#but sometimes it hurts when im the only one who reaches out

[angelsheartts]

Hi!! I was wondering if I could request the “hope nobody will catch us!” prompt for Angel dust x gn! reader too? Thank you love!!❤️❤️

✩‧₊˚ I HOPE NOBODY CATCH US !! .

(but i kinda hope they catch us, anyways)

#pairing: angel dust, husk, velvette, lute x gn reader

#cw: suggestive content, +18 mdni, cuss words Imao, getting caught in suggestive situations ig?? adam being adam on lutes part, drunk sex?, kind of only fans on velvettes part ngl.

#notes: just got back from vacation, and i do feel kind of inspirational to write on my blog lmao, so here it is! second part of "i hope nobody catch us". did anyone noticed it’s the lyrics from les - childish gambino?

PART l

˖ ˚ ༘✶ ANGEL DUST .

well, it’s kind of ironic how angel dust would actually care if someone would see you both fucking, but it’s just because he actually wants to have something intimate with you, not just some porn video where you both need to act.

today, valentino had given your partner finally a day off, so you both decided it would be the best to spend it together.

as you both were cuddling in his bed, you somehow started teasing him by confessing how you watched one of his adult videos, and how much it had turned you, so it wasn’t a big surprise how you ended having him on top of you.

"that’s kinky for you to say, but keep going" angel dust said, smirking at you while already having your underwear aside "well, at first i saw how you went down on them, and-" suddenly fat nuggets was on the bed looking at you both.

yeah, so after seeing your kid staring at you both, it really made the atmosphere so not hot.

˖ ˚ ༘✶ HUSK .

i mean, husk, and you do have a pretty regular intimate life cause this man is sooo touch starved, but there’s something different about being drunk and intimate to him.

you knew you both had maybe a few more drinks than usually, but that wouldn’t hurt anyone, right?

wrong, as soon as you started to feel the alcohol doing its thing, you soon started to feel horny too.

but, who could judge you? seeing your bartender boyfriend also with the same flushed face as you was so hot, you somehow ended on top of the counter, while having your boyfriend kiss your neck.

"Oh, for fucks sake, and everyone says im the perverted one?"

yeah, hearing angel dust words made you both stop, but it didn’t make you stopped once you reached your bedroom.

˖ ˚ ༘✶ VELVETTE .

your girlfriend being a famous influencer in hell wasn’t something new to you, but as soon as you both started dating, you didn’t expect her to literally get sent sex toys for you both to try out and recommend or give your review about it.

your girlfriend was doing a live on her sinstagram, when you unexpectedly entered the room in the lingerie she just bought you just a few days ago.

of course, she had to end her livestream by saying a lame excuse to pamper your needs, and what the best way to do that with testing the vibrator who got sent to her for a review.

"velvette, ah- it‘s too much, i‘m going to cum" while sitting on her lap and putting your arms around her neck, you both suddenly heard velvettes phone vibrating like crazy, turns out she never ended her livestream and all hell just saw how needy you were for her.

after really ending the live, let’s just say that the vibrator you used got most-sold-sex-toy of the month.

˖ ˚ ༘✶ LUTE .

your girlfriend is somehow always occupied with something that isn’t you, so you might of have your ways to have her attention.

even though your girlfriend is an exterminator, you both sometimes ended up working together.

so, if dragging her near a closet to have her all for yourself was bad, then what you wanted to do in there with her would be worse.

"(name), it’s not appropriate, and adam is gonna be here anytime soon" lute said, staring at your face with her mask "yeah, yeah you say that every time, but you know how it always ends"

and yes, it was true, your girlfriend knew your true intentions when you dragged her into the closet, but still, she had a kinky side where she liked doing things you weren’t supposed to.

not to mention how hot you looked when you tried to be the dominant one.

"fuck, you're already so wet, huh? is it because you like getting me in trouble or because you want me to punish you?" she said, rubbing her fingers near your clit faster each time, "ah, lute-! keep going" "you’re a fucking mess, answer my questi-"

"DANGERTITS? bullshit, why the fuck didn’t i come sooner? legit thought you didn’t have sex, but you know what? this can get pretty awesome if i joi-“

adam did in fact not join you both, but he did make lute clear that "you both needed the original dick to even come" - adams words.

#hazbin hotel #angel dust x reader #hazbin hotel angel dust #husk x reader #husk hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel velvette #velvette x reader #hazbin hotel lute #lute x reader #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin hotel x reader

[writerwithtoomanyships]

One thing I've tried to learn is that there are people who will never be as connected to poetry as I am. There are people who won't understand it's just as much a part of me as my heartbeat, my bones, my soul, there are people who won't understand it brought me back from the dead, how it killed me and revived me and brought me out of what I've been through bruised and scarred but alive, there are some people who never had the connection to poetry I did, that I still do, because when the were falling poetry wasn't the branch they managed to grab onto for dear life. I forget this a lot.

#rambles #my rambles #the irony is i get hurt a lot bc of this #i say something poetic or show a poem to the wrong person and theyre just confused or just give an uninterested response #ig its why i keep that part of me to myself now #sometimes im scared ill never find someone as connected to poetry as i am #someone who understands my body is more ink than blood #idk #its a weird thought #it feels like everyone who adores poetry as much as I do died decades or centuries ago #do you ever wish you could back in time? to your favorite poet in particular #and just hug them and tell them you feel what they feel that both of you thought no one else ever would and write poetry with them #just be there #knowing youre not the only person in your time period to think in broken poetry #logically i know theres other people like me who probably feel what i feel and who loves poetry to the extent i do #but theyre always out of reach #how do you tell someone when you were 14 you were in a mental hospital and there was a rotting apple outside your room window #and it was the most poetic thing youve ever seen #how do you tell someone when you were even younger than that you saw a dead crow on the side of the road and it broke your heart so much #that you scribbled a poem (still your favorite one) about its stolen flight into one of your many notebooks #so it could be immortal #how do you explain all that to someone #especially someone who has never grabbed hold of a poem til their knuckles turned white bc it was the only thing keeping you alive #putting this in the tags bc i doubt anyone will read it

[alphalesbian]

.

#its like every now and again i am brought down by a terrible loneliness and am forced to remind myself i have in fact more or less #been alone in some sense of the word for more than a few years now theres been such incredible lengths of my lived adulthood where ive #been to deal with everything on my plate entirely by myself for the most part. not to say that i have been like Alone ive kept busy and all #but sometimes i have to remind myself its been years and years since ive had what i would call even some kind of community. and its a #necessary pain to reflect that That is probably why routinely i am completely leveled by some loneliness. this goes of course without sayin #a lot of this is circumstance why i would maybe end up so alone but the reality is im often the only one who gets me im often the only ear #can open up to im often the only one there to catch myself slipping the only one there to take care of myself when im hurting or sick or #tired. and its not that i dont ask for help. something something circumstance where i dont get it from other people #hardly a thing worth stopping myself over but the moments where i have to pick myself up by my own bootstraps for the nth time completely i #the dark by myself its hard not to feel small. looked past. even though im really doing quite okay all things considered. still quite #unfortunately alone and equally isolated and drained of any energy to change this or get out and find community (if i had the space and #the time and the money of course dont forget about the money) #and at the deepest reaches of this feeling i can only see cosmically that this is what im supposed to be doing. to some strange effect that #I Am at least on the right path as tucked away small and hidden and invisible as this may make me feel. bc its never a hard contrast to mak #that if i did have the ability to truly embrace and make a change in that regard would i? would i do it right? could i keep it? where would #that take me? and of course the answer is in this state id just fumble it. and be right back here #when do i get to have that fire in my hands unequivocally where i may finally furiously rid myself of this isolation this loneliness either #forever or long enough to make the change from this lack of connection and community i truly have?

[werecreature-addicted]

this is really specific but imagine being a Farmer and taking in a Minotaur who was abused and used for fighting. And like he’s bred to be a absolute f**cking tank. im talking like 8’6, scars and muscles, massive strong horns, callused hands etc. Because of the abuse and the fighting he was forced Into all his life he hates all humans, but for some reason he doesn’t want to hurt you. And as the months slowly rolls by he starts to warm up to you to the point he lets you touch him…Just for a little bit though

He is always surprised by your kindness. He's known many humans, and none have ever smiled at him like you do. Or ask him how his day has been. What surprises him most is how you always look him in the eyes when you talk to him. You never bark orders while absentmindedly checking your phone or blatantly examining his muscles while asking him to do labor. You always look him in the eye, or at least you look up. Sometimes it's hard to meet his gaze, especially if the sun is in your eyes and you can't quite make out where his head is. But that little act of respect almost always surprises him. It's almost like you see him as an equal.

You always say please and thank you. Even when he's just doing his job, work is the only reason he's here, yet you act like he's done you a huge favor when he does something as simple as refilling the watering cans. He almost never responds either, He just grunts dismissively. That never seems to bother you. No, nothing as shallow as a bad attitude would darken your sunshine.

It's funny. He's never really "liked" something about a human before. He's respected some of them. He's admired the bravery of the ones stupid enough to step in the ring with him. But he actually likes your positive attitude, and how nice you are... and your smile.

He likes the sunshine. On sunny days when there isn't much work left, you'll often find him lying in the middle of the field, enjoying the sun. He doesn't mind talking about his scars if you want to ask. Though, to be honest. He doesn't remember the details of most of them. It's all the same story anyway. A fight. A lance to the side before the fight to make him mad. A beating after he lost a fight. The individual scars all seem to blur together.

You show him a few of your scars, and you seem to remember the stories better. There's a web of scaring over the back of your hand he's noticed before but never asked about. You tell him you were stringing up a barbed wire fence, and the wire cut your knuckles. It bothers him for some reason. You're so sweet, never having been in a fight, and still you have scars. He doesn't like the idea of you being hurt. He tells you if the fence ever needs repairs he'll do it for you.

You're always careful not to touch him. He flinches if you so much as move too fast, and well... he is an animal, a reactive one at that. You're right to be cautious around him. It doesn't hurt his feelings. He respects you for the space you give him. He does have a sneaking suspicion that you want to touch him.

When he tells you about his past, you'll reach for his hand before pulling away and telling him how sorry you are to hear that. Or when he hands you something, you'll brush your fingers against his, even when you're normally so cautious to not let that happen.

Your eyes land on a piece of hay striking out of his messy hair right by his ear. You point it out but, he can't seem to find it himself. He always just barely misses it. Eventually, he crouches and bows his head low enough for you to reach the top of his head.

"Can you uhm, will you get it for me?" he asks shyly. You nod and easily pull out the hay. you pull away but he stops you.

"Wait- just check for anything else stuck in my hair, please?" he asks. you comply, running your fingers through his hair and checking for any more hay.

He still doesn't like being touched, but it's nice to know that your hands are soft and your touch is as kind and gentle as everything else about you. He wonders if touch could feel good and if you'd be willing to show him.

#monster fucker #monster #monster boyfriend #teratophillia #monster imagine #minotaur boyfriend #minotaur x reader #minotaur smut

[mooishbeam]

『♡』 Brittle is Devotion

♡ featuring: ex-husband!toji x f!reader

♡ summary: it's been a while since you've seen your ex-husband, and on a drunken night, buried feelings emerge. wc: 12.2k+ (bruhhh)

♡ cw/tw: mentions of violence/blood, angst/comfort, rekindled feelings, rough sex, missionary, prone bone, full-nelson, overstimulation, cervix fucking, creampie, m/f receiving, throat fucking, sadism/masochism, dom/sub dynamics, squirting, fingering, praise/degredation kink, dumbification, edging, breeding kink, feral toji mmm, pet names (angel, sweetie, baby)

notes: good morning!! hope everyone is having a lovely day, i am so so so so sorry i haven't posted in so long i didnt abandon the account!! i've just been getting it together before the semester starts, and i didnt expect for it to be this long :(( im very tired but ill try to get some stuff out in the next couple of weeks, most likely long fics too. ty so much, and srry for any spelling mistakes. art by ilameys_ on ig! <;3 comments and reblogs are appreciated!

Picking up the pieces after Toji is rough. The divorce was bad enough, and you currently have an aching pain stilling in your chest that makes it hard to take the shallowest breaths. It hammers in the tight confines of your ribcage, and as you sob into your pillow the only relief you desire is sleep, so that you may have temporary solace from the grief wrecking your brain. Your new apartment feels entirely too shallow. There’s no crumby television to use because you were too broke to afford the higher-end appliances, or that creaking mattress you both squeezed into until you could thrift a reasonable headboard. You missed the 60s style tiles painted a horrific green in your kitchen, and the shower that ran out of hot water every other day. It was terrible, downright unlivable for most, but you had each other.  

It hurts more because you love him. So much. Unbearably, to the point where you screamed at the top of your lungs until your throat scratched through angry hot tears, begging him to care for a moment, to give you a reason to stay. Countless times, threatening to walk out if he didn’t endeavor to change. But he never believed you. He thought you’d never leave, because all you had was him.  

And it was true, for years it was. Toji was your dream man; funny and thoughtful. It wasn’t conventional kindness, but it was his. Money didn’t matter—even as you enjoyed a frozen meal on the floor of your empty apartment in the first couple months of moving in with him, you had a smile on your face. Even when your friends and family begged you not to marry him, because they couldn’t stand the sight of him and his arrogant, sometimes aggressive candor, you went on with it anyway. You knew who he really was at heart.  

He was your first everything, you felt if he left, you’d melt to nothing and become a shell of who you once were, because Toji had become an extension of you. You waited for him to get home, had dinner, and slept through the outside commotion of cars and bar fights; his securing arm locked around you, hand cradling your head and legs intertwined. There was no one like him.  

He knew that and got greedy.  

To you, the change was fast, but it’d been spreading like a nasty mold for years. You’d sunk so deep you hadn’t noticed the drought until you reached the bottom. He taught you love, then pulled away; separated himself with additional shifts and pathetic excuses. In turn you punished yourself, showered him with heavier instances of love and endearment, and convinced yourself you needed to try harder. If the sex wasn’t daily, you gave him more. If he didn’t like the food, you learned how to be a better chef. If the house wasn’t clean, you scrubbed top to bottom. Wringing a tired towel, dry of sacrifice. Chasing after him until the soles of your feet blistered. Still, not a smidge of praise or approval came to fruition. When he did—which was rare—those peppered spaces ignited a lasting burn in your heart, keeping withering fire alive.  

Soon, those fleeting kisses and distant pauses weren’t enough, and he didn’t care enough to change. You’d plead and cry at his feet, and he’d scoff and walk past you.  

“We’ll talk about it later”, he’d say more often than not. You didn’t have the confidence to leave, and he consumed himself with whatever underground work he participated in, while you decayed in a declining marriage.  

A grimace on his face, laid back on the couch and looking at you expectingly, as if you would drop to your knees and service him in a heartbeat—but you did exactly that. And you were tired, utterly tired of pulling the emotional and mental leaden baggage on your own. It was heavy, and you were crushing yourself underneath it. You still loved him with every inch of your being, and you’d do it all for him, but it couldn’t be just you anymore. He came home one fateful night to you sitting at the dining table, spotlighted under the stark glass pendant lamp in your dark apartment, dejection that foreshadowed the unfortunate end.  

“Do you love me?” He gazed at your solemn face and scratched his head.  

“Mhm.”  

“Will you change?”  

“No.”  

That’s what you needed to hear. The next week, while he was at work, you gathered your clothes and measly possessions to leave. You sobbed the entire way through, shaking with uncertainty and fear of the unknown—unsure about a future without him. As you slid the dissolution of your marriage on the counter, the sudden reality made you unable to control your knees as you dropped to the floor, and tears spilled down your cheeks and freckled the papers. Luckily, Shoko was there to comfort you and help pack your things. The corners of that confinement spared a gentle, loving memory, and vitriol was left in its wake. Turning back to its hollowness for the last time, you imagined Toji, plopping onto the couch as he’d usually do to watch some late-night television show or going to bed. Like you weren’t there.  

Maybe you never mattered in the first place. 

It’s been a year since, and things are looking up for you. An opportunity surfaced in a field you were interested in applying for, and you miraculously got the job. Moving over a city helped you adjust to your new life—that, and a bottle of dark burning liquor. No matter how much you mindlessly typed at your computer or partied with coworkers, you couldn’t stomach the pit gorging through you, a hole that surfaced everything you’d been burying. 

You’re not prepared to face the forlorn mock of your bleached walls today. As you pry your eyes open, the flickering shimmers through your sheer curtain cast across unattended sheets, soothed by stuffed animals strung along the comforter. You reach for something that isn’t there in your groggy state—a gentle reminder that your morning would be just as empty as yesterday. 

Today isn’t any other; it’s what would’ve been your five-year anniversary. One year, of new beginnings and new friends. A year of solitude.  

You don’t bother slinking out of bed. The accumulation of tasks awaiting you is more daunting than the actual execution. In an attempt to regain control of your life, you established a healthy routine. It entails waking up at early hours to exercise and work on projects and meal prep, and ending your night early with extra exercise and skincare. It was amazing at first and quelled your sadness. What they didn’t inform you of, was the spectacle; the appearance and perception of perfection, and not the struggles or gradual burnout of maintaining that lifestyle. When the distraction died down, and work and social activities became a congealed, monstrous chore, you quickly resented those limp salads and vomit-inducing runs. 

You expel a loaded sigh and pull the covers over. 

The vibration of the phone buzzing on your stomach peels your eyes awake. You allow it to pass, but it rings again. From a frustrated exhale, your languid hands muster the strength to flip to its notification; Shoko’s calling.  

“Hello?” you mutter, fatigue caught in your throat. 

“Fuck, you sound like hell!” she replies. The repetitive clack of office keyboards and analog phones being slammed by stressed out coworkers distorts the background. Thank God I used my paid time off. 

“I love you too, Shoko.” 

“Sorry, didn’t mean it like that…you ok?” It’s much sweeter. Shoko has always been a supportive friend, perhaps bordering on too supportive. You cherish her motherly concern, and rather vulgar honesty. 

“Mm, I’ll manage.” 

“I can come over after work.” You flip onto your back, soaking in the mild sunlight. 

“S’alright, I’m sure you’re busy, and I might sleep in. Wallow in sorrow for a few hours.” Shoko drawls a dramatic groan and creaks back in her chair. 

“Nothing good comes out of feeling sorry for yourself. Go to the club or somethin’.” 

“‘N how’s that gonna help?” 

“Better than whining at home. Wear something sexy, look pretty and get laid. That’s how I get over shit.” 

“Mm, right. I don’t know if that’s gonna work” you giggle, toying with one of the ears on your stuffed bunny. 

“Oh yeah, forgot you’re the born-again Virgin Mary now. You know… if you want to get over ‘him’, you have to take the first step.” You can envision her air quotations. She treats his name as forbidden speech, and regularly refers to it in conversation as “he who shall not be named.” 

“Ugh, mother Shoko’s speaking.” 

“Listen, it may or may not work. Don’t knock it ‘till you try it is all I’m saying.” 

“Yea? Well, if he has a tiny dick, I’m blaming you.” 

“Nothing wrong with shellfish.” 

The last curl falls in place, and you follow it up with copious amounts of hairspray. Fanning your bathroom after a drawn out coughing fit, you get a good look at your figure in the mirror. The backless lacy black dress you’re wearing hugs you in all the right places and guides the detail sitting tight under your butt. It’s undoubtedly revealing, coupled with strappy heels and a dark cat eye.  

You walk past your vanity and pause at the messy jewelry box, riddled with remnants of Toji’s adoration. Sparkling varieties of heavy necklaces and rings and precious diamonds; ninety percent of your jewels were because of him. You’d asked if he stole the items he gifted you, and he’d come up with an elaborate sarcastic story about a jewelry heist he carried out, and how appreciative you should be. Buried underneath rested your engagement ring, a sparkling cut that crowded your entire finger. You couldn’t bring yourself to pawn it, opting to occasionally revel in its beauty before shoving it in a far corner with your feelings. 

Shoko wasn’t lying about how sexy you’d feel dolled up, and it shows in your confidence as you modeled around your bedroom, striking poses to no one. Your plushies weren’t very appreciative of the full-blown fashion show, but you hadn’t felt like this for a long while. Maybe it was about time you entered the dating scene. 

The entrance to Infinity appears as a run-down tacky club from an outdated era, and it’s easy to miss the multicolored flashes dotting the black tinted glass on each side. A few steps past the black and white checkered vestibule, and you get to experience the scale of a roaring, clashing club. It’s not half as lively on the outside; sweat dripping under twinkling lights of multicolor, bodies colliding and moving to the melodic sway of erratic music vibrating through the floor, freely drowning and expelling their insecurities, deepest struggles. It’s both welcoming and hopeless.  

A woman balances her shot glass as she gyrates against a stranger while another stumbles off the dance floor in a drunken stupor. The heat and screams are overstimulating, circulating around you. You consider withdrawing, especially since you held some reservations about partying solo. However, this is what you need, to get comfortable with doing things by yourself. 

So you down shots, two, three, burning of different varieties that heighten your body temperature and nerve. You throw back a mix of dark and white liquor, a dangerous combo that dizzies your vision and runs up an unfathomable tab you can't afford. The strangers accompanying you at the counter encourage you. No rational thoughts, let alone decision making, register in your alcohol-sodden mind. Like strings being fielded by a puppeteer, your legs move on their own to the dance floor.  

It’s hot. The blurring iridescence bends to produce shapes that make your fuzzy brain giggle for some odd reason. You’re moving in slow motion, and the world’s continuing at max speed. You don’t care either way. You’re light on your feet, and the music goads you to dance. Spinning, hands tangled between your locks traveling down the curve of your thighs, hearing the lyrics inside and out as if no one is watching. 

You dance with women and men alike, anyone willing to help you overlook your heartache. It’s floaty, an airiness that spills sober thoughts from cotton mouth and makes every touch electrifying. It’s in your legs and arms, your restless feet and fingers. You laugh hysterically, incomprehensibly, and switch to sadness in a heartbeat. These aimless bodies, just as lost as you, drinking to your despair. Was it worth the abyss tomorrow held, or the agonizing headache as a result? 

After those dances, mainly flailing efforts at rhythm, your head is barreling. You’re suffering from a heavy case of vertigo at the slightest turn, and your stomach’s riddled with knots. It hits you like a car crash, and you strive to stabilize yourself as bile fills your throat, cringing when you reluctantly swallow. A disorienting slurry of words and faces ask you things you cannot hear or see, and it suddenly becomes too real. 

In few sparse moments, your life plays before you in stop motion. From heaving over the toilet while a lady with long nails held your hair back, to knocking the drink out of someone’s hand on your way out. Now you’re walking on one heel and holding the other. You might’ve popped a nail if not for security holding the door open. They attempt to flag you, but you reply with a curt slurred “‘M fine.”  

You push your knees together, sitting on the corner of a curb. This isn’t how you expected the night to end. It’s pitch black beside street lamps, and awfully quiet in contrast to inside. Shivers ripple through you despite the persistent warmth pooling in your ears. You lean on a street lamp in the calm cold as people leave, probably running to participate in intimate affairs with their acquaintances. The gentle hand on a waist or shoulder forms a subconscious smile; young, passionate love blooming on a random night. 

And you burst into tears.  

Ugly tears streaming down your face in blobs that don’t stop no matter how much you wipe them, followed by deep sniffles. They smear across your phone while you search for a taxi app, and your cloudy eyes deceive you. 

You jolt when a hand brushes against your arm and turn to meet the foggy face of a man with stubble. You wipe your wet cheeks and lean further from him.  

“Hey baby, you alright?” The pet-name makes you shudder. You definitely don’t know him, and at this point there’s no one outside. 

“Wh’re you?” you garble. 

“Kusakabe. Where ya off to?” 

“Waitin’ for uh frien’” Your eyelids waver, failing to stay alert under the frightening stare burning holes through your skull.  

“A friend, huh…you gotta man?” he asks, stepping closer to you. You back away to the side of the light. 

“Go away.” You’re definitive, but he laughs as if it were the ridiculous request of a child. 

“I like that dress. You look hot.” His hand drags along the strap of your dress, but you nudge his hand.  

“Mm’get off me. N’don’ need your help.” He scoffs with offense, and as you go to leave, he grabs your wrist firm. 

“Relax. Tryna go home with someone tonight?” You’re trembling, tugging with as much force as you can muster in your punch-drunk state, but he doesn’t budge. 

“L’ve me alone” 

“Don’t be like that, baby. I’ll call a cab-” 

Whack! Your wrist goes limp, and the crunch and crack of flesh hitting concrete echoes. You sluggishly pan to him, knocked out cold beyond the spotlight. The influence takes you, however, and you nearly find yourself joining him on the sidewalk. Before you can fall, a broad, rough hand supports your lower back. Their deep gritty tone is inches away from you. 

“C’mon, sweetheart.” 

You rise from an unusually sweet slumber. The light shines through your eyelids, unavoidable even when you maneuver the velvety warm blanket for shade. Your eyeballs shift across thin skin being prodded by intrusive sun, and as they crack open, you catch a glimpse of the glass coffee table in front of you, arranged with perfection resembling a furniture showroom. You smile to yourself half-asleep, wondering when you bought such an expensive item, and how an abundance of sunlight made its way through your average window. You’re drifting off anew. 

Then, you shoot up. 

You start to really take in the surroundings, and when you do, a pit drops in your stomach. An ultra-wide flat screen television faces you, decorated with plants on either side. Craning your neck, the long windows of this penthouse line the adjacent wall up to the ceiling, which hangs a glass geometric chandelier. This isn’t your bedroom, nor your apartment.  

 Instantly you switch to sitting, and recoil just as fast. Pain envelops the wrinkles of your brain, and you wince from abrupt tension. You palm the bridge of your nose. 

“Fuck” you whisper. Last night replays in your head through staccato bursts, though you couldn’t remember the minutes before you passed out. Embarrassment creeps onto your ears at the freak show you performed hours ago. You’d made a fool of yourself, puked and tripped like a sloppy drunk college girl. You can’t be more ashamed, and to top it off, you’re in the house of a stranger you possibly slept with. You look down from the smooth sectional sofa, and notice your heels arranged neatly beneath you with your phone and bag. At the very least, the man you engaged with seems to be accommodating.  

You scurry to put your heels on, and hopefully sneak out in silence before you face further humiliation. Something about this blanket smells familiar; musk and oakmoss and man, grazing across your nose like the aroma in an intimate embrace, the earthy dew of calm before a storm, a trace only you can understand. 

“Finally up?”  

It’s that gravelly smoky voice you lived in for five years, and some before that. The voice you fell asleep to, mumbling nonsense in your ear through boorish snores. The voice you fell in love with, easily saying “I do” when you wedded at the courthouse. The voice you resent, saying nothing at all when you cried. 

You look behind you, and there he is, walking down the staircase. He’s wearing boxers, settled under the tufts of hair running down his belly button. His rugged muscles peek out from the untied black robe dangling to his strong calves. His hair grew out a bit since you’ve last seen him, shaggy bedhead running across his eyes and covering his ears. 

He smirks the same, though, sweet and soft for such a dour man, like nothing ever happened, approaching you while you sneer at the cruel joke bestowed upon you. 

“Toji.” You haven’t said it in forever. It’s abashing how quickly your regularly tense shoulders relax in his proximity.  

“How ya feelin’? Hope the couch was comfortable enough, figured you wouldn’t wanna sleep in my bed” he says, rubbing the back of his neck as he stretched his sturdy back.  

“It was fine.”  

There's an awkward quiet afterwards. The air’s thick, glass straining under pressure, threatening to give way at the smallest disturbance. 

Toji clears his throat. “So, um...you need somethin’? Water?” 

“No” you bark, folding your arms across your chest. You can’t look at him, not without feeling enraged. You’re the afterthought, the chaser, rushing after a man who wouldn’t dare look twice. “How’d you even know I was there?” 

“Coincidence” he replies, and you scoff. He couldn’t get away with lying to you; playing games with moves you’ve lost to countless times. 

“Like hell it was a coincidence. I’m in a completely different city now, what were you doing there?” You have to physically bite back the words begging to spill from your mouth as his head wanders in thought, possibly concocting another fabrication. 

“Had business” 

“Oh, I’m supposed to believe the man who hates keeping a job had ‘business’. Okay.” You don’t acknowledge the extravagance of the apartment he must be paying for monthly. That, or a chain of illegal activities—whatever assumption suited your irritation in the moment. 

“Well, ya wouldn’t believe me no matter what I said, anyway” he chides. You’re a shaken bottle ready to explode, and his nonchalant demeanor only eggs you on. Toji’s perpetually dismissive, looking down on you like a pitiful puppy. 

“Because you’re always full of shit” you snap. He exerts a loaded sigh and pinches the bridge of his nose, as if he had any right to be tired of the situation. 

“’M not lyin’.” 

“Right.” You observe your surroundings more. It’s too opulent, pricey vases you wouldn’t expect from the ex-husband that once thought hanging jackets in the doorway was “decoration.” Definitely not fit for a single guy. You’re separated, and you know it's not your responsibility to keep tabs on his sex life, but that caviling thought won’t stop taunting you. How could he get over it so soon?  

“If you were just gonna bring me back to your fuck pad, I should’ve slept on the curb. Who knows how many girls you’ve had here.” 

He gets eye-level, sitting on the coffee table with his elbows resting on his knees and his hands clasped together like a drained salaryman, “What the fuck is wrong with you?” 

“What’s wrong with me? You can’t be serious. Like you never do anything wrong, like everything that’s happened until now is somehow my fault and you did nothing, nothing, to contribute to the bullshit. Stop acting like a fucking victim.” 

“Little lady, you got shitfaced, and some guy was tryna take your drunk ass home. You’re lucky you went home with me instead.” 

“I could’ve handled it; I don’t need you for anything-” 

“You could barely keep your eyes op-” 

“I would’ve handled it! Just like I handle everything else. Alone. Every time. It gets done, I’m not incompetent, Toji!” 

You could hear a pin drop in the stillness. Those forested eyes are gazing into your soul. It’s said and done, and you’ve got it off your chest, yet it hurts like a freshly sliced gash. The arguing doesn’t change, married or not. It sucks when you shout, uncontrollable like a blazing fire, only to be snubbed out by his calm, condescending tone. 

“...I know.”  

You can’t take it, it’s stifling being near him. Wounds loosely covered by band aids seem to peel at his presence, and you’re stuck at his mercy again. You can’t give him the satisfaction of crying in addition to the drunk, poor decisions you made, hardening your expression as you fumble for your phone. 

“Take me home” you demand. Toji stands with an exaggerated stretch on both arms, painfully slow. Before you can hurl your phone at him from the dramatics, he looks down on you with that intoxicating gaze. 

“Are ya hungry?” 

You furrow your brows, and hastily put on the other shoe. Turning on your heels, you go to leave, and are immediately stopped by Toji's calloused hand holding your wrist. You don’t watch, but his palm is gentle. You could smoothly slip out and exit his apartment, forget this engagement and continue a peaceful, isolated life. You’d move on eventually—perhaps to bigger, happier jobs and romances. 

 Despite that hopeful outcome, you remain.  

“I don’t wanna eat. If you don’t take me home, I'll call a cab.” 

“I’ll take ya home, just...look, I know you’re hungry, and I’m down to eat at a diner down the block. Don’t worry about a thing, I’ll pay for it.” Toji isn’t known for being docile, but with his curved posture almost leaning into you and dejection in his eyes, you swear he’s searching for pity. 

“I said I’m not-,” The untimely arrival of your dinning, rumbling stomach cuts off any excuse. A corner of his mouth upturns, and your face contorts to scorned pride. 

“...Fine. Let’s make it quick.” 

“Great. Can’t have ya walkin’ around like that, though.” He pans to your chest. You haven’t thought to give your outfit a glance, but when you do, your eyes grow wide. The entirety of your conversation with Toji, your chest was spilling out the dress, and now part of your areolas is exposed. You cover up the top, but he stares with an x-ray's invasiveness. You reprimand him, swatting his chest; 

“Pervert!” 

There was an added benefit to being around Toji; the way people cleared a path for him and treated him with frightened kindness, afraid that pissing off the physically intimidating man would land them a one-way ticket to the nearest hospital.  

They weren’t exactly wrong, and you have a satisfied pep in your step as people scoot aside. He strides in front of you to get the door, and you mutter a small “thank you.”  

Sweet fluffy pancakes and charred grills mingle with faint notes of bleach. At least he knew better than to take you to a fancy establishment, especially since you were wearing a baggy t-shirt from him, and basketball shorts you had to tie around the waistband. His massive slides had you flopping across the dining aisle as you got to your booth. He’s not particularly dressed either, wearing matching shorts and a compression top. 

It’s hard not to perceive the way women ogle him, drooling at the way his biceps flex when he raises the menu, and his chiseled jaw tensing while he ponders the food options. It was a notable problem when you were married. They’d glare at you, shower him with compliments in front of you, and you’d shrink yourself. Occasionally the waiter would pretend you don’t exist as she swayed her hips at every little thing Toji said. If they want him, they can have him. It’s not your business, right? It’s no different with this waiter, twirling the curl of her hair as Toji reiterates his order, shifting from one leg to the other to highlight her curves.  

Not my business. You're nauseous.  

Not my business. Your fists clench underneath the table. 

Your head’s swimming in thoughts, uncertainty crashing down like a wave upon your increasingly loud intrusions. You drown within yourself, until you’re pulled out by a thumb travelling up your hand, and other fingers clasping around it. 

“Watcha wanna order, angel?” You regain composure, and when you blink, Toji is waiting for you. The waiter side-eyes you and the joining of your hands.  

“You lost? Take her order” he spat. 

The food's steaming hot and fresh, and you salivate at the plate in front of you. Toji snatches your bacon before you can, and you begrudgingly watch as he breaks the strips into two pieces, the way you like it. He winks, and you groan. You coat your strawberry pancakes with maple syrup, trespassing territory around the scrambled eggs and bacon, and he laughs across from you. 

“What’s funny?” 

“Never stopped drowning your breakfast in syrup” he ribs. You pout and swirl your bacon, “It makes it taste better.” 

Soon, food in your belly aided your dialogue, and the old banter returned; an easygoing flow, similar to a lifelong friend you hadn’t spoken to in decades. You giggle between bites and gossip about mutual rumors. 

"What you been doin’ since..." Toji trails off, falling short of “divorce”—a word he never wants to say. 

"Shoko recommended me to her boss, so I'm working uptown now. Pay's okay, nothing to write home about."  

"S'good. Livin comfortable?"  

"As comfortable as I can be"  

"Real humble. Guessin’ it's better than before" he jokes, though you sense a displace in his bearing at the nervous grin he flashes. You reach onto to his side and grab one of the grapes off his plate. You pop one in your mouth, "So, what drug ring got you that house?"  

"The cartel. Good vacation time, too" he jests. 

"Nice. at least it's not that shitty garbage gig you had for a while."  

"It did pay well."  

"Yeah? Couldn't get rid of the rotten milk and vomit smell for weeks after. Remember I made you shower at Geto’s apartment?" 

“Heh, yeah, he was fuckin’ pissed” he laughs, stealing a piece of sugary bacon from the syrup pool. "I'm a CEO, run a company downtown."  

"Ooo, look at you. Can't be little if it did this much for you" you say as you gesture at the empty dishes on the table. Restaurants were a luxury in your household. 

"I guess. I had a vision, and some people believed in me”, he pokes at the leftover blueberries, “I finally made it happen, that counts for something, right?"  

You pick another off his plate, smile stretching, "You're a natural born leader. People will follow you regardless, even if it's not the right choice."  

His eyebrows raised in surprise, "That's the first good thing you said about me today."  

"Don't get used to it." 

You wait for Toji to retrieve his car after walking back to his apartment. You’re awestruck in many ways; he paid for the whole meal with a black card and showed undying manners. He bowed to your requests. You’re smarter than this, though. This is his opportunity to get on your good side, and he’s showing the best version of himself. However, it fills your heart with want—like the initial dating phase, those butterfly stricken, heart-numbing, sappy gestures that made you melt.  

He wraps around the car to open your door, and you plant yourself in the sleek beige interior. Your eyes flick to the veins in his forearm straining as he steers, his deadpan focused expression and the composed R&B music low in the background. It starts to drizzle, and raindrops plink the car roof. 

You feel complete; And that alone is a dreadful reality. 

The scar on his lip twists to a smile, “Did’ya like the food?”  

You turn your nose up, “it was satisfactory.” He snickers, and navigates to the street your apartment is on. “Shit, I gotta give you your clothes back.” 

“Forget it, bring it when you get the chance.” Chance. He expected to see you again. You hang your head as he approaches the complex. You didn’t want today to end, but this is it. You’ll leave this car and go your separate ways. This is how it should be.  

You place an earnest hand on his shoulder and cast a smile. The corners quiver and your first syllable wobbles, but you finally speak, “I’m proud of you, Toji. I mean it. You’re going to do great things, and I’m always rooting for you.”  

He swallows stiff, and suddenly he’s sickly pale. Something within you is pleased at that reaction; if he wants redemption, he should beg and drop to his knees and crawl for forgiveness, he should lock himself up for your eyes only and cut off everyone else in his life. You’re walking away a second time, rightfully so, but you struggle to decipher what you want in this moment. He palms your hand, staring at you, “I’m all for praise, but tell me when we meet again” 

“Toji, there can’t be a next- “ 

“Give me your phone.” 

“Huh?” His urgency throws you off guard, “Don’t think, just give me your phone.” It’s impossible to kill the complicated slurry that is your mind, and a new bundle of thoughts emerges from his request, but for a heartbeat, you allow yourself to wander. Pitter patter and muted music, heated seats, the cologne radiating from Toji—all that exists. 

 You moved on instinct, and now your phone is in Toji’s hands. He's adding his contact information. He hands it back to you, fingers brushing against your soft skin.  

“I won’t text or call you. ’S there whenever you need me. Move at your own pace and call me when you’re ready.” With that, you exit his car. No hug or gratitude, skipping goodbyes as you rush out the car. It’s bittersweet when he pulls off, and you’re left with the ghost of him.  

The familiar click of your convoluted keys in the apartment door could bring you to tears. You’ve officially reverted to your mundane, boring lifestyle. The walls look duller today. 

You curiously click on his contact, and giggle at the name he assigned himself: 

dumbass ex 

tick, tock, tick, tock 

The blue light beaming through your office computer is an eyesore, but you have little say in the matter. There's an upcoming deadline for these reports, you can’t waste precious skill complaining about circumstances out of your control. It’s tiresome, and you rove to the cobweb missing a string in the corner of the room, or the single drop of water roaming outside those wide sterile windows. The balls of your feet carry your flats as you absentmindedly push a pen against your lip. 

Your concentration has been out of commission since meeting Toji. He kept his word and hadn’t called you whatsoever. A month passed, and still nothing. Be glad, you told yourself, get your goals back on track. Your exercises get vicious, from jogging to a full sprint, hoping that those buckets of sweat will shed off the extra weight of Toji’s abidance. The fruit bowl on your break offends you with mocking displays of strawberries and grapes. You’ve pondered deleting the contact entirely to repel enticement, but you can’t do it. It’s painfully clear that you miss him. 

He’s horrible, callous and selfish. Of course, Toji had a way of showing up at your lowest to fill your head with empty promises and gestures of affection, that charming grin shooting daggers at your weakness. In his gaze, you’re defenseless, and in his arms, you’re exposed.  

Albeit late, a pestering thought carves into you, unfortunate and disgraceful to the healing you strive to accomplish; message Toji. 

A set of wheels rolls above the carpet, and you see Shoko, lifeless arms hanging beyond the armrests. The bags under her eyes signify stress from finalizing late papers.  

“Unnghhhh, (Y/N), I can’t do it” she laments, drooping her head to the side. You pat the top of her hair, “I believe in you.” 

“What are you working on?” She quirks a brow, and you stare at the screen with her. You’ve typed an entire page of straight gibberish. “I’m getting distracted too...” 

“Let’s quit and tell her to shove it.” 

“You know I can’t do that” you fuss as you backspace the document. “Mm, me neither. What’s got you zoned out?” 

“Nothing in particular.” You’re afraid to tell Shoko of your rendezvous, she might become volcanic and fire magma at the sound of any “-oji”. 

“I know it’s not nothing. New boyfriend, hm?” 

“S-something like that” you chuckle. She shapes an ‘O’ with her mouth, and wheels closer. Her bangs touch your eyebrows, and she rests her chin on her hand. Her usual dead eyes have a malicious twinkle in them. 

“What’s he like? Is he tall or short?” she gasps, “did you meet him at the club? I told you it was a good idea; I really am the best advisor.” 

You sigh, “It’s no one new.” 

“Ooo, an old flame. Spicy. What’s his name?” You turn slowly, a nervous bite on your lips. She studies your face, and slowly hers drops. 

“Do not fucking say it.” 

“Shokoooo” you whine, searching for sympathy from her. Instead of that, your body is shaken violently as she whisper-yells, “Are you kidding? Get a grip! What’s gotten into you, you were fine!” 

“But I wasn’t. It sucks, I feel lonely all the time.” 

“You felt lonelier with him than without him!” 

“I know, but...” You ball your lips in with furrowed brows, and she holds her breath. 

“I wanna go see him” you squeak. Instantly, she squishes your cheeks with both hands to hold you in place. 

“Absolutely. Fucking. Not.” 

At home, you pace back and forth in front of the phone resting on your bed. Toji’s contact is open, and nausea is brewing in your stomach. You’re giddy and ill, working up the courage to press “call”. You really should be practicing Shoko’s advice, but you’ve long surpassed common sense. You leave and come back, spying on it from a distance. Eventually, you forgo the theatrics and grab the phone to hit the messenger app. 

Three dots vanish and resurface. You can’t get it right:

'Hey stranger I got custody of ur clothes rn' 

'Hey haha I missed u can I come over?' 

'Yo what’s up? Still have ur clothes do u want them?' 

'I’m coming to give u ur stinky clothes' 

This shouldn’t be complicated, and you don’t usually perform the process of elimination for simple responses, but it’s Toji. You’re scrambling and overanalyzing, reiterating your choice of slang only to delete it all over again. You settle for a simple message. “Hey Toji, I wanted to return your clothes. Let me know when you’re available. Thanks”  

Once you hit send, you run a marathon around your bedroom, tippy tapping to expel your anticipation. The churning grows as seconds pass, and so does your doubt. You tiptoe to the phone as if a displaced floorboard would activate the alarm. You’re about to tap the screen, and then your ringtone plays.   

Oh god. 

You take a deep breath and swipe right on the faceless profile picture labeled “dumbass ex”.  

“…Hello?” 

“Hey, angel.” You avoid a dull pound in your chest at the memorable pet name. “So, um-“  

“I wanna see you. I’m available now, and I’ll be home by the time you get here” he states, direct and confident. His conviction validates yours, you bend to his direction. 

“Okay then. I’ll start getting ready.” 

“I’ll send a cab to your address. See you soon.” When he hangs up, you dive into the pile of plushies. Squeezing them for emotional support, kicking your feet in the air as you scream into your ruffled pillows like a girl’s first crush. You have a long night ahead of you. 

You access Toji’s building. He must’ve notified them you were coming, as the doors were open upon arrival, and a bellhop was sent to guide you to his floor. You’re standing outside of it, clothes and a bottle of champagne in hand. Your stretchy maxi dress clings to your figure, complimenting the juicy shade of lip gloss you’re wearing—the shade he loved most on you during your marriage. You ring the bell, and it doesn’t take long before he opens the door. The scene you’re exposed to swells heat between your legs. 

Toji has nothing but a towel shimmied low on his hips, v-line adorned with veins and biceps corded with muscle. He’s trimmed his hair since your last encounter, and it’s dripping wet along with the rest of his soaked body. You’ve interrupted his shower apparently, but he didn’t hesitate to rush to the door, water cascading from the raven veil, sluicing down his sculpted chest. He had to have done this on purpose, but you weren’t complaining at this point; he looked damn good doing it. You can’t disengage from the beads branching amid his pecs and through his happy trail. God, you wish you were water personified right no- 

“You’re staring, dollface” he teases with a smirk. Your eyes snap to his, and you remember to breathe. You clumsily hold up the liquid peace offering, “Brought a little something.” 

“Thanks. Make yourself comfortable, I’m gonna get dressed.” You nod, and he marches upstairs. You don’t need comfortability; you need to be in and out of here before you do something you’ll regret.  

But...is that cedarwood and vanilla? The interior gives off romantic energy at night, attractive dim lighting throughout and dull flickering pops of his fireplace in the living room. You find the source of that heavenly scent sitting on his kitchen island, and awkwardly place the bottle down. You don’t know what to do with yourself, more so you don’t know what to say. It’s hard to recite a script when things aren’t going according to plan. Did you want to apologize, or force him to apologize? Maybe you should’ve cursed him out, rehashed his asshole behavior from the past until he drowned in guilt. You want to kiss and slap him, cry in his arms until your voice gives out and disappear all at once.  

There’s a beautiful clear vase in the center, crammed with your favorite flowers, and your fingers dance across the petals. “You like ‘em?” he asks stepping into the kitchen. His hair’s still saturated, but he’s sporting grey sweatpants and a black ribbed tank top. “They’re very pretty.” 

“They’re for you.” 

You switch between his playful expression and the burst of colors, “You don’t have to do that.” The bouquet evokes recollections of heated arguments—anytime he’d angered you to tears, and you slammed that bedroom door in his face, you always woke up to similar flowers on the floor. They were cheap, but it meant more than money; because despite the fights and disagreements, it let you know that he’d love you regardless. 

“I wanted to. As thanks for bringing my clothes.” He’s pacing towards you, and you’re bound to the floor like melting wax. His gaze is captivating, and you’re entranced by the verdurous ardor that won’t deter from you. 

“Thank you”, you say as he looms above you and inspects the scripture on the pale bottle. His large thumb blocks the intricate lettering he’s trying to read, “I should be thanking you. Didn’t think you’d ever message me.” 

You can feel the body heat radiating off him, the airy words as he mouths the contents. His eyebrows furrow to follow his focus, while you lose yours.   

“I-I should probably get going-” Without delay, Toji blocks your side with an iron grip on the island, trapping you in the confines of his broad wingspan. 

“Leaving so soon? You got plans tonight?” Saying and doing are completely different stories, and from the way your feet haven’t moved, you aren’t in a rush to go anywhere. 

“Not really, but I worked today and I’m kinda tired-”  

“Then what better way to unwind than with a bottle? I can’t drink this by myself, might as well keep me company” he suggests, persuasion to a greater extent when your lower back hits the bar. A drink or two couldn’t hurt, right? 

“I guess I can stay for a few minutes.” Toji flashes a victorious toothy grin and retrieves cups from the sink cupboard. He gives you a rounded glass, and his muscles flex below candlelight as he maneuvers the cork at an angle. 

“Let’s crack this open” he says, popping the cap off and pouring a substantial amount of golden fizz into both cups. 

Toji raises his glass, “A toast.” 

You tilt your head but raise yours as well. “To what?” 

“Us.”  

Us is a funny thing—with enough effort, it becomes you and I just as quickly as it formed. You don’t know if you’re willing to accept the responsibility of eternity. The devastation of commitment could damage you forever. There’s no us, but there’s you and him. So, you clink your glass, “To us,” and his eyes never leave yours as he takes a swig. It lasts a lifetime among longing breaths and unsaid words. 

He brings the champagne to the living room, “I’ll turn on a movie. You know that cheesy romcom shit you used to watch? They made a sequel.” You fall flat on containing your excitement. He grabs the remote and lays back with his thighs spread apart.  

Toji pats the couch, “Come sit. Don’t worry, I won’t bite.” You hardly believe that, but you remove your heels and relax upon overstuffed cushions. You opt to sit farther on the couch, and there’s an annoyed twitch on his lip at your display of boundaries. Nevertheless, he starts the movie. 

Toji’s not particularly sneaky. He announces multiple bathroom breaks, returning to a spot on the couch that’s inconspicuous, but inching closer to you. The intent becomes clear when the ghost of his shoulder knocks against you, spreading his thighs wider to brush against the softness huddled into your snug figure. You’re half paying attention to the cliché performance, and half observing Toji. It’s hard not to smile when he behaves like a disobedient dog obligated to sit.  

It’s cute that he arced himself to be eye-level with you. His tank rode up to expose his lower abdomen, and he adjusts himself in his sweats, jaw occasionally clenching. It could be the drink talking, perhaps you’ve had too many.  

The movie ends, and you exhale a sigh of relief. “I forgot how corny this shit is.” 

Toji shrugs, “I didn’t think it was too bad.” 

“No way, you actually liked it?” you gasp. He huffs out his nose, smiling, “People change.” 

“I’m shocked” you quip. Dusk creeps into a descending sunset, and you steal a glance at your phone screen. Bright as day, a notification from Shoko emerges. “NO TOJI >:(" 

You’re stumped thinking of a reply, one that doesn’t compromise your less-than-ideal situation, when Toji puts his hand over the screen. “Hope I’m not gettin’ ya in trouble.” 

“Like you care.” He chuckles and slides it to the far side of the couch. “You’re right. Let’s watch another.” 

This next movie's decent; a flat racing plot with excessive sequels. He unleashes an exaggerated yawn, extending his triceps to land behind your head. You quirk a brow at him, and he plays innocent. “You look cold” he says. You don’t care as much as you pretend. His pads trace the shell of your burning ear down to the lobe, to fine hair at the end of your neck. His rough hand massages the back of your head, and you lull to his chest. Be it the champagne or his actions, it’s too hot for comfort. Clamping your thighs shut spurs the intensity. His other hand languidly tests the limits of your skin, gossamer touches from your knee to your thigh. It's asking, and when you don’t object, he invites the entire palm to your knee, rubbing delicately. He brings it to your upper thigh, and retreats to the outside, getting dangerously close to your rear. The worst part is it’s not that bad. It’s intimate. Warm. 

Loving. 

It takes you a minute to comprehend you’re tearing up, but Toji recognizes that hushed sniffle. Airy and choked, quiet as to not be a burden. He circles a hand around your waist and pulls you impossibly close. He tilts your chin to his gaze, soft and deceptively gentle when he asks. 

“What’s wrong pretty, hm?” You say nothing through the constrains in your throat, streaking the tears that fall faster than you can wipe them. This man alone can reduce you to mush with a wave of his hand. He bares your rawest state and sculpts you back together with such purity, such devotion, that you’d plead for him to sink his clay sodden fingers into your nothing, and make you everything. 

“Tell me, and I’ll fix it.” 

You say just above a whisper, “You’re selfish, you know that?”  

“Mhm, I know” he nods, grazing his thumb across your lip. 

“This isn’t healthy for us; we can’t heal like this.” He angles your head with his half lidded gaze, polishing your damp undereyes.  

“I don’t need healing. I need you.” 

You find passage in his hair, and surrender to temptation. 

You test with a smooch. Then another. Then a series of tender, sugary kisses are pushed upon his pliant lips, and he responds in kind. You curl your fingers through his tresses as you explore the contours of his lips for what feels like the first time. Toji isn’t known for patience, but the sensation of his mildly dry lips getting smoother from your supple kisses gives him the will to savor this moment. You push and pull from each other, indulging in the messy smacks and caresses. You stop amid shared breaths to skim and nudge his yearning lips, diving into more hungry kisses. Toji abruptly lifts you over him, and you deepen its bruising passion.  

You lick his bottom lip, and he groans, parting his mouth to allow your entry. You traverse the pink mass, interlacing in a wet feverish exchange. Your mind is numb, and the heartbeat in your core strikes stronger when your tongues intertwine. Toji hikes your dress up and slinks his massive hands over the plush fat of your rear. He earns a muffled moan from you as he kneads and gropes, and you feel his smirk against your lips. He grips your ass and starts to grind your hips on the bulge in his pants, a silent beg for any amount of friction. You wind with his movements, consuming him, and you hear a whimper get lost in the back of his throat.  

You drag your teeth along his neck. You lick and suck in a few spots and decide to draw harshly on a responsive patch of skin while circling the fat of your pussy over his sensitive cock, taut in his boxers. His breath hitches, and he slaps your ass. “Fuck, baby please.” It’s rare to witness him begging like this, and you’re drinking it in. You lick up his Adam’s apple and pepper his jaw with kisses. “You like it?” 

“Need more.” You bite his bottom lip for what seems like an exchange, but break away once he leans in. “Mm, be patient Toji.”  

Your hands traverse the rugged muscle under his tank top. He aids in taking it off, and you rake over his breathless torso. You kiss along his pecs and lick the groove of his abs, delighting in the parts you missed during your separation. Toji has a tinge of red soaking his chest and ears, shifting uncomfortably from his throbbing cock when you bat your eyes as you slope to the floor. You slip a finger under his waistband, playfully running over its span, and snapping it from a peak. He hisses. You palm his erection, and he grinds into it.  

“Wait” he husks. He reaches for a pillow and shuffles it under your knees. “Oh, thank you” you say, but it doesn’t look like he hears you in the chaos of tugging his sweatpants down to expose his boxers. The anticipation’s killing you, so you free his dick from its confinement. 

You can’t forget the mouthwatering size. His girth meets his length with equal satisfaction. The base is tan, fading to a rosy tip and a faint curve. You committed his veins to memory, small ones embossing the sides and a prominent one meandering to his tip. 

You maintain eye contact with him, hand steady on the base as you deliver taunting little licks to his frenulum. You precisely ring around his urethra and trace the veins, pulsating from the flick of your wrist. Toji hisses shaky curses and bucks, beefy thighs stiffening when you roll a flat strip to his leaking head and pump the base of his cock. He didn’t want to push you, but his whole body twitched in desire. “Your mouth” he groans. You react a coy ‘huh?’, tapping the head on your tongue and slathering it in saliva with cutesy doe eyes. He’s homed in on the strings of saliva connecting him to your tongue. 

An undertone of desperation in his gravelly voice, “Whole thing. In your mouth,” he expends another shaky breath, “please.” 

He bites his lip and stifles a moan, watching you engulf the cockhead in your mouth. You hollow out your cheeks while the underside of your tongue holds firm, and cautiously accommodate his size. It’s too big for comfort and it stretches the capacity of your plump spit-covered lips, but you work through the daunting pressure poking your reflex. You gradually relax, periodically gagging from an unprepared increase, and he twitches at your tightening throat. Your nose finally touches the hilt, flooded in his musk, and you start to suck. You bob leisurely, adjusting to the sense, and he subtly squirms in your touch.  

Toji crinkles his brows when you release a pleasant pop on his tip, purely to observe his eyes rolling back when you wreck him in a noisy suction. Noise was no longer a factor—sounds of spit and dry retching overpowered the volume of the movie regardless. He holds your hair away from you to get a better view of your face, smothered with tears and mascara, drool ceaseless down your chin. “F-fuck, you’re so good, so, so good to me” he groans. 

Your tongue swirls around him as you’re bobbing, and you accompany it with a tender massage to his balls. You cup and fondle them, using the lubrication from your spit to glide your fingers across. He sighs and grabs a handful of your hair. “Need to come. Keep that pretty throat open for me, yeah?” 

He rapidly shoves you down to the hilt, and you wince before he continues at a relentless pace. You anchor his thigh for stability, and he throws his head back, fucking your throat raw. There's a sheen of sweat where his bangs stick to his forehead, and he emits an endless measure of moans the closer he gets. Rambling about nonsense, yes’s and curses as he stiffens. He treats your mouth like a flesh light, evident by the throat bulge disappearing and reappearing. You happily accept the searing jaw, swaying your ass from thrumming in your saturated panties damp to your inner thighs.  

You can tell he’s about to climax because he goes completely quiet minus the panting, open mouthed with his head back. You resume massaging his balls, and he shoves you to the base, “C-coming” he moans. You grab onto him, and a squeak dies in your throat when he paints it white. He shakes, groans for each spurt coating your mouth, pumping the last of his semen as you swallow. 

Toji shudders when he pulls out, and his panting returns to a soft huff. You expected him to be spent, or at least sit in the aftershocks for a while until he calmed down. But he tightens the grip on your hair and forces you to look up. “Show me” he husks. You stick your tongue out, proof you swallowed every bit. “Now c’mere”, he guides you into a filthy French kiss, devouring you with much more dominance than before. It’s as though your nearness restored him. You can hardly stand your feeble knees and sopping core, but Toji takes care of it for you. With unnatural vigor, he lifts you over his shoulder, and marches up the stairs. “Ah, Toji, maybe you should take a sec-” 

He swats your butt harsh, and you yelp from the sting. “Don’t fuckin’ tell me what to do. You’ve been so mouthy, a damn tease, too. You’re gonna regret it.” 

You’re ferried into the rather plain bedroom lined with dim hues, and a wide ceiling length mirror opposite the bed. He tosses you on the dark gray bedding and climbs over you. Your heart’s racing with thrill. Toji yanks the dress over your head, uncovering the sheer white lacey bra, similar to your underwear.  

He stares like you’re a piece of meat, feasting on your flawlessness not yet smothered in hickeys and bruises, your nipples at attention under the fabric. “It’s all for me, huh?” he whispers, lust rolling off his tongue. You nod, because it’s always been for him, whether he was here or not. He buries himself in your cleavage and hums in satisfaction. His touch sends goosebumps to your skin and keeps your back arched when he drags a pad along your spine. Then your bra unclasps, and he removes it carefully, as if he didn’t want to spoil the surprise by unwrapping his gift too early. He gawks at them for an embarrassingly long pause, enough to make your cheeks hot, and you chide, “Stop staring.” 

“Shut up, you’re gorgeous.” Toji submerges the bud, whirling around it while he roughly squeezes both breasts. He molds the dough of your breasts with strong palms, nips and tugs your nipple before soothing it with fierce tongue kisses. Consistent teeth grazing hikes your sensitivity before he trades it for sucking. When he switches to the other, he pinches the maltreated peak, eliciting a whimper. You merely bind your thighs and embrace the disarray being caused on your spit-soaked nipples. The cold air your abused tits receive as he withdrawals from suckling is nullified by the hickeys he leaves. You quiver from constellations of splotchy purplish red, delicious pain tingling throughout your torso. “Not so much, I have to go back to work soon” you moan, not very convincing.  

“Even better; everyone’ll know who fucks you” Toji winks, and your heart skips. He dumps a nice vibrant bruise on your sternum, and advances to the dainty hem. He parts your thighs with ease, throwing them on his shoulder. Then he develops a haughty smirk.  

You’re monitoring his face, until he presses a pad against your aching clit, and the subsequent juices overflowing from a huge wet patch. He plays with the spiderweb of slick between his digits, “Mm. Y’still my girl.” You blush as he sucks on them and licks his lips afterwards. Hooking under the panties, he pulls them taut, projecting the swell of your pudgy vulva in tightening lace. It sinks past your outer lips and cages your clit—you want to writhe from friction, but it makes it worse. He ghosts against you and kisses the print, and you want to scream. “Tell me what you want, or I won’t do it.” 

“P-please...” you whine. You lock eyes, and you can hardly manage a word in the foreground of his intensity. How can he expect you to form coherent sentences when he sees through you like this? He gives a disappointed tut and puppeteers the strings, shifting them back and forth upon your neglected vulva. You cry out, and he cinches it together, isolating the part that pulses incessantly. He has an evil grin on his face, the bastard. “Details, baby.” 

“Toji...please t-touch me alre-eady so I can come, m’sorry I won’t tease you again!” you promise, willing to do whatever it takes to reduce your sentence. 

“And what else?” 

“Your mouth on m-my pussy...please lick it.” You’re humiliated at the request that tumbles from your bottommost desires, but he’s satisfied. He’s never been one to shy away from dirty talk. 

“Good girl.” Toji slithers your panties off, and you sigh from a loss of pressure just as his bangs tickle your pubic area. He interlocks your hands, a breath from eating you. 

“You don’t look at me, I’ll stop. Think you can do that f’me?”  

“Mhm!”  

He hums in agreement and submerses into you. Toji’s a messy eater, especially when he’s desperate. He ovals the outer lips and precisely stirs your clit, and your stomach turns in knots from simple motions. He frames it and carefully winds around his capable tongue, really focusing on the spots that make your back curve; really focusing on your entry, as he teasingly digs in.  

Toji cajoles a groan from his nose caressing your bud, then laps a level tongue over your wetness, truly tasting you. It isn’t long before his teasing farce began to crumble, and he obliged his ravenous appetite. He eats you starving, insatiable as he absorbs your twitching cunt and perfumed essence spilling down his chin. You clasp your hands, desire building in a trembling quake, but he doesn’t falter. He slurps your inner lips, and finally delivers proper care to your neglected clit. He hums a low vibration when he sucks, his pursed lips moving from a steady tongue to full on slobbering like some savage animal.  

You appreciate the support his steady hands give your shaky ones. “Toji, hahhh coming” you whine, a familiar sensation flipping in your core. He lets his words fan onto you, “You know better” he husks. Your hips are bucking frantically, and so you whine, “Please, can I come sir, please please please please!”  

“Hmm, I don’t know, you were ready to disobey me just now.” He says that, however the look in his eye is unrelated; it craves you, the want to make you squeal repeatedly until you’re on the verge of collapse. “’M can’t take it anymore, please let me come!” You urge your hips to his mouth, and meld into his warmth. 

“Come on my face, pretty girl” he groans, just as hankering as you. He laps at your clit, and you sooner fall apart underneath him. Your whimpered plea forms an innocent sob as you spasm from overstimulation. Toji just doesn’t stop. His head careens against you, tasting everything your body has to offer. You’re suddenly regretting how badly you wanted to come. 

“Toji- I-it’s too much” you protest, but it receives no response. Your release dribbles down his chin and he persists, ultimately unbinding when you lose a hold on his hands from the tremors. He diverges your lips and admires the way your mess clenches around air. 

“Heh, you’re shaking. Cute.” He rubs the back of your legs, reassuring you in spite of his previous cruelty. You make a sad attempt at wiggling away, but he grabs you firm. 

No running. Be good and hold your legs back.” He folds your legs to your shoulders, and you mewl, reluctantly wrapping your hands around them. ‘No’ isn’t a valid response at present.  

Toji’s thumbs spread your wrinkling opening, and you feel a draft on its expanse before he spits directly into your hole. You jerk, startled, and he shushes you. He slathers his thick digits in your glistening strip, and smoothly sinks one inside. “Pussy so slippery for me. Miss this...miss you” he sighs, starting to pump. He prepares you for the main course, scrapes your walls and curls his finger to hit a spot you can’t reach. The nasty squelching sounds you echo from a mere finger casts heat on your cheeks, and he seems to enjoy your responsiveness as he adds another finger to the commotion. He twines a ‘come hither’ motion that makes your back arch from every delightful swipe against your velvety walls. Then his pink muscle undulates along your swollen bud, and you dissolve to a puddle. Your hips stutter, and surge after surge of torturous pleasure strikes you with no end in sight. 

“Toji, f-fuck wait- hng s’feels too good” you whimper, and he gruffs a chuckle. He expands his fingers with precision, then chooses to slide a thumb in your butthole. The combination of both hands intruding your being, coiling into your soul jams your head with intoxicating dizziness and fictitious futures. Static pools in your stomach and circulates like the goading flickers of a raging inferno. He contacts your g-spot, and you moan, “Ah- can I, I’m close” 

“I know, I know. Let go for me,” he says, or at least that’s what it sounds like when he’s face-deep. Your eyes are screwed shut, white noise before you crash and shatter around his fingers. Fortunately, you’re deaf to your own lewd wailing, clutching for dear life through contractions. It gushes past his wrist. Tears reside in your lashes, croaked sob from the slap he gives your puffy pussy. “That’s it, baby, there we go.” 

Toji shows mercy and slips out. You’re still registering sultry bliss, untangling your limbs to lay slack. Empathy isn’t forever, though, because he forces your butt rearwards as he hops off the bed. Precum seeps from his tip, sheeting his shaft and heavy brimming sack. He propels your thighs to your chest, and your expression switches to fear for a second at the angry red tip sitting at your entrance. It's as if it grew since the blowjob, and you’re sure you’ll die if he stuffs that monster inside you.  

He slides up and down the entrance, seizing the sore bud, “Mmm, pretty thing making a mess all over my cock.”  

“Just go slow, okay?” you meek. 

“Of course, ‘m not tryna kill you.” Toji doesn’t disrupt the yearning gaze between you, giving your entry several threatening caresses. He groans from the sensation of your puffy lips snuggling his length. Then he plunges the bulbous tip, encased in your passion. He’s unhurried for the most part, besides the instants he stops himself from ramming into you, cock begging to feel the fervor. He’s plugging you to capacity, and you’re only halfway in. Soreness whirrs in your walls being outstretched beyond belief, yet you’re milking what remains, dragging the rest of him in. His breath hitches, a spiderweb of veins pulses in your tight embrace and he rocks his hips further. “Look at the way you’re gripping me. Fuck” he shudders. His tip presses on your cervix, and you feel the weight of his balls on your rear. 

Toji drives into you nice and slow. In this position you feel each vast stroke massaging your tumid core, squelching amidst your languid bodies. There’s almost a gloss film on his eyes as he indulges in the sweet addiction swamping his thoughts with unfiltered lust. “When you left it hurt real bad, y’know? I even cried.” You’re a bit stunned at his spur of honesty, but it’s short-lived as his thrusts get wilder and brutal. Your mouth hangs open, drool shameless out your mouth as he kisses your cervix without trying. You throb frenetically, chest heaving from the way his sack smacks against your ass and the creamy translucent ring forming at the base of his cock. His swinging strokes graze your g-spot and you sob, but he doesn’t check for your mitigation, encompassing your numb clit in the heat of his mean smacks.  

“Heh, dunno if you remember, but you left a pair of panties when you moved”, Toji regresses to the tip and bottoms out repeatedly, “I’ve jerked off in them so many times, imagining you backing up this juicy pussy on my dick.” You’re hysterical, flushed from head to toe and struggling to take breaths. Toji has you locked slamming into your cervix. It coaxes a mix of pleasure and pain burning through you, and your toes curl. “You love me?” he asks. It’s unfair to ask you now, scatter-brained and drooling like a stupefied slut. But you nod, and he plasters a cocky grin. “Good. ‘S long as I have that, I’m okay.”  

The unexpected flood of your orgasm quakes you, unable to warn Toji, or even ask for permission. How disappointed he’d be in you, as your juices sluice and soak, fluttering where you come undone. It’s a trail of fire, and it hurts to come. His hips sputter and he mutters a string of curses, flicking your nub faster to heighten the intensity of the earlier mess. You paw at his chest, back arched and fresh tears clustering in the haze. “Please, please!” you babble to an unresponsive Toji, stuck in a feral trance.  

Toji pulls out, palpitating at the precipice of his own climax. You take this opportunity to flip on your stomach and creep to a farther part of the bed. He’s in no rush. You can’t go far like that, a net of arousal at the apex of your thighs. He climbs onto the bed and grapples your hips, thighs capturing yours. He curves your back and slips into your gummy walls anew. You grip him like a vice notwithstanding the complaints. You hate to say it, but Toji’s length bullying its way to your cervix is a poison you’d drink habitually. He snares your hair and holds the underside of your chin. “Hah- c’mon baby, you can take a little more”, he groans at a savage pace, “be a good girl.” Your ass ripples against the brawny man, hoarse voice in your ear, scrotum pummeling the overworked bundle of nerves. Your knuckles turn white on the sheets. All you should do is let him use you, that’s all you need to do, right?   

Toji pans your head to the mirror, “Look how good you’re taking me, angel. You’re doing well.” His honeyed praises make you throb, attended by the bestial snap of his hips. “See that?”, he references your release slugging both legs, air heavy with sweat, “you’re such a f-fucking slut, what man could satisfy you besides me?” You sniffle and muster a pathetic babble, and he laughs. “You’re my perfect slut, though, fuck- ‘nd I’m not gonna make the same mistakes again.” There’s a tinge of regret swimming in the sea that is Toji’s confidence, and you feel it. It’s a subtle confession; please don’t go. 

Then he stops. Toji lets go, and you’re impulsively manhandled in front of him while he’s behind you. He lays back, and in doing so, ferries your knees to the sides of your face and hooks his hands to the rear of your head. You’re unveiled in the reflection of the mirror, a panel that bounces back the thin sheen of sweat on your bodies, your disheveled hair and makeup, wrinkled sheets, and the sticky lacings attaching you to Toji. You want to shy from the humiliating sight. “Don’t hide your face” he coos. You glimpse a portion of his face in the mirror, a glint in his eye, “I like this view more.”  

He bends his knees and pounds your chubby cunt with reckless abandon. He’s fucking your cervix, heedless grunts and panting groans as you swallow him up. Toji sputters, throbbing along your abused body and reverberating vicious staggering plap’s that could be heard on the lowest floor. You can’t breathe, let alone think, and the asphyxiation goes straight to your pussy. “O-oh fuck, heh, feel s’good. Gonna fill you up, yeah? Shit- have a mini me crawling around. Y-you'd like that, wouldn’t you, doll? Wanna carry my baby?” The headboard thuds against the wall, and in your fog, you call out for him, chanting his name like a mantra. The emotion is overwhelming, you claw at his bicep as shockwaves burst and fizzle out on your skin. “You’re dripping down my balls, sweetie, you close again?” Tougher, nastier strikes allure your orgasm, and you bleat a scream as a stream of liquid surges from you that drenches the sheets and Toji’s shaft. It’s a blinding white light, and you go limp through the violent spasms.  

“Ohhh shit, that’s it baby, take everything I give you” he rasps. Toji shoulders your dead weight with ease, going silent, then plummeting you to the hilt. His balls tighten, and he manages some slushy pumps before he comes. He spurts thick, hot globs that paint and crowd your walls with greed. You milk him dry as he bucks. It overflows to trickling down his length, and his muscles quiver as he comes down from his high. His staggering pants reduce to hitching, and he relaxes your exhausted limbs. 

Toji drives out and turns you around. You’re edging unconsciousness, sporadic jolts and innocent sobs carrying in your scratched throat. “I know. Breathe, baby.” He brings you flush with his chest, and you absorb his gentle puffs, the methodical beat of his heart. “You okay?” You’re unresponsive, gathering yourself in an incomplete collage of thoughts. You want to talk but it dissipates on your tongue. He rubs your back and kisses your forehead.  

Then it’s muted; solely the dwindling rate at which your heart races, and the tender smooches Toji dots on your face as you cuddle. When you open your eyes, the sheets are changed, and you’re cleaned. Clearly some time has passed. You sit, and Toji comes out the bathroom, running water in the background. “How ya feelin’?” 

You wince at the blunt thrum in your vulva, “Okay. How long was I out?” 

“Like half an hour. Up for a bath?” You don’t have the energy to move your body. Toji scoops you bridal style and leads you to the bathroom. You found it amusing how considerate he was after wrecking your brain. 

Toji spoons a generous quantity of Epson salt into the corner jet tub. He helps you in and joins once you’re stable. It’s a lavish proportion, but you decide to be next to him. Your head situates on your forearms over the tub rim while Toji sloshes water onto your back. The steam and serene jets below ship you to a luxury vacation on a tropical island, its quality comparable to spas with extensive dollar signs. You study each other. 

“I’ll let you get whatever you need from your place.” You knit your brows, “For what?” 

“You live with me.” You simper at his audacity.  

“So, you’re the decision maker now?” 

“For this, yes. Can’t risk you runnin’ off again.” 

“It’s your fault I left.” He pauses, brushing your cheek with his thumb. “I know. I’m sorry.” 

A piece of you becomes whole at his acknowledgement. There are no petty jabs to be had where lingering truths wade in the mist. “Never thought I’d hear an apology from you.”  

“It’s overdue. I was a dick, and I should’ve never treated you like that. Was tryna sort out my shit, but I didn’t have to take it out on ya.” 

The corner of your mouth quirks up. “Sorry...but not sorry enough to let me go?” 

 “No. You need nobody but me.” 

You chortle, and he cracks a smirk. “Arrogant asshole.”   

“I love you, too.” 

#jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu toji #toji fushiguro #toji smut #toji x reader #jjk smut #jjk x reader #toji fushigro x reader #jjk

[simpjaes]

Have you done a size ranking for Enha’s dick sizes yet ?•_•

not on my blog but boiiiii have i discussed this at length with oomf. let's go ahead and change that tho.

note: i was gonna include pics but tbh i don't rly wanna do that now lmfao sorry. im gatekeeping!!!! you don't have to agree with the sizes im giving them btw, some dude's just have monster cock energy sorry.

★ heeseung:

long and thick. almost too big, sometimes actually too big. takes both hands to jerk him off, and the entire expanse of your throat to swallow him up. honestly, it's so big that you have no choice but to feel each pulse and twitch of it when he's inside of you. the stretch is painful regardless of the position he takes with you, and you're not sure if you could ever get wet enough to ease the sear of it. you don't understand, really, heeseung literally makes you feel like you're being split in half but goddamn does he make it feel amazing at the same time. there are some men out there who have huge cocks and assume that's all they need to pleasure a woman. but oh, oh no no no, heeseung is well aware that you gotta know how to use it too. and boy does he.

☆ jay:

maybe not the longest cock of the bunch but definitely the thickest. for every deep part of you he can't reach, he makes up for it with the way he slams his hips into you, forcing you to feel every thick inch of him. unlike heeseung, you may be able to jerk him off with one hand but it doesn't change the fact that you can't fully wrap your fingers around him, and fitting it into your mouth can be a bit difficult as well. thankfully, jay isn't too worried about teeth when he gets to see you attempt to swallow him up. in fact, the little drag of them scraping the top-side of his cock is something that makes him shiver. he thinks it's cute to see you try and take all of it, actually. never feeling insecure over the fact that while he's definitely not packing anything over 5 to 6 inches, the girth alone is enough to leave a pretty girl calling out his name, begging him to go harder, telling him how good it feels in them.

★sunghoon:

long long long, but not as thick. the reach he can manage is insane, to the point that he'd probably have an obsession with snapping pics of his cock laying between your legs and measuring how far inside of you he's about to put it. visual stimulation, n all that. you can feel him deeper than any one else could probably reach, slamming into your cervix to the point it actually hurts, to the point he could probably have you pregnant in one fuck if you guys wanted to go that route. like that cum wouldn't have to go far at all to reach its goal lmfao jerking him off is easier than anything else, but giving him head can be a bit of a conundrum for you. you can lick and suck all you want with your hand jerking the bottom half of his cock but he's always gonna prefer the feeling of your throat gagging around him instead. he's gonna fuck the whole thing down your throat and adore the way you sound struggling with it.

☆ jake:

a perfect, average, nice cock, for a perfect, not so average, nice man. fits like a puzzle piece and fills you up the perfect amount. enough for it to hurt if he wants it to, enough for him to offer nothing but pure pleasure otherwise. the good thing about jake and his cock is the fact that just about anything can and will get him off, not only because the ease of which it'll fit into you, but because you love every inch of it when he does it. and sure, he can make it feel longer, he can make it feel thicker, all with just a shift of his hips. fr, and he's always shifting them too, trying to reach parts of you he knows he can't. every blowjob is met with gags, of course, because he definitely can't control his hips. every hand job met with the perfect weight in your hand, and every fuck met with a feeling of fullness that renders you capable enough to feel every second of his love rather than having to wince through it and lose your train of thought during certain positions.

#enhypen smut #enhypen hard hours #heeseung smut #sunghoon smut #jake smut #jay smut #jongseong smut #jaeyun smut #hardthots

[nonranghaes]

heads up! traumatized reader who wants touch but struggles w it. im just getting thoughts out rn.

"you can tell me to stop as soon as you're uncomfortable, alright?"

sometimes you think about measuring the distance between you and vernon, never sitting hip to hip, just to know the exact number. but this time you're trying. you inch in slightly, he shifts over. and you turn to him, eyes meeting his for a moment. your face is burning a little over this, too embarrassed that this is something you have to work towards. other people don't struggle with this (the mental comparisons never stop, unfortunately)--hell, you've seen him cuddle with friends before. sometimes you think he's a saint for putting up with you. and he... well, he says he likes you and that's enough to let him be patient.

you're the one who has to move in, and you do, slowly. he wraps an arm around you, drawing you in as you rest your head on his chest. you can hear his heart beating a little faster than you expected. he's nervous? of course he's nervous. you're nervous, too. as much as you just want to cuddle with him like normal couples do... there's the part of your brain that's terrified. vernon won't hurt you, you know he won't, and yet you can't squash that fear completely. it'll always be there, snarling and growling no matter how hard you try to tame it. you end up drawing your legs up over his lap, curling up closer to him.

"good?" he asks quietly. when you nod, he reaches past you, and shifts forward just enough that he can wrap a blanket around the both of you. "just say the word, alright?"

you nod. your heart is racing now. he's focused on the tv again, and your mind keeps flitting back to vernon. one of his arms is around you again, and the other is loosely draped over your legs, his other hand curled around your calf. it shouldn't bother you, you think, but it does. it's too much. but you've only been here for a few seconds. vernon seems so fine with it all--you can't even tell if he's excited or not to finally be this close to you. it feels like you're letting him down, but what if, what if, what if?

and then you break away from him without a word, already on the verge of tears. he doesn't say anything, but you feel the plush blanket get draped over your shoulders. when you look up, he's offering you his hand.

"baby steps. right?"

you nod. "baby steps."

hand holding and shoulder to shoulder contact it is, then. maybe next time.

#nonranghaes.thoughts #nonranghaes.svt #vernon angst #vernon x reader #chwe vernon x reader #seventeen angst #seventeen drabbles #seventeen x reader #seventeen imagine #svt angst #svt imagines #svt imagine #svt x reader #got hit w the 'i want to cuddle with someone but also i dont want to be perceived or touched at all' feelings rn

[queenimmadolla]

Please this is so eddie and penny when she finds out his name https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZT8JYJLEV/

“Im Daddy to you”

“But your Eddie!”

God forbid she fine out his full government name 😂

Penny busts out the full use of Eddie's government name (we're talking Edward Whateverhismiddlenameis Munson) when she's mad at him, lol.

Penny is around 2 years old here making Eddie 23 and Reader 22 :)

more of penny and Eddie here

The sight of you and his toddler cuddling on the couch was a welcome one when Eddie finally arrived home after a long day at the shop. 

  He discarded his keys in a bowl on the counter, before heading over to the sink to wash his hands. He was always eager to get home to you at the end of the day so he didn’t do as thorough of a job when it came to making sure he had no traces of grease on his hands or arms. Sometimes, even his face–but that was something you seemed to. . . appreciate.

  “Hi, baby!” He called out to you as he scrubbed his arms with soap under the warm running water, fully intent on getting in on those cuddles once he was clean.

  “Hi, Eddie!” You called back.

  “Hi, Edd-ie!” Came a much smaller voice.

  Eddie turned off the faucet and stood ramrod straight as he tried to process what he just heard. He didn't wipe the water from his hands before he stormed to the living room. 

  Penny had been laying on the couch, head on your chest and in between you and the couch to prevent her from falling off, when Eddie had walked in the front door. Now she was leaning up, curls a mess going in every direction (save for the half of her head where she’d been laying on you–that area was flat) as she grinned, her tiny teeth and tooth gap on display for him. 

  Eddie’s eyes narrowed at her, while you tried to hide your smile in her hair. 

  “What did you just say?”

  “Hi, Edd-ie!” She repeated, trying her hardest to enunciate his name correctly, probably just to hurt him.

  “No, no, no. I’m not Eddie. I’m daddy.”

  Penny started giggling, her nose crinkling up.

  “No, you Edd-ie!”

  She chirped it so enthusiastically it made you laugh, which only encouraged Penny and her giggling.

  “When I picked her up from Maude, you came up in conversation and Penny wanted to know who ‘Eddie’ was, so I told her ‘Eddie’ is her daddy.” You explained, hand stroking over her little head, the short curls twisting around your fingers.

  Eddie was a little amused with the situation, but he also couldn’t tell if this was just her teasing him or something she would stick to for a while and he really, really didn’t want it to be the latter, especially considering how she’d only started calling him daddy and talking more just a few months ago, so his laughter was more so nervous.

  “Ha ha ha, you’re sooooo funny Penny. I’m daddy. Remember? Daddy.” He closed the distance, crouching down at your side to be eye level with her.

  “Is that daddy?” You asked her as she nuzzled her head back down against your chest, pointing at Eddie. She looked up at you with those big brown eyes before following your finger to the person she’d inherited her eyes from. Eddie was giving her a puppy dog stare, the same one she gave him whenever she was doing something she wasn’t supposed to do.

  Penny nodded against your chest, reaching out to squeeze Eddie’s nose for some reason.

  Eddie was pleased with her response, pulling his nose away from her little hand to bite playfully at it. Penny squealed and yanked it back to her chest.

  “Good. I’m ‘daddy’ to you, young lady.” Eddie directed a finger at her while he spoke before reaching over to boop her nose with it.

  She grinned again, hiding her face in your chest for a few moments. When her face popped back up, she was sticking her little tongue out as she smiled, “Okie dokie, Edd-ie.”

  “Baby, make her stooooop!”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #pennyverse #dad!eddie #girl dad!eddie munson #dad!eddie munson x reader #dad!eddie munson x mom!reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x reader fluff #stranger things #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson x black!reader #dad!eddie munson #dilf!eddie munson #stranger things fanction #stranger things 4 #stranger things volume 1 #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson imagine #queenimmadolla

[littyhoney]

Right Person,Wrong Time (part 3)

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4)

BIG SPOILER WARNING TO ACROSS THE SPIDER-VERSE!!

Earth 42 Miles Morales x Reader

Chapter summary: One last heart break...will you ever get enough of it?

Warning: Spoilers for the movie Across the Spider-verse, slight angst

ps: If yall have any request for one-shots and imagines message me im open up for requests! <3

You been avoiding Miles ever since the incident happened betweent the two of you… not that you are being petty but it just hurt your feelings to see someone you care looking at you thinking it be someone else instead even after you give your all to him.  You still went on to the patrol with him at night but separately,only come to help him when the situation is overwhelms him but nothing more than that.

You are sitting in your dorm room at  Vision Academy currently finishing up your essay, music blaring in the background. But your focus got disturb when a ring come from your phone on the bed, you use your web to pull it towards you to see the caller ID.

Coco Head calling…

You sigh contemplating you want to accept the call or not,your thumb hovering on the red button but your guts is screaming at you to accept. “Oh what the heck…” you mumble to yourself before accept the call and put the phone againts your ear hearing a panic screams from Miles reach your ear and a few groans here and there.  You shot up from your seat.

“Miles? What is going on!?”  You panic as you hear Miles struggle againts or with someone over the phone,in your head maybe he is fighting againts a criminal when he is supposed to be in the principa’s office “you heard Miles  scream one more time before he manage to let out a loud “I NEED HELP HERE THIS GUY IS OUT OF CONTROL!” before another scream is heard.

“Where the hell are you Miles! Im coming to-” you start to walk towards the window before you see outside of the window makes you stop talking. Outside the window you see Miles is struggling to catch a guy…in a cow outfit? Or a dalmation,what a weird taste in costume for a criminal but you shake your head and tell him through the phone “be there in a minute!” you shed off your school uniform underneath it is your spider suit,believe me it gets itchy sometimes through out the day to wear this many layers of clothes to cover the suit man.

You put on your mask before jump out through the window and catch yourself using your web start swinging towards Miles and the weird criminal on top of the bus. You shot out a web towards the hand and foot making it fall on top of the bus as you land besides Miles,who is currently try his best to respond to his dad’s message.

“So uh what are you exactly?” you look down at the white with black spot guy as he struggle againts your web. He grunts around before answering “Im the spot! And no im not a cow OR a dalmation! I’am your nemesis!” clearly the guy is pissed off,but why? You tilt your head “Oookay?”

You turn towards Miles with your hands on your waist with a slight scowl shown on your mask “and you cant even handle a guy that looks like a cow?” Miles turn towards you slightly feel offended by you “That guy is a pain to catch! He can create portals and im late my mom is gonna kill me!” you shake your head slightly “That is a you problem with mama Rio” you turn your head back to the guy to shot a web at him so that you can give him to the police and finish the job easy,but instead of the web get on his body it goes through one of the holes and a black portal open up besides you as the web shot to your side “what the!-” you pull your web resulting to you catapul yourself into the portal resulting to you slam againts the street vendor “No way im getting my ass kick by a cow” you mumble to yourself before catching up on two of them.

Somehow you and Miles finally get a hold of this guy as he is now In a tangle mess mixture of you and Miles web to his limbs in his own portal that he made. You let out a big sigh before turning to Miles “You gotta go now man,don’t want mama Rio to go T-rex on ya” Miles let out a small shoot and look at you “Thanks for helping me with this uh criminal of the week” you nod your head “anytime man…anytime”

Miles look guilty as he contemplating wanting to reach his hand out to you “look, you been avoiding me for few days and I-I understand but-” you stop Miles sentence with your own “Look man,how about you go back to the academy first then we talk about this…after the party” Miles let out a defeat sigh before nodding his head and start to swing his way to the academy “I owe you one!” he shouted.  You turn your attention back to the cow looking guy “You stay put right there alright? The police gonna come by any minute” you start to walk backwards as you talk to the edge of the building

“Wait where are you going!? im not done yet!”the ‘cow’ guy screams as he struggle agaits the webs. “I have a class to catch up man, see ya never!” you fall backwards from the edge of the building and make your way back to the window that leads to your dorm room,but you’re still late for the class anyways.

(small times skip as miles got to face with his angry momma bear and stopping the spot with his dad)

It is later in the evening after a long day of classes youre making your way to Miles apartment to attend the party that mama Rio invited you to come,instead of swinging your way from place to place like Miles you love the simplicity to just walk down the sidewalk, looking at the people around you minding their own bussiness completely oblivious as the person that is walking among them is a spiderman/spiderwoman. Youre walking through the alleyway for shortcut before suddenly your spider sense goes off, huh that’s weird. Your hearing sense did’nt hear anything other than the busy street down the alley so you continue on walking.

You went up the stair leading to the party opening the door and see a lot of people are there enjoying themselves with foods and drinks and the music played by the DJ,wow the Morales really know how to throw a party. You make your way to Mrs Morales wanting to greet her first before doing anything else tap her shoulder “Hey mama Rio!”

The woman turn around and smile widely as she lay her eyes on you “(Y/N)! you finally made it welcome dear,we have lots of food and drinks help yourself out” you smile back at her “Thanks mama Rio” you were about to ask where Miles is before a voice came from beside you “Hey (Y/N)!” you turn to look at Mr Morales before held out your palm for a handshake “Congrats on the promotion captain Davis”you smile up at the man happy for him. The man chuckle shaking your hand “Thank you (Y/N),glad you could make it to the party It be a shame for you to miss some of Rio’s cooking”. You laugh lightly before asking where their son is,mama Rio nudge her head looking towards the water tank “Hes’s right there,with his friend”she put one of her hand on her waist looking at her son hanging out with the girl she never seen before.

Mama Rio voice drown away as you stand there,stunned to see who is standing beside Miles and chatting away happily together…It’s Gwen. Your heart starts to beat fast as you clench your hand to a fist on your sides,pursing your lips not believing that she’s there in person. Your heart seems to squeeze itself and you fight the urge to just storm away from the party,not only that Gwen didn’t come to see you but Miles didn’t even call or message to tell you that Gwen is here! Your brows start to turn upside down as your eyes are pierce to where they stand.

(Mama Rio’s POV.)

“She looks old enough to vote does’nt she?” Rio told her husband and the her son’s bestfriend before looking at the child who is beside her,who is clearly in distress. Rio is not blind or a fool,clearly she can see how much the child likes her son,deep down she is hoping Miles would see it but over the years it does’nt seem to grow past that point. Rio put her hand gently on the child’s shoulder giving it a light squeeze before speaking softly “I know you like him my dear,he needs some time to see that”

The child look down before speaking in a such soft tone it almost a whisper “I did give him time mama Rio…but…im giving up on it,maybe it’s better to be there for him and be happy for him you know…”

Rio sigh move herself to where her son is at not before giving her last words to the child “You are a good kid (Y/N), Im sure,one day you will find someone just as selfless and have so much love to give to you” she give the kid one last smile before make her way to where her son is.

Back to you POV.

Mama rio’s word ring through your head…your eyes trail back to where Miles and Gwen are before mumbling to the air “Maybe…in another universe…he would” little that you know…that universe exist,and it's called Earth 42.

To be continued....

(ALMOST THERE TO MEET EARTH 42 MILES BARE WITH ME LOVELY SPIDERS <;3)

tag list:

@dazecrea @i-love-milfs2 @usernamepassowrd-blog @frissy @musicownsme @randomhoex @dystop4in14nd @coldlamaspersonspy @repostingmyfavs @lovefks @wingedghostpepper @bath1lda @baku-boneless @biggestmacsstuff @milesquaritcheswife @mmst4rz @jasontoddsfavoritechair @jadyn-is-kinda-gay-ngl @manduse @angelbunnyboo @bbootyyyshaker9000 @thymom696969 @camilo-uwu @duckwithsunglasses @arlipooh

#miles morales x reader #miles morales fanfiction #miles morales x y/n

[wooahaes]

a spark of realization

pairing: non-idol!hoshi x gn!reader

prompt: soulmate au series. 13/13

word count: 5.0k~

warnings: some food mentions. some angst. coworkers au. platonic love between soonyoung and his friends <3 some alcohol mentions (all regarding soonyoung drinking, no real mentions of reader actually drinking). mentions of static shocks throughout.

daisy’s notes: soonyoung looks at all of his friends and goes 'i love u all so much' and im like god same me when i look at my friends

summary: Unlike Jihoon and every other friend that swore they didn’t have one, Soonyoung knows he doesn’t have a soulmate. He’s tried plenty of the subtle soulmate things. He doesn’t feel anyone’s pain or emotions, he doesn’t taste anything weird, and he’s dyed his hair enough times to know that he most likely doesn’t have someone out there. Yet the static that makes his hair stand on end sometimes just causes him to think that maybe there’s something else to expect…

Kwon Soonyoung was positive about one thing in his life: he did not have a soulmate. Never showed any signs when he was ten onward, and he never would. Sure, it hurt to hear when he was ten—he was ten and stuck into this category of “without” regardless of how he felt about having a soulmate, that was sure to make anyone upset—but he’d figured things out for himself while growing up. Some people hated their soulmates. Other people loved them, sure, like… every single one of his friends now, but that was beside the point. Soonyoung had decided several things for himself. 

One: he didn’t need a soulmate to be happy and fulfilled. Plenty of people didn’t end up with their soulmates. Plenty of people didn’t have a romantic relationship with their soulmates, but stayed in touch. Some people didn’t even want their soulmates at all, either. Therefore: no one needed a soulmate to be a complete person. He was just fine on his own. (This was something his parents taught him from an early age.)

Two: Soonyoung did have soulmates, actually. Twelve of them. His twelve closest friends were his soulmates, platonically, and they’d all chosen each other in life. But if he had to pick one, then it was easily Jihoon. The two had known each other the longest now, and Soonyoung had told him one night that if neither of them had soulmates, then they were platonic soulmates. And even after Jihoon found his soulmate, Soonyoung still believed in it. The two of them just fit together in a way that was right.

“Really?” Jihoon had been half-asleep on the couch that night, tired from both work work and music work. He and Joshua had to re-record the song they’d been working on… again. Soonyoung could admire how dedicated Jihoon was to having a perfect product, though. “That’s sappy.”

Soonyoung had giggled, admittedly very much not sober. “No, no, I mean it! We’re soulmates, I think.” Another burst of giggles as he reached toward Jihoon’s hand. “I know you have one now, but…” 

Jihoon gently patted his cheek. “No, you’re right. We’re soulmates, too.” He shut his eyes, about to nod off again. “Soonyoung…” He yawned, turning onto his side. His dark eyes found Soonyoung’s a moment later, only barely open. “I don’t want to give you false hope, but… Have you ever looked into it?”

Soonyoung leaned against him. Of course he had. Hadn’t most people who did, deep down, want a soulmate? Well, maybe except Vernon. Vernon did his own thing most of the time. “I don’t wanna.”

“You don’t have to,” Jihoon said, understanding as always. “But…”

“Hm?”

“It’s hard to live in a world where I would have one and you wouldn’t.” Jihoon’s voice was heavy with sleep, and his eyelids fluttered shut again a moment later. “That’s all.”

“Why not?” Soonyoung stifled a yawn. “You’re cool. You make music. Plenty of people would love that. You can write your soulmate love songs now.” 

It earned a quiet chuckle from Jihoon. “Just…” He trailed off. “I was okay with not having one because love is… different. Like what Wonwoo says about it. It’s a choice and something you make. But you…” 

Soonyoung blinked curiously at him. He…? 

“Anyone would love you,” he mumbled, clearly beginning to doze off now. “I just don’t understand how it could be me and not you.”

Soonyoung had decided to love Jihoon extra from that point on. Jihoon’s soulmate did the same, and everyone else truly adored Jihoon, but Soonyoung understood. Jihoon never saw himself as the leading man in any situation. He wasn’t sure if that extended to believing he wasn’t anyone’s first choice (he was always Soonyoung’s, if that meant anything), but Soonyoung didn’t need to know. He just knew that he would always hype up Jihoon as much as he could. Everyone did, to be fair, but Soonyoung was happy to be a louder voice among the crowd. He would always be there to stream his songs when they were released and share them on every account he had, even if that sometimes required Seungcheol or Wonwoo helping him not break the link in the process.

But he’d never let go of that thought. How could it be me and not you? As if Jihoon deserved a soulmate less than Soonyoung did. Soonyoung had his moments of yearning, the same way that Seokmin often did, but he wouldn’t trade places with any of his friends. Their soulmates meant something to them. Soonyoung had seen the way Seungkwan doted on his soulmate day in and day out, and he’d quietly apologized to him once for the times he’d made inappropriate jokes. 

“What, those?” Seungkwan hadn’t seemed bothered in the slightest. “You were trying to make light of things so I wouldn’t worry.” He crossed his arms. “They hurt in those moments, but I can’t blame you for trying.”

How did Soonyoung get so lucky? Was this what the universe granted him in exchange for lacking a soulmate…? He wasn’t sure, but he wouldn’t trade any of his friends for a soulmate. He’d happily make do with the twelve he’d forged any day.

Okay, so maybe Soonyoung was getting in his head a little. Seokmin had just spent a  little over two weeks in a time loop because, surprise, he also had a soulmate. Which sent Soonyoung down a small spiral. According to some study out there that still needed more information to be more valid or whatever, a good portion of people who were told they didn’t have soulmates when they were ten were people who didn’t have obvious signs. Time loops, hair colors matching, lost items, sparks flying, colored footprints leading to the other person… All things that people simply wouldn’t have seen at age ten. 

So maybe Soonyoung started to dye his hair after Jihoon found his soulmate. It wasn’t abnormal, Soonyoung did like to play with his hair. It’d been a while since he’d gone bleach blonde. And maybe his soulmate didn’t care and that was why he stayed bleach blonde until his roots started to show. And maybe his soulmate didn’t care that their hair was cherry red not long after that…

And, maybe, Soonyoung was acutely aware of the date after Seokmin broke his loop. Each day followed one another as they always did, but Soonyoung swore a Tuesday felt just like a Monday once. 

And maybe, just maybe, Soonyoung lost a bracelet with his name on it. Joshua made him another one, no question, but he hadn’t found anything that didn’t belong to him (or Jihoon) in his living space. Everything was in its proper spot, just as it was supposed to be. Nothing new. 

No footprints stood out to him, and he hadn’t bumped into anyone lately that made him feel those mystical sparks that Jun once told him about. 

Kwon Soonyoung did not need a soulmate to be happy… So why did he want one so badly?

“I don’t need one,” was what he blubbered to Seungcheol one night, a week after Seokmin broke his time loop. “I don’t. I shouldn’t act like I need one to be happy because I am happy. I’ve been happy before, so—”

“It’s okay.” Seungcheol had held him as he cried. “Soonyoung, it’s normal for people to want them just as much as it’s normal for people to not. If you want a soulmate, it’s okay.” 

How was he supposed to say that now it was starting to hurt? That all twelve of the soulmates he chose in life had their own soulmates, even the ones who were convinced they didn’t? 

“Work is still bad,” Soonyoung said suddenly, still crying into Seungcheol’s shoulder. The words just seemed to dribble from his mouth now, no true thoughts behind them. “Two of the new hires took off because they found out they were soulmates and—and they wanted to get busy living life while they could. And now all of us are staying every night because we have to make up their work, and—”

He just kept babbling, sobbing as everything seemed to spill out of him. Seungcheol just held him, rubbing circles into his back to soothe him. Soon enough, all the words had dried up, and Soonyoung was just left, breathing quietly as he came back down. His head felt foggier than before. Lighter, though. 

“You’ll be okay,” Seungcheol promised him when Soonyoung finally moved away to wipe his face. “I’ll buy you dinner when you work next, okay?”

“I feel guilty,” Soonyoung said a moment later. With less thoughts to weigh him down, his feelings seemed to become more obvious. 

Seungcheol had chuckled. “You shouldn’t. I’m offering—”

“Not that.” Soonyoung let out a long sigh, tugging his sleeves down over his hands for a moment. When did he start feeling so cold? “I… I love all of you. You’re all some of my best friends. I meant it when I said I consider you all soulmates. I feel like I should be happy that we all met in this life, but…”

“We can’t fill that void,” Seungcheol said. He turned to face Soonyoung fully, arm draped over the back of the couch. “Soonyoung. I love you, but you aren’t my soulmate. There’s things I want to do with them now that I know them that I wouldn’t want to do with anyone else. I can’t call it love because I haven’t known them long enough, but… You do understand, right?”

Of course he understood. Soonyoung had dated before, after all. “I know, but—”

“None of us want you to feel left out,” he said. “If you want to date, then you should try dating again when things have calmed down.” He paused, “Or now, but I think the stress from work is getting to you too much.” Again, Seungcheol paused, mulling over his thoughts as though he needed to get them right the first time he spoke them aloud. “Soonyoung. Do you remember what you told all of us when you said we were your soulmates?”

Soonyoung had been… a little drunk that night. Most of them were. But Soonyoung had seen the videos that were taken by his friends of his drunken rambling, and he’d said a lot. “Which part?”

“The universe picked soulmates for a lot of us,” Seungcheol said, “but we still have to choose them. And you decided you would choose us.”

It was the easiest decision Soonyoung had ever made, and one that admittedly made him and a few others cry. He’d been right, though, hadn’t he? A soulmate was a person that the universe felt was perfect for you, but plenty of soulmates didn’t last. It was almost always the people who believed that just being soulmates was enough to have a lasting relationship. Soonyoung had seen people who finally reached their breaking point and ended things, always crying later because that was their soulmate. Almost always, their stories were similar to the others: they weren’t trying. It was supposed to come naturally to them. But a soulmate wasn’t a guarantee for love. All relationships, platonic or romantic or familial, needed work put into them. That was why Soonyoung knew that a soulmate represented a choice. One that the universe made for a person, but a choice that a person had to keep choosing if they wanted to make things work. That was how love worked, after all. Soonyoung had been in love before, and he had chosen that person until they couldn’t choose each other anymore. 

And he knew that it went the same for those with soulmates. Seungkwan had been with his soulmate for over a year now, and plenty of people could count the petty disagreements the two had had. They always came back together after they cooled off, talking things out like adults (sometimes with a little intervention from Chan or Vernon, but those moments were rare). Minghao and his soulmate had an actual argument not too long ago, but they’d bounced back and been stronger than before for it. Even Jeonghan, who had loved his soulmate almost his entire life, had an unfortunate spat that lasted a few days before he reached out to them and asked to reconcile. Love was a choice as much as it was a feeling. It was what brought them all back together again. A soulmate wasn’t the end-all be-all of love, but Soonyoung had realized why they all fit so well together. They all shared some sort of experience in some way, whether it be a string to connect them or losing objects. It was something to bond over, to open up the doors to choosing one another once that decision was clear. 

“Someone is going to choose you some day,” Seungcheol said, completely serious. “And they’ll be lucky if you choose them, too.” 

Soonyoung wiped at his eyes with his sleeve again, the fabric scratchy against his skin. Minghao would be chastising him now for it, pulling tissues out of his pocket or his bag depending on where he’d decided to keep them that day. That, too, was Minghao choosing to love his friend. “I love you,” he said softly. Thank you for choosing to be in my life. He wasn’t sure where he’d be without him.

Seungcheol chuckled, warm as ever. “I love you, too,” he said back, always as though it were the easiest thing in the world. Maybe, for Seungcheol, it was. 

A week later, work was a little kinder to him. His coworkers gossiped about some new hires coming into the company, and Soonyoung, truly, couldn’t care less. As long as they did their jobs and didn’t run off immediately to see the world or whatever those two were doing, he was happy. He’d given a polite nod to the new hires as they were introduced, and ignored the way the hairs on the back of his hand were standing on end. He’d charged himself with too much static upon coming in, dragging his feet as he tried to subtly push his sock back up after it had rolled down. He’d managed to discharge the static eventually, although the slight zap from the metal he touched had made him hiss in pain. It felt like a little too much, but what did he know? He had other things to worry about, like the backlog of work that still stood out to him. It’d take a few days for things to calm down for good. And, sure, the polite thing to do would be to get drinks with his coworkers… But no one was inviting anyone anywhere. Not when there was too much work during the day and everyone was exhausted by the time they all clocked out. 

“So? What do you think?” One of his coworkers had whispered to another after the new hires (a pair of people around Soonyoung’s age) had left ahead of them, having packed up quickly to catch their buses home.

Soonyoung packed up a little slower. Maybe it was wrong to listen in, but…

“Hm…” The woman hummed to herself for a moment, shifting her weight from leg to leg. “I’m not sure yet. Sungyoon seems to work hard, but the other person…” She frowned, crossing her arms as she grew still. “They’re very quiet. Like…” 

Soonyoung knew that she had just glanced at him. He’d always been the quiet one at work, the polite one who worked hard. That’s what you were like, from what he understood, too. You came in, you put yourself to work, and then politely excused yourself when you needed to run to get to your bus. Sungyoon had gone with you, not keeping it secret from anyone that the two of you were at least friends. Speaking of…

“Do you think they’re dating?” She whispered to the other. 

Soonyoung hoped you weren’t. You were… actually kinda cute? Plus he admired your work ethic a lot, even on your first day. Maybe when things calmed down, he could ask you out to coffee or something. 

“I didn’t see any marks,” the other man said, not bothering to lower his voice any further. “They could be soulmates. They clearly have a history…”

Soonyoung packed his bag and took off. He’d had enough of this. The journey home was uneventful, but Jihoon had picked up on how disgruntled Soonyoung was from the moment he walked in the door. Halfway through his vent session, Jihoon had looked at him.

“Why are you jealous? You just met them.” 

Jealous? Soonyoung was not jealous of anyone. He choked on his own words, unsure of what he could say that was actually convincing. If he denied it, then Jihoon would only believe that he was bullshitting him to try and save face. Yes, you were cute in Soonyoung’s eyes, but he’d only just met you! He’d be a weirdo if he was jealous this quickly! And you wouldn’t want anything to do with him if he was weird. 

“I’m not jealous,” Soonyoung said once he was sure he could say it casually. “I just find it weird that my coworkers care so much. They’re doing a good job.” He paused for a second, “both of them are! Sungyoon is very nice.”

Jihoon was not convinced. Nothing could convince him now, then. “Mhm.” He shrugged. “Nothing wrong with being a little jealous if they’re clearly close. Just don’t let it bother you.”

“I’m not!” Soonyoung felt his face heating up. He wasn’t. He wasn’t bothered in the slightest. It was more-so his coworkers being weird about it. It was weird to speculate, wasn’t it? If you had a soulmate, then good for you. If you didn’t, then… 

Then maybe Soonyoung had a shot.

“A soulmate?” You had looked up, the same man who’d speculated about you and Sungyoon being soulmates having shoved his nose into your business. You blinked, unsure of where this topic had even come from. “No, I don’t have one. I don’t think I do, at least. Is this a part of company business? I told H.R. after I was hired that I don’t have any signs that would prevent me from working, but I didn’t know everyone needed to know this.”

Soonyoung smiled to himself. Yeah, you tell him. It was your business anyway. 

“But what about you and Sungyoon—”

“College friends.” You smiled politely. “We live close to one another, too. I’m not seeing anyone now. Is that all?”

Sungyoon sat at his desk, watching you with this amused twinkle in his eyes. Sungyoon had the same kind of admiration for you that Soonyoung had for his friends, he was positive. He watched the way his coworker slinked off after a moment, apologizing for prying into your personal life as you returned to work. Soonyoung reached down to pull something from a desk drawer, only to feel a familiar zap the moment he did. He’d winced in pain, but it did nothing to dampen his mood. When Soonyoung relayed later the information to his friends at dinner that night, Wonwoo had watched him the entire time, all too aware of how thrilled Soonyoung seemed to be about the whole ordeal.

“Why do you seem so happy?”

Was he happy? He was, kind of. Without being disrespectful, you’d rebuffed the guy and kept most of your privacy in doing so. There were no long drawn out college stories about some adventure you and Sungyoon had while in college, no emotional moments of spilling about how you resented the fact you didn’t have a soulmate. Hell, Soonyoung had no idea how you felt about it. Were you indifferent like him? Did you have a similar situation to him, too, where you had chosen your own soulmates out of your friends?

“They were being disrespected,” Soonyoung had settled on saying. “I’m glad they handled the situation well—”

“He likes them and wants to ask them out,” Jihoon said after taking a sip of his water. “So he’s glad they’re single.”

Soonyoung shoved Jihoon slightly. “That’s not it at all!”

Jun chuckled from his seat, watching the exchange. “There’s nothing wrong with liking them, you know.” 

“There isn’t, but I don’t like them like that. I barely know them. We’ve barely even talked.” Soonyoung rolled his eyes. “How can I like someone I don’t know yet?”

Wonwoo shrugged. “I liked my soulmate before I really knew them. They seemed interesting.” 

“That’s different!” 

“Is it?” Jun shrugged. “I haven’t known my soulmate for long, but I still liked them before we started talking. They seemed nice. You can have a good opinion of someone without knowing them intimately—”

“That’s not the point,” Soonyoung said. “You’re all trying to turn this into something it’s not. I just… I dunno. When I see them, I want to know them more. It’s like they just keep pulling my attention toward them.” He paused, chopsticks in hand as he looked up. “They keep looking at me, actually. It’s kinda funny. I think they might be into me, actually.”

Suddenly, all three of his friends exchanged a look. Soonyoung furrowed his brows. “What?”

And none of them would tell him their thoughts. When he pushed further later as they were leaving the restaurant, Jihoon just waved him off. 

“You’ll figure it out.” 

“Shit!”

Soonyoung looked up at the sound of your voice, soft enough that it didn’t catch everyone’s attention. Sungyoon withheld a chuckle as you glared at him a moment later, and Soonyoung couldn’t help but keep his eyes on the pair of you. You’d wrung out your hand, reaching for your desk drawer as you started to search through it for a highlighter. Soonyoung liked the fact that you always highlighted things in pretty colors—bright green so far, but he overheard you telling another coworker, Seungmin, that you liked to switch out colors every so often. It kept things fresh, and Soonyoung found that cute. Almost as cute as the novelty erasers that you kept on your desk to decorate it, never using them since you always used pens (save for the pencil you kept exclusively for the sticky notes you attached to your computer monitor). 

“It’s not funny,” you had hissed back at him. “This place has a bad static problem… Is the air dry to you? I think dry air makes static build-up likelier.”

“It’s just you.” Sungyoon watched you curiously, glancing over to see that Soonyoung had started watching, too. 

Soonyoung watched the way he slowly reached for a pad of sticky notes, jotting something out. Then he reached forward, attaching it to the top of your monitor. You swatted his hand away, eyes flickering over to see Soonyoung just as he turned his attention back to his own work. Yet the moment he was sure you were looking away, Soonyoung glanced over to see you pulling the sticky note off the monitor. How had he avoided you this long…? Something about getting too close to you made his chest all fluttery. Had he really started crushing on you so easily? Then again, you kinda did make it easy. You were cute in your own ways, and it made it hard to focus most days. Now all he could think about was what Sungyoon had written to you. 

He’d stretched himself over Vernon’s couch that night, playing with a little feather toy that his soulmate’s cat (Nutmeg, apparently) seemed to love. She pounced at it again, and Soonyoung had, yet again, been rambling about his work adventures. 

Vernon plucked another fry from Soonyoung’s leftovers. “Dude. Kinda sounds like there’s something there.” 

“I don’t know,” Soonyoung said. “Maybe I’m being silly. I should ask them out sometime, but they’re still new. It feels weird to do it so soon.” He paused, watching as Vernon slowly began to reach for another fry. “If you’re hungry, then eat. I’m fine.” 

With permission, Vernon immediately pulled over the rest of the leftover fries. “I mean it, dude. Why wait? You like them, they seem to like you, just go for it.” 

… Maybe he would.

But probably not today. Soonyoung had woken up late which, thankfully, wasn’t too bad considering he didn’t live too far from work. Jihoon had been in the kitchen, sliding over a plate of toast when Soonyoung booked it from the room.

“You have that meeting—”

“I know!” Soonyoung grabbed two slices. He’d shove them into his mouth on the run over. “I know—I set an alarm!”

Jihoon looked up, already annoyed, “I know. It woke me up.” 

He’d make it up to him later. He yelled back a casual “love you!” to Jihoon, who only groaned in response, and booked it to the stairs. No elevator today: the complex’s elevator sucked most days, and Soonyoung always reserved it for when he was coming home rather than heading to work. He’d pulled on the wrong pair of shoes considering he had a meeting today. He needed to look nice, and he did, mostly. These were the ones that were a little too broken in, having lost traction against the office floors, and they’d lost their shine a bit. Maybe no one would notice? Hopefully no one would notice. He didn’t need anyone making a comment… or you to think less of him. Were you the kind of person who cared about that kind of thing? He hoped not. As long as you were presentable, Soonyoung wouldn’t think any differently of you. 

He burst through the front doors of the building, yelling out to where you and Sungyoon had just boarded the elevators. He saw the way the two of you looked surprised, eyes wide and brows raised as Soonyoung booked it across the lobby while no one else seemed to think much of it. It was far from the first time this had happened, to be fair: it happened back when he was new, and it kept happening every so often since. Soonyoung, unfortunately for everyone else, was the kind of person who could be loud when he needed to be. Which was good for him, because Sungyoon had taken pity on him and held the elevator doors for him. Soonyoung’s hair was standing on end now. Fuck, when did the building have such a bad problem with dry air? 

Shit, fuck, the floors were against him today. In the split few seconds he had, he’d tried to yell for you to move aside so he could crash against the elevator walls, yet his brain seemed to have turned to pudding. He felt this subtle pull forward, which he once thought was gravity as he nearly tripped over the elevator threshold and into you.

Only for sparks to fly. Literally fly. Sungyoon had crumpled to the floor in pain, howling about ‘what the fuck was that?!’ while Soonyoung only felt this warmth wash over him. You’d been shoved against the elevator wall and were clutching the back of your head (shit, fuck, he’d check on you once his brain caught up to him). Wait.

Wait. Sparks flew. 

You…?

“Dude, what the fuck?” You’d pushed him away, hand still clutching the back of your head. 

Immediately, his brain had finally started fully functioning again. “Shit!” He stepped forward, trying to get a closer look at the back of your skull. No bleeding or visible bruising, but what did he know? “Are you okay? Did you get hurt? I’m sorry, I tried to stop, but—”

“What the fuck was that?!” Sungyoon was still on the elevator floor. The doors slid shut after a moment. 

Quietly, Soonyoung hit the button for the correct floor, just to get things moving. “I… I, uh…”

You stared at him, slowly connecting the dots. “Oh.”

“Did… Did it hurt you?” Soonyoung shyly asked, only to realize he’d been vague. “The sparks.”

You shook your head. “No. But—” You looked at Sungyoon. “Sungyoon, are you okay?”

“I’ll live,” he pulled himself back up. “Of course he’s your soulmate. No wonder you two wouldn’t stop staring at each other…”

Soonyoung had felt a pull toward you, but… He always thought that was infatuation fueling that feeling. There were so many things he’d already wanted to ask you, and yet it felt… weird to say them with Sungyoon there. Were you like him? Had you given up on soulmates even though you wanted one? Or did you not care that Soonyoung was your soulmate? Would you have still liked him if he wasn’t…? He felt like he would have liked you either way, but he would never know for sure now. Then again, maybe he could be okay with not having that answer. If he got to know you better, then he could be happy. Neither of you spoke for the ride up, and he could see Sungyoon debating stopping this elevator ride early to give the two of you space.

Thankfully, he didn’t. But he did book it off the elevator once the doors opened, leaving the two of you two step off together.

“So…” You were a little quieter than normal, never quite looking at Soonyoung for too long. “We’re soulmates.”

He nodded. “Is that okay?”

That earned your attention faster than anything else. “Of course that’s okay. Why wouldn’t that be okay?” 

“I just thought that…” You didn’t seem happy. Then again, he barely knew you.

You shook your head. “Just because I’m used to not having a soulmate doesn’t mean I’m not happy it’s you. I already thought you were cute, so…”

Soonyoung shyly smiled at you, hand brushing against your own. It was enough to get you to stop and face him. “I know we have a meeting soon, but… There’s a little place across the street we could go for lunch. It’ll be my treat, if you want—”

“I’d love to,” you smiled. “I’ll look forward to it, soulmate.”

Soonyoung watched you walk ahead of him, smiling to yourself. Suddenly, he felt a new sense of confidence wash over him as he watched you go. He’d only known you for so long,  but something told him that choosing you was going to be the easiest decision he’d ever made.

(And when he told Jihoon that night, he’d called Jun and Wonwoo immediately to send him the money he’d just won for betting that Soonyoung would figure it out sooner rather than later.)

taglist: @twancingyunhao @wonuziex @synthetickitsune @staranghae @porridgesblog @weird-bookworm @bangchansbae @laylasbunbunny @bewoyewo

#wooahaes.fic #seventeen imagine #seventeen x reader #seventeen x you #svt x reader #svt imagine #svt x you #kwon soonyoung x reader #kwon soonyoung x you #hoshi x reader #hoshi x you

[missmeinyourbones]

haikyuu boys as icks

because my favorite thing is humbling men and fictional men are no exception | aot version & jjk version

atsumu:

does that thing where he "forgets to know your name" so he doesn't look obsessed with you, but in reality he just looks like a douchebag LOL he's comes up to you all nonchalant like "y/n, right?" as if he doesn't follow you on ig and like all of ur pics....and he thinks it makes him look so cool and popular and mysterious and then u look him dead in the eye and ur like "yeah, you're osamu, right?" he's humbled very quickly

osamu:

when he’s really tired or clingy, he talks in a baby voice :/ sometimes even refers to himself in the third person :/ just typing this rn is making me frown with disappointment. like yeah atsumu may be the more dramatic twin, but thats only bc he’s shameless in public. behind closed doors, osamu is right there w/ him. you find him pouting on the couch after a long day like “osamu wants cuddles >:(” or “can we make dinner together i’m hungwy >:(” big offender of the “sowwy” and “pwease” agenda. arrest him

suna:

is the embodiment of that one trend where you tell guys they look like they can’t swim and they get so unnecessarily defensive about it LOL. you say he “gives off a vibe that he can’t swim that well” and hes DISTRAUGHT...immediately whipping out all of his cards to prove you wrong like “obviously i can swim, wtf let’s go find a public pool rn and i’ll show you how good i can swim” also gets you back in such a ruthless way like “okay, but i can. and you look like you don’t know how to read.” feelings end up hurt on both ends :/

hinata:

whenever you guys go to the store, he holds up the line because he’s like “oh, i have a coupon for that!!! :)” but it's never convenient at all. it could be for the most minuscule or absurd products too, like toilet paper or ballpoint pens, and he’s digging through his wallet once you guys reach the register. like baby AREN’T YOU A PRO ATHLETE???? i think you can afford the extra $1.42 for granola bars. you bring up the idea of him having the coupon ready before he gets in line and he’s like “idk i don't wanna hold it for that long 🥱”

kageyama:

LEAVES HIS BEARD HAIR IN THE SINK AFTER SHAVING. oh my god, i am making myself angry rn. you rinse it out every single time and when you ask him if he knows what happens to all of his little trimmings, he’s just like “idk....i guess they just evaporate or slide down over time” when you literally clean up after him like a maid :I he makes me sick (inspired by that one tiktok of the oblivious husband and knowing wife)

bokuto:

doesnt understand politics so he just labels himself as “non-political” which comes across as him just being douchey :/ it makes him look so ignorant when he first tells you :/ like a man who thinks he’s too good to be socially and politically aware bc it doesn't affect him / when in reality, politics just really isn't his forte academically and he’s never learned the basics of it :/ because he is really smart ok i stand by this!!!! he’s a scholar and a college grad...he just only focuses on his areas of interest. take a gov course baby expand ur horizons

akaashi:

if you ask him those silly hypothetical relationship questions (the ones where you just want him to say something sweet, something that proves he loves you) he is not having it in the slightest. you ask him “would you still love me if i was a worm?” and he’s deadly serious like “no? one, that's not even possible. two, if i’m ever attracted to a worm then i need to be constrained and arrested. three, i think that’s really wrong for you to expect me to seamlessly deal with that big of a transition in our relationship--” and you have to be like OH MY GODDD OKAYYYYY IT WAS A TEST!!!  AND YOU FAILED!!!

kuroo:

millennial core LOLLLLLLL im sorry. he posts a pic of him after he gets his hair cut and captions it “just did a thing! :P” EWWWW my toes are curling rn. he takes his selfies from the highest mom facebook angle and does the signature middle aged white man smirk. if he ever films a video of himself it’s so cringy bc he does the millennial zoom in and talks as if he’s a movie protagonist. attends a single work meeting and claims he’s “adulting 😂” at the ripe age of 27

oikawa:

when he really likes you, he does that thing where he's like "you're just not like other girls/people!!!! you're so different!!!!!!" you do basic human things like don't constantly wear makeup or eat whatever you please and he's like "i love how you can be so real around me, you're so quirky <3" you shave your legs or do your hair and he’s like “baby you don’t have to do all of this for me!!!!” he’s never touched a woman in his life. self unaware king 

iwaizumi: 

swears that period cramps are not that bad and that people who get periods over-exaggerate to make men (or people who don’t get periods in general) feel guilty about not dealing with them. believes with his entire chest that “getting kicked in the balls” is equivalent to the pain of childbirth. one day you jokingly buy one of those period cramp simulator machines and hook him up to it. he's all “i’m gonna be fine babe” and “it probably just feels like a stomach ache”.... he doesnt get past the 3rd setting and is holding back tears when you finally turn it off 

#hq x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq headcanons #haikyuu headcanons #atsumu x reader #atsumu headcanons #osamu x reader #osamu headcanons #suna x reader #suna headcanons #hinata x reader #hinata headcanons #kageyama x reader #kageyama headcanons #bokuto x reader #bokuto headcanons #akaashi x reader #akaashi headcanons #kuroo x reader #kuroo headcanons #oikawa x reader #oikawa headcanons #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi headcanons

[nishik1]

bittersweet \\ Nishimura Riki

synopsis: being in a relationship with Nishimura Riki was never easy, but you still made it work.

pairing: idol niki x non idol fem!reader

genre: light angst to fluff

warnings: reader is a bit mean, slight arguing, cursing,?

a/n: a short fic to make up for the lack of updates in “you jealous, nishimura” 😭 this kinda sucks so please don’t be disappointed

wc: roughly 1.4k (NOT PROOF READ)

you awoke to the sounds of knocking on your bedroom window. what the hell..? furrowing your brows as you make your way over to the window. lazily you throw open the curtains and your eyes widen for a second as you process who is waiting outside of your window.

“Riki..? what are you doing here?” you said in disbelief as you stare at the boy who stands beneath your bedroom window with his hands on his knees, hunched over as he tries to catch his breath.

“please just— let me in first—” he says breathlessly. you stare at him for a second before letting out a sigh. hesitantly, you open your window further and lean out just enough for him to grab onto your arms and pull himself up. his eyes light up when you reach to him, he immediately grabs onto your arms and comes tumbling into your room.

theres a moment of silence as you watch him sit on the floor of your bedroom, still trying to catch his breath.

“so… are you gonna tell me why you’re here or are you just gonna sit there?” you cross your arms over your chest, slight annoyance present im your tone. Riki feels his heart clench at your tone, you only ever talked to him like that when you’re angry with him.

“I came to explain myself” you let out a bitter chuckle as you narrow your eyes at him.

for context, you and Riki had a date today. In fact it was supposed to be your first date in a while since Riki’s been quite busy being an idol and all. you both had decided to go to this new restaurant which opened recently, your date was scheduled for 7:30. you had arrived on time but Riki? Riki never came at all. you had messaged him multiple times only to get no reply, hence why you were mad at him. you waited for 2 hours straight and he never showed and now he’s here in your bedroom?

“seriously, Riki? that’s all you came here to do?” he frowns at this, he could tell in your eyes that you’re annoyed and angry with him. I mean who wouldn’t be? he showed up in the middle of the night unannounced.

“I know I should’ve told you—“

“you should have just told me the moment you found out you were going to be busy!” your voice cracked slightly as you inhaled sharply before continuing

“Riki you and I barely get to spend any time together anymore and the one day we actually had plans to see each other, you flaked on me!” you said feeling more hurt than angry, the two barely got to see each other with how busy he was but today he was supposed to be free.

“I know and I’m sorry… I never wanted to flake on you but we had to do some filming today and—“

“Riki I don’t want to hear it, It’s been like this for months. we never get to see each other anymore and whenever we think we might have time you always get busy with something!”

“I know that and I’m sorry for that too but I can’t help it if my schedule changes. I’m an idol, Y/N. It’s my job and sometimes this is what idols have to do. I know I don’t have as much free time as I used to but I have to do these things, they’re important to my career!”

“what about me? am I not important?” both of your eyes widen at this and you saw hurt flash through his eyes. you didn’t mean to say it, you didn’t want to say it, it just slipped out.

“I never said that.” he grits his teeth in annoyance. though he was annoyed he was also hurt. he was hurt that you thought you didn’t matter to him, of course you matter to him, you’re his girlfriend!

“no but you implied it. Riki you never make time for me anymore!” you run your fingers through your hair, feeling frustrated with everything going on.

“god why are you like this? my whole life can’t revolve around you, this is my job Y/N!” he raises his voice slightly. you inhale sharply and you pull your gaze off of him and to the wall behind him.

“I never said it had to revolve around me. all I’m asking for is for you to just make an effort to see me.” you lower your head as you feel your tears betray you and begin well up in your eyes.

please not now. you can’t cry. not now. you think to yourself, digging your nails into your palm.

you had been feeling like this for so long, feeling as if you didn’t matter to him. at the beginning of your relationship, everything was good. you were both happy and saw each other almost everyday. well that was until the group Riki was in began to grow more and more popular. the dates which you used to have daily started to happen less and less. it went from daily, to every other day, to weekly and eventually to none at all.

it started to feel as if you were no longer relevant in his life, like you no longer mattered to him. you were angry and his words only fueled your anger more. you’ve been bottling up these feelings, trying to ignore and hide them as best as you can but its starting to become too much to bare.

“you think I don’t try? I’ve—“ thats it. this was your breaking point. his harsh words finally pushed you to your limit.

“well it doesn’t seem like you fucking try! Riki I can’t take it anymore, can’t you see how draining this is for me?” one by one hot tears began to trickle down your cheeks as you finally let out the feelings you had been keeping in for so long. his eyes immediately soften as all the anger he had towards you dissolved into guilt.

“oh Y/N… I’m so sorry.” he cups your face with his hand, gently wiping your tears as you lean into his touch. how long has he been hurting you for? how long have you felt like this? how can he make it up to you? would you even forgive him? a million questions raced through Riki’s mind as he pulled you into a tight hug, resting his chin atop your head as a few tears escaped his eyes.

“I’m sorry too… its just— i miss seeing you in person. i miss your hugs, I just miss you... i’m tired of seeing you through a screen.” his heart clenches at your words as you mumble into his chest, your breathing uneven from crying.

“I’m sorry, I’ll try to make more time for you i swear. my schedules just been so packed lately, i was supposed to be free today but they needed us to—“

“its okay, you don’t have to explain— just… just stay with me.” you bury your face in his chest, hugging him as if this was the last time you’d ever be able to. your tears betrayed you as they began to drip onto his shirt.

he badly wanted to tell explain what happened and why he was unable to attend your date today but he knew that all you needed right now, was for him to stay. to stay and make up for all of the lost time you two could’ve had together, to stay and comfort you the way he should’ve before and most of all, to stay and show you that he loves you.

“I’ll stay with you as long as you want me to.” you felt your heart sting at his words, but not in a bad way. in more of a “i love you so much but i’m still mad at you” way.

you shut your eyes tightly trying to prevent any more tears from falling. you’re not even fully sure if your tears are happy or sad ones perhaps both?

“I love you..” your voice is quiet but still loud enough to hear as you raise your head from his chest. teary eyes locking with his, Riki’s gaze softens at you as he brings his hand to your cheek caressing it gently.

“I love you too”

its the moments like these which remind you of why you fell in love with Nishimura Riki. with Riki, disagreements dissolve into peaceful silence and all you can feel is the comfort of resting in his embrace, where worries melt away and all that is left is love. it’s moments like these which make you fall in love with him all over again.

you think you’ll forever adore the moments like these, even if they’re bittersweet.

taglist: @rksbae @lizzyyaaaaaa @berry-and-kkami @chaewon-slays @solstramaii @infi0 @beomgyusonlywife @misoxhappy @ramenoil

#nishik1 #niki enha #riki enhypen #enhypen riki #enha niki #niki enhypen #niki fluff #enhypen nishimura riki #niki angst #kpop angst #niki x reader #ni ki x reader #ni ki enhypen #angst to comfort #enhypen angst #nishimura riki angst #riki nishimura x reader #nishimura riki #riki nishimura #niki nishimura #nishimura niki #ni ki angst #ni ki #enhypen #enhypen x reader #riki x reader #enha x reader #enha riki #enha x y/n #enha angst

[ranhaitanisgf]

May I request Ran with “enemies/rivals to lovers” where Ran accidentally hurts reader (with his words), he goes too far. Usually they tease and make fun of each other but this really hurt y/n, maybe it was one of her insecurities. Anyways, he makes it up too her by taking her “star gazing” and apologizing to her. Thanks!!!!!!!!

— ran haitani // enemies to lovers // stargazing

☆ ˎˊ˗ did i go overboard. well yes. but i chose this one in honor of changing my username ! im in love w this man ur honor. srsly tho i loveee writing the silly little banter with the ran fics its actually so fun :D hope yall enjoyyyy xoxo

☆ ˎˊ˗ fem!reader implied

☆ ˎˊ˗ wc ; 2.0k+

masterlist || 2k masterlist

you’re not exactly sure what’s going on right now. 

one moment, you were lazing around your apartment, watching a drama and eating all the junk food you could see, and the next moment you were slung over ran haitani’s shoulder. 

what?

if you’d known that answering the door would have resulted in this, you would have just ignored it. 

“you stupid motherfucker!! let me down right now!!” you yelled, wiggling around trying to escape. ran’s grip around you was iron tight, making it next to impossible to try and get out. “can you just leave me the hell alone?! i was watching my drama!!” 

“nope.” 

“god, you’re such a douchebag sometimes.” you sighed, feeling defeated. there was probably no way you were going to escape back to your apartment if you hadn’t by this point, so you gave up. “what do you even want from me?? i thought you said you don’t like to talk to girls who are nerds ‘cause they freak you out or something.” 

“...”

“are you even going to tell me where we’re going??” 

“...”

“ran haitani!! answer me!!” ran said nothing once again, completely ignoring you as he exited your apartment building. as he kept walking, you heard the faint rumble of an engine, the rumble getting louder as he kept walking. 

finally, his grip loosened around you, though you were a bit caught off guard by how gently he let you down from his shoulder. his hands held you steady by your waist as you stumbled a bit, feeling a bit dizzy from being upside down. 

“ran, seriously, what’re you doing…?” you muttered, brushing his hands off from you. “it’s like 9pm! why are you here?!” 

“get on.” 

“what?” you got no response, instead watching as he settled himself in the front seat of his motorcycle, which you now realized was the cause of the rumbling sound. 

“are you going to get on?” ran asked, turning his head a bit to look at you. you think that your big mistake here was looking him in his eyes; when you saw the emotion and turmoil swirling in his hazy purple irises, you couldn’t help but to oblige. 

“fine, but only ‘cause you’re acting weird. if someone breaks into my apartment, you have to pay for everything since i know you didn’t lock the door.” you muttered, getting on the back seat of his motorcycle. 

you waited for the bike to revv up and for him to start driving, but he paused for a moment, seeming to be thinking. after a moment, he turned around and reached behind you, searching for something in the back compartment. that same cool expression was on his face, making you feel a bit dumb for feeling so flustered at the sudden lack of space between the two of you. for crying out loud, his face was right next to yours! how was he so calm? 

you couldn’t help but notice that he had foregone his usual braids, instead leaving his hair down. the way that his hair framed his face now covered the sharpness of some of his facial features, making him seem a lot less intimidating and more soft than he normally was. 

he let out a small hum when he found what he was looking for, leaning back from you holding a helmet in his hands. he gently put it on your head, looking at you for a moment longer than was probably necessary before turning back around, his back to you. 

what the hell…

as ran started drive off, you realized that there was a con to him having his hair down; as he started to speed up, his hair whipped right in your face, making you sputter as you tried to avoid it. 

“if it’s bothering you, come closer.” you heard him say. you had no idea what kind of face he was making right now, though it was probably the same cool and collected expression as always. what did he even mean by that? does he know how suggestive he sounds? 

as much as you didn’t like him, you also didn’t like having his hair continuously assaulting your face, so you scooted a bit closer to him. as he said, it was a little bit better, though his hair was still getting in your face. 

you were finally given a break at the next stoplight, giving you a moment to take in the cool night’s air. despite the strange circumstances, you had to admit that being on a motorcycle always gave you a sense of comfort in some kind of way. you enjoyed feeling the wind on your face and seeing everything passing by; it made it seem like nothing else in the world mattered except for that moment. 

suddenly, you felt yourself being pushed forward a whole lot more than was considered ‘friendly’. your chest made contact with ran’s back, your head awkwardly propped near his shoulder. looking to the side, you realized that ran had hooked his arm around your back and had pushed you forward, which you found to be somewhat of a feat considering the distance between the two of you, (you supposed he had his lanky arms and stature to thank for that). 

“hey! what the hell was that?!” 

“just helpin’ you out, doll.” 

“whatever.” 

despite the flippant way you muttered the word, you could feel the nervousness all bundled up inside you, twisting your stomach into knots. you weren’t sure what to even think at this point; what was he even trying to do here? last time you’d seen him…

“you freak me out when you talk like that; you’re really gonna be single forever if you keep acting like that.” 

so what the hell was he doing now? why was he suddenly acting like nothing had happened? 

although your thoughts were troubled by his strange behavior, you felt a bit awkward just leaning against him like a noodle, so you hesitantly wrapped your arms around his waist, keeping your grip loose. there were no words exchanged between the two of you for the rest of the drive, which gave you plenty of time to try and decipher his odd behavior. 

you weren’t sure how much time passed before ran pulled over to the side of the road, slowing down and coming to a stop. your arms unwrapped themselves from around his waist and you leaned back, looking around. 

he had brought you to a quiet part of the sumida river, the land around you slowly dipping until it met with the edges of the river. looking around, you couldn’t see any part of tokyo or any city buildings closeby, making you wonder just how far away he had taken you. 

“hey, where are we right now?” you asked, getting off of his bike and stretching a bit. “it feels like we came kind of a long way.” 

“i just followed the river for a bit. we aren’t too far from tokyo.” ran answered, flipping the kickstand down as he got off his bike. he pocketed his keys and slipped his fingers through his hair, fixing it a bit after the wind messed it up a bit. 

“so, are you going to tell me why we’re here?” 

“come on.” ran walked in front of you, walking down the steep grassy hill towards the river. you reluctantly followed, jogging a bit to catch up with his long strides. 

“y’know, with the cryptic way you’re acting, i could think that you brought me here to murder me or something.” 

“...” 

“uh, ran? you’re not actually gonna murder me, right?” 

“no.” 

“okay, right.” the two of you reached the bottom of the hill, standing there for a moment before ran laid down. you were unsure of what exactly was going on, but you laid down next to him, getting a bit worried. 

“hey…did something happen? is everything alright?” you were facing the sky that was littered with stars, but you could tell that ran was taking a moment to think before saying something. 

“you could say that.” 

“huh? what-?” 

“you’ve been avoiding me, haven’t you?” 

“...” now you were the one who was silent, unsure of how to respond to his question. he was right; you had been avoiding him. it wasn’t his fault that you had gotten butthurt over what was supposed to be a joke, but you hadn’t been able to help your feelings. the two of you joked and insulted each other all the time, so why was it that you were so hurt over that one comment? 

you already knew why, but you weren’t going to tell him, not in a million years. 

“you know i didn’t mean it.”

“i don’t know, maybe you did.” you answered flatly. “i don’t know why you even hang out with me. i’m always wondering if you’re gonna just up and leave one day and never talk to me again.” 

“i wouldn’t do that to you.” 

“you can’t say it’s not outside of your character though, can you? you’ve done that to other people, no?” 

“it’s different with you.” you laughed coldly at that, choosing to ignore it. 

“why are you even bringing this up right now? why come all the way here to talk about this when we could have just talked outside of my apartment?” you peered over at ran, feeling a bit infuriated to see the same damn expression on his face as always. 

“am i not allowed to do something to try and apologize?” he asked, suddenly sitting up and looking towards you. “you’re right that i’ve done that to other people, but you’re not other people. you…” for the first time, you saw his face screw up in frustration, eyebrows scrunched together and lips pressed together. “fuck…you’re just different, okay? i felt like shit after i said that crap, and i felt even more shitty when you started avoiding me. so-” he took a breath, his face going back to his usual calm expression. “-i’m sorry.” 

what. just. happened.

for a longer time than you would care to admit, you laid there staring at him with your mouth wide open, wondering if you were in the real world. to be fair, how were you supposed to believe this was real? the ran haitani, apologizing? to you? 

“you…you’re not fucking with me, right?” you questioned, sitting up slowly. 

“...no.” ran murmured, his gaze fixed on the river in front of you. “i can take you back home now, if you want.” 

“no!” ran quirked an eyebrow at you at your sudden response, his violet gaze turning to you. “i mean, uh, it’s fine. i like it here.” ran smirked a bit at your explanation, laying back down. 

“y’know doll, if i didn’t know any better, i would say that you’re nervous right now. why’re you nervous, hm?” the teasing lilt to his words made your cheeks feel warm, making you lay back down to avoid his gaze. 

“you think i’m nervous? i’m not nervous, i don’t know what you’re talking…about…” your words tapered off as ran moved closer to you, his arm slipping under your frame and pulling you against him. he tucked your head under his chin, his arm moving to rest around your waist. 

“hm, i guess you’re not nervous then. what a shame. you’re pretty cute when you’re nervous~” the close proximity allowed you to feel the vibrations of his voice rumbling through his chest as he spoke, making your heartbeat speed up exponentially. 

“what…what do you think you’re-?”

“shh, look at the stars. that’s why i brought you here.” for some reason, his words immediately shut you up, your emotions being too extreme to say anything snarky back. all you knew at that moment was ran; his voice and the teasing tone he always has, his hair that’s splayed all around him making it seem like he’s an angel, his lazy purple eyes that are looking at you right now despite him saying to look at the sky. 

“you-”

“shh.”

you supposed that you could just look at the stars for now.

#東京リベンジャーズ #東京リベンジャーズ x reader #˗ˏˋ𖤐 tokyo revengers ˎˊ˗ #˗ˏˋ𖤐 hana’s 2k event! ˎˊ˗ #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #tok rev #tok rev x reader #tr #tr x reader #tokyo revengers x reader fluff #tokyo revengers x reader scenario #tokyo revengers x reader fluff scenario #ran #haitani #ran x reader #ran haitani x reader #haitani ran x reader #ran x reader fluff #ran haitani x reader fluff #haitani ran x reader fluff #ran x reader scenario #ran haitani x reader scenario #haitani ran x reader scenario #fluff #scenario #anime #manga #anime x reader #manga x reader

[moondirti]

DEE IK THIS IS SO OFF THE BAT BUT IMAGINE RIDING MIGUEL’S ABS??!;!;?:?:? WHATS UR CRUMB ON THAT BCS IM LITERALLY ASCENDING INTO HEAVEN JUST BY THE THOUGHT OF IT😩☝🏼

SUMMARY: after the events of DOUBLE RAPTURE, we follow Mig back home and explore his less than ideal relationship with his world's version of you.

explicit (18+) | 1.5k words

part one / can be read as a standalone! WARNINGS: smut, ab-riding, handjobs, codependant relationships, submissive (?) miguel, ANGST, fear of commitment (on the reader's part), implied parental issues, drinking, anxious/avoidant attachment styles NOTES: did this take me forever to respond to? yes. have i been thinking about it every day since i received it? also yes. please have a little drabble as a sweet treat for your genius mind, anon. sorry i took it too far

This is how it is with Miguel.

Buttressed on a leather couch that isn't so much leather anymore, but cotton dotted with the flakes of black suede that've managed to hold on through the years since you bought it. It's old, unstable – somewhat an apt metaphor for your relationship to the man – and stands situated across a television with no cable. He shows up at your door on any unannounced night, where for once you wish he'd catch you with plans pre-made, and intrudes on your vain attempt to connect the old screen to your neighbour's internet.

And it's ironic that you should end up watching dated cartoons anyway, stuck inside your apartment that is a fraction the size of his, because he always opens on some variation of the same line – the very thing that woo'd you all those years ago, when you were younger and prone to any man's charm:

What's a pretty thing like you do in a place like this?

It's dark outside – night-worn inhibition being one of the main constituents to poor decision making – and his skin gleams golden in the dim lamp light. You can't refuse him for all your rationale on why, so he comes in and you pour a strong drink whose hangover tomorrow will take precedence over your guilt. He drinks too, perhaps to make your eventual rejection easier, and the two of you make-out on that tumbledown couch until your lips turn blue.

Sometimes, he comes up for air – only when he gathers enough courage to break away from you – to whisper filthy nothings and little promises on the shell of your ear. Neither are empty, you know. Miguel’s good at making good of every word when it comes to you. The push and pull gets to him, fuels his gears until he’s pouring proper work into making you happy. From what you can physically face – gonna have you creaming on my cock, cariño – to prospects that remain ever-frightening – wanna stay like this forever, you on my lap, sharing our home. 

You’ve never had a reference to ‘our’. Commitment remains a fickle thing for you, instilled by parents who didn’t have the mind to give it. He knows as much, but you don’t think he understands just what keeps you around regardless. What keeps you at the door, waiting for an acknowledged three-knuckle knock. None of the in betweens, flowers, nor the heights you reach spread-eagled underneath him. It’s always just been exactly that – his return, done every time without fail. 

(And there’s the ever-negging fear that one day he’ll grow sick of the cycle. 

On one hand, you hope he does. It hurts him more than it does you, and you hate to watch him leave. Yet on the other, more volatile hand – you pray he fucks you so well you forget your reserve, that he breeds and carries you away from this hole you’ve dug yourself in.) 

For now, though–

For now, you lift the shirt off his frame. He’s let his chest-hair grow since you met him last, and if you strain to remember, he’s gotten bulkier. Abs more pronounced, with pecs that bounce when you graze your nails down his side. It’s refined, a look that makes him appear older. You swoop down to lick his neck, moaning hotly once you reach his mouth. 

“You been working out, Mig?” 

“For you, hermosa. Figured you’d like me better like this.” He groans, kneading the flesh of your thighs. His fingers dip into the waistband of your underwear, snapping it on your skin in an explicit plea to take it off. 

“And who told you that?” You say, acquiescing, working the lacey strip off your hips. Your cunt sucks at it, belligerent in letting go now that it’s soaked the fabric through. 

“A couple I met. They remind me of us.” His head follows yours when you draw away from an attempted kiss. It’s unintentional, done to stand off and strip completely, yet his reaction to it sends little tremors of pleasure to your core. “Of what we could be.” 

“Shhhh.” Once you’re completely bare, tits freed from your tank top, you straddle him again, a little higher this time. His waist is cinched enough to allow you to do so with little fuss, tendons at the top of your thighs aching only slightly. “Make me feel good, please.” 

“Of course.” 

His thumb presses down on your swollen clit, holding it in place while you arch your back and trap it underneath you – sandwiching it between your mound and his midriff. The pressure is electric, charged to fervency, buzzing as it lights every nerve ending from your waist below. And three thrusts forth and back see to it that he’s slick, lubed with the juices that gradually seep from your needy slit. 

The sight, the sensations, the thought that he’s putting effort outside of this room for you – they all make you exceedingly weak. Your legs wobble, practically jello, spine made out of sand and unable to support you fully. Miguel stays firm, one large paw squeezing your breast and the other at your pelvis. You’d ask him to help, to move you against him until you see stars, but a stone lodges in your throat and prevents the words from finding clarity. 

It’s guilt, of that you’re familiar, but for a number of things; the fact that he would help you seek pleasure in spite of his own – his erection left abandoned under the confines of his pants. The idea of desecrating his hard work, those muscles made pronounced, with your filth without fully appreciating it first. For everything, everything, and it’s so crushing that you stop moving altogether. 

“No, no. C’mon, pretty. Keep going.” He begs, pelvis thrusting up with need. You shove your arm behind you, seeking out the zipper keeping him from you, palming his hard length with clumsy assurance “Don’t worry about me. Wanna feel you cum on my abs. Gonna lick you clean after. We have forever if you’d let me. There’s no rush.” 

No rush. It’s far from the typical Miguel sentiment, and you blink in perplexed contemplation. But he just grins, brows knitting up with reverence. 

“Did these people also teach you to take your time?” You struggle to say patience, because he’s always been patient with you. 

“Something along the lines.” He mutters, suddenly sheepish. His fangs always intrude when his tone is quiet, like they’re intentionally making him difficult to understand. He knows he’s special to you when you try to decipher it nonetheless. 

“Don’t be making me jealous, now.” You taunt, dipping to bite his lip. It’s fun to pull up, up, until he whines and shoves you harder onto him. Achingly empty and close to cumming on his abdomen alone. Slowly, you start to gyrate again, riding unrelenting sinew. And in the meanwhile, you manage to get his zipper undone, sneaking your hand beneath his briefs.

“I’ll explain lat… later, p-promise.” 

“I don’t doubt it. F-Fuck,” Somehow, the pleasure is simultaneously heavenly and not enough, this little game you decided to engage in tiptoeing the line. He’s good even when he isn’t trying, just laying there, pinching pebbled nipples with enough callousness that it aches in the best way. On your first date – which wasn’t really a date, but a happenstance meeting at your father’s shady bar – he’d been hesitant to hurt you like you wanted. The best he could do was pepper your neck with sore hickeys, pocketed in the back alley, touch kinder than any you’d experienced before. “Oh my god.”

“Y-You’re so soft. My gorgeous girl. So soft and… and pretty when you do that.”

“Mig.” You wail, useless in properly pumping his pulsing cock. It’s all you can do to palm the head, smearing prespend all over his velvet tip. And it’s hard, like smelted iron, throbbing hot and heavy. It’s been so long since you’ve had it in you that you’re sure it’ll take some effort to fit. The abstraction fills you with desperation so poignant that you start moving faster, rougher, seeking an end where you’re stuffed full yet doing nothing to actually achieve it. 

That is, until–

“What do you need?” He asks.

Your hole clenches. Your guts knot together. Your orgasm gathers, full and sloshing wet, trapped behind the wall he’s been breaking down since his arrival. 

“You!” You finally admit. “You.” Softer. 

And when you cum, soaking his middle with shameless indulgence, all he does is flip you over to settle beneath him. The couch rocks with the sudden upheaval, threatening collapse, so he keeps a firm hold of your shoulders, kneeling between your quivering thighs. His breadth bobs from over his pants – you don’t recall taking it out – purple with restrained pain and just waiting for your cue to allow him entry.

“I’ve got you, cariño.” Miguel hums, positioning himself onto the divet of your cunt when you give a frail nod. “I’ve got you.” 

And you know, of course you do. He’s never backed away from a promise before. Because that is how it is with Miguel.

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara fanfic #spiderman 2099 #miguel ohara #miguel atsv #miguel spiderverse #thirt #drabble #smut #x you #x reader #x y/n #x f!reader #x female reader #spiderman: across the spiderverse #across the spiderverse #spiderverse #spiderman #atsv #༄dee answers #angst

[hotsingledragon]

i have another request. PLEASE

miles fucking his silly little pregnant wife who’s just so needy for him and his touch, poor baby is too swollen to even be able to touch herself so he takes care of her n fucks her nice and slow, overstimulates her until she’s squirming and crying underneath him and doesn’t know what she wants because of how bad she has baby brain :(( miles just loves taking care of his little angel

hhhnnnmnnm

UM..!!! hello you’re crazy for this- because eeeeeeep! miles would totally take care of you during this special time in your lives, in any possible way he can! andYES sweet kitty husband occupies 95% of my brain actually-

miles quaritch x pregnant!fem!reader

warnings: explicit sexual content, smut, pregnancy, obvs there is sex while pregnant, oral, p in v, sweet baby daddy husband quaritch <3

Q would lay you down on the pillows and take you apart slowly, would kiss across your skin and especially your large bump <3 he’s so gentle because he doesn’t wanna hurt you or the baby!

im theorizing that miles would love eating you out; esp while you’re pregnant. i don’t care what y’all say! he would rest your thighs on his shoulders, leaving wet kisses on the underside of your tummy as he trails towards your clit. then his lips are wrapping around it, paying close attention to nerve in languid swirls and suckles. miles loves bullying his head between your thighs, drawing his tongue in wet shapes over your pussy. and when you burst with a moan, your head jolts to look at him, but your bump conceals everything except his hulking shoulders holding you open

he always makes sure you come at least twice 👍 but if you’re not too sleepy or you’re still aroused then he keeps going, loudly sucking you into his mouth until you’re bucking into his face and coming on his mouth again.

sometimes penetration feels like too much; and that’s okay! Q is happy to relax between your legs and fuck you with his tongue, or his fingers. miles draws it out every single time, slowly working you open with a single fingertip, until he’s eventually curling three of his digits inside your stretched little hole.

but there are also times when you need more more more because all you want is for miles to spend his time fucking you open on his dick, your arousal reaching new heights as your hormones are all jumbled up!

i feel like he’s definitely one to tease while you’re pregnant, always blaming the baby for his touch that’s only flirting across your skin, because he needs to go easy on your sensitive body or something like that. when it’s actually the total opposite- he’s purposely reducing you to a whimpering mess for his own hedonistic pleasure. he wants to see that frustration in your tightly pinched features, wants to hear the edge in your voice as you beg for him.

so when you grab his wrist and look up at him with wet eyelashes, whining about how you need more of him-he’s happy to oblige.

miles is the kind to tease you with the tip until you’re loosening up and taking him easily with how slick you’ve become. he thrives on your frustration, the high pitched whimpers and wiggling hips. you look like an angel, you must be an angel, he thinks. you’re so beautiful, and he’s never felt a passion like this until he met you

and now you’re full with his baby? god, he’s so sick with love! he admires every bit of you and how you’ve changed over the months; you’re softer, and warmer, and so much needier. it makes him fuck you that much harder.

you can’t help it, you’re begging for his cum, begging him to give you another baby.

“aww don’t cry, darlin’, i’ll give you another soon enough, y’gotta be patient for me, alright?” and he’s grinning ear to ear, eyes glowing.

“i’ll give you all the babies you want, honey, we’ll have a little litter of ‘em, hm? you want that?” his thrust are picking up to a pace that has you clawing at his biceps and your voice scratching with need.

“gonna keep you knocked up with my babies, keep my little wife full of my cum all the time,” you’re nodding your head fervently and pleading incoherently. it makes him chuckle and he sends a hand to rub over your clit.

“my sweet little wife, love you so much. so pretty while you’re cryin’ on my dick. i’ll give you those babies one day. jus’ need our little girl to come home first. just a few more weeks,” he grins and kisses you. “but when you’re all better, i’ll give you another baby-and another, and another.” his voice begins to strain breathlessly as he quickly approaches his orgasm

his words have you keening and squeezing around his erection. your moans are downright pornographic, and he knows you’re just seconds away from coming. “fuckin- christ!” miles grinds behind his teeth, “tell me where you want it, right now” he orders you lowly, his brow furrowed in concentration in his effort to keep from coming.

“mm!- inside! miles, please! please come inside of me,” you sob, clenching around him , pleading as you gaze right into his eyes. it sends miles burying into your heat and curling over your body, his forehead knocking into yours. you’re wrapping your arms around him, keeping him close and put your lips to his ear

“please give me another baby, miles,” you cry. your touch pets over his velvety skin before cradling his neck and guiding your lips against his.

it’s like you’re in a bubble that miles has curated just for the two of you. he’s covering your body with his own, echoing your sweet noises with his drawn out groans against your lips. he’s shoving his tongue into your mouth, stuffing you with his cock-it consumes every bit of your mind and body and you’re coming with a loud whine, squeezing around him like a vice and he’s immediately following you over that edge, hips flush with yours as he fills you with his seed

he finishes with a deep rumble from his chest, holding himself up by his forearms to keep from totally crushing you. and miles stays like that, buried inside of you as his dick softens and you both catch your breath

you’ll lay together, his head on your chest and your fingertips tickling his skin. when you tap his back with a small sound, miles will look at you, totally relaxed and a grin starting to stretch his thin lips. he’ll kiss you, long and slow and murmur how much he loves you to distract from his cock pulling out, but the drag of it still leaves you feeling empty.

then miles is climbing out of bed, groaning dramatically before he bounds towards the bathroom. “lemme draw you a bath, hon’,” he says. you’re only half awake, eyes closed and humming noncommittally. you listen to him shuffling, adjusting the knobs on the tub, and the scent of your soap wafts into the bedroom.

the combination is relaxing and has your breaths slowing. eventually you feel miles graze your skin, trailing lightly as to not startle you. then he’s hugging you, taking a long breath through his nose as he nuzzles into your neck. “hmm, y’ready?”

you’re nodding your head, and he’s lifting you like you barely weigh anything. he’s so careful and conscious of how he holds you and safely lowers you into the warmth of the water. then he’s climbing in behind you, and some of the water spills over with his big he is.

it makes you giggle, and he’s immediately wrapping his arms around you. “what’s funny, huh? i’m just a man tryna take care of his very pregnant wife,” but you hear the smile in his voice. you allow yourself to lean into him, head tilting against his chest as he gently rubs your swollen belly.

notes: UMMMM okay wow i took way too long to write this, can you tell i’m in love with him? thank you so much for the request! thank you for trusting me with such a prompt as this- hope enjoy my loves! let me know what i should write next <3

#colonel miles quaritch #miles quaritch #avatar the way of water #recom miles quaritch #miles quaritch x reader #avatar imagine #avatar smut #brainrot #request