#but I used to be a lot more sensitive to trace amounts and let me tell you

[kleftiko]

❦ HOW TO GIVE HEAD

cw: mature, sexual content, blowjobs, swearing

here are the tips i give my friends so that they get 10/10 sloppy top ratings

"baby~" you coo from beside him on the couch.

the corner of choso's lips lift slightly in response, but his eyes still focus on the screen of his phone.

"babe~" you call again. "cho~"

although your voice is the most beautiful sound he's ever heard in his life, your boyfriend grants you mercy and finally answers you.

"yes, baby?" he asks softly, eyes not leaving his phone but the small smile still on his face. he can't see the beautiful, but maniacal, grin on your lips.

"teach me how to give a blowjob~"

the tendons in his hand tighten, nearly cracking the poor device between his fingers. besides his entire body going rigid, his eyes lock onto yours, only to nearly lose himself in the look of lust in your gaze.

"y-you can't just ask that shit with a smile on your face!" your boyfriend sputters, cheeks and neck blooming with a harsh blush.

"but who else am i supposed to ask?" your question is just too pure and innocent for the look in your face, and yet, choso can't help but fall victim to you.

"fine, just-fine." he takes a tense breath before saying "sit."

with a little too much enthusiasm, you kneel on the floor between his legs, hands gently resting atop your thighs. you look like a doll to him, so eager to please and so pretty that his cock would twitch even if he didn't know what was going to happen next.

he runs a hand over his face.

"fuck, baby, don't look so eager." his deep voice is muffled behind his fingers.

you giggle. "can't help it."

"'kay, now—um—fuck." choso pinches his nose for a second, gathering his own courage to say, "you're gonna need, like, a lot of spit." while he speaks, your fingers dance across the waistband of his sweatpants, littering his v-line with goosebumps as you free his half hard cock from his boxers.

"it needs to be messy, yea?" you look up at him and lick your lips, coating them with a shine that.

he nods silently, jaw clenched.

"t-then, you're gonna wanna -fuck!" you don't let him finish when you take a lick against his tip. the rough texture of your tongue dulled by the coating of saliva you gathered across it. as you continue to pleasure him, he lets out a low groan of satisfaction, his grip tightening on the edge of the couch. the intensity in his eyes tells you that he's enjoying every moment, encouraging you to take him further down your throat.

"fuck." he whines, taking note of your comfortability, just like always. "breath through your nose."

your head bobs up, taking a breath through your nose now that your throat is clear. swirling the tip of his cock with your tongue, you tease him with slow, deliberate strokes. his hips buck involuntarily, a desperate plea for more. the taste of his precum on your tongue only fuels your desire to please him further.

"the tip-the tip, baby." your tongue pays special attention to the slit at the top of his pretty dick that's leaking absurd amounts of precum, and your boyfriend squeaked out a small, "yes, fuck."

as you continue to focus on pleasuring him, you eagerly comply with his request, intensifying your attention on the sensitive tip of his throbbing member. the combination of his desperate pleas and the taste of his precum drives you to further explore and satisfy him, ensuring his pleasure remains at the forefront of your mind.

"b-balls."

your manicured hands cup his balls. you gently massage and caress them, feeling their weight in your palms. the soft moans escaping his lips encourage you to continue, as you use the pads of your fingers and palms to fondle them.

"oh fuck."

it feels like a shame to waste your nails, so with one of them abandoning your boyfriend's sensitive balls, it creeps up to his v-line. You trace teasing circles along his v-line, feeling the shivers of anticipation ripple through his body. the combination of your delicate touch and the sensation of your nails grazing his skin heightens his arousal, making him tremble with desire.

the combination of all your minstrastions causes choso to buck against you, whimpering out obscenities as he jumbles out a warning of going to cum.

"fuck!" he whimpers as your lips release him.

spurts of cum fly into the air, landing in splats across choso's thighs, pants, and your hands as you lazily jerk him off.

the fucked out expression on his face and the mess he made of himself all because of your doing just made you crave him even more, so with one last move, you gave his angry, red, tip a soft lick, nearly causing him to cry in ecstasy.

when he calmed down, he gave you a look.

"you've done this before."

[bernardsbendystraws]

Blurb of Matt taking care of you after rough sex.

Your body and mind were spent. The only thing you were able to focus on was your heaving chest as you gasped for air. 

“Fuck,” Matt pets down your sweaty hair. “--did so good for me, hold on.” he says, slowly pulling out of you.

A hiss left your lips from the sensitivity. Your legs were still shaking, falling limply onto the bed as Matt detached them carefully from his waist. 

The amount of orgasms he had given you was ungodly. You had lost count after the first three, too consumed by his ruthless pace to pay attention to anything but his hard dick pumping into you over and over again. 

Muscles and limbs were already tender and sore as you squint your eyes tightly in an uncomfortable ache of pain. “Ow, fuck,” you whine out, using your hands to maneuver your legs to a more comfortable position. 

“Hey,” Matt moves you himself with a soft and careful notion. He furrows his sweaty face at you with concern, petting over your thighs as they quiver and vibrate with overstimulation. “--what’s up? Talk to me.” he soothes. 

Unable to gather any more energy, you simply shake your head. Matt leans forward, kneeling over you before pressing a kiss to your forehead. 

“Sweetheart, talk to me,” he looks at your hazy eyes concerned and with sympathy. “Did you not like it–” 

You cut him off, lazily bringing your hand up to comb through his hair. “Mmmm, no. I just—it was a lot. I’m just…” your eyes struggle to stay open as you feel him start to litter small kisses along your cheek. “--’m just tired, baby.” you whisper out.

Matt hums as his nose drags along your jaw. “Okay, let me take care of you, yeah?” He pushes the hair sticking to the side of your face behind your ear. Lazy, you lean into the touch. Matt smiles softly at this before gently adjusting to support your head as he moves his hand. 

“I’m gonna get a towel, okay? I’ll be right back.” he says. 

The bed shifts as he stands up. Your foggy mind listens to his shuffling into the bathroom. His footsteps come closer before you feel his cold hand wrap under your knee, spreading your legs back open. Sore muscles scream as you let out a small cry, your eyes darting open with shock. 

“---’m sorry, sweetheart. Give me one second here, okay?” 

Matt lets his hand rub gently on your thigh, holding open the limp ligament. He gently swipes across a cool, damp towel between your legs. At the gentle care, you sigh in relief. 

“There we go,” he praises, his lips pressing softly to your thigh as he gently lowers your leg back onto the bed. 

Your body turns inwards towards the bed as you feel Matt lay down. As you feel a cool object bump your lips, you open your eyes to see him holding his water bottle in front of your mouth. Greedily, you chug a couple sips of the water. You pull away breathless once more.

“Done?” he asks. Nodding your head, he takes the water bottle opening and presses it against his own lips, his throat gulping loudly. 

He pulls it away, offering the bottle in front of you once more. “Are you sure?” he asks. 

Letting out a soft hum, he lifts the water over and places it down on the nightstand. Too lazy to resist, your eyes flutter shut once more. The thin layer of sweat on your skin quickly turns your overheated body cold as you involuntarily shiver. 

“Here,” you feel the soft blanket thrown on the bottom of the bed being tossed over your body. “--better?” You hum again, too worn out for any words. 

“Can I hold you now, sweetheart?” Matt asks. You flutter your eyes open with a smile. His hand wraps around your waist, pulling your body to his. Skin to skin, your body relaxes into him. 

A moment of silence passes by with a heavy energy. You let your nails trace into his chest. “--everything okay?” you press. 

“I, uh–are you sure the sex was okay? I know it was, um, rougher than usual.” he ponders out loud. 

Hugging your arms around him, you squeeze with what little energy you have left. “I loved it, baby. You make me feel so good. I just, I wasn’t expecting it is all.” you explain. 

Matt curls his arm around you tighter, bringing you closer to him as he lets his lips press onto your head. “Good, I just wanna make sure. I…I really love you.” he announces with a relaxed sigh. 

“I love you.” you proclaim, smiling as your body melts more in his secure arms. 

It feels good—it feels safe. 

[sunshineandspencer]

Cowboy hat rule, Part 4 (Tyler Owens, Twisters)

A/N: Let’s put it this way, I don’t remember writing this. But it certainly exists so you may have it, I want to rewatch this movie completely legally🏴‍☠️, but I’m not at home and I can’t. Physically weeping as I type this.

Pairing: Tyler Owens x Fem!Reader.

Summary: In between butting heads with Javi’s team and running a successful YouTube channel based entirely around tornadoes, Tyler Owens is introduced to the most interesting woman he’s seen in a good while - and her sister.

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: kind of suggestive (honestly not sure, it’s pretty late and my brain doesn’t work), minor swearing, I’m beginning to forget the movie so forgive me, very limited knowledge of America (I’m English).

Parts: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

I have redone the form for the taglist now that I’m apparently expanding from Criminal Minds

A rodeo, he brought her to a rodeo. 

And not just any rodeo, but one in the middle of tornado valley. For the amount of tornadoes this place gets, there are a lot of people here. It makes her nervous. 

Thankfully, there are idiots on horses to keep her entertained, and reminiscing about her childhood. 

At some point, Tyler leaned over. Pressing his shoulder to hers and ducking his head so she could hear him. His breath just ghosting her ear. 

“Not your first rodeo?”

“Not even close.”

Her eyes flicked to his, grinning up at him. He’s certain the sight of her smiling at him is going to be seared in his brain forever. 

Especially when she shuffled closer, so that she could be heard. Their thighs pressed together nearly as close as their shoulders. He could smell the faint traces of her perfume, he wishes she’d put some on before they’d left.

“Daddy used to compete in rodeos, up until we were eleven. He had an accident, and mom told him that if he ever did it again it wouldn’t be the bulls he had to worry about.”

He loves her mom, right now she’s the greatest woman in the world. Besides the pretty woman that she created, sat pressed against him. 

Her eyes went back to the rodeo, but his didn’t, watching her profile and wondering how he got so.. smitten.

Nudging her with his shoulder, he gave that bright grin - a real, happy grin that people are accustomed to. 

“I’m learning all sorts about you Alpine.”

“That you are, and yet you remain an enigma.”

“Aww, you don’t have to go about using all kinds of fancy words, you can just call me pretty.”

They both laughed at that, hushed and slightly giggled. Like a pair of schoolchildren mucking about in assembly and didn’t want to get caught. 

Leaning into each other, wondering why everything feels so much funnier when they’re together. 

But then she nudged him, telling him to actually tell her something about himself.

“I used to compete too, got stomped in the head a little too much and figured college would do me a little better.” He fidgeted with his watch, fitting it properly to his wrist. “I don’t mean to pry, but since we’re in a sharing mood, what’s up with Kate and Javi?”

She gave a long suffering sigh, and he realised he might’ve just hit a sensitive subject. But before he can tell her not to worry about it, she’s smiling at him. 

She’d leant away now, and he doesn’t like it, leaning with her arms on the back of the seats, her legs crossed and no longer against his. 

Is it selfish? To want her close again? Because he can be selfish if that’s what it takes. 

“He’s always had a thing for her. We used to work together, a group of us. Me and Javi were dating, Kate had her boyfriend, but I knew he loved her. I looked a lot more like her then.. I was a replacement but that was fine because at least I could pretend I was loved.”

Giving Tyler a soft smile, she realised that was probably a little more than he bargained for. 

Not knowing that he was currently cycling through all the ways he could murder the guy and shove him into a tornado to make it look like an accident. 

He could do it, it’s not hard to shove a dead body into a tornado when you drive into them for a living.

“Maybe he’ll finally get his head out his ass and ask her out. I doubt it though, he’s terrified of rejection.”

Tyler nodded, eyebrows furrowed, and then leant back with her. Arms going around the back of the chairs, fingers dusting her shoulder. 

Somehow, even that small touch was enough for her body to become instantly aware of the lingering heat from when they’d been pressed together. 

Then he gave her another one of those smiles, and she could’ve melted straight through the plastic. 

“If you want, I could run him over and send him up into a tornado. Let God and the weather do their things.”

She laughed - thank God she laughed - and he’s certain that he’s found something more beautiful than any tornado he’d ever chased in his entire life. 

And when she calmed down to look at him, smile still playing at those pretty kissable lips, her hands swatted out against his chest. 

“Don’t make it sound like you murder people so often, I have to get back in the truck with you.”

“Ahh, don’t worry about that Alpine. You’re too pretty to murder, can’t have the world bereft of that face now can we?”

Before she can answer, a swirl of leaves assault the audience, including them. Leaves that, really, were too violent to have just been caught up in a gust of wind. 

Picking one up, she crumpled the leaves and then opened her palm. The way they spread out left her nervous. 

“Were you tracking out this way?”

Looking to him nervously, she didn’t like that look on his face. Because they had been, but from the data, even Kate said the one out this way shouldn’t form anything too bad. 

Maybe the conditions for the tornado improved, because it definitely seems like something had touched down. By the way the bleachers are rattling. 

He didn’t answer either, just looking around at all the people here, calculating the tragedies if something did set down. 

But it hadn’t, or else they would’ve gotten—

All at the same time the tornado warnings sounded on their phones, and everyone began to panic, including her. 

Snapped out of it by Tyler taking her hand and getting her up. Pulling her through the crowd. 

“Come on, we need to find shelter!”

It’s hard to hear over the wind, and when she heard shit start flying off behind them, her blood felt sharp in her veins and she kept up the pace next to him. 

Glad he’s got her hand in his or she’s not sure how fast she could run. 

“I don’t- I don’t go into tornadoes, I do the data. I don’t go into the fucking things! I’m not you, I’m not used to this.”

He pulled her to a stop just inside a motel parking area, thankfully covered for now. Grabbing her shoulders and looking at her sincerely, realising that she really was scared. 

He knew she stayed back, he didn’t know why, but the genuine terror on her face said enough. 

“You’ll be alright, I promise. I won’t let you get hurt by this thing. But we need to get to shelter, okay?”

As he started pulling her along, all the noise rushed back to her and made her feel sick. Aware of the crashes and the screams, and the drag of metal on metal as the motel threatened to break apart. 

A woman was trying to get her daughter into the car, and she dragged Tyler to a stop. 

“No! No, don’t get in your car!! Get out, come here!”

They did, thank God, and joined them in the motel. Shoving past the idiot at the desk who clearly doesn’t know what’s going on. 

Everyone talking all over each other about basements or shelters. 

She was going a little haywire, and caught onto the crash of a metal gate swinging back and forth. The pool. It’s emptied and the wall would’ve been opened for maintenance. 

There’d be an alcove for them to huddle in and hopefully things to hold onto. 

Grabbing Tyler’s arm and shouting over everyone else. 

“Come on! We haven’t got time to argue, follow me!”

Shouldering open the door, she knew the woman and her child were close behind. As well as the clerk, while Tyler was trying to convince the two idiots that there was actually a tornado. 

Helping the woman into the pool, both her and her daughter were sobbing, not that she blamed them. It’s a miracle that she isn’t. 

Once the little girl was safely in her mom’s arms, she motioned for them to get to the end of the pool. 

Turning around to look for Tyler, she felt his hands on her waist from behind, easing her quickly towards the ladder to get into the pool. Allowing herself a moment to breathe. 

Until she caught sight of that couple trying to drive away, getting caught up in the tornado that is way too close for comfort.

Hurrying down, she reached up for Tyler, half wanting him to just jump down, and get to safety as quickly as possible. Pressing a hand to his back to stable him as he dropped down. 

Both of them rush over to alcove with the woman and her daughter. 

Showing them where to hold, and that she should keep her daughter’s eyes covered from any debris. And not to let go or look around for any reason. 

As she started to get a grip on the pipes, she heard a shriek from the motel clerk. He had tried to stand up while Tyler was helping him, and was sent to the shallow end. 

Then the idiot tried again and was dragged off into the sky. Her heart was heavy in her throat as she watched Tyler turn and start to crawl back to them. Fighting against the wind. 

Holding on tight to the pipes, but leaning out with her hand as far as she could go. Desperately reaching for him. 

Especially when a bus or something landed in the pool and started to tip over them. He’d be crushed. 

She’s too panicked to really think about anything other than making sure he grabbed her hand. Because she wasn’t losing anyone else - not him. 

As soon as his palm connected to hers, she pulled hard, to give him that small bit of leverage he needed right as the bus fell. 

He pressed up behind her, keeping both her, and the woman pinned to the pipes, holding on as best he could. They got a little more cover from the bus, thankfully, but the wind was still bad. 

With one arm still curled around the pipes, her other reached back to get a handful of his shirt. He was not going anywhere. 

Once it was over, all of them soaked and panting, and pretty injured from projectiles, they finally let go. 

Of the pipes, anyway. She couldn’t let go of his shirt yet, even as his hands found her waist. Digging in, to help her stand and reassure himself they’re still alive. 

Once they’d stood, and stumbled out from around the bus, they walked up to the shallow end to look around. 

The town - the rodeo - had been decimated. 

And with his hands still comfortably on her waist, she eased the grip on his shirt. Finally turning and wrapping her arms around him. Squeezing as tight as she could to try and now reassure herself. 

They’re both alive; they’re both okay. 

He hugged her back just as tightly, and she’s not sure if it’s the adrenaline from surviving, but she never wants to be anywhere but his arms ever again. 

Want more?! Good!

[themeraldee]

love the idea of homelander early in a relationship getting overwhelmed with all these new affectionate and sensual skin to skin touches but of course not understanding why and being so frustrated that something he's always wanted feels like too much. and then his partner figuring out what's going on reassures him they can take it slow, it doesn't bother them, they want him to feel good too. just like this gradual exposure therapy to touch for him since he's always suited and booted up to the neck and he's definitely sensitive.

I dig this idea. I will say I imagine him to be okay with using his hands. We see him without gloves decent amount of times for me to believe that it's not that much of a sensory issue. Or just something he's had a chance to get used to.

(Plus he's been with Maeve and I doubt he was fingering her with the gloves on)

Howeverrrr I adore the idea you've painted with this ask. Like the urge, the earnest need to just be held, touched, revered and worshipped yet each touch from you feels like an electric current going straight through his nerves (he'd know what that's like). Like he wants you so bad, he wants to finally feel vulnerable with someone who loves him but it's so much more overwhelming than he accounted for. The same impervious skin that's capable of withstanding incredible forces, softens and becomes overly sensitive and malleable under a soft hand (very oobleck of him).

lil snippet where nothing happens under the cut ⬇️⬇️⬇️

Homelander prefers having sex with the suit on. It feels good, great even, but he gets to focus on just one part of him that feels that way, it's not his entire body being set on fire.

Now that you're in bed together you found out that he likes to sleep naked or in pyjama pants only. After seeing him in the suit majority of the time, that's quite the sight. He rarely allows his skin to be exposed as is, let alone in such tight quarters. You take the chance to run the back of your fingers across his back as soon as he turns to the side revealing the expanse of smooth, soft skin.

"What are you—" His breath hitches but you're not discouraged from the touch. You already rarely see him without the suit on, touching him is a whole other treat.

"—just wanna touch you." You interrupt him, immediately soothing him and stopping him from turning around with a flat palm on his back. You turn your hand around, gliding your knuckles down his spine. "I'll be gentle. Let me know if it's too much."

The part of him that's not used to gentle, genuine touches of any kind gets choked up. While he just about nods with an affirmative hum, his waterline stings with tears. His heart is beating like a rabbit and while at first tensed up he's slowly relaxing under your touch.

You take your time, switching from knuckles to fingertips. After a few spirals and mindless lines you start tracing letters across his back.

"Guess what letter I'm writing." You say, smile tinting your tone as you tear him out of his own self-destructive thoughts.

He hums again, confirming his participation in your little game.

After you trace your fingers up and across he says, "H." You praise his correct guess and continue.

"O."

"N."

"No, you got that one wrong. Try again." You trace the letter again.

"M."

"Yep! You got it."

"Alright I get it, it's 'Homelander'." He laughs a little and you can tell that he's enjoying this. From the first touch that made you feel like you were taming a feral animal, to the melted-into-the-mattress state you've turned him into.

"Shh, stop spoiling the game. Keep guessing." So he does, and while the word does end up being 'Homelander' it's still a lot of fun to be able to touch him in a sweet and affectionate way.

That moment turns things around, where he eagerly welcomes your touch and seeks it whenever possible. Finally allowing himself to enjoy the affection for what it is.

[unintentionalseductress]

OHHHHH okay that makes a lot more sense thank you

I thought you asked for a random prompt idk why

Could you possibly do sub!nanami+9?

Kento groans as your pretty fingers with the neatly manicured nails grip his cock, and begin to pump him enticingly. There's little he can do. You've expertly handcuffed him to the study bedframe and no amount of struggle could allow him to get loose.

You had already milked his cock three times now, the tip sensitive and overstimulated, the effort of cumming a fourth time feeling impossible as you move your hand over him slickened with his seed.

"I-mistress...I can't," he grunts pathetically, feeling like his cock may go numb from the sensation of building need. His mind is in a haze and he's made a mess everywhere from how hard his last orgasms were. His hips buck under your expertise, his breaths becoming shallow.

The very faint traces of an orgasm begin to grip him, but they're so vague and his body wants to quit, even though his mind is desperately seeking your approval to be a good sub. Craving your praise and needing to do what you wanted him to.

"Can't what?" you ask sweetly, unrelentingly pumping him length while applying gentle pressure to his perineum with you thumb causing him to let out a low hiss of ecstasy. "If it's too much use your safe word sweetie. If I don't hear it, I'm not stopping."

He's shivering, body covered in sweat, trying to think. Did he need his safe word? No...he could take more...

"My sweet boy," you coo at him, then grasp his hair at the roots, forcing his head back as you continue to firmly stroke his cock, "We're done when I say so."

A whimper leaves his throat, the sexiest noise imaginable, coming from this muscled, handsome man. He blushes pink, feeling vulnerable with his reactions.

"Don’t stop yourself, let me hear,” you say encouragingly, watching him writhe and gasp under your ministrations. You recognize the frenzied look in his eyes, the way his body bucks and arches and increase the pressure and pace of your movements.

"Be a good boy...cum for me my sweet boy," you say seductively, looking at him in the eye.

The effort it took for him to lean into and experience the orgasm you gave him shakes his whole being, a loud guttural cry leaving his throat as he orgasms, thick spurts of cum leaving his swollen, abused tip, falling on your tits as you angle him perfectly.

You press a kiss to his sweaty forehead, gently soothing him, playing with his hair as you bring him back down from his blinding high.

"You did so well my sweet boy."

He rests his head at the crook of you neck, his face flushed from your praise, seeking comfort.

"Thank you mistress," he mumbles tiredly, making you giggle and press a kiss to his cheek.

"Let's get you cleaned up."

Send me a prompt!

[crguang]

hiii I have a request for an nsfw fic (or it can also be a headcanon. Whatever suits you best ^^) about black swan with a mommy kink (sorry, I'm a lesbian with mommy issues and I love black swan a lot 😞)

(and also sorry for the bad english of the translator 😭😭)

i chose to go the headcanon route for this one, thank you for requesting this! do not apologize i am just like you. it’s himeko for me but i can totally see why you’d go for black swan for this hdjdjfjgk

i’m getting a little hot just thinking about it, my goodness. black swan is so gentle. she’s often perceived as a warm person with a great listening ear and it’s ridiculously effortless to feel at ease when she sounds so sultry and relaxed. her first time with you, she wants to map out your body, feel you under palms until she can picture the entirety of it when she closes her eyes.

her lips softly trace patterns from your jaw to your collarbone; her touch is reverent and steady, she has an enormous amount of patience at her disposal and you’ll just have to let her have her way with you. she tastes your skin like she’s never been in this position before, like she’s never found herself above such a beautiful specimen, so she takes all the time she can afford to feel every inch of you.

she’s especially fond of the little sounds that escape you, she loves knowing how much she affects you and you just sound so cute with your breathless gasps and soft sighs of pleasure, she can’t help being a bit greedy. you can hear her low chuckles whenever she finds a sensitive spot on your skin and brings her mouth to it, teasing it with a graze of her teeth, and you try to muffle noises that are begging to be heard. she purposely trails up the inside of your thighs while she’s kissing your neck, manicured fingertips brushing the edges of your underwear, just to hear those pretty sounds out your mouth.

i dont think the mommy kink would take her by surprise at all, which is a little funny. if it spills from your lips absentmindedly and you get flustered over it, she’d just chuckle and coo at you a bit: “what was that, sweet girl? go on, let me hear it again.” she’d coax you into repeating yourself by gently rubbing circles into your hip and kissing the underside of your jaw. she feels immense satisfaction as your quiet voice hits her ears and rewards your obedience with a languid kiss on your lips <3

black swan knows the effect she has on people. she uses it to her advantage all the time, but when you call her mommy she feels so valued, a little shiver runs down her spine. she wants to hear it again and again and again, until your vocal chords are hoarse and you can only brokenly call out for more of her touch between your legs.

talks you through your orgasms. she finds that you’re more responsive when she encourages you with a low “just like that, darling…” or “you’re doing so good, taking it so deep…” her eyes never leave your face as you teeter on the edge, she drinks in your every quiver and shudder with a hungry gaze. if her mouth is free, she likes to muffle your pleas with a kiss and feel your breath as you stammer “m-mommy…” into her mouth.

praise comes so easy to her and she has a whole roster of pet names ready to be used; sweet girl, sweetheart, darling, my dear, lovely, pretty… they fly past her lips without her needing to think about it. her praise is usually what pushes you over the edge and she’s very smug about the fact that she can make you come with her voice. who wouldn’t when she sounds this sexy as she commands you to “come for mommy, sweetheart.” ? my throat is so dry right now.

black swan gets so, so wet out of pleasuring you, be good and return the favour, won’t you? it doesn’t matter how, though she does have a particular affinity for your mouth. grinding her cunt onto your tongue is a surefire way to make her come hard, and her moans are the hottest sounds. she loses herself in breathy praises and needy moans, fingers in your hair keeping you between her parted thighs, and she thinks you look like such cute puppy as you lick her enthusiastically, desperate to please her. she’ll repeat broken sentences of “so good— you’re making mommy feel so good—” over and over until she’s creaming in your mouth <3

aftercare is a very soft affair. she lets you catch your breath while she gently kneads your thighs or runs her hands down your back, making sure you know how good you did for her and how much you’ve affected her with sweet murmurs into your cheek. she runs a bath/shower for you and smiles wide if you ask her to join you. she washes your back and takes the moment to record your glistening skin into her memory. she changed the sheets and makes sure you’re comfortable and warm before taking you into her arms, your head on her chest, and humming you to sleep while tracing your shoulder blades. swan is very, very warm in general and it’s really nice to be cared for by her.

[asce-of-hearts]

First of all I wanna wish you a very beautiful new year and thank you for all the work🫶🏼

How about „🌻 I’m aching to make you mine“ with Chrollo and a (very long) kidnapped reader? He tried to give her the time to come to him but she just wouldn’t lol. With noncon pretty please👉🏼👈🏼 Thank you a lot and a beautiful day/night!

Object of Desire

contents: Yandere!Chrollo smut with prompt: "I'm aching to make you mine". (fem!reader)

more Chrollo content here!

WARNINGS: NSFW UNDER THE CUT, IMPLIED KIDNAPPING, NON-CON, GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF VIOLENCE AND DEATH (NOT TOWARDS READER), PRAISE, BREEDING KINK, READER IS RESTRAINED BY THE WRISTS AND HAS A GAG. DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT.

He had given you time.

He knew how to do this. It was like approaching a stray cat, you had to go slow and gentle, to give it time to get close to you, pet it a little and then take it away when you felt it was the right time. You were that stray cat, but things simply weren't working like that.

He had kept his facade for a long time now, he expected you to be more than friends by now but you were still not giving in. He was getting angry, he was getting frustrated and he was getting annoyed. Were you even friends? Well he didn't fucking know because you refused to even talk to him in this last three months you had been trapped in his house. He wanted to kill someone. Why. Weren't. You. Complying.

But he was going to be gentle still. He was going to keep being gentle as he tied your wrists and then the remaining rope to the bedpost. He didn't need to immobilize your feet with restraints, he could use his body weight for that. If he was meaner he would've broken your legs, but you can see he was being merciful as he slowly ghosted his fingertips over your sensitive skin. Your body shivered, and you felt exposed. He cold night air made you shiver, or was it the lusty glimmer in his eyes?

— I have desired you for so long now, my dear. In truth, I didn't only desire you. I was aching. Right now I'm still aching, I'm aching to make you mine. — he kissed the middle of your chest, he kept going down leaving a trail of wet kisses to decorate your skin. He felt happy, relieved almost, but not enough to feel satisfied. — I have desired to have you like this. Seems a bit superficial, don't you think? Carnal love is sometimes said to be the lowest of the pleasures love brings. But I don't think that's true. Sex, if you want to call it that, or, making love if you feel like the other is too vulgar, can be incredibly intimate for a couple. Connecting your bodies, feeling each other, confessing your deepest, darkest fantasies and desires and, who knows, even making a baby. That seems rather delightful to me. But what do you think, my love?

It's a rhetorical question, you're gagged. You want to cry and scream at him to let you go. But even if you did you know he wouldn't free you. He was just cruel like that, he was cruel when he took you away and he would remain cruel when he started to defile you. You had resigned, you had mentally prepared for it. It was only natural for a victim to start to resign for what's to come, whether it was death, torture or rape. That's what he was doing to you. Was it better than the others? Would it be better if he caused you an excruciating amount of pain? if he tied you to a chair and ripped out your fingernails from your skin, or hit you with a metal bat repeatedly. Was it better than just being killed in cold blood? Your body lying limp and bloody, your head sliced cleanly from your body. Yes, this seemed like the more merciful option. This seemed better than any of the two other things. And I mean, at least he wasn't torturing you, raping you and then disposing of you. You kept telling yourself this was for the better.

His fingers kept tracing your skin for a while, his eyes fixated on a certain spot from time to time. It was like he was trying to get the memory of you engraved in his skull forever. To never be able to forget how you look right now. Naked, exposed, vulnerable, and most importantly, his and his only. He smiled, continuing to kiss and touch your skin. He was happy, over the moon really. He could have never believed he would get to live this moment. He could hear your moans and whimpers, the little sniffles. And he could see the tears that clouded your eyes and made you only look more and more angelical. You started sweating, started getting wet between the legs. Maybe it was your bodily response, trying to look repulsive in the eyes of your torturer. But it wasn't working, it wasn't working now and it would never work in the future.

He didn't bother to put on a condom, or prepare you to take his intrusion. He was impatient, for once he wasn't being methodical and planning everything ahead of time. He wanted to enjoy the moment however it went. The emotions raw and the feelings of your skin against his unfiltered. Besides, imagining you pregnant with his child wasn't a bad thought either. The tip of his dick started to stretch you, it hurt, it hurt like nothing had ever hurt before. Why was it you wondered? Was it because it was him? Because he was raping you? You didn't understand, your insides clenched and he used his thumbs to spread your walls and make his job easier. He was halfway in, he was halfway in and you felt so full, so stretched it was painful.

— I- I'm not sure if I can push it in further, my dear. You're so tight its almost painful. Could you relax for me now? I know you can, you're my good girl. — You breathed heavily, but knew resisting wasn't an option. Victims have a higher chance of survival if they comply, right? So you tried your hardest to relax, to think about other things. It seemed like an impossible task, not when all of him was invading your mind. Finally, your heard him groan and felt him bottom out. You convulsed, throwing your hips upwards and arching your back, thrashing in your restraints as you felt a mixture between pain and pleasure. You felt like you couldn't breathe, he took the gag away. He pressed his finger against your lips to hush you — Easy, easy. Nothing's gonna happen to you. Breathe with me, okay? I know you can do it. There you go, there you go. You're doing so well for me, baby love. You can keep being good for me, right? I know you can. Such a good girl, such a pretty girl. My good girl, my pretty girl. — As he talked the started moving, it wasn't as painful as before. It would be a lot more enjoyable if you had agreed to this, but it wasn't a nightmare. You felt dizzy, your head was spinning and you were crying as you moaned. He felt over the moon, he was blissful to have you like that. Impaled in his cock, trapped in his arms.

Forever, he could enjoy you like this forever.

hope you enjoyed this!!

have a great day/night

TAGGING: @pasteldaze @shmyek @imvivian @yukimutsu, @eroscastle

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[syn-synn3rs]

Some short of my Au lore (Hecatomb)

Notice of reference to sensitive topics such as death (you don't have to read it if you don't want to)

First, the shapes can die

Can be for:

•old •accidental • killed

•intentional • Provoked

The basic deaths I mean

But there are ways to tell if a form is dead and for how long:

-If their color changes to a grayer one, they die a few hours or days ago

- If this is not the case and they are completely gray in color, they have been dead for 1 year or more.

× Shapes with a dark or fairly close color are not dead, but have a different way of distinguishing them

- Predator shapes (red, and pinks) and normally the preys (purple, blue, orange, etc) don't have much difference in the color when they die (at least once after a year since this) / don't mind me of this, this other thing I explain later, exactly the predator and prey part

×There is no way for a living shape to be gray or minimally gray without being dead

-Clearly the dead shapes have no way of moving since their systems (nervous and muscular) can no longer function. It can also smell very bad.

Now some examples of these cases..

First light color shapes ( One pink and one blue)

PINK shapes:

Using my form of Fox for the example of light pink shapes during decomposition

You can see in the first days of death, they present a slight change of color and go for one more gray

And in more than one year of death they are now totally grey and now there's no more pink color in the skin

OTHER shapes (I used Blue in the two):

The same thing happens in this one as in the bright pink one, so let's skip that explanation

Using my form of logic gatekeeper for this too

Now, dark color shapes (one red and one blue)

This is a bit of the reference of one of my OC's

You can see he has light lines but that doesn't matter in the example, that lines disappear when is dead that's why I'm going to skip them

The dark tone of the skin in the first days of dead get in a saturated bright color that is not even normal in a bright shape too

And then, it again turns to a gray color but in this case this process is longer, it is after 2 to 3 years that they take this color due to the large amount of melanin in their body, it will take a long time for all traces of this to disappear.

The same with the other dark colors:

In this case the bright color of the death gets a little more natural but you can assume it is dead because he's not moving and has the eyes open in an unnatural expression

Yeah, another level form

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

And yes, the blood in all shapes are like...

-If is a type of pink(red, blue, orange, yellow, green, white) the blood is pink (red, blue, orange, yellow, green, white)

In theory it is the color of its race

Well that's all, I wanted to put this before starting to continue with page 8 and finishing the prologue (there's still a little bit left for that)

Yes, a lot of text, I know

[onsunnyside]

So while stepdad!aus aren’t my cup of tea I will posit the question to the group….

Isn’t Lloyd Hansen a very stepdad type of guy that gets into the family for some work purpose but ends up walking away with you? He’s just giving the vibe 😳

dear goodness… all holy beings look away

𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 | stepdad!Lloyd Hansen x reader

𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 | age gap, stepcest, possessive behaviour, smut - minors dni, unprotected sex (p in v), daddy kink, spitting, lots of cum, breeding kink, overstimluation, p*ssy slapping, finger sucking, some praise, dumbification, degradation, dacryphilia, smidge of tear licking, squirting, creampie(s). 

𝗪/𝗖 | 1510

🍆 𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲? 𝐒𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲… 𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲? 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

“T-Too full,” you try to get away, clawing at the bed sheets as his thick, red tip prods at your creamy hole, “can’t—not again.”

“You can,” Lloyd spits on your cunt as if you weren’t already a wet, sticky mess. His head traces up and down your slit, paying extra attention to your sensitive clit. “Remember? You promised me a special gift for Father’s Day.”

Through blurry vision, you spot the handmade card and photo album on his nightstand. That was the gift you spent weeks making, between fussing (and failing) with the card multiple times, and collecting and arranging the perfect album of your stepfather, Lloyd has been in the back of your mind in more ways than one. 

The gift wasn’t your idea, it was your mother’s. She wanted Lloyd to feel welcomed to the family despite it all being business, just a marriage between two of the city’s most influential people for security, power and status. 

She wanted him to feel at home and ultimately, like he belonged. And to do that, she wanted you to be a sweetheart, to create and gift it to him yourself. 

“He’s your stepfather and the reason we aren’t back in that terrible place again.”

You know she didn’t think he’d fuck you in their shared bed. 

“Remember when you used to avoid me? Go out whenever I was home, I heard you even wanted to skip the wedding.” He whispers in your ear, the low creamy tone makes you melt. “Thought you hated me—now look at you, taking my cock like a good girl.” He presses on your stomach, pinning you down as he pounds into your sloppy cunt. “So full of my cum, you gonna let me fill you up again, sunshine?”

“Didn’t hate you…” You trail off to a moan as he kisses your jaw, slowly working down your neck. 

“Well, you didn’t like me either.” Lloyd murmurs against your skin, groaning as your legs wrap around his hips and pull him deeper. “Fuck—you were such a daddy’s girl, huh? Didn’t want me taking his spot?” 

He wasn’t wrong. You weren’t sold on the newest addition to your family, especially so soon after your parents divorce and your father’s arrest. Regardless of how grateful your mother, and the rest of your siblings were, and Lloyd’s reputation and wealth, this new man would never amount to your father. 

But as your mother stated, you needed the label, protection, and image. 

She was a woman who never faltered, even with the rumors of her cheating husband, and his untimely arrest for fraud. She will stand unwavered, and unaffected by the publicity. 

She remains steady with resolve, and will happily marry another high status man within a few months. Even if that man happened to be far worse than your father, neck deep in shady businesses and bad things. To the public, Lloyd was a clean, sophisticated CEO who was the perfect replacement for your cheating and lying father. 

Right now, he’s your stepfather fucking you into the bed he shares with your mother, pumping you with another load while you squirt all over his length. He doesn’t stop or slow down, if anything, the oversensitivity makes him more ravenous. He loves watching you tremble on his cock, caught between begging for a break and pleading for more. 

Your arms shoot out, yanking him down for a messy kiss full of clashing teeth and warm breaths. “Wanted you so badly. Please—don’t stop.” You moan, twitching under him when he pulls out, plugging you with the heavy tip before ramming forward. 

With every thrust, your head brushes the headboard. Lloyd fucks his cum into you, forcing you to take the previous loads and his fat girth, he wants to mark you from the inside out. Your cries are music to his ears, he wishes he could watch his cum dribble out around his dick, and smear down your ass to the once-clean sheets. But, he doesn’t want to move, this position with your breasts against his chest, your fingers digging into his shoulders, and your pulsating walls milking his cock—if he had a choice, he’d never move. 

“I know, your new daddy knows, baby.” He coos, lowering his body until his balls touch the filthiness between your thighs. He’s pressed to the hilt, you can practically feel him in your guts. With slow grinds, he watches as you sink into the mattress, small hiccuping breaths escape your parted lips. “Poor baby, those college boys don’t know how to fuck you. They don’t know how to stretch out this little pussy, make you a stupid mess—bet they leave you high and dry.” 

You can’t do anything but take his pounding, tears trailing down your face as he rams into your spot. Your whole body tenses, and your cunt sucks him deeper, hungry for more despite there being no room left. Squelching noises bounce off the walls and make you cover your face, weeping into your hands as he splits you apart. 

He leans back, and between your fingers, you watch his abs flex and his neck tense. A guttural groan rumbles from within his chest, a stark contrast to your blubbering of daddy, daddy, daddy. Lloyd moves your hands and brings one to his mouth, sucking your fingers and swirling his tongue. 

“You’re going to come for me again.” 

You immediately shake your head, but make no movements to escape, all too lost in the pleasure. Your hand is pulled from his mouth soaked with his salvia, and as if in slow motion, you watch him bring it to your cunt—and that’s when you try to get away. 

Lloyd easily tugs you back, pounding harder and deeper. He’s rearranging your insides, pulling you to meet his thrusts, then reaching down to collect your cream that’s formed a ring around his base. He shoves his fingers between your lips, fucking your mouth as a mixture of your salvia and arousal drip from the corners of your lips. 

“Look at you, getting fucked from both ends. All that’s missing is something in your ass.” He hooks your knee over his shoulder, stretching your sore hole, and exposing yourself to the hot air. You can only imagine how filthy you look down there. “Slap your clit before I do it for you.” 

The next few moments have faded into one. Between his unrelenting thrusts shoving your sweaty body higher on the bed, and his demands of harder, and to spank your clit until it hurts—you fall over the egde again. 

“I know no one knows how to make you do that. That’s it, such a good girl for daddy.” He leans back, watching you squirt and cover his lower half in your release. Your whole body convulses as a silent mewl pours from your mouth, tears of pleasure and pain stream down your face. His thrusts have slowed into thorough grinds as sticky strings connect your most intimate parts. 

You allow him to move you as he pleases, dragging out your orgasm as it bleeds into another—you can barely breathe as he rubs your sore clit, his rough fingertips are cruel on your overworked button.

His face his inches away and blush blooms over his skin. “I’m going to leave your mother, and you’re going to come with me.” He promises, swooping down to kiss your tear-stained cheeks. Lloyd can’t reisst licking a few. “You’re going to be my little wife, and I’m going to fuck you like this everyday, fill this tight cunt with my cum, and you’re going to make me a real daddy.” 

His hips rail forward as you lay a limp mess, still crying as he pumps you full. His cum spurts along your sore walls, trying to find space but there isn’t any left, and it seeps out around his girth, leaking down your ass and his heavy balls. These sheets will never be saved.  

Then, the door downstairs opens, and your mother’s voice rings out. 

Lloyd pulls back with a smile, sweat brimming at his hairline. “Looks like it’s time to share the news, pumpkin.” He takes pride in your dazed expression, you probably can't even hear him now, let alone process his words. Slowly, he starts fucking his cum into you, desperate to knock you up for the final nail in the coffin of his marriage to your mother.

Wet noises seep into your foggy mind, playing dully in the background to your Lloyd-filled thoughts. He’s successfully fucked you stupid, and you’ve never felt so good. 

Your cunt is filled to the brim, his seed coating your core, marking you with his scent and presence. Each grind sends shocks throughout your body, your pussy is a pathetic mess—there’s no doubt that he’s got you pregnant already—and that brief realization shoves you deeper under the surface of pleasure. 

Lloyd groans as you start to meet his motion, although weak and stuttering, you silently tell him you want him too. “Or maybe, she should catch us, hm? Wouldn’t that be interesting?”

[lionizingheathen]

you are the best smut writer i’ve ever come across im literally speechless. can you write more about sirius fwb or maybe even regulus i will take anything you write omg.

That's such a compliment thank you so much.

Regulus Black x fem!reader

Giving Regulus a handjob

Warnings: Smut, Friends with Benefits, handjob, biting

Some people would really call your way of venting your frustrations odd, but you couldn't care less. None of them were getting to jerk Regulus off just because they asked, mostly because a lot of them would ask for too many strings. Regulus didn't like loose ends, relationships were loose ends... you didn't either. So fucking each other while just being friends? Best idea either of you could've had.

"Good boy, thank you for letting me do this." You murmured, feeling Regulus's fingers tangle in your shirt as he jerked his hips into your hand, one leg thrown over your lap as he whimpered. God, you would've done this sooner if you knew how fucking cute he looked when he got all desperate.

"Oh my god." Regulus gasped, biting down on your neck for a moment, making you yelp at the welcome pain as his fingers moved from your shirt to tangle into your hair. Tactile.

"Does that feel good?" You asked, and he nodded frantically, lifting his head to look at you. His brows were furrowed, eyes clouded with want... God, you could get used to this, it was a wonderful way to clear your head.

"So good... So good!" He whined, and you chuckled, feeling yourself beam a bit at his praise. He was so sweet.

"Well, you've earned it." He murmured, and Regulus gasped against you, biting further down your collarbone as you increased the pace on his cock. God, you wanted to ride it.

"Are you sure this won't... mess us up?" Regulus gasped, and you raised an eyebrow, placing your free hand under his chin to make him look at you. Where was that coming from?

"Are you going to let it?" You asked, and he looked at you like you were crazy.

"What? No!" He said, and you nodded. Exactly. It would be fine, it was always fine.

"Then we'll be fine. Just take this and calm the fuck down, Black." You insisted, increasing your pace again, making him whine as he thrust into your hand harder

"Okay... Okay..." Regulus whined, and you chuckled, shaking your head. God, he was fucking pathetic.

"So cute... are you getting close already?" You asked, and he whimpered, his head hanging back as he panted, his fingers twisting into the comforter. God, he was so fucking good...

"Shut up..." He groaned, and you let out a chuckle. He had so many tells... so many.

"That's a yes."

"Feels so good." He sighed, breathing heavily as you flicked your thumb over the tip, making him jump. So fucking cute.

"Good boy. You're doing so well." You praised, watching as his cheeks flushed deeper.

"I... I'm getting close." He sighed, and you grinned, kissing up his neck, sucking a mark beneath his ear, making him shiver. God, he was so sensitive.

"Yeah? Gonna cum for me?" You asked, and Regulus nodded, leaning forward to bite down your chest, sucking one of your nipples into his mouth, causing a pleasant amount of pain as you shivered before he pulled back.

"Soon... Fuck, Y/N!" He cried, shaking his head as he burrowed his face into your neck again, trembling into you.

"You're doing so well."

"Oh my god..." He shuddered into your hand, cumming all over it before he collapsed back on the bed. "Fuck." He groaned, and you cast a cleaning charm on your hand. He did so fucking good.

"You did a great job." You said, and he grinned, placing his forehead against yours as he started to ease you down onto the bed, hanging above you, just out of reach. God, he was so pretty...

"Thanks." His hand moved down, tracing their way onto your thigh, onto your cunt, making you jump. "Could I-." There was a banging at the door. Fucking shit. You pushed Regulus off of you and straightened up, trying to straighten out your hair.

"Fuck, who the hell could that be?" You groaned, and Regulus stood up, trying to walk past you. No, bad idea, he hadn't even pulled his pants up.

"I can get it-." You pulled him back to the bed and stood up, leaning down to give him a lingering kiss.

"Your cock is out, I can get it." You murmured, and Regulus glanced down and nodded, looking nervous.

"Right..." You walked over, opening the door, revealing Barty and Evan, both looking around you, trying to see Regulus.

"Is Regulus in there?" Barty asked, and you blocked the door. Fuck no. You were not letting them see Regulus when he was waiting for you to come back to bed.

"He's... currently unavailable, but he is in here. Do you need to tell him something?" You asked, and Evan glanced at your face, your disheveled appearance, and his face lit up as he understood.

"Oh. Oh. Uh... No, it's not that pressing." Evan said, and Barty looked at him like he was fucking crazy before turning back to you and trying to push into the room.

"What? Yes it is-." Evan stomped on his foot, glaring over at him.

"We're leaving! Sorry, have a good night." He said, and you nodded, closing the door slowly.

"Okay..." You turned to Regulus, rolling your eyes as you walked over to his bed. "Your friends are freaks." He raised an eyebrow, leaning back on his palms.

"You're one of my friends." Regulus reminded you, and you nodded. Yeah, that was half the reason you said it... obviously you were a fucking freak, you were jerking off your best friend.

"I stand by my statement." You said, and he chuckled, shaking his head as he wrapped his hand around your wrist.

"Whatever. C'mere, I can return the favor." Regulus pulled you onto his lap, kissing you deeply, but you eased him back. He needed to take a moment, to breathe and to recover... and then you'd let him do whatever the hell he wanted.

"Rest a moment, first. I'm not going anywhere." You promised, and Regulus sighed, laying back on his bed with a wide smile, his eyes closing. God, he looked so beautiful...

[moo-nstone]

ASTRO OBSERVATIONS [part 5]

— people with jupiter in the 8th may experience an “abundance” of traumatic experiences throughout life, often relating to death; these are the people who truly feel like everyone they love ends up dying. at their worst, they can become desensitized to death— jupiter is ruled by sagittarius, a sign known for being in denial when in difficult situations in favor of optimism. these natives can pretend like nothing actually happened, or minimize the situation in their head so that they don’t have to face it.

— okay this might be a weird one... like, you know in asoiaf when arya was walking through the streets and was always like “i’m as quiet as a shadow”? that’s literally the energy of someone with planets in the 12th house/chart ruler in the 12th house. these people are so stealthy. they’re able to move so quietly and without anyone noticing, both literally and figuratively. on one hand, they’re very quiet about their plans and ambitions to the point where other people only find out when they’re achieving success over it; on the other hand, they just. don’t like making noise while walking idk bitch you’ll only see me coming when i’m right beside you, i even get paranoid that i’m breathing too loud and that other people will hear 

— people with moon aspecting mars can be incredibly impulsive when they feel hurt or triggered. yall need to be careful with doing things in the heat of the moment that you know you’ll regret later... but in the moment, you feel so hurt that it clouds your rational side. please be more self-aware about this because you may make decisions that will directly affect you for the worse in the future 

— people with leo mars ft. constantly asking you for pictures... about anything. they just wanna SEE LMFAO THEY DON’T CARE WHAT IT IS THEY’RE SEEING. you just got ready to go out? “send pics of your makeup and your full outfit”. you’re waiting in a long boring line to get the covid vaccine? “send pics of the line”. your mom baked cake? “send pics of the cake”. plus they send so many random pictures while texting, it’s their special love language

— having moon conjunct moon/venus in synastry feels insane. you tell them something you’ve been through, and they’re immediately like “that happened with me as well.” it doesn’t even have to be something grand, sometimes just very specific things you thought were particular about you. the amount of understanding that comes with this aspect in synastry can feel very new and intense especially if you’re used to seeing yourself as the “odd one out”, used to feeling isolated in your experiences 

— people with pluto in the 1st house often feel the need to erase “traces” of their existence, for example deleting messages that they sent people, deleting all of their social media posts. they can feel anxious and paranoid about other people having access to their past self, even if the past self in question is from, like. a week ago 

— people with chiron in the water houses (4th/8th/12th) might’ve suffered bullying to the point where they repress their memories. a lot of their memories of their school years may feel foggy if they were bullied in those years

— also. people with chiron in the 8th house may feel as though they’ve been punished for wanting to experience intimacy. it’s like, the people who were supposed to be the closest to them – for example, their sibling or something – were the ones who hurt them the most. 

— people with mercury-neptune aspects and strong pisces/neptune energy in their birth chart might struggle with only remembering things when they’re right in front of them. you should keep things in your peripheral vision to remind you of reality, especially when it comes to feelings— so that you won’t start getting lost inside your own head. like... keep the letters your friends wrote you by your bedside table so you can read them every time your brain starts convincing you that you’re not loved. keep the gifts you’ve been sent on display in your bedroom wall, or sentimental material things that remind you of past happy experiences.

— earth placements and their thing for asmr... omfg. it’s like they’re always looking for things to up their sensory experience/sensitivity. like, earth signs are the ones most connected to worldly experiences so they feel so soothed with the whole asmr experience: just hearing someone gently whispering or tapping on/scratching things calms them down and helps them fall asleep. they love the tingles it’s heaven for them

— moon-saturn aspects might hold and caress themselves while they sleep because their parents never did. yes i woke up and chose violence <3 your secret is NOT safe with me 💋

— while we’re on the topic of sleeping, a majority of the pisces moons i know need to sleep while hugging something, at least a pillow. they can’t just not hug something while they sleep, it’s very instinctive for them. anyways if any pisces moon needs a pillow to hold, i volunteer as tribute 💋

— virgo placements feel sososo soothed by hearing their cats purr. thinking about how my virgo placement friends are always the ones who send me videos of them petting their cats... and then i get soothed by how soothed they feel. it’s a win win situation, if you have virgo placements it’s hereby your duty to send me a video of you petting your cat while they purr. right now. GO

— people with gemini in the 3rd house might have shaky movements of the hands when other people look at them doing things. very specific i know but the third house rules hands and gemini is a sign that has somewhat of an anxious, twitchy quality to it. on the other hand, people with capricorn in the 3rd house (scorpio risings, using whole signs) have the steadiest hands i’ve ever seen lol their movements ooze confidence, these bitches know how to make you feel as thought they know exactly what they’re doing

— people with venus in the 1st house ft. altering their pics with photoshop and hating posting selfies without filters because they never feel like their appearance is good enough. stop it. you don’t need to always look your best and especially not if your ‘best’ isn’t even what you actually look like. also... don’t even think about making self-deprecative jokes about your appearance. next time i find one of yall saying “ahaha im not bad for a 5 without talent” i’m squishing your head between 2 pieces of toast and calling you an idiot sandwich. you’re BEAUTIFUL 

— having venus in the 3rd house in composite with someone? do you mean calling each other the absolute ugliest nicknames in the most endearing way? 

— leo deals with themes of the ego, and it seems that leo placements often struggle with attracting narcissistic people into their life... leo suns/mercuries can be raised by loud, overbearing, narcissistic parents who see their kid as an extension of themselves and who teach the kid to always be very supportive and caring towards them or else they’ll deny them of words of affirmation-- either by insulting them to shatter their self-esteem or simply never complimenting the kid back. leo moons/mars/venus tend to attract narcissistic partners who only care about serving their own emotional needs and ignore the ones of their partner, and who feed off of their supportive and giving nature. which is why leo placements really need to watch out for being gullible, naïve and dismissing the red flags because my god, you be falling for some shady people. 

— people with personal planets in the 12th house/chart ruler in the 12th house might feel like they can’t let go of their past life— they may dream of memories, people or places from another life. it’s like they can’t detach from it, and even if they can’t directly remember their past life, it’s like they feel it in their bones. also, they might’ve felt... estranged from their family ever since childhood; there may have been feelings of being unable to emotionally connect to their (often, distant) parents, and they might’ve even wondered if they were adopted because of how different they felt to the rest of the family. 

— okay so, a thing that people with saturn in the 3rd house need to look out for is mentally checking out of conversations while they’re still happening. these people can detect when they’re being manipulated really fast and their way of dealing with it can be to immediately shut down, to grow cold and silent and not even bother answering when you’re expected to respond. and, like, that’s great when someone starts screaming at you or being insulting/trying to coerce you into shit, but take notice if you find yourself shutting your loved ones out as soon as they say anything that triggers you. don’t simply detach from them, communicate what’s wrong

— aries placements, ESPECIALLY aries suns and moons, value generosity so much and they get so turned off by stingy ppl who don’t share with others, especially when others need it. like.. if you’re hanging out in a group with them and someone asks for a bite of your food because they have no money and you say no... espect them to never respect you. ever. 

— people with libra placements use soooo many adjectives to describe things. something can’t just be beautiful, it has to be DIVINE and CELESTIAL and INTOXICATING. they can be so expressive god it’s so fcking funny 

— capricorn placements HATE asking others for advice because they think no one knows better than them (and they’re not wrong, lol). when they truly care for someone, they might ask the person for advice simply as a sign that they respect, trust and value their judgement. even if they don’t plan on taking it LMFAO 

— people with mars in a water sign can have this terrible habit of expecting other people to guess what they want. and then they get passive agressive when you don’t instinctively feel what it is they want... and when you ask them “do you want this?”, they go like “FINALLY. i thought you’d never get there”. stop it. i know that you want people to understand you in a way that transcends words, but you can’t expect people to read your mind and then get disappointed when they don’t, thinking “oh if they loved me that much then they would’ve known that i really want chipotle for dinner :(” GIRL WHAT. COMMUNICATE YOUR NEEDS  

[isaspsp]

💋💫Crimson Lips 💫💋

A Lady never leaves a mark.

Unless she wants to ~

Edit: I found the original comment I had along with this piece!!! So under the cut it goes. Enjoy the reding, if you dare.

This piece is fanart for Monochromatic's "Crimson Lips"

I have a lot to say about this piece. Firstly, I have a hard time picking favourites most of the time. I don't have a favourite food. I don't have a favourite color. I don't have a favourite music genre. I don't have a football team. I do have a favourite number! I don't have a favourite author. But I believe that last part has been surely rectified by now. I guess I can say that I've dedicated so luch time to doing fanart for this one author, that they can, indeed, be considered my favourite author. Then we are taken to this piece. One more fanart. Of an ABSURDLY amazing story. It might be the bias that it is from my favourite author, and someone I have the honor to call friend even. (Mono, btw is the author of the books for my two AMVs, so I'm quite the fan) But really, it's an amazingly written story I urge you to read. Reminder that the fic is rated teen, but it deals with sensitive topics.

Now onto the piece: This piece took an ABSURD amount of time. Like. I think it officially topples any of my previous records. But I don't know exacly how long it took. If it were up to me (and it is), I'd say it took like, maybe 6 hours? (It didn't, it was a lot more) I really wonder what sort of trance this piece had over me. I finished it in about 5 days-ish? I made the rough thumbnail on day one; 40% of the frame on day two; finished the frame, sketched the characters and blocked in all of them in day three; Rendered 75% of the characters day four; Finished rendering and other details on the morning of day 5. Today! That might seem reasonable enough. But here's the thing. I worked day 3 and 4 all day solely on this piece. From 8am to 11pm. ALL DAY. AND I DIDNT NOTICE I SPENT ALL DAY WORKING ON THIS ONE PIECE. I didn't even open another drawing's file. If you're familiar with csp's time-lapse feature, know that a two character portrait usually amounts to a 2 minute video. A piece that I'd usually spend 4 hours on, amounts to 2 minutes. This piece has a ten minute time-lapse. So I'd wager that I spent… at least 20 hours on this piece. Which feels so wrong. It's a beautiful piece sure. I love it immensely. But it feels wrong. It doesn't feel like it would need that much time to be completed? It doesn't have a conplex background, it doesn't have challenging Lighting, the characters don't interact directly, there isn't so.e frame perspective going on. So I don't know what made this piece take this long.

Let's gather what could've made this such a long piece.

I didn't rush A SINGLE PART OF THIS PIECE. Which contributes to why It took so long. I ALWAYS rush some part of a piece. Not necessarily in big ways, but maybe a rushed element. In this piece, the only thing I settled for was the border/frame/background. And even then, I say "settled" for because I did put a lot of care in it, but it was okay with it not being perfect.

I'm not THAT used to drawing and consequently painting humans. Or humanoid creatures. The reason why I draw more antro than human is because I'm SO terribly horrible with faces. Now, you don't see all the thrown away sketches from years past. I think a lot of that stemed from me not knowing how I wanted to go about stylizing them. When I started drawing pony, I had a very small pool of inspirations, and I did a shit ton of tracing (much before I ever started posting on the internet), so I didn't have much - or any at all -pressure to find a style. Now it's different. I'm very proud of my art. I've convinced myself that I don't have time for self doubt. This is the one and only hobby I'll not ever allow myself to drop. I've dropped knitting, soap carving, reading, swimming (which I couldn't to much in the first place), but art has been the one consistent hobby I've had. My self doubt will have the rip my heart away before it gets rid of my love for my own art. But then humans. I love my art, but then again, I can dislike my work still. And because my horizons are so much broader than they were when I started, I have so many options… too many options. Humans are difficult to draw because they are so fundamentaly different from all the animals I've drawn. They are us. Humans, there is so much more nuance that you have to capture to make them feel real. It's a hard balance to achieve. There are so so so many ways to stylized humans, from more goofy, to more simple and concise, to graphic to hyper realistic (aka barely any stylization). And again, I' bad at picking favourites. So then come furries, anthros. The nice middle ground of humanoid, but still familiar with the animal bits. And with anthro, you can choose how humanoid they'll be, so they were a good way to ease myself into drawing humans! And it worked. But I fear it might've worked too fast. Or at least too pointedly. Too concentrated in this one piece.

It feels like someone else drew this piece.

I think the best way to analyse your art looking for ways to improve it is by imagining you didn't draw it. It's easier to pick out the weaknesses of something you don't have emotional connection with. After I'm done with analyzing, I can switch back to myself and love a piece for what it is. Again, I need to be proud of my art.

But this piece is almost foreign in quality.

It's supposed to be heavily inspired by the art nouveau movement. I think that is pretty clear, so naturally, it's a far reach from my usual style. I don't thing that the realism is the characters' proportions is a staple of that style, more so the rendering, shape language and background style are what clue you into that style. So I could've done any stylization for the characters and it's work. At least it would've been good enough for me. But then again. Humans are a pain to draw. And making them anywhere other than human would destroy the intent of the original text, so that wanst an option. So I started drawing. I honetsly don't remember most of my sketching process nor decisions. Only by looking at the time-lapse that I see what decisions I took. Again. Foreign. I think the only piece of human art I have similar in style tot his one is those humans portraits I drew of my OCs, Beau and Bishop. But even then, this feels… different. Not to count that the rendering technique is something I, again, have never done before! This was mostly a combination of hard pencils smoothened out my blender brushes. I usually just bland with the painting brushes themselves, so that was a new technique for me. Again foreign.

In conclusion. I don't know if it's a good thing that this piece feels that foreign. But I know I drew this and that I'm proud and completely in love with it, and I hope you all are too 💖

[radiant-reid]

Comfortable

A/n: this could unintentionally be a part 2 to Tough day

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Genre: a whole lot of fluff

WC: 1.2k

CW: Nothing (??)

"Hi," Spencer murmured, raspy-voiced from the night of sleep he'd just had. Possibly the first adequate amount he'd had in at least a week.

He looked the epitome of soft. Long curls messily tumbling over his forehead. His barely-there facial hair had grown as much as it could in the week she hadn't seen him, which wasn't a lot. High cheekbones, sharp jawline like something holy created by Michelangelo. He didn't leave a chance for any other man to be as beautiful. And, if his pretty face wasn't enough, his personality made it a completely uneven playing field.

Y/n could unquestionably admire him for the rest of her life. And it still wouldn't be long enough.

"Hi, baby boy," Y/n returned, a smile spreading over her face. It was the smile reserved for him. "Are you feeling okay?" She asked, tracing his finger over his pointed features.

Spencer had been considerably upset after his last case. Tears starting the moment he walked in the door and not stopping for an hour afterward.

Spencer nodded slightly. How could he not feel better? His girl was wrapped up in his arms. She would have assumed he wanted it the other way, but Spencer needed to feel her in his arms. It was irrational, but he liked knowing she was safe. He needed to feel her body on top of his, her body weight acting like an anchor to keep him grounded.

"Yeah, thank you," Spencer spoke gently. Y/n was mesmerized by the rising and falling of his chest when he spoke. She still wasn't able to take her glance away from his deep-seated brown eyes.

Y/n held his face in her hands, moving higher, so she was lying fully on top of him. "You never have to thank me, Spence. I'm always here for you." She reassured him, knowing the comfort was something he needed so he could stop thinking about what he'd had to see in the prior days.

She delicately traced down his perfect nose. Giggling when he scrunched it, which made the side of his lips twitch upwards. Pure happiness.

Still, Spencer felt guilty. Y/n was always there for him, no matter what was going on in his life. He couldn't even imagine how terrified he'd feel if their roles were reversed. Seeing Y/n come back from cases heartbroken would feel like a nightmare. Spencer didn't understand how she did it.

"Y/n." He started, his new serious tone drawing Y/n's features into a frown. "I worried I don't tell you how much I love you." Despite being able to memorize them, Spencer was never good with his own words. He could recite hundreds of love poems off by heart, but none of them expressed how he felt. "And I do love you. So much. I'm just not good at showing it." He claimed.

Y/n could see the guilty look on his face. She could tell he felt like he didn't deserve any of the good things in his life, despite all the terrible things he'd gone through.

On top of that, he always felt inexperienced. He'd never seen a happy relationship growing up, and it was something he couldn't learn out of a textbook, so he had no clue if he was doing it right.

"Spencer, honey, you tell me more than enough." She assured him, holding his face in her palms. "And you show me just as much. Seriously, I've never felt more loved in my life. I can tell you're worried you're not doing it right, but you've never done anything wrong." She comforted him, stroking his cheeks. It was unbelievable to her that Spencer ever felt he didn't show her enough love. "I see and hear how much you love me all the time. I can physically feel it." She told him, reaching down to place her hand on his heart.

Spencer nodded at her sadly. "Okay, because I do love you." He continued.

"I love you too, baby. I'm going to make us breakfast, my love," Y/n announced, not particularly wanting to leave Spencer for a second but hungry.

Spencer shook his head. "Wait, kiss, please." He adorably whined out his request.

Y/n couldn't say no to someone looking as cute as he did, leaning forwards to gently place their lips together. It was sweet, sensitive and full of nothing but love. Everything Spencer needed. Everything Y/n needed.

"Shower and then come to the living room." She gently instructed as she rolled off him.

Spencer nodded, moving so he could get out of their warm bed. "What are you making?" He turned back to ask her.

"Your favorite, of course. French toast." She answered.

Spencer had one last request. "Can you do the thing?" He asked shyly.

Y/n smiled at how adorably childish he was. "Of course." She agreed.

He insisted it made him feel better when she cut the french toast with Halloween cookie cutters so he could eat the little pumpkins, ghosts, witch hats, and bats.

Once breakfast had been eaten, it was Spencer's choice of activity. Naturally, that meant reading.

"Can you read it to me?" Spencer asked, holding his book out to her.

Y/n nodded, smiling at how cute he always looked. "Of course." She agreed, taking the book and sitting on the couch, holding open her arms so they could hug.

Spencer shook his head. "Can I braid your hair?" He shyly asked, wanting to be as close to her as possible.

"Yeah." Y/n was more than happy to let him. His soft, gentle fingers did it better than she did anyway. She moved so Spencer could sit behind her on the couch, his height making it easy.

Spencer glided his thin fingers through her strands of hair, carefully braiding it, making sure it wasn't too tight. Y/n read aloud his book, trying not to fumble over any of the big words.

"You know, you could read this so much faster than me?" Y/n commented after finishing a chapter.

She couldn't see, but Spencer shrugged. "I like this, though." He simply told her. Y/n figured the answer was good enough and kept reading. "Alright, all done." He stated, placing a kiss on her hairline.

Y/n ran her finger over the braid. "Wow, it's amazing, Spence. Thank you." She complimented, tilting her head up to look at him.

Spencer smiled at her. "Can it be my turn now?" He timidly requested.

Y/n was happy to oblige. She loved all the hairstyles he had, but the benefit of his long hair was that she could braid it. "Yeah, you are going to have to sit on the floor, though." She told him. "And you have to read."

Spencer quickly scrambled to sit on the floor, taking the book from Y/n. "But I like listening to your voice." He commented with a pout.

Y/n let out a giggle as she parted his hair. "Ah, so there's the real reason." She accused.

Spencer looked up at her like a dear caught in the headlights before smirking. "Maybe." He spoke.

"Okay, stop being cute and read." She instructed, spinning his head back around so start braiding his long brown locks.

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[inkykeiji]

little bit of poison in me

characters: dabi | todoroki touya, takami keigo | hawks

genre: smut and angst

notes: okay FINALLY!! very loosely inspired by tag you’re it by melanie martinez!! uhh dabi’s a drug dealer, keigo’s in his third year of university and a track star, reader’s in her first year of university. please, please pay attention to the warnings below! if keigo’s your comfort character and you cannot handle him being physically abusive and a drug addict, then you might wanna sit this one out! promise he’ll be painted in a more sympathetic light in part two. | aaah dedicating this to @rat-suki​, because ur the only one who’s actually known the details of this fic since november, and because i put a lil something inspired by new moon in there for u ehehe <333 | title credit: tag you’re it by melanie martinez

warnings: 18+, noncon/dubcon, physical abuse, drug use & abuse + graphic depictions of addiction, mindbreak, overstimulation, manipulation, lowkey yandere vibes (which will get worse), daddy kink, a brother a lil too obsessed with his sister + questionably close sibling relationship, generally toxic relationships (possessiveness, jealousy), rough sex, semi-public sex, cumplay/cum feeding, minimal prep, degradation/dumbification, choking, kinda brat taming???

words: 14.8k

synopsis: 

“Do you wanna come home with Daddy, princess?”

He’s caging you between his body and the murky convenience store window as he asks, both palms pressed flat against the grimy glass.

No. You shouldn’t. You know you shouldn’t, can almost hear your brother’s voice in the back of your mind telling you not to. But you’re too enticed in sapphire to care, drawn into pretty, almost glittering blue fire, letting the flames lick your skin as you immerse yourself in it, deeper and deeper and deeper, and allowing it to wrap itself around you, to consume you, to knock the very breath out of you as you gaze into it.

“Okay,”

It’s well past midnight, but the moon is still hanging high in the sky, illuminating the dingy shopping mall parking lot, its reflection gleaming on the wet, cracked concrete. Breathless little laughs and squeals of surprise and pleasure ring out among the vast empty space, your own voice echoing around you.

“Gonna get ya, baby,”

He’s chasing after you, legs longer than yours, faster than yours, mischievous little growls getting caught in his chest as you daintily leap away from him, just out his grasp again, the tips of his fingers grazing the soft linin of your dress.

“No!” you giggle, pushing your burning thighs to keep running just a bit longer, propelling you forward.

But he’s getting closer and closer with each pound of his boots against the pavement, encroaching on you more and more with each tiny gasp exhaled through your parted lips.

Eventually, he catches you, like he always does, large hands wrapping around your hips as strong arms pull you backwards against a solid chest. You’re both panting, chests heaving with exertion, bubbles of laughter escaping your throats.

“Tag,” he breathes, hot breath curling around the shell of your ear. “You’re it,”

His arms encircle you, holding you tightly, your own arms covering his, little fingers digging into the skin of his forearms almost possessively as he uses his strength and bodyweight to guide you towards the car—a 1959 Cadillac Eldorado Biarritz that runs like shit and guzzles gas like no tomorrow. But it’s pretty, and he loves it, with all its chrome and argyle blue, glittering in the moonlight.

“You’re being bad, princess,” the words are mumbled against the skin behind your ear, and you can feel the smirk on his lips. “Good girls don’t run away from their Daddies like that,”

And he says the word with so much disdain, cruel and mocking, making you feel sick for liking it.

“Baaad girl,” he whispers, dragging the word out.

A tiny pout settles on your face, eyebrows knitting. “Am not,”

“Are too,”

“Am not,”

“You are,” he chuckles, pressing you against the damp metal of his car as you finally reach it, his body still draped over yours. “What? You gonna fight me on it?”

Squirming a little in his grasp, you turn to face him, a playful glint shining in your glassy eyes as you nudge your nose against his. “I just might!”

“Hah,” the breath of air washes over your face, scorching and sweet, a stark contrast to the humid, cool air surrounding you, causing your exposed flesh to break out into chills. “I’d like to see you try, dollface,”

“Oh, I’m sure you would,” you murmur, yelping when his fingers dig into the supple flesh of your ass through your dress, grabbing a healthy handful and squeezing in retaliation.

“Mmm,” he hums nonchalantly, pushing his forehead against yours, eyes nothing but gaping pupils outlined by a thin ring of sapphire. “You gonna show me?” his rough voice fades into a whisper, unblinking eyes holding yours steadily. Calloused hands are sliding up your thighs now, slipping underneath the thin material of your dress and taking the hem with them.

“N-Not here,” you breathe, trying and failing to pull back from him, eyes widening in alarm as you feel his fingers hook in the waistband of your panties.

“Yes, here,” he responds, voice smooth as velvet as soft lips drag along your neck, sharp teeth sinking into your flesh like a hot knife slicing through butter.

Panic is beginning to rise in your chest, your throat closing up, and you choke a little on your words, shaking your head frantically. “Please, Dabi, no, we could just—”

“Wow, you really want me to bruise that pretty ass of yours,” he smirks, cutting you off and pulling back to gaze at you lazily, lips glimmering with saliva.

“No, I—”

“Especially with how much you’re saying no today,” he tuts his tongue in disapproval. “Such a bad girl; a silly, little, stupid, bad girl,”

Each word is punctuated with a sharp slap to your scantily clad ass, each bringing with them a sharp sting that you can hear, echoing out among the parking lot.

“Not bad,” you whimper, eyes shutting tightly against the familiar burn of tears. “Not bad, j-just wanna—”  

“Wanna what?” he teases, voice mocking yours as his palm collides with your ass again. “Huh?”

“W-Wanna—Want you to fuck me right,” you rush to say, the words exhaled as a singular huff of breath.

“Oh?” he pulls back slightly, eyes searching your face, his own features contorted with false concern. “Is that so?”

You nod quickly, eagerly, and he can see it in your eyes, how desperately you want him to buy your lie.

But you know he hasn’t the moment that trademark smirk returns to his face, mouth curling up at the edges as he leans forward, lips moving against your ear. “I think that’s a boldfaced lie, babygirl,” his voice is low, sinister, dangerous, traces of amusement sown into his tone. “I think it’s because you don’t want anyone to see how much of a little whore you truly are,”

“D-Dabi, please,” you whimper, vision blurry with tears as you paw at his jacket, pleading with him.

He thinks it’s so cute when you beg, his silence imploring you to continue, urgently rambling on in your quest to convince him.

“I-I want you to really fuck me; I want you to leave b-bruises all over my body, I want to feel you in my tummy, I want you t-to stuff me so full of cum that it goes to my brain and makes me stupid, please Daddy, I want—”  

Slim fingers wrap around your neck and squeeze, forcing a cry of surprise from your lips and effectively cutting you off. “I’m gonna make sure you remember those words, sweetheart,”

   ✰          ✰          ✰            

The thump of your own heart echoes in your ears as the Cadillac Eldorado thrums under your body, the leather sticking to the bare skin of your thighs.

“Open,” he demands, delivering a harsh slap to the thigh nearest to him, eyes never leaving the road as his foot presses down, car accelerating. Your thighs obey immediately, spreading as far as they possibly can in the cramped space, knees knocking against the door and center console box.

A rough hand, decorated with callouses and scabs, kneads the flesh once before sliding up, up, up, and then hooking in the elastic of your panties, Dabi spitting out a curse as he lets it snap back against your skin.

“Take those off,” he seethes, aggressively ripping his hand away from you as if he’s aggravated that you’re even wearing them at all. Your dress hitches up around your waist in your haste to obey, little fingers catching in the lacy material as your hips squirm, seatbelt cutting into your flesh, wiggling a little as you pull the dainty material down your legs.

He’s already holding his hand out expectantly and you press them into it, waiting for his fingers to close around the garment before taking your hand back. He feels them, rolling the fabric around in his palm, between his fingers, chuckling darkly as he chucks them over his shoulder a moment later, onto the dirty ground of the backseat.

Those were your favourite, but you know better than to say anything, forcing your expression to stay neutral, to keep your nose from wrinkling up in distaste.

“They’re wet, but not nearly wet enough,” he tsks as if he’s disappointed, hand finding your thigh again. This time, they part instantly, without any verbal prompting, hips pushing towards his palm as it skims the skin of your inner thigh.

“Now, I’m gonna play with this cute lil clit of yours,” he begins, fingers brushing the sensitive nub, words tumbling from his lips slowly, lazily, unhurried, as if you’re stupid, as if you need an ample amount of time for each word to sink in.

It makes your pussy throb, and the borderline malicious smirk that spreads across his face tells you that he felt it, too.

Speaking through his smirk, he continues in the same patronizing voice. “And you—you’re going to be Daddy’s good little girl and get nice and wet for him, so he doesn’t hurt his cock when he fucks you. Do you think you can do that for me, sweetheart?”

Yes Daddy, of course Daddy, anything for you, Daddy.

It’s torture in the most delightful way, coarse pads of his fingers just barely grazing your clit, just enough for you to feel it, just enough for you to want—no, need—more. Heat, thick and sticky, pools in the pit of your stomach, thighs straining to open impossibly wider, edges of the car’s interior digging into your knees as you desperately try to shift your hips, to press further into his touch, to evoke anything harder than these teasing, feathery touches.

Blunt nails sink into the tender flesh of your inner thigh, hard enough to make you yelp, entire body flinching from the sudden pain. “Big girls use their words,” he chastises, voice fading from a growl into a pleasant, light tone.

“Please, Daddy, I-I want more,” you whimper, hips still trying to catch your clit on his fingers, on his palm. “Touch me more,”

The hum that vibrates in his throat has your heart sinking, corners of your mouth tugging down as you blink against the sting of disappointment—you know that hum, know it all too well, know all of Dabi’s bizarre mannerisms at this point and what they mean for you. And that hum, the one that only lasts for a moment, the one that’s barely a noise at all, the one that doesn’t even sound like he’s considering anything, means no.

His eyes don’t leave the road in front of him, despite the fact that his car is going faster, and faster, and faster, whipping through the empty city streets, neon buildings and harsh florescent lights becoming nothing but a blur. And if it weren’t for the hard lump straining against the black denim of his jeans, you’d figure him disinterested; facial features relaxed, breathing normal, entirely unresponsive to the pathetic little noises he’s so effortlessly pulling from you.

It ignites a fire in your chest, blazing with the need to make him react, to make him pay attention to you.

Wearing your best pout, you arch your back a little, the action shoving your hips towards his hand again. “Daddy, Daddy,” you whine, low and needy in the back of your throat, looking at him with wide, pleading eyes. “Please, touch me more? Please, Daddy, I want it so bad, want your cock so bad, please, help me get wetter? Wanna be dripping for you, Daddy, I wanna be soaking for you,”

“Fuck,” he breathes, smirk growing into a full grin as he glances at you from the side of his eye. “Such a brat,” he shakes his head, through the grin is still present on his face as he finally presses two fingers against the swollen bud, rubbing slow, hard circles into it. “You better be drenched for me by the time we get home, you little bitch,”

   ✰          ✰          ✰            

Large hands are on your body as the two of you stumble up the stairs, nimble fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hips, obscene sucking and slurping amplified by the stairwell, bouncing back to your own ears, saliva slicked lips slipping and sliding together messily as teeth clack together, practically tripping over each other’s feet and fucking Christ he needs you, he needs you now, his cock hurts, goddamn it.

And you’d be lying through your teeth if you said you didn’t absolutely love it when he gets like this, all clingy and needy and desperate, hushed little whines catching in the back of his throat, fading from deep, rumbling growls as rough hands paw at you.

A sharp gasp is knocked from your chest as he slams you against the wall on the landing of floor three with such force that your head ricochets off the concrete, your resounding cry silenced by Dabi’s lips, tongue invading your mouth as he swallows your beautiful little noises of pain.

You can feel his cock pressed up against your hip, hot and hard and throbbing through the denim that conceals it as he grinds against you, fervent, eager, impatient.

That panic is bubbling up in your throat again, bitter and acidic and eroding, rendering your voice weak and frail as scabbed knuckles drag across your bare thighs, inching higher and higher.

“Da-Daddy, wait,”

“No,” he growls, biting down on your shoulder hard enough to break the skin. “I’m done waiting,” hands are rucking up your dress. “You made me wait that whole fucking car ride,” sharp hipbones keep your thighs spread. “I can’t wait any longer,” the clinking of his heavy belt buckle echoes throughout the stairwell, sending chills pebbling across your skin.

And then he’s forcing himself into you, shoving his cock into your tight little hole, a choked cry bouncing off the dirty white walls as your eyes squeeze shut, tears leaking from the edges.

The stretch is magnificent, little cunt aching as it sucks in his thick cock, and you swear you can feel the burning in your belly, little pinpricks of pain shooting through your gut.

“G-Gonna tear me in half,” you wail, head falling forward, forehead bumping against his.

“Shh, baby, Daddy’s got you,” a callous laugh leaves his lips after he spits out the nickname, the singular word filled with such derision it must sting his tongue. Large hands hoist you up, and your legs immediately latch around his waist, seeking comfort in the monster that hurt you.

“Daddy, Daddy,” Tears drip down your cheeks as you bury your face in his shoulder, the word escaping your lips in tiny half-sobs catching in your throat, little fingers curling against the worn leather of his jacket.

And he can’t help but soften a little as you weep into his neck, thinks it’s so cute that you need him so bad, your little stuttered breaths hot against his neck as you cling to him, reminding him that he is the only man that can make you feel like this; he is the only man that can make you cry while simultaneously finding solace in his embrace. It makes his blood surge, sends cinders searing up his spine, gives him a high better than any other drug every could, and he finds himself hushing you gently, twitching cock buried in your cute lil cunt, snugly pressed against your cervix.

“Okay, okay,” he’s saying as his hips begin to pump, slow and languid. “Quiet, Daddy’s gonna make it feel good, alright? Daddy’s here, Daddy’s gonna make it go away,”

The sweetest, airiest little mewls of Daddy, yes, Daddy, soak into the inky skin of his neck, sandwiched between uneven hitched breaths. He’s gaining speed with each thrust, though, working up a steady rhythm that has you practically bouncing on his cock, little wails of pain fading into whimpers of pleasure. The combination is dizzying, infecting your mind with a haze that is only Dabi, surrounded by him, immersed in him—glowing sapphire and burning hickory and spicy nicotine—unable to quell the little noises spilling from your throat, each one louder than the next with each bump against your cervix and drag against that spot.  

“That feel better, princess?” he breathes out, pausing just to readjust his grip on your ass—to angle your hips just right, chuckling at your selfish, needy whine—and then he’s drilling his cock into you, head pounding against the spot that has his name escaping your lips in high pitched squeals that break in your throat, heavy belt buckle clanking against the wall with each of his thrusts.

It sends sparks of mind-numbing pleasure burning through your abdomen, your chest, straight to your very core and collecting there, each spark adding to the growing fire that’s beginning to blaze, followed by intense spears of pain, slicing through your gut and down the muscles of your thighs, legs beginning to quiver as ankles hook tighter, tighter, tighter, the heels of your sneakers digging into his back dimples, trying to get him closer, closer, closer, desperately begging for more, more, more.

Yet it’s all so much, too much, please, Daddy—the harsh sound of metal colliding with concrete mingling with your pathetic whines and his panted breaths, rough whimpers catching deep in his chest, and you don’t think you’ve ever heard a more beautiful sound.

“C’mon, babygirl,” he gasps, pace never slowing, never faltering once, even though there’s glistening dewdrops of sweat decorating his hairline, inky strands beginning to stick to the skin of his forehead. “Be a good girl and cum for Daddy, cum before someone catches you being such a sweet little—God, Christ—a sweet little slut for me,”

And your cunt submits, would never dare to disobey a direct command from its master, from its owner, clenching around him as you cream all over his cock, a sharp cry ripping up your throat as your nails scrabble against leather clad shoulders.

A growl rumbles, deep and dark and dangerous in his chest, as his hips piston a few more times before they still, tips of his fingers digging into the flesh of your ass, branding his name in tiny blotches of navy and violet as his cock throbs, coating your insides with spurts of thick cum.

Head falling forward, his forehead collides with yours, chests heaving and breathing laboured. And he can’t help the little chuckle he huffs out as you wiggle your hips a little, eyes still closed as you rock in little motions against him, clit catching on his pubic bone.

Needy little bitch.

But he isn’t nearly done with you yet, because that desire, thick and sticky in the very pit of his stomach, only wants more, insatiable and voracious, desperate for more of your whines, more of your tears, more of your cunt.

You’re gonna make good on all those words you spewed in the parking lot, baby, he’s nearly snarling at you, cutting off your whiny complaints as he drags you up the final flight of stairs, stopping halfway to haul you over his shoulder with a huff and a deft slap to your ass, carrying you the rest of the way to his apartment.

“Dress, off. Now.” He orders as he throws you onto his mattress, pulling his shirt over his head, belt buckle jingling as he walks, still hanging undone.

And then he’s crawling over your naked body, lips attacking yours, smashing and smacking and slurping, a large hand wrapping around your wrists as he shoves his tongue into your mouth, laving over yours in slow, deliberate drags, pinning your wrists against the cold cracked drywall behind his nearly bare, minimalistic bed, squeezing hard enough to grind the bones together between a singular rough palm—a silent warning—and forcing a yelp from your throat into his.

“Don’t move them,” his lips mumble the command against yours before he sucks your bottom lip into his mouth, between sharp gleaming teeth that bite down hard, sinking into the soft flesh and refusing to release until he tastes copper, the tip of his tongue tracing the harsh indents left behind, licking at your lip once more before pulling away completely.

“I want you to leave bruises all over my body!” he mimics, voice absurdly high as lips skim the curve of your neck, tongue darting out to trace along your collarbones. “Isn’t that what you said, baby?”

But you can’t answer, too busy sucking on your now swollen lip, trying to soothe the incessant throbbing as metal stains your tongue. That’s disrespectful, you think you hear him growl into your unmarred skin before something sharp pierces your nipple, clamping down around it and tugging. A resounding cry tears through your throat as your body instinctually bows off the bed, pressing further into him, a muffled snicker vibrating against your chest before his tongue flicks, licks, slobbers, thick strings of saliva glimmering in the dim light as he pulls away, breaking and slapping against his chin.

“Answer me next time I ask you a fucking question,” The words are spit so harshly they slice into your skin, head nodding fervently before he’s even finished speaking, blinking the bleariness from your eyes. Smoldering sapphire holds your gaze for a moment, burning into your very soul—digging, prying, searching, scrutinizing, his breathing slow, calm, controlled with each deep rise and fall of his bare chest.

You aren’t sure what it is he’s looking for as he peers into the depths of your eyes, but you don’t dare let your gaze stray from his, don’t dare blink, don’t dare breathe until he breaks the spell, blinking once as his lips curl up into a wicked smirk.

“I’m gonna turn your body into a work of art,” he promises you, voice low and guttural, forcing thorns of ice up your spine as lips drag across your jaw.

And he does, paints little galaxies across your skin with his tongue and his lips, asymmetrical blotches of blues and greys and purples, ivory bones scraping against your flesh, signing his name into his masterpiece in deep, dark indents of crimson and violet.

It aches and it pulses and it stings, glittery trails of salt water staining your cheeks, tiny shimmering droplets clinging to your clumped, spiky lashes, adding the finishing touches on the greatest piece he’s ever created.

And it’s so pretty, you’re so pretty when you’re like this, baby, covered in navy and plum and carmine, and, fuck, it’s a shame you won’t stay like this.  

It seems he’s in a trance for a moment, in awe of his craftsmanship, of what he’s produced, breathing laboured as shining azure eyes drift over your body, slowly, purposefully, as if he’s memorizing every single nick, bite, scrape, bruise, burning the image into his brain forever.

His gaze floats back up to yours, holding it for a moment, pupils big and gaping and swallowing you whole—before something snaps, breaks, and he comes back to himself, remembers why he did it.

Narrowing slightly, his eyes darken, that sadistic smirk returning to his lips. And then he’s shoving his cock into you again, hard and leaking and the prettiest red you’ve ever seen, cute little cunt stretching around him for the second time tonight.

But little girls who act like brats deserve to get fucked like brats, he tells you in a snarl, slender fingers collaring your neck and squeezing slowly, slowly, slowly, crushing the column of your throat.

Everything’s beginning to grow hazy, vision sliding in and out of focus as those calloused hands continue to tighten, and tighten, and tighten. He looks like some sort of sick angel as he looms above you, nothing more than a shadow of sharp edges and smooth curves, inky spikes and glowing sapphire, haloed by the weak neon light that spills in through grimy windows. Jutting bones prod the soft flesh of your inner thighs, carving out a space just for them as his hips snap viciously, relentlessly, obstinately.

And it’s all overwhelming, overstimulating on every front, uncontrollable tears streaming from your eyes as you choke roughly on your own sobs, each one being forced from your chest by your Daddy’s harsh thrusts, only to get caught on the palm pressed to your airway, ears ringing from the slap of skin against skin overlapping those harsh words spit at you in his falsely saccharine voice.  

Aw, no, baby, wispy words caressing your cheek as they float by, eyes starting to roll back in your head. Don’t pass out on me, dollface. I want you awake when I fill your cunt with cum.

The pressure around your throat lets up just a hint, and you wheeze in air, a rush of cold flooding your body. You can feel it, that contrasting, familiar heat scorching the pit of your stomach, beginning to curl in on itself more, and more, and more with each pump of his hips, until it explodes, your body arching off the mattress, unintentionally pressing into the hand adorning your neck, restricting your air entirely.

The chuckle that leaves his lips as you choke yourself is dark, would send spears of ice slicing through your veins if you weren’t otherwise focused on trying to fill your lungs with air. Nothing leaves your mouth other than a few choked whines, barely more than a huff of light breath.

But his hips don’t slow, and he’s glaring down at you with parted lips and lidded eyes, pupils gaping, so large you’re unable to detect even the slightest hint of blue outlining them—nothing but big black orbs, absorbing everything in their vision, sucking everything from you, every hitched sob and soft whine and gorgeous wince, each time he pounds against your cervix.

And it’s how your looking up at him—with those gleaming, adoring eyes and that blissful, fucked out grin—that has him cumming with a shuddered f-fuck, forcing his eyes to stay open as he pumps you full of thick cum, desperate to catalogue every little expression that crosses your face, the way your eyes flutter slightly, the way your neck arches, the tiniest little moan slipping through chapped lips as his cock pulses inside of you.

You must pass out for a second, Dabi’s calloused palm lightly tapping against your cheek as he murmurs to you in that sinful, silky voice, sugared sentiments twining around your exhausted body.

Wake up, princess. Daddy isn’t done playing with you yet.

Words tumble past your lips in a mumble, though you aren’t quite sure what you’re saying—everything feels hazy, like you’re gazing through a thin cloud of smoke, and despite the fact that you can barely move, your body feels light, almost floaty in a way, entirely numb to the immense pain it has endured thus far.

Two fingers, coated in thick, gleaming cream, are thrust into your gasping mouth, tongue met with the salty, bitter taste of his cum. You cough around the sudden intrusion, immediately obey when he orders you to clean, sluggish tongue sliding up and lapping at and slipping between them, sucking the digits free of cum.

Good girl, he leans away and your heart flutters weakly at the praise, saliva slicked fingers dipping into your hole again to gather more.

“C’mon,” he breathes as he brings his fingers to your mouth again, sticky viscous glops collected on his fingers. They catch in the dim light streaming through the window, a unique mixture of pale moonbeams and hazy neon, cum almost glittering, almost pretty. “You wanted me so bad, didn’t you?” your head’s moving—nodding, you think, you can’t really tell, breathing shallow as your eyes belatedly follow his glistening fingers—and he smirks down at you. “Then eat my fucking cum,”

Lips part instantly, mouth falling open as your tongue lolls out, eyes drifting up to his and pleading mutely, begging for the substance—the very essence of him—and nearly moaning when he drags his fingers across the saliva coated muscle, curling and sucking his digits back into the heat of your mouth.

And he’s fucking high off of it all, pupils blown to hell, outlined by the thinnest ring of cobalt, barely detectable, visible only when it catches in the moonlight.

A lumpy pile of denim sits abandoned and bunched up near the end of the bed—he must’ve kicked his pants off at some point, though you don’t remember when—and his cock’s hard again, head brushing your inner thigh. It’s hard for you to tear your gaze from it, fleeting thoughts of stamina and impressive grazing through your mind, turning to smoke the moment you try to latch onto them.

He notices, of course—you’ve been staring at it for nearly a minute now, glazed eyes unblinking, soft little pants passing through barely parted lips. But it’s the way you’re staring at it—in the purest, unadulterated form of desire—that makes it jump, twitching a little against your thigh. You think you hear your Daddy breathe out a curse, think his rough fingers brush some hair back from your drenched forehead, think he says something along the lines of how much he fucking loves you, but in your dreamlike state, you can’t be sure.

Because then rough hands are on you, manhandling you as whatever trance he had fallen into yet again snaps once more.

“We’re gonna put that pretty, empty head of yours to good use!” he’s saying almost enthusiastically as he hoists your boneless body up, propping you up against his chest and securing you with a strong arm wrapped around your waist. “Whaddya think about that, hmm, princess? Want Daddy to use your little skull as his own personal cumdump? Huh?” lithe fingers squeeze your cheeks so hard your lips pucker up, a high-pitched whine getting caught in your throat. “That’s all it’s good for anyway, isn’t it?”

You try to nod, but all your head wants to do is flop back against his shoulder.

“Oh baby,” he cooks mockingly, jutting his inky bottom lip out in an exaggerated pout. “I thought that was what you wanted?”

“T’is!” you mumble through his grip, drool beginning to collect in the corners of your scrunched mouth, dribbling down your chin. Gazing at him through the corner of your watery eyes, your resolve hardens, doing your best to hold your exhausted body up on your own, expression steeling as you force your woozy head to nod as best you can in his bruising grasp.

“Yeah?” he breathes, mouth curving into a dangerous smirk before his lips are at your ear, voice dropping an octave lower. “You’re fucking stubborn, y’know that? Stubborn little brat, just like your bullheaded brute of a brother,”

And then he’s pushing you down, shoving your head into the mattress and pulling your hips up, a hiss spit through your teeth as he purposefully presses into the fresh bruises.

Your poor little pussy aches, fucked open and raw by his cock, but you are stubborn—you can’t help it, it runs in your blood—exhilarated by the challenge and pushing your hips back weakly towards him.

Your Daddy chuckles behind you, but it’s one of those annoyed chuckles, one of those disbelieving chuckles, one of those chuckles that consists of an audacious smirk, quick short nodding that’s more to himself than anyone else, and a tongue running along his top teeth, sucking on the bones, before it fades from his face completely, replaced with scorn in an instant, eyes cold and jaw clenched as he delivers a harsh backhand to your ass.

Then his body’s blanketing yours, chest hot and heavy against your back, lips moving against the shell of your ear.

“Oh, you really want me to break you, don’t you?”

No, truly, you don’t, but you grit your teeth, eyes shut tightly against the sting of a fresh wave of tears, trying to stop your head from involuntarily shaking no.

He laughs again, this time mean and sharp and full of malice, as he straightens up, lining his cock up with your hole.

“Nah, nah,” he’s saying as he pushes in, and God, it still hurts, it still stretches you, reopening little sutures created in the stairwell. “I think you do—Actually, I know you do. And Daddy knows best, right?”

Yes, of course, Daddy knows best, Daddy always knows best.

And it burns, that relentless snap of his hips, driving his cock into you with deep growls and grunts, with such force that it’s jostling you up the mattress, little hands planting themselves in a pitiful attempt to press back against him, to keep yourself in one place. Every muscle in your arms screams at the effort, stiff and rigid from being held, kept, still and obedient against the wall for an extended period of time.

The dreaminess has faded again, leaving behind a dull haze, and it all just hurts. It seems to come in bouts, inexplicable waves of numbness and pain, alternating sporadically and sprinkled with spikes of intense pleasure, a potent mix of chemicals swirling in your brain, lust and desire and terror and anguish burning through your veins.

You’re sobbing into the mattress now, fingers curling tightly in his soft black sheets as your bleary vision begins to darken at the edges, mumbling out something almost in a chant—his name, you think, though you’re not sure, it all sounds muffled to your ringing ears—vibrations of your voice getting caught in your throat, hitching with your sobs and the rough piston of his hips.

It’s building again, licks of fire scalding hot against the walls of your stomach, the temperature rising with each drag of his cock against that spot, until you’re sure the flames are going to engulf you from the inside out.

Little squeaks, poor imitations of moans, escape your lips, interspersed with your pathetic wails. He’s speaking once more—you can feel it, his chest reverberating against yours, lips moving against your ear again. Something rumbles, rattles, deep and dark and dangerous at the very core of his body, and then he’s tangling a hand in your hair and tugging, hauling you up, a choked cry slipping from your lips.

It pulls you from unconsciousness’s grasp, just for a moment, clears the mist from your mind as he snarls against your ear, taking the cartilage between his teeth and biting down, hard.

“Thought I told you to answer me the next time I ask you a fucking question,” he breathes, and he almost sounds gleeful, contradicting his voice, so rough, so hoarse, so hot.

You did, Daddy, you did, you’re trying to say, trying to nod in the vice grip he has on your strands, the words jumbled and muddled and near incomprehensible, wet and messy and coated in spit.

“But I guess my—Christ—my cock makes you too stupid to do that, huh?” he’s panting now, in time with his thrusts, huffs of breath sweltering against your already sticky skin. “What would your goody-two-shoes brother say if he could see you, hmm? If he could see how fucking dumb his little slut of a baby sister goes from my cum,”

It’s too much, too much, Daddy, too much, the brutal pounding of his cockhead against your swollen cervix and the continuous stream of strained, husky, filthy words he’s spewing in your ear and the sting in your scalp and that spot, that spot, that spot—

It hits you so hard it’s painful, knocks what little breath you had right out of you as your entire body convulses on his cock, little cunt clenching and gushing as you weep Da-Daddy! over and over and over, the only word your soupy brain is capable of conceiving, body going pliant in his arms as your head lolls back against his shoulder, struggling to keep your eyes open while he continues to drive his cock into you, hard and fast and messy.

He cums with the prettiest broken whine you’ve ever heard—or at least, you think he does, entire body gone numb once again, think you feel his hips juddering and his cock pulsing, think you feel that familiar, thick substance filling you to the brim. Everything is still for a moment, his chest heaving against your arched back, and then he laughs malevolently, though it sounds far away, even though you can feel the sound vibrating against you.

“That ought’a teach you to say no to me again,” he spits harshly in your ear, giving one more hard yank on your hair before letting go completely, your abused body collapsing in a heap on his mattress.

It feels like you’re more Dabi than yourself now, with his name written all over your body, signed by his mouth, his teeth, his fingers, and his cum leaking out of you, drying hard and sticky on your thighs, his scent being all you can smell, all you can taste, heady and fiery. And as you crawl into the sweet embrace of unconsciousness—finally, finally—you think about just how much can change, and how fast it does, in a mere 92 days.

   ✰          ✰          ✰            

Three months earlier

The air is hazy with thick smoke, heavy enough to dilute the already dim yellow light shining from the bare lightbulbs overhead. The stench of cheap beer, weed and sweat stings your nose, and it wrinkles reflexively.

You aren’t supposed to be here.

Throbbing music radiates through the house, causing the structure to tremble in time with the beat, the dirty drywall you’re currently pressed up against quivering in response. It’s so loud it hurts, vibrating through the warped linoleum floors and through your body. It makes you shiver in disgust, as if it’s some sort of parasite worming it’s way through your veins in timed intervals.

Your brother would kill you if he knew.

You’ve been backed into a corner—literally, surrounded by three college boys you’ve never seen before as they drunkenly leer at you. They’re a year or two older than you, glassy half-lidded eyes scanning your body in a way that makes you feel filthy, in a way that makes you want to scrub your skin raw to rid it of their slimy gazes.

They’re mumbling out something, speaking amongst themselves in low voices, peppered with raspy snickers that make your skin crawl. Pressing further into the corner, you quickly wrack your mind for something—anything—that will get them to part just a little, that’ll crack the wall of bodies you’re now surrounded by just enough for you to barrel through. Adrenaline begins to surge through your veins as you gear up, drawing in a deep breath, and—

“Whadda we have here?”

The men part immediately at the sound of that low voice, smooth as melted chocolate, revealing a figure with spiky onyx hair, an involuntary gasp escaping your lips the moment your eyes collide with sapphire.

“Ah, I thought it was you,” he smirks, peering down at you with a gaze so intense it feels like your body’s been set aflame. “What’s a good little girl like you doing in a place like this, hmm?”

Dabi.

This wasn’t the first time you had seen him, remembering the man with the pretty cobalt eyes and inky hair standing under a singular flickering lamp post outside of the tiny house you and your brother share, or lingering on the threshold of the front door, eyes lazily darting around the space as he waits.

He never comes inside. Your brother doesn’t allow it.

You’ve barely spoken any words to him, always responding to his polite greetings with shy nods or little waves.

But this is the first time you’re meeting him properly.

Feet bolted to the floor, you try to respond, only able to emit a pathetic little squeak.

He huffs out a condescending chuckle, gazing down the bridge of his nose at you, head tilted up just a touch, lidded crystal eyes glittering in the dim light. That trademark smirk spreads into something darker, something almost ominous in nature, something that whispers in your ear that it knows something you don’t, sending sharp spikes of ice shooting up your spine.

“Does your brother know you’re here?”

You shake your head quickly, eyes widening in panic as anxiety begins to rise in your throat. He isn’t about to rat you out, is he?

“Thought so. Dunno why I asked,” he heaves a heavy sigh, chest rising with the force of it, as if he’s extremely exasperated, as if you’re some sort of child lost at a supermarket and he’s bringing you back to your parents. “Alright, let’s go,”

A hand extends, hanging limp in the smoky air for a moment, waiting, before Dabi sighs again with a roll of his eyes, latching onto your wrist and all but dragging you out of the corner, maneuvering through the mass of sweaty bodies crowding the dingy living room.

“We’re leaving?” you ask dumbly as Dabi approaches the back door, hand still wrapped in a firm grasp around your arm.

“Yep. My work here is done, and you,” he tuts his tongue with a slow shake of his head, hidden smile on his face. “Your work here is done, too,”

“W-Where are we going?” you ask as the two of you stumble outside, shivering a little as the cool, fresh air hits your heated skin.

“No idea. Away from this place,” he looks back at your briefly, giving your wrist a soft squeeze before dropping it. “You tryna put your brother in an early grave or somethin’?”

A frown tugs at the corners of your lips as you shake your head again. “No, I just—”

“You shouldn’t have been there,” his words echo your thoughts from before. “You were in some real danger for a second, y’know that?”

“I-I know. Thank you for, uh, s-saving me, Sir,”

“Sir?” his eyes are bright with mirth, shining despite the weak light provided by the waxing moon. The smirk returns, and you feel it again—like he’s plotting something, like he’s got some big secret he’s hiding, a plan, something up his sleeve. “Sir is nice, but I think there’s another name you’d rather call me,”

Eyebrows knit in confusion, your eyes drift to the ground, mulling over his words. Something else you’d rather call him? Like what? You’ve only seen the guy a few—

“Still have no idea why you haven’t fucked him yet,” one of your friends muses as Dabi’s exiting his car, eyes watching him lazily from where you’re both seated on the front lawn.

“Keigo would murder me, literally,” you giggle a little, glancing over at the man with inky hair before looking away again, down at your lap as little fingers thread through the grass beneath you and shaking your head.

“Shame,” she sighs, twirling her sticky pink lollipop idly, the candy catching in the sun. “He’s Daddy as hell,”

A sharp gasp leaves your parted lips, eyes snapping back to her face and holding them for a moment before the two of you burst into a fit of giggles, your fingers tapping her bare knee in a silent warning that he’s approaching.

Heavy black boots collide with the front stone path, buckles jingling daintily, his head perking up in a catlike manner, trademark smirk forming on his lips as you both urgently try to calm your laughter.

“Ladies,” he nods with a wink as he passes, little giggles cutting off instantaneously, the two of you mumbling shy greetings in response.

That was the only time you had ever spoken to him, until now.

“Oh my God,” you whimper, eyes squeezing shut in embarrassment. He did hear.

He chuckles slightly, dropping the subject with a shake of his head.

“So. Where to?” he asks expectantly, feet slowing to a stop on the cracked sidewalk as he taps out a cigarette. He whips a silver Zippo open, sharp twinge of metal swiping against metal cutting though the silent nighttime air. “Home?”

A shrill bubble of incredulous laughter escapes your throat. Dabi glances over at you, amused, raising an eyebrow in question as he cups the flame and brings it to his lips.

“Do you want to put my brother in an early grave?” you snort.

“I could just walk you to the street, you know,” he rolls his eyes, but there’s a smile on his face. “Precious niisan wouldn’t even need to see me,”

You shake your head, idly kicking a rock with the toe of your shoe as you begin walking again. The campus is beginning to bleed into the city now, engulfing the two of you in familiar florescent light. “No, I can’t go home,”

“Why?”

“I…” you trail off, heat flooding your cheeks. “I, um, told him I’d be staying at a friend’s place tonight,”

Dabi gasps mockingly. “Baby, you lied to your niisan?”

Knocking your shoulder against his arm, you scoff, trying to hide the stupid smile the nickname conjures. “Oh, shut up,”

“Getting bold now, I see,” he hums to himself. “Could’a swore just a few minutes ago you were scared of me,”

“N-Not scared, just—uh, just surprised, that’s all,”

“Uh-huh, sure. Tell me again why you can’t just go to this friend’s house?”

“Well, she’s—she’s, like, y’know—” you shrug as a form of explanation, deflating a little at his unimpressed stare as he blows smoke out his nose. “She’s going home with some guy,” you mumble. “A-And I was supposed to too, but…”

Dabi tsks, shaking his head in false sympathy. “Sweetheart, you’re a teenage movie cliché,”

“Shut up,”

“You tell me to shut up one more time and I’m gonna have to do something about it,” he singsongs, a thinly veiled threat coated in sugar. Swallowing thickly, you glance up at him, blinking twice. His eyes tell you that he’s not fucking around, despite the relaxed features of his face, smile easygoing and gaze lidded.

“S-Sorry,” you murmur, looking away.

“Don’t you know? Good little girls don’t speak like that to Daddy,”

He spits the word out, almost patronizing in his tone, but that fails to stop the way your stomach flutters when it falls from his lips, fails to prevent the choked little gasp that escapes yours. He laughs loudly, your cheeks burning with shame.

Sapphire eyes glint in the pale moonlight, as if he’s just discovered the most valuable treasure, as if he’s just been given the key to the universe—a predator who’s just ensnared it’s prey, and the smirk that slowly etches itself across his face is nothing short of sinister.

“Do you wanna come home with Daddy, princess?”

He’s caging you between his body and the murky convenience store window as he asks, both palms pressed flat against the grimy glass.

“Hmm?”

No. You shouldn’t. You know you shouldn’t, can almost hear your brother’s voice in the back of your mind telling you not to, but you’re too enticed in sapphire to care, drawn into pretty, almost glittering blue fire, letting the flames lick your skin as you immerse yourself in it, deeper and deeper and deeper, allowing it to wrap itself around you, to consume you, to knock the very breath out of you as you gaze into it.

“Okay,”

   ✰          ✰          ✰            

He only has one bed and no couch, he informs you as he leads you up four flights of stairs, explaining that the elevator’s been broken for a few months now, panting out the words just a little.

A soft giggle slips from your lips, amplified by the empty stairwell and echoing off the concrete walls, and Dabi looks back at you, amused.

“Something funny, princess?”

And although there’s a friendly grin on his face and mirth in his eyes, something in his voice makes you tremble, shoots scorching sparks up your spine and sends them rushing through your veins, and your laughter immediately cuts off.

“No,” you say simply, shaking your head and hoping that he didn’t catch the full body shiver that coursed through your figure just a second ago, all thanks to his voice. “Just laughing at the absurdity of it, s’all,”

“Ah,” he says sagely, nodding once. “Well, here we are,”

A tattooed hand gestures vaguely to a white door with a large, black 4 painted on it, the paint beginning to chip away, worn down and faded in some spots.

Dabi’s apartment is small, but you like it. He’s surprised, he tells you, expected someone like you—someone brought up with luxury, someone who’s never had to ask for or want anything in their life, because they always already had it—would hate it.

“Or maybe, that’s exactly why you like it,”

It’s a little snarky, the way those words flow out of his mouth, biting your cheek as they pass, and you wince a little.

“I think it’s homey,” you say quietly, tiny voice raw and honest, deciding to omit the fact that you’ve never really had a space that felt homey yourself. “It’s very you. I really do like it.”

His eyes soften at your gentle confession, features relaxing a little as calloused fingers tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Then, I’m glad,”

For a moment, you’re positive he’s going to kiss you, staring down at you so intently with that look in his eyes as they slowly sweep across your face. But he turns on his heel a moment later, stalking into the tiny bachelor and beckoning for you to follow with a wave of his hand, flicking on a lamp as he passes.

“You hungry?” he’s asking as he walks. “I know this kickass noodle place that delivers 24/7,” he collapses on his bed, outfitted in black sheets, looking up at you expectantly when you stop hesitantly a few feet away. “You should probably eat something,” he continues, pushing himself up on his elbows, legs dangling off the end of the mattress. “Especially if there’s still alcohol in your—”

“Oh no, I don’t drink,” you cut him off without thinking, the words etched into your permanent vocabulary, sitting down next to him, just a hint too close.

“No, no, of course you don’t,” he says with a laugh and a shake of his head, sitting up fully. “Let me guess; niisan doesn’t allow it,”

A frown forms on your lips, brows knitting together. “Well I—”

“Ah! Stop,” he cuts you off with a disinterested wave and a roll of his eyes. “I’ve heard enough,”

Normally, you’d scoff at someone speaking to you so rudely. But with Dabi, with Dabi, it’s different. A little giggle escapes your lips without your permission, the bubbly noise surprising you, and Dabi chuckles in response, a genuine grin spreading across his face, glancing at you from the corner of his eye.

“So. Food?”

The takeout arrives at 1:56am, Dabi bringing the bag full of noodles and other appetizers—too much food for only two people, if you’re being honest—back to his bed, placing it in front of you and then crawling onto the mattress, sitting cross-legged.

The action surprises you—he doesn’t have a table, but you had been expecting him to bring the food to the small breakfast bar, complete with two mismatched stools, not his bed.

Old Hammer Horror films flicker on the TV as the two of you pick through the food together, Styrofoam containers littering the bedspread. And it’s…fun—it’s the most fun you’ve had in a long time, a strange, unfamiliar giddiness fizzing in your tummy every time you make him laugh, every time his eye catches yours, every time he shoves your knee and calls you dollface, despite the deep, honey-coated voice echoing in your head telling you that you shouldn’t be doing this and he’s dangerous.

   ✰          ✰          ✰            

“Bedtime,” Dabi says simply as he returns from the little kitchenette after storing the leftover takeout in the fridge, using a hand to tug at the back of his shirt and pulling it over his head.

“Wha—”

The material hits you square in the face and an involuntary, entirely unsolicited giggle bubbles past your lips, pulling the garment from your head.

“Pajamas,” he nods at the fabric now bunched in your hands, but you can’t seem to find your voice to respond.

Teeth bite into your tongue hard enough to make you wince in an effort to keep a gasp within your chest when he comes into view. He’s lean—toner than you expected, muscles gliding smoothly under his skin as he moves—and you’re unsurprised to find his chest and back decorated with vibrant, intricate tattoos.

Of course, you knew Dabi had tattoos—they’re on his face, his neck, his collarbone, disappearing under the neckline of his shirt and resurfacing under his short sleeves, curling around his arms, brilliant flowing ink telling stories across his skin. They’re beautiful—they’re mesmerizing, inquisitive eyes slowly roaming the expanse of his chest.

But you had never noticed the soft, slightly puckered skin they hid. Scars, your mind provides dimly.

“Do you want to touch them?”

The rumble of his deep voice snaps you out of your revere, heat flooding your cheeks when you realize you were staring. There’s a playful lilt to his voice, and you can’t quite tell if his offer is serious or not, your eyes floating up to his.

“Here,” he chuckles a little as he sits down, offering you his forearm, flipping it over and resting it on the bed.

He lets you trace every single one. He won’t tell you where or how he got the scars, and you don’t push, even as curiosity erodes your chest. It’s impolite to pry, Keigo’s voice echoes through your mind, and you nod once to yourself.

You don’t have sex that night. He doesn’t force you. You nearly tell him that you’re surprised, what, a man of his stature, of his reputation, has a pretty girl in his bed and he doesn’t fuck her?, petty retaliation for what he had said to you when you entered the apartment hours ago, but you chicken out at the last minute. You’d soon come to find that some things are better left unsaid.

   ✰          ✰          ✰            

Spring has just arrived, bringing with it cool, gentle breezes and swaying blades of grass decorated with glistening dewdrops that sparkle when the sun catches them in just the right way. The smell of freshly battered cinnamon sugar donuts and cheap coffee wafts in through the open window, drifting over your bodies and embracing you.

It rouses you, and your eyes flutter open to be met with Dabi’s face. And, God, he’s so damn pretty, with thick dark eyelashes fanned out delicately across inked skin and tousled onyx hair, breathing deep and calm, sharp jaw on display. Reaching out, you daintily trace over his relaxed features—circling defined cheekbones, sliding down the slope of his nose, trailing along his jaw—allowing yourself a moment to admire him before thick guilt begins to strangle you.

You should go. Keigo still thinks that you’re at a friend’s house, and doesn’t expect you to be home until late afternoon, but that belated bitter guilt finally brands the back of your tongue, face souring a little at the idea of deceiving your big brother. And after all he’s done for you, niisan tsks in your head, voice sweet and syrupy, and you can almost see the disappointment in his eyes as he shakes his head. We’re all each other has, you know. And you do, really, you do know, head nodding routinely, instinctual at this point, as you begin to push yourself up.

“Stay,” Dabi says softly, eyes still closed as a hand catches your wrist. You stop immediately, allowing him to pull you back down to the mattress as lids lift to reveal the most brilliant sapphires. Fingers trace down the curve of your neck and you hum, arching into his touch.

“Keigo—”

“Doesn’t have to know,” he cuts you off, his voice still quiet, rough around the edges and heavy with sleep. “C’mon. We’ll go get pie for breakfast, and I’ll have you home to niisan by dinner, promise,”

Giggling a little, you roll into him, allowing him to wrap his arms around you and pull you atop his chest as he flops onto his back.

“Pie,” you laugh, resting your chin on his toned muscles and gazing up at him. “For breakfast?”

“Why not?” He asks, and that smile is back again, the boyish one that looks like he’s hiding something, a little amusing secret just for him, the one that induces a whole flock of butterflies in your chest. “It’s Saturday,” he shrugs as best he can, then squeezes you to his chest. “You don’t got anything to do, I don’t got anything to do...”

Crystal eyes glitter in the morning sun as they gaze at you, golden rays creeping through the small gaps in his thick purple curtains, swaying gently in the wind.

Molars sink into the inside flesh of your cheek as you think, and Dabi tuts his tongue softly, a hand coming to gently pull the skin from between your teeth.

“Okay,”

His lips curl into a smirk, something sharp flashing in his cobalt eyes. “Okay,”

That’s how it begins—with deceptively bright, youthful smiles and cherry pie for breakfast— and five days later, in the backseat of his Cadillac Eldorado while James Cagney flickers on a worn out, off-white screen and two of his fingers are three knuckles deep in you, he asks you to be his, digits curling in your pretty little pussy as he breathes the words against the shell of your ear.

You’re whimpering out yes as you cum, nodding almost frantically against his shoulder as your hips roll towards his palm.

That’s it, that’s his good girl.

   ✰          ✰          ✰            

But it progresses faster than you ever thought it would—faster than you ever thought possible—like a shot of morphine straight to your bloodstream, pupils gaping as DabiDabiDabi surges through your veins, becoming all you can think about—all you want to think about, all you want to do, eat, feel, breathe.

Midnight double-features of old Hollywood films at the local rundown drive-in become one of the many staples of your relationship, finding comfort in the sharp smell of buttersalt popcorn stinging your nose, in the way the film’s sound cracks and pops as it travels through the car radio, staticky like an old record, in the way Dabi forces a cherry Jolly Rancher from his mouth into yours, the hard candy clacking against your teeth.

This is how you spend most of your weeknights for the next month or so—passing candy through kisses in the backseat of the Eldorado, tongues shoved down each other’s throats, stained red and purple and blue from the cheap artificial dye, hands wandering up dresses and little fingers tugging at beltloops and buckles.

On Saturday mornings—sometimes Sundays, too, if you’ve been a really good girl—you find yourself in a familiar red booth at The League—a little diner tucked away on one of the city side streets not too far from Dabi’s apartment—cheap speckled plastic glittering in the sunlight and sticking to your thighs as your favourite waitress, a young woman by the name of Himiko who insists that you call her Mimi, takes your order. She seems to know your Daddy—your Dabi—somehow, but you don’t press, because it’s impolite to pry, you know and niisan raised you better than this.

He always lets you pick what you want for breakfast, but Daddy always orders it for you, always reminds you the mornings you decide on pancakes that if you get those, you aren’t allowed any sundaes or a slice of pie, because too much sugar is bad for his babygirl, and he knows how much syrup you drown those things in, dollface.

But there’s one staple of your relationship that you love more than all the others.

Joyrides.

That’s what he calls them, those drives through the bad parts of the city, the parts with cracked concrete sidewalks and shattered glass and needles littered in the dying grass.

Dabi takes you along frequently, tells you that you have an important job to do, that you play a crucial role in this whole operation, because the police—including your father—have been cracking down especially hard on dealing in this area. But nobody bothers to question a seemingly innocent young woman delivering inconspicuous brown paper bags—bags full of pretty little pills and tiny baggies of white powder—to shop owners and crumbling apartment complexes, eerily reminiscent of a Girl Scout selling cream filled cookies and thin-mints.

Keigo would kill you, if he knew.

It’s an instantaneous rush, though, being allowed to participate in Dabi’s business ventures, being allowed to help. It’s a privilege, you think, makes you feel like he trusts you, and you absolutely live for the praise, for that gorgeous smile he gives you after you deliver the sweets to the client, for the passionate kisses he rewards you with for being such a good little helper.

Joyrides are the best. Because it’s just you and him, the Eldorado’s radio struggling to play whatever station it’s picking up on—usually some sort of sixties rock—as you cruise the streets in his absurdly large car, the sky smeared with strokes of faded pinks and oranges, peppered with wispy clouds that look like loose strands of white cotton candy.

And sometimes, after his work is all finished, he’ll drive you to one of those cliffs you’ve come to know so well and let you ride him in the drivers seat—precious little whines and pathetic broken whimpers spilling from your lips as you rest your head against his shoulder, gyrating your hips in fast, shallow little circles, using his cock like it’s a toy, just like he told you to—before taking you back home to fuck you properly, to fuck you right.

   ✰          ✰          ✰            

It’s quaint, the little house you and your niisan live in, with its perfectly trimmed hedges and well-manicured grass, a stone walkway leading up to the front door, which is painted white. White windowsills, white brick, white, white, white, the whole thing is white—bright, pure, untarnished.

It’s just enough space for the two of you, your adoptive father, an absurdly large man by the name of Toshinori Yagi, had stated proudly, the first day he showed it to you.

And it’s only a short walk from the university, his wife chimed in with a smile too wide for her face, nodding excessively.

It’s convenient, they had said, the day you received your acceptance letter and scholarship offer from the university your brother attended. It’ll be good for you to stay with your older brother for a little, before going off into the world on your own, they had promised.

You hadn’t really wanted to go to this university—would’ve much preferred to go away to school in another country—but you didn’t. Keigo knew it, too, knew your desire to leave, to see more of the world, to experience it on your own without that hulking shadow with the wild hair. But he coaxed you into it, convinced you to stay, just like he always does, begging you softly not to leave your poor niisan all alone as gentle fingers pushed locks of hair from your face, trailing down your cheek and coming to cup your jaw, reminding you that you’re all each other has.

And you had nodded, nuzzled your face against his palm, sought comfort and relief in the presence of your big brother, just as you always do. He was right; you had your entire life to travel the world, what’s the rush? Why leave now? Stay with him, just for a little longer.

But your niisan, your niisan has a secret.

It wasn’t like you didn’t know. Keigo has always had a penchant for living fast, after all, seems to somehow incorporate conceptual and literal speed into all aspects of his life—his marks in school, his record-breaking track races, and now, his personal life, too.

It started in high school. He was in twelfth grade. You still don’t know who gave him his first taste, still don’t know why he decided to shoot up that night, but he did.

And it made him feel invincible. It made him feel like he could fly.

He hid it well, didn’t look like a heroin addict—at least, not what the words ‘heroin addict’ usually conjure up. His topaz eyes were bright as ever, even if his pupils were just a pinprick; nails cut so short it looked painful, to keep from scratching and scabbing his body; was always sure to keep his track marks well hidden, methodical in choosing his injection sites, and kept up with regular hygiene, even if his wild, windswept hair did get a little messier.

Yes, he hid it well.

But he couldn’t hide it from you for long, didn’t hide it from you well enough, becoming increasingly careless the deeper he spiralled into the addiction.

And it takes a while for you to truly acknowledge it. You didn’t want to—not at first, anyway—didn’t want to believe that your all-star, top-of-his-class, golden-child of a big brother was a junkie.

So you ignored it. You ignored the way he began recklessly disposing of the needles in the small trash can under his desk instead of hiding them in the kitchen trash whenever your mother asked him to take it out, ignored the burnt spoon you found in the sink and the bloody Q-tips you found littering the counter of the bathroom the two of you shared, ignored the way those tiny orange syringe caps had begun appearing in odd places, seeming to pop up more and more frequently.

Yes, you ignored it, until he stole one of the shoelaces off of your sneakers. And you still can’t explain it, exactly, can’t explain why that was the final straw, why that had you gripping a laceless shoe in a trembling hand as you stormed into the washroom uninvited and unannounced, catching him with the string between his teeth, just as the last of that disgusting orangish-brown liquid sunk into his veins.

The words disintegrate on your tongue, escaping in a pitiful little squeak, all of the fury you felt towards him for his behaviour melting the instant your eyes catch the end of the injection, wide and unblinking as they stare at the needle stuck in his forearm.

For a moment, neither of you are able to speak, Keigo’s mouth opening and closing a few times as his eyes flood with tears, the prettiest topaz shining in the warm washroom light as they frenetically search your face.

“Sit,” you tell him, finally breaking the silence, your voice not your own. His eyebrows knit together, and he shakes his head a little in misunderstanding, but you persist. “Sit,”

Shoulders deflating, he holds your gaze for a moment longer before nodding once and obeying, sitting on the closed toilet.

“We have to—” you stop as your chin begins to wobble, swallowing thickly against the sob crawling up your throat, quivering hands rooting haphazardly through a first-aid kit. “W-We have to clean those, so they don’t get infected,”

Glassy golden eyes watch you intently, his chest hiccupping just a little as he wordlessly holds his arms out to you, armed with a cotton ball soaked in rubbing alcohol, the scent stinging your nose.

There aren’t many—only a few little pinpricks on each arm, some decorated with dark blooms of periwinkle and violet, but they still cause your tongue to crumble to bitter, suffocating ash in your mouth.

Tiny fingers encircle his wrist, your touch always so soft, so gentle, as if you’re afraid to break him, and he chokes on a noise that sounds suspiciously similar to a sob.

“You don’t—You shouldn’t have to—” and he can’t even force the words out, breathing out forcefully through his nose as his tears finally overflow, glistening drops streaming down his cheeks, bleary eyes unblinking, focused on your little fingers as they continue their tender ministrations with so much care, with so much love it’s nearly stifling, and he can’t breathe, because he doesn’t deserve it, he doesn’t deserve it, he doesn’t deserve it—

“I want to,” a knuckle catches one of his fresh tears, swiping it across his cheekbone and leaving a glimmering trail in its wake. “Alright? I want to,”

And this—this becomes a habit.

   ✰          ✰          ✰ ��          

You don’t tell Keigo about your relationship. Not at first, at least, conjuring up flimsy excuses that become more ridiculous as the days pass, as your disappearances steadily increase. Dabi doesn’t want to, makes up some bullshit excuse about how he isn’t ready yet. But you buy it anyway, and you wait.

Until the morning of one of your niisan’s big races, the ones where multiple trainers and coaches come from all over the country to assess his performance, when Dabi shows up entirely unannounced and uninvited, makes sure he’s in Keigo’s line of sight as he bounces around at the starting line, and kisses the life out of you, right in front of him.  

That’s the only time he attends one of Keigo’s races.

The rest you continue attending by yourself. Dabi doesn’t like it, doesn’t like to have you out of his sight at all lately, but he knows it’s moot to argue with you. You’re going, you told him firmly, the night before Keigo’s next race, whether he likes it or not.

But, boy, was your niisan fuming by the time the two of you arrived home that day.

He hadn’t cared that he had, essentially, lost the race, hadn’t cared that he didn’t even manage to place in the top three for the first time in literal years, hadn’t cared that he just blew several chances with potential coaches and sponsors.

None of it mattered.

With a rough hand wrapped around your bicep, he all but yanks you out of the car, doesn’t care that you’re stumbling over your own feet as he drags you towards the front door, doesn’t care that he shoves you inside the house so hard you do trip, crying out as your hands and knees collide with the cold tiled floor.

And he’s yelling, yelling at the top of his lungs, the moment that white door slams shut, shut so hard the walls tremble.

“Fucking Touya Todoroki!? Are you fucking kidding me?”

You can barely see him through your tears as you quickly flip yourself over, beginning to inch away on your hands and feet as you stare up at him, breath hitching in your chest.

“Wh-Who?”

“Dabi, for Christ sake!”

“T-T—” Touya?

“Oh Jesus, don’t tell me—He didn’t tell you his fucking name?”

No, you shake your head quickly, chest stuttering as the name echoes through your mind, your big brother nothing but a blur of crimson and gold advancing towards you, mumbling to himself about how no, of course he didn’t, why would he? Of course not, as he drags nimble fingers through his messy hair.

“To-Todo—”

“Todoroki,” he spits, so harsh it makes you flinch.

“Your coa—”

“Yeah, I know his father,” Keigo rolls his eyes as he crouches down, catches your trembling chin between his thumb and forefinger, and you cease all action immediately, freezing in his grip. “You know his brother,”

Your brow furrows as you belatedly search your memory for any instance of the name, gunmetal grey and snow white flashing through your mind, but everything’s too foggy, too hazy with the fear of disappointing your niisan more, eyes squeezing shut as you hiccup at the mere thought.

But then he’s sighing, always knows when he’s gone a little too far—you are very delicate, after all, so small and naïve and in desperate need of someone to take care of you, aren’t you?—collapsing back on his heels and pulling you into his lap as soft hands smooth down your hair, murmuring it’s alright, it’s alright and niisan’s got you, niisan’s got you.

“What’re you doin’ with a man like that, my little songbird?” his voice is gentle as he rocks your bodies back and forth, after your sobs have calmed a bit.

What are you? you want to ask, front teeth sinking into your tongue hard enough to make you wince, keeping those three tiny words inside of your mouth.

“I like him,” you mumble instead, nuzzling your face into his chest and hiding from those bright, inquisitive topaz eyes.

“You—You like him,” he snorts to himself in disbelief, shaking his head a little.

“I do,” you respond, a little firmer as you pull back to stare at your big brother’s face, eyebrows knit together in determination, sparks of fury igniting deep in your chest at the thought of Keigo thinking he knows better, when he’s just as bad.

“He isn’t good for you—”

“He isn’t good for you,” you shoot back, tone clipped as you level your gaze, squirming a little in his arms. His grasp tightens, like he’s terrified you’re going to leave, honey eyes holding yours for a beat before he lets out a breath, looking away, defeated.

“That doesn’t mean you should be allowed to see him,” he mutters, glancing at your tear-stained face for a moment before his eyes flit away again. “But…” his chest rises with a deep inhale, pressing against you. “I guess…I guess it isn’t very fair of me to, uh, judge you, is it?”

“No,” you pout a little. “It isn’t,”

He huffs out a soft chuckle, gazing at you from the side of his eye, a tiny smirk spreading across his face. “Stop being so cute,” he grumbles, squeezing you against him just a bit too hard, giggles spilling from your lips as your fingers curl in the cotton of his hoodie. “I’m trying to be mad at you, y’know,”

“Kei-nii,” you whine with a roll of your eyes, shoving his shoulder weakly, though there’s a smile on your lips.

“Alright, alright, alright,” he’s saying as lithe fingers brush some hair back from your face, palm resting against your cheek, thumb stroking your jaw rhythmically. “Just—Promise me, if he ever hurts you…You’ll tell me immediately, yeah?”

Blinking a few times, your eyes search his face, sobering up as gold bores into you. There’s something in his stare, something you’ve never seen before, something that you can’t decipher, and it sends chills pebbling across your skin. Swallowing thickly, you nod, little jerky movements as your eyes hold his. “Y-Yeah, promise, niisan,”

“Good,” he whispers, chin resting atop the crown of your head as he cradles you to his chest. “We’re all we have. Never forget it.”

   ✰          ✰          ✰            

You only question Dabi about his name once, lounging around on his bed in the early hours of the morning, tangled in his sheets, wearing his t-shirt, with his large hand resting on your bare thigh. His head’s tipped back against the headboard as he exhales smoke in pretty little curls that disintegrate into hazy nothingness only a moment later.

“T-Touya?” Your hearts thudding against your ribcage as you almost whisper the name, barely audible at all, but his head snaps forward, sapphire eyes finding yours immediately.

And for a moment you’re terrified you’ve made a grave mistake, that you’ve crossed some invisible line you hadn’t had a clue about, his glare scathing your skin; but then his features relax, and a little smirk spreads across his lips.

“Ah, so he finally told you,” his voice is quiet, and you can’t read his tone, eyes squinting a little as you lean towards him. “I don’t go by that name anymore,” he speaks up, voice ringing out clear and strong. “Don’t call me that again,”

The or else is implied, and you nod meekly, promising him softly that you’ll never utter it again.

   ✰          ✰          ✰            

It’s been gnawing at you all week, sitting heavy like a block of lead in your stomach, the cuticles on your left thumb bitten raw in agitation. You need to tell him. You’re going to tell him, it’s just…

It just never seemed like the right time to tell him—then again, is there ever a right time to tell your older brother that you’re spending the entire weekend at his drug dealer’s place?

But now it’s Friday, and Dabi will be here in a few minutes, and you still have yet to let Keigo know.

Because Keigo is currently otherwise occupied. With a girl.

You hadn’t been expecting to hear the tinny laughter of a woman when you entered the house, arriving home after your last class of the day, hadn’t been expecting to walk into the living room to find said girl splayed across your niisan’s lap, staring up at him dreamily as endless giggles spilled from her painted lips, hadn’t been expecting him to be so completely enamoured with her that he doesn’t even greet you.

It burns up all of the anxiety that had been building inside you in an instant, turns it into boiling rage that bubbles and pops, noxious as it rises up your throat.

And so, you decide that you won’t say anything at all. If he’s too busy to even acknowledge you like he normally does every single day, then surely he doesn’t care if you leave, right?

“I’m going out,” you toss airily over your shoulder as your halfway out the front door, a small grin spreading across you lips as you spot Dabi leaning lazily against his car. He gives you a nod of acknowledgement, smug grin of his own forming on his lips.

Keigo shoots up immediately, nearly knocking the girl to the floor, moving faster than he ever has in his life as he catches your wrist and tugs, hard. A loud yelp sounds from the back of your throat and you stumble backwards, right into your big brother’s chest.

“Where? Huh? Where?” he growls out the word through clenched teeth, squeezing again. “With who? That—That fucking scumbag?”

At the sound of your yelp, Dabi straightens up instantly, usual lidded eyes now wide open and alert, zeroing in on where Keigo has ensnared you.

“Not like it matters to you, not when you have a whore to entertain,” you spit, and though your gaze is blazing, your eyes are filling with tears, gleaming in the late afternoon sun. “Right?” you push, after a few moments of silence.

His grip loosens, although he doesn’t let go completely, fingers still clasped around you.

“Princess, I…”

“No,” you snap, viciously pulling yourself free of him. “Don’t princess me. Not after ignoring me like that,”

“You’re overreacting—”

“Then so are you,” you cut him off sharply, already beginning to back away and blinking hard to clear your eyes of stubborn tears. “I’m spending the weekend at Dabi’s. I’ll see you on Sunday,”

Dabi catches you the moment you’re within reach, drawing you close to his chest for a second before pulling back. Calloused hands gently raise your wrist, sapphire eyes assessing the damage. His thumb caresses the rapidly bruising area rhythmically, back and forth, back and forth, and he frowns deeply, his gaze finally meeting yours.

“Does he do this often? Hurt you like this?”

And it’s startling, shocking, to see the overflowing concern in his crystal eyes, studying your face intently as you try to find your voice. You don’t think he’s ever sounded that serious before.

“I—No, of course not,” you shake your head, tongue tripping over the words. “We—Y’know, siblings fight, and stuff, it’s—he doesn’t know his own strength, sometimes, uh, forgets it, a-and I bruise easily,” you shrug, wincing a little at the serious expression still etched deep into Dabi’s face.

“If he ever puts his hands on you again, I’ll fucking kill him,” Dabi says slowly, softly, as if he’s reciting the morning news to you, dark eyes drifting up to refocus on the figure still standing in the doorway. “Do you understand me?” he asks, though his stare does not leave Keigo’s, voice still calm, almost serene. “I’ll fucking kill him,”

He won’t, you reassure him, countless times over the next few weeks. Niisan’s never intentionally hurt me, Daddy, he won’t, I promise.

And they’re all true, those words you repeat to him, over and over and over again, while you comb fingers through his inky hair or press chaste kisses against his scarred skin. They’re all true.

Until they aren’t.

You should’ve known, really, not to talk about it. He doesn’t—not when you’re cleaning his track marks or wiping sweat from his forehead, not when he lays his head in your lap as he’s coming down, eyes fluttering as your fingers thread through his hair, not even when you’re feeding him teaspoons of water to keep him hydrated as his body forces him to throw up nothing, again, lips dry and cracked, skin clammy and cold—and you shouldn’t, either.

“Have you ever thought about switching to pills?” You ask one night, casually, as if this is mundane, normal, to discuss while washing dishes. “I heard oxy is like, heroin in a pill,”

His jaw clenches, you can see the motion out of the corner of your eye, quickly refocusing your gaze on the bowl in your hands, the same bowl you’ve been washing for about five minutes now.

“No.”

“Why not? They’re more controlled—”

“I said no,”

“And I asked why not,” you spit, dropping the bowl from your hands. It cracks as it collides with the aluminum of the sink, the sound piercing through the tense air as you turn to glare at your brother, soapy hands on your hips. “It would be safer—”

“Marginally—”

“That’s still better than nothing, Keigo! Christ,” you sigh, running a sudsy hand through your hair. “They’re all fucking opioids, what’s the difference!? They’re all gonna get you high the same way, aren’t they?”

“No—for fuck’s sake—”

You wouldn’t understand, even if he tried to explain to you. You wouldn’t understand that he’s already attempted this, attempted to switch from heroin to pills, and that it wasn’t the same—isn’t the same. You wouldn’t understand that oxy doesn’t give the same instantaneous rush as heroin does, doesn’t take his breath away like heroin does, doesn’t warm his entire fucking body the way heroin does.

No, you wouldn’t understand how most of the time he feels like he can’t fucking breathe until he shoots up, wouldn’t understand how, at this point, heroin feels like an old friend, safe and cozy and more comforting than anything he’s ever felt before, than even your arms are, wouldn’t understand how heroin makes him feel like he’s fucking invincible, like he can take on the entire world in one day, like he can continue living.

It makes him feel whole again, full again, put back together with no cracks or missing pieces. It distracts him from how irrevocably shattered his insides truly are, providing him with quick, fleeting relief, just long enough for him to keep going, keep striving, keep breathing. But you wouldn’t understand any of that. How could you?

He’s sighing as he walks away from you, raking both hands through golden hair.

“You don’t understand—”

“No, you don’t see what this shit is doing to you! It’s killing you, niisan!”

God, no, not the honorific. Not when you’re gazing at him with tears spilling from your eyes, little hands desperately pawing at his t-shirt, urgent just to make him understand, to get through to him for one instant.

“I-It’s killing you and all I can do is watch,” your voice fades into a whisper, breaking on the last word as more tears streak your cheeks, leaving small gleaming trails in their wake, fingers readjusting, knotting in his shirt and tugging, latching onto him as he keeps walking, jaw clenching again as he tries to ignore you. “Y-You have to stop—no, no, n-not stop, just—just slow down, yeah? Slow down a little, it’s—it’s too fast, niisan, you’re going too fast—”

But it’s building, and building, and his head is throbbing, and throbbing, and your voice is rising higher and higher, louder and louder, and it’s all just too much, and before he even knows what’s happening, his hand is cutting through the air, knuckles colliding with your cheek so hard it sends you stumbling backwards, tripping over your own feet as you fall on your ass.

He regrets it the moment it happens, the very moment his skin makes contact with yours.

But that doesn’t matter; the damage is already done.

He’s never hit you before. Sure, he may be a little rough sometimes, and his grip may leave a few bruises every once in a while, but he has never deliberately hit you, until today.

He never thought he would.

Golden eyes dart from his hand, still raised in the air from where it struck you, blood gleaming on his silver rings, to your face, small and terrified, crimson flowing down your cheek, mixing with your tears as it slowly drips off your jaw, and then back to his hand.

And for a moment, he swears, the whole world stops.

Then, a mere second later, his whole world shatters.

You’re trying to form words, staring up at him with impossibly wide, unblinking eyes, but they’re just escaping your lips in little mumbles, half-formed and coated in spit.

His mouth opens, then closes, then opens again, nothing more than a pitiful huff of air formed in the shape of a curse leaving his lips.

It takes your mind a moment to register what’s happened, numb with dizzying shock, stupid with the most heartbreaking pain, dazed as tiny, trembling fingers raise to tenderly prod at the wound, wincing the moment they make contact. But the throbbing of your cheek brings you back quicker than Keigo would’ve liked, and then your eyebrows are knitting together, mouth settling in a wobbly line, blinking hard to clear your eyes of pesky tears.

And all he can do is watch, watch as you shakily push yourself to your feet, watch as your hand grips your phone like it’s a fucking lifeline—a lifeline he very briefly thinks about diving forward and snatching out of your grasp—watch as you turn on the balls of your feet and disappear down the hall, the slam of your bedroom door echoing a moment later.  

You barely make it into your bedroom before your collapsing on the floor, wheezing out uneven breaths, sharp, hard huffs of air that slice through your tight chest with each exhale, vision blurry with stinging tears as you stare down at your phone, cradled in quivering hands.

You know that if you make this phone call, Dabi will never let you come back. You know that if you make this phone call, this is it. Trembling fingers hesitate over his name, those four glowing letters staring back at you, an unnecessary amount of various heart emojis cushioning them.

He doesn’t pick up the first time. Maybe it’s a sign, you think to yourself, a sign that you shouldn’t leave just yet, that you should stay and rot away with him for a little bit longer, remain with him for a little more and give him another piece of your soul that he can add to his prized collection as he slowly steals your life force from you.

But then searing pain radiates through your entire face, along your jaw and to the back of your head, and the coppery smell of blood stings your nose, and you press on Dabi’s name again.

   ✰          ✰          ✰            

If he’s being honest, he would’ve never picked up for anyone but you, probably would’ve killed the idiot that thought to interrupt him during one of the biggest deals of his career—of his life.

“What?” he snarls as he answers, pacing along the wall outside the warehouse like a rabid dog, anxious and eager. “This better be important, sweetheart. You knew I was meeting with one of the bosses today—”

“He hit me,”

It’s hard to understand you when you’re still sobbing, words all wet and garbled, and Dabi squints as he focuses his concentration, feet skidding to a stop as his heart begins to pound.

“What?”

“He hit me. Nii—Keigo hit me,”

And then, his blood runs cold. His ears are ringing, vision fading in and out of focus as red tinges the edges, breathing beginning to accelerate, exhaled harshly through flared nostrils. The thin skin stretched taut across his bony knuckles has turned white as he grips his phone so tightly he’s surprised it doesn’t shatter in his hand.

“Pack your shit,” he tells you, voice oddly calm, cold and sterile and sending shivers skittering up your spine. “I’m gonna fucking kill him,”

[uppermocns-moved]

what it looks like (aot edition) 

⤷ with: eren, armin, connie, jean, levi. 

⤷ content warnings: good ol’ dick headcanons. nsfw content, male masturbation, pubic hair mentions, etc. nobody asked for this but i had lots of fun with my last set lol. 

⤷ a/n: i hate the word plump and talking about balls. if you see me combine these two things, no you don’t.  

before you request // writing disclaimer

eren yeager 

above average (8 in.) with a generous girth. by no means too big to fit, but you’ll definitely feel sore after.  

very much a shower. not particularly cocky about it but he will point out when he catches you looking. smug smirk on his face and everything. if you’re in public, he lets you off with a joking “gross, you pervert”. 

very photogenic dick. smooth skin, defined veins along the underside that throb when you trace them with your tongue, mushroom tip that flushes a reddish-purple and leaks pre-cum from the slightest stimulation.

balls sag a little from the sheer weight of them (it’s gravity). cums a ridiculous amount for someone with virtually no refractory period. 

doesn’t do a whole lot in regards to pubic hair. it’s dark brown, a few shades darker than the hair on his head, and straight. doesn’t get too unruly on its own but eren does trim it back from time to time, mainly to keep things more comfortable for you.

cock visibly twitches when he cums. 

armin arlert

average (6 in.) and leans on the thicker side. 

grower. 

probably one of the prettiest dicks you’ll ever see. a few faint veins and a fat pink tip that flushes red and leaks an absurd amount of pre-cum. smears it all over his tummy or stains a wet patch on his pants.

smooth balls. dare i say cute. they’re incredibly sensitive and armin moans like a pornstar if you suck on them/use your tongue on them. 

doesn’t really know what to do with his pubic hair if he isn’t sexually active, but he puts in the effort to keep things looking nice for you (whatever your standards may be) when you’re together. it’s blonde and relatively fine in texture. 

incredibly responsive to any stimulation. takes virtually no time for him to get hard. throbs in your hand the moment you press your palm into him.  

connie springer 

borderline above average (~6.5 to 7 in.)

somewhere between a grower and a shower. can probably see a bulge in his pants if you look long enough.

decently pretty as far as dicks go. smooth skin, defined veins, slightly flared tip that’s super sensitive and similar in color to his lips (flushes purple when he’s really pent-up). already leaks a decent amount of pre-cum but turns into a fucking fountain if you tease the it with your tongue. probably has a beauty mark on the shaft/somewhere on the pubic area.     

balls are pretty normal, averagely sensitive. fun to massage in your palm. 

grooms a considerable amount compared to everyone else. pubic hair is ash blonde in color and always trimmed short. has a few wisps of hair under his navel in a cute happy trail.

cock throbs when he cums, you can visibly see him pumping cum into you. 

jean kirschtein 

above average (8.5 in.) and thick. annoys the shit out of eren. 

shower and a little embarrassed by it. it’s hard for him to not strain against the pants he’s wearing, just pretend you don’t notice. 

aside from size, jean has a relatively normal-looking dick. varying veins along the underside, proportionate tip a little rosier than his lips, subtle upward curve. similarly, there’s nothing notable about his balls. 

everything is average in sensitivity, but jean will go stupid if you massage his balls while mouthing at the tip.

pubic hair is similar in color to the hair on his head and straight. jean doesn’t really touch it unless it gets unruly, then it’s a light pass-through with the trimmers. 

levi ackerman

average (5.5 in.) but super proportional for levi’s height. decent girth.

somewhere between a grower and a shower. conceals himself well in his pants but doesn’t grow a whole lot when he’s turned on, just gets warm and thick in your palm. 

another pretty dick. subtle veins that swell when he’s close, flared and sensitive tip that flushes a reddish-purple and leaks like a broken faucet, more so when he’s denied.

big and plump balls. always give a pap pap against you when he thrusts.

very well-groomed. keeps everything short and tidy because he can’t stand how it feels when the hair gets unruly. pubic hair is similar in color to the hair on his head and coarse.        

cock visibly throbs and twitches when he’s close. it’s fun to tease and edge levi just to watch how reactive he is.      

[jameui]

SPECIAL PRESENT 2

Requested

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

PAIRING: Sugar Daddy!Jung Yunoh x College Student!M!Reader (featuring: Bestfriend!Lee Jeno)

GENRE: Fluff, Smut

WARNINGS: Unprotected intercourse, huge age gap, a lot of IMPORTANT flashbacks (i think), daddy kink, sex toys, overstimulation

SUMMARY: You were a striving student in Resonance High and had perfect records. Besides your devotion to your education, you were also gifted with a talent. All these stuffs making your sugar daddy, Jaehyun, proud of you, so he decided to give you a night you won't forget.

He gave Jeno an acknowledging nod for looking out for you for him and carried your smaller body with your legs wrapped around his waist like you were an eight year old. "You asleep, baby?" You buried your head on the crook of his neck and shook them 'no'. "Alright. Cause I don't want dinner going to waste." He made you giggle while you hugged his body tighter that were hanging over his shoulders.

He pulled the door to the passenger's seat and gently seats you down on the comfy chair. He closed the door for you before moving to his side of the car. The driver's. He got inside and made himself comfortable, just as you were putting on your seatbelt. "Are we good to go?"

"Yeap. I'm starving already." You said patting your tummy.

He chuckled with his deep voice that you always find so hot and fascinating. "Were you practicing 'til the late night, again?" He asked you, concern lingering on the tone of his voice.

"Yeah. I stayed with Jeno, though. He was a better mentor, in full honesty." You pouted. "Ah, right. The mentor told me I made him proud." You said like a puppy who was complimented by their owner.

"He did, huh?" He said, before he raised his hand from the steering wheel and patted your head. "I'm more proud of you." You smiled and felt all your insides go giddy as you wiggled cutely on your seat.

You drove through houses and past buildings before you arrived at the older man's house. You were in your first year of college when you ran away from your family's house and moved to a more far off place, somewhere they wouldn't be able to track you down. To support yourself, you rented a room in a boarding house, but had to eventually leave due to you having not enough money to pay for the rent. You tried so hard looking for a job and you did, but it didn't last long. Although, you were paid a good amount of money that helped you with your house renting and food. Of course, you found a very unstable job again, but was fired for your poor performance. Yet again, you were forced to leave the the place you rented and even thought of actually working at a gay bar. Not until you stumbled upon, your now bestfriend, Jeno who offered you a shared room with him in his apartment, which you gladly took.

Jeno was one of your coworkers that you never really got to interact with, so seeing now that he's your roommate, you had to eventually get to know him more and you two grew closer together, becoming the best of friends that you two are now. It was quite coincidental that you two were studying at the same university, so it was a shock for the both of you. You two were roommates 'til the end of your first year, when you met Jaehyun on that faithful day, who was generous enough to invite you to live under the same roof as him. At first, you were very hesitant, but with the agreement he had set between you two, who were you to refuse? Like you said before, you were only up for it because of the money and pleasure.

"Daddy?" You called out to him. In the agreement, you were free to call him anything you wanted if you two were in public, but when it's just the two of you, that nickname should be the one used AND only that. He hummed in reply as his eyes never left the rear view mirror, parking the car in the garage. "Do you ever... er, I know it's a very unnecessary question, but..." You chuckled with hurt on your voice. "... Do you ever get tired of me?"

Jaehyun didn't say anything after he had parked the car. You two only sat there, Jaehyun turning the car engine off, then sighed. "Baby, listen." You were once about to speak again, but he cut you off. "I want to tell you something." The tone in his voice made your heart beat faster, more scared than that recent experience at the dance studio. He held your hand, your eyes falling on them before trailing them up to Jaehyun's who was looking deeply into your E/c orbs. "Don't think of it badly, but a few days into the relationship, I really did thought I wish I shouldn't have met you."

And there it goes. The heartbreak you had always deserved, but his hold on your hand never loosened, rather it tightened and his eyes softening when he noticed your eyes start to prick with tears. "I said, don't think badly about it, M/n."

"How could I not when you're literally breaking my heart?!"

"Baby, let me explain." Jaehyun told you, you letting out a huff.

"Then, explain and if you want to end all this, then just say so. I don't want to get my hopes up." You whined and crossed your arms.

Jaehyun chuckled. "Before I met you, I was always on my desk. Every single day, thinking of nothing, but only work." You side eyed him and huffed, again. "But, now that you're here, you're the only person filling up that space in my mind. All I could ever think of was you and only you. Your smile, your sweet giggles, the way your voice sounded so angelic when you sing, everything about you spiraled in my head, neverending." He softly told you, putting a hand on your thighs that was clothed with the long pants you wore. "You never came to me as just a responsibility anymore. You were my top, number 1, only priority. Now, I regret ever thinking like that."

"Stop, you're gonna make me cry." You shoved your hand on his face to shut him up, to which the older resorted to tickling you. You bursted into fits of laughter not stopping until you two were finally out of breathe. Your eyes locked with each other, your chest heaving up and down, Jaehyun still yet to stop from his chuckling. Once his chuckling died down, you couldn't contain it in yourself anymore and hungrily pressed your lips on his, moving to his side of the car to straddle his thighs.

Jaehyun was taken by surprise from your sudden action, but replied quite faster than you thought. His hands slid down to your ass, kneading it through your pants making you moan in pleasure, Jaehyun using this as a chance to slip his tongue inside your wet cavern mixing his saliva with yours as he danced with your tongue, taking dominance very easily.

His hands went further up your body, sending tingles down your spine making you shudder in your place. He pulled away from your lips, a string of a transparent liquid connecting both of you, whilst his dark brown eyes gazing at you with nothing, but lust deep within those orbs that stared into your soul. "You look so sexy, baby." He told you, before he sloppily placed wet kisses on your jaw, down to your neck making sure to leave hickeys that will be visible for days. The contact of his soft lips on your skin made you sigh shakily from the pleasure he was giving you. He caressed your soft skin from under your large shirt and found its way up to your erect nipples that he always fondly played with whenever you found yourselves in this same exact situation.

An unconscious loud, high pitched noise came out of your mouth, Jaehyun swelling with pride as he smirked, teeth grazing the supple flesh of your neck. "D-daddy.. Mmnh~" You hummed out in pleasure, your hands tangling themselves on Jaehyun's unkempt hair, your head completely empty, but the thought of how the man made you feel so good. "Daddy~"

The way the nickname rolled out your tongue in a very sensual way, earned you a growl from the older male before he bit on that sensitive part of your skin making you scream out a loud moan. He licked on that same area, sucking on it while doing so. Your eyes were half lidded when you felt something under you poke your thighs. He was hard.

Teasingly, you traced your fingers over his clothed member and played with the tip to drive him over the edge. "Stop teasing, baby boy. You know what happens to bad boys, right?" He whispered seductively into your ears, his hot breathe hitting your skin briefly, a minty scent filling your nose.

"Yes, daddy." You nodded your head meekly.

"That's a good boy. Now get to work." He ordered you as you moved back towards your seat in a kneeling position and ducking down to become face to face with the male's crotch. Even from now, you still couldn't get over the fact how he was so huge and how long his dick was. You were still yet to learn how this will fit inside of you. "Come on, baby. Time's a wasting."

You nodded your head submissively and reached over the waistband of his sweatpants and peeled them off only to discover that he was bare on the inside, his sweatpants the only thing that kept his bottom half covered. "Did you expect this to happen, daddy?" You smirked, placing kitten licks on the tip of his semi-erect cock. "You're so hot, daddy." You said, looking up at him while you rested your head on his thighs.

"Baby, please." He begged of you, eyes furrowing.

You smirked before you trailed a small lick from his balls up to his tip, making Jaehyun groan throughout the time he entangled in his hand a fistful of your hair. You can't help, but let a moan slip past your tongue as you continued to place kisses on the head of his cock. You glanced up at him only to see him viewing you with so much lust in his eyes. You understood this as a sign to stop your teasing and wrapped your lips around the head of his cock taking in only a few inches that you could fit into your mouth, using your tongue that sent shivers down Jaehyun's spine as he groaned from the pleasure you gave him.

But, this time, you wanted to make him feel better. You wanted to know how far you can go. You were determined to exert yourself to your maximum limit, so you took all of his cock into your mouth, not even bothering how much you choked around his dick when he reached further down your throat. Upon this, Jaehyun howled. He didn't expect you to take him whole, since you were basically only playing with the head of his member, so this was rather unexpected. "That's right, baby. Make daddy feel good."

You helped yourself first to fully adjust to his size, swallowing around him that made your throat tighten causing to send pleasure through Jaehyun's nerves making him groan out in pleasure, hissing out cusses that made your ego swell with pride as you started to bob your head painfully slowly for Jaehyun's liking.

Occasionally you would look up at Jaehyun who had his head tilted backwards, eyes shut, sighing from the familiar sensation you gave him while he let you do your work. He would take his head back down to you, to peer over you who sucked on his dick like it was a lollipop. "Fuck, baby. Faster."

You followed his command and went a little faster, earning a groan from the lust filled male as he started to guide your head. You stilled yourself, giving him the signal that he can go at his own pace. And so he did. But, you didn't expect that he'd fuck your mouth at a very rough pace.

You held onto his thighs to balance yourself, your eyes rolling back from how much you felt good with just your mouth getting fucked by Jaehyun. The older male grunted and laughed darkly whispering a few curses, letting out chains of groans and sighs that he couldn't help from passing his lips.

His pace didn't stop from increasing its speed, until it became an animalistic pace that made tears fall from your eyes, face reddening at how much stimulation he had put on your mouth. "Fuck, fuck! Baby, your mouth feels so good!"

He peeked over you and saw your eyes staring back at him, as you felt his dick grow bigger in size from inside your mouth. Your eyes were both locked together as he continued to buck his hips inhumanely inside your mouth. "M/n~ Ah~" He moaned out your name, but he was still not near to reaching his climax as he continued to let himself fuck your mouth. You were sure your throat will be sore the day after, but you could careless. This felt like heaven to you and you didn't want anything to stop you.

He finally stopped his harsh movements, letting you move at a pace you can handle. You used your tongue to swirl around his cock, making Jaehyun hiss, knitting his eyebrows causing the small creases on his forehead to appear. "Hah..."

To drive him over the edge more, you continued to suck on the sensitive part of his cock, which was the tip that was now leaking with precum. You slid your tongue over the slit of the bulbous tip of his dick, tasting the saltiness of the juice he produced with your help.

He was so over his head, that he let out a loud curse when his phone started ringing. "Don't stop, baby." You complied, his hand intertwining with the strands of your hair. You repeated the routine and got no reaction from the older male, but you can clearly see that he was just trying to restrain himself from letting out a moan. Feeling challenged, you bobbed your head up and down on his dick going faster and faster each time his tip hit the back of your throat.

Jaehyun, who was still on his phone, smirked down at you at how needy you are for his attention. So, he placed his hands back to your hair and singlehandedly pushed you you even further that made you let out a choked out gasp, but gradually grew accustomed to it, after he gave your head one final push, burying his dick inside your mouth thick spurts of his cum travelling down your throat, some dripping down your mouth. He thrusted a few more times to ride out his high before he let you pull away with a loud pop.

He finally hung up the call and caressed your cheeks, leaning in to whisper. "You did great, baby." He smiled down at you and that's how you eventually fell asleep, forgetting about the dinner that Jaehyun had prepared for the both of you.

Nonetheless, Jaehyun fixed himself up and carried you to his room. He laid you down on the soft mattress of the bed, pulling the sheets over your body before he gives your forehead a small lingering kiss. "Sweet dreams, my little angel." He said, then got up to to turn the lights off, happily watching you sleep one last time, before he went downstairs to finish his work.

The morning after, just as expected, you felt a sting on your throat every time you swallowed or even talk making your voice sound hoarse from the sore throat you were having. Jaehyun kept on apologizing, even though you kept on telling him that it was alright and that it wasn't his fault, but he still insisted and promised you to cook your favorite meal for dinner. Knowing the taller male, you knew there was no way around this, so you just gave in and nodded your head. He was also kind enough to let you hide his bite mark.

"I didn't know your voice could go that deep." Jeno teased you, poking the side of your ribs.

You slapped his hands away. "Fuck you." Your voice came out airy and raspy, sound almost like a broken croak, making you sigh. "Gah... I feel like I shouldn't have—ah—done that a day before the performance." You said, wincing when you felt that rising pain on your throat as you rubbed them to try and ease the sting that was fucking killing you.

"Guess, it's good that I don't do the sucking." Jeno chuckled that made you widen your eyes.

"Who—"

"Lee fucking Jeno. AH!" A rather harsh sounding voice, emitted from behind the said male, taking his attention before he smiled.

"Nana! You came!" Jeno opened his arms and ran to the boy, but he was pushed away by him making Jeno pout.

"Shut the fuck up, Jeno." He groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing. "You gave me this sore throat." He glared at Jeno. "And, of course I came. After you fucking threatened me to—"

"Yeah, yeah. That's enough, Jaemin." Jeno said, covering the person's mouth. Jeno took his hand back as quick as lightning, when Jaemin licked on the palm of his hand, a smirk forming on his face. "Gross!"

Jeno was wiping his hands when you rolled your eyes and held a hand at Jaemin for him to shake. "M/n. L/n M/n. A 'friend' of my friend, is a friend of mine. Nice to meet you." You greeted him, Jaemin chuckling at the same exact situation you were in.

"What a top, huh?" Jaemin said, before he shook your hand. "Na Jaemin. Pleased to meet you." He smiled at you while Jeno pulled both your hands away from each other.

"HEY!"

"No. Just no!" Jeno told you both, while knitting your brows in confusion at him. "Jaemin. You're only mine."

"Of course, he's yours. I don't plan on taking him away from you. I just want to be friends." You said in reply to Jeno's statement who pouted. "Besides, I'm not as handsome as you, Jeno, so I can't compete with you."

"I don't mind cute boys." Jaemin crossed his arms, teasing Jeno and probably you, as well as a blush started to paint your cheeks.

"HEY!" Jeno yelled at Jaemin who rolled his eyes before he gave you a wink and walked off. Jeno glared at you and narrowed his eyes. "Mine. Jaemin's mine."

"Then, take him. Geez Luis, Jeno. I already have my own." You stuck your tongue out at him before you went to the studio to change into the costume you were to wear. You waited for your turn, a makeup stylist approaching you to put make up on you. "Oh." You said and the stylist just smiled and started to dab foundation onto your face that matched your skin tone. She gave you a small amount of blush on, giving you an eyeliner and a dark brown eyeshadow to give your eyes a fiery look to match the concept of your performance.

She immediately packed her things up and moved to another student, you giving her a bow as she left. "Wow, look at you. I didn't even recognize it was you." Jeno teased with his arms crossed across his chest.

You gave him a smile and fiddled with you fingers. "I'm actually feeling really scared right now. But, mostly, I can feel the adrenaline rush running through my veins that I could just scream and run out the stage and dance!" You said in glee, until you realized that you had forgotten telling Jaehyun about your performance. "Oh, no. Da—Jaehyun! I forgot to tell him." You groan and checked your pockets for your phone and remembered you left it at home, since you were to excited to even check yourself. You dejectedly sat down on a chair and whimpered.

"He'll be there, M/n. I can tell." Your mentor told you, when he heard your complaints about forgetting to tell Jaehyun, and you immediately lit up and hugged the person.

"Thank you!" You expressed your gratitude, getting the idea of what he meant. You pulled away from him with a wide smile glued stuck to your face.

"Now, you both need to get changed. The opening's 'bout to start." You and Jeno nod your head and went straight to the wardrobe to get change, seeing only two outfits left on the line.

"Just in time." Their dress stylist both gave them what seemed to be like their costumes that was kept inside a black plastic case with a zipper that attached the layer together.

You made your way to the dressing room, one for you and the other for Jeno. You fit yourself just right into the clothes they have assigned for you to wear. You looked at yourself in the mirror and was shocked to see how good you looked on these clothes you're wearing.

You were fit into a maroon loose silk long sleeved polo, the vertical front of the shirt that attaches it together was replaced with laces that stitched around the holes of your clothes' button hole. The sleeves of your polo went further down, just below your wrist, avoiding it from falling by securing it with a button on the hem of the sleeves. For your lower half, you were given tight fitting slack pants that accentuated the size of your bubble butt with your polo neatly tucked inside the waist of your pants. The length of your pants stopped exactly by your ankle, exposing that uncovered area, the wind tickling your ankles. You wore a closed black shoes that complimented the look. You also wore a display lip ring and earring that completed your look, your whole self changing right before your eyes. The gullible and fun you was no longer there, instead it was replaced with a much more unknown version of yourself.

"Damn, I look fine as fuck." You told yourself as you checked yourself out on the mirror that was placed in the dressing room. "Woah..." You said, tracing your fingers on the outline of your ass.

"M/n. You done in there? We're almost up." Jeno's voice called from the busky studio that snapped you from your thoughts and came out of the dressing room. Jeno's head turn to look at you taking in your new look with a lip bite and a whistle. "Damn, bro. You look so hot."

"Thanks, I guess." You giggled, blushing shyly.

A few more compliments later and your group was being called to move to the venue and be at the backstage to prepare. You just stuck to Jeno the whole time going back to the routine a few times to practice and perfect the dance. Jeno was a good friend to the point where he would always be there by your side whenever you needed him. Even at this time, he never left your side and helped calm you down by offering a bubblegum to you, your mind thinking about nothing, but focusing on chewing the gum. Jeno would always initiate a talk with you making you laugh all the time whenever he made faces or make jokes that weren't even funny making it hard for you not to laugh at.

But, it seemed like all Jeno's work went immediately down the gutter when you felt your nervousness come back at once, when the emcee of the opening program started to introduce you to the stage.

Loud cheers and a round of applause were heard as you made your way to the very spacious stage of the place. Your eyes fell to the crowd, feeling yourself break into cold sweat from all the nervousness you felt. It was too heavy that you couldn't—"Daddy?" You smiled when you saw Jaehyun in the crowd and waved his hand at you when you saw your eyes that was happily looking at him. You subtly waved your hand back at him, to which he smiled at, those deep dimples appearing for you.

You got into your position, which consisted of you lying down on the floor, with your right leg folded up, your knee raised up. You had a cutted satin fabric in your back pocket as a prop for yours and Jeno's solo later. You put your hands over your eyes, as a part of your starting position.

Soon, the music started booming through the speakers and you felt your body get trapped to the rhythm of the song as you felt your hands and legs get overtook by the music as you started to gracefully dance to each beat of the song. Jaehyun, with his phone, proudly deciding to film your whole performance.

The first and second half of the song was just your group synchronized dancing to the choreography of what your mentor had taught you and you leading some part of the dance, until the song made a huge turn to a very sensual groove that had only you and Jeno left on the stage. Your solo, with your partner, Jeno, started and everyone in the crowd whistled and gasped, including Jaehyun who felt a little jealous that it wasn't him with you on that stage.

You started with a freestyle by grinding your hips on the cold newly polished floor of the stage, before you were joined by Jeno who stealthily took the fabric from your pocket and slowly wrapped it around your source of vision. He took your chin to turn your head and face him. One hand, not too tightly held the blindfold up only enough, so it doesn't fall, while the other held the back of your neck turning both of you around, so your back faced the audience and he faced the crowd, smirking before he leaned in close to you and staged to make it look like he bit on your neck, then removing the blindfold from your eyes. Then, ending the performance with you falling down to the floor acting lifeless, while Jeno pretended to wipe his lips.

The audience broke into loud claps and shouting out praises in chorus, while Jeno helped you up to your feet giving him a silent thanks and bowed at the people who was watching your performance. You two walked out of the stage and was greeted with hugs from the students feeling like they made a very big accomplishment from how you made the performance very eye catching. "M/n! You were so great out there!"

"Thanks. Jeno helped me a lot." You said, nudging the older, who only chuckled.

"M/n." Jaehyun's voice grabbed your attention, holding his arms out as he smiled at you. You gave him a wide smile and ran to him hugging him with all your might.

"I'm sorry, I forgot to tell you." You voiced out apologetically, pushing your bottom lip forward into a pout and looked up at him. "Sorry, Jaehyun."

"It's okay, baby." He replied, before leaning into your ear. "Because I'm hoping you kept your promise and that's why I have a surprise for you."

You knew what he meant by that, the reason why you were blushing with your eyes wide open. "I.. er.. Yes, yes." You said, playfully punching on his chest. A week prior to today, you had promised to Jaehyun that if you're performance was successful, you'd finally let him pop your cherry, that's why you're blushing so profusely.

"Then, be ready. I'll be seeing you tonight." He whispered one last time before he kissed your cheeks and excused himself since he was still expected at his work.

The whole day, all you could ever think of was what his surprise was and how he would be able to fit his huge dick inside your ass. It was too impossible, you thought, but you were already feeling just as desperate as the older male. You wanted to know how he felt inside you, how he would fuck you 'til the daylight, how he would break your mind and fuck you until you forget your own name. Just the thought of it made you go crazy as you slapped your cheeks and sighed. "Fuck..."

You felt a presence sat themself beside you giving a loud sigh. "So, I'm guessing you're gonna stay up whole night, huh?" It was Jaemin.

You whipped your head at him and looked at him like he was some type of witch or future teller. "How'd you..."

"Gut feeling." Jaemin said.

You didn't know what you signed up for in that time, until today.

It was currently quarter to seven and you were now at the front of the doorstep, not even bothering to say a word. You could only blink your eyes several times, swallowing the large lump that formed in your throat. You let out a deep breathe and was about to put your hand on the knob when the door let out a soft creak and caught sight of Jaehyun who was dressed in nothing, but his boxer shorts. Your hands didn't left the air as you continued to stare up at him, before your eyes fell down his toned abs that were nothing compared to your flabby stomach. "M/n, baby! You're just in time." He smiled at you, but you were still as nervous as ever. Your eyes never left from taking in the view right in front of your eyes, admiring how much his body was so sexy, licking your lips as your eyes fell down his shorts. "M/n."

Your head snapped up towards him, finally out of your train of thoughts. "Yes, daddy?"

"I left your present on the bed, baby. Go check it out." He told you as you did what you were told and moved upstairs to your shared bedroom and saw a pink colored paper bag on top of the bed. You looked at Jaehyun hesitantly, who gave you a smirk and nodded his head up once to the bag to tell you that you should open it. So, you did. And didn't expect to see all sorts of 'toys' inside them.

"D-daddy... these all are..." You managed to let out, these only few words getting the chance to leave your mouth. Your hands trembled, not because you were scared, mainly because you can already feel yourself start to melt and the desperation to just submit to him already.

You felt a pair of arms wrap themselves around you loosely, Jaehyun's hot breathe hitting your neck. He pressed his lips down to your neck and placed kisses that trailed down to your exposed shoulder due to the large shirt you wore that was barely hanging on your shoulders. You tilt your head to the side, giving him more access to your neck as he started to nip on the skin. "Fuck, baby boy." He whispered into your ear, licking your lobe making you sigh in pleasure, as he started to grind his hard on against your ass.

"Ah... daddy.." You moaned out from the feeling of his clothed member on your butt.

He never ceased his movements until he saw your hands still holding onto the bag, his smirk growing wider. "I'll let you pick two, baby and it'll be our special tool for tonight. How's that sound?" He seductively asked you, his lips grazing the back of your ear.

You weakly nodded your head and checked the contents of the paper bag. You were too clouded with the thought of getting pleasured by the older man that you took out whatever you could take in your hand. The chosen items made Jaehyun smirk. "Good choice, baby boy." He moved away from you, already missing the heat his body radiated against yours. He took the bag away from the bed and threw it somewhere in the corner of the room and took the toys you had in your hand. "I gotta say, you have good taste, M/n." He said. "Strip." His voice fell an octave deeper making your knees buckle from his dominating demeanor.