Latest Posts by tunatober - Page 2

Tuna-tober Day 7

Prompt: Nightmare

Pairing: Michael Kinsella x Reader

Word Count: 468

At first, you're unsure what woke you up. The room is still dark and cold. The latter of which you combat by burrowing deeper into your blankets. You're just prepared to drift back off when you hear it. 

A whimper followed by shuffling of the sheets. 

You immediately roll over and face Michael, who is fast asleep next to you, and the events of the night come slamming back to you. 

You're not home, in your own bed. You're at Michael's, sleeping over for the first time. And if the noises coming out of him are any indicator, he's having a nightmare. 

“Oh, Michael…” You whisper. You want to reach over and touch him, shake him from his dream. But you know that can be dangerous and you don't want to put either of you in a bad situation. So you gently call out to him. 

“Michael…come on, sweetheart, wake up. It's just a dream.”

His face scrunches up and he rolls over to face you but he doesn't wake. 

“Michael. Michael, sweetheart, wake up. I'm right here. You're only dreaming.” You long to reach out and cup his face, smooth the worry lines on his face, but again you decide not to risk it.

It takes a few more tries but eventually Michael's eyes snap open. You can tell he's disoriented at first so you continue to softly talk to him.

“Hey, hey. It's okay. It was just a dream. You're here with me. You're safe.” You tell him.

He rasps out your name and you finally reach for him. Gently you take his face in your hands, doing your best to soothe him.

“Yeah, Micheal, it's me. I'm here.” You coo softly. His eyes flutter close and he leans into your hands. For several moments it's quiet.

“Are you okay?” You ask him quietly. 

“Yea.” He says thickly. “Jus a bad dream. Tha's all.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Your question comes out gentle. You only want him to talk if he wants to. You definitely don't want to push him. So you're not disappointed when he shakes his head no.

“No. No, I- I would ratha go back ta sleep.”

“Okay, Mikey.” You gently rub your thumbs over his cheeks before withdrawing your hands. He shudders at the loss of contact.

“Can I hold ya? Jus til we go back ta sleep.”

“You can hold me as long as you like.” You tell him. He immediately pulls you in, letting you roll over so your body can slot up against his. 

With the two of you snug in bed, you both eventually drift back off. With you in his arms, Michael spends the rest of the night with pleasant dreams. 

And when he wakes in the morning, he's forgotten all about his nightmare.

✨🐟TUNA-TOBER FIC DETECTED 🐟✨

✨🐟CALCULATING... CALCULATING... 🐟✨

✨🐟PROMPTS FILLED: FALLING ASLEEP IN A HOSPITAL ROOM🐟✨

✨🐟Find the rest of the Tuna-Tober prompts here, and remember to follow to see what other prompt fics these writers might drop this October!🐟 ✨

THE BOSS

Hello, as I promise this is my Day 1 (Falling Asleep In A Hospital Room) from Tuna-Tober prompts, I’ll try to keep up with all the prompts! If anyone have an idea they would like to see they can send me an ask, in the mean time I hope you like this and I’m sorry about the grammars mistake, lots of loves!

——————

When you got the news that you got the job you apply you were excited, you were going to work for one of the most intelligent men in the world, but he was different of what you imagined, he always was on his office or in his secret room, the only time you saw him was on the night, when you share some food together and most of the time he get drunk and making you help him to get in to his room. You tried to be nice or have at least one conversation with him but he always pretend that you weren’t there.One morning you were in the kitchen minding on your own business, you were looking at some numbers when you heard someone getting in to the kitchen.

-Nathan.

-Yn- you were a little surprise to heard him saying your name -you looked surprise.

-Well I wasn’t sure that you knew my name.

-I hire you of course I know your name.

-You’re wrong, the board of your company hired me, you just following orders…

-What? Who told you that?- he asked.

-You- he look at you confuse -it was my second day here, you told me that I should leave because you didn’t want me here, that you only tolerate me, because the board make you do it.

-And why did you staid- he asked making you shrugged.

-I need it the money, and it’s going to look good on my curriculum.

-I like to say that I’m sorry…

-But you’ll be lying right?- you asked.

-In that moment yes, but if im honest, I like to see you’re pretty face around- he said and you felt the heat appearing in your face -uh, you look more cute when you blush- he winked at you.

You thought that would be the last interaction with him but suddenly he start to show up more around the house, sometimes he have dinner or lunch with you, you were starting to get used to him, he also chance his actitud with you, he start to open more about his past and his feeling.

-So?- he asked you one night when you were watching a horror movie alone, when he talked you couldn’t help but jump.

-fuck Nathan, you almost gave a heart attack- you said trying to calm yourself as you paused the movie.

-So?- he repeated the question.

-So what?- you asked.

-Where do you get this weird taste to watch horror movies by yourself?

-My dad, he like this kind of thing and when he thought I was ready to watched them we used to spend hours in front of the television watching them, and on halloween we spend the night always do a marathon and spend the night eating a lot of candies and popcorns.

-That sounds…. Healthy- he said making you roll your eyes.

So?- you asked this time

-So what?- He asked.

-where do you get your love for the technology?

-my mom, she was amazing, she went to MIT, top of her class, everyone said she had a great future above her- he said with a soft smile.

-Did she?- you asked, he shook his head.

-She met my father- you notice how his smile fade away- At first everything was like a fairy tale or at least that’s what she said, they go out together, they used to joke, they used to dance… they were happy, but something happened, they get married, he make her quit college, he start to chances, he was angry most part of the time, he never hit her but I knew she start to be afraid of him- you took his hand -If you think he was an awful husband, he was worst as a father.

-I’m sorry- you said.

-You didn’t do anything- he said, you didn’t care and you hug him, before you new it, you were kissing, his hand was rubbing your cheek making you blush -I’m sorry I usually don’t do this until a date is done.

-Then I own you a date- he said with a smirk making you giggle -anyway I came here to tell you that we’ll have a guest.

-Is he going to test Ava?- he look at you surprised -come on Nathan I live here I know what’s happening, beside I can see your mail remember? You send yourself notes.

-oh so you’re not just smart, you’re also noisy- he said making your eyes rolled.

The days pass by, Caleb was excited with Ava, he spends hours talking to Ava always supervised by Nathan, you notices there was something odd in Nathan’s attitude but he became distance and the same angry man he was when you start to work for him, he even start to drink more than he usually did. One night you were working on the living room when Nathan came in and he sat in front of you.

-I need you to leave- he said.

-What? are you going to give me some vacations?- you asked smiling, but his face didn’t change, he looks down -Nathan?

-I’m firing you, Yn- he said looking at you.

-What? But Nathan I thought that…

-That what? That we have a connection? That’s something stupid people say to get laid or have something in return, you were just here for a job you need to do and now that Ava is finish I don’t need you.

-You can’t be serious

-Yes I am, the helicopter comes in three hours, so you better pack your stuff, the mail from the company should be on your email now.

You were in shock for a few seconds, even when you were packing your things you still were confuse about what happened. It was until the helicopter landed that something click in your head, he can’t fired you like that, he can’t just told you that without an explanation, so before you knew it you were heading back to the house ready to tell Nathan everything you think, but what you saw will be print in your mind forever, you saw Ava stabbed Nathan in the stomach you took a piece of metal from the floor and hit Ava.

-Nathan- you said as you kneel beside him -It’s ok, you’ll be ok- you said as you try to call the pilot.

-Yn…

After that everything was a little blurry, you couldn’t remember how you got in to the hospital or how long you wait until a doctor told you that he was out of surgery, you didn’t knew when you fall asleep, you just feel someone playing with your hair.

-You weren’t supposed to be there

-You’re welcome for saving your life- you said.

-I mean it, you could be hurt or it could killed you- he said.

-that’s why you said all those things?- he didn’t answer -I don’t really now what I stay here… I’m sorry for staying I hope you have a good life Nathan.

-why did you decline the job offer on the university? - he asked you.

-How did you…

-It was a good thing, a good salary, your own department and laboratory… if you do it because I like you, this was good for you Yn…

-You like me?- you giggled a little -you have a funny way to show it up, you know.

-Yn this is serious.

-So am I, I didn’t reject it because I like you, I didn’t picture my self giving lectures, the only thing I like on that offer was the experiment part.

-You could told me that.

-Well you never asked, beside I didn’t thought it was important, I wasn’t going to take the job and if I’m honest I forgot about it- you said -beside why do you care?

-I…- he got silence for a moment -I thought I was taking from you a great opportunity, that if you didn’t go you’ll end up hating me for it.

-So you take a decision? But it was my decision not yours…

-I’m sorry, I make a mistake- you giggled.

-That’s something I never thought I heard you said- you said making him smile -how are you feeling?

-It hurts a little…

-Let me go found a nurse.

-No, just stay with me, please- he said, you sit on the edge of the bed -I was worry about you, when I saw you on that hall, I panicked, the only thing I thought was you getting hurt or worst and that I won’t have anything good in my life- he said as he cupped your cheek.

-Fuck Nathan I hate how good you are talking.

-Yn- he said looking at your eyes -would you be on a date with me.

-Yes, I like that, just promise me something.

-What ever you said.

-Please don’t take me anywhere near a robot- both of you laughed.

Xxxxx

Tag list: @writefightandflightclub @multifandomlife22 @mattmurdocksscars @phoenixhalliwell @autumnleaves1991-blog @supernovafeather @santigarcia @itspdameronthings @ahookedheroespureheart @later-gators12 @22carolina08 @poppyflower-22

If you want me to add you to my taglist please let me know🙈

✨🐟TUNA-TOBER FIC DETECTED 🐟✨

✨🐟CALCULATING... CALCULATING... 🐟✨

✨🐟PROMPTS FILLED: "Open your mouth" + "Let me see what that pretty mouth can do."🐟✨

✨🐟Find the rest of the Tuna-Tober prompts here, and remember to follow to see what other prompt fics these writers might drop this October!🐟 ✨

Day 6 - Kneel

Prompts: 9: “Open your mouth.” + 27: “Let me see what that pretty mouth can do.” Character: Matt Murdock Reader: Matt Murdock x Reader Word Count: 1545 Warnings: Explicit smut, dirty talk, oral sex (m receiving), mild hair-pulling, gentle mouth fucking, the Black Suit of Sin, the Devil of Hell's Kitchen. Taglist: @loves0phelia, @nowheredreamer, @beezusvreeland, @yarrystyleeza, @justvalkyrie, @shouldbestudying41 Tuna-Tober 2024 Masterlist

A little later than I originally planned but I hope worth the wait.

Kneel

The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen was somewhere in this apartment. Your only light was the billboard outside. It transformed your apartment from somewhere familiar into an forbidding landscape of crimson and shadows. Your Devil favored the shadows, only letting you catch glimpses of him as he stalked around on eerily silent feet.

It was easy to see why he had scared the piss out of people.

Not you. You found it exciting. In more ways than one. Your heart might be racing but there was also a wet heat forming between your legs.

A dark chuckle merged from the shadows behind you. “Haven’t even touched you and your body is already begging me. Are you so eager to be fucked by the Devil?”

You couldn’t deny that so you didn’t try. “Yes.”

“Naughty girl.” His breath ghosted over your ear. You shuddered. He was close enough to your back that you could feel the heat of his body.

Then, just as suddenly as he had appeared, he disappeared.

Not entirely. You knew he was somewhere in the apartment. You couldn’t see him. Couldn’t hear him moving around. But you knew he was there. Beyond the unlikeliness of him abandoning the little game you were playing without a warning, you could just feel his presence. The sensation of being observed.

Your breathing sounded inordinately loud in the otherwise silent apartment. Your Devil remained in the shadows, letting the anticipation build.

Then he appeared in front of you with a suddenness that made you gasp.

The red light bathing his body seemed to highlight every visible muscle. Of which there were many as the black suit fit your Devil like a second skin. You couldn’t help staring, greedily drinking in those broad shoulders, powerful chest, defined abs, and thick thighs. Nor did you miss the bulge tenting those pants.

Your cunt clenched around nothing. If you hadn’t already been aching for him before, you would be now.

The Devil before you was fully aware of effect he was having on you. You could see it in that smirk. The way he licked his lips before he moved close. His walk was unhurried but with an unmistakably predatory slink. Rather like a cat stalking after a mouse. Apt. As you did feel rather like prey.

But not in a bad way, you thought, pressing your thighs together in an effort to not squirm. Something that did not escape the Devil standing directly in front of you. That confident smirk spread wider. Feeling your cheeks warm, your gaze dropped to your bare feet. So close to his heavy black boots, they looked . . . dainty. Fragile.

Matt wasn’t an exceptionally large man. But something about the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen made you feel almost small . . . no, that wasn’t the right word . . . maybe delicate? Yes. You felt delicate, standing before the Devil dressed in an almost sheer negligee that was - barely - long enough to cover your ass.

Delicate. And more than a little naughty. Your Devil had really hit the nail on the head with that one.

A gloved hand gripped your chin. The grip was gentle but you could feel the strength in his hand. The careful control of that strength. He tipped your head back, pulling your eyes away from your feet. Your breath caught. You had never met anyone else who could give you the feeling of intense, intimate eye contact without actually meeting your eyes. But your Devil could. In many ways, having his full attention on you felt even more intense, more intimate, than mere eye contact.

And this close, you could see the hair dusting his jaw. Not quite long enough to be called a beard but too thick to be called stubble. He hadn’t been shaving. And you hoped that this behavior continued. You couldn’t put into words why exactly the idea of your Devil with a beard was so hot. You just knew that it was.

His fingers tightened, then he was kissing you. It was not gentle. Kiss was almost too mild of a word. An explosion of passion where he all but devoured you with his lips, teeth, and tongue. A kiss that deepened when his hand slid to cup the side of your face and tipped your head back further.

You returned his kiss with just as much fire. His other arm snaked around your back and pulled you against him. You moaned into his mouth, your fingers digging into his arms. You wished that erection pressed against your bare thigh wasn’t trapped in his pants. You ached for him.

You whined when the Devil broke off the kissing. Even if he looked really pretty with his lips kiss-swollen. He ran his thumb across your lip. You shivered, tempting to see just how much your Devil could feel through those gloves . . .

“Such a sweet mouth,” he mused. You shuddered. His Devil voice always did things to you but this quiet, almost conversational tone? Similar to his courtroom voice but deeper and richer? That really sent the tingles straight to your cunt.

If his other careers didn’t work out, your Devil had a bright future in erotic audiobooks. Didn’t even need to be erotic. Reading the phonebook in that voice would leave anyone hot and bothered.

“Is there more that this sweet mouth can do?”

You nodded eagerly.

“Well then,” he said. “Kneel. Let me see what this pretty mouth can do.”

You were quick to comply. As you sank to your knees, the Devil reached for his belt. Soon he was tugging down his pants and boxers. But only just far enough to free his cock. As far as dicks went, your Devil had a pretty one. Long, thick, and already leaking. Your mouth watered at the sight.

You gripped his cock in one hand and licked up one of the beads of pre-cum trailing down the side. The Devil hissed. Then, feeling suddenly mischievous, you stuck with licking. Short, flat swipes of your tongue up and down his cock. But you give particular attention to the head and that little sensitive spot just under it.

Hands grabbed your hair, firm but not painful, then pulled your head back to look at his face. The Devil’s snarl should have been scary. Was meant to be frightening. And it certainly was intimidating. But you also found it incredibly sexy.

Something, judging the flaring on his nostrils, that was not missed by your Devil.

“Very naughty girl,” he growled. “Teasing the Devil . . . soaking your panties . . . such a bad, bad girl.”

You moaned, feeling your cunt clench around nothing. The grip on your hair tightened. Not exactly painful, just the slightest sting.

“But I’ll have no more of your teasing, naughty girl. Open your mouth.”

You obeyed. He feed his cock into your waiting mouth. In a sharp contrast to his air of aggression, this was done slowly and carefully. Your Devil’s reckless streak was reserved entirely for himself. You? Not so much. 

Even with your Devil’s caution, it didn’t take long for you both to find a good rhythm. Your ears were filled with his grunts and moans along with the wet sounds of his cock filling your mouth again and again . . . the deep groans when you swallow around him . . . 

Your jaw is starting to get sore but you don’t care. You love it. Feeling your lips stretch over his girth . . . . the heavy weight on your tongue . . . the salty-bitter taste . . . that all you can smell is your Devil’s unique blend of leather, copper, spices, and old paper . . . .  you loved it all . . .

You could absolutely understand why your Devil couldn’t get enough of burying his face in your cunt.

You moaned around his cock, then felt his rhythm get sloppy. He was getting close. You moaned around him again. Digging your nails into his bare ass, you encouraged his cock further into your mouth. The deepest down your throat he had ever been. His hands, still tangled in your hair, pulled as he swore and came.

After one last suck that your Devil swearing again, you let his limp cock slip out of your mouth. Leaning your head against his legs, you closed your eyes and tried to catch your breath.

As you did, you became aware of other things. Like the aching need in your neglected cunt . . .

“Take them off.”

“What?” you asked, confused by the growled command.

“Your panties. Take them off.”

That sounded like a great idea. Your panties were uncomfortably wet. Accomplishing this was a little awkward but you managed, throwing the soiled panties somewhere into the shadows. But your Devil wasn’t done making demands.

“Stand up.”

“Why?” you asked, even as you complied with this newest demand.

A dark chuckle. “Oh, naughty girl, did you think we were done?”

He herded you backwards until your back hit the wall. “Do you think I can’t smell just how soaked that pussy is for me?”

He put his hands on the wall, either side of your head. Boxing you in. His grin was fierce . . . feral. “Because I can. And I intend to drink my fill.”

As the Devil began to sink down to his knees, he added one last command. “And naughty girl? You better not hold back a single sound.”

✨🐟TUNA-TOBER ART DETECTED 🐟✨

✨🐟CALCULATING... CALCULATING... 🐟✨

✨🐟PROMPTS FILLED: FALLING ASLEEP IN A HOSPITAL ROOM🐟✨

✨🐟Find the rest of the Tuna-Tober prompts here, and remember to follow to see what other prompt fics these writers might drop this October!🐟 ✨

I had plans to doodle a Tuna-Tober Prompt every day of October, but life kinda got in the way and I’ve been really busy. So I’ve only managed Day 1 - Falling Asleep in A Hospital Room so far! I used that yummy photo of Matt falling asleep in his apartment bare-chested for reference, but added a disheveled suit because he’s been sitting beside Reader’s hospital bedside for a long time, bless him! It’s very rough and scribbly, and his anatomy isn’t perfect. 

Traditional art. A4. 4B pencil. Photo ref -

Uncropped version -

✨🐟TUNA-TOBER FIC DETECTED 🐟✨

✨🐟CALCULATING... CALCULATING... 🐟✨

✨🐟PROMPTS FILLED: WATER GUN FIGHT🐟✨

✨🐟Find the rest of the Tuna-Tober prompts here, and remember to follow to see what other prompt fics these writers might drop this October!🐟 ✨

"From A Squirt Gun, With Love" (Bucky Barnes x F!Reader, Fic)

Time for the next prompt for my Tuna-Tober prompt challenge! This is for day 5's prompt: water gun fight. It's also been a while since I've written for my favorite super soldier, so today's prompt is for Bucky Barnes! You can see the rest of the prompts I've chosen here if you'd like to know what's coming this month from me. Also, if you'd like notifications when I post a new story, drabble, or chapter, you can follow my sideblog @pastaxandria and set it for notifications! Side note, once I've got more these will all be edited a bit more and placed on my AO3, so if you lose one, just keep an eye out over there!

Ship: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Wordcount: 1.5k

Warnings for this chapter, let's do this: some suggestive dialogue and innuendo

You couldn’t afford another mistake. 

He’d been hunting you for at least an hour now, stalking you determinedly through the corridors of the compound and the manicured gardens outside. He’d already nailed you half a dozen times. And much to your disbelief, one of those times was because he’d somehow managed to find his way up into the air vents where he could track you unseen. You’d done your best to at least make it a challenge for him, relying on a variety of traps you’d managed to set up ahead of time, but it hadn’t done you as much good as you’d hoped, your hit count a measly two against his six. And now? Now you were running low on ammunition, and just as low on workable options. What was worse, he’d cornered you in the garage. You’d been able to tuck yourself beneath an SUV before he could see you, but there was only one exit—one currently being monitored by your annoyingly precise marksman of a boyfriend. 

You held your breath at the quiet scrape of heavy combat boots scuffing against the concrete floor. If you had to guess, he was wandering around about two rows over and off to your left. He could have bent over and just scanned beneath the cars immediately, but he was enjoying this far too much to let it end that easily. He was toying with you, dragging things out now that he had you boxed in. 

“I know you’re in here, doll,” came his low chuckle. “Come on out, and I’ll go easy on you. Besides, you gotta be soaked by now, and not in the fun way. But I can change that for you if you want. All you gotta do is pop that pretty head up for me.”

Not a chance. 

You weren’t going down without a fight. 

You clutched your water gun tighter, checking the glowing tactical display—you hadn’t even known high-tech water guns existed until Bucky had dropped one into your hands with a grin. “If my girl wants a water gun fight, we’re gettin’ a water gun fight.” 

And what you saw wasn’t good. 

Shit. 

You were down to eighteen percent tank capacity. Anywhere else in the compound, you might have had a chance to reload with one of the buckets you’d both scattered around, but you’d forgotten to put one in the garage. If you didn’t get him with your next shot, you were done. 

“The fact that you’re not out here shootin’ at me like before tells me you’re low.” His voice sounded different now: higher up, and a bit more distant. Had he… climbed on top of the cars? “You need more practice. I’ll admit, I was proud of you when you got that ass shot in, but that ain’t happenin’ again. My turn to get your ass now, darlin’. You gonna give me what’s mine?”

You sucked your lower lip for a moment before carefully edging your way forward, water gun held in front of you just in case he decided to pull a horror movie move and drop into view. It wasn’t easy. The goddamn water gun was shaped more like a shotgun than a super soaker, clunky and a bitch to drag around. The upside was it had an automatic reload so you didn’t have to worry about making any noise while pumping the gun. Its range was good for a water gun, around twenty feet, but not good enough that you could shoot Bucky at distance. You’d need to get close.

One of the cars down the row creaked, tires groaning, presumably as your massive super soldier of a boyfriend strolled along the top of the cars like they were paving stones. That he wasn’t bothering to be silent was… unusual.

“Here, kitty kitty,” he purred, his voice growing fainter as he wandered down towards the other end of the garage. “Where’s my pretty girl gone?”

On the one hand, you enjoyed hearing that tone from him, playful and relaxed, warm and content. He’d grown pretty comfortable with you, open and affectionate, over the time you’d known him. That comfort, that openness with you had only blossomed further as your relationship had morphed into something romantic. But even so, it was still unusual for him to let go like this just so he could have fun. It was progress, and that knowledge filled your heart with a sparkling warmth. 

But you also couldn’t help but be the least bit suspicious, because it would be absolutely like him to use his voice and playful tone to distract you from something. 

You froze again when a pair of boots suddenly appeared on the concrete in front of you, landing without a sound—you’d been right; all the sound a minute ago had been to try to lure you out, make you think he was farther away than he really was. You didn’t dare move, not when the slightest sound might give you away. Slowly, the boots shifted on the concrete as he turned one way, and then the other. Waiting for you to make a run for it. 

But he’d taught you better than that. 

There was the softest, quietest little huff of amusement, or maybe pride, instead. But instead of heading off, he began to kneel. 

Shit, shit, shit—

He was going to duck down and look under the car. He knew you were here, he had to. He had to. Could you shift the angle of your water gun before he leaned down and saw you—

Fortunately for you, it became clear a second later that he was only lowering himself into a crouch. You stilled again in the shadows beneath the SUV, your gun still aimed cautiously at his legs.

Speaking of wish, you had a really good view of his thighs at this angle. With him crouched the way he was, his thighs looked even thicker than usual, deliciously hard muscle covered in old denim. The round curve of his ass looked just as good where he filled out his jeans, though the dark splotch on the tight fabric made you grin. It was a testament to one of the only two shots you’d managed to him with. Sure, he’d shot you twice in the ass in retaliation, but it had been absolutely worth it. 

He settled onto the balls of his feet, rocking a little back and forth. You heard a soft whir, before his metal hand appeared in your view. Your heart skipped a beat, a droplet of maybe-water-maybe-sweat rolling down your temple. Only… his hand didn’t appear to be going for you like you’d expected. Instead, it slipped down to the concrete. One metal fingertip gleaming in the fluorescent lighting, it brushed lightly at the droplets of water drying on the concrete. 

Fresh droplets. 

From you. 

Crap. 

His head appeared beneath the SUV as he leaned over to meet your eye. Then he flashed you a feral grin. “Hi doll,” he said smugly. “Hi Bucky. I love you,” you said fondly, and shot him in the face. 

His head reared back as he spat out a curse, frantically swiping the water away from his face. It gave you just enough time for you to squirm out from under the SUV and take off down row between the cars, your sneakers slapping against the concrete, the wind blowing your hair back. If you could get to the door before he did, you could turn around and lock him in. It wouldn’t keep him here forever, but it might buy you a few minutes to reload. 

Based on the rapidly pounding footsteps behind you, though, you weren’t even going to get close. Not when it sounded like he was charging after you with every last bit of super-soldier-powered speed he had. You needed another plan, or else—

Something slammed hard against one of the cars behind you, startling you enough to make you stumble. In that brief moment of distraction, Bucky had vaulted himself up off the car and over your head. 

His broad form landed smoothly in front of you in one easy motion, dropping into a crouch. He rose slowly, powerful muscle gradually uncoiling inch by inch, until finally he loomed up over you, water gun held ominously in one hand. His pale eyes had gone dark with heat, pupils blown wide as he fixated on you: his prey. He took one prowling step forward, a flash of pink from his tongue as he lazily licked the droplets of water away from his mouth.

“You shot me,” he rumbled hungrily. “I should be mad. But damn, doll. That was hot.” “Hot enough to stop you from shooting me back?” you asked hopefully.

“Not a chance,” he said with a smirk, before firing a blast of cold water directly at your abdomen. You let out another shriek, turning to sprint away from him, a trail of damp footprints left behind. And if your shriek was half laughter, well, his playful growl was just as full of joy as he took off after you. 

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✨🐟PROMPTS FILLED: READING TO EACH OTHER🐟✨

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Day 1 - Reading to Each Other

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader Word Count: 827 Content: Fluff!! Long distance relationship (but like not really), no use of y/n, gender neutral reader Tuna-Tober 2024 Masterlist <- check out the other fics posted this month!

A/N: And so we begin. . . five days late but it's alright! I cheated the prompt a lil bit; it's for a good cause, trust me. Be sure to like and reblog if you enjoy and let me know if you want to be a part of a taglist!

“One whole week?!” Foggy cries out, “How will you ever survive without them?”

Matt shakes his head and goes back to feeling the braille for the newest case they’re working on. “I’ll be fine.”

“Right.” Foggy stretches the word out and looks over to you. You’re standing by the entrance of Nelson, Murdock and Page arms crossed and giving the both of them a knowing look. 

“It’ll go by faster than you think,” 

Foggy laughs and walks over to the kitchen. “Are you reassuring me or Foggy?” Matt asks.

“Yes.”

“Ha!”

You glance behind you and stick your tongue out at Foggy, he reciprocates.

“But really, it will be okay Matt,” You walk over to him and hug his shoulders. He smiles up towards you and sighs. “I do have a surprise, but you gotta promise me you won’t listen to it unless you miss me.”

Matt raises an eyebrow, “Oh? And what would it be?”

You roll your eyes at him, “It wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you, now would it?”

You reach into your pocket and pull out a beat-up mp3 player. You flip it around in your hand, trying to calm your nerves before holding it out in front of Matt. 

His smile increases as you gently take his hand and put the mp3 player in it. He wants to laugh at how nervous you are, your heartbeat absolutely pounding out of control, it’s so cute.

“Don’t laugh!” You bring a hand up to cover your embarrassment. Maybe a small chuckle did escape, it’s worth it to feel your blood rushing towards your face. You shake your head, trying to clear your head. You glance at the clock on the wall and your breathing increases.

“Oh god, I’m going to be late for the Amtrak.” You mumble. You give Matt a quick peck on his lips before rushing out the front door. 

“I’ll call you once I get to the hotel, or if I get bored on the train.” You wave goodbye and before Matt could say goodbye back you’re gone.

The rest of the day passes by so slowly for Matt that by the time he gets back into his apartment he just wants to hold you in his arms. . .but you’re not home.

He tries his best to shake off the lonely feeling slowly creeping into his chest. It’s been months since you and Matt have been apart for more than a day and he already feels like he’s losing it. 

Matt takes a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves. You were simply going away for work and would be home soon. His phone buzzes and he reaches into his pocket. Opening it up he hears the automated voice tell him, “One new message: Arrived at the hotel and already missing you. Be careful tonight, I love you; heart emoji, devil emoji.”

He smirks and sends an audio message back. “I miss you too Sweetheart. I’ll be sure to give you a call in the morning before I head to court. I love you.”

“Message sent.” The automated voice informs.

Surprisingly while the Devil patrols there isn’t a whole lot of activity that he needs to deal with. A few carjackings here and there as well as a couple of muggers, but thankfully nothing big. Once he gets back to his apartment, Matt starts removing his suit and tries to meditate, but his mind is clouded with thoughts of you though.

Words cannot describe how much he misses your gentle hands grounding him and helping him release the stress from patrolling. He misses the way you would read out whatever story you’re reading that night while he rests his head on your chest, helping him drift off to sleep.

Wait. . . what was on that mp3 player?

He walks over to his bedroom and reaches for his jacket laying on the ground. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out the mp3 you gave him earlier in the day. He finds a pair of spare earbuds and sits on the edge of the bed.

Unsure of what he’s going to hear he tentatively presses play and waits.

“Hello Matty! I know I’m going to be gone for a while so I thought to make a couple recordings of what I’m currently reading. If you want I made a recording for 6 chapters that way you can listen to one each night that I’m gone.”

He smiles. He can feel a warm feeling grow in his chest; a reassurance that you will be there to help him no matter what. Your voice rings out starting to read aloud the chapter you were currently reading for your book and as you read aloud you sometimes pause and give your opinions on what’s happening to Matt before getting back into character and reading the story again.

He finished all 6 recordings that night, which you scolded him for once you got back home.

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Tuna-tober Day 5

Time for day 5! Hope yall are enjoying these little blurbs.

Prompt: Watergun fight

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader

Word Count: 525

You were up to something. Matt knew it. As he slotted his key into the door, he tilted his head to get a better sense of the room. You seemed to be hiding behind the couch holding… a gun? No, not a gun. He couldn't smell the metal and gunpowder that came with guns. But the shape of what you were holding was definitely a gun. 

Slowly, he opened the door and stepped in. 

“Sweetheart?” He called cautiously. When you didn't answer, he huffed a small laugh.

“I know you're in here, sweetheart. What are you up to?” He asked, slipping his shoes off and setting his cane aside. He heard you giggle quietly and slowly walked down the hallway. As soon as he hit the end of the hallway and entered the living room, you moved. You popped up from behind the couch and next thing he knew, he was getting hit in the face with water. He sputtered, hands darting up in surrender. 

“What-”

“Surprise! Welcome home, Matt.” You snickered, spraying him again. “Foggy got me this for my birthday. Figured I'd test it out on my poor, unsuspecting boyfriend. The wet shirt look is a good look for you, by the way. You could definitely win a wet t-shirt contest.”

“Thanks.” He said dryly, running a hand down his face to wipe off the water. Suddenly, he smirked. You frowned and lowered your water gun.

“Matt… what's that look for?” With a grin, he pounced at you, swiping for the water gun. You only just dodged with a yelp. Running around the couch, you pointed the water gun back at him.

“Don't come any closer!” You playfully threatened.

“Or what? I'm already soaked. Now I just want payback.” He said before lunging for you again. You let out a noise between a laugh and a shriek and ran around the couch again. Matt followed you, catching up to you easily and wrapping his arms around your waist.

“Gotcha!” He said. There was a brief struggle for the water gun before Matt finally got it away from you. He then proceeded to turn it on you and start spraying you with it. 

“Matt! No! I give! I give!” You surrendered but Matt wasn't having it.

“Oh, what's that? I can't hear you over the sound of me winning.” He said smugly, spraying you again to prove his point. You just laughed and soon Matt was joining you, his deep laugh echoing inside the apartment. When the two of you finally calmed down, Matt tossed the water gun onto the couch and then nuzzled your neck.

“What brought this on?” He asked.

“Foggy gave it to me and his only instructions were to give you hell. What did you do?” Matt laughed and shook his head.

“I may have pranked him at the office. I was wondering how he was going to get me back. I didn't know he'd enlist my significant other.” He kissed your cheek then pulled away from you, heading towards the bathroom. 

“Where are you going?”

“Well, I might as well take a shower. Care to join me?”

“Yes, please.”

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✨🐟PROMPTS FILLED: WATER GUN FIGHT🐟✨

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Day 5 - Water Gun Fight

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x Reader Word Count: 646 Content: : Fluff, no use of y/n, Reader is the second year teacher at Jujutsu High, I kept using the word splash so many times so I apologize in advance, this takes place about a week after the Exchange event so sometime in September 2018 Tuna-Tober 2024 Masterlist <- check out the other fics posted this month!

A/N: And here's day 5's entry. . . 30 minutes before the day ends haha. Enjoy!!

“KUGISAKI DON’T-!”

“WE HAVE THE HIGH GROUND ITA-ITIOT!”

“no, don’t, stop, come back-”

“You’re not helping Fushiguro!”

Watching Nobara sprinting out from their hiding spot, followed closely by Yuji and Megumi, you smile to yourself, “Glad to see they’re having fun.” 

“I know; I have the best ideas, don’t I?” Gojo grins, spinning a water gun around his finger. Your smile quickly vanishes and you give him a look. “What?!” He responds.

“Uh-huh. . .” Your attention goes to the three second years, who are perfectly setting a trap to get the first years.

Gojo somehow convinced Yaga to allow them to do a water gun fight before the weather got too cold. He claimed it would help with their teamwork skills but you knew how Gojo felt about teamwork and jujutsu; it was pointless bullshit. Regardless, the kids needed a break, and what’s more fun than a water gun fight.

It was decided that this fight would be treated like a paintball fight. The first years have water that’s colored red while the second years’ water is colored blue. You set a charm on their water guns that would keep them refilled so they won’t worry about running out of water during their battle. It also saved Ichiji from having to recolor a new batch of water every time. 

You notice Toge moving his uniform away from his face, “Don’t move!” There he goes.

“SHIT!”

“Fushiguro?!”

“I got him!” Panda yells, pointing his water gun towards Fushiguro who’s stood frozen in place.

His face is contorted in anger, his movements are short and stiff. The more he tries to move the faster he’ll be able to have a full range of motion again. . . Right?

But doing that risks Yuji and Norbara getting hit too-

SPLASH!

“Panda you’re out!” Gojo calls out.

Panda groans, “It’s gonna take forever for this dye to get out of my fur!!” 

Yuji stands proudly, grinning at Megumi, “I’ve got your back Fushiguro!”

SPLUSH! SPLASH!

“Yuji! Megumi! You’re out.” You yell, leaning up against a tree. 

“Why is it sticky?” Megumi asks.

“I mixed in something a little special~” Maki teases.

“Salmon roe!” Toge adds, and Megumi makes a face.

“What is it?” Yuji asks and Megumi shakes his head, “You don’t want to know.” He mutters.

“Now where’s Kugisaki-?” Maki starts but then- SPLASH!

“Toge you’re out-“

“AH- HA!” SPLASH!!

“HA?!” Maki exclaims. You and Gojo look between each other, unable to tell who hit who first. Both are covered in purple dye and they both look like they’re gonna kill each other.

You try your best not to laugh at the two of them but a snicker does escape from your lips. Gojo is too busy laughing his ass off to give them a clear winner, which only makes them more pissed off.

“If there’s no clear winner then. . .” Megumi starts, “then you guys have to fight for us!” Yuji finishes.

“Huh?”

“I’m not doing that-“

“It would be too easy of a fight-“

“WHAT?! Maki hand me your water gun!”

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you hon~” 

The blue water just floats around him as he just smiles at you. Stupid infinity.

“Water is harmless!”

“Why would I want to get wet? So you know how expensive my clothing is? Are you gonna buy me new-?”

He stills as you appear suddenly in front of him, you lightly touch his arm; he always puts his infinity down around you. . . You’re not sure why he does, but it helps you out now though.

SPLASH!

“DAMN IT!!” You cry out, drenched in red liquid.

“You didn’t think I wouldn’t take Nobara’s water gun? She threw it at me earlier when she was mad. Maaaaaan, you really don’t pay close enough attention sweetheart-“

You punch him with a black flash, throwing him halfway across the school’s campus. Damn him.

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✨🐟PROMPTS FILLED: "You can sleep here tonight." 🐟✨

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You Can Sleep Here Tonight🪻

my baby.... i love van helsing SO MUCH!!!! this movie is honestly top 10 for me

Ship: Gabriel Van Helsing x f!Reader

Rating: 13+

Wordcount: 1.2k

Warnings: violence, use of acid, monsters, stabbing, blood, bit of flirting

Series: Leg's Tuna Tober

Black quills soared over Gabriel's head as he barely dodged the onslaught. Barb after barb whistling through the air just past his left shoulder. A rough grunt coughed up his throat as he stood from the cobblestones.

He was met by the long arc of claws slashing at his chest. Arms with three, long talons hooked at the ends whirled at Gabriel. The hunter backed away on light feet. Snarls from his foe echoed around the brick alley Van Helsing had found himself in.

Lean muscles along his thigh stretched when he planted a strong kick to the chupacabra's abdomen. Its reptilian skin offered little to no rebound, its hide as thick as tanned leather. Large, black, soulless eyes reflected Gabriel's harrowed expression back at him. Three elongated teeth dripped slobber onto his boot.

A slash at Gabriel's foot made him pull away. He made a mental note to thoroughly scrub his boots later. The brick wall dug into the material of his coat as he backed up from the chupacabra. His mind raced with thousands of ways to advance this fight, to come out victorious.

The chupacabra crouching in preparation to charge dashed any swirling thoughts from Gabriel's mind. He watched, anticipation burning under his skin, as the creature readied itself to launch. One moment, two, then it leaped.

Gabriel rolled out of the path of the monster. Stones scraped along the leathers he'd adorned himself with. His head snapped up, long hair falling away from his face in strands of chestnut, as he watched the chupacabra. The creature collided with the bricks in a loud thud. Barely audible crunches crackling along the strong bones running through its body.

It fell to the ground in a heap of leathery skin and black quills. Van Helsing scrambled to his feet, gloved hands digging into his coat pockets. He backed a healthy distance away.

Finally. His fist produced a glass vial from one of his lapel pockets. Palm sized, glass clouded, filled with a viscous grey liquid. The cork plugged into the neck was primed to pop off with the slightest touch.

"Look out!" Gabriel heard you shout from the mouth of the alley. He looked up just in time to see the chupacabra reorient itself towards him, fangs dripping onto the stones. Its claws dug deep gouges into the ground as it galloped towards the hunter on all fours.

Van Helsing reared back, vial grasped in his large hand, before he flung it at the monster. The glass sailed through the air in a short arc, moonlight glinting off the projectile.

Glass shattered against the chupacabra's broad chest. The impact was immediately met with a sickening sizzle as the liquid burned into the creature's hide. Smoke poured from the rapidly growing hole in its thick skin. Yellow, stringy flesh emerged from beneath the leathery hide.

The monster howled as it collapsed to the ground. Ear-piercing shrieks and loud bellows shot from its toothy maw. Its clawed appendages thrashed around in agony.

"The stake! Now!" Gabriel exclaimed in your direction. Silver flashed as you scooped the stake off the ground, the metal rod clutched in your shaking hands.

He snatched it out of the air after you lobbed it in Gabriel's general direction. The hunter approached the monster, looming over the flailing beast like a jagged mountain over a desolate valley.

Flesh squelched when the stake was jabbed into the chupacabra's chest. One last shriek erupted from the creature's mouth, the silver finding its mark in the monster's heart, before it went deathly still. Its hide continued to hiss in the quiet, night air.

For the first time since the fight had started, Gabriel allowed himself to breathe. Acrid smoke rising from the chupacabra's body burrowed into his sinuses. He winced, standing from the creature's body and pulling his mask down before the smell got a foothold in the fabric.

"Th-Thank you," you stammered from across the alley. The hem of your dress was in tatters, thanks to the now dead creature at Van Helsing's feet, and a slash through the bodice left bits of your chest exposed. Trembling arms clutched at the torn fabric to keep it in place.

"Are you alright?" Gabriel asked, stepping around the carcass in your direction. His drying boots clipped along the cobblestones. He stopped short of where the alley ended and you stood, just beyond the entrance. Passing coaches and glowing streetlamps painted the world behind you in picturesque strokes.

"I'm fine, thanks to you. What was that thing?" you questioned. The tremor had abandoned your voice, leaving a strong timbre in its place. You peered over Gabriel's shoulder at the still-smoking body.

The hunter smirked, stepping back on his heel, "A chupacabra. Unfortunately common in these parts," he began. He pivoted to face the creature in question. He felt your stare as he walked back to his quarry, "Got reports of drained livestock and missing children in this area. So, the Church sent me to handle it. This was the last one in the nest I found a few days ago. Managed to slip away before I could kill it."

You watched with wide eyes as Van Helsing yanked the stake from the chupacabra's disintegrating body, "You do this often?"

"More often than I'd like," he replied easily. Liquid flesh sloughed off the silver when he shook the stake. Splashes of off-yellow covered the stones in a disgusting splotch of sizzling meat. The hunter remained unphased by the abhorrent display.

"What was in that vial you threw?" you asked, continuing your interrogation. Gabriel sighed as he stood, turning back around to face you.

"A mixture of boiled chupacabra quills and holy water. Only that combination is enough to burn away its thick hide. Then, one quick stab with some silver, and it's dead. Satisfied?" he explained with annoyance dripping from his tone.

You blew a sigh at a strand of hair covering your face, "I suppose I am, Mr.Monster-Hunter. You got a name?"

"Van Helsing," Gabriel answered. He tucked the stake back amongst the copious pockets lining the inside of his coat. The silver slid into place along three other stakes of similar size.

"Well, Van Helsing. Do you have somewhere to stay tonight?"

His hazel eyes widened as they met yours, "What?"

"Seeings as you just saved my life, I figure that I at least owe you a meal and a comfortable bed," you explained, shrugging.

"That's really not necessary," Gabriel said with a grunt, trying to brush past you. A push of your hand on his chest kept him in place.

"I owe you my life. Please, let me at least try to return the favor?" you pleaded. He couldn't help but feel entranced at your kind expression. Wide eyes glistening in the moonlight, plump lips beckoning him closer, soft hand pressed against the skin above his heart.

The hunter let a genuine smile tug at his lips. What harm could come from a meal? He hadn't eaten anything hot in several days. Just foraged roots and berries he'd managed to find as he tracked the chupacabras. He deserved a break, a reward for his service to the Church.

"Alright," he relented, voice barely louder than a murmur. A grin wisped across your face like a summer breeze.

"Perfect! Follow me, Mr.Van Helsing."

i want to kiss his silly face and tell him i love him

taglist: @just-a-nightdreamer @venomqueen2002 @c1eepypas1a @www-interludeshadow-com

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✨🐟PROMPTS FILLED: ""Are you blushing?" + 69🐟✨

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"Sharing is Caring" (Matt Murdock x F!Reader, Fic, 🔥)

Time for the next prompt for my Tuna-Tober prompt challenge! This is for day 4 (Matt very much did not like this only being a drabble so now it's 5600 words, fuck me), I chose to combine the kink and fluff prompts (69 and 'Are you blushing?'). You can see the rest of the prompts I've chosen here if you'd like to know what's coming this month from me. Also, if you'd like notifications when I post a new story, drabble, or chapter, you can follow my sideblog @pastaxandria and set it for notifications! And off we go!

Ship: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Wordcount: 5.6k, Matt fought me and won

Warnings for this chapter, let's do this: smutty smut smut, 69 position so oral for both plus face riding, overstimulation, lil bit of prostate stim, multiple orgasms, panty tearing, matt is a MENACE

LOOK AT THIS SMUG MOTHERFUCKER, I HAD A NEAT AND ORDERLY TIMELINE AND A DRABBLE OUTLINE, INSTEAD HE THREW THAT OUT THE WINDOW AND HE HAS FILLED THIS FIC WITH SIN, THE AUDACITY, WHAT TIME IS IT, MATT THIS IS YOUR FAULT

Matt was a giving lover. That much you knew. 

No round of sex with Matt ended without at least one orgasm for you, and often more if he had his way, which he often did, the audacity of that man. It wasn’t unusual for him to spend hours with his head buried between your thighs, skilled tongue lapping hungrily at your sex in a way that made you see stars, and had also led to you tearing a hole in the sheets on more than one occasion. He’d bent you over every last surface in the apartment, and some of the surfaces outside it too. Somehow he always managed to sink himself so deeply inside you that you’d have sworn you felt him in your throat, and that feeling was always followed by him fucking into you with a practiced athleticism that never failed to leave you a melted, howling mess. 

In other words, if sex with you was an artform, your climax was the masterpiece Matt lovingly devoted himself to creating. You’d never been with someone who took such joy in giving you pleasure. But sometimes he was… too giving.

Like now, when what you wanted was to get that thick cock of his into your mouth. 

“Oh, but sweetheart, I’m so hungry,” he purred, a warm, distracting light in his eyes. He was all heat and hungry fire where he stood in the bedroom doorway, a slow, lazy lick of his lips that admittedly had your cunt clenching around nothing. That look meant he had no intention of letting you out of bed for at least the next three hours. The growing outline of his hardening cock against his slacks only confirmed your suspicion as his voice dropped into something low and tempting. “I’ve been thinking about tasting you all day. It’s the only reason I got through work. Let me get my mouth on you, just for a little while. I’ll make it good for you, you know I will. Don’t you want that?”

It was a good offer. A very good offer, and one he was more than capable of fulfilling. You both knew it. But damn it, you also knew what you wanted. 

“No,” you said stubbornly, crossing your arms. “I don’t want that.” “Lie,” he murmured. His head cocked, his sightless gaze dropping to your chest, and then lower until they landed somewhere around your hips. His lips slowly curled up into a smirk. “Mm, big lie.” “...Alright, so maybe I always want that,” you admitted reluctantly, biting your lip as you stared down at the outline of your prize, heavy and thick even through the cloth. It was enough to make your mouth water. “But right now I want to suck you off more.” 

And god, did you ever. It was rare for him to let you go down on him, but those memories had become regulars in your fantasies. There was just something about his soft moans and hitched whines when you took him in your mouth, the way he threw his head back and his mouth hung slack, his spine arching when you let the tip of your tongue gently brush that spot below the head of his cock until he fucking begged for you to swallow him down. And if you kept going after he’d already come, kept sucking at his softening cock and pressed your knuckle just right behind his balls, drove his trembling, writhing body carefully into overstimulation, you could even drag something like a second orgasm out of him in short succession. He’d been a melted, purring, barely coherent puddle for a good hour when you'd last managed it and you had every intention of seeing if you couldn’t do it again. 

His brows shot up, as if he were genuinely surprised at just how truthful you’d been, or maybe surprised at just aroused the thought of your mouth on him made you. But those same brows quickly furrowed in open confusion. “You…” His head shifted back and forth, checking again that you were telling the truth. “You want that? Over me going down on you?” “Why is it so hard to believe I want you like you want me?” You snorted, wandering over to him until you could lean in and kiss him playfully. He still seemed puzzled, but he made a little huff of amusement when you did it again, dragging your nails down the front of his shirt. His chest rumbled beneath your touch, a quiet groan of pleasure. “Come on. Share, Matt. Let me have a taste this time.” 

He tipped his head down slowly towards you, clearly tempted. You leaned into him, another rumble leaving him when your lips brushed tantalizingly against the corner of his mouth. You almost had him now. The blatant note of your arousal in the air would only help your case now that you were up close. There was a flush on his cheeks now, and his nostrils flared, taking your scent in when you not-so-subtly rubbed your thighs together. You slowly hooked one finger in his belt, giving it a tug. “Please?” Your desire left you almost breathless, the word hushed and pleading. You weren’t above begging if you needed to. “I need you in my mouth, Matt. You can have me after, can’t you?” “Or…” He drew his lower lip between his teeth for a moment, sucking lightly before letting it go,  his mouth parted and wet. “Or we can both get what we want, with a few adjustments.” Oh. 

Your breath caught, and you went still, something thick and rich as molten honey rolling through your veins. “Why, sweetheart,” he murmured, dipping his head until he could feather his lips over your ear. One of his fingers brushed over your sternum, so light you almost didn’t feel it, before it traced its way gradually up your throat to your cheek, stirring all the tiny hairs in its wake. “Are you blushing?” “No,” you whispered, caught up in visions of what that might look like, feel like, to have his tongue licking its way hungrily into your cunt, all while you took his cock in your mouth and tried your best to make him lose his mind. Would he grow sloppy then, clumsy when you toyed with the head of him? Or would he tap into that focus of his, the two of you in a blatant competition to see who broke first? You wouldn’t deny just how wet the idea made you, but that would also be a lot of sensation for him, especially when you both knew he could come from the taste of your cunt alone. “Or… yes, I… Would that be… too much? Your senses—”

“I’ll be fine. I may have…” He let out a low chuckle, his own cheeks now the lightest bit pink as he cleared his throat. “I may have gone into the office bathroom before I left work, and… taken care of myself. I’d been thinking about my head between your thighs all day. I had to make sure I could get home.”

The visual slammed into you with the force of a truck: Matt with one scarred hand pressed tight over his mouth to stifle his moans while he frantically stroked at his cock. And it was all because he’d spent hours thinking about how he was going to go home, throw you into bed, and find his way right down to your cunt. Your low moan was quickly swallowed up as he caught your chin and tipped your head up so his lips could find yours. The kiss was all teeth and burning heat, fire and fierce need, his stubble rasping against your skin until you felt like you were on fire. One of his hands swept down and behind you, fingers spread wide as he groped roughly, greedily against your ass. He used that same grip to haul you forward into him, making you whine when his hips ground into yours, letting you feel exactly what you’d done to him. “Fuck,” he breathed. “I can smell you, how wet you are. Tell me you want that, sweetheart. Tell me—” “God yes, please, please, Matt.”

You didn’t bother to keep track of where your clothes fell as you both stumbled your way into the bedroom, neither of you willing to pull your hands and mouths off each other long enough to figure that out. You managed to get everything off but your panties by the time you neared the bed, and you fully intended to slide those off, too, but you were distracted by the pleasure of Matt’s mouth as he determinedly nipped and licked at the skin of your throat, blatantly drinking the pheromones from your skin. Fortunately, Matt was a bit less distracted.

The tearing of fabric rang out, and then Matt’s fingers slipped between your soaked folds, stroking three fingers eagerly along your slit until you gasped out his name. 

“Oops,” he said with a smirk.

“You’re paying for those,” you grumbled. “Happily.” He side stepped around you, and by the time you’d turned he was already on the bed,  rolling onto his back and tipping his head back in clear expectation. Then he brought his wet, gleaming fingers up to his mouth, inhaling intently as he rubbed his fingers together. The reaction was immediate: a fierce groan, his other hand shooting down to wrap tightly around his cock as his hips bucked. 

“Shit,” you whispered, absolutely mesmerized as he took another greedy breath, a creeping flush spreading across his pale skin. He may have come an hour or so ago, but his cock already looked achingly hard, the whole of it flushed dark and red, a decadent droplet of precum beading at the tip. He was an absolute vision, all of that strength and power, the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen laid out like a meal for you, this affected just by the thought, the scent of your arousal. It lit a fire in you, and Matt must have sensed it, because he let out a growl before giving in and shoving his fingers into his mouth. His eyes snapped shut, a loud moan tearing through him. His other hand started to stroke quickly at his cock, firm drives up with a smooth sweep of his palm over the head before sliding back down, all as he sucked the taste of you eagerly from his fingers, unwilling to lose even a single drop. It was one of the hottest things you’d ever seen. “Holy shit, you’re trying to kill me.” “Get up here and ride my face, sweetheart,” he grit out, shifting to let his thumb rub against the wet head of his cock. A delicious shiver ran through him, and he rolled his head on the pillow to face you. There was something far darker in his eyes, then, whispers of the Devil, of merciless rain on hard city streets. “Do it before I drag you up here myself, because I’m not going to fucking care if you can reach my cock when I do.”

It was the only invitation you needed, and you scrambled up onto the bed before he could change his mind. You had no intention of missing the opportunity he’d given you. 

You hit another brief snag, however, once you’d crawled over to him. You’d ridden his face before, but that had always been with you facing the headboard or the arm of the couch. This required the opposite angle. After a moment’s consideration, one that ended quickly when Matt growled a warning, you muttered a quiet, “fuck it,” and did a half turn, throwing your leg quickly over him so you had a knee on either side of his shoulders. Then you walked back a step or two on your knees, Matt’s free hand taking the meat of your thigh in his grip. It was difficult to figure out just where you needed to be to get the angle right. All you could see from this angle was his body stretched out like a long, open road before you, his other hand still stroking roughly at his cock, his knees bent, feet braced so he could rut lazily up into his grip. You didn’t really know where to put your hands, so you settled for placing them against the broad line of his chest, using them to brace yourself as you tentatively adjusted.

Matt, however, had lost his patience. 

With a snarl, he let go of his cock. Both his hands caught your hips, and with one hard yank he wrenched you down, burying his mouth against your pussy as if he hadn’t eaten in days. 

You both let out a sharp moan, Matt’s far more muffled than yours. There was no gentleness now, no parting you with his fingers to tease you with the tip of his tongue before settling in. Instead, it was something ravenous and filthy, animalistic, Matt’s mouth open wide as he licked and sucked at your folds and slit, greedily drinking up every last drop of your arousal he could find. For a moment you forgot what your plan had been. Your head fell to rest against his abdomen, your lips parted on a whine as Matt devoured your slick with heavy grunts and rumbles of approval, your hips starting to rock against his mouth. He was eating at you with everything in him, no thought given to things like air, based on his hitched breathing and muffled groans. He’d told you once, lips curled into a smirk, his chin still wet with your arousal, that if he died between your thighs, well, he’d consider that death a victorious one. 

“Mm—Matt, oh god, please,” you whimpered, your fingers curling against his skin, red lines left in your wake.

 Apparently satisfied that he’d taken in everything he could get, Matt tipped his head down just a hair, using his grip on your hips to adjust you until his tongue found your clit. With a purr, he began to lap warmly, steadily at it, over and over and over again, every now and then pursing his lips to kiss at it with a fond affection that was almost tender. The attention to your clit made your eyes flutter shut, quiet whimpers escaping you with each pass of his tongue, your body clenching in want. At the fresh trickle of wetness, Matt groaned in delight. “Taste so good, sweetheart, all mine,” he slurred warmly, syllables thick and sounding almost drugged, before his tongue found you again, falling right back into his aphrodisiac of choice. As he did, his body began to shift beneath you, before settling into a steady rocking. Startled, your eyes fluttered open, and you glanced down his body. What you saw made your mouth fall slack.

Matt had begun to roll his hips, rutting up in lazy waves. At first you thought it might be an invitation, a reminder, but as you watched you quickly realized what he was doing. With every flex and buck of his hips, he managed to rub his cock against his abdomen, just a little. You could already see the smears of precum pooling in the lines and grooves of flexing muscle, and that only made each successful contact smoother, Matt’s moans against your cunt growing stuttered and hoarse. It likely wouldn’t have been enough sensation for anyone else, but for Matt and his senses, it was just enough to drive him further upwards, his thick thighs starting to tremble. Hell, he was probably enjoying it, considering how he liked to tease himself. 

Fortunately, it was also a reminder of what you’d wanted to do. 

You quickly stretched out above him, headed for your goal. Your hips shifted just a little as you did, and Matt let out a low, possessive growl, his hands tightening on your hips in a warning. He didn’t like the idea that you might pull away before he was done, you had a feeling.

“Relax.” You choked out a shaky laugh, lowering your head to kiss fondly at the crest of his hip. Your affection softened his growl to a gentler, contented groan. “Just-just trying to get to you.” He seemed soothed by that, at least. Then again, maybe he just wasn’t listening, far too focused on your cunt to really hear you. Either way it didn’t matter, because you’d finally maneuvered yourself to where you’d wanted to be. You braced one hand shakily on his thigh, some of your weight settling down on top of him. His chest rose and fell on a happy sigh beneath you, more than happy to have you sprawled out over him. It also meant his cock was now in range of your mouth. 

It was even more tantalizing up close, flushed, wet, and practically begging for your attention even if Matt’s mouth was otherwise occupied. You eagerly caught the base of it, wrapping your fingers tight around it. Beneath you he let out a grunt, his tongue faltering against your clit. You had no interest in waiting any longer, so without a second’s hesitation you dipped your head and stuck out your tongue, catching one of the drops of precum rolling down the shaft. From there you rose with one long drag along his length, following that damp trail back up to his tip like you might a melting drop of ice cream. The moment your tongue swept over the head of Matt’s cock, he let out a startled moan, one that morphed into a hoarse cry when you lapped warmly at his slit, chasing the taste of him, taking in every fresh drop that welled up beneath your attention. It had been far too long since you’d gotten to taste him like this, bitter and salty in equal measure, the scent of musk and sex so much stronger here.

“God,” he choked out, squirming beneath you, his hands practically clawing at your hips. His head dropped back and away from your cunt as he gasped up to the ceiling, breath hitching on a high moan as the strokes of your tongue grew more firm. “Ah-ah! Your mouth, sweetheart, I need it, just—”

Time to see if you could break him before he broke you.

You dropped your mouth open wide before starting to slide him into your mouth, using your hand at his base to angle him and make it a little easier. But easier was… relative. 

Shit, you thought with a low moan, one that had Matt crying out behind you. He was so fucking thick, broad enough that you felt a faint ache in your jaw, saliva already leaking out past the corners of your mouth to drip down his length. There was no graceful way to swallow him down, but the sensation of your saliva rolling down his shaft, your stifled huffs through your nose as you slowly worked your way down his cock had him absolutely wrecked. His body trembled beneath you, his hips jerking in an only barely aborted attempt to thrust up into the warm, wet cavern of your mouth. He actually whined when you gave him your first little suck, and those whines only grew in number as you did it again, his panting music to your ears, so wet you were practically dripping down onto him. And maybe you really had, because before you could blink, he’d yanked your hips back down. This time, however, he brought his hands around so he could use his thumbs to part your body for him. With a wild moan, he’d buried his mouth against your slit, licking hotly at your opening over and over until he’d managed to worm his tongue inside you.

Your eyes rolled back at the feel of his tongue lapping eagerly at your inner walls, his chin grinding roughly against your clit. He’d burrowed in so hard against you it was if were intent on drowning, on latching onto you and never letting go. The angle was perfect, and you found yourself grinding down instinctively against his face, riding his tongue inside you and the stubbled texture of his chin, chasing your pleasure just as you were seeking his. His delighted moan as you started to use him the way he wanted was so muffled you swore he shouldn’t have been able to breathe, but still you couldn’t bring yourself to stop, whining around the length of him in your mouth as he slurped deeper, your thighs locking up around his head, his skin slick with you. He was dangerously close to coming based on the way his cock had started to throb against your tongue, and you weren’t much further behind, but he was clearly aiming to get you there first.

No.

No, you wanted to ruin him too.  Focus, just a little more. You clumsily lifted your head halfway up before skating back down to meet your hand around his base. Neither of you were coordinated enough to make this last much longer, too distracted by the rising waves of pleasure, but that didn’t matter. You knew his body. You could outlast him, by a few seconds at least. But to do that, you’d need one more thing. So, determined to win, you quickly worked your free hand down past his cock, pausing to knead briefly at his sac just for the way it made him moan roughly against your cunt before you drifted past it. You didn’t slide your fingers inside him—something you both hadn’t tried quite yet—but you did curl one finger and press your knuckle up gently just behind his balls, indirect pressure against that spot deep inside him. 

His back arched so sharply and suddenly beneath you he almost managed to throw you off, and his choked gasp hit air as he threw his head back. With a shaky whine, he ground down desperately against your finger before snapping his hips up, clearly torn between the wet suction of your mouth around his cock and the firm pressure against his prostate. But unlike last time he’d thrown his head back, this time you followed his mouth with your hips. You were too close to that edge now to go without it, especially not with the noises he was making—whimpers and broken moans, slurred pleas—so you tried desperately to find his lips again, grinding down against his face. And though you were reluctant to let him go, you still managed to tear your mouth off his cock just long enough to gasp out, “Fuck, Matt, please!” 

Your begging managed to drag him up out of his haze just enough that he began to sloppily hunt for your clit, licking at your cunt until he finally found it, closing his lips around it just as you did the same to the head of his cock. Two warm pulls of your mouth to match his, and then with one more shove of your finger against that spot inside him, he cried out and came hard into your mouth in salty, bitter waves that tasted like fucking satisfaction. His hoarse moans, desperate and so very needy pushed you the rest of the way. Matt’s tongue lapped warmly against your clit, and just like that you joined him in falling over the edge, your body tightening and releasing in a rolling tide of pleasure that left you floating. He quickly shoved his mouth against your slit, grunting as he greedily drank down everything your body gave him. 

You thought you were done, then, your chest heaving, your thighs shaking as the waves began to ease into aftershocks. But then Matt nuzzled roughly at your clit, his tongue brushing over it almost curiously. Then he moaned, dragging your hips back down. “Don’t stop,” he rasped hoarsely, yanking your hips back down. Just like that, his mouth was on your clit again, which was great except that you still hadn’t quite finished the last orgasm. The sudden rush of overstimulation before you could fully come down left you shaking, clawing wildly at him, but your squirming got you nowhere, your hips firmly held in an iron grip.

Don’t stop. 

There wasn’t much you could do but follow the instruction. 

You moaned and began to suck clumsily at him, the softness of his cock cradled gently on your tongue. The noise he let out was strangled and hoarse, almost pained, because this had to be too much for him, it had to be, and yet… he couldn’t resist starting to rock up instinctively against your mouth, a broken whimper breathed against your cunt when you managed to probe your tongue against the tip of him. You knew, distantly, remembered that you’d had this plan: if you did this fast enough, did this just right, using his senses to your benefit, you could make him come again. And, well, it had helped before, so you shifted and rolled your finger, grinding hard against that spot inside him in steady waves, sucking harder at his cock just for the way it made him writhe. His head fell back once again, his hands dropping away from you to fist in the sheets, but you didn’t care, your goal in sight. One of these days you were going to get your fingers inside him to see what noises he made then, and just to taunt him, you hooked and curled your fingers against his soft skin, your message clear. 

You weren’t sure who was more startled when he came—you, or him—but  either way, he did, his cock only half-hard at best as he snapped his hips up, his body locking up as he spilled into your mouth. He made a sound you’d never heard from him before, one part shout and one part a high, hitching moan, the sounds ebbing and flowing with each jagged wave of pleasure you dragged him through, almost enough to hide the sound of tearing fabric. There wasn’t much left for his body to give, granted, but you still accepted those few drops anyway, swallowing them down with a satisfied moan as you milked him dry, massaging your fingers against him to drag it out. You didn’t stop until his sounds began to sound pained, and even then it was a struggle. You had to force yourself to lift your head, sitting back against his chest. But even that much pressure against your clit made you whimper, your body shaking, because despite the overstimulation, as predicted he’d managed to shove you up far enough again that you were hanging right on the edge again, orgasm just a breath away.

“Matt,” you choked out, not even sure what it was you needed—his hand maybe, or even just for him to hold still so you could ride some part of him. One glance over your shoulder, however, let you unsure of what he might be able to give. 

Matt’s head was still thrown back on the pillow, his mouth hanging open as he panted, hair damp and sticking up in every direction. His eyes were glazed over and dark, absent any real awareness or thought. You knew that look, one he got when you’d really managed to fuck him senseless or leave him wrecked. He was out of it, his senses momentarily overloaded, out of order, come back later. You quickly pulled yourself off of him, just in case your weight over him had been unpleasant. He’d need some time, but fortunately, sitting here and staring at what you’d done—Matt Murdock, fucked out and drunk off your body—would be just the sort of visual you needed as you took care of yourself. You dropped one hand, sliding it between your legs until you could circle your clit with your fingertips, your lips parting on a satisfied moan. It wasn’t as good as Matt, but it was good enough.

Or… that’s what you thought you’d do, until Matt’s head snapped in your direction. His hand darted up, grabbing for you.

Except that he missed, his hand snatching at the empty air about two inches to your left.

“Matt,” you huffed shakily, using your other hand to take his. He probably just wanted to stay close, he usually did when you got him like this. “I’m-I’m fine, just, unh, gonna fini—Matt!” 

Your hand brushing against his had apparently been the compass he needed, because you abruptly found yourself shoved back onto the bed on your back with a grunt. He was on his hands and knees before you could blink, scrambling and groping around the bed to feel out how you’d fallen, his eyes burning. The moment he made contact with you again, he shoved his head forward with a growl, mouthing at you, licking, biting at whatever skin he could find, which happened to be your ribs, the nip of his teeth sharp enough to make you cry out. You knew that you knew you’d have a mark there tomorrow, one to join the bruises on your hip. But it clearly wasn’t the part of you he’d been aiming for, and he snarled in clear frustration, swinging his head back and forth in a failed attempt to orient before he managed to find your hips with his hands. Your own hands wound up tangled in his hair as he dragged himself roughly over your legs, and fuck, if he was offering, you were happy to take it. You lifted up your hips, tugging at his hair to direct him. “Here!” you gasped, pushing his head down between your thighs. “Here, Matt, right—”

He buried his face sloppily against your cunt again, not a hint of shame or hesitation in him. And his furious, rough lapping at your clit was exactly what you needed. The sound you made was raw and torn, almost a shriek as you suddenly got the stimulation you’d been looking for, your body tightening in rapid waves beneath his mouth. He caught your clit between his lips, growled, and sucked hard enough to have you seeing stars. That was it for you, your back arching as you fisted your hands tightly in his hair and came across his tongue, a flood of wetness drenching his face. With every pulsing wave of pleasure, he let out a satisfied little rumble, sucking in time with the rhythm of your body, dragging your orgasm out until the world burned white. The moment those waves began to ebb, he switched to broad flat licks along the entire length of your cunt, mindlessly drinking up every last drop, his eyes falling half closed in apparent bliss. 

Which was nice. Until your body started to request a break. 

“Matt,” you choked out, trying to shift away. He instinctively followed, blearily keeping his mouth latched onto your cunt, the pressure on your clit almost painful now. “Matt, that’s—fuck—I need a break, sweetheart, please! Matt!”

The sharp call of his name seemed to snap him out of it, and he finally let you go with a groan. He didn’t get very far, though, immediately tipping his head sideways until it landed on your thigh with a soft thump.  

You let yourself breathe for a minute, twitching now and then when an aftershock rolled through you. When you were feeling a little more able to breathe, you finally lifted your head to glance at him. “That,” you wheezed, “was… we need to do that again. But in… in a while.”

He blinked slowly at you, blissed out and lazy as a lion who’d just had a meal. He hadn’t moved from your thigh, his face still absolutely drenched. Then he grinned, and the expression was so absolutely, drunkenly smug that you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. “I take it you’re ok, then?” You snorted, reaching down to stroke your fingers down his wet cheek. 

He blinked at you again, and there was a brief delay before his head turned and he nudged affectionately at your hand. Sometimes when his senses got too overloaded after sex, he needed a few minutes without touch to come down. This time, however, it seemed like touch was what he needed. 

“You wanna come up here and listen to my heartbeat until your senses are all back online?”

He seemed to think that over for a minute before he slowly started to drag himself up your body. He didn’t even bother to lift his head from you, simply dragging it along your skin as if he were loathe to lose the sensation of you against him. He only ran into a slight hiccup when he bumped into your breasts. He nosed around for a second, huffing briefly, before he found the space between them and continued on. “You’re drunk as hell,” you choked out a laugh, as he rubbed his ear fondly back and forth over your sternum, hunting for whatever spot sounded best. “You’re pussy drunk. God, I love you.” He finally selected his spot on your chest, his head dropping. The rest of his body followed, as he settled down on top of you with a groan of satisfaction. Then he rumbled out a contented sigh as you got your fingers in his hair, stroking through the sweat-soaked strands. One of his hands fumbled its way down to your hip, where he began to knead clumsily at it, your affections very much returned. “Mhm. Love you, too.” 

“Little more coherent?” “Mm. You taste good.” “So do you. Don’t make me wait so long to get my mouth on you again.”

“Mhm,” he sighed. He absently licked his lips, before purring quietly, his eyes falling shut. “I promise. We’ll share.”

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✨🐟CALCULATING... CALCULATING... 🐟✨

✨🐟PROMPTS FILLED: BEGGING🐟✨

✨🐟Find the rest of the Tuna-Tober prompts here, and remember to follow to see what other prompt fics these writers might drop this October!🐟 ✨

Chapter 3

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Electra ft Karen Page.

Tuna-Tober Prompt: Begging

Summary: Karen encourages Elektra to relieve Matt. All porn: riding, dirty talk, teasing.

Word Count: 1502

A/n: What ya’ll want is coming but Karen is a little shy. We have to get her comfortable.

Series Home

“You naughty, naughty girl.” Elektra whispered as she crawled her way up to Karen. She briefly licked Karen’s lips before softly kissing her. She slipped Karen’s lower lip into her mouth, gently teasing her until she popped it back out of her mouth. 

”What do you want to watch me do?” 

Karen pauses to think but Elektra was stirring up her arousal, again. She lowered her voice despite knowing that Matt could still hear her. Grinning, she says: “Can you make him beg?” Her eyes filled with sinful darkness at the question. 

A look of pure enjoyment spread across her face. “As you wish.” Elektra pressed a kiss to Karen’s cheek. 

“This is going to be fun. C’mon love and follow my lead.” Elektra gets off Karen and stands near the bed, extending her hand to Karen’s. 

“Oh, I see you’re still here, Matty. I’m very proud of you for behaving yourself.” Elektra said as she sauntered back into the living room.  

“Did you have a nice time out here?” She teased.

”Thanks for holding these for me, Matthew.” Karen whispered in his ear as she picked her panties off his shoulder. The scent of fresh arousal on her made his nostrils flare. 

Matt could barely contain himself. He was intoxicated with their essence. His blood, alight with fire, buzzed through his veins and pounded in his ears. Their pheromones hung heavy in the air and his desire for them seared in his groin. 

“You’re welcome, Karen. I enjoyed the opportunity to hear you two ladies. It seems you both had a nice time.”

“You two sure know how to make a girl feel welcome.” Karen giggled as she took a seat on the couch. Elektra found herself seated on Matt’s thighs, noticing the damp spot of precum on his pajama pants. Her hands danced along his arms, appreciating the gooseflesh left in their wake. 

“We did. In fact, we would still be back there but one of us was concerned about you.” She said, shooting Karen a look. 

“Guilty.” Karen chaffed, lifting a hand. 

“Well Karen is always considerate of others' needs.” His thighs tensed as he leaned forward as much as he could, attempting to goad Elektra. 

“Hmm. That sounded pointed to me. What do you think, Karen?” 

“Yeah, it sounds like he is disappointed in you, Ellie. What are you going to do about that?” She asked, attempting to spur the situation. 

Elektra sighed heavily. She leaned forward and placed her hands against Matt’s head, thumbs resting on his temples. She began to slowly massage him, thumbs rolling against his temple and fingers grazing against his scalp. Once she felt him begin to relax beneath her he lowered her tracings down the sides of his neck, down onto his shoulders. She let her nails graze against his skin, stopping once she hit his shoulders. 

Matt was enjoying the minor bits of physical touch, still intoxicated from listening to them pleasure themselves. 

Elektra pulled herself forward, lips hovering just out of reach of Matt’s. “I’m not going to do anything.” She husked, lips barely grazing his as she spoke. “Love, do you mind coming over here and standing behind Matt?” 

Excited, Karen stood up before answering her. 

“Is here ok?” She said, stopping directly behind him. 

“Yes and now, can you just lean forward a bit.”

Karen followed Elektra’s instructions until her breasts were pressing against Matt’s back, her face next to his. 

“I fear he is going to be no fun this evening. Can we play some more?” 

Karen nodded yes and rushed forward to kiss Elektra 

Matt thought he was going to combust. At least it was the closest to Heaven the Devil would ever get, seated between two beautiful angels as they gave each other pleasure. Their heat surrounded them and he was drowning in their sounds: their delicate moans as they deeply kissed. The way their hearts raced at different speeds. Their perfumes clung to the arousal already heavy in the air and left him dizzy with want. He instinctively reached forward to grab Elektra’s hips but his handcuffs stopped him. 

Elektra pulled back from Karen’s kisses. “Oh, I’m sorry. Are we bothering you?” She mocked. 

“No, mistress.” Matt replied, sighing through his teeth.

”That’s what I thought, Matty.” She praised as she moved her hips forward, until she was grinding on his covered erection, resuming her filthy kisses with Karen. 

Karen enjoyed seeing Matt like this. Hearing his heavy breathing and feeling his muscles twitch as she and Elektra kissed had pleasure building back between her thighs. She brought her hands forward, draping them over his chest as she tongue kissed Elektra. The movement made Matt’s chest heave and she took it upon herself to explore the thick muscles beneath his shirt. 

The sensation was phenomenal and Matt’s legs began to quiver beneath Elektra. 

“Please.” He requested, barely above a whisper. 

His voice made the women stop kissing. 

“I’m sorry Matthew, what was that?” Elektra teased as she grinded herself harder in his lap as she ran a gentle hand across Karen’s cheek. 

The sight of him squirming had Karen rubbing her thighs together to relieve the desire.

”Please.” He blurted out. 

“Please what?” She teased

”Please touch me, Mistress. I need you so badly.” 

“Do you, now? Hmm,how unfortunate for you as I am very busy, Matty.” 

Elektra shot Karen a questioning look, silently asking her what she needed. Karen nodded her head in response, biting her lip in anticipation. As much as she liked seeing him struggle, she was ready to see him fall apart. 

“Oh, Matthew you are lucky Karen is here tonight. We both know you don’t deserve this but our guest is asking me to accommodate your request.” She whispered against the shell of his ear before reaching down to remove him from his pants. 

Her touch was firm and he groaned at the contact. She only gave a few passes before he cock was twitching and fresh precum spilled from his tip. 

Elektra moved in to place a few quick pecks to his lips as she ran her folds along Matt’s cock. Matt’s breathing picked up and Karen enjoyed seeing the muscles tense under his jaw in anticipation. She took the opportunity to run her fingers down the taut muscles, enjoying the way it made him quiver. 

Elektra also noticed and decided to sink down onto his cock in one motion. 

“Mistress you feel absolutely fucking amazing.” Matt moaned as she bounced on his cock. 

“I know I do, sweetheart.” 

Karen watched as she rode Matthew. Their breath was coming out in soft huffs and they rocked in a way that only two people familiar with each other could. They were hypnotizing to see. Without thinking, Karen walked behind Elektra, straddling Matt so that she could embrace Elektra from behind. 

“Is this ok?” Karen asks as she begins to fondle Elektra’s breasts. 

“Yes it is. And I know Matt likes it.” She whined as Karen pinched her nipples, Elektra’s fingertips marked up his shoulders. 

Elektra picked up the pace as Karen continued to fondle her and kiss the side of her neck. 

“I’m going to cum soon.” Matt warned for Karen’s benefit, not Elektra’s. And he noticed what the warning did to Karen’s body. 

Elektra maintained her speed but picked up the intensity in his lap. Time started to slow for Matthew. He was moaning loudly, the feeling of Elektra’s pussy pulsing around him shot electricity through his body. He dissolved into pleasure, spilling into Elektra’s body as she rode out every last drop. 

Their movements slowed, following their breaths. Elektra’s hands gripped Matt’s shirt as Karen held her from behind. 

While Elektra and Matt enjoyed their afterglow, he could still smell and sense Karen’s arousal. 

“Let us take care of you, I know you need it.” He demanded in her direction. 

“Thank you Matt but I am ok for now.” She replied, swallowing hard. After a few moments Karen moved to get up, looking around for her previously discarded panties.

“Love, are you ok? Would you like to stay for dinner? Or dessert.” Elektra tenderly asked.

”Yeah, I am good Ellie.” She replied as she put on her underwear. “And I think I would like to stay. But let me help you.” She said before taking off to the bathroom. 

Smiling, Elektra looked at Matt. “She’s going to be a lot of fun.”

”Oh yeah she is. I can’t wait to ruin her.” He chuckled as Karen came back with a washcloth and the clothing they left in the bedroom. 

“Is there anything specific you want? I can order while you two get cleaned up.” Karen said as she got herself dressed. 

“Yeah, let’s get Chinese. I have a menu in that drawer. Some of our favorite dishes are starred. Can you order us some chicken and get whatever you like?” She answered, pointing to a drawer in the kitchen as she padded off to the bathroom. 

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✨🐟CALCULATING... CALCULATING... 🐟✨

✨🐟PROMPTS FILLED: "Shh, I've got you now. I'm here." + Nightmare + Shaking🐟✨

✨🐟Find the rest of the Tuna-Tober prompts here, and remember to follow to see what other prompt fics these writers might drop this October!🐟 ✨

Day 6 - Ghosts

Prompts: 6 - “Shh, I've got you now. I'm here.” + 7 - Nightmare + 8 - Shaking Character: Frank Castle Pairing: Frank Castle x Reader Word Count: 547 Warning(s): Dream/flashback involving domestic violence, gendered insults, and implied sexual assault. Taglist: @loves0phelia, @nowheredreamer, @beezusvreeland, @yarrystyleeza Tuna-Tober 2024 Masterlist

Ghosts

You were hiding under the bed, heart pounding. He was here. You could smell him. You’d never forget that smell. Acrid smoke of menthol cigarettes, sour-sweet of stale beer, and cheap cologne. You could hear him. Stomping around the room, growling out your name. Looking for you. You prayed that he wouldn’t find you.

“I know you’re here, fucking slut . . . . lying whore . . . . You can’t hide from me!”

You fought the whimper that wanted to escape. You recognized that tone. You knew what it meant.

The footsteps stopped. You held your breath, barely daring to breathe. Had he - ? Then you screamed as a hand clamped around your ankle.

You couldn’t stop yourself from trying to kick at the hand on your ankle. Or from struggling against the hands pinning you down. You didn’t know why. It was stupid. Pointless. He was bigger than you. Stronger than you. Fighting just made the beating worse. Or got him excited. So that once you were lying broken on the floor, he’d . . . 

“Hey, hey . . . sweetheart . . . . sweetheart, it’s okay . . .”

Confusion began to penetrate through the panic. He never called you sweetheart. It was always doll. At least when he was pretending to be nice . . . and the voice didn’t sound right. Too deep, too much gravel for him. It sounded more like . . . 

“Sweetheart, it’s me, Frank . . .”

Frank. It was Frank. It was Frank’s hands wrapped around your wrists. Not trying to pin you down, just trying to stop you from hitting him. The grip firm but gentle. It was Frank looking down at you with big worried eyes . . .

Not him. He wasn’t here. He hadn’t found you. You were safe. Frank would protect you.

You collapsed against Frank in sheer relief. Almost didn’t notice him releasing your wrists in favor of wrapping his arms around you and holding you tight against his chest. Shaking, you inhaled deeply. Filling your nose with Frank’s scent. Old Spice, leather, gun oil, something smokey but not like cigarettes but something cleaner, like burning pine or apple wood chips . . .

Nothing like him.

“Shh, I've got you now. I'm here,” he murmured into your hair, rubbing your back. “You’re safe, sweetheart.”

You didn’t know how long it took for the tears to stop. You weren’t even sure when the tears had started. But, if Frank was bothered by how long it took for you to get ahold of yourself, he didn’t show it. Just keep rubbing your back and murmuring reassurances.

“Sorry,” you said.

“Why are you apologizin’?”

“Don’t know.” You said. It was just a habit, apologizing. You didn’t know why. It wasn’t like it had ever helped . . . you shuddered, firmly shoving those memories back into their box. And chained it shut.

“Wanna talk about it?”

“No,” you said. You wanted those memories to stay in their box where they belonged. You wanted to be able to go to the grocery store without having a panic attack because a stranger looked or sounded or smelled like him. You wanted dreams free of fear and pain.

Frank didn’t argue. You didn’t expect him to. He knew what it was like to have ghosts. To be haunted by things that should have never happened.

What he did do was keep hugging you until you were ready to face the world again.

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You're My Safe Place

Pairing: Frank Castle x fem!Reader Word Count: 2.3k [Tuna-Tober Masterlist]

Tuna-Tober Prompt: “Shh, I’ve got you now. I’m here.”

Warnings/tags: angst, emotional hurt/comfort, panic attack, mentions of Reader being teased for weight (and a couple other things), soft Frank

Summary: Frank and you are getting ready to attend your family's Thanksgiving dinner later, but the stress of the holiday season and the distress of seeing your horrible aunt has you nosediving right into a panic attack.

a/n: I've always wanted to write Frank comforting Reader over a panic attack so I slipped one in for this event. This is for anyone with a family member (or members) that are awful to be around now that the holidays are coming up. Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

With both hands grasping the kitchen counter in a near death grip, you leaned over the countertop as you tried to stay focused on the coffee machine in front of you. You were tired, having woken up early to a string of anxious thoughts about the Thanksgiving dinner tonight with your extended family that Frank and you would be attending. But as the coffee began to brew with a soft whir, your mind continued spiraling like it had been doing since five this morning. Ever since you’d woken up in bed next to Frank, staring at his bare shoulder poking out from beneath the bed sheets, you hadn’t been able to stop the dread and anxiety about what horrible comments your aunt would subject you to at this holiday gathering. Especially with all of the stress you’d already been under with the holiday season now in full swing.

Breath coming in sharper, your hands gripped the countertop even tighter. Farther down the hall you could hear Frank moving around in the bedroom getting ready for the day, and as much as you tried to ground yourself in the familiarity of that, you felt yourself steadily slipping as your mind replayed all of the awful things your aunt had said to you in the past–about your age and lack of a husband, the fact that you were still childless, that your profession was a joke, and even making jabs about your weight. Your vision began to blur as her irritating voice rang clear in your mind, your heart pounding so heavily that you felt the resounding vibration in your throat. Your rib cage felt as if it had clamped itself around your lungs and heart like a vice, constricting them both tighter and tighter while you fought to take a single full breath.

A panic attack. You were on the verge of another panic attack. Teetering just right at the edge, waiting to topple straight into it.

But no–no, you couldn’t. Not here. Not with Frank just in the other room. He had never seen you like this before and you never wanted him to see you like this. He had enough to worry about already and you refused to be another reason for the crease between his brows. He didn’t need to know how much something so ridiculous affected you. But at the same time, you knew tonight was the first family gathering of yours he’d be attending. Which meant it would be the first time he’d meet your aunt. The first time he’d be hearing the things she’d say about you.

Desperately you began sharply inhaling air through your gritted teeth, your eyes snapping tightly shut as you tried to get control of yourself. You just needed to focus, to breathe, to think about literally anything else besides the dinner and your aunt. But the harder you tried to fight it, the more her insults kept slipping through the quickly crumbling cracks in your mind. 

You were falling into it now, too far gone. The memories of past family gatherings were surfacing now; her repeated passive aggressive comments at the dinner table about your plate of food, the Christmas gifts that were meant ‘to help you attract a man’ or ‘lose a few of those unnecessary pounds,’ the constant comparisons to her golden child of a daughter, the rude questions about your salary. Your body was curling in on itself as you kept struggling to fight off the sensation that was dragging you under. You were gasping for breath, hyperventilating and too deep in to pull yourself back out. With shaking, sweat-dampened hands, you tried to readjust your hold on the countertop as if it was some lifeline that would keep you grounded in the present. But with your eyes closed, your hand missed the countertop and accidentally bumped into one of the coffee mugs sitting on it instead. You’d opened your eyes just in time to see the white ceramic mug fall to the floor and shatter, the noise louder than that of your own ragged, sharp breaths.

That’s when you lost it.

Dropping to the floor in a heap, tears streamed down your cheeks as you pulled your legs up to your body, as if they’d somehow help to keep your heart from beating straight through your chest. Your nails dug into your calves, partially in an attempt to keep your legs firmly pressed to yourself, but partly because the sting of them biting into your skin helped to counteract the growing panic inside of you.

And that’s when you’d heard Frank’s thudding, hurried footsteps as he came rushing out of the bedroom and straight into the kitchen. With vision tinged in white at the edges, you struggled to look up at Frank when he paused at the entrance of the room. You could only imagine how you looked to him right now, huddled in a ball beside the shattered coffee mug, tears pouring down your cheeks as you continued to suck in shallow, gasping breaths. 

He didn’t stand there long. In four quick strides he was on the floor beside you, a stern and almost unreadable expression on his face. But even in the midst of your panic attack, you could still see the fear and worry hidden behind his dark eyes. He was terrified and confused.

“Talk to me, sweetheart,” he ordered.

His hands hovered in the air between you both, as if he wanted to offer you comfort but he wasn’t certain if he should touch you. Your tongue darted out of your dry mouth to wet your lips as you attempted to concentrate, but the lack of proper oxygen to your brain with the way you’d been breathing was causing everything to become a haze. And with the way your breaths kept coming in sharp and shallow, there was no way you could get a word out.

“Are you hurt?” he asked. “Somethin’ happen? Tell me what’s goin’ on.”

You shook your head in answer to his questions, your entire body trembling against the kitchen cabinets behind you. There was no way you could form words right now, not with the way it felt like your throat was closing up.

Almost as if a light went off in Frank’s head a second later, realization dawned on him and his entire demeanor shifted. Immediately the urgency left his voice, his tone becoming something soft and soothing as his hands finally and gently landed on your shoulders. Though the concern was still apparent in his eyes, not something he could just push away.

“Relax, honey,” he said. “You’re alright. ‘S'just a panic attack.”

You nodded, breath still coming in sharp, short gasps. This wasn’t the first one you’d had, but that didn’t alleviate the fear and embarrassment that managed to surface within you at the moment. You didn’t want Frank to see you like this.

“Need you to take some deep breaths, sweetheart,” he told you. “In and out. Can you do that for me?”

Nodding again, you felt a few more hot tears streak their way down your cheeks. As Frank’s thumbs drew comforting little circles along your shoulders, his face hovering just a foot in front of yours, you tried to inhale a deep, shaky breath.

“That’s it, honey,” he praised. “Nice and slow. Don’t fight it, just breathe through it.”

Nails digging tight into your calves, you tried to focus on Frank’s face and his soothing words. Inhaling another ragged breath in, you tried to take a full breath while fighting the protesting burning in your lungs. Frank’s eyes remained fixed on you as you inhaled the breath, but his hands released your shoulders, both of them coming down to gently pull your fingers away from where they were digging into your calves. 

“Keep going, sweetheart,” he encouraged. “Doin’ good.”

As you inhaled a few more sharp breaths, your tears gradually began to slow even if the trembling of your body did not lessen. The rough pads of Frank’s thumbs began soothingly stroking the back of your hands, the sensation helping to steadily draw you back to the present and out of your head.

“I’m–I’m sorry,” you gasped out.

“Shh, I’ve got you now. I’m here,” Frank murmured, pulling you in towards himself. “Don’t apologize.”

Clinging to him, your hands desperately grabbed at the back of his soft sweater as you buried your face into his shoulder. Your breathing was still shallow and uneven, your heart beating a little erratically in your chest, but you felt yourself little by little coming back out of the panic attack as you continued to follow Frank’s calm instructions to breathe in and out.

It was a few minutes before you finally felt yourself really calm down. You kept your face buried in Frank’s shoulder, embarrassment coursing through you. You couldn’t believe he’d just witnessed you have a panic attack, let alone over something so stupid.

“You good?” he eventually asked after a moment.

Nodding your head against his shoulder, your fingers eased their grip on his sweater, though you didn’t release your hold of him. “Yeah,” you quietly answered.

“What was that 'bout?” he asked.

You stiffened in his arms, afraid to tell him the truth. Tonight was the first family gathering of yours he’d agreed to attend, which meant he was bound to witness some of these comments firsthand. Even if you didn’t tell him about it now, you knew he’d eventually see it happening later.

“C’mon sweetheart,” Frank gently prompted. “Can’t help if you don’t talk to me.”

“It’s…it’s stupid,” you muttered into his shoulder.

“Not stupid if it’s got you this upset,” he disagreed. “Talk to me.”

Sighing, you turned and rested your cheek along his shoulder, keeping your eyes averted as embarrassment continued to flush your face. “It’s just…this Thanksgiving dinner tonight. I have this–this aunt that I cannot stand. She’s always stuck her nose into my personal business–and I mean real personal sometimes. And she makes these–” you paused, wincing, “–these horribly rude comments to me. Usually when it’s just her cornering me somewhere, but sometimes over the holiday dinners in front of everyone. And I–I just don’t want to see her.”

“Then don’t go,” he said. “We don’t have to.”

“I can’t just not go, Frank,” you replied. “I’d never see my family for holidays again if I simply just stopped going to family gatherings. And generally I enjoy seeing everybody else, it’s just–just her. And I’m…”

Your voice trailed off, your eyes focused on the shattered coffee mug still on the floor just behind Frank. Besides hearing the things she might throw at you this time, the other thing that had been bothering you recently was the fact that this time she would be making these comments in front of Frank. He’d be there to hear every jab she made about you, every comment about what a failure she thought you were or what she deemed wrong with your appearance. Right in front of him.

“You’re what?” he asked.

Swallowing hard, your eyes slowly closed before you answered him in a small voice. “I’m not looking forward to you hearing it.”

Frank’s large hands were immediately pulling your face away from his shoulder before turning it to look at him. You were met with a firm, fearsome expression, one that would’ve sent a shudder down your spine if you hadn’t known how soft he truly was beneath that gruff and intimidating exterior. 

“She won’t say a goddamn thing with me there, sweetheart,” Frank told you, voice a low warning. “Promise you that.”

You smiled softly back up at him. “Frank, you can’t start a physical altercation at Thanksgiving dinner,” you pointed out.

“No,” he agreed. “But I don’t have to do that to get her to keep her mouth shut.”

An amused snort slipped out of you at his words, your mind racing through a myriad of possible situations of how Frank would keep your aunt from verbally attacking you this evening. Each scenario was just as satisfying as the next.

“Honestly, I don’t doubt that,” you replied before sighing. “And I know this…just seems like a dumb thing to get so worked up over but…her comments really get to me. Just every time I see her, she’s always twisting the knife. And then her words stick with me. Always have ever since I was little.”

Frank held you a bit tighter in his arms as he shook his head firmly. “Not alright with anyone talkin’ to you like that. Making you feel this upset,” he told you. “She’s already on my shit list and I haven’t met her.”

You couldn’t fight back the little laugh that bubbled out of you at the idea of Frank Castle putting your aunt on his ‘shit list.’ A tiny grin slipped onto his lips at the sound, a mischievous glint appearing in his dark eyes.

“I have a feeling you and her will not get along this evening,” you said.

“I’ve got that same feeling, sweetheart,” Frank replied, his grin growing. “But whatever happens, you know I’ll be right there.”

Smiling softly up at him, you nodded. “Yeah, yeah I know you will be.”

Frank pulled you back to his chest, his hands once more soothingly running along your back. When he spoke again, his voice a deep rumble, you felt a bit of the anxiety in your mind easing just a bit.

“Not gonna be alone tonight,” he murmured. “Be right there with you.”

Frank Castle One Shot Tag List: @heimtathurs @linamarr @wkndwlff @kmc1989 @shiorimakibawrites @xxdrixx @leikelle @pinkratts @1988-fiend @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @stilldreaming666 @will-delete-this-later-probably @yarrystyleeza @pone21 @millennial-birkin @harleycao @kezibear @justanerd1 @sadest-bookshelf @loves0phelia

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Tuna-Tober Day 6 - George Weasley

pairing: Geroge Weasley x fem!reader

prompt: "Shh...I've got you now. I'm here."

word count: 2,051

content: Unforgivable Curse use, blood, choking, bounding to chair

tuna-tober masterlist / main masterlist

dividers by: @firefly-graphics

You were attending your now mandatory seventh year of school at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and it was going about as well as you expected with everything going on with the war against You-Know-Who. Hogwarts of course wasn’t spared from the infestation of his followers, and with Dumbledore dead, the place had all gone to pot. 

Snape was in charge, and as if that wasn’t bad enough by itself, there were two new professors who were known followers of You-Know-Who… The Carrows. The brother taught what was now just called Dark Arts and the sister taught the required class of Muggle Studies. Instead of the class focusing on Muggle artefacts and how they functioned though, she taught how inferior the Muggles were compared to Wizards and how You-Know-Who would restore the “proper order” of things. You thought it was all total rubbish and you had made it clear to them from day one that you weren’t falling for their propaganda. 

By the end of the first month, you were getting stir crazy with not knowing how things were going on the outside of the castle and knowing that no one knew what was going on inside. The Profit wasn’t publishing anything useful, so you attempted to get an owl out to your long time boyfriend, George Weasley, to ask what he knew. It was a calculated risk, and the reward was not worth it. The Carrows had intercepted your letter before it even left the school grounds and you were subjected to corporal punishment at their hand. 

Needless to say, it was hard getting mail in and out of the school by the usual means, so after some thinking, you had resorted to using the secret passages hidden throughout the school grounds. You knew of these only because George had shown you some of them before he and his twin brother departed the school in grand fashion when Delores Umbridge took over the school. As bad as it was nowadays, sometimes you wished that Umbridge was still in charge. At least with her, seventh year students weren’t instructed to torture first years…

Even with getting owls out through a secret passage that took you to the Hogshead Inn, there was always the potential for mail to be intercepted and read though, so when things started getting rough, you and George had come up with a code system that you would use in your letters. The cipher was sent in multiple pieces over weeks, but once it was established, communication between Hogwarts and the outside world was a go. Because of this, you were the main source of information about the happenings of the school for Potterwatch listeners and freedom fighters throughout the wizarding world. Not that they could do anything about it…

Some weeks, there was nothing but bad news at the school, and your letters simply served as proof of life, and George’s replies did the same. You usually wrote of what the new rules were for the school, how punishment had changed, and just the daily happenings around the castle. One day though, George received a very different letter and the handwriting wasn’t yours. It was asking him to come to the school immediately. 

Hours before…

You were irritably bouncing your leg as you sat in your seat for Dark Arts class. Professor Carrow had once more brought a group of first years to be punished for trivial rubbish. Up until now, you had never been called upon to dole out their punishment, but still, you hated to have to watch the poor young kids suffer at the hands of other students. Some days you had worked with your fellow DA members and got word out that there was trouble in your class. They would cause a distraction outside so you could sneak the young students out to avoid punishment. This of course caused you to get in trouble instead, but you were okay with that. You were more capable of enduring the Carrows. 

Things were different today. The Carrows had been particularly harsh throughout the week, and were getting people in trouble for the littlest of things. Someone’s robe was slightly wrinkled? Detention. They wore their tie slightly off centre? Detention. A student flipped the pages of their textbook too loudly? Detention. Needless to say, you were fed up. After months of enduring their terror, you felt like you were at your breaking point. And it only got worse when you were called up to the front of the room by Professor Carrow. 

“It has been brought to my attention that you’ve never been called up for your practice with the Cruciatus Curse. I think it’s time we change that,” he said, a small smirk on his lips as you stood before him. You refused to look in his eye and instead glared over his shoulder. “I’ve seen your talent with it when we’ve practised on rodents. You’ve got a lot of anger inside of you, child. Now you just need to take it out on these weak children.”

You turned and looked at the tired and terrified faces in front of you. Some you knew had gotten in trouble before and were just wanting to get this over with, but some were brand new faces. Likely subject to detention because of a minor infraction. Their terrified eyes pleaded with you, begging without words for you to not hurt them. It broke your heart. 

“I won’t,” you stated defiantly, still not turning to give Carrow your respect. 

“You will,” he snarled as he pressed the tip of his wand into the side of your neck. His voice suddenly got closer and his breath was hot on your skin as he said, “If you don’t, I will. And I won’t relent until they’ve learned their lesson.”

This statement had you seeing red and your chest began to heave with anger. The grip you had on your wand tightened, and before he could make another move, you snapped around and pointed your wand at him, shouting, “Crucio!” when he was in your sights. 

“Go, now!” shouted Sheamus before standing up with a few other DA members who began clearing the room. Before he left, Sheamus turned back and called out your name for you to follow, but was met with a horrifying sight. 

Once you stopped concentrating on the curse and Carrow recovered from the pain you subjected him to, he was furious. Before you could even turn tail and run out of the classroom, Carrow had bellowed, “Diffindo!” and large gashes ripped through your robes and skin, causing blood to start seeping into your clothes. Your screams pierced the air before Carrow was grabbing you by the throat and shouting, “You think you can turn your wand on me?! You think you can get away with that unscathed?! You’re in for a world of torture, girl!” 

“Sheamus, go!” you managed to choke out when you realised that he was still in the room. 

“No!” Carrow shouted, flicking his wand and causing the heavy classroom door to slam shut. “You, boy, as punishment for aiding the other children, are going to help me deal with this brat! The two of you are close, so with what I have in mind, it’ll be punishment enough. If you don’t, you’ll be subject to the same.” After he finished his statement, he tightened his grip on your throat the slightest bit while waiting for an answer. 

“I won’t!” Sheamus countered. 

“Just…just do it!” you choked out, your voice quiet even to your own ears as you began to get dizzy. 

You didn’t hear your friend say anything, but assumed that he agreed when Carrow’s hold on you released and you crumbled to the ground, gasping for air. The relief was momentary though, because within seconds you were being forced up and into a chair before being bound to it. 

As you slumped forward, you heard Sheamus mumble, “Forgive me…” before your body was wracked with the most excruciating pain you had ever experienced. 

What followed was more wounds being inflicted into your skin and the chair with you in it being blasted into the wall. You lost count of how many times the Cruciatus Curse was cast on you, but even through your scrambled thoughts, you could tell which ones Carrow cast - they were more painful. More evil. 

By the time black was threatening to take over your vision, you finally heard, “I think she’s learned her lesson.” The chair magically sat upright as Carrow snarled, “Next time you know not to disobey me. This is going to be child’s play compared to what you’ll endure if you dare turn your wand on me again. Now get out of my classroom.”

Sheamus waved his wand and your bounds were released, causing you to collapse out of the chair and onto the floor in a heap. You were in and out of it as he practically dragged you in the direction of the Room of Requirement. When the two of you arrived, Sheamus was calling, “Neville! Hannah! I need some help!” 

“What happened?” Hannah asked, her eyes wide as she took in your bloodied form. 

“She refused to cast the Cruciatus Curse on the first-years. Cast it on Carrow instead,” he told her with a shake of his head. A grim look crossed his features and he scowled as he added, “He made me cast it on her too. Five times. I had half a mind to turn my wand on him too…”

“Good thing you didn’t. This is awful…” Hannah whispered as she started helping Sheamus get you to a secluded area to tend to your wounds. Before they got to the area, she turned to Neville and said, “Write to George. He needs to know what’s happened.”

“On it,” Neville agreed before rushing off to get a letter written. 

“Where is she?” George asked urgently as he ducked through the portrait that hid the passage from the Hogshead Inn. 

“They’re still trying to heal her, mate, just give-” Neville said as he stood up from his desk. 

“I need to see her!” George snapped, the terror and fury in his eyes obvious to Neville who nodded and took George to where Hannah and Sheamus were still healing the many gashes Carrow had inflicted on you. 

“We’ve gotten most of it, there shouldn’t be any visible scars,” Hannah said, giving George a small smile as she wrapped a blanket around you. 

She and Sheamus stood, and the latter clasped George’s hand in his before going in for a quick hug with a pat on the back, telling him, “She’s been asking for you. Good to see you, mate.”

George simply nodded before making his way to your side. He settled down into the heap of pillows before pulling you gently into his arms. When he did, you finally let go of the tears you had been holding back since Carrow got his hands on you. “Shh…I’ve got you now. I’m here,” George whispered, his voice thick with emotion as he pulled you closer and nuzzled into your hair, kissing your head gently as he did. 

It took a while, but you finally calmed down enough to whisper, “Thank you…”

“For what?” George asked, placing a kiss on your temple. 

“For coming. You…you didn’t have to. It’s dangerous,” you replied, shifting so you could wrap your arms around him and snuggle into his chest. 

“For you I’d risk anything,” he told you. Soon enough, your exhaustion took over and you fell asleep in George’s arms. The sleep itself was heavy, but your mind was filled with nightmares that you were sure you wouldn’t escape for years to come. 

From then on, George would make trips to the school to check in on you as well as deliver things the DA and rebelling students needed. The first trip back was to bring a surplus of supplies to make potion for dreamless sleep. After that was prank supplies to boost morale. Then it was defensive products to protect yourselves. Some days it was simply him, and those days you were especially grateful for. George was your safe place and you were his. And in these times of war, that was something you both needed. 

I always think it's interesting to see stories written from the year that the Trio wasn't there, so that's what inspired this lil story for the prompt. I once again am showing off how much I love writing George Weasley's protective side!

likes and comments are always appreciated! xo, brooke <3

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Day 2 - "Why? Why do you love me?"

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x Reader Word Count: 481 Content: Angst. . . whoops, hurt/comfort? I think?? Tuna-Tober 2024 Masterlist <- check out the other fics posted this month!

A/N: I had such a hard time debating which prompt to choose for this day because I liked all three options. I wanted to make this prompt happy and fluffy. . . I don't know what possessed me to make it angsty though. I also wrote this in 20 minutes so I apologize if it's not perfect.

The question lingers in the air, you turn around and see Gojo looking directly at you. His sunglasses are partially falling down his nose so you can see all of him, just as he can see all of you.

“Why? Why do you love me?”

He’s never asked a question like this so directly before, he always dances around questions like this. It’s caught you off guard, your mouth hanging agape at his bluntness. Why would he ask-?

He takes your silence as the answer as he drops your hand he was holding. Wait-

“Nevermind,” He adjusts his glasses so they cover his eyes and his stance becomes careless. You open your mouth, willing any sound to come out but nothing will. You feel your throat start to close up from anxiety and you can’t even breathe. Why would he-?

“I heard that there was a new cafe opening up nearby Jujutsu High, hopefully they’ll have better sweets than the one cafe I’ve been going to. It’s been such a pain to warp back and forth from the school to Shinjuku~” He puts his hands behind his head and starts walking forward, acting like he didn’t just ask-

“Because I just do!” You yell at him. He stops moving and turns to you, “What?”

“I love you because you’re so annoying it hurts. I love you because you push me out of my comfort zone and you get me to experience things I would have never tried before. I love you because if I didn’t then my world would come crashing down. I love you because there’s no one else I would rather love.” You step closer and closer to him, trying to get him to understand.

You reach up and gently put your hands on his face, cradling it. You bring his face down to meet yours, just inches apart from each other. You let go and remove his sunglasses, placing them on top of his head.

“Love takes work, and I’m willing to put that work in for you. I love you just because I do.” You caress his face and he leans into your touch hesitantly.

“I don’t want to lose you,” His voice cracks, “You won’t.” You reply quickly. A sad smile appears on his face.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep sweetheart.”

“Just because I’m not the strongest, doesn’t mean I won’t fight like hell to be with you,” You smile at him, “Try to have a little faith in me.”

He tilts his head to meet yours, your foreheads touching each other. You close your eyes and just feel. He wraps his arms around you and holds onto possessively, unwilling to let you go, as if he can wrap his infinity around you to keep you safe.

But he can’t, not forever at least. But for now holding onto each other will have to do.

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✨🐟PROMPTS FILLED: "Shh, I've got you now. I'm here."🐟✨

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Tuna-tober Day 6

Just to be clear, I only have 2 more days written. Day 7 and 10. I don't know if I'll get anything else done. If not, I hope you've enjoyed what I've put out!

Prompt: "Shh. I've got you now. I'm here."

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader

Word Count: 515

You thought you knew pain. Thought you understood what it felt like. But then the Hand took you. They took you and they tortured you for what felt like weeks but was only days. All because you knew Daredevil. 

They asked you all sorts of questions about him. Who he was, what he did, how he managed to do what he did. 

And you told them nothing. 

It didn't matter what they did to you, you refused to tell them anything about Matt. You knew if you gave up his identity that he was as good as dead. There would be no stopping the Hand from going after him. You knew this deep in your bones.

So you let them torture you. Let them push you to your limits. Everything in you hurt. When you weren't being tortured, you were barely conscious. 

Maybe that's why you didn't hear the commotion at first. 

The cell you were in was dark and you spent your time curled up in the corner as far from the door as possible. So when it opened, you merely curled in tighter and closed your eyes. This time though, there was no pain that followed. Just gentle hands coaxing you to unfurl. 

“Shh. I've got you now. I'm here.” You'd recognize that voice anywhere. Warily, you cracked your eyes open and nearly wept at what you saw. 

The outline of a devil's horns towered over you and you'd never been so happy to see them.

“D…” You croaked out, reaching for him. He immediately pulled you up and into his arms, being gentle so as not to hurt you further. But you cared little for his caution. You wrapped around him and sobbed. 

“Shhh, sweetheart. It's okay. You've got to calm down. You're very sick and hurt right now.” Matt whispered, holding you close. “Let's get you out of here.”

Matt adjusted you in his arms then lifted you carefully. He carried you out of your cell and up to the warehouse above you. But when he went to lay you down on a bench, you protested.

“I know, I know.” He whispered. “But I can't be here when the ambulance gets here. But Luke and Jessica are gonna stay with you, okay? I'll meet you at the hospital, I promise.”

“Please don't leave me.” You whimpered, clutching him close to you. You felt him shudder and then slowly, carefully, kiss your temple.

“They're almost here. I have to go. But I'll be at the hospital. I promise.” You felt tears slip free but you nodded. You did understand but that didn't mean it was easy for you to let go of him. Slowly, you released him. He pressed his forehead to yours before he took off, climbing his way out. You watched him until he disappeared and then closed your eyes. You could hear Luke and Jessica around you but you didn't have the strength to talk to them. Just as you heard the ambulance, you slipped into unconsciousness. 

You could only hope your devil would be there when you woke. 

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✨🐟PROMPTS FILLED: ALMOST GETTING CAUGHT🐟✨

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Day 6 - Almost Getting Caught

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x Reader Word Count: 405 Content: Fluff, a little suggestive but it's not smut, Reader is Yuji's Aunt (she's his mom's sister) Tuna-Tober 2024 Masterlist <- check out the other fics posted this month!

A/N: Once again I wrote this in about 20 minutes so it's definitely not perfect. That being said this is a small little taste of a series that I'm working on and want to post soon (I just want to have most of the fic written out before I start posting it)! Also this is from the backup prompt list of Tuna-Tober. Enjoy!!

“Hey Auntie, I had a quest-”

“YUJI! What a surprise!!” THUNK! You come out of your bedroom, slamming the door shut and straightening out your teaching uniform.

Yuji looks at you with confusion, his hand resting on his chin, eyes squinting like he’s in deep thought. You know what’s really going on in his head is just radio silence. You shake your head to avoid laughing at how serious he looks.

You fix your hair, “What is it hon?”

“I was just wondering if you would spar with me, but if you’re busy-?”

“I’m not busy at all, just um. . .” You brush off stray dust off your skirt, “I was just going for my usual run and I sensed you walking towards my room and I figured I’d save you the trouble of finding me.” You smile at him, hoping that would be convincing enough.

He breaks his concentration and gives you a smile back, “That’s really thoughtful of you Auntie.”

“Well, I can meet you at the gym in about 15 minutes. Let me get into something more appropriate for sparring.”  

“Okay I’ll see you in a bit then!” He salutes at you as you lead him out of your room. Once he’s out of your sight you sigh and shut the door. Your bedroom door slowly opens as Gojo peaks his head out.

“Well?”

“He bought it.”

“Seriously?” Gojo fully opens the door, shirt fully off and his blindfold askew.

“We only have 10 minutes though,” You start unbuttoning the top of your uniform, walking up to Gojo.

“I seem to remember someone saying she’ll meet Yuji in 15~” He leans down and starts leaving a trail of kisses down your neck.

You try to push him away, your resolve weakening, “10 minutes Gojo.”

He works his way back up your neck and gives you a quick kiss on your lips, “15.”

You give him a look as he starts helping you undress, “10.” 

He doesn’t stop smiling as he kisses you again, “15.” 

“10.” You breathe out once he pulls away. You tug his blindfold off and push him towards your bed. 

He reaches out to you, “You’re not winning this fight sweetheart~” 

“Five of your minutes just ticked away~” You put your hand in his and he immediately pulls you into the bed with him.

“And that leaves us with 10 minutes, it’s settled then. Glad we could figure this out.”

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✨🐟PROMPTS FILLED: NIGHTMARE🐟✨

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Nightmare🌧️

angst babes!!!

Ship: Worst!Logan Howlett x f!Reader

Rating: 16+

Wordcount: 986

Warnings: experimentation, allusions to drowning, needles, nightmares, PTSD struggles, cursing, self-doubt

Series: Leg's Tuna Tober

Clear water surrounded him on all sides. Burying him in a freezing, liquid tomb. He was completely submerged. Frigid liquid would be slithering into his lungs if it wasn't for the rebreather firmly lodged between his teeth. Artificial air pumped into his mouth in quick bursts. Opening his eyes resulted in them stinging from the chemicals in the water, so he remained in darkness.

The sounds of the world around him were muffled. Faint discussion filtered through the water like raindrops on a car roof. Snatches of "pulse at 82," "body temperature nominal," "preparing the adamantium now," reached his strained ears. Fists clenched around the metal table beneath him. What was taking so long?

Mechanical whirring buzzed in the water. Like a swarm of angry wasps submerged in a pond. It was hard to tell where the sound was coming from. Waves of harsh droning sped through the water at high velocity. He would have covered his ears if it weren't for the metal restraints firmly holding his wrists to the table.

Dozens of spinning needles stabbed into his skin. Hot poker after hot poker spearing into his flesh and making him cry out into the rebreather. Sparks of absolute agony swirled in the blood leaking from his new wounds. He thrashed against his restraints, desperate to escape from this new torture.

Logan's eyes snapped open as a harsh breath filled his lungs. His pulsed raced in his ears like a galloping horse. Sweat covered his skin in a thin coat. The cotton sheets flew from his body in fistfuls of cloth as he threw them from himself, scrambling to sit at the edge of the bed.

As his bare feet touched the hardwood, chest heaving, he took in his surroundings. Framed pictures of his new life in this universe decorated every available wall and flat surface. Images of parties at Wade and Althea's apartment, Mary Puppins graduating from dog-training, Laura with her new girlfriend. The group of framed pictures on his nightstand were singled out, the photos containing someone he held so dearly the frames were more expensive than the rest.

You.

Stills of you and Logan at a bar getting drinks, you asleep on the couch with Mary Puppins in your lap, you and Wade playing cards when you know he cheats. Your bright smile decorated every frame in a cheerful glow. Always one to make people happy without ever really trying.

A deep, revitalizing breath filled Logan's chest as he scooped up one of the pictures. It was a selfie he had taken a few months ago. You and Logan were on the beach somewhere in California. Teals and greens flowed over your shoulders from the two-piece bathing suit you'd decided to wear that day. Your sunburned arms were wrapped around Logan's shoulders, lips pressed to his cheek as you gave him a laughter-filled kiss. A content smile was stretched across his weathered face.

Logan looked over his bare shoulder to see you. Cuddled under the blankets, mouth slightly parted, deep in sleep. Your hair was lightly tousled from your usual tossing and turning.

How did he ever land himself here? After everything he'd done, or didn't do? How in the fuck did he manage to build this perfect life with you? How did he earn the right to wake up next to you every morning, a sleepy smile playing at your lips as you kissed his forehead, with pure adoration flooding his senses?

The frame glinted in the moonlight as he set it back on his nightstand. Logan's touch lingered on the glass. Wind had blown your hair from the bun you'd secured it in earlier that day. Wisps blew across your closed eyes and had tickled Logan's nose.

"Logan?" came your mumbled whisper. He shifted on the bed until he was facing you. Tired eyes blinked up at him from your place amongst the sheets. Your eyebrows were furrowed, confusion etching into your sleep-addled features.

"Sorry, doll. Nightmare," he cooed quietly. He smoothed his palm along your cheek. Your skin was warm, plush, comfortable. Like holding a peach on a summer's day.

You nuzzled deeper into his hand. A small smile pulled at your lips, "It's okay. Wanna talk about it?"

The question hung heavily around his head. Smoke curled in his mind from where his nightmares originated. Clouded, a monstrous fog that Logan could never quite focus on. It lingered in his mind like storm clouds over a choppy sea. He'd tried to direct his ship toward the tempest, to access his memories, but he'd always sink beneath the waves before he'd reach it.

Doomed to repeat his past every night and to not remember a single thing.

"Nah, I'm alright, sugar. Go back to sleep," he soothed as he brushed a stray hair away from your face. Your hands unburied themselves from the sheets and gripped at his forearm.

"At least hold me until then?" you asked, so damn sweetly. Like the only shelter in the wilderness was in Logan's arms. Like he was safe, someone worth being near when times got tough.

"Of course," he breathed with a sigh. You tugged the sheets down to offer Logan space to envelop you. He dutifully obeyed, sliding under the covers and cradling you to his chest. A content sigh puffed from your lips. He felt your eyes flutter closed as you buried your nose against his neck.

"Love ya, Lo," you slurred into his skin. It was only a few moments before your breathing mellowed out, sleep taking you under its soft wings.

Logan ran his hand up and down your spine. Soft skin ran past his fingertips in fields of heated velvet. The repetitive motion grounded him, reminded him that you were his. He pressed a kiss into the crown of your head.

"I love you, too," he whispered. He knew, unequivocally, that he was yours. Nightmares and all.

i might cry

taglist: @ripleyswife @just-a-nightdreamer @www-interludeshadow-com @venomqueen2002 @c1eepypas1a @amphitrite-5 @yarrystyleeza

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✨🐟PROMPTS FILLED: "Are you blushing?" + Love Bites🐟✨

✨🐟Find the rest of the Tuna-Tober prompts here, and remember to follow to see what other prompt fics these writers might drop this October!🐟 ✨

Day 4 - Dusty Rose

Prompt: 4 - “Are you blushing” + 6 - Love Bites Character: Matt Murdock Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader Word Count: 728 Warnings: Referenced sexual activity, swearing, teasing Tags: @loves0phelia, @nowheredreamer, @beezusvreeland, @yarrystyleeza, @justvalkyrie Tuna-Tober 2024 Masterlist

Dusty Rose

Matt just wanted to surprise you with breakfast.

It seemed like his plans were going off without a hitch. He had left you sleeping, naked and sated, in the bed while he dressed himself and silently slipped out of your room. He left no note, confident in his ability to return before you woke up. While Nevermore wasn’t the closest coffee shop, it was usually less busy at this hour than the Coffee Crab.

His first clue that something might be gone awry was the number of girls who giggled when he walked past them. A few wasn’t unusual but it seemed like every girl he passed ended up giggling and whispering to her friends comments like ‘true facts’ or ‘absolutely agree’. 

And he had no idea why.

It was a little tempting to stop someone and ask what was so funny. But he had a limited time to complete his mission so he decided to ignore it.

As predicted, Nevermore wasn’t too busy. The giggling continued to follow him but he continued to ignore it. Right up until he heard Foggy’s familiar heartbeat walked into the cafe and immediately began to snort like he was trying not to laugh. He had almost regained control of himself when he joined Matt at the back of the line. Only to immediately struggle again.

“Hey buddy,” Foggy said, throwing his arm over Matt’s shoulder. “Have fun last night?”

“Yeah,” Matt said, attempting to sound nonchalant. “Got a lot of studying done while I was sexiled from our room.”

“I’m sure,” Foggy said, his tone extremely skeptical. “Didn’t know you were taking biology this semester.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Dude, you’re wearing your girlfriend’s sweatpants,” Foggy said.

“What?!” Matt felt the pants and realized that Foggy was right. He had been so concerned about not waking you that he grabbed the wrong sweatpants out of the drawer . . .

“Which sweatpants?” he asked, having a sudden horrifying suspicion.

The grin spreading across Foggy’s face was clear as he answered, “Bright pink with ‘hot stuff’ written in red across the ass.”

Matt felt the blood flooding his face and knew he was blushing.

“Also . . .”

“There’s more?!”

Foggy couldn’t contain his laughter anymore. “Foggy!”

“That vee neck you’re wearing is showing off those hickies running down your neck. Didn’t know your girl was such a vampire.”

He hadn’t been unaware of those little bruises forming last night but he had been rather . . . distracted. “Oh . . . didn’t realize they’d be so visible.”

“Curse of that pale Irish skin, buddy,” Foggy said with a mixture of real and pretend sympathy. “Hickies are the most vivid purple on the planet. And you all but glow in the dark when you blush.”

This only brought more blood rushing to his cheeks. “That bad?”

“Your face is almost as red as the lettering on those pants.”

Foggy was momentarily prevented from further teasing by them reaching the counter. And thank all that was holy and good, the barista was utterly professional the entire time. Matt was able to get his order and walk back to your dorm with what little dignity he had left.

That you had woken up before he could return only added to his disappointing morning.

“Hey Matty,” you called out. He knew when you had spotted the sweatpants mishap by the quickly stifled laughter.

“You can laugh, sweetheart,” he said with a sigh. “Everyone else has.”

You immediately took him up on that offer. Managing to say between giggles, “Can’t say I disagree with those pants.”

Matt grumbled a little as he held out your coffee.

“Matty, are you blushing?”

“No,” he immediately denied.

“I don’t know, Matty,” you said, pretending to be thoughtful. “That dusty rose looks an awful lot like a blush to me.”

“It’s your imagination.” Which only made you laugh at him again.

“What woke you up?” He asked, hoping to change the subject.

“E-mail notification,” you said. “Our morning class was canceled.”

“Really?”

“Yep, nowhere to be until noon.”

“Darn, I could have slept in.”

“You could get some more sleep, if you want,” you said. “Or . . .”

“Or?” he asked huskily, feeling his cock swell as your scent of your arousal began to fill the air.

You let your robe drop to the floor. Leaving you naked once more. His mouth watered.

“Or you can fuck me, Hot Stuff.”

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✨🐟PROMPTS FILLED: SIXTY-NINE 🐟✨

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Day 4 - Compromise

Prompt: 4 - Sixty-Nine Character: Michael Kinsella Pairing: Michael Kinsella x Reader Word Count: 755 Warnings: Referenced sex, explicit sex, 69 position, oral sex (male and female receiving), swearing Tags: @loves0phelia, @nowheredreamer, @beezusvreeland, @lulukings92, @yarrystyleeza Tuna-Tober 2024 Masterlist

Compromise

One of Michael’s best qualities was that he wasn’t a selfish lover. He loved eating you out until your legs gave out. Even when he was fucking you, he never forgot your orgasm. Ever. Your pleasure seemed to matter more to him than his own.

Which was great. It was wonderful to be with someone so attentive. Especially after so many years of men who only cared about their own pleasure, that thought sex was over once they orgasmed. Not Mikey. He made sure that you orgasmed, more than once if possible, and never skipped aftercare.

Between that and doing his share of the housework without prodding, Michael Kinsella had ruined you for all other men.

The only fly in the ointment was that you weren’t a selfish lover either. As much as you liked receiving pleasure, you also liked giving it. You wanted to make him feel good. But when you expressed a desire to do so, that’s when his tendency to downplay his own needs and wants reared its ugly head.

The very idea of focusing primarily on him and his pleasure just did not compute. The baffled look he gave you when you insisted that you would enjoy sucking his cock would have been cute under any other circumstance. But under this circumstance, it was just frustrating.

After a couple of rounds of irresistible force meets an immovable object, you and Michael came to a compromise. Mutual oral sex aka the sixty-nine. It wasn’t something you had done before but you were willing to give it a try.

Even if it was a little awkward, having your ass in Michael’s face like this.

“I like havin’ yer arse in my face,” he countered. His voice had taken on that deep, smokey quality that went straight to your cunt. As if to emphasize his assertion, he started kneading your ass in his hands. “Ya have the best arse in Ireland.”

“I think you are confusing me for yourself, Mikey,” you said.

He snorted, “Gotta disagree with ya, pet.”

You disagreed but now was not the time to start an argument about who had the better ass (which was obviously Michael). You’d deal with that nonsense later. Right now, you had other things that needed your attention.

Like this pretty cock right in front of you. Flushed bright pink, it was tempting you to lick it. So that’s what you did, running the flat of your tongue across the head. You felt Michael’s body underneath you jolt. You wanted to smirk. He hadn’t been expecting that.

He couldn’t contain a moan when you repeated the action. Or began to lap, chasing every drop of the salty pre-cum leaking out of his cock. But if there was one (more) thing that Michael was good at it, it was reacting quickly. Using his grip on your ass, he tugged you closer to him. You shivered at the prickly sensation of his beard against your inner thigh.

But that was nothing compared to the shudder that wracked your body when his tongue ran through your folds. Once. Twice. Before focusing on his target - your clit. It was your turn to moan when he began doing the same flat licks to the sensitive little nub as you were doing to his cock.

Then he started sucking gently on your clit. You were unable to stop yourself from squirming. Especially when he upped the ante by humming. You cried out. The vibration alone was almost enough to tip you over that edge.

Two can play at that game Kinsella, you thought. You wrapped your lips around the head of his cock and sucked. Then you hummed. This time he was the one who lost control. His hips bucked up, pushing his cock a little further into your mouth. You moaned, your fingers digging into his thighs.

He broke the suction on your clit to groan out, “Fuck, pet, ya killin’ me”

You rewarded him by moaning around him again. 

But as before, Michael wasn’t left flat-footed for long. With rumble that almost a growl, his mouth latched back into your clit. His hands dug into your ass, holding you in place with a grip almost hard enough to bruise. You didn’t care if it did. All you cared about was the pleasure coursing through your veins . . . the obscenely loud slurping and grunting noises filling the bedroom . . . the heavy cock filling your mouth . . . the salty taste of him on your tongue . . . the building tremors in Michael’s body as you hurdled together toward that sweet, sweet peak . . . 

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✨🐟PROMPTS FILLED: "Are you blushing?"🐟✨

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Compliments

Pairing: Michael Kinsella x fem!Reader Word Count: 1.4k [Tuna-Tober Masterlist]

Tuna-Tober Prompt: "Are you blushing?"

Warnings/tags: 18+; mentions of sex, sheer fluff, making Mikey blush, naked cuddling in bed

Summary: You notice the way Michael always reacts when given a compliment and you quickly wonder what would happen if you showered him with multiple at once.

a/n: Mikey deserves to be showered with compliments on the daily and you cannot change my mind. Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

Shivering beneath the sheets, your eyelids slowly opened. Soft, faint morning light was seeping past the plain navy blue curtains as you lay along the bed, your body partially curled in along itself. Goosebumps had already begun to dot your skin just before you’d fully stirred awake, the chill of Michael’s bedroom the most likely culprit for you waking just as the sun had begun to rise. Craving his body heat, you nestled a little further backwards into his body behind you.

Last night had been the first night he’d ever asked you to stay over at his place, but you had not anticipated just how needy Michael would become when he awoke in the middle of the night with you in his bed. You weren’t going to complain about the pleasant ache that you could now feel between your thighs, smiling at the memory of Michael half-awake as he buried himself into you over and over, but as another involuntary shudder raced through your body, you regretted not dressing before falling back asleep last night. 

A hand cautiously smoothed its way over your bare hip and your body startled beneath the touch, jumping slightly in surprise. Head rolling along the pillow, you spotted Michael’s shy smile greeting you from where he lay along his own pillow behind you. His eyes were half-lidded and creased at the corners, that lone dimple in his cheek present on his tired face.

“G’morning, pet,” he greeted groggily. “How’d ya sleep?”

“Good,” you answered, rolling over in bed to face him. “Even better thanks to that midnight interruption.”

“Mmm,” he happily hummed out, his sleepy grin growing. “I'd have to agree with ya, that definitely helped me sleep better. And now it's a perfect mornin’ wakin’ with ya here.”

“It is,” you agreed. “Except I am absolutely freezing in here,” you told him, playfully pouting as you inched a bit closer to his naked body. “I will never get used to the constant chill in the air here.”

Michael’s expression shifted from sleepy to concerned as his dark brows furrowed together. “I'm sorry, pet. I didn't realize ya were cold. C'mere,” he said, his hand on your hip tugging you closer to the front of himself. “Let me help ya with that.”

Allowing him to draw you right up against his body, you reveled in the heat radiating off of him and seeping into the front of yourself. Wrapping your arms around him beneath the sheets, you smiled back at him as he slipped one of his large, warm thighs between your own. His body heat alone was quickly chasing the chill straight out of you and it had you further relaxing against him.

“How's that?” he asked. “Better?”

“Mmm,” you hummed pleasantly, one hand tracing absent patterns along his back. “Much. You're like a furnace, you know that? Or a giant space heater.”

“Oh I am, am I?” he questioned with a grin. 

You nodded, your fingers still brushing the tips of your nails affectionately back and forth across his back. You swore you saw him shudder a few times when your fingertips passed alongside his spine.

“A really handsome, really sexy space heater,” you teased, shooting him a wink. 

Michael chuckled lightly, his gaze briefly averting from you as he glanced just over your shoulder. Biting your lip, you'd caught on once more to the way he usually seemed to react to your compliments. Always with a soft, nervous laugh and sometimes a deflecting comment before he looked anywhere but at you. You quickly found yourself wondering what would happen if you suddenly complimented him repeatedly.

“With a very skilled mouth,” you mischievously added on. “A beautiful, talented mouth.”

“Oh, is that so?” he replied, his eyes hesitantly meeting yours again. “So I take it yer first night stayin’ over was grand then?”

“More than grand,” you answered, noting the way he changed the subject. “I never realized you were such a great cook. And you even clean dishes despite my insistence to let me take care of them. Ever the gentleman, Mikey.”

Michael shrugged sheepishly, the sheets slipping down his shoulder at the movement. “‘M not sure if I'd say I'm a great cook, but I'm glad ya enjoyed dinner last night. And o'course I wasn't goin’ to have ya clean up after.” He cleared his throat, his eyes once more darting away from your own. “If yer…not in a rush this mornin’ I'd happily cook ya some breakfast.”

You caught the nervous tinge to his tone when he'd asked you to stay longer this morning. As if he expected you to want to wake and immediately dart out the door instead of lingering and spending more time with him.

“I'd love to have breakfast with you, Mikey,” you told him, watching as his face brightened at your answer. “Though after how you repeatedly took care of me last night, maybe I should be the one making you breakfast this morning. You know, as a thank you for dinner and the multiple orgasms that followed.”

Grinning coyly back at Michael, you teasingly waggled your brows at him before shooting him another wink. Michael huffed out a laugh, his eyes once more flying to land somewhere just past where you lay. You were about to say something more, but then you noticed a slight tinge of color in his cheeks beginning to peek through his beard.

“Michael Kinsella, are you blushing right now?” you asked in surprise. 

Another little nervous chuckle fell from his lips as he ducked his head, entirely averting his gaze. Unable to resist how sweet his reaction was, you tugged him tighter to yourself and Michael quickly buried his face against your neck in an attempt to hide, his beard pleasantly tickling your skin.

“Yer bein’ so nice,” he mumbled. “‘M’not used to it.”

“Well get used to it, Michael,” you told him, leaning forward to plant a kiss to the top of his head. “Because I'm going to tell you how amazing, intelligent, sweet, handsome, and brilliant you are all of the time. Because clearly you haven't been told all of that remotely enough and I have a responsibility to change that.”

“Ya do, d'ya?” he asked, his voice muffled against your skin.

“Mhmm,” you hummed back, your hands still soothingly brushing up and down his bare back beneath the bed sheets. “Until you believe it. And then even after that.”

Michael made a noise that sounded like something mixed between a sigh and huff. You giggled before placing another kiss into the mess of his dark hair.

“Yer too good for me, pet,” he said, lips brushing your neck as he spoke. “Don't know how I found ya.”

“Yes you do,” you countered with a laugh. “You saved the poor tourist struggling to find a coffee shop and now you're stuck with me.”

“Best damn decision I ever made, too,” he replied with a chuckle, face still hidden against your neck. “Ya just looked so damn cute wanderin’ ‘round Dublin confused, but I couldn't let ya continue on strugglin’.” 

“And now you're giving me mind-blowing orgasms,” you teased. 

A burst of deep laughter came from Michael, his body shaking against yours. You smiled at the sound, one of your hands reaching up to affectionately play with his hair.

“Dunno ‘bout that, pet,” he said once his laughter had subsided. He withdrew his face from your neck, his eyes finally meeting yours again. “But how ‘bout I make us some breakfast? How d'ya like yer eggs?”

Your bottom lip rolled between your teeth as you bit back a smile at him trying to change the subject once again. “Fertilized,” you joked.

Michael rolled his eyes, but the smile grew on his own mouth. “Ya goin’ to be like this all mornin’?” he asked.

“Yes,” you answered. “Because I love seeing the beautiful smile on your face where it belongs.”

Another bit of red tinged Michael’s cheeks at the compliment before he loosed another chuckle and glanced away. Smiling triumphantly to yourself, you settled in for a morning of complimenting him at every opportunity that presented itself.

Michael Kinsella One Shot Tag List: @shouldbestudying41 @kmc1989 @ebathory997 @shiorimakibawrites @wkndwlff @pinkratts @lazyxsquirrel @1988-fiend @stilldreaming666 @will-delete-this-later-probably @yarrystyleeza @dramaholic18 @sunflower-tia @kezibear @loves0phelia @millennial-birkin @steve-chandler @flowher

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✨🐟PROMPTS FILLED: "This isn't you." 🐟✨

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Tuna-Tober Day 4 - Bucky Barnes

pairing: Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier x fem!Reader

prompt: "This isn't you."

word count: 1,127

content: dead dove, angst, gun use, main character death. There is no happy ending. Hurt, no comfort. Read at your own risk. You are responsible for your own media consumption.  

You stood in front of the lab hood that held a new piece of espionage tech that you had started working on a few months ago. It was in the final stages and just needed a few more adjustments before it was ready to be tested by Peggy. She was the only one you would trust to test the quality of your invention. Since you were recruited to work at SHIELD at its inception, you had worked on many projects alongside Howard Stark, but this one was one of the first that you worked on completely by yourself, and it was arguably your finest invention. 

Heading to grab your notebook off of your desk to jot down some more notes for Peggy to use once she was testing it, you heard a ruckus down the hall and what sounded like gunshots. Furrowing your eyebrows together, you started creeping toward the wall, but just as you did, a hand reached out and pulled your heel out from under you! 

You tumbled to the ground and grabbed for the small weapon hidden in your skirt’s pocket before realizing that the person who had pulled you down was Howard. “What did you do that for?!” you whisper-shouted at him as he held a finger to his mouth to hush you. 

“Whoever that is, is after you!” Howard told you in a hushed tone with wide eyes. 

“What do you mean after me? For what?” you asked, feeling your heart begin to pound in your chest. 

“I don’t know! Someone called my desk and all I could hear was the background of the call. Whoever it is was asking about where to find you!” he told you. Scrambling up onto unsteady feet, Howard started ushering you toward the back of the lab, saying, “We need to get you out of here! If we go out here and into the-”

Before he could finish his sentence, the main door to the lab burst open and revealed a man with overgrown hair and a black mask covering the lower half of his face. He wore what looked like old military tactical gear that had one sleeve ripped off to reveal a silver metal arm with a red star on it. And held in the hand of that silver arm was a gun that was pointed right at you. “Get outta the way!” Howard shouted while roughly pulling you out of the bullet’s path as the man pulled the trigger. “What do you want with her?” he asked sharply as he stood with an arm in front of you protectively. 

The man didn’t say anything, only made his way directly to your desk and grabbed your notebook off of the wooden surface. While he surveyed the desk’s contents though, a framed picture caught his eye and he hesitated as he brought the book closer to himself. You noticed this slight hesitation and furrowed your eyebrows, thinking to yourself, That was odd…

As the man in the mask looked up and made eye contact with you though, you realized why he hesitated. You knew those blue eyes anywhere. “Bucky?” you whispered, a tremor in your voice as you were forced to come to the realization that the man in front of you who shot at you only moments before was the man you thought you were going to spend the rest of your life with. The man who you were told was dead. The man who was featured in that framed picture on your desk. It was taken at the Stark Expo before he was shipped off to fight in the war. You were both beaming at the camera and had your whole lives ahead of you. But everything changed when he went to fight for the country. 

“My name’s not Bucky,” the man responded instantly, a coldness in his tone that you only ever heard him speak about Steve’s father in. 

“That…that’s the Winter Soldier…” Howard whispered as he pulled on the fabric of your blazer to try and get you to move away from the threat in front of you. You had heard of the assassin before, of course. He was credited with the killings of some of the best minds in the intelligence community. And now he was after you… Your blazer was tugged at harder as Howard said in a firmer tone, “We gotta go! Now!” 

You stood frozen to the ground though as you held eye contact with the assassin in front of you. “Howard… It’s him. It’s Bucky…” you said breathlessly. 

There was another sharp tug as Howard snapped, “That is not Bucky! He is here to kill you!” 

Ignoring your friend’s pleas, you slowly put your hands in the air before taking a cautious step toward the masked man. “This isn’t you,” you told him. Nodding your head toward the picture, you said, “That is you. James Buchanan Barnes.” A sad smile made its way onto your face and a tear escaped your eye as you continued. “The real you is the man who was gonna marry me, remember? We had a venue picked out and everything. You were gonna get Steve to officiate. We were gonna move to the suburbs and have a white picket fence once the war was over. Three kids and a couple of pets. We were gonna have a long and happy life together, Sugar.” 

A quiet sob left your mouth as you grappled once more with the fact that your life turned out nothing like you expected. Howard whispered your name in warning, but you ignored him again and held your gaze with the man in front of you as you finished with, “That man is still in that handsome head of yours. I saw your hesitation when you looked at that photo. Now please, put down the gun. We can try to help you. Please. You’re the love of my life, Bucky. I can’t lose you again.”

As you finished your plea, something was spoken into a piece of technology he had in his ear and his eyes shifted from the comforting blue that felt like home to something as cold as ice before he said, “You’re my mission.”

A single gunshot rang out and you dropped to the floor in a lifeless heap, blood pooling under your body in an instant. Howard let out a scream in horror as he rushed to your side. Without an ounce of remorse in his body language, the Winter Soldier sauntered over to your lab hood and grabbed what he came for. To the soldier, you were simply another target he was assigned by HYDRA. But deep in his mind, to Bucky, you were his world. And you were dead because of him.

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✨🐟PROMPTS FILLED: FALLING ASLEEP IN A HOSPITAL ROOM🐟✨

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A Second Pillow (Frank Castle x Fem!Reader)

Hello!! Please pretend I'm not 3 days late lmaooo...here's my first addition to the lovely Tuna-Tober!

Tuna-Tober Day 1: Falling Asleep In A Hospital Room

Pairing: Frank Castle x Fem!Reader

Warnings: hospital, mention of injuries, a little bit of angst with fluff

Word Count: 600

“Frank,” you said quietly, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. He hadn’t let go of you since he got here, hadn’t taken his eyes off you, hadn’t stopped making sure you were safe. “You can go home. I’m okay.”

“Not a chance, sweetheart,” he responded, his voice even lower than usual with how he was fighting to stay awake. It was past three in the morning, and you’d both been here since noon when he had rushed you to the emergency room. “If they wanna discharge you tomorrow morning, I’ll leave tomorrow morning.”

You smile fondly, your thumb rubbing back and forth on his hand. “I appreciate the chivalry, but you look like you’re going to pass out. At least go get some coffee.”

He just shakes his head, shifting slightly in his seat. “I'm fine. You warm enough? Need another pillow?”

Frank, to most, seemed like an impassive man. His set jaw, his furrowed brows, his constant attempts to keep this expression blank, it all pointed to the conclusion he wasn’t bothered in the slightest. But you knew him. You knew his insistence on staying put, his frequent scans of the room, and the periodic twitching of his index finger meant he was worried out of his mind. He knew you were safe. Logically, he knew you were going to be fine. But the sight of you in a hospital bed had him on edge. He felt compelled to find the threat, something he could put down to keep you alive and well. 

“Frank,” you said softly. “I’m okay. It’s just a broken bone.”

“Two broken bones.” he corrected gruffly.

You gave him a nonchalant shrug. “One broken bone, two broken bones…the only difference is gonna be my hospital bill.” you tried for a laugh but only got a grimace. You sat up and put your other hand below your joined ones, bringing them up to kiss his.

“I’m okay. I’m safe. I’m with you. Alright?”

He just stared at you for a moment, his eyes unconvinced and wavering. 

With a small grunt you move yourself to the right and pat the open spot next to you. “C’mon, big guy. You need some sleep.”

“I’m fine—“

“If you’re not gonna listen to me when I say I’m fine, I won’t listen to you when you say it. Come on.” you pat the spot again. When he doesn’t move, you cross your arms and raise an eyebrow. “Really? You would deny a woman cuddles?”

That cracked his shell, a twitch in his lips making him smile, just a little bit. It was the world to you. 

“There’s barely enough room on that mattress for you by yourself--”

You sighed, shaking your head and feigning offense. “No, no, I see how it is. I guess I’ll just have to sleep in here all by myself. Alone. Cold. Wounded--”

“Oh hell--”

You beamed as he climbed in next to you, moving close to him to rest your head on his chest.

“Easy, easy, be careful, honey.” he grumbled, enveloping your body in his arms, careful to not bump into your injuries. 

Once you were both settled and comfortable you sighed, letting your eyes drift shut. His fingers trailed back and forth on your forearm in a soothing motion, pressing a kiss to the top of your head every now and then. It wasn’t long before you both fell asleep, the sound of each other’s breathing a soothing lullaby.

@tunatober

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Tuna-tober Day 4 ALT

Here's day 4 of Tuna-tober! I used one of the alternative prompts for this day!

Prompt: Moving In Together

Pairing: Michael Kinsella x Reader

Word Count: 433

You and Michael had been seeing each other for quite some time. Moving in together was the next logical step in your relationship. And yet, you were nervous. You tried to hide it from Michael, not wanting him to think you didn't want to move in together. Because you did want to move in with him. You wanted it more than you could tell. 

But anxiety was not logical. It liked to remind you of all the things that could go wrong.

You found yourself hoping Michael wasn't able to pick up on your anxiety. You didn't want him to think you were having second thoughts. This was what you wanted. You were just nervous. 

Too bad things didn't always go your way.

Michael approached you the morning before you moved and watched you carefully. You were in one of his shirts and you were in the process of making coffee. But he could see the way you'd chewed your lip to the point of bleeding. He could see the way you would get lost in thought. He knew something was wrong and he was so worried that you were changing your mind. 

“Pet?” He called out softly. You jumped at his voice but thankfully you hadn't picked up the coffee yet. You turned to face him with your hand clutched over you chest.

“Mikey! You scared me.” He chuckled and moved closer, pulling you into his arms. He kissed your temple.

“‘m sorry, pet. It wasn't on purpose.”

“I know. Gonna put a bell on you so I can hear you coming.” You both chuckled at that. “Did you want to ask me something, Mikey?”

Michael swallowed hard before nodding. He smoothed a hand down your back.

“Just wanted ta check in with ya. Ya still wanna move in, right?” He asked timidly. You immediately pulled back to look at him.

“Of course I do! Why would you think otherwise?”

“I noticed that ye've been nervous lately. Anxious. I just wanted ta make sure ya hadn't changed your mind.” He said quietly. You sighed and settled your forehead on his shoulder.

“That's because I have been. It's not that I don't want to move in with you, because I do. It's just that I'm nervous. This is a big step for both of us and I want to make sure it goes smoothly.” Michael slipped a hand under your chin and tilted your head back so you were looking at him.

“Yer right. It is a big step. But we both want it and we're both ready. So let's take it. Together.”

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Day 5 - Sunlight

Prompts: 5 - Water Gun Fight + 17 - Tickling Character: Michael Kinsella Pairing: Michael Kinsella x Reader Word Count: ~400 Warning: Tooth-rotting fluff, spoilers for Kin Season 1, referenced character death and drug use, past depressed mindset, vague but original child character Tags: @loves0phelia, @nowheredreamer, @beezusvreeland, @lulukings92, @yarrystyleeza Tuna-Tober 2024 Masterlist

Sunlight

It was amazing how much of a difference a few years makes.

If someone had told Michael Kinsella five years ago what his future held, he wouldn’t have believed them. At best he would regarded such predictions as the product of a diseased mind. At worse, a cruel joke.

Because, five years ago today, Michael wasn’t certain that he was going to survive the rest of the year.

Soon or later, if enough people were determined to kill him, one of them would succeed eventually. He’d make a mistake. Or he’d stop fighting. After all, what did he have to live for? His wife was dead. Jaime, the son he had never allowed to be anything other than Uncle Mikey to, was dead. Anna hated him. Everyone watched him with fear or disgust in their eyes. Including his own family at times.

Everyone seemed intent on pulling him back into that quagmire of crime and violence. Just like when he was kid desperately trying to escape that sucking pit, everyone turned their backs. Left him to drown in darkness and pain. Only this time, he couldn’t even numb himself to it with drugs and booze without making the seizures worse.

Not since it had first snapped shut on him at sixteen had the jaws of this trap hurt so bad.

Five years ago, Michael didn’t know that his impulsive decision to keep walking instead turning left toward his cold, empty house would change everything. Or that downpour would have him ducking into a little shop where he’d meet you, the love of his life.

Now he came home to a home filled with warmth and people who loved him. A life where his hands were used to create beauty instead of misery. Or to tickle his child until the little one’s delighted peels of laughter were the only thing he could hear.

Five years ago, Michael was condemned to be a bloody shadow stalking the twilight streets, a bringer of fear and death.

Today, he ran across the sunlight garden armed with a little green water pistol. The only thing he had to fear was Anna nailing him with another water ballon.

Or his toddler, with the giggling assistance of his pretty wife, ambushing him from behind the tree with the garden hose. While he fought for control of the hose, Anna started lobbing balloons at all of them. She had impeccable aim. Not that this saved her from the wrath of her younger sibling.

Needless to say, when it was time to go inside, everyone was thoroughly soaked.

And Michael couldn’t be happier.

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✨🐟PROMPTS FILLED: BEGGING + OVERSTIMULATION🐟✨

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Day 5 - On the Brink

Prompts: 5- Begging + 8 - Overstimulation Character: Frank Castle Pairing: Frank Castle x Reader Word Count: 390 Warnings: Explicit smut, referenced fingering, edging, overstimulation, begging, use of good girl, dirty talk, mild spanking, hints of brat tamer! Frank, p in v sex, unprotected sex, slightly rough sex Tags: @loves0phelia, @nowheredreamer, @beezusvreeland, @yarrystyleeza Tuna-Tober 2024 Masterlist

On the Brink

Almost there . . . you were close, teetering on the brink . . .

Then, as if he could remember your mind, Frank withdrew his fingers from your cunt. No! Not again! You tried to push back, to chase those fingers, but the heavy weight of Frank’s other arm against your back kept you pinned to the counter. No matter how much you struggled, he was too strong. You could do nothing to stop those fingers from leaving. From having your building orgasm shatter into nothing for the third time.

“Frank!” you whined.

“What is it, darlin’?” he asked, his now free hand massaging your upturned ass. “You need something?”

He knew damn well what you needed. That orgasm he had denied you three times! But your angry retort turned into a whimper when his fingers returned to your cunt. The touch was so light that under ordinary circumstances, you would have barely noticed it. But these weren’t ordinary circumstances. Your clit was swollen with need, from being brought to that edge again and again without ever being allowed to topple over it. Even that barely-there touch felt so good, it was almost painful. And almost enough to make you cum. Almost but not quite . . . 

You whimpered even louder when those fingers once again were withdrawn.

“What does my good girl need?” he asked, gripping your hips and pressing himself against you. You whined at the sensation of his hard cock sliding through your soaked folds, then whimpered when the head nudged against your entrance. “Does she need me to fuck her?”

“Yes,” you moaned out. “Fuck me.”

He slapped your ass. “Good girls ask nicely.”

“Frankie!”

Another smack. “Don’t start being a brat. Ask nicely.”

“Please fuck me,” you begged, too desperate to care that you were begging. “Please, I need your cock, please, plea-!”

Your begging cut off in a wail as he pushed himself inside you. All the way in, without a single pause. Then he began to thrust. The pace was fast and hard. His grunts mixed with your moans, almost loud enough to drown out the obscene squelching noise of his cock filling your cunt again and again.

You didn’t even notice the hand leaving your hip. Until its fingers were once against rubbing your clit.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop,” you begged, feeling yourself teetering once more on the brink.

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Begging🔥

this one is STEAMY y'all

Ship: Logan Howlett x f!Reader

Rating: 18+

Wordcount: 801

Warnings: orgasm denial, edging, begging, unprotected PiV, cigars, bruising, dom!logan/sub!reader, biting, bloodplay ish?, kind of mean!logan, dumbification

Series: Leg's Tuna Tober

It was hard to breathe with how close you were. Dangling on the precipice of euphoria, sweet release nipping at your heels from where you clawed at the cliff face. Tendrils slithered around your heels and tugged. Pulling you further and further into the vast pit below.

"Logan, p-please," you whined, voice strained. Sweat dripped down your furrowed brow in thick bullets. The muscles in your thighs screamed from under your overheated skin. Despite your need for release, you inwardly cringed at how needy you sounded.

A cruel chuckle rumbled from the man beneath you. Large hands gripped at your hips, the callused fingers pressing dark bruises into your skin. His arms flexed as he dragged you back and forth along his lap. Clouds of smoke hung heavily around your head in a grey halo.

"I think you can ask nicer than that, doll," Logan sneered around the lit cigar between his teeth. His lips were pulled into a taunting grin.

He'd been edging you for close to an hour now. Dragging you towards the cliff, your nails digging into the dirt, and holding you just over the precipice. Luring you towards your release with the slick slide of your bodies, his cock hitting every ridge inside of you, before he'd pull you off of him and halt your orgasm in its ascent.

You gasped as thick fingers tugged at your hair. Strings of expletives spilled from your kiss-swollen lips, your neck straining, as Logan tugged your head back. His sharp canines left blossoms of crimson along the thin skin under your jaw.

"Ask again. Maybe I'll let you come this time," he huffed against the shell of your ear. He must have put his cigar on the nightstand as he kissed and licked at your skin with reckless abandon.

"Please, Lo. Please let me come," you begged with the sour tinge of desperation. Your swollen clit dragged along the crisp hair at the base of Logan's cock. A breathless moan kicked through your clenched teeth.

He hummed, the sound making his lips buzz against your skin. You shivered as puffs of whiskey-scented breath coasted across your damp skin. The developing bruises along your hips twinged when Logan's grip tightened, "I guess I'll let ya. Just this once."

Breathing was a thing of the past with the new, brutal pace Logan set. Deep, quick, making explosions of color burst in your vision every time he buried himself to the hilt. Shaking fingers scrabbled along his toned chest as you sought for purchase. Frantic in the way you grasped at that cliff's edge.

It wouldn't be long now. Your fingers were pried, one by one, from the edge by Logan's intensity. That deep pit of swirling pleasure beckoned with its wide mouth. Flames licked up your skin in long ribbons of fuckyesdon'tstop with every brush of his cock on your cervix. Your eyes rolled back beneath your lashes.

"Look at ya," Logan rasped, words cutting through the slew of low grunts leaving his chest with every thrust, "All fucked out. I bet there ain't a thought in that pretty head of yours."

The best you could reply with was a high moan. You were one swift push away from toppling over the edge. Just needed that last bit, that last breeze along your bare skin, before you'd plunge into the inky depths below you.

A single glance of Logan's thumb on your clit and you were gone. Mind washed in wave after wave of blessed rapture. Sending a shudder down your spine as your orgasm flooded your veins. Boiling, liquid heat pumped through your blood with every rapid beat of your heart. You convulsed. Body shaking, limbs going numb, head thrown back as your labors were finally rewarded.

"There ya go. There ya fucking go," Logan uttered like a quiet prayer. His pounding into your wet cunt continued in its ferocity as he chased his own release. Groans bit through the air, heated palms pulling you flush to his slick chest, pointed nose burying in your tangled hair.

"L-Logan," you stuttered mindlessly. Your blunt nails dug into the skin across his shoulders. Red divots scraped through dark hair, making Logan bark out a gruff moan.

"Shi-it!" he gasped, hips snapping up into yours. One last thrust and he stilled, chest heaving with every gulped breath, Logan's eyes screwed shut as his orgasm wiped every trace of dominance from his body.

The two of you were a mess of sweaty limbs and traces of both your orgasms. Logan held you to his chest like you'd disintegrate before his eyes. Face nestled in the crook of your neck, arms looped around your waist, cock softening inside your painted walls. You were as limp as a ragdoll in his embrace.

Maybe begging wasn't so bad.

hooo boy i need a cold shower

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work song

pairing: michael kinsella x fem!reader

word count: 1k

tuna-tober prompt: water gun fight

summary: michael kinsella pure domestic bliss fluff

warnings: some suggestive dialogue, kids being kids

tagging: @yarrystyleeza

a/n: i’ve never written for mikey before. he’s my newest obsession. hope i did him some justice. i appreciate any likes/feedback/reblogs. ❣️

You’re spraying on your favorite perfume as you hear the sound of loud melodic laughter coming from the garden. 

There’s a rare heatwave in Ireland and your kids have been cooling off with popsicles and jumping through the sprinkler. 

You glance out your window to see your seven year old daughter and five year old son filling up their water guns. They’re strategizing and whispering about their plan of attack. Your son instead picks the super soaker to fill up. 

You spot Michael tending to your garden, unaware of the attack your mischievous children are planning. Your daughter and son are locked and loaded, trying their hardest to stifle their giggles as they run up on their da. 

They shriek as they both pull their water gun triggers, eliciting a surprised yelp from Michael. In a matter of seconds his thin t-shirt is soaked through and clinging to his chest. You hear him groan about how unfair their ambush was, only to be met with louder belly laughs from your children. 

Michael picks up your young son and playfully lifts him upside down, your little guy is a daredevil and loves to roughhouse with his da. Michael takes your daughter’s small water pistol and shoots it at your son. Your son tries to lap up the water like a puppy. Your daughter hugs Michael’s legs as she tries to take him down onto the soft grassy ground. The moment is such a joy to watch unfold. You knew the horrors of Michael’s past life and the man that he was. 

The man that he is now is honest, decent, and wholesome. Your walls are decorated with family photos of your life together. The highlight reel of the life you built together, brick by brick. The universe brought you both together at exactly the right time that it felt uncanny. He never knew love without manipulation, and your love was steadfast, whole-hearted, and true. The first time you ever made love was better than any high, and he wanted more. You broke down all his walls as you helped pull him out of his life of crime and desperation. With your help and guiding light he started a new humble life. He was able to gain legal access to visitations with Anna. They worked on their relationship and healed old wounds. You were absolutely honored when Michael introduced you to Anna. You could never replace her mother, but she grew to develop an affection for you and asked you for teenage advice. She was quiet and bright, she listened to you in a way Michael would never be able to get through to her. You’d go on shopping dates and grab lunch together, you provided her with a strong female influence. Michael asked Anna’s opinion before he popped the question as he wanted her support and wanted her to be a part of the family he hoped to build with you. She enthusiastically agreed. She wanted you to be a part of her life as well. When Michael asked you to marry him you agreed only on terms that he’d take your last name and give you beautiful children. Without hesitation he was overeager on both accounts. You married quickly and secretly not wishing to draw any attention. It didn’t take long for you to become pregnant with your daughter. 

You see Michael was still joking around with your kids about their stunt. You open the window and yell out, “Karma is a cat, Mikey. Ya need to get ready anyway. Anna will be here soon!” 

Michael acknowledges your remark realizing he’s short on time. He lifts both of the children into his arms and carries them inside and up the stairs so they can get changed out of their wet swimsuits. 

Michael opens your bedroom door and closes it behind him, “I’m soaked”, he says as he rips off his shirt and hangs it up to dry off. 

“Maybe if ya play yer cards right, I’ll be soaked later, too,” you tease as you put on your necklace, watching him advance as you look in the mirror. He’s behind you and he kisses a path from your shoulder up to your neck. His beard and his breath tickling you the whole way as he stops and nips on your earlobe, “Ya know, yer too good to me, pet.” 

Downstairs you hear your door open, it’s Anna shouting “Ma, Da, I’m here!” 

You urge Michael to get ready quickly so you aren’t late for your dinner reservation. He gets ready at rapid speed and looks so effortlessly handsome. You depart from the bedroom and head downstairs where your kids are already harassing their grown up half-sister. She’s asking them about school and they pick out books to read together in the fort they’re planning to build in the living room. Your daughter is showing Anna the blueprint of where the furniture and blankets will be set up. 

“Don’t worry lovebirds I have everything under control, stay out as late as ya want, but remember while car sex isn’t illegal in Ireland, indecent exposure is, so, don’t get caught sickos,” Anna jokes. She’s at university studying law, following in your footsteps. 

“Noted, thank ya for the brilliant legal advice, Anna. Call if ya need anythin’,” you say as you give her a warm hug. 

“Will do, ma,” Anna says back to you with a smile. 

Your kids run up to you and give you both great big hugs and kisses before your departure. You walk hand-in-hand to your car, excited for a much needed date night. 

“Ya hungry, love?” You ask as you pull out of your driveway. 

“Starvin’, but not for anything on the menu,” Michael said with a smirk and a glint in his eyes.

“Oh? And what’re ya hungry for?” 

“Always ya, pet,” Michael sighs as his hand grips your thigh. 

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✨🐟CALCULATING... CALCULATING... 🐟✨

✨🐟PROMPTS FILLED: WATER GUN FIGHT + TICKLING 🐟✨

✨🐟Find the rest of the Tuna-Tober prompts here, and remember to follow to see what other prompt fics these writers might drop this October!🐟 ✨

Day 5 - Sunlight

Prompts: 5 - Water Gun Fight + 17 - Tickling Character: Michael Kinsella Pairing: Michael Kinsella x Reader Word Count: ~400 Warning: Tooth-rotting fluff, spoilers for Kin Season 1, referenced character death and drug use, past depressed mindset, vague but original child character Tags: @loves0phelia, @nowheredreamer, @beezusvreeland, @lulukings92, @yarrystyleeza Tuna-Tober 2024 Masterlist

Sunlight

It was amazing how much of a difference a few years makes.

If someone had told Michael Kinsella five years ago what his future held, he wouldn’t have believed them. At best he would regarded such predictions as the product of a diseased mind. At worse, a cruel joke.

Because, five years ago today, Michael wasn’t certain that he was going to survive the rest of the year.

Soon or later, if enough people were determined to kill him, one of them would succeed eventually. He’d make a mistake. Or he’d stop fighting. After all, what did he have to live for? His wife was dead. Jaime, the son he had never allowed to be anything other than Uncle Mikey to, was dead. Anna hated him. Everyone watched him with fear or disgust in their eyes. Including his own family at times.

Everyone seemed intent on pulling him back into that quagmire of crime and violence. Just like when he was kid desperately trying to escape that sucking pit, everyone turned their backs. Left him to drown in darkness and pain. Only this time, he couldn’t even numb himself to it with drugs and booze without making the seizures worse.

Not since it had first snapped shut on him at sixteen had the jaws of this trap hurt so bad.

Five years ago, Michael didn’t know that his impulsive decision to keep walking instead turning left toward his cold, empty house would change everything. Or that downpour would have him ducking into a little shop where he’d meet you, the love of his life.

Now he came home to a home filled with warmth and people who loved him. A life where his hands were used to create beauty instead of misery. Or to tickle his child until the little one’s delighted peels of laughter were the only thing he could hear.

Five years ago, Michael was condemned to be a bloody shadow stalking the twilight streets, a bringer of fear and death.

Today, he ran across the sunlight garden armed with a little green water pistol. The only thing he had to fear was Anna nailing him with another water ballon.

Or his toddler, with the giggling assistance of his pretty wife, ambushing him from behind the tree with the garden hose. While he fought for control of the hose, Anna started lobbing balloons at all of them. She had impeccable aim. Not that this saved her from the wrath of her younger sibling.

Needless to say, when it was time to go inside, everyone was thoroughly soaked.

And Michael couldn’t be happier.

✨🐟TUNA-TOBER ART DETECTED 🐟✨

✨🐟CALCULATING... CALCULATING... 🐟✨

✨🐟PROMPT FILLED: "Are you blushing?"🐟✨

✨🐟Find the rest of the Tuna-Tober prompts here, and remember to follow to see what other prompt fics these writers might drop this October!🐟 ✨

"Are You Blushing?"

love me some drover :)

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