#Tiniest tank top ever

[theirloveisgross]

Hi Jules,

I have a question for you. Which is the tiniest tank top Louis wore? Austin show or O2 show London? Although I suspect you will say Austin🤭 anyways both the tanks were so fit it hugged him so tight!

Definitely the Austin one but don't mind me if I make my case again.

They both did fit him very snuggly. I'll provide some visual aid (I love an excuse to look at photos of Louis (even if I don't need one)).

Here's the London tank top.

A fit racerback tank top that made his back and shoulder muscles look so fucking good. The sleeve cut was wide and low so we got to appreciate his beautiful armpits a whole lot that day (x x).

Here's the Austin tank top.

A light tank top that showed off his arms and collarbones. The material was very thin causing his sweat to soak through quickly. The neck cut of this tank top was so low, his tattoo was completely visible, save from the little bits (literally only one letter on each side) covered by the very tiny straps (x x).

Let's see how they fared on the barricade.

Now, according to the number of nipples and chest tattoos we can see after some hands pull on each top (I know a hand is blocking the first photo but there's only one nipple, okay), we can conclude that the Austin tank top was the tiniest and flimsiest tank top of them all (x x).

The Austin top was so flimsy in fact, that it ripped in half (x x). :c

And so... The Austin tank top was SO. TINY. THE TINIEST.

Thank you for your attention. Wear a spaghetti strap tank top next, Louis. Or a crop top. :)

[gumii-bearr]

thinking about... ❝ roommates ❞

featuring... megumi fushiguro

content warning: MDNI (18+), roommate!megumi, megumi is bad at feelings (who is surprised), subtle!alt!megumi, dick piercing (what who said that??), fingering, blowjob, alcohol

author's note: i freaking love this anon so i'm doing a drabble while i write the megumi car sex fic

── roommate!megumi who is super cold and dismissive when you first move in. you needed a place for college and your friend hooked it up but she neglected to tell you he was fucking hot.

── roommate!megumi barely talks to you, and when he does, it's brief and short and makes you think he hates you for some reason. but what you're really annoyed about is how attractive he is and he gives you nothing.

── roommate!megumi who is so fucking hot when he's fixing the sink or when he casually mentions your car is making a weird sound and he fixes it like it's nothing and shit– he takes his shirt off to wipe the grease off his hands and the man is sex on a stick with ink adorning his body like some kind of emo greek god.

── roommate!megumi who comes back from the gym in compression shirts and low hanging sweatpants and you're trying to focus on your college assignment but he's being really distracting when he lifts the bottom of his shirt to wipe his face, showing off his sculpted abs.

── you're starting to think he's doing it on purpose when he wordlessly brings you takeout or offers to drive you to campus when it's raining because "driving in this weather would be fucking stupid."

── but things are still weird between you and roommate!megumi because even tho he can be strangely considerate, he's also impossible to read. that is why you buy him a fancy bottle of liquor to thank him for letting you stay in the spare room.

── roommate!megumi who loosens up after a little alcohol, take out and movies, the two of you talking and drinking until well into the night.

── roommate!megumi who gets a little bold, moving some of your hair out of your face and telling you that you're cute when you get flustered because he's not dumb, he sees your sly glances and how you choke on air when he walks into the kitchen without a shirt on.

── but also roommate!megumi who is just as fucking guilty of checking you out when you come home from the club with your friends in a tiny fucking dress and heels, or when you lounge around in the tiniest shorts he's ever seen and a tight tank top.

── you operating on liquid courage and finally admitting that you find him pretty hot, "you gotta know i'm into you by now, fushiguro."

── roommate!megumi who thinks you're so cute, "yeah, i can tell." and he's running his thumb over your lips and suddenly you two are tipsy and clumsily making out on the couch.

── roommate!megumi who is so handsy, groping your tits through your shirt, grabbing at the flesh of your ass over your flimsy pyjama pants and manhandling you into his lap to grab at your hips and pull your shirt over your head.

── roommate!megumi who always wears rings on his fingers and they're so cold against your warm skin as he plays with your tits and pushes his hand down your panties.

── roommate!megumi who gets you off on his fingers alone while you whine and hump against his hard-on.

── and roommate!megumi who presses his fingers against your tongue until you suck his fingers clean of your arousal.

── and now you're sliding down his body until you're perched between his legs on your knees, his fingers tangling in your hair as he chuckles at your still quivering legs and hands as you reach for his hard cock in his boxers.

── and of course, roommate!megumi who has a secret frenum piercing. a cute silver barbell staring you dead in the eyes.

── and while you're beyond intimidated, you're fucking salivating at the idea of having him down your throat, but knowing you, you've always gotta be a teasing smart ass, "didn't take you for a jewellery kinda guy, megumi."

── roommate!megumi who chuckles lowly and sits back, "piercing isn't for me, baby."

── roommate!megumi who quickly becomes your scary dog privilege boyfriend and fucks you against every surface in your apartment like his life fucking depends on it.

author's note: and they were roommates (p.s. should i make this a series?? cus he got me feelin some typa wayyy)

[nyursi]

NASTY DOG. . .ᐟ

⫘⫘⫘ㅤmale reader, brat taming, size difference, age gap (around 20-40 ig), ass eating, yeahhhh,,, livestock guardian dog x recon cat reader!!!ㅤ♪ㅤ───ㅤwc: 3k

"Ow, ow, ow!" You yelped, the fingertips digging into your scalp causing whimpers. Face scrunched up— brows furrowed, lips pulled into a pout. Like a proper hurt brat. 

Dean meanwhile, had ignored your struggles and continued to drag you through the field, eyes narrowed. The sharp blades of grass (freshly cut) dug into your skin, leaving red lines to mark up your thighs. 

He had a firm grip on your hair, tugging harshly. Let it fall it out for all he cares. "Tsk. Stop complainin', it's hurting my ears." Dean huffed, pulling your head upwards for a sharp jolt. Relishing in the quick yelp that followed afterwards— echoing in the field. 

With no warning, he dropped you down onto the ground, leaving you to keel, curling up like a worm. Dean crossed his arms, large and meaty, waiting for you to get up. "I already told ya, quit whining' and get up." 

You huffed and rolled your eyes— getting up to stand. Dusting off any dirt and grime on your clothes, you crossed your own arms and gazed at him. Eyes narrowed. "What is your problem?" You hissed. "Why'd ya have to— to drag me back!" 

Dean rolled his eyes. "This is exactly why. Your attitude won't cut it in this line of work, for cryin' out loud." He pinched his temple, right between his thick brows, the lines on his face more prominent than ever. You did a really good job at making him age by the second— and he was already old as is! 

The old dog was the definition of loyal. Having been working for the ranchers since he was young. And now, with greying hair and decades of experience under his belt, Dean was the perfect mentor in their eyes. The hell were they thinking? The hell was he thinking? 

"Yeah, sure,'' Dean said. Not paying any mind to the farmer's request. Something about some cat arriving next week. He's trained a couple of their guardians before, whats a recon cat to him? He's the top dog 'round this place, second in command if you may. Any new faces got to deal with him first. 

Unfortunately, the pretty little cat they took in was far from easy. 

A hellspawn he'd called you. Not outright of course. Dean still had some decency left in him, no matter how much you tested him. But he did imply it, a more passive aggressive approach. Let you know he was really disappointed with such a brat to deal with. Huffing and puffing like some wolf 'bout to blow the hay. 

"Yeah well you didn't have to grab me by the hair!" He eyed the finger pointed at him, scoffing. Completely unthreatened. Dean was big, a tank that won't be moved so easily. That dainty little finger you waved around? Laughable. Course, he did stare at it a bit too long for his own comfort— unsure why thoughts of how easy it would be to just... handle and carry you around like a sack of feathers. 

"Boy, you're givin' me a damn headache. Recon cats are supposed to be— what? Agile? Quick? Behaved? Is chasing butterflies your job or what?" Dean raised his voice. You winced at the jab. He frowned, eyes softening the tiniest bit. 

"C'mon kid. The farm’s still away. We don't wanna get stuck out in the dark." Dean nodded his head to the distance, a faint silhouette of your new home. He trudged forward without waiting for you. 

You sighed, posture slumping. Yet you followed along anyway, dragging your feet on the ground. 

"Stupid fuckin' old dog," you murmured, plopping down on your bed. It was small and creaky, put together last minute. Much like your room. Pretty sure it was an old storage closet without the shelfs lining the walls to make room. 

It was dusty, and cramped. Reeaaal welcoming. Guess they thought a room small as this would be fine, considering you weren't that hunkering anyway. At least Dean gets a proper room. 

You sneer, feeling your blood boil at the thought of his name. "Who does he think he is? He's not the boss of me." Well... he kinda is. But whatever! It's not like you signed up for this anyway. Some boring countryside life looking out for barn animals and whatnot? Psh. Boooring! 

"Some big old hunk bossin' me around... hmph." You lay on your back, the mattress was thin and barely did anything to soften the rough wood of your bed frame. Pretty sure your back’s gonna ache quicker than Deans. 

A small snicker escapes you, lips curling into a smile. The image sends you a rush of amusement. Tiny giggles echo in your room— sounding like some maniac locked up in a padded cell with only his ideas to keep him company. 

Dean stops outside your door. Hand raised midway the air, curled into a fist. He was about to call you out for dinner, escort you to the kitchen so you wouldn't get into any more trouble. But your laughter made him stop dead in his tracks. 

He was dumbfounded, kinda. You sounded so innocent despite your... behaviour. Huh. It was almost cute. Endearing, even. Dean coughs, shaking his head. An annoyed frown tugged on his lips.

Ain't no way in hell. Never in my life would I... 

Ah. But he has already fallen for you? Slowly and surely, even if he was unaware. The day you arrived on the farm, all prickly like a cactus. He almost found it cute (he did). But he wasn't sure if the intense feelings that were harbored deep in his chest was a really intense anger or something else entirely. 

Something Dean had never thought to consider. 

Affection. 

Affection? For him? Dean blanched. He stepped back from the door like it burned him.The fucking cat? With his naughty attitude and god-forsaken defiance? Dean couldn't count how many times you stuck your tongue out at him, getting him all riled up. But fuck, maybe he did find it cute. So what? He's just a lonely old man, what's he supposed to do when the heavens throw a feline right into his arms? 

A feline that'd fit in them all nice and snug, with how small you were compared to him. That's the first thing that came to mind when he laid his eyes on your form. 

"Are ya tryin' ta kill me? That little thing's our recon?" Dean scoffed that night, complaining his heart out. "I don't know what you were thinkin'— what's he gonna do against coyotes? Wriggle and squirm?" 

And unfortunately, it had only plagued him more as time went on. When he was introducing himself to you— albeit begrudgingly. You were just standing there, leaning against the wall. Acting all smug as if Dean didn't dwarf you by a landslide. Like he couldn't just pick ya up if he wanted to, swing you over his shoulders. 

The thought made him a bit too excited. 

When he was tourin' you 'round the barn. Walking behind him like some shadow. Even his sharp ears couldn't hear your footsteps— feel your presence. Light as a feather, indeed. Maybe he doubted you too much. 

Earlier when he was dragging you on the field. Truth be told, he didn't mean to be so rough. Never in his life has Dean laid his hands on his juniors. But with you? It was an entirely different story. There was something about you that ignited feelings he didn't even know he could feel! It was a whole new area for him. 

But god. Temptation had been building up, and Dean was only a man who could hold on for so long. He'd lost control, when those sinful thoughts kept him up. Shame welling in his being for every lewd image his mind conjured up in the middle of the night, keeping him from sleeping and getting some shut eye like an old dog should, as you said. 

Gods, and how many times had you jabbed at his age? He ain't even that old! 

It only made him feel guiltier. You were a young thing— all pretty and shiny. Like a brand new chew toy for Dean to maul on. Sink his teeth into your pristine skin, leave red marks that'd prove his territory. (Territory. And this guy has the nerve to act like he doesn't have feelings for you!) What sounds would you make? If he bit deep and hard, licked up the marks afterwards. Dirty dog. 

"Fuck," Dean snarled, dragging a calloused palm down his face. He stood in the hallway, trying to cancel out your laughter. What was he here for again? Right. Dinner. 

Well shit, ain't Dean got dinner right here? Beyond that door, laying on the bed... 

He turned his head away swiftly, ragged breaths leaving his chapped lips. Chest heaving up and down. "No, no... calm down. You ain't feel like that—" Dean chuckled. But it sounded more like a pathetic strain. "Not for him." 

He didn't call you out for dinner, and he didn't eat either. But that hunger would get you both sooner or later. 

"Just... a little... bit... more...!" You groaned, hand outstretched. Curse these tall cabinets. It's not like giants live here! And what the fuck was up with Dean? He was supposed to call you for dinner! 

You actually fell asleep but that doesn't matter. 

What matters now, is the hunger in your stomach driving you crazy. The rumbles could echo in the barn if they got any louder. It was embarrassing enough as it is. 

Sneaking around, avoiding the creaky floorboards. Ears raised and alert for any and every sound made. What were you? A spy? You live here! 

"Goddammit, coulda saved me some leftovers. Even a grain would've been nice." You grumbled, sighing and rolling your eyes. Pouting at the thought of the meal you missed. Damn barn animals and their never ending greed. Not even a single scrap was put away for little ol' you. 

You were so caught up in your actions that you failed to notice a figure entering the kitchen, getting a nice front view of your behind. Huh. Why were you archin' your back like that anyway? 

Dean froze, mind blue screening temporarily as his eyes registered your ass all puckered out in the dark. 

He had given in to his hunger, forgetting about dinner after his... ahem, revelations. Curled up in bed, sulking in denial like he was about to be put down. Pathetic really. Since when did Dean get worked up over pretty kitties? 

Since you, apparently. 

He thought about it. Since you were their first recon cat, he didn't have much experience with felines. Only knew that they were playful, independent, and incredibly alluring. Dangerously so that when you've fallen for one, oh brother, there is no getting back up. 

Might as well dig yourself a hole in the ground to live in. 

Playful, when you gave jokes he wouldn't understand. Quick-witted, aren't you? With a smart little mouth that said all sorts of things. Curiosities and glimpses of your personality past the shallow image of a no-good cat. That twinkle in your eyes every time your soft lips curved into a smile, a triumphant "hmph!". You just loved being right, didn't you? 

Independent, always going off on your own. No matter how many times Dean reprimanded you, kept you from wandering too far. Curiosity kills the cat, after all. That's what he said, and that was the first time you rolled your eyes at him too. Wonder what it'd look like if he made them roll back for a different reason. Dean could only sigh and expect a headache to form whenever you weren't round the barn. Away from the fence and enjoying the scenery like some tourist. 

And finally: Alluring. 

As much as he didn't want to admit it. You had this charm that... well, charmed him. He beat himself up over it. But everytime he promised himself to stop— the obsession only got more intense. Every time you weren't looking he'd catch a quick glimpse. Admire your features, rake his eyes down your figure in silent appreciation. Whenever he entered a room, Dean found himself looking for you. And when you entered one? He'd feel your presence immediately. 

It was ridiculous, how downright bad he was. 

Maybe it was fate. Here, with you oblivious to his presence, arching your back and presenting yourself (unknowingly) to Dean. 

He stepped closer, silently. A shadow casted over his face. 

You could only widen your eyes and gasp in shock when two hands placed themselves onto your hips, keeping you in place. "Gah! Dean!?" You yelped, blinking at him curiously. Sweat built up on your temple, heart caught in your throat. 

"I wasn't doing anything! Just... looking for food, I swear!" You reasoned, still planted on your palms for balance. 

Dean only hummed, massaging invisible circles into your skin with his thumbs. "That so?" He said. You shivered. What the hell? What was that? Why did he sound so... intense? 

"What're you doin' up late at night?" He asked, brow raised. Eyes boring into yours. Had the nerve to sound suspicious, too. "You were supposed to call me for dinner, don't act surprised." You huffed, turning away. 

Dean only tugged you closer— hips meeting yours. Stupid kitty. Even now you have the nerve to act so high and mighty. Maybe Dean should teach you humbleness, take you from your throne for a little while. 

"Don't test me," Dean growled, satisfaction creeping in his blood as he watched you tremble. "Mh," he hummed. Yeah. You were tiny. 

"Test you? What the hell are you—" Riiip! In an instant, the cold air had latched itself onto your skin. Dean tore apart the seam in your shorts— right in the cleft of your ass. His tail has begun to wag, eyeing the cute rim staring at him. 

You were too shocked to make a sound, and even then, before you could react, Dean had dove right in, licking and nibbling at your pucker. "Huh- ah!" Your claws dug onto the wooden counter, leaving scratch marks. Dean slobbered up your hole like a man starved, saliva dripping down your chin. 

He licked and licked, made you dizzy til' your hole was nice and soft. His tongue was rough and textured, making your cock tingle and come to life. "W-wait, it's dirty down there!" 

Dean wrapped his hand around the base of your tail, tugging it upwards to bury his face deeper into your behind. Slowly, he breached your insides, licking up at your gummy walls. Your soft whimpers was like music to his ears. Oh, he felt fulfilled. 

But not quite. 

"O-oh..." you gasped softly, blush blooming on your cheeks. Dean was massaging your insides with his tongue, desperate and needy. His movements were quick yet deep and stimulating— as if he was looking for something. 

"Hnn!~" Your tongue lolled out, thighs tensing up. Unkowingly, you began to thrust your hips baclwards, meeting Deans licks. His tongue rolled onto a soft bud inside— a sensitive cluster of nerves that made you weak in the knees. "F-fuck..." 

Dean continued his assault on your prostate, never once breaking his pace. His eyes were closed shut, as if he was trying to savor the taste and feeling— keep this memory in his mind forever. His own cock jumped in his jeans, straining to be released. 

You were so warm... so tight. He couldn't wait to bury his cock to the hilt, make your belly bulge and fill you to the brim. Hump you like a dog in rut— fuck. "Uh... guh!" 

Dean parted himself from your ass, panting and heaving. Your rim was shiny with spit, legs trembling and cock leaking pre pathetically. 

It was silent for a moment. Until you heard a belt buckle, followed by a zipper and the sound of fabric falling to the floor. 

And then you felt it. 

Deans cock. Hard and hot— rubbing against your behind. Fuck. How big was that? It felt huge! You whined softly, fear striking you. But there was excitement as well, you had never done this before, and for someone like Dean to make you experience it... 

Naughty. 

You had been nothing but a brat your time here, but you couldn't deny that Dean was a good looking man when you first met. Tall and buff, yet soft. Hair on his arms and chest, a little grey in his hair. Lines around his eyes and lips... you shivered. God. What did his cock look like? 

What would it feel like, to take him nice and deep? 

You bit your lip. Dean continued to rub his length between your cheeks for a goodwhile, like he was easing you into the harsh fucking to come. "Fuck, can't wait anymore." Dean groaned, and pushed his tip against your tight vice. 

He held your hips firmly, keeping you in place as you wriggled. He was big! Your pathetic rim struggled to envelop his tip. 

Dean's mind raced as his hips rocked up, driving his thick cock deep into your tight hole. The boy was so small, so delicate compared to his large frame. Your slender body bounced with each thrust. 

"Fuck, boy..." Dean groaned, fingers digging into the cat's hips hard enough to leave marks. "You feel s' good around my cock. So hot 'n tight..." 

He knew this was wrong. You were his junior, and Dean was supposed to be disciplining you, teachin' you the ways 'round the barn. Not... fucking you senseless. But god, the way your velvety walls clenched around him, the sweet little noises spilling from those plush lips— it was too much to resist. 

Dean's balls slapped against your ass as he pistoned his hips faster, chasing his rapidly approaching climax. "Fuck, fuck," he snarled. "Take it." 

The lewd squelch of saliva and the slap of skin on skin filled the kitchen. He could feel you shaking apart on his cock, the boy's neglected dick bobbing between their bellies, flushed an angry red and leaking steadily. 

He reached around to palm your cock, jerking you in time with his erratic thrusts. Huh. For and old dog— he sure had stamina. 

Dean's thumb swiped over the sensitive head, smearing the copious precum. You let out a high, keening wail, back arching as his orgasm crashed over him. Pearly ropes of cum painted Dean's fist and splattered across the counter as your hole clamped down around his pistoning length. 

The pressure sent Dean hurtling over the edge. With a guttural groan, he slammed you back onto his cock, all the way down to the hilt. Bulging your belly. At the same time, he had bit onto your shoulder, breaking skin and leaking blood. 

Your body twitched, eyes rolled back and unfocused. You leaned forward, finding support on the wooden counter (now littered with scratch marks) as Dean massaged your hips. "Hah.. haahh.." 

Uncontrollable sighs escaped you, bones melting against Dean. Smaller spurts of semen shooting out of Dean's tip sent shocks down your spine, smaller cock red and spent. With your cum dribbling down onto your tiny balls. 

Sweat trickled down their skin, breaths heavy. Illuminated in the moons light. 

Finally, with a groan, Dean pulled out (albeit begrudgingly) of your warm hole. 

He watched, transfixed, as a string of his cum connected his softening cock to your puffy, well-used hole. The sight made his spent dick twitch with interest. Fuck, he could do this all night. 

Ah... but you seemed tired. He chuckled, eyeing your spent form. All sweaty and twitchy. Particularly focused on the bite mark that stuck out on your shoulder. 

"Congratulations, boy. Now yer a true, fully-fledged recon cat.”

this was supposed to be lamb reader but idk,,, let me see how this does first then ill think abt it :3 ALSO WHAT IS IT WITH ME AND CAT READER??? ffuckin cat burglar n heavenly,,, urg. So sorry guys idk. I just love pussy!!

[grimesthinker]

Stepdad!rick having a bunch of friends over for a poker night or something and you come downstairs to get some water and popcorn, wearing the tiniest, tightest pyjamas he’s ever seen. And ur unaware of the several wandering eyes cause you’re way too busy with your nose in a book, standing by the microwave. And Rick has to excuse himself for a moment to tell you to get back upstairs before he loses it and fucks you in front of his friends…

the stepdad!rick spam is EVERYTHING. i audibly squealed. i am in love with you.

you come down the stairs into the kitchen, a cherry lollipop stuck in your mouth and a book in hand. you take the candy from your mouth and smile sweetly to the group of men sitting around the kitchen table, stacks of cards and half empty beer bottles littering the scene.

"hi, daddy!" you greet rick with a kiss to his cheek. you think nothing of it. you're just being polite, after all. you skip to the cabinet and stand on your toes to reach the box of popcorn tucked inside. rick works his jaw as both your thin tank top and tiny pajama shorts ride up, exposing much of your skin. he tenses, gripping the beer bottle in his hand a bit too hard.

he loudly clears his throat when his friends' eyes linger on you for too long. your pretty bare skin, the way you suck on the lollipop as you put the bag of popcorn in the microwave. the men quickly go back to their card game, not wanting to displease rick anymore. you don't notice it. you bend over the counter and put your nose back into the book, reading while you wait for the popcorn to finish popping.

as rick watches you bend over the counter like that, lips sucking on the lollipop and eyes moving along the pages, he can't take it anymore. he gruffly excuses himself from the card game and treads to you, back to his friends so he can block their view as he admonishes you.

"what the hell do you think you're doing?" he asks, voice in a scolding whisper. you place the book on the counter and look up at him, head cocking to the side in confusion.

your voice is sweet. innocent. what a little actress, he thinks. "i don't know what you-"

"upstairs, now."

your eyebrows furrow in confusion and your bottom lip becomes wobbly. "but i-"

"now."

you know he means it. you do as he says, pouting and stomping up the stairs to your room. he excuses himself again and follows you, shutting the door and locking it behind him.

minutes later, your pajama shorts and panties are thrown to the ground, thighs pushed to your chest. you weep as his cock thrusts into your slick cunt, deeper and deeper. "m'sorry! was jus' being nice!" you cry, eyes teary and swollen lips pouty.

what a sight it was. you, the picture perfect embodiment of innocence, taking your step father's cock on your pretty pink bed while his friends wait downstairs. you whine and cling to him, moaning when his cock brushes against your g spot.

"open." he ignores your apologies and holds your jaw with his big hand, spitting on your tongue when you stick it out like the good girl you are.

he gives a slight nod so you can swallow, eyelashes fluttering up at him. your eyes are glossy, hands grabbing for him. he knows what you want. he always knows. he dips his head down to connect your lips. you mewl as he messily kisses you, nipping at your bottom lip. "fuckin' brat."

[hyperballart]

perv!art thoughts…

it began the moment he saw you around campus for the first time; you’re one of tashi’s closest friends and roommate so he knows he’ll be spotting you more often. his heart is still sore from the loss of tashi’s number, so he figured you’d be a good temporary distraction, but the second you talk to him he knows that ‘temporary’ won’t be the case.

all interactions with you are somewhat fleeting; greeting exchanges and some small talk, but it hooks him in more and more. he starts cutting up pictures of you he finds from the school’s newspaper from the sports section you’re in and keeping them in a small box under his bed. in one instance, he’d taken a picture frame from your desk when he went over to lend tashi his phone charger when she lost her own — it was a picture of you with a friend back home at the beach. he studied the way that tiny bikini clung to your wet skin, the small arch in your back, and your sweet smile every night before bed.

he gets so unbelievably hard when his mind wanders to you — which is all the time. when patrick comes to visit tashi, the four of you gather in you and tashi’s dorm to hang out. he always sneaks off with one of your belongings, small enough that you thankfully don’t get too alarmed of — his recent acquisition had been one of your used athletic shorts. he knows he should’ve thought this through when he knocks on your door and you open wearing some of the tiniest jean shorts he’d ever seen.

“hi art!”

he snaps out of it and greets you with a flustered hey before making himself comfortable. patrick, tashi, art, and you sit on the floor sipping on cold beers from the mini fridge and making conversation. art keeps zoning out throughout the night — he stares at your bare legs and thighs. he stares between them more specifically, at the way the denim is tightening with every subtle move around your thighs, he wants to rip the fabric off and kiss the red marks left behind better. as if on cue, you start to speak.

“—i don’t know where all my shorts keep disappearing,” you giggle as you adjust the hem on the ones you’re wearing, “i think they have to add cameras in the laundry room, i haven’t worn this pair since high school — god.”

art gulps as tashi replies, “maybe it’s just you at this point, this is like the 20th time you’ve misplaced something.”

the night carries on, art chimes into the conversation every once in a while and he struggles to hide his boner in his pants. he feels himself twitch when you get up and bend over to retrieve another beer. his head turns fuzzy and he replies with a stiff nod when patrick asks if he’s good.

he needs to touch his dick soon, he knows he won’t last but it kills him to be this close to you without his hands on your skin. he muffles a whimper when you get on your hands and knees and reach across between patrick and tashi to change the radio station.

you’re almost flush against his chest, he sees the way your tank top lifts up and reveals your midriff and waist, the dip in your lower back when your back naturally arches. he casts his eyes lower and notices the way your tiny jean shorts slide down a bit and tease a hot pink lacy thong — this one must be new, he hasn’t seen it in your drawer before — and he feels sweat building at his temple.

“there,” you sit back down next to him again as a rock song comes on, “oh god i’m sorry art, i didn’t realize i was gonna be in your space like that.”

“it— it’s okay, don’t worry about it,” he needs to leave now, “i actually have practice early tomorrow, i’m gonna go to bed.”

he says his goodbyes and you offer to walk him out, when you hug him he hopes you didn’t feel his erection. he quickly runs to his room.

he locks the door before plopping on his bed and immediately strips down. he spits on his tip and groans when he remembers the way you pouted when he announced his departure. he grips himself nice and hard — he bets you’ll be even tighter. he strokes himself upwards, base to head, and watches as more cum oozes from his slit. he sighs out your name as his eyes flutter shut and goes back to the way your thighs were bulging out of your shorts earlier.

“mmm, fuck,” he searches around under his pillow until he feels the stretchy fabric — your missing garment. he brings the crotch to his nose while his other hand frantically fucks his throbbing cock. he’s whining into it, the smell of you slightly lingering is enough to have him panting and really, really fucking close.

in his state of delirium he barely recognizes that he’s started licking and lapping at them, “tastes so fucking good, oh god, nnghh —“ he reaches down to his balls and squeezes them, wheezing out your name yet again as he glances to his bedside table where the picture of you in your bikini rests. he cums instantly in ropes that paint his chest.

[starkeyisthelastname]

stepdad rafe with a corruption kink

Reader is 18 + 🎀

He wanted you from the moment he met you. You were the prettiest thing he had ever seen, greeting him in the tiniest skirt and cropped pink tank top. You hugged him tightly, bouncy tits rubbing against his chest. You smelled fucking good, like vanilla and had glitter all over your curvy body. Your ass way too fat to be wearing that skirt. He was going to ruin you.

Rafe wasn’t one for family time, much rather being doing something else. You had then asked him if he was going to watch a movie with you and your mom. He couldn’t say no to those eyes, now finding himself watching some stupid rom com. Your mother had long fell asleep, leaving you snuggled up to him without realizing.

Rafe had been scrolling through his phone when he felt your head tuck into his bicep with a shy giggle. He looked at the tv screen on impulse, seeing that there was a sex scene. A mediocre, PG-13 one at that. He looked back down at you, snorting at the fact you were hiding from this. He was definitely curious.

“What are you hiding for, kid?” Rafe scoffed.

You blushed, looking at the screen again before looking back up into blue eyes. “That’s naughty.. Rafey.” You whispered, innocently.

Rafe felt his cock twitch as he looked down at your beautiful face. He laughed quietly, glancing over at your wine-drunk sleeping mother and then back to you. “That’s not naughty princess. When I was your age, I was doing real naughty shit.” He told you as if he was that much older than you.

Like the curious girl you were, you wondered what he meant by naughty things. Your heavy tits brushed against his arm as you turned your body towards him. “Like what?”

His chuckle sounded low and dark, his hot breath tickling your ear as he leaned in. “You don't wanna know, baby doll.” He whispered, biting your ear lobe before pulling back with a smirk.

It wasn’t but a few nights later that Rafe, had just got in bed, hand on his cock to jerk when he heard a faint knock on the door. His wife was out of town, meaning that the only person in the house was you. Slowly walking in, you noticed your step-dad wearing only a pair of boxers, the blankets pulled back.

“What are you doing in here, kid?” He asked, reaching over to turn the lamp on. “Isn't it time for you to be in bed or some shit?” His hand still on the bulge of his underwear.

You rocked back and forth on your heels, biting your lower lip as you hesitated. “I'm scared to sleep in my room tonight.” You told him, chin wobbling.

Rafe laughed, one arm coming to rest behind his head. “You are 19, and you have no problem sleeping in that room when your mom’s here.” He told you, cock hardening more as he glanced over your tight little body.

You sighed, looking down at your pedicured toes. “Can I just sleep in here, please?” You asked, voice quiet as you waited for a reply.

“Get over here.” His tone was annoyed as he moved over to the other side, leaving you his spot. You climbed into the huge bed, smiling contently as you felt better now. He let you pick something to watch, as he tried to decide if he wanted to go to the bathroom to rub one out. That wouldn't be as fun though as ruining your little self in the same bed he shared with your mother.

“You know it's too bad you are scared, acting innocent and shit. Good girls like you don’t need to be told naughty things.” He said, making you turn your attention away from the tv.

You had forgotten all about that, now curious all over again as you wanted to know. You frowned, looking at him as you crossed your arms. “But, Rafey.. I really want to know.” You begged him, bouncing on your knees.

“You wanna know, huh?” He asked amused as he watched you rapidly nodded your head. “I’ll do anything. I want to learn from you Rafey!” You pleaded back.

Rafe could have sworn he nutted right then by hearing you say those words. You made this too fucking easy to corrupt your sweet self.

“Well if you wanna sleep in my bed, you are gonna earn a spot. Yeah? Gotta teach you some respect first and then you are gonna learn to take big dick in all your holes.” He told you, giving your jaw a nudge.

[mediumgayitalian]

“You know I love you, right?”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.”

Will smiles, pushing down the bubble of air that fires up his torso, pressing down on the balloon of giggles that expand up his belly, into his lungs. He hides into the pillow, acting at sleep, feeling Nico’s hand walk across his chest.

“Tell me more.”

That callused hand pauses, and Will’s breath hitches, goosebumps pilling up all over his warmed skin. He can feel the slow spread of Nico’s tiny grin in the air, can feel the crooked edge to it, the sharp edge of possession. His teeth-torn fingernails dip below the sag of Will’s stretched-out tank top and feign hesitance, feign modesty, before sliding clear up along his abdomen, his sternum, his pectorals. The web of Nico’s thumb rests dangerously, daringly close to the edge of Will’s areola, by no accident. Will shivers.

“Greedy,” Nico murmurs, and his lips are so close to Will’s skin that he feels the rumbling baritone of his voice in the hard lines of his muscles, and they clench, tiny little spasms, with every ghosting breath. “Greedy, greedy boy.”

Will’s stomach bottoms out. He feels it, dropping to his clenched toes, and drawn unbidden from his mouth is the tiniest of little sounds, breathy, gravelly, humiliating; the quiet echo of Nico’s snicker makes it so, so much more intoxicatingly worse and he can feel it, the headiness. The way his mind starts to float.

“‘M not.”

It’s barely a defense. It’s barely words. He can focus only on the scrape of Nico’s palms against his skin, on the heat of his breath, his body; so close. Will’s mind spins and his own breathing gets short, shallow. Wanting.

“You are.” His lips touch, finally, the burning want of Will’s skin; pressing firm against the slope of Will’s shoulder, hard enough to feel teeth, to feel panting, to feel the strength of Nico’s wanting. His taking. “You drink everything I give you. You replenish your blood with it, don’t you.”

“And?” Will asks, breathless, challenging. He bares his neck and hears the sharpness of Nico’s inhale; looks out of the corner of his eyes and smirks at the clench of his Nico’s jaw, the tongue that darts out to wet at his lips, to lap at him. “Will you give it to me?”

“I will give you anything.”

He says it with the force of a thousand whispers, a million final oaths. He says it and Will hears thunder clap. He feels the ground shake, the bed shake, his thighs shake, uncontrollably, weak under the bruise of Nico’s clench, the brand of his palms. I will give you anything. I will give you everything.

“How will you ever afford it?”

Nico’s teeth sink into his skin and Will opens his mouth to shout but the only sound to exit is the broken vowels of his Nico’s name, all of them. Nico shifts to face him and he knows, but the steel in his Earthen eyes, that cost is of no question, if no concern.

I will. Easily.

Will folds into him like the stars do their ending, glowing sun.

[nova-is-a-writer-now]

Highway Heat

Summary: Your car breaks down in the middle of nowhere and the trucker you flag down offers more than just roadside assistance.

A/N: Lord oh lord… I tried to be good i swear, i really tried to behave. The thing is my sweet beta reader @hautecouture02 requested a little roadside encounter one shot with Joel, specifically asking for FLUFF, and i swear on everything holy I tried my best to keep it PG… but sometimes things don’t go as I planned. So here, take this absolute filth of a one shot that’s little more than PWOP. ENJOY!!!!

Warnings: As previously stated, this is pretty much PWOP, Trucker!Joel i know nothing about trucks lol, maybe some dub!con at first but the internal dialogue shows hella consent, groping, fingering, a bit of praise and a bit of degradation, pet names like so many of them im not gonna list them all almost too many pet names if you believe in such a thing, grinding, oral male receiving, deep throating

Masterlist

You’re a good person—hell, a great person even. You give your spare change to homeless people, you donate to the puppy shelter every once in a while, you hold your friend’s hair back when they’re throwing up in the back of the club. You’re definitely not the type of person who deserves to be stranded in the middle of nowhere, sweating buckets despite wearing nothing but a spaghetti strap tank top and the tiniest pair of shorts you own. This feels like some kind of cosmic punishment.

It is, undoubtedly, the worst possible time for your car to stop working. You’d been putting off the usual checkups on your car for months, knowing full well it was overdue for an oil change, a tire rotation—or whatever men who know anything about cars always say. Your ex used to handle all of that for you, always acting like it was his job to make sure your car ran smoothly. He was the kind of guy who would go out of his way to make your life easier—didn’t mean he was above cheating though.

So now, you’re stuck in your geriatric Honda Civic, the AC busted and the engine refusing to start.

After a few minutes of trying to will it back to life, it’s clear you’re stranded.

You step out of the car, and the heat hits you like a slap on the face. The road’s deserted, no signs of life for miles, and of course, your phone has no signal. Perfect.

You glance down the road, hoping for a miracle, when you spot the rough outline of a truck—a big one, maybe a sixteen-wheeler—coming up in the distance.

Relief washes over you for about two seconds before the rational part of your brain kicks in, running through every horror movie scenario. But you don’t have many options here, so you decide to wave the truck down as it rolls closer.

It’s a beat-up old thing, paint chipped and covered in dirt, but it comes to a slow stop right behind your car. The door creaks open, and out steps a man.

He’s tall, broad, with a face lined with age and tan from long days under the sun. The net cap he wears lets a few of his longer dark curls peek out, the front pieces overpowered by graying hair. His strong arms are covered by a faded plaid shirt, paired up with some worn jeans and boots that kick up dust as he steps toward you. His dark, intense eyes size you up like you’re part of the landscape he’s used to navigating.

“You alright there, sweetheart?” His voice is deep and gravelly, but the drawl is what steals your attention, thick and sweet like honey.

You clear your throat, trying to keep your frustration in check. “Car broke down. Won’t start. No service either.”

He nods slowly, like this is exactly the kind of situation he was expecting to find out here. Like this is the only way he would ever get to talk to a girl like you. “Well, good thing I’m passin’ through then.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes a little at that, but desperation makes you bite your tongue. “Think you could take a look?”

He stares at you for a moment, long enough for you to wonder if he’s going to offer any help at all. But then he lets out a low sigh, scratches the back of his neck, and walks over to your car, popping the hood like it’s second nature.

For a while, there’s nothing but the sound of him tinkering under the hood, the occasional grunt or muttered curse as he checks things out. You stand there awkwardly, feeling the heat bearing down on you, watching as beads of sweat gather at the back of his neck.

Finally, he steps back, wiping his hands on his jeans. “Shit’s runnin’ on fumes. When’s the last time you had it serviced?”

You shift, feeling stupid. “A while. My ex used to handle it, and, uh… I’ve been busy.”

He gives you a look, something between amusement and pity, before shaking his head. He leans against the car, arms crossed. “I can tow you to a shop next town over, but it’s gonna be a ride.”

You blink up at him, playing the lady in distress card best you can. Anything to get yourself out of here. “You don’t mind?”

“Nah,” he says, with a shrug, “I’m headin’ that way anyway.”

You smile warmly, trying not to look too satisfied at the success rate this specific tactic has with men. It’s not the first time you’ve pulled this trick and it most certainly won’t be the last.

He moves back to his truck, grabbing a few chains and a tow hitch from the back. Within minutes, he’s hooking up your beat-up Honda Civic to the rear of his truck, working with the ease of someone who’s done this a hundred times before.

“You sure this is safe?” you ask, watching him as he tightens the last chain.

“Safe as it’s gon’ get,” he replies with a shrug, brushing the dust from his hands. “Theres no car shop out here, so this’ll do ‘til we get to the next town.”

You hesitate, then eye him. “You’re not gonna, like, chop me up and throw me in a ditch, are you?”

He chuckles at that, a nice gravely sound. “If I was, don’t think I’d tell ya, sugar. But no, I ain’t in the business of chopping people up.”

You look at him for a bit longer before sighing. “Fuck it, let’s go.”

He turns, heading back to his truck, his broad back facing you and making it a hell of a lot harder to concentrate

“Name’s Joel, by the way,” he says, glancing back over his shoulder as he opens the passenger door for you.

“Thanks, Joel,” you say, stepping up into the truck’s cab, the cool air from his AC hitting you like a blessing. Maybe your luck hasn’t run out just yet.

You sink back into the seat as he climbs up on his side of the cab, letting the icy air wash over you. There’s something else prickling at your senses though—something that has nothing to do with the temperature. It’s him.

Joel’s glances are obvious, a little too long, lingering like he’s sizing you up. Normally, it’d make you roll your eyes, maybe even tell him off. Old guy like him eyeing you up is nothing you’re unfamiliar with. But today? With the way your body feels sticky and tired, and the way the breakup has left you all out of sorts… you’re almost enjoying it.

You’ve been craving attention and the shitty one night stands with guys from dating apps have done nothing to satiate that need. It’s been months since anyone has properly touched you and the rational part of your brain that would be yelling at you to be weary of this sleazy trucker who just picked you off of the side of the road is sounding real quiet right now.

“So…” His voice pulls you from your thoughts as he shifts in his seat, resting one hand lazily on the wheel. “Where are you headed?”

You hesitate, eyes on the road ahead. “Just… trying to get home.”

He hums, slow and deliberate. “Home, huh? Got anyone waitin’ on you there? Boyfriend?”

The word slices through you, sharper than you expected. You tighten your jaw, glancing out the window. “No. Not anymore.”

Joel makes a sound, somewhere between a laugh and a grunt. “Well, that’s a real shame. Pretty thing like you, all alone.”

You should hate the way he says it, the way his eyes flicker toward you like he’s just waiting for an opening. But instead, there’s a strange warmth pooling in your stomach, your pulse picking up in a way you’re not proud of. You shift in your seat, crossing your legs like it’ll somehow tamp down the growing tension in your body, the heat between your thighs. He doesn’t miss it though, his smirk growing a little wider.

“Does that line work on most girls?” you quip, trying to keep things light.

Joel chuckles, the sound low and dangerous. “Depends on the girl. You look a little… flustered.”

Your cheeks heat up, and it’s not just the sun this time. “I’m not flustered.”

“Sure ‘bout that, darlin’?”

You glare at the open road, biting your lower lip as you try to ignore the way his words are messing with your head—and your body. It’s been way too long since anyone’s looked at you this way. Really looked at you.

The silence stretches out as the truck rumbles along the deserted road. You try to focus on anything but the tension in the air and find it’s impossible. His presence feels inescapable, it fills the cab wrapping around you, pressing down on every nerve.

“You never told me,” Joel says after a while, breaking the quiet. “Where’s home?”

“Austin,” you say quietly, your voice a little steadier now. “But I’m not in any rush to get back.”

“Family trouble?” he asks, his eyes flicking toward you again.

“Something like that,” you mutter. “It’s complicated.”

He hums in response. “Don’t I know it.”

You shift in your seat, crossing your legs, catching Joel watching you out of the corner of his eye. His gaze lingers a little too long on your bare thighs, and there’s a flicker of something dark passing over his face, but he says nothing.

You want to ignore it—God, you should ignore it—especially since you’re stuck with him for a while longer. But the rising heat in your body and the quickening pulse beneath your skin make it hard to think straight, harder still to make good decisions.

So you bite.

“You gonna keep staring, or is this part of your charm routine?” You cock a brow, trying to ignore the way warmth crawls up your neck.

A slow smirk curls at his lips, but he doesn’t look away. If anything, he leans in closer, his hand resting just near your leg, making the air between you buzz. “Am I layin’ it on too thick?”

“Little bit,” you quip back, though your voice betrays you with how soft it comes out. You bite your lip, trying to stay sharp, but his eyes flick down to the movement, and the pulsing need low in your stomach tightens. “It’s not working.”

His smirk widens, like he’s enjoying this far too much. “Funny. Seems to me it’s workin’ just fine.”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t hide the way your heart races when he shifts closer, his fingers brushing against your leg. The touch is light, almost casual, but it’s enough to send a shiver racing up your spine, your breath catching in your throat.

“You can roll your eyes all you want, doll. It don’t change the fact I can see what you need, clear as day,” he purrs, his voice dropping lower.

“Oh yeah? And what’s that?” you snap back, though your words lack the heat you want them to have.

“Little bit of attention.”

He reads you too well. It drives you insane. “I don’t need anything from you. Just get me where I need to go.”

A quiet chuckle rumbles from his chest. “That so? ’Cause the way you’ve been shiftin’ in that seat says otherwise.”

You bristle at his words, but the truth sticks like a thorn. There’s a reason you haven’t told him to stop, a reason you haven’t shut this down. You’re tired, frustrated, and the way his eyes keep grazing over you… you can’t stop wondering how easy it’d be to let him pull you under, to let him take all your worries away.

“You’re losing it, old man,” you shoot back, even though you know it’s a losing game. He sees right through you, but that doesn’t mean you’re gonna make it easy.

“Am I?” he purrs, his hand sliding up to rest fully on your thigh. “So, you don’t want me touching you like this, darlin’?”

The way he says it—slow, deliberate, laced with that sweet, thick accent—it’s all innocence, even though everything about it screams otherwise. You know you’ll be hearing that “darlin’” in your head later, when you’re playing with yourself.

You smirk, giving him a little more rope. “I didn’t say that.”

He hums, eyes flicking between the road and your legs. “And I’m guessin’ you wouldn’t say a word if I moved my hand higher, would you?”

Your legs part just slightly, almost like an instinct. Barely noticeable to anyone else. But not to Joel.

“Look at you,” he drawls, a shit-eating smirk spreading across his lips. “Already makin’ it easier for me.”

You’re about to fire back, ready to keep this banter rolling, when his fingers slide higher. A soft sigh escapes your lips before you can stop it.

“You ready to stop actin’ up, or we still playin’ cat and mouse, pretty girl?” His eyes lock on yours, dark and unwavering.

Your pulse quickens at the challenge in his voice, your breath catching in your throat. His fingers are still on your thigh, warm and rough, and it’s messing with your head. You know you should stop this now, make him pull his hand back, but you’re not sure if that’s what you want.

“I’m not acting up,” you murmur, trying to hold on to some sense of control, even though his touch is making that damn near impossible.

His grin widens, like he’s got you exactly where he wants you. “Mhm, sure you ain’t.”

You glare at him, but it’s weak. Pathetic, really, and the worst part is he knows it. He knows how to get under your skin even though he has known you for half an hour, knows exactly what buttons to push to unravel you just enough to keep you hanging on.

“I mean it,” you snap, though your voice wavers. His hand shifts slightly on your thigh, fingers curling just enough to make your stomach twist into knots.

“I wanna believe you,” His voice is low, a quiet rumble that vibrates through you, all the way down to where you’re aching for him to touch you. He leans in a little more, so close now that you can feel the heat radiating off him, smell that familiar scent of worn leather and something dark and intoxicating. “But you keep lettin’ me touch you. Kinda sends a different message, don’t you think?”

Your heart’s pounding in your chest, the steady rhythm of it loud in your ears. You don’t know how to answer, don’t know if you want to answer. Every rational thought in your head is telling you to stop, but your body isn’t listening.

Instead, you shift slightly, your leg pressing into his hand, just enough to encourage him to keep going. His eyes darken, and a slow, dangerous smile tugs at his lips.

“Thought so,” he mutters, and then his fingers start to move again, sliding higher, testing the boundaries you haven’t set.

You bite your lip, trying to hold back the sigh that’s clawing its way up your throat, but it slips through anyway. He hears it, of course he does, and the satisfied gleam in his eyes makes your face flush with heat.

“You wanna tell me to stop, now’s your chance,” he murmurs, his voice soft but carrying an edge of challenge, like he knows damn well you’re not going to.

His gaze shifts between the road and you and it almost seems like every time those eyes are back on you they become darker.

You glance at him, your heart in your throat, and there’s that flicker of hesitation—you should say something, should stop this before it goes any further—but the way his fingers are brushing higher, dangerously close to the ache between your legs, makes it impossible to think straight.

So you just meet his gaze, and you don’t say a word.

His smirk grows, and his hand drifts even higher. “Good girl.” This time he fully gropes your thigh, groaning like he’s been waiting to unleash this. “You wanna take these off for me, sweetheart? Let me give you as much attention as you want.”

He must have some psychic hold on you because you follow his instructions with no hesitation this time. Your fingers eagerly unbotton your shorts and pull the zipper down, lifting your hips to shimmy them down.

He looks at you for a lot longe than he should taking into account he’s currently driving a beast of a vehicle. “Lord above… you’re a sight and a half, darlin’”

He goes back to massaging your thigh, making circles with his thick fingers, going each time higher. Once he reaches your panties he stops and just rests his hand there, right at the edge of where you want him most. His fingers teasingly brush the fabric, enough to make you gasp, but he doesn’t go any further.

“You’re gonna have to ask for it,” he rasps, his voice thick with something darker now. “Tell me what you want, pretty girl.”

His words are like a key turning in a lock, and your resistance crumbles. You can’t deny it anymore, not when his hand is right there, so close to what you need, your entire body burning up under his touch.

“Joel…” you whisper, your voice almost pleading now, barely more than a breath.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, his hand pressing a little more firmly, his fingers tracing along the outline of your heat through the fabric. “That’s what I wanna hear.”

Your breath stutters, and your hips shift on their own, pressing into his hand. You’re barely hanging on, the tension between you two crackling like a live wire, but he’s still holding back, waiting for you to give in completely.

“Please…” you finally manage, the word spilling out before you can stop it. It’s humiliating and liberating all at once.

“Please what?”

You let out the shadow of a moan. “Please touch me.”

Joel’s hand slips under the fabric, his fingers finally finding your core, and the groan that escapes him sends a shockwave of heat straight to your core. “Good girl,” he breathes, his voice like gravel as his fingers start to move in slow, torturous circles.

Your head falls back against the seat, a whimper escaping your lips as he finally gives you what you’ve been craving. “Jesus, Joel…”

“Feels good, huh?” he rasps, his eyes flicking from the road to you, watching the way your body reacts to every touch, every motion of his hand. “Told you I know exactly what you need, baby.”

You’re melting under his touch, your body humming with the pressure of his fingers moving against you, his voice guiding you deeper into the haze of pleasure. You’re not even sure what’s more intoxicating—the way he’s touching you or the way he’s talking to you, that low, commanding tone unraveling you completely.

“That’s it, sweetness, grind on my fingers, make that little pussy feel good” Joel growls, having a harder time keeping his eyes on the road now.

“Fuck… that feels you good da-“ you stop yourself before you’re able to finish the word. Your ex didn’t like you calling him that, so you usually kept that particular kink under wraps, but something about Joel is making it surface back up.

He looks up at you, pupils blown out. “Say it… say wha you wanna say baby.”

You lose all restraint and moan loudly. “It feels so good, daddy.”

“That’s right, babygirl.” He moans “Daddy’s fingers make your pretty cunt fucking drip don’t they?”

His words send a wave of pleasure through your body, a mixture of shame and intense arousal surging in your chest. You’re too far gone to stop now, letting the haze of lust pull you under completely.

“Yes,” you whisper, the word slipping out like a confession. “So fucking wet.”

Joel’s fingers move faster, rough and skilled, coaxing you into a rhythm that has you arching your back against the seat. His other hand grips the wheel tight, knuckles white, and you can tell he’s barely hanging onto his self-control, but that only makes it hotter.

“Jesus, you’re a fuckin’ dream,” he growls, voice thick with desire. “Been wantin’ to ruin you since the minute you sat your pretty ass in this truck.”

The vulgarity, the way he talks to you—it should feel wrong, but instead, it’s like gasoline thrown on the fire already burning inside you. You grind down harder on his fingers, chasing the high he’s offering, the tension building fast in your core.

You glance over at him, his jaw tight, eyes darting between the road and you, and there’s something so filthy about the way he’s trying to keep it together while driving, the way his control is slipping. You want to push him, make him lose it completely.

“You’re losing it too,” you pant, breathless, pushing your hips into his hand. “Can’t even keep your eyes on the road, can you?”

His gaze snaps to yours, dark and predatory. “Careful. Keep talkin’ like that, and I’ll pull this truck over.”

The threat in his voice makes you shiver, heat pooling low in your belly. You’re right on the edge, your body strung tight as a bow, every nerve lit up under his touch.

“Do it,” you challenge, voice breathless and wrecked.

Joel’s eyes flash with something dangerous, his hand gripping your thigh so hard it almost hurts. Without another word, he swerves the truck off the road, gravel crunching under the tires as he pulls into a secluded spot off the highway.

Your heart is pounding, adrenaline mixing with the arousal as he throws the truck into park and turns to face you fully. The look in his eyes is feral, like he’s done holding back, and you brace yourself for what’s coming next.

“Such a little attention whore, baby,” he growls, unbuckling his seatbelt with one hand, the other still teasing you between your legs. “I’m all yours now.”

In one swift motion, he pulls you onto his lap, your thighs straddling his hips, the weight of his hard length pressing against you through his jeans. He is big, a lot bigger than you expected and it makes your mouth water,almost like your body is showing you how badly you need him in a million and one ways.

His hands grip your hips possessively, eyes locking with yours as if daring you to make the next move.

You don’t hesitate. You grind down on him, both of you letting out low moans at the contact. The friction sends sparks flying up your spine, and you can already tell this is about to be the kind of reckless, dirty, no-going-back encounter you’ve both been craving.

Joel’s hands slide up your back, fisting in your hair as he pulls you down to feast on your neck. His lips trail down, biting at the sensitive skin there, and it’s too much, too intense. You feel like you’re going to combust right here in his arms.

“You taste so fuckin’ good,” he mutters against your skin, one hand slipping between you to push your panties aside, his fingers slipping through your slick heat again. “Filthy little slut, letting a stranger put his fingers inside you. Gonna make you come so hard you forget your own name, pretty girl.”

Your hips buck against him, the promise of release so close you can taste it. “Fuck, Joel, please…”

“Try again. You know better.” his tone is firm and commanding, all the previous playfulness gone.

“Please daddy, let me come”

“That’s it,” he groans, his thumb circling your clit with just the right amount of pressure, pushing you right to the edge. “Come for me, darlin’. Let me feel this tight little whole clench on my fingers.”

The way he says it with such authority, has you unraveling in his lap, your entire body trembling as you come hard against his hand. Your vision goes white, pleasure crashing over you in waves as you grip his shoulders, nails digging into his skin.

Joel watches you, his eyes hooded and hungry, soaking in every second of your release. He doesn’t stop moving his fingers until you’re shaking from the aftershocks, your body limp and boneless against him.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, his voice low and satisfied as he finally pulls his hand away, bringing his fingers to his lips to taste you. “Tastes even better than I imagined.”

You’re still catching your breath, head buzzing from the intensity, but the way his hardness presses against you makes it clear you’re far from done. It’s not like those other times when finishing a guy felt like an obligation, when the effort barely felt worth it because they didn’t take the time to get you there first. But Joel? Joel made you come so hard you can’t help but want to return the favor. It’s not a chore—it’s something you crave.

“My turn,” you murmur, fingers already working at the button of his jeans.

His grip tightens on your hips, eyes darkening as he watches your hands move, but there’s a flicker of restraint. “Don’t think that’s a good idea, sweetheart. Can’t have this beast of a truck just parked in the middle of the road.”

You shift back onto your own seat, lifting your leg off his lap to give yourself the space you need. The desire to make him feel just as wrecked as you burns in your chest, so you lean down, your gaze steady on his as your fingers trail lower.

“You can drive,” you say, voice low, teasing. “I’m not stopping you.”

Joel’s eyes flash with something dangerous, his jaw ticking like he’s fighting with himself. For a second, you think he’s going to tell you to stop, but then he huffs out a breath, shaking his head with a low chuckle. “You’re trouble.”

You smile up at him as you feel him start the engine again, your hand slipping lower, teasing him through his jeans.

Joel’s breath hitches as your fingers brush against him, a low growl vibrating in his chest. His hand tightens on the steering wheel, knuckles turning white as he tries to focus on the road, but you can tell he’s losing the battle.

His jaw clenches, a muscle ticking in his cheek as he tries to keep his cool, but you can see right through it. The way his body is responding to your touch, the way he’s barely holding it together, it only spurs you on.

You undo his jeans and pull the zipper down, feeling the heat radiating off him. His breath stutters, and his hand slips to grip the side of the seat, trying to ground himself as you free him from the confines of his jeans.

You wrap your hand around him, feeling how hard he is, how thick, and the groan that escapes his lips sends a thrill through you. “Fuck,” he breathes, eyes flicking between the road and you, his control slipping more by the second.

You lower your head, your lips grazing his tip, and Joel’s entire body tenses. His hips buck up, instinctively searching for more, and you can’t help but smirk as you take him deeper into your mouth.

“Holy shit,” he groans, his voice rough and ragged, his hand instinctively flying to the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair. “You’re gonna get us both killed.”

But even as he says it, there’s no hint of him wanting you to stop. He keeps urging you on in slow, measured strokes. The tension in him is palpable, and you can feel the way his control is fraying with every flick of your tongue, every inch you take him deeper.

His breathing grows ragged, and he glances down at you, eyes dark with heat and disbelief. “You’re so pretty with a fat cock stuffed in your mouth baby, look at you ”

You hum around him, the vibration making his hips jerk again, and the low groan that rips from his throat sends a fresh wave of adrenaline coursing through you. He’s unraveling, right in front of you, and you’re loving every second of it.

You pick up the pace, your hand working him in tandem with your mouth, and Joel’s growl turns guttural, his grip on the wheel tightening. “Right there, darlin’ girl, don’t stop…” he hisses, head tipping back slightly as his hips move in time with your rhythm, chasing the release that’s so damn close.

His eyes flick between the road and you, pupils blown, struggling to stay on course even as his focus is being torn apart by you.

“Fuck, baby… I’m not gonna last if you keep—” He cuts himself off with a harsh groan, his hips bucking again, muscles taut and trembling as he loses the last shred of his composure. He’s completely at your mercy now, and it’s making him wild, his control slipping fast.

You don’t let up, your hand dropping lower to play with his balls, and he’s right on the edge, teetering dangerously close. His breath comes in ragged bursts, and his body tightens under you, his hips jerking harder, more desperate now.

“Where do you want it, baby?”

Instead of answering you take him deeper down your throat, your nose burrowing in the dark curls at the base of his cock, his smell so musky and intoxicating it makes you dizzy.

“Shit, shit—” Joel’s voice is a strangled growl, and then you feel him pulse in your mouth, a low, guttural moan tearing from his throat as he finally comes undone. He’s barely holding onto the wheel, the truck swerving just enough to make your heart race, but it’s clear he’s past caring. He spills hot and hard into your mouth, the sound of his release drowned out by the pounding of your own pulse in your ears.

You keep going, milking him for every last bit, until he’s trembling beneath you, his breathing ragged and uneven. When you finally pull away, he’s still gripping the steering wheel like it’s the only thing anchoring him to reality.

“Holy fuck,” he mutters, his voice rough and wrecked. His eyes flick down to you, wild and wide, before darting back to the road. He lets out a breathless, incredulous laugh, shaking his head. “Best hitchhiker I’ve ever picked up, that’s for damn sure.”

As if on cue, the truck finally pulls into the shop, the hum of the engine fading, the weight of what just happened still hung thick between you two. Joel cuts the ignition, his hand lingering on the key for a beat too long, like he wasn’t quite ready to step back into reality. He realizes his now soft cock is still out and starts to zip himself back up.

You try to gather yourself, smoothing your clothes and brushing a hand through your hair as if it’d erase everything that had gone down on that highway. You can tell it’s gonna stick with you for a good while longer though.

Joel clears his throat, glancing over at you with a look that was somehow both satisfied and conflicted. "Well, we’re here," he mutters, but his hand was already fishing in his back pocket for something. "Here." He hands you a crumpled business card, his name scrawled across it with a number underneath. "In case you run into any more car trouble or, y'know... anything else."

The corner of his mouth twitches, like he knows damn well this had nothing to do with the rugged old thing and everything to do with the heat still simmering between you. You take the card, trying to hide the smirk tugging at your lips.

"Thanks," you reply, pocketing it casually, though the way your heart raced gave you away. "For… you know, all of it."

He just gives you that signature look of his—half-smirk, half-smolder—and with that, you slide out of the truck, legs still feeling like jelly as you walked away. You didn't even need to turn around to know his eyes were glued to your retreating figure.

[4unnyr0se]

❥ tsukishima plays the waiting game

warnings: fem! reader, pre and post timeskip! tsukishima, tsuki gets slapped, reader is a sweetie, yamaguchi and hinata mentioned, tbh its mostly fluff

MDNI | No 18+ content here, I just don't want minors interacting with my blog

word count -> 785

part two

Kei Tsukishima wasn’t the best at showing affection at all. He only liked and respected Yamaguchi, but apart from that, there wasn’t really anyone he thought merited his honest and most sincere loyalty and trust. Sure, he respected Daichi when he was still in high school, but Daichi was his captain. It was different.

Then, you moved to Miyagi and enrolled in Karasuno in mid-April. You were placed in the same class as Yamaguchi and Tsukishima. Apparently, you had scored in the top 1% in your old high school, much to Tsukishima’s chagrin. He assumed you would be just another one of those academic bitches (like himself) who only cared about what directly affected them. 

That was the first time Tsukishima was wrong. 

You were sickeningly sweet, so much so that many people thought it was just an act. Tsukishima first thought this, too, that a wolf was hiding under that fluffy sheep wool. But no, there wasn’t. You were genuinely nice without ulterior motives, always volunteering to tutor students after class. You even helped Yamaguchi with his English vocabulary and grammar. He didn’t even have to ask! That’s how sweet you were, and Tsukishima hated that. Well, only at first. 

He knew he liked you the second you snapped at him, calling him an asshole in front of the entire Karasuno team. He was practicing serves and missed completely, the volleyball slamming into your torso as you walked by the practice gym. Instead of apologizing, he blamed you for being in the way. 

Instead of you apologizing for having dared to be in the way of a rouge volleyball, he was met with a cold smack in the face. Vulgar words left your mouth, your face heating up in anger as you called him out for being a stuck-up prick who didn’t care about anyone but himself (and maybe Yamaguchi.) The Karasuno team stood in shock as you screamed at him, your usual friendly and kind demeanor long forgotten. Hinata thought that Tsukishima was absolutely going to murder you, but instead, the lanky blonde just stood there with the tiniest blush on his cheeks. You called him out; you slapped him. The sweetest girl in Karasuno slapped him and humbled him in front of his teammates. You weren’t just an innocent little lamb, you bit. And Tsukishima liked that. 

Tsukishima never acted on his urges in high school; he was too busy with class and volleyball and Hinata’s bullshit to worry about romantic relationships. But he caught himself sneaking glances at you throughout high school, no matter where he was. You two were always in the same class, weirdly enough. Graduation eventually came, and lo and behold, the two of you went to Sendai. He was on a semi-volleyball scholarship, and you had a full academic ride because you did. And to his horror, or perhaps delight, you both had the same entry-level statistics class.

He first noticed that you had a sense of personal style that he approved of. Tsukishima had only ever seen you in the Karasuno girl’s school uniform before, so it was a pleasant surprise to see you wearing a spaghetti strap tank top with a wool cardigan and loose jeans. It was…cute.

Tsukishima was taken aback when you walked up to him after class, bowing your head slightly to apologize for screaming at him when you were in high school. He smirked and accepted the apology, pushing your head down further. 

“You also slapped me and called me an asshole, remember?”

You became flustered and started apologizing even more, tilting your head with sparkling eyes.

“I know, I’m really sorry. I don’t want any bad blood. How can I make this up to you?”

“Go on a date with me.” It came out of his lips so fast that Tsukishima didn’t have time to cover it up with a cough. How could he let that slip from his lips, he always thought before speaking. He thought before doing anything! He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, looking away in embarrassment. “Go on…just go on a date with me, please. I’ve liked you since high school, moron.”

You smiled and hugged him, squeezing his torso with all your might. Of course, Tsukishima thought this was adorable, he was a foot taller than you. “Of course, I’ll go on a date with you! Where?” You asked as you looked up, the prettiest smile plastered across your shining face. Fuck, Tsukishima was totally screwed. He’d give you the world right then and there if he wasn’t so proud. 

“My dorm? Yamaguchi is out with friends for the weekend.”

“Yamaguchi has friends other than you? Damn, he really grew up.”

“Indeed,”

Tsukishima’s side of the dorm was immaculate. Spotless, organized, and decorated with dinosaur posters. It was cute and nerdy, making you smile. Maybe deep down inside, he wasn’t such a jerk.

[snail-day]

Satoru is a boobs man, Sugaru is a thigh man. This combination means reader is only ever wearing short cute sundresses round the house. Sugaru tries to be above everyone and pretend he isn't so base to have your wardrobe consist of skirts and dresses as to not lose his semblance of authority, meanwhile satoru is staring at your tits no matter how visible they are. Full deer in the headlights if you ever wear something really skimpy and low cut

🪻

fnejjcnejsjc

No

Exactly this right here. Satoru definitey drools over you on a daily basis. It’s honestly a problem during the winter months. He hides all your cozy sweaters just so he can keep seeing you in those little low-cut tank tops that make his brain freeze like the outside temperatures. Suguru’s no better, as much as he says he's a saint, he practically pouts if you’re not strutting around the house in your tiniest booty shorts :(

They just really, really love your body, okay?? What do you mean you’re cold? That’s what warm laps are for! Satoru’s already patting his thigh like, “C’mere, baby, we’re eco-friendly in this household. No need for heaters when I’m right here.”

But when summer rolls around… oh my. Bikini season turns them feral. Satoru’s already making lewd grabby habds. Suguru’s already got the sunscreen bottle in hand, being all serious like, “You need it on your shoulders. And your thighs. And your lower back. Oh - can’t forget right here, angel - don’t want you burning.”

They're just two completely smitten, perverted idiots in love 🩷

[neiptune]

always my person

cw: 1.7k wc, female reader, suggestive, you surprise your man with a tattoo of his initial and his body reacts before the mind can process, this was supposed to be brief and silly but I got emotional as always he's too charming for his own good

You smile upon hearing the front door shutting, warmth blossoming in your chest at the sound of his voice, cheerfully announcing that he’s back.

Shoyo lets the gym bag hit the floor as he walks into the kitchen, where you’re waiting with a big, dopey smile. He pulls you into his familiar embrace right away, the tiniest bit clingy as he always is the first days when you visit him.

“Missed you”, he mumbles into your neck, “come with me tomorrow”.

You giggle, indulging his rocking movement by swaying gently on your feet.

“But I hate the gym?”.

“Don’t care. You can just be there while I work out, mark your territory or something”.

You pull back enough to meet his playful gaze with a scowl.

“Do I need to mark my territory, Shoyo?”.

“Maybe? I look pretty good while bench pressing-”, he laughs when you lightly pinch his side but instead of letting you go, he tightens his hold around you.

“I’ll bite you”.

“Don’t tempt me with a good time”.

Another laugh shakes him when you muffle a groan into his chest. How is it that he always has it his way? Oh, but you’re pretty sure the retaliation you’re about to get is going to be sweet. He most probably won’t be able to suave his way out of it.

“I actually have a surprise for you”, you hide your smile in the fabric of his tank top.

“Oh?”, Shoyo soothingly rubs your back and it takes everything in you to pull away from his embrace. He spots your telltale grin and hums, making a show of bracing himself for trouble.

“What did you do?”.

You narrow your eyes.

“What’s with the lack of trust?”.

“Last time you said that, there was a stray cat in my bedroom”.

“How was I supposed to know you’re allergic to them now?”, you pout and he laughs, takes your face in his big hands and gently pecks your lips. 

“You’re right. Tell me, then. What’s the surprise?”.

“Close your eyes”.

Shoyo complies right away and, with a smile, you turn around. There is a slight tension in your shoulders, the irrational fear that he might actually not be happy about it. Or worse, get mad. Shoyo rarely ever gets mad and you doubt this particular action could stir up an argument but you still have to take a deep breath before allowing him to open his eyes.

You hear it loud and clear, the way his breath catches in his throat.

“Is this…?”, Shoyo’s voice comes out hoarse, uncertain, “can I touch?”.

“Yeah”, you let out a nervous giggle.

The pads of his fingers delicately trace the small letter forever imprinted on the skin of your nape. His initial.

“Guess one could say this way you marked your territory first, huh?”, you hope your laugh eases the weird tension you can feel simmering the longer his silence stretches for.

“God, this is… oh, no. Fuck”, something in your chest cracks at the sound of his groan.

“I’m sorry, I thought you’d… I thought you’d like it. It was a dumb idea, I’ll have it removed”, you spin once more, eyes big with worry. Embarrassment flares hot in your gut as you avoid his gaze, torment your fingers.

“What?”, in disbelief, Shoyo stares at you, “removed? Over my dead body”.

Hesitant, you finally look up.

“But… you don’t hate it?”.

He lets out an incredulous laugh.

“Hate it? I don’t think you understand what this just did to me. Shit”.

You furrow your brows, confused, then your gaze lands on his sweatpants. Your jaw slacks.

“Are you hard right now?”.

“How do you expect me not to be?”, he gently pulls you in with a smile, fingers hooked in your belt loops, “can’t believe you did that. Are you tryin’ to kill me?”.

“So you like it?”, you grin when all he can do is hum against your skin, where he’s pressing his lips over and over again while sponging kisses across your jaw, neck, throat.

“How about I show you exactly how much I like it?”, his sweatpants feel so tight it almost hurts and when you lightly tug at his hair, your hands buried in tufts of copper curls, the sound he lets out sinks into your abdomen, where it sets something ablaze.

And then, right as he kisses you so hard against the kitchen counter you think your lips may bruise, your phone rings.

“Shoyo, I have to pick up”, you whisper, disheartened. He rests his forehead against your shoulder for a moment, trying to catch his breath, then lets you go with a dazed smile and eyes with a dangerous glint in them, one that promises this interruption will merely delay what’s to come.

“I’ll take a shower. Tell Emi I said hi and to be quick”, he kisses you one last time, winks from over his shoulder as he picks up his bag from the floor and heads upstairs. You roll your eyes with fondness. When your friend asks what took you so long your mind is still occupied, the continuity of your thoughts shattered by the memory of your boyfriend’s swollen lips and flushed cheeks.

By the time Shoyo is back, clean sweatpants, hoodie and damp hair, you’re on his couch with the tv on. Your friend was in urgent need of advice and emotional support over a bad date, you only just managed to finally talk her out of going on a second date with the same guy and promised you’d meet her for breakfast as soon as you’re back home.

“Everything okay?”, he plops down next to you and with a sigh you soon adjust yourself in between his legs, nestled comfortably in his arms and against his chest.

“She’ll be fine, I’ll call again tomorrow. How are you feeling after your second shower of the day?”.

“Relieved”, he chuckles with you, then kisses the crown of your head, “you’re not pranking me, right? It’s a real one. I’ll be sad if I just jerked off to a temporary tattoo-”

“It’s real, you idiot! Maybe I should add a ��K’ next to it and dedicate it to Sakusa instead?”.

Shoyo gently grabs your jaw with one hand, fingers sinking into the skin of your cheeks until your lips are comically puckered.

“Not funny”, he warns.

“Then stop being stupid”.

“It’s just… you’re scared of needles”.

“Why are you being so polemic about this? Are you sure you like it?”.

Shoyo sinks into the pillows a little more and you with him. The steady rise and fall of his chest is soothing, you can feel the familiar beat of his heart under your ear.

“I just can’t believe you’d do this for me. I guess it’s crazy to think I’m even worth something like that in the first place, you know?”.

You carefully let the absurd words sink, to make sure you truly understand what he’s trying to say. When you prop yourself up on one arm to look at him, Shoyo has a serious look on his face.

“Do I not show you how much…”, you start, but he shakes his head and interrupts your troubled question.

“It’s not you. I just never thought I’d be it for someone. I mean, it’s forever, no? What happens if we break up?”.

Your gaze softens. Despite how confident he is, the way Shoyo trusts you with his most vulnerable thoughts never fails to touch you. Not that he’s ever had any particular issue with voicing what he thinks or feels but this feels special. Someone else might be offended by the question, read into it too much, but you know better. He’s always so busy being your rock solid, safe harbor that he rarely ever allows himself to falter, to share such insecurities.

“You’re my person, Shoyo. You will always be my person, even if we break up”, you don’t offer sappy reassurance, as much as you’re certain you’re bound to never part ways this is the ony thing you’re able to promise. Because life is messy and anything could happen, especially with a long distance relationship. But Shoyo Hinata will always be it for you, no matter where in the world he is, no matter if he’s your boyfriend or not. He has much more than your heart.

“I made this whole thing sad, didn’t I? It was supposed to be different. I’m sorry”, he murmurs, pulling you into him once more. You press your lips to the portion of skin of his neck you can reach.

“No, you didn’t. You just gave me the chance to tell you something important. Besides, I didn’t really do this for you”, with a smile, you nestle further into his chest.

“Mm?”.

“I did it for me. As a reminder that it doesn’t matter where you are, where I am. I can always feel you close”.

Silence follows your admission and you know he’s mulling over it, one hand idly massaging your arm. After a few seconds, the same hand gently grabs your chin to tilt your head up.

“I love you”, he whispers, before softly pressing his lips to yours. You smile into the kiss.

“It also turns me on to have your initial tattooed on me”, you melt into a chuckle when he groans, exasperated.

“You’re such a little minx”, something flashes in his eyes, now bright with mirth once more. The grin you offer only makes him smile more.

“Would you get one with my initial too?”, it’s just light teasing but Shoyo takes one of your hands and brings it to his lips, to gently kiss your wrist.

“I’d get your full name. Pick a spot”.

His genuineness flusters you for a moment and you have to laugh it off.

“Shut up”.

“No, really. I’d have it anywhere”.

“I know”, you sigh, defeated. He hums.

“Wanna see it again, sit up straight please”.

You comply, adjust yourself against his chest once more and lightly crane your neck to offer a better view of your nape. His calloused fingers outline the little ‘S’ once more, right before the featherlite touch of his lips presses onto your skin. You relax into his sweet kisses for a bit but, as he always does, Shoyo surprises you. When all of a sudden the warm tip of his tongue slowly traces over the letter, a shudder teases your spine.

“Stay still for me”, he whispers. You have no intention of disobeying.

[lovemeafterhrs]

go-go dancer!

i’m your go-go dancer, credit card romancer!

megumi fushiguro x next door neighbor! reader

author’s note: this the longest fic i’ve written in years LMAO.. been deliberating this concept since september

word count: 10.7k

MDNI! all characters are 18+

major inspo: midnight answer by @/hellokittyheat on AO3, go-go dancer and lolita (demo 4) by LDR.

warnings: megumi is sooo sexually frustrated, masturbation, oral (m + f receiving), unprotected sex, double creampie. reader has nipple piercings

listen along:

when megumi fushiguro moved out of gojo’s house at age twenty-one, he did not expect that he’d wind up in this kind of situation. 

he felt like a pervert, wishing that his new neighbor had something darker than sheer curtains. he hadn’t even met you yet, and he’d already seen far more of your body than he should. still, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the sight from the first floor next door. it was like you were teasing him, constantly running around the house in nothing but a lace bra and panties. 

he watched curiously as you threw clothes across the room, obviously irritated as you picked out your outfit. you tutted in annoyance at the lack of options, before finally settling on yet another tiny black skirt. 

you considered it to be drab, uninspired even. megumi however, was raising a brow at the tiny scrap of fabric you were shimmying over your hips. he stood in front of his window, clearly entertained as he watched you bend over in front of the mirror. 

you shrugged your shoulders, content with the way it flattered your ass, at least. 

unaware that you had an audience, you rushed to throw on a low-cut top and find your shoes before you ended up being late. 

if you had known, you probably would’ve risked missing your shift just to see the priceless look on your hot neighbor’s face. 

the front door of your apartment slammed shut as you made your way to the car. he could hear every shuffle of your slippers against the pavement, and he couldn’t help but wonder where you disappeared to every friday and saturday night in such a hurry. 

perhaps he’d ask you, someday. 

if he ever got the guts to talk to you in the first place. 

the first time you introduced yourself to him, he had started to question his own judgment when it came to what he knew about you. you were so kind, and more reserved than he expected. your crimson lips lifted into a gentle smile as you spoke your name, asking for his shortly after. the soft, melancholic melody of your voice met his ears, and it sent a jolt of electricity through his spine. 

it was a far cry from anything he could've expected from peeping through your window. he felt guilty for assuming anything of you, especially when you greeted him with a smile and a plate of warm cookies. 

nobara and yuji thought it was the funniest shit they’d ever seen, watching his cheeks burn with shame as he closed the front door with baked goods in hand. 

it hadn’t helped that you were wearing a low-cut tank top and the tiniest shorts he’d ever seen. he’d spent most of his adolescence relatively sheltered, and he’d never paid the women in his life much mind. 

that all changed a few days later when you practically pulled his face into your cleavage, spinning him around in a crushing hug after he pulled your cat out of a tree.

you had become a consistent presence in his life since you first introduced himself to him, and he now found himself regretting taking those cookies out of your hands on that fateful day. a gentle breeze of vanilla wafted through his nostrils in the gentle spring wind as you spun him around in circles enthusiastically. 

something had changed, he just didn’t know what. you were less withdrawn than before, almost like you had grown comfortable in his presence within a few days. his assumption was mostly true, save for one piece of information. 

you had started to like seeing the blush dusting over his cheeks whenever you spoke to him. you liked it a little too much, it seemed. any intention you had to keep to yourself went quickly out the window when you realized you wanted to know as much as you could about him. 

you couldn’t help but try to get him to open up to you, or look at you for just a moment. 

so as of late, you had been playing it up just a little. you could’ve sworn he saw the hearts dancing around in your irises every time his dark eyes met yours. 

him coming to your rescue in a time of need was just the icing on the cake of the situation. 

you were so grateful for his help, so thankful that he’d been there to save the day. your tone was syrupy sweet as you showered him with gratitude, pressing his arm between your breasts as you led him towards his front door. 

he’d fallen into your trap, he just didn’t know it yet. 

“god. she’s really laying it on thick, isn’t she?” nobara and yuji chuckled amongst themselves. yuji shrugged his shoulders, before picking up your purring calico. 

“can’t help that megumi’s oblivious.” was his reply, followed by another less-than-subtle jab to his friend. “that boy couldn’t take a hint if it saved his life.” 

“that’s a fucking understatement.” nobara mumbled under her breath, waving to the pair as they approached the doorstep. “do you think she’s in over her head?”

“dunno.” he whispered back, scratching gently into your cat’s soft fur. 

they watched you thank him profusely with stars shining in your eyes. meanwhile, megumi was trying really hard to keep his eyes from falling to your tits. 

the entire situation resulted in an onslaught of teasing and laughing as soon as they crossed the threshold of his apartment. 

“your face is red.” his peach-haired friend mocked, plopping himself down on megumi’s sofa. 

“thanks for pointing that out, dickhead.” he frowned, causing nobara to burst into another fit of laughter. 

for a man who was known for being oblivious, even he knew what he was falling into. he didn’t really want it to end, either. however, he was worried about the potential escalation if he didn’t keep himself in check. 

perhaps you were just fucking with him, and it would come to an end when you got bored. there wasn’t any way in hell that you were being serious, right? 

he hoped that this moment would be the worst of it, but he’d soon be proven wrong. 

as spring turned to summer, he started to regret moving out in the first place. it was excruciating to watch you sunbathing in the grass, wearing nothing but a tiny red bikini. you had to be doing this on purpose, he realized. he just didn’t have any proof, and it was driving him insane. 

“megumi!” you called out innocently, beckoning him towards you with sunscreen in hand. fuck. he was so screwed. “i need your help!” 

he let out an audible groan as he crossed into your yard, already knowing what you were going to ask him to do. 

“can you get my back?” your question caused megumi to flush all over, and he nodded after a moment of hesitation. of course he’d be willing to help his friend, even if he thought you were doing this purely to drive him to the brink of insanity.  

you rolled over onto your stomach, your ass on display for him as he tried to keep himself focused. the dark haired man squeezed the tube of sunscreen, warming it up with his hands before his fingers began to move over your back with unnecessary caution. 

you let out a small gasp when his hands pressed into your lower back, rubbing the lotion into your soft skin. he could feel your breathing pick up as his hands traveled up your spine. calloused fingers pressed into the knots woven into your shoulders, then gently passed over your shoulder blades. 

he was trying to be respectful, but he couldn’t stop his eyes from darting downward. he had to keep tearing his eyes away, and he sighed in relief when he finally accomplished your request. 

he rose to his feet, trying his best to keep his thoughts innocent as you offered a sweet and honest “thank you!” 

he watched you relax into the plush towel laid out across the grass, and nearly stumbled over the ledge of the concrete on his way back to his front door. he turned himself back around, focusing too closely on the ground to keep himself from tripping. 

he didn’t know how much more of this he could take. 

he had been avoiding treading outside after that moment, petrified that you’d appear next to him to taunt him with more of your innocent teasing. 

he couldn’t bear to look at you, overwhelmed with guilt from every time had imagined your cute little smile while he had his dick in his hand. things had gotten too out of hand too quickly, and he didn’t know how to deal with the feeling of attraction to you blooming deep within his gut. 

the next time he caught sight of you, it was approaching three a.m. on a saturday morning. he looked over the railing of the porch, watching your car pull into the parking space across the street. he raised an eyebrow when you got out of the car, not missing the clicking of your platform heels against the pavement. he’d seen you in a lot of revealing outfits, but this time was.. different. he spotted the subtle shine of glitter all over your skin and nearly started drooling when you stopped in front of the door to take off your shoes. 

you leaned down to remove the buckles and he watched in horror as your skirt crawled up the back of your thighs. the seam of the fabric barely covered the swell of your ass, leaving him at a loss for words.

once again, it felt like you were teasing him to death without even trying. 

he wondered where you had been for the last few hours, as he hadn’t seen you leave. you looked tired, but not intoxicated in any way. 

peculiar. 

still, he didn’t pay it much mind as he walked back inside his apartment. megumi looked up at the clock, and let out a groan as he read the time. 

so much for getting up early tomorrow. he frowned, kicking off his slippers as he crawled into bed. 

he went to bed that night dreaming about you bent over in front of him, skirt pulled up over your hips with his hands fisted into your hair.

his beauty sleep was interrupted by the sound of a lawn mower revving next door, and he let out a groan as he pulled his pillow around his ears. 

of course. he sighed, scrunching his nose in annoyance as he stared up at the clock. 

after a few moments of grumbling, he finally pulled himself out of the comfort of his plush bedding. a loud yawn reverberated off the walls of the hallway as he shuffled his way to the kitchen. 

he glared out the window as he filled up the coffee pot with water, only at that moment realizing that the loud noises from the mower had ceased. 

megumi grimaced when he saw you chatting with his sister on your front lawn. she must have dropped by to see him, and couldn’t keep herself from saying hi to his cute neighbor. she’d undoubtedly tease him for it later, and he closed the curtains with a frown. 

around ten minutes later, he heard a knock on his front door. when he opened it, tsumiki’s face was stretched into a large shit-eating grin. 

“i met your neighbor.” were the first words out of his sister’s mouth, not a ‘hi’ or ‘how are you?’ he let out a big sigh as she continued. “she’s cute. really cute.”

“i know what you’re trying to do, and the answer is no.” 

“seriously? you haven’t had a girlfriend in what, ever? and you're telling me you’re not even going to try?” her questioning earned her a frown, followed by a scoff. 

“that’s none of your business, tsumiki.” 

his eyes widened when his sister looked out the window, and a smirk appeared on her face. it was obvious she’d taken notice of the way that his window lined right up with yours. 

“hmm.” was all she replied with, and she took a seat on the couch. “how’s gojo?” she asked, changing the subject that she knew megumi wouldn’t budge on. 

“he’s fine. reeling with separation anxiety, but he’s fine.” satoru had a horrible case of empty nest syndrome, wondering what he did wrong for his adult, adopted children to leave him alone in his gigantic apartment. “you should go see him, he misses you.” 

“absolutely not. he’ll try to convince me to move back in with him. he needs a distraction or something.” tsumiki groaned at the idea, even though she had the utmost respect for the man who had taken them both in. 

instead, she traveled to the kitchen to heat the meal she’d brought for her brother. 

the duo sat in silence, snacking on leftovers as the tv drawled on in front of them. it was nice to have his sister there, even if she spent most of their time together probing him with uncomfortable questions. 

a few hours later, the eldest had left him alone in his apartment once again. 

he rose to his feet and made his way to the kitchen, looking over at the mountain of dishes piled into the sink. he turned on the faucet and took a moment to mull over his sister’s questions from earlier. dishware clinked against the metal of the sink as he contemplated her words. 

he supposed she had a point. what was he waiting for? he’d never given anyone the time of day, let alone had them consuming his thoughts when they weren’t around. you had a particular knack for making him nervous, and he didn’t know how to kick his habit of becoming a stuttering mess around you. 

the thought of you alone sent a blush over his cheeks. his large hands reached to turn off the running water. he took a few steps closer to the dining room table, and his eyes darted towards the open window. 

he couldn’t keep his curiosity at bay and slowly pulled open his curtains to see what was happening across the way. 

you were sitting on the countertop, phone pressed to your ear as you swung your bare legs back and forth. you were having quite an animated conversation, he could tell. he watched you roll your eyes, contemplating words that he couldn’t hear. 

you paused for a moment and hopped off the counter to open the fridge. he sucked in a breath when you leaned forward, giving him a perfect view of your ass. 

“holy shit,” he muttered, putting his hands over his eyes before pulling his blinds closed. 

he was in over his head, and he didn’t know how to deal with your growing presence in his mind. it was almost like his brain was his own personal prison, trapped in a cell and forced to watch an endless reel of the precarious situations you’d put him in. 

the next few days were absolute torture, and the summer heat had made his already building frustration so much worse. you spent hours of the day in the bright sunshine, working up a sweat as you tended to the lawn. your choice of attire made him drool from his seat at the kitchen table. against his better judgment, he got more comfortable in his chair as you leaned down to pull weeds from the garden. 

he wasn’t the only person who was stopped in their tracks when you bent over. across the street, an older gentleman was being pulled by his dog as he stood mesmerized by the sight. 

you looked over your shoulder, catching sight of his dark hair through the window. you snickered to yourself, arching your back as you dug further into the dirt with your hands.

he was playing right into your hands. 

you wiped a bead of sweat off your brow, rising to your feet a few moments later. you made sure to lean in megumi’s direction as you reached for the bag of lawn debris, making him regret sitting down in the first place.  

the next day, he had the misfortune of going out to grab the mail. he hadn’t made it very far before he caught sight of you, causing him to flush.

large sunglasses framed your face as you pruned the shrubs in front of your door, and you gave megumi a small wave when you spotted him on his porch. 

“good morning!” you chirped, a large pair of trimmers in hand as you pulled your glasses up to look at him. it wasn’t anywhere near morning, but you could tell that he had just woken up. his hair was still messy from hours of rubbing against the pillow, and you gave him a little smile as you admired his sleepy features. 

“morning.” he choked out in reply. he tried to keep his eyes off you as he wandered to the mailbox, but he was failing in every sense of the word. 

“any plans tonight?” you called out to him with a grin as you watched him attempt to sneak back into the house. 

“going out with some friends. do you have plans?” he didn’t know if he wanted to know the answer to his question, but he proceeded to ask it anyway. he shamefully had your weekend routine damn near memorized, but had yet to figure out where you went after her car door slammed shut. 

“nope, just working. i’ll see you later?” that caused him to raise an eyebrow, followed by a couple lazy nods of the head. 

he was too busy contemplating your words to think of a reply. he didn’t really have the chance to, either. he looked at the time, groaning to himself as he walked back inside. 

it was already pushing three in the afternoon by the time he managed to pull himself out of bed to grab the mail in the first place. 

he was going out in an hour, and the apartment was trashed. his stomach grumbled angrily, and he let out a sigh as he walked towards the fridge. a frown fell over his features as he stared at the bottle of chili sauce accompanied by nobara’s forgotten wine. he found himself fortunate enough to find some chicken in the freezer, but the lack of vegetables was proving to be rather disappointing. 

great. he grumbled to himself as he closed the fridge with a slam. the cabinet didn’t have much either, save for a couple packets of noodles. he really needed to go grocery shopping, but hated the grocery store more than anything in the entire world. 

so instead, he reached for a pan and went to work browning the chicken. he was thankful that tsumiki had brought a collection of seasonings for him after his first week living alone. at least he had something to offset the taste of freezer-burnt poultry. 

after a while of glaring at the pan, he was finally getting somewhere. he reached for a pot, and filled it with water. unfortunately, he’d filled it up just a tad too much. he groaned at the puddle on the floor, and dropped the pot on the burner with a defeated look on his face.

a towel was thrown onto the ground with a huff, and he grimaced at the feeling of cold water hitting the plush fabric of his socks. he was soaking wet from the collar of his shirt down, and he still had the puddle to attend to.  

the chicken wasn’t anywhere near done, and now he had to change to top it all off. he turned down the stove a bit, and shuffled to his room in an attempt to find something to wear to the club later that night. 

when he returned to the pan about twenty minutes later in a new set of clothes, the chicken was still nowhere close to being golden brown. with a roll of the eyes, he abandoned his post for a moment to turn on the television. 

even then, it wasn’t very entertaining for him. a few minutes passed, before his curiosity got the better of him. he could hear the slow rhythm of the song that he knew was your favorite from across the way, and couldn’t keep himself from walking towards the window.  the curtains were pulled aside to reveal you dancing along to the music booming through your apartment. 

your hips swayed in tandem with the music, and he watched curiously as you stretched your arms up. he watched you bend down to touch your toes, and he watched your body relax as you stretched out your sore muscles. 

it had appeared he had gotten too distracted by your preparations before your shift, as he had completely forgotten about his dinner still cooking on the other side of the room. 

his eyes darted toward the stove when the smell of something burning wafted through his nostrils, and he ran towards the pan in an attempt to save his dinner. 

thankfully the chicken was only partially charred, and he pulled it away from the heat just in the nick of time. he let out a sigh of relief, which was interrupted by yet another distraction from outside. 

“fushiguro! you better have your fucking pants on!” his head snapped towards the door at the loud booming of his friend’s voice, and the door swung open dramatically to reveal a grinning yuji. 

“you’re early.” megumi commented, voice flat as he switched the burner the pot was on. the shorter man took a step closer to the counter, and his grin widened when he spotted the food cooking on the stove.

“looks like i made it just in time.” he chuckled, before moving towards the small table across from the kitchen. “is something burning?”

“not anymore,” was the only reply yuji got. 

the noodles didn’t take very long, and soon the pair were sitting across from each other with a hot meal in front of them. 

they fell into a comfortable silence that didn’t end up lasting very long. 

not when yuji was always too observant for his own good. the tv drawled on behind them, though it was almost impossible to watch it even if they wanted to. the glare from the window had blocked out almost the entire picture.

it was one of megumi’s pet peeves, and that was what caused yuji to finally break the silence megumi had been previously enjoying. 

“huh.” the tone in yuji’s voice was curious, and his friend’s head snapped up to find him staring out the window. “your blinds are open.” 

“what?” megumi looked confused, even though he shouldn’t be. his blinds were usually closed, especially on sunny days like this one. it was a small detail to pick up on, but he didn’t want his friend to put the rest of the pieces of the puzzle together. he took a sip of his broth, eyeing yuji down as he awaited his response. 

“nothing.” the reply megumi got was halfhearted, barely hiding a snicker as yuji finished off his bowl of noodles. 

his closest companion had taken a good thing and thoroughly ruined it. the silence was now incredibly discomforting to be in, even for just a minute. megumi hurried to scarf down the rest of his meal, before rising from his seat. 

“nobara’s gonna kick our asses if we’re late.” was his excuse for suddenly rising to his feet, not that his friend was dangerously close to figuring out that he’d been watching you through his window for months. there’s no way it could be that reason. 

“chill, i gotta fix my hair first.” yuji grinned, noticing how desperate megumi was to change the subject. “nobara’s not even gonna be ready by the time we get there.” 

“i don’t understand why you couldn’t do that at home.” the taller man huffed, taking a peek out the window the moment he heard footsteps heading toward the bathroom. 

yuji had promised tonight would be fun. megumi hated clubs, but he had been convinced to go out just once. it seemed that his next-door neighbor was heading out for the night as well, if the tiny dress you were wearing was anything to go by. 

an odd choice of attire to be wearing to work, if he’d say so himself. still, he didn’t think about it too hard as he threw on a black sweater and got ready to leave. 

“i don’t understand why we have to go to nobara’s so early. the club doesn’t even open until like eight.” yuji grumbled, reaching for megumi’s phone charger as he settled into the passenger seat. 

“she said we have to go to the mall first. something about needing an outfit.”

“fuck, and you said yes? we’re gonna get stuck there for the next four hours.” another loud groan met his ears as he pulled out of his apartment complex. 

and they were, indeed, stuck at the mall for nearly four hours. megumi’s car was stuffed to the brim with shopping bags by the time they were done, and they still weren’t even ready to head out for the night. 

a quick pit stop to kugisaki’s was entirely necessary, as protested by the woman herself. the trio shuffled boxes and bags to her apartment, grumbling the entire time as they braved the treacherous walk up the stairs. 

yuji supposed it was only fair to start the party there. he was already raiding her liquor cabinet before he proposed the idea to the rest of his team. 

the words left his lips with a smirk, and he waved around the bottle of cheap booze in his hand to emphasize his point. the same smirk fell over nobara’s features, and she nodded enthusiastically as she reached for two shot glasses. 

megumi found himself wishing he could participate, cursing himself for saying he’d be the designated driver. his mind was plagued with thoughts of you, and a drink would’ve probably been able to help him forget that. 

still, he let the pair have their fun. a small chuckle left his lips as he watched them grimace at the burn of the liquor. nobara gave him a goofy smile, followed by a thumbs up as she ran to her bedroom to change her clothes.

finally, at about eight forty-five, the trio made their way to megumi’s black buick. the sun had already set far into the sky, and megumi let out another sigh as he turned on the engine. 

the car ride down to the bar was filled with loud singing from yuji and irritated grumbles from nobara as she hurried to change the radio station. they struggled to find parking, resulting in them walking through residential streets to get to their destination. he hadn’t expected it to be so busy, but they found themselves weaving through crowds of people to even find a table. 

the music was far too loud for his liking, and pinks and purples shined through his vision as he finally looked up toward the bar. something had caught the attention of countless patrons, who were tripping over each other with credit cards in hand. 

upon closer inspection, he began to understand what everyone was fussing over. the first thing he saw was your tattoo, which he recognized immediately. as his gaze traveled up your long legs, he couldn’t hide the shock written over his features. 

he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. 

in a moment, it felt like you were the only dancer scattered across the stage. 

he sat, frozen in his seat as he watched the men around him foam at the mouth as they scrambled to order shot after shot. hundreds of people filled the room, but his eyes kept falling back on you. dozens of strangers were ogling your figure, watching your tits bounce with every sway of your hips. 

you seemed to be enjoying the attention, basking in the fluorescent lights as you continued to move in rhythmatic circles. you kept moving along to the beat of the music, a sultry smile on your lips as suits and ties bowed at your feet. you had a bottle in hand, heels clicking against the wood of the bar as you danced around glasses with ease. 

the expensive tequila in your hand was merely a prop, but it didn’t keep the patrons around him from ordering round after round in an attempt to impress you. a manicured hand came up to fondle one of your breasts teasingly in rhythm with the words of the song playing. 

his jaw dropped when the light reflected against the metal of your nipple piercings, clearly visible through the thin fabric of your dress. he fought the urge to put his head in his hands, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the sight in front of him. 

you were obviously a lot more interesting than he originally thought you were.  

“oh, that’s your neighbor.” nobara confirmed his suspicions, a smirk on her face as she watched you drop your ass down to the floor. “you should go see if she’ll give you a private dance or something.” 

“nobara!” that caught his attention, and his head whipped around to grimace at her. 

“what? i’m just saying. it’s obvious you have a thing for her.” ever the instigator, the red-haired woman was not going to back down. yuji nodded along with his friend’s words, and he looked at the pair disappointed. 

megumi didn't move an inch for your entire set, utterly mystified as he watched you dance around the bar. it felt almost as though the stage was meant just for you, pedestaled above the wide varieties of expensive liquor. 

he only snapped to reality when he watched you leave the stage, and he caught your head of hair turning out the back door. yuji hit his shoulder rather abruptly, encouraging him to do the one thing he didn’t want to do. 

he took a deep breath and followed you outside. he turned the corner into the nearby alleyway and found you hiding between couples pressed against the side of the building. he took a few steps closer, recognizing the outfit he’d watched you leave the house in. 

he realized how little he knew about you when he watched you light up a cigarette, leaning against the wall with a long exhale. you looked over at him then, dark eyeshadow framing your eyes as they flashed with recognition. your cheeks turned pink, and you bit your lip with a roll of your eyes. 

your cover was blown. there was no point in keeping up the innocent act now.

it wasn’t often that you told people about your weekend plans, and that was for good reason. you just hoped he wouldn’t act like many other people have before.  

“hey, megumi.” you started casually, flicking ash onto the concrete. 

“hey. wasn’t expecting to see you here,” was his reply. megumi wasn’t a man of many words anyway, but you had shocked him into almost complete silence. he was struggling to get every other syllable out of his mouth, but he couldn’t deny how curious he was about you. 

“ha, i get that a lot. are you having fun?” you looked almost completely unphased, besides the light dusting of rose dusting your cheeks. 

“you could say that. you look good.” his words caused your dark lips to curl into a small smirk. 

“thank you, you’re not so bad yourself.” you replied to him in a breathy tone. now, you were definitely doing it on purpose. you just couldn’t help yourself when he looked so handsome with blushing cheeks. 

“you think so?” he was looking a little sheepish, barely able to keep his thoughts innocent with you flirting so blatantly. 

“i know so.” your reply sent a flush to his poor, overwhelmed face. he watched you lean down, effortlessly putting out the cigarette on the bottom of your heel as you turned to walk back into the club. 

“enjoy the show.” you mused, brushing his shoulder lightly as you passed him. 

and he did enjoy every moment, relishing every sway of your hips until yuji was begging him to take them home. he hadn’t had a drop of alcohol the entire night, but he felt more dizzy walking out of the doors of the club than he did after drinking half a bottle of cheap liquor. 

nobara was too buzzed to notice the longing in megumi’s eyes as they walked back to the car, but yuji wasn’t. he held back a laugh as he wobbled his way down the sidewalk next to his usually stoic friend. 

traffic wasn’t terrible, thank god. nobara didn’t have enough energy left to fight about music choices, allowing yuji to blast whatever garbage he wanted as they drove down the highway. 

after a quick detour to nobara’s apartment complex, he finally managed to trudge his way towards the warmth of his bed. unfortunately for him, every parking spot around the block was taken. he groaned, pulling into the only available space and turning off his car with a huff. 

he was almost in the clear.

the only thing that stood in his way was a treacherous walk to his front door. 

with yuji only two doors down, it made getting home in one piece a whole lot easier. that however, would not keep yuji from prodding him for information, just like his sister would. they were so similar sometimes that it scared him. he knew the look in his friend’s eyes before the words even left his mouth. 

“you’re into her.” megumi was hit with boundless accusations as they walked through the damp grass, starting with that one. 

“no, i’m not.” he countered, choosing denial as his tactic for the situation. 

“yes, you are. you’ve got a major resting bitch face, and i didn’t see it once. you were staring at her like a doofus the entire night.” now that he was pointing it out, megumi supposed it was true. he’d been less angry recently, more sexually frustrated than anything else.  

“that doesn’t mean shit, yuji.” he bit back, not trying to have this conversation ever. he wasn’t looking to admit anything close to liking you, choosing to ignore the fact that he couldn’t stop thinking about you even now. 

“really? so you’re telling me you don’t enjoy the fact that she’s always around, shoving her cleavage in your face?” yuji had yet another point. this one earned a rather large scowl. 

“that was one time.” 

“i bet if you asked nicely, she’d do it again.” his friend smirked as he reached his doorstep, and the angry expression made its way back to megumi’s features. 

“shut up.” he mumbled, throwing yuji the middle finger as he turned away to head home. 

it was already far too late for his liking, and he retreated to the warmth of his bedroom within moments of opening the front door. he needed to clear his mind of any and all obstacles that would prevent a good night’s sleep, including the movement of your tits that was now burnt into his memory. 

his head hit the pillow, hoping he’d get a shred of sleep before someone managed to ruin it.  

the clock read just after three a.m. by the time he reached for his phone, as he had been tossing and turning in bed for the last three hours. he rose to his feet, scanning the mess he had left in his room before heading to the club. 

he wondered if his friend was still awake. maybe he’d be willing to help him clean up the gigantic mess he left earlier. 

much to his surprise, yuji responded to his text rather quickly. but that still left one glaringly large problem. 

megumi frowned, piling his clothes into a basket as he made his way to the complex’s shared laundry room. he was so frustrated that nothing was helping, and he couldn’t forget about the metal pierced through his neighbor’s tits. he groaned, turning the corner when he heard the loud rumbling of the washing machine. 

he wondered who was up so late on a saturday doing laundry, but he supposed that he couldn’t judge. he nearly fell over when he saw who was sitting on top of the spinning machine. 

he had to be dreaming.

your eyes were pressed closed, soft gasps leaving your mouth as the laundry rumbled underneath you. a dirty novel was long disregarded next to you, and he wondered what you were thinking about. you let out a low whine as you shifted your hips, lips swollen from biting them in an attempt to keep quiet. 

you were having a hard time keeping your balance over the rumbling machine, struggling to keep your moans hushed as you barrelled closer and closer to release. he watched your hands travel underneath your shorts, reaching for your neglected clit.  

he nearly jumped out of his skin when his basket made contact with the wall, and your eyes shot open at the sound. you stared at him, equally horrified and aroused as he stood cemented in the doorway. 

the pair shared a moment of excruciating silence. your lips parted to speak, but the words died in your throat as you took in his shocked expression. 

before you could address the situation, megumi started to feel his pants getting a little tight. he turned on his heel abruptly, cheeks burning as he shuffled his way back to the apartment. 

the phone in his pocket chimed, and he typed out a rushed response to yuji as he swung his front door open. he couldn’t have his best friend seeing him in such an embarrassing state. 

he had tried to forget your lewd expression, but he couldn’t get the tent in his pants to go down no matter how much he tried. 

guilt burned at his insides as he freed himself from the confines of his pants. his length slapped against his torso, practically begging for some attention. 

he didn’t know how to handle what he had just witnessed. carnal need had started to crawl it’s way up into his chest, and his eyes fluttered closed as he tried to get comfortable on his bed. 

megumi hissed as his hand pressed against the head of his dick, which was already hot to the touch and oozing from the tip. he imagined your tongue running across his shaft, plush lips wrapping around him. he began to rock his hips with the movement of his hand, daydreaming about fucking into your warm mouth. he’d fallen victim to his desire, letting small gasps leave his lips with every stroke of his hips. 

he let out a low growl as he heard a knock on the door, interrupting the movement of his hand. he pulled his sweats back up over his hips, still sporting a gigantic erection as he swung the door open. 

“yuji i told you that you need to fuck off for like twenty minutes, i swear to god-“  his words came to an abrupt halt as he realized who was at the door, and you smirked as your eyes scanned him up and down. 

“hey, neighbor. are you going to invite me inside?” you asked, taking notice of the rather blatant tent in his pants. 

“uh… i guess. i’m kind of in the middle of something-” he flushed, trying to save some semblance of decency. his dick throbbed as you leaned towards him, giving him a full view of your cleavage. 

“i can tell.” he cursed inwardly at your words, trying to ignore the gigantic smirk across your face. “do you need some help?” 

“w-what?” he choked out, the tips of his ears burning. he wasn’t expecting you to be so forward.

“there’s no need to be coy, megumi. i’ve seen you watching me through your window.” you snickered and leaned against the doorframe. 

you’ve got to be fucking kidding. he let out a groan. of course you’d seen him, now you were never going to let him live it down. 

“what were you thinking about?” you continued, watching him deflate in front of you. your curiosity had gotten the better of you, and you took a step closer to him as he struggled to get out his reply. 

“nothing.” 

“doesn’t look like nothing.” you countered, raising a brow as you looked him up and down once again. “were you thinking about me?”

“no.” he grumbled, closing his eyes in frustration. he was trying to keep his eyes off of you, but you were making it damn near impossible. the entire situation was your fault, and now you were at his door making it even worse. 

“are you sure about that?” 

he was convinced you were just teasing him. you couldn’t possibly be serious, could you? 

“you’re doing this on purpose.” he choked out, still not looking at you. he was trying to ignore the loud thumping of his heart in his chest with every word that came from your mouth. 

“doing what on purpose?” your question was sweet and sugary, laced in feigned innocence as you continued. his eyes opened, offering you a glare that didn’t appear too genuine. 

“i’m just trying to help.” you took a step closer to him, and he faltered for a moment. 

“you’re serious?” he asked, and his cheeks burned as he looked down at you. 

“why wouldn’t i be?” was your retort, and he let out the breath he didn’t know he was holding in. 

“what are you waiting for, then?” 

you raised a brow at his response, curious as to where the sudden determination had come from. the nervous look on his features gave you pause for a moment, and you supposed you should probably take it easy on him. 

“you’re quite confident all of a sudden, aren’t you?” you mused, lips inching towards his. “i wonder if you’ll be able to keep up.”

he didn’t bother to give you a response, only a huff of annoyance as he brought you in for a harsh kiss. one arm wrapped around his neck and the other trailed down to palm him through the thin fabric of his sweatpants. you felt him let out a hiss against your lips at the feeling of your fingers wrapping around his length. 

his tongue explored your mouth as you pulled him towards the couch, and you pushed him down lightly as you leaned over him with a smirk. he let out a groan when you sat down on his lap, and you let out a laugh as you brought his lips back to yours. 

the thin fabric of your shorts rubbed against his hard length as you pulled him closer, and you could feel his breathing pick up pace underneath you. your hips slowly began to grind against his, and your efforts earned you a sharp exhale between his kisses.  

his lips didn’t leave yours until he was out of breath. he huffed against your lips as your hands began to wander underneath the soft fabric of his sweater. 

you pulled away to look at the mess you made of him, content with the dazed look painted across his face. his eyes were too focused on your tits spilling out of your shirt to notice that you were pulling his up and over his head. the black sweater was thrown to the floor in haste, and you brought a kiss to each of his flushed cheeks. 

“you’re so cute.” you mumbled dreamily, almost too quiet for him to hear. he offered you a crinkle of his nose in return for your teasing. 

“am not.” the protest was emphasized by a raise of the brow, and he pulled the neckline of your tank-top down to free your breasts. he let out a groan at the sight, bringing one hand up to squeeze the soft flesh in front of him. 

“sure. whatever you say..” you rolled your eyes at his behavior, letting him fondle your chest curiously. long and delicate fingers began to squeeze and grope at your skin. 

an idea crossed your mind as his hands rubbed against the barbells adorning your nipples. your lips met the skin of his neck, and he shivered at the feeling of your tongue swiping over the soft flesh. soft kisses began to travel lower and lower, causing his eyes to widen. 

his hands left your skin when he felt you pulling away, not expecting for you to drop to your knees in front of him. another soft kiss was pressed to his happy trail as you looked up at him with a teasing smile. a shock of electricity shot through his spine when he felt you pulling down the elastic of his sweatpants. 

his dick sprang free in front of your face, and you took a moment to marvel at the sight in front of you. while average in size, his girth was rather impressive. you could feel yourself salivating as one of your fingers ran along the tip. you brought that same finger to your lips, humming appreciatively at the sight before wrapping your hand around the base. 

if you weren’t so absorbed in your own little world, you would’ve seen the shocked expression spreading over megumi’s flushed features. he felt your hand pass from base to tip a couple times, and he let out a groan. that caught your attention, and you met his stormy blue irises with a pout on your lips. 

“you okay up there, ‘gumi?” you teased, running your hand up and down his shaft gently as your warm breath fanned against his skin. 

“sorry i’ve just.. never done this before.” he replied quietly, trying to level his breathing as he averted his eyes from you. 

“that’s okay, just let me know if it’s too much.” your tone was gentle and kind, much like the first time you two met. his eyes met yours again, confusion written all over his features. 

“what do you- oh…” he gasped out, and a shiver ran down his spine as he felt your lips wrapping around the tip of his dick. he was trying not to keel over, knuckles turning white from his harsh grip on the side of the couch. obscene slurping noises filled his ears, and he looked down to find your eyes staring right back at him. 

he had to avert his eyes to keep himself from cumming right then and there, but his eyes kept falling back to you no matter how much he tried. 

you wanted him to see it all, feel it all. 

he didn’t know if he’d be able to last if you kept it up. a hand fell over his eyes in an attempt to keep himself from looking, but one lick of your tongue along the underside of his dick was enough to have him peeking through his fingers. 

you look so cute with your mouth full, he mused. it was embarrassing how quickly he was coming undone in the wetness of your mouth, and he was trying not to let out a whine as you swallowed down more of his shaft. 

something deep inside of him told him not to let it end here, and he gently tapped your cheeks with a loud and whiny huff. you released your lips with a pop, saliva dripping from your lips as you pulled away. 

“everything okay?” you asked, concern lacing your features as you held onto his thighs. 

“yeah.. just need..” a loud groan reverberated off the walls of his living room as you bit down on the skin of his thigh. 

“just need.. what?” you teased, batting your big doe eyes up at him from your position on the floor. “tell me what you want, ‘gumi.” 

“i want you. i need you.” he replied breathlessly, pulling you in for a sloppy, desperate kiss. he grabbed your hips harshly so he could pull you back onto the couch. 

you could feel his toned chest against yours as he leaned over you. he swallowed hard, contemplating his next words. 

“show me how to make you cum.” the words were more akin to a demand than a plea, but you couldn’t deny his curiosity. his hands reached for your shorts, pulling them to your ankles with ease. “wanna hear you scream.” 

your eyes widened, and you gave him a nod as you reached for one of his hands. you led his fingers down to your panties at an excruciatingly slow pace, and his hand left yours to take matters into his own hands. he pulled them off with a huff, staring into your eyes as he tested the waters. 

he raised a brow at you, reaching to pull your thighs apart as he sat between them. “you’re just teasing me now.” he grumbled at your antics, taking note of your actions from earlier as he leaned down to run his tongue along your slick folds. he lapped up your juices eagerly, passing over your clit repeatedly as he explored between your legs. 

he got more comfortable between your thighs, palming the flesh of your ass tightly and spreading your legs further apart. a soft moan left your lips when his tongue settled on your clit. he urged forward, desperate to have you whining and begging in his hold. 

a tempo was found with relative ease, and he grinned into the flesh of your thighs as you bucked your hips against him. 

a soft hum left his lips in approval when he heard you gasping underneath him. he supposed he had to be doing something right, considering how you were reacting to every swipe of his wet tongue. 

he continued his ministrations, now more confident in his ability to please you. a long finger prodded at your entrance curiously, feeling you dripping with desire from just a few minutes underneath him. 

gasps quickly turned into moans as one of his long digits sank into your plush walls. the sound made him look up to find you flushed from the neck up. 

he wanted to see just how far he could take it. 

his middle finger joined his index, and he developed a slow rhythm that had you shaking within minutes. every positive response was only inticicing him further, and his eyes glazed over in determination as the pads of his fingers passed over your g-spot. 

you had to admit, he was a quick learner. 

the moment that he heard the first pitched “fuck.” leave your mouth, he became determined to hear it again and again. 

he grinned against your clit as he felt your muscles clenching around his fingers. loud moans met his ears as he picked up the pace. he had you seeing stars far too quickly, and he had no intention of letting up until you were begging him to stop. 

the kitten licks to your cunt had become harsh sucking motions, and his tongue swirled around your clit with a certain precision that had your toes curling and your legs shaking. 

you let out a broken cry as you came on his fingers, but he still hadn’t stopped the motion of his tongue. he drank up every whine that left your mouth as you shook with overstimulation. 

he was just teasing you now, relishing in the way your thighs clenched around his head as you gasped and writhed under him. you supposed it was his revenge for the months of teasing, and you found yourself relenting as you pulled his lips away from your abused clit. 

“what? too much for you?” he smirked, and you lowered your eyes at him as you pushed him back against the couch. 

“not even close.” as soon as he heard the tone of your reply, he knew he was in for trouble. his eyes widened as you pulled yourself into his lap, straddling his hips as you leaned in to bring your lips to his. he groaned into the kiss as he felt his length rubbing against the soft skin of your stomach. 

your lips left his for only a moment to test his resolve even further.

“have you had enough yet?” you teased, causing him to wrap his hands around your hips. your lips pulled into a smirk as you pulled yourself up and wrapped one hand around his dick. 

he let out a groan when he felt the tip rubbing against your wet folds, which turned into a whine when his dick made contract with your entrance. shaky fingers dug into the flesh of your ass as you eased down on his length. 

“holy fuck.” he gasped out, earning a smirk from you. he felt you wiggle your hips against him, and he could feel every muscle in his body crying out for release as he finally bottomed out inside of you. 

“what? too much for you?” you found yourself parroting his response from earlier. something darkened in his eyes the moment that the words left your mouth. 

his grip on your ass tightened, and you watched the muscles in his arms strain as he pulled your hips up. you wrapped your hands around his neck as he pushed you back down. a shaky gasp left your mouth as you started to rock your hips in tandem with the movement of his hands. 

manicured nails scraped against the skin of his shoulders with every stroke of his hips. your hands fell to his chest, pushing back against him in an effort to rut yourself in time with his movements. he pressed forward, capturing your lips with his in the midst of your passionate embrace. his kisses began to travel down to your neck, turning into bites over the course of a few minutes. his breath caught in his throat when he felt your walls squeezing him, and he couldn’t help but try to elicit more reactions from you.

you let out a sharp gasp when he started sucking on your skin, leaving bruises growing in his wake. he pulled away a few moments later, taking in every small detail of your blushing face.

your lips were swollen once again, matching the same shade from earlier. this time, he was the reason you were struggling to keep yourself quiet. he couldn’t get enough of it. 

it was growing impossible for him to keep himself composed with your tits bouncing in his face every time you moved your hips. in an effort to keep the moans from spilling from his mouth, his lips wrapped around one of your perky nipples as he rocked against you. his tongue lapped against the metal piercing, shortly followed by a gentle bite. 

his efforts earned him a pitched moan, and he felt the muscles in your thighs twitching as he held onto them tightly. the couch creaked with every harsh thrust, mixing with the moans that were reverberating off the walls of the apartment. he was sure he’d get a noise complaint in the mail the next day, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. 

he paused when he felt your hips falter, raising a brow as he watched you struggle to keep up with the movement of his hips. 

“and you were worried that i wouldn’t be able to keep up.” it was almost like megumi was gloating, but you couldn’t be too mad at him. after all, you loved the way his dick was hitting deep inside of you. the movement of his hips came to a halt, causing you to let out a whine as the head of his dick brushed against your g-spot. 

“shut up and fuck me, megumi.” you croaked out, lowering your eyes at him in an effort to get him to do something, anything.  

in an instant, his strong arms were pulling you from his lap. your mouth opened to protest, but the words never got the chance to leave your mouth. all it took was your back hitting the cushion of the couch to hush any complaints from you.  

he smirked at your silence, hiking one of your legs over the side of the couch and holding onto the other by the crook of the knee. he spread you apart once again, and slid himself back inside of you with a long sigh. the new position made your eyes resemble saucers, and you let out a cry as he started moving his hips again. every thrust pressed hard against your g-spot, and you were seeing stars behind your eyelids every time your eyes fell shut. 

“look at me.” he demanded, grabbing onto your chin and pulling it up towards him. your eyes snapped open, meeting his azure ones. he felt you clench again, causing his smirk to turn into a cheshire grin as he picked up the pace of his hips. 

every thrust was hitting so deep inside of you, and you could hear the harsh sound of skin slapping reverberating off the walls. you were so close to the edge – barely holding on as he continued to push himself into the dripping wetness between your legs. 

the muscles in his arm strained once again, and he pushed your knee up further towards your head. his grip on the inside of your knee tightened, signaling that he was just as close to release as you were. his free hand found its way to your clit, and you let out another loud whine.  

that was ultimately your undoing, and all sense of decency went out the window as you scratched into the skin of his back. you brought him in for a harsh kiss, and he let out a loud groan against your lips as you tightened around him. 

you came so hard that you felt dizzy, still holding onto the kiss for a moment longer. the feeling of your insides constricting on him made it almost impossible for him to pull out, and he was so distracted that the thought didn’t even cross his mind. 

well, not until after you felt thick ropes of his cum filling you with warmth. 

“fuck.” you both said at the same time, eyes wide as you shared a moment of realization. you both silently came to the conclusion that it would be a problem for tomorrow, and he pressed a kiss to your cheek as he finally slowed the movement of his hips. 

his grip on your thighs loosened for a moment, and he looked down on you softly. he took a minute to catch his breath, eyes darting over the growing bruises all over your skin. 

“c’mon, the couch is uncomfortable.” he grumbled, lifting you up by the thighs and taking you to his bedroom. you let out a giggle as he carried you towards the bed, and your head hit the pillow with a soft plop. a smile came over your features as you pulled him down with you. his body pressed against yours for a moment, before he moved to settle behind you. 

large, veiny hands made their way around your midsection. he held you close, pressing his back to yours and running soft kisses along your shoulder. you melted into his touch, offering him a pleased hum as you settled into the mattress. 

you looked back at him adoringly, gaze softening even further as his hair tickled your forehead. kisses turned to bites once again, and you let out a small laugh when you felt his hard length pressing against you. 

“sorry.” he grumbled, and you looked at him curiously. you turned around to face him with a soft grin plastered over your cheeks. 

“don’t be sorry. i just think it’s cute.” you replied, pressing a kiss to his temple as you pulled him closer. 

“not cute.” he corrected, and you rolled your eyes. you pulled one of your legs over his hips, giving him a knowing look. he felt his dick rubbing up against your entrance, still dripping with his cum. 

you offered him a gentle kiss as you slid your folds against the tip, before slowly pressing him inside. 

“fuck. i don’t think i’ll ever get tired of that.” he gasped out, holding onto your hips as you slowly began to rock against him. you offered him a shaky laugh in reply to his hushed words. 

the bed began to creak underneath you, and his hips started moving along with yours. it wasn’t long before the bed frame was smacking against the wall, guaranteeing a complaint from the neighbors the next day. 

he didn’t have much concern for it in the moment, too occupied with the way that you were pulsing around him. his large, veiny hands found purchase fondling your tits, squeezing and rubbing the supple flesh with his calloused fingers. 

you weren’t going to last very long if he kept it up like this. especially with one of his hands leaving your tits to run across your clit. 

“fuck, you feel so good.” his deep, gravely admission met your ears as his head fell against your shoulder. 

you squeezed around him again, basking in the meticulous rhythm of his hips. that caused him to bite down on your shoulder as a warning. 

“can’t be doing that.” he huffed against your skin. an unexpected groan left his lips when he felt you clenching him again. “fuck, i’m gonna—” 

one particularly harsh thrust had you coming undone right along with him, and you let out another pitched whine as his fingers continued to circle around your clit. 

you rode out your high together, before his movements finally came to a halt. 

you felt him relaxing into your chest with his face pressed between your breasts. finally worn out and more than content, megumi felt his heartbeat slowing as the smell of your perfume wafted through his nostrils. his eyes began to flutter closed, comforted by the warmth of your skin. 

you were exhausted, but you couldn’t keep the smile off your features as you wrapped your arms around him. your eyes fell shut, listening to the slow drum of his heart as if it was a lullaby meant just for you. 

megumi let out a loud yawn, and opened his eyes. to his disappointment, the space on the bed next to him was empty. he could still smell your perfume wafting through the air. 

a small frown settled over his features as his feet met the cold floor of the hallway, but he froze in his tracks when he saw you making coffee in the kitchen. 

“what’s with the frown? did you think i left without saying goodbye?” you smirked, looking him up and down as you leaned against the kitchen counter. 

you made a fucking mess of him, you could tell. his head of normally messy hair was sticking up in all kinds of places, and it was the worst case of bed-head you’d ever seen. your lips pulled into a smile as your gaze fell down to his neck, admiring the love bites scattered across his clavicle. 

he took a step closer to you, rolling his eyes as he offered his reply. “i was hoping you didn’t. i wasn’t done with you yet.” 

“oh, yeah? can’t get enough?” you snickered and pulled him closer to you. he puffed out his cheeks at your playful words. his cheeks were still flushed, and you loved how responsive he was to your teasing. 

you were enjoying the sight in front of you when the front door opened, revealing a very smug yuji. 

“i fucking knew it!” he yelled, pointing a finger at his friend in an accusatory manner. the taller man frowned, shutting the door in his face before turning back to you with a sheepish smile.

[red-riot-unbreakable-heart]

Sex On Wheels. | Dabi x Hawks 🌶🔥🦅

Pairing: Dabi x Hawks, Keigo Takami x Touya Todoroki

Summary: Hawks is having the worst day ever. He's spent the day modeling in a magazine photoshoot at a goddamn retro roller rink. He's tired, he's overstimulated and now his clothes have gone missing. Wonder who took them!? Now Hawks is stuck wearing slutty lil short shorts and ruby red roller skates when he runs into a certain someone... Enemies to lovers. DabiHawks smut. A18+ MDNI

CW: Blowjobs, handjobs, mention of fucking, kissing, dirty talk

Bed Chem. | Dabi x Hawks

“You ready for the next round of photos, Hawks?”

“Yeah, sure!”

Ugh. No, he’s honestly not. But, whatever! The Number Two Hero’s gotta act the part, right? Photo-shoots are a necessary evil to maintaining his rating on The Hero Chart.

Hawks ruffles his feathers and stretches his arms high over his head as he waits for the makeup gal to touch up his eyeliner. She delicately dabs at his face with a wet cloth, cleaning away the makeup where it’s running down his cheek with sweat. With a flourish, she reapplies the liner. Her motions are delicate, languid. The way she applies each stroke with care stirs some warmth in the winged hero. He tries to seem appreciative as she finishes touching him up.

The makeup lady looks to be in her early 50s. Decked out in black, she fits right in on the set. She has a kind face with greying, flyaway hair tucked into a light blue bandana. She’s nice. Hawks immediately warms to her.

“Don’t worry dear.” She says as she uses a soft brush to dab some concealer under his bright golden eyes. “They said this would be the last shot for the magazine.” The doting tone causes his chest to ache. She has such strong mom vibes. It makes him briefly think about his own sad excuse for a mother and how she sold him to The Commission all those years ago – no. He shakes his head. He can’t let his thoughts go down that dark alleyway. Not right now. Not when he needs to be on.

“Thanks!” He says brightly as the woman folds up her caboodle and stands back to admire her handiwork. He takes the hand mirror she hands him and grins into it, admiring the sharp red wings she’s drawn across his eyelids. “This looks great. Seriously I can’t thank you enough.” He hands back the mirror and she nods gratefully. He doesn’t get to ask her name before he’s whisked back onto set.

“Alright, Hawks. This is the last set up we have for today. Just skate a few laps around the rink with the models and that should give us what we need.” The art director says, flipping through his clipboard of notes absentmindedly.

Hawks nods, eyes glazed over as he zones out. They’ve been at this for hours. It’s a photo shoot for some fashion magazine (or maybe it’s a women’s health publisher!? He’s done so many shoots lately he honestly can’t remember). He’s exhausted and oddly sore from holding so many poses under the hot studio lights. All he wants to do is go back to his quiet apartment, take a cool shower in the dark and fall asleep after a handful of minutes mindlessly scrolling on his phone. But unfortunately…hero duty calls. It’s sort of ridiculous how much popularity seems to matter with being a hero.

The past few hours have been spent down the block taking photos in a sleek, upscale fashion photography studio. For this last bit of the shoot, the Magazine thought it would be fun to have some pictures taken with more…”personality.” It is for that reason that the Magazine has rented out a local roller rink for this next part of the day.

The place is dated but has an odd sort of retro charm to it. The large rink has smooth, freshly waxed wooden floors that glint in the lowlight. The walls are mostly black with glow in the dark accents and corny 80s posters plastered all over the place. The rink has a goofy DJ booth situated in the center under an obnoxiously large disco ball.

And then…there’s Hawks and his final outfit. They’ve put him in a tight fitting white tank top tucked into the tiniest pair of red athletic shorts Hawks has ever seen. His muscular thighs are on full display for all to see, and he’s oddly embarrassed about it. There’s a reason Hawks usually wears layers of clothing while doing his hero work. Of course, it gets cold flying in the air. That’s a given. But his thick coat and pants also serve to hide his body from the greedy eyes of the public. He liked being cozy and protected from the prying eyes of the world. He could pretend to flaunt and flirt all he wanted, but at the end of the day he wanted some part of his body to feel like his.  It would be nice to have some sense of ownership over his own life.

But now here he is, in the world’s sluttiest little outfit, about to roller skate in circles while photographers captured pretty pictures of his confident façade. Jeez, this sucks.

He bends over and adjusts the striped high socks the costuming department had given him to wear under his bright red roller skates. This has got to be one of the worst outfits he’s worn in his entire life (And he’s worn some pretty atrocious outfits).

“Alright, places everyone!” The art director claps his hands and Hawks stands up and glides on his skates towards the middle of the rink track. There’s models everywhere wearing similarly slutty outfits – shorts and tank tops and high socks and bright 80s skates.

“Oh, Hawks.” The art director calls his way. The Winged Hero turns, eyebrows raised in a question. “What music do you want to listen to?”

Oh. That’s nice of them to ask. Hawks relishes in the tiny thing he’s been allowed to have control over. He bites his lip as he thinks it over.

“Can you play some 80s New Wave?” He asks, trying to sound like he doesn’t care if they do or not. The art director nods and waves for the sound tech to plug his iPhone into the DJ both audio jack.

“Alright, start skating everyone. We’ll call out suggestions as you go.” The photographers get into place on the outskirts of the rink. Hawks notes warily that a few of the photographers have been given skates of their own. This photo shoot is a fuckin’ lawsuit waiting to happen.

Nevertheless, he starts skating around the rink. The sooner he gets this over with, the better. As usual, he turns on the fucking charm. He chats with the models – all tall and beautiful and glowing as they grin and fake laugh at his jokes for the camera. He winks and flaps his wings flirtily and even skates on one leg just to give them some extra material to work with. The less direction he gets from the art director, the sooner he can leave.

Music starts to blast from the DJ booth – some top 40 pop crap that is most definitely not the 80s New Wave tunes that Hawks requested. Ugh.

They skate around for three full songs before something good finally comes on the playlist – it’s Bed Chem by Sabrina Carpenter. Now this Hawks can fuck with.

I was in a sheer dress the day that we met We were both in a rush, we talked for a sec

Hawks starts to skate faster, maneuvering his way around the gyrating models hamming it up for the camera.

You're friendin' me up so we could connect And what are the odds? You sent me a text And now the next thing I know, I'm like Manifest that you're oversized I digress, got me scrollin' like Out of breath, got me goin' like

Damn Hawks is a slut for a good beat. He spreads his arms out wide and as he soars across the roller rink floor, he swears it feels like he’s flying. His red wings puff up behind him and spread wide as he makes a sharp turn. He glides in front of a row of cameras gracefully, grinning toothily at the photographers as he whips around on one foot and starts to skate backwards.

“That’s it, Hawks! Everyone match his pace – try to look carefree!” The art director calls out as he claps, directing the models to loosen up a bit. “Give me a few more laps around the floor and make me believe you’re having fun!”

Ooh (ah) Who's the cute boy with the white jacket And the thick accent? Like Ooh (ah) Maybe it's all in my head But I bet we'd have really good bed chem

Hawks is really getting into a groove now despite the burning exhaustion that’s starting to creep up his thighs. (Note to self – add roller blading to the workout regimen, you’re clearly missing some key muscle areas!). He passes a cute male model – a tall guy with dark hair and a nose piercing who is also wearing an offensively tiny pair of shorts – and winks. The model blinks in surprise, clearly flattered, before he smiles widely back. Hawks strikes up a conversation as they skate side by side, shamelessly flirting with the guy and complimenting his equally skimpy outfit. The guy is kind of funny and definitely cute. With his dark hair and pierced features, he reminds Hawks a little of someone, but he can’t quite put his finger on who…

How you pick me up, pull 'em down, turn me 'round, oh, it just makes sense How you talk so sweet when you're doin' bad things That's bed (bed) chem (chem) How you're lookin' at me, yeah, I know what that means and I'm obsessed Are you free next week? I bet we'd have really good-

“Alright, that’s a wrap! Everyone bring it in.” The music cuts and Hawks glides his way towards the Art Director alongside all of the models. As the music fades and the disco ball lights cruise to a stop, exhaustion begins to sink into all of his muscles.

“Thanks Hawks! Great job, everyone! I think we have what we need.” The art director and the camera people all huddle up to review a few shots and seem quite pleased. Hawks lets his shoulders relax. He looks up at the disco ball sadly, feeling his own sparkle fade along with the music.

“I’m so sorry! So so incredibly sorry! Let me go and check the photo studio again, maybe someone brought them back over to our first location by mistake?” A PA helping out the wardrobe department frantically types into her cell phone as Hawks looks on, exasperated. He’s trying to maintain his usual easygoing public persona, but Christ is it becoming harder by the minute to be nice. The girl hits send and looks up, tired eyes wide with panic. “Have I told you how sorry I am?”

“Hey.” He says, tight smile stretched across his face. He’s exhausted and sweaty and could really use a shower right now. “It’s a-oh-Kay! I know how stressful it is to run these things. Please take your time, I’m sure you’ll find them.”

The girl nods gratefully and sweeps off to find a production van so she can go checkout the photo studio for his clothes.

Yes, you read that right: his clothes. His entire duffle bag of clothing has gone missing. Someone has misplaced his sweatpants, t-shirt, sneakers annnnd his custom made black hoodie with large slits in the back to accommodate his wings.

So to top off an already exhausting day, he’s stuck in his embarrassingly miniscule shorts.

They’ve finished taking the hot lights down, reducing the temperature in the roller rink by about 40 fucking degrees. Cool AC drifts throughout the chasmy space. And that would be a great wonderful amazing goddamn thing if he weren’t wearing a paper-thin tank top. His nipples perk up at the cold air and stand out like sore thumbs in this paper bag of a shirt. He crosses his arms across his chest self consciously. Fuuuuck this goddamn day to all hell.

In the wake of the production team packing up the lighting equipment, Craft Services has set up an impressive spread of food beside the rink. Most of the crew and models are snacking and laughing in the tiny cafeteria off to the left where the rink likely hosts kid’s birthday parties. (Hawks honestly wouldn’t know – he didn’t have any birthday parties as a kid. It just seems like the kinda thing people would do in a goofyass place like this).

The place is so goddamn loud. The crew is chattering and laughing and calling out to one another across the space as they snack and pack up equipment. Someone’s put on background music and it’s the worst type of rap. Craft Services is banging around pots and crockery as they put out new dishes on the food table. All of the layers of sound and noise are far too much for Keigo’s sensitive ears and feathers, and he feels so incredibly over stimulated he doesn’t know what to do. He prays that the PA can find his noise canceling headphones, but he’s low on both patience and hope.

Hawks is grateful to see that everyone is either wrapped up in the little after party or in packing up photo equipment. For once, he goes unnoticed.

He rubs his hands up and down his goosebumped arms a few times and tries to consider his options. The wardrobe department can likely cut wing holes into a shirt and jacket in a pinch. He’s sure they must have something comfy he can wear for his flight home. Or maybe he can pay one of the PAs to run out to a local clothing store with his credit card. The problem with either of these options is that they are going to take time. Hawks really isn’t in the mood to stick around this neon hell much longer.

He takes a deep breath in and lets it out slowly to regulate his nervous system. Today is just one of those days when everything is out of his control and he just needs to – ugh he hates this phrase – go with the flow.

Okay, first priority. He needs a quick reset. If he finds the restroom, he can wipe off this damn makeup and splash his face with some water. Do some breathing exercises. Calm down his nervous system.

He awkwardly skate-walks (oh yeah, did I mention that he’s still wearing the goddamn ruby red-Dorthy-There’s-no-place-like-home-fucking-roller skates? Right. Because someone misplaced his Nikes. And to top it all off he can’t walk around in just the high striped socks because someone broke a stage light bulb and no one will let Japan’s Number Two Hero accidentally get a foot full of glass.) across the foam floor towards the men’s restroom.

He pushed open the door to see a few stalls with floor to ceiling doors alongside some urinals lining the lime green walls. All the neon on top of all the noise is making him feel a little woozy with overstimulation.

As he moves to enter the restroom some of his feathers on his wings prickle to life in warning, but he breathes deeply to calm them down. When he’s over stimulated like this his body tends to react to everything as a fight or flight situation. If anyone else is using the restroom right now it could be setting off his feathers, which can pick up on even the smallest of nearby vibrations.

Calm down. He repeats over and over in his mind as he tries to shake his feathers back into place. The only villain here is whatever production assistant misplaced my goddamn pants. Now let’s focus on solutions.

The weather’s not too cold out – maybe he should just hedge his bets and fly home in these stupid little shorts. If he flies high enough, there’s not shot that anyone would see him looking like such a dumbass.

Where the flooring outside was a foamy material that was easy to maneuver on skate wheels, the restroom floor is smooth black linoleum. As the door swings shut behind him he sees a “NO SKATES, SNEAKERS ONLY IN RESTROOMS” sign posted near the doorframe. Damn. He carefully places his steps and grips one of the sinks to minimize his rolling. The skates love the linoleum floor and seem to want nothing more than for him to freeskate his way around the dinky little restroom. Fat chance.

He grips the sink with both hands and stares at the drain for a few moments, breathing deeply in and out as he tries to master himself. The strategic side of his brain scrambles to make an actionable game plan. Something easy that will get him from Point A (this shitty day and this shitty roller rink) to Point B (home).

Alright Keigo. Splash some water on your face. Then make a beeline for that nice makeup lady and ask her to help you find someone form wardrobe to help you out of this mess. It’ll be fine. All you’ll need to do is crank up that Number Two Hero charm.

Alight. Yeah. That’ll work.

Feeling a tiny bit more confident now that he has a plan, Keigo pulls himself up to look at himself in the long counter mirror. His sharp eyes widen in surprise and he almost growls from the back of his throat.

There, in the mirror he can see Dabi standing behind him, leaning against the lime green florescent wall as casual as you please. He’s wearing a tight black turtleneck sweater tucked into loose black canvas pants. His hands rest in his pockets, looking harmless. A toothy grin stretches across his face, his bright teeth contrasting sharply with his mottled, patchwork skin. His bright aqua eyes are narrowed threateningly as if to say “caught ya.”

“Hey birdie.” He says softly. “Miss me?”

“Fuck Dabi. What the hell are you doing here. There are civilians around. I’m at work right now.”

Dabi smirks and mouths ‘at work’ as if it’s a fun little joke between the two of them.

“That your new work uniform?”

Dabi takes a step towards the door, and Keigo tenses.

“Hey, now Hawks. Calm down.” He says easily as he reaches out a hand to click the door’s lock into place. “Just ensuring us some privacy.”

“How’d you even get in here?” Hawks asks, on edge. He’s exasperated – he can’t catch a fucking break today.

“You know the funny thing about sets like this…you just walk around in black and no one bats an eye.” Dabi says smoothly, looking down at Hawks with

Keigo grips the sink as he carefully turns himself around to face Dabi on his roller skates. His wings feel so cramped and hard to maneuver in this tiny space, but he somehow manages. Dabi waits for him to turn around, smirking all the while. This is so fucking embarrassing.

“I have a request for you from the Paranormal Liberation Army.”

“You mean you have another test for me.”

“You’re smarter than you look, pretty boy.” Dabi drawls, crossing his arms and leaning his head back against the neon green wall. “The upper brass is not fully convinced you’re loyal to our cause yet.”

“Great. Got it. Just tell me what I gotta do and leave.” Keigo is practically seething.

“Wow, someone’s got their little hero panties in a twist.” Dabi quirks an eyebrow upwards in surprise. “What happened to you today? Usually you’re mister sunshine.”

Dabi’s face is suddenly very close. He lifts a scarred hand towards Keigo’s face as if he wants to touch it, but then thinks the better of it. His arm drops limply to his side.

“…something up?” He asks, his face dropping into a frown. Usually they’ll go back and forth with some infuriating banter. But tonight, Hawks is all teeth and anger. It’s unsettling.

“Just a shit day.” Hawks says through gritted teeth. “Tell me what you need from me already and I’ll do it.”

Dabi takes a step back, considering him with more care.

“Nah. I’ll find you later this week and give you the assignment. Your vibes are off right now.”

“Of course my fucking vibes are off. I’m stuck in some godforsaken 80s fever dream wearing a cursed fuckin’ outfit.”

Dabi looks at him appraisingly, eyes lingering on the way Hawks’ slim waist dips into his short shorts. “It’s not so much cursed as it is…slutty.” The observation is more appreciative than mocking.

Keigo’s eyebrows fly up his forehead.

Slutty!?

Usually he’s so careful with how he shows emotion – so diligent about being the perfect little spy for The Hero Commission. But right now he’s tired and over stimulated and Dabi – his mother-fucking enemy – just called him slutty using a tone that makes Keigo want to melt into a puddle of hormones and arousal.

Dabi stares down at him, expression steely and unreadable.

The vibe in the little neon bathroom has shifted, and they both know it.

“Did you just call me…slutty?” Keigo preens a bit, trying to stand up straighter but failing miserably in his slippery skates. He leans back into the porcelain sink to keep from sliding to the ground.

“No I called your outfit slutty, shithead.” Dabi says, jerking his chin up at Hawks. His eyes narrow, a hunter surveying his prey. “Look at those fuckin’ shorts. It’s like you’re begging to be fucked or something.”

“Excuse me?” Keigo can’t believe his ears. His grip on the sink tightens. He can’t decide if he wants to throw a punch at Dabi’s pretty fuckin’ face…or if he wants to…kiss him!?

“You heard me, birdie.” And the guy fuckin’ smiles. He flashes those bright white teeth in a way that makes him look both gorgeous and terrifying.

At this point Hawks is extremely aware of two things:

Thing One: He’s always had a weird thing for Dabi since they first met at the Liberation Army headquarters a few months ago. Dabi is the only one who truly sees right through all of his Commission-trained charm and bravado – the only League member who still doesn’t quite trust Hawks. Hawks loves a good challenge. Relishes it. And Dabi is a challenge in so many delightful ways. And Dabi is hot. He’s so goddamn tall. And he’s just Keigo’s type – covered in piercings and emo accessories and dark and brooding. A perfect balance to the faux sunshine Hawks has been trained to radiate out at all times. Keigo’s never seen the man shirtless, but in the early morning moments between dreaming and waking he’s often imagined what could be laying in wait for him beneath those layers of leather and black clothing. Yes, Hawks is attracted to Dabi. There’s no way around that.

Thing Two: Keigo’s  little shorts are starting to feel…tighter. Keigo is an absolute sucker for teasing and dirty talk. And with all that Dabi’s saying to him right now…well, Keigo is getting hard and there’s nothing he can do to hide it.

And Dabi is noticing.

“All that for me, birdie?” Dabi says, eyeing Hawks’ package appreciatively. “Looks like it was worth my time to come all this way out here after all.

Keigo can’t hide the fierce blush creeping up his cheeks.

“Listen. Let’s drop the PLF shit for a bit.” Dabi says, shrugging his shoulders and holding his palms open, almost as if in surrender. “You know I don’t trust you, and no amount of “assignments” or “missions” are gonna prove your loyalty to me. I know you’re some sort of fuckin’ Hero Commission spy.”  Dabi lifts his hand to his ear so he can play with one of his earrings, twisting the piercing around in his finger. “But I don’t really give a shit about that work stuff right now. It sounds like we both had shit days, and there’s something I wanna do.”

He takes a step towards Hawks, slow and catlike. Hawks is on edge, wary. A base part of him revels in the intense look of Dabi’s bright aqua eyes. With a stab of surprise in his gut, he realizes that the hot, tall, pierced photo model he was rollerskating with had been reminiscent of Dabi.

Oh! That’s who that hot guy reminded me of. Hawks thinks as he tenses for some kind of blow or attack. “Hey, Dabi. You don’t model on the side, do you? I met a guy who looks like you earlier. Real emo and attractive in a weird, pierced sort of way.

Dabi stops in his tracks, inches away from Hawks. “You think I’m attractive in a…” Dabi snorts. “Weird, pierced sort of way?” What little air lies between them crackles with electricity.

“Well…” Oh shit, did he really just say that out loud? Yeah, he’s always thought Dabi is attractive. How could anyone not think that Dabi is attractive? He hadn’t meant to verbalize it, though.

“Shut up. Damn bird.” Dabi closes the gap between them, grabbing Hawks’ chin hard between his thumb and forefinger. Before the wing hero can send out a barrage of sharp feathers his way, Dabi smashes their lips together in an aggressive kiss.

Oh. Holy. Fuck.

Hawks moans into the kiss as their mouths connect again and again and again.

Dabi is a goddamn dream of a kisser. His style consists of hot open-mouthed kisses punctuated by nicks of staples and teeth. His bottom, toasted lip is a bit dry compared to the top one, but it feels good all the same when it slides against Hawks’ own wet mouth. Dabi leans forward, his arm snakes in between Hawks’ own hand and hip to rest on the sink so he can#dabihawks#my hero academia#mha#boku no hero academia#boku no academia#bnha#boku no hero#bnha manga#anime#keigo takami#mha hawks#hotwings#bnha hawks#mha touya#touya todoroki#bnha touya#dabi#todoroki touya#bnha dabi#hawks#HotWings#Dabihawks#dabi x hawks#hawks x dabi#keigo takami fluff#mha takami keigo#bnha keigo#Keigo Takami x Touya Todoroki#Todoroki#touya x keigo prop himself up. He uses his other hand to continue to hold Hawks’ face in a vice like grip as they kiss and kiss and kiss.

Hawks doesn’t know what to do with his hands or his body so he just focuses on the way that Dabi’s mouth and tongue dance across his own. Dabi licks the bottom of Hawks’ mouth before tugging his lower lip between his teeth. Hawks groans into it, letting Dabi do whatever the hell he wants. It’s delightful and sweet and dirty all at the same time.

When they finally break apart, they’re both breathing heavy. Dabi’s striking blue eyes are half-lidded as he gazes down at Hawks.

“Take off your shirt.” Dabi says in a low, gravely rasp. Hawks doesn’t need telling twice. He uses one hand to keep bracing himself against the sink (the damn roller skates are barely holding up his shaky legs right now), and uses the other to peel the thin tank top off of his quaking body.

“That’s better.” Dabi says, stepping back a bit so he can admire the hero’s chiseled physique. “I figured you were ripped, but holy shit.”

He slides his palm down Hawks’ neck and across the bulging muscles of his chest. “This is insane.” He dips his hand lower to feel the hero’s washboard abs before dipping a finger underneath the waistband of those godforsaken tiny shorts. Hawks hisses at the feeling of hot fingertips so close to the tip of his cock. He’s instantly rock hard and left wanting when Dabi slides his fingers back up and makes sure to snap the waistband of the shorts soundly against Hawks’ stomach.

Dabi must see the desperation in Hawks’ sharp eyes because he whispers: “Patience is a virtue, little hero.” He takes a step back from Hawks and discards his own shirt, pulling the turtleneck up and off of his head. It leaves his black hair looking fluffy and staticky. He then steps back towards the hero and leans his head down so he can kiss his way across Hawks’ jawline. Hawks can barely breathe he’s so turned on right now. Dabi continues to make his way down Hawks’ neck, stopping to suck on his pulse point. The winged hero moans at the feel of Dabi’s lips, rough and soft at the same time.

Dabi takes care to make out with Hawks’ neck for a bit – pressing those hot lips of his over and over to the delicate skin beneath the hero’s jaw and along his shoulder. Hawks could stand like that forever, letting Dabi lavish him with kisses and licks.

Hawks is taken by surprise when the scene escalates, and out of nowhere the villain drops to his knees. Before Hawks even knows what’s happening, Dabi has pulled his tiny shorts and underwear straight down to the ground. His proud cock bounces out, fully erect and standing ready for action against dense golden curls. Dabi takes a moment to admire it, licking his chapped lips as Hawks’ dick stands at attention, a drop of shiny precum clinging to the flushed tip.

“Knew you’d be pretty.” Is all he says before he practically inhales Hawks’ cock.

“Fuck – ah!” Hawks almost falls (well, rolls) over in surprise as Dabi licks the tip of his cock and takes it in his stapled mouth. The contact feels so deliciously good – Dabi’s mouth is warm and hot in all the right ways. It’s been so long since Hawks has had good head, and Dabi is most certainly going to give him good head.

Dabi wastes no time as he hollows out his cheeks and begins bobbing his head on Hawks’ dick. He snakes a hand up to the winged hero’s waist to hold him in place, ruby red roller skates be damned. His other hand makes its way upwards to grip at the meat of Hawks’ left thigh. His fingertips dig into the hard muscle, and somewhere in the back of Hawks’ hormone-addled mind, he knows that there will be bruise marks burned into his skin come morning.

Hawks’s cock feels like its in heaven, and his brain is hazy with lust as he looks down at this fucking god of a villain who’s sucking him off in a neon green roller rink bathroom.

Dabi throws him a brief but smug look with those sharp, turquoise eyes and it causes Hawks’ stomach to squeeze and flip. His heart pounds in his chest and he needs to remind himself to breathe, goddammit when Dabi pulls his mouth off with a loud “pop!” and begins licking up and down Hawks’ shaft.

“Fuck Dabi. Yeah – j-just like that.”

Dabi flutters his tongue across the sharp veins of Hawks’ dick, making his way upwards slowly. When he finally gets to the tip, he swirls his tongue around the sensitive space just beneath the head before sucking the thick member back into his mouth. Hawks sees stars.

Dabi continues on like that for a bit – alternating between licking and sucking and just generally doing magical things with his mouth as Hawks looks on, dumbstruck.

In a spark of inspiration, Dabi reaches up and puts his hands on Hawks’ slim hips, thumbs digging into the divots of muscle that fall into a “V” shape as his waist tapers off. The patchwork villain jerks the blonde’s hips forward slightly, and Hawks glides towards him. Dabi wraps his mouth deeper around Hawks’ cock, pushing and pulling the blonde back and forth across the linoleum floor on those stupid roller skates. He’s sliding in and out of Dabi’s mouth – absolutely face fucking the hell out of him in a languid, controlled sort of way.

It’s sexy.

It’s hot.

It’s far too much.

“Dabi.” Hawks practically sings as the villain picks up his pace, still using the roller skates to his advantage. Hawks can feel his orgasm building like kindling catching into a bonfire. “Dabi.”

“Hmm?” Dabi’s eyes flick up to look at him almost lazily as he continues to suck.

“I’m gonna…Shit that’s good! I’m gonna cum…” Hawks doesn’t know how much longer he can last like this, being absolutely manhandled by his enemy. He feels heat prickle across his face as he chases his high in Dabi’s mouth.

The villain acknowledges Hawks by digging his fingers harder into the blonde’s sensitive hips with the intention of bruising. He continues his even pace – pushing and pulling Hawks’ cock in and out of his mouth with practiced skill. God does Dabi love roller skates right now.

“Dabiiii.” Hawks moans out through gritted teeth, feeling the orgasm begin to roll through him. When the dark haired villain doesn’t relent, Hawks figures he’s alright with getting cum in his mouth. He lets go – all of the days stress and exhaustion coming out of him in one golden wave of pleasure. His crimson wings fluff up and fan out behind him in ecstasy. He cums hard into Dabi’s mouth, the orgasm rolling from the base of his cock onto Dabi’s waiting tongue.

Dabi holds Hawks gaze – Blue eyes boring into Hawks’ golden-brown ones. Hawks shudders as he cums, watching Dabi’s hot mouth take everything he’s willing to give. For his part, Dabi is sure to keep sucking in time with Hawks’ orgasm, tasting the hero’s hot salty cum on his tongue. Dabi makes a show of swallowing, letting Hawks see the way that his mouth and throat are working overtime to accommodate the hero’s thick load.

Hawks comes down slowly, his sensitive cock still twitching as it pumps out the last remnants of pleasure. Dabi has brings a hand down from Hawks’ hips and wraps it around the hero’s sensitive base, slowly jerking at him as he comes back to himself. When he’s finally finished, Hawks all but collapses backward into the sink, panting as he desperately tries to catch his breath. Dabi releases the hero from his grasp, leaning back on his heals and wiping his juicy mouth on his sleeve.

He smirks up at the wing hero who’s currently looking fucked out and boneless. “That good?”

“Good enough. Clearly.” Hawks says, rolls his eyes. “Well you’re down there, mind unlacing these fuckin’ things?”

For once, Dabi doesn’t have a biting retort or complaint. He dutifully unties Hawks’ ruby red roller skates and helps him step out of them. Once out of the skates, the tiny shorts drop the remainder of the way down Hawks’ calves and land on the floor in a heap, leaving him in nothing but tall striped socks.

“Ugh note to self: never wear roller skates again. Fuck those are uncomfortable.” Hawks wiggles his toes on the linoleum and bends over to massage his calves and ankles.

“I dunno…I kind of liked them.” Dabi says, rising from the floor. Hawks closes the distance between them and slides his hands up into Dabi’s hair, pulling the villain’s mouth back to his own.

“Fuck.” Hawks says between kisses. “Who would have thought you could give head like that?”

Dabi smirks into each searing kiss, letting Hawks manhandle him desperately. The blonde lets a hand wander down Dabi’s neck and across his back, feeling the taught muscles there. He brings his other hand down to palm at the villain’s pants and is unsurprised to find him rock hard and wanting. Dabi rolls his hips into Hawks’ hand and laughs into his mouth at the contact.

“What you gonna do about that, hero?” He hisses before turning his face to lick up Hawks’ jawline. The blonde shudders at the hot, wet contact.

“Do you have a condom on you?” Hawks asks, breathless as he pulls away from Dabi’s face and blinks up at him, unsteady.

“What do I look like to you, a damn vending machine - ” Hawks claps a hand to Dabi’s mouth, cutting him off. He smirks up at the villain, rolling his eyes almost playfully.

“Alright, blowjob it is!” He pushes Dabi hard in the chest, guiding him to the neon green wall.

“Ugh.” The villain says, looking at the painted concrete wall with disgust. “This place looks like it’s covered in, like, a thousand STDs.”

“It’s called neon, dumbass.” Hawks holds his palm flat against Dabi’s chest, ensuring the dark haired man’s back is flush against the wall. There’s a crackle coming from the ceiling and Hawks glances upwards to see a vent to their left. Huh, they must have just turned on the AC. The chilly, mechanical breeze of air conditioning hits Hawks’ hot skin, cooling the sweat of his back. Goosebumps jump across his skin as he looks down at his naked body, suddenly feeling a bit too exposed.

“Hold that thought.” He makes a gesture for Dabi to stay where he is. The villain watches him, an almost bored expression coloring his eyes as Hawks scoops up his teeny tiny shorts and slips them back on, one leg at a time.

“Aw, the show’s over?” Dabi says flatly. Hawks whirls around to face him.

“Oh no, we’re just getting started.” Hawks tilts his head at Dabi, throwing on his charming camera-ready smile. For a moment, the villain seems frozen, almost speechless. Hawks is a little surprised – he knows his thousand-watt hero smile can have devastating consequences when executed correctly, but he never thought that Dabi would get caught up in it the same way his fans seem to.

Hawks takes a step back towards Dabi, crowding up into his space. He slides his hand up to grip at Dabi’s jaw, forcing him to tilt his head down to fully look Hawks in the face.

“You think I’m pretty, don’t you?” the hero whispers pompously.

Dabi glowers down at him. “Well I wouldn’t suck off just any ugly bastard, now would I? I’m selective.”

Hawks lets go of Dabi’s face and roughly pushes it aside. “That’s not good enough. You want my mouth on your cock? Do better.”

“I don’t need to take this shit from you.”

“Um. Actually, you do. I don’t see any other handsome heroes lining up to top you off.”

Dabi actually smiled at this – his face stretching into a full grin that goes all the way up to his eyes.

“I like it when you’re feisty.” He says, dipping his head to catch Hawks’ mouth in another scorching kiss. The contact leaves Hawks breathless and wanting more. “Of course I think you’re goddamn beautiful. I wouldn’t want you so badly otherwise.” Dabi says, pulling his face away from the hero’s.

“That’s all I needed to hear.” Hawks says softly before attacking Dabi’s neck with his mouth. He licks a hot stripe across the other man’s throat, then finds a piece of clean, unblemished skin to bite into. He lets his canines press down on the delicate skin before he sucks the spot into his mouth. A hickey blooms instantly beneath his lips and Dabi groans, delighted at the mix of simultaneous pain and pleasure.

“Do that again.” The villain practically commands, reaching between them to palm at his hard on.

“I dunno, you’ve barely got any skin left that isn’t charred.” Hawks says simply. Not mockingly, just observing. He doesn’t want to unintentionally dole out more damage.

“Fuck if I care. Put your teeth wherever you want.” His hand climbs its way into Hawks’ thick blonde hair, fingers wrapping around the bushy locks. He gathers a few curls at the nape of Hawks’ neck and pulls gently, causing Hawks to moan at the unexpected contact.

“Keep making pretty little noises like that and you’ll make me cum before you even get my cock in you.” Dabi gives another experimental tug and Hawks’ knees nearly buckle he’s swooning hard for this idiot. He takes a deep breath and decides to regain control of the situation, pushing Dabi’s hands out of his hair and dropping to his knees before the emo flame wielder. He reaches out and undoes the button to Dabi’s loose pants before pulling the zipper down as far as it can go.

To be honest, Hawks is having a ton of intrusive thoughts about Dabi’s dick – does his dick have a patchwork of charred flesh with staples holding it together? Does he have it pierced? Is he well endowed? Each of the possibilities is intriguing in its own way, and Hawks is eager to unwrap Dabi like a present on his fucking birthday.

Dabi doesn’t resist as Hawks slips the baggy pants down his slim hips and onto the ground. His legs are long, toned and crisscrossed with staples. The skin is mottled with purple, but less so than his torso. His thighs are surprisingly muscular and thick. Goddamn he’s beautiful. Beneath those baggy pants, he’s wearing a pair of charcoal boxers that leave little to the imagination. Hawks’ eyes widen as his greatest hopes are confirmed – Dabi is fuckin’ packing.

The villain’s dick is outlined beneath the underwear – a hard line leaning left. There’s a small damp spot on the front of the boxers where Dabi’s dick has leaked precum during all of their foreplay. The visual is incredibly hot.

“Why’d ya stop?” Dabi asks in a husky voice, hands on his hips as he stares down at Hawks’ whipped expression. “Intimidated?”

Hawks quirks his mouth up in a small smile. “You wish.”

Dabi barks out a laugh in response, moving his fingers beneath the elastic waistband of his boxers and tugging them down in a swift motion. His cock springs to attention, coming up to kiss his abs as it stands fully erect and flush with arousal.

Hawks was wrong – his cock isn’t burned, charred or pierced. But he was right about it being fucking massive. Dabi’s cock is beautiful – long with some weight to it, the tip flushed with excitement. Hawks has had a few steamy rendezvous over the years with other men, but never has he seen a dick this pretty. He practically salivates as he takes it in.

“Like what you see?” Dabi says, stretching his arms up and behind his head as his cock twitches excitedly against his slim but toned stomach.

“Absolutely.” Hawks says, licking his lips slowly as he reaches up to smooth the palm of his hands down Dabis’ perfect hip bones. “How do you hide all of this in those ridiculous leather pants of yours?”

This makes Dabi snort. This may be the first time Hawks has heard has hear d a genuine laugh from the man, and he likes the sound of it. The way he snorts into his laughter is geeky and distinctly uncool. It humanizes him, in a way. Hawks’ smile is so big his cheeks start to get sore. He quickly resets his mouth into a cool, thin line. Careful now. He thinks to himself as he slides his hands down to grasp at Dabi’s firm ass appreciatively. Can’t catch feelings for a villain that you’ll eventually betray.

Hawks is no angel – the Hero Commission has certainly seen to that. But crashing out over Dabi – Dabi the damn top member of the League of Villains – that would be so incredibly morally wrong that Hawks can’t believe his horny brain even bubbled up the idea in the first place. Ok. Refocus. Sex now, guilt and morality check later.

He lets his hands explore the expanse of Dabi’s cheeks. Jeez, he loves Dabi’s ass. It’s firm with a tiny bit of bounce to it. He looks up appreciatively at the rest of Dabi’s body. He’s a bit taken aback and just how skinny the villain is. He knows that up until The League joined up with the Paranormal Liberation Front, Dabi, Shigaraki and the others didn’t have a reliable source for meals. From the intel Hawks had gathered at the PLF HQ, the League members often went hungry, not knowing where their next meals would come from.

Dabi’s physique tells a story of malnourishment. He’s far too slim for his height. His muscles are lean in a wiry sort of way. Even though he’s muscular and has these to-die-for thighs, it’s clear that he’s not in a healthy place. He’s not being cared for. And Hawks knows all about being malnourished and neglected – before the Commission got a hold of him, he recalls being shaky and hungry with weak muscles from malnourishment.

So as Hawks appreciates Dabi’s beautiful body, he can’t help the way that his heart aches for the villain. A tiny voice in his head says, “I could take care of you. I could take you to my favorite restaurants and show you what it’s like to have a full belly and a warm bed. I could feed you and kiss you and fuck you until you fall asleep all safe and happy and emo and we could live happily ever after like some goddamn gay version of Sandra Bullock and Keanu Reeves in The Lake House – kissing into the credit scenes.

Hawks blinks in surprise as the affectionate thoughts scroll through his head. All that just from cumming in Dabi’s mouth and then seeing him naked in a neon green roller rink bathroom!? Fuck. Has he been down bad for this emo motherfucker all along!?

Um. Okay wow that was a weirdly visceral pipedream thought. Hawks tries to lock in and clear his mind. There will be plenty of processing later when he’s taking a fresh shower and can be blessedly alone with his thoughts. For now – he has a blowjob to attend to.

He runs his hands slowly down Dabi’s thighs, memorizing the feel of Dabi’s warm skin beneath his fingertips. He looks up at the emo villain with bright golden eyes, and Dabi hits him back with a smoky gaze that could level buildings (probably has, to be honest. Dabi does have a police documented history of arson). His nose piercings glint in the artificial lighting as he turns his head ever so slightly so he can better look at Hawks. The hero runs his fingers lightly up the sensitive skin of Dabi’s inner thighs and the villain bites his lip and inhales sharply. His cock twitches. He’s so fucking horny.

Finally, Hawks puts him out of his misery and slides a hand up to grip Dabi’s cock and oh shit does it feel good in his palm. He runs his hand up and down the shaft, taking care to vary the pressure of his grip as he gets towards the tip. He swipes his thumb across Dabi’s sensitive head, smearing his precum around under his fingers so he can use it as lube. Dabi lets out a slight gasp at the motion, his arms falling to his sides as he continues to watch Hawks work at his thick cock.

Hawks looks down, staring hungrily at the hot member in his hand as he strokes slowly, carefully up and down. He decides to take it nice and slow – they both need this. A break. Softness. He jerks Dabi’s cock slowly, full of care. Almost as if to quietly say this is how it can be with me – sex can be slow. It can be gentle. Hawks wonders if Dabi has ever been handled with care in bed.

“What are you doing?” Dabi groans, looking down at him with a frown. “You’re literally the slowest bitch on the face of the Earth. Just get me off already.”

Hawks pauses and looks back up at the villain with narrowed eyes. “It’s all about the build up. Shut up and enjoy it.”

“I’d enjoy it more if I was cumming all over your face right now, jeez.” Dabi says defensively, but he crosses his arms and shuts the fuck up all the same. He’s looking down at Hawks almost curiously (as curiously as one can look while they’re brooding into a handjob). Hawks grins a little as he starts to jerk Dabi off again, this time going a tiny bit faster until he feels Dabi’s dick respond with an appreciative twitch.

He then leans forward and plants a row of wet kisses up Dabi’s inner thigh as he continues to glide his hand up and down Dabi’s perfect cock. He realizes that he could use a tiny bit more lubrication. He gathers saliva in his mouth and looks up at Dabi to maintain eye contact as he drools like an absolute whore onto the villain’s ready cock.

Dabi blinks in surprise at the explicit visual, and then stares hungrily at Hawks to see what he’ll do next. The winged hero uses his hand to glide his saliva across Dabi’s excited cock and increases his pace a bit – the villain closes his eyes at the contact, clearly seeing stars behind his eyelids as he lets out a tiny breath of pleasure. Good. That’s what Hawks wants.

He leans his mouth forward and starts to suck at Dabi’s balls, sucking one into his mouth as he continues along with the hand job. At this, Dabi lets out a full on groan from the back of his throat. Okay, so he’s a sensitive little bitch. Hawks can work with that.

He sucks for a few more moments on Dabi’s package, letting his jaw go slack so he can pull his mouth away to do more dirty work. He ghosts hot breath along the underside of Dabi’s cock before tonguing at his flushed tip. Dabi seems to think that Hawks is speeding things up like he asked, and he hums appreciatively when he feels Hawks’ wet mouth hover just above his cockhead.

But no – Hawks is just teasing. He goes back down to worshiping Dabi’s thighs with his mouth, lavishing them in kisses as he slows his stroke game on Dabi’s dick. Dabi lets out a growl of frustration, just wanting Hawks to get it quick and dirty and done with.

“Patience.” Hawks says as he finds a particularly sensitive spot on Dabi’s thigh and tongues at it, appreciating the way Dabi’s knees give a twitch at the motion. “Patience.” He places a kiss on the spot. “Is.” Another kiss. “A Virtue.” He swirls his tongue back up towards Dabi’s package.

“Oh fuck you.” Dabi hisses between clenched teeth, arms still crossed against his chest and eyes shut tight. He drops his head back to rest against the smooth neon green wall.

“You could be fucking me right now. If you carried a damn emergency condom.” Hawks teases, using his free hand to caress Dabi’s sensitive balls. They quiver at the delicate attention the hero serves up. Dabi is blessedly speechless for once. Hawks glances up to see that he’s really relishing this, despite his complaints. His eyes are still cramped shut but his eyebrows are knitting against each other and he’s biting his lip hard. He’s doing everything possible to not let Hawks see him enjoying himself.

Hawks slows down his pace even more. He can tell that he’s frustrating Dabi endlessly, and he loves it. Dabi’s mouth has settled into a scowl, but his chest rises and falls in a quick rhythm that hinting to Hawks that he’s getting flustered.

“Hey Dabi.” Hawks says, casual. “You’re allowed to enjoy yourself. We can go back to being whatever kind of fucked up enemies when we’re back on the clock. We can pretend this never happened.” He lolls his tongue around the head of Dabi’s cock, eliciting a shiver from the villain, before continuing to kiss up his hipbone. “Let yourself fucking relax a little.”

Dabi cracks open an eye to glare at Hawks, but he takes a deep breath in and releases it slowly before dropping his arms to his sides.

“Alright, birdie. Make me enjoy it.” He says, half daring, half resigned. Hawks grins into the skin of his slim belly before planting a kiss beside his navel.

“Just remember – you asked for this.” Hawks says cheekily, kissing down the light “V” shape of the svelte muscles at Dabi’s trim waist.

“Yeah, yeah. Just get on with - ” Dabi’s words get stuck in his throat as, in a sudden burst of movement, Hawks wrenches one of Dabi’s long legs off the ground and throws it over his shoulder. He flings an arm between Dabi’s legs to brace against the wall, allowing himself to bare most of the villain’s weight. In the same motion, he takes Dabi’s cock in his mouth and starts sucking like his life depends on it (And maybe it does to be honest).

Dabi was clearly not expecting this, because he lets out a moan of surprise that quickly turns into undiluted pleasure at the change in position. His dick fits so snuggly in Hawks’ hot mouth, and the thrill of being handled so harshly yet carefully is turning him on in a way that neither of them could have anticipated. He’s rock hard and ready to cum any moment.

Hawks hollows out his cheeks and bobs his head in a steady rhythm, enjoying the light salty taste of Dabi’s unblemished skin. He periodically swirls his tongue around the head of the villain’s cock, eliciting broken mumbles of praise from the hot villain.

“Y-yeah. Oh shit. Just like that.” Dabi stammers mindlessly, his fingers dropping from his chest to thread their way through Hawks’ thick hair. He pulls gently at the hero’s blonde locks, eliciting a hum of appreciation from Hawks. Mmm that’s hot. The hum sends tiny shockwaves of vibration through Dabi’s cock and he feels his legs start to shake with pleasure. Hawks feels it too. He knows the villain is getting close, and he’s excited to push him over the edge.

Dabi’s eyes flutter open so he can get a visual on the situation. He takes in the way his pale leg is thrown haphazardly over Hawks’ strong, tanned shoulder. Then there’s the way that Hawks is absolutely ravaging him – deep throating his cock in a way that’s both slutty and caring. Hawks is so tuned into Dabi’s pleasure; he’s contorted himself into an uncomfortable position. He’s simultaneously supporting most of Dabi’s weight while sucking him dry. It’s the first time Dabi’s had sex where a partner has focused entirely on his desire. He’s so fucking turned on that he’s shaking.

Hawks slides his mouth off of Dabi’s dick with a pop. He takes a few ragged breaths and then says in a hoarse tone. “I know you’re close. I want to make you cum. I want you to enjoy yourself. Fucking take it from me Dabi.” He takes Dabi’s cock back in his mouth and wrenches his leg upwards, further over the hard muscles of his Pro Hero shoulder.

Dabi’s head hits the neon green bathroom wall with a light “thud.” He’s speechless, blissed out, heaven struck. Hawks seems to know exactly what to say and do to turn him on. He’s always been one for dirty talk – but he’s never truly been on the receiving end of said talking. The way Hawks looks at him and sucks him off and speaks to him so damn directly…well it’s all far too much and he’s certain sex has now officially been ruined forever for him - its likely that only Hawks is capable of fucking him this good.

Hawks sucks rhythmically at Dabi’s dick and does all sorts of fancy things with his tongue that shoot zigzags of pleasure into the villain’s belly. It only takes about 45 seconds of this for him to absolutely shatter. He doesn’t even see the orgasm coming – all of a sudden without warning it hits him like a train. It’s hard, fast and breathtaking. His entire body is a livewire of shaking energy as he feels himself cum, hot waves of sticky fluid splattering the back of the hero’s throat in rapid succession.

Dabi cries out – a mix of surprise and pleasure. The noise that’s ripped from the back of his throat sounds suspiciously like Hawks’ name, but the villain would never own up to that fact. (Besides, what’s said during sex doesn’t really mean anything, right? Right.) If Hawks weren’t holding him up, his knees would be buckling right now because holy fucking shit he feels so deliriously good as Hawks draws the orgasm out of him and swallows cleanly.

And for his part, Hawks is in heaven down beneath the villain, sucking the remnants of Dabi’s high through chapped lips. He absolutely loves giving during sex. Something about the way he can make someone fall apart with only his touch, his mouth, his cock…he supposes it’s a trauma response, wanting to pleasure people for attention and potentially because he wants to feel a bit of control. In his lifetime, he’s had so little control. It’s nice to have a moment of being truly in charge.

But honestly…he sees Dabi as a mirror to himself; someone who’s been neglected and unloved. And for a moment it feels good to give Dabi the things he himself wants. So when Dabi throws his head back and moans out his name in a choked voice, the hero feels incredibly accomplished and – selfishly – fulfilled knowing he’s done his job well.

When Dabi’s cock is spent and limp between Hawks’ lips, he gently slides his mouth off. A thin thread of spit and cum connects his lips to Dabi’s pretty cock as he backs away. It’s sloppy and gross and he can feel Dabi drinking in the hot visual from above. He carefully removes Dabi’s lengthy leg from where it hangs over his shoulder, lowering it back to the ground. He tries to ignore the way that Dabi’s entire body is still quaking.

He decides he can get away with one more kindness before Dabi comes back into his body. He reaches for Dabi’s charcoal boxers where they lay abandoned on the floor, and he holds them out to the villain, helping him pull one shaky leg into the underwear at a time. Dabi doesn’t put up a fight, awkwardly allowing Hawks to help him get back into the comfortable fabric. When the boxers are finally back in place with their elastic waistband low on Dabi’s defined hips, the villain slides down the wall so he can sit on the smooth linoleum floor across from Hawks. He closes his eyes as he leans his head back against the wall and takes a few deep, slow breaths.

Finally, he says two shaky words: “Holy. Shit.”

Hawks laughs genuinely because honestly, he’s thinking the same thing.

“Is sex for you usually that good?” Hawks questions, his tone completely serious as he cocks his head to the side.

Dabi leans his head back on the wall and stares up at the florescent lights. “Never.” He shifts his gaze to take in Hawks’ expression. “You?”

“Nope. I actually don’t usually cum that easily.”

“Bullshit.”

“I’m being serious.”

“Huh.”

They sit in silence for a few moments, neither sure of what to say next.

“I guess…we should get going.” Dabi says, not quite certain of himself. He reaches for his discarded clothes and gets to his feet so he can put them back on. Hawks watches, sad to see that beautiful body be swallowed up by loose black fabric.

“Yeah.” Hawks looks around for his own clothes, and then remembers that all he has available to put on are his tiny see through tank top and the bright ruby roller skates. He groans miserably, walking with resignation towards the teensy top that lays in a sad little heap under the sink. He makes a small noise of dismay – the sink pipe has been dripping water onto the already atrocious shirt. Dabi looks up at the sound.

“Oh. Hold on.” He says quickly. He ducks his head down so the hero can’t see his expression. Hawks notes that he looks almost embarrassed.

Dabi strides away from him on long legs and disappears into one of the bathrooms stalls, kicking out a familiar looking designer duffle bag.

“…is that?” Hawks sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache coming on.

“Yeah I stole your fucking clothes, big deal.” Dabi shrugs, kicking the extremely high-end duffle across the linoleum floor towards Hawks. “I wanted to see you squirm for a bit when you realized you had to stay in that slutty little outfit.”

“Ugh. Why are you literally the worst. This day has been just awful.” Hawks grabs for the bag, pulling it towards him across the gross linoleum floor.

“I hope it wasn’t all awful.” Dabi says, almost jokingly. He strolls over to the sink so he can adjust his turtleneck collar in the mirror.

Hawks ignores the comment. “I can say with confidence that I will never be wearing roller skates again after today.”

“I dunno. After blowing you on wheels…maybe I have a weird shitty kink for skates now. You’d need to put them on again so I can be sure.” Dabi says, watching Hawks riffle through his bag behind him through the mirror. He runs long fingers through his jet-black locks, refocusing his eyes on himself as he tries to flatten his sex hair.

“Cumming makes you chatty, does it?” Hawks bites back, grinning despite himself. He’s thrilled to see all of his clothes and equipment in the bag where he left them. He makes a mental note to sweep the bag for tracking equipment later before he arrives back home.  He does an initial check – patting his hands along the bottom of the bag and around the zippers.

“Don’t think this changes anything between us.” Dabi says suddenly, almost harshly, as he turns the sink faucet and begins to splash cold water on his pale, aristocratic cheeks.

“How do you mean?” Hawks turns to look at him over his shoulder.

“I know how you hero types work. You probably think now that we’ve fucked we’re in love and you can change me and bring me over to the side of the light.” Dabi chuckles and crosses his arms across his chest. “That is definitely not happening.”

“You are so damn full of yourself.” Hawks snorts, turning back to the bag so he can pull out his precious designer sweatpants. He unfolds the soft, decadent material carefully and rises to his feet so he can pull them on. He discards the slutty photo shoot shorts, tossing them over Dabi’s shoulder and into the garbage can by the sink. He stands naked for a moment, grinning when he sees Dabi’s eyes dance across his body from their reflection in the mirror. He sticks a foot into the pant leg and starts to pull them on. “You’re well beyond saving.”

Dabi grins appreciatively at him through the mirror. “Don’t I know it.”

“And I promise not to fall in love with your sorry ass.” Hawks pulls on his soft expensive t-shirt. He doesn’t miss the way that Dabi’s eyes drink in one last glance at his abs and chest as he pulls the fabric down over his stomach. “But maybe…”

“Hm?”

Hawks feels his cheeks burn red with heat as he adjusts his shirt to fit more comfortably around his wings.

“Maybe we can call a temporary truce whenever we want to…hook up.” He coughs out the last words.

“Bold of you to assume I’d sleep with you again.” Dabi sneers, but his mouth is tilted up in the tiniest of grins.

“I’m sorry…” Hawks says boldly as he fishes his specialty headphones out of the duffle and hangs them around his neck. “…Did I not just give you the best head of your life? I assumed you’d want a follow up. Or better yet…” Hawks grabs his socks and sneakers and starts pulling them on as he avoids Dabi’s gaze. “I bet you’d jump at the chance to feel my cock inside you.”

“And just what makes you think I’d let you top me?” Dabi spits out, sounding insulted.

Hawks shrugs indifferently. “I’ll bottom. I don’t particularly care when it comes to things like that. Either way, I’m a great lay. Ha! That rhymed.” Hawks says, finally fully clothed. Admittedly, the orgasm was a good full system reset. He feels loose and relaxed for the first time all day. He rolls out his shoulders and stretches, letting his shirt creep up his toned stomach to give Dabi once last thing to look at.

“I bet we’d have really good bed chem.” Hawks says with a cheeky wink, catching Dabi’s bright aqua eyes.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Dabi narrows his eyes in a glare, thinking Hawks is making fun of him somehow.

“Its, uh, a song by Sabrina Carpenter.” Hawks rattles off. He didn’t realize that Dabi was so out of touch with pop culture, but given that the villain has been on the run for the better part of the last few years it kind of makes sense that he wouldn’t be up to date on the latest in pop music. “It means we’d have good chemistry in bed.”

“I have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about. Jesus Christ you’re annoying.” Dabi rolls his eyes and grabs a paper towel to wipe off his damp face and arms.

“Listen, ya big baby. What I’m saying is that I’d be up for sleeping together again. Don’t think too much into it.” Hawks rolls his eyes and pulls his hoodie out of his bag before zipping the duffle closed.

“Huh. Alright. Maybe.” Dabi says noncommittally. “I’ll be at PLF HQ next week. If I see you there…well we can figure it out then.”  Without even a backward glance at the now fully clothed Hawks, he turns to unlock the door and leave.

“Dabi – hold on.” Hawks grabs him by the wrist and yanks him backwards and away from the door.

“What.” Dabi looks pissed for some reason, but he turns around just in time for Hawks to plant a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss on his lips. It’s quick and kind of gross, but it’s also warm.

“That’s it. See you on the flip side, villain.” Hawks turns on his heel and goes to gather up his bag and the ridiculous ruby red roller skates. Dabi can’t help but stare at the hero’s plump ass as he bends over to collect the skates. He quickly gets ahold of himself and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. He slowly opens the bathroom door and disappears into the crowded roller rink set.

Hawks takes a minute to gather his things and ­finally splash some cold water on his face. His body is buzzing and electric, but in a nice way this time. He’s wearing shoes without wheels. He’s got his plush, comfy clothes on. His headphones are in place should he need them. …And then there’s the fact that he just had the hottest sex of his life with a fucking villain in a neon green roller rink rest room.

After a few minutes of preening at his hair and outfit, he emerges from the bathroom and out into the chaos of the post-photo shoot set. Less time has passed than he realized – the crew is still cleaning up, many of them taking a snack break at the craft services table.

The art director’s assistant waves to him as he exits the small bathroom.

“Hey, I’ve been looking for you everywhere! The costuming department doesn’t have your stuff so we’re going to lend – oh! You found your clothes.” She looks relieved. The PA Hawks had sent off earlier in search of his duffle is nowhere to be seen.

“Yeah, I guess I just misplaced it in the bathroom while getting ready! Silly me!” Hawks plays off, turning up his beloved hero charm. “But I wasn’t sure where to put these.” He holds up the pair of shiny red skates with one hand. “Can you get them back to wardrobe for me?”

“Oh! The art director said you can keep them – they’re a gift.” The assistant says, smiling warmly.

“Oh, thanks.” Hawks glances down at the skates unhappily.

“We’re done for the day – you’re good to leave! But we’d love for you to stay for the crew after party.” The woman looks up at him through her lashes, blushing as she implores him to stay.

“Aw, thanks I’d really love to – but I’ve got an early morning patrol.” Hawks says apologetically, covering his mouth a bit with his hand as he lies through his teeth. “Thanks for everything, though. Really. Excited to see the final photos!” And with that he turns on his heel and boogies his way out of the roller rink. He waves gratefully to the models and crewmembers as he speed walks towards the exit. As he goes, he unzips his bag and tosses the offensive skates inside.

The minute his feet hit the pavement outside, he propels himself high into the air. His wings unfurl and relief flows through him as he takes in the feeling of being free in the wide, endless sky. He breathes in deeply, reveling in the expansive silence. He wings his way towards home, his mind lingering on thoughts of Dabi – his hands, his body, and his mouth.

He ditches his designer bag in a trashcan a few blocks away from his apartment (yes, Dabi did in fact have it bugged with a tiny tracker). He enters his loft apartment carrying nothing but his keys the bright red skates. He discards both in the entryway, tucking in his wings and shedding his clothes as he makes a beeline for his luxurious shower.

Minutes later he’s finally, blissfully, standing beneath a hot stream of water. He closes his eyes and sighs gratefully as he lathers his wings up with expensive oil, and his thoughts wander back to Dabi.

Where is Dabi sleeping tonight? Is it warm enough? Is he taking a nice, long shower after the days events? Has he been fed? Does he have a soft bed and change of clothes waiting for him at the Paranormal Liberation Front’s headquarters?

These thoughts linger with him as he towels off, chomps away at a TV dinner, and eventually tucks himself into bed. He sprawls out across the king sized mattress, his wings splayed out comfortably behind him as he stares up at the ceiling. For the first time he notices how empty the bed feels with just him in it. Alone with his thoughts, he dares to let his mind wander. He wonders if Dabi would like sharing a bed? Would he find it comfortable to be folded up into the warm plush blankets, maybe with one of Hawks’ wings draped over him like a quilt? Would he pretend to hate the closeness, but allow himself to be cuddled anyway? Would he let Hawks kiss him slow and deep until they fell asleep?

He shuts off his light and stares up into the darkness, wondering. Maybe even wishing a little.

“I bet we’d have good bed chem.” He mutters to himself, a small smile pulling at his lips as his brain supplies Dabi’s likely response – an eye roll accompanied with a gravely “You’re an idiot.”

Yeah, he really is, isn’t he?

Hawks folds away his dreaming, aching heart and wills himself to go to sleep. There’s work to be done with the Commission. Plans to be carried out. In a world on the brink of quirk-fueled civil war, there’s no room for romance with a villain. And so, there’s no room for Dabi.

His eyes flutter shut and his breathing evens out. He falls into a deep, comfortable sleep. But his dreams are permeated with flashes of a patchwork face, bright aqua eyes, a brilliant toothy smile, and an arrogant laugh.

You can’t help the things your heart longs for.

End.

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OMG!!! Let me know what you think! I've been wanting to write a full DabiHawks fic forever! I hope you all enjoyed!

XOXO,

RedRiotUnbreakableHeart ❤️

P.S. Want to read more of my smutty fluffy fics!? Here's the link to 🔥My Masterlist.🔥

Stay safe out there, y'all!

[fairiily]

unspoken desire

description: you and wade had been teasing each other for far too long, so you decided to do something about it.

pairing: deadpool x you

contains: teasing, tension, no smut but almost

word count: ~1.2k

an: this is my first time ever posting my writing so pls be nice

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It was obvious.

Everyone in the X-Mansion knew Deadpool was into you, even if he refused to admit it. The one time he didn’t blurt out what he felt the moment he felt it. Painstakingly annoying, considering Wade says every thought that crosses his mind.

After too many torturous hangouts filled with endless teasing that neither of you acted on, you decided to do something about it. Something he couldn’t resist.

You and Wade always messed around with each other��not like that, although every part of you wished it was. Whether it was play-fighting, bickering like siblings, or making the most ridiculous jokes, nothing was ever serious between you two. But every time Wade joked about kissing you, teasing you, or even sometimes fucking you, a part of you felt like he wasn’t joking. You had put up with his antics long enough, and you were determined to put an end to it since Wade didn’t have the balls to.

Surprising to everyone, even Deadpool himself, Colossus had convinced Wade to join the X-Men. As always, he was hesitant at first but eventually caved to make Colossus happy. However, his decision wasn’t made entirely with pure intentions. You were the newest member of the X-Men, having taken off your yellow “trainee” top and chucked it in the trash a few days ago. Wade was caught off guard when he saw you, as you hadn’t joined the X-Men on their recent missions involving him. But you may have influenced Wade’s decision. He couldn’t keep his eyes off you.

You had always felt his gaze, but pining was only fun for so long. After a long day of missions, you and the X-Men returned to the mansion. Everyone was getting ready for bed, settling into their nightly routines. Your bedroom had a connected bathroom, but you wanted to have some fun tonight. You searched your closet for the tiniest shorts you owned and slipped them on, purposely wearing nothing underneath. Next came your tank top—low-cut and accentuating in all the right places. You then stepped out of your room, butterflies in your stomach from the excitement.

You peeked around the corner to make sure Wade’s door was open, then made your way down the hall. When you reached Wade’s room, you swung around the door frame with your hand, stretching your body away from it.

“Hey, Wade.”

Wade spun around, his eyes going wide as he took in your outfit. For a moment, he looked like he’d been hit with a bus but shortly regained his composure.

“Whoa, Y/N! Is this a new superhero costume? Because it’s totally working for you.” He grinned. “Did you just step out of a fashion magazine or are you trying to distract me?”

You raised an eyebrow, smirking at his over-the-top reaction. “Just wanted to let you know, today was pretty insane.”

Wade wiggled his eyebrows, still struggling to keep his eyes off you. “Oh yeah, the way that guy’s head spun? Classic. I think he may need an exorcist after that—if he survives the migraine.”

“Yeah, it was wild,” you replied, your tone playful. “But hey, I’m about to crash. Got a big day tomorrow.”

Wade dramatically pouted, placing a hand over his heart. “Aww, come on! Don’t leave me hanging. I need someone to save me from my own bad jokes. Plus, I was just getting started with the witty banter!”

"Goodnight, Wade." you said, looking into his eyes.

You walked across the hallway into the bathroom, but deliberately left the door open. Wade made a mental note, realizing you had your own bathroom and had chosen to come to his.

With your hands on the edges of the sink, you leaned over into the mirror, making an effort to arch your back in the process. Wade realized what you were doing, and he couldn’t tear his eyes away from you. The way your clothes hugged your curves—he thought you looked so good, so effortlessly. He shifted on the edge of his bed, and you noticed he was still staring. It was working. But you wanted to see what he was going to do about it, now that you’d made it obvious. You wanted to see how long you could tease him before he gave in.

After his sweatpants grew tighter, he decided he couldn’t take it anymore. You’d won.

You then felt two rough hands on your back before you even realized he had gotten up. His grip was firm but hesitant, like he was testing the waters, making sure this was what you wanted. You caught his reflection in the mirror, his eyes dark with desire but still holding that flicker of uncertainty. For a split second, you felt a rush of power surge through you—this was your game now, and he was playing by your rules.

“Wade,” you murmured, your voice low and inviting as you leaned into his touch, arching your back a little more. “You finally going to stop pretending?”

He let out a low chuckle, the sound vibrating against your skin as his hands slowly slid up your sides, grazing the hem of your tank top. “Y’know, I usually just go straight for it, but something about you makes me wanna savor the moment. What happened to goodnight?”

You could feel his breath on your neck as he spoke, sending shivers down your spine. His hands moved with deliberate slowness, teasing you just as much as you’d teased him.

“I changed my mind. And if you don’t hurry up, I might just have to take matters into my own hands,” you teased, your tone laced with both challenge and promise.

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it,” he whispered, his lips brushing against the skin behind your ear. “But first… how about we see just how much of that outfit you’re really wearing for me?”

His fingers dipped beneath the fabric of your tank top, grazing the bare skin underneath, and you couldn’t help the small gasp that escaped your lips. Wade smirked at your reaction, his confidence growing with every little sound you made.

“You’ve been driving me crazy, Y/N,” he admitted, his voice quieter now, unusually serious. “All this time, and you have no idea how much I’ve wanted this. Wanted you.”

His hands roamed lower, finding the waistband of your shorts, his fingers slipping under just enough to make your pulse quicken. You felt him pause, as if waiting for some final sign from you.

You turned your head slightly, meeting his gaze in the mirror. “Then take what you want, Wade. I’m right here.”

That was all the permission he needed.

In one swift motion, he spun you around to face him, his hands firmly on your hips as he backed you against the sink. His eyes were locked onto yours, hunger flashed within them.

Before you could say anything, his lips crashed against yours, the kiss hungry and desperate, like he’d been holding back for far too long. You kissed him back just as fiercely, your hands finding their way into his hair, pulling him closer.

Wade’s hands began to explore your body, his touch rough and impatient as if he was trying to memorize every inch of you. Your bodies pressed together, and you could feel the heat radiating between you, the tension that had been building for so long finally snapping.

As his hands continued to explore, and your kisses grew more heated, you knew that this was just getting started. There was no more pretending, no more teasing. you got him exactly where you wanted. you swiftly sat up from the edge of the counter, taking him to your room.

the door behind you slammed. you didnt realize how much you needed him, and the way he was touching you said he felt the same.

"im so glad i have you all to myself." wade murmured, desire spilling out of his voice.

and in that moment, you wondered if all of his skin was textured.

it was a long night.

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anyways thats it thank u for reading! i didnt write the smut part sorry to disappoint but i literally dont know how to LOL!

[alisa-nyx]

A Stitch in Time

Suzuya Juuzou x Reader

Content/Warnings: sfw, fem!reader, fluff, meet-cute, embroidery, slight blood mention.

Words: 1k

Synopsis: When the café is empty you can't help but work on one of you embroidery projects. What you don't expect is for a random, and rather cute, customer to appear and take interest in your embroidery.

A/N: Suzuya is one of my favourite characters in Tokyo Ghoul and the fact that there aren't many fics for him is breaking my heart. Also I don't know how alive the fandom is (since I'm new to it) but here we go!

The café is utterly empty except for you. Soft instrumental music playing in the background as you stay behind the counter, just in case of a customer appearing. Not like you are paying much attention to your surroundings as you are working on one of your embroidery projects, improving a simple black tank top you got some time ago. Making it more… you. And embroidery was your thing. You started a few years ago after seeing some videos online and got absolutely fascinated with it. The way you can make beautiful art with just a needle and thread, it's… It's just beautiful. Of course the first tries and the little practice projects you've done always ended with bloody fingers at how many times you pricked them with the needle. But every time you got better at it. And now you're not even stabbing your fingers anymore. Getting more confident in your work-craft that even the apron you are wearing at the moment has flowers embroidered on it.

That being said, you are so focused on your work that you don't even notice when the café's door opens, the needle in your hand being the only thing you can see, the music the only thing you hear.

"Hello?" startled you look up at the person and prick your finger as you were mid-stitch. 

"Ouch!" you whine before putting the project aside, remembering you are at work and have to do your actual job. "Ah, sorry! What can I get for you?" you ask, smiling at the dark-haired boy who only looks at you curiously. You can't help but notice the little red… tattoos…? Under his eye and lip. There's no way that's thread, no? 

"Are you okay? That looks like it hurt," he asks, looking at your hurt finger where a bead of blood already started forming. You only shrug, continuing to smile as you answer him.

"I'm fine, it's just a little prick anyway," getting a napkin you fastly wrap it around your index finger to hide it away. "So… What can I get for you today?" you repeated but the boy seemed more interested in what you were working on before, actually leaning over the counter to look at your half-embroidered tank top then he looked up at you again, more so at your apron.

"Hey, are you the one who did the flowers on your apron?" he suddenly asks, shifting to face you, his big red eyes full of curiosity and wonder. A little too close for your liking and making you flush just the tiniest bit.

"Yea—Yeah. Why?" 

"I like them! Your stitches are very precise. You must have a lot of practice." he states smiling, and that somewhat takes you off guard. In the six months you worked at this café no one has ever complimented your work. Or even noticed that you are the only waitress with a different apron.

"Oh, thank you," you genuinely thank him, deciding there's no harm in entertaining him for a while. You two are the only ones here anyway. "Do you like embroidery?" the boy's smile widens, the gesture pulling at the red lines under his lip that you are starting to think are actual pieces of thread stitched into his skin.

"Yes, something like that! I love sewing and stitching! See!" he excitedly says lifting his right arm to show you the stitches on it. And only then do you also finally notice 'x's on his neck. You freeze, slightly off put by the display, and shiver at the thought of needle puncturing skin. How can you do that to yourself? Is the first question going through your mind. Then: do they hurt? Of course, they hurt idiot… But are they still hurting after healing? Are they like tattoos or piercings? Paining you when they are done but after healing you don't even know they are there? The boy's smile slowly fades away at your stupefied gaze. 

"You're—"

"Do they hurt?" you blurt out before he can continue, your eyes roaming over the red thread on his arm.

"Not really," he states. "Tho I'm kinda insensitive to pain." 

You nod, slowly processing what he just said. "You sure do love stitching." just like you love embroidery. You can somewhat understand him, though you could never do that to yourself.

"Mhm. Just like you do embroidery." he hums approvingly, seeing how your face shifts from concerned to gentle. And just like that his smile returns. "What were you working on?" and his curiosity too. You couldn't help the little chuckle that escaped you.

"Just adding my touch to a tank top," you say glancing at the tambour hoop holding the fabric in place. "Do you wanna see?" 

His eyes practically sparkle at your question, an immediate "yes!" following. 

You laugh again, revealing the half-finished piece of a white snake coiled around a golden crescent moon, little stars sprinkled around.

"Wow!" the boy exclaims, leaning closer to take in every detail. "It's beautiful! The details are amazing. How do you get the stitches so precise?" you slightly flush at the compliment, smiling wider as his enthusiasm rubs on you.

"With lots of practice and patience," you answer while he still analyzes your work.

"I'd love to learn how to do that!" and you find yourself laughing once again. 

"I could teach you if you want." you offer in the heat of the moment, deciding that you like the boy and wouldn't mind spending more time with him.

"Really!?" the sparkles returned to his eyes that are now solemnly focused on you. "I'd love that! When can we start?" 

"Whenever you want. We could do it here after I finish my shift or on breaks. This week I'm on the early one and next week on the afternoon shift," you say and he nods excitedly.

"It's a deal!" he says thrusting his hand forward and you shake it while chuckling, putting the embroidery away.

"Deal," you confirm smiling. "By the way, I'm Y/N Y/L," you say totally aware of the nameplate on your chest but you still want to present yourself appropriately.

"Juuzou Suzuya!" he says, pulling his arm back.

"Nice to meet you, Suzuya!" you say, still smiling.

"Likewise Y/N!"

[eringobragh420]

➔ Pairing — Gunther ♡ f!Reader ➔ Summary — Gunther and his longtime friend finally make their fantasies a reality. ➔ Word Count — 3.2k ➔ Warnings — NSFW. Wall sex, semi-public, dirty talk, fingering, super minor blood, cum 18+ ➔ Notes — Dedicated to the Gunther lovers, especially the ones who go into this not liking him and come out wondering wtf they were thinking 🤷‍♀️ ➔ Taglist — If you’d like to be added, please click here! ➔ Requested By — @eboni-napalm Thank you so much for your patience and your awesome idea! Happy Birthday! ➔ Support — Buy me a coffee! ☕ ➔ MASTERLIST

She watched on one of many TVs backstage as Damian Priest defended his title against Gunther. Some days she couldn’t believe she and Gunther were in WWE at all, on the main roster no less, but then she saw him in the ring, and she saw exactly what everybody else saw: a superstar. Of course, she’d known how special he was for years beforehand, having come up with him in NXT UK, so it was really no surprise to see him in a match competing for the World Heavyweight Championship. And her idolization had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that she may or may not have had a crush on the man since the very first moment she’d laid eyes on him. It didn’t. Really.

The two gigantic men in the ring, each going pound for pound, exchanged chops, and she couldn’t avoid even the tiniest reaction every time Gunther was on the receiving end. These men, at least some of them, had to be masochists. She was a wrestler, yes, and there was hardly ever a contest that was pain-free, but she never went into it wanting to be hurt. When these men were chopped or suplexed or Pedigree’d, she swore she saw their eyes dazzle, some of them even smiled or laughed. And was she really thinking about whether or not Gunther was a fan of pain while standing amongst dozens of other people watching the same match?

She gasped along with everyone else when Priest rolled Gunther onto his back—I could just ride him right there … I bet he’d forget about losing—and laid over him for the pin. A collective hush fell over the group, however, upon witnessing Finn Bálor’s betrayal, which consequently kept Gunther in the match. Her body was absolutely thrumming during the next sequence, watching with rounded eyes as Priest tried twice to get at Finn before Gunther locked in the chokehold. She was the loudest one cheering when the Ring General was declared the winner, and the new World Heavyweight Champion. Smirking, she shook her head as Gunther snatched the golden title from the ref and held it in the air, and she could tell he was emotional, but he did well hiding it, playing the perfect heel to the perfect end to a kind of perfect night—at least for her, she hadn’t much interest in the Cody versus Solo match. 

She started to say goodbye to those around her, hugging a few, intricate handshakes with others, well wishes to everyone. She gathered her purse and suitcase-on-wheels, turned, and made it only a few steps before pausing. Gunther was exiting Gorilla position, blue Ring General jacket on—he really needs to wear the blue more often—gilded title adorning his waist, and he was headed right for her. How the hell long had it taken her to say goodbye? She looked behind her to see who he might actually be targeting, but everyone had dispersed. When she turned back around, Gunther was only a few feet from her, his eyes rising and falling over her thin tank top, pleated skirt, and Nike sneakers, and her brain was inundated with every memory she had of the Austrian, like she was dying and her entire life was flashing before her eyes. The crush she may or may not have had blossomed within her, growing somehow from the deep, dark, secret place she’d buried it long ago. Entombing these inappropriate and, she assumed, unrequited, feelings for a coworker had allowed her to function like a normal human, and not a lovesick schoolgirl.

“What do you think?” he asked, or shouted, slapping the title against his abs, and she almost, almost, averted her gaze to look, but she caught herself at the very last second. She focused on the blood spatter on his cheek and jaw.

Blood?

There was a sizzling in the ether, a hum almost, like the sound of current zooming through a power line, and she felt it in her very core. She could smell him now, the closer he came, and his scent had to be pheromonal, because her panties were suddenly soaked and her legs felt heavy. Her arms and hands were numb, so it was quite confusing for her to watch her arm rise of its own volition, hand reaching for Gunther, and she screamed for him to move or slap her hand away, but no sound came out and her lips never moved. Her hand kept lifting until it came in contact with a spot of blood on his chiseled jawline, and now she had sensation in her fingertips, but still no control.

“Are you okay?” she asked, absolutely no recollection of planning to say anything at all.

“You’re worried about me,” he said loudly, grinning, boasting his sexy accent. Those goddamn dimples sank into his cheeks, and his smile, even when he was being evil on the microphone, was genuine and happy, and wait just a damn minute …

Her lips pursed. “Congratulations,” she deadpanned, finally in control of her hand, which she pulled from his face. She glanced at the vermillion liquid on her thumb before idly smearing it on her light-colored tank top, treating it like any other unwanted substance. She looked back up at him, his usually bright, sparkling eyes now a blazing inferno and zeroed in on the stain on her shirt just below her breasts. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

She spun on her heels, twirled her suitcase on its wheels, and she started off in the opposite direction. He might have been just teasing, and that was the most likely scenario, but that didn’t make her feel any less embarrassed. She’d shown genuine concern for him, and he’d cracked a joke about her being worried? It didn’t matter that he was correct—he didn’t have to be a dick about it. 

Unfortunately for her, she had no idea where the exit was in this direction, and she couldn’t very well ask someone while on her angry walk-away, so she stuck her chin in the air and continued on, confidently taking a turn down the next hallway. Her pace slowed then. This concourse was dark save for the light from the corridor that T’d at the end. And she didn’t see an exit sign. 

“Shit,” she whispered. 

A barely audible thud sounded behind her, and she spun around, releasing the handle of her suitcase, instantly hoping for an employee or maybe someone who was also lost. He was mostly a silhouette, but she knew exactly who it was—she was familiar with his size and the haircut and even his squared shoulders under the Ring General jacket—but for a new reason. His scent. It was the sour aroma of sweat, the copper tinge of blood, and tiny remnants of whatever body wash he’d used recently. She inhaled as much as she could, inflating her lungs until they nearly burst, packing them full of her new favorite flavor, and she felt a little dizzy. The man was a goddamn vape pen.

She attempted to recover, “I think I made a wrong—” 

Gunther wrapped a long, strong arm around her middle and lifted her in the air with maybe a little too much vigor—she saw the top of his head for the first time in real life before gravity snatched her and yanked her back to earth. Gunther’s arm tightened around her, halting her progress, crushing their chests together, and she intuitively wrapped her legs around his waist. She felt the outline of the World Heavyweight Championship title belt between her legs and underneath the surprisingly soft fabric of the blue jacket. She clutched at the lapels to steady herself upon landing back in his arm—because it had been so fucking easy for him to nearly launch her into space and catch her with only one damn arm.

Their eyes met, and their noses were brushing, and they were passing oxygen back and forth between them. She’d never been this close to him before, not like this, and his scent was much stronger now. Fuck, she’d waited so long for this, but here? Now? His body was firm, muscles dense, and for some reason, this Austrian Adonis was wholly enchanted by her. So yes—here. Now.

“Gunther—” she whispered, having no idea where this sentence would end up.

“You didn’t answer me,” he cut her off. She blinked at him. “I asked you what you think.” Sometimes his THs came out as Fs and it was the most endearing quirk in the world. He nodded at the title, nestled in the comforting embrace of his jacket and her thighs, and they both cast their eyes downward. She swallowed, looking at her skirt, remembered she was wearing a skirt, and also the opulent title that was only a few inches from an aching, soaking pussy.

“I’m happy for you,” she whispered, hands still fisted in his jacket.

“No,” he growled, kicking her suitcase out of his way with a blue boot. Her grip tightened and her thighs clenched as he pressed her against the nearest wall, his free hand cupping the back of her head as a shield. “I’m only gonna ask you … one more time,” he said, his eyes burning a hole through her very soul, and his hand came out from behind her to hold his finger up. “You think I don’t see the way you look at me?” he tilted his head. She gulped down absolutely nothing, and the hallway was so quiet that the action was actually audible. “So no lying,” he advised, eyebrows lifting. His face closed the space between them, and she couldn’t regulate her breathing as it came out in hot puffs of desperation. “What … do you think?”

Boy, was she done thinking. “Well …” she trailed off, fingers releasing the lapels of his jacket so she could flatten her palms on his chest. She licked her lips, massaging the hard planes of his pecs, and she pulled her bottom lip into her mouth. His eyes darted down to watch. “I think you look like a fucking champion,” she murmured. If he wanted to play a game … let’s play a game. Her thighs tightened as she locked her ankles behind him, spine straightening. Her hand slithered up his neck to his incredible jaw where she gently clutched his chin between her forefinger and thumb so she could turn his face slightly away from her, freeing the route to his ear. Smirking, she pressed her lips to his lobe, and his arm still around her middle tensed. “And I think you look like a champion I’d like to fuck,” she purred, punctuating her statement by biting the lobe and sucking it into her searing mouth.

Gunther leaned back, stealing his ear from her, and he then pressed their foreheads together. “Yeah?” he taunted. She nodded, their noses grazing. “You wanna fuck the champion?”

“For so long,” she sighed, practically clawing at the jacket. She glanced down, their faces mashed together, a memory slapping her in the brain. She opened the garment and raked her nails down his bare chest, over the marks of Damian’s chops, and it wasn’t the hardest she could go, but his groan was primal, and she knew the pressure was just right. “You should know,” she went on, “if you’ve been watching me like you say you have.”

“Oh, I’ve been watching,” Gunther assured her. His hands were under her arms and he pressed her into the wall, locking eyes with her before he released his grip on her. She kept her shoulder blades and arms flat against the wall, back straight, legs nice and tight around Gunther’s waist, and she was perfectly stable without his assistance. He leaned back, and this new position presented him with the chance to leer at her, gaze inspecting every inch of her, and he leisurely began to lift her shirt. His brows rose and his mouth opened when he came to a barely-there built-in bra. “Look at you,” he said. “You don’t even bother, do you?” 

She regarded him with a wicked smirk, half his face a shadow, and she couldn’t fight the urge to roll her hips against him. The title didn’t feel particularly good when pressed to her pussy, but the thought of humping it, covering it with her juices, was something she never thought would turn her on. “Maybe I hoped you would be looking,” she whispered. He slid the bra, which was basically just thin fabric and elastic, torturously slowly up over her breasts where it stayed, and his eyes met hers once more.

“This is what you want?” he asked, though it sounded more like a statement. She nodded, lost in his murky eyes. “Say it,” he commanded, and there was no mistaking that tone.

She gripped his shoulders and pulled herself against him, her newly exposed nipples making contact with his jacket and his smooth chest. “I want you to fuck me, Gunther,” she told him, lips massaging his thin ones. Her eyes passed back and forth between his, and she knew he needed something else, just a little bit more. “Think you can handle that?”

He smashed her between himself and the wall, his lips finally covering hers, and the desperate moans from both their throats would have been embarrassing for them had anyone else heard them. Her hand on the back of his shaved head was an interesting level of eroticism, and he must have agreed, if his tongue in her mouth was any indication. She felt him unstrap the belt, and he returned one arm around her so he could lift her off the front of it, then he dropped it to the floor. Never once did his lips leave hers or even stop moving.

He repositioned her lower on his body this time, throwing his jacket around her legs, and she gasped, grip sliding from his shoulders back to the lapels as he ground his impressive manhood on her soaking panties. His hand slithered along her thigh, finger dipping under the side of the garment, which he then lifted away from her throbbing pussy. Her eyes were slits as his thumb slid along her dripping folds, relentlessly teasing her before it finally sank within and began massaging the slippery nub. His straining cock was still pressed against her, and if he didn’t fuck her now, she knew for sure they’d be caught. People were still passing by the end of the hallway they’d come from. Had anyone seen them enter? Had anyone seen them not leave?

“Please,” she whispered, not sure how long she would survive without his cock inside her.

“That’s what I wanna hear,” he mumbled, sucking one of her nipples into his mouth. Her back arched and she slammed her hips into his thumb. “You wanna fuck the champion, you have to beg the champion.”

“Please,” she repeated, and somewhere along the way she’d lost the upper hand. Or … had she ever really had it?

“Please what?” he pressed. “Hmm?” He was on her neck now, all teeth and tongue and lips, and her eyes rolled back. 

“Please fuck me,” she begged, hand cradling his neck. “Please?”

“Fuck,” Gunther whispered. 

There was brief movement, and suddenly, the thick head of his dick poked at her hole, and she cried out. Gunther was quick to cover her mouth with his hand, holding it there as his other hand gripped her hip, supporting her weight and sinking her down onto his cock. She continued to squeal, muffled by his hand, until he was buried to the hilt inside her, and then she was breathing in and out quickly through her nostrils. She rolled her hips, sucking him deeper, and she groaned this time. As he started to slowly fuck her, she reached up to squeeze his meaty forearm, opposite hand fisting in his jacket again. He picked up speed, rocking her body up and down on the wall, and she couldn’t believe any of this was happening. Was she dreaming? That’d be cruel.

“You’re taking me so well,” Gunther praised, and she whined, squirming in his embrace. “This pussy was made for my cock, wasn’t it?” 

She nodded, a stifled yes caged in her throat. She wouldn't argue the point even if she could. Her pussy was full, fuller than it ever had been, wetter, and she felt her orgasm building, but that couldn’t be right because no man had ever made her cum simply by penetration alone. Her entire being was vibrating with the quickness of Gunther’s pumps, still grasping his forearm and jacket, holding on for dear life and that ever elusive orgasm-that-she-wasn’t-responsible-for.

“You’re perfect,” he mumbled into her ear. She almost wilted in his possession, but if her body slacked even a little bit, Gunther’s cock would never again find that spot inside her. 

“Please,” she begged. “Please … I’m gonna cum.”

“All over my cock, dirty girl,” he panted. Had someone else called her a dirty girl, she might have laughed at them, but with Gunther’s accent and his tone and just the fucking breathlessness loaded her orgasm from 28% to 99%. “So your pussy will get even tighter,” he went on, “so you can make the champion cum.”

She screamed, a literal scream, and Gunther squeezed her mouth. She did exactly as she was told, clenching around his dick as she came for the first time by a dick, body shuddering while she rode the waves of ecstasy. She was able to experience most of it before Gunther grunted, pulling out with a nasty pop, and he set her carefully back on her feet.

“Down on your knees, dirty girl,” he said, his hand lifting from her mouth. 

She licked her lips, tasting him, and she slowly descended to her knees, which she had to spread to avoid putting any weight on the belt Gunther had discarded earlier, hands sliding down his chest and abs as she went. He jerked his glistening cock over her face, leering at her, and she grasped his thighs. Every instinct told her to stick her tongue out, and what kind of human would she be if she didn’t follow her instincts? He placed his hand on the top of her head seconds before he launched cum on her tongue and across her face, rope after rope, and it was salty and warm and her new new favorite flavor. She couldn’t read the expression on his face anymore as he used his thumb to slide all the cum from her skin into her mouth. She happily accepted all of it, sucking his thumb and cock clean for good measure. When he finished, he tucked himself back into his trunks and held his hand out. She almost placed her hand in it. Almost. At the last second, she reached between her knees for the belt and held it up for him. His chest puffed out as he accepted it from her, and she let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding when he held his other hand out for her.

“We should do that again,” Gunther said.

She grinned, her cheeks getting hot, and she pulled her top back down. “Call me when you win another championship,” she winked.