#and then everyone left and didnt even clean up

[mcnuggyy]

how to be normal about my cousins 4 year old dragging my plushies across the dirty floor while I broom and mop the kitchen

[kil9]

aauauauuougghghs i need to move out 👁👁

^^^ [CHEC IT OUT] i need to move out moodboard (available now !!!(

[lokigodofaces]

me: spends hours cleaning the kitchen and bathroom simply because i wanted to also me: if i have to fold my laundry today i will spontaneously combust

[catgirlinfluencer]

Im SO SICK OF THIS HOUSEEEE I WANT TO GET OUTTTT PLEASE GOD PLEASE😭😭

[mooishbeam]

『♡』 Brittle is Devotion

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He knew that and got greedy.  

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

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

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

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

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

“Mhm.”  

“Will you change?”  

“No.”  

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

Maybe you never mattered in the first place. 

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

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

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

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

You expel a loaded sigh and pull the covers over. 

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

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

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

“I love you too, Shoko.” 

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

“Mm, I’ll manage.” 

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

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

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

“‘N how’s that gonna help?” 

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

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

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

“Ugh, mother Shoko’s speaking.” 

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

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

“Nothing wrong with shellfish.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And you burst into tears.  

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

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

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

“Wh’re you?” you garble. 

“Kusakabe. Where ya off to?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“L’ve me alone” 

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

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

“C’mon, sweetheart.” 

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

Then, you shoot up. 

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

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

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

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

“Finally up?”  

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

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

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

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

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

“It was fine.”  

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

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

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

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

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

“Had business” 

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

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

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

“’M not lyin’.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You could barely keep your eyes op-” 

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

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

“...I know.”  

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

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

“Are ya hungry?” 

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

 Despite that hopeful outcome, you remain.  

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

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

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

“...Fine. Let’s make it quick.” 

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

“Pervert!” 

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

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

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

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

Not my business. You're nauseous.  

Not my business. Your fists clench underneath the table. 

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

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

“You lost? Take her order” he spat. 

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

“What’s funny?” 

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

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

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

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

"S'good. Livin comfortable?"  

"As comfortable as I can be"  

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

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

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

"It did pay well."  

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Don't get used to it." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Toji, there can’t be a next- “ 

“Give me your phone.” 

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

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

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

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

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

dumbass ex 

tick, tock, tick, tock 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You sigh, “It’s no one new.” 

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

“Do not fucking say it.” 

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

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

“You felt lonelier with him than without him!” 

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

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

“Absolutely. Fucking. Not.” 

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

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

'Hey stranger I got custody of ur clothes rn' 

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

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

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

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

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

Oh god. 

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

“…Hello?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“They’re for you.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Toji raises his glass, “A toast.” 

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

“Us.”  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Loving. 

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

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

“Tell me, and I’ll fix it.” 

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

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

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

“I don’t need healing. I need you.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And what else?” 

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

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

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

“Mhm!”  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Just go slow, okay?” you meek. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So, you’re the decision maker now?” 

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

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

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

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

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

 “No. You need nobody but me.” 

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

“I love you, too.” 

[screechingsandwichtriumph]

Bau x reader , where the reader is in an abusive relationship

Warnings: abusive relationship , blood , slightly yandere bau , gn reader , could be perceived as a poly bau

Summary: you are in an abusive relationship and when you call Hotch crying , they all rush to your side

The people in this team are smart and their job is literally to be observing

They obviously notice your change of behavior the moment you step out of the elevator the day you had met him/her

The energy you gave of , the way you talked and even your choice of clothes made them assume you had met someone. They totally DIDNT feel jealous at all

But you seemed happy and they had no control over you

Penelope was the one to ask and learn about the charming kind man you just met.

So the was the one who informed the others

She stalked all of his accounts and pulled out his criminal records (that were clean) his financial state and everything about him

Not even two weeks after you entered the building with a new air on you

You were shining in happiness

Everyone could feel It and everyone knew

Morgan definitely did not do an extra harsh box training that evening with Enily

And Spencer obviously did not complain to Hotch about it all day

And hotch certainly didn't almost tear apart a book in frustation

Also Penelope did not cry on JJ s shoulder and neither did the opposite happen

Then , one day exactly one month later you were gloomy

The team almost held an interrogation to find out why

Turns out your boyfriend and you had just had a super intense fight that ended up in yelling

They were quick to offer you to spent the night with one of them

Or they could book a hotel room for you

You declined saying you need to solve this out

This went on for a long of time

The weather became worst day by day and you were the first one on the team to wear a long sleeved shirt

They didn't think much of it

Your mood was drastically changing , your once bubbly and happy personality disappearing

They were all extremely worried but they didn't know what could have caused it

' Do you think it's that boyfriend of theirs?'

Morgan asked once . They all appeared worried at the thought

JJ was sent to ask you about your relationship but you quite convincingly talked in excitement and contempt about it

They were obviously worried sick ,but could do nothing about it , since they had no idea what the problem was

When they were all out together , Hotch received a call by you

You were crying and stuttering your words

' Hotch' you breathed out

' y/n? Where are you?what has happened?'

He asked and all the others gazes fell on him , their faces twisting in confusion

' I -uhhh I am on my apartment. He has left but I'm hurting a lot. Please come help'

You had said. Calling Hotch was a conscious decision since he was definitely a safe person to you and the whole team.

While Morgan could beat someone up easier and Emily was a very violent person when needed , Aaron just had this energy that he gave off.

He could protect you and you knew it

They all hoped In two cars and were to your in no time.

You were lying on the floor sobbing , with blood around you

Spencer was the one to check up on you , covering your wounds

While JJ called the police

Morgan along with Penelope were frozen on the doorway

And Aaron was right by your side pushing your hair out of your face and whispering in your ear

You were badly hurt

The paramedics arrived and Spencer rode the ambulance with you.

Penelope and Aaron followed with their car while the other three remained on your apartment

They decided to clean it up, JJ bringing the chemicals to remove the blood , while Morgan angrily scrubbed the floor

' How could he? '

Whispered Emily enraged

Then they heard keys on the door

' Honey I am so sorry for what happened, but look I brought you flo-'

A man entered the apartment and appeared shocked to find your colleagues there

Morgan had risen up staring at the man with deep hatred in his eyes

Let's say that the man returned to his house with a lot of bruises , a bunch of threats and two days later his computer caught a virus

You were in the hospital, getting better

Penelope was in the chair besides your bed working something on her computer

Once you were woken up and not high, you received a lot of hugs and sweet words

When you could finally return home they all sat you down . You knew this conversation was coming

' We want you to feel comfortable telling us about things that are going wrong in your life '

Hotch had said his voice and characteristics unnaturally soft.

' Why didn't you tell us?'

JJ wondered and you had no acceptable answer

The day ended in a lot of tears and hugs.

You quickly returned to your workplace where you were greeted with a cake that had wobbly written on it ' welcome back'

Thay would always remind you to be careful in the field for at least a month.

[p3ndeja6]

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹🍒

bangchan x fem! reader

fluff

summary: you had a long day at work, dealing with cases and clients that it wore you down to the very last bit of energy you had left. you just wanted to go home and enjoy the company of your lovely boyfriend who usually stays home and works from his at home studio. just wanting to be in the comfort and love of bangchan

content: just cute fluff, comfort, hopeless romantic type shit. implied job (office worker, lawyer, social worker) shoutout lowkey to those who are or want to be that. but it can be literally anything you want it to be :3

a relatively short one, not proof-read (once again)

a/n:n ilovehimsomuch, mi mandilon (in a good way), been trying to keep writing and publishing but im just lazy. ill try to keep posting. maybe ill do a lil hispanic one for hispanic heritage month, viva la raza. ill probs go back to hiatus after this LMFAO

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the hours were going by slow at work. today you had a ton of caseloads to work on before the following week. clients you had to meet throughout the day. barely had any time to check your phone or even let alone have lunch. it was like this most times but for some reason today felt heavier and draining.

it was almost time to clock out, and all you wanted to do is go home, relax and be in the embrace of your boyfriend. his arms and warm hugs could really bring you to life.

you packed all your things, your computer and the cases you didnt finish, and your purse. turning off the office light and shutting the door. saying goodbyes to everyone and giving weak smiles.

you were grateful that the warm evening had a nice breeze as you walked back to your shared apartment, really needing that walk and serenity.

walking back to the apartment, you get to the 15th floor and head towards your door, looking down at the slightly dirty 'welcome' sign that you found on sale at TJ Maxx.

grabbing your keys and starting to jingle the door knob. you finally unlocked the door and opening the door you see the slightly dim lit living room and connected kitchen. smelling like fabuloso. you smile to yourself knowing that chan cleaned around the house.

you put your bags down on the couch, and take off your flats that you had on. looking around, instinctively going over to his studio room, softly knocking on it and waiting a minute before opening it and smiling as you see that chan was facing towards his laptop, headphones on

you quietly and softly tap his shoulder, not trying to scare him. he jumps a little and turns around his chair, smiling instantly at the sight of you

he takes his headphones, and grabs your hands, looking up at you

"hi beautiful" he says. you smile at the compliment knowing you dont feel or look after the day you just had.

"hi handsome" you gently caressed his rough hands. he softly pulls you in his lap, holding you as you sat sideways from him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. holding your hips and legs closer to him.

"how was work?" he asked, while touching and soothing your legs.

you let out a sign and pinch the bridge of your nose, getting a headache just by thinking of work. "work was okay"

he quirks an eyebrow, sensing by your reaction to his question, that work was indeed not okay. rubbing you smoothly

"it doesn't look like it was just okay, cmon tell me, what happened at work that is making my beautiful upset" you couldnt help but smile at his words, naturally giving in (even though you were going to tell him) and telling him how work really was.

"work was... a lot tougher today. i just- i dont know, the caseload today was heavier and my clients today were too much. it was draining me really fast today" you let out

he looks at you with caring eyes, letting you continue ranting. not looking at him but still talking to him about work as he admires how beautiful and natural you looked on his lap complaining about work.

"i love my job, i really do but today just wasn't my day i guess"

he holds your face and makes you look at him, gently caressing your cheek. "it happens.. i know you love your job, and i also know that not everyday is going to be a good day... but that also means that you can just make the next day even better" he smiles, looking deeply into your eyes

you couldnt help but feel a rush of emotions and love for him, holding his face and admiring all of his features. you say to him an a quiet tone. "you always know what to say to me, dont you"

he cheeses and shyly looks away for a second before looking back at you. "im just telling you the truth" he runs his hands now down to your neck, holding you, almost in a possessive away, a caring possessive way.

you cant help but slowly lean into him, just wanting to feel his lips on your own. he knows what you are doing and just closes the gap between you both, melting into his lips, holding him. you stay there kissing until you finally had to pull away, making a popping smack sound from your lips as you pulled away, he looks at you with doe eyes.

"i dont know what i would do without you Christopher"

he smiles, holding your hands

"no need to think of that sweetheart, because you have me now, and im not going anywhere"

you stay there for a second and smile, finally speaking up again

"well enough about me.. what did you do today?" you smile getting off his lap, heading towards the kitchen

he follows you to the kitchen, close behind.

"well i dont know if you noticed but i had time and cleaned the house" he says so proudly. you turn to look at him, mid opening the fridge. looking around the room

"oh wow baby, you really did clean" you laugh a little and sniff the air "and you used the supplies i told you to use?" you say in almost shocked amused tone.

"yeah i did, just like you said, i cleaned the kitchen, the bathroom, and our room. i did that in less then 2 hours actually"

still in awe at his hard work and dedication to making the home nice and clean. you close the fridge and go up to him and hug him

he's surprised by the hug but nonetheless hugs you tighter back.

hugging him harder, not realizing that this is what you needed. melting like butter in his big strong arms. he realizes the severity of the hug and caresses and soothes your backside.

"i love you so much"

he smiles and pulls you back to look at you.

"you have no idea how much i love you, being with you brings me so much peace, i am utterly in love with you" he smiles

you almost felt like crying. you never had a real, loving relationship like the one you have with Chris. being with him makes every little wrong thing, alright.

he notices the glossy look in your eyes.

he leans slightly down, and kisses you, once again melting into your lips, moving your lips in sync with his. cupping his face, your fingers going in between his ears; holding him in place. not wanting to leave this exact moment with him.

you guys eventually pull away and just take in the view of each other

"cmon let me make you something to eat" he says, going towards the cabinets

you smile and appreciate his willingness to do such a sweet but meaningful act of service.

tiredly smiles and go over towards the counter and sit on the stool. waiting to see what he prepares you.

just watching him, cook for you, propping yourself on your elbows, holding your face with your hands.

after what felt like hours, he finally turned to you and placed the bowl of hot chicken noodle soup in front of you. havent realized he actually did cook you something

"oh baby i thought you'd just make me a sandwich with chips" you slightly laughed

he chuckled and shook his head, "honey, dont you get tired of eating that?"

you slightly frowned, "no"

he couldnt help but smile at your childish frown.

"well today have something different, i made it from scratch" he smileed

you couldnt help but smile warmly, you were hungry and could eat almost anything.

"okay then" you said as you grabbed the spoon and immediately starting digging in.

he smiles at your hungry attitude. you look up at him.

"arent you going to eat?" you say,

he goes to sit next you, just watching you eat. "i'll eat in a bit, gotta make sure you eat first" he smiles

you couldnt help it, this had to be the perfect evening. even though its a normal tuesday night at 7:37 pm.

you spent the entire evening talking and making plans for the weekend, eventually chan got up to serve himself a bowl of soup.

you had to get up for seconds to join him. enjoying the nice evening together.

you were just so glad to be living in this exact moment with him....

[potato-lord-but-not]

idk if it's unpopular or just nobody's considered the concept or maybe i am just too fond of medical knowledge but one of my takes is, if Arthur remains blind when John gets his own body his left hand to the elbow and right foot that John used to control are somewhat numb. It's a lot like when your legs fall asleep, a warm cold feeling, but no pinpricks and you can move them but not as coordinated or presise. More important to note however is this means if Arthur gets hurt in these places it is incredibly hard to notice, any should be pain is far away and feels like vague pressure. It seems and likely seemed small. There is a good chance Arthur would not even bring it up because he thought in a couple days that turned into weeks that maybe he was imagining or it'd go away on its own, but like leprosy thats how it does the most damage. And of course being blind doesn't help and it starts becoming scary. In the right time of year or being on the job, most people who don't experience pain rely on the sight of blood, a bruise, something visual, but how do you know youre bleeding if it feels no different from the sweat that drips down your neck and back? And if youre wearing particularly dark colors how many strangers are likely to notice if your sock takes on a red hue before you notice a squelch when you step? Just like his eyes if Arthur even went to a doctor, coaxed into entering an office and being patronized for a lack of symptoms the most likely conclusion would be Psychosomatic. If he's lucky told stress, but more likely that it's all in his head (ironic in a way, yeah that thing in his head was named John and likely the one who brought him here but hes not in there now is he?). But even if thats the issue being in your head doesn't mean you don't get bruises, cuts and scrapes. It means you don't stop putting weight on a foot when you step on an nail and it pierces far beyond the sole of your shoe. It means you might not notice a cut on your arm has become infected until you come down with a fever and the only thing you can say to explain yourself is "It didn't feel painful. I thought i was managing." the second half of that statement feeling like a lie because if anything you were drowning the moment you realized you could spend all day walking around and have no idea you were injured. It means at the end of the day even if you didnt want to be a bother, there is such a heavy comfort in someone rolling up your sleeve and making sure if anything is there that its cleaned, and bandaged. And maybe its also a comfort for them to grab that same hand and give a slow deliberate squeeze that your can't reciprocate but you can feel it, and know that one isnt hurting you. Anyways im rambling that's it thats the concept take notes, im telling you there is so much potential here. Im so normal about this concept

good lord absolutely no notes just everyone read this

[chrispleasure]

LONG SLEEVES, c.s

summary!: chris walks in on you cutting

warning: mention of blood, fluff, angst, crying

you werent the type to struggle, a small always plastered on your face. out of the two of you, you were the happy one. constantly laughing and spreading happiness on everyone around you, hoping no one would catch on.

on the inside, everything hurt. the smile you once had, gone, replaced with a frown which would return everytime something happy got taken away. first you went through a horrible break up, locking yourself away for months, restricting your happiness. secondly, your grandma died, causing you to shut down completely, which meant shutting out your bestfriends, nick, matt and chris.

but you didnt get far, they came to your house with an unlimited amount of support and love. offering different movies, food choices, activities and even had a time where they would take over eachothers job. so you were never alone, not breaking any bad habits.

they helped you stay clean from all those gross habits, one of them being your cutting. which was probably your worse habit. having been done after every minor inconvenience. whether you said something stupid, accidentally made some one cry, got into an argument or just anything you throught you deserved pain for.

you didnt tell anyone, the triplets had to find out the hard way, walking in. it was quite traumatising seeing their faces go from excited to confused. walking into your room with the celebratory food for becoming six weeks clean from cutting which was supposed to be a suprise, they quickly hid the food and comforted you. “everything will be ‘right, ma.” they said to you, offering every sort of comfort.

you and chris became the closest during this time, he cuddled you to sleep everytime you had a nightmare. him being the one you went downstairs for when you woke up crying. he was the only one who could properly soothe you. the only one who could kiss you.

everything was great, he helped you and you helped him. he knew absolutely everything about you, you trusted him. but slowly you started growing away from eachother. he came home one day smelling like the ariana grande perfume you wanted, and when you tried to ask about it he quickly brushed it off and made dinner.

you couldn’t shake off the feeling that he was sneaking around with someone. so you planned to talk to him about it until he snapped at you once he heard the words come out of your mouth. “your such a bitch! considering i have spent this past year caring and making sure you were okay! making sure you didnt cut! but clearly that wasn’t enough.” he stormed out of your house.

his two brothers followed after him, not thinking that you would need comfort. matt hesitated leaving, looking back at you but nick pushed him outside, reassuring you would be okay. you saw them both leave to go after chris, tears filling your eyes.

you just wanted to know if chris was loyal to you, if the ariana perfume was just a smell from the store he was at, if the bruises on his waist were from training, if the password on his phone was for his friends to follow but an exception for you.

immediantly, the urge to cut came to you. tears filled to the brim of your eyes as you rushed to your room, sobs escaping your pink lips. you ran into your room and closed the door, sitting down on the floor and running your hand under your bed, feeling for the blade you had left there a few months ago.

you felt it, immediately closing your hand and moving your hand. slowly, you reached to pull down your pants to your knees. “you deserve this. it’s your fault he’s angry.” you repeat to yourself as you cut symmetrical lines onto your thigh, watching as red beads of blood come to the surface.

tears fell onto your thigh, you reached out infront of you, wishing chris was there to comfort you. but your hand was met with the feeling of your wooden dresser instead. your eyes didnt leave the state of your thigh as the blood drew, falling down each side of your thigh.

hesitantly, you dropped the blade beside you. when you reached to your side to grab tissues, you heard the door open. “baby, i came to say sorry for—” he cut himself off once he saw you. tears falling down your face and blood dripping onto the floor. “baby— no!” he raised his voice, rushing to your side. he sat on the blade, not caring if it hurt him.

he placed his hand on your wrist, feeling how cold your once warm body was. you flinched, moving a little. “im not mad, i promise.” he says, his voice now full with love and concern. he grabs the tissues across from you and begins to dab the blood from your cuts onto the tissue.

you found your hand moving to his, he immediately interlocked your fingers together. “im here now, baby. i wont go anywhere.” he mumbles, focusing on cleaning you. once the blood dried and he got most of it off, he placed bandaids over the cuts.

he stood up, taking the blade and putting it in his pocket. “im gonna help you up and undress you. so i can run you a bath and get you nice and clean.” chris said, putting his hands under your armpits, helping you to your feet.

before anything else, he pulled you in for a hug. his arms wrapped around you, one around your back and the other around your waist. the arm around your back moved to your shoulder and moved your sleeve back, pressing wet kisses on your shoulder blade. “baby..you okay?” he presses soft kisses, keeping you close.

“i will be. with you to take care of me.” you mumble, looking at him. your eyes soft with a crave for his affection. he couldnt help but smile, pulling away to put his hand on your cheek, rubbing it gently.

you didnt know what to say, watching at his eyes went from your eyes to your lips. his thumb brushing against your lower lip. “can i give you a kiss, please?” he asks, licking his lips. before you can fully nod, his lips sit on yours, moving gently. he gives you a breather, guiding you gently to the bathroom.

one of his hands on your hip as he sat you down on the toilet seat. he turned around to turn on the bath, letting it warm up. “can you undress for me?” he asks you, sitting at the edge of the bath to keep his eyes on you.

you nod, standing up. you pull your long sleeve shirt over your head, taking it off completely. scars from your hands to your shoulder. your chest was restricted by your push up bra, which made your chest feel tight. “can i have help?” you asked with a soft grin on your face. he nodded and stood up, walking to you.

he placed one hand on your back to relax you, soothing your nerves before unclipping your bra, letting it fall off your body. he turns you around, one hand cupping your breast, rubbing it gently. “can you do the rest, princess?” he asks, kissing your forehead.

you nod and he walks away, taking his seat at the edge of the bath. you undressed further and got into the bath. the warm water soothed your aching body. even though some of the water made your thighs burn, having chris there made you forget.

everyday for the next few weeks he would watch you get dressed, ask if your okay and what your plans are. he would give you hourly kisses which lasted atleast a quater of an hour. he constantly checked your wrists and thighs and when you reached milestones he would take you out and treat you like a princess.

the end!

[awritessomething]

can we get jealous!brock, with smut maybe?!! pls!!

𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐞 | brock purdy x fem!reader

Masterlist Requests

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 | Brock saw his wife getting friendly with one of his teammates. It’s unacceptable.

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 | smut, pre established relationship, piv, rough sex, dom!brock, sub!reader, unprotected sex, creampie, belt, jealous!brock, slight breeding kink, aftercare

Brock asked his wife if they could throw a party with some of his teammates at their house. It was something that they had never done before so initially he was a little bit nervous to ask her. To his surprise, she agreed and even helped him set up.

It wasn’t going to be a big alcoholic loving party or anything of that sort. If anything, it would be more of a dinner party. Y/N was cooking ribs and some other foods. Brock was cleaning up the house and getting everything set up.

When his teammates arrived at the Purdy household, Y/N was the one to welcome them in. They all sat in the living room for a while and hung out. They had some drinks and a couple of snacks before going in for dinner. It was the first time most of them ever really met Brock’s wife. She was wearing a nice dress. It wasn’t too flashy, but it was decently formal. Brock thought she looked gorgeous.

As the night went on, Y/N got more comfortable with everyone. She held up the conversations and kept them happy. Brock admired her for it for a while, but then for some reason, he got a bit jealous. She seemed to be focusing more on them than she was focusing on him. He wasn’t much of a jealous guy so it didn’t make sense, yet that didn’t really matter to him.

He did his best to make it look like he wasn’t bothered with how his wife was talking to his teammates, yet it was hard. He continued to converse with everyone, yet his eyes were almost always on her instead.

A few hours later, the very last of the men left the house. Brock immediately grabbed his wife by the wrist. His eyes narrowed on her.

“What was that, Y/N?” Brock hissed. She looked up at her husband, obviously confused as to what in the world he was going on about. She looked absolutely perplexed.

“What do you mean?”

“Flirting with my teammates? I expected better, even from you.” He muttered. She blinked, then she realized what was going on.

“Are you jealous?” She teased, nudging him on the chest. Brock huffed and looked away.

“No.” He retorted.

“Yes, you are.”

“No, I’m not.” That went on for a while. Eventually, Brock lost his patience. He grabbed the end of her dress and tugged it up so it was bunched up around her hood. She gasped from the sudden and unexpected exposure. Brock touched the lace panties that she wore, then she ripped them into two. Y/N arched her back towards him.

“Brock, please…” she whined for him, desperately trying to pull off his belt or tie or just anything. Brock pushed her hands away.

“Shut it.” He growled into her ear. Y/N nibbles on her lip to try and keep herself quiet. It seemed like he wasn’t happy with that either. Brock’s hand went to her waist, turning her around before bending her over the nearest surface which was a couch this time. She let out a sharp gasp as the air was knocked from her lungs.

Brock yanked off his belt and this time, he didnt throw it aside. He wrapped it around her waist and tightened it.

His pants were the next to go, shortly followed by his boxers. His tip pressed up against her entrance, teasing it and also occasionally bumping against her clit.

Without warning, he shoved his way inside of her. The air was knocked from her lungs.

“Brock!” She cried and dropped her head. Her legs were shaking and her eyes were rolled back. He was being mean tonight. His deep thrusts started immediately, he didnt ease into it like usual. His balls slapped her clit and she could no longer even say anything. Her brain was complete mush.

One hand was holding onto the belt, using it as a way to drag her back to meet his thrusts. The other hand was on her ass, squeezing it. Brock leaned down, lips brushing against her ear.

“Could any of them make you scream like this? Hm?” Brock hissed into her ear. Y/N tried to respond to him, yet it was impossible. “That’s what I thought.” He scoffed and straightened back up. She always thought that she got more turned on when he was being sweet and loving. Maybe that was still the case. Yet she had never reached her climax as fast as she did now.

Her eyes were rolled right into the back of her head, drool coming from her lips. She was too cockdrunk to even be able to do anything but just twitch. Her body completely gave out, so Brock released the belt and just held onto her hips to keep her from falling.

It only took a few more thrusts before he was nearing his finish as well. He grunted and his hands tightened.

“Damn- I’m gonna have to get you pregnant, yeah? I’ll show everyone who you— fuck— belong to.” Brock groaned into her ear and then pushed himself in as deep as he could go. For a moment, Y/N believed he had just shoved his way right into her womb.

Long spurts of his cum filled her, a short roll of his hips dragging more and more out. Brock held onto her tight and then slowly pulled out. He grabbed her before she could collapse.

Picking her up, Brock carried her to their bedroom. His cum was leaking down her thigh. He scooped it up on his finger and then pushed it into her again. She sniffled at the overstimulation.

Brock got her tucked in, then he ran off to fetch a glass of water. He brought it back for her and laid down beside her.

“Are you ok? I was a bit mean,” Brock whispered, pressing a kiss to her cheek. She hummed.

“Never been better.”

[i-cant-sing]

Saya want know how Qasim look,are you have proposal?(≡・x・≡)

(pics below) Qasim, the brother, is older than reader by 5 years. He has chocolate brown hair, thick messy locks, and green eyes. He's gifted with eiditic/photographic memory which made him excel in school and he obviously had a high IQ as well. Doesnt mean reader thinks he's intelligent. Sure, Qasim is book smart, but he's not- street smart. Y/n has been the one to often make him realise that his friends were taking advantage of him by making him do their homework, or that they were laughing at him not with him because of his intellect. But reader chalks it up to his sweet nature, her goody-two-shoes of a brother who was hafidh (memorised the Quran) would always be the forgiving person. Its not that he was a pushover, he just... preferred to be the bigger person. Always. He'd chuckle and ruffle your hair "so what if I cleaned up their mess? it only took me 5 minutes and the job was done. Its okay, Y/n." He's always so selfless. You used to worry that he'd get hurt because he's too kind, you used to think he couldnt stand up for himself because he just didnt know when to- but no. Qasim was quite protective over you. When he saw you trying to tackle one of his so-called bullies, the boy towering over you (but you dont consider the height advantage, not when youre a raging kitten), Qasim stepped in and landed a single punch that knocked him down. (then big bro had to spend the rest of the day consoling u because you made him fight someone- and in ur head, that was the biggest sin u made him commit).

Qasim in Arabic means "the generous one" or "the one who shares", and being the older bro, he took his name quite literally. You were the younger sibling, the spoiled brat, the princess! But Qasim never had any problems with sharing anything with you, be it materialistic things or advice or even knowledge. You memorised Quran by his help (because u were competitive) and he had the extraordinary patience of a saint. You two would often participate in competitions at the local mosque just to get the cash prize and help your parents a bit (they never took ur guys money, encouraging u to either save it or spend it on something). Since both of your parents worked long hours, you two were left unsupervised for a long time and that only meant genius yet chaotic shenanigans, including prank calls to the pentagon hq.

Qasim grew up to get a lot of full ride scholarships from top colleges, and once he did his masters (a STEM major), he decided to start his own travel agency, surprising everyone because it seemed like something he wouldnt do? Everyone expected him to go into sciences, but he said he liked to travel and see the world, and Qasim told you that he enjoys running his own business, being your own business.

You supposed it made sense because he was a polyglot and he did enjoy learning new things and seeing new places, their history, etc. Due to his job, he would be gone for long months at a time, but he never returned empty handed. His arms full of souvenirs and sweets and BOOKS! Its not that he bought them for u, no. He bought those books for himself, but once he read them- he's already memorised it and he doesnt have anymore space in his home for more books, so he's always dropping them by your place (as kids, u made him memorise the phonebook before hiding the entire neighbourhoods phone books and had people pay to use your brother's memory for contacts, which was a good business until your father busted it down).

Qasim is the softest, kindest, most generous person. Even though he has a busy schedule due to work, he always made time for you. Whenever he came by, especially during your finals season, not only did he help you study, but he would also stock up your fridge and made sure to do some maintenance around your house. Fridge not working? Qasim has the tools, and if you werent so tied up with studying, you wouldve freaked out over him disassembling your fridge like lego. Sink clogged? No need for the plumber, Qasim knows the right potion of chemicals to unclog it. He's always been the one to prefer to do things himself, by his hand rather than relying on help.

what do u guys think???

[the-fandom-is-now-my-life]

Saw alotta dis so uhh.. Is aether an option by any chance?

The creator had:

Twin blonds

WC: 900~

I actually really like aether, I tend to characterize him as rather wholesome, at least in his traveler form.

I'm sure that traveler aether would be so much shier about his attraction that you would have to start any intimate interaction while abyss aether is more forward with his attraction.

“Thanks for the help traveler, without your help we wouldn't be able to hold the celebration” Aether is famously known across teyvat for how helpful he is, always so eager to take the load off of anyone's shoulders.

“let me give you a reward"

“Hm? Ningguang already gave me the reward” looks at you curiously, maybe there was a mistake while arranging this? After all, the commission was a last second thing.

“I know that, I meant a more personal reward, only if you wanted” finally noticing the innuendo he swallows hard, swiftly looking over at paimon to find her swallowing canapes and desserts but seemingly the time he spent thinking about it made you think it was a refusal “oh, well, nevermind, let's enjoy the party” you pass bye him towards the entrance but he stops you, a firm hand around your arm.

“I didn't mean it like I don't want, I just… Didn't expect it, I guess” seeing him so cute you can't help yourself and lean forward, your lips half open, an invitation that he soon takes.

A while later you both appear in the party, alibis pointing to each other being somewhere different.

“didnt expect you to come here so soon” as you open the door you see the prince standing in the middle of your room, an almost indistinguishable shape amongst the shadows.

“I would say the same. I would have expected you to stay in the party for a while longer, your grace”

Your hands signal a burgundy splatter on the top “drunkard's accidents. I came to clean myself” you walk the the wardrobe, pulling another tunic from there “I also saw a hydro mage in the garden from one of the second floor windows and guessed your would be here or arrive soon”

He sighs sitting down on your bed “I held some hope they would be more careful with this mission but seems I was wrong. I hoped I would be able to talk with you when you came after the party”

“almost everyone is drunk and I greeted everyone important, I can spare some minutes"

“I will make sure to use them wisely then”

“Won't you even tell me where your lover is from?” Nahida is sitting criss-cross playing stacking cubes with the blond children, a set of twins.

“I’m sorry but I won't” you see her shoulders slouch while she builds a block tower with the twins, almost disappointed.

“Could it be kaveh? They are blond like him” she pops up an idea, seeing how fixated the girl twin was with building the tallest column and how the boy was focus.

“Fine, will tell you he isn't from Sumeru” even if she seemed bummed out about it at least she sighed and stretched her legs.

“Well… technically his mom is fontanian now so maybe...”

“It's not kaveh.”

“Finee”

“Such energetic toddlers” Raiden watches from the top of the stairs, two eleven month olds trying to learn how to walk and repetitively failing and rising to try again.

“Yes, I had to get a nanny for each if them, whenever I left them in their playpen at least one would sneak out and start crawling around, I was worried they would try to go up the stairs and hurt themselves”

“Ah!” The boy yelps as he manages to stand up for a second but falls down after attempting his first step. Before he starts wailing his sister pats his back.

“ I will miss him” Nahida pouts, her eyes almost glassing over. The twins had reunited at last and left, not without giving all a hug, yours being particularly long and specially melancholic.

“You know” you say as you put your hand on her head, the archons standing alongside you “we will have something to remind us of him” she looks up at you curiously with her wet eyes.

“indeed, the changes they produced in our nations won't be easily forgotten and we will be able to remember him because of it”

“That might be true, zhongli, but I meant something else, something that will grow alongside us” nobody said a word, the meaning totally understood by all of them. Nahida hugs your leg and zhongli rests a hand on your shoulder blade.

“Prince did you manage to make the purest grace to agre with our plan and make the nations surrender?” a cryo mage speaks the next morning, rubbing his hands together.

“I didn't manage to cramp that in, when their grace wasn't present people started looking for them”

“I understand…” even if he wanted to doubt him what he did in that while he knew that wouldn't end nicely for him.

“Aetherrr”paimon whines over his shoulder, tugging the loose hairs behind his ears “we spent 20 minutes looking at toys”

“I want to give nice and thoughtful gifts to their grace's children” aether ignores her, still wondering if buying more furniture for their dollhouse or a Natlan sport ball. Both of them play doll house and football but which would be best?

“Just give them whatever, I doubt anyone would spend so much thinking about their gift. Just because they are twins and you are a twin doesn't mean you share any special link”

“yeah, you are right” it's not because of that reason that he is so focused but at least it works as a common excuse of seeing himself and his lost sister in them.

“Now will you hurry?”

“Haha, no”

[omgwhatchloe]

things i think would make modern au van der linde members cry!!

SEAN

- genuinely algebra i can see him sobbing and going "i cant do it while angrily scribbling his work out

- the thought of his da being bullied at work (his da would never get bullied at work, his da probably is the bully.)

- arthur, lenny and dutch genuinely being mean to him

- when no one did ANYTHING for his birthday and he realised he wasnt having a surprise party either (this is completely because he had never mentioned when his birthday was before and no one could've known)

JOHN

- if jack ever drew a picture of him at kindergarten or whatever when asked to draw his hero or someone he loves

- if he got promised fast food then the person who promised it came back without fast food

- thoughts about funerals

- when abigail brings up what he used to say about her just to get a laugh from bill freaking williamson + how he treated jack when he was younger

LENNY

- getting up for work at 5am after falling asleep at 2am

- if he was hungry all day and the first meal he ate tasted like shit

- his birthdays he hates getting older

- when sean said he was moving back to ireland and he only realised hours later he was joking

- when the boys made a mess out of his room when they all got drunk and left it for him to clean

HOSEA

- videos about children suffering like any kind of suffering because he has such a soft spot for them

- thoughts of john and arthur being isolated/bullied

- when he thinks about his illness

- bessie.

- seeing john make slideshows/videos about how much he loves him and dutch thinking they wont see it (tears of joy)

DUTCH

- also thoughts about john and arthur being isolated/bullied

- hosea’s illness

- when hosea wanted to plan his funeral

- arthur repeatedly declining his calls

- john saying he wants to die as a joke

BILL

- if he ever bought fast food and dropped it and didnt have enough money to buy anymore

- sad dog videos and gets even sadder when he cant

- adopt them all

- if dutch ever expressed disappointment towards him

- the boys going out without him

JAVIER

- his family he left behind

- seeing his wanted poster, not because he’s wanted but because they made him ugly and plastered it everywhere

- getting drunk then losing the boys in the club

- finding a bug in his room because he’s going to feel super uncomfortable trying to sleep in there for the whole night

MARY-BETH

- a cat being mean to her

- miss grimshaw yelling at her (she’s sensitive)

- scary climate change videos

- when karen went missing for three days and everyones theories on where she was got too upsetting

CHARLES

- first time he saw arthur cough up blood

- his fake scenarios to sad music that would never in a million years happen

- when he sees kids being picked on

- losing his airpods at 3am and having to try to sleep to the sounds of sean and lenny playing roblox through the wall

KIERAN

- being constantly left out

- the boys talking bad about him thinking he wont know

- horse girl videos where the horses are being mistreated

- being given gifts just because someone saw it and thought of him

MOLLY

- hearing the girls talk badly about her

- also being left out

- seeing happy relationship videos

- dutch refusing to hold her when they slept

- When one of the few presents she got for her birthday was a $2.99 necklace from dutch she saw on sale at Walmart a day before

ABIGAIL

- if jack ever got upset about how john acts towards him

- hosea's illness

- the girls all going out for a girls night but she cant because of jack

- when john called her ugly and other names behind her back because he wanted to fit in

- when she was on her period, had the worst day at work ever and john walked into the room with a buzz cut

[mythicmanuscripts]

omg so excited!! haha i was wondering if i'd submitted too many asks and tumblr was telling me i needed to take a break lol!

could we maybe see omega!jace in heat? maybe after mating when they're comfy with each other, and just how it typically goes? literally needy, clingy, sensitive jace gives me life haha - thank you!!

Absolutely anon, absolutely!!

NSFW subby omega!Jace below the cut. As always all a/b/o stuff will be tagged with 'a/b/o hotd' so if you want to avoid this content then just block that tag :))

Right firstly, needy, clingy, sensitive Jace is just Jace. He's always like that.

I definitely think that Jace being so sensitive definitely carries on into his heat. He's VERY particular about fabric and scents during his heats, even more so than usual. Before you started courting him, he would have to have sets of linen and blankets washed twice and then carry them up to his room himself for his nest to ensure there were no other scents in his nest at all during his heats. He didnt even want his mother's scent there. Usually he can enjoy laying with everyone but closer to his heats literally every single scent is too much for him.

Until he met you and then things changed. Jace has loved your scent from the moment he met you and he only became more obsessed with it once he got to know you. He was a bit worried as his first heat since meeting you drew closer because he actually thought he might be repulsed by your scent during a heat like he is with everyone else's scents.

He sets up his nest with his new linen and blankets with no scents at all like he usually needs. Until... until he wakes up the next morning in heat and everything feels so wrong because he can't find your scent anywhere. He ends up having to call someone to fetch a blanket from your bed because he just couldnt stop crying and couldnt settle and needed your scent.

After that, he spends every heat before you mate him in a nest covered in your scent (honestly he might just kick you out of your own room and stay there for his heat).

Anyway, let's get back to the actual ask and discuss how heats normally go with him after the matings.

The most important part for him is ensuring the only scents in his nest are yours and his. If his siblings or mother spent any time in his nest then anything they touched must be removed. You always know when Jace's heat is upcoming because you'll begin to notice some of your clothes are missing (he hoards them in his own closet and then uses them in his nest right before hie heat starts).

We all know that Jace is so sweet and kind and wants nothing more than to please you , to please his alpha. However, the only exception to this is heats. The moment his heat starts he becomes a whiny, needy little shit who will cry if you move too far to the left and will just grab you and move you in whatever position he wants.

You, of course, just let him do it. You focus on complementing him and kissing him softly and praising him. You make sure he's always in your arms and let him have you in whatever way he wants.

And he's always just... so sweet? He begs so nicely and politely and when you tell him to move he always does. He trusts you to look after him, and he knows if he needs something you will help him always.

I also think you'd have to be very good at keeping him clean? You always make sure to clean him up between waves. Most omegas couldn't care less about being covered in slick and cum but Jace absolutely HATES it and if you let him fall asleep without cleaning him up then he will be SO unhappy when he wakes up and he won't let you help him until he's cleaned himself up.

[lana-llama-in-pajamas]

thick as blood

sweet as milk

pt.3

you woke up sore and oddly over heated, you opened your eyes to see something a 12 year old boy would dream up both the twins cuddled up to you arms hugging you close, you looked down to see you were in a nightgown and they were in slips they possibly wore under their dresses from last night. Els leg was wrapped in cellophane probably fearful of the wound bleeding through you smiled softly looking up at your ceiling hearing their breathing synced together, the smell of their French perfumes with the combination of sweat was actually pretty calming (damn twins are in your bed even before Francis 💀)

you closed your eyes again wanting to catch a bit more rest before getting up for the day, what felt like minutes was actually an hour. you woke up again with the twins gone, you got up rubbing your eyes walking out to the living room hearing talking "you think she's even eaten a meal a day?" a deeper feminine voice asked it wasn't the twins " I don't think you could call bread and jam a meal" another voice said, you peeked in the kitchen to see the twins, mia and gloria all in the kitchen. gloria cooking on the stove as mia and sel unpacked groceries putting them in the proper places, elenois sat at the window mixing something in a bowl. you felt so cared for, your pain from your injuries disappearing for a second, you got caught by mia who walked over with selenne "your awake! so sorry we let ourselves in dear" mia hugged you gently before selenne wrapped her arm around your shoulders "you should go shower we're making brunch" you nodded "no worries miss stone but please send me the receipt for the food" you spoke softly realizing your voice was still strained "oh don't insult me y/n I'm not hurting for money, now go get cleaned up I'm gonna make some tea" she pushed you to the bathroom making selenne giggle walking back to the kitchen

you did strip yourself of your slip and bandages examining yourself in the mirror, bruises kissed your body with indents of the stairs in your back. the memory of the creatures claws ran across your legs with your ankle matching Elenois, it was lightly scarred so you washed yourself gently hissing anytime you had to bend down. you left the shower walking back to your room to change, the girls brought out the table into the living room filling it foods and spare plates, you changed into something less formal putting on some music to lighten your mood

everyone gathered in the livingroom, sitting and passing plates as gloria sat near you looking over your vinyls ¨you do got some bad bruises baby¨ she gently grabbed your arm looking it over, you hissed a little making her let go ¨sorry baby¨ she handed the first loaded plate to you ¨come sit and eat, we know damn well you havent had a vegtable since you came in¨ you smiled thanking the sweet woman trying your best to be polite while eating but she was right you were starving, honestly its a miracle you were able to fight the equivelent of a animal on bread, fruit jam and milk alone. everyone ate and talked as gloria filled your plate to replace what you had ate whispering ¨your in your home, eat with the hunger you have¨ hearing that had you eating mouthfuls only listening to the conversation instead ¨natcha and her little one wouldve come but natcha didnt want her to overwhelm you with questions¨ mia said to you ¨she got you and the twins flowers though¨ you nodded finishing your 2nd plate ¨ill need to send her a thank you note soon¨ everyone nodded in agreement as a knock was heard at the door, you got up wiping your mouth opening it slowly to show most of the men ¨honey i thought you were at work¨ gloria asked as everyone walked over ¨i was but im on lunch, here you go miss l/n your one courageous little lady¨ arnold passed you a small bouquet and kissed his wife good bye then one after another your other neighbors gave you gifts of gratitude, even lois margeret and raftellyn came in with food n flowers low key inviting themselves in.

at the very end natasha came and held up a tin tray to you ¨my mom is at work but she made this for you or whatever¨ you smiled taking the tray and placing on on the table with everything else ¨your mom does so much tell her thank you for me¨ you bent down to talk with her ¨....yeah ok.....did it bite you? are you infected with something? my mom said you saved us and killed it or whatever, does that mean your a murderer or a monster killer?¨ she kept asking things making your head swim but luckily you had a savior ¨she's a monster killer. a hero little Natasha.¨ Francis said sternly also holding a gift in his hands ¨oooh ok....whatever bye hero lady¨ she said waving and walking out ¨here Natasha take a plate¨ mia walked over leading her back to her door ¨uh....um thank you ¨ you looked up blushing ¨for?¨ he asked putting down the basket of fruit and wine bottle in his hands ¨err...uh everything, carrying me, bringing me this¨ you gestured to the basket ¨telling the little one I'm a hero..¨ you looked down intimidated by his hard gaze ¨those gifts are from the DDD. I didn't get the memo we were making your apartment a floral shop.¨ it almost sounded like a joke but he said it so blankly with irritation ¨oh well would you like a pla-¨ ¨you didn't get her something?¨ Margarette said loudly ¨for shame young man she pulled a gun out what could you pull? a bottle of milk?¨ she laughed as the others giggled uncomfortably ¨like I said I didn't get the memo. but I will show my gratitude¨ you turned beet red wondering what he meant by this, the twins felt your forehead ¨you should sit, Francis please help yourself¨ they brought you back to the couch as Francis followed Lois made him a plate and sat right by him ¨aside from this loud mouth, I didn't know you had those types of muscles Francis" god you were uncomfy now "i carry crates of milk i think its self explanatory" he shot back making Lois flustered by the full stop, at this point you weren't sure if Natasha was his, it seems like he doesn't have a filter...or feelings.

soon the awkward feelings subsided and everyone talked about their jobs, marriage and mia's and the dr's wedding plans.

you were in the kitchen looking over your gifts, mostly flowers and chocolate but it seems the Dr. got you a jewelry set, and so did the cappuccin's. the flowers came with cards you read and stacked together, one stuck out to you .

the fruits basket and wine.

it was champagne and fancy fruits (just to set the scene mangos and kiwis were considered 'exotic' in this era) you read the card

dear y/n you did well, enjoy your week off. another agent will take your place so don't let your guard down completely but do relax. rex

you smiled grabbing 2 vases of flowers wondering where to put them. Francis put his plate in the sink staring at you as he leaned against it "...you know who also hasn't gifted you anything....Gauss" he spoke lowly, was he...talking gossip? "why do you think?" you entertained him preening one of the flowers "he feels emasculated. since he isn't the American hero he's pissed" he chuckled making you shiver a little, it made sense though gauss seemed the macho type but that didn't matter , it was the way he said 'American hero' it was very accented "are you not emasculated by me Francis?" you asked walking closer to him even if your knees started to feel like jelly with every step "not at all, i was raised by strong women." he looked down at your level as you could breath in his cologne, strong sweet and alcohol like. " Francis i wonder a lot of things about you" you spoke truthfully like his eyes pulled it out of you "i am a book y/n, you just have to open it and read" his face was so close to yours.

you were swooning, eyes fluttering as you could almost imagine his lips on yours. his cologne was like a drug putting you under, you were in a full day dream before hearing another dark quiet laugh "how unbecoming of you...you know so little about me and yet your ready to throw yourself at me" he held up your chin with his hand as if you were a dog.

he walked away excusing himself to everyone before walking out

you shuddered taking a deep breath hoping to smell him one last time "he teased me....the bastard teased me and left."

im sorrry it tookk so looooongg!!! but here it is my loves enjoy!!! let me know if you like or hate (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ)