Vixen’s Brainrotts

Allow me to indulge your thoughts

[vixensbrainrotts]

Vixen’s brainrotts:: what you need to know

MASTERLIST

About me::

You can call me Vixen, I speak both German and English fluently. I’m 22, born on the 26 May 2002. I’m still trying to figure out a good structure for this page, and my aesthetic is still undefined so please be patient with me. Also, if I ever make a Masterlist (as soon as I figure out a system that works well) it’ll be linked separately. I also have a shitpost account if you’d like to check out what I'm screaming into the void (@vixensbusiness)

About my blog::

This page is an amalgamation of things. Every so often I’ll write a thing or two of my own, and reblog pieces that I think are exceptionally well written and deserve all the attention possible. Im currently looking for moots and anons to proofread my content and perhaps triangulate ideas with? Please message me if you’re interested!

About my original content::

3 rules> Don’t steal. Don’t plagiarize. Give credit where its due. If you cant follow those simple ideas, i dont think the two of us will get along very well. I pride myself on creativity and originality, try being a part of that mindset too. Most of my works will contain a female or gender neutral reader, which is what im most comfortable with but f you would like to see a male reader, just let me know by requesting or messaging me! I may not own characters, tropes, cliches or prompts, i do own the things i write, so please just respect that, thanks.

About requesting::

My ask box is always open for requests, especially for ideas, prompts or discussion topics you have. I enjoy being challenged in terms of writing, so please don’t hesitate to send me even your wildest requests! However, I do not write things like incest or rape, or anything degenerate of such nature. Please just be a decent being in the ask box. Please mention whether or not you’d like to remain anonymous too, it just makes a lot of stuff easier, thanks!

About fandoms::

- Stray Kids

- Tokyo Revengers

- Jujutsu Kaisen

- DevilMan CryBaby

- One Piece

- Obey Me! Shall we date?

- Attack on Titan

***********

I believe that’s all you have to know. Upon further questions please don’t hesitate to contact me, I promise that I’m happy to hear you.

[vixensbrainrotts]

Tokyo Revengers Headcanaons (volume III)

- Hakkai who has hands down the cuntiest instagram page ever. Posts monthly recaps and whenever an event happens but it’s so well put together.

- Emma who really wants to grow her natural nails long, but keeps chipping them doing random shit. (She gave up some time ago and uses press on kits now)

- Mitsuya who can’t be bothered to stick to one fashion style. He draws inspiration from so many different aesthetics, he feels that it would be a waste not to represent everything. (Also he looks good in everything and he knows).

- Kokonoi who 100% has a tongue piercing. no further explanation

- Shion who has one of those scruffy old white dogs at home that just doesn’t seem to die. It belongs to his mother but he has to take “the beast” for walks. He makes sure to take a route that none of the other guys will see him walking.

- Taiju who gets highkey scared whenever his hair tickles his nape. He snaps around with a shout, just about ready to obliterate the threat when he realizes it’s just his hair. Whenever that happens he knows it’s time for a haircut.

- Mochi who is actually one of the most peaceful guys once you take the time and talk with him. Once you get over the boisterous exterior you’ll find a genuinely respectable gentleman (who really enjoys baking- but don’t tell anyone!)

- Mikey who chose the name Mikey based on the TMNT character. He was obsessed with the turtles growing up and since the nickname fit, he chose to adapt it for himself. Nobody knows (not even Draken), and he intends to keep it that way.

- The twins who sneeze really fucking loud. For no good reason. Full dad sneeze, and as if it isn‘t bad enough on it‘s own its like four or five times consecutively.

- Takemichi who gets red in the face incredibly easy. Not just from embarrassment (well known fact tbh), but also from physical activity. 10 meter sprint? Hot pink. Two flights of stairs? Cherry couture. 30 second presentation? Firetruck mug.

- Ken who has impeccably (frustratingly) clear skin. I think it‘s jus by-proxy because he exists in the vicinity of girls.

- Hakkai who might just have a photographic memory in terms of lyrics. It's actually crazy the way that he will listen to a song once and have it DOWN. word for word, beat for beat.

- Ridou who has an abnormally high alcohol tollerance and it PISSES him the fuck off cause he basically has to pre-game the pre-game to enjoy an event. Really hurts his wallet too, he can't catch a break cause most of the time he ends up being the "sober" friend to take care of his much drunker friends

[vixensbrainrotts]

Without Her - !bonten Sanzu Haruchiyo

Content: heavy angst (seriously ouch)

Summary: Sanzu‘s sudden dedication to going clean cold-turkey was one that came completely unexpected to his colleagues.

Vixen's two cents: hello hello! lowk revived from the dead im so sorry i was gone but i really wanna write again. this was half finished in my drafts so i finished it up. not a great way to start my relaunch cause its just sad but hey, at least its something! please gimme requests i really wanna write again okay now enjoy (if you can) xx

One day he was doing lines in the bathroom, asking for hand towels and belts to shoot up a vein and scrounging and forgoing in cabinets to find misplaced pill bottles. Then the next day he came into the office asking for an extended leave, dismissing himself into a rehabilitation center for a 7 week long detoxification program.

To say his colleagues were taken aback was an understatement. They were entirely baffled, hastily turning heads to see if anyone else heard right: Sanzu Haruchiyo was going clean? Impossible.

The notorious Haitani brothers especially had a hard time believing it, much less taking him seriously when Sanzu broke the news. It had been an odd morning anyways, the coffee was too hot, the files were all printed upside down, the assistants were irritating, some or another thing was bothering every other executive present. When Sanzu had walked in, painfully quietly, almost pliant in attitude, the others had convinced themselves that it was nothing special, just an odd morning.

Sanzu didn't spare a look at Rindou who greeted him with a sly grin, neither did he dap up Ran, who was left hanging as Sanzu stormed straight to the breakroom. Kokonoi, ever the mediator, decided to investigate a little further after sharing a look with the brothers.

Sanzu was irritated, that much was clear by the way he was abusing the coffee machine, punching his order into the screen and tapping his foot restlessly. "Morning." Kokonoi greeted softly, trying to gage the situation as best he could. Sanzu's head whipped around, his eyes bloodshot and unfocused. He didn't respond to Kokonoi, just leaned over the coffee machine impatiently.

Kokonoi was mildly disturbed, as the look in Sanzu's eyes was completely unplacable, almost unique if not for the trace of sadness his glossy pupils had. The two held the eye contact for far too long, Sanzu's eyes only breaking away from Kokonoi's once the espresso was done filtering into his cup. The Financer wanted to say something, anything, but the words got stuck in his throat when he tried, so he let Sanzu whirl past him.

Kokonoi kept standing there for far too long, trying to wrap his head around Sanzu's behaviour. It wasn't unusual for him to be so irritable, especially not on a Monday morning, but this wasn't the usual type of whickedness Kokonoi expected. This was someting much different and he wasn't how to handle this storm that was so clearly brewing. Kokonoi sighed, eyebrows furrowed in concern as he made himself his own coffee in preperation for whatever may come.

The Haitani's came into the breakroom aswell, joining Kokonoi at the coffee machine and looked at him with expectant glances. "What crawled up his ass and died?" Ran tried to joke around the situation, clearly clueless. Kokonoi met Ran's eyes, face serious "I have no idea but this is not good." They didn't speak further.

The rest of the morning wasn't any better, that same odd feeling loomed over the high-top office, a suffocating sensation making everyone uneasy. None of the work was really getting done, not with this atmosphere.

„You wouldnt understand. She was my fucking soulmate!“ it was a brother to brother conversation, but not a heart to heart. The Haitanis had overheard the screaming match when passing Takeomi‘s office and shared a guilty look. They knew it wasnt their place to pry and listen in, not on any private situations to begin with, but especially not vulnerable moments like these. An uncanny feeling tickled both of them at the back of their necks as the pair shared another look. It didnt take words to figure out that the both of them had a sinking feeling in the pit of where stomachs.

Sanzu was, at any other hour, more or less a vicious monster, just one split hair away from complete demolition- a ticking time bomb. Sanzu was a fierce fighter, a loyal henchman to Mikey, and most prominently, a pill popping, coldblooded killer. That‘s what they had grown to know Sanzu as. At least up until now.

„She said so herself. She looked at me and she told me: ‚Sanzu, you need to be better than i was. You need to get better. I‘m fucking dying Sanzu, I can feel it.‘ And then she died in my arms!“ uninerrupted silence followed. The brothers held their breath as they leaned into the door, ears sharp.

What they heard must have been the most terrifying noise to have ever been heard. That meant a lot to a pair of criminals, former delinquents who fought for fun and killed to make a living. However no amount of snapping bones, sloshing guts or bloodcurling screams could compare to the soft, pitiful whimpering cries that came from beyond the door.

"I loved her. I loved her more than life itself. I don't know what I'm going to do now. I need help." Ran and Rindou dismissed themselves from the hallway, taking refuge out in the lobby instead where they sat with their heads hanging.

They knew exactly who Sanzu was talking about, a mutual friend they had met way back in their early clubbing days, a real ride or die. When she and Sanzu met it was like a match made in heaven. They clicked instantly, as if they had known each other in a different life. The two of them had the closest thing any of the Bonten executives might ever call true love.

Nobody said a word when around ten minutes later Takeomi escorted a shaking Sanzu towards the elevators, car keys and coats in hand. Deadly silence hung in the workplace, as if the entire floor was frozen in place. Kokonoi came into the lobby a bit after to inform that they could go home for the day and start anew tomorrow.

Tomorrow came with a distinct lack of Sanzu, but work got done and the members tried their best to adjust to the temporary positional changes that Sanzu's extended absence brought.

Over the next couple of weeks the topic was never addressed other than for adminastrative reasons, and they moved on. Sanzu eventually returned to his position, but he was different. Not just because he had put on some healthy weight and muscle, or that he was clean, but Sanzu himself changed.

His attitude was different, softer, more cautious. He spaced out in meetings not due to boredom but simply due to an sbsent mind. He'd spend hours at his desk watching the streets on rainy days, murmuring to himself. He flinched at gunshots occasionally and let half of his ciggarettes burn before his lips ever touched them.

Sanzu hadn't talked about it. He wasn't even sure if he could if he wanted to. Maybe now just wasn't the right time. Maybe not yet.

[vixensbrainrotts]

so like would anyone be interested in me writing again? lowkey wanna make a comeback and i have time on my hands :P

[atzfilm]

pairing;  multi/reader

genre; a/f/s, soulmate!au, alien!au, e2f2l

summary; according to murphy’s law, everything that can go wrong will go wrong. Black holes circle each other until they collide and merge, a cataclysm so fierce, sends ripples soaring through the fabric, crossing thousands of kilometers within a fraction of a second, leaving behind a wave on the space-time continuum. That’s the simplest way you can describe meeting him. And yet, even that is an understatement.

content; death, sex work (vaguely mentioned), politics, arranged marriage, insults, slave labor, misogynistic undertones, anxiety, eating/starvation, smut, more to be added

TOTAL WC: 98K

one | two | three | four | five | COMPLETED.

[vixensbrainrotts]

Holy shit. This was so beautiful I don’t know what to do with myself now that it’s over. I love this omg I swear this changed my brain chemistry the worldbuilding and character arcs are so well done

[romerona]

All Y/N ever wanted to do was sing her songs and be free. Yet somehow, after offering to pay for the meal of a certain boy in a straw hat she finds herself causing havoc through the East Blue.

Masterlist

---Coming soon---

1. F$ck The Mar*nes.

2. What does a songbird do?

Disclaimer: The songs I will be using in this fic aren't mine bc I have 0 creativity. I'm sorry.

[vixensbrainrotts]

Keeping my eye on this one!!! This is such a good read omg please keep writing it im in love with this concept (also i love how the reader is so shamelessly flirtatious with everyone cause yeah, same girl.9

[softshuji]

𝟏𝟎:𝟎𝟏 | 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐌𝐀 𝐒𝐇𝐔𝐉𝐈

Title: The Hanma's

Summary: Hanma and you know those intimate moments are few and far between. But you always find a way to make the most of them. Back to masterlist here!

Cw: fem!reader, established relationship, reader and Shuji have kids, some suggestive content, pet names (sweetheart, baby, pretty girl, princess, mama, doll),some mentions of violence, this is kinda self indulgent lol. Reblogs appreciated!

Hanma Shuji has a morning voice like no other. It’s gritty, rough, laced with the aftermath of disuse and sleep, cigarettes and alcohol. It’s gravelly, inflected with the slight slur of fatigue, but it rolls over your body in such a way that makes the heat in your stomach thrum with energy. 

He swears the nights are deliberately shorter when he’s at home.

The mornings arrive too fast and the covers are pulled too quickly and he winces a little when the cold draught slips past the door left ajar and he thinks this is maybe the karma for spending so much time at work and never enough at home.

He pulls the blanket over his head and groans, his head of tousled curls now lopsided and flattened against the soft downy pillow.

Your arms come around him instinctively, your breath warm against the pronounced clavicles, the hollow of his throat flexing when he swallows.

The sleep grit is crusting in the corners of his eyes and he pulls up one hand to rub at them, the other pulling you closer against his chest, secretly relishing in the sigh of contentment he hears when you press a chaste and soft kiss to the dip in his collarbones.

‘Mmh Shuji,’ you say, your voice caught in the confines of fabric and cotton and sleep. The nicotine and alcohol, gunpowder and metal has left a scent on his skin, imprinted into the fine hairs that dance along his navel and you brush a hand along the toned ridge of his stomach, the muscles flexing under your soft touch. 

He loves this part of coming home the most, (among other things). The part where you sigh, his name leaving your parted lips and it sounds like a promise, like a heady rush of adrenaline, and your murmurs against his neck are the food for his daydreams in his absence.

‘Don’t wanna get up.’ A mumble that kisses your cheeks like a breeze, an inked hand snaking its way around the small of your back, past the harsh bruises, purpling spots that are red and pink smudges on your skin left just a few hours before under your loose shirt, past the bite marks that now rub against the swell of his bicep when it comes to rest on your shoulder. 

‘I know, but you gotta. We said we’d take them out, remember?’ Despite this, you make no move to leave, opting to bury your face in the curve of his neck, your lips moving over the telltale marks you’d left of your own, still lightly singing with a pulse of barely perceptible pain. Because Hanma Shuji knows you are as insatiable as he is, that your appetite for each other knows no bounds, that you drown in each other nearly every night, climbing out of the current when you come down from your high only to throw yourself in again. 

‘Mhm, you're giving me orders now Sweetheart?’ And the other inked hand comes to tilt your face to his, a thumb brushing the stray eyelash on your cheek, parted lips forming an O that he thinks is worth dying for. He thinks you are worth dying for, a single avenue of repentance, his single saving grace. 

You frown and tut under your breath, rolling your eyes in mock exaggeration, all faux annoyance and indignation. ‘You promised.’ You poke his side for effect, and it’s pathetic to admit your heart does a tiny leap when he giggles, teeth nipping at the flesh of your ear.

‘I know , I know, ‘m getting up birthday girl.’ And he cracks his eyes open to see you swirling a pattern onto the ink of sin, your eyes lidded and brow pinched as you fight the sleep still threatening to take you under. I love you, painted with your finger onto the same hands that the blood splashes on when he pulls a trigger, crusted under his nails and harder to wash off since the day he had met you. And smiling, always smiling at him, no matter how bad, no matter how many times he knows he breaks your heart. 

'Birthday girl huh?' you say now, a teasing and sleepy grin curling at your lips as you rest your cheek in his upturned band, big palm coming up to brush at your cheek. 

'Mhmm, my Princess's special day isn't it?'

'It is, you got something planned for me?'

'Might do, I guess you'll have to wait and see won't you?' 

You feign a tut under your breath. 'No clues?'

'No, be patient Pretty Girl.' And he brushes his thumb across the apple of your cheek, presses down on your lips till your teeth lightly bite down on it. 

'Mhm please?' You say now, a hand moving to rove over his bare chest, fingers tracing the whirl of fine hairs on his navel before he's catching your wrist between his thumb and forefinger, bringing it up to his mouth to press a kiss to the inside. 

'Behave yourself Sweetheart.' 

You huff playfully and It hits him for the barest of moments, how often he comes close to losing this. How the blood he’s wrought could catch up with him one day, the pile of bodies he has gladly crushed to reach his desires could grab his ankle and pull him down and that would be it. And you would break trying to put yourself together again. Maybe it’s selfish to keep you knowing that, knowing he could be cut from you like a loose end any day now. But, he is insatiable with you, redeemed by the constancy and feel of you when the weight is heavier than usual, when the burden threatens to-

‘Shuji?’ 

‘Mhm?’ His eyes are pulled to yours again, your bare face free of makeup, lips soft and warm and just as inviting as they usually are. 

‘You were lost in thought for a second. Everything okay?’ 

He knows you mean it from the heart, the heart you carry for the both of you, a necessary recompense for the blessing of being his, because a man like Hanma Shuji won’t get far carrying his heart on his sleeve. So you do it for him.

‘Fine Sweetheart,’ he says and tucks it all away, the insecurity, the thoughts, the edge that has softened since knowing you, cut glass that no longer stings or slices when touched. Today is about you, he thinks. His Princess, his Pretty girl, and all the ways he can show you he knows it all- the things you do, the ways you care that he never mentions,  hair swiped back when he bleeds out on the sofa, towels pressed to his forehead as he mumbles in fitful sleep. 

And then it happens.

The door flies open and your head lifts to see your two springy children burst into the room, their curls bouncing as they race across the carpet.

They climb onto your bed, all short limbs and smiles and toothy grins, giggles and onesies and smelling of sleep, and they jump into your arms, tucked safely between you and the man you love the most. He laughs, full and beautiful, laced with the sluggishness of the sleep that’s still threatening to pull him under and pulls all four of you safely to his side.

You look at his hands as he playfully tosses your daughter into the air, her giggles and grins matched by his, and you think of all the blood and grit they’ve seen, all the splashbacks and gunpowder that he’s washed off in grimy bathrooms to come back to you time and time again. The same hands that now hold your children with a gentleness he doesn’t know he’s capable of, hands that hold yours and trace circles along the knuckles. In the safety of these four baby blue walls, with the sunlight pouring in through the slat in the window, falling onto the baby blue carpet, it is almost easy to believe you are just like any other family. 

‘How’s my little man?’ Your Husband says and winks conspiratorially at your son nestled into your side. 

‘Are we still going out today? You promised!’ Your son says, a frown creasing tiny brows that look so much like his Father’s that it knocks the wind from your chest. It’s almost terrifying to see the resemblances sometimes, the dark tousled curls that bounce when they pull their heads through tiny shirts, golden eyes that swirl just shy of copper. Both your twins that is, spitting images of their Father come to life and a sprinkling of you somewhere in the middle. If you were to ask him, he'd say they looked more like you. You and your winning smile and all the light it brings that now lives safely in their tiny hearts. 

‘I don’t know, have you been good for Mama? Both of you? It's her birthday y'know,’ he says and grins when they nod fervently, pleading eyes that turn to you to back their statement, wrapping their tiny arms around you with a whispered 'Happy Birthday Mama,' and It occurs to him, at moments like this, how greedy he has been to ask and want something that he’s spent so long denying to others. To grab at a life, snatch it from death’s hands, and take it for himself. He has a polaroid of the four of you in his wallet somewhere, behind cards and receipts, numbers of mob bosses, gang leaders, other people whose crimes are too heinous to name, and you safely at the back, tucked away for him and him only, as if this simple act is enough to protect you from the spray of bullets and contents of shady clubs.

‘Come on kids, go get changed.’ And your children scurry off, scrambling off the bed to run to their rooms, excitedly chattering, their curls disappearing through the doorway, voices high with laughter.

He flops back onto the bed and reaches absent-mindedly for the glasses thrown haphazardly onto the bedside table the night before, running a hand down his tired face. It never fails to feel foreign to him on days like today. When the sun is at its zenith, the watery bask of its light leaking into the room, and he wonders at what point his priorities changed, what point he started to think of you more often than he wanted to admit, some time in the past when he was younger and sporadic and chaotic. And while it hasn’t left, that zing of boyhood curiosity, wonderment and thirst for drama, he knows some part of him has softened enough to do this, to not flinch from family, to run his hand over the indentation on the soft cotton sheets, an imprint that remembers you as well as he does.

‘Shuji? Baby?’ And again, like a song, your voice pulls him from his reverie.

‘Yeah?’ 

A beat, your hand moving to hold his, to pull it to your heart, where the memory of his name lives, where he has etched it into your ribcage. ‘Thank you, for doing this I mean. For taking the time out for them and me.’

He doesn’t expect it to hurt like this, the sharp and visceral drop of something into his stomach, and he falters, the quirk of his Cheshire cat grin slipping into something more concerned, something more sombre. 

‘I didn’t mean- I mean I know you’re working hard, I’m grateful Shu’ baby- I am,’ you say, and the rambles of all the pent-up frustrations, nights made lonely by his absence, the whir of the refrigerator and the drone of nighttime Tv the only company, tumbles out before you can stop it. ‘But I miss you sometimes, and the kids-they miss you too. We all do.’

You can’t pretend that the calls made between meetings, between surveillance on the road, between drives from one shady establishment to the other are enough to suffice, to sate the need for him and sometimes it’s so clear, so sharp, that the pain of his absence cuts clean across your lungs.

‘I know…I miss you too, Pretty Girl.’ Said against the crown of your head, his lips slightly dry, chapped and still as full of love for you as they always are. He gets it, you know he does. It’s in the way he sends random messages to you in the small hours, when he knows you’re asleep and he’s watching a rat sell them out and he misses you in an urgent way, in a way that feels like an ache in his chest, the punch of it that hurts more than a kick could.

‘Come Home to us every time okay? Not just today, not just on my birthday, but every day,' You say, because it scares you to think otherwise, because you could run your hand over every ridge and bump of him and name every scar, every mark and it’s beginnings, because you could kiss the eyelashes from his cheek, and spend days and hours counting the calluses on his hands and it would still not be enough to bring him home to you every day. 

‘I will, y’know me Doll, I never lose.’ He knows It’s more for you than him. 

‘I mean you got your ass handed to you by Draken when-’

‘Well excuse me,’ he says, all faux annoyance, the grin curling at the edge of his perfect mouth. ‘What happened to you saying you missed me?’

You giggle, hiding against his chest, your hair tickling the collarbones that still betray the memory of your heated moments just a few hours prior.

‘I do! I always do. You’re like… my hero.’

‘That’s a new one, Doll.’

‘Like it?’

‘Mhm, y’know what I like even more?’

‘What?’

‘I like when you moan my name all sweet-’

‘Shuji?!’ And you slap a hand over his mouth, warm breath on your palm and the sound of his laughter muted and muffled as you spare a glance towards the door slightly ajar. 

And he smiles at you, softened, warming as you pull your hand away, pressing a kiss to the wrist he’s grabbed, tender and heartfelt. 

And you fall and tumble into love for him all over again.

A/n: I wouldn't be me without a self indulgent birthday fic for myself and about my darling boy, the apple of my eye, my heart and soul. (It's the 28th in case anyone wants to know ;)) thank you everyone always.

taglist: @reiners-milkbiddies @mxnjiros @prettyiolanthe @sugusshi @snakegentleman @haitaniapologist @lonnie19 @nafarsiti @bejeweled-night-33 @rinnndoll @the-travelling-witch @orchid3a @rottingreveries @qiiuusoup-xo @hoetani @sinfulseashell @welcome-to-the-internet-it-sucks @obitohno @sweet-seishu @burnishedcrown @saintokkotsu @nikokopuffs @sin-and-punishment @haruwuchiyoo @mochimiyaas @bertholdts--butt @theaonlax @blackfire2013 @wotakuhime @severellamahottub @anxious-chick

[vixensbrainrotts]

Im crying i live this so much. Too fluffy to be true omgggggg your exposition passages are pre gold pls my heart soars reading this <3333

[mysouleaten]

Wish my readers weren't silent readers😭

I want to know what yall like about my stuff and what I can improve on

pls be nice though, I'm just a girl🎀

[vixensbrainrotts]

Loud-ish repost omg

[pwncez]

  ℋℰ𝒜ℛ𝒯ℱℰℒ𝒯 ℱℛℰℰ𝒮𝒯𝒴ℒℰ .ᐟ

꒰ 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 . . . ꒱ 6.9k word count , fem reader ( she / her prns ) , kinda self insertion but it's veri veri loose , ass eating ( nahoya's like . . literally obsessed w it ) , daddy kink , oral sex ( f -> m ) , dacryphilia, established relationship , pet name usage ( ex. mama, pretty, baby ) , squirting , slight brat taming , kinda gets slow n soft near the middle :c ! minors do not interact !

maisie’s note to you .ᐟ . . . ໒꒰ྀི ੭ ˃̵ ˕ ˂̵ ꒱ྀི੭ hoyahoyahoyahoyahoyaaaaaa ( changed up mi post layout again shhh ).

animal crossing new horizons is not a game you revel in lightly.

you don’t play it for stress relief. you’re aware that the game has been meticulously crafted to be a soothing, withal innovative experience made to relax its player, however, given the amount of DIYs, sea creatures, fossils, and insects you still have yet to collect, not including the fact that you also only have three of your dream islanders which, irregardless, leaves seven you have to augment nook miles for — animal crossing new horizons quickly becomes plain out stressful.

“oh my god,” you’re whining when your thumb jabs into the letter ‘ A, ‘ which causes your character to attempt to let the net she’s holding fall and swoop up a tarantula. only, you miss, which causes the spider to freeze in initial anger and terror then run after you.

quickly, you fight to run away by holding down the letter B and immediately heading in the direction of one of your islander’s homes for refuge. “c’mon, c’mon, c’mon.” adrenaline is coursing through your veins which has your thigh length, socked feet shooting up behind you as you lay on your tummy. you make it past your museum, nook shop, and finally, your favorite villager’s marshall’s home is in sight before — two things happen.

one, when you lift your finger off of B to press A and open the door to marshall’s cute, little cabin, that split second between your thumb switching buttons has the spider ramming head first into your character which has her fainting and the screen fading into a mocking black. and, two, the doorbell rings.

you scream into your oversized, hello kitty squishmallow and kick your feet to express your inner frustration in the form of a mini tantrum. “stupid. f-freakin’. spider. oh my god, i hate you! i hate this game, never playin’ it again, i swear to god.” 

you’re pouting and grumbling when sliding out of bed to land on your feet and pad them across your soft, fuzzy pink carpet, out of your bedroom, down the hall, and to your front door. 

you don’t bother checking the peephole because you already know who’s going to be standing on the other side after unlocking the chain lock and untwisting the others to open the door. 

“hey, baby.”

nahoya’s giving you a pretty smile and immediately bending at his waist to kiss your cheek and gather you in a tight hug, furthermore leaving you to have to stand on your tip toes to reach up and drape your arms across the back of his neck to hug him back. “hi, ‘hoya,” you hum softly, close your eyes, and let yourself melt into the scent of roasted garlic, green onions, oak, and soap. it’s an odd mix, but you love it most because it’s a fragrance only tended to him. “come in.”

your hand finds itself wrapped around the singular digit of his index finger so that you can drag him further inside your cozy, little apartment and out of the sharp winds of november that howls and blows against your windows outside. 

he kicks off his shoes, throws his keys inside of the dish that houses yours beside the door, then unzips his puffy, red north face coat. “i made dinner,” you smile and take a few steps backwards which has you standing diagonal to the entrance of your living room. “are you hungry?”

fatigue reads clear within the radiant, benign light brown of his eyes, but he still gives a small smirk and nods his head up and down lightly. “know i love your cookin’,” he utters. “what did my baby make?”

you try not to let your happiness show too broadly, but it fails to work ‘cause you still shoot up on your tip toes with a small squeak and big smile. “u-uh, i made spicy shrimp pasta and cheesy garlic bread.”

“mhmm?”

“mhmm.”

you watch him walk inside of the kitchen, open the fridge, then reach for the plate that sits on the top shelf, wrapped tightly with tin foil and a pink post - it note sat on top with a messy scribble of ‘ hoya ♡ ‘ written on it in glittery, orange ink. 

“warm it up and eat, okay?” the lazy, familiar drawl of animal crossing’s theme music makes your fingers twitch in the direction of your bedroom. “i gotta go finish my game.”

nahoya doesn’t mind. he’s aware that you’ve been a little obsessed with the game since he bought it for your birthday, makes him happy to see you enjoying it so much. he watches you bounce down the hall, your hair wrapped cutely in two buns with ribbons tied around them catching his attention. he can’t help but let the corner of his mouth lift tiredly into a little chuckle. “cute ass.”

he eats his food at the dining room table, using the split moment of silence, free from the sounds of shouted orders, banging utensils, and sizzling meats to recollect his mental sanity and relax. he isn’t surprised to feel the feeling come no less than a minute later. this is why he adores your home. 

it’s cozy . . intimate . . warm. a champagne toast scented, three wick candle flickers brightly in the center of your rustic, wood living room table, shrouding your home with the scent of juicy tangerine and sparkling berries, there’s pictures of you and your closest friends hung on your fridge door with cute, sanrio themed magnets, and the ones of you and him are clipt on the freezer’s. carpet, the color of a rosy blush, covers almost each and every corner of your entire apartment and your lights have all been dimmed to allow some brilliance, if needed, though not too much.

nahoya fucking loves it here. 

he finishes his food with a final burp loud enough to be heard through your neighbor’s walls, not at all startled to hear your responding ‘ew!’ echo from down the hall which makes him snicker. after cleaning his plate, he trudges down to your bedroom, his absolute, most favorite room in your house.

and there you lay, on your tummy in your canopy bed whose posts are draped with twinkling fairy lights set to the color periwinkle. you have another candle burning in here, a single wick, and nahoya doesn’t know what this one is called but it smells a lot like vanilla and cream. your comforters are fuzzy and pink, and too many fucking plushies cover the plane of your entire mattress, but nahoya still drags himself over to the edge, lets his knees fall first, then his torso, before his face which falls into the cheeks of your exposed ass with a thick plap.

you gasp at the same time your body tenses up. “n- . . nahoya!”

a breath is pushed out of his nose and your face screws with discomfort when you feel the air brush against your scarcely veiled pussy. “shh,” he mumbles. “lemme have this.”

you’re wearing nothing but his old, high school letterman jacket, a short halter top, and a pink and white striped thong. when exposed, fuck, even when covered, nahoya has his face laid upon the cheeks of your ass. it’s perfect to him. soft, plump, jiggly, and kneadable. there’s been multiple occurrences of him being able to take a full, two hour nap right here, with his face either laid within, or upon, the cheeks of your booty. and today was bad, a little bit more stressful than the others, and nahoya needs a whiff like he needs oxygen to survive. 

thankfully, he catches you on a good day, or rather, a time where you’re distracted. ‘cause usually you like to fight him on this — pushing, wriggling, and huffing until you tire yourself out and finally allow him to have what he wants. tonight, you just give a bratty grumble before he hears your little fingers go back to pressing on the buttons and knobs of your nintendo switch console. “seem tired, baby,” you utter. “how was work?”

nahoya doesn’t want to think about it. he doesn’t want to think about the lunch rush that had him so overwhelmed that his younger brother had to bring it upon himself to escort him back to their office just so that he was able to take a breather, he doesn’t want to think about any of it. “mm,” he grumbles and buries his face further so that it can sink deeper within your skin like waning sand. “tired. jus’ wanna sleep.”

you pout. you hate how he sounds — quiet and frail. “ ‘kay, bubba. get some rest.” you’ll let him indulge. just this once.

and you think he listens, too. because he clearly gets comfortable, and about a minute later, you’re able to realize that his breathing has gotten slower and deeper, proving he had dozed off. 

‘ 250 turnips! sure! how about if i offer you 2,650 bells? ‘

“oh, fuck no, timmy.” you use the A button to exit your character out of the conversation promptly and leave the nook shop without a second wasted. near the back of your mind, you’re wondering if you should make nahoya a cup of tea. you know that it has always been able to help you de-stress, however, that’ll require you having to move, and as much as you want to say that you aren’t enjoying your current position as much as he is, you are. 

you think it’s cute. you consider his booty naps you guys’ relationship’s thing now — just as forehead touches, inside jokes, and pinkie linking were others’.

“stop moving.”

your spine pulls straight when you hear his voice grumble out the demand quietly. he did fall asleep, you hear it in his throat because his tone has grown deeper . . more gravely. 

“oh.” you were moving — lightly swinging your hips back and forth to the nonexistent beat playing in you head. you hadn’t even realized. “sorry.”

nahoya takes in a sizeable inhale then blows it out in one, big huff — the action has a thick gust of air blowing straight against your cunny again and it makes you mewl a sound of discomfort. “mmm.” a shuffle here, squirm there, then nahoya’s back comfortable and closing his eyes once more. he feels tired, he is tired, but you smell like fine jasmine, roses, and baby powder and what had started off as innocent quickly grows wayward. 

or let you tell it, “n- . . nahoya you’re such a pervert! stop it.”

his fingers lightly trail up the skin of your calves, backs of your thighs, to your ass cheeks so that he can dig them into the soft flesh to anchor a firm grip then spread them further apart. he sucks in a deep inhale. “oh fuck.”

your face feels like it’s broiling. he’s sniffing your ass. “can . . y-you freaking quit it?” you’re snapping your head over your shoulder to catch an eyeful of peach ringlets and his pretty, ringed fingers giving weak, feeble squeezes to your butt. 

“feels like i haven’t seen you in forever, mama.” nahoya finally pulls his head up so that he can gaze into your eyes when his lips alight a kiss at the base of your spine, right between the craters of your back dimples and right there upon the tribal, pink inked heart of your tattoo. 

your eyes are going a little unfocused, nahoya can tell because your glossed lips split the tiniest bit open to allow your breathing to past from them and your body sinks just the slightest bit deeper into your mattress. “ ‘s only,” you swallow and watch his kisses trace higher and higher, pushing the jacket you wore all the way up until he reaches your neck and your eyes involuntarily droop closed when his soft lips find your nape. “ ‘s only been a w-week, ‘hoya.”

“mhm,” he hums and follows the path of your neck when your head falls between your shoulders. 

you mimic a soft, “mhm,” letting your torso get lifted an inch higher so that his hands can envelop your tits within his palms. 

his voice is quiet when he murmurs, “week too long. miss you all the time . . every day.” his body melts into yours like gelatin on plastic on a scorching, hot summer day. chest to back, crotch to ass. granted, nahoya isn’t necessarily big in the sense of physique — he has finely chiseled abdominal muscles with a groove nestled between his pecs and his biceps are strong enough for him to lift a family sized sofa without much of a hitched breath, it’s more of his height that seems to make you always feel so small.

six foot three and a half. you sometimes play a little dumb and like to ask him how tall he was again just so he’d tell you, “six three,” he always utters while pouring steaming hot broth over two bowls of ramen, around a mouthful of minty foam while brushing his teeth, while flicking through channels on the television — he says it like it’s nothing.

“h-hoya,” you whine his name with little to no true ill intent underscoring your tone. “i wanna play my game.”

his teeth nips a small bite at the shell of your ear. you can feel him smiling when you shiver. “you can still play your game, baby. go ahead.”

doesn’t mean he’s going to stop. he watches you attempt to get back into the swing of things and grins when he notices that your fingers are trembling where they attempt to push at the buttons and knolls of the console. 

so, back down he goes — hooking the four of his fingers on both hands inside the thin straps of this little fucking thong and peeling it down your legs. he has to lift up on his knees to allow some room for him to slip them all the way off and gives a placid hum when you help by lifting your hips and kicking the scrap of fabric off for when it tangles at your ankle. 

nahoya’s amazed. seeing his fingers melt into the skin of your ass and thighs each time he braces a grip on you is fascinating to him. nothing but skin automatically gives and goes to canopy around the digits of them, letting the man know that perhaps you were just too soft.

he doesn’t want to do anything right now aside from letting his fingers bend and wiggle against the side dips of your ass cheeks so that he can make them jiggle from side to side as his lips stow a few, sweet kisses across the cups. 

and it’s innocent enough. the fog your brain had dropped itself in clears up within a minute and you’re back to placing your full, undivided attention on your video game.

“oh my god.” 

you shiver and jolt with surprise when there’s a slow, broad lick up the puckered hole of your ass. your eyes bulge, fingers shoot up, and body grows tensed when nahoya does it again — only this time he spreads the globes of your butt further apart to get a better taste. “ ‘s this okay, baby?” nahoya’s voice is low and breathy before he does it again and again, with his eyes looking up at the back of your head underneath the fine aril of his eyelashes.

your mind is so easy to break.

you’re not even sure when you decide to drop your switch all together to find comfort in gripping your favorite cinnamoroll squishmallow and panting into the soft plush for ease and nurture, but you find that it has to be sometime after nahoya asks you again with a gentle, hushed, “huh?” before waiting until you gave him a shy, little nod. 

nahoya would be fucking lying if he said he hadn’t imagined what it’d be like to eat your pretty ass out — quite literally. he’d be an even bigger liar if he said he has never chafed his shaft and drew his balls empty with the amount of times he jerked off to one pretty picture you had sent of you seated on your haunches, and the camera angled at just the right side angle to give him the perfect view of your skimpily cladded pussy with one, chubby lip threatening to spill over the crotch and nothing but a simple string of fabric shielding that tight, little pucker from sight.

he doesn’t think he wants to fuck you in it — thinks it’d hurt you too bad. he adores toying with your pain threshold, twisting and pinching your adorable, little nipples, slapping your clit, sinking his teeth into any area of soft skin he finds desirable until the indent of them remained depressed into it for days — but not to the point of true, blubbering, pain - rooted tears.

he’s thinking aloud when he quietly murmurs, “maybe i’ll buy a pretty, pink plug for my baby though,” while his thumb smears the laminate of spit he had glazed all over your hole before carefully attempting to dip inside. 

your next inhale is sharper than the last.

at his words or actions, he doesn’t know. because it’s then when he decides to attempt to delve the tip of his tongue deeper past that tight ring of muscle for a more generous taste.

you moan.

his tongue is warm . . wet . . long and broad. you hadn’t ever thought that rimming would feel this good but it does. your eyes flip back until only white is shown between your lids. “oh, please.” you give a cute squeak when nahoya suddenly, roughly jerks your hips back so that you’re lifted onto your knees with a pretty arch dipped inside of your spine.

his breathing is heavy and his tongue is able to sidle in further inside with this position which makes you tremble where you lay, feeling your cunt clench and relax to push out longer dribbles of trickling slick. moist pants of his breath tumbles down your perineum in waves and they seem to only make the pulsating worse, teetering on painful.

you hadn’t thought anything of it — reaching your hand down to take your tiny clit captive beneath the pad of your middle finger to rub and ease with quick, little circles, however, you’re surprised to feel one of nahoya’s large hands clasp around your wrist with an audible clap so that he can shove it back down, up, and away.

you whine.

he pulls back, voice more breathy and lower than usual when he asks, “think you can cum from jus’ this?”

you don’t know. “d-dunno, ‘hoya . .”

nahoya spreads your ass wider to watch that little fucking hole tauten then ease up again with each shuddering breath your lungs drew in. he takes in that some of his saliva had traveled down to your pussy and goodness, it’s a mess. a sloppy, wet, pitiful mess. 

“ptu!” 

nahoya shoots a thick line of spit onto your pretty asshole then slurps it back up with his lips suctioned to the rim. the sound that leaves your mouth is embarrassing as you involuntarily jerk and squirm against the hold he has your waist locked in by his arms. 

“oh god,” you’re whimpering.

and he’s mumbling, almost babbling, as his voice gets lost into the sound of thick wetness of his tongue licking and licking, “can do this … all fuckin’ . . night . . . swear to god.”

you think you’re going to cum. you can feel that familiar knot hitching into what feels like the base of your womb, sending a rush of arousal the temperature of molten hot lava rushing through your veins as your brain slowly drains itself empty second by second. 

“m’baby’s gonna cum?” nahoya’s rasping his words with a smile as his tongue continues to slurp up and down. “fuckin’ cute — gonna cum from jus’ daddy’s tongue fuckin’ her pretty, lil ass.”

when he puts it like that, you feel disgusting. you can feel your entire face scorch like a steak on grill. “ ‘m not.” you are. nahoya spreads your legs wider to open you up even further and gives a soft hum before his tongue is starting to spear inside then back out — in and out of your little hole. 

your next inhale is heart lurching. you establish a white knuckled grip on your satin sheets and bury your face within the inside of your arm for when the first wave of your orgasm washes over you. it’s hard — essentially rips through your entire body as your cum starts to drip out of you without a second thought.

“fuck,” nahoya swats a sharp smack to your ass. “there we go.”

you’re gasping and panting and quivering while a treacherous mix of embarrassment and satisfaction fills your chest. and it takes a while for the come down to hit — for you to realize that your boyfriend had literally just ate your ass out like it was his favorite dessert and you let him. you don’t think you can look at him for the rest of the night. submerging your face deeper inside the pocket of your arms, you fight to wriggle away when you feel nahoya lift up onto his knees to try to pull your back into his chest. 

“no,” he can hear the pout in your voice. “move. c-can’t believe you.”

you’re so fucking precious. nahoya’s chuckling, using nothing but only half of his true strength to flip you over and get you to look up at him. “tch, you fuckin’ loved it,” he mumbles and pins your hands down beside your head by intertwining his fingers within the gaps of yours. 

he kisses you — all sloppy and wet and nasty, almost exactly the way he was tonguing your most precious, intimate area two minutes ago and you hate to say it, but your pussy starts to thump just a little harder, sending an obvious signal to your brain that you wanted more. 

your legs slip around his waist like curling ivy and nahoya lets his hips nudge the slightest bit downwards …

“oh my god.” you have to pull yourself out from the kiss to look down at where his cock strains against the thick denim of his jeans, fighting the zipper to erect to its full size. 

nahoya’s voice is quiet when he mumbles, “ ‘m so fuckin’ . . hard.” the last word is punctuated with a firm thrust of his bulge into your pretty cunt and you mewl his name while letting your head fall back against your pillow.

you’re so cute, so fucking cute yet so fucking alluring . . don’t even realize what you’re doing half the time. don’t realize that you moaning his name like that has nahoya having to physically hold himself back from fucking the print of your body into the damn mattress. “you’re killin’ me, princess.”

impatiently, you reach for the back hemming of his tee to lift it off of his torso. his peachy curls fly this way and that, becoming all disheveled and you can’t help but giggle while trying to help him fix his fro back in place. 

“c’mere.”

nahoya throws one of his long legs over the side of your bed, then the other so that he can stand. you follow him on hand and knee like a mindless sheep, watching the pretty, nimble lines of his fingers unbutton his jeans, tug down the zipper, then pull his dick out. “oh fuck.” nahoya breathes out a soft curse, reaching out to caress his thumb over the soft round of your cheek, not surprised to watch you nuzzle into his palm like the sweet girl you are. 

he fists the base of his cock with the other hand, prior to him beginning to stroke it slowly with a steady, tight grip maintained throughout and an easy, wrist flex and circle when he makes it to the tip. you’re so fucking pretty — nahoya’s positive that he can cum just from looking at your face alone.

you watch the droplet of pre cum seated upon the tip of his fat cock become more and more plump until it was ultimately dripping off and falling onto your awaited tongue.

“that’s my fuckin’ girl — open up f’me.” 

nahoya feeds his cock into your mouth slowly, watching you have to stretch your mouth open wider when the mid section of his shaft touches your lips. he grunts, dropping his hands to his sides to let you set your own beat and pace. 

lips, plush, round and soft, suctioned around his shaft — stroking up and down, up and down has his eyes rolling slowly into the back of his head as it tips backwards in his throes of pleasure. “oh, f-fuck,” he breathes over the thick, sloppy sound of your foaming spit and hard suckles. “oh fuck, beautiful.”

you hum and pull off with a cute pop, blinking sweetly up at him when the tip of your tongue swirls ‘round and ‘round the bulbous head of the throbbing stake of his dick, letting him catch an eyeful of your big, pretty smile when you attempt to tease by tonguing at that small slit that cleats the skin.

nahoya’s extra sensitive there, any slight attention to it makes his body erupt with a rack of shivers as his toes and fingers curl at the sensation of an all too consuming pleasurable pain. you aren’t surprised to watch his spine pull tight and thick eyebrows gather in close towards the middle as his face contorts into an expression hard to decipher in your eyes between sweet relief and aching pain. you find him pretty.

you can’t help but let a tiny, sweet giggle slip before swallowing him back in. 

“think . .” the large palm of his hand takes hold of the back of your head. “think y’so fuckin’ funny, huh? think you’re so fuckin’ cute that you can get away with anythin’ . .”

you squeak out a quizzical hum, prior to feeling the girth of his cock being pulled free from the warm, soft confines of your mouth. you want to front clueless so you do — dunno what’s the worst thing he can do with his dick being inside of your literal mouth but then he’s shoving himself back in. on impulse, you choke and reach out for nahoya’s hips feeling him do it again and again until he’s fucking your throat to the beat of his own grunts.

“yeah,” his bottom lip is bitten over with a pretty smile as he watches thick saliva bubbles blow and pop at the corners of your mouth before they begin to dangle down your chin in sloppy strings. “there you go . . that’s daddy’s good fuckin’ girl.”

absolutely perfect — you’re perfect. he lets you snap off again with a loud gasp and spluttery coughs.

“b-bein,” you sniffle while your little fist starts to pump at his cock and your tear-glossed eyes shine up at him. “bein so mean.”

“can be meaner.”

you’re precious when you’re upset. nahoya can hardly take you serious when you open your mouth back up and angle your head to the side so that his dick can poke against the soft, bouncy interior of the inside of your cheek just for the visual nahoya adores of watching it bulge. you’re glaring at him, threaded eyebrows crimped and folded over. nahoya can’t help but let his face mimic yours upon letting himself start to realize just what the hell was going on with you — the teasing and pouts and grumbles and huffs, “y’bein’ a fuckin brat.”

it’s hard for him to believe that tonight of all nights, you decided to dispose of that usual good girl façade — no, he takes that back. he wouldn’t even call it a façade because you being a good girl isn’t something you fake. you just are, especially for him. 

and on the night when he’s tired . . just wants to take care of and cum a few times with his baby after a long, hard day at work, you want to be a fucking handful. 

slowly, nahoya rubs a large hand down his face with an exhale, letting his cock plop free from your mouth a second later.

and you smack your lips together with adorable ‘ taptaptap ‘ sounds, plopping back on your haunches and looking up at him like you hadn’t a clue what he was talking about. 

he’ll show you.

“c’mere.”

something vexatious swims within the golden spheres of his eyes as he flicks two of his fingers back then forth quickly — a universal motion to signal you back closer.

this is nahoya. truthfully, with anyone else, you would have obeyed, but a little smirk also pulls up the corner of his soft lips and you know that you really shouldn’t. so, you don’t. 

you shake your head slowly and melt down into the mattress in your butt, blinking owlishly at him. “. . nuh uh.”

“nuh uh?”

a beat of silence passes. you no longer hear the automatic jingle of your nintendo switch powering down, the rhythmic pattering of the rain beating against your windows, nor the gentle, eerie tinkling of nahoya’s rings as he rubs his fingers together at his side the same way he does when he’s provoked or annoyed. no, you only hear yourself inhale a shallow, trembly breath before you blink — and suddenly you’re right back where you started.

on all fours, back arched, and the huge paw of nahoya’s hand pushing down into the back of your head, keeping you pinned. 

“nuh uh,” he repeats quietly underneath his breath, in a tone that mimics the same one he uses when he wants to be sarcastic. “who are you? … hm? where’d my good girl go?”

you hear the faint rustle of clothing before the thick clunk of his belt buckle hitting the floor. “h . .” you breathe out a shaky breath when you feel the familiar nudge of his thick cockhead rubbing, probing at the entrance of your clenching cunt. “ ‘hoya.”

his fingers gather the strings of your arousal that had dripped down long enough to start to dangle between your legs back up to smear it back against your pussy with audible squish sounds. a high pitched moan crawls out of the tunnel of your throat, “nahoya.”

he hums to the sound of his full name leaving your lips — you sound so pretty, look so pretty . . and still, you’re nothing but a spoiled fucking horror. you don’t deserve the sweet hums and directions nahoya’s prone to giving you each time you both find yourself in a predicament like this, no, he’ll show you. you want to be a big girl then he’ll treat you like one. before he speaks again, his tongue taps against the roof of his mouth to make a quick clicking sound, “push back on it.”

you’re greedy — you adhere to his order immediately, leaning most of your body weight back so that the hole of your tiny cunny can catch on the aching, fat tip of his dick. you let out a sweet keen when it does, and nahoya bites his bottom lip, looking through the curtain of apricot curls that had fell over his forehead into his eyes to watch your lips slowly spread further and further apart as you start to push down on it. 

“uh-huh,” his grip on your head tightens while his other hand pares apart your left ass cheek to get a closer look of your pretty, lil holes. “that’s right.”

when he bottoms out, your round, perky ass slaps against his hips with a small plap. 

“oh my god,” your voice is so tiny and frail that nahoya could barely even hear it. “m-move.”

“move?” nahoya drags the word out a little bit with a head tilt. “fuck no. you wanna be a fuckin’ minx, you move. work for it.”

he feels your feet kick up as you let out a hiccup then whine, “y’so mean to me!”

bullshit. but he’s not going to entertain it — knows all of your little mind tricks to get him into doing what you want. “mhm.”

you pull your hips back forward, about halfway off of his dick before you’re dropping back down. and it feels good . . it’s okay, but it’s not what you want, what you actually need. “i hate you,” you’re whining low in your throat, finally picking up a rhythm now that has you rocking back then forth on your knees to fuck his cock in and out of you. “i f-fuckin’ hate you.”

cute. for the first time in your life since you’ve met him, nahoya actually makes you work for something and on a dime, you hate him. 

his hand drags down from your head, to the back of your neck which he establishes a firm grip upon, prior to widening his stance a bit, drawing his hips back a couple inches, then slamming inside. your fingers shoot out in surprise as you squeak and the walls of your pussy lock down on him without a second thought.

“yeah,” he murmurs underneath his breath. “don’t fuckin’ move.”

he hits you with long, hard, quick strokes that has you pleading for more, for him not to stop as you reach for one of your hello kitty stuffies for comfort. you’re so wet, you hear the sloppy squishes of your pussy working and squeezing around him. it makes nahoya smile, “she’s talkin’ to me, y’hear that?” his grip on your neck tightens, and he bows a little deeper over your back so that his soft, deep voice can vibrate the shell of your ear. “tellin’ me she missed me.”

it’s true, you won’t deny it, “a-always miss you,” you mewl as your fingers dig deeper into the soft plush of your squishmallow. “daddy, always m-miss you.”

how fucking precious. nahoya lets the nape of your neck go to grab you by the waist with the both of his hands and starts to make you meet him halfway. the sheer strength of his pounds has your voice and moans being belted out of your throat at the pulse of his tempo. it’s a feeling so good that not even a word can describe it. you allow your eyes to roll into the back of your head as drool begins to fill your mouth and trickle down the corners of your plump lips.

you feel brainless. not a word or thought echos inside of your brain that didn’t read daddy and nahoya. you want to tell him how good it feels but you think you’re incapable of real words at the moment — only sweet, broken babbles and whimpers able to leave your mouth. 

he’s fucking you absolutely dumb.

you can hardly even warn him about your premature release . . can feel the way your clit jumps and throbs to know that you’re going to make a mess — a big one. and whether nahoya knows or just doesn’t care, he refuses to let you try to run from it, pinning your hips deeper into the soft foam of your mattress when you attempt to pull him out. 

“s-shit!” he grits his teeth when it happens, when you squirt around his dick that gets all over his hips and thighs, splashes down to your sheets and maybe even on the floor. your body quivers as he fucks you through it, never breaking his momentum which makes it splash and squelch out little droplets each time his pelvis meets the fat meat of your ass and his balls against your little clit. “fuck, good girl,” he grunts at the back of his throat. “that’s my good fuckin’ girl.”

your body seems to preen at the praise, pussy thanking him with tight, little grips as you involuntarily push back closer to him.

nahoya wants to see your face, needs to see it if he wants to cum. he pulls out without notice and flips you over effortlessly. 

and you’re a beautiful, little mess. the ribbons in your hair are loosening, leaving a few unruly curls slipping out of your buns and the thin line of glitter that shimmers underneath the curly lashes of your eyes glow brightly with the tiny, unshed tears that still laminate them. nahoya has to kiss you — feels it’s only right when you look so pretty like this.

his lips glide smoothly along yours, mixing tropical punch flavored lipgloss with coconut scented chapstick. you melt when his tongue finds yours too, makes you throw your arms over the back of his neck as your head tilts to kiss him deeper. “good girl,” he mumbles inside the heat of your mouth, kissing you between his words as if he couldn’t get enough. “pretty girl . . so sweet. my favorite girl.”

he slips back inside of you easily and feels your body tighten up before it starts to shake. “gotta relax,” he utters quietly as he lifts back up, pushes his hands into the backs of your knees and bends them until they fold with your knees against your mattress. “you have to breathe, mama.”

you think you feel him deeper when he’s got you on your back — every inch, the width, it’s all too much. your breaths are shallow and choppy as you blink up at him through a thick sheen of tears. “ ‘m . . t-trying.”

nahoya hadn’t wanted to go so easy on you so soon, especially not after all that fucking attitude you were giving him just fifteen minutes ago. however, he finds it hard when you look like the epitome of an angel underneath him, still dressed in his letterman jacket with the sleeves just barely able to show your fingertips and that damn squishmallow he bought for you on a whim one day at the pharmacy when you had both just gone there for a plan b tucked into your arm. 

he rubs the calloused palms of his hands down your thighs, to your tummy, then drags them back up all the way to your ankles, kissing both of your soles too. he repeats the motion again, watching you slowly begin to relax where you lay, watching him carefully. “you okay?” he murmurs when he’s kissing across the short circumference of your ankle.

you answer the question by tapping and wiggling your pretty toes against his forehead and it makes him snort a short laugh, ahead of him pulling out and slowly working himself back inside. 

“there you go, baby.”

because you’re so sensitive, it’s a slow pace until he can work himself back up to that quick rhythm he had before. tensing up and squirming when he hits too deep, hiccuping when he accidentally finds himself stroking right up against your sweet spot, nahoya has to build back up your tolerance again before he’s able to pin your legs down to drop and lift his heavy cock in and out of your pussy, roughly, the way he wants to.

and god, when it happens . . .

“oh fuck,” your toes curl. “oh, f-fuck.”

nahoya doesn’t have to lean most of his body weight upon you to keep you in a mating press, merely pushes your legs upwards until they meet your ears with his hands. you’re both able to watch how your cunny’s lips fatten and squish up when your thighs press so close together, how the tiny bulb of your clit appears so pink and swollen as he batters your entire pussy into submission. 

“god, i c-can’t, ‘hoya,” you’re sobbing and your fingertips are pressing softly into his abs as if that could lift him out. “ ‘s so much — ‘s so deep.”

“i know,” he murmurs sympathetically. he knows. “feels too good?”

the way you quickly nod is unnecessarily cute. “want you to cum for me one more time . . jus’ one more, princess.”

nahoya’s panting roughly at the tight clenching of your walls flexing around his cock. it seems that immediately after he says that, you’re eagerly trying to make him cum . . you fucking brat. you hadn’t thought nahoya could fuck you harder, but he proves you wrong when his thrusts get so strong that it has your hips bouncing back up from when he lifts his hips to swallow him back in from the recoil of your mattress. you’re sobbing incoherent cries, something along the lines of, “daddy, please! ‘s so much, c-can’t, please . .”

you weren’t at all prepared to cum again, especially not so soon, but it’s a waterfall of a watery cream that cascades across the throbbing shaft of nahoya’s cock, down the soft globes of your ass cheeks and to the bed. and your cry gets choked off into a hard inhale when he’s not far off, slamming in deep and letting the thick, long ropes of cum shoot inside of your womb with hard grinds. he still isn’t done when he pulls out to aim and let the rest fly onto your pussy, coating it with white, filthy globs. 

“oh, shit,” he’s moaning your name and rocking his hips slowly to ride out the high you both still straddled. “shit, baby … f-fuck.”

and it’s a slow come down. nahoya has to let himself relax before he’s able to realize that you were still crying and sniffling as he watches your little hands reach up to clear your cheeks from the wet tracks, but he’s there before you, wiping your face clean and kissing a line across your cheek, to your lips, then the other cheek. “you feel okay?” he’s mumbling, thick eyebrows laced tightly with concern. “was i too rough?”

“no, no,” you’re sniffling and pulling him closer. “no, jus’ . . was just too good, i think.”

your confession makes him smile, makes you see nothing but two rows of gleaming, white teeth and sharp incisors before he’s kissing you again. “too good, huh?”

"please shush, nahoya," you grumble. something in you knows you shouldn't have admitted to that because you know he'll never let you live it down for as long as you both breathe.

"i was too fuckin' good."

❤︎ — all rights reserved ! © pwncez !

[vixensbrainrotts]

EEK I THOUGHT I LOST THIS ONEEEE!!! Nah but this is one of my faves, a guilty pleasure if you will! Kisses babe, this one is amazinggggg

[vixensbrainrotts]

hiii i just discovered ur blog and I love it and was thinking if you could write for smiley/Baji and reader that plays sports(volleyball maybe) and maybe they meet when she hits them accidentally... Feel free to ignore my request💝

Lovestruck — Nahoya <Smiley> Katawa

Content: ask-based

Tropes: Volleyball player! Reader, (kind of) loser! Nahoya (he is a loser you cant tell me otherwise)

Warnings: brief mention of fainting, cursing, (slight disrespect towards the end but idk?)

Summary: Nahoya isn’t an easy match, especially not easy to take down, but against your mighty float-serve he stands no chance.

Vixen‘s two cents: Hello! I got a new keyboard so writing feels like butter right now :) smooth. Yeah anyway sorry this took forever to write but i LOVE this request, i love playing Volleyball so im so happy that i could write about it as one of my passions. Anyway, i hope you enjoy this cause i enjoyed writing this! (Also tell me why whenever i write for Smiley he‘s always getting beat the fuck up? Lol)

Bouncing the ball on the court a few times, you smiled, hearing your teammates cheer for you, calls of „Float serve!“ and „Serve it up Girl!“ echoing through the hall. Fulfilling your little pre-serve ritual you bent your knees and crouched a little, batting the ball towards the floor with one hand three times before chucking the ball upwards. Overcome in a rush of confidence thanks to your mates, you took a short run-up, jumping and stretching in the air, swinging your arm in one powerful motion to reel up for a nearly perfect serve.

The ball cut through the air, soaring over the net. The opposing Libero sizes up, readying herself for a receive but at the last moment she decided that it must be falling into the out, leaving it be as she hears her teammates suspicion. Shouts of „Out!“ and „Leave it“ made you falter a little as all eyes were on your ball, watching it meet the ground, right inside the upper right corner of the court.

The whistle blows and the Referee gestured to your half of the court. „In!“ He gestured with his hands sticking up and you and your team, along with a few onlookers erupted into cheers. „ACE!!!“ your teammates chanted shortly, celebrating the point before returning to positions. The ball gets tossed back to you, and the whistle counting eight seconds in which you have to serve blew.

Pounding the ball on the floor, you completed your ritual again, your teammates calling „Again!“ and „Get‘em!“, and you threw the ball into the air again, winding up for another powerful blow. You hit the ball, sure that this would be another point when the referee blew the whistle unexpectedly, mid-serve. Confusion hit you, afraid you had served a foul ball, or waited too long, but when you looked towards where the ball was flying, you noticed why the whistle sounded.

There was someone on the court. Seemingly in his own world he cut the corner of the court, unaware of his surroundings, most of it shrouded by his hair. The ball was barreling towards him at top speeds, and despite the collective calls of „Watch out!“ and „Ball!“, he barely had enough time to respond when your ball hit him, violently smashing against his head and ricocheting off, rolling towards somewhere in the distance as he‘s knocked off his feet.

Guilty, you stood still in shock for a second, the hall quiet as nobody makes a sound as people looked between you, him and the ball. In a haste moment you jolted alight and broke into a quick jog over to him to see if he was alive.

—

Nahoya had simply been tasked to grab a mop from the storage room in the gym to clean up some of the mess one of his pranks had caused. Nothing more nothing less. When he entered the gym hall , his mission was clear: in, mop, out. Glancing into the hall he noticed that there was a game of volleyball going on, but decided that he could just quickly cross the court to reach his destination.

He regretted that decision now, lying on the floor, clutching the side of his head where he fell. His world was spinning, and not in the way it did when he got hit during fights. This was a wider surface area, and he felt himself get queasy as he swore that his brain was rattling from the impact.

„A— ou—o- ay??“ a voice faded in and out of his ears, eyes cracking open to look at a pair of gym shoes. „Huh?“ he grunted, trying to figure out speech again. „Oh—- od—- he— as- a—con- usion!“ his ears picked up, but the cut off words dont register fully. Instead, his eyes traced up the legs that stood before him, a pair of kneepads catching his gaze shortly before it moved further up. Entranced, he let his eyes map out a pair of (rather wonderful) thighs before the angle he was lying in forced him to look at the face of his saving grace.

„Wow..“ he whispered as he studied your features, the world behind your face blurry as you leaned down towards him, kneeling as a hand came up to his neck to check his pulse. You wove your free hand towards something, somewhere, and then he felt the world slip from underneath him, his hearing muffling as a vignette closed in around the corners of his vision. From one second to another, he went slack on the floor, everything turning black.

—

Completely panicked, you wove over some of the bystanders, asking for assistance to get him over to the sidelines for some immediate attention. In a rush, his body was lifted onto one of the spare equipment room at the side, the referee calling for your team to get back onto the field and play on, trusting you to treat the fallen boy. You were team captain after all.

His pulse was stable, you decided after a minute or two of counting and feeling the thumping on the side of his neck. Slightly relieved that you didn’t just commit murder you rolled him onto his side, shifting into stable position that aimed for him not to choke on his own tongue. You kneeled beside him, holding a damp wash cloth in one hand, a waterbottle clutched in the other.. Slowly and carefully you got closer to his face and whispered “please don’t flinch” as a quiet warning before pushing his hair out of his face to drape the cloth over his forehead.

Once the task was done, you remained sitting beside him, monitoring him for any movement or potential issues. There were a few moments of pure silence between you two which you spent just kind of observing him. You didnt think that you’d seen him before, not recognizing a haircolor as bold as orange to be very familiar to you. Your eyes traced his neat curls as they laid over his head, the coils shining slightly. The slope of his nose was oddly pretty, and you found yourself envious of the little gem that sat precious on his left nostril. His lips were full and lush, the same flushed shade as his cheeks, and judging by the twitch of his eyebrow he might be waking up soon.

His shallow breathing picked up, his nose twitching as his eyelids started to flutter, a soft noise falling from his lips. You readied yourself with the bottle of water you had picked up earlier and shuffled closer to him to ensure that he doesn’t panic too hard when waking up in the foreign space of the storage room.

„Hi…“ you carefully called out to him, hoping that your voice would serve as a smooth transition between conscious and unconscious. „please don’t scare, you’re alright…“ you continued, tapping the bottle nervously as he groaned again, eyelids fluttering open but screwing shut again due to the bright lights.

„Mmmh, what?“ He mumbled, voice gravely as he spoke. „Hi there, you’re currently in the open storage room connected to the gym so dont be confused.“ you said softly and watched his eyelids slowly crack open, now receptive to the bright overhead lights.

„Why am I on the floor though?“ The boy mumbled, raising one of his arms to swipe a hand across his face, pulling the washcloth off his forehead as he regained his bodily sensations. You cringed a little before you answered, a tad embarrassed. „Youre laying on the floor because you briefly lost consciousness-“ you were about to elaborate, but his confused grunt cut you off.

„What? Who did I lose to? Lemme- lemme rematch!“ he sounded distressed, now moving to get up- something he clearly shouldn’t do- so you stopped him before he could sit up fully. Planting a palm on his chest you pushed him back down, to which there was little to no resistance. „You lost to my serve, no rematching to be made.“ you clarified, leaning over him with the water bottle in your free hand.

„What? To you?“ he opened his eyes all the way, having adjusted somewhat well to the bright lights as he got a good look at you for the first time. His eyes widened, albeit still a little drowsy „Oh… damn Mama…no wonder I lost to ya, you could lay me down any day..“ You both gasped in synchronization as you flinched back from him, hand retreating from his chest as you stared down at him. He, likewise just as bewildered as you stared back up at you, a hand slapped over his mouth as his face transitioned into a darker, redder shade.

„Oh my god. I didnt mean- it‘s- Im so sorry.“ He stuttered out as he tried to scoot away from you to give you both some space to breathe. „Yeah, its ok, I mean its my fault really, I knocked you out, its clear that you have a little bit of a hazy mind…“ You utter down at him bashfully, a small smile wavering on your lips as you think about the absurdity of the situation.

„No no no I mean thats really inappropriate and I really shouldn’t have said that at all, I promise I don’t mean to be disrespectful but you’re so… you know? And maybe I should just shut up actually cause I think the more im talking the worse im making this all..“ He trails off as he comes to sit up fully, eyes filled with guilt as his focus darts around the room.

„Hey, hey, its alright! I mean, yeah ok maybe that was not what I was expecting but uh… you know… maybe take me out beforehand?“ you giggle as you scoot closer, taking the wet washcloth from where it lay forgotten beside him. Chuckling, you fold the cloth and set it, along with the water bottle, down next to him. „You‘re kinda cute, you know?“ you smile down at him as you stand up completely, boldly winking at him before turning on your heel to leave.

„Wait you serious? Hold on-“ he called out after snapping out of his daze, and you felt your smile widen across your face, cheeks tingling in a warming sensation. „Rest. Stay there until you feel better, they need me on the court, I’m the captain after all.“ you walk out of the open storage room, briefly throwing the boy a look over your shoulders.

„Im Nahoya by the way!“ he called out to you when he noticed your attention, and in smooth response you pulled your hair over your shoulder, revealing the lettering of your name on your jersey as you took your spot on the field. Your teammates noticed, immediately, and started giggling and whispering, teasing you about Nahoya who was now setting down at the side of the court, next to a line-judge he seemed semi-familiar with.

-

„Dang…“ Baji muttered and shook his head. „Knocked out clean with a Proxi-slap…“ he pondered, a hand on his chin as his eyebrows furrowed. „Baji-San i dint think that that‘s-„ Chifuyu was going to correct him, but Baji kept talking „That chick must have one hell of a punch then...“. Nahoya nodded, almost proud as he recounted it. „Yeah! It was so forceful i thought i was being hit by a train! You know what, it‘s sorta comparable to one of Hanma‘s hooks…“ the crowd of captains and vice captains ah-d and ooh-ed at the comparison.

„And you stayed there? Watching? They allowed you?“ Souya questioned, in slight disbelief. „Yeah! Oh my goodness you wish you could have seen…“ Nahoya swooned, fanning himself with one hand at the very thought. The surrounding members of Toman grumbled and snickered, some giving encouraging whoops to the twin.

„So a Volleyball-player…“ Pah-chin coughed, „She got—?“ „Thighs! Thighs for days oh my lord you wont believe it! And her smile! The way her hair falls, when she cheers and celebrates…“ Nahoya cut him off, a dreamy smile streatching across his face as he started to recount every thought he had when watching you.

The others shared a knowing glance and Mitsuya snickered „Damn, she‘s got you bad, huh?“ Nahoya stopped and looked at him, eyes blank as he thought for a second. „Yeahn… I guess…“ he trailed off to which Draken burst out into a loud laugh.

„She done ‘nd tamed one of the wildest guys I know, damn! You said she knocked you clean out? With a serve? You know damn well that shawty could beat ya ass!“ Draken went on, leaning onto Mistuya for support who joined the laughter.

„Hey listen! You‘ll shut ya mouths once you see all she brings! Full package I tell ya!“ Nahoya scrambles to defend his dignity (or yours, he wasnt quite sure).

„Right Romeo. You‘ve got her number then?“ Mitsuya quizzed, to which Nahoya fell silent.

„Shit.“

[vixensbrainrotts]

I love ur writing and content please don't die

🫡🥰 I’ll try my best thanks!!

[vixensbrainrotts]

Happy Birthday, lover — Manjiro <Mikey> Sano

Content: specialty post

Tropes: established relationships, it‘s readers birthday, kind of a continuation of the ‚Committed to you‘ series

Summary: it‘s your birthday! Let‘s see what your darling lover has in store for you once you get home…

Vixen‘s two cents: Hello hello hello! This is a special piece because guess what? It’s @anahryal ‘s b-day!!!! Happy birthday moot, hope you‘re treated well, and all the best for the coming year! Anyway, i was a little unhappy with this, i cant do half as much as i usually can cause im like really sick right now (its stunting all my intelligence) so yeah, sorry if this isn’t up to standard… either way, happy birthday and enjoy!!!

Mikey had never really put much effort into anything, things just had a tendency of coming to him. But for this, for today he had planned in and out, checked up and down to make sure that everything was working out.

In terms of gifts he learned to be resourceful. From checking your perfumes to see which ones you were running low, on to crossing the ethical boundary of snooping into your journal to check the “wanted” list of items you fancied.

He double checked with your best friend for your favorite type of flowers and even attended a Mitsuya-special baking course to personally make you a cake.

It was a struggle and a half to try and time the whole thing right, between grocery store runs to get the supplies and decorations to somehow getting you out the house to hopefully set everything up.

Now he sat at the kitchen counter, completely winded and waiting for your arrival back. He had everything done and dusted, and was just eagerly awaiting your arrival.

When he heard your car pull up into the driveway, he snapped out of little phase and brushed off the dress shirt he had put on earlier, breaking into a quick jog towards the living room where he had set everything up.

There were garlands hung across the room, and the coffee table had been turned into a gift display table. A large bouquet was placed in the center, wrapping paper and gift bags coordinated to match the floral display.

The cake was placed on the formal dining table, two sets of dishes, glasses and utensils set out for the both of you to dine on later.

Mikey’s eyes drifted over everything once more, and widened once they spotted an unlit candle on top of the fire place. That’s right, he had bought a specific candle for today, one he had found when shopping for ingredients for the cake. It caught his eye, and when he gave if a big sniff, the scent didn’t seem too bad either.

With a smile on his face, he grabbed the candle and pulled a lighter from his back pocket. The lighter was yours, he noted, looking down at the pretty pink plastic as he lit the ‘birthday cake’ candle. Fitting.

He heard your keys jingle in the lock and caught himself almost giggling as he made a quick pace to meet you at the door.

“Majiro! I’m home!” You called out, voice rather cheerful (seemingly in a good mood, Mikey said a quick prayer thanks). You turned around to face the door when hanging up your coat, unaware of your darling husband creeping up behind you.

Slowly, Mikey approached and waited for the right moment to strike. “Mikey?” You called again, just about to turn around when a pair of hands were clasped across your face, shrouding your vision.

“AHH!”

Your hands flew to your face, grabbing at those that held your eyes shut, a bit more than derailed as your scrambled to gain recognition. You were about to scream again when your fingers found and felt the very familiar ring that donned the left hand over your face.

“Mikey?” You said, entirely confused as you finger the ring again to confirm your suspicions.

“Hey baby.” His voice mumbled into your ear, and you could hear the smile in his voice. “Manjiro what are you-?” You started, but felt him push you forward to walk, taking baby steps towards what you thought to be the living room.

“Trust me.” He spoke as he guided you towards somewhere within your shared home. “Alright..” you trailed off, now smiling a little unsurely yourself.

You allowed him to push you towards somewhere, giggling a little as he chose this to be a good moment to place tiny little pecks down your neck and nape.

“Mikey shouldn’t you be focusing on where we’re going or-“ you smiled as you held his hands. “Nah don’t worry baby, we’re here anyway.”

In an instant he pulled his hands away to reveal your living room, decked out and dressed to the nines, a cute display set up, just for you. “Happy birthday sweets!”

“Oh my gosh, Jiro…” you turned around to look at him. “You did this all for me?” You looked at the display, seeing the flowers and the gifts all daintily wrapped.

“Yeah… i mean why wouldn’t I? I had the day off anyway, so I figured I should do something sensical, especially cause it’s your special day, right?”

(That’s a lie, he groveled on his knees to one of his coworkers to switch shifts and spent half of his overtime to get today off.)

“Manjiro…” You turned to look at him again, eyes glossing over with emotion. “Thank you…” you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him into a tight hug.

“Anything for you.” He hugs you back and nuzzles into your hair, swaying you lightly from one side to the other. “Now please babes let’s eat the cake, I’ve been resisting it since I got done with it.” He pulled away with a wide grin.

“You made me a cake?!” You gasped in delight as you looked at the beautifully decorated delicacy that sat on the dining table. „Yeah, you dont want to know what i went through to get it right…“ Mikey trailed off remembering the many, many failed attempts at cake that Mitsuya had to coach him through.

„Oh my goodness Mikey… this is, i- thank you so much!“ You preached to him again. „Alright now, how about you open those gifts so that you can thank me more and then eat cake together?“ He had a twinkle in his eye as he pushed you towards the gifts with a hand placed on the small of your back, giving you an encouragement to progress further into the room.

„Open this one first!“ he plucked one of the bags from the display and thrust it in your hands, sitting himself on the couch in neat anticipation. „Alright…“ you smiled at him and pulled the topper paper from the bag, revealing… „Manjiro! How did you know?“ your voice sounded even more cheerful than he had anticipated, and the mini-Mikey inside his head did a celebration dance.

„Well, i know you love those crafty things, especially the knitty gritty things that i cant wrap my head around… You know, i wanted to make you a heart out of those yarns that you always use to decorate that bag, but after trying and failing about a million times, i figured i should leave it to the professionals… also you wouldn‘t shut up about fluffy yarn so…“ he monologued to you as you scanned the insides of the bag, pulling out the colorful yarn.

„And baby, i was thinking, for all my hard work and cause you love me and all such wonderful things that you could maybe, just maybe, and hear me out on this… make me one of those delightful scarves you‘ve been making for all your friends but not me??? Preferably not in pink though, ill take a red one instead.“

You giggled heartily and pulled him into another hug. „Of course i will, it‘s only fair, right? Yarn is like, super expensive so yeah, i wouldn’t mind giving back…“ you smiled at him and pulled away with a quick peck to his cheek, to which he cradled his face with a bashful expression.

All these years that you spent together, as friends, as lovers, as a couple, as fiancée’s and now… married… No matter how much time would pass, Manjiro knew that he had found everything he wanted in you, and he‘d be damned to let it go.

[vixensbrainrotts]

Do you take multiple characters when requesting?

Yes I do!! Feel free to send me a prompt with a few charts attached to it, lemme see what I can do with it!

[vixensbrainrotts]

Hello!! I wanted to say that I love everything of your latest fic ‘ Committed to You’ — it’s very wonderful and lovely!! Thank you for writing such a beautiful story❤️ If you have the time, would you write the next part (the story of Manjiro proposing to her)? I’d love to read the continuation!

Thank you so much, thats so sweet!!! seriously you melt my heart, thanks for motivating me to keep writing this one!

The part two is now available here!

Let me know how you find it, I had a lot of fun writing it, so I hope we can share some enthusiasm! Thanks for your support again <3!

[vixensbrainrotts]

could you do the 2nd part of ‘committed to you’ where mikey proposes?? pls i’m dyingg to know i love your writing

Now available here!

thank you so much for the support btw!!! glad to know that you're enjoying my content, and I hope you end up liking this one as much too <3

[vixensbrainrotts]

Committed to you (part 2) - Manjiro <Mikey> Sano

Content: part two to Committed to you (read here)

Summary: After vigorous brainstorming and planning, Mikey can finally propose to you in the City of Lights.

Vixen's two cents: Thank you so much for the support on the first part- quite a few people ended up wanting a second part so who was I to deny them? I had so many ideas writing this, I hope this isn't too all over the place... now let's see how Mikey does it... enjoy!

It took Mikey and co. a short month to put together the perfect trip around Europe, the time slot falling into early summer- perfect for sightseeing and splurging tourism. With the help of Emma’s expertise in pretty places and things, and Ken’s keen eye for price, the three of them ended up with a perfect booking schedule. The request was sent, the confirmation received, and the bills paid, which rendered the trip ready to go.

The only part that was missing was you. Mikey had yet to surprise you.

That was his current mission as he sat on the couch, thinking deeply about how he was going to present this. You were coming home in less than 15 minutes- not enough time to make or order a cake, not enough time to set up a big confetti-filled explosion, not enough time to make a song to serenade you with… What to do?

Mikey glanced at the clock again, eyes widening when he realized that two minutes had passed already! He ran a stressed hand through his hair and centered himself for a moment and reminded himself to think… what could he do? What is he doing?

That’s right. You and him- eight weeks- Europe. Now he just has to tell you all about it, and hopefully not spoil his plans of proposing to you whilst he’s at it. What to do, what to do…

-

Coming home from work you were very much ready for the coming week off. It was a regular Wednesday, on which nothing special or specific happened but it tired you out nonetheless. Unlocking the door with a swift jangle of your keys, you tossed them on the little tray at the side of the entrance, taking off and hanging your coat in the same move. Kicking off your shoes you sighed a bit at the relief.

“Jiro?” You called, a bit confused that he hadn’t come to you yet. Normally he would have been with you by now, at least shouting a quick welcome when he heard you come in (which he surely had). You took your purse with you towards the living room where you hoped to find him. When you stepped into the room however, your eyes nearly popped out of your skull. “Mikey?”

He stood in the middle of the living room next to two of the largest travel suitcases you owned, dressed in a layered Ralph Lauren Pullover overtop of a dress shirt, the tails hanging out sloppily from the bottom and the collar half-unfurled. Atop his head sat a beret, your beret you noted, taken that he didn't own any, and your eyes drifted to his face, jaw hanging open. On his face was a heavy streak of sunscreen over the middle of his nose and across both cheeks and a very scraggly moustache was drawn onto his upper lip, probably with your eyeliner. Safe to say that he looked absolutely ridiculous, if not even a bit cute.

"Oh my god, Mikey what-" you started but he interrupted you, apparently springing to life with an almost rehearsed poise. "Ohhhh mon amourrrr~~" He purred from where he stood, putting on a heavy French accent and hollowing his cheeks to make his face seem slimmer. "Would-eh you like to accompany me around the world-eh of the Cheri Europé?" he wiggled his eyebrows at you for good measure and gestured to the luggage. "Do not worry dearest, all your circumstances have been cared for you, all that you must do is comply to my affections."

Your grip on the purse loosened and you felt it slip out of your grasp, falling to the floor as your hands cupped your smiling face. "What? Mikey, I only have a week off and-" He cut you off again, not even letting you finish thinking the sentence as he came in closer to you, circling his arms around your waist and pulling your body to his with a firm tug. "I said, all your circumstances have been attended." He mumbled as he stooped his head down into the crook of your neck and reigned a tiny little assault of affection of the skin, making you laugh heartily.

"Mikey! Oh my- Wait! Stop! I-" You laughed, looking into his eyes properly when he finally pulled away. "Really?" You asked, letting the prospect set in your mind, and you found yourself giddy just thinking about it. A vacation to Europe of all places? What a dream!

"Yes really. Eight weeks, you and me, all of the prettiest places in Europe. Unless you don't want to, in which case I don't know what I'd do because we'd be flying tonight."

-

That's how you found yourself packing in an almost childish joy, despite being rushed by the short notice, and then driving to the airport on a Wednesday afternoon to catch a flight to Sweden, Stockholm, where you found your tour would be starting. You had tried to press Mikey for more details about where you'd be headed, but he wouldn't give any information.

Whilst this annoyed you greatly, in retrospect you were almost thankful that he chose to do it this way, surprising you with new places and sights every time you travelled across boarders.

Down the Scandinavians- Sweden, Norway, and the Netherlands, where you took about a million pictures of landscapes, wildlife, and urban and rural heaven, and even got to observe northern lights on a warm summer night.

A short detour to London, watching theatre performances and standup comedians, visiting the Palace and Big Ben, and strolling through Central Park before continuing through Belgium where you tasted a million different sweets, and even got to attend a chocolatier course- courtesy of Mikey's planning.

All in all the past three-and-some weeks had been perfect. Now the two of you are situated in France, Paris, with a quaint little AirBnB that has a wonderful view of the Eifel Tower.

Speaking of, that was tonight's destination after a ride over the Seine.

Mikey offered you a hand as you stepped off the boat, thanking the helmsman with a quick "Merci!" as you turned to face him again. "That was wonderful, I would have never thought that the Seine was so long!" you gushed to Mikey, holding onto his arm as he started guiding you away from the docks and towards the direction of the Eifel tower.

The two of you chatted up about nothing on the way, you hung pretty off Mikey's arm, mindlessly telling him about something wish he could focus on, but something very specific kept him from it.

He could feel his heart start beating harder as the two of you got closer to the place and as the clock ticked on closer to the time. The very then and there he had promised himself he would do it.

His hands felt clammy in the pockets of his shorts, one hand fingering at the paper that contained the entire speech written out, just in case he completely blanked and forgot. His other hand was occupied half opening and closing the smooth, black silk box that sat pretty in his palm.

"But in the end, who are we to judge, right?" you seemingly finished your thought, looking up at him expectantly. Mikey's eyes widened a tad as he realized that he hadn't been listening to you at all, way too worried about.. other things... so he opted for the tactical agreeing head nod, even mumbling a soft "yeah" to make himself seem more convincing.

You, however- always the observant type- noticed his slightly off behavior. "You alright, love?" you asked him, turning to face him completely to make eye contact. Mikey felt himself flush in the cheeks a little, shrinking into his polo shirt. "Yeah, yeah don't worry. Maybe I'm a little low on sugar or something..." he drifted, half-smoothly saving the situation.

"Oh," you state, concerned, as you check your purse for something and then scan the nearby area. "Well, how about you sit down and I'll go buy some crepe from that stand over there? There are some benches over there, maybe you can grab us a seat in time for the glittering to start."

Pleasantly surprised at your offer, Mikey nods and goes to find the most aesthetically pleasing bench he can find, giving him a few crucial moments to prepare himself. Breathing deeply he runs his finger over the slit of the silk box again, rehearsing the words one last time before he fumbled his hands to his back pockets, pulling out his phone.

"Oh, please propose to her in front of the Eifel Tower! Or the Coliseum! Or on some romantic Bridge in Venice!" Emma swooned and held her hands over her chest, hearts in her eyes.

Mikey smiled at her and nodded again. "I'll try and film it if I can."

Mikey remembers the moment not much of a month ago and smiles down at his Lock Screen: an image of you blowing kisses at him through a mirror when you were getting ready for your ninth anniversary this year.

Nine years strong, through thick and thin but always side by side. Fierce loyalty and fierce love, and finally he would put a ring on it.

Snapping out of it before he lost too much time reminiscing he set up the camera in an appropriate angle against the back of the bench. checking himself in the reflection one last time before he was satisfied, he chose the "video" option and hit the red record button as he heard your footsteps approach again.

This is it Manjiro. Dont fuck it up.

He turned to face you again as you walked closer, the promised crepe in your hands as you smiled widely at him. "Im back!" you chirped, clearly excited by the soon-to-be world-famous sparkling of the Eifel Tower.

"Hey Baby." Mikey replied and took the sweet teat from you as you presented it to him, laying it on the bench on some napkins out of sight of the phone. Before you could say anything he turned back to you and grabbed both your hands with his, looking straight into your confused eyes.

"Listen, you don't get how long I've been trying to do this for, and the adventures I've been on trying to make this all happen. I owe a few people a real number as thanks, and I hope that I can make this even half as special as I envisioned it being..." He breathed for a second, collecting himself one last time and making sure that his voice was working all the way.

"Since we were fifteen it's been you and I, since we've been eighteen we've lived together, and since we've been twenty-one I've been wanting to do this.

I want to honor you, and how you've supported me with nothing but unconditional love for all this time, and I want to thank you for all the things you've stuck with me through. Good and bad you didn't falter, and even at the worst of times, when I was spent and exhausted, I watched you fight for our love; for us.

I think that's one of the things that I admire about you the most. One of the things I fell in love with you because and one of the things I love you for now. You're incredibly strong and you're not afraid to fight for what you think is right, not to mention your unconditional beauty.

Time and time again you sweep me off my feet in worlds of wonder and awe, and I hope that I've lived up to that on this trip, and I vow to live up to you in the future.

Let me sweep you off your feet, dearest. Let me be your one, and let me honor you."

You fought hard to keep tears at bay, hands having risen to cover your mouth as you stared at him. Nerves were tingling in your entire body as if there was liquid glitter running through your veins. Your breathing hitched as you watched Manjiro sink onto one knee and produce a little box from his pocket in one swift movement.

"Will you marry me?"

He presents the open box to you, allowing you to look at what had to be the most perfect ring ever. White gold, diamond-encrusted excellence shined back at you from the satin-lined box, glinting and sparkling even by the sheerest reflection of light.

It didn't take you long for you to respond, nodding violently against your hands, locked in the moment as you cried "Yes!", tears slipping down the planes of your cheeks.

What seemed to be inconspicuous onlookers erupted into a small applause, some whistling and hollering celebrating the proposal as the world slowed down for just a moment. Your hands came to wrap around Mikey as he kneeled on the floor, pressing his head into your chest as you pressed your nose into the crown of his head. Mikey's arms tighten around your waist as you feel him tremble against you, his hands shaky as they grip your blouse.

The world around you started twinkling, bathing you both in a flashy bask as the Monument behind you started glittering behind you. When you pulled away, Mikey's face was streaked in tears, his nose a little red.

Puling his hands from around you he presented you with the box again. "I wanna.." he started, carefully plucking the ring from its pollster, "Lemme..". You caught on and gave him your left hand, letting his shaky hands hold yours as he pushed the ring down on your finger, admiring it on your hand.

He kissed the back of your hand looked up at you and whispered "I love you." Entranced, you leaned down to him and held his face in his hands, allowing his hands to rest on your hips as you whispered back "I love you too." and locked lips with him.

A thousand words were left unspoken as the two of you exchanged affection through the kiss. The gentle caress of skin on skin sending waterfalls of warmth down your body, the sensation spreading from your chest down to your feet and all the way up to your head, a dizzying lightness replacing every thought you had beforehand.

When you two pulled away and shared the ever-lasting lover's gaze, you pulled Mikey to his feet again and fell into his arms. "Thank you Manji, this is so special." you mumble into his chest and squeeze him a little for good measure.

Mikey laughed breathlessly and ran a hand over his face, wiping the tears as he collected himself with a sniffle again. "No problem Baby. It had to beg it was all this or nothing, no joke there." Mikey's hands raked over your back soothingly, holding you against him as he looked over to the glittering tower, gently rocking the both of you back and forth silently as you both admired the twinkling lights.

"We still have that Crepe to eat, you know?" Mikey teased once the glittering ceased, remembering both the treat and the phone which was still recording.

You huffed a silent giggle and pulled away from him. "Yeah, I think we need some sugar right now."

Side by side you two shared the treat, nuzzling impossibly closer to one another despite the hot summer temperatures when Mikey put an arm around your shoulder.

Side by side you two fell asleep together later that night, cradling another dearly, deeply tangled in the sheets as your breathing patterns aligned, and your heartbeats worked in perfect synchronization.

Side by side you two stood at the altar a longer while later, exchanging vows and words of love, "yes"-sing another and kissing, now married, bound to one another indefinitely.

[vixensbrainrotts]

Committed to you - Manjiro >Mikey< Sano

(part two)

Idea/ prompt: Mikey from the last timeline who wants to propose to us but has no idea how to ask so he ask advices from draken and emma

Vixen's two cents: Hi. I know ive been gone for like 2 weeks, I dont know why but it's been hard writing lately. anyway, thanks a million to @anahryal for giving me this idea whilst I was in the pits of my writers block!!! thanks girl, I can't tell you how much this helped. anyway, REQUESTS ARE OPEN and I advise you to use them! now please enjoy my revival piece!

Mikey has thought every possible thought he could have. He had run through every possible situation, every possible outcome, every possible setting, but damnit why was this so hard? He couldn’t do it. Not for the life of him.

He had browsed millions of travel blogs, pondering about every possible spot on earth to take you for the occasion. He had woken in and out of more jewelry stores in the past month than he had ever in his entire life. He had specifically stood in corner stores, reading the wedding catalogues in the magazine section trying to figure out what the hell he was supposed to do.

None of it helped.

Manjiro wanted it so bad. So so very bad. Every white dress he walked by, he envisioned you in it. Every bakery shop he passed, his eyes flitted up and down the fancy display cakes, pondering whether or not it would be good enough. Any time he woke up next to you, every time he joined you in the shower, every time he watched you cook, the urge to sink to one knee overtook him.

He knew he couldn’t make it that simple though. It was too domestic for him, so little of a gesture. He wanted you to know that he loved you, that he would bring you the moon if you wanted it. He needed you to see just how much he appreciates you for sticking with him through everything, and for that he needs a grand gesture.

However it seemed that nothing he could think of was quite big enough, quite meaningful enough, quite heartfelt enough. He was at the end of his wits. For one and a half months- seven weeks he had been fighting this battle alone.

He had made some progress in that time, having picked the ring because when he picked it up he just felt that this was the one. It was a niche store, and he was initially appalled by the average price of the rings, but decided, ah what the fuck? and entered the store for mostly shits and giggles. He was greeted by an expensive looking elderly gentleman who donned a monocle and silk gloves, clearly the clerk, and clearly an expert. He had the longest, most engaging talk with the man, explaining his situation and his frustrations, to which the man nodded understandingly and told of his own story and experience with marigge.

Seven long weeks he had kept it a secret from everyone, and now he couldn’t take it anymore.

He was just about to throw the towel on this whole thing and say fuck it and give up on this whole marriage thing and just accept that he would never make it, when he remembered that he didnt have to be alone in this. Not at all matter of fact. His best friend married his sister after all. If Ken could do it with the pressure of Shinichiro, Izana AND Mikey breathing down his neck, then surely he could do it too, right?

You were out on a girls night with Hinata, Senju and Yuzuha. Emma would have tagged along normally too, but with the addition of a new-born baby, she decided that it would be best to sit out this time. Either way you were out of the house for the night, and Mikey was left to his own devices. You had left him with a kiss and a home-cooked meal (which he felt bad about leaving behind so he completely stuffed himself before coming here) before he gave Ken a quick heads up over the phone that he was coming over with a VERY important problem.

Thats how he found himself here. Standing in the Kitchen of Emma and Ken‘s flat, hands perched on the counter, looking down at the surface, face in a deep frown. „What’s goin on? What’s the problem?“ Ken asks roughly, leaned on the refrigerator as he eyed his friend. Mikey didnt really respond though.

„What problem?“ Emma‘s voice was hushed as she entered through the kitchen door, pulling the door shut behind her, probably for the sake of the baby. „I dont know.“ Ken responded, rubbing his eyebrows „Ask your brother.“ he sighed as he gestured to Mikey who was still staring down the counter.

“Mikey?!” Emma sounded confused and a little concerned as she turned to look at him, eyes flitting between her brother and her husband. “Did you know he was coming over?”

Ken nodded wordlessly. “Said he needs our help about something.” Emma’s head tilted in question but accepted the fact. “What’s up Mikey?” She asked, approaching him and joining Draken at the other side of the counter.

Mikey didn’t say anything though, instead reaching into his pocket and producing a small, black, silk-encased box. He dropped it onto the table and looked up at the couple in desperation. “How do I do it?”

Ken gasped and felt his lips tug into a smile, happy that finally, finally Mikey was wiping you up (he had told him to do so since they were teens).

Emma slapped her hands over her mouth to muffle a silent scream, beginning to voice up and down on excitement as she realized- her brother was marrying you! She thanked the gods that Mikey fell in love with you because there was no better in-law than her Soulsister.

“Ahhhhh! Oh my goodness Mikey! I’m so happy for you! Can I see? Wow! Oh my god Ken are you seeing this!? He’s proposing! Ah I’m so glad!” Mikey nodded in response and let Emma pick up the box and crack it open, revealing the beautiful white-gold wedding band, encrusted with more diamonds than she could count. Notably, one large diamond sat in the middle of the ring, flanked by two smaller diamonds on each side.

“Oh.” Emma breathed. “Ken why didn’t you ask Manjiro for help when picking my ring?” Emma sounded slightly offended as she spoke, glaring down at the ring.

“Nah nah, don’t get it twisted girl. You told me what ring you wanted, I didn’t have much picking liberty other than the price.” Ken waved his hands in dismissal, brushing off her accusations with a grin still wide on his face. He made his way over to Mikey and clapped a hand on his shoulder, congratulating him for the occasion.

“Good on you man! Finally givin it the push, hah?” Ken was smiling as he searched for Mikey’s eyes, but he didn’t look up. “What’s up with the long face? You’re about to propose dude, you should be over the moon!”

Mikey sighed and shook his head. “I’ve been trying to propose to her for months. Months Ken. I can’t do it. It’s never right.”

The couple halted their celebrations and turned to look at Mikey again, Emma putting down the dainty box as her looks turns to one of concern. “What do you mean?” She fingered at the box as she leaned across the counter.

“It’s… i don’t know. Ken made it look so easy when he proposed to you, and Pah-chin was even more mindless about it! I really want to. I really do, but every time I get close, I chicken out because I get scared or because something isn’t right, and I’m starting to think that it’s better if I just… don’t.” Mikey sighed and cradled his head in his hands, his elbows resting on the counter.

Emma and Ken shared a look, a wordless exchange of worry and empathy. "What kind of proposal were you thinking of? Big? Small? Public? Private?" Emma started, hand rubbing soothingly across her brother's back.

"Big." Mikey mumbled into his hands, remaining hunched over the counter. "Big and public. I wanna make sure that everyone knows, everyone sees, I want them all to know. want them to know how much I love her."

Emma's eyes softened and she suppressed a smile, because all in all, it was cute. She had always known her brother to be big and strong, undefeatable, and most of all unwaverable. Mikey always put up the strong front when really, he was hurt. Vulnerability wasn't something that she was used to seeing from him, which made this moment all the more special.

"Do you want to go somewhere with her?" Ken steps in and asks, an idea arising. Mikey only grunts, a noise of agreement sounding through the room. "Do you know what kind of places she likes?" Ken continues.

Mikey's head slowly raises from the position on the table and he stares forward at the refrigerator. "Europe."

Emma and Ken looked at one another again, sensing that they were getting somewhere. "Then take her on Vacation. You both have that long shared break coming up, don't you? Travel through Europe and when it feels right, ask!" Ken said.

"How do I know when it feels right, though? What if it's not the moment?" Mikey asks, still not entirely convinced. "You'll know. I promise you, you'll know. I knew too and I didn't think I had the stuff to ever get married." Ken reassures again, and this time the two share eye contact, and it takes Draken a lot not to tear up.

Draken took a moment in his mind to look at Mikey. He had stuck by his side since they were kids, through thick and thin it's always been the two if them against the world. And now as he looked at Manjiro he no longer saw the unmatchable delinquent he saw ten years ago, but rather a distinguished person with complex thoughts and emotions. He saw a man that felt, a man that cared and a man that loved in front of him, and he couldn't be prouder.

Ken nodded at Mikey, and Mikey nodded back at him. "Yeah. She'll love it! Thanks, I'll do that! Gosh I don't know what id do without you two.."

"Oh, please propose to her in front of the Eifel Tower! Or the Coliseum! Or on some romantic Bridge in Venice!" Emma swooned and held her hands over her chest, hearts in her eyes.

Mikey smiled at her and nodded again. "I'll try and film it if I can."

-

The rest of the evening was spent with the three of them checking about a thousand booking sites, mapping travel routes and destinations, and the occasional cacophony of laughter which led to a grumpy Ryuguji-baby. Manjiro couldn't wait to go with you, he thought as he sat on one of the armchairs, gently running a thumb over the silk box that sat pretty in his hand.