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hand-picked-star · 5 months ago

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The 13th Anniversary Arshi Fiesta

Moodboard : Historical AU

Whispers of the Heart | Chapter 11

I am not very good at writing ffs. I even read ffs very selectively. But it was an attempt of me to participate in the 13th-anniversary arshi fiesta.

I might be wrong about certain aspects of that age and era, but it's a fantasy, so why not? I don't own Arnav and Khushi and the story is purely fictional and has no relation to any living or dead. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

WARNING : MATURE CONTENT, 18+

As this chapter contains some mature/ Adult languages, I am not tagging the people I usually do as I am not sure about their preferences.

Chapter 11

They could hear the river running in the dark. His sword glistered in the firelight as she passionately worshipped the throbbing steel. Having sharped enough he swiftly impaled her causing blood to spill along her thigh. As he pricked her over and over again, sprouts of blood kept coming out of her maiden bud. She let out a brutal scream as her head kept hitting the wall repeatedly......

Scandalously, Khushi shut the book, almost flinging it to the floor as she blushed to the roots of her hair. A shudder ran through her body. What on earth had she just read? She was going to kill Sarita, that much was certain.

Earlier that day, Sarita had come over to visit her, bringing along a book she claimed would help Khushi relax and take her mind off the stress of her upcoming wedding. The cover itself didn't reveal anything about the book. Trusting her friend, Khushi had accepted the book eagerly, hoping it would provide a much-needed escape. Now, as she sat on her bed with the scandalous book in her hands, Khushi realized what a prank Sarita had played on her. The content was far from calming.

She wasn't exactly sure what the characters were doing, but from what the ladies in her household had painstakingly tried to convey over the past week, she had a vague idea. Still, this was the most explicit and gory depiction she had ever encountered. All the other books either faded to black or glossed over such details. This book made her really confused. She had never thought that act would be that scary. At least the kissing part wasn't scary. She liked that. But now she wasn't sure what to think about the other things.

As Buaji's voice reached her ears, calling her to join them, Khushi looked at the book in fear. She glanced around, desperately searching for a place to hide it. As Buaji's calls grew more insistent, she shoved the book under her pillow, hoping no one would find it there.

It was her Sagai-slash-Sagun ceremony today. The whole house was busy preparing for it. The wedding was set for the day after tomorrow. After Arnav proposed, Babuji had suggested they wait a few months to get married, giving Arnav time to settle into his new job and Khushi time to finish her semester finals. But Khushi believed it was more about Babuji wanting to confirm Arnav's sincerity. However, a month later, a telegram arrived, shattering all of Babuji's plans. It was also the first time Arnav and Khushi had a fight as a couple, if you could call it a fight. Khushi certainly did.

Arnav was away for a few days, overseeing factory production. Unable to reach him, the peon delivered the telegram to Babuji at their printing press. Babuji eventually handed it to Khushi for safekeeping. It wasn’t as if she had read his message. The telegram was open, so she didn't think much before reading it.

ADVISE COMPLETE APPRENTICESHIP NO PROMOTION WITHOUT

When Arnav returned to meet Khushi, she was already sulking. The dynamic in the household had changed drastically after he proposed. Now, he couldn't talk to Khushi alone. Every conversation had to happen in the courtyard, with the entire family, especially Buaji, keeping a close watch from a distance. When he saw Khushi, he sensed something was wrong. She was unusually quiet.

"What happened, Khushi?" His arms ached to hold her, but they were being watched.

As Khushi passed him the telegram, he read it silently. Khushi tried to gauge his reaction, but he gave nothing away. After reading it, he quietly tucked it into his pocket and continued sipping his tea.

"You need to finish your apprenticeship. Just six months left to complete two years. You need at least two full years, right?"

"I am not going."

"I won't let that happen. You have to go."

"Khushi," he sighed "I don't want to be away from you for that long. I believe I can still build a decent career without it. It would certainly help. But if I go to London now, it would take about a year, maybe even longer and I can't ask you to come with me either."

"Can you, for the first time in your life, stop seeing me as a spoiled girl and see me as someone who can accompany you on your journey of life, whether it's through struggle or abundance?"

"Where's all of this coming from?"

"Why can't you see that I don't need a big, comfortable house? I can manage anywhere you live, as long as I'm with you."

"Khushi, I promised Chachu that I'll keep you comfortable. Taking you to London and putting you in that situation doesn't exactly fulfill that promise."

"What about the fact that I could never live with myself if you sacrifice your career for me? If you were to marry a normal girl...... wouldn't you bring her with you?"

The way she said 'normal' caught Arnav's attention.

"What makes you think you aren't normal? You are normal."

"That's not what I mean. I'm extremely grateful for how I've been brought up, and I don't want to sound spoiled. But everyone around me has always walked on eggshells, shielded me from harsh realities and truths, and tried to provide me with the best things. And by doing that, they've always kept me at arm's length. I've never been included in their struggles or been aware of any problems they were going through. I just wanted to be part of their pain, their struggles. Oh God, I sounded so ungrateful."

"No, you didn't".

"You've also been one of those people who've protected me my whole life. And I fear that will continue for the rest of our lives. If you face any financial, professional, or personal challenges, you'll never share them with me. You'll probably kiss me and say everything will be alright, and then you'll handle it all alone. I'll never be a true partner, who can just be there for you, even if I can't do anything else. Because you think I can't handle the truth." Khushi kept rumbling,hoping she was making sense.

"And you're doing exactly that. You knew about your apprenticeship, didn't you? Yet you cancelled it instead of asking me to wait for a few months or planning to bring me with you until you finish. Because both of these options would put me through struggles that you think I'm not designed to endure." she finished with a melancholy tone.

They both sulked some more in silence, lost in their own thoughts and emotions. Arnav sat with furrowed brows, conflicted between his desire to protect Khushi and his realization that he might unintentionally hurting her while trying to protect her.

"Will you come with me if I ask?" Khushi didn't really need to answer that question. She would have followed him to the end of the world.

So, there they were, two days before their wedding. Arnav had an uncanny ability to persuade Babuji to do anything he wished. Khushi wondered if Arnav was aware of his influence over Babuji before.

The last few days had been strange, to say the least. Her family didn't let her meet Arnav at all, with their wedding just a week away. On the other hand, Buaji had been after her all week to teach her the etiquettes of marriage."Khushi, he will be your husband, stop calling him by his name," she would say. "Humne dekha hai tumne sabke samne kya kiya. Shaadi ke baad aise chipak ke mat rehna, log kya kahenge?"

Then there was her tiresome and futile attempt at the birds and the bees talk.

One afternoon a few days ago, Khushi was summoned to Buaji's room. Mahumati Ji had been given a task. As her mother and the wife of two other elder brothers, one of them being the groom's younger sister, it was deemed inappropriate for them to have 'the talk' with Khushi. So, only Mahumati Ji was left to carry out this task. She had advised everyone else to stay away, only Payal was present so that Khushi didn't get nervous.

"Suno, Sanka Devi, you are getting married in a few days, so your Amma asked me to have this talk with you." Mahumati Ji blushed deeply, she went pink to deep red to purple in a minute but she was determined to finish her entrusted task.

"Tum thoda sa sah lena, haan, bitiya. Aur hamare sanskaar ka thoda lihaaz bhi rakh lena, koi awaaz mat karna. You need to be very strong and just bear with it, okay, bitiya?" Mahumati Ji said with evident discomfort and fear on her face, pleading with Khushi to somehow understand everything magically.

"What?" Mahumati ji's fear was reflected in Khushi's eyes.

"Whatever happens, you know, after the wedding, in your Suhagraat. Areey, baat ko samjho, Nandkishor."

"Accha, yeh baat. Aap to aise suna rahe ho jaise koi darawani kahani ho." Khushi said, letting out a relieved breath. "By the way, Buaji, how do you know what happens on Suhagraat? You've never been married." Hayre Nandkishor, Mahumati Ji kept chanting in her head.

"Is that why you never married, Buaji? Because you got scared?" asked a confused Khushi, sending Payal into a series of giggles, both earning a glare from Mahumati Ji.

"What are you talking about? I don't fear anything. I didn't marry because I wanted to devote my whole life to my Nand Kishor," Mahumati Ji said firmly.

"Oh, accha. But, Buaji, I don't think the suhagraat activities will be that scary, you know. Many people surely do it and do it repeatedly," Khushi mused to herself.

"Hayre Nand kishor!" Buaji exclaimed, grabbing her head with both hands, "Who put that into your head? Is it Arnav? Is he the one who told you that?"

"Buaji, relax. Arnav didn't need to tell me that. I have my own brain, you know. Lots of people get married every day and lots of babies are born. Clearly, people do it quite often. And I haven't seen anyone run away after marriage either. Amma didn't, nor did Payal Bhabhi or Anjali Bhabhi," Khushi kept talking animatedly.

"I've only seen people running away to marry someone else and do suhagraat again. It can't be that scary, Buaji. Right?" Khushi said, looking at Buaji expectantly. At this point, Khushi was babbling out of nerves and fear, repeating the same thing in her mind over and over to keep herself from getting scared at the same time. Buaji wasn’t helping her at all. Meanwhile, Payal Bhabhi's breathless giggles had turned into full-blown snickers. She pressed her hands to her mouth to prevent herself from laughing out loud.

Exasperated, Buaji took a deep breath, "Ji, you have to call him Arnav Ji from now on. And stop working your brain and listen to me. I guess he will know what to do, so just let him do what he wants, okay? Iske aage mein aur kuch nahi keh sakti. Manorama, mujhse yeh nahi hoga. Hai re Nandkishor, aaj kal ki ladkiyaan."

Buaji walked out of the room, calling for her Amma and leaving Payal and Khushi alone. Payal took Khushi's hand gently. She craned her head to ensure Buaji wasn't returning before asking, "Have you ever seen a naked baby boy Khushi?

A dumbfounded Khushi nodded her head as Payal continued, "We have a hole from where we bleed every month. That thing will go in there". Khushi looked at her sister-in-law with wide eyes and gulped visibly. To ease her nerves, Payal leaned in and whispered reassuringly, "It hurts the first time, but it gets better after that."

Seeing no change in Khushi's demeanour, Payal panicked, fearing she had scared Khushi for good. "Look at me, Khushi," her voice frantic. "You like it when Arnav ji touches you, right?" Khushi's cheeks flushed red, "And you'll also like it when he will touch you on that night. Just think about that, forget about everything else, okay?" Payal said softly, cupping Khushi's cheek. "And you're right, it's not as scary as it seems," and the two sisters-in-law dissolved into a fit of shy giggles.

Another one of Buaji's hollers jolted Khushi out of her reverie and she prayed that it wouldn't be another session like that. With a sigh, she descended the stairs to respond to Buaji's call.

"Haan, Buaji, aapne bulaya?"

"Haan, Nank Kishor, look, the saree has arrived for you to wear this evening, it's your favorite color, green."

Khushi's face lit up upon seeing that beautiful emerald green saree with a red border. Delicate embellishments of gold thread adored the edges that sparkled in the light.

"Khushi will glow in that saree, you'll see, Buaji," Anjali said, hugging Khushi affectionately from the side.

Khushi did indeed glow as Arnav pinned her to the wall of her bedroom with his hand on both sides of her head as he managed to sneak into her room amidst all the festivities of that evening. Her chest rose and fell rapidly with her laboured breathing due to the effect of having him so close. Arnav kissed her on the forehead first. Slowly, he traced a path down her face, placing gentle kisses on her eyelids, the bridge of her nose, and her blushed cheeks before reaching his desired destination. As his lips touched the corner of her mouth, a surge of desire welled within him. His hand, previously braced against the wall, now found its way to her waist, drawing her closer. And that's when the trouble started. Wherever he touched, he felt her bare skin, her waist, her back. It threatened Arnav to lose control. Cornering a saree-clad Khushi in a dimly lit room, where they could be interrupted at any moment, was a bad idea, Arnav realized belatedly.

He closed his eyes and rested his forehead against hers. Khushi's hand lightly laid on his chest, feeling his heartbeat fluttering under her palm. He knew he couldn't kiss her now. If he did, he wouldn't be able to stop only at kissing. And their absence would soon be noticed by everyone. Khushi opened her eyes as she felt him pull away. In response to the question in her eyes, Arnav asked softly, "Have you heard the saying, Khushi?" He brought his lips to her ear and lightly kissed over her earring, then whispered, "Sabar ka phal meetha hota hai." Arnav smirked as he watched his already blushing fiancee blushed even harder.

"Come here, I have something for you," he said, taking her hand and guiding her to sit on the bed. As Arnav cleared a space for her to sit, a book with a black cover slipped out from under her pillow.

"What are you reading these days?" he asked, opening the book to Khushi's utter horror. She lunged at him to snatch the book away, but Arnav, being taller, held it out of her reach. His curiosity piqued by her reaction. Khushi huffed in defeat and sat down. As Arnav found out the content of the book his fiancée was reading, the only thought in his mind was, 'This girl will be the death of me.'

Khushi wished there was a hole in the floor into which she could disappear. She had never felt such mortification in her entire life. She felt Arnav sit beside her. She avoided his gaze by keeping her head down. Eventually, she couldn't help but smile as she looked up. To her surprise, Arnav was smiling back at her warmly, his expression filled with adoration instead of the mocking she had feared.

"There's nothing wrong with being curious."

Then he gently grabbed Khushi's knee and turned her whole body toward him, guiding her to sit on the bed with her feet resting between them. Then he retrieved a pair of payal from his pocket and tied them around her ankles one by one.

"You've been without wearing one for so long."

"Then why haven't you brought one earlier? You knew when they broke."

"Um... I want to keep my father's surname along with yours."

"Better late than never, Khushi," he smiled at her lovingly. "So, soon-to-be Mrs. Khushi Singh Raizada..." She placed her hand over his mouth to silence him.

"Okay, psst... that will be a long name. So, soon-to-be Mrs. Khushi Kumari Gupta Singh Raizada. After tomorrow, you can't leave me for seven lifetimes. Any final wishes?"

"Since when did you start to believe in those things?"

"I don't, but I like that 'you-not-leaving-me-forever' part."

"It goes both ways, you know."

As Arnav and Khushi got lost in each other's eyes, Khushi suddenly realized that Arnav hadn't returned her the book.

"Give that book back!" she almost shrieked.

"I don't think so".

"Aap aisa nahi kar sakte."

"Main aisa kyun nahi kar sakta?"

"No, Arnav, give it back," she kept trying.

"I was thinking I'll give it a try tonight. These are nice books. I haven't read one in a very long time." Arnav chuckled.

"You've read one before!!!" she said, surprised, as if it were a secret.

"Is the idea of me reading one so offensive?"

"No," she smiled shyly, enjoying their shared secret. "But that book is mine. you can't have it. I haven't finished reading it yet," she said, feeling bolder with each word. " Give it to me, Arnav, Please," she whispered innocently and unknowingly transported Arnav into another universe where she might say those words in different circumstances.

Arnav's mind was indeed in the gutter today. He looked away to calm his racing thoughts. Then chuckled softly as he placed the book in her palm. 'That girl will surely be the death of me,' Arnav thought to himself as he slipped out of her room unnoticed.

@arshifiesta @featheredclover @phuljari

#ipkknd #iss pyaar ko kya naam doon #arnav singh raizada #khushi kumari gupta #arshi #ipk 13th anniversary fiesta #whispers of the heart #hand picked star

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queerofcups · 2 months ago

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an August rec list

August Rec List

Why yes it is nearly the end of September and I’m just now posting my August Rec List. I’ve been busy!

Hockey RPF

come stitch me up

E | 10k | addandsubtract

Sometimes he wakes up sucking on his fingers, rutting his hips into the bed. He’ll be right on the edge of coming, the wet head of his dick trapped between his hips and the sheets, but he can’t, he can’t, not without – not without something pushed up inside, something stretching him open.

Hey man, I barely know who these players are. Is this kind of a horror story? Yes! Is it also very hot smut! Yuuuup. This is what I mean when I’m begging people not to try to explain away the dub in dubcon. Someone should be calling a doctor, an exorcist, a therapist etc. But instead, because this is fanfic, they whip their dicks out! It's great!

Interview with The Vampire

monstrous servant

Armand/Louis

E | 5k | inthebelltower

The old itch never goes away. It never feels less good to scratch.

inhuman taste

Armand/Louis

E | 1k | inthebelltower

Louis can’t help it; he wants to eat him up.

I’ve been thinking a lot about Louis as a dom as I’m writing my own WIP and this fic and the next were really instrumental in shaping my own ideas of how Louis is with Armand. I really think this and the next fic act as a great picture of the two sides of their relationship.

not a ruse, not heat

Armand/Louis

M | 872 | inthebelltower

Louis drinks from Armand’s neck. Somewhere in the compound a clock is ticking.

Let me tell you diary (islands)

Claudia/Madeline, Louis/Lestat

T | 4k | anonymous

Basically, Claudeleine don't return to Paris, don't fall for the trap, and just travel to wherever the X leads them... until…

In Sickness and In Health

Louis/Lestat

M | 3k | anonymous

“Sure, okay,” Louis huffs softly, “one coffee, why not.”

They’re engaged again by November. Claudia calls Louis the moment she finds out and scolds him for fifteen minutes straight. Hear me out, Louis barely gets the words out before she hangs up on him. Five times he tries to call her back.

Of mercy, with choice

Louis/Lestat

E | 6k | shavir_light

“I always thought that your victims were truly fortunate, to be gifted with such an exhilarating death,” Lestat says, tangled in the messy sheets. “What bliss it must have been, to be killed by one so beautiful.”

Louis and Lestat play at a fantasy. It gets a bit out of hand.

The Things We DId and Didn’t Do

M | 3k | @marbleflan (they are on tumblr, but I can't tag them)

“You are thinking of him, maybe.”

Louis looks up. It’s like Lestat is speaking in another language and Louis is reading the subtitles on a delay, or something. He can make out the words but not the meaning, for a moment.

“What?” Then it clicks.

“Armand. You are touching me. In bed,” Lestat says, casual. Maybe too casual. “But you are thinking of him.”

Louis doesn’t say anything. There’s not really anything he can say. It’s true, in a way. Not that he’s literally thinking about Armand. Not consciously. But he’s assuming Armand: Armand’s desires, Armand’s preferences, Armand’s reactions. He’s holding Lestat, he’s thinking of Lestat, he’s hard for Lestat. But he’s treating him like Armand.

Wow I sure am reccing a lot of fic about Louis and BDSM, huh? Wonder what thats about. Anyway, I think this and the fics by shavir_light work as lovely little complements to each other. More thinking about how domming wasn’t just a thing for Armand, but was something that Louis participated in, enjoys and carries with him. I also enjoy thinking about how Louis and Lestat might fall back together once Louis is back in New Orleans, but they might not settle together quite as easily. Eighty years is a long time to be apart and of course people are going to pick up quirks and require adjustments.

the body, not in stasis

Daniel/Louis

E | 1k | shavir_light

“The need to cares for your body is, in part, what tethers you to it. It’s a reminder, Daniel—that you are flesh and blood. That you are a human being,” Louis insists, in his usual verbose fashion, and Daniel can’t help but laugh as he turns to leave.

“Well, you’re welcome to come watch, if it’s so magical to you,” he says.

I think this is such a short, sweet meditation on bodies. It does the exact kind of thing I love fanfic to do, take a single point an original work makes — vampires’ bodily functions fundamentally change when they’re turned — and just has a think and does a little smut about it. I love it.

Want and Swallow and Keep

Louis/Lestat

E | 10k | shavir_light

Love, sex, possession. To Lestat, they’re all the same thing.

So this could be perfect; Louis could decide what they do, control Lestat’s actions. He could make Lestat work for it, earn Louis’ trust again by way of obedience. Louis could restrain him from doing something—something bad.

So interesting to be in such disagreement about what a fic is and how we’re supposed to take it. I think this fic is a great example of the ways Lestat and Louis treat each other poorly, and get off on it! shavir_light makes it clear that they see one party clearly in the wrong and one not. I just think it's so fun that we’re able to have such different perspectives on the same work.

Harry Potter

New Gods

Harry/Sirius

E | 4k | @thecouchsofa

It rocks Sirius to his core every time he thinks about it, because they aren’t the same – Harry and James.

Sure, Harry pushes his glasses up with the knuckle of his pointer finger. James used to do the same thing when he had dirt or sugar or random potion essence on his hands. Other people do that too. Sirius has never seen it, but they do.

I like a fic where people are having relationships that are complicated, or they “shouldn’t” be having them for whatever reason. I like the ambiguity of this fic and how Sirius is trying to insist, to us and to himself, that the ambiguity doesn’t matter when it certainly does.

Wield Me

Harry/Draco, Pre-Harry/Draco/Teddy

E | 10k | @tackytigerfic

Draco Malfoy, blacksmith, is renowned through the magical world for his skill and exquisite creations. He could quite easily spend the rest of his days making pretty trinkets for the fae court, and being handsomely rewarded for the privilege. But why take the easy route when instead he could get involved in a dangerous mission with Unspeakable Harry Potter (who also happens to be Draco's... well, he's something, isn't he?)

A little story about learning to strike while the iron is hot.

Home Truths

E | 67k | @fantalfart, @skeptiquewrites

In the off-season Harry decided to fix up Grimmauld Place and found that Draco Malfoy was the only person who could help him. A demanding career and unrelenting press scrutiny were enough to deal with before Harry added a house with a mind of its own, family history, and a tense, flirty, complicated relationship with his childhood nemesis to the mix.

On professional Quidditch, magical houses, hard choices, Life Debts, and inconvenient truths.

Honestly, this fic, to me, is more of a lovely character study than a romance. There’s a good bit of fic that Draco barely appears in but we get to learn more about Harry’s job (y’all know i’m a sucker for any fic where Harry’s not an auror) and the whole world feels very lived in.

Wonderful Anything

E | 24k | harDEEhar / @dryrsheet

They were birds of a feather, he and Draco: the pathetic bastards in love and apart.

I can hardly believe this fic is only 24k. I read the next fic immediately after this one because they both manage to offer worlds that feel so full, just from what we learn while watching people fall in love. I also love an unconventional relationship timeline, stories where people build their own lives and families they way they want and second/third/fourth tries until something finally clicks. There are just so many lovely details in this story, it really was one of the standouts of the month.

Grounds for Divorce

E | 122k | @tepre

Malfoy finds a coin. Harry finds a letter.

A story about histories, a story about families. A story about a lemon tree somewhere in Upper Egypt.

Oh God, I stayed up way too late reading this fic. Sometimes, I’ll just random think about this fic. I’ve reread it so many times. The writing is just gorgeous. The emotional character work is…is shocking in how wonderful and layered it is. It feels both so real and heightened at the same time. The whole story is cooking on high but once Harry and Draco get to the conference in Egypt? Baby, it's on flambé. I don’t know if this story is considered a classic in the Harry Potter fandom but it's quadruple platinum in my household.

#fic recs #draco/harry #iwtv #louis/lestat #claudia/madeleine #armand/louis

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dandylovesturtles · 2 years ago

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This is 2AL Propaganda

I bring you propaganda for the @rottmntpeepawpolls advocating for 2 Arms Left Leo by @intotheelliwoods in the form of another fanfic drabble! Please go check out their comic series, it is extremely good. And vote for 2AL Leo in the poll tomorrow!!

(Also Ell I'm sorry if I get f!Leo and p!Donnie's relationship wrong I TRIED

ALSO I PROMISE THIS ISN'T ANGST

also also this is set still somewhat early in his recovery time OK NOTES OVER)

...

"I can feel you lurking."

Leonardo looks up from his phone and locks eyes with Donnie, currently peeking through the crack in the curtain to his train car. He disappears from view and a moment later waltzes his way inside like he hadn't just been hiding.

"I have a question for you," he announces.

Leo sits up and drops his legs over the edge of the bed. "Shoot."

Donnie hesitates. He looks anxious, and Leo tenses in anticipation.

"It's about your timeline."

Leo's heart drops.

He'd known this would come eventually, but he'd been hoping it would be later rather than sooner. Of course they would want to know eventually, though. What happened to them. How things in his time had... ended.

He just isn't prepared for it. He isn't sure if Donnie is prepared for it, either. He's still so young. Should he really be hearing this now? What kind of damage does that cause on a young mind?

His mouth is draw when he says, "What's your question?" He scrambles to prepare answer, some way to put it off, or maybe to soften the blow, or-

"Did you still have the Lair Games in the future?"

-gape at Donnie like a fish because what?

"What?"

"Did you still have the Lair Games in the future?" Donnie repeats, a little louder as though that were the issue here.

"...We were a little busy with the whole alien apocalypse situation."

"Scoff." Donnie waves a hand. "As if a little apocalypse could stop this family from being competitive."

He has him there. Leo can't help but snort in amusement. "You're right. But it was less formal and more like... bragging about how many Krang hounds we could kill."

"Ah, I see... Well, we're lacking in those, so... goodbye."

He turns on his heel to leave.

"Hey, wait wait wait! Why the sudden interest?"

Donnie turns back around. He still looks anxious, but now Leo realizes it's more embarrassed than upset like he initially thought.

"Well, as you know, I am the current champion of the Lair Games."

"Heh, as if you'd let me forget."

"And I'm very eager to defend my title! And especially after his-slash-your nefarious tricks last time, I'm ready to grind Nardo to dust." He rubs his palms together with an unhinged glee, and Leo winces internally. Yikes. "But..." and there he stops, "Leo seems... reluctant to participate. We did not design the events with... one of us missing a limb in mind."

Ah, right. Hard to do a Handstand Hillbomb with only one arm. Even if they put things off until Leo's port and prosthetic were ready, he probably still wouldn't be experienced enough with it to do anything too taxing.

Leo could already imagine his younger counterpart had waved it off with a smile and a, "You guys have fun," and, "I'll be cheering for you." He would swing by his room later to check on him; for now he had another kid to deal with.

"So that's why you came to me?"

"I was hoping you might have some ideas for alternative events."

"Hmmm... I might be able to think of some." He grins. "On one condition."

Donnie looks wary. "What?"

"I get to play, too."

"What, so you can twist both my ankles this time!?" Donnie shakes his head. "Oh no. One of you is enough."

"Come on! It'll be fun."

"Doubt! And besides, the bylaws state that we can't add anyone to the competition."

"Ah-ah." He waves a finger. "The bylaws state that the competition is between Raphael, Michelangelo, Donatello, and..." He trails off, putting a hand on his plastron with a smirk.

Donnie's eyebrows are furrowed so hard they're at risk of smudging. "...You have out loopholed me, sir."

"Don't worry, I'll give you guys-"

"Do not."

"-a handicap."

"Groan! Why didn't I send Mikey to do this instead?"

"'Cause you love me." Leo gets up from the bed, walks over and catches Donnie in an affectionate headlock before he can flee. "Alright. Let's get brainstorming!"

#dandy fanfiction #2 arms left #2al propaganda #rise donatello #rise leonardo #future leonardo #lair games my beloved #not enough lair games shenanigans in rise fics #not that this is really that but anyway #VOTE FOR 2AL THE MOST WHOLESOME PEEPAW #I straight up did not proofread this so sorry if there are mistakes

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kiloueka · 3 months ago

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Okay, I still have not heard one convincing argument that not voting does more good than voting for the lesser of two evils.

Like, I'm genuinely asking this and am not trying to be petty or smug or whatever.

I'm talking about the simple act of voting; not donating to campaign funds, not harassing people who are rightfully angry at genocide Joe/Kamala, not wasting time trying to get people to vote but not doing any other activism, not blaming nonvoters solely for xyz candidate losing when there's multiple factors that contributed to their loss.

I mean the simple act of spending a few hours every 2 years filling in some bubbles to try to slow our descent into fascism.

Like, I get that many libs think voting is the end-all-be-all of activism and that Kamala is our savior or something. I get the argument that dems aren't going to move left if people continue voting for them without question/pushing. I get how the dems are basically dangling our basic rights in front of us to get our votes. And I get that the dems are still fucking terrible and the end goal is to tear it all down and start over.

But I don't get how risking letting someone worse win to threaten/punish them is a valid strategy. Like, it seems too high-stakes to me.

I don't get how the argument is any different than, say, "protesting/rioting is shit because it's destructive and disrupts people' lives".

I don't get how it's better than just pushing people to do more on top of voting.

Like "here are the shitty things Kamala is doing and here's what to do about them". Or "Here's the few bubbles to fill to reduce the number of orphans going into the orphan crushing machine and here's the plan to destroy the machine after you turn in your ballot."

Being against voting all feels very "You claim to want things to improve yet you participate in society. I am very intelligent." I would very much not have to beg for my rights every election and instead burn the whole thing down and guillotine all the politicians but unfortunately my body is falling apart and my brain is shit so voting is one of the few things accessible to me.

I don't get how voting for a candidate that will protect (some of) your rights while trying to kill other groups is selfish when the only other option is trying to kill you AND them. How would the less at-risk groups help fight for the rights of the more at-risk groups if they're too busy also being killed if Trump wins? How would me risking my rights by not voting do any sort of material good for Palestinians facing genocide or kids in cages?

It seems like the arguments all seem to boil down to "pulling the trolley lever is icky because people will still die so I'll let someone else choose" or "there are two genders: voting or REAL activism (you can only pick one)" or "5000 bad things is exactly the same as 3000 bad things" or "if enough people don't vote then nobody will win the election"

I'm just trying to do what good I can do because I can't do much.

#politics #voting #blue no matter who #my shitposts

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afra-blueraz · 8 months ago

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🦋 Admin Afra talks:

There are three people in this fandom who write the best stories and all three of them are working on a novel that is not finished yet. Every day I wake up with the hope that you three will release a new chapter.

@callmeklair : her Shinyui fanfic

@shuyui-nether : her Kouyui fanfic

@diabolik-art-blog : her Shuyui fanfic. Moni come on. You left your story in a killing part.

I know that each of you has your own difficult situation. I just want to tell you that I am impatiently waiting for you. No matter how long it takes. I am waiting to read the story of you three in full.

So, before you attack me in anonymous messages because I have an unfinished novel myself, let me explain 😅.

This season is the entrance exam season in my country. Last year, even though I got the first place, I could not go to university because of the bad conditions in my country, and this year I have to participate in this exam again. And as you know, in addition to being a student, I am also a working person. It is very difficult to balance my work and my studies. And let's also consider that this year I had a side activity and published my first series of novels in my country.

All this made me neglect my paintings and blogs a bit. This is the reason for my low activity. Believe me, I received a lot of messages asking for the next chapter. And I promise myself every day to write a new chapter.

And as I said, it's hard for me to balance all these things. Also consider that I am only 19 years old.

Please don't give me disappointing messages that I want to leave the fandom. I love this fandom and my friends. I'm just a little busy. However, I will try my best to present you a new painting or a new chapter whenever I can. Thank you for understanding.

#admin talks #admin afra talks

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ryuichirou · 1 year ago

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Hi I just wanted to also throw in my support and let you know that I'm sorry you're dealing with people being horrible. Art is meant to be whatever you want it to be and just because you like something in fiction doesn't mean you like it in real life or are some monster indorsing literal crimes (That's why it's called FICTION). You have an amazing art style and a great sense of humor and even though there are some things I don't like that you make I know all I have to do is skip them. People need to understand the difference between participating in ways to limit real threats real threats (like refusing to consume media made by proven abusers and crinimals) and functionally conservative censorship (even if they don't want to admit that is what they are doing) just because they do not like something or it makes them uncomfortable (especially when that censorship many times comes with unsubstantiated accusations and literal death threats). I'm not one to have the mind set of 'back in my day things were better!' because no they weren't, but one thing my generation did do right was learn how to block and ignore things that they were uncomfortable with instead of deciding that the best route to take is literal cyber attacks (I hate calling it 'bullying' since that doesn't even cover half the horrible stuff I've seen people say and do) on people to the point of wanting them to kill themselves over literal fictional characters in art.

I AM AND ALWAYS WILL BE A FIRM SUPPORTER OF NON-CENSORSHIP! NO MATTER WHAT NAME FUNCTIONAL CONSERVATIVES CALL THEMSELVES.

I'm sorry this was a rant but please know that you do have people who support you and even if I don't like everything you do, ultimately your art isn't for me. It's for you, and no one has a right to tell you what you are and are not allowed to create. I hope that things get better. <3333

Thank you very much for your kind words of support. I always say that, but I mean it: it's super important to hear that there are people who understand where we're coming from and let us know about it and are willing to express their opinion. Your ask actually really cheered us up that day <3

You’ve made a lot of great points, and I agree with you wholeheartedly! An artist has their freedom to draw and post whatever they want, and the viewer has their freedom to look at it or block it and forget it. If you don’t like it or don’t get it, it’s not for you to get – it’s plain and simple like that.

And yes, there ARE ways to limit irl threats and problematic situations! There are groomers, a lot of them are in fandom spaces, but these folks are looking at the wrong people. And they know it damn well, their goal isn’t actually to bring justice or make someone feel safe: if that was the case, they would just have a list of tags to block and that would suffice nicely.

Also you’re right, things weren’t better back then, but people really did seem to mind their business and ignore/block stuff they don’t want to see more often. And even when artists/writers/people in general received shit from others, it was understood by everyone than people doing this stuff were just straight-up trolls whose entire goal was to mess with others. But nowadays people who harass, bully, threaten and send “kys” messages somehow try to make it seem like they are morally superior to their victims??? Which makes them even more closely resemble pro-censorship conservatives. Honestly, it’s stupid how similar these people sound to some of the 70 y.o. fools who run our country and the censorship laws they create. It’s like verbatim sometimes. Sorry, I digress.

Once again, thank you so much for your support <3 I hope you are having a great day.

#replies

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artfightdramaconfessions · 1 year ago

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So, this year I did my first Art Fight; I had joined in 2021 but kept myself as a spectator to observe it and see what the rules would be like, how things are done, the general etiquette of it - and I think, being involved in the fight is very different from watching it.. Wholesome, sweet and kind on the outside; very distant, lazy and disorganized on the inside.

Personally, however, I had a wonderful time! I think I pumped out loads of art and I am proud of what I did for others; high-quality, fully-rendered, respect being given to character features and everything being on-model. I drew exactly 80 pieces, majority of them being waist or fullbody, and only about 5 simple-shaped characters and 3 mass attacks. It was heartwarming to see much of it later being posted on Toyhouses, in the character's reference pages, and elsewhere. All around, I was satisfied in what I was able to provide and enjoyed drawing characters I wouldn't personally design, like drawing really cute girls and ferals when I usually lean to monsters and men! I found unique designs, novices and beginners, all sorts.

And while I got a quarter of defenses in return which I absolutely cherish and some sweet comments on a majority of my pieces, I saw how others have complained about not being given responses for work that they've poured hours into... That made me wonder if that's just.. Generally the mentality of artists now; either too introverted to show appreciation to fellow artists in spite of us collectively knowing how challenging it can be to make art, or just joining to farm and then acting too tired or busy to actually participate. - And then the other half almost kill themselves and psychologically drain themselves in the parasocial cycle that Art Fight has to offer in its "trading environment". Sure I could be classified in the latter group too, but I still practiced self-care and got shit done compared to the burnout horror stories I see. It's quite a wild contrast to observe, and leads to psychological turmoil on both sides when one only gives and the other only takes.

There's also the case of people joining the fight and not contributing at all; just picking a side, dropping some characters, (sometimes a broken promise) and then disappearing. I do not want to hear the "they have real lives off the internet, they were busy" excuse, either - I too have a life: I am a teacher during the week /and/ I have a weekend job. When it is summer holidays for the Northerners, I am down in the Southern hemisphere, dealing with the winter, working and freezing my hands up to the point I don't want to create art sometimes when I get home - but I was still perfectly diligent and on top of things.. But hey, maybe I'm built different, and some people are simply just lazy and want rewards without the effort, or quickly assume they deserve more than what they should.

On the bright side, I'm glad I didn't deal with anyone hostile or disrespectful, and I only encountered two genuine art farmers who pretended they didn't know how to draw or "weren't skilled". Always the same excuses, at some point we have to stop giving them the benefit of the doubt so often; As gatekeepy as it is, I'd imagine a game for artists should be reserved for artists, it's not like an unfit marine biologist would want to participate in the Olympics, let alone be allowed to, so why should people who otherwise hate drawing or don't want to learn the skill and deliberately say such things want to join? In a sense it feels like a mockery towards art and the exchange of creativity in general, and I've been on porn sites that check the quality of your art before they post it better than this! There should be at least an entry requirement for signing up for Art Fight where you send in an artwork before the mods verify your account; there would be a fuckload less farmers, for certain.

I'm hoping that maybe, just because it was my first Art Fight, that /maybe/ this high-attack low-defense ratio of mine is to be expected, and if I just manage to spread my art to even further crowds and find new people to attack, I'll find others who will like my designs and be eager to draw them with the same level of eagerness I had to draw theirs. All that matters to me is if I find people who /want/ to draw my characters, not feel obliged to, in the same way I was never obliged to draw that pink, ridiculously-well-endowed Succubus or stocky, angry little Pokemon - but I did it anyway! I simply enjoyed the spontaneity and diversity of character design and unfamiliar fandoms. In the end, after all I've said, it doesn't matter how much art you get in return, it's about how proud you feel about what you contributed to the fight, and what you learned and discovered in the fun little world of character design.

I don't feel discouraged to draw less next year, I'm going to simply relent, but I can see why other artists hang their heads after their first time when they encounter hostility, are ignored, or don't get what they want out of it.

I think these are some things that I would want to improve if I could:

The ratio should calculate points, that will really incentivize people into prioritizing quality over quantity with their attacks. If you want to see how many attacks VS defenses someone has, just go and check on their front page (if you want it to specifically see how many attacks and defenses they had in one year specifically, they should add a sorting filter for that). The only "downside" I can imagine is an increase in mass-attacks, a joy for some but not for others.

After July, I think that we should still be able to submit Revenge-Only attacks during August - and to not have revenge chains be exploited, only be able to post a revenge once on a Level 1.. Level. I see a lot of people seeming guilty for not being able to attack back within the month or being a minute too late to submit a revenge, and then also just being too shy to submit the attack off-site / not being able to do it offsite / not thinking it's worth it without getting points / etc. - and easy resolve would be to allow revenges to still be posted during August, and Moderators can calculate the event scores and winners in September; trying to cram all of the admin into 12 days is insanity and I am speaking from a perspective that deals with a painful amount of admin. Also, get a fucking search bar that's accessible for everyone, holy Hell.

I'm.. Not sure if my tangent was in good spirits or not, it's rather just thoughts that have been rolling around in my head while I've been reflecting on my experience. Hope everyone else had a good Art Fight and reached their goals, or met and made some friends through it. :)

#art fight #artfight #artfight2023 #submission

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iliveinabarbieworld · 3 months ago

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Daddy issues? - Am I too old for that?

The harsh truth about me is something I don’t want to say out loud, but I’ll say it anyway because therapy is expensive, and blogging is my only way to release what’s on my mind to feel less lonely. I know no one will read this, but I hope that someday I’ll share it with someone who cares about me and accepts my thoughts, even if they think they’re wrong. I just want someone to read my thoughts without judgment and understand that I’m just a girl living in a crazy world, trying to get through each day with emotions that I’m doing my best to control.

My father doesn’t want to take care of me because I’m too much to handle, and he can’t make me follow whatever it is he wants. He’s been an absent father for as long as I can remember. I constantly crave his love and affection, wishing he could be there to treat me like a princess, protect me from the cruelty of the world, and provide for me so I could live a comfortable life. But that’s not my reality. If only he had been with me as I was growing up—especially during my teenage years and early twenties—I might have made different choices. I don’t regret my past, but I think things would have been very different if I had felt his presence.

He gave me gifts to try to make me follow his rules, rules that made him look like a responsible father and boosted his image. Maybe he thinks that’s the right thing to do. He really believes he’s a responsible and good provider. He gave us what we needed, and I’m forever grateful for that. Though he wasn’t physically present, he made sure to chat with us, let us know he existed, and occasionally offered advice and hope to keep us going. I suppose that should be enough, and I shouldn’t expect more from him. I need to stop dreaming of the perfect father figure I wish he could be and just love him for who he is, appreciating what he can offer. I know he’s trying, and I know he’s confused, sad, and lonely too. But as his child, I can’t help but want more from him, and I feel guilty for that. Don’t get me wrong—I love him unconditionally and appreciate everything he’s done for us. I respect him and think highly of him. He’s my hero. I wouldn’t be who I am today without all he’s endured.

He’s with someone now, and I hate it. I can’t accept that he’s acting so righteous. I think too highly of him to see him as just another human being trying to survive loneliness. That’s why it hurts to see him in this situation, not with his family, but with his “friend,” his ex-girlfriend, while still married. He makes everyone, including the people from church, believe they’re just friends. For fuck’s sake, be honest! The lies are killing me. Why can’t they admit they’re in love and fight for it? My father says he’s already married to my mom, and he should keep his promise to God and honor the words he gave to her parents, which I truly admire but also question. How can he claim to be honoring those promises while still emotionally involved with his ex under the guise of friendship? I don’t want to participate in that messed-up situation. The world is confusing enough without us making it more complicated by not being honest with ourselves.

It's a show that I can’t understand, and I don’t even know how to process it. I don’t want to participate in it because it confuses me and makes me question everything. He’s not being honest with his own feelings and emotions because he’s considering many things. I guess I can’t fully understand this now because I’m not yet married or a parent. I know he’s trying to prevent even more damage to protect our family and everyone’s reputation, including his ex’s—friend?—whatever they want to call it. But as their child, it’s confusing for me. Everything is confusing.

I should start focusing on myself rather than on my parents or anyone else’s business. I need to be part of the solution, not create more drama and confusion. I’ll help my parents by focusing on my own life, making sure I’ll be okay, and writing my own story based on what I’ve learned from life and our family’s situation. Hopefully, I won’t make the same mistakes they did and will create a better life for myself and, if I have children, for the future generation. I hope it will be far better than what my parents have endured.

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darkrpfinders · 4 months ago

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Hazbin Hotel (OCxCC Doubles Welcomed)

❤️❤️😈😈😇😇🪽🪽

LETS DO THIS AGAIN HOPEFULLY THE HAZBIN HOTEL FANDOM ISN’T DEAD!!!!

I’m 18+ and All Participants must be 18+ and all characters must be 18+

Please allow me to introduce myself! My name is Kim and my timezone is CST. I rp in third person and am semi literate. I will write 2-4 paragraphs each character and just ask you write no one liners.

Now onto the rp. Let’s do this again! I Love like LOVE Hazbin Hotel and I love love Vox! Like coke on dude may act like an asshole but he is those morally grey fictional men and will spoil and protect his significant other. Like I feel like he’d spoil her and such. Anyways I would ask if you could play Vox. Please portray him as best you good but I’m really asking for those who have played him before or can play him well. Idk as long as he has that touch her and I’ll kill your energy as well as a dominant character. I do also want to talk about ocs and be friends and just get all cute with our Ocs hahaha and their respective partners. A little snippet is my oc will be an overlord who is the actual Overlord of Weapons but Carmila is hee decoy because of people wanting her dead based on some rumor Val made and she is also from the 1920s. I kinda add her magic is that she can summon any weapon by thought and it would be made.

Now Rules:

1. BE OF AGE BECAUSE THIS CONTENT IS NOT FOR MINORS!!! BIG NO NO!!!

2. Next is reply length.. NO ONE LINERS

3. I'm a very enthusiastic person when it comes to rp, so please if you just want to write don't reach out. That may seem harsh but when writing I want someone who I can discuss head canons with, create playlists with and share thousand image Pinterest boards with...

4. Another is please please let me know if can’t rp or busy!

I run on CST time. I also only rp on Discord! I do double and I don’t mind doubling!

Thank you for reading! If you're interested please do let me know you want Hazbin Hotel rp not just I saw your ad. I have ton of them.

#hazbin hotel rp #hazbin hotel roleplay #mxf #dark roleplay #dark rp

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elodieunderglass · 2 years ago

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Hi!

I have enjoyed your posts about salsify and would very much like to inflict salsify seeds on my nearest and dearest for them to grow. Do you have any recommended suppliers of seeds? I am in the UK.

Thank you!

In reference to this post about there being food plants you rarely find in shops, because they don’t meet the needs of supermarket supply chains, like white salsify, a plant that bleeds red sticky latex when bruised.

Seed buying season usually starts around December, unless you’re planning a bulk order as part of a collective, so many of these places won’t have their final 2023 collections up. Here are the companies I like best and why.

MoreVeg: https://moreveg.co.uk/epages/bd0b9b93-06b9-4b49-9efb-f179fdacfbdd.mobile/?ObjectPath=/Shops/bd0b9b93-06b9-4b49-9efb-f179fdacfbdd SALSIFY: SOMETIMES, CHECK BACK IF IT ISN’T THERE.

What I like about MoreVeg is that she

1. Only sells a small amount for a cheaper price, I.e. 3 pumpkin seeds, because let’s be real, you aren’t really growing more than 3 pumpkins of the same type at the same time: you want lots of different ones. So, like, while other people sell you an absurd amount of runner bean seeds, like 324 or something wild, she puts 20 in a packet, because that’s what a normal person would want.

2. She writes a little handwritten note in the packet and it makes me feel like she really remembers me every year 🥹

3. She carries some lines I like, like she GETS having weird decorative pumpkins in a way that most British people don’t.

4. She does cheaper collections of useful things, like green manure collections, pollinator-friendly bloom collections, meadow flowers for cutting collections, “carrots of all colors,” all nicely portioned and cheaper.

5. I personally don’t care hugely about everything being heirloom, so it’s nice that she has a mixture.

RealSeeds: https://www.realseeds.co.uk SALSIFY: check back if not there!

The real MVPs. You guys know how I love and value graunchy 1990s websites, right? I love and value the RealSeeds website. From their Art Nouveau paper packets (plastic free!) to the way that they throttled orders during the COVID seed rush to keep staff safe, everything they do is extremely thoughtful and ethical. (Lots of people see the title and think they’re associated with RareSeeds, the USA-based Mennonite heirloom seed people, but they’re not: this is a UK-based band of unproblematic heirloom seed fanatics.) They’re in the business of supplying, preserving, testing and promoting rare heirloom seeds, and do not carry ANY hybrids.

1. Probably the best and funniest part of their business model is how they constantly try to convince you to stop buying seeds from them, because you should really save and grow your own seeds, instead of buying them. I love businesses that try to talk you out of participating in capitalism.

2. This is where I got my Glass Gem popping corn from (and I did indeed save my own seeds to plant the following year!) As nowhere else in the UK carries them.

3. As you may have gathered, I’m a big fan of using The Best Plant For The Job (Rather Than Killing Myself Having All My Plants Be Unproblematic.) so I am not HUGELY concerned about using hybrids for some of my favourite reliable plants - like for example the Summer Ball F1 hybrid courgette, which meets all of my needs so perfectly that I’m just NOT going to wrestle with trying to get all those properties I like in an heirloom that will make my life harder. I’m just not. I already have a day job in saving the world, not everything has to be perfect. However, I really support RealSeeds, so I do my best to buy as much as possible from them - while also putting them out of business, by saving my own seed where it makes sense.

4. All of their listings are so brilliantly and awesomely written and formatted in EXACTLY the style I like, like, please read these: https://www.realseeds.co.uk/otherbeans.html

5. They do a lot of interesting work trying to source heirlooms from around the world and select strains that can produce in the UK’s environment. Glass Gem, for example, is one of the only “Indian corns” you can grow in the UK, and RealSeeds selected the other! They also carry things like edamame, rainbow quinoa, and a particularly productive strain of amaranth - food plants from around the world that don’t mind settling in the UK. I also love how whenever the staff eat something like “a particularly tasty squash they’ve never seen before” in their travels abroad, they find the grower and ask respectfully to trade seeds.

Victoriana Nursery wouldn’t normally stand out in this crowd on seeds, they just don’t have the selection, I see their big strength as being in fruit trees and fruit bushes: but have a great collection of offbeat herbs for natural remedies: https://www.victoriananursery.co.uk SALSIFY: YES

Raid their catalogue for things like dyer’s chamomile (which makes a yellow dye) bergamot (for making your own Earl Grey?) and the original Marsh Mallowroot (a distinctive herb whose flavor is obvious if you think about it!)

King’s Seeds UK in association with Suffolk Herbs: https://www.kingsseeds.com SALSIFY: YES

Our allotment community goes in on a yearly seed order: bulk seed orders that meet a minimum order threshold can get up to 50% discount on seeds. The committee are very keen on pressing the paper catalogues into your hands, with bulk order forms already tucked inside. I got the 50% bulk discount this year, which worked out okay.

1. Their selection is very no-nonsense and the varieties are all the kind of very productive, market-garden old reliables - not very bold or sexy. Honestly? If you mean to be serious about growing food, that’s what the bulk of your land should prioritise. It’s fun to mess around the edges with black tomatoes and purple carrots and experiments in growing heirloom quinoa, and you should DEFINITELY do all of that!!! but if you mean to be serious and have enough vegetables to make chutneys or preserves, open up a catalogue like this one and look for high reliability and disease resistance.

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kiridarling · 4 years ago

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𝐈𝐍 𝐋𝐈𝐌𝐁𝐎.

thank you so much to @daisy-bakugo for letting me participate in her vice city collab! i had a blast writing this piece, and i’m terribly sorry this is so long that was a mistake (and congrats on 2k!!) also, the phattest of thank you’s to @eijishimas for brainstorming/beta-ing :) you saved me ☺🤲🏼

katsuki bakugou and eijirou kirishima | f!reader, time travel sex, guns, prostitute/stripper idrk!reader, tw!blood (non-descriptive), dacryphilia, squirting, spit roasting, d-penn, shower sex, multiple rounds. minors dni!

— 5k words (yikes)

"Say, Sweetheart. You wanna get outta here?"

Las Vegas, Nevada. April 15th, Year 3036.

"You ready?"

Mina shoots you a look through the golden-lit mirror, wiggling her eyebrows. You roll your eyes and finish dusting the powder off your cheeks before rising to your feet and tugging at the belt of your silk robe. "My answer's the same every night."

Vice City. A strip club and casino in Las Vegas, Nevada, where opposites collide—the poor and the rich, the beautiful and the ugly, the smart and the stupid. There's no judgment because here, they're all degenerates looking for a good time, and you're just a pretty face with a good body.

As your silk robe hits the floor, it's kicked to the side with a heel, and you saunter through the beaded entrance to your private room and into the vibrating club. Giving your bodyguard a solid pat on the shoulder as you watch the sea of bodies shake, you complete the ritual.

"No creeps?" You demand more than request. He nods curtly.

"No creeps."

You give him a cute little smile and let your hand linger for a little longer than necessary before stepping into the neon red chaos of the strip club. Because what do the rich and the poor have in common?

They're all addicts.

Surprisingly, humanity doesn’t kill the planet.

Mother Nature's still standing strong—though the sun is a bit swollen—and space exploration solved that overpopulation issue. Bill Gates taught us all how to avoid a climate disaster and Tesla put Ford out of business. Humanity is much bigger than earth now; we're no longer people of the planet, but an intergalactic species that still eat Costco pizza rolls for dinner but killed Cable along with cars with wheels. Costco still exists—Starbucks doesn't.

Still no aliens, though.

"See something you like, Cutie?"

In your defense, he's been standing over here with his friends for ages—almost like they're casing the damn place—but those ruby red eyes kept floating your way regardless, and you'd rather bag it with someone your age before you're requested by another seventy-year-old. The redhead blinks like he's shocked you came over here in the first place—like he didn't watch you sashay yourself to the other side of the club just for him. You suppose the name fits. Cutie.

He looks at you with a strangely giddy look on his face before he's licking his lips and swallowing, eyes flickering to the blondie to his right.

"I'll be back in like, twenty minutes, man."

The blond gives him an exasperated look and groans—his other two friends don't notice. "Eiji—"

"Twenty minutes!" The redhead yells over the music as you not-so-subtly pull him away. Your regular GILF looks your way, and you suppress the queasy feeling in knowing that at least you'll be able to fuck someone from your decade.

"You got a wallet, Cutie?" You purr as you two approach the back room. The redhead winks, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out the fattest black leather wallet you've seen in a long time.

"Don't go anywhere without it," he says, but falters when your bodyguard holds his hand out with a request for fifty bucks. "I—whoa dude, why am I paying you?"

"Because that's how it goes. The young lady gets her share," your bodyguard clarifies. The redhead looks at you for what seems to be for confirmation. You nod.

"Alright," he resigns with a shrug, stuffing a fifty into your bodyguard's sweaty hand. The man grunts but clears some of the beads guarding the entrance to your private room anyways, giving you two enough space to go inside.

"No door? That seems a little...exposing," the redhead snorts to himself before he's holding his hand out, despite the fact that you’re already nestling comfortably in his lap. "Eijirou, by the way."

You take his hand apprehensively, and he snorts at your confused frown. Eijirou's big—painfully so, and you feel small sat upon his thick thighs because you are in comparison—and he has to curve his back a bit so you're at eye-level. "What? No one's introduced themselves to you before?"

You shake your head, "Usually they just throw me onto the bed and get right to it."

Eijirou rolls his eyes at that, and you don't realize he's guiding your hips into a smooth roll until the harsh fabric of his jeans brushes against you in the best way. He moves you in time with the music vibrating the walls, "I guess that makes me more of a gentleman, then."

His lips hover over yours and yet he never advances, doesn't move to kiss you on the lips, nothing—it nearly has you buzzing. So does the hand he pins you to his lap with. "Are you going to kiss me or what?"

"What's your name, Sweetheart," he asks lowly. You give it to him, and he grins.

"Y/N,” Eijirou tries on his lips before he confirms it with a nod. "A pretty name for a pretty girl."

"Aren't you the flatterer," you purr, coiling your arms around your neck. His hand finds your ass and you're almost positive he's going to close the gap between you two until he says:

"Who were you runnin' from, Y/N?”

Years in the business help build a mask and you wear yours well, with that cute little smile as you cock your head to the side and ask, "I'm afraid I'm not following."

"Oh, I think you are," he says, looking you dead in the eyes. The gravity in his face doesn't falter. "Who was it."

As he stares into your soul, your own eyes avert to the sheets. "What's it to you?"

"It's nothing to me, really," he shrugs off his jacket and places it on the bed next to him before returning to his initial position—or perhaps, closer. "But I happen to find you real cute, and cute things deserve to feel safe, no?"

"In case you haven't checked, this isn't a very safe place," you scoff, removing your arms from his neck to cross them over your chest. "And I don't appreciate idiots like you trying to save someone like me just 'cause you wanna get your dick wet more than once."

Eijirou raises an eyebrow but he never stalls, "Oh? This happens often then?"

"I—" you falter, "...No."

"C'mon, Sweetheart," Eijirou tugs you by the waist and you have to press your hands to his chest to keep him from falling forwards. "You don't wanna stay in this place, do you?"

"It's my job," you defend with a huff. The redhead shrugs.

"Sure, but don't you want a little adventure? A little excitement in your life?"

"Like there isn't enough excitement right here?" You snort. Eijirou teeters his head back and forth, though the daring look never fades.

"But something tells me you're bored," he says with a near sarcastic face, clicking his tongue. "Something tells me you find the idea of something new exciting."

You open your mouth to respond but he keeps you from doing so, finally pressing his lips to yours. You nearly squeal in surprise but somehow, you find yourself kissing back with a passion you've never kissed another client with before—and maybe, just maybe, the idea of something new doesn't sound too bad.

Eijirou pulls away with a cocky grin like he knew you'd like it. Like he knew that'd be the catalyst for your response to what he says next, and maybe, he's not as much of an idiot as you thought.

And maybe you’re more of an idiot than you thought.

"Say, Sweetheart. You wanna get outta here?"

"Yes," you breathe, like an idiot, because you were wholly and utterly unprepared for what happens next.

Eijirou gives you the cutest smile, before reaching into his jacket and pulling out a gun.

He sees your expression change and lifts both hands, pointing the black pistol towards the ceiling, "I—hey wait, you're gonna be fine, okay? I won't shoot you."

You cower and he pouts. Apparently, this wasn't the reaction he was expecting at all.

"I swear! I'm mentally stable, see?" He flips it sideways with a grin, "the safety's on."

You hate it that his comment makes you trust him. Slightly.

"C'mon," Eijirou smiles, reaching his gunless hand out for you to take. You do, albeit reluctantly. "I won't do anything too stupid. Just...shake things up a bit."

Shake things up a bit, Eijirou says, and yet the first thing he does is when you two exit the room is press the pistol to your bodyguard’s head.

"Eijirou," you hiss. Luckily no one in the club has noticed, yet, but you doubt their ignorance will last for long.

"I'm gonna need my fifty back, buddy," Eijirou pats the man on the back, and it's strange—you've always thought your bodyguard to be a big guy, but he looks rather petite next to the redhead. Your bodyguard reaches for his walkie-talkie, but Eijirou tuts, tapping his hand away with the tip of his gun.

"Hey dude, I'm not gonna shoot you. See? The safety's on," He repeats, flashing the barrel. Your bodyguard's eyes widen, and so do yours.

The safety isn't on.

"So, that fifty," Eijirou purrs, and your bodyguard stuffs the bill into his chest with a grumble. Eijirou hums, satisfied, and gives the crumpled bill to you without a second glance, too busy nodding to his friend on the other side of the strip club. A noirette from across the way nods back.

Pop-pop!

It's fucking chaos, as anyone would expect when blindly firing into a crowded club. Eijirou keeps a tight hold on your hand as he and his other three boys storm towards the pit bosses working the casinos with guns a-blazing, demanding they fill their pillowcases like a bunch of C-class thugs.

What the fuck did you get yourself into.

"This is not what I meant by excitement," you hiss through grit teeth as a terrified pit boss fills Eijirou's bag like he's a greedy kid with an attitude on Halloween, while your co-workers cower under the bar and pool tables. Eijirou sticks his tongue your way.

"This isn't the exciting part, Little Miss Excitement."

It's the steady sound of sirens that has your eyes widening, and the fact that you're positive they're getting louder. You catch sight of your bodyguard on his walkie-talkie, big body cowering behind the smallest trashcan, and turn back just in time to see Eijirou squint as he aims and shoots bullseye.

"That is."

The police have lost sight of two vehicles carrying the four armed men who robbed Vice City Casino and Club tonight at roughly 2:53 am. Witnesses say they came in a group of four but left with an exotic dancer named—

The moment the blondie from the club sees you walk through the door, he’s tossing the stack of bills in his hand with a sigh.

"Katsuki, Y/N. Y/N, Katsuki."

Katsuki looks nothing but happy, and refuses to acknowledge your presence as he crosses his arms.

"Ei. What the hell did we say about witnesses."

"Um," the redhead rubs his lips together before wearily looking at you, and you hike his jacket further up your shoulder. At least he was decent enough to give you that. She's an exception?"

"Not a fuckin' thing," the blond grunts, turning to you to flash a tight smile. "Goodbye."

"I—wait," Eijirou skates until he's stood over the ash-blond, with a hand on his shoulder and the other braced against the table. Speaking in a quieter voice, he says, "C'mon man. The poor thing was practically begging to get outta there."

The ash-blond does nothing but sigh before shoving a palm into a pile of money to push himself into the kitchen—and subsequently further away from you.

"She's gonna call the cops," Katsuki grunts wearily from the island, eyes narrowed. Eijirou follows.

"She's not gonna call the cops, dude," the redhead scoffs at the outlandish idea. "You heard the radio! At this point, she's as deep in it as we are."

As they continue to go back and forth over the island, you let your eyes wander. It’s a penthouse, and rather homely, with near egg yolk lighting, high walls, and big windows. You can't help but think about how you're in a strangely expensive part of the city before remembering this evening's events. No wonder they can afford such a nice place.

You find yourself smiling at a particular corner with a frustrating amount of photos stuffed on a little glass table, one that contains a selfie of the two housemates in high school uniforms. There's a ring sat in front of it, one that glints gold when you hold it up to your face, and if you squint you can see little flecks of green in the red of the ruby. It looks scarily close to an engagement ring.

"Hey, what's this?"

Both of their eyes rocket from the conversation to see you slip the delicate thing onto your ring finger.

"Don't touch it!" Eijirou tenses before realizing it's much too late for that. "Er—at least don't twist the top."

"The...top?" You ask, lifting your hand until it's at eye level.

"Yeah like, the jewel thingy," the redhead gestures to the ruby—and you can't stop thinking about how it's almost the same color as his hair. Waddling into the kitchen with your eye still trained on the thing, you ask:

"What is it?"

"A time-travel device," the ash-blond grunts. Eyes still full of suspicion, he watches you and the redhead interact over the island with arms crossed over his chest and reclining against the sink. You frown.

"Aren't those usually...bigger?" Because even though it's 3036, time-travel is still fairly new (space exploration took a long time, okay) and all the machines you've seen are at least the size of a shower. And yet, this one can sit on your pinky.

"Kats has been working on some stuff," Eijirou beams and it edges on proud; you notice the ash-blond near blushes with a huff as you hop to sit on the marble counter.

"'S nothin'."

You stare at the thing in faint amazement, and Katsuki kicks off the sink to near the island. Lifting an eyebrow, you say, "You know you could get rich off something like this? Instead of robbing strip clubs for a living.”

The ash-blond scoffs, and you wonder if someone else has told him that before. "If I gave that to the public, I have no fuckin' clue what they'd do with that shit."

And you shrug, supposing he's right—time-travel devices are hard to get your hands on, and that's for a reason. If everyone starts jumping around in the time-space continuum, fucking with shit, the world will promptly and utterly collapse. Sounds fun, doesn't it?

"It doesn't work with a big time range," Katsuki defends with a shrug, sliding his forearms on the counter. "The most it can do is a few hours"

"Not that it makes this any less cool," Eijirou says with a slight bounce. "I personally think it's really fun to play with."

Katsuki rolls his eyes. "That's 'cause you use it to fuck."

You nearly choke.

"I—what?"

"W-Well, okay," Eijirou chuckles sheepishly, scratching the back of his head. "But also other stuff! Like when I'm really hungry, I might go to the future and take some of my fries. Future me's fries, that is."

"Or you'll try to take future-me’s goddamn burger," Katsuki growls. You flip the ring over like there's anything left to see.

"How often do you use it?"

"Nightly," Katsuki answers for him. Your eyebrows lift. Oh wow.

"It—it's not nightly," Eijirou defends weakly, huffing and puffing. "Weekly maybe, but—"

"Almost every night," Katsuki sums for him, giving you a little grin. You snort back before your eyes drop to the ring again.

"Uh oh," the redhead almost gasps, fingers thrumming on the island on either side of your being, "She's thinkin' about it."

"I'm not thinking about it," you huff, though your eyes never leave the ring. It's an...interesting prospect.

"Oh, you're totally thinking about it," Katsuki grunts, and you struggle to find where his enthusiasm came from. What happened to goodbye?

"C'mon," Eijirou tempts with a casual toss of the head. He touches your shoulder—Katsuki touches the other. "See what happens."

"What if—" you stare at the ring with pursed lips, fingers grabbing the ruby. "What if it's random? Or if we're not where we expect to be in a few hours or something."

Eijirou shrugs. "It's always a gamble, but that's where the fun is, no?"

You look down at the thing with a sigh. You suppose.

In one quick move, you twist the gem and screw your eyes shut. At first, you feel nothing, but then there's a sudden head rush, and you can easily see how someone can get addicted to this.

You hear a faint sound, one that could be excused as a rush of wind past your ears, before you feel your knees against a hard surface and your body in a different position.

"Oh, I like this much better."

You open to your eyes to a much different sight than you closed them to.

Katsuki and Eijirou look gargantuan when you’re on your knees, your back flush against the refrigerator and eyes watering due to the cock nestled halfway down your throat. You choke in surprise from the sensation, hands rushing to keep Katsuki from cutting your oxygen supply off for good as Eijirou stands impatient, cock hard in his hand and drooling for attention.

"F-Fuck," the ash-blond wheezes, seemingly just as taken aback from the position as you are. "Your mouth is fuckin' heaven."

"C'mon Sweetheart, don't ignore me now," EIjirou purrs, chuckling as the head of his cock hits your cheek with a wet slap. "At least give me a little something."

You grab his cock harder than you would've out of slight indignance, grinning around the other when it makes him hiss; Eijirou joins Katsuki in resting a hand on the fridge door for purchase.

You weren't the best at Vice City for nothing, after all.

"Shit, loosen that grip a little, will ya?" Eijirou wheezes—you don't listen, and his chest shudders when you seem to only move faster.

"'M too fuckin' close, where's that ring," Katsuki blabbers more than he grunts, and you lift your hand just in time for him to twist the jewel again, sending you three rocketing into the past.

You cough and splutter atop the kitchen island, chest heaving as you finally get the air Katsuki's cock allows. The head rush definitely doesn't help, and you find yourself getting dizzy enough to grab for someone's hand.

"Breathe, Princess," Katsuki says, and Eijirou lifts your hand to his chest so yours can rise and fall with his.

"So that's," you wheeze once you're able to get some semblance of a breath back. "That's time travel sex, huh?"

"Yeah," Eijirou says, a little breathless himself. "Addictive, right?"

"A little," you giggle, and find yourself looking for the ring again. Katsuki snorts.

"What, you wanna go back or somethin'?"

You flush red, eyes darting to the walls guilty, "A little bi—wah!"

There's a rush and the room morphs again. You would’ve fallen headfirst into a set of white sheets if it weren’t for the fact that you’re sat on Eijirou’s face.

"Hello beautiful~" the redhead singsongs from below, and you can't help but notice your bra is MIA as Katsuki takes a seat behind

you to run his hands up your sides to put the underside of your breasts.

"Pervert," you snort, though you figure you’re just as bad as he is with two of Eijirou's fingers deep in your pussy and Katsuki's hand on your clit. The redhead's leaving hickey after hickey on your inner thighs and you just try your damnest to not fall.

"Only for you," Eijirou winks cheekily, scissoring his fingers, and your hips stutter against his face when he slides his tongue in between.

"Fuckin' love the sounds you make," Katsuki grunts, before his other hand finds your neck and tightens. "And fuck you're so goddamn wet—you love this, don't you?"

You keen with a nod (and suppress the urge to say no shit, Sherlock), and Katsuki's pinching your clit between his two fingers, licking a fat stripe up your neck and chuckling when you shiver.

"What, your clients don't make you feel this good, Sweetheart?" Eijirou practically moans into your cunt, eyebrows folding when you thread your fingers through his hair and yank. "Bet that fifty was worth it, wasn't it?"

"Y-Yeah I—" you whimper, unable to get a sentence past your shuddering chest. "Guys, I'm gonna—"

The bedroom melts back into the kitchen, you're back in Eijirou’s jacket and not sat on his face. Your thighs and neck are hickey-less and yet, you're still so fucking horny.

"I hate you," you seethe, almost immediately, and Eijirou's grin is so wide it bends his eyes.

"Awe, you love me," he giggles and your frown only deepens as you reach for the ring—Katsuki snatches it out of arms way with a tut.

"Ah ah Princess, don't be greedy now," he purrs, but you couldn't give a shit about being greedy, and it shows in the way you quickly grab for it again. Katsuki passes the ring to Eijirou and it easily becomes a game of monkey in the middle.

"Give it—"

"I don't think so, Sweetheart," Eijirou says, pressing a big hand to your face to keep you from going any further. With a smirk, the redhead twists the ring, and suddenly you're full of him on the kitchen counter.

"Fuck baby, you're so tight," he curses behind grit teeth, sweat practically dripping off his shoulders in rivulets as he pushes your face into the kitchen island so hard it's numb. So are your knees. "You're so pretty like this—shit—"

You barely have the room to whimper, let alone answer, and you find Katsuki perched on the opposite counter, weeping cock in hand. The redhead chuckles as you struggle to take all of him, hips squirming as he aims for places you've never been able to hit on your own. "I'd stick your tongue back in your mouth if I were you, Sweetheart. The money’s a little dirty, don't you think?"

And that's when you realize your knees are elevated upon two stacks of green, possibly some of what Katsuki had been counting earlier, and a twenty swims in a pool of drool under your cheek.

"Oh, but I don't think you care," Eijirou grunts, shoving your face deeper into the marble countertop as his hips speed up. "Dirty fuckin' girl. Bet you'd do anything for a fifty."

"I wanna fuck her," Katsuki rushes as if his mouth moves before he can speak. Eijirou wheezes a laugh.

"What, I can't enjoy this?"

"No,” the ash-blond grunts.

"Hmm..." Eijirou debates, though his hips never stop as he gives Katsuki a look and goes, "How about no?"

Katsuki growls at that, and you find your fingers clumsily twisting the ruby on the ring that sits on Eijirou's finger, sending the three of you flinging further into the future.

"Fuck!"

"This isn't the future I was referring to, but I'm not complainin'," Katsuki grunts with a feral grin. You nearly slip due to all the water in the shower and you're positive that you see the sunrise through the window paint Eijirou's skin gold.

"I gotcha, Sweetheart," Eijirou soothes, rubbing a hand up and down your arms while your nails dig into his shoulders, the red lines jagged from how roughly Katsuki fucks you from behind. "Fuck—you're doing so good for us, taking him so well."

You whimper and Katsuki lands a heavy slap on your ass—heavy to the point where you nearly knocks both you and the redhead into the tile behind him. Eijirou's calloused hands find your clit fairly easily, and that's enough to almost send you over the edge, pussy fluttering around Katsuki's cock.

"She's gonna cum," Katsuki grunts. "Can fuckin' feel it."

"Uh oh," the redhead singsongs, turning to you with a grin. "Were you trying to be slick, Sweetheart?”

Though it's difficult, you lift your head, eyes swimming in unshed tears as you choke, "I—n-no, it's jus—"

You're in the bedroom again—this time your back comes in contact with a dresser, metal rattling from the weight Eijirou slams you into it with. The redhead supports you both with two feet planted into the floor and a hand around your waist, grunting into your ear with an exhaustion that implies you've got to be at this for hours.

"Ei-Eiji—"

"I know, Sweetheart," the redhead coos breathlessly, licking up the sweat that runs down your neck. "Just a few more times, okay? Hold on for just a little longer."

You sob, head thunking against the wall as you realize you have no idea where Katsuki is. Though it's only a fleeting thought because before you know it, Eijirou's dropping you to your feet, bending you in half, and railing you into the wall.

"Goddamn," he grunts, sharp teeth digging into his bottom lip, "this is—this is the best lay I've had in a fat second."

You pant a laugh, hands pressing into the wall to steady yourself, "Good—good to know the fifty bucks was worth it."

"Oh baby, it was more than worth it," Eijirou hikes your leg up as high as it'll go for a deeper angle and he gets it, his growl melting into a semi-chuckle as you squeal, thighs jumping.

"Fuck Ei!" You scream, and he's tugging your hair to straighten your back out.

"You like it rough, Sweetheart?" He pants into your ear, grabbing your neck for a better grip. You nod as much as you can.

"Y-Yeah—I—" Eijirou drops you until you're stood at a perfect 90-degree angle, "I need—need'ta cum, p-please—"

"Twist the ring, Sweetheart," He pants, resting his hand on the wall next to yours. It still glints gold on his fourth finger in the moonlight, "Get us there together, yeah?"

You don't have to be told twice.

"Mph!"

"Fuck!”

Your knees dig into a mattress again as Katsuki fills your mouth. With his cock down your throat and Eijirou's buried deep in your cunt, there isn't much you can do but take both of them at the same time—though you're positive that's what they intended.

"Shit, me too." Eijirou wheezes a chuckle as his hips piston into you, his sweaty chest sticking to your back while he reaches between your thighs to rub your clit. That’s enough to send you flailing over the edge, moan muffled by Katsuki’s slowly softening cock. Then, with a devilish grin (and before the redhead can cum) Katsuki reaches for the ring on Eijirou’s finger and twists it.

“You asshole,” Eijirou groans, and suddenly you three are back in the shower, with Katsuki’s hips battering into yours as the redhead supports your weight from below. Katsuki chuckles before his grip tightens and he’s filling you with another load.

“C’mon Princess,” Katsuki grunts, reaching for your clit. “Come for us again.”

You choke again before you’re digging your head into Eijirou’s muscled chest with a moan, shaking from the aftershocks Katsuki continues to fuck you through them.

Until the room morphs, and you’re face down on the kitchen counter.

“Fucking finally,” Eijirou wheezes with a bitter chuckle, casually flipping Katsuki the middle finger as he's sat on the opposing counter. “Fuck, you're shaking baby, you gonna cum with me? Yeah?“

Eijirou batters into your cervix and that's the catalyst for your third orgasm. You squeeze so tight you think you may have knocked the wind out of the redhead when his chest crashes into your back, and you open your eyes just in time to see the kitchen melt into the bedroom again—in a time you all have yet to visit.

Your legs are thrown over Katsuki’s shoulders as he pushes your back deeper into Eijirou’s chest, both of their cocks filling you so much and so well it brings tears to your eyes. As your thighs quiver with an impending orgasm, Katsuki’s the first to fall off the edge, eyebrows furrowing as his nails dig into the meat of your thighs.

“Oh fuck,” he groans, voice fucked hoarse and lips bit pink. Eijirou nibbles into your shoulder with a gasp as his sweaty hand finds your clit again, neither of their hips ever stopping.

“Cum for us one more time, Sweetheart,” he pants into your neck before adding another hickey to the collection. Your chest shudders.

“I—I can’t—“

“Oh yes you fuckin’ can,” Katsuki growls, and you squeal as he tweaks a nipple. “I know you got one more in there. Give it.”

Your legs kick against his chest with a curse as you orgasm for the final time—this one much wetter than the last.

“Holy shit,” Eijirou nearly laughs, looking at where the three of you are connected. “Did you just squirt?”

“I—“ your face blends red when you see the absolute and utter mess that sits in Katsuki’s lap, before looking away with a determination to never see it again. “...Maybe.”

“Clean up?” Eijirou asks, eyes flickering to the ash-blond. Katsuki shrugs.

“Nah.”

A rush of wind and you’re sat on the kitchen counter. Eijirou’s jacket protects you from getting goosebumps due to a drop in temperature and though you do shiver, you find your body much more unscathed than it was.

“Hi,” Eijirou chuckles a little breathlessly.

“Hi,” you giggle back, a little nervous but in the best way. “So um...we do all of that tonight?”

“I guess so,” the redhead says a bit cheekily, raising an eyebrow. And then, with a wink, “Probably more.”

You stare at the ring on his hand in awe. Whoa.

"I fuck—fine, we can keep her, Shitty Hair," Katsuki grumbles from his spot near the kitchen sink, and despite the sour look on his face, you can't find a hint of it in his voice. Figures.

"Told you he'd say yes," Eijirou beams with a thumbs up.

"Can we...go do that stuff now?" You ask, albeit a bit hesitantly because...well, usually people are asking to have sex with you. Is this how they feel?

"Of course we can, Sweetheart," the redhead beams, before taking the ring off to place it onto the counter. "It was all a part of the future, after all."

#— 𝐊𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐈 #— 𝐄𝐈𝐉𝐈𝐑𝐎𝐔 #bnha smut #mha smut #bakugou smut #kirishima smut #tw.blood #tw.guns

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messwriting · 4 years ago

Text

Written for The Smut Pile Collab: Western AU | MASTERLIST HERE.

(my saddle’s waiting) ride it

Iwaizumi “Big Guns” Hajime x Female Reader

Rating: E for explicit | Don’t read this if under eighteen.

Warnings: Being ridiculous in front of your crush. Porn With Plot. Not researched strippers industry. Lowkey exhibitionism. Oral in a public space (bathroom); Cock-blocked Interrupted orgasms; Masturbation/fingering; Fingering in public (street), then while driving. Driving while fingering? Unsafe driving. Fucking against a door, then a wall. Alcohol and mentions of drugs. Side Tendou/Oikawa. Bit of a teasing, overconfident Iwachan. A poor excuse of oblivious colleagues to lovers.

Word count: WAY TOO BIG. +11k.

Note: 🤠 Brought by your wicked duo degenerates, Saint Dymphna and me: LAWBREAKERS MULTIVERSE 🤠 electric bogaloo

You guys know the drill @dymphnasprose started this all with their tempting ways! It was the image of Iwaizumi all oiled up, working in his garage like Channing Tatum that made me cave and do this. Once again, being with Dymph is nothing short of amazing and I LOVE THEM 🥺💕💕

This is wayyyy too ploty for something where I just wanted people to bang, but you guys know how I get with Iwaizumi. I’m not totally happy about how this turned out but honestly I have no time to work on it and it has to be out. You guys will realize I went full myself with Reader’s crush on Iwaizumi in this. Sorry not sorry.

Biiig, huuuuuge thanks to both @vanille--kiss and @oneblonded for their help in beta-ing this, you guys are incredible. 💕 As always a big thanks to @mixedhell who always helps me when I’m troubled <3

Iwa’s song: Pony (of course)

You can also read: MAKKI | MATTSUN

You check your phone and realize you’re late… again.

You hate, hate, hate morning classes, but if you want to be in time for your internship and still have time to study and, well, live, you’re obligated to accept the first class of the day on a Friday. You hate it, and you hate it even more that it’s how you have to end your week but you’ve made peace with it.

That doesn’t mean you can actually get there in time, reason why you’re twenty minutes late running with your keys and coffee in one hand while you try to balance both your books and your backpack with the other. And when you push the door with your hip, it makes a loud squeaking noise while opening, ruining both your quiet entry and bringing everyone’s eyes on you, of course, because when have you ever been granted a fucking break, right?

“Sorry!” You murmur while trying your best into making a curt bend, and your professor looks over his glasses to you in a very pointed manner but other than that he resumes what he was speaking on before.

You know he hates you being late (especially as a repeat offender) but you’re a fairly participative student and you regularly earn one of his top grades, so you think that buys you some slack -- and leverage. You go to your habitual seat by the wall, and try your best not making any other noises while you set everything in their places and, thankfully, a moment later, you’re able to breathe while in your seat, with your open computer and notes ready. You give yourself about twenty seconds to drink a bit of your coffee and check out where in the topic the professor is lecturing about.

“That’s why Iwaizumi-san will be receiving your papers. I’ll be returning to the next week, and in the time being, he’ll be doing the full TA hours. If you have any questions just ask him and remember to schedule appointments before-hand, if possible.” Your professor states something that makes it clear you lost some important announcement at the beginning of the class and your eyes fly to Iwaizumi in response, but the man is just sitting at his normal place, front class, quietly nodding to the professors’ explanation while his big hands fly over his notepad.

You sigh, wistfully, and take another sip of your coffee while your eyes thread over his form, clad in loose jeans that still seem tight in those amazing thighs of his and a hoodie that doesn’t do much to hide those incredible arms. Iwaizumi isn’t very tall, but he’s still taller than you and his shoulders are broad enough to engulf anything behind him when you stand too close. God, you wished Iwaizumi would do full TA hours on you anytime. He could work you into overtime too, you certainly don’t mind.

You gulp down the saliva that overflows your mouth with some coffee and leaves another small breath to accompany your thoughts.

You snicker just a bit and Iwaizumi’s eyes are suddenly on yours and your blood pressure peaks in a second while you choke on your coffee. Your teacher asks if you’re okay and you are obligated to answer yes while trying to shrink into the chair.

See. Incredible track-record.

You manage to not make a complete clown of yourself during class again and even win over some praise from your professor for your contributions in the debate about ethical issues and patient safety. It’s usual that you and Iwaizumi end up interacting with each other’s input in debates but he was quiet today and when you’ve made an addition to his comment about unhelpful patients and mandatory rest all he did was nod and roll his jaw. As if you know what the fuck that means.

You chalk it up to him stressing over being in full TA hours for the week and when the class ends you stay in your seat while finishing typing some notes before you blink and they’re suddenly lost in your brain. When you look up and start packing your things you realize there’s only you and Iwaizumi left in the class and notice he’s looking directly at you, almost as if he was waiting for it.

You don’t think there’s another man who can look so dashing before ten am and with just a small corner lip smile, but hey, you’re not complaining.

“Hey,” he says a one-word greeting and holds his hand up and your heart leaps before you can manage to send a smile his way. Ah, it’s really unfair how cute he is.

“Hey Iwa,” you greet back in a fair tone even if you feel a bit hot in the face, “You were unusually quiet today.”

He smirks and his hand clasps his neck for a moment while he scratches his hair. “Aa, just busy.” He hooks his backpack over his shoulder and walks over to you while you’re still packing your books. “You lost the warning, right?”

“Yeah, late. Something important?”

“Nothing big. It’s the deadline for the midterm article, which you lost the explanation to but here--” He extends you his open notepad and you see the notes and instructions there, scribbled in block letters not very neatly, but fairly organized. You look it over briefly, confirm that is nothing different from the normal and bring your phone to take a picture.

“Thanks, Iwa. Do you need any help with the TA hours?”

“Nah. It’s all fine. I organized my internship last month to have this week off.”

“Oh, smart,” you say as you swing your backpack over your shoulder and pick up your purse and the single book that couldn’t fit with your laptop in it. Iwaizumi makes you nervous. You’re fairly sure it’s because of the massive fucking crush you have on him. “Well, let me know if you need help.”

“Thanks,” you notice that he stays there looking at you for a second more... And then a few seconds more.

“Is everything okay?

“You’ve been getting to class late a lot,” his eyes turn wide when he realizes what he just blurted out and the small pink dust atop his cheeks could be the thing that ends up killing you. Your brain gets lost in a chant of CUTECUTECUTE and for a moment you resist the urge to clench your books to your chest. “The professor asked me to see if everything was okay.”

“Oh, ah…” You actually force a bit of laugh out at that, surprised and a bit breathless. Dammit, you monitor two classes and then suddenly being a little bit late becomes a crime. “It’s nothing, actually. I’m just not a morning person. And I hate early classes, but I needed to get this one because of my internship, so I’m struggling with the time.”

Iwaizumi nods and even gives you a short smile while you two start walking alongside one another out of the class. “Ah, you should really fix your sleep schedule. You know the drill, eight hours every night.”

“You mean that impossible thing?” You laugh and thank him when he opens the door for you two to pass. Hot and a gentleman, God really has favorites. “I’m trying, but it’s easier said than done and I’m something of a night owl.”

“Brat. You’re just on your phone until late,” Iwaizumi snickers and you all but gasp, and before you can say anything he’s signaling to the other side you’re going. “I still have classes, see you on the TA hours?”

“Yeah, I have two days of TA next week,” you manage to squeak out without making a fool of yourself after he calls you a brat and even smiles his way despite the way you feel a sudden heat wave over your body.

“Nice. See you then.”

“Bye Iwa.”

You scurry off the other side and when you turn a corner you stop and do something absolutely ridiculous that is an internal scream with your head against the wall. You press your forehead against the cold tile and breathe about two or three times, all while your mind goes into overheat after a small talk with Iwaizumi Hajime, the hottest, most amazing Teacher Assistant this Physical Therapy course must have ever had.

You hear someone saying your name while you try to recover and when you look to your side your heart sinks to your stomach as your eyes turn into plates. Hajime is looking at you funny, holding out a small paper to you and probably wondering if you’re okay in the head. Of course it’s him. It wouldn’t be you if this didn’t happen.

“Ahhh, hi again?” You squeeze out in a weird breathless voice and Iwaizumi’s eyes seem to turn a pretty dark shade while his lips spread in a grin.

“You let this fall.”

Sure, of course, you dumbass did.

“Are you okay?”

“Thanks, Iwa. I was uhhh just…” You press your lips because your mind is blank and then God decides to cut you some slack with a momentaneous brilliance. “I forgot an important thing was due tonight and yeah, I was just screaming at myself.”

“Anything I can help with?”

Yes. Marry me. Or just fucking, you’re not picky.

Your whole face burns and you lower your eyes for a moment because the images assaulting you are just too much. Iwaizumi looks just so good up close, all sharp jawline and hard planes on that spiky jet-black hair and green eyes. Jesus Christ, looking like that should be illegal.

“No, it’s just something for this bachelorette party I have tonight.” God decides to grace you with some more lying skills and you thank them internally. There’s even a smile on your face.

Iwaizumi nods away with your explanation.

“Ohh,” He says with a smirk and your heart does a leap. “That’s nice. Give the bride my congrats.”

“Thanks. I’ll tell her.” Then, he extends the paper again and you finally grab it, once again making a fool of yourself to him. “Sorry, thanks for this.”

Iwaizumi just nods and smiles your way, quickly turning back and leaving after saying goodbye and waving your way. This time you have half a mind to search a bathroom before screaming for real.

Honestly, you cannot believe where you are right now. Lawbreakers. The name is written in a pretty calligraphy font in bright fucking neon that simply demands attention in the dark of night. It’s the final stop of the bachelorette party of your good friend to which you are late. From the group text, everyone is at least nicely buzzed and you’ve been laughing with the ridiculous pictures the group of women have been sending you non-stop while calling you a buzzkill.

As your car pulls into the front of the place, you just can’t help but snort. It’s cheesy, definitely tacky but nice, a use of the western theme that actually plays well.

Outside there’s a neon cowboy riding a horse and you just… can’t help but be amused. There’s a small line of women waiting even when it’s already late but you walk up front as your friend had told you too, perks of being a member of the VIP entourage of women partying in the allegedly last night for your friend to be free.

The doorman lets you in quickly and just as you’re passing the threshold a tall, pretty and lean, but built man clad in nothing but a white outfit rolls to your side, offering a flute of sparkling wine from a tray.

“Well, look at that.” The smile he sends you is trained, but charming and you can’t help but smile back. “We truly do have the prettier customers. Can I offer you some champagne? Maybe something stronger?”

You’re just bringing your hand up to say no when you stop, muse about how much catching up you’ll have to do with your friends inside and shrugs. “Well, better get a head start, right?”

“Yes!” He congratulates you, standing too close as he brings you a flute and deposits on your fingers, his hand trailing on your pulse for a moment before he lets go. Then, he throws you another charming smile, the mischief reaching his eyes this time. “That’s a good girl~”

You try to hide the way his charm works by letting your mouth fall in a small laugh, but something tells you he catches that either way. That, you think, is what you call a seasoned pleaser.

“Thank you.”

Your cheeks are heating the tiny bit as you scurry off the corridor to the club insides, following the loud music and increasingly louder screams.

“Enjoy the show!” The man chuckles behind you and you raise your glass in acknowledgment, hurrying inside to do just that.

Honestly, it’s not what you were expecting.

As you pass the wooden saloon doors at the end of the corridor, the sound of screaming surrounds you as physical waves, washing through your body in such a high pitch you stumble in your heels. The energy inside makes you unable to not enjoy yourself automatically, surrounded by tables of women and a few groups of men all completely enthralled on the show that’s already happening inside.

For starters, western decoration aside, you were definitely not expecting to see your friend, the bride-to-be, being grinded on stage.

The strawberry-blonde male is thrusting against the center of your friend's legs, precise and exciting wave-like motions that clearly are making everyone inside, your friend included, lose their minds. He grinds and holds himself up, moves your friend around as if she’s a doll and humps her behind. It looks so sinful and still in perfect beat with the song and for a second your mind just-- short circuits, hand shooting to your mouth as the laughs tip over loud and hearty. Your friend is burning in embarrassment at the way the man is moving and grinding on her, hands almost locked on her body as if she thinks she can’t move or something will just blow up.

Then again maybe she’s the one who’ll blow up, being so close to such a fucking hot man. You can definitely see how that would make her blow a fuse, completely not used to this kind of thing.

You manage to stop laughing at your friend losing it on stage and quickly spot the table, the balloons that have been featured in lots of pictures making themselves seen: bright teal things stating “one dick forever”. Every single one dressed in black and with their current bright plastic cowboy hat. It could be worse; if the place wasn’t so fitting with it’s bright lights and mixed decorations ranging from cowboy neon signs and saddles in place of stools.

By the time you manage to walk over amidst the screaming and join in on the girls fun, the showman has finally let your friend go in prol of fishing another happy bride and she looks every bit completely shaken as you’ve thought.

“Hey, baby, you good?” The slit in her white dress is higher, clearly a side effect of the way the man hiked her legs just so…open, and you chuckle at how she huffs a breath out and let herself fall against the cushions, both parts pent up and mortified.

Well, you’re already liking the place.

Then, one of the other bridesmaids presses a full plastic flute of champagne to your hand, calls everyone up to a toast and you let yourself fall back into the festivities. Your friend seems to be having a hard time coming back from the heated grinding session in the middle show, to which she excuses herself from the table and reassures everyone that she’s fine. Still, you pull her on the side, ask her once again if she’s okay, to which she just explains she needs some air.

God, you understand.

You were about to follow her when another bridesmaid pulled you into a hug, happily chatting about how this place was incredible, and trying to fill you in on the fun you missed by being late. Your eyes accompany your friend for a moment, seeing as she walks a bit clumsy but otherwise fine to the corridor that leads to the bathroom. Well, she would be fine.

The current show ends and the lights glow brighter, finally allowing you to check out the place. The Lawbreakers Club is nice and full; filled to the brim with groups of women and men around and apparently yours is not the only bachelorette party taking place in the western-themed strip bar. The waiters are wearing skimpy little clothing, the place decorated as a cross-theme of magic mike and an imitation of a western saloon.

Then, before you can even finish the current drink you have in your hands, the lights go down once again while the stage is lightened up in bright neon. You’re all close enough and with an amazing stage view to catch when a very tall, very pretty, brunette who welcomed you earlier comes to the middle of the stage.

The crowd goes immediately wild as the song is lowered to a simple mumble in the background and the man walks slowly to the center stage, open hands and the devastating smile of someone who knows they’re all that and more.

Bit obnoxious but hey, there’s a literal horde of women screaming for him. You’d say it’s acceptable.

“Well, well, well, look like we have a full house tonight.”

The screaming reignites, sounding even louder since they also come from your own table and you can’t help but laugh.

“Are you guys ready for the next show?” The crowd screams a resonant yes. “Good. Let us make a lot of noise for two of our best, biggest outlaws around.” As the cheers erupted once again, you can actually hear some names being called, all revolving around names with big, pretty or animals thrown around.

“Did someone actually scream for Issei Horsecock?” You ask the bridesmaid closer to you and both of you laugh when she says yes. “Oh, wow.”

“Yes, yes, you know the ones. Now, let’s make our Big Guns flustered with the warm welcome, you know what a big softie he actually is under all that hard, big, brute exterior.” It’s actually enthralling to see Oikawa dealing with the crowd, you can’t help but laugh away at his faces and double meaning. Then he stops, winks at the crowd and goes, “Maybe he just needs a ride. So, ride it, ponies.”

It’s clear the announcement everyone was waiting for, as the crowd loses right there. The lights are once again focused on the stage, dripping low as the music picks up in a sexy beat as two big, broad and athletic men make their ways to the center stage, Oikawa nowhere to be seen anymore.

You cannot believe your eyes. You blink them once but then become completely unable to tear your vision from the image unfolding in front of you even for a second. The men comes to the front of the stage, holds onto the pole dance and undulates in a sinful, unholy trusting motion that has your mouth watering and he falls backwards with his hand supporting himself as his legs part on the metal pole and he keeps trusting in time with the bass, a honest-to-god mimic of sex that has you swalowing dry and drooling, your body heating up at the simple images that ellicit in your brain.

He does a twirl in the air, falls in a plank and holds a hand up to hold his cowboy hat all while supporting his body in only one hand. He undulates in thrust motions, twerk his ass in the air before pressing down and takes his hat off his head as a display of strength you never in your mind thought would get you this bothered.

His jet black hair is short and spiky, mussed by sweat and you immediately licks your lips at the salacious thought of licking it up from his skin. He falls with his back on the floor, start once again to proove just how fucking incredible it would be to ride him and then gets up in one single jump that knocks the air of your lungs.

You take in all of him as the light catches on his perfect body, wearing nothing more than an open black leather vest with beaten dark jeans and a big, daunting belt buckle and the cowboy hat in his hand.

And you feel as you have a out of body experience as his face registers in your mind, that mischievous smirk gracing his lips making your whole brain crash into a halt because you recognize that man as no one other than Iwaizumi Hajime, your long-time crush and Teacher Assistant with whom you were just earlier today.

Your eyes are unable to look anywhere but him, completely enthralled by the simplest realization that that single amazing piece of man is actually your long time crush, kind-of-friend and colleague. It feels unreal, impossible, to wrap your head around that piece of information and you’re rendered speechless, mind-blown and enchanted, eyes locked on his glistening muscles, the spanse of his skin on show growing by the minute as he does movements straight out of a wet dream.

Yours, to be even more specific.

It’s clear he doesn’t see you with the dimly lit room and the crew of women chanting. You’re sitting dumbfounded, mouth agape and blood reeling enough that your forehead seems like it will explode, but also feeling as if you’re suspended in a haze - as if Iwaizumi’s body undulating on the air as he holds himself on a pole is something of a spell and you’re definitely sucked in by it.

You can pinpoint the exact moment he sees you, as his show’s ending and the lights around the stage start shining once again. It’s painfully clear how Iwaizumi tenses from the realization, his eyes falling wide and curses tipping from his beautiful lips, the top of his cheekbones lighting up as he all but runs from the front of the crowd and in a moment you’re mirroring his embarrassment, face heating at the bizarre situation you’re finding yourself into.

Your TA is a stripper. And a very good, famous one at that.

What exactly are you supposed to do with this information?

It’s almost an hour and about three shows later where you’re filling your head pounding by the beat, unable to relax even as delicious men pass through your table and play with your friends.

You feel tense, paranoid at what exactly has happened and where Iwaizumi may be, stomach turning and unresponsive as you try to sooth it with booze until you give up, rising on unsteady legs. Muscles strained from how long you’ve been sitting still, afraid to look anywhere and be slapped across the room with some other shocking news.

You take a deep breath as you balance yourself once again on your heels and walk to the bathroom for some needed cool-down, latching on the opportunity when another show is already rolling, a hot but unapproachable-looking man with blond hair and streaks on it owning the stage as if it’s his territory.

As you’re turning on the corridor, however, you’re circled by big arms and yanked from the ground, a yelp turning into silence as you take one look around and find dark green eyes boring into yours, a harsh look on Iwaizumi’s face that make you embarrassed at what it does to your guts.

He scurries off with you inside a place that looks like a private room, fairly dark with red lights around and a ominous pole-dance stage in the middle that makes your mind overheat at the images it summons: the man in front of you clad in nothing but a black jeans rolling his hips up into the air as if daring you to take a ride.

Well, shit.

Iwaizumi’s arms leave your sides and you stumble a bit, eyes diverting down as your face burns. You realize he takes that the wrong way when he sounds gruff and pissed.

“What? Can’t even look at me now?”

You look up in time to catch his arms crossing around his front. You wish he didn’t do that, as now you have one of the hottest men you’ve ever seen all angry-looking with bulging arms oiled and shining, clad in nothing but removable pants, leather chaps, vest and a black cowboy hat.

You groan something unintelligible as you lose the ability to speak and Iwaizumi’s expression turns sour, lips pressed so hard it almost seems like he’s pouting, his hard eyes looking anxious and downcast.

That’s what helps your brain kickstart, completely unable to see Iwaizumi looking remotely sad and acutely aware of how this must be taxing on him.

“Sorry, I-- It’s not you,” You wince as his eyes center on you, unimpressed, “I mean it! It’s just-- I was caught off guard.”

Iwaizumi makes a humming noise and centers his eyes on you as if he’s waiting for you to keep going but your brain is completely blank, staring at him with wide eyes and burning surprise. You have to make a serious effort to avoid letting your eyes wander his frame.

“So,” you start, unable to handle the silence and Iwaizumi groans, pulling his cowboy hat off to thread fingers over his hair in a nervous display that you’re sure he did not mean to be sexy but ends up being anyway. “I’m not sure what to say here.”

“Shit. What are you even doing here?”

“Bachelorette party,” you answer without missing a beat and he all but groans again, as if just remembering is an actual thing that exists- and probably gives him lots of money if tonight was anything to go by.

The clear display of his anxiety actually helps you get a bit more at ease, and you can’t help but crackle an awkward smile. “So... you work here.”

“Yes,” Hajime brutal honesty shows he’s regaining his composure. “It’s good money if you work well and the hours are flexible.”

Not the only thing that’s flexible. You bite your lips at the thought to stop the words from actually spilling from your lips.

“I take it you're not public about this?”

“As little as I can considering the pictures and social media. The club is kinda famous, too.”

“I noticed.”

The silence stretches for a moment as Iwaizumi looks around nervously, his stance unmoving. You take a deep breath and sigh, lips falling in an odd, astonished smile. “Wow, Iwa, that’s…”

“What?” He bites back, defensive. You just end up chuckling, long breath falling from your lips as you look at him and can’t help but be once again dumbfolded at how fucking perfect this man is.

“Nothing, it’s just-- I would never expect it. It’s amazing, though. You’re amazing.” You wince at your own words and how telling they are, but carry on despite the burning on your face. “You seemed like a completely different person out there.”

Definitely not the quiet TA you’re used to. Definitely still completely gorgeous.

Your body tenses as your heart does somersaults in your chest, hunger flaring enough that your throat constricts and your face burns once again.

“Don’t you think it's bad?” It comes out a bit strained, his eyes trained on you, tense and vulnerable. And you just about fall deeper for him right there.

“Why? It’s your work.” You try your best smile, and after a little consideration Hajime’s shoulders finally seem to relax, lips jutting up just a bit as he breathes deep.

“No one in the university can know though,” Iwaizumi says quickly, eyes on yours with a little, tiny smirk. “Obvious reasons.”

That makes you giggle.

“Of course. I’ll keep your secret.” You agree in earnest, honest and clear, and this time when you smile at him, your whole body warms at how his eyes fall down to look at it.

“Good.” His voice goes down a tone, husky and gruff- and making unspeakable things to your already poor state. “Did you enjoy the show?”

Your heart seems to shoot up to your throat, and you try to squeeze words out around it.

“I… uh… yes, I mean, sure. It was… quite incredible.”

“Really.” Hajime smirks and you try to swallow your heart before you choke.

His green eyes stare deeply at your face, drinking the burning on your cheeks, the quick beat of your pulse on your throat, the pursed, wet lips and the way you tremble when he all but takes a step closer. You brace yourself, eyes lifting from the ground to center on him and the sticky, hot sensation spreads through your lower limbs at the burning heat you find there.

“Well, there’s another one to be done.” That tone comes again and you’re forced to press your legs just a tiny bit closer, suddenly aware of the fact you’re both alone in a dark room. He takes another step closer and your eyes fall on his lips, smirk starting to split his face in two, “Stick around.”

Your mouth opens, but nothing comes out and Hajime’s eyes turn darker.

"Iwa-channn~''

It's so close it sounds loud from across the half-opened door and Iwaizumi seems to fall back on himself, annoyance furrowing his brows. He takes another deep, heated look on you but tears his eyes away before you can’t say anything.

“Sorry, have to go.”

Your breath leaves you in one go. It feels like you just stepped off a rollercoaster, blown off the ground and slow to catch up.

“Okay, uh, good show?”

“It will be,” Hajime’s eyes are warm on you. Meaningful. “Watch it all, okay?”

And then he leaves, the brightness from the corridor snapping you from your haze as you suck all the oxygen left in the room and then screams silently against your hands.

Iwaizumi feels nervous for the first time since the first time he stepped on stage, about two years ago. It feels like he has something to prove and conquer in this single performance and it doesn’t help that Makki comes running late, smelling of sex and sporting marks that tell just of that, too. But for once Hajime decides he has his own stuff to worry rather than the shit his friends pull.

When they step on stage, his eyes zoom-in on you immediately, something spreading on his skin as he finds your attention centered on him - bulging, enthralled eyes and warm appreciation.

Hajime smirks. They haven’t even started yet.

On cue, Mattsun, Makki, Oikawa and Kyoutani slide on their position and Iwaizumi is delighted that your eyes remain on him.

When the show starts, among screamings and money being waved, he follows the steps nicely, out of habit. Iwaizumi tilts his hat at you and you burn so bright he feels his skin heating at the newfound power.

His vest is the first to go off and he makes sure to have his hands running around his chest more than once, teasing slide until the leather chaps as he thrusts his hips, waving motion that covers his whole body.

He circles, back muscles in the spotlight as his hands come up behind his head, holding the cowboy hat snug in his head, ass tight in the black briefs as he keeps the motions and then turns to fall down on a plank. Iwaizumi grinds down on the floor, blinks and smiles at the ladies but his eyes are only searching for you.

He gets up with an elaborate move and puts both his hands on the pole, holding himself up sideways before circling it, dropping and incorporating some break dance Kyoutani teached him.

Hajime’s hand slid easily with the oil on his skin, slowly planting his thumb under the loops of his leather chaps to the sound of screaming. He feels electricity edge through his skin -- someone’s eyes focused solely on him and the thrill of it it’s nothing he’s ever felt before. Suddenly he understands a bit more about how Oikawa feels with Tendou around.

Iwaizumi thrusts his hips forward once, snaps his belt off in the air with one pull, making the crowd gasp and scream and the itching on his skin turns south. He watches as your eyes follow the hard planes of his abs and the tight squeeze of his thighs on his leather chaps and then snap back into his face. The fact it’s you only makes it all the more exhilarating.

The choreo is once again on the floor, and he drops to it in a wave motion, hips humping on nothing without faltering, tight ass in the air winning cheers and waves; even so, it’s your silent appraisal that rings the louder.

He gets up again, circles the pole in a charming, teasing manner as he holds the metal bar and grinds on it. Iwaizumi lets his hat on the ground and turns his back to the public in time to snap his pants off in one go, at the same time as the other men on stage, staying in nothing but a ridiculously tight, dark, leather brief.

When he was first presented to the thing, he hated it and opted to go comando into some shows, which earned him some nice money and was always quite the surprise to the patrons. Now, as his eyes lock on yours and your wicked tongue peaks out to lick your plush lips in nothing but appreciation, Iwaizumi is rendered quite fond of the offending thing -- who’d thought this day would come.

Your eyes are glued to him and it almost hurts Iwaizumi that he can’t go straight to you, bring you on stage with him and glide your hands all over his body. He’s unsure of how to proceed but there’s no chance in hell he’s throwing this shot away.

He’s been crushing on you for far too long to do that.

In fact, the dumbfounded look on your eyes is quite endearing, much like all the fumbling and tripping over yourself that he got used to expect every time he sees you. Iwaizumi just assumed you were a bit clumsy and quiet, but then he got to know you and it all blew in his face.

You were a bit of a dumbass but also beautiful, kind, dedicated and attentive. The crush that started as a endearing feeling quickly escalated into opressing and Iwaizumi was all but rendered stupid around you at all times, firm believer that you never truly looked at him like that.

However, as you stare at him unblinking and eager, the picture of hunger in the most delicate predator, Iwaizumi realises he may be wrong and that thought alone is enough to ignite his veins.

Oikawa fishes a lady, pushes her on Kyoutani then does the same with another for Iwaizumi.

He smiles at her, professional, and brings her hands to his chest, his hips drawing circles against her. As her tentative strokes and fondling turn into frantic holds and clawing nails, his eyes can’t help but slide sideways, taking in the way you’re hanging out of every move of her hands.

Fuck, Iwaizumi can’t get hard. But there’s a clear throbbing threading south at your concentration. He can’t help but wonder if you’re imagining your hands on his body instead of hers; your hips against his as he grinds on hers; your mouth on his biceps when she kisses his trademarked asset, the ones that gave him his stripper name.

The woman slides several singles around his briefs, not without copping a few and your mouth falls open in an indignated breath. Iwaizumi tries hard to avoid it going to his dick.

He fishes for another woman in the audience as he lets the groups slide more singles not only on his briefs but inside his boots. Iwaizumi pulls one while she’s sitting in the chair, deposits it on the stage and grinds on her enough that the woman is overheated, hands faltering by her sides. Hajime’s eyes search yours once again, drinking, basking in the envy he pinpoints.

Does that mean you wish to be under him, like that? To feel his body against yours, his hips between your legs, his lower body shoved on your face?

Hajime ends his routine with this one halfway, unable to let them feel what you are doing to him and then - finally - he’s free to walk over to your table. Semi-naked, with his boots, hat and slow-rising hard-on.

He’s done this enough times to be able to keep up with the choreo while he’s navigating the tables, hips thrusting and circling, strangers hands sliding on his oiled body to deposit dollars anywhere they can. They’re mostly handsy, few grab his dick and scream, others palm at his thighs and chest. There’s both numbers and dollars being thrown on him but Iwaizumi is used to it - and that’s definitely not his focus tonight.

Iwaizumi stops for a moment at the table before yours. Joining in the fun as Oikawa is happily grinding on his roommate. It gives Hajime a chance to look your way, enough to find you completely enthralled by his body, wide eyes unwavering, mouth open in a breath as your hand fists the flute you’re holding, the perfect depiction of surprise and enchantment and fuck, Iwaizumi is thrilled.

When Hajime finally stops in front of you, you’re looking at him as if under a spell; mouth hanging softly as stars shine in your eyes and he can’t be faulted for fisting your hair, pulling you up to meet his chest, even if he’s careful with where he touches you.

Iwaizumi pretends his lips gliding against the shell of your ear is not a planned thing.

“You’re looking too hard. Are you enjoying the show that much?”

Your lips move without words falling from it and having you speechless all but set him on fire. Iwaizumi thanks every god (and begrudgingly Oikawa) for his expertise in what he’s about to do. His hand slides on your hips, feeling the way you sway with tremors and stop on your back to support you as he bends you backwards. His mouth skims the skin of your neck and dips lower, so his nose can cross over your cleavage, softly caressing the spanse of your collarbones.

“If you keep looking at me like that I’ll start thinking things, princess. Interesting things, physical things.” Iwaizumi lets his teeth close on the fabric covering your neckline as his eyes look up on yours to find every hint there can possibly be of your warm desire. “Seems like we’re reaching an agreement, too. Do like what you see, hm? Do you want me to do to you the same things I did with them?”

“No,” you tell him in a steady tone and Hajime’s eyes shoot up to yours, confused, until you sigh a breath against his face. “I want you to do more.”

He groans, pulling you tighter against his chest for you to feel the effect you have on him, choosing the momentum to circle his hips in what can be disguised as performance despite it being anything but.

“You can’t just tell a guy that. I may believe it.” His hands drop on your ass, gripping as he guides your hips to work with his and you all but melt, blown out eyes falling on his mouth.

“I’m hoping so. I’m pretty much using all my courage to tell you this.” Your breathless chuckle all but obliterates Hajime’s thinking and he has to put some distance between your faces before he takes your lips in a kiss.

There’s a ringing around his ears and he identifies it as the performance’s end approaching. He has to go back on stage to strip naked and his cock is going to give a show of his own tonight.

“Go wait for me in the corridor, quick.” It's a plea and a promise as he forces himself to let go of you and turn on his heels to get back on stage.

Oikawa gives him a hand up back onto the stage, eyes all knowing as they survey the whole big thing going on inside his briefs.

“Nasty, Iwachan~” His smile is a annoying little thing, but then he slaps Iwaizumi’s ass in encouragement, “Sneak off stage before the end, go, quick, I’ll cover.”

Iwaizumi grunts a thanks and as the boys line up one behind the other, he’s able to lock eyes with you and signal with his head before he dips through the backstage drapes.

You’re not sure what’s the plan when Hajime disappears through the back and your spine immediately shoots up, leaving your friends with a half-assed excuse as your legs carry you towards the corridor that leads to the backstage once you choose neither left or right, but only forward. Your eyes are focused, body overheating as your heart gallops in your chest, clinging to the words Iwaizumi whispered in your ears during his show as it repays again and again over your mind’s eye.

The door to the backstage is signaled with nothing, the only hint of its location being the in and out of men from it as their shows end and they leave the place to either mingle along the audience or enter a private room for privé little shows. Honestly, if it was for Hajime, you’d blow a hole in your wallet for every single second of his time.

However, as you’re closing in on the hidden door you start growing strikingly aware of the fact you have no idea how to actually meet him there and having to knock on it makes you feel both silly and self conscious.

Luckly, you don’t have to do anything.

Iwaizumi burst the door open in time to fetch you and drag you inside as you let out a little yelp, and suddenly you’re surrounded by the smell of weed, cigars and sweat along with men; Iwaizumi’s hot, sweety skin is sticky against yours and you have the fleeting thought that maybe that would be off putting to you if you didn't have the all consuming need to drop to your knees and lick it all from his fucking skin.

“Iwa,” leaves you lips for no reason, just for the fact it’s his name and you let your neck fall back against his shoulder, turning your head to finally taste his skin. Iwaizumi’s arms tighten around you in such a way you feel the rumble of his growl and he all but tow you deeper inside.

You can barely get a look around the dimly lit, dirty backstage room before you’re past the messy lounge and into a tight corridor that ends a small, locker-room styled bathroom where Hajime quickly dips inside.

You get one look at the metal lockers on the side, the two sinks with mirrors upfront and the four bathroom stalls on the left, two on each side before you focus back on Iwaizumi’s jawline, nibbling on whatever you can find and relishing on every little noise that tumbles from his lips.

Hajime’s arms leave you for one moment, depositing you on unsteady legs so he can turn the lock on the door and by then his hand is burying itself in your hair and closing at your hip, forcefully pulling you to him as his mouth closes around your neck and he proceeds to kiss, bite and suck at every spanse of your skin.

“Fuck, I didn’t want to do this here,” Iwaizumi starts with a gruff voice that makes your center weep, the force of his hands around you enough to render your feet useless as he strides over to the sink, imediatelly hiking you over it with his big hands over your ass and a hard bite at your shoulder as if he’s pinging you as the culprit of his angish. “But I can’t fucking wait anymore.”

He sounds so pained, so raw, that you can’t help but groan, mouth searching his quickly as your hands reach for his hair and shoulder, nails digging on whatever you find to secure your hold on his slippery skin. He tastes of whisky and weed, but it’s the fact that it’s Hajime that renders you intoxicated.

“I’ve wanted you for so long,” he admits as his teeth nibble on your bottom lip, a trail of kisses making their way down so he can bite at your neck, licking it over just so he can suck on it, your eyes rolling back inside your head as your body all but trembles. “I was sure you weren’t interested, fuck.”

That is probably the one thing that could pull you from the haze settling in your brain caused by the fucking thrill that having Hajime kissing and holding you is enough to cause.

“Are you insane?” You whine back at him, tilting your head away from his mouth as your fingers pull at his hair to look him in the eyes. Those beautiful, heated and earnest florest-green eyes that have been your demise since day one. “Iwa, there hasn't been a day I wasn’t interested.”

There’s an edge of surprise on his face, along with a hint of something soft you can’t name and you all but moan at him, unable to form words of just how much you’ve wanted him and for how long. So you choose to show him, instead, legs circling his frame as you press your chest against his and hold his neck with both hands to pull him in a kiss that leaves you lightheaded, toes curling on your heels and heat burning through your veins, melting your insides until it spills on your underwear.

A rumble in his chest tells you about the groan he keeps inside and Iwaizumi’s hands take hold of the flesh of your ass and thighs with bruising strength, violent heartbeats making both of your bodies tremble with need. But then he angles himself back, breaks the kiss and curses after one look at your face.

Next thing you know Iwaizumi’s down on his knees between your thighs, holding you open with big hands under your knees and your brain just ups and fries. Your panties are sticking to your drenched folds and there’s no way the flimsy triangle is able to do much to hide you from Hajime’s attentive eyes. He groans, fingers dipping under the sides of your underwear and he pulls it to the side, baring you the best he can.

He doesn’t really say anything past throwing you a burning look, kissing up the inner part of your thighs, and then he’s mouth is on you - tongue lavishing at both sex and fabric, circling your clit with wondrous expertise and licking along your inner lips like they’re about to spill all your secrets.

“Fuck,” slips from you as your head arches back, hitting the wall. “Iwaizumi...”

Whispered from you that way, his name is the only thing that conveys all of the feelings bubbling on your chest: the glee of the mutual crush, the excitement of being this close, the massive bliss igniting your nerves at his ministrations. If the way Hajime doubles down on his efforts between your legs is any indication - tongue slipping up and down then back up to circle your clit mercilessly - you’d say he agrees.

You feel suspended in time, tense as a tight coil that’ll tear with a single harsh pull. His tongue dances around your cunt as much as he did on stage: perfectly. Deliriously bringing you to a high you’ve aren’t sure you’ve ever tasted. And then he brings his fingers to calmly, slowly massage around your entrance.

“Oh fucking christ!” Your burning moan bounces around the empty space loudly and you swear you feel him snickering against your cunt, only you’re way far gone to care. “Haji-fuck!”

Your hand slides over his hair, fingers delighted at how soft they feel and you use your palm to press his face further against your folds. Your hips humping anything they can because staying still feels like an impossible task with the way your blood is boiling inside your veins.

But then someone is pounding at the door loudly and your eyes snap open as your high slips from you, Iwaizumi’s lips abandoning your sex to throw a nasty glare at the door.

“C’mon Iwa-chan~” someone calls outside, sounding unbelievably pleased at the interruption. “You know the rules! We need to use the bathroom~”

“Two minutes!” Iwa snarl back and as the pounding on the door doesn’t come back, you think he got himself a deal. “Fucking assholes. Can’t give me one fucking moment when they’re the ones always doing this shit.”

He sounds so pissed it’s actually awfully endearing. Red in the face with swollen lips glistening in a pout, and despite the throbbing on your cunt, you can’t help but laugh. His eyes come back to you and a renewed wave of pleasure curls on your pussy by the clear shift into softness you find there, so you pull him back up standing and make a point of kissing him so hard you’re licking your juices from his chin.

Two minutes apparently go by awfully fast, as the door is nudged once again. Softly, this time.

“Fuckers,” Iwa mutters after he breaks the kiss, eyes as daggers aimed at whoever is outside the door. “Give me ten minutes and meet me outside?” You realize by the tone of his voice that Iwaizumi is nervous and your heart does a sickening loop inside your chest as if you needed a heads up of how much you’re gone for him. Your face must do something weird, as his eyes scrunch up and his hands grip on your hips with a tiny bit of strength, pleading. “I just need to change and get my stuff, I’ll be real quick, promise.”

Jesus Christ, didn’t he get it yet?

“Iwaizumi,” His name sounds gruff past your breathless throat and you see the way his eyes turn steely, bracing for heartbreak. “You could tell me to wait forever, and I’d be dying outside waiting for you.”

You make a point of holding his eyes because it feels like it’s important and you’re thankful for that as you can watch the exact moment Iwaizumi lets a long breath out, eyes warming as his lips descend upon yours - one time, then once again; his fingers drawing soft little patterns over your skin.

“I’ll be outside,” you tell him before someone disturbs the moment between you two and he helps you down the sink, your panties choosing this moment to slide to the floor, showing the fact that all that pulling ended up causing a rip. You choke up a gasp and Iwa chuckles, hand sliding to your bare ass to pat at the plush flesh.

“Well, one less thing in the way.”

Getting out of the bathroom and outside the backroom ends up being the most embarrassing thing about it all, as you’re forced to pass through a horde of almost-naked men that throw you all-knowing grins. The pretty man that welcomed you into the Club is the one with the wickedest grin and you can see by Iwaizumi’s grimace alone that he’s in for a hell of teasing.

If the hand gripping your hip is anything to go by, you’d doubt he’s paying it half a mind. He leaves you at the door, tells the ones around there to shut it as they watch, and breathlessly promises you he’ll come in a bit before closing the door.

Even so you can still hear the immediate hollering going on inside and you chuckle for a moment, until you try to take a step and your legs betray you, shaken. There’s a smile etched to your face that you can barely contain until you’re painfully remembered of the fact you’re dripping between your thighs. That’s all you need for your heart to beat on your face, burning so bright you’re surprised you haven’t melted to the floor.

You’re breathless and antsy as you wait for Iwaizumi to come back, the club visibly emptier after the final performance. Your friends have left already, only waiting around until you came to pick up your purse, all of them tired and drunk and leaving in group after calling enough ubers and making sure you were fine.

And not without teasing, of course.

God, you were more than fine. But you’re throbbing, uncomfortable wet and empty, increasingly aware of the fact you’re standing there pantiless as the horny fog dissipates a bit in the absence of one Iwaizumi Hajime to end your logic thinking.

You get antsy of waiting around in the bar despite the bartender trying to make nice small-talk and instead trudges over to the corridor, standing there awkwardly fidgeting as if he’s taking hours and not literally a few minutes.

The door opens with an urge and Hajime’s eyes zoom in on you, long strides that only serve to make your body once again acutely aware of it’s poor state, arousal spiking to the point where you press your legs together to help with the feeling.

But then he’s reaching for you before he’s even really close, and you’re quickly running to him and latching your lips together with urgency. Now that you can kiss him it feels like there’s no point in any other greeting that doesn’t involve his mouth on yours.

His hair is dripping wet with a recent, clearly quick shower and he’s wearing the same clothes you’re used to see him with day by day and, somehow, that just makes it all worse, a literal groan passing your lips as you reach once again for his lips but this time Iwaizumi stops you with a groan, turning you in his arms so both of you can eagerly trudge out of the Club.

Hajime tries to be mindful of you as he shortens his long strides to be able to accompany yours. You’re balancing yourself to run on heels, laugh bubbling out of your chest at the exhilarating feeling of glee of a mutual crush. Iwaizumi throws you one amused look, sharp smile turning teasing as his hands come to circle your waist, hoist you up and hurry the remaining distance to his car.

“Too slow!” Iwaizumi teases with a grunt and chuckles against your neck, big toothy smile against your skin. “Hurry up!”

“Someone’s eager,” you tease but he’s already rounding his car, pressing you on the side to attach his lips to your neck, soft bites and circling hips that show you just how much that sentence is true.

One of his hands surrounds your neck and his thumb tilts your head up enough for his lips to capture yours, a soft kiss contrasting with the need in his grasp on your hips.

“I think we’ve waited too long.”

“Yeah? Who’s fault is that, dumbass?” You nibble on his lips and grind your hips on the impressive burning length that presses on your belly. Iwaizumi chuckles, biting on your neck as his hand slides past your hip to close on your ass.

“Yours.”

Your outraged gasp is lost on his lips, passionate kiss blowing your rational thinking with a nuke. Would you ever recover from Iwaizumi Hajime? God, you don’t think so.

You pull him closer, pressing your chest against him, pressure building once again as your nipples stand to attention. Your leg rakes up on his side as if you’re not on the middle of the street and Iwaizumi lets his hand slide to the underside of your thigh; fingers dipping lower, digits gliding over your drenched slit once before he dips them carefully past the tight ring of your entrance. It’s barely anything, but your mind short-circuits, head falling back against the car.

“Fuck, you’re so wet.” Iwaizumi sounds anguished, teeth punishing his lips as his eyes bore on yours. His fingers slide deeper inside you and your mouth opens in a silent moan. “I can’t wait to be inside this pussy.”

That ends you, pussy clenching so hard around his barely there fingers it’s painful to feel the remaining emptiness. You puff a hot breath of air on his face, eyes dazed and blood boiling as you tense and throb.

“Iwa,” Your nails press on his skin so hard your own hand hurts, “if you keep doing this we’ll be doing it in the street.”

Something burns in him, as he presses his fingers deeper inside you to watch your eyes fall close and then pulls them all out, quickly opening the door.

“Get in.”

You obey, having half a mind to wonder if it’s really happening until he’s closing the door and circling the vehicle. “Iwa!” You plead, as somehow it feels like abandonment, your whole being hurting and boiling, a whine in your lips as Hajime slides in the driver's seat and turns the car on, driving it out the curb and down the street as a madman.

“We’re doing this right,” Hajime tells you as he drives, drinking your panting form from the corner of his eyes. His jeans are tight, hint of what awaits you forming a very clear pattern and you feel overheated, frenzied, throbbing with need. So as it turns out, you’re far past the point to care.

You adjust yourself in the seat, legs spreading to allow your hand to reach the appex of your sex as the other closes on a clothed breast. “Iwa,” you sigh in bliss as the pressure finally seems to give in just that one tiny bit. His eyes shoot to you and fall comically large at the view, turning hazed in sequence as his cheeks color red.

“God, baby, don’t do this to me,” Iwaizumi grunts, hand adjusting his cock through the jeans as his eyes try to flit between you and the fairly empty streets.

“I’m not doing anything to you though, I’m doing it to me.” You moan and the car loses balance for a second, sliding to the side and back as you laugh.

“You’re a fucking menace.”

“Try not to kill us, Iwa.” Is all you answer, moan slipping out at the way you let your fingers alleviate the pressure at your clenching center. Iwaizumi looks as if he’s in pain. One of his hands shoots down to hold on your left thigh, bruising strength delicious.

“You wanna play dirty, huh? That’s what you want?” The tinge of aggression in his voice makes your pussy throb around your fingers and for a moment it feels like he knows. “I can play dirty, baby. I can either make you cum like a good girl or let you hang the whole night like a brat, so what do you want?”

Your voice is nowhere to be found and your eyes are locked on Hajime as if he’s the one who hung the moon and stars. He even has the gal to smirk.

“I can be so good, baby, but I’m even better at being bad.”

You skyrocket shamelessly into a little bout of pleasure, a short-lived thing resembling a climax that’s caused by the whiplash of Hajime’s dominance and the pressure bursting inside you as you abuse your own fingers' expertise.

You tremble on his side, head thrown back with a moan of his name and Hajime curses loudly, hand at your thigh awkwardly reaching your slit to slide over it and push two fingers inside, catching the last of your short-lived climax. His face turns solemn, eyes darkening with hunger as a vein rises in his jaw and a renewed wave of wetness stains his digits.

Those forest-green eyes settle on you as he speeds down the empty street. “I’m going to end you,” Iwaizumi presses deeper and you arch your body, legs falling wider for him as fingers you effortlessly, driving and stretching you on thick digits that make you gasp on your own breath.

“This is how it’s going to be.” Hajime starts, voice rough and hot. “Once we’re out of this car and private enough, I’m burying myself inside this pretty pussy in one go.” Your whole breath leaves you in one quick breath, eyes falling open as Hajime’s thumb rounds your clit and a third finger starts pushing inside your walls, burning stretch making you delirious as his words take you apart, one by one.

“Then, I’m fucking you the whole night until you cant even think about a time where I wasn't inside you,” his fingers curve inside your walls, calling motion and upwards thrust that makes your pleasure sparks through your whole body, one hand closing around his wrist as the other locks on a breast. “Until you feel empty without me inside.”

He pulls his hand back as you all but sob, eyes literally welling with tears at the loss of your quickly rising bliss but one look at Hajime has you sobering up, his focused eyes on the street as he hurries down the rest of the way.

As it ends up, Iwaizumi stays true to his words.

He presses you up against the door of his apartment while you two are still on the corridor, brings his hands to your thighs and hikes you up against the door, your dress sliding way past your ass as your bare, throbbing pussy glides over his clothed length. Your whole skin feels like a live-wire, hypersensitive and vibrating.

Hajime’s mouth is closed in a bite on your shoulder as he uses his abilities to open his door without interfering with the sinful way you roll your center against his big cock, needy and lost, pleading for him to just fuck you.

When it clicks open, both his hands fly to your ass as he pushes past the door and close it with a bang as he presses you against it. His mouth is back on yours, tongue invading your lips with a groan and hand flying to tear his jeans open and down just enough for his big, hard cock spring free.

"Yes!" You break the kiss to cry at the first touch of his weeping, hot cock against your cunt, the sheer amount of wetness making it slide from your hole to your clit and then down again.

Hajime sucks a breath to still himself, slowly angles his hips back and let the thick head slide to your entrance with perfect precision, slamming himself half the way inside with one powerful thrust that have his head falling on your shoulder with a blissful groan, your cries of agreement thrown around the air above as you angle your head back.

Your walls fall open for him brutally, soaking wet and ready but still struggling against the stretch. It burns, his fat cock pulsing inside you and as you clench around his girth you realize he's not even all the way inside.

"Oh my god," you breathe out and Iwa sighs, fist slamming on the side of the door as he braces himself and rolls his hips, pushing steadily, sheathing his cock inside you slowly. You choke on a breath, suddenly silent, legs kicking out without your brain to rein on it.

"Jesus," Iwa grunts as he bottoms out, his legs trembling from the effort of holding himself back, mind stumbling as every single cell in his body seems overwhelmed by the feeling of reaching paradise. “You feel like heaven.”

Hajime tells you mostly because he wants to feel you clench around him and you do, his heart soaring with the delicious high of knowing exactly what makes you tick; but the throbbing of his cock reminds him just how long he’s been forgotten and Iwaizumi adjusts his stance, locks his arms around you and simply mutters, “Now, to fucking you the whole night.”

You skyrocket quicker than ever, few presses and pulls igniting a supernova bliss in your veins, tongue useless as it feels alien in your mouth, brain short-circuiting at his thrusts. You’ve never felt like this and you’re pretty sure you’ll never would, not without Hajime.

You’re so lost you don’t even realize he moves you from the door to the wall, Hajime’s hands grabbing a handful of your hair to pull you to a blistering kiss, the trimmed hair at the base of his cock doing wonders against your clit every time he bottoms out, nestled inside a place you never even felt before.

You’re so oversensitive, wound up and tense as your pussy holds him as a vice, grunts falling from his lips that make you skin all but burn at the delicious praise.

As you squeeze “Hajime” past your mouth in a painful breath, frenzied eyes searching for his, he soothes you with kisses all over your face.

“Go ahead, baby.” He tells you with his lips against your skin, “I got you.”

You explode.

There’s no other way to explain the way your pleasure blows you over, sharpshooter through your veins and short-circuits your brain. It feels like being caught in an ocean wave, unable to swim as it carries you underwater and the tides hold you down, unending twirls that assault you through every side until you’re finally reaching shore, rising above to suck a deep breath.

Hajime is peppering your face with kisses as you settle back inside your skin, blinking hazy eyes to his perfect face with a ridiculous smile that must show just how fucking much you’re smitten. But there’s an edge of something painful on his face.

“Wow.” You breathe and his cock responds inside you with a nod of agreement.

Hajime chuckles, plants a big kiss on your wet lips and tries to smile despite the strain on his face as he calls your name. “I’m going to fuck you now.”

“Well, when you put it like that,” you smile dumbly at him, loose and fuzzy around the edges. “Go ahead. Not sure I’ll be of much use, I think I just had a outer body experience.”

“Hmmm,” Hajime smirks, tight around the edges with his throbbing cock buried in your pulsing heat. as he seems pensive “No can’t do, baby.” He rolls his hips for a moment, lecherous noise echoing around the silent flat, then decides to bring you across the short distance to his couch, letting his ass fall on it graceless, cock pressing deeper with the movement. He drinks the little gasp straight from your lips.

“I think I’ve earned my turn to sit back and relax.” Hajime smiles, predatory, hungry and you decide you just may love him like this. “So why don’t you do us both a favor and ride it?”

#iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi hajime smut #iwaizumi smut #iwaizumi hajime #haikyuu smut #thesmutpilecollab #cw exhibitionism

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