile, and he leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead. “sweetheart, you couldn’t mess it up if you tried,” he said. “and you look adorable in my sweater, by the way.”

you felt a soft warmth rise to your cheeks as you ducked your head, smiling to yourself. the sleeves of his sweater hung over your hands, hiding them completely. “I’m not even sure they’ll be able to see me under all this fabric,” you joked.

matt chuckled, tugging you closer, his arm wrapping around your shoulders. “they’ll see you, and they’ll love you. and if it gets too much, just squeeze my hand. I’ll know.”

you nodded again, feeling a little lighter with him by your side. he pushed open the door, leading you into the restaurant.

when you reached the table, chris and nick were already seated, chatting with each other. chris spotted you two first. “finally! we were starting to think you guys bailed.”

matt just laughed, pulling out a chair for you before sitting down next to you. his hand slid over yours under the table, his fingers wrapping gently around your still fidgeting ones. you peeked at his brothers from behind the safety of your sweater sleeve, feeling a bit awkward.

nick smiled at you, “it’s so nice to finally meet you,”

you smiled sweetly, your fingers slightly letting go of the sleeve of your sweater. “nice to meet you, too.”

chris, being a bit more direct, leaned forward with a grin. “matt never shuts up about you, by the way.”

you giggled, turning your head to matt “is that so?” matt nudged Chris with a glare before turning to you. “alright fine, maybe i do talk about you alot, but can you blame me?”

you bit your lip, smiling “ill take that as a compliment.”

matts thumb brushed over the back of your hand in a slow, soothing motion. he leaned in, his voice low so only you could hear. “you’re doing great, sweetheart.”

you gave him a small smile, leaning into the warmth of his arm next to you. matt kept a comforting presence beside you the entire time, making sure you were okay with just a squeeze of your hand every now and then.

when the food arrived, matt, true to his word, ordered for you, noticing the way you hesitated when the waiter came around. “she’ll have the same as me,” he said casually, not drawing any attention to it.

by the end of the night, as you were getting ready to leave, Chris leaned over with a grin. “You survived your first sturniolo dinner. not bad.”

nick nodded. “yeah, you’re stuck with us now.”

you smiled, feeling more at ease than you had when you first walked in. matt, noticing how much more relaxed you were, pulled you into a quick hug, kissing the top of your head. “told you they’d love you,” he murmured against your hair.

“mhm,” you hummed softly, resting your head on his chest, feeling a warmth spread through you that had nothing to do with the sweater.

[gallaghersgal]

idk I’m feeling sick rn and just need some kerry comfort thoughts

:((( i hope you feel better love!! here’s a mini blurb. no warnings! fluff fluff fluff, fem reader, use of “darlin” and “baby girl” 🥰🥰

a thud startles you awake, your aching body jolting at the noise. “‘ey darlin’, heeyyy,” kerry’s voice comes to you softly from across the bedroom. you hear him drop his jeans and coat, then his footsteps padding towards the bed.

“mmph—kerry?” you ask softly, your eyes remaining closed.

“shh, shh—yeah, jus’ me baby girl. didn’t mean t’ scare ya.” the bed dips as he plants one hand on the mattress, leaning down in the dark to kiss your forehead. you can sense the way his brow furrows, lips sealing to your heated skin again to confirm his worry. “y’re burnin’ up,” he mutters, and rests the backs of his fingers against your forehead.

a shiver runs through your body, “yeah, must’ve caught somethin’,” you groan, followed by a pathetic sniffle.

kerry can’t help but chuckle. his thumb brushes your cheekbone before he leans down to kiss the area. “i’ll getcha some medicine, m’kay? jus’ let me go brush m’teeth first.”

it’s a few minutes before he returns, glass of water and a little cup of cold medicine in his hands. you’ve sat yourself against the headboard, your body trembling as your immune system fights whatever is giving you hell. he’s now clad in nothing but a comfy pair of shorts, his chest a warm welcome for you to smush your face into after you’ve downed the medicine. “hate the taste ‘f that shit,” you grumble against his smooth skin.

one large hand cups your jaw and tilts your face up, patting your cheek gently before removing his hand to grab the water glass. kerry tips it to your lips so you can take a few sips to wash the sickly sweet, medicinal taste out of your mouth. “i know baby girl,” he coos, “jus’ drink f’me, atta girl.”

you whine but do as he says, taking the glass in your own hands to drink until it’s only a quarter full. water spills past the corner of your mouth as your hands tremble from the effort, your body clearly ready to reenter the peaceful, slumbering state you’d been in previously. kerry takes the glass when you’re finished and you lay down in bed, cozying up with your pillows.

“y’re gonna get sick,” you mumble as he lays down beside you, one strong arm pulling you to lay against him. his chest rumbles with a laugh—the way you’re congested you feel it more than hear it—and he kisses the crown of your head.

“we spend a helluva lot of time t’gether, i was bound t’get it anyway.” he counters. his hand rubs down your back soothingly, listening to the content sigh that escapes you.

[whosyuno]

(a/n: in reply to this comment. content warning: drunk sex, please skip if it's not your cup of tea!!!!)

normally, you wouldn't have invited nerd!jaehyun to parties.

first of all, you would not publicly associate with him – not that he would either. y'all belong in different social strata and it's hard for him to mix with your friends, vice versa. not classist/elitist, just practical reasons.

secondly, it's not like you guys are close enough for you to invite him. he's just your calculus tutor (goddamned calculus) and you're just one of his many tutees (that just happened to have dry humped once).

but you wanted to see him drunk. if he's repressed from all the studying that he has been doing, surely with the help of some alcohol, he'll be... entertaining to say the least.

and you'd be right, kinda.

it feels like deja vu when you find jaehyun rutting his hips needily against your damp panties, again. except this time, it seems that alcohol makes him more sensitive to every touch and sensation.

his cheeks are flushed and his half-hooded eyes are filled with tears. he whines loudly and for once you're grateful for the shitty house party music that drowns out his voice.

"fuuuuck," jaehyun cries out as he buries his face into your neck, "babe i-i waant you. now. please. pleasepleaseplease."

at first, you take his words as a drunken man's ramble but when you don't do anything, he looks up at you with the most desperate pout, "i neeeeed you to fuck me. fuck me sooo good, yeah?"

you don't need to be told a third time.

you're quick to pull out his cock before sliding it into your wet cunt. this has him throwing his head back as fresh tears spring into his eyes. his (surprisingly) large hands are quick to hold your hips down, preventing you from moving.

"waittttt, fuck! don'tmove, i'm g'na cum," his voice is strained and you could almost hear the effort he's putting to not bust from one single stroke.

it takes him a moment to get used to feeling of your tight pussy clenching down on his cock but soon enough, he allows you to move against him.

you start slow, loving how his body trembles with each thrust. but he just looks so fucking delicious that it makes you want to bully him more.

as you move your hips, his moans and words devolve into loud whines as he begs for more and more. he's much louder than when he's sober and, by this point, you're such that the music isn't doing much to mask his voice.

"i need you babygirl, i need you," he chants like a mantra over and over again. "always wanted this. fuck, you feel- oh god! cummingcumming- i'm g'na–"

this spurs your hips to move quicker and faster.

words turn into rambles and panting as his orgasm rips through him fast. but he's sober enough to push you off of his cock and lets his cum spill all over his shirt and torso.

"that was nice," jaehyun says when he finally catches his breath – his voice sounding a little too sober for a drunk man.

[kerryweaverlesbian]

Saint of the Smallest Sun

The first time Ambriel came to earth, it was new, and fresh, and innocent. The lesser angels were taken on a tour in proto-humanoid-vessels, before the real humans were awoken. Ambriel had stepped into a pile of rotting fruit with her vessel's bare foot, and decided not to come again if she could help it.

The second time she came to earth, it had had an extra 4.5 billion years in which to rot, and she was forced there. One moment, she was processing information through the incorporeal fibers of her wings, and the next she was bound to a 5 foot circle of space in a human form wearing a pantsuit. She looked from the ring of holy fire surrounding her to the room it was set in; a crumpled bed with a stretched out photograph as  the duvet pattern, a series of posters depicting scenes from the Winchester Gospels, a chunky computer monitor showing a forum comment page, and a young woman kneeling amongst a flurry of papers with a mortar and pestle beside her, the crackle of after-magic still hovering over it. The woman was staring at her, eyes and mouth agape, like one of the fish that the archangel Gabriel kept brandishing at anyone close to him on that first day on earth. Ambriel had only seen it from a distance, but the image had remained in her mind, as everything she learned remained.

Ambriel touched her own cheek gently, and then pinched it hard between her fingers. She winced. This wasn't a vessel. This temporary form must have been crafted by the spell, which suggested that the person who brought her here was either a powerful spellcaster or had an abnormally strong sense of will. She glanced skeptically back at the kneeling woman, who had brought up both hands to cover her mouth and was still just staring at her. Maybe there was a third option.

"Can you let me go?" She tried, careful to speak with her new vocal chords instead of her true voice. It scratched a little, but seemed serviceable. "I have like, a lot to do."

"Mmnnhn," the human said, muffled by her own hands, and then she started and dropped them: "I mean. Michael. Wow! I was expecting - I mean, just based on all the other characters, I thought you'd be, you know, a guy. Not that there's anything wrong with girls - I - I was such a big fan of Jo! You know, after it was clear she wasn't going to be a threat to the brother's relationship. I just think it gets in the way, sometimes, like, the story is about men, why do girls even need to be involved, you know? But I am a feminist! So, yeah, I- I love that you're a woman that's - that's great."

Ambriel squinted at her, deeply confused. What is she talking about? This seemed to fluster the woman, who finally blinked, and rapidly.

"Oh, god. Don't ramble Becky. Be normal. Be normal, Becky. Okay! So..."

The woman - Becky, presumably - lowers her forehead to the floor and links her fingers in front of her in a prayer pose. Her voice trembles when she speaks again:

"Dear...you. I know I'm not important to the story. And I know it's not fated or plotted or anything. But I thought...I have to try, right? That's what Sam would do. Trying against impossible odds is what Supernatural is all about. So, I'm here on behalf of humanity to beg for our lives. Please. Don't do the Apocalypse. It'd be really bad if you did the Apocalypse. Chuck's not the most descriptive writer, but from what I've seen of his notes...yikes. And it's already pretty bad now, just with Lucifer walking the Earth. Just, grab him and duke it out on Mars, or something, if you really have to fight. Please, please, just leave the Earth alone."

"You want me to...cancel the Apocalypse?" Ambriel asked, and Becky desperately nodded. "Oh, I can't do that. So, can you let me out now, or...?"

Read my Becky/Ambriel fic, Saint of the Smallest Sun, on ao3 for more!

[yrsonpurpose]

I can feel your skin against mine, and it makes every bone in my body ache.

[fairy-angel222]

𝐆𝐨𝐣𝐨 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

He’s so cocky at first, smirking when you bottom down on his length. “Think you can handle it baby? Take your time if you need to kay? I know it might be too much f’ you.” He chuckles.

You raise a brow in amusement. “Oh i can handle it baby, can you?” Was what you’d first said. And that question hadn’t changed since.

His lips parted in breathy groans and heavy breathing as his hands find your waist. Lips red and swollen from biting them as his eyes looked up at you almost pleadingly. “F-fuck baby.. you’re— shit, going so f-fast. Wanna slow d-down hmm?”

You smile widely, back arching as you lean down to kiss his jaw softly. Giving a false hum in thought. “Mmm.. you can take it.” He lets out the most cry like moan, head falling back into his pillow as his hips jerk upwards. Body trembling lightly when his eyes met yours.

“Shit— please baby. You d-don’t know how fucking- haah.. how fucking tight she’s grippin’ me right now.” He was referring to the way your snug walls stroked up and down his length with every harsh bounce of your hips. “I’m gonna— o-oh fuck, gonna cum again.”

You couldn’t help but giggle at the crack in his voice. Your head tilted to the side as you coo teasingly. “Yeah? Gonna be a good boy n cum f’ me baby?”

He chuckles shakily, chest rising and falling at a rapid pace as his cock twitches inside you. “God i fucking love you— ahh, even when you’re milking my cock like you hate m-me.” His senses were heightened, ears picking up the every squelch on your sopping pussy and his cock feeling every ridge of your gummy walls.

He lost it when you began rolling your hips sensually. Your thighs sticking to his at the mere amount of slick that joined you two. Your wetness and his cum seeping between your folds and down his girth, turning your skilled movements sloppy as you rut your hips.

You brought a hand to his face, using your nail to brush his hair off of his sweaty forehead. “C’ mon.. let it all out.” You smiled sweetly, eyes holding a dark glint when his eyes turn teary. Small beads of water pooling at his lids before he’s crying out your name.

Overly sensitive cock aching as he spills yet another load into you. Pumping the thick white substance till you’re pumped full. The rest of the substance spurting back onto him at the lack of space.

You let out a moan, “Wow baby- there’s so much. Might.. might just be your biggest load yet.” You were getting tired, but you’d never let him know that. You swear you hear him whimper when you capture his lips with yours slowly beginning to rock your hips again.

“Shit— don’t think- d-don’t think i can give you any more baby. Feels like my cock’s gonna f-fall off.” He panted, trying to keep himself together when he felt you jerking him off with your smug walls again. A small tremble raking through his body each time your ass landed back down.

His hand left your waist to cover his reddening face. Unable to hide the cherry shade of his ears and neck as he whimpered yet again. Choking out a string of moans with tears staining his cheeks when you shush him gently, “‘S only one more baby, give me one more.”

You were the only one with the ability to truly break Satoru if you tried.

[screampied]

✧ ⁺˳ cw. fem! reader. husband nanami, whiney nanami, brēeding, cowgirl, mdni. adding to this

riding nanami so good that it makes him want to propose. focusing his weight purely on his rocking chair, the continuous creaks sing as you’re rutting back and forth. “s- sweetheart,” he slurs in a dreamy tune, a baritone-like rasp falling on his words. one hand of his grips toward your waist, tracing a thumb against the pretty curvature of your torso. whining yourself, you lean in toward his neck to bury your face near the crook, but he makes you collapse back. “no, no. don’t hide from me, wanna see those eyes,” and as gentle, mahogany irises meet your own, he groans. “good girl, my good girl. jus’ keep lookin’ at me, yeah.”

“kennnn,” you whimper, the repetitive dragging of your hips scratching a bittersweet carnal itch near the insides of your brain. his body heat was scorching hot, you thought you were gonna melt. the insatiable skin slapping against skin makes you deliriously numb, you want more. with your loose jaw hanging itself open, drooping—you lean in to lick a stripe up his neck. “fuck, ‘s good. mhm,” and each time you slam back and forth against him, he kisses his teeth. nanami’s sweating profusely, he barely even notices though because his entire attention’s focused on you. his pretty girl. although, the moment you start to dip your hips in a deep circular rotation, he tosses his head back.

“fuckin’ s- shittt,” he swears, and even his curses sounded so blissful . . sinful. for the first time in forever, nanami whines. the palm of his hand then closes in on your ass to give it a good firm squeeze. with fawn strands covering his eyes, he starts to shake. with his hefty chest heaving and a needy tone pouring from his voice, his gaze meets yours once more. “marry me, m- marry me, i need you to be my wife, please.”

an eyebrow of yours quirk upward at his words as a smile pierces its way against your spit-slicked lips. you throw your arms over his broad shoulders before giving him a sweet reply.

“hm?” and your hips had him going insane—the tempo, it was just right. not too fast nor too slow. the centers of your jittery knees bury itself into the sides of the chair before you whisper into his ear. “did you forget, baby? ‘m already your wife.”

nanami moans, your voice was enough to make him spasm right then and there—you sounded so sweet but your insides felt even sweeter.

your sloppy cunt grips against him tight like a vice, simply clinging onto him for dear life. within each pull and bounce against his lap, your walls were so gummy and goopy. it was just tantalizing. you were nothing but a tease and he only craved for more as each second passes.

taking in every inch of his thick cock, you hold back a noise yourself. digging the edges of your teeth into your bottom lip to suppress an incoming squeal, you kiss his neck — it was slow, you create a soft trail of butterflies with your lips. marking his neck with your own wings that press against your mouth.

“hah, oh . . are we?” he responds, panting. with a hand still glued to your hip like it’s made of adhesive, his eyes meets his ring finger. you and him were definitely still married. he groans, feeling a lump in his throat equivalent to the size of a saucer. “ah, forgive me sweetheart. ‘m sorry, y- your hips are just so..”

he doesn’t even bother trying to finish his trembling sentence before his cock kisses up against your g-spot once more. not just an ordinary kiss though, a french kiss.

it’s sloppy, passionate, and exquisitely thorough.

tangled fingers of yours claw at his cerulean blue dress collar. with cobwebs and cobwebs of slick saliva sloshing against each mouth — he huffs, shivering from your hands to roam further down his work shirt he wore. nanami was sexily slouched back, two thighs spread open for you with a single leg bouncing up and down in anticipation.

oh, he was close. his base sags and hangs as you’re rutting against him quicker and quicker. with a nice amount of fingers scraping through his hair and toying your fingertips with his scalp, you dip your tongue further into his mouth. “m- my love,” he purrs, and you don’t think you’ve ever heard him so whiney. his voice was melodic at most, each breaking syllable making the throbbing between your legs intensify. “don’t stop, please—i love you, i love you.”

“i love you too ‘ken,” you babble, feeling the elastic stretch curve and pull through your walls.

your lips part and you moan before feeling him hold your waist tight. nanami groans against your ear and it’s so low that it was almost a mere growl. it could have easily been mistaken as a growl with the raspiness in his voice. with your knees continuing to plow deeper into the chair, bouncing back and forth, he spanks you, again, and again, and again.

nanami’s about to come, you know once his prettily blown irises roll wayyy back until he’s seeing white and his thin brows curl into a proper furrow.

each sloppy bounce against his lap punctuates so good that he’s barely able to hold his moans back by now. you had him hooked. his faint poking dimples press together as he tries to speak, but instead of words, another dragging whine escapes. leaning up against his ear, your warm breath tickles his lobe. “c’mon, kento. cum in me, ‘s okay. make a mess in me, baby.”

“f- fuck, keep talk to me just like that, sweetheart ‘n i might,” he replies back in a shaky tone, feeling a chill reside up his spine.

your cunt’s addictive warmth was preparing to milk him for all that he’s worth. as he clenches down on his jaw for the umpteenth time, his grip against your waist tightens. “ugh, ‘s gonna be so much. so much for you, my sweet l- love,” and as he’s rambling, a thick load abruptly shoots into your core, dribbling into your womb. it’s hot, and when it rains it pours. nanami swallows thickly, the same lump that lived in his throat was now forming into a ball. your hips steadily slow down and you glance down to see the lewd mess emitting deeply into you. it’s so much—it’s velvety, creamy ropes of cum that quickly fill you up to the very top. as his tip spits such sloppy amounts of seed into your starved cunt, he bites his lip. “oh, ‘s still comin’ out. forgive me, ‘m givin’ you all of me, princess.”

with a soft smile, you kiss near the crevice of his mouth where a tiny crinkle caresses and marinates against his soft features. “don’t apologize for being dirty, ken. ‘s okay.” and his face softens at your words. nanami feels his body shudder with heat from how gentle you were with him.

you’re clinging onto him dry and he’s still pumping you full of ridiculous inches—featuring his beloved, syrupy textured cum. it’s a whopping amount that he could barely process how much he’s gifted to you until he actually looks down. the moment chest deflates, the sensitive crown head of his cock gives your sweetest spot its final chaste kiss. satisfied with being filled to the very brim, you don’t get off just yet. instead, you remain there, gently brushing your hips forward.

“m- marry me,” he repeats, his voice cracking.

nanami hears the squelches and spurts your own pussy makes from the residue of cum spewing from the undersides of your legs. “ah,” and he grips your chin, attempting to kiss you but his lips instead reach toward your chin. you worn him out, he’s barely even reaching your mouth and it’s cute. nanami’s got hooded half lidded eyes and a pried open mouth. he’s almost drooling for you, that’s how whipped you had him. “be my wife, i need you.”

kissing his cheek, you smile at his current pussy drunken state. taking a mental image to savor this moment forever, a thumb brushes its way against his tender cheek. “i'm your wife already, silly,” and his eyes dramatically roll back in rapture again. nanami’s releases always last long, and he’s still getting over it. his dick twitches from the sound of your voice, and he wanted more of his sweet sweet wife. the feeling of your sopping walls squeezing him for every ounce of cum he’s got makes him grunt. it feels so good that it’s almost heavenly. it’s warm and insanely sticky — oozing in ropey wads from your hole before trickling all near his lap. “all yours, ken.”

“all m- mine,” he repeats breathlessly, gently grabbing your wrist up to his mouth.

with a sheepish exhale leaving his lips, a free hand slithers its way toward your tummy. sighing deeply, nanami makes direct eye contact. “my love,” he repeats for a final time, and you gasp once he suddenly pulls out.

pouting for a second at feeling empty, he makes you lie flat on your back. nanami’s got a feral look in his eyes, broad shoulders raising up and down and messy unkempt strands all in his face, he wants one thing tonight and it’s you.

as he spreads your quavering legs open with a single hand, he then creeps two fingers toward your stuffed cunt to smear his cum near your entrance. “since we’re already married, let me g- give you a baby, sweetheart. you’d be such a good m- mommy.”

[pearlywritings]

Intimacy records

synopsis: what kinds of horny stuff they have in their phones and which is the favorite?

pairing and characters: Aventurine, Blade, Boothill, Dr Ratio, Gallagher, Gepard, Jing Yuan, Loucha, Sampo, Sunday (separately) x fem!reader

tw: SMUT, established relationship (marriage/dating), consensual recording of lovemaking, nudes, oral, lingerie, fingering, masturbation, public sex, breast play, shibari/blindfold, sex machine, creampie

word count: 4.3k+ words

Aventurine

Undoubtedly this man has a whole separate folder for intimate stuff. Of course, he demands you send him something on a daily basis - doesn’t matter if it’s a quick snap of your choice of lingerie in the morning, or recordings of touching yourself - but never enough to cum, it’s his job. Naturally he loves having reminders of you being at his mercy - thus there are also videos of you both (with primarily established consent). All that to say - he has quite the collection, so it’s really hard to pick a favorite, the most desire-arising one.

Maybe it’s a category actually - self-made media created out of bet. Who’ll cum first? Can you keep going without tearing up from pleasure for longer than 10 minutes? Is he patient enough not to touch your sexy self, while you masturbate in front of him? Who is going to be louder this time? These kinds.

”I hope you are ready to lose,” your lover smirks, making himself comfortable between your legs. Camera floats a little, as you chuckle behind it. With a momentary adjustment, the focus is on his face again and he winks, before turning to trail a little path of kisses across your thigh. The image jumps, when he sucks on the skin, and slightly trembles as you let out a sigh. Then it’s firm, as Aventurine wraps his arms around your thighs, his nose teasingly rubbing against your clit. Suddenly there is a lick, then your breath hitches…. And then he buries his mouth into your pussy. It doesn’t take much time for the image to begin shaking wildly, almost matching your debauched noises. There is squelching, there are award-winning male moans, muffled by your heat, soon there is a hand, your hand, reaching down and grabbing his hair. Phone strangely angles, hardly supported by just one hand, until it falls camera down onto the shits. After that, there are just delicious screams of yours, chanting the name of your lover and begging him to stop, while he doesn’t listen, taking his reward for yet another win.

Yeah, he proved you can’t keep the camera focused while he is eating you out in that one. It’s truly a pity, that more than a half of what was going on, didn’t get recorded in image. Maybe next time you'll do better - oh... That's actually not a bad idea at all… Looks like you are in for another bet.

Blade

His situation is… quite peculiar. First of all, he has so little care for his own phone outside using it to get info for the mission, to the point ANYONE from the Stellaron Hunters can just take it and do whatever with it (Silver Wolf and Kafka practice it a lot). Even your relationship doesn’t change it much, he messages you rarely and quite shortly, preferring to save the conversation for personal interaction. 

However recently, Kafka has been putting a plan into action - the first step of which was banning everyone from getting into his phone (herself excluded). Then she’d start sending her colleague an occasional picture of a set of lingerie she’s oh so sure would look wonderful on you. Blade never answers, but he doesn’t tell her off either, and by the snooping she knows that the pictures get bookmarked, the links for the shops she attaches are visited, and sums of money are being spent.

Oh, and by checking the chat… She knows you get them delivered. Does she text you to shower you with compliments? She does. At first it was a little embarrassing and you asked Blade if he could, maybe, pay better attention to his phone??? But soon, when your lover started showing the telltale signs of jealousy... It became pretty hot (plus praise from THE Kafka? Ego-boosting).

Blade doesn’t voice it, but more than seeing you all pretty for him, he loves seeing you ruined for him, and doesn’t complain when you ask him to take a picture with your phone of whatever part of you, focusing on the marks, or the torn crotch of your panties, or something alike… There are times when he would text you with a simple ‘send me pictures with torn stockings’ or ‘yesterday. open nipples bra. now’ , because he knows you have them, and you deliver, because you know he loves them. 

Has his favorites:

Depicts your thighs, bitten and opened wide, while the black panties are pushed aside to let two thick, scar-covered fingers dive into your pussy.

Your body after one of the sessions - bra roughly pushed down under the mark-covered breasts, panties missing, one stocking still on the leg, but with multiple holes in it, and the other tying your wrists above your head.

A small video you insisted on recording of the man tugging onto your garter belt whenever he wanted your hips to push towards his thrust, threatening for the thin elastic material to snap.

Even though he doesn’t save them, he knows how to get an easy access to them, so for Blade it works quite fine (and Kafka’s plan does too, making Blade look less intimacy-repulsed and spicing up your relationship).

Boothill

A cyborg, whose only human part of the body is the head, and sex life… How can this be possible? 

Oh, trust me, it can. Sure, his bodily reaction differs, but he still is excited to get nudes from you, finally able to express through the text what he really thinks with that foul mouth of his. A voice recording of you dirty talking to him? Awesome. A video? You can bet his engine is overheating and vents are whirring.

But in all honesty, the ones he truly loves and returns to are the recordings of him doing stuff to you. Call him self-conscious, it’s not like he can bite back with a swear, but the reminder that he can bring you pleasure even now is sometimes necessary.

The lights are intimately dimmed, not enough to bring the room into utter darkness. Two bodies are lying almost intertwined with your back turned to the camera. The metal arm of your lover has sneaked under your side and around your waist, fingers digging into the plush glob of your ass, tugging on it, to further the spread which is created by your leg thrown over his hip. Your pussy is perfectly presented to the camera, puffy and slick, with two gray plated fingers massaging it. Digits slide up and down your labia, occasionally staying on the clit, to rub tight circles on it and elicit some sweet moans out of you, only to return to their previous ministrations, dipping the tips juuust a little bit into the quivering hole. Your back arches and body deliciously shivers from the contrast of his cool and your heat, and you softly whine, when he releases your ass cheek to give it a spank and then grab it again, unwilling to let the sight of your cunt escape his phone’s camera. You whimper something, muffled by his chest, but he remembers by heart what you were begging for. ‘Please, put your mouth on me.’ He will, in a minute, but right now he pushes both fingers to the second knuckle in, making you jolt in his hold, but not letting you go anywhere.

It’s captivating, how his inhuman digits disappear and reappear with every thrust he makes; slick-covered they look shiny, as if you polished them, and the cyborg shudders, imagining your tongue running around them. That’s one dangerous video, he may just give in to his want to see you and abandon the mission he was assigned to…

Dr Veritas Ratio

Unsurprisingly, Veritas’ phone doesn’t contain that much stuff in general. Maybe some downloaded articles, notes to put down later, if he doesn’t have a piece of paper at the moment, and very few pictures, mainly of his writings on the chalkboard. Don’t be discouraged though, of course he has pictures of you. Some selfies you took after “borrowing” his phone and ones he doesn’t have a heart to delete (but he will scoff at you, should you decide to tease him), and some very well-thought images he took on his own accord - he needs reference for when he decides to let his mind rest from research and focus on sculpting.

And one might think that such a reserved and cold man will not entertain storing anything explicit on his phone. Well, he indeed does not have any pictures and videos saved - if he wants, he can either find what you sent him via your chat or just demand your assistance. However… There is something that strangely became his way of concentrating when doing his research…

”Oh! Mh- *thrust* Veri- ohmygod! *thrust*”

“Wait- Aaah! I can’t! I’m sore! MmmmMMM!” “No, you can and you will. Now hold still, I can’t eat you out if you keep thrashing around.” “Oh Aeons!”

*Slick sounds of you going down on him, gurgling and choking on his girth, occasionally gasping to catch your breath, only to have his cock buried in your throat again*

“Baaaby… I miss you so much… Can I come to your office? I promise to be good… Just need to cockwarm you - nothing else I swear. Let me keep you company pleeease. Imagine how nicely it'd be to have your cock buried in my pussy, while you are working… Need to help you with stress-relief, it's gonna feel so-so good.”

“Oh fuck, o-oh, love, I'm cumming, I'm cumming, I’mcumMIN-” “Ngh, s-so…tight…” “Aaaaaaah~!”

“Veritas Ratio, if you come home in ten minutes, I will give you a nice massage and then ride you damn cock, till the only thing you can think about is not your work, but me. If you fail to do so though… I wonder if my threat to use some toys instead will work. Just know that your wife is very mad. And horny.”

It doesn't matter if the audio was taken while you were intimate or it was something you sent to him and he saved - he thoroughly enjoys everything your voice has to offer to him. And if instead of concentrated it accidentally makes him horny - he'll just play the next one, while undoing his pants.

Gallagher

Oh, this man is a menace. And a huge ass-lover. His gallery is full of pictures of your booty: clothed, just panty-clad or bare. There are shots with your body clearly being bent, ass up and back covered in his load. Videos of him fucking you from behind, with cock sliding in and out of your pussy? Obviously. Recordings of it jiggling as he spanks you? Would’ve been strange if they weren’t there.

However, in that vast collection of his, there is a video that’s most peculiar - one might say scandalous. It was one of those nights when he took over the bar for Siobhan and you came over at some point, all enticing and so sexy in that little dress of yours… He could not resist taking you right there once the establishment was closed. And it got on security camera...

Moans so loud, that they are reaching the recording device, are still of the delicious kind. Your back is arched over the bar counter, arms lifted and wrists tied by none other but Gallagher’s wine-red tie, and held by his own hand for good measure. The front of your dress is pushed down, revealing your pretty breasts, jiggling with every thrust of the man’s hips, and the hem of it has ridden up, baring your stomach and mark-covered thighs. Your lover is barely unclothed, pants and boxers pushed down just enough to free his cock and the tie, obviously, missing. The hand that is not holding your wrists, is grabbing onto your leg, under the knee, lifting it for a better angle, and showing off a lewd detail - your black lace panties hanging on your shin. You are looking positively debauched, and he is no better, groaning and cursing, with an occasional exceptionally rough trust that makes you scream and whine. There are teeth-gritted ‘slut’s and huskily chuckled ‘bad girl’s with your pleading ‘sir’s and ‘Gal’s, all of that deliciously seasoned with the clapping of the wet skin colliding. But nothing beats the moment of you cumming, depicted by no less than three cameras from all of the hottest angles…

Of course this footage was ‘confiscated’ by him with some dumb excuse for Siobhan (he doubts she believed it, given the knowing look and shit-eating grin she gave him), with all traces destroyed except just one copy thoroughly hidden on his phone. He thinks you two should repeat that - this time, however, he’d love to bend you over the counter with your back facing him…

Gepard Landau

Gepard would die if someone took his phone and got into his gallery. Poor man has to change the password weekly to throw Serval off his case (she was only teasing, but that made her brother paranoid). There is a reason for such behavior - while he is way too sweet and gentlemanly to suggest making sexy pics or, Supreme Guardian forgive, videos, he can't help but to be too whipped for you. 

This man dutifully saves every single photo and video of yours - nudes included.

You don't send them very often - you don't want to kill your darling husband. But sometimes the yearning is unbearable, and there is a suffocating need to show Gepard what he is missing while away on duty (you always leave a warning message though, so he could check it while alone and undisturbed).

No matter how red and embarrassed he gets, the man timidly admits that he enjoys this kind of attention. He is not beyond the earthly pleasures - he too has a favorite theme, that recently became more present in what you send him…

At first you looked so absolutely cute and domestic with his huge sweater on, the one you personally knitted for him - the beginning of the video didn’t look all that different from the photos you sent him just minutes before. But soon it becomes clear why you asked if he was alone, because once you position the phone and climb onto the bed, your full attire gets revealed. White stockings are replacing your usual home pants, and as your fingers grab the hem of the sweater and tug it up, the white panties from a matching set start peaking. The view is both pure and alluring, with the way your legs are spreading wide, and the sweater being pushed further up, baring your braless breasts. The hem gets secured between your teeth and both hands teasingly run down your sides, index fingers drawing circles around the tits, before squeezing them; as one remains right there, the other slowly slides down your stomach, disappearing under the hem of those flimsy panties. Imagination paints wild images - every next is hotter than the previous, and only your muffled moans of his name and rapidly rising chest are indicators of how good you feel with fingers pushing in and out of your pussy. And that damn sweater… You are not taking it off.

The Captain of the Silvermane Guards has one guilty pleasure - you, wearing his clothes. Domesticity, longing, finding comfort in something of his touches his heart and heightens his love and desire for you, almost making him consider taking a regular day off.

Jing Yuan

This man literally worships the ground his wife is walking on, so OF COURSE he wants to have as many pictures and videos of you as possible. It gets so boring and lonely when he is at work, after all. But don’t be fooled by his sweet and innocent smile, there are not only cute shots of you both or just you, he has sexy stuff too.

Man is obsessed with your chest. It’s his favorite pillow (thus so many pictures of him snuggling his face right between your breasts), his best stress-relief (photos and short videos of his big veiny hands cupping and squeezing your girls, with an occasional swipe of the thumbs over the erect nipples), his favorite place to leave marks on (no one can see them under the clothes, but just one tug of his finger on your collar and he is met with a delicious sight. Plus the photos he asks to send occasionally).

Loves, loves, loves, purchasing lingerie for you and when you demonstrate your bra-clad tits. He immediately wants them in his face, but there is the phone screen keeping him away.

But oh does he love recordings of playing with them.

Your body is steadily bouncing on your husband’s lap, creating a beautiful melody of skin slapping against skin. There is an occasional peak of his thick cock, covered in your juices, that immediately disappears again, undoubtedly swallowed by your pussy. One strong arm is wrapped around your waist, supporting you, while the other hand is palming at your left breast. The right one has fallen victim to his eager mouth, lips wrapped around the nipple, sucking on it tenderly, tongue toying with the overstimulated nub. His eyes are half-lidded when he looks up at you, moaning around your breast, when you tug on his luscious locks, trying to push him away, to give you a small rest. He is drawing back indeed, planting a soft kiss to the valley between the jiggling globes, and you sigh in relief, deceived by his affectionate action. Only for you back to arch and mouth hang in a loud moan, when Jing Yuan brings your other breast to his awaiting tongue, dropping both hands to your hips to aid you in speeding up your riding, sensing your nearing orgasm.

Maybe next time you should try recording him making you cum by playing with your chest only… Ah, just the thought makes his cock swell.

Loucha

As much as Loucha enjoys your company and more often than not allows you to accompany him in his journeys, there are times when he can’t take you with him. Which means he leaves for weeks, or sometimes a couple of months, going through the days without a single touch from you. Before getting into a relationship with you, he could survive without intimacy just fine, but now, since he knows the taste of affection and being spoiled by you, it’s getting hard.

That’s when recordings on his phone come in handy, especially when there is no opportunity of a video call to indulge. And there is one he most frequently returns to…

Your chest is rising and falling, pretty breasts with perky nipples brought together by a wrap of a rope. Red and purple marks bloom on your skin akin flowers, some fresh, some from days before. Sweat shines on your hot skin, indicating just for how long the blonde has been torturing you with pleasure and denial. There is a small shake of the video, as your lover is establishing his phone, having just started the recording, and softly making you aware of how good you look - you wouldn’t know with that blindfold covering your eyes. Once the angle is perfect - capturing your arms, tied above the head, the arch of your back and thighs pushed together for stimulation, the man is joining you on the bed. It is cock-hardening, how you lift your head to find his lips, when you sense him leaning down, needily allowing him to indulge in a kiss before the game of orgasm denial continues. His hand meanwhile is creeping down your body, starting with caressing your cheek, fingers sliding down your neck, over the swell of your breast, thumb pushing against the nipple, eliciting a moan out of you right into his mouth, and then palm splaying on your stomach, traveling even lower, before it disappears between your thighs.

Loucha is a man of foreplay. There is nothing more satisfying to him, than indulging into your body before sinking his cock into your warmth. He loves making you squirm, completely at his mercy, drawing you right to the edge, and then denying you the sweet release, just to make you yearn, just to stretch the process out.

Sampo Koski

Sampo is nasty and that is not a secret. I am sure, if you were up for it, he’d suggest filming porn just for the giggles (and extra cash, come on, you both are fucking hot). There are teasing nudes and intimate videos, and it’s not a rare occasion of either of you texting the other with some found porn with a caption ‘let’s try it?’ and you do, frequently recording the process to compare later, and claiming that your performance is better.

However, sometimes it tends to not go according to the script (not like you usually have one). Sampo is chaotic and it’s not hard to lose focus with a lover like him, and these exact moments are Koski’s favorite. Despite being a Masked Fool, during these times he himself looks so sincere, it’s as unnerving, as it is exciting. Rewatching such videos and seeing how you mirror the look in his eyes, giggle with him, even crack a joke, all without ruining the mood - makes him believe he’s found his soulmate (and if you did film porn with him, he’d never share this level of intimacy with your viewers, it solely belongs to you two).

You are giggling, shaking your head with a wide smile, all the while lying on your stomach between his toned mark-covered thighs and leisurely fisting his hard, leaking cock with an angrily red tip. 

‘Sampo, please, be a little serious, we are trying to be sexy here.’

‘We are sexy! What’s not hot in shaping my and your pubic hairs into the lips?? They could kiss, when we fuck!’

‘You are unbelievable,’ you snort, trying to save the last bits of your composure, and leaning forward to mouth at his tight balls. This makes your lover pornographically (how ironic) moan, throwing his head back.

‘Mmm, yes, right there~ Oooh… If am soooo unbelievable, it must mean I am dreamy? How about I bring you to a Penacony, to a Dreamscape? I bet in your dream I’d be as good in bed as I am in reality.’

Your resolve snaps and you burst out laughing, letting go of his sack and pressing your face to his thigh, shaking, dropping the hand from around his cock. Sampo whines.

‘Come ooooon, I was so close!’

‘Shu-ah-ha-t-ah-uh-p,’ you manage through your laughter. The man pouts, but the gaze of mint green is summer-warm as he is looking down at your trembling form. Your voice is pretty, your cackles are pretty, and oh damn he is laughing too.

And these are just the first few minutes of the last video, the thing has a duration of half an hour, so, obviously, you didn’t stop there. That’s what Sampo Koski loves - no matter how cringe you become, it’s never a reason to stop the whole process. If anything it’s something to spark an even longer and intimacy-filled one.

Sunday

Keeping personal stuff on his phone is quite dangerous, given Sunday’s position. That’s why he owns two phones - his work one, and one to mainly contact you, his sister, and a small circle of the most trusted people. He is extremely good at handling the owning of two separate devices, never mistaking one for another, that people are often convinced he has only one.

But it’s his personal cellphone that interests us. Oh, does he have a whole collection of photos and videos of you, one folder in particular hidden just for good measure. Sunday is a collected and regal man, yet it doesn’t mean he has a hard time enjoying your teasing. Quite contrary, sometimes he welcomes it, loving the photos you send him from an outing, shopping for clothes, or better yet, lingerie, sending him multiple shots of different sets and asking him which he loves most, and which he’d like to see on you tonight. 

There are videos too, especially when he’s been extremely busy, and you are oh so needy, sending him short recordings of touching yourself, sighing out his name, begging him to come and help you. However, there is one he particularly likes…

Big silicone cock is being pushed in and out by the machine he purchased for you to quell your need when your husband can’t be there for you. You are on your stomach, with hips slightly raised and pushed backwards, chasing the toy, and he can see the perfect outline of your pussy, outer lips swollen and puffy, covered in a sticky substance, opening and constricting in attempts to accommodate the girth. Your moans are sweet, so-so sweet, hitting a high pitch, when the dildo falls out and a thick glob of cum substitute escapes your pussy. And then another, and another, messing your thighs even more, ruining the towel underneath you. Yet you don’t stop, reaching behind, and pushing the tip back into your tight warmth, making the toy pick its pace again. It’s squelching, it’s so dirty, but it’s so hard to look away. You give yourself creampie, after creampie, sometimes stopping to collect the substance and push it inside with your digits, fingering, moaning and whining for your husband, wishing it’s his cum sploshing between your walls, breeding you.

Yes, it’s his favorite, almost 4-minute video. Ever the neat freak, he can’t deny you look heavenly when ruined, on an equally ruined bed, begging for his attention and semen. You have to forget about the machine for some time, however, because since then Sunday has been truly devoted to breeding you.

[sttoru]

·.⌇ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. thinking about true form!sukuna having a huge size kink (+ corruption kink).

word count. 2.6k

note. super self-indulgent. cant rlly blame me for creating this. also do you see those big ass hands in the header i used? yeah.. says enough (this sucks ass)

tags. dom heian era!sukuna x concubine!female reader. smut. porn with plot. size kink / size difference (reader gets referred to as ‘short’ & ‘small’). p in v -> unprotected. degradation. corruption kink (reader gets referred to as ‘naive’, 'shy' & innocent’-looking). tummy bulging. loss of virginity mention. hymen breaking mention. cervix fucking, ouch. lots of teasing. tiny bit of choking. tiny mention of blood tasting ? idk. hint at anal / double penetration. dirty talk. sukuna has two of everything btw mehehe. reader get called ‘woman, brat, slut, little'.

sukuna is intrigued by you. he’s always been, since the moment he’s laid his eyes upon you. your loyalty and devotion to him are two aspects that the king of curses likes most about you. .

. . after your innocence.

it nearly irked him. every time he saw you hanging around the estate without a single care in the world. sukuna would attempt to intimidate you with serious threats. he’d loom over your short stature and look down at you with a malicious glint in his eyes. though, none of it seemed to work.

you'd only bow your head at him and apologise if you’ve caused him any possible inconveniences. it annoyed the sorcerer. you weren’t trembling in fear like all the others would — it was like there was nothing going on in that head of yours. especially when you smile at him. which no one actually dares to do.

sukuna could crush you. with no effort. one big hand would be enough to pick your entire body up, lift you in the air and throw you around like a ragdoll. you don’t seem to fear the possibility of that happening, even when being faced with a pissed off sukuna.

it’s truly intriguing and amusing. that’s why sukuna kept you around every day — as a form of entertainment, he called it. one thing led to the other and you eventually ended up as one of his concubines. the king of curses himself decided to grant you that promotion.

why? because not only does your fragile body, reserved and polite personality and innocence secretly fascinate him — it also makes him crave you. crave to shatter that naivety of yours. to take that small body of yours and make it feel what it means to be overpowered by a man twice your size.

sukuna does not regret his decision to make you his concubine. the first night you spent together was one of the best nights he had ever had. in all his many years of living. not a single woman had ever succeeded in blowing his mind when it came to sex.

it was usually boring and repetitive for the sorcerer. he felt nothing for those women he’s had in bed before — it was solely for the fact of satisfying himself. though, that changed on the day you had given him your virginity.

he remembers every detail; from your little noises of both pain and pleasure, your tight and untouched pussy that bled faintly when the fat tip of his lower cock pushed through, your nails that dug into his arms and back, your thighs that he held to your chest, his large hands that could easily wrap around the fat of them, your aching cunt that was left spasming around air as it tried to keep his sticky cum stored in place.

sukuna didn’t think your tears would affect him as much. when he took your virginity and you whimpered in pain — he did feel a twinge of guilt. it was strange; he hadn’t felt that emotion before. he had stopped and wiped your tears away. roughly whispered some words of encouragement too.

he had never done so before. never. he had never told anyone how ‘good’ they were for him. how he’d be ‘careful’ to not make it hurt any more. the king of curses recalls vividly how slow he started with you. slow sex. instead of rough like he’s used to.

sukuna wasn’t chasing after his own pleasure in that moment like he’d usually have. his main priority was to make sure the girl below him was comfortable enough to continue. you’re strange. the things you make him do, say and feel are strange. and yet. . .

it was an amazing night. the best. however sukuna was left behind with an insatiable hunger for you. more, more, more. he can’t grasp it yet; why he longs for you. for those feelings he’s suddenly capable of experiencing during intimate moments.

it’s why he calls for you every night. no other concubine was needed after you were made one. the king of curses couldn’t care less about those other women. they are boring to him.

unlike you. the one he’s sure that he won’t ever get bored of.

“you can take me so well now,” sukuna breathes out. one of his cocks was inches deep inside you, bulbous tip painfully hitting your cervix. over the past few weeks, your body had learnt to adjust to him, your pussy molded to fit the shape of his dick.

sukuna looks down at you and his cocks twitch with the urge to release already. his heavy balls clenching. your fucked out state is adorable. you seemed so.. vulnerable underneath the big man, “what a fragile little thing.”

it almost sounded condescending. degrading. especially with sukuna’s lips being curled up into a mean grin, his sharp canines showing. there was a puddle of your cum forming underneath your hips — staining the sheets that the poor servants have to clean by tomorrow morning.

“p-please, fngh, ‘s too big,” you sputter out. no matter how many times you took sukuna in, your smaller body couldn’t quite fully accommodate to the girth of him. every time he hits your deepest parts, you let out a painful whimper.

sukuna kisses his teeth, though slows his thrusts a bit. the wet sounds of his cum and yours getting pushed in and out of your cunt with each move was too addicting. what sukuna loves most is the view of the skin of your lower abdomen swelling and stretching each time he pushes forward.

“i thought you said you’d take both of my cocks today, yet it seems like you can’t even handle one,” the king of curses sighs whilst belittling you. one set of hands is holding you down by your hips, the other set is fondling your stiff nipples and circling your sensitive clit, “what a pity. a real pity.”

you almost choke on your spit as all your sensitive spots were being fondled. sukuna’s thick fingers leave no place untouched as he increases the tempo again—his cock plunging in and out of your stretched hole. the upper one was twitching, rubbing against your clit and lower abdomen.

sukuna harshly grabs your jaw and makes you look up at him after he hears you apologise for making empty promises. he seems satisfied with you staying so polite. even when he’s practically rearranging your guts. the way you talk through your soft sobs and cries is endearing. makes him grin wickedly.

“i don’t want to break my favourite little concubine yet, you see,” sukuna continues. he lets out a grunt of pleasure when your pussy clenches around his thick cock. no matter how many times he fucks you dumb, you still remain as tight as the first time.

he takes in a deep breath. he’s trying his best not to pound you into the mattress. he’d fold you in half and probably break you like the fragile thing you are. he could snap you like a twig if he wasn’t careful, “. . .but you’re making it very difficult for me.”

you respond by apologising again. oh, how cute it was to see you babble and make up excuses. sukuna grits his teeth, jaw clenching as he resists the urge to go harder on you. you’re already squirming and moaning loudly just because he’s fucking you hard and deep—bruising your cervix and forcing your walls to open up to him.

“‘m sorry, wanna take both.” you hiccup and sniffle. tears ran down your cheeks from overstimulation. it felt so good yet so painful to be taken by the person you admire most. you didn’t want to displease him, so you uttered those hopeless yet needy sentences again.

sukuna stops his movements when you weakly ask him to use both of his cocks on you. he scoffs, not knowing where you gained the confidence from. he pulls out of your dripping cunt, leaving a trail of cum connecting both your genitalia.

“‘wanna take both,’ she says,” sukuna mocks you under his breath. it’s getting worse; he’s nearing the point of no return. especially with your desperate whines that were like music to his ears, “you’ll break, woman.”

two of his hands move to stroke along his lengths, smearing the mixture of body fluids all over them. his eyes glare down at your small form—already fucked out, yet aching to continue. needing the full experience for once.

you always turn from a shy girl to a complete slut whenever he has you in bed. sukuna loves it.

“i want to try at the very least,” you mutter. it’s true that you’re exhausted. you’re catching your breath now that you got the chance, tired eyes glancing up at sukuna’s enormous stature between your legs, his defined muscles and the tattoos on them glistening under the faint light of the oil lamp.

it got your pussy throbbing and clamping down around air. you felt a bit light headed and your head lolls back against the pillow, eyes glazed over as you try to seem determined. but your body was tired.

“yeah? how. . . cute,” sukuna grins. he knows you can’t. not today at least. he doesn’t mind if you aren’t capable of taking him fully since you’ve already pleased him well enough for now. though, he still can’t help but tease you—make it seem like he’s going to give you what you want, “all right. don’t say i didn’t warn you.”

your eyes widen and your fingers curl around the silky bedsheets beneath you in anticipation. your heart is pounding in your chest as you watch sukuna pump his two cocks a bit faster, squeezing the base a bit, leaking some pre.

it’s all just for show.

“i’m not stopping. even if you scream.” the king of curses warns you with a dangerous glint in his eyes. you gulp at the terrifying aura sukuna was emitting. one of his tips teases your entrance whilst the other probes and circles around your anus.

he threatens you again, testing if you’ll back down, “last chance. i’m not pulling out once i’m in, do y’hear me?”

you keep being stubborn until the very last second. sukuna’s deep voice that shook you to your core was not enough to make you change your mind. you were so desperate to fulfill his every need and make sure that he was satisfied. it made you the perfect woman in his eyes.

the king of curses is completely amused. he decides to take it up a notch. he pushes his lower cock against the tight ring of muscles, pressing and nearly allowing the tip to move in. the sudden increase in pressure is torturous. you surely wouldn’t be able to withstand the entire thing.

“w-wait!” you squeal in surprise and pain. the sting you felt made you snap back into reality. it’s when you realised that maybe you needed more time and experience to take both of sukuna’s dicks. you squirm your hips away, “can’t. i can’t.. hurts too much.”

sukuna nearly rolls his eyes once you finally give in. he shakes his head with a sigh, feigning disapproval and annoyance. he pulls his entire body away from yours—a ominous shadow casted over his eyes. it makes you think that he’s pissed off at you; for being unable to please him.

you panic a little. even if you are sure sukuna wouldn’t ever hurt you. you know he favours you over the other concubines. you don’t want to lose that position.

“i’m sorry.” you apologise before the sorcerer could say anything. he lets out a sharp breath, rough hands back on your body, kneading your flesh gently yet firmly. his eyes take in the view of you trembling.

it’s unreal. you are half his size—completely vulnerable underneath him. he’d normally call people like you weak and useless. wouldn’t feel a thing for them. but your naked body below his is a sight he wishes to see every night.

it turns sukuna on so much. the fact that you are helpless and don’t complain when you’re struggling to take one of his cocks gets him going each time.

“tsk. what’d i tell you?” sukuna grumbles. he slaps his lower cock firmly against your clit. your body responds by closing your thighs together, though the king of curses pries them apart again, “stop overestimating yourself, brat.”

he isn’t actually mad. it was expected—of course you couldn’t take both at once. he didn’t even prep your other hole enough. plus you are clearly still exhausted from the previous rounds. sukuna just likes to. . . test and take advantage of your devotion to him. your obedience and desires to please him.

it’s fascinating to see you squirm and apologise in that whiny voice of yours. it makes him grin from ear to ear. and it keeps things fun.

before you could mutter excuses again, sukuna stops you by leaning in. just when you thought you’d finally get to kiss him, he goes to bite down on your bottom lip. a moan slips out of your mouth which only spurs him on to bite down harder.

you could feel the devilish smirk on sukuna against your lip. his wet tongue cleans up the tiny drop of blood that escaped the wound. he lets out a low hum in approval at the taste. delicious as always.

“now, how should i punish my little concubine for being unable to keep her word?” sukuna whispers in a serious tone. it sends shivers down your spine, his hot breath traveling from your jaw to your right ear. he slowly licks your earlobe, “what do you say? any ideas?”

the tension in the room was palpable. your heart was stammering in your throat from the proximity between the two of you. you gather the courage to answer as sukuna’s fingers curl around your neck, squeezing your throat as if forcing the answer out of you.

“i-i’ll do anything, sir.” you reply through a shaky breath. the king of curses pulls back after he’s got a response from you. your eyes meet his and that’s when you know that you’ve either greatly pleased him or have given him the chance to go all out on you.

it’s probably both.

“anything, you say?” sukuna repeats slowly. without a warning, he effortlessly flips you over on your stomach, a set of hands pulling your ass up by your hips whilst the other set holds your upper body down on the mattress.

a harsh grip on the back of your head results into you whimpering. your face was mushed into a pillow, almost leaving no place to breathe. your back is placed in the perfect arch with your plump ass facing up. it’s one of sukuna��s favourite positions to do with you — especially because it makes you seem smaller than you already are.

“heh. i’ll make you regret saying that.” sukuna chuckles. a low, evil and wicked chuckle. that’s enough to make you realise that he was not going easy on you. your submission had greatly impressed the king of curses and he's taking advantage of it. again.

what would come next could be a reward for that said submission. he’s going to fuck your brains out and make you forget about everything else except for his dick. a night you won’t ever forget as long as you live—that’s a possibility.

or perhaps you’re going to be crying and begging him to go easy on you. a punishment for not being able to keep your promise. that could also happen.

anyway, you’re about to find out which one it is.

[thinkinonsense]

FANTASIZE❦

old!logan howlett x fem!reader

*mdni

cw: cursing, nsfw, age gap (reader is twenty-five)

wc: 1k+

a/n: i have no idea where this came from. i was supposed to be working on something completely different but apparently, this needed to be written first instead. yes it is inspired by the unreleased ariana grande song.

⊱ ─── ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ ─── ⊰

Logan couldn't read minds. He never longed for the ability or power; he was better off not knowing what others had going on in their heads. He only wanted to peek into someone's mind when he caught your twinkling eyes lingering in his direction. Luckily, he could still read your mind even without the mutation because your fantasies were written all over your face.

It was obvious to anyone caught in the same room as you and Logan, that there was tension. You burned holes all over his body with your intense gaze. If Logan was in the mood to entertain your little crush, he could compliment you in a way that was sure to make you blush.

"Good form today, kid."

"Lookin' pretty today, sweetheart."

"Lemme fix that lipstick, dollface." That one left you with an ache in between your thighs as his thumb brushed your lower lip. "Can't have you walkin' around here a mess, now can we?"

Logan wasn't sure if he would ever make it to heaven but seeing your lip tremble with need was close enough for him.

If he saw you in a dress with a pair of mary-jane's, he would try to catch a glimpse of your underwear in the reflection of your shoes. It didn't always work but it made him feel young again.

No one was brave enough to address it due to him being twice your age. Despite being twenty-five years old and already having graduated from the school, it was still considered taboo to some. If anyone asked Logan about it, he would brush it off as a schoolgirl crush that you would eventually grow out of.

It was truly harmless he thought. You got the attention you craved and Logan got to see a pretty young woman squirm in her seat because of him. It never went further than flirtatious comments and lingering stares.

❦

Today might be the worst day of your life. You and Logan were being sent out together on a mission to find a mutant that lived two hours away. It wasn't the mission that worried you; it was being stuck in a tiny car with only Logan for one hundred and twenty minutes.

"Why aren't 'cha talkin', dollface?" Logan asked, almost teasingly.

For almost twenty minutes, he was aware of your eyes watching his hand hold the wheel. Logan was also incredibly aware of the effect it had on you. A little broken sigh escapes you when his hand clenches tighter around the leather, making his veins pop even more.

"Too busy fantasizing 'bout me?"

No matter how much you tried to find someone your age to be with, your heart always went back to Logan. He treated you differently than anyone you've ever met. Sure, sometimes he made you feel like a kid but he also knew you could handle your own. Logan wouldn't let anyone underestimate you; that kept you crawling back to him.

"Maybe I am." You shrug, fed up with his games.

"Oh, yeah?" He says, taking a deep inhale of your sent. "What's goin' on in that pretty head of yours, hm?"

You were used to Logan's overly confident personality that he tried to use to intimidate you; and make you stumble over your words. It wasn't gonna work this time. Logan wanted you just as much as you wanted him, but you needed him to admit it first.

"Us in the backseat of the car." You admit, biting the inside of your cheek nervous for his response.

"Really? And what are we doing back there?" He asked, cocking his head curiously as his eyes remained glued to the road.

"You're on top of me, makin' me feel good." Your words were coy but that was the point. Logan liked being the tease; having all the power.

"Keep talkin', dollface."

There it was. You had him right where you wanted him.

You pretended to think about it for a moment before shaking your head and telling him, "No, I shouldn't"

"Why not?"

"Because an old man like yourself can't keep up with me, right? At least that's what I heard you tell the Professor."

Logan couldn't believe you had heard their conversation earlier this week. The Professor was the only person who knew the truth of how Logan felt towards you. When Charles asked him what was stopping him from pursuing you, all Logan had to say was, "I'm too old for her; can't keep up with such a young thing like her".

Which was far from the truth.

"So obsessed with me that you're listenin' to my conversations now?" He growled, pulling the car over.

"Stop acting like you aren't obsessed with me too." You smile at him. "I know a few pairs of my underwear 'mysteriously' disappear from my hamper. I know that you can hear me through the walls late at night, panting your name."

With each sentence, you inch closer to him. Logan could only compare you to the snake in Eve's garden; encouraging him to give into his temptations.

"I also know that you want me." Your eyes were dark with desire, making his pants tighter. "So, if you can't get it up or claim that you don't want me then that's fine with-"

Logan fumed with irritation and lust. Not thinking twice before slamming your lips into yours. He tasted exactly like you imagine; tobacco and mint. You were addicted; no one could ever compare to him.

In a rush, his rough hands pulled you into his inviting lap before one cupped your jaw and his other made its way up your skirt, toying with your lacy underwear. He wasn't going to give it to you that easily.

"L-Logan, please," You moan against his mouth, trying to create some friction on his lap. "Need it."

God, he's waited a long time to hear that; to see you so desperate in his arms. When he pulled back to look at you, Logan couldn't be more pleased with the image in front of him. Your eyes shut tightly, face scrunched, trying to concentrate, and lips pouty with annoyance. Logan removes his hand under your skirt; causing the prettiest whine to escape you. He thought you might be what finally kills him.

"We aren't done, sweetheart." He groaned in your ear. "Get in the backseat because you are gonna tell me every single one of your fuckin' fantasies."

[lovegasmic]

 BEST FRIENDS WHO FUCK  P.2 !

ᯓ★ mdni. bff Satoru + f!reader. continuation of this post and part two of what started the whole best friend Satoru au, unprotected sex, satoru is still oblivious. 1.2k

BFF SATORU MASTERLIST — heavily recommend you to read “jealous, jealous” which is basically a continuation of this.

another day, another breakup, another hangout with Satoru rambling your ear off about his newest ex.

“I am a good boyfriend!” you knew damn well, your best friend was always over the top when gifting something to his girlfriend’s, or planning beautiful and expensive dates, you still didn’t understand why they always broke up with him.

it truly was not your fault.

sure, you and Satoru had your usual hangout nights with movies and snacks included, staying up late and chatting about whatever came into your minds first, but you always respected his girlfriends, keeping respectful distance without ruining your friendship either.

so of course, casual sex was also out of the way.

after that one night where he suggested you two should sleep together, you and Satoru kept fucking, and what you thought was a one time mistake happened twice, thrice, and multiple times after that, under the disguise of hanging out, which ended with Satoru’s balls nestled against your soft ass or his face buried in your cunt.

but no one could blame you, Gojo Satoru fucked like as if he was possessed.

just waiting for when he came to your place and fucked your brains out, mushing your face against the damp pillowcase while his cock plunged your insides, dragging out each drop and strand of sweet slick to stick to your trembling thighs, he liked it messy, you came to realize.

but everything stopped each time he got a new girl, he wasn’t a cheater and you weren’t a bitch. sleeping with someone taken was the last thing you’d do. so of course, hours after a breakup count as your best friend not being taken anymore.

the first time was a surprise, Satoru suddenly arrived at your place with a pout and puppy eyes, one that you weren’t sure was real or fake, “she broke up with me”

“again?” you think, but instead voice a “what happened?”

he sighs, walking into your cozy living room as if he owned the place, just to plop down on the couch, feet dangling off the side and staring at the ceiling through rounded pitch black sunglasses, “said I didn’t give her enough attention”

‘odd’ is what you think, considering Satoru is one of the clingiest and most attentive people you’ve ever met, “not true” you sit on the small coffee table right next to the white haired, “are you sure it wasn’t an excuse?”

another sigh comes out of him, and you start to think you should count and tease him about it later, “i don’t know… she said many things, that my mind is everywhere and I am not focused on her enough…” a hint of something else flashes on Satoru’s eyes.

“...and…?”

his eyes drift through the ceiling for a second, as if nervous but is quickly replaced by a casual shrug, “that’s all”

this time you sigh, scratching your cheek and reaching for the bowl settled on the table next to you, picking one of the candies that Satoru himself bought and left at your apartment and tossing it to him.

his eyes sparkling almost immediately, like a child on Christmas Eve, “i love you!” he smiles and pops the candy in his mouth, the girl long forgotten.

a huff of a laugh comes out of your mouth with a shake of your head, eyeing your best friend with a soft smile, one that’s returned when he flips and lays on his side, eyes on you, “hey…”

“yeah?”

“can you give me a hug?”

a simple and innocent request you quickly comply, laying down face to face with Satoru’s hands quickly wrapping around your waist, face in the crook of your neck, “hmm, you smell good… new shampoo?”

you hum in return, cozy and warm between your friend’s broad arms and chest.

“it’s nice…” he murmurs, a bit… lower, huskier even, sniffling against your neck as if trying to memorize your smell. you don’t give it a second thought, Satoru always had strange tendencies, but it’s the soft brush of his lips that make your eyes snap open.

“what are you doing?”

it takes him a bit to answer, perhaps thinking of a proper response, perhaps just lost in your warmth, essence and taste, “i missed you” and the lingering touch on your thigh was enough to let you understand what kind of ‘missing’ Satoru’s feeling was.

comforting your best friend by moaning his name, drenched in sweat and taking his bare cock into the deepest spots of your pussy was not what you expected, yet it happened.

over and over again.

“i even bought her a necklace!” through deaf ears is where his words go, it wasn’t as if he minded whether you paid attention or not, for some reason your babbled, ‘mhm’ ‘that’s sad’ or ‘her loss’ were enough for him.

“i don’t know what, ah, fuck…! i’m… doing wrong” he groans, the sound as loud as the messy squelching of your pussy sucking the fat girth of his cock down to the hilt, each push, each kiss of his tip into your g-spot making your toes curl.

“it’s not as if I… u-ungh… spoke… too much about y— ah, fuck, so close”

what was he even trying to say? “m’ close too”

“yeah? can I come inside?”

the first sentence you actually pay attention to “fuck no!”

“why not— ugh, shit! you've… let me do that before”

“that’s the only, ngh… way to make you stop crying!”

“rude!” Satoru hisses, yet complies to your wishes by pulling out almost at the last minute, spurting thick ropes of cum that land on your chin.

yet there were other times when you were too fucked silly too understand his words, and for once, he didn’t spoke about any of his exes either, starting with a few whines and complains, but slowing down until Satoru turns into an animal, dicking you down against the mattress, pistoning his hips hard against your cunt for the sound of skin slapping to echo, mingling with your squeaks and desperate screams of his name, “S-ato-ruu” you choke on your own saliva, eyes crossed and heels of your feet weakly digging into the back of his thighs, not to mention the red marks on the soft and milky expanse of his back that your nails create.

“that’s my good fuckin’ girl” each word accentuated by a thrust that pushes you up on the bed, his pace animalistic, rough and primal, as if trying to mold your insides to the shape of his cock, “you were made for me, baby, made to take my cock”

eyeglasses long forgotten, blue eyes taking in the whole sight of you, from your pretty fucked out expression, to the way your skin glistens with sweat and to how your creamy cunt gushes around his length, “fuckin’ gorgeous” leaving him all needy with how his erection glistens and holds a white ring of cream down the base, he’s really fucking you that good.

almost as fucked as you are is he, although differently, brain a fuzzy mess of pleasure, of desire to keep you like this forever, to bully his fat cock into your pussy every single day, almost possessive.

almost in love…

he loves you, “i love you” it’s a blurred mess that comes out of his mouth, with his fingers gripping your jaw, yet you’re too dumb right now to even hear him.

it must be a side effect of mind-blowing sex, because there's no way you’re the reason his relationships don’t last… but what if...

yet all thoughts that threaten to pull him out of this surreal experience are drowned by the sound of your whimpers, of your cries and the way you so beautifully moan his name as you cum.

and in the end, Satoru doesn’t even remember what he was thinking about a second ago.

[k-hotchoisan]

active recovery

<yunho x fem!reader>

sore thighs suck after leg day. thank god Yunho is there to offer his help to ease the soreness 🤍

genre/warnings: pwp, smut, contributing to the big cock!yunho agenda, leg day aftermath (soreness), it starts from an attempted massage and… yeah, size kink, unprotected sex, overstimulation, mating press position, breeding, fingering

a/n: haven’t written Yunho in a hot minute + my attempt of distracting myself from my leg soreness from leg day 😒

wc: 1.8K / apply for taglist here 🤍

You wake up and you feel like lightning struck your legs, especially your inner thighs. You groan, feeling the soreness shoot up your muscles every time you move.

And to think you didn’t do enough squats the previous day. Your legs tremble slightly too even though you try to minimise any movement to the best of your ability.

Your hand combs through your messy bed in search of your phone. You find it and immediately scroll to your chats, tapping on the first one with Yunho’s name on it. 

[you]: I’m tapping out on gym today. My legs are fuckin toast. 

[yuyu🐶]: sounds like a skill issue. 

[yuyu🐶]: I’m joking please don’t block me. 

[yuyu🐶]: I’m coming over with food and some help ok?

You manage to muster the strength to leave your bed to wash up at least, forcing yourself to get used to the electricity running through your legs. 

The doorbell rings shortly and despite the jerks your legs were giving you on the way there, you manage to reach to the door to invite Yunho in, who has his hands busy with food like he promised. 

He sets up the table and he ensures you’ve eaten well before the both of you go to your bedroom to hear what he’s suggesting. 

“Which part of your leg is sore?” He asks, kneeling before you, giving your legs soft squeezes. You flinch and squeal when his fingers press against your thighs. Guess he’s got his answer. 

“Lie down for me. I’ll stretch you out”, Yunho instructs, and you do. 

Yunho starts with a slow massage, kneading against your sore muscles, ignoring your soft whimpers when his fingers press against a sore spot. It’s kind of working, but you still feel the sensitivity bursting through your nerves, and it makes you involuntarily twitch against Yunho’s touches. 

You groan when Yunho applies pressure on your thighs. He pushes your legs towards you, and he leans in. You try to ignore the suggestive position of Yunho’s crotch just pressing against yours while he’s stretching out your thigh, focusing on hoping to relieve any ounce of soreness at least.

Unfortunately, your soft groans aren’t helping with the situation. Try as Yunho might, ignoring you only seems to have your moans go straight to his dick. 

“Y/n, as much as I adore your voice, I’d appreciate it if you kept it to a minimum. It’s distracting.”

“I can’t help it if I’m this sensitive”, you pout, not realising you ticked something in him. “And also your reactions are cute with your ears all red like that.” 

Yunho narrows his eyes, ignoring your words , and instead focusing on trying to finish your massage. When he’s done with one side, he switches to the other, doing the same action of folding your legs against your chest, his thighs getting dangerously close to your pussy once more. Your thoughts are starting to float to a less pure space.

You know you shouldn’t be doing this. You and Yunho are just simply gym buddies—well, gym buddies who have some sort of funny tension going on recently. And now that he’s just this physically close to you—touching, pressing, stretching you, you can’t seem to get your mind out of the gutter.

It wasn’t until Yunho’s palm spread over your thighs once more, massaging against your thick flesh that you let out another sudden moan at the pressure, that Yunho seems to hit his limit. It’s enough that he’s holding back considering that his hands are getting dangerously close up further your thighs, the way he had himself pressed against you at a rather interesting position, but you, moaning at every touch he’s applying onto you? He can only hold back so much.

“Sorry Yun. It’s just… it feels so good when you do it like that.”

Then, Yunho has you under him, he towers over you on your bed. 

“They say active recovery is good for soreness. Lucky for you, I know a pretty good form of active recovery. Your thighs are gonna be doing a lot more stretching though.”

You swallow hard, wondering if you should take on what he’s trying to allude. Seems like you pressed a little too much of his buttons. Oops. Not that you wanted to complain though.

In the most twisted ways, you always wondered how Yunho would compare—his build wasn’t large, but he’s still big. His hands are big—and he makes carrying dumbbells look like toys. You always wondered where else would be big.

And now, you’re about to find out.

“Now, keep your legs open like this for me”, he instructs. Your bottoms are peeled off you in seconds, and you have your legs spread open. Yunho’s fingers pry your lips open to get his pretty fingers wet enough, then he trails down your wet cunt, circling your clit slowly.  

“You gotta relax for me, baby”, he coaxes you in a tone that’s sending you butterflies in your stomach. “If you can’t take my fingers, my cock is gonna snap in you, y’know?”

That’s all the warning he gives before his slender fingers plunge into your wet heat, and your brain completely melts at the feeling. 

“Good girl”, he comforts. His other hand is gently rubbing and massaging against your thigh once more, ramping up the sensitivity before he trails down to accompany his other hand, fully rubbing circles on your clit. 

Your back is arched from how much Yunho is pressing against your g-spot on top of stimulating your clit. It’s making your toes curl and your mind go blank. 

“Gonna cum Yun,” you mutter through heavy breaths. Yunho is kissing up your neck to your jaw before his lips are on yours, the movements of his fingers encouraging you to release all over them.

“Cum for me, baby. It’ll feel so good, I promise”,  Yunho whispers into your ear, snapping the knot in your stomach. 

He eats up your moans with his kisses, taking advantage of your mouth when your orgasm rakes through your whole body leaves your eyes rolled back and your mouth hanging open. 

Yunho’s cock is soaked and hard underneath his shorts—it’s throbbing and pushing against the fabric of his apparel. So when you’re getting off your high, he has his pants off quickly too. His cock is thick and heavy, covered in precum, looking like the perfect thing to fill you up with.

His wet cock rests on your equally wet cunt, and Yunho strokes himself against your drenched folds, making sure his tip brushes against your clit every time. 

“Yunho, please”, you mutter, your pussy fluttering against nothing, aching for Yunho to just fuck you. 

“Not too sore to take my dick right?” Yunho teases, his gaze darting between your desperate eyes and the way cream from your pussy is decorating his big cock. 

“I’m gonna be stretching you in more ways than one, babe. Be a good girl and take it for me, yeah?”, he smiles. 

For some strange reason, you don’t feel the soreness in your inner thighs, or maybe you’re just so horny that it’s not the soreness that’s your main concern now. 

You bite your lip, then your mind completely coming undone when you feel Yunho push his cockhead into your pussy, stretching your hole open as he accommodates his thick cock in you. 

“Fuck. Look at your tight pussy trying to fit all of me in. I should fill you in for size training after our next sessions. Extra stretching sessions shouldn’t be much of a problem, right baby?” 

Maybe you should take up on that offer. 

The thought of Yunho fitting his fat cock to stretch you open just so your tight pussy can mold to his cock size after your gym sessions sounded way too fucking tempting, especially in your current predicament. You’re imagining the way he would coax your pussy to take more inches of him, and the thought of doing it right after your training sessions—being pumped full of endorphins and just Yunho’s fat cock—your pussy is just dripping and taking more of his cock by the second. Way too fucking enticing.

“Mm. That’s it, baby. Fit me in like this, yeah?” Yunho sighs when his cock finally bottoms out in you, your walls hugging him like a glove. 

You gasp at the fullness. His cockhead is pressing against your g-spot but you feel it in your fucking throat, and any small twitches his cock is making in you is a contender to make you cum any second. 

Your fingers grab onto his tensed biceps to give yourself some leverage, and Yunho is kind enough to wait for you to adjust, or maybe because he feels like he’s about to cum any second from the way your pussy is just squeezing him. 

“Jeong Yunho”, you pant, trying to catch your breath. “You’re so fucking big. Fuck. Oh my fucking god, I feel so full.”

He chuckles, rubbing slow circles from your inner thighs and clit. “All the more we should train for that.”

Yunho and his fat cock are gonna be the death of you. You didn’t even need leg day to do it for you. 

“God, Yunho, just fuck me already.”

“Gladly.” 

Your head is thrown back the moment his cock pulls out of you and thrusts back into you. You’re not gonna survive this, you swear. 

The moans slipping out of you grow louder and more lewd, and Yunho is gradually losing the ability to hold back when he hears his name in your high-pitched symphony paired with the way your pussy is just creaming all over him. He watches the way his cock pushes a bulge whenever he slides into you and it’s taking him everything to not to just rearrange your guts.

The pressure soon wears off, only pleasure flooding through your veins when Yunho fucks the daylights out of you. And now you’re growing greedy. 

So is Yunho. 

“You’re driving me crazy, baby”, Yunho is growing breathless whenever he feels your cunt sucking him in. “Keep doing that and I’ll guarantee you’re not walking straight tomorrow.”

“Sounds like a plan, Yuyu. Then you can come over to take responsibility, right?”

Yunho groans. God he fucking loves it when you’re like this for him. 

So he responds by grabbing you by your thighs and lifting your hips slightly to make sure his cock fills you up all the way. His eyebrows are furrowed in pleasure, mouth slightly open as he listens to your voice climbing up in pitch at every thrust he gives you. 

“So good. Ah fuck. You’re so fucking thick”, you cry through your fucked out delirium. 

Yunho bites his lip, his thrusts growing more desperate and erratic with his cock just twitching for his release. 

He settles your legs down, only to fold them so that your knees are almost pressing against your chest, making sure you fucking see stars while his cock fills you up over and over in that position, hitting your g-spot so fucking easily. You’re choking on your moans at this point, your orgasm just being dangled over your head. 

“Fuck, right there! Gonna cum, Yunho. Oh god, that’s it”, you sob, your orgasm hitting you through shots of dopamine filling up your brain and flooding all over your cunt, pulsing against Yunho’s dick. 

Yunho has his eyes rolled back when you’re squeezing uncontrollably against him, deciding to fuck you through your orgasm, listening to your cries like it’s his favourite sound for the rest of the day. 

“Shit, I don’t think I could ever get enough of this pussy”, he mutters through pants. “So fucking perfect to cum in.”

Yunho squeezes your legs as he stills in you, making sure every drop of his thick cum is filling your pussy to the brim. 

He jerks slightly before pulling out, still holding your legs open for him to watch his cum seep out of your pussy and onto the towel below. You squeal when you feel his long fingers push his cum back into your pussy. Yunho is never telling you, but it’s his silent way of putting his mark on you. 

He soothes your thighs a little more even though he’s still finger fucking his cum back into you while kissing and biting the soft flesh of your thighs. ignoring your cries of overstimulation, before he closes your legs to lie them down. 

“See, this is a form of active recovery too”, Yunho says matter-of-factly, looking up at you with a pretty deceptive smile with his head on your lap. You narrow your eyes, grabbing him by his scalp. 

“I’m gonna blow your phone up tomorrow if I can’t feel my legs, Jeong Yunho.” 

Yunho continues to smile, his fingers easily removing yours from his head. 

“I guess that’s a yes to the extra training sessions then?” 

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