#They best kiss before the end of the show

[ari-ana-bel-la]

Could you write a Dad!oscar where baby piastri insists on “driving” like her dad. Maybe she takes over his simulator at home, and he sets up a little toy car for her in the paddock. The other drivers and team members can’t stop laughing at how serious she is about it, and he’s just the proudest dad ever.

Future Champion

The paddock buzzed with the usual hum of excitement as the race weekend unfolded. Engineers scurried around, laptops in hand, as the scent of hot asphalt and motor oil filled the air. It was just another Friday, the start of practice sessions, but for Oscar, it was a bit more special.

His two-year-old daughter, Yn, was spending the weekend at the track with him.

Yn clung to his hand as they strolled through the McLaren garage, her wide eyes scanning everything with an endless curiosity only a toddler could possess. Her brown curls bounced with every step, her other hand clutching a half-eaten snack that was already crumbling against her tiny fingers.

"Daddy, what's that?" she asked, pointing at the sleek orange car parked in the garage.

"That's my car, sweetheart," Oscar said softly, crouching down to her level. "That's what I drive on the track."

Her lips parted in awe, as if she was seeing magic for the first time. "You drive that?" Her voice was filled with wonder.

He chuckled, brushing a stray curl from her face. "I do. I'm going to drive it in a bit. You want to watch me?"

Yn nodded enthusiastically, her snack momentarily forgotten. "I wanna see!"

Oscar smiled as he pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Alright, baby. You'll sit with Uncle Lando while I drive, okay?"

As if summoned, Lando strolled over, dressed casually in his team gear, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. "Hey, Yn," he greeted, wiggling his fingers at her. "Ready to hang out with the coolest person here?"

Yn blinked up at him with mild confusion before turning back to Oscar. "Daddy’s cooler."

Oscar let out a laugh, lifting her into his arms. "You heard her."

Lando gasped in mock offense. "Betrayed by a two-year-old!" He shook his head dramatically. "I thought we were friends, Yn."

She giggled, clinging tighter to Oscar's neck. "Daddy's best."

Oscar's heart melted at her words, and he squeezed her gently before passing her over to Lando. "Be good for him, okay? I'll be back soon."

Yn pouted for a second, but she allowed Lando to take her, nestling comfortably in his arms. "Drive fast, Daddy."

"Always," he promised with a wink before disappearing toward his car.

---

The rumble of engines filled the air as free practice one began. Yn sat perched on Lando's lap in the McLaren garage, oversized headphones protecting her little ears. Her attention was glued to the screens showing the track, her eyes scanning for any glimpse of her dad.

"He's there!" she squealed suddenly, pointing at the screen as Oscar's car zoomed through a corner.

"Yep, that's your dad," Lando confirmed, bouncing his knees slightly to entertain her. "He's pretty fast, huh?"

Yn nodded vigorously, her face lighting up with pride. "He's the best driver ever!"

Lando chuckled, adjusting her headphones when they slipped slightly. "You're his biggest fan, aren't you?"

"Yes!" she declared without hesitation, her little hands clenched into excited fists.

When the practice session ended, Oscar returned to the garage, pulling off his helmet with a relieved sigh. Before he could even process his engineers' comments, Yn wriggled out of Lando's grasp and sprinted toward him.

"Daddy!" she cried, throwing her arms up.

Oscar bent down, scooping her up in one swift motion. "Hey, sweetheart," he greeted, still catching his breath. "Did you like watching me drive?"

Her face was flushed with excitement. "I wanna drive like you!" Her words tumbled out in a mix of gibberish and enthusiasm, barely understandable.

Oscar tilted his head, frowning slightly as he tried to decipher her excitement. "You... you want to drive?"

Yn nodded, her curls bouncing again. "Yes! Like you!" Her tiny hands made a vague steering motion, as if that would clarify things.

Lando, watching the exchange with amusement, scratched his head. "Is she asking for driving lessons?"

"I think she is," Oscar murmured, his lips twitching into a smile. He shifted Yn to one hip and turned to a nearby intern. "Hey, could you grab the small McLaren car from the storage room?" he asked softly, and the intern scurried off immediately.

Yn tilted her head in curiosity. "What car?"

"You'll see, baby," he assured her, pressing another kiss to her forehead.

Minutes later, the intern returned with a sleek, kid-sized McLaren car—a perfect replica of Oscar's race car. Yn's eyes grew impossibly wide as she wiggled out of her father's arms.

"For me?" she gasped, reaching out to touch the shiny surface.

Oscar crouched down beside her. "Just for you," he confirmed, opening the tiny door. "Come on, let's get you in."

With his gentle guidance, Yn clambered into the car, her face glowing with delight. Oscar carefully closed the door, adjusting her position as she fidgeted excitedly.

"Alright, sweetheart," he said softly, pointing to the miniature steering wheel. "You hold this to steer. And if you press this button, the car will move."

Yn's fingers curled around the wheel as if it were the most precious thing she'd ever held. "Like you, Daddy?"

"Just like me," he promised, giving the car a soft push forward.

Her delighted squeal filled the pit lane as she rolled down the smooth surface, her tiny hands steering with intense concentration. She was serious—dead serious—about this.

Lando let out a low whistle. "Wow, she's already better at this than half the grid."

Oscar laughed quietly, his heart swelling with affection as he watched her. "She takes after her father."

It wasn't long before the other drivers began to notice the tiny McLaren zipping (well, crawling) around the pit lane. Max, emerging from the Red Bull garage, stopped mid-step, his brow arching as he spotted Yn.

"What is that?" Max asked, pointing toward her.

Lando leaned against a wall, grinning. "Future world champion."

Charles wandered over next, his eyes widening when he caught sight of the toddler making her slow but determined way across the lane. "Is that... Yn?"

"Yep," Oscar confirmed, not even trying to hide the pride in his voice.

"She's very focused," Charles noted, trying and failing to suppress a smile. "Maybe a little too focused."

"She's serious about this," Lando agreed. "I mean, look at her. That level of dedication at two years old? Insane."

Yn, meanwhile, was entirely unbothered by the growing audience. She tightened her grip on the wheel, her lips pressed into a little pout of concentration as she maneuvered her car in circles around the pit lane. To her, this was the most important thing in the world.

Oscar crouched down again when she rolled back toward him. "You're doing amazing, baby," he said softly. "You like your car?"

Yn beamed up at him, her cheeks flushed with excitement. "I love it!"

Lando clapped his hands together. "Alright, Oscar. When are you signing her to McLaren?"

Oscar chuckled, scooping Yn up as she reached her arms out for him. "Give her a few more years," he teased, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek. "She'll be ready in no time."

Yn snuggled against his chest, sighing contentedly. "I wanna drive like you always, Daddy."

His heart melted right there on the pit lane. "And you will, sweetheart. One day, you will."

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♥︎♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Authors Note: Hope you guys enjoyed this! My requests are always open for you.

-💙🦋

[svtswhorehouse]

DATING DINO INCLUDES…. — sfw

• being featured in danceology videos (even if you can’t dance.)

• he always shows you his choreo before he takes it to the company or hoshi.

• definitely the type to pull you on your feet and teach you some moves.

• pls let him know he’s doing a good job, he loves words of affirmation but will never admit to it.

• you can read him like an open book.

• he’s a little clueless sometimes, but he’s trying his best.

• he definitely calls the rest of the boys up and asks them for relationship advice.

• he once enlisted woozi’s help to write a song for you.

• he makes you do tiktok dances with him.

• dino is always SO excited to show or tell you anything and everything. you’re the first person he always finds himself running to.

• y’all have a cute little handshake that was made before you two even started dating.

• you definitely confessed first.

• he would pretend he knows what you’re talking about when it comes to your work, nodding along with furrowed eyebrows, but really he has no clue.

• y’all are the type of couple to go on late night adventures, whether it be hitting up a convenience store for snacks or playing on a random playground.

• still to this day, no matter how long it’s been, you two are still teased by his members cause wdym the maknae has a girlfriend.

• he’s always finding ways to smooch ya whenever he’s drunk.

• y’all have the weirdest and most complex inside jokes that have other people going ???? cause wtf are yall actually talking about.

• you’re his number one supporter and in return, he’s yours.

• he’s always looking at you like he wants to grab your face and kiss you.

• he thinks matching t-shirts are cute and has even bought yall some.

• he insists on indulging in your hobbies, even if they’re not exactly up his alley.

• you’re his karaoke partner always.

• he can definitely easily tell when you’re cold and would always offer you his jacket no matter what.

• contrary to popular belief, after you two have been dating long enough, he becomes one smooth mf. the pickup lines go crazy.

• whenever you two argue, he backs down quite fast cause he cannot stand to see you sad or upset, let alone because of him.

• you would challenge him to dance battles just for fun quite often and he would let you win (even though that’s hard to believe.)

• sometimes he’s way too hard on himself and you’re the only person who can pull him out of that slump.

• you two always end up going to bed really late because yall stay up talking about anything and everything.

• overtime, you’ve found your dance skills getting better and better.

• he’s the type to hold your hand and start swinging them just cause it makes you laugh.

• speaking of, he’s always trying to make you giggle. he’s thinks it’s one of the best sounds he’s ever heard.

• sometimes he has troubles voicing his hardships, but you’re his comfort person and the only one he finds easy to let it all out to.

• he literally has no clue what to do when you’re sick, but tries his best.

• would whine whenever you put on a romcom, but give it a few minutes and he’s hooked.

[hairmetal666]

The first time Steve meets Eddie Munson they're booked for a little indie wrestling show in Rhode Island.

Eddie is--scrappy, untested. It's obvious the only kind of wrestling he's ever done is of the backyard trampoline variety. But. There's something there; they can all see it.

He doesn't like Steve much, but then Steve can't blame him. The Harrington's are a legacy wrestling family. His dad, uncles, even his mom was a famous valet and manager before getting married and retiring. So, he's got this name, and this look, and--earned or not--a reputation, and Munson doesn't like him.

Steve tries not to take it personally.

In between tours and indie bookings, Eddie starts as a trainer at Hopper's gym, and they start doing demonstrations for the kids together. Eddie's good, really good. Even though it's just for teaching, their styles and energy match.

They get booked in their first match against each other at a local show a few months later. The energy they had at Hopper's is nothing compared to this. Sure, there's only about 200 people packed into this high school gym, but it doesn't matter. It's electric.

Eddie's long, curly hair, lean muscles, and tattoos caught Steve's eye the moment they met, but it never flourished into anything because of how much Eddie hated him.

Now, though, they're spending time together, talking, rolling around in a wrestling ring all day, and Steve's only human.

There's a Ring Of Honor pay-per-view, it's the first time that Steve and Eddie have wrestled for a large audience. Anticipation for the match burns in his stomach.

This is Eddie's first appearance in ROH, and no one quite knows what to expect. He only gives a little Cheshire Cat grin when asked. So, Steve is genuinely startled when the arena lights go out, less so when Master of Puppets blares through the speakers.

The lights come up and Eddie stands at the end of the ramp. He's shirtless, hair in damp, loose curls around his shoulders. He's wearing pleather wrestling pants with mesh cutouts across his thighs and shins. Steve thinks he might die.

Eddie slips between the ropes to wild cheers, and Steve stops thinking about how hot he looks.

The first time they tangle up, Steve leans extra close, whispers, "that was amazing." And Eddie gives him this smile that's part menace and part joy. Steve's heart leaps, and their bodies crash together. It's the best time he's had in the ring in years.

Steve's crush aside, he thinks it was relatively normal until he catches up to Robin backstage.

"What the hell was that?" She hisses.

"Huh?"

"Oh my god, Steve. You were all over each other."

"Yeah? We were wrestling?"

"Is this wrestling?" She pulls up the picture from the beginning, of Steve leaning close and Eddie's smile.

It's, uh, way more intimate than Steve realized in the moment. His ears heat. "It wasn't like that," he says.

Robin rolls her eyes. Of course she sees right through him. "Tell that to the 5.1 thousand people who've already liked and reposted this picture."

"It's not going to be a thing," he tells her. He's certain of it.

It becomes a thing.

There are memes, fan art, fan fiction. People ship them--a couple of their trainees, Max and Erica, show them all the fics about them on ao3.

They're a hit.

They're booked against each other again, and this time, Eddie grabs Steve by the back of the head, pulls him in until they're almost kissing, until Steve stops breathing, feels his eyes going starry at the proximity.

The crowd is screaming so loud he can't hear anything, not even what Eddie is saying, even though they're so close. He leans in, unthinking, and Eddie stutters.

"They're eating this up!" Eddie shouts.

And they are, totally captivated. Which is why Steve presses their cheeks together for a several seconds before punching Eddie in the solar plexus.

Their next match, someone starts yelling "kiss, kiss!" and then it's the whole arena. Steve has to hide his laughter against Eddie's shoulder.

They lean more into it. They're having a blast. It even sort of helps his crush a little bit, to kind of make it into something the fans are in on.

He debuts on AEW against Hangman Page. Steve gets the win, and as the ref lifts his arm, he takes a blow to the back of his head. He has a second to see Jason Carver's signature letterman jacket before he goes down. He tries to curl up to protect himself, but still takes a boot to the stomach and more hits to the face and head.

The crowd is already in a frenzy, but when the noise goes up to a fever pitch, he knows Eddie's running down the ramp. He hears the thunk as Jason goes down, then Eddie is hauling Steve up by the shoulders.

They don't leave the ring right away. Instead, Eddie holds him there, brushes his hand over Steve's forehead before cupping his cheek.

As they slip between the ropes, walk to the back, his ears ring. He doesn't think it's from all the cheering.

---

In their next appearance on AEW, Jason attacks Steve backstage. The cameras cut to them right as Steve is thrown into a brick wall. It's supposed to be violent, supposed to get bloody. When he crashes into the corner of a backstage crate, he lets it catch him just above the eyebrow.

The blood starts flowing, warm, down his eyelid and nose just as he hears Eddie burst through the door. There's yelling, the sound of Jason running off, then a warm hand is on his back.

"Steve?" Eddie yells. His voice breaks. "Stevie?"

Hands are on his face, his shoulder, pushing back his hair, pressing against the cut above his eye.

"Ed," he mumbles.

"I'm here, I've got you. Paramedics are on the way, okay? You're going to be okay."

The cameras go down, and the medical team rushes over to patch him up.

Eddie's waiting for him when they're done.

"You're okay," Eddie says. "There was blood everywhere."

"Yeah, I'm alright. Crate got me a little more than I meant for it to."

"Can I?" Eddie asks. He reaches towards Steve, like he wants to touch.

"Course." Steve's voice is thick.

Eddie gently presses his hair back, revealing the butterfly bandage on his forehead. He hisses in a breath. "Got yourself good. I--I don't like seeing you hurt," he says, soft. "I didn't expect--I mean, I know it's not--I didn't like seeing you hurt."

Their eyes lock, the air between them charges. Not like when they're in front of an audience, the cameras. It's just them, alone; just them, standing too close.

Eddie's eyes dart to his mouth, and he leans forward until their breath mingles. Steve's eyes drift closed as the warmth of Eddie's mouth ghosts over his own.

A door down the hall bangs open with a clatter. Eddie and Steve spring apart, the moment fizzling.

Later, Steve tells Robin he thinks he imagined it.

---

Steve isn't on TV the next few weeks, the story is that he required surgery to repair internal bleeding and ended up with a grade-3 concussion. His timeline for return is unknown.

Eddie is set to wrestle Jason at the next pay-per-view, Revolution.

During Steve's two week break, he gets a text from Eddie. "Miss you, Stevie. Not the same here without you."

"Miss you too," he says back.

He's so in love with him.

---

The night of Revolution dawns, nerves thrumming in his stomach. He stays low-key, out-of-sight. He isn't going to make an appearance for a while, and he and Eddie agreed to not see each other before the match to make the reunion all the more real.

So, he hangs out in a backstage room, watching the show on a small TV, and psyching himself up for what's to come.

He makes his way to gorilla position as soon as Jason and Eddie finish their entrances, watches the match play out on the producers' monitors.

It's an even fight at the beginning but it gets nasty at the first appearance of weapons. Eddie takes a steel chair to the face, Jason sets up a table and Eddie dives from the top rope to crash him through it. That mat is littered with thumbtacks and sticky with blood, and then Jason grabs a chain from under the ring, wrapping it around Eddie's throat.

Steve runs down the ramp and the crowd goes insane, distracting Jason and allowing Eddie to scurry free. Jason disappears over the barricade and into the crowd, but neither of them go after him. Instead, Eddie runs around the ring, pulling Steve into a tight embrace. The fans scream.

They hold each other tight, the roars from the stands washing over them until they coalesce into one word, "kiss."

"Should we give the people what they want?" Eddie asks. His eyes are bright.

It's not real, Steve knows it's not, and maybe this will hurt more than landing in a pile of thumbtacks once it's over, but he nods. He's smiling so hard his mouth hurts.

He expects a stage kiss, a quick peck, but Eddie's hand cups the back of his head, draws him in slow, their lips meeting in a gentle press.

Everything around them melts away and he sinks against Eddie, lets the kiss carry him away. He wants more, wants to taste, wants anything Eddie will give.

"Guys," a voice says next to them. "Guys, you gotta ease up. We have to re-set for the main event."

The audience noise comes back to him in a tidal wave chant of their names and "They're in love" accompanied by a rhythmic clap.

They walk backstage together, close but not touching, and Steve thinks he can't be disappointed if it was only for TV. It was the closest to bliss he's ever been.

In the bustle of backstage, Eddie pulls him into a quiet hallway, hands immediately going to Steve's face.

"I meant it." He says. "The kiss. I meant every second."

For their second kiss, no one is there to tell them to stop.

[aliceinborderlandsquidgame]

Not on the carpet! | The Salesman x Wife!Reader |

Notes: Different from the other ones. Reader knows what his husband does for work.

Summary: Your dear Husband comes home with blood and all you want is it to not touch the dam carpet!!

Warnings: Blood - Canon Violence - Suggestive -

The Salesman knows he is not looking his best right now. Not after having to kill some people who were getting too close to the truth of the games.

And he knows what his dear wife will say once he opens the door. Instead of a warm smile a look of panic will be there. Not for him.

"Dont let that blood fall on the carpet!" You tell him in a stern tone coming to greet him when you did hear the door open but stopped after seeing the blood on him.

"Hello my Love. I hope your day went better than mine" He says pulling off his suit jacket but not moving from the entrance.

Last time he did get blood on the carpet not only was he forced to clean it himself. He was banned to the guest room (no problem the bed its comfortable). But his lovely wife banned him of sex. For a week. And she did nothing but keep temting him all week. Wearing pajama shorts that barely covered her ass and let him see her legs. Light colored shirts that let him see her tits and nippels.

Oh, how he wanted to just throw you over the table and fuck you nice and rough. Make you forget your name and only know his. He wanted you to regret it.

But he had to demostrate he did have some self control. So on the last night exaclty when the clock did hit the final time he was on you like a dog in heat. Pulling you over his lap, touching all the exposed skin and leaving bruises behind.

And while that sex was amazing. He would prefer to not be on another week without sex.

"Here" You did appear again giving him a big plastic bowl so he could put his dirty clothes in. "I will wash it later. I can only imagine how much of a pain its going to be" Your face did show the small anger towards it.

"Sorry Love. But the blood of these worms seems to be as dirty as them" He responded removing his tie too.

"You are not injured, right?" You asked seeing some blood on his cheeck but he just dismisses your question with a move of his hand. "Good. Let me get you some cotton and water then"

"Im finally allowed inside my home?" He half joked as he saw you go then do a stop and look back at him. "It did not get on my shirt I promise"

He remembers that one time when it did get on his shirt. He had to sat for then minutes of you scolding him.

"...Then come. But you know what will happen if I see a single blood drop!"

The Saledman groaned following you into the big bathroom taking a seat on the toilet. "Not sex ban again my Love" He begged pulling you close so he could get his face against your stomach "Jerking off to pictures of you or videos of us its never enough. I need the real thing" To add his point he gives your ass a firm grip.

You try to ignore him as you get some water and cotton to clean off the blood from his face.

"Dont be a baby" Its your response as you slowly clean his handsome face. Glad to see that there are not injuries but just dry blood as he said. "And you did make up for it when the week ended" You added the memory still fresh on your mind.

"I came so fast" He says his eyes never leaving you. Him falling for you soft touch. "I was inside you and then I just filled you up so fast" he sounded so dissapointed with himself.

"You did. But it was a lot. I believe we should let your balls get as much cum as they can so you can fill me up really nice"

The Salesman let out a small sound between a laught and a groan. "Dont make me pull you against that wall...I still need to shower so you dont get the smell of these men"

You smiled at his possessive nature giving him a kiss on the head once you were done cleaning him.

"And I havent finish making your favorite food. So looks like we both will have to attend diferent things before I can greet you properly"

"You are my favorite food. You always taste so divine. I wish I could be between your legs all day. Making you cum over and over again. Getting all of hit on my face and chin. I will lick it up so good. You would be crying from how much stimulation you are getting. But I know you would not care about it. You would let me keep going, because you love me. And you love what I do to you"

You blushed hard under his gaze and his smirk. He was not wrong. And that scene did happen once. You were so wasted after it...you could barely walk let alone think straight. You were like a doll and he loved it. He loved being the cause of your pleasure.

"Yeah well. Maybe later" one look from him made you crumble. There was not a "maybe" it was a "defenetly" and part of you believed he would not wait till you ended dinner.

"Its a promise my Love" He said kissing your hand and wrist. He closed his eyes as he smelled your skin. Oh how he loved it. It was just...you and it was all he needed. "Go and try finishing that dinner for me. But...maybe I will skip it and go for the special plate of the house"

You let out a small smile your face burning. "Go on, get on that shower first" You said leaving him to be "I will bring you a new set of fresh clothes"

"Thanks Love" Your Husband responded removing his shirt in order to get inside the shower, his mind already thinking on the idea of having you for himself once he removes the smell of these worms from himself.

And, oh how much he is going to enjoy every second of it.

[maskedbyghost]

Ghost Loves Your Hair, the thing is, reader with curly/Kinky hair *feral noises.*

-🐻✨

Oh, Simon is the best.

The first time he offers to wash your hair, he just goes for it, running his fingers through like it’s nothing—until you yelp and grab his wrist, stopping him mid-motion. He freezes, his eyes wide.

“What?”

“You—you can’t just rake through it like that,” you say, half laughing, half horrified.

That’s the night he sits beside you, watching as you show him—how to work the conditioner through in sections, how to scrunch instead of rub, how to be patient with the curls. His brows furrow, his lips pressing into a line as he absorbs every word and your every motion. He doesn’t say much, just nods, hands twitching like he’s already trying to commit it to muscle memory.

The next time he washes your hair, it’s different. He moves carefully, smoothing the conditioner between his palms before working it in the way you showed him. His fingers detangle slowly, and when he scrunches the ends, he murmurs, “Like this, yeah?”

Your chest tightens, warmth blooming behind your ribs. “Yeah,” you whisper. “Just like that.”

Later, when he wraps a T-shirt around your hair instead of a towel, pressing a kiss to your temple, you realize—this isn’t just him helping.

It’s him loving.

@daydreamerwoah

[hjvi]

𝑹𝒐𝒐𝒎 𝑲𝒆𝒚 𝑹𝒆𝒖𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒏

Pairing: Chris Sturniolo x Fem!Reader

Summary: Oh how sweet reunions can be.

Warnings: Smut. MDNI. Angst and comfort, just a bit. Fingering, dirty talkin’.

Word Count: 3.2k

One hour. That’s all the time it took to reach the familiar, slightly run-down hotel that you’d grown accustomed to during the month-long stretches Chris found himself away for tour. You’d been there often enough for the woman at the front desk to know you by name, a look of sympathy in her brown eyes that you hated more than the faint, lingering scent of stale coffee and cleaning solution that clung to the air.

He’d call you—your house, your phone, anywhere—until he finally got a hold of you, and then he’d let you know he had a week off. You knew where to meet him, just where you currently found yourself. You set down your travel bag, sighing to yourself as you fell backward onto the bed, staring up at the cracked ceiling. You didn’t know when Chris would be back, you only knew that he would. Sometimes it’d take hours after that phone call for you to finally see him, but once you did, he was all yours for the week.

It was a shitty predicament, one neither of you were too fond of—you least of all. Yet Chris seemed to somehow make the best of it, something that hurt you to no end. He’d been faithful, of course he had, but when you only saw him for a week after months of practically no contact besides a weekly phone call, it didn’t leave much room for love. He’d always come back exhausted, a little thinner, dark circles under his eyes, and one hell of a story to boot. You’d laugh, ensure he was alright, and as he slept, you’d lie awake, looking over him to try your damnedest to memorize every facet of his face.

The way his lips parted in his sleep, the worry line between his brows, the way his nose would scrunch right before he’d mutter something in his sleep - it was funny in a way, how he managed to be pissed off at someone even as he slept. Eventually, you’d fall asleep, waking up hours later being held close to his chest, his nose buried in your hair with his arms wrapped so tightly around your middle that you could hardly breathe. And then the days would come to an end, you’d stifle tears and he’d kiss your temple and be off again.

You wrung your hands in your lap, feet shuffling against the red patterned carpet as you gazed out the window, waiting for that familiar car to pull up in the parking lot. There wasn’t much else to do, the television worked fine, but there was nothing on besides public access and a few infomercials, something that tended to make you sleepy, and you didn’t want to sleep just yet. You could only imagine how women felt waiting for their husbands to return from war, it was a long shot from what you were going through, but the anticipatory anxiety felt all the same, along with the worries of him leaving yet again.

After a moment, you grew too irritated by the silence, pushing yourself off the springy mattress with a huff before fiddling with the buttons on the television. You somehow managed to land on a channel playing old reruns of some classic sitcom—something your parents loved but you never really got into. As dull as it was, it was better than the overwhelming quiet. You moved back to the bed, making yourself comfortable as you let the show play in the background.

It was as though God himself had answered your prayers when you heard the familiar thrum of Chris’s car, the engine had always been damn near deafening, but in that moment you couldn’t have been more happy to hear it roaring through the gravel parking lot. You jumped up from the bed, nearly tripping over your feet in the process, opening the door just in time for Chris to exit his car.

He looked completely drained, dark circles under his eyes and a tension in his shoulders that hadn’t been there before. One of the more noticeable signs of exhaustion was the way he rolled his neck, wincing slightly as if he’d been carrying more than just his luggage these past few weeks. You found yourself thankful that he didn’t seem hurt—no bruises, no cuts, none that were visible anyway. But all those worries faded the moment he smiled at you, hoisting his bag over his shoulder as he extended his other arm out to his side. With a tear-filled laugh, you ran to him, wrapping your arms around his middle and burying your face into his chest. You heard him let out a quiet, tired sigh when you made contact, but he quickly melted into you, wrapping his free arm around you and pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

“Act like you haven’t seen me in months or somethin’.” He quipped, usual sarcasm dripping off his words. Normally you would’ve been pissed, scowling at him, but all you could do was laugh into his chest before pulling away to smile up at him. He lifted his free hand, cupping your jaw affectionately.

“I haven’t.” You replied. “Been four months this time.”

He sighed, smile faltering as his hand dropped from your jaw, moving instead to fidget with the denim of his jeans. He looked to the motel room, nodding his head toward the opened door, not waiting for you to respond before moving into it. You followed closely behind, closing the door behind you once both of you were inside the heavily air-conditioned motel room.

“‘Full House?’ Really?” He laughed, motioning to the television with his free hand before dropping his bag onto the floor and moving to sit on the bed. You shrugged, a faint smile on your lips as you settled beside him. As much as you wanted to enjoy the time you two had together, you couldn’t help but feel the ache still lingering deep in your chest.

As if sensing your discomfort he hooked an arm around you, pulling you over to sit comfortably in his lap, your face tucked into the nook of his neck. Your hands fumbled with the fabric of his shirt, both of you sitting in comfortable silence as the sidcom continued playing on the television. Chris’s hand smoothed down your back, his chin resting atop your head.

“I know you don’t like my job,” he murmured, his voice vibrating in his chest as he soothed you. “I have to make money, baby. I’m—I’m not someone who can just sit behind a desk.”

You knew the truth behind his words; as much as you didn’t want to admit it, Chris was never bound for a life of calmness and serenity. The guy thrived on excitement—it was in his blood.

“Just wish you could be safe,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. “I hate going so long without seeing you. We’ve been together for years, and yet I only get to see you a fraction of the time.”

“I know.” He sighed, tilting his head down to look at you as he raised a hand to cup your jaw, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. “I do this for you. You’re the only reason I’m not going back to the grind. Touring’s safer.”

“Safer?” you asked with a sarcastic laugh, your hand moving down to lift his shirt, where, sure enough, a large bruise spread across the left side of his ribcage. “That’s safe?”

He rolled his eyes, abruptly shoving his shirt back down to cover his side. “Quit that.”

You moved back, still halfway on his lap as you moved to be in his line of sight. You were both stubborn, it was something that’d initially attracted you two together, but it certainly became a pain in the ass whenever you needed to discuss something.

“What?” You asked through a scoff of a laugh. “Am I right?”

He glared at you then, a warning hidden in his eyes, one that you’d never heeded in the entirety of your relationship with him. He brought his hands up, wiping tiredly at his face, sighing heavily into his palms.

“What do you want me to do?” He asked, voice muffled by his hands before he leaned up to meet your gaze, hands dropping down to his lap. “Work an office job? I’m not that type of man, I never have been. You knew who I was when we met, I haven’t changed.”

Whenever he got irritated his Boston accent would grow thick, something that grew to be a telltale sign of his frustration. You looked away from him, feeling anger bubbling in your chest as you fumbled with your hands.

“Can’t I want you to be safe?” You finally asked, turning on the bed to face him. “I hardly see you, Chris. And when I do- you’re like this.” You motioned to his bruises as you spoke, worry evident in your eyes and tone. Tours drained the very essence from Chris, and by the time you finally saw him, he was merely a shadow of the vibrant man he once was. It felt profoundly unfair to me, watching him fade like this.

He knew you cared for him, it was something that terrified him years ago, back when he didn’t know how to handle love and instead shoved it away. There were moments where that still flared, rearing its ugly head during disagreements or discussions on the future, but he’d never leave - he wouldn’t. He could hear your tears building in your words before your mind had even registered you were about to cry, moving to wrap his arms around your middle as he scooted back onto the bed with you, pulling you up onto his lap in an almost cradle-like position.

You went to say something but found your words broken off by emotion, earning you a soft hush from Chris as he smoothed his hand up and down the curve of your back. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, lingering there for a moment as he breathed in your scent. You could feel his hands clutching at you, just as you’d grab at him in your sleep.

“I know.” He whispered. More lingered beneath the words, silent promises of how he’d try to be safer, take less risky jobs - all for you. He’d never voice these things, but you knew him well enough to hear the words he didn’t have the strength to say aloud.

You tilted your head back then, brushing his hair from his forehead, letting your hand rest against the back of his neck as you smiled up at him, earning you a smile in return.

“Your hair’s grown.” You stated, lightly tugging on the longer-than-usual strands. Chris groaned out a laugh, swatting away your hand as you laughed.

“Hair tends to do that.” He replied, tone dripping with sarcasm, causing you to roll your eyes with another laugh and a murmured, “I know that, smart-ass.”

He leaned back against the headboard, smiling down at you as you situated yourself on his lap, effectively straddling him. His hands found their way to your hips, thumbs tucking into the belt loops on your jeans.

“Ain’t one to talk back when you’re on my lap, huh?” He teased, tilting his head to the side with a self-satisfied smirk on his face. You couldn’t deny his words, any time you found yourself on his lap all it took was a singular buck of his hips and you were putty in his hands, whining, desperate putty.

“Hush.” You responded, failing to hide your smile, tone soon broken into something more whiny when he shifted his hips below you. He quirked his brow at the sudden shift in your expression, chewing on the inside of his cheek as he pulled you down by the belt loops on your jeans. As he guided the roll of your hips your eyes fluttered, feeling your cunt clench around nothing.

“I think you’ve gone too long without me.” He whispered, voice husky as his right hand moved to the buttons of your jeans, the other hand still guiding your rocking motions against his lap. “You get all testy whenever you haven’t been fucked.”

“Chris-“ You started, head falling back right after as a moan erupted from you at the feeling of his hand sliding into your jeans, fingers finding home against your slick cunt. “So- so crude.”

“Yeah?” He asked through a laugh, thumb circling your clit as his middle and ring finger buried themselves in your cunt, a low grunt leaving him as you clamped down around his fingers. “Feels like you love it when I’m crude, doll.”

You couldn’t argue with him, not when his fingers were buried to the knuckle inside your cunt, brushing against a spot he knew better than you did yourself. You rode down against his palm, looping your arms around his neck, allowing yourself to whine against his throat as he pumped his fingers inside of you.

“Cum on my fingers, doll.” He murmured against your hair, hand tightening its hold on your hip as he moved his fingers within you. “Let me take care of you.”

Your brows furrowed together, hips stuttering in their movement against his palm. You could hear the soft rumble of laughter in his chest as he helped you regain your pace, muttering something incoherent as your whines turned into keens, your lips parted against his throat as you clutched onto the back of his shirt for purchase.

“Atta girl.”

That was all it took for you to come undone, crying out his name against his neck as your cunt spasmed around his fingers. He pressed kisses to your forehead as you rode his fingers through your orgasm, his thumb never stopping its circling of your clit until you whined through breathless words for a moment to breathe.

You could audibly hear the sound of your arousal as he removed his fingers from your cunt, both digits coated in a thin veneer of your cum. He looked at you, smiling wickedly as he pressed the fingers to your lips. You quickly opened your mouth, tasting yourself as he pushed his fingers into your mouth, nearly touching the back of your throat in the process. You noticed his breath deepening, pupils blown as he watched you suck his fingers clean.

“Missed that mouth.” He hushed out, words breathless as he withdrew his fingers from your mouth. You leaned up then, wrapping your arms around his neck as you pressed your lips to his. His tongue sought yours, the kiss full of hunger and need, teeth clashing, and moans swallowed. You could feel his hard cock straining against the denim of his jeans, each shift of your hips on his lap causing him to all but whine into the kiss.

His hands moved to the waistband of your jeans, trying his damnedest to tug them off you as you straddled him, only for him to pull away with a frustrated, “Help me take these off of you before I rip them off.”

You laughed, lifting yourself as your hands moved over his, removing your jeans moments later along with your underwear, both items of clothing falling to the floor with a soft thud. Neither of you had the patience to get him undressed as well, so he sufficed with allowing you to unbutton his jeans, almost breaking the zipper in the process. Your hand curled gently around his cock, lazily pumping it as you returned to kissing him.

He moaned into your mouth, brows furrowing together as your thumb swiped over his tip. It wasn’t long until his touch on your hips grew needy, thumbs pushing into your hip bones in a silent plea for you to get on with it already. You’d half a mind to make him wait, but you needed him just as badly as he needed you. With a short lift of your hips, you guided him to your entrance, sinking onto his thick cock seconds later.

The stretch had you whining against his lips, slick sounds pooling from between your thighs as you slowly rocked down against him, each movement of your hips bumping your clit against his lower stomach. You could feel his thighs tensing beneath you, muscles flexing in tandem with each canter upward of his hips, pushing him deeper within you.

His hands guided your hips, breaths coming out as short grunts whenever you’d squeeze around him. You could feel his cock dragging inside of you, brushing against that spot that had your thighs twitching under his hold. He trailed his lips from yours to your jaw, breath hitching against your skin in between open-mouthed kisses to your throat.

It was slow, passionate - everything you’d missed in the months he’d been absent. You wrapped your arms around his neck, fingers threading through the back of his hair as you rode him. He kissed down your throat and onto your chest, free hand moving up to cup your breast. You tightened your hold on him, head falling back as he bent his legs, planting his feet against the mattress as he fucked himself up into you.

The new angle and urgency had your cunt squeezing around him, legs giving out beneath you as he continued fucking you. He let out a breathless laugh, hands moving to your hips, essentially pushing you forward to rest against his chest as he rutted up into you, each thrust of his cock brushing against your g-spot in an almost blinding sense of pleasure.

Your hands blindly grasped at his shoulders for purchase, uttering pleas for him, words soon turning into incomprehensible sobs as the pleasure left you unable to do anything other than whine out his name against his chest. You could feel your cunt fluttering around him with each thrust of his hips, the movement causing you to rock forward, clit brushing against his lower stomach.

“You hear that?” He grunted out lowly, grasp on your hips tightening to an almost painful degree. “Hear how desperate you sound for me?”

With a strangled cry of his name, you came undone, cunt spasming around his cock as he pumped into you. You went limp against him, eyes squeezed shut as he fucked you through your orgasm, whispering words of praise against the shell of your ear as he chased his release inside of you.

“So fucking good.“ He grunted, words followed by a sharp thrust upward, tip pushing against your cervix as he flooded you full of his cum. You whined against his chest, feeling his cock twitch inside of you. As he caught his breath he lifted his hand, gently cupping your jaw to tilt your head back, eyes searching yours to ensure you were alright.

“‘M okay.” You whispered, voice barely audible. He nodded, sighing out a lungful of air as he leaned forward to press a kiss to your forehead. You rested back against him then, shifting your hips slightly to make yourself comfortable - or as comfortable as you could be with him still nestled inside of your cunt.

“Just-“ He started, wrapping his arms around you to ensure you stayed put. “Just stay there, I’ll carry you to the shower later.”

A faint laugh left you as you allowed him to hold you close, knowing neither of you had the strength to move from the bed anytime soon. You’d have to call the front desk and get clean sheets once you did, but for now, you were content resting against him, listening to the steady thump of his heartbeat echoing within his chest.

“I love you.” You whispered, moving your head to press a kiss over his heart, earning you an affectionate hum as he ran his fingers through your hair.

“I love you too, doll.”

A/N: Thank you so much for taking the time to read my work! It’s been a while since I’ve written smut like this, so please bear with me if I’m a bit rusty. I really appreciate any interactions and feedback you have!

╰┈➤𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒔 𝒕𝒓𝒖𝒍𝒚, 𝒉𝒊𝒗𝒊

dividers- @bernardsbendystraws

dedicated to-@swagalicious260 @watercolorskyy @coquettechris @lovesturni0l0s @christmastreecake @ellbowmacaroni @blog-luvdance @sophand4n4 @meg4-matt44 @mommymomm @chriss-slutt @humpster35 @courta13 @idkwhatthisis2009 @yourfavoritefangirl @slutformatt17 @watercolorskyy @mylifeisevenstranger @suyqa @junnniiieee07 @thecrawlys @sturniolohohoho @h3arts4harry @fratbrochrisgf @abysful @slvt4chrissturniolo @tezzzzzzzz @surfer-sturn @blushsturns

[xxbrightshadowxx]

The reason why I give Caitvi more crap for when Caitlyn hit Vi with the rifle then when Ekko beat up Jinx on the bridge and how they tried to kill each other is because of the couple’s circumstances.

Ekko and Jinx were on opposite sides of a conflict. Jinx worked for Silco and Ekko was trying to takedown shimmer. They were enemies. Jinx was already known at that time to kill firelights, why would they not like each other? And with the situation at the bridge, Jinx killed a lot of enforcers. They were already in a situation of violence so when those two devolved into violence, it makes sense. They weren’t in a romantic relationship, they weren’t on good terms with each other the last time they interacted(the shimmer blimp), and it was of a violent circumstance that lead to them fighting. This wasn’t a portrayal of them if they were romantically involved with each other. We even actually do see this in season two ep 7

Then there is Caitvi. Before season 2 one could argue their relationship is still platonical cause they don’t actually do anything physical. While, yeah, that excuse is bull but they were in a sorta-situation-ship at the end of season 1. Nothing to get them in trouble with China. It wasn’t until season 2 ep 3 that we see their first physically romantic action. They kiss which basically establish that they like each other a lot. They were on good terms with each other and were allies. They were working together to take down Jinx. The circumstance that led to Caitlyn hitting Vi is first, Vi stops Caitlyn from shooting at Jinx when there was a moving child on top of her because shooting a weapon when there is a child nearby especially if said shooter is not in the best mindset is not a good idea. They(Sevika, Caitlyn, and Isha) escape. Caitlyn insults Vi by saying she’s just like the rest of Zaun and isn’t different(which is also very ignorant by implying that the norm is bad and evil zaunties and Vi is some exception to this norm) also saying it’s her(Jinx) blood in your veins. She walks away and Vi grabs Caitlyn and asks why are you the one acting like her. Eight seconds pass before Caitlyn hits Vi in the stomach with her gun before leaving her alone.

Caitlyn and Vi were on good terms with each before this incident. Hell, before they even attack Jinx they fucking kiss. The violence had already wound down, Sevika, Jinx, and Isha had already left, there was no need for violence. It wasn’t a life or death situation. Caitlyn had no need to hit Vi in the gut. Vi wasn’t going to attack her. And if you say, oh you don’t know that, then you do not understand Vi as a character. This wasn’t them fighting, this was assault(since Vi didn’t hit her back). To add the sicken cherry on top of all of this, the show never once acknowledges this. They brush it under the rug and ignore it. Caitlyn never apologizes for hitting Vi or leaving her. They just move straight to sex.

You see why this leaves a bad impression?

[wonubby]

King of Greed - k. bakugo

based off of the books from ana huang

Workaholic!husband bakugo who spends more time at the office than with you.

Workaholic!husband bakugo who doesn't notice when you leave work events early, too distracted by his responsibilities.

Workaholic!husband bakugo who comes home late and instead of resting, dives straight into work in his office.

Workaholic!husband bakugo who misses so many dates that it becomes the norm.

Workaholic!husband bakugo who promises to not miss your 10th marriage anniversary tip

Workaholic!husband bakugo who misses your 10th anniversary trip by 2 hours

Workaholic!husband bakugo who when he comes home, finds your luggage in the living room and instantly realises why he's been feeling nothing but dread the entire afternoon

Workaholic!husband bakugo who sees your wedding ring on the mantle beneath your wedding photo, recognizing the distance that has grown between you.

Workaholic!husband bakugo who spends the night searching for you, running through the rain and calling you desperately, hoping you'll answer.

Tired!wife reader who wakes up to a thousand voicemails from Katsuki, each one pleading for you to come home.

Tired!wife reader who, worn out, finally tells him where she is.

Tired!wife reader who, seeing his sickly appearance, lets her guard down just a little, before standing firm in her decision.

Tired!wife reader who listens to him plead and beg, promising to reschedule the trip so you can still go together.

Tired!wife reader who, despite his promises, says no.

Tired!wife reader who asks for a divorce.

Desperate!husband katsuki who is devastated that he never saw the signs before.

Desperate!husband katsuki who blames himself for ruining the best thing in his life.

Desperate!husband katsuki who refuses to accept the divorce desperate to work things out, forgetting that you asked for marriage counseling years ago, but he never showed.

Desperate!husband katsuki who, even though you're no longer wearing your ring, threatens any man who approaches you because you’re still his wife.

Desperate!husband katsuki who dances with you in a bar, asking for just one kiss—only for it to turn into something more, until his phone rings, reminding you that work will always come first.

Desperate!husband katsuki who only sees you again at a large dinner gathering, which turns into chaos when the host collapses at the table.

Desperate!husband katsuki who, after finding you again, feels nothing but relief and ushers you into a cab, taking you back to your shared penthouse.

Desperate!husband katsuki who makes love to you that night, determined to show you how much you mean to him.

Desperate!husband katsuki who wakes up to find you sneaking out of bed, asking where you're going, leading to an argument that ends with you begging him to sign the divorce papers.

Desperate!husband katsuki who reluctantly signs the papers

Persistent!ex-husband katsuki who plans to win you back, no matter what it takes.

Persistent!ex-husband katsuki who, upon hearing you've gone to your home country, books a one-way ticket and rents a villa next door.

Persistent!ex-husband katsuki who is invited to dinner by your sibling out of sheer panic.

Persistent!ex-husband katsuki who gives you a shock when you find him in your house, casually setting down cocktail glasses next to the plates.

Persistent!ex-husband katsuki who spends his time in the country, attending the same events as you, hoping for a chance to reconnect.

Persistent!ex-husband katsuki who offers to fly you back home when a pipe bursts in your office, ruining months of hard work.

Persistent!ex-husband katsuki who holds you as you cry, his heart breaking for you.

Persistent!ex-husband katsuki who helps you clean up for weeks, during which the two of you talk and agree that it's time to move on.

Persistent!ex-husband katsuki who watches you bring a date to the next social event, barely concealing his jealousy as he sips his drink.

Persistent!ex-husband katsuki who overhears your date’s plans to record you both at his apartment and confronts him, breaking his nose in the process.

Persistent!ex-husband katsuki who, after the confrontation, is pulled into a passionate kiss, leading into him fucking your brains out, twice.

Persistent!ex-husband katsuki who invites you on a private date to a rented museum, only for you to tell him that your relationship is now strictly physical, and upon hearing this, eats you out against the wall as he fists his cock to the taste of you, spilling his seed all over the wall.

Persistent!ex-husband katsuki who, drunk and crying, shows up at your apartment, begging for you to take him back, and you finally do.

Boyfriend!katsuki who spends months making it up to you, taking you on dates, leaving work early, and sometimes skipping it entirely just to be with you.

Boyfriend!katsuki who, after months of growth and effort, asks you to be his wife once more.

Husband!katsuki who makes your second wedding even more memorable than the first, refusing to let you go and ensuring you're always by his side.

Husband!katsuki who is overjoyed when you surprise him with the news that you're one month pregnant with his child.

[quokkicidal]

L.M. | Husband Material

Genre: Fluff, established relationship

Warnings: None

Pairing: non-idol!Minho x gn!reader

A/N: Not a full on story, just some little blurbs :)

Requests open

Materlist

The kitchen smelled of your favorite breakfast, being cooked by your one and only Minho. He offered to make it because that’s just how he shows his love. Small gestures that build up, and you can’t help but to feel so lucky.

He looked at where you were sitting at the kitchen island and said, “How do you want your eggs?”

“Hmm, scrambled please!”

He just nodded his head and continued cooking. He started humming as he brought your food to you, placing the plate on the table and a kiss on the top of your head. You said thank you and he sat down and ate with you. He was the only person in your life that you could tell everything. He made you feel so safe and you truly cherish all the moments you have together, even the simple ones like these.

———

In the grocery store, Minho pushed the cart. Not because he wanted to, but he knows that if you pushed it you guys would be getting way more than what you needed. “Alright, next on the list is beef.” He said reading from the list you and him worked on together.

“Let’s go to the freezer isle then, and we can pick up some ice cream while we’re over there and we can have a movie night!” Minho smiled at your enthusiasm for movie nights and ice cream. It’s one of his favorite nights because you guys cuddle and make fun of movies together. One time you were watching Benji and Minho was trying his hardest not to cry, but there’s just something about animals in a sad setting that really pull at his heart stings. Of course you were crying too, who wouldn’t. But every time you bring it up to tease him, he always says, “You were crying more than I was!” When in reality he cried harder than you.

———

If you’re having a bad day at work, he’ll make sure to run you a bath before you get home. Filled with your favorite bath soap and your favorite candle lit on the counter. Despite what his friends see, he truly is a romantic at heart. Acts of service is definitely his love language. Before you get out of the bth, he’s already handing you a towel he previously tossed in the dryer to warm it up. He truly treats you like you’re a queen. You Al’s do the same for him, but in a different way. If you wake up before him, you make sure to make breakfast for the both of you and you iron his clothes if he has to dress formal. You know it’s not needed but he appreciates the crisp fold of a white button up.

———

Date nights are always looked forward to between you two. Whether you’re just going out to lunch, or you’re going to a full on five star restaurant. You tell him that he doesn’t need to do all this, but he’s planning something. As you both finish your dinner you share a dessert, which he lets you choose, he makes small talk. To be honest, he’s a bit nervous. He feels so safe around you, enough to let his guard down. When you first met him, you never would’ve expected being one of the few people that he lets in his bubble, but you are so happy that it ended up this way. The waiter eventually comes back to the table, and asks you guys to come with him. The waiter led you both to a back secluded garden area, which was absolutely beautiful. It was covered with flowers and even had a fountain. You stop by the fountain marveling at the work, and beside you, Minho gets down on one knee. As you turn, you couldn’t help but to start tearing up. “Oh my god, is this what I think it is?”

He nervously smiled, “Only if your answer is yes?” You couldn’t believe it, “These past three years have been the best three years I could have asked for. You truly are someone so special to me and i wouldn’t want to live the rest of my life if you weren’t by my side, will you marry me?”

By this time, you are full on waterworks, “Yes yes yes, of course I’ll marry you!” He put the ring on your finger and hugged you like it would be the last time he saw you. Through tears he says, “I love you, i love you so much.”

You laugh and say, “I love you too, and I always will.”

[sevsgiirl]

— piss her off ‘til she hates me, pt. 2

pt. 1, pt. 3

mechanic!sevika x reader. men and minors dni.

synopsis: when the vacant house next to sevika’s finally got new tenants she didn’t think much of it. as long as her new neighbors didn’t cause any trouble, all was well. that is until she found out the neighbor had a young daughter.

word count: 9k words.

tags: age difference, alternate universe, mechanic!sevika, brat!reader, enemies to lovers, oral sex, dom!sevika, sub!reader, pet names, scissoring, fingering, hate sex, vaginal fingering.

you can check out the fic playlist here.

it’s been two days since you and your father moved in and sevika was beginning to think she had nothing to worry about.

your old man seemed nice enough and his shift at the town’s office started this monday morning. she found out yesterday that he clocked in at exactly 6am and would come back home at 7pm and sevika felt bad for the guy. her job starts at 9am and ends at 6pm, and that was already exhausting for her.

she didn’t have any work today because her boss wanted to remodel the place. some of the paint on the walls had chipped off and her co-worker, ran, almost had one of the metal shelves fall on them due to rust.

but she still went out of her way to wake up early so she can work out, meaning she was able to catch up with your father when he pulled up at your driveway, ready to leave as he unlocked his car while sevika watched from her garage.

she just finished her cardio and was toweling herself dry from the sweat dripping off her forehead when you suddenly ran out in a pair of fluffy pink slippers, your hair in disarray while a thin blanket was draped over your shoulders. you gave your dad a quick hug and he smiled before he kissed the top of your head and sevika had to admit she found the view endearing.

she didn’t have a good relationship with her father. after her mother died her relationship with him got tethered and for the remaining years before he passed it just felt like living under the same roof as a ghost - a shell of a man who once had everything and then nothing, which made her resentful given the fact he still had a daughter, after all. that’s why she admires your father.

that in spite of everything he still looked out for you. and she admires you too in a way, that after everything you didn’t let the passing of your mother weigh you down too much that you still managed to stop yourself from going down the path of an addiction. unlike her, it took her a good chunk of her twenties and thirties to overcome hers, but even now, she still needs at least 4 pints of alcohol to get through the day.

so that’s what convinced her that since your old man was a good example maybe you wouldn’t be too troublesome.

oh, but she thought wrong.

it wasn’t until a few hours after your dad left and she finished her workout and decided to go back to bed was when she heard it.

that awful, grating sound of a speaker blasting music from your bedroom window, which coincidentally happened to be right across hers.

sevika tried to tune it out thinking maybe she’d be able to sleep it off or that eventually you’ll turn it off, but after twenty minutes where you showed no signs of stopping, she begrudgingly got up from bed in only a wife beater and sweat pants hanging low on her hips, marching out of her house and up to yours.

she didn’t want it to come to this, she thought maybe she was just overreacting when she sensed you were going to be a problem but like always, her gut instinct was right.

she pounded on your front door and when you took too long to open it, she scowled and banged on it so hard she swore she could’ve torn the hinges off.

“open up!” she yelled.

the music came to a screeching halt. fucking finally. she never really let her temper get the best of her, she normally had a tight hold on it, but in moments like these where she was given some time off work and to relax, to have that disrupted so early in the morning irked her beyond comprehension. plus didn’t you have any consideration? it’s nine in the fucking morning.

it took a couple of moments before the door swung open and revealed you, still clad in your pajamas (rather skimpy at that, as you only sported a baby black tee and shorts) distracting her with your bare thighs before your voice snapped her out of it.

“can I help you?”

again, your voice got on her nerves because not only was it a huge contrast to your inconsiderate behavior, being soft-spoken and all, but the way you asked the question didn’t help either. you almost sounded like you were the one being inconvenienced.

her jaw clenched “can you turn the music down? it’s so loud and I don’t know if you’ve noticed but it’s still so goddamn early.”

you blinked up at her with your big doe eyes, and if it were any other person, they would’ve fallen for the oblivious facade you were trying to pull. but she knew better.

and you sensed that she wasn’t having any of it either, making the ends of your mouth twitch as you glared up at her.

“you know, I’m beginning to doubt my dad’s judgment when he said you were cool.” you quipped back which only made her chuckle.

“I am, only because your father was good company and respectful. but you,” you dared her with your eyes to continue and quite frankly, she had no problem doing just that “you on the other hand? yeah, can’t really say the same.”

you shot daggers at her with your eyes but you were quiet for a bit despite her remark. then you grinned before walking closer and getting up in her personal space, too close that she was taken aback because she could practically feel your chest rubbing against hers due to the close proximity.

“that’s not a nice way to talk to your neighbor now is it?” you asked, tone dripping with sarcasm while your face hovered near hers, the height difference being the only barrier that stopped your lips from touching hers considering the top of your head could only touch her chin “sevika?”

the way her name rolled off your tongue shouldn’t have made her spine tingle, but it did. you had an obnoxious effect on her and she wanted to justify it as her being annoyed by you. nothing more.

“turn that shit off or else,” she said gruffly before turning back around and walking away, sparing you one last heated glance before she reached her house, and slammed her front door once she got inside.

the music still didn’t stop.

 

𐙚˙⋆.˚

 

it only got worse from there.

she should’ve known better than to confront someone like you who probably fed off on being told no more than anything, and you were slick with it too. you pulled your tricks just around the same time your father leaves for work, leaving no possible witnesses to see how much of a menace you are.

it started with the music, which became louder and more horrendous that she was convinced you only put it on just to grind her gears. it’d last for three hours until eventually you go the whole day before turning it off when you knew your father would come back home.

as if that wasn’t enough, you made some friends. not just any other friends, of course, you just had to get close to powder of all people, vander’s youngest, along with the rest of her friends who’s been sevika’s biggest nightmares for as long as she could even remember.

they’d stop by your house to hang out which would’ve been fine hadn’t powder brought her whole damn crew with her, and she means that literally too. powder and her boyfriend ekko had their own little band as a sideline job which they called the firelights, and for some ungodly reason, you decided to invite them over as well.

the firelights testing out their new equipment in your garage while you and the rest had drinks in your front yard, flinging some of the red solo cups you were using carelessly into the trash bin and of course missing, causing three or four to land on sevika’s yard instead.

combined with the commotion coming from your garage and the fucking littering, sevika was about to pop a vein. she knew she’d have to confront you again without there being other people so as to not cause a scene, so instead, she took her jacket and got out of the house so she wouldn’t have to endure any more of this nonsense. but while she was stomping away, the sound of your maddening voice made her pause.

“afternoon, sevika!” you chirped from where you sat in your front yard in your plastic chair, a stupid obnoxious grin on your face as you drank from your red solo cup before flinging it directly on sevika’s lawn, making her eye twitch before she got into the driver’s seat of her car and slammed the door shut. scowling at you one last time and she swore she saw you giggle.

fucking brat.

 

𐙚˙⋆.˚

 

she couldn’t take any more of your bullshit.

but she didn’t want to make it awkward with your father by bringing it up. aside from the fact she got along with him, she’d seen how tired he was after a long day at work. he does not need sevika giving him crap about how his daughter is a major pain in the ass.

vander and silco seem to agree as well.

“just ignore her, girls her age tend to act like that so they can get a rise out of you.” silco advised as sevika scoffed.

“I’d be lying if I said vi and powder don’t act the same way sometimes,” vander chimed in from behind the counter of the bar, a bustling little establishment he and silco opened years ago, before pouring sevika another pint of beer.

sevika chugged it down in mere seconds, letting out a groan “why did you even let that gremlin daughter of yours befriend her? now I got two problems on my hands.“

vander sighed “you know how she is, she’s sociable. and the girl is new here, are you really mad that she’s making friends?”

“I couldn’t give less than two shits that she’s making friends, my problem is that she and your daughter are causing a ruckus while I’m a few feet away.” she snapped “I only have a few days off before my boss clocks me in again, and I haven’t had the time to enjoy it.”

both men exchanged deliberate glances with one another before vander nodded in understanding.

“I’ll talk to her.”

sevika held onto that promise. even as she returned home from the bar, her head pounding from the afternoon spent complaining about how much of a nuisance you were while she drank her stress away.

she noticed that your father’s car still wasn’t in your driveway, but thankfully powder and her friends already left. relieved, she strode up to her house and up to her bedroom, already wanting to sleep the day away because she knew you’d wake her up with your obnoxious music in the morning.

she begrudgingly stepped into her bedroom while she stripped herself from her shirt, leaving her in only her sports bra as she tossed her keys onto her nightstand, about to turn the lamp shade on when her peripheral caught something from your window.

there you were, clad in a matching black lace set of lingerie. you looked at yourself in your vanity mirror while your hands roamed from your torso up to your shoulder blades until you fidgeted with the thin straps of your bra.

’what the fuck?’ sevika thought to herself as she watched you almost in a daze, entranced at how you fondled parts of yourself while being unaware that you had an audience.

one of your hands reached for your drawer, rummaging a bit until you pulled out a lengthy, purple object that sevika took a while to decipher what it was until it hit her.

you gripped the purple dildo in your hands as your nimble fingers made quick work to remove your bra, unclasping it from behind before it fell graciously down your back. giving sevika a good view of the small dip just above your rear, her gaze moving slowly back up to where your mirror was.

your vanity mirror which gave her a vantage point of your round perky breasts, your nipples pebbling in the freezing night air and you let your palm stroke them slowly, making you shiver as your head fell back, and sevika was sure you let out a moan.

sevika’s throat clamped up. she knew she shouldn’t be watching this. she didn’t like you but it’s not like she should be invading your privacy, it was wrong and she was forcing herself to turn away.

but you were hypnotizing, to say the least. a small little forbidden fruit she was so tempted to take a bite into, curious what you would taste like - how you’d react if the simplest of touches already got you so riled up like this.

she felt her cunt throb at the thought, wondering how you’d feel under her callous hands. if you’d squirm if she decides to manhandle you, pull your hair back while she yanks your hips and jerk you down onto her stra-

she snapped out of her trance when she noticed you were no longer in your own little bubble, eyes finally meeting hers and she startled before running to close her blinds in a hurry. but not before catching the way your eyes squinted, watching her.

fuck. fuck. fuck.

it was like it was your mission to make her life hell.

[thranduel]

reminder: mike was will’s friend first. will loved mike first.

el wouldn’t have even met mike if she didn’t open the gate that resulted in will’s disappearance where mike ended up searching for him.

mike and el’s relationship would be over and mike never would’ve told el he loves her if WILL didn’t lie to him in the van with his own painting and confession and pretend it was all from el when it wasn’t.

so really, if you want to talk about “stealing” (even though none of these kids would intentionally steal anything from each other and i’m obviously not directly blaming them, but i’m definitely blaming the writers), wouldn’t it be correct to say that everything was stolen from will?

his first love, his best friend, his childhood.

oh, and don’t even get me started on entire plot points and things mike does - most of the things people romanticise about mike doing for el (looking out for her, giving her a safe space, crying when he loses her, hugging his mother after she disappears, holding something that reminds him of her in his basement, never giving up on trying to contact her, being extremely worried and protective of her when she returns) is literally what he did for will first. every single thing i listed is what he did for will first. yet of course, no one seems to care about the closeness of their relationship and loves pretending that mike only did these things for el.

anyways, back to what i was saying before - the moment that gate opened because of el, will’s life changed in a way that could never, ever go back to how it once was.

while will was all alone in the upside down suffering, el randomly appeared out of nowhere, met mike and became closer to him, and they eventually started a romantic relationship at 12 years old after knowing each other for 6 days when mike kissed her.

when will returns, not only does he have ptsd and physical symptoms from the upside down, but he also has to live with the fact that the boy he loves most is now focused on someone else - the same person that caused his disappearance in the first place. i could truly think of no bigger slap in the face for this character… this is unbearable and cruel and the writers did all of it on purpose knowing that he loved mike the entire time too.

how could they do this and not intend for will to finally get the boy he loves in the end?

how do you have the audacity to say that will would be “stealing” mike from el when mike was the one stolen from HIM in the first place? and in case you had forgotten, will is the only reason mike said he loved el because he sacrificed his OWN feelings for mike and lied about the painting. he didn’t have to do any of that for them, but he did. i don’t even know why, after all the suffering he’s been put through, but it just shows he’s too good and kind. so don’t you dare ever say that will would be “stealing” mike from el when he loved him first AND sacrificed so much for him. THAT is the definition of true, unconditional love, the type of love that mike wants and needs, and it’s all from will.

[maskedcrawford]

Hidden Secrets

G Dragon x Reader

Summary: Steve, Ji-yong and another morning after. But this time words are spoken that can't be taken back.

Warnings: MORE Angst but this time it ends a little differently. I hope you guys enjoy! I'm having a blast writing this fic and so glad you guys are enjoying it. Please leave a like or a reblog if you enjoy and be sure to follow for updates on the story. Thank you for reading and for your support!

Chapter 2

Chapter 3- Beauty in the Mess

You listen to the phone ring, ring and ring some more. Why were you calling Steve exactly? One reason, you wanted to take your mind off Ji-yong and whatever her name is.

“Hello,” his tired but sober, for once, voice answers.

“H-hey,” you choke out.

“Y/n?” he asks as he sits up in bed, “What’s up?” he’s more alert now.

“If I text you the address, can you come over?” You had that feeling in the pit of your stomach that this wasn’t a good idea, but you were too hurt and frustrated to care.

“Uh, yeah just let me know where you are.”

“Ok, and bring condoms.” You say and hang up on him. Your stomach is in knots but you don’t care. You want something Ji-yong clearly isn’t going to give you and you aren’t exclusive. He said you could bring men home, so you’re going to.

You walk out of your room again and you stop and listen for a moment, there’s silence in his room and you figure he’s asleep.

“Safe till morning,” you think as you walk to the living room and watch outside the window. No need in him knocking and possibly waking up Ji. Once he gets there you let him in and put your finger to your lips making the shh motion. You lead him to your room wearing nothing but a long t shirt and your underwear.

“I uh, brough these,” he says showing you the box of condoms and you take the box and throw it aside to be used later.

“What’s going on?” his face is full of confusion and while you wish it was Ji-yong you were about to kiss, its not. But hey, he isn’t the only one who can use his imagination. You bring Steve’s neck down to your level as you capture his lips in a kiss filled with nothing but lust.

“Y/n,” he tries to say against your lips. You pull back and slip the t shirt off. You place his hands on you, knowing how to work him like a fiddle.

“Don’t talk, just make me feel good,” you say as you kiss him again. Did he make you feel good, eh not exactly. Kind of. Not the way Ji-yong did. His touch wasn’t heaven, it wasn’t electric or passionate, it was needy, rushed and selfish. He didn’t elicit the same noises or desires in you; being with Ji-yong really had spoiled you. But you honestly didn’t care as long as you got off.

“Does that feel good baby.”

“Don’t talk,” you said as you kissed him again, trying to think of Ji instead of him.

“Fuck.” You moan out.

“I thought you said we have to be quiet.”

“What did I say about talking?” you swat his face. Did you exaggerate a few noises? Of course, I mean, what good would this be if Ji-yong didn’t know anything.

Once the activity was done, you both lay there in bed heaving.

“Fuck I missed you,” he breathes as he tries to cuddle you. You get up before he can fully embrace you and quietly pick up your shirt and underwear putting it back on. You honestly needed a shower after that.

“I’m going to take a shower.”

“Want some company,” his voice is suggestive.

“No, Steve,” your voice is filled with annoyance and you twist your face in disgust.

You turn on the hot water once you get in the bathroom, the hottest you can stand, and slip in feeling it hit and sting your skin. Tears unintentionally stream down your cheeks. You hadn’t processed the stress any of this had put you under until this moment.

“What is wrong with me,” you sobbed quietly. 9 months ago, your life was so different. Your boyfriend was decent and working, Ji-yong was just your best friend and life was smooth. Now, your relationship with your best friend is more complicated than ever and your deadbeat ex-boyfriend was waiting in your bed, after he slept with another girl! You huff as you scrub your body, trying to make it feel clean after what you had just done. You notice a spot that looks like it wants to bleed and you stop before too much damage is done.

You walk back into your bedroom after your shower and see Steve is all ready asleep. Aftercare was never his thing. He liked to fuck and then sleep. In that particular order. You roll your eyes as you get in bed, thinking once again about how Ji-yong would be treating you.

He’d clean you up first and foremost. Ask if you were ok and then he’d hold you like if he didn’t, you’d fall apart; like he was some kind of glue for you. He’d tell you how good you did, how beautiful you are, and how special he thinks you are too. He didn’t treat it as a casual thing despite the arrangement, he treated it like you were his lady, because in those moments you were.

Before you know it, morning comes and you hear the sound of shouting and pots and pans clanging together. Your eyes widen as everything rushes back to memory. You look over in a futile effort to see if Steve is with you still. Of course not.

With your emotions clear, last night’s decisions are weighting heavy on you. You crawl out of bed and sigh before opening the door.

“Get the fuck out!” you hear Ji’s voice filled with rage.

“I swear to God if you fucking touched her,” you couldn’t see him in the hallway but you knew his face was red. He’d never sounded so angry.

“Look man she called me,” Steve says. Steve was good at covering his own ass, even if it was true.

“So you fucking came? Did she not make it clear she was done with you sorry ass?” you couldn’t help but revel in the fact that he was defending you, despite the tiff, it was really sexy.

“Well, considering the fact that moaned because of me last night, no,” you could hear the smirk in Steve’s voice and you heard a glass break.

“Fucking shit, man.” You hear Steve say and you walk around the corner. Your vison is filled with a trashed kitchen and Ji-yong has a pot in one hand and a knife in the other. Steve is hunched over, more cuts and bruises, you particularly notice one to his eye. That must’ve happened before you woke up.

“What the actual fuck, y/n?” Ji-yong asks angrily, looking at you.

“I,” your voice is hoarse.

“You want me to, in the middle of making breakfast this morning, hear my shower turn on and see your naked shrimp dick boyfriend in it when I go to see if you’re up?” You catch a glimpse of his hand and see that it’s bloody, but it’s not cut. It’s Steve’s blood.

“I’m just,” Steve points to the door and he limps past you. You rub the back of your neck with your eyes closed. Fuck. He turns his attention to you and you can see the absolute rage on his face. He was hurt, don’t get it twisted, but he was also pissed someone touched what was his, even if he’d been the one to start it.

“I mean, really? What the hell were you thinking? He was drunk the last time you seen him and he tried,” he trails off closing his eyes and he slams the pot and knife down as he remembers the sight of you in danger. It makes his blood boil.

“I,”

“Actually, I don’t fucking care,” he puts his hand up. You were now to the point of being the one upset.

“Hold on,” you shout as he walks past you still in his robe.

“First of all, you weren’t even supposed to be here today. You told me you were recording today.”

“Yeah, I canceled. Didn’t realize I had to run every little plan by you,” he turns to you his eyes full of bitterness.

“Second,” you put up two fingers, “You don’t get to be mad at me with the way I chose to proceed after the bull shit you pulled last night. Not mention, third,” you hold up another finger, “You said we weren’t exclusive and you,” you point your finger to his chest, “brought someone else home first. So excuse me for thinking I could do the same thing.” You cross your arms and put your weight on your hip.

Ji-yong’s jaw clenches and unclenches multiple times

“I didn’t bring home someone who treated me like shit and broke my heart,” he seethes.

“No, you’re right,” you say too calm, “I live with a guy who can that just fine.”

 He goes silent for a moment, the air between, you would swear you could suffocate in the silence.

“Was he better than me?” you’re caught off guard with his question. His voice is so low and calm it almost frightened you.

“Was she better than me?” you retort. You turn to grab a waffle off the plate in the kitchen when you hear him mumble it.

“No.”

You freeze, with a piece of waffle in your mouth, you turn a look at him, still standing there in his robe and bed head. He looked almost like a little kid as he looked at the ground. You walk over to him.

“What,” you ask as you swallow the waffle bite. He sighs and rubs his hands together before admitting this small truth to you once again.

“No, jagiya, she wasn’t better than you,” he’s looking deep into your eyes. Your face softens slightly.

“Really?” He nods his head with pursed lips.

“So tell me, was he better than me?” his lips twitch slightly. You look at the ground and tell him the truth.

“No,” your voice comes out shy and quiet.

“Mm,” he hums for a minute before coming closer to you.

“Did you at least have a nice time,” his tone is slightly cocky and you want to tear away any pride you can of his.

“Yeah, I did,” you say short and snippy, “I think you should change your mind about the studio today. It’s probably best you aren’t around me.” You say matter of factly. You start walking back to your room. And that’s when his girl from last night comes trapsing out in nothing but a bra and panties. How the heck did she not freak out over the whole ordeal?

“Oh, sorry I was just uh, oh, there you are,” she smiles shyly as she walks by you and gives Ji-yong a good morning kiss. Well actually she practically sticks her tongue down her throat.

“So are we going to spend in the day in bed like we talked about? It’s getting lonely in there,” she giggles. Ji-yong glances your way with sorrowful look at your rage is once again activated. He really had the nerve to get mad at you and she was why he wasn’t going to record? To be with some girl you were sure he didn’t know the name of.

“But Ji-yongie you promised,” you stand there shamelessly listening.

“Not today, I have something I have to do,” his eyes flit to you, “ I’ll get you an uber home.” She pouts and your fists are balled at your side. You go to your room and slam the door.

Ji-yong knew he screwed up, bad, and he wasn’t willing to leave it like this. You two hadn’t fought like this, ever. You two never really did fight, unless it was playful, but that was before your feelings, and bodies, intertwined.

He gives the blonde, who he still can’t recall her name, a kiss on the cheek as he sends her off in his uber. You walk out of your room in your clothes for the day, ready to get to work on the painting you’ve been working on. You catch him staring at you from the entry hall by the front door.

You walk into the small studio and give it a moment. You can’t risk Ji-yong walking in on your artwork. You were painting a picture of you and him, only it was becoming more abstract, much like your relationship. It started off as two people, you and him essentially, but as emotions came up and then got buried and the chaos of the last 48 hours came about, the picture began to have splatters of paint, lines through the middle of it. He’s painted in red and orange, signifying passion and love, what you felt for him. You were painted in colors of blue and gray, signifying your bottled-up emotions and the heartbreak you’re beginning to feel is inevitable.

Ji-yong pads down the hallway, not sure of what to say, how to make it right or what would happen next, but he knew he cared about you too much to not try and talk to you about it. See he never really slept with that girl, she did some things, but he never touched her. He couldn’t, she wasn’t you. That’s why Steve hurt so bad, he knew you’d slept with him, and you did it because of what you thought he did with the girl he brought home. He gently opens the door and shuts it behind him. He see’s you standing in front of a gorgeous painting, staring at it.

“Wow,” you grab at your chest as you gasp. You don’t turn around, too anxious to move.

“It’s beautiful,” he says coming up behind you.

“You weren’t supposed to see it,” you move to put it away but he tugs you back, your back hitting his chest.

“Well, now I have,” he says quietly. He feels something wet his arm as it drapes around your midsection.

“Nae sarang,” he whispers lovingly in your ear. You grit your teeth for a moment.

“Don’t you fucking call me that,” you say you turn to him, your tears being freely released. He shoots his hands up in mock surrender but you aren’t done.

“You really are a jackass, you know that? You really fucking are. I mean, you sit here and treat me like shit, leave me after last night and then go out and find some broad to fuck because I beg you for it?”

“I told you why what happened yesterday did.”

“Oh my God, Ji so I laughed. I laughed because I thought the idea was funny because of how fucked up our situation is!” Your voice echoes in the room. He nods his head slowly.

“And then you think you can just trapse in here, and act like I’m yours because you said she wasn’t a better fuck than me.” You move your hands wildly now out of anger. Maybe you should’ve been the one painted in red.

“Just go, get out so I can work,” you say with a sigh as you turn to grab your paint.

“What’s the red line for?” he asks curiosity getting the better of him.

“For the rift between us. It cuts us at our core because our relationship is fractured, Ji. Whether we want to believe that or not, it’s broken. And much like the paint on this canvas, it may be that way forever.” You explain with your back turned. There’s no way you could face him and say this. You don’t see the depression that twists on his face. The way his heart breaks to hear your words. Yeah he messed up, but he didn’t know he had hurt you this bad. This was supposed to be a casual thing for you.

“Y/n” he tries to come up to you, to hold you, to tell you that you can still fix it, but you shove him away from you.

“I think I’m going to need to move out.” You mumble.

“Listen, I know I screwed up, but,” he tries to reason with you, he regrets his choices from last night more than he ever thought he would. If he’d have known losing you is what it would cost him, he never would’ve done any of this. Yet he still can’t bring himself to be vulnerable with you, not completely.

“Ji-yong, get away from me,” you say through clenched teeth. He sighs and walks out.

You hear him slam the door to his room and you blast your music through the speakers and begin painting.

What you don’t see are the tears he lets flow. If he’d never of slept with you that night, if he would’ve kept control of himself you two wouldn’t be in this situation.

“Fuck!” you hear him yell over the music and despite your anger you can’t help but go check on him, you’re mad but you still love him. You stand outside his door and gently tap your knuckles against it.

“Ji,” you say gently. He doesn’t open the door. You turn the nob and to your surprise he’s laying on his bed. The one he laid in with her not 12 hours earlier. A picture of what they could’ve looked like tangled together enters your mind and you force it away. You don’t say anything, you just lay with him, putting your hand around his body, pressing him to you.

“Don’t leave, please,” his voice is hoarse, barely coming out above a whisper. He closes his eyes, silently begging you.

“Ji, this isn’t healthy for either one of us.”

“What do you want me to do? Tell me and I’ll do it,” he turns over to face you and that’s when you see it. The brokenness he’d been hiding. The pain at the thought of you leaving, at the thought of having lost you.

“It’s not that I want you to do anything, I just don’t think we can handle this. But at the same time things can’t go back to way they were.” You absentmindedly place a hand on his cheek and he closes his eyes, reveling in your touch.

“I’m sorry I hurt you,” he scoots closer to you, too close. Your mouths are inches from each other, your foreheads are touching, and you can feel his hot breath on your lips.

“Ji, we,” the tension is making your head spin as you notice his not so subtle staring at your lips.

“Oh, damn it,” you say in defeat as you pull him to you and your lips collide in a beautiful eruption of fireworks. He pulls you to him, pulling you on top of him. You separate to assault his jawline and neck. His breaths are short and pant like, his head spins from the chaos of the last few days and your touch. How the two of you could ever truly recover he wasn’t sure.

 You open his robe and trail kisses down his bare chest, stopping to nip at his skin every now and again. As you trail kisses down his stomach you see her face, again, and you stop. You look at him and he can see the change in demeanor.

“What’s wrong,”

“I can’t stop picturing it.” You move off of him and back to the side.

“I didn’t really sleep with her,” he says shyly and you shoot your brows up and look at him.

“What?”

“I mean she did some stuff but I never actually touched her,” his face is slightly red. You weren’t sure if you were relieved or more pissed.

“So what the hell? You just wanted me to think you slept with her to piss me off? Make me jealous or something?”

“No, I,” he rubs his hands down his face. Once again, an awkward silence fills the room.

“I don’t want you to go,” he says after a minute of stillness.

“I don’t want to go, Ji, but I can’t keep getting my heart broken.”

“What do you mean? How is your heart getting broken if we’re just casual.”

“Because,” you freeze before anything is said you can’t take back.

“Because,” you start again, “Even if it’s casual, we’re just using each other here. That’s fucking painful.”

“Like you used Steve last night,” he quirks a brow.

“That’s not fair,” you mumble, “You did the same thing with, who was she?” He shrugs his shoulders.

“Exactly, I can’t take being used by you.”

“By me?”

“Yeah, it hurts, it stings it makes me,” your chest is heaving harder now.

“I just can’t do it, Ji-yong. I thought I could. I really did.”

“I don’t want to lose you,” he says trying to pull you close.

“I don’t want to lose you, but I have to think of myself. Hell I’m the only one thinking of me, here.”

“Hold on, that’s not true. I was trying to wine and dine you, make you feel better about this whole thing.”

“You did it because you wanted sex, you wanted my body, Ji-yong. I know that all ready. Dinner isn’t required when you aren’t going to date someone.

“Are you saying that’s what you want? A date?” he ducks his head to peer into your eyes and you quickly glance away.

“I have a painting to finish,” you mumble and get up off the bed.

“Y/N,” he stops you from leaving. He pauses and takes a deep breath.

“Will you go out with me tonight?”

“Ji-yong, don’t do,”

“I’m serious. If a date is what you want, a date is what you’ll have. No sex, no strings, just a romantic evening. I’ll plan the whole thing.”

“Don’t do this to keep me from leaving,”

“Yeoja agi, I’d sell everything I own and give up my career to keep you here.”

“Do you even want to date me or is it just a casual thing?”

If you enjoyed and would like to support me, buy me a coffee

“Y/n,” he takes a deep breath, “I’m crazy about you.” You look at him stunned.

Tags: @loveesiren @natalicss @mashtatosworld @nerdydoll-com

[babybearnation]

OLLIE X OCON!READER!!!!! :D

i love how hyped we were about this idea in dms lmfao

ollie bearman x gn!ocon!reader

ollie didn't know who you were, but you were a regular around haas and you were stunning

sweet and kind and helpful, ollie couldn't help but fall hard and fast

finally, he worked up the courage to ask for your number and you happily gave it over, eager to befriend the sweet bear

you two texted all the time and you even slowly ended up teaching him some french here and there

this turns out to be a mistake because the french is exactly how he discovers the truth about who you are

ollie had been under the assumption that you were a member of haas' staff but you actually weren't

you were a member of esteban's staff

and his family

ollie had overheard you and esteban talking in french and didn't think anything of it until he heard you talking about your parents

your as in yours and esteban's

when ollie speaks to you next, he asks if you're esteban's sibling and, sure enough, you are

ollie doesn't know what to do now

him and esteban were like slowly becoming more like brothers but surely dating his actual sibling would ruin the camaraderie they had built

he tried to back off with his flirting but you were just as flirty as he was and you didn't back off

therefore, it made sense that he could barely stop himself from reciprocating, especially when it was so much fun

eventually, he decides he needs to ask for some advice

gathering up his best friend, kimi, and going to the two ferrari drivers, ollie told them everything before asking what he should do

they all said the same thing - go for it

but ollie felt wrong

it felt like he was betraying esteban somehow

and then he got an idea

what if he asked esteban for permission to pursue you?

ollie worked up the courage for ages before he finally asked

esteban had only laughed before saying it was about time - you hadn't shut up about ollie for ages and it was driving him insane

ollie worked hard to make it a big thing, only wanting you to have the best time with him

he invited you over for dinner (he promised to order takeout rather than attempt to cook) and when you said yes, he went out to buy some extra goods for you

flowers and a gift and even some snacks for the rest of the night

the date went smoothly and when it ended, you kissed ollie's cheek and asked him to be yours

he was upset that you took the words from his mouth but he didn't care for that much longer when he realised he was your boyfriend now

esteban was glad you two had sorted out your relationship but he made you two promise to not make out or show too much PDA in places where he'd see you two

you giggled at that and promised him you wouldn't before leaning in to whisper to ollie

"we have to annoy him now"

"definitely!"

© all rights to babybearnation 2025.

[wannabanauthor]

Now I don’t know if I’m trying to manipulate myself, but the more time has passed since the BuckTommy breakup, the more I’m excited for potential messiness if Tommy comes back.

Note: this only applies to the potential of Tim and the writers getting them back together. If Tommy never comes back, fuck everyone and their momma.

Buck is one of the main characters and Tommy isn’t, so the relationship looking one-sided could be practical or intentional. We don’t know at this point.

But I feel like Tommy maybe fell in love with Buck and didn’t realize it until it was too late, and the best thing he could do for himself was to walk away.

Because as much as Tommy tries to be honest and realistic with Buck, he’s the one who charmed the pants off Buck. Tommy made the first official move, and then the second, and gave things another try with Buck, and was consistently acting like a perfect boyfriend.

My thought process is “why not husband if husband-shaped?” Tommy was putting forth this persona of a good partner, and then pulled away once Buck felt comfortable moving things forward.

And that’s what gets me angry. Tommy intentionally sought Buck out after the basketball game, kissed him, asked him out, then gave Buck a second try, dated him for 6+ months, then ended things.

My point is Tommy was going beyond what he needed to be a good boyfriend, and yet he was surprised that Buck held him to that and wanted to be more serious.

It’s probably just the writing, but it irritates me that they went from talking about deep personal stuff in Season 7 to not even knowing each other’s sexuality, exes, or that Buck dislikes basketball in Season 8.

And as always I completely forget what the point of this post is. Oh, yeah, potential messiness.

Because what if post-breakup, Buck and Tommy start hooking up with no strings attached. Buck thinks it’s a good idea because he can at least be with Tommy in some way, and what if Tommy feels the exact same way. They could both be pining for each other while also piping each other.

Hell, we could even throw in an old cliche trope of “no kissing” because kissing could be a sign of intimacy, and they’re not ready for that.

And maybe it makes for some comedic scenes in the show. Maybe Buck and Tommy are trying to avoid anyone else finding out, but the FireFam are suspicious that Buck has stopped talking about Tommy altogether after pining for weeks.

Even better, what if Buck and Tommy run into each other at Eddie’s farewell house party? And everyone assumes it’s going to be awkward because they don’t know that Buck and Tommy are still fucking.

And once Buck and Tommy barely interact with each other at the gathering, the FireFam now have some circumstantial evidence about the two of them. Their suspicions grow when they see Buck and Tommy actively avoiding each other, and it’s not the usual type of avoiding the ex scenario.

So maybe a day or two later in a non-Buck group chat, Eddie is happy that Buck and Tommy can be together in the same room with no drama. Only for Hen and Chimney to rain on his parade with the texts saying something like “they’ve been secretly seeing each other since the breakup”, but they don’t know the details.

So one day, Eddie tries to bring it up by inviting Tommy and Buck to a Zoom call. Eddie says “hey, the rest of the gang thinks you’re dating again, so you might want to set that straight for them before it spirals into a thing”

And Buck and Tommy are dead silent, and Eddie realizes. “No way, you couldn’t have told me?!”

“Well, we’re not dating,” Tommy says.

Buck is a little hurt but it’s the truth.

So Eddie says “if you’re hooking up, you might as well date again. Same perks plus cuddles and spending time with each other.”

Tommy abruptly leaves the Zoom, and Buck looks like he might cry. Eddie tries to cheer him up, but Buck starts crying.

Then Buck hears someone knocking on his door. It’s Tommy. Eddie’s still on Zoom, so he gets to watch and record them deciding to get back together. Win-win for everyone.

[thevoicefromanotherworld]

Hey 🥰 Would you also do a Bucky imagine for me where his girlfriend is by his side during the events at Falcon & Winter Soldier and Sharon is being a bitch to her all the time but Bucky stands up for his girl and does everything to make the Mission go over fast. Later then at Zemos safehouse Bucky shows the reader that she's his girl and she forgets everything Sharon did when he's with him ?

Omg did this make sense ? English is also not my first language so I hope this is okay with you 😊

Of course, thank you so much for your request! @imagine-all-the-fandoms

First of all, I have to say that it's been quite a while since I watched the Falcon and the Winter Soldier series, so I don't really remember what happened in the series, so I apologize if some things don't add up, (I've tried my best with what I remembered)

Also, as you say English isn't your first language either. Can I ask what it is? (just out of curiosity, you don't have to answer if you don't want to)

I hope you like the fic!

"TILL THE END OF THE LINE"

You knew that this situation wasn't being easy for anyone, but especially for the super-soldier.

The fact that Walker was doing all those horrible actions while wearing Steve's shield as an emblem was something that was testing his patience.

-It's okay, Buck - you whispered, leaving a loving kiss on his cheek, letting him know that you were by his side, and that you weren't going anywhere- you're stronger than him in every way, we can handle him

-That's something Steve would say - he murmured, giving you a smile a little more animated- thanks, doll

-Oh, for the love of God - Sharon growled, who was standing in front of a table looking at some plans- leave it already, you disgust me - she joked, but you didn't like the joke at all-

-It's not my fault that nobody loves you - you spat- the fact that you say that comment only proves it

-We all know the reason why you're with him - she spat with disdain, holding your gaze firmly- for the same reason as all of us, it's clear - she looked you up and down - I should have imagined that you weren't going to be different

-That's enough, Sharon - he ordered Sergeant, his authoritative and hoarse voice made her shut up instantly, turning her gaze on him- you are nobody to interfere in our relationship, and although I do not approve of what y/n said - he said looking at you for a moment before looking at the blonde- Have you not considered finding yourself a boyfriend, or someone to help you release all that stress you carry inside? - he questioned- I did, and now I'm doing well

Sharon looked between the soldier and you, before pressing her lips tightly together in anger

-You know what? Go fuck yourself, Barnes - she growled, opening the door to leave the room, as if she were a child who had thrown a tantrum-

When he was gone, you looked at your boyfriend, who had an expression somewhere between serious and amused on his face.

-You didn't have to do it - you murmured - defend me I mean

-I know - he whispered pulling your hand so you sat on his lap - but I'm your boyfriend, honey - he said as if you didn't remember - I felt it was my duty

You turned your head to leave a loving kiss on his lips, which he accepted moving slightly against you before separating.

After that they had to go complete a mission, which was carried out successfully, even though Sharon kept messing with you. It seemed that nothing you did was good for her: that if when you shot you didn't reload fast enough, or when you fought with someone you should take less time to knock them out, that kind of thing.

Every time he made a comment like that, Bucky always came to your defense, making you smile.

Later, when you arrived at one of the safe houses that Zemo had in the area, Bucky gave a couple of soft knocks on the bathroom door where he knew you were.

-Come in – you said, he opened the door and closed it behind him- His gaze connected with yours for a moment, while you wiped the blood (that wasn't yours) from your face.

Your eyes connected through the mirror, and when you finished you turned to look at him.

-What's wrong?

-Nothing – he murmured – Does something have to happen?

-You have that look on your face

-What look?

-The look you have when you want to tell me something, but you don't know if it's the right time – you said making him smile, it would never stop surprising him that you knew him so well-

-I wanted to apologize for what Sharon said to you – he said surprising you – you know that all those things aren't true, right? I'm not with you for the sake of the mission, and I don't think he's treating you like you're just another girl either - he explained - I wanted to tell you not to pay attention to anything he said, because the main reason you're the one here with me and not someone else is because I love you - he said making you take a deep breath, he had never said it to you with words until that moment -

Bucky was not a person who showed his feelings lightly.

His way of expressing, in this case his love for you, was to leave you his favorite blanket when you went to sleep, or when you had breakfast he made sure the curtains weren't too high, since he knew you didn't like the sun shining in your face when you got up in the morning, that kind of thing, so the fact that he was in front of you at that moment telling you in person meant a lot, both to him and to you.

-Me too, I love you, Buck -you whispered- and of course I don't believe anything she said -you murmured, holding his face in your hands- I know what you're really like, that's why I know you wouldn't say those things

He placed a lock of your hair behind your ear, his metal fingers in contact with the skin of your lobe making you arch towards him. He left a kiss on your forehead, before sliding to your lips as he said:

-Thank you for staying by my side -he whispered, kissing the tip of your nose-

-I'm with you till the end of the line, Buck -you replied before he kissed you again-

[oatmealwrites]

A Night To...Forget? Ch.6

Aizawa x Eidetic memory! Law student! F Reader

Part 5 | Part 7 -> coming soon!

[a night to forget masterlist here]

Synopsis: You take up Shōta’s offer on crashing at his place as you wait for either Kiego or maintenance to be available in the morning to let you back into your apartment. Though the extremely clean state of Shōta’s flat is enough to make you raise an eyebrow. Ok, maybe he didn't plan on having you locked out, but it certainly seems he was well prepared just in case any company happened to come over. ;)

Tags: reader is a little tipsy but not too bad, insecure shota, jealous shota, french kissing, hickies, students being a cockblock, use of quirks, oral (m & f receiving), fingering, slight cum eating, titty sucking, protected! sex, p in v, multiple rounds, missionary, doggy, mating press, shower sex, cockdrunk, pussy drunk, horny & kinky ass shota, fluff ending, still a situationship, kayama being sneaky hehe, 18+, MDNI

word count: 11.7k [im so sorry] also not entirely proofread so im sorry if the grammar/spelling is off a bit

a/n at the end: enjoy~

~~~~~~~

“You can stay with me tonight, if you want.” 

You look up from your phone the moment the words leave his lips and raise your eyebrows in shock. Shōta’s face flushes slightly and he searches your face for a few moments before sitting back in the driver’s seat and running an embarrassed hand along the back of his neck.

“N-Not like that– I didn’t take you out to dinner just to…” His voice drops a bit and he coughs slightly before speaking again with more confidence. “I don’t want you to think I’m simply offering because I want to have sex with you, y/n. I want to make sure you're safe, and not sitting on the floor of your apartment lobby all night.”

Blinking a few times, the phone screen goes dim from your lack of interaction and you gently gulp the surprise that lingers in your throat. It did sound better than waiting for Keigo or maintenance to let you inside… Though this was probably Keigo’s stupid plan all along. 

Maybe it’s the alcohol or simply just the amazing date this man has already taken you on, but you tilt your head and smile gently. “I understand… if it’s ok with you, then yes. Yes, I’d like to stay over.”

Shōta’s expression softens and he bites the inside of his cheek to avoid the cheeky smirk that wants to splay across his lips; it’s also to reign himself in when his cock twitches slightly in his trousers. He grips the steering wheel and takes a  deep breath, “Alright… then let’s head back to my place.”

The car slowly leaves the parking lot and drifts back to a main road with light evening traffic making the journey just a little longer. Within your spot at the passenger seat, the atmosphere of the car is a bit heavier than before as the radio idly plays in the background. Shōta keeps his eyes painfully respectful at the road ahead, not bothering to tear his gaze away; a complete 180 from the way he drove you to the restaurant with his focus barely on driving the vehicle. 

Sure, it’s a big step– you two haven’t even completed one date yet and now you’re spending the night at his apartment. You reign yourself in slightly and watch the whir of streetlights that pass by outside the window, it’s not like you two were inherently going to be doing anything explicitl anyways. The whole point of staying over was a pity invitation to make up for your lack of house keys and idiotic best friend who ensured you would be locked out. 

Rationally speaking, you should be feeling awkward. A work colleague who you’ve kissed a few times and took you to dinner is now letting you crash on his couch– it’s the perfect situation for you to never show your face around him again from the mortification. But you’re not. Maybe it’s the alcohol, months of not getting any action, or just the dashing man driving you, but you’re relaxing into this situation a lot easier than you expect. 

“Shōta.” You call out, positioning yourself to face him.

He blinks and deftly turns the car down another road. “Hm?”

“Why are you so nervous?”

Shōta pauses and holds the air in his lungs an extra moment before finally turning his attention to you. He glances down at you beside him before peeling his eyes away as soon as his gaze had reached the section of your dress neckline that was dipped just a bit too low. 

“I’m not… I just don’t want you to get the wrong idea about me.”

You hum and tap a nail against the car console and shrug before smiling and leaning over to his side a bit more. “I’m not. In all honesty, I've had a really great evening so far; you’ve been a total gentleman.”

A buzz rushes through your skin and you can feel the heat of your cheeks flushing from the heightened blood alcohol content coursing through your veins. The man at the wheel looks back down at you before scrunching his brows with a conflict expression and looking back at the wheel.

When he doesn’t respond, you lift yourself upright and place a hand on his bicep. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

Shōta sighs slightly and gently begins breaking for the line of cars stopped ahead. “I shouldn’t have let you drink so much…especially in this situation.”

You blink and take your hand from his arm. Had you not already said you were ‘ok’ with his invitation? Shōta continues to be at war with himself inside his mind, as if he was doomed regardless of what he did. There was no way he would just leave you without keys at your apartment, but you were also drunk, and taking you to his place seemed as if he was trying to take advantage of the situation. 

“You’re over thinking.”

Shōta pauses but keeps his head forward, his eyes not leaving the red glow of the taillights from the car stopped ahead. “What do you–”

“–I would’ve just had you taken me home if I didn’t trust you. Give yourself more credit, please.”

“But you can’t properly assess this situation given your state… and I hmpfh—”

You tug his chin to face you and connect your lips to his; it’s not messy and hot like the ones you’ve shared in these seats, instead it’s slow and gentle. Despite his recent shave, a few stray stubbles of hair tickle the flesh of skin on your cheek and you pull back with as much delicacy as you had initiated it with.

Shōta’s face remains hovering by your own as soft exhales leave his lips as dark eyes trace every detail of your expression. He’s silent when he removes his hands from the wheel and snakes one to cup your cheek and the other to rest at the space where your ribs meet your waist; immediately he leans to meet your lips again. 

The moment is dissolved of awkward tension as he pecks your lips over and over again as if he were scared that too much pressure would break you like porcelain. You bring a hand to rest flat against his chest above his heart and meet every rhythmic wave of his lips, eager to taste the lingering bitterness of wine on his mouth. 

After a few more gentle pecks he peels back to scan your eyes again, his own pupils blown wide, before leaning down to kiss you with more force and longing. Shōta’s hands remain in their position, but his tongue runs a testing swipe across your lips before slithering into your mouth and groaning from the mixture of wine, breath mints, and honey lip gloss that he tastes. 

God, it’s so hot. You grip the fabric of his jacket and button up with fervor and arch slightly as arousal tingles down your spine and pools in your core. The panties under your dress have been soaked ever since you first stepped in the car hours ago, and now they’re fully saturated and leave a slick between the plush cushion of your thighs. 

This kiss, his tongue suffocating you of all air while you rock and sway for more, more, more is one you’ve had before– but this setting changes the intensity. Shōta’s hand slips down to the inward curve of your waist before dropping down even further to play with the bottom hemline of your dress. 

It would be so easy to lift it up even 2 more inches and get full access to the flimsy fabric of panties covering your dripping cunt. And with a gentle graze, he pinches the fabric of the hem between his thumb and index finger before a ‘BEEEEEEP’ rings out from behind you both.

Peeling backwards, Shōta peers into the rearview mirror momentarily before realizing the traffic has begun to move ahead of him. With a sheepish cough, he moves his foot from the brake to accelerator and continues the drive while you pant slightly and scowl at the cockblock car behind you through the back window. 

Shōta laughs slightly and nudges you to spin back around and face forward again; you hesitantly move back into your original position and note the lighter atmosphere of the car. Admiring the man for a few extra moments, you reach over to grab one hand from the wheel and intertwine it with your own, taking note of every callous, bump, and freckle that adorns the skin. As well as the extremely large size of it. 

Shōta doesn’t say anything, but watches you play with his fingers and knuckles through the corner of his eye with an amused smile. The crease of his life line is long, his ring finger is slightly bent– maybe from previously breaking it, and his middle finger is the longest. Dirty thoughts come and go as you examine it for a few more moments before setting it on your upper thigh and placing your own hand over it to ensure he won’t move it away. 

He doesn’t. The soft and plush flesh of your thigh is pinched a few times as he runs his fingertips over the skin to accommodate himself with the sensation; he toys with your hemline and thigh in the same playful and gentle manner you had just done to his hand. 

“Mmm, do you have a TV? We can start that reality show I was talking about at dinner.” You suggest while tapping on his knuckles and becoming quickly addicted to the sensation of his skin against yours. 

Shōta chuckles and turns down another road; the city lights slowly thinning out as you get closer to his apartment. “Oh, yea? You want to watch it that bad?”

You suck in your bottom lip and flush a bit before turning your attention back to the hand on your thigh. The length from the base of the palm to the tip of the middle finger can nearly envelop the entire top of your leg from the sheer size; it leaves you wondering how it would feel inside you– how something else might feel. 

Nipples hard through your dress, your cunt gushes again in a desperate desire that leaves you wondering if you’ve ever been more horny in your life. You need this man. You need this man badly.

“Yea… I think it would be cute to start a show together. Besides, I’m locked out till morning anyways.” You tilt your head back up and blink a few times, putting to use any of the flirting skills you’ve managed to acquire in your life. 

“Starting a series together sounds like quite a commitment. You sure that’s something you want?” He hums before turning back to the road.

Ah, right. That was the other goal you have for the evening– to get some sort of definition of what this currently was. The alcohol makes you complacent for anything if it means you would get him in bed, though your heart tugs that while for tonight, sex would be satisfactory, there’s more than his warmth in the sheets that you want. 

“It is.” You confess, the underlying implication that this wasn’t an evening you only wanted to concur once.

Shōta peers down at you and hums with a smile. “Me too.” His hand closes to squeeze the flesh of your thigh under his fingertips and you have to use every ounce of resolve to avoid tugging the man into the backseat and crashing the car.

The ride continues with light banter and flirty remarks, his hand never leaving your leg, before you roll through parking security and drift into a parking spot marked for staff. Ah, right, his place. Aka, the student dorms filled with rowdy high schoolers; somehow in the heat of his invitation and your acceptance that little fact had slipped your minds. 

The familiar tower of the dorm glows a bit down the walking path from the parking lot to the dormitories and stepping out of the car, you shiver slightly. Shōta shuts his own car door and uses the headlights as enough illumination to walk around the hood and shimmy off his blazer and swing it around your shoulders. 

Cologne fills your sense of smell and you tuck into the jacket a bit more from the intimacy of the act; everything he does seemingly makes you fall harder for him… in addition to raising your desire to him as soon as possible. Tugging the bagginess of the large fabric around your frame and offering a ‘thank you’, Shōta clenches his jaw and promptly spin around; a brief glimpse of the erection in his slacks now within view. 

The dark interior of the car shielded you from seeing much, but with the LED headlights of the vehicle shining on him before the timer flicks them off, you can see this man is just as pent up as you. Cock hard in his slacks, chest puffing with increased heart rate, and flush to his face not from alcohol, Shōta is faring just as poorly as you are given the tension. 

Taking a few steps forward, you sling your arm around the bend of his elbow and lean into his torso as you walk the stone path the dormitory ahead. Shōta knows this is probably the least romantic place to bring someone back to of all time. It’s filled with over energetic teenagers who scream and run wild and also his workplace by technicality. 

Shōta’s dreamed about this moment more times than he can count, but he’s never solidified the plan if he actually got to spend an evening with you. In the back of his mind, he always figured he would take you home, you would offer him a ‘coffee’, and then he’d take you as many times as you’d let him. Maybe the couch, then living room floor, eventually the bedroom, and maybe the shower? Running on little sleep has left him with a stamina only useful on the bathfield and the bedroom. 

“This is a nice walk.” You interject, looking at the surrounding greenery that bordered the simple pathway.

“Oh, yea… it’s not bad.”

You chuckle at his sheepish behavior and lean your head against his shoulder and sigh in contentment; Keigo is going to freak out when he hears about this– after you kill him for locking yout first.

You pause slightly, and look up at Shōta who holds your gaze with a comfortable smile on his lips, looking absolutely beautiful. You’ve always known that, but the way the moon lights up his raven black hair with a silver glow leaves you breathless as he raises an eyebrow and leans down to peck the top of your forehead.

Tugging his bicep to your chest, you lean further into him and smile, “You know.. You really are–”

“–Two more laps, Midoriya!”

Immediately you both pause and Shōta’s expression drops to one of deadly frustration. Releasing your grasp on the man’s arm, you peer around the open courtyard and spot a familiar head of green hair panting heavily while turning the corner to the same energetic young man with glasses you saw last time. 

You drop your hold on Shōta’s arm as he furrows his brows in annoyance and pivots to examine the small group of 5 students that stand outside. “Tch, I told Yamada the curfew was 10pm, so what are these idiots doing?”

Pivoting slightly to peer beside him, you watch the young man with glasses give Midoriya a hard slap on the back for completing some sort of training regime; Todoroki stands beside two girls, one with short brown hair and another with long black. 

“Seems like they’re eager to be heroes.”

Shōta scoffs. “More like eager to be in trouble.”

Teacher-mode switches on as the man steps away from you and begins to walk over to the group before faltering to an awkward stop. Right, he had you with him… late at night… and you’re both heading to his apartment. 

Dragging a hand down his face and tugging his under eyelids down from the force, Shōta exhales with frustration before turning to you. “Um, I can go deal with them but…” He works the words out in his mind, trying to find the best way to word his request. “Can you wait a few minutes and then go through the…back entrance? I can meet you at the stairwell.”

“Like some sort of sneaky fling?”

Shōta sputters and raises his hands but you laugh and nudge his shoulder. “I’m kidding. I’ll give you 5 and meet you at the stairs.”

He sighs in relief and returns your nudge, half-grateful for you not being mad at him for hiding you from a group of nosey teenagers, and half-exhausted from the emotional duress he was already under.  

“Thanks,” he leans down to peck your lips and gently give your shoulders a squeeze before turning to speed walk towards his students.

Pivoting to stand beside a tree and obstruct their view if the students happened to look over, you watch the way Shōta yells over at them from across the courtyard. Giggles escape your lips as you watch the way they scurry together in apology and frantically explain themselves; you can’t hear the conversation, but you can just barely make out their sheepish facial expressions. 

After a few moments, the group lines up and walks around the building towards the front door with Shōta in the rear as he continues talking about some sort of disciplinary warning for breaking curfew. Pausing an extra moment, you push off the tree and tip toe towards the back door as quietly and quickly as you possibly can with a bottle of wine in your system and heeled boots on your feet. 

It feels like how you imagine field work for heroes must be, and for a brief moment you regret taking up a career in an office building rather than patrolling the streets with your best friend. Padding across the lawn and making your way to the concrete back porch steps, you scurry up the final stairs and gently push on the unlocked door. 

Poking your head through a crack, you survey what looks like a laundry room to your left and communal showers to the right. There’s a hum of a washing machine in use and a gentle patter of a shower head, but there’s not a soul insight; you slip through the door the rest of the way and scurry down the hallway towards the first stairwell door you see. 

By the time you gently click the door shut, a pair of steps coming down the stairs towards you, leaves you rushing to find something to hide behind; crouching behind a large rolling laundry bin is your only option. 

Knees aching from the cold hard flooring, you cover your mouth to avoid the labored breathing before the cart is slowly wheeled to the side.

“You know, most people would’ve just left the stairwell rather than hide in plain sight.”

You raise to your feet as Shōta extends a hand and pulls you up, a coy smirk on his lips as you shove his shoulder back; he doesn’t move from his position next to you. 

“You could’ve announced that it was you coming down.” you mumble while ascending the stairwell with him at your side.

“Mmm, but if it wasn’t you hiding behind the laundry bin, it would’ve been strange.”

You grumble to yourself in defeat and continue walking up each flight with a slight burn in your thighs from the workout and an ache in your feet from the lack of proper footwear. Reaching the 4th floor, Shōta pivots to kneel slightly in front of you, “Get on. It’s obvious you’re struggling.”

Sputtering slightly with a bruised ego, you cross your arms and push past him to continue up another ungodly amount of stairs before an arm pulls your knees out from underneath. 

“Woa– hey!”

Strong forearms are cradled underneath your ribs and knees as Shōta ascends the next set of steps with you tucked in his arms. A grin on his lip as you nudge him with fake annoyance and wrap an arm around his neck to better steady yourself. 

“Mmm, my hero! Saving me from this villainous set of stairs, how can I ever repay the favor?” You joke with sarcasm as he tosses your body up slightly in his arms to reposition the angle at which you lean against him.

“Just doing my job. No need to thank me.” He responds with equal sarcasm as he quickly moves up another floor as if the weight in his arms wasn’t there. 

You throw your head back and tug his jacket on your shoulders a bit tighter before leaning down to his neck and planting a small kiss to his jaw line. Shōta shivers at the sensation and exhales through his nose before peering down at you with an eyebrow raised. “You always give heroes a kiss like that?”

“No~, just the ones I’m especially grateful for.”

Shōta chuckles and doesn’t release his grasp on you when he finally reaches the correct floor; he pivots to open the door with the hand tucked under your knees and kicks it open wider so you both can slip out and into the hallway. Long strides to his apartment door, Shōta gently places you on your feet before feeling up and down his pockets with a frantic expression.

Gasping slightly, “Wait, don’t tell me you forget–”

“–my keys?” he finishes the question before tugging out a keyring from his back pocket with a smug expression. “Nah, I wouldn’t forget that.”

Sputtering slightly and furrowing your brows, you follow him inside and wait for the door to click shut before pushing him with annoyance. “Geez, you’re such an ass.”

Shōta smiles coyly at you and removes his shoes before offering you a balanced arm of support while you kick off your heeled boots. When you’re back steady on your aching feet, he steps ahead towards his kitchen while you take in the layout of his apartment. 

“I’ll grab you some water.”

You hum and watch him click on a tall standing floor lamp in the living room before heading for the faucet. Immediately to the right of the front door is a small sofa with a coffee table and TV to make up the living room; on the left was a coat closet and small table for keys and miscellaneous items. The hallway continued straight into an open kitchen with a wooden table in the center and a set of glass patio doors to a small balcony. 

Padding further into the apartment, the hallway splits to another walkway on the left with two short steps up into another hallway; this one leading towards a bedroom and ensuite bathroom. The whole scene is small, neat, and comfortable and the air smells like a mix of fresh laundry and musky cologne. 

Pivoting back towards the sofa, you shimmy off his jacket and place it gently on the back of the cushion before admiring the nice warm glow of the floor lamp. The whole place is clean…too clean.

Every throw pillow is placed in a perfect position, every shoe by the door [except your boots] are neatly organized, and even the paper towel roll has been recently replaced. Humming to yourself and dragging a hand across the underside of the TV, you raise an eyebrow at the lack of dusting residing on your finger tips. 

“Here’s some water, it’s best to drink if you want to avoid a headache tomorrow.” Shōta offers a glass while returning from the kitchen and ushering you to sit on the sofa. 

Taking the spot beside you, he relaxes back into the cushions and rubs the back of his neck, “And sorry about my students, they can be a handful most of the time.”

The water is refreshing against your throat, and you take a moment to finish nearly half the glass before placing it on the coffee table. “Don’t worry about it. I’m just thankful you’re letting me stay here.”

“Of course.” Shōta replies, as if it was the easiest decision of his life and as if he wasn’t having an internal crisis about it in the car earlier.

Now that you’re both in his apartment, there’s another wave of awkward tension between you both as neither one makes a move to discuss what exactly was the plan next. Do you say goodnight and just lay on the couch? Or will he offer you the bed? Would he offer you a set of pajamas, or just leave you in your dress?

Sucking the flesh of your check between your molars, you reach forward to his TV remote and turn to him. “Well, would you want to actually start that show?” 

Shōta swallows and blinks a few times before nodding. “Sure, I’d be happy to see what seems to be so interesting about this ‘real housewives’ you’ve talked so much about.”

Chuckling slightly, you lean back into the cushions to pull up a streaming service and load the first episode of the most recent season; Shōta watches with a suspicious expression as the opening credits begin to roll. 

“Ah, I might have a few spare blankets– let me get them.” He rises to his feet and shuffles to his bedroom leaving you alone in the living room.

‘Might’

The word leaves a weird feeling in your mouth that isn’t just the overpriced red wine still on your tongue. Looking around the apartment you’re met with the same strange feeling as the word; something is off, but you can’t seem to place exactly what. 

Peering over the back of the couch and confirming he’s still preoccupied with ‘searching’ for a blanket, you stand up and pad into the kitchen and look around the counter top. Coffee beans are normal, a fresh paper towel roll is convenient, but a bottle of wine on the very end catches your attention– especially the two wine glasses placed beside it.

Taking the bottle in your hands, you spin the label around and blink a few times to clearly read the description in the dim lighting; you don’t even notice the set of returning footsteps as Shōta approaches from his bedroom.

“I was able to find one– are you looking for something?”

You pause slightly, but keep your back to him as you run a thumb across the label, “You bought wine?”

Shōta tosses the blanket over the back of the couch and looks at the women on the TV arguing and shrugs slightly, “Yea…? I got some last time I went to the store…”

“No, but you bought this wine.” You lift the bottle over your shoulder before bringing it back in front of you. “It’s the same kind, the same exact brand, and the one I ordered the first time I met you… the first time I met all of the UA staff.”

Shōta’s silent behind you for a moment as the argument of two women on the screen are the only thing filling the air as you idly recall the moments of this bottle.

“What–” he begins.

“–It was for dinner!” you repeat, seeing the memory clear as day in your mind. “You sat on my left at the table…. It was 7pm, on a Thursday, at the French restaurant across town…but I didn’t want a whole bottle and offered to split it with yo– ah!”

A cold shiver runs down your spine as the memory is torn from your mind and you’re left idly blinking and grasping at the rest of it. Placing the bottle on the counter, you furrow your brows and try your hardest to remember the rest of that evening before you spin around with an awkward tingle in your nerves; a pair of glowing red irises pulls your attention to the man.

“I can’t– Shōta!” You gasp while trudging towards him. “Turn my quirk back on, now.”

He avoids your attempts at pawing his eyes to cover his vision and tugs your hands together within one of his own. “No…” he grumbles.

Ah, so this is what was off. 

Memory or not, you look up at him with a cheeky grin, ignoring the reality show playing idly in the background. “Shōta…” you begin, “Did you plan on having me come back home with you?”

He pauses slightly and the pressure holding your hands together lessens by a fraction before his eyes flicker back to their usual dark color and awkwardly stare at a corner of the room. “No…”

“Really?” You tilt your head closer to him and survey the room, the tipsiness of your state creating a wave of confidence despite the submissive position you're physically in given the mass of a man in front of you. “Then you always keep your living room this clean?”

Shōta shrugs and peels his eyes back to you, unwilling to be called on his bluff. “I’m a clean man.”

“Right, and you always ensure to dust and stock up on essentials?” you narrow your eyes at him.

“I sneeze when debris builds up.”

Pushing even more, you tilt your head to his. “Ok, and you always buy the wine I drink, with two glasses out? Tell me, are you sure you didn’t plan to have me over, or is there a form of company besides me that you bring back here?”

Ah, you got him. You haven’t even seen the rest of the apartment and you caught on already. 

Shōta’s jaw tightens, but the pressure on your wrists is released as he brings his hands to his sides; dark eyes glance between your own. “Just you.” He quickly breathes out. “It’s always been just you.”

The admission makes your coy act falter, and the way he concedes that you are the only person he would plan this for makes your heart beat even faster. Shōta stands hovering over you, and for the first time since you’ve stepped inside, you’re reminded just how much bigger he is than you. 

Yes, you can act coy and tease that maybe he had cleaned his apartment in hopes of getting lucky, but now that you’ve played your hand, you realize you’re out of moves. Shōta breathes unsteadily a few times and doesn’t release his stare, “I mean what I said earlier— I didn’t plan to get you drinking and take you back here…”

He takes a few more deep breaths before stepping back and coming fully clean, “I just… you know– wanted to be prepared just in case something did happen. Not that I was expecting it.”

Maybe it’s a moment of clarity from your previously tipsy haze, but the implication of everything is crashing down on you, hard and fast. Here Shōta was, admitting to cleaning his apartment, buying wine, and most likely preparing himself for if you were to come back to his place. The meaning of ‘come back to his place’ doesn’t rely on the factor that you would forget your keys, it would be under the pretense that you were coming back to his apartment for more. 

A tingle rushes down your spine and you find yourself turning your attention to the TV screen in an awkward attempt to fully acknowledge what was going on. An awkward cough escaping your lips, you pivot to move back towards the sofa and pat the spot next to you as casually as you can. “Right, well… that’s uh fine.”

Shōta doesn’t move for a moment, unsure exactly how to take your usage of the word ‘fine’ before slowly moving to sit beside you and pretending  to care about what was happening on the screen. He sits stiffly against the cushions and opens his mouth a few times before pivoting to face you. “I just… didn’t want to give you the wrong idea.”

You turn your head to peer at him. “I get it…”

He raises his hands to attempt at wording it out. “Ok… that’s good. It’s not in my plans to have sex with you.”

“What…” you sit upright and a blush rushes across your face as Shōta peels back in frustration at himself.

“Not like that! I mean I would love to have sex with you–”

“Huh?”

“I just–” he runs a hand on his face and takes a moment to calculate if jumping off the balcony would be a fall high enough to end his misery. “You’ve been drinking, and you’re only here because you’re locked out, and my students are downstairs, and–”

“–Shōta.”

You take his hand from his face and chuckle at the embarrassed twinge of pink on his cheeks despite the stubborn expression on his face. Yes, you might’ve played your cards a bit earlier at calling out his preparation, but there’s one more thing– a phrase by Keigo of all people comes to mind.

‘He’s still a guy.’

Yes, because at the end of the day Shōta is just a man– not just a hero and school teacher– and you are the woman he’s been dreaming about sitting dolled up all pretty on his couch. 

The man in front of you sighs and turns his attention to the TV screen with a hardened look on his face. “I’ve fucked this whole thing up, haven’t I?”

You tug his hand to rest your thigh once again and tilt his chin to face you. “You know… you never asked what I wanted.”

Shōta swallows and relaxes into your touch, sliding back into the cushions and looking down at you with interest. Running a hand along his knuckles, you look up and continue. “You’ve gone this whole evening at war with yourself worried that you were forcing something onto me, without ever asking what I even wanted in the first place. You keep backpedaling and worrying that you’ve coerced me here against my will, despite the fact that I gratefully accepted your invitation for helping me out.”

Shōta runs a tongue along his lips and hangs onto every word you say. He was a gentleman all dinner, asking you questions and learning more about your interests, but as soon as his own insecurities bubble up, he can’t seem to find the rationality to simply ask you openly what you wanted. 

Eyes never leaving your own, Shōta tilts his towering frame down slightly. “Ok. So what do you want?”

A smile on your lips, you drag your gaze over the frame of the large man beside you– his physical statue engulfing you despite the fact he was wrapped snugly against your pretty little finger. “Isn’t it obvious?”

Your gaze dips down to linger on his lips before he races forward to meet your mouth with his own; a force of desperation you’ve never felt from him. Your hands reach to tangle in his hair and gently tug out the half bun while one of his hands holds your face to angle your lips against his while the other is squeezing the flesh of your thigh. 

There’s no timid gentle pecks between each kiss, instead Shōta forces his tongue into your mouth to run his taste buds along your own to drink in the flavor of your mouth over and over again. It’s messy beyond belief as saliva drips from the corners of your mouth and his teeth clink against yours once or twice from the sheer force of the rocks of his head. 

Biting his bottom lip and tugging slightly on it, Shōta shakily exhales through his nose before tugging his lip from the pinch of your teeth and running his mouth along the side of your neck. The sensation of his nose tickling the flesh under your ear as he sucks and bites on the pulse point of your throat mirrors the same feelings as when he would do this in his car.

But you’re not in his car anymore, you’re in his apartment. 

Sighing at the gentle nibble of his teeth along your neck before his lips find another spot to suck and mark, you tug on his hair playfully. “Hmmm, isn’t this where you stop? Just like in your car…”

Shōta doesn’t fall for a shallow tease and instead removes the hand that was cradling your jaw to entangle in your hair and tug it roughly to angle your head back; the increased exposure of flesh leaves him rushing forward to mark a new, untainted area.

The sting of your hair follicles while his tongue runs across a new hickey before his lips suction onto another spot leaves your cunt once again gushing and clenching pathetically around nothing. Slick accumulating between your thighs has your hips twitching in a plea for the hand on your thigh to do something.

“S-Stop moving..” he pushes pressure on your leg and leans down more over you to continue sucking the other side of your neck. “Couldn’t….” he pops his lips from your throat and moves to another spot. “Couldn't do this in my car…”

You wither in his grasp from the sensation and groan at the arousal building inside you for uptenth time this evening, “huh…nghh ‘this’”?

His lips trail down to your collarbone and Shōta’s kisses get softer until his mouth is hovering right about the low neckline of your dress; a flimsy piece of fabric between his face and your breasts. Peeling back slightly, he leans into your neck and inhales the scent of your perfume deeply before running a few apologetic kisses along the fresh bruises now painting your neck. 

“Tell me to stop, please…” a few more chaste kisses litter under your ear where your flesh and hairline meet. “Please, you have to tell me no…”

Running a hand to now tug on his scalp, Shōta doesn’t move from his position nuzzled into your neck despite the force tugging his follicles; he’d sooner go bald than move away from you. Sighing airly, you release your pull and instead place your hand flat on his chest, tracing the top button of his shirt. 

“And if I say, I don’t want you to stop? Then what…?”

Shōta sucks in a hollow breath of air and groans slightly while continuing to lick and suck the section of skin exposed to him, not bothering to answer while he attempts to reign himself in.

Unclasping the first button, you run a cold hand along the small sliver of exposed flesh and sigh when the heat of his skin warms your fingers. The atmosphere is too much, and it feels as if you’re melting from the way his lips continue their ministrations under your ear. 

Biting your tongue, you angle your vision as best you can, Shōta’s mess of hair blocks a majority of your view, until you see the tent throbbing in his slacks. A mind clouded by desire, you arch your back and push your tits forward into his chest while rolling your hips forward; his hand on your thigh prevents you from getting any closer.

“You said you wanted me to tell you to stop...” You mumble with a slight chuckle at the trembling hand that’s keeping you still. Pulling your hand from his small patch of exposed chest, you trace down the seam line of his shirt before quickling reaching forward to palm his erection.

“F-fuck!” He hisses from his spot at your neck before sitting back and moving to hold both of your hands back.

Heavy pants leave his lips as dilated eyes watch you with a predator’s stare, once again reminding you just how much larger this pro-hero man was. “You don’t know what you’re doing… you’ve been drinking and–”

“–I want you. How many times do I need to tell you to stop assuming things on my behalf?”

Shōta swallows and shuts his eyes in an attempt to listen to the variety of voices swirling in his head. Yes, you were telling him right here and now that you were attracted to him, but the nagging and self-deprecating voice within him kept pestering on. He was a high school teacher for fuck’s sake, he couldn’t give you an exciting life outside of monitoring a class of rowdy teenagers and drowing in tedious paperwork. He wasn’t highly ranked, highly regarded, fuck he wasn’t even good at communicating… so it was only a matter of time before you got bored and realized he isn’t what you wanted.

A part of him was ok with that though; so desperate for your approval that he would gladly take a position of ‘quick fuck’ or ‘rebound’ if it ment you would grant him even a fraction of your time. 

“Stop doing that.” You tug his chin to face yours. “You keep going somewhere…”

Shōta exhales and blinks at the way your hand had somehow come free from his grasp before stiffly tilting his head down; his cock throbbing painfully in his slacks. He could still stop this, tell you that when you were fully sober you would regret it, and he could live with blue balls and embarrassment.

“I’m just… thinking.”

You frown before cracking a half smile. “Okayyy, well stop that.”

“Huh–?” He blinks as you back up slightly and position yourself on the edge of the sofa.

Spinning to face him fully, you place a hand on his knee and rub it a few times before dragging your fingers to tap against his belt buckle. “Stop thinking.”

Shōta watches as you tug the leather fabric up and through the buckle before slowly sliding out from around his waist loops. “Wait.” He places a hand on yours, and you immediately stop.

“Shōta– listen. I want you, ok?” You look between his eyes and lean in. “Now, what do you want?”

The man breathes deeply a few times and drags his gazes across your lips, down the dozens of bruises on your neck, shamelessly across the upper flesh of your tits, and down to the plush round curve of your hips before returning to your face. “You. Fuck, I need you.”

The moment you’ve been aching for leaves a steady heartbeat pounding in your chest and pussy as his hands slowly remove from their position keeping you at bay. Leaning up slightly, you plant a lingering kiss against his lips before sliding to the floor and nudging his knees apart to kneel between them. 

Shōta watches with lidded eyes as you pop the button of his slacks and slowly tug the zipper down; he plants his feet firmly on the floor and flexes his thighs to raise his hips up, allowing you to shimmy the waistband down just below the swell of his ass. 

The sight is mouth watering, and you can feel your cunt pulsing in desire to have the cock in front of you inside already. But you take your time, awing at the way it’s pushing so desperately at the fly of the boxer briefs that the swollen tip is poking through. 

Gray fabric is darkened in a lewd patch of pre-cum as his cock twitches as you trace the outline of it through the material. Dark pupils never leave your figure as they scan the way your fingertips trace the length of his shaft, up and down, until you pry the fabric of the fly open just a bit more to let a portion of his length slip out. 

Shōta sucks in a breath at the change in temperature and wishes he could sear this vision into his memory like you. Looking back up at the man and ignoring the slight burn in your knees, you lower your mouth down to lick a small strip over the slit of the swollen cockhead; a hum escapes your lips as salty pre-cum lingers on your tongue. 

It’s an absolute vision, having him huff above you, completely at your use and disposal for whatever you wanted to do. Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows, Shōta reaches forward to trace the outline of your jaw before tapping on your lips once and sinking his hands into your hair to tug it away from your face before shimmying his boxer briefs down the rest of the way to fully free his cock.. 

Ever the gentleman indeed. 

You smile and tilt your head to kiss the pulse point on his wrist before ducking your head again to now plant a variety of little pecks along the apex of his thighs, the curve of his heavy balls, and around the base of neatly trimmed shaft. How convenient he just ‘happens’ to shave before this– not like you could judge though, you’ve prepared for this evening more than you have any other date in your life. 

A low grumble emits from his chest as you take too long and Shōta guides your head back to where he needed you the most. Smiling to yourself, you lick along his dripping slit once more before flicking your tongue to rub against his frenulum. 

“Ahh, s-shit…”

Fingers scratching your scalp harder, you take the heavy weight of his cock in your hands and lick the entire shaft to the head a few times to lubricate the flesh before opening your jaw and inching him inside slowly. Instinctively, his hips jerk forward to get even deeper into your mouth.

“Haa, just like that… fuck baby–”

The pet name isn’t lost on you, and you’re sure to asking him about it later; for now you flatten you tongue and ignore the sting in your jaw as you take what you can and use your hand to slowly jerk what won’t fit. Even if Keigo was joking about the ‘measurement’ hand motions, the exaggerated distance wouldn’t be far off from the length bullying it’s way into your mouth.

Heavy with a decent thickness and delicious length, you can feel tears prick in the corner of your eyes as you hollow your cheeks and bob your head. A few more rhythmic pulses and you ‘pop!’ the length from your mouth to give your jaw a break and spit down onto his cockhead and jerk him off with a messy handjob. 

“Oh my– FUCK!  D-Don’t stop.. Ngh please…”

Shōta digs his hands into your scalp before flexing his thighs again and jerking up into your dripping hand; you lick the swollen tip as it bobs up and down before releasing your hand and sliding it back into your awaiting mouth.

Careful to relax your jaw and avoid grazing the flesh with your teeth, you let him guide your head to his own rhythm when the flex of his hips grows erratic and needy. You work your lips with enough suction that you aren’t just trying to milk him dry, you’re trying to suck the soul out of him.

One hand leaves your hair and digs into the cushions beside him before Shōta throws his head back momentarily and pushes your head away from his cock. Your hair falls messily back down as a pout works its way onto your lips and Shōta grimaces as his eyes take in the fucked out expression on your face. 

Pupils blown wide, hair thrown around haphazardly, and swollen puffy lips that were just latched around his length are the only thing he sees before pumping himself a few more times and cuming. Hard. 

A gasp escaping your lip when he groans your name and hot spurts of semen dribble on your cheeks, lips, and along the upper swell of your breast from the low neckline of the dress. Shōta continues stroking himself through his orgasm with his head thrown back against the cushions of the sofa and twitching his hips a few more times as he comes down from his high.

Curious, you swipe a line of cum off your cheek and pop a finger into your mouth to sample his flavor; it’s more watery than creamy, and there’s a slight salt flavor that tingles on your tongue. The viscosity is a bit lower than that of honey, and the ropes of semen that litter your flesh begin to slide with gravity and pool at the bend of your collarbone and down the valley of your tits. 

“Ah, shit… sorry I should’ve… should’ve warned you…” Shōta pants out as he sits up a bit straight and releases the hold on his softer semi. 

You swipe another line from your chin and slip it between your fingers with a shrug while Shōta groans at the sight. Pulling you to your feet, Shōta pushes you to sit against the sofa before he rises to his feet and tucks himself back into his boxer briefs and pads into the kitchen. 

“What are you–”

“–I gotta clean up the mess I made.” He immediately responds, taking a fresh paper towel and dampening it before returning to wipe the rest of his cum from your upper chest. 

Blood now circulating evenly, Shōta cleans you up with a gentle touch before tossing the towel into the trash and returning with a gentle rub on your red and swollen knees. His face is apologetic while you take a few gulps of water from your glass; placing it back on the table, you pull his chin to meet your lips. 

On instinct he groans into your mouth, savoring the way your tongue tastes like a mixture of your breath mints, wine, and his own cum. Your lips chase him as he breaks the kiss to run a few pecks down your neck before spinning on the couch to push you back against the armest with him positioned between your thighs. 

Wary hands knead and squeeze the plush flesh of your thighs as large black eyes peer at your face, watching for any sign of discomfort. “Let me return the favor, yea?”

You blush and nod once before he gently bunches your dress to your waist and runs his thumb over your pelvic bones above the flimsy lace thong bands. A tongue wets his lower lips as he traces the material down to the mound of your cunt and drinks in the way your slick has saturated the gusset of the fabric to the point your inner thighs are glistening in arousal. Of course, nothing is ever easy and the thin material of your tights leaves him pawing at the waistband to tug down.

A few accidental snaps of the elastic against your navel, Shōta cuts his losses and pinches the threads to tear a hole big enough for his satisfaction. He hums a promise to buy you new ones when you squeal at the sound of fabric ripping and turns his attention back to your semi-clothed cunt.

“All this.. f’me?” he wonders out loud, dragging an index finger up and down the wet material along the slit of your pussy.

“Ah, y-yes…all for you…baby”

Shōta scoffs slightly at your tease for his pet name and peels the gusset down and out of the way; he had planned on pocketing, but those damned tights just had to ruin his fantasy– ‘he’ll just get them later’, he thinks to himself. 

Shōta shimmies to sit on the floor and lean against the base of the sofa while positioning your thighs to rest on his shoulders; hot breaths fan your cunt as he inhales the intoxicating scent of your pussy.

“Ah, so you have jokes now?”

A whimper escapes your lips and your hand tangles in his hair, desperate to have him closer to where you need him the most.

Long hair tickles the inner flesh of your thighs and Shōta keeps his lips just above your weeping cunt. “Come on, sly girl. Tell me what you want– you’ve been pestering about it all evening.”

Swallowing your saliva and any ego, you lean your head back against the armrest and wiggle slightly, “Y-You… please need you…Shōta”

Satisfied enough, though he would’ve preferred to hear you beg a bit more, Shōta plants a small kiss to the inner apex of your leg and turns his attention to the pussy he’s been desperately dreaming about. Laying his tongue flat and running a few long stripes over your folds and puckering entrance, he pushes his weight forward, addicted to the taste. 

The sounds are vile and filthy, the sounds of him kissing your cunt in a nasty French style before biting and nipping your outer labia and delving his tongue back into the opening of your core. His nose ruts against your puffy clit and your fingers are scratching at his scalp as the waves of pleasure are mind numbing. 

Pulling his tongue away, Shōta rocks back slightly and pops a long middle finger into his mouth before dragging it up and down your folds before slowly sinking it into your cunt. 

“A-ah! Shit….nngh…”

You twitch at the delicious stretch of his finger as Shōta watches your expression for any sign of pain before slowly rocking his finger in and out to a steady rhythm. Fluttering around his finger, he slips in another and massages the walls of your pussy in search of the rough little patch that makes your hips shake in pleasure. 

“Here? Right here?” he murmurs while scissoring his fingers against the spot over and over again and leaning back down to suck and lick at your clit.

You’re a mess against the sofa, biting your lips but not muffling the pornographic sighs and whimpers that escape your throat as the wet gushy sound of him fingering you fills the air. It’s better than your own hand and any toy you’ve owned, and when Shōta ruts his thick fingers against your g-spot over and over again, you wince your eyes shut and grab onto his hair.

“Ohh, fuck… you’re gonna make me cum… haaa I’m gonna..”

He peels his lips from your clit and keeps his pace on your g-spot even, coaxing you through the rush of pleasure as your muscles clamp onto his fingers as if your cunt could milk it dry. “Thaaaat’s it… come on baby you got it… cum f’me, yea?”

The deep pur of his voice has you cuming on his fingers and your hips rutting against his hand in a desperate attempt for even more; a few tears escape your eyes as the pleasure creates a mind reeling haze to wash over you.

Fucking his fingers into you a few more times to ride out your orgasm, Shōta slowly slips them out as you whimper and pops them into his mouth. He’s never been particularly keen on sweets, but the syrupy candy flavor of your cum is making him quickly addicted to the flavor. 

A light afterglow settles on your skin as sweat drips down your temple from the rush of heat coming from the moment as Shōta sits back up on the sofa and rubs reassuring hands over your pelvic bones.

“You alright?”

Alright, doesn’t even begin to describe the euphoric feeling, but you’re too fucked out to propose a better word. 

“Yea…” you pant before pushing yourself up to rest higher against the armrest. “You’re a little too good at that.”

Shōta chuckles and leans down to capture your lips and feed you the taste of your arousal in a similar manner you had with his own cum a few minutes before. He pecks your lips a few more times before leaning back and tucking a lock of hair away from your face and absorbing the glow on your skin.

“Well it’s just luck then…I don’t exactly get out much” he chuckles, eyes beaming gently as he stares at you with starstruck admiration and cum coating his chin. 

You giggle and sink into yourself before tracing a hand down his chest and palming his renewed erection in his boxer briefs. Shōta’s breath hitches slightly, and the insecure doubts that had clouded his mind prior have since been replaced with a dirty primal desire for more.

“We don’t have t–”

“–bedroom?” you cut him off and trace his bottom lip with your thumb.

Shōta doesn’t need to be told twice for that; he rushes to his feet, ignoring the dull hum of the reality show that still plays in the background and pulling you up and over his shoulder. 

“Woa, hey!” you squeak as he tosses you up once to adjust the distribution of weight and power walks down the hallway to his room. 

The view of his round ass is cut short as he flops your back onto his plush mattress and moves to kick his door shut– as if he had to worry about a roommate. Dark eyes don’t leave your figure as he saunters back to the bed and begins peeling off the buttons of his dress shirt; you watch in a trance before glancing around the tidiness of the bedroom.

“You really prepared, huh?” you jest, smirking at the way the pillows are perfectly arranged, the floor lamp is already on to a warm glow, and you can see a set of extra towels sitting on the counter of the sink of the ensuite bathroom. 

Shōta shuts his eyes and groans slightly before tossing the fabric to the floor and peeling off his slacks the rest of the way and kicking them off his ankles. You sit back on the bed and lift your hips up slightly to slide the waistband of your ripped tights to the floor and peel your soaked thong to join it. 

The man standing saunters a bit closer to the bed and assists in tugging your dress up and over your head, taking a moment to kick your saturated panties under his bed to retrieve later. Nipples pebbling at the cool sensation of being freed, Shōta doesn’t waste a moment to dip his head and latch his lips to the swollen nub.

His force has you laying flat on his mattress as he climbs over you and sucks the perky flesh while his other hand kneads and massages the fat of your other breast. The tongue rubbing against your nipple is hot and wet while sharp teeth occasionally bite; a wet patch from his boxer briefs ruts against your hip as he grinds his clothed erection into you.

Shōta places a few extra hickies around the swell of your tit before moving to suck on the next one, repeating his action of squeezing the flesh of the breast not receiving his mouth. It feels like you’re on fire.

Back arching and pushing your chest closer to his mouth, you whine and tug on his hair, desperate for even more. Ignoring the way you paw at his face, Shōta places a few more pecks on your tit and rocks back to slide off the bed and trace a hand down your thigh; silently, he flashes a gentle smile and moves to open his nightstand drawer.

And of course, there’s a box of condoms conveniently placed right at the front of the wooden drawer. The thought of him potentially doing this with other women makes an uneasy feeling course through your veins, but the sight of him biting the plastic wrap indicating the box had never been opened qualms your insecurity. 

Ripping a perforated foil packet from the line of condoms, Shōta keeps the box readily available on the nightstand and tears open the material. 

It’s happening. Fuck, it’s finally fucking happening.

It’s wrong to feel a little giddy, but the thought of you finally being able to have sex with this man after months of pathetic pining is beyond satisfying. 

As he kicks his boxer briefs to the floor and gives a few pumps to his cock, you lean over and notice a full length dressing mirror facing the bed. The angle gives you a view of his sculpted ass and chiseled back muscles, before the man in question taps your ankle once and climbs up on top of you.

“You sure?” He murmurs, planting delicate kisses to the bruised flesh of your throat.

You wrap your hands around his shoulders and nod. “More than anything.”

It feels like he’s died and went to heaven, but Shōta doesn’t wait any longer; rocking back to sit on his knees for a moment, he tugs a spare pillow under your hips and splays your thighs open. Arousal drips from your cunt along with remnants of your prior orgasm and his saliva and he drags his latex-coated cockhead up and down a few times to coat it thoroughly.

“Alright, just breathe…” he gently pushes in the tip and rocks forward. “Bit of a stretch.”

He isn’t lying. Your hands steady yourself on his rear deltoids as a slight burn pushes through you as he slowly sinks inch after inch into your cunt. Nail digging slightly into his flesh, Shōta slowly pumps in and out to edge his way deeper and deeper inside. 

“F-fuck… haaa relax, please… you're so – ngh tight…”

It takes a few moments before he bottoms out completely and his balls tap against the round swell of your ass; you both stay still for a moment, taking in the moment of being so intimately connected before he slides partially out and rocks back in. 

“Ah– mhpf… feels good.. Shōta” you moan into his ear as 8 delicious inches slip in and out, kissing your cervix with each snap of his hips.

The man in question fares no better above you, with one hand on your hip to guide your cunt back to his cock and the other supporting his weight as he hovers over you in a partial plank. Your pussy is hot, wet, and mind-numbingly tight to the point he’s wondering if it feels this good with a rubber, he can’t even imagine how it would feel to hit it raw. 

Though maybe you’d let him do that later. 

Later? Just the thought of being able to fuck you again and again has him about to prematurely ejaculate.

Shōta groans when you tilt your head to bite into neck and plant a few small hickies to his own skin while his dick stirs up your pussy from the inside out. The bed creaks and the headboard slams into the wall with the same rhythm of the ‘plap! Plap! plap! ‘ of his balls hitting your ass with each stroke. 

At least he didn’t share a wall with a student, because then he’d have to resign and never show his face at work again.

“K-kiss me…” you whimper out, tugging his face to look at you once more, almost sensing he was lost in thought during the moment. 

Shōta uses the short pause of connecting his lips to yours as a cheeky way of slowing down to prevent from cumming, though you have no patience for that. Flexing the muscles of your pussy around his cock, nearly feeling the swollen vein that runs along the bottom of his shaft, his resolve crumbles further. 

He needs to make you cum.

Pulling his lips from yours, he pushes your thighs further apart and stands upright with his knees; the angle now allowing for the base of his cock to smack against your puffy clit with each snap of his hips. Pushing your head back into the pillows, a wave gushes from your pussy as the sensation tightens the coil building in your abdomen.

You look better than all his dreams, and Shōta digs in his mind to think of something, anything to prevent him from spilling into the condom before you cum. Toshinori asked him to review a few files during lunch yesterday. The traffic leaving UA at 6pm today was particularly bad. Yamada wants to know if he wants to see a baseball game this weekend…

Tugging a hand from your hips and guiding his fingers to your clit, Shōta snaps back into the moment to focus on the withering expression on your face as your hips twitch and grind up into him further. Understanding the silent request, he runs a gentle circle over the nub of your clit and groans when your lips fall open to whine in pleasure. 

Tits bouncing with every stroke, your eyes hazy and staring up at him, and the delicious squelch of your pussy with each thrust is too much for the man; with a canine pinching his lip, Shōta leans forward and cums.

“Ah… c-cumming… fuck i’m cumming ngh–” 

His hips keep pounding forward, the tip of his cock that would be freely filling up your cunt with his seed is being saturated by the walls of the rubber condom keeping his semen inside. Right when he’s about to slow down, you grasp forward to scratch on his arm and twitch forward.

“W-wait! Please don’t…. Don’t stop– i’m gonna cum”

And who is he to ever deny you?

Ignoring the twinge of overstimulation, Shōta keeps pounding his now semi back inside over and over again; gyrating his hips slightly to grind against the rough patch of your g-spot with each movement. The sensation is overwhelming, and with a whine, your jaw goes slack and a pleasure begins to wash over you– until it stops. 

Fluttering your eyes open and panting as you come down from your high, you pause and bring a hand up to push sections of your hair away from your face. You just came…right? Removing your palm from your forehead, you prop yourself up on your elbows and watch the way Shōta slowly slides his length out of your cunt with a soft hiss.

Wait… what just happened? Did you cum so hard you blacked out–

Red irises glow above you and a small smirk is plastered on his lips as your eyes open in shock.

“Wait, hold on a minute…Shōta– did you just erase my quirk?”

The red hum of his pupils cools back to their dark color as the man slides off the bed and pads over to the bedroom trash can and tosses the soiled condom into the bin. You sit further upright now and furrow your brows in frustration. It was the best orgasm of your life… or so you thought. 

The memory of him pounding into you and leading you right up to the edge ends with an annoying blur as Shōta saunters back to the bed with a new gush of confidence radiating from him.

“Mmm, what if I did?”

“You–!” sitting upright, you shove his shoulder and sit back down on the comforter which is now soiled in a puddle of cum that’s leaked from your cunt. “Why would you do that?!”

He shrugs slightly in feigned ignorance before moving to tilt his floor mirror slightly and returning to the night stand to pick up another small foil packet. Sitting in silence, you watch the way he takes a few breaths and strokes his semi to eventually build into another full erection. 

Shōta leans forward and connects his lips to yours so sweetly, as if he wasn’t just fucking the shit out you to then erase the memory of the best part. Pecking your jaw once, he crawls behind you and gently pushes your upper back to go down into the mattress and tugs your hips upright into a doggy position; you're directly facing the floor mirror and your own reflection.

With a hiss, he slides on a fresh condom and gently massages the globes of your ass before once again, gathering your slick and cum with his covered cockhead. 

Shōta peels his gaze from the twitch of your awaiting pussy and looks at you through the mirror, “I just want to make you remember it regardless of that quirk....” he pauses and sinks in the tip through the first ring of muscle, “Is it wrong of me to fuck you so well that it makes even my erasure not work? That even without that quirk, it’s seared into your memory?”

***

His proposition of having sex so many times that his erasure doesn’t work on wiping your memory of the sensation is a horny and kinky one you’d never think a reserved man like him would have. You go from doggy, to mating press, and then when his dick is sensitive from cumming so much, he fucks you on his fingers twice more for good measure. The evening ends with an attempt at shower sex that simply results in taking you on the bathroom floor when you complain the tiled walls were too cold to be fucked against. 

Your body is sore beyond imaginable belief, and you can’t recall how many times you’ve cum because somebody can’t seem to let you. Despite the rough and desperate sex, Shōta softens when it’s time to dress you in his spare boxers and t-shirt and climb into bed. It’s a weird form of intimacy that feels more vulnerable than the position you were tangled in just moments ago; in the back of both of your minds, you’re wondering when the best time to have the ‘what now’ conversation really is. Though this late, neither one of you makes a move to address it.

He doesn’t mind when your hair still damp from the shower creates a small stain on his nightshirt; tugging you in closer and inhaling the way your scent and his merge together. It’s an awkward few giggles at first, before you nuzzle into his chest and plant a few soft kisses to his pulsing heartbeat while Shōta tightens around your waist that keeps you close. 

It’s late. The alarm clock on his night stand reads 3:17am when you shut your eyes in his arms; the both of you having work in the morning but neither one of you bothering to mention it. Your breathing steadies out before he ever does, and a few gentle combs to the crown of your head and pecks to your forehead make Shōta wonder if maybe this was a dream. 

The air is silent, and right when he’s about to doze off, a soft ‘ping!’ rings out from the night stand beside him. Normally, he would ignore it and return to his slumber, but the late notification makes him wonder if it’s something more important. 

Begrudgingly moving his hand from your waist, careful to avoid waking you up, he turns around and taps on the screen to see not a text message– but a date reminder. Blinking the drowsiness away, and clicks it open and sighs at the note.

Upcoming event from user KAYAMA: Friday 8am

He can practically hear the woman’s voice through the phone from the memory.

‘If you don’t make a move, I'm giving it to Keigo by Friday morning.’ Too tired to deal with it now, he tosses his phone back on to the nightstand, face up, and turns back over to sleep with you in his arms.

a/n:

it's the moment we've all been waiting for, the chapter where you guys finalllly bang hehe

this chapter, while it was pre-written, took sooo much longer than I thought to finish [almost 12k words of pure sexual tension and smut]

the story continues on a bit more from here, wrapping up the loose ends with more added smut scenes littered here and there [maybe one or two more chapters which is crazy to think its almost over]

im so glad you guys like this series and i hope this filthy vile slutty chapter makes you happy [and horny] <333

likes/reblogs/comments all appreciated :)

and i love reading ur comments, you guys are so fucking funny I LUV U POOKIES -oatmeal

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