#two drawings in a day im on a ROLL baby!
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still us
[id: two drawings of c!clingyduo, talking and laughing together. in the first, they look younger, with tommy still wearing braces and tubbo’s horns being shorter. tommy is wearing a red and white t-shirt over a white longsleeve, and a green bandana. tubbo is wearing an oversized green button-down and a light red bandana. in the second drawing, they look older; they’re both taller, and tubbo has grown some stubble. tommy is wearing a red and white shirt, a multicolored checkered bandana, and a blue cardigan with two daisies in a front pocket. tubbo is wearing a dark green flannel shirt and a brown fur-lined vest with 3 patches on it; one says “_beloved”, one is the nuclear reactor symbol, and one is snowchester’s flag. end id]
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Moonstruck
a/n: im going to try a new format for one-shots bc i dont like how my old one looked
Taglist: @starlets-things @sad-darksoul
"He's staring at you!" Your friend, Zoe, whisper-shouted in a singsong tone.
"He's such a moron," you grumbled, focused on finishing your assignment.
"Y/N, c'mon," Zoe turned to you with a serious look on her face. "You should totally just give him a chance. He's got the hots for you, hundred and twenty percent," your friend patted herself on the back.
You sighed, "That's ridiculous," before turning over to look at Sukuna for yourself.
And as your friend has said, he was already staring at you. He rested his head on his fist, and delivered a sultry look your way.
You cocked your head to the side, as if to say, what?
Sukuna mouthed back, you know what, before he lifted his head from his fist, and flipped you off.
Speechless, you gawked at the pink-haired man.
"He is so into you, girl."
"He is so not," you muttered, turning back to face your friend.
"But Y/N," she whined, "you guys are literally so cute together. Combining both of your genes will literally make the best babies."
"He's such an oaf, the most annoying man-child I've ever met," you rolled your eyes, before shaking your head.
At this point, Zoe just gave up on her matchmaking abilities, and rested her head on the desk beside yours.
All the while — across the classroom — Sukuna's twin brother, Yuuji, was no different from Zoe.
Yuuji wiggled his eyebrows at his older brother, "I see the way you look at her. Ooooh, does my cold-hearted brother have a crush?"
Sukuna glared down at Yuuji, who was making kissy faces and noises, "I should've eaten you in the womb."
Yuuji immediately dropped his act, "How dare you."
The rest of the class went by quickly; your friend said she had something to do so you just packed up your stuff.
Minutes after you left the room and entered the hallway, you were roughly pulled into what you assumed was a janitor's closet.
You heard the door lock behind you.
Even in the dark, you could still cleary make out two crimson eyes staring back at you.
"Sukuna. Why are we here?"
"Don't play dumb," he walked towards you as you kept on backing away, until your back met the wall. "God, you're so fucking annoying."
Your eyes finally adjusted to the darkness, and you saw Sukuna lean down towards you, your noses barely apart. Your breathing quickened.
"I can't stop thinking about you. You've been in my head all day," Sukuna narrowed his eyes at you.
"And just, what are you going to do that?"
Something snapped in Sukuna, he didn't even bother holding back.
You felt one of his hands roughly grip your waist, while the other tangled itself in your hair. He breathed in your scent; it was intoxicating for him.
He forced his lips onto you like an animal, before biting your bottom lip, drawing blood. You gasped, and he took the opportunity to shove his tongue inside.
This wasn't new to either of you, you've been in this little arrangement of yours for quite some time now. Albeit your friends know nothing of it; which is probably best.
"Sukuna," you giggled against his lips.
"Mm, you're so beautiful. Just can't get enough of you."
Your noses brushed against each other.
"Hah—" You found it hard to breathe.
Sukuna pulled your hair, emitting a squeal from you.
"Sukuna, please, I can't—" You felt tears sting your eyes, your mascara smeared over your cheeks.
He pressed his lips against yours, "Just for a little more. You can take that, right?"
You fervently nodded, although you felt a little dazed, and out of your mind.
The seconds passed by slowly, and the minutes passed by even slower, until Sukuna finally decided he was satisified.
He pulled away, and smirked to himself, looking at your half-lidded eyes, your mascara stained face, your lips stuck out in a pout. And as cocky as he was, Sukuna couldn't deny he was also out of breath.
Panting, you said, "You're such a jerk."
"Sure, sweetheart." Sukuna wiped your lipgloss off of his now shining lips.
"Serious, 'Kuna. You need to learn to let me breathe."
Sukuna rolled his eyes, "Pfft — as if you weren't the one provoking me."
You scoffed, and fixed your hair — or, well, attempted to, at least.
Sukuna adjusted his pants, and ruffled his unruly hair, before moving his hand to unlock the closet. You stood behind him in anticipation.
A beat passed.
"Well? What's taking you so long? Don't know how to unlock a door?" You teased, but when Sukuna didn't retaliate, you soon realized the direness of the situation at hand.
"It's not unlocking," Sukuna turned to face you, confusion mixed in his tone.
"I see that, dumbass," you muttered, sliding down the wall into a sitting position.
You were going to be here for a while.
What could you do to pass time?
#sukuna x reader#ryomen x reader#sukuna x you#jjk x reader#jjk x you#sukuna fluff#im so sick and ill#but i will never be sick of writing sukuna
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quiet love
in which your boyfriend vernon likes showing his love for you in a quiet way.
pairing: vernon x f!reader
words count: 2k
content: childhood bestfriends to lovers, fluff, domestic
warnings: so soft but very corny, contains pretty common prompts imo, vernon's love language is not words of affirmation lol, implied that kids are mean to vernon, mention of driving, drinking, loss and exes, reader is sick at one point (the flu), a lot of food/eating talk, they are so healthy youre gonna throw up, soooo much physical affection they make me SICK (holding hands, kissing, playing with each other's hairs, hugging etc), babe/baby petnames
note: omg im alive?!?!? hiii!! it's been so long since i posted a fic! this one is a birthday gift for the loml @vcrnons <3 happy birthday, u know it all already but don't forget i love u sm!!! i hope you enjoy this childhoodbff!vernon (it's ur thing) who's very very in love but very very shy to say it. hope anyone else who sees this fic enjoy too! don't forget to interact with this if u liked it, rbs are very very very appreciated! thank u<3 (also this was proofread by tired me so if there is any mistakes, ignore it pls thanks <3)
Vernon has always been a man of a few words; when you first met him in elementary school, he was the quiet boy and nothing could get him to speak apart from spinning tops and his favorite cartoons. Still, you decided to befriend that calm boy – at the time, people used to think you were only being nice but deep down you knew: you were making a friend for life.
Going through all of the different steps of childhood and teenage hood with Vernon by your side was an experience – you raised hell together, driving your parents crazy. But it was also having a best friend to experience each other’s every first times: first partners, first time driving, first time getting drunk but also first breakup, first bad haircut and first loss. You have seen each other through everything. No, you have watched over each other through everything; wherever you were, Vernon was standing two steps back, making sure you were always safe. And wherever he was, you were always standing two steps back, making sure he was always loved.
And that’s how you both fell in love. It was slow and secure; falling in love with Vernon was never complicated or painful. It was how things dropped into place and none of you ever denied it; at the time you knew you were meant to be – maybe you always did. And so, you let yourself fall into each other’s arms, a safe place, full of quiet love.
You were 24 years old when Vernon first wanted to tell you he loved you; yet, he didn’t have the courage to fess up. Having spent his whole life showing his love through actions, he had a hard time saying it out loud. After a nice date to the cinema and the restaurant, he drove you back home, small talk and look exchanged during the trip. As soon as he puts the car in park, he reaches out to hold your hand, his thumb drawing circles.
“Had a nice time tonight?” he asks.
“Of course I did,” you answer, a blush creeping on your cheeks, “You know I always do with you,” you add, reaching out to cup his cheek.
“You need to go, you have an early day tomorrow,” he tells you, kissing your palm.
“Yeah, I’m going,” you say as you reach down for your bag and open the door, “Let me know when you’re home, okay?”
“Of course,” he says as he holds your face between his hand, “You do the same,” he adds against your lips before kissing you softly.
“It’s literally two steps away, I’m already home,” you chuckle as you exit the car.
“Won’t leave until I get the text, babe,” he smiles as he leans over the center console to look at you.
You roll your eyes sarcastically at him but still, your lips go up into a smile as your cheeks reddens from the way he so apologetically loves and cares for you. This boy would do anything to make sure you see how much he adores you. So, you wave him goodbye and it’s only when you close your front door and his phone buzzes with an i’m home :) drive safe, text me xx that you hear him drive off.
The second time he almost confessed to loving you was when you were 25. You had just gotten over an awful flu that got you bed ridden for days, unable to go on with your schedule as you normally would. You were sleeping the sickness off for hours on end, only waking up when Vernon knocked on your door to check up on you. Honestly, he knew it was only the flu, but he was so scared for you; in his eyes, you always appeared as the strongest women on earth so seeing you so weak and tired pulled at his heartstrings. He thought about confessing his undying love as you were blowing your nose – maybe it will magically heal her, he thought one night. But deep down he knew you needed someone to help you out physically and so, he did. He had taken such good care of you; he kept your home clean, did the laundry and helped you out to the shower if needed. He had thought about doing the cooking but he knew his poor skills wouldn’t get you to eat at all. So, even if you couldn’t finish your plates, he had ordered your favorite meals all week, even if he didn’t really like some of those.
It's been a few days since you last had a fever, so even if you were still blowing your nose and coughing a little bit, you could still get out of bed and hang out with Vernon. You two decided to have an at-home date, ordering your favorite meals and watching the show you recently started together. Since you were less sick you could finally finish your plate and eat more than usual; even after finishing your food, your stomach was still grumbling.
“I’m still hungry,” you whisper to yourself, not thinking Vernon would hear you.
“Yeah?” he asks, still looking at the TV as he holds a spoon full of food in the air, “Want a bite?” he says as he looks at you.
“Is that okay?” you ask, not wanting to take away his favorite food. Even when you were sick, you saw how Vernon only ordered your favorite foods – he deserved to have every bite of his favorite dish.
“Of course it is!” he smiles at you, extending his spoon in front of you, “You like it?” he asks, waiting for your nods of approval.
You nod enthusiastically, giving him a thumbs up with a smile, “That’s so good!” you exclaim before Vernon reaches for your plate. You look at him, wondering what he is up to before you see him fill your empty plate with more than half of his meal, “No, no, no,” you say, trying to reach for it as Vernon puts it out of reach from you.
“You need to eat, babe,” he says as he puts the dish on your lap, “Go on,” he smiles, patting your head before turning his attention back to his almost finished meal and the tv.
You smile down, cheeks red from your boyfriend’s attention. You notice how he gave you the tastier part of his dish – meat, veggies and a lot of gravy with a good amount of rice – and he kept most of the rice and only a piece of meat for himself. You start to eat happily, re-adjusting your position on the sofa to be closer to him. It might have been a year and a half since you started dating with no I love you’s said, but you know this is how he shows he loves you. And that is enough for you – it will always be.
It's now been two years since you started dating Vernon; you’re 26 years old, living with your boyfriend, your two cats and waking up every day with the love of your life next to you. Life is beautiful and you could not ask for more. To celebrate your anniversary with Vernon, you planned a trip to your hometown - only a 1 hour-drive from home – so you can have your date where you first kissed: at the cinema. If someone told Vernon he would one day ignore a movie to give his attention to a human being, he would have laughed at their face. But here he is. Countless of movies and shows watched with you right there, next to him, and yet you always steal his gaze away from the screen. You are just so beautiful, he thinks to himself. And when he sees you, laughing at a stupid joke from a character, he smiles with you. Not because the joke is funny, no, but because he cannot watch you without his heart filling up and his feelings pouring out onto his lips. He knew since he woke up that day, on your 2 years anniversary, that he would say it. It had been on the tip of his tongue since the first time he saw you in elementary school, smiling at everyone and saving bugs, but he always held it back. He thought it would be too soon, too fast, too much – but how can love ever be those things? he realized recently. He had said I love you a thousand times already through his actions, he had said he loved you out loud to his friends, his family, his cats. He thought now was the time you should hear it. So, all day, his head was in the clouds, thinking how to bring this up, how to say I’m in love with you to his soulmate. It happens when you pull him into your apartment at 1 am, your anniversary already over. You both get rid of your shoes, the tiredness of the day finally falling on your shoulders, before you pull him into you for a hug. Your arms stay at his waist, his heart going thump, thump, thump against yours as his cheek rest on the crown of your head.
“Gonna let you go to sleep,” you mumble against his shirt before letting him go, “I’m gonna shower.”
“Hey- babe,” he says softly to get your attention, his hand wrapping around your wrist, “need to tell you something,” he tells you as you’re pulled back against his chest, hands on his front as one of his rest on your waist, the other one covering your cheek.
“Everything’s okay?” you ask, rubbing circle on the fabric of his shirt.
“Yeah, everything’s good,” he whispers, his eyes going down to look at your lips and up again, “You’re pretty,” he speaks under his breath, a blush making its way on your cheeks – and his.
“Thank you,” you smile as you reach for his neck, pulling him down for a kiss, “You’re not so bad yourself,” you whisper against his lips.
He holds onto your cheeks, your foreheads resting against each other, “I love you,” he murmurs so low you think you made it up but as you open your eyes and see tears in his own, you know this is nothing but real life.
“Oh,” you gasp softly, taken aback, “I love you too,” you say, smiling up at the love of your life.
“I know this was long overdue and I’m sorry it took me so long-“ he starts to babble, uneasiness bubbling in his chest before you cut him off with a kiss.
“It’s okay,” you whisper, playing with the hair at his nape, “To me, you’ve said it a thousand times,” you reassure him as he blushes, chuckling softly at how you always find the right words for him, “But a thousand more wouldn’t hurt,” you tease slightly, making him snort.
“I love you,” he repeats, his arms wrapping around your shoulders as yours find a resting place at his waist, rubbing his back over his shirt.
“Again,” you say with a smile in your voice before kissing his chest in an I love you too.
“I love you,” he says against your hair, his hands making its way under the straps of your dress.
“Again,” you ask him, never getting enough of these words flowing out of his lips.
“I love you,” he whispers against the shell of your ear, leaving a kiss behind, “so much.”
“I’ll never get tired of hearing this,” you whisper, your hands meeting the end of his shirt, “I love you,” you say as you touch his bare back.
“I love you, I love you, I love you,” he says like a mantra, “I’d unlearn any other words so all you could hear is my love for you,” he whispers, his eyes meeting yours, before your lips collide – just like your worlds did so many years ago.
You’ve always found reassurance in this quiet love you and Vernon were giving each other – but maybe you liked your love being a little louder sometimes.
thank u for reading! hope you enjoyed hehe <3
#sammy's works#j<3#seventeen 💌#seventeen scenarios#seventeen x reader#seventeen imagines#seventeen reactions#seventeen fluff#svt scenarios#svt x reader#svt imagines#svt reactions#svt fluff#vernon scenarios#vernon x reader#vernon imagines#vernon fluff
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Pervert Armin x black reader
MDNI & AGELESS BLOGS
Warnings: uhh EXTREME horniness and no self respect?
A/N: Y’all.. I barley proofread my shit so in sorry if there’s 500 typos and I just came outta writers retirement so I ask that y’all cut me some SLACK😭I’m done yapping now
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Armin knew he was going to be obsessed with you since the day you walked into the classroom. With your pretty brown gloss-covered lips and braids hanging hanging down to your ass. Your vanilla scent made all of the blood rush to his head…and dick. He had to have you all to himself. He wanted to take you back to him dorm and keep you there as his little pet. No one else would be able to see you on your knees like a puppy, tongue hanging out of your mouth and waiting for his next command. Maybe he’d tie you to his bed and stuff his shirt in your mouth so the whole residence hall won’t hear your screams (not that he’d care) . He was interrupted by his pervert thoughts when you approached him. “You Armin? I think were partners” of course y’all were partners. Armin made sure of that by rigging the professor’s spreadsheet. No, he simply refused to work with someone other than his pretty future wife. He talking bout some “Yeah! Let’s work at my dorm” knowing damn well y’all won’t be doing shit. He won’t make his princess do any work, he can bullshit this easy ass project as long as he can buy his face in your pussy for hours.
After 3 project sessions he had you wrapped around his finger….Literally. His two long slender fingers curled up into your pussy and tongue lapping up your brown-pinkish folds simultaneously.“Armin slow down please….I can’t” Amin simply ignored your ass, even flicking his tongue and a faster rate your sucking your clit until it was attached to his mouth. “just need to make you mine….wanna make my girl feel good” Your back arched off the bed as yours thighs shook around Armin’s head. Just when you were sure that you was finna squirt all over his, Armin stopped and flipped you over. “Want you to cum with my dick” This was the main event that Armin had fantasized. He opened up the little draw next to his bed and grabbed a baby blue ribbon to tie your hands behind your back with, and some vanilla coconut oil, your signature scent. That boy could not wait to oil up that ass, all for him. He slowly rubbed his hands all over your smooth brown skin, down to the back of your thighs. Armin squirts some oil of his hand, stroking his already hard dick. Without warning he slides into your pussy, almost nutting immediately after feeling your warmness. The small dorm was filled with sounds of your muffled moans and slapping sounds from Armin’s thighs against yours. “S’ the only dick you’ll ever need” He sneers through his teeth as his pace quickens and his grip on your hips create indents in your skin. Armin watched your arms struggle against the ribbon restraints and he took this opportunity to grab your arms and hold them behind your back while he fucked into your pussy.
Your breathing was becoming ragged and your walls began to spasm and clench around his dick. “Min im about to cum..ughh shit” He suddenly slows down his pace, making you whimper from the lack of speed. He grabs you by the throat, giving it a light squeeze. “Say you love me first…tell me your gonna be a good bitch for me” Your eyes are rolling into the back of your head and your mouth is hanging open, and that brain is struggling to put one word together. “Say it or you get nothing” he slowly starts fucking into you faster, hand still wrapped around your throat, trying to make you break “Love you min..m’ur bitch” Your whole body begins to shake as you cream all over his dick . When you’re done he pulled out made sure to cum all over your face, globs of white sticking to your cheeks, nose, and forehead. “my good girl, baby” he says as his fingers stroked your cum covered face. After y’all get all cleaned up, he gently placed you in his bed where you knocked out as soon as your head hit the pillow. Armin couldn’t help but to admire your unconscious body, sleeping peacefully on his side of the bed. Yeah, you ain’t ever leaving his room.
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#aot smut#armin x black reader#armin smut#armin arlet smut#armin arlet x reader#attack on titan smut#armin x reader#aot x reader#aot x black y/n#aot x black reader#attack on titan x black reader#attack on titan x female reader#eren x black reader#eren smut#levi x black reader#levi smut
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champagne problems
sex on fire chapter ten
i'm not sorry!!!!! you'll never catch me!!!! (im, like, super sorry)
pairing: ceo!joel x fem!reader
summary: the secrecy between you and joel comes to a head. one huge, explosive, painful head.
warnings: age gap (reader is late 20s, joel late 40s), workplace relationship, imbalance of power dynamic, whew boy the angst is big in this one sorry, reader has a lot of internal struggle, daddy issues and commitment issues to the max (ha), memories of parental abandonment and adultery, sort of vague mention/description of reader having panic attacks, attempts to initiate sex (but alas, only one small mention of previous sex), Big Argument, alcohol consumption, cursing, sugardaddy!joel, soft!joel, fluff and angst. angst angst angst angst
word count: 11.1k
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The lavender is the first to wilt.
It stares glumly at the kitchen counter. Posture hunched and drooping. You stand before it, clutching a jug of water like you’re starving the purple sprigs for information. Why did he lie to me why did he lie why would he lie to me tell me why.
The daisies look on, awkward and curious. Their petals streaked with green – still fresh and still at least trying to bloom. The news hasn’t reached their delicate stamens yet – they still have blind hope. But they’re drinking from the same rotten water their lilac neighbors are. They must know it’s futile.
You fill the vase up and fix the lace bow – the one you’d transferred from the brown paper wrap to the vase last night, after seeing Joel out. He stayed until nightfall, until the rest of your apartment faded into a pale gloom, forgotten about while the two of you watched TV and kept secrets from one another in your warm-lit bedroom.
When he leaned down and held his lips over yours, you pushed yourself onto your toes and kissed him goodbye. He ruffled your hair, clipped your bottom lip lovingly. Said, I’ll call you tomorrow. Get some sleep, pretty girl.
You lay staring at the ceiling the whole night.
He was out all day Saturday at a charity event. He called you as he arrived home – you heard the elevator’s ding through the receiver, announcing its arrival at his top-floor apartment. And you stayed on the phone, the thing discarded on your mattress, as sleep blurred the edges of the world in and out of focus all evening.
Three times you thought about just telling him to come back over, hold you until you forgot what he’d even done. Pretend that the man who, possessed by lies and jealousy or something much worse, had taken your wrist and swept you off out of Jean-Marc’s penthouse isn’t the same one who brought you tea and Chinese food yesterday. The one who held you, blood and broken wings safe in his arms, while you wept into his body.
Three times you stamped the flame out, remembering. As if you needed reminding. Your stomach still sinks anytime the reel jerks back to its beginning behind your eyes. The words unfortunately and unavailable. The rustling of the bag in the kitchen. The padding of his footsteps drawing nearer and nearer.
Your phone buzzes somewhere across the room. You set the jug down and shuffle over, tilting the screen in the morning light.
We’re outside baby. Take your time.
You haven’t mentioned it to him, yet. Haven’t breached the conversation. You’ve no fucking clue where to start. It hurts too much to look at it just yet – like scalding yourself with boiling water and clamping a wet towel to the burn until you can stomach the sight of your skin, all blistered and bubbling.
The towel is still covering the wound. You’re still frantically pacing around the kitchen clutching it, heavy and sopping. You’re not sure what it looks like, but from beneath the cold cloth, it doesn’t feel good.
It doesn’t feel good at all.
Joel’s leaning against the Rolls when you totter down your front steps. Fall plucks the leaves from the trees one by one; they swirl down to the smooth pavement, brown and amber and golden. You’re in a floral tea dress, which took you an obscene amount of time to decide on, given the cocktail of nerves and confusion and outright panic rolling around your stomach.
Your heel scuffs to a halt in front of him. He pushes off of the car and swings your door open, squints at you in the sunlight. You watch his eyes move down your frame, a misplaced desire to impress him dripping through your veins, and then he looks back up.
“Hi, pretty girl,” he says, and your veins sizzle. “You look…” he shakes his head simply, “…you’re beautiful.”
Your lips betray you. Your mind – that poor, dead lavender; your body – the poor, naïve daisies. Still has blind hope.
You can’t help but reflect his expression, attempting to mask it with a soft shrug. “Are the heels too much?” you ask, glancing down and lifting your foot.
Joel shakes his head instantly. “I like ‘em. And even if they were, we’re late. You ain’t got time to change.”
“You said you’d be here at twelve. It’s ten after.”
“I run a construction company, not a watchmakers. You okay?”
“Yeah,” you say. Unconvincingly.
“I mean,” he circles a hand over his stomach, lifts his eyebrows, “you feelin’ okay? We don’t have to go – Martha wouldn’t mind, you know that.”
“I’m fine,” you chirp, and your painted lips flatten against one another as you dip into the car. “Hi, Rand.”
The driver lowers his sunglasses and tips his head in the rear-view. “Hi, baby.”
Joel shimmies along the leather, shifting his jacket from between you to scoop your body against his. You glance down, eyeing his soft sweater, the light shade of it paired against that of your dress. The glint of his watch as his wrist slips happily between your legs, hooking under your thigh. The bloody crimson of the birthday card envelope, trembling in the door pocket.
The car pulls off, dragging you from your daydream. Stealing you back from the dystopia where you and Joel match, where you go together. A couple. Removing the notion of it from your makeup, each cell in your body slowly reverting back to yours again. Just yours. No CEO boss to stake his claim to any of them.
Martha’s place sits at the end of a cul-de-sac; neighbored on one side by a retired couple who spent their entire summer arguing in the backyard, according to Martha, and on the other by a row of quaint cypress.
The front door, bordered by polished mosaic squares of glass, sits inside one of four gable roofs. Dark green shutters either side of each stark-white window frame. A smooth path snaking between neatly-fringed grass, a hierarchy of tiny bushes growing greener and greener the closer they draw to the front steps.
Come in through the back, she’d said. Gate will be open. We’ll be in the yard.
Joel makes some quiet remark just to you about how perfect the house looks. The red brick and marengo tile. How much effort gone into polishing the front, only to tell you to use the back entry. ‘s only for looking, he decides, and then offers his hand to pull you from the Rolls.
He bends over the car, hand flat on the roof, and calls back to Rand. “Do me a favor – don’t go far. Just –” he jerks his head in your direction, “– just in case.”
When he straightens up and the car purrs off, you shake your head. “I’m fine,” you whisper, and he hooks two fingers around the string of the giftbag, taking it from your grasp.
He replaces it with his hand, his huge palm against yours. “I know,” he mutters, glancing down the drive, “but it’s an excuse for when I get sick of Alan ‘n all his damn friends.”
“Henry,” you remind him.
He tosses you a half-second look, smirk scrawled on his lips. He knows.
She’s waiting for you by the French doors when you arrive – Martha. Glass of sparkling champagne in each hand. Your fingers slip free from Joel’s before you’ve even rounded the corner.
“Saw the car pull up,” she tells you, leaning to let Joel kiss her cheek. “Here,” she hands you a glass, then one to Joel, “and here.”
You sip at the bubbling drink, letting the sharp fizz assault your tongue. Letting the feeling wash down your throat, stinging and bitter. Joel seems to swallow his just fine.
He swings the bag in her direction, tongue swiping across his bottom lip. “Just a little somethin’ from the two of us.”
You frown, holding a hand up to shield your eyes from sunlight too faint to cause the stiffness of your face and the drawn string of your brows. Where is Deb? And her two sons? And their shared gift? Isn’t it totally platonic and professional after all, to sign something from you and Joel?
Martha’s hands clasp. She reaches gleefully for the bag, smiling at the striped pattern. “I got no idea where he is. Last I saw, they were all headin’ up to his room. Some zombie game on his PlayStation. He promises me they ain’t playin’ the R-rated version.”
“That’s alright,” Joel says, “I believe ‘im.” He leans closer, a weight apparent at the small of your back. It shocks like a surge of electricity up your spine, hurts like a sudden muscle spasm. And then it soothes the pain, his thumb rubbing delicately. “’s a nice place,” he tells Martha.
She feigns disbelief. “Well, thank you, Mr. Miller, C-E-O,” she sings, and then, cocking an eyebrow, “y’all want a tour?”
You both nod politely, following her towards the kitchen doors. Joel nods towards a table by the barbecue – an island amongst a sea of candy and pastries, chopped fruit and bowls of nuts: a two-tiered, sky-blue cake. The name Henry piped in red icing – the letters swirling much like a birthday card you once read in a house on Maple Street.
“Nice little cake for Alan,” Joel mutters, squeezing your waist.
A stolen laugh shudders from your lips; the two of you snicker together, and despite your best attempts to cover your grin with your champagne flute, Martha spots you.
“What’s so funny?” she asks, sidling back over.
“Martha,” you clear your throat, “would you do me a favor?”
“What’s that, sweetheart?”
“Would you please tell Joel your son’s name?”
She looks at you blankly. Blinks between you and the man at your side, both staring back expectantly. But her stone-set expression begins to crack, the lines deepening around her mouth.
“As in,” you clarify, “his real name. Not Alan.”
She makes to reply when the swish-thud of a window opening interrupts, the prepubescent bellow of an almost-teen from overhead.
“Mom!” Henry calls, his dark head of curls and long, boyish arms dangling over the sill.
Martha glares up at him. “What have I told you about hangin’ from there” she yells, fists propped on her hips. “What is it?”
“Mike brought Blood Cry III; can we play it?”
She shakes her head indignantly. “I have told you – how many times? No!” She holds her hands out in apology to you and Joel, and then scuttles off into the kitchen. “Go explore,” she waves, “I trust ya!”
Joel wordlessly takes your hand, leading you in Martha’s wake through the kitchen to the living room: its navy walls and white paneling, bookshelves spanning the entire length of one wall, and a pale-brick fireplace centering two leather couches. Very pristine, very perfect. Very Martha.
You amble around, slowing in front of the mantelpiece above which a gallery of framed photos hangs. Henry as a toddler on a green trike; Martha’s stepdaughter and her kid; Alan on a golfing trip. Your eyes jump from plump cheeks to missing teeth, sunhats and Thanksgiving meals, until they land on a photo of Martha and Alan on their wedding day – her veil pinned neatly into a permed updo, her puffy-sleeved dress and the lemon bouquet spilling from her hands.
Joel’s shoulder brushes against your own, his eye journeying across the photos, too. “Ha,” he tosses a finger towards the wedding photo, “nineties Martha. Nice hair, huh?”
You smile, lazily swatting his arm. “She looks beautiful. They seem happy.”
Joel agrees. “Wonder what their first dance song was.”
“I bet it was something classy. Sinatra or something. Martha wouldn’t be breaking the marriage in to anything cheesy, that’s for sure.”
He laughs, spinning off towards the dining room. “You ever thought about what you’d pick?”
You hesitate, rounding the table on the opposite side. “Uh…no. Not really.”
“Not your thing? Marriage.”
You chance a glance at him over a vase of lilies in the center of the mahogany table. The smell twists towards you, leering as it coats your skin and your clothes and the back of your throat in a sickly film that makes your head spin. “I guess not. I’ve never – Not since…”
He nods. He knows. “That’s fair,” he says, hands finding his pockets. The idea of Blake – his name, his shaking hands, the tiny box in his suit pocket – the thought of those images flitting through Joel’s brain pinches the air from your lungs.
You watch the silhouette of him as it crosses over the bay window, looking out onto the trimmed grass and smooth asphalt street. Something cracks deep in your chest. Something begins to unbind.
“What would yours be?” you ask him, and he turns.
“Depends,” he shrugs, “on when I’m gettin’ married or not. Makes no difference to me.”
You bypass the point he’s making. Turn away from it like you would a shadow in the night. “If you were,” you insist, “what would you pick?”
He nears you, never breaking your stare. His confident matches your nervous, his steady gaze on your shy. “Somethin’ special to me ‘n her. An our song kinda thing.” And then, as he brushes deliberately by your shoulder to head for the stairs, “AC/DC or som’.”
Your heels stick like they did that night in the dive bar. Ears hurt with a ringing loud enough to blur the edges of your vision. Your skin feels the same hot – only, not from the crowded room you’re in, or the mix of alcohol and sweat and something akin to lust seeping through your pores.
You stare fixedly at the view from the bay window, the perfect little cul-de-sac with its perfectly smooth roads; perfect for kids learning to ride their first bikes, perfect for couples wandering arm in arm, perfect for angry fathers taking off in cars packed with belongings.
When you were a kid, buckled into the back of your dad’s car, you used to fight sleep to watch the moon race you home. Her white glow surviving being split over and over again by the trees you’d whip past. Your eyes would flit from hers to the windscreen, watching the road up ahead as it threatened to twist and turn. No matter how fast you thought your dad must be driving, no matter which direction he turned – every time you looked for her, there she’d be.
It makes sense now. The notion of staying. Occupying somewhere in space or in time, and forgetting how to leave. Forgetting how to try. Forever fixed there, glowing in a brilliant melancholy, singing to nobody in the dark expanse of the sky. Waiting for the sun to make her return. Just waiting waiting waiting.
You – the moon, and your sky – that fucking driveway. The Toyota, the rust on its underside so bitter you could taste it like blood on your tongue. Searching all over for the scraps of yourself, the pieces he tore away as he fled: veins tangled around spokes, severed fingers tinged crimson and hooked around the steering wheel. Don’t go. Don’t leave me.
And then, the sun – some sharp-suited, quick-witted Texan; enough charm and ease to lift himself over the horizon, to give you something other than the glimmer in your own tears to reflect.
The moon stares down at you now as you sit, perched on your balcony. Your knees tucked under your chin, watching two cats wrestle down on the street below. It’s just gone two; Joel’s in bed fast asleep. You slipped from his grasp and crept out of your room, a blanket over your shoulders, and disappeared between the sheer curtains. Your chest tight, your breathing short.
It keeps happening, that thing from Paris. Your head begins to spin, your voice withers to nothing. Your legs push you to your feet and force you to flee, though you’ve still to figure out where to or what from. All you know is that blue-eyed stare of your ex-fiancé has been wiped, replaced by the dusted beard of your boss instead. The plastic ring between his fingers. The creaking leather of his office chair.
Those same four words keep circling your head, replaying on a loop between your ears: why did he lie why did he lie why did he lie. Like white noise droning around your skull, bubbling nausea in the pit of your stomach. No, darlin’. Why would I lie to you?
Why did you lie to me?
Why did he do any of it? Take you to Paris, let you meet his client. Why has he been sleeping with you, treating you like some kind of girlfriend? The word plucks goosepimples all over your body. His body around yours at Aspen Heights – what you wanted so badly to believe was endearment, was comfortability and generosity, now feels like territory-marking. Feels like the white-knuckled tightening of a leash in his wide fist.
The leaves of the trees across the street tremble, lit luminous green by the 7-Eleven sign they fringe. You watch as two men swagger out of the store; their chatter drowned by the buzzing of the fluorescent sign. They split off with a quick handshake at the curb, disappearing into two different cars, driving off in two different directions.
You sniff. Some skunky smell hangs low in the air. So thick that you can feel it coating your lungs from the inside out. You sink back into your chair, push your fingers into your eyes until you’re watching a mirage of stars pull across your vision. Blow a cracked, nervous breath into the sky. Slip your nose beneath the collar of your tee.
Joel’s tee, which pools in the dip between your stomach and thighs. You suck his scent in like one hit of some intoxicating drug, for every three hits of clean air. Just seeing you through. Pretending there’s no addiction there.
But fuck, if you’re not screwed. One half of you holding back on mentioning the email because – what the fuck do you even say? How do you begin to ask him about it? How do you approach the topic, without prefacing it with feelings you’re too afraid to admit even to yourself?
And the other half – for fear of what you might cause. What you might make him do. For the pure, cut-throat fear that he’ll become the third in a list of men to just – leave. To let you down, to let you go. Change between couch cushions. Wild flowers torn from the earth’s scalp.
Then, the fracturing realization that you don’t want him to go. That you’re used to him, now, in a way you never were with your dad or with Blake. Your dad – who would choose poker night over parents’ night. Who would choose a drink with his buddies over a movie with you and your mom.
Or Blake – who would schedule sex on the nights he figured he’d have enough energy to fuck you until at least he came, and would buy you chrysanthemums on your birthday even long after you’d told him you were pretty sure you were allergic.
And then there’s Joel. Joel fucking Miller. Who turned up at your door less than thirty minutes after Martha told him you were sick. Who said in the car ride to her house earlier, Tell me your favorite flower.
Why? you asked.
Just so I know.
Joel – who has never asked anything more than you’ve chosen to tell him about your father, but whose face still screws into an angry grimace anytime he’s forced to think of him. Who reaches out to adjust the broken heart around your neck, slip the clip back to your nape without you asking Who offers you the last slice of pizza, and when you refuse, compromises by splitting it. Giving you the bigger half.
Joel – with whom sex feels like a form of communication: Here are all the things I don’t know how to say, yet. Yet yet yet. A conversation, each movement deliberate; each nip and lick and bite weighted with purpose and meaning. It lives under your nails, behind your teeth. Here – I don’t know what else to do with all this longing.
Joel – who has not only set every foot right, but has carved his own path through your heart. Explored the caves himself, a lonely lamp hanging from his fist as he carefully, gently, politely weaved his way through a jungle of valves and tissue, monsters and darkness, slowly winding his way to the center.
Joel. Who has never let you down. Until that fucking email.
A 7-Eleven employee, some scrawny kid with a mop of black hair and a polo hanging from his skeleton, drags a cloth in wide circles on the inside of the windows. He swipes his forehead along his wrist, thick tresses disturbed, and stares out at the empty street.
You blink twice, and a figure materializes at your balcony door.
“Baby?”
“Jesus!”
“Woah, woah. Easy – ‘s just me.” The pale drapes surrender to his wide frame, letting him pass. “Sorry, pretty girl. You okay?”
“You scared the crap outta me.”
Joel bends before you, a sweet little chuckle in his throat, and presses a warm kiss to your forehead. You lift your chin, letting your eyes close over and your thoughts melt away on his lips. He pulls the blanket tighter around your shoulders.
“What are you doin’ out here at this time of night?”
You shrug as he settles into the wireframe chair opposite. Groans as he leans back. His wide chest constricted by a tight, gray hoodie splattered with paint.
“Just can’t sleep. Nice hoodie.”
His eyes dip to the mounds of your chest under plain cotton, the blanket slack around your breasts. “Someone stole my T-shirt. Stole somethin’ of hers back. Why can’t you sleep? You hurting?”
Yeah. “No. Just – not tired enough, I guess.”
“You want company?”
Not really. “Sure.”
He laces his fingers over his stomach as he settles back, studies you as your gaze skims the street below. He knows you’re lying. But it’s two a.m., and you’re weeks into an affair that you’re both pretty sure has gone past the point of no return, and so, voice plain, he asks, “What’s on your mind, angel?”
“How d’you know there’s something on my mind?”
“There’s always something on your mind. It’s you.” And then, readjusting in his seat, “Tell me what you’re thinking about.”
You scrunch your nose with a sniff. Pull your arms inside the sleeves of his shirt and cross them under your breasts. “Your dad,” you say, locking eyes with him.
Joel lets it hang for all of three seconds. “My dad?” His face curls into a perplexed smirk, jaw tilting. He thinks you’re so fucking adorable, or maybe you think he is, and you’re not sure which one scares you more.
You laugh, chest lightening disobediently. It felt more comfortable when you couldn’t breathe. “What he did,” you explain.
“What he did,” Joel repeats, lifting his chin. Like a dog, sniffing out the truth. Something concealed in your fist.
So you unfold your fingers, holding it out in the palm of your hand: “Do you think he would’ve done it, still, if he knew what would happen?”
And then he really shakes off the humor. Sits forward, elbows leaning on his bare thighs. “What’re you talkin’ about, pretty girl?”
“Like,” you sigh, “if he knew he would split his entire family in two. You and your mom cut him off; Tommy moved halfway across the country. Was it worth it?”
“To me, or to him?”
You shrug again. He’ll choose the one he wants to answer. You’ll figure him out either way.
“Look,” Joel says, and hooks his fingers under the seat of your chair to pull you closer. He takes your ankles and you stretch your legs out, heels propped in the boxer-clad valley between his legs. A deep breath, hazel eyes pointed upwards like searching the skies for the words, and then: “People want what they want, right? They’ll do whatever they think is necessary to get it. He wanted to cheat, so he did. And he paid the price.”
“He wanted to cheat?”
It seems obvious to him. As though people seek out ways to hurt the ones they’re supposed to love all the damn time. The silver glint of a Labrador’s teeth as he sinks them into his owner’s skin.
Joel nods. “Wanted it badly enough that he did anything.”
“Lied?” you offer.
“Lied, cheated, left. Yeah.”
“And he risked everything.”
His head tips in agreement. “I guess he did. He was a damn idiot, you know? Had a wife who loved him, had two kids. He had the whole world in that house, and he threw it all away.”
“And,” the soles of your feet rest gently on the curve of his stomach, “would that – would it stop you? If you at least knew you were riskin’ something?”
“From cheating?”
“Anything. If you knew what you were risking was everything to you – would it stop you doing what you really wanted?”
His face tightens, brows knit with confusion and something else more difficult to place. “It depends. I wouldn’t risk something like you. I would n–”
“Somethin’ like me?” you interject.
Joel clears his throat. Looks up to the pitch-black sky again. “You…” He sighs. His answer is simple, black-and-white. There’s no way to hide it anymore. “I wouldn’t risk you, no. Not for the world.”
You fall silent. The moon stares down, seeming to melt around you. Her light like two steady arms holding you together, nudging you to ask the last question – the one spiraling around your mind like circling a drain.
Joel squeezes your ankle. “Where are you goin’ with this, baby? Are you asking me if I would cheat on you?”
Your heart jumps. The moon scatters.
Does he fall into the category of people who could cheat on you? Two months ago, he was just your boss. Two months ago, you hadn’t touched him more than a slap after a witty comment, the brushing of fingers as you handed him his morning coffee. But now…now, you’ve kissed his lips to shut him up. You’ve felt him come inside you. You’ve set foot inside his childhood fucking home, for Christ’s sake.
He makes you feel as though your heart is made of glass, delicate and laid bare but safe in his hands. He makes you feel as though a part of you exists outside of your own body – like there’s a piece of your soul wandering the earth by itself, touching base every time his hands are on your hips, his teeth in your neck.
Yeah. Fuck – yeah. He’s someone who could cheat on you. The way that email made you feel – he’s someone who could break your heart.
“I know you wouldn’t cheat on anyone,” you say, voice breaking. “No, I just – I don’t know what counts as a good enough reason to hurt someone you’re supposed to…supposed to love.”
Joel sits back in his chair again, the frame creaking under the weight of him. He reckons he gets it, now. You reckon he’s still wrong. “Come here,” he says, fingers flicking.
“What?”
He leans forward, takes your waist in his hands and pulls you from your chair into his lap, curling you up between his thighs. Safe. Protected by the shell of his body, protected by everything except from the thing scaring you most: the quickening of his heartbeat when you settle against it.
Your head slots under the curve of his chin, his voice a deep rumble over your skull.
“Your dad,” his chest swells, “he did what he did because he wanted to do it. Wanted it badly enough that he gave up you and your mom. And there wasn’t nothin’ you or her could’ve done to stop him, or convince him otherwise. You hear me?”
You turn into his neck, letting your tears fall hidden from view of streetlight or moonlight. You feel fucking tiny – a kid again, sat in a grownup’s lap, asking a never-ending series of why questions. Then, why did he do it? Why did he leave? Why are you staying? Why did you lie to me?
Joel presses his lips to your head, shushing you quietly, his body rocking back and forth like a boat on light waves. When he hears you sniffling, he holds you closer. Tighter. Your heart melds to your chest wall, desperate to seek his out. The hoodie he’s wearing smells like you, smells like him, smells like the chemicals of paint and the poison of love.
“It wasn’t your fault, darlin’, none of it.”
His arm hooked over your bare knees, the cotton keeping you warm. The other around your back, keeping you whole. You unstick yourself from his embrace, pulling your body straight until you’re straddling his lap, face to face with him in the light.
He looks up at you, almost afraid to blink. Afraid to lose sight of you at all. Your thighs lean heavily against his, your bodies locked together. You link your arms over his shoulders, anchor yourself to him as though the storm in your mind might sweep you away. And in the glimmer of light in his eye, the dazzling bulb of a lighthouse – you see the reflection of yourself.
Joel notices the shift in your expression. Holds you by the hips, follows the turn of your head. “You okay?” he asks, and you look down, avoiding his eye.
Glowing brilliant and lonely, blinking slowly. Your towering silhouette and caged-glass top. Drawing ships nearer just to ward them off when they pull too close. When they begin to notice the jagged shape of your shoreline, the ugly mess of your soul. Casting a blinding light on them, warning them to flee. And he didn’t fucking listen.
He docked anyways. Drew up on the beach, pulled himself into your body time and time again. You kept moving, kept warning him with each flicker of light, kept daring him to leave. And he never did. And there are pieces of you now living in him because of it, pieces you don’t understand how to take back. All you know, all you’ve ever known about Joel, is –
Your body sinks, hips lowering until you’re sure you’ve proven yourself right.
A stubborn weight between his legs. Not quite as hard as you’ve felt him before, not quite as heavy, but – a shape which sends a hot hiss between his teeth when you move over it, when the thin strip of your underwear courses over the thin cloth of his.
“P-retty girl,” Joel says, a groan seeping from the corners of his lips. A groan he holds onto with his molars, letting it snap like elastic when your hips circle again.
A weight as stubborn as the need slowly swirling in your chest. And pulled up into the cyclone are those same words: It wasn’t your fault. There wasn’t nothin’ you could’ve done to stop him. Why did you lie to me? It wasn’t your fault.
It hits you at once, the sudden realization that you’re lighter than you were before you first touched one another – really touched one another. Parts of you missing, passed over gladly the second his hand reached for them. The taste of you behind his lip, gums absorbing you like nicotine.
And you’re kissing him, your lips harsh against his, his stubble hurting your skin. Your tongue seeking out those parts of yourself. No. You don’t have me anymore. I’m taking me back.
“Hey,” Joel whispers into your mouth, steadying your hips. He pulls back and holds you still. “Why don’t we slow down? It’s late, you ain’t feeling too good –”
“I feel fine. I want to do it.” You lick again between his lips though he doesn’t budge; your attempts to move again, ineffective. “Joel.”
“It’s been a long day, you’re tired. Work in the mornin’, baby, I just don’t think we oughta –”
“You don’t wanna fuck me?”
He pauses, his tongue between his teeth. His brows pinch, almost painfully. “That is not what this is, ‘n you know it. I can see how tired you are – you ain’t even slept yet.”
“I don’t care. I want you to –”
His voice lifts to something you’ve only heard within the four walls of his office. Like chiding one of his guys, like snapping back at their red ties and crumpled collars. “I know what you want me to do. I just think we should go back to bed.”
“’n what if I don’t want to go back to bed?”
Joel sighs, looking out across the street. His tongue pokes at the inside of his cheek.
“I don’t get what the problem is,” you complain, still holding onto his shoulders. “You’ve fucked me in public before.”
“It ain’t that.”
“Then what is it?”
“Why don’t you go grab a sketchbook or something? Show me some of this artwork you been promisin’ since Paris?”
You blink back at him, watching the lighthouse swirl. The black waves begin to carry him off, sweep him from your view. “Maybe some other time,” you mumble, pushing yourself off of his lap.
Joel watches you, defeated. Keeps ahold of your hand when you stand between his knees. He swings your interlocked fingers gently. “Can you…can you tell me what’s wrong? Do you know?”
Your lungs pull in a deep breath, your shoulders rolling. “Same thing as always, I guess. Let’s just go back to bed.”
“Wait, pretty girl,” he tugs on your hand, reeling you back in, “waitwaitwait.” And then he’s standing, enclosing you in his arms again, asking, “What can I do to fix it?”
That same shrug. Tired. Deflated. Terrified. “If I only knew.”
You wait for Joel to move first, a sigh falling from his lips as he pulls the sheer curtains back, taking you by the hand and ushering you between. He follows your lead back into your apartment, sliding the door closed behind.
The living room is flattened by a gray silence, the liminal night swallowing up the air. Joel’s hand comes to rest at the nape of your neck, and when you turn to him, he says, “You wanna know if he thought it was worth it?”
You pause, fingers playing with the hem of his tee at your thighs.
He’s close enough that you can feel the heat near enough sizzling from his body. The right side of his face is shrouded in darkness; the chalky wash of streetlight painting the left. “My dad.”
You swallow hard, blinking in the shadow cast by his tall figure. The light clings wearily to his beard.
“She left him after two weeks. Went back to her husband. My dad died alone in an empty four-bed in Rosedale. You tell me.”
And then he pats the small of your back, takes you back through to bed – where you let him fall asleep on your chest, listening to make sure your fractured heart is still beating.
Joel Miller is in your shower. For the second time this weekend.
He’s not fucking you, not holding you against the rough tile wall as his cock draws come and blood and tears from your body. He’s not wrapping a towel around you, handing you a fresh tampon, kissing the parts of your skin still alight from your orgasm.
He’s just showering, before work. Using your peach-scented soap, pushing suds under his arms, over his stomach, between his legs. Lathering your shampoo like treacle between his palms, hair slick and foamy white between his fingers. Fixing the head so that his height fits under the stream of water, turning the knobs until it’s as hot as he likes it.
You’re lying across your bed, suffocating in the smell of his side and pretending none of it’s really happening. Face buried in his pillow, waiting for the intoxication to throw you under or wipe your mind clean or maybe just cut the air supply from your lungs completely. Whichever’s quickest.
The bathroom door opens; the sound of footsteps padding over to you. His weight sinks into the bed by your hip, then hovers over your back. His nose, still steamy and damp from the shower, nuzzles into the spot behind your ear. His lips leave a wet trail down your neck.
“You need another day?” Joel asks, kissing.
“I’m good,” the cotton absorbs the nervous edge of your voice, “just coming.”
“Stay home if you want, angel,” he says, hands roaming south to hold your waist. Like warning the pain, tempting it to show back up. See what he does about it. “I gotta go take this shareholders meeting, but I can come back as soon as it’s done.”
“Nah,” you groan, pushing your heavy frame up. Joel’s grip slackens. “I need the distraction, I think.”
He sits back, smiling dumbly when you straighten. His tongue runs along his teeth.
“You can use my toothbrush,” you mutter, heel of your palm wiping sleep from your eye.
“Hm?” He’s fixing the mess of your hair. Brushing one side flat, then the other; leaning back and forth with this dumb, half-there smile on his face. And your chest heaves, and you almost surrender to the impulse to throw yourself into his arms, almost lean into his cupped hands and burning caresses.
“I owe you. From Paris. You can use it, just this once.”
He scoffs. “I won’t use your toothbrush, darlin’. It’s alright.”
But you’re indignant. You already have every other part of me, don’t you? What’s one more? Just fucking –
“– use it. I swear I don’t mind.”
Joel’s head tilts, conceding. “Alright. Come get ready, then.”
Martha’s at her desk when the two of you wander back into the office. “Wait!” she calls, clicking around her desk as you pass by. She twirls a blue envelope between two glittery nails, holds it out to you.
Joel takes it, examining the childish scrawling of your names. “Nice, but – your calligraphy needs a little practice, Martha.”
“Hilarious,” she drones, sitting back against the desk.
You drift over to your own, dropping your back over the back of your chair, and shrug the coat from your shoulders.
Joel’s voice draws nearer as he speaks. “He have a good time?” he asks.
“Oh, yeah,” Martha replies, and Joel sits the card from Henry by your monitor, “barely saw ‘im the entire day. Thanks for comin’. For his gift, too – y’all really…You ain’t gotta do that.”
“Was all my idea, wasn’t it?” Joel asks, smirking to you.
An airy laugh pushes from your chest, loose with nerves. “Som’ like that. Glad he had a nice birthday.”
Joel saunters back toward his office, hands in his pockets. Fucking casual, like the world isn’t crumbling beneath your feet. Like the walls aren’t closing in, the sky lowering by the hour, the sun being steadily eclipsed minute by minute. He nudges the door closed with his foot, leaving you, Martha, and an awkward mist of realization between you.
“Your idea,” she muses, once you’ve plucked up enough courage to face her again.
You pick up Henry’s card, staring at the smudged handwriting to mask the horror peeling its way across your face. “Thought it was easier that way, y’know?” You gulp. “Don’t make it into anythin’.”
She grunts, something shaped like Ha. Her arms cross over her body, her eyes flitting between Joel’s office and you. “I sure as hell don’t remember me ‘n Alan ever doing something like that before it meant anythin’.”
“What are you saying it means?” you ask, rhetorically, dryly – a little meaner than you want it to sound. “What’s…?”
Her plucked eyebrows lift, forehead creasing. “Nothing, sweet. I’m just saying – you two are close, now. It’s nice.”
“We were always close.”
She holds her finger up. “Uh, no. Not turn up at my son’s birthday party together, leave together, then turn up at work the next day also together close.” Her eyes narrow, and you almost believe she might’ve been hidden between the trees last night – hell, for a second, you believe she might’ve been that scrawny kid wiping down the windows of 7-Eleven.
“I’m just saying,” she continues, when your throat closes around your nothing answer, “if something’s happening, I’m rooting for it.”
It shoots from your jaw like a bullet. “Nothing’s happening.”
Martha’s just as quick. “Okay,” she says, sweet and light. Breezy.
And then she shuffles back to her chair, resumes focus on some email. Twists the dial on her radio and fill the tense silence in the office with some smooth seventies song which lifts the hairs on the back of your neck the same way it did in that Parisian hotel. The dark suite, his eyes black and seeking. His hands on your body like he knew every curve and dip already.
Didn’t you believe that he might? That his hands were sculpted to fit the space below your ribcage? The plush cushion of flesh above your hips. The hinge of your jaw between his fingers.
Didn’t you think, for one fleeting moment, that maybe he was made just for you? As if you were so fucking lucky. As if anyone might stick around long enough to earn that label. Yours.
You settle back into your chair. The bubble writing on the front of the card stares menacingly back at you, the shapes seeming to swell and shrink in size the longer you stare at them. A bad trip, you think, this whole thing is just a bad trip. I’m gonna sober up any second, and I’m gonna be in bed, still dizzy after that night at the bar.
And none of it’s gonna be real. It’s not fucking real.
But then – lying on the opposite side of your computer, delicate and tiny, sparkling in the sunlight from over your shoulder: your ring. Your ruby ring, two euros in a gumball machine by the Seine. Like it’s winking at you, the accent rhinestones a taunting smirk. And the sight of it slings a thin wire around your heart, tight tight tightens until you’re sure you feel the tissue slice in half.
You take the ring in two shaking fingers, eyes bleary with sleep and salt. Blinking the dispersed light away, red rays bleeding all over your vision as you tilt the plastic. Joel’s voice muffles against his office door, like fists echoing against the flimsy walls of your little daydream. Time’s up. Hand him back over. It’s not fucking real anymore.
You roll the prize back onto your desk, letting it scatter shards of ruby until it hits the keyboard, the rattle echoing around your ears as you pace over to his office door. Your knuckles drum once, twice, three times against the wood before he opens it, and then he’s –
Staring down at you, breath shallow between slack lips. And he reads it all over your face, the panic and the words swimming around the tears in your eyes, and he steps back, and you step forward, and then the door’s closing again, and you’re settling against the arm of his couch.
“Ken? Hey, Ken?” Joel strides back over to his desk, hastily reaching for the phone. The voice from the receiver doesn’t stop, doesn’t slow. “Ken. Can I –? Jesus Christ.” He lifts the handset and drops it less than a second later, cutting Ken’s fucking droning, cutting the only sound in the room, cutting your blood short in your veins.
And then – “Alright. Talk to me.”
You don’t reply. He seems to tense up. Moves almost robotically over to you, lifts his hands to hold your shoulders. And when you lift yours to push him away, he almost flinches.
“Baby.”
Your jaw shakes once. You wrap your arms around yourself, squeezing the breath from your lungs.
“You’ve been actin’ off since yesterday,” he mutters, giving you some space. He’s moving slow, like he’s afraid you might lunge for him. “You gotta tell me. You’re scaring me, now.”
You haul your gaze from his open arms, his broad chest, the idea of letting him pull you in and calm you down. Your eyes land on his monitor. The text of that email flashes before you again. And your shell hardens.
“Is there anything you wanna tell me?” you ask, staring at the Apple logo. Your voice sounds timid, sounds so little that you swear you see Joel catch the words as though they’re made of glass.
His head tilts. His eyes narrow. It’s genuine confusion, you think. The penny hasn’t dropped yet. “…What?”
It pisses you off. Seems to shatter that glass into fifty angry shapes, brittle and sharp. The shards cut like a knife through the air between you. “Nothing you think I oughta know?”
He shakes his head slowly. “No, baby, I don’t…”
Your glare finally lands directly on him. Piercing straight into his eyes. But your jaw locks shut around the words.
“What the hell are you about to accuse me of?” Joel asks, mirroring your stance. Pulling his arms over his chest, jaw tight. “Cheating on you?”
Your chest jumps with a tiny laugh. “Why would I accuse you of cheating on me?”
“Sure sounded like that’s what you were thinkin’ last night.”
“No. I don’t think you’re cheating on me.”
“Then what is it?”
The gun fires. Gates open. Thunder rumbles. A fire lights in your stomach, blazing through your entire body.
“When were you planning on telling me about Jean-Marc?”
He goes quiet. Still. Realizes exactly what you mean in almost an instant. “How did you…? Where did you –?”
“I saw the email. On Friday. Gave me your phone to look for Alan’s Twelfth fucking Birthday, didn’t you?”
His face drops; a broken sigh falls from his lips. He looks up to the ceiling, something of a disbelieving, disappointed, fucking dismayed laugh loose between his jaw. “I wasn’t,” he eventually concedes.
“You weren’t?”
“No.”
You can’t believe him. You actually can’t believe him. Fists balling to hold your nerve, to hold the tremble in your voice steady, you ask, “Why?”
Joel’s body twists, rolls like some awkward wave as he readjusts, searches the surrounding room for an explanation. “There’s – there are a number of reasons why.”
“Start with the first one.”
“Alright.” He grips the wooden desk either side of his hips. Meets your stare, and it’s almost fucking admirable, the bravery with which he’s walking into this. You don’t scare him at all, not yet, anyway. Not even in the midst of a standoff in his office – guns loaded, eyes never blinking.
He pinches the bridge of his nose and then lifts his arm, waving his palm like he’s swatting the image of the Frenchman away. “He’s…He freaks me the hell out.”
“He freaks you out,” you repeat, voice flat. “Really, Joel? Big guy like you?”
You can’t help yourself. This is so fucking insane, it’s laughable. You’re like a snake shooting sharp shots at the ankles of a bear – and it’s too easy to take jabs when you’re still in disbelief at what’s fast turning out to be the truth.
“He’s sleazy, and inappropriate, and he doesn’t respect boundaries.” He counts them with three steady fingers. “Not mine, certainly not yours. I don’t like him, darlin’.”
“You like him enough to go have two meals with him in one weekend. Fly all the way to fuckin’ France for ‘im.”
“That was business. At least, the lunch was. The breakfast was a mistake.”
“What’s the second reason, Joel?”
He licks his lips. You can’t tell if it’s anxiety or anger. “You’re too good at your job. I didn’t wanna lose you.”
It’s simple enough. It’s more believable than six-foot-two Joel being afraid of five-foot-two Jean-Marc. You accept it a lot quicker.
“Any more?”
His expression drops. Yeah. There’s one more. And he doesn’t know how to say it.
“Joel.”
“I didn’t want to lose you.”
“Got that one.”
“No,” he says, shaking his head. Expression unmoving. “I didn’t want to lose you.”
You suck in a deep breath, chest wobbling as your lungs fill. The snake retreats from the bear, jaw slackening. Your eyes sting, Joel’s figure blurs a little, and then you rein it back in.
“I didn’t want you to go. That’s all,” he offers, plainly. “Just…wanted you to stay here. With me.”
“’n what if I wanted to leave?”
“Then…” Joel’s arms lift again, gesturing to nothing, “…then we’ll work something out.”
You lift your chin, some sick expression pushing your eyebrows up. “We’ll work something out?”
He nods.
“Who’s we?”
And it’s the first time you see him falter. The first time he has to catch himself. “You said it yourself,” he says, “you ‘n me. This.”
You shake your head. No no no no. Not this. Not now. The snake coils up, preparing to strike again. “What, us sleeping together?”
“That’s…What?”
“You don’t think there are plenty other women you could be sleeping with here, ‘n plenty other men I could be sleeping with over there? You really want me to stay here just so you got someone to fuck?”
Joel’s lips fall apart. His grip loosens on the desk. “That’s all this is to you?”
“Uh, yeah. Last time I checked.”
You don’t believe yourself. You know you don’t. You don’t believe a fucking word being tossed out of your mouth. You’re being an asshole, deliberately being a dick to him, and you can’t stop. There’s a wall being built at rapid pace, shutting him out. Shutting you in. Bricks made of angry words, each one separating you a little more, hiding you from his view.
And then his mouth closes. Lips form a thin line. Brows lower, blocking any of the light you’re so used to seeing from his eyes. Dark, cloudy, angry. “Got it,” he snaps. “Anything else?”
“Huh?”
“Do you need anything else? Or are you just in here to piss me off?”
You lift from the couch, arms loose, hitting your hips with a slap. “Fuck off, Joel.”
“Oh,” he nods, “right. Fuck off, yeah. Keep goin’, baby. Tire yourself out. ‘s all you’ve been doin’, ain’t it? All this time? All you’ve been using me for?”
Good. It’s good. You want him to argue back. You want him to hate you as much as you hate yourself right now. You want to see the bear’s claws; make all the hurt you’re dragging up through yourself, just to dish at him, worthwhile.
“You know what?”
“What?” he spits.
“I knew you were gonna do something like this, eventually. I knew it. I fucking knew it.”
Joel follows suit, pushing himself off the desk in one motion, and then the pair of you are chest to chest, squaring up to one another atop his five-thousand-dollar rug. “You knew what?”
“Knew there was something about him. Knew you couldn’t stand him. And this is why, right? All ‘cause he wanted to hire me?”
He turns away and laughs, almost recognizable as the same laugh you could draw from him with a silly look on your face – except sharper, colder. “Not even close,” he says, reeling back in. “You didn’t see the way he looked at you? The way he talked to you? About you?”
“Of course I saw it, Joel, I’m not fucking stupid.”
“Then use your good sense ‘n catch up, baby. You’re right: you’re not fuckin’ stupid. You were like fresh meat to him, and what? You reckon I should’ve let him just – sink his teeth deeper? Really?”
It lights something in the back of your mind; a memory flickers to life. Loops like a static radio message through your ears. “Right,” you nod, “right. Because you don’t like other people’s hands on things that belong to you, do you?”
His head jerks back, face warped with confusion and…disgust. “The hell are you talkin’ about?” he demands, voice muscled with anger.
“Martha said it once. You don’t like people playing with your toys, or whatever.”
And that seems to hit him low in the stomach. Seems to knock the wind from him.
“Are you kidding me?” he asks, and you swear his breath cuts in his throat. “That’s what you think?”
No, you think, it’s not. You know him better than that. But admitting that you know him better than to use you as some little plaything – something he had any control over, some accessory to wear on his arm – would mean admitting that the problem lies elsewhere. Lies with you.
And that’s not something you’re prepared to do right now, either.
Maybe before you found that email. Before you found out he’d been keeping you on some invisible leash. Maybe when he had you in his arms, kissing you so soft you thought you might die right then and not even notice.
Maybe when he looked at you, twirling chopsticks clumsily in his fingers, face lighting in a grin when you giggled at him – and three words floated through your head. Dared to dance over the tip of your tongue before you caught them and hissed, What the fuck are you doing here?
But – no. It’s all fucked up now. And you can’t break the tightness in your jaw to admit any different.
“You don’t think there’s a chance I actually care about you? That I – Jesus, that I respect you? Are you this goddamn hellbent on convincing yourself that everyone’s out to hurt you?”
“Joel,” your voice says, and it’s not you controlling it. Some gravely, pained thing. A shriveled part of yourself, cowering from the light. You’re recoiling, physically backing up from him.
“Darlin’, I can’t –” He reaches for your wrist.
You whip it away. “Stop.”
“I am trying to understand you,” he pleads. “I’m tryin’ to figure you out. Why won’t you let me –?”
“I don’t want you to.”
A laugh ejects from his throat and plummets straight to the floor. “Yes, you do,” he says. “You don’t do everything we’ve done unless you’re in it.”
“In it?” you seethe. “In what? What are we in?” You pinch your fingers: air quotations around the words, or possible claws digging four more wounds into the same chest you wept into last night.
Your head shakes rapidly as you speak. “We were just sleeping together. We were just having sex. That’s all. We were just having sex,” you repeat under your breath.
“I wasn’t,” Joel says. Matter-of-fact. Like reading from a contract. He takes a deep breath, and then repeats, “I wasn’t.”
The words splinter painfully from your tongue. “Well, I was.”
And though your eyes are pinned to the buttons of his shirt, though his expression sits just too north for you to see the way his face pulls – you notice his head lift. Know that there are creases digging between his brows at the same rate cracks appear across his heart. You feel the warmth of his gaze slowly cooling. Freezing over.
“I’m sorry,” he says, holding a shaky palm out. The fear begins to sink in, plunging through ice water. He’s beginning to bargain. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I should’ve, I should’ve told you ev–”
Your body moves as the words ricochet, refusing to let him finish his plea. “Glad we got that cleared up, Joel,” you say, near-leaping for the door.
But he’s faster. He steps in front of you, blocking your exit path. “Please hear me out. Please listen to me.”
Your body writhes under his gaze, twists like some little creature under a microscope. He waits for your go ahead before he continues. You toss your head, acquiescing.
“I just – I couldn’t stomach it. I couldn’t sleep at night thinkin’, what if you went for it? What if he managed to swindle you into taking him on? I wanted to get you the hell outta that penthouse the second he laid eyes on you.”
“So why take me in the first place?”
Joel scoffs. “I ain’t in control of you, baby! You had to figure him out on your own – and I thought you had. Christ, one minute you want me to step back ‘n let you make up your own mind, next you’re askin’ me why I took you somewhere? The hell am I supposed to do here?”
Read my mind. Don’t let him near me. Don’t let me go.
And at the same time –
Mind your fucking business. Let me make my own decisions. Keep your hands off me.
The truth is: you want him to go back in time. Take you back with him. Never touch you, never look at you any more than to ask for a coffee, or thank you for fixing up his office. Never make your heart skip that first beat, never set your skin on fire with that look in his eyes.
You want him to go back in time, and undo every knot he ever tied in your body. Let go of every string of your heart he has his fist around, every nerve which undoubtedly belongs to him, now.
Undo it all, so you might have a half-decent reason to hate him.
In the deepest, darkest parts of yourself, echoing around the caves you were always too frightened to explore yourself – you want him to tell you why he kept it from you. The real reason. And you want him to grab your wrist and pull you back into the room, back into his arms, when you inevitably flee at the sound of his reasoning.
Because you fucking know why he didn’t tell you. It’s scrawled on his face right now. And even though Jean-Marc is all of those things – sleazy, inappropriate, a scumbag in thousand-euro moccasins – that only makes up for part of the reason.
There’s a bigger piece to the puzzle, and you both know what it is, only neither of you will turn to face it. You’re simply cast in its shadow, playing blind chess under the silhouette of something you both refuse to acknowledge.
“You’re supposed to be my boss, and nothing else.”
He just stares at you. As if he’s waiting for you to say, Kidding! and laugh. As if he’s waiting for what you really mean to shove what you just said out of the way and tell the truth. It hurts all the more.
After a few seconds of awful silence, his breath falls from his lips in the form of a sigh, staggered with a laugh of disbelief. “I don’t…I don’t get it.”
But you’re tired now. You feel drained. You’ve less fight, energy gone to waste before you could make it to the real contest. Kicking his door down and yelling at him over Jean-Marc was the pregame show.
“What don’t you get?” you whisper, slumping back against the arm of the couch.
His answer terrifies you more than anything.
“You.”
You sigh, eyes falling closed in time with the drop of your head. Your breathing labored, your heart pounding. Fear. Adrenaline. Anger. Fear. Fear. Fear.
“You never let me in, did you? All that stuff you told me – your dad, your ex – like you want me to know. Like you’re lookin’ for me to do somethin’ about it. And then when I try, you slam the door closed again.”
“I don’t…I don’t want you to do anything about any of it,” you cry, tears pooling at the corners of your eyes.
Lie number one.
“Then what do you want? Tell me, pretty girl, ‘cause I’m – I’m at a loss here.”
“I want you to – fuck, Joel, why can’t you just –? I want you to back off.”
Two.
“I can’t,” he whispers, leaning closer. “’s the thing. I care ab– I lo– I…”
He rubs his eyes with his palms. Maybe his head hurts as bad as yours does. Maybe the office is becoming too bright for him to look, too.
“You think you’re broken,” he mumbles, “you think all that stuff makes you – I don’t know, what is it? Unlovable?”
There’s a spotlight creeping over you – bright white and burning. Lighting every inch of you up, every dark shadow uncovered. The monsters and the phantoms and the six, eight, twelve-legged beasts scuttling off in search of refuge.
Jeers and cackles from an audience behind him as he cranes the neck of the lamp and positions it right on you.
“Don’t –”
“…Worth nothin’? I don’t know, angel, but I can’t do anything about it if you won’t let me, and –”
“Joel –”
He’s not listening. He never fucking listens. He’s still going on, but your ears are ringing, and your vision is whitening, and your chest is constricting, and your throat is dry and your lungs are closing and your skin is hurting and your –
“What the fuck did you even expect?” you hiss, before your brain catches the words.
Joel halts. He finally stops talking. The room finally dims again. You can hear cars on the street. Your phone is ringing at your desk.
You repeat your question, quieter. Heavier. “What did you want from me?”
He’s frozen. Looks concerned. Looks…afraid of you. “I never wanted anything from you,” he says.
“No? Sure sounds like you wanted something.”
He doesn’t say a word. It gives you time, you think – time you know you should put into backing up, thinking it through, not saying it. But you don’t do any of those things. You fucking say it anyway, don’t you? You are your father’s daughter. The anger is woven into your skin, ivy around your bones. The fire behind your eyes isn’t love, or passion, or determination.
It’s rage.
“Is this what you did to Avery? This why you didn’t wanna marry her?” And then, steeling yourself, gritting your teeth: “What secrets were you keeping from her, Joel?”
He still doesn’t bite. Avery’s not the sore spot, and you know it. There’s a different weakness to him, now. Newer. She’s stood right in front of him.
“I mean,” you scoff, incredulous, “what did you think – that we were gonna end up married or something? AC/DC first dance? Big wedding in Italy, three kids and a fucking prenup to save your ass ‘n your millions?”
You swear you hear the crash from here. The bear hitting the ground, or the door of the Toyota slamming shut, or Joel’s heart falling apart, maybe. He gathers it up, sweeping it into his hands with what little dignity you’ve left him with, straightens, and –
He’s angry. Looks it, sounds it. Feels it. A way you’ve never seen him before – not directed at you, anyway. Accounting, when they fuck up the budget for the year. Jean-Marc, when he flirts with you too much. Never you. He’s never this mad at you.
Like kids in a playground, coming up with the worst, most poisonous insults to throw at one another – your words swing fast, and he only just manages to swerve them, hitting straight back with a punch made up of his own.
“Naw, you’d probably say yes to my face ‘n then break it off two days later, wouldn’t you?”
It’s low. It stings. Shocks the life back into you, once it’s looped twice around your ears.
Joel knows it. Sees the glint in your eye before you have the chance to clear away the tears. Hears the tiny gasp that escapes your lips. The bear just stepped right on top of the snake.
“Fuck,” he says instantly. As soon as the sentence leaves his mouth, he’s undoing it. “That wasn’t – I didn’t mean…” He’s stepping forward, trying to wrap his hand around your arm. “Baby, I’m so sorry –”
Your wrist slips from his grasp. “Don’t – don’t touch me. Don’t.”
“Hey,” he says, almost cooing, almost trying to fan the burn with light breaths, “look at me. Please look at me. I did not mean that, alright? I was just –”
You shake your head, staring off past him. “It’s fine, Joel. No, I knew exactly what you meant.”
He staggers backwards, running his hands through his hair; almost growling into his palms when he drags them down his cheeks. “Darlin’,” he says, and leans in again. He speaks slow and seriously. “I would give you anything. There is not a thing in this world that I wouldn’t do for you. I would do anything. In the whole damn world. This is – It’s not –”
“Anything?” you ask, your stone-set gaze refusing to meet his.
He mirrors your curious expression, his own brows lifting. He can’t believe you’re even asking him. “Yes. Anything. I care about you more than anyone in the fucking world.”
He probably says more to convince you. Probably promises a load of stuff, apologizes a couple more times. Probably says sentences that would lodge themselves between your vertebrae and paralyze you with fear, if your hearing weren’t muffled and your mind elsewhere.
Your shoulders tighten. Jaw ticks. When you pull your eyes to finally meet his, you nod. “Alright,” you interrupt, pursing your lips, “okay.”
“Okay?”
Another nod. Yeah. You’re about to do this. Father’s daughter aren’t you just your father’s daughter always running out always running off –
“This is over. It’s done. You don’t look at me, you don’t touch me, you don’t talk to me unless it’s somethin’ in your job description or mine. Hell, even then – see if Martha can do it before you ask me. We’re done.”
It wipes him clean. Every thought, every desire, every motivation – gone. Dissolved, by the venom seeping from your fangs. No more bear. He stares back at you, eyes glossy, lips trembling. He flattens them against one another, steadies himself. Angry, upset, fucking – heartbroken.
“Is that what you want?” he asks. His voice breaks. It sends a blade through your chest.
You hesitate. Your eyes are searing. Between your tears and the nauseating tilt of the room, you can barely see him.
The third lie rolls from your tongue like a marble.
“Yeah. It’s what I want.”
And you know it, better than anyone: you’re lying through your fucking teeth. The way you have been this entire conversation. Pasting over wounds and scars, bricks laid over sodden sand foundations. But you’re petrified – stood on your own, fighting your own corner. The only person who ever managed to make you feel safe, calm you down, lower your gloves for you – now stood opposite with his fists up, too.
Joel nods. Anything in the whole damn world.
“Fine,” he says, eventually. “Fine. We’re done.”
#joel miller#joel miller fic#joel miller x reader#ceo!joel miller#ceo!joel#sugardaddy!joel miller#the last of us#the last of us fic#pedro pascal#sex on fire
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Hiiii, how are you? I have this on my mind for such a long time. I dont know how to explain this but im gonna try my best! So like Tom had really hard day and take it out on reader, like really rough sex, and hes gonna call her like someone really mean stuff, but reader after while get really overwhelmed and overstimulated and say her safeword. It will end with fluff.
You dont have to write it if you feeling uncomfortable with it ofc! I hope you've a good day!<3
safeword
tom kaulitz x reader
summary: you get a bit too overwhelmed
tags: smut warning!!, rough sex, overstimulation, degrading, dom! tom, dacryphilia, cunnilingus (fem receiving), use of safewords, slapping/spanking, squirting, use of the word cvnt, unprotected sex (wrap it up!!), reader is on birth control though :), spitting in someone’s mouth, tom having a breeding kink bc i said so, use of the words wh0re, fvck toy and slvt :), aftercare, crying, some angst, fluff!! :)
lowercase intended :)
smut under cut- both tom and reader are 18+!! minors dni!!
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
you gasp, hands tugging his hair as your back arches. tom’s lips wrap around your clit, sucking harshly as his fingers draw another orgasm from you. your thighs shake around his head as you whimper, tears staining your cheeks. “tom- please- it’s too much..!” you moan, glad that the two of you were completely alone so the rest of the band couldn’t hear you. “just a few more, baby.” tom mumbles, completely drunk off your pussy as he once again refuses to move away. his tongue moves down your slit, pushing into your hole to lap up any juices, they stain down his chin as he hums against your cunt. “tommy, please..!” you squeeze your thighs around his head. shuddering as you cum on his tongue.
tom chuckles, prying your thighs open so he had more room to pleasure you. his tongue moves up again to flick against your swollen clit, fingers slick with your cum as he thrusts them into you again. “t-tom, s’too much-!” you wail, squeezing around his fingers tightly. “you can take more than this baby. i haven’t gotten to fuck you yet.” he purrs, hand moving to pin your hips to the bed as you thrust them against his face. “don’t be a brat…” he mumbles to you, kissing along your pussy just to feel you twitch and flutter. “please, just fuck me already.” you whine, eyes looking down at him. he hums, moving up your body to kiss your lips.
the taste of you almost makes you cringe, yet tom adored it, he loved eating you out. “since you asked so nicely.” he smiles at you, lips latching onto your neck to suckle a dark hickey onto your skin. his cock presses against your cunt, it’s hot and sticky due to the pre cum that had gathered as he ate your cunt. “tom, please.” you beg, voice hoarse. he hums, wetting his cock using your cum. “you’re so pretty when you’re underneath me.” he tells you, pushing his cock in rather roughly. you gasp at the feeling of being stretched fully, immediately clenching down on his cock. tom groans, thrusting into you no matter how hard you squeezed him. “tom-! tom!” you moan, unable to find any other words as your nails dig into the soft skin of his back. tom winces slightly as you leave deep red marks behind on his back, sucking in a breath through his teeth as his hands push your thighs open to give himself more room.
his tip hammers against that sweet spot that had you sobbing, your cum gushing against him as you writhe a little. “stay still.” tom grumbles, hooking one of your legs over his shoulder to hit even deeper. you whimper out a soft apology, yet it’s cut off as you moan loudly. tom adores it, his lustful eyes drinking in how your tears rolled down your cheeks. your hips buck against his, legs trembling as you whimper and whine. “such a needy whore.” he purrs, thumb moving down to your clit. you gasp as he rubs harsh circles over your sensitive bud, cumming even harder as he fucks you senseless. “baby-“ you choke out. tom drops your leg down so you could hook them around his hips, drawing him in even further. “you’re such a whore for me, aren’t you? my pretty little slut.”
you whine at his harsh words, back arching. “tom-“ you whine, yet he cuts you off with a harsh slap. “sluts don’t speak.” he scolds, hand moving down to grab your ass. you whimper softly, body rocking with each hard thrust. you can’t help the loud moans that fall from your lips as you cum again, and again- all whilst tom held out. “god, you’re so fucking needy for me.” tom grunts, his own orgasm close. “tom-“ he spanks your ass hard, leaving a red mark behind. “shut up.” he glares at you, you whimper softly. “s-sorry..!” you gasp, back arching. tom groans softly. “shit… you’re such a little slut- taking me so well. fuck-“ he pants softly, fingers digging into the flesh of your thighs. “tommy-!”
“how many times do i have to tell you to shut up? good sluts don’t talk, do they?” he grabs your jaw, leaning down. you open your mouth, letting him spit onto your tongue. “swallow.” he demands, closing your mouth for you. you do so, making sure he can see your throat move as you swallow his spit. “so you can follow orders. why’re you trying to be such a brat for me?” he coos, watching you sob at the overstimulation. “aw, my baby is just so pathetic, isn’t she?” tom laughs, it’s cold and cruel. you didn’t particularly like when he got this mean, yet you were too busy having your brains fucked out to fully compute what he was saying. “tom, i need you..” you request meekly, hands grabbing at his shoulders. “i know you do. fuck- you’re so lucky.” he grunts, cock twitching as he grows even closer. “so so lucky. my pretty little whore.”
tom moans as he cums, filling you up, yet he doesn’t stop thrusting into you as if it were his only purpose. you moan, back arching as your noises crumble into pleasured sobs. “fuck… my pretty little fuck toy- you’re so hot like this.” tom groans, pushing his tongue into your mouth as he kisses you. you kiss back weakly, thighs squeezing his hips. “you don’t realise how lucky you are, do you?” he smiles innocently, finally pulling out from you. before you can even begin to come down from your high, his fingers are pushing his cum back in, thrusting faster than before. you wail, back arching as you try to move your hands down to grab his wrist. tom snatches your hand, pushing them both above your head as he continues to pleasure you.
“so many girls want this, i could go out and find another so easily. you’re so lucky.” he coos, you snap, breaking down into sobs. “red..! red!” you whimper, tom’s eyes widen a little as he pulls his fingers from your sopping cunt. “shit- i’m sorry baby. i didn’t mean to-“ he cuts himself off as you move away slightly, sniffling and whimpering as you curl up a little. “i don’t mean that, baby. i’m sorry.” he whispers, moving over to try and comfort you. “just- stop for a moment, please.” your voice wavers. tom feels terrible; he knows how insecure you got, knows how you felt in the beginning of your relationship. “i didn’t mean it.” he tells you softly, hoping you’d at least look at him.
tom ponders for a moment before getting up off the bed, he’s angry- but not at you; at himself for being so stupid as to say that to you. he looks around, gathering his clothes and pulling them on. your soft cries break his heart, he hates being the reason that you’re upset. tom glances at you before leaving the room, you hear him jogging away. you sniffle, curling up tighter as you sob. your brain is filled with all sorts of possibilities, some completely unrealistic, yet you’re too upset to decipher many of them. assuming tom had left, you bury your face into his pillow, sobbing harder.
you don’t know how long you had been crying, your head hurts, your nose is stuffy. the door slowly clicks open. tom pants, gathering himself as he steps inside. “baby.” he coos, moving over to the bed. “have you not moved?” he frowns, crouching beside you. you whimper softly, finally looking at him. “oh my sweet girl… don’t cry.” he sighs, kissing your forehead gently. you want to push him away, yet you can’t. “why did you leave me?” you hiccup, tears still falling. “i went out and got you some of your favourite snacks.” tom explains, he puts a bag down on the floor beside the bed. you hum a little, letting tom scoop you up from his bed. “c’mon, you need to get cleaned up.” he mumbles, bringing you into the bathroom that was adjoined to his bedroom.
you sniffle as tom sits you down on the counter, watching him grab a towel and dampen it. with tender care, he carefully cleans you up, being careful as to not press too hard. you’re silent, excusing the occasional sniffles and your breath hitching. tom feels terrible. “i’m so sorry, baby…” he sighs, kissing your lips gently. “i love you, i’d never ever cheat on you. i don’t know what i was thinking…” tom’s eyes are full of regret as he wipes your cheeks for you. you hum, hugging him tightly. “it’s okay…” you sigh, voice hoarse. “no, baby- it’s not. i’m really sorry.” tom hugs you back, a wave of relief washing over him. “i suppose there is a way you can make it up to me.” you smile a little, pulling away. “anything, baby. i’ll do anything.” he replies rather desperately.
“i get to wear anything in your closet, cuddles, snacks- and watch a movie with me- i get to pick!” you list off, tom smiles widely. “of course baby.” he chuckles, lifting you from the counter. you giggle softly, hugging his neck to keep yourself balanced. tom let’s you down, watching you move to his closet. smiling to yourself, you pick out your favourite hoodie; which coincidentally was also one of tom’s. he rolls his eyes playfully, yet deep down he didn’t mind. snatching a pair of his boxers, you slip into his clothes before getting into bed. tom gets in beside you, handing you the remote. “thank you..!” you chirp, seemingly brightened. “no problem, baby.” he mumbles. leaning over, he picks up the bag he had left on the floor, putting it down between the two of you. turning on the tv, you rummage through the cd’s tom owned. you hum slightly, finally picking ghostbusters. “ghostbusters?” tom raises his brows. “i get to pick..!” you remind him, getting up to put it into the cd player. tom hums, bringing the snacks out of the bag. “of course, of course.” he smiles, stealing a quick kiss.
you set the snacks aside, cuddling into tom’s chest. he exhales slowly through his nose. “i’m sorry again, baby. i love you.” he mutters, kissing your head. “i know.” you reply innocently. tom’s stomach sinks. you let your words marinate for a second before looking up at him. “i’m just messing with you. i love you too.” you smile, kissing his lips. “you little minx.” he chuckles, kissing you again. “the movies starting.” he tells you; you hum gently. he can’t keep his eyes on the screen, too busy looking at you. you’re curled up beside him, head resting on his chest as you watch the movie. tom’s hands gently rub your back, watching you melt into him even further. “watch the movie..!” you scold gently, hand softly hitting his side. “sorry.” he smiles, turning back to the tv. you smile, letting your legs tangle between his, arms squeezing his torso tightly as you listen to his heart beat methodically.
the movie carries on, and around the 30 minute mark tom glances back down at you. you’d dozed off, eyes closed, mouth slightly agape as you breathe slowly. tom smiles, pausing the movie and moving the snacks from the bed and onto the bedside table. “i love you, baby.” he tells you, craning his neck and kissing your forehead gently. you hum sleepily, clinging to tom even tighter as you slept. he sighs, wondering how he got so lucky to be with you.
#tokio hotel#tokio hotel x reader#tom kaulitz#tom kaulitz x reader#tom kaulitz smut#// 🦇 kqulitz’s writing#no offense intended!!!
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JUST ANOTHER DAY
[Hayakawa family series]
Just your average day in the Hayakawa household. Pregnant fem! Reader
cw: none i can think of, aki denji and power literally hurling insults at each other 😆
700ish words
It was way too damn quiet for Aki.
Usually when he got back, Power and Denji were doing some crazy shit like jumping from the couch onto the ceiling or chasing each other with knives....but not today.
It was such a weird feeling that he couldn't help but think of the worst case scenario.
He took in a deep breath, preparing himself to lose the little sanity he had left.
But what he saw was the complete opposite.
Y/n sat on the floor crossed legged while Power and Denji painted little drawings onto her baby bump.
"You're taking up all the space idiot!", Power complained to Denji who left barely any space on Y/n's stomach for her to paint.
"Yeah well first come first serve", he spat his tongue out at her, causing her to grit her teeth.
Y/n noticed Aki's presence and smiled up at him.
"Welcome back love", she greeted while Aki returned her gleeful smile, placing a chaste kiss on her lips. He gets so happy when he sees her that it made Denji chuckle. Y/n was his weakness.
"Why are you laughing", Aki grimaced.
"Nothing at all", Denji shrugged his shoulders with a smirk.
Aki rolled his eyes, picking up the paint to make sure it was the right type of body paint that wasn’t harmful to the skin or anything. Y/n could be careless at times. "It better be nothing. I feed you".
The two boys had a glaring contest amongst themselves before Y/n finally interrupted them.
"Can I see now?", she asked as Power and Denji scooched back.
Power crossed her arms over her chest with a proud look on her face, albeit her painting being indecipherable.
"It's Meowy!", she exclaimed.
Y/n clapped her hands with a smile.
"It's lovely!".
Aki and Denji could only sweatdrop at the two women fawning over a white patch of paint.
"Hey sorry to break it to ya two but that's just a white blob", Denji revealed.
"Oh yeah? Then what did you paint smartass?", Power huffed.
Denji jumped up as if he'd been waiting for this moment his whole life.
"It's Aki with Pochita's body", he snickered.
When Y/n was around, the boy could get away with literally anything, she was like his shield from Aki.
"You ungrateful brat—", before Aki could get his hands on Denji, Y/n furrowed her brows at him followed by a warning look.
"Hey be nice, I for one think it's cute", Y/n voiced.
The man merely slumped his shoulders with a loud sigh, poor guy was getting bullied in his own home.
“I’ll be nice once they both start paying the bills..”, he muttered to himself.
Both Power and Denji stood up from the floor, the latter stretching his arms out.
"I'm hungry, make food", Power demanded. She then remembered what Y/n told her about when asking for something. "...please", she spoke in a low voice.
"Can I actually try cooking dinner for once", Denji asked. It seemed fun even though he may not be good at it.
Correction, not good at it at all.
"Not a chance", they all responded back in unison.
Damn 😓
Denji went to sulk in the corner while Aki went off to do what he did best.
"....I can't believe you'd leave the woman carrying your child to get up herself", Y/n placed a hand on her heart as if she'd just been shot.
Aki internally scolded himself for forgetting that it was hard for her to get up by herself these days, he quickly made it to her side and helped her up.
"Im sorry", he enveloped her in a hug and plastered kisses all over her face, earning a giggle from her and and bunch of 'ews' from Denji and Power.
“You’re gross!”, Power spoke.
An irk mark formed on Aki’s forehead. “You’re one to be talking about what’s gross or not when you don’t flush the damn toilet—”.
Aki 1 - Power 0
Masterlist :)
A/N: please don’t leave spoilers cause I’m an anime only for now, when I actually have time i’ll read the manga😭😭
And thank ya’ll for 600 followers i fucking love you guys 🫶
#chainsaw man#aki hayakawa#aki#aki hayakawa x reader#aki x reader#csm#chainsaw man x you#chainsaw man x y/n#chainsaw man x reader#csm x you#csm x reader#aki fluff#aki hayakawa fluff#hayakawa family#power#chainsaw man power#csm power#denji#denji hayakawa#power hayakawa#makima
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That's my man atsumu x fem!reader
notes: I needed to write smthing for my baby's birthday. fwb tsumu does smthing to a me (it'll end up with getting together bc im silly like that), the samu ver is here
Content: slight language, slightly suggestive, fluff
He smiled at her with those sex eyes of his. Yes, he's giving them to her and not you. Atsumu makes everything so hot and cold, it's hard to tell with him.
She giggles and he laughs too, entertaining her for some pussy. The 'why' is something you will never understand, not when you've had that man down on his knees, eating you out like he was on death row and you were his last meal.
Your hope is that both of their stupid asses feel your heated glare towards them. They don't notice it though, mainly because you're best friend pulls you out of your thoughts.
"The sooner you get over him the sooner my life becomes easier." Your best friend jokes. Their attempts at lightening your mood are ineffective. How could you be in a better mood when the man of your dreams only wants sex from you? You want him, badly, but he doesn't want you.
This was something you were aware of before sleeping with him. Yet, you took it lightly, and now here you are, pouting over him being with another girl.
"I know, it's just-"
They cut you off, "'it's different between us, he treats me better than his other fucks.' I've already heard the whole shebang." Your friend rolls their eyes with a quick smirk.
"He's a college frat boy, there's no way he was serious if he said something in bed. It was probably to set the mood." You know they're right, you're just being delusional. You want your relationship to be something it's not.
The rest of your day was pretty foul. Just as you thought it couldn't get worse it did. You had to present your presentation, because your partner who was supposed to do it has covid, and your other partner is so bad with public speaking that she freezes up.
Your favorite coffee is the only thing that brings you some joy to your day. You're seated in your favorite booth at your favorite cafe. You take small sips and check your social media feed. It's then when you hear your name being called out.
You don't bother to turn to look because you know who it is. He sits at your booth, unaware of the anger you feel currently.
"Don't you have someone's pussy to be buried into?" You ask with venom.
Atsumu gives you that cute little chuckle, you hate it so much right now. It feels like a tear to your pride.
"Only if it's yers." He suggests with a smirk.
"I'm really not in the mood right now Atsumu, why don't you go entertain that girl from bio." Shit, know he'll know and tease you. He'll probably cut things off with you and-
"Oh her? I was just tryin' to get her to do my presentation, but she turned me down." He says casually. This is probably the only time you'll be thankful for Atsumu's obliviousness.
"I could have helped you with it." He knows you're smart, and he would have asked you...
"There was no way I woulda asked ya. You always make me do the work, and only give me commentary on my work." He says sighing. You watch as he places those big rough hands of his under his chin.
He's so pretty, volleyball has not failed him once. Even though some of your friends hate his hair; you think it's cute.
Those eyes, so pretty and brown draw you in to him. Also his muscles are just right, he's not too buff but he's also not thin to the point you can't see anything.
"Yeah, it's called improving. I really hope you didn't think you'd get through college with a pretty face and money. College isn't just one big party. At least not for me." You lecture and Atsumu listens, he always listens.
"For starters I do my work now, I ain't slept with a teacher since freshman year which was almost two years ago. Thank you very much." He replies to the shade you send his way.
"Anyway, what is it that you wanted?" You ask with a sigh.
"I wanted to check up on ya s'all. My cupcake seemed a lil' outta it today." Fuck his perceptiveness.
"Just tired is all." Atsumu's eyes narrow at your response. Why'd you think you could lie to one of the biggest liars you know?
"The way ya were acting today wasn't as much 'oh gee im tired' but more like 'my sweetie pie tsumu-bear hasn't been paying me any attention.'"
"If you knew, then why where you trying to force it out of me?" You roll your eyes and look back to your phone as to avoid his gaze and your embarrassment.
"I just wanted to hear ya say it because yer so cute." Atsumu is going to be the death of you. He annoys you to no end.
"Just so ya know, I ain't been sleepin' with anyone besides you, sweetheart."
"How do I know you aren't a big fat liar?" The way he smiles when you hiss at him has your heart melting. Why? Why you?
"I'd be an idiot to sleep with someone else when I got the most beautiful girl in my bed all the time." It's so sweet and sincere, his voice is honest you can tell. It feels like a weight has been lifted off your chest, and that Atsumu shaped hole in your heart is slowly being filled.
"Yeah? What're you trying to say, Tsumu?" You peek up from your phone screen to look at his dark eyes. It catches you off guard slightly, the way he looks at you, like you put the stars in the damn sky.
"I knew ya were kinda clueless but this is something else. I want ya to be my girl."He clarifies and you stop breathing for a second. When you'd fantasize about this you'd never thought his confession would be calm. Atsumu is loud and obnoxious, so this quiet, calmness has caught you off guard.
"Is that a question or a demand?" You ask.
"Not a question, m'already confident in ya wanting me." He's prideful and sometimes it sucks but right now.. it's so hot.
"Okay then, I'm yours." You whisper quietly trying to grasp what you've just said.
"Good, best decision you'll ever make, cupcake." Cockiness is laced in his tone and you roll your eyes.
"I said to stop calling me that," You finally drop your gaze back to your phone, but you aren't even paying attention to the dimly-lit screen. Your brain is exploding right now.
"You're my man now." It finally registers.
"Sure am."
#haikyuu#haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader#atsumu miya#atsumu x you#miya atsumu x reader#atsumu miya x reader#atsumu#atsumu x reader#miya atsumu#hq atsumu#miya atsumu fluff#atsumu fluff#hq fluff#haikyuu fluff
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Im not coming home
Gojo Satoru x reader
Content- angsty angst, just a lot of pain, reference to recent manga,
A.N -> i wrote this in a bus all teary faced with a concerned old uncle looking at me. I need my blue eyed boyfriend so bad. This is me mourning I haven’t been able to do it properly all day. Im sorry pls dont kill me. Not proofread this is a heat of the moment writing literally 😭
“See you guys tomorrow”, you say softly before sprinting out of the building. As if your body clock instantly knows when to chime in and draw you back to your nest.
You briskly get out of the room, offering a small wave to Shoko who just entered. Her concerned eyes following your trail.
The sun was floating in the horizon, the ground painted asphalt from the dying colours of the twilight and the air filled with intangible thickness of cold. In the midst of it, you walked. You walk with a rising tornado of emotions bubbling inside you, contrast to the drying winter.
You walked through the bustle of Roppongi. The town was back from the shambles it was two months prior. Always finding a way to bounce back into its original upheaval.
Amongst the skyscrapers decorating Roppongi, you eyes wander to the little sweet shop- selling the ever famous kikufuku — sweet cream filled mochi with Zunda paste. Satoru’s ever favourite.
“baby, this isn’t just a sweet.” Satoru gasps indignantly upon hearing your allegations of getting a cavity from it — “It’s a delicacy. Zunda and sweet cream— a work of culinary that you need to appreciate by savouring it as much as you can”, you roll your eyes as you watch your boyfriend plops another mochi in one bite. “Well that doesn’t mean you can double it up as lunch , Toru. you need to eat some actual meal”
“In that case, I can eat yo— I’m sorry” gojo quickly moves away as you swivel the huge cushion towards him, sweet chuckles erupting from his chest as you look at him poutedly.
The little playback of the memory cracked a little smile on your face — the shop ever so reminiscent of your little late night trips with Satoru whenever you both feel insomniac.
You walk over to the shop, feet reflexively carrying you towards the whirlwind of memories you have with him.
The sun had already settled beneath the darkness when you arrived home. The huge compound of area void of any presence. You enter the room, turning the lights on as you settle on the table. The small bag of kikufuku carefully placed on it.
“I’m home” you say without any conscious thought behind.
How can you? When these words never failed to emerge a 6’3 white-haired nuisance, his large hands encircling your waist, his nose breathing in your scent as you get slightly levitated into the air from the insane height difference. The small whispers of “I love you”s and “I miss you”s exchanged in the small gap between your faces — as if it were eternities since you both met each other. Those cerulean eyes of his mirroring your pools with affection and love that ran miles after miles.
Followed by little kisses pressed to your cheeks, then to your eyes and lastly placed on your lips. Those soft rhythm of his lips like promises of eternity.
Your chest twists in pain like you hugged a teddy bear fashioned with sharp daggers, slicing through your soul.
A sharp throb of your heart against your ribs as if it’s begging to be freed and chase the one it’s destined to beat for always. Your body turns numb, the tears like rivulets against your cheek— while you let them flow freely after a day long facade. Your shaky hands wander aimlessly into the air, pleading to find the silhouette, the comfort, the warmth of his body.
A part of your soul seemed to die everyday since then and today another sliver of it withered into nothingness.
Your voice broken like the shards of mirror reverberates across the large room that no one but you occupy, “im home, ‘toru. Where are you?”
The bag of kikufuku lays on the table as it is but Satoru hasn’t arrived home.
A.N 2 -> Yall pls dont be mad this is my way to cope. Even though I wrote this Im clutching on to the littol hope that he will return. If not then understand gege snuffed the life out of me as well
#sam.writes#sam.in.jjk#gojo x reader#gojo angst#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru x reader angst#gojo x reader angst#gojo satoru angst#gojo x you#gojo satoru#jjk gojo#jujutsu kaisen gojo satoru#jujutsu kaisen#jjk236#jujutsu kaisen angst#jjk#gojo satoru x you#gojo satoru x you angst#angst#jjk angst#satoru x reader#satoru x reader hc#jjk hc#jujutsu kaisen headcanons#gojo imagines angst#gojo satoru imagines angst
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BIRTHDAY GIRL
pairing - sub!joshua x dom!reader
summary - when all you want for your birthday is to dom your loving boyfriend. however, things take a turn after you realise joshua has a particular, sensitive spot.
a/n - idea came to me when i saw a pic with one of his nips out... yeah im down bad ＞︿＜
NSFW CONTENT ! MDNI !
SMUT warnings under the cut !
SMUT WARNINGS: nipple play, praise, pet names (sweetheart, ((pretty)) baby, love, babe), reader gets called joshua's "birthday girl" but besides that there's no indication of their gender. SO so cringe i do not know how to write smut ╯︿╰
if there is one thing joshua hong hates, it’s giving up control in the bedroom. watching his lover struggle to take the pleasure he gives them is his favourite thing in the world (besides maybe, well, you). so how was he here, laying completely naked on the bed, with a fully clothed you hovering over him ?
well, today is your birthday. that’s why. despite joshua insisting the day be all about you, you had one present in mind. dom him. to have him feel the pleasure he gives you. and what better way to do that than to straddle him onto the bed, threatening to stop when he puts his hands on you ?
joshua had never looked prettier in your eyes. lips red and puffy from your intense make out session, a blush spreading from the tips of his ears down to his chest, and your favourite part: the collage of marks left on his neck from your wandering mouth. his chest was heaving up and down with his ragged breaths.
after meeting your eyes peering down at him, a lopsided grin appears on his face. “fuck… you enjoying this nearly as much as i am ?” he huffs out through his staggering breaths. your head tips back as you let out a laugh. “yes sweetheart. thank you for letting me do this.”
“anything for my birthday girl hmm ?”
you share a quick peck, giggling into the kiss, before he slips his tongue into your mouth, moaning at the feeling of your lips on his.
while the two of you breathe into each others mouths, your hands begin to rake down his chest, and his groans quickly turn to whimpers, making you quirk your lips. “oh ? seems like i’ve found a sweet spot huh ?” a smirk is evident in your voice. he looks up at you, his eyes completely pitch black with lust.
an idea begins to form in your head. making eye contact, you tweak his nipple, watching intently as his eyes roll back at the sensation. his mouth drops open and lets out a wanton moan, as his hips cant up to gain some friction.
you watch in awe as he gains his breath from the intense surge of pleasure he felt burn through his body. he looks up at you, eyes wide and curious, you mirroring his look.
you thought you knew all the in’s & out’s of josh and his pleasure, but you had clearly missed this key point.
the two of you stared at each other, arousal evident in your faces. the eye contact felt electric, nothing being heard except joshua's panting. while continuing to curiously stare into his lust blown eyes, you continue your ministrations. pinching his nipples, the same reaction occurs. “f-fuck! oh my fucking god” whimpers erupt from his mouth, eyes clenched tightly shut from the onslaught of pleasure he’s feeling. still trying to contain some of his dignity, he attempts to bite back the lewd noises escaping his plump lips, biting down hard enough to draw blood. you could've came from the sight alone.
“my pretty baby likes me playing with his chest hmm ?” you’re wearing a sadist grin on your face, realising the new leverage you have over your boyfriend. “let me hear how good i’m making you feel love, don’t hold back for me." your praise does the trick, as his teeth release his bottom lip, and the sounds you so desperately wanted to hear filled the room.
“y-yeah fuck… feels s’good, so fu-“ his groans get cut off after he feels the wet heat of you mouth envelope his chest. a wail loud enough to concern the neighbours pierces through the air, as joshua’s brain turns nothing short of mush.
his hips are now consistently bucking up into the air, desperate for some kind, any kind of pressure. the continuous arching of his back causes you to lift up with him. but you don’t let the movement stop your eager mouth from biting & licking around his nipple.
he glances down to see your eyes, way too doe eyed & innocent to reflect your current actions, staring back at him, his nipple stuck between your perfect lips. the sight alone makes a shudder run through his spine, as his head falls backwards onto the pillow, the pleasure to much for his body to contain.
"y'look so pretty for me joshy" your words are barely audible, mouth still fluttering around his tits. his chest is drenched in your saliva, and your positive he can feel the growing arousal pooling between your thighs, resting atop his abs.
you reach one hand forward to hold his hand that is desperately pulling at the sheets below, while your other moves to his other nipple not completely engulfed by your mouth. you synchronise the movements of your finger with your tongue, tweaking and flicking in whatever way causes the best reaction.
you continue to lazily lap at his chest, licking languidly, his eyes boring into yours doing nothing but rile you up more. you skim your tongue around his nipple, before enclosing it around the pebbled flesh, letting your teeth gently scrape against it.
joshua, who can seemingly never shut up in the bedroom, has been reduced to nothing but a mumbling mess, his brain officially short circuiting. his hips continue to violently jerk after every small movement. most of his words are incoherent, starting a sentence before a harsh pant rips through.
“fuck oh my god. fuck so- shit, so good. i’m- fuck. please”
“it’s okay baby, i’ve got you. so fucking gorgeous hm ?” you mumble, seemingly unable to remove your lips from around his nipple for even a second.
"please- please i- fuck- babe please, i can't-"
his breath hitches, a plethora of pleas, as well as a couple whines of your name, fall from his lips. you can tell he’s enjoying himself, but you didn’t know to what extent he was.
when you finally decide to suck on his chest, he loses it. you watch as his mouth drops open in a silent scream, noises that could only be described as pained sobs tumbling from deep within his chest. his hips rutt pathetically up into the air one last time, before you feel his thighs under you begin to shake.
his whole body begins to quiver under you from the weight of his orgasm, as you continue your onslaught on his chest, helping him ride out his high.
once you determine that he has come down, you detach your lips from his red, swollen chest, & patiently wait for him to catch his breath.
“fuck. fuck sorry love. sorry. i didn’t mean to cum like that” he flushed red in embarrassment from realising he came untouched like a horny teen. through his panting, he lifts his hands up to cover his beat red face.
“hey, sweetheart look at me ?” you attempt to pull his hands away from his face. “y’did so good for me, baby. did so good for me.” you lean down to place kisses all around his face, ranging from his cheeks, to his forehead, before eventually landing on his lips.
joshua brings his hands up to your face, cradling it while brushing some hair out of the way. “still. happened so quickly. m’sorry i ruined your present baby” he flicks his thumb back and forth on your cheek.
“ruined ? josh.” you grab his cheeks, mirroring his action. you stare into his eyes. “that was the hottest fucking thing i’ve ever seen.” he completely flushed from your words, attempting to shy away from your gaze. incoherent mumbles of “babeeee stop” escape his lips, still avoiding your eyes.
“no babe seriously, that was ridiculously hot. like out of this world fucking hot. shit i wouldn’t have been surprised if i came untouched too.”
“don’t say it like that ! that’s embarrassing !” his giggles ring throughout the room, a smile tugging at your lips from your favourite sound.
"seriously, shua, thank you for letting me do that. best present i could’ve ever asked for.”
he looks up at you, with fondness in his eyes. the two of you share a loving kiss before josh speaks up.
“well.. i know you wanted it to last a bit longer.” he flips you over, so he’s hovering over you. “how about… i eat you out... before we go for a round two ?”. as he awaits your response, he grabs your hand and begins kissing your wrist up to your shoulder.
you pretend to think for a moment, before a grin overtakes your face. “you’re on hong”.
first attempt at writing smut, please lmk any tips i can approve on !
(づ￣ 3￣)づ
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AXIEIEEE hi this is a req ᕦ(ò_óˇ)ᕤ btw im on my way home to rec in my dreams rn!! anywayy i am SUCH a strong believer that jeonghan babies u no matter what or when. even in front of his members n theyre js like erm get a room? u cld literally say "hannie i made the bed" n he'd be all "omg my baby made the bed youre so cute" n then he kisses u ... do with this idea ish what u will!!! i believe in u cuz youre so good at writinf (btw your pinned says reqs are open but if they arent actually pleasee ignore this 😭)
proud
author's note. hi roxie meloved!! i hope u like ths one hehe, thank u for reqing <33 and again, good luck w exams if u have any more upcoming and im proud of u nevertheless the score!!!
word count. ~750
jeonghan is a devil in the disguise of an angel, everyone knows that. even carats adore his mischievous personality and tricks that he pulls on his members.
but the thing is that behind closed door, he truly is an angel. for you and only you.
“baby, do you want some coffee?” jeonghan asked, looking over his shoulder at you. his bare face was glowing, dark hair tucked behind his ear. he even let you put a hello kitty clip to keep them in one place. he was met with seungcheol’s teases but he ignored them.
“yes, please” you replied, eyes laser focused on the jenga tower in front of you.
it was 10 in the morning and you woke up like an hour ago from the sleepover you had with him and cheol. because they couldn’t join their members on tour, you decided to bless them with your amazing self.
“make me one too” cheol hummed and slowly but surely pulled out a wooden block.
now who jeonghan was to follow his leader’s orders?
you caught his cat-alike smirk painting on his lips and sighed.
“hannie, don’t be mean. make him a coffee too” you said, voice gentle. seungcheol looked at him confused, lips forming into a pout.
“listen to your partner…” he grunted and shook his head, adding more quietly underneath his breath “…if you don’t listen to me, listen to them at least”
couple of minutes later he joined you with three steaming cups. with your preferred coffee in your favorite mug and a simple one for seungcheol, even though he wasn’t a fan of plain black coffee. the oldest ignored that, just rolling his eyes.
you joined jeonghan to watch the boys practice, yet you two were slumped over the couch there.
in no time jeonghan began playing with your hair, fingers gently caressing through your h/c locks.
mingyu glared at you two curiously, nudging hoshi. the younger one grinned, heart melting upon the cute act of love blooming between you two.
jeonghan grabbed your face, cupping your cheeks and cooing at you.
“you’re so adorable, baby” he hummed and pecked your lips.
“but hannie, the boys–” you grunted through your squeezed cheeks. he just chuckled, mischievously smiling.
“i don’t care~” your boyfriend sing-sang happily “you’re my baby~”
placing another kiss on your lips, he hummed into it like a pleased cat that’s getting belly rubs.
“ew, get a room!” hoshi yelled, drawing a laugh from other members.
your cheeks turned beetroot red as you smacked jeonghan’s arm. he just shrugged and linked pinkies with you, playful smirk dancing on his features.
if jeonghan could, he’d give you the world, the stars, everything in this universe and back. and seeing you struggle or in pain was the last thing he wanted. but he knew that there are some things that you have to go through by yourself, like your finals.
“i could dress up as you and pretend i’m you!” your boyfriend teased one day when you clearly needed support, head almost blowing with the amount of knowledge you have to obtain.
so in times like this, when you’d spend nights studying and struggling with life, jeonghan knew that you need him. and that every thing, even a small one can be challenging.
“hannie, i made the bed today. i used a new–“ you started when he entered the bedroom. his eyes instantly went wide as jeonghan threw himself on the fresh sheets.
“ah, it smells so good!” he took a deep breath and hummed in delight. patting the spot next to him, he sent you a reassuring smile.
so you joined him, his arm almost instinctively wrapping around yours.
“my baby made the bed, good job” jeonghan smiled tenderly, brushing the strand hairs out of your face. you smiled, looking at his soft features “i’m proud, really. we’ll sleep comfortably tonight, hm?”
you nodded and turned, wrapping your arms around his waist and clinging onto your boyfriend like a koala.
“i’m tired” you mumbled quietly.
“i know, pretty. just a few moments more and you’ll rest. you’re so smart, you know? i believe in you” jeonghan kept reassuring you, his tender touch ghosting over your face “my cute baby, hm? no matter how you do on the exam, i’m proud of the effort you put in”
you smiled, inhaling the scent of fresh sheets and jeonghan’s cologne.
“my cutie…” he singsang and started lulling you to sleep with his angelic voice. not like you complained, you could use a nap either way.
masterlist <3
taglist. @mirxzii ,, @primoppang ,, @l3visbby ,, @nicholasluvbot ,, @planetkiimchi ,, @weird-bookworm ,, @slytherinshua ,, @kazmura ,, @laylasbunbunny ,, @dazzlingligth ,, @eternalgyu
#jeonghan x you#jeonghan fic#jeonghan fluff#svt jeonghan#jeonghan#blue jisungs's ask game#svt fluff#svt x y/n#svt x reader#svt x you#svt drabbles#svt drabble#svt soft hours#svt reactions#svt scenarios#svt imagines#jeonghan drabbles#jeonghan imagines#jeonghan reaction#jeonghan scenarios#blue jisungs's requests#yoon jeonghan#jeonghan comfort#jeonghan seventeen#jeonghan x reader
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High and Dry
day two (for me) yall!! im not going to lie, im not feeling 100% right now but im not going to be inconsistent just yet HAHAAHAH i hope you lovelies enjoy this one as much as i enjoyed imagining it
hirai momo x 10th Member!Reader : day 9 edging
disclaimer/s : smut. minors dni
Even before you and Momo started seeing each other exclusively, you knew her to be a huge tease. When you two started dating, it progressively got worse. Each time before practice, she made an effort to whisper the most depraved thing lowly into your ear before smiling coyly and rejoining the rest of the group.
It was absolutely maddening to you.
After weeks and months of built up frustration before practice, you snapped.
You woke up to Momo half asleep, smiling up at you. It's warm, it's a still moment. All until she nuzzles into your neck, leaving lingering and light kisses all over the exposed skin.
"Do we have to go to practice..." Before you can save yourself from her verbal onslaught, she pushes herself on top of you, cornering you against the mattress. "...when we could stay in all day..." The Japanese woman leans impossibly close with a smirk gracing her lips. "Doing everything and anything that pretty mind can think of..."
She pecks your lips gently, her cold hand running under your sleep shirt. You shudder as she pulls away. You know what she'd be doing next, pull away and get ready for the day, leaving you high and dry.
But not today.
Your hands quickly find her waist and flip her over. Your eyes glued to hers as they widen in shock. You'd never really been as bold as you were in this moment, Momo felt her heart pound madly in her chest. A nervous laugh claws its way out of her throat as she tries to push you off.
"Y/n...you know we have practice in an hour." Momo reasons to which you grin ridiculously down at her. You lean down, ghosting over her lips. You feel her release a shaky breath. "An hour is a lot of time, baby. Don't you think?"
Without another word, your lips are on hers. Momo's hands find your face, pulling you closer, her leg hooking to your waist. You feel her groan against your lips as your hands claw up her side. You smirk before pulling away, your head ducking down into the crook of her neck. Leaving open kisses along the column of her neck, your hands busying themselves against her chest.
She groans as the pad of your thumb brushes against her taut nipples. Flicking them up and down, your hand lowering the elastic of her shorts, exposing her hip as you rub slow circles. Momo releases a soft sigh. Her voice shaky as your hand dips into the expanse of her shorts, "N/n...fuck...please."
You smirk against her neck before lifting yourself up. You tilt your head with a quirked brow, "Well how can I say no to something said so sweet?"
Your hand dips into her sleep shorts, smiling to yourself as you feel her need for you. Her arms lock around your neck as your fingers draw tight circles around her clit. You listen to her soft whines, panting soft 'mores' under her breath. Finally giving into what she was begging for, you plunge a finger into her drenched center.
"Y/nnn...!" Momo choked out tightening her grasp around your neck. You place your lips on hers as you add another finger in a feeble attempt to silence her. You smile before slipping your tongue into her mouth, wrapping the muscle around hers as you allow a groan to scratch its way out of your throat.
You pick up the pace, your wrist beginning to cramp as Momo pulls away abruptly from your lips. Head falling into the pillow under her head. Her nails dig into the back of your neck while you watch her eyes begin to roll to the back of her head. "Baby...baby...babyyyy...!"
A small smirk grows on your lips as you pull your hand out of her shirt and shorts respectively. Momo's eyes bulge out of her head as you pull yourself out of the soft duvet of your bed. You run a hand through your hair before getting on your knees.
"Manager-unnie's probably going to be here in a little bit, we should head out Momoring." You get out of bed, stretching your back before disappearing into the bathroom. Despite shaky legs, Momo chases after you. She growls as she corners you against the sink, a self-satisfied smile on your face. "There's no way in hell you're leaving the house like—"
You lean in and peck her lips, biting her lower lip as she's left dazed. Placing a hand on her chest, pushing her back into the cool tiled wall of the bathroom. "Better take a cold shower, Momoring."
Before she can stop you again, your out the door. Leaving Momo high and dry was satisfying in of itself. Practice was going to be incredibly hellish for her.
and i had fun with this, albeit i am a day late HAHAHAHA i hope you all enjoyed it and i will see yall probably again in a few hours for the actual day 10!!
i'll see you all vv soon, keep safe my lovelies!!
- r
#twice#twice x reader#twice imagines#twice smut#twice momo#hirai momo#momo x reader#momo imagines#momo smut#kpop idol x reader#kpop idol imagines#kpop idol smut#girl group imagines#girl group x reader#girl group smut#kpop x reader#kpop imagines#kpop smut#purecantarella#kinktober 2023
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hi it’s 💫 again so sorry for flooding your inbox i just have too much time on my hands so let’s chat about needy carmen :)
he’s definitely a little shy about it at the beginning of the relationship. long, lingering stares and fidgeting with his hands. would probably try playing it cool until he knows you’re in the mood too.
once he’s more confident and comfortable, his hands would be on your waist and hips. giving you ‘please fuck me’ eyes. if he’s not THAT needy he’d be a little silly i think saying shit like “baby please, you just look too good!” “giving me blue balls—im kidding, im kidding! yeesh☺️”
if he is super needy though…he’s cuddled up into your side like he’s trying to melt into you, lips curled into a little frown. “can i have you?” “need you…missed you so much today” “baby just need you so bad”
I told you never apologize for flooding my ask box! Your stuff makes my brain go brrr like AH. ilysm and I love how you think about Carmy!
needy Carmen. Yes. Now that he’s in a relationship he just wants you so bad. Like all the time. He’s had so few romantic relationships he’s still learning how to balance it all.
But! He’s so shy at first he doesn’t know if you are feeling up to it right now and he doesn’t want to overwhelm you. That leads to him not so subtly staring you down while you sit on the couch in his apartment, scrolling through your phone while a show plays in the background.
The first thing you notice is his knee bouncing up and down rapidly. Next his staring becomes more apparent, and the way he’s fighting with his fingertips.
“Something wrong, Carm?” He blinks at your words. Almost like he’s caught off guard himself.
“W-what? No. I’m fine.”
“You sure about that?” You lean closer to him, letting your hand rest on his knee, soothing its shaking. “What is it, baby?”
“Fuck—“ A strangled groan leaves his throat. Your eyes dart down to the bulge growing in his sweatpants. You crawl over him, letting your knees part so you can straddle his hips. Carmy’s hands settle on your waist, holding on tight.
“You want me? Is that why you’re all tense? You gotta tell me before you get like this, sweetheart.”
“W-want you. Please.”
The longer you and Carmen date though, the more confident he becomes. He’s completely unashamed of how much he loves you… and your cunt. Carmy gets sooooo pussy drunk it’s not even funny.
When he catches you all dressed up for a work event, he can’t keep his hands off of you. “Fucking hell— you’re so pretty,” he mumbles into the skin of your neck, pressing you into the bathroom counter where you were getting ready.
“Carm— I need to go I’m going to be late.”
“C’mon, baby. I’ll be fast. I can make you cum in five minutes. I won’t let anything get on your clothes. I promise. Please.” His hand slips underneath your dress, pressing against your soaked underwear. “You’re already soaked for me. Let me make you feel good. Please, baby.”
Carmen is indeed fast. He bends you over the bathroom counter and pounds onto you like there’s no tomorrow. His fingers work fast on your bud, drawing fast circles. He also doesn’t let anything get in your clothes because as soon as he cums inside of you, he falls to his knees to clean you up with his tongue.
Now while his confidence grows in your relationship, he also becomes more okay with just how needy he actually is. He just loves your touch. He loves how your skin feels against his. How you two fit together perfectly.
On this particular day, Carmen has the day off, while you don’t. You get home late to Carmen already in bed. Thinking he’s asleep, you walk over to the other side of the bed and slip under the covers, ready to go to sleep.
However, that’s when Carmen rolls over and wraps his arms around you, nuzzling his face into your skin. “Missed you today.” He’s basically melting into you, desperate to be touching as much of you as possible. “Don’t like it when you’re not here.”
“I know, baby. I couldn’t get anyone to cover for me.”
“C-can I have you?” The desperation in his words draws your attention to the hardness poking into your ass. Little whimpers leave his mouth as his hips naturally rock into you. “Need you so bad, please. Missed you so much.”
“Carm, have you been like this all day?” He nods his head against your shoulder blade.
“I—uh. I had a dream about you, but when I woke up you had already left. I didn’t want to get off without you. Wanted you— wanted your cunt.”
“You have me, baby. Go ahead.”
“Thank you, thank you, thank you. Love you so much.” His hands shake as he pulls down your underwear and then his own. Carmy doesn’t waste time to take off your shirt, he just needs to be inside you.
Carmy fucks you slow. His pace isn’t hurried, focusing more on deep thrusts. The entire time he’s flooding your ear with praise. “F-fuck, baby. So fucking good. You’re so good to me. I-it’s like I’m made for you—“ He whines when you press on the small of his back, forcing his cock even deeper inside of you. He hits a spot that makes stars explode across your vision.
“Carmy— shit! Please, right there. Just like that, fuck—“ you weave your fingers in his hair, tugging at the roots. Carmy’s slow messy pace continues, but it’s perfect. His thumb begins to circle your clit as his cock keeps hitting deep inside you.
“I-I’m getting close baby— love you. Fuck. I love you so much. Going to fill you up till you’re dripping. You’re mine, my beautiful girl.”
“Y-yours, Carm. Always yours.”
And yes he cums inside of you and you cockwarm him to sleep. Ain’t no way he’s going to pull out of you now. You couldn’t care less. With Carmen on top of you like this, you’ve never felt more safe. Clean up can wait till the morning
#💫 anon#carmen berzatto x reader#carmy berzatto x reader#carmen berzatto smut#carmy berzatto smut#brain rot
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blessing
megumi fushiguro x gn!reader
you and fushiguro talk about names
content: nothing, light mentions of blood
an: your consolation prize - a megumi draft while I edit you belong with me gojo. if your name has a meaning, im sorry it doesn't anymore.
--
“Do you think names are important, Megumi?”
Megumi flutters his eyes open and squints in the dark to direct his gaze to you. You’re splayed right against his bare chest, nimble fingers drawing indiscernible shapes onto his skin. He knows you can’t sleep after missions, which is the only reason he allows your needless rambling at four in the morning.
“Is this another of those angel sign things Nobara taught you?” he groans, lifting a hand to place it in your hair, the smell of your strawberry shampoo wafting into his space.
“It’s angel numbers and astrology signs.” you respond, lightly nudging him with your elbow.
“That stuff isn’t real.”
“Maybe not Megs, but it’s fun to think about.”
You look over at him and Megumi can feel his heart thumping in his chest, your expectant eyes staring at him as you wait for a response. And he hates that your stupid eyes always make him give in.
“Okay, fine. Tell me.”
You grin and readjust yourself so you’re propped up on his chest, so you can get the perfect vantage point of the grumpy face he’s going to make at you.
“Some people think names have power. Like, depending on what the meaning of your name is, that can affect how you act and who you are and stuff.”
He frowns, reaching forward to flick you on the forehead, before grabbing your hand and resting your knuckles against his lips.
“So you’re saying, if we named our kid asshole, he’d be an asshole?”
“Our kid would be an asshole because you have an attitude problem. Not because we named him asshole.”
He rolls his eyes, reaching forward to pinch your cheeks.
“But think about it, Megs. For example, Yuu’s name means relaxed and caring. Don’t you think that fits him?”
“Itadori is anything but relaxed, Y/N.”
“Okay, well. It’s half true. Nobara means thorny. Doesn’t that compliment her cursed technique?”
“Uh huh. I still don’t buy it.”
“Or Gojo-sensei. Satoru means understanding, like enlightenment. He’s literally the strongest sorcerer.”
Megumi wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you up closer to burrow his face into your neck. He loves the smell of your shampoo, of your flowery perfume - but loves it even more when he can smell it on himself the next day.
“You talk too much, Y/N.”
“Do you know what your name means Megumi?”
“No. I’ve never really thought about it.”
“Your name means blessing.”
Megumi has never wondered about his name or what it means. All he knows is that when he was younger his dad and Tsumiki’s mom disappeared one day, leaving the two of them alone. That is until Gojo showed up.
And unlike you, he’s never really thought about these things. Star signs, Enneagram personality types, birth charts, angel numbers. According to you, they’re little signs - from the celestials, the universe, something out there bigger than you two.
Granted, he knows you’re being silly. That you don’t really believe it. But he can’t help but wonder. If his parents saw him and picked out the perfect name. Or if they saw a baby book and closed their eyes and pointed till they found one they liked. If they named him blessing, because they thought he was one.
If they were intentional in their love for him, like you have been for the past year, the two of you have been dating. You leave a glass of water on his nightstand, so he makes sure to drink water in the morning. Pick up his drycleaning when you’re on your way home, insisting that it’s no trouble and you’re already there. Tell him to throw pennies in fountains and make a wish just because.
“I think it fits perfectly, Megs.” you whisper, tracing a little star onto the side of his arm.
He doesn’t respond, his blue eyes focused on the ceiling above you too.
“I just mean. Gojo-sensei was probably really lonely after everything that happened with Getou. But you were around and he had you with him, so he wasn’t really lonely. And-and I know Yuuji appreciates being here with you and that he really admires you. Nobara too and-”
“Y/N.”
You think back to the mission, earlier today. And it keeps replaying through your mind, every time it’s quiet enough to think about it.
You let your guard down for a few seconds. A few seconds too many because when you and Yuuji turned around, he was on the floor - thick, red blood spilling out of his forehead. And really, if you weren’t busy discussing what souvenirs to buy on the way out, if you were paying attention, maybe you wouldn’t be the one dragging him back to Shoko’s and watching from a distance with such an intense guilt that it made your stomach burn.
“I think you’re a blessing too, y’know? Maybe I don’t say it all the time, but I do. I guess it’s just hard to say how you feel sometimes when…I don’t know, we could die tomorrow Megs and-”
Megumi brings his hand back up to your hair, brushing through the tangles at the back as he presses a kiss to the top of your head. You know Megumi. His hand in your hair - to drop it, to let it go. The kiss on your head - that he’s already looked past what happened.
“What does your name mean, Y/N?”
“Dunno. Couldn’t really find it in the books or anything.”
--
You wake up to the left side of the bed empty, the mattress cold and missing a Megumi shaped space. His glass has been drained on the nightstand, meaning he’d probably left already for breakfast. You quickly pad back to your own dorm and pull your uniform on, before joining them all for breakfast.
You join the three of them at the desk - already loudly arguing about god knows what. You place a hand on Megumi’s shoulder as you slide into the seat next to him, granting you a small smile from him. He places a hand on your thigh and squeezes, another one of Megumi’s silent messages.
You’re okay.
Nobara and Yuuji are holding up the name book you had looked at the day prior, Nobara pinching the end of his ear as they argue.
“This name thing isn’t true. You’re full of shit.” Yuuji complains, pushing the book towards you and Megumi.
You open up the book, already open to Yuuji’s name at the end of the book.
“Who the fuck said I thought it was true? It’s just fun to look at.” Nobara responds.
“Well, why did you bring it up? You’re acting like you’re connected with some celestial body shit but you’re just making stuff up.” Yuji responds, standing up.
The three of them stand up, packing up their things as they get ready to head to training on the field with the second years. You’re still stuck on the book - flipping through to check everyone’s names. Gojo, Shoko, Toge, Maki.
As you flip through the pages, you note a dark indentation on one of the pages in the middle, and quickly try to flip through to find it again.
“You coming?” Megumi asks, bag slung over his shoulder at the door.
“Yeah. I’m coming, give me a second.”
The three of them shrug as they walk out, their incessant chattering still heard from the window outdoors. You finally find the page and the dark blotches of writing at the bottom.
Someone’s written in the book, with a black marker. You recognize the handwriting immediately, Megumi’s freakishly neat handwriting inscribed in the book.
Y/N. Meaning: love or warmth.
You quickly shut the book and run out, where the three of them are already walking to class. Nobara and Yuuji are now peering over her phone, looking at god knows what, which you take as your opportunity to grab Megumi and lightly drag him back.
“Megs.”
“Hm?”
“Did you write in the book?”
He rolls his eyes, lightly nudging you with his elbows, as you guys keep walking on.
“No. I didn’t.”
“Yes. You did. I know your handwriting, idiot.”
“No. I didn’t. And even if I did, so what? The book was missing your name.” he responds, pinching his eyebrows as he looks at you.
“Okay. So you did write in it. But you can’t just give my name a meaning, we don’t even know if that’s true.”
“All words have made up meanings. If someone came up to us and told us that trees are actually called birds, we’d start calling them birds.”
“Okay but-”
“I decided. That’s what your name means. Because that’s what you are. Now, be quiet and focus on training.” he responds.
He drops your hand and walks past, stretching in between Nobara and Maki as the group of them start stretching out. He looks over and gives you a soft smile, the one he only reserves for you, and you can only think that you truly are blessed, to be loved by someone like him.
--
taglist: @porridgesblog @platrom @k0z3me @kayleegomez @yihona-san06 @bsenpai @sweetenertea @skzismyhome @mykyoon @violetmatcha @rebeccawinters @luna0713hunter @shotenvinsoott @itzmeme @squirrelspoetry
#megumi fushiguro#megumi x you#megumi x reader#megumi x y/n#fushiguro x you#fushiguro x reader#fushiguro x y/n#jjk x you#jjk x reader#jjk x y/n#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu megumi#megumi fluff#jjk megumi#itadori yuuji#nobara kugisaki
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every single word you have ever written? so real pookie!!!
dropping in to say g!pchaewon and g!psakura are truly the realest thing to me, bc who else (me) is going to ride chaewon until she’s passed out and leave sakura dry (also me) while she films with her extensive camera collection? (me me me me)
pairings: miyawaki sakura + kim chaewon x f! reader
warnings: g!p + threesome + creampies + overstimulation + mommy kink + dacryphilia + oral + anal
💌: nonie baby you have the sexiest brain ever im so obsessed with this 😵💫 did my own lil spin on this but i hope you still enjoy !
sakura’s not an idiot. she knows about chaewon’s infatuation with her girlfriend and how the younger girl fantasizes about fucking you til she’s sure you’re knocked up.
she informs you of chaewon’s fantasies when she’s ballsdeep in your cunt and the thought of her joining you and kkura in bed makes your pussy clench, warm walls squeezing your girlfriend’s cunt. “oh, you like the sound of that, baby? is my cock not enough for your slutty pussy, hm?” her words cause your eyes to roll and your mouth to fall open in a silent moan, fucking yourself back on her dick.
after pumping you full of cum she pulls out and uses her fingers to spread your pussy open, obsessed with the sight of her semen dripping from your sloppy hole.
sakura tells chaewon that the two of you would be more than happy for her to join this once and she agrees immediately, cock hardening as she imagines how well you’d take her cock. the two of them make their way to your apartment where you’re already waiting, pussy wet and waiting to be fucked.
after they make their way inside, sakura greets you with a soft kiss before you pounce on chaewon, pulling her into bed with you and straddling her. “can’t wait to feel you inside me, chae.” you tell her, hands working on unbuttoning her shorts. she grunts softly at your words, mind hazy because she’s been waiting for this day for so long and now that it’s here she can’t believe it.
your pussy is drenched, making it easy for her length to slide in completely. “fuck you feel good” she sighs. you don’t allow her to get used to the feeling of you walls gripping her cock and start to bounce on her dick immediately. sakura doesn’t say a word, allowing you to use her friend for your pleasure until it’s her turn.
your cunt feels incredible and chaewon nearly blows her load seconds into you riding her. “don’t move.” she pleads, her words are choppy, teeth clenched as her hands grip your waist in an effort to stop your movements. “‘s okay wonnie,” you purr, pussy tightening around her, “cum inside me, sweetheart. want kkura to watch you fill me up.” your words send her over the edge, cock twitching as her cum shoots inside you, thick ropes painting your walls white as you cream around her. one load isn’t enough and you continue grinding against her, overstimulation drawing whimpers from the poor girl as she orgasms again, filling you to the brim, some of it even leaking out and dripping down her balls.
sakura decides to step in when chaewon begins to cry softly, “did you forget about me, princess?” she teases. your girlfriend pats your thigh twice and you know she wants you on your knees at the foot of the bed.
you obey immediately, allowing her to sit on the edge before making your way between her legs, grabbing her impossibly hard cock and slipping it in your mouth. “that’s my girl,” she praises, “always know jus’ what mommy wants, isnt that right?”
desperate moans and mhm’s are your only reply, not wanting to part with her cock and sakura thinks your mouth is heavenly, already close to blowing her load. her hands pull you off, a pout adorning your lips because you weren’t expecting her to deny you a taste.
“don’t pout, princess. wanna cum in your pussy, not your mouth.” her explanation has you scrambling to your feet and seating yourself on her lap, cunt dripping a mixture of yours and chaewon’s cum on sakura’s length.
she slips inside and it makes you moan, her cock is so thick it always stretches your hole so well. you’re insatiable, moaning like a pornstar as she toys with your clit, wanting you to cum first. everything becomes too much and your orgasm hits you without warning, unable to voice it to your girlfriend.
“i know, baby, i know.” her voice is laced with affection, thrusting slowly as she fills you up with cum.
when sakura cleans you up, chaewon watches you with adoration and all she can think about is how you took their cocks like a champ, wanting nothing more than to pound your cunt while kkura fucks your asshole next time.
#i hope this is good bc i TRIED#idk how good i am at writing threesomes 😵💫#♡.signed. sealed. delivered.#♡.the honeypot#le sserafim#kim chaewon#miyawaki sakura#le sserafim x reader#le sserafim smut#kim chaewon x reader#kim chaewon smut#miyawaki sakura x reader#miyawaki sakura smut#💌.g!p#💌.creampies#💌.overstimulation#💌.mommy kink#💌.oral#💌.dacryphilia#💌.anal
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just a small cut
bf riki x gf reader
warnings- reader is said to cut themself :( skip if uncomfy, kisses, hugs, lmk what else
two things, im about 2 weeks clean from sh !! and its mybfs bdayyyy!! im so excited to continue the journey w my baeee
two weeks ago you found yourself on the bathroom floor of your shared apartment, crying. a shard of sharp glass dragged against your skin, creating little slits.
a week later, niki noticed the scar on your arms, 'when did you do this?' "last week" tears filled your eyes, you hurt yourself two weeks prior to his birthday, why, just to draw attention? he didnt care, he cared about your safety
he made you feel loved even when you were down and always made sure you knew he loved you. the day before his birthday came and you went to the store while he was at dance practice.
you went immediately to the craft store and bought some colorful markers and some of that brown craft paper. you bought some cake mix, frosting, sprinkles, and a box for his gift. the next morning you made some breakfast, after sneaking away from the sleepy birthday boy.
he showed up in the kitchen to find the brown craft paper rolled on the table and markers in a mason jar. you set his gift in the middle and placed a letter on top. not noticing your boyfriend walking in the room, you continued cooking. he hugged you, taking you by surprise, and acted like he didnt see the small box.
'happy birthday baby!' you said with excitement. 'thank you'
'here, sit down and eat so you can open your gift.'
he did as you told him to, he sat down, he ate his food and put his plate away. he opened his gift and a polaroid taken this morning of his family.
'whats this?' he asked 'why dont you come with me and see'
you led him by the hand to the door, told him to close his eyes, and signaled for people to come in.
'open!' he stood for s second and recognized his family, his hands rose up to his face 'well, go say hi to them'
he walked to his parents hugging them, with tear rolling down his face. he hugged his sisters next. a few hours later, a movie played and you were in the kitchen prepping a bowl with snacks.
you wanted to make the boys day special, and you did
neway first part is kind of irrelevant but i mean, why not
HAPPY BIRTHDAY NIKIIIIII, I LOVE HIM SO MUCH AND I HOPE HE HAS A GOOD BIRTHDAY
#mia !!#im-yn-suckers#happy niki day#enhypen fanfiction#enhypen fluff#niki fanfic#niki x reader#nishimura riki#enhypen niki#nishimura niki x reader#niki ff#niki scenarios#enha niki#ni ki#ni ki fluff#niki#niki blurbs#niki fluff#niki imagines#niki smau#niki x y/n#nishimura niki#niki x you#enhypen
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