#Take Your Cross And Follow Christ

[betterlifeinoverall-rethabilep]

Morning Holy Bible Verse: Return To God

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[thelordismylightandmysalvation]

Verse of the Day - Luke 9:23-24

[mybeautifulchristianjourney]

Jesus again refuses to give a sign

1-4 Once the Pharisees and the Sadducees arrived together to test him, and asked him to give them a sign from Heaven. But he replied, “When the evening comes you say, ‘Ah, fine weather—the sky is red.’ In the morning you say, ‘There will be a storm today, the sky is red and threatening.’ Yes, you know how to interpret the look of the sky but you have no idea how to interpret the signs of the times! A wicked and unfaithful age insists on a sign; and it will not be given any sign at all but that of the prophet Jonah.” And he turned on his heel and left them.

He is misunderstood by the disciples

5-12 Then his disciples came to him on the other side of the lake, forgetting to bring any bread with them. “Keep your eyes open,” said Jesus to them, “and be on your guard against the ‘yeast’ of the Pharisees and Sadducees!” But they were arguing with each other, and saying, “We forgot to bring the bread.” When Jesus saw this he said to them, “Why all this argument among yourselves about not bringing any bread, you little-faiths? Don’t you understand yet, or have you forgotten the five loaves and the five thousand, and how many baskets you took up afterwards; or the seven loaves and the four thousand and how many baskets you took up then? I wonder why you don’t understand that I wasn’t talking about bread at all—I told you to beware of the yeast of the Pharisees and Sadducees.” Then they grasped the fact that he had not told them to be beware of yeast in the ordinary sense but of the teaching of the Pharisees and Sadducees.

Peter’s bold affirmation

13 When Jesus reached the Caesarea-Philippi district he asked his disciples a question. “Who do people say the Son of Man is?”

14 “Well, some say John the Baptist,” they told him. “Some say Elijah, others Jeremiah or one of the prophets.”

15 “But what about you?” he said to them. “Who do you say that I am?”

16 Simon Peter answered, “You? You are Christ, the Son of the living God!”

17-20 “Simon, son of Jonah, you are a fortunate man indeed!” said Jesus, “for it was not your own nature but my Heavenly Father who has revealed this truth to you! Now I tell you that you are Peter the rock, and it is on this rock that I am going to found my Church, and the powers of death will never prevail against it. I will give you the keys of the kingdom of Heaven; whatever you forbid on earth will be what is forbidden in Heaven and whatever you permit on earth will be what is permitted in Heaven!” Then he impressed on his disciples that they should not tell anyone that he was Christ.

Jesus speaks about his passion, and the cost of following him

21 From that time onwards Jesus began to explain to his disciples that he would have to go to Jerusalem, and endure much suffering from the elders, chief priests and scribes, and finally be killed; and be raised to life again on the third day.

22-23 Then Peter took him on one side and started to remonstrate with him over this. “God bless you, Master! Nothing like this must happen to you!” Then Jesus turned round and said to Peter, “Out of my way, Satan! … you stand right in my path, Peter, when you look at things from man’s point of view and not from God’s”

24-26 Then Jesus said to his disciples, “If anyone wants to follow in my footsteps he must give up all right to himself, take up his cross and follow me. For the man who wants to save his life will lose it; but the man who loses his life for my sake will find it. For what good is it for a man to gain the whole world at the price of his own soul? What could a man offer to buy back his soul once he had lost it?

27-28 “For the Son of Man will come in the glory of his Father and in the company of his angels and then he will repay every man for what he has done. Believe me, there are some standing here today who will know nothing of death till they have seen the Son of Man coming as a king.” — Matthew 16 | J.B. Phillips New Testament (PHILLIPS) The New Testament in Modern English by J.B Phillips copyright © 1960, 1972 J. B. Phillips. Cross References: Job 34:11; Psalm 42:2; Psalm 49:8; Psalm 129:2; Proverbs 26:5; isaiah 22:22; Isaiah 57:3; Jeremiah 1:1; Matthew 1:16; Matthew 3:7; Matthew 4:10; Matthew 5:20; Matthew 6:30; Matthew 8:20; Matthew 10:38-39; Matthew 12:40; Matthew 14:17; Matthew 14:20; Matthew 21:25; Mark 8:15; Luke 9:18; Luke 12:54; Luke 12:56; John 1:42; John 12;25; Revelation 3:7

[mariefollowerofjesuschrist]

Remember, we must take up the cross when we follow Jesus.

[igate777]

THE LIES BEHIND SELF-LOVE.

Self-love is one of the subtle ways the enemy uses to prevent us from yielding to the voice of carrying our cross.

The cross is the answer to the sin factor. Remember, you can’t Love yourself more than Christ love you. If you truly desire to be the DISCIPLE of Christ, you must then take up your Cross and follow Jesus Christ.

For the life and glory of your reborn spirit to take full charge of the driver's seat of your life, the old, outer man must die, and the way to death is through the cross. You see, nobody can successfully escape being ruled by the devil without embracing the lifestyle of the cross.

All my life I had struggled with the sin nature until I discovered that the answer was hidden behind the words of Our Lord that say, take up your cross daily and follow me.

Many desire to follow Christ without taking up their cross. Unfortunately, your journey will not end with Christ because, on the way, you will be strongly distracted by the lust of the eyes, the pride of life, and the deceitfulness of riches.

These three companions are the deadliest enemies of man either born again or not. Don’t allow the lies of false self-love to prevent you from experiencing true joy and fulfillment.

Except the seed of the corn falls and dies, it abides alone, but if it dies, it brings forth much fruit. The question you should then ask yourself is, do I sincerely love myself, or am being deceived by thinking I do?

[samaraxmorgan]

Your Roommate Sukuna

“That Time He Sabotaged My Date”

Modern no curse AU, Sukuna X Reader

Synopsis: This housing crisis sure is no joke huh? Rent is just too expensive to live alone, so you put out a listing for a roommate and ended up living with none other than the tattooed bad boy Ryomen Sukuna! This is part of a series of drabbles and oneshots showing glimpses into you and Sukuna’s living situation!!

Contains: yandere(ish)!Sukuna, fluff but he’s kinda very toxic, stalking, fem implied reader (wearing a dress and heels), brief mention of a bomb (there aren’t any bombs present), narration is from Sukuna’s POV

Word Count: 1.78k

Series Masterlist - My Full Masterlist

Whoever decided this dingy shithole is a decent place to take you on a date should be fucking shot.

Maybe it was wrong of Sukuna to eavesdrop on your private conversation this morning, but in his defense you were talking on the phone loud as hell in the middle of the living room. Should’ve been quieter when you were telling your friend about the date you had planned for tonight.

And maybe it’s weird that Sukuna secretly followed you here to keep an eye on you, but it’s not like he has nefarious intentions. He’s heard of this place and one, it’s fucking gross, and two, it’s got one hell of a reputation to say the least. Definitely the kind of place for someone to get murdered, he’s just watching out for your safety!

Oh christs sake, who is he fooling? No, he followed you here because he’ll be damned if you get a boyfriend.

He feels like a creep, sitting at the bar behind your table in a black hoodie and an old baseball cap, eyes fixed on the back of your head. The guy sitting across from you is so bland, yet for some reason you’re still giggling and twirling your hair around your finger as if you don’t know that you can do so much better.

There was no need for you to doll yourself up for this fuckin’ loser; you’ve got on a pretty red dress and stiletto heels, probably anticipating him to take you somewhere nice, decent, at least. But he brought you to some run down shithole restaurant that hasn’t been renovated since the 70’s and is definitely bearing several health code violations. It’s honestly embarrassing, Sukuna would take you somewhere so much nicer than this, he knows what you deserve.

He’s been sitting at the bar sipping on his drink for the last half hour, watching the way you prop your elbow onto the table, cross your legs in your seat, tap your heel against the leg of your chair, listening to you laugh and chat about your job. Meanwhile, mister nobody in front of you is chewing with his mouth open like some kind of ape, not realizing how much of a privilege he has by being able to treat you to dinner. Un-fucking-believable.

Finally the moment he’s been waiting for happens. Bland And Boring stands up from his seat and leaves you at the table to go use the restroom, so now it’s time for Sukuna to get this fool away from you. His eyes follow the man as he walks past the bar, not even trying to be discreet. He gives Sukuna a quick glance and nods his head politely, making his way towards the bathrooms near the front of the restaurant.

There’s no time to waste.

Sukuna stands from his seat at the bar, trailing behind your date and following him into the bathroom. As the door clicks shut behind him he realizes that it’s just the two of them. Perfect, no interruptions.

He walks up behind the man, watching him through the large mirror above the sinks. Now that he’s up close he can really see how pathetic this guy is, nervously looking up towards Sukuna as he absolutely towers above him, his stature menacing and the look in his eyes bordering on deadly.

“D-do you need some-”

“You should leave.” Your date jumps at the sound of Sukuna’s voice; dark, deep, and serious.

“Um… why?” His eyes flicker around the room, definitely praying to whatever god he believes in to come save him.

Sukuna is surprised he isn’t immediately obeying. Has he grown soft? Surely not, this guy just needs a little extra push.

So Sukuna says the first thing that comes into mind.

“I have a bomb.”

Maybe that’s a little dramatic, but god damn does it do the trick. The guy looks like he’s about to fucking piss himself, eyes widening in terror as he quickly nods his head and runs out of the restaurant.

Sukuna keeps a keen eye on him through the windows, watching him nearly leap into his car and hearing the tires screech as he speeds out of the parking lot. It seems you also had an eye on your date, your jaw nearly dropping to the floor as you assumed that he just ditched you with the bill.

Now’s his time to shine.

He stuffs his hat into the front pocket of his hoodie and strides up behind you to your table, bending down to be eye level with you in the booth and putting on his best mildly surprised and kind of amused expression, “Well look at that.”

“Ugh, god.” You bury your face into your hands, “And here I thought my day couldn’t get any worse.”

He can’t help the smirk that grows on his face. It is his fault you’re in this situation, but I mean come on, that guy was no good for you anyway. “You sample the whole fuckin’ menu or something?”

You groan and roll your eyes, perfect, you took the bait, “I just got dine and dashed, asshole.”

Sukuna lets out a laugh as he flops down into the seat across from you, god if only you knew. A man would have to be a real idiot to stand you up, but he has to try and keep his act together, “Yeah? Guys are fuckin’ assholes, surprise.”

The pout on your face is too sweet, makes it hard for him to really feel bad, “I was really liking him too.”

Oh, he definitely doesn’t feel bad now. He pulls his card out of his wallet as the waitress approaches the table, handing it off to her nonchalantly as he continues the conversation, “Don’t know why you bother going on dates with these guys.”

You try to interject the waitress but she walks away before you can stop her, a defeated frown pulling down your lips, “What are you doing here anyway?”

He plops his elbow onto the table, shrugging his shoulders casually, “What? Am I not allowed to go to my favorite shitty restaurant?”

You perk up slightly, “Right? I saw a roach on the way in, I can’t believe he recommended this place.”

The waitress comes back and hands Sukuna his card, he quickly scribbles his signature on the receipt and stands from his seat at the booth, “Let’s get you out of here before you get ringworm or some shit, nasty fuckin’ place.”

Finally a smile creeps onto your face, lighting up the dreary atmosphere. You adjust your dress as you stand up and he can’t help but smirk at how good you look all dolled up, dark red dress hugging your figure as if you wore it for him. He leads you out of the restaurant, making sure to hold the door open for you since he noticed that your loser date let it slam in your face on your way in.

Droplets of rain were starting to sprinkle down, which is pretty unlucky considering it’s a ten minute walk back to the apartment. But that’s not a problem for Sukuna, if anything it’s a perfect opportunity. He catches the frown curling down your pouty lips as you fix your fingers through your nicely styled hair, probably trying to keep it from getting messed up, and without missing a beat he pulls his hoodie off, sliding it over your head and down your arms.

“I’m sure you spent hours dolling yourself up, would hate to ruin it.” His voice is smooth as butter, leaning down to eye level with you as he adjusts the hood to make sure your hair is covered.

A blush creeps onto your face, mumbling a quiet “Thank you” as you pull your arms through the sleeves. It honestly looks like you’re drowning in his massive hoodie, the sleeves too long for your arms that your fingers can’t even peek out and the hem at the bottom falling at your upper thighs.

Sukuna thought you looked good in that red dress, but god damn you look heavenly wearing his clothes. Why didn’t he do this sooner?

You both start to walk down the sidewalk to the apartment, the evening is quiet save for the muffled sounds of music and chatter coming from the bars and restaurants that you pass by. You’re walking right up against his side, your arm occasionally brushing against his and he can’t help but wonder if you’re getting closer on purpose.

Sukuna breaks the peaceful silence, “So was the food good at least?”

You look up towards him quizzically, squinting your eyes in a way that’s too fucking cute for him to handle, “Shouldn’t you be the expert?”

“Why t’fuck would I know? Never been there.”

“I thought that was your favorite shitty restaurant?”

Oops.

He got way too distracted looking into your pretty eyes. Lucky for him, he didn’t need to come up with an excuse to cover him because a loud snap rings through the air as you stumble forward. His arm quickly wraps around your waist to steady you before you can fall, holding you flush against him.

You look down at your feet and let out a loud groan of frustration, “Fucks sake, really?” You lift your foot up to inspect your shoe, your stiletto heel barely dangling by a thread as it snapped off from the sole.

Sukuna didn’t mean to laugh, but there was no containing it. You look up at him with an adorable angry face, cheeks burning red as you curse him out and it only makes him smile more. You’re just too damn cute when you’re pissed off.

“It’s not funny! These were expensive!”

“Yeah yeah, c’mere.” His arm stays wrapped around your waist as he leans down and hooks his other arm behind your knees, lifting you off the ground with ease as you squeal in surprise and wrap your arms around his neck to cling onto him.

Now he could bet that other guy wouldn’t do this for you, not just was he scrawny as all hell but he wouldn’t be nearly enough of a gentleman. Your arms tighten around the back of Sukuna’s neck as he starts walking to the apartment again, your cheek nuzzled against his shoulder as you slowly relax into his hold. He’s actually liking this a lot, silently considering purposely taking a wrong turn on the way home so he can hold you longer.

Hopefully after this you’ll stop going on stupid dates with worthless men, you’ve already got everything you could ever want right at home after all. Soon enough you’ll realize that you don’t need anyone but him.

A/N: This was SO FUN to write!! I love him he’s such an asshole askakksksk, I rlly liked the idea of doing a light hearted yandere part (even tho NOBODY asked for this skaksksk) Dividers by @adornedwithlight

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[babygorewhore]

10 things I hate about you.

Logan Howlett x fem reader series. Part one

Part two

Warnings! No smut yet but Age gap! Enemies to lovers! Logan is extremely Grumpy! Only one bed! Logan is in his late 40s and reader is late 20s!

“Don’t get any ideas. Don’t touch my radio. Don’t put your feet on the dashboard and do not adjust the temperature.” Logan growled and gave you one of his signature scowls as he turned the keys.

This was not ideal.

You were stuck in this situation with the world’s grumpiest man. Logan Howlett aka Wolverine. You did not want to go but Charles Xavier firmly believed you both would be the best chance to investigate what was happening. Rumors of a particularly powerful mutant roaming about.

You rolled your eyes as Logan mumbled around his cigar he chewed on.

“Yeah, I think the radio is the least of your concerns, Logan.”

“Don’t call me that.” He said sharply and you crossed your arms.

“Oh sorry, do you prefer asshole? Maybe dickhead? Fuckwad?” You challenged.

“You can call me Wolverine like everyone else does, girl.” He snapped and you purposely rested your boot covered foot on his dash.

“Some people refer to you as your real name.” He reached over to swipe your leg but you dodged his attempt.

“What did I fucking say? Put your damn leg down.” He barked and you smirked.

“Or what?”

“I will pull this car over and leave you there. I swear to God.” He snarled and you leaned in towards him.

“And then I’ll just find you again, Logan.” Instead of answering, he clenched his jaw and jerked his focus back to the road.

“You’re not afraid of me, are you?” You asked and he snorted.

“Afraid of you? Why would I be afraid of you?” His question was filled with unbridled annoyance and you shrugged.

“Most people are.”

“Well, I’m not.”

You grin and take the opportunity to further push his buttons. “You’re not afraid of me but you’ve surely thought about me naked, huh?”

“Jesus Christ.” Logan slammed his head back against the seat. “If the entire ride is going to be like this, then turn on the fucking radio. No more talking.”

You turned the volume up triumphantly and looked out the window. A metal song played in the background and several minutes went by without either of you speaking.

“You never told me what your power was.” He stated. You turned your head towards him.

“No, I didn’t.”

He rolled his eyes and gripped the steering wheel harder. “Hmmm.”

An hour later, Logan jerked his head and you gestured to a sign on the road. “We need to stop for the night. You’re about to fall asleep.”

To your surprise, he didn’t tell you to fuck yourself and instead he silently drove to the motel that was displayed on the navigation sign.

He parked and exited the car. You silently followed him, jogging to keep up with his long legs and you moved inside the building.

“We need two rooms.” Logan huffed and the worker shook his head.

“Sorry, man. We only have one available.” Logan turned to leave but you quickly set a hand on his arm.

“We’ll take it.”

“The hell we will-“ He argued but you threw a wad of bills on the counter as the worker turned to grab a key.

“Put it under my name,” You told him as Logan furiously sniffed and tightened his lips.

“I don’t know what game you’re trying to play, little girl but I’ll be damned if I’m about to share a room with you.”

You chuckled loudly and firmly smacked his chest. “God, he’s such a jokester! Come on, honey.”

“Don’t fucking call me that,” Logan hissed as you attempted to drag him off but he jerked out of your grip and stomped to the room you were both given.

Your body temperature increased in annoyance as you stomped after him and slammed the door behind. Logan was already making himself comfortable and stretching out on the small bed in the room. The only one.

“Oh? Where am I supposed to sleep?”

“On the floor like any puppy.” He answered without opening his eyes.

You went over and kicked the mattress but he didn’t budge.

“Throwing a tantrum. Cute.” Logan turned over on his side and you decided to be petty.

You climbed in next to him and he squirmed. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and legs around his waist like a sloth. “Mmm, goodnight, Logan.”

“Get the fuck off me, girl.”

“Nope. You’ve decided to be an asshole. I need my beauty sleep.” He untangled your limbs and growled deeply.

“I’m not sharing a goddamn bed with you.” You simply pulled up the blanket over yourself, still fully clothed.

“Then sleep on the floor like any feral creature.”

“I’m not arguing with you.”

“Me either.”

Logan rolled over to the edge of the bed, slamming a pillow in the middle. “Don’t fucking cross this line. First thing tomorrow we are leaving, we’re gonna find out what we need to know and I’m taking you the fuck back to Charles.”

“Good to know.” You replied and shut your eyes. “Sweet dreams, Logan.”

So far, you were losing the bet you made with Bobby that you could make him like you. But you weren’t one to give up. This was just day one.

Tagging @olivia-moo @marchsfreakshow @xxbimbobunnyxx @usergeta @nemesyaaa @taintandviolent

Dividers by @cafekitsune

[mattybsgroupie]

tape | matt sturniolo

contents: cursing, fighting; established relationship; oral (m receiving); spanking (f receiving); degradation; p in v; creampie; use of “y/n”; dom!matt

- ♡ -

notes: posting this and another one later this week in celebration of almost 600 followers. so thankful for this community and for every single person that enjoys my writing (but if one gets more likes than the other im KILLING MYSELF) <3 not proofread blablabla hope you enjoy i love y’all so so much

- ♡ -

“y/n!” matt slammed the door shut, loud voice taking over the kitchen, where i was peacefully sitting. “are you fucking dumb?!” he hissed at me, throwing his phone on the table.

“wow, chill” i said, frowning my eyebrows, confused look in my face. “what are you talking about?”

“what did you do with our camera’s flashcard?” matt crossed his arms, impatiently tapping his foot on the ground. my mouth hung open, but no words came out of it. matt looked so angry, and i knew i had cause us trouble. as i kept searching on my mind, he screamed once again “fucking tell me!”

“i don’t fucking know!” i hissed back at him, throwing my hands in the air. “i changed it the last time, i told you we were out of memory but i don’t remember where i put the other one!”

“oh you don’t?” he narrowed his eyes, stepping closer to me and removing a tiny object from his pocket. he showed me the flashcard, holding it with his thumb and index right at my face. “what about leaving it on this fucking table next to nick’s work stuff?”

my eyes widened. “matt i-i’m so sorry, fuck” i stuttered, realizing what i had done.

“you’re sorry now? after nick saw everything? we have so much shit here y/n, for christ’s sake!” matt kept holding the memory card, free hand running through his hair as he tried to calm himself down. “he saw your naked pictures, he saw mine! there are compromising videos in here y/n, can you imagine if he had uploaded any of them by mistake?”

“matt, please” i got up, walking closer to matt and resting my hand on his chest. “babe, i didn’t mean it, i’m really fucking sorry.” he looked away, scratching his freshly shaved beard.

“sometimes i think you’re asking for it, you know?” he said grabbing my wrist. “you fucking want our pics to get leaked, so that way everyone can know how much of a slut you are”. matt finished, pulling me to his room as he walked, grip in my skin getting stronger.

he slammed the door once again and pushed me on his bed, my breath turning heavy from his sudden change of behavior. matt went next to his computer, grabbing our camera. it was one of the first cameras the boys ever used to record their youtube videos, and nick gifted it matt after they changed to a new, more modern equipment. matt opened the video screen and turned it on, green light signaling he had started recording.

“take your shorts off” he demanded and i knew i could no longer run from my punishment. i kept sitting, slowly removing the cloth down my legs, kicking it away with my foot. i was wearing pink panties and a t-shirt i borrowed from him, not looking my best.

“you wanted this so bad, didn't you?” he asked, positioning the camera on the nightstand. matt sat next to me, but only to pull my legs over him. he turned me over, my belly now resting on his thighs and my head falling down, only my left arm resting on the mattress. i opened my mouth in disbelief, my calves trying to move away from him somehow.

“what are you doing?” i asked, trying to at least get a bit more comfortable in that position.

“giving you what you wanted” matt said, his arm locking my legs together while the other one held me by my breasts - at least my head wouldn’t be spinning. one of his cold hands smacked my ass, the sudden contact making me choke on a moan. i could feel matt’s grin growing wide as he palmed my skin, preparing me for another slap.

“fuck!” i groaned as the burning sensation started. i knew matt didn’t actually want to hurt me, he rubbed my butt after each smack, soothing the tingles i felt as my blood started to run faster.

“matt- please” i tried to speak, but another spank interrupted me. “behave, yeah?” matt whispered in my ear and pointed to the camera. “everyone’s gonna see how much of a fucking slut you are. can’t even take a punishment, right?” he teased, long fingers now travelling between my buttcheeks, brushing lightly over my panties. matt pressed his digits harder over my cunt, feeling the wetness there “soaked already?”

i looked away, trying to cover my embarrassment with my hands - it was humiliating, my ass in the air being spanked by matt after a mistake i didn’t even mean to make. “you’re fucking embarassed? can you imagine how i was after nick gave this to me? my brother saw everything, your dirty whore” he didn’t stop the slaps, and i couldn’t stop whimpering as his hand kept on marking my skin.

“ah!” i cried once more, until he two other spanks were enough. matt gave a kiss on each of my senstive buttcheeks and tossed me out of his lap, getting up and standing in front of me. he grabbed the camera once again, turning the screen so that only him could see what he was filming. my face was burning red and i was already exhausted. matt looked at me, rising his eyebrows, wide grin on his face.

“come on” he said, zooming the lenses on me. “you’re gonna look so pretty with your mouth wrapped around my cock”.

i gulped, quickly nodding and moving my hands to his belt. i had barely unbuckled it, but i could feel matthew’s impatience growing. i pulled matt’s pants down along with his underwear, revealing his hardened dick. matt moved the camera to show off his own length, eager for me to touch him, even when he was the one in charge.

i wrapped my fingers around his shaft, veins pulsing in my palm. i brought my mouth closer to his tip, lips wrapping around the sensitive area as i received a groan in response, matt finally getting some relief to his aching cock. i couldn’t fit him entirely - matt was huge - so both of my hands started pumping the missing part as i moved my head down.

i heard matt chuckling, delighted with the view of my teary eyes begging for him. he started to slowly move his hips forward, trying to thrust his leaking dick inside of my throat. one of his hands went to my hair, already messy and tangled, in order to set my pace as he pleased.

i mumbled on his cock, asking if i could please, please, please, take a breath. of course, no words came out, my muffled voice only sent vibrations and warmth to his length which made him push his cock forward in my mouth, making me gag.

i could feel the saliva running down the sides of my lips when i softly tapped matt’s thigh and he slowly removed his cock, realizing he might have been a little too rough. i coughed, catching my breath as he pouted at me, faux sympathy showing by the lust in his eyes.

“can’t you take anything?” he asked, tugging the hem of my - his - shirt. “you cry when i spank you, you can’t even blow me properly… weren’t you supposed to act like a good slut?” matt said, helping me remove the white cloth, exposing my breasts. my nipples had been poking through the shirt from a long while, but only now matt decided to zoom in on my nubs. i caught him licking his lips as i positioned myself further on the bed, showing off my body to him. my fingers around as his followed from my neck to my collarbones and down to my tits as i teased my hardened nipples with my own digits.

“so pretty” matt whispered so low i wouldn’t have heard it if i wasn’t paying attention to his lips. “on fours” he said in a serious tone, making my pussy clench.

i turned my body over, standing on my elbows and knees, sticking my ass out as he placed himself on the bed with his knees behind me. matt’s cold fingers touched the waistband of my panties, slowly pulling it down my legs as he filmed everything.

he grabbed his own cock and pumped a few times, spreading the pre-cum along his length before dragging his dick between my buttcheeks and moving it down my cunt, lazily rubbing my folds, not really trying to fuck me. after teasing me a bit more, matt quickly put the camera back on his nightstand, now filming both of us.

matt placed his digits on my entrance, pressing my wet hole with two fingers. he slowly started to push in, but didn’t go all the way, pulling out when he saw me biting my own lips. i whined in protest - i needed him to fill me up. “fucking shut up” he spoke in a lighter mood than in the beginning of the night, showing that he was now just as needy as me.

his hands rested on my hips, holding it tight as he gradually buried himself inside of me. his pre-cum and all of my juices made it easier for matt to slide in, quickly stretching my walls and not giving me time to adjust to his size before pounding into me. “gosh- matt!” i moaned, throwing my head back as my cunt throbbed.

“always so tight for me” he said, hovering his body over mine. his chest was almost glued to my back, one of matt’s hands holding my jaw so he could kiss me. “who owns that pretty cunt, huh?” matt asked, my mouth hanging open as i could no longer stop my gruntings “y-you! ah-”.

“my fucking slut” he kept on talking while jointing his hips forward, cock finally hitting my spot. “only mine”.

“yes matt, fuck!” i pleaded, feeling my cunt clench its own walls against his dick. “i’m gonna cum, please!”

“don’t you fucking dare coming before me” matt said as his thrusts turned sloppier, trying to reach his orgasm. “f-fuck, taking me so well” he groaned loudly, palm once again meeting my ass as he slapped my skin. suddenly, i felt matt’s release filling me up completely, his sticky spurt leaking down my thighs as he finally allowed me to cum as well. my whole body trembled as my orgasm washed over me, my chest panting heavily, letting my head fall on the mattress.

matt slowly pulled out of me, lying down by my side as he came back from his high.

“are you okay?” matt asked, his hand resting on my back while i still recovered. “was i too rough?” he caressed my skin and i could feel the concern in his voice starting to show as i didn’t say anything in response.

“i’m never” i started, still out of breath. “losing the fucking card again”. i heard matt chuckle as he moved his other arm further, trying to reach the nightstand. he grabbed the camera and placed it next to my face. “say hi, pretty”

“hi pretty” i joked, matt giggling before turning the lenses to himself and winking to the video, pressing the finish button and closing the video screen. “and yes, babe. i’m okay” i assured him. “im sorry for being irresponsible and-“ he cut me off with a kiss. as he pressed his lips against mine, i realized he was no longer mad at me, and i could finally let myself relax.

“by the way” he spoke, throwing the camera on his side of the bed “you can leak this one” i giggled, hugging him, both of us acknowledging we could never - ever - lose this flash card again.

- ♡ -

taglist (drop a 🌸!): @thepubeburgler @marselise @pearlzier @mattsfavbitchhh

[textmel8r]

[ DRABBLE ] 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐀𝐑 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 ! ( tenth installment ) in which you find toji fushiguro’s number off a sugar baby site .

୨୧˚ part; one. two. three. four. five. six. seven. eight. nine. ten. eleven.

୨୧˚ incl; toji fushiguro

୨୧˚ cw; sugar mommy! reader , sugar baby! toji , profanity , prostitution , drug and alcohol abuse , smut , allusions to hypersexuality , bisexual! toji

୨୧˚ an; okay there is seriously something wrong with my ability to tag people, certain blog names don’t come up when i search them it’s pissing me offfff SO SORRY if you’re on the tag list and you didn’t get tagged😣

୨୧˚ join my discord server ! we share headcanons, fanfic recs, color roles, and more drooling emoji

Thunderous bangs against his apartment’s front door rouse Toji from comatose. He wakes with a sharp inhale, eyes screwing shut because the sunlight that flooded through the bars of his dusty blinds singed his retinas. There’s a beat of silence, one that makes Toji believe his guest has walked off, and he cuddles back into the sofa with solid intentions of returning to dream state, however those plans go up in flames when more aggressive knocking chimes. The man groans, fingers clawing into the scrappy throw pillow his face is currently buried into. 

“Fuck off!” Toji growls. His voice is muffled and crackling with excess exhaustion. He is so not in the mood for company right now. 

“Fushiguro cut the shit, I’m not playing with you today.” Ugh, that voice. “Open the damn door, don’t make me bust it down.”

More pounding, and the rusty hinges creak from the pressure of it. Given no other choice, Toji peels himself off his crappy little couch and sits for a moment, dragging a heavy hand down his face. There’s a half empty can of Coke perched on the coffee table, amongst a plethora of other trash, and Toji snags it. It’s lost carbonation, totally flat and lukewarm, but it satiates his thirst good enough. 

The knob twists, clinking against the lock impatiently. “Untwist your panties, I’m comin’,” He barks before muttering Jesus Christ under breath. It’s no surprise to see Shiu Kong when he draws open his door, standing erect with his arms crossed in irritation. Toji scowls, “what do you want?”

Shiu knocks shoulders to his when he grants himself entrance, much to Toji’s chagrin. “So you are alive?”

“Still kickin’, yeah.”

Shiu stands in the middle of the living room, flitting over the unkempt scene. It’s a mess, littered with crushed cans and hollowed take-out boxes and dirty laundry. Heavy glass bottles lined the floor near the sofa, some filled halfway with translucent, amberish liquid, some bone dry. “I see you been busy,” the man inquired, sarcastic as all Hell. 

Toji sighs. “Yep.”

“You should crack a window or something, man. It reeks like the inside of a flask in here.”

“I’ll do that,” no he won’t, “what do you want?”

Shiu scoffs at his gall, but Toji wants him out of his place as soon as possible. He knows why his handler has come to visit, it’s most likely a work thing. Fuck work. Fuck Shiu for barging in and interrupting his afternoon nap. Fuck his apartment for being embarrassingly filthy. 

“You’ve been ducking my calls. I don’t appreciate that.”

“Y’know, most people would take that as a sign to fuck off.”

“I’m not most people, though, am I?” He takes a seat on the couch. Toji doesn’t follow suit, choosing to stay leaned against the wall. “I’m technically your superior.”

“You think that title means jack to me?”

Shiu ignores the attitude; he’s used to taking shit from Toji for the better part of a decade now. “It should.” Silence cuts in, and he leans down to pluck one of the thick bottles off the floor by its neck. Liquor sloshes around in the constraint of glass, and Shiu holds it up to the light and skims the label. “This is cheap shit.”

Yeah, it was stupid cheap. Toji swiped it off the clearance rack at the gas station around the corner from his complex. They started tagging the alcohol, made it more difficult to steal, so he exclusively bought the least expensive liquor he could find. “Don’t gotta be smooth. Don’t gotta be much of anything, s’long as it fucks me up.” He didn’t drink rum on a Thursday at 3:42 pm for the taste. 

Shiu hums, looking oddly unnerved. Still holding the bottle, he jerks it up in a slight gesture. “What’s the occasion?” Followed by an awkward chuckle. Toji itches the base of his scalp, pushing down his bed hair. 

“Dunno.”

He was just sort of… regressing. Backsliding into the open arms of his beloved vices. Day drinking again, sloshing himself into liquor-induced unconsciousness that puts him to sleep for days. He starts hitting the casinos more frequently, tapping into poker games and betting away money he doesn’t have because the adrenaline of it all is orgasmic. Drugs have weaved themselves back into Toji’s routine as well; he’s been snorting the pricey shit that gets him numb in the face and leaves that nasty taste dripping in the back of his throat. Shit he hasn’t fucked with since his wife’s death. 

Well, he supposes he’s always been like this. Clinging onto some sort of substance to distract himself from the pain of being alive in a Zenin’s body, no matter how damaging or problematic it may be. His childhood looms over him, even as a grown man, and it’s so terribly pathetic to still be hung up on shit that happened over two decades ago. But he apologetically is. Toji is a pathetic, woeful piece of shit who is forever haunted by memories. 

Distractions. They weren’t always mutilating. Not all of them tore apart his body and soul. Sometimes, they were beautiful. 

His tongue twitches in his mouth, aching to curl around a cigarette. 

Shiu huffs, setting the bottle back down near his feet. “You doing okay?”

“Yeah,” Toji nods curtly, licking at his dry lips. “I’m straight.”

“Right,” his handler responds slowly, entirely unconvinced. “You’ve been skimping out on your assignments. It’s fucking me over, Fushiguro.”

Toji hasn’t taken up a job in nearly three months. Not since the night he left your place and walked home in the pouring rain. It was funny—he hadn’t thought it was a bluff when you threatened to call the police. No, Toji expected his apartment complex to be swarmed with officers when he returned but… nothing besides crickets. That night was seared into his frontal lobe, every motion engraved and vivid behind his eyes. Still soaked to the bone, he melted into the couch and stared up at his water-damaged ceiling for hours before slumber pulled him into its embrace. 

Toji hasn’t slept in his bed since. 

“Oh, so that’s why you came to visit. Boss is cuttin’ your pay with me gone.” Toji smiles bitterly, then juts his lower lip out in a mock pout. “Aww, that must be so hard for you, I’m sorry. You can cry about it on the ride home in your fucking Bentley.”

“Hey asshole, this isn’t just a me thing. Your slacking affects both our paychecks.” Shiu rakes a hand through his gelled do, and Toji is acutely aware of the luxury watch glinting on his wrist. “I mean, shit, where have you even been getting your cash from lately? How have you been keepin’ the lights on in this shithole?”

That last question is a mystery to Toji, as well. Truth is, he hasn’t put a penny towards rent since he came back. Eviction was inevitable, he’d ride out the days he had left and then figure out what to do when he received his week’s notice. Only that pink slip of paper never appeared taped to his door. Surely, you weren’t still covering it… Not with the way you and him ended terms so roughly… But what the fuck else could it be? Toji wanted to ask you about it; wanted to use this entire situation as an excuse to contact you, but he couldn’t muster up the courage and resolve. Talking to you again sounded so fucking sweet, but so, so fucking painful. 

Toji didn’t answer, and Shiu grimaced at his quietness. On the couch, Shiu shifted uncomfortably, leaning forward to rest his elbows over his thighs. “You’re not,” he struggles for a moment to find the words, squinted eyes drilling holes into Toji’s. “Tell me you ain’t whoring again.”

Sex was Toji’s grimiest form of escapism. He started fucking other people again. 

Mostly women, with a few men sprinkled in between. Gender was irrelevant; genitalia didn’t matter much to him in the grand scheme of things, Toji only fucked casually for the sensation of a warm body to hold onto. Vying for satisfaction with a partner, competing for release; it became a damn near nightly procedure at this point. Scouring bars in the dark hours for any willing participant, then fucking one out in the filth of the public restroom. His sweaty back against the stall, or him seated on the lid of a toilet. It was gross, he was gross. 

Again, Toji is silent, and it speaks volumes. “God, man.” Shiu holds his face, pinching his brow bone, maneuvering the muscles in his jaw. He doesn’t sound angry or annoyed, just disappointed, and it makes Toji feel unnaturally immature; like he were a child again, getting a scolding from the family’s housekeeper for accidentally knocking the vase at the center of his dining table over and shattering it on the ground. “That’s—you can’t be doing this again.”

“Yeah well I don’t exactly got the resume for a nine to five, now do I?” He was forever tainted by his past. No employer in the country would hire a man with four jail sentences, drug misdemeanors, battery charges, no education, no work experience… the list of Toji’s fuck ups could fill a dictionary front to back. 

“You cannot go back to that.” Shiu looks pale in the face. I’m making him sick to his stomach. 

“Money is money. Don’t hear you whining when you got me playing assassin for you, but God forbid I suck a coupla’ cocks for cash.” Toji pushes off the wall and stalks towards the tiny kitchenette on the far side of this cramped living space; this conversation is irritating him, he needs something to quell his cotton mouth. “Fix your morals, then we can talk.”

Shiu’s argument was mind numbingly idiotic. Comparing slaughter to sex for money, the absurdity nearly made Toji burst out laughing. Sex never killed anyone. 

He’s rooting around in the fridge. It’s practically bare, housing nothing more than a few take out boxes and some lager, but that’s alright. Toji tears a can of beer from the plastic six-pack ring, and when he pops out from the refrigerator, Shiu stands there with his hip against the small counter. “You’re self-destructing.”

The can cracks open. Beer carbonation pops and hisses. “Am I?” Toji sniggers, tossing back a swig. Shiu’s eyes flit to the beverage, nose wrinkling. Toji catches on and nods to the kitchen sink. It’s full of dirty dishes. “Faucet’s fucked. Water’s full of lead. This is the only drink in the house and I’m thirsty, so hop off.”

“You’re self-destructing,” Shiu repeats once more, not matching Toji’s humorous lilt. “I’m serious, Fushiguro. You’re off.”

“What do you want me to say to that besides fuck you?”

It grows quiet again. The air is warm and thick and rife with apprehension; it presses on Toji’s chest like a sleeping cat. “So what?” Finally, Shiu speaks. “That’s it?”

He shakes his head contentedly. “That’s it.”

“You understand this is going to be Hell for me from now on. You’re the best hired gun on my roster, the boss is gonna have my ass if you quit.” 

Toji takes a long sip of beer. “You’re tough. You can handle it.”

“You’re such an asshole,” Shiu breathes, but there’s no real malice behind his words. “If you’re really serious about quitting, then fine. Fucking fine, I’ll—” He groans, massaging his temple, “I’ll handle it. But I’m telling you, this is the best it gets for guys like us.”

The best it gets is killing men. Leaving wives widowed, leaving kids fatherless. “Can’t be.” Toji feels nauseous at the thought. “There’s gotta be more.” There has to be. It’s the only affirmation that stops him from knocking back the whole bottle of vicodin in his bathroom medicine cabinet and calling it a night. 

“This is how the world works. This is us being punished for being shitty people.” 

Toji doesn’t have anything to say to that. He refuses to acknowledge it. 

Shiu rubs at his nape, pushing off the counter. “Look, I only dropped by to get on your ass for playing hooky, wasn’t exactly expecting… all of this. But, uh,” despite their expansive acquaintanceship with one another, they never really got a hang of the whole sentimental bit. Shiu tries for a moment, mouth opening and closing a few times as the words die on his tongue, before finally settling on a long exhale through the nostrils. He tucks his hands into the pockets of his slacks, squaring his shoulders. “Just stay safe, would ya?”

Toji salutes lazily. “Aye aye.”

Shiu ducks his head in a wide nod. “Good, good. And uh, you got my number. So use it if you need to.”

Toji can tell that Shiu is trying to dole out formalities in the most unconventional way possible, so he helps him out by chuckling. “Get the fuck outta my house already.” Then, he drains the last few ounces from his can before crushing the aluminum in his fist, tossing the litter carelessly to the floor. He’ll get it later. Or not. Probably not. 

“Yeah, okay.”

The hotel room is pitch black, not even the moonlight reaches through the window. Toji stumbles through the door first, dragging another person in by the waist. He kicks it shut with the heel of his boot. A woman—mid 20’s, pretty, about two heads shorter than Toji so he’s forced to crane his neck uncomfortably low when they kiss. Some random he found off an anonymous hookup app he downloaded, a consenting body three miles away for him to use. They coordinated a time and place—midnight at this shitty motel—which brings us to the present. 

“Wait—” She struggles to speak in between wet kisses, patting Toji's bicep. “Wh—get the lights.”

He shakes his head. “Leave them off.”

Humidity stickied the air, clinging to his skin alongside sweat. He was coming down from something—some upper he popped hours prior to this—and because of that, a thin tremble rattled in his bones gliding through marrow. It’s so hot. He’s hot everywhere. It almost hurts, the heat.  

She doesn’t put up much of an argument and takes his bruteness like a champ. Let’s him hoist her up and jerk her onto the stiff motel mattress, its blankets coughing a plume of dust into the atmosphere when their weights fell upon it. The scratchy comforter reeked of mildew and clawed back at the jagged callouses sitting in the divots of Toji’s weathered fingers when he grabbed handfuls of bedding. 

He finds himself drafting comparisons in the moment, as he often did. Comparing his present to a better time; when he wasn’t slutting himself out to strangers for a fix of warmth or money, in this case the former. Your bed—God, no not tonight, he shouldn’t be devoting another night to you—smelled of a sweet concoction; your perfume, your laundry detergent, your shampoo, just you. There was no catching or pulling at his marred hands when he clawed at your bedsheets, no, the satin was gentle on his most rough parts. 

“How do you want me?”

Toji blinked in succession, snapping back to cold reality. It was easy to lose himself in his delusions, muddying the lines between his dreamscape and actuality. Maybe the liquor finally seeped into his brain and this was neurosis’s way of knocking at the door. What a hilarious thing to think about. Toji slips a hand beneath her back and maneuvers the smaller body himself. 

“Hands and knees.” He doesn’t want to look at her face.

Neither of them had even bothered to undress—this truly lacked all semblance of intimacy. Hands reach behind herself to inch suffocating denim down past the shelf of her ass, Toji thumbs down his own waistband just past the half-mast erection he sported. Everything felt robotic, it was a wonder he could even get hard in such a lifeless domain. 

“You brought a con—” 

“Yes,” he responds pointedly, eager for the talking to cease. He didn’t care to hear the whispers of a strange woman asking about whether or not he had protection on him. Of course, he had one. It goes quiet again. In the dark, dank air Toji kneels behind a wet, willing hole and yet all he can think of is you when he stroked himself to total hardness. 

“Are you kidding me?” You gawked at him, disbelief evident in the obtuse look you gave him. He was splayed out on your kitchen tiles, ducked back beneath the sink, working at the drain pipe with a rubber-gripped wrench. His ass ached from sitting on hard floors for too long, back groaned under the pressure of being bent backwards, neck stiff and knotted thanks to the awkward tilt he was forced to wear, but seeing the awe scribbled on your face made the pain dull. “I had two handymen take a look, neither of them could find the issue. But you just knew exactly what to do.”

He had to laugh at the ridiculousness. “You’ve just got yourself a fucked supply line. Ain’t rocket science, I’ll get you right.” Toji slips out from the cupboard, looking up from the floor through pin straight bangs. Scratching a brow with his thumb nail, “you hired a couple of idiots.”

You retort in a groan, unable to thrum up a defense. “I’m the real idiot, I suppose. You think they were just trying to scam me or what?”

“Probably.” Back under the sink he goes, wedging the wrench around the circumference of the pipe. Toji’s forearm tenses with each crank of the tool, and he doesn’t stop until the bolt is fastened as tight as his strength can manage. “Doesn’t matter. I’m here.”

Though he can’t see your face at the moment, Toji hears your sheepish smile wrapping around each word. “My hero.” The sarcasm was eminent, tongue-in-cheek and you nudged his foot with your own. He kicks you back, heel to your bony ankle. “Hey!” You’re laughing now. 

“Don’t get smart.” The drain pipe is secure, and he’s satisfied with his labor. Toji pulls himself to his feet, flicking the stainless steel lever on the sink’s tap with a knuckle. Crystal clear water flows out evenly from the faucet, collecting in a puddle at the basin, swirling down the drain. “Watch, look,” Toji points with his toe to the pipe under the cabinet, and he can’t quell the lofty smirk that tugs at scarred lips when there is no leakage. A successful repair; you look astonished for lack of a better word, and it gives the man a strange swell of pride hanging in his belly. 

He did that. He was useful to you in a way he hadn’t been useful to anyone in a long while. He didn’t have to kill, didn’t have to fuck; fixing a leaky kitchen sink seemed beyond good enough for you. Foolish.

“I’m impressed.” You turn to him. “Thank you, Toji.”

You blathered on some more, speaking such things of how generous you planned on being in return. Something about money in exchange for the service, but Toji wasn’t really listening past your declaration of gratitude. It was just straightforward plumbing work of the most basic level, and yet you thanked him like he hung the stars in the sky.

“Sure. It was no problem.” And he smiled back. 

That did it. He’s stiff, cock cradled in his fist with nothing less than a bruising grip. The condom was pre-lubricated and slick with odorless oil. Toji went through the practiced motions—hooking the ringed entrance over himself, pinching the tip of the condom, rolling it down to sheath every inch. 

“Oh,” she gasped, lurching forward at the feeling of Toji’s head sliding up and down between her legs. Between her folds. She’s wet for him. Hips whined back into his groin with avidity. “Put it in.”

He slaps her with an open palm, connecting with an asscheek. She moans again and reaches back to paw at Toji’s navel with blunt nails. Free from any of that fancy acrylic stuff. 

This time around was torturously similar to every other fuck he’s had in recent date. Everything is fast-paced and unforgiving, leaving not much room for anything else. Toji fucks to forget. He fucks to remember, too. 

“Y/n,” he groans shamelessly. There’s a muffled reply, but it’s murky and muffled and unable to be understood because Toji had taken the humble liberty of holding his conquest’s face into the flat, fluffless pillow. He doesn’t care for a response, to be corrected or called a piece of shit for being so inconsiderate as to not remember her name. It was Mandy, he wants to say. Maybe Maddy? Who gives a fuck. 

“That’s rude, you know.”

Toji pouts theatrically, forcing his bottom lip out in a way that has you playfully rolling your eyes. In his hand, a bundled ball of blanket that he’d stolen from you and hoarded to his side of the sofa. “Aww, I’m sorry.”

You sigh, throwing him a scathing glance. “No, you’re not.”

Movie night, or so you said. Sitting in the lonesome of your quiet penthouse just the two of you, watching some new finance documentary that just dropped on Netflix. It sounded absurdly boring to Toji, but you’d been keen on hyping it up all week long, offering him an invitation to view it together. Really, Toji couldn’t give a shit about a bunch of old guys talking crypto-bullshit for two hours straight—but it’s not like that’s what was really going to happen anyway. Toji had convinced himself this was all a ploy to snake your way into his pants at last. Naturally, he accepted your invitation. 

“Just gonna have to sit closer then,” Toji posed gruffly, eyeing down the gap between your bodies on the couch. Sitting at opposite ends like a couple of children who still believed cooties was a prevalent issue. He nods toward you,“come on.”

“You’re terrible.” Despite that, you scoot closer, invading his bubble of personal space and snatching your half of the blanket back. Focused on the Netflix explore page, tongue poked out between two rows of teeth as you enter the title of the documentary into the search bar, you miss the way Toji observes you. Watching. Waiting. 

And waiting. 

And waiting. 

For what? Who knows. Maybe Toji prepares himself  for the inevitable moment when you slip a hand beneath the blanket and drift over to his thigh. Ready for that familiar squeeze at his crotch, the same tango so many other curious hands have danced in the past. But he’d let you proceed without any qualms. He’d encourage you. 

“You’re bored, huh?” You chuckled halfheartedly midway through the film, pressing pause. Bored didn’t even begin to describe his pure disinterest. 

Toji shrugs. “Maybe.” His arm rests on the back ledge of the couch, not quite around you, but so close that it might as well be. He shifts, touches his right thigh to your left one, and tilts his chin down. “Listening to a bunch of rich fucks whine about the stock market doesn’t exactly captivate me.”

Frowning, “that’s only surface level. The audience is supposed to infer—” Fake snoring cuts you off. Toji rolls his eyes shut, hanging his jaw to fake the most obnoxious slumber. His head lolls onto your shoulder. You don’t shy away from the physical contact. “You’re not funny.” He begs to differ, what with the way nasally snorts crack from your sinuses. The shoulder he presses his cheek to stutters with stifled dissipation.

“Stop movin’.” Toji nuzzles closer, facetiously dumping body weight against you if not for anything other than to hear the struggle squeeze at your throat when you wrestle to keep upright. “I’m comfy like this.”

“You’re never this affectionate.” 

He’s not usually. But Toji’s hellbent on his premonitions. You want him. Everyone wants him. It’s been months of banter, months of getting spoiled by financial stability. You give him everything. You take nothing. His nose caresses the junction where shoulder and neck meet. Why won’t you just let him fucking give you something? You swallow hard. “Toji.”

“I constantly feel like I owe you. Like I got dues to pay.”

“Do I… make you feel that way?”

“All the fucking time.” It swelters beneath the blanket you share, and sweat starts to collect at the creases behind Toji’s knees. Bathing in the shared body heat, letting the convection hug his hips. He sighs, backtracking. “I know you got good intentions, ‘s what you keep telling me. And I like it, the way you reassure me. It’s… reassuring.” He titters into your neck, blinking slowly. 

“Then why do you keep doing this?” A ginger hand graces the rear of his skull, not forcing him closer, but not tugging him away either. It just sits there, scritching as calm as your voice. 

“Don’t know.”

This wasn’t the first time Toji succumbed to that shrill, little whisper in his head, the one that told him to spontaneously initiate closeness. It feels like common knowledge by now; to reciprocate in kind to any form of benevolence like a trained dog, because that was the expectation of him. To get on his knees and worship until bruises hammered into his joints and the hinges of his jaw grew sore from overuse. This transaction is familiar. It brings him a twisted sense of comfort, and you ripped it away. For better or for worse, Toji had yet to conclude.

“It’s like muscle memory.” That was the best way to describe it. Toji ached to give you the pleasure that felt long overdue in this affair. To offer some sort of repayment in the only way he knew how. Lips ghost over porcelain flesh—he’s never been so tempted in his life. Sex had always been the most exhausting and emotionally depleting aspect when he dealt with these kinds of unconventional financial relationships, but now as he unfurls his candied tongue and laves a stretch from collar to jawline, Toji has never wanted to be inside of someone more. Deft fingers were quick to pull him back by the scruff.

You studied Toji with unreadable eyes. He stares back, wiping excess saliva from his fatty lower lip with a thumb. 

“I don’t want this for us,” you speak up finally, meandering eyes roaming around his facial features. You look at his lips, then his nose, then between his eyes. “Are you listening? I’ll write it on my fucking forehead if that’s what it takes for you to understand.”

“What if I want it?” Toji breathes.

You’re shaking your head. “You don’t.”

Who the fuck are you to decide what he does or doesn’t want? And how fucking dare you be right about it. Because in all this build up—the panting, the heat, the licking—Toji hadn’t so much as twitched down there. It’s like his mind and body were completely detached, separate entities trying to cohesively navigate through an avalanche of generational trauma. Trying and failing miserably. He palms himself to confirm his limp appendage. 

“Fuck.” A bucket of ice water dumped over his head, washing away the illusion of lust and leaving behind reality in its wake. What the fuck am I doing? “I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too.” Toji doesn’t really understand what you’re apologizing for. You’ve got no need to feel sorry when he was the one who threw himself at you so abruptly. But he doesn’t ask, either. It felt eerily nice to be on the receiving end of an ‘I’m sorry.’ 

You still hold his nape. The film is long forgotten at this point, set on the backburner, and dimmed with the Are you still watching? notification blanketing the screen. 

“Your movie.” Toji cocks his head, beckoning towards the gigantic television pinned to the wall all without tearing his eyes from yours. “Press play.”

This has the beginnings of a coy smirk straining your lips. “I thought it was boring you?”

He shrugs. “It’s not so bad.”

And so you resumed the documentary, if not for anything other than to dissolve the serious tension that palpated in the air. You didn’t force Toji to explain himself, you didn’t hound him for answers about his hypersexuality. You didn’t distance yourself, you didn’t act appalled when his thigh brushed yours again. You didn’t pity him, you didn’t treat him like a child. But you did stroke his neck. You continued to laugh with him. You let him fall asleep on you that night and didn’t wake him ‘till morning. 

You let him trust.

His orgasm doesn’t have any anticipation. It crashes down on him all at once, splitting down the notches of his spine and sending bouts of electricity zapping down to his curled toes, still encased in thick, mud soaked boots. She cries below, contorting in the direction of the pleasure, but Toji holds her down while he fills the rubber.

It’s unsatisfying. 

“Oh my fuck—” The woman pants on her come down, trembling around him. She clearly enjoyed herself, giggling stupidly into the pillow now sopping with drool and tears. Toji pulls out with little grace, sneering at the viscous mess of bodily fluids slicking up his navel. Proficient fingers work the sticky condom off, tying the end in a balloon knot.

It’s gross.

He folds, dropping onto the bed beside her. Sweat glues bangs to his forehead. His chest rises, then falls, then rises again with exertion. Sleep threatens to rear itself, weighing down his eyelids.

It’s tiring.

The body beside him stirs, rolling on her side. “How was it?”

“Good,” he lies through his teeth for the sake of sparing feelings. She smiles, feeling over his chest. 

“It was good for me, too,” she tells him like he asked. “Really good. Oh, also my name’s Maria by the way, not Y/n.” Maria chuckles like it was just a silly mix up. 

She drags him into mindless, post-sex banter. Rambling on about workplace drama, about her two pet cats and about her shity landlord. Mindless rattling that falls on Toji’s deaf ears; he’s disassociated, lying face-up on the terribly hard bed, fixated on the grime weighing down his lap. When an opening arises, Toji hauls himself up and claims the shower.

An intense wave of queasiness materializes in the centerpoint of Toji’s stomach when he closes himself in behind the bathroom door. The aftermath always felt this awful—bitter and lonely and degrading. Toji takes a moment to just be, perching on the lid of the toilet with his head in his hands, swallowing down sickness lest he subject Maria to a concert of his disgusting gags if he retches into the bowl. 

When Toji stands to fiddle with the shower handle, he becomes hyper aware of the weight in his sweatpants. There’s an awkward sag in the fabric, bunching around the object that sits heavy in his front pocket. His cellphone—he never bothered to remove it. Giving a sniffle to the air, Toji fishes out the device and taps the screen with little interest.

Oh.

He looks away. Looks at the sink, then the wall, then the glass door of the shower cubicle. Then back at his screen. Back at the very real notification that sits there idly, begging to be clicked.

Toji’s heart races at a perilous speed, something lethal for an old man like himself. He can feel the beat rumble his insides, blending everything up like a bloody smoothie. 

Yielding, he clicks.

likes and reblogs are appreciated !

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[trashmouth-richie]

eddie x reader

a follow up to this prompt by @rebelfell

2.6k

tw: angst, smut, minors fuck off pls teasing? is that a trigger idk.

“we need to talk.” the conversation we’ve been waiting for after you catch your best friend getting head finally unfolds

“We need to talk.”

Your blood ran cold, ice in your veins it was practically prickling your skin. The heat on your cheeks bloomed and your gut quaked at the sight of him, covered. 

Play dumb! It’ll work! 

“I , m-mean, now?— like right now? You have cum- company! a guest— we can talk later, yeah?” 

The stuttering, calmly hands and the sweat gathered under your arms— you were a one woman walking circus, missing the clown nose.  

“Why are you being so weird?” He leans into your doorframe, tattooed arms cross over his broad and glistening chest. 

The flush still in his cheeks almost brought you to your knees, but it was the single flick of his tongue on his lips that had you melting and wishing he had licked your lips instead. Fuck.

“… besides, you already interrupted my guest, so she left—”

Your ears perk up at the mention of said whore leaving your apartment, and your eyelashes bat open, “she left? Why?” 

Eddie huffs and puts his tongue in his cheek like he can’t believe you’re being so stupid. 

“Cut the shit, okay? Will you just be an adult for a second?” 

The smile on your lips falls and you take a step back towards your bed setting your keys down on the nightstand. The silence is anything but quiet. The energy was chaotic and shooting like daggers much like Eddie’s eyes into yours.

“Well?” he asks dramatically, raising his eyebrows to try to get you to speak.  

Play dumb— it’s working! 

“Well what?” you muse innocently. 

“What the fuck was that?” Eddie spits, any softness he brought into this situation had fizzled—dead at the door. 

“I—”

“Forget how to knock?” 

“No—”

“Suuuure, you just thought you’d what? Barge in, ignoring our code?” 

“I didn’t—-there was no hot water! You forgot to pay the water bill!”

“That’s not how water bills work.”

You stand stunned— mouth open to argue but nothing will even come out.

“It’s the water heater for this shitheap building that’s out— if you don’t believe that I paid the bill—call the water company yourself.” 

“…oh.” your voice is small, quiet almost unheard. 

“Wow, really great apology.” 

“Oh relax! Just call her back and explain it was a mistake, who cares? She shouldn’t be so uptight.” 

Eddie is fuming, blood rushing to his head as he tries not to yell out right. But fuck you were being so difficult.

“Ya know… I didn’t say shit when you had Harrington tied to your bed posts and you couldn’t undo the knots— did I? Nope—not a fucking word, I just cut him loose and acted like nothing ever happened!”

You wince, who knew knots were that hard to unlace?

“That was different!” 

“Or the multiple times I caught the fuckin’ Chief slipping out of your room at 5 AM? I even bummed him a cigarette for his morning coffee!” 

Your jaw hung to the floor, you didn’t know Eddie had any idea that you’d been sleeping with Hopper. 

“So? What—we’re just airing out dirty laundry now?” you could be venomous too, your rattle sounding off ready to strike. 

“How many months did you try gettin’ into Mary’s pants before you dumped her because she’s married to Jesus Christ her Lord & Savior? Her name is Mary for fucks sake! Not hard!”

His face pulls to anger, “don’t be a bitch!” 

“And where’s Gareth? Never see him around anymore, maybe it’s because you ran over his d—.” 

“That was an accident! I honked and he never moved!” 

“He was deaf Eddie!” you yell back into his face, “or! How about the time I had to pick you up from the Hideout because you got so drunk you pissed your pants?” 

“That was YOU!” 

The two of you were standing nose to nose, shouting accusing each other of shit that didn’t even matter. Eddie had your back and you’d have his until the end. Cradle to the grave. 

But this was different, you weren’t fighting like siblings or friends, you were both screaming as if you were in pain. 

He’s the first to move, shaking his head and turning towards the door. when he speaks his voice is low, angry.

“When my door is shut don’t open it—turn your ass around and fuck off, got it?” 

His words split your skin, vining through your body like sharp thorns. The hot spill of tears were welling in your eyes. 

“Sorry to bother you, asshole— won’t happen again.”

He’s on the opposite side when you slam your door in his face. The rain brewed and stewed and finally was ready to fall from the clouds in your eyes. 

Why were you acting like this? 

Grabbing your keys you set to leave again, needing an escape so he couldn’t hear your wailing cries. But again— when you opened the door, he was still standing there, only this time he looked pissed. 

“Move.”

He brushes you off as if he didn’t even hear you, “enough.”

“Eddie, get out of the way!” 

“Do you know how many nights I listened to you fake it for this fuckheads?” How long 

I’ve waited for you to admit it?” 

He shuts your door behind him as he pushes his way inside. 

“Admit what?”

“C’mon, baby— we haven’t been friends for a long time, not really.” 

You’re confused and on the verge of tears, “what?!”

Eddie presses forward, head tilted down at you.

 “Those douchebags you bring here can’t handle you the way I know you need…coming home to see their boots by the front door makes me absolutely despise you.”

“Who gives a shit? I trip over skanky high heels sometimes too.”

You were missing the point he was trying to make, way over your head. 

“Never satisfied when they leave…that little vibrator in the top drawer is not as quiet as you think it is.”

You were throbbing, aching… how did he know? 

He inches forward, and you double back towards the door.

“I—”

“Pretty little moans on your lips just minutes after they leave…‘m not stupid sweetheart, I know you do it on purpose— parading around the apartment in your little shorts, never wearing a bra… you’re a tease.” 

He wasn’t right. He couldn’t be! Right?

“I hate you, Eddie.” 

He stalks forward like a predator eyeing its prey, a stupid smirk on his face. 

“No— No I don’t think you do. I think you’re so fucking wound up about me, jealous... It’s alright, I get it. I bury myself in bitches so you’ll get out of my head.”

He takes a ragged breath, his eyes pitch dark, and your back hits the door, he closes in around you, his arms on either side of your head. 

“I fucking hate you, princess. I hate that it doesn’t work.. you’ve made me jealous for too fucking long.”

Your body was screaming, angel and devil on your shoulder dancing and holding hands rooting you on. 

“H-how long?”

His hand falls to your chin, pulling down your bottom lip.

“Senior year. Hellfire. You laughed at one of Jeff’s stupid fucking jokes and my blood ran cold. I wanted you to look at me like you looked at him. That was just the first time I realized I wanted you.”

You shudder, fingers running along his chest, playing with the chain on his neck, “why not say anything?”

“Didn’t wanna ruin this.” 

His lips nearly touch yours, he’s leaning in so close. And you don’t pull away. 

“I think it’s pretty clear that our friendship is over, Eddie. I fucking hate you.” 

“I hate you, too sweetheart.” 

The tension is thick, spinning with bated breath and sexual desire. 

“So, we hate each other?”

“Yep.” Eddie muses, angling your chin so he can see your neck. 

“…and we aren’t friends?” 

He nods silently, pressing his nose to your cheek, “seems to be that way.” 

“You’ve ruined everything.”

“Good,” he all but whispers into your ear. 

“..a perfectly good pair of underwear.” 

His breath hitches in his throat, and he licks his lips. “Can’t have that.” 

“No, not at all,” you tease, thumbing at your waistband and letting your shorts hit the floor.

He steps back to examine you with wide eyes, letting them narrow as he bites his lip, looking you dead in the eyes. 

“I’m gonna fuck you exactly how you need to be fucked.” 

Pulling him back into you by his chain necklace you ask centimeters from his lips, tasting the heat from his mouth, “what are you waiting for?” 

He takes a deep breath, hovering his mouth over yours, “nothing, not anymore.”

His tongue hits you first, electric like an eel on your lips, his breath hot as fire. You moan out when his hands grip your ass, pulling you into him with such force you could have toppled over. 

Eddie is loud too. Groaning with each swipe of your tongue against his. 

“Fuck, I’ve wanted you for so long, baby.” 

His dick is pressed into your middle, hard and kicking up as your hands reach into his hair, pulling you closer to him as if he were a rope and you were climbing a mountain. 

He pulls you away from the door to get a quick slap to your ass. Rough and hard and you’re mewling, his rings stinging your skin. 

Your lips close to his ear you whisper “Eddie… please.”

He pulls away after leaving a mark on your neck. 

“You don’t have to beg, I’ll give you whatever you need, however many times you want it, honey.”

His fingers dip into your waistband around your hips as he slides your panties down to your thighs.  “Let me see that cunt, show me what I did to you.” 

You step out of your panties and he lowers himself to the floor on bent knees. “Jesus Christ, look how pretty she is, ‘m gonna eat this pussy till you cum all over my face.” 

You nod dumbly, body on fire from his words, the lust of having his hands touch you in places he never had, places you dreamt he would, has your mind spinning. 

His bangs tickle your inner thighs, breath fanning on your clit, thumbs spreading you open. He sucks in a breath, whistling low.

A single flick of his tongue— that’s all it takes for your eyes to roll, for your back to bend in an arch like you were being exorcized of hell’s worst demons. Your fingernails scratching into the door trying to anchor yourself from grinding on his face until his nose broke. 

He spits, watching it drip down to your cunt, “don’t ask me to stop.” 

Diving in, his tongue is everywhere. Lapping you up, sucking your clit into his mouth. Swirling around like you would while eating an ice cream cone. Your chest heaves and your thighs tremble as he hooks one over his shoulder pressing into him and he gently pushes it back into place, his eyes never leaving your body. 

When it happens again, he shoves it down with force, nipping at one of your thighs, his lips shiny and wet he groans, “keep ‘em put.” 

The tip of his middle finger pushes into you, and you squeak out a gasp, leaning forward off the door to take a look at him, and he nearly laughs, “jesus, you’re tight sweetheart, gonna need to work you up a bit.” 

He smiles before attaching his mouth to your thigh, sucking a bruise as he fucks you with his fingers, adding a second that’s easier than the first. Your body rolls with his motions, pushing back against him and you know your orgasm is about to snap.

His tongue replaces his fingers and the heat in your stomach releases, untying the white knot and spilling over his lips as you scream out his name. 

“Thatta girl, fuck look at you, Christ.” 

Your eyes open, a strange drunk feeling taking over, as if you were high on a cloud and falling gracefully back to the earth. Opening to see the blackened eyes of the guy you’ve called your best friend for years, and if you would have known his tongue could do that, maybe you would have ruined this friendship a lot sooner.

“Fuck off Munson,” you mutter, out of breath as your foot gently sets on the ground.

“What?” he laughs.

“Just keeping the fact that you eat pussy better than the devil all to yourself huh? Selfish.”

His face splits into a grin laced with evil as he stands, licking his lips, “that’s not all I can do.” 

He’s on you in a flash, hoising you up into his arms, and using the other to hastily shove his boxers down. “Can’t go back after this.” 

“Oh this is the tipping point? Fucking is gonna ruin it not you just making going down on me?” 

He rolls his eyes as he lines himself up with you, “what happened to that sweet girl I used to chase in the trailer park, huh?” 

You reach around your legs and grab his thick cock and lightly sink down onto it the head barely pushing past your puffy lips, “fuck…met a boy who grew up and started selling weed out of his van, kind of an asshole, really big dick though.”

He thrusts up into you so hard you nearly see black, vision spotty from pleasure alone, you whine his name and he practically comes undone.

“Don’t.. shit… don’t do that, I won’t last. Those noises haunt me… been wanting to hear them.”

He holds you tight and fucks you slowly, dragging his cock at a ridiculously slow speed. Groaning when you suck him in deep, biting his neck. 

“There it is, the noise that started this whole mess.” 

He grins into you stupidly, “I’m glad you’re perverted plan worked, you little hussy.” 

His hips move faster and your both whining, accompanied by the slapping of skin on skin. “Water heaters’ been out since last week, ‘m not stupid babe, you’re the one who called and asked.” 

“Whoops— oh my goddd,” you squeal before you're panting like a dog and clawing his arms with your nails, he was splitting you wide open and you were near to tears. 

The tears finally fall when Eddie bottoms out in your cunt, filling you up, grunting your name as he rests his forehead to your shoulder— completely spent. 

His lips kiss your collar bone and you twirl a curl away from his face exhausted around his softening length. 

“Princess,” he breathes, kissing life back into himself with the sweat from your skin, “if you wanted to fuck, you should have told me sooner, could have saved us a week of cold showers, y’know?” 

You kissed his lips, letting him set you down on the bed so you could both lay back in a lazy post sex high, surrounded by your blankets. 

“Well maybe you should have fixed it sooner, you are the maintenance manager of the building.”  

Eddie grins and pins you onto the mattress, his hair falling into your face, his thumb sweeping over your cheeks to catch a rogue eyelash, “come with me to fix it?” 

“Hmm..” fingers moving his hair behind his ear, “you gonna wear that slutty stained white tank top?” 

“Slutty? Why, gonna seduce me in the boiler room?” his lips move down your neck and you whimper. 

“Maybe…” you tease tickling his underarm, “so if I wouldn’t have barged into your room… what else would you have done?” 

Eddie only smiles, thinking of his plan to “break” the air conditioner and hide your hoodies and blankets so you’d have to come to him for warmth. 

“Let’s just say, you would have ended up as my girl one way or another.” 

steve tied up in readers room

taglist: @likedovesinthewnd @dashingdeb16 @joejoequinnquinn @min-geniusx @ho3forfakeguys @taintedcigs @b-irock @queenimmadolla @serasvictoria @the-unforgivenn @curlyjoequinn @munsonlore @eiightysixbaby @munsonburn3r

[betterlifeinoverall-rethabilep]

Everyone Is A Good Singer Around Campfire

I Can Never Be Thankful Enough; I Can Never Sing Holishly Enough;Your Presence Always Offers Me Abundant Peace;A Reminder That God Is Truly Alive;A Testimony Of Faith At Work;A Reminder That Your Faith Can Turn God’s Eyes To You;A Reminder To Be A Faithful Servant On The Wait;A Reminder That He Never Left Nor Denied;Hence, It Was A Delay In Preparation Of Kingdom Diamonds For You! Like, Shares…

[riverwritez]

golfing motivation.

a/n: ok so this is a small blurb inspired by the videos of Matt golfing with the group the other night…. let’s just say girl was giggling and kicking her feet at how good he looked. Also I’m rusty at writing so be nice to me :) enjoy! (Also this is not edited-)

warnings; none… all fluff!

“Jesus Christ, Matt!” Colby said after Matt had hit the ball with his… unique style of swinging. Matt looked over at the group with a smile as he started to take his white jacket off, walking back over to the group as he set it down next to you. His green and yellow shirt now in view as he adjusted it to his body.

“It’s either really good or really bad!” Matt said as he gripped the club in his right hand as he placed it under the censor, allowing it to give him a new ball.

“Do it again, Matt.” Larry said as he brought his phone out and started to film the boy. Matt took his rings off before he looked at you, pointing his finger at you.

“If this is a good hit, you give me a kiss-“

“Bet!” You said as you leant back in your seat, watching the him as he placed the club on the left side of the ball. He sighed before swinging the club around in a circle, hitting the ball perfectly as it soared through the air, loosing sight of it quickly from how fair it went.

You got up with a sigh as you went up to him, it now being your turn, plus you had an award to give him. “I will be honest, I was praying on your downfall-“

“Oh shut up.” He said as he placed his hand on your cheek, placing his lips on yours. The kiss was quick and gentle, nothing more than a few seconds. But those few seconds got some cheers from the friends you were with.

“Oh Jesus, they’re kissing again Nick-“

“They always do that… you’re surprised?” Nick asked Chris as you laughed at the brothers as Matt flipped them off.

Taking the club from Matt, you stood on the green mat as a ball came out of the dispenser and you placed it in the middle. You had gone golfing with Matt and his family before while visiting in Boston, and had gone to top golf with them on occasion. But you never really knew how to hit the ball.

You didn’t want to ask for help, not wanting to take to long of a time so the others could have their own fun, so you just stood there, placing your hands in various different ways.

Matt was laughing at something Sam had said when he turned back towards you, placing his rings back on, as he saw you messing with the club. A small smile made its way to his face as he walked over to you, placing his hands on your wrist gently, making you jolt back in surprise.

“It’s just me, sorry for scaring you. Can I help?” Matt whispered to you as he moved closer so he had better access to your hands. You nodded in agreement as you allowed your hands and wrist to relax, letting him move them himself. “Put this one here, mhm, and that one right…. here.” he said as he placed your hands on the club that seemed fit and comfortable to swing with.

“Now just bend your legs and you’re good!” He said as he patted your waist and stepped away.

“Promise not to laugh if I miss?” You asked as you tightened your grip on the club and looked at him. You didn’t care about the others and if they laughed, you only cared about impressing your boyfriend even if you both knew that you kinda suck at golf.

“Promise baby.” Matt said as he crossed his arms and nodded at you, giving you the go ahead you didn’t know you needed. You took a deep breathe before swinging the club back and following through as a the sound of the club hitting the ball rang through the air.

“Ooo that was beautiful!” You heard Chris yell as you faced towards the open field, full of golf balls waiting to be picked up, as you watched your ball soar through the air. It wasn’t far, but it was far enough for you to throw your hands up and bounce on your feet as you made your way over to Matt.

“Did you see that?!” You exclaimed as Matt held a wide smile on his face, nodding as he opened his arms for you to fall into.

“I did, baby! That was so good!” Matt giggled as you wrapped your arms around his waist, wrapping his own around your neck, kissing the top of your head as he whispered ‘that’s my girl.’

“You have another shot, girl!” Larry said as you pointed at the screen, showing you that your name was still present on it.

“Wait…. I have to do that again?!” You asked, eyes wide as Matt laughed a bit as he nodded and everyone else giggled at your words. “I hope you guys aren’t wishing for the again, because that shit would take a miracle-“

“Or maybe just a little motivation from Matt…” Jake interrupted as he looked away from you as to direct the attention away from him.

“Don’t you dare give him that idea-“

“I quite like that! Here let me show you again babe..”

taglist; @titishq @teddysboy (if you wanna be added, you can send me an ask or dm!)

[cranberrv]

thunder

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ in which dallas winston loses his temper

( a/n : HIII im sorry if this wasnt ur vision but i dont think dallas is one for big apologies so i kinda focused on the arguement more than the apology hope that’s ok… also toxic dallas alert sorry if that isnt ur scene!! also not proofread but hope u cuties enjoy )

it was a late night in mid-summer, and you and dallas were on the porch on the curtis brothers house. he wanted to go out for a smoke, and dragged you along. you were wearing his leather jacket, it was a windy night and you were getting chilly. dallas had goosebumps along his arms.

“are you sure you don’t want it back, dal?” you ask him, insisting on giving him his jacket back.

“nah, sugar, don’t want ya freezin’ to death out here,” he answers, taking a drag of his cigarette as he looks out at the empty street.

“i’ll just go inside, though, so you don’t get hypothermia or something..” you insist, but he grabs your hand and stops you.

“you’re fine, baby, stay with me.” you look up at him and nod, squeezing his hand a bit tighter.

you stand outside for a little while longer. it feels so peaceful standing there with him. his hand that’s rough and dangerous from the punches it throws is enveloping yours in a sweet gentleness shown only with you. his cigarette smoke becoming a mock mist that calms you both down. his deep breathes that are only heard because of how quiet it is.

nothing could ruin this moment.

you felt it was a good time to say the three words. not like you hadn’t said them before — it’s been a year since you’ve started dating, and you’ve both adored each other from the very start. but dallas got funny when you told him what he already knew. tonight would be different, you thought.

“.. i love ya, dal,” you say softly after a few moments of quiet. it felt casual — exactly what he would have wanted. but maybe not casual enough, because there was a short silence following your words.

eventually, he speaks. “i know ya do, sugar.”

you sigh. why is it that he could never stand to say it back?

he catches your sigh. of course he knows what you’re sighing about — he knows you all too well. he chooses not to act on it, not to apologize, not to say anything. he doesn’t want to fight with you. he just takes a drag of his cigarette and plays innocent.

“it would be nice to know that you loved me too, dallas,” you eventually say.

“oh c’mon,” another drag of his cigarette. “you ain’t an idiot, you know i do.”

“do i? i can’t remember one time you’ve said ‘i love you’ to me,” you cross your arms and look up at him.

“this isn’t somethin’ to get pressed on, y/n, the boys are inside and the windows are open,” he puts a hand on your shoulder, trying to get you to stop talking, to pretend like you’re okay. all because he doesn’t want his friends to hear. “and i have said it, baby, you’re just forgetting or somethin’.”

“you have not, i would remember if you have,” you counter, shoving his hand off of you. “i don’t want to argue, dallas, i really don’t—“

“too damn bad, y/n, because you’re sayin’ that i don’t love you, and we both know that ain’t true,”

“then say it.”

“..what?”

“you heard me,” you say. “it has been a whole year of us dating, and you’re never ready to say that you love me,” you raise your voice to get your point across.

“christ, y/n, you’re difficult, huh?” he groans. “it ain’t a big deal, don’t go throwing a tantrum.”

“i’m difficult? dallas, i don’t know if you get how a relationship works, but at this point, you either love me, or you’re done with me. there is no middle ground after this long together.”

“you’re fuckin’ crazy, i know how a relationship works, and i ain’t done with you. don’t go stickin’ words in my mouth,” his voice is raising, too.

“if you’re not done with me, then you love me.” you say, in a desperate attempt to get him to say the three words. you almost want to beg. “it hurts, dallas, that i don’t get that reassurance, that i leave our dates with my words hanging in the air, waiting for a reply,”

he groans. “you know that i do, so what’s the fuckin’ point?”

“you’re unbelievable.”

he scoffs, his voice raising. not quite yelling, but definitely not talking. “holy fuck, you know that i love you, man, so quit bein’ such a bitch!”

the crease in your eyebrow drops as he says that. “don’t call me that,”

“c’mon, man, you’re acting like a fuckin’ lunatic trying to get me to admit somethin’ that i’ve already admitted,” he says, voice still raised. “take a deep breath, maybe get a glass of water, and come back to me once you’re normal again.”

you scoff. “because i’m expressing my feelings, suddenly i’m a lunatic? because i’m not like your old girls, and i actually strive for a healthy relationship, i’m not normal?”

“you’re freakin’ out because i didn’t say it back once, of course i think you’re going crazy.”

“i’m ‘freaking out’ because it’s been a year of ‘thank you’ and ‘i know’ whenever i tell you i love you,”

“you’re being a dumbass, y/n, you know i—“ he cuts himself off, sighing and taking a step back. “fine, man, whatever, you win. go inside and call bucks when you’ve cooled off, i’m goin’ home,”

when he walks past you, the air is thick and unwelcoming. you don’t even bother getting the last word, dreading the fact that he might turn back and lose his shit if you do. he mutters something incoherent under his breath, and walks down the creeky front porch steps, into the dead of night.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

of course, you don’t call bucks. why would you? just so buck can tell you that dallas isn’t there, when in reality he just doesn’t want to talk to you? just so suddenly you’re bending to his will, and he’s getting his way once again? you don’t think so.

dallas does this a lot — whenver you two fight, even if it’s a small one, he needs time to cool off. sometimes it’s a couple hours, sometimes it’s a day. it’s never stretched longer, until now. it’s been three torturous days of waiting for a grand gesture, an apology, anything.

the next day at school, you’re walking through the parking lot during your lunch break, talking to cherry valance and marcia about what happened between you and dallas. they say a lot of “told you so” and “that’s dallas for you”, and you can’t say they’re wrong. they warned you about him, and his reputation for being so short-tempered and stubborn.

the sound of an engine roars behind you, and you and your friends turn your heads to see who is making the noise. it’s a 1957 red thunderbird, you recognize it as buck merrill’s.

“that must be dal’s friend, buck,” you whisper to your friends. “but why would buck be here?”

“he’s a greaser, he’s probably like, 5 grades behind and coming here begging for another shot at graduation,” randy, marcia’s boyfriend, teases. you shoot him a glare, and he shuts up.

“i’ll go see whats up,” you say softly, walking over to the now-parked car.

as you walk over and the window rolls down. it is not buck merrill, like you expected, but it’s dallas winston.

“hi,” you say softly, your walls starting to go up but hesitating, wondering if you’re even still fighting.

“hey, sweetie,” he says, not explaining what he’s doing here.

“what’re doing?” you ask him.

he shrugs. “wanted to see you, i dunno.”

“oh,” you say softly. you hoped for an apology, you hoped for flowers, you hoped for chocolate, you hoped for a hug, you hoped for—

“i shouldn’t of gotten all heated when we talked, it wasn’t cool,” he says, interrupting your thoughts. “and you ain’t a bitch.”

“..thanks.” you say after a few seconds of silence. what a shit apology, you think.

he’s staring out into the parking lot instead of you. “and i’m crazy about you, man,” he looks up at you. “you gotta know that, sugar.”

“thank you,” you repeat again, unsure of what to say.

another beat of silence as he swallows in his throat, before speaking and finally looking over at you. “i love ya, doll,”

you should’ve stayed mad, you should’ve not accepted his awful apology, but you cannot hide the smile tugging at your lips. this is all you’ve asked for from him, and he finally has the courage to admit it.

“i love you too, dallas.” you say softly, leaning into the window and giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. “thank you,”

“you gotta stop sayin’ that, y/n,” he teases, playfully pushing you away. “go hang out with your stupid friends, man. i’ll come over tonight and hang.”

you nod, and walk away, looking back at him and seeing a small smile on his face. nothing could ruin this moment.

[myeuphoricmindset]

Let me remind you

(middle photo credit: @eddiemunsons-missingnipple )

Paring | Eddie Munson x fem!blind reader

Summary | Reader is blind and Eddie is utterly obsessed with you, going out of his way to play you music and read to you. It’s simply a friendship, but he can’t stop himself from crossing the line.

Notes/tags | That’s correct, the reader is blind. I do not mean to write this in any way that would be insensitive; I just loved the idea of seeing Eddie care for someone who has a disability. The way he would be so sweet and go above and beyond. If this fic rubs anyone the wrong way or makes anyone uncomfortable, please let me know, and I’ll remove it. My intentions are pure. It’s a very sweet fic with the vibes of what it feels like to be young and in love. — No smut, but there is making out, and it feels very sensual. Also, cheesy AF.

I do switch back and forth with povs, don’t expect this to go by the writers rules.

— Oh, I listened to Ceilings by Lizzy McAlpine while writing this. But what’s new? I always write Eddie fics to that song, even years later.

Word count | 2.1k

Eddie always met you outside. He waits on his porch, finishing his cigarette, and the moment he sees you approaching, he gets up quickly to close the distance, taking your hand to guide you to his place. He loves the excuse to touch you. He’s not greedy either; just your hand in his makes him secretly giddy. He’s focused on it the whole way to his room, even though he’s talking your ear off about a new song he wrote.

Nothing about this is new or different. Eddie inviting you over to play music and talk well into the night has become normal. A friendship that never crosses the line, but Jesus Christ, he thinks of crossing the line all the time. He wonders if your touch would feel different if it was reaching out with love instead of friendship. He doesn’t dare feed into his thoughts of how your kiss would feel and if his name would sound different if you moaned it into his ear.

He admires you as he strums his guitar, only half-focused on the song. By now he’s memorized every curve of your face and has counted every lash on your eyes. It feels wrong to stare, knowing he can’t be caught. Can you feel his gaze?

You’re lying in your usual spot on his bed, surrounded by his scent in the sheets. You try to hide the deep inhales you take as if it were the last time you’d be here. But, it’s not. You’ll be back tomorrow, as you always are.

He plays beautifully, and you try not to smile because he plays softer for you than he does during his shows. Is he nervous to scare you off? He never could.

“I love it,” you say as he finishes the song.

He smiles, and you know because it’s laced with his voice, “You do?”

The sound of his guitar being placed on the wall mount is familiar, followed by the radio on his dresser being turned on. It’s only for background noise. Eddie hates silence, and you can’t help but wonder if he just doesn’t like to sit with his thoughts.

You both lie on his bed in deep conversation with no sense of time. Eddie lazily plays with small strands of your hair with the hand draped behind his head. Does he realize that you notice every time he does it? It makes your stomach flutter.

“Read to me?” you ask as you shift onto your stomach, feet rising up behind you.

Eddie takes a moment to speak, but you hear his breath hitch, and when he does speak, his breath is warm against your face. He shouldn’t be surprised by your question as he reads to you every night, but maybe it’s the way you’re closer to him than before.

Your bodies aren’t touching, but there is a sense of intimacy with the way he’s lying on his back, most likely looking up at you, and the way you’re on your stomach, nearly looming over him.

Unsure if he’s uncomfortable by the way his breathing becomes uneven, you reach over to the nightstand and grab your water, trying to make it seem like you’re giving him a little space. When you return to your position, you’re a few inches away from him.

You realize you were wrong about him feeling uncomfortable because when Eddie grabs The Return of the King off his dresser, he returns to the bed even closer than before.

His arm touches yours as he lies back on the bed, and you can’t take your mind off of it. It gently moves against yours as he turns the page.

“Now, where were we?” he says as the sound of pages turning fills the room. “Aha, here it is.” His smile is audible in his words. “You’ll like this part.”

Eddie begins to read. His voice is like honey, sweet and soothing to your ears. He makes you giggle occasionally with his exaggerated voices for certain characters. His laughter matches your own, and even though he’s read this book a hundred times, it feels like he’s experiencing it for the first time with you.

As he continues, there’s a subtle change in his tone that you can’t quite place until you listen closely to the words. Two characters in the book kiss, and the way Eddie reads the description makes your stomach flutter more than the romance he’s narrating. You feel your cheeks heat up and lower your head to your arms to hide it.

Eddie chuckles softly, saying your name, “Are you blushing?”

“No!”

You bury your face deeper into your arms, breathing in his scent from the sheets. You would give anything to sink into the mattress, completely enveloped by his smell.

He calls your name again, clearly amused by your reaction. His fingers find your sides and he starts tickling you, forcing you out of hiding. You burst into laughter, trying to grab his hands to push him away, but your laughter only encourages him.

“Look at you. You’re so red you might pop,” he teases, continuing to tickle you.

“Stop,” you manage to say between fits of laughter.

You struggle to fight back, and Eddie laughs at your attempts. Your stomach begins to hurt from the laughter, your breathing becomes ragged, and your hair covers your face from the tussle.

Both of you finally give up, gasping for air. Eddie plops down beside you, the weight of his body next to yours so familiar that you long for it when you’re alone in your own bed.

“I’ve never seen you blush that hard before,” he says, amused.

You can feel his stare, which only makes you blush more. “Can you stop?” you groan, playfully shoving his arm.

“Stop what?”

“Staring at me. I can feel it.”

He scoffs, “I’m not staring at you.”

You sit up and demand his bandana. He protests in confusion, but once he understands, he relents. Sitting up directly in front of you, you lift your chin with a sense of victory.

“Because I don’t believe you, this is what I must do.”

Eddie lets out a sigh, pretending to be exasperated though he’s smiling like a fool. “If this pleases you.”

You ignore the flutter in your stomach at his words. Reaching out, your fingertips touch the corner of his mouth, feeling it curve up against your touch. His face is smooth, and you take advantage of the moment to trace your fingers across it, finding their way to his hair. He remains silent, but his breathing is slightly heavier—something only you would notice.

His hair is soft, and you resist the urge to twirl his curls around your finger. Instead, you wrap the bandana around his eyes and tie it tightly behind his head.

“Oh,” he says with surprise, followed by a chuckle. “A little tight, huh?”

“Can’t have you peeking.”

“Don’t you trust me?” he asks.

Your hands drop into your lap as you smile. “Mm, I’m still deciding.”

But that was a lie. You trusted him more than you cared to admit. There were many people you trusted to be alone with, but as you’ve spent time with him, he’s proven that you’re safe with him. The best feeling is being completely vulnerable and knowing without a doubt that the person you count on with your vulnerability handles it with care.

“So, this is what it’s like for you?” he asks softly.

“Something like that.”

The room is silent, the radio off since before he started reading the book you’ve both abandoned. The only sounds are his breathing and the soft hum of the air conditioning. But you notice the parting of his lips and the sudden, yet soft, intake of breath as if he were going to say something but decided not to.

“What is it?” you ask.

He clears his throat as if caught and takes a breath. “Can you…touch me?” You’re nearly taken back by that until he speaks up in a rushed sentence. “Uh, sorry, I —uh, I mean, my arm or face. Show me how it feels for you.”

Your heart warms at his request. And you gladly give him what he wants. Your fingers meet his face again and you admire all the softness. You trace the lines and curves, imagining if he’s as beautiful as he feels. Eddie sits there still for a while, softly breathing.

Then his hands grasp your wrists and lower them to your lap. “My turn,” he says as his fingers begin to move up your arms. Goosebumps break out over your skin, and you try your best to control your breathing, knowing he can hear if it catches in your throat.

His calloused fingers brush against your soft skin, but you don’t mind. One hand drops from your arm and takes hold of one of your hands. You fight back a smile, knowing his fingers tracing your features are close enough to feel your reaction. His hand cups your cheek, his thumb gently brushing against your cheekbone. It feels incredibly intimate, just the sound of his breathing matching yours as time seems to slow.

He breaks the silence. “You’re so beautiful.”

A smile breaks out on your face. “You can’t even see me.”

“I don’t need to. I know exactly what you look like.” His tone is serious yet soft, almost as if he’s in deep thought.

He lets go of your hand and cups your other cheek. Your face fits perfectly between his warm hands.

“Eddie…” you say, wanting to ask what he’s doing, what he’s thinking. But your words fall short as you feel his thumb brush over your bottom lip.

“Tell me you feel this.”

He doesn’t mean his gentle touch on your lips, and you know that. The electrical current between you two could light up Hawkins. He grabs one of your hands and brings it to his chest. Your breath catches at the feeling of his heart thumping wildly against your palm. It’s so strong that you think it might burst out of his chest and right into your hands.

“Yes,” you answer him.

“Tell me I can kiss you.”

Your stomach flutters so fast that you feel like you could float away. “Yes.”

There is a moment of stillness in the room, time frozen. The sound of you both breathing dulls out and you lose feeling in your cheeks at his touch as you await his lips on yours.

He’s so gentle and slow. His lips meet yours and you welcome it, nearly melting into him. The kisses are soft and lazy, as if you both are drunk off each other. Your hands are in his hair and he moans at the feeling. Heat forms in your lower belly and you can’t help yourself when you crawl into his lap.

“Yes,” he breathes as he welcomes you into his embrace. His arms wrapping tightly around your back, rubbing his hands up and down your back while still kissing you.

His tongue brushes your lower lip and you open your mouth to taste him. He’s perfect. He’s all you feel and taste, nearly drowning in him. His bandana is still tightly secured around his eyes and you wonder if he’s consumed by you as well.

Eddie starts kissing your neck and your head drops to the side in pleasure. His hand wraps around your head, keeping you in place as he begins to suck softly in the right spot. You moan and you feel his smile against your skin.

“There it is,” he mumbles, before finding your lips again. “Everything about you is so fucking perfect.”

“Stop.” You mutter against his kiss, fighting back a smile. Your cheeks turn hot and you bury your face in the crook of his neck.

His arms tighten around you and you sink further into his arms. You both stay like that for a few minutes, resting in each other's arms. You feel him inhale you deeply before he starts stroking your hair.

“You may not realize how beautiful you are,” he says as he begins to play with your hair. “But, I don’t mind reminding you every day.”

“Would you?” You whisper.

“I’ll take your hand, tell you in great detail about the world around us while reminding you how it doesn’t even compare to you.” He kisses your shoulder. “Not even close.”

The smile that spreads across your face is almost painful. “You have such a way with words.”

He takes your face in his hands, “I do write songs, sweetheart.”

With that, he kisses you with such passion that you fall back onto the mattress, giggles spilling from your lips as Eddie turns your darkness into light.

[writteninkat]

HEADCANON: MHA MEN SPOILING YOU

w/ Bakugou, Kirishima, Todoroki, Hawks, Endeavor

warnings: none just mha men being rich<3

navigation

KATSUKI BAKUGOU

"Hey, where are you?" You hear you husband's rough voice spill through the speakers of your phone, your eyelids shaking at the eyelash extensions being pressed down and glued on your water line.

"Getting my lashes done."

"Anything else planned?" He asks, making you purse your lips in thought.

"My whole day's packed, actually. I already went to my facial appointment. I'm getting my nails and hair done after this. Maybe a little shopping if I have the energy. Oh! I'll probably get a massage too!" You rant, smiling as you imagine the perfect selfcare day.

"Alright. You think you'll have enough energy for dinner after all that?" You giggle and hum, "Uhuh! I always have energy for you baby."

"That's good to hear. Have fun today baby, I love you."

"I love you more."

You hear three beeps and you hear your lashtech giggle.

"Hero Dynamight is portrayed as this scary, rough guy in the media, but he's actually very sweet." She swoons, making your chest swell with pride.

"He is, actually. One time-"

You're cut off by your phone buzzing, followed by your lashtech gasping. Unable to open your eyes, you stretch your arms out. "What? What happened?!"

"Hero Dynamight he..." She gasps.

"He what?!" You yell, your chest caving in as every horrible thought crosses your mind.

Did he get injured during a fight?

How badly is he injured?

Is he...?

"Dammit, Ari! Tell me what's happening!" You demand, about to sit up from the bed.

"He just sent you two million yen..." She breathes out, making you release a sigh.

"Fucking Christ. I thought something happened." You whisper, relaxing back onto the bed. "Did he say why?"

"'Refunding you for you facial appointment. The rest are for your other plans. Call if you need more. I love you baby.'" She read aloud, causing a smile to stretch across your face.

"He's the sweetest." You swoon.

EIJIROU KIRISHIMA

You look around the villa, eyes sparkling and head over the moon at how beautiful it is. The Spanish colonial architecture is beautiful, the ceilings high, the wood floors shiny and waxed, and the arched windows big enough for you to show a tree from the tops of its leaves down to its roots burrowed down the soil.

"It's so pretty, baby!" You giggle, twirling around the foyer of the villa you'll be spending your two weeks in.

Finally, Eijirou was able to grab a two-week break from hero work. The two of you have been busting your asses off, protecting cities and taking down villains.

This time, you made sure your schedules synced when it came to time to making time for each other.

"You like it?" He asks, hugging you from behind.

You turn your head to the side, giving him a kiss on the cheek. "I love it, baby. This'll be the best vacation ever. Just the two of us. Happy and in love." You smile, giggling at his cheeks slowly turning into a crimson colour.

And just as you said, your two-week vacation was a bliss. The both of you drank and ate, made love, swam in the private pool, in the private beach, cuddled during movies, played video games, board games, explored the small town near the villa- everything was perfect.

As you sit on your spot in the hero's private plane, a white folder on the table catches your eye. With curiousity tickling your fingers, you open it, your gaze immediately falling to your husband's familiar signature. Your brows knit as you bring your eyes back up to the top of the document, reading it.

This letter of Intention to Offer is made and effectively by...

Property Address...

Purchaser Address...

Purchaser Contact...

Dear Mr. Kirishima Eijirou...

Please accept this bid purchase to...

For the amount of...

"Eight million euros?!" You scream, clutching on the document.

Eijirou rushes out of the private bedroom inside the jet, his eyes wide with worry as he inspects you. "What's wrong?!" He worries.

"Why the hell did you buy the villa?!" You scream, now your eyes are wide with worry.

"You said you loved it." He shrugs.

Your head pulses with the need to close your eyes. You can feel your blood pressure rising at this stupid, idiotic, irresponsible...sweet, lovely, man.

"Where the hell are you getting eight million euros?" You sigh, finally looking up at the man who foolishly spoils you rotten.

"The same place I was getting eighty million yen for the yacht you wanted..." He looks at you like you're stupid.

"Why the hell did you buy a yacht on top of a villa, Eijirou?"

"You said you wanted the boat!" He exclaims, forcing you to rack your brain for the memory of when you said that.

"I said it was pretty! Not that I wanted it!" You exclaim, your face scrunching up in stress. "Where on earth are you getting your money!"

The red head simply smiles, engulfing you with his strong arms in a warm, tight embrace. "I'm one of the top heros in the world, baby. And I've been in this game for decades now. It's safe to say I've got more money than we both can possibly need." He reasons, his lips pressing against the top of your head.

"Plus, property investments are good!" You roll your eyes at the stupidly sweet man you call your husband, your heart searing as your gaze catches onto another document with the words 'Land Ownership' and your name printed not far from it.

SHOTO TODOROKI

An evil grin stretches across your face as you point at every pretty thing your eyes fall on. You don't break your stride as you enter and exit shops in under a minute.

"That." You point at an adorable bag inside a shelf. "That, too." You point at the one beside it.

"These shoes in my size. These too. Ooo! And these as well." You hand the shoes over to your assistant, letting her pass them over to the store clerk.

You exit the shop, leaving one body guard behind as you enter the store beside it. This one's a gadget store.

"You think it's time to upgrade my devices?" You ask, playing with the showcased device on the table. You turn to your side, eyeing your husband's assistant, seeing tears comically strem down his cheeks.

"Please, madam! You've spent so much already!" He cries, "What on earth did Mr. Todoroki's money ever do to you?"

"It's not his money, it's him in general. He hasn't been spending time with me as of late. I'm getting bored." You pout, nodding at a store clerk before point at different gadgets, one of each kind.

"All those, if you have them in pink, but if not, I'll get them in black. The biggest memory you have, please. Along with accesories. Pink." You order before leaving the store once more, entering another booth selling watches in insane prices.

"Madam, Mr. Todoroki is a pro hero-"

"And I'm not?" You glare at the employee. "I work as much hours as he does. I'm just as demanded, I'm just as busy, and I'm just as tired as he is. And yet, I can always make time for him back at home."

You know you're being a bit too unreasonable. But you've grown bored and lonely. And you'd rather die than take another lover. So Shoto's bank account it is.

"He'd have a heart attack if he saw all the withdrawals." The assistant worries as you ponder over two watches displayed in front of you.

"If my husband suffers from cardiac problems due to my spending, then he shouldn't have taken being a pro hero as a job." You point at the silver and blue Patek Philippe. "This one please." You tell the sales woman who smiles at you as she nods softly.

You check your own watch to see you've been at it for hours now. Almost time for dinner.

Maybe I should pay my busy husband a visit.

You roll your eyes.

You stretch your arms up above you, letting out a yawn as your muscles finally relax.

Your last stop is a five star restaurant right beside the mall.

Shoto scribbles on a few papers, hating how he's been leaving his wife alone for multiple nights. Knowing her, she'll have his ass if this goes on for too long.

He sighs, stretching his up above him, feeling his back crack. His head pulses and the need to see his wife waves over him in strong currents.

Right as he's about to resume his paper work, his phone buzzes in a call, his financial advisor's name flashing the screen.

Shoto answers the call with one hand, the other elegantly scribbling on the paper. "What is it?"

"Sir, I think your card's been stolen. There have been numerous deductions, all huge amounts." Shoto furrows his brows, taking his wallet out from his pocket. Sure enough, his black Master is missing.

A tickling feeling grows in his gut. "From which shops?"

He hears a few clicks from the other line, "These are all luxury brands. Miu Miu? Coach? LV, Prada, Bottega Veneta, Chanel, Dior, Philippe Patek- The thief may be a woman, sir."

"You're right. A woman. My woman." Shoto sighs, chuckling softly. "How much did my wife spend?"

"A little over two hundred million yen." Shoto can hear the wince in his advisor's tone, making him grin.

Sure, his wife's a kickass pro hero, and she makes just as much money as he does. But nothing compares to her spending ability with the cute little side talent of not touching her own bank account.

Just as he's about to give out an order, said wife enters his office without knocking, a familiar paper bag in her hands.

"Brought you dinner from that favorite restaurant of yours." She lifts the bag, striding over to him.

"She seems to have been having a little tantrum because I haven't been giving her the attention she deserves." He smirks at her, "Run it through."

"You talk shit about me to your employees?" The love of his life pouts as he chuckles deeply, standing from his seat. He places his hands on his wife's hips, softly pulling her towards him, giving her lips a gentle peck.

"Never. I was just explaining to them why I lost millions of yen in a day." His joke earns him a playful glare from his wife.

KEIGO TAKAMI

You complained to Keigo once. Once. That you were tired.

It was six am that morning when you woke up like you hadn't slept at all. You didn't have muscle sores or a headache nor were you sick. You were simply tired.

By nine am, the pro hero had written you a sick leave, carried you onto his private jet, and the both of you were now flying over beautiful blue waters.

"Keigo-" He cuts you off by shushing you, lifting a finger up in the air. He pulls you towards the private room located at the back of the jet where a massage table has been set up, along with ambient spa music and a masseus in the corner with her hands clasped together and her head bowed down. The room smelled of peppermint and lavender.

"We'll land in twelve hours. You can request anything else after the massage." You don't get a chance to respond because he leaves the room, closing the door gently.

You and the masseus look at each other before she lets out an amused chuckle. "He seems to spoil you so."

You sigh, "He overdoes it, but I know he means well."

Eleven hours later, you've gotten a mani pedi, a simple and refreshing facial, your muscles are relaxed, you've eaten two square meals, and had the longest nap of your life.

Now you're seated in front of your husband, sipping your champagne in your soft, fluffy robe as he reads his magazine.

"Keigo, will you finally tell me where you're taking me?" You sigh, watching him look at you through his golden eye lashes. He smirks, setting his magazine down as he pulls the window cover up.

You squint at the sudden brightness but your eyes quickly adjust. You blink a few times, moving towards the window, taking a peek.

"You took me to Greece?!" You exclaim, seeing the familiar white walls and blue roofs.

"My baby said she was tired." He mused, "And we can't have that."

You open your mouth in protest, but a sound cuts before you. "Mr. and Mrs. Takami, we'll be landing shortly. Please return to your seats and fasten your seat belts, thank you."

You glare at your husband one last time before buckling up, letting out an annoyed huff as you keep your eyes on the window.

"Jesus..." You breath out, craning your head up to look at the domed ceiling. Your gaze drags down, moving from side to side as you inspect the large arched windows and marbled floors.

Keigo weaps his arms from behind you, breathing in your scent. "You know you didn't have to fly me anywhere. That spa day was exactly what I needed. I could've gotten it back in Japan."

"Yeah," Keigo squints, softly pushing you towards the glass double doors leading to the balcony. "But you wouldn't have been able to enjoy this view afterwards."

The scene of the vast blue ocean with the sun slowly dipping down is breath taking. Accompanied by the soft glow of yellowish lights, the chirping of a few birds here and there, and the smell of the ocean has you claiming this place to be paradise.

"I love it..." I mumbled, captivated by the beauty of the sunset.

"More than me?"

You turn your head to the side, pressing your lips softly on your husband's cheek. "No, never more than you, my love."

Keigo smiles, pressing a soft peck on your lips before slowly letting his arms fall, his hand delicately holding your hand.

"Come with me." He tugs you back inside, leading you up the grand marble staircase and inside what looks like the master bedroom.

"Close your eyes." He whispers in your ear and you immediately follow his order. Slowly leading you somewhere, you hear a soft click of a door. "Open."

You blink once, twice, before your jaw drops to the floor. You're right outside a huge walk in closet, and inside is one of the biggest boquet of elden roses formed into a heart. Surrounding it are paper bags with different kinds of designer brands printed on them. Behind the boquet is a round marble table with different boxes of leather, some kept closed and some open, revealing shiny watches and jewelry, ranging from silver, gold, and white gold.

"Keigo..." You breathe out, taking a careful step inside before turning around to face your husband. Your eyes feel like they're about to bulge out of their sockets and your haw about to fall off.

"Not now." You shakes his head, quickly stopping you as if he knows what you're about to do. "Pick an outfit and we'll leave in an hour." He presses a light kiss on your forehead before leaving you alone with your gifts.

Feeling as though you've been spoiled rotten, you take your time going through your numerous gifts, deciding to wear every dress you come across, but quickly change your mind when you find another one.

Your husband may be a pro hero, but his true talent is picking out beautiful dresses for you.

You decide on a wine red silk dress, revealing your back, pairing it with strappy silver heels, a diamond encrusted choker, and diamond earings that hang right below your chin. You make up is a simple smokey eye with a bold dark red lip. Your hair curled and pinned up into a bun, the front swept to the side.

You step out of the room and onto the top of the staircase, looking down to see Keigo already in a suit and waiting. He looks up, eyes sparkling when they settle on you. Your heart bursts of affection- he always does this. Whether you dress to the highs or like a beggar, he looks at you like you're the most beautiful thing he's ever laid his eyes on.

Feeling your cheeks flush, you slowly climb down the steps, your husband meeting you at the bottom. He drinks you up slowly, his chest rising before shakily lowering back.

"Beautiful..." He whispers, soft fingers caressing your cheek.

"Thank you." You kiss his open palm, leaving a lipstick stain. "What are we having for dinner?"

Keigo's eyes are stuck on you lipstick stain and you watch his throat swallow. "May I have you instead?" He asks, his eyes filled with heat, making you chuckle.

"No, you may not, because I'm hungry for some real food." You cup his cheek for a moment before stepping to the side, making your way to the waiting car in the driveway.

He takes you to a restaurant that serves an array of european dishes. Not long after, you have a food baby and are tipsy on what you claim to be the best wine you've ever drank.

By the time you finish, you decide to take a little walk around the small town. His suit jacket hangs on your shoulders with your clasped together.

You try to hold it in, but the searing pain from your feet makes you hiss and wobble. Keigo immediately catches you, "What's wrong?"

You sigh, looking up at him with a pout. "My feet hurt. Heels are too high."

Keigo smirks before getting down on one knee.

"We're already married." Your reminder earns you a hearty laugh from him.

"I'm trying to undo your shoes, dummy."

"Oh."

He swiftly undoes the clasps of your heels, taking the pair. Before you take another step forward, he scoops you in his arms, your immediately wrapping themselves around his neck.

"Keigo?"

"Hold on tight, love." He whispers.

You get a second to process what he means by that before his wings stretch out, pushing the both of you off the ground.

"Keigo!" You scream, tightly clutching onto him as he laughs loudly.

"Shouldn't you be used to this by now?" He yells through the air.

"I'm full and I'm drunk! You're gonna make me throw up!" You yell.

He simply laughs, his arms holding you possessively onto his chest. "Not yet, my love."

You look up at him questioningly before finding the courage to look down, enraptured by the beauty of the city below you. Before you know it, you catch a glimpse of the shoreline before dark blue waters meet your gaze.

"If you drown me, you'll be the worst husband ever." You frown, receiving a snicker from Keigo.

"Don't worry, love. We're almost there." At his words, you look infront of you, noting how the angry waters eventually grow calm until finally, they're as still as mirrors. Scratch that, they're exactly like mirrors.

The stars twinkle and shine brightly above you, as well as below you. It's as if you're in outer space. The sight around you is exquisit, bewitching, alluring, captivating—it's divine. You see millions upon million of stars all around you. Tears fill the corners of your eyes at the tantalizing scene.

Keigo looks at you and you feel him slowly lower you, right above the water. "Lower your feet for me." His request has you immediately dropping your feet.

He hovers the both of you just above the water, only your tippy toes grazes the top of the water, creating a circular ripple effect, making the stars in its reflection dance.

"Beautiful..." You gasp, charmed by the sight.

"Not as much as you." Keigo mutters, pressing a soft kiss on your forehead. "I love you."

"I love you more."

"Love?" You call out.

He hums in response, the silence relaxing.

"How much did you spend just today?"

You feel your husband freeze at your question. It's incredible how Keigo's spending problem only occurs when you're involved.

"You want me to sugarcoat it or-"

"Give it to me straight."

"A little over a hundred yen..."

You look up at him, unamused. "Keep lying."

"A hundred... Thousand?" He offers, averting his gaze.

"You take me for an idiot?"

Keigo sighs, burying his nose on the top of your head. "Million."

You huff out an irritated breath before melting back onto your husband. He's lavish when it comes to you, but it's one of the few ways he likes to show you off.

ENJI TODOROKI

Your heart pitter-patters on your chest as you squeeze your gold clutch tightly. You're nervous- and it's justifiable. You've had the fattest crush on your boss ever since you were hired as his secretary, and when he was invited to an auction with the choice to invite a plus one, he chose you. Warranted, you are his secretary, so he may need some assistance.

Stop being delusional. This is your job. Be professional.

But your flaming cheeks aren't listening to your brain. Your dress feels too tight, and your skin feels like it's been lit on fire but the cold breeze of the night cools it down.

I'm gonna end up sick.

Just as you're calming yourself down, you see a black sedan stop right in front of your lawn. You quickly make your way towards the car, opening the door only to be greeted by a strong scent of expensive perfume with a hint of musk. Your eyes immediately fall onto the one man you can't have.

He's tapping away at his phone and you can't stop the wave of disappointment engulfing you. You wanted to see his reaction to the dress you picked out.

Stop it, he has a family for Christ's sake!

You silently hop on. As soon as you close your door, the car speeds off.

"This auction is also a masquerade." He mentions, pushing a black eye mask towards you. Despite being black, it sparkles under low light.

Black glitters.

Did he find out the kind of dress you were gonna wear? The masks suits it perfectly.

As you inspect the mask, you steal a glance at him to see he's still on his phone. Rejection clenches at the stupid muscle in your chest, but you try your hardest to ignore it. You put on your mask, softly tying the black ribbon at the back of your head to keep it on.

A few minutes of silent torture passes by until bright lights finally engulf the car. "We're here, sir." The driver announces.

Endeavor taps away at his phone for a few more moments before pocketing it, letting out a tired sigh. Both passenger doors are opened and a young man in a simple black and white suit offers you his hand. As soon as you're about to take it, a bigger, much rougher hand pushes it away.

"I'll help my date down myself. Thanks." Endeavor's voice is rough and deep, but that isn't what makes you gawk at him.

"Date?" You repeat his word, making him look at you. The blue eyes under his red mask brighten when his gaze finally drops on you.

He looks at you from your mask down to your toes, and back up. He does so slowly, that even after you've placed your hand on his, he doesn't budge. Doesn't make a peep. The only thing moving is his eyes drinking you in slowly. And the movement of his throat as he swallows.

Welcome to another episode of: I'm not delusional! I swear my boss thinks I'm hot aswell!

Finally, Endeavor clears his throat. He steps to the side, allowing you to hop off the car. The cameras' flashes increase when the paparazzi notice that Pro Hero Endeavor has brought a date.

"Endeavor! Who's your date??"

"Is she someone special?"

"Is your date being paid?"

The both of you walk through the red carpet as questions are being yelled at.

"Your family back home will see you've brought a date! How do you think they'll feel?"

Your head snaps at the direction of the voice, your eyes scanning the crowd for a moment before they finally settle on a bald guy. You slip your hand from Endeavor's, striding towards the nosy fuck before quickly grabbing the lense of his camera. Your crush it in one easy squeeze, silence falling among everybody else.

"You're here to take pictures. You already know you aren't getting answers from us, so why set yourselves up for failure?" You glare across the crowd of people, making sure your words aren't directed towards baldy alone. "Snap your pictures, send them to your employers, and shut the fuck up."

Your eyes return to baldy once more, noting the sheer sweat forming all over his head. "Send the bill over to Endeavor's secretary, she'll take care of it." You tell him before flicking the bits of camera you have on your hand.

Returning to Endeavor, you hook your arm on his, and continue walking, waving and smiling for the cameras as if you aren't anxious about what you just did.

Did I do good?

Is he upset I did that?

He hasn't said anything.

Fuck, I won't have a job tomorrow. Great job, self! You've just lost an incredibly high-paying job that allows you to be close with the love of your life.

The big double doors open, revealing a dimly lit opera house. A lot of people are already inside, all of them in full glamour.

"You didn't have to do that." Endeavor finally speaks up, making you swallow nervously.

"Yeah well, I didn't like how he asked that question. As if you're doing something wrong..." Your voice is soft and unsure as you keep your gaze on the carpeted floor. You've settled on allowing your boss to lead you towards your seats.

"Don't you think what I'm doing is wrong?"

His wuestion has you snapping your neck at him, your eyes wide with worry. Does he think that?

"You're divorced, aren't you? And- and they don't know who I am. I don't think this is bad publicity at all." You defend, watching as he side eyes you.

"Anything with me is bad publicity." He mumbles, warm irritation bubbling in your chest as you clench your fist closed.

"Stop that." You demand, finally arriving at your seats.

"Stop what?" His questions goes unanswered for a few moments as you take in the private booth at the top floor. It's only the two of you here, with a button in the middle. Probably for when the client wants to bid.

"Stop putting yourself down. Yes, you've made mistakes. Big ones. Huge ones. But it isn't late for you to change and make up for it all." You look up at him with wide, genuine eyes. "You already admitted your mistakes. All that's left now is to try your damnest to make up for it, to make it up to all the people you've wronged. But you gotta do it with a genuine heart and pure intentions."

Endeavor looks at you with wide eyes, his blue orbs like the color of the sea during the peak of summer. You hold his gaze for a second,

two seconds

three-

The lights dim, grabbing you attention to the stage below.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen."

The first few items were boring, so you don't blame Endeavor for not making a bid. A few paintings and tables presented here and there, maybe a couple properties. You feel your eyelids growing heavy until a necklace is presented under the spotlight.

The blue saphire stones completely surround the neckline, and a big red ruby stands out dead center. It looks heavy and too extravagant to wear anywhere you'd go. But it reminds you of your big, quiet boss.

"It's beautiful." You gasp, unable to look away from the piece.

"Up next, we have an exquisite piece that will undoubtedly ignite a bidding war: a mesmerizing blue sapphire rose, intricately crafted with petals that glisten like the ocean depths. At the heart of this stunning bloom rests a fiery red ruby pendant, its vibrant hue creating a captivating contrast. This one-of-a-kind piece combines the tranquility of sapphire with the passionate allure of ruby, set in the finest platinum. A true masterpiece of luxury and elegance, perfect for any discerning collector." The host's voice echoes throught the room.

"Ladies and gentlemen, who will start the bidding for this unparalleled gem at eight million yen?" Immediately, you hear buttons being pressed, with the host yelling out numerous numbers.

"Eight million yen to bidder number twenty-seven!"

"Ten million yen to bidder number forty!"

"Eleven million yen to bidder number thirty-five!"

The price goes higher and higher, making you dizzy. You snap out of your lightheaded state when you see your boss press his button.

"Fifty million yen." He mutters to the microphone, making your heart drop.

Who's he giving that to?

Is there a woman in his life I don't know about?

Maybe it's an apology gift to his wife.

No, he wouldn't be that cheap about it.

"Fifty million yen to bidder number fourteen! Does anybody wish to go higher?" The room is dead silent. "Fifty million going once," Still, nobody makes a peep. "Fifty million going twice." Nada. "Sold! To bidder number fourteen at fifty million yen!"

"I can't believe you just did that." You breathe out, in the brink of a panic at the thought of losing fifty mil in a night.

Endeavor keeps his eyes up front, making you mirror his actions. You feel squirmish in your seat.

The next few items are as boring as the first ones, until your eyes catch a red fur coat on a mannequin. It's as red as Endeavor's hair, and it looks softer than the softest fur in the world.

"Prepare yourselves, esteemed bidders, for a truly unparalleled offering: a one-of-a-kind crimson fur coat. This extraordinary garment exudes opulence and sophistication, crafted from the finest fur of the Crimson Frost Lynx, a legendary creature said to roam the forests of the North." Your brows furrow at the statement.

Aren't those Lynxes extinct?

"Its rich, deep crimson hue is unlike anything you’ve seen, making a bold and timeless statement. Lined with luxurious silk, this coat is not just a piece of clothing but a work of art. Perfect for the most discerning fashion aficionado, it promises to turn heads and capture hearts. Let's open the bidding for this exclusive masterpiece at twelve million yen. Who will claim this ultimate symbol of luxury?" As the announcer ends, only a few buttons are pressed this time.

"Twelve million yen to bidder number thirty-eight! Does anybody wish to go higher?"

"Fifteen million yen to bidder number twenty!"

Once again, Endeavor presses his button, mumbling "Twenty million."

"Twenty million yen to bidder number fourteen!" As the house quiets, the announcer scans the crowd. "Twenty million yen going once' Twenty million yen going twice!"

A soft buzz sounds, your head snapping to its direction. It came from the booth right beside you.

"Twenty five million yen to bidder number fifteen!"

Endeavor presses his button once more, mumbling a headache-inducing "Thirty million."

"Thirty million yen to bidder number fourteen! Thirty million going once! Thirty million going twice! Sold! To bidder number fourteen!" The confusion is written across your face as you turn to your boss.

"A necklace, and now a furcoat? Sir if you wanna crossdress-"

He holds a finger up, effectively silencing you. You bite on your lower lip, huffing when you hear a knock to your right. The both of you turn to the sound.

"Who are those gifts for, Endeavor? Got a new lady friend?"

Hawks.

"Mind your own business." Endeavor grits out before returning his gaze to the stage.

You can't help but feel anxious about the other Hero's question.

Who are the gifts for?

Whenever her eyes twinkle, I can't help but press the button. It's like a magnet and my finger's made of metal. My eyes have been shifting to her everytime a new item is shown, and everytime I get a reaction of awe, my button is immediately pressed.

My secretary should be off-limits. If I were to ever make a move on her, it'd be as obvious as the sun and the backlash would be unforgiving. But my want for her seems to outweigh reason.

Fuck tha backlash. This woman is meant for me.

I can see it in the way she sees me.

When the auction ends, I offer my hand to her once again and we make our way to different offices meant for different bidders. Privacy is their utmost importance here, so I don't have to worry about other people looking at my woman.

"Good evening, Mr. Todoroki. This is your billing for tonight." The man hands a sheet of paper to Endeavor and you take a peek at it.

Two necklaces, a bracelet, a ring, a set of earrings, two more fur coats, a vase, and three porcelein statues of cats.

"Five-" Your eyes nearly bulge out of your sockets. "Five hundred million yen?! Sir, please excuse me, but you do not shit out money." You chastise, your brows knitting in worry.

"Stop yelling, I'm right beside you." Your boss huffs, pulling out a check. He scribbles the amount on it before his signature, sliding it towards the man behind the counter.

"Let's go, I'm tired." Endeavor turns around, walking towards the door. You run after him, struggling in your heels but eventually reach him.

"Oh! Mr. Todoroki! Shall we deliver the goods to your office or your home?" The man calls out.

Your boss stops in his tracks, craning his head to you.

"My assistant will write down her address for you. Deliver it there."

Your jaw falls, it's like your brain has disconnected from your body. "What? No! Just get it delivered to whoever you were gifting them to!"

Endeavor raises a brow, tilting his head to the side. "That's exactly what I'm doing." He says it as if you were an idiot.

"You- I'm sorry?"

"Apology accepted. Make sure you wear that necklace tomorrow night." He pushes the door open, walking down the marbled floors of the foyer.

"What's happening tomorrow night?" You ask, out of breath as you continue to struggle in your heels.

"We're going on a date."

And your heart does a backflip, lifting a middle finger up to the world. Fuck you all! I told you I wasn't delusional!

[click here to read endeavor having his way with you in the private booth]