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tteokdoroki · 4 months

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☆༉ — RYOMEN SUKUNA. santa’s little helper.

about. dressing up as slutty santa warrants some unwanted attention, luckily, sukuna is there to play santa’s grumpy little helper. merry christmas.

warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact! sfw, fluff, meet cute, reader gets harassed/cat-called, reader is wearing a dress, modern!sukuna, fem!reader. it’s still christmas somewhere - enjoy !! (1K).

you meet modern bf!sukuna at a train station on christmas eve.

all your friends have gone home with guys that they fancied from the club, all the ubers in the area are either booked out or have sky high prices just to get you thirty minutes away not to mention the fact that it’s ice cold and your stupid mean girls themed santa outfit keeps riding up.

if you huff hard enough a cloud of smoke appears in place of your breath — like that of a mighty dragon, accumulating in the night air. it entertains you for all but a moment and doesn’t waste enough time for your train to come faster.

it’s not due for another thirteen minutes.

in that time you watch gangs of girls, groups of guys and just about anybody come and go from the station. your platform isn’t packed but it’s not too empty to the point where you feel unsafe.

“hey pretty girl.” ugh. as if your night couldn’t get any worse, a dingy looking stranger appears from nowhere — breathing down your neck, nastily drinking you in as if you’re a free shot at a bar. like you’re easy.

waving your hand away, you focus your gaze on the platform across the track and pray that someone notices your predicament. “no thank you.”

“oh come on gorgeous, give a guy a chance!” they press, crossing all of your boundaries to be in your space. even as you try to walk away, you can still feel the ghost of their sleazy words against the bare and exposed parts of your skin.. “where are you going all dressed like that, with no one to admire you?”

on instinct, you pull down your skirts as if to hide yourself from greedy eyes — storming down the platform. “none of your business!”

“hey now, little miss santa! don’t you wanna know? i’ve got a sleigh you can ride!”

“not interested! i’m all good.”

“why? you got a boyfriend?”

“yeah, i do.” you lie smoothly.

“then where is he?” the stranger mocks and closes in on you — you look around pathetically, waiting for some good passer-by to come and help you.

a heavy hand land’s on the stranger’s shoulder — making them jump in shock. you watch as the hand squeezes down, almost tight enough to break bone. “right here,” says a gravelly, husky voice that instantly fills you with warmth and relief. stepping aside, your hero reveals himself — tall with rippling muscles and spiralling black tattoos, lazy blood red eyes and a snarl that reveals sharp fangs and canines. all topped off my tufts of soft pink hair, which don’t do anything to dim his threatening aura. “you got a problem?”

“n-no! sorry man, i didn’t—“

“fuck off, will ya?” your hero spits out venomously and the stranger nods — practically disappearing into thin air after that. your shoulders sag and tensions dissipate from your body. “you okay…miss?”

tentatively, you give the pink-haired man your name — you owe him that much after he’d more or less saved your skin. “all good, thanks to you…”

“sukuna.” he doesn’t look at you, instead pulling a pack of cigarettes from his back pocket and lighting one with a flicker of a flame. it’s like he feels you watching him in dismay, and laughs as he takes a drag. it’s kind of sexy, you’ll admit — the way he throws his head back let’s you see the thick lines of black ink extending down his neck. “ticket office is closed and security is shit here. small station. no one’s watching me smoke.”

“right…thanks, sukuna.”

he finally turns to you, deep and blood red eyes drinking you in — almost scrutinising you. you squirm under his gaze, heat prickling at the back of your neck and providing some protection from the cold. “where were you off too?”

“christmas party with some friends.”

“where are they now?”

“sucking face somewhere, and no, they didn’t offer me an Uber before they left.”

sukuna taps the ash from his cigarette and it falls away in the icy breeze. “shit night.”

wringing your fingers, you shrug a little bit. “i guess it could have been worse. so thank you for helping out,” you hum appreciatively. “all i have to do now is wait for this stupid train.”

a beat of silence passes between you both, only broken by your chattering teeth and sukuna’s occasional sniff between puffs of smoke. you hate smokers, but you don’t ask him to stop. not after he’d helped you and is willing to be your human shield until your train comes. anyone else would have left by now.

“i can give you a ride home, if you want?”

you frown… was he, trying to make a move on you?

“if you have a car why are you at a train station.”

sukuna smirks slowly, dropping his cig to the floor and crushing it under his sneaker. you don’t remind him that there’s a law against smoking on the platform. “i’m waiting for my little brother to get home from a trip with his friends. we don’t live too far from here and i offered to pick him up from the station.” he shrugs.

you blink up at him with wide eyes. you’d never imagine a man that looks and carries himself like he does to care so deeply for someone else. you suppose you’re judging a book by his cover.

you’re dressed like slutty santa, so you honestly have no right to do so.

“what’s your brother’s name?”

“yuuji. it’s just us, no parents. that’s why i’m picking him up.” sukuna turns to you, running a hand through his messy pink undercut. “look, i promise i’m not some creep. y’just look cold and i’m not about to let some girl get fucked over by weirdos at this time of night. i won’t touch you, but you can sit in the back with yuuji if it makes you feel better. people usually prefer his stupid face over mine anyways.” he mumbles that last part to himself, but is pleasantly surprised by the cute flutter of laughter that escapes you. “what’s s’funny?”

with a hand resting on your bare stomach, you try to contain yourself. “is it the tattoos or the fact that you have resting bitch face?”

“both.” sukuna sniggers in response, shoving his cold hands deep into his pockets. “so, you takin’ up the offer or what?”

“yeah, thank you…sukuna,” you smile, subtly sliding up beside him for warmth on the chilly platform. “i’d like to meet yuuji for myself, see which brother i prefer.”

“oh fuck you.”

“maybe some other time.”

and even though he’s sure that you’re joking, sukuna detects a glint of honestly in your sparkling eyes as the train finally approaches — it’s yellowing light from inside the carriage only illuminating that spark. you turn your head, trying to spot yuuji while he ponders your words.

sukuna is definitely going to ask for your number after he drops you home. he’ll have to thank that brat of a baby brother yuuji for the opportunity next — without him begging for sukuna to come get him, this would have never happened.

you would have never met.

it’d be a great christmas story to tell the grandkids too. so he’d really have to thank yuuji, even though sukuna would never hear the end of it.

#sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk fluff #jjk smut #sukuna ryomen x reader #sukuna ryomen x you #sukuna imagine #tteokdoroki #✧ ₊˚੭ — writing #angelshubnetwork #ghostqueues

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bonny-kookoo · 7 months

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Jungkook

𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐂𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐲 🍒

Sometimes love doesn't make sense.

Tags/Warnings: Tattoo artist/Piercer Jungkook, Pastel!Reader, opposites attract, Strangers to lovers, Fluff, suggestive flirting, adult themes but no smut, consensual hand holding

Length: ~4k

There is no taglist for this fic.

Masterlist

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"Uhm-" you wonder, stepping inside the store to be greeted by the guy you know as Jimin.

"Hi, my friend has an appointment?" you say, and the artist stands up and walks closer. Your friend stays close to you, buzzing with the excitement of getting her first tattoo ever- too shy to say anything.

When it comes to that, you're a little ahead of her. As long as the person isn't intimidating, you're fine talking to them, asking for help or anything alike.

"Yeah, it was the dragon on her back, right?" and your friend nods. "I've got it all prepared already. Wanna come downstairs with me, I'll explain the rest of it there?" Jimin kindly says, taking her coat and leading her downstairs where you assume everyone works. "Oh, you can just wait in the back there, or stroll around town. It'll take a while." he says, and you nod, a bit unsure now after being left alone.

"Hm?" a voice chimes up, before he speaks again. "Oh, Thought I heard something." the guy comes into view, and suddenly you can't talk.

This is what you can't talk to.

Intimidating? Heavy boots and black clothes, silver chains and piercings and a fully inked sleeve including his hand present themselves to you, muscles free since he's only wearing a black sleeveless top that should be illegal for him to wear. His smile is the friendliest you've ever seen, reaching his eyes and his slightly wild hair just makes him look even better, sides buzzed down to mere millimeters left- you want to disappear from the earth and his memory forever.

Fuck. He's looking like every goth-girl's wet dream while you're dressed in a pastel colored dress and thick knee high socks to keep your feet warm in this cold weather. Great.

"You can sit here in the back with me, otherwise you'll catch a cold from all the cold air blowing in every time the door opens." he recommends, pointing to a couch in a corner that you assume is where they all spend their breaks. Awesome, he's a gentleman as well it seems, making it all even worse for you. "You want something to drink? I've got tea or coffee." he wonders, and you meekly press out a 'tea, please.', making him chuckle.

He probably thinks you're nothing more than a child, with the way you look so out of place.

You envy your friend in that department. She's got piercings, she knows cool friends, she has exciting stories to tell. Meanwhile you sit at home and knit sweaters and blankets, help out at the local animal shelter because you get to pet the cats and dogs all day, or work at the library where you aid tourists find the town's guide.

"Your friend was the tall girl, right?" he asks, coming in with two cups, one of which he sets down on front of you. "I'm Jungkook by the way." he introduces himself, smiling before he leans back in his seat. Of course he's interested in her, you think. She's exactly his type, though he looks quite a few years older than her.

Well- the least you can do is help her find a date.

"Ah, yeah, she's my friend. Best friend." you say, pulling the cup of tea closer. "Thank you, for the tea." you say politely, and he grins in front of you.

"No problem." he waves off.

"She's uh.. She works at a car-uh.. She does those paint jobs. Like, those complicated one's that look realistic and all that." you try and explain. "I.. Forgot what it's called though. But uhm.. You can ask her later maybe?" you say, and he shrugs, setting down his cup before he smirks impishly, tongue playing with his lip ring in a manner that you can only describe as illegal.

"I probably could do that-" he starts, before he tilts his head a little to the side, body leaning forward. "-but I'd rather get to know you a little more." he wonders, and you almost choke on your tea- but you're composing yourself. "Maybe I could start by asking if you've got a boyfriend?"

Well, so much for composing yourself.

Your wide eyes look at him scandalized, and he giggles at the sight of it. "I- uh, no, I mean no I don't have one, to be honest-" you laugh a bit nervously. "-guys don't.. I- most guys don't really look my way, you know. So I thought, you know, considering-" you motion up and down towards him, "-you'd be more interested in my friend." you ramble, and he just shakes his head, smiling.

"I mean, she seems nice- but, I don't know either." he shrugs. "Something about you- it's hard to explain."

You shift a little on the spot now, unsure what to do in a situation like this. Typically, you shut down guys quickly, scared of what's to come. But you also don't want to keep doing exactly that- not when you've got the chance of something right in front of you like that. For the first time, someone's actively interested in you. Someone who seems nice, that is.

"I don't want to make you uncomfortable, by the way." Jungkook suddenly rips out of your thoughts. He leans back again, giving you space, and it makes you feel a little deflated. Did you blow it already? Oh god you screwed it over, didn't you?

"No, you're not, don't worry." you say, looking down. "I just.. I'm not used to this. I'm usually always the wingman instead- or.. Wing-woman?" you think, and he laughs.

"Hard to believe, but I'll take your word for it." he says, still friendly. "So, I'm wondering- any tattoos? Piercings?" he wonders, and you nod- instantly making his eyes sparkle in interest. "Oh- can I ask what it is, or do you want to let me find out later?" he says, and you instantly turn red, making him laugh. "Sorry, sorry- I'll stop, promise." he waves off. "..for now."

You laugh at his antics, unable to keep a straight face by now. "You seem like you know your way around with girls." you say without thinking, before you hurriedly correct yourself. "I-I mean I don't mean that your like, a fuckboy or something or- maybe you are that's fine too! I don't judge but- oh god.." you put your head in your hand. "You know what? I'll just wait here for her, I'm so sorry." you mumble more or less.

But much to your surprise, he simply laughs, head thrown back for a second before he grins at you, front teeth slightly protruding, giving him a bunny smile.

"You're so cute, I swear." he says, shaking his head. "I- is it okay if I ask for your number?" he wonders, and you look at him for a good moment, squinting your eyes as if you test to see if he's serious.

"I.. Sure..?" you say, pulling out your phone with all the different charms attached. He grins and shakes his head amused, though clearly excited as you type in your number into his phone before calling yourself to make sure it's correct.

"So!" he grins. "Since your friend is gonna still be out of order for a good four hours downstairs," Jungkook stands up to hold out his hand. "You up for some boba for our first date?" he asks, looking down at you even though you're standing as well by now.

And you nod, walking next to him through the slight October fog outside in town, his hand warming up yours.

You don't even realize how.. easy it feels, right away. His hand holding yours is not demanding, giving you the option to let go at any point, but you don't mind holding it. It's warm, comfortable, and it also makes you wonder if that's something he enjoys. Did he date a lot already? He certainly looks like he got the choice, girls probably falling for him fairly easily.

Well.. you're already trusting him too. How ironic.

"Just tell me which one you want, I'll go order." he says later, holding out a hand in case you lose balance as you clean off the rain from your boots as to not bring it all into the small store. "I'll pay too by the way, no but's!" he grins, while you look up at him with a pleading look.

"No, I'll give you the money back for mine." you say.

"But then it's not a date!" he argues back, a whine in his voice as if to mock the way you just spoke to him. "then it's just- two people getting a drink at the same time."

"what's so bad about that?" you laugh, crossing your arms without thinking- an action he playfully copies, pushing out his chest, fabric of his jacket stretching over his biceps.

"That it's not a date!" he says, before laughing as he relaxes, talking more quietly now with a lower, more serious tone. "Alright, in all seriousness though, I'd still like to pay even if there's no date." he tells you.

"I- no, a date is fine, it can be a date.." you say. "I just don't want to.. Come off as a leech for taking your money if you end up not liking me-" you ramble, and he smiles warmly, holding your shoulders before his warm palms touch your cheeks for a second.

"You're overthinking too much." he giggles, before letting go of you. "right now, I like you very much. And even if we don't end up working out, I'm not that kind of guy to go around and talk shit about people." he shrugs.

You sigh at that, before pointing towards an item on the menu. "..can you- I don't like that much ice in mine.?" you say, and he nods, before walking towards the worker to order.

He's oddly okay with you, you've noticed.

Normally, people and especially guys get frustrated easily due to the fact that you've got trouble deciding things, or that you don't like ordering, or that you quickly feel bad because your brain thinks the worst about every single word that's said to you. But he seems nice enough, doesn't come off as annoyed or anything. Despite his way of talking and his outer appearance, Jungkook feels nice to have around.

You wonder how a guy like him can be single.

Or maybe he isnt? Maybe he's into the BDSM scene, a swinger, or in an open relationship, and he just want to offer you a threesome? He looks like he might be into that stuff, like a dominant guy that enjoys taking control over his partner in the bedroom. Does he tie people up? You've seen stuff like that before, and it's not something you'd be opposed to if he'd be the one to-

Wow, alright, exit was three miles ago.

"Everything alright?" he chuckles, snapping you out of your thoughts, amusing him as he notices the way you turn red. "Been staring at my ass? Can't blame you, honestly." he jokes, making you hit his shoulder playfully before you take your plastic cup from him. "Hey, this might sound super shady and you don't have to say yes-" he starts, stepping out the small store with you where it had started to snow again. "-but I've got my apartment a few minutes from here, and it's freezing cold, so-" he takes your hand and looks down at you. "-you wanna go to my place?"

You're nervous now, more than ever. Thoughts are entertaining, they're safe and most of all yours and not real, but the prospect of potentially going into an apartment you don't know, with a guy you don't know, is scary. What if he's actually a serial killer, or really into BDSM and you'll get involved in some shady fifty shades stuff-

"-you really don't have to say yes. We can just go back to the Tattoo shop and talk there, I don't mind." he reassures, and you still don't answer. "What's worrying you? Maybe I can help."

"I-" you start, unsure, and fingers already hurting from the cold cup as you both walk outside the small store, walking side by side. You enjoy this a bit more- without holding his hand, you feel safer having a discussion like that. "-you know, guys only take girls to their place for.. Stuff, and I'm not like that, but I also kind of want to be but at the same time it's scary-"

"Hey, no, I'm not out for blood if you mean that." he chuckles, holding out his arm to make sure you wait until a car has passed the road you're both trying to cross. "Like, I'm not gonna lie and say I've never had one-night-stands or quickies or whatever, but right now I'm interested in you, first and foremost." he explains, his rather blunt words causing an elderly lady to turn her head scandalized as she walks past. "Also, I'm into begging. I'll only fuck you if you ask nicely." he smirks down at you next to him, before laughing out loud at your wide eyes and red ears.

"I-" you struggle to form words. But you're also horribly cold. "Alright then. I mean not the fucking part, at least not right now maybe sometime in the fut- where was your apartment again?" you stutter, and he grins so hard his eyes almost close.

"You're so fucking cute, my god." he shakes his head, before taking your hand again. "It's right down this road." he simply tells you, before you both find yourself in front of an apartment building where he takes you upstairs to his door. "Ah, I didn't clean up, by the way. It's a bit chaotic." he sheepishly offers, before the door opens.

It's warm, inviting. Doesn't smell bad, and it's not as chaotic as he told you it would be, Jungkook walking inside before you walk around, inspecting the apartment.

"I've put your boots in my shower, in case you're wondering where they are." he says after emerging from his bathroom, opening a window a little to air out the apartment. "make yourself at home, don't be so stiff." he chuckles, smiling when you visibly relax.

He sits close to you on the couch, but keeps a respectful distance between the two of you. He watches as you inspect a hole in a blanket he's got on the couch, shrugging. "My friend has a dog. Small little shit tore a hole in there, but it's still good so I keep the blanket."

"It's an easy fix." you say. "If you take those two parts of the yarn and then those, you can just tie them together so it doesn't rip open any further." you explain, and he tilts his head a little.

"Oh? Do you knit?" he wonders, and you nod.

"I.. My hobbies are kind of lame. I knit, and I help at the shelter a little away from the town. Other than that, I just.. Kind of exist in my apartment." you tell him. "I work at a library near the main train station. So, I'm not really interesting." you say, while he shakes his head.

"Don't say that. I think that's all pretty cool." he reassures. "Sounds like you've made a cozy life for yourself. That's pretty impressive considering today's times." he says. "I've always been.. Unsatisfied. With almost everything." he shrugs, leaning back, socked feet resting on the edge of his couch you're both sitting on.

"How so?" you wonder, taking a sip from your drink, before putting it back onto the small table.

"I don't know." he explains vaguely. "I guess I always had way too big dreams and aspirations. And now that I'm at that age I back then wanted to be, I feel like I wasted all my time with nothing but short-lived successes and people who only wanted me for the moment."

"Kind of.. Reminds me of myself." you giggle. "I.. When I was young, even a teenager, I always said I won't have kids. But these days, I kind of think, in the future I want them. Not right now, but one day. I wanna have a family and stuff, live in a house and have a dog and a cat and a husband and all that." you giggle. "like I said, not right now- but in the future."

"Hmhm. I never wanted to marry either. Thought that's just bullshit." he says. "But now, after seeing some of my friends have that, I'm envious. I want that too. A partner for life, I mean. A boring life." he says.

You hum a reply, nodding to yourself, a bit of quietness falling over the both of you, before he moves again, sitting down more comfortably turned towards you.

"I.. Would really like to get to know you. Seriously, I mean." he starts explaining. "Like I said, I.. Don't know what it is exactly, but you're.. Fuck you make me all weird." he laughs. "I wanna stay in contact with you, if you'd like. We could watch a movie? Only Netflix, no deep-throating during commercial breaks, promise!" he jokes, before adding, "..except if you're up for it." he giggles when you hide your face for a good second, laughing.

"I don't even know how to do that!" you laugh, making him raise his eyebrows while playing with his lip ring.

"Oh I can teach you, don't worry about that." he teases.

"I'm sure you can.." you mumble more or less, sipping on your drink. But your sentence seems to make him curious, eyes gaining a challenging glimmer as he leans forward.

"No no no, let's rewind a bit there." he says. "Just so I know where I'm at. You a virgin?" he wonders, and you pull your legs closer to yourself.

"..no." you shrug. "But.. I highly doubt I'm as adventurous as you." you tell him, making Jungkook smirk a little, as if challenged.

"Are you? What do you think I'm into then?" he wonders. "I've got a feeling you've made up your mind about me more than I thought."

"I mean, I don't know?" you say. "You.. It's not that hard to have more experience than me. I only had sex like.. Twice, and it's honestly not really for me." you shrug. "it's weird to.. Ugh I don't know."

"No, you do know, you just don't want to say it out loud." he clears up for you, making you nod. "Did you ever have an orgasm?"

"Jungkook!" you bark out scandalized, making him raise his hands in playful defense.

"What? You gotta ask these days, men are shit in bed most of the time, I have to admit that!" he laughs, shamelessly talking about this as if it's nothing but the weather outside. "So? Did you?" he wonders, and you shrug. "So you didn't?"

"I- don't know!" you say, a little glad you can finally talk to someone about it, hesitation finally breaking as you get the chance to make your frustration some room. "It's different when I do it myself. Like, then I'm pretty sure I have one? But when I had sex it was different, like I was almost kind of there but also not.." you lean your head on the backrest of his couch.

"Sounds like you didn't then." he tells you. "See, there's women out there who can't cum from penetration at all. The key ingredient is being fucking attentive." he explains. "I got more than just my dick, is what I'm trying to tell." he says, wiggling his fingers in front of his face, several rings adoring some of them- and you laugh.

"You sound like you're trying to get me to have sex with you right now." you joke, but he just shrugs his shoulders, tongue poking against his cheek for a moment.

"I'd fuck you any day you'd let me." he simply answers, eyes on yours. "After all, I gotta check out those tattoos you said you have." he flirts, and you move around a little, air between you both getting thicker. At this point, you can't deny the attraction. And with the way he talks and treats you, you're sure you'd let him prove his point as well. Right now. No regrets.

He notices the way your eyes fall to his lips, getting attached at the silver piercings there for a good moment, before you find his warm eyes again. And even though he really did not intent to be so forward so fast, he still scoots closer, tests the waters, places his arms on either side of you before the tip of his nose almost touches yours.

"Been wondering for a while now.." he starts, licking his lips before he looks down to yours, face tilting a bit as he looks at you. "..what flavor that lipgloss might be." he jokes, before he can't help himself.

You've not been kissed often in your life, not even in relationships. But you know for a fact that there's no experience comparable to the way he kisses you- not only his lips, but also his hands craving you it seems, making you feel completely under his spell. He's not just kissing you with his lips. He's using his hands, his tongue, knows clearly how to create a moment.

Your phone rings.

His rings soon after.

He laughs- and so do you.

It's a little awkward for a second, before he sends a message informing his coworker that you're on your way back, his grin still evident, never vanishing it seems. "so..?" you wonder having stood up to go grab your coat.

"So?" he parrots back, standing up as well to walk closer to you.

"What flavor is it?" you shyly try and flirt, and he laughs, leaning down to kiss you again, just a peck, and another, and just one last one before he parts with laughter.

"I'd say cherry-" he grins, watching you tie your boots in his hallway before he cages you in at his front door again the second you stand back up, unable to resist you now that you gave him the chance to taste you.

"But let me make sure I got it right."

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagine #bts jungkook imagine #jungkook x reader #bts jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook fanfic

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coryosbaby · 10 days

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18+, MDNI !! ♡

༉‧₊˚. Rafe Cameron x fem! Reader

Thinkin’ of Rafe Cameron + trailer park! Au <3 being his neighbor and also Barry’s younger sister, Rafe always giving you long glances and licking his lips whenever his eyes land on your cute little sundresses or tight jean shorts. Letting you have a smoke break with him because Barry doesn’t allow you to have cigarettes— he holds the lighter up and lights it for you every time. Slipping you a bottle of alcohol, inviting you into his empty trailer and letting you sprawl out on his bed as you pass it back and forth.

“Truth or dare?” He asks, and the game goes on for a good twenty minutes before you answer dare. Rafe’s eyes stare down at your pouty mouth, a small smile on his own as he says, “I dare you to kiss me.”

Your eyes widen, a blush creeping up your neck. A grin spreads out on Rafe’s handsome face, his hand moving up to your cheek. He rubs your lip with his thumb, spreading out the glossy red lipstick you had applied a few hours prior.

“Cmon,” he presses. “‘s part of the game, Kitty cat. Jus’ a little peck.”

You’re blushing still, a little drunk— when he had begun to call you that? Never before now, but you like it— you like it a lot.

You set the bottle of vodka down beside the bed and scoot closer to him. He smells like cologne and soap, and stubble is on his face from a forgotten shave. You look down at his hands, just for a moment. One is on his crotch, a small star tattoo on his middle finger etched in black ink. Your eyes flick back up to his lips, and you lean in.

Your plush lips hit his and it’s like the air in the room shifts. Rafe lets out a relaxed sigh, pretty lashes fluttering shut as he hungrily moves against your mouth. Your fingers card through his messy bangs, pushing them back from his forehead. Heat grows between your legs, a small ache beginning to form when rafe’s hand moves lower and lower until it reaches your hip. He grips the soft skin there, gently squeezing. You let out a whine, little tongue lolling out of your mouth to slip into his own. He groans against you, spreading his legs so you can crawl in between them. He pulls away from the kiss, letting you lean back against his chest. Your lipstick is smeared onto his mouth and the sight makes you dizzy.

“horny, kiddo? I’ve barely touched you.”

You don’t say anything. Letting out a tiny mewl, your hand grasping his and guiding it underneath the hem of your dress. Little pussy so wet and throbbing that rafe can’t help but drool over it :(( his fingers circling your clit through your cotton panties, his other arm wrapping around your throat so he can adjust you just how he likes. Your thighs spread and you lift them up, letting him see the outline of your plump pussy more. His fingers slide underneath your panties, finally coming into contact with your aching sex.

“Shit, such a wet little pussy..” and then, slipping a finger inside your hole, “and so tight, momma. You a virgin?”

You nod, a pout on your lips. He grins, slowly massaging your walls with the pad of his middle finger.

“Baby’s never had her kitty cat touched, huh?”

“Rafe..” you mewl, and he tsks.

“Don’t think that’s what you wanna be callin’ me,” his movements speed up, your eyes beginning to roll as he squeezes in his ring finger alongside the other. “Daddy might be a better fit, yeah?”

A gasp tumbles out of your throat, thighs shaking.

“Yes,” It’s an instant reply. “Yes, yes, daddy. Please..”

He chuckles at your eagerness, pressing a kiss into your hair.

“Good girl. Pull those panties to the side, baby, let me see.”

You can’t disobey him, and so your fingers hook into the crotch of your gingham cotton panties and you slide the fabric to the side. Your cunt glistens with sweet slick, swollen clit poking out due to your arousal.

“Oh,” Rafe breathes, almost in a trance. “Such a pretty girl..”

He rubs against that spongey spot inside you— or, more so, stabs that spongey spot inside of you, his fingers scissoring apart your achy cunt ‘n making it burn while also giving you the most delicious friction. It’s fast, a little animalistic, and you love it. Sobs tear through your throat, the only form of purchase for your hands being Rafe’s big, muscled thighs, your head sinking deeper and deeper into his shoulder with every course of pleasure. A third finger makes its way inside your cunt, your eyes widening as big as saucers. Rafe’s got a smile on his face and a glint in his eyes.

“We’re gonna stretch you nice ‘n good, kitty cat,” and then, watching your slick drip and your hole widen for him, “That’s it, look at daddy fingerin’ this little slut cunt open. We’re gonna have some fun tonight, aren’t we, baby?”

@mysticpenguincreation @nightmare-niko @iheartinkonpaper @claireyberryy @becauseseaotters @emmalandry @princesstiti14 @aerangi @kaithoughs @jamespotterismydaddy @wildgirllz

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upsidedownwithsteve · 8 months

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CH10. Cheque, Please! | The Menu [2.2K] Eddie Munson x shy fem!reader: a line cook au.

ONE YEAR LATER

The diner was packed.

Tables were full, the large room a buzz of chatter and music, the speakers playing an old sixties bop. It was a familiar sight, one that happened more often than not since Jim sold the diner. The new owner ripped the place apart, down to its old bones before he put his life savings into it.

New floors, new tables and chairs, artwork on the walls that were signed by Argyle, a photo of the whole staff taken and framed by Jonathan, Jim Hopper at the forefront, a wide smile on his face on the last day before his retirement. The bulbs in the neon sign outside had been replaced so it no longer flickered, the green and blue glow of it now announcing the diner’s new name, proud and bright for everyone to see.

Eddie’s Slice Of Chicago.

“Door! Behind!” You yelled out as you entered the kitchen empty plates piled high in your arms and Jonathan took them from you with practised ease.

Steve was on the grill, still hesitant and not as fast as Argyle, but he was flipping burgers quicker than he had last week. His chef whites were brand new, his name badge shiny and his front of house position taken over by Nancy. Everyone was in new uniforms, freshly pressed and a sage green, aprons still without stains and a pocketful of pens that didn’t run out of ink too quickly. Robin was taking orders, laughing with a family from out of town, letting their toddler grab at her finger as she promised them to return soon with their pizzas and shakes. Dustin was helping Max run a large order to a table of backpackers, a border collie under the table at their feet, getting its ears scratched by the new start, Mike.

There was a sign on the staff notice board, up beside the employee of the month, a piece of ripped paper with the words “SIXTY FOUR DAYS SINCE THE LAST FREEZER BREAKDOWN.” The rest of the space was filled with staff photos, polaroids and prints of the group at a fourth of July picnic, a barbecue at Jim’s in the summer, huddled around the kitchens countertops in the winter, drinking from mugs filled with Argyle’s homemade horchata, the frame that held Billy’s scrawled termination letter, an old napkin that held a small conversation in pen.

It felt more like home than ever. Even when Eddie wasn’t there.

Everyone answered to you in his absence, unofficially in charge when the boss wasn’t here. It had taken some getting used to, hell, you’d even tried to pawn off the responsibility to Nancy, or Steve, anyone who’d been at the grill longer than you had. But Nancy was part time, back at college during the week, taking Robin on dates in the evenings and Steve was too busy being trained as a new prep chef to worry about invoices and deliveries.

So you stepped into the role cautiously, softening to the idea when Eddie kissed you something fierce and told you that there wasn’t anyone else he trusted to do the job. His acceptance letter had come the month after taking over the diner. A thick, white envelope that lay heavy on your doormat because he’d finally moved in, sharing your small apartment with you like he did everything else.

Clothes. Jewellery. Books. Records. Food. Kisses.

Vincennes University offered Eddie the chance to do what he hadn’t been able to before. Refining his craft, learning new skills, working in a state of the art kitchen with equipment he’d come home and gush to you about. The diner was doing well enough that tuition wasn’t a worry anymore and suddenly, the long commute into Indianapolis for classes four days a week seemed worth it. Eddie was passing with flying colours, receiving accolades and opportunities at every given moment and when he came home, exhausted but happy, he came home to you.

Bone tired, he’d slip into the apartment, socked feet padding gently over the floorboards, Tupperware full of something delicious to be stacked in the fridge. He’d find you curled up somewhere, a black cat called Basil in the nook of your bent legs. He’d kiss you sweet, he’d kiss you soft, warming you up to a simmer until you forgot how much you’d missed him that day.

It was all worth it.

“Table eighteen wants extra hash browns and booth six needs two pepperoni’s and the Hawkins special, chefs,” you called to Steve as you slapped the orders onto the bar.

“Got it,” Steve and Argyle called back, one a little more nervously than the other but it was okay, ‘cause Eddie was home soon.

Eddie was home soon.

He’d called from a pay phone outside of the school, voice buzzing with excitement, with pride, and yours mirrored his back. He’d be on the train soon, he’d meet you at the apartment, if you could get away early. So you handed your keys to Nancy and she grinned, knowing there was a cause for celebration waiting at home for you. You drove Eddie’s van back along the road, coming into town on the familiar stretch, passing Wayne’s, the trailer park you both visited every Sunday for dinner.

The apartment door was unlocked, dimly lit in the early fall gloom, already smelling like garlic and tomatoes, like fresh bread and the scent of Eddie cologne that lingered on his jacket that hung in the hallway. Eddie’s records were in the shelves by your books, his guitar hanging from a hook in the tiny office room, his shoes on the bench by the door. He’d transformed your kitchen when he’d moved in, a decision that had been all too easy to make. There were pots and pans hanging from the rack, shiny, sharp knives that he was scared of you using without him there, jars and tubs of ingredients stacked high in the fridge and the pantry. There were fresh herbs in planters on the window sill. The radio always played.

The kitchen always felt like the heart of the home.

That’s where you found Eddie, sweater sleeves rolled up and grinning at you from the stove top, a large spoon in hand as he mixed in some fresh rosemary to the pot of sauce. He greeted you with a glass of wine, the cheap stuff that you liked best, catching you in a kiss before you could bring the cup to your lips.

He kissed you soft, kissed you sweet, humming when you laughed into his mouth, his free hand slipping inside of your shirt to ghost his fingers over your ribs.

“Hi,” you whispered. You’d never tire of this. This warmth, this kind of greeting, this feeling of coming home. “Good day?”

Eddie nodded, stealing another kiss, catching the corner of your mouth. He gazed at you, eyes shining with excitement and you could practically feel the buzz in his bones for what he was about to say.

“I got it.”

You blinked, once, before your smile turned into a grin and it stretched wide. You barely had the common sense to place your wine on the countertop before you launched yourself at the boy, your arms wound round his neck as your crushed your face into his curls. Eddie whooped, a joyful thing as he lifted you off your feet and grinned against your throat.

“You got it,” you whispered back to him, everything in you frilled with awe and pride.

“I got it,” he repeated again. His voice sounded thick.

The internship with Chef Emmelie was something that everyone in Eddie’s class was vying for. Eddie had spent an insane amount of time on his application, using you as his own personal taste tester in both work and home. New recipes were concocted, old dishes were reworked and it had all paid off. Eddie had been hand picked to work alongside one of the country’s greats, assisting in setting up a new restaurant, a fine dining establishment that promised to deliver nothing but the best cuisine to the masses. Eddie would help create the menu, and hopefully, maybe, eventually, take over as head chef.

It was another level of surreal.

“I knew you would,” you mumbled into his neck, pulling back only to crush Eddie’s cheeks in the palms of your hands and give him a kiss that ducked his breath away. His lips tasted salty, but perhaps that was your own tears you could taste. Eddie just held onto you tighter, his stew mix bubbling away without any attention. “Where is it? Have they told you where you’re setting up?”

You’d held Eddie’s hand as he clutched his application letter and promised him that no matter where they sent him, you’d follow. The only thing that tied you to Hawkins, was the boy and Basil was easy enough to smuggle into a cat carrier, once you could catch him. Wayne had squashed any hesitancy from Eddie immediately, waving him off and saying that there would be private jets for each of you once he hit the big time as the new celebrity chef. And of course, there was the diner.

Eddie laughed then, a breathy, disbelieving thing and he finally shuffled to settle you onto the small dining table that sat in the corner of the kitchen. He nudged his way in between your legs, sniffling when Basil appeared to wind around his own ankles and the only sounds were the purring of the cat and the simmering of dinner. You held your breath, brows raised, expectant.

London? Dubai? Paris? Los Angeles?

“They wanna set up in Chicago.”

—————

Going back to the city you left was a lot less daunting with Eddie by your side.

Wayne moved out of the trailer park and into your apartment, something that made leaving a little easier for Eddie. He still owned the diner, and promised to stop by at least a few times a month if scheduling around the new restaurant would allow. He’d found a new manager, a woman from town called Joyce who loved to bake and knew enough about taxes and accounting that she didn’t fuck up order and invoices. She loved the place like Eddie did, promised she’d do it proud.

(She met Jim on Sunday in summer and after she served him her famous cherry cheesecake, one date in the park had turned into three, into five and now they were inseparable. They spent most of their time walking around town, visiting farmers and Jim enjoyed his retirement by helping Joyce create new desserts for the diner.)

Eddie’s internship came with an apartment in the suburbs, a small townhouse that was far enough from the hustle of the city that you felt more at home than before. It was less bright, less loud and Basil had a garden to roam in, a bench beside a vegetable patch he could bathe in the sun from.

It had a pantry and old oak floors, a huge window that looked out onto the street that was lined with cherry trees, and a nook in the living room that you liked to read in. You found a job, pretty easily, a vintage bookstore on the edge of town that smelled like coffee and cinnamon, old pages and older stories. It was owned by an old man who let his dog sleep under the front desk, who brought in pastries for breakfast and made you sweet tea in the summer.

The restaurant opened in the spring. Hit headlines the following day, praising the special on the menu made by newcomer chef, Edward Munson. By the summer, the heat was climbing and so was Eddie’s popularity. He was running the restaurant, got to create a new menu every six weeks and the waitlist was booked out until Christmas. He told you he loved you every time you paid him a visit, on your lunch break, a whisper between a kiss hello and goodbye in the kitchen, coy whistles from his staff that he burned pink at.

And when you both drove back to Hawkins for long weekends and holiday stays, you crammed yourselves and Basil into your old apartment with Wayne, packed his freezer full of food and tried to convince him to take in one (maybe two) of the strays from the trailer park to keep him company.

You spent the Fourth of July with the diner crew, in the backyard of Jim and Joyce’s new home, sharing Polaroids and newspaper clippings of the restaurant, of your new home, Eddie’s menu. Steve was in awe but nothing could beat the look of pride on your boyfriend’s face when Steve told him he’d mastered a French omelette. Argyle was running the kitchen, Nancy had been promoted to assistant manager, part time or not, and Robin had helped Jonathan in running a Sunday morning coffee club, where Hawkins residents got to taste test new bean flavours over a pastry breakfast and some town gossip.

Eddie didn’t scowl much, not anymore.

And when you next bumped into Chrissy, you waved at her from under the tuck of Eddie’s arm, diamond ring glinting on your left hand in the sun. She didn’t have much to say to you, not after that.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson fluff

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siren-serenity · 2 months

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early dawns

characters: trafalgar d water law, gn!reader warnings: fluff a/n: - HIS HAT!!! he doesnt look scary, no sirrrr - feedback is appreciated!

The sun's rising above the sapphire waters of the Grand Line. It begins its path, ready to emblaze its fiery passage across the skies. But under the seas, it refracts into thousands of tiny rays, and sea critters scurry from its brightness. The Polar Tang sails through these seas freely, unafraid. It is a reflection of the pirates within; the majority of them are still asleep and snoring away.

You mumble as the sunrays pierce through the portholes of the Polar Tang, snuggling closer to the source of warmth. A familiar, calloused hand cradles the back of your head and pushes you closer to his firm chest. Eyes opening, your finger trail along the ink-black tattoos, swirling and striking to the eye. You press a soft kiss to the smiling face in the middle and you can feel Trafalgar D. Water Law's soft smile gazing at you.

"Good morning to you too," He yawns, and you're greeted with the sweet sight of his vulnerability. He sits up, in an attempt to wake up for the day. But his tired appearance reveals his hidden desire to laze in and snooze away. Law's shoulders drooped with tiredness and his hair is mussed up and messy for the first time. His beloved spotted hat is nowhere to be found and you were free to run a hand through his messy locks. "So- hrk!"

"I'm so sorry!" You gasped, immediately untangling your fingers from his hair. Your fingers accidentally caught onto a knot of hair and pulled it. His eyes were widened, fully awake now. You mourn the loss of his sleepy looks; the way his eyes squinted cutely at the light and his cat-like hisses were adorable. "You need to brush your hair, love."

Law shrugs, running a hand through his own hair. "I'll do that later."

A firm arm guides you back to his chest and you snuggle into his warmth.

"But-"

'-Weren't you the one who wanted to sleep in?" He raised an eyebrow and you rolled your eyes. "Aye, Captain."

"None of that 'Captain' business in this cabin," Law traces the features on your face, dipping in between the contour of your nose and eyes before trailing down to your lips. He traces your Philtral column and then pause on your lower lip. "Here, it's just you and me, remember?"

You yawn, lazily dragging the blanket over your body and his.

"You and I against the world," You agreed. Against a warlord. Against other pirates. Against the Emperors of the seas. Against the entire World Government, if needed.

You raised your body and with your free hand, cradled his chin. Law's eyes fluttered as you leaned in, capturing his lips in a soft kiss. Although his favorite type of kisses were the bruising ones, where he would crush his lips to yours and run his hands all over your body, he loved these soft kisses as well. The gentleness, the featherlight touches, and sneaky tickle attacks to each other's bodies were something to be engraved in his mind as well.

"You seem tired, Law," You brushed some stray strands out of his face. A gentle smile crawled onto your face and as if it was infectious, Law's lips twitched into a tiny smile. "Back to bed?"

"Back to bed," He agreed and a yawn came out of his mouth immediately afterward. His back was suddenly enveloped with a familiar warm and you threw a hand over his waist. His fingers hesitantly tangled in yours before squeezing them tight.

You pressed a kiss to the back of his neck, sending a shiver down his spine. "Night, Law."

He smirked, but you couldn't see. "I thought it was morning?"

Law definitely deserved the pillow smack to his head that followed. But a giggle escaped from your mouth before turning into chuckles.

#one piece #one piece x reader #trafalgar d water law #trafalgar law x reader #law x reader #x reader #trafalgar law #trafalgar d law x reader #trafalgar one piece

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aestherin · 10 months

Text

seatmates | scaramouche x gn! reader

a random drabble i thought of at school bc of course my mind is floating :D

i was scrolling thru my drafts when i found this i totally did not forget about this i swear </3 also not proofread bc i don't have any braincells left :DD

wc: 589

You have always hated two-person desks.

Especially those that are too narrow you and your seatmate practically have to be squished against each other in order for both of you to fully utilize the desk.

"Fucking move," Scaramouche hissed.

"No, you," you pushed against his arm which had bumped into yours earlier.

He sent death glares your way, all of which you paid no attention to. After almost a year of sitting next to each other, it was second nature to build a system that's immune to the silent and furious side-eyes of an angry cat. How long has it been? Ah.

It all started when you made the grave mistake of being late for the first day of classes. No one else wanted to sit next to the menace that is currently sending daggers your way, and so you ended up sitting on the remaining available spot — the one beside Scaramouche.

The experience wasn't all that bad, though.

Sure, sitting beside him felt like being together with a grumpy old man, but even he had some soft moments. Like when he'd let you peek at his notes when you don't understand what the lecturer was babbling about (this comes with some mockery from him, but you shrug them all off).

Or like that one time you were shivering from the AC and he let you borrow his hoodie (this came with him uttering lighthearted remarks about how you should always be prepared because what if he wasn't there to lend his hoodie? Just what are you going to do without him?)

You returned it immediately after getting it washed but he told you to keep it. It's now your favorite hoodie.

Sitting next to Scaramouche was a give-and-take situation. He would begrudgingly lend you a hand, and you would do the same. He used to disturb you from whatever you were doing just to borrow your correction tape so many times that at one point, you just laid it out on your desk, free for him to use. Luckily, he got the message and just started using it whenever he needed to. Was it just your imagination or did he really start needing the correction tape less when you just laid the thing out on the desk?

He also once left his earphones at home and kept bugging you to let him listen to whatever was playing through yours because he swears even your trashy music taste is much more bearable than listening to whatever your classmates were chattering about.

That's what he said but he now listens religiously to the playlist you've been playing on repeat.

As an attempt to get back at you for what you did earlier, he bumped his arm against yours — which was writing notes, at the moment.

Across the organized scribbling of letters and words on a page of your notebook was now a long, thick line of black ballpoint pen ink. You gasped, mouth ajar at the painful sight of a mess.

"Dude! What the fuck?" You sharply turned your head towards him, only to find that he'd already looked away from you.

"Scara, you bit—"

He only sighed.

Your attention was swayed by him slowly and gently intertwining both of your hands above the desk.

"Don't worry about it. I'll rewrite your notes for you later."

He finally gazed back at you. Blood rushed up your face as he used his hand to guide yours to his lips, pressing a light kiss.

"At least after we eat out for dinner."

#ri.writes #genshin #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche #wanderer x reader #genshin au #genshin college au #genshin oneshots #genshin high school au #wanderer #genshin x reader #aestherin #scaramouche college au #genshin fics #scara x reader

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jobean12-blog · 3 months

Text

In It for the Long Ride

Pairing: Joel Miller x female reader (Biker!Joel AU)

Word Count: 1,656

Summary: Joel is out for the night and when he returns early and wants you to leave work and come home you know something isn't right.

Author's Note: Just because I love him and missed him and this seems like something that could really happen when you're with a biker. PS our sweet little black kitten Ink is here too- she's getting big and just loves Joel of course! Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰

Warnings: soft and sweet fluff, little angst sprinkled in here and there, mentions of blood but very light

Pedro Pascal Character Masterlist

“Joel just text me that he’s here.”

You look at your friend Jade with worried eyes.

“What’s wrong? Isn’t he going to come in?” she asks.

“He said he can’t come in. He wants to know if I can leave now.”

“Of course you can babe,” Jade says quickly. “Dan and I will be fine tonight.”

“Are you sure…I don’t know what’s goin…”

“Don’t worry,” Jade assures you. “Just go to him. I’m sure everything is fine.”

You nod with a hard swallow and rush to the back to gather your things, texting Joel as you go that you’ll be right out.

Your legs are slightly shaky as you approach the door, a feeling of dread weighing you down with each step.

At first you don’t see him but then you hear the rev of his engine and your gaze is drawn to his bike. He’s parked across the street with his headlights off.

“Joel?” you question when you reach his bike.

He holds his arms out for you and you rush into them, burying your face in his neck.

“What’s going on?” you mumble into his skin.

“Let’s go home,” he says quietly.

You pull back to look at him and let out a gasp.

“Oh my god, what happened? Are you ok?”

“I’m fine darlin.’ Really I am. Just need a little help gettin’ cleaned up.”

Your eyes instantly well with tears and you lift your finger to gently brush it across his bruised cheek.

“Aw angel, no tears. I promise it’s nothin’.”

“But Joel…you’re bleeding and bruised…”

The tears roll down your cheeks, hot and wet, and his hands cup your face, thumbs sweeping across your skin to wipe them away.

“Are you ok to drive? Should we take the car? Do you need a doctor?”

Your questions come out in a rush and your voice is high pitched with worry.

He shakes his head no and the side of his mouth twitches with a smile.

“No. Just need you.”

You study him, your eyes lingering on his face until you whisper, “ok, let’s go home.”

He takes his helmet from the handlebars and secures it on your head before unzipping his leather jacket and draping it over your shoulders.

“Let’s zip this up. It’s chilly tonight,” he says.

“Shouldn’t I be taking care of you?”

“You always do darlin’.”

He kisses you softly on the side of the mouth and then helps you onto the back of his bike.

The ride home is short, less than ten minutes, but in that time the wind picks up and sky opens up with rain.

As you near the house the headlights from his bike reflect off the growing puddles on the street and you shiver against his back.

He pulls over and kills the engine, holding out his hand for you to hop off. He tucks you protectively under his arm and walks you to the door.

“I hope you didn’t get too wet angel,” he says.

“I’m fine,” you say as you walk in and turn on the light.

You turn to him and fresh tears fill your eyes.

“Let me just get us towels and the first aid kit. Don’t move.”

You rush off to the bathroom just as Ink hops off the ledge of the front window. She meows at Joel and then starts to rub between his legs.

“Hey, you,” he says as he picks up the small black cat.

Her tiny pink nose delicately explores his chin before she reaches up with a paw and softly presses it to his cheek.

“Don’t be worried like your mama. I’m fine,” he tells the cat.

“She knows you’re hurt,” you say when you return and find the two of them standing by the door staring at each other.

You take his free hand and walk him toward the couch.

“You might have to set her down for a minute. I want to get your wet shirt off.”

He puts the cat down on the couch and then grabs the hem of his shirt.

“Wait,” you say quietly. “Let me. Please.”

He drops the material and looks at you with big brown eyes.

“Ok angel. Whatever you want.”

“Lift your arms,” you instruct him as you start to peel his shirt up and off.

Inch by inch his wet skin is revealed, his tattoos along with it and you find yourself inspecting every inch of him for more injuries before gently pressing the towel to his chest. You do nothing to hide your shameless perusal of him and he’s clearly enjoying it, his eyes sparkling and his lips turned up into a boyish smirk.

“Anything else hurt?”

“Nah, but you can keep checkin’ all ya want.”

He winks at you when you look up at him with narrowed eyes.

“Ok sit and tell me what happened.”

He sits with a plop and extends his arm to pet Ink while you start to work off his boots.

“I can do that angel, it’s no…”

When your eyes meet his he clamps his mouth shut, only opening it again to explain that some out of town biker gang had started some trouble with him and the boys. No of the boys were hurt more than some bumps, scrapes and bruises but the other guys weren’t as lucky.

“Thank goodness it wasn’t any worse,” you sigh. “I got so scared when you said you wanted me to come home and all. I figured you would come in and have a drink…”

“I know darlin.’ I’m sorry I scared you. I knew I couldn’t go in the bar lookin’ like this though.”

“It’s ok. Just promise me you’ll always be careful.”

“Always,” he whispers.

After you have his boots off and dry socks on you stand and straddle his lap, settling your knees on either side of his waist and taking a smaller towel to run through his hair.

You then comb your fingers through the wet strands and give it a slicked back style. He raises a brow when you smirk and drag your teeth over your bottom lip.

“What?” he asks.

“Looks really good.”

“Yeah angel? Even with the blood?”

“Somehow it makes it even hotter…but I’m still so upset you’re hurt.”

“I’m ok.”

“You keep saying that.”

“But I am darlin.’ Honestly, couldn’t be better at the moment.”

His hands slide along your thighs and then settle on your waist. He pulls you closer and runs his nose along the column of you neck to breathe you in.

“Don’t you dare,” you gasp. “I have to patch you up first.”

“Mm hm,” he murmurs as his lips press to your skin and his fingers dance higher.

You flatten your palms on his chest and give him a light shove, giggling when he looks at you with pouty lips.

After a soft kiss you get the first aid kit and start to clean the cut above his eye and the one on his lip. When you press the antiseptic to the wound he winces, leaving his eyes closed as you continue to carefully wipe each spot.

You inspect every area of his face, especially focusing on the skin beneath his beard, lovingly caressing the gray spots as you go. He relaxes into your touch and you let your fingers gently trace his features.

“All clean,” you whisper.

You hand him the small ice pack you got from the freezer. “Hold this on your cheek.”

“But my hands are busy,” he sighs.

His hands graze the skin beneath your shirt, calloused thumbs caressing the softness before they inch higher.

“You only need one hand for this,” you lightly chide.

His eyes pop open and he gives you a stern look. “Fine.”

You bat your lashes at him and wait until he has the ice pack pressed to his cheek.

“Just until I finish up.”

You put medicine on the cut above his eye and one butterfly stitch then clean up the dried blood on his knuckles.

“You must have gotten a pretty good punch in.”

You can see his muscles tense when you press the pad to his bruised knuckles.

“You bet I did angel,” he boasts. “And that’d be plural…punches.”

When you meet his eyes he winks again and throws you a smug grin.

You kiss it right off his lips then smudge some medicine on his knuckles. He immediately puts down the ice pack and places his hands back on your body.

“That could probably stay on a bit longer,” you tsk.

“Later,” he murmurs.

Ink walks along the back of the couch and sits herself down right behind Joel. She blinks at you several times then starts to swat at the curls of hair at the back of his neck.

“She likes them almost as much as I do,” you tease.

“She’s just wantin’ attention,” he grumbles. “Gets that from you too.”

You shoot him an incredulous glare and then give him one more once over.

“Think I did a pretty good job,” you state.

“I feel brand new,” he says as he drags you closer and smooths his hands along the curve of your back.

When your lips meet you’re mindful of his cut but he doesn’t seem to care at all and dances one hand higher until he grabs the back of your neck and kisses you harder.

He moans into your mouth and tugs at the hem of your shirt. Your hands delve into his damp hair and then slide down to his shoulders. His bare skin is warm and when you feel the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingers you ease away and battle with the reminder of what happened, your eyes glassy.

His large hand cradles your cheek and he smooths his nose along your jaw, bringing his lips to your ear.

“Darlin’,” he coos. “It’s all right. I’m fine…let me prove it to you.”

@hiddles-rose @lorilane33 @littleseasiren @blackwidownat2814 @kmc1989

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #biker!joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #biker!joel x reader #biker!joel miller x reader #joel miller x y/n #pedro pascal #joel miller imagine #pedro pascal x reader #joel miller x female reader #biker au

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kkecreads · 2 years

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Secrets and Lies J.S. Ellis

Published: September 27, 2022 Black Cat Ink Press Pages: 274 Genre: Thriller KKECReads Rating: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ I received a copy of this book for free, and I leave my review voluntarily. J.S. Ellis is the author of psychological thrillers and suspense and published her debut psychological thriller in 2019, which was an instant success and received great praise from readers. She writes stories…

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gender-trash · 3 months

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(i am seriously late in posting about this due to The Problems BUT whatever! its here now!!)

somewhere around late november 2022, i asked my dad "hey are there any out of print technical books you'd like a reprint of for christmas?"

he linked me to a dubious black-and-white pdf of Foundations of Mechanical Accuracy. now, i wound up checking out a copy through link+, and the original edition is a really nicely put together book! the chapters are themed around various types of measurements (length, angle, etc), and they all have these cute little diagrams which the endpapers reuse in a lil repeating pattern... the image captions are done in this really lovely dark red that did not scan for SHIT... tons and tons of diagrams and illustrations and images (both color and b&w)... just, all around, a fucking nice book!! (see also @morrak's post about it here.)

and that made me feel kind of bad about the crappiness of the pdf, which is where the Problems began. i used my phone to take pictures of all the photos and color diagrams in the original and went about replacing them in the pdf, using what turned out to be the world's worst pdf editing software (i also got through replacing all the image captions in chapter 1 of 5 before my dad convinced me to give up). i did NOT finish the pdf editing before christmas 2022 (i was going somewhat off the deep end, because both my housemates were away visiting family and i had zero external structure in my life so it was just me and my cat and this stupid FUCKING pdf wrecking my sleep schedule together); i poked away at it for most of the rest of my time off and then got so goddamn sick of it i put the project away for months. "it'll be a birthday gift instead", i said optimistically (my dad's birthday is in april! it should have been enough time!)

gentle readers, i did not finish the pdf editing by april. mostly because it was such a miserable slog that i put it off until the last possible moment and then tried to make up for it with another death march.

hating both myself and the project again, i decided i was Not going to let myself typeset Anything Else before it was done, and then took a break to bind my immortal (using the renegade publishing typeset! i didn't do any typesetting!!). SURELY, i said, i can finish this in time for christmas 2023.

i'm sure you know where this is going.

in my defense i DID finish the pdf editing by christmas, despite first doing every other possible procrastination project (including a second edition of the little second century warlord book), because by this point my dad had managed to convince me to lower my standards. on the evening of the 22nd i kicked off the print job and said to myself "this will finish printing overnight and then tomorrow i can work on sewing the textblock!"

late on the 23rd, after lots of babysitting and using at least one cartridge of every color ink in my printer, the print job was finally done. (my sweet and lovely cat wants SO BADLY to hunt and stalk the printer while it is printing -- more specifically, the printed pages, i think because they tend to make noise and move and then STOP moving. for this reason, the printer is kept in the craft room, because the cat can be shut out of the craft room and thus prevented from chewing on the pages when i have an all-day book printing job going. unfortunately the craft room was also being pressed into service as a guest room at the time so 80% of the floor space was consumed by an air mattress which i had to repeatedly trip over in order to reach the printer and replace the ink cartridges.)

then i went to my parents' house on the 24th and 25th and apologized to my dad (again) for not having the book finished. but this worked out well because we finished putting together my awesome new book clamp:

(the feet still aren't done being painted so they're just dry-fit on for now but you can still clamp books in it and that's what matters!!)

i came home, sewed the textblock (french link stitch over four linen tapes, with sewn endbands made of variegated embroidery floss over linen cord, and kozo paper glued over the spine)

... and promptly realized i SHOULD HAVE PUT IN MORE OF A GUTTER because some of the text was getting reeeeeeal close to the spine. "it's fine!" i said. "i just have to make sure it lays flat!! what better time than to try out K118 binding, a technique i have literally never done before and which people on the bookbinding discord notoriously have a hard time pulling off first try! i even have tyvek tape for it!"

so it turns out that tyvek tape isn't actually tyvek with glue on it, it's tape FOR attaching pieces of tyvek TO EACH OTHER, which maybe i could have guessed if i'd done even the slightest amount of research or planning. at this point i think it was the 27th and i was still angling to get this thing done by new year's, so no time to order Actual Tyvek.

fortunately, i had ALSO received An Package in the mail with yarn for a totally unrelated knitting project... shipped in a tyvek envelope.

i peeled all the shipping labels and stickers off my tyvek envelope, cut that shit up, and glued it on there.

and THEN it was time for gluing on covers, which i thought was going to be easy because i had actually thought ahead and ordered materials (specifically acid-free museum board), except when i cracked open the box of museum board i decided i Didn't Like It because the surface was too soft and easily dented, so i glued onto it the too-thin board material i'd previously been using (so that the cardboard goes on the outside of the book). this worked super well (the cardboard stuff has a tendency to curl up from the glue moisture, but the museum board doesn't!) and i'll probably use it on other stuff in the future.

i thought the blue bookcloth i used was kind of boring but i showed my dad the available cloth options and he really liked it, so... what do you know? i cut the piece i used on the back cover very slightly too short but it wound up being covered by the leather, so you can barely tell.

and the leather... a scrap just baaaaarely big enough from my bag of leather scraps from discount fabrics... and this the first time i'd ever attempted to put leather on a book... AND YET the only complaint i have is that i didn't manage to put an even amount on the front and back. it's reasonably square and straight!! amazing!!

i am super super happy with how this project came out (especially given the number of problems i encountered) and oh my god check out how much the spine bends

AND, AS A NEW YEAR'S PRESENT, I FINALLY MANAGED TO GIVE IT TO MY DAD

#and promptly got sick after i got home from my parents' house.#which is part of why this post was so long delayed #the trashcan speaks #devil venerable also wants to exploit the memoir class for evil purposes #bookbinding

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nobodyfamousposts · 8 months

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Here's a Thought About Harry Potter...

Okay, so you have bigoted Wizarding children who look down on muggles and muggleborns and put big emphasis on wizarding lineage and whatnot. Big example in canon was Draco and his open use of the derogatory word "Mudblood".

So let's ignore the blatant favoritism where he and others are free to bully and be overtly cruel with no punishment or consequence.

Let's also pretend the teachers actually do their jobs and issue appropriate punishment.

What would happen if one of said teachers decides that the best way to curb Draco's blatant discrimination would be to have him learn about muggles?

So Draco ends up transferred to Muggle Studies.

Draco: This is a waste of time! Name one thing muggles have accomplished that Wizards haven't. Go ahead. I'll wait— Teacher: They've been to the moon. Draco: Wait—what? Teacher: Six times. Draco: WHAT?!

Where he is forced to...(shudder) learn about how muggles live!

Oh nooooooooo.

So he learns about muggle inventions.

Muggle Student1: So there's this square device called a "cell phone" that's compact enough that we can carry around in our pockets. We can also use it to send messages within seconds, chat with people across the world, play games, and look at pictures of cats. Draco: Don't think you can fool me! Like I would fall for something so insane! Muggle Student2: (Sarcastically) Oh no, he caught us.

Muggle contraptions.

Draco: What do you mean they don't use quills? How do they write? Teacher: With pens. Draco: Where do they get the ink from? Teacher: It's IN the pen. Draco: (Stares) …how?

Muggle hobbies.

Malfoy: What is "internet"? Muggleborn Student1: ….oh you sweet summer child. Muggleborn Student2: Don't tell him. I don't think his brain could handle it.

He also ends up falling into the muggleborn black market.

Which comes with the revelation that there IS, in fact, a muggleborn black market at Hogwarts. Because I'm hard pressed to believe that kids in the modern era would just abandon their modern comforts completely.

Muggleborn Student1: Hey, just because electronics don't work at Hogwarts doesn't mean we have to leave everything behind. Muggleborn Black Market Dealer: I have a new stock of Cadbury chocolates, KitKat bars, and Fruit Pastilles. Muggleborn Student1: YES! Draco: (Scoff) There's nothing here I would want. Muggleborn Black Market Dealer: I have one set of "Slytherin" gel pens in black, silver, and bright green. One set of glitter gel pens. And a spiral notebook with a holographic cover. Draco: (Slams money on the counter) GIMME!

And Draco ends up learning a lot.

After all, a Slytherin is supposed to be cunning and ambitious.

It would be remiss of him to not take advantage of such opportunity as it presents itself.

#harry potter au #harry potter #draco malfoy #draco goes to muggle studies #draco learns #muggleborn headcanon #muggleborn black market

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softshuji · 11 months

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Rindou knows.

He knows you don't mean anything by it when you tell Ran "he looks handsome today" in a pinstripe purple suit, hair gelled and accented by a fresh haircut and a lick of new dye. He does look good, you'd be blind not to know it.

And he's not the type of boyfriend who believes he should control your thoughts, he doesn't want to be. Ran has made an effort and he likes that, that you're able to feel comfortable enough to not hide your thoughts, in a way that would break his heart if you did. It means nothing but a comment made as a gracious host to the love of your life's brother who you love and cherish as a friend.

But he hates that it grates him when you tell Ran this fact, and ran smiles, easy and carefree, cocking his head to the side and says "thank you doll, you look very pretty too." And it's innocent, he knows this.

But he'd be lying if he said it didn't set something off in his chest against his will, an ache, a desperation that borders on insanity. And he's not sure how to deal with it in any way that doesn't mean snapping at you, especially when you've been so attentive and have paid him praise for more than half the evening. He wishes that these bouts of avid jealousy weren't something he circled back to every now and again whenever you praised someone that wasn't him.

And it frustrates him that he can't seem to control how he stiffens when you put a hand on his arm and squeeze his bicep lovingly, a stiffness that has your kind smile faltering, a frown creasing your eyebrows.

You've laughed at a few of Ran's jokes, amicable smiles that he, in actuality enjoys. He likes that you get along, that he can spend less time pulling you apart like cats and dogs and more time experiencing the love he gets to bathe in between you. Except the drop in his stomach is palpable when you touch Ran's arm to ask if he'd like his glass of wine topped up and Ran has all but smiled and tilted his head in your direction, conversation closed with Kakucho who turns to Sanzu again as he fiddles with the speakers.

'You okay Rin baby?' you say coming up behind him, a hand on his shoulder and squeezing lovingly at his bicep and forearm, relishing in how toned it feels under the suit, and all yours to touch at as you please. He's been quiet, and he knows that you know it, that you've not missed how he's lingered near the fringe of the group, isolated as if it isn't his party to begin with, wine glass abandoned on the kitchen countertop.

He resists shrugging you off and he loathes that he considers it at all, especially when you're soft as you look at him, the glaze of your slightly wine-drunk eyes filled with the glowing reflection of him and adoring. 'Yeah, fine.' Clipped, and you narrow your eyes suspiciously, before leaning to peck at the corner of his mouth where the taste of sour grapes melts onto his lips.

He hates it, when he sees a faint flash of hurt and concern in your eyes when he refuses to kiss you back, all self-loathing and pain disguised as nonchalance that has him turning from you to Sanzu who only looks up from above his cigarette.

It continues like that for a little while as the partygoers leave and you arrange their neat housewarming gifts on the ottoman stool for the two of you to unpack later. You say goodbye to Ran who quirks an eyebrow in Rindou's direction in question and you're quick to soothe his worries and shut the door to face your boyfriend's back as he drifts to the bedroom alone.

You're not sure where to start when you see him pulling off his own tie, his back to you as he stands in front of the mirror, all sullen silences and thick tension that you pretend doesn't ache as you hover near the edge of the bed.

'Rindou?'

'Yeah?' He doesn't raise his head as he pulls the cuffs of his sleeves, pressed white shirt that slips and slides over the toned ridge of his back, honeyed skin that shines just shy of gold when the lamplight swirls along the black ink.

'You've been quiet, is everything okay?' You approach, as the mouse approaches the lion, trepidation that has your voice wavering on the edge of every word.

'Why wouldn't it be?'

'You seemed off Rin, you can tell me y'know, I know I wasn't imagining it.' You put a hesitant hand on his shoulder and the muscle stiffens under your touch, instinctual, as he turns to you with the anger and hurt flaring in his eyes.

His voice is small when he says, 'Did you mean it? When you said you thought Ran looked- when he-'

'Rindou-'

'-if you prefer him over me- I get it but- I just thought you'd be the one who-'

'Rindou.' You shake your head and your hand comes around to rest on the apex of his chest, a subtle and soft tug that has your arms resting on his shoulders from behind, slightly dwarfed by the swell of his back as you press your mouth to his skin.

'Rindou, my Rin,' you say, your lips skimming over the whirl of ink on his shoulder blades. 'Is that what this is about?' You move to stand in front of him, the glow of the lights on the vanity mirror now silhouetting you against the wall.

He fiddles with the hem of his shirt, open now, to reveal the glow of his chest, jet black ink that disappears beneath his waistband, head hung to avoid the spike of concern in your eyes. 'Maybe.'

He wishes it wasn't the case, that it still bothered him this many years later, and he knows you better in his heart, than to assume you're that type, that the years of your consistent affection have somehow meant nothing when you've made every effort. He knows, he loves you, you love him, and by tomorrow this will have passed. He knows this.

'Oh Rin,' you say and soften further, palms that come up to cradle his face, a gentleness that never fails to have his cheeks breaking out in a crimson tint. 'It's not like that at all baby.'

'I know I know but-'

But it had felt like it for the thinnest second. It had felt white hot and burning, the green seed of envy that he knows has no place here, where the softness of your palms come to cup at his cheeks, as if you would break him, as if it is you who is all sharp edges and glass.

'-but you're mine, you're meant to be mine. You're my thing, the one that's only mine.'

You blink and the naked vulnerability has a tinge of crimson spilling across your neck. You press your lips to his, soft and supple, wine sour and flecked with the red of having been bitten down and hums, first in surprise, before slotting his lips along yours, all affection and urgency and need and worry and grief rolled along his tongue.

You break, a fraction of a second, the saliva breaking in the air, a thin silvery line on your chin and he thinks you look beautiful like that, your hair mussed from his wandering hands, lips softened by wine, the taste of home on your skin.

'I'm your thing Rindou, and yours only. I love you, really love you. You're my thing too,' you say, your breath curling along his cheek, the outline of you wreathed in gold, angelic halo that flashes in his eyes, tipsy and smiling sleepily, all the love that still feels new this many years later. And he knows, how much unlearning he's had to do to get here, all anxiety that he's willingly placed aside for you, all the wrongs he's fixed of himself, determination that has him stealing your breath when he cages you against the bed again, his thigh between your legs, all love that has him knowing you instinctually.

He loves you and it pains him. You love him, and it soothes him.

reblogs appreciated!

#tokyo revengers #tokyo rev #rindou haitani #haitani rindou #rindou x reader #tokyorev x reader

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amuromi · 7 months

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★ ₊ ⊹ ⋆˙ ┈ 𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎 𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈 X ᶠ!ᴿᴱᴬᴰᴱᴿ

✦ ⋆˙ 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 ┈ 5.3k

✦ ⋆˙ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒 ┈ NSFW! mamaguro!reader, tipsy/drunk sex, unprotected sex, established relationship (married), pet names (mama), oral (f!receiving), postpartum/baby weight insecurities, implied safe word (not used, just mentioned)

✦ ⋆˙ 𝐀!𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 ┈ According to Gege, Mamaguro was what got Toji on the straight and narrow for a little while. I wanted to explore the thought a bit.

✮ 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 & 𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓!! ✮

The familiar beeping of the keypad cuts through the droning static of the night, trilling crickets and passing cars, as Toji punches in the passcode. The little light seems to hesitate before flickering green and blinking its acquiescence to his presence. With a dull click of the motion sensor the entryway blooms with a stark wash of fluorescence bright enough to make him squint, eyes stinging after wasting hours in the dimness of some club. His pockets are lighter and his head is fuzzier for it, the taste of alcohol still burning on his tongue as he kicks off his shoes and pads deeper into the apartment. The entryway goes dark without him to trigger the automatic light and the hall offers no light to replace it but he’s familiar enough between these walls to find his way towards where he needs to be, stumbling only once as a toy finds its way underfoot, squeaking as he kicks it away.

The room is illuminated by the faintest light leaking through the slightly parted curtains. The thread of faded yellow light slants across the bed, finding shapes in the darkness. The parted lips of his wife and the fluttering lashes of his son. He’s a tiny thing even after all these months–still a wisp of a person–but bigger than the last time Toji saw him. His face has started falling into place, fledgling features beginning to take shape. So strange that this little thing could look so much like him. Familiar black hair falls across his forehead like streaks of ink and his face is screwed up into a scowl even as he sleeps, legs kicking and arms twitching.

Toji’s shadow cuts through the beam of light as he stands over his son in his nest of pillows–“to keep him from rolling,” he vaguely remembers you saying. Toji’s hands are rough, calloused and scarred, but he can’t deny the urge to touch his son. He presses a dimple into the baby’s cheek, and his skin is plump and warm like a dumpling beneath the pad of his father’s fingertip as he begins to stir in earnest at the disturbance. He stretches like a cat, grape-sized fists reaching out above his head before his eyes blink open with a yawn. Twin pairs of deep blue eyes meet in the darkness. Toji expects the tears that ensue as his son’s sleepy gaze lands on the hulking silhouette standing over the bed. At first it’s only the whisper of a sound, short garbled whimpers that slowly work up to a volume loud enough to wake you. The reaction is immediate, platitudes ready on your tongue even as your voice slurs with exhaustion.

“What’s wrong, Megumi?” The raspy drawl of your voice is enough to soothe the baby’s tears as you sit up to hold him. It takes you so long to acknowledge Toji that he has to wonder if you’re purposefully ignoring him as you fret over the crying baby. A curt “welcome home” is all you can muster towards him as you dote on your son, shushing and cooing until his little whimpers turn into snores. The nursery is at the end of the hall–the farthest room from the front door at your insistence–and you shoulder past Toji to take Megumi to his room. He lets you, stepping aside because you’d never actually be able to move him even if you used all your strength. He’s as movable as a brick wall even if there’s a bit of alcohol numbing his reflexes and you know it. Knocking into him is as effective as a dog growling at a wolf.

While you’re gone, he tosses the extra pillows to the floor along with his shirt. It’s laced with the scent of cigarettes and folded pride after spending the day whittling away his earnings on what were supposed to be sure things. Easy money made by taking low stakes bets that all unraveled one after the other. The money is wasted now and maybe he needs a fight, some kind of outlet, to expel the lingering frustration. He’s waiting for you at the foot of the bed when you return from putting Megumi down. Like a moth to a flame you come fluttering over to him looking to get burned. You stand between his spread legs and Toji can’t find it in himself to keep his hands off you.

The tank top you wore to sleep is already rucked up your waist from sleeping and his thumbs find the exposed skin of your stomach, kneading against the new softness of your waist. It’s waning with each day as your body slowly reknits its shape after having Megumi but Toji finds himself somewhat enthralled with the lingering baby weight. You’re always quick to catch an attitude the moment he starts clinging around your extra weight. Smacking at his hands and telling him to leave you be like he cares if you’ve gotten bigger from carrying around his kid for nine months. It shows in your hips and your breasts, makes you look real good even when you moan about how long it’s taking for your body to “snap back.” It’s not like you’re a stretched rubber band to be shrinking once the tension’s gone but he keeps the thought to himself. It’s been made abundantly clear you’re not trying to hear his reassurances anytime you get to berating the body he loves so much. As if you aren’t everything he wants and more.

“Missed you.” The words sting worse than the alcohol. It isn’t in him for Toji to be saying things like that often. But both of you already know he hates being away from you, and now Megumi, too. His hands tighten around your waist as you try to pull away, pulling you closer even as your feet drag until he can rest his face against the lingering roundness of your stomach. He got you like this. Everything about you in this moment, the tired drawl of your voice and the added softness of your body is all his doing and he’s damn proud of himself. His pretty little wife that suffers his erratic presence and pitiful parenting with little more than patient sighs. Sometimes you’re upset and he always deserves it but even when your face is lined taut with anger he can’t help but marvel about how lucky he is. Makes him want to straighten up, be better. Makes him want to do right by you like a proper husband should. You’ve given him all your time and energy. Your name and everything. It’s the least you deserve but here he is, face smushed happily into the soft warmth of your tummy as you card through his hair, waiting for an explanation for his absence. After all, he said he’d be home two days ago.

Toji has been gone for nearly a month, having fed you some lies about freelancing on a construction contract a few prefectures over. It’s something simple, easy to swallow. Because he can’t very well tell you about what it is he really does to keep a roof over your head. It’s selfish, lying to you the way he does, but Toji has never claimed to be a particularly altruistic man. He’s selfish and greedy. Doesn’t want anything bad coming near his girl, tainting the charitable image of him she has in her mind. If you wise up too much you might up and leave him and then where would he be? Nah, he’ll keep telling you he’s out doing grunt work, manual labor. The type of strenuous work that pays well because you don’t need to know what it is the hands he touches you and your son with are truly capable of.

“You mad at me?” He asks when you take too long to answer him. It’s not meant to sound so teasing, so mocking, but Toji is sardonic by nature and his tongue is plied with too many shots. It makes him sound like he’s trying to rile you up. And maybe he is. Hadn’t that been his original intention before you came back to him all soft and sweet, looking so perfectly tired. He shouldn’t push you but he wants to. It’s clear you’re exhausted but he’s wide awake and pumped full of liquor and audacity. It curls around him like armor, makes him want to poke and prod until you stoop to his level and entertain his excess energy. He needs something to help him work through the high of coming home to you. His teeth find a soft spot to land above your navel and you yelp out a sharp quit it! before smacking the back of his head as his tongue tastes the place his teeth had been.

“What do I have to be mad about?” Comes your pragmatic answer as your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging at the roots to get his mouth away from you. It doesn’t work. He’s stronger than you, won’t move unless he wants to and what reason would he ever have to leave the soft warmth of your body? You smell so good in a way you probably hate. There’s no trace of perfume on your skin. No lingering scent of soap or detergent. You smell wholly like yourself. Like sweat and something sweet and it makes him want to taste every inch of your skin. You squirm as Toji pushes your shirt higher until it’s tucked up under the swollen weight of your breasts heavy with milk.

“Nothin’.” Toji decides even though he’s sure there’s a thousand things you could be mad at him for. He was gone two days longer than he said he’d be and wasted one of those days blowing his money on spoiled bets. He was late and still had the audacity to come home far past midnight, in those dark hours that linger just before sunrise, after you’ve been dealing with a newborn all day. Yeah, you should be mad, but he’s glad you’re not. When he looks up there’s the faintest hint of annoyance lingering on your face, pinched between your brows and weighing at the counters of your mouth. It’s a pretty look on you as his eyes begin to adjust to the muted darkness. Mussed hair, tired bruises under your eyes, and disheveled clothes. It’s a look only he gets to see because you’d never leave the house looking like you’ve just gotten into a fight. But fuck if you don’t make it look so good.

It’s enough to make Toji smile. Something mean and wanting as he stands to get in your face. He can hear it in your voice, that aloof attitude that you get whenever he’s in one of his moods. You’re trying your hardest not to rise to his prodding and it’s almost annoying how fucking perfect you are. The kind of woman that only exists in movies. The kind of woman that deserves more than him. But Toji won’t let anyone else have you. He made that decision a while ago. Marriage and a baby. A ball and chain to tether you to him. He watches the realization dawn on your face as he presses in until you’re nose to nose, a nervous “not tonight, Toji” whispering over his lips as you try to pull away from him again. He wants it to be tonight. And every night after. How can you be so perfect and expect him not to be panting after you like a dog every second of the day?

“Let me do it,” he asks, voice toeing the line of begging as his hands find your waist again. “Let me have it, mama.” Toji loves the way you squirm and pout and look away from him whenever he calls you that, like you aren’t the mother of his child. He kisses the corner of your mouth, a habit he picked up from you always pressing sweet little kisses to his scar. You fluster and shake your head, trying to pull out of his arms. He lets you just to see what you’ll do, frowning when you tug your shirt down over your stomach and go to lay back down. He watches you settle on top of the sheets, curling up on yourself like he won’t be able to see you if you make yourself small enough. Your breath comes too quickly for you to be sleeping, body lined with too much tension as you wrap yourself around his pillow like he’s not standing right here for you. His fingers wrap around your ankle, pulling you loose from the ball you’ve curled yourself into.

“The fuck are you hiding for?” Toji snaps as you try to fix your top after his pulling rolled it up your back again. He hears you whine his name, small and petulant like you have something to be embarrassed of. It takes a moment for the realization to click into place, for Toji to fully accept the idea that his pretty little wife might not be feeling so pretty after all. Toji isn’t big on manners, doesn’t wanna stoop to saying please and begging for what he wants but he just might with the way you’re acting. It’s clear you want it. He can tell by the way you’re rubbing your thighs together. You want it just as bad as he does and yet here you are, covering yourself with the sheets and murmuring about not yet. Toji’ll be the first to admit he hadn’t paid much attention to anything the doctors were going on about when you were laid up in the hospital, sweating and crying as you held Megumi for the first time, but he does vaguely remember being advised against sex for awhile.

“Does it still hurt, mama?” He asks because he can’t be too sure you’ve fully healed from the ordeal of pushing a little person out of your body. When you shake your head and throw your arms over your eyes, Toji frowns. He’s been gone for three and a half weeks, hasn’t fucked you in just as many months, and yet here you are mumbling over excuses to keep your clothes on. Too tired, too late, Megumi might wake up again. As if he won’t do all the work to make you feel good.

Toji can’t help but scoff. “What are you on about?”

As if he hasn’t answered calls while he’s balls deep inside you. If his son wakes up he’ll go see what he needs and come back to finish what he started. You don’t even need to move. All you gotta do is lay back and spread your legs while he takes care of the rest. His fingers hook into the elastic of your waistband, keen on pulling those baggy pants off. He knows what to expect. Your thighs got thicker to match the new weight of your hips. He’s expecting the plushness as he wrestles the pants off your legs even as you weakly bat at his hands and whine about him waiting a minute. All it earns you is another bite to the softness of your thigh because why would he wait even a second more after he’s already waited this long.

He’s nearly delirious with desire. There’s no more time for waiting and your pitiful little protests aren’t doing much to convince him that you actually want him to stop. You need this. Need your man to bully you out of your clothes and prove how much he’s missed seeing your body because clearly Toji’s words aren’t enough to get it through your thick skull just how gorgeous he thinks his wife is. But fuck do you look beautiful even in the darkness. He spares a second to turn on the bedside light, ignoring your feeble attempts at protest as the dim light washes over you. He watches you try to roll away, grasping at the sheets to cocoon yourself out of sight.

“Stop fucking runnin’, mama. Lemme see my girl. Already said I missed you.” Toji groans as he grabs you by the waist, reveling in the way you squeak as he moves you where he wants. Little thing always thinking you can run from him like he won’t pull you back every time. He’s greedy, wants to keep you to himself. You’re his. His wife, mother of his son. His, his, his. And yet you’re acting like he’s exaggerating how desperately he wants you after so long. Maybe it’s the alcohol turning him mean, but he wants to prove himself beyond a shadow of a doubt in your mind. It’s all he ever wants. To prove himself worthy. He knows he not but it’s the least he can do to pretend that one day he might be. You just have to let him.

He takes pity on you as you squirm, grasping for the edge of the sheets Toji’s already tossed out of reach.

“S’okay, mama. I got you.” His hands pet over your hips, fingers playing at the edge of your panties. He wants them off of you, wants to get his mouth on your cunt ’cause he can clearly see the wet spot seeping between your legs. You’ve always loved how big he is, how easy it is for Toji to move you how he wants, and yet here you are trying to play at being bashful like you don’t want his head between your legs.

“Don’t be gross,” you whine as he works you out of your panties and brings them up to his nose. Toji doesn’t miss the way you lift your hips to help. All this huffing and puffing when you want it just as bad. It makes him want to be nastier just to get under your skin, and just like he wants you to, you whine something about him being such a nasty weirdo as he tongues at the wet spot your pussy has left in your panties. The taste has his cock swelling in his pants, twitching to be inside you after months of only using his hand. It’s nearly painful the way his dick throbs at the sight of you spread underneath him. Wet and neglected as you try to tug your shirt down over your lap. Fuck, he’s glad he married you because Toji can’t stomach the thought of another man ever being in his place and getting to see you just like this. He hears the sound of your hand smacking his shoulder more than he feels it as you try to get him from between your legs. It doesn’t work, just makes him nip at your thigh again as he shoulders your legs apart and pushes your stretched shirt out of his way.

Toji isn’t doing it for you when his tongue licks a broad stroke up your pussy but you sigh like he is before thinking better of it and going back to pulling at his hair, trying to get him from between your legs like anything could part him from your fat little cunt. The feeling prickles over his scalp and sings down his spine in a way that has his hips grinding against the bed. He’s not worried about you as he sucks your clit into his greedy mouth, tongue tracing the shape of his name over the sensitive bud. It’s his, you’re all his.

He can barely hear you whining over the sound of how wet your cunt is in his mouth. “Toji, get up. M’gonna squish you, stop it!” You’re not saying anything important and he tightens your legs around his head, trying to drown in the warmth of your thighs smothering him. When you don’t get your way he feels the hand not gripping his hair pressing against his shoulder. Not trying to move him, but using his immovable nature to your advantage as you try to scoot up the bed. He doesn’t care until you get far enough that his mouth pops off your cunt. There’s a shining mess of spit and arousal strung between the two of you and he’s eager to make you even messier. An arm is tossed over your wiggling hips, heavy as a steel beam to keep you from running from his mouth again.

“Stop movin’, lemme eat in peace.” He groans as his nose nuzzles against your clit while he tongues at your fluttering hole. His eyes watch you over the soft curve of your tummy. Your eyes are wet with tears as you whimper over the feeling of his hot tongue on your pussy. You’ve been suffering just as much as he has but you’re still acting like you don’t want him to fucking ruin you, like you don’t deserve it. You do. Of course, you do. Everything and more. He feels you relax into it, hand loosening to softer tugs in his hair as your lashes flutter and lips part. This is how he likes you, soft and happy. Quiet little moans filling the room as he makes a mess between your legs. He can feel you getting close as your pussy drools down his chin. Your thighs are tensing around his head, shaking in the way they always do when you’re close to cumming. It makes him laugh, and the deep sound sings through your pussy. It’s enough to push you over the edge.

Finally, finally, you drop the shy act and pull his mouth closer, hips grinding against his face like you’re trying to mark him up with your wetness. He can feel it glossing over his cheeks and chin, smell it as he watches you ride his face. Two fingers find their way inside your fluttering walls, hooking against that sweet spot until you squeal and he gets to hush you like that’s not exactly what he wanted to hear. Because weren’t you the one worried about waking the baby? Now listen to you. This is what he wanted and you were being all stubborn acting like he couldn’t have it. It’s not until you’re running again that he eases up. He could keep going, keep eating you until you’re all out sobbing and shoving at him to get his greedy mouth and thick fingers away from your pussy, but he’ll be nice just this once. Toji sits back on his knees and watches you cringe at the sound his fingers make as they slip out of your soaked cunt. Webs of your arousal cling between his fingers and he makes a show of dragging his tongue between them like he’s still eating you out.

“Felt good, huh?” He knows it did. You made such a big mess and you’re still dripping onto the sheets. Makes him eager to get you on his dick. It’s still straining in his pants, painfully hard from tasting you and hearing all your little noise. He gets up just long enough to strip off his pants, ignoring the mess he’s made just from getting his head between your legs. Toji eyes your shirt, still pulled defiantly low.

“Take it off.” You grab at the hem, fiddling with nervous fingers. “Take it off or I’ll rip it off.” He amends. You mumble something that sounds like “don’t wanna” as you cling to the fabric like it’ll keep him off you.

Toji scoffs, “You know what to say if you don’t want to.” He reminds you as he grabs at the collar of your shirt. It’s damp with sweat as is the rest of your body. You look shimmery in the low light, eyes glittering with tears as he works you out of that last piece of clothing with a quick jerk of his arms. The shirt doesn’t put up a fight, ripping like paper so he can shove it away from your chest. Your body comes spilling out without the tight fabric clinging to you. Tits swollen with milk and tummy still holding on to that last bit of baby weight. You look like a mother and it makes his balls tighten. His mama, his girl. He got you like this and fuck if he isn’t gonna enjoy it while it lasts. He’ll leave your tits alone only ’cause you’ve been complaining–and he’s happy to listen–about how sore breastfeeding is making you. You’ve gone up a couple cup sizes and your tits look gorgeous but he won’t bother them if it’ll hurt you.

“Toji.” You’re pouting. He can hear it in your voice and see it in the way you’re squirming as he kneels over you, fisting his cock as he stares at your body.

“What?” Right about now he doesn’t really care about what you’re whining about unless you’re gonna start begging for his cock. His free hand finds your waist again, kneading at the softness he finds there. So plush and warm. Fucking you like this is gonna feel like he’s fucking a cloud. He hears you muttering about being too big and tells you to shut up.

“Don’t be fucking dumb. Acting like it’s the end of the world. Shut up and let me fuck you.” Usually he’d try to be more tactful with his words. It’s only right that you get to complain about how your body changed, but right now he really doesn’t want to hear it. You’re talking down on the body that’s driving him insane like you can’t see his cock twitching at the sight of you sprawled out beneath him. Toji tosses your thighs over his, pulling you up into the cradle of his lap, remembering only vaguely to shove a pillow under your back. You cover your face as he stares at your pussy, like he didn’t just get real up close and personal when he had her in his mouth. She’s still drooling real pretty for him as he ruts against you, wetting his dick with the mess you’re making. He feels your thighs jump every time the head of his cock catches against your clit. He pulls back the hood so he can really love on it, listening to the way you choke on your breath as he grinds over the sensitive little bud.

“Gonna let me inside, mama?” Toji asks and you nod eagerly, hips bucking in his lap. Fuck. You’re cute when you stop worrying so damn much. Acting like he isn’t dying to get his dick inside you. He can feel you clenching as he presses in, pussy gripping him so good as he drags you down on his cock. You take it so well. Inch by inch you let him inside until you’ve swallowed him down to the base, already wetting his hips with your excitement. The clenching heat is enough to stun him and Toji has to hold you still with clenched teeth to keep you from milking him to the edge too soon. You’re already trying to ride him with little bucks of your hips, hiding a smile behind your hands as you lay back against the pillows and act like you weren’t just trying to keep him off you.

“Not so shy now, huh?” Toji asks, squeezing at your thighs as he pulls back just to fill you up again with another deep stroke. You make a pretty little noise as he bottoms out, wet lips parting around a moan even as you try to catch it with your shaky hands. He’s got you good. You’re making enough noise for the both of you as Toji stirs up your insides, keeping you locked on his dick even when it starts to get too much for you. He can feel you trying to squirm away when he gets too deep inside you, hands grabbing at his wrists, trying to pry him off you. He’s mean about fucking you now, thumb rubbing quick circles on your clit as you wail about it being too much.

“S’not enough if you don’t cum, mama. Lemme feel it.” You’re already clenching so tight around him, pussy milking his cock like you want another baby. He’s lucky you’re on the pill because the way your body is rippling with every thrust is getting him weak. There’s no way he’d be able to pull out even if he can barely handle the one kid he’s already got. It feels too good to stop even when you’re trying to get away from the feeling of him spreading you open.

Toji can’t help but laugh between his panting. “This is your dick, mama, stop running from it.”

“Yeah, it’s mine.” You agree, tongue getting loose the closer you get to cumming. “Want it. Want you.” He can feel you tightening up as you babble about him being yours. Your thighs start to shake again, trying to knock shut even with his legs keeping you nice and open for him.

“Get me wet, mama. I know you want to.” You cum hard, clit twitching under his thumb as you cream on his dick, getting him all sticky with your cum. Selfish as he is, Toji keeps you on his dick for a little while longer. Milking himself dry inside you while he keeps a quick pace on your clit. You’re crying and wailing–real loud like you don’t have a kid and neighbors–by the time he eases up on you. Your pussy is flushed and swollen around his cock when he pulls out. His dick is shiny with wetness, dragging out a mess with his softening cock. You’re leaking his cum in a frothy mess onto the sheets, pussy hot and twitching from how hard he fucked you. Toji can’t help but thumb through the mess, smearing the mix of your releases over your puffy pussy and circling your clit just to hear you whine about it being too much. So fucking pretty and all his.

His hands rub at your thighs as he lets you off his lap, trying to work the soreness from your muscles while you catch your breath. He watches you relax as the fatigue slowly creeps back in. He kept you up far longer than he should’ve but it was worth it for the way you seem so content to let him rub on you. An hour ago you would’ve been batting his hands off of you and cowering like you didn’t want him to see you. Now you’re content to stretch out across the bed and let him squeeze anywhere he pleases. This is what he prefers. It’s his body you were berating anyway. You belong to him. You’re not allowed to act shy and be mean like he won’t remind you just how much you’re worth. He thinks about getting his mouth on you again as he watches you cuddle back up to his pillow and decides you won’t mind too much. He can taste himself leaking out of your pussy as he drags his tongue through your folds. You whine and shift but the hand you slip into his hair is gentle, letting him have his fun as long as he goes slow. He only parts from you when a sharp cry crackles through the speaker of the baby monitor.

“I got him.” Toji says easily. You’re barely awake and it’s the least he can do after being gone for so long. “Go pee.” He reminds you as he slips back into his pants. You mumble something that might be an “okay” as he goes to see what Megumi needs. The little spud is squirming in his crib, snotting and crying like he needs something but he quiets the second Toji picks him up. He doesn’t want his bottle, doesn’t need to be changed, he’s just making noise ’cause he woke up wanting attention. Toji is content to give it to him, walking around the nursery until Megumi falls asleep again. Toji holds him a little while longer, basking in the sweet scent that seems to cling to him. Like milk and lotion as he rests a hand on his son’s back. When he gets back to bed where you’ve already changed and fallen back to sleep, Toji considers a career change.

#toji ★#toji smut #toji x reader smut #toji x reader #jjk smut #★ mine!

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