#i actually love wearing a skirt over jeans actually i do it irl all the time | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

moranasgrave · 1 year ago

Text

Eren X Morana Kraven (OC) sneak peek !

okay so this is a sneak peek of my wattpad story that’s coming soon! it’s the one i have the most progress in right now and it’s gonna be a longgg one 😝. i will be using an OC of mine bc it’s fun to create characters and backstories of my own and her backstory is based off of someone i know who gave consent for me to write this story. also please let me know if i should write this in 3rd or 1st person so far im doing 1st but i’m not sure.

disclaimer : morana kraven is not the same as me morana. she’s her own person that i based off of someone i know irl (with consent ofc), i had the OC named first actually but i love that name and it goes with my real name so that’s why it’s my user on everything. so no this isn’t a self insert or anything like that i already have a self insert character lmao i just wanted to clear that up.

( CHAPTER 1/2 SNIPPET )

also this prob won’t be proofread yet lolz this is just a small portion of chapter 1 that’s in the form of a drabble! it’ll be much better in the book.

okay i hope you enjoyyy chapters 1-3 should be uploaded to wattpad by august the 25th 🫶🏼 then after i’ll be releasing 5 chapters at a time.

Morana knew she wouldn’t be able to attend this party unless she pregamed first. Her nerves were shot through the roof.

Everything happened so fast with meeting connie, her new plug and close friend. To meeting his friends for lunch at the mall and shopping, and finally getting invited to the back to school party that was happening at Zeke jeagers house.

Connie insisted she come and meet the rest of the people they’ll be hanging out with and Sasha said she’d cry if she didn’t come so here she was.

She got ready with pieck her new roomate, and sasha while connie passed 2 blunts around the room, along with a bottle of Casamigos. They shopping so she had confidence with her brand new outfit and her blunt.

Standing at the front door as connie and pieck impatiently banged on the tall wooden frame, Morana felt so good with all the alcohol and weed dancing in her system.

Eren sat on the couch lighting a blunt waiting for his other friends to arrive. He was already pissed off because his ex mikasa and her little crew of wannabes have been staring him down all night. Purposely walking past him and laughing to eachother and dancing where he could see them.

They broke up 4 months ago after mikasa said some cruel things to him. He had enough of her bad attitude and stuck up ways, she treated him horribly. She only cared about them being the most popular couple at school, but he loved her.

Mikasa was cut throat, she used her popularity and her mindless minions to tear down anyone who stood in her way. Pissing off her ex was a daily task though, her way of still letting him know she was around and not going anywhere.

He dreaded this school year all over again. The next 3 years having to endure this pain alone, no one understood him for real.

He needed his lively friends tonight to get his minds off of things. He perked up in his seat when he heard the loud banging at the door. A devilish grinned crept onto his face as he shifted in his seat, putting out the blunt momentarily so the others could join him.

Jean speeds walking from the kitchen pushing random people as he yells “GOT DAMMIT IM COMING YOU MANIACS.”

Connie’s the first to walk in, wearing an all black nike tech with some jordan’s as usual. His matching diamond earrings and chain sparkling brightly in the lighting of the party. “PARTYSSSS HEREEE”, he shouts as he spots eren jogging over to him.

Sasha and pieck walk in booty bumping and being loud as fuck, clearly both drunk, the pair wearing similar versions of moranas outfit. Morana steps in last greeting jean with a smile and a light hug.

Erens eyes immediately divert towards them, spotting morana his jaw slacked a little as he gawked at her. She had on a black pleated mini skirt with one of those belly dancer tie-around-the-waist scarves draped around the skirt. The gold metal plates jingling together with every step she took. She had a cropped longsleeve black skin tight skirt on with her leopard print bra that peeked through the top, boobs kindly threatening to spill out the top. Black leg warmers running down her tanned smooth legs, and some clear heels that displayed her leopard print french tip pedicure.

‘Wow she is fucking gorgeous’ eren thinks as he continues to stare. Mikasa catches this and saunters her way closer to the scene.

Morana wore her infamous huge black juicy couture purse that had an assortment of pins and keychains also jingling with every step. Her long crimson red hair was down and curly but not in it’s natural state, more of a tight wand curl that gave it a more kempt appearance. She had it half up half down with her bangs curled falling over her forehead. Her strip lashes long and spiked with black eyeliner smudged around her eyes. She changed her face jewelry to gold diamonds to match her outfit, her nose, cheek ,belly, and lip dazzling against the light.

Eren noticed every little detail in her outfit and made a mental note of how good she looked. He irritated himself with the thought of anyone seeing her how he saw her. Yea mikasa was beautiful and popular with everyone, but morana just had an essence and pure beauty that was unmatched. Her gorgeousness was something hard to put into words for eren.

Everyone finally makes their way over to the couch and starts settling in while the blunt makes it’s way around. Mikasa and her crew on one side of the couch, on their phones while mikasa talks to sasha. Eren hated that she still hung out with them, but that’s just how their group was no matter what they all still hung out and had eachothers backs.

Even though she broke his heart in the worst way possible she was still always welcomed. ‘what a joke’ he thought to himself.

Eren didn’t look her way once, instead focusing his attention on morana. She was sandwiched in between connie and pieck on the end of the couch. Diagonal from erens view in the middle of the couch next to armin and the guys.

Mikasa noticed eren staring and immediately followed his gaze to morana, pinching connie’s nipple and everyone laughing as he yelped and rubbed it. She scoffed under her breath, ‘of course he’s interested by her she looks like a hooker’ she thought to herself as she pretended to be interested in what sasha was saying.

“Morana i wanna kiss you bitch you look so hot”, pieck says laying across moranas lap eyes already glazed over. “Stoppp your gonna make me blushhh”, morana playfully hides her face from her.

“Can you guys stop flirting and pay attention to MEEE”, connie says passing the blunt to sasha. “Oh shit hold on before anything”, he stands up looking around at everyone. They all stopped their conversations and looked at connie.

“Everyone this is our new friend Morana Kraven, she’s going to our college this year and she lives in our apartments she’s piecks roommate”, he announces smiling proudly obviously excited about his new friend.

“Hey guys it’s nice to meet you all i hope we can be friends”, morana flashes a toothy smile to everyone.

Everyone gawks at her, Reinas the first to speak “Nice to meet you as well gorgeous.” He’s clearly already drunk but morana pays him no mind saying thank you sweetly.

Everyone goes around introducing themselves welcoming her to their hetic friend group.

“How do you guys know eachother”, eren finally speaks after everyone is done.

“I scared the shit out of her smoking on the porch last night and after she was done peeing her pants we started talking and we just clicked she’s cool as fuck, i think she’ll fit right in”, connie said squeezing moranas cheeks with his hands. “Connie stopp my makeup dude”, she laughs as she slaps his hands away.

Eren laughs and says “yea she looks like a perfect fit.” He secretly curses himself for being infatuated with her. He wasted 4 months of his life getting drained by mikasa, was he really ready to start looking at someone else the same way?

He sits back and watches her as everyone else begins interacting with her, making a mental note to get her number to do more research on her later.

Bertholt and reina start laughing hysterically, even annie cracks a small smile. “No yea she’ll totally be a good fit to our group we needed more girls, plus she’s super hot i mean come on”, sasha says shoving her hand into a random bag a chips that were on the table.

Everyone greets her with open arms, except mikasa. She stares intensely as she watches the boys get red in the face as their talking to her. Armin stuttering over his words like he’s forgotten english. The girls, annie and sasha even her dumb friend historia are gushing over her outfit and hair.

She gets up from her seat, her minions following suit as she strides over to morana standing directly in front of her. Hoping to scare her off from the group before she gets to comfortable.

Pieck sits up and scoffs taking out her phone and touching up her makeup with the camera.

“Mikasa Ackerman, you may of heard of me my fashion blog is pretty popular”, she said with her hands on her hips in a blasé tone. Morana looked away from pieck giving her a confused smile, “Um…sorry but i haven’t, i’ll definitely check it out though i love your outfit.”

Historia and Frieda wince behind mikasa, they knew they’d have to hear about this for hours tonight. Everyone in town knew mikasa, she was powerful there.

Mikasa felt her skin heating up, how dare she act like she doesn’t know her. She showed no signs of this though, she refused to look embarrassed infront of anyone. “Thanks, yours is to for like the club”, mikasa said back as she plucked an imaginary piece of lint off her hot pink mini tube dress.

Before she could respond mikasa made her way back to her area of the couch. “I’m historia and this is my sister frieda, you are so pretty by the way”, the short blonde girl in the blue version of mikasa dress says as she pulls her sister by the arm back to their spots.

“The fuck was that?”, morana asks pieck as she grabs the blunt from connie. “That was the most popular group of girls in the school they call themselves the 30, just stay out of their way they like run the school it’s ridiculous.” Morana nods her head confused about the name but shrugs it off. ‘i’ll ask her more later’ she thinks to herself as she hits the blunt.

She wasn’t dumb, she knew she had a huge secret she had to keep under wraps but she won’t let anyone punk her. ‘This is college not highschool, i don’t know how popular they could be’ she thinks to herself as she passes the blunt back to eren.

His hands linger on her for a second causing her to look into his eyes. “Wow you have really pretty eyes, eren right?” she says holding her gaze.

Eren finally breaks away sitting back in his seat. “Thank you i can’t tell if their blue or green they always mix or some shit, and yea i’m eren”, he say as he hits the blunt to hide his flushing face.

Morana laughs grabbing her chest, “Thats so cool i wish mine we’re a cool color.” Her eyes were black, she looked alien like because of how dark her eyes were and how whites the outer part was. When she looked at someone it was like she was peering into their soul. Eren was absolutely intrigued about this, it was as if her eyes were asking him to spill all his secrets, he almost wanted to give in.

“I think their pretty cool though, you are the first person i’ve seen with all black eyes”, Eren can feel mikasas eyes boring into the side of his head, but he refused to give her any spec of attention.

Mikasa was seething, some new random chick gets accepted into the group just like that? No one discussed this and why is everyone up her ass.

“Kay i gotta use the bathroom, come on girls”, she say quickly getting up and brisking away.

Eren continues casual conversation until morana says “OHMYGOD THIS IS MY SONGGG.” She stands up grabbing pieck and sasha’s hand. “LETS DANCE PLEASEEE”, she shouts over the music already swaying her hips to the music. S.O.S by rihanna is blasting from all the house speakers, everyone making a dash for the dance floor.

Morana looks back at eren, “Sorry that was rude as fuck, but we should talk again sometime! find me at school”, she says as she drags her friends onto the dance floor.

Morana starts really feeling herself when she gets to the dance floor. The lights flashing pink, then purple, then blue giving it a club vibe. The footsteps of people stomping drunkily around dancing on the black hardwood floors.

Morana pulls pieck into her turning around swaying her hips back and forth, using sasha as balance. Pieck immediately follows her lead grabbing her by the waist and following her movements. The sound of moranas belly dancer scarf and piecks chains that hung around her skirt were making a jingling beat to the music.

Morana spins around now face to face with pieck, she bounces around stomping her heels as she feels up her own body dancing between her friends. Eren is on the couch watching in awe, there were 100 people on the dance floor and she still stood out like a dazzling star.

He shifted his pants in his seat when started whining all the way to the floor then popped up, hands around her ankles as she was bent over. He could see her leopard print panties peeking under her skirt. “She’s hot isn’t she”, a voice says on the left side of eren making him jump.

Connie is leaning over his shoulder following his friends eyes towards the new recruit. “Yea whatever she’s cool”, eren says trying to keep his composure. “You should talk to her more after this, i think you guys will have a lot in common.” He slides over the top of the couch plopping next to eren.

“She told me to find her at school so we’ll see what’s up.” He secretly wished they would have at least one class together.

“Tomorrow morning we’re probably gonna wake n bake then help sasha shop for her apartment, you should comeeee”, connie sings raising his eyebrows at his friend. He could tell he was intrigued by her, and with the conversation he had with her last night he figured they could use eachothers company.

“Why the fuck not, jus come wake me up in the morning.” Eren found himself excited about this school year, if she was cool enough to win connie over that quickly, she had to be special. “Bettt we’ll have fun i’ll show you, this year will be amazing.”

They turned their attention back to the dance floor, a girl bumps into sasha, causing morana to almost fall over. “Watch there the fuck your going idiot”, the girl says go sasha. “Ew isn’t that the one who was stuffing her face in the kitchen?”, her friend says furrowing her brows in disgust.

Morana turned around as quick as the sentence came out of the girls mouth. “Yea what we’re not finna do here is talk to my friend like your crazy”, she says laughing. “How about YOU watch where YOUR going and watch your mouth while your at it too thanks”, she says grabbing sasha’s hand pulling her behind her.

“Who the hell even are you don’t start something you can’t finish, take your dumb friend and go back to dancing SLUT”, the girl says taking a sip of her drink.

Morana feels her blood go cold. She knows it’s probably just the alcohol but she hated when people insulted her friends. She’s heard the slut comment plenty of times but talking shit about her friend was doing too much. She closed her eyes trying to count to ten, when she got to 7 and still felt that anger she shrugged.

“I guess it can’t be helped huh”, she backs away from sasha stepping towards the girl close enough to kiss her. “Call my friend another name and see what happens”, she grits through her teeth. The girl leans her head to the side so sasha is in her field of vision, “DUMB. BITCH.”

Morana cracks a half smile before grabbing the girl by her hair and pulling her to the ground. She starts hitting her while her friend pleads on the side for her to let go.

“Ahhhh SHIT, THIS is part of the in common i was talking about, i should get her before she goes to jail”, connie stands up running towards the cat fight. Eren sits there watching as every hit she threw connected to the girls face. ‘She’s definitely done this before’ eren thinks to himself as she throws another punch. He’s kind of shocked that such a sweet looking girl could hit like that.

Mikasa and her girls were coming out the bathroom before they saw morana fighting. “EHMAGAWD SHES BEATING HER ASS”, historia exclaims throwing a fist in the air. “Shut it.”, mikasa warns her dumb friend to tone it down. “What an attention whore, fighting at a party is so middle school.” She walks off leading her girls to the backyard. She couldn’t handle watching everyone ogle that girl anymore. ‘I give her two weeks and i’ll have her out of here’ she thinks to herself as she pushes past people.

Connie runs up and grabs morana by the waist lifting her as high as he can. “ALRIGHT WERE OUT THIS BITCH LETS GO”, he yells as he starts hauling her towards the door. Pieck and sasha follow close behind watching their friend still cussing the girl out over connie’s shoulder.

They’ve barley just met and she already got in a fight over them. Sasha giggled “Thank you Momo you are the best bitch.”

Morana finally stops arguing looking down at sasha. Her face softens, “That was nothing i would’ve killed her if i was sober”, she said laughing a little embarrassed. Sasha could tell she was half serious by her tone which warmed her heart in a weird way.

“YEA YOU TOTALLY BEAT THE SHIT OUT OF HER”, pieck says grabbing sasha’s hand as they make their way out the door.

Eren watched as connie left with the girls, feeling kind of sad that HIS party had to leave.

‘Tomorrow morning’ he thought to himself as he sat back thinking about her.

#black girl blogger #aot fanfiction #eren smut #aot fanfic #eren x oc #eren yeager #eren x reader smut #sneak peek #attack on titan eren #attack on titan #new friends #this is my masterpiece #it’s gonna be so good #i love yall #smut scene next

2 notes · View notes

jadequeen88 · 4 years ago

Text

Incel Tomura

I couldn’t think of a good title for this, so... I just went with something real blunt. Anyway, this was inspired by a friend and how she actually met her IRL boyfriend.

PAIRING: Incel!Shigaraki x egirl!reader

TW: face sitting, degradation, mommy kink, reader basically bullying Tomura (he deserves it)

3.2k~

AS ALWAYS MY FICS ARE STRICTLY 18+

“TCH!”

Tomura scoffed at the screen of his laptop. The Discord server he helped admin had gone to shit since he let that idiot Dabi loosen the requirements to join. It was one thing when Toga joined. He knew she was a decent gamer. But you? With those stereotypical cat-ear headsets, perfectly done make-up and short skirts? Please… He saw right through you. Just another fake ~uwu~ e-girl trying to pretend they knew what they were talking about.

It didn’t end with you being annoyingly informed in the gaming chat, either. You were always in the anime and manga chats, too… Suggesting different ones that there’s no way you actually enjoyed.

But the WORST part of you being in the server? Spamming the picture chat with selfies and outfit pics. No, it wasn’t against the guidelines and yes, you got lots of compliments (of course, you were clearly hot), but it made Tomura livid. Where there used to be pics of half-built PCs and screenshots of character upgrades, now there were endless pictures meant to tease and bait the guys in the server.

Today’s picture is what sent him completely over the edge. Your hair was put up in two messy space buns, signature pink cat-eared headset perched on your head. Your black, mesh top was straining against your tight, hot pink bra, barely hiding your cleavage and your slender neck was adorned with a chunky, black collar with a large, silver ring hanging from the front. The icing on the cake, though… the thing that broke him, was the face you were making. Eyes crossed, little pink tongue lolling past your perfect hot-pink lips, it was an obvious ahegao face. The caption read:

“New collar! Thank you for da gift @XxXknifey_wifeyXxX”

Followed by a bunch of annoying ass emojis.

Tomura shifted in his gaming chair, his growing bulge making his sweats tight. He gritted his teeth and opened his DMs…

******

You snickered as you opened your text chat with Dabi. Poor Tomura… He had no clue his friend was an old high school buddy of yours and sent screenshots every single time he bitched about your presence on the server. At first, it was just a couple of snide comments, but you quickly decided to turn it into a game. You’d add more emojis than you normally would, flirt shamelessly with Toga in the chat, and be very vocal with your opinions. Then it progressed with more and more selfies, pics showing off your new skirts, and pics of your pink, girly gaming setup. Today you pushed it with the ahegao face, you’ll admit. It was pretty out of character for you, but you couldn’t wait to hear about Tomura’s reaction from Dabi.

It was everything you hoped it would be:

Decay_666_

So can we give those bitches their own chat or what? Seriously, I’m sick of seeing their shit everywhere. Did you see her ahegao face selfie? This server was supposed to be for ACTUAL gamers, not fake e-girl sluts spamming the chat with their bullshit…

Cremation_Daddy

Lol, damn dude, calm down… we can make a separate chat. You’re the only one on the server complaining. Y/N really fucking you up that bad?

Decay_666_

Oh, fuck off… she’s just being an attention whore and it’s getting on my nerves.

Cremation_Daddy

Yeah, whatever you say. Prolly jerkin it to that selfie right now

You didn’t know why, but you kinda had a crush on the skinny loser. Knowing how worked up he’d get over the smallest things you did thrilled you. You wanted to know just how badly you affected him and today was the day you’d find out.

*****

Tomura heard a ping from his monitor alerting him to a new DM. expecting it to be Dabi giving him more shit, he scowled and clicked over to his Discord tab. When he saw that it was you DMing him, it was like someone had poured a bucket of ice water over his head. He could barely type he was so nervous.

Y/N

Hey :)

Decay_666_

Y/N

How did you like my new collar?

Tomura panicked. Had Dabi said something? There’s no way he’d do that. How did he even respond to that? He decided to feign ignorance.

Decay_666_

What collar?

Y/N

*image*

He audibly gasped. You sent him the selfie you’d posted in the chat earlier. Somehow, it was even hotter than the first time he’d seen it. Probably because you had sent it to him. You wanted to make sure he saw it. The thought alone made him painfully hard. He typed out a shaky response:

Decay_666_

Yeah… you look really pretty :)

He grimaced. He couldn’t think of anything clever when he was put on the spot like that. Plus, how long had it been since he’d spoken to a girl one on one? Much less a hot one? Never. That’s when.

Y/N

Aww, you’re so sweet :) wanna see it in person?

Now Tomura was wondering if he’d died and gone to heaven. Did she want to meet up? Wearing that fucking collar? There’s no way… He stared at the screen for a good ten minutes before another ping brought him back to reality.

Y/N

I’m free now if you are. Plus, there’s a new episode of *insert favorite anime* out and I didn’t wanna watch it alone.

Decay_666_

Yeah. Sure.

His response was almost uninterested but inside he was panicking. When was the last time he showered? How much time did he have to get ready? Did he even have any clean clothes? He leaped from his chair and ran to the bathroom to brush his teeth. Another ping rang out and he raced to check his DMs to see that you’d sent your address. To his surprise, you only lived a short walk from him. Another jolt of excitement shot through his spine as he quickly responded.

Decay_666_

Be over in 30 :)

He turned on the shower then started picking through his pile of clothes finding the ones that smelled the least offensive. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this nervous and excited at the same time.

*****

Tomura shifted from one foot to the other, nervously scratching at the side of his neck. He caught himself before the skin there broke and he ended up having to deal with a bloody neck on top of already being a nervous wreck. He’d only been standing outside your apartment for a minute or two, but it felt like an eternity. He kept checking his phone to distract himself. Just as he was starting to question if this had been a good idea, the door flung open.

His eyes widened and his mouth turned into a thin line. You answered the door in a fucking towel. He began opening and closing his mouth like a fish that had been plucked from the water. You giggled innocently like it was perfectly normal to answer the door nearly naked.

“You’re here a little earlier than I expected! I just got out of the shower. Come on in,” you moved to the side to give him room to walk through the door into your small apartment. You were sure to not move completely out of the way so he’d have to almost brush against your chest. You could feel him stiffen and hold his breath as he passed by.

This was going to be so much fun…

*****

Tomura’s dick had been painfully hard the moment he’d seen you in that towel. Luckily, when you’d gone into your bedroom to get dressed, he was able to position it in his waistband so he wouldn’t be pitching a tent in front of you. The thought of you noticing him popping a boner just by looking at you in a towel was mortifying.

However, what you decided to change into didn’t help his situation. Your baby pink terry cloth shorts would have shown the curve of your ass had it not been for the little row of ruffles around the bottom. Your tank top, the same baby pink color as your shorts, was pulled tight across your chest (holy shit, were you not wearing a bra?!). A fleeting glance at your chest proved to Tomura that you definitely were not wearing a bra.

“You can come on back,” you beckoned from the doorway of your bedroom, “I thought we’d be more comfortable in here…”

He gulped and rubbed his sweaty palms on his jeans before nodding and rising to walk towards you. Your room was foreign to him. Decorated with all shades of pink and purple, soft, plush bedding, and a soft pink glow emanated from the LED strip lights that lined the walls. Tomura stood awkwardly, looking around for a chair to sit in when you flopped onto your bed and began pulling up the streaming app on your tv.

You looked up at him sweetly and patted the spot on the plush comforter next to you. “Come sit, Tomu! You don’t have to stand way over there. I don’t stink, ya know,” the wink you gave him made his knees buckle.

“Umm,” he chuckled nervously, “No, of course not. You, uhh… you smell…”

No, you were way too close. This was bad. There’s no way he would be able to string together a coherent thought, much less hold an actual conversation with you. You pout and lean in even closer to him.

“Tomuuuuu!” fuck, he hated that he loved that stupid nickname, “You think I smell?!”

“What?! N-no, not at all. I was trying to say that-”

Before he could finish his sentence, you tilted your head to the side offering up your neck for him to smell and he swears his eyes crossed as he tried to absorb what was happening.

“I even wore my new perfume! Go on, smell. Tell me what you think,” you smirk looking out of the corner of your eye.

Fuck.

You were teasing him, he knew you were, but his dick was so hard that he was completely at your mercy. He leaned in to take a tentative sniff and his eyes wandered lower. His breath hitched when he noticed the outline of your hardened nipples peeking through the thin material of your tank top. Before he knew what was happening, you turned your face forward and put your mouth next to his ear.

“Are you looking down my shirt, you pervert?” you purred. Tomura made some sort of incoherent noise and pulled away.

You laughed and pushed his shoulder playfully, “Geeze, I’m just kidding! You’re wound so tight.” you pause making a thoughtful face.

“Oh, I know how to help! Come on, over here,” you pulled him between your spread thighs and proceeded to rub his shoulders, working out all of the knots in his lean back.

After a few seconds, Tomura began to relax into your touch, slumping slightly and letting out a tiny sigh. He was deathly still the entire time you massaged him. He was terrified if he moved too much that his raging boner would free itself from his waistband. When your hands left his shoulders, he started to move away just to be pulled back into your lap. His head landed in your cleavage as your hands trailed down his chest.

“Hmm, so tense, Tomu,” you whispered into the crown of his hair, “Is my massage not working?”

He wanted to yell that of course he was tensed up. That his dick is the hardest it’s ever been in his life and if he doesn’t hold as still as possible, he’s scared he might start humping the air like a pathetic dog. Before he can answer, your hand trails down to the waistband of his jeans, and he freezes. The tips of your fingers brush across his leaking tip and Tomura lets out a low, needy moan before he can stop himself.

“Just what I thought,” you purred as you began to trail your fingers up and down the hard bulge in his jeans, “Pathetic. Look at you, so fucking hard for me. And all I did was rub your shoulders.” He wanted to defend himself, but all he could do was whine as his eyes rolled in the back of his head while you continued touching him through his jeans.

“And to think, I never thought you’d want anything to do with some fake bimbo like me. Because I only game and watch anime for attention, right?” you squeeze his cock through his jeans, causing him to yelp. “Well? What do you have to say for yourself, incel? Wanna tell me why your dick is this hard for me if I’m so annoying to you?”

The realization that Dabi had told you everything flitted through the back of his mind, but he didn’t have room in his brain right then to be mad at him. He had to do whatever he needed to do to keep you touching him.

“I, ahh... I’m s-sorry,” he stuttered pathetically. The front of his jeans was wet from your teasing and the denim was rubbing him raw through his thin boxers, “D-didn’t, fuck, didn’t mean it like… ahh, l-like th-that.”

You loved how easily you could wreck him. You pet his hair back from his sweaty brow as you cooed at him lovingly.

“You know,” you removed your hand from the front of his jeans and he whined from the lack of friction, “You really hurt my feelings, baby. I thought you were so cool and the whole time, behind my back, you said just mean things about me.”

He sat up and turned to face you. His pathetic, needy gaze shot straight to your core. The power you held made you drunk and you desperately wanted more.

“No, no no no…” he grabbed your hands and you realized how clammy they were, “I’m-I’m so sorry. Please! Please…”

“Hmm,” you studied him for a moment, “Well… There might be a way you could make me feel a little better.” you tucked a strand of hair behind his ear, “You were so mean to me.”

“Anything! Please! I-I’ll do anything for you!” desperation started creeping in, thinking you’d leave him hanging with no relief. Little did he know, you had no intention of letting him go any time soon. Your plush lips curled into a devious smile. A soft hand reached up cupping his jaw.

“What a good boy, Tomu,” a tremor passed through his body. You reached over to your nightstand and pulled out the collar you’d taken the selfie in.

“You know,” the collar danced between your painted nails, “This also came with a leash. I was thinking,” your lust-filled eyes meet his, “If you wanted to be a good boy for me… You’d let me see how pretty it looks around your neck.”

Tomura hesitated, his eyes rapidly moving between your eyes and the collar you held. After a moment of consideration, he nodded. You giggled and clapped your hands together excitedly leaping off the bed. You returned with a short, chain-link leash.

“Now,” you leaned in and fastened the collar around his neck. Your bodies were centimeters apart and Tomura thought he might pass out, “When you’re wearing your collar, you don’t call me Y/N,” you nudge his ear with your nose and whisper, “You call me ‘Mommy.’ Do you understand?” you feel him nod against your face.

“That’s not how good boys answer their Mommy. When you answer me, you say, ‘Yes Mommy’ or ‘No Mommy.’ Is that clear?”

“Y-yes… Mommy.”

“Mmm, what a good boy,” you placed a soft kiss on his neck and he let out the most delicious whimper. You hooked a finger through the ring on the front of the collar, “You’re gonna go sit in Mommy’s gaming chair and let her use you as a toy. Okay?”

Tomura’s head was spinning and he almost couldn’t answer until you jerked him by his collar, “Y-yes, Mommy. Please, please make me your toy.”

You stood and dragged him over to your chair and made him sit, “What a polite boy you are! Saying ‘please’ without being asked. If you keep that up, you just might get a reward,” his belt buckle rattled as you worked his jeans down his narrow hips.

A ragged breath escaped his chapped lips as you removed your tiny shorts revealing a black, lace thong. You straddled his lap, your dripping slit hovering a centimeter over the angry, leaking head of his cock. His hands shook as you placed them on your hips and slowly moved your thong to the side. Descending an inch at a time, only teasing his tip, was causing him to come undone underneath you.

“You’re already so close and I’ve only put the tip in. You better be a good boy and not come until I tell you to or you’re going to be punished,” you pushed another couple of inches inside and he nearly wept.

“I-I’m trying, M-mommy! I wanna be a good boy!”

“Mmm, I know, baby. You’re doing so,” another inch, “So…” and another, “Well.” you were fully seated on his cock now. Tomura knew he wouldn’t last. Your velvet walls were sucking him down harder than anything ever had before. It made his fleshlight feel like it was made of sandpaper. You had ruined him for anything else.

With a few rolls of your hips and some high, airy moans, he was about to bust. “Mommy! Mommy, please! I-I’m g-gonna…”

“Tomu,” your voice was authoritative now, “If you come in Mommy’s pussy, I’m going to make you clean it out with your tongue then I’m going to sit on your face until I come as many times as I want.” your hand wrapped around his throat and you started bouncing on his cock. Your filthy words and aggressive motions catapulted him into an orgasm.

“You bad, BAD boy,” a smack to his cheek broke off his moans, “You disobeyed me! Did you do that on purpose?” your hand around his neck flexes, “Are you just a dirty incel that wants Mommy to get mean with you? Answer, Tomu!”

“Yes, Mommy!”

“Tell Mommy what you are…”

“I-I’m a-a… dirty incel.”

“And what do you want?”

“W-want… want Mommy to b-be mean to me…”

You lift him by the collar and attach the leash. He’s thrown onto the bed and you waste no time hovering your dripping slit over his face.

“Now,” you jerk the leash, “Clean up your mess.”

Tomura knew he should be disgusted right now, but his dick was getting harder by the second. With each lick inside your sloppy hole, he shamelessly moaned against your skin. The vibrations were going straight to your clit, causing you to ride his face harder. This went on until you’d almost reached your peak.

“Oh, baby,” you’re making Mommy feel so, so good, “I-I’m gonna…”

Tomura grabbed your ass and moved you back and forth on his face as he sucked your clit into his mouth. Your orgasm hit hard and fast. You lifted your body giving him a moment to breathe before sitting back down, earning a startled mumble from him.

“Don’t think that’s all,” you laughed and humped his face, making his eyes roll into the back of his head, “Be a good boy and mommy might even let you come…”

Tomura only nodded as he began to eat you again like he was starved. Maybe all the stuff you posted in the Discord server wasn’t so annoying anymore...

#Shigaraki #tomura shigaraki #shigaraki tomura #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura x reader #shigaraki x you #bnha smut #tw // mommy kink #tw degradation #tw face sitting #jade writes smut

2K notes · View notes

notnctu · 4 years ago

Text

switchin’ lanes - l.jn | ridin’ club

━ welcome to the ridin’ club smut series

genre ➠ slow burn, smut, pwp???, fluff (if u squint) wordcount ➠ 8.3k details ➠ fem!reader, streetracer!jeno, badboy!jeno, college!au, ━ where you and jeno are in a relationship, but not with each other. warnings ➠ explicit language, cheating, flirty banter, alcohol consumption, drugs, yall at a party, physical fighting (not with you), mentions of cuts/bruises, hickeys, drunk public dry humping, thigh riding, fingering, oral (f/receiving) synopsis ➠ If your boyfriend didn’t decide to join such a stupid unofficial club, then maybe you wouldn’t be in such a sticky situation where Lee Jeno is literally knuckles deep in your sticky situation as he drives you home. Or maybe if your boyfriend actually touched you, then you wouldn’t be seeking it from someone else, who can’t keep his hands off of you. taglist ➠ @rabbit-doyochi ; @darkneogotmyback ; @im-lame-irl ; @p-mini ; @niniluvsmarkhyuck ; @saniahmichael ; @jaehy9ngs ; @danyxthirstae01 ; @jaehyunoos ; @pikijaemin ; @suhweo ; @dearlyminhyung

a/n ➠ hi yall its author doie❀!! i hope you enjoy the series pls leave me feedback lmaoo ill literally take anything. we also hit a milestone for followers and honestly its so crazy to know how quickly this tiny sideblog has grown! we’re so thankful that yall follow us, thank u for lovin us and we will try our best to put out more content!! also through the lens hit 1k notes how is that even possible like wow im speechless thank u for everyone who left such kind comments i treasure every form of feedback :)

The heavy double doors of the classroom stare tauntingly at you. The evening setting in, painting the sky with strokes of orange and pink. You managed to remain complaint free the entire day, until your forgetful boyfriend canceled on you because of a club meeting. A meeting for an unofficial club on campus because it is illegal to street race. A club consists of delinquents that are obsessed with cars and steal your boyfriend away from you.

This is the fifth time this week that your boyfriend stood you up or coincidentally forgot your dates. You can’t remember the last time he physically stood in front of you and not through a phone screen. However, it is not completely the stupid club’s fault that your boyfriend has neglected you.

He truly is the worst boyfriend ever. He blames everything on his bad memory and does not prioritize you in his life. He loves one thing --- his car. You could be lying in a hospital bed, and he wouldn’t care to check up on you.

So why did you stay with him? Because you’re scared of being alone? Possibly, but it is a can of worms that you did not want to open just yet. Sex is definitely not the reason you stay with him. He hasn’t touched you sexually since the first and now, last time you two slept together.

You try your best, to only be waved off with a yawn. He doesn’t compliment you. He doesn’t look at you lovingly. He doesn’t even kiss you for longer than two seconds. You are a toppling tower, ready to crumble at any given moment.

The anger in your body fuels you as you pull the door open to reveal several men in leather jackets chatting away with each other. One by one, they all begin to lay their eyes on who abruptly interrupted their joyous conversations. Your eyes scan the room full of intimidating men, whose auras cause a shiver to run down your spine.

Your boyfriend is nowhere in sight, given that there are plenty enough guys who have the ability to cover him. You walk into the open space and the entire mood of the room shifts.

Heavy cologne and a deafening silence fill the air. One particular male, who has been eyeing you the entire time, gets up and walks towards you.

“Are you lost, baby?” Scoffs and chuckles sparsely cover the corners of the room. The unknown male has a jarring cut on his eyebrow, matching a small bruise on his upper cheekbone.

“I’m looking for my boyfriend…” Your weak voice trails off from the sudden attractive male intimidation. The tall man peers around the room, crossing his arms.

“If you are this beautiful woman’s boyfriend, please fucking come out now. It’s very rude to keep your girl waiting for you!” Initially, his low throaty shout startles you. A heavy heat falls on your cheeks when you register his choice of adjectives.

The whole room falls silent once more, before your pitiful boyfriend steps out from between two bulkier men. “Hey babe, what are you doing here?” His eyes nervously bounce around the room, a shaky laughter erupting from his gut.

“Sorry, Jeno. I didn’t mean to cause such a scene. I didn’t even see her come in.”

Like a trigger, you remember your intentions for storming in uninvited. Jeno gauges your flaming reaction to your boyfriend’s apologetic words. He nods, not out of acceptance of the apology, but out of disbelief.

He pulls your boyfriend by the collar of his white shirt and your eye widens at the condescending tone that causes your boyfriend to cower, “I’m not the one to apologize to.” With a careless toss, your boyfriend ends up shaking in front of you.

“Jeno is not the only one you should be scared of.” You whisper angrily to him as the rest of the room continues on with their previous chatter.

Your boyfriend rolls his eyes, “listen, Jeno’s been arrested before. You don’t want to get on that man’s bad side.”

Your eyes wander behind your boyfriend’s hunching shoulders, catching Jeno steal peeks at you too. There is no interest in the other rambling male that stands in front of him. He just wants to check you out a bit more.

He is the hottest person you’ve ever gotten the attention of. You feel flustered, and a bit flattered at his lingering gaze. His brown hair is slicked back messily, giving you more to admire. Jeno is an absolute cliche from a bad boy fanfiction. He is unreal, and the odd chance that he can’t keep his eyes off of you, is also unreal.

But with a light nudge from a blue haired fellow, Jeno’s eyes peel away from your’s. They exchange a few words, which then propels Jeno to hurriedly put on his slightly tattered leather jacket.

You lick your lips to the sight of his body lines as he stands up to follow his friend, but not without another look back at you. Noticing your stare still on him, he bids you a tiny wave goodbye with a smirk to die for. And like that, he’s gone.

“Are you listening to me?” Your boyfriend’s voice finally reaches your reality. Your focus shifts to the obviously irritated expression on his face.

“I guess, I’m not. Don’t fucking stand me up again or I will key your car.” You aren’t actually those kinds of girls, but your boyfriend didn’t take a threat seriously unless it involves his highly treasured car.

And like Jeno, you also make your exit out of the steamy room. The chilly night brush against your unknowingly hot cheeks. Then, you take yourself to the only unhealthy coping mechanism you can think of: a place of free alcohol and no boyfriend.

It takes you a few months to completely stop caring about your dying relationship. You figure how easy it is for your boyfriend to do it, so you make the same decision.

He spends his nights with his friends he made from his club, and has totally become a self proclaimed car enthusiast. You lose yourself in copious amounts of cheap alcohol at your local parties and it’s almost like you stop sulking over a man who kisses his car goodnight.

While being alone did not bother you as much as you had been dreading, the sexual frustration is a completely different issue. You are absolutely drooling whenever your eyes find Jeno in the crowds of sweaty bodies.

If there is one good thing that came out of your boyfriend’s membership in that club, it had to be Lee Jeno and a few other notable people who attended the same parties as you.

He became a very close acquaintance, and you had learned some very important names associated with the Ridin’ Club. Na Jaemin, Lee Haechan, and Huang Renjun. But the three could not compare to the kindhearted Jeno that makes butterflies stir in your lower abdomen.

Over the months, you also had learned rather quickly that your sexually clouded mind had tricked you previously into thinking that Jeno’s stares were full of lust for you. His girlfriend makes it clear that it isn’t the case.

Although you have caught the couple making out several times when trying to use the bathroom, your feverish, impure attraction toward Jeno never calmed down.

“You’re looking very tempting tonight, baby.” Jeno’s beaming eye smile greets you, even after completely undressing you with his gaze. His arms are wide open to embrace your warm body.

The parties are always too hot to wear a fully clothed outfit. You often settle for a cute tank top and a short skirt to prevent your legs from collecting extra moisture. Jeno, without a fail, shows up in black jeans that clad his lower half, tucked with a simple white shirt. His tattoos and toned arms being on full display for you to admire.

“Better make sure your actual baby doesn’t hear that.” The loud beats of the music make Jeno’s chuckle almost inaudible, but his expression remains cheerful, as per usual. “Did you get into another fight?”

The fresh wound cut through his smooth complexion, which will eventually join the rest of his collection of fading scars. He mindlessly grazes over the new bandaging and dramatically winces. Clearly concerned, you grab his hand away from the injury. “Don’t touch it, stupid.”

His smile curves into a sly smirk, as he intertwines your fingers and kisses the back of your hand. “It doesn’t hurt at all.” His chest heaves into a fit of giggles, “just wanted to see you care for me.”

Groaning, you shake his massive hand off of your’s. “Very funny. I should start charging you for my attention.”

“Name your price, I got all the money in the world for you.” He winks, while lightly pinching your cheek. You are lying to yourself if you thought you could ever stay away from him. Jeno stirs up a part of you that craves the cheesy nicknames, flirty comments and the undivided attention.

He motions you to follow him into the mess of people. Almost as if he’s a god, the crowd parts for you two to walk through without unnecessary extra bodies. The fear that settles in many individuals’ chest is understandable.

Like your first impression, Jeno is a complete walking fanfiction trope. He negotiates better with his fists, usually with good reason. The guns of the Ridin’ Club, though, his friends are very much to be feared as well. They will not hesitate to run someone over, if given the heated situation to do so. And most definitely, you can count them to be backing up their fighter, Jeno.

You had not been mindful before of the chatter that regarded the secret Ridin’ Club. They are notorious for fast paced very illegal races in the middle of nowhere destinations and tempers that aren’t meant to be provoked. Besides their intimidating aura, it melts away after getting to know them.

Lee Haechan, the most annoying brat, but has the strongest, the most loyal bond to his boys. He’s also notably funny, often making you laugh with an exchange of banter.

Huang Renjun, the whiniest and initially quiet boy, but grows to be one of the loudest and will chew you out if anyone dares try engaging in verbal combat.

Na Jaemin, the flirty playboy who always has a swarm of girls, but the gentlest man with a soft spot for cute things.

And finally, Lee Jeno, the owner of your nights. He is the friendliest of them all, despite him being the toughest one. While his stare can kill, melting away his layers reveal the warmest heart. Not that Jeno is the only one to show initial interest in you, but he is the most considerate to the people he holds close to him.

He has taken care of you for many drunk nights and watched protectively over your intoxicated figure in the crowds. He makes you feel safe and seen, which are some of the many reasons you are entirely attracted to him.

“(Y/N)!” Jaemin’s scream pierce your ears the moment the blueberry catches your eye. He excitedly nudges the other two boys, who are busy pouring drinks into red cups.

“You’re going to make me spill it, idiot!” Renjun grumbles, but looks up to see your dazzling smile and tremendous excitement. His own smile grows, “so the life of the party finally decided to say hi.”

“Hi, my fanclub. I appreciate the long awaited greeting.” Your over the top, sarcasm causes all of them to chime loudly. Haechan hands you a cup and wraps his arm around your shoulders.

Jeno joins you at your side and the five of you clink your drinks to the ceiling. A fit of yells over the music and a competition of who can finish first. As per usual, you set your cup down after draining the entirety. The others are still chugging the burning liquid down their throats.

Haechan coughs after dropping his cup onto the counter. His face is twisted with the most disgusted contour, “I don’t know how you do it, (Y/N).”

“I already drank more than you guys, so it just tastes like water now.” You scream over the loud music. Jeno, Jaemin and Renjun toss their empty cups into the sink.

At this rate, you are completely blindsided by the effects of the alcohol as your legs give out to gravity. Jeno catches you quickly, holding your elbows and your head is placed on his shoulder. Jaemin chuckles lovingly, before helping Jeno balance you against the island. Your head feels heavy on your shoulders, as the room spins in front of you.

“You good?” Haechan pats your head gently, whispering close to you.

“I---” You try catching your breath after being winded. “--It’s hitting me now.”

Jeno wraps his arm around your lower waist to draw you close to him, “want to go sit down?” He mumbles into your hair. You nod, Jeno and Renjun supporting your limp body to walk over to the couch.

The dark living room is lit up only by colorful led lights, but it is not enough to make out much of anything. Everyone is in their own world, dancing and socializing within their own selves. The two men set you down on the cushion, but your impulse catches onto Jeno’s wrist before he leaves. Renjun is already lost in the crowd.

“Can I sit on your lap?” You pout cutely, all the shame in your body has been displaced with courage. Jeno’s eyes soften at your sudden request, and kisses the top of your forehead.

“The throne is all yours.” He says as he sits at your side and pulls you on top of his thick thighs. His arm is loosely dangling around your waist, resting on top of your thighs.

The intimate position causes your mind to wander into dark thoughts. His strong, sturdy legs feel delicious against your clothed core. While you’ve been in this position once before, you could never forget how protected, yet very horny it makes you feel.

“What’s on your mind, (y/n)?” Jeno’s deep voice brushes against your bare shoulder and you feel his chest press against your back. “You’ve been pretty silent tonight.”

You turn slightly to face him, “if I told you, I’m scared it would ruin things between us.”

“There’s nothing in the world that can hold me back from you.” He is always so quick to spill such alluring words. His soft lips graze lightly on your skin as his sparkling eyes look up at your expression.

All it takes is one more tiny kiss on your arm to get you grabbing his face, drawing him into a steamy, long awaited kiss. Surprisingly, he kisses you back, open mouth and tongue lapping with your’s. His hands reposition your legs to where you straddle him. Your faces dive deeper into each other’s as the kiss continues to intensify.

Jeno’s lips still have a hint of alcohol, but he mostly tastes like mint gum. And they are comparable to a cloud, the softest lips you have ever made out with. It is like kissing pure heaven, completely different from your boyfriend’s two second pecks. Jeno devours you in a needy way, like he’s been waiting to explore the wonders of your lips.

However, you pull away when you feel the vibration of his phone against your inner thigh, almost like a wake up call. As if all the liquid courage disappeared, you blink back in shock at Jeno’s plump wet lips. The thought of his girlfriend crosses your mind, and maybe slight guilt for your own boyfriend fills your system.

You quickly start getting up from his hot body, “fuck, I’m so sorry..” But his hands pull you back onto him, your legs finding their way open above his thighs again.

“Don’t be, I’ve always wondered what your lips would taste like.” A smirk, then a hearty chuckle relaxes your contracting nerves at the potential of a ruined friendship.

“But, your girlfriend..” Your tiny voice trails off and Jeno picks up your chin. His fingers rubbing along your jawline.

His eyes do another lap around your features. He admires your averting shy eyes, your beautiful lips, and how they all come together to make a stunning you.

There is no doubt in Jeno’s mind that he is very attracted to you. He knew it the moment you barged into the club meeting. You are his type of woman, a good mixture of confident and timidness. You like to have some fun, and aren't afraid to be bold. Not to mention, that you are incredibly hot and every time you flirt back just makes him melt inside.

“She won’t care. She hooks up with people all the time.” It puzzles you, all this time you had been holding yourself back from Jeno because he has a girlfriend. All to find out that the relationship isn’t as serious as you thought it to be.

“I know, it doesn’t make sense. But we aren’t two people to be tied down, but at the same time, we like each other enough to want to stay together.”

Your confused expression causes Jeno to laugh and ask, “what’s the dilemma with your boyfriend?”

Rolling your eyes at the mention of your boyfriend, you sigh, “it’s like we’re still together, but we aren’t at the same time. We’ve abandoned the relationship unknowingly.”

Jeno runs a warm hand up and down your thigh, while he listens intently to you. He nods, grabbing your waist to pull you over his groin. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“No, he’s a shitty person and an even shittier boyfriend. We literally haven’t fucked for the past year. I’m practically a virgin again.” His hand automatically gives your thigh a light squeeze.

Jeno’s eyes light up as you quickly cover your mouth out of embarrassment. A devilish smirk raises his cheekbone, and lust clouds his mind. Gauging his reaction, your cheeks turn hot.

“We’ll have to change that, don’t we? My baby must be all kinds of frustrated. Tell me, do you like when I touch you then?” Jeno drops in tempo, usually when he wants to be more intimidating with a deeper voice.

You clear your throat intending to speak, but you can only nod your head in response. “C’mon, (Y/N). Use your words, like a big girl.” Even with the loud music and continuous chatter, you can hear Jeno‘s taunting whisper.

His words tickle your collarbone as he runs his lips against your neck. Your heart is pumping rapidly at the turn of events, as if the possibility of having something beyond a kiss from Jeno is more than possible at this rate.

Jeno enjoys your small whimpers as he marks your neck with purple love bites. Right in the center of the crowded room, Lee Jeno is just casually giving you hickeys.

“Yes, I love that you can’t keep your hands off of me.”

Almost immediately, you can feel his lips curve into a smile on your skin. Pop! Jeno marvels the darkness against your skin in the mood lighting. A small part of him hopes you do end up seeing your boyfriend sometime soon, so he can see who you really belong to.

“How about we try touching like this?” Jeno pushes you down hard against his pelvis, the veins on his hands becoming evident from the grip and the tiny drawings permanently staining his fingers.

You gasp the moment you feel Jeno’s hip begin to move underneath you to the beat of the song. He rolls your hips rhythmically to match his speed. His clothed hard on can be felt through the only barrier you have on --- your panties.

The thin fabric is soon drenched in your juices after the continuous friction up and down his length. You throw your head back to every bump against your clit, the electrifying feeling enact more of your wetness to puddle.

You can’t believe you were grinding against Jeno in the middle of a full party, as if his friends aren’t a few feet away. It is a good thing that your skirt pools around both of your waists to conceal the dirty deed underneath.

Jeno’s lip escapes under his top row of teeth as he rubs his clothed length against your barely covered pussy. He can feel his jeans dampening from your wetness and his eyes roll to the back of his head from how the feeling of wanting you consumes his body. He really becomes uncontrollable when it comes to you.

This is the most sexual activity you have had with another person for over a year. Jeno just looks absolutely heavenly intoxicated with lust, and your mouth waters at how big his cock must be. You can feel his length the harder Jeno rolls against you, and it is definitely bigger than your boyfriend’s.

You are trying so hard to stay quiet and unnoticeable, but the pleasure seeps out every crevice. Jeno is trained on you as your hand reaches up to cover your mouth, the muffled whimpers escaping your lips uncontrollably.

“I’m so close.” You admit, your body jolting every time his jean button grazes against your sensitive bud.

Jeno moves you over his thigh, forgetting his incredibly hard dick straining in his jeans. As long as you are satisfied, he can care less about his own pleasure. A low scream erupts from your throat when he flexes against you.

His thigh is much more stable, with more control for consistency. You quickly notice the dark, wet spot on his jeans and you blush even harder. Your underwear clings onto you from the excessive moisture, but Jeno continues to help you finish.

The strands of hair cover your face, but Jeno needs to see your fucked out expression. He is taken aback when you start riding his thigh faster, grinding harder without the aid of his hands.

His mouth hangs slightly open in awe at your neediness, he truly did not know the extent of your sexual frustrations. Oh, but how he is incredibly turned on by you getting off on him.

“I want you to cum for me, you deserve it.” Jeno brings you in for another passionate kiss. The mixture of his tongue sucking harshly on yours, and the friction on your clit are more than enough to reach your climax.

Your legs clenched tightly around Jeno’s thigh. The small knot in your stomach that built, drops like the beat playing in the background. The feeling of white is familiar, but it is more intense than when you would touch yourself. You are finally receiving the pleasure from someone else’s touch, someone who wants you to unravel for him.

Jeno pulls away from your lips, kissing down your neck and collarbones as your chest heaves for air. His palm soothes your shaking legs as your climax subsides. You fall into his arms, and he laughs. The reality that you two just did that publicly registers in both of your minds.

Digging your shy face further into Jeno’s shoulder, he whispers lovingly, “let me drive you home.”

“Are you still drunk?” The muffled question tickles Jeno’s neck.

“I think you beautifully cumming on my thigh sobered me up.” He jokes and you quickly cover his mouth. Your heart practically stops and you hope no one else heard him.

It is silly that you are now self conscious, as if the whole room didn’t just watch you and Jeno grind on the couch. But, the feeling of embarrassment and regret lingers in your stomach. You mentally thank the dark room for concealing both of your identities.

“I’m sorry for your jeans.” A pout begs for forgiveness as you stare at Jeno’s beaming smile. He takes your hand off of his mouth, not forgetting to give your fingertips a lingering kiss.

“I’m sorry for your boyfriend. He doesn’t know what he’s missing.” Jeno parts your hair from your neck, admiring the marks he left on you. A small sense of pride builds inside of him, accompanied by a tiny bundle of possessiveness.

“Let me say goodbye to the boys and I’ll take you home.”

Nodding, Jeno carefully lifts you off of him and onto the cushion. He leans over to kiss your cheek. As he gets up, you see the darker shades on his jeans from your doing. However, Jeno is completely unbothered and continues to find his friends.

Now that you are alone, you feel a bit nervous that someone would come up to you and talk about what they saw. Checking your phone, your screen blinds you with absolutely no notifications from your boyfriend. Going on social media is worse, as you scroll to see that your boyfriend posted a photo.

It is a photo of his hot, red polished car. He obnoxiously posed squatting next to the front wheel, his lips puckered up and kissing the rims. With a caption that makes every regret in your body disappear, “with my one and only.”

The phone is tossed somewhere else, wishing to delete the image from your memory. Your eyes wander around the room, when they spot a suspicious man sneakily dropping a small pill in an unattended drink. He, then, looks up and catches your stare. Caught red handed.

But the male smugly smirks, “you’re going to pretend you didn’t see that, like how half of this room pretended to not see you grinding on Jeno.”

“You’re complete scum, I can’t believe you just roofied someone’s drink.” You yell in utter disbelief at the unwavering man. His disgusting smirk changes into a menacing smile.

He approaches you, his height allowing him to tower above. You gulp, scared at how he can easily overpower you at any second.

“And what are you going to do about it? What? Jeno didn’t loosen you up enough?” His revolting hot breath beating down your nose, invading every corner of your personal space.

Before you can find any insult to speak back, his figure goes flying sideways and out of your face. It’d be a lie to not admit your heart skipping a beat at the sight of Jeno’s clenched fists and locked jaw. His sharp gaze watches as the stranger gets up from the ground, inflammation already growing on his left cheek.

“Dude, what the fuck!” He shouts angrily, holding his cheekbone as he winces at the pain. Immediately, the conversations are replaced with gasps, and small whispers at the sight. People gather around the living room to see the commotion. Even you are unsure how to react to the sudden fight.

The other man lunges at Jeno with full force, but Jeno stops him by grabbing the man’s collar, “this,” Jeno punches his lip, busting it open, “is for dropping a roofie in someone’s drink.”

The stranger groans at the impact, but still gets up with a fist straight for Jeno’s gut. Watching Jeno take a blow is much more difficult than you had been expecting.

He crouches over from the punch, but quickly regains his composure to put the man in a headlock. A few more gasps erupt and wonder if you should stop him before he does something unnecessarily stupid.

“This,” the man squirms to try to get out of Jeno’s iron grip, “is for disrespecting my babygirl.” And with a shift snap, the male falls limp and unconscious.

A surprised intake of air and Jeno peers up at your scared expression. He calmly walks over to you, ignoring the swarm of people that had gathered around the scene. He can only see one thing — you. Jeno’s wandering eyes try to read your expression, but all he sees is a terrified girl.

“I’m sorry you had to see that, are you okay, (Y/N)?”

Blinking blankly for a few moments, you are mortified at the laying body, “what did you do to him?”

Jeno looks back at the stranger casually, “I put him to sleep for a bit. He’ll wake up in about 20 minutes.”

A rush of reassurance washes over you knowing that he is alive and Jeno didn’t just kill someone in front of you. You exhale all the anxiousness and nerves,

“thank you for stepping in.”

“I don’t fight without a good reason. You are more than a perfect reason to fight for.” He pinches your cheek cutely, and his tough exterior fades away yet again.

His famous eye smile that warms your insides is back as if the scary, intimidating expression didn’t exist a few seconds ago. Jeno’s good sides only appear with you. Nevertheless, you are happy to know how special you are to see them.

“Violence is never the answer.” He nods, only taking it for a grain of salt. “Are you okay? It looked like stringbean knocked some wind out of your gut.”

The teddy bear thrusts himself forward into a fit of laughter, his head resting on your lap. His melody lights every dark corner inside of you. “He did get a good punch in there, didn’t he?”

His rumbling laughter stops, and he peers up at you. “I can’t believe you were still worried about a complete asshole.”

Scoffing, you break the shared gaze. “I’m a compassionate human being.” Jeno stands up, extending his hand for you to take.

“I know, you’re the best kind of person.” He genuinely means it with the way his tone remains quite stern, eye contact unwavering. He is revealing more of his intimate parts, and in return, you wish for him to see your’s.

Silence drowns out all the commotion between you two. Jeno grows shy at the way the galaxies reflect in your stare. “I--” Never once, did you think you would witness Lee Jeno stammer over his words. “I-I, let’s-- I want to take you for a drive.”

To Jeno, a drive to him is equivalent to your hand in marriage. Even his own girlfriend has never been on a drive with him. It is a big part of his personality, given that he is a crucial member of the Ridin’ Club. However, out of all of them, he is the last one to flaunt his hobby. It is special, almost sacred to his entire being.

“Me?” It is the dumbest question to ask, but you really want to clarify his intentions. Before this night, you two were barely considered friends. You two never saw each other outside of the late night parties.

But now, Lee Jeno wants to take you on a drive. It makes you wonder if the desire of companionship is mutual, that he too pines to further your relationship.

“I’m not looking at anyone else,” Jeno still waiting for your hand and holding an intense eye contact. His heart lays exposed for you, just right on his sleeve. An innocence paints his usual intimidating aura, “let me show my special girl, what is special to me.”

He must possess some magic because he knows every way to make you swoon. And like that, your palm meets his and he locks his fingers between yours.

The moment you enter Jeno’s striking, eye catching car, you automatically relax into the leather seats. His pristine car matches his personality --- simple, but captivating. Your boyfriend’s car is the exact opposite, which is why you never enjoy sitting in it.

Jeno has pieces of himself that scatter his car, like an adorable small plushie that watches out the back window. A beaded lanyard dangles from his rear view mirror. It even matches his scent of a deep ocean breeze.

Unlike your boyfriend’s obnoxious details, Jeno did not have a light up stereo that flashed annoyingly to every beat drop in a song. Instead, a sweet lilac color illuminates at your feet, along with his.

“You like what you see?” Jeno catches you astonish at the tiny aspects of the interior.

“Of course, it’s yours. It’s exactly like how I would imagine it to be.” Jeno is proud, hearing you praise his car. Even he can admit, it is a bit weird to be so connected to an inanimate object.

Nevertheless, his car, racing, driving became a huge part of his life. And unlike his friends, he feels rather shy and slightly embarrassed for being such a geek.

But hearing you actually appreciating the small details of his car when you probably hate every aspect of racing due to your boyfriend’s doing, it makes him feel very happy.

Maybe happy is an understatement, more like overjoy at how you freely can recognize the things that make him content. You respect him, and are mindful that as mundane as a car is, you know that it is something important to him.

Silence becomes the majority of the ride out of the quiet, suburban neighborhood. While Jeno’s eyes remain focused on the road ahead, you are concentrated on him.

He drives with one hand on the wheel as he rests his elbow on the middle console. His eyebrow creases here and there. It is the most normal, mundane activity anyone can do --- drive. That is all he is doing, yet the effect it suddenly has on you can not go unnoticed.

Abruptly, with the rev of the engine and a press on the gas, the car practically flies on the empty freeway. It catches you off guard, causing you to hold onto the grab handle. Jeno peeks over at your shocked figure, and smiles to himself.

“Relax, (Y/N).” He calls your name, reaching over to rub your thigh as a way to calm your anxiousness. Automatically, your hand grips onto his for support and the other one drops from the handle.

Exhaling, your eyes are trained ahead. The car is moving so fast that you can’t even make out anything around you. Everything becomes nothing, but colorful streaks against a dark background. The gravity against your chest feels crushing.

“How-- How fast are you going?”

Jeno glances at the speedometer and intertwines your fingers into his own. “I don’t think I should tell you that, you might actually have a heart attack.”

The window rolls down and you are hit with rumbling wind, “I know you’re scared right now, so stick your head out the window and take a deep breath.”

You look at him in pure fear, “what?! I can’t even move, let alone stick my head out the window!”

Jeno shakes his head, “trust me. Please, trust me.” He needs you to experience the same thrill he does. His own adrenaline is through the roof, out the entire atmosphere of the vehicle. The amount of joy he is experiencing became tenfold now that you are sitting beside him.

You trust him and very meticulously, go against the wind. Your hair crazily dances along with the rush and your eyes water from being dried out. Adjusting to the pressure, you also stick your hand out the window. It whips backward, but you feel the wind slip between your fingers.

The rise in heartbeat and excitement pump through your veins. The beauty in the white streaks that create a runway, it is nothing but you and the open space. There is no other way to explore it, except at a high pace. You understand why Jeno loved it so much.

Jeno bounces between the road and half of your figure out his window. Your eyes are closed initially, before you barely squint open. Tears fly by with strands of your hair, but you start to move your hand to physically feel the thrill pass between your fingers.

Then he sees it in the side mirror: the sweet curve in your lips he loves the most and the wideness of life in your eyes. It only makes him press the gas harder.

“That was incredible! You should take me riding with you more.” You marvel at him as he starts the route to your place. It is complete playfulness that hints in your tone because you are aware of how sacred these are to him. Nevertheless, a part of you still hopes he agrees to do so.

Jeno nods, “only because I like you,” He pauses, gauging your reaction with his side eye gaze, “a lot.”

Your heart sinks to an unsettling place in your stomach. Jeno could not possibly be serious, however, his tone no longer matches the playfulness of your own. It almost seems like he is telling the truth. But you didn’t want to believe that.

Your eyes make a full circle before settling at the disappearing sidewalks, “stay in your lane, Jeno.” It is to keep the mood still light, you and Jeno aren’t ones to be serious.

His hand has been on your thigh for the whole night, whether it be out of habit or comfort. His touch is always welcoming and warm, but suddenly, you feel the small squeeze on your flesh. Turning your attention on his face, you can see how a smirk has grown.

“But yours seems much more fun.” Immediately, your stomach leaps with somersaults. Your throat gets dry and tight, not anticipating that response.

“Beside, you can’t act like we both haven’t swerved. It was barely moments ago that you were cum---”

“---No need to further explain.”

“And I’d proudly do it again.” His voice drops several decibels and his hand slowly snakes it’s way up your thigh. All the while, his eyes still on the road ahead.

You gulp as every heartbeat constricts your throat. Lifting the ends of your skirt higher to expose more, you secretly want Jeno to cause your legs to shake again. “D-Do what again?”

Jeno perks up to the sweetness of curiosity in your tone. He pulls up to a red stoplight, being able to finally look over to your innocent face and needy hands gripping the cute, thin fabric. He stares deeply into your eyes, “make my baby cum.”

Similarly to the stoplight, you give Jeno the green light to pull your panties to the side. You spread your legs wide as his finger massages your pussy lips. He gets dangerously close to your erect clit, barely skimming over it.

A needy, yet delicate moan escapes your lips and Jeno’s jaw tightens. He’s more upset that he’s missing the view of your legs spread, open mouth in ecstasy, half lid eyes all in the passenger seat of his car. He hopes for another red light, just so he can peek over at your delicious figure.

“Jeno, please touch me.” Your voice is airy and desperate. He hummed in response, completely withdrawing his hand from your core. However, you catch his wrist and bring it to rest on your inner thigh. “Please.”

The distinct beg in your tone drives him crazy. As he dips his finger into your sudden wetness, a shiver runs up your spine. Right when he applies minimal pressure on your bundle of nerves, you jolt and close your thighs around his hand.

One touch already feels too good to be true, that finally someone, Lee fucking Jeno, is actually touching your nakedness. Peering down, Jeno’s arm is flexing in between your legs. His veins popping ever so slightly and his tattoos paint his smooth skin.

“Open your legs, babe.” His low devilish chuckle rumbles in your lower abdomen. “Let me give you the lovin’ you’ve been deprived of.”

You shudder at his cadence and slowly pry open your legs. Jeno stops at a red light and gets to see your reaction as he rubs you in a fast rhythmic pace. A soft cry yelps from your throat and you have to grip the handle to keep yourself from spazzing out any further.

Almost like a trance, he doesn’t notice that the light turns green. He’s locked into the sight of your contorting body. Your hips have a mind of its own, yet again, as Jeno feels you rolling deeper into his touch.

“Poor baby, you’re so touch starved that you can’t control yourself.”

“It feels better when you do it.” You whine, your lip being bruised from your biting. But your eyes notice the green illumination and you blink over at Jeno.

He is practically drooling at the sight of you, his eyes are trained at your needy hips and dripping wet core that soaks his fingers. You stop every urge to steal more kisses from him.

Jeno briefly recovers from the trance and steps on the gas. He takes this opportunity to ease a finger into the core, causing you to exclaim and squeeze around his digit. “Oh fuck, you’re so tight.”

“More, Jeno.” The way his name rolls off of your tongue makes his heart flutter and his dick to raise in his jeans. Without much hesitation, he slowly slips in another finger and you moan at the stretch. Pumping and curling, he ensures that you are enjoying every action.

His fingers curl against your plushy flesh and your legs spread wider for him to go deeper. You’re a moaning mess when he curls up to your sweet spot, rubbing his fingertips quickly. The familiar queasy feeling builds in your lower regions, and Jeno becomes merciless with his fingers.

He guides them in and out of you, feeling your tightness release and invite him back in. The sloppy wet noises fill the car and drown out the engine. Your half lidded eyes bounce at Jeno’s unbothered figure and the entire scene seems absolutely unbelievable to you.

One hand on the wheel. The other knuckles deep in your pussy. Eyes focus on the road ahead. A comfortable man spread. His hair is messy from the long night.

It is all too unbelievable, that Jeno’s already giving you a second climax of the night when you could barely get one in a year before. And he loves touching you as much as he loves driving.

However, the guilty raises as fast as the ball of tension in your gut. You two pull up in front of your apartment building, while Jeno’s tugging his fingers against your flesh aggressively. In a split second, you hold onto his wrist to stop him.

He shifts into park when the car settles into a spot and peers over to you. A curious expression daunts onto him, rather concern that he might have been too much. “I’m starting to feel guilty.”

Jeno nods, and retrieves his fingers out of your dripping core. The feeling of emptiness causes all the built up pressure to dissipate.

“I understand,” he begins, but pauses at the sight of your sticky juices glistening on his fingers. Your eyes widen as he licks them clean, a soft moan escaping from the back of his throat.

The small action spikes your heart rate and you rub your legs together. With a pop! Jeno hums delightfully, “baby, you taste so good. I’m a little sad I won’t be tasting more, especially directly from the source.” His lustful eyes glance down at your thighs and back to your profile.

“I’ll walk you up to your apartment.” He says way too casually, unbuckling his seat belt. A mixture of emotions are running through your head. There is guilt, but lust is too powerful to ignore, especially when it’s Lee Jeno. The damage is already done, right? It’s not like it wasn’t moments ago that you humped him in the middle of a party.

“Wait,” your hands find themselves gripping onto his leather jacket tightly. Jeno gently reaches over to release your strong grip and replaces the leather with his hand.

“Yes, babygirl?” Jeno’s round, friendly eyes meet yours. The lust clouded darkness is no longer there. His hand feels hot and somewhat rough.

“I’m going to break up with my boyfriend, so promise me, you’re not going to dip out of my life afterwards… I don’t need you to be anything more than a friend. I just can’t lose you too.”

He turns around in his seat to face you comfortably. “I don’t think you’ve noticed, but I can’t stay away from you, let alone have the ability to leave you.” He reassures you with a soothing and calm tone. His thumb draws circles around your knuckles. “I’m always going to be your friend, whether or not I know how you taste.”

“Do you still want to try it … you know, from the source?” You shyly ask, an innocence embodying your gaze and voice cadence.

Jeno raises an eyebrow, a smirk on his lips. “I’d love to, only if you let me.”

Instantly, you shift to get on your lower back. Jeno watches as you excitedly position yourself open for him and actually finds your eagerness quite adorable. Your left leg bends behind the driver’s seat and your right rests on the dashboard.

He hooks his arms underneath your thighs to pull you forward towards him and your whole body slides against the leather. With a slow lift, your skirt reveals your drenched panties. Rolling them off and tossing them to the back seat, he lays eyes on your still dripping pussy. Jeno takes a second to admire your flower, this being his first time he’s seen such a private part of you.

“You’re beautiful, you know that right?” He chuckles deeply, before his tongue licks a long strip up to your clit. You exclaim out of the tingling pleasure that seized your insides.

He flattens his tongue against your bundle of nerves, flicking and circling. His finger enters your pussy again, curling up to rub at the same pace he is licking. The pure sight of Jeno’s head in between your legs is enough for butterflies to explode.

His sole motive is to make you feel good. There is nothing else in the world that he wants at this moment beside pleasure to overtake your body. Jeno eats you out like he hasn’t had a meal in months. His mouth wraps around your clit. The mixture of his flicks and sucks cause electric bolts to run down your legs.

You get more wet as Jeno pumps his finger in and out of your hole. Your juices are practically dripping onto the interior of the car, but Jeno doesn’t care.

He fucking loves it. He loves the taste of you lingering on his tongue. Your breathless moans. Your waterfall dripping on uncontrollably. The view of you unwinding because of him. Nothing can be more perfect.

Running your hands through his messy locks, you press him closer into you. A devilish smile draws on his face as he flicks his tongue side to side. “Oh, fuck! I’m.. so c--close.”

Your back arches upward into Jeno’s mouth, feeling his muscle lick harder and faster on your throbbing clit. He adds a second finger, and the simultaneous stimulation practically throws you into another dimension. The pleasure overtakes your entire lower half, your legs trembling from pure ecstasy as you approach your orgasm.

“Don’t stop, I’m going to---” Then, Jeno pulls away and shoves his tongue into your warmth. A gasp hits the air as he also continues to rub circles on your sensitive nerves. His tongue fucked your pussy incredibly skillfully and deliciously. With this switch, your legs violently shake and try clamping together.

However, his strength holds you wide and open for display. A low grunt follows suit as his dark eyes zone in on your contoured facial expressions. Then, the white light blind you once again and the ball of tension unravels itself on Jeno’s tongue. Squirming and screaming, your hips buck forward on their own.

It is close to being too catastrophic, this being the most intense orgasm you’ve had after a whole year. Nevertheless, the satisfaction is right on the tips of your toes and you greedily indulge in the euphoric moment. Jeno feels your walls squeeze around his muscle as he laps every last bit of you up.

He is absolutely addicted to your juices, making sure he catches every drop. Finally pulling away, he wipes the extra drip on the back of his hand. Jeno blinks at your raising chest and limp legs. Chuckling, his warm hand massages feeling back into your body.

“Do you want me to carry you back up?” His hoarse, raspy voice wakes you from your post orgasm daydream. You flutter your lashes at him fondly and happily nod at his offer.

Getting out of the car, Jeno walks over to the passenger side and your arms rest nicely around his neck. His palms support your butt, but also smoothing your skirt over to cover your decency. A poke against your outer thigh makes you realize that Jeno is strained against his jeans.

“I can take care of you too.” You pout cutely at Jeno, but he shakes his head.

“It’s not about me tonight. It’s about you.” Leaving a soft kiss on your cheek, his eyes turn into moon crescents from his lovable smile. The kind, friendliness makes an appearance again.

Or so you think! In a sheer second, Jeno’s deep voice rumbles your stomach and his hooded eyes pierce your soul, “next time though, I’m fucking you real good, babe.”

You hum in response. Saliva collects in your mouth, already looking forward to more of Jeno. But a chilly draft brushes up your exposed area as Jeno carries you up the flight of stairs.

“Wait, Jeno… I don’t have my underwear on.” The ‘Level 3’ sign is in view as Jeno turns to walk.

He only laughs and shrugs nonchalantly, “it’s better that way anyways.” Without another word, he continues upward to your floor and you playfully punch his solid chest. In all honesty, that’s not going to be the only time you leave behind your panties in his beloved car.

Your hatred for the notorious Ridin’ Club subside after such a wild night. If anything, you owe it all to your shitty ex-boyfriend for joining such a ridiculous club. Without him and the club’s existence, who knows if Lee Jeno would’ve still swerve into your lane.

3K notes · View notes

peach-skull · 4 years ago

Text

Forever yours

Tomura Shigaraki x Reader

__________________________________________________________________________

tags/TW

Unprotected sex, dry humping, pregnancy mention, cumming inside, childhood friends to lovers, facesitting, shiggy being his nasty self, no quirks au, fluff adjacent

________________________________________________________________

You would get a turn once he died. That’s how it was: That’s how it had been ever since you two were children. Tomura rarely died in video games, so if you wanted a turn you either had to whine until he gave in or wait until he was too focused to notice you take it from him until it was too late. However, you weren’t interested in video games today. You were interested in him. In his soft blue hair, his long, slender fingers, his beautiful crimson eyes. You were head over heels for your best friend since childhood, Tomura Shigaraki. It was a terrible, roiling mixture of puppy love and sheer lust. You wanted to go on long walks and hold his hand. You also wanted him to bend you over a table and fuck you until your legs gave out.

“ Tomu.”

He didn’t answer you, too absorbed in his game to pay attention to anything else. You huffed and tapped him with your foot.

“Tomura!”

Shigaraki muttered something unintelligible and paused his game, looking at you over his shoulder.

“ What do you want, (Y/N)?”

Showtime.

“ I have, uh, a personal question for you”

He grabbed an energy drink and took a sip.

“ Just ask it already.”

You needed to ask this casually. Like you couldn’t care less about the answer. Just making friendly conversation.

“ You’re still a virgin, right?”

He choked on his drink, coughing and sputtering as he tried to think of an answer. Who just asks shit like that?! You better not be making fun of him.

“ That’s none of your goddamn business,asshole.”

Based on his reaction alone, he had to be. You shrugged casually and adjusted one of your thigh-highs, smoothing your pleated skirt once it was back in position. You had worn them especially for him: you knew him long enough to know what he liked.

“ I’ll take that as a yes. So am I. I want to lose it but like, with the right person y’know? Not some rando, or like, a boyfriend who’ll sour the experience if we break up.”

You have never used ‘like’ in a sentence so many times in your life. Or used the word rando.

“ so I was thinking, wouldn’t it be way easier to do it with someone you already trust? Like a close friend . so what if we, Y’know, helped each other ou-

SLAM. before you could even finish your question, Shigaraki had moved from the foot of the bed to the headboard, straddling you with his hands gripping above your head.

He loomed above you, a massive cheshire grin plastered on his flushed face.

“ You aren’t fucking with me, right? You’re being serious? You actually wanna fuck?”

You didn’t expect him to be so enthusiastic about it. You thought he would decline, or accept in a less...intense manner. He was panting and leering and- was he seriously drooling? As if to answer your question, a drop of spit landed on your chest. Maybe a keyhole sweater wasn’t the best thing to wear today.

“N-no, I'm not messing around, Tomu. I-I want… I want to have sex with you.”

Tomura quickly laid on top of you, pinning you down and shoving his tongue into your mouth. You had never been kissed before. You tried to keep up with him, but he was just so rough that it was difficult to do so.You put your trembling hands oh his shoulders and tried to wiggle into a more comfortable position. He snickered and began to grind against your lap, completely misunderstanding what you were trying to do. You pushed his face away, a string of saliva connecting your lips.

“ Get off for a second, I need to move my legs.”

Tomura rolled his eyes but did as you said, crawling backwards on all fours. More of a scuttle, really. You lifted your skirt and spread your legs, revealing your string-tie panties. You didn’t even get the chance to tell him to come back before he pounced, rutting against your covered pussy and latching onto your neck. You could feel the seam of his jeans rubbing on your clit as he frantically humped you. It felt better than you thought it would: his weight on you, the teeth on your throat, the grind of his hard cock on your aching sex. You were getting close to the edge already, moaning and grabbing onto his hoodie as you tried not to finish.

“T-Tomura! Please slow down, I- ah! I’m- I don’t want to cum from kissing! Please, just s-stop for a second!”

Goddammit, he was so close. It hurt to pull away from the warm embrace of your thighs, but he grit his teeth and did it anyways. You had a point: cumming from dry humping alone was a little pathetic. Shigaraki sat back on his heels and surveyed the damage.

Your skirt was pulled up past your stomach. One of your thigh highs had rolled all the way down to your ankle and your neck was covered in bruises. The hole in the chest of your sweater had slipped, exposing the top of your nipples. You weren’t wearing a bra. Holy shit, you weren’t wearing a bra. You had waltzed over to his house and sat on his bed in thigh highs and a sailor skirt and one of those sweaters with a boob window and NO FUCKING BRA. Tomura jumped off of the bed and pulled down his pants without bothering to unzip them. As you stared at the absolute monster of a cock that your best friend somehow had tucked away just moments ago, you only had one question on your mind.

“ um, Shiggy?”

You only called him that when you were particularly nervous. Tomura tore off his hoodie, his shirt going along with it and threw them both on the ground.

“ Why the hell is your dick so goddamn big?!”

He looked down at his crotch as if he had absolutely no clue that his cock was roughly the size of a coke bottle. He looked at you and shrugged.

“ No idea. It’s always been like this, can I fuck your tits?”

He had to be joking.

“What?!”

“ Can you give me a titjob? Please?! I’m really close! It’ll take like two minutes, I swear!

If you weren’t madly in love with this man, you’d put him and his stupid horse cock in a shallow grave.

“ Yeah, yeah, just gimme a sec…”

He sat on the edge of the bed and patted the spot next to him, grinning wildly.

“ Lay down over here and put your boobs on my lap. This’ll be great,I swear.”

Shit, why did he have to be so cute?! You grumbled about various grievances you had with your friend and his dopey smile and that scar on his lips and and his stupid fucking fat dick as you got off his bed and walked over to where he was sitting. You stood in front of him and took off your sweater, chucking it into his face.

“ I swear to GOD if you choke me with that thing, I’ll bite it off. No head-pushing, Understand?”

He just smiled and nodded his head rapidly.

You turned around and took your skirt off, bending over afterwards to roll up the rogue stocking that had decided to slip. While you were busy trying to keep the damn thing from falling again, Tomura grabbed the strings tying your panties together and tugged, undoing the bows and yanking them off of you.

“HEY!”

He held the underwear up to get a closer look. They were white and (f/c) striped, with lace and a little bow on top. Absolutely adorable. He was going to add them to his collection when you weren’t looking,but he just couldn't resist pressing his face into the damp fabric and inhaling deeply.

Was this motherfucker seriously sniffing your panties right in front of you?! You snatched the cloth away from him and threw them across the room, safe from his nasty clutches. For now.

“ Heh, sorry about that (Y/N). You always smell so good, I couldn’t help myself.”

That really shouldn’t have made your stomach flutter the way it did. You laid on the bed, lowering your chest onto Tomura’s lap. He ran his hand down your back and slapped your ass, laughing when you yelped out of pain and surprise.

“ Raise your hips. I can’t have you doing all the work now can I?”

He lowered his hand past your ass, but his fingers couldn’t reach your clit, stopping a few centimeters short. He grumbled and leaned to the side, trying his best to figure out a position that would let him rub your clit and finger your dripping pussy at the same time and gave him the lap titjob he wanted. He might have miscalculated, but that couldn’t be: it looked great in the hentai he saw a couple weeks ago, so it should work just fine IRL!

“ Tomura, this position is kinda weird. I don’t think this is going to work the way you think it will.”

“ Yes it will! C’mon, just raise your hips a little more-”

You looked up at him as best you could from the awkward position on his lap.

“ You saw this in a doujin, didn’t you?”

After around five minutes of arguing about whether or not Tomura’s stupid position would ( or even could) work, you decided to take initiative by pushing him down and sitting on his face. How else were you supposed to shut him up?

“ Sorry, Tomu. This was the only way to get you to be quiet. Seriously, who the hell gets into an argument about hentai in the middle of a hookup? There’s a time and place for everything, dumbass.”

You drooled into your palm to make impromptu lube before wrapping your hand around the head of his cock, smearing your saliva and his precum around as you jerked him off. You had never given a handjob before, but if the moans sending vibrations straight to your core where anything to go on, you were doing a pretty good job. You grabbed the back of his head and ground against his face, giggling when his cock twitched.

“ C’mon, make me cum! Don’t you wanna get to the main event? I want you to rail me until I can't walk. Don’t you wanna fuck me, Tomura? Do you wanna slam that fat cock into my tight little pussy or not?”

He’d always been fun to tease, but never like this. There was a sort of power in it now: you had him right where you wanted him. Or so you thought.Shigaraki growled and grabbed your ass to hold you still. He was sick and tired of you always messing with him. Elbowing him during multiplayer games so he would mess up.Taking the last sip of his energy drink, not even thinking of the indirect kiss. Filling his room with the smell of your perfume after a day of hanging out and then just leaving him alone to masturbate to the thought of you.

“ Aw, are you getting cranky, Tomu? I’m almo-”

He licked along your folds before getting to your clit. He drew slow circles with his tongue before wrapping his lips around the sensitive bundle of nerves and sucking harshly. He flicked his tongue over your clit, adding a maddening amount of stimulation to the already overwhelming act. You squealed and tried to pull away, but his grip on you was too strong.

“ Oh fuck! It’s too much, I’m not gonna be able to - ah!- be able to focus on what I’m doing here!”

Tomura didn’t give a fuck about what you where trying to do. He cared about revenge. And if revenge came in the form of eating your pussy until you cried, then so be it. He had no plans of stopping : your bittersweet taste and your thighs squeezing his head was too damn good. He stopped sucking with a loud pop and shoved his tongue deep inside of you. He didn’t have a lot of experience ( he had 0 experience) but he had heard enough stories from his more socially savvy friends to know that you were supposed to keep your hands, mouth, or toys on the clit at all times. Keeping this advice in mind, he rubbed his thumb over your clit.

This was ridiculous. How was he this good at eating pussy? He was supposed to be the same as you: an inexperienced virgin. Maybe all that porn he watched did some good. You had no idea. All you knew for certain was that if he got the upper hand, you’d never hear the end of it. Your efforts had slowed due to Shigaraki’s distraction. You gripped his cock harder and moved your hand faster. Tomura moaned and bucked his hips. With the amount of precum that was leaking out, he had to be close.

He didn’t want to let you win, but your hand was making it impossible to focus. It was just so damn soft: nothing like his rough, calloused fist. Tomura had no idea how he was going to go back to his left hand after this. If your hand was this good, what was your cunt going to feel like? It really hit him then. He had been fantasizing about it for years, and now it was actually going to happen. He was going to fuck you. The mere thought of it caused the tension in his stomach to break, thick ropes of cum spurting out of his throbbing cock and landing on his torso. The look on his face was driving you insane: bright red, eyes rolled back in his skull, brows crinkled in a way you had always found adorable. You threaded your fingers through his hair with both hands and started desperately humping his face. You wanted to cum,needed to cum: you just wanted him to fuck you already. You had waited for years. You finally came with a wail, crushing his head between your thighs as you rode out the high of your long-awaited orgasm.

It took you several seconds to remember that your friend probably needed to breathe. You got off of him as quickly as you could on your trembling legs.

“ Are you okay, Shiggy? I didn’t mean to suffocate you: it just felt so good that I lost control…”

Shigaraki quickly sat up. He was doing great: just had the best nut of his entire life, got his head squeezed and his hair pulled, and he was going to lose his virginity to the girl he had pined over for nearly his entire life. How could he be doing anything other than amazing?!

“ I'm good.”

You looked at the mess all over his chest. How was it even possible to cum that much and still be hard? Was that just how much there always was? Did he need to see a doctor?

While the gears turned in your head, Tomura grabbed a shirt from the floor and wiped himself off, tossing the soiled fabric away once he was done. The sheer nastiness of that snapped you out of your confused state. You were about to say something when he beat you to it.

“ What position do you want to do?”

“Huh?”

“Y’know, like doggy, or cowgirl, or wheelbarrow-”

You didn’t think wheelbarrow was an actual position, but you really didn’t want to get into another argument right now. You were gonna call him out on it later, though.

“ I’d like to do missionary.”

Tomura nodded sagely. Missionary was a classic. A bit basic, but it would do.

“If you’re ready, let’s move on to the next level”

You nodded, too nervous to speak. He shuffled slowly towards you, hands shaking and arms outstretched. He needed to be cool about this: he came on a bit strong after your proposal earlier. You laid on your back and resisted the urge to cover your face with your hands. You had wanted this for such a long time, but he was just so big and he was seeing you naked and he was actually kind of muscular without his clothes on and- for fucks sake was he seriously drooling again?!

Shigaraki quickly wiped the drool away from his mouth. You were just so beautiful. You looked scared,though-was it the drooling? He couldn’t help that! He started to scratch his neck- a habit that he just couldn’t seem to break. Even if it meant that he wasn’t going to get to have sex today, he needed to make sure that you still wanted this.

“ Are you okay? We can… we can stop i-

“NO! I mean- n-no, I’m fine. Just- just be gentle, okay?

Gentle. He could do that. Just go slow, don’t go in all the way, and probably no biting. Wait, didn’t he need a condom? It must not be that big of a deal if you didn’t bother to bring it up, right? Yeah, he could just pull out.

Tomura grabbed the base of his cock and lined it at your entrance before carefully pushing inside of you. It didn’t hurt nearly as bad as you thought it would: it just stung a little bit. You had expected ripping, bleeding pain before seeing his dick, and kind of assumed you would die after seeing it in all it’s terrifying glory. But no! You were alive and thriving.

Your partner in crime, however, was having a significantly harder time. Your pussy made his fleshlight feel like sandpaper in comparison: he considered burning the stupid peice of silicone after you two were done for being so inferior to the real thing. The fleshlight wasn’t this tight, or this warm, and it didn’t twitch like your pussy did. He honestly felt kind of bad for the times that he used it while thinking of you- not for jacking off to you or anything like that, but for using that piece of shit as a stand-in. It was insulting. Shigaraki figured that it probably wasn’t the best idea to put it in all the way in,but it was taking every ounce of his self-control to not just slam in balls-deep and fuck you into the mattress.

….. Was he okay? There was a vein bulging on his forehead and he looked damn-near terrified. You were going to have to make the first move again. You put your hands on his waist and pulled him towards you until his hips were flush with yours. Despite the slow entrance, his cock hitting your cervix still knocked the air out of you. It hurt a bit more now, but not nearly enough to stop.

“ I-it’s okay Shiggy, it doesn’t hurt. You can move now..”

Tomura cautiously pulled backwards a few inches and pressed back inside just as carefully. His first couple of thrusts were a bit awkward, but he soon found a slow, steady rhythm.

You couldn’t believe how soft he was being. He leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on your collar bone before moving to your breasts, licking your nipple before putting it in his mouth and sucking. His other hand was lightly caressing the opposing mound. It was all so sweet and tender that you almost wanted to cry: you knew that he didn’t feel the same way that you did. But for now, all you could do was stroke his hair and pretend that you were making love instead of just hooking up.

“Mmmmn, T-tomur-ah!”

This wasn’t fair! He had liked you for years, you were gasping and moaning underneath him, but something unpleasant was still prodding at the back of his thoughts. After this, you were going to find some strong, confident man to take his place. This was just practice. Shigaraki didn’t want this to be practice: he wanted you to be his last. He wanted to be your only. He buried his face in the crook of your neck and started to thrust into you harder. He wanted you to be all his.

“ Mmmineeee...”

Mine?! Did he just say “mine”?! Did he- did he feel the same way?! No, that couldn't be: you probably just misheard him.

“ um, w-what did you say?”

He snapped his head up and glared at you, his ruby eyes practically glowing.

“ I said mine! I want you to be mine! MY player two, MY pussy,MINE!”

With every repeat of mine he slammed into you a little harder, a little rougher.

“Come on, say it! Say you’ll be mine, (Y/N)!

You felt like such an idiot. Of course Tomura wasn’t going to say that he liked you- this was Tomura you were talking about. But he’d been showing it for years- walking you home, helping you win plushies at the arcade, dying on purpose so you would get a chance to play, giving you his hoodie whenever it was cold out…. How did you not notice? But he was never going to take the final step. So as per usual, it was up to you to take initiative. You put your hand on his cheek and smiled when he nuzzled into your touch.

“ I love you, Tomura. I’ve always been yours.”

He froze at your confession. Oh shit, did you go too far? Was the whole “mine” thing just his idea of dirty talk? Shigaraki pulled out and moved backwards. Just as you were about to say something, he grabbed your knees and moved your legs up until they were above your head. Was he seriously going to just ignore what you just said?! You just told him that you loved him, for fucks sake! Did all the blood rushing to his dick leave him braindead?

Shigaraki knew the look on your face well: narrowed eyes, pursed lips, puffed cheeks. Impatient and suspicious. He’d better not keep you waiting,then. He positioned himself so that his cock was dangling above your exposed hole and leaned in close until you two were nose to nose.

“ I love you too, (Y/N).”

With your confession returned, he slammed into your waiting cunt in one quick thrust, groaning as he was finally balls-deep inside of your warm,slick pussy. You squealed as he jackrabbited into your core with short, deep thrusts, hitting a spot inside that you’d never been able to reach. The headboard of the bed crashed against the wall loudly, creating a lewd orchestra alongside the squeaking of the bedsprings and your wanton moans. Tomura’s hair fell alongside your face in a soft curtain, making it so he was the only thing you could see. As if you’d look anywhere else.

“ I love you! I love you! I mean it, I love you! You’re gorgeous, you feel so good, I love you! I love you so fucking much! I love you! IloveyouIloveyouIloveyouIloveyouIloveIloveyouIloveyouIloveyouIloveyouIloveyouIloveyouIloveIloveyouIloveyou-”

You pulled your babbling lover into a deep kiss as the knot inside of your stomach snapped. Your convulsing walls squeezed his cock in a vice grip as you came, nearly sending him over the edge .

“ C-can I cum inside? I don’t wanna pull out! I swear I’ll take responsibility if you get pre- i-if anything happens! Please, let me cum inside of you!”

You could barely think through your haze, so you just nodded your head. Of course he could cum inside: where else was it supposed to go? He wasn’t wearing a condom after all… you probably should’ve made him wear one. Oh well. That was a problem for future (Y/N) to worry about.

Tomura wrapped his arms around your waist and thrusted his hips one more time before

Blowing his load directly into your womb, spurt after spurt of creamy white filling you to the brim, tongue sticking out of his mouth as he howled with pleasure.

“Hhhhhhhhh…. I love youuuu…..”

He let out a contented sigh and flopped on top of you without bothering to take his cock out of your cum-filled pussy. He was too tired- he’d pull out after a nap. You were just as exhausted as he was- cleanup was just another issue future (Y/N) would have to deal with. You yawned and nuzzled into his neck before drifting into a peaceful, messy sleep.

End

_______________________________________

I wrote this after a debate with @libiraki about who’s dick was worse: Shigaraki or Dabi’s.

#i wrote it like a month after but still #shigaraki tomura #shigaraki x reader #smut #its nasty boy shig hours who tf is up #shiggy smut #childhood friends to lovers #quirkless au

877 notes · View notes

oogaboogasphincter · 3 years ago

Text

The 50/10 Method (Agent Whiskey x f!reader)

Summary: Jack makes the most of your 10 minute study break.

Word Count: 2.7k+

Rating: E (explicit) 18+ ONLY! bc this is just cringey smut lmfao

Warnings: smut (oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v sex (obvi use protection irl), very easily and conveniently reached orgasms (this is a fantasy i can do what i want skjfkd), dirty talk, one (1) allusion to thigh riding and one (1) instance of 💙spitting💙, fingering, positions i hope i've given enough detail so y’all can imagine what i was picturing💀), pet names (sweetheart, honey, cowboy *affectionately*, good girl, baby), there’s a sentence about reader having long-ish hair, reader and jack have a dog, swearing, reader is afab and is called things like good girl and the like, just overall trash grammar and structure 😇

Author’s Note: so this is very poorly written and extremely self-indulgent, as i myself use the 50/10 method 🙃. but i had a lot of fun with it, and i think that’s what writing is supposed to be all about! :) also i was heavily inspired to write this after reading “Take a Break” by @mellowswriting and “Study Buddy” by @pascalpanic. please go check those out because they’re absolutely fantastic!!!!! +while you’re at it, i would highly advise you to read anything on their masterlists bc they’re just 💜exquisite💜

gif by @thernandalorian

The lines of text on your computer screen are starting to blend into each other, creating a single run-on sentence that one of your previous English teachers would ridicule the author for. The sharp curves and angles that distinguish each letter from the next are becoming soft and dull, blurring into each other until your brain can only recognize it as a smeared streak of black on white.

It’s 11:00am on a Saturday, a big exam set for the upcoming Monday’s morning. You don’t feel rushed for time, or overloaded with unknown material, and the early hours of the day have been quite productive. Following a shared breakfast of homemade waffles in bed with Jack, your boyfriend, you didn’t complain when setting up your study station on the living room’s large oak table. If anything, you had been excited to begin studying early in the hopes of finishing your review by the end of the day. That way, tomorrow would be free for you and Jack to do whatever you pleased.

However, as the hours went by, your motivation was slowly but surely diminishing. The serene study atmosphere that you usually thrive in is now driving you mad. You yearn for a noise, any noise; a bird to sing a song in the tree outside your window, the smack of your dog’s loose wrinkles against each other as he attempts to shake the sleep out of him, a pencil unable to stop itself from rolling and dropping onto the floor with a tink.

You’re momentarily gifted with the crisp sound of a page turning. You flit your eyes over to gaze upon the source of your granted wish and your heart flutters in reaction to the sight: Jack’s resting on the couch, cowboy hat balanced on the back of it, deeply absorbed in the next installment of his favorite murder-mystery series. You find it curious that his desire for an adrenaline-filled challenge doesn’t stop when he comes home from mission after mission that nearly cost him his life. You’ll ask him about his insatiability one day, but for now you categorize it as fictional research for his Statesman assignments.

Your short glance quickly turns into an entranced stare. Jack looks... divine. Fetching. Luscious. As he’s lying on his back, neck propped up against the arm of the couch, his book balanced on his chest, relaxation radiates off of him in waves and utterly seduces you. You’re surprised that he hasn’t been a greater distraction to you throughout the morning. How have you managed to ignore the denim-wearin’, plaid-shirted, pornstache-sportin’ cowboy of your dreams that is only a few steps away?

Involuntarily, the thigh muscles of your crossed legs contract in an effort to bring some semblance of friction to your now weeping core. Similar to your imaginings of your dog earlier, you shake your head to force these heavy, unwanted feelings to dissipate and turn back to the work in front of you. Of course, Jack does the opposite of what you’d like him to do and takes an interest in your fidgeting. He peeks over the top of his book, “You cold, sweetheart?”

His question is reasonable: you’re purposely wearing a skirt that’s so short it rides up quite high when you sit. You don’t dare to meet his eyes and answer while pulling a textbook close and opening it up, “No, I’m okay.”

Fortunately he returns to his reading. Your attention is able to retain itself for about a paragraph, but then your mind takes a sharp detour back to those pesky, steamy desires. You mentally huff at your inability to remain concentrated on your studies and rifle through the options of what you can do to satiate yourself for the time being.

You could switch texts and force your brain to recognize the change and therefore become distracted. You could pick out some colored writing utensils and bring some fun to active reading. You could say fuck it, go straddle Jack and beg him to use you in whichever way he would like.

Jack interrupts your brainstorming, “Are you sure you don’t need a blanket or sumthin’? I can go get my jacket for ya.”

The attentiveness of your southern lover melts your heart. You turn to him, “No, really, I’m okay, thanks.”

“I wouldn’t count a bathroom break as taking away from your 50 minutes, honey, if that’s what’s makin’ you twitch.”

You had been implementing and strictly adhering to the 50/10 method all morning: study for 50 minutes, take a break for ten. Its effectiveness was never doubted, as it has proven to work for you for years. Only ten minutes into this 50 minute period, the devil of restlessness pokes at you and makes you think could time go by any slower? A hand comes up to cover the blush creeping across your cheek as you dismiss Jack’s suggestion, “No, that’s not it.”

Behind your embarrassed hand, Jack cocks an eyebrow at you. Your simple choice of words has given the Agent a hint, that there is something that’s bothering you, he just hasn’t figured it out yet and you don’t want to admit what it is for some reason. He returns to his book, however lost in thought about what your problem could be, while you task every cell in your body to pay attention to your studies.

35 minutes remain on the clock, and Jack guesses, “Did you have too much coffee?”

You can’t help but grin at his sleuthing, “No, I just had my regular.”

He conjures up another possible solution five minutes later, “Are you itchin’ to get out of the house? We haven’t left in two days.”

He’s getting warmer. Both of you know exactly why you haven’t left the house in two days: you’d been occupied with activities of the sinful variety. You can’t gauge yet whether or not he knows he’s dancing around the answer, “Baby, you’re distracting me. And nope, it’s not that.”

He smiles apologetically, “Sorry,” and uses his book as a partition, blocking your ability to procrastinate and just visually drool all over him.

Silence fills the next 20 minutes. Even though Jack is out of your sight, details from your observations exaggerate themselves in your mind to the point that they’re all encompassing, intoxicating. The way his jeans wrap around his legs ever so perfectly, the worn denim hugging those muscular thighs that he loves for you to grind yourself against when you’re feeling especially desperate (like now). How his plaid flannel slopes over the swell of his belly, stretching tight against his skin as his diaphragm contracts and deflating when he exhales. Even his large feet, strewn about lazily on the couch, his toes pointing in different directions, amuse you.

Ten minutes remain in your study session. Feeling guilty about spending the majority of the last hour envisioning the seductive intricacies of your boyfriend, you actually start to study.

“How many times do you think I can make you cum in ten minutes?”

Your eyes are ripped from your material and land on the menace lazing on the couch. He’s put his book down, one arm behind his head while the other is crooked, allowing himself to palm his cock through his pants. Jack’s wearing a shit-eating grin, bewitching your crossed legs to switch which one is on top; an excuse to apply more pressure to the yearning area between them. You fidget in the chair, shamefully trying to get the seam of your underwear to rub against you in just the right way. You shrug, “I-I’m not sure.”

He gets up and comes over to you, standing behind you and leaning forward to rest his chin on your shoulder. He murmurs in your ear, “I think we should find out during your next break.”

You turn to face him, “I think so too.”

He gives you a quick kiss, “Well, you better be a good girl and study for these last few minutes. Earn that break.” He places his large hands on either side of your head and turns it toward your materials, making you both laugh.

Somehow, you’re able to pay attention. Jack’s impending promise of ravaging you for ten minutes straight quells your jittering nerves and gives you something specific to look forward to. Before you know it, your alarm is beeping, alerting you that your break has commenced. Jack cages you by reaching forward and grabs the clock, programs it to ten minutes and keeps it in his hand. He grips the sides of your swivel chair, pulls it back from the table and spins you around to face him, the speed of the turn making your hair swoosh across your shoulders. Through mutual giggles, Jack lifts you up, winding your legs around his waist, your arms doing the same around his neck. “I want you to count for me how many times you cum.”

Breathlessly, you simply obey, “Okay.”

He practically runs to the bedroom. He sets the clock on the nightstand and turns the face towards the mattress so you don’t lose out on studying time. Tossing you onto the bed, your giggling continues as you bounce from the force. Jack hooks his fingers in your underwear and yanks them down, pulling them out from under your skirt and over your shoes. The way he wastes no time ridding you of any other garment makes blood and heat flood your center and air rush out of your lungs. He pushes your lost air back into your mouth with a kiss and then immediately retreats back to in between your legs.

He flicks the fabric of your skirt up onto your belly, letting himself have complete, unobstructed access to his early lunch. His fingers fondle your folds while his lips place sloppy kisses along the inside of your thighs. After he’s had his fill of that step, he sits back and stares at you: spread out for him, more than willing to take anything he wants to give to you. He blows out a whistle, eyeing your core, and you say, “Hey, you’re on the clock, cowboy. No time for dramatics.”

He nods, a smirk pulling at one side of his mouth, “You’re right, sweetheart.”

He spits onto your cunt, forgoing his usual gentle licks to adequately wet your pussy. A quiet fuck escapes your mouth as he plunges his tongue into you. Your fingers wind themselves in his chocolatey locks and pull, extracting an excited moan from your lover. His fingers knead the soft flesh on the backs of your thighs as he eats and when his mustache starts to tickle your clit, you’re done for. Your grip on his hair becomes vice-like and your whole body seizes up, constricted by enrapturing pleasure. You strangle out, “One.”

Jack unlatches his mouth only once he’s certain your first orgasm is complete. He stands, admires your wrecked expression, takes his cock out, spits into his hand and pumps his dick a few times. Hands slithering around your waist, he flips you onto your stomach and pulls your ass up, positioning you on your hands and knees. You’re a little bit dizzied by his manhandling in combination with his expert tongue, but this type of vertigo is the most enjoyable you��ve ever experienced.

When he pushes into you, it’s a bit of a stretch because he hadn’t warmed you up with his fingers. He relaxes you by leaning forward, pressing his chest against your back and peppering soft kisses to your shoulder blades. The clink of his belt comically punctuates his thrusts, but your laughs are swallowed by intoxicated groans. You don’t know, and you don’t really care to figure out, how he already has you teetering on the edge of cumming again. Heightened senses tell you that you’re close; the fabric of his shirt feels unearthly soft as it brushes against patches of exposed skin, his fingertips are delightful lead in their clamp on you, his grunts and pants angelically reverberate in your skull. And then, suddenly and all at once, “Two.”

Jack’s pride shows itself in a smirk while he flips you onto your back. He makes a show of hooking your calves over his shoulders, eliciting laughter from the both of you. Resting almost all of his weight on top of you, your knees find your chest and his hands find your hair. The intimacy of it all is almost too much; his thumbs stroke your temples, palms cradle your head, those goddamned puppy-dog eyes bore into you. You turn your head in his grasp to check your timing: five minutes left.

Jack’s tongue darts out to lick the pads of his fingers before he snakes it down in between the two of you to rub your clit. Your moans come out uncontrollably, your eyelids stutter and he eggs you on, “That’s it, sweetheart. Give me another one.”

Hearty moans are reduced to desperate gasps and you’re unable to verbally acknowledge the third orgasm that rips through you. Nonetheless, Jack can tell from the way your eyes roll into the back of your head and his name tumbles ferociously out of your mouth that you’re cumming. “’Atta girl.”

Jack takes his cock out of you and the whine that escapes your lips embarrasses you. He can’t help but laugh at your whimpering before he scoots down the bed and starts to eat you out again, framing his head with your quaking thighs. You find the strength to check the time, “Jack, there’s only a minute and a half left.”

He moans deeply into you, unaffected by your comment, and eases three fingers into your fluttering center. Like earlier, your hands fly to his hair like a magnet and find purchase so tight it makes your knuckles go pale. In a matter of seconds, circling your clit with his sopping tongue and tapping your g-spot with his deft fingers, Jack has you cumming yet again. This time you yell out the count, “Four!”

The sounds his ministrations make are lewd and exhilarating, pushing himself to his own precipice. You look down your body to find Jack’s other hand jerking his cock and his seed spilling out of him moments later. He groans into your pussy while you pet his hair, praising him for his efforts.

Simultaneously, you both remember that you’re being timed. Your eyes meet the clock at the same time: 30 seconds. Jack springs from the bed and pulls you up with him, grabbing your discarded panties. He squats and taps your ankles so you lift your legs up, sliding each leg hole over your body and pulling your underwear up underneath your skirt.

You fumble with his mussed clothes, stuffing his still-hard cock into his boxers, hiking his jeans up over his ass and zip and button them closed. You snake his belt around his waist and let his fingers do the work of buckling it before he picks you up bridal style and ushers you out of the bedroom, grabbing the clock off of the nightstand on your way out.

Unhinged cackles follow you two down the hallway as you return to the living room. He plops you down in your chair, straightens you out, gives you a kiss on the cheek and then your alarm goes off. You raise your eyebrows at him, “Jeez, you didn’t waste a second.”

He hums, then mumbles, “You get back to work now, babygirl,” and leaves you with a yearning kiss on the part of your hair.

Both of you return to your respective readings, hopelessly trying to downgrade your panting gasps to normal breaths. The absence of Jack’s warmth is already painful. But you rationalize that the indulgence of the last ten minutes is more than enough to get you through this next hour of studying, if not for longer.

Little do you know that Jack feels the same pain. His ache for your touch, sexual or not, will overtake him later and he’ll be unable to resist the temptation of coming over and distracting you again. Determined to finish your studying, you’ll propose a compromise: you can sit in his lap while he is lulled to sleep by the ambience of the afternoon rain and the enveloping comfort of you. The two of you can try to beat the record of four orgasms next semester.

💘taglist: @pascalpanic, @mellowswriting

#agent whiskey x f!reader #agent whiskey x fem!reader #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey smut #agent whiskey x you #agent whiskey #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #kingsman: the golden circle #study smut #studying smut

117 notes · View notes

moneyshvt · 4 years ago

Photo

☆ . · . simay barlas, twenty-two, female, she / her . · . ☆ AYLA CLEARWATER lives in that huge mansion over there! no, not that one. look for THE LARGE NATURAL STONE FOUNTAIN and that’ll be it. the SPORTS PHOTOGRAPHER has offered occasional glimpses of LIGHT GREEN walls and an impressive collection of EMPTY PICTURE FRAMES in the background of social media posts, but all of that is nothing compared to seeing the opulence in person. they’ve remained CLEVER as ever since moving to tercet court one year ago, but it seems like they might’ve gotten a little more of NARCISSISTIC too. maybe that’s why they’re rumored to have such a FRIENDLY relationship with everyone else who lives on this street. ☆ . · . ooc info: ollie, they/them, 21, est . · . ☆

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘

— she was adopted when she was just under two years old from turkey, so the clearwaters have always felt like her family to her. she knew the greater part of growing up that she was adopted, it just never was an issue for her. it was a fact, but it really wasn’t an important fact. she has no desire to try to find her birth parents or family, though she has visited turkey.

— the clearwaters are a triple threat in sports : her grandfather retired mlb player and coach, her father a retired prominent defenseman in the nhl and current dartmouth men’s hockey coach, and her older brother ( 26 ) is making a splash in his third year in the nfl as a wide receiver. however, her parents made sure she and her brother had a ( fairly ) average “middle class” bringing up, though they had their fair share of money in the bank. didn’t have to struggle, really, but didn’t get everything she wanted either. had a summer job scooping ice cream for two years in high school.

— grew up in norwich, vt, real big on nature and hiking and all that jazz and lowkey misses it in the heart of la.

— when she was ten she got one of those kid’s polaroid cameras ( u know the ones where the film is only a little bigger than a postage stamp ) and she was obsessed. she worked her way up through cameras over the years, having a natural eye for it.

— one of the first games she ever shot was one of her brother’s high school football games which sounds sweet but it was actually because she was so bored out of her mind and wanted something to do. needless to say, though, that was the start of it. some might say it was kind of inevitable she gravitated toward sports somehow — she was a clearwater at heart. since then she has gained a lot of knowledge and respect for all different kinds of sports.

— for college she was torn between dartmouth and nyu. she ultimately chose nyu because it was somewhere new.

— she went to nyu for advertising and photography, shooting various nyu sports teams while she was there and throughout her years, managed to shoot a few rangers, knicks, and yankees games as well. she held two summer internships with the yankees ( on her own merits or because of her family name, she may never truly know ) and ultimately graduated from nyu a year early.

— she then spent the better part of a year after graduation road tripping as you do and ended up in california. it’s all about who you know, and in picking up a favor for a friend in cali she stumbled into the perfect opportunity. from there she landed a role on the company that handles the photography for staples center and other notable teams, most notably the kings, lakers, and dodgers ( photography company based on this irl one ).

— she moved into tercet court not long after she knew she would be in la for much of the time being. it’s definitely not her house, considering she makes just enough to live on. it’s a family home, purchased initially by her father who’d wanted to sink some money into tangible assets instead of the stock market and to have a west-coast home available for the family. hey, worked out pretty well for her.

— she has predominately been tasked with shooting the kings the past year or so, though she started with shooting dodgers games last summer and is doing so this summer as well. she’s also shot a handful of lakers’ games when a friend needs someone to cover. three of her photos so far have been used in large ads and banners in the city ( including most recently her current MONEY SHOT of the game winning goal in a come back win ) --- very cool moment for her. several others have been used by local publications and websites.

— she does a little freelance work as well ; mostly for friends or friends of friends, though she’s been considering lately trying to make her skills and business available in a more professional manner. she does do a lot of photographing for herself --- a lot of candids ; she thinks they capture the true spirit of a person moreso than when they’re posing or prepared for a photo. but not in a creepy way --- she’s been the victim of the paps enough times by association with her family to know the correct boundaries and limits.

𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐂

— lowkey loves playing games with the paps, though she’s probably the only one that finds it funny. as a photographer herself she has a good eye for where they’re hiding and will also snap photos of them in turn just for her own amusement.

— she hopes someday to be the team photographer for a team, hopefully in one of the “big four” ( nfl, nhl, nba, mlb )

— she played field hockey and lacrosse through high school.

— ayla thinks she’s better at shooting people. part of what she loves about being a sports photographer is how active and unpredictable it is to shoot a game. she’s had to learn a lot to try to predict what she can.

— very much a morning person. has never had a problem waking up in the morning. who’s jealous bc i am. goes for a run at sunrise, and has showered, gotten ready for the day, and is at a local cafe shop editing photos / making graphics and drinking an iced mocha by 8. truly couldn’t be me...

— so desperately wants to be that girl with tons of cute aesthetic plants in her apartment but tragically plants always die in her care no matter what she does. probably has gotten one of those tiny tabletop sand zen gardens to make herself feel better tho she still keeps trying with plants. so far the only ones that have lived any length of time are the air plants.

— she really wants a greyhound but is afraid to make the commitment to actually adopting one.

— her personal insta ( the non-sports one ) has a modest following. a few thousand, probs.

— she has struggled a bit with people who think her opportunities have only arisen because of her family pedigree ( which some have gone so far to tell her they’re “not her family” --- which, don’t even go there, lads... ), and that has made ayla work all that much harder to prove that she’d gotten where she has on her own merits.

— she has a rule ( and in the case of the nhl there is a rule enforced by a signed contract ) about not getting involved with anyone she shoots ; it’s considered a conflict of interest. i imagine she has a really good relationship with the players though --- probably doesn’t hurt that she is pretty. at least one of them have hired her to shoot their wedding this summer even though she is wildly under qualified.

𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘

alya is a chill and laidback person at heart. her approach to the fame attached to her due to her father and brother has been to laugh it off good-naturedly. she’s generally well liked, with a hint of sass and humor. she comes across as a bit of an air-head at times, but that’s part due to a persona she put on from a young age. she has an observant eye that drew to her photography in the first place and will often allow her to draw certain conclusions about people. she’s well versed in all the sports she shoots, something that tends to surprise a lot of people, but how is she supposed to be good at her job if she isn’t ? if she gets bothered during games she typically shuts people down with wide eyes and some obscure bit of knowledge in her cute, raspy lil voice. dareisay... elle woods, what like it’s hard ? energy ??

a few of her downfalls include her narcissism and need to be liked. she looks to look and feel pretty, by her own standards, and is a queen of the self-timer and remote self photography : has two instas because of it -- one for her sports photography and one that’s a “personal” and mostly just pictures of herself. her need to be liked is something she doesn’t even realize. she likes to be seen in a positive light.

𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄

alya stands at 5′4″ with a slim but athletic build. her hair is naturally brown, but is dyed to have blonde highlights. she does not need glasses or contacts and has no tattoos.

she’s almost always wearing the same pair of beat up timberland’s she’s owned since freshman year of college. she likes to be able to move easily ( bc homegirl absolutely cannot walk in heels at all ). despite what the tabloids like to call her unfortunate choice in footwear, she likes to look cute, often pairing them with short, flowy sundresses or skirts + crop tops. when she shoots games, however, she’s dressed rather practically in skinny jeans, a crop top, and a cardigan. her hair is often kept down and loose, or in a messy bun.

𝐎𝐎𝐂

it me. ollie again. i also play fitz ( miguel bernardeau fc ). yes the overlap between fitz and ayla is not great but i truly only know one thing that that one thing is hockey asldfalsdjf sO. if y’all seeing me rping with myself on the dash bc i think it’d be fun to bounce fitz and ayla off each other mind ur own business...

#linksintro #( it's not a whole lot diff from the first time around alsdfj )

4 notes · View notes

aching-tummies · 5 years ago

Text

Cosplay Hunger

I've been working on making a casual-cosplay piece for the past few days, one of those pleated skirts. I've always wanted to wear one but most of the skirts sold in stores nowadays are pencil-skirts or whatever and totally not my jam. Cosplay items, whether you buy them or make them yourself, are pretty pricey. Considering I currently have a source of income, I decided it was time to fufill some of my childhood dreams. I always wanted to cosplay, go to conventions, etc. It's not con-season, but I decided to have a little fun and attempt to make the type of skirt I've always wanted. Whether or not it develops into a full-blown cosplay or I wanna tank money into going to a convention eventually is still up in the air.

I had extra material, so I made a mock-up of the skirt at first. Well...it wasn't originally supposed to be a mock-up. I thought I had the right measurements, following my jeans waist-line...but when I sewed up the first attempt it was a couple of inches short of going all the way around my waist. To be fair, I didn't start out with proper measuring tools and the material I had on-hand to make the skirt wasn't stretchy. Jeans aren't "stretchy", but there's still a little give to them. Well, I used the 1st attempt as a learning experience. I still had enough material to try again and this time I dug up some proper measuring methods (an actual measuring-tape instead of going by my jean-size).

When I measured my waist out a few days ago to start the 2nd attempt, I had just eaten dinner. I measured out my waist while standing, and then while sitting and decided to go with a measurement halfway between the two. I mean, I didn't want to bust out of the skirt once I sat down.

A few days later, I have the skirt finished. I had other stuff going on--work, events with friends, and also the fact that I was a little timid about sewing. This skirt was supposed to be the realization of a childhood dream. I didn't want to screw it up. I spent a couple of days measuring out and ironing the pleats over and over again, to ensure they'd stay. I also hand-stitched them in-place before taking them over to the machine for good measure.

I decided I wanted to complete the skirt and have it as an option to wear when I go to a friend's place tomorrow (not sure if I'll actually wear it tomorrow). I got off work in the afternoon and worked diligently on the cosplay from 3PM-onwards.

My diet/meal-times have been pretty lackluster as of late. My work schedule is unpredictable so some days "breakfast" is at 2PM or 6AM...if there's a "breakfast" at all before or after I work. Today was one of those "barely eat a thing" kind of days. I think I grabbed a muffin or something off of the counter before work and maybe made and ate a small, scrambled-egg sandwich after work. I can't really remember if the sandwich was yesterday or if it was today but the longer I think about it, the more I’m sure it was yesterday. It's nearing midnight and I've been working on the cosplay non-stop since about 3PM. When I say "non-stop", I mean it. I just got up to use the washroom and I almost didn't make it in time. Before you ask, I currently have no intentions of turning this into an omorashi blog, so please don't fill my inbox with such things.

Anyway, the skirt's finally complete and I'm super proud of it. I slipped into it, hoping that it'd be the fulfillment of a long-held dream. The skirt slipped waaaay too low. Odd, because I remember the measuring tape being pretty binding when I measured myself out a couple of days ago. While I was considering the option of sewing on belt-loops, my stomach suggested another option with a few quiet rumbles. I was hungry. Scratch that, I was starving.

It was almost funny the way my stomach sounded to remind me of the fact that I hadn't eaten. I was expecting loud growls, but since I had neither food nor water for hours, I guess there was nothing in there to amplify the noises. The meek, quiet growls were very much like the shy/timid kid that raises their hand to ask if they may go to the washroom after the teacher has just snapped at the whole class for misbehaving (nobody wants to be the one to talk to the teacher after that). Either I didn't hear it before, or my stomach realized the rest of me was super-invested in whatever project I was working on and it kept itself quiet until I was done.

I was tempted to leave my stomach empty and indulge in hunger-kink tonight, only giving it water, but I decided against that. Yeah, I'd love to indulge in kink, but I'm really embarrassed about my kink(s) IRL and nobody that knows me knows I’m into this sort of stuff. My friends usually don't bother with dinner or food or whatever whenever we get together. Like, the concept of ordering pizza or something slips everyone's minds. There's also the fact that a lot of us have an aversion to eating in front of other people, so anything more than crackers and candy is usually off-the-table for us. I don't want my stomach to growl and embarrass me while I'm out with them tomorrow, so I'm eating now. Might as well reward my stomach for waiting so long without disturbing me. I still remember when I was working on papers last semester and my stomach decided to make me double-over with hunger-pangs when I was on a roll. Also...maybe the skirt will stay up once I've eaten something.

Whenever I combined my fandoms with tummy kink, I never imagined myself as the one with the tummy ache...heck, I never really imagined reader-insert tummy-kink stuff before. It was always one character helping (or teasing) another. What’s this blog doing to me? I used to just imagine (fictional) characters going through this stuff and never inserted myself into the mix...especially not as the one going through the stomach stuff. Guess cosplay and tummy-kink is something I can add to the wish-fulfillment list...although that’s going to be much harder to fulfill than sewing up a casual cosplay.

#hunger kink #tummy kink

9 notes · View notes

thenamesreader · 5 years ago

Text

Good In Me AU Character Profile

Aika Kaneshiro- SHSL Musical Artist

Gender: Female

Height: 5′ 5″

Weight: 48 kg (107 lbs)

Birthday: April 16

Chest: 77 cm

Blood Type: A

Likes: Mukuro, Ibuki, music (obviously), cotton candy (sweet things in general actually), and flowers

Dislikes: Bullies, missing homeroom, people disrespecting her profession

Affiliations: Hope’s Peak Academy’s 78th Class, Class 78-A

Appearance: Aika is a light-brown skinned girl with sunflower gold hair and teal eyes. Her school uniform is slightly altered where she has the skirt switched out for pants. She wears the same typical outfit with a brown vest over a white dress shirt with a red ribbon tied around her neck and black flats.

Her casual wear consists of a brown duster, red scarf, white t-shirt, black two-inch boots, and black jeans. There are usually a pair of round brown sunglasses on the top of her head.

Personality: Aika is a kind and cheerful girl despite always making herself sleep-deprived since she likes to stay up to create songs. She’s also somewhat of a hopeless romantic because of her feelings for Mukuro, becoming a complete disaster if she can make her smile or laugh. Like how Mukuro is way out of touch with her emotions, Aika is too in-touch with her emotions. She tends to react before she thinks which has gotten her hurt a few times. They sort of balance each other out, though, with the musician helping Mukuro come out of her shell while Mukuro helps her handle her emotions.

Despite her flaws, she can be silly, charismatic, and filled to the brim with love for everyone.

Talents & Abilities:

SHSL Music Artist: Aika has always had a passion for music for as long as she could remember. She started performing and playing music as soon as she could walk. Her first instrument was the piano, which she loves to play in her free time along with the guitar. She and Sayaka Maizono tend to compete since they tend to be top on the charts.

Sharp Hearing: Because of her profession, Aika has a more advanced hearing. She can tell voices apart, easily.

Advanced Dexterity: Aika is good with her hands since she plays so many instruments.

History

Early Life

Aika was raised by her father and aunt since her mother left when she was really young. She grew up surrounded by music, her aunt always singing her lullabies or playing different types of instruments for her. She would always wake up to music playing throughout the house. Most of the tv programs she watched were either musicals or music documentaries.

At the age of 4, her aunt started teaching her how to play the piano. She enjoyed it very much and played anytime she could. When she woke up, when she got bored, when she was sad, when she was happy, when she was angry. The piano was her life. After she mastered piano, she taught herself to play guitar and began writing her own songs.

At the age of 13, she found a band called “Black Cherry” and instantly fell in love, listening to their music on repeat. She even started to imitate their music, practicing and practicing until welts covered her hands.

She attended Sixth Black Root Middle School and Black Root High School with Sayaka Maizono. They attended the same classes and were pretty friendly with each other.

She was soon scouted by Hope’s Peak Academy.

Current

Unlike Maizono who did some... unethical things to achieve her dreams, Aika didn’t and worked hard on her own with the support of her father and aunt. She made sure that she got what she wanted the right way.

After the 78th Class Welcoming Ceremony, Aika ran into Ibuki Mioda when she found the music room. After recognizing that Ibuki had been a member of “Black Cherry” and learning that Ibuki had listened to some of her music, they hit it off. Ibuki soon became somewhat of a mentor to her.

A few weeks after meeting her class and her homeroom teacher, Aika bumps into a girl who roomed across to her who introduces herself as Mukuro Ikusaba and Mukuro’s sister, Junko. She found herself, instantly, attracted to Mukuro and very put-off by Junko’s actions, but, was otherwise able to ignore it.

She soon found herself spending more time with Mukuro because of this, much to Junko’s annoyance.

Relationships

Her Father and Aunt

Aika has a very good relationship with her family. She talks about them, fondly, and always says that they would love Mukuro. In her room, she has a picture that sits on her desk of the day before she left for Hope’s Peak with her aunt and father in it as they celebrated her success.

Mukuro Ikusaba

Aika rooms across the hall from Mukuro. After running into her after accidentally sleeping through her alarm, she found herself, quickly, falling head-over-heels for her. This causes the musician to be somewhat protective of her when something happens. Mukuro is the reason she tries to sleep more since they made a deal with each other in order for Mukuro to start eating more.

The two tend to hang out with each other after class in the courtyard and just talk about anything that comes to mind. She expressed her attraction a few times to Mukuro, in more of a joking way, and has asked her to marry her on multiple occasions but never in front of anyone else after the soldier confessed she was unsure how anyone else would perceive it. Aika actually believes it has to do with how Junko would perceive it.

Ibuki Mioda

Aika and Ibuki are pretty much the best of friends. Though, her bond with her fellow musician probably wouldn’t come as close as she does with her class. Aika and Ibuki can be found in Ibuki’s classroom during lunch or the music room when either of them are free and just play music or come up with songs.

Aika is always pretty relaxed around Ibuki, sometimes listening to her upperclassman ramble about things she’s thinking about.

Sayaka Maizono

Aika and Sayaka are constantly competing with each other to see who can top the charts since their two of the top young artists in the country. They're pretty friendly with each other besides that. They tend to mostly tease each other when they see each other in the hallway.

Mikan Tsumiki

Aika tends to visit her a lot because of her bad habits because she’s either sick or she wore her hands out practicing. Because of her sweet nature, Aika tends to give Mikan gifts and help her out against bullies like Hiyoko.

Mikan often doesn’t know how to pay her back so she gives her anpan as thanks.

Makoto Naegi

Makoto and Aika are pretty friendly with each other as well. She has run into him a few times and she believes he is a real sweetheart. Because of his nature, she gave him the nickname of “Kibo”.

Teruteru Hanamura

Aika finds his behavior gross and disgusting and only goes to him for his cooking. She has to give him credit for something if she were to be honest with herself.

Nagito Komeada

Aika finds him... strange. From the few times they’ve interacted, he has commented on how he sees a special future for her. Aika always interprets it as something to do with her music career.

Junko Enoshima

Aika and Junko have an antagonistic relationship. Junko always gets annoyed since Aika has all of Mukuro’s attention. Aika has also witnessed first hand the abuse that gets hurled at Mukuro by her sister. She’s sometimes snapped at Junko because of it. Some of their fights have gotten bad enough that Junko’s stabbed her in the shoulder and threatened her life. Otherwise, she ignores anything that Junko says about her unless it comes to her profession. Most of the comments that come out of Junko’s mouth anyway is something about how Junko feels she’s really important somehow. She also finds Junko’s obsession with despair disturbing. She feels as if she is planning something, but can’t put her finger on what exactly.

Chisa Yukizome

Aika and Chisa have a pretty strong relationship. Aika might not be her student, but Chisa has a soft spot for her. Since Aika tends to visit her classroom a lot, she tends to be warm and friendly towards her. She tends to take a more motherly approach with Aika and considers her an honorary student of Class 77-B.

Kyoko Kirigiri

Aika is acquainted with the detective. She finds her kind of scary, though, because she feels as if she could read her mind.

Quotes

“I’m Aika Kaneshiro, the Super High School Level Music Artist. I’m in Class 78-A. Um, things to know. Not much. I like music and have bad sleeping habits if that’s what you want to know. Or would you like to know more? My favorite color is blue and my favorite flower is a marigold. I also love, love, love cotton candy.”

“Alright! Hold on to your heads- and hold onto your hearts, ladies-because Aika Kaneshiro is here!”

“I’m sorry, Principal Kirigiri! I won’t be late for class again!”

“What’s with this Junko girl on all these magazines? She seems like a brat.”

“Yeah! Go, Mioda!”

“All women are queens! Anyone who disagrees is a... um. Is a... A loaf of stale bread!”

“I’ve seen a lot of pretty women in my life, but, Mukuro takes the cake.”

“There are only two things I will defend in my life: The love of my life and my music.”

“Hey, Kibo!”

“No pain, no gain!”

“I’m not afraid of some kogyaru! I’ll drop her in a heartbeat!”

“I’ll find whoever burnt Muki’s cookie and make ‘em pay!”

“Hanamura! Stop being a perv!”

“We’re all searching for something that gives us purpose. For me, it was music. Music still gives me purpose, but... I found something else that drives me, too.”

“It’s never too soon in the story for a love confession, Tsumiki! Never!”

Trivia

Her first name, Aika, means “love song” and her last name, Kaneshiro, means “golden castle”

Aika makes a lot of references to IRL bands, such as MCR.

While playing the piano once, she hits the G-note and starts crying. When asked why she was crying by a fellow classmate passing by, she replies by saying “It just brings back sad memories.”

Another time, when talking with Maizono, she gets very offended on how she had described her music and replies “I write sins, not tragedies”, an obvious reference to the song by Panic! At The Disco.

She also uses a line from Twenty-One Pilots’ “Stressed Out” in one of her songs.

Aika has many nicknames for Mukuro. She uses “Wolfie” and “Muki” the most, but, she’s called her “Tiger Lily” and “Sarge” on occasion.

Aika is not a fan of British boy bands. She complains that their songs aren’t that different and they all look the same, the only thing being different about them is their names.

She was sent death threats from rabid fans after publicly stating that in an interview.

Aika’s scarf was given to her by her aunt.

Aika did have a brief crush on Sayaka in middle school. She moved on, quickly, though.

Even though she and Junko have a terrible relationship, she wishes she and Junko could be friends in the future.

Aika likes her younger fans better than her older. They’re just so sweet.

Aika’s favorite animal is a cat. She tends to visit Gundham a lot to see the cats he’s found.

#danganronpa au #good in me au #danganronpa oc #danganronpa 3 #danganronpa: the end of hope’s peak academy #danganronpa trigger happy havoc #sdr2 #super danganronp 2 #dr:thh

3 notes · View notes