#like do they think i WANT to be physically unable to be vulnerable or let ppl close to me

[roaringheat]

Found out a couple days ago that I have avoidant attachment style but a like huge chunk of shit abt it online is shit like "how to cope w/ being in a relationship with someone who has this" or tiktok sayin shit like everyone that has it is toxic and incapable of love

[pjmxtra]

trusting you⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

paring: experienced! 니키 x virgin!fmr

warning: smut! angst! fluff! fingering, size kink, p in v

an: first request thank you sm!! hope i did well. i had so much fun writing it.

“I don’t want to disappoint you, Ki,” you whispered, voice barely audible, swallowed by the closeness of his mouth on your neck. His lips moved slowly, reverently down the delicate line of your throat, lingering at each pulse point as if memorizing your rhythm.

You felt so small beneath him—so tiny and breakable in his lap, dwarfed by the width of his frame, the strength in his arms. He made you feel like porcelain, something fragile, precious. Untouched. Which, in a way, you were.

You’d never gone this far with anyone. Not because the chance hadn’t been there, but because it had never felt right. It had never felt safe. Until him.

Riki’s lips paused against your collarbone. Slowly, he lifted his head from the crook of your neck, and his dark eyes caught yours. There was no teasing smirk this time—no playful edge. Just concern. Just quiet, open patience. Your soft eyes stared up into his, wide and glossy, your brows drawn together as your hands twisted nervously in your lap.

You didn’t want to think about the others he’d been with—those nameless shadows that came before you. You knew he had experience. You knew he wasn’t coming into this with the same shaky hands and fluttering chest that you were.

And maybe you’d tried to convince yourself it didn’t matter. But it did. You hated that it did. It dug in deep, curled cold around your stomach, a silent insecurity you tried so hard not to let surface.

But it always found a way to rise.

Riki’s expression softened even more when he spoke. “Where’s this coming from, hmm?” His voice was deep, low like a rumble against your skin. His hands, large and firm on your narrow waist, tightened just a little—just enough to ground you. Just enough to remind you that you were here, in his arms, not some distant thought drifting away.

You looked down, unable to hold his gaze anymore, your vision blurring as your fingers clutched the hem of your shirt in your lap. You sat cross-legged on top of him, practically folded into his body, the top of your head barely reaching the underside of his chin. It made everything feel more intense, more real—the stark contrast between his strength and your vulnerability.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled, your voice thick with the tears you didn’t want to shed. “I know it’s dumb, I just… I can’t stop thinking about how I’ll never be like the others. I’m not… I don’t know what I’m doing, and I’m scared I’ll mess it up. That I’ll mess us up.”

Riki’s jaw tensed for a second, like the thought of you feeling that way physically hurt him. His hand moved up from your waist, big palm cradling your cheek, gently turning your face back to his.

Your eyes brimmed with tears, lashes damp and trembling. You tried to turn away, embarrassed, but he wouldn’t let you. He held you there, his touch so careful despite how easily he could hold you still.

“Hey. Don’t cry, sweet girl,” he murmured, his voice quiet and full of something unshakably tender. “Don’t let that pretty head of yours ever think you could disappoint me.”

He kissed your tears away—first your eyes, then the tip of your nose, then your trembling mouth. The kiss wasn’t rushed or rough. It was soft. Slow. As if time didn’t matter. As if all that mattered was making sure you felt it—that you knew it.

His arms wrapped tighter around you, drawing you impossibly closer until your chest was pressed to his and you could feel the steady thump of his heart beneath your hands.

You were completely enclosed in him, wrapped in his warmth, his strength. His scent. Like nothing else existed beyond the shell of his embrace.

“I want this with you,” he said, his voice just above a whisper now, his breath brushing your lips. “Not because you’re perfect. Not because you’re experienced. But because you’re mine. And I’ll take care of you… every step of the way.”

You nodded against him, your body relaxing in the safety of his hold. Your breath hitched when he said it—you’re mine. Something deep inside you ached at those words, a kind of ache that wasn’t pain, but longing.

You nodded again, too full of feeling to speak. You clutched at his shirt, tiny hands fisting into the fabric like you needed to hold on to something solid or else float away.

Riki pulled back only enough to see your face. His thumb brushed along your cheek, and then down to your chin, tilting your head up.

You looked so small beneath his gaze, so delicate in his lap, legs draped over his thighs like a doll placed in the arms of something far bigger. His size made you feel nervous, but not in the way that made you want to pull away. It made you want to fall deeper, to give yourself over completely and trust he’d catch you.

“Lie back for me,” he murmured, voice low, guiding you down onto the bed like he was laying down something precious. His hand stayed at your waist as you shifted, your body trembling faintly beneath him.

He moved with careful slowness, one knee resting between your legs, his frame casting a shadow over yours. Your breath caught again when his hands slid up your sides—slow, reverent. Like he was memorizing the shape of you.

“You okay?” he asked, and his voice was softer now, velvet-smooth, all the teasing long gone. “You can tell me to stop. Anytime. I mean it.”

“I don’t want you to stop,” you whispered, barely able to get the words out. Your voice shook, your fingers clinging to his arm. “I just… I’m scared.”

“I know, baby.” His lips brushed your forehead. “But you’re not alone. I’ve got you. I’ll take care of everything.”

The mattress dipped as he leaned down, his mouth ghosting over yours. His kiss this time was deeper, a little firmer. He kissed like he meant it, like he wasn’t just trying to make you feel good—he was trying to make you feel safe. Like this wasn’t just about bodies, but about trust. About you handing yourself over to him completely—and him treating that with the weight it deserved.

He took his time, undressing you slowly, piece by piece, whispering soft praise the entire way.

“So beautiful,” he murmured, his eyes roaming over your body like it was art. “So fucking soft. I could spend all night just looking at you.”

You trembled under the weight of his gaze, hands instinctively moving to cover yourself, but he stopped you gently.

“No,” he said firmly, but kindly, taking your wrists in one large hand. “Don’t hide from me. Not tonight. Let me see you, baby. Let me have you.”

You swallowed thickly, your chest rising and falling fast as you slowly lowered your arms. You felt bare in every sense—not just naked, but exposed. But Riki didn’t leer. He didn’t compare. He didn’t hesitate. He just looked at you like you were the only thing that had ever mattered.

His hands were everywhere.

Large, warm, calloused—so much bigger than yours, and they moved over you like you were something delicate he had to treat with reverence. His touch was slow, deliberate, every sweep of his palm down your trembling sides igniting a fresh wave of heat that settled low in your belly. He leaned over you, his frame easily caging yours in. His chest hovered just inches above your own, his forearms braced on either side of your head, muscles taut with restraint.

Your body was already trembling beneath him—nerves, anticipation, raw vulnerability all coiled into something electric. And he felt it. You could see it in his eyes, blown dark and focused entirely on you, and you could feel it in the way he touched you—not rushing, not pushing, just guiding, always waiting for you to follow.

“Spread your legs for me, baby,” he murmured, voice low, coaxing. “Nice and slow.”

You obeyed, heart pounding so loud you could barely hear your own breath. Your thighs parted shakily beneath him, small legs spreading around his hips, and his gaze dropped between you for a moment before he groaned softly, something deep and rough in his throat.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he muttered, running his hand up the inside of your thigh. Your skin jumped under the heat of his palm. “So soft. So tiny down here…”

You gasped as his fingers grazed over your folds, his touch featherlight but deliberate. He took his time exploring you, mapping out every twitch, every gasp, every time your hips lifted off the mattress in search of more. His other arm held you still, anchored across your waist, the sheer size of it a stark reminder of how easily he could pin you down completely if he wanted to. But he didn’t. He never took. He asked.

“Does this feel good?” he asked, dipping his head beside your ear, his breath hot against your flushed skin. “Tell me if anything’s too much.”

“N-no, it’s good,” you whispered, voice barely holding steady. “It’s really… it’s good.”

He smiled against your skin, lips brushing just beneath your jawline as two fingers slid between your folds and circled your clit, slow and lazy. You cried out softly, hips twitching up against his hand, and he hummed in approval.

“That’s my good girl,” he murmured. “Look at you… already so wet for me.”

Your cheeks burned, but the praise only made the heat between your legs build. Your breath came in shorter gasps as he worked you open with his fingers—first one, then another, stretching you so carefully, gently easing you toward the point where your body would be ready to take more.

His fingers were thick, his knuckles pressing just enough to make your walls clench, and you could feel how much bigger he’d be than this.

“Doing so good,” he whispered. “So tight. You feel how your little pussy holds onto me? That’s just from my fingers, baby.”

You whined, eyes squeezing shut, thighs trembling around his hips. He withdrew his fingers and brought them to his mouth, sucking them clean as he watched you with half-lidded eyes.

Then, he settled between your thighs again, one hand guiding himself to your entrance.

“I’ll go slow,” he promised, kissing the center of your chest, just over your heart. “I’ll stop the second you say the word.”

You nodded, breath shaky. “I trust you.”

That was all he needed.

You felt the head of him press against you—thick, hot, and unforgiving. The stretch made your breath catch, eyes wide as you instinctively tried to draw back, but his hand returned to your waist, holding you still, grounding you.

“Shh,” he soothed. “Just breathe, baby. You’re okay. Just a little more…”

Every inch was a new kind of overwhelming—his size, the fullness, the way your body struggled to accommodate him. He didn’t force it. He eased in slowly, watching every flicker of emotion on your face, kissing your forehead, your cheeks, your trembling lips.

“There you go,” he whispered when he was fully seated inside you, chest rising and falling heavily against yours. “You took all of me, sweet girl. Just like that.”

You could barely breathe, but the fullness… it was intoxicating. You felt split open, claimed, utterly owned. He stayed still, letting you adjust, his thumb stroking soothingly over your hip as he kissed along your jaw.

“Tell me when you want more,” he said softly, voice barely holding back the tension straining in his body.

“I want it,” you breathed, clutching at his shoulders. “Please.”

He groaned again, deeper this time, and began to move.

Each thrust was slow, controlled, his hips rolling against yours with a careful rhythm. You could feel how he tried to hold back, to make it good for you before himself. Your body gripped him tightly with every movement, the stretch still just shy of too much, and it only added to the intensity.

“You feel that?” he murmured against your ear. “That’s how deep I am inside you. Only you get this, baby. Only you get to have me like this.”

His hand slid beneath your lower back, lifting your hips slightly to change the angle, and suddenly the friction hit just right. Your back arched, a strangled moan escaping your lips, and he groaned in return, thrusts faltering for just a moment.

“That’s it. Right there, huh? There’s my good girl.”

You couldn’t speak anymore—only whimper, lost in the drag and push of his hips, the way he filled every inch of you so perfectly. His name fell from your lips like a prayer, breathless and trembling, as his pace built just a little faster, rougher—but never losing the tenderness.

His thrusts deepened, slow but powerful, each one pressing you down into the mattress with the full weight of him. You were small beneath him—stretched wide, trembling, completely pinned by the press of his hips and the sheer length of him inside you.

Your hands clung to his shoulders, nails digging in, and he didn’t flinch—he welcomed the mark, gritting his teeth as you arched under him, your moans soft and broken.

“That’s it, baby,” he murmured, lips brushing your ear. “Take it—just like that. Let me feel you.”

The pressure was building fast now—hot, thick, overwhelming. It started in your core, a slow tightening coil that grew sharper with every drag of his cock along your walls. He hit something inside you that made your breath catch, your eyes go wide as your body jerked beneath him.

“There?” he rasped, voice suddenly rougher, rawer. “Right there, huh?”

You nodded frantically, tears slipping from the corners of your eyes—not from pain, but from how much it was. The pressure. The pleasure. Him.

“I can’t—Riki—” Your voice broke, your body twitching. “I-I think I’m gonna—”

“Come for me,” he growled, suddenly burying himself deeper, his hips grinding hard and slow. “Come on, sweet girl. Let me feel how tight this pretty little pussy gets when you fall apart for me.”

Your whole body locked up beneath him. The orgasm hit hard, rushing through you like a wave that tore the breath from your lungs.

Your back arched off the bed, mouth falling open in a silent scream, legs trembling violently as your body clamped down around him. He groaned through gritted teeth, hips stuttering against you as he fought to stay steady through your climax.

“That’s it,” he hissed, watching you unravel beneath him. “Fuck, look at you…”

You were shaking, tears streaking your flushed cheeks, unable to stop the helpless whimpers as the aftershocks pulsed through you. Your body twitched every time he moved inside you, too sensitive, too full, too much—and still, you didn’t want him to stop.

“I-I can’t—” you whispered, broken, clinging to him.

“Yes, you can,” he said, voice softer now, lips brushing yours. “You’re okay. You’re doing so fucking good.”

And then, with a deep, guttural moan, his hips slammed flush against yours, and he spilled into you, filling you with thick warmth. You could feel every pulse of it, deep and slow, his breath ragged as he pressed his forehead to yours.

For a long moment, neither of you moved—just tangled together, breathing each other in.

When he finally pulled out, he did so carefully, cradling you like you’d break. You whimpered at the emptiness, body still pulsing around nothing, and he shushed you gently, laying soft kisses on your cheeks, your jaw, your lips.

“Shh, I’ve got you,” he murmured, gathering you into his arms, pulling you onto his chest like you weighed nothing. “You did so good for me. So perfect.”

You curled into him, limbs trembling, skin slick with sweat. You felt raw—used and loved all at once, stretched and filled and held. His hand ran slowly up and down your back, grounding you as your heart slowly returned to a steady rhythm.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice no longer rough but achingly tender. “Talk to me, baby.”

You nodded, still pressed against his chest. “Yeah… just overwhelmed.”

His arms tightened. “I know. I know, sweet girl.”

He kissed your forehead, holding you close, letting you rest there in the soft silence that followed. The bed sheets were damp, your body sore and tingling in the best way, but none of it mattered. Not with him holding you like that—like you were the most precious thing in the world.

“I love you,” you whispered, surprising yourself.

Riki didn’t hesitate.

“I love you too,” he murmured, voice a low, steady vow. “And I meant what I said. You’ll never disappoint me. You’re mine… and I’ll take care of you. Always.”

You buried your face into the crook of his neck, letting yourself melt into him completely—safe, wanted, loved.

And this time, you believed it.

[devotedsweetheart]

・❥ IT'S JUST A DREAM...

▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊|• 0:10

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ rundown :: caleb comes back from a mission while reader is sleeping. unable to control himself, he decides he doesnt want to wait until you're awake.

WARNINGS :: NSFW! 18+, porn with no plot, somnophilia, softdom!caleb, sub!reader

a/n :: bit of a gross fic i've concocted but hey, we don't kink shame around here!!

he shouldnt be doing this.

god, he really shouldnt be doing this.

he cant help it. the way you looked so cute and vulnerable laying sound asleep, basically inviting him in with the position you were in. laying on your back, arms placed on your stomach, one leg straight out and the other bent in; giving perfect access to your core.

caleb stands still; too scared by his thoughts to do so little as move. maybe if i just touch her once, it'll be like i wasnt even there... she won't notice.. fuck- he's convinced himself that he's perverted, that he's sick in the head. and perhaps he is, perhaps he's just like the twisted creeps on the internet, but that doesn't stop him. he's been away from the warm embrace of your cunt for way too long, his self control is too slim to worry about if you're conscious or not.

dropping his bags right where he was, he marches over toward you with great quietness. he stops right before he touches the bed, looking over you like a predator to his prey, imaging what exactly he wants to do to you thats so subtle that you wont wake up to it. after a moment of thinking, he decides he'll only take your panties off to jerk off to, then he'll go to bed with you. and thats exactly what he does.

with gentle yet shaky hands, he bends down and proceeds to attempt to rip your underwear off without really touching you, occasionally having to adjust the growing buldge in his pants. he manages to tear them halfway before he feels you move, beginning to change your sleep position to one that is on your back. he freezes completely and immediately removes his hand from your body, immobile with fear.

all he can do is stare at your ass while you're turned over. he physically cannot wait any longer as he brings an arm down to the bed to lift himself up, face directly on your butt. he's moving on autopilot at this point, unbuttoning his jeans with haste precision while inhaling your sweet scent; every exhale comes a moan as quiet as he can make it.

once his cock is finally out of his trousers, it's already twitching against the bed. caleb has no shame anymore; grinding his hips on your sheets and taking in your backsides aroma while whimpering into you. he has zero power over what he does, all he can do is think with his dick, mumbling small "ohfuckohfuck"s into your undies, bringing himself closer and closer to the edge. he's truly just a mess with his out-of-place hair and rolled back eyes, all for you.

everything was going swell until you slowly began to regain consciousness, somewhere in between awake and asleep. "c-caleb?" you whispered into the night, feeling for his hair. "caleb is that you? what're you.."

but instead of stopping his movements, he only speeds them up, egged on by the sound of your voice. "shhhshshh baby.. it's just a dream.. go back to sleep for me..." he mumbles back to you, grabbing your arm and using his other hand to grope at your asscheek. you let out a soft moan thats really only a sigh, and thats what sends him over the edge.

white hot spurts of cum cover your blanket and bedsheets as he snuggles his head closer into you in an attempt to quiet himself. "o-..ohmy fuck pips i-.." he murmurs, eyes remaining shut while his grip on you tightens.

after he's done working himself. he leans back to look at the mess he's made. drool strings from your panties to his lips, orgasm bright prominent on the covers, red marks on your wrist, underwear halfway ripped. he couldn't be more perverse.. truly.

only for you, though. ;)

[bahablastplz]

Roommate: Chan x Reader

Roommate Chan who wants to help you destress with a massage after a long day... Content: Just straight-up smut Warnings: Fingering, praise, degradation, a little humiliation WC: 1100

You were laying on the couch with Chan. 

Chan has been your roommate for some time and your friend for longer than you could remember, so to be sprawled across the couch, limbs somewhat intertwined and a movie to be played in the background was nothing unfamiliar. Especially after a long day at work, taking the time to unwind together was nothing new. 

But today you were just so tense. Stiff all over, muscles tense and sore, you were unable to find relief. You suppose that your gym workout from yesterday had been a little intense, and you were certainly feeling it now. 

Subconsciously as you watched, you started to punch your legs a little bit, trying to get the tightened muscles to relax. 

Chan’s hands shot out and grabbed your own, making you freeze. 

“What are you doing, babygirl?” He sounded concerned but the nickname made sparks fly through your body. 

“Nothing,” you say, trying to explain it away. Of course, Chan would never let that happen. 

He doesn’t let go of his grasp on your hand. “You call punching your legs ‘nothing?’” He inquires. 

“My legs are just a little sore,” you sigh. “It was leg day yesterday.” 

“Ahhh,” he says, as if that explains everything. Maybe it did. His eyes are back on the screen, but his hands are grabbing your legs to place them over his lap, pulling you even closer to him.  

“What are you–” 

“Shhh, helping,” he says. His big, strong hands are on your legs now, his dexterous fingers working into your muscles. You let out a sigh of relief as you feel him working away the tension, his thumbs moving over your thighs to rub deep yet gentle circles into your skin.  You’re aware of every movement, however, and you hate how flustered his actions have you. Chan never shied away from physical touch, and he’s even given you a brief platonic shoulder massage before. As your roommate, of course he’s seen you in more vulnerable scenarios, seeing into the more casual or intimate aspects of your life, but this… you couldn’t help but stare at the man who seemed so unfazed. 

As he rubs into a particularly sore area, you let out a tiny groan. 

“Feels good?” he asks, a small smirk splaying across his features but his eyes glued to the screen. 

You nod your head. The tone of his voice has arousal running through your entire body and your breath hitches as he moves higher, still only mid-thigh. You hope he doesn’t catch your reaction–surely he won’t, he’s not even watching you.  

Lightly he slaps the inside of your thigh, causing you to gasp. “Use your words,” he scolds. 

“Yes,” you answer, too fast. “Feels good, Chan.” 

“Good girl,” he praises, though the way he coos the words makes it feel less like a compliment. Your eyes stay glued to him and the way he stays unaffected; his words make you squeeze your thighs together lightly, searching for a little relief. What you weren’t expecting was for him to grab the flesh of your thigh hard between his fingers, causing you to let out a moan. 

“Such a filthy girl,” he says. “Here I am trying to give you a massage and make you feel good but you’re over here having dirty thoughts, aren’t you?” His hand stays between your legs, rubbing your inner thigh but not making its way higher. You squeeze your legs harder, trapping his hand between your legs. 

“Need you, Chan. Touch me, please?” You decide to just say it, just needing to get past the hurdle knowing it will be worth it. He doesn’t let up as easily as you think though. 

“Oh? But I am touching you, sweet girl,” he says, pinching your inner thigh and causing you to spread them open for him. “Or are you talking about your needy pussy?” He trails his hand up, resting it against your clothed core. You nod your head unabashedly and he laughs at your excitement. His eyes are on you now, finally, and you burn under his gaze. You watch as he pushes the fabric to the side and dips his fingers shallowly into your entrance, gathering your arousal on his fingers. He pulls out to show you how soaked his fingers are. 

“Look how wet you are for me, baby,” he praises. “My sweet, dirty girl is so needy for me, all from a little touching.” 

“Just for you,” you confirm, and you watch him take a deep breath, affected by your words. Sliding his hands back down to your center, he gathers more of your arousal and spreads it around your clit, circling slowly around the area with his fingers. It’s obvious from his stare that he is more than alright with taking his time with you, relishing in the way that you fall apart on his fingers. He hisses when you spread your legs open wide for him, giving him full access. He moves fast, grabbing your shorts and ripping them off of your body. When you close your legs again he tuts, grabbing them and forcing them wide open for him, slotting his body in between your legs. 

“Such a pretty pussy,” he says. He slides two fingers into your entrance now, shallowly fucking his fingers in and out of you. “Such a slutty pussy, for me.” You relinquish control and let him take over, submitting to the urge to arch your back and let out a loud moan. He continues to babble about how he can’t believe he’s waited for so long to have you like this, how he’s been thinking of touching your pussy for so long, and you start to tremble beneath him. 

“Chan,” you say, trying to warn the man, but he shushes you. 

“I got you,” he says. He shoves his fingers into you deeper but doesn’t change his pace, curling his fingers. “Let go for me.” That’s all you need to find your release, completely coming apart for him on his fingers. He sweet talks you right through your orgasm, slowing his movements. 

You watch as he pulls his fingers out of you, looking deep into your eyes as he puts his fingers into his mouth and sucks. “So sweet,” he says, more to himself than to you. He reaches over your body for the remote, clicking the power button and turning off the device. The action makes you laugh. 

“What?” he laughs with you. “Don’t act like you were actually watching that, I definitely wasn’t.” You scoff at his words and screech as he picks you up, cradling you into his chest. 

“Your room or mine?”  ***

Author's note: Sorry not sorry for the double Chan post, he is my bias though so don't be surprised...

Masterlist Recs

[caxasy]

caleb is a pretty crier. the way the tears make his purple hued eyes glisten even brighter, or darker. the way it changes depending on why he’s crying is something you’ve noticed. if he’s crying from pleasure or happiness, his eyes seem to shine brighter, the tears enhancing his colored eyes.

if he’s crying from anger, desperation, or sadness, they grow dim and turn almost black with how dark they become.

either way, he was always pretty with the tears streaming down his face. they’d be so visible to you; going down his cheeks, tracing his jaw, falling down his adam’s apple before disappearing beneath the collar of his shirt.

unfortunately, whenever he’d be in front of you with tears down his face, your first initial thought would be how pretty he was. then, of course, you’d tend to him with nothing but care and love. cooing at whatever was wrong that made him break down in tears.

however, on the not so rare occasion he didn’t need comforting, but rather a voice of reason calming him down, that’s when caleb was truly at his most beautiful, in your opinion. when he’d be so angry, so jealous, so possessive that tears are streaming down his face. not for himself, but from how hard he’s restraining himself to not go to whoever was spiking up his envy and “taking care” of them.

“do you see what these people do to me?” it’s a rhetorical question, of course all you can do is lend him an ear to hear his tantrum, “i don’t want anyone else near you, but me. you don’t need anyone else, but me,” the angry tears make his eyes darker. “you don’t need them. tell me you don’t, tell me you don’t need them,” he repeats it a couple more times, words practically slurring together as he presses his forehead against yours, eye contact still being maintained.

“i don’t need them,” he whimpers at your confirmation, eyelids fluttering shut and allowing the tears that were gathering on his waterline to be released. they drip onto your skin, but you let them soak in, not daring to wipe them away.

you lean up ever so slightly, kissing his tears and tasting the saltiness of them with a small smile on your face, “don’t need anyone but you, caleb,”

“say it again,” he groans, arms lifting to be on either side of your head as he cages you in. you breathe in his cologne as you move so your whispering right into his ear everything he needs to hear. your hand goes up from his stomach, pressing ever so lightly to make his breathing ragged, to his chest, to his neck, before finally resting on his jaw.

“i’m yours,” you hear him whimper as you lightly squeeze his face, “and you’re mine,”

“that’s right,” he swallows the lump in his throat, “you don’t belong with anyone else, but me. you promise me it’s going to stay like this forever?” he’s speaking through gritted teeth, sounding almost angry. but you know him better. know that he’s speaking from a place of desperation, not anger.

“i promise, caleb,” you coo, affectionately rubbing your thumb up and down his cheek. he reacts well to your touch, nuzzling into your palm and even kissing your skin so softly you’d think you were made of porcelain.

“i’ll be whoever you want me to be, i’ll do whatever you want me to do — just don’t leave me.” his words are ragged, new tears springing to his eyes again. he grabs your wrist, fingers trailing upward and holding your hand in his as he presses you further into the wall.

his hips are against yours the moment your pressed to the hard surface, keeping you there and unable to escape. not that you wanted to, you quite liked being in this position. caleb trapping you, making it physically impossible to leave him.

as his head ducked down into your neck, wetting it with his tears and kisses, you could only smirk in satisfaction. having caleb so vulnerable, so emotional in front of you always brought a smile to your face. he was never one for hiding his feelings, anyway. but to know you invoke such a strong reaction in him to the point he falls into tears; regardless of it being from envy or joy, it will always bring a smile onto your face.

[avelera]

Unwell thinking about how the possibility to push Viktor to ask for more of Jayce's attention, or even to remove Mel from the picture, didn't even OCCUR to Future Viktor. Because he truly thinks that Jayce can't possibly unconditionally accept him and his flaws. He NEEDS to be physically perfect first.

So the timeline of Jesus Viktor keeps playing out as an inevitability, partially fueled by Jayce's attention being pulled towards the Council and missing a lot of red flags happening with Viktor.

When all it would have taken was Viktor directly asking Jayce for help or attention instead of skirting around the issue/generalising it to "people need our help". That sweet dog of a man would have dropped anything if only you asked, Viktor

Jayce would have dropped EVERYTHING, E V E R Y T H I N G if just ONCE Viktor had given him an unambiguous, "Help me!" I believe this in my bones.

And this gets into something I love about S1, which is how airtight it is written (S2 has a lot of bigger events but lays less groundwork, it's why I give it a 95% instead of a 100% like S1, just as a writer). Because you can go back to S1 and see every single moment that people could have prevented what comes later, and exactly why they were unable to do so.

You can see that Silco wants to shut down the bridge to trap Vi in the undercity -> He tells Marcus to find a way to shut down the bridge -> Jayce as a new Council is flustered and overwhelmed so when Marcus says the only way to be 100% safe is to shut down the bridge he says sure, let's do that then, because Marcus deliberately only gave an engineer one solution so the engineer listened -> Viktor gets trapped in the blockade after acquiring Shimmer, he's nervous and on edge because he has illegal drugs on him for an illegal experiment -> Jayce is overwhelmed and harried and freaking out because he's been summoned down to the bridge to collect Viktor. He's also freaking out because he's now worried for Viktor's safety because he's been getting fed crisis after crisis about how it's the people from the undercity who are dangerous, he just saw death for the first time after Jinx's explosion and he grew up with Piltover prejudices that are resurfacing under the assault of Silco's machinations, Jinx's attacks, and Marcus's manipulations -> Jayce freaks out and yells at Viktor out of fear for his life -> Viktor who was in an emotionally vulnerable place, fearing for his own life and worried he'd lose Jayce's regard if he proceeds hears Singed's voice in his head saying Jayce might not understand, decides not to tell Jayce about the Shimmer. Jayce's prejudices also push Viktor to clam up instead of going to him for help like he might have otherwise -> overall the chaos on the bridge and the Molotov further heightens the tension and robs Jayce and Viktor of a moment where Viktor would have felt comfortable coming clean, asking for Jayce's help, or bringing him in on the experiment -> Sky dies as a result -> EVERYTHING that happens in Act 2 as a result of Viktor doing those Hexcore experiments alone.

Like that's just one example of how that one bridge scene argument is caught in an incredibly intricate web of human cause and effect, it's fucking genius.

But we see why Viktor didn't ask for help, even aside from that one conversation on the bridge. He generally doesn't ask for help, perhaps because of his disability and his pride, perhaps out of shame because he knows these experiments are extreme, perhaps out of fear because he doesn't want Jayce to know how close to death he really is and fear clouds your judgement, perhaps because it's a very human, self-defeating thing to do.

And as for not asking Jayce to dump Mel... how could he? He's dying. When he dies, Jayce is going to be alone in the world, how can he begrudge him a new partner? Even if he despises her existence in Jayce's life with every fiber of his being? Especially when she seems to represent that he and Jayce's paths in life have diverged, and maybe that's what's best for Jayce! He has a promising future elsewhere, even if Viktor hates it, he's dying and he doesn't have the right to ask Jayce to change, not unless he can cure himself. Not unless he can offer himself as a real alternative.

Which is what makes the Mel-inspired look for his robot in 2.08 so fucking bonkers. Like wow, Viktor did it! He cured his disease and transcended humanity and he's working on their dream like they always wanted and he's BACK and he's ready to FIGHT for Jayce's time and attention, while effectively cosplaying as a robot version of Mel, in the Council Chamber that stole so much of Jayce's attention as if he needed to do any of those things to get Jayce's attention other than just ask him for it directly using his words.

[juancarlos-ortiz]

Espresso - Happy Lowman x Reader One Shot (NSFW 18+)

A/N: MINORS DNI. Inspired loosely by Espresso by Sabrina Carpenter. I cannot help but write steamy stuff for this man! In my Happy Lowman era fr. And he is down BAD for reader in this one. Anyway enjoy my loves!

Warnings: Reader has female anatomy but I tried to keep pronouns to a minimum. Slight soft!Happy. Kissing, swearing, alcohol. SMUT - oral sex (f and m receiving) fingering, penetration, sex without a condom, cum, slight dirty talk, mature content 18+ (please let me know if I have missed anything)

Word Count: 2373 words

Happy pulled his cut on roughly, throwing open the door of his dorm and storming out. "Are you fucking kidding me?" the scorned croweater called after him as she hastily pulled her clothes back on. Happy ignored her, glowering at the Prospect behind the bar and shoving him out of the way before grabbing a glass and pouring himself a shot. Throwing it back he pulled his phone out of his pocket and opened his contacts. His thumb hovered over your number. This was not the first time he had been unable to perform with a croweater in his bed. At least not the first time since he had met you. No matter how hard he tried - even going as far as trying to close his eyes and imagine it was you underneath him - he couldn’t do it. You had officially ruined anyone else for him and he was pissed. It wasn't meant to be this way. You weren't meant to do this to him. To affect him like this. He stalked out of the club house, jabbing his thumb against his phone roughly and calling your number.

It took several rings, and Happy was sure it was going to go to voicemail, before you picked up. "Hey honey," you crooned down the phone. Just the sound of your sweet voice had a zing shooting up Happy's spine, his skin prickling with desire. It was like your mere presence, even through a phone, was a shot of espresso that woke up every one of his nerve endings. He had never felt so vulnerable. "You up?" he asked gruffly. He heard you sigh through the receiver. "Really Hap?" you asked, your tone teasing. "Four nights in a row, you sure you wanna go there?" Happy grunted, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers. He knew why you were teasing - when you had started sleeping together Happy had made it clear that this was extremely casual. "Don't expect me to be here every night," he had specifically said. You knew he would probably still be sleeping with whichever croweater landed in his bed on the nights he wasn't with you, but you had never complained. Happy liked that.

But now… now he wasn't so sure casual was what he wanted. And the idea of you sleeping with anyone else - which you certainly had the right to - made him want to cave somebody's skull in. He wouldn't though. He was pretty sure that wouldn't win him any favours with you. "You up or not?" he repeated, starting to grow antsy. He was having trouble physically staying away from you, couldn't even go an hour without thinking about you. Your smell, your taste, the feel of your skin under his fingertips, the way you said his name, how you laughed at the things he said because you actually found them funny and not just because you were trying to gain something from him. Somehow in the short span of your casual trysts you had wormed your way beneath his skin, the very being of you curling around his heart and squeezing it tightly. It scared the fuck out of him but it was something he couldn't deny. Happy didn't know how to go about this, but surely just being with you was a start. Your light chuckle came through the phone. "Come over."

You smiled as you heard his bike pull into his spot out the front of your house. His spot. You rolled your eyes at yourself. You knew you were getting attached the moment things had begun with Happy. But you were quite proud of how you had handled him being so adamant about this being casual. Of course he wanted to keep things casual - surely no man in his position, a bad boy MC member surrounded by all the women he could get his hands on up and down the west coast, would want to be tied down to just one person. It hurt, but you found it easy to squash those feelings. It surprised you though, the frequencies of Happy's visits these past few weeks. His presence in your life had gone from once or twice a week, to every second night to now 4 nights in a row. Maybe there was a sweetbutt shortage? He pushed the door open and paused when he saw you standing close by waiting for him. "Should be keeping this locked," he said, motioning to your door.

You smiled softly and walked over to him, leaning past him to push the door closed and lock it. "Happy?" you asked, referring to the lock now being in use. "I'm always Happy," he deadpanned. You let out a laugh and Happy felt his heart squeeze in his chest. You stopped laughing when you noticed how intensely he was staring at you. Happy was already a very intense guy but something seemed off with him. "You ok?" you asked, taking a tentative step towards him. "You really can't get enough of me huh?" you asked, testing to see if teasing him would make him relax a little. Happy moved quickly, gripping your jaw almost painfully as he pressed his mouth to yours. You gasped in surprise and he pushed his tongue into your mouth, pulling a moan from you as you gripped his t-shirt under his cut. You grasped the leather, pushing it down off his shoulders before breaking the kiss and tugging at his shirt, helping him pull it over his head.

You grasped at the skin of his torso, mapping over the various ink he had. You skimmed quicker over the smiley faces, aware of what they represented. Now was not the time to think about what his hands, which were gripping onto your jaw and the side of your neck, were capable of. Happy leaned in, kissing the side of your neck roughly, smiling as you shivered against him. "'Course I can't get enough of you," he admitted, his brain trying to catch up as his traitorous mouth took over. "What did you do to me huh?" he asked, pulling back and pressing his forehead against yours. "Can't get you out of my head. Can't even get my dick up for anyone else. Can't sleep, even if I do you're in my fucking dreams anyway," he panted out. Your heart was pounding in your chest at his words, but you tried to school your face, smirking and your eyes hooded heavily. Happy growled and brought his lips to yours again, kissing you roughly and grunting with appreciation when you gave as good as you got. He walked you backwards, having been in your house more than enough to know the layout.

He got as far as the loungeroom and decided this was good enough. He roughly tugged your shirt off of you, his hands immediately pawing at the bra you were wearing, his lips and teeth trailing harsh kissed down towards your breasts. You moaned, your hands grasping at his shoulders. None too gently he pushed you down onto the lounge, falling to his knees in front of you and pulling you by your hips towards the edge of the cushion. He leant forward, pressing a kiss to the skin of your stomach before gripping the waistband of your pants and panties and pulling them down your legs. He gripped the back of your thighs and pushed them back toward you, spreading you lewdly. You whined and wriggled under his grasp, but he only pressed you back farther, the burn in your hips toeing the line between pain and pleasure at the filthiness of it all. Happy groaned as he took you in, the slickness that had begun to gather at your entrance, the way you spread out so pretty for him.

He knelt forward, his mouth landing on your pussy so suddenly you yelped and jumped in your seat. Happy continued to hold you down, running his tongue up and down the centre of you, dipping his tongue in and out of your hole at times, his mouth watering at the taste of you. He lapped and moaned, his eyes nearly rolling back in his head as he feasted, pulling whimpers and moans from you as the shuddered beneath him. He placed his lips over your clit and sucked harshly, making you arch and shriek under him, your hands falling to cover your own mouth in surprise at your outburst. Happy looked up at you and laughed while keeping his mouth on you, the vibrations making your toes curl. "Happy," you whined, trying to sit up and grasp his head. "Want you to fuck me," you breathed out shakily. Happy pulled back, this sight of his lips covered in his spit and your slick making your pussy clench. He harshly smacked your thigh. "You're gonna let me enjoy eating your pretty pussy and then," he smacked you again, making you gasp. "I might fuck you." Who was he kidding. There was no way he wasn't fucking you tonight.

He resumed his measures, rolling his tongue through your folds, before swiping it over your clit repeatedly. His fingers were suddenly pushing at your entrance and you felt your stomach clench as they slipped inside of you. Clenching your teeth, your head flopped back and your legs began to shake. Happy didn’t let up and suddenly, you were crying out, unable to stop as your orgasmed tremored through you. Happy pulled away only when you began to jerk under him, oversensitive. He stepped back up onto his feet and began to unbuckle his belt, smirking at the spent mess that was you. He roughly pushed his jeans and boxers down, gripping himself and passing his hand over in a couple of pumps. Suddenly, your eyes were open entirely and you slipped onto the floor on your knees in front of him. You pulled your bra off before grasping the shaft of his cock and pulling the head straight into your mouth, rolling your tongue over the slit. Happy grunted in surprised, gripping the back of your head.

You sucked him in greedily, pumping him in and out of your mouth as spit began to pool. Happy breathed heavily, his nostrils flaring as he met your stare. He wasn't the loudest guy in bed but you had come to learn how to tell he was enjoying himself. His grip tightened on your head and suddenly he was pulling himself out of your mouth. You whined and made to reach for him but he stepped around you and took a seat on the lounge. "Ride me," was all he said, reaching his hands out to you. You stood and walked over to him, straddling over his thighs has he gripped your waist. Reaching under you, you grasped his cock in your hand and moved his tip to your entrance. You lowered yourself slowly onto him, your pussy gripping as he slid in. Happy sighed and rested his forehead against your collarbone. Slowly you began to move, whimpering as his cock nudged against that sweet spot, nestled so perfectly against your walls. You moved leisurely, switching your direction and movements, gasping and moaning at the feeling of him inside of you.

Happy's hands were gripping your skin so tightly you knew there would be a bit of bruising. He was grunting softly and you could tell he was getting impatient. You sped up your motions only a little, smirking when Happy looked up at you, his jaws clenched and irritation in his eyes. "Don't be a fucking tease," he ground out, trying to pull you up and down on him quicker. You held your ground, grasping the side of his face as you planted your lips on his. Happy bit down on your bottom lip, making you gasp and pull away, your hips stuttering long enough for him to take control. He pulled you off of him, somehow spinning you both quickly off the lounge. Suddenly you were pushed onto your knees, facing the back of the lounge, your arms rested against the backrest. Happy gripped your hips roughly from behind you, his thumbs spreading your ass cheeks apart, his dick pushing its way back into the warm confinement of your pussy. You shuddered and moaned as he pushed in and out of you rapidly, leaning over you to bite down on the junction of your neck and shoulder.

His hand slipped under you, pressing his fingers against your clit and rolling over it as he fucked you harshly. Your eyes started to roll back, your moans becoming broken and your stomach coiled tighter and tighter. "Gonna let me cum in you tonight," Happy asked, his own voice strained. "Gonna let me fill you up like a good girl?" His hips snapped against yours, your skin almost feeling raw. You nodded dumbly, words no longer achievable. Happy's chest rumbled in approval, and he continued to rub light circles over your clit. The coil in your stomach snapped and you cried out, your second orgasm slamming into you so suddenly your arms collapsed beneath you and your face pushed into the lounge as Happy continued to pound in and out of you. He gripped your hair, pulling your head up as he pushed harshly in and out one, two, three more times before stopping with his cock filling you up entirely, groaning as he came. He pulled himself out of you, watching as his spend pooled at your hole, a proud smirk on his face.

Noticing how wrecked you were, he pulled you to your feet and guided you towards your bathroom. Turning on the shower and pulling you under the stream. He wrapped his arms around you as the hot water sprayed over you both. You pulled away and looked up at him, exhaustion lining your features. Happy smiled and leant down, capturing your lips in a kiss uncommonly soft for him. You sighed as he pulled away, leaning your head against his chest once more. "You got me, Hap?" you asked. He smiled, his throat tight and heart clenching once again deep within his chest. He pressed his lips against your hairline. "Yeah baby. I got you."

[sugrhigh]

BOY NEXT DOOR 8 - ( c.s )

part seven

summary- you and your roommates live beside a bunch of senior hockey players, one of them being the infamous team captain chris sturniolo. he’s effortlessly flirty and undeniably attractive, but he’s also a pain in your ass. you find that you have to fight between lust and hatred as you finally get to know the boy next door, whether you want to or not.

warnings- ANGST! it’s just fluff and angst get ready baby

a/n: hellllooooooooo sorry everything takes me fucking forever to write but i am once again back hehe i truly hope you enjoy

despite what many people might think, chris has never been on a proper date in his life. and it’s silly to admit, considering he’s hung out with women in so so many different contexts, but it’s never been formal like that.

he swears he’s never even said the word out loud, as if he was scared of getting infected with real feelings, scared of things getting too serious. so he vowed there would be no flowers, no fancy dinners, no romance. just pure physical connections.

and it stayed that way for so long that he figured it would never change. he’d be a bachelor forever, hopping from girl to girl, showing them no more vulnerability than a simple smile.

then he met you, got to know you, and that mindset disappeared. the fear of being blindsided is still there, nestled somewhere deep in the trenches of his heart.

but to him, you’re worth the potential heartbreak.

so when he shows up at your doorstep with a bouquet of tulips saturday afternoon, it’s a bit of a surprise for the both of you, though not an unwelcome one.

“there’s my pretty girl.” chris smiles, trying desperately to play off his nerves.

my pretty girl. the words ring through your head like a church bell, and even though it’s embarrassing, you’re unable to stop beaming at him.

“what are you doing here?” you ask curiously as he hands the flowers over.

he swallows thickly, shoving his now-freed hands in his pockets. “i wanted to ask you out. on, like, a real date.”

for a moment you think you’ve heard him wrong, or that this must be some kind of prank. in what world would chris sturniolo, infamous playboy, be throwing in the towel and dating? let alone dating you?

but his face remains eerily serious. you can tell he’s a little anxious by the way he’s shuffling his feet, which is endearing. you’re not sure he’s ever done this before, and yet it's the sweetest gesture.

you’re pleasantly shocked by the happiness that’s washing over your body, and as much as you don’t want to give into it, it’s almost impossible not to.

“i think i can definitely squeeze that into my calendar.” you grin.

he visibly relaxes, chuckling slightly at your response as he shakes his head. “next time i’ll schedule it with your secretary.”

the fact that he said next time almost makes you freeze, but you play it off without skipping a beat. your heart is doing backflips, so you clutch the flowers and try to contain it.

“you know the drill, i’m a busy woman.” you shrug playfully.

“be ready by seven?” it’s a question more than a request, because he’s not fully confident that you actually are free.

“yeah,” you nod, stepping closer to give him a kiss of reassurance, “i’ll see you then.”

even feeling your lips on his for a second drives chris absolutely crazy. but there’s plenty of time for that later. right now he’s the perfect gentleman, the guy you deserve.

“oh my god, is it seven already?” ramona checks her watch from the couch, completely in a daze.

she's been religiously rewatching her favorite show, swearing that it inspires her to work on the project she’s been procrastinating. you know she’s too invested for that to be true, but you can’t blame her.

“it’s time indeed.” you nod, slipping your feet into your knee highs.

“oh my gosh, you look so good!” she gushes, popping up from her spot to come wrap you in a hug.

mona barely gives you time to fully zip up your shoes, and you both almost go toppling. you can’t help but laugh at her enthusiasm, straightening up so you can hold her back.

“jesus, you could’ve given me one more second.” you tease as you pull away.

“sorry, cuteness aggression. i think i’m just too excited for you.” she apologizes, even though she knows you’re not actually angry.

“i’m happy you approve.”

it’s the truth; having both of your roommates’ support means the world to you. especially since you’re falling for him, which is terrifying on its own.

you can’t remember the last time you’ve been this serious about a guy, but it feels so good.

ramona smiles right as the doorbell rings, and you hear cassidy come bounding down the stairs. she looks bewildered, definitely startled awake from her nap, and you can’t help but laugh.

“he’s here! and damn, you look sexy bitch.” she says, joining the two of you by the living room.

you smile as she pushes you forward slightly, shaking your head. “you guys are embarrassing me.”

“payback for the millions of times you’ve done it to us.” cass snaps back playfully.

ramona rolls her eyes, waving you to continue to the door as she tugs her counterpart into the kitchen. “no fighting, go have fun! we love you!”

you let out a breath, squaring your shoulders and raising your chin as you step toward the door. you’re more nervous than you expected to be, but when you pull open the door it’s like you immediately relax.

seeing chris dressed up in a quarter zip and those ripped jeans you adore on him makes your heart swell. the easy-going expression on his face calms your anxiety almost instantly.

you see his own eyes travel down to your exposed legs, covered only by your favorite little black skirt. your off-the-shoulder long sleeve is hidden slightly by your leather jacket, bold makeup accentuating your features.

he feels like he’s suffocating, seeing you look this good knowing it’s all for him. that you’re almost his. he wants to taste you, to ruin your lipgloss just to feel you on his mouth.

“you look…unreal.” he breathes, offering you his hand as you step out to join him on the front step.

“you look pretty great too.” you admit sheepishly, and he gives you a gentle kiss because he can’t help it.

you chuckle under your breath as he pulls away, wiping the gloss from his mouth with your thumb gently. chris just smiles, kissing the pad of your finger briefly before tangling his hand in yours.

“come on, we can’t be late to our first official dinner reservation.” chris urges as he leads you to his car.

he’s embarrassingly giddy as he holds the passenger door open, and you hop inside happily. it’s become one of your favorite spots, riding around next to him with his hand on your thigh.

tonight is no different. his thumb brushes against your skin reassuringly as you hum under your breath, watching chris drive out of the corner of your eye.

he’s just so handsome, especially right now. you’ve always known that, but it’s different. you care about him so much that just looking at his face kind of makes your day, as horrifyingly honest as that is.

you can’t help but smile to yourself, and he pulls into the parking lot of a fancy little restaurant a few moments later.

“i’ve always wanted to try this place, you know. i just never had the right occasion.” you admit as chris helps you back out of the car.

he laughs slightly, hand snaking its way to your waist after he closes the door behind you. “i haven’t either, but you’re the only worthy occasion i can imagine.”

you feel your cheeks heat up slightly. “stop flattering me, i know you just want to get lucky after we’re done.”

“i want a lot more than that, sweetheart.” chris replies truthfully, kind of enjoying letting his mouth run. he’s held his feelings in so much lately that it’s nice to just be honest.

meanwhile you’re desperately trying not to read into his words too much, but at this point it’s hard not to. it seems like he truly does like you, and for the first time in your life you might actually see a future with someone.

once you’re inside, the hostess guides you to a nice booth in the corner, smiling sweetly at chris as she leaves. it doesn’t matter; he’s got his hand in yours, and he’s not looking at anyone besides you as you sit down.

“quit staring at me like that.” you tease, even though you’re only half-joking.

chris tilts his head to the side, smirking at you like he can read your mind. “why, does it make you nervous?”

“no.” you lie, and he just shakes his head like he doesn’t believe you.

your waiter saves you a moment later and you order your drinks; a beer for him and a margarita for you. by the time they’re on the table, you and chris are already deep in your usual random conversation.

it’s impossible to stop looking into his eyes as you chat, your foot bumping against his as you both lean forward towards each other. his fingers dance across the top of your hand, simply because he’s unable to go more than a minute without physical contact, especially when you look so gorgeous.

you’re halfway through the actual meal when you’re finally forced to excuse yourself and use the bathroom, even though you don’t want to leave for even a minute.

“don’t miss me too much.” you joke, sliding out of your side of the booth to give him a quick kiss.

“you know i will.” he smiles as you pull away, watching you head toward the restroom with hearts in his eyes.

looking at yourself in the mirror once you’re done only confirms what you already knew; you’re having the best first date ever. your reflection smiles at you as you wash your hands, so wrapped up in your own head that you barely notice the girl who comes up beside you until she clears her throat.

startled, you glance her direction, only to find that she’s already staring right at you. your stomach bottoms out as your body fills with dread for a reason you’re not yet sure of.

“uh…can i help you?” you ask, trying to keep your voice light and friendly.

she flips her long brown hair over her shoulder, cat-like eyes narrowing just a bit. “so, you’re chris’s little plaything, huh?”

you try to swallow the lump in your throat, but it simply won’t go away. “that depends on who’s asking.”

the girl scoffs, turning away from you just a bit so that she can reapply her lipstick in the mirror. “the girl who fucked him three weeks ago when you walked out, that’s who’s asking.”

the acidic taste of bile fills your mouth, and you suddenly feel like you’re going to throw up. your ears ring and the world shrinks, like there’s no air left to breathe.

how the fuck does she even know that? did he talk to her about you? your mind is spiraling out of control, thinking about every single aspect of that fateful morning.

you see her smile sharply at your reaction, satisfied that she’s caught you off guard. it’s impossible to compose yourself, though, because everything is coming crashing down.

“c’mon babe, you thought he really liked you? he didn’t even wait twenty-four hours to get on top of me.”

“he wouldn’t.” you whisper, even though you know that’s not the truth.

this time she actually barks out a laugh, tossing her tube of lipstick back in her bag before turning to face you once more. it doesn’t help that she’s undeniably gorgeous, exactly his type.

“he would, and he did. but if you don’t believe me, just ask him. mention the name daniela and you’ll see for yourself.” she says, fixing her hair one more time before stepping around you to get to the door.

you hear it slam behind her, still rooted in the same place, unable to move. you don’t want to believe it, but she was speaking with such certainty that you’re already convinced.

tears sting your eyes like salt in the wound. your face is no longer filled with the cheerfulness it possessed a few moments ago; now you just look crestfallen. but you won’t give in to your emotions yet, not without confirmation.

you don’t want to confront chris, but you know you have to. so you send your roommates an SOS text to ensure you have a ride home, and then you steel yourself to go back.

you have no idea where daniela went, but it doesn’t matter because you don’t look anywhere but straight ahead as you walk. your whole body is tingling, entirely on the verge of breaking down as you find your way to the table.

not yet, not yet, not yet.

the second his face lights up at your return, you want to crumble. he looks so sweet, the boy you thought had finally changed for you. but then he notes your tight expression, and a frown replaces the grin.

you don’t sit down. you just blink at him for a second, trying to force the words out. you’re silent until he opens his mouth to speak, which finally empowers you enough to cut him off.

“tell me about daniela.”

he straightens uncomfortably at the mention of her name, which already gives you your answer. your heart twists, so much so that it physically hurts inside your chest.

“what?” chris responds, staring at you dumbly.

“did you or did you not sleep with a girl named daniela a day after me?” you ask as calmly as possible, ignoring the fact that your fingernails are digging into the skin of your palm.

his face somehow contorts to look even more grim, and you shake your head slowly. a smile of disbelief makes its way across your lips, which you suppose is better than sobbing.

“yeah, i’m done here.” you snap, yanking your jacket and purse up before turning on your heel.

“please—” his hand circles your wrist and you yank it away without a second thought, not caring if anyone sees.

you just keep walking. everything is completely numb at this point. it doesn’t even feel like you’re in your own body, you’re just moving. the fresh air hits you as you step outside and you inhale the cold, letting it shock you awake a bit.

you unravel your jacket from your arms and put it on as you book it through the parking lot, only to realize that you’re shaking.

the double doors burst open behind you, and you hear him shouting your name, but you still don’t stop. his heavy footsteps increase in pace, and you make it to the sidewalk just outside the restaurant when he finally catches up.

“please, just give me the chance to explain.” chris begs, once again reaching for your hand to try and slow you down.

you stop, only to shove him away from you with a surprising burst of power. he let’s go, but he’s still looking at you desperately as if it’s not black and white.

“there’s nothing to explain. in fact, this is exactly why i fucking hated you so much to begin with, why i was so hesitant to let myself believe that you could actually feel something for anyone besides yourself. you made me look like an idiot, thinking that you’d changed at all.” you lash out, unable to control the rage spilling out of your mouth.

he winces, visibly hurt from your words, but he powers through anyways. “i immediately knew i made a huge mistake, and even though i did it thinking it would make me feel better, it made everything worse. when you left that morning i thought it was over for me, and it hurt in a way that i’ve never felt before because i really fucking care about you.”

you snort, crossing your arms over you chest defensively. “yeah, well, you’re doing a fabulous job at showing it. i mean seriously, chris, do you know how fucking horrible that was? to find out from the girl herself because you couldn’t be bothered to at least be honest? and now you expect me to believe anything you say when in reality your words mean shit.”

chris feels you slipping from his fingers, so quickly that he doesn’t know how to stop it, or how to get you to trust what he’s saying. it’s a type of distress that he’s never been through before, because he’s never gotten attached.

“i know i fucked up, and i know i should’ve never even responded to her in the first place. i don’t have the right to ask you to trust me, but i need you to know that it didn’t mean anything to me.” he pleads, unable to keep the emotion out of his voice now.

you feel your eyes burning again as you meet his gaze, and you’re not sure if it’s hurt or frustration making you cry.

“it means something to me. i put my faith in you enough to go all the way, to let my guard down this past month and admit to myself that i do have feelings for you. and now i look just as stupid as everyone told me i would, even though i really did trust you so much. i thought things were different, that you wouldn’t dare do that to me.” you’re choking on your tears as you speak, and all he wants to do is reach out and wipe them away but he can’t.

you take a step back, almost instinctively. “but you did, and now it’s over.”

chris feels his whole world stop for a second. he takes in every inch of your heartbroken face; eyes wide and red, tears streaking down your cheeks as you hold yourself in your own arms.

he hates himself so much, more than he ever has in his life, for destroying things with the only person that matters. especially on a night that was supposed to be so special.

“i’m begging you not to do this. i’m so, so sorry that i ruined your confidence in me, but it’s only ever been you. you live in my thoughts, in my dreams, in every single goddamn place i go. and it took me way too long to say it, but i want to be with you so badly that it kills me. you know this is real, and i will do anything to prove it to you.” he takes a step closer, but you move away and put your hand up as a warning.

it’s everything you’ve been wanting him to tell you, but it’s too late. you don’t know how to forgive him yet, and you’re not sure you’ll be able to forget.

“i can’t, chris. i just…i don’t know anymore.” you sound so defeated, but you don’t care.

by the grace of god, your friends pull up at the exact right moment to save you. cass throws her hazards on and stops the car, glaring bullets at him through the glass as she waits for you to get in.

you’re done talking for now, and chris recognizes that. there’s nothing he can do or say to take it back, and as much as he wants to keep trying, it’ll only push you even further. so he nods his head once solemnly, vision beginning to blur as he takes all of you in one last time.

you’re the girl of his dreams, and he’s absolutely fucked it.

“i’m sorry. i’m so sorry.” he repeats as you pile into the backseat, unable to conjure up any words besides those ones.

it registers in your head, but you don’t respond. you can’t even look at him anymore, because it’s too hard to think about what could have been. so you close the door hard, determined to shut him out of your life for good this time.

@fawnchives @l9vesick @55sturn @luverboychris @teapartyprincess4two @pinksturniolo @mattinside @stonermattsgf @impureals @chrisactualwife @fikefries @riasturns @mattybsbitch @mattsmunch @sturnifyed @julessspoetry @beijhe @luckistar-posts @gnxosblog @braindead4l @hearts4matty @orangeypepsi @ponyosturniolo @cupidsword @rainydayenthusiast @sturnvvz @wurlibydominicfike @poopydroopt @bernardsleftbootycheek @trilliwarner @rubyjanexxx @reallykaz @neatcarrot767 @kirby0strombolli @bunnysturns @junnniiieee07 @hrt-attack @sturnssmuts @stunza @beccaluvschris @asturniolos @slutz4sturniolos @mattslolita @alorsxsturn @sturnrc @chrissystur @kellsbells-18 @realqueenofpepsi

[wandering-winchesters]

First Moments: Hug

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader Summary: The first time Dean hugs you. A/N: I am going to keep it going! Please let me know if you have any suggestions for "Firsts"! Word Count: 1,143

The dusty Kansas sunset painted the world in streaks of orange and purple as you stood outside the small, dilapidated diner in Lebanon. You’d been on the road for weeks, chasing a string of supernatural leads that didn’t pan out, and your frustration had finally caught up with you. The Winchester brothers were somewhere inside, sharing a rare moment of peace over greasy burgers and fries. You’d been tagging along with them for a few months now, after a chance encounter during a hunt in South Dakota.

At first, you weren’t sure how long the partnership would last. Dean, ever the protective big brother, had been wary of letting a stranger join their team. You were no stranger to the life, though—you had your scars, both physical and emotional, to prove it. Still, earning Dean’s trust felt like climbing an impossibly high mountain. He was guarded, sharp-tongued, and carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, a fact you’d come to realize more deeply as time went on.

It wasn’t that he didn’t like you—he just didn’t trust easily. You’d seen glimpses of his softer side: the way he’d check on Sam when he thought no one was looking, the gruff jokes he used to break tension, and the rare moments when his walls came down just enough to reveal the man beneath the hunter. But a hug? That seemed as unlikely as a demon voluntarily taking a holy water bath.

You leaned against the Impala, arms crossed, staring out at the quiet stretch of road. Your mind wandered to the hunt you’d botched last week—a werewolf case in Nebraska. It should’ve been straightforward, but a moment of hesitation on your part had nearly cost Sam his life. Dean hadn’t said much about it afterward, but you could feel the tension radiating from him. You’d been carrying the guilt ever since, and tonight it felt heavier than ever.

The door to the diner creaked open, and Dean stepped out. His leather jacket was slung over one shoulder, and he had that familiar look of suspicion and curiosity on his face.

“You gonna stand out here all night, or what?” he asked, his voice rough but not unkind.

You shrugged, not trusting yourself to speak. Dean wasn’t the kind of guy you could fool with small talk or half-hearted excuses. He saw through people like glass.

He approached slowly, his boots crunching on the gravel. “You’ve been quiet lately,” he said, leaning against the car next to you. “Quieter than usual, I mean. What’s going on?”

You hesitated, debating whether to brush it off or let him in. Finally, you sighed. “Just... thinking.”

“Dangerous pastime,” he quipped, though his tone lacked its usual edge. When you didn’t laugh, he frowned. “Come on, out with it. What’s eating you?”

You glanced at him, surprised by the genuine concern in his eyes. It wasn’t often that Dean let himself be openly vulnerable, even in the smallest ways. “It’s that hunt in Nebraska,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I screwed up, Dean. If you hadn’t been there, Sam might’ve—”

“Stop,” he interrupted, his tone firm but not harsh. “Sam’s fine. You’re fine. That’s what matters.”

“But it was my fault,” you insisted, the guilt bubbling to the surface. “I froze up, and—”

“And you’re human,” he said, cutting you off again. “It happens. Trust me, I’ve made more mistakes than I can count. You learn from it and move on.”

You shook your head, unable to meet his gaze. “I just... I don’t want to be a liability. You and Sam, you’ve been doing this your whole lives. I don’t want to be the reason something goes wrong.”

Dean was quiet for a moment, and when he finally spoke, his voice was softer than you’d ever heard it. “Listen, this life? It’s not easy. Hell, it’s damn near impossible sometimes. But you’re part of the team now, and we’ve got your back. You’re not a liability. You’re family.”

The word hit you like a punch to the gut. Family. It was something you hadn’t felt in a long time. Not since you’d lost your parents to a demon when you were a teenager. Not since you’d been hunting alone, keeping people at arm’s length because getting close to anyone felt like a risk you couldn’t afford to take.

Dean must have noticed the look on your face because he shifted uncomfortably, running a hand through his short-cropped hair. “Look, I’m not great at this touchy-feely stuff, but... I mean it. You’re family. And family doesn’t bail when things get tough.”

Something in you broke at those words. The tears you’d been holding back for weeks spilled over, and you quickly turned away, embarrassed. “Sorry,” you mumbled, wiping at your eyes. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Hey,” Dean said, his voice gentle now. Before you could protest, he reached out and pulled you into a hug.

It wasn’t one of those quick, awkward pats on the back you’d expect from someone like Dean. It was solid, grounding, and full of unspoken emotion. His arms were strong around you, steadying you as you let yourself cry against his chest. You could feel the warmth of his leather jacket, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, and the faint scent of motor oil and whiskey that clung to him like a second skin.

For a moment, the world stopped. The weight of your guilt, your fears, your loneliness—it all seemed to fade in the safety of his embrace. Dean didn’t say anything, and he didn’t need to. The hug said it all: You’re not alone. You’re not a failure. You’re family.

When you finally pulled away, his hands lingered on your shoulders, grounding you. “Feeling better?” he asked, his voice gruff but kind.

You nodded, swallowing hard. “Yeah. Thanks, Dean.”

He gave you a small smile, the kind that didn’t come around often but lit up his whole face when it did. “Don’t mention it. Seriously. Ever.”

That earned a laugh from you, and the tension between you eased. For the first time in weeks, you felt like you could breathe again.

Dean patted the hood of the Impala, his way of signaling that the moment was over. “Come on,” he said, opening the passenger door. “Sam’s probably eaten all the fries by now, but maybe we can grab some pie for the road.”

You climbed into the car, feeling lighter than you had in days. As the Impala roared to life and the brothers started bickering over music choices, you found yourself smiling. The road ahead would still be hard, but for the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel like you were facing it alone.

Dean didn’t hug often, but when he did, it mattered. And in that moment, it was exactly what you needed.

Tag List: @roseblue373 @hobby27 @jc-winchester @whump-loverz @pizzagirlxnsfwx @king-of-milf-lovers @jollyhunter

[metranart]

"She's the fuckin' blood running through my veins, the air filling my lungs-" Hawks admitted unashamedly, giving one last long lick to Dabi's twitching cock before standing on his feet, proudly. "She's irreplaceable to me and I came here to fuck HER…. Not the other way around…."

ft. Hawks centered, Hawks x reader, Heavy! Dabi x Hawks, Slight! Bakugo x reader, Slight! Dabi x reader, sexual content

Hawks x UA Student! Reader (Part 15)

-

Warning tag: obsessed! Hawks, possessive! Hawks, naive! student reader, violation of trust, dubious consent, mating cycles, rut response, obsessive behavior, uncontrollable thirst for reader, manipulation, forced, thigh riding, hormonal minds out of control, sexual content, first time, cock riding, teenage fuck, Dabi's toxically interested in you, Bakugo bestie yet secretly inlove wit you, love confessions, cock-drunk, Hawks trying to be good but failing miserably, gaslighting, HEAVY plot, lots of smut.

-

Yesterday's incident

A few days after the Nomu attack, everyone began to prepare for the sport’s festival, and between that, the classes and training, you felt more exhausted every day. Physically and mentally exhausted, so vulnerable and confused, unable to swallow the bitter pill of what had happened, it was a mix of emotions too complicated to deal with.

And the boy with the crimson stare who was constantly watching you without your knowledge, noticed it too.

"(Y/N), you didn't even try to dodge my last attack," Bakugo's body plopped down next to yours, unconcerned with how close he was, a viciously rough push bumping your shoulder to get your scarce attention. "Earth to (Y/N)."

You grinned tiredly, and returned the push as hard as you could, not even moving him.

"Is that the best you can do?" Bakugo teased with a growl, "I thought you called yourself a hero." He was as friendly as he could be, even so, witnessed your features darken.

The champagne-haired man clenched his jaw, dammit! His body tensed next to yours and a trace of guilt forced your mouth to open, but you were silenced from whatever you were going to say by Bakugo's soft fingers suddenly pressing against your lips.

"Let me start," he asked, and you waited, his thumb caressing your bottom lip with a tenderness almost alien for someone like him and a long sigh, followed. "I know what it feels like to feel vulnerable and incompetent-"

"Jeez, thanks man-"

"Zip it, I’m not done," his fingers squeezed your lobe as he usually did when he wanted to be serious with you, you had a secret language since pups, so, immediately fell silent. "What I mean is, I've been attacked and unable to defend myself twice already," your breath caught in your lungs, it was true. The first time he was saved by All Might and the second time by you and your classmates, "...I know how you feel after the Nomu's attack," his hand slid like a snake that coiled between your fingers, making your heart rant pleasantly, not scared and confused like some other Hero did, "...I know how you feel, that powerlessness that makes you rage inside and leaves you exhausted," every word was hitting home, only it wasn't the Nomu you resented, "you have to let it out somehow, shortie...” you loved his nickname for you, a simple mock of how massive he was compare to you, “or you're going to go crazy," he smirked gloomy, "trust me, I know. It's a nasty thing."

"What does ‘King Explosion Murder’ suggest to letting it out?" Your attempt to tease him worked.

Bakugo chuckled low before set to think, for a moment, "I train non-stop, but I know your quirk isn't the fighting type-"

"For me, training non-stop would be making out with every living boy I can get my hands on," you shared bitterly amused, your brow furrowing at your few options.

"Or-" his fingers played around yours and something in the air thickened, "…... just kiss me."

You couldn't hide the growing blush on your cheeks quickly enough, one very similar to what your best friend sported. Bakugo cleared his throat. "We've been intimate before, we've kissed,"

"Only when drunk-"

Bakugo shrugged. "You gave me head once after training." He reminded you without the slightest care at been surrounded by your classmates. 

"Keep it down, Kat. That was more than three months ago-"

"-I returned the favor almost immediately." He licked his lips, knowing you were watching, and you looked away so fast, your neck cracked.

"Bakugo, cut it out, someone is going to hear." You muttered low.

The explosion boy just shrugged again, uncaringly, highly amused by all the range of emotions he could muster out of you by mere teasing. He just hated when you were gloomy.

"Let them know that I ate you-"

Your hand slapped at his mouth to silence him. "You have no filter, silly boy." You scolded him goodheartedly and felt him smile under your palm. His tongue coming out to lick you, just for the fun of the fireworks he knew he’d unleash inside you. Your skin bristled and you released him as if his wet tongue, burned you.

"If you want, we can," he offered again, watching closely how you cleaned your palm on your uniform sweatpants. Cheeks showing that he was embarrassed but his eyes showing the contrary, shining with implacable determination. "Just say the word, and I'll be your boy toy."

It was your time to giggle, openly laughing at the term; it was the last term you would expect to come out of his brash mouth.

You stayed silent, and for the first time since he started talking, he felt nervous. Were you going to reject him? Would he be able to handle it? ...was there anyone else? Bakugo refused to find out.

"It's for training purposes, (Y/N)," he added, sensing your refusal, pushing for his secret agenda. He just needed time alone with you, not as friends, so that you could see him in another more favorable and less innocent light, "Don’t duel too much about the implications, you have to improve your Quirk control. Who better than me as a test subject?"

Your lips pursed.

"I'm discreet," you raised an accusing eyebrow, "when I want to be."

"We've known each other for a long time," he continued to push as discreetly as his desperation to have you would allow, "not to mention that I have excellent tongue play, you are fervent proof of that." He showed off, sticking out his long, fat tongue and moving it up and down, imitating his latest exploits on your more intimate parts.

You buried your elbow in his ribs this time, hard and he chuckled. 

"I know, what you fear but it won’t happen,” sometimes you forget that he could read your mind, “our friendship is indomitable," he stated suddenly, proud of his fancy use of pompous vocabulary.

“Indomitable, huh?... Pride and Prejudice?” Bakugo sneered a snicker. You, being the only other creature alive who knew his embarrassing and well-hidden, weakness, for period novels. 

“Wuthering Heights. You, illiterate monkey.” Your giggle tasted wonderful to him and seeing his opening, took advantage of the fact that Deku had just broken a training machine, and everyone was distracted by it. 

"Let’s give it a try."

“And, if doesn’t work?”

Without warning, Bakugo yanked you by the collar of your uniform, dragging your whole body to his without even breaking a sweat, to whisper against your lips. “Then, we give it another try.”

His minty lips smashed yours, and your breath caught in your breast while being crushed against the strong pecs of your best friend, his massive frame devouring your petite one. His hand with a mind of its own circled your lower back, sliding around your waist to end up sitting you on his lap, where his two hands gave itself the task of manipulate your head at will, bending you a little to submerge his tongue better, now a little to the other side to suck and nibble at your lips, he wanted to hear you moan, he wanted you to do it for him... he wanted-

A crack was heard, viciously loud as a gym window exploded like a grenade.

Bakugo abandoned the sweet and addictive taste of your lips to cover you with his body and protect you from the rain of sharp glass. Good luck to everyone, it was just the impact of the noise since the rain of shrapnel didn't hurt anyone. Not even you, who were the closest.

"Are you guys, okay?" Deku appeared next to you in seconds, searching with his eyes for injuries.

"We're fine, nerd." Bakugo replied, gruffly. Damn timing! when everything was going so well. Izuku offered you his hand to pull you up and Bakugo could only growl at how frustrated he felt, he was seeing red.

"What the hell was that?!"

The kind green-haired boy shook off the remains of glass he could find off of you, and you quickly found yourselves surrounded by all of your worried classmates.

Professor Aizawa immediately sent everyone to the classroom…. and Hawks couldn’t feel more pleased.

The ever-watching, winged Hero’s aim as perfect as ever. He even managed to break the shield of the UA Academy from the outside, which was a huge red alert but for now, it served a purpose. The blonde’s lips pull into a nasty snarl, if anyone saw him at that moment, they would swear that he was a villain and not the number two hero of the country.

He had felt sorely tempted to barge in and pummel down that Bakugo with his own fists until he was nothing more than a disgusting, bloody pulp of meddling asshole.... but he had promised you a month, and a month he would give you.

“Enjoy your month, baby bird.” He phrased in repressed wrath. “Things are going to change big time, after.” 

-

Dabi couldn't stop laughing and cackling at Hawks, and how offended he looked as he almost ripped off his own Hero costume, his mouth ranting about some boy - apparently a friend of yours - who had the audacity to kiss you... Dabi loved the hypocrisy that his oldest acquaintance could show so carelessly. Hadn't he, himself raped you not less than a week ago without the slightest cordiality or permission? He still treasured that naughty set of photos. This bird was undoubtedly a born narcissist and a real, drama queen.

“Calm the fuck down, birdie.” Dabi suggested, airily, lazily passing his shirt over his head, “What did you expect? The girl hates you-”

“Nah-ha!” Hawks complained, shaking his head brazenly, his hand yanking sharply on the arsonist's belt to get him naked quicker, desperation clear in every pull. “My mate doesn’t hate me,” he stated in pent-up frustration, “…she’s just young—”

“—Too young if you ask me.”

Dabi let himself be bossed around, his belt slipping like a whip from his pants, his boxers pooled around his ankles next, the blonde already on his knees in front of him.

“I didn’t.” Keigo replied, tasting the shin of sweet from Dabi’s hardened cock. Wet tongue licking a fat stripe from his balls, up through the glorious shaft to then envelop the mushroom head in between his lips, kissing and lightly nipping the sensitive tip with noisy, lewd sounds.

“Fuck-birdie!” Dabi growled low in his throat, jauntily. The smallest of smirks twisting his scarred lips, his hands burying in the golden locks of his occasional lover, “Ho—fuck, like that.”

Takami Keigo smirked against the swollen piece of pierced, palpitating meat on his lips, eyes shut tight while he repeated the motion over and over again, teasing and enticing his receptor to the point of almost a sexual assault.

“Sit on it.” came that dark, gritted baritone through ragged breaths, losing all sense of composure and frankly loving it, shoving Hawks handsome face against his pubic hair forcing him to swallow him whole in one gulp. 

Keigo didn't even resist, the tip of Dabi's cock bottoming down to the back of his tight throat as if it were putting on a glove.

No gag reflex, no struggling from the doting Hero who didn't even get teary-eyed, he was a true professional. After doing it more than he liked to admit, his throat, no doubt, had already been well trained to withstand the brutal thrusts of his oldest, inclement friend. 

"Sit on it?" Hawks repeated amused, releasing his lips from the shaft with a smear of saliva and a wet pop.

His smut features got Dabi smirking just a little, his pierced tongue peeking out to wet dried lips as he slowly panted. The fire-bender cocked his head down, playfully.

“Worried you loved it so much that you'll forget about your mate?”

Keigo snorted loud, this time chuckling, blatantly. “You? replacing my mate?" he snickered darkly, "Nah—”

Dabi's thin eyebrows raised, quizzically.

"She's the fuckin' blood running through my veins, the air filling my lungs-" The birdman admitted unashamedly, giving one last long lick to Dabi's twitching cock before standing on his feet, proudly. "She's irreplaceable to me and I came here to fuck HER…. Not the other way around…."

The blond motioned his finger in circles, indicating Dabi to turn around and take it like a good, little cumdump. Just a warm replacement for the Pro Hero to play make-believe while that long month passes, and he is welcomed into your warm embrace again. 

Dabi found himself pleasantly surprised by this Hawks, had been a while since someone put him in his place. This promised to be fun.

"Why don't you make me, Number Two Hero of the Country?" The black-haired teased, and Hawks turned methodical.

Roughly yanking the Todoroki who, even putting up some playful resistance, ended up face first against the mattress, his bare butt being lifted into the air by merciless hands, spread like a whore for his tight ring of flesh to be presented and soon eaten by the nation's Golden Boy before being destroyed by his monstrous cock.

"You are going to shut the fuck up," Hawks ordered between twirls of his tongue, "and you are going to let me blow my load inside you," his voice sounded beyond aroused, a breathless snarl. "I don't want to see your fuckin' face while I imagine that you are HER, got it?"

COMING SOON PART 16....

➡️ NSFW Artwork of this story

@wtvbabes @dreamlessnight @naomi1247e @alicecil87 @geniejunn @justanerd1 @bakugosgirl01 @toxicxmindsposts @kezybear

[juuuulez]

📋 | carmen berzatto nsfw alphabet.

don’t ask what possessed me today. it was definitely all the weed.

soo much nsfw under the cut….this is just paragraphs of porn.

A= Aftercare (what they’re like after the act):

whatever ur carmy kink headcanons are i think we all agree that he’s really sweet afterwards :( he might suddenly get nervous or anxious and overthink everything you’ve done (“are you sure you’re alright?” “i know, i know, baby ‘m just.. i wanna take care of you, yeah?”) and you’ll have to assure him it’s okay! you loved it, he was perfect, he didn’t hurt you. he just wants some reassurance and then he’ll be finding you some water, a snack, whatever you need! (“just crackers? ‘cus i’ve got this new recipe, it’s a soup, i can make it—“ “nobody wants soup after sex, carm.”)

B= Body part (favorite body part their own or their lovers):

carmy doesn’t like many things about himself, initially.. until you’re quick to vocalise exactly how amazing he is. immediately, carmy is enamoured with just what he can do with his hands. his palm covering the entirety of your neck when you kiss, or how his fingers looked splayed over your hip. and fuck, his fingers! they’re really thick, and carmen secretly gets off on the fact that your fingers are so much smaller, so even alone, you’ll never be able to finger yourself as good, never be able to reach those spots that carmy touched with ease.

C= Cum (anything that has to do with it):

let’s be so honest carmen berzatto marking kink is so real. it starts out as a practicality, pulling out to spill over your thighs, sticky white liquid that clung to your curves, and carmy found himself growing more aroused the longer he stared at it. now, even if you’re on the pill, carmy will pull out for the sole purpose of pumping his cum wherever he can, a physical reminder of what’s his, because despite all his flaws, you belong to him.

however, assuming carmy can hold back cumming well enough for this is bold, so it usually ends in covering your already sticky cunt and lower stomach in it.

D= Dirty secret (Pretty self explanatory):

he jerked off with your panties once. it was near the start of your relationship, and carmen was so busy with the re-brand, he barely got to see you. so, one of the rare days he was over, he’d done some laundry for the both of you. and found some pink lace panties. and kept them. and, those nights he’d come home late and exhausted and slightly miserable, unable to call you for you were at home fast asleep, carmen.. used them to jerk off! sue him! he felt so guilty about it (poor baby) and admitted to it after a couple months of dating. he seemed so ashamed that you couldn’t help but go easy on the punishment… tying him to the bed and getting him off by only grinding over his swollen cock, wearing those same pink lace panties.

E= Experience (do they know what they’re doing):

of course he doesn’t. not properly, at least. carmy’s never had girlfriends, and maybe had a hook-up or two at fancy chef events in New York or Paris or wherever. nothing that mattered, at least. so this time, he’s careful and attentive. asking questions like he’s studying for a test, watching every single movement, every reaction. you wouldn’t be surprised if he was taking notes.

F= Favorite position:

ooof carmen definitely wants to see your face. he likes holding it in his big palms, whispering sweet words over your lips and swallowing your moans (“c’mon sweetheart, you can do it.. just one more for me, huh? fuck— your cunt fuckin’ wants it yeah? that’s it..”). probably missionary mostly, maybe he fucks you from behind one early-morning, his forehead pressed to your neck while the sun seeps in through the blinds.

G= Goofy (how serious are they):

not exactly serious, but he definitely gets into the zone. for him, sex isn’t casual, and it’s a time that means a lot to him. he’s choosing to be vulnerable for someone, and in turn, feels special that he’s allowed to see you like this. carmen can loose himself in the moment, his mind going uncharacteristically blank, too focused on the pure sensation and emotion connected with it. despite this, carmy can always be found gently tapping your cheek, pushing through the haze to ask “you with me, baby? feel good?”, because his pleasure only comes when you’re still into it.

H= Hair (grooming habits):

carmen doesn’t particularly allocate time to grooming down there, it’s not really a priority, unless his partner explicitly made it clear to him that was of interest. however, i don’t think carmy has the thickest of hair, just dark little curls in all the normal places. idk guys just thinking about shirtless lip…..he’s a pretty smooth guy.

I= Intimacy (in the moment romantic or rough/dirty):

definitely depends. i wanna say a mix of both? when you’re into it carmen is so lovely, making sure to express how much he loves you, how much you mean to him. but private time doesn’t come around very often, so it’s usually instigated with a needy carmen coming home, exhausted from a long shift, his hands gripping at your waist before the words come out. his actions aren’t demanding at all, still gentle, but hurried and desperate to get inside your cunt.

J= Jack off (do they masturbate and how often):

carmy is so a shower jerk person. i know guys i just know. he doesn’t like making a mess anywhere else, because it’s just an inconvenience, and cleaning the sheets or another shirt is just another useless task he doesn’t have time for. it’s rare he begins with the intention of jerking off, either. the hot shower melts away a day of tension, and carmen finds himself finally relaxing, finally tuning into his body, only to realise how much he needs this.

K= Kink (kinks what they like possibly unusual):

we’ve already established the marking kink… and now listen 😝 i am a sub carmy truther guys! i can’t help it he’s so baby i need him to cry for me ;( but carmy definitely likes being bossed around, being told what to do, when he gets to cum.. it’s a change from being in control of literally everything, which most of the time carmen feels all he does falls apart, so he enjoys not having to think (which usually means second-guess and reconsider and debate and obsess).

L= Location (where they like to get it on):

every single carmen office quickie fic is SO SO SO SO SO SEXY they always have me foaming and barking like a rabid animal….however i’m gonna have to say his or your bed! he likes the idea of you being comfortable..bonus points for you guys probably fucking more often on the couch, since needy carmen can’t wait long enough to split you open :(

M= Motivation (things that makes them tick/turn ons):

there are a variety of ways to get carmen in the mood, but his #1 is a confident partner who takes what they want. imagine carmy obsessing over the new menu, spending endless hours in the living room, papers and recipes and notes scattered over the table. you’ve barely gotten any attention all night, not necessarily in a needy way, just that this was supposed to be your night off together. the solution is actually quite easy: climbing onto the table, obscuring carmen’s vision of his work. before a protest can leave his lips, brows furrowed in confusion and slight distress, your hands are firmly pressing down on his shoulders. “you’re gonna eat me out, yeah? like you promised?” and he is DOWN on his knees, mind fucking short-circuiting, because suddenly there is nothing he’d rather do.

N= No (turnoffs or absolutely won’t do):

carmen really doesn’t like seriously hurting you, so no intense spanking or choking. however i really love choking 🙄🙄 so i think he’d wrap his hand around your neck, his finger rubbing the hinge of your jaw, his warm palm a gentle assurance of the power he has without fully exercising it.

O= Oral (receiving or giving and how skillful they are):

pussy eating champ…carmen genuinely gets off on being able to make you feel good. his strong arms bracketing your thighs, fingers digging into the plush skin, holding you to his mouth while his tongue fucks deep. carmy can’t help but rut against the mattress, hips hastily thrusting in tune to your moans, the swollen head of his dick rubbing against the sheets. “please, baby, please.. c’mon, just a little longer, please— i need it so fuckin’ bad.” he’ll cry into your cunt after your first orgasm, needing to eat your sopping pussy in order to cum.

P= Pace (how fast they are and how long they last in bed):

soft, grinding rolls of his hips against yours, holding your cunt against the base of his cock, letting your clit rub against his skin. carmen takes it slow, making sure to hit the spongy place right up inside you, the one that makes you cry and squirm.

Q= Quickie (do they prefer fast and hard):

carmen prefers to take his time with it, but more often you find yourself hurriedly making love on the couch, bench, shower, maybe even his car. clothes scattered around the room, a bra on the chair, carmen’s boxers under the coffee table. he’ll take you wherever he can, whenever the time finally allows it, and he makes it deep and fast.

R= Risk (do they like to try new things):

anything you want, he’ll hear you out. carmen loves to learn, he wants to know everything that makes you tick, and will willingly absorb anything you have to teach. that’s not to say he isn’t nervous, as he finds himself always double-checking you’re still alright, asking if it still feels good.

S= Stamina (how many times they can go and how long each round lasts):

definitely a multiple rounds kinda guy. he can’t help it! the sight of you laying there, stripes of cum over your stomach and shiny slick on your thighs, carmen finds himself hard all over again. expect a round two, maybe three from him, and even then he’ll probably eat you out again.

T= Toys (are they game for using sex toys on themselves or lovers):

carmen doesn’t see the use for sex toys, since he’d much prefer to be the one providing you pleasure. definitely not fully opposed, though, he’ll fuck you long and slow with a vibrator on nights where he just wants to watch and study you.

U= Unfair (how do they tease or do they enjoy suspense themselves):

i 🩷 edging so carmen 🩷’s edging! carmy puts on this needy desperate front (“please, fuck, i need’a cum, ‘m not kidding.”) but there is NOTHING alike to carmy’s mind going completely blank after denying his third orgasm in a row, his cock swollen and throbbing with each pass of your hand, only for you to finally give him permission (“cum for me, carmy, i’ve got you.”)

V= Volume (are they loud, what sounds, and do they talk):

think about the lowest, guttural moans you’ve ever heard. as carmen gets closer, they taper off into higher whines, soft whispers into your skin about how much he wants this.

W= Wild card (random sincannon of any sort):

now, carmen does not take disrespect in the kitchen, and clearly doesn’t tolerate people talking back. but you? there’s a certain fire in his stomach, when you glare at him over the pass, or don’t back up whenever he gets into your personal space. if you stand your ground, firm and sure about whatever you’re doing, carmen feels himself fostering a growing mixture of respect and arousal.

X= X-ray (what’s down below in dem pants):

i just KNOW carmen is thick…the stretch seems impossible every time, his cock filling up every inch inside your hot cunt, while carmen whispers that it’s going to be alright, that you can take it.

Y= Yearning (sexdrive level):

higher than carmen has time for. hence the jerking off in the shower, and fucking you on the couch. he’ll take anything that he can get, for he knows time isn’t on his side.

Z= Zzzz (do they sleep after if so how quickly after):

carmy will ask you a hundred questions about how you’re feeling, if you need anything, what he can do, before finally settling in beside you. sometimes he’ll lay there for a few minutes, before dragging himself up, uttering some excuse about needing to revise the new menu. you’ll fuss, try and pull him back down, and he’ll fold almost instantly.

[chronicallycouchbound]

Let People On Food Stamps Eat Hot Meals

Particularly on cold, rainy days (like today), while unhoused, sometimes all I want is a hot meal but it’s so difficult (if not impossible) to cook outside in the rain.

On top of this, I’m physically disabled and chronically ill. Medically, I’m supposed to have assistance with making meals as part of in home care. But I can’t get in home care without a home.

I just finished making dinner for my partner and I, it took 2 hours (3 if you include clean up). My knees are burning, my back is aching in it’s core, I feel like I’m about to faint, and all my joints are screaming. But it’s the only way we could have a hot meal today and get some protein, which is vital for our health conditions.

People judge us for using what little funds we have on McDonald’s some days. Because sometimes, it’s the only hot meal we’ve had in days. And sometimes I’m physically unable to stand, move, and do all the actions needed to cook. Or I faint while cooking. Or the rain doesn’t let up. Or we don’t have access to a kitchen for the day. Or the fire danger outside is too high. The list goes on.

Without my own kitchen to use, I don’t get to sit down while I cook (right now, everything is wet from the rain), I can’t meal prep, I can’t stock up on freezer meals, I can’t use an oven or a microwave to reheat leftovers, I can’t just reach across the kitchen for a fridge item (we have a small amount of fridge space friends let us use), everything about cooking is exponentially harder.

And even if I had 24/7 access to an accessible, full kitchen, it’s not even physically safe to cook my own meals. Even then, having a pre-made, hot, ready-to-eat meal could keep me safe and give me independance.

And all the safety needs for hot meals aside, emotionally, hot meals are also life saving and comfort. Meals are a part of community, culture, love and art.

So many gatherings we have as communities center around food. Most people in the United States would think of ones that often hold great value to Western culture. Mother’s Day breakfast. Spaghetti fundraisers. Wedding cakes. Birthday dinners. Bake sales. Carnival treats. BBQs on weekends. Holiday roasts. Lunches with friends. Casseroles brought to grieving neighbors.

Our world revolves around food.

I firmly believe that no poor person could ever “take advantage” of a system designed to feed us by using food stamps on hot food. This restrictive rule serves no purpose but to punish the most vulnerable of poor people— unhoused, disabled, and those of us living in unsafe conditions.

It also serves to restrict our access to joy and comfort. The joy can sometimes come from the food itself, but also the joy from having shared experiences solidified by the sounds of laughter and forks clinking on plates. The comfort can sometimes also be from the food itself, but also the experience of being loved and cared for while your close friend brings you pizza from your favorite restaurant because you lost your drive to eat three weeks ago and they worry about you. They know you. Those slices of pizza bring color back into your world.

Poor people deserve to be able to have the comfort, joy, and care that goes into a hot meal. We deserve the autonomy to choose foods that are best for us ourselves. We deserve to be able to eat in ways that are accessible to us.

Above all, we deserve access to hot meals.

Originally posted to my blog on 6.3.22

[makochi-furin]

Hii hii! I hope your doing okay today or tonight, I was wondering if you could write something for dazai (idm if it’s scenario, hc or mix of it and if you add another character you really want to write about).

The request basically is; a reader who finally told Dazai about their past abuser, how they got away with no consequences (who reader mentioned seeing sometimes in the city) and later said abuser goes to the agency on behalf their company to investigate missing items.

Stuff like this is really comforting for me so thank you if you do it :D I hope I put in enough detail for you to work with.

DAZAI AND CONSEQUENCES

A/N: baby, I’m so sorry, but this is long asf and I got a lil carried away💀 I’m also sorry it took a bit to get out. I work in a nursery, so I work 12 hours shifts, and this got to me slam in the middle of my first one (out of three in a row). If this isn’t what you wanted, you can send me in another ask :) But I hope you like it

WARNING(s): reader was in a physically abusive relationship in the past, mentions of PTSD, canon-typical violence, mentions of panic attacks, pissed off dazai, reader is a girl

—I'm gonna assume this is like a pt. 2 of this writing, but it can stand alone, too :)

—We all know Dazai is megamind over here. He sees EVERYTHING. Nothing goes unnoticed by him (which you probably find a little annoying, tbh, but oh, well). It's especially annoying when he knows things about you that you don't necessarily want him to know

—HOWEVER, if it's something that you physically and emotionally feel like you cannot talk about, like it brings you distress and discomfort, he's very unlikely to push you about it. Let's be honest, this man's probably never even told you the name of his parents. You don't even know if Dazai Osamu IS his real name, so he knows he hasn't got room to talk

—I feel like if Dazai noticed something about your mannerisms, or the way you act that very obviously speaks to past trauma, he'd ask you about it, like in my previous writing. If you're unable or unwilling to talk about it, he drops it. He SO desperately wants to know, but he cares for you too much to put you in any sort of emotional distress by pushing it

—When you do decide to open up to him, he's all ears. He knows how hard it is to speak about the shadows of your past, and he honestly is just so flattered that you trust him (he can't believe it, lmao. Like, three people in his life truly trust him) enough to tell him about it

—You were sitting on the edge of the bathtub in Osamu's apartment, absently watching him comb through his wet hair. The two of you had showered together, and you couldn't help but notice over the months of your relationship how much he had changed.

Osamu was flighty at first, and very distrustful. He wasn't a fan of placing himself in vulnerable positions. Not just to you, but to anyone. Yet, when you'd gently brought up his lack of self care, and how it made you sad to see the person you loved think so little of themselves, a change happened.

You helped, of course. At first, you reminded him to brush his teeth when he forgot, and then you began combing his hair. You'd point out when it was time to change his bandages, and call him to bed at an acceptable time because you knew he'd just stay up until the early hours of the morning (if he slept at all). Together, you two had even begun cooking meals, and he'd started to fill out a little bit.

Now, he made sure to do all of those things, even if you didn't remind him/cook with him, because he felt better, yes, but also because he could see how happy it made you.

He was still suffering from chronic depression, of course. You knew you couldn't fix that, and were thinking about gently bringing up a therapist to him, but he had gotten so much better. Even his coworkers noticed it.

Osamu dragged a comb through his brown waves, eyes narrowed as he focused intently on it. It meant so much to you. How could he not focus on it?

You knew it, too. He would've never made these changes for himself, but he had begun to trust that you had his best interest at heart. A few weeks ago, he'd even opened up about some of his own traumas surrounding Mori and the Port Mafia, about his best friend, Oda Sakunosuke.

Osamu trusted you.

That was why it felt so wrong to keep your own past from him, because he was finally starting to open up. You feared if you didn't return the favor, he'd wilt again. More so, you'd recently been catching yourself let parts of the story slip. Subconsciously, you wanted so badly to tell him.

"What are you thinking so hard about?" He asked lightly, brown eyes sparkling with so much affection that it had your breath catching. Osamu was watching you from the mirror.

You blinked, realizing you'd been out of it for a moment, lost in thought. In your lap, you fiddled with your fingers. Part of you wanted to shut down as your heart plummeted at the thought of reliving the worst of it...

But the way he looked at you, like you hung the sun and the stars, like he felt such fondness for you that 'I love you' simply didn't cut it...

It was time to tell him.

"Can... Can we talk?" you asked, surprised by the softness of your voice. It was almost ashamed, but you knew you shouldn't feel shame for what had happened to you.

Only, you were so scared he'd feel ashamed of you.

Osamu was a great aim, and he was smart as a whip, and he was oddly strong for his thin figure. He'd never let himself stay in the sort of situation you did. He'd fight back.

You felt so small.

He turned to look at you, leaning back on the bathroom counter. His eyes were gentle and knowing, and you couldn't tell if you were upset that he already knew what this was about, or relieved. "Of course," he said with a little smile, squatting down in front of you and taking your hands in his. "What about?"

You gulped, knowing there was no turning back now. If you told him this, you'd be trusting him with probably the worst part of your life. Even imagining it, the past with him, made you sick to your stomach.

You knew you'd backtrack if you didn't just rip it off like a bandaid.

"I overreact to things sometimes," you whispered, and he squeezed your hands. "I'm sure you've noticed it."

"I wouldn't use the word 'overreact.'"

You chewed on your lips nervously, staring into his eyes. Thankfully, all you saw there was understanding, but it was still so hard. "My ex beat me. For years... Anytime I did... anything, pretty much. It was bad." Your voice cracked as you continued, tears welling in your eyes. "I couldn't see my family... I ended up in the ER a few times. He broke me, Osamu. He had me convinced I'd never trust another man."

You waited with baited breath for his reaction, trying to hold in the tears. Your eyes stung and your breathing was speeding up into gasps, because you hadn't even told your family or closest friends the full extent of it.

Osamu looked oddly calm, but at the sight of your fallen tears, he got up to sit beside you. Wrapping an arm around your shoulders, he pulled you in close, flush against him, and kissed your temple. "Breathe, baby. It's all right now," he whispered, squeezing you close.

You couldn't stop it now, though. What had been building up since you left your ex was being released right here, right now. There was no turning back. Hot tears rolled down your cheeks and clouded your eyesight. Subconsciously, you grabbed his shirt in a tight grip and squeezed until your hand ached.

"He beat the shit out of me, and nothing ever happened," you continued, the anguish in your voice now laced by anger. "He broke my collarbone... my jaw—my ribs and my wrist. He made me feel like an ant, like I was so small, and I still feel that way now, and even after I left him... I'm still suffering, but he gets to go about his life like it was nothing. I couldn't even go to the police—he said he'd kill me," you got out through gasps, squeezing your eyes closed as your vision had started to darken at the edges, anyways.

Osamu's eyes flashed with something you didn't recognize, but all he knew to do was pull you in tighter. He placed a hand on your head and pulled you into his chest, and you certainly weren't trying to resist.

"It's not fair," you added, knowing how childish you sounded. Nothing was ever fair. Here you were, saying all this to a man who had probably done much worse than just break people's bones, complaining about fairness.

You weren't a child. You knew life wasn't fair, but that didn't mean it didn't fucking suck that it wasn't.

"Sometimes, I still see him, you know... In town, I—" You had to stop, otherwise you'd make it worse for yourself.

He held you close, rubbing your back and gently scratching your scalp as he whispered for you to breathe. Osamu knew you were about to land neck deep into a panic attack.

Eventually, he did get you calmed down. He got you to bed, made you a mug of hot chocolate, and read to you for about thirty minutes before you were able to catch your breath, his smooth voice calming you better than any benzo could.

In the end, you two lied down together, your back pressed to his front. The bandaged arm that was wrapped around your waist felt like a safety blanket. You were sure you'd be embarrassed about your outburst tomorrow, but for right now, you simply soaked up the feeling of him wrapped around you so snugly.

"You're not small," he whispered to you, and that was the last thing you remembered before passing out.

—Dazai doesn't seem different to you afterwards, in that he doesn't act differently towards you. You were worried at first that he'd see you differently, that he'd see you as being as weak as you saw yourself, but it was the furthest thing from. He respects the hell out of people who can go through such terrible things, and yet come out so kind, so good

—While he doesn't seem different, inwardly you can bet he's raging. Dazai is PISSED OFF, more than he's been in years. He's made great progress, but let's not forget that Dazai can be a cruel mf. He's got a darkness in him that he doesn't want you to see, but it is definitely there

—He doesn't press you for anymore details, but he can't help himself. He digs. He uses his brilliance to find out who the guy is, who his name is, and any time he feels even a slight bit of guilt at digging into your past life without your knowledge, he reminds himself of the injuries you listed.

—You thought he'd forget the things you admitted during your confession? PLEASE. He needs to know everything about this fucking piece of work. If he has a photo, he might even text it to Chuuya, along with a message "wanted alive," and you best bet Chuuya takes it seriously (even if he hates Dazai, lmao) because just by LOOKING at the photo of this guy, everyone can tell he's an asshole. And you still see this mf sometimes? Man is RAGING

—Dazai stands on business, because seeing you so torn up about it physically hurts him. It makes his heart ache every time he remembers you in that state. He can't fucking stand it, and he has to do something about it

—Your words about it being unfair haunt him in his nightmares. You're right to a degree: the world isn't fair. However, Dazai knows that if it takes him a million years, he's gonna make this shit fair

—Then, what do you know, one day he's at the office and Atsushi comes strolling in with a Manila folder and the piece of shit, himself. There he is, practically served to Dazai on a silver platter

—"This is Tanaka Jiro," Atsushi chirped, missing the way Dazai's eyes widened when he saw the new client. "He's here on behalf of the engineering company that got broken into last night."

Dazai sat up in his chair, staring right at the man who had the gall to make you feel small and weak. His eyes darkened, and then he slowly smiled. It wasn't happy or gentle, or even playful and teasing.

He smiled like Mori smiled.

In that moment, if his coat was black instead of tan, he'd look the picture of his younger, crueler self. He supposed that part of him never went away, always there just at the edge of his subconscious.

He promised Odasaku that he'd push it away, that he'd do good. However, he felt that even Odasaku, his kind friend, would understand the necessity of it now.

Immediately, he jumped out of his chair and made his way over. His hand landed on Atsushi's hair, giving it a playful ruffle. As he looked at him, his eyes softened. "Maa, Atsushi-kun. You work too hard, you know. I'll take this case for you."

Atsushi stared at him with obvious shock, eyes wide and jaw on the floor, because Dazai never, ever volunteered to work. If anything, he complained about it like a child.

"D-Dazai-san?" he breathed, in disbelief. It looked like he thought someone had killed the real Dazai, and was now acting in his place.

"Ah, ah," Dazai chirped, shoving Atsushi away. "Go do normal teenager things. Flirt, make friends," his voice trailed off as his gaze slid to Tanaka, your ex, and the smirk lifted his lips once more, eyes flashing dangerously, "all of that."

"O-Okay," Atsushi mumbled, still in shock. He recovered quickly, smiling brightly at Tanaka. "Dazai-san is a very good detective, Tanaka-san. You're in good hands!" he promised.

Tanaka smiled back, and seeing the bastard have the audacity to smile had Dazai seething internally.

Maybe, he'd take all his teeth, so that he could never smile again.

"Thank you for your help, Nakajima-kun," Tanaka said, nodding.

As Atsushi walked off, Dazai tilted his head to the side, his plan already formed. "Follow me to answer some questions, and then I'll begin investigating right away."

—For Dazai's plan to pay off, he needs to figure out who broke into the company. It wasn't a planned event, and he quickly figured out the guy who did it probably had no connection to the company (probably just a low down thief looking for some quick cash), which made it more difficult. It was the sort of not-really-a-big-deal crime that the agency would usually put on the back burner (the only reason it even came to them was because the thief was figured to be gifted), but Dazai worked tirelessly at it

—He interviewed people, looked over documents from dusk to dawn, and just generally put in a hell of a lot more effort for this than he usually would for some petty theft

—You probably even notice how hard he's working. There are bags under his eyes and he's back to not taking very good care of himself, but when you ask about it (obviously worried), he just smiles gently, kisses you, and assures you that he'll have this case figured out in no time. He doesn't want you anywhere near this

—When he does find the criminal, their interaction goes something like this:

"I know you did it. Give me the shit you stole, and I'll let you off."

"Bet."

—He has this part meticulously planned out. While your ex is in work one day, Dazai plants the stolen items in his car, and then calls the company security

—He watches with glee as he's dragged from the building, kicking and screaming like an enraged toddler, and fired on the spot. Your ex's livelihood? Gone. Phase one? Completed

—Dazai sat at his desk with a satisfied smile, chin resting in the palm of his hand as he counted down in his head. Everyone else is entrenched in their own workloads, barely even noticing the malicious sparkle in Dazai's eyes.

Soon enough, the door bursted open, and your ex came running in. His eyes were rimmed red, like he'd been crying, and he was flushed all over from rage. "What the fuck did you do?!" he demanded, pointing at Dazai.

"What do you mean?" he asked innocently, standing and walking over with the same smile.

Everyone else stopped what they were doing, watching the scene with widened, or curious eyes. This sort of thing didn't happen much at the ADA.

"You know what the fuck I mean, you piece of shit!" Tanaka screamed in his face, and it only made Dazai's smile widen. When he saw this, he hissed, "I think we should take this outside."

"Hold on," demanded Atsushi, immediately standing from his desk, along with Kyouka and Kenji.

Dazai didn't even look at them, staring into Tanaka's eyes, as he held up his hand to stop them in their tracks. The smile melted off his face, replaced by a cold glare and lips pressed into a line. "I'm fine," he assured them, light tone not at all matching his expression.

"But—Dazai-san," Atsushi mumbled, eyes flickering between Dazai and Tanaka.

"You guys are so dramatic," Ranpo said with a roll of his eyes, absently watching the scene from his desk, which his feet were propped up on. "Dazai-kun said it's fine."

Dazai tilted his head mockingly at Tanaka. "Are we going outside?"

That, they did. Tanaka stomped down the stairs and through the cafe, out onto the crowded streets of Yokohama.

Dazai followed, of course, even as Tanaka led him towards a darkened alleyway, obstructed from the view of the general public. Inwardly, he thought that this guy was making it way too easy. He was an idiot.

Tanaka stared at the dead end wall for a minute, and then let out a cry of rage, turned on his heel, and began running at Dazai with his arm pulled back and his hand clenched into a fist.

Nonplussed, Dazai side stepped it, loving every minute of the surprise on Tanaka's face. "What? Did you think fighting someone your own size would be as easy as beating on a girl?"

That had Tanaka freezing immediately. "What the fuck are you talking about?" he growled out, and Dazai almost laughed at his attempt to be menacing and scary.

Right on time, a black SUV pulled up. He might not be in the mafia anymore, but Dazai had plenty of contacts from it. When masked men jumped out of the vehicle, surrounding Tanaka, Dazai smirked at the look of pure terror on his face.

"Don't play dumb. You aren't handsome enough to pull it off," he said lightly, and then laughed as Tanaka tried to call for help.

He was knocked out before he could.

When he awoke, eyes all bleary and with a searing headache, he was in a big, dark warehouse. It was old and beaten, with leaking pipes and creaky doors. He was sitting in a chair, hands cuffed together behind him.

Tanaka screamed.

Dazai walked in front of him casually, hands tucked into his pockets. "Scream all you like. No one will hear you," he said.

"Why are you doing this?! Who even are you, man?!" Tanaka cried, the tears falling down his cheeks. He looked so pathetic.

Dazai loved every second of it.

He hummed, walking forward until he was right in front of the bastard, footsteps echoing around the wide open space. Grabbing a fist full of Tanaka's hair, Dazai yanked his head back, so he'd be looking up at him, so he could see the icy glare, the hate.

"You hurt someone I'm very fond," Dazai said softly, tilting his head. "You hurt someone I love... And ever since she told me, I've been thinking of ways to make it fair for her. It's all I've thought about.

"She's not like you and me, you know. She's kind. She's sweet. She's good. You," Dazai scoffed, "you're pathetic. A man who has to beat defenseless women to feel good about himself is no man." When he leaned in close, so his lips were inching his ear, Tanaka whimpered. "And me? I'm the worst of the worst."

Now, all Tanaka could do was cry and plead, but Dazai wasn't having any of it. He let go of Tanaka's hair, letting his head fall limply, enjoying the sounds of his uttered prayer. "No god can save you from me," he told him in a pleasant voice, taking a few steps back.

Dazai crossed his arms and hummed thoughtfully, making a show of it. "I thought I could just kill you, but that's not really fair, is it? She has to live with what you did to her, and I think the fairest thing would be if you have to live with what I do to you."

"You're fucking psychotic," Tanaka whispered.

"Ah," Dazai agreed easily. "I've always been more of a proponent of revenge, rather than justice. See, she probably just wishes you'd have gone to jail." His casual tone melted into something deeper and smoother, deadlier. "Whereas I'm more of an eye-for-an-eye kind of guy, so..." He pursed his lips in faux thought, looking up at the ceiling. "What was it she said?"

Tanaka stared at him in horror, especially when Dazai stared him straight in the eye and smiled.

"Right. Broken jaw, collarbone, ribs, and wrist!" He said, snapping as if he'd just remembered it, as if your broken confession hadn't been causing him physical pain this whole time. "I have plenty of history with breaking jaws, so I guess we'll start there. What do you say?" he asked brightly.

Tanaka screamed again, the sound becoming a cry of raw terror as Dazai began walking towards him.

An hour later, Tanaka still sat in his chair, still handcuffed, but he was bloody and bruised. Every injury he inflicted on you, Dazai returned tenfold. He was delirious with pain, and in and out of consciousness.

Dazai grunted when he looked down at his hands, seeing the blood that absolutely coated his knuckles and bandages. He'd have to clean that up before coming home to you.

"You up?" he asked, walking closer.

When Tanaka immediately flinched back, Dazai hummed with satisfaction.

"I won't kill you," he said, as if he was doing Tanaka some great favor. "You're going to go about your pathetic, little life with no job, and every time you look at yourself, you'll remember this pain. You'll finally feel at least a fraction of what she did."

Tanaka just whimpered. It was hard to speak with a shattered jaw.

Dazai smiled at the sound, crouching down in front of him to force Tanaka to look him in the face, in the eyes. "The men who kidnapped you are going to drop you off at a hospital. They'll ask what happened, and you'll be tempted to tell them. So," his tone lowered into a hiss, breaking the somewhat casual facade now that Tanaka had physically felt his anger. There was no point hiding it now. "I'll tell you the same thing you told her at her lowest point, that defenseless girl who didn't stand a chance against a piece of shit like you: tell the cops, and I'll kill you."

Dazai stood, jaw clenched. "And I'll be watching you from now. Step a toe out of line, hurt anyone else, and I'll bring you right back here. Only, that time, I'll probably just go ahead and do the whole world a favor, and shoot you in the head.

"I bet no one would miss you at all, because that's how small you are."

With that, he walked away.

—I know that was pretty brutal, but to be honest, y'all, Dazai was a whole ass executive in the PM (the 'demon prodigy'). He tries to hold it back in the ADA (per his promise to Oda and his care for the others), but let's not kid ourselves. The guy does have the capacity to do some really evil shit, and I think if he'd do it for anyone, it'd be you

—It just pisses him off so much to feel helpless, especially when it comes to you. He couldn't save you, then, but he can damn well set the record straight. In his head, he had to do something. At the very least, he had to stop this guy from doing it again

—You were eating dinner with him that night, and hadn't really noticed anything out of the ordinary. Both of you were just sitting at the counter, digging into some instant ramen, and you probably wouldn't have noticed if you didn't pay such close attention to him.

There was a speck of blood on the collar of his coat.

"Hey, what happened?" you asked, concern pinching together your brows. Worried eyes scanned him over, looking for any sign of injury. You found none, though.

"It's not mine," Osamu answered, and then took a bite of his food, looking pointedly away from you.

You pursed your lips, tapping his wrist. "We don't lie to each other, O-sa-mu."

He couldn't help but smile a little at your tone. His eyes finally met your's, and he tapped your wrist back. "It's not a lie. It's-not-mine."

"It's a lie by omission if you don't tell me what happened."

You were terribly confused when his eyes softened, and then he gently pressed his hand to the back of your head, bringing you closer until your foreheads were touching. "What's wrong?" you mumbled.

"I can't tell you everything," he admitted slowly, eyes shut. He looked so peaceful, like he was where he was meant to me. Honestly, when Osamu was all soft like this, it took your breath away.

"Then tell me part of it," you breathed, reaching up to cup your hand around his neck. "Did something happen?"

He stayed quiet for a long time, though you didn't know how long. It was like he was contemplating something serious, and that both confused and worried you.

When he finally did speak, it felt like time froze. Everything froze.

"I made it fair. He won't ever hurt anyone else again. I made sure of it."

The words were a whispered promise, and you automatically knew what he was talking about, of course. He was mysterious, and he had been distrustful at first, and you knew he had once been in the mafia, but he was also the person you trusted the most in the world.

Osamu always went above and beyond for you, and you didn't feel as safe anywhere as you did with him.

You believed him wholeheartedly, and found that this admission was enough. You didn't need to know the details, and probably wouldn't want to.

The relief you felt was enough.

"Thank you, Osamu."

—Look, he's so bby girl with you, but he don't play when it comes to your abusive ex💀

—Just... just honestly don't fuck with the people this guy loves, okay? He's gd diabolical, and he can be so cruel to those that hurt who he cares about, so... Just watch it if you're tryna show out to his girl, okay, lmao

[pix-writes]

for requests. . . how about an x reader where reader pegs Ford 👀? Is he open to the idea?

Oh I think we can arrange such a thing! >:) Hope you enjoy!

Ford x F!Reader | In Theory and in Practice

Notes/tags: Ford and reader have some limited past experiences, but tried to keep it a little vague. That said though, I do allude to them to be both bi/had experiences with someone of the same sex as them. Anal smut, some Dom/sub dynamics and switching.

NSFW 18+ below cut, so MDNI!

The subject comes up from you, the conversations you get into around pleasure with Ford often end up in the logical sphere, starting lightly before anything more heated can arise. It was something to enjoy about your partnership, comforting in the pragmatic and somewhat direct, open way in which Ford spoke about such things. It reduced both of your anxieties and any reservations that you had about bringing up anything that you wanted.

Your partner still got flustered, however, and you were a little tentative in how you brought up this next subject.

"I never got to try it in any of my other relationships with men, some seem to think it's not important to involve the prostate in sex."

"The prostate when stimulated gives men pleasure, so I see no reason why it should not be, um, paid attention to. I certainly haven't had any reservations when I have been on my own, in the past."

"And with others?"

Ford did blush a little at this. "In relationships with other men, yes. And with you."

"Yes, but technically it was you who was doing it, Ford." You paused to take a breath before asking your next question. "What if I did?"

Your partner looked stunned, rubbing the back of his neck. "I guess I'd never thought about it before?"

You ask him if he ever heard of pegging, he hadn't and you did your best to lay out what it meant, slowly, despite your eagerness at Ford's receptiveness, so far.

"But how would you...?" Was one of his questions and you couldn't help but giggle. You knew he didn't like to be on the backfoot or feel that you were laughing at his expense, but how could you not help but be amused by his perplexed expression, his innocence when it came to the gaps in his knowledge?

"Oh Ford, have I not told you yet about the wonders of silicone?!"

Ford didn't take long to mull over the decision on whether he would like to explore it, in fact, you knew him to be as eager as you were, despite never knowing about pegging before bringing it up, though none of this should have surprised you, you thought, looking back on it. Ford wasn't a stereotypical man and did not have many qualms when it came to experiencing new things. All the more reason you were excited! Though you knew that he was going to take his time with researching it, but you could wait.

As the days passed he added his small questions about what you had planned, one here, one there. He would hum and nod and maybe ask for more clarification or an adjustment. In fact, he inisted that you practice putting the strap on you ordered, once it came.

"Can I see it?"

"I think the straps are too tight, how do I-?" You were glancing around for the instructions, to see Ford already had them to hand.

"Here, like this." He gently tugs on the threads and it loosens, relieving the indents that were already appearing over your skin.

Self consciousness ate at you, unable to hide that you felt so clueless you let out a nervous laugh. "I'm sorry! This is... it just feels silly!"

"It is a little bizarre!" Ford joins in with your laughter. "But preparation makes all the difference, my dear."

Once it came to the moment, however, Ford had forgotten what a disparity there was between theory and practice! It had been so long since he had ever been in this position (metaphorically, rather than physically in the same position... but, you get the idea!) and he was starting to remember how vulnerable it can feel...

You've been working him open steadily, using plenty of lube that you kept beside you, Ford encouraging you and helping direct your movements to what he found most pleasurable, voice strained already.

He could feel that pressure and heat from how you slide in, one of your hands coming to soothingly rub at his back, reminding him to relax into it, to adjust. When he gives you encouragement to move, he can feel your form pressing into his. Your hold on him was so gentle, the tenderness made him feel like he was adrift.

He cried out as you set a firmer pace and you stilled for a moment.

"Ford?"

He groaned. "Keep... keep going, baby."

Ford reaches round to find your hand and you let him intertwine your fingers together, placing your hand further forward so the hold would be comfortable.

"You're doing so well. You know that?" You placed kisses over his shoulder before resuming your steady pace. " So good for me, Ford."

The toy that you had gotten was one that had an end that sat just inside your entrance, the pressure of it working you up. Arousal pooling in your belly as you thrust your hips into him.

He looked so beautiful underneath you, his back arched. God, he was a sight to behold. And so you told him, words spoken as you caught your breath. Knowing the words were affecting him from experience if not from the way his breathing changed, those little noises he made that you so desperately wanted to hear, the ones that went straight to your core.

You were taking your time though and Ford began to rock back into your touch, impatient.

Ford whined your name, turning his head, pupils blown wide. "Don't hold back."

It was somewhat rare that he ever got into an impatient mood, the man was unflappable most of the time. A wicked smile started to spread across your face as you tapped at his side, getting to move upwards, into more of a sitting position before grabbing a fistful of his hair, pulling him back into your chest, an arm coming to rest across his broad chest as he squirmed.

"What was that, hm?"

"Ah, please! Please, I want you to touch me, please."

"So polite." You said teasingly.

Adjusting your grip on his hair your pace became firmer, hand roaming down his chest to touch his achingly hard cock.

"That's it." Ford's moans were rising into a delicious background orchestra and you prided yourself on the knowledge that you had worked him up so much.

"W-wait! I want to see you when I- want to touch you, please?" His voice wavered, unsure of his own wants when he was so close to the edge.

"This is about you, Ford." You considered for a moment. "But you can turn around, if you wish."

It was a more awkward shuffle compared to the last, but the break in the tension didn't last long; the heat rising to your face as you saw how wrecked Ford looked, hair stuck up at different angles. Legs rising to wrap around you, the muscles there flexing against your hips. You wondered what you must've looked like to him in such a position, when the roles were reversed. Was this why he liked it?

Ford was practically melting into the mattress by the time your hands were on him again. That first rate brain of his switching off thoughts and transferring to focus on pleasure. He pulled you in so that he could kiss you, in between your praises and moans.

"So good for me, darling."

"Such a good boy."

"Fuck, cum for me!"

Eyes focused on your angelic face above him, he came. His release coating his stomach, and your hand, still firm on his cock as he rode his orgasm out with a shuddering moan.

Pulling out, you collapsed onto the bed, exhausted, letting Ford take over. First wiping you both down, then releasing you from the strap, soon replacing the end of the toy with his fingers, his mouth grazing your breast hungrily as he laid beside you.

He cursed under his breath. "Oh, sweetheart, you're soaked."

Hot kisses trailed across your skin. "You don't have to. T-this, mmn, was about you."

He tutted, a glint entering his eyes. "But I thought I was your good boy. Don't you want me to make you cum? You've gotten so wet for me."

You whimpered, answering with a nod as you carded hand through his hair, gently, this time.

[starlingstalk]

More art to ‚my Sputnik sweetheart‘ by wetherday lyrics!! I need to heal myself from all the Kai mischaracterisation.

Like : „Kai should‘ve been the green ninja.“, „Kai could‘ve ended up like Morro.“, „Kai is selfish/aggressive.“, „Evil Kai makes sm sense.“

I‘m on Twitter too much so now ur stuck with me yapping about how much I love Kai my bad

I think that a lot of people who have these opinions speak in retrospective. They remember Kai being the fire-guy with the cool sword, the seemingly stereotypical main character that ended up losing his status as „the main guy“ to Lloyd. And even if they rewatch the show, it remains as some kind of unchanged impression that just reinstates their superficial opinion of Kai as a character.

It‘s not thinking about the narrative in of itself but rather rooting for a character individually and from a personal perspective, and hence seeing the entire rest of the cast as well as the story itself relative to what they want for the specific character.

About him being selfish or aggressive; I remember thinking something close to that when I first watched ninjago. That was all the way back in 2011 tho and I was 6.

Kai is put into a situation of pressure without any clarity in the pilots. He is aware that Wu is his only chance to get Nya back and feels powerless. His mere intention in anything is protecting/saving his sister. He associates the feeling of being powerless to loss, to being unable to bear his responsibility, to having let both the people around him as well as himself down. Kai ’inconveniences' (as he prob sees it) others by asking/accepting help only when he is entirely convinced of his inability to do it on his own.

He finds comfort in the security of knowing he has himself to rely on; someone that cannot physically leave him and hence he reverts back to his obsessive need for power that feeds from the unpredictability in which his parents left him and his sister.

Everyone can leave him at any moment; his sister is the one person he can trust, the one person that is in the same situation as him. And through having to fend for him and his sister for years, he tries reducing his emotions to those which are useful to their survival and his state of mind.

He finds it easy to channel his emotions into obsessively pursuing something, because it does not reveal anything off him unless anyone makes an effort to understand him. It doesn‘t make him vulnerable.

His strive to be the green ninja is because the need for control is instilled deeply in him.

What I think makes him so unique, yet so prone to be misunderstood, is that his insecurities are disguised and fit to be both a flaw as well as a perk. Kai is for the most part self aware of there being a secondary reason for his goals and is highly sensitive to those around him.

I think the intention is where people directly comparing him to Morro get it wrong. They are paralleled in a way that directly sets Kai apart from Morro. Kai‘s desire to be powerful is not inherently part of his personality but much rather a projection of his fears. He desperately devotes himself to the well being of his loved ones. Possession, to me, reinstates the point that Kai can‘t help to be selfless, good, someone who disregards himself to help his friends. He is not someone who becomes resentful like Morro. And he will look for solutions elsewhere. Because his core motivation lies in the other and not himself.

I‘m gonna add to this probably. I‘m too tired to keep writing ahhhh

[melonsodypop]

please, tachibana [yak 0] content please 🙏

please, him and ryuji, im dying

so hungry

tetsu tachibana sfw and nsfw headcanons !

◍ pairing - tetsu tachibana/afab!reader

◍ tags - nsfw, minors dni, no gendered terms or pronouns used, description of prosthetic-related pain, soft dom!tachibana, switch!tachibana, mention of shibari, praise, he'd be such a romantic i cry

◍ a/n - oh my GODD i love tachibana i jumped at the chance to talk about him when i saw this ask!!! i will do ryuji headcanons in a seperate post, so keep ur eyes peeled for that heheh

◍ SFW ◍

ohh my goodness tachibana is probably the most devoted, soft lover in the world

his love isn't loud or possessive - it's soothing, the way he whispers honeyed words to you and presses light kisses to your cheeks

he regards you much like his touch will shatter you, his eyes gleaming with affection every time he gazes upon you, even if there's not a huge grin on his face

treats you to everything and anything you could ever want, going so far to just letting you have a credit card with his name on it - his pockets are deep, and what better to spend all this excess on than on you?

truthfully, your love might throw him for a loop at first - he's so used to using and being used that the fact that you're with him for nothing in return but his affection gives him pause

he eventually relaxes into your relationship after long enough, his paranoid heart soothed that you truly just loved him for him and not for anything he could give you

(not that that stops him from giving you everything he has, anyways)

even if he's unable to keep an eye on you personally, he usually sends some employee of his firm to make sure you're safe if you ever go out on your own

he won't show how much he frets while you're gone, but the relief he feels every time you come back to him unharmed and happy is so strong that he can physically feel a weight lift off his shoulders

loves to kiss your knuckles, the back of your hand, and up your arm

always insists on having you walk on his left, so he can intertwine his actual fingers with yours

he tends to avoid touching you with his prosthetic hand, worried that the cold metal will make you flinch

oh well, he thinks - he'd much rather touch you with the hand that can feel the warm of your body and the gentle kisses of your lips

even if he fakes nonchalance about it, make sure you take his prosthetic hand and kiss it too - he'll nearly weep that you're not ashamed or afraid of any part of him

you even start to notice when he's hurting, even if he doesn't show it on his face

he feels embarrassed at first when you fret over him, insisting that he'll be alright and that he's lived with the pain for this long - but he can't deny that being taken care of by you feels nice

you eventually become the only person he feels vulnerable enough around to start to grimace again

will tell you how lucky he is to have you and how beautiful you are at any given second

"being in your arms feels like a dream, my love," he'll whisper softly in your ear as he holds you close, resting his head against yours as he just basks in your warmth, "but it's one i'd be happy to never wake up from"

◍ NSFW ◍

tachibana tends to take a more passive role during sex due to his fragile health

he's made peace with his failing body and the limitations it gives him, but he can't deny that it sours him a little knowing he can't put more effort into making love to you

despite that, he will still naturally take control, softly whispering instructions and praises in your ear while you're in his lap

loves seeing you fall apart on his fingers or his tongue

actually, just likes seeing you fall apart in general - somehow, seeing you melt and moan under his touch awakens that sadistic side of himself that he thought he buried a long time ago

"you look so beautiful like this, darling, absolutely soaking my hand - you want to cum, don't you? go ahead"

he's got a pretty cock to match his pretty face - it's not a monster to behold or anything, but his skin is smooth with a few blue veins running down its length

it's always flushed such a pretty pink by the time you get to it, his tip weeping a steady stream of pre

he keeps himself pretty well-groomed down there - he doesn't grow a lot of body hair to begin with, so what's left usually gets shaven off

despite naturally taking the lead when you're in bed, he won't protest if you decide that you're going to be the one to take charge

(and let's be real, if you have your hands or mouth on his cock, he's probably going to fall apart so much that he won't be domming anyways)

has the prettiest, cutest moans that come out in choked gasps

if he can muster the breath, he won't stop babbling about how much he loves you and how radiant you are as you're fucking yourself on his lap

"d-doing so good, my love - look so pretty on my lap, i won't be able to hold on for much longer"

looks absolutely wrecked by the time he cums - his neatly styled hair falling over his face, his entire body flushed and barely able to keep his eyes open

one round and one orgasm is just about enough to make this poor boy want to pass out - but he'll still make sure he gathers you up in his arms, press a loving kiss to your forehead and tell you how good you did

as a bonus, a kink i think he'd be into is probably shibari - he doesn't really strike me as the kind of guy who necessarily gets off on you being helpless, he just thinks that the intricate tying and knots of the red rope against your skin is absolutely breathtaking :)