#clean and jerk complex

[whirlybirbs]

— NOISE COMPLAINT ; eijiro kirishima ; 切島

summary: red riot feels really bad about absolutely wrecking the shit out of your treasured plants, or eijiro kirishima falls in love at first sight. pairing: f!reader / pro hero!red riot word count: 3.7k tags: mutual pining, fluff/comfort, humor, very gentlemanly make-out, reader is a fan of red riot, mention of ingenium thirst (truth) a/n: kiri might be a twenty-seven year old pro hero in this fic but he is an absolute lovesick virgin who gets all his romantic cues from k-dramas. you cannot force me to think otherwise.

This is exactly the sort of night you needed.

The television, low and quiet, drones on as a deep-dive video on terrariums plays. Your apartment is clean — dishes done, laundry folded and trash taken out. There's a new candle burning on the coffee table, and a Dynamight-themed, cucumber-melon eye mask plastered to your delightedly thoughtless expression.

It's supposed to be good for dark circles. It kinda burns. You wonder if maybe that's, like, part of the gimmick. Y'know. Burns. Dynamight. 

Whatever.

No thoughts. Only the pleasure of turning everything off — brain included — for a perfect Friday night, complete with a mediocre glass of wine and no pants. 

The oversized Red Riot t-shirt clinging to your frame is your favorite. You've had it since college — it's a simple red tee with REAL MEN RIOT blazoned across the front, complete with your favorite hero popping a cheeky, shark-like grin and a double bicep. It's faded, stretched out, and broken in but it's also clean, and it smells like fabric softener and comfort.

This is the life. 

Even Twitter is decidedly pretty calm tonight. 

You're scrolling through your timeline, snickering at your friends' recent thirst tweets over Ingenium's recent GQ Japan shoot when it starts.

Apparently, your upstairs neighbors are home.

You thought those guys were out of town for the week. 

You've had beautiful, silent bliss for too long. The buck stops tonight, you suppose.

There's a shout overhead, then a scramble. Another voice joins the fray, and you swear you hear someone call someone else an idiot. You frown deeply as your eyes trail upwards. You wait, expecting more noise, but unsettling silence follows.

Your eye twitches.

Annoyance tips into a simmering rage.

The apartment complex is old. It's in decent shape, and the rent isn't half bad, but the walls are thin. Your upstairs neighbors have been like this as long as you can remember: shouting, stomping, fighting... Some nights it's like being subjected to musical chairs, modern contemporary tap dance, and experimental sound drum solos all at once. 

Your first week was the worst. You dragged yourself up the back to knock on their door and politely negotiate some silence — but the man who opened the door was less than pleased to have his little dude-bro circle-jerk interrupted. He told you to fuck off, get bent, and leave him the fuck alone. 

Then, before he slammed the door in your face, he procured the sort of audacity only assholes possessed and laughed at your Red Riot shirt — which is just plain unforgivable, frankly. 

"That guy's a fuckin' pussy." 

Sure, sure, sure, right, right, right.

The interaction told you everything you needed to know about the two (or four?) men who lived upstairs. They were losers. And they were fuckin' annoying. 

And, as it turns out, manufacturing bad batches of Trigger. 

You don't know that yet, but truth be told it isn't exactly shocking.

Maybe it's your fault for picking an apartment complex in this part of Tokyo. This part of Arawaka Ward is rarely found on those top-ten-neighborhoods-for-young-professionals lists, but it's affordable! And for day laborers like you, it worked. And hey, in recent months, the crime rate has gone down at least 5% — which only quelled the anxieties of your mom and dad by about the same percentage. 

The candle on the coffee table flickers, and you're about to turn back to your slow Twitter feed when there's another bang upstairs — this one admittedly loud enough to send a wave through your wine beside you. You slip your eyes slowly to the glass, perched on a coaster, as another bang rattles your apartment. You reach to still the vibrating glass on the side table. 

That's when the shouting really starts.

And it's when you notice the growing brightness of red and blue lights outside the window.

The apartment complex is pretty big. There are about sixty residents and six floors. You lucked out and managed to snagone of the last available Western-facing studios with a balcony — which made for a perfect plant haven. 

It was a recent hobby, but one that quickly became your calm after the chaos of the day-to-day. Working for the city's Heroics Response Department left you picking up the physical pieces (literally) of a lot of lives. Your quirk might be the usual, run-of-the-mill strength-based ability, but it comes in handy in the aftermath of property damage due to — what the Nation's Safety Commission has labeled — "villain-aggressed encounters". 

All in all, it's a good gig. It's physically demanding but rewarding. The pay is good, you've got union benefits, and you even have a per-diem schedule. It keeps you busy, and though it's not your father's construction business, it's a career path your parents are proud of. 

The slice-of-heaven balcony is bustling with plants. Some are happier than others, sure, but it's pretty. You've admittedlyformed an emotional bond with those vines, leaves, and flowers. 

It's perfect.

It's also perfect for snooping whenever things like this go down in your complex, or the sister complex across the parking lot. 

The shouting match upstairs is escalating, and you take the moment to tip-toe towards your balcony door to peek outside. It looks like two or three police cruisers have pulled up outside. Maybe someone called for a noise complaint? Maybe the property manager was tired of dealing with those losers?

Cackling to yourself, and hoping for a vindicating show of revenge (NO ONE CALLS RED RIOT A PUSSY), you yank open your balcony door and slip outside just as the sound of a pot crashing meets your ears.

Then:

"Shit, shit, shit—"

There's someone on the balcony. That someone's boot is currently stuck in an empty terracotta pot you were saving for spring. Your eyes are wide as you watch the shadow leap to his other foot, lose his balance, and unceremoniously knock over your entire, six-foot-tall, and well-treasured plant stand. You slap a hand over your mouth mid-shriek, hands flying to try and save whatever you can. 

You fail.

Eijiro Kirishima freezes.

What the fu—

It takes a second.

Like, a full second. Maybe even two. Your brain can't make sense of the sight before you. Neither can his, really. 

There's a girl on this balcony. A pretty girl. Like, mega pretty. Like soft and warm and cute and you smell kinda like vanilla — and there's... You're wearing his merch. His merch and... nothing else. Nothing else but a Dynamight eye mask and a pair of fluffy socks. 

...Is this what it's like to fall in love at first sight?

Shit.

Red Riot is on your balcony.

The Red Riot.

Red Riot, the hero in question, catches himself staring. His wide eyes openly wander over your figure (woah, okay, hello thighs), and the second he realizes it, he quickly snaps his eyes up to your face with a mortified expression. "Uh... hi!"

"...Hi...?"

Your expression is tied between shame, fear, and sheepishness as you blink once at him, then twice at the mess of your hobby's destruction. There's dirt everywhere, a plant stand blocking the doorway, and carnage. Your precious babies have been murdered. 

By Red Riot.

And... Red Riot is on your balcony. 

You repeat: Red Riot is on your balcony. 

Abort mission, abort mission.

Your lips part, your mouth hangs open, and every single thought in your head seems to stutter. Kirishima winces as you look down dejectedly at your plants (or, what remains) before he speaks.

"I, uh— is it cool if I..." he points upwards, "Use your balcony?" 

You're speechless.

You draw your mouth shut and nod hurriedly.

"Thanks," he grins, giving you a thumbs up — and a smile. A toothy, cute, nervous smile, "Lemme just... I gotta handle something. B-But, I'll be back. I'll help fix this mess — just... five minutes, okay?"

It hits you suddenly that his voice sounds different from all those interviews you've watched. It's a little warmer, a little raspier, a little less heroic. It's cute. 

Your brain is still having a hard time connecting the words coming out of his mouth to the scene before you — like, yes frontal lobe, this is real. This is happening.

Red Riot is real and Red Riot is on your balcony. 

He's shockingly gentle when he finally frees his boot from your terracotta pot, setting it down with purposeful delicacy — he even whispers 'please stay' as he props it upright — and then steps back to eye the balcony above yours like an athlete remembering a gameplan. 

He's trying to figure out the best way up. 

How he even got up here is news to you. 

(It was Uravity, as it turns out. They've been patrolling together more in this Ward.)

Red Riot is huge. Like, huge. 

Broad shoulders, rippling biceps, and long, fluffy crimson hair. It's daunting to realize how tall he is in person. The guy is a beast — everyone knows it — but his chivalrous nature is that thing that usually draws in his fans. It's no secret that Red Riot is sweet. He openly champions the need to be a good role model for men everywhere. Y'know, you can be strong and nice!

A sharp canine glints in your apartment's light as he pokes his tongue out and thinks for a second. 

Then, he settles on his plan. 

"You might wanna head inside," Red Riot says as he rolls his shoulders and bounces on the balls of his feet; he's readying up for a fight — and you blink as the beautiful realization dawns on you, "This could get kinda loud."

Loud?

Oh my god.

Is he here for your upstairs neighbors?

Oh my god, he is. 

Your jaw falls open as you bark out a laugh — it's an incredulous rasp that sends you into a spiral of joy; you're not a vengeful person by any means but...

"They're gonna shit themselves," you grin, your eyes alight with pure delight and a spark of something that reminds Kirishima a lot little bit of Bakugo, "They called you a pussy—"

Kirishima's brows shoot upwards as he pauses. He was about to jump and dig his hands into the underside of the balcony, but his quirk is stalling at your words. There's a roaring fire blazing in your eyes, one that screams retribution. 

It's... comical.

You cackle again at him with a wide grin, hissing conspiratorily. "They made fun of my shirt!"

You point down at the REAL MEN RIOT tee with both hands, your face set in a look of vindicated glee. Then, the second realization of the night hits — that you've got no pants on, and that stupid, goofy Dynamight eye mask is still on your face. You make a soft sound of embarrassment and tug your shirt down lower, trying to cover up. He cannot see your underwear. No. No way, no fucking way. Without a single word, you reach up, snatch the Dynamight eye mask off your face, and whip it off the balcony without a second thought. 

Slowly, Kirishima's face splits into a pointy grin. 

Holy shit, he's so fucking hot. 

"Oh, man," Red Riot rumbles, his face cracking into a sharp, playful smirk, "That's real rude. I might have t' teach these guys some manners."

Your smile returns, washing away the wobbly look of embarrassment sticking to your cheeks. 

Man, it sure is cute.

You are really cute, Kirishima realizes.

"Right! And who calls Red Riot a pussy?" you counter excitedly, before reigning it in and awkwardly lowering your arms as you try to tug your shirt down to hide the tops of your thighs again. Your glee has stifled a little bit, but it only reaffirms Kirishima's duty to wrap this all up. 

"Yea, that's, like, super misogynistic," he muses as his quirk kicks in and his hands flick into a hardened state. It's insaneto witness the way his large hands transform into weapons with a single breath. You can see the jagged extension of his quirk working up his large arms, too, "Lemme just have a lil' word with these boys, alright? Head on inside, I'll be back in a sec'."

Then, with graceful ease, he hops upwards with a little hup before latching to the base of the upstairs neighbor's balcony. 

It's insane how effortless it is for him to haul himself up the balcony, his hands dug into the cement. His upper body strength is insane. He's scaling the terrace, alternating his grip. He disappears into the dark, swinging his body upwards and reaching his destination.

You tamp down your awe in favor of heeding his directions: head inside.

You're closing the balcony door when you hear Red Riot's voice greet the unexpecting gaggle.

"Hey, fellas! I heard you guys are some super fans. Got anything you want me to sign?"

You snicker to yourself as you hear the beginning of a fight. 

Again, as it turns out, the guys upstairs sucked. Like, mega sucked. They'd been responsible for several recent Trigger overdoses; Uravity and Red Riot were working with law enforcement to track the small-time manufacturers — which explains why they'd been so quiet lately. They suspected someone was on their tail. 

As Red Riot scaled their balcony, law enforcement waited to break down their door. They arrested the four men (Seriously? Four? In that studio?) without much incident — however, you did spy a broken nose on one of them as they were hauled into the back of the awaiting cruisers. 

Sweet, sweet revenge. 

By the time your neighbors are carted off, you've shimmed into some sweats and made a half-assed attempt to look sort ofpresentable, all while firing off a few contextually incomprehensible texts into your group chat.

red riot has seen me in my underwear wtf do i do know kiss him?

You're really weighing your options when there's a knock on your balcony entry. It's gentle and cordial. You turn, head snapping, and spy that trademarked (and a dozen times retweeted) smile through the glass. He waves. 

Your heart leaps into your throat. You try to remember to breathe as you shuffle over and tug the balcony door open. The night air is cool.

Be like the night air.

Stay cool.

Eijiro feels so silly. And guilty. And honestly? Really into you. 

You're still wearing that shirt — the one with his face on it. You have opted to put on pants, but Kirishima still reminds himself to keep his eyes on your face. No ogling. That's not very gentlemanly. 

There's a beat of awkward silence as the two of you wait for the other to speak, and Kirishima is the one to break it with a raspy laugh.

"I wanted to apologize about your plants," a large hand moves to rub the back of his neck, "I cleaned up as best I could. I'm really, really sorry."

You wave him off, leaning into the doorframe. "No, it's okay! It's nothing I can't... fix. I think?"

You look beyond him to the catastrophic mess of plant matter. He must have tried tidying up while you rattled off the rapid-fire texts in the group chat. 

Red Riot's face warbles into something tied between mortification and guilt. "Please forgive me."

"Seriously!" you cry, waving your hands as you try to placate his dejected expression, "Please don't feel bad. It's a fair trade, y'know. Those guys upstairs were, like, the worst."

"I can only imagine," Eijiro concedes, frowning a little, "They didn't give you too much trouble, did they?"

You shake your head and laugh a little, "Aside from insulting my favorite hero to my face? Not really."

Kirishima can feel his face get a little hot. He shifts from boot to boot. His smile is a little woozy. "So... you're a fan?"

You don't need to tell him the underwear you have on matches the shirt — red, with an embroidered RR on the front. You keep that to yourself. You just nod happily.

"Really?" his grin cracks into something so excitable it makes your entire stomach flip, "I don't meet a lotta fans who are..."

His words drift off.

He's staring at your eyes. You're so... soft. Warm. Your eyes are swirling with quiet, astonished adoration and it's making Kirishima feel like he's floating. 

"Who are...?" your brow quirks as you lean deeper into the doorframe, trying to coax out the rest of the sentence.

"Gorgeous," he breathes, his posture relaxing a little as he soaks in your expression.

It's like getting sucker punched to the sternum.

All the wind rushed out of your lungs.

The soft moment only lasts a beat, because suddenly Red Riot's face screws up and he waves his hands hurriedly. "Wait, no. Hold on, I mean — all of my fans are gorgeous, because, uh, they're my fans and I love them, right? It's not like they're not gorgeous, I just — I'm... I... My fans are, like, usually dudes? A-And that's totally cool because dudes can be gorgeous, too, y'know? But—"

You're laughing.

Kirishima is realizing he was not paying enough attention in his agency's PR training last month and you're laughing.

"I get it," you giggle, crossing your arms and grinning up at him, "I mean, I definitely don't think I'm gorgeous but—"

"You are," he assures firmly, his expression serious.

Are you dead?

Are you, like, literally ascending to a higher plane right now?

There's no fucking way this is happening. 

Your lips part in quiet shock as you bite back a smile that threatens to cramp up your cheeks. Kirishima eats it up, his posture perking up at the way you seem to melt at his compliment. His smile is boyish — almost dizzy. 

You duck a bashful look towards the tiled floor of the balcony, not really giving a singular shit that your beloved monstera has been stomped on.

Kirishima clears his throat, then — in a move he totally hasn't swooned over in those K-dramas he's secretly obsessed with, that'd be ridiculous — he props his arm up against your door and leans over you. Your faces are close in the warm light of the balcony. 

Your eyes stutter up his abdomen, chest, jaw, lips, and eyes. Kirishima notices. It's really, really cute.

"Are you, uh... Are you seeing anyone?" 

Of course, Red Riot would ask that. Red Riot, the king of chivalry. How is something like that so endearing? For the tenth time tonight, he makes your stomach flip.

You shake your head no, a little too stunned to speak.

"Cool," Eijiro musters over a shake of nerves, "Cool. Okay. Uh, then would it... would it be okay if I bought you some new plants?"

You nod, swallowed entirely by his shadow. He's so fucking huge. 

"And if I took you to dinner?" 

Another nod.

"...And — shit. You're, like, so cute," the smooth persona he's put on melts a little as his eyes roam your face; you feel so... shy, "I was gonna ask you something else but..."

"My number?" you offer, fiddling with the hem of your shirt as you maintain eye contact. 

Is it hot? You're sweating. Is he sweating? He's hot. 

Eijiro nods, absolutely mesmerized by the way you tug your lip between your teeth. "That. Yea."

He has to fight back the urge to bite his knuckle when you turn away and move towards your kitchen to snag your phone. Kirishima stays put, allowing himself one moment of ogling. When you turn around, he's clearing his throat and crossing a boot over his ankle. 

He's still leaning up against the doorway.

"Here," you slip him the phone.

Eiijiro takes it — then hesitates for a second.

"...You're not gonna leak my number, are you?"

You have to laugh. You rub your cheek and shake your head before crossing your arms and looking up at him. "If you think I'm going to do anything to fumble this, you're wrong." 

Fumble this? Fumble him? He's the one that is at risk of fumbling, are you serious?

Eijiro barks out a surprised laugh as he enters his number, shoots a quick text his way then ignores the buzz in his back pocket. He hands your phone back and tries so fucking hard to ignore the way your fingers brush his. 

He got your number.

Holy shit, he got your number.

"Hey, Red Riot?"

He blinks down at you. "Y-Yea?"

You gesture for him to come closer, and he obeys easily — he bends a bit at the waist, his hair falling along his shoulders as he smiles down at you in the threshold of your apartment.

"Is everything alri—?"

You pop a chaste kiss against his cheek. 

Or, try. 

As you hop up onto your tippy toes to kiss his cheek, Eijiro is turning his head at the sound of Urvaity calling his name simultaneously. Trajectory failed, and now it's lips and lips instead of lips on cheek — and honestly? He owes Ochaco one for this. 

Red Riot melts — actually, truly, genuinely melts. His posture slumps down as you let out a shocked little sound of apology. But, Eijiro doesn't mind, and fuck, neither do you — because one hand braces against the doorframe above your head while his other hand is suddenly on your waist. He steadies himself, and damn. Damn. 

He breaks away when Uravity calls his name again. Kirishima is breathless and blushing, and your knees feel like jello. 

"I... Uh, I gotta go—"

"Yea, totally," you breathe, swallowing down the burn of unfiltered attraction, "Sorry, I was trying to kiss your cheek—"

Another call of his name. Red Riot curses softly before hollering a 'COMING!' over his shoulder, out past the edge of the balcony. 

When he turns back, he's fast to sweep you into another kiss — this one hotter than before. This one draws you into his chest, sending your hands colliding with the hot skin of his chest. There's muscle and scars and heat beneath your fingertips. His hand curls around your lower back, and you nearly moan. 

He peels himself away with an apologetic look as he backs towards the edge of the balcony. "I gotta go — I'll text you once patrol is over. Is that okay? I'm serious about the plants. And dinner." 

All you can do is nod.

Eijiro is kinda proud of himself for stunning you stupid with that kiss.

This is exactly the sort of night you needed.

[chunghasweetie]

𝐏𝐇𝐘𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘 𝐎𝐁𝐒𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐃 | J.JK

— part 1

— pairing | dom!oc x nerdysub!jjk

— summary | oc finally cuffs jk and they celebrate

— warning | bad writing (i’m doing my best)

unprotected sex, cursing, praising, dom oc, overstimulation, masturbating, voyeurism(?), pussy eating, squirting, slutty oc

— word count | 3.5k words

— song suggestion | greedy — ariana grande

It went from one study session a week to 3. Then it was 4. Now damn near every single day.

Now she was never apart from him.

He was her little boy toy and he loved every second of it. He was always over at her place and everytime he never left without some sort of mark.

He was so infatuated with her and obsessed. His life was dull and repetitive but now it was thrilling and exciting.

He longed for this girl. All he could think about is her.

Although he still stuttered, he grew a bit of confidence around her.

She knew everything about him and she actually was able to get him to speak to her.

It wasn’t unusual for her to let herself inside his apartment. She’d always come over for sleepovers.

Mostly because she liked bothering him while he was on the game.

Today was one of those days. She packed a bag and let herself into his apartment like usual.

She told him she was going to a frat party with her girlfriends, but she always intended on surprising Jungkook.

She tip toed to his bedroom, opening her mouth to say his name before hearing something she didn’t expect.

He was moaning. Well, whining actually.

“There’s no way.” Her heart dropped.

Was he with another girl?

She remained silent, deciding to peek over at him.

He was in his room, near his PC per usual. The complex set up made it difficult for her to really see what was going on.

She stuck her head a bit further out, taking a look at what was on his screen.

The last thing she expected to hear was Jungkook whimpering out her name, jerking himself off in front of his computer.

Her instagram and many other images he took were displayed on all the screens in his set up.

She stayed hidden, simply hiding and watching him in silence as he continues.

“Y-Y/n— ah”

He was lost in his own world, letting out soft moans as he pleasured himself.

“M-More fuck.” He panted. “F-Feels so good.”

His face was flushed with desire, and his breathing became heavy as he approached his climax.

She was amazed how he was so lost in everything that he hadn’t noticed her standing dead in the doorway.

His glasses slipped down near his nose, not even bothering to push them up. “M-Miss you.”

“S-So pretty” His hand moves quickly, his other hand supporting himself on the desk as he rocks his hips back and forth.

Jungkook let out a soft gasp as he reached his climax, still unaware of her presence.

Jungkook's eyes snap open as he feels his orgasm hit, his whole body shuddering as he cums all over his shirt and laptop.

“S-Shit I-“ He breathed heavily for a moment, trying to catch his breath.

Cum was leaking all over his tip, dripping down his shaft and all over his screen.

“Goddamnit” He cussed with his pouty like voice, ushering to clean himself up.

He grabbed the nearest towel, cleaning himself of the liquids he poured out.

Jungkook had refreshed his feed over 6 times, waiting for her to post. “Come on. Please” He kept refreshing.

Whenever she went out his blood went cold with anxiousness.

Although she was fucking him almost everyday, he worried about getting replaced.

With her friends being the frat boy hopping type, it made him so nervous Y/n would be the same way.

She cleared her throat, finally making her presence known.

Jungkook’s head snapped over to the doorway, heart thumping out of his chest.

“Y/n!” He said a bit loudly, even for him. He cleared his throat. “I-I thought you were at a party.”

Jungkook's face turned bright red with embarrassment as he realized that Y/n could’ve been there the whole time.

“Hi baby” She played it cool, placing her bags on the side of his bed. “What you been up to today?”

He scrambled to cover himself up, wiping the sweat from his forehead as he tried to come up with an explanation for his irrational behavior.

"Well, uh... I was just... studying and on the game." Jungkook stammered out, still flustered from what had just happened.

He knew that it was a feeble excuse, but it was the only thing he could think of at the moment.

“Such a nerd.” She laughed.

Jungkook blushes deeper at her teasing, his gaze darting back and forth between her and the floor.

“Y-Yeah.” He shifts uncomfortably in his seat, his hands fidgeting with the hem of his shirt.

He felt like the words, ‘I masturbated to you’ was painted on his face.

He finally turned to face her, and his jaw immediately dropped.

Jungkook's eyes widen as she slides onto his bed, her mini skirt riding up to reveal a strip of smooth, tanned skin.

“D-Did you um— buy a new outfit?”

He swallows hard, trying to keep his composure as he stares at her, his mind racing with dirty thoughts.

“I actually did. Do you like it baby?” She asked him.

Mini skirts always did her so good. Her body was perfection and today she wanted nothing but Jungkook to notice her skirt.

Jungkook nods, unable to tear his gaze away from the tantalizing glimpse of her thighs.

He was such a nerd they reminded him of the anime’s he would watch.

His voice is barely above a whisper as he replies, "Y-yes, you look really, really pretty."

He licks his lips, his heart pounding in his chest. "M-may I...”

“Words, Jungkook. You’re a big boy remember?”

Jungkook swallows hard, his face turning bright red as he fumbles with his words.

"M-may I... touch it?" He asks, his eyes never leaving her thighs, his hands shaking slightly as he reaches out to gently trace the hem of her skirt.

“Of course baby.” She chuckled at his cuteness. “You can do whatever you want to me. You know that.”

Jungkook's breath hitches in his throat as he hears her words, his heart racing even faster than before.

He nods, his fingers trailing higher up her thigh, slowly, reverently, as if he's afraid that if he touches too quickly, she might disappear. "I-I want to...”

“Jungkook.”

Jungkook swallows hard, his fingers finally reaching the lace of her panties.

He bites his lip, his eyes locked on hers as he asks, his voice barely above a whisper, "May I... touch you here?" His fingers hover just above the wet fabric, his entire body trembling with anticipation.

Jungkook was such a nerd, he pictured her as some anime princess he had seen years ago.

She whined at the sudden feel of his fingers.

Jungkook's eyes light up with excitement as he hears her response, his fingers moving to slide underneath her panties, brushing against her slick folds.

He gasps softly, his eyes widening as he feels how wet she is for him. "A-Ah... you're so wet..."

“All because I seen you earlier.” She chuckled. “You really thought I didn’t see you touch yourself to me baby?”

Jungkook's face turns beet red as he realizes she caught him masturbating to images of her.

He quickly pulls his hand out from under her panties, his other hand flying to cover his face in embarrassment. "I-I... I didn't mean for you to see that..."

“I-I... I didn't know you saw me..." He admits, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Saw you? Baby I heard you. You’re so whiny when you’re needy.” She teased him.

Jungkook's breath hitches as she teases him, his face turning an even deeper shade of red.

He can feel his cock throbbing once again in his pants, desperate to be freed and buried inside of her. "Y-You heard me...?" He asks, his voice trembling with need.

“Of course I did baby. It’s why I was so wet” She slowly slipped his hands out of her panties. “Well, I’m always wet around you.”

Jungkook's hands are left empty as she slips them out of her panties, his fingers twitching with the need to touch her again.

He swallows hard, his eyes fixed on her drenched pussy. "Y-You're always so wet around me...?"

“Always. You know this baby.” She giggled. “You think I’m changing panties for fun when I come over?”

Jungkook's breath hitches as she reveals that she comes to him specifically to be fucked. "N-No... I didn't... I didn't think..."

“You’re so cute!” She laughed, loving the way he stuttered and stammered.

“You know at first when I heard you, I thought you were getting fucked by someone else.” She admitted.

Jungkook's eyes widen with horror as she confesses that she had thought he was getting fucked by someone else when she heard him moaning.

He would never want her to think that of him. Not after all he’s done to finally have her.

He shakes his head vehemently, his cheeks burning with embarrassment. "N-No, no! It was just me...I-I would never I- only want you.”

“I know now.” She exhaled. “But now I realized I can’t keep doing this. Not this way anymore.”

Jungkook's heart sinks.

He looks at her with pleading eyes, his hands reaching for hers. "P-Please... don't say that. I-I really like you...I— I just can’t—“

“I need you to be my mine.” She interrupted, looking up at him. “Need you to be my boyfriend.”

Jungkook's heart races as she tells him she wants him to belong to her. A smile spreads across his face, and he nods eagerly. "R-Really? Y-You want me to be your... boyfriend?"

He can hardly believe what he's hearing.

Jungkook's eyes light up as she confesses her feelings for him. He nods eagerly, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her in for a tight hug. “I-I don’t know what to do I— Never thought this would happen.”

Jungkook's heart swells with happiness as she confesses that she's wanted him to be her boyfriend for a long time.

He can hardly contain his excitement as he pulls her into a tight embrace, his lips finding hers in a passionate kiss. "I-I'm so happy..."

She laughed into their kiss. “You should be baby, I’m all yours now nerd boy.”

He's never been happier to be labeled as such. He tightens his grip on her out of habit, deepening their kiss as he whispers against her lips, "Y-You’re all mine finally.”

He can't believe that this amazing, popular girl is now officially his girlfriend.

He was now dating the girl his high school bullies were fighting over one another for.

Here she was in his room, confessing to him.

She took charge of their make out session, smacking her plump lips against his. “How should we celebrate baby?”

Jungkook can't help but moan at her aggressive kiss, his hands roaming over her body as he gives himself over to the moment.

When she pulls away and asks about celebrating, he stammers out a response, "W-we could do whatever you want...”

“Maybe we can start with taking

care of your little issue down there.” She laughed.

Jungkook's face flames at her comment, but he can't help the small moan that escapes his lips at the thought.

He nods, whispering, "Y-yes please..."

“Speak up for me baby.” She bit her lip, checking him out. “Tell me how you want me.”

Jungkook's mind goes blank at her request, his face flaming even brighter. He stammers out, "I— Uh..."

He takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself down and not get too overwhelmed.

“Breathe baby.” She cooed. “Take it slow.”

“C-Can you get on top of me?” He finally lets out.

Jungkook's breath hitches as she doesn’t hesitate, his hands reaching up to touch her waist.

He watches as she settles herself on top of him, feeling her warmth against him. "F-Fuck..."

“Still so shy” She giggled.

Jungkook's face flames even brighter at her comment, but he can't help the small moan that escapes his lips.

He whispers, "C-Can't help it...you feel so good." He reaches up to touch her face, pulling her down for a kiss.

“And so needy.” She laughed into their kiss.

Jungkook can't help the small whimper that escapes him at her comment, his hands tightening on her waist.

He whispers, "You— make me like that..." He leans up to capture her lips in another kiss, trying to convey all of his feelings to her through it.

“Gonna let you in raw again this time okay? Gonna let you cum wherever you want. Mm on the pill now.” She hummed.

Jungkook's breath hitches as she says those words, his hips bucking up to meet hers.

He whispers, “R-Really?!" He leans up to whisper in her ear, "I-I can cum inside you?"

“Of course baby” She could feel him throbbing under her. “You’re so weak I could dry hump you and make you cum your pants.” She teased him.

Jungkook groans at her words, his hips stuttering with pleasure.

He leans up to kiss her again, his hands roaming over her body. "I want this so bad..." He whispers, "P-Please Y/n?”

“Lift up my mini skirt.”

Jungkook's hands tremble as he reaches up to lift her mini skirt, revealing her lacy underwear.

He groans, "...You're so beautiful Y/n..." He leans down to kiss her inner thigh, his hands gripping her hips tightly.

Jungkook's hands move to her underwear, pulling them down her legs.

He looks up at her with a desperate expression, "C-Can I...make you cum first? P-Please?”

She nodded.

Jungkook's eyes light up at her words, and he leans down to kiss her again.

He whispers, "Thank you..."

Recently, all Jungkook had been wanting to do was eat her out. It’s like he craved it more than actually being inside her.

She tasted so good and she always moaned and spoke so dirty to him while he did it. The praise and appreciation she showed him drove him insane.

Especially because it was all from him.

Usually she was always leading. Whenever he ate her out he felt like he had a bit of power.

Even if he was whining and moaning over her taste.

He lays her down on his bed, spreading her legs for him to access her heat.

His hands roam over her body as he begins to kiss and lick at her clit.

She hums at the feeling of his tongue on her clit. “Always trying to make me cum first hm?”

Jungkook moans at her words, his own arousal growing as he feels her getting closer. He continues to lick and kiss at her clit, his fingers teasing her entrance. He wants to make her cum hard for him.

He continues to lick and kiss at her clit, “S-So sweet.”

Jungkook groans at the feeling of her gripping his hair. He loves when she's like this, so desperate for more.

He quickens his pace, his tongue moving faster over her clit as his fingers slip inside her.

“Tastes so good— fuck” He panted, face absolutely lost in between her thighs.

“Fuck— all that practice fucking paid off.” She groaned. “Fucking amazing baby.”

His own arousal was growing. He's proud of himself for making her feel this good.

He continues to lick and kiss at her clit, his fingers moving inside her. "I-I love it too much— N-Never want to stop.”

“Mm— so good” Her eyelids were practically twitching from how good she felt. “Such a good boy.”

He continues to move his fingers inside her, his tongue still flicking against her clit. "So good…for you…”

Whenever he’d speak his lips would barely leave her clit, not wanting to ever separate himself.

He feels her thighs tighten around his head, and he knows she's close.

“Fuck baby I’m close.” She arched her back.

He curls his fingers inside of her, his tongue still flicking against her clit.

Within seconds and without warning, she squirted all over his mouth, face and glasses.

She gasped aloud, “Oh my gosh!” She covered her mouth. Her legs were trembling, her whole body affected by her intense orgasm.

She squirted for him ever so often, but this one definitely shook up his world.

He was in shock, and he fell further for her than he already had. He felt so accomplished and adored.

She looked down at the soaked boy, his once clean frames now drenched with her liquid arousal.

His mouth was still very attached to her, she had to grip his hair just to separate athe two.

“It’s all over you— and your bed” She reached out, almost embarrassed by how much she squirted.

Jungkook looks up at her with a big grin on his face. He takes off his glasses and wipes them on the sheets before putting them back on.

“That was so—“ He swallowed. “Amazing.”

“Wow baby” She laughed. “You took it a lot better than I thought.”

She eyed him, “Let me fuck you baby.” She laughed. “I know you’re desperate now. Come here.”

He leans his back against the headboard, scrambling to slip down his boxers.

“You’re adorable” She chuckled, climbing onto his lap. “Are you ready?”

Jungkook's cheeks turn a deep shade of red at her compliment, but it only makes him more excited.

He nods his head eagerly and wraps his arms around her waist, pulling her closer to him. "Y-yes... I'm ready... please..."

“Always gotta take care of you baby” She positioned herself on his cock, slowly slipping him inside of her.

Jungkook lets out a deep, guttural moan as she slides down onto his cock. He feels every inch of her, and it's better than anything he could have ever imagined.

He grips her hips tightly, trying to hold back his urge to thrust up into her.

She was so wet.

“Fuck baby” She whined, getting adjusted.

Jungkook nods his head and lets out a soft moan as she adjusts herself on top of him.

He's in heaven right now, and he never wants this moment to end. He looks up at her and smiles softly. "You feel too good-“

“Relax yourself baby.” She comforted him, knowing how overwhelmed he got.

Jungkook blushes and nods his head, biting his bottom lip as he feels her wetness enveloping him. "Y-yes... you're so wet... and tight..."

He was so whiny and needy for her. He was pussy drunk and a desperate mess. She couldn’t help but chuckle a bit.

Jungkook's cheeks turn a deeper shade of red as she chuckles at his eagerness.

He can't help it; he'd never felt this good before her. He looks up at her with puppy dog eyes, pleading for more. "P-please...”

She started moving on him, grinding painfully slow on top of him.

Jungkook lets out a soft moan as she starts to move on top of him, grinding her hips against his.

He can't believe how good it feels, and he wraps his arms around her waist, holding her close. "F-fuck... that feels so good..."

Jungkook's body trembles and shakes as she continues to grind on him, his whines and moans growing louder. He can't help but be overwhelmed by the sensations. "I-I can't...”

Jungkook takes a deep, shuddering breath as she relaxes against him.

He feels her hands on his chest, slowly running them up and down his shirt and he can't help but feel even more overstimulated. "C-can't take it...”

“Want me to stop baby?” She asked him, slowing down on him.

Jungkook shakes his head frantically. He doesn't want her to stop, but he also can't handle the intensity of what she's doing to him. "N-no... just... you’re moving so much and—I-I’m gonna cum too quick... please..."

“Like this?” She grinded on him more intensely, whispering moans and praises in his ear.

Jungkook's whines and moans grow louder as she grinds on him. He can feel every inch of her and it's driving him wild.

He clings to her, whispering her name over and over again. "Y-yes, like that..”

“You always cum too quick baby.” She giggled, “You’re okay Jungkook”

Jungkook's face flushes bright red at the teasing and he buries his face in her neck.

He hates that he always cums so quickly, but he can't help it when she's touching him like this. "I-I'm sorry... I just—“

“Shh” She stopped him mid explanation. “Wouldn’t want it any other way. That’s why you’re my baby.”

He couldn’t help but blush, swallowing harshly.

“Fuck Jungkook— So fucking big and I still can never get used to it.” She groaned.

Jungkook's mind goes blank as she takes control. He can only moan and whimper as she rides him harder and faster.

Her words of praise only fuel his desire, and he clings to her, relishing in the feeling of being dominated by the girl he loves.

“Y/n I—“

Jungkook lets out a low groan as she takes him over the edge. He feels himself pulsing inside her, filling her up with his release.

“How was that baby?” She chuckled. “Better than when you masturbated to me earlier?” She teased, revealing that she seen him.

His face drained of color, in utter horror.

He can't help but feel embarrassed at being caught like that, but the fact that she knows and is still here with him only makes him feel even more loved.

“I thought it was cute— and funny.” She laughed.

His mind goes blank as he collapses on the bed, panting heavily. "F-Fuck I— I’m sorry."

“Whyre you apologizing?” She bit her lip, eyeing him up and down. “That is just how I like to see you. Let’s clean you up baby, we’re gonna go out.”

“C-Can I— we—“ He panted

“Yes Jungkook.” She laughed. “We’ll shower together.”

[arachnoia]

fan favorite | miguel o'hara

in which your little side hobby is being a cam girl, except things get messy when you’re your boss’s fan favorite

pairing- miguel o’hara x fem! reader

tags- nsfw, masterbating, size kink?, afab reader, idk how to make tags ! (perspective also changes from reader and miguel !)

———

“Ohh…Fuck I’m close,” You muttered, playing with your clit as you fingered it more and massaged your tits to the camera.

“Papí, please~” You bit your lip, moaning as much as you could satisfy your viewers. You glanced at the chat and flashed a quick smirk while adjusting your mask that only covered your eyes and nose bridge.

¡M2099 te envio 500 dólares! — “Eres tan bélla, mi hermosa”

You pushed your breasts together and stared at the camera seductively, biting your lip grabbing the nearest sex toy, and teasing your clit with it. “Mmmm fuck…”

Miguel bit his lip as he leaned back in his chair, extending the window to the live stream. He was in his office back in HQ trying to finish some work until he got the notification that you were streaming so he jumped on.

After a random night of feeling sex-deprived, he started searching for different things to jerk of to. Then he found you and he can’t help it. He’s addicted.

He’s addicted to the way you moan ever so breathlessly.

He’s addicted to the way you mutter sweet nothings quietly while almost reaching your high.

He’s even addicted to the way you stare at the camera as if you’re actually staring right at him, begging him to stuff his fat, fucking, hard cock down your tight little pussy. And don’t even get him started on the little spider tattoo you have on the right side of your ribcage.

He liked to think that you got it in honor of Spiderman because he’s Spiderman. The thought of that alone made him want to cum already.

He looked at your arched position and closed in on your soaked pussy, all swollen and red due to you abusing your clit in pleasure.

“Oh fuck, mami…” He started to pump his cock with the same speed you were flicking your clit, almost moaning in unison.

How he would love to have your pretty pink lips around his cock, sucking like your life depended on it.

How he would even live to bend you over and fuck you like the little slut you are for him, marveling over your plump ass.

How he would love to have your tiny hands scratching down his back for balance as he fucks you, small and breathlessly whimpering below him.

Just as he was going to cum, you let out an almost pornographic moan and licked your fingers clean as you winked at the camera.

“I’ll see you next time, hermosos. Besos~!”

He stared at you in awe as you shut off the live stream, still fantasizing about you.

It happened too quick and he was sent back to reality once the office was quiet. He looked down and frowned.

He was still hard.

———

Once you switched off the camera and made sure it was off, you groaned in annoyance, “So fucking annoying.”

You took down the backdrop from your living room, adjusted the curtains and laid down on your bed. You glanced at your watch and Spider suit hanging from your closet and covered your eyes. You felt kind of grateful that the apartment complex allowed you to make the walls soundproof. Ever since moving to Earth -928 and refusing to work for a huge corporation, you have needed the money. You went over to shower and put on some sweats.

You threw yourself on your mattress and grabbed your favorite plush. You started turning on your computer to watch your favorite show, feeling like you were finally alone in your thoughts.

That is until your watch started beeping.

You grabbed your blanket and frantically put your hair in a low ponytail, grabbing your watch to see what happened.

Lyla popped out and waved, “Hi Y/N!”

You couldn’t help but frown at her presence. She’s great but now was obviously not the time to call, “Yes, Lyla?”

“Miguel wanted me to remind you that you’re going to be with Jess and Hobie tomorrow. And don’t be late! Anyways bye!”

You nervously waved, “Bye..?”

You rolled your eyes. Of course, Miguel would bother you this late at night to bitch at you. It was annoying and you honestly didn’t care what he was going to tell you. You were going to try to be early.

———

“Y/L/N! You’re late!”

You winced at Miguel’s stern voice. You woke up late by accident and tried to sneak into his office where you were met with Hobie and Jessica who waved at you.

“Hi, Miguel!” You chirped, waving cheerfully. You wanted to die.

“Morning, Y/N,” Jess smiled.

You went over to her and hugged her gently, “How are they?”

“Well they kicked so far and-“

“Can you not? We have a mission to go on.”

You frowned at Miguel who sneered at you. In all honesty, he’s good-looking and you’d definitely fuck if he gave you the chance. You can see why some girls would like him, but that doesn’t stop him from being a dick.

He always would target you due to your carefree demeanor in contrast to his strict composure.

“Who spat on his breakfast?” Hobie frowned. He sat on top of a huge metal piece that was scattered throughout the space and was playing with a nearby cord.

“I expect every single one of you to follow my lead. Especially a certain someone, Y/L/N.” He narrowed his eyes toward you, which made you glare back.

Again, if he didn’t target you, you’d wanna fuck.

———

“What the fuck?”

You could see why you needed exactly four to handle the anomaly.

As everyone started to attack the anomaly, you started to swing at him full force, using some of your previous fighting experience to knock him down. It wasn’t until it hit back, throwing you across and heading your direction, and threw a sharp piece of metal, cutting the side of your ribcage. You yelled out in pain before you could even start attacking more.

“I fucking hate this,” you groaned and ripped the hole in your suit bigger, exposing your bloodied side a bit more by an inch to let the cut air out.

You felt bad just staying there until Hobie and Miguel apprehended the anomaly while Jess put it in a force shield.

“So incompetent…” Miguel rolled his eyes as he looked at you, “Can I? Or are you going to be a little bitch and-“

“Shut the fuck up.”

You glared at him, who smiled smugly. He was a cocky piece of shit sometimes.

He studied your injured figure, furrowing his eyebrows and squinting at your side to look at it further. He looked like the personification of confusion due to the look on his face.

“Go ahead, O’Hara,” you laid on your other side for him to see.

“Okay…” His usually stern voice had a bit of a crack and you felt like laughing a bit before he cleared his throat, “Lyla, scan her.”

Lyla popped out as her usually cheery self, “Hi Miguel! Hi Y/N! Ooo that does not look good-“

“Lyla.”

“Mkay!”

She let the orange-yellow holographic screen go through you, showing your results in a small screen. “Okay. Considering you just got off a mission, your heart rate is a bit high but get that cut checked.”

“Yeah, sure sure- SHIT!”

You felt completely off guard when you felt Miguel carry you. “It’s not like I could have you fail to walk too. Pendeja.”

Lyla giggled and smiled, “So-”

“Bye, Lyla.”

She rolled her eyes and saluted, disappearing a second later.

You rolled his eyes, peering over at Jess and Hobie who laughed at you. It was fucking embarrassing to be carried by your own boss who thinks you’re incompetent.

“Where are we going?” You breathed out. And before you knew it, you were at the infirmary at HQ, the area completely bare of people. You gasped as he immediately placed you on a cold metal table.

“Where do you think?”

You could slap the smug look off his face. You frowned and looked away. It didn’t help that he loves to make eye contact so every time you talked, you had to look into his ruby red eyes, which killed you inside.

“Take off your suit.”

You whipped your head in his direction and had your mouth agape, “What the fuck did you-“

“Oh shut up. It’s not in that way, I just want to see your cut. Plus it’s probably nothing I haven’t already seen before.”

You didn’t know what to say. His words were glazed with arrogance and it intimidated you more than usual.

You obliged and started stripping off your suit before laying back down. You felt slightly embarrassed since you were practically naked, only left in your bra and panties and it was in front of your boss.

He scanned your body, eyes staying on your ribcage, and pursed his lips. He had a pensive look on his face as he looked at you and sighed, “I’m going to clean your cut.”

Okay.

“Alright…”

You felt tense, literally could be able to cut the tension with a knife, “No mames, you need to be more careful,”

“Yeah, I guess…”

“Can’t have my hermosa hurt.”

You felt your blood run cold, peeking over to look at him and his smug face, “What?”

His face made you feel unsure of what he said. Maybe you misheard. Maybe you were delirious due to the injury. It wasn’t that bad but you did lose some blood.

“What did you just say?”

“Oh, nothing…”

You sighed a bit, shivers going down your spine as his fingertips brushed on your skin, cringing at the sting of the alcohol that was rubbing against your wound.

“Stings?”

“Yeah.”

His fingers danced around a particular spot, caressing it gently, “You have a nice tattoo here.”

“Mhm. Thank you.”

———

To say Miguel was baffled was an understatement.

You couldn’t be?

The annoying Spider he trains? Be the seductive streamer he watched every day?

That couldn’t be.

The tattoo looked almost too similar. It looked almost identical to the one she had. If it was you, he wouldn’t know how to feel.

Even though he targets you, he couldn’t help but feel a bit fond of you. You’re incredibly talented and flexible but you just have to argue back with him.

Your eyes were similar yes, but the thought was eating him up inside. He had to find out.

He can’t recall what he thought when he swung over to your quarters a few blocks away from headquarters in downtown Nueva York, and caught you playing with yourself behind closed doors. Moaning the exact way his favorite streamer would.

Such a whiny submissive voice.

He wanted to open the door, yes, but it would be too sudden. Too…

“Miguel?”

Your voice sounded tired, as if you were barely running a fucking marathon. He could hear your accelerated heartbeat, your small breaths while you spoke. And it made him want to go absolutely feral.

“Yes? Hi.”

He sounded shy, which was in complete contrast to his aggressive attitude.

“Why are you here?”

The entire apartment was dark, only being shined by moonlight from your wide windows overlooking Nueva York.

“Your cut…Is it fine?”

“Yeah…”

You looked up at him, nervously biting your lip, “Why are you here?”

He pursed his lips and ran his fingers through his hair, “I wanted to see how you were. Y’know, so I can know if you can perform well tomorrow…and later in the night.”

It wasn’t until he looked down that and saw you, still gripping the sex toy you had previously used on yourself.

He started walking closer to you slightly, “What do you have there?”

You appeared to get flustered and backed away from him.

“N-Nothing.”

He reached for your arm to see the pink dildo, his eyebrows raising and a smile playing at his lips to your flushed face.

“Doesn’t look like nothing.”

The way he looked at you made you even more aroused. Your wistful expression made him hard as you helplessly gazed at him, your features accentuated beautifully by the moonlight.

With that, he kissed you, surprised by you dropping the dildo and kissing him passionately. He caressed your ass while doing so and lifted you up, carrying you to your bedroom.

He laid you on the bed, taking off your clothes and getting rid of his suit at a press of a button. Your expression was full of surprise and that stroked his ego immensely. He began caressing your breasts whilst kissing at your neck, leading down to your stomach and upper thighs. You threw your head back, clawing at his back as he started to flick his tongue against your clit.

“F-Fuck…Miguel!”

He felt you squirm in pleasure as he kept thrusting his tongue, his fangs teasing your folds. He couldn’t help but smile at your aroused nature.

As soon as you were going to cum already, you screamed, scratching at his shoulders, “Please…Miguel!”

He stood up, licking his fingers and smiling, “Eres tan dulce.”

Your eyes went to his his hard cock erected. The view made you whine and bite your lip, “You’re so big! Miguel, what if you don’t fit…”

“Don’t worry, mami. I’ll fit…”

This is what he wanted. And you looked so beautiful.

“Eres tan bélla, mi hermosa…”

And before he was going to thrust into you, finally diving into your wet, tight pussy, he woke up in a cold sweat. He looked over to his bedstand clock, marking it 2:34 in the morning.

He shifted around his sheets and felt his dick hard.

“Fuck…”

.

.

masterlist — part two

sol's notes- this was also just a drabble! thank you guys so much on everything and requests are open!!

tags - @ashanomly @obi-mom-kenobi @tojisbabygworl @toaffes

[oatmealthighs]

𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐡 | 𝐠𝐨𝐣𝐨 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

A simple proposal to play Smash turns into something more devious.

contents: nsfw. 18+, minors DNI. afab!reader, gojo lowkey (highkey) got a god complex, oral (fem & male receiving), penetration. illustration belongs to @momoya348 on twt!

“Wanna play smash?”

“Sure, after I finish this.” Gojo motioned his head towards his laptop, which wobbled unsteadily in its place atop your ass. The two of you were in a peculiar position: you were both on his bed, his upper back against the pillows he had fluffed nicely against his headboard. You were laying on top of him, your upper body resting in between his long, spread legs and your pelvis resting against his stomach.

A clean 69, if you will.

“Alriiight,” you sighed heavily, thumbs jerking the control sticks to your Nintendo switch controller tiredly. you looked at the tv with a bored look, not even phased by the flashing lights and eye-strains that the bright screen gave off.

Although Gojo was busying himself with a last-minute essay for his composition theory class, he always took breaks in between each sentence to grip the backs of your thighs, the pads of his soft fingers massaging the tender skin of the insides of your legs. It seemed as if he would get closer to the middle of your legs with each stroke, a thumb brushing dangerously at your groin before quickly pulling away and setting his hands back on his keyboard.

Unbeknownst to you, he was barely getting anything done, his crystal eyes unable to look anywhere but at your clothed pussy for the past fifteen minutes. You only being clad in one of his stretched T-shirts and your favorite-colored panties when you crawled into his lap was worse than salacious, and he was sure you were doing this on purpose. He noticed the way you’d roll your hips whenever you’d win a round, or how the goosebumps against your skin would protrude every time he’d lay a finger on you.

“Are you winning, sweetheart?” Gojo asked curiously, moving his laptop from on top of you to his crowded nightstand, pushing some things toward (and over) the ledge in the process.

You hummed a yes in response, eyes trained on your character’s movements as your brows were furrowed in concentration. The white-haired man let out a breathy chuckle, large hands engulfing your thighs once again and digging playfully into your sensitive skin. You seemed to relax at his touch, a small curl playing at the end of his lips as his long fingers slowly skated north.

You decided to not think much of it-- maybe he’d just play with your ass like he always did when he was bored. You purse your lips, frown deepening as you fell and lost a life. “Damn,” you cursed, watching your character respawn at the top. “My dumbass fell.”

“Oh? You better win,” Gojo reprimanded lightheartedly, his thumb gently brushing the outside lip of your dressed pussy, making your breath hitch. “don’t disappoint me, my dear.”

“‘Course not, do you know who I am?” You bantered, trying to overlook the rising heat in between your legs and fight your instinct to close them. However, your arousal was more than evident, your slick already beginning to soak a small spot into the cotton fabric of your undergarments. Gojo smirked cheekily, tongue dragging over his top lip hungrily as his thumb moved again. He applied more pressure, the pad grazing your moist slit teasingly as his other hand gripped one of your cheeks, pads digging into your flesh.

You looked back at him with a warning look, but he knew it held no weight, your expression clearly wavering. He responded with a cheeky grin, pearly whites showing as he questioned, “What?”

You chewed on your bottom lip, your grip on the controller beginning to slip as a result of hands becoming clammy. Your character fell again, resulting in you losing the match and sending you to the results screen, but you didn’t care, instead instinctively pushing your ass back to meet Gojo’s now still thumb. He loved making you work for it, no matter how subtle the matter was.

He didn’t let you play with yourself for too long. “Hey, let’s play a game,” he broke the lust-filled tension, head tilting playfully as he looked at the T.V. screen. You craned your head over your shoulder, looking at his cyan irises through his wispy white bangs with questioning eyes.

“You don’t wanna play Smash?”

“It’s something related to that.”

“... I’m listening.”

He chewed at his lip, a furtive expression painting his features as he cut his eyes back to your crotch. He took the courtesy of rolling his thumb compassionately over your neglected clit, making you drop your head with a shaky sigh. You shuddered as he rubbed tight, slow circles around your bud, him relishing the small mewls you let slip through your gritted teeth.

“Gojo...” you breathed, eyebrows crinkled together as you rocked your hips harder, grasp on the controller turning into a death grip.

“This is how it will go,” he chirped as if nothing was happening, removing his hands from your lower body to grab your waist. With a simple pull, he tugged you upwards, your ass now brushing the tip of his nose, his cool breaths making your cunt twitch. “You’re gonna play the game while I make you cum. Sound fun?”

You blinked, weary eyes looking back at your boyfriend with perplexity, readying yourself to complain about how unfair this was. “Gojo-,”

“But, you have to win. Otherwise,” he blew a slow, chilled breath against your pussy, making you shiver and attempt to buck your legs closed, but to no avail. “there will be a punishment.”

“Punishment?” you echoed unsurely, looking at him from the corner of your eyes with a growing hunger. He glanced right back at you, half-lidded eyes making butterflies break from their cocoon in your stomach.

“Start the game.” He disregarded your question, instead handing out demands. It was simple and held no weight, but you moved with a purpose, selecting “random” and letting the game select a character for you. Palutena. Okay, you could make this work. You quickly chose a stage.

“3, 2, 1, GO!” The announcer boomed, and Gojo seemed to work on the same accord, his thumb hooking into the fabric and slipping your panties to the side with ease. He didn’t spare a second, his long, wet tongue gliding in between your slicked folds with a heavy lick.

“Hah!” You choked out a gasp, moist hands nearly losing grip on your controller almost instantly. Your hips bucked upwards, but he had beat you to it, strapping you down with his long arms as he enveloped your swollen clit with his pink lips. He smirked against your pussy, finding it hilarious that you thought he didn’t have you and your tactics figured out by now.

“Focus.” He growled, the bass in his voice sending intense vibrations throughout your entire body. He hummed huskily, frosty eyelashes fluttering closed at your saccharine taste along his tongue. “Damn, it should be a crime for you to taste this sweet.”

“Gojo, I— fuuuuck,” you sighed greatfully as the tip of his tongue flicked your bud wolfishly before pulling it in between his lips, swirling generous circles around your hardened bundle of nerves with a groan. You let out a lengthy moan of ecstasy when you felt a slender finger sink into your heat, probing at your insides with practiced movements. Gojo watched his finger repeatedly curl in and out of you, your essence coating his finger with no problem. The smacking sounds of your wetness made his dick twitch under you, but you were far too wrapped up in erotic euphoria to take note of it— which was okay. “I don’t think this is for me...”

“Tapping out already, gorgeous?” Gojo teased you with a smile against your dripping cunt, slipping a second finger inside of you without a hitch. You gasped at the burning stretch, but it soon faded into something more pleasurable, making the coil in your stomach already beginning to spiral and tighten. “I haven’t even fucked you with my tongue yet.”

You whimpered as a response, reluctantly guiding your character across the screen through lust-clouded eyes. You’ve already fucked up twice, if it happened again, you’d be fucked. Literally.

A sharp crack against your ass quickly brings you back to reality, making you yelp and squirm under Gojo’s deathgrip. “I asked you a question, [name]. You’d best answer me.”

“No! I can take it, please… keep going, shit!” You scolded yourself internally for being so desperate, but you knew it always winded up to you being in this same predicament; trembling under his soft touches and racy gestures. Gojo hummed in approval, curling his fingers in search of your special spot that he usually found within seconds. He proved you right, the pads of his fingers pressing against your spongy spot, warranting you to release a cry. You were beginning to regret your declaration of accepting this “challenge” in the first place, because you felt your orgasm steadily approaching, less than minutes away.

You didn’t even notice that you died and lost, opening your eyes to see you were back at the character selection menu. Your eyes widened in horror, and you began praying to the gods that Gojo hadn’t noticed, but who were you kidding? He never failed to pick up on the details, no matter how minor.

“Tsk, tsk,” he sighed, a mocking tone of disappointment present as he pulled away from your lips. You whined at the halt of his ministrations, attempting to rock your pussy against his face to get a rhythm back in swing, but to no avail. He nudged you off of him, standing to his feet with his arms crossed. His shirt rose up his waist, exposing his excessively-toned stomach and light happy trail wisping under the band of his sweatpants. His arousal made itself known, a thick erection straining at the baggy material of his sweats. “I’m disappointed, sweetheart. I didn’t even get to make you cum.”

You dropped your controller, the object making a loud clatter as it hit the wooden floor, but you didn’t quite care. You crawled towards your boyfriend who loomed over you with a let-down, yet teasing look, dainty hand reaching out to grab at his sweatpants. Before you could yank them down, he caught a grip on your wrist, tilting his head to the side. “Aht, aht, aht; do you really think you deserve to get stretched out by me when you can’t even play a simple game correctly?”

You pouted, straining your strength against his own while adjusting your position on the edge of the bed. You decided to settle on your haunches, looking up at your lover with pleading eyes. “Gojo, please, let me taste you.”

“Is this compensation? Trying to make me overlook your failure?” He lilted, voice dropping lower an octave as his eyelids began to lower with lust. You nodded, a hungry gleam in your wide eyes as you reached your free hand out to tug at his bottoms. He let you, also releasing your other hand and letting you do as you pleased. You didn’t bother to waste a moment, letting his pants drop to his ankles and only being left with his briefs constraining his thick length. Before you could go any further, Gojo cupped your chin, making you look back up at him with a squeeze of your cheeks. “Hey,” he breathed, perfect eyebrows pulling together in concentration as he stared down at you with a prurient intensity. You nodded, informing him you were listening with an attentive look. “You better not leave me dissatisfied, am I understood?” With that, he dipped his thumb into your mouth, pulling it slowly down your bottom lip. You nodded again, batting your lashes as you busy your fingers with freeing his dick from its restraints.

Gojo’s impeccable size never failed to impress; his girthiness was what you liked most about it, its thickness always stretching and rubbing your walls in all the ways you loved. His length wasn’t bad at all either, nothing excessive about it, and always was sure to get the job done. Your fingers brushed against his shaft caringly, admiring the thin veins that decorated it perfectly and the occasional freckle here and there. You glanced at his flushed tip, precum already beading there, and you flicked your tongue out to catch a taste.

Gojo’s breath hitched, quad muscles contracting for a quick second. You didn’t feel like playing around anymore, going for the kill and wrapping your lips around the head of his dick with a moan. He let out a lengthy sigh, running a hand through his soft hair as he swallowed. You took him in deeper with each suck, the sloppy sounds of your tongue running repeatedly across his length and the background music of Smash an odd combination. Gojo let out a deep groan at the feeling of his tip finally reaching near the back of your throat, the simple sound music to your ears and making you want to squeeze more reactions from him.

You squeezed your eyes shut as you bobbed your head at a mildly quick pace, the sounds your throat was emitting almost comical, but you didn’t care that much. You were too focused on making Gojo release in your mouth, wanting to taste his essence just as he did you a few minutes ago. Your pussy contracted around nothing as you thought about how he might fill you to the brim after this, ramming you into the bed like he hated you.

Gojo’s noises of pleasure were becoming more apparent, his gasps and sighs morphing into groans and grunts. “Fuck, that’s right, mhm. Suck it like you mean it.” You let out a mewl as you opened your watery eyes, staring up at him with blurry vision. You could make out the reddening tips of his ears and the developing flush spreading across his cheeks, his bangs beginning to cling to his moist forehead. His pupils were blown wide, and his vivid electric blue eyes seemed to be illuminating. Beautiful, you thought, but your admiration was short lived when you felt slender fingers gripping at your tresses. With a push, Gojo’s dick was sent to hit the back of your throat, making you widen your eyes as you let out an embarrassing gag. He retreated, slipping out of your mouth with a string of spit keeping his tip and your bottom lip connected. You let out a short cough, gasping for air as you blinked harshly.

“You okay?” He questioned, and you quickly gave him a yes, reaching back out for him. He shook his head, pushing your arm away before giving you a nudge to make you fall back onto his mattress. “No. I’ve had enough, I’m pleased. Your reward now, yeah?”

You let out a squeal of glee along with a nod as Gojo rolls you on your stomach, using both large hands to hook your hips and manually pull your ass up. You got the gist, making a curve in your spine and poking your ass out in the angle that he loves. He hummed, teeth pinching his bottom lip as a heavy hand palmed your ass, tightly gripping the flesh there. You yelped at the stinging sensation, fisting the sheets and leaning forward as if trying to get away from the fiery touch. Gojo clicked his tongue, soothing his engraved handprint with a gentle palm, the other hand busy playing with your clothed pussy. He furrowed his brows, annoyed with the barrier and kneeling to yank them down your thighs.

The string of arousal linking your underwear to your cunt made Gojo let out a breathy moan of excitement, frosty lashes fluttering at the sight of your slicked pussy. The way he had you dripping like a broken faucet was just fueling his already gigantic ego. He wasn’t planning on tasting you anymore tonight, but he couldn’t resist, using both hands to spread your cheeks and leaning in to lick you once more. He generously french-kissed your pussy, lovingly grazing over your swollen clit as his heavy eyelids fell closed. You twitched, mouth falling agape and letting out a keen at the feeling of his soft tongue against you once again. Your orgasm seemed to rise like nothing, this time boiling over. You didn’t dare warn him— knowing him, the asshole would pull away and leave you hanging. A white hot feeling burst in your stomach and spread throughout your limbs, your pussy pulsating and your back arching deeper than it’s ever had. You let out a cry as you felt your release hit you like a wave, thighs trembling and Gojo letting out a hum of approval, clearly not dissatisfied with you cumming in his mouth.

“Sweetheart, why didn’t you tell me you were cumming? Are we keeping secrets now?” He queried in, standing up to his feet and using his thumb to scrape any excess slick from his chin up onto his tongue. You looked back at him in amazement, eyes widening at his lewd behavior. You narrowed your eyes, brows furrowing defensively at his comment. “Well, if I did tell you, you’d just ruin it for me.”

A playful smack to your sensitive cunt shut you up, making you turn away and stuff your face in the covers with a gasp. You said something into the sheets, immediately being ruled intelligible since you were muffled. “What was that, gorgeous?” He teased, gently massaging your ass as he teasingly slid his shaft against your soaked folds. He hissed, eyebrows pushing together at the feeling of your warm pussy constantly rubbing at him. As much as he wanted to slip deep inside you and fuck you into his mattress as if he’d never see you again, he refrained, his ego not letting him submit to anyone, including you.

“Just fuck me already, dammit,” you came out with it, temporarily lifting your head to say what was needed before shoving your face back into the same spot. Gojo usually would have corrected you with a sharp ass slap, or chastise you for asking so rudely, but he was just as horny as you, wasting no time to position his tip at your entrance. He slowly began easing his way in, his tip pushing past and already stretching at your tight walls, making him furrow his brows in concentration and let out a shaky sigh.

The stinging stretch was something you never got used to, the familiar burn of tears brimming to your water-lines also nothing new. You turned your head to the side, attempting to keep your breathing steady and collected as Gojo slowly worked the rest of him into you, bottoming out sooner than later. He let out a sigh, rubbing small circles into the small of your back while craning his head to look at you. “You okay? Want me to start movin’?”

You nodded, eyes screwed shut as a tear slipped and ran across your nose bridge. He cooed, reaching forward to brush it away with a tender thumb before giving you a sensual roll of his hips. You gasped, fisting the cotton sheets for moral support as he gave you baby strokes, his eyes gauging your face in search of accommodation. He soon felt you considerably loosen around him, your small whines of pain morphing into something more erotic, breathy. This was his green light, his hands moving to dig into your love handles as his thrusts gradually picked up pace and power.

“Fuck, yes!” you cried, shifting your face into one of the pillows in attempts to muffle your sounds, which Gojo decided to let slide for now. He placed an arm on your back, pushing your stomach into the mattress and hooking your hip with his other to keep your ass up, beginning to snap his hips into you rather aggressively.

“That’s right, I’m the only fucking one that can make you feel like this, understand me?” He growled lowly, his arrogance oddly making you squeeze around him like a vice. He chuckled at your reaction, a moan slipping at the end of his laugh as he dragged his dick out to the tip and plunged back in you with a snap of the pelvis. You let out a scream of satisfaction, which was constricted by the pillow you were biting, making him frown in annoyance.

“Why are you hiding your sounds? What, you don’t want anyone to know that you’re getting the best dick of your life?” He leaned down, his clothed stomach stacking atop your back, hand moving from the middle of your back and slithering under your shirt to your tit. He gave it a grip, immediately fiddling with the hardened nipple as he flicked his tongue out to lick the shell of your ear. He continued to scold you, “You always worry about my neighbors. Let them know who’s fucking you brainless.”

Your mind is too hazy to process even a syllable of what he was saying. Your face was starting to sweat from the heat of your heavy breathing and you keeping your face shoved in the pillow below you, one hand furiously gripping at the sheets while the other flexed and unflexed over the edge of the bed. The sounds of skin slapping skin, your pussy squelching with each thrust, your suppressed cries of pleasure, his headboard unforgivingly bashing the wall behind it, the background music of your damn video game, it would have been ruled perfect if you weren’t being shy.

Dissatisfied with not warranting any type of reaction from you, Gojo took his hand from your perked nipple and smoothed it over your perspiring skin and up to your hair, slender fingers latching onto your locks and yanking your head back. You let out a wail at the fiery feeling of your scalp being tugged at so roughly, but it only made you continue to flutter around his thickness, which made him push his white brows together and let out a sharp hiss. “Stop hiding from me,” he huskily demanded, his strokes seeming to gradually plunge and probe you deeper as he angled your eyes to meet his hovering figure above you. “Let them hear what I’m doing to you.”

“Gojo, I’m gonna fucking…” you trailed off, growing too overwhelmed with everything. You were trembling, unraveling from his touch, coming undone like a ribbon under his moist body, but was it anything new? He let out a lengthy groan, pressing your face back into the pillows and keeping his hand in place, but making you turn your head to the side so he could successfully dip his thumb into mouth. You managed to recuperate yourself enough to the point where you could wrap your lips around the digit, giving it a courteous suck before your jaw fell slack once again from Gojo’s ministrations. He was pounding you at this point, your arch evanescing, you just laying on your stomach and taking it as Gojo plunged into you from behind. He was getting close too, the occasional faults and stutters in his hips becoming more frequent and his thrusts getting downright sloppy, but you loved it all.

“You gonna cum for me?” he inquired, his voice wavering from his own pleasure. You nodded with a cry, eyes closed at this point. Gojo smiled, a breathy chuckle managing to escape him as he egged you on, “Good, make a fucking mess, will you?” He didn’t have to ask you twice.

With a guttural groan tearing from your throat, you came, this orgasm hitting you much harder than the first. You shuddered rather violently, eyes almost getting stuck in the back of your head as that same scorching heat overwhelmed every bone in your body, leaving you completely in euphoria. Gojo let out a moan of approval at you finally coming undone, your orgasm very much apparent on his dick. The white coating you left behind made his toes curl. He relished in it as much as he could until he felt himself tittering on the edge himself, his eyes fluttering closed and rolling back as he slammed into you a couple more times before he let out a growl of his own, sighing and hissing as he rode out his own orgasm inside you.

“Jesus, that felt like a lot,” you commented with a tired laugh after Gojo unsheathed himself from you, kneeling and spreading you to watch his excess ooze out of you. He hummed in agreement, tilting his head at your pussy before standing to his feet and flipping you over. You gave him a quizzical glance, soon yelping as you felt him squirm his fingers under your sides and scoop you up bridal style. “Gojo, quit it, I can walk by myself, dammit!”

“Can you really, though? You always trip and fall when we’re done,” he snidely retorted, giving you a teasing look as he escorted you to the restroom. After nudging the door open with his foot, he nodded your head to the lightswitch for you to flip it on, which you complied to. He then took the initiative of plopping you onto the sink before rummaging through his linen closet, receiving a brand new rag and soaking it with lukewarm water. You spread your legs, already knowing the procedure like the back of your hand as you watch Gojo ring the towel and make his way in between your straddled legs. With gentle hands, he began cleaning you off, softly running the rag over your overstimulated crotch with care. You sighed at the relief of it being freshened up; bodily fluids weren’t half as appealing post-sex.

“So,” Gojo started, his chipper voice slicing through the comfortable silence of the bathroom. “You still up for getting your ass beat at Smash?”

“You wish.” You retorted, giving him a challenging smirk as he finished cleaning you up.

“Okay, let’s make a bet,” he hummed, wetting and ringing the rag once again before tossing it over a metal rack. “Loser has to make dinner. And I’m talkin’ a full course meal.”

You gave him a playful shove, scooting off the counter and falling to the tiled floor on both feet. You gave him a testing grin, skipping -- albeit shakily, back into Gojo’s room. “You’re on.”

oatmealthighs ©️.

[sicbaby]

two words .. stalker Leon!

oh yes…. my favorite leon <3

he’s so sweet and such a gentleman on the outside. but then he meets you. you’re so pretty, a little older than him and he feels like he’ll never have a chance with you. it unlocks a dark, fucked up side of him he never thought he had.

being a cop gives him a lil bit of a power trip.. he develops a complex over it. even though he’s too shy to actually approach you, he’ll use his cop skills to get around, just to see you.

at first it’s coincidental, at least, that’s what u think. he finds out ur favorite coffee shop and meets u there every morning. police officer kennedy. he’s an attractive young man, cute and sweet and super polite.

he’ll sit in his patrol car outside of your work. waits for u to get out if it’s slow and he’ll follow close behind, memorizing your schedule.

hes satisfied with just this for a few weeks. your short interactions in the morning at the coffee shop are enough for him. until it isn’t.

it’s like there’s an itch deep inside of him that he can’t scratch, can’t get rid of. he’s had enough following you around, jerking off in his patrol car outside of your work thinking about you.

he starts breaking into your house. it’s easy. he’s a cop, and you’re just a dumb girl who lives alone and accidentally left her back window unlocked.

he’s careful, not wanting to rearrange things to the point where it’s noticeable. he steals a few of your panties, and not the clean ones in your drawer.

sometimes he’ll break in just to nap in your bed, smelling you in the sheets until he’s drifted off into a comfortable slumber. other times he’ll use your dirty panties to jerk himself off, cumming in them so he doesn’t get your bed all dirty.

like i said before, cop power trip. he suddenly has a master plan. he starts stealing small items one by one, until you finally notice. you’re on edge, thinking you’re crazy.

you come into the coffee shop one morning, constantly staring off into space until leon asks you what’s wrong.

you confide in him, too easily. but he’s a cop, isn’t he? and he’s so sweet, he’ll be sure to take you seriously and help you out. “i’m sorry to hear that, miss. but rest assured, i won’t let anyone harm you. i’ll personally look into this matter and make sure you’re safe.”

he asks to come over, see if there’s any sign of a break in. he tells you that you “shouldn’t be alone in a time like this.” he drives you over to your house in his patrol car. you’re so easy.

he takes his time with you, though. making sure to listen to your every concern, walking around the house and observing everything closely.

but inside he felt so damn powerful, having you place so much trust in him was turning him on. you had no idea.

“you know, i’ve really gone above and beyond to assist you here. it’s only fair that you show me some appreciation now.”

he walks forward, gripping your chin tightly and forcing you to look at him. “thank me.” he commands, voice low.

you mumble out a quick thank you, your heart racing in fear.

“good girl.”

“now get on your knees. show me how grateful you really are.”

he’s surprised at how quickly you comply. though that confused and worried look on your face is so cute to him.

you were trembling, hands shaking as you reach out to touch him once he gets his cock out for you. he’s painfully hard, and you wonder how long he’s been that way.

he grabs fistfuls of your hair as you suck on his cock messily. your submission and your obedience surprises yet pleases him so much.

this was his reward, his twisted satisfaction, as you fulfilled your duty to thank him for his supposed help. and as you succumbed to his control, leon knew that you were finally his. his to possess, to dominate, and to use as he pleases.

youre sucking him so good, he starts groaning a bunch of different shit. mixture of praise and degradation. he lets it slip that he’s your stalker, the one that’s been stealing your panties and other valuable items from your home, as if it wasn’t already obvious enough.

though your eyes widen, pausing your ministrations on his cock and looking up at him. tears fill your eyes.

“such a pathetic little slut. you thought you could escape me, didn’t you? but now, you’re here, on your knees, ready to serve me. and those tears? they only make me want you more.”

he relishes in his power even more, grabbing your hair roughly and forcing you to continue. your tears, those pretty little desperate sounds escaping your throat only made the experience more pleasurable for him. he wanted nothing more than to degrade you, break you until you were nothing.

he’d definitely keep you forever after that. cover up your disappearance. make you his sweet little housewife that no one knows about. his pretty little secret <3

[grimesgirll]

Do you take requests? If so I’d love to see a Rick x reader where he watches reader in the shower and maybe jerks off to it. One day she notices him and asks him to join her

it’s a filthy thing he’s doing.

steam fogging up the glass and bursting around you, you’re oblivious to the onlooker to your nightly shower.

watching you like this has to go down on the list of the grimiest things he’s ever done.

despite being a shining example of a redemption story and someone he could trust, rick wants nothing more than to spend an evening with you face down beneath him. your hands on him, his on you; rick craves you in so many ways.

observing from the doorway already has him palming his hard on. through the mist, your erection stirring figure is obvious and rick has underestimated how painfully hard he is. it wouldn’t be the first time he’s fantasized with you around.

on the road once, you were on your knees tending to his cuts and all he could think about was how beautiful you were. with the prettiest face he’d ever seen and lips too soft too pillowy and tempting for the harsh season you were in.

one of the woodbury survivors, you’d come to the group as nothing more than a shaken young grad student. the governor returning to storm your new home changed that. terminus had changed that. the road had changed that. with every experience you grew closer to the group and closer to rick, although you were both too skittish to address the ways you looked at each other with your basic survivor being such a priority.

you were welcome in his house however, once your group started assimilating amongst the alexandrians. opting to take a second floor bedroom next to judith’s, you fell into a steady routine of playing house with the grimes family. the newfound responsibilities of alexandria didn’t allow you to be judith’s full time caretaker but you still spent most days with the little girl and carl.

alone time with rick was hard to come by; “new constable duties and all,” he’d gruffed when you asked why you’d seen so little of him.

it wasn’t a satisfying answer but rick was wrapped up in alexandria and his new role. and jessie, you add mentally as you trudge up the stairs and to your en-suite to shower.

you hadn’t heard him when he shut the bedroom door - that you hadn’t bothered to close - and linger in the open bathroom doorway.

the hiss that comes out of him when you squirt a handful of body wash onto your palm and cup your breasts is hard to miss though.

at first you think it’s just the shower. the thought doesn’t cross your mind again as you begin scrubbing your torso with your loofah until another fervent breath echoes louder than the shower.

once you realize what’s going on, you refrain from stilling; not wanting to scare rick off.

the loofah runs lower, legs and knees being grazed by the tactile clump of textiles. you take your time bending over and really getting your calves, ankles, and the bottoms of your feet throughly cleaned.

your vantage point doesn’t extend behind you but you can see it all the same: rick, hot and bothered from your glistening body just feet away from him - a hand suddenly freeing his cock and taking the time to allow himself some manual relief.

rick is not the type to snoop on you in the shower but you roll your neck, easing out the cracks and thrusting your soapy bust forward all the same. you would’ve said something by now if you took any serious issue with rick sharing the room with you. your greatest issue is the wanton need bubbling between your pillowy thighs.

how to communicate with him? you mull, warm droplets falling onto your smooth skin from above. maybe being direct is the most honest thing you can do.

“rick, there’s room in here for two, you know.”

the sound of the shower head grows louder in rick’s silence.

you frown. having complex feelings is one thing, ignoring you is another.

thighs clenching at the thought of the tense election in his hand, you offer, “i can help you with that.”

another hiss hints to you that your words are landing. with a coy smile, you’re trying to coax him in another. whispers and wants of languidly bathing together amongst other things slip from your mouth in your ploy to get the man behind this glass door with you.

“come in with me, rick.”

rick’s eyes widen when you slide the shower door open and you think he’s considering heading for the hills until his eyes meet yours. his pupils are way to dilated to have the self control to run out of your bedroom.

he has even less of a capacity to fight when you begin tugging down the rest of his pants and underwear.

with a scolding of your name, he attempts to keep you from unbuttoning his shirt but with the way you’re pawing at him, he struggles to stay strong.

“honey, you don’t have to. i don’t know if that’s-,”

“-it’s fine, don’t worry. just get in here.” you emphasize your point with a wide smile and a pull of rick’s arm and before he knows it, he’s standing under the steam with you.

soft skin against his taut muscles, rick is the one melting into your embrace despite the slick between your thighs. he grounds himself with a hand against your tit.

“i’m really glad you came in here.” you remark into his doused chest. your embrace deepens until you feel rick between your legs and can’t help but grind down onto his rock hardness.

“let me wash your back, rick.”

it’s not what he expected to hear after you crushed his cock against your soft exterior but he’ll take it.

turning around, rick hears you pop the cap off of one of your cucumber smelling body washes and starts with his shoulders. the man grunts from the delicate massage up and down his back.

“i’m really happy you’re with me right now, rick.” you iterate again, hoping to drive the point home.

the constable’s head lifts slightly. “you like me?”

“i do, rick.” you answer without a breath. your hands trail lower as you lather the skin just above his ass. “i like you a lot. i like living here with you.”

his muscles tighten and relax beneath you, responding to your words and the motion of your nimble fingers. his stress filled backside needed nothing more than for you to continue this massage with him on his stomach on the bed. months on months of responsibility, peril, and his role as a leader had manifested the knots in his back.

another hour of this treatment would probably have rick feeling better than he had in a long time but he starts to get an idea of something he wants even more.

rick rotates to face you, catching your wrists in his palms and your gaze all in the same pivot.

“do you want me to fuck you, darlin’?”

you could swoon right then and there. you always ached when he called you darlin’. now he can take care of the throbbing he always caused when he addressed you like that.

“of course,” you exhale and nod eagerly.

the kiss that rick is stamping on your wet lips has you hooking a leg around the back of his thigh and falling into his embrace.

this is the moment when you appreciate having the handicap accessible bathroom.

because after a few minutes of sucking marks that you know are going to incur questions, rick takes a break from attacking your lips, tits, and collarbone to bend you over the white, rubbery soft waterproof bench installed in your en-suite. you brace yourself against the surface as you feel rick behind you, gathering up your slick. the tip of his much larger than you’d expected cock teases your already sloppy wet hole.

“mhm,” you’re crying when he brushes against you again.

“damn, you’re wet, darlin’,.”

“why do you think, rick?”

you don’t mean to be snappy but you want him inside of you. waiting at the door is only working you up even more.

he chuckles lightly. a finger touches your sensitive folds from behind; the gasp he elicits from you has him pressing his cock right along your tight little hole.

the whine that you let ring through the shower is the last straw before rick plunges into you.

every inch is a battle - a battle you’re pleased to lose. it’s like waterloo, or whatever reason abba loved it so much. rick felt like too much to take at first. in all reality, your thick arousal ushers him in flawlessly. each thrust coats him in your cunt’s permission to keep going - keep pushing through each layer of fleshy, heavenly, spongy muscle. the road to bottoming out inside of you has never been more clear.

with the confidence to drive balls deep comes your needy cunt contracting against rick. a temporary finger against your clit only exacerbates the death grip you’ve established.

“good fucking girl, so tight,” rick relays to you through gritted teeth. “you take me so well, baby.”

bent over the bench, you’re thanking god that you’re in the shower and not somewhere where anyone can you hear or rick. no one needs to hear the way you’re murmuring like an overjoyed, sex-hazed idiot and getting fucked so dumb up and down on him.

the dim lighting provided from the bathroom adds to the sensational pleasures you’re being treated to right now. now adjusted to his cock, the girth of rick is something that has you stupid and out of breath. the risk you took calling out rick was well worth it. getting fucked like this in your shower is exactly what you’d hoped for - and maybe rick ending up in your bed when this is all over.

“c’mon, i know we’re both close. come all over me nice and tight like i know you want to, baby.” the man encourages.

“wanna feel you come too, rick,” you’re rasping between twisting your hips to meet his from behind with the pliable plush of your ass.

“anything you want, darlin,” he promises with a kiss against your neck.

hot and searing like sparklers, waves of pulsing pleasure threaten to spill over. your core flutters around rick and he chokes back a hoarse moan. the indentation of his fingers in your hips only sinks deeper. that dull pain guides you with the bludgeoning pace of rick in your already revved up and desperate cunt.

splashing over you like the hot water above you, your orgasm has you jerking your hips even worse than rick when he comes inside of you not thirty seconds later.

when you feel up to it, you’re on your feet and drawing rick in by the back of the head for a kiss from you on your tippy toes. the tongue in your mouth and the firm hand on your waist is enough for you to get a little lost in it all.

you’re pulled from the steamy haze when you realize you two have shifted. the stickiness dissipating with the hot water is your indication and your head lowers to see rick’s come cascading down the duct. the mixture of your fluids is washed down your thighs and down the drain.

rick tilts your head up to interrupt your view of the floor beneath you two, cueing you into another lengthy kiss. he takes the opportunity to run his hands up as down the length of your body, not neglecting to cup your ass.

an arch is reprising in you when the body wash makes another appearance. rick’s rubbing around your thighs, being thorough enough that you drag him out of the shower with you. opting for the two of you to share a towel, it’s not long before you’re heading for your bedroom.

with wet hair and soapy feet you two are crashing onto your bed.

the bedspread is damp already but you could care less. your bodies meeting skin to skin is dinging your pleasure receptors enough. all of rick flush against you while he marks your neck with even more hot, plum colored blemishes and juts his hips into you.

“mhmm,” you moan, rotating your hips back. “rick,” you’re whimpering for him at this point.

“wanna taste this freshly washed pussy,” rick utters against your chest, kissing his way down the valley of your breasts and just above your belly button.

he licks a pattern from there down to your slicked back mound. the tongue that parts your folds for you, gallantly dips inside of you. you’re worried that your reactive bottom will be crushing rick rudely in no time but his dexterous hands brace themselves against your thighs without fault. the accompanying circles and rhythmic patterns he’s etching with the pads of his fingers into your skin have you writing beneath his thick tongue.

roving across your slit as if on a mission, rick takes advantage of your sensitivity that had been see-sawing since the shower. you welcome the crescent shaped marks he’s littering on the paper sensitive skin of your inner thighs. why would you be upset? he’s setting you up to come your way into a state of bliss and sleep like a baby.

“rick, you’re so good at this,” you bellow softly, bleary eyed from the pressure he’s managing with just his tongue.

he doesn’t respond; the tongue toying with your relaxed hole just juts against the muscle. you almost leap up the bed when the tip of his pink tongue trespasses the first inch of your velvety insides.

“rick!” you exclaim.

pupil blown eyes rolling back, you’re clutching at the bedspread to stay on this planet. nerve endings flicker and burst into flame with the weight of rick’s tongue lapping them with no end in sight.

“fuck, i’m gonna come in your mouth, rick.” you confess breathily.

hands find his chestnut waves and they help you cope with the vortex licking and laving every single sweet moan and whimper from you.

you’re worried you’ll come right then and there again when you feel a deft finger that’s opening you up even more. it’s like the room is spinning. this new addition has you scrunching your eyes shut from the double overwhelm of this clearly skilled man’s finger and tongue.

“oh, rick!”

your lust-filled outbursts pair appropriately with the seriousness rick is committing to your cunt. a finger inside of you, a tongue bullying you, and another finger tormenting your clit has you begging and bucking your hips.

“mhmm, rick, shit.” you curse. “god!”

beneath you, the tongue and the two fingers intent on ruining you enter over time in an attempt to overload you. the pace and the pressure bundled up together are enough to have tears rolling down your cheeks.

a crack breaks inside of you when a particularly excruciatingly twist of rick’s fingers tantalizes the spot with the invisible “x.”

“rick!”

heat is rushing to your face when he curls his fingers inside of you. the full lips on your clit only have your knees floundering. that heat isn’t just in your face but brimming in your core. rick does nothing to assuage it - just builds on the heightening ardor around his fingers. fumbling through your words, you flex around his fingers and his tongue is the first to taste the flood as your head clearing, thought averting release grants you a blissful blank slate of a state.

looking down at you, the man savors the glow your climax had brought to your already ethereal face. parted lips and still twitching thighs told him that he’d thoroughly made inviting you in the shower with him worth your while.

fucked out and grinning, rick can’t help but match your disposition when you roll onto your elbows and utter;

“so, are you sleeping over?”

[heelluring]

— his regrets... • l.hs

wherein the sinner was once again hit by guilt but he guessed, it hurts the most when it hit the second time around [ part 1 ]

author's note ~ ! hi! so, i decided to write this since there are a lot of requests. i dont know if i ever gave the story any justice, i just hope i was able to deliver what i want to write. anyways, here you go. happy reading!

Heeseung stands outside the restaurant that both of you frequently visits. in the past, he'll drive to the restaurant while u're the one entertaining him through the passenger's seat. he'll call u pretty and will watch as a soft blush stain ur cheeks together with a subtle hit on his arms in attempt to hide your shyness. Both of you were happy that time, heeseung was happy, you were happy— when did everything go wrong?

oh, right. he cheated. he did the very same thing he promised he wouldn't do when you said yes to him. cheating with her older sister at that. what is he thinking, right? Heeseung also, didn't know.

And as much as he regret it, it wouldn't change a thing. He'll never feel your presence in his arms, again or feel how your lips fit so well in his.

It's been years since he saw even your shadows but you're still the one haunting his mind. After getting caught with his affair, he immediately ran after you but was failed. Came running to your apartment, but no one was there. Your landlord assured him though, he was told that your things are still in the apartment and that made him hope, maybe this will be a passing tumbles? Maybe he can still fix this?

He was definitely wrong. It was all but a delusion. You never came even if he waited for almost a week in that apartment just leaving whenever he had to go to work. But, you successfully avoided him. The next time he came, your apartment was wide open, your things were gone including you, and workers from the complex are now starting to clean the unit for the new potential buyers.

You successfully vanished through his life, didn't even get him a chance to see you before completely walking out of his life. The same time you left, so is heeseung's life started to crumble. He was called by the HR department one day, saying he's just there to talk. Though the way they have every evidence of his infidelity and disgusting rendezvous with Rina told him otherwise. That's just like a punch for him. Your crying and pained face draws on his mind, he can't think about anything but how hurt you were the day you found out. He was a jerk, a sinful man that doesn't deserve any forgiveness. If all, it just made another salt that was rubbed on his wounds. He was so stupid. How could he do that?

After all the things you did for him, this is what he decided to give back and thus, karma's out for him. Things happened so fast that when he came into realization, the company already sent a letter making him choose if they'll forcefully fire him or he'll just voluntarily resign. It doesn't matter anyways. His business was all the employees could talk about for the past few weeks, even if he gets fired or resigned, doesn't matter because people knew what he did and that goes the same with Rina. With no stable income, life was hard. Heeseung had a hard time applying in a new position. No one's accepting him, in the end, he became content with jobs that had nothing to do with his past career. Being a janitor or a delivery guy, he did everything and anything just to survive.

"Heeseung? what are you doing there? There's a lot of people since dinner already started, we need you at the back" Even being a waiter in your favorite restaurant was one of the things he did just to put food in his mouth. But he knew it wasn't just because of that. Heeseung wanted to be able to hold at least one small fragment of your memory that was still enclosed in this restaurant. Because, every time he sees that one special corner, he was able to be happy at least for a short period of time.

"Serve the new guests, it's on table 15" Heeseung nodded at that taking the menus on his arm before walking towards the table. It was a couple, the man was the only one he could see while the woman's back was facing him. A certain feeling took over his system. The woman looks familiar but that's impossible. Heeseung shook his head and his doubt, before putting on a smile.

"Good evening, and welcome to Chaconne. My name is Evan, and I would be your server for the night. Here's our—" His tongue was cut off when the woman looked at him. It was you, it was really you. Heeseung wanted to cry, to just get on his knees and say all the things he couldn't get to say all these years. But, who is he fooling? He knew that what he really wanted to do was to hide in shame and guilt. He always wanted to appear in front of you as a successful and strong person but instead, you saw this side of him. The one who's currently paying his dues with karma. You didn't say anything, just looking at him with sadness in eyes. He can't read that sadness as something different though. He knew that it was accompanied with pity, pity with someone you're just acquainted with.

"Sir? Are you alright?" The guy you're with asked. "Ah.. ah— yes. Yes, I am. I'm sorry for that, Sir. So here's our menu..." It was smooth, he was able to calm down. He needs to be professional, he can't afford losing this job and he also can't afford to make you uncomfortable. After a while, the guy who he knew called Jay called him again to take the orders. It was an understatement when we say heeseung can't take his eyes off of you that whole night. You look beautiful as ever, the only difference is that you look happier. Jay said something to you, and that made your eyes widen in bliss before giggling, hitting him softly with your hands. As a man, heeseung knew how Jay loves you. The way he looks at you, how he softly caresses your hand on his, drawing small shapes on its surface in process, how he smiles just to you was all he needed to know. Besides, it's the same look he's given to you. You look so happy, you might as well be glowing when you're with him. Heeseung on the other hand, can't do anything but be happy for you. You now feel at peace and secured, it's a long way from how miserable you have been with him and heeseung can't help but thank the one above for that. Even when you two finally finished your dinner, leaving gracefully with your chivarious man supporting you, heeseung can't help but to follow you with his eyes.

Oh how he wished, he was that man. Heeseung was not a saint. Of course, on top of being happy for you, he also felt bitterness creeping up his system. But it's all in vain.

"Hey, heeseung." One of his co-workers called when it was closing time handing him a dark blue colored envelope. "Remember the couple you served earlier? The woman told me to give this to you." His eyes widened, taking the envelope before saying his goodbyes to the other workers. He was in the park when he decided to open it. A can of beer, and a cup of ramen placed hastily on his side as he took the envelope out. It was elegant and sealed, he flipped it twice before carefully ripping through it when he made sure there were no written words outside.

Hey, heeseung. It's been awhile, years even. I know things didn't end well between us. I don't know if you're angry at me for the things I also did just to get back at you, and I won't blame you if you are. It doesn't matter though, I will still say sorry for those things. I was driven by my anger and pain, and because of that you lose your means to support yourself. I'm sorry Heeseung... for everything. For me, those moments were nothing but a memory, just a painful part of my past. I was able to move on and I hope that goes the same with you. You don't need to suffer, give yourself a chance again. Forgive yourself.

It's nice to see you again, Heeseung. You might not believe this but I hope you'll be happy, I am hoping for your best.

Heeseung didn't know he was crying until a tear stains the paper, the next thing he knew, his vision was blurry. "You were still saying sorry to me even though we knew I deserved it? Even wishing me happiness when I'm the one who took that away from you in the past. Y/n... how can you be so cruel?" His thumb brush on your signed name, as he whispers those words. How come, after all these years, you're still the one who can make himself feel understood. His whole system was numb, can't feel anything aside from pain. Is this the kind of pain you felt that night? Heeseung's happiness was with you but now, yours was nowhere with him. He feels relieved, yet there's a bittersweet feeling because this just means that he has to let you go, that this will be the last night he'll have a touch on your memories.

"Thank you... thank you so much... and i love you..."

heelluring, 2024

likes, reblogs, and comments are deeply appreciated ❤️

[livelovelizz]

now i'm no longer alone

jason todd x reader / fluff

tw: mentions of blood and a knife

“What the fuck.”

You try to swallow the lump that’s appeared in your throat. You know you must look stupid with your open-mouth stare, but you couldn’t help it. Really…

“What the fuck,” you repeat, scanning the figure in front of you. In the dingy hallway of your apartment complex, stands an out of place person. Red helmet scratched up, black tactical suit torn, and the most startling of all, the amount of blood pouring out from behind a hand.

“Hey, I don’t mean to rush this… but do you mind like—” the figure jerks his head and all you can do float aside to allow him to hobble through. You bite your lip and peek into the hallway. All that stares back at you is flickering LED lights and dingy wallpaper.

Letting out a shaky breath, you stare at the blood spots left on the floor as the door closes, latching it as quietly as possible. You turn the lock.

The injured vigilante you let in has made their way to your couch, draping themselves across it with legs falling off the sides. It’s silent, air tense, waiting for the other shoe to drop. You open your mouth, ready to start complaining when glistening liquid catches you eye. Clicking your tongue, you go to retrieve the first aid kit from the bathroom.

Flipping on the switch, you squint to adjust to the sudden brightness. You stare at yourself in the mirror. Mussed up hair from sleep, wrinkled pajamas, and a deep frown. You take in a deep breath to collect yourself. Right. Now’s not the time to be distracted by anything other than the problem bleeding out on your couch.

You rummage in the cabinet underneath the sink for a couple minutes, noises too loud for whatever fucking time it is. Behind a stack of toilet paper is where the med-kit is hiding, so it's quickly snatched up and you hurry back to the living room. The idiot is still in the same position, sans the red helmet, which has been tossed aside on the floor.

You shake your head and sigh. “You actually have to take off your suit for me to do anything.”

Blue-greenish eyes swipe to look over at you. They look distinctly glassy and out of focus. Concussion?

“You tryin’ to get me in bed already? At least take me to dinner first,” the mighty Red Hood responds, trying to smile but winces and carefully remains still. You bite your lip.

“Think you can move, or am I gonna have to cut the suit?” you ask, settling on the small sliver of couch left for you, pressing against his thighs. Opening the med-kit, everything gets set out in preparation.

There’s a groan and instantly you zone in on Jason’s face, twisted in pain.

“Just take it off. Trying to replace this shit is too annoying,” he grunts, slowly sitting up. You watch him closely, taking in every small twitch and tense muscles. Gently, hands are placed around his waist, slowly peeling back the top half of his suit. Jason’s been through this a lot. Too much, you think sourly. He forcibly relaxes and doesn’t move when his shirt finally pulls away from his wound. It takes several minutes, going slow and checking over everything, before his top is finally off of him and tossed on the floor somewhere.

His chest is littered with bruises and small scratches, but none of it compares to the gaping knife wound spanning from his ribs to waist. You’re not going to lie, the amount of blood along with how deep the wound is disgusting—you don’t want to know what muscle you’re seeing behind his peeled back skin—but you hold your breath.

Neither of you say anything. You’re focused on cleaning, disinfecting, and wincing as you feel and hear loose skin squish against the needle held in bloody hands. You only fully relax when everything is safely bandaged behind white gauze. Eyes dart up to Jason’s face, becoming slightly startled and embarrassed when you find him already looking at you. Maintaining eye-contact, you reach a hand up to his face, gently brushing over his cheek.

“Anything else I need to know?” you ask quietly, afraid to break whatever comfortable silence the two of you have. Jason takes in a deep breath and shakes his head, leaning into your hand. You don’t want to disturb him. He finally looks somewhat peaceful and not in too much pain after the many pills you shoved at him to take. “I’m going to get a washcloth and some clothes, okay? Don’t move.”

Jason flinches and wide eyes meet yours. “I was, uh, I wasn’t planning on staying,” he says, obviously confused. You stare into his eyes. He only stares back.

You quirk an eyebrow. “Do you honestly think I’m letting you leave this apartment in this state?”

“I’ve had worse, nothin’ to worry about your pretty head about, doll,” he grunts. He’s in the process of sitting up, but doesn’t get too far before a hand is pushing him back down.

“That doesn’t exactly make me feel better,” you dryly respond, “Now, you’re going to sit here and wait for me to come back, okay?”

There must be something showing in your expression because Jason takes a moment before relenting with a sigh. “Hurry it up then, I’m tired and want to sleep.”

You scoff. Honestly, the audacity of this man is astounding. You quickly gather clean clothes for him, random stuff he’s left here from past visits. Armed with a bowl of water and a washcloth, you’re ready to tackle the problem of wiping him down. By the time you make it back to the couch, Jason’s already discarded his pants and shoes. He smiles widely as soon as he sees you, wiggling his eyebrows. The washcloth you were holding is now hitting him in the face.

“Wha—Hey!” Jason pouts, “What was that for?”

The bowl of water is set down on the table, a little splashing over the sides. You look up to him. “You woke me up at an ungodly hour, bleeding out, made me fix you, and then expected me to wipe you down myself? Are you kidding me, Jason?”

You’re actually a little upset. It’s not that you haven’t seen him covered in blood before, but usually it’s not his blood he’s covered in. You knew what you were signing up for when you got together, but it doesn’t make it any less terrifying. A warmth wraps around your clenched fist and squeezes. You focus back into the present.

Jason’s looking at you with furrowed brows and a frown. You look down at your hands before you’re suddenly exhausted. Stumbling, you sit down next to Jason and deflate into his side.

“I–I’m sorry. Just…” you close your eyes and take a moment to collect yourself. “It’s just scary. Seeing you like that.”

Your chin is gently clasped and turned to look over to your lover sitting next to you. A thumb brushes against your cheek. “No, doll, I’m sorry. I know it’s a lot to ask of you,” Jason whispers, regret filling every word.

Shaking your head, you cover his hand with yours to keep him from pulling away. “Don’t. I would rather you come to me like this than I not knowing, with you in some dirty alley or safe house,” you reply and press a gentle kiss to his palm. “I just don’t like seeing you hurt.”

The exhaustion has finally caught up to you, dragging you down. You didn't really want to leave him alone, but a large yawn seizes you. Giving him another once, you deem it okay to leave him by himself.

“I’m gonna go to bed. Join me when you're clean,” you lean forwards and press a gentle kiss to his lips before silently making your way back into the bedroom. Too much has happened too early in the morning. Collapsing onto the bed, you take in a deep breath. You won’t go to bed without him, but your eyelids are heavy and begging for you to close them, so you do.

The next thing you know, the bed is dipping next to you while the blankets slowly cover you up. Not opening your eyes at all, you blindly reach out your left hand and wave it in the air until it makes purchase on something. A hand catches yours. Even with your eyes closed, you can basically feel the guilt he has for worrying you rolling off in waves. Gripping his hand tightly, you drag him down and press your body to his, keeping him in place. You're not chancing him leaving as soon as you fall asleep.

Your head rests on his chest, the gentle thump of his heart and rhythmic breathing is quickly lulling you back to sleep. In your last moments of consciousness, you feel his arm wrap around your back and a pressure on the crown of your head.

“G’night, doll,” he whispers. With him safely wrapped around you in the comfort of your home together, sleep is quick to find you.

fin.

[merakiui]

[01] 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒹𝒾𝓇𝑒𝒷𝑒𝒶𝓈𝓉, 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓇𝒶𝓋𝑒𝓃, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝒶𝑔𝒾𝒸𝒶𝓁 𝑔𝒾𝓇𝓁.

villain!azul ashengrotto x magical girl!reader note - welcome to this very impulsive magical girl parody! i'm not sure how many chapters it will be exactly, but i'm looking forward to writing more. i hope you'll enjoy reading! chapter navigation: [01] (you are here) // [02]

Magic is a messy, complex thing.

It can enchant and amaze with beautiful, endless possibilities. It can terrify with traumatic results. Like any sort of power in this world, it is a heavy responsibility for those who wield it. Everything has its dark side; you’re sure the same holds true for magic. No matter how marvelous it may be, surely there exists some shadow.

It’s also something you can’t use, and so the good and the bad don’t really apply to you!

Not that this is cause for envy. Rather, you’re relieved you don’t have to worry about experiencing the problems that accompany magic. You’ve got enough on your plate as it is; magic would only further complicate it. With no other plausible way to return to your world, you’ve had to make your home here on Sage’s Island. It’s an isolated place, boasting two elite magical universities and a bustling town.

It also happens to resemble a chicken wing on maps, so that’s a plus. Truly an ideal getaway! If only you weren’t trapped here indefinitely… Maybe then you’d have better appreciation for it.

As it happens, you’re a janitor living in the abandoned, decrepit dorm on the outskirts of campus. It took a month since you moved in, but you’ve managed to clean it up into a habitable space with the help of its resident haunts. The Headmage hasn’t been very helpful or present since your arrival, and so you’ve had to make do with what little you’ve been given. But for all of his troubling qualities, he isn’t inherently cruel. He’s kind enough to pay you for your services (but then that was only after you threatened him into an agreement), and he doesn’t overwork you (again, this is because you made it abundantly clear you won’t do anything if it violates your own sanity in some way, shape, or form). At least he’s willing to negotiate every time you argue for humane working conditions.

He’s an irksome guy. You can’t believe he has the gall to call himself the ‘embodiment of magnanimity’ when he’s done the bare minimum. Even the ghosts have offered more assistance and they don’t have any sort of authority here! You’re pleased to share a space with them. Sometimes they seem more reliable than the Headmage.

Despite your attempts to acclimate, the illustrious Night Raven College is still a place wholly unsuitable for a magicless human such as yourself. You’re the same age as some of the students here, but they feel like they’re on another level. Flying overhead on brooms, casting spells, mixing up potions… You listen in on some of their conversations while washing windows or sweeping the floors and wonder if all magic schools are this rigorous.

Maybe that’s any school regardless of its curriculum. Any sort of academic pursuit comes with difficulties; that’s normal. But magic is a facet unique to this world. There aren’t any arcane academies where you’re from, but now you wish there were. They seem so fascinating.

“Not much of my problem, though, is it?” you mumble, shaking free of that thought. Being a janitor is great. You can avoid the stress of school and keep up with the gossip exchanged in the halls. It’s like reading the newspaper, only it’s spoken instead of written.

Morning spills through the part in the curtains when you open them. You shut your eyes and bask in the warming glow of a sunshine smooch. It’s going to be another great day—you’re sure of this—and a day as pleasant as this deserves to be lived in its entirety. Perhaps you’ll have a picnic outside or you could even—

BAM.

Your eyes snap open just in time to view the raven who’s slammed itself against the window. Disoriented, it jerks itself up and away from the glass, flapping its wings wildly. You watch its attempts with a pitying frown. And then, inching closer to pull the window open to allow the raven respite, you see it: the blue flames racing towards you at a rapid speed.

With a yelp, you dive out of the way just in time. Due to the forceful blast, the window shatters in a spray of glass. Heat licks at your face, so hot it almost singes your brows, and you stumble to the other side of the room in a panicked daze.

“You lousy bird!” someone exclaims, the words pronounced in a growl. “Get back here so I can nab ya and prove that I’m worthy of bein’ at this school!”

The raven squawks, fluttering wildly about your room. A sleek, obsidian-colored feather floats into your hand. You don’t have time to admire it, for the curtains have just caught fire.

“Come on—I just put those up last week!” you bemoan, looking on in abject horror.

From the opening, a furry creature bursts through. He resembles a grey cat with his short, fluffy stature, but his tail is shaped strangely and there’s blue fire flickering from his ears. The same blue fire he’s currently conjuring in an attempt to catch the raven…

You grab hold of the coat rack—the nearest viable weapon you can think of—and jump in front of him. He startles and leaps back when you swing.

“What’re you doing?! You can’t do that in here! Fuck—my curtains! Don’t light anything else on fire!”

Baffled, the cat-creature scoffs at you. “How was I supposed to know someone’s livin’ in here? Not my fault!”

“It’s a residence! Of course someone lives here! I live here!”

“When they make me the Great Mage Grim, I’ll fix this place up for ya. That’s a promise! I just gotta catch that bird and prove myself a worthy candidate. Just you wait—they’ll be puttin’ my name up in lights!”

“Like hell they will!”

With a devastated groan, you whack the curtains down with the coat rack. They land in a heap, smoke curling from beneath the pile and sliding out the shattered window in dark, wispy tendrils. It takes a frazzled few stomps and smacks before the fire fizzles away, leaving you with charred curtains and the distinct stench of something scorched.

Still panting from the adrenaline rush, you loosen your grip on the coat rack. This is a mess. What am I going to do? I don’t have enough money to fix this!

You turn your hateful scowl on the cat-creature. “You!”

“W-Wait! Wait!” He raises a paw to his lips and gestures towards your bedside table. The raven sits perched, a golden chain wrapped around its neck and an envelope clasped in its beak. In all of the chaos, you must have missed that. “Don’t say a word. It’s right there.”

He approaches stealthily, slow as a sloth, and pounces. He misses narrowly, ending up with a mouthful of feathers instead. The raven caws and takes flight, circling overhead.

He spits feathers. “Myahaha! I got it! I actually—oh. Dumb bird… No one can escape the Great Grim.”

The raven lands on your shoulder next. It cocks its head at you.

“What? Is this for me?” you ask, even though you’re certain of the answer. You pluck the envelope from the raven, who sets to preening itself now that it’s no longer occupied.

“Give it here!” The cat-creature hops up onto your bed, reaching with an expectant paw. “That bird’s got my admission letter!”

“Your letter?” You hold it out of reach and stick your tongue out at him. “No ‘great mage’ sets someone’s home on fire. You’re a subpar mage, if anything.”

“I am not! You just wait—I’ll show you!”

“I don’t want to see anymore.” Turning away, you break the wax seal and procure the parchment waiting within.

He swipes at you impatiently. “Lemme see! What’s it say?”

Written in elegant script, complete with a stamp you’ve never seen before, it looks very official. Whoever wrote it is exceptionally good at cursive, their letters swooping together seamlessly. It’s almost like a decorative artwork with its double-looped O’s and dancing cursive. You marvel at the craftsmanship, wishing your handwriting could look as refined as this person’s.

To whom it may concern,  Greetings and congratulations on your admittance into the program! We recognize your outstanding achievements as a model student and believe you have what it takes to do wonderful things. It is with great pride that we bestow upon you a piece of magical history, referred to as The Tried-and-True Trident. You will find it enclosed in this letter.

You look up from the letter just as an aureate necklace lands in your palm. The raven blinks at you once before lifting itself off of your shoulder with a flap of its inky wings. It departs through the window, up into the cloudless, cerulean sky, in a flurry of feathers. There’s a tiny trident pendant hanging from the chain. It winks at you in the light, so shiny you think you might catch your reflection if you stare long enough. You’re not sure what part of it is tried or true, for it looks more like costume jewelry than anything. At least it’s cute. Kind of fashionable, even.

With this historic piece, you are now free to wield the wonders of the sea as you please. You are expected to use these powers to defend those you hold dear from the threat of tragedy. You should have met with your mentor already. If not, we shall send someone to escort you. We look forward to beholding your excellent heroics. Sincerely,

“Gimme that!”

Grim snatches the letter before you can glimpse the name signed at the bottom. The enchanted letter tears in two and then, before both of your eyes, it promptly disintegrates.

You eye the fuzzball with a fresh bout of vitriol. “What did you say your name was again?”

“It’s Grim—the Great Grim—and I promise ya as soon as I—”

“Good. Now I know what name to carve on your tombstone when I put you in the ground for ruining my letter!” You reach for the coat rack, expression ablaze with newfound ferocity.

Grim yelps and scurries away. “H-Hold on! I can fix it!”

“How? It’s ash!”

“Well, what did it say? I’m sure I can explain it to ya!”

“It said something about this necklace. The something-something trident. Protecting loved ones from tragedy. Admittance into some program. A mentor…”

“Mentor… Mentor! Yeah, that sounds about right!” Grim laughs proudly. “Aren’t you in luck, human! I’m gonna be your mentor.”

“Sure you are.” You rest your hand on your hip, brows raised. “The same cat who destroyed my window and curtains is gonna mentor me in whatever this is. Funny story.”

His jaw drops. “A-At least pretend like it’s cool! And I’m not a cat!” He hops off of your bed with a huff. “Ungrateful human. You’re undeserving of the Great Grim’s teaching anyways! I don’t need you!”

“Other way around.”

“You don’t need me!”

“There we go.” You applaud him sardonically. “Look, I don’t know what any of this is. I’m sure it was a mistake. I’m not even a student here.”

Grim, who had been on his way towards the door, halts. He turns to face you slowly. “Yer…not a student?”

“I work here. There’s no way for me to be enrolled here because I can’t use magic.”

“W-Wha—can’t use magic?! Then why did you get in, but I didn’t?!”

You can only shrug. The necklace twists idly when you hold it up for closer inspection. “So this thing is supposed to help me? Hey, Grim, do you know what this is?”

You lower to his height and hold your hand out. He watches you dubiously before approaching and leaning in to sniff at the chain.

“Smells fine to me. Kinda like wet metal.”

“I didn’t ask for a flavor profile.” You heave a tired sigh. The day’s only just begun and you’re already swamped with nonsense. “Maybe that Headmage knows something.”

Grim gasps. “You’re chummy with the Headmage? You think you could talk him into lettin’ me join?”

“Why do you even want in so badly?”

“Isn’t it obvious? I’m a renowned mage! They should be begging me to join!”

Anyone could’ve sent that letter. It might not even be from the Headmage… If I knew the sender’s name, I could just track them down and ask them. 

“You said you wanted to prove yourself, didn’t you?” You offer your hand again, this time to shake on it. “Become my mentor. That’ll show that Crowley you’re plenty capable. Then you can get into this school and I can find a way to return this necklace to its rightful owner.”

Grim folds his arms over his chest, avoiding your hand like it’s the plague. “And what’s in it for me? My services aren’t cheap, y’know!”

“You can live here with me. I’ll find ways to sneak you into the lecture halls if you wanna sit in and observe the class.”

“How about food?”

“Food is…” Nonexistent, really. That cheapskate Crowley! I’ve got to talk him into raising my pay. “I get paid at the end of this week. We’ll have to survive off of what’s in the fridge and the lunch I’m allowed to get from the cafeteria for now.”

Grim’s features soften. “Hm… I guess it’s not terrible. Could be better. But all great mages start from humble beginnings—including myself, but you’d never be able to guess!”

“Right…”

With how carelessly you tossed that fire around, you’re the last mage I should be partnering with.

“Do we have a deal, Grim? You’ll be my mentor and I’ll help you wherever I can.”

Grim places his paw in your palm, his chest puffed out. “You’d better start callin’ me Teacher!”

A smile strains on your lips. “Not happening.”

With a firm shake, your pact is made.

“So what spells do you know? Any that might be able to fix up a window and some curtains?”

“You don’t need those lame spells! The Great Grim can do plenty of other amazing feats.”

“Like?”

“Very amazing feats. Didn’t you hear me?”

“You don’t know anything, do you?”

Grim flinches, guilt flashing across his countenance.

“Is blue fire all you can summon?”

“I… I can do much more! This is just a fraction of my true power! If I had a magestone, this whole spell business would be a lot easier.”

“A magestone? Ah, those things the students have on their pens? I guess that would be helpful. Where can we get one, though?”

“I’d tell ya if I knew.”

“The library might know. If we head there now, we can spend the rest of the morning researching and then we can get lunch.” You reach to fasten the chain around your neck. It’s tucked under your shirt next, safe and sound. “Wait outside for a minute. I’ll change out of my pajamas, clean up the window, and then we’ll be on our way.”

Grim trots out the door without resistance. “I’ll grab a snack from the fridge while yer doin’ all that stuff.”

“One snack! Don’t eat everything!”

But he’s already bounding away, singing as he goes: “Free eats can’t be beat!” Sighing, you shut the door and turn to assess the state of your bedroom. It could be worse. Your bed could have been damaged, or you could have sustained quite the nasty burn.

One mess at a time.

You change into your uniform, which is really just a PE jumpsuit. The same one the students wear. This one has seen better days and it’s a size too big on you, but it’s all Crowley claimed to have on hand when you asked about work clothes. Once again, you soothe yourself with your favorite adage: It could be worse.

You could be homeless. You could be starving. You could be dead.

So it’s not so bad to wear the spare. It’s still got the dorm patch and class numbers sewn onto it, albeit both have worn considerably. Your eyes are drawn to them as you admire yourself in the mirror. Octavinelle Dorm… You’ve heard there are seven dormitories at this school, each based on a historical figure and representing the various spirits of these people. The sorting at the entrance ceremony was something special for the incoming first-years. You’d felt a little awkward to disturb such a grand occasion, even more so when the Dark Mirror announced to a hall full of talented mages that there isn’t an iota of magic in you.

Quite the humbling experience.

But sometimes you wonder which dorm the Dark Mirror would have chosen if your soul was bursting with magical capability.

As of now you’re a faux member of Octavinelle—whatever that implies.

By the time you’ve managed to sweep the glass, dispose of the ruined curtains, and patch the window with a temporary placeholder—what a relief for pasteboard and masking tape—Grim’s nearly through the few items left in your fridge. You yank him away just as he reaches for a container of leftovers.

“If you eat too much, you’ll spoil your lunch.”

“Can’t imagine that problem.”

“You sound so proud of your bottomless stomach.”

“And you’re not?”

You roll your eyes and tug your sneakers on. “Let’s be off.”

“How’re we gonna sneak me in?”

“How do you feel about becoming my temporary purse pet?”

Grim looks unimpressed when you hold your tote bag open for him. “No way!”

“It has lots of space and it’s stylish. Besides, shouldn’t your dedicated student pay proper respect to her great, glorious mentor?”

He doesn’t bother hiding his approving smirk. “Well, when ya put it like that…”

After Grim clambers into your bag, you lock the front door behind you and set off for campus.

“Please don’t blow our cover, Grim.”

From within the depths of your tote, he scoffs. “The Great Grim is the stealthiest mage you’ll ever meet!”

“I highly doubt that.”

It’s the second time you’ve found yourself in the library, but it’s still just as impressive as ever. You could spend hours here, wandering between shelves and skimming all sorts of tomes. Some of them are written in languages you can’t decipher, so you observe the pictures provided in hopes of gleaning any clues. Grim lounges on a chair beside you, absentmindedly turning through a thick textbook. You managed to find a relatively isolated corner in the very back and it’s not especially busy today. The promise of a hearty lunch keeps him well-behaved.

“Find anything?”

“Nothin’ important. Ugh. This stuff is the worst! Why can’t a magestone fall from the sky? That’d be a whole lot easier than this.”

“It sucks, yeah, but what else can we do?” You rest your face against your palm and scan through yet another page of information. “Let’s keep looking. I’m sure we’ll find something useful.”

“Nngh… I’m hungry.”

“You just ate.”

“That was hours ago!”

“Has it really been that long?”

“Feels like it.”

You lean back in your chair and stretch, listening to the satisfying snap of your joints as they crack into place. “Can you understand any of these words?”

“Most of ’em.”

You point to a specific place in the paragraph. “Can you tell me what this one means? I think I’ve got the general idea based on the graphics, but I could be wrong.”

Grim glances at it, his blue hues waltzing across the page. “It’s about merfolk.”

“Merfolk? They exist in this world?” And then you pause to gather your delayed thoughts. “Never mind. That would make sense.”

“What about ’em?”

“Where I’m from, merfolk aren’t real. They’re fiction.”

“Huh. A place without any merfolk… Bet they don’t have anyone like me either. I’m one of a kind!” Grim chuckles. “So where’re you from?”

You open your mouth to respond, but the sound of approaching footsteps interrupts. You usher Grim under the table, who goes but not without protest. He ducks under just in time, hiding within the shadows. A student rounds the corner and stops short when he sees you. He’s holding a few books in his arms, each looking more heavy than the last.

“Ah,” the both of you say in unison.

He clears his throat and offers you a cordial nod. “I wasn’t aware someone had already claimed this corner.”

You eye him carefully. He looks familiar. Glasses. Silvery-grey hair. Blue eyes. Where have you seen him before?

“It’s all yours. I was just leaving.” You move to stand, but he steps closer.

He peers at the open textbook lying in front of you. A smile you can’t quite classify as friendly spreads on his lips. “Is that so? You seem especially engrossed in this book.”

“I like to stay educated.”

I genuinely can’t understand a word in this text.

“On the anatomy of merfolk?”

You shut your mouth at once. That’s what this is? No wonder the diagrams looked…unique. But you’re too committed to your story to falter now.

“Especially the anatomy of merfolk.”

The student chuckles, but it sounds hollow to your ears. “I don’t believe I’ve seen you before. You’re in Octavinelle?”

You gape at him like a fish out of water before realizing the jumpsuit and its patch. “Oh! Ohhh, no, not at all. This is an old uniform.”

He looks at you with more scrutiny until it clicks. “I remember now. You’re the magicless girl who so carelessly interrupted—ah, forgive me—fortuitously appeared during the entrance ceremony last month.”

What a little fake. You narrow your eyes at him, suddenly defensive. Now you’re made aware of who he is. He was one of the few in the audience during your awkward arrival. Back then, he was clad in a robe with his hood up and so you only caught sight of his glasses and the swoop of his silvery-grey hair peeking out. You’re certain this is the same guy. You could’ve said that without the backhanded barb.

“So my reputation precedes me.”

He smiles and shakes his head. “I disagree. You’re still quite the mystery.”

“Well, there’s nothing to solve.” You rise from your seat, reaching for your bag. “I’m just a janitor trying to get by.”

He hums. You can’t decipher the meaning in that, but you don’t particularly care enough to drive yourself mad over it. You feel around on the chair for Grim. He was just here a moment ago…

You drop to your knees to check under the table. Your heart plummets into your stomach.

Grim, you had one job!

“Is something the matter?”

You pop up from beneath the table so fast that your head knocks into it. “Shit! Ow! Yeah, no, I’m fine. I thought I dropped my pencil.”

You scan the rest of the space as discreetly as you can. The student watches you. You don’t like the way he seems to stare through you as if intending to gain access to your very soul. As if he sees something you don’t.

“Have a wonderful day. Study hard. Pass your tests. Get—uh—the scholarship or whatever.” 

Flashing him your most nonchalant grin, you make your way down the aisle at a pace that is the exact opposite of relaxed. There’s no time to dwell on that off-kilter exchange. You’ve got a runaway cat-creature in dire need of capture!

The one day I take off and it’s the day my window’s ruined, I get a weird letter, and my new roommate is missing. That’s horrible luck!

You walk briskly through the library, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth. Grim couldn’t have gotten far. You were only distracted for a few minutes, and the library is huge. Perhaps he’s just lost and waiting in place for you to find him. For some reason you can’t fool yourself into believing this train of thought.

Your search takes you out of the library and down the hall. Where could he have possibly gone? Surely he didn’t make his way back to Ramshackle. You check the time on your watch. It’s almost lunch.

Lunch! Of course!

You hurry towards the cafeteria with rekindled purpose.

I’m going to start calling him Gluttonous Mage Grim if he makes this a habit!

Fortunately, Grim is predictable. You’ve only known him for a day—not even—but it’s not so difficult to pinpoint his location after you’ve worked out his motivations. Unfortunately, you make it to the cafeteria just as the grand chandelier falls from its support in the ceiling, crash-landing in a broken heap. And standing just feet away from the damage, looking very guilty, is Grim alongside two students you’ve never seen before. Crowley’s there as well, just as frazzled as the feathers on his coat. He’s in the middle of lecturing them about the importance of this relic—how it’s been with the school since it was founded and it’s an irreplaceable piece that would cost over a billion Madol to fix—when he takes notice of you.

“(Name), it’s devastating! A most heart-wrenching tragedy! Why, it’s enough to bring one to tears.”

“Seems so…” You shoot Grim a vicious look. So much for being covert. Not so stealthy now, huh? “I’ll get the broom.”

“No, not yet. These three—” he turns towards them, yellow eyes fierce— “are expelled!”

“Expelled?!” the navy-haired student exclaims. He looks like he’s just stared Death in the face. “This can’t be… What will my mother think? I promised her I was gonna get good grades, attend all of my classes, pass my tests…”

“Hey, it’s not my fault. That hairball’s the one who started it!” the other argues, his arms folded over his chest.

“No way! It wasn’t me!”

Crowley clicks his tongue. “Unbelievable. This school has zero tolerance for blatant tomfoolery. Surely you’re all aware…” He pauses to look at Grim. “And you! You’re not even a student here! Just what are you doing, trespassing on school property?”

Grim flounders dizzily. “Spinning…”

“He’s my roommate.” All eyes flick towards you. “I’m letting him stay for now. Sorry if that breaks any rules. I just don’t believe in turning others away, even if they’re prone to causing trouble.”

“What a noble soul,” Crowley murmurs, impressed. “Well, if that’s the case, seeing as he’s nothing more than a talking pet cat—”

“I ain’t a pet or a cat!”

“I’m afraid my previous statement still remains in place. He’s not to be on school grounds.”

“You heard the Headmage. No school for you.”

But Grim’s already lying flat on the floor like a defeated pancake.

“Then what about us? That hairball can’t get the easy way out and leave us with the worst of it!”

“There’s a way to fix this, isn’t there?”

“Y-Yeah! Can’t you just use magic to fix it right up? It’ll be good as new. Someone with your skill should be able to do it.”

Crowley shakes his head, mournful. “Magic is not limitless. Not only that, but the magestone powering this great chandelier is cracked. And those are not so easily replaced. I fear this is the final day this miraculous chandelier will ever grace this grand hall with its light.”

The ginger-haired student grimaces. “Not good…”

The other withers. “Expelled… What am I going to do? I can’t go back home with this news!”

A magestone… That’s what Grim needs. You glance at the one set into the chandelier. A ghastly crack runs up the surface. Are they really that special?

Before both can succumb to their melancholy, Crowley says, “There is one way! Possibly…”

“Really? What is it?” they say at once, eyes bulging with hope.

“This very magestone was mined from the Dwarfs’ Mine. Perhaps, should you procure one of similar qualities, the chandelier can be repaired.”

“Then… Okay! I’ll get a magestone! As long as it’s all right with you, sir.”

“Ah, but the mines have been closed for some time. I reckon the magestones are all but gone.”

“I’m sure I can find one. Please, sir, I’ll do anything to stay here!”

Crowley seems to consider this. Eventually, he nods his approval. “I’m willing to postpone your expulsion for now.” The navy-haired student’s relief is short-lived when he adds, “However, if you fail to bring a magestone to me by the first rays of the morning sun, it will be expulsion for the both of you. No further exceptions.”

With a hasty nod, he says, “Of course! I understand! Thank you so much for the second chance. I won’t let you down!”

“Yeah, sure. Let’s get this over with.”

You gather an unconscious Grim in your arms while Crowley instructs the students on how to access the mine. They stride off with different degrees of enthusiasm. You open your mouth to ask permission, but Crowley beats you to it.

“Please do accompany them. I trust you’re responsible enough to handle any trouble?”

“If you raise my pay, I’ll do anything.”

He clutches his chest. “Your proclivity to bargain strikes through to my very soul! Ah, but since I am the kindest Headmage I shall grant your request.”

With a satisfied grin, you hold Grim tighter and run off after the pair. “Thanks again, Headmage!”

You follow them all the way to the Mirror Chamber. It’s just as imposing as you recall, but there’s a serene quality to the space that wasn’t there before. Maybe it’s because you’re here willingly and there isn’t an audience to witness your poorly timed debut.

You approach both of them. “Hey! Sorry to bother, but could I join you?”

They turn to look at you. Grim shifts in your arms, groaning.

“I don’t see why not. Welcome to the team,” the navy-haired student says with an awkward smile.

“Might as well. More people means a faster chance at finding that magestone.” He points at Grim next. “And he better be coming, too.”

“That’s the plan. I’ll make sure he won’t cause any problems for you.”

He sighs and shakes his head. “Today’s just not my day. What bad luck…”

“No time to sulk. We’ve gotta get that magestone,” the other says, turning towards the mirror. “Dark Mirror, the Dwarfs’ Mine!”

Grim jerks awake then. “Myaah?! Where am I? What’s goin’ on?”

You hold onto him tightly, preventing him from squirming out of your arms. “Relax. You’ll be fine. I think.”

“What d’ya mean by that?!”

The Dark Mirror brightens with life. There’s a blinding flash of light and then, just like that, you’re taken to the mine’s entrance.

Magestone, here we come!

[octuscle]

Dr. Jekyll

Alexei had been working on this project for weeks. He had been very lucky to be doing a research semester in England when the special military operation began. He took a dim view of any form of war. He was a scientist, not a soldier. But somehow he wanted to play his part in putting the aggressor in his place. As a biochemist, he would not be able to develop weapons. But his plan was to develop a substance that could help increase resistance to injury. And increase the resilience of a wounded body. He was on the verge of a breakthrough. Yesterday he had first inflicted a small cut on himself and then swallowed his substance; today there was no sign of the wound. Not much was missing and he would be able to heal even more complex injuries.

It was already dark. The last colleague had finally said goodbye. Alexei was alone. The last tests with his Laovor rats had been promising. This time he would not inflict a small cut on himself. This time he was going deeper, in the truest sense of the word. To be on the safe side, he had prepared disinfectant and bandages. He took a scalpel and pressed it against his forearm. He had trouble getting the ultra-sharp blade to penetrate his skin at all. There was a short glistening red mark. But it closed again after just a few seconds. No scar, nothing. It had worked! Damn it, it had worked. Alexei was not a person of great emotional reactions… But this, this went right through him. And it went down his pants. In the form of a boner. Fuck yes, his success made him horny. He couldn't help it, he had to jerk off. Here and now in the otherwise sterile laboratory. His otherwise not particularly impressive cock quickly grew to an impressive 20 centimeters. Alexei wanted to enjoy this orgasm, no, he wanted to celebrate it. He wanted…. FUUUUUUUUCK!

There was a huge mess on his lab bench. Test tubes, bacterial cultures, even his lab rats were splattered with an amount of cum that Alexei, as a scientist, would have thought impossible from a human life. And as a scientist, he only needed a few seconds to recover from the orgasm of his life. And he began to clean up the mess. He had amputated a leg from one of his lab rats, one of the first he had experimented with. The wound had closed on its own and quickly, a complete success. But now… Bloody hell! There was no leg missing. And the rat somehow looked… How should we put it…? It was a rat… But a magnificent animal! In a second cage, Alexei saw a rat slurping his cum with its tongue. And here, too, the holes in the gnawed ears closed up and the fur became thicker and shiny. Damn, his cum? A miracle weapon? There was plenty of the stuff left. But Alexei wanted to examine fresh sperm. And yes, he was still or already horny again. He took his cock out of his pants. A long thread of precum shimmered in the lab light. Alexei jerked off, a beaker ready to hand. Even now he didn't have to wait long… He felt it coming and he held the glass to his cock. And again: FUUUUUUUUCK! And another mess. The glass hadn't been able to hold his whole load.

The rat had licked his cum just like that and pure… He wouldn't be able to finish this beaker now. Especially as he wanted to examine a little cum too. But a sip like that…? Alexei was a little disgusted. But it was for science… He had no idea what cum was supposed to taste like. It was kind of interesting, yes… But he had lost a lot of time. He wasn't there yet He began to examine his sperm under the microscope. He didn't know much about human semen. Not his discipline… But this one seemed very agile… Even the one from the first load he had shot. He was getting warm. The lab coat felt tight. He took it off. The T-shirt was also uncomfortable. He was alone, who was going to mind if he worked bare-chested…

Alexei began to work with his cum, fascinated. He chased it through filters and centrifuges, he extracted proteins, he produced new samples. And then he went all out, mixing his previous preparation with a portion of concentrated cum from his last orgasm. No spoon this time. This time a big gulp! Alexei used the scalpel again. First on his forearm. He had considerably more strength than the last time he tried. He managed to make a wound a few millimeters deep. But it healed immediately. It didn't take a second. Alexei started a next attempt. This time not on his arm, but on his free upper body. His chest muscles offered even more resistance than his arms, but here too he managed to produce a briefly bleeding wound. But this also healed in a fraction of a second. Alexei recorded the results in his lab diary. He checked the wound on his forearm again. It was visible. Not as a scar. But in the form of colorful lines. Tattoos were growing on his skin where he had applied the scalpel. And where he had cut his chest, hair was growing!

Shit, it had been over fifteen minutes since he'd jerked off. This time he went to the toilet, massaging the hard-on in his pants. He wouldn't squirt all over the lab bench again. If he was going to make a mess, at least it would be in an easy-to-clean environment. His cock pulsed with anticipation, it took just a few movements of his calloused hands to produce a magnificent hard-on. And it was clear that he was about to squirt all over the walls as well as the toilet bowl. And indeed: BAAAAAANG! He shot off load after load. He tried to catch some of it with his hands in front of the glans. Shit, it got harder with every orgasm. Alexei licked his hands. It tasted so great. Milky pure manhood. He tried to tuck his cock back into his pants. That was harder than he thought. Alexei tried to wipe away some of the mess on the floor with a paper towel. His ass cheeks burst through his pants. And shortly afterwards, the seam on his thighs tore.

Alexei knew that there were a few amateur bodybuilders among the janitors. Maybe he could find something that suited him in their changing rooms. It wasn't really his style to rummage through sacks of dirty clothes. But what could he do? And sure enough, he found a pair of jeans that seemed to fit. A little too wide at the waist. But wide enough on his muscular thighs. He had to do something now. Right: log the latest events in the lab diary. He couldn't remember his cursed password from the notebook. So he took pen and paper.

“And then I'm like jerking my shlong, dude. And then I'm like totally busting a nut. And everything's dripping with my jizz. And I'm licking my fingers, 'cause they're covered in cum. And suddenly, my pants rip, bro. 'Cause, dude, my booty is in absolute competition shape like you wouldn't believe.” What else could he write? For fuck's sake, did this horniness never stop? His tattoos were impressive by now. So was the fur on his chest. Alexei scratched his beard. And shortly afterwards, his sack again. Something was strange here, something was wrong. And he didn't just mean those damn pants, which were too tight around the thighs and too wide at the hips. His crotch was wet from the precum dripping from his mighty boner. He had to get out of here. This air-conditioned air was taking his breath away. As soon as he was out of the lab, he took off his pants. Shit, he was naked, but he was probably alone in the building. There was a locker open in the scientific staff changing room. A racing bike outfit. The matching racing bike was leaning against the wall. Was there someone else here after all? He should have noticed that. He thought for a second about whether he should try putting on the cycling shorts. But they were obviously made for a slim man. And not for a giant 190 cm tall.

Alexei walked down the corridor towards the rooms for the technical staff. He was in the low-security area, where an iris check was enough to open the doors. He arrived in the changing room for the janitors and technicians. Had he been here before today? He couldn't remember… In any case, he found a jockstrap, socks and, above all, a boiler suit in the dirty laundry. It all fitted reasonably well. One of his colleagues also seemed to be in good shape. On the shelf of work boots, he found a pair in size 48 - thank God! The sun was rising, soon the place would be swarming with employees again like an anthill. He didn't want to be naked.

Alex had the feeling he had forgotten something in the lab wing. But he couldn't get back in there. An iris check wouldn't be enough. He needed his ID, which was in the pants he had taken off. He thought as best he could. What could he have forgotten in the lab wing? What would he be doing in the lab wing anyway? Beads of sweat glistened in his chest hair. He smelled under his armpits: sweat and musk. His cock was in someone's jockstrap, surrounded by cum-encrusted pubic hair. If anyone didn't fit into the clean air zones, it was a man like him. And anyway, this biology and chemistry shit wasn't for him. Blocked pipes and maybe a leaky roof: that was his world. But not today. The night shift had been exhausting. Now it was closing time. Maybe to the gym first. But then he was looking forward to a round of wanking and then his bed.

Dedicated to @guytransformedforever; Pics by @ki-kink

[lotus-n-l0ve]

Hellooo, may I request fingering headcanons with Gojo, Suguru, and Sukuna? Thank you <3

Here it is anon Hope you like it. 😊

𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐉𝐮𝐣𝐮𝐭𝐬𝐮 𝐊𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐧 𝐌𝐞𝐧

— Gojo, Suguru, Sukuna x Female Reader

➷ ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ : How they finger you.

➷ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ : finger fucking, kissing, cursing, vulger language, minors dni.

➷ ɴᴏᴛᴇ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ʟᴏᴛᴜꜱ : Hello guys with another request from anon. If you like the headcanons then please leave a like, comment and reblong. They would mean a lot to me. Enjoy ♡

𝐌𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 || 𝐉𝐔𝐉𝐔𝐓𝐒𝐔 𝐊𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐍 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔

Gojo is a slut.

His fingers and thin but long and that is something he takes pride into. Specially when he gets you begging and crying just by his fingers.

He has you sitting on his work desk, legs spreaded, his one hand holding the back of your thigh. Your head thrown back as he pumped his fingers in your needy cunt.

First one finger, then another and then another till you are stuffed with them. Gojo leanes his down as he places feather kisses all over your inner thighs.

The kisses soon turning into hard sucking. Your pussy throbs around his digits as he pulls them back before thrusting them back in.

"You like this? You like this baby? You pussy is so tight. You are squeezing around my fingers like a slut."

Gojo curled his digits, hitting you on the right spots.

Your mouth falls open at his words. You were near and all you can you do is spout nonsense, "Yes, yes gojo—oh fuck."

Gojo looks up at you with his azul eyes. The expression on your face as you cum all over his face.

You sat on his desk. Legs thrown to the side. You inner thighs are red, purple and glistening with his saliva. Your shut eyes and opened mouth as you come down from your high.

Gojo draws out his fingers and cum oozes out of you. He brings them to his mouth, sucking his fingers clean as he moans, "Hmm just as sweet as I remember."

𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔

I have said this before and I'll say it again. Geto has god complex. He won't finger you easily. He will have you fucking yourself on his fingers. You gotta earn it girl.

Geto half lied beside you with his head resting on his palm as he watched you struggle to get off by his fingers. You lying flat on your back, legs up in the air, quivering.

You hold his in you hand as you guide his thick fingers in your throbing hole. Two of his along with one of your finger fondling your inside.

"Sugu-Suguru, please." You beg as tears of frustration roll down your temple.

Suguru coos as he smirks down at you, "Please what sweetheart? You gotta be more clear. All you are doing is crying like a pathetic bitch."

"Make m-me cum........ please."

"Gladly." Geto answered before he pulled your finger out and shoved his own back inside. Two digits were enough to fill you up. You sighed at the relief.

While the digits stroke your inside, his thumb started to dab the hood of your pussy. Your legs jerk closed as a shiver shot up your spine but Suguru instantly pushed them back open and started to thrust even faster and sloppier.

Your back arched, lifting of the bed and your grip tightened on the sheets as you cum all over his hand, "Fuck fuck fuck fu—"

Suguru grinned as he brought his hand to your mouth, pressing the fingers on your parted lip, "Suck."

𝐑𝐘𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀

Sukuna normally doesn't finger you. If he needs to get you were then he straight dives in to eat you out. But sometimes he would have you sitting between his legs with you back against his chest and legs thrown over his.

"All this wet for me princess?" Sukuna grins at you through the mirror as he parts your lips.

You lie your head back on his shoulder as you watch his fingers disappearing in your pussy. His eye following the same movements, "Look at your needy pussy gulping my fingers in like a whore."

He begans to thrust his fingers in you slowly at first before picking up the speed. You back hitting his chest with each thrust.

"Ah.........ah-h Suku-Sukuna." You moan as his his fingers stroke your inside gently but fast.

Sukuna criss crossed his digits, hitting your g-spot. His eyes stared at you with a smug smirk as your expression morphed into a pleasured one.

"Fuck you are taking in like such a good bitch."

Sukuna murmurs in your neck as he licks it before sucking it red. Your legs shake as they tried to close but Sukuna held them open. Thrusts getting harder and faster.

"Kuna, Kuna I'm gonna cum. I'm gonna c-cum—fuck." Your hand dug on his thighs as you cum down from your high. Sukuna smearing your hot and sticky cum over your pussy.

"Only my fingers are enough to make you cum this much eh?" Sukuna grins proudly at your disheveled figure and glistening pussy.

ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ : @coffee-on-a-rainyautumn , @sanzuhotaf , @shima707

© 𝐋𝐎𝐓𝐔𝐒-𝐍-𝐋𝟎𝐕𝐄 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑, 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃 — all content rights belongs to LOTUS-N-L0VE. do not plagiarize any works and do not repost or translate onto any other sites.

All the rights and credits of the characters, gifs, songs and pictures used here belongs to their rightful owners. If you want be added on any my taglist then you can do that here. The ask box is open so if want me to write something then you can request there.

[shall-we-die]

simeon and C please <3

╔‌‌‌‌═══════════════•⊰•°༄༚

{Cum}

☰[Main list]•⊰ Obey me!

Anything to do with cum?

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• (Let me tell you something, I had a lot of guilt while writing this... It's really hard to write smut about characters who are... so innocent 🤧) Simeon likely does not have much experience with cum, as he is a celestial-kind angel and thus is not meant to breed or have that kind of physical relationship with anyone, even other angels. This also may have to do with his general innocence and lack of any sort of romantic/sexual desires, so he likely has never done anything intimate with cum nor has he ever really thought about it.

• Anyways, he's a clean person and he's also a virgin...so he won't usually do anything dirty with cum. Also, most likely, in his first experience with you, he will be very shy and cannot even look you in the eyes. He prefers to cum in a towel, and won't let you touch it at all.

• Your cum? Well, unlike himself, he has no problem with yours. He tries to put aside his shyness and explore your body more. So he takes off his gloves and touches you more. after that things between you gradually get better and his shyness goes away. {"This is the most embarrassing thing I've ever done, but... feels good."}

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"Aaah!...ugh—!" Simeon can be quite noisy depending on his level of arousal. He may moan, groan, or even shout if he's feeling particularly passionate.

"...MC!..." He can also be quite demanding when being touched by you, wanting to feel your touch all over him with an almost desperate intensity.

He pulls you closer with the least amount of energy he had in his hands, wanting more and more of your touch.

He was expressing his pleasure with loud moans and whispers, telling you how much he's enjoying because of your touch on his lengths. "MC... it's... it's... Uh!...so good." When you touch him, he becomes almost frantic, reaching out to touch you back.

Simeon likes to hear expressions of love from you. He wants to feel appreciated and loved, and words help to make that happen. "MC... I love you."

"Love you too." You said, continuing on jerking him off. Simeon appreciates when you show you care. It can be anything from that simple "I love you"s to more complex affirmations that demonstrate how Simeon is special to you and how you will always be there for him.

He covered his mouth with his hand to stop himself from moaning. When he looked at your face, when he saw how you looked at his reactions with your beautiful eyes while jerking his length, his face blushed. His heart beats fast. His eyes become teary.

"You're... you're making me crazy." His eyes drawn to the curve of your neck, the way your hair drapes over your shoulders, and the soft skin of your hands.

"Is that so?... but it's too soon to become crazy." You said, showing him an indifferent mask to tease him more, Touching the tip of his length with your thumb.

You looked at his red face... so you start touching his belly with your other hand. When you touch Simeon, he can't help but feel a rush of euphoria and butterflies in his stomach. He loves when you run your hand against his ticklish skin, caressing and rubbing his body. He's never felt such pleasure from anyone before and it makes him feel loved, safe, and special. Simeon melts when he feels the warmth and affection from your hands.

"You're so slow..." He said, panting. Yes, you were painfully slow, torturing him with your hands, eyes, and all your actions.

When Simeon felt the touch of your lips on his body, he feels a rush of sensations going through his entirety. He shivers because of the heat, because how warm and tight your mouth was around his length.

Simeon thoroughly enjoys when you kiss his body. It causes chills to run up his spine and he can feel his heart beating faster in anticipation for more. He begins to feel dizzy as the sensations become too much for him to bear. "MC! MC!...I'm... I'm, I'm cu— Ah!"

He moaned for last time and covered his face with his hands, but he couldn't hide his embarrassment completely, all of his cum spilled over your hands and face. After his panting subsided and his breathing became regular, you slowly leaned against him and removed his hands from his face.

"Hope you enjoy enough." You said gently. He said nothing but pulls you closer and kisses you.

"It seems you did."

||[🄲um]||

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     ⇆ㅤㅤ◁🄱ㅤㅤ❚❚ㅤㅤ🄳▷ㅤㅤ↻

[ghostiguro]

BUSH BOY YEEHAW!!

His design is so simple, but I adore it. Once I get used to drawing those complex ass antlers, he's gonna be so fun to draw. >:3

RAMBLE TIME:

In my game, he has the jerk trait, which is so perfect for him as a character. He is an absolute menace & I can't clean the outhouse without him beating the shit out of me & stealing my money, but I love it. <33

OBVIOUSLY.. he would work on the farm. But I could also imagine him helping out Heket in the kitchen (cuz of course the God of Famine has to chef it up, I don't make the rules), & also helping Kallamar in the Healing Bay; since he can grow camellias & they are from his domain, naturally he should be quite knowledgeable about them.

As mentioned, he can grow camellias (✨MAGIC✨) , as well as other plants.

In the boss battle, he can just spit balls of acid at you, right? I think it would be a funny & interesting concept to play around with if he could just. do that whenever. Like imagine he's arguing with someone, & his counter is to just spit on their foot so now they're rolling around on the floor, screaming cuz their foot fuckin burns. I think it would be something he has to consciously decide to do, cuz if he's just constantly drooling acid all the time, then it could get.. messy, to say the least.

Leshy the type of mf to slow down the group cuz he just WON'T stop picking up snails.!!!

People tend to assume that him being blind is a major disadvantage & think he is less capable of things because of it; I imagine this would bother him, but he would use it to his advantage & would REVEL in proving people wrong.

I also think he would use his tail to kinda feel around him, & would be adamant about not wearing anything on his feet for the same reason, kinda like Toph from The Last Airbender (what is up with me relating these characters to A:TLA??)

In terms of combat, he IS the weapon. But I could also imagine him using gauntlets as well, I think that would be cool.

Ok that is all for Leshy for now. :3 Enjoy.

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

Can we PLEASE see handyman Jason? In his own verse or just tinkering around in one of the predetermined verses? The head canon a couple weeks ago about him being a Home Depot dad is really just living in my brain tent free

Florida really was god's fucking waiting room, Jason thought, watching a neighborhood Karen and her matching Husband Darren tool by in pastel tennis gear on a gold cart, honking at him as they passed.

Ugh.

He grunted with effort and hefted his toolbox down. Still. I could be worse, he reflected. Being the black sheep. The disinherited son... he could be in jail instead of doing odd jobs for an apartment complex.

Walking away from Gotham and from the Red Hood had been hard. One of te hardest things he'd ever done but. There was freedom he'd never known now. Even if it meant having to see some truly horrific make out sessions with old people in the pool.

Still, as he walked up the walk to the town house, he didn't mind. Miss Maggie was a little dotty. But she was always nice and always offered him a drink and a snack before he left.

He knocked on the door and waited, listening to the sound of footsteps on the other side. Ready to look down into Miss Maggie's wizened little face. All big smiles and a nimbus of white curly hair- Instead he looked down and immediately felt his face go red.

Because he realized- too slowly that he was looking directly into decidedly not a face but a rack. A nice one.

"Can I help you?"

He jerked his eyes away and looked into the face of another woman- A young woman. Evidently trying to decide how angry she should be.

"I uh- Hi- I'm Jason- Jay- Maggie called about her sink?"

"She just went to lie down- I'll- well. I'm sure you know the way-" You step back and let him in and Jason nods, face still burning.

Should he apologize or just try to play it off? Jesus- "So who are-"

"Miss Maggie is my Aunt," you explain. "She had me come to stay... It was approved and-"

"You don't gotta explain. I think it's bullshit people have to get long-term guests approved. Especially if they own the place."

"Rules though," you shrug, "Soda? If I don't at least offer Aunt Maggie'll have a stroke."

"Sure," he said, following you the rest of the way down the hall, pleasedto see you pulled the cleaning supplies out of his way as he set his tools down. "If I don't at least take a soda she'll never let me hear the end of it.

[ornii]

Oh sorry! I mean Yelena from the MCU! :))

Mystery Woman.

A Platonic relationship with Yelena sounds interesting! Plus I’ve been getting back into the MCU.

Many would ask how you ended up dealing with A Russian Assassin. To be fair weird things happen in New York every week so stumbling upon an Assassin isnt a major thing. But you do remember the night, it was cold due to the snow and importantly you just pulled off. Double shift working at a local law firm. Superhero based claims are something that you had to file and that coupled with the constant pressure lead to a very unhappy shift for you.

Finishing up around three you stopped out to the cold and grime of New York lit up by the lights of the city. You wanted to head straight to your apartment, trudging though the snow you cursed to yourself.

“God damn Spider-Man… Daredevil all this shit.” You huffed, who new superhero’s made your life actually harder. You reach the apartment complex and past an alley you hear a thud, loud. Jerking your head you see trash bags lying next to a dumpster, which wasn’t surprising. But what was, was the strand of blonde hair in the dumpster. Curiosity admittedly got the best of you and you creep closer to see what it could be. You prayed it was something that could be easily explained but, it wasn’t.

A woman lied on the dumpster, a bad stab wound in her side, unconscious and losing blood. The sight of a body made you a bit dizzy, and you turned around to leave, “Not your problem.” You thought, but guilt crept up your spine as you heard the weak labored breath of the woman. She was going to die if you didn’t help. “..Fuck.” You whispered and turned around to yank her from the dumpster and throw her into your back, and taking her into the apartment.

Carrying a body was an issue, a bleeding unconscious one was a serious issue. But taking the back door and everyone being asleep made it easy. Slowly pushing the door to your apartment open with your foot you carried the woman to your 6 foot kitchen table, pushing the old pizza boxes and cups on the ground your lied her down and looked over her. Maybe early 30’s, late twenties, you couldn’t fully tell. You saw the growing blood clot on her side and took action and did some, less than chivalrous things. Gently reaching for her jacket you unzipped it and saw the wound. You went to the bathroom and grabbed the first aid kit and performed based treatment, granted you knew much more than most.

Cleaning and Treating the wound, gauze and patching up her wound was next, thankfully to little issue. You felt her forehead.

“Fever.. odd. You weren’t out in the cold long.. unless..” you pushed your thoughts down and picked up the woman and walked to your living room, gently laying her on your couch and tossing a blanket over her, you sat in the chair to watch her. “Alright, when you wake up.. I have a lot of questions.”

You head was back, body limp as you slept in less than 20 minutes, thankfully it was the weekend. Eventually your eyes opened as you heard a shift, looking back forward you saw the couch empty. You attempted to stand up by an arm wrapped around your neck and a knife was mere inches from your face, you felt the blade lower to your throat.

“Tell me who you are, now.” The woman’s voice was Russian. Heavy accent to boot, you slowly raised your hands up to surrender. “I’m not here to hurt you…” you spoke softly to keep her from gutting you.

“I was on my way from work and I found.. you in a dumpster.” You took a deep breath and continued, “you were gonna die so I, took you here.”

The woman didn’t say anything, and you thought this is how you were going to die, until you felt her grip loosen and the knife away from your neck. The woman stepped in front of you, and tilted her head slightly.

“You don’t look like Anyone trying to kill me.” She shrugged.

“Uh.. yeah? I don’t, I don’t kill people.. uh. You’re welcome?” You were very confused, about what was going on. Moments ago she was going to slit your throat and now she’s just, searching your cabinet. “Uh.. what are you doing?” You asked standing up.

“Breakfast.” She responds, looking for cereal.

“Do you need help taking my things?” You approached, watching the random Russian woman look. “No cereal? How do you americas do this..” she muttered.

“We cook actual breakfast, Eggs, sausage, toast? Sometimes waffles.”

“I could eat that.” She said, “Do you know to cook?” You decided to open that Pandora’s box, which her reply worried you.

“How hard can it be?” She said, and you took that personally, you sighed and walked past her to your fridge. “I’ll make breakfast.” You said pretty firmly.

“I don’t need you to—“

“I’m making it, sit down.” You didn’t sound angry or even trying to, just stern. The woman saw how firm you are in it, and shrugged. She sat down as she watched you go to work. Thick slices of bacon on a hot pan, adding eggs to it and stirred for maximum volume, whisking away you decided to prob her mind.

“So, you have a name or are you gonna stay the mysterious girl who tried to kill me after I saved her.” You asked, smirking as you kept the bacon to a crisp. The woman thought for a moment, and answered.

“Yelena.”

“Hm. Not American.. definitely Russian. I doubt you’re an exchange student, so I’m gonna assume you’re here for something else.”

“You could say that, also Add Hot sauce.”

“Ew, no.” You responded.

“It’s not “Ew” to me, and I’m your guest.”

“Guest?” You said, which you realized you did drag her to your apartment. “Fine I’ll add hot sauce for you.” You decided to pour some to mix with the eggs and slightly mix the grease with the hot sauce to a blend that lathers the bacon. After a good roses you placed some on two plates and you both enjoyed the silence.

“Question.” She asked, tasting the flavor and perfect ratio of salt, pepper and hot sauce, with a slight tinge of basil. “Do you pick random woman off the street?”

That actually made you laugh, you didn’t respond and just smiled. Yelena probably expected you to be defensive or angry. Instead you responded.

“Guilt I guess.. if I left you there you probably would have died. I can’t have that in my mind, if I can help someone, I will.” Your response wasn’t something she expected, you looked up from your food to see her staring at you.

“What your eyes don’t work now?” You said jokingly, snapping her out of it.

“No, but I think I’ve, overstayed my welcome is, what you Americans call it.”

“I doubt you’d get far.” You replied, Yelena frowns at this. “And what makes you think that?”

“I mean, that stab was pretty bad, it’s good you didn’t get an infection. Plus I’ll have to stitch you up when I get the chance, plus you can stay here. I don’t think you have the woman to get or rent anyway.” You shrugged. “Plus is Christmas and I’m feeling generous.”

Yelena was confused on why you were being so nice about this.

“Why are you being so nice? I just tried to kill you five minutes ago.”

“You just remind me of my sister, annoying and kind of a shithead but, she has a good heart you know? I mean siblings, right?” You gave a chuckle, for a moment you saw a hint of sadness in her eyes, but Yelena hid it so well. She only had one response to all of it;

“Yeah to siblings.”

Sorry if it’s a bit short, but I’d like to continue it if people want!

[girldragongizzard]

Chapter 3: Adversary

“Hey, Chapman! The yooj?” Jill projects her question around me like a professional thespian, grabbing the attention of the startled customer.

Chapman jerks, looks up at her, and opens their mouth to talk, but takes a quick breath first. Then they look a little relieved but still rattled, and say, “Yyyyyeah. That’d be great!”

Their voice sounds like dark maple syrup, and I’m noticing the complexity of their hairdo this time.

It is a side cut, with the right side of their head shaved clean and showing off a tattoo of three fuchsias hanging down from the top of their scalp where their new hairline is. And the rest of their hair is short in the back and thick and long in the front and styled in a wavy pompadour, with a pointy and groomed sideburn that comes down half an inch below their left earlobe. And the hair is an immaculate dark hot pink.

Everything about them, their name, their voice, their haircut, all keep telling me to keep sticking to they/them for them, for now, until I actually learn their pronoun. Which I’m told is what I should do for everyone, and I try. But there’s something about their whole thing, what they’ve got going on, that transfixes me just a little bit more each time I look at them, and the sense that they’re probably an enby feels like part of it.

But now they look perplexed and still hesitant, like they’re trying to figure out whether they should try to solve a puzzle that’s been presented to them.

“Hey, Meghan, your drink’s ready,” Jill mutters at me.

Oh!

I’m in the way.

I make what I think of as a startled but cheerful sound and reach for my tablet to put it in my purse. But we all notice that the noise that comes from deep in my throat sounds almost exactly like the door chime. And everyone looks delighted and surprised by that, including me I assume.

Then I duck and fluidly bound toward my table, low, quiet, and way more graceful than I even want to be, my tail wiggling in behind me in the process. It’s embarrassing how it feels like my body is suddenly showing off for some reason.

Then I try to hide behind my table and bury my face in my drink.

But I can still clearly see Chapman in my peripheral vision and this display of mine does not seem to have unflustered them.

I may be new to physically being a dragon, and I may have a lot of trouble recognizing things like, say, flirting. But I’m not new to this. 

Whatever Chapman actually thinks of me, I feel like I’m in high school again. And I don’t even know what I think of Chapman, but my limbic system seems to have its ideas. I almost did a mating dance on the way to my table, and I really don’t know what to do about it, so now I’m remaining as still as possible now.

I have no clue what Chapman’s age is, as I watch them finally step forward to engage in their transaction. I’ve always been bad at judging ages. Humans all age at wildly different rates anyway. But also, we’re not even the same species.

Why am I reacting to them like this?

I find myself wondering if maybe they’re another dragon, just still disguised as a human, like I’d been just a week ago.

What if I’m only the first, and there’s more to come? Would I be able to sense the others, kind of in the way that Jill and Cerce already sensed these things about me?

Then I have a super wild thought, and lose myself in it as a way of distracting myself. What if there are no actual humans. What if we’re all mythical creatures waiting to shed our disguises, and that’s why we can sometimes recognize each other?

It seems as likely an explanation for what’s going on with me as anything else I can imagine. And I think I’d really like it to be true.

I decide I’m not going to pursue my feelings. They don’t make any sense. Not sexually, anyway. I wouldn’t mind being Chapman’s friend if they decide they can be friends with me. But I won’t try. They’re clearly unsettled by me, and I don’t want to impose myself on them in any way.

So the real challenge is just being normal when we’re sharing the same space, so I don’t make them more uncomfortable.

I figure that the best way to do this right now is to look around at the other customers.

There’s quite a mix of people today, and all of them are ignoring what’s going on in the front of the shop. They’re ignoring me. As usual.

And it strikes me, as I’m glancing around, now aware of my actual gender and how people seem to see me, that of all the variety of people who look like they might be women here, I share nothing in common with them.

So many of them wear some degree of makeup, and must have some sort of skin care routine. They wear jewelry of various sorts, and know how to put their hair up or get it styled the way they like. Their gestures and ways of speaking aren’t all the same, but seem like a myriad of ways of expressing femininity that I do wish I could mimic.

But, I don’t have hair. Or bare skin to apply anything to. I haven’t bothered with anything like clothes for four days now. And I don’t think I have vocal chords. I have something else that feels like it’s between my lungs. There’s no way I’m going to be using my tongue to craft soft vowels and breathy fricatives. No one alive right now is going to know how to give me vocal lessons.

And it doesn’t matter, because I’m a dragon and I really don’t have to adhere to common human beauty standards to be seen as what I am. But I do feel left out all the same.

And even if I still had a human body and was transitioning like normal, I don’t think I could stand putting stuff on my face to smooth out my complexion and adorn it. But I feel like I should.

I guess I’ve been raised by humans, and spent the first 50 years of my life soaking in human socialization. I shouldn’t be surprised I have this trouble.

Let’s say I decided to wear jewelry as a dragon. That’s something I could probably do. I could wrap necklaces or bracelets around my horns or something like that. I can’t decide if I’d be doing that for myself or to signal to everyone else that I’m female.

And at 50 years old, you’d think I’d be above this sort of quandary, because I’m well past the typical dating age. I’m settled. I’m disabled, too. I have my routines. I know who and what I am, and that’s all that matters. And what I present to the world is what the world gets. Like, other 50 year old women brag about how free they feel, no longer trying to be attractive to mates or meet societal standards.

Obviously, I’m not like other girls my age.

I turn back to my mocha to discover that Chapman is sitting at my table opposite me, composing themself with drink in both hands.

I recall seeing the movement in my peripheral vision earlier, but hadn’t made sense of it because I had successfully lost myself in thought.

I tilt my head to the side, eyes wide.

“Hi,” they say.

—

So I didn’t get a chance to compose my questions, and now Rhoda wants to hear all about Chapman while she tidies up my apartment.

As I knuckle out my explanation for Chapman’s interest in me, Rhoda is holding up things that are scattered around my livingroom and giving me a questioning look. I glance up and either smile or turn my head away, and she decides based on that whether to save it or throw it away.

So many things are just destroyed, and I have to let them go. But with anything that’s still intact, whether it’s useful to me or not, I just can’t get rid of it. I’ve got to have my things.

At certain point, she says, “Meg. Darling. We can’t store all of this in here. There isn’t room for your wings and tail, otherwise. Can you even afford a storage garage?”

In answer, I knuckle out the last few characters and then hit the talk button. “Autistic special interest,” I say.

She quirks her head and asks, “Chapman?”

I smile.

“Oh, that’s sweet. Maybe sie can help you figure out dragon things you might not otherwise know yet,” she says. We’d covered Chapman’s pronouns just a little bit earlier. Rhoda looks around at everything and sighs. Then she suggests, “What if we make your bedroom your hoard room, and turn the livingroom into your new sleeping den? I think the layout works better for that. I mean. Yes, your torso and legs aren’t all that much bigger than a human’s, but with those huge wings and that tail of yours, you know, well…” She gestures and nods at everything, “You do know.”

I acknowledge the truth of that with a gentle, tentative bob of my head.

“We’re going to need some help removing some of this wrecked furniture, too. But I’ve got a line on that. Don’t worry about it.” She tosses some obviously trashed things into the garbage and says, “OK. So. Chapman. Have you got another date with hir lined up?”

“Not date,” I respond. “Yes.”

“Sure,” she says, obviously not agreeing with my assessment. “What’cha gonna do?”

“Talk.”

“Where?”

“Park.”

“Oh, that sounds nice! Lots of room to move around. You can go for a little walk while you chat. I love it,” she says.

“Not date,” I repeat.

“I know,” she says. “My boy always liked going for walks with his friends. They'd all talk and talk and talk, and pace around the whole time even if they were just in the living room. But going places to connect and blab about anything and everything gave them all a sense of purpose, I'm sure. And stimuli and new things to talk about.” She organizes a few things, then continues, “He was autistic, too, you know. And pacing and walking was one of his stims. I wouldn't be surprised if Chapman's the same way.”

“OK, yes,” I reply. Then determined to delve into subjects of my own curiosity, I change the subject by asking the one question I do have cued up, “Why aren’t you freaking out about me being a dragon?”

Rhoda assesses me with tight lips, then replies, “It’s like you shed your old skin that night, you know. Maybe ate it in your sleep. Everyone could see this coming. It's just your new phase of growth.”

“Not you? You not do this?” I ask.

She blinks and wrinkles up her face and says, “Heavens, no! How even would I?” Then she holds up a finger. “Mind you, if I could, I would have. Ages ago! I saw how you were suffering. You were miserable under that old hide of yours. I imagine everyone saw it.”

So, I'm not getting answers from her. At least, not the ones I wanted to hear.

“Tell me,” she says. “What else are you experiencing along with this? Can you see things you couldn't see before? Are your senses sharper?”

“Yes. Thermals,” I reply.

Her eyebrows go up, “Can you fly?”

“Yes!”

“Fantastic!” she exclaims. “That must be amazing! I bet Chapman will love it!”

I’d roll my eyes, but I can’t. I do the big exaggerated head circle again.

“Oh come now,” Rhoda says. “I’m not teasing you about dating. I just genuinely think Chapman would appreciate a demonstration and you should give it to hir.”

She’s right, of course. And I agree to do so.

“In fact, I’d like to see you fly, myself,” she adds.

I look out one of my windows. I’ve got a third story apartment, two stories from the top. And there’s a small parking lot directly across the street. If I were to climb out the window and glide across that lot, I could catch the big thermal there and get some lift before wheeling out over into one of the streets. Some wing work, and I could probably get above the low buildings of that block. Without more experience, it feels really iffy, but I might be able to do it.

But I figure that a creature as big as I am is in real danger of seriously hurting itself in a crash. Too much inertia for bone density. Hell, starlings kill themselves on windows every day.

Intellectually, I know it’s a bad idea to test myself that way, but I find I’m not actually afraid.

I turn my head to look at Rhoda and open my mouth to talk, momentarily forgetting that I can’t really do that anymore, when I catch something big moving swiftly just outside my window.

My memory of it now is just a snapshot flash of an image, another dragon, wings, head, and tail pulled back, and all four feet extended outward to brace for impact with the wall between windows.

The very next moment of memory is bricks, plaster, insulation, wood, wires, and dragon billowing into my partially tidied living room and destroying it.

And I’m somehow turned 180 degrees, facing the monster who is picking themself up from the middle of the rubble of my apartment as Rhoda, who was safe in a corner near the outer wall, away from the impact and out of line of flying debris, shouts.

My tail is curled up awkwardly in the corner of the room near the door to the kitchen, and I’m already crouched and ready to leap upon the intruder, wondering how I got here, wings held tightly to my back.

And I’m also thinking that this maybe answers my questions about the durability of my body.

We are not exactly the same kind of beast, though.

Anyone looking at either of us would call us both dragons. And we have the same number of limbs. But that’s where our similarities end.

I’ve got iridescent blue and indigo scales with a pattern of diamonds down my back. I’ve got fiery orange and gold markings as well, and tan belly scales. I have a pair of horns that sweep back from my skull, and ear canals that are almost hidden behind protective scales. And I’m lithe and pointy, and look something like a cross between a gecko and a caiman, but with wings.

Then there’s this fuzzy brown asshole that looks like if you crossed a bat with a hippo and gave the result a feathered dinosaur tail. And I know that I cannot let that gaping maw anywhere near anything I care about.

I hear a rumbling that is as deep and soul shaking as you’d expect from an earthquake, and realize that it’s me. I’m making that noise with something in my ribcage.

Rhoda is pushing herself further and further back into her corner of the room, even though she’s already pressed up against the walls.

The moment my sudden adversary is free of rubble, they jump forward and let out a croak of a yawp.

In response, I jerk my head up and let out the strangest squawk that starts from the infrasonic rumble that’s been building in the depths of my body and rises to a cracking cry that sounds like an angry parrot. And then as I close my mouth afterward, a clacking noise like a raven’s comes out and I find myself jerking my head with each knock.

It’s not exactly involuntary, I just find myself doing what feels right. And I’m pretty sure the other dragon knows exactly what it means.

I’m not quite as big as my challenger, but my vocal prowess causes them to pause.

I don’t know why this is happening and I don’t know how it’s going to turn out, but two things are extremely obvious.

I’ve got to do whatever I can to keep Rhoda safe, because she is squishy and cannot survive being squished by either of us dragons.

And I’m definitely not getting my damage deposit back.

Also, I decide that hesitating is bad and I want this fucker out of my apartment.

I do a little zigzag. I leap slightly toward the outside wall, to my right, in the direction of my opponent. Then, still accelerating forward, I bound left, pushing off the floor to launch at a spot on the inner wall, twisting my body to plant my feet there so that I can leap off that wall.

I never in my life imagined doing anything like this with my old body. It was just entirely inconceivable, especially as my chronic illness set in. But, I’ve spent countless hours visualizing this exact maneuver with a body nearly identical to the one I have now, in situations I’ve really only seen in action movies.

My tail acts as a springing counterweight that also pushes off the wall just after my hind legs have launched me in the direction of the flying hippo beast. My wings have also made a measured stroke to grab some air and swim through it without slamming into floor or ceiling, but I do feel them brushing surfaces and things in the process.

Head bowed and turned sideways, I slam the peak of my shoulders into the side of the other dragon, and then straighten my neck out and sink my horns into their haunch.

I manage to make them slide about two feet, and squeeze an agonized “grawp” from their throat.

It’s not enough, though. I need them out.

I get smacked repeatedly with their right wing as they try to twist to bite me. But I’m more agile and serpentine than they are, and I’m climbing over the base of their tail and wrapping my own around their legs, hooking my tail barb in one of their ankles and pulling.

Scrabbling and clawing my way to the huge hole in the wall, I manage to get them to spin in place just to reduce the pain caused by my tail barb.

A good nine tenths of the apartment is now flapping wings, dust, and enraged screaming and roaring the likes of which Hollywood has never managed to imitate.

And then I do the thing. If this asshole wants to challenge and fight me, let them do it outside, away from people.

I unhook my tail and leap from my apartment, rumbling and clacking the whole way, and dive across the street to the parking lot.

The sun is going down, so the air is cooling. But it’s been a long summer day and the pavement of the parking lot is still rising with heat, and I spread my wings as wide as I can to catch it.

The lift keeps me from slamming into a car. And, with a beat of my wings and a curve of my spine, I manage to clear a tree near the street and avoid becoming part of the mural painted on the nearest building.

I let out a cackling challenge as I work to gain altitude flying down the street and toward the bay, away from what used to be my home.

I don’t have to turn my head far to see behind me, and a flurry of movement in my peripheral vision tells me I’m being pursued.

Perfect.

How in the God damned hell can that thing fly?

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