#but the thought has definitely crossed his mind

[luv4arinn]

Bayverse!Raph as a Boyfriend Headcanons <3 (but I psychoanalyzed him way too much)

Parenting: Raph x Female Reader

Warnings: Low self-esteem, body dysphoria, this is more serious, sorry, yeah nsfw

This man is the definition of “I’m a mess, but if someone even looks at you, they’re dead.”

In the Bayverse movies, Raph carries a deep-seated resentment toward himself. It’s not just his aggressive attitude or his constant need to fight—deep down, he’s convinced that he doesn’t deserve anything good. And when it comes to love… God, it’s even worse.

In his mind, it’s impossible for someone to see him as anything other than a monster. Not a mutant, not a warrior, not a man—a monster. And even though he’d never say it out loud (because, to him, admitting it would give it power), every time he sees you—every time you smile at him, every time you talk to him like he’s not some freak of nature—his brain just short-circuits.

Because what could he possibly offer you?

Donnie has intelligence and could talk to you about a million fascinating things. Mikey would make you laugh and shower you with love without hesitation. Leo… well, Leo has always been the strong one, the one who makes the right decisions, the one who is everything he isn’t.

But him? He’s just Raph. Impulsive, hot-headed, stubborn, and with a track record of messing up at the worst possible moment.

And the worst part is that even though he loves you in silence, even though he wants you more than he’d ever admit, he would never dare to do anything about it. Because… what if you realize he’s not worth it? What if you snap out of it and realize you could have someone better? What if one day you look at him and see what he sees in the mirror?

That’s why Raph would never make the first move. He’d never stare for too long, never dare to cross that line. But his possessiveness would betray him. The way his brow furrows when you talk to someone else. How his jaw clenches when someone gets too close. How his knuckles go white when he feels like someone else has what he’ll never be able to have.

And if you do return his feelings… God, Raph won’t process it. He won’t believe it. He’ll convince himself it’s a mistake. That he’s going to ruin it. That he doesn’t deserve this—that you deserve better.

But if you prove him wrong—if you stay, if you choose him every single day—he’ll be the most fiercely loyal and protective person you could ever have by your side.

Because even if he never says it out loud, even if he never fully admits it, even if he still doesn’t quite believe it himself… knowing that someone sees him as more than a monster is the only thing that could ever heal the wounds he’s carried his entire life.

Raph doesn’t know how to love halfway. He doesn’t know how to be lukewarm, how to be indifferent. His love is a wildfire—one that consumes and leaves scars if left unchecked. And that’s exactly why he hides it. Because he’s afraid that if he lets it out completely, he’ll end up burning the thing he loves the most.

He’s a passionate lover. But not the kind who sweetens his words or whispers promises in hushed tones. No. Raph loves through actions. He loves by protecting, by holding on, by remembering every little detail, by always being there even when you don’t ask. His love is something you feel in the tension of his muscles when someone gets too close, in the way his gaze darkens when someone makes you laugh a little too much, in the way his hand—his massive hands—grip your waist as if you might disappear at any moment.

But as fiery as his love is, his insecurity is just as cold as a bucket of ice water. He’s not the type to throw tantrums or make a scene just because someone else talked to you. No. His jealousy is quiet, internal, corrosive. Not because he doesn’t trust you, but because he doesn’t trust himself.

Every time he looks at you, every time his eyes land on you, his mind is flooded with the same whirlwind of thoughts:

“God, she’s so beautiful.”

“I love her.”

“Mine.”

“Incredible.”

“I don’t know how she chose me.”

“She could have anyone else.”

…

“I don’t know how she chose me.”

“There are better men than me.”

That last thought is the one that hurts the most. Because no matter how many times you prove him wrong, no matter how many times you stay, no matter how many times you choose him over and over again—deep down, the idea that you could leave never fully leaves him.

That’s why he holds on, even if you don’t notice. Not in a desperate way, not in an obvious way. But it’s there. In how he always walks in a way that keeps his body between you and any other man. In how his fingers sometimes grip the fabric of your clothes just a little too tightly when you’re around others. In how his gaze turns sharp and lethal, even without saying a word.

Because Raph is a warrior. A soldier. A fighter.

But when it comes to love, he doesn’t fight with the same confidence.

Not because he doesn’t want to—

But because he doesn’t believe he has the right to.

Raph isn’t afraid of many things. Not of pain, not of fighting, not of facing an enemy who could kill him at any moment.

But he’s afraid of heights.

And he’s afraid of himself.

Sometimes, on the darkest nights, when the world is silent and there are no distractions to keep him occupied, that fear eats him alive. It burns through his chest like acid. Because he knows what he is. He knows he’s not like Leo, who can think before he acts. He knows he’s not like Donnie, who can analyze things without letting emotions cloud his judgment. He’s not like Mikey, who can let things go with a smile.

He is rage.

He is fire.

He is violence contained within a body too big and a mind too tormented.

And if that rage were ever directed at you…

That thought alone is enough to make his stomach twist. It sickens him, makes him want to throw up, to punch something just to distract himself from the possibility. Because Raph knows what it’s like to lose control. He knows what it’s like to feel his vision go red, to not realize what he’s doing until it’s too late.

But never, never could he allow that to happen to you.

And yet… he’s human. (Well, as close as he can be.) And he makes mistakes.

If you ever fight—if his emotions ignite like an uncontrollable wildfire, if the heat of the argument blinds him, if his voice rises until it becomes a roar—God, he doesn’t even realize what he’s saying. The words spill out like daggers, sharp and unfiltered, filled with frustration and things he doesn’t mean. And deep down, as every syllable poisons the air between you, his throat tightens, his tongue tastes foul, like he’s chewing on something rotten.

But that’s not the worst part.

The worst part is when, in an impulsive act—because he’s always impulsive—his fist slams into the wall right beside you.

The sound echoes. A sharp, heavy thud.

Loud. Too loud.

And when the dust settles, when the echo of his own fury stops ringing in his ears, that’s when he sees it.

Your eyes.

Wide open. Shocked. Scared.

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit.

That fear in your gaze hits him harder than any enemy he’s ever faced. It’s like a punch to the chest, a bullet straight to the heart. His breath catches. His entire body freezes, and the fire inside him—the one that fuels him, the one that’s always raging—suddenly dies out.

There are no words to describe what he feels in that moment.

Shame. Guilt. Self-loathing.

He’s not afraid that you’ll hate him. He’s afraid that you’d be right to.

That you’ll finally see what he’s always known: that he’s not good for you. That he’s dangerous. That no matter how much he loves you, his own nature will always be his worst enemy.

And if he ever loses you because of that…

He doesn’t even know if he’d be able to keep breathing.

Your footsteps fade into the distance, echoing against the damp concrete of the sewers, and Raph stays right where he is.

Still.

Not moving.

Not doing what every fiber of his being is screaming at him to do—run after you, stop you, grab you, tell you he’s sorry, that he didn’t mean to scare you, that he didn’t mean to make you cry.

But he doesn’t.

Because he can still see it in his mind. Your expression, that look in your eyes that wasn’t anger, wasn’t sadness—

It was fear.

God.

He clenches his fists and lowers his gaze. He wants to convince himself that he’s not following you because he’s too proud to apologize, because he hates admitting when he’s wrong (and he was wrong—he always is when it comes to these arguments). He wants to tell himself that it’s because he was already in a shitty mood from arguing with Leo earlier, that it’s not his fault his temper is a ticking time bomb.

But deep down, he knows the truth.

He doesn’t follow you because he’s scared.

Because what the hell is he supposed to say? What words could erase what just happened? How could he possibly fix this without making it worse?

So he does the only thing he knows how to do—

He hits.

His fist collides with the wall again, pain shooting through his knuckles like a reminder of what he is.

Of what he can’t change.

And yet, hours later, there he is.

Standing outside your window.

From out here, he can hear you. Not loud sobs, not heart-wrenching cries, but enough. Shaky breaths, the faint sound of your sniffles. And he—he almost turns around right then, almost runs because he doesn’t know if he can take it.

But he doesn’t.

Because he fucked up. And if anyone deserves to carry the weight of this, it’s him.

Slowly, he opens your window (locked, but you gave him a key). He makes no sound as he climbs inside, though the floor creaks slightly beneath his weight. He finds you sitting on your bed, gaze lowered. And when you finally lift your head and your eyes meet his—

It’s like the air is knocked right out of his lungs.

He doesn’t know what to say.

He’s never been good with words. Never known how to express what he feels without his tongue getting tied, without his voice betraying what he really means to say.

So when he finally speaks, his words are clumsy, short—

A failed attempt at explaining the unexplainable.

But you see it.

You see the way his shoulders slump, the way his eyes avoid yours like he’s not worthy of looking at you. You see the tension in his jaw, the war between his pride and his regret.

And then—he does it.

A step forward. Then another. And another.

Until he’s right in front of you.

His massive hands take hold of you with an impossible gentleness, and in one swift motion, he pulls you against his chest.

It’s firm. Warm. Encompassing.

There are no words that could say what this says.

His breathing is heavy, his heartbeat pounds against your ear. One arm wraps around you completely, the other cradles your head against his neck—like he’s making sure you can’t leave, like he can’t lose you again.

And then you feel it.

A faint touch against your hair.

A kiss.

He doesn’t say “I’m sorry” out loud. He doesn’t need to.

His actions say it all.

And you know it.

So yeah. Reconciliation.

But as he holds you, his forehead pressed against yours, his hand still gripping onto you like he’s terrified to let go—

Raph can only think one thing:

“I just hope I don’t fuck this up again. And if I do… God, please let her forgive me.”

Loving Raph is complicated.

Not because he isn’t worth it, but because he makes it difficult. Because every day is a battle against his own fears, against the thought that maybe—just maybe—he’s not enough for you.

But if you’re wondering about the… intimate side of things.

Well.

We all know Raph isn’t exactly innocent.

In his mind, he’s already had you in every way possible. He’s already imagined you gasping his name, cheeks flushed, breath ragged, looking at him like he’s the only thing that exists. He’s lost count of how many times he’s had to slip away, lock himself in the bathroom, and let his hand do the work while his mind recreates you in vivid detail—every little thing he’s memorized about you.

And when he really can’t take it, when the need is unbearable and his body begs for any kind of release, he just tells Mikey to sleep on the couch.

It’s selfish. He knows that. But he doesn’t care.

Because that night, he needs his space.

He needs your scent still lingering on his pillow, needs to bury his face in it and close his eyes while his hand moves at a frantic pace—imagining it’s your skin he’s touching, your mouth around him instead.

But outside of his mind, outside of his most desperate fantasies—

Things are… different.

So far, the farthest you’ve gone is mutual masturbation. And God.

He thought he was going to die when he felt your lips around his length, when your tongue slid along his shaft and your eyes met his. His back hit the wall, and he let out a groan so deep he swore someone in the lair must have heard him.

And when he had you riding his fingers, gripping onto his arm as you unraveled in his hand, he swore his self-control was hanging by a thread.

But he always stops there.

Because Raph is big.

Not just in size, but in strength, in intensity, in everything. And no matter how much you want him, no matter how many times you assure him that he would never hurt you on purpose, that fear is still there.

That damn fear of hurting you.

Because if he were human, he already would’ve had you. He would’ve taken you the way he’s supposed to, given you everything you want—everything he craves with every fiber of his being.

But he’s not human.

And even though his hands were made to protect you, he can’t stop thinking about what would happen if he ever slipped up. If he ever lost control.

Loving him is complicated, huh?

But if there’s one thing for sure—it’s that you could never get bored of him.

Because there’s something incredible about the way he holds you when he jumps across rooftops, the cold air hitting your face and the night sky reflecting in his golden eyes. There’s something addictive about the feeling of being in his arms, adrenaline rushing through your veins as he moves with lethal precision, like the city belongs to him.

And if you train with him… well, that’s a whole different story.

Because Raph loves seeing you strong, seeing you challenge him, seeing you throw punches at him with all the determination in the world. And even though he’d never admit it out loud, he enjoys it way too much when you sit on his shell while he does push-ups.

Not just because he likes the weight of you on him, but because every time he pushes up and down, he can feel your laughter against his neck, your presence wrapping around him like a second skin.

And God knows—there’s nothing in the world that makes him feel more complete than that.

[juyeoz]

˙ㅤ۪ 𓂋⠀FOR THE PLOT — AN 02z SMAU

029 ┆ death of him (1.2k words)

“In the punnett square, these two would cross each other because these two are dominant while the others are recessive.” Jake said while pointing at your notes with his pencil as he spoke.

“Do you get it?” 

“No.” You replied, making him chuckle at your words. 

“It’s okay, you’ll get there soon.” He said, reassuring you in the process. 

Jake repeated his previous explanation in a slower pace so you could understand better, and to your surprise, it partially helped.

You nodded along to the things he said while holding back a smile since you finally understood everything.

“How about now?” He asked, looking at you for any signs of confusion. You nodded and stared back at him, noticing something about the glasses that shielded his eyes.

Jake cocked his head at you, gesturing that if you had anything else to say to do just that. You were attentively staring at him anyway.

“Wait,” you said and leaned in closer to get a better look at him. Jake’s eyes widened at the sudden movement, his cheeks slowly warming up as time passed. He swallowed thickly with hope you wouldn’t notice his rosy cheeks and his quickening heartbeat. 

“What is it?” Jake asked, his voice was soft and slightly shaking.

“Are those the glasses I got you in fifth grade?” You asked, noticing the familiar rims.

“Yes… You finally noticed.” He said, placing the pen down on the table.

“I forgot they looked like that. They look nice on you.” 

“Thank you.” Jake said as you backed away from him. He cleared his throat in an attempt to suppress the previous emotions he felt and return to his normal self.

Although he was able to regain composure, the compliment you gave him stayed in his mind as well as your facial features. The ones he hadn’t seen that close up in a long time.

He still found you beautiful. There was no doubt about it. 

“Let’s continue.” He said quickly, getting rid of his thoughts from before.

“Okay.” You replied, smiling.

You were definitely going to be the death of him if you kept doing this.

“Are you good at math?” Jake asked as you shook your head. You weren’t the worst at the subject, but you weren’t the best either. It wasn’t your favourite subject as well.

Jake grinned as a memory played in his head. 

“Do you still hate it as much as you did in the past?”

“It sucks. Who would like such a thing?” Your face expressed disgust which left Jake happy. You haven’t changed at all.

He began packing up your belongings, leaving you confused.

“What are you doing?” You asked as you sat and watched his movements.

“I think you need a break. Would you like to get ice cream?” 

His words made you smile. You could truly go for a sweet treat at this exact moment. A grin grew on Jake’s face due to your excitement. Seriously, you didn’t change at all. 

The two of you left the cafe you studied at and made your way over to an ice cream parlor, talking about some memories from the past. 

“Layla still has that dog toy? Throw it out already! It looks like it has been through hell and back.” You said in disbelief. 

“I’ve tried. She loves it, (Name), I seriously can’t get rid of it or she’ll feel all down.” He said with a sigh. 

“I guess you’re right… But how come she can’t let it go? I mean, it’s been like eight years now, right?” 

You two always played with it together and you should come over sometime to see her again was what Jake wanted to say, but he didn’t. Instead he laughed it off with a shoulder shrug. 

“Not sure, it must mean a lot to her.” 

What a coward? It wasn’t like he was trying to flirt with you either, so, why was he too nervous to utter those words? He had no clue himself.

You, on the other hand, nodded at his words, not sure what to reply with. It seemed like an awkward response. However, that was normal from Jake. He was an awkward guy after all.

“Do you still love cookies and cream?” Jake asked while holding the door open for you. 

“I love it.” You replied while eyeing the flavours from afar. He snickered at your childishness and followed you to the cashier. 

“Get anything you want, it’s on me.” He said, causing you to turn around.

“Wait, let me pay you back at least.” 

“It’s fine. There’s no need for that, I had fun with you today. That’s enough.” He smiled. 

“Okay…” You mumbled while looking back at the worker to order your ice cream. Once you were done, Jake took over and ordered his own as the cashier tapped away at the screen in front of them.

You two waited at the pick-up station as the cashier from before scooped your flavours into their designated cups. 

The worker handed you two the ice creams as you both thanked them in the process. Luckily, it wasn’t that cold outside, making it a good day to have ice cream. 

“Do you want to take a seat at the park over there?” Jake asked while pointing at the specified area. You nodded in agreement and let him lead the way to the area.

Honestly, it reminded you of the old days in middle school. There were many times where you and Jake would get ice cream after school and stay in a nearby park. It was almost like a weekly routine when it became summer.

He missed the old days, but he was still happy with the new ones. You two were still able to reminisce good memories and create more the more you spoke and hung out. It felt nice and comforting to know for the both of you.

“Hey, can we take a BeReal?” You asked while looking at the boy beside you. 

“Sure.” He replied while waiting for you to do whatever you wanted. He knew they had to do with pictures but never did one on his own. He only recalled recognizing you through the one he saw on Nayeon’s phone.

If that never happened, you two wouldn’t have been this close again. Jake did whatever pose you asked him to do and you took the photo while doing your own pose. 

After, you two took a few more pictures with one another, eventually moving closer to each other to fit within the frame. 

The more your phone took pictures, the more your heart raced. You were hoping Jake didn’t hear a thing. However, Jake was hoping for the same thing too.

This was the second time his heart rate quickened near you today, and luckily for him, you didn’t catch on once. He wanted to keep it that way until he was ready to confess to you.

Once that day came and if you reciprocate his feelings, he didn’t have to hide how flustered you made him. 

You wouldn’t have to either if you confessed to him. Despite this, you were still unsure who you wanted to confess to. When you were with Sunghoon, you felt this exact way. As for Jay, it was definitely getting there. Especially after the day at their school’s Arts night. 

It was definitely a struggle to keep your composure, but in the end, you still got pictures with Jake, right?

PREVIOUS MASTERLIST NEXT

NOTE — i think i looped from the start by laufey when writing this….. So that’s the vibes here!!!!! (wrote this on jan 2nd i can’t remember)

ENHYPEN PERM TAGLIST — @miumura @macapunoz @ch4c0nnenh4 @ancnymcnzjy @i03jae @en-dream @firstclassjaylee @sunoo-bby @wensurr

FTP TAGLIST — @enhypenlovre @love-lee @ikeulove @mnhpuppy @httpenhoon @yeonmuse @modanisgf @wilonevys @starry-eyed-bimbo @immelissaaa @woniefull @mymelodyfanatic @hollxe1 @rikiiisoob @parkjjongswifey @coqhee @heirdollies @domfikeluva @miszes @eyesonlybutterflies @suhwife @yuniesluv @right-person-wrong-time @haechsworld @butterflywonz @leehsngs @ddolleri @multifandomlovers-posts @t1iqaa @itsactuallylina @bbsantc @sunghxxnie @mariwasneverthere @claumbeju @janjoonty @jvngw0nlvr @korikeu

© JUYEOZ

[lexiputellas]

Unfinished Business

Part 1

Today’s morning was uneventful. Routine, even. You woke up, got ready, debated between waves or a ponytail, eventually choosing waves. Breakfast was a slow affair, each bite dragging as if delaying the inevitable workday. By the time you arrived at the office, coffee in hand, you had fallen into your usual rhythm—settling in, checking emails, and, most importantly, catching up with the receptionist.

She has a new boyfriend. Or maybe he’s just a lover. She hasn’t quite decided yet, and you, naturally, need to know all the details. Maybe that was your mistake—getting too involved in gossip. If you had been more focused, you might’ve avoided what happened next.

You glance up and see Paige walking into the reception area. It’s been a few weeks since your last encounter, and you had convinced yourself that was the end of it. Apparently not.

She hasn’t spotted you yet. Maybe you should leave.

Shit—she sees you.

You try to read her expression, to gauge what kind of thoughts are running through her head. She turns to the receptionist and speaks first. “I have a meeting with…” She checks her phone. “Ah, my new agent. He should be expecting me.”

Thank God. It’s with your boss, not you.

Then she shifts her attention to you. Your mind races through every possible worst-case scenario, but she just gives you an easy smile and says, “Hi, I’m Paige. And you are?”

You blink. You know she knows exactly who you are. You also know what she’s doing.

“I’m part of the compliance team,” you answer.

Her smirk deepens. “Oh, so you do contracts?”

“Something like that.”

“Well, hope to see you more often.”

You have no words. None at all. You manage a polite excuse and retreat to your office, collapsing into your chair, replaying the entire interaction in your head.

Are you screwed? No. Definitely not. You mean, probably. Just not in the way you’re thinking right now.

You take a deep breath and sip your coffee.

The morning after, you did what any sane person in your situation would do—you told Paige to leave. Well, actually, you demanded it. Were you a little harsh? Probably. Did you regret inviting her over? No. But should you? Absolutely. It wasn’t professional.

With that, your mind drifts to past mistakes.

Do you have unresolved emotional issues? Absolutely. Did you break up with your ex because you thought she was about to propose? Yeah. Yeah, you did. Turns out, you were right—she was planning to propose.

But right now, you need to focus. You take another sip of your coffee, trying to snap yourself out of it.

And that’s when you see Paige again.

You nearly drop your cup.

She leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, amusement flickering in her eyes. “Wow. Didn’t know I was that scary.”

You set your coffee down before you actually spill it. “You’re not. I just… wasn’t expecting you.”

She raises a brow. “Expecting me to find out that you work for this agency?”

You huff out a laugh, rubbing your temples. “I mean, that too, to be fair.”

Paige steps further into your office, casually looking around before meeting your gaze again. “So… what are the chances you’re handling my contract?”

You shake your head. “That would be my boss.”

She grins. “Good. I’d hate for this to be awkward.”

You let out a dry laugh. “Right. Because it’s not awkward already.”

She leans over your desk slightly, lowering her voice just enough to make your pulse jump. “I have a feeling we’re going to be seeing a lot of each other.”

You roll your eyes, trying not to let her get to you. “I guess so.”

She tilts her head. “We should go out.”

You blink. “What?”

“You know, a drink, dinner, something fun.”

You scoff. “No.”

She looks amused. “No?”

You shrug. “I mean, I don’t see why—”

Paige smirks. “Maybe I should ask my agent to put you in my contract, you know, so we see each other really more often.”

That strikes you. No. No, you do not want to be in her contract.

You narrow your eyes. “If I go with you, will you drop this?”

She grins, triumphant. “Well, yes. But only if I choose the place.”

You sigh, defeated. “Fine. Just tell me the day, the time, and what I’m supposed to wear—because I’m not going anywhere undressed.”

Paige’s smirk turns downright mischievous. “Tonight.”

You blink. “What?”

She leans against your desk, clearly enjoying this. “I’m picking you up at eight. Wear anything you want. You look hot in anything.” Her gaze flickers over you, lingering just long enough to make your skin heat up.

You shrug, feigning nonchalance. “I mean, I know that. But oblivious as I am, give me a hint.”

She grins. “Something fancy, but not that fancy.”

You groan, already regretting this. “So, cryptic. Great.”

She winks. “See you at eight.”

And just like that, she’s gone, leaving you staring at your coffee, wondering what the hell you just agreed to.

Obs: This is a series, I’m not really good at tumblr, so bare with me! The reader (or OC, still undecided) works in the contracts department of an agency for professional athletes. She doesn’t interact with them directly—she just handles contracts. Meanwhile, Paige has just been drafted to her new team!

[dreamingkitsunewrites]

【Ｗｈｅｎ　ｙｏｕ　ｓｍｉｌｅ．．．】

A small gift for a special person... @cmdrfupa . Happy Bday,Lu!!! ʚ♡ɞ

It's a well-known fact that Toji Fushiguro has always had a tendency to forget things. He was notorious for leaving his son at Kindergarten, for overlooking the forgotten leftovers languishing in the fridge, and for missing out on important meetings that could have led to lucrative deals Shiu painstakingly negotiated on his behalf. Yet, despite this forgetfulness that seemed to define him, there was one thing he could never, ever forget: every intricate detail about you. 

From the moment you stepped into his life, it was as if every facet of your being—both the mundane and the profound—was etched into his memory. You were undeniably special, a fact he realized the instant his dull eyes caught sight of your enchanting smile. That smile, radiant and warm, could light up the darkest corners of the Earth, and definitely lit up his black and white world, igniting a warmth within him he hadn't known he still craved. 

But it wasn’t just your smile that captured his heart; it was your vibrant personality that swept him off his feet before he even registered your presence. Toji had always been averse to flatness, which explained his disdain for most people around him. But you? You were a breath of fresh air, the perfect antidote to his solitary existence. Your witty banters left him momentarily speechless, a delightful surprise that exposed his ‘asocial tendencies’ in the most charming way when you two happened to cross paths at the gym. 

He had always preferred working out alone before you, his earphones a clear barrier to anyone who dared to approach. His piercing gaze often sent those eager to flirt packing, even as they admired the way his sweaty tank top clung to his chiseled physique. Yet, he couldn't care less about the attention; in fact, he relished in the solitude. He wasn’t there to make friends, and he wasn’t shy about letting anyone know it, leaving flustered admirers in his wake.

But then you came along, your playful remark cutting through his carefully constructed defenses. He regretted not being able to read lips because he could only imagine the clever quip you had thrown his way that first time, one that made everyone around you laugh, their eyes darting between you and him. He had been so captivated by your presence that he had lost focus, accidentally dropping his weights with a loud thud, the sound echoing in the gym like a declaration of his newfound interest.

From that moment on, he was hooked. He knew he was over for him the second his mind started racing with a hunger to know everything about you. He would steal glances your way, noticing the colors of the gym set you wore, the graceful way you folded your sweatshirt before placing it over the barbell, and how effortlessly you drew people into conversation. For the first time in a long time, he cared about how someone perceived him, and that scared him as much as it thrilled him.

As your friendship blossomed, the two of you began to share meals together after hours at the gym, becoming the last two souls in the building time and again. With each dinner, he grew more comfortable around you, enchanted by your ability to put everyone at ease. He even began to notice your preferences—your favorite drinks, your go-to dishes. By the time your third “non-date” rolled around, he could order for you without a second thought.

And then came that night. The night when too many drinks blurred the lines of friendship and ignited the subtle spark that had always been simmering beneath the surface. Finding himself in your cozy apartment, he became acutely aware of every detail, every corner witnessing a part of your story, the same story he hoped to become part of. 

The following night left an indelible mark on his memory: the scent of your conditioner mixed with the intoxicating aroma of your skin, the soft glow of the evening light illuminating your features in between your sheets. Every moment was a memory he replayed repeatedly in his mind.  You were everything he had longed for and even more, and he was definitely ready to relive that magic as often as you would let him.

But the morning after was a different story. Awkwardness hung in the air, and after that fateful morning, you fell out of contact just as he was leaving on a mission.  Right person, wrong time they say… He had never cared much for one-night stands, but this time felt different; the certainty that he had fucked up big time still gnawed at him. Did you regret it? Should he have reached out first? Would you ignore him if he returned to the gym and acted as if nothing had happened? The questions swirled in his mind. It felt like reliving the nightmare of teenage crushes at his age and he hated it.

But he already had a plan—an idea sparked by the memories of you that constantly danced in his thoughts. 

...

Standing outside your apartment, a gift clumsily wrapped in a way too colorful paper clutched in his hands, he felt a wave of ridiculousness wash over him. He held his breath as he knocked, fearing you might reject him, or worse, hit him with the gift in a fit of laughter. Yeah, you were probably capable of that…The door cracked open, and the lively music from inside spilled out into the hallway. Your eyes widened in surprise when you recognized him. And you weren't attacking him yet, which was already a victory.

“Toji…” you breathed, eyes wide in surprise, and he had to tear his gaze away from your full lips, feeling words stick in his throat. He simply couldn't believe all of the memories he held on so dearly for the past weeks were now materliased right in front of him.

“Happy Birthday… may I enter?”

[quiet-night-sky-writers-blog]

Belated date

Pairing: Marc Spector x gn!Reader

Rating: -

Word count: 1k

Summary: Marc forgot about Valentine's day

Warnings: none, just fluff💕

Author's note: A lot of appreciation to sweet @mylittledelulucorner for inspiring me with her incredibly beautiful post and allowing me to fantasize about this situation. And even though I'm a bit tardy with this fic, since Valentine's day has already passed; I'm the same as Marc - I did the right thing, just a little later😅

━━━━━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━━━━━

Utterly exhausted, Marc opens your apartment door; the silence in the dark rooms tells him that you're already asleep. He glances at the face of his wristwatch: 11:37 p.m. Quietly cursing, he sighs vexedly and wanders into the bathroom. This mission has dragged on for four whole days, and he's missed you terribly. As he hurried home, he hoped to spend the evening with you.

After a quick shower, he climbs into your bed and, trying not to wake you, embraces you from behind, pulling you close. However, you're not asleep: he realizes it when you remove his arm from around your waist without saying a word. Perplexed, Marc lifts himself up on his elbow and looks into your face.

- Baby? What's wrong?

Getting no answer, he tries to touch you again, but you pull away.

- What the hell is going on?! - he's already a little angry.

- Do you know what day it is? - you finally utter, not looking at him. Your voice is soaked with resentment.

- Friday, I guess. Why?

- Nothing, - tears gather in the corners of your eyes, and you bury your nose into the pillow, clutching the corner of the blanket with your cold fingers, - good night, Marc.

The man rolls over onto his back and irritably runs his palm over his face. Why did everything have to be so lousy tonight? And what, after all, had he done wrong?

He doesn't want to be in your bed anymore.

With a heavy sigh, he rises to his feet, drags himself to the kitchen, and when he turns on the light, he freezes. On the counter there are two tall candles in elegant candlesticks and an unopened bottle of wine.

- What the fuck... - Marc mumbles puzzled.

Today is definitely not your birthday - he would never forget that date. And it's not your anniversary, either, since you met in May. Suddenly a memory flashed through his mind: the smiling guy with the huge bundle of red and pink heart-shaped balloons Marc had bumped into on the street. It seems like he'd offered to buy one, but Marc had just waved him off, hurrying to get home to you.

Finding his phone, Marc looks at the date on the screen.

- Fuck me... - he groans. Well, at least he was right about one thing: it's really Friday.

When you wake up the next morning, Marc isn't there with you. In fact, he isn't even home. Of course - he's just left you again. Off to save the world again. Or something. You get ready and leave for work without even having breakfast - you don't want to be alone in your empty apartment anymore. At least at work you can get your mind off your gloomy thoughts and your burning resentment toward your boyfriend, so you're even glad today's your shift. 

Marc comes home with an armful of dark red roses, the most perfect he could find after driving through nearly a dozen flower stores this morning. All the way home, he mentally rehearses a speech in which he apologizes to you for his oversight in missing the holiday. And when it turns out that the one for whom this speech was intended has already left without waiting for him and his apology - he literally howls with frustration.

When you cross the threshold of your apartment in the evening, your nose immediately catches the mouth-watering aroma of pasta. Your empty stomach rumbles, and you rush towards the kitchen, already a bit cheered up. The slight smell of burning that you suddenly recognize is a little unsettling, but at least Marc is here, with you; even if he did start a small fire - you two can handle it. Just as long as he doesn't burn his eyebrows off...

- Hey, - you almost bump into your boyfriend, who appears in the doorway, blocking your path.

- Hey, - you echo, - it's nice to see you and your eyebrows.

- Thanks, whatever that means, - Marc smiles, - um... you better not go in there yet.

- But you've got food in there! - you protest, - and I'm awfully hungry!

- Come on, - he puts his hands on your shoulders, turns you around, and gently nudges you toward the living room.

The room looks like a picture from Pinterest. It’s bathed in the soft light of a dozen candles, and roses - roses everywhere. By the window, exquisitely, as if in a fancy restaurant, a table is set up, on which dinner is already waiting for you: homemade pasta and wine. And on the sofa rests a huge bouquet of noble red roses, their stems tied with the same red ribbon.

You're speechless, and for a few moments you just flap your eyes in confusion. Marc's arms around your waist and the touch of his warm lips on your cheek bring you to your senses.

- Marc, - you exhale quietly, - it's... it's...

- I'm sorry, - he whispers, - I screwed up yesterday.

- Yeah, you did.

- Look, I... I just lost track of time, and I didn't even know what date yesterday was until you... until you reminded me. But I do care, I swear.

You snuggle back against his strong chest, letting the warmth of his embrace envelop you, and smile dreamily, biting your lip.

- I love you, - he leans down and runs the tip of his nose along your neck, - and I don't need a single, specific day of the year to tell you that.

- I love you, - you purr and reach for his lips.

Your kiss is so long awaited and sweet that you forget about everything in the world. Marc pulls away first and smiles at you.

- Please come to the table - so long as your dinner isn't cold.

At the word «dinner» you remember you're starving.

- Will you tell me what happened in the kitchen?

- No. But I'll clean up everything.

━━━━━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━━━━━

Comments / reblogs are incredibly meaningful! Please support your content creators!🫶🏻

[evamame]

comfort for your longest and hardest days ft. kageyama tobio

part 3 of this series of how haikyuu men comfort you after having a bad day cw: sfw, fluff, kageyama x gn!reader, established relationship, angst to fluff, comfort word count: 973 author’s note: this is part 3, come back to read part 4! taglist

masterlist

osamu miya kuroo testurou oikawa tooru

you’re laying on the sofa late into the evening, drowning in your own thoughts, until the silence in the room is broken by the sound of jingling keys and the front door opening. then follows the sound of shuffling, a large gym bag falling to the floor and shoes being moved around in the genkan. kageyama is back from training.

“i’m home!” he calls out to you from down the hall, the pitter-patter of his feet growing louder as he gets closer to the living room.

“welcome home,” you call back to him, but your voice comes off much weaker than you had intended. to say the least, today had left you absolutely exhausted. you were completely drained, no ounce of energy left in you. the list of things that went completely wrong today stretched out for eternity, and you felt worse every second you spent dwelling on it. it wasn’t something you could help, though. you just couldn’t get yourself to think about anything else, the complete silence in the empty house making it hard for you to take your mind to a happier place.

kageyama walks into the living room, sitting himself down next to you with a quiet and weary sigh. you notice the look in his eyes as he glances at you, paired with the subtle furrow of his brow and pout of his lips. he definitely noticed something is wrong with you. he always does. he describes it as something like a sixth sense, and despite being emotionally constipated a lot of the time, he does know exactly how to read you like an open book.

he decides not to comment on it though, reaching over to the coffee table and grabbing the tv remote. you watch as he swipes through a dozen channels until landing on something he likes. some random volleyball match, to no surprise.

you two sit in silence, one that’s relatively comfortable except for a small amount of lingering tension. he knows well the general extent of what’s going on in your head. you can tell by the subtle glances he gives you every now and then to assess your facial expression. you can imagine how you look right now. you feel the small frown dawning your features, complimenting your droopy and tired eyes that are struggling to stay open.

a while goes by where you blankly stare at the volleyball match happening on the screen. you have no idea what’s going on, of course, because the inner turmoil in your mind is what has been occupying your thoughts. kageyama has been slowly inching closer to you, to the point where his shoulder and his knee are now brushing against yours in a featherlight touch.

the match has apparently grown uneventful, because he’s lost interest and shuts the tv off. he turns to you, voice low and soft from the tiring day he’s probably also had, “do you want to tell me what’s wrong now?”

busted. of course. “nothing’s really wrong, it’s just, i had a bad day,” you reply with a strained voice that lacks the assertiveness you were hoping it would have.

his brows knit even tighter together at your response, a flicker of concern crossing his face, “a bad day? you look exhausted. what happened?”

“well, nothing in particular really happened. just had a really tiring day, y’know? it kind of felt like everything was falling apart.”

he gives you a small, understanding nod, “yeah, i know. come here.” he wraps his arms around your shoulders, pulling you against his chest and resting his chin on your head, “do you want to talk about it?” he’s not great at using his words, but he’ll never fail to offer to listen to you. no matter what the topic is, he always sits through and listens intently to your rambles, good or bad.

you think about his question for a moment, before silently shaking your head, your cheek brushing against the soft fabric of his shirt. you decide it would probably be better for you to just stop worrying about it. everybody had bad days, and a small setback like this wasn’t worth your energy dwelling on.

kageyama feels your movement against his, and he hums in response, tightening his grip around you. he basks in the subtle scent of your shampoo, peppering light and reassuring kisses on the top of your head. his hand runs up and down your back in a soothing motion, allowing the two of you to sit in silence for a while. you relax against him, calming down your mind in his warm embrace. the way he says nothing tells you everything. his firm hold on you is grounding and reminds you that he’s here, even when neither of you have anything to say. the reassurance just his presence provides to you makes you feel safe, like you’re right where you belong.

after a long moment, he breaks the silence to speak, his voice a low murmur, “you okay?”

“yeah, i’m okay. how was practice today? i didn’t ask how your day was,” you say, pulling away just enough to look him in the eye.

he tucks away a few strands of hair behind your ear that went loose, replying softly, “it was okay. long as always. sorry i kept you waiting this late into the evening.”

you shake your head firmly, “it’s fine, it’s not like it’s your fault anyways. want me to start on dinner?”

he presses a short and sweet kiss to your lips before resting his forehead on yours, his breath tickling your skin as he speaks, “don’t worry about that. you should rest. how about i order all your favorites?”

a smile tugs on your lips, and he reciprocates with that cheesy one of his own that always makes you laugh, “okay, deal.”

taglist: @scoupsworld @mires765

© evamame 2025. all rights reserved. please do not repost, modify, steal, plagiarize, or translate my work.

[bleue-flora]

Well would you look at that?… Dream bringing up the prison as a means to deal with someone misbehaving… hmm

Like I’d search for the essays where I talked about this, but I can’t be bothered, consider this some proof though. :)

Oh wait nvm lol that’s why I made indexes, here:

🔹 Multiple reasons to commission a prison? ⬩ ⬩ ⬩

[sakuraluck]

this moment will never fail to make me feral bc he gave up!!! till, the boy who rebels even when all it does is get him hurt, the one who burns as brightly as the stars in the sky, the flame that lasted for almost two decades finally gave up!!! he snuffed out!! he closed him eyes and stopped fighting!! do you understand how devastating that is??

especially to ivan who idolizes and adores him for it?? who has only ever known till for his never-ending love and will that never falters? to see the man he loves broken down like this—a hurt that extends far beyond that of the physical body but to his soul— must’ve been terrible

and you can see it

ivan’s crumpling too. his mental state is on the verge of snapping too. his shoulders are dropped and his eyes are bloodshot.

till’s given up and ivan can see it and as his hands tighten around the other’s neck, a voice whispers what if you don’t let go?

because that’s what till wants right? he isn’t going to win against luka like this. he wants to die and no matter what ivan does, it’s not going to change that. so why not kill him?

that way they can die together.

wouldn’t that be wonderful?

ivan has always had a great potential for darkness and he holds it back most of the time, rarely ever letting it come to the surface. it wouldn’t be far off to assume this was one of those moments, where emotions are high and last minute regrets and wishes are surging forth—it isn’t far off to think there was a small part of him that was seriously contemplating throwing away his decision to sacrifice himself alone.

but then he gets shot in the chest, through the lungs, and the pain snaps him out of it. because this is it. this is the end. and he remembers why he’s doing this.

he remembers his desire to save till despite how foolish as it may be, how hypocritical it may be. the light reappears in his eyes and it’s ivan in love again. it’s ivan swelling with pure love, looking at till for last time.

it’s ivan doing the one thing he’s never been able to do:

it’s ivan letting go

[mechahero]

//Pondering a scenario where Lambda meets someone and thinks to himself "I could probably eat them".

[kaeyapilled]

O wise Kaeyapilled, tell us more about this "fem kaeya butch realness"

*sitting on a high throne, looking very wise and vaguely bored* i simply think.... we should make fem kaeya more butch.

[kitchensinksurrealism]

do you ever think of a number and realise you've never thought about that number in your entire life and you just know this is the first time

[honey-tongued-devil]

[Arcane preference]reacting to their s/o calling them husband/wife for the first time

I’ve finished the first chapter of the long fic about Universe 7 (Anytime it rains). As soon as my second beta reader gives me the okay, I’ll post it. While I wait, I’ve written the first headcanon (out of three I’m definitely planning to write and post in the next few days) and picked up the drawing of Steb I’d left unfinished. I’m slow, as usual, but English isn’t my first language, and I’m juggling a lot of things at once. Enjoy!

socials: | INPRNT | | Tip Jar | | X | | BlueSky | | Ao3 | poster: | Jayce poster | | Silco poster | |Silco +self insert poster 1| | Steb poster | if you want to read the fluff longfic with vander and his happy family + Silco x reader you can find it here! ↠ Masterlist

Jayce:

-This man is planning to put a ring on your finger as soon as possible, okay? -Between the academy, public appearances, and both theoretical and practical studies, there isn’t a single moment when he’s really in the right mindset to bring up the topic -The worst part is that, deep down, he’s terrified of putting pressure on you -That’s why, the first time he hears you refer to him as “my husband” during a gala with noble families, he almost chokes -He has to gather all his strength not to grab the interlocutor by the shoulders and ask if they also heard you say that word -He’ll try to keep his composure, maybe responding to your remark with, “Yes, exactly. Her husband really did say/do/design that.”

Viktor:

-It’s not a thought he’s ever really entertained; it never crossed his mind -Part of it is that science is his priority, and part of it is that marriage doesn’t seem like something meant for people like him, -The first time you call him “your husband”, that thought suddenly becomes real in his head, and he can’t help but lean against a wall and wait for the other person to leave -“So, I’m your husband now, huh? Mmm… I don’t mind, a bit pretentious, though…” he jokes, making you roll your eyes -Now, more than ever, he has no idea what to do. He’ll give you a bronze ring from a machine he’s building -“Until I can get one worthy of you.”

Ekko:

-Yes -That’s it -The end -Okay, seriously. The idea of being certain that something will last forever is probably his greatest wish -The first time you call him your husband, he doesn’t see it coming -“Wait, you’re married?” -“I was talking about you, Ekko.” -The moment you say it, he points to his chest, you see his lip tremble slightly, and his eyes grow shinier -He won’t stop talking about it for a week, and at least once a day, he’ll ask if you still want to marry him, if you’re sure, if you love him -No rings before S2; the promise is made by drawing something for each other on your masks and clothes -After S2, he still can’t afford a ring, but now that life is more stable, he can start thinking about a more traditional gift, like a piece of jewelry

Vander:

-This man is ravenous for any family role you might offer him—fiancé, father, husband. Anything goes -The first time you call him “husband”, he plays it cool but will seize the first opportunity to return the favor by telling a customer you’re married -As soon as he can, he’ll squeeze your hand, even under the counter -The idea of being married and having a complete family is everything he’s ever wanted -He won’t stop calling you “my beautiful wife/husband” from that moment on.

-You said it first; you can’t take it back. Now you have to get married

Silco (old man):

-This man’s only sin is loving too much, but I’ll save that reflection for another post -Having no ties other than his illegitimate daughter doesn’t make him someone who’s particularly keen on formalities -The first time you call him “your husband” is in front of Sevika, and he slowly turns to look at you, while she slowly turns to look at him -“Did I... miss something?” Sevika asks, but he doesn’t reply, still perplexed, before glancing at her and saying, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” -He’s relieved but doesn’t show it. He can’t afford to just yet -As soon as he confirms you were serious, your name will be flamboyantly forgotten—he’ll constantly refer to you as “my wife/husband”

Silco (young):

-The man who survives on love -The first time you call him your husband is in front of Vander, and while Vander bursts out laughing, Silco chokes on his drink -“Are you serious?” He’s so happy that his pale iris are completely swallowed by his dilated pupils -He grabs a pen and draws a ring around your finger -To his credit, he works in a mine, so it’s hard to do better than that, but it becomes the goal that keeps him going -Completely focused on family, the future, and anything that sees the two of you together and happy

Steb:

-The first time you call him your husband is at a dinner among enforcer families, and being mute doesn’t stop him from stealing the spotlight -He whips around, blinking slowly with only his third eyelid in a gesture of confusion -When he’s 100% sure he understood what you said, his eyes widen, the small membranes under his eyes flutter madly, and even the barely visible gills near his jaw gasp for a moment -Someone says, “I didn’t know you were married,” and he immediately nods enthusiastically, not giving you time to take it back -Within 48 hours, he’ll have the ring ready

Jinx:

-The first time you call her “your wife”, she freezes -“What did you just call me?” -She’s used to being a little sister, a big sister, a daughter—she’d never thought she could be a wife. Family ties aren’t chosen, but the idea that someone would want her in their life so much they’d marry her feels incredible -“You want to marry me? Really? Why?” -She bursts into tears, and it’ll take at least 24 hours of cuddling in bed to calm her down -After that, she’ll run to her father to announce that she’s now a married woman

Vi:

-She might not be Silco and/or Vander’s blood daughter, but she’s inherited their deep desire for family -From her family’s tragic fate to Vander’s, she’s always seen family as the ultimate aspiration -When you call her “your wife” for the first time, she doesn’t notice right away, but a full minute later, she whirls around to look at you, as if to ask for confirmation -“Say it again.” -“...You need to buy bread?” -“No, all of it.” -“My wife needs to go buy bread.” -“Again.”

-"My... wife?"

-"Again"

Caitlyn:

-Has she thought about it? Yes -Was she planning to act on it? Not exactly -Caitlyn struggles with emotions and feelings, which is why she hesitates and takes her time -But when you first call her “your wife”, her brain completely shuts off—she just stares at you, unable to hear a single word being said -If you or someone else asks her a question, she’ll snap out of it and respond, -“My wife/husband said everything.” Even if it makes no sense as an answer, making you laugh and leaving the other person baffled

Mel:

-Not a single flicker of surprise—the first time you call her “your wife”, she remains completely composed -“So, I’m your wife?” she asks as soon as you’re in private, approaching you like a feline. You can almost hear the purr in her voice -She’s amused but also intrigued by whatever game you’re playing -The idea of marriage is complicated for her—on one hand, it feels like it would limit her freedom to act, while on the other, unresolved family issues seem to devour her at the mere thought of starting a new cycle -She’ll tell you to go ahead, to get married, but she’ll also ask for time -In the meantime, though, she’ll start using the term “husband/wife” with you—she likes the way it rolls off her tongue

Sevika:

-Between the work she does, the environment she lives in, and all the interesting circumstances of her life, marriage has never been on her radar -Not to mention that in Zaun, it’s not exactly a common practice—people just move in together and build families when they can, without much fuss over formalities or bureaucracy -The first time it happens, she’s playing cards with the other goons, and you casually ask if “your wife is winning” -Her first reaction isn’t even hers—it’s the others’. Dustin, the blond goon with the lazy eye, almost starts crying, embarrassing her -Don’t worry, she’ll make you pay for it at home -She won’t ask to formalize anything, but in true Zaunite fashion, she’ll consider you married, plain and simple

[partiallysame]

Soap hits on Ghost's girl part 2

Part 2 to THIS

Word count: 550

The next time Soap sees you is when you come to the base to drop something off for Simon. Soap saw the text pop up on Ghost’s phone while he was in the shower post training. You were waiting for him at the main entrance. You were waiting all alone and Ghost was busy, Soap simply could not leave you waiting for another second, plus he needed to apologize for the last time you met. (Did Soap steal Ghost’s phone so when he got out of the shower he wouldn't know his pretty girlfriend was waiting for him? maybe).

You watched the Scotsman jog towards you, apologies falling from his mouth the second he was within earshot. “M’sorry. Didn’t mean any disrespect. You were jus sittin there all alone. Woulda thought Riley was gonna bring you with em’.” You said his name a few times trying to get him to stop but he was so caught up in trying to “make it right” that he didn’t hear you until you used his last name. 

“MacTavish” the command of your voice almost had him standing at attention. The call of his name had him sucking in his lips, rightfully shutting him up. You reached out to tap his arm, as if to say ‘relax’.

“S’not a big deal Johnny.” you laughed a little, “It was fun playing with you. Just hope Si didn’t give you too much shit about it.” (He did. Soap has been dodging literal punches for weeks now). Your phrasing made Soap smile. 

“You can play wit me anytime you’d like lass.” if he had long hair he’d be twirling it in his fingers right now.

“I’ll keep that in mind MacTavish.” The way you were looking up at him reminded him of why approached you in the bar the first time. Just looking at you and he was smitten. 

The sound of big heavy footsteps made Soap flinch. The second Ghost appeared, Soap bolted behind you. Ghost wouldn’t beat the shit out of him in front of you right? 

“You forgot this hun.” You handed a bag of stuff to Simon who was trying to step around you to get to Soap who was moving in the opposite direction of Ghost. Soap trying his hardest not to grab you to better use you as a shield. You stood still watching the two soldiers behave like children running around you. Ghost finally got his hands on Soap who called out your name, a last ditch effort at protection. 

“Let him go Si.”  His grip might’ve loosened but there was no way he was going to let go. 

“Don’t go taking his side lovie.” He may or may not have a knife behind his back ready to use right now. 

“He’s harmless Riley” You stated, arms crossed but definitely enjoying whatever this situation was.

“Ya. Riley. M’harmless” The grin could be heard in Soap’s voice as Ghost let go of him. 

“Give him back his phone John.” Ghost’s head snapped to Soap who was wide eyed. How’d you know he stole it? When you gave Simon a small peck signaling you were leaving, Soap began to run knowing once you were gone he was no longer safe from Simon Ghost Riley.

[lxnarphase]

━━ ❝ sweet, sticky, thick, and pretty ❞

☾₊‧⁺...synopsis : toji wants to give you another baby

☾₊‧⁺...cw : toji fushiguro x fem!reader, smut, penetrative sex, pre-established relationship, overstimulation, unprotected sex, breeding kink, dirty talk, rough sex, begging, smug and cocky reader, feral toji

☾₊‧⁺...a/n : this is a post from my old blog but i revamped it and i really wanted to share this again because i was really proud of it. and yes, it's another breeding kink + pregnant kink. consider it a part two, since it takes place after megumi is born

toji never thought he’d get off on the idea of having another kid with you.

yet here he is, dick hard in his sweatpants as he thinks about you carrying his baby again...how you'd start to fill out all over again, that cute chubbiness coming back, how he'd have an excuse to dote on you whenever you complained about the simplest of things.

it starts off with how he sees you coo over megumi, calling him your sweet baby. you're such a good mother, too, it's clear you'd likely be the favorite parent to that little brat.

but god, does he find it attractive just seeing you be a mom to the kid that he gave you.

the day you ask megumi what he wants for his upcoming 4th birthday at dinner, neither one of you is prepared for the words that come out of your son's mouth.

“i want a baby sister,” he states bluntly as he chews on the steamed carrots, looking at you and toji. it was clear from how confident the little guy is that he's put a lot of thought into this.

“but, i don’t want her to look like daddy. he’s ugly, i want her to look like mommy.”

little brat. you straight up choke, trying to stop the laugh-coughs as toji looks at his son, offended. this really is his son, because who else but you and the kid he made with you could have the nerve to say shit like that to him?

“twerp, you look just like me, you realize that, right?”

megumi huffs, looking at his dad in the cutest little glare. “that’s 'cause i'm a boy, though," he explains as if it's obvious, his precious little cheeks puffed up as he stuffs more of his food in his mouth.

"my sister has to be like mommy. you’d be an ugly girl, daddy.” toji just rolls his eyes, pinching the cheeks of the mini him, ignoring his protests. as the two bicker, you think. would it...really be that bad to have another baby? you always wanted a girl, after all, and toji took such good care of you and megumi...it couldn't be that bad. “well, uhm,” you begin, catching the attention of toji, an unfamiliar smile on your face.

there's a mischievous look on your face right now, his eyes narrowing as he waits for your response. whatever you're about to say is either going to haunt him for the next few days or make him roll his eyes at you.

“i'm sure daddy and i can work something out for you, 'gumi, but let’s think of some other things, too, m'kay?” 

ah.

you went the haunting route.

ignoring the little cheer his son let out, toji can't hide the disbelieving look that crosses his face when he processes what you just said.

'daddy'?

you've said the word, sure, usually when you talk to megumi about him. but something was different about how you said it, the way you looked at him when you said it, the barely visible flutter of your eyes...a silent promise there'd definitely be a deeper conversation about it later.

the very day megumi has a sleepover with the neighbor's kid, yuuji, toji is mentally cheering. he loves his son with all his heart, he truly does, but having a toddler in bed meant limited contact with his pretty wife.

it's only been 3 days since that little comment you made and it's been on toji's mind constantly. every time he tried to bring it up with you, megumi would interrupt and toji was not being the reason his son ended up traumatized because he overheard mommy and daddy talking about making babies in the kitchen.

"bye, gumi! make sure you behave for mr. nanami, okay? have fun with yuuji," you coo as you press two kisses to your son's cheeks, snapping toji back to the present.

"see ya, kid, be good," toji says, giving a nod of acknowledgement to nanami. megumi barely says goodbye before he runs after yuuji to the car, his run a bit awkward because of his overnight backpack.

waving goodbye to nanami, you shut the door, turning to look at toji with that smile as you.

"hi, toj."

you think you're so cute, don't you?

"hey, mama."

toji can't even lie, you are. wearing his t-shirt and sweatpants? yeah, your the cutest thing he's ever laid eyes one. his hands rest on your hips, pulling you flush to his chest. fuck, you weren't even doing anything but he could already feel himself getting hard just from looking at you.

he's never been so whipped in his life.

"d'you wanna talk," you murmur lowly, your finger running over the thin silver chain on his neck. "we could go to the bedroom...and talk about the baby thing."

toji's eyes darken at the suggestion, knowing exactly what would happen the moment you both go into the bedroom. "yeah. think it's 'bout time we talked about it," he hums as he grips your wrist, tugging you to your room.

as soon you both step foot into the bedroom, toji hungrily presses your lips against his, letting out a deep groan. "had me thinkin' about knockin' you up again all fuckin' week, mama," toji sighs against your lips, tongue running over your lower lip.

"wanted to stuff you full so fucking bad."

feeling you sigh so prettily into the kiss, his doesn't hesitate to shove his tongue in your mouth, hands busying themselves as they push your (his) sweats down off your hips before guiding you back to the bed.

you knew he would get excited over your comment, but you didn't think it would be to the point where he was rutting into you as he practically devoured you, feeling your back hit the bed.

“you want to give our 'gumi a sister? wanna be a mommy again," he questions, breaking the kiss to press his forehead against yours. one of his hands slithers up under the oversized t-shirt to cup one of your tits and roughly knead it, his thumb just barely grazing over your nipple.

"wanna have another kid with big, bad toji? tsk, poor cunt missed gettin' stuffed full of cum?" 

you just hum a little breathless. your hand comes up to cup his cheek, looking from his lips back up to his eyes. he's so handsome when he's over you like this, his chain dangling right in your face.

“maaaaybe. megumi just made me think about it, 's all. you've been a good dad t' him, how could i not want to give you another one,” you coo, guiding him closer so you can press a kiss against the scar on his lip. 

“besides…”

toji grunts when he feels your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him flush against you so you can feel the thick, heaviness of his arousal through his sweatpants.

“don’t you want me to make you a daddy again, toji? c'mon, knock me up, big guy.”

after those words leave your pretty little mouth, toji is on you as he realizes that you're 100% going to give him the worse breeding kink ever.

"'m gonna fuckin' ruin you," he growls into your ear. you aren't given a second to protest before he's ripped your panties off, complaints falling on deaf ears. the tips of his fingers gently run over your puffy pussy lips, your slick wetness coating his fingers.

"fuck, mama, you're soaked already." his eyes are focused on your face as you squirm and whimper when he swirls little circles into your clit, an evil smirk on his face. "can't wait to fill you up 'til you're dripping with my cum, doll."

you can't stop your hips from trying to grind into his hand, eyes rolling back when he teased your entrance. "toji, c'mon, baby, i need you s'bad."

"baby, you know you can't take me without prep," he coos at you. he can feel how hot and slick you are, finally, finally slipping two of his fingers inside your cunt. and oh, the way you arch your back a little bit with a pleading whine of his name is so, so pretty, you're so fucking cute.

"mmn, maybe y'don't need prep, you just sucked my fingers right in," he says huskily before pressing a little kiss to the corner of your mouth. "you wanna try, mama? wanna see if you can fit my cock in you? really gonna feel that stretch, though, babe," toji warns, knowing you can't give a sensible answer when he starts pumping his fingers in and out.

when it seems like your about to answer him, the only thing that escapes your mouth is a shaky moan, his thick fingers curling to hit just the right spot inside of you that has you gushing. unable to form words, you tug on his shirt and nod frantically, just wanting to feel toji stuffing you full.

"yeah? you wanna try?" toiji pulls his fingers out of you, chuckling when you whine at the sudden feeling of emptiness. he pops his fingers in his mouth, cock throbbing at the addictive taste of your cunt on his tongue. "c'mon, we're both wearing too much, let's get you outta that shirt, ma."

you waste no time throwing the shirt off, not even giving him the chance to undress you. but once your shirt is off, you're practically ripping off his stupid black t-shirt that made his pecs look fucking delicious and those damn sweatpants and boxers that hid your prize.

as you fuss over his boxers, toji takes a moment to look at you spread out on the bed before him. you still had a bit of chub on you, tummy nice and soft and cute, just how he likes it. if he knew where his phone was, he'd take a picture of you right now; frustrated, horny, naked, and pretty. all for him.

"tojiiii, stop staring and kick off your stupid boxers, you're getting on my nerves!"

you can't even look him in the eye as you say that because you're too busy staring right at his cock, a thick bead of precum formed at the tip. the lick of your lips told him everything he needed to know, but he wasn't fucking your mouth, not tonight at least.

"what? i can't look at my own wife," he asks with a raised eyebrow, biting back a laugh when you swat at his hand that pinches one your puffy nipple. "tch, so rude, doll."

before you can snap back at him, he brushes the swollen head of his cock against your slick folds, smearing your wet over the tip. that shuts you up quickly and toji has to hold back another laugh. always so fussy until he finally gives you what you want. he's spoiled you rotten.

"toji," comes a soft whine, so soft he nearly misses it. your eyes are focused between your legs, lower lips between your teeth as he teases you with his cockhead. you huff, pushing your hand against his chest to give you enough space to shift positions, knowing exactly what would get him to stop teasing you.

once you roll over, you shift so that you're face down, ass up, you hand slipping between your thighs to spread your sticky pussy open, slick dripping down your fingers. "tojiiii, please? please, baby, stop teasing an' put a baby in me...please, hubby, give your wife what she wants."

any other whines or begs are interrupted when his hand comes down hard on your ass. he was going to give you what you wanted, what you both wanted. he was going to fuck you, fill you up with all his cum and whatever leaked out? he’d make sure to push it back in, whether with his fingers, mouth, or tip of his dick. 

when he finally pushes into you, he just lets out the most wrecked groan you’ve heard from him yet, each inch sinking into you stretching those tight walls just a bit more.

"holy shit...fuuck me, baby, too fucking tight, you're strangling my cock," he hisses, fingers digging into the fat of your hips as he gave you inch after inch.

god, just the thought of fucking you not just to feel good, but to fill you up, get you to take his seed deep inside to give him another kid? it's fucking with his head, his wife was gonna be the death of him.

both of you moan once he's all the way inside. you feel so full, his cock is too fucking big it doesn't make any sense and you genuinely think you should've let him fully prep you...but shifting your hips just a little bit has his tip pressing against something sinful. you whine and reach back to grab at one of his hands on your waist, turning to shoot him a mean glare as you demand, “stop stalling n’ knock me up, toji." 

who is he to deny what his wife asks?

using a hand to steady himself on the headboard, his hips begin to move slowly, pulling out just an inch and pushing forward again. "so tight 'n' warm..." each thrust hits deeper and more powerful than the last as toji begins to pick up speed, the thickness of his cock hitting every deep part of you.

it's almost too much, but you don't want him to stop, especially not when toji started running his mouth.

“shit, look at you, baby…takin’ it like a champ.”

now you really wish you stayed on your back, then at least you could've slapped a hand over his mouth to shut him up. you drop your head down against the mattress with a moan, starting to move your hips to match his thrusts, the room filling with the sound of skin slapping on skin.

“fuuck, c'mon, throw that ass back on me, thaaaat’s it, good girl.” 

he starts pounding into you harder when he feels you tightening up on him. the sweet moans and adorable words of “gimme more,” “baby, please,” or “s’ too good, toj,’” only pushing him to get even deeper, to get you to cum so he could stuff you full.

he coos when he sees you starting to scramble up further on the bed, away from his relentless fucking. he knows that he found that sweet spot that would have you creaming in minutes.

"tsk, you just never fuckin' learn, huh? 's always gonna be too much for you, isn't it," he huffs as his hand finds its way into your hair, tugging your head back to keep you from moving more. “hey. hey, nonono, don’t run away from it, lemme have it," he coos at you, following you up the mattress.

you never change, always swearing up and down that you wouldn't run from his cock, that you'd be able to take him. you wanted this, you wanted your precious husband to fuck another baby into you, t'give 'gumi a little sister, s’ i’m gonna give it to you.”

toji may sound like he’s still put together, but he’s just thankful you can’t see his face since yours is pressed into the pillows at the top of the bed.

you can’t see how he’s barely holding himself together, trying his hardest not to let himself go too much. the last thing he needs is to cum before you, knowing that while you wouldn’t mind, he’d be annoyed for breaking his streak.

he’s brought back into the present when you manage to turn your head a little, able to look him in the eye, and god, does he love what he sees.

your mouth is open as you moan for him, eyes lidded and focused on only him. he sees the little tears gathered in them, not quite spilling over but the fact that they’re there tells him he’s the one making you feel that good. 

“tuh-toji, ’m gonna cum, gonna cum—!”

"yeah?" hearing you moan so sweetly for him only makes toji smirk, fingers digging into your hips as he helps you meet each thrust. “gonna make a mess f'me already? poor little cunt can't handle gettin' fucked so good? mmn, shit, 's okay, baby. let go for me, mama, cum on daddy’s cock.” 

"t-tojiiiii," you shakily moan, nearly ripping the sheets as you cum suddenly. it was his voice, the way he tried to sound put together but you could hear how desperate he was to feel your pussy clamp down on him and get his cock nice and messy.

toji's deep, guttural moans mix with your cries when he unexpected is pushed over the edge, the way you desperately grinded back against him causing him to swear under his breath as he lost his pace, groaning your name as he emptied into you. it felt so hot, the pulsating warmth of his tip nudging against your cervix paired with his thick cum filling you up dizzying the both of you. 

you expect some kind of snarky comment from toji, trying to catch your breath so you could reply when he said it. but nothing comes (you have to stop yourself from laughing at the pun). you turn to look back, sighing when toji pulls out of you. usually he stayed inside, leaning down to tease you for cumming so fast...but he didn't.

something was wrong and for some reason, you felt like your pussy was in danger.

“toj…?”

he didn’t answer. he probably didn’t even hear you, not with the way he was looking so intensely at the mess between your thighs. the mess he made. toji doesn’t know what comes over him, his hands practically moving on their own as he moves you over onto your back, then moving his hands down to your sensitive hole and spreading. 

the scene in front of him just breaks him. you let out a soft whine, hips gently rolling into his hands. his eyes stay stuck between your legs—sharp and focused—as they watch the thick globs of his hot cum drip out of your hole and down onto the bed sheets.

the groan that leaves him is sinful, and once you make eye contact with him, you realize how fucked you are. he’s hard again, almost making you believe he didn’t cum if it weren’t for the creamy sheen of his cum on his throbbing dick and the hotness of his dripping out of you. before you know it, toji’s climbing over you, making sure your legs get pushed over to his shoulders as he pushes you into a mating press.

yeah.

you're fucked.

you keep making eye contact, and now that he’s so close to you, you see how crazed he looks. his eyes, completely black due to his blown pupils, have an unhinged look in them, and the half smirk on his face only makes you worry about your ability to walk the next day.

“t-toji, if you need a break to calm down, then-oh!” 

he shuts you up by pushing himself inside you, loving how your eyes cross so prettily. he has you now, you can't run away from the overstimulating feeling of him fucking you in this position. and when you feel his hands come up and lock together on your head to really keep you in place, you feel yourself gush all over his cock at the simple display of how strong he was compared to you.

you're so fucked.

all you can do is moan and cry out his name, hands grabbing whatever part of him they could reach. but he doesn't let you break eye contact, keeping you close to his face so he could see every little expression. and fuck, does he like what he sees.

“t-tojiii, t’ deep, t’ deep!”

“wan’ me t’ stop? t’ stop fuckin’ this messy hole?”

“fuck, y-you stop, and I’ll c-choke the shit out of yo-ouh!”

“that’s it, take it, take daddy’s cock, mama, lemme breed you.”

everything about this position is driving both of you crazy.

the closeness has you reeling, the way toji just cannot bring himself to break eye contact, needing to see what he was doing to you.

his thick cock is hitting deep, almost too deep, with the way each thrust of his hips causes the tip to press into the sweet spot inside you every. single. time. 

he has you for the whole day and the whole night, he's going to make sure you're stuffed entirely and doesn't plan on stopping until either you tell him you need a break or until he can't cum anymore. and even then, he doesn't think anything will be able to get him out of your cunt.

but with the way he just moaned into your mouth, thick spurts of more cum coating your insides…and the way he didn’t get soft, instead pressing you even deeper into the mattress as he began to pound into you with a groan of how much he loved your pussy…

you were sure it would be a while until he was done with you.

all rights reserved © lxnarphase | do not repost, copy, translate, or alter my work

[carebearbussy]

ᥫ᭡ thinking about heian era! sukuna having a heavy breeding kink, seemingly out of nowhere.

you bring up a mere idea at dinner, the conversation quickly turning normal, to you bringing up an idea he had never given a second thought to.

"do you ever want kids with me, 'kuna?"

you would ask him, innocently enough, a sickeningly sweet tone hidden beneath your words. but you would already know the answer to this question. he would look up at you, then back down at his food, annoyance pondering his mind. eating a slab of salmon sashimi, he took a bite, chewing slow enough to hint at his potential answer. placing down his chopsticks, he would look back up at you, scoffing to himself at your foolish inquiry.

"those small, annoying humans that require too much attention for their own good? no thank you, i have better things to attend to."

he says, focusing on the meal before him. but his thoughts soon get the best of him. and now that he thinks about it, he will need an heir eventually. and not only that, but what would you be like? as a mother specifically. you would require more attention than most of the time. which was something he secretly enjoyed indulging in, despite his negative reasoning towards infants. how would you look?

you would be more swollen than usual, you stomach would grow larger by day, your breasts will most definitely become more full by the day. the bigger picture, which was you, enticed him in a way. something about seeing you round with his child really had his head going.

and so thats how you ended up here, you knees tightly locked against your stomach, as sukuna absolutely plows into your already stuffed cunt.

this was the seventh time? eighth time? at this point, you couldn't keep track. but he had came wayyyy too many times more than an average man should be able to. it was excruciating, really, the whimpers leaving your mouth, his hands bringing your knees closer to your chest with every move of his hips.

his seed was leaking out of you, glop by glop, dripping down your bottom even more, as he kept going harder and rougher. splashes of your juices paired with his cum stained the bed, the squelching of your pussy becoming deafening with every smack of his heavy balls against the rim of your ass. and the tight grip he had on your locks wasn't helping his case.

"hah, you're gonna give your king his offspring? yeah? r' you gonna be a good little mother f'me? make me an heir?"

he asks, your head barely able to focus on anything other than trying to stay sane. you felt sooo full, but this apparently wasn't enough for sukuna, or his heavy urges to breed your sloppy cunt. you nod eagerly, not wanting him to go any harder than he already has. but with the way he kept abusing your womb, it seemed like you were enjoying it, as sukuna relishes in your facial expression, your eyes rolling back, your mouth hung open wide enough to stuff two of his free fingers in.

"you'd be such a good mother, so obedient too. you wanted to rile me up, didn't you? i'll give you what you want, woman."

moaning into his fingers, you swirl your tongue around his digits, making him hum contently. you try to focus your vision onto his eyes, but the way he pushed his chest further into yours, had you practically cross eyed. hitting a new angle, you felt yourself completely let go, officially adding onto your list of orgasms you had previously had that night.

he released his fingers from your mouth, a coat of your saliva stringing upon release. he ceases to pull out of you, instead letting himself nuzzle nicely into your warmth, releasing yet again inside of you, earning a whine of complaint on your behalf. he playfully slaps your cheek with his wet hand, trailing it down to your pussy, playing in the ring of his semen around his cock. you squirm slightly, as you watch him then bring his cum coated fingers up to your mouth, pushing them back inside your mouth, making you taste his seed, some of his cum pooling around your lips.

"does that taste good? i bet it does, since you seem to love my seed so much. i cant wait to see you so full, besides from right now, of course."

[tojisun]

Okay, now I need something about bf!logan and his girl making a porno (bonus points if wade finds out after the show they put on for him and that man is willing to RISK IT ALL to see that sex tape😩🤣)

cw: porn link; f!reader; smut; consensual filming during sex; slight sexting at the end // divider by @/plutism!

this is definitely the porno they were making <3

logan has you on your knees, your ass dimpling with every one of his greedy caresses, his heavy hand kneading your flesh. you’re whining to be creampied—to be bred—and logan indulges you with a quiet chuckle because you’re so adorable like this, all needy and demanding, babbling nothing but nonsense because he’s fucked you to the point of incoherence.

you jut out your chin at his croon. he tells you to do it yourself if you really want his cum; says that you’ve got to show him how much you need it.

“an’ here i thought i was bein’ a gentleman,” logan says, sighing in that what-can-you-do? tone like he hadn’t been fucking you so hard, you were sure that the condom was on the brink of ripping.

you grumble, rolling your eyes even mid-tears, before reaching back to where he’s got his cock rutting along the cleft of your ass. you give it a stroke, giggling breathily to yourself at its sheer girth and weight, before sliding your hand down to the pinched tip and tugging.

logan moans, and it rumbles deep, sending tingles to rise from the tips of your toes to the base of your neck. he sounds just a little too excited, and you wonder how you must look as you reach for the rubber, tugging it off the expanse of his cock. do you look desperate, the camera capturing the way you’re shivering like you’re on cum-withdrawals? or do you look like the brat that you are, whining how sex is not enough until logan’s pumping you full of his sperm?

god, the thought that this moment is being immortalized makes you clench at nothing, your hole puckering as it waits to be filled.

the condom comes off with a pop, the rubber snapping off and into itself. it sounds so lewd and dirty, like the two of you are really starring in a corny porno, and it fills your cheeks with warmth as your need wanes in the face of your shyness.

you fling the condom to the side, before burrowing your face on the pillows, as though that alone can hide the palpable hunger rippling from you. logan laughs at your reaction like he’s not softly humping his cock between your thighs, rutting it along the wet mess he’s made out of your cunt.

“y’ready, bub?” logan asks, still giddy with his laugh. you grumble a reply, before jutting your head in a stilted nod.

he taps his weeping cock along your folds, testing, and you shuffle in your impatience. you feel the itch exploding, the need to be stuffed bloating, but logan continues to tease and god, pleasepleaseplease—

“i’ve got you, darl,” he grunts, then he’s pushing in, steady and filling, and, and—

the moan that’s ripped from your throat sounds foreign, like you’re a damn wounded animal. you don’t even get to adjust to his width—pussy lips going taut at his thickness—before logan’s drawing his cock out until all that’s left is the head. there’s a bated breath that you two share, leaving you suspended in anticipation, then he’s bullying it back in.

you flop on the bed, all useless now like you’ve got your strings cut loose. logan doesn’t seem to mind, not with the consistent ringing slaps of his pelvis meeting your ass echoing in your quaint room. god, your brain’s being scrambled right now, you’re sure, because you can’t even think of anything but logan—

loganloganlogan.

you’re already cross-eyed by the time he sprays his first load inside you.

.

wade gets a five second clip from logan’s number. the thumbnail is just a blur of colours and wade’s interest is piqued because logan rarely reaches out to him—a video is just unthinkable.

he was expecting many things—that the video is the one of deadpool being broadcasted on national television with the words “hero or criminal?” after he’s accidentally set the robber’s van on fire, or that the video is an accidental recording of logan’s butt because that wolverine suit was tight and wade can’t even think where logan must keep his phone with him.

but this—

wade wasn’t expecting this.

it was a video of you—wade’s not even embarrassed to admit that he’s memorized the way you look from all angles; what? one doesn’t get a show of wolverine fucking his girl without gaining a new hyperfixation—reaching for logan’s monster cock. wade breathes in sharply as he watches you reach for the condom before tugging it off with a filthy, filthy pop. the video cuts into a next scene of logan relentlessly fucking you hard; the audio is a mess of squeaks and slaps, but also the wet squelches of logan’s cock fucking in-and-out of your gaping cunt.

two things:

1. that’s fucking hot.

2. that video has clearly been tampered with; it was edited to show the barest of the highlights.

this was a conscious decision, with deliberate efforts. this was personal.

an invitation.

wade rubs one… okay, fine.

wade rubs three out before he’s running back to that apartment he’s daydreamed about. mid-parkour, another notifcation comes in. wade falls, because of course he does, but while he waits for his ankle to mend itself back into its socket, his eyes devour the new message.

> darl wants to know if you’re in.

wade sends a dick pic as a reply.

wade busting a fat nut behind tim hortons because he’s patriotic like that

(ext)