#I was like. woah man. slow down

[erlandious]

If I’m ever talking to y’all and I either have a slow/short response or just don’t respond at all, I’d like to say that I am simply Nervous, especially on call. Either that or I didn’t hear you because there was too much noise and/or I zoned out. But most of the time I’m just nervous

[fisherrprince]

Instead of writing a fanfic like a normal person this oneshot turned into two separate, contextless things,

[starry-bi-sky]

I am loudly pushing the batdad agenda i am loudly pushing the— DPxDC Prompt

“Woah. You look like shit."

Granted, that’s probably not the first thing Danny should be saying to the guy that just bit the curb, but in his defense; he’s not running on 100% right now either.

The man -- tall, towering, and broader than Danny is tall -- whips around on his heel, black frayed cape flaring out impressively. Danny would've whistled in appreciation, but he takes the time instead to wipe the back of his hand across his mouth, smearing the blood running from his nose across his cheek.

"Sorry." He blinks widely, not even flinching as the man with the horns zeroes in on him. "That was rude of me. I have a really bad brain-to-mouth filter; Sam says its what always gets me into trouble."

And she's not wrong either, per say. His smart mouth is what landed him in this situation -- with blood blossom extract running through his veins and cannibalizing the ectoplasm in his bloodstream. Thanks Vlad.

The man grunts at him; a short, curt "hm" that shouldn't make Danny smile, but he does because he's somewhat delirious and probably concussed. The man keeps some kind of distance, sinking towards the shadows of Gotham's alleyway like he dares to melt right into it.

If it's supposed to scare Danny, it doesn't work. Danny's never been afraid of the dark; he's always been able to hide himself in it. He blinks slowly at the mass of shadows.

"You look hurt." The shadows says, blurring together around the edges. Danny squints, and licks his lips to get the blood dripping down his chin off. Ugh, he hates the taste of blood.

"I am." He says, "My godfather poisoned me. M'dying." The agony of the blood blossom eating him from the inside out looped back around to numbing a while ago, so all he feels is half-awake and dazed.

"Hey," Danny stumbles forward towards the man, a bloodied hand reaching out to him. "You-- you're a hero, right? You're not attacking me; which is more than I can say for most costumed people I've met." Maybe it's a poor bar to judge someone at, but he's already established that Danny's not in his right mind.

The man makes no change in expression, but Danny realizes blearily that it's hard to tell with the shadows on his face. He stays still long enough for Danny to latch onto the cape -- stretchy, but almost soft under his fingers.

He looks up blearily into the whites of the man's eyes. "Can you help me? I don't-- I don't wanna die." Again. He doesn't wanna die again. He blinks slow and lizard-like. "I mean- I'll probably get to see mom and dad again, but I told them I'd at least try and make it to adulthood."

There's a clatter down the street, and Danny's ghost sense chills up his spine and leaves a bitter, ashy taste in his mouth. He immediately knows who it belongs to even before the deceptively gentle; "Daniel?" echoes down the way.

"Daniel? Quit your games, badger, Gotham is dangerous for children."

Danny's mouth pulls back, and blood spills against his tongue. "Please." He rasps, and grabs onto the shadow's cape with both hands. "Please. He's going to kill me. Please--"

"Daniel? Is that you?"

His lips part, dragging in air to plead with the darkness again. He doesn't need to, the whites of his eyes narrow, and the cape whirls around him before Danny can blink. Soon swaddled in shadows, the Night lifts him up, and steals him away.

[yasministration]

heavy dresses, tight corsets - harry potter

concussions and interruptions au summary: in the guise of having a sleepover with daphne, you go over to harry's house, where you can finally take this stupid dress off. wc: 1.5k+ featuring the marauders

Standing at the front of the Potters’s doorstep, you felt more nervous than anything else, the ache in your feet almost forgotten. Sure, you had been invited by Harry to come after the Parkinsons’s ball, but the night had barely gone well, and you were still dressed in your ridiculously fancy gown.

Harry jumped up from the couch when a knock was heard from the front door. You hadn’t given him an estimate for when the ball would end, but he knew it would be late, so he sat with his parents and uncles, awaiting your arrival. James laughed as Harry raced to the door, slipping on the rug, but he slammed a hand on the wall to stabilise himself before swinging the door open. His jaw dropped.

“You look… You’re, woah.” You laughed at Harry’s words, a tired look in your eyes. “This dress is so stupidly heavy.” You complained, and Harry smiled softly, moving out of the door way to let you in.

From the living room, Lily Potter patted her husband’s thigh, and she said. “I’m going to go say hi.” “I’ll come too!” Lily walked towards the entrance of her house just in time to see you leaning on her son as you bent downwards, taking your tall heels off. You sighed in relief as you freed your feet from the pain, straightening up to be hit with a wave of nerves as you saw Harry's mum. “Hi, Mrs. Potter.” You greeted, dropping your heels by your feet to return the hug she was already pulling you into. “You look beautiful.” She muttered, holding you at arms length. But her compliment was immediately flipped around by her husband, who welcomed you with “You look so uncomfortable.”

“Trust me, Mr. Potter, I am.”

Harry slithered his fingers around your wrist, tugging you closer to him before letting go and wrapping an arm around your shoulders. You smiled at him. “Oh dear, which family was it this time?” Your head shot up at the sound of an unfamiliar voice, but you immediately recognised the man as Sirius Black. “The Parkinsons.” You replied with a playful roll of your eyes.

Sirius made a noise of disgust, adding. “It’s always them who have the most elaborate balls too.” “I know!” You exclaimed, glad to have someone who understood as you leant down to grab your shoes “And for what!? It’s not like anyone cares anyway! Everyone is bored out of their minds and keeping themselves busy trying not to show it!” You felt your cheeks heat up at a foreign laugh, and spotted Remus Lupin leaning against the wall. “Professor Lupin.” You greeted shyly, hoping he hadn’t told Harry’s parents of the unfortunate situation he caught you in. He echoed your name.

“Um, I’m sure my lovely girlfriend would appreciate it if you didn’t corner her like a pack of wolves, so we’re going to go upstairs, yeah?” Harry turned towards you at the end of his little speech, ensuring you actually felt that way, and you nodded eagerly. He snaked his fingers into yours, tugging you towards the stairs, but you warned him to slow down as they got closer. Harry pouted when you let go of his hand, but at the sight of you lifting your dress up to walk up the stairs like a princess, his eyes literally formed into hearts, staring at you with adoration. “Are we going or..?” Harry nodded, turning to rush up at stairs. He opened the door to his room before returning to you, letting you at the top of the staircase to guide you deeper into his childhood home. “Welcome to my room.” Harry said, gesturing around the room. He walked around you, closing the door softly and leaning on it, staring at you for a long moment.

“You can give me the tour and everything, but my first priority is getting out of this dress. So, can you untie me?” You spun around, the skirt of your dress rippling around you. Harry stared at your back with his jaw dropped as you moved your hair out of the way. “You’re asking me to… undress you?” You shot Harry an unimpressed yet amused look over your shoulder. “Oh please Potter, it’s nothing you haven’t done before.” He shut up at your retort, fingers finding the bottom of the lace up of the corset. “All of it?"

“Well, enough to get me out.” Harry hesitated, unsure where to start. You sighed, “It’s fine, I’m sure I can do it myself.” Harry shook his head, forgetting that you couldn’t see his response, and undid the bow at your lower back. He removed the lace string from the first hole. You stiffened. “Harry…” Your boyfriend hummed. “Are you sure you’re doing it right?” “Is there a way to get it wrong?” His nervous chuckle had you moving out of his grasp and you repeated “I’m sure I can do it myself, it’s fine.”

“I’ll ask my mum to come help-“ “No, don’t do that, Harry!” Two knocks on his door sounded. You both froze. Harry shuffled towards the door, opening it softly. His shoulders slumped in relief. “Oh good! Mum could you help?” “Harry!” Lily laughed at your scolding of her son, entering the room. She was carrying a tray with an array of snacks and drinks. “Oh, Mrs. Potter you didn’t have to!”

“That’s nonsense, what can I help with?” “Um can you undo me, please? Harry was doing it wrong.” Your voice was shy, quiet. Lily smiled, gesturing for you to turn around. You did, and she looked at the back of your lace up corset and laughed. “Harry, were you seriously about to untie her entire corset?” “She asked me to untie it!” Lily shook her head with an amused scoff, and began loosening your corset up. You held the dress up from the front, eyes beginning to tear up at the intimate moment.

You’d never had one of those with your mother.

Lily patted your shoulder, mumbling “You’re good.” and you sniffled, thanking her softly. Both Harry and his mother were immediately alert at the sound of crying in your voice, and Lily asked “Darling, are you alright?” You quickly wiped the tears from your face, spinning around and nodding with a smile. “Yeah, I’m fine! Perfect.” Lily tilted her head to the side before walking towards you and gently wrapping her arms around you. She brought her voice down to a whisper so Harry couldn’t hear, and said “I’m here if you need anything. Ever.”

And with that, she was strolling out of the room, leaving you teary eyed in your boyfriend’s room. Harry furrowed his eyebrows, watching as you sat down on his bed. He moved as much of your dress near you so he could sit as close to you as possible, one hand caressing your back softly. “My love, are you okay?” You nodded, looking at Harry and leaning in to press a kiss to his cheek. “I wasn’t kidding when I said getting out of this is my priority.” Harry chuckled, though he still sounded worried as he gathered the pyjamas you had owled him in a parcel last night. “Okay, how do we get you out?”

You laughed at Harry’s cluelessness, standing up and shuffling the dress down your body until it went past your hips and fell to the floor, pooling around you. “Oh.” Harry sat with wide eyes at the sight of you in nothing but a thong, and he internally begged for you to turn around so he could get a view at your bare chest. He shook himself out of his daze, frantically grabbing the top of your pyjama set. He stood up behind you, whispering a “Don’t get scared.” Before he pulled the fabric over your head. You slid your arms in the proper holes, turning around to snatch the cotton trousers off his bed. You slapped Harry’s arm, his eyes still glued to your ass.

“Sorry, sorry!”

“Sure you are.”

But Harry knew your words didn’t hold any actual annoyance in them because you were quickly placing your hands on his chest and pushing him down on his bed. He bounced softly on the mattress and you giggled, climbing on his lap and leaning down to press a kiss to his lips. Harry was immediately cupping the back of your head, keeping you close to him as you swiped your tongue on his bottom lip.

“Missed you so much.” Harry panted as he opened his mouth, his words muffling as you glided your tongue against his. He gripped your hip with his free hand and you rolled your hips onto his with a sigh. Harry moaned, bucking his hips up into you. “I missed you too.” You finally replied, sitting up straight. Harry propped himself up on his elbows, wondering why you had pulled away so suddenly.

He whined when you stood up again, and you sent him an apologetic smile.

“Sorry sweetheart, my second priority is taking my makeup off.”

Your boyfriend followed you up, placing his hands on your hips and pressing himself into your backside. “And third?” He whispered, prompting you to say him. You grinned, looking at him over your shoulder and muttering “Hair.”

taglist: @ravisinghs-wife, @starry-remus, @pain-in-the-ashe, @hiireadstuff, @treefairy-28, @superlegend216, @kitkatkl, @juliet-017, @fl0weryannie, @tiaajosephin, @hisparentsgallerryy, @liviessun, @rory-cakes, @heebiemcjeebies, @fl0weryannie, @muffinemmaa, @anne061989, @regsg18, @graciereads, @adharaoaklyn, @hawaii2320, @c0ldstvff, @bigbodycity

[mooningningg]

 notes, i was actually chuckling at myself. ty anon for requesting

★ Roommate!Sukuna when someone hits on you with him.

You were just comparing the backs of two cereal boxes.

Really. That’s all.

You and Sukuna had run out of coffee creamer and got distracted in the cereal aisle. You were bickering about marshmallow-to-grain ratios like civilized adults when Sukuna walked off to grab eggs and left you behind.

Now here you were, alone, mid-comparison, when a guy sidled up beside you.

Not aggressively. Just… with a little too much confidence for someone in a Walmart.

He gestured to the cereal in your hand and said, “You know that one has more sugar than the one you’re holding?”

You blinked.

“…Yeah, that’s why I picked it.”

He laughed. The kind of laugh that people do when they’re trying too hard. “You’re funny. That your favorite?”

You didn’t answer right away. There wasn’t anything threatening about him — just annoying. Vaguely frat-boy energy in board shorts and a fake chain. He leaned in a little.

“You know,” he said, flashing a grin, “I was actually gonna say something earlier when you passed the produce section. Couldn’t help noticing your smile.”

Jesus Christ.

You gave a polite, tight smile. “Thanks.”

“Got a name, pretty girl?”

You were about to lie and say “Tax Fraud” when—

“The fuck’s goin’ on here?”

A voice cut in. Low, scratchy, and pissed.

You didn’t have to turn around to know who it was.

Sukuna was back.

And he was standing behind you with a carton of eggs in one hand, a frozen bag of fries in the other, and a look on his face like he was ready to use either as a weapon.

The guy glanced up, eyebrows raised. “Uh—hey, man. Just talkin’ to her—”

“Yeah?” Sukuna cocked his head. “Looks more like you’re talkin’ at her.”

You tried to step in, raise a hand. “It’s fine—”

Sukuna didn’t look at you. Didn’t blink. He took a step forward, close enough that the guy had to instinctively lean back.

“She look interested to you?”

“Woah, okay—” the guy laughed awkwardly, taking a visible step away. “Didn’t mean to disrespect—”

Sukuna gave a humorless snort. “Disrespect?” he echoed, loud enough to make an old lady from aisle six poke her head around. His tone was slow, like he was tasting the word and hating every syllable. “Nah. See, disrespect is when you bump someone in line and don’t say ‘scuse me.’”

He stepped closer. The eggs in his hand were tilted sideways now, as if he had no problem letting them crash to the floor if things went south. “What you just did?” His grin spread, but it didn’t touch his eyes. “That’s some ‘I wanna die in aisle seven’ type shit.”

The guy laughed nervously, eyes darting toward you. “I didn’t know she was with anyone—”

“You don’t need to know,” Sukuna said, voice low, like a fuse being lit. “You see someone standing alone, you keep walkin’. You don’t roll up with your Dollar Tree smile and ask her what cereal she likes.”

You winced. Ouch.

“Bro, it’s not that serious—”

“Don’t ‘bro’ me,” Sukuna snapped, finally breaking eye contact with the man long enough to glance at you. His voice dipped. “You good?”

You blinked. “I—yeah. I was just looking at cereal—”

His eyes flicked back to the guy. “Yeah? She was looking at cereal. Not you.”

The dude threw his hands up. “Alright man, alright. My bad. Enjoy your, uh… whatever this is.”

He turned, practically sprinted out of the aisle, knocking into a soup display on his way out. A can rolled across the tile floor like a dramatic punctuation mark.

Silence.

You blinked at Sukuna. He still looked vaguely pissed. He glanced down at the eggs in his hand like he was debating whether or not to chase the guy and throw them.

Instead, he tossed them into the basket and finally turned toward you.

“You’re unbelievable,” you muttered.

He raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“You can’t threaten people in public just because they talk to me.”

“He flirted with you.”

“I can handle myself.”

“You shouldn’t have to.”

The words came out too fast. Too serious. Even he looked surprised he said them.

You paused, one eyebrow raised. “We’re just roommates, you know.”

He exhaled slowly, dragging a hand down his face. “Yeah, yeah. You tell everyone that.”

“I am everyone.”

He scoffed, reaching for a box of cereal and dropping it in your cart without looking. “Shut up.”

You glanced at the box.

It was the one you wanted.

You smiled to yourself and didn’t say a word.

But damn, you were never grocery shopping without him again.

Taglist, @humeysaga.

[isasweetie]

hii my love! can you please write something about assistant!reader x rafe sneaking off to the kitchen pantry (like the one in the show) and making out? maybe it starts with rafe calming her down because she forgot to do something for sofia and rafe reassures her—and somehow they start making out. i probably wrote alot, but thank you anyway, and even if you don't write, i love your work so much!

love u angel bby <3

rafe is such a kind man, the least he could do to calm you down was give you a kiss ♡ (sirens!au)

you were a mess of a girl when you stormed into the kitchen, the staff instantly leaving the room to give you space. mascara running, nose sniffling and twitching like a bunny, eyes wide and glossy like a fawn… all because you had forgotten to pick up sofia’s favourite napkins for the upcoming gala.

rafe cameron hears your gentle cries from upstairs, instantly stomping down to see what the commotion is about. his muscles are a bit tense, the billionaire on guard in case there’s any danger.

it’s a bit of a shock when his eyes land on you, holding onto the counter with trembling hands. why on earth was his wife’s assistant crying all alone in the kitchen?

his shoulders soften underneath his polo shirt as he hurriedly walks towards you, going to hold your shaky hands and pry you away from the marble counter. “hey— hey, what’s goin’ on, sweetie?” he asks, eyebrows furrowing in confusion and concern.

“sofia— she wanted polar bear white napkins for the gala and— and i forgot so now we’re stuck with the stupid cerulean blue napkins from last year!” you cry gently, squeezing his big hands back, too emotional to care that it’s rafe who’s comforting you. “she’s going to be so upset.. oh rafe, she’s already frustrated at me for not reminding the gardeners to water her tulips, she’s going to fire me!”

“woah, woah..” he sighs, trying to calm you down. “shh, don’t think she’s gonna give a shit, alright? i really don’t,” he assures gently.

it doesn’t seem to help, because you cry again and your eyes squeeze shut. “no, she’s going to fire me! cerulean blue is so last year, it’ll be so embarassing when her guests come and—“

he shuts your cries and complaints up with a gentle kiss to the lips, as if testing the waters. it seems to work, because when he pulls away, you’re quiet and confused. so he leans in again, giving you another, longer kiss. “better?” he asks gently after, minty breath kissing your face.

oh, how you love his kisses. you shake your head no, sniffling, possibly just wanting more. rafe is a gentleman and he senses your neediness, so he kisses you again. you’re brave enough to kiss back this time. he lifts you on the counter as you practically sit in your own tears, his lips not leaving yours.

one of your manicured hands goes to his bicep, the other on his scalp and scratchy buzz cut. his tongue pertrudes your lips, going to invade your mouth. every movement he does is slow, gentle … he knows you’re fragile right now, so he’s going to treat you as such.

when you pull away for breath and your wet lashes flutter as your eyes open, you ask, “didn’t you say we weren’t supposed to do this anymore?”

he displays a little half-smile, finding your question sweet. “yes, but when i see one of my workers upset, i’ll do whatever it takes to fix it. i’m a generous man, aren’t i?”

“yes sir,” you answer his question softly, confirming that he is generous. “but i’m not technically your worker, m’sofia’s,”

“y’get paid by me, though,” he explains simply, and you nod gently at his logic.

so when he leans in again, you don’t stop him. he’s just doing his job, after all.

[porcalinecunt]

Question, what if there was Von & Wrio riding fem reader? Sandwichinh her as they use both her holes roughly?👀

𝐃𝐎𝐔𝐁𝐋𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐅𝐅!

🪽 ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ if you were squished n stuffed by giant canine men ~ <3

·˚ ◌༘͙[featuring] ! ˊ 𝐕𝐎𝐍 𝐋𝐘𝐂𝐀𝐎𝐍 & 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐘 𝐗 𝐅𝐄𝐌! 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

cw — mean dom! wriothesley. soft dom! von lycaon. double penetration. size kink. breeding. anal sex. mentions of knot. implied polyamory(?)

◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡ author’s note! : this was messily written since my last draft wasn’t saved ;-; so apologies if this ended up half baked nonie [frustrated noises]

you couldn’t get a breath in, not with two horny mutts pumping themselves in and out of your poor holes.

it was supposed to be plain, simple sex just to relieve von lycaon’s stresses. after all, being the strong-head of victoria’s housekeeping always takes a toll on him. whether taking on ethereals or watching over the young, impressionable maids. settling him down and doing all the work in pleasing him.

of course, your other lover couldn’t help himself. rudely interrupting the both of you while lycaon was balls deep inside you, undressing with a raging hard on. “what? can’t let you two have all the fun..” he chuckled.

now here you are, pressed between the two canines as they ravaged your pussy and ass at an animalistic pace.

“ah! s-slow down! plea..ahh..!”

you mewled, pleading falling on deaf ears as wriothesley gripped the back of your knees with lycaon squeezing the life out of your marked up thighs. your poor cunt, exposed and stuffed full by the duke’s ridiculous girth while the furry thiren anal fucked you.

“don’t tap out now, princess. not when you’ve been so so good to us..”

wriothesley groaned with a lustful grin, a fang could be seen peering through his lips. his pace was unforgiving, stretching your pussy out to it’s limit. you weakly lift your head up, watching the lewd scene play out in front of you. a creamy white ring already sat at the base, indicating your impending orgasm.

a large, furry paw grabbed the back of your head and forced it to face the man below you. the one stuffing your pretty little ass full of wolf cock and knot. “enjoying yourself? master y/n..?”

you nodded in response, lycaon leaning forward to capture your lips—or rather mouth—into a disgustingly passionate kiss. your eyes white from how far they rolled to the back of their heads as the thiren stuffed your mouth with his tongue.

“‘course she enjoys it..a good little lady like her would adore a dickin’ from us.” the duke chuckled, caging you between his scarred arms.

the sound of skin slapping against skin and your lover’s groans overwhelmed your head. stars filled your vision as an incoming orgasm took feeling from your legs. lycaon kept bullying his length into your tight ass, his knot pressing and growing against your sweetly sensative spot while he swallowed your mewls and begs to be bred full. your little brain was nothing but mush, only with the desire for your boys to stuff you full of cum until you couldn’t take it anymore.

“c-cumm..gonna cum!”

you sobbed, digging your nails into wriothesley’s biceps which forced a hiss through his sharp teeth. the more their cocks twitches, the harder you clenched around them, almost milking the two men till they’re fucking dry.

“woah woah..don’t clench like that baby or we’ll—fuck!” wriothesley abruptly groaned in your ear as ropes of white shot into your cunt, the sudden rush of warmth pushed out sounds that could’ve been straight out of porn. only more so when lycaon felt his own orgasm wash over him.

one final, and harsher, thrust snapped his cock deep in your ass. the sensation doubled the pleasure you were already drunk off of, it’s a shock you didn’t pass out.

“a-apologies master..i should’ve said something before—“

you pressed an intimate kiss onto the wolf’s nose, instantly shutting up whatever formalities he had. “no need, darling..” you spoke in a weak tone. the thiren wrapped his large, furry arms around your waist while the duke buried his face in your bruised up neck.

yet, the fun had only begun, as they haven’t even pulled out of your leaking holes. can’t waste a drop now, can you?

© porcalinecunt 🪽ᯓᡣ𐭩ྀི do not steal, translate, or use my work and claim as your own.

[satrs]

Wet Wars!

SYNOPSIS; Hope you like losing your mind– twice.

FEAT; caleb x Satoru Gojo x fem!reader

TAGS;MDNI! threesome. oral fixation. bestfriend!caleb and bestfriend!satoru. competitive. panty ripping. desperate and püssydrunk guys. overstim. cunnilingus. dirtytalk. petnames. cocky gojo. possessiveeee caleb. squirting. cum eating. cl!t smacking. püssy smacking. dacryphilia. spit and drool. messy. slighttt dumbification from satoru once. praise. begging. size k!nk. tummy buldge. satoru jerks himself off and is pathetic. 3.3k.

A/N; sighhhh ANOTHA ONE!!!!! they r both my fav bois so I rlly had my fun on this one hihi^^ THIS is my dream blunt rotation man.

Who can make you cum first?

It starts like a game— at least, that's what Satoru calls it.

You're sprawled out on silky sheets, thighs parted indulgently over a stack of plush pillows.

Caleb kneels at your left, grey sweats tight around his hard-on, eyes glowing with quiet hunger while Gojo lounges on the other side, shirt off, grey sweats hanging low, all-too-familiar cocky smirk plastered on his moist lips.

Seeing your two closest, bestest of friends like this is— well, not exactly something you're used to.

Yeah, sure you three goof around all the time, and sure Satoru sometimes comes up with dirty jokes about you that Caleb makes quick work to and sure there was one time they both taught you how to properly kiss guys— but this?

This is new.

“Aaaand? Watcha' sayin? Yer' in?” the white-haired drawls, that wicked glint lighting up his cerulean eyes as they slide from Caleb to your exposed, dripping center. He swears your panties are practically pasted to your folds. “Winner takes it all.”

Caleb just smirks, trailing the back of his fingers along your inner thigh. “Hell yeah. Buuuut,” his voice dips, husky and pointed, “you sure you can handle her? Bet you don’t even know where the clit is.”

Satoru whistles, clearly entertained. “Woah. Cocky-much.” Then he flashes you that wicked grin, muscles twitching from the possesive grip on your thigh. “Yer' lettin' him talk ta me like that?”

You roll your eyes at their banter, hips twitching into the empty space between them. “You guyssss, seriously, quit it and do.... something already.”

“Aight, aight,” Caleb murmurs, voice thick with amusement as he hooks his fingers into your panties, sliding them to the side. He’s just about to slip a finger through your slick folds when Satoru's hand swats! his away.

“I know where the damn clit is, starboy,” Satoru's grin is all teeth. “Riiiiiiiight—”

He presses down, finger circling with maddening precision until it hits your bundle of nerves dead-on. The pressure is just enough to make your thighs jerk, threatening to clamp shut around their heads. But both of them shoot out an arm without missing a beat, pushing your legs apart and holding them there with synchronized ease.

“—here,” he finishes, eyes glittering with smug satisfaction.

“That’s a no-brainer.”

Caleb snorts, unfazed. “Well duhhh. She’s soaked, Satoru. You could find it in your sleep.”

Satoru chuckles low in his throat, still teasing slow circles with his soft pad. “Then maybe ya oughta put in some effort before I win. Or not. Couldn't care less.”

Caleb's eyes narrow slightly, then he leans in without warning, tongue flicking out to replace the others hand, making your entire body jolt. “You talk too damn much." he murmurs, lips brushing your clit just barely, ripping your flimsy panties almost completely off with one strong pull, earning a shocked yelp from you. “Earn your keep.”

Then he licks, a slow, devastating stripe from your entrance to your clit, savoring it like he’s been starving.

And suddenly, they're both on you at once, two hot tongues, slick mouths feisting upon you as if as if you were the last thing on earth they'd ever get to taste.

Satoru dips low again, mouth locking onto your clit with practiced ease, his tongue rolling and circling like he’s studied every nerve under a microscope. He hums against you, the vibration sending a ripple up your spine before he ends the barely holding on annoying strap of your cloth off you completely to further suckle at your buttony clit.

Caleb's grip tightens on your thigh as he kisses the soft skin, soft brown hair tickling your thigh as he moves up closer, his mouth dragging open kisses along the crease where your leg meets your needy core.

“Sweet fuck,” he mutters, dragging his tongue flat against your entrance now, slow and savoring, wanting to memorize your taste.

Satoru glances up, eyes gleaming. “Yer' takin’ your time down there, or just scared I’m gonna make her cum first?”

Caleb answers by sucking hard, just below your clit— just close enough for your hand to fly and latch onto the brown bush of hair while Satoru increases the pressure right on your swollen clit, tongue flicking in sharp, teasing pulses.

"Nghhhh! Y-yes r-right there!," you cry out, hips bucking, but their hands hold you down, keep you spread, keep you right there with nowhere to squirm or run to.

Caleb groans in response and fuck— he could cum by just listening to your sweet cries, hips deseraptly humbing deep into the matress.

You're sweet—so damn sweet. He can't breathe, can't be, except in the act of devouring you whole like you're the only thing he's ever wanted. He'd always imagined tasting you but this? This is heaven for him. And there's no way in hell anyone can take this honeyed cunny from him.

Only over his dead body.

And Satoru? God, he's an idiot.

An idiot for not dragging you into this sooner. A goddamn fool for letting this sappy bastard Caleb share in your sacred juices. And the biggest fool of all for grinding into the sheets like some needy, feral mutt, each spurting of your essence landing right on his tastebuds and he's sure he's addicted by now.

Because you are addictive.

You can't think.

And from the way your vision's already going white at the edges, legs desperatly shaking as the overwhelming sounds of slurp slurp slurp numbs your senses, and you're not sure who’s winning.

But you're definitely losing— in the best way possible.

You feel Caleb's tongue sliding lower ashe parts your folds gently, sucking one side into his mouth before dragging his tongue up the other. He's so gentle, so reverent, but there’s an edge to him now, a heat in his breath that promises he’s not going to let the cocky white-haired win.

Satoru's not having it.

He quickly flattens his tongue against your clit and starts flicking the bud so fast and devastating, his hands gripping your thighs to hold you still.

“Gonna make her cum first,” he says like it’s fact, “watch.”

Caleb only narrows his eyes, clicking his tongue in irritation before diving back between your legs, sliding his tongue deep into you. “Not if I get her gushing first.”

His words come out muffled, barely audible, vibrations of his voice adding onto his nasty tongue gliding through your hole, hitting your sweetspot with one swift roll of his tongue.

Bingo.

God, you would snap your thighs together if you could, but their strong hands make it impossible for you to escape from this overwhelming pleasure.

You're at your wits end at this point, tummy sucking in as Satoru pulls back just enough to smirk, placing a teasing smack! to your clit.

“Oh? Playing dirty already?”

Caleb doesn't care to answer. His tongue moves in slow, deep strokes, licking into your pussy while his lips seal around your entrance. You can hear it— the wet, obscene sounds of his mouth fucking you, tongue curling, nose brushing your clit.

The white-haired would love nothing more than to yank that jackass away from you and taste you himself, show you just how deep his tongue can bury itself inside you, how much better he can please you— but he holds back.

He wanted this game, after all.

“Fine. I can play dirty too.”

He reaches up, lifting your hips slightly before he sucks your clit into his mouth— hard. His tongue flicks fast, merciless almost, desperate to force your attention onto him.

You choke on a sob as your hips buck up into his mouth, hand tangling in the snowy hair while one of your legs hooks over Caleb's shoulder, heel digging into his back.

They're working together now, without even meaning to.

You're thrashing, hands now clutching the sheets, legs twitching as heat coils tight in your belly. You're—

“Close. She's close,” Caleb mumbles against you, thumb circling your inner thigh, "C'mon, baby. Cum for me."

“I'm still here, ya know,” Gojo purrs, then moans into your clit as you slightly yank at his hair. “Cum for me, cutie. Wanna taste ya.”

“M' gonna— gonna eat it up. Allll of it,” Caleb adds, breathless, lips gliding over your slit desperatly, selfish tongue draaaaging over your cunny, begging for you to just squirt right into his mouth. “You want that, pretty?”

With a nod and a quick glance at the cerulean eyes yearning for a reaction on your features and those lilac hues trying to suck your soul into his, you break.

“Thereee she is.”

Caleb's a madman now, fingers bruising into your thighs as if trying to keep you wide open, greedy for more. “So sweet, baby. Such a messy cunny— f-fuck.”

Your orgasm hits sudden and hard, whole body shuddering, thighs clamping around their heads. Voice cracking, cries and rambles of their names barely reaching their ears. Tears form at your lasline, toes curling at the massive wave of pleasure as your face contorts.

“Hahhh, ya should see yer face, pretty.”

Satoru's lips shine with your release, big fat beam plastered on his face as his tongue flicks one last teasing stroke over your clit just to make your body jolt.

They don't stop, keep going, mouths locked on you, dedicated as they suck and lick and pull every single drop you're offering out until you're twitching uncontrollably.

“Fuck,” Satoru breathes, pulling back to admire the mess. “Poor baby 's wrecked already."

He leans up to kiss you, slow and filthy, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. It's so nasty but still adicting, him devouring your mouth like a man starved as Caleb glares up at you, placing a possesive kiss to your thigh followed by a jealous bite to your flesh.

His hands begin to slide up your sides, and then he's at your other ear. “Still hungry,” he growls so deep you can feel the wetness oozing out of you. “Want more— g-gonna cum for us again, you can do that for me, yeah? Be a good girl and cream alllllll over me? Hm? Pleaseeee, baby."

"Hmm? M-more?"

"Mhmmm," Satoru conters, fingers brushing your soaked folds as he stares daggers into the brunette, placing a quick kiss to your temple. “Gonna give me one now?” he teases. "Fair's fair, cutie. Can't let him be the one takin' the win.”

The snowy head dissapears between your legs now, attacking your pussy again, mouth latching onto your pussy like he’s got something to prove, because he does.

His tongue flicks and curls, lips sealing around your clit in a maddening rhythm. He moans into you, and the vibrations make your back arch, sparks racing up your spine.

Caleb tilts your face to his, claiming your mouth with a possessive, greedy kiss. His fingers trail upward to pinch your nipple, rolling it just right while his tongue tangles with yours.

You're gasping into him, breathless and overstimulated, caught in the push-pull between their mouths, thighs locking around Satoru's head, white locks peaking from the gap as your hands grasp for the brunettes biceps.

“Feel that?” Caleb pants against your lips, teeth nipping just enough to make you twitch. “He's working reaaal hard for that second one, huh? But I’m still your favourite, right?”

"You wish." Satoru's pace quickens now, two fingers slipping inside you now, curling right against your g-spot as his tongue keeps torturing your clit.

“God,” you sob through breathless kisses, “you're both—fuck!—both insane—”

They moan in sync.

"W-wanna have you i-inside."

Both sets of eyes snap to yours. Wide and starved, ridiculously pretty for two men who already pulled an orgasm out of you— more incoming.

“Who?”

They ask together, like some twisted choir of temptation.

"D-don't care, just wanna—”

Satoru is the first to move.

You barely register the shift of weight before he's positioning himself beside you, hard-on of his pressing through your side, threatening to break free from his grey joggers, warm hands sliding under your thighs, smacking your pussy hard before he muffles a moan between biten lips.

“Greedyyy,” he murmurs, voice dipped in silk and sin. “I love it.”

Caleb shoots Satoru a look that could kill, jaw clenched, fists tight, barely holding himself back. He's twitching with restraint, knuckles white, his teeth gritted. But he doesn't speak, not yet. Instead, his hands go to the waistband of his boxers, yanking them down with a rough, frustrated grunt. His cock springs free, hard, flushed and leaking from the torture of holding back for hours.

He leans over you, guiding himself to your soaked entrance, knuckles brushing your hip like a silent apology he doesn’t have the words to speak. “I-inside. Inside.” he pants, voice frayed at the edges, trembling with desperation. “Gonna— gonna let me fill you up?"

You nod, hips twitching upwards and his tip catches the hood of your clit— that’s all it takes.

He pounds his entire girth into you in one swith thrust, burying himself to the hilt with a groan that sounds damn near feral. His head drops to your shoulder, breath hot and uneven as he starts to move, hips grinding into you, deep and raw, like he can't stand another second without being inside you.

Meanwhile, Satoru slides down again, mouth back at your clit, tongue relentless, his hand now freeing his hard cock, wrapping around the base as he spits down onto it, spit and your juices mixed, serving as lube.

He's jerking his length, hand locking around his blushed tip, hips stuttering as he watches your stuffed cunny streeeetching around Caleb's cock with needy, desperate gushes of your juices.

"Oh f-fuck." He's stroking his cock in firm, hungry fists, pace matching every brutal thrust Caleb drives into you. His breath hits your thighs in hot bursts, and his tongue doesn’t quit, flicking, curling, lapping at your clit like it's the only thing keeping him alive.

“Shit, shitshitshit—fuck,” he whimpers, almost delirious, dragging his tongue up your swollen bundle of nerves, circling it with the flat of it, slow and mean. His voice cracks into a moan as he stares down, wide-eyed, at the taut swell forming just beneath your bellybutton, his jaw going slack, eyes rolling to his skull. “Look at that. Fuck, look at her. Stuffed full and still takin' it— like a champ, baby. Yer' made for this.”

Caleb can't even form a word.

He's gone, eyes glazed, lips parted as he watches your cunt suck him in over and over again, the obnoxious sound of your crying pussy causing goosebumps to arise on his skin. His control is snapping thread by thread, hips pounding into you with frantic need, every movement fueled by the way your walls grip him like they own him, like they don't want to ever let him go.

His brain's fried, lost, so goddamn lost in your vice-like grip, your delicious, honeyed moans and that gorgeous face of yours contorting into the cutest grimace. All he can do is fuck you harder, bullying his cock deeper into you, eyes glued to the bump at your tummy, hand pushing down onto it.

You're gasping, twitching, mind unraveling with every thrust, every hot, wet flick against your clit when both their faces lift at once, hovering over yours.

Then it happens.

They both go for your mouth, lips colliding—messy and hot, and you're caught between them. Caleb growls against your cheek as Satoru laughs into your mouth, and suddenly both of them are fighting for your kiss like lions would for their prey.

“Mine,” Caleb snarls, pulling your face toward his with delicate force, crashing his lips to yours, shoving your body higher against the headboard with every ragged snap of his hips. You're crying out into his mouth, helpless against the feral need behind every movement.

“Nahhh,” Satoru pants, laughing breathlessly as he licks along the edge of your lips, stealing kisses where he can between Caleb's frantic ones. His hand works faster on his cock, slick and twitching in his grip, precum smearing across his knuckles. “She knows where home is,” he growls, voice pitched low as his thumb swipes his tip, eyes locked on your teary, bliss-wrecked face.

Your vision is a blur of white hair, brown curls, sweat, and tears. You're full, stretched around Caleb's cock still pumping into you like it's the last thing he'll ever do, while Satoru's tongue slips between your parted lips, your neck, nipples— messy and open-mouthed everywhere as he drinks down your moans.

“Say it,” Caleb gasps, pulling away just enough to pant against your lips, his voice shattering with need. “She's mine, right, pips? Fuckkk, tell me your pussy 's mine—fuck, baby—t-tell me."

"Awww, think she's gone dumb", Satoru coos, jerking himself faster, watching your stomach bulge slightly with each desperate thrust Caleb drives in. “Look at her cryin' on ya.”

Caleb shoots him a warning glare, fighting the urge to punch him in the face before he leans in, knuckles brushing your side as his eyes meet yours. “Shh shhh, baby. It's alright, you're doin' sooo well baby. So perfect f' me, yeah?”

And you are.

Tears streaming, mouth open in a silent cry, trembling beneath them. And when your orgasm hits again, it wrecks you. No warning, no build—just a sudden snap that makes you seize around Caleb's cock, milking him so hard he shouts, hips stuttering.

Satoru watches the exact second you cum, and that's all it takes.

Caleb's thrusts get rougher and sloppier, like he's afraid you’ll vanish if he doesn't fuck you deep enough, hard enough. His hands dig into your waist, grounding you in place as he slams into you, panting brokenly against your jaw.

“Fuck, baby— so p-perfect—'m not gonna last—” he chokes out, voice cracking with the strain. “Wanna cum with you—i-inside you—please, pleasepleaseplease.”

Caleb's whole body tenses, and then he's spilling inside you with a deep, broken groan, hips grinding against you to stay buried as deep as possible, pushing his hot white seed further into your womb while your poor cunt flutters around him.

“Fuuuuck, that's hot— yer so— fuh-fuck! so damn sexy, baby.” Satoru desperatly tugs at his length, lips tugged between his lips has his eyes jump from your messy cunt to your blissful face.

You blink up just in time to see him stroking his cock, slicked in precum, veins bulging down his shaft. His face is flushed, lips swollen from kissing and licking you raw, saliva trailing down his lips before it drips down onto your flushed skin. His snowy bangs stick to his forehead, eyes glued to where Caleb's still inside you, cum dripping out of your stuffed, stuttering hole.

He's such a mess, drool leaking from his mouth like he's a helpless, lust-drunk addict, completely dumb on you, eyes vacant, every twitch of his body a desperate plea for release.

“'M gonna—shiiiit, I’m gonna— gonna paint your stuffed tummy like a canvas.” He groans as his dick twitches at the thought, and then—

Thick ropes of cum spill across your stomach, hot and heavy, painting your skin in messy streaks. Satoru curses through gritted teeth, milking himself with sharp jerks, never looking away.

When he finally lets go of his cock, his chest is heaving, grin half-drunk. “Goddamn,” he murmurs, leaning down to press a filthy kiss to your cum-slicked stomach. “You’re a walking wet dream.”

There's a beat of silence, your breathing shaky, brain half-melted into the sheets until Caleb, still nestled deep inside you, strokes your thigh soothingly, littering kisses to your jaw.

“Sooo,” he begins, voice low and smug against your ear, “who rocked your world harder?

You groan. “Oh my god. Really?”

He grins, biting lightly at your shoulder. “Dead serious.”

Satoru shifts to your other side with a dramatic sigh, propping himself up on one elbow. His fingers trail up your stomach, lazily circling the mess he left there, before he leans down to whisper near your lips, eyes gleaming.

“I mean, we could settle a rematch,” he murmurs, tongue swiping the corner of your mouth. “But 'm pretty sure ya screamed my name when ya came just now.”

“Delusional,” Caleb mutters into your neck, but his hips twitch forward just slightly, like the challenge is already baiting him.

Gojo smirks, dipping to kiss your collarbone. “Hey, sweetie, still got one more round in ya'?” His hand slides between your thighs, teasing. “'Cause I'd really like to win this time. Fair and square.”

Caleb's mouth curls into a grin against your skin, grip tightening around your hips.

“You're on.”

©︎𝙎𝘼𝙏𝙍𝙎 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝. 2025.

Do NOT plagiarize, copy, modify, republish, or translate my work in any way!

[totemstones]

Burnout

(Giselle x Male Reader)

Tags : Bratty Gigi, Handjob, Sloppy Toppy, Sex, Dirty Talk, Mommy Kink, Recording

w/ plenty amount of music gimmicks

Length : 2.1K words

‘Nah, come on, you’ve never been like this. What happened?’

‘I just... have a little bit burnout’

You and Giselle are friends. You start getting closer to her since you have been doing songs with her, 24 songs that you and Giselle have done together, both finished and unfinished. Once you even think that you want to do a collab tape with her.

You were supposed to finish the verse on one song off Giselle's solo album. But at some point, you can’t even think of any lyrics, or words. 

‘Nah, keep your head up, man. You can do this. You can tell me what happened. We have been doin’ this things so many times. I’ll be your therapist’ - Giselle trying to cheers up yet concerns

‘I don’t know, i just-, feel like I can't think any words. But I don't have any problems for real. Don’t worry, nothin’ can stop me’

‘Cap. You look like a miserable guy right now, i can see. Let me do something’

Suddenly, Giselle starts to kneel in front of you while you sit on the sofa in the studio. She starts to put both of her hands and slide up from your shins, to your knees, and finish at your crotch. Then rubbing it at slow pace.

‘Woah woah, what you doin’?’

‘I just, you know-, give you a little heat. So, I decide to rub your wood. Based on the science, when the wood got rubbed, it creates fire. I heard that you’re burnout right? I want to lit your fire back again’

After that, she unbuckles your belt and takes off your pants down on the mat. The plump bulge that was caused by your friend got shown. When Giselle sees that, she does her mischievous smile after saw your wood.

‘Oh! I never knew that you have… such a big cock, a really really big one. Why you never show this to me? I guess this is your hidden talent, don’t hide it to me after this. OK?’ 

Your last cover was over, she takes off the underwear. Her face was too close to your cock that caused your cock flip up and hit her cheek.

‘Oh!, it slaps me. But what will hit me harder, your lyrics or your cock’

Giselle puts one hand to stroke your cock, and another hand to fondle your ball. Giselle pursing her lips while doing it. This action of hers can make you look at the ceiling and release a satisfying moan.

‘Have you ever thought- about… the fantasy about me?’

‘Nev- Never. Cuz you know- you’re my friend, it would be weird i-if I ever think about that. But since you’re doing this to me, i might looking forward about it- and thanks for this therapy’

Then, she pacing up the tempo and puts her both hands to pumping your cock, still seeing the glans even when she puts both hands on.

‘Your cock is so fucking big. Anyways. Do you love me-?’

‘Yes. I fucking love you’

‘I’m not even finished the fucking question, I just want to ask that if you love me when I'm doing this’

‘Fuck’

You thought that she was asking if you love her, you slipped out your real feeling of her.

‘So. Do you really love me?’ 

‘Definitely’ 

‘Alright. call me mommy then?’

‘What- Ah hell nah, you’re not my mommy’

At first, you feel offended. But then, Giselle start to playing with your cock, put her face closer to your cock and place it on her face, you can feel the breath from her nose that give you a goosebump.

‘Look at me! Your cock is longer than my face. I don’t know how many times I’ll say this, but you have such a big cock’

Giselle puts her nose and drags along from your balls to the cock. Then started to put it into her mouth.

‘Oh! I'm sorry. I just wanted to play with it for more minutes, but it ended up in my mouth. I'm sorry for the accident. But I think you want it to happen, right? So, since it happening, I’ll continue it’

Giselle starts to suck you cock, goes up and down, while keeping both eyes on you, wanting to see your relaxing face from this therapy section. Giselle keeps spitting on your cock, and oftenly switches to handjob that more slippery than before. Giselle getting more sloppy, her face full of her own saliva, her lips have lipstick color faded marks. She start to giving faster pace for you.

‘I've been doing this for a while now. Can you finally call me mommy?’

‘No. I didn’t see your full potential yet. Instead, Can you show me your hidden talent? Since i had already showed it to you. If it great, i might call it for you then’

‘Deal. And i’m not only do it for the calling, ‘cause i’ll make you scream it’ 

Giselle moving far away from you, standing in the middle of the room. Then, she starts to pull her jeans down, showing her pink panties. Then taking off her pink hoodie, showing the pink bra that she is wearing.

‘That’s a bar’

‘What? I’m not even rapping yet’

' I'm just saying that's a 'bra' '

‘Alright, enough. Fuck me then’

‘You want it now?’

‘Yeah, fuck that. I want it now’

Giselle starts to take off her bra, showing her pink titties. And take off her panties as well, showing her pink pussy. She’s throwing both of covers at you. You gotta wipe it to the side to see her full naked body. 

‘Damn. How many pinky things in you?’

‘All pink. But i’m thinking ‘bout dying my hair red. So, Can you paint the white for me before?’

‘As you want, Gigi’

Giselle moving closer to you, controlling your head up by her finger and kissing for a moment, you feel like you’ve fallen into a trance by her passionate kissing. While Giselle still not moving her mouth out of you, you can feel that your cock is starting to sense something had touched and its moving slowly.

‘You feeling it?’

‘A Little’

‘Wanna feel more?’

‘Yeah’

Giselle puts her body down like how gravity works. Both of you release the moans, feeling the same thing. She hugs your neck and slowly moves up and down, while you sucking at her tits.

‘Ah- it’s feeling so good, never have a big cock inside me like yours before. This satisfying me a lot’

You also move your hips to hit her pink kitty, the slapping sound has turned both of you on so much.

‘It’s getting too quiet in here. Can you come to the recording room to open some songs for me?’

‘Aight’

Before you take it out, Giselle hits your arm and pushes you back before you even stand up.

‘Wha- What?’

‘I forgot to tell you, I have a little challenge for you; Move to the room with me, but your cock have to still stuck in me, don’t take it out yet. Can you do it?’

‘Ah- fine’

‘Yah! Good boy’

You stand up and carrying her body to go to the inside of the room, one hand entwines her butt and the other hand hugs her from behind. Giselle starts to move again, but moving like she’s struggling. You can’t fully control your legs and it makes her back hitting the table at mixing panel. And then, she starts screaming.

‘AHHHHHHH Help meeeee’

‘I’m sorry. Where’s you hurting’

‘Just move and come into the room!’

‘Ok Ok’

You ran into the recording room, and put her on the table and checked what happened to her.

‘AHHHH HELP ME!’

‘WHERE DO YOU GET HURT- WHERE!’

You look at every spot of her body that if she’s hurting or anything. At that moment, Giselle starts to laughing at you.

‘Haha i didn’t say that i’m hurting, dumbo, don’t overreact. I mean ‘help me- to cum already’, i’m too horny for this, i can’t bare with it anymore. I want you to cum in me and cum with me together’

‘Bruh, bratty behavior’

You put her on the table and start pounding her again while Giselle grabs her phone and tries to select the song.

‘Can you fucking stay still? I can’t even clicking the song’

‘Guess it’s my challenge then’

‘Alright’

You continue pounding her without knowing what song she will put on the speakers. Once it got play, you can recognize your voice on it. 

‘Is that our song?’

‘Yea- Yeah. It’s our song, i always love thi-this song, ah- i love hearing your voice on the track, it makes me wet every time. Once i ever fingered myself while playing this song on repeat’

‘That’s romantic f-for me. But wait? This song isn’t finished yet right?’

‘Ye- Yeah?’

Giselle already knows that you might bring the mood back again, the feeling of unfinishing the work. Then, she starts to have an idea.

‘Ca- Can you bring that mic to me’

‘Huh? What you gon do?’

‘Bring that shit!’

You bring the microphone to her and put it beside you and Giselle.

‘Can you o-open the file of this song and record it?’

‘Al- alright What you gon do?’

‘Have you ever heard of ‘P Power’ by Gunna’

‘Oh. I understand it’

‘Yeah, do it like what they did’

You turn your back to the computer and look for the file of this song. When you find it, you prepare to start the special recording session.

‘You Ready?’

‘Let’s do it’

You press the record button, the 90’s R&B instrumental fulfills this sex scene, it makes you pound her harder than ever. All the sounds that happen in this room got recorded through a microphone.

‘Ah- Ah- Harder baby I'm nearly cum now. Ah- you’re pounding me so good baby. Make me cum please and we can cum together’

‘Ah- Your pussy is so good baby, wish i could pound this forever. No better pussy like yours baby, you sucked me so good lately’

The song was close to the outro and you feel like you are about to cum soon.

‘I’m about to cum baby, are you close yet?’

‘Ah- Yes Baby. I’m nearly cum now’

‘Let’s cum together’

‘Before you cum in me, ah- Can you call me mommy one time?’

‘Yes I can. Mommy. Milking me please, ‘til my breath runs out, ‘til i can’t cum anymore’

The part where the drums were cut off is the time that you and Giselle had cum together, only the sex scene sound and a few instruments. You both felt good feelings for each other, showing their relieved expression. You bend closer to her and whisper.

‘I love you baby’

‘Love you too’

Before you start to get tissue to wipe anything, you press the stop recording button on the screen and start to clean the booth for her.

‘You love this idea aren't you?’ 

‘Love it, you’re so fucking creative’

‘I’m creatively fucking, should add bed squeaking sound after’

‘You want to add it?’

‘Yes. It might add more tension for the song’

‘Let’s record it at my house then’

You have the fire again and recorded a few songs after that sex. And you went back home with Giselle to recorded the bed squeaking sound.

Next week, the appointment of the next recording session. You open the door and see the producer sitting in front of the computer.

‘Hey! What’s up man’

‘Hi Nice to meet you bro’

‘Nice to meet you too. How many beats you’ve produced this morning’

‘A couple, man’

‘That’s great. Show it to me then’

‘Before I show it to you. Can i ask you a question’

‘Yeah?’

‘I just went to see what you produced last week, and then I found this: What happened to this song?’

‘What song?’

The producer plays that song that had special recording last week, the voice recording was the length of the full song, 4 minutes long with sex sound behind it. You start smiling to the producer.

‘What the fuck is this?’

‘I mean, It's a sample bruh, just put it for the mood man, 90’s R&B vibe’s songs often play while people are having sex, you didn’t know that?’

‘I mean-, alright. i’ll give it to you man’

‘Yeah, right? Slow and smooth instrumentals are created something, don’t cut it off the track, leave it, it’s already finished’

You talk with producer and then go into the booth to record some songs. Suddenly, your producer wants you to listen something.

‘Hey, you want to listen to the song that Giselle had recorded a couple days ago? You might want to hop on the track’

‘Yeah play it’

The producer plays Giselle’s unfinished song with this bar on it.

‘If you wanna be my pet, call me mommy’

You start to smile and giggle a little at what she said. The producer sees your reaction. 

‘What do you even laugh about?’

‘Nothing’

Then you continue this session, while that bar is still around your head, reminding you of the special session last week. 

- totemstones

[wonderjanga]

Marvel Being Destructive

Marvel’s destructive. It’s not even on purpose too. It just happens. He can’t control it. For the most part, that is. Like, he’ll get startled and pull a Castiel from that one episode of Supernatural.

Marvel: *trying to steal some food for Billy*

Flash: “Cap, buddy!”

Marvel: *startles and the lightbulb above them just bursts*

*loud silence*

Flash: “Cap, whose leftovers are those?”

Marvel: *slowly turns around to look at Flash, sure enough, Marvel’s holding a container or Tupperware, with a sticky note that said GL* “Uh… mine?”

Flash: “I can see that they’re Hal’s.”

Marvel: *takes off the sticky note and crumples it in his hand. Then proceeds to fry it with lightning* “What’re you talking about?”

Flash: *a little speechless*

Marvel: “Right… So I’m gonna go. See you, Flash.” *little wave as he walks off*

Billy felt really bad about it, but the kid needed it more than Hal at the moment. Probably. Look, he was running low on money at the moment and hadn’t eaten in a couple days. The hunger pangs were getting to him. He did end up making a bunch of food for Hal in an attempt to apologize.

GL: “Woah, what’s all this?”

Marvel: *in full lightning bolt apron* “Uh… Remember how you were complaining last week about how someone stole your food?”

GL: “Yeah?”

Marvel: “Right, well that was me.”

GL: *dramatic gasp* “I vented to you about that! And you just took it like you were innocent?!”

Marvel: “I know, I know, and I’m sorry. Just eat all the food I made for you. Please?”

GL: *looks to the freaking feast Marvel made for him* “Yeah, okay. I forgive you.” *starts chowing down* “By the way, why’d you steal my foot anyways? I thought you didn’t need to eat.”

Marvel: “I just really needed it at the time.”

GL: “Why?”

Marvel: “Just eat the food, Hal.”

Then, there’s the fact that Billy sometimes forgets he isn’t as small as he usually is. Like, he’s gotten used to it. After all, he’s been Cap for almost four years now. He now unconsciously bends down when entering and exiting through doors due to the fact he’s cracked his head on more doorframes than he can count. This even bled over to Billy who’s only about 5’4 and definitely doesn’t need to do it. But, every now and then as Cap, he’ll slip up and forget he isn’t that little scrawny short kiddo.

JL: *all having a meeting* Marvel: *drops something under the table and leans down the pick it it up*

GA: *immediately grabs his mug of coffee and scoots back from the table*

Other JL members: *watch in confusion as GA scoots back but then watch in slow motion at Marvel tries to get back to his chair and stands up to early. The table slowly starts tilting up and all of their stuff slides to the floor. Marvel then gets out from under the table and the table falls back to the floor with a loud bang*

Marvel: *confused by the loud bang and looks back* “Where’d all your guys’ stuff go?”

GA: *scoots back to table and puts his mug back down* “No idea, bud.”

The reason Green Arrow knew to take his stuff and scoot back is that one time when he got lunch with Cap, he watched in real time as his burger and soda slid off the table when the big man went down to grab a fork he dropped.

Then, there’s the super duper ultra rare times he forgets his own strength. Like, once a year, he’ll break something or someone and then end up having to apologize a lot.

Batman: *shows Marvel an explosive batarang* “These are extremely delicate. If they’re chipped or thrown at someone, they’ll explo-”

Marvel: *reaches over to touch it and accidentally snaps a piece of it off*

*silence*

*beeping noise starts*

Marvel: *panics and breaks the rest of it and shoves it in his mouth, basically eating the explosion, Superman style*

Batman: *stares for a solid minute* “I could’ve turned it off, Captain.”

Marvel: *coughs up smoke looking embarrassed* “Sorry, Mister Batman Sir.”

Batman: *stares for another solid minute* “Can we talk about how your first instinct was to eat it?”

Marvel: “I’d rather not.”

Batman: “I really think we should.”

[slattlicker]

Imagine, if you will, virgin gf whos just so fucking horny for Schlatt, girl is down BAD, for this man so much so that Schlatt has to be like “woah hey let’s slow down okay dont wanna hurt yourself toots” (Toots🤤🤤) and has to like pin (gently but still pinning) you down and talk to you in that like (idk what to call it) like “gentle parent” (???) voice so you don’t hurt yourself cause hes just so BIG and he could also probably potentially hurt a partner who HAS had sex before cause of his size so his partner whose never had sex? Oh hes terrified he might tear you in half of he isn’t careful.

╭﹐✦˚₊· 𖤐 * baby’s first time ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ ╮ imagine: third date. a movie. a kiss. a girl too far gone to think straight—and a man trying his hardest not to ruin her. ╰﹒♡₊˚๑ *✧﹒✦ ࣪ ˖ ┊

﹒₊✦ a/n: inspired by a not-so-little ask about a virgin reader down bad for schlatt ♡ i may have wandered into tenderness territory, and,,, i'm not sorry!!

warnings: explicit content (MDNI !!!) · virgin reader · size kink · dom/sub dynamics (soft) · thigh riding · fingering · handjob · creampie · aftercare

enjoy, ma luvs ♡

✧✧✧

the door clicks open, and schlatt steps aside like he’s done this a hundred times before.

“welcome to casa de big guy,” he says dryly. “wipe your feet, don’t judge the furniture, and if anything smells like axe body spray, it wasn’t me.”

you laugh, stepping inside. “real strong opening. totally reassuring.”

his place is… honestly, kind of nice. not in a curated, architectural digest way. just warm. lived in. the couch is stupidly big, the rug doesn’t match, and there’s an open bottle of something expensive on the kitchen counter. but it feels like him.

he closes the door behind you. “you want a drink?”

you nod. “water’s fine.”

“boring,” he says, already heading to the kitchen. “love that.”

you roll your eyes and tug off your shoes. he’s still in his button-up from dinner, sleeves rolled up, top buttons undone. the chain at his neck catches the light when he moves, and your brain short-circuits just a little.

you perch on the edge of the couch. try not to look like you’re imagining things you absolutely shouldn’t be imagining this early into a relationship.

he brings you a bottle of water and flops down beside you like gravity owes him something.

“so,” he says, stretching out with one arm behind you, “movie or mario kart?”

you glance at him. “you’re letting me choose?”

“no,” he says. “just seeing what you’d pick before i put on something i like.”

you scoff. “you’re the worst.”

he grins—wide and smug. “yeah, but i’ve got surround sound.”

you snatch the remote before he can reach for it.

“put on something you like,” you say innocently. “let me see what kind of freak you really are.”

he gives you a look. the kind that makes your stomach flip.

“careful,” he says, leaning back, spreading his legs just slightly. “you might find out.”

you raise a brow. “oh no. not—i mean, your taste.”

schlatt laughs, low and lazy. “you think i’ve got bad taste, toots?”

“i think you have questionable judgment and a subscription to every streaming service but HBO.”

“jealousy’s ugly on you,” he mutters, shifting closer, one hand sliding behind your neck like it’s nothing. “good thing you look cute in everything else.”

your breath catches.

that look in his eyes—just amused enough to be dangerous—makes it hard to think.

he leans in slow, gives you enough time to pull away.

but you don’t.

he leans in, and when those lips meet yours—it’s not just a peck. it’s hungry. it’s claiming. it’s everything you’ve been craving since date one.

your fingers tangle in his shirt. his hand cups your jaw. every nerve in your body jumps.

you press closer, breath colliding, wanting it to go further—but just as you're about to lose control, he pulls back.

with the most smug ass smile you've ever encountered.

you’re blinking, breath caught, body still hot.

he taps your water bottle like he’s reminding you to hydrate. “told you i’ve got taste.”

you stare at him, deflated and fired up all at once.

he picks up the remote again. turns the volume up. settles back.

“so,” he says. "movie."

✧✧✧

you’re nestled into the corner of the couch now, tucked under his arm, legs draped over his lap like you’ve done this a hundred times.

the movie plays—low volume, muted light, something with a plot you’re not following.

you’re too focused on the way his thumb brushes the inside of your arm. the occasional squeeze at your waist. the weight of him beneath you.

you’re warm. a little sleepy. a lot horny.

and without realizing it, you start to move.

just the tiniest roll of your hips. back into his thigh.

barely anything.

but the friction makes your breath hitch.

you do it again.

and again.

you don’t even know you’re doing it until he shifts slightly beneath you—just enough to make you freeze.

“…you good, toots?”

your eyes snap open. “what?”

he tilts his head down, chin brushing your temple. his voice is low, soft. amused.

“you keep grinding on my leg like you’re trying to make coffee or something."

you go completely still.

a beat passes. then another.

and then—humiliated—you bury your face in his chest with a groan.

“oh my god. i wasn’t—i didn’t mean to—”

his hand rubs your back slowly. “i know.”

you peek up at him, mortified. “please tell me you’re not mad.”

“mad?” he huffs a laugh and grabs the remote, clicking the movie off. “sweetheart, i’m flattered.”

he sets the remote aside, then shifts so he can face you more fully. one arm still around your waist. the other rubbing your thigh—gentle, slow.

“but listen,” he murmurs. “i gotta be honest with you, alright?”

your stomach flips.

“yeah?” you ask, quiet.

his gaze drops—thigh, hand, then back to you.

“i’ve been doing this a long time,” he says, voice low and even. “you haven’t. i know that.”

you go a little rigid in his lap. “did i… say that?”

he huffs a laugh—low and knowing. “you didn’t have to.”

“okay, well—” you sit up straighter, shrug like it’s no big deal. “i mean, i’m not completely inexperienced—”

“no?”

“i’ve done stuff.”

“stuff.”

“yes, stuff.”

he tilts his head. “like?”

you blink. “like—like things.”

he’s smiling now. “specific things?”

“god, why are you interrogating me—”

“because you keep lying, sweetheart,” he says, gently. “and you’re really, really bad at it.”

you sputter. “i’m not—i’m not lying—”

“you moaned when i kissed your neck. Once. and your whole body went stiff the second my hand hit your thigh.” he leans in, eyes dark. “you haven’t done anything.”

you go silent.

he softens. “that’s not a problem. it’s just a fact.”

you glance away—embarrassed.

“...i didn’t want to seem totally clueless.”

“baby. i like you clueless.” he cups your jaw, tilts your face back to his. “i’m not tryna scare you off. i just—look, i’m a big guy. and i can be rough without meaning to. so if we’re gonna do this—if you ever wanna go there—i gotta know it’s not just because you’re all worked up and desperate for it. i gotta know it’s you. choosing it.”

you blink.

heart hammering.

because this is not what you expected.

he smiles a little at your expression. “that surprise you?”

you nod slowly. “i just—i didn’t think you’d care.”

his brow lifts. “toots,” he mutters. “you think i’m gonna risk splitting you in half just so i can blow my load five minutes faster?”

your face burns.

but you laugh, burying your face in his chest again.

he wraps both arms around you now. holding you close.

“tell me what you want, baby,” he says, voice lower now. slower. “not what you think i wanna hear. what you want.”

you swallow.

“i don’t know,” you whisper. “i just… i wanna feel you.”

he hums.

and you feel it—in his chest, under your hands.

“yeah?” he says softly. “you think you’re ready for that?”

you nod, but it’s hesitant. you’re still tucked close. still trembling a little.

he pulls back just enough to look at you.

his eyes are soft, but there’s heat behind them. serious heat.

“you ever ridden a thigh before?”

you blink. “ridden a… what?”

his lips twitch. “that’s a no.”

“i didn’t say no,” you protest, even as your brain scrambles for anything close. “i just—I mean, it’s not exactly common—”

“it is when you know what you’re doing.”

you stare at him. “and you just… sit on it?”

he chuckles. “no, baby. you grind.”

your mouth goes dry. “oh.”

he raises a brow, watching the realization hit you. “still wanna try?”

your throat’s dry. your fingers curl in the fabric of his shirt.

you nod.

“yeah,” you whisper. “okay.”

his smile is small. quiet. something between gentle and dangerous.

“attagirl.” he shifts beneath you, spreading his legs a little wider, patting his thigh. “c’mon, sweetheart. right here.”

you crawl over hesitantly, face burning, nerves crawling under your skin. the second your knees settle on either side of his leg, you realize just how big he really is.

your core is barely brushing his thigh.

you’re not even fully seated and you already feel stretched—high up, slightly off balance, comically small on top of him.

“is this… okay?” you ask quietly, looking down at him. “like—am i doing it right?”

he smiles—lazy, warm, and just a little crooked. his hands settle lightly on your hips.

“you’re perfect,” he says, thumbs stroking circles into your skin. “we’ll get you there.”

you start to move—tentative, cautious, rocking your hips forward just a little. the friction is barely there, but it already lights something up in your belly.

you shift again, trying to roll your hips in a smoother motion.

“…is this how you do it?” you ask. “i feel like i’m not…”

schlatt cuts you off with a quiet hum, and his hands tighten just slightly.

“hey. you don’t gotta know how,” he murmurs. “that’s what i’m here for.”

he lifts his thigh just a little under you, adjusting the pressure, guiding you forward with a slow tug at your hips.

“try that.”

you gasp. the contact is better. more direct.

“oh—oh, okay…”

you keep going. a little clumsier than you’d like. shifting, huffing, trying not to grind down too hard.

you look at him again. “sorry—i’m just—i don’t wanna mess it up.”

he chuckles under his breath, voice low and thick.

“baby, you’re not gonna break anything,” he says.

“but—you're so—i mean, your leg is—”

he tilts his head, smirking.

“what? big?”

you nod, mortified. “yeah. that.”

his voice dips even lower. “you ever stop to think what the rest of me might do to you if we’re not careful?”

your breath catches. you can’t answer.

he leans forward, mouth brushing your ear.

“trust me, toots,” he whispers. “you’re doin’ just fine.”

you’re trying—god, you’re trying—but every shift of your hips feels clumsy. your thighs are already shaking, and you can’t tell if it’s from the effort or the nerves or the fact that his hands haven’t left your waist since he put you there.

“i—i don’t know if i’m doing this right,” you mumble. “it feels good, but it’s not—like—how it’s supposed to be, right?”

schlatt’s eyes narrow slightly. not annoyed—just watching. reading you.

he shifts under you again, thigh flexing between your legs, dragging right where you need it.

“sweetheart,” he says, voice low and slow, “look at me.”

you do. hesitant. flushed. bottom lip caught between your teeth.

his hand cups your jaw gently—thumb brushing the corner of your mouth, just enough to make you still.

“you’re not here to perform,” he murmurs. “you’re here to feel. and feel good. got it?”

you nod, barely breathing.

“good girl.”

your breath hitches.

“you feel how wet you are right now?” he asks, one hand sliding from your waist to between your legs—pressing you down harder onto his thigh. you gasp. your hands clench at his shoulders.

“that’s what i care about,” he mutters. “not rhythm. not looking cute. just you, soaking my leg like it’s the only thing that’s ever made you feel good.”

you whimper, and he grins, a flash of teeth.

“yeah, that’s better,” he says. “that’s my girl.”

your hips start moving again. this time instinctively. not polished. not graceful. just needy.

“you hear those sounds you’re making?” he breathes, eyes locked on you. “you think i give a fuck how ‘right’ your hips are moving when you’re whimpering like that on my leg?”

your eyes flutter closed, head tipping back, and he grabs your waist again, guiding you now—gentle but firm.

“don’t stop now, baby,” he murmurs. “you’re doin’ perfect. get what you need from me.”

you’re getting there.

fast.

too fast.

your hips are stuttering now—small, frantic rolls, thighs trembling as you grind down hard enough that the seam of your underwear is soaked through.

and still, his hands stay on you. firm. supportive. in charge.

“you gonna come like this?” he asks, voice a rough whisper against your ear. “just from my thigh?”

you nod—desperate, whimpering.

“i—i think so—feels so good—”

“you poor little thing,” he mutters, teeth brushing your cheek. “you wanna come that bad? just like that? just from rubbing yourself on me?”

your breath hitches. your hands claw at his shirt.

and then—

he stops you.

big hands wrapping tight around your waist, lifting you off his thigh before you can fall over that edge.

you whine—loudly—hips twitching, eyes wide, clit pulsing and unsatisfied.

“wha—why—?! schlatt—”

“uh-uh,” he cuts you off, voice calm but firm. “i felt you getting close. didn’t say you could come, did i?”

you shake your head, nearly crying with frustration.

he shifts you in his lap, laying you back gently against the cushions, kneeling between your legs now. and you feel it—how big he is, crouched over you, gaze dark, hands trailing slow up your thighs.

“you know what your problem is, baby?”

you shake your head, still breathing hard.

“you’re too busy thinking about what it’d be like to ride me,” he murmurs, hand sliding between your legs again. “aren’t you?”

your eyes go wide.

he chuckles—dark and amused.

“you were fuckin’ fantasizing. thinking about how good i’d feel inside you. weren’t you?”

you nod helplessly.

“yeah. that’s what i thought.” he hums. “bet you got a whole little movie going in your head, me on top of you. me inside you. ruining that tight little pussy before you even know what to do with it.”

you squirm under his gaze, but he’s already tugging at the tie around your waist. undoing your dress like it’s a gift he’s taking his sweet time unwrapping.

✧✧✧

“you don’t even know what you’re asking for, do you?”

you shake your head, breath shaky. “i just—i want to feel you.”

his expression softens—but only slightly.

“you will,” he says. “but you’re gonna feel my fingers first.”

he pulls your panties aside, thick fingers brushing through your soaked folds. you gasp—hips lifting instinctively.

“you’re so wet, sweetheart,” he murmurs. “all from my thigh? from grinding like a needy little thing?”

you nod, helpless.

he slips one finger in—slowly. carefully.

you moan—high and shocked, head tipping back.

“god, you’re tight,” he breathes. “clenching already and it’s just one.”

his free hand presses gently on your belly, keeping you grounded.

“this okay?” he asks. “want me to keep going?”

you nod frantically. “please, sir—”

he smiles at that. then adds a second finger.

you cry out, legs twitching as he stretches you open—slow, steady, mercilessly gentle.

he leans in close, voice right at your ear.

“you feel stretched?” he murmurs, voice low.

you nod, lips parted, struggling to stay still.

“mm.” he smirks. “and that’s just two fingers, toots.”

his other hand trails down your thigh, thumb stroking your skin like a reward. like praise. but his tone stays calm, clinical, almost condescending.

“you’re squeezin’ so tight, i can barely move,” he says. “and you were thinkin’ you could take my cock?”

you moan again—helpless, humiliated.

he chuckles softly. “gonna hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but you’re not even close. maybe if you were able to take four...”

his fingers press in deeper, curling just right—and you jolt, crying out, hands gripping the cushions like lifelines.

“shit—okay—okay—”

“you feel that?” he breathes. “that’s what a fraction of me feels like.”

you blink up at him, glassy-eyed. his shirt’s still buttoned, collar open. he hasn’t even rolled his sleeves down. meanwhile, you’re wrecked—basically naked, needy, completely undone.

he leans in, mouth at your ear.

“you’re not takin’ my cock, baby. you’re takin’ my fingers, and barely that.”

you whimper, shame heating your skin.

“and you’re doin’ your best, you are,” he soothes, voice soft now—mockingly tender. “but if i tried to fuck you tonight? you’d cry just from the tip.”

your hips twitch. you hate how wet you are from that—how your cunt clenches around his fingers like it agrees.

he feels it.

“ohhh,” he breathes, grinning. “you like that idea?”

you try to look away.

his hand grabs your jaw—gentle, but firm—and turns you back to face him.

“don’t look away now,” he murmurs. “you just squeezed around my fingers like that was the best fuckin’ thing you ever heard.”

you swallow hard, lips parted, heart slamming in your chest.

“you like the idea of crying on it, don’t you?” he presses, voice low. “sittin’ in my lap, all cockdrunk and teary, beggin’ me not to put the rest in?”

you whimper.

and that makes him grin. slow. cruel.

“jesus. you been thinkin’ about that for a while, haven’t you?”

you nod—helpless.

“how long?”

you blink, trying to gather words—but you can’t.

so he curls his fingers just right, and you gasp—back arching, thighs twitching.

“c’mon, toots,” he says, soft and coaxing. “use that mouth. tell me.”

you breathe, high and shaky. “since… our first date.”

that stuns him for a second. his brows lift—just a flicker of disbelief.

“first date?” he echoes, lips twitching. “we split a pizza and you were already thinkin’ about gettin’ split open?”

you cover your face, humiliated. “i didn’t know it’d be like this.”

he pulls your hand away—still grinning, still wrecking you with just the look in his eyes.

“like what?”

“big,” you whisper. “so big.”

his grin deepens, fingers dragging slow and deep, hitting a spot that makes your hips jerk.

“haven’t even shown you yet,” he murmurs. “but you’ve been thinkin’ about it—how wide you’d have to stretch. how it’d feel when i finally push in. that right?”

you nod, eyes wet, lips trembling. “mm-hm.”

he leans in—voice low, coaxing, wrecked.

“and now you know,” he breathes. “now you really know what you’re beggin’ for.”

then his thumb finds your clit again—circling firm, slow, devastating—and your whole body locks up.

“go on, sweetheart,” he murmurs, lips brushing your cheek. “come for me. just like this. just from my fingers.”

you shatter—body seizing, legs shaking, hands scrabbling for anything to hold onto. his wrist. the couch. the air. your cry breaks in your throat.

he groans low, thumb easing up, fingers still deep, drawing it out as long as he can.

“that’s it,” he whispers. “good girl. there you go.”

and then, slowly, finally, he slips his fingers out.

you whimper at the loss.

he brings them to his mouth.

licks them clean.

eyes never leaving yours.

you swallow hard, flushed and shaking and so far gone—but when he starts reaching for the throw blanket draped over the back of the couch, you blink.

“…what are you doing?”

he tilts his head, amused. “trying to wrap you up before you fall asleep sittin’ in your own afterglow.”

you frown—confused, needy, offended. “you’re just… done?”

schlatt pauses, blanket still half-unfolded. “i mean—yeah?” he says, hesitant. “was kinda hopin’ to get you cozy again…maybe finish the movie, head to bed…”

you stare at him, lips parted. “but i don’t want to sleep.”

his brow furrows. “toots…”

“no, i’m serious.” you sit up, pulling your shirt down as best you can—not that it helps, considering your whole body’s still humming from his fingers. “i don’t want to stop. not yet.”

“you just came so hard i thought you forgot your name,” he says, voice rough but not unkind. “i figured you’d wanna—”

“i didn’t come here to nap on your couch,” you say, more force behind your words now. “i came here because i like you. because i trust you. and because i knew if you touched me—really touched me—it was gonna feel this good.”

he doesn’t speak.

so you go on, cheeks burning:

“i’ve been wanting you for weeks, schlatt. but if you’re not into it—if you think i’m just some wide-eyed virgin who can’t handle you—then say that. but don’t sit there and act like you don’t want me when you’ve got a goddamn tent in your jeans.”

that makes him snort—actually snort—but the sound is low and almost pained.

he rubs the back of his neck, looking away for a beat before meeting your eyes again.

“fuck, toots,” he mutters. “it’s not that i don’t want you. jesus. believe me, i do. i’m dying over here.”

“then what?” you ask, quieter now.

his jaw ticks. “i’m tryin’ not to be the asshole who rushes a girl into something she’ll regret. especially one who’s never done it before. especially you.”

you sit still for a moment. swallow hard. then:

“i’m not rushing. i’m asking. and i’m not trying to jump straight into sex. i just… i wanna see you. i wanna touch you. i wanna make you feel good, too.”

his breath hitches.

you shift closer. rest a hand over his. “let me?”

he stares at you—searching. maybe for fear, maybe for hesitation?

but he finds neither.

“…alright,” he says, voice lower than before. “we’ll take it slow."

you nod.

and then?

he leans back on the couch and spreads his thighs—just a little.

“then c’mon, sweetheart,” he murmurs, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips. “you wanted to touch?”

you nod again—heart pounding.

“be gentle with it, now,” he adds, undoing his jeans. “he’s not used to sweet girls with tiny little hands.”

schlatt undoes his jeans slow, deliberate—like he’s still giving you time to change your mind.

you don’t.

can’t.

not with the way your mouth’s gone dry and your thighs are already pressing together again.

he shoves the denim down his thighs and leans back, boxers tented—massively—the outline of him enough to make your breath catch.

and then, finally, he tugs the waistband down.

you suck in a breath.

jesus.

he’s huge.

long and heavy, flushed dark at the tip, veined and thick and impossibly real. he’s hard—painfully hard—and lying against his stomach like he knows damn well you’re staring.

and you are.

because your mind’s blank.

wiped.

replaced with the single, earth-shattering thought:

there’s no way that’s fitting inside me.

but you want to try.

and then?

you notice it.

a glint of silver.

pierced—through the underside of the head. a smooth, shining barbell catching the soft lamp light, nestled against all that flushed skin like it belongs there.

your thighs press tighter.

“holy shit,” you whisper.

he raises a brow, cocky but cautious. “too much?”

you shake your head violently.

“no. no, i just—” you blink, still stunned. “it’s just… bigger than i thought. and the piercing…”

he smirks. “didn’t peg you for the kind who’d like that.”

you lick your lips. “i didn’t know i liked it.”

he lets out a low, breathless chuckle. “fuck, you’re cute.”

you reach out—hesitant at first—until your fingers brush against his length, and he exhales hard through his nose.

“careful,” he mutters. “he’s shy.”

you glance up, wide-eyed.

he’s already watching you, his gaze dark and steady, one arm thrown over the back of the couch like he’s trying to look casual—but the flex of his thigh beneath your knee gives him away.

you wrap your hand around him, featherlight.

his breath catches. “a little tighter, baby.”

you squeeze—barely.

he groans. “yeah. just like that.”

you pump once, twice, awkward and unsure. “am i…?”

“you’re doin’ so good,” he says, voice rough. “just keep goin’. nice and slow.”

you bite your lip and keep your eyes on your hand, watching the way his skin shifts, how your fingers don’t quite close all the way around.

god, he’s thick.

he guides you gently—fingers curling over yours, setting the pace, the rhythm.

“that’s it,” he murmurs. “easy, yeah? keep your hand right there—good girl.”

the praise makes your stomach flutter.

you pump again, smoother now. his hips twitch—just a little—and he sucks in a breath through his teeth.

“try twisting your wrist a little at the top,” he says, almost too calmly. “not too much. just—fuck, yeah, like that.”

you look up at him again, half-proud, half-hungry.

his jaw’s tight. he’s breathing hard. and the muscle in his thigh jumps every time you give him a firmer stroke.

you’re learning fast.

another slow pump and there it is—a bead of slick, glistening at the tip.

you blink.

then, without thinking, you lean in and press a kitten lick to it—light, curious, reverent.

he chokes.

“jesus—fuck, baby—”

you flinch back. “sorry! i didn’t—was that—?”

he huffs a breath, eyes squeezing shut like he’s trying to reset the entire planet.

“no, that was—shit, that was perfect. you’re so fucking perfect.”

you glance down again.

still curious.

still hungry.

you lean in—and this time, you press your tongue flat to the base and drag it all the way up. slow. careful. lingering at the tip with another kitten lick, like it’s instinct.

he bucks.

actually bucks.

“fuck, baby—!”

you sit back again, blinking up at him, lips slick, proud and a little uncertain.

“…did i mess up?”

he stares at you like you’ve just reinvented sex. like he can’t decide if he’s terrified or in love.

then you do it again.

same motion.

same wide eyes looking up at him.

his hand shoots out—grabs the base of his cock like it’s the only thing keeping him from losing it all over your pretty, determined face.

“okay,” he rasps. “okay, that’s enough.”

you pout. “why?”

he looks wrecked. cheeks flushed, hair mussed, thighs tensed like steel under you.

“because if you do that one more fucking time,” he growls, “i’m gonna come so hard i black out, and that’s not how i wanna finish this date.”

you blink. then slowly smile.

“…so i’m good at it?”

“sweetheart,” he huffs, tugging you into his lap again, “you’re a goddamn menace.”

he tucks you into his lap like muscle memory—your bare thighs stretched over denim, your flushed face resting against his shoulder.

his cock is still hard, still leaking, still angry at the denial.

you squirm once and feel it press against your stomach.

“…can i try?” you whisper, voice small but sure.

he stills.

“...try what, baby?”

you don’t look at him. “…taking you. at least a little.”

he goes quiet. one long beat. then another.

“you sure?” he asks finally—low, serious.

you nod. “i just… wanna see. i wanna try. i know it might not go all the way, but—”

“but you want to know how it feels,” he finishes for you, voice gentling. “you wanna feel us.”

you nod again.

he sighs like he’s aging a decade on the spot, but you catch the way his arms tighten around your waist—like he’s already imagining it.

“…we’re goin’ slow,” he warns.

“okay.”

“and the second it’s too much, you tell me.”

“okay.”

he looks at you for a moment—long and steady—like he’s memorizing the curve of your face.

then: “all right, sweetheart.”

you sit up.

and he leans back.

cock thick and flushed, resting against his stomach like it’s just waiting for you.

you swing a leg over, settling above him, shaky hands bracing on his chest.

“you’re gonna guide it,” he murmurs. “take your time.”

you reach down, wrap your hand around him again—he twitches in your grip—and you line him up to your entrance, already slick and fluttering and so ready.

your breath catches.

his hands come up to your hips.

“i got you,” he whispers. “don’t rush. just—go as far as you can handle, baby.”

you nod, eyes fluttering.

and slowly—so slowly—you start to sink.

the head presses in and it’s already a stretch.

you gasp.

“fuck, you’re tight,” he grits out. “jesus, you feel like a vice.”

you whimper. but don’t stop.

“an inch more, maybe,” he murmurs, watching your face. “that’s it.”

you exhale shakily.

but you want more.

your thighs tremble as you inch lower, one centimeter at a time, cunt pulling him in greedily even as your body resists.

“good girl,” he whispers, voice raw. “just like that. that’s it, sweetheart. you’re doin’ perfect.”

you make it about halfway before your body stalls and the pressure inside you starts to burn.

it’s too much.

but also—not enough.

you brace your hands on his chest, panting, thighs trembling, walls clutching him like you’re scared to let go.

“shit, baby,” he grits, hands hovering like he’s torn between helping you up or holding you down. “you—you can stop now. that’s already so much—”

you nod. you try.

you lift your hips—just barely—

but the friction is molten.

you gasp—then drop right back down with a helpless cry.

his groan punches out of him, ragged and low. your eyes fly to his.

wide. stunned. wrecked.

you grind again. shallow. experimental.

both of you moan.

“oh,” you whisper.

“fuck me,” he breathes. “do that again.”

you do.

rocking in slow, shaky circles—just halfway down, just where it feels good.

his fingers dig into your hips like anchors, his chest rising hard beneath your palms.

“jesus christ,” he mutters, voice wrecked. “you’re riding just the tip—”

“not the tip,” you pant, biting down on your lip. “i got halfway.”

he huffs a breathless laugh, brushing a hand through his hair as he looks at you—flushed, trembling, perfect.

“yeah, baby,” he says, voice rough. “you fuckin’ did. and you feel unreal.”

his hands slide lower—settling on your hips again, firm but steady. “slow it down a sec,” he murmurs, coaxing your movement into something smaller. “not just back and forth—try…rollin’ your hips. yeah, like that.”

you follow his guidance, circling your hips slowly, shallowly, and your breath stutters out at the way it drags him inside you.

“feel that?” he asks—low, careful, watching your face. “better?”

you nod, a little dazed. “s’good,” you whisper. “i—i didn’t know it could feel like this…”

“mm,” he hums, guiding you through another slow grind. “it’s different for everyone. different positions, different angles. but this—this one’s good for you, huh?”

“yeah,” you breathe. “yeah, it’s—fuck, schlatt—”

his eyes flutter shut for a second, like he’s trying to hold himself together. “legs okay?” he murmurs. “you need a break?”

they’re shaking, but not in pain. you shift a little and shake your head a bit, side to side. “just tired.”

you whimper. your head tips back, mouth falling open, cunt fluttering around him with every slow drag of your hips.

“can’t think, can you?” he murmurs, voice a gravelly purr. “too full to think. you like bein’ dumb on my cock, sweetheart?”

you nod. frantic this time. you do.

he chuckles—hoarse, wrecked.

“you’re so fuckin’ tight like this,” he groans. “fuck—every time you move, i feel your pussy pulling at me.”

you try to answer, but it comes out a whine.

“drunk on it already?” he teases, and his hand slides down—rubbing slow circles over your clit. “and i’m not even all the way in.”

that makes your whole body twitch. you bite your lip. squirm a little.

“i—maybe i can—”

“no,” he says gently, pressing his thumb a little firmer. “you don’t have to, baby. half’s already fuckin’ killin’ me.”

but it’s too late.

your body’s greedy.

you grind down again—slow, thoughtless, dizzy—and your hips roll just right, angling perfectly, and suddenly you slip.

lower.

deeper.

your eyes snap open.

he gasps—loud, choked, shocked.

you freeze.

and the second he’s all the way in—buried to the base—you scream.

not loud, but ragged. guttural. like the air’s been punched from your lungs and replaced with heat and pressure and the overwhelming stretch of being full.

you’re shaking. writhing. every nerve ending flaring at once. your hands claw at his chest. you can’t breathe. can’t think.

“oh my fuck, baby—” schlatt grits out, voice wrecked, hands flying to your hips like he’s trying to steady himself before he loses all control.

your body clenches around him on instinct—so tight, so wet, so goddamn full of him it’s like your body doesn’t know whether to panic or come.

“i didn’t mean to—” you gasp, tears in your eyes, head spinning. “i just—it just slipped—”

“i know, i know,” he breathes, voice wild, thumb brushing your hip like it might calm you down—even as his grip twitches, even as every muscle in his body begs him to move.

but he doesn’t.

not yet.

because when he looks down—it’s right there.

the base of his cock flushed dark, your folds swollen and stretched taut around him, a slick, shiny ring where your body’s clinging like it doesn’t want to let him go. like you were built for this.

he groans, deep and guttural. “jesus christ.”

you blink down at him, dazed. “what?”

“look at this,” he mutters, dragging his eyes down to where your bodies are still locked. “look at this. you’re fuckin’ made for me.”

his hand slides between your thighs—spreads you open just enough that you both get a better view.

your breath stutters.

because fuck, it’s obscene.

the size difference, the way he fills you, how swollen and stretched and stuffed you are—it’s so much. too much.

and still, your cunt clenches around him again like it wants more.

he grabs your hips—rough now, greedy—and starts grinding into you, slow but deep, like he wants to feel every inch of your walls wrapped around him, stretching, clenching, taking.

“oh, my fuck, baby—” he hisses, watching where he disappears inside you. “it fits. it fits. i can feel your cunt choking on it. look at how tight you are—look at how deep i am—fuck—”

he laughs under his breath. wrecked.

your hips twitch at his words.

you’re still panting. flushed and sensitive and wide-eyed. “i didn’t mean to take all of it—i just—i wanted more—”

“i know,” he says again, gentler now. “but all of me? on your first time?”

his head drops. his forehead rests against yours.

“fuck, you’re unreal.”

then he pulls back just an inch—slow, cautious, like he’s testing the water—and your body on top of his.

his jaw clenches. his hands twitch against your hips like he's holding back something barely contained. he drops his forehead against yours again—like he’s trying to ground himself in your skin instead of the way you feel wrapped around him.

you whimper softly, body twitching with aftershocks, and that’s when he really looks at you.

eyes wild.

lips parted.

hair a mess.

his gaze drops between your bodies—where he’s still buried, where he can feel you throbbing around him, leaking down his length—and something shifts.

he exhales.

rough. shaky. dangerous.

like he’s one wrong move from losing control all over again.

“baby—” he murmurs, voice low and fraying. “i need to—”

he cuts himself off. swallows. you watch his jaw clench.

then softer, almost pleading:

“can i take over?”

you blink up at him, dazed and glowing, still fogged with the kind of high that leaves your soul floating.

“…please,” you whisper.

“fuck yes,” he growls—and then you’re weightless.

in one swift movement, he slips out and flips you onto your back, spreading your legs with zero hesitation. the air hits your slick skin and you shiver—but he’s already there, lining himself up, kissing your knee like it’s the last gentle thing he’s got in him.

and then—

he thrusts in again. deep. hard.

the new angle makes you see stars.

his piercing brushes right there—a heavy, deliberate drag against your cervix that makes you gasp, body seizing up around him.

“there it is,” he growls, watching your face twist with pleasure-shock. “you feel that, baby? you feel me all the way up there?”

you can’t answer. your mouth is open, soundless, tears pricking at your lashes from the intensity.

he grabs your thighs, spreading you wider, pulling you down onto him like he’s got something to prove.

like he’s trying to brand you from the inside out.

“fuck—this pussy—i knew it was good, but goddamn.”

you sob out something close to his name, and he loses it.

he leans over you, caging you in with his forearms, his hips slamming into yours with loud, wet slaps that echo off the room.

“taking me so fuckin’ good,” he pants, voice right in your ear. “letting me ruin you, sweetheart. letting me fuck you dumb on your first time.”

“say it,” he demands again, voice shredded. “say it’s mine.”

and then—without thinking, without breathing, without even realizing what you’re about to say—

you choke out:

“it's already yours.”

his whole body jerks.

he stills—deep inside you, cock twitching, throbbing, fighting for control he doesn’t have.

his eyes snap open. meet yours.

and something in both of you just breaks.

the tension snaps like a wire under pressure—and you both come together.

you sob. your body locks around him. your vision goes white at the edges.

he groans—deep, animal, like he’s never felt anything like this before—and spills inside you, hips grinding down to push every drop as far in as it’ll go.

neither of you move. not at first.

just panting. shaking. stunned.

and then, slowly—so slowly—he pulls back just enough to watch it happen.

his cock slips out, wet and swollen and trembling, and a thick string of cum follows, dripping out of you in slow, obscene globs.

he watches it—entranced. then looks at you again. hair wild. eyes glassy. body still trembling with aftershocks.

he exhales, rough and ragged, like he’s trying to catch up with himself.

“shit,” he mutters. “okay. hang on, baby.”

he moves fast—but gentle. stands, tucks himself back into his boxers with one hand, and disappears down the hallway. you blink, dazed, and only just register the sound of running water.

when he returns, he’s got a warm, damp washcloth. his brows are drawn, focused—his expression all quiet care and no teasing for once.

“lift your hips for me, sweetheart,” he murmurs, kneeling beside you again.

you do. barely.

he takes over—one hand cradling your thigh, the other so gentle as he wipes between your legs. cleaning you. soothing you. making sure you’re okay.

“think i might’ve overdone it, huh?” he murmurs. “first time and i go feral like a fuckin’ animal…”

you shake your head, still hazy. “was perfect.”

he exhales—almost a laugh, almost a sigh—and kisses your knee.

“lift your arms,” he says next, reaching behind for the throw blanket. “we’re not sleeping on the couch. not after what we just did to it.”

you comply, sluggish and boneless. he bundles you up in the blanket like a little caterpillar in a cocoon, one arm wrapping under your legs, the other steady at your back.

“jesus christ,” he mutters, grinning to himself as he picks you up. “third date and i’ve already fucked up your ability to walk. great impression, schlatt.”

“you’re doing amazing,” you mumble into his neck, eyes heavy, lips smiling.

his condo’s quiet except for the shuffle of his steps, low muttering as he opens the door to his bedroom with his shoulder. it’s clean—cool gray sheets, big comforter, scuffed dresser with tiny tower of hats, an empty glass on the nightstand, his cologne still hanging in the air.

he sets you on the edge of the bed, then disappears into the closet.

“don’t even think about crashing in that dress,” he calls, rummaging.

you blink, foggy. “but it's...pretty comfy.”

“it’s not sleepwear, toots. catch.”

he tosses a shirt—soft, black, oversized. you tug it on with wobbly arms, his shirt swallowing your frame, no panties in sight, letting it fall down past your thighs. schlatt turns back around once you’re changed, holding out a water bottle and two pills.

“advil,” he says. “preventative. i know it’s gonna hit you in the morning.”

you swallow them, obedient, and let him help you into bed. the mattress is warm from the sheets, and you sink in immediately.

he joins you a beat later—still in his sweats, shirt rucked up slightly—and pulls the blanket over both of you. his arm slides around your waist. his other hand rests over your stomach, fingers grazing against your skin, almost tickling you.

his voice is quieter now. lower. honest.

“…you okay?”

you nod into his shoulder. “mhm.”

“wasn’t too much?”

“you asked. every time.”

a pause. then, softly:

“i’m really glad it was you.”

his fingers flex against your side. he presses a kiss to your temple.

“i know it’s only been three dates,” he murmurs, “but i really fucking like you.”

your breath catches. you tilt your head to meet his eyes.

they’re softer than you’ve ever seen them. tired. awed.

“i wanna be your boyfriend,” he says simply. “if you’ll have me.”

your chest swells. you smile.

“yeah,” you whisper. “i want that. i'd really, really like that.”

he exhales like he’s been holding it in for hours. “jesus. okay. okay, good.” he buries his face in your hair, arms tightening around you. “best third date i’ve ever had.”

you huff a sleepy laugh. “me too.”

the rest of the night settles around you in warmth and softness and the steady thump of his heartbeat, echoing against your back.

[harukyuu2]

hello!! May I request a fic about wind breaker (including Togame jo) scenario when they "accidentally" walk in on you while you're changing? Thank you!!!!!!!!

-‘๑’-⇢ ˗ˏˋ Woah! Sorryyy! - wbk boys seeing you change:࿐ྂ-‘๑’- !! - Haruka, Suo, Togame and Endo !! (Endo's part is pretty suggestive, implied fem!reader in some cases, small revision only :p)

"Hey, where do you have your... FUCK, DAMN—" ♡ Boy smashed your door closed without even saying sorry, too much embarassment— he cant handle it! You didnt even notice him until he smashed the door, it was like a split second interaction! ♡ You never saw him SOOO red, like— he always blushes! But today?? You can almost see smoke coming out of his head, his red has the saturation on a 100% ♡ His brain isnt working, he cant even form a sentence to you or even look you in the eyes, he feels like he's gonna explode if he does. ♡ If he didnt run out of your house by now, you can reassure him its fine, but youre gonna get embarassed mumbles until he's actually able to think without that image in his head. ♡ At the end of the day, with a looot and i mean A LOT of reassureance and patience for his blush to go down, you'll get your usual nervous boyfriend again, maybe even an apology! ♡ Still, that image of you stayed in his head for more time than necessary— and he probably felt guilty, but also youre too pretty in his eyes! He isnt sure how he got you still.

"...You know im— im sorry or whatever for...fuck, you know! not knocking or somethin'...whatever, damn—"

"Sweetie, are you ready to left alrea— Oh. Sorry!" ♡ He's actually SO CALM, he stands like "🧍‍♂️" checking on you a quick second before leaving politely, you cant even hear him walking, the only sound in the room is his apology AND THATS IT. ♡ Tbh, its surprising you catched him in a situation like that. Suo, as a boyfriend, know everything you need or what youre doing, or what youre about to do...His mind is literally connected to yours— so him thinking you were ready and it was wrong? First time you caught him out of guard. ♡ He stares at you. More than he usually does. You could catch him staring at you and he wouldnt look away! His eyes are literally glued to you (They were already, but now more than always) ♡ Now, Suo can be mature— like reaally mature, but still he's a teenager! So he feels a little embarassed, he's just good at hidding it. Not lying, the image doesnt leave his mind and he feels really inmature for it! ♡ He doesnt know how to bring the topic without making you uncomfortable, but he needs to. So, at night, when youre about to fall asleep, pretty dozed off from reality, he finally turns to cup your cheek and sweetly murmurs— whether you remember it or not, well... he's just going to play it silly in the morning.

"That color and laces looked good on you, darling. Sweet dreams, sorry for not knocking."

"Babe, take your time, but just so you dont scold me later, fireworks start at— ...uh, sorry. Uhh, that color looks good on you! I mean, sheesh, alright— im leaving, im leaving..." ♡ SLOW ASS TURTLE. Talks with you without noticing youre changing. Another man who just stands like "🧍‍♂️" while looking at you for a whole ten seconds and he tries to fix it with compliments just for you to have to push him outside of the bedroom ♡ He hums outside of your room, wondering if he made you uncomfortable or something, relationships are something new for him too— so he has zero idea how to handle this situation at first. ♡ He wont lie that he finded you pretty, thats a normal thing! Well, he guesses...so he wont see complimenting you on it as a bad a thing, but he does understand that not knocking was wrong (and not moving quickly too) ♡ Being on his side was silent for a moment before he leaved a sigh, scratched his neck before ruffling your hair and apologized in a cute way— he learned to talk a lot better after his fight with Haruka and always expresses himself honestly with you.

"'m sorry im just saying this now, i should had knocked...anyways, you looked pretty though...i mean it! You know i love you, right?"

"Babyyyy...Hurry up so we can go on a walk already! do you want to— DAAAMNN, that one looks good on you! is that the one i gived you money to buy? i should buy you another, but in blue and— Dont push meeee...!" ♡ Clingy, whining, sassy ASSSS...He wont leave that room until you try to push him like a good damn minute. Worst of all? While you push him out of the bedroom, he would make sassy remarks of other colors you could try that would look better with a damn big grin in his face. ♡ Apologizing? Nah, he's more into the old good "teasing my girlfriend until she feels the urge to beat me!!", íf you two went to the shopping...yeah, probably points out a store that sells them only to annoy you more. ♡ Follows you around even if youre mad or something, complimenting you on the way and even if he feels playful,(Literally everyday) will squeeze your waist just to scare you and finally get your attention directed to his face. ♡ Once you two are back to your house, he's teasingly tracing the contour of your bra through your shirt, holding you close and not letting his eyes fall from yours, he tempts you through them only to finally squeeze you into an hug since he's a romantic one, of course..!

"Im not going to apologize for finding you pretty, babe. Were not in a backwards world, arent we? So stop frowning and i'll spoil you in more gifts!"

I got confused and i made headcanons D: But i'll probably make a scenario for Togame if you rlly want it !!

[grim-reapers-wife]

Can I request a Bakugou x reader where the reader is Kirishima’s younger sister. Kirishima has made it super clear that you’re off limits to all his friends, but Bakugou can’t help himself from falling in love with you (and maybe thinking of you when he touches himself in the middle of the night…) Thanks!

____________________________________________ 🖤🧡🖤🧡🖤🧡🖤🧡🖤🧡🖤🧡🖤🧡🖤🧡🖤

Little sister (Bakugou x fem reader)

Summary: Bakugou has the biggest crush on Kiri’s little sister. But she’s totally off limits.

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Bakugous POV:

I’m sitting in Shitty hair’s living room scrolling on my phone waiting for him to get his gym stuff together.

I wish he’d had his shit together already. I’m dressed and ready; gym shorts and a black shirt, with everything I need in my gym bag.

I hear footsteps coming from the stairs and I look up thinking it’s Shitty hair.

“Bout time-” Woah.

“Oh! Hey Katsuki.” It’s Kirishima’s little sister in the smallest shorts known to mankind.

For as long as I’ve known Kirishima, I’ve known that his little sister is off the table.

“Hey, how you doin’?”

She’s younger than me and shitty hair, but god she doesn’t let that stop her.

She’s definitely smarter than him. Prettier too.

“I’m good, you going to the gym?” She nods to my outfit and bag.

“Yeah just waiting on shitty hair.” I say gruffly

She giggles and it’s music to my ears. I scowl at the floor to hide my blush.

“I’ve been thinking about going, you think you could teach me a couple things?”

Boy could I. “Uh-“

“Hey man, you ready?” Shitty hair asks while coming down the stairs.

He narrows his eyes at me and his sister, looking between us like I’ve done something.

“Yeah man, I’m ready.” We walk to the front door and I look behind me.

“Bye.”

I hear her quiet voice just before the click of the door.

Shitty hair zeros his eyes in on me. “She’s off limits. To every one of my friends. She’s the only thing I don’t play about, man. You know this.”

I shrug it off. “Yeah man, I know.”

“Good."

____________________________________________

I get home after the gym with shitty hair. God I could not focus after our talk. I hear them in my head while I turn the shower on.

"She's off limits."

"You think you could teach me a couple things?"

I step in and run my hands through my hair. God what am I thinking? Her in those tiny sleep shorts, thinking about her in the gym squatting with me spotting her from behind.

I let the water run over my face to calm myself.

I know I'm hard just thinking about her. She's gorgeous and she keeps up with me and Shitty hair.

I wrap my hand around my cock and give it a few slow pumps.

She smells like heaven, sometimes I can smell her ambrosial sent on Shitty hair.

Her body is perfect, perfect in every way.

I lazily stroke myself.

This is wrong. This is against the bro code, it has to be; but god the thought of her.

I move my hand faster, putting the other on the shower wall to hold myself.

An image of her naked and underneath me flashes through my mind.

"Fuck." I feel my hot release on my hand.

I close my eyes and imagine her once more before I finish showering.

____________________________________________

I finish my shower and towel dry my hair. I throw on a pair of sweats and grab a book before laying in bed.

Just as I'm about to start reading I hear the ping of my phone.

From: Beautiful girl 💕 9:03pm Hey, are you awake?

My face scrunches up in confusion. Why is she texting me?

To: Beautiful girl 💕 9:04pm Yeah. What's up?

From: Beautiful girl 💕 9:04pm Would you maybe take me to the gym? I really wanna go but I know nothing.

I think about it for a minute. I want nothing more then to be in her presence.

To: Beautiful girl 💕 9:06pm Shitty hair might not like that, beautiful.

From: Beautiful girl 💕 9:08pm We don't have to tell him...

I smirk and shake my head. I type two words.

To: Beautiful girl 💕 9:09pm I'm in.

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Notes: Thank you so much for the request. I think this should have a follow up of some sorts. Lmk what yall think!

Maybe we should get a snippet of them at the gym. 💪

Or Kirishima spotting then on a date. 🫣

[prosypepper]

hi mootie, here’s a good morning forehead smooch 💋

i’m looking for a f!plus size x toji fic 🥀 my obsession with his grimy ass has came back ten fold.

maybe something along the lines of being his ‘bestie’ (let’s be so fr this man has NO friends.) and he invites u to the beach so he doesn’t have to go with just shiu or sum like that…

sees u in a revealing swimsuit n goes bonkers. OR MAYBE kinda like a comfort bc reader doesn’t feel good in the suit…

even if u choose not to write this it still felt great to get out of my system, ily pls don’t go bald mwah

BABE MY LOVE I WAS SO HAPPY TO SEE U BACK ON THE DASH!!! I MISSED YOUUUUUUU!!!!! also i have some thoughts………ur so smart.

a/n: smut, comfort of insecurities, plus size fem reader, this is lowkey SO BAD and im so sorry but i wanted to do this for u 🫶🫶🫶 18+ mdni!

“where have you been hiding that?”

toji whistles when you walk out of the bathroom you’d been forced to share for the weekend, sleazy grin on his face from where he’s sitting on the bed.

“you’ve seen me naked like four times,” you retort, climbing onto the bed beside him to rummage through your bag of clothes, “also i’m changing. i look disgusting.”

toji’s taken aback by your statement, utterly dumbfounded at a pretty thing like you saying such harsh things about herself. he’d never denied how attractive he thought you were, always flirting and riling you up when he had the chance. hell, you guys had even fucked before, albeit on all sorts of drugs, but now?

toji thought you looked better sober. you’re the first girl he’d ever thought that about, too, even if he wouldn’t admit it.

“disgusting?” he repeats after you, word tweaking into a question.

“yes, disgusting. gross, ugly, nasty, whatever. i hate this stupid bikini but i didn’t have the cash to buy a new one,” you complain, still angrily shoving through your bag and getting angrier when you didn’t find anything to cover up with.

“babydoll,” toji coos, smoothing a hand over your back, “what makes you say that?” toji’s voice is dropped lower, concerned, almost. it was so unlike you to say such a thing. toji didn’t care for many people, but you’d been there for him in the most trying of times, there was no way he’d let you think that about yourself.

especially when he was about to lose it at just the sight of you.

“i just..” you sigh, slumping your shoulders, “i don’t know. i just feel so gross now, like nothing looks good on me and i just feel so ugly. like i’m surprised you’re not embarrassed to be seen with me—.”

“woah, slow down,” he interrupts, taking a breath to collect his thoughts, keeping the soothing hand on your back. “you’re.. damn gorgeous, y’know that. i tell you all the time.”

“yeah but that’s different, we’re friends, plus we only had sex when you were drunk or whatever so obviously you have to be in an altered state to wanna—,”

“stop.”

you’re shut up immediately, looking at toji confused, because why did he care so much? the both of you hold eye contact before toji’s eyes flicker down, causing you to do the same—down his chest and torso, right to the tent in his swim trunks.

“toji!” you laugh, shoving his chest—and toji just grins. cocky.

“that’s all you, babe.”

“you’re so gross.”

“show me how gross you think i am.”

“toji!”

“yeah, baby, scream my name just like that.”

there’s barely room for you to get any words out with the way toji’s stretching you out on the counter of the bathroom. you’re teetering on the edge of the marble, the only thing holding you up are toji’s arms and the desperate grip you have around his neck.

fifteen minutes ago you were complaining about your looks.. and now, he won’t even give you the chance to complain. your bikini bottoms are pulled to the side and the top is resting below your tits, showing all of you off to him.

you’re beautiful like this.

“so fuckin’ pretty,” toji mumbles, looking down at your blissed expression—eyes glued shut, eyebrows knitted together, mouth dropping open and closing with miniscule whimpers. “hold on tight, doll.”

without much warning, toji picks you up with one motion, holding your legs around him with strong hands. a slew of words come out as you try to tell him he’s going to drop you—but you never hit the floor. he’s still for a moment as he slides himself allll the way in, practically stabbing your cervix, you’re sure.

“fucking—pleaseplease, wait,” you babble, not used to the stretch of toji’s cock inside of you, “too much—it’s, mmph—toji.”

“too much, gorgeous?” he chuckles, cute name slipping off his tongue naturally, laughing more when you nod quickly. yet he does anything but pause, bouncing you up and down on his length like you’re weightless.

“sorry, pretty. can’t help myself.”

[cuteandhughesy]

auston matthews -

“you’re such a loser”.

“you’re so pretty it pains me” (said to him).

“keep still you little… troll”.

please & thank you. love your work. :)

Drunk In Love ╰┈➤ AM34

summary: your boyfriend has to pick you up from a bar—only to find that you’re sloshed and feeling playful. prompt no. 15: “you’re so pretty it pains me” + prompt no. 28: “keep still you little…troll.”

[word count] 2.1k

warnings: drinking | drunk behaviour | suggestive dialogue

a/n: how is this my first auston work…this man was the reason I started watching hockey in 2016! i’m back to my roots with this one! also this ain’t super detailed because I don’t have the brain capacity for that 😛

🎵 drunk in love by beyoncé & jay-z

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auston is immediately bombarded when he steps into the club. not only by the overwhelming smell of hard liquor and various sweet floral perfumes, but by jennifer—your red head bubbly best friend who's celebrating her 27th birthday.

he blinks in surprise as jennifer steps in front of him, freckles still visible even under the flashing lights. "i'm sorry," she hisses, looking over her shoulder at what auston can only presume is you, "but she's sloshed." and that confirms his suspicions.

about 20 minutes ago, he answered jennifer's call. he was expecting the worse—you've always been a naturally clumsy person when drinking, and anytime you go out partying with your friends, you're coming home with more scrapes and bruises than you can count. all jennifer really told auston was that you needed a ride home asap, being very vague about the entire situation.

auston put two and two together pretty quickly.

"it's alright," he says, eyes squinting through the dark atmosphere in search of you and the sparkly red top you left the condo in. you're easy to spot, only because you're standing on top of the bar like you're in some cheesy rom com movie, laughing loudly and dancing while everyone cheers you on.

jennifer smiles awkwardly, green eyes darting between you and your less than amused looking boyfriend. auston curses, moving through the sea of bodies until he's at the crowded bar. he gently wraps his hand around you thigh, not hard, but still firm enough to grab your attention.

you look down, and immediately you're beaming at the sight of him. "austonnnnnn," you slur his name loudly, reaching down to steady yourself on his shoulders as he helps you off the table top. as soon as your heels are back on soild ground, you're jumping into auston’s arms—not without almost missing him and falling to the floor if it wasn't for auston's reflexes.

"woah, slow down," he warns lightly, large hands a warm and steady presence on your hips as he steadies you. "hi baby." auston grins slightly, eyes barley visible under the rim of his ball cap. a hiding feature he chose on purpose—auston wasn't really in the mood to wake up tomorrow morning and read a bunch of news tabloids about him picking up his hammered girlfriend at a local toronto club.

"hi." you grin, blinking slowly. auston can feel your heat through hour top-your skin hot to the touch, the affect off one too many shots. the hair you'd previously slicked back into a pony tail is now frizzy and down—eyes glassy and not all there.

auston snickers, already moving you away from the table and back to the direction of the entrance. "are you drunk?" he teases knowingly.

"pssshhh...no!" you decline loudly, shaking your head—but the way you misstep tells a whole different story. you don't even notice that though, too busy looking at your boyfriend with an imaginary lightbulb flickering above your head, "have you come to take a shot with me?" you ask, your excitement obvious.

auston hums, "no, i'm here to bring you home."

"but im not ready to go home," you pout.

"I know, but you can come out next weekend."

his words seem to do the trick, because your face relaxes and your lips form into a lazy grin. "oh yeah," you say matter of factly like it was you who came up with the idea.

"do you have your bag?" auston asks before the both of you can step outside, "where's your phone?"

your small chain bag is slung over your shoulder—which, thank god, because auston did not want to have to search for it in the women's bathroom or under the sticky tables. "my phones under my boob," you say.

he reaches out, fingers sliding under your boob to make sure it is in fact in your top.

it makes you giggle, arching into his touch, completely oblivious. "trying to cop a feel?," you slur, way too loudly for a public space. "you freak."

auston can't help the breathy laugh that leaves him, pulling off your body once he has confirmation that your phone is sitting between your ribs and left boob. "just making sure you've got everything," he corrects your insinuation lightly, wrapping his hand back around your hips. "okay, let's go."

the cold air is a shock after spending time inside the overpacked and overheated club. you instinctively curl into his side, seeking some warmth—no matter how drunk you are, you'll always find a way to get chilled.

as soon as his car is in your line of sight, you gasp, mumbling something incoherent before attempting to run towards the vehicle. you obviously don't get far, not with auston's arm holding you upright, but that doesn't stop you from stumbling on uneven sidewalk—almost sending you to your knees.

it has you giggling but also somehow gasping dramatically all at the same time.

"careful." auston chimes firmly, digging in his back pocket for his keys to unlock the car.

"woah that was scary," you snort, looking up at him with those glassed over eyes he loves. "did you almost trip too?" you ask, dead serious.

auston opens the passenger door, "almost."

"that wouldn't of been good," you slur.

"no, it wouldn't of been." he agrees easily, guiding you into the vehicle, "okay, left foot first babe."

but you're not going that easily. you turn to your boyfriend again, face flashing in fucking betrayal like he just asked you to root for the bruins. "you haven't even kissed me yet," you whine, feet planted on the concrete while your butt connects with the car seat.

he sighs, "let's get in the car first."

"please?" you slur, leaning forward dangerously. auston grips your biceps before you can face plant to the ground, but you're completely oblivious, continuing to beg in a mixture of babbling and slurring, "you're so pretty it pains me! and I need a kiss to make me feel better."

auston takes a deep breath, staring down at you for a beat—seeing if you'll give up. but you don't, continuing to look up at him like he hung the moon and the stars, lips slightly pouted and stained as you wait rather patiently. he sighs again before leaning down and giving you a quick peck.

you beam when be pulls away, bringing your left foot into the car. "you love me," you hum dreamily.

"yeah I do," auston smiles, guiding your right leg inside the car before he leans over your body, clicking the seat belt into place.

you kiss the side of his face sloppily as he makes sure you're buckled, "I love you too."

the 15 minute drive back to your and auston's shared condo is filled with the sound of your voice, singing along to random radio songs in an impromptu karaoke session. anytime you look over at auston and see that he's not singing, you squawk loudly, poking his cheek persistently until he joins in.

thankfully you don't give him too much trouble getting back out of the car, or on the elevator ride up to your floor—the most you do is stumble and talk too loudly, but auston finds it rather funny. you resemble a baby deer, and when he tells you that, you start tearing up about how cute baby animals are.

felix, your shared dog, eyes you both grumpily from his spot on the couch as you pass, clearly upset at be woken up.

auston guides you into the bedroom, helping you kick your heels off while you continue crying, now specifically praising baby horses and their tiny little horse shoes.

he grabs your oversized pyjama shirt, which is actually one of his old men's league shirts that you'd stolen years ago when you first met. auston turns back to you, placing the shirt beside you on the bed. "okay," he starts, "arms up baby."

"why?"

"because you need to get changed," auston says.

you whine, muttering something about feeling tired. regardless you lift your arms, limbs all floppy and heavy as auston attempts taking your sparkly top off.

you wiggle and squirm, laughing as auston's calloused fingers graze against the side of your ribs. your movement makes him sigh, teetering on impatient. "stay still you little...troll."

that gets you to stop moving. "hey! that's mean." you pout incredulously.

"it's not," auston answers easily, pulling your shirt fully off. now free, your phone falls to your lap with a plop. "trolls are cute"

you arms drop to your sides quickly, "no they're not."

"shhh," he teases, pulling off your skirt and tights in one quick and efficient move. "you'll hurt their feelings."

"my boobs are out," you say after a beat.

auston snickers, pushing your head through the stretched neck hole of his old shirt. yeah, they are," he hums, moving to your arm and bending it at the elbow, “hey, put your arms through the holes."

"nooooo," you whine, falling forward to auston’s chest and wrapping your sticky arms loosely around his neck. "I wanna give you a kiss." you mumble, already in the middle of covering his scruff covered jawline in tequila scented kisses. one of your hands sneaks down his body, and before he can even blink, your grabbing his dick.

"jesus baby," his breathe hitches, pulling your hand off his length and putting it back in your lap.

you giggle, "you like that?"

auston shakes his head, putting your arms through the shirt holes before you can grab his dick again. "not tonight, you need to go to sleep."

your face falls. "you don't want me?"

"not when you're drunk."

you scoff, tears pricking your waterline as auston fully pulls the shirt down over your naked body. "you hate me." you state dramatically, arms crossing over your chest.

"not at all," he reassures you softly.

"but you don't want me."

"you're drunk." auston reiterates, which only makes you hum. he can't help the smile that pulls on his face, shaking his head in disbelief at your slurred words and usual drunk shenanigans. "okay baby, let's get you in bed."

the next two minutes are silent as your boyfriend helps you slip under the covers. you sigh happily as the cool sheets envelop around your limbs, head sinking into the fluffy pillow like you're lying on a cloud. auston leaves your lamp on, putting your phone on the beside table—making sure it's plugged in for the morning—before he turns to leave.

but just as his hand touches the door knob, you're whining. "austonnnnnn."

"yes?" he asks, brow quirked.

you make grabby hands at him like a toddler. "come lay with me."

"i'm going to," auston says, "I just gotta take felix out first."

the mention of your dog has you sitting straight up, once again wide awake. auston can't help the way he sighs, falling back against your bedroom door in what feels like defeat.

"can I come?" you ask him, voice full of hope and joy at the thought of running your hands through felix's soft and curly coat. you’ve never wanted to cuddle him more than this very moment.

auston shakes his head gently, "no."

"whyyy?" you whine, lips pouting for the hundredth time tonight. "I love him so much." you admit, voice thickening with emotion as you blink at your boyfriend through the warmly lit bedroom.

he walks back towards you, softly pushing your hair off your face. "I know you do," auston mumbles, thumb stroking your brow bone. "but you're not wearing pants and it's cold outside."

you frown deepens, a single shiny tear falling from your eye and tracing down the round of your cheek. "but," you pause, sniffling gently, "felix will think I don't love him if I don't come."

auston shakes his head, "that's not true." but you only cry more, shrinking in on yourself as sobs wrack through your body. auston coos, pressing a firm kiss to your forehead and then another to your cheek.

even drunk, you don't play about your love for felix.

"how about when I get back I bring him in here for the night?" auston proposes sweetly.

your head lifts, and the sight of your watery eyes have auston pouting. "really?"

"yeah."

and he fully intends on keeping his promise, but 30 minutes later—once the dog has done his business and trotted around the condos front grass—auston opens the bedroom door, only to find you sound asleep.

[luveline]

I love anything strangers to lovers with James, something with him maybe coming to a muggle pub with the guys and coming over to talk to you, trying to be all suave but entirely relying on everything muggle studies has taught him and like mixing weird things up but he’s still so endearing you kinda don’t care

ty for requesting❤️

James is holding Remus’ hand when he sees you. They’re being touchy and weird because there’s nobody around to see it but strangers, aware that it’s a little too touchy but uncaring. The drinks they’ve had makes it less overly friendly and more this man is my best friend in the whole world. 

He sees you and abruptly drops Remus’ hand. 

“James,” Remus says, pulling his hand back. 

“Sorry, but– but look!” He gestures to you, leaning down as though this might stop you seeing him before he’s ready. 

You’re really something. In a group of friends two tables and what looks like fifteen chairs, too many bodies, you’re hanging back with your glass held to your chest, giggling at someone’s loud joke. You’re so pretty James feels it in his chest, like woah! Like, he has to talk to you. Maybe it’s the way you’re smiling as you laugh, he loves it. 

The longer he looks, the more convinced he becomes. 

“What are we looking at?” Sirius asks, back at the table with a new drink. 

Remus quickly takes it. “It’s who are we looking at,” he corrects. “There’s a girl over there James likes the look of.” 

“She’s gorgeous. I’m going.” 

Neither friend tries to stop him. James isn’t drunk nor stupid, and he’s not a bad flirt. Not that every girl he tries to talk to wants to talk back, but he isn’t disrespectful or grim. 

He tries not to overthink it. 

“Hi, ladies,” he says, directing his hello to your little gaggle off the main group. You sit between two other women, all smiling politely as he speaks up. “What are you guys doing out tonight?” 

“It’s my birthday,” you say. 

“It is?” he asks, surprised. “Happy birthday! You aren’t wearing a badge?” 

“It’ll poke holes in my shirt.” 

He nods solemnly. “Well, never mind it. Are you having a good night?” 

“I would be, if the person feeding the jukebox would stop playing Bee Gee’s,” you say. 

Feeding the jukebox, James repeats in his head. He looks around for some sort of animal but doesn’t find one, nor does he spot any games of Bee Gee’s. “People are terrible pet owners these days,” he says. 

You laugh like a riot, so he must’ve said something right. “Only an animal would play disco!” you agree, standing up suddenly. “I need another drink. Are you coming with me, or did you fancy someone else?” 

James grins. “I’m coming with you, please.” 

He sees the little twitch on your smile that shows you’re pleased; you aren’t as confident as you’re trying to appear, and your question had been a brave one. James will try to reward your courage. 

“Do you come here often?” he asks, following you through tight tables and down a step to the bar. 

“Only on birthdays.” You grin as he shields you from a passerby. “What about you?” 

“Here? Never in my life! It’s quaint though, I love the taps and the posters and the pork scratchings!”

“They don’t have pork scratchings at home? Where are you from?” 

He shrugs. “Somewhere awful. They don’t have birthday girls half as pretty as you are back there. Did you get anything nice for your struggle?” 

“What, the struggle of getting older?” You lift your chin. “Do I look like I’ve struggled? In ageing?” 

“You look like you’ve been deprived of a drink. What’s your favourite?” 

“Can you guess?” 

James slows with you, just shy of the bar. What a peculiar thing to ask. Maybe muggles play this game, maybe this is a flirting ritual. James chooses the prettiest drink for a nice looking girl. “A French seventy five,” he suggests. 

“What’s that?” 

“Gin and champagne, mostly.” 

“I don’t know about that one.” 

James grins. “A cherry spritzer, then. Ice, a little sugar, cherries on the rim. You look like you like cherries.” 

James buys you a cherry spritzer with extra cherries —it’s your birthday. You say thank you twice and sip it at the bar as he nurses a cold dark thatchers, your elbows touching. James briefly notes how you compliment one another in the mirror above the wines. He tries to catch your eye in it, but gets distracted when the TV box above it changes colour. 

“Do you watch the football?” you ask, noticing his gaze. 

“Oh, yeah. Love football. Weird shape for a ball, but. Do you like it?” 

You take a second to answer, “Well, what about rugby?” 

He’s more familiar with rugby, they talked a great deal about it in muggle studies. “I love rugby! All the scrums and scrimmages.”

“Do you play?” 

“Um, no.” 

“Well, you must play something.” 

“Are you flirting with me?” he jokes. 

“You look active!” 

“What do you like?” he asks, happy to change the subject and learn more about you at the same time. 

“I like lots of stuff, mostly books. Oh, I like karaoke,” you say. “I’m not very good.” 

James knows what karaoke is. “I bet you are. It’s about patience, right? Filling in all those little boxes. I can’t get behind the numbers part, I’m terrible at arithmetic.” 

You look at him like he’s grown two heads. You don’t mean to, he can tell, because your expression immediately clouds with guilt, and then something kinder. He likes fondness on you, and he loves for it to be directed at him. 

“I’m terrible at maths, too,” you say, smiling, nearly shy. “Do you want to get a table with me?”

“Did I say something wrong, before?” 

“No, I don’t think so.” 

It’s much later with his hand behind your neck when he realises the numbers game is sudoku, not karaoke. He laughs against your open mouth. You ask him what’s so funny, but the warmth of your breath on his lips has him forgetting.

(James was a tad weird, you think that night, his phone number on the back of one of your birthday cards and your lips still fizzing, but he’d been earnest even in kissing, and for that you can’t complain.)