ughlantsov

[ughlantsov]

on january 18th 2024 an old alcoholic cat opened his mouth and said “so things look bad-“ to a pornstar spider and i have never been the same since.

[ughlantsov]

ok but Matt Murdock is so funny bec he’s like ‘i would never judge anyone ever’ and then proceeds to be the most judgemental bitch ever

[ughlantsov]

for me, the heart of monkey man was its immense love for india, and the confidence of articulating that love through representation and criticism—the things that make india beautiful are not the colorist, hindu-nationalist propoganda stories of bollywood but largeness of the diaspora: indians who trans, who are muslim, who have been oppressed by their government, who are unacknowledged by society, etc—and prevail despite the odds stacked against them. they are encouraged to be themselves and fight against these occupational forces.

major props to dev patel for showing that hey, you actually can make a movie about indians in a way that perfectly encapsulates the various cultures, mythologies, AND egregious political climate, while also highlighting indian people and giving them the recognition and respect they often don't recieve in western—OR bollywood—canon. now that we know it's possible (it always was) i want more! thanks!

(also it helped that he was either in a suit, shirtless, or covered in blood [sometimes two at a time] for most of this movie. dev patel, i literally only need one chance...)

[ughlantsov]

Teeth

Part 21

Masterlist

Werepanther!Billy Russo x Female Reader

Warnings: Full moon insanity, angst, mentions of stalking, oral (f), consensual, rough, unprotected sex.

Hard shout out to @idaofinfinity and @ittybxttykxttytxtty for helping me so much through wanting/ not wanting to write. I push myself too hard, I know, and I am forever grateful that you both encourage me to take breaks. I hope this rocks your socks off.

It’s stuck in his head.

The way you looked when he told you he was leaving.

The pain in your voice, the smell of your despair in the air.

There was no one more sorry than Billy Russo right now.

He sits in the isolation room of his design, his head resting against the concrete wall, the panther whining like a pained animal inside his mind, agonising over the way he hurt you, begging him to go back to you and make things right.

He closes his eyes.

He hadn’t meant to do it like that, so suddenly, he was going to ease you into it, tell you he’d gotten a work call, that he may have to respond, and then apologetically depart a while later, hoping to free you of some of the pain.

Instead, he’d blurted it out in the same moment that you’d finally admitted to him that you were ready.

To be fair, that very admittance had been the catalyst that had shoved him into an early spiral, the beast inside of him had started roaring in his mind, he’d almost lost control right in front of you.

He'd done it to protect you, that’s the only thing that puts him at ease. The possibilities of what could have happened if he were to remain in your presence worried him. The first time you'd been together, he'd bruised your wrist, there was no telling what he might do accidentally with the full moon almost overhead.

He takes a deep breath in and he can smell you, your scent still lingers on him. He'll have to get rid of his clothes if he plans to stay sane in here.

The panther fights him, tries to force him to shift prematurely. He groans, his entire body aching as he tries to resist it. He falls onto his side, his teeth elongates, breathing shallow. 

He fights harder, tries to manage his breathing like Frank taught him all those years ago. He hates the way he doesn't have control the way other shifters do, that his past still affects him, even now.

He'll never be free of it, he worries he'll have to hide from you on every full moon to protect you from the beast inside of him, he'll always have to look over his shoulder, too afraid to lose control, too scared to give in to himself.

At least he can let go here, far enough away where he can't hurt you, or scare you with his bloodlust. 

One of the bones in his shoulder bends. He grunts, takes a deep breath, waiting for the impending break to happen, his body trying to reshape him before he's ready.

It's the fight that makes it more painful, if he was compliant in his loss of control, the shift would hurt less. The pain helps though, keeps him human. He feels the burn of sweat as it drips into his eye.

After a few agonizing moments, the wave subsides, and he can sit up once more, leaning against the wall. 

There are two screens across from him, built into the wall to protect it, one shows the live security footage surrounding the abandoned building he was in, near the outskirts of the city, the other shows the security footage of his home.

He's got a couple of cameras on the surroundings, but there's one in particular he watches, the only one inside of his house. It sits in the corner of his kitchen, overlooking the main hallways, and just in the corner he can see his living room as well.

He did warn you about the camera before he left, advised that he might check in from time to time. He wonders if that was your motivation for sitting at his kitchen counter and working right now.

He takes a deep breath, relaxes, watches the way you look while you work.

It sort of calms him, to see you, there’s just something so peaceful about you and the way you move. He wants to lie beside you and watch you, he yearns for those small moments where you're deep in your own thoughts.

Outside, he hears the soft drops of rain beginning to fall, like static, it fills the room, helps him focus his thoughts.

Now more than ever, he thinks about his dreams of lying next to you, something in his chest unknots, the idea of eternal peace at your side eases him into a shallow sleep.

.

The first night after Billy left was the worst.

It wasn't the silence, so much as the lack of his presence in the house. It's like you could feel his absence, as if something warm in the room had disappeared, leaving your very insides frigid. 

You'd tossed and turned in your own room, struggling with feeling too hot or too uncomfortable, fighting hard to succumb to your exhaustion, but nothing would let you. 

You’d drank tea to calm yourself, quiet music to soothe your mind, you’d even tried an audiobook that you’d listened to a thousand times because the voice actor had a particularly soothing voice.

Nothing.

There was always something wrong.

After a few hours of frustration, you'd sat up, pushed your sheets off, and stepped softly into the hallway.

You'd approached his room slowly, not out of fear, but with curiosity, wondering what his room would look and feel like when he wasn’t here to fill the space. Pushing his door open, you'd felt something so different overcome you.

It had been so much cozier in his room, the warmth you'd been searching for had cocooned you the minute you'd taken a seat on his bed. The sheets were soft on your legs, you couldn't resist lying down.

You could smell him, his earthy scent with just a touch of citrus and when you'd closed your eyes, you swear he was still here, right around the corner, out of reach, but still present.

It leaves an excited twist in your stomach, that you can curl up in his bed, grip the pillows he sleeps on, breathe him in.

It makes falling asleep so easy, that you could never understand what the problem was in the first place.

While getting ready for work the next day, you push open his closet door, searching for something of his that you can wear, to have him close. 

You grab one of his blazers, finding a way to match the aesthetic so that it looks like it belongs to you.

It’s a little big on you, welcoming still, and you steal a scarf as well to battle the chill outdoors.

At work, you feel a thrill at wearing his items, delight in the fact that no one knows you wear his things and you sleep in his bed.

Work is monotonous without him though, every little spare minute you have makes you want to amble up to his office excitedly, only for your thoughts to stop in their tracks at the reminder that he won’t be there.

Dinah even checks on you at lunch, and while you’re happy to see her, her responses are clipped and perhaps a little more frigid than usual. You wonder if it’s because of his absence, if the only reason she bothered to put up with you was because of him. 

You try not to overthink that. Maybe it was something as simple as her own job being frustrating.

She takes off shortly after checking in, leaving you alone with only your thoughts to keep you company.

It’s a big difference from life with him to life without him, the only thing keeping you intact is that there’s only one more day and then hopefully he’ll be back with you again.

At the end of the day, you smile politely at Sergei as he holds the door of the car open for you. Outside is freezing, and you’re glad to be in the warm vehicle, shedding your jacket and scarf as the heat soaks into your body.

The moon is full, and so effortlessly beautiful tonight, you can’t help smiling up at it, wondering if the myth about shapeshifters and full moons were true.

You marvel quietly at the realisation that you knew shapeshifters existed, and yet you managed to not tell a soul. You raise your hands, fingers tracing the panther hanging around your neck, hoping that wherever he was, that he was okay.

.

The back of his head hits the wall, sweat cascading down his neck as he pants.

All he can hear is his own rapid exchange of breath, and the sound of his fingers clawing at the concrete below him.

He grunts, pressing his teeth together as another wave of pain hits, his vision going dark, one of his ribs snap and he flinches, hunching forward.

It was almost time, the moon only hours away from its peak, he feels saliva drip from his mouth as his teeth grow too large for his mouth to remain closed.

The soft rain from before falls more intensely now, he imagines what it would feel like on his skin, uses the thought to steady himself. He’s been fighting the shift all day, but soon he’ll be able to give in, soon, the panther and him will become one.

Something on the monitor catches his eye. Someone moving through the downpour outside of the building. He can’t see their face, can barely make out the figure with the way his vision swims.

The cameras follow the motion, he watches something be left at the front door of the building.

He struggles to a stand, reaching for his phone hidden behind the monitor, uses his thumbprint to unlock the large iron door keeping him in the basement.

He tries to be quick, but his struggle with the panther slows him down, by the time he makes it to the front door, any trace of the stranger is gone.

He suspects it may be the stalker, but he can’t risk the chase right now, reaching to pick up the item left behind, a small lightweight box.

He gives it a hefty shake, hears the sound of fabric swishing.

He knows he shouldn’t be opening it, but instinct has taken over, he doesn’t smell anything dangerous, but opening a potentially dangerous package is still risky.

He blinks in confusion when he finds one of his scarves folded neatly in the box. Eyebrows drawn together, he pulls the scarf out, he can smell his own scent on it, and something else that drives him to bring the material up to his nose for a deep breath.

His eyes roll back in his head when he catches the pure scent of you, and when he finally breathes in your sweet pheromones, he finally realises the danger you’re in.

He scrambles back into the basement, tripping, the panther fighting him with full force. He initiates maximum lockdown and throws his body as far away from the door as possible. 

You’re ovulating, he can smell it on the scarf, and the timelines make sense. He shakes his head, clenches his fist as the clawing inside of his mind grows frantic.

The beast inside of him wants you. Now. It fights to go to you, to find you, wherever your sweet body hides. He wants you, to drink you greedily down until he’s satisfied.

He’s your biggest threat now.

He hits the wall, again and again, fighting something intangible with every bit of himself.

The scarf is at his feet, he doesn’t remember bringing it in, but it barely matters now, he reaches for it, brings it to his face again, before flinging it away.

The sound of his own heartbeat fills his ears, the sound of his breathing all accumulates into an overbearing din in his head. He tries to cover his ears but it doesn’t help. 

Everything is too loud, growing louder by the second, until it’s too much, until he can’t take it anymore.

Billy squeezes his eyes shut, and lets out a pure, unrestrained roar.

And then, everything quiets.

He straightens, takes a few calm breaths.

He finds his phone, typing in the four-digit pin, and answering the security question with ease despite his complete inability to think. When he’s done, his hand crushes it into fragments before dropping it to the floor.

He steps out of the room, the full moon above head, with only one destination in mind.

.

Your evening had been peaceful as you’d learned to appreciate being alone. You’d sipped on a warm mug of tea and sat in his sun room while the rain had poured all around you. 

It was calming, and when you’d closed your eyes, you’d imagined him behind you, tucked against you while the world moved around you. It was such a serene thought, it made you miss him so much more. You wanted that with him, and you could only hope that he would want that too.

The evening had been uneventful, you’d taken out your laptop and sat in his kitchen to get a little bit of work done, hoping that he would send you a message to tell you he was doing okay, but you know that was unlikely when he was this busy.

The rain had gotten progressively worse, and by the time you’d climbed into his bed, it was almost a full downpour.

You’re sleeping soundly in his bed when the sharp crack of thunder wakes you.

You wake with a gasp, vision hazy as you blink, another flash of lightning waking you up just a little more.

You sit up, rubbing one eye as you look around.

A large shadow looms in the corner of your eye and you gasp, turning to it, your heart jumping into your throat in fear.

The room is moderately lit, and you manage to discern Billy almost immediately, the panic in your body dissipating.

“Oh my fucking God, you scared the shit out of me.” You gasp, keeling over to rest your head against the pillow, trying to calm your racing heart.

He doesn’t say anything, and the next time you look up at him, he’s still in the same spot, staring at you. He looks a little damp, his hair slicked back and you figure he must have walked through the rain to get here.

It unsettles you a little, you tilt your head, examining his white t-shirt and joggers, noting that his beard has grown a little longer than when you last saw him.

When he tilts his head to mimic you, face stoic,  you gulp.

“Are you alright?” You ask, stomach flipping as he takes a slow stride toward you.

You study the serious expression on his face, wondering if he was angry at coming home to find you in his bed, even though he had offered it to you before he left. 

Maybe you’d overstayed?

“I can leave if you want.” You suggest sleepily, pulling back the sheets to begin climbing out of his bed.

“Stop.” He says, and his low voice, almost a grovel, sends tingles down your spine, though you’re unable to separate the excitement from that small seed of fright within you.

You watch him approach, and after a small second of thinking, you feel the need to voice your concerns over the intensity of his gaze.

“You’re scaring me a little.” You confess on a breath.

He blinks, and then stops moving.

“I’m sorry.” He finally says, taking a step back, “I- shouldn’t be here.”

For the first time, you finally see the Billy you’re used to.

“No, it’s okay.” You say quickly, climbing out of bed to take his hand in yours, his rough palm sending tingles up your arm.

“You just scared me a little, I wasn’t expecting you back, but you can sleep next to me, I don’t mind.” You tug him to the bed, but he pauses just before you can climb in.

You look back at him in confusion, and then your stomach flips when his other hand raises to cup the back of your neck. Though his touch is gentle, it warns of something untamed below, pulling you closer to him.

You blink slowly, as scattering sparks spread where he touches you, mouth parting at the feeling he gives you, so much need for him swells inside of you.

He pulls you against his chest, and you go easily, wrapping your arms around his torso to try making him feel more comfortable. Though his hands are cold, his chest is warm, reminding you of how badly you’ve been longing for him.

His arms wrap around you too. You feel his face press to the top of your head, hear him take a deep breath, before a low rumble leaves his chest.

“You smell good.” He says.

“Thanks?” You offer, unsure.

His hands move, reaching down to grip your hips, and then smooth over the small of your back. You suck in a deep breath to fight your own urges.

He kisses the top of your head softly, and then he’s cupping your jaw to tilt your face upward, eyes fluttering closed as his lips meet your forehead, then adjusting your head, to place another to your temple.

“You’re pretty.” He murmurs into your ear, before he kisses your cheek. 

“Thank you.” You breathe, more accepting to his compliments now,  eyes still closed as his lips roam over your cheek, growing closer and closer to your mouth.

When he gets close to your mouth, he pauses, making your chest grind with want.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks, a hit of teasing in his voice, as if you would deny him, as if you could. You smile softly, tilting your head up.

“Yes.” You say in a hushed tone, biting down hard on your lip to keep you oriented.

“Sure?” He baits, his mouth at the very corner of yours, his breath, featherlight on your skin, your desire like a pit in your throat that refuses to be swallowed.

“Why are you being so mean?” You whisper, as his lips grow closer, your eyes are barely open, but you still catch his devious smile.

He pushes at your shoulders, a shocked gasp of surprise leaving your lips as you feel your feet slip from under you. You fall backwards, his soft bed catching you easily.

Almost immediately, you sit up, looking up at him in disbelief, unaccustomed to such… ferity. 

He doesn’t let you speak, or even think, before he moves, cupping your face in his hands and slanting his mouth over yours.

An explosion goes off in your head, your hands gripping the sheets almost painfully, eyes squeezed shut, trying to press your lips even firmer to his. Everywhere he touches, burns with blistering sparks.

You’re so much more than eager, beyond desperate for this taste of him, one that you’ve been yearning for, from the very first moment you kissed him.

A sigh against his lips, reaching your hands up to cup the back of his head, pull him closer so that he doesn’t come to his senses and pull away. You feel like a piece of a puzzle, relieved to be slotted into the place you belong, somehow knowing without a doubt that he was that place.

He groans passionately against your lips before pressing forward, guiding you to shuffle back on his bed so that he can crawl atop you.

You stay like that, sharing feverish kisses with each other, a quiet challenge between you to even think about pulling away. 

His hands move down, tugging your nightdress up so that he can fit himself between your thighs, your clothed cunt coming right into contact with his straining erection.

It feels euphoric, the burn of needing him, separated by only a few layers of fabric. He groans into your mouth, hands reaching to secure your hips in place, taking the opportunity to grind his cock against you in return.

You gasp, more a hitch of your breath than anything else at the delicious contact, turning your head away to try catching your breath.

It’s not something he takes kindly to, his fingers wrapping around your throat in warning, his thumb against your jaw to guide your face back to his.

His eyes are dark, almost bottomless with the way you can see no light reflecting off of them. You don't have much time to look at him before his lips are on yours once more, something searing hot, desperate clawing at you.

Your moan is broken against his mouth, your stomach twisting as you realise you need so much more than what he’s giving you right now.

“Please.” You murmur into his mouth, hoping he understands you. You arch your back, offering your body to him.

A low grunt leaves his throat, and suddenly the top of your dress gets torn into two. 

Your breasts spill out, and he moves from your mouth to kiss at your neck. 

You whine, tilting your head to give him more access, tingles spreading over your skin at the way his mouth feels. Your hands roam his back and shoulders, feeling at his damp hair, a painful desire to explore every inch of him you can reach with the tips of your fingers.

“Billy.” You hum, and you hear him moan in response, his hand reaching to palm at your breast, your clit pulsing in retaliation.

You shudder when he plucks at your pebbled nipple gently, rolling your stiff peak between his expert fingers. Your skin tingles where he touches, sparks cascading over you.

A sharp sob leaves you, your legs wrapping tightly around his hips, the friction there is only enough to tease. Your brain begs for relief from the ache of wanting.

Your head falls back against the bed, too much pleasure searing your system to focus, his mouth working your body into a boneless mass, desperate for him.

You whine when his lips seal gently around your nipple, feeling a delicious tug inside of you, his other hand reaching for your untouched breast.

The breath leaves your body, head tossed back, feeling him, the way you yearned for him in the last few days.

The sound of your dress ripping further draws you out of the fog of desire clouding your head, you look down, realising that he’s torn your dress right down the middle.

You blink, a little confused at the strength he must have to tear through your dress without even hurting you in the process. 

You suck in a deep breath, feeling some thinking redirect from your cunt to your brain, looking up at him, watching the way he studies your exposed form.

He lets out a shaky breath, withdrawing from you a little.

“I think you should run.”

“Billy?” You say his name for an explanation.

“I’m not- myself, and the things I want to do to you-” He huffs, drawing away completely.

There’s a war going on inside of his head, you can tell by the look in his eye that his desire is getting the best of him.

It’s exactly how you want it.

“I'll run if you promise to chase me.”

He squeezes his eyes shut, shaking his head.

“That’s not what I mean.”

“I know what you meant.” You challenge, sitting up and climbing out of his bed, “Stop fighting yourself, and come take what’s yours.”

When you say your last words, you drop the tattered remains of your dress from your shoulders, watching his eyes refocus on you.

He stands too, large body looming over you, lightning flashes again, painting him in a sinister light for a few microseconds.

“You have no idea what I want to do to you.” He grunts, taking a step forward.

You take an equal step back, playfulness in your eyes.

“I think you want to chase me, and I think  I want to be chased.”

A primal sound leaves his throat just then, and your eyes widen in surprise. All you can interpret, is that it’s the pure sound of him letting go of his own resistance.

You take another step back, and then another, left only in your panties, you make it to the door of his bedroom before he begins to move.

Thunder cracks, somewhere in the distance, and you make it to his dark kitchen before he catches you.

His body is pressed firmly to your back as he wraps an arm around you.

“Telling you to run was a bad idea.” His hands reaches up to cup your breasts, you groan, tilting your head back as his broad hands explore you.

His voice drops to a whisper.

“It just made me want to catch you more.”

His hand grips your throat, tilting your head up so that he can kiss you.

It’s more passionate than before, mouth pressed hard to yours, tongue delving past your lips in an effort to devour.

His other hand slides over your stomach, all the way down until his slender fingers slip below the waistband of your panties.

You gasp when he touches you for the first time, careful fingers pressing in, no doubt feeling how wet you are.

He grunts, presses his mouth to your temple.

“You’re so wet for me sweetheart, is this what you wanted? Were you lying in my bed just waiting for me to find you?”

You can’t even speak, lips parted, eyes rolling back as he gently circles your aching bud.

Warm, all around you, his scent and his body, all of it filling your head with desperation.

His grip on your jaw tightens, and you peek your eyes open to look up at him.

“Answer me.”

“Missed you.”

He lets out a sharp breath, one that could be mistaken for frustration, if you didn’t know him, but you do, you can almost feel how hard he’s trying to hold on to his control.

He spins you, pressing you back until your behind bumps his kitchen counter, his eyes are so dark, and the only time you can see his face is when lightning strikes outside.

You don’t know what he’s going to do, but somehow, with the domineering way he looks, the last thing you expect is to watch him drop to his knees.

Eye level with your cunt, he leans in, closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

“So fucking good.” He says roughly, voice low as if he meant to say it to himself.

He reaches forward, grips each side and tears the soft material into pieces.

When you’re finally bare for him, he looks up, sinister clarity in his eyes, no control left to be seen.

“Ask me.” He commands.

You gulp, unprepared to speak among the desperation in your throat.

“P-please.” You breathe.

He keeps his eyes on you, shakes his head slowly as if you've said the wrong thing.

“Don’t shy away from me now. Ask.”

“Can you- please-” You close your eyes for a moment, trying to find the willpower, “-lick my cunt?”

He's silent for a while, and you have to peek your eyes open to see him.

He looks calm, a devious smile on his face as he nods.

“Anything you want, sweetheart.” He vocalises, before leaning forward to kiss your thigh.

His kisses are meaningful, trailing from mid thigh all the way up, his beard scratching along your skin slowly, forcing you to grip the edge of his counter to keep your balance.

After a moment, he grows impatient, hands wrapping around your hips to pick you up and seat you on the edge of the counter.

You gasp.

Holy fuck, how did he just do that?

You don't get any time to reflect on it before he's spreading your legs, wide, wider, shouldering his large body between your thighs as if he owns the space, kissing at the seam of your cunt gently, as if asking further permission.

You groan, the torment of having his mouth so close burns at you, and yet you can't find the strength to say something, or even move, only able to feel.

He kisses, and kisses, and when you're sure his lips must be sticky with your arousal, he parts his lips to glide his devilish tongue against you.

Though you’ve felt the expertise of his tongue before, the sensation still draws a gasp of surprise, the reminder of what this man is capable of, flooding your head. He grips your thighs, you can almost feel the ardour in his grip, before he pushes upward, forcing you to lie back on his countertop.

You go slowly, settling for resting on your elbows while you watch him slide your legs over his shoulders.

His dark hair between your thighs sparks an untamed flood of desire, going right through you, burying its need directly into your bones.

His tongue slips against your clit, the motion so smooth that your mouth drops open at the pleasure he so easily delivers. With purposeful pressure, he tastes you, drinks you down, something insatiable blooming in his eyes as he glances at you.

He delves into your cunt next, reaching for a pure taste, sighing through his nose, you watch his eyes blissfully close for a moment as his tongue dips into the most intimate parts of you.

He groans into your cunt, warm breath across your skin, and then all bets are off.

Your clit is given attention next, swipes of his tongue that make you almost dizzy with the pleasure of it, licking at you just right, steadily pulling you closer and closer to the idea of an orgasm.

There’s no pretence of teasing behind it, his tongue gives an expert display of what he’s capable of, gliding in circles around your bud, licking you softly ever so often to let you catch your breath.

Your skin tingles, the air in your body held in an almost stasis state within your throat, being exhaled only to be inhaled in the same moment. 

Your elbows begin to protest the hard counter, and you let yourself drop against the chilly surface, appreciating the sensation against your burning skin.

He buries his tongue within you again, groaning, and then you feel as he drags the appendage out and back to your clit.

He caresses you with every part of his tongue, from the very tip making gentle flicks to the flat of it, that rolls evenly over you. Pleasure burns inside of you, building up, your body tensed and trembling slightly, silently begging him not to stop.

You whine, reaching down, in hopes that he’ll take your hand, and he does so easily, fingers interlocked, squeezing, desperate to come.

Ravenous now, the pace of his tongue increases to a near frenzy, outside, the rain matches his mindset.

Little sounds of desperation leave you, whimpers as he brings you close to your peak with just his tongue, doesn’t stop, doesn’t slow, he centres your whole world around his mouth in these moments, whether he intends to or not.

It’s gradual, it’s euphoric, you feel yourself so close to the precipice, with nothing but him on your mind.

You say his name, an appreciation of him, and all that he’s capable of.

Thighs trembling involuntarily, you raise your head to look down at him, your hand squeezing his tight, pleasure building, and building, a rubber band, pulled tight, about to be snapped.

You find his eyes on you, half-lidded, The appearance of calm, but somehow all you can see is a predator eager to devour.

It's that very look in his eye that tips you over the edge, falling back with a cry as you shatter against his dexterous tongue. You forget how to breathe as hot sparks of spread in your veins, burning, decimating your very ability to think. Your thighs tremble, chest heaving and you can feel the vibration of your heart as muted waves of bliss crash through you.

He licks you softly as you come, prolonging your orgasm, ensuring that every ounce of thought is wrung from your head with just his mouth.

When you've given him your final shiver, and you rest sated on his counter, does he finally lift himself up from between your messy thighs.

Lighting strikes when you meet his eyes, something odd about the way he's looking at you, that makes you feel like if you try to run, he would not be kind about catching you.

That is, if you could run, but your limbs are jelly at the moment, and all you can do when you meet his eyes is give him a look of adoration.

.

Control, is a distant memory, fading ever further with each minute in your presence.

Billy has only one trick left, and he’s not sure how long it’s going to last.

He watches you struggle to sit up, thighs still parted for him, and he can see your cunt, dripping hot arousal onto his kitchen counter.

His vision blurs, the panther trying to force him to grab at you, roll you over and mount you like an untamed beast. 

More ferarum, an old saying, the belief that though he may be human, and have a mostly human composition, his base desires was designed to be acted in the manner of beasts. 

To mount you like one, to fuck you like one, there’s millenia old genetics gripping his disposition by the neck and demanding he do what he was made to do.

And his solution? The answer to his problems, is the very thing driving him to insanity.

You.

Because when the beast inside of him demands your body, he presses his nose to your hair and takes a breath. When the beast demands to bite you while he takes you, he drops to his knees and tastes your cunt. 

And now, when the beast is demanding to rut into you like an animal, he takes a deep breath and looks into your eyes. 

How sweet they are, eager for him, willing to be devoured, and he knows you have no real idea of what you’re asking for.

He leans in, watching you struggle to move your body into a sitting position, and when you’re close enough, he grips your cheek and pulls you in for a kiss.

Heaven, the taste of your mouth, everything about you wraps him into knots, tangled in the web of your desire, and he’s not sure if he’s ever felt so eager to be owned.

But then your fingers reach for his shirt, and he has to stop you while he has the capacity to think, having distracted the beast with the feeling of his lips on yours.

Reaching out, Billy stops your hands as they reach for the edges of his shirt, looking into your eyes for a long moment, unsure of why he’s hesitating when he has you here, ready for him.

The idea of your hands on his bare skin makes the panther tug at his mind. Why was he stopping you? He could almost feel the promise of your soft hands, his stomach curling in desire.

He feels the beast take advantage of his muddled mind to seize control once more.

.

You can’t see too much in the low light, but you know there’s an internal battle being fought in his head. You try to be patient with him, to let him decide if he wants to continue or not, and try to be okay with whatever act he decides on.

You’re definitely not expecting him to reach through the darkness and grip your jaw.

But god, does it feel good. 

“Had enough?”

It’s definitely not something you expected him to say.

It’s hard to shake your head with his fingers pressing into your jaw but you do your best to anyway.

“Please,” You whisper, unable to voice your need, “Please.” 

You feel his grip on your jaw tighten.

“You don’t know what you’re asking for.” His voice is so deep it washes over your bare skin like a gentle caress.

“You. I’m asking for you.”

He lets out a sharp breath.

“You shouldn’t want me.”

And yet, you do.

You whine, moving a hand slowly between your thighs, your intention is to either ease the ache inside of you, or get a reaction out of him.

You get the latter, with his hand reaching out to stop yours.

When he does nothing, you groan angrily.

“Please, please, please fuck me, Billy.”

In the darkness, you can’t see his grin, but you know it’s there from the way he says his next words.

“That was all you had to say.”

And then so many things happen at once.

He grips your hips, lifting you off the counter and bringing you against his body. You squeak in surprise, not enough time to marvel at his strength before one hand is under your ass, supporting your weight, and the next hand is gripping the back of your head to kiss you, hard.

You respond readily, wrapping your legs tightly around his hips while eagerly tugging his shirt up.

Smiling into the kiss as he has no choice but to let you undress him, raising the hand gripping your hair to help you get his shirt off one arm, and then switching hands to keep you supported while you pull his shirt free in totality.

Almost immediately, your hands are on his bare torso. You sigh happily into his kiss, reaching around to trail your fingertips over his back. He grunts against your mouth, taking you somewhere with smooth steps.

When your hands trail down the front of his body, he pauses his movement to assist you in getting his pants off. Perching you on his small kitchen table, he fumbles for the button and zipper of his pants before kicking it off. Your hands keep roaming his torso eagerly, over his defined biceps and shoulders, and when it’s not enough, you lean in to place open mouthed kisses all over his collarbones.

He groans, turning his head to kiss at your cheek, one hand tilting your head so that he can pepper kisses along the side of your face.

You look down, finding his swollen cock gripped in his fist, his open pants hanging low on his hips. The tip of his cock is a dark pink, almost a purple in the low light, a bead of precum slowly presenting at his slit.

You know he's going to hate that he's wearing his pants later, so while he's distracted by kissing your cheek and stroking the remarkable length between his legs, you push his pants down lower, hoping that he'll understand and kick them off.

You don't get the chance to make sure they're fully off- he grips your jaw, turning your head up to his.

Such a beautifully sinister face, the promise of pleasure so close.

“Are you ready for me?” He asks, his voice a husky timbre.

Honestly, you didn't know, but with the amount of arousal you were feeling, the way your thighs and ass were messy with want, the knowledge that your body was at peak fertility, made your odds look pretty good.

Plus, you didn't think you had the sanity left in you to make sure. You wanted him badly, and you wanted him now.

You swallow, eyes demure as you nod your head.

He grips your jaw harder.

“Say. It.” He hisses.

“I want you in me.” You breathe softly.

You watch his eyes roll closed, lips parted, breathing shallow. A sharp nod, before he’s lining his cock up with your entrance by feel alone.

You bite down on your bottom lip really hard- clenching the moment you feel the head of his cock press against you.

“Easy,” Billy soothes, his hand smoothing over your shoulder and down your back, “Relax for me.” He whispers, bringing his mouth to your ear.

You give a shy nod, taking a deep breath as he eases the tip of his cock into you.

A little broken sound leaves your throat, your head falling against his chest. Your centre flutters involuntarily, clenching around him, pulling another soft whimper from you.

“I know, sweetheart, I know.” He hums, pressing deeper. 

When he hits an uncomfortable point, stretching your cunt wide, your breath hitches as you drag your nails across his arm, silently asking him to wait, please.  

He does, hands gripping your hips, aching for some semblance of sanity as he feels you all around him.

When you’re feeling okay, you shift your hips closer, silently asking for more.

It’s a trial, taking him, despite how wet and aching you are, even though you’ve been dreaming of this for days, your thighs tremble as you breathe evenly in an attempt to accept his girth.

“Billy.” You mewl, nails clawing at his biceps, squeezing tight as he finally fits the last inch of himself deep inside you.

You can feel him so eternally deep, the tip of his cock snug against your cervix while your lungs heave air, unable to comprehend the pleasure of being so full.

Trembling, your eyelids flutter as he draws out, and then back in again, thankfully, slow enough for you to accommodate.

He takes an audibly sharp breath, before you feel him lift you off the counter.

Your mouth drops open in shock, hands wrapping around his shoulders to steady yourself, and you feel his hands, their firm grip on your ass as he begins rocking you slowly on his cock.

There’s absolutely no way- he steals your thinking with a rough thrust- mouth dropping open as his cock rubs that delicious spot deep inside you.

He lets out a soft grunt that makes you clench, pleasure clouding your brain, removing each thought until you’re a puddle of want.

His pace is even, calm, he moves you as if you weigh almost nothing, lifting and dropping you on his own whim, his breathing is uneven, sometimes deep, and other times shallow, but you feel that has more to do with the grip of your cunt than the weight of you.

He clenches his jaw, eyes fluttering as he begins to make deeper strokes, you struggle to hold your body upright, leaning against him, your head on his shoulder while he uses you to please himself.

It’s more than good, better than anything before, he gives you just what you need and maybe a little more. You feel full, stretched, like this is what you’ve been craving for most of your life.

You sink your fingers into his shoulders, trying to fight the tears of ecstasy threatening to fall. His skin is warm, a little groan on each breath.

It flutters in your ribs, the tug of something intoxicating deep inside of you as he fucks you like this, as if he owns you and the very pleasure you experience. Your cunt clamps down around him, desperate, warning, that you were going to shatter around him very soon.

You say his name, head tipping back to allow more air into your system, as if that could help you manage the impending act of falling apart.

He makes a low sound, almost a growl, makes you shiver, your thoughts being scrubbed from your mind as his cock fills you repeatedly.

It's too much, and then there's a rush of pleasure inside you, starting from your center and working its way into your head. You sob, body rocking against his, locked tight on the brink of insanity.

A sharp cry spills from your mouth as your vision goes white, his hands tighten on the flesh of your ass, going still when you clench around his cock.

It feels like you're locked in that haze of pleasure for eternity, head tipped back, eyes closed, soft whimpers leaving your lips as you grip his cock like life depends on it.

Then comes the tremors, falling against him, your entire body quivers, waves and waves of sizzling euphoria, carving its way up your spine, pooling somewhere in the back of your head making all your limbs feel so sluggish.

He holds you through all of it, cock deep, kissing your deepest parts, breathing shallow, eyes dark, filled with want.

.

When you come on his cock, his thinking fragments.

All it takes is the flutter of your walls around him, the way you look while you take pleasure on his cock, the smell of your skin, your moans filling the air, he doesn't think he's ever been this far away from sanity.

His mate is beautiful.

Made just for him, and him for her.

The beast inside of him demands he claim ownership, raw instinct to bite into your skin and mark you, leave traces of his spit and his cum on you so that everyone will know that you’re his.

The taste of your cunt lingers on his tongue, he doesn’t remember that he’s a man in these few moments after he feels you come.

All he can think of now, is the magnificence of his soulmate, and the ways he’s going to ruin her, the ways he’s going to reshape her until she wants for only him.

He feels his teeth sharpen, feels you lean in to rest your head against his shoulder. 

It would be so easy, his mouth is so close, he could tilt his head and sink his teeth into your skin and you would barely feel any pain because he’d be fucking you through it, making sure you come at least three more times before he releases your skin from between his teeth.

He leans in, rubs his lips to your shoulder, to the very spot he’d bite, feels you clench around him in response, almost as if you’re asking for the same thing.

He closes his eyes, feels the push of the panther in his head, almost goes along with it.

It’s the smell of your skin that stops him. He stands there, breathing you in.

Fresh strawberries, making his mouth water, so deliciously ripe for him, all for him.

Sweet and small in his arms- hurting you would tear him apart.

It gives him the willpower to raise his head, to suck in a deep breath and remember that the predator was not all that he was, that he could choose differently.

He would simply, choose you.

.

When your orgasm finally subsides, all you can do is rest your head on his shoulder, clinging to him, in hopes that he never releases you.

He moves, holding you so easily that you have no idea how it’s even possible.

When your body is placed gently onto his bed, you only get a few moments to settle before his cock is pressing into you with more fervour than before.

It knocks the air right out of you, his thrusts are deep and fast, chasing his own orgasm now that he’s given you yours.

You moan, feeling him fill you so roughly, so deeply that you know you never want him out, you squeeze the walls of your cunt around him, silently begging him to stay deep inside of you, to empty himself there, a primal voice in the back of your head telling you that this is what you were made for.

His grip is tight on your hips, his breathing is shallow and hitched, broken up with low grunts, that makes your brain rattle with want.

He’s like a coiled predator, moving his body against yours, holding you firm so that he can plunder the deepest parts of you as he so pleases.

He leans down to kiss you, but doesn’t linger in favour of fucking you harder, your head tilted back, moaning in bliss to high heaven.

It works you up to another orgasm so quickly that you can only whimper in warning, trying to tell the amazing man above you that he’s your undoing without ever uttering a word. Your fingers grip his arms, wherever you can reach, nails pressed to his skin because you feel like you’re floating and you need him to tether you.

Something clicks in your brain just then, as he’s inside of you, the shallow pump of his cock lighting up every uncharted part of your brain, flooding your body with euphoria, unlike anything you’ve ever experienced.

It’s almost like self discovery, though, you’re not sure what you’ve found, all you know is that you’re open, and vulnerable beneath him, and through your watery vision- as the first hot tear spills from the corner of your eyes, and you catch sight of his parted lips and pinched eyebrows- you understand something you didn’t before.

That this is where you belong. With him, under him, taking him. 

“Good.” He grunts above you, and you force your eyes to focus on his gorgeous face.

“You feel so good.” He says again, and you whine, cunt clenching as he keeps his thrusts short. You can feel how wet you are in the ease of his motions, your body accepting him, you can feel him with the most intimate parts of yourself.

After a moment, he goes deeper.

You let out a strangled sound, barely capable of breathing with the sheer size of him in the deepest parts of you, you reach to grip the sheets instead as you fear you might hurt him, your body shaking with the desire to fall apart around him.

His mouth parts on a harsh breath, and your eyes drop down to his pink mouth, something odd about the way his canines look, your brain too blissed out to focus.

His teeth are sharp, and there’s something about his eyes.

“Please.” You beg, aching for another orgasm, lost in the rhythm of his cock inside of you, his thrusts growing so forceful that you shift up the bed with each thrust, the headboard bumping the wall each time as well.

“I-” You try to say, looking into his eyes, a low whine slipping from your throat, trying to tell him, to convey to him that you’re on edge and close to orgasm.

He understands, like you knew he would. Billy leans into you, taking up all the space around you, one hand sinking into your hair, holding you in place, his other hand interlocking with yours.

“Mine.” He rumbles, right into your ear, your skin tingles at the low timbre of his voice, you feel his teeth, scrape over your neck and you gasp.

“Cum. Now.” He orders, and your entire body shudders almost instantly. You cunt flutters involuntarily around his cock, you hear him let out a low moan as your clenching around is cock gets more intense.

A broken sound leaves your mouth, and then the dam breaks. 

You sob endlessly as pleasure overtakes your system, burning like wildfire in your veins, consuming everything and leaving only bliss in its wake. Your body thanks him, quietly, unable to do anything more than experience pleasure at the whim of his fingers and the steady motion of his cock. He holds you through all of it, an anchor that grounds you as you lose all thought. 

His lips pepper kisses over your neck, it only makes the pleasure that much sweeter. 

Above you, Billy growls loudly, you feel him make one final thrust, before he orgasms too, filling you with his cum, making you feel whole in a way you barely understand.

He stays inside of you for a while, cock twitching, you swear he fills you so much that it could almost spill out.

“I’m sorry.” Are the first words he whispers to you through shuddering breaths, his hands cupping your cheeks to encourage you to meet his eyes with your glassy ones.

“Are you hurt? Please tell me if I hurt you.”

You reach up to cup his cheek too, so happy to have him here with you, finally realising how much you really missed him.

Could he be yours? Really yours? Would he spend the rest of his days making you feel safe and loved and happy the way you were feeling right now?

Was that a real possibility for the two of you?

“I’m okay.” You finally gasp, thick emotion in your voice. You grip the back of his head, fingers tangled in his hair to pull him down for a kiss.

Outside, thunder rumbles across the sky.

.

Your kisses are soft, meaningful, but it doesn’t take long for them to grow frantic again, and before you know it, his cock, having never gone soft, resumes fucking you once more.

Your body is ready for more, prioritising pleasure over whatever mild soreness you may feel. He fucks you to another orgasm before flipping you over onto your hands and knees.

He’s deeper now, your eyes roll back in your head as you rock your hips to meet his, a quiet slapping fills the room.

He reaches around, grips your throat to pull you up.

Your back pressed to his chest, his mouth tickles your ear.

“You can take it can’t you?” He asks, breathing laboured.

You mewl, nodding, his hips meet yours in another hard thrust.

 “Isn’t this what you wanted, sweetheart? What you-” He kisses your cheek, “ -and that pretty little cunt has been begging for?”

“Uh-huh.” Is your only vocalisation.

“So sweet for me.” He says, almost to himself, before he makes you see stars.

.

Your hair splays around you as your body falls to the bed, his cock filling you with his cum yet another time.

He stays inside of you for long moments, not pulling out until he absolutely has to.

You feel his spend spill out of you, you try to keep it inside.

He’s covered in a sheen of sweat when he crashes next to you, breathing rapid just like yours is.

You look into his eyes, and you see the corner of his mouth tick up into a smile, both of you fully understanding that this would not be the last time you fuck tonight.

.

When he takes you against the window, your legs wobble. He solves the issue by picking you up once more.

One hand pressed to the glass, the other under your ass, you’re not even sure how it’s possible that you’re being fucked in this position, but honestly you don’t care as long as he keep filling you with his deliciously large cock.

.

It’s almost morning when you finally fall into a deep sleep, wrapped in his arms, his fingers trailing in slow circles around the small of your back.

You breathe contentment, a bliss you’d never even thought was achievable, sated in his arms and you know there’s nowhere on earth that could be better than this.

.

You groan when he slips your still tired body into the warm bath.

You barely peek an eye open, feeling him slide in behind you, you turn so that your front is pressed against his.

His hands are firm yet gentle, washing the dried sweat from your skin, pouring warm water onto your shoulder, carefully swiping his fingers through your hair.

“ Wha’ time is it?” You mumble sleepily, lips half pressed to his collarbone.

“After twelve, we slept for a while.” He murmurs softly, sleep still clinging to his voice.

“We fucked for a while too.” You sigh.

He chuckles.

.

You ride him in his sun room after breakfast.

Or maybe that was lunch, the details seem irrelevant.

He piles you high with toast and eggs, bacon that tastes almost as good as the sex had been, and when you’re full, you can’t help the way your hands wander over his skin.

It’s not on purpose at first, you just want to enjoy his presence, tracing your hands up his shoulders to play with the hairs near the nape of his neck.

But he closes his eyes, makes a soft groaning sound when you gently scratch his scalp.

And then of course, you have to kiss him.

One soft peck, and then another, you find yourself pressed against him, tongues dancing, the grip of his hands on your hips, pulling you closer and closer.

He seats you on his lap and you can feel his stiff erection through his thin boxers and all bets are off.

You place a kiss on his lips after, telling him you’ll be right back, taking the empty dishes down to the kitchen and using the bathroom before heading back.

You find him lying on his front, sleeping in a beam of sunlight.

He’s face down, the light of the sun revealing his true hair colour to be more of a dark brown that the black it usually looks like, his breathing is soft and even, and you curl your hands into fists to resist reaching out to touch his bare back.

You smile fondly, noticing he’s not where you left him, figuring he must have moved into the sunlight before falling asleep, very much like a-

Like papers reshuffling, you feel your thoughts build a conclusion you didn’t even know you were looking for.

Of course, it had been right in front of you all along, staring you right in the face and you hadn’t even realised.

You raise a hand, touching the pendant hanging around your neck.

The memory of the way his teeth looked last night- that you’d sworn was just a trick of the light, the unexplainable way he’d lifted you- effortlessly strong in a way that you’d never seen a man do.

The way the animal had come to you, bringing your most beloved possession back, after you’d cried in his arms about the very thing.

You let out a soft breath, leaning against the doorframe to come to terms with the undeniable truth, that Billy, was the panther protecting you.

.

.

.

A/N: I didn't initially intend to stop here, but the length of the chapter grew to unmanageable lengths, I'm very sorry about the unintentional cliffhanger.

[ughlantsov]

he fucks you too hard and you cry x reader w frank?

Thank you for the request! I almost feel bad for Frankie writing this! But I will anyway :)

Frank Castle x Reader

Word Count: 1,710

Minors DNI. ----------------

Stop. The word popped in your head with your knees smashed into your chest as Frank fucked you so hard that you felt the skin on the back of your thighs and ass grow tender and raw. Frank had your calves hugged to his chest, a bulky arm wrapped around your shins, as the slam of his hips left your hands scrambling for purchase in the bunched up sheets.

You had never established a safe word with Frank. The idea of it seemed almost silly. A word to keep you safe from Frank? The man was safety personified. He worshipped the ground you walked on. He protected you from things that didn't need protecting. He put you first, always. It wasn't as though you didn't want one with him, the idea of it had just never crossed your mind.

In fact, you typically loved Frank's restrained power during sex. You craved his passion and even a little pain-- sex with Frank was often not without its marks. His calloused hand squeezing the smooth silk of your neck. A stinging slap to your ass as Frank filled you thoroughly from behind. A firm tug to your hair, your back arching to grant access that much deeper. It was the implicit trust and safety with him that made these moments possible at all.

But in this moment, Frank's brows furrowed, his grunts erratic and laced with something like anger, all you could think was stop. You had already cum, twice and hard, but Frank was relentless tonight. You had sensed the set of his jaw when he came home after a meeting with Billy but he shrugged it off with a "nah, nuthin' a pretty girl like you needs to worry about." But you knew he was still bothered, catching him in a stare while his thumb drummed on the countertop.

Truthfully, you were already feeling sensitive. Your favorite dress from last season was feeling more snug than normal and you had gotten into an argument with a product manager at work. And maybe you weren't exactly in the mood for sex but the way Frank tugged you close after the shower, his nose taking a deep inhale of your freshly washed hair and his hand easily unknotting the towel around your chest, you let yourself be persuaded with his touch.

Frank will make it better. He always does.

What you craved was softness tonight. Reverence. Those nights were Frank spent what felt like hours with his face buried between your legs, only coming up for air to coo at how fucking good you tasted. Or something like slow morning sex, with your leg draped over his hip, him dragging his cock slowly in and out from behind you, his fingers giving your clit the attention it needed until you were a sleepy, smiley puddle of goo in his hands.

But what you got was different. And maybe if it were any other day you'd cum for the third time and beg him to go harder. But it was today and now and all you could think was stop. Please stop. Tears well in the corners of your eyes and you reach your hands to press against the tops of his thighs, an attempt to slow the force of him. To gain just a moment to catch your breath.

Frank misses the cue, mumbling "Fuck sweetheart," as he grips your legs and lifts your ass an inch off the bed, his pace quickening to a pound-pound-pound-pound so that your body feels annihilated and used.

The sob chokes out of your mouth almost involuntarily. Your hand flying to cover your face as you beg him to "stop, stop, stop."

Immediately he stops. A "fuck" flying out of his mouth, his brows twisted in confusion and he calls your name and bends to scoop you gently from the bed. Once the floodgates have opened you find the crying hard to control, your mouth gulping for air as your chest heaves.

Frank twists to sit on the bed with you held firmly in his lap, brushing the hair out of your face to find your eyes. Pleading evident in his tone as he says, "Fuck, you gotta talk to me doll. I hurt you? Did I hurt you baby?" as he rocks you slowly back and forth, the motion meant to soothe you and him.

"S-s-s-sorry," you attempt to start, the gulping breaths still winning over, "didn't feel it right."

"It didn't feel right sweetheart. I believe you. It didn't feel right," he repeats back, still swaying back and forth, his eyes darting around the room in panic. He makes to shift you slightly and you hiss, the movement aggravating the tender skin of your thighs and ass.

"Fuck fuck fuck." he mumbles to himself, assessing his damage, "Hurts there doll?" he asks and you nod your head.

"sensitive," you mumble, casting a glance up to his eyes for the first time and seeing the crumpled, devastated look on his face.

"Ok if I take a look sweetheart?" he asks, his voice so soft you barely him hear. "Would that be alright?"

"uh-huh," you nod and he gingerly shifts you in this lap to peak at the backs of your thighs and your ass, the skin angry and chapped. He lets a slow breath out of his mouth, an attempt to steady the bubbling rage directed inward. He'd find the time to hate himself later, right now he needed to make it right with you.

"Gonna lay you down on the bed, yeah?" he asks, meeting your eye again and nodding at you to confirm your agreement. You nod back and hold tight to his neck as he twists to face the bed and gently lay you stomach-down, avoiding the tender skin. He guides a pillow just along your side so you can hug it, propping your body on its side, positioning your top leg to drape across the pillow. He reaches for the lotion off the bedside table and takes three big pumps before working it between his hands.

"Need you to take a few deep breaths for me honey. Might sting for a minute but's gonna help, alright?" he instructs, his tone soft. You nod and squeeze your eyes shut at the slight sting of the cool lotion as Frank starts to delicately work it into your chaffed skin. "Doin' so well sweetheart," he offers, "almost done."

Once he's finished he tugs the blanket up to cover your form, again fixing the hair out of your face. "Sweetheart I-- " he starts but stops, releasing a deep breath. "Fuck sweetheart, I'm so sorry. So fuckin' sorry," he adds, an agitated hand swiping down his face as he kneels on the ground in front of the bed to be eye level with you.

"Frankie s'okay," you reply quietly, "I'm ok. Promise. Just...had a bad day. Feel so stupid," you add.

"Hey hey, no, none of that doll. I.... I got too rough," he says, shaking his head as if to rid it of the memory, "I fucked up. You don't deserve shit like that."

"Lay with me?" you ask, "please." He felt so far away. Despite the proceedings, Frank felt like the only safe space. You craved his dependable solidness. The safety of his arms engulfing you.

"You sure you want that sweetheart?" he asks, his thumb skimming your cheekbone and his eyes searching your face. You nod and grasp his hand, mumbling another "please" before he climbs in gingerly behind you, his body cupping yours and a big hand making long, slow circles on your back.

You weren't sure when you had dozed off but when you woke, Frank wasn't there. You gather the blanket around your naked body and pad into the living room, Frank seated in silence, the room dark but for the streetlight, jumping to his feet the minute you step into the room.

"What's the matter sweetheart? You alright?" he asks urgently, standing in front of you in three long strides and his hands landing on your hips. "Somethin' hurt?," he adds, his eyes raking over your form.

"No I just...." you trail off. "Don't do this. Please," you plead, beckoning Frank off the edge of self-loathing that he teetered on.

"I'm not -- you're not safe with me sweetheart. That's the truth," he rumbles, matter of fact but his toned laced with disgust. You bristle at his statement, the fallacy of it striking and obvious.

"Bullshit," you respond, his eyes snapping to yours. "That's bullshit and you know it," you assert, feeling indignant that Frank let indulgent self-loathing threaten the safe space you'd both created.

"It's not fucking bullshit," Frank retorts, anger fueling him, almost mad that you won't hate him as much as he hates himself. "I did this," he says spinning your body and lifting the blanket, the product of his effort on display. "Me. Fucked you like a monster and I hurt you. I hurt the woman I love," he adds, his voice close to shouting.

"Say it again," you ask him, refusing to look away from him.

"I fuckin' hurt you!" he shouts back.

"No, the other part," you demand.

"The woman I love," he says, his voice still raised but the simmering rage dissipating.

"Say it again," you reply.

"The woman I love," he responds, softening. "The woman I fucking love. Fuck sweetheart. Fuck I never wanna fuckin' hurt you but that's what I do. I get people hurt," he adds, the vulnerability cracking through. The rage and self loathing only flimsy shield to keep terrifying vulnerability at bay.

"I'm not afraid of you Frank. I'm not afraid with you. I'm safe with you. And I love you," you murmur, your hands handing on either side of his face, fingertips tickling in the bristle on his jaw.

His neck cranes down to lean his forehead against yours, his hands making their way back around your waist to tug you closer. "Don't wanna hurt you like that again," he says.

You nod in agreement, and he adds, "Need you to speak up too ok? Gotta tell me how you're feelin', yeah?" and you nod again before his big hand cups your jaw and you let your eyes fall shut.

"Come on sweetheart, lemme take care of you," he murmurs, bending to gently lift you from behind the knees and supporting your back and walking to the bedroom.

[ughlantsov]

Could you do something with Frank where his s/o is just trying to comfort/take care of Frank after a mission and he just snaps at them? His s/o was having a really rough week and wanted to make themselves feel better by taking care of Frank. S/o leaves and turns off their phone to be away from him for a bit and he panics after he realizes what he did? Ending in fluff of course be my heart can’t handle sad endings 😂

Ps. Absolutely love your writing

thank you so much for the request nonnie! you know I love some good angst. but, as requested, I did give this a nice ending for you. a bit of a...flirty ending if you will. 😏

warning: swearing, lots of angst, slight mentions of blood and violence, allusions to spiciness word count: 3.4k

[part two]

really bad week.

Frank let out a heavy exhale as he shut off the scalding hot water in the shower, watching through hooded lids as translucent streams of red disappeared down the drain. He was exhausted, completely overstimulated, and there wasn’t a muscle in his body that didn’t ache. 

The job had been harder than he’d planned for. The information he was given was bad, and he didn’t realize it until it was too late. Frank knew how to think quickly on his feet, he’d been trained to do that, and he normally excelled at it, but it didn’t stop the rage he felt towards his ignorant informant. The anger was like poison in his bloodstream, spreading further throughout him with every injury and minor inconvenience, and it followed him home. 

It wasn’t until he stepped into your shared bedroom with a towel draped low across his hips that he realized how quiet the house was. Frank stilled, ears perking up as he listened for a sign of your presence. You were there to greet him the second he got home, and you normally either joined him for a shower or waited with a first aid kid to tend to his wounds. 

But Frank didn’t hear the patter of your feet on the hardwood floor coming to him.

“Baby?”

Silence. 

Frank quickly dropped his towel and slipped on a pair of boxers, swiftly making his way down the hallway towards the living room. His dark eyes darted back and forth around the space before his feet carried him into the kitchen where you normally waited. 

But you weren’t there.

Frank made his way back into the living room, instantly going rigid when he noticed your keys were still on the entry table. Pulling back the curtain, he swore under his breath seeing that your car was still in the driveway. Rushing towards the bedroom to grab the pistol he kept in his nightstand, he grabbed his phone and furiously dialed your number. 

He held the phone between his shoulder and ear, checking the clip and cocking the hammer of the gun as he made his way around your home, checking every room carefully. The endless ringing coming through the line filled him with dread.

“C’mon baby, pick up. Pick up.”

The sound of your chipper voicemail had Frank swearing again, tossing his phone onto the bed as he dialed your number again and put it on speaker so he could get dressed. 

“Pick up the goddamn phone, Y/N.”

Frank nearly kicked the door to the bathroom off the hinges when he got your voicemail again. Where the fuck did you go? Why did you take off without saying anything? You never did that. You always told Frank when you were leaving, even if you were just stepping outside to check the mail. You knew how important it was for him to know where you were at all times.

Had he missed something when he came home? Did you say something to him about leaving? But where would you go without your car? Why would you-

Frank abruptly paused his incandescent pacing as realization spread like ice through his bones, completely freezing him in place. 

“Fuck.”

You had opened the door to greet Frank before he even made it to the front steps, your soft hands delicately searching Frank’s face and torso for injuries, gently trying to coax him out of his clothes, offering nothing but pure kindness and compassion to help in any way you could.

You just wanted to help. You always just wanted to help. As guilty as it made him feel to come home to you bloody and broken, you always swore that you didn’t mind putting him back together. You promised that you loved taking care of him. You assured him that it wasn’t a hindrance, but that it gave you peace of mind, because you knew no one would take care of him like you would, especially not himself. You even confessed to him that it made you feel better to do it.

“You always take such good care of me, Frankie. You’re always protecting me. I can’t protect you back, but I can take care of you. Being your healer gives me a sense of purpose. It makes all the noise fade away. It makes me happy, baby.”

You just wanted to help him, and he’d been a fucking dick. 

He snapped at you. 

He yelled at you. 

And when he closed his eyes, he saw the fear in yours, and it made him shudder. 

Frank helplessly dialed your number again, rushing to the living room to grab the keys to his truck, tucking the gun into the waistband of his jeans as he went into full blown panic mode.

“Fuck, sweetheart. C’mon, pick up the phone. Pick up the phone for me honey, please.”

Frank never meant to raise his voice at you. He didn’t mean to let his anger get the best of him in front of you. You didn’t deserve the way he had treated you. All you were trying to do was help, but he wasn’t thinking straight. He was completely depleted physically, impossibly frustrated, and his entire body throbbed with pain. 

But that wasn’t an excuse for him to snap at you like he had. 

“Would you fuckin’ quit? Goddamn, I been home two seconds and you’re already up my ass. Just fuckin’ back off. I don’t need you followin’ me around, bein’ all fuckin’ needy and shit. I can take care of myself, I don’t need you. Stop bein’ a pain in my goddamn ass and just let me fuckin’ be.”

Frank slammed the door to his truck shut as he forced his key into the ignition, clenching his jaw tightly and flaring his nostrils angrily as he glanced at himself in the rear view mirror.

“You’re one sorry son of a fuckin’ bitch, you know that? Fuckin’ asshole.”

Frank recklessly backed out of the driveway and peeled off down the road, nearly breaking his phone screen as he harshly pressed his thumb against your contact again. But this time when he dialed, it went straight to voicemail.

“Fuck!”

Frank sent his phone flying into the dashboard as he gripped his steering wheel with one hand, dragging his other palm down his face and quickly running it through his still damp hair as he tried to focus. You didn’t take your car, so you had to be on foot, which meant you couldn’t have gone far. But where would you go?

He drove around your neighborhood for nearly an hour, eyes frantically darting around the road and both sides of the street with the windows down. Every second that passed that he couldn’t find you filled him with more and more trepidation to the point where he felt nauseous. His hands shook despite the tight grip on his steering wheel, but he couldn’t tell if it was from anger or from fear.

What if he had fucked up too bad? What if he couldn’t fix this? What if he came home and you were gone for good?

Frank swallowed the lump forming in his throat as the image of your terrified face flashed in his brain again. He never wanted you to look at him like that. He never wanted you to be afraid of him. He felt absolutely sick with guilt that he had scared you so badly that you had run. When Frank drove by the park at the end of the street for the twenty-seventh time, he quickly hit the brakes and put his truck in park. You had brought him to this park a few times before to have a picnic. You liked to watch the kids play, and see all the pretty flowers when they started to bloom. Frank quietly shut his truck door and pocketed his keys as he walked over towards the playground, and he immediately stilled once he saw a shadow on a swing illuminated by the moonlight.

You.

Your back was to him as you sat on the swing, leaning your head against the set of chains that your hands were loosely wrapped around. Frank normally would’ve smiled at the fact that your feet didn’t even reach the ground, but right now it just broke his heart, because it reminded him of how small and delicate you were. He approached you cautiously, and the closer he got, the more he was able to see the gentle shake of your shoulders and hear your quiet sniffles, and his heart shattered all over again.

“Baby?”

Your spine instantly stiffened as his voice cut through the silence of the night. You never reacted to him that way. Even when he surprised you by entering a room without a word when you were too distracted to hear the heavy thud of his boots, you never jumped or got startled, because you knew it was just him. You were never afraid of his presence.

Until now.

When you didn’t respond, Frank slowly made his way around to the front of the swings, keeping a good distance between you and himself so that he didn’t frighten you anymore than he had. He couldn’t see your face from where he stood above you. Your head was tilted downwards, and your hair covered your face like a curtain. He was momentarily grateful that he couldn’t see the look on your face. He wasn’t sure if he could handle it.

“Sweetheart?”

Silence.

Frank’s fingers twitched at his sides. He didn’t know what to do. He knew what he wanted to do; rush forward and pick you up into his arms, hug your head against his chest, kiss your forehead and run his fingers through your hair as he apologized over and over. He just wanted to fix it and make it better. But he wasn’t sure if you even wanted him to touch you right now, and that hurt worse than a bullet to the skull.

Letting out a heavy sigh, Frank took a few more cautious steps forward and knelt down in front of you, still trying to keep enough space between you both to make you more comfortable.

“Honey…I’m…I’m sorry. I’m real fuckin’ sorry. I didn’t mean to-I shoulda never raised my voice at you like that. I didn’t mean to, baby. I swear.”

Nothing.

Frank closed his eyes for a moment as he fought back tears that threatened to build along his waterline. He clenched his fists tightly, trying to keep his voice calm and even as he pleaded with you.

“Y/N…please talk to me. Please, baby. Just…say somethin’. Yell at me, hit me, hell take this fuckin’ gun and empty the clip right in my fuckin’ chest. Just…somethin’.”

“I’m not gonna do that, Frank.”

Your voice was barely above a whisper as it hit his ears, and Frank hated how small and broken it sounded. He watched as you lifted your head slightly, tucking your hair behind your ears as you sniffled, still refusing to look at him. 

Frank thought he’d had his heart broken before, but that was nothing compared to seeing the pain on your face beneath the glow of the moon. He nearly broke down in tears seeing your puffy eyes and reddened nose, and the lingering hurt that was carved into every feature on your face.

“Baby-”

“I’m sorry I upset you.”

“What? What are you talkin’ about?”

Frank’s dark brows knit together in utter confusion at your apology, cocking his head to the side in complete disbelief.

“I just wanted to help. But…you’re right. I need…I need to back off. I…it’s too much. I’m too much-”

“Hey, stop it. That is not true-”

“Yes it is, Frank. You said it yourself.”

Even though your voice was more firm with anger behind it, there was no denying the ache that dripped from your words. Frank closed his eyes for a moment as he let out a heavy exhale through his nose, quickly shaking his head in rejection.

“I didn’t mean that. I didn’t mean a goddamn word I said earlier. Alright?”

“Frank-”

Frank moved closer on his knees toward you, shaking his head quickly as he stared into your teary eyes.

“I didn’t. I swear…on Maria and the kids. I was…I was in a bad mood when I came home. I was frustrated, and I was hurtin’, and I took all that out on you, and that wasn’t fair. I didn’t mean to snap at you like that. You didn’t do nothin’ wrong, you understand me? Nothin’. I was not upset with you. I do not think any of that. I…I lost my temper, baby. I’m sorry. I’ll never be able to apologize hard enough, and I’ll never forgive myself for scarin’ you like that.”

Frank wanted nothing more than to reach for you when your bottom lip started to tremble. He watched as you lowered your head, toying nervously with the bracelet around your wrist as you refused to look at him.

“You were so mad…”

The fear in your fragile voice would’ve brought Frank to his knees if he wasn’t already on them. He closed his eyes as a remorseful tear slipped down his cheek, swallowing thickly as he tightened his jaw and inhaled sharply.

“I…I didn’t mean to scare you, sweetheart. I would never hurt you. Please…please tell me you know that.”

“Hurt me? I didn’t think you were going to hurt me, Frank.”

“I scared you-”

“I wasn’t scared of you, Frank. I was scared that you were mad at me. I thought I upset you…and that you didn’t want me there.”

Frank’s eyes flew open as he stared at you incredulously, lips parting as he began to shake his head quickly.

“Didn’t want you there? Baby, why would you say that?”

“Because you said you didn’t need me.”

As fresh tears slipped down your cheeks, Frank moved even closer on his knees until yours were pressed against his chest, fighting to keep his hands by his sides as he shook his head furiously.

“I didn’t mean that. I do need you, honey. I love you. You are the one goddamn good thing I got, and I don’t ever wanna lose you.”

“Promise?”

Frank hated that he had to make that promise to you. He hated that he had fucked up so royally, that you were even questioning it. But he would make that same promise until his lungs gave out if that’s what you needed from him.

“I promise, baby. Please forgive me, honey. That’ll never happen again, I swear.”

“I forgive you, Frankie.”

“Can I touch you, is that alright? Let me hold you, sweetheart. Please.”

Frank sighed in relief when you leaned forward to wrap your arms around him, instantly wrapping you up in his own arms as he held you protectively against his chest. A soft giggle slipped past your lips as you wiggled in his grasp.

“Easy, big guy. You’re crushing me.”

“Shit, sorry baby. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. How did you know I was here?”

Frank cupped your jaw in his large hand as he searched your face, giving a slight shake of his head.

“I didn’t. Been drivin’ ‘round for hours tryin’ to find you, sweetheart. You weren’t answerin’ your phone, and then it started goin’ straight to voicemail. I thought…I was assumin’ the worst.”

A sheepish expression coveted your features as you nibbled on your bottom lip nervously.

“I…turned it off. I’m sorry, Frank-”

“Don’t be. You just…scared the shit out of me, baby. I thought…thought somethin’ happened-you can’t do that to me, Y/N. You can’t just leave like that. You need space, I’ll give it to ya, but you gotta let me know that. I gotta know where you are, sweetheart. I gotta know you’re safe. I…I swear I’ll never snap at you like that again, but you gotta swear to me you’re not gonna run off on me like that again. Please.”

“I’m sorry…I wasn’t thinking. I was just…upset and-”

“I know, baby. I know. S’alright. I got you now, yeah?”

Leaning your face into Frank’s palm, you wrapped your hand around his wrist as you stared into his eyes and nodded your head slowly. A sad smile tugged at the corner of your mouth as you swallowed thickly.

“I didn’t mean to run. It’s just…I had a really bad week, and I missed you so much. And you always…just being near you makes me feel better. I thought you were upset with me…and didn’t want me there…and I just…that made me feel even worse-”

A furrow formed between Frank’s brows as he looked at you, lips parting slightly as he wiped your cheeks with his thumbs.

“What happened that made it bad?”

“Just…stuff with work.”

“Why didn’t you call me, baby?”

“Because I hate bothering you with my problems when you’re away. It was stupid anyway-”

“Hey, it ain’t stupid if it hurts your feelin’s. And you never bother me, sweetheart. You can call me anytime, no matter what time it is, or what it is. I wanna be there for you as much as you are for me. I can’t stand the thought of you bein’ upset and feelin’ like you can’t come to me. You need me, you call me. You got that?”

Instead of answering, you pushed yourself off the swing so that you could climb onto Frank’s lap, burying your face in his chest as he tightened his arms around your body. He pressed a soft kiss to your head, gently rocking you from side to side on his lap when you clung to him even tighter.

“I love you, sweetheart. You know that, yeah?”

“I love you, Frankie. I’m sorry-”

“You got nothin’ to be sorry for. I’m the one that’s sorry. Will you let me take you home, baby? Been a week without you, just wanna lay down and hold you. Can I do that?”

Frank slowly rose up off his knees when he heard your muffled yes, keeping both arms wrapped around your waist securely as you locked your legs around his back. As he reached his truck door, you pulled back to stare into his eyes curiously with a tilt of your head.

“Why is there a gun in your jeans?”

“I’m just happy to see ya.”

A light smile appeared on your lips as you rolled your eyes with a shake of your head.

“I’m talking about the actual gun.”

“Ouch. Ya’know how to kick a guy when’s down, huh?”

“Frank-”

He cut you off with a gentle kiss as he pushed your back against his driver’s side door, trapping you there between it and his body. Brushing his nose against yours softly when he pulled back, he brought one of his hands up to tuck your hair behind your ear as he gazed at you.

“Told ya, baby. Wasn’t sure what happened at first. Thought I might need it.”

“And what were you planning to do with it?”

“Didn’t get that far. Just knew I had to find you, and wasn’t gonna let anyone get in my way.”

“So, what…you were gonna threaten the whole neighborhood to find me?”

“I’d wage war for you, sweetheart.”

The strength in Frank’s gravely voice and the intensity in his eyes confirmed his words. You knew he wasn’t lying, and it suddenly occurred to you just how far Frank would go to protect you. Gently grabbing onto the back of Frank’s neck, your lips parted slightly as you stared into his dark brown eyes.

“You’re…probably really…tired-”

“Wide awake, darlin’. You tired?”

Frank held your gaze, and you could see a flame starting to dance in his eyes. You knew that look, and it spread heat throughout your lower half that was trapped by his hips. Giving a slight shake of your head, you lightly fisted the collar of his shirt in your free hand, unable to tear away from the hunger in his eyes.

“Can I take you home, sweetheart? Show you how much I need you?”

“You can take me right here, Frankie.”

A low groan reverbated in his chest and it made you shiver. He leaned in to delicately brush his lips against yours, grabbing onto your hips tightly.

“Hate to wake up the whole neighborhood at this hour.”

“You really care about that right now?”

A sharp gasp fell from your mouth as Frank pushed his hips further against yours, allowing you to feel just how badly he needed you.

“Said hate to, baby. Didn’t say I wasn’t gonna.”

tags: @day-dreaming-goddess @neverlandcity @charmedkim @queenofthenoobs @stilldreaming666 @mattymurdock1021 @bubuslutty @messymissy @dark-academia-slut @strawberry1042

[ughlantsov]

hii this is not a request (unless u want it to be *wink wink*) just a horny thot i had that i needed to share lol but imagine frank’s girl having a rough day or being super down and frank saying “use me” to her while she’s on top and just passionate times ensue

a/n: okay but this turned out so mind-meltingly domestic and hot uuurrggghhhh

word count: 1647

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

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Switching the light off, you stepped out of the small bathroom. Glancing over at Frank as he plugged his phone into the charger at the bedside table, he asked quietly, “do you wanna talk about it?”

Crossing the room, you shook your head, “no,” and he reached for you, tenderly pulling your frame towards him. Curling your arms around his head, you hugged his seated figure back, “I don’t wanna talk tonight because if I do then I’ll just cry a bunch and get a massive headache…” you ran your fingers through his short hair, scratching his scalp soothingly as you exhaled heavily, “I just wanna feel better.” 

As he tilted his head up to look at you, you only gazed at his gentle expression a moment before you leaned down and pressed your lips to his. 

The soft goodnight kiss soon grew and morphed into something more as your arms tangled around his neck and he instinctively pulled you into his lap. As his frame slowly began to sink down against the mattress, taking you with him for the ride, his warmth felt so good that you couldn’t help but melt down against him completely. 

When his fingers found the muscles along your spine and soothingly pressed down, a low groan escaped your lips and vibrated against the kiss as he continued to massage your back.   

Sighing moans seeped from your lungs as your hips instinctively rolled down against his. 

You knew each other so well at this point, that words weren’t always necessary in situations like this. He knew what the shiver down your spine meant, just as you knew what meaning lied behind his tongue when it lavishly danced against your own. 

When the flame had sparked into such a fierce fire that you were only moments away from ripping each other’s sleepwear off, a breathy prayer escaped Frank’s lips.

“Use me.”

You didn’t pull back, only hazily lingered in his warmth as you hummed, “huh?” your nose ghosting against his own. 

“I wanna help you, make you feel better,” his hands swooped up to the sides of your face and drew you back enough for his gaze to catch yours, “so, use me,” his words caused your eyes to flicker back at him, “what do you want, huh? Because you just say the word and I’ll do it. I’ll do anything for you.”

A soft sigh flowed from your lips as you gazed down at him in adoration, “can you make me forget about everything? Turn my brain off… even just for a little while…”

“And how would you like me to do that, sweetheart?”

Offering him another roll of your hips, you breathed, “I think you already know,” and seized his lips once more. 

Your nightgown fluttered and rode up with his movements as his broad palms brushed up and down the curve of your frame, occasionally curling around your bottom and grazing his light touch over your underwear.  

Though suddenly, a breathy yelp tumbled out of you as Frank yanked you further up the bed, sculpting you till your thighs were planted on either side of his face. Curling his arms around your hovering hips, he firmly pulled them down. 

“O-oh…” a shaky sigh escaped your lips as his sloppy kisses soddened your covered core.

You reached out to the headboard for support as Frank’s sturdy nose nudged against your clit. Tightening his grasp on your hips, he gently began to move them down against his hot mouth till you slowly began to take over and grind down against his efforts. 

“Oh, fuck,” he soon groaned when he lifted you slightly off of him. His puffs of breath only fanned across your saliva-soaked underwear a moment before he yanked you off completely, “come here,” and flipped you around, readjusting himself so that he sat up against the headboard and had you slotted in between his thighs, your spine pressed up against his chest as he moulded you against him. Reaching down, he adjusted your legs, cracking you open and planting either one of your feet on the outer side of his knees. Casting his glance down over your shoulder, “ahh, look at that,” his warm touch travelled up your inner thigh before it found your panties, briefly tugging the clinging cotton up till the gusset dug deliciously into you. 

As he let the fabric spring back, all of his fingertips on that faintly balled-up fist swooped down to tickle you over the cotton, drawing feather-light circles that caused your frame to squirm from how good it felt. His lips nipped at the pulse thrumming on the side of your neck, even as he eventually ceased his caress with a playful tap against your puff. 

“Take them off,” he whispered in your ear as you felt him shift lightly behind you, craning over to the bedside table as you wiggled the pour panties down your legs. Fishing a bottle of lube out of the drawer, he then squeezed a dollop onto the pads of his fingers.

It wasn’t like you really needed it after all of his wonderful caresses, but a little added slickness never hurt no matter how ready you were, the only thing it ever managed to accomplish was increase your pleasure, and that was never something to deny yourself off, especially when it was just within arm’s reach.  

Your head tilted and your cheek smooshed against Frank’s chest as his fingers curled inside of you. His other curled around you as well, squeezing the softness of your tits through the thin material of your nightgown and nearly cradling you in the process as he slowly pumped two thick digits inside of you. 

“Oh, you’re so warm…” Frank’s deep voice rumbled softly behind you as his thumb stretched up to roll your clit. 

Tilting your chin, your lips parted as you gazed up at him. Curling your fingers around the nape of his neck, you drew him down enough to steal a kiss, his hot tongue swiftly sneaked out to join the party as you slowly turned your frame. 

Slipping his fingers out of your cunt, his touch stayed near your centre as he then lifted you up into his lap. Clawing needily at his dark boxers to free his cock, in a heartbeat you found yourself slowly sinking down upon it, his firm grip around you doing all of the work. 

“O-oh my god,” your eyes fluttered as he slowly eased you down, “I always kinda forget how fucking big it actually is until you put it in.”

Your grasp slid further up till you cupped each one of his scruffy cheeks, lowering your forehead to his as you trembly blew out short breaths of adjustment. 

“Well, I never forget just how incredible you feel,” one of his thumbs swirled over your skin as the rest of his digits dug into your flesh, leaving Frank-shaped imprints in the plush of your ass, “fucking amazing…”

You didn’t have to do a thing except let yourself sink into the sensation as Frank began to move you. His arms flexed around you as he slowly lifted you up, dragging your pussy over every little detail of him before he brought your back down, his brawny embrace practically cradled you as he gently bounced you in his lap. 

After your cunt had creamed all over his cock and he’d held you there in his arms a moment, just littering your face with his kisses, he then lowered you down to lay on the bed.

Propping both a pillow beneath your head as well as one beneath your hips, your legs curled over his bent ones as he dragged the bulbous tip of his dick through your puffy petals, “you are so beautiful,” parting them lavishly as he uttered, “my Y/n…” before he slowly slid back inside, “my love…” sinking down on top of you so that he became your entire reality, “I love you so much, you know that right?”

“Yeah,” you breathed, your legs curling up to hook around his back, “I love you too,” you felt your thighs begin to tremble on either side of him as he buried himself completely, “I love–, oh fuck…” as the length of him nuzzled impossibly deep within you, coherent words became awfully difficult to get out. 

He was so deep, you could feel him everywhere. And from the way that the tip of him kissed the deepest part of you with every euphoric roll of his hips, you were sure that if his comforting weight hadn’t been pressed so snugly against you, that you’d be able to glance down and spot a dull bulge form in your lower stomach with every single mind-melting thrust. 

But suddenly his intense and intoxicating movements eased and froze as he asked in a soft tone, “wow, wow, sweetheart. Are you okay?”

“Y-yeah, why did you stop?”

“Baby, you’re crying,” his thumb swiped over your misty cheek. 

“I am?” your brows furrowed fuzzily as you sniffled, “I didn’t realise, I’m sorry. I’m alright, I swear, you just feel so fucking good, I love you so much,” the words bubbled out of you like the tears that sprung from your eyes. 

“Oh, Y/n,” he gazed down at you as a gentle smile warmed his features, “you sure you’re okay?”

“Yes, please just don’t stop, keep going, you’re so fucking deep.”

His face scrunched up in a heavenly expression as he rocked back into you, “I love you,” hovering right above you as he fucked you into oblivion, “I love you so much… I’m right here… you’re right here, with me… the day’s all done… just focus on this… focus on me… on how I feel… how you make me feel… nothing, and I mean nothing’s, gonna hurt you… I’ve got you… I’ll keep you safe… I’ll always keep you safe…” 

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[ughlantsov]

double trouble | frank castle x f!reader x matt murdock | one-shot

masterlist

summary: it's always a bit of fun when you get on your knees for the both of them

warnings: dom!matt, soft!frank, m receiving oral, threesome, throat bulge, fratt gay touching????!, MEAN matthew, mean WHORE matthew, facial/cum, light impact play (yes matt is real mean here)

a/n: dedicated to mindi who said i should 'make my magic happen' and well.. here it is! it was not supposed to be that long but... alas, i got carried away. lost in the fantasy if you will 🤭

Tears threaten to stain your cheeks as Matt hovers behind you, his grip on your hair tightening as you hollow your cheeks out for Frank, taking him as deep as you can. Frank chokes back a sob as you cup his balls, stroking his shaft with one hand while your tongue swirls on his tip. “C’mon, sweetheart, just like– fuck, just like that,” he grits, looking down at you as the length of his cock disappears past your lips.

Matt’s devilish grin grows larger as he chuckles at Frank’s comment, at the way it’s an effort to force the words out. “Keep doing what you’re doing angel,” he coos, “Frank loves it. Don’t ‘ya, pretty boy?”

Frank answers him with a grunt, caressing your face as you bat your eyelashes up at him, thumb running over the contour of your jaw. His breath comes out in tiny, sharp exhales, mouth slightly parted as he loses himself at the sight of you on your knees, unable to form any coherent words.

Frank hisses as Matt’s free hand reaches for his chin, pulling him forward before his palm connects with Frank’s cheek. Matt’s voice changes instantaneously as it dips an octave, words searing the back of your neck with an authority he commands only in his red suit. “I asked you a question, Castle.”

“Huh— y-yeah, Red. Yeah.” Your eyes roll back as Frank cups your cheeks with both hands, fingers resting behind your ears. He thrusts into your mouth, groaning as he stretches you out, hitting the back of your throat with ease. “You take it so… fuckin’ well, pretty girl. Makin’ me feel like I could cum down your throat already…”

Matt presses a kiss to your temple, relishing in the thick scent of your arousal coating his tongue, the steady pace of Frank’s heartbeat echoing in his ears. His lips brush past your face, smile curling against your ear. “Doing so good, sweetheart,” he purrs, “no one does it like you.” He straightens his back, fisting his cock as he moves in front of you, nudging Frank to the side as he beckons you with his fingers. “My turn.”

Frank shudders as he slips out of your mouth with a pop, wiping absentmindedly at the string of saliva still connecting you to him. Matt’s abs tense as you seal your mouth around his cock, his control over the two of you lapsing momentarily as the wetness and warmth of your mouth threatens to take him over the edge in a heartbeat. You get to work, head bobbing up and down his length, stopping only to flatten your tongue at the base of his dick, before retracting to suck on his sensitive, fat head. 

Frank, somehow painfully harder than before, chokes out a moan as your hand moves along his spit-slick shaft, stroking him languidly. He reaches down to grab your ass, kneading your flesh in his large hand, spreading you open with the hopes of tracing his fingers in your slick. “Obedient lil’ thing, aren’t ‘ya?”

Matt takes your hand away from Frank’s cock, interlacing your fingers with his before flattening your palm against his abs, moving it in short strokes so you can feel every bit of hard muscle flex underneath. He knows how much his abs turn you on, how it makes you squirm when you feel them go taut with pleasure. In an instant, he smacks Frank’s wandering hand away, scowling at the scent of your arousal coating his fingertips in an angelic sheen. As your eyes flutter shut, focusing on Matt and not the dull ache in your jaw, Frank yelps, staggering backwards a step. 

You look to your right, at the sound of Frank’s shaky breath, at the sound of the whimpers coming from his mouth. Frank Castle, the big bad Punisher, trembling?

Oh.

Your knees go weak as you see Matt, hand enclosed around Frank’s cock, listening to the pounding in Frank’s chest as he squeezes. Frank twitches underneath his grip, hands curling into fists as he’s not sure where to put them, not sure how to beg for Matt to let go.

“You touch her when I say you can, you got it?” Matt growls, relaxing his grip only to card his fingers through your hair. 

Frank nods, pressing his lips together as he loosens a heavy breath. “I’ve permission to jerk m’self, Red? Gettin’ unbearable here.”

Matt runs his tongue over his teeth, eyebrows furrowing as he contemplates being nice for a second. He gives Frank his answer without further thought. “You may.”

As Frank starts to fuck his hand, thumb smearing the precum leaking from his tip, Matt tilts his chin down to flash you the sweetest smile, adoration glinting in his words as he begins to thrust into your mouth. “You can take it deeper than that, angel, I know you can. You’re such a good girl for us.”

You don’t care about the spit dribbling out the sides of your mouth, or the way you intermittently gag as Matt’s cock somehow reaches impossibly further with every snap of his hips. Your eagerness is their undoing, because Matt takes Frank’s hand to place it on your neck, calloused fingers brushing against the column of your throat. 

It’s at this gesture that your pussy floods, thighs becoming sticky, and even more so as Matt’s words drip with honeyed venom. “Feel how deep she’s taking me, Castle?”

You know Matt’s maneuvered Frank’s fingertips to locate the bulge in your throat, because Frank swallows thickly, only able to nod in agreement.

Matt bares his teeth as he scrapes the back of your throat. “Think you could fuck her pretty mouth the same way I can, hm?”

Frank’s nostrils merely flare, a meagre response.

Matt offers him a mirthless laugh. “Yeah, didn’t think so.”

With a half-hearted moan you push them to face each other, bringing them as close to your face as possible. You position yourself underneath them, stabilising yourself with one hand each wrapped around the base of their throbbing erections. You take turns deepthroating them, mouth swapping from cock to cock, revelling in the almost-pornographic sounds tumbling from their lips. Angling them even closer together, so close their thighs are pressed against each other, you focus on jerking them with the lightest of wrist flicks. As you keep their pleasure going with your hands, your mouth moves to suck on their balls, taking them both into your mouth as gently as possible. 

The noises turn from grunts into groans, praises into curses, dirty nothings into prayer. Admissions of ‘Sweetheart, fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck’ and your name whispered like a mantra spur you on to go further, to see what other noises you can draw from them. 

You’re licking both their cocks now, pressing them against each other, tongue flattening across both shafts, making its way up to lick idle circles on their leaking heads. 

Then, as if something’s possessed you, something that desperately wants to give and give and give, you take both of them in your mouth at the same time. Matt tips his head back with a howl, Frank reaches for your hair to find purchase – anything he can grab onto – but you ignore their stutters, their sobs of gratification. 

It comes out weakly from the back of his throat. 

“Baby…” Frank moans, hips bucking forward into your mouth, rubbing senselessly against Matt on your tongue. You look up at him innocently – well, as innocent as you can with two cocks in your mouth.

Matt pants in between his words, threading his fingers through the crown of your hair. “Frank’s gonna cum, and so am I. You get that pretty face of yours ready, okay angel?”

The tears sting your eyes as you nod, each of your hands resting on the plane of their stomachs, lips stretching large to fit them in as best as you can. It’s sweet agony, blowing them like this, but relief sets in as they pull out with a groan, hips rutting as their cum spills onto your face in thick, messy ropes. It’s warm as it coats your skin, the salty taste of it evident on your outstretched tongue. 

It’s a wordless exchange as they cum harder than they ever have… on their favourite canvas, on the one place they haven’t released on yet. 

Until now.

tags {x} @stress--relief @mindidjarin @itwasthereaminuteago @mattmurdocksscars

[ughlantsov]

Just Go To Sleep - First Night

Rating: Gen || Chapter Word Count: 1176 Chapter Content Warnings: sharing a bed trope, slow burn

Just Go To Sleep Masterlist || Next || AO3 Work Link

Year of the OTP Event: August Prompt "AU of Your Choice" @yearoftheotpevent

Your back hurts. Janna, your back hurts. You roll onto your other side for what feels like the millionth time in the two hours you’ve been trying to sleep on Silco’s god-forsaken couch. Your shoulders ache, your spine is shouting at you in a dull, stinging vibrato, and the sandman won’t visit you so long as you have such a pain. This isn’t going to work.

Your blanket lands on the office floor with a quiet sigh, huffing indignantly as you march over it to Silco’s quarters. The door is even quieter than you are as you turn the handle and peek in, and you’re surprised that it’s unlocked. Perhaps Silco left it that way in case you needed him, lucky for you.

Silco’s room is pitch black, such that you can’t see what you may run into, causing you to stumble several times. It takes a few seconds before your eyes adjust and you can see the bed and the outline of Silco’s body as he sleeps softly on his side.

Now, how to proceed… you’re in here but what do you do? Wake him up and ask for a better sleeping spot? Ask to sleep in his bed with him? Just crawl into his bed? 

Thinking, you mindlessly start towards Silco, listening to the sound of his steady breathing as you inch forward, slowly, carefully, quietly… until you run into the dresser. Your poor big toe catches on the stubby wooden leg and it sends you reeling, cracking your forehead into the rest of the hulking piece of furniture. You’ve never thought dressers were more ridiculous in your entire life.

Clutching your throbbing foot in one hand and your forehead in the other you tumble down to the floor in a much larger crash, but you’d kind of given up on being quiet when you loudly collided with the dresser.

A sigh erupts from the bed and a Silco sits up, taking off an eyepatch that one can only assume is for his molten red eye. That eye glows in the darkness of the room and you can feel the heat of his glare boring through you.

“I don't think you could have been any louder.” You’d be embarrassed if you weren’t so caught off-guard by the much deep, dark timbre of Silco’s voice. It’s a rough growl, gravelly in all seconds that it rings out, and you can practically hear its diaphragmatic origins by the way it rumbles. Your shock does not go unnoticed to Silco, and he scoffs at your stillness.

“Never heard of morning voice?” he asks, and that same growlish tone gives you a tingle on the back of your neck. Before you can answer his question, Silco is out of bed and flipping on the light switch.

“What do you need?” He sounds less annoyed than you thought he would have, but maybe he just isn’t awake enough to feel or convey that emotion yet. He’s still holding his eyepatch, fidgeting the strap between his thumb and forefinger with slow, almost deliberate twirls.

Silco looks at you, expecting an answer, but you only manage to sort of dumbly look at him, still a little surprised with yourself for being in Silco’s bedroom. His eyebrow arches.

“Um, the couch is really uncomfortable and I’m having trouble sleeping.” His eyebrow arches still. “And, er, I know it’s rude to ask since you’re already offering me space but I do work a full-day tomorrow and I was just wondering if you had any other place I could sleep?” You chew on your lip and try to maintain eye contact with Silco, it usually helps when asking for something, otherwise he doesn’t quite take you seriously. You watch carefully for any tell-tale signs on his face, a quirk of the lips, the slightest twitch of his eye, a clench or unclench of his jaw, or perhaps an unarching of the eyebrow. Nothing so far, Silco only gives you a quick look up and down, as if scanning your body for any malicious intentions. And then that eyebrow relaxes, taking away from some of the wrinkles on his forehead as it rests just above his sea-green eye.

“I know you can’t sleep,” he grumbles, “I can hear you tossing and turning in there.” Silco puts a hand on his hip, thinking, and almost entirely dismissing your red face. “You aren’t the only one missing sleep.”

You can’t help but recall the times that you’d switched your position on the couch, and you realize you were quite loud. Between pillow moving, body and limb shifting, and annoyed groaning, it’s no wonder you kept Silco up. Wait, was he awake when you first came into his room?

After a few more seconds of thought, Silco sighs. “You can sleep in here or in the bar,” he says matter-of-factly, quickly adding, “though I imagine you have no intentions of requesting the bar.”

You imagine going down there while it’s likely still just barely active, a few drunkards taking their own naps, waking up to your boots melted into the booze-sticky floor. Of course you’d have to be in your day clothes, no way you can be clad in “pajamas” in there.

Apparently, your displeasure with the idea of sleeping in the bar is evident on your face and there is a wordless exchange as Silco invites you to sit on the bed. He disappears into a closet, presumably to get any extra bedware you may need. And despite your chill-fueled desire–something you’ve recently acquired as you realize how chilled Silco keeps his room–you don’t slip under the covers. You can see where Silco was before you rudely interrupted his attempt at sleeping and you feel uncomfortable with the idea of shifting his pillows from the middle of the bed to one side, so you instead wait for Silco to move his own spot over.

The man comes back with a lot of pillows, a pile stacked so high you can barely see his eyes over it. They fall unceremoniously onto the bed, some falling onto the ground as well, which you quickly pick up and toss to the pile.

“Are we building a pillow fort or something?” you ask, a joke you regret making as Silco gives you a tired glare; he’s beginning to wake up enough to feel and express annoyance.

“Get whatever pillows you need to sleep on and get in.” Ignoring your comedy genius, Silco gestures to the bed and, to avoid making him more sour (and to escape the cold), you hurry your ass up, grabbing one pillow and slipping under the covers.

Without another word, Silco climbs in after you and begins taking the pillows piled on the bed and situating them between the two of you. It makes more sense than a pillow fort. 

Once he’s checked that the pillow wall is secure, Silco turns the light off and rolls very much deliberately to face away from you.

“I’ll see you in the morning.”

“It is morning.”

“Just go to sleep.”

[ughlantsov]

Thank you for 1,000 followers! <3

(Dang, y'all work quick. I posted that teaser and immediately got 3 more followers, just pushing me over the finish line! Thank you!)

As promised, I bring you some Silco/reader smut in the form of soft Silco and virgin reader. I cannot believe I have hit this milestone and I am thankful for every single one of y'all. I'm so glad that I took that leap last year, sharing my writing online for the first time ever.

Practice & Patience

[Explicit] AO3

Silco x f!reader, Smut, virgin!reader, first time, vaginal fingering, mirror sex, soft silco, ending left open for a possible part two!

Word count: 5.5k

You admit to Silco that he's your first. He responds just as well as you could have ever hoped he could.

"I need to tell you something!" you blurt out.

Silco's movements above you still. His arms cage you in as he hovers over you on the red velvet couch of his office. His breath is warm on your neck where he had been sucking a mark into your skin.

Lips slightly parted to let out shallow breaths, you look up at him, heart hammering in your chest.

He lifts his head, ocean green and volcanic orange eyes rising to meet yours.

"What is it?"

His voice comes out shaky, as if he'd been running. You can see the way his chest rises and falls with each labored breath.

"I…"

There's still time.

"I…"

There's still time to make up something.

You chew on your bottom lip.

You can't tell him the truth!

The little voice in your head is desperate now, practically screaming.

What if he rejects you? What if he casts you aside?

You squeeze your eyes shut, willing the thoughts away. You stay like that for what feels like hours when you feel something warm on your cheek.

Eyes flutter open to see Silco's hand cradling your face, a look of concern etched into every scar, every line.

"You can tell me," he whispers. "It's okay."

Your throat bobs and you nod meekly. Taking a deep breath in through your nose, you steady yourself.

"I've… never done this before."

Silco's eyebrows furrow slightly.

"I've never been with anyone before," you clarify.

The voice in your head quiets, waiting for Silco's reaction.

"I see…" he says thoughtfully.

"You're disappointed—"

"No."

He says it with such finality. His other hand comes up to mirror the first so that he's holding you in place, dual-toned eyes peering into yours.

"Far from it. Purge that thought from your mind this instant." It would almost sound like a command if it wasn't so warm.

His thumbs move back and forth on your skin, a slow reassuring rhythm as he looks at you with such fondness, eyebrows curling inwards as he takes in your expression. 

"Thank you."

It's your turn for your eyebrows to furrow.

"Why?"

"For trusting me with such information."

He leans forward, brushing his scarred lips to your forehead. Your eyes flutter closed briefly before staring back up at him.

"You don't…" Your throat bobs again. "You don't mind?"

"Why would I?"

Why wouldn't he?

"Because—" The words tumble out of your mouth before you can stop them, a flood that has been unleashed behind a dam decades in the making. "Because you probably want someone with more experience. You probably want someone who knows what they're doing. You probably— you probably don't want to deal with teaching someone how to do everything. You probably—"

Silco cuts you off, the pad of his forefinger pressing on your lips.

"Why don't I tell you what I want?"

You nod, lips still held shut by his finger.

"I want you," he starts. "And I want you as you are."

Warmth blooms in your chest at his words. You can do nothing but stare silently up at him as he speaks.

"I want you to do whatever is comfortable for you. Your comfort is paramount to me."

Finally, he releases your mouth, his hand returning to cradle your face. Your voice comes out as a squeak, unsure and scared.

"Even if I'm not comfortable with… anything?"

He nods.

"I can be happy with just this," he whispers. "After all," he adds with a chuckle, "It's been decades since I've been with someone. Just this has been a pleasant experience for me."

You stare into each other's eyes in silence for a few minutes more, savoring the closeness such a confession brings. After a moment, he plants a tender kiss to your cheek before guiding you to sit next to him on the couch. He holds your hand in his, gently squeezing it.

"I will be here if and when you are ready for more."

"It's not that I don't want to," you're quick to clarify. "It's just that I…I'm scared I won't be… any good at it."

"My dear," Silco says as he squeezes your hand again. "Like all things, it simply takes practice." He tucks a stray hair behind your ear. "Practice and patience."

You look up at him—your powerful, beautiful, cunning boyfriend—and wonder how you ever got so lucky. He looks down at you with a warm expression, the slight flush to his cheeks from your heavy make out session slowly fading away.

He wraps an arm around your shoulder, pulling you in close. You allow yourself to be held, nuzzling your face to the crook of his neck.

It's not that you've never wanted to be with someone. It just took you a very long time to find someone you felt comfortable enough to have as your first. But now that you've gone this long, you worry you've missed out on an experience that seems so commonplace.

Unconsciously, your fingers tighten their hold on Silco's vest as the worries start up again. When Silco's hand, warm and reassuring, rests over yours, it takes you a second to react.

He looks down at you, holding your hand in place.

"Can I show you something?" He whispers.

You nod.

He pulls your hand up, leading it so that it rests on his neck. You blink in confusion.

"Feel that?" 

You purse your lips, concentrating on the sensation of his skin under your palm.

"My heart is racing," he chuckles. "I would be lying if I told you I wasn't a little bit nervous as well."

That gets your attention.

"You? Nervous?"

He shrugs.

"I'm still human, after all. A man out of practice with this sort of thing."

You feel the tightness in your chest ease at his words. His free hand comes up to rest along your jawline. His voice is soft as the wind when he speaks.

"We'll both take it slow… when you're ready."

You stare up at him, your eyes swimming as they dart back and forth between cooling green and warming red irises. Finally, you nod.

He smiles before wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into an embrace.

As you cling to him, surrounded by his scent of cigars and oak cologne, you feel the lingering effects of his previous ministrations bubble up again. Heat starts to pool in your belly and your heart starts to drum a little faster. Voice as quiet as a mouse, you speak into Silco's shoulder, too nervous to look up at him.

"What if I'm ready… now?"

He looks down at you, bringing his forefinger to tuck under your chin, pulling you gently to look up at him.

"Are you sure?"

You pull your lips between your teeth, an old nervous habit you've never been able to break. Finally, you nod.

He smiles and presses another tender kiss to your forehead before leaning forward, bringing his lips to your ear.

"Then come with me."

He stands from the couch, offering his hand. You take it and he leads you to the door that will take you to his quarters. You'd been in there before, but only briefly when you needed to use his bathroom.

He starts to lead you toward the bed and you pause in the doorway.

"Don't worry," he coos. "We're only going to talk first." 

He sits down at the foot of the bed, one hand gently patting the spot next to him. Anxiously, you move to join him. When you look at his face, you can see that he's trying to choose his words very carefully. 

"What had you been comfortable with previously?"

"Oh, ummm…" You shift on the bed. "Just what we had been doing, I guess."

He hums in thought.

Kissing, french kissing, some grabbing and fondling but not much else. Silco had been very attentive to what you were comfortable doing, never pushing for anything more than you were ready for.

You had made it that far with a previous partner before. You had even managed to get naked with them, but the moment was as over as soon as it began. The pressure was more than you could handle, so you quickly pulled your clothes back on and ran out of the room. Your partner at the time was less understanding. It ended your relationship.

You haven't been naked with a partner since.

"And what about with yourself?"

You blink.

"What do you mean?"

"How much have you done by yourself?"

Heat rushes to your cheeks when you realize what he's asking. Your words come out hurried and clumsily.

"Oh! That? Um, I don't know. I guess— I guess I've tried a few times, but I've never managed to ummm… to, you know…"

"Orgasm," he offers simply. There's no judgement in his tone, no patronizing. He's merely stating facts.

You nod meekly in agreement.

"I see…" he says, more to himself than to you.

Oh gods, he's changing his mind, isn't he? He thought I surely had done more than that and now he's regretting ever being my boyfriend.

But then you look at him to find him smirking, something almost sinister behind dual-toned eyes.

"You must forgive me," he chuckles. "I found myself getting excited…" His voice drops lower as he leans toward you, bringing a large hand to cradle your jawline. "I'm going to delight in corrupting you."

Yours eyes widen and suddenly his lips are on yours in a hungry kiss, wasting no time as his tongue pushes through the part of your mouth to roll over your tongue. You return the kiss in kind, humming into his mouth. You can feel warmth blooming in your stomach, traveling down your abdomen to settle between your legs.

He brings his lips to kiss your cheek, trailing down to your neck just like he had on the couch moments before. Your breath gets caught in your throat, your eyes fluttering closed as his hands grab at your waist, pushing you down until you're lying on your back on the bed.

His lips continue their journey down your neck, over your collarbone. With each kiss, he pushes your blouse further and further down. You watch with foggy eyes, a small whimper at your lips, as his lifts his eyes to meet yours in silent question. Your throat bobs.

You nod.

He smiles before bringing his hands up, long fingers working deftly to unbutton your top. With each button, you feel more of the chill air of the room and feel your nipples stiffen underneath your bra, your lips parted as you hold your breath. Silco continues to trail kisses down your form, his lips following the downward part of your shirt.

A kiss to your sternum.

The valley of your breasts.

Your stomach.

With each warm kiss, you can feel your body growing hotter and your breath getting shallower. When finally he parts the fabric to reveal your bra, you can't help but bite down on your lower lip.

"Beautiful," he hums, eyes roving your chest before lifting to meet your gaze. "Absolutely beautiful."

Your eyebrows curl inward and you reach out for him with your hands. Immediately, he leans down, lips meeting yours halfway as you free yourself from the sleeves of your shirt, grabbing at him to pull him closer.

You want to feel the weight of him on you.

To feel his body press against yours.

To feel his warmth.

And his firmness.

His skin on your skin.

As you kiss, your hands try to work the knot of his tie, fingers fumbling clumsily with the complicated knot he had chosen. He laughs against your lips before undoing it himself one-handed and casting it to the floor. Soon, his vest and shirt are discarded as well, a small pile of fabric growing on the hardwood.

When he presses his bare chest to yours, you can't help but let out a gasp. 

He's so warm! And so… so lean.

Your hands explore his back, pads of your fingers tracing over old scars and toned muscles that dance under your palms. Silco's hands wrap around you and you lift your torso, allowing him room to work the clasps of your bra. He seems to get it undone in no time at all, and you feel a tinge of panic as you feel him start to pull the band away.

"Wait!" You gasp out, breaking off the kiss.

He freezes in place, hands still on your bra, but your modesty intact.

His eyes meet yours, his kiss swollen lips parted slightly.

"Are you okay?" He asks and the gentleness in his voice sends warmth to blossom in the cage of your ribs.

"Yes, I'm fine," you gasp out, gathering yourself. "Just… umm…" You reach behind your back, taking the bra straps from him. "Let me do it."

He nods silently, pulling his hands away as he backs up to give you room. His eyes never leave your face, as if he's waiting for your approval to look down at your body.

Despite feeling warm all over, you feel goosebumps prickling on your arms as you slowly—very slowly—remove your bra.

Your shoulders slouch forward as you do, like it'll give you more precious seconds of coverage. Taking a deep breath, you finally lower the garment, your nipples hard from the cool air of the room. You drape your bra next to you, eyes pinned to Silco's. He continues to study your face, waiting. 

You nod again.

You think that Silco will lower his eyes to look at your breasts, but he surprises you by instead leaning forward and capturing your lips in another kiss. His hands grab your waist, palm smoothing up to your ribs, his thumbs a ghost of a touch to the lower curve of your breasts, pulling a small gasp from you as you arch your back.

When finally he breaks off the kiss, you see his good eye blown out, the green almost entirely engulfed by the dark sea of obsidian. And when he lowers his eyes to gaze upon you, it's with a reverence that makes you feel almost sacred.

A small sigh escapes his scarred lips at the sight of you. A look of utter awe written into his softening features, the harsh lines of his scars relaxing as he brings a hand up to palm the weight of your breast.

Before you can say anything, he's leaning forward again, this time capturing your nipple between his lips.

"Ah!" 

No one's ever done that to you before. And here Silco is, his tongue pressing against your stiffened bud, lapping at it slowly as his hand massages your other breast.

You throw your head back in disbelief.

I didn't know that could feel so good!

Your hands find their way into Silco's hair, nails digging into his scalp as he gives your other breast the same treatment. 

"Ah! Silco…" you sigh into his bedroom, content to let him do whatever he pleases to you.

As he continues to kiss and suck and lick your tits, you can feel an ache growing between your legs. You press them together but it does little to soothe the sensation. After a few more minutes, you find you can no longer wait, desperate for relief.

"Silco?"

He lifts his head, good eyebrow ticked up.

"Can you… will you…" You swallow down your nerves.

It's now or never.

"Will you please… touch me?"

His good eye flutters closed at that, a long, heavy sigh pushing past scarred lips. When he opens his eye to meet your gaze again, there's a fire growing behind both irises.

"It would be my pleasure," he growls, shifting on the bed so he's hovering above you.

You feel so small underneath him and that feeling sends more heat to pool between your legs, something about his towering figure making you want to do anything he desires.

His hands find your hips, heat of his palms warm even through the fabric of your pants. And then, you feel it: his left hand snaking its way along your thigh, dragging slowly against you, getting closer and closer to the part of your legs.

He turns his hand, fingertips a ghost of a touch along your inner thighs, trailing higher and higher toward your clothed sex. And then—

He brings his hand up to cup your mound, the tips of his ring and middle fingers over your entrance while the heel of his palm presses to your mound. Your hips jump at the touch and you can't help the small gasp at the contact.

"Shhh… it's okay," he coos. "I've got you." He rubs in a small, circular motion over your pants and you let out a whimper at the friction. "I'll be gentle."

He continues to move his hand against you, fingertips massaging your clothed entrance as his palm grinds into you.

More.

You whimper incoherently.

Harder.

He continues and you feel as if you're going to burst. But at the same time, you need more. You need him closer. You need him so close that he's inside you.

"Silco, please!" You cry out, louder than you intended. "Oh gods, I want to feel your skin on mine."

But that's not all.

"And—" you gasp, eyebrows curled inwards. "I want to feel you. I want to see you."

That gets his attention.

He lets out a low hum, something between a dark chuckle and an animalistic growl. His hand leaves your sex and you almost cry out at the loss. But then his hands are at the fly of your pants and panic sets in again.

"Wait!"

He freezes again.

Is he gonna hate me for all these interruptions?

He silently answers your unspoken question by giving you the gentlest, warmest smile you've ever seen on him. 

You're at a loss for words, not sure what exactly you want or how to go about it. When you say nothing at all, Silco fills in the gaps.

"Perhaps…" he offers, "I can go first."

Yeah, that… that sounds good.

You nod meekly.

At that, he pulls back from the bed, getting to his feet. Bending at the waist, he takes his boots and socks off first, carefully placing them on the floor before straightening back up.

The four gold buttons on the front of his pants are undone slowly, a small countdown to the main event.

Snap.

Snap.

Snap.

Snap.

You prop yourself onto your elbows to watch, enraptured, feeling very blessed for what you're about to witness.

He lowers the panel of his pants to reveal a dark maroon pair of boxers, which he lowers with care. Your eyes widen as he tugs the pants and underwear lower and lower, his erection twitching as it comes into view.

When Silco's eyes lift to meet yours, he smirks. It's at the moment you realize your mouth is hanging open and you can feel a bit of drool pooling in your mouth.

You close your mouth and gulp down your obvious excitement.

Equal parts excitement and intimidation.

He's big.

Not that you had much frame of reference before, but he was much bigger than the only other cock you had seen in your life. 

There's… no way that can fit inside me.

Panic starts to set in again and it must be written all over your expression because the smirk is wiped clean off Silco's face as he brings a hand up to cradle your face.

"Hey," he whispers, trying to turn your attention away from his—frankly monstrous—erection. "I did this so you can feel comfortable undressing, too." His thumb rubs soft patterns into your cheek. "We won't be doing anything with me tonight."

You blink and look up at your partner, thoroughly confused.

"Wait, what?"

He shakes his head, trying to recover.

"What I mean to say is: we're focusing on your pleasure tonight," he clarifies.

"But—" You bring your hand up to mirror his. "But I want to make you feel good, too."

He smiles, chuckling.

"Believe me, dove, you do."

He plants a tender kiss to your forehead.

"There will be plenty of time for that, I promise." He pulls back, resting his hands on your hips. Ocean green and volcanic orange eyes find yours. "May I?"

Your eyes dart down to your pants and back up at him. Half-clothed, but you already feel completely naked. 

But if his hand felt that good over my pants, just imagine…

You lick your lips and take a deep breath.

"Yes."

He smiles.

Lowering down, he undoes the laces of your boots with care before tugging them off you. When he starts to pull your socks out, you can't help the small giggle as his fingers ghost over the soles of your feet. He chuckles at your sounds and you can feel your nerves melting away.

But then his hands are working your zipper and you can feel your muscles tensing in response. You squeeze your eyes shut as if that will help, waiting for whatever disgusted sound Silco is sure to make upon seeing you fully naked.

But the sound never comes.

Instead, as you feel the crisp air hit your exposed core, you only hear the shuffling of your pants as they're pulled off your legs. When you dare to open your eyes, you see Silco carefully folding them and placing them on a nearby chair.

You let out a laugh.

"What?" He asks with a smile.

"Nothing." You smile back. "You're just so… sweet."

He steps forward, his eyes trained on your face.

"Only for you, dear."

Flush creeps into your cheeks and suddenly you feel like a lovesick teenager with their first crush. Oh, the things Silco does to you with just a few words.

But then, his eyes are lowering.

Down your face, along your neck, drinking in the image of your heaving breasts, down your navel, until finally settling on your sex.

You feel your walls clench around nothing and immediately wonder if he could see it. Your cheeks turn bright red at the thought.

Silco stays silent as he takes in your naked form, his eyes savoring each inch of your exposed flesh. He lifts his mismatched eyes to yours and whispers.

"You're perfect."

A sigh of relief escapes your lips.

While the initial rush from his touch before has cooled off, interrupted by those brief moments of panic, you can feel your desire for him build again. And as if reading your mind, he leans forward to lock lips with you again, his hands in your hair as he pulls you toward himself.

You're about to deepen the kiss when Silco breaks it off abruptly, stepping away from the bed.

Oh no, did I do something wrong?

He pads over to the corner of the room, away from you.

Oh gods, what did I do?

But then, he's dragging a large full-length mirror toward the bed. The wheels squeak along the hardwood until he pauses, adjusting it so that it faces the foot of the bed. You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror and turn away, embarrassed.

"What are you doing?" You bring one hand to cover your chest and another to hide your mound. "Isn't it kind of early for… kinky stuff?"

"Relax," he coos, stepping around the mirror to join you. "I had an idea."

He walks around the bed, then starts to climb on behind you. The mattress shifts under his weight and you watch, intrigued, in the mirror's reflection.

He sits behind you, bringing his legs around to hug yours. You can feel his erection press against your back and it sends a sweet tingle up your spine. His hands then come to rest on your hips, holding you in place.

Another sweet thrill shoots through you as you realize this is the first time you've ever felt a naked erection. You'd had felt them through your ex's pants before, but never skin to skin contact.

It sends heat to flush your cheeks.

"While learning how to please your partner is indeed important," he starts, "Knowing what you enjoy is paramount." 

He brings one hand up to yours, slowly beckoning you to lower your arm. With a little hesitation, you do, slowly revealing your breasts to the mirror's reflection again. 

"How can you communicate your needs and desires…" 

His free hand moves your hair away to expose your neck as he brings his lips up to your ear.

"If you don't even know what they are?"

He makes a very good point, one you have no ability to debate with how you've become putty in his hands. 

His other hand finds yours, gently resting over the back of yours. 

"Show me," he whispers. "Show me how you've touched yourself."

Oh.

That's the reason for the mirror.

It's not for Silco's benefit—though he does benefit as well—but for yours. So you can see exactly what to do and how to do it.

"I…" you stare at your reflection, feeling uneasy at having to see your body on display. Your hand refuses to move, frozen in fear. "I don't know if I can… with the mirror…"

He nods, pressing his lips to your temple.

"Then just focus on me."

His hand tucks under your chin, turning you toward him. Your eyes flutter closed as he claims your lips, his tongue quick to part them. As his tongue rolls over yours, you feel that same ache growing at the apex of your legs. And you know in your heart and in your mind that the only way to relieve it is to…

Your hand snakes down your thigh, inching toward your sex. Silco's hand on yours follows, along for the ride. When you cup your mound, you hum into Silco's mouth, something wonderfully sinful about the position you've found yourself in.

You press the heel of your palm into yourself, but the grinding—even with Silco's hand over yours—does little to soothe the building ache. You let out a frustrated whimper, breaking off the kiss.

"I— I don't know what I'm doing." 

Your cheeks redden from embarrassment, your years of inexperience looming over you like a storm cloud.

"Here…" Silco's hand over your presses, guiding your hand up, a soft pressure at your fingertips. As he does, you feel warmth and wetness as you brush over your folds. You gasp at the sensation as Silco continues to guide your fingers up until—

"Ah!"

Your eyes fly open as you feel a much more powerful sensation between your legs, a part of you much more sensitive than your folds. 

He growls behind you.

"There we go," he coos. His thumb and pinky press around your hand, lifting it, before pressing your fingers into the same spot again. And just like before, lightning courses through you from that singular point outward.

His breath is hot and heavy in your hair and you feel rather than hear his words.

"Allow me to show you."

You nod, pulling your hand away to grip the sheets beside you. Chin tucked, you watch as Silco parts your folds with his ring and pointer finger, exposing more of yourself. Then, his middle finger comes up to swipe between the other two, forcing another gasp out of you.

"Ah!"

He does it again and again, swiping his finger over that tender spot. How one tiny little bud can feel such strong pleasure baffles you and you find yourself rocking your hips with each press of his fingers to it, chasing the sensation. Then, he starts to rub circles into it and you throw your head back over his shoulder.

"Oh gods!"

His free arm wraps around your middle, holding you close to him. The hand not clinging to the sheets shoots up to hold him by his hair, fingers grabbing anything to keep from floating away.

Your chest heaves and you pull your knees apart, spreading your legs further as Silco continues to work you with his fingers. Mouth hanging open as your breath comes out in soft puffs, you've never felt so good before.

"Ready for more?" Silco growls behind you.

Your eyes fly open to stare at Silco in the mirror in disbelief. But then his fingers are leaving your clit and gliding down your folds, gathering your arousal as he does. You watch, enamored, as he starts to massage your entrance, easing you open.

It's a sensation you've felt before, one that you can only describe as the need to be filled. To feel something in you. You'd never felt comfortable enough—even just by yourself—to do anything about it. But as Silco draws out your pleasure, you feel you finally might be ready.

"Silco?" You gasp out.

"Hmm?"

"I've…" you gulp down your nerves. "I've never done this before."

He nods, the arm around your middle squeezing you in a reassuring embrace. 

"We'll take it slow," he coos. "One finger at a time."

That sends heat to pool between your legs. Silco continues to massage circles into your entrance, his dual-toned eyes staring into your pleasure-ridden features in the reflection.

"Ready?" He asks, voice even and calming.

You lock eyes with him in the mirror, your lips parted as your breath quickens.

You nod.

You feel him breach your entrance, his middle finger pushing into you. Letting out a sigh, you can feel him drag against your walls. And then, he's doing something with his finger inside you and it causes your hips to jump up, a startled cry pushed past your lips.

"Ah! Silco!"

He grins against your temple, his voice practically vibrating with excitement.

"Would you like another?"

"I— I can barely handle this one," you gasp out. 

He hums. "Oh, but it gets even better."

Your hips chase his finger, moving on its own accord. The sounds his hand makes are lewd, sending more heat to settle in your abdomen. With each delicious curl of his finger, you can feel your arousal building, the sheets underneath you warm and wet.

"Better than this?'

He chuckles darkly behind you.

"Oh, my dear…" he drags his middle finger slowly out of you, massaging your entrance once more. "You have so much to learn."

Then, he's pushing two fingers into you. Your walls stretch to accommodate him and your toes curl at the feeling of fullness. You can feel something building within you, feeling as if you're about to explode into a million pieces. 

"Silco, I think— I think I'm going to—"

You can't get the words out, too blissed out by the curling of his fingers inside you, reaching parts you didn't know you had. 

And then his thumb is pressing into that tiny bud, the one that had you feeling lightning through your veins. He curls his fingers within you as he massages your clit, practiced fingers pulling mewls and whimpers from you. 

You feel warmth growing between your legs, somewhere deep under the surface. You don't know how you do it, but you clamp your walls around his digits, squeezing them and elevating the friction of his hand. 

Head tossed, cheeks flushed, chest heaving, you chase the feeling, your hips rocking in time with his hand.

More.

You whimper and Silco hums behind you.

More.

His free hand lifts to palm the weight of your breast, fingertips wrapping around your sensitive nipple and pinching.

Harder.

Your knuckles turn white as you grip the sheets and Silco's hair, every muscle in your body overwhelmed from Silco's ministrations.

Faster.

The unholy sounds of your pleasure fill the room, drowned out only by the heavy thumping of your heartbeat in your ear and Silco's shallow breathing behind you.

And then —

You let out a startled, incoherent cry as you're overcome with pleasure, radiating outward from your core, your walls fluttering around Silco's diligent fingers as a feeling of ecstasy you've never experienced before floods your senses. You can feel it not only between your legs but in the soles of your feet and behind your eyes, like your entire body—every last cell—is crying out in unison:

Yes!

The pleasure seems to come in waves and as the seconds pass, the waves start to calm. Your body seems to thrum from the feeling and soon you feel your muscles going completely slack as if you're about to collapse. Your chest heaves as you try to catch your breath, overwhelmed by your climax and slowly giving into the unfamiliar feeling of your afterglow.

You feel high; weightless and a little bit silly.

Silco pulls his fingers from you and it elicits a tiny gasp, but then he's cupping your sex, his hand a steady, reassuring warmth pressed against you. 

When finally you open your eyes and lower your chin, you're met with Silco's smug expression in the mirror. You would chide him, but find you have little to no energy to do so. Instead, you offer him a fuckdrunk smile, eyes half-lidded in leftover pleasure.

"I can't believe I waited that long."

You turn your head toward him and he cradles your face with his clean hand.

Leaning forward, Silco presses a tender kiss to your forehead. When he pulls back, you grin up at him.

"What else have I been missing?"

Taglist: @averagecrastinator @mazikomo @writingmysanity @insult-2-injury @ariaud @jennrosefx @ins0mniac-whack @steponmesilco  @sherwood-forests @leave-me-alone-silco @givemebeansnow @aeryntheofficial @dreamyonahill @lostbunn @eurydicethesage @thepineapplesimp @whatisafandom @violet-19999 @juicboxd @sageandberries-png @delta-is-here @beardedladyqueen @mutedwordz @fly-like-egyptian-musk @jennithejester @mrsdelirium @witheringblooddemon

A/N: There's certainly room for more to this! Plenty that reader hasn't done yet. Let me know if you'd be interested in more!

I wrote a part 2!

Join my taglist!

[ughlantsov]

White Picket Fence

Pairing: Billy Russo x Fem!Reader

Summary: Billy and you have to go undercover as a newly married couple in the suburbs, and you’re certain your house is bugged so it’s 24/7 of you two acting like a married couple.

Warnings [18+]: smut, unprotected sex, breeding kink, little bit of wife kink

A/N: I wrote this very quickly so sorry if there’s loads of mistakes, also there might be some more from this AU at some point??

My Masterlist

“Come on sweetheart, cum around my cock.” Your grip on Billy slips, as your mind goes fuzzy, and you lose yourself to the sensation of Billy fucking hard into you. “Nice and tight so I cum inside you.”

Your body is practically folded in half, with your entire pussy exposed to Billy as he thrusts into you.

“You gonna hold my cum inside you sweetheart? Gonna be a good little wife for me and make sure it takes?”

“Yes William, fuck please.” He had chosen to use his full name during this mission, to give him a little anonymity whilst still keeping it easy for you both to remember. No one’s called him William in years - and now you’re crying out his name, begging him to fill you up.

There’s tears prickling in the corners of your eyes, and Billy caresses your face as gently as he can. Your lips meet in an all-consuming kiss, leaving you gasping as you tighten around his cock.

“Please,” you whine, your voice breaking as you plead. “Will, please, give me a baby.” His hips stutter at your words, and he all but growls against your shoulder as he increases his pace, drawing a gasp from you.

A smirk flickers over his lips, though he’s soon gritting his teeth as he continues to pound into you.

“Yeah? You want that? Want me to fill you up to the brim? Knock you up with my baby?” You nod weakly as pleasure floods through your entire body.

“God yes.” You moan softly, before adding in a small voice. “Wanna make my husband a daddy.”

Billy groans at your words, he knows he won’t last much longer - not with imagining coming home to you, his perfect little wife with his baby. Even if it’s only for the few months you two will be on this mission - he’s going to take every opportunity he can get to be inside you. He rubs his fingers in firm circles over your clit, and you clench even harder around him as you orgasm with a whimper of his name. A few more thrusts, then Billy is following behind you, filling your pussy up with his cum.

The two of you lie still for a moment, basking in your highs.

Billy adjusts your hips slightly, ensuring that you’re comfortable, before he lies down over you, his cock still buried inside you. You hum contentedly, and Billy smiles at you.

“Gotta make sure it takes, don’t we sweetheart?” You nod, barely even processing his words, just knowing that it’s Billy so whatever he’s saying will be right for you both. He smooths a large hand over your hair, and your eyes flutter closed as you sigh softly. You wrap your arms around his waist, keeping him pressed close against your body.

It’s several long moments before Billy decides it’s time to move, much to your displeasure. You hold tight onto his waist, shaking your head.

“Sweetheart, I gotta pull out eventually.”

Completely unable to see the logic of his words, you whine quietly, the thought of not being full of him anymore seeming awful to you.

Billy pouts in sympathy, pressing his forehead against yours before he leaves several soft kisses on your lips.

“You gotta let go of me sweetheart. I’m not going far, I promise.” You bite down on your lip, before nodding at him. He presses a chaste kiss to your cheek, as he lifts himself up to pull out of you. The cool air of the room creeps over your body and you whine at the lack of contact with Billy. You cling onto him, preventing him from moving any further away.

“Billy, where you goin’?” He smiles at the sleepy slur to your voice, and the innocence of your question. He leaves another kiss on your face - your forehead this time.

“Gonna clean us up, we’re all messy.” You hum in response, your eyes fluttering closed.

“Like bein’ messy.” Billy laughs softly,

“Maybe, but you won’t like it in the mornin’ sweetheart.” You’re too weak to stop him from walking to the bathroom, and he returns with a warm cloth which he runs gently over your body, taking particular care between your legs.

You keep mumbling his name, in a small needy tone that tugs at Billy’s heartstrings.

He tosses the cloth in the laundry hamper, before sliding into bed beside you. You immediately wrap an arm, and leg, around Billy to pull him closer. With a small smile on his face, Billy wraps an arm around your waist to tug your body over his.

You lie draped completely over Billy’s body, nuzzling your face into the space between his collarbones. Billy’s heartbeat is strong beside your ear, and the fuzzy feeling from earlier still hasn’t faded. Your eyelids are heavy, and you press a tiny kiss to Billy’s chest before sleep begins to drag you away.

“Love you Billy.” You mumble quietly. Finally saying the words you had been so afraid of.

Billy tightens his hold on you. Masquerading as a married couple, Billy had prepared himself to hear those words, and to say them back.

But not like this. Not with you so vulnerable, buried in his arms as you fall asleep.

He presses a kiss to your forehead, before his response is whispered against your hairline.

“I love you too.”

»»---------------------►

Billy Russo Tag List: @blackbirddaredevil23 @restingbitchsblog @tiredbeebo @rafaelakelley @theysayitscrazy @hummelmi @nyx2021 @skybridgerton @dragon-of-winterfell @profoundme444 @misstimeless @booksandbenbarnes

[ughlantsov]

Matt Murdock x Reader x Frank Castle

Literally I don't think anything on this list is SFW, and if you're here then you probably know that

➸ Noises HCs by @itwasthereaminuteago

➸ The Punisher by @foli-vora

➸ stay quiet, baby by @saintmurd0ck

➸ day jobs by @mangotapoica

➸ Stumbling Along The Edge by @americancowgirl19 - #angst

➸ "Absolute filth" by @m0rn1ngst4rr

➸ winner's streak by @saintmurd0ck

➸ Strawberry Surprise by @itwasthereaminuteago

➸ inhale by @saintmurd0ck

➸ a trip upstate by @saintmurd0ck - just you, your boys, and a snow- covered cabin

➸ Please Hold by @itwasthereaminuteago - #smut, #dom!matt

➸ Thots by @mattmurdocksscars @allegra-writes & @stress--relief - #smut, soft!frank and dom!matt

➸ Emergency Security by @undiscovered-horizon - matt and frank save you and protect you

➸ double trouble by @saintmurd0ck - dom!matt & soft!frank

➸ The Proposition by @pedrito-friskito

➸ Frank coming home... by @deviousisms

➸ Friends?! by @mattmurdocksscars - You patch Matt up, until one night he brings a friend, #no romance (yet???)

➸ Poly with Dom!Frank and Matt by @twilightbarnes - The boys are both doms, but in a very different way

➸ Tease Me Before You Please Me by @amhrosina - You, Frank, and Matt go to Paris. That’s literally it.

➸ Ours by @wannabemurdock - matt will always have your back, #smut

➸ "I know for a fact you can be a hell of a lot louder than that." by @itwasthereaminuteago - #voyeurism, a little #murdock v castle

➸ Show Me How Much You Missed Me by @amhrosina - you're overwhelmed and use your safeword, but it scares the boys into not touching you for a week, #smut

➸ Favorite Kind of Trouble by @amhrosina - Frank and you get up to no good at a gala event, and Matt’s enhanced senses can’t help but focus on the pretty sounds you’re making from across the room

➸ Mutual Agreement by @chellestrash - Being friends with both Matt and Frank means that some nights they both end up at your place needing a patch up and a safe place to rest, #fluff

➸ baking with matty & frankie by @chvoswxtch - the boys insist on accompanying you to a baking class, #fluff

#frank castle x reader x matt murdock

[ughlantsov]

Not in this Alone (part 1)

pairing: Frank Castle x Matt Murdock x fem!reader (Fratt x fem!reader)

summary: After a week of stressful, lonely days, your boyfriends take the time to comfort you.

warnings: swearing, brief descriptions of stressful events (items breaking, period symptoms, sickness, etc)

a/n: This is the first half of a comfort fic that I wrote for my love @madschiavelique when she was having a terrible week a bit ago. I hope that you all find comfort in its softness!

w/c: 2.6k

Dropping your bag on the floor, you yanked your shoes off and plodded directly to your bed, planting face down into the mattress with a groan. A floorboard creaked behind you, signaling another presence, but your fatigue outweighed the anxiety you felt. 

“If you’re here to kill me, can you do it in the bathtub? This is a new mattress.” Your words were muffled by the layers of fabric over your face. 

The intruder chuckled deeply, “Not here to kill ya, sweetheart.” 

“Frankie?” You turned your face towards his gravelly voice, keeping the rest of your body pinned to the bed. It had been over a week since you’d seen him—and you weren’t expecting him to be home this soon—but there he was, in all his broad-shouldered glory. Dressed in sweats and a t-shirt, that was definitely not his given the way it stretched over his sculpted abdomen. He looked cozy and soft—clearly having been home for a few hours. 

“Hiya, doll. Your day was that good, huh?” He nodded down to your horizontal position, making you groan and turn your face back into the mattress. Huffing a laugh, he sat down beside you, stroking a large hand over your back. “Today’s your long day, ain’t that right?” 

Nodding tiredly, you hummed in appreciation as he rubbed circles into your tense shoulders. Frank pursed his lips, thinking for a moment before poking you in the side gently. “Get up for a sec, sweet girl. Let’s get ya into some comfier clothes.” 

Gluing your arms around your sides protectively, you whined, not lifting your torso from the bed. Undeterred, Frank pinched your hip before sliding his hand around your smaller figure and flipping you upright into his lap. Pressing a kiss to your cheek, he smirked at your exaggerated pout, “There’s my girl.” 

Shuffling out from underneath you, Frank planted another kiss on your cheek before standing to grab you a sweatshirt rather than the more presentable clothes you had on. Collapsing backward against the pillows, you stared blankly at the ceiling as you waited for Frank to return. After a grueling 11 hour day of traveling to and from your various art classes, you didn’t have the energy to do much else. On top of the sheer amount of time you’d been in public today, you’d been balancing a slew of intense bad luck–from your computer breaking to coming down with a cold. It had not been your week, and you’d been on your own to deal with most of it.

You knew that it wasn’t either of your partners’ faults, just incredibly terrible timing, but Matt had been sleeping at his own apartment all week after late nights at the office, and Frank had been out of town. The past few days had pushed you almost to your breaking point, but nothing actually terrible had happened, so you didn’t feel comfortable asking either of them to come to your aid. You’d been living a cycle of dosing up on medicine, going to class, coming home, and passing out–which was what you planned on doing before Frank interrupted you. 

As if your thoughts had summoned him, he padded back over with two garments in hand. He held up one of his own sweaters and Matt’s favorite Columbia crewneck. “Ok, doll, I wasn’t sure which you’d want, but…hey, what’s wrong?” 

A drop of moisture trailed down your cheek and you hastily wiped it away. Overly preoccupied with your own thoughts, you hadn’t even noticed the familiar prickle of tears in your eyes. “Nothing, Frank, just tired.” You sniffled, giving him an unconvincingly tiny smile.

Narrowing his eyes, Frank set the clothes aside, drawing you closer to him as if you weighed nothing. Draping you over his lap and holding you close, he studied you for a moment before cradling your cheek in one of his massive, calloused hands. “You sure?”

You shrugged, nuzzling into the cool touch. “It's just been a rough week, nothing to worry you or Matt about.” A part of you felt relieved that it was Frank in front of you rather than Matt, who would have surely called you out for lying. Though your treacherous emotions might have given you away regardless, given that salty tears continued to roll down your cheeks as Frank gently stroked the droplets off of your face. 

“I know I ain't a genius, but I can tell when you're hurtin’, doll. Talk to me?” His voice was as gravelly as ever, but his deep brown eyes pleaded with you, encouraging you to be honest about your woes. 

With another half-hearted shrug, you averted your gaze, focusing on your lap rather than your concerned boyfriend. “I dunno, it's been a long week, Frankie. I started my classes again, which is fine, but my PC broke when I was trying to finish up my assignments so I had to frantically email my professors to make arrangements. And then I started my period, and then I got sick, and then all these little things started piling up like the printer not working or my backpack breaking or my train being delayed and I just—” Your voice cut out as Frank pulled you into a tight embrace, pressing kisses against your hairline as more tears formed along your waterline. 

“Sweetheart, you shoulda called me. Or Red. You been dealin' with all this on your own?” His lips brushed over your forehead as he spoke. At your lack of response, he sighed. “Honey, we've talked about this.”

“I know, I know, but I didn't want to bother either of you with something so small.” You murmured against him, shivering as he rubbed your lower back. 

“You're not a bother, doll. Not now, not ever.” Frank tenderly rested his forehead against yours, touching your lips to his as he cradled the back of your head. “Here, why don't you put on my sweater?” 

Pulling back from the embrace, Frank tapped your arms, waiting patiently for you to lift your arms so he could remove your top and bra. After placing a soft kiss to your chest, he slipped the soft fleece over your head and arms, nodding in satisfaction at his handiwork.

“Better?” He held your chin between his pointer finger and thumb, lips quirked up in his signature barely-there smile. 

With a nod, you snuggled back into his embrace, sighing appreciatively when his fingers carded through your hair. 

“Glad to hear it, sweet girl. Let’s get you bundled up and we can order somethin’ to eat, yah?” 

Nodding again, you let him peel back the duvet before crawling off his lap and underneath the covers with trembling limbs. Sinking into the pillowy mattress, you sighed in relief—the exhaustion and stress of the past week sparking a deep ache in your bones. 

“Where do ya want me, babygirl?” Frank’s voice broke through your sleepy haze and you smiled despite your foul mood. Flopping onto your back, you made a grabby gesture at him. 

Chuckling quietly, Frank raised an eyebrow. “On top of ya? You’ll suffocate.” 

Pouting, you repeated the hand motions. Your throat was aflame after crying because of the stupid virus you’d picked up, leaving you hesitant to open your mouth again—but you wanted a Frank-shaped weighted blanket immediately to soothe your aches and pains. 

“Ok, doll, I won’t argue with ya after the shit week you’ve had. But promise me you’ll tap out if ya can’t breathe.” He waited for your eager nod before clambering on top of you and clumsily settling down. 

His body was tense as he held himself a few millimeters above your body, clearly still worried about crushing you. That simply wouldn’t do. Bringing your hands around his waist, you began kneading his back and shoulders in the way you knew he loved. 

Frank was fairly easy to please. A few well-placed touches to his upper back and he was putty in your hands. Running a single nail up his spine beneath his shirt, your lips broke into a grin at his deep, satisfied rumble. “Thought I was s’posed to be takin’ care of you.” He murmured, mashing his face against your neck. 

“You are. Just wanted you to relax.” You murmured, sleep tugging at your consciousness after the immense amount of energy you’d spent during your day of classes. Your voice must have revealed how desperately you needed a nap because Frank’s body shuddered with a laugh. 

“Sleep, sweetheart. I gotcha now.” 

Sandwiched between the mattress and the warm weight of your boyfriend, you let sleep drag you under. 

A thundering rumble sounded in your stomach, the vibrations breaking you out of a peaceful slumber. Groaning, you clenched your arms around your waist, hoping the pressure would cause the intense hunger pangs to fade. During your impromptu nap, your delightfully warm, boyfriend-shaped weighted blanket had been replaced by the duvet. Eyes still closed, you reached across the bed, groping the sheets in an attempt to find your partner and drag him closer to you, but you were unsuccessful. Whining miserably, you opened one eye, wincing at the bright rays of the setting sun temporarily blinded you. 

The room was, upsettingly, empty. No grumpy-yet-adorable man to be found. Coughing pitifully, you whimpered, hands clenching around the blankets, as if they would bring you comfort like Frank had. Had your interaction this afternoon been a dream? Were you alone all along?

A drop of saline rolled down your face and splashed onto the pillow, the moisture cool against your warm skin. Sniffling feebly, you shut your eyes again, praying that sleep would take you before you could wallow in your loneliness for too long. 

“Sweetheart?” Wiping your eyes, you glanced to the doorway to find the source of the voice, spirits lifting when you saw two beautiful men staring back at you, brows puckered in concern. 

They were by your side in an instant; Matt sat at the edge of the bed next to your pillows and Frank crawled into bed beside you, kissing your forehead when you immediately latched onto him. Matt frowned, running a hand over your arm before sliding into a horizontal position at your back. 

Their warmth was divine. Four burly arms wrapped around you, tangling you between your two partners. Matt’s nose brushed your nape as Frank hooked his chin over your head, guiding your face into the junction of his neck and shoulder. Your entire body sagged in relief, so grateful to be surrounded by the two men who loved you more than you could comprehend, so happy that you weren’t alone in your anguish any longer. 

“You ok, my love?” Matt’s gentle, unexpected question pushed your delicate constitution into emotional turmoil. 

A choked cry ran through your body with a tremor. Barrier broken, your body was suddenly wracked with vicious sobs, interspersed with weak coughs and sniffles. 

The muscular walls around you compressed as your partners pressed impossibly closer, cooing in sympathy as you bawled. 

“Hey, you’re ok, doll. You’re ok.” Frank’s dulcet rumble shook his chest beneath your ear. 

“That’s it, darling. We’re here now.” Matt spoke quietly, kissing the shell of your ear when he finished. His large hand splayed over your stomach, rubbing gentle circles as you trembled. Frank’s hand mirrored the motion along your back. 

The pair of them continued caressing you tenderly as your cries gradually halted. Drawing in a deep, hiccuping breath, you wiped your eyes, a rush of embarrassment flooding your body. 

“‘M sorry.” You whispered, blinking back a new wave of ashamed tears. 

“Nothin’ to be sorry for, babygirl.” Frank promised. 

“After the week you had, I don’t blame you.” Matt sighed, placing a line of kisses down your neck. “Next time you’re this miserable, pretty girl, give me a call, ok? I’ll come check up on you at the very least. I don’t want you at home alone when you’re this upset.” 

“I didn’t know if I could ask you to come over.” You explained shakily. 

“Oh, love,” Matt sounded almost mournful, hugging you tightly from behind. “Always. I’ll always come for you.” 

You nodded, a few lingering tears slipping down your cheeks. 

“You’re a bit feverish, darling. Are you feeling ok?” Matt’s voice was tight with worry. 

Shrugging timidly, you sighed, burrowing further into the cocoon of limbs you were wrapped in. “‘M ok. Better now.” 

Frank huffed out a laugh, kissing the crown of your head. “Forgot to mention, she’s got a cold.” 

“On top of everything else? You poor thing.” Matt crooned, running a knuckle over your cheek comfortingly. 

“It’s nothing.” You assured them, because it really was the least of your worries right now, with all of your impending assignments and broken equipment. 

Your loves seemed unconvinced, but they didn’t say anything more on the subject. Instead, Frank switched gears. “I’m sorry I left ya, doll. I ran to pick up dinner and got stuck talking to this one,” He gave Matt’s arm a shove, “In the living room.” 

“You started talking to me!” Matt argued with a bright chuckle.

“You wish, Red. I was tryin’ to get back to my girl and you were blabberin’ on about court.”

”YOU asked ME how my day was!“

”Out of politeness, and you went way beyond the one word answer I was hoping for.“ 

”Well, excuse ME for thinking my partner wanted to hear about my day.“

The two continued bickering, their dramatic inhales expanding their chests, pushing you around like the bellows of an accordion. It could have been annoying, being jostled by their argument, but each swell of muscle reminded you of their presence, soothing your nerves. 

You let your limbs go slack, your body bouncing between the two sturdy frames surrounding you as if you were a ping pong ball. Smiling happily, you let their rising voices wash over you as you began to nod off again. 

”You alright, sweetheart?“ Frank's question startled you awake and you were unsure of how much time had passed. ”Ya got quiet on us.“

”'M fine. Sleepy.“ You responded, basking in the soft touches that you were once again bombarded with. 

Matt chuckled against your neck. “That makes sense, my darling girl. You can rest here with me while Frank gets the pizza.” 

You could practically hear Frank's resounding eye roll at Matt's demanding tone, but you were more interested in the promise of food. “Pizza?” You asked, hopefully.

“Yah, doll. Pizza. From your favorite place. Thought you deserved somethin' tasty after everythin' you had to deal with this week.” Frank kissed the tip of your nose, sliding out of your embrace and off the bed. “I'll be right back with it, ok?” 

“Mmmkay.” You yawned, making both men smile. Matt carefully maneuvered your body so that you were propped against his chest, sitting up ever so slightly. 

“There we go, pretty girl. How's that?” His lips tickled your forehead as he spoke and you giggled.

“Tickling me, Matty.” You whispered, tilting into his grasp with a sigh. 

“Thought you were s'posed to be helpin' her rest.” Frank remarked from the doorway, pizza box balanced precariously as he wolfed down a slice. 

Matt scoffed, “And I thought that pizza was for her.”

Shrugging, Frank smirked at his boyfriend. ”It's my tip. For the delivery.“ 

Matt snorted in response, taking the box from Frank so he could sit behind you. 

”Let's get some food into ya, doll. Then you can sleep as much as ya want, ok?“

The rest of the night was spent laying on a firm chest as the boys fed you slices of your favorite pizza, eventually falling asleep blanketed by their embrace. 

Admiring your beautiful face, your expression lax with sleep, Frank spoke as lowly as possible to avoid waking you. 

”We have some work to do, Red. You ok handlin' things here if I go out tomorrow?“ 

”Absolutely,“ Matt confirmed. ”It shouldn't take us long.“ 

”Nah, but it'll make her day.“

”And that's what's important.“ Matt smiled, kissing Frank's arm that was draped across the 3 of you. 

#frank castle x reader x matt murdock

[ughlantsov]

Seasons of Grief

The reader comforts Kento as the anniversary of Yuu Haibara's death approaches, and after, as Kento faces the threat of losing her.

WARNINGS: 18+, Fluff, comfort smut and angry smut, hurt, angst, grief. You know what you came here for, you dirty birds.

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You felt Kento change like the seasons, when Yuu Haibara's death anniversary approached. His signs of grief, the post-traumatic stress, and his guilt at being unable to save his best friend, showed in the most curious ways. Remaining, as always, so outwardly stoic, Nanami appeared to all others unaffected; but to you, who as his fiancée, loved and knew him best, your heart broke softly for him year after year.

Firstly, the holiday brochures. More and more of them, ordered online and addressed to Kento- Malaysia, Australia, New Zealand...and countries you knew he and Yuu had spoken about visiting together after qualifying from Jujutsu High. Backpack tours of Europe. Scotland and Ireland. The Americas. Sometimes Kento mentioned taking a holiday to you, and sometimes he didn't- but you had seen his notebooks and the itineraries he had written, all comfort blankets for him, all escape plans, all safety nets. In one instance, you saw where he had accidentally written Yuu's name instead of yours, then crossed fiercely through, and replaced. He had always insisted you were his best friend. It never upset you that You had been his first best friend.

Second, the clumsiness. The sound of porcelain smashing to pieces on the kitchen floor as Kento tidied the dishes. The quiet swearing as he caught his belt loop on the doors. The increase in minor injuries from missions, and his hushed, subdued apologies to you as you cleaned and dressed his wounds, laying gentle kisses on his temples while his forehead rested on your breasts, quiet and still, shadows long against the evening sun.

Thirdly, the phone calls to his parents and grandfather. Usually a weekly event, they become twice weekly, then every other day, then daily. He could not face calling Yuu's parents; although they would never allow him to apologise, full of guilt, for his perceived part in their son's death, his thumb still sometimes hovered over his screen, the Haibara's name list on his screen. So, he called his own parents, just to let them know he was fine, and safe, and that you were fine and safe. His grief, he shared with his grandfather, in quiet Danish, curled up in an armchair late at night.

Finally, came the nightmares. Kento would wake up gasping, bare chest coated in cold sweat as he reached out for someone he would never make it to in time. You reached out to take his hand when it flung out in the dark, and he would pull you to him and start comforting you, and start reassuring you, wholly unaware that you heard his deep voice breaking so slightly in his chest. Unaware that he had been crying out for help in his sleep- help that never came when he and Yuu had needed it so badly. He stroked your hair and hushed sweet reassurance to you, letting you know he would never leave you, alone and afraid in the night.

Except, for this night. The night before the anniversary of Yuu's death. Kento did not want you to visit Yuu's grave with him on the anniversary, not wanting to burden you with his regrets. Wanting to offer Yuu the one-on-one time that he offered just once a year.

Kento's nightmares on this night were his most vivid so far. Desperate to sleep dreamlessly, he had sunk his fears into a whisky bottle, wordlessly allowing it when you gently removed the bottle after five large glasses. He had fallen asleep fitfully, tense with terror for the night ahead, but taken by force, numbed by the sweet opium of the drink.

You had curled close behind him, spooning him to you. You fell asleep with your nose to his shoulder blade, your arm barely reaching round his barrelled ribs to his chest, where he had grasped you tightly with his upper arm.

Kento's panicked shout broke you from your sleep in the wee small hours of the night. Chest heaving violently now, you were pushed away to your side of the bed. His hair, mussed and soft sat scatteringly over his forehead, head tossing from side to side, his arm reaching out again. You took his hand, calling his name, but Kento's hand clasped and unclasped around yours, unable to gain purchase. Your heart clenched painfully and you began to panic, unable to wake him, unable to bring Kento back and feeling like he would die there if you left him--

"DON'T HURT HIM-- PLEASE--"

"KENTO!"

Kento woke, shuddering gasps and wide-eyed, seeing Curses in every shadow as he sat hard up in bed, leant back on his elbows, chest and abdomen lurching with exertion. You crawled to him instantly, straddling him and clasping his tear-stained cheeks in your palms. Your face, contorted with pain, all for him, filled his vision. He sat up fully, thick corded arms wrapping you to him completely, enveloping you against his sweating chest.  This time, you held him, whispering reassurances that you wouldn't leave him and that he was safe in your bed. Fingers tangled in his hair, scratching his scalp softly, rhythmic, in circles. His breathing calmed, his bounding heartbeat beginning to slow against your breasts.

Gently leaning you away, he wiped his eyes with one large movement. He had never loved you more than when you held him during his pain. He knew he was never less of a man to you, for crying out in his sleep. He knew he could hold his head high outside of these four walls, wearing your love like armour as he headed to battle.

Kento pulled you closer on his lap, nuzzling deeply into your neck and feeling the heat of your core against his hips. In his shirt, and only his shirt, he noted. Sighing against your throat as you felt him begin to harden beneath you.

"Thank you...please-- I just need to sleep." He groaned as you rocked your hips softly against his, granting wordless permission. He shuddered, chest bursting with love and gratefulness, lips and tongue paying homage to your throat while he unbuttoned your shirt. Your pussy sat directly atop his hardening shaft, and you shivered, whining as your shirt fell open, and Kento's calloused fingers cupped your breasts, insistently rolling over your nipples.

Kento moaned softly as you rode him through his pyjamas, cock straining upwards against the soft material. Your hand reached downwards, snaking across his abdomen and trail of hair until you grasped his shaft, pulling him gently upwards out of his clothes. His cock rested against his abdomen, and you swiped your thumb against the drop of precum at its tip. Kento's shoulders tensed and rolled at the sensation, yearning to be inside you, to feel you closer.

Kento took your nipples into his mouth and hands again as you gripped his cock, feeling his pulse bounding there, and you began to stroke him, firm and practiced, from ball to tip. Kento's eyes fluttered closed in pleasure, reaching down to grasp your hand under his, obsessed with how exceptional your small hand felt gripping his length.

Kento's hands left your body to lift you upwards, and you guided him to you, rubbing him between your folds to coat him in your arousal. Still sat upright as your knees and thighs embraced his hips, Kento's hands grasped your waist and gently pushed you downwards. You whimpered at the stretch of his length and girth, feeling so full before he was fully sheathed in you.

He shushed into your hair as you fell forwards against his chest, your fingertips pressing hard against it.

"You're so good to me...just a little more," and his arms wrapped around you, forearms pressing your hips downwards until he bottomed out, groaning and bucking, lips firm against yours as he drank your gasps and cries.

Barely pulling out, you cried his name as you felt him rocking your pussy tightly against him. Kento allowed no space between you, chest tight with affection and holding himself back so as not to squeeze you too hard. His pulsing tip continually pressing against your cervix and deepest walls, Kento gripped your hair at the roots, tipping your head back swiftly to expose your throat, his second hand still effortlessly thrusting you down his length, trying to close the space between you until you were one. His head tipped sideways, teeth scraping down either side of your throat, and you stilled completely, at his mercy as he took his comfort and pleasure from you.

The constant pressure against your cervix, and clit rubbing against his pubic bone, had your orgasm building quickly, and you fell prone in his arms; his hand gripping the roots of your hair grew tighter, and you felt him growl against your throat as his own built.

"Kento...harder...please..." And you felt his hand lifting you on and off his cock quicken in response, his hips raising to meet them, feeling the pressure of his thrusts jumping in your belly now. Your cheeks flushed and your belly tightened as you rocked harder against him, taking the clitoral stimulation you needed to shunt you over the edge. You gasped and cried, his name tumbling off your lips in waves.

"I'm so close...wait for me," Kento whispered against your lips, breaths quickening as his hands thrust you against him hard just a few more times before he stilled, pouring deep inside you, breaths juddering, feeling the fear seep out of him, his own body and mind full of you, and only you.

Kissing you softly, Kento deftly flipped you onto your back in bed. You gripped him by the back of the head, kissing and nipping at his ears, and he gently pulled out of you, reaching to his bedside table and pressing a soft cloth between your legs.

"Stay," he urged. As he rolled aside again to close his drawer, you clung against his back, spooning him again. Kento hesitated, tears pricking in his eyes, suddenly overwhelmed by the love you gave. He allowed you to pull his back to your chest, falling asleep with you, shadows chased away, for now.

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"I've been requested for a mission. I don't like to be away, not today. But..." Kento smiled gently at you, hand reaching out to cup your cheek as you straightened your mission-wear.

"I'll be alright, I promise." He assured you, on the day of his visit to Yuu Haibara's grave, "But will you be? You're going with someone?"

"As always. I'm supporting Ino. It's only a low-end Second Grade apparently. We'll be fine."

Kento's stomach clamped painfully for a second, but he urged himself to relax- she'll be fine, Ino would never let anything happen to her.

You left shortly after, Kento's lips lingering on your own a second longer than usual. He finished getting ready, lunch prepared to sit with Yuu and catch him up on his life and his love, and headed to Jujutsu High. Under Torii gates, past effigies and low soft willowy branches, he found Yuu's grave, surrounded by too many others. Relaxing, feeling the positive purpose of his visit start to wash away the pain, Kento sat, greeting his old friend.

Kento sat with Yuu for hours. He found it just as easy talking to Yuu now as he had all those years ago-- probably easier, mused Kento sardonically, he talks a lot less now. Brushing crumbs off his suit, and picking up his jacket, Kento placed a hand on Yuu's headstone, wishing with a pang that it was Yuu's shoulder instead. Quashing the feeling with firm resolve, he spoke to Yuu, with Yuuji Itadori, and all of his subordinates clear in his mind.

"I'd die before I let them go the way you did, you know. Gojo and I...he may be a moron, Yuu, but we can change the system. I'm sure of it."

Kento bowed deeply, bidding his friend goodbye. Fat drops of rain started to fall, his light suit growing quickly more speckled, a flick of hair loosening and tipping over his forehead. Heading up the steps to the school buildings, and hoping he may run into you there after your mission, he passed another pair of sorcerers, and he froze as he heard a snippet of their conversation.

"...Second Grades died on a mission today. Body's being brought in now."

"Oh man. Just one of them at least. Wonder who it was?"

Kento felt ice-water rush through his veins. A thousand violent, bloody images flashed across his mind, and a wave of nausea threatened vomit. He clapped a hand over his mouth as he lost his footing, staggering sideways into the red pillar of a gate. Vision swimming, rain and red mist clouding his vision, he yanked off his glasses and dropped them into the mud, brown shoes slapping into a run, spattering gravel up his trouser legs.

You. Ino. You. Ino. You. YOU. Your faces and voices flashed in Kento's mind as he sprinted towards the mortuary, feeling sick to his stomach as he hoped beyond hope to meet Ino's corpse there, and not yours. Full of shame and fear, he ignored everyone and every greeting along the way until traditional Japanese wooden corridors made way to clinical white floors, metal doors. Slamming through the final set of metal doors, the scent of chloroform and death hit his nostrils, and he found Shoko completing the sign-in of a single body bag.

Shoko's eyes met Kento's as she reached into her pocket for her phone. Thick eyebrows tilted in surprise, she took in Nanami's appearance, dishevelled, soaked, wild.

"Nanami," she started, hesitantly, "I was just about to call you. Why are you crying? Nanami? Nanami?"

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It had taken a long time for Shoko to calm Kento down for long enough to tell him it wasn't you in that bag. Kento had fallen to his knees, hyperventilating, eyes wide and seeing nothing, as Shoko had shaken him by the shoulders and called for him.

There had been two second-grade missions that day; yours, and another. The casualty had been from the other, another young sorcerer slaughtered in combat. Your phone had been destroyed in your combat, so Ino had contacted Shoko at your insistence, for her to seek Kento out to tell him in person instead of interrupting his vigil at Yuu's grave. Just a misunderstanding, Nanami, Shoko insisted, she's alright, she's alright.

Fragile and exhausted, Nanami sat alone now in a quiet office, hands shaking around a mug of cheap coffee. Aside from the creak of passing footsteps on floorboards, Kento was in silence, only his thoughts for company.

"Nanamin? Can I come in?" Kento didn't answer, and a few seconds passed, before the door clicked open, Satoru letting himself in. His usual plaintive smile on his face, Satoru walked forwards to place a reassuring hand on Kento's shoulder.

"Nanamin. Shoko told me what happened." Silence, again, from Kento. Satoru continued, "Ino just messaged. They're in the car with Ijichi now. Both of them. She'll be back soon. Minor injuries apparently, Shoko can fix them right up, but..." Kento scowled up at Satoru, alarmed.

"I'm not in the mood for your games, Gojo. What is it?" Gojo's smile dropped, face uncharacteristically grim, and...disgusted?

"It wasn't some low second-grade they were sent to, Nanamin. It was a middle of the road first-grade at least. And the higher-ups who sent Ino and y/n knew that. I've suspected for a while that they've been bribing the administrators to rank certain Curses lower so they can justify sending in lower-grade sorcerers, and spare the big clan sorcerers. Saves them money, and it's handy when they don't have the higher-grade sorcerers to hand to deal with it." Satoru grimaced. "I'm going to deal with it, but I thought you'd want to bring them hell too. You and y/n deserve to know."

Kento was silent again as Satoru left. But, this time, he was wordless with rage. A red veil had descended over his thoughts, and Kento found himself close to collecting his blade and hunting down the Jujutsu Headquarters' higher-ups one by one.

How dare they, Kento seethed, up and pacing now, fists flexing pulse points in his temple and neck raised with fury, how dare they send you like a lamb to slaughter, to protect their wallets, to protect their own in the great clans.

His stomach churning, Kento realised now why the location of Jujutsu Headquarters was a closely guarded secret-- they'd have been murdered through spite years ago, he realised. He had only one connection to the higher-ups, and he had reached for his phone with shaking hands, when the door opened once again, and you walked in, scraped and bruised but undeniably, completely you.

Kento dropped his phone back into his pocket and crossed the room in three great strides, lifting you into the air with the force of his embrace. Putting you down, huge warm hands patting you down all over, Kento checked you- scrapes, bruises, but whole, alive. A shaking sigh of relief escaped him. You stroked his cheek, the look of sweet concern in your eyes nearly bringing him to tears. You opened your mouth to speak, but Kento interrupted.

"Get home. Now. Call a taxi, charge it to my card." You opened your mouth again to argue, but Kento silenced you instantly. You felt a chill in your stomach, Kento looming over you, an unstoppable force, undeniably livid, but not with you.

"Don't argue with me. Go home, clean up. Eat. Lock the doors. I've got something I need to do, then I'll be home. And you're never coming back here again."

Kento left the room, leaving you in stunned silence. You hadn't even been able to greet him. Shaken up, you called for a taxi, and made your way outside. The corridor was already empty, Kento's footsteps fading away from you.

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"Principal Gakuganji?"

Yoshinobu Gakuganji sat in his office, a steaming cup of tea in front of him, and he is prickled instantly at the tone of the voice on the other end of the phone.

"Speaking."

"Good. I'd like you to listen very carefully." Cold seeped into Gakuganji's stomach as the man continued to talk.

"You, and yours, at Jujutsu Headquarters, approved two second-grade missions today. Neither of these missions, as it turns out, were second-grade appropriate, were they, Principal Gakuganji?"

Gakuganji's grip tightened on the phone. He knew this voice.

"Nanami-san? I suggest you think very carefully before saying anyth--"

"Oh no, Sir, I suggest you think very carefully. One second-grade sorcerer died today, and you should consider yourself extremely fortunate that my fiancée was not the one brought to the school in a body bag. Because the next body bag would have been yours."

Gakuganji stood, appalled at being spoken to like this.

"And before you ask yourself how I'd have the audacity to call you like this, I'd like you to consider: would you like me as your enemy, after you take from me the thing I love most in the world?"

Gakuganji had dropped the receiver now, staring at it like it had burned him.

He heard the voice at the end of the phone hum, pensively.

"I could be quite the Curse-user, you know."

A faint click as the call ended, and Gakuganji was left alone with Nanami Kento's threats and a lingering dial tone.

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You had been home just long enough to shower and pull on a dressing gown, worry clawing at your insides over the state you had found Kento in. His voice, cold and gravelly, had chilled you, and you needed him home and happy with you to feel certain you had done nothing wrong. Stomach roiling, you couldn't bring yourself to eat. The door clicked, and your heart leapt into your throat. Stepping into the hallway you found Kento, trousers and shoes coated in dried mud, jacket slung on the hooks by the door, tie already off and hanging from his pocket. You could feel the rage still rolling off him in waves and your hands went cold, pushing them round yourself and under your arms.

"...Kento? What's happened?"

Kento's jaw-clenched. He was quick to reassure you, "You've done nothing wrong. I'm not angry with you. I could never be."

You visibly relaxed, and Kento continued, "But you're never going back to that place. They don't care about you. Hand in your notice."

Filled with indignation, you began to argue back.

"You think you can order me to leave my job without an explanation? Please, Kento. I'm not a child."

"An explanation?" He spat, striding towards you now, "Here's your explanation. It has come to my attention that the higher-ups are routinely under-ranking Curses to send inappropriate sorcerers to manage them. You and Ino dealt with a First-grade Curse today, so congratulations to you, but another Second-grade sorcerer came to Shoko in a body bag today, unsuccessful."

You felt cold to the pit of your stomach. You had been convinced the Curse had been an innocent misclassification. You had been overwhelmed, your life very much on the line, and you and Ino had succeeded through luck and teamwork alone. Suddenly, you understood Kento's rage, but couldn't allow him to make rash decisions on your behalf. You inhaled deeply, and let out a shaking breath. Kento was inches from you, cursed energy bounding off him in hot pulses.

"Be that as it may, and we can address this so it doesn't happen again, I'm not leaving my job over thi--" Kento snarled at you, backing you into your bedroom now.

"This is what you want?" He inquired coldly, slamming the door behind him, "For me to bury you? Or, what's left of you? We only had half of Yuu's body, you know. I wonder, did they know that Curse was a First-grade?"

You continued to back away from Kento, unable to quell his rage, the backs of your knees bumping against the bed.

"Is that what this is about? What happened to Yuu? Kento, be reasonable--"

Kento's hand pressed over your mouth. "Enough," he rumbled, voice low and dangerous. You felt heat pool in your belly now, feeling the heat, anger and possessiveness radiating off him.

Kento removed his hand and tilted your chin forcefully up to him, crushing his lips to yours, so different to his usual tender kisses, and his hand slipped under your dressing gown, squeezing your breast hard. You mewled against Kento, pleading again for him to be reasonable--

"I am being reasonable," he purred at you, hands now undoing your dressing gown, stripping it off you, tossing it aside and leaving you naked and vulnerable in front of him, "because you and I both know I wouldn't want to live without you. Why do they deserve you more than I do?"

Kento spun you away from him, tossing you face down onto the bed. You gasped, opening your mouth again to tell Kento off, and as you began to lift yourself off the bed, you felt Kento's knee on the small of your back, forcing you down, and his hand over your mouth. Your breath hissed from your nose in surprise, and you felt Kento, powerful and completely immovable, caging you in.

"So if I am being reasonable, and we know I am, how else can I make you leave that place?" You felt his tongue on the back of your neck, licking a bold stripe up to your ear, before biting your earlobe a little too harshly. You mewled behind his hand again, growing wetter, pussy aching despite your indignation.

"How about I put a baby in you?" You squeaked in shock behind his hand, and he laughed dryly, "Come now. It's not like we haven't spoken about this. Would that be enough to take you off the battlefield?" You felt Kento palming himself through his trousers now, completely unhinged in his anger and desire to protect you, and heard the zip of his trousers, feeling his bare cock dropping, throbbing and huge between your thighs, wet with your arousal.

Kento hummed at you, prone and gagged by his hand beneath him, and slipped his length between the wetness of your thighs, groaning as you clamped them together in surprise. He began to slowly thrust into the tops of your thighs, groaning lowly and wettening his cock. He felt your panting breaths from your nose against his hand, rage still coursing through him at your refusal, his irrational mind placing your safety above all else.

You nearly fell apart at his next question, asked slowly, millimetres from your ear; "Should I be gentle?" A moment of hesitation from you, before you shook your head. Kento chuckled darkly- "Good. I wasn't going to be."

With no warning, Kento angled his cock upwards and thrust deeply into your prone body, instantly bottoming out, grunting with the pleasure. You squeaked behind his hand, arms reaching round instinctively to grab at Kento. Now your body was pinned completely by his, his other hand swiftly collected yours together and pressed them hard to the bed above your head.

You mewled and whimpered behind Kento's hand as he pounded into you relentlessly, owning you, marking you as his own with harsh lovebites to your neck that no amount of make-up would hide. You were dizzy from his pace, cockhead slamming against your cervix and sweet spot, now unmoving and completely succumbing to Kento, allowing yourself to be so used, as he panted and groaned above you.

Kento felt only a spark of guilt as he continued to bully his way into your pussy, feeling wholly justified in his rage, needing you to know how serious he was about keeping you home and safe.

His hand left your mouth to reach under your body, sliding between your folds and pinching your clit harshly, "Loud as you like now, my love." And Kento was rewarded with you gasping his name, before crying out like a song, music to his ears, and his pace picked up again, determined to hear you call his name again.

Your orgasm crashed into you with little warning, Kento's harsh ministrations on your pussy and clit rushing you through your orgasm rapidly to overstimulation, and you squirmed and writhed beneath him, only spurring him on more.

"Again," Kento ordered, growling into the back of your neck as within seconds, you cried his name out again, begging him now for relief.

Kento continued, and you lay spent as he continued to pound you into the mattress, pussy now fluttering weakly around him, and he reached under you, holding your lower belly as he came with a roar, holding you up to him as he spilled himself inside you. You panted, duvet tear stained beneath your eyes, and Kento pulled out to a whimper from you. He appraised his work, using his fingers to push drips of his cum back inside your pussy.

You lay in silence as Kento dropped back onto his knees, head tipped back and cracking his neck from side to side.

"Alright," he spoke slowly, as you laughed into the mattress at his strange duality, "we can talk about it now."

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Love you all, MWAH

[ughlantsov]

Do you think Nanamin would be the type of ex who acts like he doesn't really care for us anymore and completely disappears from the face of the Earth, and the next time we run into him, we can just see his heart break a little bit more? Or would he stalk us and show up at our doorstep drunk, basically begging us to take him back and we get some good make-up snuff snuff? 🤔

WC. 3.5k

Tags. fem!reader, angst to fluff, the reader really dislikes gojo, unprotected sex + creampie, nanami slightly drunk, mentions of and alcohol consumption.

Notes. I became what I vowed to destroy (writing nanami angst), but it's okay because then it goes to fluff. And at first I was going to say without thinking that he's probably the second choice, but I think nanami would be a bit of both yk? I wasn't planning on making this so long, sorry

"Are you serious?" your voice cuts through the silence like a sharp knife through butter. The squeak of the kettle on the stove snaps you out of your trance for a moment, exchanging your gaze on it and then on nanami's body who moves to extinguish the flame. 

With the absence of the insistent clatter of nanami chopping vegetables, without the knife clattering on the cutting board or the muffled noise of the tea announcing that it is ready, you are left drowning in a silence that feels as heavy as fog. 

You stand with your arms crossed in the doorway, your fingers pressed against the silky pink fabric of the bathrobe that hugs the figure of your body. Your strands still drip drops of water along your back thanks to the recent shower increasing the shivering sensation.

Nanami doesn't say anything, at least not as fast as you wanted, so you press a little harder. 

"Are you planning to stay quiet or are you going to say something?"

"What else is there to say, I've already said all." Nanami replies, as composed as ever. 

Carefully, he takes the teapot off the stove and fills a cup of the herbal tea to its full capacity. Then he takes a second one to do the same, placing a couple of lemon slices into the brew, one for each of them. 

Nanami turns on his heels, his bare feet making a stifled noise each time he walks until he returns to the counter with both cups. There's one that's obviously for you. Wordlessly, nanami gently pushes it in your direction but you don't move a muscle, other than wrinkling your nose in his direction. 

"You really plan to go back to being a sorcerer," you spit, dumbfounded. You had to confirm what he had just said. 

"I've been talking to Satoru..."

"Of course you have," you click your tongue, finally undoing your arm posture to pull a couple strands back. 

This is what being gojo's friend entailed, getting involved in schemes that ended up hurting you or your loved ones.

"He needs my help," he counters without looking at you. Soon the sound of the sharp knife meeting the wood of the board is present again. 

"You can stop that." Him cutting the vegetables, you meant. Him ignoring that you were about to explode in front of him. A curse stung on the tip of your tongue but you try to have a mature discussion, try to talk some sense into him. "I need my boyfriend. Isn't it enough to have the strongest sorcerer on their side? I thought he was capable of anything." Your mouth spits sarcasm. 

You and nanami didn't argue. You would get angry and he would kiss your forehead and say everything was fine. He would give you a gift, give you a massage and listen to what the problem was, there was always a solution after all. 

You and nanami didn't fight. Not since you stopped being sorcerers, because in the past all your arguments revolved around it. 

"He needs me to keep an eye on a student. It's a favor." Nanami drops the knife to the side to finally look at you and you can't read him, you don't know what he's thinking. 

"That can't be done by him?"

"Honey," he sighs, tossing his hair back. The realization that this was a serious fight tightens your chest, this was the part where he kissed your forehead and assured you that everything was going to be okay, but pretty soon you realize that's not going to happen now. "I don't want to fight," he says instead, breaking the script you've always followed. 

It takes you a moment to respond, your throat cuts and your voice trembles as you speak again. 

"Then let's not," you say, ready to turn and walk out of the kitchen. 

"Baby, wait."

Nanami's voice stops you in the doorway, you look over your shoulder at him.

"I'm not going to stay and watch you die." You realize your hands were balled into fists, something cold pinches the back of your neck and you realize it's not just the cold... It was cursed energy. You haven't felt it flowing so heavily over you in years. You know nanami can feel it too. 

"I don't like my job, you know I hate it. We live on misery to survive on misery." 

His words hurt, but they carry a reality. Being a sorcerer paid more, but at what cost?

"You hated being a sorcerer too," you whisper.

"At least there I'm going to save lives. I can really make a difference." You had never heard him speak to you so firmly or seriously in all your years of relationship...

Never except for that one time he talked to you about giving up sorcery and moving far away. You could save up and move to Malaysia, get a cottage away from the city, buy books and adopt some pets. Nanami wanted to sink his toes in the sand and feel the sun burning his cheekbones, you wanted to pursue that dream with him. 

"Have you decided?" 

He takes a deep breath before answering.

"Yes."

"Then I'm leaving." 

You couldn't say you expected him to chase you. Or that he would change your mind since that would not be the nanami you loved, all along he has respected your decision and never tried to influence when you say you are sure about something. 

So that night he allowed you to leave. He didn't come near the room while you picked up a couple of articles of clothing and threw them into a backpack. 

You waited at the front door for him to say something. Your fingers trembled around the doorknob, you didn't want to leave. You didn't want to. You thought about going back, you thought nanami was going to look for you. 

But he didn't. 

Not that night. Or the next. Or the first week. 

Your fingernails are short from biting them. Every day you slept late, the blue light of the phone screen burning your eyelashes in the dark of night waiting for a message from him. 

First you avoided the places where you knew he would be, the bakery near the apartment you shared before or the supermarket that had those carrot cakes he loved to buy. 

By the second week you began to frequent them. You saw him in the vegetables he would buy, in the men's section and in ties you wanted to buy for him. You saw him in every tall or blond-haired man who walked by you.  

By the third week your heart leapt at the sight of his name on the screen. 

Wine tasting with Kento♡ 🍇

Then you snapped. It was a calendar notification reminding you of the event in two days. You bought a tie for him especially for that day, he bought shoes for you to match it and the thought that you weren't going to see him again made you cry in the shower for at least half an hour while the water muffles your sobs. You didn't want your friend to comfort you anymore, you didn't want to pity her. 

When you get out of the shower you try to lighten your mood with soft music. You light a candle and close the windows, you are putting ice on your eyes to bring down the swelling when your phone starts ringing. 

Incoming call from Gojo Satoru. 

"What do you want?" You get straight to the point, pushing the ice away from your face which is starting to melt. 

"Open the door." Gojo pauses for a moment, seeing that it doesn't elicit the expected reaction from you, he adds, "I have a surprise for you."

"I don't feel like seeing you, Gojo." 

You don't understand how he got this address in the first place if it was true that he was out after all. 

"It's nanami, surprise is nanami. I can't keep secrets, sorry."

The ice falls from your hands and your fingers press the phone tightly against your ear. Your first reaction is denial.  

"Liar."

The atmosphere tightens with a "What? No. He's right here.... Nanamin say hi." Silence takes over the instant, broken only by a muffled thump, as if Gojo had slapped a sack of flour. A grunt coming from someone else. "Say hi."

From the other end of the line, you sense a scuffle between Gojo and his phone, until Nanami's familiar voice emerges after a brief lapse. 

"Hi," you utter first.

"Hey... I-" His tone is deep, as if he's just woken up from a long nap.

"You really came with Gojo all this way?" you inquire.

"Yeah, we were nearby. We went for dinner and drinks." You could clearly discern from his slurred voice, the words slipping under his tongue that what he was saying was true. 

"Are you okay?" you whisper, suddenly noticing that you were feeling very warm. You get out of bed and prowl around the edges before heading to the guest bathroom to discard the semi-melted ice cubes.

"No," was his terse reply. You could make out Gojo's inaudible voice in the background, assuming he was trying to tell nanami what to say.

"Do you want to come in?" you asked against all your senses.

"I'd love that, yes." You bit your lip to keep from smiling.

The reflection in the mirror greeted you ready for bed: hair pulled back, slight dark circles under your eyes, but a smile that screamed you were the happiest woman in the world. You couldn't feel guilty for rejoicing at seeing Nanami again.

"But Gojo has to go," you reminded him as you walked away from the bathroom to head for the main room, where the two men were waiting for you.

"Sure," Nanami didn't hesitate.

"You're so mean," Gojo complained, and Nanami apologized before hanging up.

You open the door with a bit of hesitation, in front of you was a Gojo still wearing the school uniform and nanami wearing formal clothes along with a leopard print tie, it was the same one he wore when you both were sorcerers.

Gojo has the birth of a smile on his lips, with his eyes covered by the familiar black blindfold and his hair slightly steepened upwards. While Nanami has his tie loosely around his neck, his glasses on the tip of his nose and his cheeks slightly red.

"Hi, gojo," you greet listlessly, however the joy of having nanami in front of you overtakes you a little and you can't help but smile sincerely in his direction. You make space for nanami to enter and wave goodbye to gojo, closing the door behind you without giving the sorcerer time to add anything else, it would probably be a bad joke after all so you don't feel guilty.

You invite nanami to chat on the rooftop since you didn't want to wake your friend and you wanted to have more freedom to be able to talk to him about exorcising curses and having a not so conventional conversion without your non-sorceress friend suspecting anything.

Silently you both climb a wooden staircase that directs you to the highest part of the house, you are the first one out and nanami has to bend his back slightly to pass through the door frame. 

"It's a beautiful view," nanami comments as he gazes at the lights and the view of the city. 

Mei's rooftop was surrounded by small plants and different potted plants, some hanging over the wall and some growing from the ground. Near the entrance there was a grape-colored couch where you directed your body waiting for nanami to follow you.  

The softness of the couch sinks with his weight, his thighs sprawl inside the khaki pants and before your brain gives you more time to ramble about his legs you return to your cool attitude. 

"Do you need anything?"

"Can we not pretend?" 

"Pretend what?"

Nanami sighs, turns his eyes away from you to lose himself in the darkness of the sky for a moment. You take the opportunity to watch the breeze ruffle the blonde strands and notice how something tenses in his jaw. 

"That we don't feel like eating each other's mouths. My body is aching for you right now." You see him wet his lips, almost as if he's testing you on the words he just said. Your body can't stay still at his words however your coherence can't fight your feelings much either, so you keep looking at him. He looks exquisite, you could swear that physical training has made his muscles look bigger these days. "You look gorgeous."

His words sink your chest, dry your throat. 

"I look like shit," you snort disdainfully, a laugh cutting your parched throat. 

"You can't convince a person who's woken up every day next to you otherwise."

"Kento..." you warn him, finally encouraging yourself to flee his presence. 

Nanami turns to look at you again, and though you don't reciprocate the way his eyes desperately seek yours, he continues to examine you. 

"What."

"You can't just come here and expect me to magically fall for you again."

"I don't. I want to hear you." He was killing you. You open your mouth to respond but you're only met with words you don't want to say, you look back at him, your stomach is going through a storm of emotions. 

"I have nothing to say!"

"You do. You always do, baby. Talk to me." Nanami speaks to you in that soft voice that would have your knees buckling if you had been standing.

"I don't want to lose you," you spit out. "I wouldn't stand for you to die for people who don't deserve you, we quit for something, we haven't gone to Malaysia yet, we..."

"He's just a boy," nanami interrupts you. "He's a good boy, I couldn't forgive myself for turning my back on him."

"I care about you. I don't care about some kid capable of holding Sukuna inside him, that's what they have gojo for. He's supposed to be there to protect them."

"Did you hear that?" Nanami approaches you and tries to touch you, holding his hand between yours. For a brief moment, you appreciate how your hands fit together perfectly, as if they were meant to be joined. Thick veins decorate the back of his hand, along with a watch marking eleven o'clock at night.

"Sorcerers talk," you mutter between your teeth.

"He's just a kid. Let me train him, let me help him. This is the first time I feel like I'm making the right choice. Don't make me choose between you and him."

"I'm not. I'm choosing for you." Nanami squeezes your hand, and your eyes drift at the gesture. Your back feels heavy with stress, like tight pincers biting into your shoulders.

"And I'm not going to leave you. I'm going to stay here."

"Kento." You frown, dragging your gaze from your intertwined hands to meet his gaze.

"Tell me you don't want to see me, tell me you don't love me anymore, and then I'll leave."

"Kento…” You almost whimper.

Nanami takes your hand and brings it to his own chest, where you can feel the racing beat of his heart, a melody with no specific rhythm.

"Do you feel that? It's the same reaction you provoke in me since we were at Jujutsu Tech. You're still my crush, I still choose you every day." Desperation echoes in his words, a longing to make you understand that he's not willing to let you go easily.

"I love you. I love you so much it makes me angry that you don't see it," you admit through gritted teeth.

"I see it!" Nanami exclaims in desperation, as if you're backing him into a corner with no way out. He's a wounded animal who won't stop whimpering for your help. The way he approaches you and places his forehead on yours collapses your defenses, his pointed nose stumbles against yours.

"I love you so much, Kento, that I accept your stupid idea of going back to being a sorcerer," you finally reply, feeling Nanami's ragged breathing against your lips as you savor the sweetness of the wine on your tongue. He smiles.

"Wipe that drunken grin off your pretty face."

"Why? Didn't you miss my smile?" he teases you, speaking in a tone that suggests danger.

"No." Your voice vibrates with excitement, barely restraining yourself from leaning in and kissing him completely.

"I missed yours.... And your kisses in the morning." Nanami murmurs against your lips before leaving you a quick kiss, slowly testing your reaction.

"Only in the morning?" you insist, opening your lips wider to invite him to continue kissing you.

"And at night," kiss. "And in the morning," kiss. "And during the day."

"I didn't miss your snoring."

"Liar. You like it because it sounds like a piggy."

You're laughing, louder than you should. The city falls into a respectful silence for you, and your laughter echoes a little louder than it should in the stillness of the night. Nanami catches your laughter, taking advantage of the carelessness to draw you into his lap. His strong hands clutch beneath your thighs, turning his thighs into your new seat.

"Don't use my drunken confessions for moments like these," you tell him once you've finished laughing, your hands gripping his shoulders, your legs dangling on either side of his body.

"These are precisely the moments when I should use them." Nanami slides into your neck, kisses your throat, and moves from there to a particular vein that pulses to the quickening rhythm of your heart. 

"If you die..."

"I won't." He interrupts you, so sure of himself that it makes you shiver.

"I'm going to revive you only to kill you again," you finish the sentence.

"I won't, love. I promise."

Nanami tries to keep the situation romantic and somewhat gentle, not wanting to pressure you and take you to a place you're not sure is where you want to be. But without him being able to stop to think his hands rummage your tits under your cotton t-shirt and you moan reciprocating, immediately his fingers mistreat your nipples pinching them between forefinger and thumb while his mouth continues to leave marks along your skin. 

"Kiss me," you ask between gasps. 

His teeth mark your shoulder, your hips form a rolling motion on top of his lap seeking to relieve some of the ache you feel between the folds of your pussy. 

Nanami accepts your plea and between wet kisses traces a path to your mouth and takes possession of it with his lips. Nanami owns you, he squeezes his lips desperately, showing you with each new kiss how much he missed you and you do the same, tangling your fingers in the short strands of his nape, pulling him that much closer to you.

In no time nanami has removed your pajama top to take a sore nipple into his mouth, his palate still soaked from the grape wine curling around the hard bud as he looks up at you from below with pleading eyes. Your fingers tousle his hair, wet from his sweat as he uses a hand that isn't clinging to your waist to snake around your hips and massage your clit above your shorts with three long fingers. 

It's not long before you're panting and bucking on top of him, being hit with your first orgasm. Clouded by the drug of desire, nanami removes your shorts stained with your arousal and sets them aside. He tries to be patient, playing with your arousal by squeezing it into the head of his cock. He rubs your clit a little but can't control himself and slides further down to find your entrance. 

Cruelly his hips thrust upward, with a raw clash of skins you feel nanami touch deep inside you. 

"Kento!" You call his name as if it were God's, gasping with your mouth open and your neck craned back. You were used to his size, but it had been so many days that it was painful at first to feel him push inside you. 

He merely guides you up and down, roughly squeezing your hips, soaking his fingers into your skin. 

In a moment he lets you go to hug the back of the couch with his arms open on either side, leaving you to drift off to do all the work. 

"Take it." At first you were disoriented, your movements sloppy. "Take this dick, sweetheart. It's yours." 

Her words make you moan, seeking his approval and desire you begin to move up and down and then in long circles, until soon enough you are both moaning for more. Nanami forgets the comfortable position to grab you by the waist in a sort of embrace, his moans are sloppy and needy, he fucks you from below while you try to keep up. 

"I'm gonna-" you warn, nanami kisses your throat.

"Let me feel you. I'm going to cum too."

You both reach orgasm soon after, you bury your nails in his back and he bites your shoulder so as not to attract the attention of the neighbors. You feel him spilling all over you, so quick and hot, making you feel full. 

Nanami clings you to his body, there are droplets of water on your back and in the tangled strands of your hair. You stand for a moment in complete silence as your hearts synchronize and begin to beat as one. 

Then it is nanami who speaks first... with an unexpected proposal—

"Marry me."

I really don't know how to feel about this in the end--I don't know if I hate it or love it T-T but. Sighs. It's 3k, I decided to post it anyway.

[ughlantsov]

nothing more

Pairing: Nanami x reader

Synopsis: Nanami is kinda In The Mood. But it was a tough day, so you aren’t. And that’s completely okay <3

Word count: ~1k

Content tags: fluffy/comfort, some suggestiveness but nothing too spicy, ultimately just cuddles n kisses

You’re in bed early tonight. Really early. You changed into a hoodie and your softest pair of sweatpants as soon as you got home. Fuzzy socks, too. Nanami gets back from work in the late evening, and is surprised to see you already bundled up under his sheets, laying limply on your side. It’s out of character - but kind of adorable. He knows how hard you’ve been working lately, and doesn’t blame you for taking it easy. But he also knows there’s no way you’re falling asleep any time soon. Even when you’re relaxing, doing nothing in particular, sleep doesn’t come easily to you. You’re the type to cozy up in bed and then spend hours on your phone - or more likely, talking. Cuddling…etcetera.

He takes off his tie, but doesn’t bother to change. No need to waste any time. He slides under the blanket, slinging an arm around you, and presses his face into your hair. “Long day?”

“Very.”

He’s surprised at the lack of warmth in your voice - and you barely stirred when he opened the bedroom door. But it’s not unusual for your reactions to be a bit muted when you’re tired. It doesn’t mean anything. He’ll just have to fight a little harder for your attention. His hand brushes down your waist as he kisses the top of your head. “But you made it to the end. I’m proud of you.”

“Barely made it.” You shift, pressing your body tightly against his, seeking his warmth. “I wanna fall asleep, but I can’t.”

“It’s too early for sleep,” he murmurs. “You’d be up at the crack of dawn if you went to bed now.”

You roll onto your stomach, pulling his arm along with you. “I guess.” You do sound sleepy, your voice muffled by the mattress beneath. It’s cute. And he’s had a long day too - he was thinking about you all this evening, wondering what you were doing without him around. This, apparently. Nothing. He’s sure that he can improve upon that. And very sure that he wants to. He can barely see you with the way you’re wrapped up in the sheets, but he doesn’t need a reminder to know how beautiful you are. How lovely you are to touch.

“Well…” He follows the motion of your body, rolling on top of you, wrapping his arms under your shoulders and pressing his cheek against yours. “We should probably come up with something for you to do until you’re ready. Don’t want you getting bored.” You stir slightly as he kisses you on the neck, but say nothing. He twists a careful hand through your hair, his hips pressing into the backs of your thighs, a gentle heat running across his skin. “Pretty girl,” he whispers, trailing his free hand down the side of your stomach, sliding it under the soft fabric of your sweatshirt. “Let me see you.” There’s a quiet intensity to his voice, a familiar sort of anticipation. He slides off to the side, releasing your hair but keeping his hold on your waist, and effortlessly flips you onto your back. There’s an easy, expectant smile on his face - until he sees yours.

There’s something off. Usually, you’re easily charmed by his advances, but tonight he sees none of the color that he expected, none of the light in your eyes. He keeps his hand on you, but his grip softens, his expression falling as your eyelashes flutter, like you’ve just been exposed to a bright light. The only light source in the room is the soft glow of a lamp, but he supposes your eyes might have been closed until now. He should have realized that this wasn’t the time. Should have been able to read it in your posture, your voice.

“I’m sorry…” you try to say, but the words barely make it out of your mouth before he kisses you. It’s not a kiss that asks for anything more, so you sink into it, your body seeming to relax a touch more as he strokes his fingers through your hair.

He pulls back, and rests his head on your chest. “No. No you’re not.” The smile on his face is soft, utterly sympathetic. “I won’t allow it.” His eyes dart up to your face, carefully monitoring your expression. “That wasn’t what you needed. And that’s okay.”

You nod hesitantly, and rest your hands gently on his back. “It was a bad day…I don’t know if I wanna talk about it.”

“And that’s okay too. If you decide to, you can. If not, I’ll just be here.” He pauses, still looking up at you, struggling to keep his voice even and calm. Not wanting to sway your decision. “Unless you don’t want that, either.”

To his relief, you shake your head. “No - stay. Please.”

“As long as you want.” He lets out a long, deep breath and presses his hands under you, wrapping his arms all the way around your body, his hold strong and secure. “I’ve got you.”

“But…”

You still sound guilty. It only makes him squeeze you tighter. “Stop.” He raises his head and kisses your chest, so soft that you can barely feel it through your sweatshirt. “I’ve got you. I don’t need anything else.”

And just like that - you believe him. Entirely. Soon, you’ll talk. But for now - it’s enough to not be alone. Enough to have him, and nothing more. You trail your hands up and down his shirt, already feeling more at ease. It’s going to be alright. He’s going to make sure of it. He’s not going to leave your side until he knows you’re okay, and even then - he’s not going anywhere. The arms wrapped around you, holding you in place, protecting you, are more than enough proof of that.

<3

[ughlantsov]

❝ 𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓-𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊 𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐒 ❞ . ༄ؘ m. list

୨୧˚ pairing ⇀ kento nanami x fem! reader

୨୧˚ synopsis ⇀ nanami comes home from work, exhausted as always. thankfully, his cute, little girlfriend is there with homemade dinner and an irritatingly tight outfit on.

୨୧˚ warnings ⇀ she/her prns , pussy eating , spitting , kitchen sex , p in v , praise , gentleman nanami , creampie .

NANAMI finds solace in your being. everything about you brings him the comfort he so desperately craves after a long, grueling day at work. the best part of his days are when he gets to clock out, leave the work place (and gojo’s annoying ass) behind, and walk through the doors of his home to the scent of whatever outstanding meal you decided to whip up. the best part of his day, without a shadow of a goddamn doubt is seeing you.

you, with your adorably proud smile as you explain what you so expertly cooked for dinner. dressed in your cute little comfy clothes, with messy hair and mismatching socks.

that’s the exact plot of tonight. nanami had heaved a heavy sigh as he slipped through the door, shucking off his coat and setting his briefcase down by the front room. yet another day leaves him utterly drained, bones creaking and back sore. “ken!” you called from the kitchen, and despite his exhaustion, nanami can’t stop the little smile he wears to himself. “c’mere! i wanna show you something!”

and of course, he does what you ask. nanami makes his way to the kitchen where the amazing scent of rosemary and herbs only intensifies. “that smells amazing, honey,” he comments sincerely, rolling up the sleeves to his button down shirt.

“thanks,” you return his smile, turning back towards the stove as you recount the details of the food you so thoughtfully prepared. “i took a stab at this one recipe i saw online: honey-rosemary chicken. i crushed up six cloves of garlic and mixed that with some rosemary, thyme, and parsley to make a…”

nanami had unintentionally phased out of the conversation, his tired eyes drilling holes into your back as you stirred whatever concoction was boiling on the stovetop. it was entirely innocent at first; the man had been admiring your socks—one purple with white stripes, pulled up to your mid-calf, and the other a solid pink, rolled down to your ankle. nanami truly loved your strange little quirks.

his gaze had trailed upwards, roaming over the expanse of bare leg you had on display before it disappeared beneath those irritatingly short shorts you dawned. that tight little tank top wasn’t making things any better. fuck, what were you saying?

“…en? ken?” you waved a wooden spoon in the face of your daydreaming boyfriend. “did you hear a single word i said?”

nanami blinked, inhaling a muted gasp. you stared up at his with conviction, arms crossed over your chest and plump lips pouted into a small frown. his heart was beating; nanami felt like a pig. he could control himself better than this damn it, he swears on that fact. but something about the way you dressed, about the way you cooked and how you greet him with such enthusiasm… the domesticity of it all was such a fucking turn on.

“can i have you?”

you are rendered speechless. when you do find words, they’re teeming with confusion. “pardon?”

“can i have you?” nanami restates, feeling a lot less shameful than he probably should. his hand reached for the spoon in your grip, gently sliding it out and placing it on the counter behind you. in the same motion, nanami is reaching out to turn the stove off; all the while, his chestnut eyes never even think about leaving yours. “now?” he tacks on, to make certain that you understand what exactly he’s asking for.

“kento,” you say breathily. his hand finds yours, fingers weaving in between your own, thinner ones. nanami’s latter hand finds purchase against your cheek, and he notes how it’s scalding to the touch.

“i want you right now.” that serves as the last little warning before your boyfriend brings your face to his in a long, sweet kiss. his tongue never breaches your lips, rather he waits for you to cave beneath the weight of your desperation first. he’s already shown you how much he needs you. all according to plan, your small hand reached up to wrench into his blonde locks, tonguing against nanami’s lower lip.

his thumb caresses your cheek bone, opening his mouth to press his tongue against your own. it’s hot and wet, intensifying when nanami groans into your mouth. “ke—” you breathe out broken bits of his name in between kisses, only for him to coo in response.

“i know,” nanami replies to your preening self. it’s funny to him, how despite himself being the one who propositioned you for sex, you are still somehow the more needy out of the both of you. the man pulls back from the kiss, warm breath fanning the tip of your nose. his hand pets over your mussed hair, smoothing it down and plucking stray strands out of your face. “will you let me eat you out, hon’?”

you’re nodding; of course you are, why wouldn’t you want his gorgeous face lapping between your thighs? nanami leans in again for another chaste peck on the lips before giving your ass a playful pat. “lean against the counter for me,” he demands gently, and you don’t need to be told twice. “tummy down, i want to taste you from the back.”

you’re quivering at his filthy words. “yes sir,” you manage to mewl out, finding the island in the center of your lavish kitchen and leaning forward, pressing your front against it. your ass was bared to nanami, who stared with greedy, lustful eyes. a crooked finger hooked into the collar of his too-tight tie, pulling it loose. “pull your pants down. slowly.”

you didn’t respond, instead reaching your arms back to grab at the hem of your booty shorts. they adhered to your figure, hugging your hips so tightly that you almost struggled to pull them down around the swell of your thighs. almost.

“you didn’t wear panties?”

you swallowed dryly, cheek pressed against the cold granite countertops. you yearned to get an eyeful of him instead of the bland wall you were stuck staring at. “i didn’t, i’m sorry.”

a large hand palmed over your ass cheek, giving it a heart squeeze. “don’t apologize,” nanami told you, letting his blunt nails hook into your flesh. “never apologize for that.”

silently, he dropped to his knees, coming down to stare at your bare pussy eye-level. god, you were so gorgeous, every fucking inch of your body. not a single flaw in sight as far as nanami could tell, and he was a very judgmental soul. adept fingers smooth up the backs of your thighs, grabbing heavy handfuls of your ass cheeks and spreading you apart. “you are so goddamn beautiful.”

“t-thank you, kento.” it was humiliating, knowing that he was back there, just staring like that. at the same time, it only made you needier, arching back to meet his fingers, his tongue, anything. “please—hng!”

he cut off your whining with a firm smack to the outside of your thing. not hard enough to hurt you, just enough to sting. “don’t rush me,” nanami scolded gently, using his thumbs as forceps to spread your pussy apart. “have patience, let me look at you like this.”

he admired every aspect of your body. every aspect. even the way your tight little hole clenched around nothing, spasming with the need to be licked—nanami only felt adoration as he watched. “god…” the man breathed out loud, leaning in to spit directly into your hole.

“hah,” you gasped in shock at his cold saliva smacking against your skin.

“she’s so perfect.” after what felt like hours of anticipation, nanami finally reeled in. you shuddered, a quiet moan ripping from your chest at the feeling of his tongue licking a long, languid stripe up your poor cunt. he, too, groaned against you. “you’re so… perfect, y/n.”

“thank y-yo—ah.” he never knew how to hold back when it came to eating you out. once that initial, teasing lick came and went, nanami had gone into full-blown starvation mode. hands pawing hungrily at the globes of your ass, his nose pressing perfectly against your soaked hole while his tongue worked on your clit.

“oh fuck yes,” nanami grunts, ignoring the aches in his knee pads that rested against the unforgiving kitchen tiles. he was too infatuated with your flavor, with your scent, to even feel the dull pain. each suckle was hot in the throes of passion, your man pressing the entirety of his face between your cheeks and slobbering, as if he were some sort of dog rather than the well-put-together, no-nonsense man you knew him as.

“k—ken…” your stomach flipped, that familiar heat buzzing around like bees in your naval. trembling hands reached back, blindly grabbing at those soft tresses of nanami’s hair to ground yourself. “oh god.”

another quick smack against your hip, followed by a rougher squeeze, left you whining. “don’t cum,” nanami says, tone doused in pure authority. “don’t fucking cum yet.” and you don’t, because the way nanami uttered those strict words made you inclined to do as he says. that was arguable one of nanami’s favorite things about you; you’d always been such a good little listener.

he’s not an evil man, though. nanami can feel the way you struggle to contain your climax, he feels your cunt twitching and leaking against his lips. so, he lets up, instead trailing a line of wet, open-mouthed kisses along one of your ass cheeks, grabbing the other in his hand. “i’m going to fuck you now,” he tells you, nipping at your hot skin.

you’re limp against the countertop, still brewing in the light of your ruined orgasm. “please,” you beg quietly, shooting a pitiful glance over your shoulder, wiggling your ass back enticingly. nanami stands, using a hand to smooth up your tailbone and disappear beneath the thin fabric of your tank top. he pushes the shirt up, just enough to expose the small of your flawless back. he found the little divots above your ass adorable, pressing his thumbs into the dimples.

“i’ve got you.” not that you needed reassurance, you always felt safe in the palm of nanami’s gentle hands. but it was still nice to hear. he made quick work of unbuckling his expensive belt, thumb popping open the buttons of his cream colored slacks. “i never said thank you.”

barely registering nanami’s words, you grumble out a confused, “huh?”

“for dinner.” nanami has his heavy cock pulled out through the hole of his briefs, his spit-soaked hand stroking tentatively while he eyes your fluttering cunt. “i never said thank you for cooking such an amazing meal.”

you shake your head, swallowing when you feel the tip of his fat cockhead drag through your folds. “don’t.. don’t have t’ thank me, ken.”

“oh, but i do.” a dress shoe pushes against your own foot, forcing your legs to spread further. “you’re so good to me everyday, y/n. i just want you to know how much i appreciate everything you do for me.”

gosh, nanami was so sweet. even in the midst of a sweaty, sex-coated haze, never failed to communicate his feelings for you. “i know,” you give a wobbly smile over your shoulder. “i love you, kento.”

his massive body leans against over your tiny frame, thick fingers threading through your hair to pull your head back. “i love you too, my sweet girl.” nanami kisses you, a soft press of his lips on yours that ultimately taste of your unique musk. through the sensual warmth of his mouth, you feel his dick ease its way inside. your eyes screw shut, teeth sinking into nanami’s lower lip.

it’s a silent exchange of breathy pants as he sinks deeper and deeper, all the way to the hilt of your pussy. nanami wasn’t oblivious to his hulking size, he knew all too well how painful the initial stretch was for you. “how’s that?” he asks against your lips, ginger voice a stark contrast from the rough intrusion. his hand stroked your sweaty hair, “too much?”

you’re quick with your rebuttal, pawing at his wrist. “no,” the word chokes out. “no, please, keep going.”

“are you sure?”

“positive.”

“okay,” he whispers, pressing a final, chaste kiss to your lips before leaning back and straightening up. nanami was utterly infatuated with the sight before him; his hips shoved up against your ass, waist tapered and spine arched just for him. god, he needed this. he deserved this after such a long day of dealing with idiots.

nanami reels his hips back, snaking his fingers around the width of your upper thighs to pull your malleable body into his. immediately, those honey colored eyes roll back into his skull—you’re just so fucking wet and tight, his own personal slice of heaven. “oh,” nanami is groaning quietly, shamelessly, unafraid to vocalize how good you make him feel.

“kento,” you huff, voice squeaking in between each hard, deep thrust nanami blesses you with. this is exactly how he preferred to take you, bent over, battering your weeping pussy with hard strokes. he knew you loved the way he fucked you slow.

“i love you,” nanami says again, breathless and cracking with the vice of pleasure. he was never great at what they call dirty talking. nanami couldn’t, in good conscience, muster up the willpower to call the love of his life degrading names like whore or slut or, god forbid, bitch. it made his dick limp. no, nanami much preferred to fill in the gaps of love making with little praises or declarations of love. “i love you so much.”

“i… i love…” you desperately tried to get the words out, but nanami truly had you panting like a dumb dog. drool had dribbled from your lips, puddling beneath your cheek on the granite while you laid there and took everything your man gave you.

one of his hands left your waist, walking up to clench around the line of your shoulder pad. nanami used it as leverage to pull you in with more force, making you scream. “are you going to cum?” he asks.

you don’t answer. you can’t.

“hey,” he buries the entirety of his dick within the confines of your walls, leaning over your body once again. his broad chest is warm against your back. nanami drags his tongue over the shell of your ear, before reiterating his question in a quieter voice. “are you going to finish?”

your head is nodding, whimpering out a small “yes.”

his face wears a satisfied expression before his buries it in the crook of your sweaty neck. “i want to cum with you,” nanami says, planting kisses behind your ear.

you nod again, but before you can speak, nanami is grinding himself into you, effectively cutting you off. his heavy body rests atop yours, smothering you completely in his warmth, his scent, his everything. his mouth never leaves the skin of your neck, relishing in the salty taste of sweat that resides there. “c’mon,” he nips.

“ken, fuck!” you were teetering on the edge, eyes bolted shut, teeth clenched. his hand came up to rest over the back of yours that was pressed against the cool surface of the counter, interlocking fingers.

“cum,” he growls, and you don’t need to be told twice. your vision whitens, blurring around the edges as you force your cheek impossibly further against the expensive granite. tears bleed out, camouflaged by the beads of sweat that already dabbled your face.

your pussy constricted his cock as it spasmed, forcing the sexiest groan to claw its way up nanami’s throat. he becomes animalistic when the cusp of his orgasm hits, rising on the balls of his feet to rear himself into your cunt as deep as you’ll let him. “jesus christ,” he grunts through gritted teeth, depositing his load in the deepest parts of his precious woman.

the man shudders, knitting his brows together as he tried to recuperate from the ten-ton force of that incredible orgasm. “thank you,” he heaves, still pressed deep against you.

“i said—” you pause to take a much-needed deep breath, “you don’t have t’ thank me. dinner only took a few hours.”

he hugs you from behind, his forehead connected to the back of your thin neck. “not for the food.” nanami turns his head, nuzzling his cheek between your shoulder blades. “thank you for letting me make love to you, hon’.”

you’re flushing. despite the seven inch dick still snug inside of you, nanami’s words were enough to have your cheek heat. “i’m more than happy to… let you. anytime.”

“you’re too sweet,” he chuckles through his exhaustion, reluctantly pulling himself out from your heat. nanami tucks himself back into his slacks, fingering the wet stain that soaked through the crotch area. he’d have to make a pit stop to the dry cleaners tomorrow before work. he reached for a clean dish rag, wetting it in the sink. “let me clean you up real quick, then i definitely want to try that chicken.”