an alien superstar! ✮

we make love a certain way, you know?

[moralisist]

— SUPERNATURAL LOVE UP IN THE AIR 🍓

hi i’m minnie! ᥫ᭡ i’m 19! - inbox is open 💌- status; active!

black reader and writer ~ west african ~ currently

writing for jjk and aot ~ in love with nanami k and beyonce~

𝜗𝜚 about me/rules for my blog 𝜗𝜚 masterlist

[moralisist]

do you guys want next fic to be aot or jjk men based ? 🤔🤔

jjk men

aot men

Voting ended onJul 19

lmk!!

[moralisist]

if y’all still hungry here’s my drunk in love fic with the aot men 💋💋

[moralisist]

drunk in love

synopsis: the aot men take care of you after a night out w the girls

warnings: drinking, suggestiveness but only sum slight, mentions of throwing up, reader is not leaving her friends for a man i swearrr

- connie

12:01 am.

connie loves to go out with his homeboys and you if you’re down. so when you told him that your friends were planning on going out tonight, he was so supportive.

“i know this night is supposed to be about you, but you can’t leave me here while you looking good as fuck.” he’s staring at your ass while you’re putting your earrings in next to your full body mirror.

“thank you baby. you gonna stay up waiting for me?” you knew connie didn’t play about his sleep but you wanted to test your luck. he walks up towards you and gives you a kiss with his arms wrapped around your waist.

“of course mama. if you need something, who else you supposed to call?”

3:47 am.

“babyyy, the girls are saying they’re tired and wanna head homee. can you come get me?”

connie was waiting up on you anticipating this was gonna happen. “of course mama, you okay? you not too drunk?” connie was sliding out his gaming chair rushing to get his keys.

“yes con, i jus-just miss you.” connie can hear the drunkenness in your voice.

one of your drunk homegirls walks over to you and takes your phone. “she had a blast with us connie! she did say she missed you tons though unfortunately. who wanna hear about a man while we out?” she laughs loudly on the phone. you snatch the phone back from her.

“ignore her and just come get me.” connie giggles at all the chaos and can hear your friends teasing you in the background. “im on my way princess.” and at that, you hear his car door close.

4:04 am.

connie’s all black audi came to the front of the club with a slight screech. he got out and immediately saw you and your friends outside talking to other girls you met.

“hi gorgeous, you look just like how i left you.” connie came up to you giving you a slight twirl to see the full outfit.

“stop connie im dizzyyy!” you grumbled at him. he smirks and looks at the rest of your friends while holding you up by your waist. “yall good on a ride?”

one of your friends answered, “yup! we timed the uber with the time you was coming to get her. it’s pulling up now.” he gave a slight nod and a polite wave goodbye while taking you to the car and into the passenger seat.

“come on baby, watch your head.” he’s handling you like glass, incredibly careful.

when he’s done buckling you, hes getting ready to head to the drivers seat. you pull him by his black tank. “gimme a kiss. i told you i missed you didn’t i? you ain’t miss me?” you fake pouted. “course i missed you.” he gave you a couple pecks on the lips, not wanting to do too much. “let’s take you home, hm baby?”

- eren

11:36 pm.

eren didn’t even like the idea of you going out. you told him it was for your friends birthday and that she really wanted to turn up for her birthday.

“you’ll call and text?” he’s standing by the door watching you do your makeup at the vanity he built for you in his room.

“course i will ren. im still gonna be your girlfriend whether i’m outside or not.” he gives a begrudging hum with a nod to his head.

he ends up dropping you off at your friends house where you guys are pre-gaming. your gathering your things you left in his car and eren grabs your chin.

“don’t hesitate for anything. if you need money or if you need me, call and ask.” you smile at him brightly. “i love you ren. i’ll always call if i need you.” eren didn’t need to hear nothing else. you guys exchange a semi-long kiss before you break it to go meet up with your friends.

1:06 am.

it was getting to the time of night where people was throwing up and feeling dizzy. you felt fine but the birthday girl ended up overdoing it and got sick. the night ended up being cut earlier than she anticipated.

“ugh y/n im sorry! i know we were supposed to have a good time and i ruined ittttt!” you were holding your friends hair as she was throwing up in the club bathroom.

you were definitely drunk as well but when your friends are sick, you tend to sober fast.

“it’s okay hun, i’ll call eren okay? he’ll come get us.” your friend nodded and kept her head to the toilet.

you step out of the stall to call eren. the phone rings about 4 times before he finally picks up. “baby you okay?” he sounds like he just woke up.

“i’m okay, it’s me and my friend. she’s super sick and she needs to get home so she can rest up. can you come get us?” eren could tell you were tipsy from your voice. “im coming. i’ll follow your location. don’t drink anything.” you laugh at his protectiveness. “kay ren, drive safeee.”

1:13 am.

eren drove quick as all hell to get to you. as soon as he pulls up he sees you and your friend outside waiting for him. he gets out and opens the back door for your friend.

“thank you ren.” you help your friend get into the backseat as eren opens your passenger seat for you.

he gets into the driver seat. “you’re not sick too are you?” you shake your head no. “words.” “i’m not sick eren, damn.” you laugh slightly. he always got like this after you were out drinking.

he grabs your face and gives you a quick kiss, “stop worrying me all the time and just stay home next time.” he grumbles. you roll your eyes but give him a kiss on the cheek as he drives off. “no promises!”

- jean

11:30 pm.

jean isn’t a controlling boyfriend at all but he gets worried when you go out without him. he doesn’t like knowing that anything could happen to you and he couldn’t be there to help you.

he knows it’s girls night and that you and your friends haven’t been out, he’s understanding of that but he worries!

you’re looking at yourself in the mirror cocky asf. your body was banging and everything was right in place. jean of course took notice, barging into the bathroom.

“baby, you look…” he gave one of those whistles and looked you up and down quickly. “stay home with me. we can have more fun here.” he pulls you by your waist while giving you a slight smile.

you smile back with all 32 teeth. “thank you hun. but i’m definitely still seeing the girls and we can have fun later.” you wink at him while pulling away to finish your lip combo.

jean puts his hands to his face and sighs, “youre gonna leave your boyfriend here all by yourself while you out there looking that good? is that fair y/n, hm?” he fake grumbles while itching to get back to your waist as your bent on the counter finishing putting your lipgloss.

“you’ll be just fine j. won’t even notice im gone! drive me to sasha’s?” you wrap your arm around his neck and give him a kiss on the lips, knowing he’ll do anything you ask after that.

he sighs, “whatever my lady wants.”

12:15 am.

jean ends up pulling up to sasha’s house. “call me when you’re done. don’t get no damn uber.” you nod excitedly. “i love you baby.” he gives you a kiss by grabbing your face. “i love you too j! i’ll call you later.”

he smiles as he watches you walk up to the door in that tight ass outfit you’re wearing. oh does he hate to watch you go, but he loves to watch you leave.

2:11: am

you and sasha are having a great time but sasha is having an even better time with this guy she’s been dancing with on the dance floor. she pulls you to the side quickly to check your temp.

“y/n, i’m having a really good time with you i swear! but i haven’t been laid in months.” she groans as she says that. “the dude with the blonde hair has been dancing with me since we got here. is it okay if…” you stop her before she finishes.

“girl please don’t even worry about it. i’m ready to head home and lay with that 6 foot man i got ready for me. i’ll call him, you go do your thing.” she hugs you and thanks you multiple times. with a quickness, you call jean. he doesn’t say much except that he’s on his way.

he sees you outside waiting and he immediately picks you up with you on his shoulders.

“jean, put me down!” you giggle.

“been waiting to sleep with you by me all night,” he puts you in the passenger seat and looks at you. “don’t go tryna leave me again.”

a/n: masterlist 🩷

[moralisist]

why’d i js see nanami x tiana x naveen on twt… i have an idea but they all need to be incredibly open minded 😊😊😊😊

[moralisist]

Hi! I recently just made this blog to connect with other black writers and shed some light on black writers and readers :)

I was wondering if you could share some advice you have on how to grow as a blog centered around black fem!reader and as a writer as well. Thank you and I love your team 💕

hi sweetheart!! the best way for me to grow a blog centered around black fem reader was to interact with other black fem writers! it allows me to deepen my writing and get so much inspo that has helped my acc. i also like to write ab experiences or norms that bw go thru day to day whether it’s about hair, culture, aave etc it makes readers have a sense of relatability tht makes people feel warm. i like to read other x black reader blogs and support support support so there’s an opportunity for the love to be shared and other ppl r able to discover the same blogs i love. it’s okay to be entirely self indulgent sometimes and cater to yourself, readers still love it and could relate to it as well! keep contact w your moots and try to interact as good as you can bc having community is nice in a community where some things aren’t made for us. loved this askkk 🩷

[torvada]

How it feels to read fanfics from fandoms that you’re not apart of

[jellywrites1218]

just reading for the good stories fr😭😭😭

[cyxnidx]

THE MONEY SHE BE FOLDIN' .ᐟ

WHAT'S THE GIG?... little bits and pieces of toji being in a relationship with a pretty lil' stripper.

featuring... toji x stripper!reader

WHAT'S THE MOVE?... THE MORNING by THE WEEKND. reader is black. shiu is a little annoying here. suggestive scenes[1]. mention of wine [not consumed, just mentioned].

luvrs note: thought of this on a whim, but I'm pretty proud of it.

girl, put in work.

toji, who didn't expect to find himself strung up over a stripper after his best friend's birthday.

"smitten over sweet nothing's, toji?" shiu asked, boredom written across his face as he watched toji space out for the nth time that day.

it's been a week since they'd left that strip club. a week since shiu's birthday celebration.

yet, it somehow seems like toji enjoyed the damn event more than the poor birthday boy, who only got a few pretty words from the pretty ladies before they walked off.

poor guy mentioned it being his birthday, and only got a dismissive "okay" in return.

toji turns his head, summer breeze crossing his cheeks. "shut up."

toji, who carelessly brought into the pretty dreams and pillow talk, regardless of his best friends' concern.

"thought you were outta money?" shiu asked.

toji glanced at him. "w'made you think that?"

shiu's eyes narrowed. "spent it all last time we were at the club. for my birthday. or d'you drink all your memory away?"

toji shakes his head. "another gig came up, that's all." "that paid enough money for you to go back to that expensive ass club?" shiu asks.

he nods like it's obvious. "wouldn't have gone any other way."

patient and tired, shiu only sighed. "don't get caught up in nothin' crazy. i ain't bailing you out of anything."

toji laughs. "some friend you are."

toji, who remembers the exact night he finally got you to leave that damned club and see him in broad daylight.

"...lest you scared of a lil' drama?"

seeing toji back in your club wasn't something that surprised you.

he and one of his friends - who you paid little to no mind - were here almost two weeks ago.

not that the timeline really mattered to you.

you're far more interested in whatever toji has up his sleeve.

your head tilted, pretty lashes batting up at toji. "what drama?"

he shrugs lazily, music booming and lights fading between one another. "from management... or whoever 'sposed to be above you."

"what, you think i'm gonna get in trouble if i'm seen out with you?" you muse.

"don't know. would you?" toji asks.

you take a sip of your drink - one he brought you, and swore he wouldn't touch - before rolling your eyes. "this a half-assed attempt at askin' me out?"

toji's head falls onto the heel of his palm. "is it workin'?"

looking him up and down, you smile slyly. deciding to give him the time of say, you say, "a lil' bit." "good to know."

toji, who only seemed to fall for you even more as he learned more and more about you.

"wine tastin'?" toji echoed, brow raised in suspicion.

you nod shamelessly. "ain't that what i just said?"

chatter of surrounding conversations surrounded the two of you - you sat outside of a humble cafe you liked.

toji was initially caught off guard by it; usually when someone mentions a cafe, it's almost always pink and white. bright and visually appealing to most.

this one, however, was littered in browns, whites and greens. vining plants and colorful flowers littered the building inside and out; hummingbirds and butterflies making cheeky appearances around guests.

when he looked at you, it matched your vibe, so he couldn't complain.

still, he rolls his eyes, appearing unimpressed. "didn't know bein' an alcoholic was a hobby." your eyes narrow. "excuse me?"

shrugging meaninglessly, his eyes drift off to the daunting sun above the two of you. "nothin'."

"don't hold your tongue now, hot-shot." you tell him, "it's a hobby, the same way killin' people's yours, ain't it?"

now, he's the one glaring. "what you just say?"

"didn't know bein' a murderer was a hobby, toji." you repeat, just barely leaning over the table.

despite your mouthiness, a wry smile stretches along his lips, scar following the movement as he says, "i guess we both learned somethin' new today."

settling into your chair, you offer a sarcastic smile. "ain't it nice, what learnin' will do?"

toji, who didn't see the big deal when he'd told shiu what you said.

"why the hell would you tell her you kill sorcerers?"

toji hummed, twirling chopsticks between his fingers casually. "'cause i felt like it."

shiu groans. "do you realize you aren't-" "i'm not supposed to tell the general public, yada-yada." toji mocks, "what's she gonna do? tell the police?"

"you'd better hope she doesn't." shiu says, "why the hell were you even out with her to begin with?"

"oh," toji says, focusing on eating his noodles before responding. "went back to the club a few days ago, made plans."

shiu narrows his eyes. "you have got to be shitting me."

"why would i do that?" toji replied sarcastically.

toji, who happens to listen more than he'd admit.

"good shift?" toji asks, watching as you shuffle out of your place of work in little slippers and a much more comfortable outfit.

you nod. "kinda boring tonight. just used the opportunity to practice, mostly."

by habit, you hand him your duffel bag - filled to the brim with hygiene products, outfits, heels, makeup, and hair products. he takes it without a word.

because of course the two of you fell into a cycle; him waking up just early enough to walk to your club. wait about five minutes for you to come out before walking with you to the bank and heading home.

a large purse sits on your arm as you walk down the street. like always, it's likely filled with stacks of cash - even if the night was boring.

he's gotten used to this schedule you've somehow got him involved with. your night routine often overlaps with his morning routine. his night routine overlaps with your morning routine. and still, he finds time to do shit like this.

"no bruising?" toji asks, eyeing you up and down. you walking a little wonky after a shift is something he got used to; almost rare to see you walk without a mild limp any day now.

you glance at him before smiling. "someone's worried." "answer the question." he groans groggily.

"no," you tell him. "no bruising. my old ones are a little sore, though."

"need anything?" is toji's next question. "aside from a bath and sleep?" you shake your head, weave flowing smoothly with the movement. "nah."

he nods, crossing the street by your side. "nobody gave you trouble?"

"aside from the same jealous bitch, no." you chuckle sleepily, resting a hand on his forearm as you rub your eye. "apparently she ended up cryin' 'cause i took her pole."

"thought you said you rotated?" he asks.

now, you perk up a little. head tilted slightly, you smirk at him. "so you have been listening?"

toji smacks his lips. "not anymore."

you laugh. "i'm joking!"

toji, who didn't understand why his best friend was so caught off-guard by the next conversation they'd have about pole dancing.

"that shit ain't easy, y'know."

shiu rolls his eyes. "what point are you tryin' to prove, toji?"

"not provin' a point." toji murmurs, "just saying."

shiu sighs, clapping a hand on his friends shoulder. "sound like she talkin' for you, man."

toji glances up. "what?"

"she's messin' up your head, toji." shiu sighs, looking at toji with mild disappointment. "i mean, c'mon. when have you ever stopped to consider how hard pole dancing was?"

ignoring him, toji continued to tap away on his phone. "new perspectives don't kill nobody."

shiu's quiet for a minute - just staring. waiting for a sly grin, or toji to sike him out, as weird as it may have been. he'd have an easier time settling with toji playing a sike-out game with him instead of watching him seemingly become brainwashed.

toji, who always felt a sense of accomplishment when you'd finish sets with him at the gym.

you drop the weights, ignoring the muted thud they make against the insulated floor.

chest heaving, you stare up at the ceiling. head throbbing, arms practically ready to melt off, and a new line of strength you didn't know you could cross.

you'd just finished a set of floor-presses 'til failure - true failure. when you were initially ready to call it a day, thinking you'd truly done it until failure, you were proven devastatingly wrong.

it only took a few 'encouraging' words and a sly smile from him for you to consider pushing.

and you did. until you met the true line of "failure".

toji's hands come into your line of sight, shielding your vision from the blinding overhead lights. you blink away surprise and sheer exhaustion.

your arms still felt heavy from the weights as you took his hand between both of yours, putting in minimal effort as he pulled you up from the chair.

stumbling slightly, you grab onto his forearm as you exhale heavily. "shit."

toji nodded, offering a smug smirk. "see? told ya you could do it." you roll your eyes, still catching your breath. "shut up."

toji, who always found a way to ask you some kind of question.

"how d'you do that with long ass nails?" he asks.

your heels click as the morning plays in a loop behind you. your place is otherwise quiet; save for the two of you talking, of course.

you blink at him, like it's obvious. "same way you make shit work even when you injured."

his gaze narrows. "don't get smart." you roll your eyes. "maybe don't be dumb."

"it was a genuine question." he insists.

sarcastically, you show him your hand and slowly wrap it around the base of the pole. stepping back demonstratively, you walk forward and pull yourself up, naturally falling into an air walk.

"like this, toji." you tell him, your free hand extended like you've done something magical.

toji scowls, mutters something about you being a smartass before tapping at something on his phone. he gnaws at his inner cheek, eyes scanning uselessly at the blue screen.

for the record, he doesn't remember the last sorcerer to make him struggle.

and still, he can't help but watch you from his peripheral.

toji, who'd finally told you about shiu's doubts.

"fuck 'em."

you'd said it easily. like the topic as a whole meant nothing.

which, it didn't. not to you, anyway.

shiu wasn't your best friend. nor was he the one laying naked in bed with you, after hours of sex you wouldn't soon forget.

"y'don't care?" toji asks, almost timid.

you glance over at him. "why would i? he don't sign my check, do he?" "alright, i get it." toji murmurs.

"i mean," you start. "you know it's real, don't you?" toji hums. "...yeah."

you glance at him again before fully turning to straddle him again, brow raised. "you don't sound sure, toji."

he can't help the dumb grin that crosses his face. "yeah, yeah. i'm sure."

leaning down to kiss him, you match his expression. "good."

toji, who expected nothing good from shiu after he broke the news to 'em.

"...what?"

toji nods. "you heard me."

"why?" shiu almost demands. "why i'm marryin' 'er, or why's she pregnant?" toji asks, a mild snarkiness behind it.

shiu forces himself to blink. "what're you gonna do about megumi-"

"he'll just have another sibling," toji says. "and a mama. win-win."

"do you not believe how insane that is?" shiu asks, pacing along the wooden bridge.

below them, sits a calm lake - ducks quack, dipping below the water to mess with their feathers before coming back up quickly.

toji watches them for a minute before shaking his head. "no, not really."

"she's a stripper!" shiu insists, "toji, you met her at a club months ago, man. she whispered sweet nothin's to you."

"yeah," toji nods along. "now she's bearin' my kid, with my last name."

shiu laughs - unimpressed. "you're insane."

toji shrugs. "maybe."

"toji, man," shiu runs a hand down his face. "why'd you call me here? hmm?"

"oh," toji hums. "wanted to ask you to be my best man."

toji, who didn't expect to be in a relationship with the same stripper who initially did nothing but string him along.

luvrs note p.2: i would def write a separate piece detailing toji and stripper!readers' pregnancy journey, or maybe the after results with lil megumi & his new baby sibling [probably a sister, knowing me]

[pockyum]

ᢉ𐭩 fem!reader, needy!reiner hcs

needy!reiner is always with you, he's your shadow. sometimes you don't even realize he's behind you, but when you turn, you're met with a huge wall of muscle. he's like a dog following you around with his tail wagging between his legs. you get up in the middle of the night to pee? when you walk out of the bathroom half-awake after washing your hands, reiner's outside the room, rubbing his eyes with one hand as he guides you to bed with the other. you're doing anything that only requires one person? well, he's there too for moral support! you're cooking or in the waiting line at a restaurant? he's right behind you with his burly, arms wrapped around your waist and his warm chest pressed against the small of your back.

needy!reiner pouts when you don't touch him back. he'll be lying his head on your lap, fully expecting you to scratch his scalp or back, and you avoid doing either. instead, you're focused on the book he got you, which he regrets because it's been taking up all of your time. he huffs and frowns when your hands continue flipping through pages, not running your hands through his soft, now healthy hair instead, and occasionally he nuzzles his face further into your thigh with hopes that you'll pay attention to him.

needy!reiner feels sooo bored when you 'abandon' him for even a couple of hours! he wonders how you could be entertained without him. when getting you're dressing up for a girls night, he's sitting behind you on the bed, staring at you solemnly like you're packing your suitcase, off to war, but you're just putting on some mascara to look good for yourself and your girls! reiner can't help but ask multiple times, "when will you be back?" or "how long will you be gone?" with hopes to stall you from leaving. he stands beside you with a frown as you've already put on your heels, ready to be picked up by one of your friends. when you stand on your tippy-toes and place a kiss on his lips, he wraps his arms around your waist tightly, not wanting to let go.

needy!reiner doesn't know what to do with himself once you're actually away. he'll occasionally text you to ask how the hangout is with your girls, but he never asks you to return immediately— he hates feeling needy or utterly worthless without you. after all, you told him that he needs to be his own person, and he's trying to listen without seeming only like an obedient dog, though he does like it when you make decisions for him at times.

needy!reiner who, when you come home, takes your shoes off for you and lets you ramble on and on about your get together with your girlfriends. he's missed your voice even after a couple of hours, and he's glad you're back. now, he can feel secure, and the two of you can be within a few feet of each other at all times!

i also saw a needy!reiner hcs post so it made me happy that the author and i were thinking of the same things!

[otakufilms]

‧₊˚﹒♡﹗₊˚⊹❀𝓸𝓽𝓪𝓴𝓾𝓯𝓲𝓵𝓶𝓼 𝓷𝓸𝔀 𝓼𝓱𝓸𝔀𝓲𝓷𝓰…‧₊˚﹒♡﹗₊˚⊹❀

rugged. toji.

𓊆ྀི warnings .ᐟ + word count—5.0K, ORIGINAL!BLACK!FEM!READER! southern domestic vibes!, husband!toji, shyblack!femreader, blackwife!reader, ranchmen!toji, gritty!toji, southerncoded!femreader, southerncoded!toji, aggressive!toji, dominant!toji, gruff!toji, sweet!toji, size kink!, pet names!baby!love!, pussy eating!, face slapping!, 69!, riding!, sex after work!toji, aggressive sex!, dick sucking!, squirting!, creaming, condomless sex, minors aren’t welcome! 𓊇ྀི

メモ。— been in a deep depression + ‘was missin’ my number one, my man, my lover, my only in another lifetime. this was inspired by a lil’ tik tok made by @scrumptious_chowder—i can’t seem to find the specific link for the video i saw, i think she might’ve deleted it? but if you see this, babe. this one’s for you. love your content + all the nasty thoughts in your head. @chrollohearttags ? love you baby. teehee. enjoy.

IT WAS ONE OF THOSE DAYS.

One where talking your husband off the verge of a crash out wasn’t enough—but fucking it out of him made it all complete. Sweeter, somehow.

The evening sun spills honey gold through lace trimmed windows, casting delicate shadows across the yellow bricked backsplash of your kitchen—your sanctuary.

The air smells like yeast and the faint citrus of lemons piled in your farmhouse sink—natural light streaming in soft, golden pools across the Tuscany checkered floors. Your fingers, dusted with flour, press into the supple dough, kneading with practiced rhythm, the marquise cut pale gold band on your left hand catching the warmth with every movement. French tips glint against the raw, pillowy mass, your wedding ring a quiet testament to the life you’ve built here—far from the noise of New Orleans, in a house he built for you with his own calloused hands.  

The vintage radio hums low, crackling with updates between New Orleans and Mississippi, the announcer’s voice a distant murmur beneath the rustle of your Persian kitten—Yumi’s—fur as she nudges the radio with her tiny, impatient head. You glance up, dark lashes fluttering, and reach over to twist the volume knob down. 

“Too loud, baby?”

Yumi answers by leaping gracefully onto the vintage dining table behind you, stretching her fluffy body into a perfect arch before collapsing into a loaf, her purrs filling the quiet kitchen like a melody.  

“…I guess so,” you hum softly.

Your kitchen was made with more love than his proposal, more intention than the ring itself. The single bowl sink overflows with lemons, limes, and a single stray peach, their vibrant colors bleeding into the muted tones of your oasis.  

The curtains flutter, carrying the scent of distant rain and turning earth—his scent, soon. The house breathes around you, every nail driven by his hands, every brick laid with the weight of his promise. 

“Ain’t gonna let nothin’ touch you ‘cept me.” 

You and Yumi share the same untamed spirit—both of you all flickering tails and sharp, watchful eyes.  

Your face, sultry as a fox, intense as a panther mid hunt, holds the kind of beauty that makes men pray before they dare to speak to you. Slender eyes, naturally dark waterline like you were born with kohl rimming them, framed by full, wispy lashes that give you an air of mischief—almost wicked, even when your soul is nothing but sugar. Deep pink lips, their edges kissed by a natural brown halo, part just slightly as you exhale, your large, arched brows lifting in amusement at your feline counterpart.  

That wild mane of yours—deep copper melting into cinnamon, black balayage curling like tendrils of smoke—is tossed messily over your head, a single stubborn curl swaying against your forehead. A constellation of dark freckles dusts the bridge of your wide nose, the warmth of your ochre complexion glowing beneath the golden kitchen light. 

“You’ll look no different in pregnancy," his voice rumbles in your mind, "Glowin’. Red. Fuckin’ perfect.”

You narrow those eyes at Yumi, who chirps at you like she’s got a whole argument prepared.  

“Daddy’ll be home soon," you murmur, thumb stroking the edge of your sourdough loaf before setting it aside to rise—“…You think he’ll like dinner?" 

The scent of New Orleans hangs heavy in the air—shrimp and andouille sizzling in a spiced roux, red beans simmering with a bay leaf tucked between them, and buttery cornbread waiting to be pulled from the oven. His favorites. The kind of meal that’ll soothe every ache in his body, warm. 

Yumi answers by rolling dramatically onto her back, paws curled, tail flicking.  

“Yeah—you’re no help."

The soft hum of the radio wraps around you as you lose yourself in the rhythm of cooking again, fingers dancing over ingredients with practiced ease. The music plays just a hair louder now—enough for Yumi to shoot you a withering glare from her perch, her tail flicking in disapproval. You ignore her with a little smile, your voice a gentle murmur as you hum along to the tune, the melody curling around the warm, spice laced air.  

Then—the growl. 

The deep, guttural rumble of his pickup truck tearing through the gravel drive is a warning, a proclamation—he’s home. Your spine straightens before you even realize it, ears attuned to the familiar sequence of his arrival—the creak of the screen door, the slam, the heavy thud of boots being kicked off near the welcome mat.  

Except today—silence. 

No boots. No pause. Just the hurried, uneven thud of his footsteps, heavier than usual, more urgent. A shiver races down your spine, instinct flaring before you can even turn—  

And then him.

Big. Encompassing. Swallowing you whole.  

His heat presses into your back, rough hands gripping your hips like he’s afraid you’ll vanish. You don’t need to look up to know his expression—you feel it. The tension coiled in his muscles, impatient huffs against the curve of your throat.  

“You scared me,” you whisper, voice trembling just slightly as your fingers lift, clawing back into the wild strands of his hair—midnight black, nearly blue in the dim light. It’s longer now, unruly, a messy tangle between a wolf cut and a short mullet, the front nearly falling into his eyes. Your nails scratch lightly at his scalp, and he exhales sharply through his nose, his apology a low, graveled grunt against your skin.  

“‘Couldn’t get to you fast enough." 

You know him.  

His anger, his irritation, the frustration clings to him like a second skin. It seeps into you like ink in water, dark and suffocating, a storm barely contained beneath the surface. Your body responds before your mind can catch up—arching back into him, your pulse fluttering beneath his touch. 

That’s when your hands shift, turning you just enough in his grasp to catch his gaze—and the moment you do, the world narrows.  

Those eyes. 

Deep gray, like storm clouds rolling in over the pasture, narrowed and restless beneath the weight of his scowl. His brows—thick, dark, almost severe—are knit together, tension carved into the space between them. At thirty two years old to your twenty nine? The years have only sharpened him, etching his features with an intensity that makes your breath catch. A full blooded Japanese man raised in the heart of the South, he’s a walking contradiction—heritage and home clashing in the best ways.  

And today, every inch of him shows it.  

Dust clings to him like a second skin, ground into the fabric of his filthy wifebeater, streaked across the navy and black flannel rolled up to his forearms. His tattoos—a sprawling canvas of ink swallowing his egregiously broad frame—peek out from beneath the dirt, the edges of them smudged with the day’s labor.  

Head ranchmen. Raising livestock. Wrestling miles of fencing. Hauling hay, operating machinery, fighting with the land and the heat and the men under him who can’t keep up—it’s all written across the stars. His muscles are still coiled tight, his jaw working as if the frustration hasn’t fully left his bones.  

And yet, god, he’s yours.  

The scent of him—sweat, leather, and something wild washes over you, a pheromone laden reminder of exactly who you belong to.  

You reach up, thumb smoothing gently between his furrowed brows.  

“You okay?”

He exhales sharply, "M’alright. Always doin’ this, woman. Thinkin’ I’m about to cry."

A laugh bubbles in your chest, but you press closer instead, fingers trailing down to cup his jaw.  

“My soul’s with yours," you remind him, tilting your chin up despite the height difference—“I know when you’re sick before you do—" 

He grunts at that, but there’s no real irritation behind it. Instead, he ducks his head, nudging his nose against yours in a rare moment of tenderness, the gesture contradicting every rough edge he wears so well.  

Toji’s head dips low, those storm gray eyes scanning you with the kind of focus that makes your pulse flutter.  

You stand there in white fuzzy socks, swallowed whole by the oversized replica of his flannel—the deep blue of it sharp against your caramel skin, sleeves slipping past your wrists, the hem hanging dangerously high on your thighs.  

And as your husband, he knows what’s beneath. 

The way your waist cinches in like a damn hourglass, unnaturally narrow compared to the flare of your hips—so wide, so heavy it looks like you’ve carried a child before. The ass that fills his palms perfectly, fat, jiggling with every step. And those tits—full, heavy, sitting high like they belong on a sultry pin up poster. His name—Fushiguro—in tiny cursive beneath the curve of your left breast, a claim he never gets tired of seeing.  

Your fingers drag gently through the hair at his nape, nails scratching lightly as you murmur, “Yumi missed you.” 

His thumb swipes over your bottom lip, calloused and rough—“‘Momma missed me too?”

You nod, just slightly, tilting your head with those fox eyes of yours—narrowed, knowing, stripping him bare of any lie he could try to spin.  

“Tell me what happened at work.”

His brow twitches, “You tellin’ me?”

You don’t argue. Just raise your brows, waiting.  

A beat. Then, with a sharp exhale, it spills—

“Men actin’ like goddamn children. Argued with me ‘bout the fence line—then one of ‘em nearly flipped the ATV ‘cause he wasn’t payin’ attention. ‘Whole damn day wasted fixin’ other people’s—” His voice deepens, slipping into sharp edged Japanese, “…Nande kon'na baka-domo to issho ni hatarakanakya naranē nda? Mattaku, kuso jikan'nomudada.” 

Why the hell do these idiots work for me? Total waste of fuckin’ time.

You stand on your tiptoes, pressing your thumb between his brows again, smoothing the crease there as you answer him—fluent, just like he taught you. 

“Son'nani ikatteiru to, fukeru no ga hayamarimasu yo.” 

You’ll age faster being so angry.

He pauses, nostrils flaring—before he lets out a sharp exhale, forehead dropping against yours.  

"...Goddamn, woman. ‘Always knowin’ how to shut me up.” 

You hum, pressing closer.  

“So that’s why you keep me around?” 

“Nah. Keep you ‘cause you’re mine.” 

You hum, fingertips tracing the corded muscle below his neck, your touch featherlight. 

“Did talking about it help?" 

His jaw flexes, “You want me to lie?" 

“I’d rather you be honest, Fushiguro.” 

A rough exhale escapes him, “I’m on the news tomorrow? ‘Know I killed one of those bastards." 

You know he doesn’t mean it—but the frustration is real, simmering beneath his skin like an untamed storm. So you tease just a little, trying to loosen the tension coiling in his shoulders—“Fussier than a baby, ‘swear." 

That gets you a glare—"Nowhere near a damn child."  

You react before he can pull away, fingers tangling in the dark strands of his hair, holding him just firm enough to ground him.

“Hey," you murmur, voice softening, “I was just pokin’, love. Yeah?" 

He stares down at you, that perpetual scrawl of his features more habit than anger now. After a beat, he nods.  

You press on, voice a gentle lull. 

“Rough days are inevitable…but there’s your favorite meal to look forward to. And cuddles from me an’ Yumi." 

His expression doesn’t change.  

"Or," you offer, tilting your head, “I could rub your ear  ‘like you like?” 

Something shifts in his gaze then—dark, heavy. He looks at you—really looks. That sweet, sultry face he’s seen crumble beneath him, twist in pleasure, pout in frustration. It all hits him at once, a wave of something possessive and hungry that makes his fingers flex against your waist.  

And in response?  

“Yeah." 

A single word. Deceptively simple.  

Because you did rub his ear, sure—but what you didn’t expect?  

Was ending up bouncing stupidly on his cock in the process.  

Now, here you are—hair a mess of copper, cinnamon, and black curls, wild like a halo around your flushed face, the flannel hanging open, barely clinging to your shoulders. The fabric dips, revealing the sinful swell of your tits, the heavy weight of them barely contained by the parted material. Your fuzzy socks—adorable, ridiculous in contrast to the filth of this moment—curl helplessly into the bedsheets as you struggle to steady yourself.  

Your thighs ache, burning from the relentless pace he’s set, but you barely feel it. Not when he’s got his hands wrapped around your waist, his fingers so big they nearly touch when he grips you—effortlessly hauling you up, then slamming you back down, forcing you to take every inch of him.  

“F—Fushiguro—!" 

You choke on his name as he pulls you all the way up, the slick length of him just about to slip free before he yanks you back down, letting his dick carve straight into your g-spot with every punishing thrust.  

And the worst part?  

He hasn’t even undressed.

Leaned back against the vintage headboard, still in his dirt-streaked wifebeater—tugged halfway up to reveal the hard planes of his abs, ink-dark tattoos trailing down the cut of his V-line. The roughness of his pubic hair grinds against your clit with every brutal snap of your hips, the friction almost too much, threatening to push you over the edge before he even lets you.  

And his face— 

Dark brows pulled low, storm gray eyes locked on you with an intensity that borders on cruel. He watches you with that same scowl, like you mean nothing to him in this moment—just a warm, trembling hole for him to use, fucking you with ruthless precision.  

He leans back, the muscles in his arms flexing as he lifts you again, dragging you down onto his cock with a sharp snap of his hips.  

“C’mon," he growls, voice rough with restraint—“Keep fuckin’ feelin’ me.”

You’re silent—trying to be—but your pussy isn’t.  

Loud. Obscene. Creaming around him in thick, slippery pulses, gushing with every brutal snap of his hips. The sound of it—wet, filthy, shameful—fills the space between your ragged breaths. Your lips stay pressed together, but your expression betrays you—eyebrows pinched, a cute little frown twisting your face as pleasure burns through you, sharp and unforgiving.  

Discomfort. Overstimulation. The kind of pleasure that hurts, that makes your toes curl and your stomach clench. Because god, the way he stretches you—thick, unrelenting, carving into you like he was made to ruin you.  

The worst part? He knows.  

Knows that in places where you’re soft, silent, observant—here, like this? You’re a mouthy little thing when he gets you there. Which is exactly why he cocks his hand back, fingers tangling in the back of your flannel, yanking you down harder on his cock before—  

SMACK. 

The sharp, stinging crack of his palm against your ass echoes through the room, your flesh jiggling from the impact, the heat of it blooming fast.  

“Ain't hearin’ shit from you," he growls. 

“C’mon. Gimme’ somethin’.”  

The rough clap of your thighs against his hips—hard, frantic, skin slapping skin—does something to you. Your eyes flutter shut, your fingers sinking into his forearms, claws digging in as a whiny little cry punches out of you.  

It’s a domino effect afterwards. A whimper slips free, trembling, desperate, and then another—another, slurring into heavier, broken whines, like you’re trying to swallow them back every time they threaten to escape. But you can’t. Not when he’s like this—when his thighs are so thick, his grip so bruising, when he makes you fuck him like he hates you.  

“There it is,” he grunts, fingers tightening around your waist, hauling you down harder, heavier. 

“‘Know my wife more than anyone in this fuckin’ world.”

You're an eye-rolling, pouting, mess. 

His mess. Your pussy keeps gushing, clenching forcefully around the thick swell of his cock, kicking off a series of unfinished, half-shattered orgasms that leave you spiraling—dizzy, overwhelmed, ruined.  

Tears brim your dark, pretty eyes, lashes sticking together as broken little whimpers spill from your lips.  

“I'm—‘M cumming.” 

But Toji? He doesn’t stop. 

His grip tightens, digging into the softness of your hips as he finds a devastating new rhythm. Slower now, but heavier. Louder. Each deep, punishing thrust drags a wet, filthy sound from where you’re stretched around him, the slap of skin echoing through the room.  

And the scent of him—god. 

Woodsmoke, leather, the erotic musk of a hard day’s work still clinging to his clothes, swallowing you whole even as he lounges beneath you, lazily using your body to chase his own pleasure.  

“Wanted me to feel better, ‘ain’t you?" 

His palm lands against your ass again—hard—the sharp crack reverberating through your bones before he spreads you open with that same rough hand, exposing your flushed, dripping cunt as he starts fucking up into you with renewed force.  

“Gonna fuck you ‘til every nut makes me less angry," he grunts, fingers biting into your flesh—“Had a hard fuckin’ day, remember?" 

You lean forward, sniffling pathetically, nodding in meek submission—like you’ve lost a game you never even meant to play.  

“Okay," you squeak, voice surrendering, small.  

His teeth flash in a wicked grin.  

“Atta fuckin’ girl." 

And then he takes—pounding up into you with a brutal pace that has you muffling trembling little moans into the crook of your arm, body jolting with every deep, claiming thrust. 

Toji slides his broad palm against the top of your head, fingers threading through your curls as he tilts your face up to meet his heavy-lidded gaze. 

“You here with me?" 

You nod, and that's all he needs before he tugs you forward by your hair, sealing your mouth with his in a deep, tongue-filled kiss. It's filthy, possessive, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip before he pulls back just as swiftly.  

And then—SMACK. 

His palm meets your cheek with enough force to make your breath hitch, just sharp enough to snap you back into focus. 

“Fill your fuckin' mouth up.”

You sink down instantly, taking him between your lips with breathless little whimpers, your lashes fluttering as you suck him in deep. You pull back just enough to kitten lick along his length, teasing the flushed tip before swirling your tongue around it. Then lower—sucking his heavy balls into your mouth, your fingers lightly jerking the base of him.  

It's adorable in the most pathetic way—how easily you obey when you're usually all quiet fire and defiance. But like this? You're truly his.

Toji watches as you work him over—his cock glistening with your spit, your lips stretched around him. Then he takes himself in hand, slapping his length against your flushed cheek, dragging it over your lips with a filthy, wet sound.  

“Look at you," he grunts, voice rough with satisfaction.  

And he does look—drinking in the sight of your dark, caramel skin flushed raw, your pretty eyes swollen with tears, your lips parted and trembling. It makes him crave more.  

“C'mere," he growls suddenly, gripping your waist before flipping you both in one swift motion—your back now pressed to his chest, his thighs bracketing your head as he maneuvers you into a 69. 

The second you're settled, he buries his face between your thighs with a groan, his tongue devouring you. You gasp, trying to refocus, wrapping your lips around his cock again—but it's impossible to concentrate when he's sucking on your clit like he's starved, his tongue dragging hot and wet through your folds, slurping obscenely. Your hips jerk, back arching as pleasure zings through you, your forehead dropping against his hip as you whimper around him.  

“Focus, baby.”

He mutters this against your cunt—right before his hand comes down on your ass again, the sharp SMACK making you jolt.  A broken moan slips past your lips, and then you're bobbing your head faster, hollowing your cheeks as you suck him back into your mouth with desperate, sloppy devotion.  

And Toji?  

He just feasts—grunting, licking, taking—his fingers digging into your hips as he fucks his tongue inside you, making sure you feel every second of it.  

You don’t stand a chance.

The air is thick with the sound of skin on skin, your breath ragged and wet as you lose yourself in the rhythm of him. You move without thought, drunk on the taste of him, the weight of him on your tongue—both palms wrapped tight around the base of his cock, jerking him from root to tip in slow, filthy strokes. Your tits bounce with every movement, swaying heavy and lewd as you work him over in a way that’s downright pornographic, your body moving like it was made just for this.  

Toji’s hips twitch, his breath catching when you suddenly take just the head of him into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the swollen tip while your small hands take care of the rest. His head knocks back against the headboard with a low groan, his voice rough, strained, as he mutters something under his breath—half curse, half praise—before his hand comes down again, another sharp SMACK landing on your ass.  

“Edge of the bed. Now.”

You crawl there on shaky knees, face pressing into the blankets, ass up—presented, waiting—and before you can even brace yourself, he’s sinking into you, stretching you open in a way that punches a muffled whine from your throat. His fingers tangle in the nape of your hair, tugging just enough to make your back arch as he yanks you back onto him, filling you to the hilt with a single brutal thrust. Your face stays buried in the blankets, lips pouting, muffling little whimpers and breathless complaints—but they’re weak, half-hearted, lost in the haze of pleasure as he starts moving, fucking into you with rough, measured strokes.  

“Fussin’ just like Yumi," he growls, voice thick as you tuck your face deeper into the sheets, hiding the way your cheeks burn. 

“Tch—feet closer to your chest.”

He rasps this, voice gravel-scraped and impatient. You whimper but obey, knees pressing tight to your body, hips lifted higher—exposed, helpless. Then, in Japanese, sharp and commanding—

“Jibun no handan de ugoite kudasai.”

Move on your own. 

And you do.  

At first, it's slow—tentative—your hips rocking back and forth in small, uncertain motions, your body arching as you try to find the right angle. The sight of you like this—spread open, trembling, taking him—is obscene. Erotic in the rawest sense.  

His fingers snap once, sharply. Another order, another growled phrase—“Head up.” 

You just obey, lifting your face from the sheets, breath ragged as you look back over your shoulder at him.  

“If you don’t move, I’ll show you how I wanna’ be fucked.” 

You pout—lips trembling, eyes wet—but then you start moving again.  

Little bounces at first, your ass clapping lightly against his hips—gentle, testing. Then deeper. Faster. More. Until you’re fully fucking yourself on him, your body taking over, driven by instinct, by the need to please. His fingers tighten in your hair, holding you in place as you pant, as you whimper—  

“…M’sorry, baby." 

It slips out without thought, weak and breathless.  

Toji only grunts, “Yeah?” 

You don’t even know what you’re apologizing for. But you say it again, lips quivering. 

“M’sorry—"

You’re squirting. 

A hot, sudden gush, spilling around him without warning, your body convulsing as pleasure rips through you. The words turn into something else—deep, shuddering sobs, your voice breaking as you keep repeating it, "M’sorry, m’sorryyy...” 

Your husband? He could care less. 

Toji fucks you through it. His grip on your hair tightens, his hips snapping up to meet yours as you sob, as you tremble, as you fall apart. 

Because this? This is how he takes his anger out.

The world narrows to nothing but the brutal snap of his hips, the sound of skin meeting skin in sharp, wet slaps. Toji yanks your legs out from under you, planting your feet flat on the floor—forcing your spine into a deep arch, your ass tilted up just right for him to sink into you even deeper, each thrust punching the air from your lungs.  

You can’t help the noises that tear out of you—loud, broken, punched out moans that rise higher with every merciless drive of his cock. His fist tightens in your hair so everlasting, wrenching your head back as he growls above you, the sound rough and satisfied—because nothing pleases him more than hearing you unravel, your voice frayed beyond coherency.  

Your fingers clutch at the sheets, knuckles white—until he tsks, a single sharp sound of disapproval that has you scrambling to correct yourself before he can fuss. Arms straight back, wrists together, like you know what he wants without him even saying it.  His free hand wraps around both your wrists in one brutal grip, pinning them against the small of your back as he drives you into the mattress, fucking you so deep you squeal, high and desperate, your body jerking beneath him.  

“Fuckkkk…!” 

It’s a shriek, really—raw and guttural, your cunt gushing around him as he pistons in and out, his grunts syncing with your cries in a filthy, primal rhythm. He’s not gentle. Not close. Every snap of his hips is punishing, claiming, his cock dragging against that sweet spot inside you until you’re keening, your thighs shaking, your mind gone beneath the sheer intensity of it.  

And then—  

His rhythm stutters.  

A deep, guttural growl rips from his throat, his fingers tightening hard in your hair as he buries himself to the hilt, spilling inside you in thick, pulsing ropes. Your sounds drown his—whimpers, choked cries, the way your body clenches around him as if trying to milk every last drop.  

For a moment, there’s nothing but the sound of heavy breathing—his, yours—both ragged and uneven.  

Then he slowly pulls out, leaving you limp beneath him, your lower body trembling, your nerves still alight with aftershocks.  Toji catches his breath for a beat—just one—before he leans down over you, his voice rough but soft now, murmured against your ear in Japanese.  

“Daijōbudesuka?”

You alright? 

His hand cups your throat from behind, tilting your face toward his. And then—kisses. Tiny, chaste pecks against your swollen lips, one after another, as if checking that you’re still with him.  

You let out a breathless little giggle, your lashes fluttering.  

“Mmm...legs feel numb." 

He hums. 

“They should.” 

The moment his hands twist you around, your breath catches—but it melts into another light giggle as he scoops you up effortlessly, depositing you onto the bed like something precious. The sheets are cool against your overheated skin, a stark contrast to the burning imprint of his body still lingering on yours.  

And then he looks at you. 

His fingers slide through your hair again, slower this time, almost reverent, before his mouth finds yours in a kiss that’s startlingly gentle. You nudge your nose against his, affectionate, lingering, before you pull back just enough to murmur—  

“…‘Gonna have a better day at work tomorrow?" 

Sweet. Hopeful.  

Toji rumbles, the sound vibrating deep in his chest as he presses a kiss to your forehead—“Already havin’ a better day now." 

Your eyes dilate at that, lashes fluttering as you whisper—"Really?" 

“Murder’s still in question for ‘them employees, though.” 

Your face falls immediately, lips pressing into a pout as you sigh, long suffering. Before you can protest, his palm lands on your thigh—a light, teasing smack—and then he’s pushing off the bed, leaving you sprawled there. You scramble to grab his discarded flannel, draping it over yourself like a makeshift shield before flipping your hair back with an exaggerated huff.  

“You’re hardheaded!” 

“Got a hard head, baby.” 

You suck your teeth. 

But then? he reappears in the doorway, Yumi cradled in his big arms. 

The whiplash of it nearly gives you an actual headache. One second, he’s got you bent over the bed, fucking you like you owe him money, and the next? He’s holding that Persian kitten like it’s spun glass, cooing at her in a voice three octaves higher than you’ve ever heard come out of his mouth.  

You roll your eyes so hard you swear you see your own brain.  

“You don’t talk to me like that.”  

Toji ignores you, of course. Because why would he ever acknowledge the way your metaphorical tail is swishing back and forth in irritation? He’s too busy booping Yumi’s tiny pink nose, murmuring, “Momma’s the fussy one, isn’t she? Yeah?" 

“Boy, please. I don’t win the hot head award. You’re an overachiever for that score." 

He just smirks—smirks!—as he sets Yumi down on the bed, watching with that stupid, smug expression as she prances toward the headboard like the little princess she is, tail held high as she lets out a dignified Mrrow. 

One second you’re lounging there, all sass and post coital glow—the next, he’s on you, knocking you flat onto your back in the sheets with a oomph that dissolves into breathless giggles as you shove at his chest.  

“Go away!"

He doesn’t.  

“You know how much I love you?"

You tilt your head, pretending to think. 

“Not sure."

The air between you shifts—just for a heartbeat—from playful to something deeper, something heavier. His rough fingers catch yours, and he brings your hand up, pressing a slow, almost reverent kiss to the gold band on your finger. Against the metal, he murmurs something low and raw—something that sounds suspiciously like—“Mines forever." 

You sigh, but it's a warm sound, your fingers curling around his, intertwining like they were made to fit there. Playfully, you squeeze.  

“Hungry?"

He exhales through his nose, “Been thinkin' about those red beans all day."

You bat your lashes, feigning innocence. 

“I wasn't part of the meal plan?" 

His thumb drags over your pulse point as he leans in, breath hot against your ear, “You were the meal plan."  

Then, just like that, he's hauling you up—one arm under your thighs, the other bracing your back as he tosses you halfway over his shoulder like you weigh nothing. You yelp, but your legs lock around his waist instinctively, arms looping his neck as he starts moving.  

“C'mon. I'm starvin'."

You press your lips to his jaw, nipping just to feel him tense—“You're starvin’, and you love me?" 

He grunts—but for him? It’s not a denial. It’s yes, a thousand times over. 

And just like that, the scene fades—into the quiet hum of domesticity, into love and passion and marriage with all its rough edges and sweet, stolen moments.  

[moralisist]

do you guys want next fic to be aot or jjk men based ? 🤔🤔

jjk men

aot men

Voting ended onJul 19

lmk!!

[syllysmot]

You know I'm spending every last minute in that class

[moralisist]

no i need him

[pinkylemon8]

oh no! you can’t pay rent this month…

✩ characters involved: Eren, Levi, Armin, Connie, Jean, Reiner

✩ content: based off of the silly tiktok trend, mostly fluff and crack, suggestive comments in Reiner’s but very tame

Eren

Levi

Armin

Connie

Jean

Reiner

⋆⭒˚｡⋆authors note: once again i suck major fucking ass at writing eren… the main character but the hardest to write, make it make sense.

[freakynad]

you’re armin arlert’s favourite muse ❤︎ sfw

gentle strokes of neutral hues painted on the white canvas, armin’s brush followed the natural shadows cast by the shadows of the trees outside, filtering through leaves and tracing gentle patterns over your face, highlighting your features.

you sat upon the wooden stool, your eyes tilted towards your portrait armin once painted that you simply could not help but adore— the painting consisted of greens and shades of pink and you as the subject of the painting. it was a reflection of a beautiful morning in the early spring where you wore a floral dress that seemed to belong amongst the roses around you.

you were armin’s favourite muse, the only one anyway.

he loved that every portrait looked different yet somehow each one felt unmistakably like you, the glisten in your eyes only he could visualise, the subtle curve of your smile, the way he was the only one who felt your soft brown skin under his cold fingers and your soft curls that carried the scent of vanilla that always lingered on his linen shirts, marking him in a way.

yet that wasn’t the favourite part of you, he knew your soul. words cannot explain the gentleness within you, the kind of purity that made him believe the devil itself would hesitate to reach you in fear of becoming pure.

sometimes, a thought would linger in his head, wondering if you saved him.

one blissful peck on the lips changed him in whole, as if his soul has been restored to something softer, that day, armin alert had reborn and that was his first day on earth and you taught him love.

he watched you behind his blonde lashes, unaware of how obvious his admiration to you was, his exhales growing shallow, his attention drifting towards you instead of the canvas.

feeling his warm gaze, you turned your eyes towards his.

“you’re staring..”

you pointed out, lips threatening to curve into a cheeky smile, watching his cheek flush instantly, turning his attention back to the painting and his hands moved across the canvas.

“well i am painting you” he murmured, as if the answer was evident, “i have to look at you, don’t i?”

a chuckle of amusement escaped you.

you knew he wasn’t the convincing liar yet you didn’t tease him, however the subtle tilt of your lips could not be helped, gaze wandering back to the other hanged paintings on the white crowded room, half of the paintings had been covered with a sheer brown cloth waiting to be sold, while other projects were abandoned.

he had better priorities, lately they happened to be you.

he once more picked up his wooden paint brush and continued an steady motion across the empty spaces of the canvas, your legs grew heavy for how long you’ve been sat on the chair without any support to your back, yet you didn’t complain once.

the sun slowly began to set behind the windows, the room growing dimmer, by the time the stars began to shine against your brown skin, armin stepped away from the painting in awe.

“would you like to see?” he tilted his head towards you in question, you hummed under your breath in response and walked towards the painting, eyes meeting the portrait of yourself for the first time.

armin tends to see something you never see in yourself, your little dimples that appear when you truly smile, the star kissed moles on your body, the slight imperfection on your skin, that softness that was hidden in the corner of your eyes.

your heart skipped a beat, tilting your head to armin.

“you never fail to amaze me, my love.” you muttered in awe, yet he was still captured by you, a soft smile settled on his lips.

“i could say the same about you.” his voice was low, intimate and intentional. it was hard not to kiss him right then and there, manicured fingers tangling on his blonde locks as he leaned onto your touch.

it was a sacred kiss — to him — something he only believed he should earn when he deserved it, he was filled with gratitude to have you, his soul was home again.

© 𝒇reakynad is speaking . . . spent my early morning writing this instead of doomscrolling, i’ve never tried this writing style before so i hope it isn’t too bad </3

[alaiasole]

pretty wife problems.

→ eren x black fem reader | fluff | established relationship + married au

synopsis: eren knows his wife is beautiful. he’s reminded of it constantly on this bali trip especially when other people notice too. a flirty tour guide at mount batur has him feeling a little possessive.

warnings: light jealousy, married couple fluff, explicit smut, riding, unprotected sex, creampie, squirting, dirty talk

a/n: this for @cheesesticksandhoney i hope you like it <333 i also got inspiration from the song jealous by nick jonas as requested

eren knows he has a beautiful wife

he knows.

but that doesn’t stop the quiet twist in his chest every time someone else notices it too.

this bali trip was supposed to be just the two of you sun-soaked days, quiet nights, and zero responsibilities. instead, eren keeps getting reminded how stunning you are, and how the rest of the world sees it just as clearly.

today’s first excursion is mount batur. the air is warm and humid, thick with the scent of earth and distant incense from nearby temples. volcanic steam rises in soft curls against the bright sky as your group makes its way up the trail. you’re practically glowing beside him, eyes wide with curiosity, leggings hugging your curves and one of his oversized shirts tied at your waist.

the tour guide some tall, friendly guy with an easy smile keeps talking, pointing out different rock formations.

“mount batur is still an active volcano,” he explains. “it last erupted in 2000, but the caldera lake below us is over a thousand years old. the balinese people consider this place sacred home to the goddess of the lake, dewi danu.”

you tilt your head, genuinely fascinated. “wait, so people actually cook breakfast with the steam from the volcano?”

the guide laughs warmly. “yes! you’ll see when we get closer to the top. the locals use the geothermal heat to boil eggs and even make babi guling sometimes. it’s one of the coolest things about living near an active volcano.”

“oh my god, that’s so cool.”

eren glances over at you. you’re asking question after question, completely in your element, and the guide is happily answering every single one. he can’t even be annoyed at that. you get excited over everything, and it’s one of the things he loves most about you.

still…

the guy sure is smiling a lot.

the trail gets steeper. loose rocks shift underfoot.

“careful,” the guide says, reaching a hand toward you as the path narrows. “this part can be tricky. the volcano’s last major eruption in 1963 actually reshaped a lot of this landscape.”

before eren can step forward, you’ve already taken the offered hand for half a second to steady yourself over the uneven ground.

“…thanks!”

“my pleasure.”

eren stares at the back of the guide’s head.

really?

he knows it’s literally the man’s job. he knows. doesn’t mean he has to enjoy watching another guy hold your hand even for a second.

i was right there.

i have hands too.

very capable hands.

you dust the dirt off your leggings and continue walking like nothing happened, already asking another question about the temple at the base of the mountain and its connection to the volcano’s spiritual significance.

eren catches up quickly, slipping his arm around your waist and pulling you a little closer than necessary.

the next day, eren told himself yesterday was just yesterday.

one overly friendly guide. a coincidence. that was all.

today would be better.

you guys are visiting uluwatu temple dramatic cliffs, ocean views, and ancient balinese architecture perched high above the sea. the air smelled like salt and frangipani, and the sun warmed everything in that perfect bali glow.

eren wanted to enjoy it. he really did.

but the moment the new guide greeted the group and somehow ended up walking right beside you within the first five minutes, that familiar pout started creeping back in.

“…and this part here,” the guide said, smiling warmly at you, “is one of the oldest sections of the temple. it survived multiple earthquakes and even a major fire in the 1800s.”

you looked up in awe, eyes sparkling. “seriously? it’s still standing after all this time?”

“it is. the balinese believe the gods protect it.”

“that’s so beautiful.”

eren watched the exchange from half a step behind.

of course.

you asked another question about the monkey forest nearby and the temple’s connection to the sea goddess. the guide answered enthusiastically, walking a little closer than eren liked.

you smiled.

the guide smiled back.

eren looked away, pinching the bridge of his nose.

not again.

as the group continued through the temple grounds, he caught more people glancing your way. some looked twice. one guy nearly walked into a low stone wall because he was too busy staring. another tourist fumbled his phone while looking at you trying to take it out of his pocket.

eren sighed internally.

i know she’s beautiful.

trust me. i know.

but does everybody else have to know too?

without saying a word, he slipped his fingers between yours, holding your hand a little tighter than usual.

you looked over at him. “hm?”

“nothing.”

“you sure?”

“yep.”

five minutes later, his arm had found its way around your shoulders. a few minutes after that, he leaned down and pressed a lingering kiss to your cheek while the guide was busy explaining another shrine.

you laughed softly. “what was that for?”

“felt like it.”

you tilted your head, studying him. “you’ve been really clingy today.”

“i have not.”

“you literally haven’t let go of my hand since we got here.”

“…it’s crowded.”

“eren.”

“what?”

you smiled to yourself, squeezing his hand. “you’re jealous.”

“i’m observant.”

“mm-hmm.”

“i’m protecting my wife.”

“from who?”

he glanced around at the handful of tourists pretending not to stare, at the guide who kept finding reasons to talk directly to you.

“…everybody.”

you bit back a laugh, leaning into his side as you kept walking. eren’s arm stayed firmly around you, his thumb brushing your waist in slow, possessive circles.

he knew he was being a little ridiculous.

but with the way the sunlight kissed your skin and the ocean breeze played with your hair, making you look like you belonged on the cover of a romance novel… he couldn’t help it.

my wife.

mine.

and he was more than happy to remind the entire island of that today.

back at the villa, the afternoon light filtered softly through the open balcony doors, carrying the sound of waves and the faint scent of frangipani.

eren had already showered. he sat on the edge of the bed in nothing but loose black shorts, elbows on his knees, replaying the last two days in his head.

she’s beautiful. of course people look.

it’s not her fault.

it’s really not a big deal… right?

he tried to calm himself down. people look at pretty women. that’s just life. as long as no one actually approached her she was his wife, after all it shouldn’t matter.

but the more he thought about it, the more it irritated him. the smiles. the lingering glances. the way that guide kept finding reasons to stand next to her.

damn.

he ran a hand over his face, sighing.

the bathroom door opened.

you stepped out, skin still glowing from the shower, wrapped in a soft white robe. your boho braids were pulled up into a bun framing your face. you looked effortlessly beautiful relaxed, warm, and completely his.

eren lost his train of thought completely.

“whoa…”

you caught his stare and smiled, tilting your head. “what?”

he didn’t answer right away. just drank you in. then he leaned forward a little on the edge of the bed.

“come here.”

you walked over slowly, stopping between his spread legs. eren looked up at you like you were the only thing in the world.

“wow,” he murmured, hands sliding up the back of your thighs.

you leaned down and kissed him softly. he kissed you back, deep and slow, one hand cupping the side of your face.

you pulled back just enough to tease, “you like what you see?”

“yeah… i do.” his voice was low, sincere. “i love what i see.”

you raised an eyebrow, still smiling. “you don’t feel any type of way anymore?”

eren let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “hell no. i know i see you every day. i know i’m the one married to you.”

“mhm. thought so.”

you kissed him again, deeper this time. eren groaned softly into your mouth, hands tightening on your thighs. as the kiss grew hotter, you stood up straighter between his legs. he reached for the tie of your robe and gave it a gentle tug. the robe slipped open and fell to the floor in a soft heap, leaving you completely naked in front of him.

“oh my gosh…” he breathed, eyes roaming over your body like he was seeing you for the first time. “baby…”

you giggled, feeling both shy and powerful under his gaze. you pushed gently on his chest until he leaned back on the bed. then you climbed on top of him, straddling his lap.

eren’s hands immediately went to your ass, gripping firmly as you leaned down to kiss him again. the kiss turned messy fast tongues sliding, breaths mingling, little moans escaping. you started grinding slowly on him, feeling how hard he already was under the thin fabric of his shorts. he wasn’t wearing anything underneath, and the friction made both of you groan.

“fuck…” he muttered against your lips, hands squeezing your ass as he guided your movements, rocking you against him harder.

you kept grinding, rolling your hips in slow, deliberate circles while making out with him like you had all the time in the world. his shorts did nothing to hide how much he wanted you. every roll of your hips pulled desperate little sounds from both of you.

eren kissed you like he was trying to pour every bit of that lingering jealousy and love into it deep, hungry, and completely wrapped up in you.

you kept grinding on him, rolling your hips in slow, teasing circles, feeling how hard and ready he was beneath the thin fabric of his shorts. the friction was driving both of you crazy.

with a soft, mischievous smile, you reached down and tugged his shorts down. eren lifted his hips to help you, groaning as his cock sprang free, thick and heavy against his stomach.

“oh shit…” he breathed, eyes dark as he watched you.

you wrapped your hand around him, stroking slowly a few times before lining him up. you sank down inch by inch, gasping at the stretch. he was so big you had to pause halfway, breathing through the intense fullness, adjusting to the way he filled you completely.

“easy, baby,” eren murmured, hands gripping your hips. “take your time. that’s it… just like that. you feel so fucking good already.”

once you were fully seated, you stayed there for a moment, both of you breathing hard, foreheads pressed together. then you started to ride him.

slow at first. deep rolls of your hips that had you moaning softly. eren groaned, head falling back against the bed as he helped guide you, hands squeezing your ass.

“fuck, look at you,” he rasped, voice low and wrecked. “riding me so pretty. you like how deep i am, baby? huh?”

“yes… oh my, eren,” you moaned, eyes rolling back as you picked up the pace. every bounce sent sparks through your whole body. he felt incredible thick, hard, hitting every perfect spot.

he started helping you more, bouncing you on his dick with strong hands, thrusting up to meet you. the wet, filthy sounds of skin slapping filled the room along with your moans.

“that’s my girl,” he groaned, eyes locked on where you two were connected. “look at you taking all of me. so wet… so fucking tight. you’re creaming all over me, baby. shit.”

your head fell back, moans getting louder as the pleasure built fast. eren sat up slightly, one arm wrapping around your waist to pull you closer, sucking on your neck while he fucked you harder from below.

“you close already?” he whispered hotly against your skin. “i can feel you squeezing me. go ahead, baby. cum on this dick. let me feel it.”

you came hard with a broken cry of his name, body shaking as waves of pleasure crashed through you. eren groaned at the feeling of you pulsing around him, but he didn’t stop he fucked you through it, drawing out every last tremor.

before you could catch your breath, he flipped you over onto your back. he hovered over you, eyes dark and hungry.

eren pushed back inside you in one smooth thrust, your legs folding up toward your chest as he leaned over you. he started pounding into you deep and hard, the new angle making you see stars.

“oh—” you moaned, hands flying up to grip the back of his neck. his head dropped to your shoulder, lips brushing your skin as he fucked you relentlessly.

“feel so good,” he groaned against your neck. “this pussy is mine, baby. all mine.”

your moans turned into desperate cries. the pressure built fast again, overwhelming and intense. eren could feel it the way you clenched around him, the way your nails dug into his shoulders.

“you’re close again, aren’t you?” he panted. “go ahead, baby. cum for me. squirt on this dick. i want to feel it.”

you came hard, squirting around him with a loud, broken moan. your whole body shook as the orgasm ripped through you. eren pulled out just in time, stroking himself fast as he watched you fall apart.

“shit—fuck, you look so good,” he groaned, head tilted back, muscles flexing as he stroked himself over you.

he came with a deep, guttural moan, thick ropes of cum landing across your breasts and stomach. he kept stroking himself through it, breathless and sexy, until he was spent.

for a moment, the only sounds in the room were your heavy breathing.

eren looked down at you, eyes soft and full of love despite the heat.

“damn, baby…” he whispered, leaning down to kiss you slow and deep.

eren pulled back from the kiss, breathing hard, eyes soft and full of love as he stared down at you. for a second, everything felt perfect just the two of you, tangled and warm.

then you wrinkled your nose.

“ew, eren,” you laughed, pushing lightly at his chest. “wipe your cum off of me. i literally just showered and now i’m all sticky!”

he blinked, then burst out laughing, the sound deep and genuine.

“my bad, baby,” he said, still chuckling as he went get a warm cloth in the bathroom.

“i got you.”

he cleaned you up carefully, gentle and thorough, pressing soft kisses to your stomach and between your breasts as he went. once you were clean, he went into the bathroom washing the cloth hanging it ,he came back laying on the bed next to you

holding you close against his chest.

you nestled into him, legs tangled, one hand resting over his heart.

after a comfortable silence, you tilted your head up. “you not jealous anymore?”

eren smiled, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “nah. i’m good.”

“you sure?”

“yeah. i know who you come home to every night.”

you both stayed quiet for a moment, just enjoying the sound of the ocean outside and each other’s warmth.

then eren’s voice broke the silence again, a little too casual.

“…but real talk though. did you think that guide was cute?”

you pulled back just enough to look at him, eyes wide. “eren! oh my gosh.”

he grinned, trying (and failing) to look innocent. “what? i’m just asking.”

you laughed, swatting his chest. “you are so annoying. no, i did not think he was cute. i was literally just asking questions.”

“mhm.”

“you’re jealous again already?”

“i’m not jealous,” he said, pulling you back down and burying his face in your neck. “i’m… observant.”

you giggled, wrapping your arms around him tighter. “yeah, okay, observant.”

eren smiled against your skin, holding you like he never wanted to let go.

“that’s my wife,” he mumbled happily.

and just like that, with your laughter filling the room and the bali breeze drifting through the open doors, everything felt exactly right.

[erenlav]

husband!satoru when you keep kissing his face when he’s talking

satoru loved hearing himself talk. which was unfortunate for you. because once he started talking, he never seemed to stop.

today’s topic happened to be something about a movie he had watched yesterday. you had stopped paying attention five minutes ago.

“and then the guy looks at him and actually-“ 

you leaned over and kissed his cheek. satoru paused. “…anyway,” he continued. “then he was like-”

another kiss. this time a little closer to the corner of his mouth. he blinked. “are you listening?”

you nodded. “mhm.”

“good.” he continued. “so then-“

kiss.

his sentence died immediately. you tried not to smile. “what was that for?” he asks, pouty.

you shrugged. “wanted to.”

satoru stared at you for a second before continuing. “right. as i was saying-“

kiss.

“hey.”

kiss.

“seriously.”

kiss.

you could see him fighting back a smile.

“you know,” he says, trying to sound annoyed, “most wives let their husbands finish speaking.”

you hummed. “i’m not most wives.” 

he rolled his eyes. “obviously.”

satoru tried one last time. “so the movie ends and-“

you grabbed his face and kissed the tip of his nose. silence. he stared at you. you stared back.

“…forgot what i was talking about.”

you smiled. “finally.”

“don’t sound so happy.”

he wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you into his lap. “you did that on purpose.”

“did what?”

“made me forget.”

you smiled innocently. “i have no idea what you’re talking about.”

satoru narrowed his eyes. then immediately kissed your cheek.

once. twice. three times.

until you were laughing and trying to push him away. “okay, okay!”

“no,” he said, grinning against your skin. “i wasn’t finished talking.”

“you literally forgot.”

“details.”

he kissed your forehead. then your cheek. then the corner of your mouth.

“will you ever let me talk?” he asks.

you kiss him to shut him up, wrapping your hands around his neck. his arms wrap around your waist, pulling you in closer. 

“okay i would actually rather kiss you than talk.” he smiles and pecks your lips.

you grin and smush his cheeks. “cuteness aggression….”

[bfbkg]

PROS AND CONS : BKG (2.3k)

bakugou finds a list you made before you dated him

“one. big cock and knows how to use it. two and it’s in all caps. EATER.”

you rest on your forearms on your sofa, looking across the living room to your boyfriend who has appeared from your bedroom. he’s reading a crumpled sheet of paper from god knows where with a massive grin on his face.

“did you get the fan from my room? katsuki, it’s hot!” you whine petulantly. you've got your thin shorts and bralette on, trying to fight the heatwave that has taken over your city.

the heat has beat you down, left you stranded in your living room with three ice lolly packets in your path and skin sticky. you can feel the sweat trickle down your spine, you can see it gathered on katsuki’s exposed forehead, yet he still stands there reading.

“hold on, i’m lovin’ this,” he says, gold tooth shining as his mouth stretches wider, “three. rich and generous with it. is that right? you with me for my cock and money?”

you blink at him a few times, trying not to get distracted by his shirtless bare chest or the black headband he’s got on to push his unruly blonde locks back. he’s handsome, deliciously so. still, you think back to why everything he’s saying is so familiar.

“four. handsome. deliciously so. body and face. rare,” bakugou laughs, boyish and booming, “thanks, babe.”

you feel uncomfortable, perspiration dribbling between your breasts, limbs heavy with exhaustion.

“what is that? what are you reading?”

still bakugou ignores you and continues reading from the paper, “five. successful and ambitious. six. good friend even though he pretends he’s not. protective!! seven. so gentlemanly, holding open doors, paying for dates, very clear on why he likes me.” ruby pupils flicker over to you, “that last one is bare minimum.”

then it clicks, about seven points too late. your head snaps over to him robotically, eyes about to fall out of your head. “where the hell did you find that! stop reading it! stop katsuki!”

you hop up from your seat on your sofa, speed like no other taking over you as you run across the room to grab at the paper in bakugou’s hands. his laugh only booms louder, holding the flimsy sheet in the air over your head as you jump like a child.

“seriously, don’t read anymore!” you shout, trying to hoist yourself up his larger body, using his arms and shoulder as a climbing frame.

nothing about bakugou budges, he just continues reading with the paper in the air.

“it’s getting good, baby!” he laughs, ignoring your jumps and furrowed brows, “eight. listens to me. really listens. makes me feel heard and remembers what i say.”

he looks down at you, whose fingertips are slapping the bottom of the paper. you recognise it all too clearly now. the pink ruled lines, the edges ripped out from one of your old notebooks. your handwriting. “that’s cute. i still listen to you, don’t i?”

“you’re not now! give it back!”

“i’m almost done, two more,” bakugou says, hooking his arm behind your back to keep you locked close to him. you’re both sweaty and sticky. you’ve got no choice but to listen, “nine. cooks. such a good cook! you added five exclamation marks there. ten. fulfils some of my love languages. some?”

“now stop.” you urge. he can’t turn the paper around. he can’t.

bakugou pecks your forehead, his cheeks blushed with all the compliments. he continues skimming the list, rereading it. 

“so this is why you chose to date me, huh?” he looks down at you, pouts his lips, “c'mon gimme a kiss.”

if you just grab it out his hands, he won’t see the other side. with pros always comes—

he stops pouting at you.

“give me the paper. i wrote this all a few years ago!”

“if these are the pros, where’s the cons? you must have done a cons list.” 

you shake your head, side to side. he holds the paper away from you. the opposite side, the list of all your cons, written back at you. you loop out of his arm, trying to reach for it.

he notices you staring, eyes fixated and that’s when he flips the paper around. CONS in big red capital lettering.

“this is private! you weren’t meant to see this, you shouldn’t be snooping in my room!” you squeak but bakugou’s already half down the page, pupils running across every line like he’s in a race.

“one. WILL choose his job over me—,”

“well obviously, your job is to save the world!”

“two. odd relationship with his mother? but apparently it’s better than before.”

“it’s so much better now!”

bakugou’s eyebrows drop now, voice getting lower as he continues, “three. argumentative. argues with EVERYONE. his agency workers, the media and his friends.”

“i understand why you argue with them all now! it makes sense!”

“three. his job is terrifying.”

bakugou looks over to you, solemn narrowed eyes and you don’t have a positive word to say about that.

“it is, sometimes i don’t know if you’ll come home.”

“four. he doesn’t do much else besides work. all his friends are from work.” bakugou pinches his nose bridge, “really? you think that?”

“now i don’t! and i know they’re childhood friends and… and we do things together all the time. i know you love to read, game, you’ve got your lego. i didn’t know all of that then.”

“five. don’t know if my friends and family will understand.” bakugou steps away from you, “the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

you huff on the spot, “this was from when i met you! all they’ve seen of you is shouting and yelling on the television. they didn’t know how lovable you are. how well you treat me.”

bakugou looks at you, then back at the paper. scratches his head. “six. inexperienced with sex but it’s really cute. has never had a girlfriend?”

“but number one pro is that you know how to use it. obviously we’re experienced now, we know everything about each other,” you flick your finger between you and your boyfriend. 

“and the girlfriend comment? i can’t help the fact you’re my first.”

“no, i mean yes i know that. it was just a question as to why. it doesn’t mean anything to me now.”

“but it was a factor in whether you wanted to be my girlfriend,” he states.

“well, yeah,” you drawl, “i thought maybe there was a reason as to why. that’s all.”

bakugou raises his eyebrows, looks back at the sheet, “seven. doesn’t always have time for me. travels a lot for work.”

“that hasn’t changed.” bakugou grunts. it’s something he knows you struggle with while dating him. it’s even been a conversation you’ve had a few times throughout your relationship. quality time. you want to spend more time with him but he simply can’t. 

you sigh, grabbing his chin between your fingers so he looks directly at you. his eyes are half lidded, cheeks red and exhausted from the negativity and heat. “we’ve been through this. i’m still gonna stick by you, everything i love about you means more than all the things i find difficult.”

he takes your palm away from your face and squeezes it. but you can tell he’s feeling off. “the last one. eight, he’s surrounded by beautiful women all the time.”

“you’re with celebrities, pro heroes, socialites a lot,” you shrug, “that was jealousy on my part, nothing to do with you.”

“i don’t give a fuck about any of that.”

you nod sharply, “i know! i wrote this a while ago, two years even? a lot has changed.”

bakugou sighs from the pit of his stomach, then flings his head back in a huff. “fuck, baby.” he groans.

then he looks down at you, looking up at him.

“just wanna put it out there, that was private, you weren’t meant to see that, my opinions have now changed and i’m sure you had a mental pro con list for me. i just wrote mine down.”

bakugou folds the paper, “yeah, yeah, i get it. you hate my job that much, huh? it covered half of the fuckin’ cons.

“i also said i liked you were successful and ambitious.” you sit on the back of the sofa, crossing your arms. 

bakugou mirrors you standing, crossing his arms too. “but nothing about my job has changed since we’ve got together.”

you groan, leaning your head on your shoulder, “katsuki, i think you’re making problems out of nothing here.”

“you made a list of the problems with datin’ me.” he frowns, holding the folded paper between two fingers.

“and a list of the reasons why i wanted to date you. obviously the good reasons won if i’m with you now.” you glare at him with a sharp tone.

he begins to pace around the room, paper still in hand. a terrible sign. you watch as sweat trickles down his skin, body flush with heat.

“but, babe. the problems you’ve had with me from before we were dating are still problems now. i still don’t have time for you, you still are terrified every time i’m minutes late from a mission, you don’t think i’d choose you over my job and you don’t think i do anything but work.”

you moan aloud, “and i still want you despite that all. i get the world needs you, heck, i need you if i come across a villain. i don’t hate you for being a hero.”

he stops behind you, on the other side of the sofa, “i don’t want you to resent me when you realise you could have been with someone who does have more time for you, isn’t obsessed with their job, can put you first and doesn’t scare you.”

you hop off the sofa. leaning your forehead on his collarbone. “katsuki. i wouldn’t be here if i didn't want to be. i love you. i choose you everyday. i don’t want to argue with you.”

bakugou doesn’t touch you. there’s a shake to his voice, “i’m sorry i’m not better. i’m gonna try to be. just wait for me, fuck, maybe when i’m slower and the younger lot take over, they’ll need me less. it’s just now—,”

“it’s okay. you have time for me right now but you wanna argue with me," you pout up at him.

“you did put that i’m argumentative,” he looks away from you as your hands link around his neck. 

“look at me.”

shiny lava red pupils find you. you ground him, takes him out of the what ifs and the failures of his past and places him in the present with you. 

“i have dated bakugou katsuki for two years and i love him so much. i love how kind and generous he is, always putting his loved ones first. how he dedicates his life and body to saving the world. how even if he’s tired from a long week of working, he still comes over to cook me a three course meal because he wants to see me eat his food. who was so open and willing to change for me. to change his routines and learn my body. who is argumentative because he wants to make things right. who wanted so hard for my family and friends to love him and manages to see his mother once a week just to check up on her.”

you search in both his eyes and he’s listening, he always is.

“i can write an updated list for you, if you want.”

he shakes his head, stuffs his forehead into your neck and slowly pushes you down into the sofa. you laugh, his hands plastered into your waist as his body crushes you in the plush cushions ever so slightly.

“‘m sorry. i shouldn’t have read it. even though i enjoyed the pros.” he muffles, lips tickling your skin.

you tap his shoulder. “you shouldn’t have but it’s okay. i still need you to get my fan. it’s hot.”

“promise you’ll tell me if you want somethin’ to change between us. i’m not wakin’ up one day to you leavin’ me for a reason right under my nose.” he urges and you can see him pleading. the desperation for you to agree.

“promise. now you promise me.”

“course i promise. i couldn’t even fill out ten reasons as to why i hate you.”

“i didn't say i hate you. and sure you can. you hate my cold feet. you hate how i moan about my job. you hate how i hate your job. you hate how i always want a massage. you hate how i wait until the last minute when you’re tucked up in bed for you to get me a glass of water. you hate how i’m indecisive for what i want for my birthdays and—,”

bakugou sits up, “i don't hate any of that shit. love listenin’ to you and half that shit is cute as hell.”

you pout, “you hate when i wear low cut tops out—,”

he frowns, “that’s foreplay, baby. you let me suck your tits after to make me happy. couldn’t give a shit what you wear.”

“how about how protective my friends are? and the fact i tell them everything?”

bakugou shrugs, “you deserve friends that love you that much and that you can tell everythin’.”

“i get snappy when i’m running late or too much is going on or i’m hot.”

with that bakugou gets up. your fan. though not without hovering over you to give you a peck. then another. you press your soft lips against his though you don’t open up because then you will get even hotter and snappy.

he pulls off you and rises from the sofa, “that makes sense, baby. you’re stressed and uncomfortable.”

you roll your eyes, “stop being so understanding!”

he walks towards your bedroom, but not without turning around to look at you. his fingers grip the door frame, “i love you.”

“i love you too… and no snooping!”

[nieceeee]

SHOPAHOLIC

bestfriend!ony x black reader

"Does this make my ass look fat?" you ask your best friend as you turn in the mirror. He lifts his head from his phone. You had once again dragged Ony out to shop with you. A task her swears he hated but secretly loved for moments just like this. He tilts his head slightly as his tongue darts across his lips. Then without hesitation.. "Absolutely." You snap your head to look at him. "Ony, stop fucking playing with me." you snip before turning back to the mirror. "I mean, shit you asked. I gave you an honest answer." You look yourself over again. It wasn't like he was wrong. That was the whole point of you buying the pants to begin with. "You know I'm right. Now gone and get 'em. Matter of fact get a few more." he smirks. "Ok." you walk over to him and hold your hand out. "Maaaan." he groans but pulls out his card and hands it over to you. "I need some shoes to go with these so come on." you boss him around, watching him collect the mountain of bags you'd already accrued. You sashay towards the counter and Ony won't lie and say he didn't love to watch you leave. One of the many best friend perks he enjoys about being your personal bag boy.

Yeah, you love shopping with your best friend and honestly...he loves it too.