#once you get past the 'this is terrible hands are terrible I hate this I hate myself' phase of learning how to draw them

[dirtypuzzle]

well, i hate to be the one to say it, but they burnt their political capital on something that was both incredibly necessary and unbelievably insufficient, further entangling american healthcare into unprecedented levels of tomfuckery. if you actually go digging into the myriad ways our healthcare systems is fucked, i don’t even think M4A would fix it without the kind of backend policywork that a) makes terrible campaign copy, and b) is really fucking hard to get right.

like. M4A is the end goal, in that i think single payer is the most likely thing to work once we get there, but getting from A to B isn’t just difficult, it’s fighting against all tenets of systemic and bureaucratic inertia in ways few people are really appreciating. if we were to slap M4A on this steaming pile of horseshit, it would probably fail hard, and then we’d be even farther away from decent healthcare.

the ACA is very similar. it did some of the backend work that nobody ever wants to explain or talk about, and no matter how good a tourniquet, those aren’t meant to stay on longterm. the ACA’s requirement that insurers spend 80-85% of every dollar on medical payouts, for example, while intended nobly, ended up incentivizing providers to jack up prices and insurers to allow it bc 15% of a big number is still more than 15% of a smaller number. most providers, especially hospitals, don’t even know what their prices should be, that’s how skewed it is, and they have no incentive to find out. hospital costs jumped 159% between 1997 and 2012. i don’t have the numbers off hand, but i’m sure even post-COVID costs have fucking skyrocketed.

the fight i’ve been fighting, and mostly losing, is convincing people to see both the macro and the micro, the newtonian politics and the quantum. you’re fighting on two fronts, and as with any war on two fronts, you can lose by losing either, but you can’t win without winning both.

you’re fighting a global wave of fascism, which is aided by wealth inequality not seen in centuries but whose bigotry becomes self-sustaining and which cannot be only solved by improving material conditions. you’re also fighting the corruptive force of late-stage capitalism, whose biggest players have incentive to fuel right-wing extremism and whose influence taints most aspects of society’s mainstay institutions.

on one side, the rhetorical fight to convince the populace to support you while protecting vulnerable populations and containing the spread of fascism. on the other, unknotting decades of bad policy, republican sabotage, and bad law—what to keep, what to throw out, and what to rewrite to be more tailored or targeted.

you have to be right, and you have to sell it; you have to be looking at the big picture, but that can’t come at the cost of day-to-day governance and politicking.

which is mostly moot now anyway bc trump won. we’re gonna be in survival mode for the forseeable future. but let it be said that leftists fight on one front, and liberals fight the other, but they rarely coordinate; both have sabotaged efforts to coordinate in the past, the macron situation in france being the most recent. of course, liberals in power aren’t the same as the liberal populace, but i think i’ve gotten off-topic enough on this post already.

I have more than one person in the notes of my post saying they did not in fact know that the ACA stopped insurance companies from being able to deny coverage for a pre-existing condition in case you were wondering where we're at. People don't know the ACA and Obamacare are the same thing, they don't know it's why they have healthcare, they don't even know what it does. How do you even deal with that?

[3rdsday]

Broken Vows and Mended Trust

Sonic 3 spoilers ahead!

Summary: Things are settling after the events of the third movie, and Sonic and Knuckles need to have a conversation about Sonic's broken vow.

Note: Hi I did NOT expect to write this tonight it just had to come out and I did 0 editing on this whatsoever but here it is. I will be going to bed immediately after posting this <3

Read on AO3 here

---

Sonic clutched his left arm in his right hand, rubbing it. He wouldn't meet Knuckles' eyes, instead studying the forest floor.

It had been a few days, and everything had finally started to settle following the... Eclipse Canon incident. Tom had finally woken up and would be okay, so a layer of tension that had been blanketing the rest of the Wachowskis had fallen away.

For Sonic, its place was taken by Knuckles' request that they have a discussion.

Knuckles was typically an echidna of few words. He preferred to make his point made physically when possible. So a request for a discussion, especially a serious one, immediately put Sonic on edge.

He was certain he knew what it would be about, and it only took a few words from Knuckles to prove that his intuition was correct.

"You broke our vow."

Sonic knew it was coming, but he still flinched. It wasn't even Knuckles' tone that caused it; the words weren't harsh or accusatory. Rather, the sentence was spoken simply, a pure fact.

Sonic just hated that it was true.

"I know, Knuckles, I am so sorry-"

"Wait!" Knuckles cut him off, raising a gloved hand. "I am not finished."

Sonic's mouth snapped shut, his stomach churning as he awaited Knuckles' next words.

"After our fight against Robotnik last year, I chose to trust you and the fox to share the duty of protecting the Emerald. Yet you were willing to compromise the Emerald's safety for the sake of seeking revenge."

"I was wrong," Sonic couldn't help but say. He wanted to wait until Knuckles was finished, but he couldn't help it. He had to know how terrible Sonic felt. How much he regretted it.

"You broke my trust, and in doing so, you could have risked the safety of the entire planet."

Sonic's shoulders hunched in as he instinctively tried to make himself smaller. All the guilt he was already feeling was increasing tenfold with each word out of Knuckles' mouth.

"Yet, I chose not to stop you."

...That made Sonic pause, blinking as he took in the words. "You didn't," he said slowly. "You let me go. ...Why? You could have won that fight."

Knuckles sighed and sat down on a felled tree trunk, motioning for Sonic to join him. After a moment that felt like it was teetering on the point of something, waiting to fall to one side or the other, Sonic joined him.

The view from their perch was beautiful. They were on a cliffside, overlooking Green Hills below.

"You might have broken our vow, but I still decided to trust you."

"I don't get it," Sonic insisted. "I betrayed you. Why would you still trust me after that?"

Knuckles turned his head to look at Sonic, who was still not meeting his eyes. "Because you're my friend, and my brother," he explained, like it was the simplest thing in the world.

Family was a concept that took Knuckles a little bit to truly understand, having lost his so young. It wasn't something that came naturally to Sonic or Tails either, both of them having been alone from an early age as well. But over the past year, the three of them had settled comfortably into their newfound roles as brothers. Sonic reveled in it, taking great joy and delight in his family. Tails was a little more tentative about it, hesitant to open himself up to familial affection when it had burned him in the past, but he had become a delightful little ball of chaos once he fell into his place in their dynamic.

Knuckles, though, once the concept had clicked in his mind, had taken up his role of eldest brother with an unrivaled enthusiasm.

Being Sonic and Tails' older brother was as important to Knuckles as guarding the Master Emerald was. Keeping his younger brothers safe and happy was a job he treated with the utmost importance, even if he was willing to tease and annoy them as he did so.

Sonic had forgotten that, somehow.

"I didn't know what would happen if you took the Emerald," Knuckles continued, not acknowledging the way Sonic finally met his gaze, or the way his eyes shone in a misty way. "I feared it would lead to catastrophe. But I knew what fighting you would lead to: both of us hurt. And I never want to hurt you.

"So I decided to trust you. Trust that, if nothing else, you could keep yourself safe while you took the Emerald long enough for Tails and I to back you up. And trust that you'd realize what a mistake you were making."

Sonic swallowed hard, fighting the lump in his throat. "I don't deserve that trust from you."

Knuckles hummed. "Maybe not. And I am still hurt by you violating our oath." He placed a hand on Sonic's shoulder with a gentleness not usually associated with the echidna. "But even if it takes some time for you to regain my full trust, I still forgive you."

Knuckles' eyes were filled with such intense genuineness that Sonic couldn't bear to look at it anymore. He turned his head away, staring out into the distance again as he shrugged Knuckles' hand off his shoulder, letting it fall away. A moment, then another, passed before he spoke again. "How can you forgive me so easily?" he asked, voice wavering.

"You forgave me for siding with Robotnik, did you not?"

Sonic let out a small chuckle that he didn't fully feel. "Yeah, I did."

"We all make mistakes, hedgehog," Knuckles insisted, "You regret yours. That's all I need to know."

Silence fell over the duo. Birdsong filled the mid-afternoon air. A chilly breeze, heralding the approach of winter, cut through the trees, although it was not quite harsh enough to be felt through the thick fur of the brothers. Despite the chirping and chittering of the small forest creatures, a calm silence seemed to settle over the scene in the woods. For just a moment, time was suspended, as two young boys, who normally stopped for nothing, took time to sit in the world around them.

But the spell did not last forever. Sonic found the courage to speak again, finally trusting that his voice would stay steady when he did.

"You shouldn't trust me with the Master Emerald again." Despite his efforts, his voice still came out small and hesitant.

Knuckles frowned, although Sonic wasn't looking to see it. "Why not?"

"I've proven that I can't be trusted to resist the temptation to use it," Sonic explained. It felt like he was stabbing himself in the chest at the admittance, but he knew it was true. "You should keep it safe from me, hide it somewhere secure. More secure than Wade."

Knuckles hummed again, taking a second to consider Sonic's plea before shaking his head. "No, I don't think I should."

"What do you mean? If I hadn't-"

"If you hadn't used the Emerald, you wouldn't have been able to share that power with Shadow. And if you hadn't done that, Shadow wouldn't have been able to help save Earth. Therefore, you taking the Emerald was the best possible outcome."

Sonic's head snapped to the side quickly to let him look at Knuckles. He didn't make any attempt to hide the surprise on his face.

"I- what- but-"

"Maybe you took the Emerald for the wrong reasons, but it worked out the way it needed to in the end. So I am glad that I trusted you," Knuckles said, giving Sonic a small smile.

"But- but it all could have gone so wrong!"

"But did it?"

"I- well, no, but-"

"Then there's no reason to worry about it, is there?"

Sonic's mouth hung open as he stammered a bit more, trying to find the words to counter Knuckles. When he couldn't form a reasonable argument, he sighed and let himself slump over slightly.

"I still don't think I should be allowed to consider myself a 'guardian' anymore," he muttered, bitterness leaking into his tone.

"What?" Knuckles exclaimed, a small bit of outrage entering his tone for the first time during the discussion. "You would abandon your duties?"

"I already broke the oath. I don't deserve to have them as my 'duties' anymore."

"Sonic," Knuckles said seriously, intensely. "There is no one else in all the worlds that I would rather have help me guard the Emerald than you and Tails. Your mistake does not change that."

"But how do you know you can trust me?!" Sonic insisted, feeling almost hysterical. He had gone into this conversation expecting Knuckles' anger and hurt, but instead he was insisting that Sonic still share the duties of guardian? How could that bethe case?"

"I don't need to know for certain. I just know that trusting you has never failed me yet, even if there has been some rough parts to get through."

Sonic's eyes darted between Knuckles', searching for any hint of a lack of sincerity or the trust he claimed to have. When he found nothing but the unwavering loyalty he'd come to know from Knuckles, he hung his head.

"I don't deserve your trust."

"Then do better. Work harder to earn it." Knuckles returned his hand to Sonic's shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Fight to be better than you were yesterday. I know you can."

Sonic leaned into Knuckles' touch until he was essentially slumped against him. Knuckles wrapped his arm around Sonic's shoulders, careful not to get pricked on his sharp quills.

The two of them remained there for what might have been two minutes or two hours, pressed together in their half-side hug.

If a few tears slipped down Sonic's cheeks, nobody had to know.

Eventually, Knuckles pulled away and stood up from the tree trunk, stretching dramatically. "I don't know about you, hedgehog, but I'm ready to eat. Race back to the House of Wachowski?"

Sonic stood up to join him, giving a small but appreciative smile as he tried to fall back into his usual energy. He didn't quite make it all the way, but he was closer than he'd been in days. "Oh, you're on. Don't get too sad when you lose."

"Only if you don't get too humiliated when you are utterly defeated!"

With those words, the brothers disappeared into bright streaks of color, speeding off towards a better, trusting future, and leaving the weight of their emotional talk behind.

[canisalbus]

Also the way you draw hands, like they are SO expressive

.

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

REDAMANCY. 18+

pairing. logan howlett x fem!reader word count. 3915 summary. you often worry you can never keep up with your husband's continuous acts of love and care, your attempts always seeming to come up short. logan catches on and shows you that there’s nothing for you to prove. warnings. 18+ only!! reader has a moment of inadequacy at the beginning, logan being attentive<3 quick description of thigh riding but it's not proper, titty kissing, fingering, cum eating? (licks his fingers) pinv sex. angst start, fluff middle, smut ending. mdni a/n. #needthat

Feelings of inadequacy seem to follow you like a stray dog. The constant, repetitive thought that what you do or say or think or feel may never be enough. But it was silly really, to be afraid of the contents of your own mind, especially when you had no reason to feel that way.

You thought these feelings were controlled, contained even. But as you anxiously twist your wedding ring upon your left finger, you can’t help but slip into that prior mindset you believed to be packed away. You beside the stove, mindlessly watching the simmering pot of tonight's dinner, staring at the vegetables bubble around in the sauce. 

It was Logan’s favourite, and it was a token of your appreciation for yet another grand gesture of his love towards you – the thanks a slither of what he does for you on the daily. But as you watch over the chicken pie filling in the saucepan, you can’t help but notice something missing, something that’s supposed to be there but isn’t. 

And when you blink from your fixed, hazed stare, you see exactly what you need on the countertop. The chopped up pieces of bacon on the board —his favourite part— sitting there like it’s mocking you, telling you that you’re terrible for forgetting it. And it’s not like you can add it now, it would be horrible and ruin it completely. 

All you can do now is move on, move past it. Though now it feels like you can do anything but. The bacon a reminder of your apparent failures, inadequacies. It was silly to be caught up on missing meat, but it wasn’t just about that – it was like it was even more proof that you were out of your depth with Logan. That forgetting the bacon somehow made you a horrible, horrible person.

You stare at the board for a moment, trying so desperately hard not to let it get to you and then you see Logan walk past the window – a couple fresh chopped logs of wood under one arm, an axe and a bunch of wildflowers in the hand of his other. And somehow the sight made you feel nothing short of awful. His thought and care once again overshadowing your attempts.

You quickly wipe under your eyes, an act of precaution to make sure nothing had seeped from you while you beat yourself up over something so tiny. You follow the sound of the front door opening, the scuffling of his boots following shortly after as he places down the pieces of timber. 

“Smells fuckin’ good,” he compliments, the warm, homely smell hitting at his nose immediately. 

He walks over to you, right, flower-held hand tucked from your view as he moves to stand behind, free arm reaching for your waist the second he’s close enough. 

“I got’ya somethin’,” he whispers behind you, punctuating his sentence with a kiss under your ear – his neck peering round and over your shoulder. 

You turn into him, your back against the edge of the counter to see what you already knew to be in his hand. He pulls the flowers from behind his back, the stems cut neatly with the help of his adamantium tools. They’re beautiful, all hand picked from the surrounding forest around the cabin. 

He guides them to your hand, noticing your unusual hesitation as you stare at the bouquet. He, too, pauses, looking over your face to understand your silence. Did you hate them? You never usually hate them.

“Do you…” he hesitates, trying to find the words. “Hate them?”

“No,” you say, word soft as you shake your head, the motion just as gentle as your voice.

Logan cocks his head slightly, angling to meet your eyes but you only divert them again, turning away from his gaze as you reach for the bunch of flowers. Only now they’re out of your grasp, his hand to his chest. 

“You okay?” he asks, the withdrawal of the gift an attempt to make you meet his eyes. 

“Yeah,” you lie with a nod, a small, faint, smile accompanying the fib. 

“You’re not lying to me, are you?” 

You look over him quickly, expression bashful as you shrug. He hates when you lie to him, especially about these things. It was only a white lie really, just a small, teeny tiny mistruth to spare yourself from embarrassment. But your silence doesn’t last long.

“I messed up dinner,” you admit, the confession pried from you by his prolonged, patient silence. Your words are quiet as you avoid his eyes, instead staring down to his chest.

He glances past you and into the saucepan, seeing no such fault. He faintly shakes his head, features quizzical as he tries to understand.

“It looks good to me,” he says, with a slight, but genuine shrug – unable to see what you see.

You close your eyes with a sigh, the noise light and airy as your head drops, gaze lowering. 

“I forgot the bacon.”

His head cocks once again, the motion like he’s growing more and more confused. 

“Yeah?” he prompts, trying to get you to say more. 

But that’s all there is to say, you forgot the bacon – that’s it. It wasn’t like it was a pause or the beginning of some speech.

“It’s your favourite part,” you reply, defeat evident in your voice. 

“Uh-uh?” he guides you through your confession, still unsure of what the issue is. He knew there was more, he just had to ease it out of you. 

“It’s your favourite part,” you repeat, momentarily glancing up to meet his eyes. “It’s not your favourite meal if I forget your favourite part,” you cut yourself short as your voice begins to waver, a bubble forming in your the back of your throat. 

He holds onto your short eye contact, following your gaze when your head goes to turn. “Come on now, talk to me,” he offers his comfort, speaking like it was a plea.

“I feel like I can never keep up.”

“Keep up with what?” he questions, desperate to keep you talking. 

“With you,” you pause and place your hand over your opposite upper arm, the act a brief moment of self soothing. You exhale softly before continuing. “You do all these nice things for me— see? Look,” you point to the flowers in his hand. “Right there. You thought of me and you got them and they’re beautiful. Why can’t I do that?”

Logan opens his mouth to speak, though you’re keen to continue. The bandaid free and invoking all your feelings to come out at once. 

“I make you desserts, I make a mess. I buy you something, I buy the wrong thing. I make your favourite dinner, I ruin your favourite dinner,” you pause, your vision growing blurry. “Sometimes,” you pause once more, wiping your eyes. “Sometimes I don’t know if you know how much I love you. Like, I can never seem to prove it and I don’t—” you cut yourself off, stopping yourself from what you were about to say. You didn’t want to make a further mess of things. 

“You don’t, what?” he asks, his attention undivided as he listens to you. “You don’t, what?” he repeats, eyes boring into yours as he urges a response from you. 

“Want you to feel like you made a mistake,” you confess, voice quiet like you were ashamed for thinking such thing. 

“Do you think I made a mistake?” he questions, flipping your moment of insecurity back on you. Though his words hold no malice, no intention of hurt – just simply speaking like he was trying to figure you out. 

Your silence speaks louder than any words could. Your eyes quickly flickering over his face like you were anticipating what he may say in response. It could go one of two ways: irritated and angry or soft and hurt. 

“I haven’t,” he says, voice as firm as his eyes. “I know I haven’t,” he repeats, trying to engrain it into you. 

All you can offer Logan is a faint, flattered smile, fragments of disbelief just as evident within you as before. One thing about your husband you knew to be forever true, is his earnest nature. So you knew he wasn’t telling you what you wanted to hear only to spare himself.

Logan places the flowers on the counter to the right of you, laying the bunch neatly at your side. He keeps his attention on you, eyes fixed on yours as if he’s trying to prove his sincerity – his honesty. 

His head drops slightly as he rests his lips against your forehead. “Do you believe me?” he asks gently against your skin, punctuating his question with a kiss to where he just spoke.

You wrap your arms around him as you tuck your face into his neck, hands connecting in the middle of his back. “Yeah,” you reply, word muffling into him. 

It was a lie, a partial lie at that. You knew in your heart —deep, deep in there— that it was true, and that you believed it, but right now? You just couldn’t get it into your head. So you lied, not wanting to run around in circles with repetitive asks all evening.

But this is Logan, he knows your tells and when you’re lying. But he doesn’t poke any further, instead pressing another kiss to your forehead before pulling away, clearing his throat briefly. 

“Why don’t you go lay in the tub,” he starts, usual gruff voice now soft, speaking like he’s trying to soothe you. “I’ll finish that off,” he gestures with his eyes, nodding to the stove top on the other side of you. 

You turn to look at the ‘mess’ beside you and nod, accepting his help with no more deflecting or avoiding. And as you step aside, you stroke over his back where your hands laid just moments before, the act another one of your silent thanks.

His left, ringed hand brushes your left, ringed hand as you move from your placement in front of him, your fingers loosely entwining for a short, brief second before passing. 

⎯ ☆ ⎯

Standing in front of the dresser in your shared bedroom, you change from your towel and into something a little more comfortable – opting for a robe and slippers. You give yourself a quick glance over as you pass the mirror on your way out the room, though you don’t take too much notice, instead flicking off the light switch as you set off to the living room.

The bath helped. It helped massively, actually. 

Your slippers scuffle along the hallway of your cabin, the floorboards worn and creaky by it’s old age. Lingering in the doorframe, you look over at Logan on the sofa, elbows resting on his knees as he stares at the lit fireplace ahead – looking as though he’s lost in thought.

“Hi,” you start, capturing his attention.

His eyes flick up to you, a faint —his usual— smile welcoming you back. He clears his throat like he’s going to speak but instead he taps the empty seat on the couch beside him.

You look around the open space before your eyes land on the orange, warm light shining out of the oven and onto the tiles. The pie you started to make now sitting on the centre shelf. The rest of your messes cleaned and tucked away, all evidence hidden. And there he sits, asking for no recognition – no praise or approval for cleaning up after you. He’s just there, patiently awaiting you.

“How long’s it been in?” you ask, gesturing to the oven. “The pie,” you add, turning to look at him with a smile.

“Three minutes,” he reciprocates your warmth as he nods you over to him. 

“Did you let the pastry warm up?”

He nods.

“And the—” 

“Taken care of,” he interrupts, slipping his hand into yours. He guides you to stand between his legs, eyes honed in on you above. Like he’s anticipating you, he answers the question you’re about to ask – once again proving just how well he knows you. 

“Cooked it in ‘nother pan then added it on top,” he replies, speaking casually.

You stifle a laugh as you shake your head – it was really a simple fix. 

With his gaze still focused on you, he begins playing with your left hand, his thumb mindlessly grazing your ring – the fiddling an absentminded act. As if he’s reminding him and yourself of your marital bond.

“Thank you.”

He hums, the sound far more gentle than his typical rough ones. It’s like he’s acknowledging your appreciation without taking the credit for it.

You extend your free hand, reaching for the side of his face, touch light as you brush over his cheek. Your thumb traces under his eye, soothing over the tired skin as you take a step closer – silently instructing him to lean against the back.

Logan does as wordlessly asked, his hips rolling underneath himself as he repositions, sitting in a manspread for you. He follows your movements as you sit on his lap, straddling one of his beefy thighs, your arms briefly hooking around his neck as you do so. He looks up at you from your very, very slight height advantage, eyes keen as he gazes into yours – staring like he’s trying to read you. You seem far lighter, far happier than the last time he saw you. 

One hand rests on his cheek, the other grazing through the shorts of his dark hair – your hold gentle and dear as you press a string of soft, slow kisses across the stubble of his beard. One by one you get closer to his mouth, reaching his lips by the fourth. 

His hands move up you from behind, skimming across the cheeks of your ass until they’re resting on your hips, the presence of his hold noticeable through the robes' thin fabric. He begins a pawing – irregular, needy squeezes into you like he’s silently communicating his thoughts and wants, scoping out whether you feel the same. 

“How much time is left on the pie?” you quietly ask, speaking against his lips. Your question also an attempt to scope him out.

His grasp around you tightens, the slight force of his hold making your grind against his thigh. “Enough,” he prompts, murmuring into your mouth – lips not yet daring to connect.

He grinds you over your thigh, the motion slow and leisured as he holds you over him, working you up little by little. Gentle exasperated breaths from you caught between your closeness. 

Upon hearing those sounds he loves ever so much, he pulls you into him, wrapping you into a brief, momentary hug before turning and laying you on the empty space of sofa beside him. He adjusts, situating above you but to your side, weight anchored beside you. 

You look up at him sweetly, eyes flickering over his face in the same way he does you – specks of admiration and lust forming within each of your glances. You adjust under him, the act like you were trying to redirect him, guide him to above rather than to your side. Wanting to feel him graze up against you.

Logan brings his free hand to the side of your face, touch heavy and desperate as he thumbs over your cheek, holding you there as he presses a couple lengthy kisses to your lips – the contact anything but brisk. And with that hand around the swell of your cheek, he’s grazing it down your neck, trailing towards your chest. 

He parts the loose, flimsy material of the robe, parting the fabric so he can slip a hand inside. Cupping one of your bare tits, he pulls it out from underneath – the full weight of your breast held within his warm, large hand. All of it on display for him to marvel at from above. 

Angling his neck, he reaches for your tit, tongue swiping over the nipple just moments before his lips encompass it. The warmth of his mouth making your stomach tingle and fingers tighten in his hair, a jolt-like roll of your hips accompanying your desperate micro actions.

He holds himself there for a prolonged moment, keeping his lips to your nipple as his fingers begin a very slight pawing around the lower swell of it. The motion like he’s rolling you within his hold. A streak of residual wet being left behind as he pulls his head up from your chest.

You look down to him between your tits, his face just mere inches from yours. One of your breasts still within Logan’s manly hold, the pad of his thumb rubbing over your priorly sucked nipple — the act a soothing caress. 

“Where’d you want me?” he asks, voice quiet between your close distance. “What’d you want?” he adds, just as softly as before, speaking like his one goal is to provide service. Service to you. 

You make a faint, disgruntled whine upon his questioning, your mind whizzing with thoughts of him, ideas of him. The feel of his cock growing hard against your thigh only making your head race faster. 

He shifts above you, lips reaching for yours as his hand around your tit travels down and between your thighs. The warmth of his touch is nothing like your warmth. He slips behind the opening of your robe, his fingers itching to your bare cunt ever so slowly, moving like he’s trying to help you decide. Though he’s doing the complete opposite — making it all the more challenging to answer with your mind whirring like it is. 

He lines the crease of your cunt with the pad of his finger, brushing up and down with the lightest, faintest of touch — his lips resting against yours so he can swallow your jittery breaths. The strokes from him are almost mindless, brushing over you like he’s unaware of the effects he has on you. Still has on you after all this time. 

“This?” he whispers against your mouth while his finger trails up the slit of your pussy, grazing over your folds.

You nod against him in response, the motion gentle and careful.

Logan teases over your cunt’s lips, collecting the slight build up of slick to smear and trace over you — spreading your arousal with his light touch. Working you up the and more. He pulls away to look over you, wanting to watch your face. 

And when your eyes find his, that’s when he slips his middle finger into you. Holding onto your gaze as he presses inside with the utmost of ease. 

It was what you needed, not what you wanted. And he could tell — the knitting of your brows and slightly unsatisfied crumple of your nose telling him before you even got a chance. And as you open your mouth to speak, mere milliseconds away from asking him to add another, he’s already lining his ring finger up with you, slipping it inside to accompany his middle. 

The steady rocking of him further blurs any sense of coherency in your mind, the slow massage-like fucking of his fingers against your g-spot loosening you up nicely for him. 

Your hand in his hair moves to the side of his face, grip desperate as you hold him there, muffling incoherent words of thanks — each murmur being overshadowed by those blissed noises he can never seem to get enough of. And while you keep his face to yours, your other hand is reaching for his arm between your thighs, fingers struggling to enwrap the meat of his upper wrist. 

The pumping of his fingers into you is steady, each graze of him from the inside coming from a place of leisure, like the concept of haste is the furthest thing in his mind. 

Though, he’s only human and there’s only so much he can take. Especially when you’re squirming under him like you are. The clicking of his fingers in your pussy only making it harder on him. 

So, he slowly retracts from the wet warmth of your cunt, strings of your cum remaining connected to him, until they don’t. And as he pulls himself away from you, he licks over his knuckles, lapping over the milky white band you left around him.

Logan sits on his heels between your thighs as he unbuckles his jeans, his dry hand tasked with the job of unbuttoning. He gives the band a hasty tug down, the act nothing short of pure desperation. 

He digs down the front to grab a hold on himself, grasp tight around his dick as he pulls it out over the top of his jeans. Cock hard and heavy within his hold. And as he gives himself a few preparatory strokes as he leans back over you in his prior hovered position — weight anchored on his free arm beside your head.

Guiding his cock to you between the opening of your robe, he pushes his head through your lips, collecting your arousal like it’s his personal, endless supply of lube. And only when he deems himself ready, he’s lining up with you, the tip of his dick pressing up against you for a brief moment before he’s easing in. Slowly but surely feeding himself into your cunt. 

Upon the entry of his thick, heavy cock, your hands fly up to his face, holding either cheek to keep him close, lips skimming like they did just minutes before. Breath being caught in your throat, the air almost trapped as you feel him sink further and further inside, filling you entirely with himself.

He stills, keeping the whole, full length of his cock plugged inside, the motion of his hips non-existent as he gives you a quick second to get reacquainted with his size. He lowers his head, pressing his forehead against yours while he catches his own breath, the suction-like feel from your cunt having the same effect on him as he does you.

You squirm underneath him and your knees cling to his sides, keeping him glued to you.

“Move,” you whisper, the word like that of pure need. “Come on.”

His lips straighten against yours, a subtle smile forming. “Thought’ya liked the buildup,” he speaks quietly. 

The hand that was around his dick, feeding into you, now rests on your face — carefully manhandling you and keeping you put. Logan nips at your lips quickly, pressing a chaste kiss to them as he rolls his hips into you, bumping his cock up.

“That’s what you wanted?” he teases, pressing a kiss just under your chin, making you tilt your head back. Hand moving with the motion of him, palm grazing to rest at the base of your throat. “It is, ain’t it?” he continues with his teasing, muttering between kisses along your jaw. “Hm?”

You hum, the noise sounding like a whine amongst your other blissed sounds. The concept of formulating coherent speech seeming to be far too difficult with the way he feels inside of you. All you can do is squeeze your eyes closed and nod, unable to do anything more than that – just lay beneath him, taking his tender, loving fucking. 

Logan’s one true goal: to replace all prior feelings of pain with pleasure, wanting to make you forget about your upset from before. And with the way his dick is winding into you, he’s getting closer to that goal. 

⎯ ☆ ⎯

including the moodboard bc she’s cute

[writingouthere]

exboyfriend!Sukuna x f!reader.

cw: smut, outdoor sex, angst, controlling behavior.

Your date was a disappointment.

The guy wasn't an asshole or anything, but at some point he'd talked about cryptocurrency for ten minutes straight without you saying a word and there was no coming back from that.

"I had a great time," he tells you as you stand on the subway platform after finally escaping the restaurant. You nod noncommittally and wonder if this is the part where he asks for your number. You're calculating the risk/reward of giving him a fake number and having him potentially call it while you're still right in front of him when you hear a familiar laugh from behind you.

"I doubt it," the voice says and you close your eyes. Maybe if you wish hard enough you can develop teleportation and not have to deal with this.

"I'm sorry, who are you?" your date asks, his voice only wavering a little as he looks at your ex-boyfriend. Honestly, you admire him. The sight of the tall, heavily tattooed (alleged) criminal was usually enough to make people cross the street to avoid him but not this accountant? Investment baker? Dentist? Fuck, he'd talked about his job for thirty minutes and you had not been listening. You would have guilty if you weren't actively judging him for not even noticing your lack of engagement.

Whatever, he probably wasn't brave, he was probably just an idiot.

Sukuna seemed to agree as he laughed again and put his hand on your shoulder.

"I'm her boyfriend."

Your date looked at him, looked at you, and seemed to be weighing if this was worth one mediocre date. He seemed frozen for a second until Sukuna took a step forward and the guy's previously dormant survival instincts seemed to awaken and he booked it down the train platform.

Once he was out of sight, you took Sukuna's hand and dropped it off your shoulder like a fallen leaf that had got stuck on your jacket.

"Are you following me, now?" You wouldn't have put it past him. You turn to face your ex who looks not only unrepentant for his little routine but vindicated. Or maybe he just looks vindictive, you can never tell.

"Are you going on dates with any loser that asks?" He tosses back and you roll your eyes.

"You didn't even meet him."

"So, he wasn't a loser? And you weren't deciding if it was worth giving him a fake number and having him call you right then?"

You hated that he knew you so well.

"He seemed the type to call," you concede and Sukuna scoffs.

"Absolutely, that fucker is. Women have been giving that dumb fuck fake numbers since he was begging for them with his little Nokia flip phone."

"Is Nokia still a thing?" you ask and Sukuna glares at you.

"Do I look like Google to you? Hey, don't try to district me, princess. We were talking about how you seem to have gotten it into your mind that you can cheat on me with any guy with a pulse."

"I'm not cheating on, we're not together," you tell him as your train pulls up. You don't bother protesting as he follows you on it, even though you know the old apartment you used to share is in the other direction from your new place.

"The fuck we're not," he seethes. The other riders look at you and you see one or two guys deciding if it's worth trying to get involved but you're more concerned about the teenage girl who looks ready to fight this asshole for you. God, you loved women.

"You're making a scene," you tell him and he looks ready to make the scene Oscar worthy before you give him the look that used to make him not call your friends' babies ugly when you went to birthday parties.

"Where can we talk then?"

"I'm not taking you to my place," you say and he sucks his teeth.

"Then let's go home."

"You mean to your home."

Sukuna looks furious but you're not in the mood. You had just spent the past two hours on a terrible date, which made you think about how dating was just going to be like this until you found a new boyfriend or gave up, which then made you think about your break up and how up until a few months ago, you thought you would never go on a first date with anyone ever again.

You hated that Sukuna had put you here and you hated that you still loved him.

"I'm not leaving until we talk about this."

"There's nothing to talk about."

You're so tired, Sukuna is so close and it's been so long since you got to smell him or feel his warmth. Your apartment was still barely furnished but everything in it was new and it still didn't feel like home. The one sweatshirt of his you'd let yourself take had stopped carrying his scent weeks ago, and just being close to him now, it made something in you relax. Like you were finally home.

"There fucking is," he hisses and now he's so close you can make out the scar on his jaw and the fullness of his lips. You used to tease him that you'd never met a man whose lips were as soft as his. He may have looked like tough shit, but you would never catch him out of the house without lotion and chapstick.

You wondered if he was still using the cherry chapstick you had bought him at the grocery store the week before you'd broken up.

"Are you going to marry me? Are you going to give me a baby?"

"Princess-"

"Then there's nothing to talk about," you say and you thank whoever's watching that the train is pulling up to your stop. You get off and Sukuna is right on your heels.

"You don't even want those things right now, why the fuck does it even matter?"

"I want them eventually and if you're not willing to give them to me, then I just don't think I need to keep wasting my time."

You're roughly dragged into a nearby alley and tossed against a brick wall. Sukuna's hand cups the back of your head, taking the force of the slam and you hate that he watches out for you even when he's being a controlling jackass.

"Being with me is wasting your time? Who the fuck do you think you are?"

"Not your girlfriend," you snap back. "Let go, I want to go home."

"Fuck you," he tells you and you're about ready to fight him, grown scary man or not when he leans down and his lips are on yours.

They taste like cherry chapstick.

His hand on the back of your head tightens, his thumb pressing against your neck and making you shiver. His other hand is pressed tight to your jaw and when you gasp against his mouth, he presses down as if he can hold you open and consume you so you can't leave him again.

His muscled thigh is in between yours and you can feel the rough texture of his jeans, the same pair he wore to work, the same pair you'd put through the washing machine a thousand times, rub against where your legs are only covered in tights. The shorter than usual skirt meant to entice your date, and instead it was being taken advantage of by your ex-boyfriend.

Sukuna let go of your face so he could put his hand underneath the fabric of your skirt.

"New outfit?" He teases as his hand slides to the top of your tights.

"Got it for my date," you snap and he growls at you before he rips the seams of your tights. Before you can complain, he's dragging them down your thighs and diving into your panties so he can get to your cunt. The underwear is new too and a pained noise leaves you at the sensation of them snapping against your inner thigh, both at the pain and the thought of how much they cost.

"I still have those blue ones you like at home, the ones you wore for my birthday last year," he tells you as he slides his finger down the seam of your cunt. You're wet and it annoys you because orgasming has been a bitch to achieve since you had to start giving them to yourself again.

"You can keep them," you tell him and he bites your lower lip between his teeth, they'd always felt too sharp for a man and you know you're a twitch or a less than playful nibble away from a busted lip.

"They're not really up for wearing anymore anyway."

You want to ask him what he means by that as he kisses down your neck and thrusts one finger into you, the slide almost unholy.

"So fucking wet, your cunt was always better at talking than you were."

The sensation of being filled even though it's not enough it's not enough begins to itch at your need to be satisfied as your mind fills in the gaps of his previous words.

You can imagine Sukuna in the bed you used to share, the dark blue sheets and the comforter covered in a black pattern that had reminded you of the marks that covered his body. One hand holding your favorite pair of panties and the other his big cock, that sometimes you missed even more than him.

Did he use the panties to jerk off with, the fabric just an expensive tissue for his cum? Did he hold them to his nose and pretend he could still smell your pussy on them in the bed that used to smell like both of you? You had tried watching porn and reading smut, the stuff you had relied on before you were together, and nothing compared to what it felt like to come from his fingers, his tongue, his cock.

The only times you had touched yourself when you were together were when Sukuna had wanted to watch, his commentary pushing you to the edge. He had always known what to say.

Good girl, now try two fingers for me. Not enough? Do you need my cock? Fucking slutty princess, eh?

No matter how demeaning his words were, you had never felt true shame because his desire for you was always apparent. Sukuna never held back praise where he felt it was deserved, and he had always been quick to let you know that what you were doing was pleasing him.

"Pay attention to me, princess. I'd hate to think I was boring you." The words are laced with cruelty and the added pressure of a second figure is harsh, too soon, and still not enough.

The hand in your hair tightens, but the grip still careful not to mess it up beyond repair. Something you'd been adamant about in the beginning days of your relationship. The gentleness of it, of him, makes you cry out.

Since Sukuna was the only one who still seemed cognizant of how you were in an alley, only a right turn from being on a public sidewalk, he was quick to catch your moan in his mouth. Nearly purring in reply, a ridiculous thing for a ridiculous man to do.

"Fuck, that's it. No one else can make you feel like this, this cunt is fucking mine."

"Yes," you hiss out in agreement. Pleased with your concession, Sukuna's thumb swipes over your clit as he continues his punishing rhythm with his fingers. You can hear how wet you are as it echoes off the brick around you. Even though it's cold outside, you feel almost too hot between the warmth of his body shielding yours from the world around you and the heat that's continuing to build up in your core.

"So close, I know you are. Beg me, princess and I might let you come," he whispers in your ear and you would feel embarrassed of the whine you let out if you weren't so close.

"Please, Sukuna. Please, let me come!"

"I don't know. Not sure if I should reward you since you've apparently being going around giving this pussy to fucking anyone."

You shake your head. "No, I haven't slept with anyone since we broke up."

Sukuna kisses you so hard, you're grateful for the hand behind your head because you know his knuckles must be bruised from the force he kisses you with. Sukuna pulls back, a string of saliva connecting his lips to yours and you hate that you find that hot. That this whole thing is hot.

For a second, the softness in his eyes takes your breath away and you almost forget about where you are and what you're doing and why it's the worst idea you've ever had. He's just Sukuna, the love of your life and you miss him so much.

You think he might say something crazy like he loves you or even propose but then the softness is gone and he just grins at you.

"Alright, come then, you've earned it."

With permission granted, Sukuna focuses his attention on your clit in just that way you like in the way that only someone who's done this hundreds of times could do. He's definitely leaving hickies around your collarbone and neck, but for now they feel good and when you come, you bite your lip knowing it will be bruised. A reminder of how you're an idiot when you look at it in the mirror tomorrow.

Still soft with your orgasm, you reach down to return the favor but Sukuna grabs your hand.

"I'm not walking around with cum in my jeans," he tells you, kissing your palm. Typical of him, to end something crass with something sweet. You sigh as he puts you back down on the ground. You pull up what remains of your tights, the fabric uncomfortable on your quickly drying thighs. Your ripped panties lie on the ground and Sukuna looks at them forlornly before shaking his head, dirty alleyway panties apparently being too much even for him.

Sukuna grabs the bag you'd dropped when he'd kissed you and gestures for you to exit the alley. A few passersby give you strange looks but you figure if you were going to be arrested for public indecency, it would have happened already.

"I guess we're going to mine," you say. "I live like another two blocks this way."

"I know," Sukuna says already heading that way.

You blow a piece of hair out of your eye. "Of course you do."

When Sukuna actually types in the passcode to your building you almost lose it, but you're tired and honestly you had kind of expected to just come home to him already in your apartment at some point. Sukuna had never been great at respecting boundaries. Or the law.

You unlock the door to your apartment, it takes everything in you not to ask if he already has a key. You don't want to know. He follows you in and the two of you sit at the dingy two person table you have set up by one of the only windows.

"Cozy."

"Fuck you." He smirks in that way that has always made you want to punch him and you're reminded that you're currently wearing shredded tights.

"Sukuna, you wanted to talk. So talk."

The smirk leaves his face and he looks at his nails, pressing his thumb against the one on his pointer finger and then looking through the 'o' formed there. "You left."

"I did."

He looks at you. "Why?"

"You know why," you say, tired again.

"Sure, you want to get married at some point. You want a baby at some point. I don't see what that has to do with us, right now."

"Because right now leads to that some point. It doesn't just happen. There are things I want, that are important to me. If they're not important to you, then I need to find someone who has the same priorities as me."

"Because I'm not your priority," he says and this is the rehash of an argument you'd had a thousand times. Sukuna was selfish and possessiveness and while that had always granted you a certain security, it had also been a chain you'd constantly worn around your ankle. You weren't going to defend your time at work or with friends to your boyfriend. That belonged to a different time, to different women and it had been a nonnegotiable early in your relationship that he figure that shit out with himself.

"Sukuna, I love you but I'm not going to give up what I want for my future because you don't want it. You don't have to want it, in fact I appreciate that you've been honest about it-"

"So appreciative, you left me," the words are almost snarled and you sigh.

"That's not fair. You can't be mad I want something else, the same way I'm not mad that you want something else. It's not a character flaw to not want to get married, or to not what kids. It just means you have a person out there for you who shares that view. Because it's not me."

"Why can't it be enough to just have a life with the two of us?"

"It's not about whether or it's enough, it's about me wanting something else."

There's a pause. Sukuna claws at the dents already in your battered table and deepens the grooves as you try not to flinch at the sound of his nails bearing down on wood.

Finally, he responds. "You know, I spent my childhood, my teens and a lot of adulthood raising Yuuji because our piece of shit parents couldn't be bothered and let me tell you. It's fucking hard. It is constant and they need so much for you. I didn't do anything but work and watch him for almost two decades and I don't want to do that again. I want my own life."

"I understand," you tell him. "That was a lot, even if you did a great thing by taking him in."

"It wasn't because I was nice. You seem to be forgetting that I'm a murderer. And you want me to fucking watch Bluey with some brat."

"You may not be nice but you do right by the people you care about. I also don't think you've murdered a baby, it would probably be okay."

"That's more incidental than a conscience choice," he says and you know he has to hear how ridiculous he sounds.

"Alright. I respect your decision but for what it's worth, we're not kids anymore and you wouldn't be doing this alone. I think Yuuji turned out pretty great because he had you, and I think any kid of our would be lucky to have you as a dad."

"You would really do all that with me," he says and his voice is as close to wonderous as you've ever heard it. "You really are a lost cause."

You try not to react, remind yourself that this is always how Sukuna responds to affection. He'd laughed at you the first time you'd told him you loved him. You'd punched him and broken your hand on his chin. He'd told you he loved you in the ER as the attendant resetting your hand looked on in horror.

"I think that's enough for today. Thanks for stopping by and for the orgasm, appreciate it," you say, rising from the chair. You walk the short trip to your door and open it. "Hope you have a safe trip home."

Sukuna stays seated. "That's it?"

"Yeah, Sukuna, that's it."

"And if I said I could do this, I could give you those things."

You think about it and look him over. How his hands twitch as if only his ego is preventing them from clenching. The clear trauma that was informing his previous stance.

"I'd say take some time and maybe talk to someone. I don't want to do this with someone who can just bring themselves to bear it. I want them to be as excited as me."

"That's asking for a lot from a guy."

"But someone will do it." Sukuna looks angry again and when he steps in your space, you push him gently away with your hand. He goes to hold it and even the familiar scrape of his calluses against your skin can't make you waver.

"Bye, Sukuna."

Sukuna looks at you, waiting for you to give in you know but you won't.

He leaves without another word.

When the door to the stairwell slams shut, you finally let yourself cry.

----------

It's been a month since you've seen Sukuna and you're on another date.

The guy is unoffensive. He gave you a hug when you met up and he'd made a joke about the plethora of other couples at the restaurant. You two started playing a game where you tried to guess how many dates each couple had been on?

"Three, she's finally figured out she can't put up with how he chews no matter how nicely coiffed his hair is," your date says as you take another sip of your drink.

"That's a second date, his chewing is a commit or quit type of deal and she looks ready to go. Bet they didn't eat together on their first date."

"Is he telling the plot to Dune, he has not stopped talking since we sat down," he says and you giggle despite yourself.

You've just started on the couple both looking determinedly at their phones by the window when your phone rings.

"Sorry, I need to take this," you say and he smiles.

"No worries, I'll let you know how many times she misses her mouth while looking at her phone."

You wave as you go to stand outside. You take a deep breath and then answer.

"Hey."

"Hey, princess. Bad time?"

"No, just, what do you want?"

"Well, I'm planning this first date with this girl and I'm having trouble figuring out how to explain something."

You want to throw up, what kind of test is this?

"What do you want to say?"

"Well, I've heard that it's important to be straightforward with your intentions, so you don't waste anyone's time."

"And what are your intentions?" You manage to spit out and he laughs, his smugness almost seeping out the phone.

"Well not anytime soon, but eventually I think I'd like a little brat. You know, prove to Yuuji that he wasn't a fluke."

You heart is pounding and you hate him. You love him.

"Uh huh."

"And I guess it would probably be easier to do that if we just got married. You know, taxes, healthcare, I still don't have healthcare but my wife will and I've heard you can add people to that."

"This proposal is the fucking worst one I've ever heard," you say, trying to ignore the fact you are now crying in front of a restaurant. People walk by giving you pitying looks, probably think you got stood up.

"It's not a proposal, it's a framing of intent."

"Why do you talk like such an old man, we are almost the same age?"

"Why do you talk like such a brat?"

"You know-"

"Probably," he says and you laugh despite yourself.

"So when is this date?"

"Tonight," he says. "You can wear that dress you're wearing, it looks perfect on you."

"Are you fucking here, you creep?"

"That's no way to talk to your future husband and no. That place is a shithole, I'm at our usual."

"Good, I've missed it. No one makes my drink the way I like it," you tell him and he hums.

"Well, it will be waiting for you when you get here. So get here soon."

"Alright, I'll see you soon."

Sukuna hangs up and you stand there. There's a perfectly nice guy inside. One who makes you laugh and who maybe one day you could grow to love.

But there's another guy across town who is sitting at your favorite restaurant, ordering your favorite drink. His lips taste like the organic chapstick, he claims to be too tacky to be worth wearing but keeps it in his pocket anyway. He built all your furniture and let you paint your bathroom green even though you live in a rental. He's held your hair back when you were sick and cleaned it up even as he bitched at you for the mess and done a rather cruel impression of you retching.

There's another guy that you love.

So you go back into the restaurant to tell your perfectly nice date that something has come up.

Maybe you're a fool, but what else could you do?

Maybe this will be a series, idk. Being an adult is weird. This is def ooc but you know, let me work through things and call them fiction. That's what this account is for.

[nnon0]

JJH fic recs

other fic rec posts : 1.(active post) 2.

been getting a little hard trying to find long fics to read these days but here are some that i complied in the last month or so :)

(🫀) -personal faves

all these years @domjaehyun

WC: 34.1k

fluff, smut, angst; childhood friends-to-lovers!au, college!au, neighbors!au

Just friends @lonelyharmonies

WC: 22k

Strangers-to-friends- to-lovers!au , college au

what happens when you wake up in someone else’s bed after getting drunk in a party?

(🫀) Only @ppangjae

WC: 21.6k

almost!lovers au

You like to believe crossing paths with Jaehyun after graduation is just pure coincidence. He always comes and goes. But what if he decides to stay? To stick around? To give what was an ‘almost’ a chance?

Romeo roulette @wincore

WC:21.1k

soulmate au, office au, fake dating

if finding your soulmate is the same as a damn game of Russian roulette, you are determined to not pull the trigger at all. except, you know who your soulmate is and he doesn’t—and given a choice to pretend, you find that jaehyun is the lesser of the two burdens to bear.

he fell first and he fell harder @taurusdaylight

WC: 18.7k

Basketball captain!jaehyun, childhood-friends-to-lovers

jeong jaehyun really loves basketball. but also, he’s terribly in love with his childhood best friend of seventeen years, you.

(🫀) all i wanted @yutaholic

WC: 17k

heartbreakers, smut

A year has passed since you last saw your best friend, Jaehyun, but the man who returns is not the boy you once knew and loved. Jaehyun will barely speak to you and you don’t know why, but you both may be exactly what the other needs to mend your broken hearts.

(🫀)The Apple of My Eye @sehunniepotwrites

WC: 17k

school! au , teacher!au , Kindergarten teacher!jaehyun

As a young and handsome kindergarten teacher of two years, Jeong Jaehyun was used to receiving presents during Teacher’s Appreciation Week. This, however, was the first year Jaehyun wanted to give a present of appreciation to someone else—his new and ever-so-lovable teacher’s assistant.

(🫀)song for a little sparrow @ppangjae

WC:13.7k

poet!jaehyun x painter!reader , strangers-to-lovers

As a burnt out painter, you packed one suitcase and flew a one-way trip to Paris in hopes of finding your passion again. In the city of love, the last thing you expected was to bump into a man who doesn’t believe in love. But you do, and you find yourself showing him the wonders of love and falling in love. Just don’t fall in love with him.

I like me better (when i’m with you) @tyonfs

WC:11.8k

friends to enemies to lovers, sports au , smut

there was no one else on the planet that made your blood boil like jeong jaehyun did. you never thought your feelings toward him were anything past pure hatred, but when you were lost in the feeling of his lips on yours and his hands on your body, you couldn’t help but think that maybe a part of you didn’t completely hate his guts. 

Someone to Bring Home @rouiyan

WC: 10.2k

Med student!jaehyun, College au, Brothers best friend , home for thanksgiving

synopsis — “if you’ve been waiting for fallin’ in love, babe, you don’t have to wait on me.” (sanctuary - joji)

Boyfriend material @mochidoie

WC: 6.2k

fake dating au, strangers-to-lovers , slight angst

Although you and Jaehyun had never spoken a word to each other before this class project, he asks you to be in a fake relationship in order to prove to his longtime crush that he is boyfriend material.

Back up Valentine @tyonfs

WC: 2.9k

Spiderman!jaehyun

you don’t have any unrealistic expectations for valentine’s day considering your love life has never flourished, but the least your best friend could’ve done was not summon an intergalactic army of an alien species during your first blind date ever.

SERIES

S.C.S; ayakashi @starlightkun

WC:66.2k

heavily based off yet another otome game, ayakashi: romance reborn ; bc of this, all the lore used in here is inspired by/based on/taken from the lore of the game, not the actual lore of traditional ayakashi/yokai stories

[deathbxnny]

RAHH YOUR BACKKK

perchance, could you do arcane women reacting to reader in the aftermath of a really toxic relationship like how they would comfort them and stuff?

Arcane women comforting you after a toxic relationship. | Sevika, Vi, Jinx x Gn!Reader

You can't just say perchance!/J

But on a serious note, thanks for the interesting request, I had alot of fun writing this!<3

Content: Angst, past toxic relationships, fluff, can be read as either platonic or romantic? Idk, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns.

((Not proofread))

》SEVIKA

She hated your ex and never bothered to hide it either. Her passive-aggressive remarks and cold glares got the point across every time, but she never tried to talk you out of your relationship. It wasn't entirely her business anyway, and you'd learn eventually on your own. Trying to intervene would only make things worse unless they were hurting you, to which she'd bury them alive for it.

Either way, it came to no surprise to her when you appeared at her door late into a random night, crying and sobbing incoherently at what had happened. You finally found the strength to break it off with your ex, but that didn't stop the heartbreak from lingering in your heart so horribly. Yes, they were terrible to you, and it was for the best you left, but the self-doubt and conflicting emotions in you were driving you to the point of insanity.

Thankfully, Sevika was quick to get you into her humble home wordlessly, slightly unsure of how to comfort you. But she didn't play her long awaited "I told you so" card. Instead, she got you some tissues, a nice cold drink of your choice, and your favorite food before simply sitting down next to you in silence. She figured that listening to your rant would be better than to say anything, and so she did just that, for how long you needed it.

Deep down, she was brewing with anger, though, yet kept it calm for you. She wanted you to feel comfortable here and even goes as far as to let you cuddle up to her at the end of your vent session. In her mind, many different ways of dealing with your ex's existence came to mind, yet they stilled at the softest "thank you" given by you.

Her heart skipped an embarrassed beat as she waved your gratefulness off with a stubborn shake of her head, claiming it was nothing to worry about.

Your ex, on the other hand, definitely had something to worry about, though, once she gets her hands on them.

》VI

Vi has been itching to fight your ex from day one, yet refrained at your pleas to not hurt them. She always told you that you deserved better. That you deserved someone who actually loved and cared about you, but you couldn't see her way no matter how many times you two talk about it. It's like you couldn't see past the love you had for your ex until the glasses finally did break.

The pink haired woman intervened during a heavy argument between you and your ex, which eventually led you to finally just break it off with them for good. You were so sick of their fighting and finally understood what Vi was seeing from the start... but that didn't stop the guilt and heartbreak from seeping into your heart by the time you made it back to her place.

You felt ashamed for not seeing it sooner, but Vi was quick to wrap you up in warm blankets and reassure you that there was nothing to be embarrassed about. Things like that can happen to anyone, after all. And you learned something from it, so that's a good thing!

She will try and give you a bit of a peptalk that then veers into her, wondering if she should beat your ex up for good measure. Words won't get through to them, but these fists certainly will! Or so she thinks. Thankfully, you eventually fall asleep in her embrace before you can notice her once again reckless scheming.

Vi may let them get away with it for now, but if she ever sees them around, it will be on sight... well, as long as you're not there too. She wants you to feel safe with her and hope's that you do, as she, too, finally falls asleep.

》JINX

I hope your ex is good at dodging bullets because Jinx will shoot them on sight. She has already contemplated this from the start and never thought anything good of them either in all the time you dated them. She'd prank and annoy the hell out of them in the hope of driving them away, especially after you warned her not to hurt them.

But that didn't mean anything to her anymore, after you two finally broke up. Her efforts weren't for nothing after all, and she would've rejoiced at the news if it weren't for your heartbroken expression that greeted her the moment you stepped into her hideout.

Pushing her chaotic and murderous thoughts aside for the moment, she was quick to cuddle you up in her strong arms and let you rant all about your troubles to her. She'll feed you your favorite food and drink whilst you speak, yet doesn't say much herself. She's a good listener when she wants to be and luckily knows when to be serious. At most, she'll join in at the shit talking phase, glad to finally be free to gossip about them in peace with you at last.

Eventually, she'll try and distract you with some new inventions or stories of hers until you fall asleep, at which she takes that as her green light to go on a little hunt. After covering you in all of the blankets she can find and making sure that your resting place is extra comfortable, she casually loads her gun and exits the hide out with a wide grin.

Finally, some revenge for all the tears you've shed.

[alwaysthefool]

But She’s Not You (x Zayne)

Technically part 2 to Opposite (linked) but you can read it stand alone too.

Warnings: insecurity

Tags: Angst to comfort, f! Reader (pro trans blog), MC Reader

Synopsis: After you saw him with someone else and misunderstood, Zayne lets you know you’re the only one for him.

Sulking at the waiting room couldn’t get past Yvonne’s sharp eyes. It had been a week since you’d come to the hospital. You didn’t pick up Zayne’s calls after you ‘ended things’, and him, being the gentleman that he was, did not push it. He was probably busy again, and now he had someone else to keep him company. Unfortunately for you, you had a weird and constant chest pain that was getting hard to ignore. You begged the receptionist to get you any other cardiologist than Zayne, which meant you had to wait, because Zayne would never make you wait when it came to your heart.

“What’s wrong?” She took a seat beside you at the metal chairs. “Trouble with the doc?”

You sighed, your head down, grateful she was here. “I saw him with another girl. Laughing, with another girl.”

“Dr. Zayne laughs?” Grayson slumped down on the other side of you. That just made you feel worse. Right, he was usually stoic, but who wouldn’t laugh when someone like her was making a joke?

Yvonne pinched Grayson, as if begging him to read the room.

“Well, he’s doing terribly.” Grayson spoke immediately. “I don’t think he took a break this entire week. Jo almost has to force him to take a break at times.”

Tears filled your eyes immediately and you hated that it wasn’t because you were concerned about him, but rather that he had another girl who’d remind him to take breaks, to eat sweets, to smile every now and then. It was selfish to think like that, but you couldn’t help but wish it was you.

“Dr. Grayson.” Yvonne warned, gesturing to you. “Don’t you have a surgery to get to?”

Grayson took the cue noticing your silent crying, pretending he was paged for something important, running away.

“There’s really nothing going on between them.” Yvonne tried to help you, patting your back. “There’s been new discoveries on Protocore syndrome treatments, and Jo is from the institute that made the discovery.”

You tried to stop the tears. Right, it couldn’t be helped. “It’s just… hard to be with someone like him.” You wiped your face with your sleeve. “Someone who’s always going to be wanted by people who are more than me. I’ll make one mistake, and he can find another girl who’s better than me in every way, and will never make any. I don’t want to spend my life thinking I have to compete.”

“Ms. [Name].” Zayne’s voice spoke from above you, sending your already struggling heart into a frenzy. “Please see me in my room immediately.”

You looked up to see him walk away, into his office, the nurse beside him, apologising to you. “I tried to hide it from him, but he was furious when I didn’t tell him you were here.” She whispered. You told her it was okay, silently following him. He held the door to his office open for you, closing it behind him once the two of you were in.

“You might be mad at me, but did you really have to try and change doctors?”

“I didn’t want to waste your time.”

“Nonsense.” He looked back at you with furious eyes. His hair was a mess, he’d definitely not had enough sleep, and you could see a bit of stubble on his jaw. No matter what happened, Zayne would put effort into his appearance, but you’d never seen him like that before.

You wanted to say something, ask him if he was alright, but you could only take your place on the couch in his office.

“How long have you been experiencing this?” He asked sternly, still standing, looking at your chart.

“A week.”

He shot you an exasperated look. “A week? And you’re only coming here now?”

I didn’t want to face you. You wanted to confess, but you settled with “I thought it’d go away by itself.”

Zayne tried to calm himself down, placing the chart on the table, sitting down on his desk with his head in his hands. You didn’t have control over yourself as your legs walked over to him. Even if he liked someone else, you couldn’t let him go. You couldn’t help but reach for him, your hand lightly resting on his back.

“Zayne?”

“Can I hold you?” His voice was broken, pleading. You let out a soft ‘yes’, and he immediately pulled you into his lip, hugging you tightly.

Was Zayne… crying?

“You’re here.” He whispered, resting his face against your neck, nuzzling into it, tightening his protective hold. Even if you couldn’t hear it well, you felt his wet eyes. He still smelled of coffee and mint. “Please don’t leave me again. I thought I messed up for good. Please give me another chance.”

“I overreacted.” You put your hands in his hair, and he kissed your neck. “I’m so sorry.”

“No.” He pulled away, holding you firmly on his lap with his large hands on your waist. “I didn’t understand how it must’ve looked to you. I’m away all the time, I don’t make time for you, but if it’s not you…” He looked intensely into your eyes. “It’s no one.”

Your heart felt less heavy, the pain easing into relief. You took a deep breath, but it still hurt your chest a little.

“And I’m sorry for what I said.“ He continued.

You teared up again. “Yeah, you should be. You have no idea how I felt.”

“I’ll win you back, if you’re not yet convinced.” He kissed you on your cheek, taking a handkerchief out of his bag to wipe away your tears. “Tell me, what do you want? I’ll give you anything.”

“What I came for. A diagnosis for my heart.” You smiled.

Zayne turned red, clearing his throat, helping you off his lap but not letting go of your hand. “Of course. I need you to come with me to get some tests done.” He used his free hand to look at his notes on the chart.

“And after that, you’re coming home with me so I can make it all up to you.”

—x—

[coryosbaby]

ɪ ᴛᴏʟᴅ ᴍʏꜱᴇʟꜰ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴀꜱᴛ ᴛɪᴍᴇ. Davos “Benjicot” Blackwood x Fem! Bracken! Reader

Synopsis: Ben is now wed, but that doesn’t mean that the tension between the two of you won’t break again.

Content warning . Infidelity, secret situationship & an unexplained past, enemies to lovers // throatfucking, doggy, rough sex . Dom! Ben, sub! Reader

.ೃ࿐

Brackens and Blackwoods have never gotten along.

Anyone can see that that much is clear, in the days of Aegon Targaryen’s usurp. The wars raging do nothing, however, to stifle the insufferable need for intimacy.

Benjicot Blackwood has never been one for marriage. His new wife, Alana, is merely a lady from the court. And when he sat at the table awaiting the end of the night of his wedding, you had sat directly across from him.

Your hate for Benjicot Blackwood stems from a childhood feud and messy sparring practice. Your snarky comments boil his blood, as does your entire line. Brackens, however much they wander the same fields as Blackwoods, share the same things, were merely invited to the wedding for a show of peace. Though Benjicot sneered at the idea, he kept his mouth shut and his hand at his sword.

You do not have a sword, but you certainly have an insufferable mouth.

And of course your parents would bring you here— makers of peace, they call themselves. But somehow, some way, you had taken your seat right across from the bride and groom.

The wedding itself was a great bore. Dancing, dancing, and… more dancing. You had to get away.

And as fate had had it, Benjicot had excused himself and you had both ran into each other in an empty corridor.

It was an accident, really. To be so close to his chambers when you begun running your mouth. You don’t know where or when his lips ended up on yours.

—

The door to his room slams shut, his hands finding your shoulders as he hits the wall behind him. You drop to your knees before you can stop yourself.

You didn’t think the night would end with you on Benjicot’s bedroom floor, knees bent, with the man’s girthy length slapping against his stomach as he releases himself from the confines of his pants. But then again, you didn’t think it would end like this the last time. Or the time before that, or the time before that..

You reach up to grip him in your hand, shakily exhaling when you look up to see his eyes staring down at you. Your pretty pink mouth opens, leaning forward to lick the glistening head of his cock. He curses, and the noise he lets out is so primal that your underwear drenches with slick at the sound.

You take him into your mouth.

Well, as much as you can. The man is so big that you don’t understand how it’s going to fit in your cunt, let alone your mouth. But you’re stubborn, a bracken, and the obstacle you’re facing isn’t going to overcome you. Especially since you’ve accomplished it before.

Your lips wrap snugly around his length. The corners of them burn at the stretch and you’ve only take a few inches, but you breathe through your nose and swirl your tongue. You’ve got him moaning, now— something breathy and gravelly that makes your knees quake. You pull off of him, so suddenly almost that the man wants to force you back into him. He licks his lips, and shakily murmurs, “don’t be a tease.”

You hum. Your index finger swipes through the saliva/precum mixture on the tip of his cock, and your eyes nervously dart to how small the digit looks compared to him.

“I will admit, Sir Blackwood,” you singsong. “For someone with such a terrible attitude, you do have a nice cock.”

The man chuckles breathlessly. He tugs on your hair until his tip smears against your cheek. You gasp in surprise, your tongue licking at him once more. You won’t dare admit it, but his cock is like a drug to you already.

“And for someone who has such a big mouth, my sweet girl, it seems that it cannot take me.”

“Once again, sir Blackwood, your arrogance gets in the way of the truth.”

“Then what are you waiting for?”

Before you can retort, his hand wrenches open your jaw. He places his cock on your tongue, sliding towards the back of your throat. You whine— your lips can only be stretched so far— but you let him, let him shove his length deep into the back of your warm mouth, his balls drawn up tight, eyes closing in ecstasy. His thighs lock around your throat and your hands curl tightly into his pants. You aren’t going to lose at this.

“Maybe you’ll prove me wrong,” he huffs, but not before he hears the loud gag emmiting from your throat. “Or mayhaps not. We shall see once I cum down that pretty throat.”

You clench. Spit pools down your chin. Benjicot— Ben— fists his hands into your hair as he fucks your throat, letting out tiny “mm”s everytime he hears the wet, gagging sound it emits. The thatch of dark hair at his base brushes against your nose, and you never knew a man could smell and taste this good.

“Aww,” He’s mocking, tightening his grip on your hair when one of your hands comes up to palm one of his balls. “The little Bracken princess is just a cockdrunk whore, isn’t she? Is that why you’ve been so mean as of late? Too embarrassed to admit how badly you crave this?”

The Bracken princess. A sick joke he taunts you with because of your low position. You want to hurt him, leave bruises in wake of your fists. But all you can do is gurgle on his length, and Ben laughs at the prospect.

“Don’t worry, poor thing. I’m going to set you straight,” one last harsh thrust, in which he purposely penetrates the deepest part he can reach. You can feel yourself dry heave, thick saliva in the back of your throat coming out to drench his cock. “Gods, why would I want my wife when I could have you?”

It’s at this that he finally yanks you off of him; you fall to the ground, and your hands go to your throat. Gasping for breath and sputtering, your pussy is absolutely drenched. Your hands unknowingly place themselves upon his ankle, steadying yourself and grappling some sense of self. Ben tilts his head. His eyes glitter with something unnamed— softness. He’ll never admit that, however, and they switch to nuance in a mere second.

“Turn around,” he says. He wraps a hand around his length and jerks it at the sight of your heaving chest, where your dress has fallen off your shoulder and your cleavage is exposed. “Whores don’t get fucked on their back. Nor do they get fucked in my bed.”

You know the real reason for this is so Alana won’t find the sheets soiled with your essence. You clench your jaw, rub your legs together to satiate the need pooling regardless of this dirty secret— and then you turn onto your hands and knees, right in the middle of the dark and dimly lit chamber. The ground is cold beneath you, and your cheek hits the stone floor. Your skirts falls to your waist.

It’s almost surprising, how quick you are with it— how needy. Ben can’t help but smile.

“Good girl.”

You whine at that, poking your ass out more. You just want him to slap it, lay his hands on it, claim you.

And that he does. He moves down to take his place behind you, unbuttoning his shirt and pulling it off his shoulders. Your underthings are the next item of clothing to be removed. Ben’s strong hands go to either side of the fabric, pretty pink lace and silk, and he rips the garment straight down the middle. Your fluttering cunt clenches around nothing, and with desperation your hands move behind you to spread yourself open.

If it were a different time— if you weren’t a Bracken, and Ben wasn’t a Blackwood— this would’ve happened under different circumstances. Ben would be your betrothed, or better yet, your husband. Not because of someone else’s choice, but your own.

But you can feel the scrape of the pin hooked onto Ben’s pants, the one with the symbol of house Blackwood that he’s worn ever since his thirteenth name day. So you lean towards him with every second that passes (it’s only five), and when he finally presses his drooling head against your entrance you let out a mewl.

“Ben.” you whine out, and he exhales sharply.

“Fuck.”

“I need you.”

“I know.”

The communication between the two of you, most of the time, has few words. The snarky comments are merely a mask.

You say nothing else as Ben sheathes himself inside you with only a few presses against your hips, one big hand splaying across your lower back and the other into your hair. Big cock be damned, the sensation of being filled has you whimpering, a drooling mess against the floor as he begins to move in and out of you.

“Gods,” Ben grunts. “Are you always this tight?”

“Are you..” you exhale sharply as he hits a certain spot in you that has your toes curling. “Are you always this gentle, Blackwood?”

He chuckles dryly.

“Gentle?”

It’s a mere few seconds before you reply. It’s always fun to challenge a Blackwood.

“Gentle.”

Your confirmation makes his jaw clench. He slams his hips forward, so suddenly that it almost knocks the air out of your lungs. His hands curl into your corset strings, tugging on them.

“This is what you want, isn’t it? For me to ruin this slut cunt?”

“Yes.” You breathe out, eyes rolling as his thrusts gain speed. You can’t do anything but take it, listening to the sound of skin slapping on skin and feeling his length throb deep inside you.

“Mm,” he hums, yanking on your corset harder. It tightens underneath his grip, and you gasp out. “How far would you let me go, I wonder?”

“Tread carefully.” you say, but the threat has no real weight to it. Ben runs his tongue over his bottom lip.

“And what would you do, now that you’re under me?” His mouth moves close to your ear, his weight pressing onto you. “You aren’t going anywhere, Little Bracken. Not while my hand still weighs upon you.”

He’s right. He’s bigger than you, stronger than you, but it isn’t just that that would keep you in place. If the man slipped his cock out of you right now, you would probably kill him.

You know that if you actually wanted to be rid of the situation, he would remove himself and never speak of it again. Why you believe this to be true so easily, you do not know. Perhaps you’ve always had a sixth sense for bad men— and as much as you hate Ben Blackwood, he is not one of them.

Your hips wiggle against him. You pout, trying to move out of his grip to make him angry, because you like the way he looks when he’s angry. He growls.

“Stop it.”

His grip on your wrist borders on bruising, just how you want it. He twists them behind your back and his thrusts speed up, if possible, the abuse on your little cunny so fast and so deep that tears pool in your eyes and you let out a sob.

“Putting all of this effort into pleasing you,” Ben huffs between thrusts. “Taking you away from my wedding, bedding you on my floor, and yet you’re still ungrateful.”

“I’m— I’m not—“

“Stubborn,” he lands a smack on your ass, the sting making you nearly jump out of you skin, “spoiled,” His hand curls into your hair and he yanks your body up so your back is arched against his chest. “a fucking brat.”

His tone makes you throb mercilessly, and your fingers move down to your pulsing cunt so you can rub your clit. But right when you get that sweet, delicious friction, Ben smacks your hand away. Instead, his thumb replaces your digits, rubbing harshly at the swollen bud. You buck your hips back, a whimper spilling out of your kiss bitten lips.

“Please, please—“

“Do you want to cum?”

You nod eagerly. He chuckles, arm wrapping loosely around your throat to hold you steady.

“Fine. Cum, Bracken, since you’ve been such a good girl.”

His control over you is uncanny. Your chest heaves as you reach your peak, pleasure coursing from the crown of your head down to your toes. You gasp out Ben’s name with utmost desperation as he massages you through your orgasm.

Your hand unknowingly brushes up against his hip bone, and you clench down on him. He swears— “seven, you fucking minx—“— and with one last harsh thrust, he spills his seed deep inside your warm, wet cunt. He lets out a moan at the feeling, right up against your ear; it makes your eyes roll back. You wonder why the most obnoxious men have to make the most beautiful sounds.

As he slows, your breaths intertwine into one. You can feel the soreness on your knees setting in and the sweat beading on your heaving breast. Ben clumsily slips out of you, groaning at the sight of his spend dripping out of your puffy entrance.

You attempt to move to your feet, but Ben grabs you gently by the shoulder.

“Wait,” he murmurs.

Your brows furrow, but you allow him to twist you around and push you onto your back. He spreads your legs, licking his lips at the sloppy mess splattered across your entrance. He wraps his hands around your thighs and lifts them up, letting you spread out more for him. You don’t know why you blush at the sight of him between your legs— it isn’t like this is the first time the both of you have let your bodies get the best of you.

He leans in, licking a long stripe up your slit, admiring the taste that spreads across his tongue. He pokes into your freshly gaped hole, nose brushing up against your overstimulated bundle of nerves, and breathes out a sigh of satisfaction. He isn’t rough, nor is he gentle— it seems that he’s cleaning you up.

You realize now that this is Benjicot Blackwood’s own personal version of aftercare.

He leans away from you when he’s done, and wipes away the remnants of his own release away with his sleeve. You avoid his gaze, eyes averting to the floor as you pull down your skirts and stand up on wobbly feet. You stumble over the fabric of your dress, and Ben catches you by the shoulders. His lips are still slick with release and you can feel your cunt spasm.

“I must be getting back,” he says, and you don’t know why your stomach churns at the idea of him bedding another woman tonight.

“Yes.”

“Alana will be waiting for me,” he pauses. “And you’re alright, I venture?”

You don’t understand why he’s bothering to check up on you. At your nod, he straightens himself and begins to head towards the door.

“Wait.”

Your voice comes out quieter than normal, an octave lower. Before Ben can reply, your mouth crashes onto his one last time in a rough, messy kiss. He reciprocates it eagerly, as if it’s only natural. You pull away when his teeth nick your bottom lip— a warning. Or a taunt. You do not know exactly which one.

You lick your lips at the loss, but not before they’re unknowingly turning into a pout as you take sight of Ben unlatching the door.

“Until next time, princess.”

—

general taglist:: @mysticpenguincreation @nightmare-niko @iheartinkonpaper @becauseseaotters @emmalandry @princesstiti14 @aerangi @kaithoughs @jamespotterismydaddy @wildgirllz

[romaevelizz]

˖ ࣪⊹Supervision

T. IIDA x Fem!reader ˖ ࣪⊹

Sum: Your class rep supervising you while studying, but even with supervision not a lot gets done..

Warnings: suggestive themes! Kissing, touchy feely stuff, fluff, not proofread.

.˚₊‧ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ‧₊˚.

“I don’t wanna do this..” your groaned your face falling into the book.

A sigh could be heard from next to you, you left your face turn making eye contact with the class pres. “ You have to be ready for tomorrow.” He spoke his hand adjusting his glasses.

“But it boring— what if-.” She started.

“No. You have notes to take Mr. Aizawa had I trusted me to supervise you. You’re the one who got in trouble Y/n.” He spoke.

It’s true you had gotten in trouble you might have been caught out past curfew, to be fair it wasn’t the most terrible study session Tenya was your boyfriend the only thing that made it bad was he was giving you the cold shoulder he was upset. You knew better even worse you got caught.

“I know, I’m sorry Ten…” you mumbled, your body scooting closer to him.

“You don’t have to apologize to me, you just have to follow the rules.” He spook, his red eyes looking at you.

He looked good upset, you hated he was upset at you but god did he look good. “Can I make it up to you some how..” you spoke your voice soft, your eyes till with his as your hands trailed up his thighs.

“No.” His voice hard as he grabbed your wrist.

You only rolled your eyes. “Don’t be like that..” you spoke leaning forward your face close to his.

His brow corked “we’re still at school behave.”

You smiled, his hands moving from your wrist to your elbows. “Just one..” you whispered standing up over him.

He knew what your were doing, he didn’t like it but again it was just you two, alone in an extra study room at the school.

“One.” He said.

“Yay!” You replied leaning down your hands meeting his face, your glossy lips meeting his soft ones.

And one turned into two, three, four oh and how you were on his lap. Tenyas hands pressing against your back, his lips intertwined with yours.

“I thought you just wanted one..” you spoke breathlessly.

“I did.”

“You pulled me into your lap Tenya.”

Only a grunt as he continued to kiss you his hands trailing down you back his big hands gripping your hips, his hands soon slipping under the sides of your skirt, his fingers digging into your flesh.

Your hips adjusting as he massagesed your hips. Your lips never leaving his.

“Behave.” He spoke, his hands holding your hips still.

The kissing became more intense and he forgot about holding your hips, the care for studying lefty iid as mind as he make out with you. The quiet moans you let out as you kissed rove him crazy. Safe to say he was gone, detaching himself he looked at you, your lipstick smudged all around his lips. “What? What’s wrong?” you asked your hands on his shoulders.

He shook his head taking off his glasses folding the placing them on the desk. Not saying a word, his lips quickly meeting yours again. Oh- oh that was hot, you thought holy fuck.

Sadly things were cut short when his little friends barged in Midoriya and Todoroki and long with a few others. You both sat there for a minute, Tenyas hangs under your skirt, his shirt and tie all messed up aswell and his hair messy. And to top it off your lipstick all around his mouth.

“IM SORRY!” Midoriya yelled closing the door quickly.

Iidas face lit up, him quickly standing you up placing you back in the chair in front of him. “I Cant believe that just happen, oh no!” He panicked.

Then his eyes landed on you who looked up at him so innocently, “this is your fault.”

“My fault your hard yes, not my fault your friends walked in.” You spoke leaning back in the chair fixing your skirt.

He looked at you dumbfounded his face getting even redder. “Y/N!”

You laughed gathering your books together standing up. “I’ll leave you, your stiffy and your study group be my times up!” You smiled, kissing his lips once more befor walking twords the door.

“Might wanna sit down so it can be seen as much love.” You spoke looking over your shoulder giving him a wink.

Opening the door you make eye contact Kaminari, “he’s all yours gentleman.” You spoke.

“You sure looked like you ate him alive.” Kaminari said pointing at your boyfriend who was still a mess particularly the lipstick.

“Oops! Bye boys!” You smiled walking off.

˖ ࣪⊹

“How did you end up with L/n.” Mineta said glaring at iida.

“Yeah thought you’d be into more goody two shoes.” Kaminari laughed.

“She can be a good girl, today wasn’t one of those days.” He spoke fixing his glasses glancing over at Midoriya who couldn’t look at him.

“Crazy.”

[writemekpop]

Make Up Sex | Lee Jeno

Summary: You've been hiding a big secret from your husband Jeno. What happens when he finds out?

Genre: Established relationship AU, angsty, suggestive, baby daddy Jeno

Word Count: 1k

A/n: We're baaaaaack! We're sorry it's been a while, so here have some juicy Jeno baby daddy angst xx requests are open!

It was past midnight when you got home from work. You felt terrible for missing Mac's bedtime for the fifth time this week.

Right now, all you wanted was to curl up in bed next to your husband Jeno and sleep for a year.

You tiptoed into the living room and set your bag down on the sofa. You flicked on the light, and saw Jeno sat at the dining table.

You yelped. "Jeno, what were you doing sitting in the dark?"

Jeno didn't reply. That's when you realised something was off with him. He was sat bolt upright, jaw clenched, hands balled up into fists.

Even though he was sat there in his blue polkadot pyjamas, he looked threatening. His dark hair framed his frown.

You edged closer. "What's the matter?"

Then you saw the bunch of folded letters in his hand. Your heart dropped into your stomach.

"Jeno, I can explain..."

Jeno met your eyes for the first time. His brown eyes were ice cold.

"When were you going to tell me about this?" He spat.

You pulled out the chair next to Jeno and sat down. You put your arm on his shoulder, but he flinched away from your touch.

Jeno shoved a piece of paper into your hands. "This is an offer letter for a job in Argentina."

You gulped.

Jeno flipped through the other letters. "It says here you applied six times." He said. "You applied for a job on the other side of the world six times and you didn't think to tell me about it once?"

You couldn't tell if Jeno looked more angry or just hurt.

"I was going to tell you..."

Jeno scoffed. "When? From the plane? Or were you just going to call me from... Rio or whatever the fuck the capital of Argentina is."

"I didn't think I'd actually get in..."

Jeno rolled his eyes.

You frowned. "You know, this is actually a really big deal. This is one of the most prestigious jobs in the world for a conservation biologist. Why can't you just be proud of me?"

Jeno stood up, the chair screaming against the wooden floor. He bowed dramatically.

"Congratulations, Y/n."

Tears pricked your eyes. "You don't have to be sarcastic."

Jeno stormed out of the living room, slamming the door.

You winced, tiptoeing behind him. "Shh, you'll wake Mac!" You eyed the door to the nursery, which was ajar.

"So now you remember we have a son! Are you just going to deprive your toddler of his mother for a whole year?"

"It's actually a two year programme..." you said, eyeing the carpet.

Jeno tugged his hand through his hair. "Well that's just perfect."

You followed Jeno into the bedroom.

"You know, Y/n. Normal people have affairs. They don't sneak off behind their partner's back and get a job a thousand miles away."

You slumped onto the bed, sighing. "Jeno, I just feel like I'm wasting away at my current job. I know I was made for some thing bigger. The project I'll be working on is to create an entirely new source of green energy. We could change the world."

Jeno sat down beside you on the bed. "I didn't know you hated your job."

You edged closer to Jeno, closing the gap between you and him on the bed. You tentatively touched his arm. He didn't push you away this time.

You traced your fingers up his biceps, across his neck and settled on his cheek. Jeno shut his eyes and leaned his face into your hand.

You looked as his dark eyelashes, and his plump lips. You just wanted to kiss his pain away.

Jeno kept his eyes squeezed shut as he spoke. "To me, you and Mac are my whole world. Are we not enough for you?" His voice cracked. "Am I not enough for you?"

You gulped. You knew what the answer was, but somehow, the words wouldn't come out.

You held Jeno's face in your hands. Then you leaned forwards and kissed him, hard.

Jeno grunted in surprise, but he quickly started to kiss you back. His large hands found your waist, and he pulled you onto his lap, so that you were straddling him.

You drank up Jeno's taste, the faint peach scent of his shampoo, the feel of his hard body underneath you.

You broke the kiss for a second, and pullled your shirt off. You unclasped your bra. The look in your husband's eyes was close to feral.

You were used to slow and gentle love making, with lots of soft smiles and giggles. This was completely different. Your entire body felt alight.

Jeno yanked off his own top. You eyed his muscled body, mouth watering. He picked you up in one arm and dropped you on the centre of the bed. He lay himself on top of you.

You kissed his neck whilst he took off the rest of your clothes.

Jeno dived between your legs, making you gasp.

--

After, you lay with your head on Jeno's chest. You were both still naked. The rhythmic thumping of Jeno's heart calmed your haywire nerves.

After a while of comfortable silence, Jeno cleared his throat.

"We're going to have to get Mac some sunglasses, for when we come down to visit. I hear it's pretty sunny in Argentina."

You shot up and turned to look at Jeno. His dark fringe was coveirng his eyes, and his cheeks were flushed.

"You're okay with me going?" You exclaimed.

Jeno sat up too. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into a hug.

"You should have told me sooner," Jeno said. "But... of course I'm happy for you. I always knew you were going to change the world. I'm sorry about how I reacted."

You couldn't stop the tears from falling down your cheeks. You buried your head in his shoulder and cried.

"I love you," you said, between sobs. "I'm sorry for keeping this from you."

Jeno wiped your tears away with his thumbs. He smiled. "Has anyone told you you're an ugly crier?"

You snorted. Jeno started to laugh, which made you laugh too. The tension in the room melted away, leaving only love.

You ran a finger down the centre of Jeno's chest, making him shudder with pleasure.

Jeno pulled the blanket over you both. "Two years isn't that long, when you think about it. Not when we've got forever."

"You helpless romantic, you..."

Let us know what you thought in the comments or on anon! 💋

—

MAIN MASTERLIST

[lymtw]

hello hello! i don’t know if you’re comfortable with writing this, but if so are you open to writing a toji x reader fic involving period sex? thank you!!! and p.s. i love your writing 😫❤️

A/N: Thank you for reading my works ☺️🫶🏼 I am totally comfortable writing this! I should really put up a post with my do's and don't's. I'll get to that as soon as I find the motivation 😃👍 Anyways, thank you for sending in this request 💙

| cw: period sex |

You don't like making a scene out of that time of the month when it comes to spending time with Toji. You don't like mentioning it to him, so whenever he wants to start removing clothes with you during that time, you always make up some excuse. You say you're not in the mood or that you're too tired or that you can help him out, but that's all, and thank god he never pushes it. He would rather take what you offer him or suck it up and bear the horniness in silence, than make you uncomfortable.

Toji knows the basics of basics of menstruation. He knows that you bleed out of your vagina for a few days, and that often times, it's an uncomfortable and painful time for your body. He knows that the fluctuations of your hormones brings on mood swings, and that you have to buy certain products to prevent you from getting blood everywhere.

"Ma," he calls, as soon as he walks through the door of your apartment. He's holding a bag of food in each of his hands. Food that you were craving and requested for him to pick up once he finished his job. Your door was unlocked so he knows you're not out, but you didn't answer him. He put the food down on the dining room table and went on to look for you. He didn't have to look too hard, because you were in your bedroom, the first room he checked.

"Doll?" He calls, again. "I brought the food you asked for. Don't you wanna eat?" He watches you from the doorway. You look down, very much so, and he knows there's something wrong because you answered him with the smallest shake of your head. He hates seeing you all curled up and seemingly lifeless like this. Your body is drowned by one of his hoodies and you're wearing your baggiest sweatpants. Though it looks comfortable, it's way too hot for you to be so covered up. He makes his way over to your bed and sits beside you. "What's up, mama? Why aren't you hungry, anymore?" He gently squeezes your hip a couple times, hoping maybe it'll make you turn to face him, but you don't. You stay curled up.

"My stomach hurts," you say, unsure of whether he heard you or not. All you know is that if he asked you to repeat yourself, you wouldn't out of frustration. You would just shake your head and go back to hurting in silence.

"Did you eat something bad?" He pauses, a small smile curling onto his lips as something else comes to mind. "Baby... have you eaten anything at all, today?" He knows sometimes you forget to eat because you get so distracted by everything else you have going on, and that pit in your stomach often makes you nauseous.

"No, it's not that. I'm on my period." You internally cringe at the use of the word. Despite the power behind being able to put up with this every single month, you can't help but feel fragile and weak at the thought of letting Toji in on it.

"Oh, doll... You should've told me this before. I would've showed up with much fuller hands." He lays on his side, and wraps his body around yours. His leg goes over yours and his hand goes beneath your hoodie and presses against your stomach. "So, your guts are mad that I didn't put a baby in you?" He says, into your back.

"Yeah, a bit," you say, thinking of the stomach clutching cramps you've had for the past couple hours.

"Damn, that's terrible. What about you, huh? Are you mad that I didn't put a baby in you?" He asks, a smile on his lips forming through the unserious question.

You can't deny that, occasionally, you've wondered what your DNA would look like mixed with Toji's in the form of a child. You always envision the cutest little boy with Toji's intense, green eyes and your beautiful hair, and Toji's sharp nose, and your pretty skin tone. You think of how much you would love him, and how you would take on that role of being a devoted and loving mother. You think of how attached you would become to the little munchkin, enough to assume that you would be the one crying on his first day of school, not your child.

"Of course not. I'm not ready to be a mom," you respond, lowly.

Toji would be lying if he said he didn't see himself having kids with you. He often imagines how you would look holding a baby girl that shares a mixture of his and your features. Part of him hopes that your graceful beauty shines, prominently, through those tiny features, but he also knows that it wouldn't be the end of the world if the child ended up looking more like him. To see you holding a mini him would heal something that runs deep in his soul. Regardless of whether your child looks like him or you or it's the perfect blend of both of you, he knows that he'll be begging to cradle them again and again, even if they are the reason he'll be losing sleep. He'll lunge towards them when they stumble and fall, he'll soothe them when they can't sleep, and he'll bear with the messiness and the unstable emotions.

"Good, 'cause..." he sighs and coils even tighter around you. You're starting to feel hot with all those heavy layers on and the additional source of heat that clings to you from behind. "I need to keep you to myself for a much longer while. I can't imagine sharing you with someone else." He smiles when you laugh quietly at the small poke offered to your stomach. "At least, not right now, 'kay?"

"Yeah, okay," you respond, genuinely glad that he feels the way he does. You don't feel ready to take that enormous step either.

"I know that means your periods will keep coming every month, but I can help you in any way you ask me to. You just have to let me know, mama." His voice conveys sincerity and concern. He's serious about you, but he can't stand being shut out like this on things that pertain to your wellbeing.

You wiggle out of his hold and flip over to face him. You smile at him as best you can, despite the storm you feel in your stomach.

"You look small, doll." He chuckles at the way you bring a sleeved hand towards his face. The sleeves of his hoodie are enormous and puffy around your arms.

"Yeah... your sweater was the only thing that was helping, earlier. I felt like the cramps were gonna kill me so I curled up in this because it smells like you."

His smile is so soft. He loves hearing that he was your best source of comfort while you were in pain. "Well, i'm here, now, so you can take that off and curl up with the real thing."

"Mm..." you drop your hand to his chest. "This is keeping me warm and it fits huge on me, so i'm comfortable."

"Come on. I'm warmer and I fit so much bigger on you than this." He grabs the material of his sweater and extends it away from your waist, before letting it go and watching it melt back into a bulky pile on you. "Yeah, this is nothing compared to me, doll. When i'm on top of you, you completely disappear."

You sigh, as if he isn't tempting you at all, but you can already picture the warmth of his body heat and it sounds absolutely divine. "Fine, fine," you grumble, sitting up to pull off the enormous blanket you had been wearing for the past three hours and tossing it towards the end of your bed.

"So, that's why you didn't wanna take it off?" He's no better than the strangers who ogle your body when he takes you out for a date night. Your chest is holding his attention like a puppy with its favorite toy.

"Told you I was comfortable," you say, fixing the twisted strap of your bra before laying back down.

"Did you not want me to see you like this?" He asks, feeling the bare skin of your waist beneath his palm.

"I just feel really gross, Toji. I showered twice and I still feel like I stink, my skin isn't clear, and my body hurts. I never want you to see me this way, but I can't stay away from you every time I go through this."

He sees this as the perfect moment for him to become your heat radiating weighted blanket, and he seizes the opportunity, splaying over you like a net before contracting his limbs around you. He really is bigger than that hoodie with the way he makes your entire body vanish beneath his.

"This..." you laugh, the sound coming out a little choppy due to the newly added weight. "...is much better," you say, your voice a little strained.

"Listen," he says. What he wants to say to you is really important, and he needs you to absorb the information as clearly as possible, so he thinks it's best if his lips are right beneath your ear, just so you don't miss a word he says. "You smell reallyyy good, but you shouldn't be scrubbing your skin raw with too many showers. Also, I didn't even notice the little pimples on your skin 'til you pointed them out. Not that it matters to me, but your skin will clear up in a couple days." He grins at the little giggles that leave you and the slight shake of your shoulders that accompany the sound. "And about the pain... just tell me what you need and I'll get it for you. Anything but a heating pad, because I like whaling on you like this." He pulls away and takes note of the beaming smile on your face. "You heard all of that, right?" He asks, making sure you're not just letting his words go over your head.

"Mhm." You hum, in response. Your hands cup his jaw and pull him closer to you. You pause when he's mere centimeters away from you and just look up at him, adoration clear in your eyes. His gaze flits between your eyes and your lips. You've always been so enticing and appealing to him, regardless of the nonsensical remarks you make about yourself. Toji has every intention of proving that he'll love you the same all the time. This time of the month is no exception.

With a lick to his bottom lip, he takes the leap and kisses you first. You smile as his lips move slowly and gently in tandem with yours. You feel a lot better with Toji around. It feels like he actually melted away your cramps with his presence. You can enjoy him because the pain in your stomach isn't as intense anymore.

He can feel the change in pace of your affection. You're kissing him faster, your hands are balling up the back of his shirt, and your breathing is getting heavier. He decides to take it step further and slides his hands beneath the cups of your bra.

"Does that hurt?" He asks, knowing that it's possible that your breasts feel tender.

"Not at all. Please, keep going. You can even squeeze a little harder," you say, a small laugh following.

"Alright, baby. You wanna take your bra off so I can get in there real good?"

You're a little nervous about where this is headed. You can feel the neediness growing between your thighs, and him touching your breasts like that is only fueling the flame. You don't know if he's innocently trying to soothe the tenderness that vanished a day before the waterfall of blood began or if he's just trying to cop a feel. All you know is that it feels good and that it's a risky decision to take your bra off even if you've already decided to remove it.

"Yeah, I'll take it off," you say, using your elbows to assist you in sitting up. He sits back on his knees as you reach behind you, towards the clasps of your bra. You take a little longer when you notice how he's staring at your chest in anticipation, practically hypnotized as he waits for you to free your tits. You swear you saw his tongue peek out to lick his bottom lip. Those naturally bright eyes of his are dark, the color almost entirely swallowed whole by his enlarged pupils. You have to try not to laugh at how strong his focus is as the cups slide down your chest and the strap ride down your arm.

"Fuuuck, look at you." He's practically drooling as he reaches his hand out to touch. He instantly feels the warmth and softness of your right breast engulf his hand. "You've got a really pretty body, doll. You know I love taking care of it," he purrs, crawling back onto you. You're pushed back onto the bed. Your head falls into the pillows, and you're instantly surrounded by Toji. He leans down, his lips brushing over your jaw while his hands busy themselves with your breasts. "You can't scare me off with a little bit of blood, pretty girl. You can't scare me off at all," he murmurs, letting his lips roam towards your neck. He rolls your buds between his fingers, smirking at the way you shudder at the more intense stimulation. "That feel good?" He asks, hearing the low hums coming from you.

"Mhm... it does." Your cunt throbs with need as he continues tweaking your nipples, brushing them with his thumbs, rolling them with index fingers before pressing them a little. He sucking on that sensitive spot on your neck, really putting in the work to make you want him, badly. "T-Toji..." you whimper.

"Yeah, I know, sweet girl. Just wanna help you feel better." A deep chuckle rumbles through his chest at the feeling of you squeezing your thighs around his waist, chasing friction for your needy cunt. "Need some help with that? Want me to rub your little clit?"

You're too distracted by the pleasure you derive from grinding against his lower abdomen to notice his hand leaving one of your breasts and trailing down your stomach. Just as his fingers go beneath the waistband of your sweatpants, you snap out of your daze.

"No, wait- That's dirty," you say, scooting backwards.

"What are you talking about?" He asks, rhetorically. "It's a part of you. I don't care if any part of me gets covered in your blood."

You look away from him, flustered by his admission. You've never allowed him to touch you down there while you're on your period. This might have been the first time you've directly told him about it, too, so before then, he was just left to assume.

"I'm not a pea brained little boy, and you're not gross for this, baby. Just let me help you feel better."

You contemplate it for a few seconds. You've never done it like this before. The mess would be extreme. You'll be overthinking the things that run through his mind the entire time. Would you even be capable of getting into the mindset necessary to enjoy it when you're so worried about what Toji's thinking?

"Please, mama. Let me make you feel good." He runs a hand over your shin, hoping to soothe your nerves about this.

Your thoughts were starting to loop from how much you were overthinking it. A whole lot of 'what is Toji going to think?' and 'what if he can't go through with it after seeing all of it?' swirling around in your head. The thoughts were going nowhere but down, so you eventually just let yourself go. "Okay," you respond. "Can I just have a minute before we..." you raise your brows, allowing the gesture to finish your sentence.

"Yeah, of course. Take your time." He retracts his hand, allowing you to rise off the bed and make your way to the bathroom.

You're nervous. You don't know what would compel Toji to want to do something like this. You'll accept that it's for your benefit, but what does he gain from this apart from getting a blood covered dick? You know he won't put on a condom. He practically whines every time you tell him to either put a condom on or pull out. Neither of those options are viable for him, so he sweet talks you until you let him go in raw and cum inside you. He always thanks you for staying on birth control. His appreciation is genuine, too. It's not just some douchey speech where he says 'thank you for taking pills so I don't have to stress about cumming inside you'. It's a real, hug and kiss, 'I love you' deserving, appreciation.

You walk out of the bathroom after removing your menstrual product, wearing just the panties you had on and your darkest colored towel wrapped around your hips. That pair of underwear is not your prettiest pair, so you're fine with ruining them so that you don't ruin your carpet on your walk back to the bed.

"Everything alright?" Toji asks, eyes glued on you the second the bathroom door opened.

"Yeah. All good," you assure, sitting on the edge of the bed. You felt as anxious as you did the first time you and Toji had sex together. It was visible in the way you kept your eyes on your folded hands and how you toyed with your thumbs.

"Don't be nervous, baby. It's just like every other time." He smiles at you as you continue to stare at your lap. "You wanna put the towel down?"

"Oh, yeah." The second the towel is unwrapped from your lower body, you feel your anxiety double, knowing that the stain on your underwear is visible. He can see you crossing your legs to try and hide the stain. It's cute, but futile, since he'll see it much more clearly in a few seconds. You're unnecessarily straightening the corners, as if the towel isn't going to be moving around once things get going.

"Good. Now, lay down for me," Toji instructs, the words making your heart drop. "Need you to get all comfortable."

You hesitantly crawl onto the towel and lay on your stomach, concealing the stain on the front of your underwear.

"Flip over, doll. Wanna look at that pretty face." He can tell you're doing everything you can to hide what he expected and already saw. You flip onto your back and cross your legs. "Come on, pretty girl. Don't be embarrassed. It's just me."

You sigh and uncross your legs. Seconds go by and your cheeks are scorching, embarrassment coursing through you so fluidly, not knowing that the sight makes Toji feral. The color, the fact that you're free bleeding and the stain is growing as time goes by, the shame it brings you from not being able to stop it. It's all going straight to his dick. It was already straining in his boxers, but now it's throbbing.

"Good girl," he praises, running his hands up and down your thighs. You feel hot under his gaze. He's not making his attention to your stained underwear subtle at all. You just want to put a pillow over your head and let him do what he has planned.

"You're so cute," he says, reaching a hand towards the loud color between your thighs. He feels the warm wetness beneath his thumb as he tests the waters and rubs your clit through the scarlet tainted garment. He watches you squirm at the touch, your stomach rising and falling erratically at the stimulation. "So warm, baby." He can see the color adhering to the edges of his thumb as he continues to stroke your throbbing clit.

"Toji..." you gasp.

"Yeah, baby. I know."

The smallest pinch between your brows appears as the stimulation continues. It's slow enough to keep you comfortable, but you want more, so you attempt to trap his hand between your thighs so that you can get off on it.

"Open, doll. Keep your pretty legs open for me." He grins at the shuddered breath you release as you release his hand.

"P-Please, Toji. Please, more," you whimper, feeling yourself get closer and closer to your peak.

He's notices how the blood reached higher up the front of your underwear. Right over where he's rubbing your clit, the material is soggy beneath his fingers.

"I'm gonna make you cum all you want, but not like this," he says, abruptly stopping the movement of his fingers. He bows forward and kisses from your slightly heaving mid-center to your lower abdomen. The irony smell of your blood is heavier as he nears the elastic of your panties.

"Let's get these off," he murmurs, hooking his fingers into the garment. Your heart is racing all over again at the thought of him seeing the whole thing, uncensored. The uncontrollable drip of your blood, the messy aftermath of it being smeared and played with by his fingers over the thin barrier of your underwear. It's not presentable, compared to what he got from you every moment before this one. Far from it, but he proceeds with his fearless curiosity, dragging your panties down your hips and thighs, above your knees and swiftly down the rest of the way. He puts them down beside you on the towel before carrying on with you.

In no way would he ever try to embarrass you over something like this, especially since he knows you're more emotionally sensitive right now and even the smallest amount of teasing might hit a little harder than intended. He looks at the overload of red smeared all over your cunt, on the folds, lathered over and through your slit, and streaked over your inner thighs. All he can think about is how cursed you must feel every once in a while to have to go through this every month. He's not stupid enough to think alike to those men who say they would bear the pain a lot better than women and that it's nothing compared to being kicked in the balls. He would take the pain for you in a heartbeat, but since science hasn't progressed so far to make that option a reality, he'll do what he can to help you in other ways.

You watch, intently, as Toji observes what he's seen plenty of times before. You feel different from every one of those times, despite him telling you that this time will be no different. You feel like your heart is about to lurch from your chest because all he's doing is looking. You know it's unappealing. You would give yourself to him entirely clean in this moment if you could.

"I wanna bury my face in there so badly. You know that?" He's so hard at the sight. His dick is twitching at the thought of using his tongue to clean you up. "I'll make it up to you in a couple days," he says, working his constricting boxers off. "Gonna feast on you. Hold these pretty thighs back when you try to crush my skull."

You don't think you've ever felt so withheld by him. Here he is, about to fuck you during one of the few days you refrain from letting him touch you this way, while talking about how badly he wants to devour you. You wouldn't call it unfair of him to tease you with this promise, he just has no other choice. Normally, his mouth is the first thing he gives you when things are getting hot and heavy, but for now, he can only use that mouth to kiss you and verbalize his desire.

"Don't look so nervous, doll," he says, his voice honeyed and his touch gentle on your skin, like he's shooing away all those negative thoughts that threaten your ability to enjoy this. "This is me taking care of you."

Toji did a good job of making you forget that this wasn't just normal sex. You were fed assurance, visually, audibly, and tactically. The second he thrusted into you and felt your incredibly warm and wet walls cling around him, his gaze darted up to meet your eyes. He looked back down for a split second when his hips pulled back, just to see the way you coated his shaft.

He understands that this is intense for you, that you're presenting yourself in a vulnerable state to him, but he's determined to make you understand that he will always try for you. It comes down to him knowing your wants and needs, and when they aren't so transparent, he counts on you to trustfully tell him about the things he can't openly assume.

He's overly generous with your pleasure, going on and on for you, chasing your orgasms with no intention of stopping until you tell him you've had enough. "Come on..." he groans, a deep chuckle following when he sees the way your arms are thrown over your face. "Come on, doll. Give me some attention." He's saying this because he's about to cum, again. He wants to look at you as he spews another load into you. He wants to see the expression on your face when you feel his cum overfill you, again. You lift your arms above your head and expose the way your chest heaves even more to him, but more importantly, the weary and glassy eyes he loves so much.

"Yeah, fuck... Just give me those eyes for a while, gorgeous." He's panting and his hips are stuttering as he stares you down, his lust-filled gaze giving you the illusion of being pressed into the mattress. One hand splays over your waist while the other focuses on nudging at your clit.

The added stimulation makes you jolt beneath his touch. It's heavenly and you want more, and you're right there. "F-Fuck... Fuck, please... Please!" you beg, feeling like you're melting beneath his touch. Your nails dig into the pillow beneath your head in an attempt to stay still for him.

"I know, mama. I know. I got you," he coos through choppy breaths, rubbing your clit fast enough to have you squirming against him. He watches dazedly as fresh crimson decorates his fingertips, anew. The pace of his hips becomes sporadic with his own peak nearing. He's about to bust again with the way your gummy, lubricated walls snuggly wrap around him.

With just a couple more thrusts and the ongoing stimulation offered to your clit, you gush all over him again, a mixture of your cum and blood rushing out of you and onto him before dripping onto the towel beneath you. "Oh my- T-Toji, oh fuck!" Your back arches off the bed, your head thrown back into the pillow as you cry out in pure ecstasy.

Toji is pulling you into his quickened thrusts, putting your tired, pretty body to work so that he can finish, too. He's following after you just a minute later, a deep, growl-like groan leaving him as more of his thick cum is shot into your ruined cunt. His chest rises and falls, long, heavy breaths exhaled through his parted lips. his neck glistens with sweat and dampened strands of hair stick to his forehead.

"How are your guts?" He asks, his words still somewhat breathy as he works to recompose himself after pulling out of you.

"Good," you respond, echoing back that tiredness. "Out of place, but good. That... that did it. No more pain." You think that if you shut your eyes for longer than ten seconds, you'll doze off. As if Toji would let you wake up feeling dirtier than you did before you let him get his hands on you.

"Hey," he calls, tapping your outer thigh. You hum in disapproval of having to open your eyes again. "Doll, we have to get you cleaned up." He taps you again.

"Five minutes," you whine, shutting your eyes tightly before pulling the pillow out from beneath your head and throwing it over your face.

"None of the whining, mama. It's for the best and you know it." He doesn't go on because you don't respond, presumably dozed off. He pulls the pillow off your face and becomes the target of your pointed gaze when light floods your vision again. "I'm not gonna stop bugging you until you get up." He's fighting the urge to tease you about wanting a kiss for that alluring pout on your lips. "Don't you wanna take a nice and cool shower with me?"

"I'm stuck," you groan, exaggeratedly dropping your arm after your feigned weak attempt to move more than a couple inches. "Can't... move."

"Your level of drama outshines the best actors, doll. I see right through it."

You can't even hold back a giggle at that. You clutch your chest and continue on with the theatrics. "Ouch. My stomach doesn't hurt anymore, but there's suddenly a really sharp pain in my chest. So, this is what taken back love feels like, huh?"

Toji snickers at the sound of your pathetic words as he crosses the ends of the towel over your lower body. Once the towel is wrapped securely, his arm goes beneath your knees, and the other settles on your lower back. With one swift motion, he lifts you off the bed and starts for the bathroom. He knew you had no intention of moving on your own, so he took the initiative. "Now you're a poet? You would never make it through heartbreak poetry." He looks down at you with a sly grin. "You would be making it all up, because you know how much I love your dramatic self."

You laugh. "Yeah... i'll never be a heartbreak poet." You don't sound like you're at a loss at all. You said it with a smile on your face. You've never been more happy to have lost a path like that.

"That's too bad, isn't it?"

[anadiasmount]

missed you - jb blurb

quick sum: coming back from a short work/ girls trip back to your little family where everything seems meant to be.

masterlist | jude’s masterlist

“eva sit still baby,” jude chuckled as he saw his almost one year old kick in her high chair, noticing the plate of food made for her. “we just bathed and dressed you i don’t want you to get dirty again,” he set the food in front of her along with a sippy cup filled with her favorite juice.

jude blew on the food that’s as still hot, making sure it was cool before feeding her. it was exact like this for the past 5 days without you. jude couldn’t denied and he missed you terribly, more than eva. he hated the house without you, that laugh, loud screams from time to time, you next to him in bed. it felt strange and he had been shown what it like when he’s not there.

the first night was rough, eva fussy and it was clear she missed you. she could sense it wasn’t her mommy when jude tried to rock her to sleep, and was awake most of the night waiting for you. yet as the second and third night passed by she accepted and laid in your spot in her daddies arms. safe and sound.

jude struggled. you were his missing piece. the first day he arrived late to training since he was used to you waking him up, and he always forgot something whether it was an items or a belonging of eva. in every phone call you could hear the sadness and tiredness in his voice, which made you feel guilty but jude reassured you to have the bestest fun because you deserved it.

he needed you desperately and he couldn’t wait for you to get home. they both did.

“is it yummy?” he scrunched his nose as eva nodded her head and gave him a kissy face. “it’s not like mommy’s food but i tried my best,” he fed her once again, cleaning the corners of her mouth to avoid it spreading down and getting messy. “you miss her too don’t you?” he loved talking to her. jude was a known yapper, he spoke to eva when she was in your belly and don’t even get started now that she was learning and comprehending words.

“i missed both of you.”

jude snapped his head around quickly, eva yelping and kicking in her chair when she heard you. jude was first to greet you, giving eva her final bite before lunging towards you and pulling you into a messy kiss. he didn’t care, his girl was back in his arms and that’s all that mattered. he held your face giving you kisses on your cheeks, bridge of nose and temple. giving you all the attention you lacked from.

you ushered to eva who gave you a toothy smile as she called out for you. you gently removed her from the high chair, sighing a breath of relief when you held your babygirl, her head finishing home on your shoulder and her chunky arms wrapping around your neck. “oh my. i’ve missed you both so so much,” you walked towards jude hugging his middle, your head finishing home in the crook of his neck.

“we’re so glad to have you back my love,” jude replied, rubbing his hand against your back.

jude advised you to go freshen up, as he packed and cleaned the kitchen from the dinner mess. eva rested on his hip as he gently cleaned her mouth with warm water to remove any excess food she had after eating a small cookie. he prepared her night bottle and changed her into her night onsie. “mamma?” he looked down to see her almost close to sleeping yet yearing for you.

“i’m right here baby,” you kissed jude’s shoulder before going both of them on the couch. eva crawling into your hold and immediately fell asleep. jude asked you many questions about what you did, how it went, wanting to know everything as if he was there. and you made sure to give him every ounce of love because you missed him terribly.

“i see what you go through now when i’m not here,” you heard jude say softly not wanting to wake up eva. jude rested his head on your shoulder, “what do you mean?” you ask looking down to see his big brown eyes staring right into yours. “i now know what it’s like when it’s only the two of you here and i’m away on england break or away games,” was all he said.

“you did an amazing job jude,” you assured him, “i know it can get difficult and you feel the need to give up, but you were killing two birds at once. you had training yet also had dad duties. and that can be alot on your plate...” you kissed his temple, ushering him to lay on your lap, adjusting eva’s chunky feet so her daddy could lay comfortably as well.

“i can’t explain how much i missed you,” jude laughed almost embarrassed because you knew he was being needy. but jude was that attached and in love with you. “it didn’t feel the same without you here. it felt empty, i didn’t have anyone to talk to besides eva, and my mom. i just wanted you here,” jude admitted. you pouted at your man, knowing he was trusting you with his vulnerability.

“i don’t know if it was just me but anywhere i went i was looking for you. you and eva were my only thoughts everyday. i was seeing delulu thinking you were there. i had to cuddle with y/f/n because i’m so used to it,” you joked earring a laugh from him. “we both needed each other,” you sealed. the two of spoke quietly as you finished your tea, watching your soap opera together.

“did any guys come up to you?”

“really jude?”

“what i need to know.”

“yes… many did,” you lied. but not really because there was few who approached you.

“excuse me? what do you mean?”

“relax i told them you were my husband…” you laughed, shushing eva when she twitched her sleep, cuddling closer to you. “good.”

“and that i had a kid.”

“even better.”

“jude?”

“hmm?”

“im messing with you…”

“oh my god.”

[mrsparrasblog]

Barracks Baby

Summary: After sleeping with four of your fellow teammates, you need to navigate through pregnancy and finding out who the Baby Daddy is

You should have listened to your mother, was all you thought when you looked at that bloody positive stick in your hand. Your mother always said, "Don’t whore around; you’re going to end up pregnant and unwed. Keep your virginity until marriage," blah blah blah.

What your mom didn’t tell you were the effects of living on a military base. You wouldn’t call yourself a barracks bunny—you only slept with four guys; there must be more to it for earning that title. And who could judge you? Everyone would if they could. These four men were everything every other man lacked on earth. No one could make you cum as many times as John could, no one could make you feel so stupid like Simon could, no one was as pretty and nice as Kyle—fucking him in any other position than missionary would be a crime against humanity—and no one had as much stamina as Johnny; he could go for at least six rounds, shove a protein bar between your pouty lips, and go four more.

You weren’t sure what to do. That was a lie—you always wanted kids, just not like this, not in this situation, without knowing who the baby daddy is, being employed by the military, and best of all, being broke. Of course, you could call your best friend Conny; she would always support you with the baby, but even she couldn’t help you break the news to the boys.

Your mother would probably kill you—no, she wouldn’t, but she would tell you all about eating liver sprinkled with fish oil, quitting your job, and getting into a relationship with that loser Mark you once dated. He would still take you after being knocked up, but how could you return to that after having these four guys?

You needed to tell them; you knew it. There was no other way around this situation. Maybe one of them would step up. You were sure if it was Price's baby, he would support you mentally and financially, though your military career would be destroyed. Simon would be a different story; he hated kids—or at least that’s what you thought. He never wanted them, never anything more than a fling. Johnny would be the safest choice; he would take care of you, step up, marry you, and make you a cute housewife in the Highlands. No more working sounded good right now to you. Kyle was a wildcard; he would support you—he was a good guy—but he never spoke about kids. He could either love them or hate them.

You stood up; it was enough time sitting on the toilet and overthinking. You walked outside, gripping the stick tightly and holding it against your stomach, trying to hide it from the rookies walking past you. They had too much fun; if you were with Simon right now, you’d make them run laps for smiling. Rookies aren’t there to be happy; they are there to suffer. Fuck, you’re going to be a terrible mom, you thought. You treated rookies badly, you forgot to feed your hamster once, and you’re only good at shooting and fucking—what will you teach this kid? The anxiety inside of you only grew bigger with every passing second.

You reached the meeting room, sat down, and sighed as you took out your phone, scrolling until you found the Group chat 141 + Hot Stuff. You remembered how Johnny changed it after you joined and how the Lt. threw a fit over it.

You: Important things to discuss, please come to the meeting room, now.

Daddy <3: Everything okay?

Emo Boy: Affirmative

Pretty Boy: Can I finish the set?

Bubbles: It’s 7 am, I’m not coming

You: NOW

With that, everyone agreed. You weren’t sure how to break the news. "Hey, I’m pregnant; it might be any one of you. Surprise, Daddy!" wasn’t a good idea. Leaving the pregnancy test out on the table as if it were a loaded gun wasn’t a good idea either. Well, you had to admit it was like a round of Russian roulette, just more deadly.

Simon was the first to join. He looked at you as if he knew but kept his mouth shut. After a few minutes, everyone was sitting at the table, looking at you in confusion. You never called a meeting; it would be uncalled for as a Sergeant anyway.

"Why are we here, Bonnie?" Soap destroyed the silence you had hidden yourself in.

You could talk now, explain it, or say anything to make it sound better, but all you could say was a miserable, "I’m pregnant."

Shocked expressions would be an understatement. John tugged on his beard, Johnny lost the color from his face, Kyle looked as if he were a teenager caught past curfew, and Simon’s expression was unreadable to you.

"I’m not sure who the father is among you four," the second bomb went off.

"How could that happen?" was all Johnny said.

"Yes, how could that happen," you spat out sarcastically.

"Babe, please let me cum inside, need you raw." "Let Daddy breed you, Sweetheart, need you all full for me." "The condom broke again, Bonnie." "I’ll pull out, love." Yes, how could that have happened?

"I’m out of this shit," Ghost’s words cut deeper than a knife as he stood up and left without another word. By your luck, he was probably the Dad.

"My mother is going to kill me."

"You’re 28, Gaz, no one’s going to kill you. You’re not a bloody teenager anymore."Price spoke in a stern voice.

"Oh."

"Yes, oh."

"I’ll give you financial support if it is mine or if you want to get rid of it," when you thought Ghost's words hurt, then Price killed you. He made you on the edge of breaking down—correction, you broke down. The tears in your eyes already streamed down your cheeks; damn hormones. Price looked at you in guilt. He wanted to speak up, but Johnny went first.

"That’s fucking great news, Bonnie. If it’s mine, oh God, I always wanted a wee bairn. Think of him looking like me, or getting twins—the MacTavish genes are pretty strong. We’re getting a wee lad, probably a 10-pounder like me."

Ten pounds—that’s a whole ass turkey. You didn’t even get the chance to excuse yourself before you ran outside, throwing up again. "Fuck, what did I get myself into?"

[darylbae]

Daryl and breath play <3

Imagine him choking you out from behind as he roughly fucks up into you after you fucked up yet *another* resource run; drool running down your chin as you babble incoherently as his thick cock splits you open so wonderfully!

there ain't no god here — daryl dixon🩰

in which you mess up on a run, and daryl has had enough

note: SMUT WARNING! do not consume this content if you are under the age of 18, i am not liable for you reading past this point.

warnings: rough sex, dirty talk, bad writing.

You and Daryl have never had a nice relationship. From the moment the pair of you met, you'd been at each other's throats. Always arguing, always antagonizing each other, but there was something sizzling between the two of you. Which neither of you had noticed. Maggie said it first. When you'd all turned up to the farm, she'd asked you if the two of you were a thing, to which you laughed in her face. "As if I'd let Daryl put his hands on me," you exclaimed. "Dream on, girl," he'd call out as he passed the two of you outside. When the farm had been lost and you'd all found the prison, the two of you were incessant on arguing. It was just a constant cat fight between the two of you. Glenn had even made a comment about it feeling 'weirdly sexual'. Rick had learned to keep you apart, for the sake and sanity of the group. He was surprised you'd made it this far without physically fighting or fucking. The long winter on the road, hunting in the woods, finally finding Alexandria, you two just never clicked. It had even become a game of sorts, to inconvenience the other one, to push them just that little bit off the edge. The two of you were so caught up in this game of riling up the other, that people within the community were beginning to assume there was a spark between you. And Daryl heard none of it, until Spencer had approached him once. "Hey," he spoke awkwardly, too afraid to look at the archer who was aggressively buffing his crossbow with a cloth. "What." Daryl grumbled, not even bothering to look up from his weapon. He could tell by the lanky figure it was Spencer. "I, uh," Spencer was rambling, unable to get to his point, "I wanted to know if anything was going on between you and Y/N." "Why do you care?" "I was gonna ask her out, well, I was gonna ask her over for dinner. There's not much in the way of dating anymore." Spencer faltered, looking anywhere except at Daryl. "But I didn't know if there was actually a thing between you two, so I thought I should ask instead of listening to rumors." Daryl finally stopped fussing his crossbow. "Why would I care? Do what you want with 'er." Just as Spencer had retreated down the porch steps, Daryl had immediately regret what he'd said. But why? You frustrated him to his core, you got under his skin, you knew just how to make him tick. And he hated it, at least he thought he did. All he used to worry about were walkers. Now, they'd been pushed to the back burner of his mind. He's been so swept up in this little back and forth with you, that he'd forgotten how terrible the world was for a moment. Did he really care about the thought of you spending time with another guy?

Daryl had watched in dismay as you spent less time winding him up, and more time walking the streets with Spencer. It was almost as if you were riling him up by walking past the porch he'd sit on. It was jealousy, and almost a sick possession to want you all to himself. You, unbeknownst to Daryl, had no interest in Spencer. You spoke to him and spent time with him purely as a friend and to make connections within the community. So when you'd been sent on a run with Daryl, it felt nice to not have to play a part anymore. To just be around someone you were yourself with. Of course you cared about Daryl enough to not see him get killed, but the two of you have always been at each other's throats. That was kind of your thing. "We taking a car?" You asked Rick, folding your arms as you stood beside Michonne. It was supposed to be the four of you, but Deanna wanted to see Michonne and Rick. "My bike." Daryl retorted. "I suppose it makes it easier to throw myself off," you reasoned, scowling at Daryl, and you could see Michonne chuckle into her hand. "Please," Daryl bit back, striding towards his bike, "gives me a break from you." You had your arms around Daryl, holding on tightly as you sped down a long, narrow road. The wind whipped your hair into your face, and every time you felt inclined to swipe it away, Daryl made sure both of your hands were around him. He'd gripped your hand and forced it back onto his waist as you tried to smooth your hair down. When you'd gotten to a small town outside of the area, Daryl dismounted and helped you off the bike. It was the least he could do. You did your usual sweep of each store, and taking the stock you needed, occasionally being annoying and getting a series of grunts in return. "Didn't ya ever learn to shut up?" He spat, waving you off as he entered another aisle. You rolled your eyes, shoving stuff into the backpack you'd brought along. "Didn't you ever learn to treat women nicely?" You had aggravated him the entire run. Instead of moving things out the way so both of you could pass, you'd just climb over it and let Daryl deal with it himself. Instead of listening to him, you'd go off and do exactly what you wanted to. Daryl felt like a babysitter. "Surprised Spencer puts up with ya." Daryl mumbled, shining a flashlight into a dark back room, only to find dead walkers and upturned furniture. "Excuse me?" "Ya heard me, girl." "Spencer doesn't have to put up with anything." You remarked, folding your arms. "So it's just me then? Ya annoy me and not ya own damn boyfriend!" Daryl's voice grew louder, the two of you so caught up in arguing that you'd almost forgotten the dead were out to get you. "Spencer's not my boyfriend!" Oh, Daryl thought. His heart lifted for a moment, until he'd seen a walker come out of the room behind you. Without hesitation, he shot an arrow through it's skull, and watched as you caught your breath. "Get in 'ere." Daryl demanded, grabbing your hand and leading you into a vacant bathroom. "Always messin' up the damn thing." "What?" You answered, voice small and still shaking with fear. You'd never come that close to death before. A walkers hands had grabbed your shoulders, it's teeth mere inches away from you. "Why don't ya listen to me, huh?" He whisper-yelled, his grip still firm on your hand. "Always runnin' off and doin' what ya want. Ya need manners, girl." "I need manners? When have you ever said a nice word to me? When have you ever thought about me in any positive way?" Daryl paused, was it the time for this?

"Every fuckin' day. Every mornin', every night. Every damn time I see ya, I can't not think about ya." Daryl admitted, frustration still laced in his voice. "All ya do is drive me insane." Both of you were breathing heavily, tension still clouding the air in this very small bathroom. You were almost chest to chest with the little space available in here. Daryl was thinking with the recently unlocked part of his brain that just contained you. Every glance he'd ever sent your way, every time he'd seen you stretch and show the hem of your underwear, every time he'd look down at you and see those innocent eyes staring back up at him. There was nothing that felt as right as this. His lips were on yours, and you'd moved against his like you'd done it regularly. Hell, you thought about it at times. When you were lonely in your cell, in your room in Alexandria, the hatred went hand in hand with passion, and you were so overfilled with lust that it had all blurred into one. Every bitter word the two of you threw at each other, it fueled the fire that you were both burning in now. He'd gripped at the clothes he wanted gone, and you'd silently obey him. His calloused hands swiped over your neck, and it had awoken a side of you that was powered off when the world ended. "Oh, you like that, huh?" He asked, his voice no longer containing it's usual gruffness. It was whiny, almost poking fun at how you were putty in his hands. You just sighed in response, giving up any self control you had. It was all his now, to do with it as he pleased. "Gotta teach ya a lesson, girl," he breathed into your ear, hands on your shoulders and spinning you round the other way. You hadn't realized the mirror facing you, your tinged cheeks and sleepy eyes clouded over with lust.

Daryl's lips grazed the curve of your neck, daring to place a kiss on your soft, pure skin. He wanted to toy with you, like you did with him every day. Sauntering around, giving looks you'd only give to him, leaving him to deal with his hard-on in the middle of the night. "Ya gonna listen to me now, hm." You could feel his hands gliding closer to the inside of your thigh, heat burning between your legs. You didn't just want it, you needed it. You arched your back into him, rubbing against whatever you could. Needed the friction, the look in your eyes almost primal. Daryl smirked at you in the mirror, holding your gaze as he spat on his hand. Your fingers squeezed the counter as he slid into you, the two of you completely in sync as you moaned out for each other. The feeling purely nostalgic. "God," you cried, your eyebrows knitted together and your lip quivering. "There ain't no God here, girl, just me." One of his hands gripped your thigh as rammed into you, jerking your hip bones into the counter. If you weren't so wrapped up in Daryl, it would ache. But you couldn't stop, not even to readjust, you needed Daryl to carry you to your high. His other hand snaked up your body, sensually rubbing at your breasts, of which he'd caught glimpses of for years. Finally seeing them felt... satisfying. All the times you'd fiddle with your shirt, exposing them just barely, and Daryl would have to be a gentleman and look away. His hand finally reached your neck and he'd gripped both sides with his fingers and thumb. He'd peered at you through the mirror, catching the whites of your eyes as you rolled them back. Seeing how delighted you looked, it made him feel good. He knew just how to make you tick. "Ya gonna do as I say from now on," he breathed, squeezing tighter on your throat, "you're all mine, girl." "Yeah," you croaked, Daryl's grip on your throat and him inside of you rendered you unable to speak, you were just allowing him to do whatever he wanted. "All yours." He'd suddenly stopped and you whimpered at the loss of contact. Daryl had turned you around again, hooking his arms under your ass and lifting you onto the counter. "Wanna see that pretty face." He'd entered you again, filling you up and you were back to seeing stars as he pumped into you. His grunts and moans were close to sending you over the edge. His hand found your throat again, squeezing on the familiar spot and Daryl's eyes flickered to your breasts as the bounced with every thrust. They were entrancing. He was close to finishing, but he wanted to savor this moment. He wanted this, you, over and over again. He could see the drool escaping your lips and running down your chin, some dropping onto your breasts. He almost finished at the sight of it all. "Let go for me, girl." He moaned, bringing you closer to him for the final few thrusts. "Come on. Good girl." Your body took over, sending you over the edge and quivering on him. Daryl held your body tight, careful not to let you go. His rhythm had gotten sloppier, he couldn't hold it, just knowing this was all with you, all for you, he let go himself and caught your gaze as he did so. There was nothing he'd change about this, the tiny bathroom, the argument beforehand, the relationship the two of you had before. It all led to this, and he'd do it again. Exactly the same.

[smellysluna]

Could you write an Adrien x reader imagine where they’re forced to date by their parents to promote an upcoming fashion collaboration something, and then go from hating each other and being super fake to falling in love for real?

You know what? I postponed this ask waaaay to much. So what did I do? I sat down and took up your challenge. Go and enjoy the story you asked for but I never put the effort to make - until now e.e

warnings? no warnings apply :p

You always thought arranged dates were a relic of the past, something that only happened in old movies or distant cultures. Yet here you were, sitting across from Adrien Agreste, the face of the Agreste fashion empire.

Your parents have arranged this meeting to promote an upcoming collaboration between their brands, hoping the buzz around your "relationship" would skyrocket their sales.

Adrien looked perfect, as always—his blond hair artfully tousled, green eyes bright but distant. Always maintaining the perfect façade. Unlike you, painfully aware of every imperfection and every nervous gesture.

"Let's get one thing straight," Adrien said, breaking the silence. His voice was calm but firm. "We don’t have to like each other, but we do have to make this work."

You nodded, feeling a mix of relief and annoyance. "Agreed. Let's just get through this."

For the next hour, you both put on a show for the paparazzi lurking outside, sharing forced smiles and rehearsed lines. The whole encounter felt like a poorly scripted play, and you couldn't wait for it to end.

The next few weeks were a whirlwind of public appearances, photo shoots, and meticulously planned dates. Your parents had spared no expense in crafting the perfect narrative: two young heirs, brought together by fate and fashion. But behind the scenes, your interactions with Adrien were cold and apathetic.

One evening, after yet another tedious event, you found yourself walking alone in the Agreste mansion. The luxury of the place was suffocating, each room a reminder of the pressure you were under.

You wandered into the library, seeking solace among the rows of books.

"You like to read?" Adrien's voice startled you.

You turned to find him leaning against the doorway, a curious look on his face. "Yeah," you admitted. "It's one of the few ways I can escape."

He nodded, stepping into the room. "I get that. Sometimes I feel like my whole life is scripted. But I prefer watching anime to get some distraction." And patrolling as Chat Noir, though he wasn’t about to expose his best-kept secret to you.

For a moment, you saw a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes, and it struck a chord within. Maybe you weren't so different after all.

As the days passed, the cracks in your mutual disdain began to show. You still argued over trivial things and maintained a facade of disinterest, but there were moments—small, fleeting moments—when you glimpsed the real Adrien beneath his polished exterior.

One afternoon, you were both at a photoshoot for the collaboration campaign. The theme was a romantic picnic, complete with a vintage blanket and a basket of props. The director called for a break, and you and Adrien found yourselves alone in the park.

"Here," Adrien said, handing you a water bottle. "You look like you could use this."

"Thanks," you replied, surprised by the gesture. "I didn't expect you to be so… thoughtful."

He shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips. "There are a lot of things you don't know about me."

He hesitated, then said, "Like how terrible I am at cooking. I once set the kitchen on fire trying to make toast."

You laughed, picturing the usually composed Adrien in such a chaotic situation. "Seriously? Toast?"

He grinned, a little sheepishly. "Yeah, it was pretty bad. I had to call the fire department and everything. My father was not impressed."

You chuckled, the tension between you easing a bit. "Well, remind me never to let you near my kitchen."

He laughed along with you, the sound genuine and warm. "Deal. And maybe one day you can teach me how to make toast without causing a disaster."

One day, after a particularly exhausting photoshoot, Adrien and you found yourselves with a rare afternoon off. Deciding to make the most of it, you both ended up in the Agreste mansion's sprawling garden. The setting was beautiful and serene, a perfect escape from the public eye.

As you wandered through the lush greenery, admiring the flowers, you suddenly felt a cold splash of water on your neck. You turned around to see Adrien standing there, a mischievous grin on his face and a small water gun in his hand.

"Did you just...?" you began, but before you could finish, he squirted you again, laughing.

"Lighten up!" he teased. "It's just a bit of water."

You couldn't help but laugh, the unexpected prank breaking through the formality that often hung between you. "Oh, you're going to regret that!" you said, grabbing a nearby watering can and splashing him back.

What ensued was a playful water fight, with both of you dodging and splashing, laughing like carefree kids. It felt liberating to let go and just have fun, forgetting about the pressures and expectations that usually weighed you down.

Finally, drenched and out of breath, you both collapsed onto the grass, still giggling.

"Okay, I have to admit, that was pretty fun," you said, wiping water from your face.

Adrien smiled, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "See? I knew you had it in you."

"Just don't make a habit of it," you warned playfully. "Or I might have to come up with a prank of my own."

"I'd like to see you try," he challenged, his grin widening.

As you lay there, catching your breath, you realized that this was the first time you'd seen Adrien truly relax and let his guard down. It made it more obvious that he's not just a perfect, polished model, but a real person who wants to laugh and have fun.

As the collaboration launch approached, your relationship with Adrien grew deeper. You began to spend more time together, not just for the cameras, but because you genuinely enjoyed each other's company. You talked about everything—your favourite anime, your dreams, your fears, your hopes for the future.

One day, you were both at a charity event for Adrien's school, where he introduced you to his friends. Nino, Marinette, Alya—they were welcoming and kind, and you felt a pang of envy at the close-knit group they formed.

"You're lucky to have such great friends," you said to Adrien as you watched them from a distance.

"I know," he replied, a fond smile on his face. "They keep me grounded."

"Tell me more about them," you urged.

He did, and as he spoke, you saw a different side of him—one that was caring, loyal, and deeply connected to those he loved. It made you like him even more.

The night of the collaboration launch arrived, and the event was a resounding success. The venue was abuzz with excitement, filled with influential guests, dazzling lights, and the perfect blend of glamour and sophistication. Your parents were thrilled, the media couldn't get enough, and every detail had gone off without a hitch.

After a whirlwind of interviews, photos, and obligatory mingling, you and Adrien finally managed to slip away to a quiet balcony overlooking the city. The cool night air was a welcome respite from the heat and noise inside.

"We did it," you said, raising your glass to him. The city lights reflected in your eyes, adding a sparkle that matched your mood.

"Yeah, we did," he agreed, clinking his glass with yours. His smile was genuine, not just for the cameras this time. "But I want to tell you something."

You raised an eyebrow, heart beating, curiosity piqued. "Oh? What's that?"

He took a deep breath, looking out over the city before turning back to you. "I don't want this to end. This whole thing. I know it started as a publicity stunt, but somewhere along the way, it became real for me."

Your heart skipped a beat. "I...". The sincerity in his eyes was unmistakable. "I actually feel the same way," you admitted, feeling a rush of warmth on your face.

He laughed, a light, joyful sound that made your heart flutter. "Good. Because pretending to be in love with you was starting to feel way too easy."

You blushed, a mix of relief and happiness washing over you. "So, what now?"

Adrien stepped closer, cupping your face in his hands. "Let's stop pretending and see where this takes us. For real this time."

Adrien stepped closer, his hand gently brushing a strand of hair from your face. "Now," he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper, "we make this real."

Before you could respond, he leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was both tender and passionate. The world around you faded away, leaving just the two of you in that perfect moment. You could feel the genuine emotion behind his kiss, a stark contrast to the rehearsed displays of affection you'd shown the world.

As the kiss deepened, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. His hands found their way to your waist, holding you as if he never wanted to let go. The kiss was intoxicating, filled with all the feelings you'd both been holding back.

When you finally pulled away, breathless and smiling, Adrien rested his forehead against yours. "I've wanted to do that for so long," he confessed, his voice full of warmth.

"Me too," you replied, feeling a flutter of joy.

The pressures of your parents and the fashion world still loomed, but they felt more manageable with Adrien by your side.