#ahhh I’m catching up

[clandestinegardenias]

On a mission to make sure my nieces think bugs are cool, not scary/gross. Or at least like…cool AND scary and gross

[impossible-rat-babies]

first OC thought of 2024 is brought to you by HW we love to see it !

[kingofbr00klyn]

HOW WE FEELIN RN NOW GUYS

[grassbreads]

Up way late at night due to reasons and killed a bug in my kitchen that was either an extremely small cockroach or an upsettingly roachlike moth and it’s fucking haunting me

[bluesidez]

Warning: DO NOT READ THIS AT WORK!

I started to read this at work and immediately started punching the air. If I didn’t stop for the sake of my health, I would have started rolling on the floor in pure fluff agony.

Nonviolent Communication - Part One

Pairing: Spider-Man!Miguel O'Hara x Spider-Woman!Reader Summary: You don't show up to a meeting or report for other duties as a Spider Society member because of your period. Your boss shows up to your apartment. Word Count: 5,144 Warning: A little bit of angst?; Mention of death; menstruation, cramps A/N: There's multiple pieces of fan art for this fic. If you'd like to check it out, you can find everything linked in my masterlist! Masterlist Music Inspo (Spotify playlist for the fanfic here) "Nonviolent Communication" - Metro Boomin, James Blake, A$AP Rocky, 21 Savage Next Part

Part One

You were recruited four months ago into the Spider Society. Ever since the beginning, you couldn’t help but gravitate towards the leader and founder of the society. You learned quickly about his past and the way he carried himself these days.

Miguel O’Hara worked day and night. If he wasn’t in his lab working on something, he was out on missions with a select few members or on his own. There were days that you wouldn’t even see him. You wondered if anyone did on those days. You told yourself to mind your business. It’s not like you were friends and you hardly interacted anyway. You were a member of the Spider Society but one of the newest ones. You weren’t part of the most trusted members for Miguel.

And yet… There was something. You felt a need to look after him. You couldn’t understand it. You wanted to chalk it up to interest. Maybe you found his story interesting. How a man had simply replaced a version of himself in another universe to be a father, only to lose her when that universe collapsed. How heartbroken and guilt-filled he was over it. That had to be it, you told yourself. It was just intrigue. 

You figured that if you just gave in to your interest, it would go away eventually. It would fade away… So, you allowed yourself to be interested. You showed up to meetings earlier than anyone else when Miguel scheduled them. You stopped by the cafeteria to pick up coffee cups beforehand and arrived at the meeting earlier. You came in, looking unbothered and uninterested as you placed the cup of coffee in front of him, greeting him.

“The cafeteria staff gave me another cup, and I didn’t know what to do with it,” you’d say as he looked up with an uninterested look on his face.

You’d walk away and take a seat a few chairs away, picking up the nicely done reports he provided at every meeting. You did this every week with a different excuse each time. You didn’t know if he ever wondered why the cafeteria staff gave you so much coffee since that was usually your excuse. You doubted he even cared; you were just another member.

The first few times, you noticed the cup would sit in the same exact spot you’d leave it. Miguel wouldn’t even acknowledge it after looking up at you. You still brought it each week. After some weeks, he wouldn’t even look up when you placed the cup in front of him on the desk but – he started giving you a small grunt of acknowledgement. You’d walk away with a little grin, quickly putting it away when you sat down on your usual seat so he wouldn’t notice it.

Then about two weeks later, you saw it. As he was going over the reports and listening to Ben Reilly ramble on about his past because of some anomaly he caught that week, he picked up the coffee cup and took a sip. You looked away as you felt his gaze about to turn to you. The reports looked very interesting indeed.

All throughout this, you also started showing up to his lab after he and Jessica requested to see you about a mission. You noticed there was quite a mess of gadgets lying around. You offered to organize it, as it is something you enjoy and are good at. You didn’t even know why you offered but Jessica seemed eager about the idea while Miguel frowned.

��Oh, come on, Miguel. Some organization around here wouldn’t hurt, you know? Look at this mess,” Jessica said looking around, pointing at different areas cluttered with all sorts of tech pieces.

“Fine,” Miguel said as he walked away, apparently done with the conversation.

Jessica beamed at you. She seemed to like you a lot since you did your job well and didn’t get into any drama. You were like the perfect pupil. You nodded at her, with a warm smile.

So that’s how you ended up showing up once a week to Miguel’s lab to do some organizing. You show up and organize as he works on something. Sometimes he is up in the air on his platform, going through monitors. You simply greet him as you arrive before you begin organizing and cleaning. Sometimes there is no response, other times there is just a “hmm”.

These visits have led to Lyla taking a liking to you. She often asks you questions as you work while Miguel is there. You don’t know if he pays attention to what Lyla and you talk about. You honestly doubt he even listens. He is always so engrossed in what he is doing.

Lyla definitely makes the time pass faster. It isn’t like you wanted it to but the silence in the lab is… off sometimes. Lyla asks you all sorts of things like whether you have plans for that weekend, if you enjoy a certain activity because other spider members enjoy it, if you like a certain food, or how missions have gone, etc. It is always something different. You respond to her questions as you work. You are fast and efficient.

You never miss a week, and you are never late as you have made it a habit to show up at the same time. Except this week that is. You started your period and this month is kicking your butt with excruciating cramps and lower back pain. You barely make it to your home after patrolling your city, sliding into bed in pain.

You dig through your nightstand, looking for the specific medicine you take to take care of this even if it makes you extremely drowsy and dizzy. You take it and lie down, hoping it will help right away as you groan in pain. You lie in bed, clutching your stomach. The medicine definitely makes you drowsy and dizzy, but it doesn’t seem to help much with the pain. You pass out a few times but wake up again, the pain too much.

You’re so out of it that you don’t notice the time. You don’t remember the day. You don’t notice the sun out behind your closed blinds. You don’t hear a multidimensional portal open in your small apartment living room. You don’t register the heavy footsteps that move through your apartment. Your eyes are closed, hands clutching your stomach, soft groans escaping your lips. You don’t see the large shadow moving through your room until the last second.

“Go away,” you say weakly, thinking someone has broken into your home.

Despite your pain, despite feeling drowsy and dizzy, your mind still has the time to find this funny. The one day you feel like absolute crap is the day someone decides to break into your apartment. And you’re Spider-Woman! How ironic, you think. Let them take whatever they want, you think, as long as they don’t hurt you.

However, you are surprised when you feel a warm and heavy hand pressed to your forehead.

“No fever,” the voice says stating it as a fact.

You continue to clutch your stomach, eyes closed. Unbeknownst to you as you lay in bed in and out of it, a man is in your apartment. His height towers over you in bed.

Miguel O’Hara is in your apartment… Checking on you. He stares down at you as you lay in bed. He sees you clutching your stomach and as he observes carefully, he sees no injury. There is no sight of blood either. His eyebrows furrow in confusion. You are clearly in pain but why? He turns to your nightstand, noticing the bottle of pills. He inspects it. Painkillers…

His eyebrows furrow further as he realizes what it could be. He walks to your bathroom to confirm. His suspicion is confirmed when he takes a look at your garbage can, spotting the plastic wraps of feminine products. His suspicion is further confirmed when he sees a pack of feminine products on the counter, ready for easy access.

“Coño,” he says quietly as he realizes his suspicion is true.

He walks out of your bathroom, looking at your shape in the bed. You are still clutching your stomach and soft groans escape from your lips ever so often. Miguel remembers the days he used to take care of his wife before everything collapsed. It was a long time since he had even thought about doing that for a woman, but his mind started remembering everything he did to ease his wife’s pain each month. He stood there, thinking before he walked out of your bedroom and into the one room that was the kitchen, the living room, and dining room all at once… New York apartments, Miguel thought, as he took in your apartment.

You were organized and clean, but that didn’t surprise Miguel. You did organize the lab each week with such ease despite Lyla peppering you with questions the entire time. Your apartment was warm with its colors. It gave the impression of someone happy and warm. Miguel noticed a bookshelf in the part of the apartment that plays the living room. It is filled with so many books that you have some stacked horizontally over the vertical ones. An avid reader, Miguel thinks before he heads to your kitchen.

It is clean for the most part except for a plate and a cup. Miguel searches through your kitchen, looking for something specific. He returns to your room, looking through your drawers looking for something else. A few minutes later, he returns to your bedroom. You lay still. Seems that you have passed out at last. With ease, Miguel slides some homemade socks with warm rice under your sweatshirt. He places one on your stomach and the other one on your back.

A satisfied hum escapes your lips, letting Miguel know his idea was somewhat successful despite it being homemade. He gives you one more look before heading out to your living room.

He doesn’t even know why he came. All he knows is that you didn’t show up to organize the lab like you did each week. You didn’t show up to the morning meeting either. Jessica hadn’t heard from you in hours and there was no activity from your gizmo.

A few hours later, you wake up from your slumber. You yawn and stretch your body gently. You lay in bed for a few seconds, realizing your pain is gone. Now you just feel the exhaustion that comes from having a period. You sit up in bed slowly, feeling something on your stomach. You look down. Your sweatshirt is tucked into your shorts on both sides. You untuck it and two socks filled with something slide out. You furrow your eyebrows as you lift them up to inspect closer. You bring them to your nose.

“Rice…” you say, recognizing the specific scent of rice. Your eyebrows furrow but you shrug. You don’t even remember getting up to make these, but you thank yourself for doing it despite being out of it. You get up from bed slowly and check the time. It’s already evening. You decide to take a shower to ease your muscles.

Your shower is hot. You fill the bathroom with fog, but it doesn’t matter. It makes you feel like a million bucks when you get into fresh clothes, all shower and fresh. You head out of your bedroom to get something to drink and that’s when you see it. The lamps in the living room are on, there is music playing from your record player. You look confused as you step out further.

“Mierda,” you hear an annoyed male voice, causing you to jump a little.

You turn to the voice, located in the kitchen and find…

“Miguel?” you say slowly but with confusion as you find him with his back to you.

He stands in front of one of your kitchen cabinets, holding it open. There’s a screwdriver in his hand. He turns around at your voice.

“Y/N… You’re awake,” he says turning fully around now.

You take him in. He’s in his suit as always. You’ve wondered many times if he ever just dresses in casual clothes since he’s always in his suit. He stands tall, of course, and you can’t help but think how he makes your already small kitchen look ten times smaller than it is with him standing there. You rub your eyes, making sure this isn’t just some hallucination.

“Um- you are here,” you say looking at him again.

Miguel nods, turning back around to the cabinet. You watch as he uses the screwdriver. You remember then. Your loose cabinet that has been a pain in the butt for months now. You look around the place. There were some dishes in your sink, or at least you remember there being some but now they’re gone. You notice the trash was taken out. Clean dishes were put away. And to your surprise, there’s food on the stove. There’s also a sweet scent lingering in the air that you cannot pinpoint right now.  

“You feel better?” Miguel asks, with his back still to you as he finishes fixing the cabinet.

“Yes. A lot better, actually…” you say as you cross your arms across your chest, finding this situation so strange.

Miguel turns around to face you now. He looks at you before looking down at the screwdriver in his hand. The screwdriver looks like a toy in his hand, you notice.

“Yeah, well…” Miguel starts, looking up at you again. “Jessica was worried about you. She said you didn’t report to the meeting we had this morning. She asked if you had gone to my lab to organize it and when I told her no, she grew worried something had happened to you since she also noticed no activity from your gizmo. She wanted to come herself and check on you, but the baby kept her busy today. She asked me to come in and check for her.”

I nod, realizing that makes perfect sense. Jessica has grown fond of you after all, you just never realized she was that fond of you.

“Well, thank you for checking in on me for her. I’ll be sure to thank her tomorrow,” you say looking around the kitchen again.

“You probably shouldn’t do that,” Miguel says, putting the screwdriver down on the counter. It looks normal sized again. You raised an eyebrow. “She doesn’t like it when people thank for her… caring. If you want to thank her, just get her a coffee and tell her you appreciate her mentorship,” Miguel explains, resting his hands on his hips.

You nod slowly, maybe it was better to just thank her for everything instead of just this act. You sigh.

“I guess you’re right,” you say, scratching your neck softly. “Did she also tell you to fix my cabinet, or did that just bother you so much?”

Miguel’s face remains void of any expression. You wanted to ask about the homemade socks with rice since it became apparent to you that you weren’t responsible for them, but you kept your mouth shut.

“I was looking for – rice when I noticed your loose cabinet and other messed up things around here. You have a shitty landlord or something?” he asks, looking around.

You shrug. “Yeah, but the rent is good.”

“You’re not exactly strapped for cash, are you?”

You shake your head. It was true. You had some money. You could afford to move somewhere else where the landlords were better but…

“Why are you still here then?” Miguel asks.

His question is laced with interest, and you can’t help but think about how this is the longest conversation you’ve had with him since… meeting each other. And even then, that conversation was probably about three minutes long. You avert your gaze from him, looking at the wall nearest to you. Your eyes land on a single picture amongst many.

You lost your Peter three years ago, just like many of your spider colleagues. Losing him has been the hardest thing you have ever experienced. You have been punched till the air was knocked out of you, you have laid in ruble with buildings crushed over you, and you have been on the verge of death many times, but nothing has ever nor will ever compare to the pain and grief of losing Peter.

As you look at the picture of Peter and you, the one you took the first day you moved into this apartment, you think about all the memories in this apartment. It was all the two of you could afford back then but you two loved it. It was your place. It was the first time you were living together, and it didn’t matter much that it was a little rundown. You guys just wanted a place to live together. You two made it what it is now. A warm and happy place where you two could come home after a long day of work. You spent hours thinking of how to decorate it. Choosing the right and most affordable couch, choosing the wallpaper, choosing where the furniture went.

In the end, it had turned into a beautiful apartment. It was a haven for the two of you but what mattered the most was that you shared it with him, your Peter. You sigh, feeling overwhelmed by the loss again. You had moved on, of course. You had to. How else would you live otherwise? And you had promised Peter you would. Your mind is overwhelmed by the sudden memories as he laid in your arms. He had been crushed by ruble during an attack by a villain, his body was weak, his eyes glistened as they looked at you. You remember caressing his face and hair. He loved it when you did that. He always said it was the perfect way to soothe his nerves. The perfect way to get him to relax and nap after a stressful day.

Your own eyes were filled with tears as you saw it. The way his life was slowly leaving his body. What hurt a million times more, if it was even possible to hurt that much, was that you knew he knew. He knew that was it. There was no turning back. There was no miracle. There was no secret medicine or miracle serum that could make him get up and walk away from this unscathed. That was it.

You held him in your arms, rubble all around you. He looked at your eyes, his own hazy, as you caressed his face and hair. He gave you a gentle smile as he reassured you, he was okay.

“You will move on, right, baby?” he asked you, his voice indicating how little time there was left. “You have to… You must promise me you will. This city depends on you.”

You nodded your head and unable to hold them back any longer, your tears spilled down your face. You remember how some of your tears had landed on his pale yet still beautiful face.

“You must promise me, out loud, darling. Please,” he said, struggling more to get his words out.

“I promise. I promise I will try my best…” you said, and he had nodded. He looked satisfied with your response.

“You must continue – you are my hero. You always have been. And you are the love of my life, darling… I only wish we had more time. That I had more time to make you happier… To make you, my wife. Please – promise me you will be open to other loves,” he had gasped out.

You shook your head. That was impossible. How could you fall for someone else when Peter was the love of your life? Peter, noticing your reluctance, lifted his hand weakly to your face. Despite everything, he was still trying to comfort you. You felt something in you break further. He wiped your tears and gave you a weak yet comforting smile.

“Please promise me you will allow yourself to love again… If there is someone out there that makes you feel like that, please promise me you won’t shut them out. Please, love, promise me,” he said, looking at your eyes and cleaning your tears away.

His voice was weaker, and you noticed his chest was beginning to rise slower and slower. The time was running out…

“I promise I will. I will open my heart if someone comes along but I promise I will never stop loving you, Peter,” you had answered, trying to make him happy in his last minutes. He smiled at you, sweetly, and thanked you. You held him close to you, breathing in his scent. You tried to hold on to his warmth desperately. You clung to him, like you could defend him from Death herself. Like you could defy her this one time.

You cried your soul out as his heartbeat ceased to beat. You cried out as his body became limped in your arms. You cried as his chest stopped moving. You cried, cried, and cried as you held him close to you like your tears and grip could bring him back.

You cursed Death.

You often worried about hurting Peter if something happened to you. You never counted on Peter being the one who left too soon.

You inhale shakily. Your vision has become blurred with tears as you continue to stare at the picture on the wall. You turn around, remembering that Miguel is there. You wipe your tears discreetly. You swallow the lump in your throat, trying to force it down. Otherwise, the moment you speak, your tears will flow. You clear your throat.

“It doesn’t really bother me – and besides, I spend a lot of time out,” you finally say, sounding somewhat normal now. Though the ache is there, deep in your chest. It’s like someone stabbed you in the heart with a wooden stick and left a small piece of it stuck. It always hurts, it always aches.

Miguel doesn’t reply as you turn back around, feeling more in control of yourself. However, you can see something in his eyes. Perhaps understanding? You guessed he probably knew to some extent what had happened to you. It was a canon event for all spider-people. To lose someone.

“Have you eaten anything?” Miguel asks suddenly, dropping the apartment conversation probably for your own sake.

You shake your head. It was hours since you had eaten something. Since yesterday, really.

“There’s some food here. Let me…” he says trailing off, turning around to get a plate from a cabinet. You can’t help but feel a little surprised at how fast he learned his way around the kitchen. Then again, it’s not that large you realize. You approach the kitchen island and take a seat on one of the two island chairs as Miguel turns around with a plate of pasta. Your eyebrows raise in surprise. It is one of your comfort foods. Miguel slides it over to you, gently. A fork is already on it, ready for you.

You slide the plate closer, the scent of it making your stomach growl instantly. You’re definitely hungry.

“Thank you,” you say before you dig in. You can’t help but smile with satisfaction. It is amazing. “This is really good.”

Miguel doesn’t say anything, just watches you. You eat some more, feeling a bit self-conscious as you feel his gaze on you, but you ignore it. Or try to.

“So, are you a really great cook or is pasta one of the few things you can cook?” you ask, slowing down on your eating, trying to fill in the silence.

Miguel shrugs. “My mother taught me how to cook when I was a teenager. It stuck.”

You nod, still eating. “Great skill to have, really… It helped me and –“ you pause, realizing you were about to mention Peter. You swallow. “It helped Peter and I when we were in college,” you finish, looking down at your plate.

A hint of a smile forms on your face as you remember Peter and you cooking for the week over the weekends. You guys lived separately but shared groceries to help each other out. It saved you guys a lot of time and money and brought the two of you closer.

“It is a great skill to have,” Miguel agrees quietly as you continue to eat, looking down at your plate.

You nod silently as you finish eating. You look up at Miguel, he’s looking down at the counter. His hands are flat against the counter, and he looks lost in his own thoughts. You can’t help but take this time to look at him. The sight of him in your kitchen is really something. You think about how great he is at these things like looking after a woman when they’re on their period or cooking. You want to facepalm yourself as you realize it’s obvious he would be good at these things. He did have a wife and daughter at one point, you remind yourself. You look down at your plate.

“Oh, I made this for you, too,” Miguel says at last, breaking the silence.

You look up curiously, wondering what else he had made. He turns around towards the stove and you watch carefully as he retrieves a mug from one of the cabinets. Again, you feel surprised seeing how he knows exactly where to find what he’s looking for. It disappears from your view in front of him and you hear him pour something. He turns around again, holding one of your mugs. Whatever it is, is hot as you can see steam from the top. He sets the mug down on the counter and slides it over to you. Again, his movements are gentle. You lean forward and reach for it.

“Careful. It’s hot,” he warns, as you pull the mug towards you gently.

The scent fills your nostrils quickly and you recognize the sweet scent that met you earlier when you exited your bedroom. You look up at him.

“Canelita,” you say, grinning.

Miguel nods. “Growing up, my mom said it helped with cramps. It used to help my…” he trails off.

You nod. “Yeah, my grandma used to say that, too.” You pause as you inhale the sweetness of cinnamon. “Thank you…” you reply, with sincerity, still meeting his eyes.

Miguel only nods. You drink the warm liquid, enjoying the warmth that spreads down your throat, chest, and finally your stomach. As it settles in your stomach, you feel warm and cozy.

Miguel clears his throat then and looks down at his gizmo. “Well – I should get going. I have some things to catch up on,” he says turning his attention back to you.

You nod as you place the mug on the counter gently and get up. He walks out of the kitchen portion and heads to the middle of the room. He starts clicking on his gizmo, presumably starting a multidimensional portal. You walk towards him, leaving some distance, of course. He looks up at you as the portal appears in the middle of your apartment behind him.

You clear your throat. “Hey – I just wanted to say thank you… For everything. I know Jessica asked you to check up on me, but you did much more than that. I truly appreciate it,” you say, hoping that you’re fully expressing how grateful you are.

You can’t help but think about how you’d probably still be in bed right now. Miguel nods.

“It’s no problem…” Miguel replies, though he looks like he wants to say more. You watch, waiting but he just stares back with little emotion until he nods at you and turns around. He starts walking into the portal. The bright lights coming from the portal create shadows in your apartment. You watch wordlessly until he looks behind his shoulder. “Don’t forget – don’t mention it to Jessica. She can be weird about being thanked sometimes.”

You nod. “I won’t bring it up, no worries. Thank you again. Enjoy your night!” you call out and he just nods before he disappears into the portal. The portal disappears a few seconds after him, taking away its shadows with it.

You sigh as you stand there for a few more seconds before taking a seat again on the counter island. You drink more canelita, still cherishing the warm feeling. You look at the stove. Everything is in containers and there’s no sight of dirty pans, pots, or utensils.

“Cooked and washed the dishes…” you say to yourself before taking a sip again.

Your attention turns to the cabinet you found him fixing earlier. You get up and walk towards it. You open it with no issue. You think about all the little nicks this kitchen has. Like the drawer that doesn’t come out fully or the other cabinet door that makes a noise every time you open it. Curiosity gets the best of you because before you know it, you are pulling said drawer. Your lips part in surprise as the drawer fully slides out without issues. You check the other cabinet door. No sound.

You sigh as you look around, your eyes landing on the containers. One of them is full of leftover pasta and the other one contains the canelita. Your thoughts are interrupted as you hear your gizmo go off. You turn in the direction it came from, trying to remember where you left it last night. You are usually very careful with it but last night you barely made it through the door.

You find the gizmo on the console table in the living room section of your apartment. You realize there are a few messages from your colleagues like Hobie, Miles, Ben, and Jessica. You quickly reply to the first three who asked about your whereabouts before you move to Jessica’s. You realize she sent multiple messages all ranging from asking how your last mission went to why you weren’t answering to asking if you were okay. The last one makes you stop. Your eyebrows furrow in confusion as you read it.

“Okay… You haven’t replied to any of my messages. Do I need to send someone to check on you? You’ve been MIA all day. Let me know you’re okay!!”

You look up towards where the portal was opened just minutes ago. You shake your head and reply to Jessica, notifying her about what happened. You leave out Miguel though. You put away your gizmo in its usual spot and look around your apartment, thinking. The lamps in the living room section are still on, the record player has stopped playing, however.

“Hm.”

--------------------------------------------- Translation for italicized words: Coño - fuck (it varies by country) Mierda - Shit Canelita - a tea made out of cinnamon sticks

Next Part

A/N: Might do part two. If it matters, I listened to "Nonviolent Communication" from the ATSV album as inspiration. Such a lovely song for Miguel, I think.

I love Miguel O'Hara. That's all.

[tariah23]

I still need to renew my sanitation license… I keep forgetting that I got certified back in hs but never utilized it since I never did anything with food service. The test was insanely easy though. Most of is is just common sense and so on. And I was a culinary arts major so of course most of what had been on the exam, clicked with me. But I am rusty…

[coffee-and-geto]

“IS THIS WHAT YOU EXPECTED?”

pairing: ryomen sukuna × f!reader

summary: yuji itadori had been your crush for a while now. to try and get closer to him despite your bashful nature — you asked him to a movie night at your place. but nothing goes as planned when sukuna takes possession of him and makes you a deal to help you get closer to your friend…

warnings: +18, smut, nsfw, possessive! sukuna, dirty talk, degradation (slut, brat), dub con, dom! sukuna, sub! reader, fingering (f! receiving), sex (p in v), yuji is an aged up character, swearing, fanart found on pinterest if you know the artist let me know pls.

wc: 2, 946

“Oops…” murmurs Yuji as you come down the stairs of your house with a small stack of DVDs in hand.

The bowl of popcorn that you filled just five minutes ago for your movie night is now empty, and you blink as you approach the kitchen counter. “Yuji…” You snort and go to fetch another bag of popcorn from one of the cupboards to refill the bowl.

The sound of popcorn kernels clattering fills the room, and Yuji has a slight pout on his lips. He takes a few hesitant steps toward you and seeks your gaze. Still new to the romantic feelings you had for him, his unusual closeness catches you off guard, and you slowly back up to the counter in measured steps. You force a natural smile, and your heart races at the sight of your friend, whose eyes show disappointment.

“It’s nothing, Yuji. I usually have a lot of popcorn,” you try to reassure him. “But you have quite an appetite for such a fit teenager.” You swallow thick.

Yuji lets out a nervous laugh, seemingly more at ease than a few seconds ago, “You think so?”

Your eyes drift down to his body, eyeing his exposed forearms (he had kept his sorcerer uniform on despite your recommendation to get comfortable), and the defined muscles do not escape your notice: for a teenager his age, Yuji Itadori was very fit.

“Yeah... Pretty much…” Your eyes linger for a moment longer before you look back up at the pink-haired boy whose face you dream of covering with kisses.

Dressed in your pajama shorts and a simple t-shirt, it’s hard to stay perfectly calm, especially when your crush is less than two meters away from you.

Yuji steps forward nonchalantly, hands in his pockets, and steals a piece of popcorn which he skillfully tosses into his mouth. “So, what are we going to watch?”

“I was thinking about some thriller movies or something like that. I’m not too fond of horror movies,” you admit with a shy smile.

“Oh yeah? Why? Are you afraid you won’t sleep at night after that?” Yuji teases you. You nod toward the small stack of DVDs, and he takes the liberty of looking through your selection. “Scream’s pretty good,” he comments, picking it up to examine it with a ‘professional’ eye. Yuji’s brown eyes land on you, and you feel an uncomfortable warmth rise in your neck. “The DVD is new. Have you seen it before?” he asks with a surprisingly gentle, almost… concerned and indulgent tone.

You shake your head.

“I won’t spoil it, but I really liked it,” Yuji sets the other DVDs aside and shows you the one for ‘Scream.’ “Is that okay with you?”

You nod faintly, and a slit appears on Yuji’s cheek. It opens, revealing two sharp canines that are easily recognizable from spending so much time with your friend.

“Damn it, you two are really embarrassing to watch.” A voice escapes from the slit — the mouth that acts as an intermediary with Ryomen Sukuna.

“Hey! Go back to sleep!” exclaims Yuji, almost slapping himself, which makes you wince.

A hysterical laugh echoes, and black marks now streak your friend’s face. The laughter and the slit disappear, making way for Ryomen Sukuna. He stretches his arms up, flexing smoothly. “Ahhh!”

You try to back away but have forgotten you’re leaning against the kitchen counter. Now you’re stuck with the King of Curses…

“D-Don’t come any closer…” you whisper in a trembling voice, eyes wide with terror.

Another hysterical laugh escapes Sukuna’s lips. His eyes — so different from those of your lover — examine you from head to toe, and one eyebrow arches. “What was his type again? Tall girls with big asses?”

You blush at his mocking tone and don’t dare say a word. Even your breathing seems to have become labored, as if the oxygen had thickened in just a few seconds.

A sneer never leaves Sukuna’s lips as he approaches you with an overwhelming air of confidence. When he reaches you, he narrows his eyes and looks you up and down a second time. “So this is the kid you want to flirt with?” His voice is dripping with arrogance…

You swallow hard and don’t dare to respond, your throat tight and your wide eyes fixed on the tattoos of the King of Curses.

“Come on, rabbit, cat got your tongue?” Sukuna snickers.

You shake your head, and a rough whisper escapes your dry throat, “N-No…”

“Oh really? Because the atmosphere a minute ago was so cringeworthy! You two looked like a couple of idiots fresh out of their mother’s womb, ugh!” Sukuna leans in provocatively, his hot breath brushing your cheek and stealing your own.

“What do you want from me?” you murmur reluctantly, pulling your head back slowly to find some breathable air.

“Nothing, just to avoid hearing your terribly awkward conversation any longer,” Sukuna replies, shrugging.

“It wasn’t awkward, you made it seem that way. Give Yuji back his body,” you dare to retort. Your heart pounds faster and harder in your chest, loud enough for Sukuna to hear.

“Nah, I don’t feel like it. I don’t want to deal with the stifling aura of a hormonal teenager again.” Sukuna rolls his eyes and tilts his head to the side. “Do you like this brat?”

You squint without answering.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he raises a playful eyebrow. “How about we make a deal?”

“No,” you reply immediately.

“What an ingrate! I grant you my tolerance and you dare refuse a deal I give you?” he retorts with a much less sympathetic aura. His hands leave his pockets to rest on either side of the counter, effectively trapping you with him. “I don’t recall asking you a question.”

And his voice immediately makes you regret your words. Being trapped at home with Ryomen Sukuna was not something you could let slide, much less making a deal with him. “No, actually— I—”

“Hush.”

Sukuna’s hands slide from the counter to your hips, gripping them firmly, making you startle in place. His lips descend to your neck, leaving a line of soft kisses, causing a slight shiver. His eyes notice the goosebumps on your skin and his lips curl. “Is this what you expected?” His whisper reverberates like a shockwave through your entire body.

“I— You— No,” you manage to reply almost in a gasp.

“Here’s my proposition then. I help you get closer to the brat on one condition.” A manic smile lights up Sukuna’s face, and your heart now tries to escape your chest.

“What?” you let out almost in a whimper when he presses his lower body against yours.

“Let me use you.”

Your breath immediately reacts to the panic that overwhelms you. No way. You’ll end up dead in that case.

“No, that’s out of the question—” You try to finally slip out of his embrace, but your strength doesn’t match Sukuna’s. He applies more pressure on your hips and plants a kiss on your trapezius muscle. "Just for tonight. Nothing bad will happen to you…” His insistent tone is like a flirtatious purr.

The sensation of Yuji’s lips and much more on you and the idea of being closer makes the blood rush to your head, so how can you refuse such a tempting offer?  But the awareness that he’s using Yuji’s body cools your thoughts.

“No, I can’t— It’s disrespectful to Yu—”

“Are you his owner to know what respect means? Do you think I’m unaware of his adolescent thoughts imagining you with him?” Sukuna’s hands move up to your waist, his nails digging into your back, eliciting a whine from you. “The number of times he’d dreamt of hearing you moan like that?”

If your face could get any redder at this point, the blood might as well explode from your body at any moment.

Your features twist in irritation and anger at what he said next. “If I let myself get fucked by someone like you, I’m sure I won’t come out of it alive!”

A chuckle is your only response. “I’ll try to go easy then. But no promises.” Then he grabs you by the hips to lift you onto the counter and roughly spreads your legs. He slips between them and captures your lips in a rough and hungry kiss. Your breath leaves your lips as he swallows it, not giving you a moment to respond to his taunt. You respond against your will, your lips devouring each other and teeth clashing.

Sukuna sinks his teeth into your lower lip, making you suck in a sharp breath. His wet tongue soothes your aching flesh and moves down your throat to lick a strip of bare skin. The tension and weight of his movement make you shiver, and you hastily take the initiative to remove your shirt, revealing your chest encased in a bra. It rises and falls with your breathing, radiating a heat full of desire.

Sukuna lets out an appreciative whistle that makes you blush. “Do I still need to take control?” he teases with a smirk. “Or is this the behavior of a slut?”

The label makes your heart tremble, and your hands quickly find Sukuna’s neck to bring his addictive lips back to yours. He immediately returns your kiss and plays for a few seconds with the strap of your bra before finding his way to the clasp and undoing it. The bra falls to the floor, and Sukuna’s hands find the curves of your breasts. A whimper escapes your lips, and you close your eyes for a second to savor the new sensation.

A growl is blown from him after breaking away from your lips to snake a path to your collarbone, which he wastes no time in nibbling on. A small jolt shakes your belly, and you tilt your chin up to give him more access to your body. You almost desperately try to remain silent, but it’s difficult when Sukuna’s mouth suckles on a nipple anything but gently. The pressure makes you moan and grimace in pleasure.

“Sukuna—”

“Fuck…” he curses under his breath, moving to your other nipple. He gently nibbles on the hardened, sensitive bud while his other hand keeps the other nipple occupied, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. You hum and place your hands on your thighs to keep them from trembling — in vain. “The kid wasn’t wrong,” Sukuna murmurs. He wraps his arms around your waist and swiftly carries you to the couch. Your back sinks into the soft cushions as Sukuna’s skilled fingers find the hem of your shorts and remove them completely, with no regard for your embarrassment. His legs straddle the armrest of the couch, and he brutally spreads your thighs, remaining still, his eyes fixed on the large wet spot at the center of your panties. “Who was talking about respect for whom, again?” A dark, mocking smile questions you.

A tremor runs through your muscles, and you prepare to close your legs, but Sukuna anticipates the movement. He places his hands on the inside of your plush thighs to keep them wide open. “Is the dirty slut afraid?” He chuckles before sliding a finger along the side of your underwear, teasing and toying with your swollen core. “So wet f’me…” Your eyes take in the sight of Sukuna’s face: dilated pupils, slightly parted mouth, and almost ragged breathing. He’s practically drooling at the sight of your clothed intimate area.

Blood pounds in your temples when he easily removes your panties, leaving you naked beneath him. His forefinger and middle finger hover over your wet, dripping entrance. “Already worked up by a few kisses…” he comments, and you can only look at him pathetically.

“Sukuna, please…” you whimper as the sensation of his two fingers gliding from your sensitive, throbbing bundle of nerves to your wet folds makes you want to moan even more.

“Please what?” he repeats, focused on your entrance that tightens and closes around nothing. “Already begging?” He bursts into a fit of laughter. “I can’t wait to fill you with my dick…”

“Need you,” you whine with a pout and pleading eyes. And God, he wants to take you rough and fast at that moment.

“Again.” He looks up at you. “Beg for it.” His brown eyes burn with desire — a desire so intense, it could destroy if he didn’t play it patiently.

“Please… Sukuna… I—” But you’re cut off by a yelp from your throat as Sukuna’s fingers plunge hard into you, and he hisses to contain himself.

You’re incredibly tight. Your gummy walls cling to his fingers as if afraid they might escape.

“Fuck… You’re so wet…” He growls, moving his fingers in and out, making you tighten even more. Uncontrolled moans escape from you, resonating in the room.

“Sukuna… hgnn— so good…” you moan pathetically, squirming under him like a trapped mouse in his snare. His pace doesn’t change, going in and out of you, reaching that spot deep inside you each time he goes deeper.

“That’s it… Moan my name,” he murmurs, accelerating his pace. You convulse on the couch and grip the edges of the seats as if your life depended on it.

And reaching the depths of your pussy, Sukuna grins and bursts into laughter at your body’s reaction. You almost scream his name, and your walls swallow his fingers. They curl deep inside your womb, and your trembling legs and ragged breath testify to your state approaching the edge of ecstasy. “Sukuna— Please… so close...”

“That’s it… Cum on my fingers… I want to see you fall apart in front of me…” he whispers in a husky voice. The speed of his fingers thrusting into you increases, hitting that spot that makes your toes curl and almost scream his name.

“Cumming…!” you pant as your back arches and your walls spasm around his thick fingers. You squirt and sob his name pitifully.

Sukuna curls his lips into a sadistic smile and gradually slows the pace of his fingers inside you. He eventually withdraws them completely, admiring the shiny slickness coating his forefinger and middle finger.

“Hmm…” he hums, bringing his fingers to his mouth to taste you. He growls in satisfaction and wastes no time removing his pants and underwear, leaving you barely a moment to take in the sight of his throbbing bulge finally being freed.

If you had bet on Yuji’s length size, you could have won much more money than you thought.

It was just like in your dreams, large, thick, aching, and slightly veiny. Your lips part, and you don’t take your eyes off its reddened, sensitive tip. Sukuna grips his length in his hand and brings it to your needy pussy. The tip meets your swollen clit and taps it.

Sukuna’s lenght twitches slightly in his hand, eager to fill you. The aching tip glides along your folds, spreading them to stop and position itself at your entrance.

“Uh… Can we go—” But you’re cut off. You scream in surprise as his thick member fills your hole in one go, reaching the bottom with almost no difficulty — except for your tightness revealing a side of Sukuna you never thought you’d see: him, teeth and jaw clenched, holding back everything except a low growl and dozens of curses to convey how good you feel wrapped around him. His member splits you in a delicious embrace. Eyes closed, he starts a slow in-and-out motion, forcing you to sob his name in pleasure.

But the only downside was that you weren’t quite used to him yet, your body writhing to try to slow the pace. His hips buck against yours more and more quickly. With each thrust, he hits your gummy spot, making you tighten around him and moan his name, the sound of which is like music to his ears.

Another growl escapes Sukuna as he buries his head in the crook of your neck, nibbling your shoulder. “Take it… Take it…” he keeps murmuring between loud breaths.

“F-Fuck… It’s too much…” you gasp, gripping his shoulders with your hands. Your nails dig into the flesh of his shoulders, and every time his slams into you hit your g-spot, it’s like you’re about to cum any moment, fucking both your cunt and your brains out mercilessly.

“Take it, slut,” he growls in your ear, his lenght twitching in you, ready to fill you with every pound he makes. “I’m gonna fill you up… Fill you until you scream you can’t take it anymore…”

His hips relentlessly roll against you, and Sukuna revels in the cries of pleasure you express. A knot forms in the pit of your stomach, on the verge of exploding. One final pound inside you and it bursts as you reach your climax around him, fucking you even through your orgasm. Your chest rises and falls at such a rapid pace it feels like you’re emerging from a near-drowning experience.

Your waning orgasm is quickly followed by Sukuna’s. “Sh-Shit… Fuuuuck…” he growls in your ear, his hands gripping your hips tightly. Without warning, his orgasm take over him and he finishes inside you with his hot, thick load into your tight hole.

Now, only rough groans and sighs are heard in the room. You let your head fall back onto one of the sofa seats and close your eyes, exhausted. Sukuna slowly withdraws from you and lies down by your side, one hand still around your hip in a possessive embrace.

“You know, brat, if you’re not Yuji’s type, at least you’re mine. Just sayin’.”

a/n: this fic wasn’t planned MWAHAHAHA! i’m sorry tho 😭 it’s been 3 weeks or more than i’m promising to post my fashion designer! suguru fic and i didn’t finish it. i’ve got problems to solve and it’s making me more stressful than i thought 🫠 hope you enjoyed anyway (it’s my first smut tbh)

[luvsupa]

“YOU’RE A STAR!”

tags: musician!choso x manager fem!reader, reader has a secret fan account, both are in 20, choso has lots of tattoos and is an r&b singer, he has piercings, smut (p in v), ōral sex (f!recieving), sub!choso (ish), voyeurism, etc. mdni.

w.c: 3,2k

a/n: YALL I’m almost at 2k LIKE THATS INSANEEEE!! TY GUYS SOSOS MUCHHH AHHH

+ erm if there’s errors lmkk

you sit in choso’s expansive dressing room, surrounded by his makeup and fashion assistants, eyes glued to the big screen as he finishes his final song of the concrrt. the sound of thousands of screaming fans fills the air, their voices blending with his deep, angelic one. even from back here, you can hear the unmistakable roar of the crowd, hanging onto every note he sings. the way he commands the stage, the way he moves—everything about him makes your chest tighten.

he looks unreal tonight, his stylist outdid themselves. the subversive, edgy look suits him perfectly, especially the ripped wife-beater that showcases his inked arms, gleaming under the stage lights. the body glitter you suggested—yeah, that was definitely a good call- catches the light in all the right ways, making him look out of this world.

you’re supposed to be his manager, maintaining some form of professionalism, but damn, it’s impossible when he looks this good. especially when he runs his hand through those messy brown locks , letting a few strands fall over his face. you bite your lip, trying to focus on anything but the way your heart races when he’s on stage.

the thought of professionalism slips even further when you pull out your phone, dimming the brightness low. not for work—no, not tonight. instead, you open the app you use to connect with his fanbase under your secret username.

chogetsmewetter

it still makes you smirk every time you see it. his fans had been relentless, trying to bribe you for the username. but it’s yours, and you're not giving it up for anyone.

chogetsmewetter: are u guys seeing how good he looks… need him immediately

responses flood in almost instantly.

chososwhore: baby, nobody wants him more than i do…

choochoo: y’all send videos of the concert plzzz :(

kamosbaby: my baby daddy lookin good on stage.

you’re too caught up in scrolling through the candid photos and fan reactions, smiling like an idiot, when the makeup assistant catches you off guard.

“what’s got you smiling like that?” she teases, arms crossed and eyebrow raised.

you quickly shove your phone into your pocket, plastering on your best fake smile. “just checking cho’s schedule for next week. his brothers want to surprise him at the last show.”

it’s a lie, of course, but you’re used to spinning quick stories, and she just shrugs, moving on. but not without another jab. “girl, you love calling him cho, don’t you? does he let you call him that in bed too?”

your eyes widen as choso’s fashion designer giggles along with her. “guys, nothing’s going on. we’re strictly business—i manage his schedule, and that’s it.” but the words taste bitter, even as you force them out. nothing more. yeah, right.

the deafening cheers from the TV rescue you from any more teasing. all eyes turn to the screen as choso wraps up, thanking the crowd with that deep, velvet voice of his. the camera zooms in on his face, his lips curling into a soft smile as he waves and blows kisses to the adoring fans. gosh, he’s perfect.

a few moments later, the dressing room doors swing open, and there he is. choso, in the flesh, followed by his bodyguards. his team erupts in cheers, swarming him with praise, but you move to the back in the corner, blending into the background. moments like this are too chaotic for you, but you know you’ll have your moment later, probably on the tour bus.

amidst the chaos, his eyes find you, and he frowns a little when he sees you typing away on your phone, oblivious to the world. he doesn't know, of course, that you're replying to posts about him.

before you can finish your latest message, you feel him standing right in front of you, towering over you. the air feels thick between you two, and you curse internally as you slip your phone into your pocket once again, heart racing.

“you forgetting something?” his voice is low, teasing, as he glances down at your hands.

you quickly shake your head, trying to play it cool. “c’mon, cho, you know i’d never survive in that crowd,” you say, nodding toward the gaggle of team still dying for his attention.

his hands, cold from the stage, slide into yours, pulling you just a little closer. you swallow hard. “i knowww, but your support matters the most outta all of ‘em,” he says, rocking slightly, his lips curling into that perfect half-smile. the one that makes your stomach flip.

he smells incredible, the scent of his unreleased cologne wrapping around you, making your head spin. you smile, turning away, but he moves with you, trying to catch a glimpse of that smile.

“c’mon, let’s grab dinner. my director’s waiting,” he says, releasing your hands, and you instantly frown, missing his touch.

you follow him and his bodyguards out, offering a quick farewell to the makeup and fashion team. they don’t miss the chance to wink at you, clearly still enjoying the teasing.

as you near the exit, the noise outside grows louder—fans desperate to catch one last glimpse of choso. this is the part of the night you dread, knowing how insane the crowd can get. but when he looks over his shoulder and gives you that grin, the chaos doesn’t seem so bad.

two guards swing open the doors, harsh light flooding in as flashes from cameras blind you instantly. the screams grow deafening, and you brace yourself. this is always the worst part—being unable to see, disoriented, as the paparazzi go wild trying to capture every inch of choso’s presence.

but choso? he thrives in this. he’s in his element, beaming as he dives straight into the crowd. signing albums, posing for photos, accepting gifts—he eats it all up. you trail behind one of his bodyguards, eyes flickering to where he’s standing. your heart clenches as you catch sight of him—his lips locked with a fan.

you swallow hard. it’s not the first time. he always does this with her—his so-called “number one fan.” he remembers her face, her name, every single time. each time he kisses her in front of his adoring crowd, it feels like a punch to the gut. the fans love it. the media laps it up, turning her into a minor celebrity among his fandom.

how do you know? through your secret fan account.

you scoff quietly to yourself as you slip past the crowf, making it safely onto the tour bus. heading straight for the private area at the back, you drop your bag onto one of the leather couches, sinking into the seat by the window. from here, you can still see him outside, giving the fans hugs, taking endless photos. you watch in silence, jealousy simmering just beneath the surface.

finally, after what feels like forever, choso steps onto the bus, breathless and flushed. he walks down the aisle toward you, eyes gleaming with excitement.

“fuckkk, they’re amazing,” he groans, collapsing onto the couch beside you, still riding the high from the crowd.

they’re amazing? or she’s amazing…

you force a smile, eyes glued to your phone. “you looked like you were having fun, choso,” you mutter, distracted by your personal texts. his head drops back with a groan. one thing he can’t stand is when you don’t give him your full attention.

before he can start whining, one of the fashion designers calls your name from the front of the bus. you sigh, getting up quickly to see what the issue is. in your rush, you leave your phone behind on the couch.

choso watches as you walk away, eyes narrowing when he sees your phone lying there. you never leave it behind, always keeping it close, and curiosity gnaws at him. his leg bounces as he contemplates it. fuck it.

he snatches your phone up, eyes widening as the first thing he sees on your notification center is all he need to see.

[chogetsmewetter] new like from choochoo and 100+ others:

I need to fuck choso nowww, he’s so fuckin hot it’s not fairrr.

damn.

a slow, wicked grin spreads across his face. so that’s why you’ve been acting weird. he sets your phone back down just as he hears your footsteps returning.

you return, completely unaware of what just happened. “choso, they said we can’t leave until another hour—” you start to explain, but he’s not listening. his thoughts are elsewhere, his leg bouncing slightly as he bites the inside of his cheek.

“how do you want me to fuck you?” he suddenly blurts out, his voice low and dark.

your eyes widen, body stiffening as his bold words hit you like a train. you fumble for the curtain, pulling it shut so the driver can’t hear.

“w-what the fuck are you talking about?” you stammer, your breath catching in your throat. his dark brown eyes lock onto yours, unwavering. he doesn’t need to say it—his gaze tells you everything.

he knows.

panic rises inside you as you glance toward your phone and then back to him. he nods slowly, confirming your worst fear. he found out.

“so… are you those shy freaks…” he asks casually, standing up from the couch. his towering frame looms over you, and your world feels like it’s shrinking as he removes his leather jacket, revealing his tattooed, muscular arms.

“y-you wanna do this here? in front of the fans?” you whisper loudly, eyes darting toward the windows that are now covered by the blinds.

he chuckles, low and wicked. “you didn’t seem to care posting your dirty thoughts in front of me.”

and he ate with that one.

just like how he’s now devouring you in the back of the tour bus. you’re nestled on the couch, right in front of the curtains that separate the chaos outside from your little world. choso is on his knees, going at you like a possessed man. your legs are pushed tight against your chest as he laps up your juices, sucking and swallowing your sweet fluids. his cold nose piercing nudges your clit as his tongue thrusts deep inside you at an inhumane speed. any trace of shame has long evaporated, replaced by his loud moans vibrating against your cunt, making your eyes cross slightly.

your hands tangle in his silky brown locks, tugging gently, which earns you a whimper as he pulls back, your essence and saliva coating his chin and glossy lips. “mmm, p-pull on it more, pretty,” he urges, gazing up at you with doe eyes, brows furrowed in concentration as he loses himself in you once again.

obeying him, you tug harder on his hair, bucking your hips against his face while his hands grip the back of your thighs, pushing you deeper into your chest. he’s growling now, lost in the pleasure he’s giving you.

“yesss, f-fuck, you’re so goooddd,” you praise, head thrown back as he slurps at your juices like a starving man. he pulls away to admire your twitching hole, his fingers parting your folds wider. he spits a wad of saliva directly into your gaping pussy, making you clench instinctively as he slides in two thick digits, effortlessly gliding through your sloppy walls. his thrusts are calculated as he studies your features, which are now squeezed shut in bliss.

“hmm, she’s fuckin’ wettt,” he comments, your pussy responding with loud, squelching sounds that fill the back of the bus, echoing your mess. “hahh, you put that username to use,” he taunts, your body burning with embarrassment. his thick fingers pick up speed, massaging that sweet spot, and your back arches off the couch, your lower tummy tingling as your breath quickens.

choso can sense you’re close, the way you tighten around him. suddenly, he sucks hard on your clit, swirling his tongue around your poor nub. you cover your mouth with your hands, muffling the moans that threaten to escape .

just before you can cry out his name, he pulls his fingers out, leaving you undone. he retreats from your soaked clit, watching your translucent essence dribble down your convulsing hole, spilling onto the couch. your breath hitches as he delivers a sharp slap to your pussy, jolting electricity through your body, and the sticky remnants of your orgasm cling to his palm, igniting an insatiable addiction to your sensitivity.

“nahhh, is this the wettest you can get?” he says, rising from his knees and unzipping his jeans, pulling his throbbing cock free from its confines. your mind goes blank at the sight. fuck, he definitely never lied about his size, especially in his songs. choso sits beside you, manhandling you onto his lap, your pussy pressing against his hard cock as you whimper,

this is really happening.

“ride me, darling—use me all you want.” he states, and it feels like you’re living out your dirtiest dream, because yu are. he leaves trails of kisses along the side of your neck, his glossy lips—coated in your cum—smudging against your skin. you stare down at his shaft, his leaky tip begging to be touched. raising your hips, you grab the base of his cock, making him wince as you align his rosy tip with your drooling entrance. his crownhead stretches you open, and you whimper at how big he is with each inch you take. your velvety walls accommodate his size, practically expanding as he settles into your pussy.

without warning, choso grips your hips, slamming you down against him. you wail as every inch of his cock plunges deep inside your walls, and he moans at how tight you are around him. “f-fuck, baby, takin’ so fuckin’ l-long,” he says impatiently, thrusting up into you as each movement leaves you more dazed and breathless.

with newfound courage, your hips immediately fuck back into his, faster than his sloppy thrusts, making his eyes roll back in pleasure. your grinding drives him wild, your pussy gripping him like it’s life or death. choso’s head falls back, broken moans slipping past his lips, his adam’s apple bobbing as he struggles to hold back even more sounds of ecstasy.

you can feel the heat building between you, his cock stretching you further with each thrust. you grind down harder, relishing the way his body responds, each movement causing him to whimper and squirm beneath you. his hands grip your waist, guiding you, but you can tell he’s losing himself in the sensation, growing more ditzy with every upward thrust.

“c’mon, baby, ride me h-harder,” he begs, voice thick with desperation. his eyes fluttering as he’s moaning loudly. it’s intoxicating, watching him come undone because of you. you match your pace to the rhythm of his moans, your slickness coating him more with each thrust. the sound of your bodies slapping together drowns out the cheers of the fans outside, your pussy so noisy it’s almost too loud for your own liking.

“mmm, keep your eyes on me, pretty boy,” you purr, brushing your fingertips through his hair, tugging a big- earning a whimper at the pet name. you can see the way he bites his lip, trying to hold back more moans, but you know he won’t last long.

“hgn, you think jus’ cause you’re on top ‘m your bitch?” he groans, the tension between you two thcick. his gaze is wild, pupils dilated, and it only drives you further as you increase your pace, your hips slamming hard against his thighs, coating his throbbing base with your slickness. you giggle as he pathetically moans out, hands gripping your flesh tighter as you grind harder. his chubby tip sloppily kisses your cervix, sending shockwaves through your body as it begins to shake.

the way he reacts to every thrust, every grinding motion sends a thrill down your spine. he’s completely lost in you, his breathing ragged and unsteady. “y-you feel so good,” he stammers, voice breaking as he struggles to keep his focus, each word laced with pleasure. you smirk, feeling powerful, proud at the control you have over him.

“mhmm, ‘m starting to think y’er all talk, cho. you’re not showing me how you’d fuck me,” you taunt, leaning in his ear and tugging on his ear piercings, making him shudder at your seductive voice.

your words truly did something to him, awakening something much darker within. without hesitation, he carelessly picks you up, sliding his cock out of your hole as he slams you against the table adjacent to the couch. bending you over, he realigns himself with your hypnotizing cunt, the air thick with the heat of your lust. choso slams his entire length into your pussy, the sound of slickness echoing in the cramped space as your body squelches loudly, both of you moaning in unison. he grips your hips tightly, pounding mercilessly into you, each thrust sending shockwaves through your body as you cry out, not caring if the bus driver or any staff hears your cries of pleasure.

“cunt so good,” he growls, feeling you clamp down hard on his girthy length. his moan resonates deep within your core as he swats your ass, the sound of skin meeting skin sending electric jolts through you. he feels like he’s deep in your guts, rearranging everything inside you, each thrust making your pussy squelch obscenely. it’s so loud that it drowns out any sounds from outside, the wet slaps of your bodies merging into a symphony of lust. you’re practically squeaking like a damn mouse with every thrust, your body unable to contain the pleasure coursing through you.

without warning, he grips your hair and pulls you up against him, his mouth brushing against your ear as he whispers, “take it all, mama. you can take it.” his words send a shiver down your spine, the duality of his sweet yet dominating tone intensifying your arousal. you nod, feeling yourself surrender completely to him, wanting nothing more than to be his.

“m-more cho’ ,” you whine, and he responds with a primal growl, his hips slamming into yours harder, faster, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. his movements are relentless, each thrust a story to his desire, his need for you. you can feel the tension coiling tighter within you, the pressure building to a breaking point.

but then, in the midst of your euphoric bliss, you slowly open your eyes, and your jaw drops in shock. he placed you directly in front of the window, where all the fans are just outside, oblivious to the scandalous scene unfolding inside. the reality of the moment crashes over you, and you gasp, suddenly aware of the possibility of being seen.

“c-cho… the—fuckk—the fans,” you manage to warn, your entire body jolting with his relentless thrusts, each one motivating him to go even faster, to claim you harder.

“nahh, now you wanna back out?” he snarls through gritted teeth, going absolutely feral. his grip tightens as he reaches to grab the back of your hair, pulling you flush against his chest, forcing you to take him deeper. the blinds rattle as he yanks them open wider, letting in more light for the fans to see everything happening inside. the flashes from paparazzi cameras blind your vision as they snap multiple shots of your fucked out expression, choso grinning behind like a devil at each click.

“say cheese, pretty. you’re gonna be a star,”

[one-eternal-sigh]

And what if Bella, who wanted to marry someone of her own choice, Bella who had hated being pushed around and so often fell out with her parents about it because for merlin’s sake, she was a bright witch, and she valued family ideals deeply but no, she wouldn’t let them do this to her, wouldn’t lose this form of control.

Bella who agreed to a wedding as a means of strategy, to strike a deal with her parents, or just to get them off her back, to rise as a death eater, to commit herself to the power, for that delicious, delicious control.

Bella who stares at her reflection for hours before her wedding because it has finally, truly dawned on her what she’s getting herself into, setting aside the cool detachment and practical success of the strategy, there is the cold reality of the fact that she’s marrying a man she doesn’t love.

Bella who smiles through it because it’s her plan and if she got herself into it, she damn well can’t be caught lacking. Bella who will hold her head high, because she won’t admit it even to herself that it’s killing her inside a little. That something in her is a little uncertain about her choice.

Narcissa who was so happy for Bellatrix on her wedding day, only to burst out crying the day after because this means Bellatrix is moving, Bellatrix is leaving her. Narcissa feeling so overjoyed for Bellatrix because she seems happy (idk if she is) and she looks so happy she’s leaving the house but Narcissa realising this means she’ll be on her own and she won’t have anyone to ever go to. 

It doesn’t even matter that Bellatrix will only be a apparation away, she’s gone. She’s not in that house anymore, it’s only Narcissa now, and god does Narcissa feel alone. 

[hoshigray]

꯳⃘꤫⃛✿ contents: soft dom! true form! Sukuna x afab! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - anal fingering - oral (f! receiving) - double penetration; anal & vaginal (2 dick! kuna) - missionary position - unprotected sex - pet names ([little] dove, human, pet) - soft sloppy kisses/make-out session.

“Stay still, pet.”

"Yes, Sukuna..."

Let's be real: Sukuna going gentle on you is borderline imaginary – a fantasy that contrasts with the brutality and selfish-centeredness of the King of Curses. However, it’s a sensational moment on the rare nights he is.

The King has you propped below him, back to his futon, and his front facing his. Your lips quiver as you scan across the view, his broad torso engulfing you easily as his lower arms slide you lower. His bare cocks tower over your vulva, the twitch of your insides embarrassing to your notice.

His fingers in your ass have you gripping the sheets beneath, the thick digits stretching you in ways you could never. Fingertips scrape the texture of your insides, whimpers wishing to leave your chewed lips. A tongue on his palm flattens across your cunt, nestling between your inner labia to have every surface wet. It’s been a few minutes of this foreplay, having you accustomed to the thicker limbs he’d bury inside you shortly.

Sukuna then removes his fingers slowly before kissing the tip of the upper cock to your folds and the other to your anus. He catches the minuscule quirk of your thighs. “Don’t move, dove, or this will hurt.” Your eyes glimpse at him and nod — a hesitant gesture yet obedient nonetheless. He’s pleased; a curl to the corner lifts his lips. “Good, now take some breaths for me…”

Crimson orbs observe your stomach, watching the rise and fall of your tummy, assessing the right time. Then, he pushes both cockheads to the entrances simultaneously, another jerk of your body, but you keep breathing. The giant man grasps his dicks while pressing them, groaning at the sensation of your warmth greeting him. “Fuck…” he curses while you gasp, moving them deeper into you. Your hands find his marked pectorals to hold, your legs held up by his thighs almost wrapped together.

“Hooooh, God, Sukuna,” you mewl at the brush of your G-spot and the wholeness of both your holes. “So big…and, f-full…Ahhh!!” The poke of your cervix shuts your eyes immediately, turning your head away instinctively.

However, “Hmph, who told you to look away?” Sukuna’s lower left hand grabs your chin and have you look his way again. “Keep your eyes on me, human, understand?” Albeit the atmosphere is anything but hostile, his intense gaze halts your breath, and your cheeks heat up. You nod curtly, and the pink-haired man moves his hips again. 

Sukuna thrusts into you sluggishly; each pull of his cocks leaves you experiencing the stretch of his girths with every second,  and the push of him stirs your insides just as rapturously as the last. Your lips fall to an ‘o’ shape, and your moans more uncomplicated to fly out with your panted breath. The flex of his abdomen is marvelous to watch, the pleasure intensifying even when the mouth of his stomach licks your belly gently.

Your eyes continue to scan, taking in every detail of the dark tattoos on his skin and the quick tension of his upper arm muscles. How the sunset light is shielded from the shoji frames highlights his massive body, almost as if he came out of a painting. And then — dear God — his four deep scarlet eyes fixed on you, misty with wanton, and his sole human-like eye hooded gorgeously. Again, you turn away, the image too much to handle! And, of course, the behemoth laughs hoarsely with his stomach mouth.

“What did I just say?” He warns you, a smirk stuck on his face as he thrusts again harshly. “Too stubborn to follow a simple order.”

“I-I’m sorry,” you whine from another jab to your womb, and your anus contracts around his second girth. “You just…look too—Ahhaa!!”

He lowers down – the bands of his upper arms come to hold your head. “Too what?” A few more thrusts have your legs around his waist, and the man holding back a laugh that rumbles his stomach like a purr.

“Ohhnn, ‘Kunaa!!”

“Answer me, pet.” He forces you to look at him again. “Why aren’t you looking at me?”

You gulp thickly, the heat on your face worsening under his patronizing temperament. “Because…you look so good when you use me—shit—l-like this…”

He chortles again, and you wish to hide your ears from the sound. “What a stupid reason for disobeying me,” your breath hitches when he kisses your forehead and nose. “But I guess that explains why you’re squeezing me so hard…Hm? You get all shy when looking at how good I fuck you?”

Sukuna’s pace of the hips goes faster, and your hands frantically find his shoulders to purchase. Broken sobs fill the intimate space between you, his heavy balls smacking onto your taint as he drills his dicks so far into you that you can’t keep up. “Ohhhfuuck, oh fuck, fuck!!” You cry, Sukuna adding more weight by placing his substantial forehead onto yours. “Nmmm, ‘Kuna, I’m gonna cum—let me cum on you pleaseee…!”

The giant sighs heavily, groaning at your frequently puckered holes. “You wish to cum on me?” You nod frantically, and he purrs as he brushes his lips onto yours. “Fine, you may.” Before that, he claims your lips with his, and you mewl underneath him as he forces himself to kiss you patiently — in exchange for having you let loose on him.

You sink deeper into the kiss, swirling your tongue with his, exploring his canines, and meshing together with his tongue before he sucks on yours. Compared to the erratic cadence of his hips, the flex of his abs growing feverish, the kiss is comforting, smothering you to the point you’d be breathless, yet you don’t wish to hide the whimpers he’s causing you to make. It makes you wetter and tighter, and you soon fall into your orgasm.

The peak leaves you as a wailing mess, Sukuna drinking your screams and saliva even when your body is trembling uncontrollably. Eyes sewn shut but hiding the roll of your pupils; your brain undoubtedly turned to mush as it hurts to think outside of kissing the man above you and your vagina and asshole fluttering on the two massive lengths buried deep inside you. The tip of his cock grazes your delicate womb once more, his pelvis grinding down for deeper spots to rub on.

“Little dove,” Sukuna lifts his mouth from yours, licking your spit on his lips before you pepper his hot cheek with pecks of your own. “What should you be saying?”

“Mmmm…thank you, Sukuna,” you whisper between smooches. “You always treat me…Hahhh, so well…”

He scoffs faintly to your ear. “And don’t you forget that.”

© HOSHIGRAY2024 – reblogs and comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ⊹ dividers by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more.

[ja3hwa]

♡ 𝐒𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐓𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 | 𝐊𝐇𝐉 ♡

Day Five - Gentle sex

【Synopsis】 : Your loving husband just needed some extra care, and being an amazing wife, you were more than willing to provide.

『Word count』 : 2.02k

-> Genre: Smut. Producer au

Pairing: Husband!Hongjoong x Wife!Reader

[Warnings] : Heavy praise. Slightly subbish Hongjoong, but not really. The reader wants to worship joong, but he wants to do that to her. It's just a bunch of loving cuties. Lingerie. Kissing, making out. Swearing. Oral (both rec). slight cum play. Switches all round. Dirty talk. Body worship. This shit is sappy. Hair pulling. Unprotected sex. I swear I’m never this lovey dovey so if its bad please ignore me. ahhh

Note: Thank you to the sweetest Lilo aka @seonghwaddict for this amazing plot idea. I was so stuck until you helped me, hehe.

Networks: @cromernet @atzhouse @illusionnet @wonderlandnet @k-vanity

Masterlist | Navigation | Kinktober list | Tip Jar ♡

His eyes could barely stay open, while his mind kept wandering off to la la land. One more hour… thirty more minutes. Just another five and he will be happy. But Hongjoong was anything but happy. This song was unbelievably frustrating and he wanted nothing more than to just simply throw it in the trash. But he won't. He couldn’t do such a thing. Argh but why not, who cares it’s not like his whole team is counting on him or anything….

His phone dinged for the hundredth time tonight. Mostly, you, again. He promised to be home earlier. You told him not to promise such a thing, but he did anyway. He needed to give you that promise. But as his screen lit up with a little message reading ‘I love you’ and the clock saying one, he knew the promise was broken. You were more than understanding, knowing what his job was like. How odd hours were normal. But that still didn’t make it right. It didn’t take his guilt away, promise or not.

“You should go home.” Hongjoong almost jumped out of his seat when his boss suddenly knocked on the table. He was so lost in his own thoughts he didn’t even see the other man walk in. “I’m sure your wife misses you.”

“She does…But I’m almost done with the arrangement for Monday. I just need—Hongjoong, enough, the boys aren't debuting until five months from now. You need rest. I’ll get Maddox to look over what you’ve got on Monday but for now...” Mr Matthews cuts Hongjoong off quickly, silencing the producer.

“But I—No buts. Maddox will help you on Monday. As of right NOW you have the weekend off, de-stress. Come back here when you have at least had eight hours of sleep.” and with that the man left, leaving no room for argument from Hongjoong.

-

The drive home was long. Longer than Hongjoong wished, he swore he got stopped at every traffic light on the street. But two hours later, finally, he was home. Punching in the code in the key lock, he tried his best to be quiet. Taking off his shoes softly, before setting them gently on the rack. Placing his keys and such on the counter with not much of a sound. He could see the dining table was empty… again. You most likely put the leftovers in the fridge and like the sad excuse of a husband he is, he would munch on them quickly before waddling to the bed, begging for forgiveness. Even though you never ask for it. You were always so caring, so loving. He didn’t deserve you.

“So are you gonna mope in front of that fridge all night, or am I going to get a hello.” Your voice scared the daylights out of him. Jumping visibly, he shut the fridge absurdly, making a loud echo in the kitchen. Your smile didn’t falter at his actions. In fact, it grew. Your arms were crossed, pushing your breasts up as you took in a deep breath. You were nervous. But Hongjoong didn’t catch on.

“I’m sorry honey I thought you were….” His breath was knocked out of him when he laid eyes on you. His beautiful wife. The nightgown you had chosen to wear tonight wasn’t any ordinary one, no, it had dark emerald green fabric, tight around your bust and flowed out as it hit your mid-stomach. The bra and panties underneath matched making you look like the perfect little present for only him to unwrap. “…Asleep.”

“I wanted to wait for you.” You spoke softly, taking a small step towards him. Hongjoong was lost for words, slight panic was invading his senses. Did he miss something? An anniversary? A special date? No, even though he was a workaholic he would never miss something…right? Your hands moved to his shoulders, making the man let out a shaky breath. He didn’t know what to do, so instead, he just simply froze. “God, your eyes look like they are about to pop out of your head. Calm down, soldier. There’s no war.”

Your voice seemed to calm him, feeling his shoulders relax and his head soft tip forward. His forehead met yours as he closed his eyes, taking in the moment. “I thought I forgot something. I..I’m sorry.”

“Hey now.” You gently cupped his face, your thumb softly rubbing over his cheek. “I just felt like dressing up. And you’ve been so busy with work. You have nothing to be sorry about. I’m proud of you, that's all. You know that right?”

God, Hongjoong can feel his eyes begin to water and his throat tighten. You had to be an angel, he was now fully convinced. You were perfect in every way, there was no other explanation. “I love you so much, you have no idea.”

“Oh, I could come up with a few ideas.” You give him a cheeky remark before kissing his cheek gently before the corner of his mouth, then finally on his lips. The relieving sigh he let out would normally embarrass him but he had grown to ignore the noise you always managed to make him do. In fact he has begun to like them.

“We should go to bed…” He murmured against you, letting your tongue slip into his mouth. His hands flew to your hips, tugging you closer in a desperate attempt to feel more of your body's warmth. He’ll never get over the feeling you give him every time you’re near.

You gently pulled away, smiling as you watched Hongjoong chase your lips. But your hot breath mixing with his along with his forehead now seemingly glued to yours made him feel content enough to take a moment to breathe. “Well go on then, honey… Take me to bed.”

He tugged you by your hand, leading you towards your cozy little room. It wasn’t much but you and Hongjoong had managed to make the perfect nest just for the two of you. He felt the edge of the bed hit the back of his knees as he pulled you flush against him. His fingers grazed over the erotic fabric, feeling every bit of lace that lugged your goddess-like figure. All the while you started to undress your lover boy. Removing his shirt, before unlooping his belt, his lips found yours once again as he sweetly swallowed every breath and sigh you made.

“Lay back, baby.” You cooed against Joong’s lips, gently pushing him until he fell onto the bed with a small ‘oof’. he shimmied out of his pants ungracefully, making you giggle a little before he shuffled onto the middle of the bed. You took your gown off, leaving yourself in only your bra and panties. Hongjoongs' eyes couldn't tear themselves away from your under garments, growing harder by the second. “Relax..”

Your sombre voice melted his nerves as he felt you remove his boxers just enough that his cock sprung free. He bit his lip in anticipation as you slowly wrapped your hand around his shaft, moving at a pace that was enough pleasure to ease his mind but not enough for him to come. “Such a hard worker. Always staying back late. Going above and beyond for others. You are so perfect.”

Your praises caused tears to pool in Hongjoongs eyes as he choked on his own breath. Your tongue licked a strip along his tip making his whole body shiver. His eyes fluttered close properly for the first time this evening, your mouth working miracles on him. A part of him was tugging for a switch in positions. He was the one that was supposed to be praising you, giving you all the love, but here you were squeezing his cock just right, causing his hips to buck staggeringly into your warm mouth. “Fuck, angel. I-I need you...”

He couldn’t hold himself together like he does most nights, feeling him tip over the edge quicker than he would have normally liked. His hot cum spilled into your waiting mouth. You swallowed it quickly before your lover grabbed you by the back of your arms, tugging you up further onto the bed. Even with his tired limbs, he managed to throw you onto your back so he could climb on top of you.

“My beautiful angel. My god send. the only thing in my life that makes sense.” his lips trailed down your body with every word, kissing every part of flesh he could reach. His hands delicately stripped you of your bra and panties in a quick desperation of need. Craving to finally have his favourite meal. “My wife. My pretty little tease. The only person that can make me cum so fucking fast.”

“Fuck…” You whimpered beneath him at his filthy remarks. If there was one thing Hongjoong knew it was that you loved to be verbally praised…and degraded. His lips latched onto your thighs suckling harsh marks in its wake. He loved to see you with his love bites all over, knowing you’d be walking in public with only him knowing what was hidden under your beautiful outfits.

“I love you so much.” His hot breath danced around your core, your hips bucking for friction. He couldn’t help but smirk at the raw neediness you had for him, even after all these years of marriage. You both have never stopped wanting each other. He flattened his tongue on you, licking upwards in one swift motion before sucking sharply on your clit. You gasped loudly, hands flying to your husband's soft locks. Your fingers tangled themselves before tugging causing a growl from him. His fingers traced over your stretch marks, and tummy blemishes for snaking their way down onto your thigh, giving the plump flesh a nice squeeze. Everything about you was perfect, down to the way your heart beat.

You are his everything.

“I love you Joong. So, so much.” You felt yourself slipping closer towards the edge. Hongjoong noticed as well, dipping his hand between both your bodies before sinking two fingers into your aching cunt. A relieving sigh left your lips as you felt the curled-up pleasure finally letting go. Your hips shuttered against your lover, feeling yourself let go, coming all over his face with a silent scream. Hongjoong’s giggle against you caused a tingle to spike up your spine, he loved it when you came while he ate you out. “I need you, please.”

It was your turn to whimper those three words, grabbing Hongjoong by his shoulders, you pulled him up until his wet pussy drunk face was inches from yours. His lips tasted of you, and his tongue even more so. Every sense in your body craved for this moment to last forever. Without breaking the kiss, Hongjoong opened your legs, hooking each over his waist before lining himself up to your dripping cunt. “I love you.” He whispered again, meaning it just as much as he did the first time he ever spoke the phrase to you. His thick cock sunk in slowly until he completely bottomed you out. And in that moment it was like the world had stopped. Nothing else mattered anymore.

It was just you and him.

“I love you too.” You replied against his swollen lips, feeling complete with him by your side.

—

© 𝐉𝐚𝟑𝐡𝐰𝐚. Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, repost, or use my work in any way, shape, or form.

𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐑 : 𝑇𝐻𝐼𝑆 𝐼𝑆 𝐼𝑁 𝑁𝑂 𝑊𝐴𝑌 𝐴 𝑇𝑅𝑈𝐸 𝐷𝐸𝑃𝐼𝐶𝑇𝐼𝑂𝑁 𝑂𝐹 𝑇𝐻𝐸 𝐴𝑇𝐸𝐸𝑍 𝑀𝐸𝑀𝐵𝐸𝑅𝑆. 𝑇𝐻𝐼𝑆 𝐼𝑆 𝑃𝑈𝑅𝐸 𝐹𝐼𝐶𝑇𝐼𝑂𝑁 𝐴𝑁𝐷 𝐼𝑆 𝑁𝑂𝑇 𝑇𝑂 𝐵𝐸 𝑇𝐴𝐾𝐸𝑁 𝑆𝐸𝑅𝐼𝑂𝑈𝑆𝐿𝑌.

[seozii]

──── ❝ BIG BABY ❞ 🧍👶

He was the tall and energetic one, you were the short and calm one. That’s basically golden retriever x black cat right?

⸝♡ fluff, est.relationship, golden retriever x black cat, teasing, 643 WC, 𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑

“Omg stay still will you?” You complained with a serious expression at the taller male who let shaking his head and wincing in pain to every touch made by your hand and his wound.

“How can I when it hurts so bad?” He sobbed quietly glaring at the bottle of ointment in your hand.

“Ugh you’re such a baby” you smirked feeling a bit inferior after knowing small things like this made him cry.

It was honestly crazy to you how a whole tall and intimidating looking person like him was actually a big baby under those covers. “I’m done now stop crying will you?” You asked reaching out your hands to gently wipe away the tears on his face, getting caught up in his beauty for a moment. “You look like a clown” you randomly blurted out, laughing at his pouty face.

“Hey?!!! I do not. You’re just a mean person” he huffed quietly folding his arms over his chest, clearly offended. “But thank you so much! I love you!” He beamed excitedly pulling you into a big tight hug, burying your head deep in his shoulders

“Hey let me go, your hug is so hard” you muffled in his shoulders trying to break free from the tight hug.

“No. I want to keep hugging you” he declined pulling you even closer. “Plus, I love the feeling of your smaller body on mine” he teased, giggling at your flustered reaction. “Ahhh you’re so cute when you’re flustered” he smiled lightly pinching your cheeks.

“Shut up” you muttered under your breath.

—

A loud sigh of relief escaped your lips, a small smile tugging the corner as the cool evening breeze made contact with your skin.

Over to your side was Jake skipping Happily like a child who had no worries in his life.

You hate to admit it but Most times when Jake acts like an energetic little puppy you can’t seem to bring yourself into ignoring him. He was just too adorable but of course your personality wouldn’t let you admit it.

Up ahead was a small ice cream shop that seemed to be having a bit of discount off their prices today.

You thought it was a good idea to take Jake over there and maybe give him a nice treat for once. He was always the one buying things for you sometimes so why not let the tables turn around.

“Hey umm.. Jake would you like some ice cream?” You asked staring into his eyes, your expression lightly softened.

He gasped, “omg! Yes I will love an ice cream right now. Rahhh you read my mind” he jumped up and down excitedly which was nothing but an adorable sight.

You let yourself get carried away adoring Jake that you didn’t know when words slipped out of your mouth. ‘Cute’ you accidentally mumbled but loud enough catching Jake off guard.

His eyes widened at your sudden words, his lips slowly curling up into a smirk. “What did you say? I swear I heard you say cute” he chuckled in clear disbelief.

It was very rare of you to express your love and affection with things like “words of love, physical touch” and much rather by buying gifts or doing small touching actions that looked meaningless to some people. All that matters to you was, your partner felt loved and appreciated.

Of course you wouldn’t blame Jake for acting that way.

“I- i- n-no ugh just forget it!” You rolled your eyes staring at the ground with a flustered look. “Come on let’s go inside” you ushered him into the store in front of you.

“Ahhhh you’re so down bad” he giggled teasing you, capturing your hands in his, like it was an everyday thing.

“Shut up” you shushed him.

[drgnflyteabox]

something to remember you by

pairing: soap x fem reader summary: your boyfriend wants some memorabilia of you to take on his deployments. only, he wants his superior officer to take the photos. w.c: 3.7k tags/warnings: dubcon, cucking, mild degradation, oral (m + f, rough), hair pulling, un-negotiated kink, dom!soap, clothed man naked reader, teasing scent kink (m + f), one (1) pussy slap, crying, squirting, unprotected sex, some anxiety, reassurance mid-fuck, overstimulation, some aftercare, abrupt but open ending, reader has some internal shame around sex/kink, reader doesn't rlly like her bf

At first, it’s nothing. Dirty talk, suggestive texts, passing comments while he’s on his second deployment with a hand around his cock and you pretending to be into it.

"Think about it, babe," he’s panting, but it’s less sexy when you can tell he’s deepening his voice on purpose like Christian Bale Batman. "Don’t you wanna give me something to remember you by? While I’m out here fighting for you?"

Corny. So fucking corny. Your feet are kicked up on your coffee table, fuzzy-socked, face schlopped with a cooling gel mask. Quarter past 8 o’clock, and he’s trying to sell you on letting one of his army buddies fuck you and take pictures of you. The absurdity makes you almost laugh.

"…babe?" Oh, shit.

"Yeah honey, I’m here." You’d kind of feel bad, if it weren’t for the ick factor. It wasn’t that you didn’t like him, he was fine, it was just that since he’d joined the army he’d inched closer and closer to picking up a mic and dictating which body counts were okay to women over podcasts. That, and he’s gotten hornier. Kinkier.

Which is fine, really. Only you don't consider yourself adventurous. Sex is like a chore, something to put you to sleep, to relax the muscles. Relationships are quid pro quo - I suck your dick, you make my parents think I’m succeeding in life, deal?

Not to mention, you've never even considered stepping outside of the idea that sex is between committed couples only, sequestered away and hidden in the closet like old clothes.

"So, are you picturing it?" Schlap schlap schlap. He must’ve added lotion. "You can say no obviously, ughnnn, but I know this guy really well. I'd, ahhh fuck, sit in the other room."

"Thanks for being so considerate," you sound dry, but you’re honestly intrigued. Life has been monotonous since graduation, the transition from study to office… rough.

You aren’t adventurous. But you’re so fucking bored.

"Can I see him first?" On the TV in front of you, muted, Matthew Macfayden confesses his love tearfully in the rain. You want to be bewitched, body and soul. To feel something.

"So you’ll do it? Oh, fuck-" Not what I said, you think. His voice goes high, reedy, trembling with his orgasm. "See how fucking hot this makes me? I’ll send a pic, give me a sec."

It’s a group photo. He’s dressed in his uniform, head shaved, standing next to a group of a dozen or so men. Outlined, at the far corner with a group of guys big enough to dwarf a good third of the rest, is a man with building biceps and a smarmy grin and a confident, wide-legged pose. Hips jutted out. Fuck, he’s hot. You can see his bulge through his pants, through the picture, under a heavy tac vest.

"Get in, get in!" the apartment is clean for once. At least, clean without you getting sick of his clutter and playing maid. Did he do it himself to impress his friend? That makes you snort, but he doesn’t catch it, too preoccupied with his phone.

"Um, woah-" you start, taken aback. It looks like a porn set. There’s a plastic sheet on the ground in front of the couch. "I thought this was supposed to be casual?"

"It is, babe," he’s brushing you off, same as he did the few days leading up to this. You’d gone through some minor confidence and judgment crises, anxiety building like a balloon about to pop. All of which he’d brushed off.

It’s all fun and games, babe. Plus he’s done this before, he’s like a pro, showed me some videos - that was something you hadn't agreed to, just some pictures for him to take on deployments.

Still, trepidation makes you sweat, makes your thighs stick to the brown leather couch when you sit and try to sip water. Your socks crinkle the sheet.

You don’t turn when he arrives, still too nervous, knees stuck together and hands slipping on the glass from condensation when they start talking behind you. There’s too many what ifs - all reasons you’d used to avoid hookups in college, all reasons you wanted to break through your shell now.

Plus, you’re sick of hearing "did you finish?"

"This must be her," says an accented voice, gruff and maybe amused, "ye feelin' shy?"

No. You’re just nervous. Exposed. One of the only conditions you'd pushed was no cuck chair, but now you weren't sure how to feel to be left alone with him soon. This man is so big, so imposing.

"Hi," you say smartly. He looks just like his photo, only bigger. Bulging muscles and the same wide stance when he comes to stand in front of you. It’s only because you can’t stand sitting face-to-face with his crotch that you stand and hold your hand out to shake.

"And polite!" Loud. He introduces himself as Johnny, which makes your boyfriend's eyebrows raise. "So cute." he takes the liberty of bypassing your hand and grabbing your waist.

Oh fuck, he runs hot. His hands burn, even through your shirt. You feel self-conscious, plain, looking up at his probing blue eyes. They’re so intense, captivating, distracting you from the feeling of him getting closer and closer, till your tits are pressed to his.

"Hey-"

The moment breaks. Your boyfriend is looking at you both, unreadable expression on his face. Is he regretting this? Feeling emasculated, maybe? Hard to feel much sympathy when you’re the one about to get fucked.

And it was his idea.

"I’m gonna go to the bedroom," his eyes squint, flitting between the both of you before he scurries away, pants tented.

"Now that that's outta the way," Johnny grunts. "C'mere." And sits down with a grunt, pulling you to him.

You try to pivot, to sit next to him, but he's strong and coordinated so you wind up in his lap, back touching the arm of the couch and your legs slung over his, bum on one thigh.

"That's more like it, no?" there's that wolfish grin again, so close. One hand rests on your knee, possessively, while the other wraps around your shoulders and plays with your shirt. "Why don't we introduce ourselves?"

The hand on your knee moves to your face, gripping your cheeks in a grip hard enough to push your lips out into an embarrassing pout. You struggle a little, pulling at his wrist, but he doesn't budge.

He pulls his phone out, aiming the camera at your face, recording a video through a text-app. You can that it's a groupchat, assured by your boyfriend before that it was totally private, babe. This is jut between us.

"Now say hello," he puts his stubbly cheek next to yours, rubbing like a cat. "And introduce yourself."

"H'llo," you struggle through it, muffled by his grip. Your name is almost unintelligible, and your jaw starts to ache a little.

"Say, can I please suck your cock, sir?"

Your stomach tightens, right down to your pussy, which gushes a little into your panties.

"Cn'I please suck your cock, sir?" he's so fucking forward, just jumping in headfirst. The loss of control, your being told what to do, makes your clit jump. Sex has never been like this - you've never been so acquiescing.

"Of course you can, bonnie!" you're almost tossed to the floor, no gentleness as he pulls you toward him by the hair so quickly it almost makes you dizzy. He scoots to the edge of the couch, leaning back against it, and uses that strong arm to rub your face on his bulge. "Get me hard."

He puts his phone on the arm of the couch.

You flounder, hands finding his knees and trying to pull back. He doesn't let you.

"Use your mouth, kiss me," his hand finds a firmer hold on your hair as you start mouthing against him, tasting denim, smelling his musk, letting it get to your head and make you dizzy. "That's right, kitten."

His cock starts to chub under his clothes, and you almost wish you could feel it in your mouth. Oral isn't your favourite, but the way your pussy clenches around nothing and drips into your panties is making you think maybe you were wrong about yourself.

"Up, up," your face is rubbed a little raw by the time you sit up, looking at him. Waiting for instruction. "Everything off, except your panties."

You obey, stripping your shirt and bra and then your shorts. Your nipples tighten in the cool air of the apartment, goosebumps dancing along your arms and your belly. Self-consciousness almost has you reaching to cover yourself, until Johnny grabs you by the shoulders and twists you just enough that you're back to facing his phone.

"Look at these," he grunts in your ear, fingers finding your nipples. Pulling them, pinching them. It's not for you, it's for the camera. You feel like an object, an accessory, secondary to getting the shot of the rough pads of his fingers teasing you into whimpers.

You've never been more turned on.

"Nice, eh?" he pulls them up and out, which hurts, but draws a line of pure electricity from your nipples to your clit. "Whatd'ye think, L.T?" the name doesn't register. Army stuff, you assume.

You're turned back around sharply again to face his actual cock. He's pulled it from his fly, thick and leaking, while you were getting undressed. It's unfair, really, nice and long and curved.

"Ask me again," a statement. A command, phone discarded.

"Please can I suck your cock, sir?" the words make your cheeks burn, your body quiver, your clit jump.

"Ye can," laughter this time, worsening your embarrassment. His hand finds your hair again, pulling you down when you're too slow to touch your lips to the head of his dick. "I'm gonnae fuck your face, alright?"

Without waiting, he lifts his hips up and thrust into your mouth. It's not as deep as it can go, but you almost gag, unprepared. The next thrust is deeper, quicker. He's letting you build up to it, letting your hands rest on his knees for balance.

Your nose touches his pubic hair, inhaling the scent of him. Any attempt at hollowing your cheeks, sucking, licking, is futile. He's so quick that the best you can do is hang on for the ride, keeping your teeth in check.

Drool builds and spills past your lips, making wet sounds compete with his frankly pornographic moaning. He's a man possessed, using you while you squeeze your eyes against overwhelmed tears.

Finally he yanks you off of him by the hair, holding you up while you splutter from the unexpected change. Your hands go to your face, trying to wipe.

"None o'that, now," he bats them away, giving you a shake when you keep trying. "Leave it." like you're a bad dog.

Strings of spit connect your swollen lips to his cock, thin and gooey, that fall to your bare chest when he sits up.

You're turned, stood up and then guided to the couch to sit. Johnny slaps your thighs to get you to open them, lifting your feet for you so that your heels rest on the edge of the couch cushions.

"Awe, look how wet she is," he holds your legs, exposing your wet panties to him and to his phone, where he takes a few pictures. Again, you wonder about the appeal of this for your boyfriend. It's hot for you. Degrading, but hot. Or maybe more hot because of the degradation.

"Oh god," you say out of shock. You've never been so fucking wet in your life, and god forbid he sees how swollen with arousal you are underneath.

"Naw, just me," Johnny says, rubbing his knuckles over your pussy through the fabric. "She all wet and frustrated?"

You don't answer, hands keeping you sat up, chest heaving. You're still a little dizzy.

Johnny licks over your panties, mouthing over them not unlike what you did for him only a few minutes before. It's nothing, really, but you're so worked up that it startles a long, drawn-out moan from you.

He continues like this, never actually making contact with where you need it, with your skin. Every one in a while he turns his head to the side and grins, taking a picture or a videoclip while you tip your head back and resist begging him to just get on with it.

His nose presses on your mound, where he drags it down to your hole and sniffs.

That's what breaks your resolve.

"Please," you whine. Your voice is rough from taking his cock in your throat.

"Please what?" he opens his mouth and puts his teeth on you, not biting, just letting you feel them. Gnawing gently.

"Please do it," you look down at him, and even though he's on his knees you know you aren't the one in control. "Please lick my cunt."

A laugh, mean and condescending. Your eyes close in shame, pussy burning for attention.

"This cunt right here?" he pulls the gusset aside, whistling. "This desperate little cunt?"

"Yes, please," you curl your toes into the couch.

Something shifts in his eyes, some unrecognizable flash. It feels like danger, like you're in over your head. Johnny takes two fingers and rubs them over your clit, slowly at first, and then quickly when he feels how slippery you are.

Somewhere, a volcano erupts and it isn't comparable to the heat or the feeling of your clit finally getting attention. It zings through you, making you squeeze your muscles, taught and trembling.

The pads of his fingers are a rough sensation on your swollen skin, the worlds best vibrator, ribbed for your pleasure. All he does is rub, up and down over your clit, quickly and until your face starts to scrunch together in orgasm, trembling hard.

Then he pulls back and slaps you so hard on your pussy you scream.

You almost come from it, shocked, legs kicking out, skin burning and clit pulsing with desperation, back bowing. You keep making sound after, a long and drawn out aaaaaahhhhh while he grins like the cat that got the cream. Takes another picture, the click of the camera loud in the face of your disappointment.

The intensity of it almost brings you to tears, looking at him with betrayal and vulnerability in your face. You feel weak all of a sudden, cored, devoured, pulled apart as soft as slow cooked meat.

Your panties fall back over your skin, a minor comfort against the sting.

"Poor girl," Johnny says with false sympathy. "Let me make it up to ye."

Then you're up again, pulled and pressed against Johnny's chest until he pulls your underwear down and rearranges you to sit on his lap over his spread legs, yours dangling on either side.

"Gonna bounce ye on my cock, alright?" you nod. "Sit on it."

You lift your hips, using his knees for balance, and he guides the head of his cock to your hole. Stops you from sitting back right away with a hand on your hip, squeezing the soft flesh there, and holding you there.

"They're kissing," he laughs. You feel it, your cunt mouthing at him like a conscious being, separate from you. "Ye think they want tae meet each other?"

"Can I?" you don't fight to keep the whine out of your voice. You want to come, you want this aching and this emptiness to end.

"Can ye what?"

"Sit on your cock, please."

"Well, since ye asked so nicely," and then he notches himself properly again, and forces you down with two hands on your waist. You shout, arching, head thrown back. "Bounce on it now, kitten. Show me how badly ye want to come."

And oh god, you do. You rock forward, shaking at the feeling of him, no technique to guide you just pure intuition, brain and cunt and body as one. Distantly, the sound of the camera registers, but it only makes you move faster.

He spreads your cheeks, exposing where you're connected, putting the camera close to the wet clench of your cunt around his cock and - oh, he's filming it. There's no click, just the wet sounds of you riding him.

"Thas'right," he murmurs lowly, maybe for show. "You wanna come?"

"Yes!" you lean back, then, sweat slicked back sticking to his shirt, forgetting where you are and why you're here. Everything narrows down to your pussy, but you feel compelled to keep your hands off your clit even though you know it would make you come quickly.

You want to listen to him, to wait for permission. The thought is searing heat through your core.

Fingers find your face, slipping into your mouth. Your lips wrap around them, sucking like you would've his cock.

His other hand lifts his phone in front of you both, snapping shots of your unfocused eyes, your tits pushed into the air, his smarmy expression. He hooks his fingers then into your cheek, pulling back like a fishhook.

"Good girl," his lips against your ear, stubble scratching the hot skin of your neck. "I'm gonna fuck you for real now, alright?"

You nod, desperately. He pushes you up and off of him, face down in the cushion. He's still clothed, for gods sake, jeans rubbing against the backs of your thighs when he drags your ass back toward him.

The mushroom head of his cock finds your cunt again, pushing in, driving you nuts. You're moaning helplessly, letting him take your boneless arms to hold them behind you.

He fucks you like a man possessed, in a short strokes, barely leaving the hot clutch of your pussy. The sounds, if they were bad before, are worse now, wet and humiliating.

Every thrust feels like he's slowly inflating a balloon inside you, like something pulling taut, like pressure about to burst.

"Fuck, wait!" you shout and turn your head. The pressure is insane, mixed up with a building orgasm, twined together. He hasn't even touched your clit, and yet you're on the precipice.

Johnny leans down, lips on your ear. He slows, but doesn't stop.

"What is it, bonnie?"

"I have to pee," you'd have mumbled it before, but the feeling is so strong you can't help but whimper and cry. "Please let me up."

"Ye aren't gonna pee," he laughs. "Trust me, just trust me." Then keeps pistoning into you.

You feel like jello, like mush, the only solid part of you is about to burst and somehow it makes you feel real anxiety, dampening your enjoyment.

"Johnny-" you whimper, emotion clogging your voice. You feel vulnerable, held down and bared.

In need of reassurance.

"You're alright," he leans back down and nuzzles your wet cheek. "Ye can let go, kitten, I've got ye."

You gasp, pulsing hard around him, the feeling back again, before you gush around his cock, a spray so intense you cry as it forces him out of you.

"Good. Fucking. Girl!" he slaps your ass once, twice, on both cheeks. Rubs your flank like a horse and then plunges back into you when you finish dripping down your legs.

This is purely selfish, him fucking you hard now, jackrabbiting his hips into yours. You hear the phone again, just barely, as your ears ring.

You're raw from coming without any touch to your clit, a weird limbo between being on-edge and oversensitive.

"Gonna give me another," he's growling now, getting impossibly faster. You actually really cry when he reaches around to twist your clit, thrashing under him, not sure if you want to leap off the couch or crawl right back into him. "Come for me!" he shouts, pulling up the hood of your clit to really get at you, rubbing rough circles around your beleaguered little nub.

The second orgasm melts your brain out of your ears, so long and drawn out that you're still shivering with the aftershocks as he pulls out of you and paints your back with his release.

You pant, arm one arm dangling over the edge of the couch while you the other covers your eyes.

Johnny rubs a hand on your thigh, light and gentle, patting your bum as he stands. You move your arm just enough to squint at him.

His jeans are soaked.

You laugh, uninhibited, delirious. He laughs with you.

"All you, darlin'!" he takes another shot of you, pulls your legs apart and takes a picture of your wet, sore hole.

"Is she good?" ah, your boyfriend. He has his own wet spot on the front of his pants.

"She's good," Johnny confirms. "Ye need to take care of her now, right?"

Something in his voice changes. A different kind of authority to the one he used on you, one reserved for soldiers. For men beneath him. At that thought, your pussy makes a valiant effort to clench.

"Yeah, yeah," you hear. Your boyfriend has his phone out, his cheeks flushed with excitement. "These are great man, thanks."

You start to sit up, still shaking, but not wanting to have him see you that way.

"Man, you weren't kidding!" he goes on. Johnny frowns and steps forward to clap him hard on the back and grab his nape.

"Run a bath, do it now. Ye got granola bars?"

"Uh, yeah. Hold on."

You're touched by his concern, and wind up soaking in warm bubbles after he leaves. You wonder about the photos, about what you look like. If your boyfriend is satisfied, if Johnny is.

If you were good.

Feels like you were, but somethings changed. Johnny found a soft spot knife-deep inside you and dug himself in, made you fly and made sure you were brought back to earth after, tenderized and then wrapped in comfort.

Beneath the water, you touch your pussy. Not to masturbate, just to feel the soft sore flesh, to remember the feeling of fullness.

Maybe, after his deployment, your boyfriend will want more pictures.

Fresh material.

Beneath the water, your finger curls into yourself and you sigh, satisfied.

[badartxd]

I’ve been meaning to post these two a looong while ago but I commissioned IoanaMuresanArt on Twitter a few months back and got these lovelies to show >:) (I’m sorry about all the evil emoticons it’s how I express excitement XD)

✨Intimidating Girlies ✨

Also the new Gifts und Trinkets tag is how I’ll organize my gift/commission adjacent stash because it’s a mess rn and I’m still working on organization for some reason. Also it’s a reference to this vid:

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

Alt Ending to “Fuck being nice to you”

Tags: Nanami x fem!Reader, Satoru x fem!Reader, mmf threesome, spit roast, unprotected sex, blowjobs, squirting, this fic is a lil ridiculous, nsfw, mdni

Synopsis: This is an alternative ending to my fic Fuck being nice to you. If you want, you can read it here! This is the ending where Satoru catches you and Nanami and asks to join in :3

An: It feels like so long ago I wrote Fuck being nice to you... Ahhh the good days.

“Yeah.. yeah.. Actually- no, I think I’m falling ill. I think you should g-go now… I don’t want to contaminate you..” You didn’t know your husband could be such a filthy liar, but here he was. His voice was breathy and needy. He was nearly panting in front of his coworker.

"Hm, are you seriously sick? Do you have a fever?" Gods, Gojo knew no boundaries. He sat up from his chair, and he leaned across Nanami's desk before pressing the palm of his hand to Nanami's forehead. "You actually do really feel warm, Nanamin. You should take better-"

He silences himself as he peaks down towards your husband's lap. His six eyes knew someone was down there, but he just thought you were trying to play a prank. He didn't expect to see you sitting on your knees with a mouth full of cock.

"Oh- I... I see." Satoru actually cannot for the life of him think of something witty to say. He's always thought that Nanami's wife was really pretty, but seeing you on your knees like that was enough to even make him blush.

Your mouth falls open slightly, and if this moment wasn't so tense, you'd laugh at the noise Nanami's cock made as it slapped back against his stomach.

"Satoru-" Nanami is trying to apologize. This was a complete disgrace of the workplace, and he inadvertently subjected Satoru to his sick fantasies by letting you continue. He should've been more responsible -- either by telling you to stop or by telling Gojo to fuck off. "I apologize.. I-"

"You have nothing to apologize for. I'm intruding... I-" Satoru doesn't even know how to act. He's completely off kilter. He quickly stands up from his seat, and his cock is tented in his black pants, which is incredibly noticeable to both you and Nanami.

After a beat of silence, Satoru finally gains the confidence to ask, "Can I... can I stay and.. watch?" He asks sheepishly, fumbling with his fingers and avoiding eye contact with both you and Nanami. "I won't touch either one of you - promise. I just want to watch if that's okay. If not, that's totally fine. I'll just forget that I ever saw this."

Nanami's first instinct is to tell Gojo to fuck himself, but he thinks about it for a moment. He glances down at you, and you look back up at him. It seems both of you were waiting to see what the other had to say.

"You want to watch me... fuck my wife's mouth..?" Nanami asks, just to be clear. He was fine with Satoru seeing that. It's not like you'd be naked or anything.

"Yeah.. I just want to watch anything really.." Satoru nods his head. His heart is hammering in his chest at the thought of seeing you on your knees once again. He'd much rather it be his cock that was touching the back of your throat, but he could live with seeing Nanami too. The pleasures of being bisexual.

"What do you think, darling? Wanna show Satoru how good of a job you can do?" Nanami asks with a small smirk on his face, and the palm of his hand pats your head encouragingly.

You give your husband a small smile and a nod. You were happily married and completely devoted to your husband, but you would simply be lying if you said you didn't find Satoru attractive. Who didn't? You didn't mind him watching you get Nanami off.

Satoru's dick immediately twitches with joy, and he makes quick work of moving Nanami's desk out of the way so he can see what's happening in it's entirety. He then also quickly locks the door so no other surprise visitors can try to join in.

Before he sits back down, Satoru tugs down his pants and boxers a little, unsheathing his large cock from his clothing. His eyes are focused on you, watching as you tease Nanami's length with your tongue.

Nanami has a fistful of hair in his hand as you give his tip small kitten licks. Your husband’s breathy moans fill the air as his eyes are glued on you. He couldn’t believe that you three were doing this in his office… on school property.

Of course, it was late in the day, so all of the students were gone, but it still just felt so exhilarating.

“Take me in your mouth, darling.” Nanami instructs, and his thumb pushes your chin down, forcing you to open your mouth for him.

Suckling on his fat tip, your eyes glance over towards Satoru who is still sitting in the chair. His hand was wrapped around his cock, slowly pumping it in sync with how you’re bobbing your head.

His face was twisted in concentration, and his pale skin was flushed a bright red. His light blue eyes never left yours, imagining what it’d feel like if you had your pretty lips wrapped around him instead.

“Looking at someone?” Nanami asks in a condescending tone before he pushes your head down, forcing his length deeper down your throat. “Eyes on me, sweetheart. Satoru is just a guest.”

Your throat constricts around his girthy cock, causing for you to gag. Your eyes water as you look up at your husband. He gives you a small smirk as his thumb wipes the tears from your eyes.

Satoru grits his teeth together, jerking at his cock harder. His stomach was practically doing flips from how erotic everything was. You were just too damn pretty on your knees like that, and seeing Nanami punish you for looking at him was something he didn’t know he needed in life.

“Just like that, darling… Ohhh fuck.. nice and wet for me.” Nanami groans as he leans his head back. The palm of his hand still rests on your head. You can feel his wedding band against your scalp.

You can’t help but just glance over at Satoru again. It’s not your fault — you’ve never sucked dick with an audience before. Satoru is such a mess in his chair. His arm is moving quickly, pumping his length vigorously, and his hips are bucking up towards his hand.

“What did I say?” Your husband’s sharp tone immediately catches your attention. The air in the room shifts, and you can see a different side of Nanami start to make more of an appearance. You look up at him with a remorseful look in your eyes, and he jerks your head back to where his cock is out of your mouth.

“You want to look at Satoru that bad? Fine. Look at him while I ruin you.” Nanami guides your body up, and he bends you over his desk to where you’re facing Satoru.

Satoru’s eyes were wide, and he had momentarily stopping moving his arm while he was enamored with the sight of Nanami bending you over.

Your husband’s hands push up your pencil skirt, and without any prep, he guides himself towards your entrance. “W-wait.. Ken-“ You stammer before he rudely pushes himself past the wet muscle with a small ‘pop’.

“Mmm. So tight for me, all for me, right?” Nanami moans as he leans down over your back side, almost mounting you on his chest.

“F-fuuck!” You cry out as the rest of his length slides into you at a torturously slow pace. Your husband presses wet kisses against your neck and collarbone as one of his hands is pressed against the desk to hold himself up. "Ngh~ too b-big.. please ah-!"

“That’s not an answer, darling.” He mumbles lowly before his other hand grips your hair, forcing your eyes up to look at Satoru.

The white haired male was already back to fucking his fist. His tip was an angry red from neglect. His chest was rising and falling heavily with each panicked breath. He already felt so fucking close, but he didn’t want to finish just yet.

“Tell him it’s all for me.” Your husband demands in low growl. His hips are starting to rut into your backside, fucking himself deep into your sopping wet hole.

“It’s yours~!” Your voice is a shaky whimper as you can barely hold yourself together while receiving deep thrusts from him.

“Oh, you can do better than that, darling.” His voice is so taunting. He can’t help but let that side of him win. He wants to ruin you, punish you for even looking at Satoru while his cock was buried in your mouth.

“I’m yours-! F-fuck.. all yours, Ken.” You try to rest your body against the desk, but Nanami won’t let you. He’s going to make you look at Satoru the whole time while he pounds into you.

“That’s my girl.” He praises as his hips crash down into your backside, causing the most pornographic slapping noises.

His cock is so mean, drilling deep into you, kissing strings of pre-cum against your womb. Your spongy walls latch onto him juuuust right.

“You’re a fucking mess, darling. You like being fucked in front of him, don’t you?” He taunts once more before his hand swats the flesh of your ass. “I didn’t know I married a whore.”

“Ngh.. fuck.. Ken.. so, so good.. m-more.” You’re a drooling mess on his desk. His cock literally fucking you stupid.

“You want more?” He asks before his hand presses down on the center of your back, forcing you flush against hush desk. “I’ll give you more, slut.” His hips start moving harshly, with little regard of hurting you or not.

The desk is starting to creak from the amount of pressure and movement it’s under. Nanami couldn’t care less if it breaks. He’s too enthralled with the feeling of your weeping cunt wrapped around him.

A loud groan rips through the air, and both you and Nanami peak up to see Satoru panting heavily. His shirt was soiled with his own cum. Watching you get manhandled was just too much for him. “Fuck..” He breathes out, still carefully stroking his cock through his orgasm.

“Look at what you did. Making him finish like that. Aren’t you ashamed?” Nanami teases as his thrusts slow inside of you. The wet gushing noises fill the room as your cunt flutters around him.

“Don’t you dare finish. You cum when I tell you to.” Your husband threatens before giving your ass another firm spank.

Your body is right on the edge, and you grip onto the desk, digging your nails into the wood. “R-really close.. Ken.. please.” You try to plea with him.

“Hold it.” He simply demands.

“But I-“

“Satoru, come here.” Nanami completely interrupts you. He readjusts your body against the desk as Satoru slowly approaches.

“Yeah..?” Satoru asks hesitantly. His body is still recovering from his orgasm from earlier. His heart is hammering through his chest with fear and excitement.

“Fill her mouth since she doesn’t know how to be quiet.” Nanami instructs, and his hips start to slowly roll inside of you again. You have to bite your lip harshly to prevent yourself from finishing on him.

“Fuck- you sure?” Nanami shoots Satoru a sharp glance, and the white haired male doesn’t waste another second. He quickly peels his ruined shirt off his body, revealing his muscular chest, and he shifts to where his cock is hanging in font of your puffy lips. He’s already getting hard again, but his cock is too heavy to stand straight up.

“Open your mouth for me, sweets. I’ll be gentle.” Satoru coaxes you as his hand brushed against your cheek. This was like a dream come true for him.

Your eyes lock with his as you slowly open up your mouth for him. Satoru guides his tip against your tongue, teasing you before he slid his length into you mouth while stifling a moan. "Fuuuck~ Just like that, pretty..."

Suddenly, Nanami snaps his hips forward brutally, knocking your body forward and Satoru's cock deeper in your mouth. Your moan vibrates around his length, causing for him to grip onto your hair tightly.

"Sh-shit. Still sensitive." Satoru quietly whines in a breathy tone.

"Don't be such a wimp. Give her what she's askin' for." Nanami chastises as he looks down to where you two are connected. His cock is nearly dripping in your juices, making it very clear to him just how much you like being spit roasted by them.

It slowly deteriorates to a push and pull between Satoru and Nanami. Satoru is guiding your head up and down while also thrusting into your mouth, and Nanami is behind you, pounding your pretty cunt into oblivion.

Your whines and moans are muffled from Satoru's cock in your mouth, but you can feel your pleasure building back up again. Your stomach starts to coil, and the air around your body feels fuzzy. Your hand smacks to table, hoping that Nanami will just understand what you're trying to convey.

"Mmm, just a bit longer, d-darling. 'm almost there. Gonna cum with me, aren't you?" Nanami moans from behind as each one of his thrusts makes the fat from your ass ripple in recoil.

Satoru pets your hair as he gazes down at you with a small grin. His cock is completely drenched in spit and drool. Your eyes are all bleary from tears, and your face looks so fucked out. "Aw, look at you. Are you cock drunk, sweets?"

You of course couldn't answer, but the obvious answer was yes.

"Cum for me, darling. Gonna fill this pussy up." Nanami grunts, and his cock starts to twitch and flex with each rope of cum he shot into you. Your cunt immediately starts to pulse around him as you reach your high at the same time.

"Goood girl." Nanami praises in a breathless voice, and his hands start to caress up and down on your body. "Did so good for us."

Satoru slowly pulls himself from your mouth, and he allows you to have a moment to gather yourself. "Mhm... took us so well." He agrees as his fingers come through your hair, massaging your scalp as you catch your breath.

Nanami slowly pulls himself out of you from behind with a sharp hiss. "Still so tight." He murmurs as he crouches down and presses a french kiss straight on your cunt.

"Mmnph~ Ken." You whimper, and you try to pull back from him since you're still so sensitive.

"Oh, I've missed those pretty noises, darling." He coos before he presses another kiss to your wet folds. "You taste so sweet too." He tenderly flicks his tongue over your clit, making your legs start to tremble.

Your husband swipes his finger along your entrance, and he smirks when he sees the muscle clench around nothing. "Mmm, guess she wants more, huh?"

"Wait Ken- sensitive." You whimper out, holding onto the desk for dear life.

"That's the point, darling. Satoru, come here." Nanami instructs once again, and Satoru happily walks behind you. His mouth nearly waters from the sight of your glistening cunt on display for him.

"Are you going to just eye-fuck her the entire time, or are you going to actually fuck her?" Nanami asks as he cocks an eyebrow at Satoru.

"Don't come cryin' to me when she starts asking for me to join in on the regular, 'kay Nanamin?" Satoru retorts without even missing a beat, and he positions himself behind you.

Nanami adjusts himself to where he's sat on the ground between Satoru's legs, facing him. His head is tilted upward, so he can lap at your cunt while Satoru fucks you from behind.

Satoru presses his tip against your entrance, and he scoffs at the bit of resistance he feels. "You weren't lyin'. Pretty girl is still tight." He grunts as he pushes his tip in, causing a whimper from you. Satoru was just a bit smaller than Nanami, but he made up for it in overall girth, stretching you wiiide open.

"Ah~ fuck... Satoru.." You moan as he buries himself to the hilt. Nanami then carefully latched his lips around the small bundle of nerves, and he gently suckles. Your entire body trembles from excitement

“Mmf~ that’s right. Say my name, sweets.” Satoru moans as his thrusts start to make the most vulgar plap noises against you.

Nanami’s tongue worked against your clit as Satoru made sure to thrust against all the right spots. Your body felt like it was being ascended right up to heaven as both men worked to pleasure you.

Nanami’s wooden desk creaked with each thrust of Satoru’s hips. Your entire body was being rudely pushed forward while Satoru’s large hands groped at your ass.

“She’s fuckin’ cryin’ for me, sweets.” Satoru groaned as he could feel his balls tightening. Nanami’s tongue would sometimes on purpose accidentally rub against the underside of his cock, making his cock jump from the sensation.

“So good. So fucking tight. Ngh~ gonna cum inside you, okay pretty? Need to fill you up too, see your tummy bulge with my cum.” Satoru is such a talker when he’s pussy drunk. His body tenses as he grabs your hips and pulls you back onto him with each thrust.

“Wait- fuck.. ah! I’m gonna…” You cry out, trying to get Satoru to pause for just one moment. Something was building inside you, but it didn’t feel like a typical orgasm. You try to wiggle your way away from the two men, but they both have you completely pinned, making you take whatever they graciously give you.

“Let go, pretty. Let go f’me.” Satoru encourages you as he feels himself on the brink of coming a second time. Nanami licks a stripe all the way from the base of Satoru’s cock down to your clit, and instantly, Satoru’s pumping you full of his seed.

“Sh-shit-! I…” Your voice is barely whimper as your cunt convulses around his cock. Liquid gushes out from your weeping whole, completely soaking both of the men behind you.

“Oh darling, you made a mess.” Nanami laughs earnestly as his hand massages your thighs.

“Shiiiit sweets, you didn’t have to do all that for me.” Satoru purrs as he rubs on your back lovingly. He carefully pulls his hips back, allowing for his cock to slide out of you.

You lie against the desk for a few more moments, catching your breath. You can feel Nanami pressing tender kisses between your thighs, and Satoru’s large palms are massaging your back. Your eyes flutter closed as you let both men tend to you.

“Wouldn’t it be so great if your future kids come out with white hair?” Satoru jokes before Nanami shoots him a death glare, causing him to laugh and put his hands up in surrender. “I mean, I’d pay good money in child support!” He laughs as Nanami tries his damnest to grab him.

[kombuuuu]

hii i really enjoyed ur miles 42 fic, was wondering if u could write something about reader and miles meeting for the first time? who was interested first🤭?

For the Soul (and the Heart)

Miles!42 x Fem!Reader

“I’ll be here. So pretty fun, i’d say”. “Guess you’re right, Chiquita.”

AHHH meet cute x simpy miles we LOVE

Miles getting comfy w reader and reader getting progressively more combative the more time they spend together bc they luvvvvvvv each other? perfection

please don’t read if you get uncomfy with suggestive content, nothing too bad but still suggestive!

The morning was still. An odd occurrence for a Saturday. The winter chill had settled the night prior and seeped into ever cracked windowsill.

Streets coating in a thin layer of snow and trees dusted with the same. And acknowledging this freezing weather, obviously you decided to go for a walk. Snow crunched under your feet as you followed street signs, the only thing telling you where you were going was which street looked prettier.

Eventually you stopped, hugging your scarf closer to your nose and looking for a stall or shop that caught your eye.

Eventually it did, a quaint cafe stationed between two clothing stores, relatively small and pretty empty. The outside was decorated with white Lilly-of-the-Valley flowers, flower beds filled with the pretty things. Contrasting to the deep Mahogany of the wooden shop. Which looking into the wide window, seemed relatively the same. Deep furniture with white accents and a soft yellow light dancing along shiny hardwood floors.

Swirling cursive words cut into the wooden headboard swinging from a chain outside the door. “Morales Coffee.”

There looked to be seven or eight people in there currently, for how inconspicuous it tried to look, the amount of patrons at such an odd time (10:42 AM, not morning but not afternoon either.), You’d assume that coffee has to be amazing.

The door bell chimed sweetly at your entry, Barista turning to greet you.

The sweet woman gleamed over at you for a moment, turning back to her current customer while he pulled out his wallet. You lined up, looking at the pastries lining the glass displays. The ones catching your eye a Raspberry Danish and a cute baby blue Lunch-Box cake.

The man had moved away, leaving it your turn to order. The woman smiled at you and for once, approaching someone in costumer service didn’t feel as scary as it should’ve.

“Hi, What can I get for you today?” The curly haired woman had a twang of an accent curving her words. And a motherly vibe about her.

“Hey,” You smiled back at her “,Could I get a regular Mocha—.” You paused to let her punch it in. “.—A raspberry Danish and your blue cake.”

You pointed vaguely towards where the blue cake would be to her side of the display. “Yes, of course! That’ll be $18.40, thank you.”

Whilst you pulled out your purse to pay and she began to retrieve the items. She spoke up again. “Someone’s birthday?”

You laughed, not expecting her to speak so suddenly.

“Oh, no!” A chuckle left your lungs “Just want some cake recently. Saw your shop and its cakes. Thought may as well get it while i’m here.”

She laughed along with you, snorting a little as she boxed the small cake in the cardboard lunchbox. “Seems reasonable.”

“Thank you.”

She grabbed your danish and placed it on the counter, putting the cake in a bag and handing it to you.

“Thank you, again.”

“No worries, your mocha will be out shortly!” The bouncy lady turned around, going close to the back of the counter and opened a door you hadn’t realised was there, talking into it.

“Bebé, hay una chica linda ahí afuera que quiere un Mocha. Ve a hacerlo para ella. Y no la riegues.”

"Baby, there's a cute girl out there who wants a Mocha. Go do it for her. And don't mess it up."

Miles glanced up in confusion.

“¿Pero porqué me dices a mi?”

“Why me?”

“Pues es linda, y parece de tu edad.”

“She’s pretty, and around your age.”

“Ma, porfavor.”

“Ma, please.”

“Go.”

“Fine, fine.” He raised his hands in defeat and Rio kissed his cheek on the way out.

You found a seat with a cute view of the street outside and waited patiently for your coffee, people watching to pass time.

There was always a fear of crime in your neighbourhood. The lack of supposed ‘good guys’ coupled with the city being run down by anyone who wanted to escape trouble. Once news broke out of the first robbery in Brooklyn, where no one was caught. It was immediately put on the radar for any criminal looking to live somewhere safe.

The Prowler had been changing that. Little by little the Panther-esc.. Anti-Villain was scraping through the streets of Brooklyn and letting his blood stained claws drag over those in his way.

People feared him, the violence he brought with him.

You thought he was the closest thing to a hero you were getting, so who’s got room to complain?

If he’s not going to do the dirty work, who will?

The chatter of other people in the cafe had gotten slightly louder, four more people walking in while you sat.

“Miles, la chica linda de ahí.”

“Miles, That sweet girl over there.”

“Sí mamá, ya sé.”

“Yeah mama, I know.”

The smooth baritones accent of a boy around your age caught your attention. The way his letters curled giving you a rush of something down your spine. You looked up when you heard feet approaching, seeing probably the most ridiculously handsome man you have ever met bring you your coffee.

The way his jawline sharpened at a point, braids lying on his shoulders just below it. His lips that seemed awfully soft for someone who probably doesn’t even know what chapstick is. Lashes fluttering prettily over his high genes cheekbones, accenting his golden eyes. Jesus christ he’s pretty. His lips curled into a smirk at your face, your doe’d eyes gleaming up at him. He had some sharp canines.

“‘S one’s yours, Miss.” He placed the steaming mug on your table and you smiled. “Thank you!”

“No worries, Hermosa.” He looked at you a moment longer before the sweet lady called him back to make another order.

“Coming, Momma.” He called back to her, turning back to you for a second time and adding.

“I’m Miles, by the way.”

“Miles.. that’s a cute name.”

His lips upturned again at the compliment.

You gave him your name, which he hummed at, repeating it and rolling it around his tongue. His accent was gorgeous.

“Hope to see you ‘round, [Name].”

You choked out a pathetic affirmation, “Mhmma.— Yeah, yep.”

He laughed lightly and dragged his fingers along the table as he left.

Like claws.

—

Two days later you were back. It was some of the best coffee you’d ever had. And the desserts were the same, most of the cake still sitting boxed in the fridge.

Also there was an added bonus, being the coffee house owner, and her son.

The boy was interesting enough to keep your attention, sweet to you but held a sort of curiosity about him. Like he was hiding something but felt no shame in doing it, that it was righteously excused.

And to be real, you were dying to hear his voice again. Two days and all that had been playing in your head was the way he’d said your name, let the word travel down to his lungs and breathed life into it. A longing into it.

Miles was about the same, probably worse.

You saying his name was cute was probably his new lifeline. The way you had said it so innocently, sweetly to the likes of him. A twisted, wretched man. You had him swooning faster than he deemed safe, his body was going into overdrive. He had watched you while in their cafe, having never met someone so.. untainted by the world. Someone so sweet who carried nothing but a childlike innocence in their curios nature. Nothing done out of bad faith or in vain. You were nothing like him, he adored that.

So when you came wandering back into his Mommas cafe, he hoped to every universe it would be something you didn’t stop doing.

“Ah! Miss, You’re back!” His Ma greeted her, watching as the girl told Rio her name, and his Mom in return.

You guys chatted idly for a moment, your expressions clear as day. He could read you like a grown man could read a picture book, so easy it would be insulting to present him with it, if the content wasn’t you. The brightness and easy nature of you was something refreshing, he would say his Momma was easy-going, but times had been hard lately and his family needed a cheering up. You seemed like the perfect candidate.

Sweet, bubbly and looking at him right now- Oh. He waved at you, shivering at the eye contact and watching as you smiled at him and waved back, hands shaking. He likes how nervous he makes you.

You sniffled a little from the cold, dripping your hand as his Mom room your attention again. She handed you a cinnamon scroll and you paid quickly, dropping twenty bucks in the tip jar and quickly finding your way back to your seat.

“Miles! Un Mocha regular porfavor.”“Miles, regular Mocha please.”

He nodded to his mom, like he hadn’t remembered from last time. Like he hasn’t watched as you enjoyed something he made you.

—

“Bienvenida de nuevo, Chiquita.”“Welcome back, Chiquita.”

Sitting in the same spot as last time, staring at the idling passer-by’s, the light of a Winter morning danced off the snowy ground and highlighted your face, leaving a soft glow in your eyes.

You turned to him, paying him your whole mind.

“Thank you, Miles.” He placed your coffee in front of you, slightly leaning over you. He raised his eyebrows and hummed. You inhaled quickly, breath caught in your throat. Now realising the proximity between the two of you. Not only that, but there was a sweet smell that followed him around, coffee and cinnamon. How fitting.

His voice had gone deeper, smoother.

“I’m glad to see you back here—,” He leaned back again, hand dragging the same way it had two days prior. Your slow blink and parted lips made a deep rooted part of him begin to blossom once more.

He wanted to protect you the way he knew no one else could, wanted to lay his Soul down for you. Let you trace the veins imbedded in his skin with your teeth and take as much from him as you could. Run him dry, let him owe you his life so he can die protecting yours.

The speed his infatuation was growing probably wasn’t healthy.

“Really?” Your sweet, breathless inquiry silenced that though.

“Of course, Mami.”

“I—,” You paused, picking at you fingernails for a moment “,—I like it here, a lot.”

You leaned a little forward in your seat. Pressing your forearms against the wooden tabletop and leaning on them. He watched your back drop into a small arch, and for his own health, decided to ignore it. “‘S very cozy.” You glanced towards the window again. Watching another lad and her dog pass. He watched you.

“Mm, it is.”

“And you’re here.”

He sucked in a breath, fingers twitching.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Your gaze flickered to him once more and he held it.

He let his hand drift to your shoulder, rubbing it slowly while he peeled himself away from the table.

“I gotta go, Mami, but enjoy your time.”

“You too, Miles.”

“I’ll be working,” He smiled at you, a small thing.

“I’ll be here. So pretty fun, I’d say.”

He hummed.

“Guess you’re right, Chiquita.”

—

It had been around four Months since Miles had met you. And he was in over his damn head, not that he wasn’t at your first meeting. But progressively, over time, he’d fallen deeper and deeper for you.

Everything you did had him in a chokehold. The way you were so sweet with his Mom, or how even uncle Aaron liked you when he’d stopped by the cafe.

How you offered to help around with no pay, generosity basically leaking from your heart. When you would come over just to see him because you “missed his voice”.

Or would sit in his room and wait for him. If he ever came home late, injured from things you had no business knowing, you wouldn’t ask a thing. You stayed quiet, and patched him up. Let him rest his head on your collarbone while you softly rubbed his shoulders. Trying to lighten the weight of the world off of them.

Every little thing.

He was done pretending like it didn’t affect him. He could barely go a single day without you on his mind constantly, as if.

He knew you felt the same.

Still just as readable as your first meeting. He knew the frequent outings between the two of you were more than just friendly meet-ups to you. To him.

And when your gazes would catch one another, he’d try and tell you. Express without so much as a word how you were the only person he could do this with. The only one he felt comfortable to walk down the street with, and let you chat his ear off about any new movies you’d seen, books you’d have read.

He would let you sleep in his bed, bring little things into his room and give the bland walls life.

You had made a home in him. Cracked chips in his walls on by one until you’d found a single loose stone and happily let everything he’d built up fall just for you.

—

Miles had texted you around mid-day that he’d wanted to see you, in which you’d giggled at your phone dreamily.

Laying on your bed with your stomach down, kicking your legs like a girl gone stupid.

It hadn’t even been much to fret over, just a simple:

Can you come over later?

He had phrased it rather questioningly, but for no good reason. He’d known full well the moment he even insinuated you being with him, you’d jump at the chance.

And you did, swiftly replying;

okayyyy !!

I’ll pick you up at 7.

six…?

7, [Name].

>:(

Don’t be childish.

i’m nvr childish, see u at 6 C:

You got up, threw your phone somewhere on the bed and checked your, admittedly already-packed, overnight bag. Making sure nothing was missing before putting it at your door.

Your phone pinged again.

See you at six.

You smiled.

You spent the rest of that afternoon anxiously waiting for him to pick you up.

—

He showed up at your door five minutes late, greeting you at the door with a soft apology about the tardiness.

“Sorry, Mami. Took a wrong turn.”

“Don’t apologise, Miles.”

You smiled at him, stars in your eyes. He looked away for a second, a bit guilty for lying to you, but he feels it’s worth it.

“Grab your bag, ma. Let’s go.”

You hummed an affirmation, rushing to your room to grab the pink duffel bag.

You grabbed your phone off your night stand and did a double check for everything.

You walked out again, closing the door behind you. Miles was leant up against your doorframe. Forearm pressed on the wood and his torso stretched. A small sliver of his skin had peeked from under the fabric, you thanked the warming weather. Quickly averting your gaze, you noticed him watching your stare in intent, a curious smile playing at the corner of his lips.

“You good, Chiquita?”

“Uhuh—, yep. Fine.”

“Mmhm.”

You huffed out, pouting and pressing your palm to his chest, his very toned chest, and pushed back lightly.

“Get outta my way, lame-o, I gotta lock the door.”

He resisted for a moment longer, gazing down at you in humour. He trailed his hand up your arm slyly and pried your hand off his chest by sliding his thumb up from under your wrist onto your palm. Slowly pulling you off him.

“Maybe ask politely.”

You gave him an unimpressed stare and flipped him off.

“Miles.”

“[Name].”

“Oh my god.”

“It’s just a ‘please’.”

“..-Please, get the fuck outta my way.”

“Of course, Hermosa.” He snorted as he did.

You turned around, Miles still close to you in the cramped hallway, and locked your door.

You turned around, noticing his eyes glance up from where they were before and shot him a questioning look. He turned around and led you through you hallway, dismissing the look.

—

He opened the steel door to the cafe. The scenery of a rooftop garden with the same Lilly-of-the-Valley flowers up here as there were out front of the store.

Shrubbery lined the rooftop edge and the string lights hung from the veranda created an atmosphere that seemed almost cinematic.

“Jesus, Miles. This is beautiful.”

“Mm, thought you’d like it.”

“I do, so much.”

You stated in awe at the mural painted on a buildings wall behind the door. A man who stroke a resemblance to Miles painted surrounded by colours of any.

The moonlight basked against the neon colours, accenting the man’s features.

“My dad.”

Your gaze snapped up to him beside you, brows furrowing in a frown.

“I’m sorry.”

“‘S cool. Nothin’ you coulda known, Ma.”

He sighed at the image of his father, wishing him well rest.

Turning to you, he wasn’t surprised to see the greif in your eyes. He was, though, surprised at the lack of pity.

He was so used to having his far family whisper behind his back at how his soul had died with his fathers. How the light in his eyes had gone missing the day his hand had been forced, unable to get to his dad in time.

There was no escaping his death.

So to feel the understanding coming from you—. The confidence in your sorry but knowledge that pity would do no one any good, it was refreshing. Everything about you was.

He turned away from your watchful eyes, the intensity being unusual for him.

“Come sit, vida mía.”

You followed him dutifully, loyally. Like you had since the last Winter. Like you would continue for the next to come.

A set of pillows had been placed in the middle of the veranda. White wood covered in lively vines and the aforementioned string lights.

There was a layout of his pastries (which you had learned he was the baker of) laid out on a cotton blanket.

You sat on one of the pillows, legs crossed. Miles following short after.

“Oooh,” You begun to tease him “,This a romantic dinner date?” The tone of your voice was in jest, but when he had failed to answer— Your heart rate sped up and your face went hot to the touch.

“Miles? Y’know I— I was just jokin’—“ “If you want it to be.”

You stood stupidly for a moment, not quite reeling in his words like any other person would.

“Wh—.”

It was his turn for unsurity now, eyes dancing nervously between you and the skyline.

“No pressure, though. Just think it’d be nice.”

“It would.”

He refocused on you again, finding you already watching him owlishly. “Yeah?”

“Mm, we could—,”

He anxiously started picking at the blanket. Who knew someone usually so calm could be this nervous asking out the most harmless girl he knew.

“Try. We could try that, together.” You mumbled a bit, seemingly playing it off. “If you want, or something..”

“I do.” He gained some leg to stand on, finding it easier and easier as you spoke, your nerves somehow calming his own.

“I’ve wanted that for a while.”

“Oh good, cause—“ You placed your hand in your lap, cracking your knuckles. “—Me too, so. That’s good.”

He grinned at your awkwardness, knowing your lack of experience in the relationship aspect of life, this mutual agreement, instead of one asking the other out, probably hasn’t been an experience of yours yet. He liked he was the first.

“Don’t get all shy on me now.”

You puffed at him, punching his arm lightly.

“I’m never shy, that’s for dumb stupid lame people. And I am none of those.” “Oh, sure.”

“Wh— Sure?! Which one are you ‘sure’-ing? Dumb, stupid or lame?!”

“Uhuh.”

“Miles!”

“Keep saying my name like that, mami.”

“Oh my goodness!”

—

And when you both finally got into his bed, you’d slept tangled together like you had dozens of times before. But this time, Miles would grab your waist and pull you closer. Settle his face in your neck and trace his nose down the length of your shoulder, peppering a kiss on every inch of skin he could find, and you’d both finally felt sure.

Maybe people were right, maybe Miles’s soul had died with his father.

But meeting you, something new, something rejuvenating—.

It left him with a light he could search for, a new soul. A whisp of a being you’d taken from your own heart and placed in his. It left him breathless with life.

—

YIPEEE!!!!! another one 🗣️‼️

thank you to my translation helpers (bbgs) @kissmxcheek and @millyswife

(oh, wrong Miles! oops! 🤗⬇️)