#I mean the girls are mentioned at the end so yeah

[esotericcangel]

your boyfriend clark who flusters easy ★ .ᐟ

tags/warnings › kissing, insecure/inexperienced clark, smut (not super explicit), fingering, dirty talking, mention of p in v, fluff.

it doesn’t surprise you when clark finally peels off his shirt, all 6’4 of muscle and brawn, his broad shoulders enough to make you salivate on command.

it doesn’t surprise you when he lifts you with ease, laying you—not throwing—laying you down on the clean smelling duvet of his bed, gentler than anyone could’ve guessed, as if you’re a fine china doll in a shop and he’s the bull who’s trying so very hard not to break you.

however, it does surprise you when the first words that come out of his mouth are—

“what.. what now?”

it comes out all breathy and labored, effortlessly sexy, but also in that sort of confused, puppy dog way, the curled ends of his dark hair flopping like a dogs ears. and you can’t help but let your brows furrow, propping your body on your elbows, looking up at him as if he’s got three heads.

you’re both half naked, flushed with arousal and with the clear intent to… well, have sex, and he says, ‘what now’?

as if sensing your obvious confusion, he gives a light shake of his head, his own expression crumbing slightly like he’d said something wrong. he pounces to restate.

“i—i mean, ive just never..”

“is.. is this your first time or something, clark?” you’d been dating clark for four months now, and he didn’t tell you he was a virgin?

“no! no, no what? no, i’ve had sex before,�� he splutter out, his face growing two shades redder than before, his obvious fluster making you giggle. it makes the corner of his lip tug up a bit.

“i just.. i haven’t done this.. a lot. maybe two or three times? i don’t want to mess this up.”

and those three little words are enough to make your face break out into something empathetic, a slight frown tugging at your kiss bitten lips. ‘mess this up.’

“clark,” you coo, voice comforting, hand reaching up to cup his cheek. “you could never mess this up. i like you. a lot. nothing could change my mind, you hear me?”

he nods, leaning down a bit more, the sheets rustling under his big arms, his lips brushing the center of your palm, leaving a little kiss. just like a puppy nuzzling its owner.

no words have to be exchanged further before you and clark are kissing again, less hungry and desperate than before, but more passionate and tender, the gentle smack of lips emanating through the room, the rustle of duvet fabric audible under your touch as clark shifts to hover above you.

gentle kisses turn to even gentler touches, and it’s like all of clark’s previous apprehensions have melted along with the crease in your brow, the slickness between your thighs coating his middle and ring finger, that squelching noise that is often accompanied with the pumping of his fingers playing like a broken record.

your orgasms crests before you can even say his name, washing over your body like a pleasurable buzz, like the feeling of a hot shower on a cold day, or the reprieve that is clark’s touch. his works you through it, mouthing at your throat at collar bones, muttering sweet nothings.

“so, so pretty baby..”

“yeah? like that?”

“good girl…”

and all you can do is whimper, lips forming around nonexistent words, the muscles in your thighs jumping and a faint flush crawling up your neck as the night evolves into something sweeter, something you’ll never forget.

your first time with clark.

a/n › wow i haven’t written is sooo long. anyways i hope you guys enjoyed this little blurb i got some motivation to write! sorry i haven’t been writing much just in a bit of a slump lately.

[driftd0ll]

okay I have SO many ideas with eddie and volt but this one I thought of for quite a while bc this ending does things to me.

hate endings. they are SO sad to me in this game and make either mad, sad, or heavily disappointed in myself.

HOWEVER, WHEN IT COMES TO EDDIE AND VOLT??? suddenly its like niagra falls in my pants and my panties are soaked BAD.

so I propose: hate/make up sex with eddie and volt (taking turns on getting their frustrations out on reader)

ESPECIALLY with the way eddie cusses like it turns me on so bad. I used to not be an eddie girl like when I played the demo before the full game released, past me HATED EDDIE’S GUTS. played the demo to see what type of options is the way to make him open up to me to get the love ending cuz I loved them (I fell in love at first sight with volt hes so fine I wanted that cookie man)

full game came out? I FELL IN LOVE WITH EDDIE DURING THE ROUTE. VERY MUCH ENEMIES TO LOVERS. he said some sassy or rude shit? trust and believe I said sum slick back too cuz boy u NOT finna talk to me like that, but I managed to love him and his wannabe emo, mysterious ways.

im so fucking sorry for this long ass yap but u get my point im so in love with them its so concerning

SO YAH, HATE/MAKE UP SEX WITH EDDIE AND VOLT. maybe they had a bad argument with us or something and it results in that days or perhaps a week later (to calm things down and not to piss them off anymore then you did so you can properly communicate and work things out)

IM SO SORRY FOR YAPPING IN UR ASKS IM SO SORRY 😭✌️

i think you were in my mind bruh😭😭 i think CONSTANTLY about makeup sex with them!! coming back a week or two after getting the hate ending. lord knows Volt is a protective bitch and won’t let you near Eddie until he calms down and you explain you just really want to make it up to them, how bad you feel… Especially if everything was going swimmingly at first, and seeing how sad and desperate you are to make it up to them, who’s he to refuse? He can feel how down and pent up Eddie has been!!

(also never apologize for yapping!! this was a really good idea and i was hoarding it in my drafts for days, i hope i did it justice🫶)

Makeup Sex with Eddie and Volt

warnings; nsfw/18+, 3sum, Volt is kinda mean to you? (idk i’m still trying to play around with it, idk how mean to make him w/o being ooc), blowjobs, deepthroating, fingering

The way Volts' fingers sink into your dripping hole has you hissing, well it would have had your mouth not been filled to the brim with Eddie’s cock. The male in front of you is biting the inside of his cheek, his hand buried in your hair.

“Quite the pretty girl,” Volt mumbles, ��Isn’t she, Eddie? At least she’s got that.”

You’re honestly surprised he had heard you out at all when you’d come back to the Breaker Box. Honestly, he was going to kick you out, but you were quick to explain how you wanted to make it up to them. The guilt on your face was enough to make him pause at least, long enough for you to continue- How you’d do “anything” to make it up to them. You were thinking of cleaning the bar for them or something of that nature, doing the unsavory work that they care for doing themselves!

Volt looked amused and irritated in a way that made you shrink in on yourself when you mentioned maybe helping with the bar, Eddie looked unimpressed, “We might not like that work, but we’d rather do it ourselves. You can make yourself useful in other ways, if you feel so bad about it.” Eddie nods in agreement, still a bit wary of talking to you.

“Oh, um.. Yeah,” You pause, embarrassment written all over your face. Of course, you’d be the last person they wanted fumbling around in their club. Your mind was racing, “What’d you have in mind?” Although you already knew what was going to happen, you pressed your thighs together anxiously as heat filled you, biting your lip just enough to come off as suggestive as you looked up at the two men.

“God, her mouth,” Eddie rumbles as you let out a muffled moan, nose buried in his pubes and against his lower abdomen, hallowing your cheeks while straining to look up at him. One of his hands rests on the top of your head, guiding you up and down the length of his dick. “I didn’t even have to ask you to open up, did I? Shit…” Volt lets out a noise, amused and above it all as he continues fingering you with a cruel rhythm, it’s deep and makes you feel like he’s trying to pick you apart from the inside, but it’s so, so goddamn slow.

The long-haired male tilts his head, bending down to kiss along your spine with a deep chuckle, “Do you think we should forgive you? You hurt us a lot.” He pauses teasingly, listening to your muffled whines, “What do you think, Eddie? I’m not so convinced she deserves that yet.”

“I-“ Eddie grunts when you suck harder, glaring down as you look up at him, “Fuck, whatever. I’ll forgive her as long as she keeps me down that fuckin’ throat.” Volt sighs, rewarding you with a fast crook of his fingers, making your back arch. You allow yourself to become absorbed in pleasuring Eddie, relaxing into Volts’ skilled hands as he massages the deepest parts inside of you. The room is filled with the almost rhythmic wet sounds of your cunt being played with and your throat being fucked.

A whine resounds from deep within your stuffed throat as Volt unceremoniously pulls his fingers out with a wet sound. The sound of a zipper makes your ears perk up, wiggling your hips in hopes of enticing him. The only thing you’re met with, however, is a small but sharp shock to the ass and a chuckle that makes you clench around nothing. “No, no- don’t be stupid, now, and keep still. Eddie may be willing to forgive, but you haven’t quite earned that from me.” He isn’t looking for any answer, busying himself tapping his cock along your folds, sliding against them. “You’re soaked.. Did you come in here like this, hm? For us, or do you come crawling back to everyone you make a little mad, offering yourself up in exchange for forgiveness?”

“Slutty thing,” Volt mutters, one hand firmly on your hip while the other one aligns his cock with your hole. Eddie had stopped thrusting, gripping your hair to keep you from moving your head up. After a minute of teasing- Volt pushing the head just barely inside before pulling away again, tapping against your clit meanly— he finally thrusts in, a groan ripped from his throat.

Eddie, who’d been watching intently, hisses when you gasp in surprise, gagging around his cock as you try to pull away. He doesn’t let you, gripping the back of your head tighter before petting your hair, muttering through gritted teeth, “Nuh-uh, take it. You said you would, remember? So you’re gonna fuckin’ take it.” He wastes no more time, forcefully bobbing your head again, timed with Volts’ harsh and merciless thrusts to ensure you’re always full.

Between the two of them, your mind feels foggy, like your thoughts are being fucked out of your brain- Leaking out every time Volts cock bullies your gushing walls, or when Eddie stuffs his down your throat. The knot building in your lower stomach is tightening, swelling until it feels like you’re going to explode in a hot mess, and the male behind you can tell.

Volt’s grip tightens as his cock pistons in and out, groaning loudly. A small shock to your as has you tightening around him, “Fuck,” he curses, his usually smooth voice rumbling through gritted teeth, “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

Eddie makes a guttural noise, bunching your hair up at the base as his own thrusts become sloppy. It’s hard to focus on any one thing, but deep in the crevices of your mind you manage to realize that Eddie is close, sucking obscenely, harshly while burying your face into him. You reach with one hand, then two, to grab his thighs- having to deliriously trust you’re not going to fall as you pull him closer, moaning as Volt continues fucking your dripping cunt. Eddie tilts his head back, adams apple bobbing as he swallows thickly as you choke around him, “God, you gonna swallow? let me creampie that throat?” He snorts as you gag and moan, rolling his hips further into you, “I might just skip the ‘ignoring you’ part next time you say some stupid shit, go straight to this instead. I’ll have to switch with Volt though, let him get a taste of that mouth…” Eddie trails off, flushed.

The three of you fill the room with wet, sloppy noises, curses and grunts falling almost animalistically from their lips. They’re speeding up, racing to the edge and you’re not far behind- Moaning around Eddie’s thick cock as you cum, black filling your vision for a second as your pussy spasms intensely around Volt. You try to pull back momentarily, but Eddie grabs you and harshly thrusts inside again, crying out freely as he fills your throat, causing you to sputter and tear up before greedily drinking the thick, salty substance down while he finally pulls out.

This is the first time since they started that your mouth has been free of cock, hoarse cries falling from swollen lips as Volt pushes you down into the bed, keeping your ass up. The long-haired male is quick, his thrusts becoming more shallow as he works on pushing himself over, keeping your body still despite its twitches in overstimulated protest.

“Volt,” you babble, near incoherent and raspy, “Please!” The male hisses, speeding up until shooting up your fluttering insides with his cum with stuttering hips. “Shit, fuck, yes! Pretty girl, such a greedy goddamn pussy-“ You don’t quite understand any more of what he’s saying, but it makes your already sensitive hole clench as he continues cursing, slowing down before slowly (very slowly) pulling out.

Volt pants quietly, hands gliding to massage the tender fats of your ass as he watches his cum dribble out and down your thighs. So messy.

Eddie is still in front of you, sitting back and stroking his half-hard cock. He’s recovered fairly fast since painting your throat white, watching intensely as Volt continued screwing you silly into their shared mattress. You’re not so quick, twitching and mumbling into the sheets as Volt rubs your skin- The parts he sent a spark to, however small, in the heat of the moment almost apologetically, although Eddie knows Volt is anything but.

A few more fucks like this, and they may think about forgiving you fully. They’re not so stupid as to not realize you’d meant it when you said you’d do anything for them to forgive you, and they’re no so stupid as to not play into your little bribe.

[n3ptoonz]

'Rock and a Hard Place'

Pairing: David McDougal/Detective!Reader

Fandom: We Own This City

Warnings/tags: Smut; Explicit, fem reader, plot, undercover work mention, jealousyyy, reader is more rigid but still has a personality (totally not self indulgent guys), dialogue heavy, kiss and make up, fuckin in de car, subtle dom/sub dynamics, confessions kinda?, half proofread, im a fucking GENIUS with the ending bro. stop playing with me.

as a baltimore native i had to write for him are you kidding😮‍💨 also finished the season while writing and hello??? the plot is so good 😭 they really executed the story well

also um this is the first time i ever used the word cock in a fic so laugh along with me ty

Word count: 3.8k+ (DAMN.)

David walked through the station's halls with ease. Casually greeting people as he walked by with a file in his hand. He had a bit of a smug expression already but his smirk only widened the second he knocked on your office door. Once he heard you tell him to come in, he walked in and closed the door behind him.

He slipped the manila folder onto your desk. "Heard you got the case." he said as you looked up from your computer at him, then to the file. He sat in front of you when you started to look through it, a raised eyebrow at the information about your cover.

"I know it's a solo cover but I'll be overseeing the first night." he added, chin in palm now. "Guess you got the clear for that ankle, huh?"

"Sure did." you responded, still skimming the page. But he just rolled his eyes with a sigh and said your name. Your eyes met his with a blank expression because you knew where this was going.

"Always the tough guy." he mused with a simple shake of his head. David had been giving you shit about it for two months. Why? Because you were restless. You were the type to come into work even if you had the suds. Still training like normal. Still walking around like normal--for the most part. It worried him, this much is true, but he liked to mask it by making comments about how you never seem to sleep.

"I take that as a compliment."

"I'm sure you do."

You narrowed your eyes and leaned forward on your forearms in suspicion. "Did you craft this cover?" you asked in an accusatory tone.

He gasped dramatically and put a hand over his heart. "What would make you say such a thing?" he says as he tries really hard not to laugh at your unamused look. You lifted the document and snapped it straight in your hand.

"'Marie. 30s. Artist. Charismatic. Carefree. Persuasive. Party girl.'" you read the info off with a deadpan tone, emphasizing the last part with enunciation to show your distaste. David was clearly holding back a laugh. "Something funny?"

"In my defense, Davis had more hands in this than I did. What’s wrong with a little adventure? A little... change?"

You just kept staring at him. He knew you didn't take change very well...which was quite reflective on what you two had going on before but! But...that still didn't mean him taking joy in having to do a case as someone who's the complete opposite of you was any less annoying.

"You mean to tell me that Davis would purposely give me a role this ridiculous? My cover as Tonya wasn’t even close to this."

"Uh, yeah, because you were tricking that architect guy that had a thing for older women."

Your brows pinched together with a head tilt to follow. "You calling me old?"

"Me? Oh, no, never. Okay maybe in this case, but-"

You cut him off and pointed to the door behind him. "Get out." He raised his hands in defense and chuckled.

"Hey, hey, I’m kidding, a little joke. Aging is a blessing. Especially in this field."

You rolled your eyes and put the file back into the folder before checking out the details on the suspect. "You are full of it."

"You know it. But hey, as long as the average person isn’t operating like you, longevity is in their future."

A beat of silence hangs between you two like a live wire. You slowly looked up at his anticipating gaze before you pinched the bridge of your nose. "I know you're prompting me to ask whatever the hell that means."

"So...ask." he proposed, watching you gesture for him to continue. "You didn't ask-"

"What does that mean, David?" you, irritably, asked with already tired eyes.

"What I was talking about earlier. I mean, you were out for a month and a half because you refused to stop training on that ankle. I think you forget you’re human sometimes."

Your hands raised in confusion at his ongoing sentiment. He refused to let this go and you never understood why. It wasn't the first time you'd keep moving like everything is fine either while injured or not doing the best.

"The sprain wasn't even that bad-"

"-Exactly my point." he interrupted. David might be a little shit sometimes but he genuinely does care. He hasn't stopped even after your little fling.

"Alright, I don’t come to work for you to play shrink. Shoo. I was sorting files before you got here."

"Ah, ah, not so fast. Boss sent me over to help you out with getting this cover right."

"...meaning...?"

"You read the file. You’re supposed to be a charismatic, carefree, party girl. The complete opposite of you now."

"I think I can handle pretending to not have a care in the world, thanks."

You flashed a quick, thin lipped smile before going back to your computer. David scoffed before scanning your desk. When his eyes landed on a pen you usually use, he simply moved it to another part of your desk. All this to watch your eyes follow the pen sharply.

"You sure about that?" he asks as you sigh and shift your eyes back to him.

"Point taken."

"Just loosen up a little. Like that time we went to Ernie’s, out In Pikesville."

"You mean when you got so drunk I had to nurse you back to health?"

He cleared his throat and folded his arms. "Before that." he couldn't help but flash those dimples a little at your silent smile of triumph. "You remember."

You shrugged and leaned back in your chair. "It's hard not to. They were playing the classics."

"Yeah, well, that was the first and last time I saw you dance like that. If even at all."

"You speak as if I am anti fun."

He gave you a look.

"What?"

"I blame our unit for giving you such rigid covers." he said with a feigned look of disappointment.

"Whatever. You want to help or are you going to keep calling me boring?"

"I'll help you stop putting words in my mouth."

"Uh huh. What's the first order of business, boss?"

"Getting rid of that sarcasm to start. How about that pub that just opened a few blocks down? After work."

"That small one out in Woodlawn?"

"Correct."

You considered his proposal with slow nod of understanding. Part of you felt like he was up to something while the other was telling you to just do it. This could be fun and maybe even actually help with preparation for the case. You hadn't gone out with him one on one in years but...hey, you're both adults. Nothing wrong with hanging out with a friend, right?

After making him wait a full ten seconds, you gave in. "Deal."

His eyes never left yours as he smiled and stood up to shake your hand.

"You're on."

-

It was a quarter after six when you pulled up to the pub. David was checking his watch and waiting outside when you walked up to him. You didn't look that different since you had on a similar leather jacket with a different shirt but you did look more relaxed. The outside of the place actually looked nice. The pretty neon signs and bumping music that could be heard right outside the door made the idea of pretending to be something you're not a little more appealing.

"Look alive, pretty boy."

His eyes met yours before shamelessly trailing down your body, doubling back at your hips. An eyebrow quirked at the nickname you haven't called him in a while. "You're late."

You hummed and leaned in closer so it was sure he didn't miss your remark. "I call it 'carefree.'" you winked and walked into the pub. This earned a tongue-in-cheek from him as he followed you inside.

Inside was exactly what you expected. A cozy, homey little bar on this side of the county. Some people were dancing and cheering on the live singers while the other half was chilling at the bar. You were getting a funny feeling of deja vu at the sight. When that was you in the middle of crowd dancing with David just because.

"Look familiar?" he came up behind you and handed you the drink of your choice. Of course he remembered. "There's always something special about lowkey places like this. Especially in Baltimore."

"Baltimore." you corrected. He was mid-drink when he glanced at you. "The T is soft."

"Baltimore." he repeated.

"Bal-d-imore." you said slowly and took a swig. "'Baldimore'."

He finally pronounced it the same way you did with a playfully mocking tone as he looked into your eyes. You gave him a little smile and raised your glass with a wink. "There you go." you said. He lingered on you for a bit with a soft chuckle as he swirled the drink in the glass.

"Don't give me that look." you added with a squint.

"What look?" he asked as he took a swig. He was doing that puppy dog longing look he did religiously years ago, admiring the view like a bad habit.

"That look you have when you want to say something but are waiting for me to ask what's up." you replied with your brow raised.

"I'm doing no such thing."

He definitely was.

You hummed and looked back out at the small crowd to avoid those kind, yet mischievous blue eyes of his. You knew what he was doing and you tried to avoid it the best you could. It was better this way, you thought. Not getting caught up in a potential workplace romance that would get in the way of actual work but he seemed to disagree. Besides the few times you've hooked up in the office. And he always knew how to get you to crack...you're not going to let it happen again.

-

The outing went great. You loosened up a little and you got the stamp of approval from your annoyingly fine ass coworker. It really did serve you well since you've been back and forth from the station in and out of disguise. It was nothing like your colleagues had seen before. Showing more skin, smiling wider, even giving yourself an accent just for the hell of it. All for the suspect you were tricking to get enough dirt on him to take in.

But it's been a little iffy lately back in the office. You'd been either coming back to work or first thing in the morning with a completely different attitude. Like, 'immediately noticeable' by everyone different. More particularly by David.

It was already a month in that he hadn't been vocal about it--which was out of character because he usually is vocal about everything--because you were taking in as much information as possible from this guy about a week in. You nailed your performance to a T, which made David perhaps...a little weary.

Albeit by the third week he was making small comments or jokes about it but left it there. There was this weird feeling in his chest every time you came back with more eagerness to get right back out on these fake dates - sorry, hangouts.

The last straw was when you thought aloud about potentially going to that pub with the guy. David didn't say anything at the time because he didn't want to sound jealous or make it abundantly obvious what he was feeling about this. About you.

He kept mentally scolding himself because he felt like a hormonal teenager who couldn't let go of something he never had. Someone he never had.

It was nearing the end of your shift, so you finished up a report, saved it, then logged out before grabbing your change of clothes. Then came a knock and you told them to come in.

David walked in without his usual energy, and to make matters worse you were already packing up to go. Makeup already done and your dress shirt half unbuttoned to reveal your cleavage. Another thing he's only ever seen on those off days without a soul to catch you two in the act. And now you were just, what, going to walk around like that?

"You heading out?" he asked while walking up to your desk, hands in his pockets to seem nonchalant about the situation. You didn't even look his way as you replied.

"Yep." you said as you checked your phone for a notification that didn't come yet. He was really trying to keep cool but your dismissal kinda hurt. Just a bit.

"Can we, uh...like, talk real quick?"

You looked at him and set your work bag down onto your chair. His change in tone didn't go unnoticed. "Sure..." you said with a hint of skepticism. "I have time before I go get more information on this guy. What's up?"

"It's about that, actually." he said. "About him."

A large part of you wanted to act like you didn't know where he might take this. And he was starting to give you that look again. "What about him?"

"I'll just be honest," he began with a sigh. "It's starting to feel like you're falling for this guy."

You gave a long blink. "Pardon?"

"It's not just me who thinks this." he added with raised his hands. "You've been very different since you took the case."

"David, you literally gave me pointers." you noted with an incredulous expression on your face. "I'm just doing what you suggested."

"Yeah, and you were going to test that at the place where I gave you said pointers."

"And?"

"And?" he repeated. "You can't just do that!"

"Why the hell not? Who are you to tell me how to run this case?"

"As many times you've gone undercover, we have never seen your entire demeanor change within a week. You like the guy. Just admit it."

"You're being ridiculous." you scoffed and slung your bag over your shoulder. "And don't say 'we' like this isn't a you problem."

He scoffed back and folded his arms. You technically weren't wrong...

"I just don't like that you're considering taking him to a place I showed you." he retorted but ended up sounding more childish than he thought.

"What difference does it make?" you started to raise your voice. His eyes widened in genuine surprise at your question and not understanding what his problem was. "If you have something to say, you should say it." you continued with a gesture. "Go on."

He just stood there and stared at you with those unintentional guilt tripping eyes. The last thing he wanted to admit was he still had feelings for you, as if he was any good at hiding that fact. Especially when it came to being around you. With a defeated sigh, he shook his head and waved it off.

"Forget it." he said softly. Your phone chimed shortly after. It was a text from the guy telling you he was on the way to a bar he mentioned during the last time you hung out. Before you allowed yourself to feel bad about leaving David hanging, you huffed in pride and headed towards the door with a mumble sarcastically under your breath.

"You seem to be doing a great job at that."

You walked out and let the door shut behind you. David stood there as he processed your words, brows furrowing while they echoed. He didn't take too kindly to that remark.

He bolted out your office with purpose. Was he supposed to give a fuck if this guy, a literal suspect, had to wait on you? Absolutely not! He was out the door walking through the parking garage when you unlocked your truck and called out behind you.

"Hey!" he said, prompting you to turn around. "The hell is that supposed to mean?"

You rolled your eyes and got into the drivers seat, setting your bag in the passenger seat. He gritted and made his way to open the door and moved it so he could sit. Your eyes flashed in annoyance and shock at him.

"Are you fucking crazy?"

"I'm not fucking crazy. You know I hate when you brush me off like I'm not talking to you!"

"I brushed you off because you're acting fucking crazy, David."

"Just say you're not feeling the guy and I'll let it go!"

"You and I both know that's not true! But if I was, what the hell were you going to do about it?"

His mouth opened and closed as he didn't have a comeback for that one.

"That's what I thought."

"Oh, give me a break."

"Get out of my car, David."

"No."

"You're acting like a child."

"I don't care. You're not going out with him."

You paused and turned to him slowly. "Are you, like... jealous right now?"

He scoffed and averted your scrutiny with his head shaking. "Now you're being ridiculous."

He absolutely was.

"If you're not jealous then get the fuck out of my car."

"I'm not getting out of your car."

"Oh my God." you rubbed your temples and slumped against the seat with a bitter laugh.

"Your guy can wait." he said, quite stubbornly too.

"You know what? Fuck you, David."

Now his eyes were on your side profile as he leaned on the door's armrest. "Fuck me?"

"Fuck you!"

"So, that's how it is?"

"Yeah. Fuck you." you repeated for the last time. The fire in your eyes burned into his gaze the second you finally looked at each other. His eyes narrowed ever so slightly as he clenched his jaw, eyes darting to your lips.

"You wanna make out?" he asked in a lower tone. A quiet gulp from him broke the silence subsequent to his question. It was stupid. Why would he even ask that? He really was the one being ridiculous yet he could never help himself around you. No matter how hard he tried to forget those late nights you kept to yourselves. He was frozen with nervous anticipation at what you would say or if you were deciding on how to chew him out for asking that.

However, he had you between a rock and a hard place. Were you really going to indulge in his bullshit just because he won't outwardly say how he feels about you? Miss out on this mission and potentially have to fill out more paperwork later? Keep that man waiting and have to think up a good excuse for why you flaked?

Yes. You were.

"I do." you said, tone matching his. He had it push down the stunned look he almost gave. A curt nod followed from both of you and then, alas, you met in the middle. Your bag was carefully cast aside to the backseat when your lips met. A dance you knew too well. A kiss that was only shared after hours in a vacant office. You pulled back for a moment to readjust and crawl into his lap without bumping into the horn.

His hands knew your body nearly better than yours did. He moaned when he felt you grind your hips down onto his already growing erection, fingers squeezing your ribs to make sure this was real. You whimpered into his mouth at the feeling of them unbuttoning your slacks and sliding them down your legs with ease.

"So much for rigid." he murmured softly against your lips. You shrugged off your jacket and tossed it with your bag, but kept your shirt on.

"You ever shut up for more than five seconds at a time?" you asked while reaching between your legs and undoing his jeans, eyes still boring into his. He smirked and let his finger play with the band of your panties.

"Only when occupied." he whispered and leaned in for a kiss. His breath caught when your hand found his shaft and pulled his dick out from the warm confines of his pants.

"What was that?" you also whispered while stroking him. He inhaled a quick breath and leaned back, shaky hands on your waist.

"Pleasepleaseplease-" he hissed as his jaw tightened. "Not like this."

"Not like what?"

"I don't wanna cum this early." he said between his teeth and looked at the ceiling. You hum and teased him by dragging the tip against the cloth that covered your slit. He bit back a whine and you could just laugh.

"Lower the seat for me."

He did exactly that.

"Did you miss me, David?" you asked while still dragging him against your heat. "I want you to be honest with me."

"I did." he just barely choked out. "I've missed this with you for years just- please-"

"Was I just a fling to you?" you sat up so contact was lost. His gripping hands trembling.

"No. God, no, but I knew what it was between us and we didn't want it to get in the way of work or whatever and- I dunno, but I've been thinking about you nonstop since- Fuck!"

You managed to shut him up as you enveloped him inside. He shuddered and took a deep breath while the memory of those warm, wet walls trapping him came back to him in a flash.

There was no time to think as you rode him like he owed you money. David wasn't focusing on a damn thing. Covered breasts bouncing in his face while the woman he never got over took his cock like a champ. He didn't want anybody else. Not a single woman after you has met the standard, and boy is he glad he ran after you out that office.

He was close. Real close. Damn you and your skilled hands almost milking him for all he had before he even got to fuck you. But man, he loved that shit.

He stuttered your name with his eyes closed and jerked his hips upwards in desperation. "I'm gonna- fuck, I'm gonna cum." he strained. You leaned down and tongue kissed him a few times, backing up with a spit string breaking between you.

"Me too." you said and licked your lips.

"If you don't want to be a mother in the next two seconds, you should probably- yeah-"

He pulled you off him by the hips and just let it out. An ensemble of moans leaving his lips as your climax hit a second later, leaving a mess all over the crotch of his jeans. You kissed him again while both your bodies twitched in each other's hold. A text notification flashing on your phone completely disregarded in the cup holder.

"You coming?"

[starkeygirl114]

Baby daddy Rafe x shy reader

Warnings: toxic relationships, cursing, past trauma, pregnancy, possessiveness, narcissist, mean girl vibes, Abuse, physical and mental abuse, mentions of blood, weapons, Ward Cameron (yes he’s alive in this story 🥴, past drug abuse, mentions of drugs, rehab, alcohol, being drunk/high, teasing/ poking fun of friends, Mentions of cheating, mental health mentions, anxiety, angst, crying, vomiting ( I’m sorry 😣) smut 🙂‍↕️

18+ read the warnings. If the warnings are too much for you do not read!!

authors note: I’m gagged with this one it’s messy as hell enjoy 💖

Fair warning this part does contain Ward Cameron

Part 5 1/2

As the day ends and the shock of the race wears off, I lay there holding Keegan as he sleeps.

Is Rafe really capable of being the father his son needs—and deserves?

Am I making the right decisions when it comes to my son?

My thoughts spiral well into the morning. The sun begins to rise, casting a soft glow across the horizon.

Keegan sleeps peacefully, his little lashes resting on his cheeks.

My whole world, bundled into one little boy.

He’s my biggest and greatest blessing.

When Keegan finally wakes up, we sit at the table eating cereal.

“Baby, I wanna talk to you about something,” I say, gently fixing his hair.

“Okay, Momma,” he answers, spilling milk on his chin.

“How are you feeling after yesterday? I know you were scared… and I’m so sorry you felt that way.”

He looks down, thinking hard before answering.

“I was scared for Daddy. He could have hurted himself.”

I reach over, wiping his chin.

“Well, Daddy’s okay. He’s not hurt—no boo-boos.”

“Yeah, boo-boos are not fun. Can we call Daddy?” Keegan asks hopefully.

As Keegan calls Rafe, I silently hope it’s a good morning—because after the last couple of days, I honestly can’t take much more.

Rafe answers, and he sounds cheery enough.

With plans to pick Keegan up shortly, we start getting ready. While we wait outside in the garden, Keegan wanders toward the bell peppers Auntie Kie’s been growing.

A car pulls into the driveway.

Rafe.

He sees us in the yard and approaches the garden cautiously, like he’s expecting a sneak attack.

“It’s okay, Rafe. No one’s awake but Keeg and me,” I say, meeting his eyes.

He doesn’t say anything—just nods—and gives his usual quiet hello. Keegan keeps digging around in the dirt.

“He loves digging,” Rafe says softly, smiling as he watches his son crawl around.

“He’s probably looking for bugs. That’s his favorite thing to find,” I reply, watching him.

He turns, catching me staring. I quickly look away, but it’s too late.

“You like what you see, huh?” he teases in a flirty tone.

“Please, Cameron—don’t be so full of yourself. I was looking at the cut on your eyebrow and lip,” I say, rolling my eyes.

“You should really make sure you clean that.”

Rafe laughs and steps closer.

“I mean, if you wanna play nurse, I’ll be your patient.”

My eyes go wide.

“Rafe, are you okay? Clearly, you hit your head,” I say sarcastically.

He laughs—really laughs.

“I’m okay. Can’t keep me down.” He pauses, then adds, “About yesterday… I know it was—”

Rafe’s never been the type to admit when he’s wrong or apologize.

“It’s fine. It happened. Can’t change that,” I say, shuffling my feet.

“There’s a cookout or some shit at Tannyhill today. My dad wants me there. I don’t know why I’m even thinking of going,” he says, looking down.

“Oh wow, I didn’t realize you and Ward even talked enough for him to invite you back there,” I say softly, not wanting to ruin the moment.

“I guess, not really. It’s just small talk here and there. But he called me yesterday and brought it up,” he says, watching Keegan still digging around.

“I mean… it’s free food and drinks. I’d go if it were me,” I say with a smirk, trying to lift the mood.

Rafe turns and stares at me for a beat.

“Let’s go. You, me, and Keegan. I’ll drop you back home after.”

“What?” I blink at him.

“Yeah. Let’s shake it up. Plus, like you said—free food and drinks.”

“What about Sofia?” I ask, stunned he even brought this up.

“She’s with her family or something. I don’t know,” Rafe shrugs, totally unbothered.

“Are you actually being serious?” My jaw drops.

“Yes, I’m serious. I want you to come with me,” Rafe says, looking straight into my eyes.

I try to process everything—his mood, this conversation, how he’s acting like yesterday didn’t even happen. And now he’s just casually inviting me, like we’re still… us. After dropping the bomb that we’re not.

Before I can respond, Keegan comes bounding over.

“Are you ready to go, Daddy?” he asks, clinging to Rafe’s leg.

“Yeah, buddy, I am—as long as Mommy’s ready,” Rafe says, glancing at me.

“Mommy, you’re coming to Daddy’s house?!” Keegan looks between us, wide-eyed, confused—but clearly thrilled.

“Uhm… I guess. Grandma and Grandpa Cameron are having a cookout, and your dad invited us to it,” I say, looking at Keegan, still unsure myself.

“You want Mommy to come with us, right?” Rafe asks as he picks him up, and I swear I see that smug little spark in his eye.

Using Keegan as leverage? Dirty game, Cameron.

“Yes! I want Mommy there! It’ll be so fun!” Keegan says, arms tight around Rafe’s shoulders.

“Okay then. It’s settled—looks like Mommy’s coming with us,” Rafe smirks, shooting me a look.

I don’t even bother arguing. Not when both sets of those icy blue eyes are on me—that’s my kryptonite.

As Rafe takes Keegan to the car, I rush inside to grab my purse. Thankfully, the house is still quiet—everyone’s snoring, so I don’t have to explain the mess I’m about to walk into.

Slipping back outside, Rafe is waiting by the passenger door.

“The door for you, miss,” he says, holding it open with a mock bow.

I just stare at him for a beat, heart pounding, knees slightly weak. What the hell am I doing?

The drive to Tannyhill is smooth. Keegan’s in the backseat, singing along to the music, blissfully unaware of the tension up front. I watch the world roll by out the window, then glance over at Rafe. His jaw is clenched, knuckles white on the steering wheel.

“Hey,” I say gently. “It’s okay. I’m here. If Ward starts anything, I’ll cuss him out, and we’ll leave.”

I smile, trying to lighten the mood.

“It’ll be like old times.”

Rafe glances over at me and smirks. He’s not totally relaxed, but a little of the tension leaves his face.

As we pull up to the house, it hits me—this is strange. Being here with Rafe, about to face Ward.

Must be a full moon tonight, I think.

The times I do show up at Tannyhill to pick Keegan up from Wheezie, I keep it quick. In and out. But today, I need to be brave. No backing down—not even from the ghosts that haunt this house.

Keegan runs ahead of us, giggling.

“Are you sure you wanna do this?” Rafe asks, staring up at the front door.

“I’m ready if you are,” I say quietly.

He doesn’t respond right away. Just stands there, breathing, trying to steady himself.

Rose opens the door before either of us can knock.

“Rafe! It’s so nice to see you—I’m happy you could make it. And my sweet grandson,” she says, smiling as she reaches out to touch Keegan’s hair.

Keegan hugs her tight. “Where’s Auntie Wheezie?” he asks, already taking off into the house.

Then she turns to me—and her expression shifts. She’s clearly surprised to see me standing there beside Rafe Cameron, of all people.

“Oh my God—what a lovely surprise,” Rose says, pulling me in for a hug.

“I’m happy you’re here.”

Rose and I have never been the best of friends. So either she’s genuinely thrilled… or she popped hella Xanax before this lunch

Walking through the house toward the backyard, Rafe makes a beeline for the bar cart. He pours his first—of what I’m sure will be many—whiskeys and downs it in one sip. Without missing a beat, he refills the glass.

“I needed that,” he mutters, catching me watching him.

Stepping outside, the air feels heavy. Ward is standing at the grill, Rose by his side, whispering something in his ear. He turns slowly, his eyes locking onto Rafe’s.

“Rafe. It’s good to see you,” Ward says, voice clipped.

“Yeah, you too, Dad,” Rafe replies stiffly, standing close to me.

“I see you brought a guest… and the little guy,” Ward adds, glancing down at Keegan, who’s now hiding behind Rafe’s legs.

There’s a pause—silent and tense. Ward and Rose both look us over, like they’re trying to piece together what’s really going on.

Thankfully, Wheezie bursts out the door.

“Hey, Rafe. Hey, Y/N! Is the food almost done?” she asks, giving me a quick hug before turning to her dad.

I feel Ward’s eyes by me. I glance up and catch him and Rafe staring at each other, some unspoken standoff simmering.

Finally, Rose breaks the silence.

“You all can go sit at the table. Food’s done—it’ll be served shortly.”

Rafe picks up Keegan and turns to head back inside. I stay frozen for a beat, still locked in Ward’s disapproving gaze.

“Y/N, you coming?” Rafe calls back, nearly at the door.

“Huh? Yeah,” I mumble, shaking myself out of it and hurrying to catch up.

At the table, Keegan sits beside Wheezie, while Rafe and I sit across from them. Ward and Rose take their usual places at each end of the table. Dinner is served—way more food than I expected, and surprisingly really good. We eat mostly in silence, the only real noise coming from Keegan giggling with Wheezie.

A staff member brings Rafe another whiskey. I stick with water.

“So, son. How’s business going?” Ward asks, taking a calculated bite of food.

“It’s good. I’ve got a few things in the works,” Rafe answers, eyes on his plate.

“Darling, can we not talk business at the table, please?” Rose interjects with a polite smile.

I just focus on my food, minding my own business. Then, out of nowhere—

“So… are you and Rafe back together?” Ward asks, turning his attention directly to me.

I nearly choke on the bite I’m chewing.

“Oh—uh, no. We’re not. I’m just here for support,” I say quickly, dabbing my mouth with a napkin.

He doesn’t say anything else after that, just nods once. The rest of lunch goes better than expected. Quiet, but still better than the old times I remember at this table.

By the time dessert is served, Rafe is visibly ready to leave. His leg bounces under the table, and I can feel the tension vibrating off of him.

Ward gets a phone call and excuses himself. Rafe immediately seizes the opportunity.

“Let’s go,” he says, already pushing back from the table.

“Wait, you’re leaving already?” Wheezie pouts, hugging Keegan tight. She’s not ready to say goodbye to her favorite little human.

“Yeah, Wheez. I gotta get outta here. You know how it is,” Rafe says gently.

Rose offers me leftovers, and I accept. She disappears to go pack some up.

As we wait, Wheezie takes Keegan to show him her new lizard. Rafe downs the rest of his drink. When Ward returns, he immediately picks up where he left off.

“Sorry about that. Business never sleeps,” he says, then looks at Rafe. “Leaving so soon?”

Rose returns with two bags of food.

“Here you go. I think this’ll be enough for whatever you need it for,” she says, handing them to me.

“Thanks. And thank you both for lunch,” I say politely.

Ward gives me a half-smile.

“Anytime. It’s nice having my grandson around.”

Rafe and I turn to leave, with Ward and Rose watching us from the dining room. As we walk through the house, Rafe turns to me.

“Go wait outside by the car. I’m gonna grab Keegan.”

I nod and step onto the porch. I don’t even get two steps out before I hear Ward’s voice behind me.

“If you’re not dating my son… why are you with him?”

I turn slowly.

“Excuse me?”

“It’s a fairly simple question, dear. Why are you and Rafe spending time together if you’re not back together?”

“Uhm… maybe because we have a child together? We have to talk.”

Ward watches me silently, eyes cold and analytical.

“Well, I think if you’re going to start showing up to family events, you should be more willing to let Rafe see his son whenever he wants. And maybe even let Keegan come over here when I’m home. After all, you’re the one who made the rule he’s not allowed around me unless one of his parents is present.”

My jaw tightens.

“Ward, I do let Rafe see Keegan whenever he wants. It’s on Rafe how much time he takes. Don’t put that on me,” I snap, holding his gaze.

Seeing I’m getting annoyed, Ward finally says his goodbyes and slinks back into the house.

“Bastard,” I mumble under my breath, walking to the car.

Rafe and Keegan come out a moment later. I toss the food into the back and close the door—maybe a little too hard.

“Damn, you okay? You’re slamming my door,” Rafe says with a smile as he buckles Keegan in.

I stand next to my door, arms crossed, taking a second.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Just… your father,” I say quietly.

Rafe looks over, confused.

“Wait—he said something to you?”

I nod slightly.

“It was stupid shit. You know how he is—trying to size me up.”

Rafe watches my face closely.

“Nah, I don’t like that. He has no reason to be speaking to you alone.” He turns to head back toward the house.

I grab his arm.

“No, Rafe. It’s fine. No harm done,” I say, pulling him closer.

“Well, you’re clearly upset by it. I’ll tell him to fuck off.”

He glances down at my hand on his arm, and I let go quickly.

“No, don’t do that. It was an okay lunch. Let’s not ruin it.”

I take a step toward the car, and after a pause, he nods.

“Alright. I’ll let it go.”

“You’ve been drinking though,” I say, holding out my hand. “I’ll drive your car to your place and just Uber back to the Cut.”

Rafe eyes me up and down.

“You’re not Ubering anywhere. It’s not safe—for one. And two, I’m not even drunk. But if it makes you feel better, you can drive to my place and stay there until I’m good to drive.”

“You want me to come over and be inside your house?” I ask, anxiety creeping in.

“Yeah, why not? Sofia’s not there. It’ll just be us and Keegan,” he says, already sliding into the passenger seat.

Taking a deep breath, I get in the driver’s seat. Off to Rafe’s house we go.

Pulling up outside, I take it all in. I’ve been here a few times, but never inside. Usually, Rafe just meets me out front to pick up Keegan.

“I’ll put your food in the fridge,” he says, grabbing Keegan and the bags.

We follow him to the door.

“Make yourself comfortable. I’ll go drop this off,” he says, disappearing into the kitchen.

I stand in the living room, looking around. It’s a nice place—beachfront, modern, with those polished bachelor-pad vibes. Along one table are a few framed pictures, most of Keegan and Rafe. But one stands out: a family portrait. Rafe, Sarah, their mom… and Ward. I’m staring at it when I hear Rafe come back in, so I quickly turn away.

“Uh… do you want a drink?” he asks, scratching the back of his neck.

“No, I’m okay. Thank you,” I say.

Keegan tugs on my hand.

“Come on, Mommy. I wanna show you my room!”

Walking into Keegan’s bedroom is like stepping into a dinosaur exhibit. His room is every little kid’s dream. Bright colors, toys everywhere, a small tank on the windowsill. I lean in for a better look.

“He actually made that,” Rafe says behind me, smiling. “It’s his ant farm.”

I kiss the top of Keegan’s head as he excitedly shows me all his books, his favorite stuffed animals, his ‘coolest’ rock he found last week. He’s got so many neat things tucked into every corner.

Once he settles down to play with his Legos, Rafe steps back from the doorway.

“If you wanna see the rest of the house, I can show you.”

I nod. Keegan says he’s gonna stay and build, totally focused.

Rafe walks me through the upstairs. He shows me the guest bathroom, a spare room, and quickly opens the door to his bedroom. I only glance inside—trying not to feel weird about it. It’s personal, private. I don’t linger.

Downstairs, he points out his office near the front door, then leads me into the game room—complete with an eight-foot pool table, a massive screen for video games, and even a golf simulator.

“Damn,” I whisper. “You really don’t leave the house, do you?”

He just laughs and keeps walking. We pass the living room and kitchen, then step outside through the sliding doors.

There’s a pool. A small garden lines the edge of the yard, colorful flowers bright against the green grass.

“I wanted Keegan to have somewhere the bugs would be,” Rafe says as I look around. “So I had them build the garden.”

I glance at him, surprised by how soft his voice is.

The view of the water stretches out behind the house, calm and wide.

For a second, I forget everything else—because Rafe Cameron really did build himself a tiny paradise.

[dinrelsanddragons]

So why does Raithyon call anytime he has ale 'teatime?'

In short, it's because he wants to imagine better days. When he was much younger, a boy, the Blackscales had a home. A small town of Shiekah called Sableflame. It was in the wilderness of Eldin and somewhat hard to find, in the Deplian Badlands not far from the Thyphlo ruins. Yknow, where it was permanently dark in Breath of the Wild but for some reason not in Tears of the Kingdom.

The Blackscales essentially ruled over this wilderness village, as it was mostly a good place for criminals to hide, especially Sheikah criminals. Even then, the Blackscales did have several hands in the criminal underworld because of this, though not all of them were straight up outlaws. They were called the Blackscales because of their adherence to Sirredes, the dragon spirit of shadow, and each Blackscale, upon coming of age, would make a journey to seek out Sirredes and acquire a part from her– usually a scale.

Raithyon remembers those cheerful days when his parents were alive and lived in a large (and relatively nice) house. Tarhun, his father, and Tatyan, his mother, even had tea, and would share it with Raithyon and his two younger siblings– his brother Mugrunden and sister Sekkala. 'Teatime' is a callback to these halcyon days.

It was destroyed thanks to King Uther.

As the king preceding King Rhoam, Uther was a tyrant who wanted to rule all of Hyrule through any means necessary. Typically, that meant military force– as he conquered and unified much of Hyrule under one banner, sacrificing myriad smaller cultures (and plenty of his own people) on the altar of his ambitions. His agents knew of Sableflame and roughly where it was, though it was difficult to get soldiers to and, as it was a region bordering the allied Goron territories, he had no legal excuse to go after it.

One day, scout reports placed a number of monsters gathering in the Deplian Badlands. Uther saw here an opportunity. He sent a regiment to the region– one far greater than necessary to wipe out a monstrous horde. The commander of this regiment, a Lance Ashworth, was ordered to find Sableflame and wipe it out; the rank and file were only really told that they were dealing with a criminal hideout in a dangerous region packed with monsters, if that.

Lance Ashworth found Sableflame quickly enough. When Sableflame's own scout reports said an entire Hyrulean regiment was headed their way, family head Tarhun and his wife Tatyan knew their intent. The increasing monster activity in the region didn't warrant this, but destroying a small (but decently armed) civilization would. They did their damnedest to evacuate the village, but not many truly escaped. A number of Shiekah not belonging to the Blackscale family did, but of the clan itself? Only Raithyon, his sister Sekkala, and a couple other relatives (Madre, and Riakshin's (unnamed) mother) were able to escape and stay together.

Raithyon and Sekkala have vivid memories of running through the badlands along Eldin's flank, towards the safety of Akkala, under pursuit of Hyrulean archers, when Mugrunden took an arrow to the back of his leg and fell. Raithyon wanted to go back for him, but Sekkala took his wrist and ran, being the more pragmatic of the two and knowing that returning for a fallen family member meant meeting the same fate.

In the current day, Raithyon wants to believe a better life for the Blackscales than one permanently on the run can exist. He wants to believe in the clan's future, perhaps not as criminals, but as respectable members of Hyrulean society. He doesn't know how, but perhaps his daughters Lambda and Reownha will find a way. He must hope. He must equip the girls with every skill he can teach them and more. They are the future of the Blackscales.

[aroaessidhe]

2025 reads / storygraph

Children of Time / Children of Ruin / Children of Memory

sci-fi series following the remnants of humanity across generations as they try to survive on the planets they’ve terraformed

as conflict on earth increases, a scientist releases a nanovirus intended to rapidly evolve monkeys onto a planet they’ve terraformed, which instead infects a species of jumping spiders, creating a complex society

while a classicist of old earth from an ark of humans who’ve spent generations trying to find an another planet to call home, is intermittently woken up in order to translate communications between them and the spider planet they’ve been warned away from, as it is their only option

IN BOOK 2, a ship from the eventual spider-and-human society travel to a distant system that was occupied by another remnant of humanity, a crew terraforming a planet who also let loose their own experiments, creating an octopus society - but the planet was already occupied by true alien life, which caused things to go wrong...

IN BOOK 3, they travel to yet another colony of humans after detecting fragments of signals, and enter their small settlement to try and understand what’s going on

explores the way the different civilisations develop over time, what makes life and sentience and personhood

[seaofreverie]

I was about to start throwing plates because even though hours have passed, the messages on my deco my tree just wouldn't load and in all honesty I was looking forward to reading those more than getting my christmas presents. But looks like making an account on another sketchy website that was linked on that already also sketchy website did give me access to the messages finally. The only problem is that i can't see who they're from but also they seem to be chronological so I think I can figure it out lol. So after some frustrations i can finally say that i have read them and they were really sweet and nice.... so, thank you friends!!!!! 💝 I hope your holidays were great too. And moral of the story is don't trust random websites like these with something that's sort of personal to you idk

[tankgotstuckinthecircusgate]

i know that when carlo suddenly decided that he needs to marry guy made a whole list in his head n like had a deadlines n shit. like it was some kind of a task he needed to do

[linagram]

[ 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝-𝚝𝟸 𝚟𝚘𝚒𝚌𝚎 𝚍𝚛𝚊𝚖𝚊 #𝟶𝟸] 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚊𝚕

THE SECOND TRIAL IS OFFICIALLY OVER. YIPPEEEEEEEEE 🎉🎉🎉 i was about to type "are we ready to see them suffer even more" but ykw. ykw. some characters actually are going to get better :) and some relationship dynamics are going to become a bit more wholesome. some other ones though...

Hinode: So, Miki-san, are you ready to start?

Miki: ...

Hinode: If you want, I can do the talking instead.

Miki: .. N-no, I'm fine. I don't want you to waste your energy on this, so..

Hinode: Haha, you're too kind. 

Miki: I just.. I don't get it. Why did they choose you as a guard? It's too hard for you to even walk and they're making you go through all of this..

Miki: A-ah, it's not like I'm saying you're weak or a burden or anything like that-

Hinode: Well, Eiji-san's arms and legs are covered in bandages and he's in a constant pain, but he still was forced to become a guard, so..

Hinode: It looks like they don't really care about things like that.

Hinode: I'm fine, Miki-san, trust me. Please don't worry about me, okay?

Miki: .. O-okay.

Miki: S-so, the second trial has ended and all prisoners know what verdicts they got this time.

Hinode: I imagine not all of them were satisfied with the result.

Miki: .. Yeah. Definitely. 

Miki: So, um, let's start with the first prisoner, I guess.

Miki: Prisoner 001, Miyagawa Akio. 

Miki: If we voted him guilty, even though Eiji-san is not able to do the punishing himself right now, we'd still have to do something to him and..

Miki: Considering his condition, that would simply kill him. 

Hinode: Also, from what I've heard, his accomplice really was responsible for most of the work. 

Hinode: I agree, it does sound like him just trying to shift the blame, but also.. 

Hinode: For some reason, I believe him. 

Miki: *nods* S-so, he was voted innocent this time.

Miki: Um, Hinode-san, if it's okay.. Remember those questions you made everyone answer?

Hinode: Right. You want to know everyone's answers?

Miki: Y-yes, please. If you don't mind, of course.

Hinode: I have all of the papers with me. Let's see..

Hinode: I can tell by Akio-san's handwriting just how hard it was for him to write. He really was in pain.

Hinode: He talks a lot about his accomplice here. He really misses him a lot, haha..

Hinode: Sorry, that was a bad joke.

Miki: No, no, I.. think he really does miss him.

Hinode: According to Akio-san's answers, his accomplice was responsible for most of the "dirty work" related to their murder. He was the one who did the "physical" aspect of it, but Akio-san was the one who came up with everything.

Miki: H-he admitted it himself?..

Hinode: Yes. I guess this is what happens when someone's in so much pain: they start telling the truth without even noticing it.

Miki: So.. For some reason, Milgram saw Miyagawa-san as the actual murderer?

Hinode: I think it's because, again, he was the one who planned everything. Also, it was his wish to see Chise-san dead that motivated him to murder the boy. If it wasn't for that, it's possible that Chise-san would still be alive.

Hinode: .. I have my doubts though.

Miki: Hm? About what exactly?

Hinode: About Chise-san still being alive. I think it's possible that someone else would've still killed him even if it wasn't for Akio-san.

Miki: .. You're talking about Miyagawa-san's accomplice, aren't you?

Hinode: Yes. I think he would've still tried to kill him even if Akio-san refused to do it himself or join him. 

Miki: May I ask why you think so?

Hinode: You can read Akio-san's answers later, if you want. 

Hinode: I wonder how he reacted to hearing about his verdict.

Miki: He looked shocked at first, but then he sighed loudly and actually looked relieved for a moment. Before I told him that he was forgiven, he was.. shaking. It's like..

Miki: It's like he thought that we're going to punish him again.

Hinode: Haha, well, it's good to hear that he's happy about his verdict. 

Hinode: I hope his condition gets better too. I hate seeing people in pain.

Miki: "Hinode-san sounds like a very nice person.. Maybe he will go easy on the guilty prisoners?"

Miki: "Actually.. I'm still not sure who exactly should punish the guilty prisoners this time."

Miki: "It used to be Eiji-san's job, but.."

Miki: "Never mind."

Miki: N-now.. Prisoner 002, Hanasaki Aimi.

Miki: Even though Eiji-san and some prisoners found her relationship with Miyagawa-san suspicious..

Miki: And her second video was darker and scarier than the first one..

Miki: We still voted her innocent.

Hinode: She had to go through so much, I can't imagine how she would react to getting voted guilty right after she found people that she thought she can trust.

Hinode: I can't help but feel sorry for her. Her problems just feel so.. 

Hinode: .. I just know a person who had to go through a similar thing, haha.

Miki: ".. Is he talking about his brother?"

Miki: Also, even though we still don't know some details of her murder, now we can say for certain that the murder took place at the amusement park that Hanasaki-san's family owned and Hanasaki-san had an accomplice.

Hinode: And her accomplice was..

Miki: .. I think it was her older brother.

Miki: It wouldn't make sense for a classmate or someone else to help her. It also took place at her family's amusement park and of course, a family member would know at least something about how it works. I doubt it would be a parent or a grandparent, so..

Hinode: Also remember what she said during that one interrogation?

Hinode: "Oh well, he's dead anyway".

Hinode: So, her accomplice is definitely a man and.. he's also dead.

Hinode: And her video even shows her killing her accomplice in the end.

Miki: .. So, Hanasaki-san is at least partially responsible for killing her classmates and she also killed her accomplice with her own hands..

Miki: And that accomplice was her own older brother..

Miki: S-she has a reason for doing that, right, Hinode-san? I mean, she has to!..

Miki: If she doesn't-

Hinode: That means you won't be able to forgive her?

Miki: .. I don't know. I-I don't want to think about it.

Miki: It's just.. I can understand why she would want to kill her classmates. I really do feel sorry for her. But her own brother?..

Hinode: Actually, judging from what she wrote here, her relationship with her brother was.. a bit strange.

Miki: Really? But I thought they were close..

Hinode: Oh, Miki-san, being close with someone doesn't always mean you have a perfect and healthy relationship with that person.

Hinode: A-anyway, how did she react to her verdict?

Miki: .. She smiled and ran to give me a hug and said that she knew I will forgive her this time as well. 

Miki: "Because we're friends, after all"..

Miki: .. Prisoner 003, Ishizu Shun.

Miki: He looked like he really wanted to attack Eiji-san and even enjoyed seeing him terrified. And his video showed him killing his victim..

Miki: W-well, victims. 

Hinode: Even someone like you couldn't forgive him this time, huh?

Miki: .. I don't want him to try to attack Eiji-san when he comes back. 

Miki: And.. I just thought that my forgiveness won't save him this time.

Hinode: So, let's see..

Hinode: He claimed that he only killed his ex-girlfriend's new boyfriend, correct? 

Hinode: But his video clearly showed him killing both his ex and her boyfriend. 

Hinode: Do you think he knows she's dead as well and he's just in denial or lying or he genuinely doesn't remember killing her?

Miki: .. I feel like he doesn't remember killing her and whenever he does remember it, he just tries to deny it.

Miki: When Eiji-san asked him if she's still alive, he refused to answer and just stared blankly at us and asked which girlfriend he's talking about.

Hinode: Speaking of Shun-san having multiple girlfriends.. What can you say about that?

Miki: Um, I don't know much about that topic..

Miki: But I guess they weren't real?

Miki: Judging from his video, it looked like Ishizu-san used video games and other things as something that could help him escape from his real life problems.

Miki: And because of his mental health issues, he wasn't able to tell which one is fiction and which one is reality and started to believe the connections and relationships he formed in those games were real.

Hinode: .. *laughs*

Hinode: Oh, sorry, sorry. It's just..

Hinode: You know, there could've been some kind of twist, like, imagine him actually having so many girlfriends and not remembering him killing them..

Hinode: But no, he was just being delusional.

Hinode: I guess we expected too much from him.

Hinode: But I wonder just how he met that girl. To be honest, I feel like they weren't in any kind of relationship and he just made that all up and started to think that his fantasies are actually real.

Miki: .. You're saying he started to stalk a random girl and believed that she's actually his ex-girlfriend?

Hinode: It's possible.

Miki: ...

Miki: "W-why do I feel so disgusted whenever I think about Ishizu-san?"

Miki: So, when I told him about his verdict..

Miki: H-he didn't take it well.

Miki: He started panicking and mumbling something about it not making any sense and..

Miki: He tried to attack me, haha..

Miki: But he still wasn't able to touch me, so.. I'm okay.

Miki: "I still don't understand why the prisoners can touch Eiji-san, but they can't touch me.."

Hinode: Hmm..

Hinode: It looks like we've made the right decision, but this guy will definitely cause us a lot of trouble.

Miki: Right..

Miki: Prisoner 004, Chiba Naomi.

Hinode: She was a hard one.

Miki: May I ask why you voted her guilty, Hinode-san? I thought you'd sympathize with her..

Hinode: Well, you see..

Hinode: I hate seeing people in pain, I really do. And I don't want Naomi-san to end up in even more pain. However..

Hinode: First of all, her victim was a child. A ten year old. Who knows how long his life could've been if it wasn't for her.

Hinode: And second of all, her motive. Didn't she reveal that her killing that child was her "fighting for independence"?

Hinode:*laughs* God, this sounds so weird. 

Hinode: She just got tired of that kid and got mad at him for calling her out. 

Hinode: Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying that kids can't be.. "evil", but so far I haven't seen any serious threats in her videos. It was just him laughing at her and "bullying" her in a way.

Hinode: But isn't she 30 years old? She's a teacher. She should be able to handle this. It's almost like she got so used to all of her students being so nice and polite, she completely forgot that kids can be annoying.

Hinode: And.. I think adults like that deserve to be punished.

Miki: .. Maybe you're right.

Hinode: Also, I read her answers and she seems to really dislike Asahi-san. Just what is her deal with kids..

Miki: .. C-can I also read that later?

Hinode: Sure. 

Miki: "Why do I feel happy that I agreed to vote her guilty now?"

Hinode: By the way, how did she react to her verdict?

Miki: .. She wasn't happy about it.

Miki: It took her a moment to realize what happened and then she just started laughing uncontrollably. And then she sighed, looked at me and said..

Miki: "Well, you're the guard. Who am I to say that your decisions don't make any sense?"

Hinode: Doesn't sound like something a prisoner who truly wanted to be voted guilty would say.

Hinode: Who knows, maybe she was pretending to be nicer than she really is.

Miki: I feel like it's more complicated than that.. 

Miki: "It's like Chiba-san really does think she's guilty, but deep inside she wants someone to say that they forgive her.."

Miki: Prisoner 005, Sanada Kei.

Miki: .. Watching his video was.. hard.

Hinode: And painful.

Hinode: Just what did those women do to him?

Miki: .. I think it's related to those scars Eiji-san had mentioned.

Hinode: .. But why would they do that to him?

Miki: There was this moment in the video, when one of the women found some of the photographs made by Kei-san and she looked.. disgusted.

Miki: Maybe you already know about.. uh.. Kei-san's job.

Hinode: I do. You think she found those particular photos?

Miki: .. I think so.

Hinode: I find it interesting that Kei-san got so scared. I thought a person with a job like that would be more careful and would have a plan in case something like that happens.

Hinode: Maybe he believed that he would never get caught?

Miki: I'm just trying to understand..

Miki: Did those women try to.. 

Miki: Attack him, maybe? Did they think that he was going to do the same to them and that's why he invited them?

Hinode: But hey, why else would he invite them? 

Miki: W-well..

Miki: ...

Miki: Actually, you're right. Why did he invite them to his house?

Miki: He had so many photographs of those women and it looked like he had some kind of plan..

Hinode: .. Perhaps he was already thinking of murdering them?

Miki: B-but why would he do that?! What did those women even do to him? I mean, before attacking him and all..

Hinode: From what I remember, those women also appeared in his first video and if I'm not wrong, they were dating his friends.

Hinode: Maybe.. something happened between him and his friends? 

Miki: .. I feel like I might have an idea.

Hinode: Really? Please share.

Miki: I-I'm not so sure right now and I need more time to figure this out, but..

Miki: Kei-san's.. "partner" played a big part in his second video. And he also appeared in the first one too.

Miki: I have a feeling that it's not just because he's important to Kei-san, but it's also because he played an important role in Kei-san's crime as well.

Miki: Some lyrics of his song were also.. strange..

Miki: "Do I wanna be seen as strong? Do I wanna be seen as weak? I don't know, but just hug me already".

Miki: Or "Maybe I should accept that this world won't accept me".

Miki: Just what could those lyrics possibly mean?..

Miki: Oh, and when I told him about his verdict, he got really surprised and when I confirmed that it's true and he was forgiven, he laughed and asked..

Miki: "Just how does the guards' thought process work?"

Miki: H-he probably asked that because of us voting him guilty that last time. He looked happy, though he asked me about Eiji-san's condition.. 

Miki: And I couldn't give him an answer.

Miki: Prisoner 006, Yoshioka Eiko.

Miki: .. Both of us agreed that she should be voted guilty. 

Miki: She's a bad influence for both Ishizu-san and Kei-san and she also doesn't feel any remorse for what she did.

Miki: I feel a bit.. sorry for her though. 

Miki: I mean.. What if her victim really wasn't a good boyfriend-

Hinode: Does that mean he deserved to die?

Miki: N-no! No, of course not!

Miki: But.. I don't know. I can't say that Yoshioka-san is a bad person, but she clearly treats some of her fellow prisoners horribly.

Miki: And she doesn't feel any regret and thinks it's completely okay to do those things.

Miki: And also.. Her reaction to Kei-san hurting Eiji-san worries me.

Miki: She said that if anything happens, Eiji-san should tell her.

Hinode: .. Hey, wasn't it Yurika-san who broke Eiji-san's arm?

Miki: *nods*

Miki: .. Oh no.

Hinode: I think we should keep an eye on both of them, just in case.

Miki: When I told her about her verdict, she just rolled her eyes and said:

Miki: "Don't know what you saw in that video, but I guess it's understandable". 

Hinode: .. At least she's chill when it comes to that.

Miki: She did ask me about Eiji-san and her eyes looked a little bit darker than usual, so.. 

Miki: M-maybe restraining her a bit wouldn't hurt.

Miki: Prisoner 007, Yano Asahi.

Miki: We decided to vote him innocent.

Miki: He.. he didn't look so well when me and Eiji-san interrogated him last time.

Miki: I don't know if he would be able to calm down if it wasn't for me. 

Miki: Ah, it's not like I'm bragging or anything-

Hinode: No, no, you should be proud of yourself. You've calmed him down and comforted him when he needed it. You did a good job.

Miki: .. Ehehe~

Miki: His video was.. one of the hardest ones to watch.

Hinode: It clearly showed him as not the best person and he was more than okay with taking advantage of his adoptive mother's money. 

Hinode: However, we should also remember that these videos are not only showing us the prisoners' extracted memories, but also their thoughts and we can see everything in the way the prisoners themselves saw their crimes.

Hinode: Do you think it's possible that Asahi-san feels guilty for his murder and the way he treated his adoptive mother?

Miki: .. I think it is. I doubt he would have reacted in the same way if he didn't feel anything. He was panicking, he refused to talk about it and he clearly looked traumatized. If he didn't feel bad about his murder, he wouldn't show any of those emotions.

Hinode: It's almost like you're speaking from experience, Miki-san. 

Miki: .. W-what do you mean by-

Hinode: Or maybe you just understand children really well, haha.

Miki: .. Ahem.

Miki: And also.. he tries really hard to forget about what happened.

Miki: He never calls her his mother, only "that woman", not only because he doesn't see her as his mother, but also because it's almost like he's trying to push those memories away. 

Miki: She's not his victim or anything, she's just.. "that woman".

Miki: "And also.."

Miki: ".. I can't believe I had to see him again while I was watching Marito's video."

Miki: "I almost broke the screen when I saw him, haha.."

Hinode: Miki-san, is everything alright? You look.. pale.

Miki: I-I'm fine, I'm fine.

Miki: .. Hm, come to think of it..

Miki: I'm not sure if you know about it, Hinode-san, but Asahi-san used to have..

Miki: Um.. An "imaginary friend" based on his mother. Or maybe his "idea" of a perfect mother.

Miki: And I've just realized that he kinda.. stopped talking to her or about her.

Miki: Maybe something happened-

Hinode: Maybe it's because he has you now?

Miki: .. Huh?

Hinode: O-oh, don't get me wrong! I don't mean it in a "he sees you as a mother figure" way.

Hinode: I mean it in more of a "he's not alone anymore" way.

Miki: .. Oh.

Miki: .. When I told him about his verdict, he looked really happy.

Miki: He even ran to hug me and thanked me, haha.

Miki: ".. I wonder if he will remember who I am one day. But I don't want to tell him yet, I'm afraid I will make him remember we had to go through.."

Miki: Prisoner 008, Maruyama Yurika.

Miki: .. Guilty. She's guilty.

Hinode: She broke Eiji-san's arm, threatened to start hurting the other prisoners, is definitely capable of doing that, considering that she had attacked Asahi-san in the past and almost attacked Kei-san and her video was.. 

Hinode: Even worse than Kei-san and Asahi-san's videos combined.

Miki: But I still don't understand anything. I still don't know how her crime went and we're supposed to judge them based on their crimes!..

Hinode: Not necessarily. We can judge them based on anything. 

Hinode: And her being dangerous for us and other prisoners is most certainly a valid reason to vote her guilty.

Hinode: As for her video..

Hinode: I wonder just what kind of job she did while working at a maid cafe.

Hinode: It definitely doesn't seem legal.

Miki: If she has experience with torturing people and kidnapping them..

Miki: .. Huh.

Miki: T-there's this scene in her video where Maruyama-san and her.. manager, I assume, are filling everyone's buckets with some kind of liquid. And she says that "Everyone has their own needs and it's our job to satisfy them".

Miki: I think we should think about that scene more to understand what kind of job she had.

Miki: And I feel like her crime is related to her job too..

Miki: Ah, but that's just my opinion though-

Hinode: You know you sound like a real detective right now? *laughs*

Hinode: Seriously, Miki-san, you're really smart. Sorry for just sitting and listening to you like this, but I really am impressed.

Miki: .. Haha..

Hinode: W-why is your face becoming so red-

Miki: A-anyway, just as I've expected, she got mad at me when I told her about her verdict.

Hinode: Did she try to-

Miki: Yes, she tried to attack me just like Ishizu-san, but I just knocked her out. It's fine.

Hinode: .. Knocked her out?..

Hinode: Miki-san, you're stronger than I thought..

Hinode: .. We will definitely have to restrain her, huh..

Miki: Prisoner 009, Kuroki Riku.

Miki: .. Hinode-san-

Hinode: Yes, this is my brother. Yes.

Miki: .. I'm sorry. 

Hinode: It's fine. I voted him guilty myself.

Miki: B-but why?! Why would you vote your own brother guilty? Do you want to see him in pain?!

Hinode: It's because I know everything about his crime, Miki-san.

Miki: !

Hinode: When everyone started talking about Yue-kun's death, I knew that Riku had something to do with it.

Hinode: Riku told everyone just how much he loved Yue-kun, but he was honest with me and even when he didn't say anything, I could see in his eyes just how much he hated that guy.

Hinode: He wanted him dead, Miki-san. And he would do anything to achieve his goal. 

Miki: .. But why didn't you stop him?

Hinode: .. When even waking up is too physically painful for you, you don't have enough time and energy to talk your brother out of murdering his best friend.

Miki: .. May I ask what was your first thought after you found out about Shiozaki-san's death?

Hinode: I just turned to Riku, who was watching TV with me and quietly asked him if it was him.

Miki: And what did he do?

Hinode: He smiled and left the room.

Hinode: Listen, I don't want to see him in pain. I don't want to hurt him. But I want Riku to understand that even though he really was a victim in a way.. 

Hinode: Murder isn't an answer.At least it definitely wasn't the right answer for him.

Hinode: He really could've just talked to Yue-kun. Maybe Yue-kun wouldn't like it, but at least Riku could say that he tried.

Hinode: But instead he decided to abuse his popularity and turn all of his classmates into loyal dogs that followed his every move and listened to his every command. 

Miki: So what you're saying is..

Hinode: Yes, Miki-san. Riku made his entire class and possibly other students bully Yue-kun into committing suicide.

Miki: .. B-but do you think his death really was-

Hinode: I doubt it. Especially considering the way Riku's first video ends.

Miki: .. When I told him about his verdict..

Miki: .. He just asked me to bring him some hair dye later.

Miki: He said he wants to dye his hair black before he gets punished, haha..

Hinode: Are you planning on doing that?

Miki: O-of course! Even if we voted him guilty, I still want to fulfill his request before..

Miki: Well.. you know.

Miki: And finally.. 

Miki: Prisoner 010, Himura Reina. 

Miki: .. We voted her innocent. Again. 

Hinode: She didn't like that, did she?

Miki: She has to accept that it's the only way she can be saved. I don't think Himura-san deserves to be punished. 

Miki: If Himura-san can accept that she deserves to be forgiven.. I think everything will get better for her after that. 

Hinode: We never see her killing someone directly. It's always her witnessing a murder or hiding the body.. 

Hinode: No matter how much she tries to portray herself as guilty, her videos can't lie. 

Miki: And.. Now we know that her "victim" was her little brother. 

Miki: But I still don't understand what happened to him. If Himura-san is somehow responsible for his death, but she's not the murderer, then.. 

Miki: Who is? 

Hinode: Maybe his death was an accident, but it could've been prevented if Himura-san was there? 

Miki: If that's the case.. 

Miki: ... 

Miki: "I wanted to say that she doesn't deserve to be here, but also.."

Miki: "Marito running away was an accident too. I didn't mean for that to happen."

Miki: "So if we're guilty of doing almost the same thing.."

Hinode: Hey, Miki-san.

Hinode: When you say that she doesn't deserve to be punished, does that mean you think that somebody else in this prison deserves to be punished?

Miki:... 

Miki: I-it's okay. 

Miki: When Eiji-san was punishing them, he was.. I have to say that he was really cruel for no reason. 

Miki: I really do respect Eiji-san, but he punished them not to save them, but to torture them. 

Miki: But when I punish them.. I do it because I love everyone here. 

Miki: Uh, even Maruyama-san. 

Miki: I really do want to save them. I want them to get better. 

Miki: So if punishing them will help them understand that they've done something wrong and they will try to change for the better..

Miki: I don't see any problem with it.

Hinode: .. Heh. I see. 

Hinode: It's actually a good thing though because I was worried that you might not like the new punishment method.

Miki: .. The new punishment method?

Hinode: Well, since it used to be Eiji-san's job, now we're the ones who have to punish the guilty prisoners, right?

Miki: B-but what about you not wanting to-

Hinode: I hate seeing people in pain, Miki-san.

Hinode: I hate seeing them in physical pain.

Hinode: I feel like punishing everyone physically is just so.. tasteless. Everyone can cry and suffer if you hurt them too badly, what's so special about it?

Hinode: I've spent my whole life in pain like that. I know what it's like and I hate it when it's used as a punishment.

Hinode: But this method isn't about the physical pain. It's more about..

Hinode: Here. Do you see this little thing?

Miki: It looks like some kind of.. remote, maybe? It's pretty small though..

Hinode: Yes, you're supposed to keep it in your pocket actually. Make sure to always have it on you. 

Miki: But what does it do?

Hinode: Well, you need everyone's memories to see their videos, right? Otherwise their videos simply can't be created.

Hinode: And this thing.. 

Hinode: This thing extracts everyone's memories, but doesn't turn them into videos or whatever. It simply keeps them inside.

Hinode: You can also give those memories back if you so desire.

Miki: ...

Hinode: I know, this might sound strange, Miki-san, but considering that we have a whole music video machine, this shouldn't be surprising.

Miki: .. And.. Why exactly do we need this machine? What are we going to use it for?

Hinode: I have one with me as well. There's two of them. 

Hinode: So, uh.. You see, Miki-san.. *laughs*

Hinode: I was planning to kind of.. play with the guilty prisoners' memories a little bit.

Miki: !

Hinode: For example, maybe we can take the memories of their childhood and see what kind of people they would become without them. Maybe we can take the memories of their murder and see how they would act. 

Hinode: We can't actually watch the memories we've taken from them though, which is a shame.

Miki: .. And.. How will they-

Hinode: Ah, the physical side effects may be.. 

Hinode: *takes a breath* Dissociation, dizziness, headache, anxiety, depression, nausea, mood swings, even bigger memory loss in the process..

Hinode: But at least it's not cutting their fingers off or beating them up, right?

Miki: .. Can't we come up with a better punishment?

Hinode: But I thought you wanted to save everyone, Miki-san.

Hinode: It's not going to hurt. They're not going to feel any pain. They're just gonna forget some things, actually, it might make them happier.

Hinode: And if anything goes wrong, we can just give those memories back to them.

Miki: .. A weird question, but where did you get this machine?

Hinode: Oh, uh..

Hinode: The rabbit thing from earlier gave it to me.

Miki: ...

Miki: I have a bad feeling about this.

Hinode: Come on, Miki-san, you know we have to do something to the guilty prisoners. 

Miki: Can't we just restrain them?! Can't we just lock them up or something?!

Hinode: You will be in control, Miki-san. 

Hinode: You can always adjust the settings. You can even choose how many memories you wish to extract. 

Hinode: You can go for a small memory loss or a big one. 

Hinode: It's your choice. They don't have to lose all of their memories and they don't have to lose them forever.

Hinode: It's not like they're going to turn into mindless zombies and their brains are going to melt.

Miki: ...

Hinode: .. Are you ready to give it a try?

Miki: .. I-I'll go pay a visit to Ishizu-san. 

***

???: It seems like the third trial is going to start soon. Are you excited?

???: Hm?.. I don't know, should I?

???: It's like.. I want to know how all of this ends, but at the same time..

???: These guards are way too slow. They're not even trying to uncover this place's secrets.

???: But.. Isn't that actually good for us? I mean, that would be a pain to deal with.

???: True, but it also would be more entertaining.

???: These guys just feel like lab rats to me. They're so obsessed with their morals, they don't feel like real people to me, haha.

???: "Everyone is guilty!" "No, everyone is innocent!" A bunch of clowns, that's who they are.

???: *sighs* Well, at least the future guards should be more fun.

???: Ah, have you already made your choice?

???: Yeah. Here, take a look.

???: ...

???: .. O-oh. U-understood.

???: Sorry about this. I know it sounds like I don't care, but..

???: No, no, I.. I understand. 

???: I will-

???: Woah, this tea tastes really good!

???: Oh, sorry for interrupting you. Anyway, can you tell Jackalope to bring this to, uh.. you know, that girl?

???: S-sure, but.. Sorry if this sounds rude, but why can't you do it yourself? 

???: He's taking a nap right now. Getting enough sleep is very important. 

???: S-so you're just telling me to sit there and wait until he wakes up? 

???: Yep.

???: ...

???: Y-you really love him, huh..

???: Okay. Well, if you'll excuse me. 

(sounds of footsteps that become more and more quiet)

???: He's a good guy. 

???: But sadly, good guys like him either don't live long here or just get taken advantage of.

???: I'll prefer it to be the second option-

???: Huh?

???: What's that noise..

???: .. The third prisoner.

═════════•°• ⚠ •°•═════════

The second trial is over. Thank you for participating!

[hauntingblue]

Skypiea time part 2

She is a woman..... this is sanji's influence... in whiskey peak his slashes were non gendered

Ace just letting himself get pushed into the river like aight my bad I will take my punishment.... he really is so well mannered (it sounds like I'm talking about a dog)

Conis showing that nami influence.... gfs....

Nami and luffy twins moment look how relieved she is... this whole fight is so theirs...

Also how funny it is that the milk girl gave ace a shirt.... also new pants??? She must think he lost the shirt in the river.... no girl he is just a slut...

Nami: okay ❤️ yay ❤️

Noland just thinking about where karugara is and if he is alright in his EXECUTION!! SICK AND TWISTED

OMG BOUNDMAN INSPO????

NO ACEEE NOOOOOOOO

THE END OF ACES STORY IS THAT THE COFFE IS NO LONGER BITTER BC THEY SERVE IT WITH MILK AND WHY AM I EMOTIONAL ABOUT IT

[lionblaze03-2]

idc that I’m allergic I love dog so much I need dog in my life. Look at this face. Like come on

And this one??? Forget about it

[j3llyc4kes]

summary: your criminal boyfriend sukuna who absolutely rocks your world in the best way possible. now you’re in ur prison gf arc?

wc: uuhhh, 7k? i think..i yapped

cw: angsty, fluff, smut, mentions of guns, prison, drugs, etc. comfort at the end, pinky promise :3

you met ryomen sukuna through some mutuals. back when you were still smart. still cautious. some house party with peeling paint, shitty music. way too many bodies and way too many red solo cups.

you went with one of your girls yuki tsukumo—well, got dragged along. she was pointing people out, talking fast, already tipsy. you were half listening, half not giving a fuck.

then she leaned in, whispered over the rim of her drink,

“and that’s ryomen. don’t. he’s like crazy. like—jail time type shit.”

your ears perked up like a dog.

“jail time?” you asked. and then you saw him.

sitting on a shitty couch, red eyes. black tattoos on his face, crawling down the back of his neck, his arms, clearly all over. all ink and muscle and attitude. dragging a hand through a soft pink buzzcut, smoking a blunt. shirt half unbuttoned (thank fuck). tatted hands in his pockets like he could kill you or kiss you and you’d say thank you for both.

and to your surprise, he looked in your direction as you mindlessly walked to up him like you’d been shot by cupid. he smirked, looking you up and down—like he already knew you’d walk over.

“you lost?” his voice was low. rough. amused.

you shook your head. “nope.” sitting on his lap anyways.

and you swore it was just you being dumb. wanted a quick fuck, nothing more. you weren’t actually gonna fall for him.

after the first time you met him, it started slow. drinks, texts, late nights that blurred into mornings. you never asked what he did—not really. he never volunteered it. but the cash came easy. so what the hell right?

“you scared of me yet?” he asks you one night, voice low, fingers brushing your thigh while you sat in his lap, his gun cold against your lower back while it was tucked in his waist band.

you shake your head. “dunno, should i be?”

he grins. all teeth. “nah. i’d never hurt you.” and he meant it.

you always looked the other way when he left in the middle of the night. didn’t feel the need ask why he always checked the blinds twice. why he had two phones. why he flinched when a black SUV passed too slow.

because sukuna…he was surprisingly gentle. always held the door for you. always touched you like he meant it. he made you laugh when you didn’t want to, made you feel like the only girl in the world. took you out and never let you pay. took you home and made you feel safe, somehow, even with a gun or two on the nightstand.

you know he’s not a good man. you’re not stupid.

but he just looks so goddamn fine when he leans against the hood of his car, blunt between his lips, black hoodie clinging to his frame. the kind of man people cross the street to avoid.

i mean come on, he’s a criminal. a real one. not some fake ass who shoplifts and smokes mids. sukuna moves product, handles money, kills when he has to—cold, smart, ruthless.

but with you? he’s just so soft. always puts his gun on the counter before dinner. keeps his voice low when you’re tired. kisses the inside of your wrist and tugs you into his lap when you’re mad at him. carries you to bed when you fall asleep on the couch. rubs your feet without asking.

he kisses you so sweetly. calls you baby in that low voice like it’s a threat. you argue like you want to kill each other and fuck like you’re trying to bring each other back to life.

so when he comes home at night, blood on his clothes and that dead-calm look in his eye, and mutters, “need you to say i was with you tonight,”

you don’t ask. you just say: “yeah. course you were.”

(fuck it, we ball)

and some months later, he’s still in your bed. still eating all of your snacks, washing your dishes sometimes, kissing your neck with a kind of possessiveness that should be a red flag—but feels so green.

the thing is? he never lies to you. doesn’t even try to.

“i’m not clean,” he says one night, tracing tattoos along your thigh while the tv plays something neither of you are watching. “i do bad shit. and i’m not gonna stop.”

you probably should’ve left then. but instead, you kissed him.

and by the end of year one, you’re living in his apartment—scratch that, your apartment, because his name’s not on the lease. “can’t leave a paper trail, princess.” the place is cozy and yours. you got loud neighbors and a pitbull named akuma—big, gray, dumb as hell, and completely obsessed with sukuna.

“he’s gonna be a little menace to society,” you said when he brought the puppy home.

sukuna just smirked, kneeling down, scratching behind the dog’s ears. “takes after his dad.”

the three of you are like some fucked-up little family. your neighbors always side-eye you. your mom knows but chooses not to say anything anymore. and now your friends have stopped trying to talk you out of it.

and you stopped pretending you wanted out a loooong ass time ago.

fast forward to two years in: the fridge is covered in dumb polaroids. you brushing your teeth. him flipping off the camera. akuma in the middle, tongue out, wearing the stupid, gucci harness you swore was too expensive until sukuna said, “yeah, and?” and bought it anyway.

and now sukuna’s even got your name inked into the thick muscle of his forearm. right above those bold lines on his wrist.

“seriously? this isn’t like sharpie or something?” you’d asked when he came home from the tattoo shop that day.

he just smirked. “dead serious.”

when akuma jumps into bed and crushes your legs and sukuna tells him to get off but doesn’t mean it, when he presses his inked hand to your thigh while you’re watching a movie and says “gonna put a ring on it, you know that?”

you believe every word.

one day, you see the red and blue lights flash by in a blur out the window when he comes running inside the apartment—breathless—you don’t question him. idiot move but it’s because he always comes home. always throws his wallet and his keys on the counter and kisses your cheek like nothing happened. cooks dinner shirtless, muscles flexing while he flips the steak and washes his hands off in the sink.

you clean his knuckles. you patch his ribs. you kiss the crown of his head while he falls asleep on the couch with his arms around you and that’s all that matters.

but you notice how he’s been on edge. more late nights. tighter grip on your waist when you’re out. more checking the windows. more guns on the table.

“you trust me?” he asks later that night, voice low in the dark.

you’re in bed, curled against his side, tracing the black ink on his chest. akuma at your feet. his heart’s beating too fast.

you nod. “always, kuna.”

he exhales, fingers brushing over your spine.

“then no matter what happens—no matter who says what, or what you hear—you remember that. alright?”

you look up at him. search his face. “baby, what’s going on?”

he doesn’t answer. just kisses your forehead, holds you tighter.

a week goes by after that conversation. everything is almost perfect and then it’s not. it all happens so fast. it’s 2:26 a.m. quiet, maybe a little too quiet. then it’s not.

one minute you’re on the couch, hoodie on, legs tucked under you, sukuna’s head in your lap while a movie plays low in the background. he’s half-asleep, arm curled around your thigh, breathing slow like—for once—he’s letting himself rest.

then a crash. your front door kicked in. boots pounding down the hall. shouting—sharp, cold, barked like war commands.

“CLEAR.”

“LEFT SIDE.”

“MOVE MOVE MOVE—”

“HANDS WHERE WE CAN SEE THEM!”

akuma is the first to react—your gray pittie, big and gentle and stupidly loyal—howling, barking like he’s ready to kill. but there are too many of them. someone yells to grab the dog. you scream his name, but they’ve already got him by the collar, dragging him back while he thrashes and whines. red and blue lights flash across the walls. guns drawn.

you’re frozen, shaking, the room is spinning.

you’re still processing—still trying to understand why there are rifles in your face. why they’re screaming your name. why they’re tearing through your drawers, your closet. why they’re grabbing sukuna’s burner phone, the rolled cash, the duffel bags, the box under the bed he told you never to touch.

sukuna’s already standing—calm. too calm. hands raised. jaw tight.

his gun’s on the coffee table. he doesn’t move. he just looks at you.

“listen to me. breathe. look at me. i told you—don’t forget, alright?”

you’re crying now. shaking. choking on air.

his eyes—sharp, red, unreadable—don’t move.

you lunge for him, but two officers grab you first and shove you against the wall. you’re screaming just trying to see him, but they’re in the way, shouting over you.

“wait—please, don’t hurt him!” you shake your head, blinking through tears, “he didn’t—he—what the fuck is going on?!”

“ryomen sukuna, you’re under arrest for organized crime, weapons trafficking, drug trafficking, assault with a deadly weapon—”

the words don’t sound real and it’s not like you didn’t know. you weren’t stupid. you just loved him too much to say it out loud.

as they read him his rights. he doesn’t flinch. doesn’t blink. he lets them cuff him—wrists behind his back, shoulders loose. they slam him into the wall and he still turns to find you.

and he’s smiling.

the cuffs are tight. your apartment’s destroyed. your dog is howling like he’s mourning a death.

but sukuna just smiles. like this is nothing. like he knew it was coming. which in hindsight, he tried to warn you something was coming.

his eyes stay on you, even through the flashlight beams, the chaos.

“it’s okay, baby,” he says, soft, just for you. “don’t cry.”

“sukuna—please, no—”

he keeps smiling. even as they start pulling him toward the door.

“i’ll be alright. i promise.”

and just before the hallway swallows him, just before the sirens drown it all out.

“baby,” he calls out again, louder this time. “look at me.”

you do, through the blur of tears, you do.

he’s got a split lip from how they man handled him, bleeding. his arms tensed behind his back. his face still calm.

“don’t worry, yeah?” voice steady. “they’re just doing their job. i’ll be fine.”

“b-but you promised—” your voice breaks. “you promised me—”

“i know.” he nods. and for the first time, the smile slips. just for a second. “i know, baby. i’m sorry.”

they drag him out towards the squad car. akuma’s losing it—thrashing against the grip on his collar, trying to follow him. you collapse to the floor, sobbing. akuma finally escapes from one of the officers and pushes his head into your side, whining like his heart’s breaking too.

as you look around, they’re bagging everything. phones. files. guns. bricks. a woman in a black blazer reads off inventory like she’s listing groceries. her voice is calm. efficient. it makes you want to scream.

while you’re left on the floor—sobbing, shaking, clutching your dog while your whole life gets zipped into evidence bags. and all you can hear is his voice, still yelling from outside:

“don’t fuckin’ touch my girl or my dog—you hear me?!”

you stare past the officer crouched in front of you, not even hearing him anymore—just watching sukuna get shoved into the back of a squad car.

and just before the door slams, he shouts, “i love you, y’know that? i’ll come back.”

the door closes.

all that was left was the mumbling of officers as they raided your apartment. after that, they take you down to the station. they question you for hours but they don’t have anything on you nor do they any info from you.

you were smart. loyal. quiet. just his girlfriend, just the love of his life. you didn’t know a damn thing. you were with him on this day. and that day. you gave them alibis for everything they tried to pin on him.

never flinched. never snitched. you held the line.

and when they finally let you go, hours later—bleary-eyed, fingers trembling, walking back into the wreckage of what used to be home—akuma’s waiting by the door. his tail thumping, eyes wide, like he doesn’t know how to stop looking for him.

and neither do you.

couple months down the line, it’s his court date. it’d been painfully long. phone calls, visits here and there but it was finally time for his sentencing.

you had gotten there early. standing in a corner, speaking with his defense attorney.

but as the time passed, the courtroom felt cold and quiet in that fake, choking way.

you’re sitting stiff in the second row, all black—tight dress, heavy coat, heels loud on the tile when you walked in. hands gripping the edge of the bench, white-knuckled as you waited.

your eyes lock on him the second he steps into the room.

sukuna walks in wearing shackles like they’re fucking jewelry. orange jumpsuit unzipped just enough to show the ink crawling up his chest. wrists cuffed, ankles too, chain connecting them down the middle.

he’s smirking like this is a joke. like he already knows how it ends. then his eyes land on you. his girl.

“hey, baby. you look good.”

“shut the fuck up,” one of the guards snaps, yanking the chain forward.

you don’t flinch. you don’t even speak. you just watch him walk to his seat like he owns the place.

he sits back like it’s a poker game. his leg bouncing, smiling. those red eyes scan the room once, like he’s bored.

then it begins. and soon enough, the judge starts reading the charges.

violent, serious shit. none of it exaggerated even a little bit.

organized crime. trafficking. assault. illegal weapons.

which again, you know what he did. you knew before the cops ever did. meanwhile everyone in the room looks at him like a monster but not you.

you don’t even blink when the jury says “guilty” after every charge and neither does he.

the judge ends the trial with his sentence, “twenty-five years. eligible for parole in seven.”

the courtroom breathes in like it just took a punch. and sukuna? sukuna just laughs. real fucking loud, ugly and real. he throws his head back like he’s in on some joke no one else gets.

the judge bangs the gavel. some man yells at him to shut up and stop laughing, the guards move fast.

he just grins through all of it then turns his head toward you, mouth split in that same damn smirk.

“still gonna write me, baby?” he calls, smug, voice booming off the walls.

you nod once—sharp. you could care less who sees.

the guards haul him up, start dragging him toward the side door. he doesn’t resist. just keeps smiling at you like he already knows you’ll be there tomorrow, and the next day, and the next. and he’s right.

the truth is, the charges could’ve been a hell of a lot worse. they had enough to bury him alive but you? you were a fucking godsend. every little lie was perfect. you lied through your goddamn teeth. all the fake alibis, timelines, pretending not to know what half the shit in your apartment was—had worked. even after they grilled you for hours. days. tried to shake you, to get you to break.

but you never gave them shit. you kept your voice steady, your story straight and your love for him ironclad.

and it worked. it could’ve been 40 years to life. it could’ve been no parole. it could’ve even been you, too. but here you are—still free. he’s not. but he’s still yours.

and seven years later? he’s still yours.

sure, he’s missed holidays. birthdays. every new year’s kiss. but every thursday at 3:00pm? you’re there.

you’re used to the routine now. first your ID, patdown, metal detector. pretty boring stuff.

at that point, you knew every guard by name.

you’ve done this a hundred times—plastic chairs, shitty vending machine coffee, body searches.

you don’t care because the second he walks into the visitation room everything else fades out.

he’s bigger now. broader. face leaner, eyes sharper—darker in a way that says time has passed, and prison doesn’t change people so much as refine them. orange jumpsuit rolled to the waist, white tank clinging to his chest, black ink crawling up the back of his neck like smoke.

and that grin—dangerous. crooked. just for you.

“fuck, baby,” he drawls, sliding into the seat across from you. “you get hotter every time i see you. is that a new lip gloss?”

you roll your eyes. “you gonna flirt or ask how i’ve been?”

he shrugs, smirking. “same thing.”

still cocky. still loud. still him but the edges are tighter now. more controlled like every second without you has been simmering under his skin.

there were times you’d talk. about nothing. about everything. he tells you about prison like it’s high school drama. you tell him about bills, work, new TV shows, keeping the bed warm for him. he listens like every word matters. like you’re the only real thing in his world.

“are you wearing that chain i sent you?” he asks.

you tug it out from under your hoodie—a little silver bar with his name engraved.

his grin widens. “of course you are, don’t know why i even asked.”

and sometimes, when the guards aren’t looking, he leans in close. voice low, filthy, just for you:

“you gonna let me fuck you in the conjugal trailer next month?”

“still think about that pretty little body when i fall asleep.”

“i’m gonna come home and ruin you. you know that, right?”

you squeeze your thighs together. he sees. smirks. and of course the smug bastard is proud of himself.

and sometimes it’s quiet. just the sound of your fingers tapping on the metal table. he stares at your hands like they mean something.

“seven years,” he mutters. “and you’re still here.”

you shrug. “you’d do it for me.”

he lifts a brow. “would i?”

you give him a look.

he laughs—low, warm and real. “yeah,” he says. “yeah, i fuckin’ would.”

there’s no kissing here. no touching past a handshake, a goodbye but the way he looks at you?

you feel it everywhere.

and one day, just as the guard calls time, just as he stands and stretches and leans in a little closer than he’s supposed to—

he murmurs, voice quiet, steady. “marry me when i get out.”

you blink. “what?”

but he’s already turning away, that same old grin tugging at his mouth, shouting something crass to another inmate, hands cuffed behind his back.

the door slams shut behind him.

and you’re left sitting there, heart pounding, chain warm between your fingers, replaying those words in your head.

the next time you see him, he walks in wearing that ugly-ass orange jumpsuit as usual, smile already stretching across his face the second he sees you.

“look at you,” he says, voice low and filthy despite the guards. “dressed all nice for your criminal boyfriend.”

you roll your eyes. “you asked me to.”

“yeah. and you listened. you always do” he leans in. “always such a good girl for me.”

the tension’s thick. his wrists are cuffed, but his eyes are on you like he’s already got his hands around your throat.

“heard the news?” he asks casually, voice like honey dipped in gasoline. “early release. next month.”

your breath catches. “wait, are you serious?”

“mmhm.” he leans back, tongue flicking over his teeth. “good behavior.” he grins. “just for you.”

he’s been cleaning up—no fights, no smuggling, no stabbings in the yard, even though he wants to. because he wants to see you again. wants his hands on you. his mouth. wants you under him, not across the table.

“been thinkin’ about what I’m gonna do to you first,” he says, voice lower now, eyes burning. “once i get out.”

you swallow and shift in your seat. “are you gonna behave?”

he laughs. full-bodied, dark. “fuck no. i’m gonna ruin you.”

he leans forward, chained wrists clinking on the table, eyes locked on yours.

“i’ve been locked up seven years, princess. do you know how much time i’ve spent thinking about that sweet little body under mine?”

you feel your cheeks heat, but you don’t look away.

“you better be ready,” he says, voice rough now. “’cause i’m gonna spend the first night out fucking you like i’m tryna get sent right back.”

so thankfully, he’s the kind of inmate that runs the damn yard but keeps his nose clean just enough to qualify for early release. he did beat someone’s ass in the showers last month for talking sideways about you—but still managed to earn “good behavior” by bribing the guards and running literacy programs like a deranged philanthropist.

next time you hear from him he calls you from the jail phone with that lazy, smug tone:

“two more weeks. then i’m home. you ready for that, princess?”

“depends. are you gonna kill anyone again?”

“no, baby. i’m a changed man, pinky promise.”

a pause. “unless they touch you.”

but life as a prisoner’s girlfriend had been interesting to say the least. some your favorite memories though?

the video call visits. the video calls hit different.

you answer from the bed, in his hoodie that thankfully still smelled like him, all soft lighting and skin and love in your eyes.

the screen flickers—and there he is.

inmate #966666. your man. arms crossed, face lit by the shitty fluorescent light in the visiting block. buzzed short on the sides, salmon pink thick on top. face tattoos sharp even in pixelation. smirking. cocky. starved.

“there’s my girl,” he rumbles, leaning in like he’s trying to reach through the screen. “lookin’ all cozy in our bed.”

you smile, soft. “missed you today.”

he leans back, legs spread, grinning. “yeah? say it again.”

you roll your eyes, giggling. “missed you.”

“mm,” he hums. “missed you more, baby. how’s our place lookin’? bought anything new for me to come home to?”

and you have—so you flip the camera around, showing off the new record shelf, the little framed photo of you two from before, and the rug you’ve been saving for.

“can’t wait for you to see it for real,” you say quietly. “can’t wait till you come home.”

his face softens—just barely. eyes half-lidded.

“me neither, princess. every night i picture it. you. the apartment. our bed. my hands all over you again.”

you bring the camera back to yourself, and akuma sits up on the floor beside your bed, tail thumping.

sukuna lights up like a kid on christma.

the dog perks up at his voice, sniffs the screen, tail going harder.

“yo, come here, big man,” he coos. “you takin’ care of my girl, huh? keepin’ her warm at night? …better not be sleepin’ on my fuckin’ pillow.”

you both laugh. but you already know when sukuna gets out, he’s picking that big soft baby up in his arms like it’s nothing, and probably crying into his fur when no one’s looking.

and the letters? worth framing.

he sends them folded perfectly, sprayed with just a hint of your favorite cologne. immaculate. front-and-back, always. tight, clean handwriting. detailed as hell—how he’s doing, what he’s thinking about. sweet shit like “wish i could hold you right now. need it bad.” and spicy shit like: “wanna fuck you face-down ass-up the minute I’m out.” “was dreamin’ about you last night. woke up hard. you owe me.”

one of his first letters had said:

hey baby, how are you? miss you real bad. i woke up thinkin’ about your laugh. that one that comes out when you’re tryin’ not to snort. i miss it. miss you. drawn your face from memory like four times now. don’t tell nobody, they’ll say i’m gettin’ soft. been missing your smell. you smell like home. that sweet vanilla shit you always put on. i look at your pictures every night. even got one under my pillow. even when they toss my cell, i hide it like it’s fuckin’ contraband. you’re my peace. can’t lose you princess.

then they’d switch, just like that.

you know, i thought about that one night. you dancing in the kitchen, making soup, wearing those little shorts. you remember the ones? yeah. me too. that’s why i wrote this with one hand. also last night i laid in this goddamn bunk and imagined the sound you make when you take your bra off after a long day. hard as a rock. you’re such a fuckin’ problem. do you still wear that lacey one i like? the one that barely holds anything? bet your titties are sittin’ real pretty in it right now. fuck me.

i miss how you say my name when you’re tired. i miss how you say it when you’re on top. i miss your thighs around my neck. i miss your mouth. i miss being inside you so deep you forget your own fuckin’ name.

but more than that? i miss watching you eat dinner across from me. i miss you bitchin’ about your coworkers. i miss your fingers in my hair when i can’t sleep. i don’t give a fuck how long it takes, you’re it for me.

and he always had a sketch tucked inside. sometimes it’s little things—your side profile, your body. or sharp, shaded tattoos—ones he designed for you. (something he did on the side when he was still a law abiding citizen). his name in kanji. a snake coiled around a katana surrounded by lilies.

this one’s for your spine. wanna see it when i fuck you from behind.

then, right under that like he didn’t just make you cry and wet at the same time:

…also. take it easy at work. remember to eat. and kiss akuma for me. shit, also, can you put some extra on my books? tryna get you something for your birthday. don’t ask what. it’s not a weapon, swear.

and you do—put money on his books, no hesitation. commissary’s got nothing on you. he’s got honey buns, decent ramen, and the best soap on his block. your man is moisturized and fed. period.

and at the end of a long, loving, slightly filthy letter, he always signed in that perfect script: “ryo. always yours.”

you kept every letter in a shoebox under your bed, every sketch on your corkboard. you read them on bad days. and good ones.

you always wrote back, too— keeping him updated with everything. little doodles, lipstick kisses on the envelope, spritz of perfume here and here. snuck in polaroids of you and akuma. even some spicy ones for his eyes only. always signed with “your/name, always & forever <3.”

oh and those conjugal visits? they most deeeefinitely take the cake.

you had waited weeks for them, marked off in red hearts on the calendar.

one of the first visits:

you walk into that little cold-ass private trailer with a bag packed—cute pajamas, your favorite lotion, that perfume he likes. he’s already there when you arrive, looking like sin in his real clothes. not that orange jumpsuit he’s usually in. eyes glued to you the second you step in.

then he softens. just a little.

you stand. don’t even say anything. just walk straight into his arms. he buries his face in your neck, breath catching like it’s the first inhale he’s had since they locked the door behind him.

“fuck,” he mutters. “you smell good. gonna feel even better.”

his hands are everywhere. rough palms on your waist, your thighs, your ass. lips dragging over your skin like he’s starved—and he is.

he grabs your waist fast, pulls you in for a kiss that’s all tongue and teeth, rough like he’s been starving for you.

“got something to show you,” you whisper, breathless already.

you turn around, pull your dress up, and tug the side of your thong down just enough to show him—

small script. his name. right cheek. close to the curve of your hip.

he goes still. his hand on your ass, thumb dragging right over it. then he finally speaks.

“nah, what the fuck,” he laughs, eyes wide, voice shaking. “you got my name tatted on you?”

you look back over your shoulder, smiling.

“been had it. waited to show you in person.”

his hands are now rubbing all over you, gripping that ass with both hands like it’s his last meal. but then, he’s got you onto the bed so fast the mattress groans. pulls your dress over your head and yanks your panties down. he stares like he’s looking at something holy.

“missed this mouth,” he groans, spreading your legs, licking up your slick with a filthy moan. “missed how fuckin’ sweet you are when you’re beggin’.”

you gasp, already squirming.

he fully buries face between your thighs, hands gripping your waist like he’s starving and hasn’t had a real meal since he got locked up. moaning into your cunt, licking like it’s his last day alive.

“taste like fuckin’ heaven,” he groans. “missed this fuckin’ pussy so bad. missed how you sound when i’m inside you.”

after a two or three orgasms from his tongue and fingers, he finally fucks you. it’s deep, rough, desperate. your legs around his waist, your back arching off the mattress while he pounds into you like he’s making up for lost time. his tip hitting that sweet spot repeatedly in your pussy that makes your body take a fucking screenshot. teeth on your neck, fingers digging into your hips right below where his name is inked into your skin.

he just mutters filthy shit in your ear:

“you got my name on you, and now you’re gonna take all of me.”

“this ass? mine.”

“gonna fuck you so good you dream about it ‘til the next visit.”

then he flips you both, makes you ride him, sucking your tits while they bounce, eyes half-lidded.

“shiiiit, sweetheart—gonna fuck a baby into you in this nasty little room if you’re not careful,” he grits.

and you just moan louder, hands in his hair, riding the edge of pure bliss.

“missed you,” you whisper, staring up at him, cradling his face.

he kisses you. hard. filthy. then soft.

he pulls away breathless. jaw slack, panting like a dog in heat.

“fuck, baby—come on. gimme that shit. come all over my dick. show me how much you missed it.”

you do. messy. loud. milking him for all he’s got.

and he follows right after, hands gripping your ass so hard they’re sure to leave bruises as he cums deep and desperate.

and when he’s done, he kisses your neck, arms wrapped around you.

“gonna marry you when i get out,” he whispers. “i swear.”

you both lie on the tiny mattress after some much needed TLC. tangled up, his head between your tits, your fingers in his hair. he traces your tattoo with his fingers.

“gonna take care of you right, when i get out,” he murmurs, voice rough. “no more bullshit.”

you kiss his jaw. whisper back. “i know.”

and when you left that day, sore and glowing, your man watched you walk away as the guards put the cuffs back on him, mouth curled into a grin, voice low like a promise:

“keep my side of the bed warm, baby. i’m comin’ home. promise.”

and the day he gets out, you’re already there.

you’re standing by the gate before the sun’s even up. his hoodie on, necklace with his name around your neck. you’re trying to play it cool, but your hands won’t stop shaking.

and when that gate finally opened, when ryomen sukuna steps out, a free man, tattoos gleaming in the morning light, black tee hugging his chest, hair grown out just a little, grin already forming.

you don’t even get a word out before he grabs you, spins you around like a goddamn princess. his hands firm on your waist, lifting you like you weigh nothing, face buried in your neck.

“fuck, baby,” he breathes. “missed you so fuckin’ bad.”

you’re laughing. crying a little. arms wrapped around his shoulders so tight it hurts.

he sets you down, but barely. just enough to kiss your cheeks, your jaw, your nose, and then he pulls back, still holding your face like it’s precious.

“you ready?”

you blink. “for what?”

he grins. big. so sure.

“courthouse. thirty minutes away. judge’s on lunch break. said he’ll squeeze us in.”

you blink again. “wait, the fuck? are you—you’re serious?”

“sweetheart,” he says, already dragging you toward the car, “i’ve been locked up seven fuckin’ years. i’m so serious.”

cut to an hour later: courthouse.

fluorescent lights. ugly tile. fake bouquet from the clerk’s desk in your hand. cheap rings in a little box you picked up from the nearest pawn shop on the way there. you didn’t even have time to change. he didn’t care. not even a little.

“you look perfect,” he mutters, adjusting your hoodie like it’s designer couture. “i’m gonna wife you up in my hoodie. that’s so hard.”

you roll your eyes. “you’re such a dumbass.”

“your dumbass now,” he grins emphasizing the your. “permanently.”

you say your vows that came straight from the heart in a cheap government office, between a sleepy officiant and a laminated “no food or drink” sign.

but he looks at you like you’re in a white dress on a mountaintop.

he kisses your hand when he slides the ring on.

says “’bout fuckin’ time,” loud enough that the clerk snorts.

and when they say “you may now kiss—”

he doesn’t wait. he pulls you in, kisses you like he’s trying to breathe through you. it’s deep and messy and a little bit desperate.

you giggle against his mouth.

he presses his forehead to yours, still grinning.

“mrs. ryomen fuckin’ sukuna,” he says proudly. “finally.”

you walk out as husband and wife.

he pulls you in by the hips and kisses you again in the parking lot, hands low, grin wide.

“made good on that promise, yeah?”

you decide not to do anything fancy. no champagne. no five-star dinner.

you celebrate the only way you know how—greasy as hell.

just burgers and fries at that little place you used to talk about in letters and phone calls—the one with the neon sign and checkered floors. sukuna orders double everything, and he’s across from you in sweats and an ankle monitor, eating like a man who forgot what real food tastes like.

he steals your fries when you’re not looking. you slap his hand.

he smirks. “married now, baby. my fries too.”

you share a milkshake. vanilla. extra whipped cream. two straws.

he stares at you across the table like he still doesn’t believe you’re real.

“you know i dreamed about this?” he says, voice rough from grease and emotion. “used to lay there and think about you, right across from me, doing this exact same shit.”

you smile. press your foot against his under the table.

“dream about the milkshake or me?”

he snorts. “both. obviously.”

he takes your hand and kisses your ring finger, red eyes locked on yours and filled with so much love.

and when you finally drive home—real home—his leg’s bouncing the whole way. you both get off the car and head up the steps and you unlock the front door.

“you sure he’s not gonna bite me?”

you snort. “you’re the one who taught him to go for the ankles.”

the apartment is quiet when you pull up. it’s familiar to him, but different. newer furniture. he’s seen it all in video calls but it’s different in person now. his shoes aren’t by the door anymore, but everything else—everything you—is still here. still home.

he hesitates at the threshold. just for a second. like he’s afraid it’ll vanish if he walks in. but then—

“AKUMA!” you call out, voice soft but firm.

and there’s the sound of scrambling paws, claws on the hardwood, and then akuma’s there—gray, stocky, a little older, but still full of love and joy.

the pitbull barrels into the room like he’s about to tear through the walls, skids to a stop, and freezes when he sees him.

sukuna kneels down, slow, whispering. “…yo.”

akuma just stares at first—like he’s short-circuiting. akuma sniffs the air. tail wags once. then again. and then he launches.

sukuna catches all 70 pounds of him like it’s nothing, falling back onto his ass with a grunt as akuma licks at his face like he’s trying to put seven years of love into one minute.

“fuck—okay, okay—goddamn—” sukuna’s laughing, arms tight around the dog’s back, fingers gripping his fur like he’s afraid he’ll disappear again.

akuma’s whining, tail a blur of chaos, body wriggling like he can’t get close enough.

and sukuna—your big, bad, tatted-up, ex-convict husband?

he fucking cries. silent at first. then not. (expected)

his shoulders were shaking, arms wrapped tight around the dog, forehead pressed to his fur.

you just watch from the doorway. hands over your mouth. heart splitting. he looks up at you, eyes wet.

“fuck, baby,” he says, voice cracking. “i didn’t think—i didn’t know if—”

you kneel beside him. touch his back. “he never stopped waiting,” you whisper. “neither did i.”

he pulls you both in—you and akuma—his whole world in his arms now. big, calloused hands around your waist. akuma draped across your laps like a living blanket.

you sit beside him. curl against his side.

“god, y/n, you—fuck—i…,” he whispers into akuma’s fur. “didn’t think i’d get to see you again.”

and for the first time in seven years, sukuna lets himself feel safe.

after you both settle in, it’s quiet now. real quiet. not prison quiet.

no locks clanking. no cell doors slamming. no count. no cold tile or shitty mattress. home quiet.

you’re both clean—fresh from a hot shower, towel-dried hair, his hands all over you the entire time like he couldn’t believe you were real. when he brushed his teeth, he kept making jokes about “first night as a free man, i’m getting minty for my wife.”

his wife.

he’s got everything he dreamed about for the last seven years. sheets that smell like you. a real bed. a dim lamp in the corner next to a photo of you, him & akuma.

and you—standing in the doorway, wearing nothing but one of his old shirts and a look that says finally.

the ring glints on your finger in the dark. he exhales like he’s never really breathed before. he sits on the edge of the bed for a while. just stares at the wall.

you don’t rush him. you know what’s going on in that handsome head of his. this is the place he got arrested in. the same room they tore apart. same windows, same shadows.

“seven years,” he murmurs. “first night back in my bed.”

you walk over. slow. crawl into his lap and wrap your arms around his neck.

“our bed,” you whisper.

he swallows. hard. hands settling on your hips.

eyes drinking you in like he can’t believe you’re real. like maybe he’s still dreaming in some concrete box.

“you’re my wife,” he says, voice thick. “fuckin’ wife.”

you smile against his lips. “so make me feel like it.”and that’s all it takes.

he kisses you hard—mouth desperate, like he’s catching up for all the years he couldn’t. he pulls your shirt over your head, kisses the top of your chest first, then lower. his hands are everywhere. reverent. hungry. he grabs your thighs, flips you onto your back, crawls down between your legs like he’s starving.

and he is.

he pulls your panties off with his teeth. kisses your inner thighs like he’s praying. then licks into you, slow and deep, groaning when your fingers tangle in his hair.

“sweetest fuckin’ thing,” he murmurs against your pussy. “missed this taste every night. used to jerk off thinkin’ about this right here.”

he eats like he’s got time to worship. not rough. not rushed. just…grateful. long licks, fingers curling inside, nose pressed to your clit until your thighs are shaking and your hips are grinding into his face.

“go ahead, baby. be a good girl and come on my face. it’s your first night as my wife. i got shit to prove.”

you come hard. breathless. crying out his name.

and he doesn’t stop. not until your thighs are twitching. not until he’s satisfied.

then he crawls back up, drags your mouth to his, lets you taste yourself on his lips.

“sit on it,” he rasps, voice wrecked. “wanna watch you ride me. wanna feel all of it.”

you straddle him, slow, sinking down onto his cock until you’re full—so fucking full it steals your breath.

he moans, head tipping back, gripping your hips, watching every inch disappear.

“my fuckin’ wife,” he breathes. “look at you.” you move slow at first, hands on his chest, grinding your hips like you’ve got nowhere else to be for the rest of your life.

and he loves it.

he’s got his hands all over you. one on your waist, the other cupping your breast, thumb brushing your nipple.

he fucks up into you, matching your pace, mouth dragging across your throat.

“seven fuckin’ years,” he pants. “you know how many times i dreamed of this?”

you’re shaking now. gasping.

“show me,” you whisper. “show me how bad you wanted it.”

he flips you fast—so fast—lays you down on his bed for the first time in seven years, and fucks you deep, slow, deliberate. the room filled with the most obscene sounds. bed creaking, the sweet, wet squelch of your pussy and his balls slapping against your ass.

he kisses your fingers. your mouth. your ring.

“mine,” he whispers into your neck. “forever. mine.”

you come again. this time with his name in your mouth and his hand locked with yours.

he follows right after—groaning low, buried deep inside you, face pressed to your chest. (definitely pregnant after that)

you collapse on top of him. he wraps you up. presses kisses to your hair. just lays there, breathing with you, forehead to yours, thumb brushing your cheek.

“thank you,” he whispers. “for waiting. for staying. for not giving up on me.”

no more grainy phone calls. no more visits. no more letters. just the two of you home with nothing between you but peace.

he rubs his hand over your back, voice soft.

“we’re good now, yeah?”

you nod, half-asleep. “mhm.”

“told you i’d come back.” he whispers.

after that, it gets quiet again. except akuma’s snoring in the corner like a damn freight train. the door’s locked. the city’s asleep.

and you’re in bed, legs tangled with your husband’s, skin warm from hours of sex and laughter and most of all—relief.

sukuna’s on his back, one arm around your waist, the other tucked behind his head.

he’s watching the ceiling like it owes him something, blinking slow, chest still rising a little too fast. like he can’t quite believe any of this is real.

you lean over him, kiss the ink on his collarbone.

he smiles—lazy and smug—as usual.

“what?” you murmur, tracing a line down his stomach.

he glances at you, eyes half-lidded. “just thinking.”

“oof, that’s dangerous.” you tease.

he huffs a laugh. “yeah.”

you wait and then he says it—quiet, almost like a joke.

“remember the party?”

you blink. “the one where we met. over some shitty, warm beer that toji picked up at the corner store?”

“mmhm.” he smirks, but softer now. “the one where yuki told you not to talk to me.”

you laugh. full and real. “‘don’t. he’s crazy, jail-time type shit.’”

“and you came and sat on my lap anyway.”

“i meeean, you were hot.” you shrug.

“and you’re an idiot.”

you smile, curl into his side, cheek resting on his shoulder.

he presses a kiss to your forehead, knuckles brushing your bare spine.

“guess i should thank your dumbass friend,” he mutters, voice low, already fading into sleep. “she’s the reason i met my wife. my ride or die.”

you smile and don’t say anything. you just hold him tighter, like you’re afraid he’ll disappear all over again.

two years in, then seven apart.

crime. then courtrooms. then shitty vending machine coffee. hundreds of letters and visits.

and now he’s here, tucked against your side, finally. fully.

yours in a way no one ever thought he should be.

you whisper, barely a breath. “guess you’re not so crazy after all, huh?”

he stirs—doesn’t open his eyes—but he hears you and with a rough, half-asleep laugh, he mutters.

“still fuckin’ crazy.”

then he kisses your shoulder, presses closer, and falls back asleep with his hand curled around your wedding ring.

you’re just starting to drift off—his breathing slow against your skin, your fingers still tangled in his hair—when the mattress shifts with a heavy thud.

then a groan.

“no. absolutely the fuck not—” sukuna mumbles, voice hoarse.

akuma, in all his 70-pound glory, launched himself onto the bed. sprawling across both of you like he’s claiming his spot. head wedged on your stomach, paws kicking into sukuna’s ribs.

you laugh, half-asleep. “aw, kuuuna. baby, he missed you.”

sukuna sighs, glaring at the ceiling.

“seven years in prison, and i come home to my traitorous cockblockin’ dog.”

akuma lets out a loud sigh and promptly starts snoring. loud and obnoxious.

you kiss his little boxy head and then sukuna’s temple, still grinning.

sukuna grumbles something under his breath—but his arm curls tighter around both of you.

and you’re pretty sure you heard him mutter the words, “thanks…whoever’s out there.”

© j3llyc4kes

:3 please check out my other works! here’s the master list! <3

a/n: this was pretty long! been sitting on this for about a month now, hopefully you all enjoyed it! let me know if i should continue this or leave it as is! t

[tonycries]

MONSTA!

Synopsis. Mama, you’re in love with a criminal monster!

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Gojo x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, weréwolf!Toji, rúts, bíting, ghostface!Choso, slight knífeplay, breéding, creampíes, knots, true form!Sukuna, dp, smácking, NÉEDY boys, vampíres, turning, clan leader!Gojo, cúlt leader!Geto, exhíbitionism (Geto), mentions of having kíds, PÚSSYDRUNK, squírting, bódy worshíp, pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 5.9k (whoops)

A/N. First post of kínktoberrrr, hope y’all have a lovely month <3

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - FULL MOON FULL YOU!

“Baby–” Toji’s raspy baritone vibrates throughout your squirming body, all the way down to where he was unapologetically stuffing you gapingly full. He’s pressing hot kisses along your face, your neck. Everywhere and anywhere. “Baby.”

You’re never seen him this needy. This unable to hold back. 

And suddenly you’re finding yourself flipped over to straddle his strong hips, the bed creaking strenuously when he jabs up all greedy inches stretching your overfilled pussy open. 

There’s nowhere to run - nowhere to hide from Toji and the way he’s simply dragging you down with five of his thick digits wrapped snugly around your throat. “My baby.”

Truly, he was always so mean to you whenever it was a full moon. 

So determined to make sure you end up just as round and glowing as you are in his wettest of dreams. 

You’re gasping, “Wh-what do you-”

“Whoops” He titters, sucking lewdly on your glossy pout, “Did I say that out loud? But, I mean- really silly girl-” Toji bares his elongated canines at your drunken look of shock. Feral. Depraved. “-what else did ya expect coming to a werewolf in rut?”

Drool trickles down the corner of his mouth when the vicious curve of his fat tip draws relentless glides across your g-spot, mapping you from the inside out. Bouncing you precariously on top of him while he fucked up relentlessly over and over-

“Ah!” you’re yelping when Toji bites down harshly on the tender crook of your neck. Hard enough to draw blood, your hips stuttering down in a lewd thwack! onto his sharper ones.

“F-fuck–” the sharp nails on your fingers just dig into his skin, and it makes him grin. “Right there- hah- right there- need you to cum in me again, Toji-”

“Yeah?” he croons from below, quirking up a dark brow. “Think you can handle it- I mean just look.” There’s a low, sultry growl coming from the very depths of his broad chest when Toji’s pulling out ever-so-slightly. His vice-likehold around your neck tightens even more, breath puffing in raggedly hot pants against your cheek. “Look at this.”

And, fuck, you can’t look away. 

Toji’s gripping the red, angry base of his cock, giving the peak of your puffed-up clit a stinging smack! smack! smack! with the very tip of his weep, rotund head. 

And your overspilling pussy just clenches to coat his throbbing cock in such a milky gloss of cum and saturated slick, dredging down to form a creamy ring at the very bottom of his thick hilt. “Yeahhh- think you can handle it, heh.”

As soon as he’s bullying his length back in-between your sopping wet pussy lips, Toji just throws his head back, darkened eyes rolling to the back of his head.

His mouth just waters, heavy cum-filled balls squeezing so painfully, all the blood in his writhing body flowing into a thick knot at his base. And he has to hold himself back from marking down your neck once again. 

“Fuck- fuck yeah tha’s what m’talking- a-about.” His words are slurring now, heaving. You’ve taken him fully before - but he always grew so massive during this time - all the air knocks out of your lungs at how sinfully he stretched you wide open. “Gonna give ya a baby- gonna- ah- gonna make you such a pretty momma.”

And maybe it was because of the rut - maybe you were just that cockdrunk already - but Toji’s rough handling on your hips were veering into bruising territory. Leaving neat little fingernail patterns along your skin, making use of each and every bit of inhuman strength he had to hammer with such pressurized pummels into your poor pussy.

“Oh-” your jaw slacks open when his sloppy hips jerk you to and fro. It’s like his girth was just molding your plush walls to his size. The calloused curve of his thumb dances upwards to roll over your clit, “Feels so- hngh! So good Toji– oh my god-”

“Ya think god can hear ya right now, baby?” he’s leering, jutting his engorged dick upwards until it leaves a messy puddle of his swelteringly hot cum at your thighs, “Tell me how much you hah- want it.”

Each word is just spat at you, and your breathy little whimpers and moans mumble out into his cushiony pecs. “Want it s-so-”

There’s another mean smack against your sensitive clit. “Nuh uh. No stutterin’”

“Toji–!” Big fat tears are streaming down your eyes, ones he lolls his tongue out to catch. Groaning at the slightly salty taste, “Want it so- hah- so bad. Wan’ you to get me pregnant- ngh!”

Such a deep growl is hissed against your kiss-bitten lips, and it’s all it takes before Toji’s breath hitches - rough - and he cums all over again. 

He barely even slows down, grunting out the hoarse mantra of your name. “Oh fuck-” Toji’s feet plant firmly on the silken sheets, arching his back in a tantalizing curve upwards. Achy cock pushing and pushing until he’s managing to squeeze that fattened knot at the very base of his cock through that first ring of muscle. And then he’s shooting such thick spurts of cum all the way into the very back of your pussy, coating your channel in drippingly wet coats of white. “Yeah- fuck- Take it all- m’gonna make you a- ohhh-” 

As if on cue, his teeth find their way back over where your pulse was thundering rapidly. Marking. Claiming. So filthy that it takes only a few more of his hurried, sloppy swivels before you’re cumming as well. 

You’re breathing out shallowly, smoothing out one of your palms over where you could feel the excess of his seed oozing down slowly along your womb. 

“Oh- don’t do that- f-fuck-” Toji was the one stuttering now, his unsteady hips trying desperately to get back that sultry push and pull from before. Difficult with his knot, he was cockwarming you so thoroughly now, all of his solid inches plugging you full - making sure you take his seed the way he wanted to. And it was killing him. 

“When this thing goes down-” He drags you by the throat to crash your lips against his. Free hand patting at your stomach, “-ya better know m’breedin’ ya once more. Until I physically can’t.”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - BloodLUST

“Hngh- K-Ken-” your syrupy, slurred-out moans sounds so pretty in Nanami’s ears. So greedy just like the way your drippingly wet cunt calls to him, making such a primal part of himself rear its dark little head. ”It feels so- hah– good-”

“Does it now, my love?” Nanami’s intertwining his fingers with yours, gifting a gentle kiss on the back of your hand. His knees spread apart your trembly legs even further, fucking you harder and harder into the cushiony pillows.

God, the mating press he had you viciously folded into felt so torturously good. Exactly his favorite position to have you in - to spear his thick cock into you like an animal. Jostling out your insides until you were stretched tautly around his swelteringly hot cock, stuffed with so many of his solid inches that you could barely speak. 

Yeah, times like this, Nanami was so entranced by your cunt that his pussydrunk self lets his control slip - just a little bit. He could bare his gentle, fawny eyes with something dangerous. Something that had you gulping, nervous gaze flickering down to his sharply glistening fangs.

“Ken-” you’re pulling him closer by his favorite speckled tie - barely even bothering to change out of his work before he caught a whiff of your bubbly sweet scent. Before he just had to have you. Hot breath sending goosebumps down his spine, “I wan’ you to bite me-”

Slam!

Just the thought of that has him heaving his hand down onto the rickety headboard, jaw clenched. Gritting out, “Don’t- fuck, don’t say things you’re not s-sure about.”

And all he gets is your protesting pout, thighs squeezing even tighter around his broad shoulders. Easily swallowing up every inch after inch that slammed so recklessly into your cunt, clingy ropes of precum seeping out of those bare edges. 

“But I am sure.” Your sweet coo makes him just throw his head back, and he can only pant and pant while you’re bringing up a tender hand up to cup his cheeks. Thumbing just barely over the pointed curl of his canines, “I’m sure I want you to f-fuck bite- me-”

It’s like he’s trying to fuck that little plea out of you. Dragging you down those damply silken sheets with one of his big beefy arms. The other smushing your cheeks together, “Tha’s jus’ this needy pussy talkin’, darling.”

“But Ken don’t you wanna be with m-”

“Hush, now.” he’s dragging a slick thumb over the gaping opening of your pretty pussy, eyeing down in wonder at just how much you seemed to clench at this conversation. Your already drenchingly wet channel sputtering out wave after sloppy wave of squelches each time he buried himself to his blond hilt. “Of course- I wish to only be with you for s’long as you’ll have me.” All the way until Nanami was sure he’d leave the lingering convulses of your pussy clamping around nothing, until your eyes were drooping shut, and those pretty whines were all that smart mouth of yours could get out. “But dontcha think s’better to be human? Better than- this-”

Each of his pressurized plunges have the bed creaking protestingly - absolutely no match, and it was a wonder that you hadn’t broken bones. Yet. 

But you knew that Nanami Kento would never hurt you.

It’s what has you dragging him in for a deep kiss, letting him moan harmonically into your mouth. “M’sure.” Drawling out before he could get a second word in, you’re threading your fingers through his undercut, tugging just slightly enough that his breath hitches in a fully deep gasp. “Please- I wanna be with you Ken-” He’s turning to kiss the golden band of your recent engagement ring, slow and lingering. “-forever.”

Nanami just swallows, “As you wish, my love.”

And then he’s biting you - and then you’re cumming. Only, you don’t know which one comes first.

Just that suddenly your fiancé’s surging his hulking body forwards, crushing you under the heavy weight he can’t hold back. Glinting fangs sinking deep into your booming pulse with a raspy groan, you see white - cumming and cumming so hard that all you can do is drag your nails down his muscled back. 

“Oh-” Nanami gasps out, heaving - as if he’d just run a marathon. He’s holding you so sweetly, but fucking you as roughly as your semi-human body would allow. He only parts with your neck for a split-second, before running his hot tongue over and over in long, languid stripes. Drinking you in. Greedy. “Y’taste so sweet- fuck, always smelt so good but- ahhh fuck you taste so- so perfect.”

It’s only a matter of a few sloppy thrusts into your gooey heaven, him just dragging out your high by knocking feverishly into each of your practiced sweets spots. And with a final, slurping lick - Nanami’s cumming.

SNAP!

His thrumming dick flagging once. Twice. Before gushing out in such wet strands of seed, a creamy mess which fills you from the inside out. Only then is Nanami pulling away, letting you see him in all his utterly fucked-out glory - neat hair askew, high cheekbones blushing, mouth snapping with strands of saliva and your blood. It trickles down the twitching corner of his mouth, smearing lewdly when he rests his face atop your jiggling tits. 

His entire body is shaking. Sensitive. Fuck, he’s almost wondering why he didn’t do this sooner.

“Gonna be mine now.” he utters, guttural and deep from within his panting chest. Shallow. Needy. Jerking forwards in addictive little ruts, his furious cock was still beading out pearlescent ribbons of cum. Overfilling you to the brim. It was stretching out your insides full, dredging down each of your sopping wet wall with each fucked out rut. “Mine.”

Nanami takes his hand off of the now-demolished headboard, intertwining his thick fingers with yours. Kissing that metallic band, “Forever.”

♡ GETO SUGURU - Mr. Leader

“Such a naughty girl ya are.” Geto simpers in that dangerously soft tone of his, two of his long, slender fingers draw a sultry circle around the very rim of your sloppily stuffed hole. Just coating it in a glossy sheen of his own cum from earlier tonight, he’s holding it up at the stony-faced crowd on the platform below you two. “Won’t you agree?”

And you can only scrunch your eyes shut in embarrassment at the ripples of whispers - agreement, no doubt, it’s not like anyone had the courage to test your cult leader boyfriend’s patience. Except for you.

“S-Sugu-” you whine. “Don’ hafta be so mean about it-”

You regret the words as soon as they’re tumbling out of your mouth, because that’s all it takes for Geto to unapologetically circle his pretty fingers around the column of your neck. Hauling your pliant self up to straddle his bulgingly angry cock for everyone to see. 

“What was that?” he whispers, lips curling up into a grin. And at your lack of an answer, he’s moving - rocking back and forth in such a slow, purposeful pace. Fingers tightening, “Would you care to repeat that, gorgeous?”

“N-no- ah!” you shake your head, entire body wracking with shudder at the feeling of the absolute mess he was making inside you. Sloshing all over the place, down your trembly thighs, pooling onto the association’s platform. Your hands are jittery once they grab onto his velvety robes, “Didn’t- hngh- didn’t mean it, Sugu…” 

A pout teases its way onto Geto’s face, and with no remorse he’s bending your back into the sluttiest arch for him. Showing off the way those puffy pussy lips of yours were struggling so sinfully around his thick girth, barely being able to accommodate each of the greedy inches you were swallowing so quickly.

“What do you think?” he groans, and you realize with a jolt that he’s not talking to you now. Taunting fingers scissor open your overfilled cunt even more, just having you gapingly held open, “Should I go easy on her?”

Geto doesn’t wait for an answer, instead he’s leveraging that powerful hold around your throat to just drag you down every inch of his thick, throbbing cock. Biting down on his lower lip at the way your gummy walls were so clingy. 

You’re whining an audible ah! ah! ah! at each of his hefty clashes against your g-spot - it echoes all throughout the stage and makes Geto laugh. Laugh.

“They might tell me to go easy-” he’s whispering against your ear, biting down smugly on your jaw. You’re trapped - so utterly helpless in his grasp and fuck do you want it so bad. “-but I don’t know if my girl deserves it.”

Each word of his drips straight to your velvety cunt, clenching in such a lewd pulse that Geto almost considered teasing you about how hard it was to fuck into you just the way he wanted. 

Your sweaty palms cup his face, bringing your lips crashing against his in such a messy, messy kiss. “Please- Hngh- I want it- wanna cum, Sugu. Wanna have you cum in m- mmpf–!”

He’s cutting you off with a harsh suck on your delirious tongue, and another pressurized thrust right into the very depths of your sloppy pussy. You’re all but bawling when he stutters up even harder at his sloppy pace - just rawly bucking up into you, making you take each sweltering kiss his thick head places along your plush walls. 

“Want want want-.” Geto hisses against your lips, gnawing down in warning against them. “All want- I’ve been fuckin’ you for hours now n’ you’re still s-so hah- demanding, gorgeous.” 

His slyly dripping undertone makes you rut your drenched cunt even harder down onto his smackingly sharp pelvis. Another spreading swipe against your sloppily full cunt reveals more of his potent seed dripping out, a sight that makes his mouth water. “Even after I’ve given you so hah- much, still want more, huh?”

And all you can do is nod half-drunkenly, “Want it.” And he has to admire how well you take his bullying thrusts. “Want it, please, Sugu?”

“Well-” that attractively authoritative tone of his voice makes you even more embarrassingly soaked. Planting a slidingly wet kiss against your lips, he raises his voice. “Whaddaya say? Think she’s learned her lesson enough to cum?”

Somewhere in the distance, you think you hear a low “yes.” But you can’t look over your shoulder - not with his steady, vice-like grip still blocking most of your airway. No, but you can just feel the moment when Geto’s bulbously swollen tip just twitches against your cervix, when his smacking balls clench. So hard, so tight.

And the only warning you get - “Cum then, naughty girl.”

Within a few more messy strikes to your g-spot, you do - and it’s all over Geto’s pounding cock, your snug pussy is just gushing all over his crushing hips. Light-headed, vision tinging with black, your nails claw furious red patterns down his wrist at your throat.

“Fuuuuck- yeah, milk yourself. Fuck yourself down on my cock while you cum.” Geto breathes out, voice lilting a few octaves higher than usual. His widened dark eyes lay locked on where your cunt was still coating him in all your slick juices, honeyed and syrupy down into a puddle. “Squirtin’ all over my cock i-in front of- hah- all these people? Ya really are something else, gorgeous.”

Slack-jawed, his glassy gaze only droops in disbelief at the sight of those dredges of cum and your juices dripping down the sopping wet ends of your slit. The way it slipped and slided between you two to make such a glossy mess. “Wastin’ it, too.” 

And you can’t do anything but gasp when his fingers dig even further around your throat, talking - not  you. “Now, do I hafta teach her a lesson about wastin’?”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - “Lookin’ at his t-t-t-FACE!”

“Baby-”

“...”

“Baby, please.” Choso’s gasping, his rounded Adam’s apple bobbing precariously at where you held his pretty little knife deftly to his neck. And despite that, it was the last thing on his mind. “Please- jus’ want ya to fuckin’ move-”

You have to hold back your drunken giggles when he’s practically knocking off his ghostface mask in haste, hurrying to grab a handful of your ass. Squeezing. Kneading. Dragging you downwards to feed inch by fucking inch of his needy cock into your glistening cunt. “Move those pretty hips f’me, why dontcha?”

“Hmmm…” you’re dragging out in that honeyed tone of yours. And it makes the dangerous man just huff so poutily in a way you wished you could kiss away - if only that mask wasn’t in the way, that is. You tug on a soft raven strand of his hair peeking out, “Only if you take that mask off.”

And that makes him keen. It makes him sob. 

It makes him bury his face into the crook of your sweat-sheened neck, easing another riotous half-thrust up into your silken smooth pussy, you’re practically cockwarming him now. “B-but-” Choso whimpers - whimpers. 

One that cracks so lewdly at the end when your cunt gives a clingy squeeze, massaging down the ridges and veins decorating his fat cock. The feeling makes him throw his head back, lips glistening with fucked-out drool. 

He’s trying oh-so-desperately to swivel his achy cock even deeper inside you, hips jutting upwards to rummage your insides tentatively. The very bulbous tip of his cock swirling your insides so deliciously. 

“Please-”

“Take it off.”

Such a pretty cry wrenches out of Choso’s mouth when your glossed lips press a chaste peck onto his mask, accompanied by such a slutty arch of your hip downwards. Snug cunt milking him with just an ounce of what he was begging for. Just a taste. “Please- please please plase- fine- fuck! You win! Just please-” And you’re barely even given the time to react before he’s snatching back the knife in your hands. Cutting off his mask in an easy motion. “-fuck me!”

And oh was this ghostfaced intruder so pretty - his dark, dewy eyes filled to the brim with pussydrunk tears, lids drooping down slowly when he feels himself twitch. Hair disheveled and damp, there was such an innocently rosy blush all over his cheeks. 

With wobbly, ravaged lips, he pleads, “Please. Fuck me, baby. Use me.”

And you just can’t help but slam your stuttering hips so sloppily down onto his, feeling the echoing smack! of his tight balls sting against your ass. Just two seconds of your riding him has him whining, his greedy hands didn’t know where to be now - at your poor, neglected clit, or maybe guiding your tantalizingly perky nipples to his mouth, maybe even letting you take back his prized knife. 

“Oh-” your mouth crashes messily into his. Hypnotic. Each push and pull of your tongues is accompanied by your sopping wet pussy coating him in another wave after wave of syrupy slick. It leaves him speechless. “Such a pretty, pretty boy. What a hah- shame you wear that mask.”

His head was so fucked. Just that little compliment makes him throb, hauling you down even further to feel his syrupy sweet precum sloshing around your gummy walls. The angry rounded divot on his fat head jostling inside you to bang right into your poor g-spot. It just felt so good.

“You- you think I’m hngh- pretty?” He’s batting his long lashes up at you, and you feel his strong arms tighten around the small of your waist. Your hardened nipples scratch so tantalizingly against the fabric of his thick black cloak. “You really- really think I’m-”

Each word is heaved out in-between such sloppy thrusts, and the way you’re sucking him up so needily - so heavenly makes him moan. And you could’ve sworn you felt his achy shaft grow two sizes larger, contorting your elastic walls.

Sucking on your tongue between his pretty lips, “You’re so- fuuuck- didn’t know it could feel this good. Ngh- please- more- want more-”

“So greedy–” you teasing, eyeing down at the way that only makes his blush grow darker. But that doesn’t stop him - no, the very thought of stopping isn’t anywhere on Choso’s mind. 

In fact, he’s only shuddering out a few sloppy thrusts into your gummy cunt before taking your sensitive clit between two fingers. Rolling his thumb gingerly, he mewls through lingering kisses. “Does it feel good, baby?” And oh he can’t take his eyes off of you, rutting upwards to chase after the lewd squelch! squelch! squelch! from down below. “You’re ah- t-taking me so ngh, well. Fuck-” Head just throwing back at the mere sight of your puffy folds stretching out widely around his girth, bulging when he unapologetically bullies every inch of him. “Please- tell me it feels good.”

Your grip just sears across his scalp when you tangle your fingers through his soft strands, baring his entirely pussydrunk face. His fucked-out grin, the way each bouncing pace of your hips had it growing wider and wider, eyes rolling to the back of his head. So pretty.

“Mhm, so good, Cho–” you moan, your fully stuffed cunt flutters at just how shamelessly that makes him throb. Letting you hover his knife just barely up, up, up his heaving chest, nipping lightly at Choso’s pale neck. “Makes me so hah- h-happy when you’re behaving f’me. Like you’re my good boy.”

He’s nodding before you’re even finishing the sentence, one hand tightening at your waist. Bruisingly so. The other drawing insistent, messy little circles, “Mhm, m’your good boy– always gonna be- hngh-” It drags from his throat guttural and raw. Leaning up to kiss such a sloppy kiss against your lips, “N’ I wanna fuck you like I am, baby.”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - Demon time?

“Tch-” You’re gulping when the towering demon in front of you quirks up his brow sharply. Admonishingly. Crossing all four of his arms over his muscled chest while you sat all pretty and fucked-out on his manspread lap. “How are ya gonna summon the king of curses n’ not even be able to take both his dicks, brat?”

He’s rolling his eyes at you’re protesting little whines, shifting done further on his decadent throne to have his fat cockspearheading even deeper. 

Smack! All five of his thick fingers burn brandingly into the fat of your ass, the very motion makes you jump, your trembly legs tightening around his toned waist. 

“Now now, I didn’t say to jus’ act all cute n’ cockdrunk, did I?” His rough hands push apart your legs even more, another third hand is slotting into the hot core between your legs. And Sukuna smiles at the way you’re so soppingly wet, squeezing your puffed-up folds even further apart to swallow his twin girths. “All I want is for you to- take- it-”

Oh, right now you couldn’t speak. Couldn’t even breathe with the way it felt like Sukuna was stretching out your insides so sinfully. Your pussy being stuffed to her poor limits, both of his hefty cocks bully their greedy way inside you. 

“O-oh–” you’re whining so sweetly in his ear when one of his fat, bulbous tips press up into your g-spot. Slow. Still. But not for long - because that large, ravenous tongue split across Sukuna’s abs open wide to slurp at your pulsing clit. Depraved. “Kuna- oh my god it f-feels so good- hngh-”

“Kuna?” he seethes. Each of his stacked cocks find their way knocking at your womb, marking you where no human had before - exactly how he liked it. “You dare call the king of curses “Kuna” brat?”

Tearily, you look up into his glowingly red eyes, “M’-m’sorry, Sukuna- didn’t think-”

But any and all answer is purposefully being fucked out of your now thoroughly hazy brain. He’s grabbing at your hips to plunge into your drippingly wet channel, brandishing that tongue on his stomach to roll harshly over your clit. Circling the very tip over and over the sensitive nub - all while he simply lounged on his royal throne. 

“Didn’t tell ya to not call me that, did I?” Sukuna scoffs, and if you were in any better state of mind you could’ve sworn that there was a light tinge of red tainting the very tips of his ears. “Tch- now don’t you fuckin’ look at me with those pretty eyes-” He’s giving your ass another clingy smack! Having you bouncing up and down easily along both of his impressive girth. “If ya wanna be fucked by a demon so bad then be fucked, woman.”

And shit- you could already feel the way his sharp hipbones dug into your ass, the resounding thwack! thwack! thwack! of his heavy, twitching balls echoing across the dimly-lit throne room you’d been thrust into. 

“Please- Kuna–” your arms make their limp way around his neck. And the slight change in angle has him assaulting into the line of your cervix, fucking two girthy divots into the spongy bottom. You crane upwards to kiss him in a way that makes him smile at how you struggle. “M’gonna feel ya for the next week, hngh- s’so much better than any human–”

Smack!

“What a naughty little minx ya are.” he jeers, but you could feel the way his throbbing cocks weep happily at your admission. Flooding your cunt with splatters of heated precum, slobbering out of you with each of his animalistic rams. “Really underestimated you, little human- hah! N’ look at you now, about to cum all because of a big bad demon. Aren’t ya embarrassed?” 

You couldn’t shake your delirious head “no” fast enough, and not wasting a moment’s time Sukuna’s planting such a deep kiss on your pouty lips. “Well then, aren’t you an interesting one, huh? Begging for the king’s cock.”

“Mhm–” you’re mewling, gliding your drooling pussy easily down his bulging cock. “Wan’ you- wanna cum- wanna- hah-”

You’re gifted with another one of his mean slaps, “Make up ya damn mind, brat. So greedy.”

But he doesn’t stop - doesn’t even think of it, actually. Because Ryomen Sukuna would never admit it but fuck, were you so perfect like this. So gorgeous. So very his. 

You’re already so full of him that you could almost spot the massive outlines of where he was steadily attacking your sweet spots. Draw a line across where he ended, rotund heads marking their way inside.

That he can’t help but increase that strikingly sloppy staccato of his, fucking you repeatedly stupid. He just lunges forwards to have you riding both his monster cocks and his tongue, the stimulation of it making him bite his lower lip. 

“Oh- yeah–” It takes every embarrassed fiber of his being to stop from rolling his eyes to the back of his head. The fourth of his beefy hands coming up to tweak your hardened nipples, tugging and teasing - just barely treading with his long nails. “Cum all over my cocks then if ya- hngh- if ya like it that much.” His feral hips snap! up even harder, leaving you with a final, unforgettable smack! “Cum for me, my queen.”

“Fuck- m’cumming-” you’re whining not even a split-second later. Head thrown back, your hips stutter down frantically to meet his, over and over- you can’t stop. He can’t stop. “M’cumming m’cumming- fuck fuck fuck, Kuna-”

Two of his engulfing arms wrap around you, pinning you to his cushiony pecs. He’s wrenching out each white-hot spark of pleasure, making your toes curl at every clash against the bullseye of your g-spot, every blissful lick to your clit. He groans throatily, smug grin simpering in place, “Yeah- heh, best believe m’keepin’ you after this.”

♡ GOJO SATORU - Madam.

There’s such a saccharine sweet whine leaving Gojo’s pouty mouth, fingers twitching wildly where they were pinning you down onto the cushiony pillows. “F-fuck- stop- hah, stop squeezin’ me like that or m’gonna cum early on our wedding- night-”

You can only jitter your hips back into his even further, knees aching from holding you up for so long now. Just a few hours ago you’d been wedded to the infamous head of the Gojo clan and now - well, now he was well and fully intent on proving to everyone in this estate exactly why you’d make the perfect madam.

“Toru–” you’re mewling, looking over your trembly shoulder to spy upwards at him. Fuck, the elders would faint if they saw how utterly defiled he was right now. 

His strong arms twitchy and flexing with each hammering thrust, the weight of his muscled thigh hiked up to pummel at the very bottom of your spongy pussy. You felt so soft, so soppingly wet inside with sloshes of his seed from before coating him with each passing second. 

“Heh.” Gojo hovers forwards to pat at your tummy, cutely bloated with all of his throbbingly thick inches. “All stuffed full of me- isn’t that right, wifey?”

“Y-yes.” 

“Nuh uh, louder, sweetheart.” he cuts off your babbling. “Wan’ everyone in this godforsaken house to hear.”

The bed creaks in sinful synchrony with your sappy whines, and the lingering smack! of his hips against yours, achy cum-filled balls sticking to your thighs. Shit, he saw stars behind his eyes with each clingy pull out of your tight pussy - and it drove him mad. 

“I-  I want-”

“Louder.”

“Fuck- yes!” It’s just about all you can get out before he’s crashing his pussydrunken-grin against yours in a messy clash of a kiss. Tongue lolling out to suck on yours, glassy eyes drooping just barely shut. You moan, “I want you to cum inside me again- Now. Gimme an hngh- heir.”

Oh. 

Oh fuck, that did it. 

“You want an heir?” he breathes, and it’s about several octaves higher than normal. Raspy. Reverant. “An heir- fuck!” Suckling softly on your neck, “S’my pretty wife wants an heir, huh?”

The very thought makes him giddier than it should’ve, and oh he’s choking back guttural whimpers. The sensitive divot at the very end of his swollen cock emitting steamingly hot wisps of milky white precum already. 

“Mhm–” you’re nodding, keening at the hefty weight of his muscled body pressing down into yours. Rippling abs rubbing up and down against your back at each jaggedly sloppy thrust, it’s like he’s just hauling you further and further up the decadent mattress. Batting your tearful lashes. “Want it so bad- Wontcha breed me, Toru? Fill me up?”

At this, one of his massive arms comes down to press hard at your womb. And fuck he was practically squeezing you dry, letting the thickly hot dredges of his cascade down your thighs. 

“Ohhhh yes. Look at that.” he’s groaning, the curving head of his fat cock bumping into those various ridges of your sweet spots inside. “Already so full of me and you hngh- w-want more? The new madam is getting bossy, hm?”

God, you felt so good that you’re scrambling towards those plushy expensive covers. Stammering out, feeling so delirious and stupid on his massive cock. “S-so what? What if I jus’ wan’ make you a daddy?”

He’s kissing oh-so-gently against your spit-glossed pout, acting for all the world as if his vigorous cadence isn’t just rendering you half-speechless. “Nothing wrong- ah- nothing wrong at all, in fact.”

That squelching staccato from down below was so loud now that you were sure it would be heard. But Gojo didn’t care - the last thing on his mind in fact. Gojo’s driving even more vigorously to kiss your g-spot with more of his precum. “In fact- I just hope that every one of those fuckers know it.”

And perhaps tomorrow, none of those usually-sneering elders will look you in the eye, and all of the housestaff will blush when they see your state - but right now, all you’re doing is cumming. 

“T-Toru–!” you’re screaming out, letting him grab both your wrists from behind you to drill himself even more solidly. He’s letting all the sloppy mess from before pool down onto the sheets, a lewd puddle that makes him slip n’ slide even deeper inside. “M’cumming- fuck fuck fuck- m’cumming ah-”

And Gojo only flashing you a leering smirk, hoisting you upwards to fuck you through each and every one of those crashing waves of pleasure, those jolts of electricity that have you twitchy so perfectly around his considerably large girth. “Heh- I already know, sweetheart. Can feel ya- hngh- trynna milk me- fuck. This pussy’s too- hah- good-”

His smug smile is dipping away from his pretty face, sweat perspiring like crazy across his lolling forehead. And before long, Gojo’s crying out your name like a broken mantra. Rough hands coming to pin you up against his hard muscled front, just pumping you full of every single one of his sticky ribbons of cum. 

It’s so hot, so potent, barrelling into your gummy walls and making you so soaked inside. His body shakes on top of yours, and you’re flinching at the soft pitter patter of his big, fat tears of sensitivity.

“Oh- my wife- my wife my wife-” he bites his bottom lip raw, head thrown back, throat shot. Cumming and cumming until he couldn’t anymore. Until his sensitive length was weeping nothing more than milky wisps of precum, blanks, even. Pulling out ever-so-slightly, he watches the sheer volume of seed slobber from between your syrupy sweet folds, squelch squelch squelch so loud it rings across his ears. 

Satoru catches your lips in such a gentle, gentle kiss, “Again. I don’t think the entire estate knows they’re having an heir soon, yet.”

A/N. Hnghgh vampire Nanami - also I headcanon that the elders got the Gojo Estate soundproofed after that.

Plagiarism not authorized.

[selfcarecap]

Practice [L.H]

pairing: Logan Howlett x reader

summary: Your roommate Logan lets you practise giving a blowjob on him for your date with another guy.

warnings: smut, 18+, oral sex (f&m receiving, reader’s first time), Logan is a liittle mean but just a little and he gets softer towards the end, spitting,  jerking off, Logan keeps his socks on I think it’s hot okay 😭😭, Logan calls reader bub, baby, good girl, pretty girl; Wade is mentioned but I’m imagining a younger Logan than in DP&W

word count: 3.2k (this was supposed to be a drabble lol idk what happened)

“Who’s the lucky guy?” Logan asks from the sofa as you walk past him in your pretty date outfit. You’ve got some time left before your date but you decided to get ready early in a bout of nervousness.

“This guy I’ve been seeing,” you tell him, trying to seem nonchalant. You haven’t yet mentioned to Logan that you’ve been on a few dates. He spends a lot of time in his room, away from you and Wade, and he just never happened to be there to hear about your dates.

Logan mutes the tv. “What guy?”

“Met him online.”

“And he’s so good to you that you get this pretty for him?”

You smile at his indirect compliment and sit down next to him.

“Yeah, he’s nice. I… I think we might go a step further today,” you feel your cheeks heating up, “I’m kind of nervous.”

You see his jaw clench slightly, “If he’s a good guy he shouldn’t make you nervous.”

“I’m not nervous because of him, it’s just that it would be my first time. And I don’t want to be bad.”

He chuckles and leans back, “You won’t be bad. Just make him go on top.”

Logan isn’t taking your hint, so you take a deep breath to gather your courage. “What if he wants me to go down on him and I don’t know how to do it? Will you…” your voice falters as his eyes meet yours.

“Will you help me?” you stutter and Logan immediately begins to smirk. Embarrassment spreads through your body.

“Help you how?” He asks, smug.

It’s too late to go back now. “Well, I don’t know. Like, explain how it works or.. you could show me?” you shrug.

“You probably know better than me how to find porn online.”

“No, I mean show me on you.” That’s all the courage you can muster for the day and you wonder if you will even have the strength to look back into Logan’s eyes. He solves that problem for you, putting a finger under your chin and pushing it up so you’re looking at him.

“You wanna suck my cock?” He sounds annoyed and you immediately want to die.

“It wouldn’t have to mean anything,” you look at his cheeks, his nose, anywhere but his eyes, “I just wanna know if I’m doing it right. It’s okay if you can’t cum, I just want to practise.”

Logan scans your face for a sign of discomfort – other than your embarrassment – but he doesn’t find any. His features soften, “You really wanna go down on me, bub?”

You nod quickly, “For practice.”

“Mhm, for practice.” He’s mocking you, but all you can do is ignore it.

A thrill shoots through your body at his next words: “C’mere then.” He spreads his legs, clothed in jeans that strain around the thickness of his delicious thighs. You can see the outline of his abs through his tank top. You can’t believe this is happening – you’ve had a crush on him since you saw him for the first time.

Logan beckons you between his legs and you move to sit on the carpet, its fluffiness stopping your bare knees from hurting. Your short skirt rides up your ass and you pull it down self-consciously despite what you’re about to do.

“You sure about this, bub?” Logan asks again from above you. You gulp when you look up at him. How does he look even better from below?

“Yeah,” you assure him, your panties already growing wet. You sit down and try to patiently wait for instruction but you end up squirming. When you look back up at Logan he’s got one of his eyebrows raised.

“You don’t know how to open a belt either?”

“Well, yeah but don’t we have to–” your mouth starts to water when the rough clink of his belt interrupts you. He’s all but ripping open his belt; he unbuttons his jeans and takes out his hard cock. You almost get goosebumps.

“Oh,” you say.

“If a guy likes you, he doesn’t need any time to get ready. Foreplay is just to get the woman nice and wet,” Logan tells you, although you’re barely listening. All you know is that you wouldn’t need the foreplay either, you’re uncomfortably wet, trying to get friction against your legs that are folded underneath you.

Logan watches you stare at his erection, “Take your top off. I like seeing your pretty face but that’ll make it an even nicer view.”

“But I’m not wearing anything underneath,” you thumb at the thin straps of your top.

He smirks, “even better.” He reaches down to pull the top up by your waist but then hesitates.

You nod but Logan rolls his eyes. “Use your words.”

“You can take it off,” you say but you nevertheless put your arms in front of your tits when he pulls your top over your head. 

Logan chuckles, “Baby, I’ve been dying to see your tits since I first met you. You really think you gotta hide?” The nickname makes you melt and your arms immediately drop to your sides. 

You sit up straighter as Logan lets out a low moan, “God, look at you. So fucking perfect.” He reaches out to grope your tits almost clumsily. His cock bobs in front of you as he leans down to touch you and you feel yourself getting addicted to him already. You just want to start.

With a last rough squeeze of your tit, Logan leans back. “Wet your lips,” he instructs. You lick your lips.

“Wetter,” he says, and your eyebrows crease in confusion as you lick your lips again.

Logan huffs, spits into his hand, and smears his spit over your mouth, “There. Don’t you look fucking pretty like this.” You just about purr against his hand and then push against it with your cheek.

You place your hands on either of his knees and lean in to kiss the tip of his cock, all swollen and ready. You immediately feel the urge to go further but your shyness takes over, so you keep pressing wet kisses to his length.

“God,” Logan groans, leaning his head back in pleasure as you keep kissing, and you start to use some more spit.

“Look at you, don’t even need me to tell you what to do,” he pulls his arms behind his head smugly, like an asshole, and you smile, getting shy again. You kiss along the underside of his cock some more, getting more desperate with every second.

“What now?” You ask. 

Logan softly smiles at you for a second, pulling his jeans and boxers further down his thighs. You pull them off completely as he pulls off his top. He’s naked in front of you now, except for his socks, and you take a second to appreciate all the broadness and his muscles. The hair from his chest all the way over his abs and down to his cock is begging for you to kiss every inch of it but you force yourself to focus.

Logan takes his cock in his hand to lift it out of the way, and slowly starts to jerk off. His eyes go to you and then to his balls, and you get what he wants you to do. Still, he gives you one word: “Lick.”

You move forward, inhaling all his manly smell, instinctively going to press another wet kiss to his cock. You let spit pool in your mouth and begin to lick all over his balls, feeling the heaviness of them on your tongue.

“Take as much as you can, baby,” he rasps, continuing to jerk off. You almost slap his hand away – you want to be the one making him feel good – but you stop yourself.

You do as he tells you, opening your mouth to cover as much of him as you can, the warmth of his balls against your tongue making you drool.

“Yeah, baby, juuust like that. That’s a good girl,” he breathes heavily.

Your pussy clenches around nothing at his words, and you have to take a deep breath to focus on anything but the wet ache between your thighs.

His balls move against your tongue from his jerking off, and you gently suck on the skin, moving around a few inches every few seconds. But the movement from his hand on his cock is becoming distracting and, without thinking, you instinctively push his hand away. 

He stills and then smiles, lifting his hand away. He lightly leans his elbows on the back of the sofa to the sides of him. 

“You can start sucking my cock now if you’re ready, baby. Been doing such a good job.”

“I don’t know if I can take all of it,” you pout. Even just imagining his dick down your throat feels too much, though not in a bad way. He’s just so fucking big. 

“Just take as much as you can. I bet you can take more of me than you think.”

His words motivate you. You go up slightly on your knees, carefully wrapping your hand around his cock. You spit on it, letting it slowly slide down the sides as you begin to spread it with your hand. 

Logan huffs out a laugh from above you, “So adorable. You don’t need to be so careful. Here, do it like this.” He wraps his much bigger hand around yours and he starts to jerk off with your hand, showing you how rough you can be as he starts to fuck your fist. 

You clear your throat, “Can I use my mouth now?”

He bites his lip, “Ready when you are, baby. Just breathe through your nose and relax.” Oh, you’re relaxed. Being between Logan’s meaty thighs is the best you’ve felt in your life. 

You press another kiss to the tip of his cock and part your lips to take him in your mouth. The first second you feel the heaviness of his cock on your tongue is like heaven. Logan lets out a low moan and you look up to find his eyes already on your face. He looks like a god from below, his muscles starting to glisten with a thin layer of sweat.

Opening your mouth wider, you take more of him. You start to jerk him off where your mouth can’t reach but you do your best to go as deep as you can, moving up and down with your wet mouth.

The feeling of Logan’s cock in your mouth is addicting, and the quiet sounds he is making even more so. 

“Doin’ so good for me, baby,” he whispers, voice weak. You look up into his eyes as you suck his dick, spit starting to run down your hand, and a smirk spreads on Logan’s face.

“Such a pretty girl,” he leans his head back.

Your jaw is starting to strain because he’s so big but you never want to stop doing this. You swallow down the taste of his precum and can’t wait to actually make him come. He’s starting to pulse in your mouth, abs contracting with every time your tongue moves.

You’re wondering how much long–

“Y’gonna make me come, baby. Gonna come so hard,” Logan moans, and you figure he’s warning you but you want nothing more than his cum in your mouth.

You put in all the effort you can, sucking Logan’s cock further down your throat, cheeks hollowing. You start to feel him at the back of your throat, spit spilling from your lips.

Logan groans, and then he’s filling up your mouth, pumping his cum down your throat as you eagerly swallow. You look up at him through your lashes, taking in his face, his eyes shut and mouth hanging open in pleasure as a long, almost pathetic, groan comes out.

He’s coming longer than you’d expect, coming in your mouth in sticky ropes, a hand guiding the back of your head. You still pout when he’s finally drained and he slowly pulls his hips back.

Logan sighs a last breath of pleasure and holds his hand in front of your mouth. “What?” you ask.

“Spit.”

“Uh, I swallowed,” you say.

“Really?”

You stick out your tongue for Logan to see your empty mouth.

He smirks. “God,” he huffs, “so fucking perfect. C’mere.” He pulls you up to the sofa and sits you on his lap, your bare chest against his. Logan pushes his mouth against yours, kissing you like he’s filled with a new desire, as if you didn’t just make him come.

You don’t get to kiss him for very long though, because he pulls you to lie down on the sofa, turning so your legs are spread around him.

“‘m gonna show you what it’s supposed to feel like for someone to eat your pussy. Just so you know your date is doin’ it right, ‘kay?”

What date? You almost ask. You remember for a second but then, looking at him, all of your thoughts are replaced with Logan again. “Yes,” you nod hornily, “Please.”

“There you go, got you even saying please now. You want it that bad, huh?”

All you can do is nod as he pulls down your skirt and panties. He almost goes cross-eyed when he sees your pussy for the first time.

“God, baby, you coulda said something. Such an eager little thing. You got that wet from having my cock in your mouth, hm? Gonna make you come so good, yeah?”

You nod again and he bends down to press another sloppy kiss to your lips, kissing down your neck and stopping at your chest, “Can’t get enough of these,” he plays with your tits, desperately grabbing at them like a man seeing a woman naked for the first time.

He smiles up at you when he realises how much time he’s spent at your chest, pressing a last kiss to your sternum before placing one of his big hands on your tit and kissing further down. You assume he’s going to stop before he gets to your pussy, just to tease you, but he kisses all the way down from your belly button to your clit, starting to make out with your pussy.

“Logan,” you moan, your hand flying to his hand on one of your boobs.

“Feel good?” He asks, and you almost faint when you look at his head pushed between your thighs. He looks exactly right, as if this is where he was meant to be the entire time.

“Mhmm.”

He chuckles against your pussy, tongue darting out to play with your clit. The ache between your legs starts to get worse with him there, and you feel your pussy clenching around nothing.

Logan smirks and pushes your thighs further apart with a rough hand. He starts to gently rub your clit, and you’ve finally got the friction you’ve been needing this entire time. You’re already close. 

You let out an involuntary moan as he pushes his thick middle finger inside you, and you grip his hand on your tit harder, and he squeezes you there, lovingly. 

“I got you, baby,” he says into your pussy before starting to fuck you with his finger, pushing another one in as he begins to rub a sweet little spot inside that you can never reach yourself. 

He leans in to start licking your clit again, circling it with his tongue and, ever so slightly, beginning to suck. 

You’re so close, the waves of pleasure almost, just almost, flooding over you. You squirm, your knees pushing together, held open by his broad shoulders. 

Logan sucks harder, fingers fucking into you with your clit pulsing against his tongue. 

It only takes a few more seconds of Logan’s mouth on your pussy for you to come. Pleasure explodes within you and floods your entire body as you arch your back, pushing further into him and his wet mouth and thick fingers.

Logan doesn’t stop until you’re satisfied and your legs go numb around him.

He grins at you, biting his lip to stop his smile from spreading too far, and he presses a kiss to the middle of your belly, squeezing your tit gently before letting go. You feel cold without him there.

With your legs still around him, you instinctively pull him in and he lies down next to you on the sofa, gently caging you against the back of it to give you the more comfortable side as he balances on the edge.

“You wanna know how good you taste?” Logan asks, not waiting for an answer before he kisses you. You slide your hand behind his neck to pull him in, tasting yourself on his tongue.

He stops kissing you. “So.. you still going on your date?”

You feel your cheeks getting hot, “What if I told youuu…” you twirl a strand of Logan’s hair that’s hanging over his forehead, “that there never was a date. Or a guy.”

Logan breaks out in a smile, “You were too shy to ask me to fuck you so you made up an entire person?”

You hear the key turning in the lock in that moment, and even though you’ll be covered by the back of the sofa Logan shields you with his hands as best as he can, reaching for your clothes.

Wade comes in and you immediately sit up, holding Logan’s hand and forearm to your tits to cover them.

“Guess what happened?” you squeal at Wade.

Wade’s eyes go over to you and then to Logan, and he drops his bags of grocery shopping to jump up and down, “Was it my plan? I told you my plan would work!”

You grin, “It was your plan.”

Logan looks between you and Wade, rolling his eyes but he’s unable to hide a smile.

“It was a good plan, right? I told her she could just ask you out but she was too shy so I told her to make up a guy she’s dating,” Wade explains.

“Alright,” Logan laughs quietly, “Now fuck off so I can fuck my girl again.”

Wade’s eyes go wide and he says what you’re thinking, “My girl? I’d faint if he called me that. You owe me,” he points at you.

You blow a kiss at Wade and he pretends to catch it, pressing it to his lap. You roll your eyes and smile, waving at him, “You heard him, we’ve got stuff to do.”

The almost animalistic smirk Logan gives you when Wade is gone should scare you, but it only makes you want him more. He picks you up in his arms, carrying you to his room. You can’t wait for what’s to come.

-

P.S. Logan thinks good girls reblog and comment on the fics they enjoy 🩷🫣

[millermouth]

Hi angel!

I’m here for a request, but not a typical one. I want to request that you finish something you’ve been working on but maybe are nervous that people won’t want it. Something YOU have always wanted to write.

Okay that’s it love you bye 🖤

𝐒𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐂𝐨𝐰𝐛𝐨𝐲

Summary: You tried to love Joel Miller the way he was. But eventually, the silence, the walls, the way he kept you at arm’s length… it broke something in you. So you let him go. || angst! fluff! smut! we got it all! MDNI 18+, Jackson!Joel, break up, joel is bad at feelings, makeup sex (eventually), pinv, love makin', lots of kissing cause I wanna kiss him, fingering, f!receiving oral, and yeah its a little corny idc, tiny mention of an age gap|| Inspired by Kacey Musgrave's song Space Cowboy a/n: taylorrrrrrr my angel girl I could cry ilysm. I’ve always had this thought that Joel Miller, at least at first, would be emotionally unavailable and like...not willing to really date. In p1, he’s constantly shutting Ellie down when she brings up Tess or Sam and Henry, Tommy when he offers him that photo of Sarah. Sure, by the end he’s more open, because Ellie made him feel something again. But I think being romantically involved would be hard for him at first. I've always wanted to explore that, and this been collecting dust in my wips since I wasn't sure how everyone would feel. so all this to say....here you go :')

For once, Joel Miller stayed the night.

Not by accident, not because he was drunk off his ass and you made him crash on your couch. No, you’d seen that version of him more times than you could count. But last night, after fucking you hard enough to leave dents in your drywall from sheer force of the headboard, he’d collapsed beside you, pulled you against his chest, and… stayed.

Almost like he meant to.

So god forbid you woke up the next morning with your cheek against his bare chest, your thigh slung over his hip, still foggy brained in the haze of sleep, and asked if he wanted to go grab breakfast at the dining hall.

You might as well have asked What are we?

Or worse: Will you be my boyfriend forever and ever, Joel?

Now he was out in your living room, shoving his boots on by the front door as sun poured in dusty light across the floorboards. You leaned against the archway in his flannel, bare legs out, nothing but the socks on your feet and silence in the air.

You watched him with narrowed eyes. To say you didn’t know what this was would be like saying the sky wasn’t  blue. And you weren’t a liar.

Because you saw it, saw the same pieces being shunted between you. He was building it up again. Brick by brick. That impenetrable wall was back high and tight.

“I don’t get it,” you said finally.

He didn’t answer, only grunted. 

Of course.

“You come here a few nights a week, we hookup and then…what? I don’t exist once your pants are back on? The one night you actually stay with me and I ask you to eat breakfast, I’ve suddenly crossed a line?”

“That’s enough,” Joel muttered, jaw clenched tight.

The way he said made your stomach twist something ugly.

“Yeah,” you said, letting out a long breath as your voice flattened into something stale, “You’re right. That’s enough.”

You stepped in front of where he was sitting, his chin tilting up to meet your eyes for once. His brows furrowed, but he didn’t back down. He just looked at you like he didn’t understand why you were standing in the way of his exit.

“What do you want, Joel?”

He shook his head and leaned down to finish tying his boots. “Don’t want nothin’ from you.”

That stung more than it should have. “Trust me,” you said scoffing. “I got that message a long time ago.”

He stood, slow but abrupt, towering over you as if it was easier to loom than feel anything at all. “What is it you want from me, girl?”

“I want you to admit there’s something here!” you finally snapped, your blood beginning to boil, “I want you to act like all these nights mean something! Like I’m not just a warm body you crawl to when you’re lonely.”

His mouth opened, but nothing came out.

“I want you to talk to me. I want something real. But you don’t even try.”

“I am tryin’,” he said, eyes squeezing shut once before looking at you under heavy brows.

“No, you’re not,” you said, and your voice cracked, not quite out of sadness, but rage. “You’re just—” your hand cut the air, motioning to all of him. “You’re existing, Joel. Going through the motions like you’re waiting for it all to be ripped away. You’re so damn scared of letting anything good happen that you’re choking the life out of it before it can even start.”

His jaw twitched, shoulders stiffening. That look in his eye—rage, grief, guilt—you weren’t sure which it was, but it burned cold and hard beneath the surface.

“You don’t know what it’s like,” he said quietly, but there was venom behind the words. “You don’t know what I’ve done.”

“Then tell me.” You stepped closer, letting your voice drop to something soft and gentle as you lifted your hands to his chest. You looked up into his eyes, now dark as storm clouds above a forest as you whispered, “Let me in.”

He didn’t answer, only stood there, breathing slow through his nose, his body rigid like he was waiting to be hit.

You shook your head, your hands falling back down to your sides in fists, “You always talk about space,” you murmured. “Needing time.”

You turned on your heel and stomped toward the door, yanking it open with a loud creak. Cold autumn air rushed in, hitting your bare skin and stinging your eyes.

“Well,” you said, voice low and bitter. “Your prayers have been answered.”

You swung your arm out toward the open doorway.

“You can have your space, cowboy.”

Joel paused for a long moment. Because maybe for once he realized you meant it. Like maybe he’d expected you to cave, to give him the same grace you always did. But you were tired.

Tired of not knowing what this was. Tired of not knowing what you were to him. Tired of the way he’d shut down and pull away when you could feel the good in him, the gold buried under all that iron.

You knew he was a good man. He just wouldn’t show it to you.

Slowly, he started toward the door. Time dragged as he approached you, whether that was because every step looked like it cost him something or you were cataloging every movement he made to store in your memory.

He reached the threshold and stopped, the morning light catching the edge of his face, soft and golden. He looked back at you, but you didn’t lift your eyes.

Then softly, just a whisper, he said your name. As if he knew it was the last time.

Finally, you looked up at him, biting your lip to keep back the tears.

“I’ll see you around, Joel,” you said. “I know my place. And maybe it’s just not with you.”

You couldn’t quite make yourself regret being with Joel.

Not even for a second.

You told yourself a hundred times in the days that followed that what happened between you and him had been real. Maybe not enough, maybe not lasting, but real. And sometimes that was all you got.

Roads were made to go down. Some just didn’t have a way back.

And if you’d been smarter, you would’ve remembered what the movies always tried to teach: the good guys don’t run away.

But the broken ones sure as hell do.

And Joel Miller had always been a runner. Even if he showed signs of want, of connection only through the nights with your name on his lips like prayer and he took your body like it was his salvation. 

But when a horse wants to run, there’s no sense closing the gate.

In the weeks after you’d broken things off, you saw him everywhere. Yes, in the little things like the butcher’s stall that had a sign he’d made and the wooden figurines in your neighbor’s windowsill, but more than that, you actually saw him.

From across the market gathering whatever it was he needed one week, or the back of his head on horseback heading out with a patrol group, or his flannel at the edge of the community garden, nodding to someone like he was fine. Like nothing ever happened. He never looked your way, not once. But you looked at him.

And the days you didn’t see him were somehow worse.

You'd catch yourself worrying. Wondering if something went wrong on patrol, or…if he was holed up with another woman in a house that wasn’t yours, if he’d finally decided to try with someone easier.

Someone who didn’t ask him to talk. Someone who didn’t wear his t-shirts and expect breakfast the next morning.

Two months passed like that— slow and strange, like you were trudging through water. You kept to yourself, did your work, smiled at friends when they asked if you were okay. You told them you were tired, that you were busy. That you were fine.

But there was something about Joel that clung to you like smoke.

It didn’t matter how many days you went without seeing him. He was still everywhere. Whether it was in the smell of pine when it rained, the creak of your porch steps when you’d hoped it was him, or the ache of your thighs the first time you tried to be with someone else and couldn’t go through with it.

Because try you had. Over and over, you’d tried.

And on one stormy night, three sharp knocks slammed against your front door like warning shots.

You were curled up on the couch beside someone who was… fine. He was nice, respectful, said “please” and “thank you” and laughed at your lame jokes with his hand resting on your knee. You were trying, honest, to feel something. To find that spark again, to forget about the one you’d known all too well.

But you couldn’t force yourself to, could you? So when the knocks slammed into the wood of your front door, you were almost grateful, because the man on your couch had just been leaning in for what you were pretty sure was a kiss.

Eric? Aaron? Whatever his name was blinked, glancing toward the door. “You expecting someone?”

You shook your head slowly. “No.”

Another knock. More like a demand now.

“Let me just see who it is,” you said quietly as you crossed the room, your bare feet silent on the hardwood, and opened the door.

Joel nearly fell through it.

Rain clung to him, dripping from the hem of his jacket, pooling beneath his boots. Mud streaked up the sides of his jeans. His hair was soaked to his scalp, his eyes red-rimmed and glassy. There was something feral about them.

He didn’t even say a word as he stepped forward, grabbed your face with both hands, and kissed you.

It was messy and sudden and rough, tasting hot with whiskey, his stubble scraping your skin as he tilted your chin up, as if he had the right. As if you were still his. You froze for a heartbeat, maybe two. Because you had missed him. Missed him in ways you hadn’t even let yourself feel yet. But this…this wasn’t how it was supposed to happen. And the second that sick, hot twist of anger rose up in your gut, you shoved him.

“Joel—what the fuck—get off,” you snapped, trying to twist out of his cold, wet grip.

But he kept coming. Hands sliding to your hips, dragging you into him again, his mouth crashing against yours, slurring against your lips, “Missed you. I miss’d ya so fuckin’ bad, baby, I—”

You pushed harder this time, shoving at his chest until he stumbled back a step. He swayed, visibly disoriented, breath catching as he reached for the doorframe to steady himself. His eyes blinked slowly like the room was spinning. When he looked back at you, he looked confused. Like he didn’t understand why you were pushing him away.

Behind you, you heard the floor creak.

“Uh, what the hell is going on?”

Joel’s head jerked up at the voice.

The man stood from the couch, slow and cautious. His brows pulled tight, clearly trying to make sense of what he just walked into. Joel stared for a long moment. Then his whole body stiffened.

“What the fuck is this?” he asked, his voice lower now, that mean, Southern bite curling around the words.

You stepped into his eyeline immediately. “Joel—don’t.”

But he moved around you like you weren’t even there, sodden boots heavy on the floor as he stalked forward.

“Get the fuck out,” he said to the man.

The guy blinked, baffled. “Excuse me?”

“I said get the fuck outta her house.”

“She invited me—”

Joel began to move, an angry glower pinching his brows as he moved to get in his face, but you stepped between him, hands on his chest.

“Jesus, Joel,” you said, shoving him back again, “What the hell is wrong with you?”

Joel’s breathing was ragged, chest rising and falling fast. He turned toward you, eyes wild and heartbroken and far too open, “Can I talk to you?” his eyes glowered briefly at the man behind you, “Alone?”

“Man, you need to leave,” your guest said, annoyed.

You held up a hand. “It’s fine. I’m sorry. Just… please go.”

He looked at you for a long second, then scoffed, shooting one last glare toward Joel as he stepped out the door.

The second it closed behind him, the silence in the room was deafening.

Joel stood there in the middle of your living room like something unholy. Soaked to the bone and chest heaving. His eyes were red and full of everything he refused to say for the last two months.

The silence stretched, long and heavy.

“Baby, I–” he began, but you shook your head.

“I don’t want to hear it, Joel.” you squeezed your eyes shut, bringing your hands up to rub your temples, “Whatever it is you want to say, I need to hear it when you’re sober.”

You should’ve screamed, should’ve been angry. Hell, you should’ve thrown him back out into the rain and locked the door behind him. 

But you didn’t. Instead, you stepped forward, carefully, slowly, wondering if he was just going to bolt again. 

“Let’s just…get this off,” you murmured. Your fingers found the collar of his jacket, trembling a little from the adrenaline coursing through you as you tugged it down his shoulders. The fabric clung to his arms, soaked and heavy, but he didn’t fight you. And you didn’t realize til after you’d gotten it off of him that his eyes never left your face. Not once.

You hung his jacket up by your door, the fabric freezing and soggy. Then your hands moved to his flannel. The buttons were half-undone already. You didn’t ask, you just kept going.

And still, he didn’t stop you.

You pushed the fabric apart, palms brushing down the front of his chest, and God—he was so cold. But he was still him, even if the cold had gotten to him, had sunken into his skin.

You sank to your knees.

Not for him, and not like that. You just crouched down in front of him and tugged at the laces of his boots. The knot was sloppy and rushed like he had rushed in a fury to put them on. You undid it anyway, peeling each boot off one at a time, your fingers clumsy from the cold and the tension.

Neither of you spoke.

Not until you stood again, eyes meeting his. Something passed between you in that moment, raw and wordless. Maybe a kind of truce. Not forgiveness, just a single thread of mercy, offered in silence just for tonight.

Joel swayed again, catching himself with a heavy hand against the wall. His voice came out low and ragged, like it hurt to speak.

“I… I fucked up, okay?”

You could’ve screamed at him. Could’ve thrown every angry word you’d swallowed these past few months in his face. But instead, you just reached for the hem of his shirt.

“Lift your arms.”

He blinked, confused, but obeyed, sluggish and slow.

You pulled the soaked fabric up and over his head, dropping it to the floor with a wet slap.

“I’m tryin’ t’talk to ya,” he slurred, more firmly this time. “Yer not… listenin’.”

You poked him hard in the chest, “Because I don’t,” you poked again, “want,” a third poke, “to hear it, Joel.”

You poked him one last, hard time, his face turning into a grimace as his fingers wrapped around your wrist, but you kept going.

“So here’s what’s gonna happen. You’re gonna take a shower, and I’m gonna make sure you don’t bust your head open on the tub. Then you’re drinking some damn water and sleeping it off on the couch.”

He opened his mouth, but you cut him off with a sharp look.

“If you still wanna talk after that? When you’re sober and not dripping all over my floor? Then maybe I’ll listen.”

He stared at you for a long moment, rainwater still clinging to his skin, chest rising and falling. Then he nodded. Just once, his face falling, his eyes wide.

“Alright,” he said quietly. “Okay.”

You draped the blanket over him, tucking it gently around his shoulders. He was half-asleep already, sunk deep into the couch cushions, still damp around the edges but warm now, finally. Clean shirt and a pair of sweatpants he left behind many nights ago, water by his side, the softest throw you owned wrapped snug to his chest.

Joel blinked up at you slowly, lids heavy and uneven. His hair was still a little wet, curling at his temples. That same whiskey glow lingered in his eyes, glassy and soft.

“Yer so pretty,” he mumbled, words slurred as he watched you tuck him in, “Really miss’d ya.”

“Okay, Joel,” you said halfheartedly, not believing a word of it.

He blinked again, slower this time. “Even when I was t’dumb to say it… I always wanted t’come back ‘ere. To you.”

You froze.

Your throat tightened, but you forced a smile anyway. Brushed a dark hair from his forehead with careful fingers.

“Okay, cowboy,” you said gently. “Drink your water and rest. We’ll talk in the morning.”

He hummed, the sound low and content. “M’kay.”

And as you turned to leave, his hand found the edge of the blanket again, clutching it close.

You were up before him the next morning, the sky still a pale and silvery grey through the kitchen window when you set the kettle on.

You’d saved the last of the good coffee grounds for this, maybe because some part of you hoped he’d come back. Maybe because opening the jar, running your fingers through the coarse grinds, breathing in the bitter scent… it helped when you missed him.

The rich smell filled the room as it brewed, creeping into the corners of the house like a memory. You heard the low groan from the couch before you saw him. The rustling of blankets and the sound of his hand rubbing against his beard.

You poured a mug and walked over slowly.

He was hunched over, elbows on his knees, head in his hands. Bleary and still half-fogged. When he finally lifted his face, eyes squinting against the light, you held the mug out to him.

He blinked at it. Then at you.

“Thanks,” he said, voice rough with sleep and whatever was still left from the whiskey. He took it gingerly, careful to avoid your fingers.

You sat down in the corner of the couch, legs tucked under you, keeping a decent distance with your hands wrapped around your tea to ground you.

Joel took a sip from his mug, closing his eyes and exhaled a sigh, long and slow.

“Needed that,” he murmured, setting the mug on the table.

You nodded, watching him out of the corner of your eye. His beard was scruffier than usual, curling at the edges. Eyes rimmed in red, lashes still clumped from sleep. His face was carved in exhaustion, but even now, something about him still softened when he looked at you.

“I’m, uh…” he started, then shook his head and ran a hand through his hair. “I’m real sorry about last night. Feel awful.”

You gave a crooked smile. “Yeah, I figured the hangover’d be brutal.”

He shot you a look. “Not like that, smartass.”

Your smile deepened in spite of yourself. The silence between you hummed a little, something warm and bitter like old whiskey. You broke the gaze first, sighed, and stared down into your tea.

“So,” you said.

“So…” he echoed, rubbing at the corner of his jaw. His fingers rasped against the unshaven stubble. “I, uh… I ain’t so good at this.”

You nodded. That much, at least, didn’t need explaining.

“But I meant what I said,” he added quietly. “I’ve… ya know. Missed you.”

You lifted your mug again, stalling with a sip. You didn’t answer right away, and you didn’t plan to. The old version of you might’ve melted on the spot with so few words. Not this time. You needed more. Real words. The truth of it.

Joel watched you, waiting. Then waited some more.

The longer the silence stretched, the more agitated he looked. His mouth twitched, like he was finally coming to terms with the fact he was gonna have to work for your forgiveness.

He leaned back finally, one arm slung along the back of the couch, his eyes still fixed on you.

“Not gonna give me anythin’, huh?”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you said, setting your mug down with a quiet clink on the coffee table, “I thought you came here with somethin’ to say.”

“I was drunk.”

“Drunk words, sober thoughts,” you said simply. “So let’s hear ’em.”

Joel let out a low groan, dragging his hand over his face again. “Okay,” he muttered into his palm before reaching for the coffee again.

He took another sip, holding the mug like it might shield him from what came next.

“I dunno all the shit I’m supposed to say,” he muttered finally. “It’s not…easy for me.”

You stayed quiet, letting him talk, even if the words came slow and uneven.

“I’m used to... keepin’ things in. Just dealin’ with whatever shit came my way. I never…never really had this before, someone who wanted to know what was goin’ on in here.” He glanced your way, tappin’ his temple.

“So when I started comin’ around here… and it felt good… felt, I dunno, safe… I think I got scared I’d fuck it up. Or that maybe I already had.”

You blinked slowly, processing the mess of it. His voice, low and gravelly, kept catching like it was tripping over things he didn’t know how to say. Like there were words he wanted to find but had never really practiced out loud.

“Joel,” you sighed, fingers fidgeting around your knees, “I just want to know…what it is you want. Because it seems like we want different things.”

His eyes found yours across the couch, setting his coffee down as he shook his head, and sat forward, leaning closer to you, “No, no. That ain’t it. I want this, I just…” he trailed off, rubbing his face into his hands. You almost felt bad, how hard this was for him. 

Then, his eyes looked up, and he sat back. “Can you come here?”

You weren’t sure if you were ready for this part. Because part of you knew how fast you’d give in if you touched him. Knew how easy it would be to fall back into his arms and forget everything you’d been hurting over. But your chest ached for it. And the way he was looking at you, so raw and cracked open, it made you move against your better judgement.

Slowly, you crawled over. He shifted to make room and when you tucked yourself beneath his chin, his arm came around you like he’d been waiting. Both hands found your arm, rubbing gently like he could feel the chill under your skin.

It was odd, almost. Most of the times he’d pulled you in like this were when you were both naked, the post coitus hormones running high, limbs tangled up and skin flushed.

“Missed this,” he murmured, his voice warm against your hair.

You swallowed. You missed it too, missed him, even when he made it impossible.

He shifted just enough to tilt your chin up, fingers brushing along your jaw. His eyes searched yours, darker now but softer. You saw something there you hadn’t seen in the light before. Not when he wasn’t trying to hide it.

Then his gaze dropped to your mouth, and he leaned in.

The kiss was soft and careful, the kind that said he was still learning how not to ruin things.

You kissed him back, breathing him in, your hand fisting in his shirt gently.

But then you caught yourself and pulled away, your hand untangling from the fabric to rub your eyes, “Joel–” 

“What do you need me to say?” he asked quietly. There was no bite, no sharpness in his tone. “What is it you want to hear?”

“I can’t just…tell you. I want to know what you want, not just…feeding me what I want to hear.”

His fingers stayed at your jaw, steady. He looked at you like he was searching for the right words, like he wanted to get them right this time.

“I want this,” he said. “I want you.”

His voice cracked slightly. He held your gaze, his hand still gentle on your face.

“I’m sorry I was an asshole before. I didn’t get it.”

You watched him closely as his brow pulled in. This time it wasn’t stubbornness, but something closer to pain.

“Let me try again.”

He must’ve taken your silence as hesitation, because he kept going, voice picking up like he was trying to get ahead of the panic building in his chest.

“I know how it looks, I know I’ve been—Jesus, I’ve been a fuckin’ wreck about this, and I didn’t know how to deal with it. With you. With what I feel when I’m around you. It’s not just… It’s not just wantin’ you in my bed, it’s everything.”

You didn’t move, didn’t blink. You just sat there listening, because holy shit, you’d never heard this man talk so damn much. Never heard him unravel like this, like he couldn’t stop even if he wanted to. And it was pouring out of him now, fast and messy, as if trying to outrun the fear of messing it all up again.

“I wake up thinkin’ about you. I walk around Jackson wonderin’ what you’re doin’, what you’re thinkin’ about. I’d hear someone say your name and feel like an idiot ‘cause it’d make me smile. And then I’d remember I fucked it all up. That you were done with me. That you should be.”

His gaze dropped along with his hand from your face.

“But then I’d remember...what the hell do I think I’m doin’, bein’ with someone like you? You’ve got this whole life to live. You’ve still got time. Options. People your own age who can give you things I can’t.”

He looked at you again, and this time his eyes were pained and earnest.

“What happens in a few years when I hit sixty, and you still got your life ahead of you? What happens when I’m gone and you’re—”

You cut him off with a kiss.

You surged forward and grabbed fistfuls of his shirt, pulling him into you, kissing him hard again, and again, like you could stop his words with your mouth. Like maybe if you kissed him enough, it would undo the ache in his voice.

“I was tryin’ to talk to you, you know,” he murmured against your lips, breath warm, a hint of a smile breaking through.

You nodded, laughing through the tears you didn’t remember letting fall. Your face was wet, your throat tight.

He pulled back just a little, his hand back to cradling your cheek. His eyes searched yours.

“I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s okay,” you smiled, “It’s just…I’m happy is all.”

And then he grinned back, and he was kissing you again and it was like something broke open in him. A dam cracked, all that restraint, all that aching hesitation he’d carried for months poured out in the way his hands slid into your hair, the way his mouth deepened against yours.

You barely had time to gasp before he was pressing into you, kissing you harder now, like he needed to make up for every second he’d spent staying away.

And he pushed you gently down onto the couch cushions, his palm cradling the back of your head as he guided you flat and braced himself above you. His body laid flush against yours, that familiar warmth of him enveloping you. 

You felt the heat of him, the weight of him, every line of him sinking into you like he’d finally allowed himself to kiss you in the daylight. 

You moaned softly against his lips, your thighs parting instinctively beneath him as he settled in the cradle of your hips. He dragged his mouth down your jaw, across your cheek, leaving heat in his wake, murmuring something low against your skin that you couldn’t quite catch—something desperate and grateful.

You arched into him, your hands sliding up his chest, and he caught one of them, threading his fingers between yours. He pulled back just enough to kiss your fingertips, slow and reverent, then your knuckles, one by one, all while holding your gaze.

"You’re so beautiful," he whispered, almost to himself, kissing the inside of your wrist this time, right over the spot where your pulse jumped.

Your skin burned under his gaze. You cupped his face with your free hand, thumb brushing his bottom lip slowly as your thighs lifted higher around his waist. You ground up against him, dragging friction against the hard outline of him beneath his sweatpants.

His eyes fluttered shut, breath catching. He exhaled like it had been held in his lungs for weeks.

“If you keep doin’ that,” he rasped, “I’m not gonna be able to take the time I wanna take with you.”

You smiled, warm and crooked. “Don’t want you to take your time,” you whispered, pulling him back down to your mouth.

His lips met yours again, deeper now, more urgent. One hand threaded through your hair, the other roaming your side as your tongue met his, soft and slick and hungry. He groaned into your mouth, kissing you deeper and deeper.

“Jesus,” he muttered against your skin, trailing kisses to your throat, “you feel so fuckin’ good beneath me, baby.”

“Missed you so much, Joel,” you breathed, eyes shutting as his teeth scraped your neck, the sting of it blooming hot under his tongue.

He was already fumbling with your shirt, pushing it up until you were bare to him, braless, chest rising and falling. His mouth latched onto your nipple without hesitation, all heat and need and reverence. You moaned, back arching, one hand gripping his hair.

“Missed you,” he echoed, voice rough, “Missed this.”

You looked down at him, gasping. He was so pretty like this—lashes low, mouth full, lips slick. Always so careful, making sure you felt good, that you were ready. That you wanted him.

He looked up at you, eyes dark with something that could only be described as devotion. “Wanna show you how much I missed it,” he said, kissing you hard on the lips before trailing back down your body. His tongue flicked out, slow, teasing, licking every inch he could get his mouth on until he reached the waistband of your pants.

Clothes disappeared fast, a blur of limbs and fabric. He hiked your legs up over his shoulders, settling between them like he belonged there. Because he did, after all.

“And don’t even get me started on her,” he said, voice playful now, pressing a kiss just above where you needed him most. “Missed her too.”

“Joeeel…” you mewled, already dizzy with how close he was.

He kissed the left side of your center, then the right, slow and careful. “Thought about her every night,” he murmured, mouth hot and close, “dreamed about how she tastes.”

And then he kissed your clit, and you jolted.

He moaned softly, like this was what he’d been starving for. His tongue flattened, dragging slow, wet strokes from your weeping entrance up to your clit, then back down again. When he pressed the tip inside you just a little, your hips rolled instinctively, your moan coming out sharp and breathless.

He let you move and grind against his mouth, his tongue, let you tangle your fingers in his hair and chase that growing pressure in your belly.

The sleep was gone now. Whatever haze he’d been in had burned off completely.

Joel moaned softly against your skin, tongue dragging another long stroke through your folds, savoring the taste of you like he’d been craving it since the second he left your bed two months ago. He kept going until your thighs trembled against his shoulders, your fingers twisting in his hair, breath stuttering out of your lungs in broken little gasps.

Then his mouth slowed. He pulled back just slightly, his lips brushing against your swollen center as he spoke, the tickle of his beard making you twitch.

“Goddamn,” he murmured, almost reverent. “She’s even sweeter than I remember.”

And then you felt his hand sliding up your leg, rough and broad, fingertips stroking the crease where your thigh met your heat. He watched you as he moved, mouth parted, eyes dark and focused, completely dialed in on the way your body writhed beneath him.

He pushed one finger in, nice and slow, and it felt like heaven and hell at once. That thick, slow pressure opening you, curling into that soft spot inside you with practiced ease. Like memory.

Your back arched off the couch. You whimpered, head rolling back. He’d always had the thickest fingers, one was all you needed to feel that tight stretch of him.

“Shit,” he groaned, watching your face as he moved it. “You feel that? How tight she still is for me?”

You could barely answer. You only moaned louder when he added a second finger, working you open, his knuckles brushing where your body fluttered around him. His fingers were so big and broad, callused, perfectly angled. They filled you so good it made your thighs shake.

He set a deep, unhurried rhythm that had the sounds of your wetness filling the room, obscene and beautiful as he brought his mouth back to your clit. He could feel the pulsing of your velvet walls around him as he continued pushing his fingers into you.

“There she is,” he said, pausing the flicking of his tongue, “Look at you, takin’ it so good, like always, baby,” 

His lips pursed around your clit and sucked hard, making your breath stutter and stomach tense. Within seconds, you were arching and clamping down on his fingers, your nails digging into his scalp as he moaned against you. 

Suddenly your whole body was locking up, thighs clamping around his head as you cried out, your release washing over you in a shudder that left you boneless and gasping. Joel kept moving through it, easing you down, letting you ride every last wave while he whispered against your skin.

“There you go. That’s my girl. Just like that.”

When your breath finally evened out, your eyes fluttered open and he was already moving up your body, slow and sure, kissing your skin as he went.

He pressed a kiss to your stomach, your ribs. Then up curve of your breast, all the way to your collarbone. Your throat.

And finally, your mouth.

Kissing you deep and full, he let you taste yourself on his lips. It was like honey and tang and the lingering taste of coffee on his tongue. He kissed you like he had all the time in the world, like there was no place else he'd rather be than between your thighs, tasting your breath and holding your face like it was something fragile, something his. His mouth moved slowly over yours, tongues sliding together, hands still trembling faintly with how badly he wanted you.

“Fuck,” he muttered against your lips, voice frayed. “I missed you. Missed you so goddamn much.”

Your fingers trailed down his chest, down to his waistband, dragging the pair of sweatpants down over his hips, not caring how clumsy it was. You needed him. You needed him now. He helped, kicking them off without hardly breaking the kiss. Your hand wrapped around him, hard and flushed and aching against your thigh.

“Jesus—” he groaned, his hips jolting forward into your palm, his forehead pressing into yours as his breath came hot and shaky, “Been a minute, take it easy,”

Your own body was on fire, soaked, aching for him. His voice, his hands, the weight of him over you was too much and yet not enough.

“Joel,” you whispered, “please.”

“Tell me you want it,” he said, and it didn’t sound like teasing. It sounded like pleading. His voice broke like it physically hurt him to ask. “Tell me you still want me.”

You nearly sobbed with need, “I want you. I’ve always wanted you.”

He reached between you to line himself up, the thick head of him dragging through your folds. You were so wet it made both of you groan, the slick sound obscene in the quiet room. He rocked his hips forward, just the tip pressing against your entrance.

“You’re so wet for me,” he whispered, his voice thick, breathless. “So warm.”

You writhed under him, thighs spreading wider, needing more. You could barely think.

“Joel– Jesus– please, just fuck me already.”

He smiled at that and sank into you in one long, devastating thrust, burying himself deep. You cried out, hands clutching at the nape of his neck as your body stretched to take him. Thick, hot, perfect. He filled you like he never left. Like he’d been made to fit.

“Shit,” he breathed, eyes squeezing shut as he bottomed out. “You feel like fuckin’ heaven. Always have.”

He stayed there for a second, shaking with the effort to hold back, “I’m not gonna last,” he admitted, voice strained, “Christ, been a while, huh?”

“You didn’t–?” you blinked up at him, catching your breath.

He shook his head, jaw clenched, a shiver running through him as he twitched inside you. “No. Couldn’t. Didn’t want to.”

He paused, looked down at you, eyes searching. “Did you?”

You cupped his face in your hands like he was delicate beneath your touch.

“No,” you said softly. “No one’s like you, Joel.”

Something shifted behind his eyes, something aching and raw and beautiful. His mouth fell to yours, kissing you deep, as your hips lifted to meet his.

And then he started to move.

He was slow at first, deep and dragging, every stroke deliberate, like he was trying to memorize how you felt all over again. You moaned into his mouth, your nails digging into his hair, your breath catching with every roll of his hips.

He dropped his head into the crook of your neck, his breath hot on your skin.

And then you heard it—gasping, raw, like it ripped itself from his chest.

“I love you,” he groaned. “Fuck—I fucking love you.”

Everything felt like it slowed down.

Your bodies didn’t stop moving, not yet, but something inside your chest pulled tight. Like your heart was trying to brace for impact. Like you hadn’t realized how badly you needed to hear it until it was right there, spilling out of his mouth in that low, broken voice, rough with disbelief and months of silence.

Something woke up under your skin, hot and bleary eyed, the kind of heat that lives dormant, that fills your throat and makes your pulse race. It had nothing to do with sex and everything to do with how this man was looking at you. 

He was still inside you, still moving with that same steady rhythm, but his eyes were locked on yours now. Wide and dark and raw. His mouth hung open slightly like he was waiting for you to say something, anything, to tell him whether he’d just changed everything or ruined it.

Your hands came up slowly, almost in disbelief, and you touched his face, one palm to his cheek, the other curling into the back of his neck like you needed to feel he was real. Your voice caught in your throat before you could even speak, but somehow it pushed out.

“You love me?” you whispered, and the sound of your own voice didn’t even sound like yours.

“Yes,” he breathed.

Something cracked open inside you, something deep and hidden and too tired to be cautious anymore. You kissed him, harder than you meant to, your mouth catching his in a collision that felt like everything snapping. He groaned against you and kissed you back like it was instinct, like he’d been waiting for your permission to give in completely.

You pulled back just enough to breathe, your lips brushing his, your body still pulsing around him, still stretched wide and full, still needing more. “Say it again,” you whispered, not because you doubted him, but because you needed to hear it again. Needed to feel him give it to you without fear.

His hand slid to your jaw, holding you there, and his voice came softer now, steadier. “I love you.”

The words landed different this time. Less like an accident, more like a promise.

Your chest ached. You felt it rise up and out of you, that thing you’d been holding back for so long. “I love you too,” you said, and you didn’t have to think about it, didn’t need to second guess. It had always been there.

His head dipped and he kissed you again, deeper this time, not frantic like before but slow and thorough, like he wanted to feel every part of your mouth. His thrusts never stopped. They grew more purposeful now, more measured, like he wasn’t afraid anymore of where this was going, only desperate to take you with him.

He shifted slightly, reaching down to pull your leg higher around his waist, and the new angle made your whole body tense. He sank even deeper, drawing a low sound from your throat you hadn’t meant to make. You felt the build starting again, that tightening low in your stomach, that ache rising in time with every thrust, your body greedy for it, your hands clawing at him like you needed to hold on to something solid while everything else inside you fell apart.

You buried your face against his shoulder, your mouth open, your breath catching, your body clenching tight around him. He groaned your name into your skin, over and over, like it was the only word left in the world.

And then you came. Hard. Full-body, all-consuming, a wave that knocked the breath from your lungs and made your vision white around the edges. Your whole body trembled, and he held you through it, never breaking rhythm, never letting go.

He followed a second later, with a sound that sounded something close to a sob. He thrust deep and stayed there, grinding into you as he spilled inside, his whole body shuddering with the release.

You felt him lift his head to press his forehead to yours, felt the weight of his breath, the warmth of his skin, the thudding of his heart trying to slow against your chest.

Neither of you spoke for a long moment. There was nothing to say. Just the feel of him still inside you, the heat of him wrapped around you, the echo of those three words still settling into the space between your bodies.

You closed your eyes and let it all soak in.

Because this time, you believed him.

[missdynamighttt]

↳ ❝ FAT ASS LIKE HERS NEEDS A REAL MAN TO FUCK IT. ❞

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ synopsis: in which, you get tangled up with your boyfriend's arrogant, infuriating, and devastatingly hot rival, katsuki bakugou and ended up fucking... one too many times.

starring: pro hero! katsuki bakugou x enemy's girlfriend! reader ⍣ ೋ

disclaimers!: cheating on yo shindo, cheating with katsuki bakugo, body worship, implied mentions of anal sex, oral sex (f! receiving, face riding), manhandling, penetrative / p in v sex, unprotected sex, creampie

note: usage of "sweetheart", "pretty", "pretty girl", "sweets", fem reader, implied plus size! reader, mean! katsuki, katsuki calls reader fat but not really (specifically, reader's ass), (hopefully) promoting body positivity. really thought this song gave katsuki vibes and havent seen a fic based off of it yet. reminds me of that montoya guy watching his girl fuck someone on camera lmao😭. time to give back to my community, hope you guys enjoy💜

╰┈➤ [katsuki bakugo was an asshole.] everyone knew that. and when it came to shindo yo, he was even worse. the two had never gotten along—never would. 

which was exactly why, when katsuki walked into the bar and spotted you, nursing a drink, frustration etched across your face, he couldn’t help but smirk.

it didn’t take a genius to figure out why. probably your boyfriend getting a little too damn close to another "friend" again. just like always. this wasn’t the first time, and knowing him, it wouldn’t be the last.

this was the kind of moment he lived for, a rare opportunity to get under shindo’s skin. sure, maybe katsuki didn’t hate shindo that much, but you? you were a different story.

he sauntered over, leaning an arm against the counter, eyes never leaving you. "rough night?"

you glanced up, instantly recognizing the pro hero standing beside you. with a sigh, you swirled your drink in its glass. “you could say that.”

“lemme guess... your idiot boyfriend givin’ you trouble again?”

“…something like that.”

“don’t know why you put up with him, honestly," he chuckled, the sound low and knowing. he tipped his drink toward you, watching your reaction carefully. "you deserve better than some asshole who doesn’t know how to appreciate you.”

your lips quirked, a mix of amusement and exasperation. “and you think you can appreciate me?”

katsuki had no shame, never did. so he grinned, a flicker of something dangerous in his crimson gaze.

"want me to show you, sweetheart?"

one thing led to another and soon enough— you were in his bed, limbs tangled, gasping his name, making sure you see the stars in the sky as he fucked the frustration right out of you.

and after that night, fucking you became katsuki's favorite way to piss shindo off.

you weren’t stupid. you knew exactly what this was. but did you care? not one damn bit. he had you in his bed more than your shitty boyfriend ever did. and yeah, maybe it started as a way to get under shindo’s skin, but somewhere along the way, it became something neither of you wanted to stop.

because katsuki? he was fucking obsessed with you.  

some nights, he’d pull you into his lap, hands splayed over your hips as he buried his face in your neck, pressing lazy, open-mouthed kisses to your skin.

“fuck, i missed you,” he groaned, voice thick with something dangerously close to vulnerability. his grip tighten, fingers digging into the softness of your thighs. “shouldn’t let you leave my bed, y’know that?”

you chuckled, tilting your head back as his lips trailed lower. “you’re never satisfied, huh?”

“so what?” he nipped at your skin, making you squeak. “i like my woman soft. more of you for me to grab.”

and grab he did. he was clingy in the worst way—always needing to have a hand on you, whether it was squeezing your ass, gripping your waist, or just absentmindedly tracing patterns on your thigh while you laid in bed together.

katsuki just loved how you felt in his hands.

then there are the nights when he'd lie with his head on your lap, letting you comb your fingers through his hair, one arm thrown lazily over his chest.

his eyes were shut, his expression relaxed, but every so often, his brows furrowed as he grumbled about his day.

like now.

“dumbass intern nearly blew up my whole damn office,” he muttered, eyes closed. “and kirishima kept laughin’ like it was the funniest shit he’d ever seen.”

you hummed, dragging your nails lightly over his scalp. “i mean… you do blow things up all the time. bit hypocritical, don’t you think?”

his eyes cracked open, leveling you with a glare. “tch. ain’t funny.”

you bit back a smile. “a little funny.”

he exhaled sharply through his nose but didn’t argue. he never really did when you played with his hair. it was his weakness, and he hated that you knew it.

your fingers trailed down to his jaw, tracing the sharp edge. he leaned into your touch instinctively, like it was second nature. and maybe it was.

“you’re really pretty, you know that?” you murmured.

his eyes flickered open again, red irises locking onto yours. there was something unreadable in his gaze—something so raw and vulnerable.

“oi,” he muttered, shifting slightly, ears turning pink. “quit it.”

you grinned. “quit what?”

“saying dumb shit like that.”

“but it’s true.”

katsuki scowled, but the way he pressed his cheek into your palm gave him away. he huffed, eyes slipping shut again.

“…whatever.”

and he loved it. the times he's spent with you, whether he was fucking you or just talking about each other's day, he loved all of it. not just because it was a middle finger to shindo, but because katsuki got to have you all to himself. 

honestly? it stopped being about shindo a long time ago. but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t rub it in the bastard’s face.

"she was beggin’ me to keep goin’ last night," katsuki bragged, arm slung lazily around your waist, knowing full well that shindō was fuming. his hand drifted lower, fingers trailing over the curve of your ass. “bet you don’t even know how to handle all this ass, huh? shame. guess that’s why she keeps crawlin’ back to me.”

shindo clenched his jaw, knowing exactly what katsuki was implying. he knew. knew there was truth in katsuki’s words. knew that every time he and you argued, you’d disappear for a while, only to return looking a little too satisfied. "you really think you're some upgrade?"  

"she does. especially when she’s whining my name into the sheets.”  

"shut the fuck up, bakugo."  

katsuki barked a laugh, shameless and sharp. he was pissed, good. that was the reaction he wanted. but he wasn’t done yet.

“she’s a greedy lil’ thing, too. always wantin’ more," he grinned, eyes flicking over to him before locking back at yours. "but look at her. how could i say no? she looks so fuckin’ perfect under me."

your face burns, heat creeping up your neck before he scoffs and turns back to grilling your ex, like you weren’t just standing there, completely flustered.

"did she ever tell you how much she loves it when i grab these—" his fingers trailed down your side, giving a firm squeeze and earning a small yelp from you. "—and i slam my dick into her? fuck her real nice and deep? moans so pretty for me, too. you ever heard it?"

and if shindo so much as opened his mouth, katsuki would throw in another dig.

"nah. probably not. bet she asked you if it was in yet.”  

"well, she's all yours," shindo said, fists clenching, clearly seconds away from punching him. and katsuki lived for it.  

"yeah, figured you’d say that," katsuki taunted. "she’s been stress eatin’ too much to deal with a weak-ass like you."  

and then, just because he was an absolute bastard, he'd go in for the kill.

"fat ass like hers needs a real man to fuck it."  

shindo looked about ready to swing, but you pulled katsuki away before things got too messy.  you could still feel the heat of shindo’s rage burning through the air. it thrilled you more than it should have. 

but behind closed doors? the same man who ran his mouth would spend hours pressed against you, whispering things he’d never admit to anyone else.

"c’mere," katsuki grumbled, tugging you onto the bed after another long day of antagonizing your ex. his arms wrapped around your waist, face immediately pressing into your soft stomach.

he worshipped you—every inch, every soft curve, but nothing captivated him more than your stomach.

he was obsessed, utterly entranced. he’d bury his face against it, his hands kneaded your sides, gripping, squeezing—memorizing, pressing lazy kisses to every dip and curve. he held your body with a reverence that bordered on possessive, like he was terrified you’d slip away.

"fuck, baby," he groaned, nuzzling into you like he wanted to disappear into your skin. “love your body so goddamn much. s’perfect.”

you chuckled, threading your fingers through his hair. "thought you said i was stress-eating."  

"yeah, stress-eatin’ on my dick," he muttered, pressing kisses against your tummy. "he doesn’t deserve to see you like this. doesn’t even deserve to breathe the same air as you."

“then why do you still do it, hmm?”

he looked up at you, red eyes dark with something almost desperate as he presses hot, open-mouthed kisses along your stomach.

"tch, you know why i do that. pisses him off. makes him realize he ain't shit. ‘cause he ain't."  

you shivered at the heat of his lips against your skin, biting back a smile as you run your fingers through his hair. so that’s what this was about. "you sure you’re not just obsessed with him at this point?”

he scoffed against your stomach, his grip on your waist tightening. “the hell i am. only thing i’m obsessed with is you.”

it was the side of him no one else got to see— the way he nuzzled into you, the way he pressed his lips to your skin over and over, like he couldn’t get enough. he'd grumble if you tried to move, holding you tighter to keep you in bed, murmuring "stay here. wanna hold ya."  

he loved how soft you were, how warm—how no matter how much he grabbed, squeezed, or traced his fingers over you, it was never enough. he needed you. it was like he was drunk on the feel of you, the scent of you. and truthfully, he was.

"love this shit,” he admitted lowly, voice thick with something almost vulnerable. he nuzzled into your tummy again, letting out a deep, satisfied sigh. "could live here."

you raised a brow, fighting back a grin as you looked down at him. “oh? you wanna live on my stomach now?”

“yes, baby,” he muttered almost desperately, eyes half-lidded with satisfaction while pressing another lingering kiss to your skin. “soft. warm. smells like you.”

you laughed, dragging your fingers through his hair. “so what, you’re gonna quit being a hero and move in here?”

he let out a gruff chuckle, turning his head to rest his cheek against you. “tch. would if i could. wouldn’t need a bed, a couch, nothin’. just this perfect spot.”

“oh yeah?” you hummed, tilting your head. “should i start charging you rent?”

he huffed against your skin. “tch. smartass.”

you giggled, brushing a thumb over the shell of his ear. “i mean, if you’re gonna move in, might as well contribute. utilities, groceries… maybe even a tummy tax.”

his red eyes flicked up at you, narrowing. “the fuck is a tummy tax?”

you grinned. “unlimited kisses. daily.”

he snorts, pressing another slow, open-mouthed kiss to your skin. “already payin’ for that, pretty."

and you laughed, because for all his big talk, katsuki bakugo adored you. as long as he had you, nothing else mattered.

and despite the way he ran his mouth, he never let you feel insecure. if he ever caught you looking at yourself too long in the mirror, he’d grab you and pull you onto the bed, hovering over you with that intense, fiery gaze.  

"the fuck are you thinkin’ about?" he’d demand, hands gripping your thighs, squeezing, leaving marks. "you’re mine. this body? all mine. and i fuckin’ love every inch of you. don’t ever fuckin’ doubt how much i want you."

and god, did he prove it.

he didn't just tolerate your body—he adored it. and thats why you found yourself looking down at him lying comfortably on his back, eyes dark with anticipation. he was waiting—no, expecting—you to sit on his face.

you shake your head, heat creeping up your neck. "i can just lay down, 'suki..."

katsuki scoffs, sitting up slightly, his hands already reaching for your thighs, clearly impatient. "tch. and deny me a great view? cut the crap and get up here, sweets."

you shake your head again. "i just- what if i’m too heavy?"

he lets out a sharp, exasperated scoff. "for who? me? well that’s rude."

"it’s not..." you hesitate for half a second, but that’s all the time he gives you. 

he yanks you down onto his face with a low growl, his mouth immediately sealing over your cunt. "stop stallin’ and just give me what i want..."

you hesitate, subtly hovering just above him instead of lowering yourself onto his face, holding onto the headboard for support. his eyes flick up to yours, and the second he realizes what you're doing, his expression darkens.

"the fuck do you think you’re doin’?" his grip on your thighs tightens, his voice a low, dangerous growl. 

“i don’t want to crush you—”

“are you fuckin’ serious?” his voice drips with pure offense, like you just insulted his entire existence. "you really think i can't handle you? think you're doin’ me a favor by holdin’ back?"

you try to protest, but he’s already yanking you down on his face, forcing you to sit properly. his growl vibrates against you as he buries his face between your thighs. the way he looked up at you—pissed off and starving—sent a shiver down your spine.

your face burned, heart pounding in your chest. "i just— i don't wanna make you uncomfortable."

katsuki let out a sharp laugh, the sound vibrating against your folds, lifting you by your hips to give him room to speak from time to time. 

"uncomfortable? sweetheart, the only thing makin’ me uncomfortable right now is you not sittin’ on my goddamn face like i told you to."

your lips parted in protest, but a startled moan escapes you as his tongue flicks over your clit, sharp and demanding. his grip on your thighs is punishing, locking you in place as he devours you with obscene hunger.

"katsuki—" you try to lift yourself, but his hands hold you firm.

"nah. shut up," he murmurs burying his tongue between your thighs without warning. a moan escapes you as he groans against your heat, his fingers digging into your skin to hold you firmly in place. 

"fuckin’ ridiculous," he mutters between licks, voice muffled. "ain’t takin’ this disrespect. you ain't doin’ me no favors by holdin’ back. told ya before— i want you—every fuckin’ inch of you." 

your breath hitches, and katsuki smirks like he knows he’s got you. his crimson eyes flicked up at you, glinting with mischief as he devoured the fuck out of your pretty little cunt, tongue glazed with his spit and your slick. 

"so don't you ever pull that hoverin’ shit again,” he warns, his tongue licking a broad stripe through your folds "or i swear to god, i'll make you sit here all fuckin' night—"

his words were cut off by the way he devoured you, lips and tongue working so hungrily that your legs nearly gave out then and there. his crimson eyes burned into you, daring you to try that shit again.

you whimper, thighs trembling, and he doubles down, tongue curling inside you before dragging back up to your clit, sucking just to hear you whine.

"fuck, baby," he groans against you, his voice thick with need. "taste so fuckin’ good."

your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging on the soft strands, but it only spurs him on. his hands slide to your ass, forcing you to take everything he gave you. he’s lost in it, completely drowning in you, and he likes it. loves it. wants more. 

"you drive me fuckin’ insane," he murmured, sucking your clit into his mouth with a filthy slurp. "you’re too damn perfect, and it pisses me off."  

your fingers tightened around the headboard, thighs trembling around his head. “how is that my fault? you're the one who—"

katsuki let out a frustrated growl against your cunt, cutting you off before you could finish. without warning, he flattened his tongue and dragged a slow, deliberate lick through your folds, making you gasp.

"its your fucking fault," he went on like he couldn’t believe you had the audacity to act so damn innocent.

his lips brush against your pussy as your legs threatened to close around his head, but his grip was firm, keeping you spread open for him. "prancin’ around, bein’ so goddamn pretty. takin’ up space in my head. gettin’ under my fuckin' skin and you expect me to act normal?"

you tried to answer, but he didn’t give you the chance. a sharp suck on your clit had your head tipping back, a needy whine escaping before you could stop it. his tongue slid through your folds again, swirling around your clit, and the sudden sensation made you choke on your words.

"katsuki—"

"nah. told you to shut up." he cut you off, voice muffled against your dripping cunt. "if you're gonna talk, you can fuckin’ moan."

your noises only spurred him on. your fingers found their way into his hair, gripping tightly as pleasure pooled in your stomach. his tongue worked you over with precision, switching between sucking and licking until your hips were rolling into his face, chasing more. 

"that's it," he muttered, sucking your clit into his mouth again, hard, and the moan that tore from your throat was anything but coherent, fucking you with his tongue. "you wanna run your mouth? do it like this." 

you could barely form a response, your mind going blank as he sucked hard on your clit, his tongue relentless. the only thing that left your lips was a desperate, broken moan.

"fuckin' knew it," he groaned, his voice sending another wave of heat through your body. "knew you’d sound so fuckin' pretty when you just shut the fuck up while riding my face. could watch you like this all fuckin’ day."

you let out a shaky breath, barely able to focus as his tongue flicked over your clit again. katsuki pulled back just enough to suck in a breath, his lips slick and glistening with your arousal. his crimson eyes burned into you, half-lidded and desperate, but still sharp with command.

“fuck,” he groaned, voice thick with hunger. “touch yourself, pretty girl. play with those pretty tits for me.”

your breath caught in your throat, and you hesitated, already feeling overwhelmed by the way he was devouring you. but his grip tightened on your thighs, his fingers digging into your flesh in warning.

“c’mon, sweets,” he rasped, his tongue flicking out to tease your clit before pulling back again. his eyes dragged up your body, the heat in them making you dizzy. “be a good girl and gimme a show, yeah?"

with trembling hands, you reached up, cupping your tits, teasing your own nipples the way you knew he liked. you kneaded them softly at first, rolling your thumbs over your nipples, but the second you pinched them, katsuki groaned, his eyes locked onto you like you were the only thing in existence.

“fuck yeah,” he muttered, running his tongue through your folds before sucking your clit into his mouth again. “just like that, baby. play with those tits— keep puttin’ on a show for me while i eat this pretty little pussy.”

his tongue worked you over with hungry, unrelenting strokes, the obscene slurps and groans vibrating against you as he devoured you like a man starved.

you tugged at your nipples, your head falling back as pleasure rippled through you. your breath hitched, your fingers tightening around your nipples as the combination of your own hands on your body and his mouth wrecking you from below had your head spinning.

“katsuki—” you gasped, thighs trembling around his head. “i’m— i’m close.”

that was all it took. katsuki groaned deep in his throat, the sound vibrating against your cunt as his grip on your thighs tightened. his tongue worked even faster, flicking and circling your clit with devastating precision, like he needed you to fall apart for him or he'd die.

"yeah?" he rasped between licks, his voice thick and wrecked. "then fuckin’ give it to me, sweets. wanna feel you cum on my face."

he didn’t slow down, didn’t let up for even a second. his hands urged you down harder, forcing you to really sit on his face, and the pressure—his tongue, his mouth, the way he sucked on your clit—sent you careening straight into your orgasm.

your back arched, a broken moan spilling from your lips as pleasure crashed over you, white-hot and overwhelming. katsuki groaned against you like he felt it, like he was the one cumming, and he didn’t stop licking, didn’t stop devouring you, even as you trembled above him.

he finally pulled away, his lips and chin glistening with your slick as he sucked in a breath, eyes dark with hunger. he gave your thighs one last squeeze before gripping your waist.

“get up."

you blinked down at him, still trying to catch your breath. “what?”

“i said, get up,” he growled. "need to be inside you. now.”

you whined, shaking your head weakly. “katsuki, i just— i just came…”

“and?” he scoffed, sitting up slightly. “the fuck that got to do with me?”

before you could protest again, his strong arms moved, flipping you onto your back like you weighed nothing. a surprised yelp left your lips, but katsuki was already on top of you, pressing you into the mattress, his body burning hot against yours with his lips on yours.

"don't care if you just came," he muttered against your lips, biting down on your bottom one before sucking it into his mouth. "wanna feel you squeeze the cum outta me this time."

your head spun as he hovered over you, his weight pressing you down into the mattress. his hands were everywhere—gripping, kneading—like he couldn’t stand being apart from you for even a second.

"katsuki—"

"shut up," he growled, shoving your legs open with his knee. "you think i’m lettin’ you off that easy? nah. you got one, and now i’m gettin’ mine.”

you gasped as his hands grabbed your thighs, spreading them wider as he settled between them, his cock already hard and leaking against your folds. he positioned himself at your pussy, the tip of his cock pressing insistently against you.

"look at you," he murmured, rubbing his throbbing tip through your slick folds. "all fuckin’ messy for me already."

you gasped, legs twitching from overstimulation. “i— i need a second—”

“the fuck you do,” he muttered, lining himself up with your entrance. “you’re fuckin’ soaked. you’re fine.”

and before you could say another word, he thrusted into you, stretching you open in one slow, deep stroke.

"don't care what the fuck you say," he rasps. "bein’ so fuckin’ sweet, it makes me wanna ruin you."

your hands scrambled against his shoulders, nails digging in as you let out a choked sob, overwhelmed, tears pricking at your eyes as he kept moving, his cock dragging against your already-sensitive walls. “k-katsuki—'s too much—”

he didn't stop. didn't even hesitate. he knew better. knew you. if it was really too much, if you truly couldn’t take it, you would’ve said the safe word. and since you hadn’t? that meant you loved this—loved how he was using you, pushing you past your limits, making you take every inch of him.

“yeah? then why’s this pussy still fuckin’ suckin’ me in, huh?” he leaned down, his mouth brushing against your ear. “you know what to say if you really wanted me to stop, sweets.”

you whimpered, blinking up at him, your face hot and damp with tears. your breath hitched when he rolled his hips deeper, making your back arch off the bed.

“you like it, don’t you?” he murmured, dragging his lips along your cheek, tasting the tears running down your face. his hands pinned your wrists down beside your head, locking you in place beneath him. “fuckin’ cryin’ and takin’ my dick so good anyway. knew you’d let me use this sweet little pussy however the fuck i wanted.”

your body shook with every thrust, overstimulated and overwhelmed, but the pleasure was so sharp and dizzying, that all you could do was moan through the tears. you sobbed, back arching, hands clutching at the sheets. it was too much, but it felt too good. 

 his thumb swiped at your tear-streaked cheek, his other hand pressing down on your lower stomach, feeling the way he stretched you open. 

“c’mon, sweetheart,” he rasped, voice husky as he fucked into you harder, deeper, making sure you felt every inch. “be good for me. just take it. let me use you, yeah?”

you could barely think, barely breathe, and yet you nodded. and that was all he needed before his grip on your hips tightened, his cock stretching you wide, and he really started fucking you.

his hips snapped forward, burying himself deeper inside you, groaning as your walls clenched around him, still fluttering. his hand came up to grip your jaw, tilting your head to make you look at him.

“look at you,” he murmured, taking in the sight of you, tears spilling down your cheeks, the way your lips trembled. “so fuckin’ pretty like this. cryin’ for me. takin’ me like a good fuckin’ girl, squeezin’ me so tight, shit—”

your body trembled beneath him, your sobs mixing with broken moans as he fucked into you relentlessly. your arms struggled against his grip, desperate to reach for him, but he only pressed you deeper into the mattress, keeping you pinned.

“k-katsuki—” you gasped, tears slipping down your cheeks. “please—kiss me—”

he should’ve been satisfied with how wrecked you already were, with the way your body clenched around him so tight—but fuck, hearing you beg for his kisses?

that only made him worse.

“tch. still so fuckin’ needy, even when i’m ruining you.” 

his grip on your wrists loosens just enough for you to reach up. the second your hands touched him, you yanked him down, crashing your lips against his, desperate for the closeness, for the warmth of his mouth against yours.

katsuki groaned into the kiss, deep and hungry, swallowing your cries as he kissed you hard. his tongue pushes past your lips, claiming you just as much as his cock did. his thrusts didn’t slow, didn’t soften—if anything, he fucked you harder, like he wanted to ruin you completely.

“that what you needed, pretty girl?” he murmured against your lips, his breath heavy, your sobs melting into whimpers. “that why you’re cryin’? ‘cause you needed me to kiss you while i fuck you?”

you nodded frantically, another broken whimper slipping past your lips. “y-yeah—needed you—”

“yeah?” he smirked against your mouth, nipping at your bottom lip before kissing you again—sloppier, deeper, making sure you’d never forget exactly who you belonged to.

his rhythm starts to stutter, hips snapping into you harder, sloppier, and you felt the way his body tensed, the way his grip on your hips turned bruising. he forced another helpless cry from you, and he groaned against your lips, drinking in every sound.

"fuck—fuck," katsuki whined, voice raw and desperate as he buried himself deep inside you, his forehead pressed against yours, his breath hot and ragged, his lips brushing against your own as he lost himself in you. "you feel so goddamn good—s'fuckin’ tight, baby—"

you knew that tone—knew the way his voice cracked when he felt needy, when he was so fucking close to cumming. you loved when he got like this, when all his control slipped away and he was nothing but whiny, desperate need.

"katsuki—" you gasped, nails digging into his back, legs wrapping around his waist to pull him deeper. "i'm—i'm close, i'm so close, wanna cum together—"

his grip tightened, a strangled groan ripping from his throat as he snapped his hips into you, his pace turning desperate chasing both of your highs. "fuck, yeah? c'mon, baby— wanna feel you cum, wanna fuckin' feel you all over my cock—"

his next thrust sent you over, body locking up as the heat coiled tight in your belly and snapped all at once. your moan shattered into a cry as your whole body trembled, clenching around him so hard its about to break him.

“oh, fuck—” katsuki choked, eyes rolling back as he lost it completely, slamming into you one last time before burying himself into your warm, wet pussy. his whole body shook, breath stuttering as he spilled inside you, groaning out your name like a prayer.

he kept thrusting—shallow, drawn-out rolls of his hips, like he never wanted to stop feeling you, even as he came down from his high. his forehead pressed against yours again, his breath heavy, his body spent.

for a moment, the only sounds in the room were your ragged breaths, your bodies still tangled, clinging to each other as you both came down from your highs. katsuki was still holding you, his grip tight but no longer desperate—just grounding. 

then, with a deep exhale, katsuki finally pulled out, rolling onto his side and gathering you against his chest. his arms wrapped around you securely, his large hand rubbing slow, lazy circles into your back. you felt his eyes scan over you with something softer than before—something almost tender.

“you alright, sweets?”

you nodded, still catching your breath, but the way your body trembled slightly didn’t escape him. he scoffs, sitting up just enough to lean over and press soft kisses to your damp forehead, then your cheek, then your lips.

“liar,” he muttered, but there was no bite to it. only warmth. “you cried, y’know.”

you let out a breathy laugh, snuggling closer. “you were relentless.”

he clicked his tongue, one of his hands finding the back of your head, his fingers slipping into your hair, the other resting on the small of your back, holding you close.

you melted into his chest, sighing against his skin. “you’re so warm…”

he smirked, pressing a lazy kiss to your temple. “duh. i’m literally made of explosions, dumbass.”

you lightly smacked his chest, making him chuckle. but his teasing quickly faded as he tilted your chin up, crimson eyes searching yours. his thumb brushed over your cheek, wiping away the last remnants of your overstimulated tears.

“seriously, though,” he murmured, quieter now. “you okay?”

your heart squeezed at how gentle he was being. how, despite how rough he could be, how demanding, he never once forgot to take care of you afterward. you leaned into his touch, nuzzling his palm.

“i’m perfect,” you smiled sleepily. “because of you.”

“tch. sappy little shit," katsuki exhaled sharply through his nose, looking away. his ears definitely got redder.  “you sure, though? i didn’t—y’know… go too hard?”

you hummed, tilting your head to press a lazy kiss to his jaw. “i'm fine, katsuki. i promise." 

he just huffed, shifting to grab a towel from the nightstand. “yeah, well, you better be. was holdin’ back just for you.”

you snorted. “that was you holding back?”

katsuki shot you a look but didn’t argue. instead, he started cleaning you up, his touch uncharacteristically gentle. he was quiet as he worked, his brows furrowed in concentration.

“…was it really okay?” his voice was quieter now, hesitant in a way he rarely was.

you cupped his cheek, running your thumb over the sharp line of his jaw. “yes. i’d tell you if it wasn’t, katsuki.”

his crimson eyes searched yours for a long moment before he finally exhaled, tension melting from his shoulders. “good.”

he kissed your forehead, then your nose, then finally your lips, lingering there as if he never wanted to pull away.

“cause next time, i’m makin’ you cry even harder.”

you groaned, shoving his face away as he laughed, the sound deep and full of warmth. 

katsuki didn’t say anything for a moment after—just stared at you, his expression completely unguarded. no sharp smirks, no cocky grins—just raw, unfiltered devotion.

he stared at you like you’d just hung the damn moon. like you were the only thing in the world that mattered.  

you reached up to brush a few stray strands of hair from his forehead, and he caught your wrist midair, holding it for just a second before bringing it to his lips. the kiss he pressed against your palm was barely there, but it sent warmth blooming in your chest.

“you’re lookin’ at me funny,” you murmured, voice drowsy.

katsuki huffed a quiet laugh, but he didn’t look away. “yeah?”

“yeah,” you smiled lazily back at him. “like i just saved a bunch of kids from a burning building or something."

his smirk was faint, more of a ghost of amusement than anything. he pressing lazy kisses along your wrist, trailing them down to the inside of your palm. “you didn’t save a bunch of kids. you’re just—you. and i dunno what the hell i’d do without that."

your chest ached at the raw honesty in his voice, but before you could say anything, katsuki pulled you in even closer, pressing his face against your shoulder, like he was trying to hide.

“go to sleep,” he grumbled, voice muffled against your skin. “say any dumb shit about it, and i’ll smother you.”

you couldn’t help but smile as you curled against him, feeling the way his arms locked around you just a little tighter. “mhm. goodnight, katsuki.”

and then you smiled—sleepy, content, completely at ease in his arms.

katsuki stiffened. just for a second. just enough for you to feel the way his breath hitched, the way his hold on you tightened like he was trying to keep himself together.

fuck.

that damn smile. that look on your face. like he was your whole world. like you trusted him. like you loved him.

he clenched his jaw, exhaling slowly through his nose, like that would do anything to calm the way his heart was fucking pounding.

"goodnight." 

he was fucked. absolutely, completely, and hopelessly fucked.

because thats when katsuki bakugo realized he was in love with you. and he couldn't do anything about it.

‎‧₊˚✧[ it's me, kia ! ]✧˚₊‧ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ ‎‧₊˚✧[ more of katsuki ! ]✧˚₊‧

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