#there is a small time frame where you can get it out and have the original soul still be able to have it

[syoddeye]

sliding scale

You're in need of a handyman. He has needs of his own. cw: discussion of kids/pregnancy, john price inserting himself into your life, heavily implied breeding kink, unsettling and smutless (my brand)

You win the jackpot. Okay. Not the jackpot, but you're hit by a respectable windfall. It's like a cheesy movie you'd watch around the holidays: A distant relative dies, you receive a very serious letter, and suddenly, your account isn't as sad as it once was.

So, you do the impossible. The unthinkable. You buy a house.

An old, well-loved house from an elderly couple.

The day you close, they tell you about raising their kids in the house and mention the names etched on the door frame. When you arrive home that evening, the empty house feels grand and hollow, but there they are, just where they said. Names climbing upward in uneven increments, faded with time, but legible. You trace your finger along the marks, imagining small hands and the measuring tape, the years slipping by. It makes you smile, despite yourself.

You've never wanted kids, not really, but the thought of this, people leaving bits of themselves behind—it makes you mushy. You figure, once the dust settles, you'll let rooms to friends, maybe friends of friends. Start a fun little commune of sorts, a collective of people coming and going.

The first night, you drink nonalcoholic wine straight from the bottle and lie on your mattress on the floor, staring up at the ceiling. There's no furniture yet, just your overnight bag and the smell of fresh paint from a patch you tested on the living room wall. You fall asleep smiling. The house needs a lot of work, but you're not worried. Some TLC and elbow grease can go a long way.

Over the next few weeks, you move in and start working. Anything is possible with the power of YouTube tutorials and the local tool library.

You start in the primary bedroom and bathroom, learning to tile, install flooring, and connect plumbing for the perfect vanity and sink you found at a thrift store. It feels good to learn how things fit together and see the fruits of your labor. At night, you sleep in one of the old kid's rooms. The wallpaper is covered in rockets and planets. A couple of glow-in-the-dark stars cling to the ceiling.

The bathroom comes together wonderfully, and you feel invincible.

But then you get to the kitchen.

After an outlet zaps you, you decide you may be in over your head. That there really is a limit to what one person can do on their own. You start looking up local contractors, but everything is out of your budget. You've been doing all the work yourself for a reason. Then, after digging for ages, you find a promising lead: John Price - Handyman - Sliding Scale.

On the phone, John seems normal. Charming. Funny. He tells you he's impressed you bought a house on your own. (You've heard that a lot lately, and while it feels patronizing, you let it go. You did jump up a band upon inheriting your chunk of Great Uncle Leroy's money.) He agrees to come by and see what he can do.

You have to admit he makes a good impression when he shows up. He's punctual, polite, and looks the part. Broad chest, thick arms, big hands resting on his hips as he surveys the kitchen. After only a few minutes, he says he'll take the job. No hesitation.

You explain your tight budget and that you'll work alongside him when you're not at your day job. You show him the money you've set aside, expecting him to back out, but he just shakes his head and nudges the folder back across the table.

"Said I'd do it. Don't you fret, darl."

You vet him afterward, just to be sure. His references check out. The reviews are solid. He appears to know a little about everything. You text him to confirm, formally offering the job, and he accepts.

On the first day, you let him in and immediately have to avert your eyes. You didn't realize a toolbelt could look like that on someone. His sleeves are rolled up, exposing his forearms, and the way he moves—confident, purposeful—makes you grateful you're heading out to work. You tell him when you'll be back and leave quickly, gripping the steering wheel tighter than usual thinking about the hunk of man in your house.

When you return, the kitchen looks different, unfinished, but vastly improved. John's already fixed things you didn't think could be fixed. Over lunch, he even scoped out other problems around the house: a crack in the basement wall, a loose board on the stairs, and spots where the flooring must be replaced. He gushes about the house, praising its character, the way it's held up over time.

John's face grows serious, and stares down his nose when he finally asks, "You're not gonna ask me to paint over the wood or rip out the built-in hutch, are ya?"

His relief over your answer is palpable: No. That's why you bought the house in the first place. You describe what you love about it: the glass doorknobs, the dining room archway, and transom windows above the doors. He nods. He knows exactly what you mean.

Before he leaves for the day, he stops at the doorframe and points to the tallest name etched into the wood. You explain it belonged to the previous owners, a family with seven kids.

"Seven," he repeats, eyebrows raised.

"Right? Can you believe that? Seven!" You laugh. Frankly, anything more than two sounds insane. 

But John doesn't laugh. He stares at the names for a moment, his jaw tight. "Yeah. Difficult to imagine."

After he leaves, you scold yourself. You don't really know John. You've known him for all of a day. What if he came from a big family? Or what if he doesn't speak to his family anymore, if things are complicated with his parents? You feel awful, and the guilt channels itself into stress-baking.

The next morning, when he shows up, there's a platter of breakfast pasties waiting on the counter. He hesitates, looks almost bashful, until you insist. He takes a bite, then another, and looks at you with genuine astonishment. He says if you leave food like this every morning, he'll knock his rate down even further.

It makes sense, financially speaking, so you agree. You start making breakfast for two, and in return, he keeps the repairs affordable. The ritual becomes routine: John shows up every weekday morning, you eat together, he gets to work, and you leave. You look forward to seeing him. Hearing his voice rumble out good mornings and goodnights.

For two weeks, you come home to find steady progress on the kitchen. You help him out for an hour or two in the evenings, and by the time it's nearly finished, you've started discussing other parts of the house.

You mention the two smallest children's rooms aren't really usable for tenants. You show him your plans to knock down the wall between them and create a library or office space.

But this time, John doesn't agree.

"First I'm hearing of this," He leans back in his chair at your table. His arms cross over his chest, legs spreading wide. Even sitting, you see what he's doing. Trying to take a posture that carries authority, to cow you. "Tenants? What about a family?"

You try to steer the conversation back to your plans, to the picture you've sketched. "I'm not planning on having one. So, like I was saying—"

"Why buy a house this big, then? Why spend all this time fixin' it up if you're not planning to honor its legacy?"

The tone of his voice shifts completely, with no trace of the easy, flirty banter that's been your norm for weeks. His words drip with disdain. His brow knits together. Nostrils flaring. He looks genuinely upset. Mystified that you're not going to fill the house with your…your brood.

It's as if your refusal to have children is an affront to him personally. 

It sends a chill down your spine. Instantly, your image of him—this dependable, good-humored man—cracks apart. You glance past him, searching for the right words, and focus on the kitchen instead. The cabinets, the fixtures, the paint. All of it bears his mark now, and it leaves a sour taste in your mouth.

The realization settles like a stone in your stomach. You can't keep working with him. Not if your plans for the house, your house, are going to be a problem.

You tell him as much, as gently as possible.

His anger bleeds out of him quickly, melting into embarrassment and shame. His shoulders drop, and he folds into himself in a way that seems almost impossible for someone his size. "Don't know what came over me, darl."

He packs up his tools while apologizing again, both for his outburst and for the unfinished work, and gives you the spare key you lent to him for emergencies. Before he leaves, he asks you not to write a review, not even a positive one, and you agree. Things had been good until now. You don't want to ruin him over this. People have bad days.

With the kitchen functional and nothing too big left on your plate, you cut your losses and decide to finish the work alone.

Progress is slow on your own, of course. One pair of hands, only so many hours after work to chip away at the list after work. Still, time moves faster than you expect. You push through exhaustion, head often swimming, and work late into the evenings. One night, you finish patching the floor and tackle the basement's cracked wall. Only when you get down there, it's already done. Smoothed over perfectly.

You tell yourself John must've fixed it before everything went south. But then you notice other things. Several odd jobs from your list are already complete.

Squeaky door hinges turn silent. The dings and nail holes in the walls, spackled over. The second toilet that kept running starts working correctly. It's partly a relief, like the house is taking care of itself, but also deeply unsettling. You don't remember doing it, you've never sleepwalked or slept-repair in your life, even in your overtired state, and you're still too sore over your falling out to text John and ask if he did it all.

Instead, you decide to take a break. A few days off work, a proper rest. Let the house settle, let yourself breathe. Nothing happens. No floating tools. No ghosts. It's like the house is waiting for you to look away.

Paranoia sets in. You order cameras—indoor and outdoor, enough to cover every angle.

The day they arrive, you barely make it through the door before tearing open the box. But something stops you. Your eyes catch on a strange wooden box sitting on the dining table. It's a shadowbox.

Inside the box is the slat from the front doorframe, the one with the heights and names of the seven kids who grew up here. It's been cut out, perfectly, and framed like an artifact.

Your stomach drops. You scramble to the doorframe and run your hands over it, frantic. The patchwork is seamless, so clean it's like the names never existed.

Then you notice the boots. Tucked in and lined up next to your own pairs. The extra jacket hanging on the hooks.

A shadow falls over you.

You freeze, heart in your throat, and slowly turn with eyes the size of dinner plates. Towering above you, sleeves rolled to his elbows, fists planted on his hips, is John. Grinning.

"Work alright today?" He bends down and pulls you to your feet by your wrist, wrapping you up in an embrace and welcoming you home. He sways slightly with you, like you're dancing, his chest rising and falling against yours. He looks at you with a clear fondness and affection, but there's something off, like a splintering foundation. Stable until you look too close.

You try to push yourself away, palms flat against his chest, but he doesn't let go. "What are—What are you doing here? What are—Why did you do that?" You glance again toward where the measurements used to be.

He chuckles, soft and unbothered, a wistfulness threaded in his words. "Well, we're gonna need the room for our little ones, yeah? Oh, we'll have seven or more, dependin' on what takes. Sliding scale and all that."

At your stunned, horrified silence, he slots a hand into the back pocket of your jeans. He gives your cheek a little squeeze and starts steering you toward the kitchen. The one he built for you.

"C'mon. Lemme tell you all about my plans for us."

[lavenders388]

~The Type of Guy~

⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆ Kang Dae Ho

a/n i kno this gif isnt fully dae ho but its fully my favorite soo

not requested 💌

~⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆Kang Dae Ho is⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆~

the type of guy to make you laugh without even trying! his personality is so genuine and extroverted, anything he says he means it and he says it with his confident enthusiasm! he absolutely brightens up even the darkest of rooms (like in the games) and loves making people happy. this caught your attention at first and stayed your favorite thing, only growing as your love grows ⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆

the type of guy who vows the moment he meets you to protect you no matter what, this also ties into his confident and strong personality, he knows he deserves respect and so do you, and he's willing to fight for that no matter what<3 in the games he makes sure he's by your side or watching out for you and ensuring your safety. in the mingle game he won't for a second consider splitting up even if the group decides to.

the type of guy whose goal is to give you the life you deserve. if he meets you in the games, his perspective on winning the money totally changes; he decides he wants to pay off his debts and then buy a nice house for the two of you where you can spend the rest of your lives comfortably without the stress of finances. if he already knows you, he 100% joins the games because he believes he needs to be out of debt and moderately wealthy in order to be what you deserve.

the type of guy that is super super clingy to you. he loves you so much and he wants to show it in any way he can- always expect an arm around you from his tall frame, protecting you and reminding you how loved and cared for you are. he loves to cuddle, whether its on the couch watching a show during the day, or in your shared bed at night he wants to be as close to you as possible- not just to show his love for you but to make sure you feel safe and supported; as well as he just wants to hold you!!:3

the type of guy who listens to anything you say big or small, expect to get home and find that thing you briefly mentioned needing/wanting sitting on your bed ~v~

the type of guy who supports you no matter what! want to quit your job and look for a new one? he's already asked for more hours at his! want to go to uni? he's packing your lunch! want to do something out of your comfort zone? he's already cheering!

the type of guy who encourages you to have your own independence. he is absolutely in love with you having your own hobbies and things you enjoy doing! as well as he supports if you want some alone time or to be with your friends as well!

the type of guy who is the best partner ever (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)

[quirekey]

Can i request an Orion x gn!reader x d16 but the two try to fight for readers attention and friendship?

<3 pleeeeeeeaaaassse?

Live laugh Orion x Reader x D16 fr dude, I love this request dude I WAS WAITING FOR THIS

[ ORION PAX ] x [ GN!READER ] x [ D16 ]

[ Orion pax x D16 x Cybertronian!GN!reader ]

You were a pretty quiet Cybertronian Miner. Socialising wasn’t something you enjoyed and you preferred the peace and quiet instead of the constant bustling that you will hear. Not having any connections did make your job more lonely since every-bot had someone to call a friend while you are working your aft off in the mines.

After working in the mines for a while, these two mechs named Orion Pax and D16 turned out to become your closest friends you ever had yet. The three of you guys always got into some sort of trouble that was started by Orion and you three are inseperatable in the mines.

Overtime, the two have become possessive and each wanted one-on-one time with you and only you. It’s not that they were not friends anymore, they just had a disagreement on who should talk to you.

D16 thinks it’s unfair how Orion can just pull you away from him just to get in trouble by the higher-guards. D16 thinks that it’s rude to pull you away from what you are already doing and assumes that you just wanna talk to him instead of going around since it’s better to stay by the the rules instead of rebelling.

Orion thinks that it’s unfair because D16 is constantly bickering and yapping to you about whoever his new interest or idol is and nothing else. Orion assumes that you think it’s boring and it’s better to get your body moving and frame in shape instead of being isolated in the mines.

They’re both fair reasons but they keep vouching for you and assuming what you want, you’re just too scared to speak up. The two are now constantly fighting over you since they always want your attention and that you enjoy only their company.

“D, you have kept them inside of this isolating waste for so long! It wouldn’t hurt to at-least go outside and get some real light in your optics!”

“Well, I want to keep (Y/N) safe unlike you. You always get them into trouble and you guys could get punished! This is for their safety.”

“Well, you’re only online for so long.”

“At-least I’ll be online for longer than you.”

“And at least I am actually doing something with my life instead of staying in the mines.”

D16 just scoffed and walked off. D16 still cares for Orion but doesn’t want to admit it due to their friendship being at stake. Orion just smirked and shrugged at you, basically not caring one bit about the guy he used to hang out with every klick (minute).

“(Y/N), why is D now so down? He’s changed.”

“I’m not sure…”

You lied to him, you knew both of their secrets to a T but it was best to not share. You are pretty observant so you took some mental notes overtime and you’d reflect over them. Both D16 and Orion Pax are always fighting for your approval and friendship but seemingly their actions prove otherwise. They are way more affectionate than your regular friends and some could never be considered as platonic unless you are really close with them. You didn’t mind their affection but it was strange that they wanted you and only you.

It gets to a point where D16 gives you small kisses on the cheek when he walks by or Orion brings you somewhere empty then asks you to cuddle. You never declined because you didn’t mind but it was hard to pick between the two. You knew they liked you and you liked them back, the problem was that they didn’t want to share.

You just walked away from Orion and thought to yourself

‘Why did this have to happen to me…?’

Well you’re lucky enough that I enjoyed this because now I’m gonna continue this overtime… bigger poll than normal that’s for sure.

[heich0e]

Itachi 🚬🚬🚬🚬

Can we get some crumbs on the jounin itachi au you were working on??? 👉🏼👈🏼

i don't think i'll ever finish the fic, so (if ur interested) here's the WIP in its entirety <3 sorry it doesn't really have much of an ending!! i'll leave what happens after the fact up to u <3 tw: pregnancy and uchiha brother nonsense

“Sasuke.”

At the gentle call of his older brother’s voice, the youngest Uchiha’s head pops up from where he’d been craning over a book at his desk and swivels towards his bedroom doorway. Through the crack between the frame and the door itself, left ever so slightly ajar, he can see Itachi peering in—he hadn’t heard him come home, and he’s surprised to see him there.

“Nii-san,” the youngest greets him, placing his palms on his desk in preparation to push himself up from his seat. Before he can, Itachi wordlessly lets himself into the room, shouldering the door open and slipping inside. He glances around his little brother’s space—tidy, as it always it—and even though nothing is different from usual, he still takes in everything with a look of curiosity. Sasuke watches his brother cross the room, coming to stand beside where he’s seated at his desk.

“What are you reading?” 

Sasuke peers up at his brother in confusion. The jounin shouldn’t even be home, as far as he was aware—Itachi was supposed to leave on a mission that morning that would have taken him out of the village for at least a few days. At least that’s what he’d said to him over breakfast only that morning.

“Why are you here?” Sasuke counters his brother’s question with one of his own—a more pressing one at that.

Itachi’s eyes shift from the pages of the book laying open on the desk, to the face of his younger brother. He eyes him for a moment, and then sighs a bit, his lips curling up ever so slightly at the corner.

“Wanna take a walk?”

The autumn evening is brisk as the wind dances through Konoha. The sun is setting, and as the two brothers walk through the familiar streets, children race past them towards the sound of their mothers’ calls. Up ahead, Sasuke spots a couple with a young child between them, one little hand clasped in each of theirs, laughing amongst themselves as they make their way home. Sasuke shoves his hands into his pockets, peering at his brother from the corner of his eye. Itachi seems to be watching the family up ahead too, a peculiar expression on his face.

“Why didn’t you leave on your mission today?” 

It’s the first time either of the two brothers have said anything at all since leaving their home some time prior, though the question has been hanging between them since Sasuke first posed it in his bedroom, waiting to be answered. Itachi sighs again, that same mirthful sound as the first time his little bother presented him with the quandary.

“Hey, Sasuke,” Itachi begins, looking up at the pink evening sky overhead, “you know where babies come from, right?”

Sasuke nearly trips over his own two feet.

“What’s this about?” he spits, stammering over the words as ungracefully as he’d taken his last steps, his head whipping around to face his brother as a furious heat races into his cheeks. 

Itachi peers back at him, his expression neutral—but Sasuke knows his brother better than anyone, and he knows when Itachi is holding back a laugh.

“You didn’t answer my question,” the eldest points out.

“Well you never answered mine!” the youngest bites back.

Itachi finally breathes out a laugh at that, placing a hand on his little brother’s shoulder. The familiar gesture takes Sasuke by surprise, but he doesn’t pull away. “Let’s go get something to eat and we can both get answers.”

At a small food stall down the road, the Uchiha brothers sit with plates of sweet rice dumplings and steaming cups of green tea in front of them. Sasuke watches his brother lift one of his two skewers to his mouth and slide one spherical sweet from the wooden stick using the edge of his teeth, chewing on the confection slowly with a contented smile on his face.

“I don’t like these,” Sasuke reminds his brother, staring down at the sweet food in front of him with a crinkle on his nose. 

Itachi laughs, taking a sip of his tea.

“I know that,” the older of the two says. “Forgive me, Sasuke. This was more for my sake than yours.”

“You’re being weird today,” the teen grumbles, slumping back in his seat with his arms crossed over his chest. He eyes his brother warily.

“I suppose you’re right,” Itachi agrees, much to Sasuke’s surprise. He sets his cup of tea down beside his plate of dango, meeting his brothers gaze. “I got some news today.”

Sasuke’s mouth suddenly feels dry for reasons he can’t quite place.

“Sasuke, I’m having a baby.”

The youngest Uchiha’s eyes go wide, his entire body stiffening in his seat. Nothing about Itachi changes—not his gaze, nor his posture, nor his gentle, conversational tone.

“W-What?”

“Well, I’m not having the baby—you never answered my question earlier, but I trust you understand at least that much.” Itachi reaches for his cup of tea again, but pauses as Sasuke’s hands hit the table with a loud thump!—nearly knocking both of their drinks over in the process.

“What do you mean a baby?”

Itachi pauses, considering his brother for a moment. His lips thin into a line.

“When a man and a woman love each other, the Hokage gives them—“

“I know babies don’t come from the Hokage, I’m not a child!” Sasuke snaps, and Itachi gets that look on his face again, the one where nothing looks all that different but somehow his little brother recognizes he’s only thinly holding back his laughter.

“But when? Where? How?” Sasuke rattles off one incredulous, vaguely angry, question after the other. Itachi watches placidly as his brother works through them one by one.

“I don’t think you need to concern yourself so much with the whens and wheres,” Itachi clears his throat a little, the closest to sheepish Sasuke thinks he’s ever seen him. “As for the how: I’m happy to invite Iruka-san over for a house call and have him go through that academy unit again if you didn’t quite grasp—“

Sasuke shoots his brother a look that would make a lesser man cower.

“Sorry,” Itachi says, cutting himself off and wiping at his mouth and failing to hide the smile underneath his napkin. He watches his brother carefully, as though he can see the gears spinning inside his head while he tries to process this new, wholly startling information. 

Sasuke’s frowning, which isn’t unusual, but there’s something else in his expression that the elder doesn’t like—something insecure. 

Something frightened. 

“This is good news, Sasuke,” Itachi insists gently, but his little brother’s frown only deepens.

“It’s that girl, isn’t it?” 

Itachi draws up a brow in the wake of his brother’s pointed question. Sasuke’s never had an issue mentioning you by name before, but suddenly he can’t bring himself to say it—and there’s bitter resentment in his tone that Itachi’s never heard the teen direct towards you.

“She’s the one having the baby, yes,” Itachi says with a nod. 

Sasuke’s nose twitches a little, his eyes still refusing to meet his brother’s.

“Sasuke,” Itachi says soberly, calling for his attention—his own tone a little cooler now than it had been. 

After a moment, his little brother finally meets his eyes.

“Are you upset?” Itachi asks, his hands clasped together on the table in front of him. Both of their plates are forgotten now in the midst of their conversation.

Sasuke blinks. Once and then again.

“No,” he mutters, but even he knows it’s not a particularly convincing refutal. 

“It’s okay to be upset,” Itachi insists, and it’s irritating to Sasuke that his brother can be so calm at a time like this. That he can remain so even-tempered when he feels like there’s a sea sloshing in his empty stomach, battering against his ribs like waves against a rocky coast.

“I’m not upset,” Sasuke snaps again, and it’s even more damning than his earlier reply. He crosses his arms over his chest and leans back in his seat once more, fixing his eyes on the curtain that hangs around the food stall to distract himself from his brother’s concerned gaze.

A few more moments of silence pass between the two brothers, and Itachi takes this opportunity to pluck another rice dumpling off this skewer and into his mouth, and then swallows another sip of tea to wash it down. Sasuke keeps his eyes focused anywhere but the man in front of him.

“Mom always said you can’t have babies until you’re thirty,” Sasuke finally mutters quietly, and Itachi perks up at the sound of his brother’s voice.

The eldest clears his throat a little, wiping at his mouth with his napkin again. “Well, it’s not so much that you can’t have children until you’re thirty but more so—“

“You aren’t even married,” Sasuke goes on to add, before his brother has even finished his own thought, his eyes meeting Itachi’s across the table that stretches between them.

Itachi pauses, his lips closing as he considers his response.

“I hope to marry her before the baby comes.”

Sasuke’s eyes widen again, that same nauseated feeling rolling through him with renewed vigour.

Marriage?

“Sasuke, you’re only sixteen, I don’t expect you to fully understand this yet,” Itachi says softly. “But this really is good news. Happy news. You’re going to be an uncle.”

“What if I don’t want to be an uncle?” the youngest snaps before he can really think the words through.

For just a moment, there’s a flash of hurt on Itachi’s face—so brief and fleeting that anyone else would have missed the subtle shift in his eyes. But Sasuke doesn’t. He knows his brother too well. He feels a swell of regret immediately rise in the pit of his stomach as soon as he realizes it.

“I’m sorry, Sasuke,” Itachi says, his hands resting on the table in front of him. “I should have waited to tell you until I was better prepared. I know this must be a shock.” He watches his little brother carefully, his expression unreadable. “But you don’t get to decide whether you want to be an uncle or not, any more than you got to choose whether you wanted to be my brother. You just are.”

Sasuke peeks up at Itachi, a faintest ghost of a pout on his lips. The elder can’t help but find it funny that for all the ways his little brother has changed over the past sixteen years, he’s the same in all the ways that matter. 

The younger of the two seems to mull these words over for a moment, weighing their undeniable truth. Eventually he sighs, his shoulders slumping a little, and he reaches idly for one of the skewers of dumplings in front of him.

“So… when is the baby gonna be here?” 

Itachi laughs lightly, and Sasuke glances at him when he hears it. The elder reaches for his tea again, taking a sip.

“They'll be born in the spring.”

It feels too soon, Sasuke can’t help but think. Too near and too far away all at once, like both only a day and an eternity to wait.

Sasuke chews on the sweet, sticky dango for want of anything else to do—he doesn’t like the taste, or the way it clings to his teeth each time he presses them down into it. He gives up on trying to find the confection palatable, taking a long drink of his own cup of tea—now closer to room temperature than he likes it—to wash it down.

“Where will it sleep?” Sasuke asks next, and Itachi can tell that he’s trying to keep his voice light and nonchalant—but it still comes across as brittle.

“I thought I’d give them your room.”

Sasuke’s eyes flash angrily to his older brother, but the look of quiet amusement that meets him tells him the remark was made only in jest. It makes him pout again.

“Though, our apartment is quite small to accommodate two more,” Itachi notes aloud, almost more to himself than anything.

“Two more?” Sasuke asks, perplexed. “It’s twins?”

Itachi poorly conceals a laugh behind his closed fist, wincing when he sees the way this seems to irritate his brother more. 

“No, no,” the elder replies, “but you see…”

“There you two are!”

The curtain of the food stall lifts, and Sasuke’s head turns instinctively towards the sound of your voice as you slip beneath the slip of fabric you’ve gently ushered back. There’s a wide, warm smile on your face, and a glow in your cheeks that neither young man is certain has always been there—but which undeniably suits you. You approach their table, gently ruffling Sasuke’s hair in that way you always do and that no one else could possibly get away with—the teen is so shocked that even if he wanted to bat your hand away he doesn’t have the chance before you’ve already slipped away to stand behind his brother.

Your smile dips a little as you survey the scene before you.

“Itachi,” you say softly, the corners of your mouth well and truly turning down. The eldest Uchiha tilts his head back to peer up towards where you stand above him, the crown of his head resting resting against you. Your eyes are fixed to the table and the plates in front of the brothers, but they quickly flicker to meet the ones staring up at you curiously. “Did you two even eat dinner?”

Itachi glances quickly at Sasuke, who returns the look with an equally panicked one of his own.

You groan, your hands coming to rest on Itachi’s shoulders and shaking him gently. “You two are impossible.”

“It was my idea,” Itachi says, apologetic but resolute. “I’m sure Sasuke would have preferred a proper meal.”

You shoot a pointed look at the man below you, and then turn your gaze to the teen across the table once more. 

“Are you hungry?” you ask him, your head tilting to the side as any trace of condemnation evaporates from your tone. Itachi likes the way you talk to Sasuke—neither like a child, nor necessarily with the frankness of a peer. You speak to him with care, but due respect, in a balance that Itachi seems to struggle to accomplish himself, most days.  

“I’m fine,” Sasuke replies coolly, but his stomach has a knack for honesty where he does not, as the remark is immediately punctuated with a very noticeable grumble. His cheeks stain pink as he averts his gaze dourly in the wake of the betrayal.

You chuckle a little to yourself, squeezing Itachi’s shoulders. “How about I go on ahead and see what I can scrape together in your kitchen?"

"Have you already eaten?" Itachi asks. "Why don't you join us here?"

"I’m starving, but the thought of dango…” Both brothers watch a flash of discomfort race behind your eyes.

Itachi reaches up and places one of his hands over yours upon his shoulder, a gentle, knowing touch, and Sasuke watches the unconscious gesture curiously. You and Itachi share a look that seems to speak without words, to communicate something even in its silence. You nod, smiling a bit, and then step away.

“We’ll be home soon,” Itachi assures you as you head towards the curtain and the street that waits for you on the other side.

“Hurry, or I can’t promise what food will be left,” you call back over your shoulder with a grin, lifting one hand in a lazy wave. Sasuke notices only as you turn to leave the way the other is tucked gently against your stomach, cradling and protective.

He looks down at the plate of dumplings in front of him—at the way the kinako powder clings to the sticky surface of each round treat, darkening in the places where it’s melted into the moisture of the rice dough but still a pale brown in the places it’s dusted on thickest. He finds it all wholly unappetizing—and not just because he doesn’t have a sweet tooth.

"Sasuke."

The youngest Uchiha—though not for much longer now, he realizes—refuses to lift his gaze, even though his brother's tone is insistent.

Itachi sighs.

"Let's head home."

The walk back to Itachi and Sasuke's home lacks the tranquility of their earlier journey. There's something heavy now in the autumn air—something more stifling than summer heat, more bitter than winter's biting cold. Sasuke's feet drag with every step, a weight building in his stomach that threatens to cement him into place.

"She cares for you very much, you know."

Itachi's words only weigh him down further. Sasuke keeps his eyes on the street as he walks, and doesn't offer any response to the statement his brother has made. Itachi's lips purse a little as he considers what to say next.

"You were the first thing she brought up, after she told me. She said that you needed to know right away. That it couldn't wait. That you needed to know, no matter what."

Sasuke stops walking.

His hands are balled into fists at his side.

"Needed as much notice as possible to kick me out, huh?"

Itachi stops walking too.

"What are you talking about?"

"That's what this is, right? You're telling me that I need to get out to make room for that girl and that... thing."

"Sasuke—"

"I get it," Sasuke brushes off his brother's attempt to interject. "I get it. I'll be out before the spring when it gets here. You and your new fam—"

A sharp pain blooms in the centre of Sasuke's forehead, so unexpected it makes his head snap up in shock. Itachi stands before him, the hand he'd just used to flick him still outstretched. There's an expression Sasuke's not used to seeing on his brother's face. Hurt, maybe. Anger, even.

"First of all," Itachi says, his voice stern. "There's no thing. That's my baby. Your niece or nephew. Stop calling them 'it'."

Sasuke's jaw clenches.

"And secondly: you're not going anywhere."

There's a tense beat of silence that passes between the brothers. Suddenly, Sasuke notices that it's like all the wind in Konoha has vanished. The dusky streets around them are so still. So silent. It's like they're the only two people left in all the village.

"But you said—"

"Sasuke," Itachi steps forward slightly. "You're my brother. My blood. My home will always be your home. Always."

Sasuke's fists tremble as they hang at his sides. The tide in his stomach swells, overtaking his chest.

"And my wife and my child are your family, too. They'll care for you the same way I do. Any home we share will be equally yours, without question."

"You don't know that," Sasuke says, and he hates the way his voice sounds. Hates how childish and small he feels.

"I do," Itachi insists. "Of course I do."

"How?"

There's a soft breeze that brushes past the Uchiha brothers, then. A gentle wind that threatens to carry Sasuke's meekly rasped question away with it. It's quiet for a moment as the word hangs in between them, and then Itachi places a hand on Sasuke's shoulder—warm, reassuring, familiar.

"Because I wouldn't want it any other way."

[ditzydoe444]

MDNI 18+

brat⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ⌗ .ᐟ

jason todd smut

size difference! jason x bratty! reader

jason was known for his size. his tall, imposing frame and muscular build made it obvious. the difference in size between the two of you was hard to miss, and jason definitely used that to his advantage.

you had acted out earlier, whining because he was always out on patrol and never spent enough time with you. though jason never tolerated your bratty behaviour, he immediately shut you up, throwing you onto the couch before he had his own way with you.

“you better shut that pretty little mouth of yours sweetheart, or i’ll do it myself,” he grumbled, immediately removing his pants and belt. obviously, you didn’t listen, you never did. there was something about getting on his nerves that turned you own. god you were soaked.

you shook your head, “you don’t know how neglected i feel when you are gone in the middle of the night jay,” you grumbled with a pout. it was a half lie, jason would always come back early in the morning, preparing your breakfast and cuddling with you. he shook his head before he roughly tugged off your tiny poor excuse of shorts. “i always come back early when i can, make the stupid little coffee that gives you a toothache and cuddle before i even sleep. and you are complaining about that sweetheart? god, you really are a brat.”

“i’m not a brat, i just have basic needs,” you protested with a pout. you loved getting on his nerves, and god if you got good sex out of it, what’s there to complain?

jason knew you never really meant the comments you said, purposely trying to get a rise out of him so he could take it out on you instead. “you really like playing this game sweet thing huh? making me all mad so i can fuck you like a fleshlight?” he grumbled as he saw how soaked you were. small tiny damp spots on your panties. he let out a low chuckle, “all this for me? you must be feeling generous.”

you weren’t in the mood for dirty talk. you were in the mood to have his fat cock shoved up your cunt, and clearly he was having fun toying with you. “you are all bark no bite,” you retorted, wanting a slap on your clit from his fat cock. “fucking you is one thing, letting you come is another. so play your cards right.” he narrowed his eyes.

it wasn’t long before he was balls deep, fucking you like a toy made for his release. the grip he had on your waist was tight, so tight you were sure it was going to leave marks. he always treated you like a rag doll during sex, his larger and stronger frame allowed him to use you as he pleased. “such a cute little thing,” he cooed in between thrusts, your sharp tongue was held back by how hard his thrusts were, drilling deep into your cunt. the only words you could even say were unintelligible moans and whines. “ya know sweet thing, if you were this silent and obedient, it’ll make my whole life a lot more easier.”

but where was the fun in that?

he rubbed your clit, making you whine and kick your feet. “c-close” you moaned though it was muffled by your hand, you were so loud. “i know you are sweet thing, you are making a mess on his couch.” he squeezed your lower stomach, “you feel me there? i’m so deep in you.” god of course you felt him, he was huge.

“such a cute thing, your tight cunt struggling to take my cock,” he teased, his thrusts were getting harder and harder. the couch basically moved to the other side of the room. “think you can hold out for a little more longer?” no. god no.

“l-let me come,” you whined. you were so close, and you weren’t going to let him take that away from you. “well you better of watched your mouth before you started being a brat,” he said simply, not breaking a sweat. “please jay,” his hand that was rubbing your clit went back to your waist, forcing you to take every inch of him. as a way to get off, you slid one of your hand to your clit, rubbing it, but he quickly swatted it away. “if you want to make yourself come, do it. but i won’t be fucking a desperate brat who can’t come on my dick.”

“p-please jay,” you whined. tears were rolling down your cheeks and saliva dribbled down the edges of your mouth. “promise you won’t be a little whiny brat?” you nodded, so desperate for a release.

not long jason has you pinned down in a mating press, his fat cock bullying your tight cunt. you were pretty damn sure you needed to replace your couch after this.

[judasgot-it]

lol, Hello!

You’re writing is truly one of a kind. I rarely make requests but I couldn’t help.

Can I request-

Hunting dog s/o who hides stuff between her breast? Like literally “oh is there a flash card needs to be in safe place until we reach the headquarters? Okay. *puts it between her boobs like it’s nothing*

Tecchou, Jouno, Tachihara plz?

I love you and your brilliant mind. Also, I hope you don't mind, but I'm going to give reader rather massive honkers.

Scenario: Hiding things in your honka-donka's (Tecchou, Jouno, Tachihara)

Tecchou

The mission had been more casual, just an investigative part of what your daily job was.

These were more fun, at least for you - you had freedom to do whatever you want to people. Within legal reason, obviously.

Tecchou was not always the biggest fan. But it was either you go alone with Jouno, who you would not stop from torturing innocent people, or you go alone with Teruko, who you also would not stop from torturing people.

In fact, you only instigated them. Tecchou didn't say much, but his side eyes were enough for you to know his disproval.

Today though, you could see his joy. A near bounce in his step. After all, there was no torturing innocent people with him around. Maybe you would annoy them with your ability, but that was it.

So it left only the both of you together. Finding one man in a fancy suits and instruments. Because with your luck, they worked on the day of an Orchestra.

It left the both of you waiting just on the edge of the curtains, waiting for the end of the performance. After all, if this man saw that he was getting interrogated in the middle of his show then he would either run or mess up.

Tecchou would hate that. Appearntly he's a patron of the arts. How nice.

"Do you have his photo? I want to double check his identity,"

"Sure, it's here somewhere,"

Feeling in the space between your bra and boob, you pulled out a folded paper - so small it fit just between your finger tips like a cigarette.

It was a little warm, soft in the way paper gets on a humid day. You waved it to him, not thinking twice about it.

His hand didn't seem to move. You looked at it, where it was frozen in place by his side. Taking initiative, you picked up his hand, placing the now unfolded photo inside of it, giving him plenty of time to see it how he would like.

So slowly. Like he had lost frames in the movie he was animated in, he slowly brought the paper closer toward himself. His fingers barely touched it, still cupping it as if it were a small kitten of sorts.

"Are you...okay?"

Tecchou didn't seem that different, but his face was non committal. For once, you could tell he was thinking.

Strange. Maybe he knew this man.

It left the both of you in relative silence. A social kind, one that was broken only by the beautiful score played by the musicians around you. One that happened to be related to a terrorist - strange world.

"Do you keep things in your bra often?"

"Yea? It's free storage, dipshit. No one is gonna steal my wallet if it's in my tits,"

The logic was pretty simple. It's as if he had never experienced fighting a robber. Although he probably didn't, given he was the type to wear his uniform 24/7.

"Do all women do this?"

"...is this your first time seeing this?"

"I don't have boobs."

"That's a lie. You have a huge rack,"

His face flushed at that. It was small but noticeable - he always had a funny reaction to your jabs. You said he looked edible and he nearly giggled, which just wasn't a thing Tecchou did. It was kind of cute.

"Thank you." He said this with the stupid smile he had, one that was so small you could lie to yourself that it was even possible.

"Also to answer. No. I'm just blessed,"

"Blessed with what?"

His voice was laced with actual curiosity, but his face still stayed directly at your target. He was Lazer focused, and it gave you the chance to look at his ridiculous eyelashes. His jawline was a sin - he was so beautiful but instead joined the military.

"Huge honkers,"

"What?"

"Titties. Boobs,"

It was at this point he stopped acknowledging you. He was either done with your game or embarrassed that you were talking about your boobs so much. Probably the latter - you weren't teamed up often for a reason.

Then there was applause.

Tecchou moved ahead of you, not even waiting for the man to finish receiving what he had earned. You followed dumbly, since you unfortunately found that teasing Tecchou was more important than your job today. Oops.

Jouno

"Can you walk quieter?"

"What do you mean by that?"

"Your chest is so loud. Hold it or something, it's so loud."

He looked peeved, as if your mere existence annoyed the hell out of him. Knowing Jouno, it most likely did. He was annoyed by the air molecules moving, typically. God forbid you breathe either.

"Why don't you hold them? Since it bothers you so much?"

The face he pulled made your day so much brighter. The joy you felt was only comparable to when you first received a black belt. His nose scrunched up, with his cheeks red in embarrassment.

Jouno was embarrassed. Like a man in a lingerie store.

Adorable.

"Pervert."

"You like it."

"Gross."

He walked ahead of you, shouldering the corner of the wall as he struggled to have his thoughts in order.

Just to be a little bit of a cunt, you strutted forward, making sure you had maximum bounce as you walked.

You could hear Jouno's footsteps fall back, just close enough for him to be considered part of the pair you both were. It wasn't as if his uniform didn't make it obvious, but the two of you were walking through closed hallways - he needed the key in order to enter them.

Not unless he pulled out his ability. He could, but he always saved his stupid "oh wow you can't cut through me at all" trick for the last minute.

"We're nearly there. You should get ready."

He jogged a few steps to catch up with you. He hit the back of your shoulder with his palm, looking away as if it were the wind.

"I am ready, asshole. I was born ready!"

"I don't think you are. You're walking like a stripper."

This was in the list of things Jouno says and you are left to question everything. The uptight and 'best hunting dog' Jouno.

He was a grown man but a lame one, there was no way he actually knew.

"...how the hell do you know that?"

His face was unchanging as you asked this. If he opened his eyelids you were sure that he would roll his eyes at you.

"I can tell by the way you walk. It's the same."

"Do you go to strip clubs often?"

A person passed by you. They didn't look like your guy, given this man was balding in his 40s and had a hunched-over shrimp-like back. But he gave you a look, the kind of judgment that came with bringing these topics out loud in public.

You smiled and waved back at him; as if you never said anything.

"That is not the topic of this conversation. Also, not your business."

"No I just have questions. Like, how the hell are you going to enjoy that? Can you hear my bra too?"

Another one you wanted to ask was when and where he even went to a strip club, but that sounded like you were too invested in his life. You're only coworkers anyway.

"I'm not telling you that,"

You grabbed his belt, keeping him walking right next to you. His body helped warm your fingers, starting to freeze from the strong AC in the building.

"I regret taking this mission now. I hope you get shot,"

His footsteps were longer than yours. Not by much, but you had to force yourself to walk just a little faster so you could keep your hold on him.

"Give me the key."

His hand was grabby, not even bothering to look back at you as he stared uselessly at the keypad and lock.

"I can just do it for you." Jouno turned back and gave you a look. His shoulders were rolled back, making him appear taller as he looked down at you. Fucker.

"No. You should stand back, you suck at blocking bullets."

"Nuh-uh."

"Just give me the key."

Sighing, you pulled back your shirt and searched inside of your bra. You knew exactly where it was, hiding underneath one of your tits and squeezing the little plastic corners into your skin. But there was the natural sweat that built up from having something so large on your chest, making you have to move your hands around your chest slower than it really should be.

You handed the card to him, feeling how his fingers were rather cool in comparison to the card.

Jouno didn't even acknowledge it. His face had scrunched a little, breaking the shield he kept up there for so long.

It didn't matter anymore though. He was close to opening the door, and you only had to step back and give support. You could harass Jouno later.

Tachihara

"Y/n. I need you to put this in a safe place,"

You hadn't worked one-on-one with Tachihara in forever. You missed him a lot - in the time he had been on a secret mission to infiltrate a child trafficking group, you had learned that his presence meant more to you than you had initially thought.

"I know this is weird to ask, but I trust you."

He put a Solid State drive into your hands - it had a sticker on it, only stating a date from a few months ago. When he originally entered the gang, you assume.

"Can I ask what it is?"

"It's from my mission. I found a lot more than we anticipated."

What the hell can he find more when it comes to child traffickers? They were basically doing the worst a person could do.

It made you a little terrified of the contents, honestly.

"So after this do you want to give it to Fukuchi or.."

"Yeah. Or we can all look over it together. It's awful stuff, so I need to make sure that it gets back to HQ safely."

Great way to make you even more terrified of what was inside.

"Why didn't you bring it back when you left?"

Seriously. This was unnecessarily complicated. Tachihara was the type of man to take precautions but this was kinda annoying.

"I hid it behind a baseboard here. They have an ability user who basically has x-ray vision. So I didn't want to take any chances until he was gone."

"Is that the guy Teruko is fighting?"

You both could hear her laughing somewhere in the building. There were also screams of pain and thudding sounds with no real pattern. She definitely got him subdued, you were sure.

"Yeah. Just put it somewhere it won't fall out. Or would be hard to reach. I trust you more than myself."

"You'll be fine."

Rolling your eyes, you unbuttoned the top of your shirt, just until you could see your bra. You made sure to put it as close to your body as possible, so it wouldn't fall out or be destroyed. Hiding it underneath your boobs added extra protection anyway - if you got punched in the chest. it would still be safe.

"What are you doing."

"Isn't it obvious? I'm putting it in my bra."

It felt a little uncomfortable having it on your skin, and it kept trying stab you by making the wire in your bra scratch your ribs. You regret wearing this one, because now you kept trying to adjust everything so you didn't have to feel that annoyance.

"...I can almost see your nipple."

"You shower naked with the rest of the guys. Is one nipslip going to kill you?"

You started to button your shirt back up, deciding that you had done good enough of a job. You would just have to ignore it.

"That's different! We don't even look at each other."

His face was red, hiding behind his fingers as he tried to look anywhere else but you.

"Then look away."

With that, you patted his chest, heading back to your mission. Whatever was on the drive could be shown to you later, but right now, you needed stab some people with the sword that kept slapping against your thigh.

Sorry for this both being late and for it rather being short. I'm trying to write more, so hopefully I'll be posting more. The end image is relevant I promise.

[narumi-gens]

as he loiters stands outside of the bar where you work, osamu knows this is the last place he should be. especially today.

but when atsumu told him that the two of you would be signing and submitting your divorce paperwork at the local government office, he mentioned needing to have a morning appointment because you would be working that afternoon.

osamu's surprise at your ability to compartmentalize getting divorced and working a bar shift in the same day must have been written on his face because atsumu had grinned and assured him, "see? it didn't mean anything to her either!"

as atsumu joked about how great of a wife you were for not giving him any hassle over a divorce, osamu wished he could have punched atsumu like he used to when they were kids and would have knock-out brawls over things as small as who got the next turn on the playstation or who got the last piece of meat at dinner.

because osamu knows that your brief relationship with atsumu didn't mean nothing to you -- he knows it meant everything.

so, like the fool he is, he waits in the cold for your shift to finish. he's been waiting on the empty street for almost an hour when you finally emerge into the chilly winter night with your coat buttoned tight and your hands buried deep in your pockets.

you freeze as soon as you see him, your sad eyes wide and your lips parted slightly in shock. it's cold enough that the can see your breath on the air, the little puffs coming quickly as your breathing picks up. he imagines your fight or flight response is running haywire and there's a pang in his chest that you see him as a threat.

the silence and stillness continue to stretch between you until osamu can no longer take it. with slow and cautious movements, he carefully unwinds the scarf from around his neck and holds the bundle out to you in what he hopes you'll see as a peace offering.

it takes another long moment before you take a few steps closer and reach out a hesitant hand to take it and wrap it around your own neck until it covers the lower half of your face.

for as much as he wants to break the silence, he doesn't know what to say. you seem to take pity on him and roll your sad eyes.

"walk me to the bus stop. I don't want some creep trying to follow me home," you say, your voice muffled by his scarf and he can only follow after you as you begin to walk off.

he trails a foot or two behind you as you make your way down the street. it feels wrong to walk at your side, like he doesn't deserve such a spot. every so often, he can hear you sniffle and he respectfully pretends that it's due to the cold.

when you finally get to the bus stop, you check the time on your phone before giving a small huff over what osamu can only assume is having missed your regular bus and needing to wait in the cold (with him) for the next one. you sit down on the bench and he continues to stand awkwardly at your side before you nod to the spot next to you without looking up at him.

he sits down closer to you than he intends but you seem to appreciate his presence warmth because you scoot close enough that your arms are touching. osamu suddenly feels something cold touch his head and when he looks up, he sees the small snow flurries that have gently begun to fall. you must feel them as well, because you press even closer into his side and he has to fight the urge to lift his arm and hold you tight.

"why didn't you put up a fight?" the question leaves him before he even realizes it and he's never felt more like atsumu's twin when his mouth continues to run. "you should have taken him for every last yen."

you seem to shrink under the weight of his words and he would give anything to be able to physically snatch them back out of the air and shove them back in his mouth. he doesn't think you'll respond. he doesn't expect you to respond.

but then you softly sniffle and he can feel your frame begin to tremble beside him. he can no longer pretend it's due to the chill in the air.

"I didn't want to make things hard for him," you murmur and your voice cracks on the last word.

osamu wants to scream. he wants to shake you. he wants to break something. he wants to shout that atsumu doesn't deserve your kindness or consideration. he doesn't deserve your love. not with the way he'd been so careless with your heart.

but all of his anger disappears when you suddenly break down into tears. his self-control crumbles and he wraps his arms around you. as you bury your face in his chest and tightly grip the front of his coat in your fist, he feels helpless, able to do nothing but hold you tight and rest his chin on top of your head.

the snow gently continues to fall as your sobs fill the sounds of the otherwise silent street and the pang in osamu's chest returns, only this time much deeper.

pining!osamu who stood silently by and watched your whirlwind romance with atsumu that saw the two of you married three months into your relationship and then divorced within a month when atsumu panicked

[dawnthefluffyduck]

I drew this explanation post for why I was completely inactive for a week, but then felt too anxious and drained to post it, and subsequently disappeared for a second week

Two main blog drawings and one side blog wip later, I remembered I made this and still think it's funny, so even though I stopped being dead (TM) I still wanted to share lol

Brief series of events at work

^^^old, but I'm still taking it easy so posts on both this blog and my alt will continue to be scattered for now

[tidesfate]

To give a perspective about how corruptive Moras matter is, even the smallest chunk of it, lets say the size of a plum, put into a vessel for it to possess would render the vessel unsavable for the 'original occupant' within a week. And that is if Mora hasn't done anything that expediates the mutations or corruptions (using powers, eating knowledge / memories, basically anything normal for Mora)

[screampied]

☆ cw. fem! reader, college au, first lesson, dumbification, praise, he's so nerdy, squırting, unprotected, mdni.

nerd! nanami who ends up teaching you a few ‘fundamentals’ of squirting after you end up gushing out by accident.

“oh, my,” he’d huskily croon, taking a short glance at your body that’s laid flat on his timber desk. mousy eyes zero up ‘n down your entire frame before he groans, feeling your legs snake around his slim torso. after another hourly long session of cramming your brain with pounds of boring information, you’d probably forget by the next day, you told nanami that you wanted to try out ‘penetration.’ and now, that came with you gushing straight out with his meaty shaft buried snugly deep inside of you. he grows quiet, smacking his lips as he feels your slobbering cunt dripping wetly like a running never-ending faucet. it’s almost adorable with the way your face scrunches up and you’re clawing at the buckle of his drooping belt with shaky hands. “we haven’t gone over that area yet, sweetheart,” and you’re moaning, feeling your back tickle against the scattered piles of marked papers that laid directly underneath you. “ah, ah. don’t close ‘em,” he purrs, staring as your stick-glossed quavery legs try to snap themselves shut. “let me examine the wet problem a bit closer.”

“w- was that supposed to happen?” you breathe through rushed pants, frantically chewing on your bottom lip as you watch him pull out. he’s slow, feeling your slight muscles tense and spasm as you drenched the entirety of his stilled dick with molasses of your webby slick. “f- fuck,” you whimper, and nanami’s pressing a pointed thumb down against the pearly top part of your tender clit. gradually, he’s swirling a plethora of exaggerated shapes alllll around your tender entrance, lowering his head once his turgid cock’s fully out of you.

with a placid hum, nanami nods. “don’t fret, sweet thing. it’s normal,” and you prepare a deep, heavy breath as you try to peek down, watching nanami re-adjust his clear-framed glasses. “but, do you think you can do that again? i’m . . having a bit of trouble with my vision,” and he softly presses a chaste kiss against your cunt. shortly after, a slimy dewy web of stringy juices merrily glues against his lips. “i believe if my hypothesis is correct . . if ‘m closer like thiiiis,” and you moan, feeling the cold lenses of his glasses press right up against your puffed folds. “you’ll help me solve just how much of a wet girl you can get for me this time.”

openly, nanami eyes at your sopping pussy that’s just pouring from all areas with so many dewdrops of slick. a shimmery stream of your syrupy arousal cascades down the slot of your entrance and oh- it’s so pretty. at least to him.

if you squinted enough, you could see the obscene mirroring reflection of the shiny glossed view that rests between your legs from the clear lenses of his glasses. “clitoral glands,” he starts to ramble, rubbing a thumb near the top bulb-shaped part of your twitching heat. “clitoral body,” and you moan, feeling him swerve his digit down lower. “but let’s skip to . . . her,” nanami coos huskily, and you gasp once his round thumb plugs itself inside you after just a few loose inches. you swallowed that single digit right up oh-so blissfully.

like a hidden trick of a magician—his finger disappears inside of your cunt, and it presses against a particular small texture right above your lower opening. “. . that pretty urethra of yours.”

there - that’s where you felt the exact pressure of yourself gushing out, creaming down his cock with such a vivid risqué spray.

you’re still getting over it as your jaw dangles open—mouth cutely wholly ajar and all. as nanami continues to toy with your slobbering clit, he silently grumbles whatever extra clitoris facts underneath his breath. a single finger that was tucked inside of your gummy orifice gradually transitions into two, and you let off the sweetest moan that rang against his ears.

“such a pretty pussy from an even prettier girl,” and his words smokily deepen as he loudly ‘pops!’ both fingers out of your drenched slit. it’s all puffy now, drooling from each slippery flap. nanami sits up before re-aligning his milky-covered tip against your sobbing cunt.. “mini pop quiz,” he grumbles, letting off a deep sigh once his flushed crownhead languidly slides its way between the split of your folds. you’re laid back against the desk with a pout twisting across both sides of your lips.

pop… quiz?

nanami adjusts his crooked glasses by shoving them slightly back with a middle finger before humming. “riddle me this,” and a sweet moan drags its way past your throat once he’s smearing his bulbous tip across your sticky entrance.

left-to-right and it’s hypnotic. “what is the majorly important gland of the clit that helps lubricate the vagina properly?” and nanami presses a large hand on your tummy, simpering at the cute silence for an answer. with a snicker, he tilts his head at your quirked brow. “oh- c’mon. this is easy, we talked about this two days ago.”

“t . . the um-” you stammer, the throbbing of your clit increasing with each delicious second that passed. with your mind joggling its empty memory, you inhale a moan that was desperately trying to escape from your spit-stained lips. “the clitoral glands?”

“close, but no, dumb girl,” and with a smack, nanami whacks his swollen tip against the front of your weeping pussy. you finally release that moan you were holding onto with heave after heave puffing out your chest. “try again. this time, actually use that brain for me, yeah?”

you pout, and after about four seconds you left off a whiny grump. “is it . . the skene’s glands?”

“good girl,” and you let off a needy mewl once he rubs a palm against your pussy. his personal way of praising you without words, even after calling you a ‘good girl.’

it’s a soft, enticing rub that smears the entirety of your slick around his entire palm, coating it right away.

you’re so wet - pathetically drenched that you stick your candied juices all over the prints of his hand.

“it’s very important that you know about the skene’s glands. just like how important it is for me to teach you how soaked you are,” and you don’t even realize it, but the second he spanks against your cunt once more with his palm, you’re squirting . . again.

it’s a thick shiny geyser that ends up spurting out of you with a loud pssssh! and your toes curled in ecstatic rapture. you’re whining at how sudden and abrupt it was, and nanami just shakes his head with a wry smile. a hand maneuvers in a circular rotation against your pussy as you finish your three-second monumental high. “f- fuuuck, fuck!” you whimper out the same colorful syllables through your lips as your eyelids droop.

as you’re panting, still feeling the scattered bundles of paper rub and prick against the back of your skin, you eye nanami through murky peripherals. pretty ‘n glossed-eyed, you let off a shaky puff before moaning. “did . . did i pass?”

“not quite,” nanami takes his glasses off. they were still a bit soaked from earlier, a bit of your own droplets of literal juices fogging the lenses before he gave it a sweet lick. filthy. nanami squints at your twitching body before slithering a fat thumb down your tender, convulsing pussy for the nth and last time. “think we still have more basics to go over,” and he positions his head right back down between the eagle-spread valley of your legs, whistling riiiight between your driveling, puffy slit.

“besides,” and you whine once he gives your cunt its final, sloppy spank. “my only criticism— is that, we could work on that squirt velocity a little bit more,” and he pats your cunt before staring straight at your pulsating entrance, hungrily licking his lips.

“i wouldn’t mind training her, heh.”

[lymtw]

Know You're Enough

Toji can't ignore the sounds of your moans and whimpers through the wall. He's sitting on the couch, in the living room, unable to do anything about it, because you're still mad at him, and he's frustrated as hell, because he's so painfully hard, that he can see his dick twitching against the front of his sweats. He refuses to take care of it himself when he knows you're only a room away. To his convenience, you're already in the mood—clearly—but to his inconvenience, you're punishing him. You're scattering his name into your moans to throw salt in the wound, to really make it unbearable, and truthfully, it's getting to him.

Toji reached his limit when he heard you let out a sharp gasp, followed by the sound of those cries you let out when you cum hard. He strides over to your shared bedroom, opening the door to reveal your naked lower body, and your tank top scrunched up over your chest. His breath hitches, the throbbing in his pants intensifying as he rakes his eyes over your frame and absorbs the entire sight of you.

"You're really gonna get yourself off to the thought of me, when i'm right outside?" His incredulous tone doesn't do a good job of hiding the desperation that led him to barge into the room where you're splayed out so indecently.

"Mhm..." you hum, blissfully. You release a heavy, satisfied sigh. "That's exactly what I just did, 'cause you're on a time out," you say, tugging your shirt back down and pulling up your underwear, before sitting up to search for your shorts. "Don't worry. I finished. I'm done torturing you."

He can't let it be over. This normally wouldn't be enough to satisfy you. From what he heard, it seems like you only came once.

"Baby, no," he almost whines. He's outwardly desperate for you, having gone way too long without being allowed to touch you intimately. "Let me. Please," he says, climbing onto the bed. His hands make contact with the skin of your bare legs and glide over the length of your shins, continuing their way up to part your thighs to make room for him to wedge himself between them.

"I did what you asked of me. Said I was sorry and repeated after you to call myself dumb." It was such a silly moment that made the storm in your mind subside for a minute or two.

Toji resists the urge to smile when he sees you suppressing the curl of your own lips. His hands go to your waist, not stopping there. The warmth of his palms travels up your edges, meeting the sides of your breasts and briefly palming the tops of them, in order to get to your shoulders. He grips your shoulders, using them as leverage to guide you back down to the bed. Focus is embedded into his features as he takes the thin material of your shirt between his rough fingertips and peels it off your skin until he reveals the gorgeous view of one of his favorite parts of your body.

Like a domestic cat, he lays his body on you, and plants his face between your breasts. It doesn't take long for him to begin appreciating your chest, pressing multiple slow kisses to your skin. He's basking in the softness you withheld from him.

"What else do you want from me, doll?"

You let out a small, quiet sigh, through your nose. You feel a little irritated with yourself for not even putting up a fight against his affection. You always say you're not going to let him touch you for a certain amount of time, as punishment for the dumb things he does, and yet somehow it always ends up this way—him nuzzling into your chest.

"I want you to stop being a jealous maniac," you say, the words coming out softer than you intended them to, as you welcome defeat and run your fingers through his soft, dark locks.

"Mm-mm, anything but that," he responds, muffled by your warm skin. His hands caress your body, rubbing your waist and massaging your hips in a manner that would induce relaxation under different circumstances. You can't let yourself fall into that comfort until you've talked things out.

"Toji, you flashed your gun at someone who mistook me for somebody else." You attempt to keep yourself composed in order to communicate the issue efficiently. There's no need to raise your voice when you have him right there, lying comfortably on your chest.

"Mhm, I did that," Toji confirms, before planting a soft kiss on the inner side of your right breast. "The dickwad must have been real blind if he had to get so close." He feels your chest rise with a deep inhale, then hears you let out the breath. With that, he knows you're still upset and he has to further elaborate on his actions. "He had his filthy paws on you and everything. I did what I thought was best to get him to fuck off."

You hum in mere acknowledgment. "Uh-huh, that's definitely the way to go about it. God forbid you verbalize your discomfort before threatening to use a bullet."

You feel a warm puff of air on your chest, similar to the sigh you let out, but less audible, and then a kiss directly between your breasts.

"I was right next to you, ma. He was looking at you in a way that he shouldn't have been. He looked at you the same way that I look at you. You don't need that from anyone else. And that stupid ass thing he said about supposedly feeling like he's seen you somewhere? He clearly said it to get a good look at you from up close."

"You really are insane, aren't you?" You ask, rhetorically, stilling the hand that's on the back of his head.

"Doll, I hate the idea of pulling the gun out in front of you. I don't ever wanna have to use it and scare you in the process, but he was actively trying to steal you from me. If he were just ogling you from afar, I might've acted differently, but he touched you. He fucking touched you. Who does shit like that?"

Toji can feel his blood boiling again, so he refocuses on your chest. He doesn't want to think about what happened anymore, when he's in his happy place, where he knows he belongs.

"Alright, Toji. Take a deep breath." You softened your voice to simmer down his emotions. You resumed the movement of your fingers carding through his hair, aiding him in calming down more.

He does as you say and releases a heavy breath. It's riddled with his discontented feelings. "You're supposed to be mine," he mumbles, before finally latching his lips around your nipple.

Toji needs reassurance, too. Him being an attractive, enormous, hulking man, has nothing to do with how secure he feels around you, his lover. It's easy to think that because he manages to turn heads wherever he goes, that he'll be fine when you get those same reactions, but the way you have him now, is proof that insecurity can reach even him. He needs to know that he's not going to lose you so easily, especially to someone as ridiculous as the man who managed to unsettle him.

You look down at him as he takes all the comfort he needs from your chest. "I'm all yours, Toji. You're the only one who will ever get a pass for that kind of psychotic behavior."

He hums, releasing your breast, before resting the side of his face down on your chest. "You make it sound like i'm toxic towards you."

Your chest jumps as you laugh, a gesture that makes Toji lift his gaze to look at you. Your expression managed to make him lighten up a little more.

"You're crazy, but I love you, regardless."

He groans, the sound cushioned by your soft skin. You're the one thing that holds up his sanity, yet somehow you're also the one who tests it by saying things like that to him.

"Let me have you," he says, his kisses beginning to trail up, towards your neck. "Please, let me have you, mama."

"Are you gonna keep threatening people when you get jealous?" You ask, your lips curling as be continues to kiss your delicate skin.

"Mhm," he confirms. "Like I said and you said," he speaks, into your neck, "you're mine. If people don't know it, i'll make sure they get it on the first go. There's no need to make mistakes."

You laugh. "Your possessiveness is intense."

"You're not a joke, to me," he says, looking at you. His expression is as serious as what he just said.

You grab the rolled up fabric of your shirt, with the intention of covering yourself. The ambience has gone more serious and it feels wrong to be so exposed in the moment.

"Don't cover yourself, yet. I want you, baby. Please." His knuckles graze your cheek, affectionately. Despite your chest being out on full display, his attention is centered on your face. He's reading your expression. You were laughing a few seconds ago and now you're as still as him.

"Be nice to me. I don't want you to be rough, this time." It's back to back gentleness with the way your voice reaches him and your smile manages to soothe the remaining sting he's feeling. It's like you're showing him the way you want him to handle you. "I'm yours, Toji. No amount of speed or aggression from your body against mine, will have an impact on the fact. Okay?"

He keeps his eyes on you for a couple more seconds, like he's letting your words sink in and fully envelop him. He repositions his hand, so that he's cupping your cheek, and a couple slow strokes of his thumb against your skin gave him the courage to lean down and kiss you. The second his lips meet yours, he wants more. Infinitely more. He's chasing kiss after kiss from you, utterly drunk on the feeling of your hands pulling him closer by his shirt. He'll consume you, at this point.

"Hm?" You hum, still awaiting his response.

"Got it, baby," he says, before connecting his lips to yours once more. He peppers the rest of your face with kisses, luring giggles from you at the barrage of affection.

This isn't the first time Toji has been revoked of his 'you privileges', and gotten them back, instantly. This has occurred many times in the years that you've been together. Going into a relationship with him, you never thought he'd be the jealous type, much less the type who would threaten someone's life over getting overly cozy with you. The first time he pulled something similar to this, it was a little frightening. You knew he kept a gun on him sometimes, but you figured it was strictly for life or death situations.

You were wrong.

Some weirdo was getting too comfortable with you, hand wrapped around your wrist and all. You clearly remember Toji being visibly bothered, because someone thought they could just swoop in and steal your focus from him. He watched for a minute or two as the man took in your beauty and complimented you on every aspect of your appearance. He really did his best to get you to follow him to his table, and though Toji thought the whole thing was a pathetic attempt, he couldn't help the feelings that began to bubble up as the man squeezed your arm. Toji did a dog whistle to grab the man's attention, and when he looked, he lifted his shirt, just enough to show the grip of his gun. Your stomach twisted and you felt like your heart was going to lurch out of your chest. The stranger just stood there for a second, looking at Toji, condescendingly, as if to insinuate that he knew he was bluffing, and when Toji reached for and grabbed ahold of the gun's handle, that same cocky man paled. He didn't even have to pull out the whole gun—the man had walked away by the time he had the grip in his hand— but you remained worried that he would notify someone about what happened, so you and Toji left.

To this day, Toji still scares people that way when he notices them invading your space in a manner that doesn't sit right with him. You're not scared anymore, when he does it, but the frustration of having to ditch wherever you are, in fear of being ratted out by whoever Toji threatened? It's still there, and you feel it every time. You know he does it out of love for you, but sometimes you wish he would take a second to talk to you, before he even thinks of hurting someone.

Toji has kissed your entire torso, by now. Your chest wasn't exempt from his attention, despite the amount of time he already spent on it. If anything, he refined the love he gave it with purposeful movement and significance towards every spot his lips brushed.

He nears your lower abdomen, wet kisses placed beneath your navel, going lower and lower until you can feel his breath being filtered through the front of your underwear. His hands go beneath the elastic band, cupping your hips without restriction as he kisses your clothed pelvis.

Your breathing picks up the slightest bit when his lips meet your slit through the thin layer. His tongue comes out and he does an experimental swipe of it against the fabric. You feel the space immediately heat up, from your arousal and from the warm wetness of his tongue, itself.

"Stay still for me, mama," he murmurs, kissing your inner thighs after spotting the quiver in them. "You nervous?" He asks, with a small curl of his lips.

"Of course, I am." You look into his eyes as you confirm it. You love him so dearly, that even after the years you've spent together, you still feel lightning coursing through you when he has you this way. This electric feeling doesn't prevent you from letting yourself enjoy what he gives you, nor does it hinder you from touching him and making him feel good. You don't become more hesitant towards him, because by now, you're well aware that your love for him coexists with butterflies. They reside in you, and are able to be lured out by him at any instant, despite your knowledge of the fact that he would gladly be someone's cause of death if they don't keep themselves in check around you.

"Love you," he says, kneading your hips as he leans in to press a few more warm kisses to your thinly veiled cunt. His eyes dart up to your face when you don't respond—he's a little lost on why you didn't say it back— until he sees how despite the way you just admitted to your nerves, he has you entirely at ease. You have a hand flat on the sheets, occasionally moving against the material beneath it, while your other hand rests on your stomach. Your chest is steady and your attention is on the ceiling, your expression serene—ethereally so.

His hands run down your hips, warm palms squeeze and feel up your thighs, gaining your eyes on him again. "You're not gonna say it back?" He asks, his voice deep enough to make the ache between your legs just that much more intense.

"You already know I do," you say, contrasting his demeanor with a giggle. He looks like a needy puppy with that glint that presents itself in his eyes.

"Mhm, doesn't mean I don't wanna hear it, again, or do you not love me, right now?"

You're caught by surprise with that one, a small, almost inaudible gasp, leaving you at the words. "I love you all the time, Toji. I love you now and I loved you earlier when I was pissed. It's not going away."

He's a little more impatient for you, now. His movement doesn't speed up, but his heartbeat is in his ears, and there's a tremble in his hands as he reaches for the elastic of your underwear. He pulls the garment down, wanting to smell and taste you more clearly. His cock jumps at the sight revealed. You're still so wet. He lets out a shuddered breath, now that your lower half is completely bared for him. His mouth comes closer and closer and his tongue comes out, making contact with your throbbing cunt for the first time.

"Toji." The sound is soft—unexaggerated—as his tongue laps at your warmth, tasting the sweet wetness that coats it. He could stay like this for hours, worshipping your entire body, while you touch him and gift him the prettiest sounds ever. He can't get enough of you, which is why when it looks like you're going to close your legs, he pins them down, entirely. His hands splay over your thighs and he keeps them there, because he isn't going to fight to give you the pleasure you deserve. He'll love on you until your body is begging him to stop, because he knows that your mouth can be misleading, at times.

He's taking it slow, just like you wanted him to. The most stimulation comes from him lightly sucking on your clit for brief moments at a time, just to hear your moans get the slightest bit louder. Every time he releases your sensitive pearl, he goes back to running his tongue through your drooling slit, the tip of the muscle nudging your clit, causing it to throb with need. Each graze of the wet warmth, makes you wonder if you should ask him to go faster, though you were the one who asked for this gentleness. You don't want to seem indecisive or come off as doubtful that he can make you cum this way. You know he can, but god, you want so much more. You feel like you're the one who's going insane with every flick of his tongue.

"That good, mama? Or do you want it slower?" He gives you a teasing smirk. Toji knows how you are. You say you want him to be soft and gentle with you, but when the time comes, you want more than what's given to you. You delve into greediness as seconds turn to minutes. You both have nowhere to be. Time is yours, and Toji intends to take advantage of that. He's going to fulfill your needs the way you want him to, but that doesn't mean he loses awareness of your little ticks. He feels the small twitches of your legs beneath his hands every time you feel his nose bump into your clit just before it gets hit by his tongue. He sees the way your hips sink into the mattress and your body quivers when they rise, again.

"G-Good. Don't go any slower," you respond, holding your voice as steady as possible.

"Mm... Faster?" He asks, his tone so calm yet sultry, that you can't tell if he's patronizing you. He doesn't miss the way light flashes, briefly, through your features. In an instant, you regain your composure. A simple hum is offered in response—a wordless brush off of his suggestion. The sound makes Toji smirk. How stubborn of you.

"I won't hold it against you," he says, pressing a kiss to the crease that joins your pelvis and your thigh, leaving an echoing feeling of need in your core. "Just say the word, ma." He presses more kisses to your skin, as if he's trying to persuade you to let him devour you.

"Mm-mm, this is good."

It's not what he's trying to get out of you, but he can keep going until you're hanging on by a measly thread.

He continues on with that same pace—licking, suckling, prodding—so gently, luring the cutest little mewls from you. It took a little longer, but eventually, your body started trembling with impending release.

"I'm gonna- Toji," you cry, tightening your fists around the sheets as he slowly circles his tongue over your clit, focusing on it entirely. Your moans grow needier and needier as you near the edge through such delicateness. The anticipation is killing him. He wants you to be louder. You wouldn't hate him for bringing you more pleasure, would you? It's a risk he's willing to take.

Without another doubt, he's messily making out with your cunt, causing more of your sweet nectar to drool out at a more rapid pace. Your breath hitches, a sharper rendition of his name cried out. Your hand reaches downward and grabs a fistful of his hair, tugging on it as he continues to ravage you. Your moans sound absolutely filthy. He doesn't detach his mouth from you for a single second. His hands finally release their pin on your thighs, allowing you to fully suffocate him when they shut around his head. His arms hook around your thighs, a harsh grip on them to keep you from scooting away from his relentless mouth when you cum. It's another strong, orgasm, that has you arching your back off the mattress and squirming as he continues devouring you through the intense sensation. Your hips roll in an attempt to get more of his mouth on you. Only when you start whimpering and attempting to twist out of his hold, does he ease up. He goes back to the original pace, soft kitten licks through your slit to lap up every drop of your sweetness, earning small twitches from your body, due to the sensitivity you feel.

You release the hold you have on his hair and relax your legs, unbending them and letting them fall comfortably on the bed. He finishes you off with a few kisses, thin strings of his saliva and your cum sticking to his lips, before snapping every time he loses contact with your cunt. His warm palms caress your thighs—a comforting gesture, as your sounds come to a halt and all that is heard is your breathing.

"You're so impatient," you playfully chide, a breathy laugh following.

"You wanted more," he responds, one more kiss placed on you before he licks his lips clean. "I'm really good at reading you."

"Yeah? You think so?" You ask, a teasing grin on your face.

"I know so," he responds. "Wouldn't it just be the worst if we've been together this long, and I didn't know almost everything about you, by now?" He repositions himself, now sitting on his knees to start ridding himself of his own clothes.

You manage a hum and a nod as you watch Toji pull off his shirt.

"Good thing that's not the case, and I do know basically everything about you. Down to the way your body reacts to me— the signals you create that let me know you're gonna cum all over my tongue, when your pretty mouth can't form words."

"So vulgar," you say, through flustered giggles.

"You can take it, mama," he teases, a smirk growing on his lips as you watch him pull off his sweats. His eyes stay on yours, as he kicks them off, letting them slide off the bed and onto the floor, before crawling back between your legs. You can feel his clothed hard-on pressing against your core as he takes your lips in his again. He's addicted to the feeling of your warm body against his.

His hands come down to cup your waist, his fingers molding into the soft flesh with every squeeze they offer. He pauses the make out, small breaths leaving him.

"Baby," he says, his voice almost a whisper, his lustfully darkened eyes narrowed on your starry ones. "I'm gonna kill the next person who hits on you in front of me." He goes back in for a few more quick kisses. "I'm not joking. I can't keep sparing them."

"Shh... All yours, Toji," you murmur, softly, pulling him back in to continue the flow of kisses. Your hand goes to the nape of his neck, the other settles on his shoulder. You hear him groaning quietly into the kisses as he continues grinding his hips into yours.

"Fuck, doll," he groans, pausing his lips on yours once again. "I need you."

You laugh, a warm sound that just adds on to his desire to have you. "So, take me, baby. I'm ready for you."

He gives you one more peck, the slyest smirk playing on his lips as he watches you lean forward for another one, only to be met with nothing.

"Ass," you grumble, playfully shoving his chest.

He chuckles, a deep rumble of a sound as he sits back to remove his boxers. He's not even ashamed of the mess of precum that accumulated in them. If anything, he's surprised he was able to hold in his load this entire time. Pleasantly surprised, because every drop will go to you, as always.

One minute you're sitting up to fully remove your shirt, pulling it up over your head, the next, in what seems like a flash, you're pushed back onto the bed, hands pinned above your head.

You giggle, looking up at him with a lingering smile. "Gentle."

"Mhm," he hums, leaning down to kiss your neck. "So gentle." Two misleading words that don't prepare you for the sensation of his teeth sinking into the crook of your neck.

Your bubbly laughter homes into his ears when his tongue runs over the indentations, luring a huff of a laugh from him.

You feel his cock run through your slick folds, his hips moving back and forth, slowly. Quiet breaths fill the silence that takes over the intimate moment. Toji runs his length through your slit one more time, before finally pushing his tip in. You gasp, feeling his cock begin to drive into you.

"F-Fuck, baby, let me touch you."

"In a minute." He sounds so calm and collected, but you can feel the grip he has on your wrists tighten and the bluntness of his nails pressing into your skin.

"No. Please."

"In a minute," he repeats.

"Pretty please?"

"You're so conflicting, mama. Love that you're begging, but at the same time, you're not listening." His hips draw back and thrust right back into you, his cock filling you up entirely, again.

"Oh fuck. Okay. Please, Toji," you whine.

Toji hums dismissively and picks up a rhythm that manages to get you to stop thinking about your pinned wrists. He lures soft, little moans out of you, listening closely as he plants warm, wet kisses on the side of your face, from your temple to your jaw.

"Just let me be good to you, baby. Alright?"

You hum, nodding your head.

"Yes?"

"Please, yes."

His thrusts become even more precise as he focuses on bringing pleasure to both of you, deep groans and grunts blending together with your higher pitched moans. A few minutes pass and you feel the pressure on your arms ease up, your hands free to roam without restriction. The first thing you do is cup his jaw and bring him in for breathy kisses. You keep your hands on his face and he lets you turn his head in every which way to cover him with kisses. Your affection is intoxicating, and he can't get enough of it. He lets out a breathy laugh when you practically have a make out session with the scar on his lips, your melodic sounds of pleasure released against the strike as he continues to fuck into you. The last kiss you leave on the cicatrix is a big one. One that makes the obnoxious kissy sound and everything. He swipes his tongue over his scar, as if he's trying to catch remnants of the sugar you coated it with.

"Love you," you say, eyes darting over his handsome features and the lovestruck expression they create. You feel the way his hips stutter against you, his abs tensing with restraint before he recomposes himself. You glide your hands up and down his arms and repeat yourself for him. "Love you so much, Toji. I'm yours."

"Fuck— I fucking love you. You're all mine. My baby." He mutters more inaudible curses under his breath, his grip on your waist getting harsher and his thrusts growing quicker, with every sweet confirmation you offer. You whimper, nails digging into his biceps as you withstand the feeling of his cock relentlessly brushing that spot within you that makes you melt beneath him.

"Oh fuck, i'm close." He groans, feeling the way your walls spasm around him at the words. "Yeahhh, you want it, huh, baby? Want my cum?"

A shaky breath leaves you, your face observed up close and personal by Toji, through lust-brimmed, enamored, obsessed eyes. You squirm under all of him— his zoned in attention on you, his touch, his hot, tacky skin, his cock buried inside you—dragging in and out of your soft walls, in a manner that has your toes curling to the brink of actual pain. His fingers find your clit and rub it in rapid circular motions, causing your body to jolt at the sudden intensity of the enhanced pleasure.

You look up at him with your sparkling eyes. "Please... P-Please, Toji? I want it. Want you," you utter, as he brings you closer to your own orgasm.

"Fuck, okay. Okay, baby, gonna give it all to you." His hips pick up their pace a little more and he buries his face into your neck. You can hear the string of grunts and shuddered breaths that pair with his unraveling, right beneath your ear. Deep moans and pants flow past his lips, and his nails begin to leave crescent shapes on your sides. You feel his hot breath on your neck, the open mouthed puffs of air accompanied by the lewd sounds of him filling you with his warm, creamy cum. As he continues rutting into you, riding out every second of his orgasm and then some to get every last drop of his cum into you, he bites your delicate skin, the placement only a few centimeters above where he bit you the first time. He stays there for a few seconds, breathing heavily through his mouth and nose, before he loosens his bite, the gesture transitioning to sloppy kisses over the wet, saliva-coated indentations.

"Cum, doll," Toji mutters, feeling the way your cunt flutters around him when his fingers relocate your throbbing bundle of nerves. Your head sinks back into the pillow, allowing him to drag his kisses up the column of your neck, to feel the vibration of your sounds beneath his lips. Your nails go to his shoulders, dragging across the toned area of muscles, surely leaving behind some scratches. You cry out in utter bliss, your force of an orgasm echoing through your entire being. "There you go, mama," Toji purrs, in response to your body releasing the tension that came with the intensity of your pleasure. You tremble, your small, rapid whimpers and breaths evolving into full blown, unholy moans. "So, so pretty," he drawls out, engraving yet another one of your euphoric expressions into his memory. His fingers leave your clit, and his hips slow down to the point of merely grinding into you, to lure those final little whines out, before stilling entirely.

You shut your eyes to focus on calming your heaving chest for a few seconds, and when you open them again, you have the prettiest pair of green eyes staring down at you. You give Toji a lazy smile and a laugh, a sight that makes him feel warm and fuzzy inside. His heart races as he absorbs the visuals of your post-orgasm haze. Your luminous eyes devour him, that little satisfied smirk on your face is everything— god, he loves that you laugh even more at the way he can't stop staring at you.

Just like that, Toji is reminded of what got this sight revoked from him in the first place. He still doesn't feel like he's in the wrong for wanting to murder anyone who has far from just friendly intentions with you, but as you caress his face and hold his gaze with that tender look in your eyes, his desire to kill those who openly lust after you, becomes entirely justified in his mind. He's lost all reason to hold back. There's no longer any part of him that would feel remorse or guilt, even if you can't look him in the eyes for days after the matter. He'll grovel as much as he has to, to get you to give him your eyes, again. You'll just have to agree to disagree on this, because yes, you come home to him, you sleep in the same bed as him, you kiss and hold him, the body concealed by your clothes is a secret between you and him, you get tangled up in sheets with him and the lot of it— but he can't risk losing you to someone who's possibly better than him and searching for all the exact things you have to offer. You're for him, as he is for you.

Toji doesn't care how clingy he appears when you finish getting cleaned up and ready for bed. You carelessly toss yourself onto the mattress and pull the blanket over your body while you wait for Toji, who took the steps and walked around the bed to make it to his side. He finds your body beneath the covers and immediately rolls on top of you, adhering himself to you, again. His head rests on your chest, his arms wrapped tight around your body.

You're already prepared to give him the intimate aftercare that comes with days like this. You don't mind that he's heavy and that he's crushing you or that he's taking up all your space, again, after having been so close to you a little while ago. You'll do this as many times as you need to for him to understand that he's wanted and loved by you.

You press a kiss to the top of his head, and murmur a quiet 'love you'. Your fingers run through his damp hair, your nails gently scratching the back of his head, while your other hand rubs his back. You feel the extra warm skin of his shoulders, where you paid no mind to the pressure your nails applied on it, earlier.

"Does that hurt?" You ask, lightly tracing a couple of the mildly inflamed lines. He hums in denial, but you let up, anyway, and continue to just rub his back.

He groans quietly at your soothing touch, nuzzling further into you. "I'm yours, too, ma. All yours," he mumbles. "I don't want anyone else and I don't wanna see you with anyone else."

You smile softly at his admission. "You're more than enough for me, Toji. There's no one I want more than you— no, there's no one I want other than you," you correct. "You know how much I love you?"

"Mm... How much?" He asks, waiting for you to give him a number or even just an elongated 'so much', but instead, you surprise him with:

"I wouldn't be able to tell you."

He chuckles. "Really?"

"Yeah, really. If you want something accurate, I'll never shut up."

"Good thing I like when you talk my ear off. You wanna give me an inaccurate idea of how much?"

You hum like you're in thought, a giggle following when he pinches your waist, encouraging you to tell him. "I love you a lot, Toji. So much more than I will ever be able to say or show. We would have to conjoin our minds for you to understand exactly how much I love you, but even then, once our minds separate, your estimate will be entirely off again."

He lifts his head off your chest, and waits for his eyes to adjust to the darkness of the room. The moonlight seeping through the spaces between the curtains is the only source of light that allows him to get a mediocre view of you. "That's inaccurate?" He asks, looking at you with clear disbelief when his eyes finally adjust. You nod, smiling through the warmth that spread on your cheeks. "Now, I wanna know how much you love me, with complete accuracy. I have all the time in the world to listen to you, baby. Just keep talking to me." He presses a kiss to your cheek before lying back down on your chest and wrapping his arms around you, again.

You hugged him as tight as you could for a few seconds. The sound of you straining yourself made him laugh, because not only did he not let out a single groan, but you tired yourself out even more. You rested your arms on his back and just shut your eyes. It was the warmth and weight of his body on you, the feeling of his arms keeping you firmly against him, the security, that managed to lull you to sleep. Toji dozing off was simpler than that, because all he needs to be able to sleep soundly, is for you to be around.

[lightseoul]

a/n. second time writing from bkg's perspective. this was so fun! (1.1k)

the moment that cemented bakugou’s resolve to marry you wasn’t exactly grand.

it wasn’t your first kiss.

or the first time you made love to each other.

not even the first time you met his nerd-ass friends or his (slightly) overbearing parents. although those two come as close runner-ups.

no, it was rather a random saturday morning after you spent a night at his place, now clad in what he thinks is nothing but your intimates and a burnt orange t-shirt of his that drapes loosely over your frame.

and as he enters the kitchen and closes the distance between the two of you with a few strides, he can’t help but wonder what you’re doing—deeply focused on your laptop—when you’re probably the one who’s extra pedantic about not bringing work home.

“morning,” he grunts, leaning down to kiss your cheek, which you happily accept. although, to his chagrin, your eyes remain on your computer screen, not even sparing him a single glance.

he knows it’s fucking embarrassing, how strongly you elicit feelings within him without you even fucking trying, but he can’t stop the frown that takes over his face even if he attempted to fight it.

shaking off the irrational disappointment from not even being ignored, he rounds the kitchen island and starts brewing the two of you coffee.

“by the way,” he starts, glancing at you over his shoulder, “the old hag’s birthday is coming up. she wants to have dinner with just the four of us, or some shit.”

“i know,” you simply pipe up from where you’re seated on one of his fancy bar stools, gaze still glued on whatever the fuck it is that’s keeping your attention from him.

he turns to you, a manual coffee grinder in tow. “you do?”

at that, you finally look up at him, an innocent expression etched across your features. “you don’t remember? i asked you when your parents’ birthdays were way back in march.”

way back in march.

back when you unanimously decided to decisively end the dating phase and become boyfriend-girlfriend.

“yeah?” is the only thing he manages to get out.

you let out a soft laugh that’s nothing but music to his ears. “yeah, dummy.”

before you can get to see the red that’s most definitely creeping up to his cheeks, bakugou turns his back against you, returning to busying himself with crushing the beans into fine powder and pouring lukewarm water into the machine.

only a few months before reaching a full year together, and you still manage to make him fucking blush.

over the most mundane things, too.

when he first got into his very first relationship with you at the ripe age of 28, he thought he’d outgrown and was way past the embarrassing shit that the human body was capable of when dealing with anything remotely close to romance.

it didn’t take him long enough into your relationship to find out he was so, so wrong.

sighing, he pours out the cup of ground beans onto the filter, finally pressing the button and bringing the coffee maker to life.

you must be done with what’s highly likely is work by now.

but chancing a glance at you, he’s once again met with palpable disappointment when the very same sight greets him.

before he can rein them in, the words come tumbling out of his lips.

“the fuck is so important on that laptop?”

his booming voice must’ve caught you off guard, because you startle ever so minutely in your seat.

“sorry,” he quickly adds on, albeit through a mutter; frustration with himself and his inability to modulate his voice added to the increasingly long list of emotions he’s having to fucking deal with right now.

waving him off, you shoot him another one of that disarming smile of yours. “‘s funny that you ask. i was just about to ask you for your opinion.”

with that, you gesture him to come close with your fingers. curious, he once again rounds the island, ultimately occupying the spot to your right and leaning down to peer at the small text on your screen.

before he can even get a word in, you hurriedly explain yourself. “mitsuki-san mentioned her personal sewing machine broke, so i’ve been thinking about getting her a new one.”

you point to a sleek, off-white model among what looks to be a vast array of selections, “i researched the specs and i think this one’s the best. what do you think?”

a million things course through his mind in an instant, but what he ends up sputtering out is: “you’re such a fucking nerd, you know that?”

at that, you look up at him, your seemingly perpetually moisturized lips now formed into a playful pout, and it takes everything in him not to just pull you in for a kiss and completely abandon the conversation in its entirety.

but he’d like to think he at least has the slightest bit of self-control.

even if you do wear him the fuck out on a daily basis.

“i just want to make sure it’s perfect!” you argue, shifting to stare at your laptop again and bringing him back to the present. your voice is way smaller when you continue. “…i want her to like me.”

he doesn’t even miss a beat. “she already fucking does, dumbass.”

and she really does.

the morning after bakugou first brought you to meet his parents a whopping two months into calling it official, mitsuki texted him something along the lines of having the family heirloom slash ring already adjusted to fit your finger.

he immediately called the old hag after receiving the message just to reprimand her ear off for being too fucking forward and for meddling too much.

but, if he were to be completely honest with himself, he was angry not because mitsuki was imposing, but because he couldn’t believe his mother beat him to that important realization.

the realization that maybe, just maybe, you’re the one.

and now, as he studies you as you scroll through more and more iterations of the best sewing machines on the market with your eyebrows adorably furrowed in utmost concentration, it dawns on him.

it dawns on him that that maybe just turned into a definitely.

tagging. @bunnysaursushii @yawnzzzzzzzz @cholios @kashee-h @iluv-ace @lotuslovers @elarakive @sugurusmoon

˖⁺‧₊ this one made me smile like an idiot while writing lmao. as always, reblogs, replies, and tags are appreciated <3 have a nice day!

[chiscaralight]

cw: nsfw sukuna x fem!gamer!reader. i hc that sukuna would like prsk and dti lmfao. overstimulation. choso and gojo ver linked at the bottom!

college athlete!sukuna who spots for for the first time on the field. you’re sitting in the bleachers, alone like a loser. most people tend to come with their friends to watch them play, but even in the sweltering sun, you’re still what, playing a game on your phone? he scoffs under his breath and turns his head back to his teammates, locking in for the rest of the friendly match.

college athlete!sukuna who starts to see you everywhere, nose deep in your phone, laptop, switch, whatever it is. it pisses him off for some reason and he can’t pay attention to the group of girls trying to get his attention. what is so important about those damn games?

college athlete!sukuna who slides into the seat next to you a couple of weeks later. you don’t say anything, eyes focused down on your device while the light from your screen reflects off your thin-framed glasses. he clears his throat, but no answer from you. his brows furrow.

college athlete!sukuna who finally gets your attention once you clear the level.

“what the hell are you always playing?”

the question alone has stars sparkling in your eyes as you explain the well thought out lore of your current favorite game franchise. he rolls his eyes at first at your enthusiasm, but he ends up actually getting quite invested in the storyline.

college athlete!sukuna who lets you download games on his phone, only agreeing to play them if you teach him. it leads to a couple of days where the two of you just sit together, his thick fingers trying to maneuver the small device that infuriates him so much it makes you laugh. there’s a solution you have for that, so you tell him to come over later in the evening.

college athlete!sukuna who’s not that outdated, he has a ps5 himself. he plays a sports game with his friends once in a while, but it’s not something he’d say he does often. so he’s a little unsure when you slide the controller into his hand and nudge him to play for a bit while you go change.

college athlete!sukuna who can’t focus on the game, he’s practically undressing you with his eyes. you’re wearing such thin clothing, a slightly loose tank top, and some much too short shorts. unlike him, you’re much too concentrated on the game, missing the way he licks his lips at the sight of your thighs.

college athlete!sukuna who places the controller down practically 4 minutes after you join, claiming he has something else he wants to play.

college athlete!sukuna who ends up with his hand down your underwear, toying with your clit. he makes sure to drag his fingers up and down your slit extra slow so you can focus on your game. but you’re shifting around quite a bit, mouth ajar and eyes struggling to stay open when he slides one in. you're clenching around him a couple of times, before finally letting out a shaky moan.

college athlete!sukuna who’s managed to drag you away from your game with his tongue, fail screen displayed on the tv while his head is deep between your legs, holding your thighs apart while he eats you out. those talented fingers of yours are scratching at his scalp and tugging on his hair, pulling him closer as you start to hump his face.

college athlete!sukuna who’s a little more surprised when you ride him with such ease, your pace fast and steady while he grips the fat of your ass. his eyes are moving between your face and tits that are bouncing oh-so-well, and he just can’t help but fuck up into you, matching the rhythm you’ve set.

college athlete!sukuna who smirks at you across from the class when he sees you the next day. you’re not playing anything this time, eyes surveying the students in the lecture hall until they find his. even with your shirt covering you up so well, he knows just where all the hickeys and bite marks he left are placed, giving you a wink when he sees your smile grow.

college athlete!sukuna who comes over more often, only agreeing to actually play if his cock is sheathed in that ‘gamer pussy’ of yours. and he’ll lean you back, making sure your legs are resting on his arms while his controller is under you. you whine, telling him this isn’t a good position to play, but he retorts by telling you it’s a good position to fuck. your silence is enough for him to fling the controller away and drill into you full nelson just like he wanted to.

college athlete!sukunawho won’t tell you that he does play those games on his phone when the two of you are apart. he’s taken a special liking to one:

Hatsune Miku: Colorful Stage!

what? he’s an athlete. it’s brain-stimulating and it’ll help him keep up his rhythm in the field!

speaking of stimulation, college athlete!sukuna just loves to overstimulate you. he takes pride in the fact that he's one of the only things that can draw you away from an intense match, and he'll make sure you as many times as he sees fit.

college athlete!sukuna who will hand you the disc version of a game you’ve been waiting for for months but couldn’t camp out to get, claiming it wasn’t a big deal. it was actually, he stood in line for almost 8 hours and missed a class, but the way your smaller body was brimming with excitement was enough to put it behind him

college athlete!sukuna who won’t refuse your lips wrapped around his cock as a form of thanks, heavy hand pushing you further down his thick cock while your tongue struggles to move around. such a nasty thing you are, but he’s cumming in your mouth all the same when you moan around his cock.

college athlete!sukuna who suggests that you play roblox tonight while he watches. you agree, knowing it’s just a ploy for him to tell you that you're bad at outfit picking and pick up his controller (yes his, he has a designated controller now) to show you how to get first place in Dress to Impress. and he won. such a clean victory deserves a reward, right? so you’ll have to sit on his face, but not now. he’s about to start another round.

college athlete!sukuna who’s face is blank while he watches you sleep. your shirt is ridden up and your controller is barely hanging from your limp fingers. he’ll turn the console off before scooping you into his arms and depositing you in bed. he’s about to shut the door and go home, but your whiny voice calls out to him to stay.

college athlete!sukuna who bites at your shoulder softly to wake you up. he has an early practice today that he has to leave for but he wants to see you there later on. and no devices, he wants you watching him the whole time.

choso ver here!

gojo ver here!

geto ver!

another sukuna linked to this one here!

[filmstarved]

i can fix him and fuck him.

18+ [logan x female!reader]

nobody can break through logan's walls with ease like you can. and he actually lets you, welcomes it even. he needs it to breathe and when he's ready to walk out of the gifted youngsters door, there you are again.

word count: 5,737

logan sulks. he’s so devoid of love and compassion that he sulks. he’s confused most days, too. unsure of who he is and what he even wants. the people who are somehow closest to him can’t even find their way past the fire breathing dragons that guard the drawbridge to his heart. (scott jokes that he doesn’t have a heart and that the adamantium replaced it and he’s fully pumping cold, hard metal).

logan is a man who answers to himself and doesn’t give people even the slightest chance to ask him a dumb fucking question because he’s not in the fucking mood. he’s never in the mood…unless you put him in one. usually a good one.

you earn a smile from logan as easy as the sun makes it seem to rise every morning and the moon to take its place at night. it leaves the team dumfounded. they believe if you weren’t here, logan would have left a long time ago. they’re right. logan used to search high and low for any excuse to leave. he never knew where he’d go, he’d just…go. but you didn’t dare let him out of your sight. not ever since the professor had brought you to what you call home a little over a year ago now.

deep down, he wanted reasons to stay. somewhere deep inside that metal frame…he wanted things to be right again. he’d find it tiring most days to carry around his grief and anger. but you gave him reasons to stay just one more day.

“so we’re working on that thing for charles together tomorrow right?” you asked on a wednesday, standing so cutely in the threshold of his door that it was almost annoying to him.

“so we’re catching that movie downtown with ororo and hank tomorrow right? it starts at 6!” you asked on a thursday.

“heeyyy, lo…do you possibly, maybe think you could sub for scott’s morning classes tomorrow? he has a dentist appointment…,” you shyly asked on a very late sunday night. (logan heard scott’s jokes about his heart so he made you ask. logan was the only one available.)

but behind his stoic stature and intimidating glare fixed on his face accompanied by knitted brows, he’d always say yes…to you. you were his reason for staying. he knew it but would never admit it. you knew it but played the oblivious part well. and the rest of the team would gossip about it when you two weren’t around. but as long as you were here, logan has nowhere else to be.

although as of late, you’ve been busy. much busier than usual. charles has you creating plans for a mission happening soon. when you’re not teaching mutant ethics 101 to freshmen, you’re hauled up in the lab or library; sometimes darting back and forth between the two multiple times a day leaving very little time to worry about logan.

tonight, you brought your work back to your dorm. as you cleaned up a rough draft of an exit strategy, rain began to tap lightly on the window. you had lit candles littered around the room as well as grouped on your table, a small desk lamp illuminated the surface further. as you reached up to stretch your aching back muscles, you were startled by the sound of a throat clearing.

your eyes shot to the sound at your door where logan stood, leaning against the frame; arms crossed and still like he had been glued to the spot. 

“hi lo,” you say. “y’scared me, heh.” you aren’t used to logan greeting you often, especially not this late. he’s over 150 years old, of course he’s grumpy and an early bird. you’re usually the one at his door with requests and invitations to social events he assumes can be nothing short of insufferable. he sighs, his stare dropping to burn holes in the ground. “logan, are you-“

“i think i’m gonna get out of here, bub.”

those words felt like an arrow hitting the bullseye in your chest and then another splitting the first one right through the center.

“wha-what do you mean?…you’re leaving?” you asked, confusion and frustration trembling in your voice.

“it’s too hard being here.”

with that, you stood up from your chair, beelining to him. “c’mere,” you say hushed, pulling on his leather clad arm, trying to unfold them and get him out of the door frame. he doesn’t budge and you pull “the look” that you know he can’t say no to. “come sit with me please, lo.”

he unfolds his arms which allows you to grab his hands to lead him to take a load off on your bed. your bare feet pat on the hardwood floor as you quickly go back to close the door.

you walked back over to him, assessing his body language. ever since he let you use your mutation to “read him” a few months ago, you told him you’d never do it again without his permission. one gaze into his eyes and a touch of his skin and you could feel everything wracking around in his head. anxiety, rage, hate but love, pain. it was hard to feel just for a moment and your heart cracked knowing he was riddled with those feelings constantly.

but right now you couldn’t help it, he was slouched on the edge of the bed, his head dropping to rest in his large hands, and apparently ready to walk right out of the door. your powers are amplified with a touch and even more when you can look into their eyes. from a distance, you could feel a sense of unease and something else… a pressure…built up in your stomach as you surveyed your friend. it didn’t feel bad though…it felt familiar. a good familiar. you stopped reading him and did your best to shrug off the aching stomach feeling and care for your disheveled logan.

he wasn’t emotional, like ever. he hid all that, only showing you what you wanted to see; what he believed you wished him to be — happy, whatever that was. but that couldn’t’ve been farther from the truth. sure, you want him to be happy but also just whatever he wanted to feel, you wouldn’t suppress it or try to change it to fit some ideal of who people on the outside want him to be. yes, he was one of the meanest motherfuckers you had ever met but he was your mean motherfucker. (whatever that means because nothing has ever really been clear between you two).

you walked closer to him, forcing yourself in his diabolical bubble. you stood between his legs, removing his hands from his face to wrap them around your waist. you scooped your hands under his scruffy chin, pulling up to get a look into his bloodshot eyes. oh, he’d been crying.

“lo…,” you muttered. “why were you crying, wolv?” you slide a thumb across his cheek where tears had stained the skin. “why do you want to leave?”

he pulled his face away, breaking his stare with you. he dropped his head forward to rest on your stomach, wrapping his arms around your legs so his hands rested on the back of your thighs. he began to slowly rub the exposed skin of them that your very short night shorts didn’t cover. he lifted the hem of your shirt slightly to press his hot face into the soft, cool skin underneath. he hummed into it, allowing you to feel the vibration.

“logan,” you softly moaned his name under your breath. his fingers press firmly, inching closer to the crease in the skin where your ass meets thigh.

“is this okay?” he asks lowly, when he looks up for confirmation to keep going, you’re already looking down at him nodding. “say it’s okay for me to touch you like this, bub.”

“yes, keep going, logan,” you said curtly. in your voice there is a hint of need. you hadn’t been touched like this since jean’s christmas party, tipsy off spiked egg nog in the garden with a guy whose mutation was a very wet, long tongue. flirting with him seemed intriguing in the moment, but five minutes later, it rendered itself utterly useless due to user error. the sexual tension between you and logan is so potent it usually clears out a room. aside from accidental brushes of hands and quick looks at each others lips mid conversation, neither one of you has acted on it.

his hums turn to growls and soft whimpers as your hands ran through and tugged his hair. your fingers found their way to his nape, splaying out to grip the hair there in your fist. he managed to place a single kiss on the skin right above the elastic of your shorts before you pulled his head back to scrutinize his face.

“you don’t have permission to read me,” he groaned. before you could ask how he even knew that’s what you were doing he said, “you get this serious, focused look in your eyes. i can feel you in my head.”

“logan, what are we doing?” you ask, releasing his hair and stepping out of his bubble. 

his hands drop from the absence of your thighs onto his lap and his sighs frustratingly. 

“what do you mean?” he asks, admiring your body in the dim light with a semi pressing on the denim of his jeans through his boxers.

“i’m…not doing this with you…if you’re just gonna disappear from my bed before the fuckin’ sun comes up. i’m not doing this,” you said, with your hands on your hips.

he pressed his hands into his knees to push himself up to tower over you. he took two big steps forward and stood in front of you. his hand raised up to brush the back of his fingers across your cheek to cup it and rub his thumb over the warm skin. 

he pressed his lips to yours, skillfully allowing his tongue access to it. you let him. “i give you permission,” he moaned in your mouth. “read me. feel how i feel about you…how i’ve always felt about you.”

he welcomed the hesitant slip of your hands past his jacket and under his shirt, shivering and chuckling “mm, cold” into your mouth. you rested your cool touch on his hips and with his mouth obsessed with yours, you read him. 

your head dizzied instantly and the hair on the back of your neck stood up. you had never felt anything as strong as this. you could almost taste the colors in logan’s head. your heart dropped to your stomach like you were on a rollercoaster, feeling sick from adrenaline in the best ways. and then, returned that good familiar feeling. this time buried even deeper in your stomach, moving it’s way lower…and lower until logan was swallowing the noises escaping you. before you literally passed out, you dropped your hands and took back ownership of your lips and tongue. breathing heavily, you moved away from him to collect yourself.

a beat of silence followed by a heavy sigh and a “well, say something” from logan passed and you opened your mouth to speak before shutting it again.

that…was the best thing you had ever felt. no drug could compare to the euphoria that a minute of kissing logan could bring. you could practically feel yourself lubricating and your upper thighs unconsciously squeezed together as you scrambled to find thoughts.

there were none. your mind already dumb and wanting more of him…more of the feeling. your fists planted firmly on both your hips as if you were grounding yourself to the floor to avoid buckling. you eyed the ground, looked back up at him and forwarded with another heated, taking-in-each-others-breath kiss. your hands found their way to the same place gripping the hair on his nape to which he praised the tug with a moan. he supported your balance as your whines got more whiney and needy and your hands held onto him like life support.

“lay down,” he said into your kiss. it wasn’t really a command, more of a warning because he tossed you on the bed like unfolded laundry.

he stood over you as you collected yourself, darting your tongue out to taste the spit he left behind. you propped yourself up on your elbows to get a look at the man casting a shadow over you. without the sounds of pleasure exclaiming in each others mouths, your ears absorbed the comforting sound of the battering rain. a tree branch smacked the window as thunder rumbled outside.

logan took a moment to admire your presence. starting at the top, he gazed upon your hair that he associates with vanilla and roses and the times he’d touch himself wondering how it’d feel being wrapped around his hand and pulled.

as he removed his leather jacket, he took his time mentally undressing you. feeling even more pressure build in your clit, you bore your hips down into the mattress, rolling them in circles to stimulate the swollen nub. he beheld your tits, flicking his tongue over his bottom lip at the sight of your hard buds under your very thin, white tank top. he threw his heavy jacket to the side, letting it thud in a ball on the ground.

“you look so beautiful, sweetheart,” he said, deeply enthralled by your scantily clad figure laid out in front of him. unable to stop staring, you could see the bulge in his pants get larger and it ridiculously turned you on. with you making eye contact with the crotch of his jeans, he effortlessly unfastened his belt buckle. the metallic buckle clanked to the floor as his jeans and boxers pooled around his ankles. 

he stroked himself while he looked upon you. it was like you could read his mind, because you began to touch yourself. the twitch of his lips and darkening of his eyes validated your teasing. letting yourself drop back on the bed, you caressed your body for him. one hand occupied by cupping your tit and pinching and twisting your nipple while the other is exploring the wet spot left on your panties. not being able to handle eye-fucking you any longer, he dropped to his knees on the edge of the bed between your legs. logan hooked his arms under your knees, pulling you close which in your intoxicatingly lustful brain you found funny, so you laughed.

logan spread your thighs open so he could fit in between them to leave wet, sloppy kisses all over your skin. he nibbled here and there, earning soft hisses and hums from your parted lips.

kiss kiss nibble hiss mmm kiss hum nibble nibble bite kiss suck

he spent about a minute just doing that, leaving warm welts in his mouths wake. “i need these off of you, princess.” once he had kissed his way up to the elastic of your shorts, he snapped it. you nodded and he did the honor of pulling them down and flinging them across the room like he was opening presents on christmas morning. 

he let out an amused scoff as he ran his trembling hand down his face, caught between ecstatic disbelief at the sight of your black lace panties with little black bows adorning the seams. you mentally thanked your past self for slacking on doing laundry and only having your “special occasion” panties left to wear.

“d’you know how pretty you are,” he said. his eyes traced over every inch of you in excitement like you were artwork he stole from the louvre and made out like a bandit with.

his hand disappeared to slickly stroke himself, his mouth watering in anticipation for your taste. his chest heaves as he takes in the sight of you, studying every curve prettily laid out before him; thinking about every position he wants to see you in and every way he wants to please you. without another groan inducing thought, he lunged forward to press a kiss to your lips, his tongue demanding attention. you drink his breath like liquor becoming completely intoxicated by him. he needed this, he needed you.

“need…to taste…you,” he breathed in between kisses. with this mouth obsessed with yours, his hands caress your tits, his thumbing circles on one of the nubs while he’s pinching and pulling on the other. your head falls back and your neck rolls at the sensation, earning profanities from your pretty, swollen lips. your tit misses the hand that he proceeds to run down and up your thigh to locate the spot in your panties you were playing with a moment before. as he parts from your kiss, he’s hooked two fingers under the elastic, pulling those off swiftly.

you yelp when he pushes your torso down. you stare up at the decorative ceiling as he savors you, kissing and massaging your thick thighs. he’s enjoying playing with you as much as possible before allowing himself any pleasure. he wants your juice to cover his face…his neck…his arm…the bed…the floor too when he gets you to pop like a water balloon.

“logan…please, please,” you beg, pawing at his hair. you lift your head to watch the man between your legs taking in the sight and smell of your pretty, wet pussy. even in the dim light, he could see how much you ached for him. he not so secretly got entertainment from watching you lightly buck your hips up to his face and he would’ve let it continue but your pheromones became overwhelming for him; engulfing his head in it’s enchanting aroma.

like fresh pie on a windowsill, he was drawn into you. logan opened wide to swipe one flat tongued lick up your slit. he had one goal — to knock all sense out of you, to fully engulf you in pleasure. he wants you dumb and begging for him to stay right where he is — at the mansion and also all over you. 

logan audibly sucked and popped your clit in and out of his mouth, teasing the most sensitive bit. he’d suck and pop and then lick up your slick, repeating the act. one of his big hands reached up to cup your tit, pinching and twisting and circling. from his hair to the tit he wasn’t playing with, you clawed at whatever would ground you. being eaten by logan felt like floating above the stratosphere.

your wet soaked his beard and it only made him more horny, his cock dripping and throbbing in his fist. tasting you, inhaling you, winning pretty sounds from you, knowing he’s the one making you buck up and fuck his nose only made his appetite for you insatiable. he let go of himself to push his pointer and middle fingers into your needing pussy. you hissed and cursed. the thrill of him devouring you began to reach its peak. his fingers pumped relentlessly into you, curling them to stimulate your g-spot. moans, curses, the gushing of your wet cunt, his sucking and popping and vibrating moans mixed with the rain and thunder grumbling outside filled the dorm like mozart’s symphony no. 25.

he wanted to kiss you, so he did. with his fingers still coaxing an orgasm out of you, he shared the sweet taste. he got back on the bed with you, sliding his free hand under your back to push you up to further to see the mess you were making on the sheets.

“look at how good you’re taking my fingers,” he groaned, inching closer to your ear so you could hear his dirty language loud and clear. “you can come for me, baby.” he peppered a few kisses to your forehead, removing his hand from behind you so he could press it into your stomach. this only heightened the overwhelming wash of pleasure coursing through you.

“lo…logan, i’m-“

“fuck my fingers, baby. use them…oh that’s it…that’s it…i feel that clenching, c’mon you can do it for me. go big baby, make me happy.” his dirty mouth and sporadic clit circling and pumping in and out of you with his tireless wrist pushed you over the edge. you cowered into his neck, pulling on his white tank top and biting the salty skin below his ear as your pussy obeyed, erupting with your juices. out of breath and fucking dumb already, you could feel the wet soak the sheets under your ass.

logan pulled his fingers out of you, landing a light smack on your pussy before licking you clean off of his digits. you fell back on the bed, your arms above your head as you heaved and saw stars.

“‘m not done with you, princess.” he slid off the bed, still delighted by your taste and engulfed in your aroma.

“fuuuck,” you groaned. the pulsing lightning feeling spread throughout both legs as an effect of your rocking orgasm. logan was wicked with his tongue, a devious magician with his fingers and you were his sole audience member wondering about his tricks for sleight of hand.

he quickly tossed his tank, that had tug marks from your attempt to ground yourself, to the side, his muscles flexing under his skin. as he let your post orgasm, cock-dumb brain fog clear, he spit in his hand to fuck his fist. his saliva mixed with the pre-cum leaking from the head, he groaned and sighed heavily at the feeling of giving his dick some sort of relief. you, needy for another hit of him, propped yourself up on your elbows to watch the most delectable creature pleasure himself.

just the sight of him illuminated by candles and flashes of lightning outside as he gets off to how fucked out and dumb you look was enough to have you open up again and play with yourself. the sensitivity from your swollen nub required a delicate touch but your pussy ached, clenching around nothing. his knitted brows relaxed, eyes darting from your pretty face, to your tits, to your fingers rubbing circles where his mouth resided moments ago back to look longingly into your eyes.

“you’re gonna stay,” you said. your hand reached your mouth, your tongue swiping a lick up your middle and ring fingers, wrapping your lips around them to coat them in your saliva. “tell me you’re going to stay for me,” you elaborated. your wet fingers found your aching center.

“there’s no where else i want to be,” he answered. he paced closer to the bed where you laid, his dick basically making eye contact with you as he stopped a few inches away. “you’re mine, you know that?” he noticed your hand slow, “keep going,” he commanded. logan reached out to cup your face, tilting his head to get a look at you obeying his every request. “your face…your mouth…,” his thumb swiped across your lips as he spoke. “your body…your cunt.” he leaned down to kiss your mouth, leaving a string of spit attached to your lower lip. “your laugh…your heart,” he said kindly, his hand massaging your scalp. moans earned from his praise escaped you. “you’re all mine. is that okay with you, baby?”

you’re so bewitched by his aura and his subtle touches make your heart race so fast that you can’t do anything but try to maintain his torrid eye contact and nod.

“use your words, honey.” his thumb returned to the softness of your parted lips.

“i’m yours, logan,” you said, taking his thumb in and closing your lips around it. “if you’ll stay with me, i’ll be yours forever,” you breathed around his thumb, speaking from a mix of eager lust and the terrifying need for him to not to be an asshole, just once.

“i’m not going anywhere…i promise,” he said matter of factly before leaning back down to hungrily devour your kiss. “i need to…fuck you…now,” he cursed in between swallowing moans. 

“do what you want…i’m yours,” you said just clearly audible over the storm rumbling outside. you two shared eye contact so intense that you noticed his dick twitch from your peripheral. you took his dick in your drooling mouth, reaching up to squeeze the base of him. it twitched from the warmth, pressure and tongue swiping rhythmically around his angry, red tip. you kept yourself enveloped around his length, bobbing your head to hit your gag reflex. the added lubrication drove him crazy, his abs twitching under the toned skin of his abdomen. you moaned around him purely from the enjoyment you got out of having him stretch the corners of your mouth, feeling the sting from it. 

logan reached down with both hands to hold your head steady while he sped up thrusting into your throat. your gags and gasps for air, his praise and the storm filled the room beautifully. 

“fuuuck, baby, keep that throat open for me please,” he begged. his hands left their position to find a new one — one supporting his thrusting hips, the other petting your head. “oh, you look so fuckin’ pretty with my cock down your throat…you’re taking me so good, sweetheart.”

he pulled his dick out of your mouth to smack it on your face, complimenting how gorgeous you look. he kissed and licked the mess off of your mouth.

“mm, baby i need to know how good you feel.” with that, he rounded the bed to lay down. “c’mere, baby.” you turned around, crawling on all fours to obey him. his cock in its usual place to be, in his fist, leaks pre-cum in anticipation for you to smother it with your warm, clenching pussy.

“lay down,” he said.

“damn, yes sir,” you say, jokingly annoyed with all of his demands. you lay down next to him, your knees instinctively parting slightly. he lays on his side, resting his hand on your stomach, rubbing his large hand in flat circles.

“d’you know how long i’ve thought about this moment with you?” he asked, leaning in to kiss and suck the skin in the crook of your neck. you lustfully sighed at the sensation of his hot breath. his hand finds its way between your legs again, tickling and tapping at your slit. “i want you to read me the whole time i’m inside…can you do that?”

“are you—“

“yes i’m sure, i feel so fucking good right now and i haven’t even felt you. i want you to feel that and more,” he explains, pulling your chin in to taste the desperation on you.

before he came just from your kiss and rutting against the sheets, he hovered above you. his lips stayed attached to your chest, kissing lower and lower to suck a tit into his mouth, flicking your nipple with his tongue then biting softly on the nub. his hand disappeared from the side of your head to grab hold of his shaft, flicking his tip against your clit. his head dropped as he watched and listened to your slick coating his cock. he quickly swiped up and down your pussy trying to savor every fold and feeling. his brows furrowed, not being able to resist your warmth, he lined himself up with your hole, using his hand to guide just the tip into it.

“oh…fuck,” he groaned in excitement. he pushed in just a little more which caused you to hiss. his head shot up and eyes scanned your face for any sign of regret or unsureness. “are you okay? d’you want to stop?”

“no, baby,” you giggled, lifting your arms rest around his neck, one hand always finding a way into his dark locks. “just been a while…keep going, i’m okay.”

with your permission, he pushed in a little more. he let out a deep groan at the feeling of you stretching to form perfectly around him. you gasped, pressing a hand into his chest, feeling a similar sting to the one you felt in the corners of your mouth earlier. against his want to start thrusting his whole length into you, his went slow, watching your demeanor for cues to keep going.

“you feel…fuck…like it was made for me,” he said which caused the butterflies in you to flutter their wings even faster. “are you okay?” his chest heaved and his breath fanned your face.

“fuck me…please logan,” you said. your hands reached his hips, pushing them down onto you. without wasting another minute, he did. 

he bent your knee more to press it into your chest as his hips repeatedly slammed down hard, his balls smacking your ass. with one hand giving him better access by positioning your leg higher, the other cupped and squeezed your bouncing tit.

“oh my…fucking god,” you moaned. you had let the walls of your mutation down, allowing yourself to be flooded by not only your pleasure…but the love logan feels for you plus the absolute sheer euphoria that he was experiencing deep inside of your pussy. it coursed through your body like a steam engine leaving the station. it had felt like you had been brought to five earth shattering orgasms before the one that was bound to shake you again soon.

“you know you feel so good, look at that fuckin’ fucked out smile. can you feel it? can you feel how good you make me feel, baby? don’t stop readin’ me, princess. it’s all for you,” he praised for you to hear every word.

“holy shit…mm fuckin’…ahh!” your hands couldn’t help but find their way above your head, subconsciously reaching for the bed post for something to ground you again.

“here, baby, hold onto me.” logan grabbed your wandering wrist with his free hand, slapping your hand on his chest which you pressed into as if you were pushing him away. before your cock drunk mind could register what happened, he had flipped the two of you so you were on top. 

logan looked so fucking pretty under you. you took a second to breathe and take in the view before bending your knees to put yourself in a squatting position on his cock. you placed your hands on his heaving chest for support as you started to bounce your ass on him. ‘oh this is so fun’, the thought making you giggle in elation as you drilled down your hips, rocking them back and forth to feel him stimulate the deepest parts of you. his thumb bored into your clit, drawing circles on it. 

as you kept bouncing your wet pussy on him just how he liked, logan lifted his knees up behind you and pushed you back onto them. he moved his hand away from your clit and picked his head up to watch his dick disappear deep inside you. then, he spit. his saliva landed on your pussy and stomach. he went back to stimulating you, fully realizing how much that turned you on from the tight clench around him and the extra juice running down his ass onto the sheets under you two.

he, still playing with your clit, summoned your face closer to his with the middle and ring fingers on the other hand. once closer, he grabbed your neck to kiss your fiercely. 

“you’re my good girl, huh?”

‘mhmm’ was all you could muster with his hand around your throat and his hips still ramming his cock into your stretched out hole.

“use those words for me, baby. are…mm, fuck…you my good girl?”

“ye…sss, baby i’m your…good…oh my fucking…girl!!”

“open your mouth.” he fucking spit in it. you moaned tasting him again and feeling it on your face. “good…fuckin’ girl,” he complimented, kissing you and then squeezing your cheeks to spit on your tongue again. 

your body started to go limp and your eyes were practically glued together. you could feel the searing hot orgasm burning up inside. you could feel logan in a way that you never thought possible. everything. 

his love, his passion, his longing, his fear, his anxiety, his lust, his heart…everything was yours in this moment. high on his feelings, you let your head fall back coming undone on top of him.

“oh you’re so pretty…that’s pretty, baby, keep…fuck…use me, it’s all for you.” his words took you further and further into ecstasy. it was a really good fucking trip that you never wanted to end. the pain of his cock fucking you out and his grip clutching your skin like he’d fall off earth without doing so made you moan so intensely that not even the thunder outside could compete.

he could tell you were a few fucks away from collapsing but so was he. 

“baby…you keep clenching around me like that…i’m gonna fuckin’ fill you,” he said. you kept bouncing on it, wanting him to even feel a fraction of how he just made you feel. he closed his eyes trying to last as long as possible in the heaven that he found in you. his thumbs bore into your hips as he used them to ground himself.

“i want it, baby…fill your good girl up.” you leaned down to speak into his ear and then carry on kissing his neck, letting him claim your moans as trophies. 

“fuuuuck…fuuuck,” he moaned as his thrusting became sloppy and you weren’t bouncing as much anymore. his abs twitched again along with his face. 

SNIKT!!

you hissed at the cool metal of his claws against your skin and the feel of him throbbing severely inside you as he let himself paint your walls. you thanked him in pleased moans before falling on his chest. still semi-hard inside, he kissed the top of your head to which you looked up and he gave you a proper kiss. he let himself twitch out a few more dribbles of cum inside you before pulling his claws back in to carefully rub your back.

a few beats of silence went by as you listened to each others hastened breaths and the rain tapping the glass. 

“…i love you, logan.”

“i think you know how much i love you, baby,” he said, smugly remembering how you looked coming on his dick, further escalated by his letting you read him.

you two snuggled naked under the covers and as you laid on his chest and listened to his light snoring, you read him again. 

ease and silence…and love.

[dailymanners]

If someone reaches for something at the same time as you, offer to let them take it first.

For example, you're in line at a buffet, and someone reaches for the soup ladle to get their helping of soup at the same time as you. Instead of reaching for it even faster like a kindergartner trying to grab a toy before the other kids can, instead offer to let them have the ladle and scoop their soup first.

Or you're at the grocery store and reach for a can of tomatoes at the same time as someone else, instead of trying to grab it faster like a toddler trying to grab a cookie before their sibling can get it, instead offer to let them take the can instead.

If you can, it helps to make a demonstration of it, such as saying "oh no you go first!" or "oh no you can have it!", or even just smiling and/or gesturing at the thing you're both grabbing for to let them know they can have it first. That way, if this is someone being childish and acting like a kindergartner who wants to just grab things first before other people can have it, you are letting them know that you are letting them have it out of good manners, and not because they "won" by grabbing for it faster than you. It might even make them reconsider their childish and selfish behavior if they see someone demonstrating good manners by consciously letting them have it first.

Most of the time small grabby children are going to be relatively close to each other in size and physical strength. But as we get older we have to learn better because in the world at large outside of a preschool classroom there are going to be even more variances in size and physical capabilities. In a world where everyone regardless of age just reaches faster if they see someone reaching for the can or soup ladle at the same time as them, or rushes faster to get to the cash register first if they see someone approaching at the same time as them, ect. is going to be a world where children, the elderly, disabled people, and anyone just smaller in frame/stature is going to be at a disadvantage and always going to be the last to get the can or the last to get to the cash register, ect.

So this is why we behave civilly in public and go "oh no you go first!" when someone reaches for the can or the soup ladle at the same time as us, or approaches the cash register at the same time as us, ect. It's one of the foundational blocks for having a world of cooperation and compassion instead of a world where children, elderly people, disabled people, or anyone at a physical disadvantage always come last.

[bkgsdoll]

🍮⠀⠀ notes: popular!bakugou x nerdy!reader, fluffy, college au ‿ ୧ 🍡⠀ word count: 839

everyone's either in love with bakugou or wants to be him. he always has people bombarding him with questions about his quirk or trying to get close to him. he doesnt mind the attention. bakugou carries a large amount of pride that comes along with his popularity. he's worshipped, always walking the halls with people following him.

but then theres you. a silent girl in most of his classes. you keep to yourself in your own little world for the most part with very few close friends. your seat is in front of bakugou in all of your shared lectures, and you never bothered him, not once. truth be told, he never really thought about you until a specific night.

slamming his friend's car door shut, bakugou grumbles, "you idiots." he wasted yet another good night for studying. he threw it away by partying with people he didn't even find interesting. gosh, it's already 10:30. he wouldn't be able to stay awake. but he can't just go to sleep! nono, exams are too close. he needs glue all of the information he can into his brain. kirishima had recommended getting a study buddy-- who the hell would want to actually study with bakugou?? the girls would be distracted by his "huge muscles" and "unique hair" while any guys would be begging to see his quirk in action.

fuck this! katsuki doesn't need anyones help.

that confident thought bubble changes as he walks up the stairs to the dormitories. he remembers that quiet dork in most of his classes.. you seem pretty normal for the most part. a bit of a nerd too, so he wouldn't be worried about you having the wrong shit written down. with an ashamed grunt, he decides to find your dorm.

you munch on freshly baked chocolate chip cookies, going over notes you'd gotten from yesterday's lecture. you tiredly lean back against your chair in a tiny tank top and shorts with your hair up in a claw clip. you're slightly bopping your head to the quiet music playing in the background when you hear heavy thuds of someone walking towards your room. you perk up when said person knocks on your door softly. you happily smile, thinking maybe one of your friends are stopping by. excited you made so many cookies, you hurry to the door and swing it open.

with his hands dug into his pockets and drained frown, the katsuki bakugou stands at your door.. odd. "oh!" you squealed, your hand covering your mouth. "sorry, just-- wasn't expecting you." you nervously rub your arm, leaning against the door frame.

he lazily raises an eyebrow in curiosity. "you expectin' someone?"

you shake your head. "nope.." you mutter with an awkward smile. bakugou eyes you up and down quickly, quietly clearing his throat at the small amount of clothing adorning your body. you bite your lip embarrassedly while averting your gaze. "you wanna come in?" you chirp, stepping to the side. he lets out a soft hum of confirmation, taking big strides into your dorm before you shut the door behind him. he walks over to your desk to observe your neatly written notes. "i need someone to study with-- you aren't stupid or anythin' right?" he cocks a brow, turning his head to look at you.

you hum lightly. "mm no, i dont think so.."

the scruffy boy plops down in your heart-shaped chair, flipping through the pages you had spent such precious time working on. you fiddle with your fingers shyly, biting the inside of your cheek as you watch bakugou. "..do you want a cookie?" you politely ask, pointing towards the plate on your desk, walking towards him. his head turned to where your finger was pointing.

his eyes flicker to the plate, hesitantly taking a freshly baked chocolate chip cookie and biting into it. it was soft and chewy-- and warm. his crimson eyes brighten a little, just a little. "'s not bad. would be better with coffee." he stares at the bitten cookie, cupping his other under the treat, careful not to make a mess. your bubbly self returns, offering a sweet smile. "coffee coming up!"

that day was the first of many of you and katsuki spending time together. you were never around people too often, yet alone someone as popular and liked as bakugou. and as for him, he thought you were decently likeable. you made him feel good about himself without talking about his quirk or giant pecs. you also never asked if he had a girlfriend or if he was free next friday night. you were just you.

you had talked more than he anticipated. that night, bakugou found himself quiet while you blabbed about whatever came into your head, and he didn't mind it at all. even after that study session and hanging out numerous times, you're still that one quiet nerd in the classroom. only he gets to see the chatty side of you-- and he likes that. makes him feel special.