#*through gritted teeth* if i do not do more backgrounds i will not get better at them. but they suck so bad!!

[exercise-of-trust]

thought i heard a red-winged blackbird red-winged blackbird down my road he'll be in there singing his heart out he'll be telling me stories too of where he went to winter last year of how he's going back there too

[kamitv]

▷ First Time?

Synopsis . When you get paired with the campus asshole, Sukuna, for a project, the last thing you expect to learn about him is that he’s a damn virgin. Nor did you expect to be the one to change that. / Pairing . virgin!Sukuna x fem!reader / Content . afab!reader, oral sex (m!receiving), premature ejac, non-curse college au, dirty talk, pet names, degrading, porn w plot, teasing, taunting, filth, etc. / wc . 6k

A/N: ty to the nonnie on my main who asked if I’d ever write virgin!jjk men :3 [MDNI]

Who would’ve thought?

Of all people, Sukuna, a virgin? It just didn’t make sense.

He was this stand-offish asshole who most people respected out of pure fear. He didn’t exactly do parties and yet you could always find him at one. He’d always have some chick on his arm or even in his lap so, in what world would anyone with a brain assume he’s actually never been inside a woman before?

And to make his lack of game all the more unbelievable, he’s even rumored to have a big dick— it’s like some overly well-known campus fact about the guy.

So, again, what reason would anyone have to think the guy was a virgin?

Certainly not you, of course. And you don’t expect to be the only person to find out such information either.

The way you find out is probably even more bizarre than the fact itself. You and him had little to no reason to ever interact with each other. You weren’t some shy nerd who holed herself up in her room all day or anything but you weren’t much of the party type other.

You were stuck somewhere in the middle of all that, vicariously living through some of your friends who had better things going for them.

As such, there was no real reason for you and Sukuna to cross paths. He never even had a reason to acknowledge your existence until the two of you are paired up together for a project in the one class you happen to take together.

——

The background noise is the chatter of your fellow classmates and their own project partners, you find your partner grumbling out a low, “What?” In response to your last statement, having hardly heard a thing you said.

“I said,” You huff, sitting beside the man in question as today marks week two of you being paired up with him for this semester’s project, “We should be meeting up outside of class too. We could get his knocked out in like a day if you just-“

“Oh that,” Sukuna cuts off casually. Seated all slouched back in his seat, his legs sprawled out in that signature manspread of his— he rolls his eyes at your little reminder, “You said somethin’ about that last week.”

You speak through slightly gritted teeth, fighting the headache he’s about to give you from this conversation alone, “All the more reason for you to take it into consideration. The faster we get this done, the less we have to deal with each other.”

As you say that, you glance at him only to find his eyes directly on yours already. He’s got such lazy posture, his head tilted slightly whilst he gazes at you so intently, and his big muscular arms folded across his chest. Even wearing a black hoodie and gray sweats, he still looks as attractive as ever— mean low-lidded crimson eyes locked on yours, tattooed face so beautifully defined, and rosy lips pulled into such an uninterested little frown.

Up until your words hit his ears properly, “The less we have to deal with each other, huh?” Sukuna repeats, narrowing his eyes even further at you, “You barely even know me ‘nd yet you want nothing to do with me already.”

“I know enough about you, Sukuna,” You say with a sigh, “And you hardly contribute to this project as is. Which only proves that everything they say about you is probably true.”

He arches a brow, his interest piquing, “And what exactly do people say about me?”

You let off a light scoff, “Don’t act like you don’t know.”

“But I don’t know,” Sukuna tells you honestly, maroon eyes boring into yours.

You stare for a moment as you try to decipher whether or not he’s being honest right now. How does he not know what people say about him? Everyone talks about his brooding personality very openly.

“They say you’re an ass,” You eventually say to the man.

To which his lips twitch into a slight smirk, “And you believe that?”

“Seeing as I’ve asked you to, at the very least, type your name on this document and you haven’t even done that yet,” You scoff, “Yes.”

The two of you mildly glare at one another for a moment before Sukuna leans up in his seat. Breaking eye contact for just a moment to look at his laptop, he swiftly moves to open up that shared document of yours and types his name out with a heavy sigh.

After which, he’s slouching back again and looking at you, “Don’t believe everything people tell you, woman.”

You roll your eyes at him, “What? Are you not fond of rumors? That still doesn’t negate the fact that you’re an assho-“

“When do you want to meet up?” Sukuna grumbles out almost reluctantly, watching the way you pause and swallow thickly as he catches you off-guard.

He’s almost even intrigued by how quickly you bounce back, despite being caught by surprise, “Friday. Are you free?”

“Unfortunately,” He grumps.

You give him a little shrug, “Good. I’ll see you then.”

And that was it. That was how each and every interaction with you and Sukuna went. Bickering back and forth about him not doing shit to help you with something that’ll affect your grade majorly, criticizing you about being too focused and needing to relax every now and then, and even calling you a stuck-up little brat one time— it was safe to say, you and Sukuna didn’t get along too well.

Not that you minded anyway. He wasn’t your first partner to care little about their grade so, you knew how to deal with these kinds of people by now. Typically, you indulge yourself in their craving to ‘relax’ just once and then they promise to start helping. You’ve gone down that path before and it’s worked for you then so you assume things will go the same way with Sukuna.

Plus, you guess you can give him a slight pass for his asshole attitude, at least he has a pretty face to look at. Dark ink always decorating his awfully smooth skin, deep dark yet beautiful ruby-shaded eyes boring into whatever it is his focus on, and broad shoulders looming over your smaller figure every time he stands in front of you— you can't help but feel both attracted and intimidated by the man.

——

Which is exactly why when you open your apartment door for the scheduled meetup that Friday to crane your head up at him, you’re swallowing thickly to settle your nerves. You’ve never been alone with the man so of course you’re a bit nervous.

Especially with the way he gazes down at you like that’s exactly where you belong: beneath him. His eyes are filled to the brim with intensity and yet he’s only just set them on you. Wearing a noticeable black compression shirt and those signature gray sweets of his, he almost appears as though he’d just come from the gym.

And just as you take in his appearance, he very openly takes in yours— his eyes raking over your body and taking in every single inch of you. After all, just as it was your first time alone with him, it was his first time seeing you dress so comfortably. He doesn’t even try to hide the way he stares at your tits peeking out from the rather thin spaghetti-strap top you were wearing, his eyes soon trailing down slowly to those tauntingly short shorts you had on.

“So,” Sukuna swipes his tongue over his lips and cocks his head to the side, hands stuffed in his pockets and eyes yet to lift from your legs, “Are you gonna stare at me all day or are you gonna let me in?”

You blink out of whatever little daze you were in, having found yourself gazing at his chest far longer than you meant to. It was right in front of your face after all, how could you look anywhere else? And his shirt was so damn tight, the fabric hugging his well-toned body perfectly, so much so that you swore you could make out piercings on his-

Sukuna leans forward suddenly, his face nearing yours to gain your full attention, “If you keep staring at me like that, I’m gonna assume you invited me over for something else-“

“Sorry,” You chirp out as you clear your throat and awkwardly step back a bit to let him in, “You can come in.”

Nodding, Sukuna slips by you and you shut your apartment door behind him. Then, you’re quick to lead him over to your living room where you’d previously been working on your project.

The two of you are hasty to take a seat on your couch, both of you only a few inches apart from one another whilst you lean toward your coffee table and log into your already open laptop. Sukuna’s eyes are all over you as always, studying your side profile, your intent focus on the screen in front of you, and even the way you-

“Did you even bring anything?” You suddenly ask before you glance at the man.

Sukuna quickly meets your gaze, ripping his eyes off of wherever they’d been previously, “Was I supposed to?”

“Sukuna,” You sigh out, “Please tell me you’re joking right now.”

He swallows at the mere sound of his name rolling off your tongue in that scolding tone of yours— he’s heard such a tone from you time and time again and yet, for whatever reason, it never seems to annoy him. 

“I’m not.” He says plainly.

“How are we supposed to work on this if you-,” You cut yourself off and decide not to even attempt arguing with him. Arguing won’t change the fact that he showed up with nothing. “Just uhm,” You glance elsewhere for a second before an idea comes to mind and you place your laptop down and stand up, “Stay here.”

Sukuna doesn’t say anything. He merely watches as you huff and walk off, swiftly exiting the living room and disappearing down a nearby hall. He swears he finds himself looking at you a bit more than intended. Especially as you walked off, his eyes dropping to your ass and those damn shorts of yours.

Even when you’re out of his sight, he still finds himself staring in the direction of which you went, almost unable to look away for whatever strange reason.

That lasts for a few minutes until he snaps out of it and leans back against the couch, tossing his head back and letting out a long sigh. You soon return to find him with an arm stretched along the back of the couch, his legs spread as usual, and his eyes up on the ceiling.

He doesn’t even notice you’ve returned until he feels something placed in his lap. Looking down, Sukuna finds your laptop kindly set on top of him. To which his brows furrowed in confusion and he looked at you to see you sitting on the floor in between the couch and the coffee table with a paper and pencil in front of you.

“What’s this?” Sukuna scoffs.

You don’t even spare him a glance as you begin writing something down, “How we’ll get things done.” He opens his mouth to say something but then you’re looking back at him with a glare, “I already organized the parts of this project that you have to do so, since it’s on my computer, you can work on that and I’ll work with what I remember.”

You wholeheartedly expected him to find something about this to disagree with you on but, to your surprise, he simply nods and redirects his focus to your laptop immediately.

And then, the two of you work exactly like that for the remainder of that little study session.

——

Sukuna’s not terrible to work with when it’s just you and him. If anything, he’s rather cooperative and a lot smarter than he leads on. 

Which is why a solid two hours of productivity flies by surprisingly smoothly with him. If you asked him a question, he answered. Told him to do something, he’d say something snarky, and then do whatever it is you’ve instructed anyway.

It all went so perfectly up until he let out a really heavy sigh, “Alright, I’ve had enough for this.” Sukuna says casually.

He’s been repeating a similar phrase every thirty minutes or so but he usually gets right back to work after getting ignored by you. This time though, you get the feeling he’s serious when he pushes your laptop off of his lap and places it forward on the coffee table.

It’s then that you frown, “Oh c’mon, we were getting so much done,” You comment as you glance back to him.

He shrugs, “I can’t keep looking at that damn screen, it’s giving me a headache.”

“Of course it is,” You utter sarcastically, rolling your eyes whilst you place your pencil down and throw your arms up to stretch, “Fine then, we can take a break.”

Sukuna’s brows lift in surprise. He didn’t expect you to listen to him, “Good.” He hums, “I was getting bored as well.”

You scoff, “Were you?”

“Yeah, can we do something else?” He asks.

Turning around, you rotate the way you’re sitting so that you’re facing him and your back is resting against your coffee table. “Like what?” You muse, meeting his low-lidded gaze.

“Talk,” Sukuna says.

That’s it? He wanted a break to talk to you? Your eyes are narrowing at him before you even realize, “Talk?” You repeat with a scoff, “Seriously?”

He nods, “Mhm.”

“What do you wanna talk about, Sukuna?” As you ask him that, you watch the way his eyes casually slide down to your lips.

Does he mean to be this indiscreet with his looks? Or is he eyeing you down like that on purpose?

The man shrugs, “Anything outside of fuckin’ school.”

You laugh at that, “Okay, I can work with that.”

He tilts his head at you and licks his lips, “Yeah?” Something about your little laugh threw him off. 

“Mhm,” You hum as you look down at your hand, fiddling with your nails a bit, “The rumors… are they true?”

Thrown off yet again, Sukuna’s brows pinch together. “Rumors?” He echoes in a genuinely confused tone, “What rumors, woman?”

The sound of your scoff makes him stiffen in his seat. Almost in an instant, the atmosphere had changed suddenly. “C’mon, don’t play dumb,” You tease, lifting your gaze to him again, “The rumors about you.”

He gives you a perplexed look and it’s almost as though you could see the gears in his head turning. “If you know something, say it.” He demands.

You sigh, “Sukuna, do you seriously hear nothing people say about you?”

Sukuna shrugs, “I don’t care enough to remember. So what is it? What rumor?”

You’re just curious. You swear that’s all it was. And, naturally, since he seemed to have warmed up to you— of course you wanted to know if that rumor about his dick was true. You’re both adults and it’s just a silly question. Plus, with the way he’s been looking at you all afternoon, you’re sure he won’t mind answering you with a simple yes or no.

Glancing to the side, your shoulders lift a bit, “It’s uh, rather intimate.” You hush out.

Sukuna narrows his eyes at you, “Intimate?? An intimate rumor about me?”

His emphasis on himself makes your eyes flick back over to him. “Yeah, are you sure you don’t know what they say about you??” You ask again.

“Positive. Now speak, what is it they say?” Sukuna huffs impatiently, even more curious about this little rumor after the mention of it being intimate. After all, he’s never-

“People say you have a big dick,” You utter way too casually.

So nonchalantly that it makes him choke, a choke you don’t mess with the way he clears his throat and sits up a little. “What?” He rasps out.

You bat those stupidly false innocent eyes at him, “I didn’t stutter,” Your tone dips into something different and he catches every bit of it, “People say you have a big dick, is it true?”

Sukuna clears his throat and for the first time, he glances away from you. Then, he opens and closes his mouth, contemplating his next words carefully before they soon fall from his lips, “You wanna find out?”

His offer spurs a shift in your seat from you as you scoot closer to him ever so slightly, “You wanna show me?” You ask boldly, your tone direct, and not even a flicker of hesitation present.

“Do I want to-,” Sukuna pauses, his eyes scanning the entirety of your seated frame as you inch closer to him, “What?” He huffs, swallowing thickly.

You move to stand on your knees and lean forward to the couch, soon propping your chin up on your palm as you look at him, “Show me,” You chuckle, “I asked if you wanted to show me, Sukuna.”

He blinks, “Show you my cock?”

You shrug, “Yeah.”

The air is so thick right now, Sukuna’s not sure how exactly he can play this off without making a fool of himself. He gulps yet again, only to watch as your eyes start to drop down along his body.

“Stop,” He rushes out, “Keep your eyes up here. On mine,” He commands in a low tone, earning your gaze once more.

And then it’s quiet for a moment. He’s staring at you and you’re obediently keeping your eyes up on his. Sukuna hates it but he doesn’t know what to say or do from here. The last thing he wanted was for you to find out his little secret. 

It’s like he was waiting for a fucking pin to drop, something to break the silence. Yet, his mind was going blank and words were failing him at the moment. He’s flirted with women before, plenty of times actually, effortlessly even— but for whatever reason, as you sit there with those stupidly pretty eyes staring at him, his mind simply flakes on him.

He’s like that for a minute longer until you move. So subtly too, sliding a hand to his thigh, leaning forward slightly, batting your lashes at him, “Sukuna?” You whisper.

His hips are rolling upward slightly at the sound of his name alone. “W-What?” He stammers, mentally cursing himself a thousand times over.

“If you don’t wanna show me you can jus’ say no,” You hum, smiling a bit, “Y’know that, right?”

He scoffs, “Of course I know that, woman.”

“If you know that then…” Your fingers lightly squeeze his thigh and you tilt your head, “Are you gonna tell me or show me whether or not those rumors are true?”

Something simply clicks inside Sukuna’s head. Rose-tinted lips cracking into a smirk, the man spreads his legs further and slouches back into the couch, “Find out for yourself since you’re so curious.”

Your eyes go wide, “What?”

Sukuna scoffs lightly, moving one of his arms from the back of the couch and placing his hand over his crotch. Of course, your gaze sinks down to his veiny hand, watching as he palms a stupidly large bulge in his sweats.

Your breath hitches a bit, “I-I-“

You don’t even get the chance to get it out before he’s cutting you off, “C’mere,” Sukuna hums in that low voice of his.

“What?” You whisper.

You and him make eye contact again and he nods his chin toward the space in between his legs. Nothing can really explain why you follow his gesture and quickly find yourself sitting in between his legs, taking a deep breath as you settle your hands on his thighs.

Sliding your touch up and up and up until your fingers graze his hand. The same hand that was resting on top of that aching bulge of his.

Sukuna slowly lifts his hand up and away, relaxing his arm on the back of the couch again as he stares down at you. Cocking his head to the side, “Well? Feel it.” He huffs.

You don’t even hesitate. Trailing your fingers upward carefully until you feel the outline of his cock beneath your fingertips, gulping as you drag your hand up to cup his length in your hand firmly, and smirking at the way his cock twitches furiously beneath your small touch.

Sukuna’s mouth falls open for a second but you’re too engrossed in feeling him to notice. He lets out a shuddered breath as he watches the way you grope his steadily growing erection. His head even tosses back and his fingers dig into the couch for a moment.

“It is big,” You whisper to yourself, your words only making him twitch more within your hand.

“Fuck,” Sukuna grits out lowly, hips unconsciously lifting to press himself further against you.

His curse earns your attention. You quickly glance up to him and see the way he’s got his head tossed back, Adam's apple bobbing with every heavy gulp he takes, and his chest rising and falling rather quickly.

You lift your hand carefully and decide to test something out. Slowly, you lean forward and just barely press your lips against his clothed cock.

Sukuna’s whole body reacts. He gasps louder than he means to and he’s weaving his fingers through your hair faster than he realizes, palming your scalp as he quickly looks down at you. “T-The fuck are you doing? Huh?” He huffs while gripping onto your hair.

You lift your head a bit but he keeps you in place, despite his question to you. “I just…” You’re not exactly sure you can explain yourself.

And by this point, Sukuna doesn’t think he cares enough to hear an excuse from you, “…You what? You wanna see it?”

All you can do is give him a little nod before he moves his free hand to the drawstring of his sweatpants. Then you're quick to help him tug them down until his boxers are revealed to you— a noticeable dampness in the fabric right where his leaking tip is. Was that because of you?

Before you can dawn on your own questions, Sukuna’s moving to tug his cock out. And fuck is he even bigger revealed before your eyes. With an upward curve, such an angry flushed tip, precum dripping from the slit of his fat cockhead, veins decorating his shaft and-

Shit, you were drooling. How’d you get like this again?? Ah, who cares?

“Sukuna,” You breathe out, ripping your eyes away from his cock just to look up at him.

He was almost panting, dark maroon eyes pouring down into yours, face flushed with different shades of red and pink, his lips parted softly— hell, he looked like he was in heat or something.

Gulping before he answers you, Sukuna clears his throat and his voice is already husky, “What?”

You shift against the floor, your hands relaxing against his large thighs, “Can I-“

“Yeah,” He cuts off. Lord knows if you got that question out he was going to lose his damn mind.

You raise a brow and lean forward, keeping your eyes on his while your lips near his tip, “Yeah?”

The last thing you get from him is a nod before you’re parting your lips. And from that moment forward, it all goes downhill. Everything from the way you’re sitting in between his legs to that initial connection of your plush lips against his drooling cock had Sukuna’s mind spinning.

He’s never been sucked off before. Hell, the farthest he’s gone as far as sexual activities are concerned is a little bit of dry humping. But this? Oh hell, this was his first time and he had zero idea how he was going to keep that information away from you.

Especially when he feels your tongue slip from between your lips and swirl around the head of his cock, kittenly lapping up that slim layer of precum sitting so prettily on his tip. 

“Oh f-fuuck,” Sukuna groans huskily, the hand on your head gripping tighter.

You pull away from him slightly just to take in his expression and the way he tosses his head back. It was almost cute to you. The last thing you expected was for him to be so damn sensitive, you hardly did anything.

His sensitivity only worsens as you finally start wrapping your lips around his cock, feeling him throb when you sink your mouth down on him. Sukuna’s jaw goes slack and his brows twist up. He tries his best to hold it in but he can’t help but moan at the way you leisurely suck on half of his lengthy cock.

Your saliva wets up the rest of his shaft and you make up for what your mouth hasn’t reached yet with your hand, stroking him lightly whilst you take the rest of his girth in and out of your mouth. Rolling your tongue around him, pulling off just to messily spit and kiss on his blushing tip, and slobbering all over him— Sukuna almost fucking kicked something with how good your mouth felt around him.

He’s used his hand and other shit before but holy fuck, nothing, and he means nothing compares to that damn mouth of yours. The way you look with his cock stuffed right in between those lips he’s been staring at for God knows how long— your lips all slick with spit, eyes rolling back the deeper you take him, and tongue sticking out every time you pull your mouth off of him.

You soon slip your mouth off of him and start jerking him off, focusing your tongue on his tip and slithering the wet muscle in between the slit of his cock, lathering your tongue up with his glistening precum. 

The sound of Sukuna groaning makes you look up at him, finding his eyes on yours again. He’s panting, trying his best to look like this wasn’t phasing him but failing in every way with how flushed his face was. 

Your tongue sticks out and your hand continues to slide up and down his cock as you tap his tip on your tongue, making his brows twist up. 

He bites back a throaty sound, “Hah… damn brat,” Sukuna huffs out as if to… degrade you? 

You almost find it cute how clearly inexperienced he is, spitting a fat wad of spit onto his pretty wet tip and then smiling at him, “Sukuna,” You coo, your hand gripping his shaft tighter, “Is this your first time?”

He instantly looks off to the side, the veins in his neck and along his jawline tensing as he grits his teeth. Since he decides to ignore your little question, you take it a step further and slide your hand down his cock, gripping his thick base firmly before taking him into your heavenly warm mouth again.

His expression breaks completely, “Oh shit,” Sukuna moans, his hips bucking up into your mouth as you slide him deeper into your mouth than you did before.

Then his hand is pushing your head down further on instinct and he’s subtly rutting his hips up. You lift your head up despite his constant pushing, soon causing your head to bob up and down whilst you suck him off skillfully.

“Jus’ like that,” Sukuna suddenly groans and you moan around his cock in reaction. To which he keeps giving your mouth mindless little thrusts, “Don’t s-, agh, stop.”

Sucking him deeper and deeper before you move your hand completely, you suck in a deep breath of air through your nose, open up the very back of your throat, and sink all the way down, your lips meeting his pelvis as your eyes roll to the back of your head.

Sukuna kicks something. Probably your coffee table with the way one of his legs extends out so suddenly, a choked-out groan ripped from his throat as your little move was all it took for him to cum. And it’s so much too, hot thick ropes of cum spurting down your throat, his hand holding onto your head for dear life whilst a moan of your name rolls off his tongue.

You’re still sucking too, pulling up only to swallow what he’s gifted you and then stick your tongue out. Laying it flat against his tip, you leisurely lick at him as if to beg for more and now the man’s pushing your head away for the first time.

When you lift your eyes up to him again, you notice he’s got his tattooed arm over his mouth and his lashes are batting softly at you. For such a big man, he was so ridiculously cute right now. Panting, sweating, cursing under his breath as if you couldn’t hear him.

“Yeah,” Sukuna utters suddenly, clearing his throat, “That was… my first… time. I uh-“

“Do you want more?” Is the last thing you asked him before you were sitting back on your heels and he was stumbling to his feet.

You had to guide him through it of course but, Sukuna doesn’t hesitate to stuff your face full of his cock again. You take him so kindly too, obediently sitting there with your hands gripping his thighs for support with every careful thrust of his hips.

He was trying to be gentle with you at first. Partially because he didn’t know what the hell he was doing, and also because he just loved the initial entry into your mouth. Over and over, Sukuna slid his dick in and out of your mouth like he was possessed, addicted to the feeling of you greedily sucking on him.

He was still sensitive from his first orgasm but his cock had yet to go down— twitching inside that sloppy mouth of yours, aching against your tongue, and dripping into the depths of your throat. Sukuna wasn’t much of a talker but he damn sure let out a plethora of grunts and groans.

They were so husk too, coming from deep within his chest, some getting caught in his throat when he felt your tongue flick against a specific vein on the underside of his cock. His fat tip knocked into the back of your throat with a single heavy thrust before his hands were latching onto the sides of your head.

Again, he’s not much of a talker but, something seems to come over him all at once because soon he’s got his gaze locked down on the messy sight of you and he’s huffing out words before he realizes. “Eyes up here, c’mon, hah… look at me,” Sukuna grunts.

Your eyes are completely glossed over as they flutter up to him. A moan vibrates against his skin as you make such intimate eye contact with the man, feeling his hips pick up.

Sukuna nods, “Good girl,” He praises in a low purr, and fuck does that do wonders for you because your legs are squeezing together more than they were before and you’re whining against him. “Fuck, y’like that?” He huffs, earning a sloppy lil’ nod from you.

He then feels you hum, “M-Mhm.” And he’s got chills slipping up his spine in pleasure.

Cracking a lazy, lopsided, and almost fucked-out little smirk, Sukuna scoffs, “Yeah? Fuck, behind all those g-glares ‘nd-, agh, scolding me… this is all you wanted, hm? A throat full of cock?”

His words had you whining again, fluttering your lashes at him as your fingertips dug into his thighs a little. Sukuna eases his hips back slowly, tipping his head to the side as he gently caresses the side of your face with his thumb.

“Messy girl,” He hums deeply, biting his lower lip at the way you’re just drooling for more and more as he pulls himself out of your mouth completely. “Jus’ look at this face,” Sukuna chuckles, “Y’look like a slut cryin’ like that— it’s cute.”

Blinking, you hadn’t even realized you had a tear or two sliding down your face. Your mouth remains open for a second before he moves to rub his tip against your plump lips, smearing your spit and his cum all over the damn place with a little grin on his face.

“‘Kuna…” You whisper, earning a quirk of his brow, “I can’t believe you’re a virg-“

“Don’t finish that sentence,” He grunts, moving a thumb to your chin to widen how open your mouth is for him, “Jus’… keep sittin’ there lookin’ pretty f’me,” Sukuna says.

You roll your eyes at him and all he can do is smile, pushing his hips forward again and easing his cock in between your lips. He slides in slowly until you can feel him pressing right against the back of your throat. To which he keeps himself there for a second, testing that gag reflex of yours and watching your eyes water.

Moving his hand back to the top of your head, he buries his fingers in your hair, “So fuckin’ sexy like this,” Sukuna compliments, feeling you moan in response, “M’gonna cum again, stay j-just like that,” He breathes out heavily, his eyes rolling to the back of his skull before he’s throwing his head back.

And as if to coax his orgasm out, you carefully move a hand to cup his balls, sucking on his cock as best as you can and earning an accidental sound from his throat. The second your palm is felt against him, the moment he feels your tongue slicking against him, Sukuna whines.

Then his thighs are tensing and he’s groaning loudly as if to cover up the sound that just left his lips, filling your throat with his seed and then tugging your mouth off of him with a quick pull of your head. You’re quick to swallow for yet a second time, letting out a needed cough after the fact while he stumbles back just a bit, his calves hitting the couch.

“Vixen,” Sukuna growls.

You clear your throat and send a smile his way, “Not my fault you cum easy.”

Sukuna’s slow to sit back down on the couch to catch his breath, “Tell anyone about this ‘nd I’ll-“

“Oh,” You suddenly purr, cutting him off as you lift yourself up from the ground. He watches with slightly widened eyes as you move to straddle him, “Don’t tell me you thought we were done?”

He’s at a loss for words all over again, his confidence suddenly getting caught in his throat and flying out the window. Your hands slip to his broad shoulders and you lean forward a little.

Sukuna’s hands shakily find their way to your waist as he stares up at you, “You want more?”

You smirk, tilting your head at the dumbfounded male, “Don’t you?” You ask in a sultry little whisper, making his sensitive cock twitch once more. “At the very least…” Your lips slowly near his and he’s losing his breath, “Taste yourself, Sukuna.”

And then your lips are on his and he’s taking your tongue into his mouth. His grip on your waist tightens before he pulls you flush against him, feeling your crotch press right against his cock that’s steadily twitching back to life.

The two of you share a heated and messy kiss, your hips carefully swaying against him to encourage his returning arousal. You can’t really use curiosity as an excuse anymore, can you?

Well, you can. And you do with the way your hands slide down to his chest, your fingers slipping over his nipples to find exactly what you’d been curious about. You flick your fingers over his piercing there and Sukuna lets out a low hiss, prying his lips from yours and sending you a glare.

Not only did that little move of yours make his cock spring up completely but, you also notice the frown on his face.

Smiling at him, “Sukuna…”

“Don’t.” He huffs.

“You have nipple piercings?” You end up asking anyway in a happy little tone.

He grits his teeth slightly, “…Obviously.”

Chuckling, you press a soft peck against his lips and whisper, “Can I see them?”

“No.” He replies.

Part two.

[casuallyanidiot]

Yandere academic rival who really, really wishes he could just get you out of the way.

Dead dove Do Not Eat! MDNI ! NSFW !

Tw. Dubcon/Noncon, bullying, academic pressures, blackmail, oral sex, explicit photos, mentions of baby trapping, yandere, stalking, forced relationship, AFAB reader

Elias had a certain level of respect for you.

You both attended a prestigious university crammed full of students vying to make connections and nab a cushy position for themselves in the future, and while it was easy for him to be on top of the social and academic scenes, he knew you had to work a bit harder. He came from a very wealthy household, one where needing something was merely a concept and not something he ever actually encountered. You, on the other hand, definitely come from a lesser background than him and his circle. Your scholarship and just above the average academics seemed to have pushed you into a good spot to be hoisted into the same realm as him.

But he didn't really think of you much at first.

You were some nameless face that wasn't really worthy of being around him. Maybe he would catch glimpses of your hair, or someone woud mention you in passing and he'd pretend to be intruiged.

It was really when you started to be compared to him of all people that he started to really pay attention.

You were smart, cunning, and ruthless when it came to your assignments. Just like him. Normally he worked overtime, paid industry professionals to help review his papers, his study materials and poured blood sweat and tears into his academics. And yet you somehow managed to be on his level with less than half the resources. It drove him up a wall because if you were nearly as good as him now, then what could you be like if you had the chance?

Elias was like a man obsessed after your sudden, explosive rise in the minds of professors and lecturers alike. He spent hours studying, shirking his friends and other responsibilities just to make sure he was still better than you, to keep you in your place.

He started to focus in more on your personal life, too.

Where on earth did you come from? He's half convinced that you were genetically designed in a lab to piss him off. But the more he glares at the back of your head when you're not looking, the more he's transfixed. You're like a black hole, or some kind of other abyss like metaphor. Fuck, you had him writing poetry in his head. He hated poetry. He hated you. Or at least, he would really like to hate you, but he couldn't. You had the same amount of drive as him, maybe even a little more. No matter what he did, he was forced to acknowledge you, forced to be aware of every twitch of your hand or every flutter of your eyelids. To him, you were something that demanded attention, even if it was taken from him through gritted teeth.

The only reprieve from his spiraling was the fact that you felt the same way about him. He liked to imagine that you were just as obsessed with him, sitting there in the late hours of the night writing down equations with him as your sole motivator.

But then he finds out that he's not even occupying your mind, and he loses his shit.

"Oh Elias? Yeah I guess he's fine. Huh? Rivals? What the- no way I just want good grades. He has nothing to do with it haha."

You just said it in passing when someone teased you about it, and he knew that he shouldn't linger on your words for too long. If anything, it should make him feel better. You had nothing against him, so it meant everything was fine, right? Wrong. It was so wrong.

Elias was seething, nearly throwing a tantrum. How could you not even think about him. Him! You were some piddling, pathetic excuse for a human being, and you had the audacity to not even regard him when he spent nearly every waking moment thinking about you.

He was fine just watching you from the corner of his eye. He was fine knowing that on some level, the two of you had a respectable if not distant relationship. Just because in some aspect, he wanted a piece of you all to himself. And if you weren't going to let him just have a little bit of your life, your passion, your drive, he would just take all of you instead.

He follows you into the library late one night. You're sitting there, glowing in the warmth of the nearest lamp while your pen makes soft scratching noises against the paper. You look pretty. You've always looked pretty to him. You don't notice him as he approaches, and he feels any vestiges of doubt or restraint float away. Even now, as he loomed over you, you didn't even spare him a glance.

The library was empty. He made sure it was so before hand, and he's glad he did. The quite air was shattered by the sound of him shoving you over the priceless lacquered wood desk. Your eyes go wide as you take him in, and his hands fly up to your throat.

"Augh! What are you-?"

"Shut up." He hisses and narrows his gaze. Your pulse is racing underneath his fingers, and he has half a mind not to crush your windpipe into oblivion so that he can be the last one to feel it. "You have no idea," He mutters and leans in close. Your frightened breath ghosts over his skin, and he shudders. Now that he thinks about it, this is the first time he's ever been so close to you. It feels so right. He never wants to be away from you again. Not when you look so damn alluring with tears rolling down your cheeks and your clothes rumpled on the floor by his feet.

He wants you like this always, with your twitching cunt stuffed full of his fingers and your cries filling his ears. Soft, wet squelching noises met each of his ministrations, and a cruel, wonder filled grin spread across his face.

"You have no idea how much you've driven me wild," He laughs. It's a sharp sound that grates on your ears. "How much you infuriate me," Each word is punctured by a thrust, by a curling motion that has you gasping and seeing stars.

If this is what he has to do so that you notice him, so you will just fucking care about his existence more than you would any other speck of dust on the street, then so be it.

It only gets worse from there.

Elias takes photos of you. So many. Ones of your crying face, ones of your leaking pussy, some of him shoving his dick past your puffy lips. Once the camera shuttered and they were in his hands, it was all over.

He played the role of your boyfriend after that.

There wasn't a moment where he wasn't hovering over your shoulder, whispering threats into your ears. He gets you to start doing worse in your classes and on your assignments, and for once, he's happy. He finally has your eyes on him, and if you ever try to leave him or say anything, then he'll make sure you can never show your face around here again. Don't worry, though. He's kind enough to keep it so you won't fail outright. In fact, he'll just slip some money to some of the professors so you don't have to do anything other than sit on his lap and pay attention to him while he actually works for the top spot.

Elias takes you out on fancy dates as if it's any way to soothe the sting of having your life ruined. He pays for everything and practically preens under the feeling of finally getting what he wants. He's such a brat, and he doesn't even care about hiding it when he's with you. Part of the reason why he likes you is he can be his nasty, awful and conniving self and you have no choice but to accept it. He doesn't mind if you're reluctant or stubborn. In fact, he kind of likes it because in the end, you still gave in to have a chance to graduate from a prestigious school. And plus, now you're living the high life with him! It's kind of a win win if you think about it.

He loves having you sit on your knees (a cushion underneath them of course. He wouldn't want you to ever actually get hurt) and taking his cock in your mouth while he studies. You look so cute like that, with your eyes all narrowed in mildly hidden frustration, and he loves it even more when he thrusts into your throat. You always make these little spluttering noises that just drive him wild, and he clamps his thighs around your head to keep you there.

Elias who soon becomes the university's beloved model student. He's not going to let anyone get in his way ever again, especially not after he has you to provide for now. After all, he's got plans for you. Once he manages to put a baby in you, he'll know that your future family is secured, and he's got to support all of you. There's no way he can fail now!

[simp4konig]

nggghmhh... been thinking about Nikto getting into a fight and Reader fussing over him and cleaning up the blood on his knuckles and bandaging his hand as he watches them with hearts in his eyes... 🥺💞

It wasn't that nasty of an injury, really. Really.

You were simply fussing over him too much, as per usual.

His knuckles were split after punching someone in the face perhaps a tad too hard. Just a little. Just hard enough to knock out a few molars, maybe... or a row.

"This will sting," you murmur — though, mostly to yourself, as Nikto isn't particularly talkative, and usually only replies in grunts.

Eventhough Nikto could have gone to medical to have his injuries treated by a more qualified individual, he went straight to you instead: maybe you applied too much pressure on accident when disinfecting the wound with antiseptic and his skin would sting; maybe the bandages were never tight enough and always on the loose side; and maybe your handiwork wasn't as precise or skillful, but Nikto found that simply being around you was enough to heal him.

Yes, it does sting. A lot.

Or it should. Nikto has become desensitised to pain, and it doesn't register like it used to. What should be excruciating agony feels like a dull throb in the background, or the aftershocks felt from a body that didn't belong to him, yet does. Not to mention that he dissociates a lot, so he can make active pain... passive.

So yes, it does sting. It just doesn't hurt.

Nikto lets you do as you please, watching with silent attention the entire time. He keeps his hand limp, letting you hold it however you want...

...Just as long as you're holding it.

The size difference is stark, his large fingers easily encircling your wrist almost in its entirety. He’s big and built, scars and old wounds littered across his pale skin, pink and raw in the places that he was burned. You? You are small and... soft.

Your biceps aren't as big as his. Your muscles aren't as defined as his. Your build isn't as solid, strong, and stout as his is.

Instead, you are… delicate. Like a porcelain doll. And as pretty as one, too. Especially when your eyes are as glassy as they are now, and catch the light at such an angle that it makes them sparkle like rare gems to be treasured and cherished. Nikto's treasure.

Delicate to him, at least; because, no matter how much you insist that you are not petite, not tiny, and not fragile, it further solidifies in his mind how he ought to protect you. Which was annoying as fuck, since you weren't a child that had to be coddled and protected, but it was what it was. It was almost... adorable?

"Is it alright?" You ask, antsy with anticipation, absentmindedly chewing on the inside of your cheek without realising. "Maybe... try flexing your hand?"

He does, surveying your handiwork, twisting his hand this way and that, clenching his fingers into as tight of a fist as he can make it.

"Or... is it, erm... too tight? I-I can wrap it again, if it's uncomfortable—”

“—No.”

Truth of the matter was, it could have been better — any nurse would have been appalled, and hastily bandaged Nikto's hand again for themselves.

But, since it was you that treated him, it was the best treatment which he could have ever asked for.

And it was not "alright", but immaculate, thank you.

With a sigh, you release his hand, and miss how Nikto instantly tenses, missing the intimacy, as subtle and fleeting as it was.

“You get into too many fights," you say, eyebrows furrowed slightly over your eyes in unconcealed disapproval.

A shrug. “Too many people provoke me," Nikto puts bluntly.

“Provoke you how, exactly? By breathing? Existing?"

For a long moment, Nikto was quiet. You were on edge — your sarcasm did not bode well with Nikto sometimes, and it probably came across as malicious and accusatory...

Fuck. Fuuuck...

However, through gritted teeth, Nikto utters: “They… were saying bad things about you.”

Instantly your demeanour changes, and although you attempt to disguise it with a stern expression and cold tone, your features soften considerably, and the furrowed brows and the wrinkles in your forehead smoothen, like ice melting.

“Nikto…”

Nikto, defending your honour? He, punching not just recruits, but other operators, and threatening the commanders with death lest they mess with you? Hurt you? Merely talk badly about you?

Oh fuck... your heart aches, and stubbornly clenches with affection eventhough you ought to scold him, to tell him to stop, to behave rationally... despite not particularly wanting to.

Since the idea of being defended by Nikto is... nice.

Still.

“Nikto... please don't fight people on my behalf.”

Immediately, he becomes defensive, and gruffly grunts a harsh: “Why not?”

You bite your lip. “Because… I don't want you to get hurt. Okay?"

“I don't care if I get hurt. All I care about is you. You're all that matters."

“And I care about you. I care if you get hurt. Because it matters to me. So… don't, okay?"

"...Hmph."

"...Please," you whisper, pleading nonverbally with your eyes. "...For me?"

For you? He would do anything...

...not get hurt, that is.

Next time a person insulted you or made a snarky remark about you in any way, he would hurl a chair at them. Or plot the most inconspicuous murder.

Just as long as he wouldn't get hurt, yes?

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

@blackinkniko @arrozyfrijoles23 @wil-xyz @revnatheshadow @feelya @liminal-chickenskin @zoloftwithdrawalnausea @soupiiiie @lizzy019

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

A/Ns

One Nikto wip done... 12+ more to go!!!!!, 🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉

.....i will only pass away peacefully if i finish these .....

..... then and ONLY then im going to bash my head against a wall so i am in a coma 😇 (JOKE)

Going to miss my anons:(((... Im verysad to have closed my inbox but it was necessary for me 😟...

Anyways, my closed inbox gives me motivation to write as fast as possible so I can interact with them (you!!! <333) again ☺️💞💞💞

[hearts4werka]

NNN day 15 | Unspoken Words

“A pathetic what? Loser? Nerd? All bullshit labels you and your friends love throwing around?”

summary: it’s pouring rain outside and you’re in a heated argument with the so-called ‘loser skater boy’ of the school, Chris about your popular friend group constantly picking on him but you don’t know what you could possibly do about it, in the heat of the moment you accidentally confess your love for him that you’ve been bottling inside of you for ages now, how will Chris react to the sudden confession?

warnings: ANGST, heavy language, pouring rain, arguing, angry love confession, kissing, mentions of bullying & possibly more!

authors note: bro this is coming out so late I’m so sorry I seriously am having trouble keeping up with posting fics everyday I might just change the schedule for every two days so I have time to write the fic so from now on I’ll post NNN fics every two days and I’ll try to make them better too, luv y’all sm and hope y’all enjoy this one

The rain was relentless, pouring down in heavy falls as I stood at the edge of the high school parking lot, glaring at him. Chris, the loser skater dude sat leaned against the slick metal of his beat-up board as water streamed down from his dark hair. It was a pathetic sight, really, the way he was looking at me through the downpour like he truly believed I’d stand there and listen to him whine while my friends were making his life miserable just a few feet away. “Chris, it’s not my fault they’re dicks! Just stand up for yourself!” I yelled, the wind whipping my words back into my face. I could see him flinch at the sharpness in my tone, but honestly? He was pissing me the fuck off right now.

“Easy for you to say,” he spat back, his voice rising above the rain. “You think I want to get into it with them? They’ve made my life hell since middle school. And here you are, acting like you’re above it all.” “Whatever, Chris! You could actually do something about it, but instead, you stand there like a pathetic—” before I could finish my sentence, he cut right into the middle of it. “A pathetic what? Loser? Nerd? All bullshit labels you and your friends love throwing around?” My heart raced as the fight quickly escalated, frustration spilling out of me like the rain pouring down but hee wasn’t wrong, I could feel my friends laughing as they made comments, snickering at his expense as they walked past us.

I was too stubborn to admit that it bothered me, to admit that I felt trapped between two worlds — my friends who I felt loyal to, and Chris, whose passion for skating and the freedom he radiated off him drew me in. “Why don’t you just tell them to stop?” I snapped, fists clenched at my sides. “Oh, right!” he emphasized each word through gritted teeth, “Because you know they’d listen to me. ‘Oh, look at the loser! What a joke!’” He was pacing now, waves of frustration beaming from him as he glared at me. I could tell he was hurt and that made it worse for me. This wasn’t the first time we’d had this conversation, it seemed every time we met, our discussions turned into a bickering fight.

“Why can’t you just grow a backbone for once?” I found myself shouting, the words leaving a bitter taste in my mouth. Chris was the one person I didn’t want to keep fighting with. There was something inside me that pricked me at the thought of him being hurt—something that made me want to shield him from the world, even if I was part of the problem. “I get it, you’re popular, you have to keep up your perfect appearance.” His voice was cold and I hated that I could see right through it. “But that doesn’t mean you need to stand by while they bully someone who hasn’t done anything to you.”

The weight of his words hung between us, and for a moment, we both bathed in the silence, thunder rumbling in the background and threatening to strike. My breaths came ragged, and I could feel the frustration boiling over, a fierce mix of feelings I’d contained far too long. “Do you even care about them?” I shot back, suddenly feeling more bold, “I mean, seriously, do you care that I’m their friend? Or is it just about you being the victim here?” “Maybe if you gave them less attention, they’d stop. Ever think about that?” he shot back with a knife that cut deeper than any of my friends’ insults.

I took a step closer as rain soaked through my clothes, breath hitching as the heat between us crackled. “You think I’m just some heartless bitch, don’t you? You think I enjoy having these petty losers as friends? You know nothing about me,” I spat. He stepped forward, our faces inches apart as the storm raged around us. “So what’s stopping you from saying something? You’re the one with the power in this situation, right?” And just like that, the last strings broke inside me. I wanted to scream, I wanted to shake him and make him understand. “You don’t get it at all, Chris! Maybe I don’t always know what the fuck to do! Maybe—” My voice trembled and before I could think about the honesty I’m about to spill, I continued, “Maybe I just didn’t know how to tell you I liked you!”

His eyes widened, surprise sparkling in them and my heart tripped over itself at my confession. My cheeks burned and beneath the rain, I could feel the silence swallow us whole. The storm around us was like background noise as everything I pooled inside of me far too long, unraveling and honest. My breath caught as he closed the distance, moving so smoothly it caught me off guard. “What are you do—” Before I could finish, he tilted my chin up and pressed his lips to mine. The kiss was sudden as if he was attempting to drown out all the noise in my head, all the rambling I would never stop. It felt electric, warmth pulsing through my veins that made the rain fade into nothing.

When he finally pulled away, my pulse immediately started to race. I blinked up at him, confusion swirling inside of me. “Wait… Did you just really kiss me to shut me up?” He smirked, a shimmer of playfulness in his blue eyes. “Maybe,” he replied and I couldn’t help but laugh, the tension slowly dissolving into something lighter, something filled with hope. “So, popular girl, what now?” I hesitated but with a new fire building inside of me I grinned and said, “We show those little bastard who not to mess with.” And as the rain poured and drenching us both, I realized that maybe, just maybe, we’d figure it out together.

@hearts4werka |

𝐆𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 🏷️ | - @sturnsxplr-25 - @strnzzvsp - @luvvs4chriss - @sturniolosweetheart33 - @pussypie456 - @venusxsturnio - @bagsbyclair0 - @sturnstvs - @dykes4chris - @hoe4matt - @cayleeuhithinknott - @strnilolover - @marrykisskilled - @phone4pills - @emely9274 - @cupiidk1lls - @lily-strnlo - @nicksgirlfriend - @sturniolosiphone - @sophand4n4 - @zombiesturniolo - |

[pitchsidestories]

I loved you in secret II Niamh Charles x Reader

masterlist I word count: 1188

a/n: hi, this one contains hurt/comfort, it's all fictional as always and we hope you guys like it.

Loosing against Barcelona hurt a lot but what was even more painful to you was the heartbroken face of your girlfriend who was coming towards you, the rain pattered steadily on her slumped shoulders.

In the background you saw the Barca players celebrating their entry into the Champions League final.

Even though you knew that not a single word which existed in the human language could ease away the pain right now, you whispered her name: ”Niamh-“

The defender quickly stopped you from talking more by putting a finger to your lips before pressing her mouth on to yours, giving you a passionate kiss.

The move of the brunette caught you off guard because the relationship was supposed to be a secret and you could tell that your team has been watching the two of you.

For another moment Niamh leaned her forehead against yours before she apologized quietly: ”Sorry.”

“Sorry, for the kiss or the loss?”, you frowned at her.  

“Both.”, she admitted in an honest tone.

You wanted to press on for her to keep speaking, but it was Erin who cleared her throat, so your girlfriend and you turned around to face her.

The Scottish midfielder nodded into your coach direction who didn’t look the least amused, even a little disgusted:” Sorry to interrupt you girls. I thought you should know that Emma saw you two.

Much to your surprise Niamh’s reply was: ”Good.”

“Good?! You must be joking, Niamhy.”, Sjoeke scolded the defender, she herself seemed to have appear out of nowhere.

“Do I look like I’m joking?”, Niamh asked the red-haired woman in a tone which didn’t leave a doubt about her being serious.

The German forward quietly moved away from her.

“Come on, let’s go inside, love.”, you told your girlfriend.

“Please.”, she answered, tears in her eyes because the pain of loosing 2:0 against the reigning champions of Europe was still too fresh for her not to get highly emotional about everything which was thrown at her.

In the dressing room a concerned Millie came up to both of you:” Niamh, y/n?”

“Yes?”, you lifted your chin, to look properly into your captain’s worried face.

Sounding much more annoyed Niamh mumbled through gritted teeth: ”What?”  The sadness was still there but you could feel her getting angrier by each passing minute.

“You better get home quickly.”, Millie responded softly.

“Why?”, you raised an eyebrow at her.

“She’s pretty mad.”, Guro explained. Hearing the Norwegian say this, send a shiver down to your spine, you all knew all too well who your teammate meant with she, Emma who’s facial expression from earlier was engraved into your visual memory.

Your girlfriends voice brought you back from your thoughts. “About the kiss in the rain? Emma should be mad about the game instead, how we lost it in the second half!”

She tried to keep her voice steady but the anger seeped through the words.

Millie shook her head calmly: “We all lost that game tonight.”

You sighed, looking at the tall defender: “Yes, but Millie, she has no right to hate us just because Niamh and I love each other.”

A look of empathy crossed Millies face: “No, I absolutely agree. I know it‘s been bothering Niamh for a while now.”

“Yes, she‘s tired of the hate. Especially after Emmas statement on player-player-relationships.”, you continued.

Millie nodded in understanding. You were sure that everyone in the room knew that Niamhs anger came from an accumulation of disappointing games and questionable interviews of your coach.

“But we didn‘t lose because of this tonight.”, Millie reminded you.

Niamh let out a long sigh: “No, we didn‘t.”

“Niamh.” The older team captain tried to find the youngers eyes.

“Yeah?”

“Go home.”, Millies voice was soft, her eyes full of worry for the two of you. Still, you did not dare to refuse her order.

You started packing your bags silently, trying to leave the stadium as fast as possible.

“Bye, girls.”, Niamh said plainly, not looking at any. of your teammates.

Guro forced herself to smile: “Bye.”

“Goodbye.”, you said before following your girlfriend out.

Niamh was unusually quiet on your way home. As soon as the door closed behind you and you dropped your bags, she turned towards you.

“I‘m sorry, love.”

“You don‘t need to apologize, Niamh.”, you replied, carefully reaching out to take her hands into yours.

She shook her head, avoiding your eyes: “No, I didn‘t want to get you in trouble. I was just mad.”

Of course, she made the decision to kiss you in the heat of the moment, led by her emotions and it might have consequences for you too but you could not blame her.

“We all were. And rightfully so, I mean the first leg might have been the best game of the season…”

Your girlfriend let out a tired breath: “It‘s been a weird season.”

“You can really say that.”, you nodded in agreement.

Still in thought, Niamh continued: “I didn't say anything when she first called our relationship inappropriate… but it has been bothering me the whole time.”

“Me too to be honest. But I didn’t want it to affect your captaincy.”, you admitted.

“I should have said something.”

You carefully put your hand on her upper arm and tried to find her gaze: “And loose the armband? She'll leave at the end of the season and we're staying.”

“Now that Millie is back, she will get it anyway.”, your girlfriend sighed exasperated.

“Probably., you paused for a second before adding in a hopeful tone, but we can stop hiding now, right?”

“We should have stopped much earlier. We owe that to our teammates who taught us that it’s okay.”, she confessed quietly while placing her head on your lap.

“That’s true to Pernille and Magda..”, you began.

“Fran and Maren.”, Niamh mumbled while your fingers ran soothingly through her still slightly wet hair.

“Aswell as Jess and Ann-Katrin.”

“And there are young players looking up to us.”, the defender said earnestly.

“Right. I don’t want them to feel ashamed for whom they love.”, you whispered as you wished away the upcoming tears with your free hand.

“Come here.”, your girlfriend asked you to lay down beside her which you did.

With closed eyes Niamh kissed away your hot tears.

“I love you.”, you told her, smiling sadly.

“I love you too. On and off the pitch. No matter what anyone says.”, the defender responded seriously before pulling you into a close hug.

“Do you think you can fall asleep tonight?”, you asked her cautiously.

“I’ll try too.”, she answered honestly.

“Sleep well, Niamh.”, you wished her goodnight.

“You too.”

Both of you were drifting away into an exhausted sleep, this season has been tiring. In the morning you were feeling less sad because you could finally stop loving your favourite person in secret and live your truth.

Even though not everyone might like that fact, but you felt like a heavy weight has been lifted from your shoulders. You loved Niamh and it was okay if everyone knew about your love for each other.

[nahoney22]

I have a request! Works been rough lately, can I get a fem reader/Crosshair with “let me distract you” when he visits her during a tough shift? Love your work, thank you!

-dumfanting

The Perfect Distraction*** 🌊

🫧 Pairings: Crosshair X Female!Reader

word count: 2.6k

Prompts:

• “Let me distract you.”

Plot: When work is non-stop, you feel yourself overwhelmed and in need of a break. Luckily for you, your other half came at the right time.

Authors note: sorry that work has been tough lately @dumfanting 🩵 hopefully things have gotten better. If not, here’s some soft Crosshair to make your day better. (Sorry for the wait)

warnings: NSFW, 18+ only. Explicit Sexual Content and Language. Female Reader, Work Stress, Light Angst, Established Relationship, Massage, Soft Smut, Vaginal Sex, Cunnilingus, Aftercare, Comfort, Kissing, Neck Kissing and Sucking.

A neon sign by the door flickers, glowing with a dim "OPEN" that buzzes faintly in the background. It’s barely holding on, much like you are at this point.

Your shop that you owned for a few years is - to be blunt - a mess. A current maze of half-disassembled speeders and crates of mismatched parts, with wires and hydro spanners scattered across every available surface. The usual hum of machinery sounded through the space, barely masking your own frustrated grunts as you try to wrangle yet another malfunctioning power converter back into shape. But no matter how hard you work, it feels like the pile of jobs only grows larger, while your supply of critical parts dwindles.

Then, you hear the familiar irritating buzz of the door, followed by heavy footsteps. You grit your teeth, already bracing yourself for what’s coming.

A burly customer storms in, his face flushed with anger. “This is ridiculous!” he snaps. “You said my speeder would be ready days ago! What kind of operation are you running here? I’ve been waiting long enough!” He throws his arms up in frustration, knocking over a pile of circuit boards in the process.

You open your mouth to respond, trying to keep your tone steady despite the stress bubbling under the surface. “Look, I’ve got a shortage of parts. I’m doing everything I can—”

He cuts you off, voice rising. “I don’t want excuses! You’re supposed to be a mechanic, not some scrap peddler! If you can’t get it done, I’ll take it somewhere that can.”

Before you can get another word in, a cold, measured voice slices through the tension. “I think you’ve said enough.”

The customer whips around to see Crosshair leaning against the wall, twirling a familiar toothpick between his lips. But there’s nothing casual about the deadly look in his eyes. He straightens up, moving to stand between you and the customer, his hand resting near his blaster as if daring the guy to push his luck. “Back off and leave the lady alone,” he snarls, tone voice dipped with venom as he flicks the pick at the customer's chest.

Their bravado is quick to vanish. He stammers, trying to recover some of his bluster, but it’s clear he’s rattled. “I—I just want my speeder fixed…” He takes a step back, bumping into a tool cart and nearly knocking it over in his haste to retreat.

“Then take it somewhere else,” Crosshair replies coolly, his eyes never leaving the man. The customer mutters something under his breath and stumbles out of the shop.

For a moment, all you can do is exhale, letting the tension drain from your shoulders. You shoot Crosshair a look—half-irritation, half-gratitude. “Well, there goes another job. Not that I’m upset about it,” you mutter, rubbing your temple. “But still, I don’t need to be losing more credits.”

Crosshair simply shrugs, clearly unconcerned. “Credits won’t matter much if you’re burnt out.”

You huff, feeling the exhaustion catch up to you. “Burnt out is putting it lightly. It’s been one thing after another all day. Parts shortages, broken motivators, customers demanding miracles. I’m running myself crazy, and no one seems to care that I can’t fix what I don’t have.” Your voice wavers slightly as the frustration spills over. “I’m one person, Crosshair. I can’t keep this up.”

He listens quietly, his sharp gaze softening as he takes in the stress etched on your face. Without a word, he steps over to the door and flips the neon “OPEN” sign to “CLOSED.”

When he turns back to you, he’s closer now, his tone gentler. “What can I do?”

You look up at him, feeling a lump in your throat at the kindness in his voice. Before you can answer, he pulls you into his arms, wrapping you in a secure embrace. You really needed this.

The warmth of him, combined with the rare tenderness in the way he holds you, makes your chest tighten with relief. You let yourself sink into him, closing your eyes as you take in the steady rhythm of his breathing. For a moment, the clutter of the shop and the never-ending to-do list fades into the background.

“Just this,” you whisper, feeling the weight of the day lift ever so slightly. “This is enough.”

Crosshair’s hand moves in slow circles on your back, offering a silent comfort that says more than words could. His eyes then move toward your cluttered office tucked in the back of the shop. “Why don’t we head to your office? You could use a break.”

You nod, feeling a wave of fatigue wash over you. The office is far from tidy—tools, spare parts, and datapads are scattered all over—but there’s a worn couch in the corner that’s always offered a bit of comfort when you need a breather. Crosshair leads the way, and you follow.

You sigh heavily as you begin pacing in your cluttered office, not being able to help but continue venting your frustrations. “It’s like everything’s falling apart at once. Staff keep canceling their shifts, leaving me to pick up the slack. I’m drowning in work with no one to help, and my orders for parts are delayed again! I can’t catch a break, and I’m starting to think I’ll never dig myself out of this mess.”

Crosshair moves towards the couch, slouching back in his usual relaxed manner and his sharp eyes follow your every move. He doesn’t interrupt, just lets you get it all out. When you finally pause to catch your breath, he speaks, his voice calm and steady. “Come here.”

You look at him, still frazzled, but the calm assurance in his tone pulls you toward him. You sit beside him, and he wastes no time, guiding you against his chest as he wraps his arm around you. You lean your head back against his shoulder, trying to let go of the day’s weight.

Crosshair’s fingers trail lightly along your arm, his presence grounding you. He leans in close, his breath warm against your ear as he murmurs, “Let me distract you.”

You hum softly in response, your lips curling into a faint smile at the suggestion. “You think you can really take my mind off all this?” you ask. Oh you definitely know he can.

Instead of answering, he starts massaging your shoulders, his touch firm and soothing. His skilled hands work out the tension, moving slowly, melting away the stress you’ve been carrying. As his fingers glide over your muscles, your body begins to relax, the tension easing with every pass. His thumbs press into the knots with just the right amount of pressure, and you let out a quiet, contented sigh.

“See?” he murmurs against your neck, “You’re already feeling better.”

His hands continue their path down your back, trailing lower before slipping back up along your sides. His touch is tender, coaxing you into a calm state that contrasts with his usual intensity. Crosshair is rarely gentle, but right now, it’s exactly what you need.

The atmosphere shifts, the tension turning into something else entirely. He pauses, and you feel his lips brush the shell of your ear as he whispers, “Is this how you wanted to be distracted?”

The teasing lilt in his voice makes you bite your lip, your pulse quickening. “Maybe… but I think you know what I really need,” you reply, your voice breathy as your desire begins to build.

Crosshair chuckles, clearly pleased with your response. His hands drift lower, sliding over your hips and down your thighs before slipping back up. You feel his fingers hook into the waistband of your pants, tugging them down just enough to grant him access. Your breath hitches as his hand dips beneath the fabric of your dampened panties, his fingers brushing against your already slick folds.

“Is this what you had in mind?” he asks, his voice a low rumble against your ear as he begins to tease you, his touch feather-light and maddeningly slow.

A quiet whimper escapes you as his fingers trace gentle circles over your clit, his touch skilled and precise. “Crosshair…” you breathe, a plea hidden in your tone.

He smirks against your neck, enjoying the way you’re beginning to unravel in his arms. “I thought you needed a distraction,” he murmurs, sliding a finger inside you, teasingly slow. He works you with agonising precision, each movement calculated to draw out your need.

You arch against him, gasping softly as his fingers press deeper, his thumb maintaining a steady rhythm against your clit. “This what you wanted?” he taunts, slowly adding a finger inside you, curling them just right and hitting that perfect spot.

Your body answers for you, a shuddering moan escaping your lips as you grip his arm, your hips moving in time with his touch. The stress, the tension, everything melts away under his skilled hands, leaving only the building pleasure that threatens to tip you over the edge.

Crosshair’s free hand wraps around your waist, holding you steady as he continues to work you with an almost unbearable precision. “Let it go,” he murmurs against your neck, his voice velvet and commanding all at once.

And you do, falling apart in his arms. The pleasure crashes over you in waves as his fingers carry you through your release. He doesn’t stop until you’re trembling, spent and breathless against him.

For a moment, the world narrows down to just the sound of your breathing and the warmth of his arms around you. Eventually, Crosshair withdraws his hand, holding you close as you come down from the high, pressing a tender kiss to your temple.

“Feeling better?” he asks, his voice smug but laced with genuine concern.

You manage a tired, satisfied smile, still basking in the afterglow. “A little, yeah,” you whisper, sinking deeper into his embrace.

“Only a little?” He asks with a raised brow. He shifts positions, taking your waist and gently lifting and then laying you flat across the couch, crawling over the top of you. “That’s not good enough, is it?” His breath is warm against your skin, his eyes darting from your eyes to your lips.

You find yourself grinning, completely obsessed with your boyfriend. “I suppose it isn’t,” you gasp the second the words leave your lips, his mouth on yours with a tender, slow and sensual kiss.

“Let’s fix that,” Crosshair’s lips press a final kiss to your neck before he slides lower, his gaze never leaving yours as he settles between your legs. You’re already breathless, anticipation tingling through your veins. His movements are deliberate but unhurried, as if savoring the effect he has on you.

He hooks a finger around the side of your panties, pulling them aside with a casual ease that sends a shiver up your spine. His eyes darken as he takes in the sight of you, his usual sharp demeanor softened by the affection in his gaze.

“Relax,” he murmurs, his voice a low rasp as he leans in closer. The word is both a command and a promise. Then, without breaking eye contact, he dips his head, his lips brushing your inner thigh before his mouth finds exactly where you need him.

His touch is slow, precise, completely different from his usual rough and demanding approach. The contrast sends waves of pleasure through you, and you can’t help but melt into the couch, your body responding eagerly to his attention. He takes his time, his tongue moving in smooth, deliberate strokes that drive you wild while keeping you tethered.

You gasp softly, arching into his touch, your fingers tangling in his hair as he continues to work you with a patience that’s almost agonising. “So, beautiful.” He moans into your clit.

He seems completely focused on drawing out every bit of tension, coaxing your pleasure higher and higher with each careful movement. Every kiss, every flick of his tongue is calculated, designed to make you feel like you’re the center of his world.

Unable to resist the pull, you reach for the hem of your top and tug it off, tossing it aside. Crosshair doesn’t miss a beat—his hands are quick to slide up your torso, fingers grazing your sensitive skin as he cups your breasts. His thumbs brush over your nipples, sending electric sparks of pleasure through you as his mouth continues its unhurried rhythm below.

You moan his name, your voice laced with both need and admiration. He hums against you in response, the vibration adding another layer of sensation that has you clutching the couch cushions, completely lost in the pleasure he’s giving you.

After what feels like an eternity of bliss, he finally shifts, moving back up your body with slow, languid kisses, each one lingering as if he’s savoring your taste. He presses his lips to yours, letting you taste yourself on his tongue before he whispers against your mouth, “I told you, I’m not done yet.”

Your breath hitches as he pulls back just enough to reach down and free himself. He takes his time, positioning himself between your legs, his hands sliding up your thighs to hold you steady as he aligns himself with you. But before he moves, he locks eyes with you, his gaze filled with an intensity that makes your heart race.

“I’m going to take all that tension away,” he promises, his voice rough with desire, but there’s a softness there too—a genuine care that makes you feel cherished, not just desired. “Just let me take care of you.”

As he slowly enters you, every inch deliberate and controlled, you feel the world narrow down to just this moment—the warmth of his body, the steady rhythm of his breathing, and the way he fills you completely. His movements are slow but powerful, every thrust purposeful, designed to make you feel every bit of him. It’s intimate, soothing, and completely overwhelming in the best way.

He keeps whispering soft praises, his voice a rough murmur in your ear. “That’s it… just like that… you’re doing so good for me.” His hands roam your body, caressing your skin as if he’s grounding you in the here and now, making sure you stay connected and completely focused on him.

His pace is steady, as if he has all the time in the galaxy to show you exactly how much he cares. The dirty talk flows naturally, his words laced with affection. “You’re perfect like this… so beautiful when you let go.”

The way he moves, the way he speaks—it’s all meant to draw you further into this shared moment, making you forget about the stress and exhaustion from earlier. The tension in your muscles, the weight on your mind, all dissolve under the weight of his attention.

As the pleasure builds, you can feel yourself falling apart in the best way, and he’s right there with you, guiding you through it with whispered reassurances and gentle touches. When you finally reach your peak, he’s watching you with a look that’s both possessive and full of awe, like he’s proud of how you’ve given yourself over to him completely.

���C—Crosshair…mmm, I’m goin’ to cum.” You rasp, your back arching into him as stars begin to blur your vision.

He doesn’t stop until you do. Letting you ride out your orgasm on his cock until you’re fully sated. He reaches his own high, panting your name softly before he pulls out and spurts his velvet white seed all over your stomach and breasts.

As your body relaxes and becomes loose in his embrace, he leans over you and places a tender kiss to your lips as he holds you close, letting you bask in the aftermath.

When you finally catch your breath, he gives you that familiar smirk, his voice filled with smug satisfaction. “Now… how’s that for taking the tension away?”

You can’t help but laugh softly, feeling lighter than you have in days. “More than enough,” you whisper, still wrapped in his arms, grateful for the way he always knows exactly how to care for you.

That is the distraction you definitely needed today.

Tags: @littlefeatherr @kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz @jesseeka @theroguesully @ladykatakuri @arctrooper69 @padawancat97 @staycalmandhugaclone @ko-neko-san @echos-girlfriend @fiveshelmet @dangraccoon @plushymiku-blog @pb-jellybeans @nunanuggets @sleepycreativewriter @erellenora @zippingstars87 @ezras-left-thumb @the-rain-on-kamino @lamiliani @imalovernotahater @sithstrings @lulalovez

@tentakelspektakel @tech-aficionado @grizabellasolo @therealnekomari @tech-depression-inventory @brynhildrmimi @greaser-wolf @kaminocasey @marvel-starwars-nerd @ladytano420 @ladyzirkonia @thesith @raevulsix @cw80831 @knightprincess @crosshairlovebot @whore4rex @imperialclaw801 @temple-elder r @mysticalgalaxysalad @yunggoblin @photogirl894

[slut4daviii]

character: t.shigaraki

pt: 01/01

cw: face-fucking, praise, degradation, yandere-themes, vibrational quirk, body worship, dark DARK themes, fingering, marathon cumshots, sexual torture, strong submissive/dom themes, sir/daddy kink, hate-fucking

summary: Shigaraki kills [names] gf then kidnaps him, wanting a relationship but gets something much more…pleasurable.

a/n: this shii is straight ass. i jus finally got over my writers block😻. i swear to you guys, the next smut i write will be 100x better. trust me pls.

title: [name]’s BITCH

wc: 1200-1700

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it was dark.

utter obscurity.

hushed voices whisked around you, echoing into the silent background that was yourself.

you tried to move— tried to undo the bindings around your wrist; they only tightened, burning your skin in an agony you wouldn’t wish on anyone.

you let loose a hiss, somehow putting the whispers to rest. you could feel eyes dart to your body, feel their sting against your revealed skin.

you turned your head away, cursing lightly. ‘where the fuck am I?’ you weren’t asking anyone in particular, just trying to calm your racing nerves.

“finally awake, hm?”

you listened intently, perking your ears to hear better. the voice sound so familiar, as if… you’d known him for years.

“not a talker, huh?”

you continued to listen; trying to make out whom you were speaking with.

“are you mad at me, [name]?”

you gritted your teeth at the question, hissing again at the increased pressure on your wrist.

“oh, please don’t be mad at me [name]! I swear I don’t mean to hurt you! I just couldn’t stand to watch her take you away from me any longer.”

you reeled back, eyes darting aimlessly around the darkness still plaguing your vision.

“I had to do it [name]! if I didn’t, she would’ve took you away from me and became your wife! then you wouldn’t realize how much you need me and not her!”

the words weren’t making sense, ramblings from a person you knew but couldn’t see. through his manic dialogue, you’d figured out one thing— he was the one who killed your girlfriend.

“Tomura Shigaraki.”

his mumbling ceased at the sound of your voice. replacing itself with a suppressed moan. “ye—yes sir?”

the words came out jumbled, unformed and quick. breathy and quiet. they made way to your ear, quelling the anger inside of you.

“you killed [gf/name]?” your tone was heavy— deep and rough, sending pleasure running down Shigaraki’s spine.

“she was taking you away from me—! I had to do something to get your attention, please don’t be mad at me!”

you stayed quiet, closing your eyes to slow your breathing.

“s—sir? are you— you mad at me?”

the word ‘sir,’ he kept using it. despite him being in control of the situation. he kept referring to you as the… dominant one; making it clear that he wanted something from you, something that seeing your girlfriend have, made him go crazy with jealousy.

“c’mere.”

Shigaraki moaned softly, his body moving without instruction. he stood over you, awaiting your next command.

“take off this mask and the ropes around my arms”

he hesitated, shaking with anticipation; “b—but sir, you’ll try to le—leave me!” he began begging you, “anything else! please! I’ll do anything for you!”

“anything?”

“yes, yes please! anything!”

“take. off. the mask. and these ropes.”

Shigaraki let out a gasp, sharply inhaling before removing the burlap sack that was attached to your shoulders.

your vision was glared, blurry and unfocused behind the florescent lights overhead. you stared up at Shigaraki, waiting for your vision to clear. when it did, Shigaraki shimmered— his eyes were lined with unspilled tears, his body shivered with emotion, and he looked… ravishing.

“now the ropes.”

tears flooded his face, and an expression of pure despair overtook took him; shoving his pride to unconscious depths.

he did as you said, pulling the ropes from your skin before standing back; waiting for you to leave.

you looked at him, watching at tears ran downwards, falling to his chest. you smirked at this— reaching for his hips and pulling him unto your lap, simultaneously activating your quirk (vibration).

he moaned breathlessly, back arching to a near perfect crescent. “why’re you crying? I haven’t even put it in yet.

before he could answer, you slid your left hand down his back— slipping your fingers into his pants and pass his already prepared hole.

“you’ve already prepared?” you began vibrating your fingers, repeatedly smashing into his prostate.

“GHAK!! [n—name]! yo—you’re nhgk! so fuhgking deeep!”

“oh? do you not like that?” you began thrusting— adding a third in the process. Shigaraki screamed into your neck, cumming instantly.

“ju—just cuhm, came! s—st—stop! too much!”

you tilted your head to the side, smiling up at the fucked out male. “I thought you wanted this? you killed my girlfriend to take her spot right? well now you have it, all to yourself babyboy.”

Shigaraki’s eyes rolled back, his head following suite. you smiled at him, placing your hand on his back and leaning forward to bite his adams’ apple.

his body convulsed, cumming inside his pants once more. “damn, again? usually [gf/name] can last longer, you know? actually make me nut first.”

you withdrew your fingers from him, pushing him onto the floor. he heaved— gasping for air. his body still shook from his previous three orgasms, twitches of pleasure running circles across his nerves.

you laughed, leaning down to grab him by his throat. he went almost completely limp, only smiling as you brought his tear stained face closer to yours.

“do you want daddy’s cum? want me to fuck your face until you pass out?”

Shigaraki eagerly nodded, hands coming up to grasp and grip at your clothed cock. “wan—wanna make s—sir p—proud.”

you felt your cock twitch at his nature— slutty and submissive, a complete 180 of his public figure: cold, heartless, and brutal. you kissed him, passionately swapping your tongue into his mouth.

“open your mouth.”

he obeyed, sticking his tongue out in the process. you grinned and spit into his mouth, “don’t swallow it.” your fingers gripped his neck, digging into the skin, “understand?”

he convulsed, on the verge of another orgasm.

“fucking slut.” your tone was dipped in laughter, mocking his lustrous appearance. you let go of his neck and moved to your own pants— undoing the jaw strings of your sweatpants and pulling out your cock.

Shigaraki looked on with awe, admiring every vein and bulge that lined your beautiful cock. you jerked yourself once or twice, feeling pleasure instantly fill your mind. you looked at Shigaraki through lidded eyes, smirking inward. “you ever taken a dick this big?”

he looked like a bitch in heat: rubbing his thighs together, panting, drool rolling down his chin, eyes glossy and tear-stained.

you clicked your tongue, motioning him closer. he obliged, moving so that your balls were touching his lips.

you lifted his chin, holding your cock at the base. “is it pretty?” he nodded impatiently, sticking his tongue out to lick your tip. “aht aht.” your slapped him with your shaft. one time on the left side of his face, then once on the right. “answer my question first.”

Shigaraki pouted, trying to connect your cock with his tongue. you rolled your eyes and pulled away, slapping your cock on his tongue instead. he moaned endlessly, trying to fit your tip between his lips. “plu—please [name]! fuck me! pound me until I can’t take it! I’m your slut! I’m your slut! pleasee!”

his desperation was evident, making it difficult to keep your composure. yet, you persisted. “how much do you want it?”

Shigaraki groaned, back arching painfully. you tsk’d and grabbed a handful of his hair, shoving your cock into his throat. he choked, spit running down your balls and up your pubes. you pulled him away, giving him a second to breathe before your shoved him back down, going even further— making him take you to your base.

“how much do you want my seed?” you pulled him off and waited for a response.

through spit and drool, he held up his hands, “I’d kill my own family for it! I’d—I’d—I’d leave all for one and the league of villains just for a taste of you! [name], I’d kill myself for your amazing— he began kissing up and down your shaft— beautiful, hard, thick, glorious— he shoved his face into your balls, sucking the skin skillfully— ghod sihzed purfecet dhick!!”

you took pride in what you could do with your cock, and Shigaraki’s begging only intensified your ego.

you pulled his hair, lifting him to your tip. he used his tongue to align it with his mouth, sinking to the base immediately. you sighed blissfully, letting your head fall back, indulging in all the thoughts of what you would do to ‘the king of villains’

you looked down at him, watching as his slid up and down your length, his tongue lapping over even inch of skin and his cheeks hallow enough to pull your soul out.

“what’s your name, Tomura?”

he slowed, coming to your tip with an echoing pop. spit and precum fell from his mouth in an adulterous fashion, a line of spit still connecting him to your tip.

“[name]’s bitch.”

[suguae]

"you wish you never ever met her at all..."

G.Satoru x f!reader|

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

That smirk that plastered your perfect little face. How Satoru would love to fuck it right off your face. He hated you. Satoru loved the attention he would get from the uni campus, but you took it right from him ever since you came.

Now you are crashing his party, which you weren't invited to. Walking in with that little black dress that perfectly hugged your curves. Oh, how he loved it. And so did many others as most eyes were on you. Starting small conversations with everyone you walk past.

What he hated the most was that he didn’t even hate you.

The very first day when you arrived Satoru tried shooting his shot. Immediately, you rejected him. Which lowered his ego way more than he anticipated. Seeing you talk to many other men who weren't even half as good looking as Satoru.

"The hell are you doing here?" His brows furrow as you finally walk up to him. He wasn't stupid though. He knew you'd come.

"Was I not invited?" You pout as you trace your finger along his chest onto his biceps. 'Fuck.' He thought to himself.

"You knew damn well you weren't invited." He shoves your hand that was wrapped around his bicep. Though he loved the thought of your little hands wrapping around him as he fucked you relentlessly.

You looked around acting confused, "But everyone is here, why not me?"

Before he could even bite back, you walked off. 

He’s been eager to see you all night but he was unable to find you. That is till he catches you leading some underclassmen into the bathroom of his house. He felt heart rate increasing, pushing past people while he fumes with anger.

He forces the door open to see you sitting on the sink as the random boy leaned up all in your neck. How your lips were plump, hair all messy and the skanky dress revealing your lace black thong. “What the fuck are you doing in here.” 

The underclassman swiftly turns around, seeing Satoru furious.“Hey man I’m sorry…she came at me-” 

“Get the fuck out.” Satoru says staring deeply into your soul as all you could do was just smirk at him. While the underclassman runs out the bathroom, Satoru slams the door closed.

“So this is what you do? Fuck around with me?” Satoru grabs your face bringing it closer to his. “Wanna act so fucking hard to get with me? Then fuck around with these little boys?”

You squirm trying to get out of his grasp, “They wouldn’t even know what to do with you.” 

“And you do?” You attempt to say as Satoru’s grip around your face tightens. It started to hurt, feeling his fingers dig through your cheek. 

“I can fuck you till you can’t even form a proper sentence.” He grits his teeth, rapidly letting go of your face. 

His lips crashing onto yours, your lips tasting like the strawberry glossed you always use. You nibble his bottom lip as the kissing gets slopier. Your hands slid down his abdomen, removing his shirt that defined every muscle he had. But looking at his bare skin was much better. 

“God you're so fucking hot.” Seeing the way his lips plumped up and turned red, his hair messed up from removing his shirt. 

“Save it for later…” he carries you off the sink, pushing your head down as a sign to get on your knees, “I’m not sucking your dick.” You bark at him but all he did was smirk. 

“It’s not really an option.” 

The pornographic noises of you sucking his shaft as the music from the party plays in the background. Satoru whispering small ‘fuck’ ‘shit’ ‘good girl’ as he has one handful of hair in one hand while the other holds up his phone. Making sure to get every detail. Your mascara running down, saliva running down from your mouth onto your tits. 

“Keep going..almost..there princess.” Satoru sucks in a sharp breath; feeling your cold little hands fondling his balls. His free hand forces your throat to take his dick deeper; repeatedly hitting the back of your throat. 

“mmm’look at you..gagging on this dick.” He points the camera closer to your face, hungrily fucking your mouth feeling himself reaching his max. He takes his dick out and gives it a few strokes before it paints your face. The frosted liquid drips from your eyebrow onto your eye and some into your mouth.  

“Show them my cum all over your face…” he pants while moving the camera all around your face, you open your mouth and stick out your tongue following with a high pitched ‘ahh’. 

“Should’ve gotten some on those pretty tits of yours” putting the phone down as you heavily breathe for air. Satoru helps you up by your arms and turns you around to look at yourself in the mirror. “Do those little fuckers make your pretty mascara run like that?” you nod, boosting his ego even more. 

He bends down examining your tiny wet cunt, giving soft kitty licks. Your body squirming; feeling his soft tongue sucking the juices from your pussy. The pornographic noises are now coming from him as you're begging for him to give you more. “Mm..More Satoru.” you can feel his smirk form on your pussy. His hand now flicking your clit while his tongue explores your warm cunt. You can feel your body quivering under his touch. 

“Toru~ m’gonna cum…” 

His fingers now thrusting inside you coming in contact with the rubbery gushy spot that made you feel so good.Your legs crossing as he keeps abusing the same spot in your pussy while every now and then he pinches your clit. “Cum on my fingers f’me princess.” 

You loudly moan as you feel your climax reach, Cumming all over Satoru’s fingers. “Good girl, do they make you cum just by fingering you?” He whispered as he shoved his fingers inside your mouth. You nod again, and of course Satoru smirks. 

“Have you ever done anal?” He nibbles your ear while your body was already so fragile.Bent over the sink as you slightly shiver. He takes a picture of your cunt while he waits for your answer. “Answer me.” 

“No.” you breathlessly say, pushing the strands of hair on your face behind your ears. “Do you want it? My dick up your tiny asshole?” He kneads your boobs while peppering your neck with little kisses. 

“Yes, daddy.” He could feel blood rush to his shaft, he wasn’t really expecting you to agree with his idea. Nor did he expect you to call him daddy. “Look at you~” He praises you while sending small slaps to your ass cheeks.

He has you bent over the bathroom sink again, this time he gathers a bunch of spit from his mouth and spit on your asshole. Slapping his tip on your ass before positioning himself. “It’s gonna hurt a little.” He warns you, delicately placing soft sloppy kisses on your back. 

‘mkay...hurry’ you whined. 

And he did, slowly pushing his cock into your tight asshole. Moaning out your name as your tight ass suffocated his dick. ‘Hurts toru~’ You sob. His pace increases as you cry out. ‘shhh i know…’ he watched your reflection in the mirror. Your eyes rolling to the back of your head as the sobbing turns into lewd moans. ‘Fuck this ass feels sooo good.’ he grunts. 

‘Mhm..yeah..’ you moan as you try to reach for his hand. Grabbing his hand and guiding it down to your clit. He chuckled breathlessly, he had already fucked you dumb. Not being able to use your words. Only hearing the high pitched moans coming out of your sweet mouth. 

Satoru rubs your clit as he thrust deeper and deeper into your ass. He can feel himself getting closer and closer to his climax. And he knew you were too, the moaning getting louder and your body shaking as he increased his speed.

Before he knew it, your asshole filled with his cum. How sexy it looked oozing out of your pretty little ass he couldn't help but snap another picture. One with his dick inside your as and one without. 

His hand still rubbing your clit as your moaning took over, your own liquid running down your legs now, ‘Fuck toru~” 

Your body was limp and your eyes could not stay open, “Do those little boys fuck you like that? Hmm?” He cleans off all the cum and helps you redress yourself. 

“Oh shut up.” You say adjusting one strap to your dress as Satoru was redressing himself now. You whimper as you feel a slap on your right ass cheek.

“Answer me..” he kisses your lips and wipes the mascara from under your eyes as much as possible. 

“No they don’t.” You smiled. 

“atta girl..that smile suits you more.” He opens the bathroom as you wrap your arm around his. 

The embarrassment consumes you as you see many people giggling at you two leaving the bathroom together; looking like you guys just had the time of your lives.

I mean you guys did.

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

✨️Bodhi durran ✨️ that's it.

BUT ALSO

Imagine him being the most amazing boyfriend. I don't know if you have seen lockwood and co on Netflix but that scene where lockwood dresses Lucy's wounds and is looking dead ass deep in her soul smiling, my god bodhi material.

To get to my point if you could write a one shot of bodhi finding out you're injured and going ballistic to anyone that let her out of their sight and got hurt and then finding you trying to wrap your wounds and instantly going all soft and helping I would be forever in your debt

Ps. If you haven't watched lockwod and co it's absolutely worth it.

I haven't watched the show so if this isn't exactly how you pictured this, I apologize✨🤍

Worries

"Where is she?", Bodhi yanked onto one of the recruits, who was in the same formation as you, shirt up. The poor lad looked like he was about to shit himself at best as he stumbled over words. The thing was... Bodhi was fun and games until he wasn't. And that wasn't part come a lot sooner than expected. Considering that the past weeks of him being a section leader had been rather calm. But that sorry fuck just had to show off. Had to break formation. Had to try to prove his piss poor ego and get you hurt.

"You're speechless all of a sudden?", Bodhi shook the guy in his grip, "Answer the goddamn question before you end up like a roasted chicken on the solstice table". You could hear a pin dropping in the background that's how silent the squad had gotten. "I think I saw her entering the building", some other recruit cut in. Bodhi narrowed his eyes, "You think or you saw?", shoving the quivering male he stepped aside sizing everyone up.

"You weak shits better listen and better listen well", he practically growled through gritted teeth. His first instinct was to run after you. He saw the blood gushing from your hand after the coalition. But he also knew his title. Causing a bigger scene than necessary would only turn heads your way. And neither of you needed that. Neither of you wanted to become a target leading to one another. "If any of you will ever do anything similar to what Marco did today", Bodhi grunted. Gods, he felt like Xaden. "I will skin you myself and believe me your dragons will smoke you alive. Dismissed", he practically roared as the recruits hurried away. Bodhi ran a slightly shaky hand through his hair.

"She is up in your room", the voice made Bodhi jolt slightly. Garrick was leaning against one of the pillars. "I passed her, she's fine, man", Garrick continued to speak since Bodhi just stood there, "You did well here too. More and more like our beloved Xaden every day". He knew it was a dig. The two cousins had been compared ever since their interactions were brought to the daylight. "Why don't you go fuck yourself", Bodhi grunted as he walked past his friend. "Gets boring after a while", Garrick chirped in return. Bodhi simply snarled but that of course earned a satisfied chuckle from Garrick.

"Show it to me", the sudden bag of the door practically hitting the wall and the raised voice made you drop the blood-soaked rag. You knew Bodhi was gonna find you eventually. Your dragon was practically counting the minutes for you ever since you had flown back first and dismounted. "Bodhi, it's okay", you tried to keep your voice calm. The wound wasn't all that bad it was the angle and the damaged tissue of the skin that caused it to bleed so much. "Don't you it's okay, me", he grunted, "Show me", his voice was lethal low. He never used that tone with you. It was his section leader's voice. The voice he gave a report in. But it never was showcased around the people he trusted and cared for.

"There's nothing to look at it's...", "I didn't ask, I gave you an order", he cut in, grabbing your upper arm gently so he could look at the damage himself. Bodhi's eyebrows knitted together for a moment, his jaw flexed. "Sit", he muttered motioning towards the bed. "Bodhi", you breathed out. "Baby, I swear to everything holy to me", he exhaled a shaky breath, "you either sit or I am carrying to the healer's wing and will put you on bed rest for a week". You huffed at his threat but you knew that he wasn't bluffing so you followed his orders.

Bodhi was so gentle as he carefully wiped away some of the blood before pressing a clean bandage on your cut, securing it in place. Make sure it's tight for a couple of hours before the bleeding slows down. He would redo it in a couple of hours. Wash it off with a salve he would go ask for. Then another bandage. Then... "Bodhi, I can hear you making plans in your head", you muttered. It was cute watching him fuss at times. It was his way of showing love but you also knew that his head was a wild space and it only took one bad thought to have it all spiraling out of control. "Does it hurt a lot? Do you need something for the pain?", he asked, his concerned eyes searching yours. "Start by giving me a hug and then sit down with me", you said softly, "I promise, I'm fine". You reached out for him, taking his hand into yours, squeezing it.

"I just hate seeing you hurt", Bodhi breathed out, his shoulders drooping. "The feeling is mutual but there are times we can't do anything about it", you reached to run your fingers through his messy curls. That now was completely out of control since he no doubt had been pulling at them. "Do we have a murder scene in the backyard?", you nudged your boyfriend's shoulder, making him snort. "Not yet but we might...", Bodhi exhaled, turning to face you.

"You promise you're okay?", you met his worried gaze but this time instead of answering him you just leaned in and kissed him. Slowly and tenderly. Letting him feel your love. "Good enough proof?", you asked when you two finally broke apart. "Not sure... maybe a couple more kisses", Bodhi thoughtfully nodded his head. You giggled slightly before cupping his face once more.

[insomniactic-daydream]

Magma- Bakugo x Reader

Bakugo x Support Course Shoto's Twin Sister Reader (Pt.2)

<- (Previous Pt.1)

Bakugo x Support Course Shoto's Twin Sister Reader

Summary: After taking on the responsibility of fixing Bakugo gauntlets, Y/n Todoroki now has to deal with Bakugo nosy ass questions and remarks.

For Background Info: This is before any major events like the usj or sports festival. I don't think anybody know about Shoto's fire quirk til then. Correct me if I'm wrong but idk

Also for story purposes Y/n has black hair and as well as the infamous blue todoroki eyes.

"So your quirk is Nitroglycerin? Are you constantly sweating, or can you control the output? " Y/n questions Bakugo as they are seated away from their classmates at lunch. Bakugo agitated from so many questions. Why couldn't you just fix his shit.

"Tch. Yes, and I can control it, you idiot. But sometimes, the stupid weather makes it harder to produce sweat." He says, grumbling eating his food.

Y/n nods as she writes down a few words in her notebook.

"Do you know what kind of metal was used to make your gauntlets?" Y/n asks.

"HAH? HOW THE HELL WOULD I KNOW!? You're the damn epxert you tell me!" Bakugo yells but is lost through the volume of the cafeteria. Gauntlets are now thrown out to you on the table.

"Jeez, relax. You'd think you would be more cooperative if you wanted them done quickly." Y/n sighs as she examines the shatter gauntlets.

"I'm tired of your damn questions. Maybe you should've gotten your brother's quirk and become a hero. That way, you'd talk less and actually do more!" Bakugo yell. His words were almost comical to you. Assuming you didn't have an impressive quick cause you're a support student.

Y/n not looking away from gauntlets. "You're totally right, but then I'd still have to deal with you constant yelling. At least I don't have to deal with you longer than I have to." She says as she grabs her notebook again.

" WHY YOU LITTLE-"

"It's the metal." Y/n cuts him off nonchalantly. As if she's dealt with his yelps for a millennia. Surprisingly, stopping Bakugo. After all, he's a man of knowledge. The more he knows about his gauntlets, the less he has to deal with coming to you to fix them.

"Continue Nerd." He says with gritted teeth

"The metal they used, although used for most fire type and explosive quirks, isn't compatible with your quirk chemicals. That's why they broke the second you used too much of your sweat." She says taking a bite of her food out of accomplishment.

"So what then huh?! How are you going to fix it."

"Well, obviously need new material which is good considering this metal is known to be heavier than most. Not that you'd noticed cause you're a 'so strong' hero student." Y/n says sarcastically. Bakugo glares at her, but before he can chew her out she speaks again.

"I can look into a different material to make entirely new gauntlets, but that's going to take a while to make. The best I can do for you right now is fix these for training, but you can't blast another nuclear bomb at someone again." She finishes as she fiddles with her pencil

"That shit sound it's going to take ages!?" He says angrily out of the thought of not receiving new gear for the next few months at least.

"Well, luckily, a lava quirk and ice quirk do pretty well with speeding the progress of mending metal then, huh?" Y/n says with a smirk.

"Relax. If I'm getting a grade for this, then I'll make sure you're first priority." Y/n says with a wave of a hand before taking another spoonful of food.

"You have a fucking lava quirk?" Bakugo asks. Although he isn't much as a nerd as his childhood rival he can't help but be curious.

"Yup. It was my grandmother's quirk before the quirk de-evolved into flames." Y/n says

"What a waste. You can easily be better than your brother's ice quirk." Bakugo states almost if he's complimenting you. That sure is a first, but again, Bakugo can't ignore potential people who can be better heroes than him.

"I'm flattered but I don't really care for heroics. I help the world by helping you all. It's more humble that most of the show boat heroes today." She grumbles out.

"So you think you're dad is some show boat?" Bakugo pushes almost trying to gain information (more like drama) on the number 2 hero. Y/n, catching his trick, glares at him.

Bakugo catches a glimpse of red streaks of lava, appearing in your hair. He smirks as he realizes he has striked a nerve.

"I never said that." She says annoyedly. As if she was going to open up about her family dynamic to him.

"Easy there, magma, or your hair is gonna blow a gasket." He says with his signature smirk. His red eyes meeting Y/n piercing blue glare.

His word hit Y/n as fast as her hair turns back. "Shut up," Y/n mutters. She then touches her hair out of habit

This surprisingly lets out a chuckle from the blonde. "Tch. At least I'm not the one who is a walking volcano. Do you always have to cool that shit down?" He asks, earning an eye roll from Y/n.

"Not that's it's any of your business, but yes." She mumbles.

"Hah. I bet you struggle using product on that rat's nest you call hair." Bakugo jokingly lies.

He thinks your hair is fine. Flawless even. Not one out of place hair. But he won't admit that to you. If anything, he's curious to see how long it would take him to see you're hair completely turned into lava. Red suited you.

However, you didn't take that remark lightly and threw a piece of his broken gauntlets at him. Causing him to snap back to reality and hold his head in pain (and also anger obvi)

"As if I'd listen to you, pomeranian!"

(Next Part 3) ->

What can I say, I love a good harmless enemies to lovers trope. 🤷‍♀️

[nevertheless-moving]

MDZS AU #7: Jiang Wanyin’s Dog

Jiang Cheng & Wei Ying time travel back to the Wen Indoctrination camp.

They didn't ask for this. Wei Wuxian's Happy Ending is gone. Jin Ling's Whole Life is Gone. But no time to unpack any of that, they fight the Xuanwu of Slaughter the day after tomorrow. They have to get on the same page. Their family is alive again. They have to get this right.

Last time around, Wei Ying created distance between his actions and Jiang Cheng’s orders.

(Partially in order to excuse his shidi from blame when he did something grotesque or anti-establishment or unsuccessful. Partially to obscure which orders he physically couldn't follow. Partially because his mental health was truly, exceptionally bad — he distanced himself from lots of things!)

It could be argued that this strategy didn’t pan out super well, in the end. Not a very fun conclusion.

And the reasons for that distance don't exist anymore considering 1) Jiang Sect is un-massacred and can properly throw their weight around to shield their terrifying unorthodox disciple from backlash when he does terrifying unorthodox things. 2) Wei Ying doesn’t have a golden core shaped secret to hide from Jiang Cheng. Wei Ying has less secrets from Jiang Cheng then he’s ever had.

(Mental health could be better, but it also could be a lot worse)

So they come up with a different plan, whispering furiously under Wen guard, bedrolls pressed close together, cheeks still holding a little babyfat.

Wei Wuxian will be the perfect servant in public, obeying his gongzi’s orders without question. In exchange Jiang Wanyin won’t order him to do anything he wouldn’t want to do anyway. Wei Wuxian will still get to do all his stupid heroics — he just has to wait for the go ahead, to provide the undeniable impression of perfect unity. Jiang Wanyin will give that go ahead, even if it has to be through gritted teeth.

Bear with me now: this leads to a gradual yungmeng bros reconciliation. Basically the emotional equivalent of tensing a muscles as hard as you can on purpose so that when you relax it, the background strain also releases a bit.

To start — Wei Wuxian is the new core melting hand, except even scarier.

Did you hear he summoned an ARMY of the damned to protect Lotus Pier?? And that the only one who he listens to is Jiang Wanyin? Apparently Jiang Wanyin confronted Wen Chao over using human sacrifices, and when Wen Chao threatened him, Jiang Wanyin gave the word and Wei Wuxian killed a hundred Wen AND the Xuanwu of Slaughter!!! Did you hear he ripped Wen Zhuliu heart out of his chest?? What a terrfying head disciple! How long has Jiang sect been hiding this??

The two really, really have to work together, very consistently, without hiccups, and as much practice as they have fighting this specific war together, they also have hella baggage and different priorities and Wei Ying is NOT keeping up the Super Serious Servant act in private.

(they can’t speed run, alright? Wen Chao's early death and the Jiang Sect surviving pretty fundamentally alter following events, rendering specific future knowledge less useful. Not to mention, it takes time for Wei Wuxian to figure out how to balance his golden core with massive amounts of resentful energy. He's got qi to deviate, and there's a good few months where they're fairly sure he's driving himself into an even faster grave than his first life. I mean he figures it out, he's a fucking genius. But early on there's a non zero amount of bleeding from the eyes and running into bushes to puke blood while Jiang Cheng pretends that he's only stressed about this for purely pragmatic reasons.)

So daily private meetings to debrief and strategize and yell at each other and maybe horse around a little. It's the only time they get to step back from the terrifying teenage war leaders thing and be a more raw, complex version of themselves. Getting back in sync after everything. Maybe getting in sync for the first time — how much of their childhood were they dancing around issues of worth and place? How many of their worst arguments stemmed from one giant secret?

Jiang Cheng making progress on his Wuxian shaped self-esteem issues largely by faking it-till-he-makes it.

“You think I feel embarrassed to be second best to my own disciple. What, are you fucking stupid?? How do you compare to him, huh? He’s going to ascend to be a death god or some shit like that. It’s a ridiculous comparison — I’d like to see how you would have done, growing up his shidi. Grow up and fuck off.”

Say stuff like that enough times and you might… actually start to believe it. Huh.

Both of them somewhat expecting cocky, mouthy Wei Wuxian to bristle more about the subservience thing, but honestly? It's cool.

For years, supporting Jiang Cheng was the only thing Wei Ying truly wanted. Yes, he wants other things now too, but Wei Ying still wants to follow Jiang Cheng.

Jiang Cheng is good at politics, at leadership. He rebuilt his sect back to greatness from the ground up. Wei Wuxian's 'leading a sect' experience culminated in being feared by the world and slowly starving to death on an all radish diet. (yes, obviously, there were extenuating circumstances, but regardless — I don't think leading anything larger than a night hunt is on Wei Ying's to do list).

Jiang Cheng expecting criticism in private and not getting it. Waiting all day to be torn apart for his fuckups by an unfiltered Wei Wuxian, only to instead be praised for his battlefield calls and handling of difficult negotiations.

He was a sect leader for two decades— his stupid shixiong's approval should not be able to affect him like this.

The thing is, Wei Wuxian's got effective free reign on his areas of interest — protecting people he wants to protect, inventing, and fighting people he wants to fight. Wei Wuxian has bountiful self esteem. It's annoying to not say whatever he wants whenever he wants, to bow that low, to mind his titles, to walk five steps behind, but it doesn't actually make him feel bad.

Once they’re eating A-Li’s soup … and it sinks in that their parents, their sect, their sister is alive… and they're drunk crying together... and they really really really did miss this, having someone who got their jokes, who could distinguish between their mock outrage and real fury…

Reconciliation starts completely in private but frankly enough time of Wei Wuxian Perfect Discipleing in public? Jiang Cheng is like… ok I thought I wanted this... but its actually not my kink. Please push back when the Jin start talking shit. I’m so, so tired. I've been tired longer than you've been alive. I don't want to reserve all my amusement for hidden moments any more.

Almost seamless public facing transition from ‘rabid dog on a short chain’ swinging to ‘my good right hand.’ Wei Wuxian gets to start being a little shit again in public, but he reigns it in quickly at Jiang Cheng's signal, and teasing A-Cheng stays private. Honestly — a boundary that might have helped them a lot in their first life!

As a result of gaslighting people that however they act that day is how they've always acted, most people are left with the general impression of Wei Wuxian as ‘trusted loyal hound,' who also happens to be absolutely fucking terrifying. Which. Isn’t exactly wrong so, fuck it, fine. Wei Ying honestly could not give less fucks about 99.9% of people’s opinions.

...Lan Zhan is living a dark romance novel, but that's a different post.

Part Two My MDZS AU Masterlist

[anxiousthoughts365]

Broken

Trans!Reggie. Mildly NSFW - mostly just suggestive. Minors DNI.

'Fuck,' James hisses, his back hitting the edges of the pantry shelves as Regulus shoves him against them. The shorter boy smirks, but the teasing comment poised on the tip of his tongue dies when James wraps a large fist around his t-shirt and pulls him forward. Regulus staggers, but James catches him with ease, and then they're kissing.

Regulus feels like he'll never get used to this. How could he ever get used to the warmth of James' body pressed against his? How could it ever be normal for his own body to react the way it does whenever he catches a whiff of James' cologne, which somehow seems to be everywhere in the Potter Mansion? How could there ever be a time where James' mouth on his doesn't make his head spin and his insides melt?

He's so caught up in the feel and the smell and the taste of James James James that he doesn't realise what's happening until it's too late. James' hand is snaking down his abdomen over his shirt, heading lower, lower, until it finally comes to rest against the front of Regulus' jeans. James presses. And Regulus freezes.

He's been so careful up until now, so damned careful to avoid this, and in the weeks he's been here this is the one time he's let himself slip for a brief second, has been greedy, wanting to fully experience the feel of James' hands and lips on him without the constant background noise of his fear. And now look. Everything's ruined. He should leave, he needs to pack his things, to get out of -

'Baby?' James is still, too. More still than he's ever been in his life, Regulus thinks. His voice is gentle, achingly so, and oh so lovely as he murmurs, 'Reg, will you look at me?'

Regulus is surprised to realise that his eyes have closed of their own volition, but he can't do it. He can't make his lids lift. Can't see whatever devastating expression might be on James' face right now. So instead, he presses his lips together and shakes his head.

'Alright,' James murmurs, and he still hasn't moved, and Regulus doesn't know what to make of that. Everything shifts when James breathes, 'You know this doesn't matter, right?'

'Of course this fucking matters!' Ah, there it is. There's comfort in anger, in vitriol, and Regulus draws from the seemingly endless well of it inside himself as his eyes snap open and he spits, 'How could it not fucking matter? It means that this - this - whatever this is, it can't go on. I knew it, of course, but I had selfishly hoped for a little more time. Should have known better, really. Well, go on, let's hear it then. It's disgusting, and wrong, and fucked up, and you want me out of your house immediately and -'

James' hand finally leaves his crotch, but only so that the calloused, dark fingers can be pressed against Regulus' mouth, stilling his flow. Regulus blinks, pulled back from the brink of self-loathing by the set of James' jaw, the fire behind his hazel eyes.

'Alright,' the taller boy growls, the word slightly slurred from being forced through gritted teeth. 'Alright, then it matters. It matters, because this is who you are. It matters, because every time I hear how your family treated you because of it, I want to burn things. It matters, because I want to be able to make you feel good, but I need you to know that I have no expectations of you, no judgement for you or your body. It matters, but it changes nothing about how I feel for you.'

Regulus wants to believe him, but he's scared. And maybe James can see the fear, because his face softens. Regulus can see how he makes his jaw relax, how he pushes the tension from his shoulders. He's seen James do this before, when he adjusts his expression or body language almost subconsciously around Sirius, whenever his brother is stressed or frightened.

Regulus should be annoyed that James is treating him like he does Sirius. He should be, but he's not. At this moment, Regulus is grateful. Because with James' careful approach, he's able to drop his own defenses, is able to let logic filter through.

'You ... You don't mind,' he murmurs against James' palm. His reward for allowing James to soothe him is that the hand is removed from his mouth and moves instead to cup his cheek, James' thumb running over his cheekbone in a way that sends sparks shooting down his spine.

'No, Baby, I don't mind. You've already told me about this. I have never minded.' James frowns suddenly as a thought seemingly occurs to him, and he mutters, 'Although I'm annoyed that I forgot myself and didn't ask you before I touched you.'

'I'm not annoyed at you,' Regulus says quietly, making an effort to meet James' gaze so that the boy can see the sincerity in his words.

'You're not?' James sounds so unsure that Regulus wants to scoop him up, to reassure him and make everything better, make all of this goes away. So he does the only thing that he can think of in that moment. He steps closer, leaning in deliberately as he winds his arms around James' neck.

'I want you to touch me,' he breathes, and his heart rate speeds up as he watches James' pupils dilate.

'Yeah?' James chokes out, his cheeks flushing lightly as he stares down at Regulus. He nods, his lower lip caught between his teeth, and in no time James' hand finds its way between Regulus' legs once more, and he presses with the heel of his palm. The pressure and the pleasure make Regulus' head fall back, a soft sigh slipping through his lips, and James' resulting groan is almost sinful. But then he's pulling away, his fingers wrapping around Regulus' wrist as he moves towards the door.

'Wait, what -'

'I'm not doing this here,' James pants, and his eyes are slightly wild when he turns back to Regulus. He presses a brief but passionate kiss to the shorter boy's lips, before reaching for the handle on the pantry door. Regulus has to fight to stop his knees from buckling when James adds, 'I want you spread out on my bed while I take you apart.'

[acknowledge-reigns]

Wolf's Den | Zilla Fatu x Black Fem!Reader x Jacob Fatu SMUT (18+)

Requested by: @wrestlingbaby

Description: Jacob helps Zilla punish reader. Smut based on that one episode of Total Divas where Jim and Trin argue about her losing her ring, but with Zilla/Jacob x Reader.

Warnings: Arguing/light angst, Dom/sub dynamic, Punishment, degradation, BDSM club, Mentions of Roman + Jimmy/Naomi + Jey/Rhea + Tiffy/Nia + Drew/Punk + Zaria/Giulia/Stephanie in kink context (don't judge me!) flogger, impact play, multiple partners, double penetration, vaginal sex, oral (male receiving), swallowing, Daddy Dom and Primal Dom, Honorifics, rough sex, dirty talk, hair pulling, face fucking, Zilla cums in her, praise, petnames, general filth with a fluffy ending.

My masterlist can be found here

Again, MDNI!!! THIS IS AN 18+ FAN FICTION. As always my stories are based in kayfabe not based upon any real people.

Zilla sat in the driver's seat of the car, his jaw clenched in frustration. He couldn't believe that after all the time and effort he had put into planning their wedding, picking out the perfect ring etc, his new wife had lost her wedding ring.

"I told you to wear it all the time," he said through gritted teeth, his grip on the steering wheel tightening. "But you never listen."

"I know, I know," she said, her voice laced with guilt. "I'm sorry, okay? I just... I keep forgetting to put it on."

Zilla let out a scoff. "You keep forgetting? It's not that hard to remember to wear a damn ring, Y/N."

He glances over at her, his eyes narrowing.

"Do you even care about our marriage at all?" he asks, his voice harsh. "Because it seems like you don't care about anything I do for you."

Her eyes widened at his accusation, hurt and anger flashing across her face.

"How dare you say that," she retorted, her own anger rising to match his. "I care about our marriage more than anything. I just... I'm sorry I lost the ring, okay? But it's not like I did it on purpose."

"Only me and you know the story of that ring—that's the sentimental value it has to me." Zilla said

She felt a pang of guilt at his words, realizing the significance of the ring. She knew how much it meant to him, and she hated herself for losing it.

"I know," she said softly, her voice laced with regret. "I'm so sorry, Zilla. I should have taken better care of it."

He was silent for a moment, his grip on the steering wheel still tight. The tension in the car was palpable, the air thick with anger and frustration.

"Sorry don't fix anything," he finally said, his voice cold. "but it's okay. I got something for yo' ass."

She looked at him, a mix of curiosity and apprehension on her face. She wasn't sure what he meant by that, she shouldn't be excited but she really was.

"What do you mean?" she asked, her voice small and submissive.

Zilla drove in silence, the only sound being the hum of the car's engine. After a few minutes, they pulled up in front of a nondescript building.

He got out of the car and walked around to her side, opening the door for her and gesturing for her to get out.

She got out of the car, her heart racing with a mix of anticipation and nervousness. She recognized the building as the Wolf's Den, the kink club that Zilla's cousin Jacob owned. The two of them frequent here often, the whole kinky ass bloodline does really. It's a safe space for wrestlers to get their dungeon fix without worrying about the press picking up on details of their sex lives.

Wolf's Den was known as one of the safest BDSM clubs in the country. People were heavily vetted, background checks were done, there were club rules and safe words and there was always more than one Dungeon Monitor on duty to ensure things stay safe, sane and consensual

After Zilla scanned his membership card for entry, Y/N followed him inside, her eyes darting around the dimly lit interior, taking in the various equipment and furnishings scattered throughout the room as couples spread about made use of them. In passing she saw Jimmy with Naomi on a spanking bench, Rhea with Jey on a leash, Tiffy kneeling at Nia's feet and Drew working Punk over with a flogger while he's tied to the St. Andrew's Cross in the corner of the room.

Zilla led her deeper into the familiar club, The air was thick with the scent of leather and sweat, and the sound of moans and whimpers filled the room.

They finally bumped into Jacob, who was talking to another patron. A newbie, Mistress Zaria and her pets Giulia and Stephanie.

"Aye, uce," Zilla said, nodding at his cousin. "We need a private room."

Jacob looked over at them, a sly smile spreading across his face.

"Of course," he said, his eyes flicking between the two of them. "Follow me, Uce."

He turned and led them through a door at the back of the room, opening it to reveal a hallway that had the four private rooms and led them straight to the open one.

Once they were in the private room, Zilla turned to Jacob.

"Can I ask a favor?" he said, his voice low.

Jacob raised an eyebrow, a hint of curiosity in his expression.

"Sure, what is it?" he asked.

Zilla glanced at his wife, then back at Jacob.

"I need you to help me punish her," he said, nodding in her direction.

Jacob's smirk widened, his eyes roaming over her body.

"With pleasure," he said, his voice dripping with excitement.

"What's your color, babygirl?" Zilla asked y/n in regards to the traffic light safe word system. Green meaning good, Yellow meaning slow down and Red meaning stop.

"Green, Daddy!" Y/N eagerly confirmed.

Zilla stepped aside, giving Jacob full access to her.

"She lost something important," Zilla said, his eyes darkening. "And she needs to be taught a lesson."

Jacob moved closer to her, his gaze hungry as he looked her up and down.

"I can definitely help with that," he said, his voice low and seductive. "She looks like she needs a firm hand."

Jacob reached out and grabbed her chin, tilting her head up to look at him.

"You ready to be punished, sweetheart?" he asked, his thumb brushing over her bottom lip. She huffs but doesn't respond.

"Answer me," he said, his tone demanding.

She bit her lip, her eyes darting between him and Zilla.

"Y-yes," she finally said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Jacob chuckled, clearly pleased with her response.

"Good girl," he purred, his grip on her chin tightening slightly. "You bout to learn your lesson tonight."

"Remember, baby, I'm your Daddy. Jacob is your Alpha. Just like before." Zilla said referring to the last time he and Jacob played with her together. Zilla was newer, less experienced at being a Dom, a brat tamer at that. And Jacob was always happy to lend a helping hand in keeping y/n in line. Roman had also done the job a time or two. The tribal chief was by far the strictest Dom of the bunch. Y/N enjoyed being shared, Zilla enjoyed sharing her but only with his cousins.

She shivered at Zilla's words, memories of their previous encounters with Jacob flooding her mind. She remembered the way he would tease and taunt her, how he would push her limits and make her submit to his every command.

Her heart raced with a mix of excitement and nervousness as she realized that tonight was going to be no different.

Zilla was a caring, yet firm Daddy Dom, always taking care of her and making sure she was comfortable and safe during their scenes and otherwise. He was the one who would comfort her after, praising her and making sure she knew how good she was.

Jacob, on the other hand, was a Primal Dom. He was rougher, more demanding, and didn't hold back when it came to pushing her limits. He liked to see her break, to make her beg and plead for his touch. Still caring and protective though.

Zilla always knew that his wife was in good hands with his cousin, and he trusted Jacob to give her the punishment she deserved.

Jacob circled her slowly, his eyes raking over her body as he took in every curve and dip. He stopped behind her, his hands coming to rest on her hips.

She felt his hands on her hips, his grip firm and possessive. He pulled her back against him, her body flush against his chest.

"Such a naughty girl.. Givin' Uce a hard time." he whispered in her ear, his breath hot against her skin.

She couldn't help but get aroused at the feeling of his body pressed against hers, his voice sending shivers down her spine. He took in the aroma of her cocoa butter lotion.

She knew that she was in for a rough night, but the thought only excited her more.

He chuckled at her reaction, his hands sliding up her sides, tracing the curve of her waist.

"You like this, don't you?" he murmured, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of her neck. "You like being at my mercy."

She tried to suppress a moan, but a small, needy sound escaped her lips anyway.

"Y-yes," she managed to whisper, her body already responding to his touch.

"Aht aht! Yes what?" Zilla corrected her on Jacob's behalf

"Yes, Alpha." She responded to Jacob as Zilla began pulling her clothes off.

"Good girl," Jacob said, a satisfied smirk on his face as she corrected herself.

He watched as Zilla began to undress her, his eyes hungrily taking in every inch of her exposed skin.

Her clothes fell to the floor, leaving her standing naked before them. She couldn't help but feel vulnerable, exposed under their gazes.

Jacob's hands moved back to her hips, his fingers digging into her skin as he pulled her closer to him.

"Get on your knees," Jacob commanded, his voice low and firm. "And suck him off. You need to make it up to him, for being such a forgetful slut."

She obeyed, dropping to her knees in front of Zilla. She looked up at him with wide eyes, tugging down his pants and boxers.

Zilla's hand reached out, his fingers carefully tangling in her hair as he guided her head towards his cock.

"Go on, baby girl," he said, his voice husky with desire. "Take it like a good girl."

She wrapped her lips around him, taking him into her mouth slowly. She swirled her tongue around the head, teasing the sensitive skin.

Zilla let out a low moan, his grip on her hair tightening as he watched her take him deeper.

Jacob stood behind her, his hands resting on her shoulders as he watched the scene unfold.

As she continued to suck on Zilla's cock, Jacob reached for a flogger that was nearby. He trailed the tresses over her back, teasing her skin with the soft touch.

He waited until she was completely distracted before bringing the flogger down on her skin, the impact sending a sharp sting through her body.

She moaned around Zilla's cock, the pain from the flogger mixing with pleasure.

Zilla groaned, his eyes fluttering closed as she took his cock deeper, her tongue working over him.

Jacob continued to alternate between the flogger and his hands, spanking her and caressing her skin. He knew just how to push her limits, how to keep her on edge and wanting more.

Zilla was close to losing control, his breathing growing ragged as he fought to hold back his release.

She could feel Zilla tensing, his cock throbbing in her mouth. She knew he was close, and she redoubled her efforts, sucking and licking with renewed fervor.

Jacob watched her intently, a smirk on his face as he continued to tease her with the flogger.

Zilla couldn't hold back any longer. With a loud moan, he came, spilling himself into her mouth.

She swallowed every drop, her tongue still working over him as he rode out his orgasm.

Zilla let out a shaky breath as he came down from his high, his grip on her hair loosening.

Jacob chuckled, setting the flogger aside for the moment. He knelt down behind her, his chest pressing against her back as he wrapped his arms around her waist.

With a nod from Jacob as if the two were silently communicating, Zilla helped her up and positioned her on her hands and knees.

She was now facing Jacob, who was sitting in front of her, his cock hard and waiting for her. She had no clue at what point he'd shed his clothes.

Behind her, Zilla positioned himself at her entrance, his hands gripping her hips as he slowly pushed into her.

She moaned as Zilla filled her.

Jacob reached out, gently guiding her head down towards his cock.

"Come on, baby. Open that pretty mouth for me," he coaxed.

She parted her lips, taking Jacob's cock into her mouth.

As she started to suck on him, Zilla began to move, his thrusts slow and deep at first.

She moaned around Jacob's cock, the vibrations sending shivers down his spine.

Zilla's grip on her hips tightened as he picked up the pace, his thrusts growing faster and harder.

She struggled to keep her focus on Jacob, her mind fogging with pleasure as Zilla pounded into her from behind.

Jacob's hand tangled in her hair, guiding her movements as he started to thrust into her mouth in time with Zilla's rhythm.

The room was filled with the sounds of skin slapping against skin, moans and grunts, and the wet sounds of her mouth around Jacob's cock and Zilla in her warm wet pussy.

Jacob's head fell back, his eyes closed in pleasure as he used her mouth to chase his own release.

Zilla's thrusts became more erratic, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he neared his second orgasm.

Jacob was close as well, his grip on her hair tightening as he held her head in place, his hips bucking up to meet her mouth.

"Fuck, I'm close," Jacob groaned, his voice strained.

Zilla grunted in response, his thrusts becoming even harder as he chased his own release.

Suddenly, Zilla gave a final, deep thrust, burying himself to the hilt as he came inside her.

Jacob let out a strangled cry as he followed suit, his release spilling into her mouth.

She was a mess of moans and whimpers, her body trembling between the two of them as she felt Zilla's release fill her.

It didn't take long for her own orgasm to hit, her body tensing and clenching around Zilla as she came undone.

Zilla and Jacob both stilled, both of them panting as they came down from their highs.

Zilla gently pulled out of her, leaving her feeling empty and used in the best way possible.

She collapsed onto her elbows, her body spent and exhausted.

Jacob reached out to brush a strand of hair out of her face, his expression tender despite the roughness of their previous actions.

Zilla knelt down beside her, his hands running soothingly over her back.

"You did so well, baby. So good for us," he murmured, his voice soft and affectionate.

She leaned into his touch, her body still trembling from the aftershocks of her orgasm.

Jacob chuckled, his hand moving to caress her cheek.

"You look absolutely wrecked," he said, his tone playful.

She could only manage a weak nod in response, too spent to form coherent words.

Zilla chuckled as well, his hands moving to her hips and gently turning her over so she was lying on her back.

Jacob smiled and stood up, understanding that Zilla wanted a moment alone with her.

"I'll go clean up," he said, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead before pulling his clothes on.

"See you later, Uce." he said to Zilla who gave him a nod.

Once Jacob was gone, Zilla turned his attention back to his wife.

He laid down beside her, pulling her into his arms and holding her close.

"You're amazing, you know that?" he murmured, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on her skin.

She snuggled closer to him, burying her face in his chest.

He held her tightly, his arms wrapped around her as if he never wanted to let go.

"You took us both so well," he whispered, his voice filled with a mixture of pride and affection.

She let out a soft sigh, her body still sensitive and sore from their earlier activities.

Zilla's hands continued to roam over her body, his touch gentle but possessive, as if he was claiming her all over again.

His hands eventually came to rest on her thighs, his thumbs rubbing small circles on her skin.

"You're mine," he murmured, his voice low and possessive. "My beautiful wife."

"I really am sorry about the ring" Y/N reiterated.

"I'ma buy you another one, baby. And a hundred more after that if I got to, as long as you're mine." Zilla responded.

"I love you, Z." She said

He pulled back slightly to look down at her, his eyes filled with affection and adoration.

"I love you too, babygirl," he replied, his voice filled with sincerity. "Forever".

"Forever" Y/N confirmed with a soft content sigh.

[slushiepizza]

Lazy Bones

Relationship : Guy & Guy's Dad, Guy & his parents

Tags : Father-Son Relationship, Dysfunctional Family, Mental Health Issues, Angst, Hurt-no-Comfort, Executive Dysfunction, Guy is more similar to his dad than he thought much to his dismay, and he has to grit his teeth and move on Toxic Family Dynamic

Word Count : 1,772

ao3 notes: something something he's gonna make it through this year if it kills him /j; both guy and his father are hinted to have mental health issues that i didn't specify for fear of ruining the immersion, but i do have a specific condition in mind when i wrote them this way

Guy knew what sort of day it was as soon as he woke up that afternoon.

His small dorm room was a vacuum, where time moved both like molasses and the speed of light. The dollar-store curtains did little to keep the afternoon sun away from the room. The AC slowly hummed. He could hear laughter outside- probably people coming back from class. His bones were stationary, and the defeated sort of embrace of the blanket welcomed him like a home. 

He mentally started counting down from ten and forced himself to move. He slowly made his way to the bathroom in the muted darkness, wincing when he accidentally kicked something plastic and sent it skidding across the floor. He’ll get it later. 

Guy found himself in front of the bathroom mirror and recognized what was in his eyes as something pathetic. The look on his face was familiar, and he’d seen that look a million times before. 

He hated what he saw.

—

Small hands slowly nudged a weary shoulder that early June. Everything was hazy in the heat of summer. A talk show- no, a sports program, was playing in the background from the CRT screen. 

“Dad. Daaad. Play with me,” he whined at the fresh age of five. “I’ll be the fire truck, ‘an you’ll be the train.” 

His Dad, a mountain of a man impossible to climb, laid himself against his chair. In that house, everyone shared everything except for that chair in the corner of the living room. That chair was his, and over the years, it’d soon mold itself into the shape of his body and its fabric would be stained with his beer. 

“Why don’t ‘cha bother your mom, instead, huh?” he grunted, unmoving. 

“She’s at the store,” Guy replied. 

“Go outside, or something. Y’know when I grew up, we used to just go to the woods and just. Played with sticks. You young’uns are soft, always need coddlin’ and buggerin’. Can’t even sit still for a second.” 

He looked up at his father’s stubbled, rugged face. Marred by the heat of the sun. “I can do that?!” 

“Sure, son,” the man looked at him with an almost sad sort of look. His labored arm, wiry and thick from long hours at the auto shop, reached out to muss up his hair.  “Your Pa’s… tired.” 

Guy was hunting for bugs in the backyard when his mother came back home from the store and yelled at her husband for letting him get dirty. And for sitting there all day, never doing anything useful. And that she wished that she never married someone who’d give up so easily as him.

He remembered that his father was tired a lot. 

—

Guy did the least he could do. He brushed his teeth and had a single slice of bread for breakfast. Anything is better than nothing, a dear friend told him. He guessed it was right because, on days when he felt like he wanted to let the mattress mold itself to the shape of his body, the only way he could survive was by keeping the ball rolling. A routine- or some form of it. What he did barely counted as one, but it was better than letting himself fall into the trap of falling back asleep. 

He opened the laptop, checked the calendar, and mentally kicked himself. 

The deadline was today. 

Guy liked to believe that he was a capable, competent person. But as soon as he opened the word document to write the last act of his script- a task that he’d put off from days before- his mind was full of noise. 

He craved mind-numbing comfort, so he sought it. He sunk into his chair and scrolled on his phone. In the back of his mind, he felt angry. 

_

Business was rough for the auto shop, and it later closed when Guy was sixteen. His dad never looked for another job- and he soon took his role as a stay-at-home father. 

The arguments soon died down, maybe because his parents had already worn each other out by that point. They barely saw each other anyway- his mother’s job at the hospital as a residential nurse kept it that way. 

His father was itching for control- and home was the only thing close enough to that. 

He was neurotic about where things were supposed to be. The chairs were supposed to be aligned with the floorboards, and Guy has had to sweep the floors multiple times. If a strand of his hair was found- it’d send his father into ballistics. 

Hair was another issue. 

“Isn’t it time for a haircut?” his dad asked as he vacuumed, without ever meeting Guy in the eyes. 

"I like it this way,” he replied. 

“Makes you look like a chick.” 

—

The videos on his phone flashed colors and various soundbites. It felt incomprehensible to him, and his mind fell into the space between awareness and daydream- a thick fog. 

He didn’t feel like catching the deadline. Maybe he should just give up and not do it. He could lie down and not do anything at all. 

“This is how I stayed productive even on days when I was exhausted and didn’t have any motivation. The Eisenhower matrix can help you manage your time-” the YouTube video droned and Guy felt himself slip away. 

He probably was just lazy.  He needed one day to get himself together and he could train himself to have discipline and not rely on motivation, or start time blocking, or start writing bullet journals and get his life together. 

—

Guy grew to realize that he hated his father. Hated the way he seemed to always park himself in front of the TV and not shower for days. Disgusting and good-for-nothing. The way he would only get up to go around the house and make sure that everything was in pristine condition. Unused, untouched. Guy hadn’t eaten in his dining room for ages. 

His father could’ve tried if he wanted to. He could’ve applied for other jobs, could’ve cared more about him. But he wallowed in the unknown frustrating corners of his mind and let days pass him by.

He could see the weight sagging his mother’s shoulders-the exhaustion in her eyes as she picked him up from school before going to her night shift. 

Guy’s biggest fantasy when he was growing up was for his parents to get a divorce. It never came, and in a sick and twisted way, they did need each other to survive. She needed the illusion of a family, and he needed the money.

“Why can’t you do it for me!” he yelled in a particularly heated fight. 

“I’m doing this for you! What do you even want?! For this family to be torn apart and to become the talk of the town?” 

“I don’t need you to stay together when all you do is yell at each other,” he pleaded. 

“You don’t understand,” she said and ended their discussion there. 

—

Before he knew it, it was dark outside and he hadn’t written a single word for his script. The deadline was in five hours, and he was sure that he’d be dropped from the project if he didn’t manage to make it.  

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. A mix of voices rang in his skull: ‘The deadline is in five hours. You’ve done nothing, stupid.’ And ‘maybe you should eat something. You’re hungry, and you’ve only had bread.’ with ‘you should try starting now. You can still fight for this gig. It’s not over yet.’ 

Guy stood up and approached the pile of laundry on the corner of his bed. He mechanically folded them and arranged them in his drawer of clothes. It gave him the feeling that he had his life together. He hated the fact that he had to do such an ordeal just to do basic tasks. Double the effort for half the result. 

Everything felt like a hill he had to climb. Strategies, timers, to-do lists, tricks. It was frustrating, the fact that he was so damaged that he couldn’t straightforwardly do anything. 

Tears started to cloud his vision and all he could do was blink them away in anger. Anger at himself for being affected by people who do not care for him in the slightest (A lie, he will soon realize. They did care- but it was the only sort of care that they understood.) He hated that he was a carbon copy of his father despite having tried so desperately to be different. 

He studied hard in school, and he worked double, and triple shifts at Max’s to support himself. But he couldn’t escape from what he was. This… sickness, the willingness to give up so easily was passed down from his father like a curse. It was in his blood, written in his bones. At the end of the day, he was still his father’s son. 

—

The thing is, his dad did try. Between the narcissist, and the mid-life crisis-ridden man, there were glimpses of what he was underneath it all. What he could’ve been. 

He remembered when it stormed all morning before he had to turn in a science project for freshman year in high school. He’d woken up late, and by the time he was at the bus stop, lugging poster board and styrofoam diagrams in a wheelbarrow behind him, it’d left. 

His father had run to catch up with him with an umbrella. 

“I’ll walk ‘ya to school. Don’t want ‘em to get wet when you’d barely sleep making them.” 

It’d been embarrassing. For someone his age to be walked to school by his dad. But all he noticed was the fact that his father had leaned the umbrella completely over him and the wheelbarrow. He was drenched, and he’d never been too fond of the cold. 

“I can wear my jacket,” he mumbled. “Just tilt it your way. You’re getting wet.” 

“Doesn’t matter,” his dad replied. “The only thing that matters is for you to get to school okay. Get good grades so you don’t become a loser.”

—

Guy wiped his tears and sat himself back down in front of the laptop. He let the all-encompassing, overwhelming mix of anger and sadness run through him. He wasn’t going to fuck it up. He wouldn’t let anything get in the way of the work that he loved doing. He gritted his teeth and did it even when every part of him protested. 

Despite his father, despite his restless mind. 

Despite it all, he’ll die fighting, bruised.

[gauloiseblue]

Blue Velvet

(König × Reader × Horangi)

War isn't easy to get through, and the importance of keeping the soldiers' morals is as crucial as their ratios. They need distractions as much as they need food, and the higher ups are forced to provide it to them. It should be a bare minimum, since they subjugated them to fight their war. But they're a bunch of pigs, of course they'd rather keep the money to themselves.

They did give them a show—twice a week, but it felt inadequate. They only call a shrieking woman, with equally loud music to entertain them.

It's appalling to him, and he scoffs at the thrumming beat from the tent, where the singer—if you can call her a singer—screams her tune. The soldiers would whistle at her, stretching their hands to touch her, and she'd playfully evade them. It feels animalistic, vulgar, and he scoffs everytime the music starts. He'd walk to the opposite side, while the soldiers flock to the tent.

He sometimes found the Russian agent by the woods, and they'd sit in silence while the rowdy show filled in in the background. Though he prefers to be left alone, it's a better option than the crowded tent.

They talk when it's necessary, but most of the time they keep their thoughts to themselves. Nikto would stare at the woods, or anywhere else, really. It doesn't matter, since his mind isn't here.

He thought it'd stay that way, until Horangi told him to come.

"It's not the loud American slag," He explained to him, "Trust me, you'll like her."

He was vexed when he dragged him along, but it quickly changed once they got into their seats.

It's not as crowded as usual, and he can hear the soldiers murmur behind him. Some of them have a curious tone, but some of them are derisive. He didn't understand the sentiment, until the lights are dimmed.

And there you stand. On the stage, with the floodlight shines on you.

You were cold, aloof. And there's something delicate in the way you stood. Though it's only a brief moment, before the music plays softly.

As if lured by the tune, you step into the light and sing.

She wore blue velvet

Bluer than velvet was the night

Softer than satin was the light

From the stars

The murmurs begin to cease, as you sing the gentle ode.

She wore blue velvet

Bluer than velvet were her eyes

Warmer than May, her tender sighs

Love was ours

He holds his breath, as the flutter of your voice reaches his ear.

Ours, a love I held tightly

Feeling the rapture grow

Like a flame burning brightly

But when she left gone was the glow of

His friend glances at him, and a smirk spreads on his lips. He sees it from the corner of his eye, but he couldn't care less.

Blue velvet

But in my heart there'll always be

Precious and warm a memory through the years

And I still can see blue velvet through my tears

"Told you you'd like her."

He stares at his friend, before he states a warning.

"Don't act like you know me." He hissed.

Horangi lifts his hands lazily, as he returns to watch the stage.

She wore blue velvet

But in my heart there'll always be

Precious and warm a memory through the years

And I still can see blue velvet through my tears

"You know," He started, while his eyes stayed on your figure, "I wouldn't watch her if she's not pretty, but you gotta admit that she's more than just a pretty face." He took a glance at him, "She makes you feel… things, doesn't she?"

"What do you want?"

His voice is enough to convey the message, but his friend doesn't flinch away. He pushes through instead.

"Help me capture the bird, and I'll give you half of it."

The chair screeches when he stands as he glares at him, before he marches out of the room.

His friend's eyes burn holes into his back, and he grits his teeth at the prying gaze. He hates it, he hates that he's seen through him.